I've got to get this off my chest...!

Dear Mike Jeffries and Abercrombie and Fitch

2013-05-09T17:28:00.000-04:00

Dear Mike Jeffries and your very bad, no good company,

Wow.

Did you actually say all those things the articles are claiming you said? You know, all those shocking things about not wanting fat or ugly people to wear Abercrombie and Fitch clothing?
(Click here to see one of many articles about Mike Jeffries' philosophy.)
Wow.

I imagine you've taken a lot of heat for those comments, but you really got me thinking. Let me take just a moment to thank you. That's right, thank you.

Just as I strive to be a good role model for my children while pointing out other good role models for my children, I think it is equally beneficial to show children how NOT to behave.

Thanks to your words and actions I can tell my children:

"Don't be small-minded like Mike Jeffries and his lousy company."

"Some people never mature past high school, and they stay small and petty like Mike Jeffries and his lousy company."

"There's more important things in life than the way you look, and once you truly understand that you'll be smarter than CEO Mike Jeffries and his lousy company."

"Respect people for their insides not the way they look on the outside unlike Mike Jeffries and his lousy company."

"You're beautiful the way you are and anyone who tells you differently is being ~~a douche bag~~ like Mike Jeffries and his lousy company."

"Life is full of opportunities and people who will value hard work. Don't ever think you need to work for someone like Mike Jeffries and his lousy company." (Click here to read one example of why you don't want to work there.)

"There are plenty of people who think like Mike Jeffries and his lousy company.
Don't let them sway your opinion regarding what is fair and right."

"When you need new clothes, I'll gladly take you shopping anywhere other than at Mike Jeffries' lousy company."

So, yes, Mike Jeffries, thank you for being such a narcissistic Loser (yes, that "L" is capital). I can teach my children lots and lots and lots of lessons just by looking at your hot mess of a corporate culture.

Sincerely,

A normal-sized, average-looking mom with money in her pocket and a commitment to never buy from your lousy company again

PS - I googled your name because I was dying to see what you looked like. I figured you must be one handsome looking man. Bwaaahaaaahaaaahaahaha. Oh, the irony of your stance on ugly people!

Thank You, Teachers!

2013-05-07T19:44:00.000-04:00

Dear Teachers,

Happy Teachers’ Appreciation Week! Boy oh boy, do I appreciate you!!

There are countless reasons for my appreciation, and I couldn’t possibly list them all. Having said that, here are just a few of the reasons why I appreciate you:

I appreciate the fact that when you see me in the local grocery store buying a case of wine on a Tuesday, you don’t mention it. You don’t even blink an eye.

I know my little chatterbox has unloaded volumes of family secrets. There is nothing that child won’t share. You’ve no doubt heard about her father’s flatulence and my inability to subtract double digits. I appreciate you not mentioning this during school conferences.

I appreciate that, although my son’s shockingly cluttered backpack is a direct reflection on the state of his bedroom ~~and the entire house~~, you have yet to report our family to the Health Department.

I know I have high energy kids who could benefit from a military-style boarding school. I appreciate you not ~~yet~~ recommending they be sent away.

You have kept me from a host of crimes and you are blissfully unaware of it. If it weren’t for you and your fearless teacher friends, people like me would be forced to homeschool. Can you even imagine me homeschooling? My children would still be learning to spell their names, and I would be in rehab.

You’re underpaid, underappreciated, and often overworked.

This week and all weeks…I appreciate you!

Sincerely,

A well-meaning but nearly incompetent mother

Shoeless Wonder

2013-04-28T21:16:00.002-04:00

My hubby ran a triathlon this past weekend.

You know, just a refreshing 500 meter swim, followed by a leisurely 15 mile bike ride, ending with a simple 5k run. Yes, that's what he wanted to do on a perfectly beautiful EARLY Saturday morning ~~while I slept~~.

He trained for this event. He swam. He ran. He biked. He even practiced the transitions between each event.

It turns out my hubby can run fast, swim fast, and bike fast, but he is painfully slow in terms of changing out of wet clothes to dry clothes and from taking off bike shoes to putting on running shoes. I helped time his transition times. I encouraged him by mocking his slow transition pace. Honestly, there are preschoolers who can put on shoes faster.

The morning of the race arrives. Perfect race conditions. I wait anxiously at the finish line. Eight runners cross the finish line, and then I see my hubby.

He looks great. He looks fit. He looks...shoeless?

He crosses the finish line in socks.

Apparently, someone accidentally took his shoes. Driven by ~~foolishness~~ his competitive spirit, he decided to run the 5k and finish the race in his socks.

After the race, he and his fellow ~~wacky~~ running buddies talk about Abebe Bikila, Bruce Tulloh, and Herb James Elliot. Of course, I have no idea who these people are, but they must have all accomplished great things without appropriate footwear.

I hate to brag, but I once went to the mailbox in just socks.

Now who's impressive?

Boston, You're Our Home

2013-04-20T08:05:00.002-04:00

The Stendells sang it so well...

"Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river, Charles.
Aw, that's what's happenin' baby
That's where you'll find me
Along with lovers, buggers and thieves.
Well, I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston you're my home."

Today Boston is America's home.

On a sunny Monday while our East Coast brothers celebrated the 117th Boston Marathon, terror erupted. Individuals went from cheering for runners to caring for the injured. Lives were changed in a heartbeat.

On Monday our nation was left shocked, scared, stunned, and heartbroken.

The week was young.

As the week progressed, law enforcement in and around Boston worked tirelessly while Bostonians heeded requests to stay indoors. The media nearly talked themselves into a babbling tizzy.

