Catching the Good.

As my mom will attest, after hearing the stories now that we’re older, parents don’t always catch every bad thing you do. 

But, we sure try.  Don’t we? 

Here is a secret and maybe it isn’t my finest parenting hour to admit this...  I have managed to complete convince my children that moms develop eyes in the back of their head.  It’s how I know when they’re messing around when they shouldn’t be.  Dads?  They have a magical parenting power too… super hearing.  Dave knows when it’s quiet… too quiet, it’s time to go searching for the reason. 

As parents, we develop these sixth senses for catching our kids doing all of the things they aren’t supposed to do.  That is our job, right? 

We give a warning with that tone.  We use their full names.  We ask them to consider whether they are doing what they should be doing.  We set limits, we catch them crossing, and put them on the right path, until they learn to do these things for themselves.

Yesterday, Finn was frustrated, tired, and just having a tough day.  Tate was on task, being a great listener, and having a great day.  The difference was unmistakable.  I should also say, there are many, many days when this is the exact opposite in our house.  But yesterday, I found myself gravitating toward reminding him about his attitude and making sure he completed what he needed to do and it felt remarkably worse to him because there she was, doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing, without argument, smiling even. 

I put Tate in the tub and she said something about Finn not being a good listener but, she was and it gave me pause because that isn’t the message I wanted to send.  Instead, I said loud enough for Finn to overhear, that we all have good days and bad days.  I said, there were lots of days that he was a great listener and that after a good night’s rest, is a great time to begin again with a fresh attitude.  Then, I told her that even though I was busy, I really noticed how much effort she had put into cleaning up her room and what a good listener she had been with her dad.  I promised I’d put a fresh coat of paint on her fingernails, something that is a huge treat for her, after she put her pajamas on because she had worked so hard.

Not only did that simple little thing make her light up, but when I went to tuck Finn in for bed, he had done his stuff too.  My nagging for half an hour hadn’t remedied the bad attitude and mess that needed picked up, but overhearing our two minute conversation had.  I gave him a squeeze and told him that I really appreciated that he did those things and that I understood how hard sometimes it is, to turn your day around, but that you always can. 

I kind of feel that way about parenting too.  My friend Kristina, who has more grace and patience in her pinky than I have in all of me, reminds me constantly that even good parents, have bad days.  It’s not about what you’ve screwed up, it’s about making the choice to do it differently next time.   We’ve been doing a good job of catching the bad because we recognize the need to correct it immediately.  Making an effort to catch the good takes some thought, we have to be conscious and mindful of it.  For me, and maybe for other parents too, it doesn’t come nearly as easily, but it’s something that I absolutely think is worth it.  

I’d love any tips on how you catch the good in your own kids.

Thirty-Five.

This is what thirty-five looks like.  {It is also what 29 weeks pregnant looks like.} 

I thought it would feel somehow older, more mature at the very least.  Thirty-five seemed ancient when I was eighteen. 

I now realize how incredibly stupid I was at age eighteen and it amuses me.

 

This is probably the most content I’ve ever been in my life. 

I am happy, really happy. 

And that, my friends, is saying a lot.

I know just who I am as a person.  And I like that girl woman.  All of her.

Part of the plan for me, it’s the journey… at twenty-five or even thirty, I still hadn’t figured that out.  I wanted to know where I would end up, where I would go to college, who I would end up with, what I would be doing, what my life would be like, would I have kids, and on and on.  I wish I hadn’t wished away some of those years for the next step because the next step, it’s coming {it really is and it always does} so enjoy the step you’re on while you’ve got it.  I’m ok now with learning what the next fifty years will bring as it comes.  

Right now, I am here, right in the moment.  There is my Davester and a marriage {and a friendship} that I only could have imagined.  Finn, my funny little partner in crime and the sweet baby girl on the way.  Monty Poodle and Dexter, this family wouldn’t be complete without them.  There is my incredibly supportive family who has seen me through all thirty-five years, hugs me tightly and still loves me despite my teen years.  There are friends old and new, who make me laugh and lift me up.   And there are all of you who keep me endlessly entertained and who I love talking to daily.

