United States of Motherhood: July 2007

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Swimming Award Time

We had our awards ceremony for Edgebrook Recreational Swim Team last Tuesday. The kids did fabulous. PB got a medal. Li'l Man received "Fly Boy" award for his love of butterfly which is quite unusual for his age. I was shocked the first time I saw him swim two 25 yard lengths of butterfly in a row. Woah! Where did this five-year-old kid come from? Doesn't he know that our kids are terrible at fly? Guess not! He just seems to have that innate rhythm. You should see him dance!

Li'l Man also received the "Thinking" award for the amount of questions and follow on questions he had for the coach before EACH and EVERY lap. The coaches were soo patient. I know when he's trying to wrap his brain around something how endless the questions are. It can be frustrating for me which is why I was so impressed with the coaching staff when they answered question after question until he really understood, swam a length, then started questioning again. His curiosity and search for precise understanding will help him later in life I am sure.

Eldest won quite a few awards himself. He had actually made "Swimmer of the Week" on his last meet before he broke his wrist. He also was one of a few that got the good sportsmanship award for being observed displaying good sportsmanship to members of our team and others. I think this award made me the proudest. Swimming is, if you will, a gentleman's sport. No hazing. No dufuses! They get weeded out when the coach tells you in detail what sets you will swim in the next hour of practice and then says swim and expects you to remember the order, stroke, and yardage. I certainly think it is a mental challenge specially for the younger ones.

Sometimes, though, the competition takes the fun out of a team spirited sport. Kids can get a bit too competitive with their friends. So I love that Eldest was recognized for his sportsmanship. There are other kids that constantly compare times with each other while they are being staged before a race. Others will rub in how many qualification times they have compared with others for a particular meet. Eldest, with his easy temperament, just takes it all in and roots for his friends, regardless. He doesn't need to compare, although I do think he gets a bit hurt when others do it to him. I love that he doesn't reciprocate!

Our final award was one for the whole family. Given our predilection for breaking arms, it was quite appropriate that this one was called, "Save {Li'l Man} Award." There's been good-heartedly joking for weeks that he's next and we better watch out for Child Protective Services. Ack! A friend suggested we bubble wrap him. I have to admit, I've been more cautious because another child in cast would be ALL I need!

So, that's the wrap up for recreational swimming. King has a short break before we resume year-round practice, so we have a couple weeks free of swimming. It seems so alien and bizarre. We are getting to know our neighborhood again. Slowly cleaning up the carnage from our house and cleaning that fell by the way side. Spending time as family--not at swim meets--but picking fruit and veggie at local farms, window shopping, visiting breweries, making ice cream, and grilling in the backyard. So much free time to finally get stuff done. Who knows, I might be able to finish repainting the exterior of the house I started LAST summer before the fall rains come. Do I look as tired as I feel:

This Weekend at Blue C Sushi at University Village

Monday, July 30, 2007

Blog Victimization: Political Trolls

I saw a news story lately about liberal blogging and what in-roads they are making on the polls. That said, according the Washington Post, only 2 percent polled read political blogs. Hmmm... Makes one think how desperate the news is for stories and what their agenda is. Ahh, splediforous thoughts to ponder instead of moping about the sad demise of goldfish of yesteryear. I was still pondering as fast as my pinup head would ponder when, with much surprise, I discovered an unrelated and unsolicited comment on a family members blog about attacking the Fox News Station. Now, if the post had been at all about politics, I would have said, well, maybe. However, the post was about ZIPLOC BAGGIES. What in all Hades!?

So, as a curious little monkey would do, I followed the link and watched the silly video. It was pretty lame. Then, I went to the comment source. That's when I realized this political troll was deliberately collecting local blog addresses like a telemarketer and cold-commenting on all local blogs. How fucking annoying. Here is the dialogue that ensued:

Scout's Honor (that's me) said:

"Why are you leaving unrelated comments on people's blogs? It's a bit rude, especially when they don't necessarily share the same views. It's like putting grafitti in a park or littering. I'm sure Fox Attacks means something to you, and it's entirely your own prerogative to post/blog all you want on YOUR OWN BLOG. Just have some taste and courtesy and ask permission before posting willy-nilly on other's blogs such links that have NOTHING to do with their posts. Please be a good blog neighbor in the Northwest. Thanks for listening.

Her response was:

Communicating on a grassroots level through blogging is a beautiful thing that the Internet makes possible to anyone. What I have been doing in my spare time is something akin to the mass mailings I used to do in AZ to pump up business and create buzz. Except now, it’s about defeating (insert local politician here-see I won't pander to her tactics) in the upcoming election.What I’m doing is collecting all the local blog addresses in my immediate area. (People who take the time to blog are generally the thinkers and communicators in their immediate social sphere.) The next time (local politician) uses his franking privileges to send out blatant campaign propaganda for himself, I’m sending a comment/message to every blogger that I can find in my town.From what I know of direct marketing (which is quite a bit more than the average person — because my economic life depended on it for 15 years), this gambit will bypass all established media and create an immediate negative buzz for (local politician).

A local blogger that I sent an "unsolicited" comment to concerning Fox News had this to say:

(See my original comment above)

She then went on to say:

"Unwittingly, Scout's Honor hit the nail on the head about unwanted communication -- except, I did not illegally use public tax monies and the U.S. Mail to promote my own personal political agenda. So, all I can say to Scout's Honor is that I'll stop doing it when local politician stops doing it."

Note that I fixed all her mispellings! See I'm nice. I know it happens to us all.

Scout's Honor (that's me) said:

"Well that's a shame. Using the very methods you criticize others using really doesn't give you much credibility does it? I think you are mistaking any attention as positive, when really your methods and the negative attention it will receive will discredit your cause. Bloggers in the Issaquah and Sammamish area will just have to start moderating comments.

By the way, with a Political Science degree from Cal Berkeley, no my dear, franking is not illegal. I find it obnoxious too, but both sides of the aisle do it. It is the privilege of the incumbent, whether s/he be Democrat or Republican. I think it is part of what makes our political system so stable. We generally keep people in that are well-versed in the ropes of the job. Truly, it takes clear bad moves, criminal activity, or incompetence, to remove an incumbent.

That said, it used to make me nauseous thinking of the tax dollars spent on letters and photographs I received in the mail during the Clinton administration. It still annoys me when I see blatant tax dollars used for "public information" or better yet "a constituent service," as it is called in the House Ethics Manual, when they are so clearly campaign efforts on the taxpayer's dime. Again, sweetheart, it's not just (local politician). I have gotten my fair share from Maria Cantwell and Christine Gregoire. It's the system, not (local politician) alone.