It culminated with an arrest on Friday. Ironically enough Friday is Patriot's Day. Yes, April 19th is Patriot's Day. Patriot's Day, for those of you not in the know, celebrates the first battles of the American Revolution (the battles of Lexington and Concord). The night before this first battle was Paul Revere's ride to warn the minutemen.

Boston, we love you.

I first met Boston when I was a high school teenager. My parents took my sister and I on a vacation to Boston so we could "learn some American history." My mother insisted we walk the Freedom Trail. All of it.

We walked in and out of over fifteen historical places while my parents seemingly read ever placard they encountered. It was the longest walk of my life. I complained loudly during the entire walk.

As a surly teenager, I have almost no memory of the actual historical sites, but I do remember seeing one cute Bostonian boy after another. My sister and I were convinced Boston was the hub of all beautiful young men. I'm now 39-ish, and I still think this may be true.
Case in point: Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Edward Norton, Matthew Perry, Steve Carell, and my hubby.

The point is ~~I was a boy-crazy teenager~~ I fell in love with Boston. It was beautiful and full of life. I'm not sure how you can visit Boston and not fall in love with it. I suppose it only makes sense, in some cosmic way, that I would go off to college in Ohio, find the only young man from Boston on the college campus, and later marry him.

Boston, you made America proud this week.
You are wicked pissah!

Go Sox!

Dancing with the Stars Athens-Style

2013-04-14T09:04:00.001-04:00

Anything you can do, Athens can do better.
It's not our town motto, but it should be. It would be, too, if we weren't such modest, affable people. As it is, we just keep our awesomeness to ourselves. Yeah, it's just how we roll.

Saturday night is a perfect example of how Athens brings it in a big way.

What does a school nurse, military man, small business owner, and an insurance agent all have in common?

They sure can dance!

Saturday night in Athens, Ohio was the annual Dancing with the Stars event to raise money for the American Red Cross.

Much like the popular television show, local celebrities compete for votes. They practice, practice, practice their dancing skills with the help of professional dancers for the hope of being crowned victorious. It's all in the name of charity.

Several hundred people gathered on Saturday night to cheer on the dancers, support a good cause, and be entertained.

Oh, the moves!

Who knew the guy who makes my delicious sandwiches at Brenen's Coffee Cafe could shake his thang?? The local insurance agent is no clown when it comes to his dance moves. My children's school nurse has an ass any 21 year old would covet, and a retired army officer can dance with or without his beautiful wife by his side. On top of all that, yellow suspenders have never looked better, and the ladies who were there know exactly what I'm talking about!

The talent of these regular joes turned dance aficionados was amazing. Kudos to them for donating their time and talent in an effort to raise money for the American Red Cross.

The Masters of Ceremonies kept the audience engaged, and the performances moved along flawlessly. The female MC really rocked it in a gold dress. In my next life, I'm going to ask for her figure. And the ability to walk in heels let alone dance in them, but I digress....

Best of all, of course, was the opportunity to donate to a great cause while spending quality time with two of the most hilarious ladies I know. I mean, really, it feels so great to laugh oneself to tears. Sure, one of them was a little gassy, but that's what happens when you eat a lot of cheese at dinner. No judgment.

Kudos to everyone involved in organizing and pulling off the event. It was an amazing evening!

At the end of the night, the true winner is the American Red Cross. They deserve not only our financial support, but our blood, too.

You can't see me ~~blessedly~~, but I'm doing a little happy jig as I write this.

It's a Roll of Toilet Paper Not the Holy Grail

2013-04-11T15:44:00.001-04:00

Call me Indian Jones.

It's as if toilet paper is as difficult to find as the Holy Grail. I am seemingly the only crusader fearless enough to track down toilet paper rolls when an old roll is empty.

Yes, this talent is completely under appreciated.

We have three toilets in our home. I am 98% positive two of the toilets are sitting by their lonesome wondering where their friend, Mr. T. Paper, is hiding. The third toilet is hanging out with an actual roll of toilet paper. I know this because I usually only tinkle in one of the bathrooms, and I am 100% sure that bathroom is well stocked.

Where to begin?

For starters, I only tinkle in one bathroom because my two ~~disgusting~~ children use the other ones. I've seen what they refer to as "washing hands" and I would rather not touch any bathroom surface after they've been in there.

Let's just say soap is optional and water is only required occasionally.

Yes, folks, waving your hands magically a good ten inches above the bathroom sink is "washing hands" to my children. If you don't have time to wave them magically, then just skip the whole wiping and flushing tasks, too, and bolt for the door.

There's just so much fun stuff going on here! Who has time to wipe, flush, and wash?

As we all know, when a roll of toilet paper runs its course, it can be nearly impossible to find a new roll. After all, you're in a bathroom. The hiding places are endless.

Toilet paper could be in the closet or under the sink or in the ... Nope. Pretty much in the closet or under the sink, people. Take your best guess. There are only so many "hiding" places in a bathroom, right?

I am the only one who can find the toilet paper in my home.

When I walk into the kids' bathroom and find empty toilet paper rolls, I am disgusted. Not so much by their inability to find a fresh roll, but by the fact I never know how long they've gone without toilet paper. Without wiping. Ick.

This is gross. I know. As I've said, they are ~~disgusting~~ children.

Now, however, I've seemingly become the only person who can find the toilet paper at work, too.

I mean really, people? It's a bathroom. There is NO SHAME in using the last of the toilet paper, but there is a special place in hell for adults who don't replace the empty roll with a fresh one.