Right here, is thirty-five. 

It feels good.

I’ve Always Wanted to be One of the Boxcar Children.

When I was a kid, I used to make my sister Lyndsey and my cousin John play like we were poor and had to fend for ourselves.  My Meme had an old heater in the basement that looks like a stove, it was usually the basis for our house… either that, or we’d make the area behind the bar our ‘house’ and I’d cram them both onto the shelves underneath it like they were bunk beds.  Good times.  Sometimes we let John be our younger brother and sometimes we’d strong-arm him into to being our dog.  We would wear old towels… you know, for warmth.  And to eat?  We’d catch fish in the form of old wooden clothes pins that we would throw on the floor and use the shuffle board sticks as fishing poles.  It was endless entertainment. 

Oh sure, they went along with me because I was the oldest, but I have to think, they probably thought I was fucking nuts when we had tons of real toys to play with and yet, there we were huddled around a fake campfire pretending to be freezing.

How did it start?  The Boxcar Children, of course.  It was a story about four kids who were orphaned and to stay together, they run away and just happened to find an abandoned train car in the forest to live in.  They furnish their ‘house’ by using stuff that is thrown out at the dump and forage for food, able to barely scrape by because Henry the oldest, did odd jobs to make a few cents.  They even take in an old dog as their pet and name him Watch because duh, he’s a good watch dog and protects the kids.  It was all quite dreamy to a second grader.

Why am I bringing this up now?  The snowpacalypse is descending upon us and dude, we’re prepped just in case the power goes out and we have to live like the Boxcar Children for a day or two.  It’s not the foot of snow I’m worried about, it’s the possibility of an ice storm.  And so far, it’s like our weather people have a snow boner and don’t know what the fuck to do with it.  We just don’t know what we’re going to end up with and so, I prepare.  It’s what I do.

“Ahhh the good old days when people died of Polio & got eaten by wild buffalo on the prairie.”  -my husband on being without power in a winter storm

Dave, of course, does not find the scenario of living like the Boxcar Children nearly as dreamy as I do.  It’s like he enjoys ruining my childhood fantasies, but totally wants me to still fulfill his adult fantasies.  FAIR?  I think not.

If you’ve ever been trapped with a three year old anywhere without food, a drink, or entertainment, you’ll know there is just no hell like it.  Add in a healthy dose of negative degree weather and a husband who’s going to have to snow blow up to a foot of snow off of 120 feet of driveway and you have yourself a recipe for disaster.  So, I’ll be the alarmist crazy person, I’m not one of those assholes taking my chances in the name of bravado.  No way. The reality is, if we do lose power it really will suck, but we won’t be completely screwed. We have a full fridge, a gas fireplace in the living room for heat, a power converter in the car if we need to charge cell phones {or computers for movie viewing}, we have a battery powered lantern and flashlights, and a full propane tank on the grill for cooking.  We’re also probably in the minority here, but dude we’ve still got a landline. 

My sister?  She’s coming to stay at my house with the promise of a full pot of Meme’s Beef Stew, biscuits, and many many years of playing like we were poor under her belt.  We’ve got Girls Just Wanna Have Fun on dvd and a full Netflix queue… along with hot chocolate and laughing and pointing at Dave snow blowing out the window for our entertainment.

And if the power does go out?  She knows there will be old towels to wear and a watch dog named Monty to keep her feet warm. 

How is the weather where you are?

Ken Weiser, Pajama Pants, & the Lunatic Behind the Blog

People in my life know about my blogging.  I am, on this space, who I am in real life.  My besties use it to keep up on my life.  My mom is freakishly proud, though she doesn't really understand why thousands of people pop in here to read about the lunacy.  My high school friends and grade school friends see the posts on Facebook and I know some of them read because they leave me the best comments about freaky bird sex on cable or send me sweet emails about how much they enjoy reading. 

