Thursday, February 28, 2008

Am I Worth New Skiing Pants?

Remember I said last week we decided against skiing due to weather? Well, on Thursday, the weather turned, so we were able to go.

Well, turned in a Seattle way, meaning it wouldn't rain, but the snow would still be pretty melty wet at 36 degrees. Add icy in the shaded parts, and you have a recipe for lots of falls on the slopes. Wet falls. Miserable falls.

So, I finally gave in and decided to buy me some new ski pants. I've been literally putting off buying them for years. They are such a long term investment and I wanted to lose weight before buying some.

Errr...I said that when we lived in Alaska eight years ago. Nope, that didn't really work out to well, did it?

So, when we've skied during the holidays, there I was in jeans. I had some polypro underneath and only fell a couple of times. Fine in Alaska. Fine in Tahoe. Not fine here in the Northwest. This is very wet, very heavy snow.

So, back to buying pants. I decided I would buy a cheap pair, so I didn't feel too bad when they didn't fit anymore WHEN I lost weight.

See, ever the optimist, this Republican is.

On Wednesday evening, I found myself at BIG 5 in Bellevue. Great sale. Not expensive like REI. 50 percent off. I couldn't go wrong people. So I got these pretty bitchin' chocolate brown and black plaid snowboard-style pants. I might have added a fierce $175 jacket to match.

I know, I know. Not a savings, but the jacket will fit whether I lose weight or not.

....Plus it was $100 on sale.

....Plus, my other jackets would not have matched and then my OCD would have gone wackers.

I came home feeling pretty fly. Matching, edgy, cool snow bunny outfit for once. Yeah! Baby!

At 10 PM that evening, I found the theft sensor in the collar.

Dumb ass Big 5 employee forgot to take off the ink sensor.

Did I mention while shopping that every rack clearly listed that they were videotaping you? Every rack. You would think they have a loss prevention issue. You would think having sensors that work and go off to alert employees that someone has stolen a jacket or vica versa someone forgot to take off a sensor off a jacket by a law-abiding optimist, would be rather appropriate, yes?

Errr....No. Lots of videotape, but sensors that don't go off. Nice! Perfect. Fuck!

Did I mention I was taking Eldest to practice in the morning and then we planned to be on the road by eight? Doing some research....okay, CG did the research because I was all about waving my arms and ranting.... BIG 5 didn't even open until 10 AM! ARRGGGH.

I could just see me taking a huge, embarrassing tumble down the hill, disrupting that sensor, and being a splat of ink at the bottom. Yep, insult to injury. I can see all those teenage, hipster, snotty-assed snow boarders looking up from texting in the lift line and saying, "Wow, not only is the big-bottomed Mama a sucky skier, but a thieving one too." Sheee-it!

Big 5, I thought, "You suck stinky donkey shlong." I prepared to wear the (hysterical voice) mismatched jacket, when I had a perfectly fine one...except the fucking sensor! (end hysterical voice)

We ended up getting a late start on Thursday and passed by BIG 5 on our way back from swim around 8:50. My years of teenage retail experience told me there might just be someone opening the store. I cupped my hands and peeked in the store.

I saw my visage gape back.

Yep, those videotapes were mocking me. Big freakin' security! The monitors reflected my desperation. Would she break into the gaddamn store to get her sensors off?

Suddenly, I saw the twenty-something man in his little red coupe. Yep, the car was running. Yep, no one else in the parking lot. Yep, 8:58. Can't get there even an itty-bitty minute too soon. Yep, this had to be the manager prototype from every retail job I every held. Except, in the 80's, he would have his sad little pencil mustache to give him more bossy authority and his killer acid wash jeans and rad technicolor t-shirt to show he was cool. Yep, manager.

I rushed his car and I could see the fear in his eyes. She's got a shive. She's gonna gut me in this parking lot. I know he saw me look in the store window. He and I both know the store doesn't open for another hour. I knock on his window. Ohhhh! The fear...

I asked if he worked there. I asked him to remove said sensor ink tag. The relief was visible in his shoulders.

Then the snoggy authority of manager decided to seep in. "Yes," I had a receipt.

"Uhhh, you'll have to wait a few minutes."

He sat two more minutes in his car to show he was the boss. Then he rushed by me to the store. Lights went on, but videotapes kept taping.

The door opened.

Pants and receipt were handed off.

The door closed.

Two minutes later and an actually sincere apology from Mr. Manager and we were on our way.

...And she lived happily ever after.

She didn't even fall once the whole day. Seriously.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Waiting For Swim Practice to End


So, waiting around for hours at end for swim practices to end isn't all bad.

Take this sunset on Mercer Island:



Can I just say I love the Pacific Northwest!?



Now, guess who I am less in love with right now? I have to admit that I'm a bit peeved with Li'l Man.

He sat next to me tonight as I surfed the web on the couch. CG had just made me a "Flim-Flam" cocktail which includes rum, lemon juice, OJ, Cointreau, and, oh yes, rum. So, he suddenly jumps off the couch out of the blue in a very schizoid cat hocking catnip way and suddenly my cocktail ricocheted off him and landed on top of my laptop.

Flim-Flam-Fuck!

Can we say Deja Vu?

At least this time, I had the forethought to turn the laptop upside down to drain my laptop rather than pry off keys. But arrgh! I was red-hot mad. It was not a fine Mommy moment. I knew my temper was reaching uncontrollable, so I told him in a very tight, very controlled voice to leave.

Leave the room now.

I don't care where you go, just leave.

God help me, I have my father's Irish temper, but I will not take it out on Li'l Man.

The moment passed and now it's almost comical. As I type, the keys are slightly less springy, definitely tacky when I push down. This laptop has been through more hell than anything I have ever owned.

So, given my coffee spills, Flim-Flam spills, 2 crashed hard drives, missing the letter "a" on my keyboard, new keyboard replacement, crumbs from little people, more crumbs from (ahem) bigger people, can we all have a moment of silence for my little Dell beauty??

She takes a cocktail like a big girl.

(Crossing my fingers she doesn't have a hangover in the morning and turn my digital pictures into digital confetti.)

More Cream Cheese Issues


Besides my husband, CG, having the inability to walk ten feet to get a clean spoon, thus stirring my coffee with a cream cheese laden knife, now there's this:




Yes, my friends, that is my eight year old's slathered in cream cheese bagel. And yes, the mound of cream cheese on the plate was originally on that bagel. I figure it is at least 5-6 extra tablespoons beyond the 5-6 I left on the two bagel halves. Ridiculous. She's been doing this for weeks, I finally said enough and scraped it off in front of her.