Again, it's a role of toilet paper not a lost treasure!

An Open Apology Letter to My Digestive Tract

2013-04-07T10:56:00.002-04:00

Dear Digestive Tract,

I want to apologize for my behavior on Friday night.

In fairness to me, I had a really rough week. Monday was Monday (need I say more?); Tuesday I had a flat tire; Wednesday was my annual exam where a nice gynecologist shoved her fist up and into my hoo-ha; Thursday I started PMS-ing like it was my job; and by Friday I was pretty sure everyone was out to get me.

After all of that stress, I met friends after work and decided to eat as if I were representing an entire college fraternity.

Why I thought eating fried pickles, fried mushrooms, potatoes skins, french fries, and something called "nachos from hell" in one sitting was a good idea, I may never know. I can only say it was stress eating terribly, terribly out of control.

Incidentally, nachos from hell features not one, but two pork related toppings. Imagine a plate of nachos covered in melted cheese, onions, bacon, ham, and more cheese. Yeah, I ate that and then ordered fries. I'm ~~a health nut~~ coronary heart disease waiting to happen. Blessedly, the nachos did have a thin layer of tomatoes and lettuce on top so I'm counting that as a serving of vegetables.

I'd like to say I washed it down with water or some healthy beverage that wasn't full of empty calories, but who would I be kidding? You absolutely know with what I washed it down.

Again, I seemingly forgot you are not the digestive tract of my twenties. You are more sensitive, and you ~~deserve~~ demand my respect. Although I would prefer you not wake me with severe gas pains at 2 o'clock on Saturday morning, I understand the difficulty I caused you earlier that evening.

I want to tell you I won't do it again. I want to say I will never eat like a pack of starving college men again. We both know I am weak. Just writing about nachos from hell makes me suddenly crave bacon and cheese.

You've been a good digestive tract for the past 39-ish years, and I hope our friendship can continue. I'm sorry I made you work so hard this past weekend. I'll try to eat more thoughtfully ~~this week~~ today.

Yours Truly,

Emotional Eater

Georgia on My Mind

2013-04-04T17:05:00.001-04:00

Remember when schools were segregated?

Me neither. I'm just such a young, vivacious thing that I wasn't even a twinkle in my mother's eye when the Supreme Court ruled in 1954 that segregation in public schools was unconstitutional.

I read about it in history books. I know the transition from a segregated society to an integrated one didn't happen smoothly nor expediently.

BUT I did kind of think it already happened.

"We must come to see that the end we seek is a society at peace with itself; a society that can live with its conscience."*

I'm a clueless white lady so I thought overt, organized racial segregation was a thing of the past.

Yes, I know racism exists. Yes, I know racism is alive and well in the hearts of some very narrow-minded, ignorant people. BUT I thought the days of organized, overt racism were over.

That all changed when I read "Georgia High School Students Fight Against Segregated Prom."

According to the article, "The segregated prom has been a tradition at Wilcox County High School, with separate dances for each race for as long as people can remember."

Now some students are trying to change that. Yes, now as in 2013. A mere 59 years AFTER the United States Supreme Court ruled segregation in public schools as unconstitutional.

The article continues, "The idea hasn’t gone over too well with some people. Some students ripped down signs for the Integrated Prom. Last year, when a biracial student tried to attend the whites only prom, police came to turn the student away."

Georgia, what are you thinking?

I read this article and I actually thought I was reading one of those fake new stories from The Onion. Please tell me this is just part of some really bad joke. Please.

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."*

To the students planning the integrated prom in Georgia, you are making your community a better place. Do not be discouraged by the heartless acts of a few. You are on the side of justice.

"True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice."*

* Quotes are from Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. They are also some of the quotes etched in stone at the MLK Memorial in Washington, D.C.

My Little Runaway

2013-04-01T21:45:00.001-04:00

If you are one of those perfect parents with perfect children, please stop reading. Stop reading. I hate you. Really.

If you are one of those parents who just hope you're not scarring your children too badly, then this is a feel good story you'll enjoy.

Today was the first day back to school after a lovely week off. There were tears, stomping of feet, and unabashed sorrow. And that was just me! The kids were sluggish and grumpy, too.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go!

After a loooooong day at work, I return home to my kiddos. My son is clearly annoyed with his day, cranky, and basically a total pill to be around. His attitude, inability to listen, and overall lack of follow-through requires that I do a little something referred to as "parenting." He hates that. He absolutely hates having me tell him obvious things like:

"You're room is a mess so clean it."
"Your homework isn't done so finish it."
"The toilet isn't flushed so flush it."

After a round of consequences which included him cleaning the toilet (honestly, one more unflushed toilet and I will come completely unglued), he decided he had had enough.

"You won't be talking to me for some time," he said as headed towards the back door while clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

"Where are you going?" I asked this calmly while handing him his jacket.

"Canada," he responded with a twinkle in his eye and a slight smirk surfacing on his young face.

"Canada?"

"Canada or Washington, D.C. I'm not sure which."

"Hmmmm. Well, you better decide soon because they are in completely different directions."

"Humph."

"Well, be sure to call me when you get there."

"Can I have a cell phone to take with me?"

"Oh, no. You'll have to borrow a phone when you get there, but you can have a piece of fruit for your trip. Do you want to take an apple?"

"No thanks."

And just like that, he was gone. He got on his scooter and scooted down the driveway and out of sight.

I figured if he was going to Canada by scooter, I wouldn't get a phone call for a week. If he decided to venture to Washington, DC, I figured I'd hear something within the week.