So, if it bothers you, write about franking. Don't however, think it's okay to victimize others' blogs. That would be like American troops torturing and dragging bodies through the streets because Al Qaeda did it first. It didn't really work out in Abu-Ghraib, did it? That's about the same premise as you are doing here! Or more truly, it's really like a petulant, child-like mentality. He called me a name so I called her a name. It's so petty and ridiculous.

I'm sure, in the end though, it must violate some Blogger user agreements, so you really should stop. I would suggest that people start flagging you if you continue your silly campaign. I'm all for freedom of speech and love blogs that are controversial whether liberal or conservative, just keep my blog and my husband's blog, and my son's blog OUT of IT. Get some manners!"

So, the original comment from the political troll has been since removed from the family member's blog. I decided she would get no linky love from me because that would just pander to her methods, which I think Blogger might find illegal. In the end, it left me annoyed enough that I wanted to bitch-slap some sense into her. I was super peeved, and then I realized why? It was like dealing with my 10 year old bickering with my seven year old. She did it to me first, Mom! So childish, political troll. You turned me into a frustrated Mom schooling a petulant and recalcitrant child. Grow up! You'll stop victimizing local blogs when he stop using legally methods at his avail? Lord, woman, get some manners.

So does your logic follow that if someone vandalizes or graffitis my neighborhood then I can come to your home and drawn a big, fat Republican Pink Elephant on it? Can I glue a life-sized effigy of Arnold Schwarzenegger in Jelly Bellies on the side of your house? Can I tattoo a picture of Condi Rice on your forehead? Yeah, I didn't think so. But, that's how I view my blog. It's my home. It's an extension of me! Respect me and respect yourself!

One final thought, if you truly wish to advertise on every local blog your opinions, then do the right thing, become an ADWords whore, and purchase ads to put on those bloggers sites who would be okay with taking your money.

Friday, July 27, 2007

All's Qwuiet on The Home Front

Barbies ended up in a shouting match. Bitch slapping ensued, so kids were sent to their rooms to read.

I know, I know. I am such a mean Mommy. Nice Mommies let their kids take bats and butter knives to each other.

Mean Mommies make them stuff bits o' stuffs in their splendiferous brains. I think I might torture them next with a writing assignment on how we treat each other.

Or maybe an essay on WWDW: "What would Dora do?" Ah...the torture!

Recycled Dog Hair Update

Vern the Neighbor:

"Gosh Golly Goodytwoshoes! Hazel come look at this. The neighbor has a dhem dere varmint in her trees. Get me my shotgun."


"Snookins, that's no varmint. That's a Yeti-child. Get me my camera-doodad."

Vern Jr (still living with his parents as an adult):

"Nope, definitely a Tribble. I'll call Spock to confirm."

You didn't think I was going to do it, did you? Yep, I've installed the fur ball in the tree. It looks like a hamster on 'roids. I haven't seen any birds take it yet, but I did see a little sparrow eyeing it from my patio table today. I'm not sure if he thought he was being stalked by a predator though.

It did look like it's been disturbed a bit. I'll keep you posted. Reduce, reuse, recycle, baby!

Why Do I Punish Myself?

After a pretty tough day of disobedience and quarreling kids, I did something incredibly short-sided and stupid. Almost as stupid as taking away Eldest's DS...forever. I banned the TV for the entire rest of the summer just when summer swim team ended.

Why do I punish myself like this? Now, the kids come to me constantly--whining and bored. I send them away with threats of chores, if they can't figure it out on their own. They usually scamper away, but today, the boredom was so great that I got a full hour of hard-labor out of the kids (after Eldest finished Harry Potter in a record 8 hours). They swept, they vacuumed, they cleared away most of their junk of the island. They set the table for lunch--with fresh white napkins no less. Yep, they were bored.

I didn't figure this chore-desire would last long and I saw a very boring, whiny summer on the horizon. And then...the spawn surprised me. PB came down first with a craft project she found in her "Your Big Backyard" magazine. She labored for an hour to wash and paint a pet rock..errr. ladybug. Then Li'l Man got into the action, water coloring another specially chosen rock from the yard.

And now? As we speak, all three play together with about 30 paper drinking cups they found on the counter, making structure, pyramids, and towers.

Wow! When did they start entertaining themselves??!

Now they have moved on this morning to Barbie. Yes, you heard me correctly. My almost eleven year old is playing gleefully with a Barbie corvette with a stuffed Eeyore. The kids are racing the corvette again the Barbie mini-van and playing with actual BARBIES? GASP! Who knew that boredom could get them to play with their sister's toys? She hasn't even played with Barbies for years.

I think they might end as drag queens if summer vacation doesn't end soon. I know PB is itching to play beauty shop with her glitters, glosses, and polishes.

Or better yet, we had a friend in college whose Dad worked for Mattel. He was the engineer that actually came up with the radioactive Barbie shoes--didn't you know? That way, the shoes show up on x-rays when swallowed. Brilliant! That's it. My boys are doing product research to be an engineer just like their Dad, CG. Ahhh! He's also been known to get a bit drag queen on occasion as well.

Hmmm...something to ponder.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Blog Roll Please

I spend far too much time reading blogs these days, but some of these blogs are bright spots in my life. I thought I might share what I read daily:

  • Agaetic Blogjun: What does that mean? No se, but it is a cool blog from a childhood friend of CG's. Lots o' music too.
  • Boh-logging: Requisite reading if you want to hear CG's side of the story of our amazing, adventure-filled lives.
  • Broke and Angry: Recently married tech. guy who gets as fired up on the behavior of today's youths
  • Daring Young Mom: A great Seattle Mommy blog who happens to be Mormon
  • Dooce: A great Salt Lake City Mommy blog who happens to not be Mormon anymore
  • Eugemar: A local friend in Seattle who we've known and liked since college even if she's from Stanfuuuurd.
  • Green Republican: A Sammamish blog friend who is odd as me with her green/organic leanings and conservative dogma
  • I Am Bossy: Because who doesn't love side-by-side tampon comparisons
  • I Forgot Where I Was Going With This: A Eastside organic/veggie mom with hands full with 2 boys & a techie husband
  • Island Girl: A new found treasure of irreverant tales of Tenderloin hostels and of the religious ridiculous
  • Joy Unexpected: A down-to-Earth, disc bulging, weight-losing, irreverant, horn-dog mom of three and aerobic dancer
  • Lawyer Mama: a mommy and a lawyer (which is what I hope one day to be)
  • Mommy Grows Up: Another lawyer and mama who loves flowers like me
  • Motherhood Uncensored: A no-holds-barred Mommy who tells all about the horrors of in-laws
  • My Mommy's Place: Love the neurotic talk about play groups and school drama of this Mommy with an adorable daughter
  • Not Without My Coffee: Schlepping kids everywhere with lots of coffee--sounds familiar, eh?
  • Notes From the Trenches: funny home-schooling mom of gazillions of kids rennovates her house and keeps it real
  • Oh, The Joys: A funny, photo-shopping, Park Ranger day dreaming, working mom of two with a cool husband
  • Rock Star Mommy: 1/2 punk, 1/2 yuppy, typo-challenged (like me) mom of 2 and stepmom of 2more, married to a musician
  • Suburban Turmoil: Former journalist and mommy and custodial step-mommy living and changing diapers in the South
  • Suzanna: Mostly for super-coolflikr pics of herself in corsettes and the odd, unusual, and mind-expanding art & blog design
  • The Holmes: a Texas Dad of one prone to comic strips, revisiting his youth, and a political polar opposite of me
  • The Life and Times of a Broken Sith Lord: My eldest's new blog about swimming and Star Wars
  • Three Beans and A Sprout: A mommy who gets outraged about neighbors like I do at times
  • Toddler Planet: a Mommy of young children fights Inflammatory Breast Cancer and rises above it
  • The United States of Motherhood: Yep, I've been known to actually read my own drivel. Crazy I know with all the typos!
  • Wiping Up Snot: A mom not afraid to discuss her not-so-perfect (is anybody's?) marriage and kids with blunt honesty
  • Woman With Kids: An rockin', single Mommy making it on her own with two active pre-teen/teen boys (Me soon! Boys! Not divorced silly people)
  • Wonderland: Alice Bradley takes a lighthearted romp through the week's current events and stirs people up

Some of these I read because they are kindred spirits and others' blogs I read for fresh perspectives. Others are polar opposites. Diversity of spirit--it's what makes the world go round!

P.S. I do check out some family members myspace (bleck!) pages on occasions when they actually update them with pictures! (hint! hint!)

Vain, vain, vain

So I'm walking out of the bathroom, when vanity sets in and I check out my haggard appearance in the mirror. Bleck, I am thinking as my feet still keep moving. I run squarely into the wall. My mind screams as my three smallest toes on my right foot smash into the door jam and make a sickening crunch. Each separates on a different molding part.

What to do in that split second when my husband stands 20 feet away on an important professional call? A call that pays the mortgage?

Well, you don't scream, "fuck," like you really want to. Nope, you whimper "son of a buck." It's just not as satisfying and doesn't dissipate the piercing pain. I do the little tribal dance in a circle, trying to muffle my moans.

CG raises an eyebrow with his earphones on? Nothing to see here. Just a pathetic, toe-smashing, vain Mommy. Nothing see. Clear out. Disaster avoided.

I wonder what the guy on the other line thought.

Then I hear the shrieking of the kids, fighting over God knows what coming down the stairs.So much for averting disaster.


Time for Bad Mommy of the Year Award

Remember we talked a while back about Eldest's assumed scaphoid fracture? Well, after three casts, we now have a definitive result. It's assumed no longer. It finally showed up as a fracture on the x-rays. I still think that this is the most bizarre thing.

The Cast of our Summers' Misfortune

So Eldest missed A Champs and will now miss PNS Champs this weekend, where he had qualified in SIX events. Next season, he moves up to being the youngest of a new age group with faster qualification times. Arrrgh! He's pretty disappointed about the meets, but is trying to work it to his advantage at home. I'm such a sucker! Why you ask?

So, to add insult to injury, a certain Mom to remain nameless thought Eldest might have been exaggerating his injury and had him swim an excruciating 200 IM and 100 Back before he got out of the pool in tears at the Seattle Age Group Open. So, let's just assume this Mom feels very, very, very guilty. This seems to be a constant state in her life. Oh, the guilt. This is certainly a weakness to allow Eldest to work it.

On the good side: It has given him time to finish up the latest Harry Potter tome. I am about...oohhh...six books behind myself. Also, the Xerosox that PB used to cover her arm during swim practice works just as swell on Eldest. So he hasn't missed many practices. We are hoping it improves his kick like it did for PB. She's still recovering from balance issues in the pool. She got so used to the heavy cast that also floated that she now is a little lop-sided in her technique, but it's better than nothing. Finally, they seem to have a bitchin' plethora of cast colors and designs. The camo was a tough decision with a deep blood red, soccer balls, and American flags coming in as runners up.

So, for now, he's being pretty upbeat. We have this cast for another 5 weeks, and then check it again. He might get one more cast--oh the choices! This bone has notorious bad blood supply, so they say it could take up to three months or even surgery to heal. Surgery!!! Again!

That's it. We are cursed! Just so you know, Heelies and monkey bars have been banned from being used before all swim meets.

Still guilty here though:

Another Pin-Up Mommy of the Year brought to you by the makers of Guilt!

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Got Potty Mouth? It's a Bloggin' Revolution!

pic by Suzanna
I have never advertised this blog to anyone I know. I admit a few friends told me they found it through my husband's blog, but in general, most friends, neighbors, and family are oblivious. (I do think a few others read, but never mention it. ) Why you ask? Well, besides having a few inflammatory opinions, I've got a bit of a potty mouth. Note the NC-17 rating at the right of my page. I think most would be shocked, since I generally come across as a conservative, former PTA president, former lieutenant conservative mother of three.

It started in 7th grade when I first uttered the word, "fuck." I recall the exact moment standing by the lockers at Mendenhall Middle School. I had one of two best friends, Stephanie Olla (Hi Teri!), who had quite an encouraging potty mouth of her own. I was still a practicing Mormon, but oh the power of that word. It was revolutionary. It was naughty. It was forbidden. It was one of the first baby steps in becoming who I am today. Before that, I was the obedient third daughter who dreamed of marrying after high school. After, I started to question. I pushed marriage out and directed thoughts to Berkeley. I applied and was accepted to the honors program in high school. I paid my own way through Berkeley. Though Stephanie and I had a falling out in ninth grade, I still today think she rocks.

So, we come to today. I've come to the realization that it's time to out myself. Why try to be anything but who I am. So, in the famous words of Popeye, "I am what I am." I am throwing my blog URL on all my email. Why not? Let's see who I offend, who I amuse, who I shock, and see who comes back.