It's still a little weird when someone pops up in person and mentions it.  Especially if I wasn't aware that they were aware of my blog.  It has happened now a few times and I always feel like a goob, most recently a couple weeks ago.  It's one thing for someone to send me an email and say they like visiting, it's another to get a compliment in real life and have to have that flushed "someone likes me" moment when not hiding behind a laptop screen.  And you wonder if they are secretly judging the fact that you show up to clean after a party and you are wearing your pajamas and your hair looks a bit like it's hit a light socket and you got a restless 5 hours of sleep the night before.  {Um, hi Lisa!} 

Because I totally still get that dumbfounded grin when a new reader or even an old reader comments or sends me an email or tells me to my {very red} face they like reading.  And then I feel like the stupid sixth grader talking to Ken Weiser on the phone and hoping that my mother lets me go roller skating with him on Saturday, but I know she won't and I am secretly releived because, let's face it, I am wholly unprepared for that.  By the way, those are the days that I had to stretch the phone cord from the wall to hide on Meme's basement steps to talk on the phone in private and even then, my whole family just knew I was talking to a public school boy.

Shit.  No one tell freaking Ken Weiser to read this. Ok?

What the hell was my point?  Oh yes, tonight I was talking to a friend on gchat about my blog's statistics because she offers good advice and doesn't get {too} pissed that I was asking the 2,849,399th stupid question and I realized something.  I hope that no matter how big or small this blog is, or how long I've been doing it, that feeling never goes away.  I hope that I still am privileged enough to connect with amazing and generous people like Ash, or Sarah, or Hillary, or Becki, or Rachel.  And get to hang out with people that I was friends with before we ever started blogging.  And even my blogless peeps like Noelle, or Stephanie, or Amy, or Amy, or Kelly continue to participate here with me, just as they do.

And just so you know, if you see me in the grocery store and I'm wearing slippers and my hair is sticking out in 12 places, still stop me and say hi.  Or to you there, reading for the first or fiftieth time, leave a comment and introduce yourself.  I'm happy to have each of you reading and if you were here, I'd totally buy you a pint of Guiness.

Happy St Patty's Day.

Birthday Wishes

THIS is what I want for my birthday in April.  Well, this and a Cricut Expression machine, but mostly this.  I am going to make it happen.  The ideas are already swirling.  AND my birthday is a Saturday this year.  Fate, no?

I might ask for your help.

Who is in?

I Miss My Plastic Charm Necklace.

Once, when Lyndsey and I were little, she shoved American cheese into my Strawberry Shortcake Blow Kiss doll.  You have no idea what I am talking about?  Strawberry Shortcake had baby dolls that, when you squeezed them, would blow fruit scented air into your face.  It was our favorite activity while dancing around in our Wonder Woman underoos watching Saturday morning cartoons.  I believe these days, they call it huffing, but whatevs. We had Lemon Meringue and Strawberry.  And Lyndsey had shoved the american cheese into her mouth which put the end to the strawberry scented goodness until one day, the cheese dried out enough to be dislodged just so.  When we pushed on her belly, she shot cheese out of her mouth at such a great speed that I'm pretty sure Rainbow Brite and Christina Marie were scared.  Christina Marie was my Cabbage Patch... she had a normal name because she was one of the first edition, procured by some miracle the Christmas I was seven  by my Meme from a friend of hers in New York.  Don't tell anyone, but she still lives in my house.

Lynds and I were children of the eighties.  We walked to the drugstore to buy giant flourescent pink triangle earrings.  We wore jelly shoes until our feet blistered.  We had every color of embroidery floss imaginable and would spend hours making friendship bracelets.  That was after the beaded friendship pin craze had died off a bit.  The Christmas that I was in sixth grade, my aunt took me to the Limited to buy an Outback Red shirt, I was in seventh heaven.  It was just about as awesome as my friends renting a white limo for my thirteenth birthday.  We rode around and drank two liters of soda.  How cool can you get?