I am always so careful not to pick on my daughter especially about food. I had food issues growing up and still do. My Dad in particular was and still can be pretty harsh. I don't want to pass that on to my daughter. However, her love of cheese, sausage, and mindless eating is getting out of control of late. She's still on the healthy range of her size and age. She swims competitively 4 times a week. She plays basketball twice a week. However, I have noticed of late she's starting to put on some weight in her middle that didn't used to be there.




Do I leave it alone? Is she bulking up for another spurt?

In the meantime, I will say no to unhealthy portions of unhealthy foods. I'm trying to emphacize health, not weight. However, I can't wrap my mind around the fact that she was going to eat a Noah's Asiago cheese bagel with 10-12 tablespoons of cream cheese. The cheese was almost as thick as the bagel, for the love of Jesbus! That's 360 calories for the bagel and another 450-540 calories in cheese. Yes, that's an almost 900 calorie breakfast for someone who's only four and a half feet tall!!

I told her that that's not a very healthy diet. All she zoomed in on was the word diet. I don't want to give her a complex, but she's lately been eating seconds...and thirds...and asks to clean her little brother's plate. It worries me.

She's making her lunch as I write. I made her put back the chocolate chip granola bar and cheese stick and add instead grapes, a handful each of blackberries and blueberries, and an apple. Again, I tried to make no judgement. I told her that her body needed more of the vitamins and good stuff in fresh fruits and veggies. I hope it works.

Now, if only I could make the same message stick in my mind, eh?

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Flawed Surveys Lead To Substance Abuse

Hold the phones, people. Driving back from swim practice, I got to turn off the blasted DVD and listen to my love, NPR. I may be Republican, but I loves me some NPR.

SEE! I don't discount news sources just because they might have a lefty-agenda like liberals attack FOX news. You see, I came equipped with a brain and a little itty-bit of reason. Combine that with some edu-ma-cation, and I can listen with discerning logic. Did you get all that?!

Besides, their musical vignettes between stories just gives one such a sense of relaxation. And, I hate radio commercials. Nope, not in the market for a guitar at Guitar Center. Or a used car. Or a mattress from Sleep Country USA.

So back to NPR, on comes a report that:

" ONE IN SIX eight graders in Washington have drank alcohol."

Oh, NOES! Holy Shit, Batman! Oh, the beating of chests and wailing of all good mommies across the state! Well, all mommies but me because I'm on to their surveys of middle schoolers. I'm on to their scurvy survey shite. And, yeah, my kid is one of those six and he's only in sixth grade.

Precocious little bugger, isn't he?!

Free-dic-u-lussss!

LAzy Cafe Au Lait Or Is That OLE! You Lazy Bastard!

I was flying along the interstate at 70 mph this morning to take my son to swim practice. The car was warm. The sky was still an inky black. The sounds of Harry Potter floated from the DVD speakers. The quiet sounds of thoughtful chewing of Noah's bagels with cream cheese surrounded us. Ah! The morning commute cocoon.

I took my first sip of coffee.

In my mouth went some creamy, slightly sweetened, superstrong coffee. Mmmmm...

I took my second sip...

I got a chunk of cream.

Blek! I tried not to spew as we hurtled down the freeway. With no recourse, I swallowed the liquid around the chunk and then gingerly drooled/wiped my tongue/spit out the chunkiness onto the top of my mug. I turned on the overhead light and saw a disgusting chunk. I open my mug and there layed a field of chunkiness.

Ugggh. My thoughts went to CG's less than diligent dishwashing. Then my thoughts went to the time this weekend when I might have left the milk out for too long. Bingo! Double yuck.

I called up CG on my cell to warn him to not let the kids use the milk for cereal. I know. I know. So cliche. Mommy in oversized SUV on cell with phone in one hand and coffee in other, driving too fast, steering with knees with overhead light on while kid watches movie on flip down screen in back obscuring in rear vision. I take my bow now.

Back to the call:

Me: I think the milk is bad. I had chunks in my coffee.

CG: Cream...static....mumble.

Me: What? So just throw it out.

CG: It's cream cheese.

Me: No, I didn't say cream cheese. I said there cheesy chunks in my coffee. It's the milk.

CG: No, it's cream cheese.

Me: Why would there be cream cheese in my coffee?

CG: I stirred your coffee with the knife you used for your bagel.

Me: WHAT? You stirred my coffee with a dirty knife with cream cheese on it?! Did you at least wipe it off?

CG: Uhhhh....no?

Me: *&^%$ *&^%$$% !!!!!!!


So, said knife was only maybe 3-4 feet from the drawer where we keep the silverware. You know! The one with the spoons! The clean spoons which are generally used to stir coffee. It was on top of a paper towel. You know the kind that can be used to wipe off cream cheese laden knives?

Men can be so freaking lazy at 5 AM when they make their women their coffee. Jeeez!

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Like a Blister in the Sun-- But Wackier!

Did I mention it was a beautiful, sunny day yesterday? Oh, I did. Did I tell you it was sunny the day before that? Oh, yes I did. And the day before that? Are you getting tired of me telling you about the orgasmic sun in Seattle?

Too bad!

Yep, we Seattleites are worse than Englishmen in the sun. We go sun-mad! Sun-crazee! Oh, the glory of that bee-u-tiful sun. I would kiss you, o sun gods, if I could. I would do other things to .... if I weren't happily married.

Where was I? Oh yes. So, funny I said happily. You see, loading up the bikes on my car's bike's rack was not so happy yesterday. Arrgh! Lots of grumpy words with the hubs. It seems that in the interim from the last time we used the rack, we purchased children's bikes with frames that don't fit on that pricey $400 piece o' shite. So, after grumbling and saying he wasn't trying hard enough, we got on our way, a half-hour late to meet friends at Pine Lake. PB's bike, in it's oily glory, was inside the car. So convenient we have a bike rack.

The park was beautiful. As Seattle kids are wont to do, the more sun they get the more brutish. Li'l Man got kicked in the head from a brute named Eldest on a swing. Did the bugger with a knot on his head cry? Nope, only a goofy grin. Now, don’t get me wrong, there were some tears here and there. Li'l Man got full-on tackled by a mate, but the sun easily smoothed it over. We tripped over and over in our sun drunken sun madness. We played football, soccer, ran around like monkeys; okay maybe the kids did because I'm still walking funny from all the biking we did the last few days.