I would love to hear from you all, see who's actually reading, and any experiences/words of advice of your own from "outing" yourself.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Chocolaklaka Pimps & Hoes

So, what happens when you leave the kitchen with an 11 year old, 7 year old, and 5 year old in charge of making "blueberry" muffins? Well, when no blueberries are found, butt loads of chocolate chips are used in batter, on top, and for tasting purposes. Aaaah improvisation! SOOO HEALTHY of a breakfast. I bet Pop Tarts are better for them. Tasty, though! They were the chocolate muffins to beat all chocolate muffins:

Somehow, in Costco today, Eldest lets me know that we are out of chocolate chips. That's not possible I say. We had several Costco sized bags last month due to a mommy math error when it came to "cookie in jar" recipes. I bought quadruple the amount we needed for 20 jars for a classroom party. Yee gads! Poli Sci major for sure! So we had at least a year's supply.

Then, it came to me. No, I didn't blame the kids. I know who the chocolate chip monster is. The one that razzed us about eating 2 dozen Krispy Kremes between the five of us, but who I always find in the pantry with a handful of "nuthin." Yep, I call you out CG. You chocolaklaka thief. And look, it's now rubbing off the kids:

Yep, I married a chocolata Pimp and made more cocoalata pimps and and a ho!

Want a Good Laugh??

I stumbled downstairs today with wild cave girl hair, morning breath like fire, and frumpy pink nightgown in search of coffee.

It. Was. Not. Sleep. In. Day. Today.

CG gets busy making me coffee like he always does. In the process, he discovers I am not wearing a second layer of clothing, if you get my drift.

He chirps, "You want a good laugh?"

I snatch the coffee from his hands and murmur a bit suspiciously, "Sure."

He says winesomely, "I have a conference call at 8 AM. That gives us five minutes."

Me: HAhahhahahhahahhahaahhahahahhahaha.

Yep, it was a good laugh. always count on CG to look for the hysterically unimaginable.

Love you, sweetheart!

Monday, July 23, 2007

Hairy Experiences

This is a difficult admission, but one that is a long time coming. I am a terrible housewife. My house is a bloody mess. I hold friends and neighbors at the door because of the clutter and insane shedding dog hair. You see I lost the war! The dogs have become the victors. They shed their monstrous hair everywhere and I have given up. My very laptop has motes of hair between the keys as we speak.

You don't believe me, do you? Let's refer to the evidence:

This 12 inch in diameter fur ball was taken after one bath and brushing in one hour last week. This is nothing compared to the TWO full canisters of my Dyson vacuum that I had in one vacuum session of only our downstairs. It's insane.

So, in the efforts to make lemonade out of hairy lemons, I've decided to put the hair to good use. I hear there is a woman in Australia that will knit a sweater out of the hair. Alas, we live in Seattle, so the thought of my dog-hair sweater getting wet was less than appealing.

Then, I happened upon the solution. I was watching some wildlife habitat show on the Home network, and they said birds, and in particular hummingbirds, will use dog hair to line their nests. Wow! I loooove hummingbirds and have been distraught with the thoughts of all the birds that have lost their homes because they are tearing down a nearby neighborhood forest to build more homes for humans. In reaction, we have eight humongous cedar/pine trees in the back that have become havens for the birds. The cacophony at sunrise has been deafening through our open windows. I love it!

My backyard

So, I've decided to hang a box of dog hair in my trees to encourage the birds to make nests. I'm sure my plateau neighbors might think I am crazy. Nope, just loving the irony of all these baby birds kept warm, enrobed in my Seb and Grendel's fur, surrounded in cozy safety, unbeknowst to these chicks that those very same canines would love, love, love to make a lunch of them!

Recycle that dog hair , people!

Skinnings and Such

There's nothing like a great blog about getting skinned by the insane in a Tenderloin Hostel that brings back warm memories of my college experience. I found this fabulous post and it had me laughing in the hysterical God-I-Am-Glad that's over variety. You see, going to Cal at the height of San Francisco giving all the the crazies BART passes to Berkeley was just priceless. That grid system decreased the crime in SF, but made my life a peach. You know when you are walking on the street and a homeless guy picks up a boulder and throws it through a windshield...just because.

Or better yet, I was having lunch with my soon to be husband and another buddy in a cafe on Telegraph in Berkeley. You know, the ones where they take out the windows in summer. This homeless guy comes along with a cross strapped to his forward. A HUGE mother of a cross. We are talking tip of nose to hairline and almost ear to ear. I was used to this because being in ROTC, in uniform, and pregnant really made me stand out to the crazy, insane, homeless at Berkeley. Most of them were vets from Vietnam and generally harmless. I usually got the standing salute as I walked home down Telegraph to my coop. This was a bit different.

Anyway, I must have caught his eye because he starts ranting and screaming, making the entire restaurant turn and look--at us. You see, he decided we were vampires and he was going to burn us, sacrifice us, or some shit like that! It went on for 15 straight minutes. How does one blithely chew her sandwich while you have a insane, cross-strapped man screaming you are a vampire. Luckily, a really rough neighborhood punk came along finally and shut his skank ass down so I could swallow the mouthful of Zona Rosa burrito I'd been chewing for the last 10 minutes.

Then there was the time the "lady" wearing 6 layers of clothes from the free bin at People's park took a dump...in the middle of the road...then asked for my assistance in tying shut her dress...from behind. I helped her though I barely could reach the ties that didn't cover her bare bottom that smelled like....Berkeley's South side.

Then there was the homeless guy that came to our house on Alcatraz during a party. We didn't have curtains at the time. He rang our door and asked for money. We all said no. So he stood there for minute after minute with his face smashed against the window on our front porch. It took a Marine friend with a bat talking about getting his gun to make him go away.

Then, there was my favorite. We were at Cafe Strada by I-House. It had the best mochas and a great outdoor patio to sit and enjoy the evening. There we were a group of 7-8 military guys, my friend Amber, and I. This loony came up and I chatted with him harmlessly. At one point, a quart of vodka fell out of his pocket. He talked of being the first Democrat-Republican-transgender-blah-blah. He seemed fun, slight of body, lispy, off his lithium, but harmless until all the sudden he had his arm around my throat and started to choke me. Those brawny military yokels I called friends did nothing--CG being one of them! He has and will never live this down! He was in the process of getting up the nerve to court me and then let the crazy man choke me out?! Anyway, it took little Amber with her ringlets, but tough as shit voice to say , "get your @#$%^ hands off my girlfriend." That's all it took. Ahh! Memories of the Bay Area!

First Official Sleep In of the Summer

Yep, 29 days into our summer vacation, we have had our first lazy day of summer. I was so excited after discovering last night that there were no morning practices. You heard me right! After 2 different swim meets this last week-end, recreational swimming team has come to an official end. We are sad because we LOVE the Edgebrook coaches, but DELIRIOUS that we get to have our first sleep in. Now, we just have year-round swimming and it's at a reasonable hour only 2-3 times a week in the morning. No more double and triple practices. Hurray!