My aunt also worked for Apple and got a IIe for us.  My mom probably had a $400 phone bill every month in 1987 when we were introduced to Prodigy by my Uncle Jim.  "Mom, we can meet someone in Oklahoma or Maine or New Hampshire!  You just use the phone line!  It is sooooo cool."  It lived in our bedroom, that we somehow convinced my mother to let us paint with bright white walls and black trim.  I can't even fathom the kind of "cool mom" factor it takes to let your pre-teens paint that hideousness with your blessing. 

Of course, it wasn't all Funshine & Cheer Bears, there were bad things too.  It is still the bane of my existance that I lost the tape of Lyndsey falling on her butt captured on my PXL-2000.  I was sure that was my ticket to Bob Sagett and his Funny Videos.  We ran out of cake mix & light bulbs burnt out of our Easy Bake Ovens.  My cousin John had all of his action figures stolen right out of the back of my Meme's Pacer in the parking lot of the grocery store.  And we do have photographic evidence of me only wearing pink and white, mostly flashdance-esque sweatshirts, for about two years of my life.  And the shoulder pads, the shoulder pads.  Who would let a fourth grader wear a turquoise blazer with shoulder pads to school?  That's right.  My mother. 

And the charm necklace.  Ohhhhh the sweet sweet plastic charm necklace.  Filled with clip on charms like a baby bottle, a tennis racket, and an abacus, because in 1985, you never knew when you might need a miniature plastic abacus.  To do your counting of Hello Kitty items or Garbage Pail Kid cards or ummm whatever?  If I had that pink plastic goodness today, I would be forced to wear it AND pretend I was putting on the plastic lipstick charm, the awesomeness was just that powerful.  There is no point in denying it.

This post is really for my awesome friend Merrily, who introduced me to this book, modeled by the gorgeous Christina Marie herself...

It's a book, it's a Trapper, there are images of smelly stickers, it's totally RAD.  I read this and laughed hysterically.  And now, I'm passing it on to one of you.  {Full disclosure, I totally paid for this sucker & already read it.} Leave a comment with YOUR favorite and thing about the eighties.  I will choose a winner on Friday, February 5.

Gotta go.  Digrassi Junior High is on and my crimper is done heating up. 

{UPDATE:  Thank you to all the entries!  The winner, chosen very democratically by writing everyone's name on paper and having Finnegan choose one, is GEORGIE!  Congrats!  I need your address to get your book to you!}

On Blogging.

Did you know that when your Google Reader hits 1,000 items, it no longer lists the actual number of items, it just gives you the shameful, glaring 1,000+ items until you once again hit 999 items? I don't even know how many I read, but I deleted 964 items because I just couldn't take it anymore. I figure if any of you had anything that earth shattering to say the last 5 or 6ish days that I was only sporadically checking Reader, it would just have been C&P'd and highlighted on a few of my other blog reads. It amazes me some days how viral social media can be. Oh sure, I have my favorites that I always {mostly} check, but for the rest of you, you're just not that important. I get it, I'm not that important to thousands of other bloggers either. I'm ok with that. You should be too.

A lot these days, I feel like people are forgetting what the deal is with their own blog. You see... I write mainly to preserve my sanity. For days that I feel like Wonder Woman and can conquer the world and for days that I feel like a jackass and for days that I feel like a shitty parent. All of them. I look to other women who stay home, who are able to balance a career and family, single girls who embody the person I was 10 years ago, people who create amazing things, who are more stylish, less bitchy, and on those days that I need it, who bring a voice of reality and a gut check into my living room. What are your reasons?

Maybe it's because I'm not looking at this blog as a business, and it really is ok with me if you do, but I'm becoming more and more annoyed with daily giveaways of products you probably wouldn't even buy, really shitty jokes that I don't think are funny, lying to readers about who you are as a person, misrepresenting how successful you are and feeling marketed to. Be honest with your intentions and I'm good with that. If I am going to the Google Blog, I am pretty sure they're going to talk about Google, that much I'm ok with. And it's not just the marketing thing, it's someone regarding me like a commodity rather than a person, being genuinely not happy down right bitchy towards someone else getting something they wanted, lying/embellishing and printing it as fact, and/or being a full on creep. {Please say it more like creeeheeep in a singsongy way in your head to really get the full effect.} There has to be a point that you just have to bloggy break up with peeps that are not doing it for you. Right?