I continued ~~reheating leftovers~~ making dinner.

Imagine my surprise when my sweet son scooted back up the driveway three minutes later. Into the kitchen he walked with his stuffed animal.

"I'm still not happy about cleaning the toilet for free."

I ignore this statement because I am against child abuse and I couldn't think of an appropriate response at that moment.

Later he brought me a piece of paper with a graph on it. The graph was clearly displaying a negative slope.

"Mom, your polling numbers aren't very good," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "You should ask dad how to raise your polling numbers."

Funny boy.

Funny boy may just have the pleasure of cleaning another toilet tomorrow.
I'm a mom not a politician. I could give a hoot about my polling numbers!

2014 Honda Odyssey

2013-03-30T12:18:00.001-04:00

Have you heard the news?

The 2014 Honda Odyssey is going to include a vacuum cleaner.
This means you will always have a vacuum cleaner on hand when you realize your van has transformed itself from an automobile to the largest waste receptacle on the globe.

This exciting news proves I am "of a certain age."

The 16 year old me would have asked, "What's a minivan?"
The 21 year old me would have said, "I'm never owning a minivan; pass the beer nuts."
The 30 year old me would have said, "I'm never going to let my kids trash my automobile."

The me today knows nothing sounds sexier than schlepping around town in a minivan with a built in vacuum cleaner.

Sure, what I really need in a minivan is a self-cleaning option like some ovens have. I want to flip a switch, walk away from my van o'crap, and come back to a spotless vehicle without having to break a sweat.

Short of that, an industrial sized vacuum cleaner, a built-in garbage disposal, and the ability to refrain all occupants from dropping trash on the floor of the van would work, too. I congratulate Honda for adding a vacuum cleaner to their minivan. It's certainly a step in the right direction.

I love to fantasize about ~~being able to afford a 2014 Honda Odyssey~~ what it might feel like to travel around town without being surrounded by crumbs, toys, and trash. Sometimes at stoplights I fantasize about being in a clean vehicle. That new car smell coupled with the absence of debris just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Again, proof I'm "of a certain age."

Instead, my vehicle looks like a good place to loose something. Like maybe my mind. Seriously, you would be amazed and disgusted by the ~~crap~~ bizarro items I can produce from my current minivan.

Believe me when I say, it is possible for a family of four to live ~~comfortably~~ out of my van for at least three days. The van contains a countless number of water bottles, three clementines, one apple, two half eaten granola bars, an overripe banana, a completely crushed but unopened package of peanut butter crackers, stale french fry bits, and an assortment of chewing gum. And that's just the edible stuff.

If you are ever in need of a napkin or Kleenex, my minivan is your go to place. Now I can't promise they're clean, but they are plentiful. I also have a small library of children's books, an equal number of DVDs, sidewalk chalk, one earring, a random assortment of crayons, a compass, seven glow sticks, a bicycle tire pump, a hairbrush which appears to have last been used on a cat, two neck pillows, six empty plastic grocery bags, one straw, a frisbee, three AAA guides from 2007, two different maps of South Carolina, and enough dried leaves and sticks to keep a bonfire going through the end of May.

The only item I can't seem to find in my minivan is a vacuum cleaner!

Mother Nature Needs a Midol

2013-03-25T16:41:00.001-04:00

I am not a fan of Mother Nature.

We have a long ugly history with one another. Just read "Surviving Heat Wave without Electricity" or "Sociology Experiment Gone Bad" or "The Essentials" to get a glimpse of our rocky past. I don't think I did anything to deserve that kind of mistreatment.

I thought maybe she was just going through a rough patch, but now I'm starting to think Mother Nature either has a seriously bad case of PMS or she is a total b****.

I'm trying to monitor my choice of words because my children hear everything I don't want them to hear and seemingly very little of what I would actually like them to hear. I'm not sure if asterisks count as swearing or not, but I'm cutting myself some slack because Mother Nature has really ticked me off!

What reason other than ~~the end of times~~ PMS can explain snow storms in late March?

Ladies, we certainly understand the emotional instability that comes with PMS. The worst symptoms include rage, irritability, bloating, and the desire to eat your weight in ice cream. I suppose Mother Nature doesn't have easy access to Ben & Jerry's so what else can she do but shower us with snow and sleet?

I understand the desire to destroy things when PMS-ing. I really do.

But then Mother Nature had the audacity to kill my daffodils.

She just ruthlessly struck them down with cold wind, freezing rain, and snow. That's taking the whole PMS thing to a new level. Too bad we can't slip her a Midol. I'm sure she would feel much better, and we would have a chance at seeing Spring.

The good people of Butler County, Ohio are so sick and tired of this weather they have written an indictment against Punxsutawney Phil. Yes, they are mockingly suing the groundhog because they are obviously ~~bored~~ tired of winter. I was in total support of their mockery of the judicial system until I realized the prosecutor was seeking the death penalty. That seems like cruel and unusual punishment for the groundhog since, of course, we all know Mother Nature is the root of this evilness.

First the daffodils and now the groundhog. Mother Nature, how can you live with yourself?

Stop acting like a total female dog.

Pre-Trip Preparations

2013-03-20T20:52:00.001-04:00

All of us have certain habits or regimens we follow before embarking on a trip.

We may stop our mail, make arrangements for a cat sitter, clean our dirty laundry, or do a host of other little tasks in anticipation for a few days or weeks away from home.

I have a little regimen I hope is not unique to me, but nothing surprises me.

I “clean out” the refrigerator.

And what I really mean is I personally consume all of the items in the refrigerator that may go bad before I return from my trip.