Then on we went to Mercer Island for swim practice. The sun glinted on Lake Washington giving me hallucinations of spring. I ran myself to a grocery store with Eldest while poor PB swam in a bubble, hidden from the sun. There we purchased twenty-five primroses to plant. Lush primrose. Did I mention I have three huge bags of bulbs still to plant? I planted half of them last night as the evening sun went down.

Today, my kids looked battle-scarred from the sun. They have scrapes, bruises, gashes, and grass-stained knees. I asked Eldest how he got a particularly good one on his forearm. His response,"Ummm. I have no idea Mom. Don't know, don't care."

Yep, it's lucky we Seattle freaks don't see the sun too often or there would be riots in the streets.

Today, everything is back to it's normal self. It's dark. It's gloomy. Rain is on the horizon. It seems that our plans to go skiing in the mountains will be dashed. They've forecast rain even on the slopes. Bleck. Skiing in slurpies. Not going to happen. Planting the rest of those primroses and bulbs in the drizzle. You guessed it right! Not going to happen.

So, back to the gloom, we Seattle masses go back to being the most educated city in the United States. We hit the libraries. We hit the cafes to discuss politics. We mommies and kids on winter break go to the museums.

It seems so anti-climatic to go to a museum after yesterday's amazing sun. Sniffle. We'll probably hit a movie next. Meh!

I wish I had pictures of yesterday to reminisce, but I was too busy getting hysterical about the bikes---must get thee to sun-soaked glade now--to remember my camera. I did read something wonderful though that make me laugh:

Fellow Seattle blogger Absolutely Bananas wrote about her very humorous, kinda creepy sun-drenched experiences yesterday here.

Daring Young Mom also gave us a clue to what happens when our vampire-like beings get pictures taken in the sun.

See, I am not alone. We Seattleites do strange things in the sun. Watch out!

It's What's For Lunch

So, some people thought that Denny's would have been a better choice than my high-brow breakfast on Monday. Whatever!

However, to tell the whole truth, we don't always eat that way. Everything evens itself out. All in moderation.

For instance this lunch the next day:



See, no carbs unless you count the four Trader Joe unsalted blue corn tortilla chips with flax seeds. Lots of monounsaturated fats in the organic avocados. Tons of vitamins, carotenoid luteins, phytonutrients, beta carotene, plant sterols, in the avocado and again in the organic tomato. Crammed with calcium from the fresh mozzarella. Drizzled with olive oil, lemon juice, kosher salt, and fresh ground pepper. Ummm...yum!

People, are you not impressed? Admit it! You covet my lunch!

Okay, maybe I chose the lunch for it's colors. It'd matched my mood. Did I mention it's still SUNNY in Seattle?

Life, my friends, is gewd!

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Grace and Charm While Cycling

Remember how I said we went for an hours long bike ride on Sunday?

Well, last night we went for another hour long bike ride. Just so you know, this is the first time I've used my bike in oh...over a year. So what happens when you over do it on a bike?

Yep, my tush felt like I'd gotten a thousand spanks of a wooden paddle. Ouch! I couldn't sit on the bike seat last night. So I rode upright for the whole hour. Still fun, but I definitely needed to work on my endurance.

So what happens when you use butt and now thigh muscles you haven't used also in years, times two?

Yep, my friends I'm walking around today stiff-thighed, bent-over aching back, waddling like I have a diaper between my legs. I moan every three steps.

So graceful, my friends. So very attractive.

And what do I plan to do today? Yep, we want to go again. I think I'll go from my current toddler staggering to a crawl tomorrow.

Yep, charming.

Monday, February 18, 2008

(Gurp) It's What's For Breakfast

A Keeping it Real Recipe
brought to you by the makers of Coke-glazed Spam.


Ok, not really. It's from me and I've never had Coke-glazed Spam.



Step One: Take one plump, tender, deliciously flour-y Orowheat County Potato Roll. Or two. Make it three. Carbs = Gewd.


Step Two: Nuke homemade Sun-Dried Tomato Alfredo sauce left over from penne last night. You know the healthy kind made with real butter and lots of parmesean-na.



Step Three: Dip and slurp, my friends. Dip and slurp.



Yep, it's the breakfast of champions. It's like high-brow Shit on a Shingle or S.O.S. for those of you from the south or who've been in an Army mess hall.

Yep, high-faluting S.O.S.

Except the shit gravy saucy stuff looks more vomity than sh***y with the orangey-peachy color from the sun dried tomatoes. Those tomatoes also add some chunks. Since it's a little cold in spots, even more gelatineous, mucousy chunks are added. Bonus!

MmmmmMmmm. Good. Whew-weeee!

You covet my high-falutin' breakfast. Admit it!

Always on the Sunnyside




IT'S STILL SUNNY. Cold (31 degrees), but sunny. Life is good.




Even better than the sun, CG just offered (without out even being asked) to take Eldest to his holiday schedule swim practice in Kent. That's over 1-1/2 drive roundtrip from here. Add a 2 hours practice. That means I have almost four hours more of this sunny weather to myself.



This is important because on a sun-high from yesterday, I looked up the 10 day forcast.

That was a bad move, my friends. This is our last day of pure, unadulterated sun. Wet, rainy, gloomy weather is in our future in the Pacific Northwest.


Do I enjoy the sun I do have? Or start slamming my head against the wall for what's coming?

All pictures taken by me on my walk at 8 AM this morning. Gorgeous? Definitely. I'm hoping it makes my family anybody you want to visit me !

Sunday, February 17, 2008

How's the Weather Down There?

My Mom calls me all the time to compare her weather to our Seattle gloom. I guess it makes her feel better. If there's an instance when the Bay Area weather isn't so great, it's blamed on Seattle. The phrase, "I guess we got your weather down her," gets uttered occasionally.


So, today, I'm thinking we might have stole some California weather. It's been a clear, sparkly, sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. Miles upon miles of views of snowy mountain caps, but warm and sunny here.


So we met the day with a gorgeous breakfast made by the boys. Eldest, with some assistance from Li'l Man, made this stack:



They might have made more, if I didn't say the mountain was enough. We threw in some more thick-slab bacon, like yesterday. Mmmmm. Bacon. Then a bowl-full of very ripe organic strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries. Throw in a glass of pulpy OJ or thick vanilla soy milk. Add some real maple syrup and Nutella. Mmmm.

Then, we started thinking of what to do. The kids wanted a movie, but CG and I refused to waste our good weather by being inside a dark theater. Maybe we'll go tonight. For now, we had warm weather.

Now, being a Pacific Northwesterner, warm is all relative. It might have been 50 degrees today. That, my friends, is warm here. More importantly, it was dry.