So why is it so hard? There has only really been one person that I've bloggy broken up with before because she was an asshole in the way she spouted off things I don't believe in, right after she lamented on why her reader numbers were down and berated a commenter for posting their opinion that she openly solicited. Mostly she was rude & I didn't so much feel bad about that one. I do feel bad that otherwise fabulous writers are consistently not writing decent content because they're worrying about numbers or ratings or being successful. It's annoying. And for the sake of everything holy, be who you are because fake doesn't do it for me and truly, don't you watch enough movies to know that the fake ones always get exposed for who they are in some horribly obvious way?

Where was I? Oh yes, my rant, which I am now totally done with.

Just one more thing... I promise you that I'm going to attempt not to be douchey, I'm going to occasionally {that means a lot probably} swear because I do in real life and it's something I'd like to change, but at 33... I mean 27, probably won't. My genius posts, the ones I am really proud of, are sporadic at best.  I will likely make you ill talking about my amazing son because he is awesome, mostly not by anything Dave or I've done, but we like to take credit anyway. I might be funny, I might be sappy, and some days I will just post that I am alive. Because I'm a blogger, and that's how I roll. HA, see there?  I would totally NOT say that in real life.  Oh, and since we're being honest here, I totally got out of bed with my sleeping husband to write this in the middle of the night because it was bugging me to write a post in my head since I knew I would forget it, but by the magic of bloggerland it's POOF 8:00 am because I didn't want you to know I am one of those lunatic write in the middle of the night writers who ramble n' stuff. 

Happy Thursday.  Fill me in on the goings on with you since, uh, you sort of accidentally on purpose got deleted from my Reader.  Oh, and for crying out loud people who haven't said hi before, say hi so I can check out your blog too, don't you want to be on my future Reader-overload list?

H1N1 Vaccine (WFMW) & Brain Dump Randomness

OK, I'm likely opening up a whole can of Works for Me Wednesday worms here.  Please head over to We are THAT Family for more fabulousness.  If you choose to comment on the vaccine, I would ask that you are respectful of everyone's {personal} decision on this matter.  Onward...

Yesterday, we spent five hours waiting to get the H1N1 vaccine.  It was a last minute decision to get down there so we took off without having made provisions for waiting that long with a two and a half year old during what is supposed to be his naptime.  Yeah.  Aside from the excruciatingly long wait, the Ohio Health Department in Wood County did an amazing job of keeping everyone informed about what was going on, the levels of the amount of vaccines available {the mist was readily available, the shot was limited} and even brought out bags of snacks & tissues, etc... to keep hundreds of people comfortable during the wait.  Thankfully, it was a gorgeous day to be outside and the kids had a great time running around on the grass getting all of their energy out.  I wish I had thought to bring my camera to document the process, but sadly I didn't. 

We went with the mist even though we had the choice, it was painless, we've had zero side effects, and though it is a live virus, it's also thimerosol free.  There is a weird swing going on right now with negative information regarding the vaccine, but quite honestly I feel really good about our decision to vaccinate.  H1N1 seems to be rampant in our area of the country and knowing friends that have been going through it, it is something I'd like to take every precaution to avoid if possible.  I fully realize that the vaccine isn't a guarantee, but it is a precaution just like washing our hands {which we also do} on a regular basis.   My husband and I read a lot of information before making that decision and I would encourage everyone to do the same.

So what are your H1N1 vaccine plans?


And on to the brain dump randomness...