This means earlier this evening I ate 2 hardboiled eggs, three strawberries, nearly three-fourths of a bottle of wine, a chunk of cheddar cheese, a handful of pretzels, a tomato, 2 spoonful’s of hummus, and 3 garlic-stuffed olives… wait… make that four garlic-stuffed olives. Honestly, I can eat those suckers like popcorn.

After the wine, it really just turns into binge eating.

There is no need to point out that pretzels rarely “go bad.” Sure they may get stale, but that’s never stopped me from eating them in the past. After the wine, items don’t even necessarily have to be in my refrigerator. I just need to see them in order for them to qualify for ingestion.

I will argue I am doing my husband a favor.

Yes, I am a woman who sacrifices a great deal. No one wants to come home to the smell of rotting vegetables ~~or wasted wine~~, right? I take that risk off the table by just consuming it all in a single evening.

It’s my duty as the woman of this household to make sure we are prepared for our little vaca. If that means eating everything within arm’s reach, well so be it.

Let the vacation begin!

A March Madness of Another Kind

2013-03-14T21:41:00.000-04:00

I don't exactly understand all aspects of our nation's sequester, but I know I don't like it.
I don't understand a lot of things so this should surprise absolutely no one.

In fact, I wasn't really paying attention to the sequester news because it all sounded too familiar. Like children in a school yard, politicians started their name calling while refusing to take responsibility for anything. Unlike school children, they did this while making a hefty wage.

Now my interest in the sequester is growing because the sequester has impacted me. Yes, that pesky little sequester is putting a damper on my family's vacation plans. We plan to go to Washington DC to see ~~where nothing gets done while well-paid, arrogant, politicians fight~~ cherry blossoms.

I was hoping my family could go on a tour of the White House. No can do. The tours have been suspended because of the sequester. Yes, those tours are part of the trillion dollar cuts. This makes perfect sense, right? Those federal tour guides probably make beaucoup bucks.

The realization that the White House is closed to tours got me thinking more about this sequester. While I was wallowing in self-pity about not being able to tour a big white house, I saw this article: "Popular stipend stripped for many U.S. military service members."

My "Is this a joke" attitude changed immediately to my uglier "Are you pooping me!?" attitude.

So let me get this straight:

The sequester is automatically cutting things like college tuition for our military service men and women. You know those folks who travel to dangerous places, miss anniversaries, miss the birth of their children, and....DIE for their country? Yeah, those folks have their tuition reimbursement stipend taken away from them.

In the meantime, those charged with fixing this problem continue to get paid handsomely for their ~~work~~ failures.

Here's the thing about my "Are you pooping me?" attitude. I feel like screaming, ranting, and banging my head against a wall. Blessedly when Amanda Harrison feels like screaming, she does something a little more productive and powerful. She started a petition on change.org to right this wrong.

If you're reading this, please consider going to http://www.change.org/RestoreTuitionAssistance and signing her petition. Then take a moment and let others know that they should do the same.

If your not angry enough to act, then read this: http://americablog.com/2013/03/politicians-avoid-pay-problems-during-sequester-budget-cuts.html

If you're still not angry enough to act, then I want whatever drugs you are taking.

This truly is March madness.

The Ant Farm Haunts Me

2013-03-10T20:20:00.001-04:00

The Ant Farm Still Haunts Me

My son received an ant farm, minus the ants, for Christmas. Santa brought him the ant farm. I really need to have a little talk with Santa.

I bought him the ants. I really need to sit myself down and have a little talk with myself.

I ordered the ants and they arrived dead.

This was not too traumatic because my son and I convinced ourselves they were just tired from their trip. The instructions did say they could arrive "sluggish."

Getting dead ants into a plastic ant farm is really easy. There is no screaming, sweating, or incontinence. However, it only took a few days for us to realize these ants had a bad case of death vs a sleep disorder.

I was hoping that would be it. Bummer. No ants for the ant farm.

My son had other ideas. Under pressure from my son, I called the ant company. I explained about the arrival of dead ants and, unfortunately, that company offers really excellent customer service. They immediately shipped a new batch of ants free of charge.

This is when things got interesting.

The package arrived in the mail and it felt warm. The nice ant company put some sort of warmer in the bag to keep this new batch of ants from freezing on their journey to my home.

Like the first batch of dead ants, the second batch arrived in a small, plastic vial. Unlike the first batch, these ants were very clearly not dead. In fact, they looked rather rabid and excited.

The warning labels were clear. These ants will bite and they will try to escape. Under no circumstances should they be released into the wild. Oh goodie!

My children and I ceremoniously carried the vial and the ant farm outside. No way was I going to open that vial of ants in my home.

The ant farm is about 6 inches long and one inch wide. It has a lid that pops off the top. The plan to relocate ants from container A to container B seems simple enough. Open the lid on the ant farm, open the lid on the vial and dump ants into their new home.

Bwaaaahaaaahahhahhhahahaha.

Here is reality.

"Calmly" take lid off ant farm.
Beg your son to take vial from you.
Watch your son shriek in horror while running in place at the mere thought of touching vial full of squirming ants.
Take a deep breath, open vial, ignore the shrieking sound you hear, watch ants crawl everywhere except into ant farm, pee your pants just a little, drop vial into ant farm, close lid, and realize the shrieking sound is coming from your own mouth.
Watch your son run around the porch squishing all the ants that managed to escape with his shoes.
Take another deep breath as you then watch your son carry the art farm BACK INTO YOUR HOME.

All of this to say, the experience has made me think differently about having "ants in my pants."