I told CG that it was sleep in day last night, so he, in his military prop-ah-ness, would not try to awaken us. I slept until 9 AM! I haven't slept that late in well over a year. The boys slept until 8 AM, which is really sleeping in for Eldest since he has an internal clock that has told him to wake up at 6 AM since he was 18 months old. Then there is PB. She's still sleeping. She seems to be the one who needs sleep the most. She is definitely like my father-in-law.

In fact, at the second swim meet, in the pouring rain, between events, she fell fast asleep. I woke her up 5 minutes before her 100 Free. She was not pleased. She was cranky, bitchalicious to me. She told me she wasn't swimming. She's never like this! She loves meets and competition. She just was so tired. I sent her to her wonderful KING coach Peter and at least she was gracious to him. Then her rec. coach (who also coaches for an opposing team during year-round) also got her enthused. Again, can't say enough about how cool Coaches Laura, Anthony, and Kevin are. All I can say is thank God for swim coaches. They don't get paid enough for all their hard work and hours at pools and meets.

Anyway, as I write this, I hear that familiar giggle from PB. She only slept until 9:38! She's back in her all perkiness glory. Good! She should be happy. Two months after surgery and three week after getting her pins out and cast off, she came in 5th overall in her 25 Back at Champs. After just finally being able to straighten her arm fully last week because of shortened muscles, she had the ninth fastest time in the 25 Free. Her relays didn't do so shabby either. I'm so proud of her determination, which is why it was sad to see her so unhappy and dispirited at the meet on Sunday. Her 200 IM was exhausting in a long course pool and she was DQ-ed on just one one-arm pull for her fly segment. To make it worse, her goggles were leaking the entire 200--she said she hiccuped which made one arm come out instead of two. Ooooh! Poor baby! I couldn't do a 50 fly much less a 200 IM at age 34 years, and here she was giving her best at 7 years old after surgery. The 50 Breast was better, but then she thought she DQ-ed on her 100 Back (she didn't--it was the lane next to her) and her spirit just left the pool. After her nap between events, her 100 Free was pretty tough. But now, after some sleep, she's giggling. Maybe she just needed some sleep. The 6 doughnuts we let her eat from Krispy Kreme yesterday might have helped too. Just saying...

So after enjoying this morning--the kids are making chocolate chip muffins and calling each other "pathetic"--I start my plans to get Li'l Man to try out for year-round swimming. He was too shy to cajole most of the season into swimming at a meet. Yet, we did get him to one (I bribed him with going to see "Transformers" if he got into the pool)and he swam the requisite 25 Free and 25 Back with style. He was adorable and actually did okay. I already see our practice load increasing. But, I see such adorable promise in these pictures:

Look at that form!

Look at my 5 year old!

Can I gush anymore!

P.S. CG told me he had slept in too! He didn't even wake up until 5:40! What a lazy bastard. :)

P.S. Parte deux: So no more perkiness. PB just called Li'l Man stupidest because he wouldn't let her stir the muffins. I can hear my Eldest getting very frustrated refereeing between the two. It does him good to see how it feels to be between the bickering. Yep, I am hiding in the loo while writing this.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Worry Warrior

I have been having nightly nightmares. I can't sleep most nights. I have been haunted by a local story of a little girl who was snatched from her own back yard, sexually assaulted and killed. Her father heard her scream and saw the killer drive away. He will probably be haunted the rest of his life with scenes of that car driving away, knowing his beautiful daughter Zina Linnik was alive in that vehicle. If only...

This monster was a prior sex-offender and possible illegal immigrant. Illegal because a municipal court assault charge that was unrelated somehow fell through the cracks. It turns out his last residence was a home directly across the street from a elementary school. It turns out that 60 days of jail with 60 months of sex-offender treatment after violently RAPING his 16 year old niece before this, didn't take. Now, it turns out he was living in the neighborhood where another little girl was raped and murdered last year. And he's a suspect in the rape of yet another 11 year old in Fort Lewis.

When will this stop?! When will liberal politicians realize that sexual predators are not able to be rehabilitated through counseling? A judge found in 1997 that Adhahn had completed sexual-deviancy treatment after a so-called counselor found that he showed, "significant improvement in sexual arousal and can control his deviant thoughts." What do you think the Linnik family thinks about his "control?"

When will liberal politicians realize that immigration isn't a right to give to criminals? They now suspect this immigrant has been killing children across the country. Apparently, even after his first incest conviction, the law didn't require deportation because it's not an "aggravated felony." Rape of a 16 year old niece isn't aggravated? He had pled it down to "incest" which is a crime of moral turpitude. Apparently the law doesn't allow grounds for deportation for one conviction of such a crime for immigrants legally in the country for five years. What the fuck! They get a second chance at sexually harming someone before we deport these bastards? We give them another shot at our kids!? In all, he is suspected in five similar crimes across the country. Turns out he was in the military and traveled the country. This makes me so sick that our military is so desperate as to have employed and trained this pure evil to "protect us."

So he's being held now for "immigration violations," and might possibly be charged with failure to register as a convicted sexual offender. My question was where was the supervision? Where were the parole officers? How did he slip through the cracks? We know these guys go back and do it again and again, especially after being caught once with a slap on the wrist, they learn to leave behind no witnesses. We need to simply treat sexual crimes with the death sentence. This is the only way to get these people off the streets. Studies show that they escalate. Having more than a few sexual predators in my own family, I know this to be a fact. They are not curable. Hell, throw them on an island, far from children and let them go medieval on each other. Heck! We put down pit bulls just for their potential ability to harm children is some states and yet we give these predators rehabilitation and multiple chances for actually doing harm? Something needs to change. Laws must change.

I know some people seek to shield their children from this horror. I say this is a disservice. I have spoken with my kids about the dangers of strangers AND of people they know. They know never to enter a car without my express permission. My kids have cell phones. My seven year old has a cell phone to call before she can accept a lift from a neighbor home from school. Most times, my kids simply refuse to get into the car with the neighbor or friend. And I have taught them that this is okay! Possibly hurting someone's feelings is way better than the risk.

My Eldest knows about my nightmares. They reoccur often and usually involve one of my children being taken and murdered while we are in public places like a swim meet or a park. The horror is replayed over and over in my sleep as I search madly for my children. Once awake, I then walk around the house checking each child multiple times as well as checking locks on doors and closing windows. My heart leaps when I find their beds empty, only to find one was snuggled next to another in a bunk bed. My kids, especially in summer, play musical beds.