So we went for a mountain bike ride, without jackets. It was a couple miles to the local lake. This was our first bike trip where Li'l Man rode his two-wheeler the whole way. He's been riding without training wheels since he was 4 years old, but we were never sure of his stamina.

The weather around the lake was gorgeous and we spent a good 2-3 hours biking this afternoon. Riding in the Northwest forest. Testing bumps and getting tricky. Eldest was the best at getting air. When it was time to head back, CG and Eldest took a real mountain biking trail (read muddy and prone to crashes) back, while I took the little ones home via the school so we could hit the playground.

We then played some soccer with Sebbie the dog in the front yard. Seb's like Air Bud when it comes to soccer. He uses all four-legs and it's nigh on impossible to get the ball away. It doesn't help that he's so big that he can open his mouth wide enough to fit the ball in his mouth and trot away. We played on until poor old Seb became an exhausted, weak tail-thumping, mass of quivering canine.

After soccer, came some bike washing for those who hit the muddy trails. I might have even sprayed down and had my eleven year old bathe in the street before he was allowed inside. Yes, we are those type of people. There are people that live in their garages. We take it a step further! We bathe in the street.

Next came a bikini clad PB running into the street. Li'l Man took off his shirt and put on shorts. Eldest was already in shorts--wet ones. Did I mention around that time it was 48 degrees? I'm getting flashbacks to Alaska when we would throw on shorts when the thermometer hit 30 degrees. 70 degrees was "Kill ME NOW" weather. I guess this means we've finally acclimatized, two years later, to our Pacific Northwest home.

Currently, Li'l Man and CG are washing the car.




Do notice that CG has NOT acclimatized! Here he is wearing his full length pants, vampire sunglasses, and hoodie while Li'l Man soaks up the rays. CG thinks he's hard?? Pashaw!

I don't think we have been so active in a very long time. It's amazing what a little sun will do for your energy reserves. I haven't felt this good in a while.

Here's to wishing you all have sunny weather ahead.

We are off to the movies. Something about Spiderwick, blah, blah, blah...

Shit Happens: Vacation-Schmay-cation

CG wanted to go snow camping for winter break. Crazy, I know. This involved going to an area which has had frequent avalanches this season. It involved digging snow caves to sleep in and snow shoe-ing in with avalanche beacons. It involved lots of dried food.

Uhhhh. No thank you.

I told him that that was absolutely not ever happening.

I did however encourage him to get it out of his system by going with a college mate. I also made sure his life insurance was update, because, if he was going to be a DAMN fool, he better leave us in style.

They were supposed to leave today. SUPPOSED TO are the operative words.

It seems that our friend "Weed" has gall bladder problems and the DIARRHEA. Weed can't come to play. So, CG starts immediately trying to convince me to go.

Beyond the fact that Weed has the avalanche beacons and training, ummm, not on your fucking life!

Never, ever going to happen. Deja Vu?

On top of this, I'm already in a bad mood because someone's husband kept her up at all times of the night trying to get lucky. F$&%er!

No means no!

I really wanted to deck him. He acts all innocent in the morning. Oh, sweetheart, that was just cuddling. Not when I remove your paws from my boobs for the 10th time it isn't cuddling. Get a clue!

So, I'm a bit grumpy. I was planning on some alone time, blogging with cocktails, hanging with the kids, ordering a pizza and now I have a bored CG wanting to go snow camping, so we can leave our kids orphans. Nice!

On top of that, Weed might still come over, the diarrhea and all, and be a houseguest so they can at least go snowshoeing. I have had enough diarrhea this week to last me a life time.

Where in any of this is my vacation I ask you?

Damn you Weed and CG! Damn you!

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Bacon! It's What's For Breakfast!



Bacon was on the menu today.. Yes, I know that's a fuck load of bacon. However, when you have a family of five, it doesn't last long.




Take for instance this six year old. He's slightly taller than average at the 80 percentile. He's about the same in weight. Would you ever guess that this kid could eat the following in one sitting:






  • TWO Noah's gigantic cheese bagels with butter
  • THREE pieces of said thick-sliced bacon
  • 1 Fried Egg
  • 1 large Strawberry



Hollow leg! You don't even want to know what Eldest eats. At 5'2" and 100 lbs, the kid is a skinny black hole. He does burn 1000 calories a practice at swimming, but still. He hasn't even hit puberty yet.



Our grocery bill already routinely hits $1000.



In the name of Thor, what will it be when these boys really start to grow?!




CG and I are screwed. Kaput. We might as well invest in Costco. They will own us.



So much for college, I think they will eat us before they make it. If you haven't heard from me in a while, give a call to our next of kin. I can see the headlines now. Young, ravenous boys eat their mother.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Party ON!

I partied hard on Valentine's Day. Didn't you? Yeaaah, party hopping baab-yyyy!

The Capri Sun cocktails were so-so.

What, you've never had a Capri Sun at a party?!

Then, you obviously aren't a party Mom.

Do you feel the triumphant tone of this post?

I made it.

I did not get sick. I was the last one standing of our family, but did not get the stomach flu. All emergency plans were averted.

I helped in Li'l Man's class party then hopped over to directing PB's party. They both had a blast. There's something to having your Mom or Dad attend your class party that makes a kid beam with pride. Hence, I was happy to have ten party helpers yesterday in PB's class of twenty-four. Not as much to do, but the kids do love their parent to be there.

So, after pretty much all-day kid parties, I was exhausted. I had blown my wad.

CG had plans to make a wonderful dinner ... except, the entire island, every counter surface and the kitchen table was covered with Valentines from the kids, party decor, games, construction paper, crafts,etc.

I could not fathom finding the energy to clean up just to cook, then clean up some more.

Instead, I had the Valentine's dinner of my dream.

No fuss. Just juicy beef. Melted cheese. Crisp produce. Salty pomme frites.

Yep, my friends, we went to Burger King.

I know, I know, so romantic. But sometimes, after being married for 11 years, it's okay to just be with your husband and family.

No pretense. Just enjoyment. You can't hope for better. Accepting and being accepted for you. That's what love is all about. I didn't need a fancy dinner to celebrate that.

Dipping fries in ketchup with three shiny faces and one loving man is all a girl could ever want in a Valentine's Day.

Maybe next year, we'll hit the fancy restaurant...or not?

Yep, I might be an expensive wife at times, but I can be a pretty cheap date. Besides, I'm trying to be on a retail diet.

Really.

"Right-o!" I hear you all thinking...

Thursday, February 14, 2008

A Valentine For My Love


What do you get your husband of eleven years? He, who gives you everything? Including morning coffee, without fail.