Ewwwwwwww.

Middle School Orientation

2013-03-06T16:51:00.000-05:00

Middle school orientation is for parents and not soon-to-be middle schoolers.

Clearly, parents have a much harder time with the transition to middle school than their 12 year old children do. This is sad and pathetic, but also painfully true. Middle school orientation is held in the winter so parents have a solid two seasons to fret about their child's in ability to navigate the stressors of middle school.

Middle school takes a child from the comfort and safety of elementary school and throws her into the halls of junior high. I would be less concerned about this transition if I wasn't scarred from my own middle school experiences.

I clearly remember nearly flunking home-economics because my grape jelly was really more like grape soup. Grape jelly = yum; grape soup = yuck.

Middle school was also the time I had the worst hair day of my life that lasted a solid two years, my heart was broken by some nameless prepubescent boy, and I learned my mom was right about the consequences of not washing my face each night. Darn pimples!

Then there was the time I gave my undies to one of the geeks at school. During the school dance he charged admission into the boys bathroom to anyone who wanted to see my undies.

Wait. That didn't happen.

I was totally smitten with a rich boy. My BFF, Duckie, wasn't sure he was right for me, but that's mostly because Duckie had a crush on me.

Wait. That didn't happen either.

Well there was that one day when I had to go to detention on a Saturday morning. I met a rebel named Bender who was totally not my type, but I fell for him anyway.

Geez, that didn't happen either. Do I actually remember anything accurately from my own adolescence?

I think perhaps this sketchy memory is protecting me from going completely overboard with nerves regarding my own daughter's middle school transition. My own experiences were certainly less dramatic, less memorable, and less amusing than a John Hughes' film.

My real hope is she finds her niche and a BFF just like Molly Ringwald.

(Note: Molly Ringwald was the author's imaginary friend from 7th - 12th grade. In fact, they may still be "friends.")

Pukeville, USA

2013-03-03T09:05:00.002-05:00

Welcome to Pukeville. Please enter at your own risk.

After a fun weekend of entertaining house guests, my daughter woke up with severe abdominal pain. It was a school day, and I am an awesome mother so I told my daughter it was probably just gas. She burped on demand thereby confirming my diagnosis. She did make a valiant plea to stay home from school, but since when did gas keep anyone from going to school?

She lasted all of 20 minutes at school before vomiting in front of the school nurse.
(I'm not officially blaming the house guests for the puke germs, but let's just say I don't plan to expose my children to their cousins again any time soon).

When a child pukes it is foreshadowing of the end of days. That child will recover, but not before passing the puke germs to her sibling. The sibling will begin vomiting that same day at dusk. The house fills with a cacophony of puke sounds.

Two pukey kids means only one thing.

The puke train is headed towards the hubby and nothing is worse than a sick man.

Give me boils, typhoid fever, explosive diarrhea, or scabies, but please...PLEASE don't let my husband get sick.

He's such a good, decent, smart, handsome man... when he is well.
But...he is the wimpiest sick person. I've talked with other ladies, and apparently this wimpy, sick man trait is quite common among spouses. They just crumble.

You can tell our house has turned into Pukeville, USA by the appearance of "buckets" on towels by all the beds. For better or for worse, we don't actually use real buckets. No, we aren't classy. Our puke buckets are actually our popcorn containers.

Did you just puke up a little yourself?

Yeah, it's totally pukey to use the same container to puke in as the one you fill with popcorn on "Family Movie Night."

Too much information? Want to join us for movie night?

The clock is ticking here in Pukeville.
One puke, two puke, hubby puke?

The Girl Scout Cookie Diet

2013-02-26T21:14:00.000-05:00

We've all heard of the South Beach diet, the Atkins diet, Weight Watchers, and various cleansing diets. They all have pros and cons.

I feel it is time for me to share my Girl Scout Cookie Diet.
It's perfect for vegetarians or carnivores. There is no counting points and no counting calories. You just need to have a strong desire ~~to eat your weight in Girl Scout cookies~~ to try something new.

As I said in Those Cookie-Pushing Girl Scouts!, I really do think there is crack-cocaine in Girl Scout cookies. Why else would we spend so much money on a cookie? My diet takes advantage of the ~~crack-cocaine~~ cookie goodness so you don't even feel like you're dieting.

These cookies really are perfect for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

After doing much research, I believe one can supplement Girl Scout cookies for actual food. Perhaps this diet isn't right for everyone, but this will be my diet until I run out of ~~crack-cocaine~~ cookies. In other words, this is really a one or two day diet unless you purchase several cases of cookies.

You can thank me later:

Breakfast:

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Start the day off right with a fistful of the powdery goodness of Savannah Smiles. This cookie is practically a fruit with its lemony goodness. Two to three fistfuls of these cookies is the equivalent of one serving of fruit.

Follow that with crispy but light Trefoils. These are a perfect breakfast scone-like treat. I've personally decided that one box is the equivalent of a rationally sized breakfast.

Lunch:

Even if you are in a hurry, this lunch comes together quickly.

The Do-Si-dos are like a gourmet peanut butter sandwich. A dozen Do-Si-dos equals half a sandwich. Do not feel bad about eating two dozen cookies. There's peanut butter in these cookies and that means protein. You need protein.

Don't forget to have another serving of fruit so shove a few more fistfuls of Savannah Smiles in your mouth. Mmmmm.

Afternoon Snack:

You are now probably feeling a bit shaky. This is perfectly normal.
Once you eat an entire box of Tagalongs, you'll start to feel much better. The chocolate serves as a little dose of caffeine your body needs mid-afternoon, while the peanut butter on a crisp wafer is the perfect balance of protein and carbohydrates.