My Eldest asks, while we are driving in the car, why I worry so much? I tell him it's my job and it's in my very being to protect him and his siblings. I tell him I would beat anyone to the ground, stab, kick, claw, bite, disentrail, disembowel to protect them from anyone who would do them harm. At eleven, he seems a bit shocked. Then I tell him he must do the same if someone tries to take him or his brother or sister.

He ask,"Mom, what if they have a knife?" I tell him to run, no matter what. If they are willing to show you a weapon in public, what will they do with that knife when they have you all to yourself?

He asks, "What if they have a gun?" I tell him I have trained with M-16s and Berettas. I was an expert at M-16s and a sharp shooter with the Beretta. Even with that training, it is very hard to hit a moving target without daily practice. Your odds are better to run than to ever get in a car with someone brandishing a gun. Almost cruelly I tell him even if the monster is a good shot, it's better to die there fighting than it is to be subjected to the sadistic cruelties and torture that happen when they have you alone before they kill you anyway. If they would kill you there, you can bet they planned to kill you later. He tell me in his still innocent Star Wars way, "Oh, so I should take evasive action." Yes, my son, if the time ever comes, please, take evasive action. I silently pray that never happens.

In the meantime, I am blunt with my kids. We talk about defense and where to hit them first. My kids know some pretty cool Jujitsu moves that can at times bring considerable harm to CG when play-fighting. I also don't discourage our 90 lb. dog from taking instant dislike to anyone who makes me or the kids squeal. He generally hates men because you see my dog was abused before he came to us. He knows what it feels like and will protect my kids just as I would. I don't however protect them from my worries. Protecting them from the idea of evil does little to protect them from being taken by that same evil. I will risk giving my kids nightmares to living the Linnik's nightmare any day.

I tell CG I had the same dreams again last night and walked my nightly routine. I recall my mother had the same routine. She would scare the bejeezus out of friends that were sleeping over in her nightly check ins.

Eldest pipes in again, "Mom why do you have so many bad dreams?!" I tell him there are worriers and then there are warriors then there are moms --Worry Warriors.

I dedicate this post to Zina Linnik. Feel for her family, give to her memorial fund and get angry at your legislators for failing to protect yet another child. Write a letter now. Let's force this on the national agenda and make forceable sexual assault of a child a federal crime punishable by capital punishment.

The Tacoma Police Department. has set up an account for Zina Linnik's family at TAPCO Credit Union. For more information, www.tapcocu.org or 253-565-9895.


CG asked me if I could come look at these week old moldy raspberries and pick out any salvageable ones last night. He was making a chocolate linguine with raspberry sauce. Pasta yum! Moldy raspberries not!

I declined to come look under the auspices that the delicate nature of raspberries is like cheese. If one is moldy, it's all moldy. When in doubt, throw it out is my motto. My stomach felt a shitcidence brewing on the horizon and made a weak gurgle. CG's thrifty and titanium-lined Polish stomach family background wasn't buying my advice though.

Finally, I came up with a rule of thumb. I yelled from the family room, "WWYMD! WWYMD!"

He looked at me questioningly. "What Would Your Mom Do?" I yelled. "Figure that out and whatever it is, DO the OPPOSITE."

The raspberries didn't make an appearance in the dish. Whew! Shitcidence averted.

Crazy Hair Day Extreme

There are times when my spirit might get a little away from me. Having been on the student council in high school, the rah-rah still comes out with the kids. Take this picture taken about 5 weeks ago for school spirit day for instance:

Is it bad to have found hair glitter in my daughters cast 2 weeks after and I found the same glitter glued with ear wax in my Eldest's ear just last week?

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Catchy Tunes

Been having some relationship troubles lately and this just seems to suit my mood:

Casts AWAY!

Just when the summer brightens with the removal of PB's cast after surgery 4 weeks ago, my Eldest went and crashed on his Heelys walking from the parking lot to a swim meet at Coleman pool. After swimming two excruciating events in which he added 10 seconds to each, we left and went to urgent care. He crashed on his scooter last year right before the same meet at this same pool. Coleman Pool, often thought of as a Seattle landmark (my ass!), with it's half mile hike from lot to pool, will forever more be know as the cursed pool of Eldest's youth.

The diagnosis was "assumed scaphoid fracture." Assumed you say? Yep, this is one of the most complex fractures to diagnose. They have to treat it blind since often the fracture doesn't show up on xrays until 10 days later when it's to late too set properly. So we have a cast. There goes PNS Long course Champs and Mid-Lakes "A" Champs. So much for all those private lessons, clinics, early morning practices. Bummer!

I've got two broken swimmers (PB isn't allowed to dive at meets) and one who decided he finally would swim his first meet on the last meet of the season. Ack!

On the good side, Eldest will have some free time with this cast until we get a follow-up xray. He's started his first blog. OOOOOHHH! Makes a Mom proud. check it out here:


Friday, July 6, 2007

Who Could Resist?

I am a terrible doggie parent. Don't tell CG but, I feed my dogs people food under the table. They in turn follow me around and return my kindness with great eruptions of gratitude.

Damn! Dog! The anal volcanoes are making my eyes water. The tail winds leave me gasping. I haven't smelled such malodorous splendor since we had a rotting diaper pail full of half-digested carrot nappies when we switched the kids to solids.

This is what happens when fried chicken meets 90 pound canine and no matter where I go in the house, he follows me.

His brown eyes don't realize how much his brown eye offends. All he knows is that his lady loves him. She feeds him. She even lets him sleep on CG's side of the bed when CG's on business trips.

He is loving me to bottom burping death. He is magnetized to me, gifting me with sheer nasal delights.

I pat his head, rub his silky ears, and try to figure out how to type with one hand while holding a brown bag over my face to prevent hyperventilating. I love this dog!

Euphemisms for my Womanly Blossom

I love my Google Desktop Search Side Bar. It tells me the weather. It feeds me interesting feeds from websites and news sources I frequent. And, until yesterday, I loved the photo portion where it randomly played pictures from my digital pics catalog. I never know what precious photo will turn up or which memory would be evoked. Eldest at six months giggling for the first time documented on film. PB with two precious pearly whites. Li'l man chewing a board book with twinkling blue eyes.

Let me preface this with the fact, as my butt widens by the second as I sit at swim practice after swim practice, my laptop is my trusty sidekick. Quite a few of the pools have wireless access or are in close location to a public library. So, often, there I sit in the stands, plinking away on my keyboard where I forget about my sidebar.