You give him some hot stuff. No, no chains and whips today, my friends. Just some teasing.


I gave him the gift of warmth. You see, lately, he's always cold. So I got him this bright orange polar fleece jacket I knew he would hate. Seriously, because it's IZOD. He hates IZOD. It wouldn't have been cool unless it was North Face or REI, but I wasn't going to pay that much for a joke. So, it looked like the type of thing his DAD would wear around the house. And I always tease CG that he's turning into a curmedgeonly Grandpa.


Then, I got him this to keep something warm inside of him. It's a soup cannister to take to school with him:

CG thought it looked like a pill.

And this, so he could look pimptastically hot:



Does anyone think this shirt bears a striking resemblance to Lady Kier's outfit in the "Groove is in the Heart" video below? I still thinks it's hot and he's pimptastically cool enough to pull it off.


Now, where will he wear it?


Who knows! With swimming, kids, getting his MBA, we haven't been on a date in months.


Ah! Romance!


By the way, he earned serious points for the red roses and card for me and valentines cards for the kids. He's a well-trained husband! Good boy!

Valentine One-Upmanship


Some people say I have an inner-Martha Stewart. Does that portend prison? Nah! However, conventional, regular old Valentines are just not for us.


We've never done just the pre-made cards. Or even the pre-made cards with candy. No, we stay away from candy and give small gifts. We have done this from the time we were in infant playgroups, pre-school, kindergarten, and beyond.


One year, we did cookie cutters. Another year was mini-books. Two foot Sparkly pencils. Party bags of trinkets. Necklaces. All for the whole class. Yep, it can get expensive. We do the same at the Holidays. My kids are known for handing out the cool stuff. We have a reputation to uphold. We also always print out a cute pic of the kid to glue on.

Ah, cementing that popularity through bribes.



This year, with our sicknesses, I was so behind the power curve. I was also flummoxed because this will be the first year Eldest, in 6th grade, won't hand out Valentines. Sniffle. So I bought a Costco-size Red Vines that we encircled with red construction paper and decorated with hearts for him. He'll be able, teacher allowing, to hand out a little love to each student in all six periods.


Next, we came to PB. We came up with full-size packs of sugarless watermelon gum. Usually I have something already ready from after holiday sales, something not candy, but I just was not on top of it this year. So gum it was because maybe it would pull the sugar out of the kids teeth before they rot from all the crap candy they will most certainly get. Better than nothing. We then glued, pasted, printed, taped, and swore our way to this product:


Yes, they do say "I'm stuck on you."


Cute, eh?


So, what did we get Li'l Man. Errr.... I had nothing. So he handed out regular old Spiderman cards with heart shaped lollipops attached. Yep, the tradition was broken. You know though, he was the first child that I ever gave a class list to and needed to give him no supervision. He carefully hand wrote every child's name and then his name, checked off each kid, and even thought to cross his name off the list. All in one evening. without complaining his hand hurt.


I was so proud. He is so self-sufficient. He's definitely the third child. Easy to please. Sometimes forgotten in the rush to get things done for the older two. And fine, so far, to be left to do his own thing. I feel guilty his Valentines aren't super personalized, but to him, they are enough. They are perfection. I should follow his lead. Maybe enough is just fine...


Nah! We'll do better for him next year.


Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Addicted-Schmedicted


Our router doesn't seem to be working. After being cut off from the internetz for the longest 239.5 minutes of my life, here I sit.


I'm in the coat closet. Shhh! Don't tell anyone.


You see, our high-speed cable modem is in our coat closet.


How lame am I??


CG told me before he left for class that I'd have to connect the old-fashioned way. I've been wireless for so long, I didn't even know how! I told him it was ok 'cause it's not like I have to be constantly tapped in, right?


Are you laughing??? He was when I told him that.


One hour later, I was texting him during his class.


"How in bloody hell do I get connected? Oh, that blue cable thingy goes in the back of my laptop?"


Yep, I popped my laptop's cherry. She'd never had a cable in her before.


After a call to the pimptastic cable mating service Comcastic for a reset, it worked.


She's liking it in this dark coat closet. Her fans are a-humming and she is connected with her lurve, the internetz!


The End.

Can You Feel The Love?

Honest quotes today:



"You pee on my keyboard, and you are dead to me."

Yes, you know I roll like that. I put my laptop down on the closed toilet seat while washing my hands and CG thought it would be funny to whip his organ o' love out and poise it above my keyboard. Honey, so NOT funny!




"Can you smell my breath? I think it smells like poo."


Nice. Where was this in my wedding vows, I ask you?? I finally smelled it while squinting and hoping my eyes didn't water. Noooo, it didn't smell like poo. However, it wasn't quite fresh either. Hmmmm..... It smelled familiar.

Then, I realized.

It smelled exactly like my first boy friend, Scott Keener's mouth tasted. Weird. It smelled like a 16-year-old kid's mouth tastes. I'm not sure CG was pleased with that assessment.

Love and marriage. Can you feel the romance after eleven years?!

Sorry, I'm a-feelin' the music today so I gots to go to a throw back from my rave days. What? You didn't think Republicans went to raves? You'd be surprised.



Yes, CG, "I couldn't dance with another!"

The groove is in my heart. I'll smell your breath anyday.



And Our Hellish Houseguest Begins the Final Assault! Help!

Eldest is down. Eldest is done. Yet another blow from all that is germy. I can hear this echoing in my head:





People, I am the only one left is this home of retch and frothy poo who has not succumbed. I am the last domino is this house of cards. How's that for euphemisms?




I can not get sick. I am a party mom in charge of 24 third graders' ferverent hearts and dreams of the best class party ever. I will give that to them because I am the bitchin'-est party mom ever.



Baby, I will survive:




Or maybe this version:




Which do you like better?

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

My Buddy...My Buddy..My Buddy and Me

My only brother and I had a rough relationship growing up. Ah sibling rivalry! It's hard to both be rebels in a Mormon family of six kids. Umm...he definitely won.

However, as adults we have a pretty cool, respectful, friendly deal-i-o. Besides, I long ago thought he was punished enough with his first psycho wife to make up for all the crap he put me through. :)

And, he bought me my first 12-pack of beer to take to a party. Big points, big brother. Mega points.

So swinging back to the present, he doesn't email often, but when he does, my eyes perk up.

You see he has a talent for finding the most disgusting of traffic scenes such as real pictures of actual people CUT IN HALF AND DISEMBOWLED from car accidents while texting. He forwards me pictures of athletes taking a leak on the Olympic field. Pictures of pumpkins shaped like sex organs.