• Why is it not possible to get out of Target for less than $40?  Ever.  Seriously.  And mostly it's well over that!  Target you crazy bastard of lovely items, please stop being so awesome and filled with wonderful things.
• I am really considering purchasing the GoGo Kidz for our trip to California.  Though, it bugs me to no end when people spell things with a Z instead of an S.  I ask you... is this something that should preclude me from purchasing?
• I have been dying to make quiche, so that is my plan for dinner tomorrow night if I can get my ass in gear.  I love serving it with a green salad & homemade vinagerette.
• The "Balloon Boy" story really pisses me off.  Ummm great thing to teach your children, lying to get on a reality tv show.  And the whole alien abduction thing?  Sweet.
• The husband is on a business trip this week & I sleep better when he's gone.  Is that terrible or what?
• I am working my way through my 101 Things in 1001 Days list!  I'm also going to get the book The Next Thing On My List thanks to Katie's Random Post.
• I can not wait to spend a weekend with my sisters... yep, that's right... I'm dragging along Lyndsey to Kentucky to see Elise.  I feel badly for Dave and the insanity he's going to endure with the three of us. 
• Finn is obsessed with monsters lately and I'm not quite sure where he's getting that.  He keeps telling me that he's afraid of the bad monsters in the basement.  Not fun.  Right now we're telling him that monsters don't live in the basement and that they don't exist.  Any ideas on how to fix this?
• Breakups suck, not only for the people going through it, but for everyone else who has to watch.  {Love you both tremendously.}

Whew.  Ifyou're still reading, thank you for letting me get all of that out!  I promise not to blog whilst waiting for the Advil PM to kick in ever again that often. 

Happy Wednesday!

Carded.

You know that glowy feeling you get when you’re 33 and you get carded? Even when you’re toddler is with you and you’re purchasing THREE bottles of wine? I wasn’t purchasing the wine because of the toddler {mostly}, but I digress. She CARDED me! Granted, Trader Joes probably has a policy of carding everyone under 60 or something, but still. I giggled and hurriedly began looking through my wallet to find my drivers license.


Where is it? Crap. Where did I put it? Whew. There it is. I pulled it out and handed it to the cashier who looked like she was twelve. She gave it a quick glance and handed it back to me. She had figured out in the 60 seconds of me giddily looking for my id that I was in fact probably as old as her mother. Damn. "Wait a minute, can I see that again?" Yesss… she is rethinking that whole mom thing and has decided I could be her hot older sister! "Your license is expired and in the state of Michigan we can not sell alcohol to someone with an expired license. Yep, see it expired in April of 2009."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shiiit. "Umm, I’ll be right back, lemmejustgoget my husband. He’s in the car."  Shit. I hurriedly ran, with the toddler in tow, out of THE most crowded Trader Joes in the history of man. I KNEW I shouldn’t break my rule of never coming to Ann Arbor ever during football season. {A matter of principle! Go Bucks.} Why did I even stop here? We were an hour late leaving! Oh right, Zingerman’s bakery was the reason we stopped here... and wine. Copious amounts of Two Buck Chuck. Dave is going to laugh at me. I mean when did I let this happen? How did this happen? When did I become THAT mom?

He maybe mentioned mommy brain seventy bajillion times, but he paid the bill and we got the heck out of Dodge. All I could think as we were leaving was how I was now going to have to blog about being made to take my driver’s test again. Ooooh wait, I still have like 5 days until it has been 6 full months. Maybe there is a chance I won’t have to take my test again? 
So... how was YOUR weekend?

Why we are never allowed to go shopping together. Ever. Oh, and 51 days until Black Friday.

OK, so it's not like we needed any of these things. Well, we DID need the cat food which is why we went into the store in the first place. The cashier laughed at us while we were checking out because we were trying to figure out if it was the $20 collector Pez {a Christmas gift!} or the $15 vanilla bean salt that sent us over the edge.

Twelve items = $78

But, I sure did SAVE ten whole cents for bringing a re-usable bag with us.