Yesterday, however, as I plinked away and people milled about, what should show up on my Google Side Bar, but a few select pictures from Li'l Man's birth. You know where I am going with this, don't you? Yep, they were full on crotch shots of my vagina.

Sidebar here: Do you think my website will now get an "X" rating 'cause I said 'gina again? Never knew the medical term for my coochie coochie would be worse that calling it say my cookies, box, hair pie, kitty, beaver, poot, bearded clam, poontang, fish taco...I am now enlisting CG to come with these because he knows more names for a 'gina than I ever will and I have one. I guess it's my mormon upbringing that shielded me from the usually vocabulary knowledge of body parts. CG has quite a few words at his avail for his own parts as well. Sometimes I feel like Pollyanna, because he starts referring to his parts and I thinking he's talking about dinner.

Back on topic, so there I was flashing everyone, as pervy as a laptop can get with a crotch shot of a baby bulging out my hoo-haa. First, I do recall asking the photographer in the labor room for no shot below the waist to be taken, and yet, they were taken. I should have deleted the pics that showed anything, but I just never got around to it. In CG's defense, he wasn't the offender, just related to her. Let's just say the title of the person who took pictures below the waist ends in "...in-law." My mother-in-law would be an incorrect answer. Keep guessing. You'll figure it out! Arrrrgh!

Anyhoo, faster than I have ever keystroked, I minimized that window in my sidebar.I don't like looking at my kitty, much less showing it to the world in it's most vulnerable state about to blow a 10 pounder. Yep, Li'l Man was so large, the geography of my nether regions and it's neighboring bladder was forever more changed a few minutes after that pic was taken. Sigh.

CG reassures me that the pictures only circle up for about 15 seconds each. Reassuring. So maybe only 5-6 people saw my beaver. Great! Perfect! Just cheesy!

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Online Dating

So, I discovered that my blog qualifies at NC-17 because of the following:

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words

whore (7x) sex (5x) hell (4x) hurt (3x) vagina (2x) crack (1x)

What the hell is the world coming to? What about the word fuck? shit? dickweed? motherf...oh wait, I wouldn't use that word! A girl's got to have some standards! Can you tell that I am pretty sure my parents don't read my blog?

Summer Break? What Sumer Break?

Many families start swimming as a healthy sport for the kids to get them in shape. It's also one of those few sports where the athletes are known for their intelligence with one of the highest GPAs of any sport. Finally, families think it will be a cheap sport with little equipment. Ahem.

After kids start to show promise, private lessons at $70 an hour come. Hundred of dollars are spent monthly on training fees, pool fees, practice and competition suits, lost goggles, silicone caps at $15 a pop, specialized back packs, mesh bags, fins, snorkel, front snorkel, buoy, swim parka, and the list goes on. Let's not forget $40 a swimmer for the meets 2-3 times a month. It adds up.

I don't begrudge the money because this is a life sport. But, the time spent is killing me. Eldest has three different practices with 6 hours of swim practice coupled with a three hour meet today alone--and we usually have a private lesson thrown in as well. Today for instance, my schedule:

  • 7:00 wake up all kids, eat breakfast, and pack lunch/snacks/water bottles as quickly as possible
  • 7:20 Leave for Bellevue for rec. practice for Eldest
  • 7:45-8:45 Rec practice
  • 8:45 Leave to Mercer Island for year-round USA practice; leave Eldest there for 2 hr. practice
  • 9:00 Return to Bellevue for PB and Li'l Man's rec. practice
  • 10:15 Leave for Mercer Island to drop off PB for USA practice
  • 11:00 Return to Beelvue; Lil Man's swim practice ends
  • 11:00 Leave for Issaquah to pick up carpool
  • 11:30 Return to Mercer Island to pick up PB & Eldest
  • 11:45 Leave for special swim clinic in Des Moines for Eldest
  • 1:15 Return to Sammamish (usually I stay in Des Moines until 3:30 but we lucked out & found a rare car pool)
  • 1:15-3:30 Finally home: a little over two hours to eat lunch and prep for meet at home
  • 4:00 Return to rec pool for rec swim meet
  • 8:30 Return home to Sammamish

Let's repeat this for the last week and continue most of it through the summer, and it's really draining me. I'm exhausted from the driving. The house is a disaster, as is the yard. Laundry has piled up. Even on weekends without USA meets, I lately have been too tired to do household chores. I'm sure this is the story of every sports mom. I think every Olympic hopefully has a committed and exhausted mother behind them.

It's also starting to work on my Eldest. He enjoys swimming and meets, but hates how much of his time is consumed with practice. In the summer, it's not too bad. However, it's a challenge most of the school year with practices requiring a 4:50 AM wake up, followed the next day by practices that go until 7:30 PM. Getting homework done takes the rest of his free time and is usually done during the commute.

Did I mention that Eldest starts middle school in the fall and want to do some rec. soccer? I don't know where he and I will find the time. He also wants to do some tennis and join the water polo team after rec. swim ends this month. Did I mention we have been attending a few water polo clinics in the evening from 8-9 PM? It's crazy!

I know, I know, this is a path we have chosen and, don't get me wrong, it has it's rewards. My Eldest swims with the 13 & overs and more than keeps up even though he is ten. He swims way faster than most of his peers from his school. His technique is improving and he is incredibly fit. His grades are excellent with almost exclusively fours on a 1-4 scale. He reads alot in the car and has finished four 200+ page books in the 10 days since school has been out.

I guess I just need to say I am tired. I need to do more than sit at practice after practice and drive hour after hour. I'm wondering how other sports moms do it? How do you find the balance? How do you keep from going insane? Putting on 10 lbs. sitting at hour upon hour of meets and practices each month? Keep your house clean and yard from being a ghetto jungle of weeds and dog poo? How do you find a healthy balance of giving your child(ren) every opportunity to be the best at their sport and doing right by yourself and the rest of the family? Remember that song from Karate Kid? You know the one! Something like, "you're the best, ohhh-yaaaa--nothings ever going to keep you down...I can't give up...you're the best in time." I looked for the video today to psyche me out:

So the video wasn't so inspiring as I remember. Get back to me will you? I only have about 1 spare hour left and so very much to do and all I can think about right now are my droopy eyelids and a nap...

Dream Killer

CG sits across from me as I blog. He has a small red bowl with sometime white, creamy, and slightly crunchy.

Mmmmmm, I think to myself. Ice Cream. Vanilla Bean. Granola. My mouth waters. Then, I get pouty 'cause he didn't offer me any. I decide to hint.

"Whatcha eatin'?"

"Potato salad."