Dude, really twisted stuff.

Ahhhh... Do you feel the love?

Tonight, he sent me another of his gems. I click with anticipation and a bit of a grimace to discover what awaits me only to find this:

This little animal really exists! It's called a Naked Mole-Rat, from Africa




So if you are having a bad day and feeling sorry for yourself, remember: Going through life is hard enough, but to go through life looking like a dick with buck teeth must be horrible.

Oh! That is so sweet. Thanks big brother! You're a champ. I feel much better! Love you, Kelly!

I See The Light

People, at this very, very minute, there is actual sun in Seattle. Watery sun. Weak, dappled light, but light none the less.

There might just be light at the end of the tunnel.

On other light news, CG, I repeat, CG, did change most of the 20 bajillion indoor lightbulbs. I turned on the downstairs bathroom light the other evening and was so blinded by it's magnificence that I almost tripped into the toilet. There might even be hope for the outdoor lightbulbs to be changed. Stay tuned!

I would like to give thanks to Helen for her husband heckling. Truly, you were too kind. Let me know if I can ever return the favor.

Many thanks also go out to Amelia, Leslie, and Not a Granny for their gracious comments about our horrible lightbulb situation. Thanks for the back up girls. You rock!

Finally, my troll flea seem to have disappeared. Huzzah! Thank again to Helen and Ferbit for helping me laugh her off my blog. Thanks chickadees.



I'm not sure if this video is for the troll or the obediant husband. Kisses!

Monday, February 11, 2008

Guilty Much?


Remember that Daddy-Daughter dance I mentioned?

PB was looking "up for it," so I let her go to much-anticipated dance -- over responsibly keeping her home for another 24 hours.


Here are the pics before the dance:





I am so blessed to have these two.



They are beautiful from the inside out.




PB wore my wedding jewelry. She was so proud. She preened in the mirror...then turned a little green.




Can you see CG thinking, "If she throws up in my car...Woman, you are mine. I'll throw the whole Saltine box at you?




She insisted she wasn't sick, so off the two of them went. CG gave her a gallon Ziploc in the car, just in case.



I sent the boys to bed early since we had a swim meet to finally get to in the wee morning. I washed dishes and puttered around.

The house was so quiet. No wretching. No giggles. No constant, obnoxious cartoons with sickly kids planted in front of the devil box.

Silence.

Only the tap-tap-tapping of the dogs following me wherever I went. They, with their swishing tails, seemed a bit lost as well.

When the Princess Baby and CG returned, PB rushed in and handed me a red tulip. She said she had fun. They actually had pictures taken at the dance--like a real prom.

CG pulled me aside later and said she could only stand a few minutes at a time.

That PB is one determined girl.




So, Sunday came. I took Eldest to a swim meet where he rocked his previous times. He happily hung out with swim buddies. I got a respite from the House of Spew and Frothy Poo.

I came home to seemingly happy children. Then, strike two of retchedness happened. Li'l Man made barely-in-time trips to the commode to make bum gravy. PB didn't even make it. Then she started to retch again. Ack! Best yet is today, CG is feeling the onslaught.

I feel Eldest and I are dominoes just waiting to be tipped. I have no time to be sick. I have a class party to plan. Three days.

Tick. Tick. Tick.


Do you hear something?


Yep, that what I thought. A typhoid Mary timebomb just waiting to happen.


Oh, well, I just keep flicking these germs off like the troll fleas I've been having?

What you don't have troll fleas?!


Lucky.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Withered


This tulip pretty much sums up how I've been feeling lately.

Dried up. Old. Tired. It's spirit shriveled.

At the same time, with it's hidden bulb beneath, I realize there is still energy there.

Still huge potential. Still promise.

Resilience.

A future still undecided.

And, yes, no matter how tired, still beauty in it all.

I'm still hanging in there. Hanging on to those childhood dreams.

I hope you are too.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Spousal Abuse

Help! CG is throwing Ninja Stars saltines at my head. Seriously. The last one whizzed by my ear. The dog is loving it.

Why? I might have impuned his masculinity by pointing out his self-chosen MBA homework file is a little girly.

Well, it's bright purple. So I suggested adding a pony. Or maybe an unicorn. Maybe a scratch 'n sniff sticker or two?

I might have made reference to Purple Rain. I might have sang "Little Red Corvette."

What?

He's the one who chose a bright, shiny purple folder that PB, our eight year old daughter, would love to have. He's also the one who still reveres Danzig, Metallica, and NoFX. The one who still holds on to wearing black Chuck Taylors and Doctor Martens. The one who claims to like all things black. You know, the former Army Captain who qualified expert (that's higher than a sharpshooter for those who don't know) on too may weapons to count. The one who like playing with c-4 (that's army-man explosives again for those who don't know).

Are the saltines smacking the wall really necessary? Ohhhh, scary, big man.

Listen up, shiznuts! You get cracker crumbs in this he-yah laptop, and I'm going to kick your pansy ass to Oz. Or maybe I'll freeze your boxers, if we're being juvenile. Don't fall asleep. I have a permanent marker and I draw a mean "Bi-otch" on a forehead tenhead like yours.

I think I mght have to shop for a Hannah Montana sticker to surreptiously apply in the dark of night.

Gah!

Ouch! He got me!

The pansy has pretty good aim with saltines!

Sick of Our New House Guest

Welcome to the house of spew and frothy poo.

Okay, I admit this is happier times a couple weeks ago. Now the snow has thawed, but it's thaw brought with it the most horrific house guest.

What lurks behind those happy shiny faces? What's to come behind those blood-red doors? Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

Yep, the plague has taken little PB as it's latest victim. So, instead of going to bed early, to be ready for the swim meet this week-end, I stayed up with her until 3:30 AM, with bowl after bowl at the ready. Final number 15.

We were a no-show at the swim meet. While Eldest is healthy, after staying up all night, I didn't trust myself to be driving at 5:30 AM to a meet. He is a bit bummed, but, in the immortal words of Annie, there's always tomorrow.

Did I mention tonight is the Daddy-Daughter dance?

PB is determined she'll be fine. She hasn't thrown up since 6 AM. How long do you think is enough to be safe to go in public? I kept Li'l Man home from school when he had this stomach flu, even though he also was fine by morning.

Crush a little girl's hopes and dreams or spread this festering convergence in Washington? Choices, choices.

In the midst of all this, we made cookies. Mmmm. Cookies. Sweet and buttery. Yummy.


O, how cute. XOXO! Kisses and hugs! I bet you wouldn't want any of that loving from this house of craptacular spew.