I find taking two ibuprofen at this point also helps.

Dinner:

Serve your family a normal dinner. Pick something that requires very little thought on your part because, quite frankly, you are probably having a difficult time concentrating at this point. Might I suggest a can of ravioli, or something? Don't forget to heat it or your family will become suspicious.

Trust me, you do not want to share your diet with them because they will then want your cookies or they will judge you. Neither is very helpful to your effort to follow the Girls Scout Cookie Diet.

After your family is fed, open a box of Somoas and eat the entire box. The coconut and chocolate will revive your spirit.

Again, have about two or three fistfuls of Savannah Smiles. Fruit is a very important part of a healthy diet.

For dessert, treat yourself to a sleeve of Thin Mints. You deserve it!

Congratulate yourself on sticking to your diet.
Who says diets are hard?

A Nearly Naked Man in a Tub with a Drill

2013-02-24T18:36:00.000-05:00

I know the title sounds a little like the beginning or ending of a really bad joke.

It's no joke. It's my life!

Before I explain to you, dear reader, the reason I found my husband nearly naked in the bathtub with a cordless drill in his hand, I feel compelled to say, for the umpteenth time, I've got to learn to censor myself.

Why do I feel absolutely driven to divulge this kind of information?

Although it's a rhetorical question, I think the answer rests in my undaunted belief that someone out there in cyberspace will realize how wonderful their life actually is in comparison to my own. Thus, I've done a good cyberspace deed. OR someone will read this and think, "Yeah, the same thing happened to me!" Thus, I've done a good cyberspace deed again by proving to that poor soul that she isn't the only idiot on the planet. Otherwise, I'm just completely embarrassing myself ~~which would be no different from any other day~~.

None of this, of course, changes the fact that I saw my husband walking through the house in his bathrobe carrying his drill. And by "drill" I mean his cordless drill.

I was curious and followed him.

I found him in the bathtub, hunched over the bathtub drain, unscrewing the drain with his drill. Again, people, I'm being literal. It really was a drill.

A clogged drain.

Uh-oh. That cannot be good.

The water was suddenly not draining well, and he wanted to fix it.

Well, now I'm embarrassed. I had just finished showering. The drain wasn't clogged when I showered. I apparently had clogged it with one shower. Impressive, right?

Stay with me.

I joined an aqua aerobics class recently because my foot hurts, and I wanted physical activity that wouldn't hurt my foot. Before I get all the blame in this story, I need to add that my hubby is a health-nut and he encouraged me to join the aqua aerobics class. He's partly to blame for the darn drain.

Well, it's not really my fault I had to put on a swimsuit in the dead of winter. The pool rules insist I wear a swimsuit while in the pool. I would have preferred yoga pants and and a sweater, but I don't make the pool rules.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

It's the dead of winter and I'm hairy. My winter coat is in full swing by mid January and nowhere near swimsuit ready. Nowhere near it!

I had some serious landscaping to do if I was going to venture into a public area in a swimsuit. I didn't want to scare young children. Plus it's hunting season in these parts, and I was looking a little like Sasquatch in a one piece swimsuit. There is a show "Finding Bigfoot" and had they stumbled upon me pre-shave, they would have sworn they found their Bigfoot. God bless Gillette.

So there you have it. I single-handedly managed to clog up the bathtub drain with my 6 pounds of shaved off hair.

I would be more disgusted by this had I not just lost several pounds of weight ~~in hair~~.

Hey, a pound is a pound.

Just Another Example of Why I Stink at Parenting

2013-02-21T19:46:00.002-05:00

Leave it to our children to remind us of how awful we are at parenting.

I have countless examples to prove this statement, but I'm only going to share one. I think you'll agree I totally stink!

My daughter has been complaining for ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ ~~months~~ months and months that she cannot see well.

"Schedule eye appointment for daughter" has been on my to-do list for ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ ~~months~~ months and months. In fairness, my to-do lists are as long as a Steinbeck novel.

Eventually the appointment was made. Even longer thereafter, the appointment occurred. The results were conclusive. My daughter needs glasses.

She is thrilled about this because ~~blindness sucks nearly as much as I do~~ she has friends with glasses and she thinks glasses are cool.

Finally the glasses arrive. I am estimating the glasses arrived a good 8-9 months following her first complaints about her blurry vision. Yes, I am a ~~horrible~~ less than perfect mother!

She wears the glasses home from the appointment. During the entire car ride she gleefully announces obvious things while inadvertently making me feel like a total failure!

"Look at the leaves on that tree!"
"I had no idea those houses had so many details!"
"I love being able to see!"

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everyone knows vision is a plus. Who wouldn't want to be able to see clearly...?
(Insert the sound of a record scratching)
My daughter? What??

She's had her glasses for less than a week and guess what.
Go ahead. Guess.

She doesn't think they are "cool" anymore.
These beautiful, expensive, took-forever-to-pick-out-just-the-right-pair glasses are not cool anymore.

She's a little embarrassed to wear them at school which incidentally is the number one place I think she should wear them. She's choosing blurry vision instead of clear eyesight. Apparently months and months of blurry vision as led her to believe she can, if absolutely necessary, make due without seeing.

I'm going to stop beating myself up about this, and go back to my unending "to do" list.

Next up..."Make orthodontia appointment for children."

This ought to be fun!

Happy Birthday, Ohio University!

2013-02-18T19:35:00.002-05:00

(No lip-syncing...)
Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear OU--whoo... Happy birthday to you!