Ohhh. Yuck. Okay, not yuck, especially since I made it, but still, when your imagination has already wandered to the idea of creamy, dense vanilla melting in one's mouth maybe with a sprinkling of nuts or granola (no raisins), the thought of week old tangy potato salad kills the dream. Peeved that my dairy day-dreams have been dashed, I counter back.

"Isn't that too old?"


Oh course not. CG, coming from a Polish household where I have personally witnessed raw bacon and hamburger being consumed and cookie dough (or was it pie crust? cheese? mystery white stuff in tupperware container?) stored in a refrigerator for three years, has a stomach of steel. Whereas if I even took another peep at that potato salad, I would be having shitcidences for weeks. Figures!

See, simulated below, if we were in CG's old country, CG would be in his element whilst this Irish lassie would have to cross her legs to keep the after effects of sausage, meat, cheese, and more sausage from poor unsuspecting victims:

p.s. In redemption, he did make me an excellent iced coffee today.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

How Very Remiss of Me

I've neglected this blog for a while. When I started it 8 months ago, I loved posting daily. After a while, life got in the way. Then, there was the having something to say that was post-worthy. Sure, I could have gone the so lame meme route. How original! Or the stupid blog awards route of promoting others, so they could promote me. No whoring for me!

No, this blog is about me and writing about frustrations, successes, raising children, politics, swimming,and mind wandering. While it's nice to get comments (Hint! Hint!) and see all who has visited, it's more about compiling something that says this is me--take it or leave it.

That said, I did have a 50 States project in the works. In my neglect, I haven't paid much attention. Then, holy shit Batman, I looked the other day on Google Analytics and I had 48 states. All that are left are Montana and South Dakota.

Now, I could get Montana in a snap. I have family there, but then I would have to tell them about my blog. Err...call me chicken. So, peeps, anybody know anyone from Montana or South Dakota you could forward this to? Puh-puh- puh-please! Surely, there must be someone who would enjoy my rants, eh?

Regardless, I'm in the mood to celebrate my 2700 visitors in eight months. This is definitely pin-up mommy worthy. In honor of our nation's birthday and with only 2 states to go, I submit to you yet another pin-up:

Yep, America rocks, especially when it's a Varga pin-up!

Bless America

I thought it was fitting to thank all the troops on this 4th of July who are making the ultimate sacrifice:

  • It is THE soldier, not the journalist that has given us freedom of the press.

  • It is the soldier, not the politician or war protestor, that has given us freedom of speech.

  • It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us freedom to demonstrate.

  • It is the soldier, not the attorney who has given us the right to free trial.

  • It is the soldier who salutes the flag, fights under the flag, and is draped with the flag upon death, who protects the right to burn that same flag.

Remember, your freedom is not free. It is paid for dearly by those who serve our country. Regardless of your views of the Iraqi war, let us respect and honor their sacrifice:

Happy 231st Birthday America!

Paper Wasters of the World: Unite!

Every blue moon, one of my kids gets a bit print happy. They all have computers in their rooms connected wirelessly to our printer downstairs. My Eldest has his own not so quality printer, but he usually also prefers the downstairs printer.

So, when one of them gets print happy, we often find piles of paper of various screen shots, contest rules, etc. I should have known with summer break here, that we had a shit-happy print session coming.

This time PB was the gross offender. We found FORTY-ONE FLIPPIN' FULL COLOR prints of her faves. I don't mind if she prints stuff out, but did she really need NINE frickin' copies of the same "Countdown to the NEW Barbie Princess Movie" Calendar??? Three prints of the same pollypocket.com beautiful bedroom?? Or how about TWENTY-FUCKING-FOUR copies of the same screen shot of the Totally Spies Design Center "Play" Screen???!!! ?AAAGGHH! With each generation of the Totally Spies group, you could see the print cartridge get lower and lower and lower. Each print was less blue and more purple. This morning, the printer cartridges are drained.

I do at times have some environmental leanings (shocking for a Republican hard-ass I know) and this just hurts my brain that I have 41 full color prints when we should have about 3-4. So PB's butt is suspended. She's banned from free printing. She must now and forevermore ask permission before every print.

Li'l Man doesn't see what the big deal is. He tells me to just, "Throw them away, Mommy!" Geez! It's that simple in a five-year-old mind. I can already see him at the head of Chevron as a despot spoiling the homes of baby seals in pristine bays in Alaska.

By the way, did I tell you how we found PB's crime against nature? Well, we are making these grossly-wasteful, but oh do fun paper finger puppets again. Yep, we are making those Ready Mech finger puppets. Wasting paper in a better way. These finger puppets are so way cooler than the ones I had as a child. Before you say it, yes, just read the last post: I know, I know! That was back in the ice age! My years are screaming by and the big 35 will be here in early August.

Okay, enough self-pity. Check out these rad (tee hee I love this word from my youth) finger puppets that CG and the kids made above.

Sunday, July 1, 2007

What's the World Coming to!!!!!

We have been listening to this super-cool Seattle radio program from 107.7 "The End" all morning. Called ubiquitously, "Resurrection Flashback Sunday," it's basically an oldies-but-goodies music for us new wave /modern rock /mod /alternative kids of the 80's.

CG wonders what it says about us that our fave radio is stuff from 15-25 years ago. You know, stuff like Violent Femmes, Erasure, Human League,The Poodles, Depeche Mode, the Ramones, Jesus Lizard, Elvis Costello, English Beat, Big Audio Dynamite,The Clash, REM, Devo, etc... I know what it means. It means that we have become the old farts of whom I used to make fun. I had a friend in eighth grade whose father would play speed metal from the 70's and rock out while he drove us to the mall. I recall us rolling our eyes in the back of the car, while I am sure he thought he was coming off shit-hot. Now...I admit that I do the same thing. I turn up the volume when I am carpooling a bunch of 10 year-old kids and listen to the unedited versions of Gwen Stephani's "B-A-N-A-N-A-S" or Green Day's "American Idiot" or even better the lovely anthem "Sex on Wheels" from My Life From the Thrill Kill Kult. 'Cause I'm cool like dat. Yep, CG and I are one foot in the grave.

Furthermore, if that isn't enough, it's Debbie Harry's birthday today. I remember thinking how amazing she was when I first saw her on Solid Gold. My God! She's sixty-fucking-one-years-old today. Good God Almighty, she isssssss old. This is for you "Blondie" :

Yep, we are getting so old. A friend asked me if her teenage daughter was getting paid enough to babysit at $6 an hour. I thought back to what seemed like just yesterday when I nannied the summer before college and was paid the same rate. Then I realized that was 17 years ago! Um, no, $6 is not enough!

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