Probably crawling in germy goodness, but what the hell. I am becoming fatalist. I have the worst immune system in the world. No matter how much bleach and anti-bacterial soap I use, it's evitable that I will succumb to this vitriolic virus.

Have I mentioned I'm supposed to be planning a Valentine's Day party for PB's class?

With my luck, I'll get the puke pestilence on party day. I so need to get planning. Crafts to prep. Refreshments to plan. Paper products to purchase, Party bags to create. So very screwed.

Side Note: Why does it always fall to the Mom to stay up all night with volcanic child? I don't know if I can handle a third night of no sleep if Eldest succumbs to our vicious visitor.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Unappreciated and Dirty

Guess who remembered at 8:53 today that she had ordered the Salvation Army truck to pick up a shitload of stuff that was somewhere in that dung hole we call a garage?

She was very ambitious and said she'd have 3 bags of clothing, 2 bags of shoes, 3 boxes of housewares, a double oven, a toaster, a printer, 2 boxes of toys, an entertainment center, an arm chair, and a solid oak table, etc. etc. waiting for pick up.

She delayed the pick up twice, but forgot to delay once again. She hoped this would force the cleaning of the garage.

Did I mention the entertainment center was under 50 boxes of junk and stuff we have yet to unpack almost three years since we moved? And that the solid-oak-my-back-is-so-fucked table was on the opposite side of the garage?

Did I mention that there was no space to sort, move, budge, and kick stuff into a pile since all floor space was covered with xmas decor I threw out there last week? To accompany the Halloween decorations I threw out there in October? To accompany the garden tools spread all over the place from this last summer? To accompany knocked over bikes, soccer balls, recycling that didn't make it into the container,and lumber from a half finished gate I started last April?

Let's not forget the strewn about xmas lights I finally ripped down when somebody never got around to it. Or the piles of lights that somebody took out, but never put up in the first place.

Did I mention I she had less than 40 minutes until they arrived?

So, without coffee. Without breakfast. I dragged stuff. Documented it for tax purposes. Pulled it together.

I even put the bikes up right and swept the floor. Perfect? Not even close, but a start. A huge 8x9x5 foot load of junk is gone. Praise hallelujah!

So, CG, who helped not one little inch in the moving of furniture, picking up trash, sweeping, was asked did he notice anything different?

My preening, expectant little ears waited for praise. For a compliment. Please, anything. Throw a girl a bone.

He said he didn't notice anything and had the gall to complain there was some stuff blocking where his car went. He said I had filled in open spaces with more stuff.

You see, I moved his car to make some space. The car that's been in it's spot, warm and dry, while my car has only graced our garage for a 3 month period in three years until more shit replaced it.

ARRRGGH.

To top it off, I finally changed the two bulbs in the kitchen out of 30 + since Helen's heckling doesn't seem to be working. Nope, he's just spending time on semantics about how many bulbs exactly are burnt out--not actually fixing the ones that he knows are burned out.

I fervently believe one shouldn't say a damn thing if they aren't willing to get down in the dirt and do it themselves.

Well, CG, shut up. Shut the hell up. I spent two hours in dirt, dust, and detriment to my back, the least you could have done is said something nice like good job. Or maybe, what a great start.

Husbands suck greasy goat balls somedays.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Bubbles and Sparkles

Li'l Man's final number was a whopping TWENTY-THREE. Twenty-three offerings to the gigantic Tupperware Thats-a-Bowl of Doom.


I was up until 3 AM feeling nauseated myself.


So tired today.


And still depressed today. I can't stop staring at my feet and willing myself to get up, to no avail.



Can't get out of this funk. Get up! Get up!

It's better than yesterday.


Today I found the energy to shower.


Better than maintaining personal hygiene over a greasy ponytail, I actually painted my toe nails.



I went sparkly, using PB's sparkle over an OPI opalescent.

See. I am combatting the Seattle gloom, one sparkly toe nail at a time.



Corrupted

It's a middle school rite to be preached to about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes it starts a little earlier, but they will hit on the subject no later than six grade.


So Eldest, being in said grade, came home excited about a survey the entire school took.


"Mom, they asked three questions."


I, as always distracted with reading and commenting on blogs life-changing, super important bizness, quietly sigh, "Umm-hmmph."



He starts listing the questions...blah...blah...blah.


WHAT! Don't tell me you actually listen to your pre-teens?!


Then he gets to the punchline.


With a certain matter-of-fact pride, he slips out, "I said YES to all three."


What? "What?! What were the questions? " I squeaked.


Flickr picture by AlwaYs Be Cool


My mind fluttered wildly to all the afterschool specials of my yute. Here the little guy was trying to share his heroine addiction and I wasn't even paying attention. Meth-Schmeth!


"Questions, again, please." I bark out. I am intently paying attention now. Watching first borns lips. Absorbing every syllable.


Rolling his eyes because he too knows he has a mother than doesn't listen absorb information well on the first go-round.


"Okay, number 1: Have you ever used DRUGS or alcohol? Number two: Do you currently use DRUGS or alcohol? Number three: Do you plan to use DRUGS and alcohol in the future?"


"Okay."


"I said yes."


"Yes?"


"Yes--to all three!"


Oh, I am being punished by God for all my retard jokes. Hyperventilating more than a little, I can only apoplexically oogle my first born and hope for more information.


With a slight smirk, cause he's a snarky little bastard, he lilts out the following:


"Well, don't forget I drank that glass of wine when I was 11 months old. And the other day, I drank the rest of Dad's beer during the superbowl because I thought it was rootbeer. So yes to #1. Then, I am sure you guys will keep letting us taste your gross beer and wine, so that's yes to #2. And, while I don't like the taste of alcohol, I'm pretty sure I'll like it as an adult since you and Dad like it so much, so yes I plan to use it in the future. Three yesses."


He's right. He also said at first he wasn't going to say yes to #1 but a girl in his glass asked if it counted if she had a sip of her Mom's wine. The teacher said yes.


Based on these poorly crafted questions, I'm guessing the survey results will have the community up in arms. We have a DRUGS and ALCOHOL problem, yuppy masses. Our beloved children are at risk.

Flickr picture by katiew

My thoughts, as always, are what a fri-dick-u-lously and poorly-crafted survey. It might have behooved them to separate illegal drugs use with, say, the communion wine, eh? The accidental ingestion and subsequent gross out? The sip of beer, and subsequent spit out and gargle, just to see what beer tastes like. Does anyone think they might get some flawed results?


Then, I had an oh shit moment.