My favorite example though of our assinine co-dependent shopping behavior is the great Black Friday incident of  2007.  So, I will freely admit that Black Friday shopping is my thing and by default {aka: marriage} is now Dave's thing.  He swears he doesn't like it to the masses, but he does, don't let him kid you.  The stories alone from his trip to Walmart where they broke out into a fight over $3 pajama pants {which Dave has a white hot hatred for} in front of his very eyes are entertaining enough that we still laugh about it.  And there are waffles after!  We have quite the time getting up at an obscene hour of dark in the morning, it's usually freezing and we're both bleery-eyed until we get at least 3 cups of coffee into our systems.  Couple all that with my crazy sister and my people crowd hating brother in law {who uses phrases like "we're butts to nuts in here!" to describe the conditions of lines} and you've got yourself a good picture of where we were at that 5 am on Black Friday 2007, with a 7 month old.  Oh yeah, did I mention that we took Finn with us?  So there we were... sleep deprived, 5 am, with about 3 hours of sleep, and here I am... sitting on the furniture we came home with.  Because nothing says Christmas shopping like taking a little seat in the store while exhausted and thinking, "hey, this is comfy... stylish too," and ending up with a furniture delivery a week later.

You thought I was kidding?  Did you see the $12 caramels?  We are NOT allowed to shop together ever again unless it's Black Friday.

I see dead people. Err... positive things in my future. The vision board.

YAY me!  I get to cross something off my list!  My vision board {#91} is done.  It contains everything from having good hair days to a large amount of cash in our savings account to getting pregnant to making exercise a priority to learning to knit.  I fancied mine up a bit just because I think it deserves a special place and some time and effort, but you can do anything from a piece of paper to a digital vision board to a poster board filled with images of your future.  Make it personal.

Why did I decide to do a vision board?  It's something that I've been wanting to do for quite some time now.  For me, it's helpful to have a visual reminder of the priorities in my life and where we are going to be as a family in a few years.  I thought that it would be a great item for the 101 Things in 1001 Days list since they are similar.  I posted my vision board in our bedroom, right over the phone, somewhere that I would see often. 

Substance.

I read a lot. Not nearly as much as I used to, but more than the average person I think. It's important for me to have Finnegan seeing that reading is valued in our house. He is already a little book worm, just ask Dave how many times we've read The Foot Book or Noises or Biscuit's Pet & Play Halloween. I'd read even if Finnegan weren't here, but it is even more important to make time to do it now.

My point of this post is that while reading the Twilight series or Laurie Notaro is fun, I feel like maybe some of those novels should be replaced with something of substance. So in 2009, I'm going to read at least one non-fiction book a month. So that's where you come in... what should be on my absolutely MUST read non-fiction list?

They will be mine. Muuuaaaahhha ha Um... ha.

All last year I searched for white pumpkins and was left empty handed. This year, I have scoped out a stash of them and they WILL be mine. Oh yes my friends, they will. Muahahaaahaaaahaa.

Seriously, Dave doesn't get it. He asked me what the hell I'd want white pumpkins for. Of course, that was after I slowed the car (his car that I was driving) and asked him to leap out, steal a few and run back to the car. He wasn't amused. Wait till I tell him they are twice the price of the orange variety.

Project 2996.

http://project2996.com/getinvolved.html


I thought this was such an interesting concept. Next September 11th I would like to be able to participate. It seems as if we're already forgetting as a nation.

Dearest Self,

When you purchase candy in advance of YKW's BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA, which I can't share details on just yet because the invites are not going out until next week, it is not meant for YOUR consumption. I mean, yes you were being a smart shopper when you bought it on sale, but it doesn't save you a dime if you pilfer a dud or two (or 47) each time you pass them in the kitchen and you have to end up buying more boxes. Also, please note that YKW can not pass up an open box of chocolate coated caramel gooeyness, so JUST DON'T OPEN THE BOX. Also note that even though the box says 35% less fat, it does not mean you should eat 35% more since "those don't count."

Love,
You.

Incidentally, the party is going to be a doozy and I can't wait to spill the duds on all the details.

Dinner was a HUGE success

and nary a photo in sight. I was too busy entertaining and eating to snap pics, but everything was awesome.

The Menu (perfect for summer!)

• orzo pasta salad (dried cherries, toasted pine nuts, fresh basil, & feta)
• apricot couscous (dried apricots, cumin, cinnamon, toasted almonds, & green onion)
• pork tenderloin (marinated in soy, olive oil, sugar, fresh ginger, & minced garlic)
• romaine & spinach salad (nectarines, green apple, spicy toasted pecans, & Mara's dressing)
• grilled veggie pasta (fresh herbs, zucchini, yellow squash, asparagus, onions, garlic, red & orange peppers)
• fruit salad (with lime vanilla simple syrup)
• bread (sourdough, cheese bread, & french)

I took a chance with the couscous and it was so good. I've never made it & I was shocked how simple it is!

Summer food and the arrival of the crazies.

Image courtesy of Decisive Moment Photojournalism. You can visit their blog here. And two more crazies have been added since!

Next week my family arrives. To top all that off, we're having a reunion of the extended family. I don't think we've all (the extendeds) been together since the wake of my great-grandmother some fourteen years ago. There is a strange and wonderful cast of characters let me tell you. I am quite sure there will be stories, especially since the event is in a city (read DRY) park and well... we're Irish and Catholic. So yeah, that should work well.

So you'll have to wait for stories of the crazies, but for now, I'm busy planning a dinner menu for about 25 people. This is just the immediate family folks. Again, Irish Catholic. So I've been searching recipes and have come across a bunch of summery salads that I'd love to try even if they don't work out for this particular meal.

All are from Cooking Light and by clicking, you will be taken to the recipe.

• Curried couscous salad with dried cranberries


• Basmati chicken salad


• Broccoli & apple salad


• Cucumber, mango & black bean salad


• Bread salad with cranberries, spinach, & chicken


• Avacacdo & grapefruit salad with pomegranate seeds


• Tuscan bread salad with corn

What are some of your summery favorites?

Hell you say!

So apparently, we're not supposed to be typing two spaces after sentences anymore? Well, while I like to fancy myself semi grammatically and spelling savvy, (admittedly not an Em or an Amy to be sure) I just can't stop the double spacing. I hope you all can deal.

Read about it here.

Oh, and Amy dearest, you'll be happy to know that EDAMAME is now not only a tasty treat for sushi... it's one of about 100 new official words in Websters.

Crossing the Threshold

My awesome new treasure is a booklet from 1948. My Meme gave my mom a box with photos and miscellaneous things from her childhood. In it, tucked away in a bag from a drugstore was Crossing the Threshold. It seriously has made my month.


There is a welcome letter, numbered gift certificates from a bunch of now defunct businesses, and a listing of sponsors.

Recipes galore! Where was this one last week when I needed it?!? It also has a nice listing of what to do with leftovers and how to reheat them. It's amazing how we take for granted our microwaves.

Articles and ads about budgeting. Need to furnish your new home?? Buy a sofa with clean lines so that it is easy to slipcover later! Don't forget HIS and HERS chairs.

Not many people can afford to pay cash for a home, so you *may* need to speak to your friendly bank to get a loan.

Bunny, this one is for you. I can send you better pics via email... it may help with your kitchen reno.

How I love thee npr.

I love. love. love. NPR.

Yep. I know this makes me a geek. Dave likes it too, so we're a match made in heaven. All I have to say for you haters is one episode of Praire Home Companion and/or Car Talk and you will be hooked too.

Where was I?? Oh yeah, so anyway. They have the MOST fun tool ever. It's a ROAD TRIP station guide. You type in your beginning and ending destinations and it gives you every station along the way. Where the hell have I been? This would have been perfect for our Georgia trip. Damn it.

Check it out for yourself.
http://www.npr.org/stations/

Stay tuned for JANET'S BIG BIRTHDAY post coming later tonight. I promise lots of delish photos and loads of birthday finery to oogle.