"Please tell me the survey was anonymous?" I already had visions of being called into the principal's office for supplying wine to a minor. CPS would most assuredly be called. I'd be dead to the PTA board. I'd get a stoning from the Home Association.


"Yes, Mom." He sighs impatiently. Whew!


So, now we know if we hear that 3 out of 4 teenagers have taken DRUGS or alcohol in our 'burbs, we should take those results with a grain of salt. Or glass of wine.


Yep, it's offical, we have corrupted our child with the devil's juice.


By the way, the survey didn't ask for the details of admitted alcohol ingestion. Say for instance that glass of wine mentioned. It didn't leave space to mention that we rushed our then only child to the ER when he drank that glass of wine (little devil didn't spill a drop) that I left on the coffee table while unpacking boxes after a 3000 mile move to Alaska. The ER docs laughed at us and sent him home to sleep it off.


Yep, corrupted as a toddler.


Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Absorbative


"Is that Britney?"


My just-turned-six-year-olds weak voice asked between spew number eleven and upchuck number twelve in the last three hours. Yes, I'm counting because I'm OCD like that.


"What did you say?"


"Mommy, is that Britney?"


Wiping his mouth, I realized his glazed eyes are glued to the television which is on Access Hollywood.


Shit.


"Britney who? " I ask innocently.


"You know, Britney Sh-peawers." He rests his head weakly on the couch.


Ummm. Stalling.


"How do you know who Britney Spears is?"


"She's that girl on the T.V. that doesn't wear underwear."


Oh. My. God. He's like a little sponge except tonight this knowledge--and everything else--is all coming out.


"I thought she had blond hair, Mommy."


Oh, what have I done exposing my baby to such drivel?! His brain should be full of Dr. Suess, not Entertainment Tonight.


Then, I am redeemed.


"She's that girl that doesn't do things right. She doesn't do the right things." His little voice is full of conviction.


Oh, thank you Jebesus. Although he's been exposed, at least we've taught him that how she acts isn't appropriate. Girl's got problems.

Picture by Jungleboy



Crap. Gotta go. Campaign of Chuck #13 has commenced. We've got problems too.



Doesn't everybody?

Can It Get Any Better?

Seriously, it's been a day for me.

I did muster the energy to take the kids to swim practice. It's a 50 minute round trip. Lately, I've been making it twice daily instead of hanging out at the club for three hours, just so I get an extra hour at home to make dinner before turning back. Normally, that's what CG is for, but he's at school and I've a pact with myself to stop eating out so much.

So today, I had nary turned the car around when Li'l Man starts to complain of a "sore throat." I sort did a "suck-it-up-buck-r-roo" speech. I figured he must have picked up my flu-ish, phlegm-a-rama plague. Luckily, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the bulging eyes and puckered mouth. I completely forgot how the older kids used to confuse imminent nausea with sore throats.

Shit! Shit! Shit! I swerved to the side of the road. Yanking open his door without a second to spare, he yak-ed all over the road. I split my legs quickly or he would have made a bullseye. I quickly pulled his protesting body out of the car and away from oncoming traffic, so we wouldn't die from the fast moving cars whizzing by on our teeny, barely there shoulder.

Li'l Man revisited lunch quite a few times in those minutes. Oh the technicolor yawns! Did I mention the heavens decided to open up and drench us with fat, cold drops down on our bent heads, furrowing down our necks. It's only 39 degrees out. Did I mention we didn't bring coats since we were not planning on stopping?

Finally, we finished delivering pavement pizzas. Done!

I gave him a cooler just in case for the drive home. After a couple minutes of rush hour driving on Highway 90, I see a little twinkle back in his eyes. My kids are so amazingly resilent. Eldest used to throw up and keep playing with blocks. If I didn't find the pile, I often would never have know he was sick. The only time we discovered he had ear infections were at preventitive care visits where we would find double, raging ear infections without the slightest complaint. Nothing. No, they didn't get that from me. If I'm sick, you know it (as evidenced by this blog, eh?)

So Li'l Man says he, "might have just been seasick."

"Hmm..." I say thinking about the little friend we picked up today because little friend's sister had been paying homage to the diarrhea gods. My thoughts wander to his kindergarten teacher who just returned to school after three days of stomach flu. I think suspiciously of today's pork sandwich. My driving could have done it too. So many options.

"Nope, it wasn't seasick 'cause Mom, there weren't any C's in it."

"Wuh?"

"No," he says with something akin to pride, "Just chunky yellow cheese."

Nope, he does not take after me. Never been proud of a particularly good vomit. Now poop... never mind.

Lights Out

Baby, it's gray outside. Too gray. I'm depressed. I hurt. Too tired to think.

Thank god for kids or I would never leave the house.

Getting showered seems like too much of an effort.

I've suffered from S.A.D. before when we lived in Fairbanks. I'm starting to feel it again.

Where's my first stop? Not therapist. Not drugstore. Nope, I need to get me to a hardware store.

You see, light helps. Light is good. Full spectrum light. Bright, sunny days would be awesome, but the earth doesn't seem to be listening to me.

So, I'll settle for replacing some lightbulbs because...oh...we only have only 30+ lightbulbs burned out at our house.

You think I jest? CG thought I was exaggerating. Let me refer to the evidence:



Let's start when I drive up to the house. Six bulbs here.



Let's look up at the back stairs. No surprise! There's 2 more. Do however note how very useless a skylight is in winter when you live in Seattle.

Running total = 8




Here we come to the downstairs bath. Yep, 2 more. By the way, this picture was taken at NOON. Note claustrophic darkness encroaching upon my very soul.

Running total = 10



Now, we approach the kids' bathroom. Note there are no windows in the shower/commode area which is closed off by a door. Feeling that "Shining" feeling? The kids certainly do since they've used our bathroom for the last week.

Running total = 12


Don't forget these two which are also in the kids' bathroom.

Above the kitchen sink, add one more. Running total = 15


Two more for the home team, here in the office. Total = 17

Burned out lights in bathrooms are popular in Seattle, didn't you know? Here in the master bath, we have yet 2 more.

Running Total = 19





Don't forget the back yard where we have another nine here. Total = 28


And six here. There's another 4 that I didn't even take pics of since they've been burned out so long, I almost forgot they existed. No wonder we never go in the backyard at night. Spooky.

Running Total = 38

At last, but not least, above our heads at the kitchen table where I'm blogging now.

Grand total = 39 burnt out bulbs.

Now, to be fair, maybe the outside ones shouldn't count, but I also didn't check all the lamps in the house, so I'm sure that evens things out a bit.

It's so dark, I can't stand it. Help!

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