On February 18, 1804, the General Assembly of Ohio passed an act to establish "an university in the town of Athens."

This makes Ohio University the best and oldest university in Ohio. In fact, it is also the best and oldest university in the Northwest Territory. In truth, it remains the best university in the entire nation even though there are several older institutions.

Am I biased?
No. Why ever would you even think so?

Why is Ohio University the best university in the free world?

Just ask any alumnus of Ohio University. Any proud Bobcat can rattle off a zillion reasons why O.U. is excellent.

Here are my top 5 reasons why OU is the best university:

5. The gorgeous scenery. Beautiful brick buildings sit along the Hocking River surrounded by lovely rolling hills. Southeastern Ohio is a beautiful part of the state and a beautiful area of our country. Of course, it would be home to a beautiful university!

4. My Bobcat friends. OU buddies are the best! They are HILLARIOUS (even when sober), smart, and compassionate. They're easy on the eyes, too. You do know Matt Lauer attended OU, right? Did you know he touched my arm once in The Crystal on Court Street near campus? It's true! Yeah, it was awesomeness.

3. That hard to describe Bobcat spirit. Basically, it's best illustrated by:

Watching the alumni band during their annual homecoming halftime show.
O...H...I...O. That cheer NEVER gets old.
Going to "after hour" parties when the bars close at 2 A.M. because there's still plenty of partying to do before dawn.
Ohio University's win against University of Michigan during their 2012 March Madness run.
Arriving as a homesick freshman and then hoping you can't finish in four years because 5th year seniors have even more fun!

2. Ohio University is home. Many of us arrive as 18 year olds from far off places. We are young, naive, and ready to ~~have fun~~ learn. We have so much fun learning, we never leave. We go from being Ohio University students to becoming townies. The Athens community is a great place to take root. Want to explore the Athens area more? Check this out: Athens, Ohio

1. And the number one reason Ohio University is the best? We aren't Ohio State University.
Not even close! Please don't confuse the two universities. That happens to be the number one way to honk off an Ohio University Bobcat.

Ohio University, you sure make 209 years old look good!

If only we could take OU uptown and buy him a pint (or two) at The Pub!
OU, Oh Yeah!

Darn 4th Grade Projects

2013-02-13T20:29:00.003-05:00

As best as I can tell, 4th grade should be renamed "The Year of the Projects."

If it's not a diorama then it is some other project involving recyclables, glue, and countless hours heckling your 9 year old to "get organized." I might as well be speaking Latin.

In our house, these school projects take on a life of there own. You may not think a 4th grade project would involves 20 feet of rope, metal clips, lag screws, wood screws, eyeholes, garden ties, plywood, plumbing pipe, and part of an old toilet paper holder, but then you clearly don't have the same vision as my ten year old.

This most recent 4th grade project was to create a simple machine.
The directions were clear. Create a simple machine (something with a lever, wheel and axle, pulley, inclined plane, wedge, or screw). Draw the project on paper with clear labels. The finished project must move a valentine card at least six inches. There must be something on the box that measures 12 inches long, 6 inches long, and 1 inch long.

After reading those instructions, something else became clear. I would be no use to to my son. I hate projects. I stopped comprehending the instructions after the word "simple."

My creative son quickly got to work drawing a rough draft of his idea. I saw the sketch. I thought it was ambitious and would require assistance from a civil engineer.

My hubby, who is not a civil engineer, loves starting projects. He's not as big a fan about finishing them. He just loves starting them. And he sure loved our son's idea! I mean really...what's not to love about an excuse to bring out all of your dusty power tools while making multiple trips to the hardware store? Can you ever have too many screws?

At one point, my son referred to my hubby as Clark Griswold. When I asked him why, he laughed saying, "Because Clark Griswold is always so optimistic, but it never works out for him."

After hearing this, my poor ~~Clark~~ hubby was hell-bent on getting an A on his son's 4th grade project. Despite its size, I believe my hubby and son nailed it. No pun intended!

I am going out on a limb here by saying a more humongous 4th grade project does not exist.

You have no idea how "happy" this makes me since my son wants to, of course, keep this project for the rest of his life. Finding a place to store this contraption may require building an addition onto our home. I voiced this concern to my hubby, but he was too busy playing with his son's contraption to hear what I was saying.

My fingers are crossed that the next 4th grade project (and I'm sure there will be another one!) will include instructions to keep it smaller than a breadbox. Please?

Illusions

2013-02-09T15:09:00.001-05:00

The other night I went to a ~~drag show~~ ~~Diva show~~ a show involving men impersonating famous female singers. This was a fun event to raise money for a good cause. It just goes to show what I will do ~~to get away from my kids on a Friday night~~ in the name of philanthropy.

I have noooo idea how to be politically correct about this experience. This should surprise no one since I am PC impaired. I can be PI (politically incorrect) without even trying so imagine the damage I will do with this topic.

This was my first ... um ... show of this nature.

The show raised all sorts of torrid questions while forcing me to realize a few painful truths.

Truth #1: The boobies of female impersonators are perkier and firmer than my own.
Question: How do I know the female impersonators' ta-tas are firmer?
Answer: I touched a pair, of course! I did mention this was all in the name of charity, right? That money I shoved down Annie Lennox's brassiere went to a good cause. Honest, mom!

Truth #2: I am nearly clueless when it comes to knowing anything about country singers.
Question: Who is Lorrie Morgan?
Answer: I have no idea! BUT her female impersonator is HOT!

Truth #3: My friends are awesome fun, but they know nothing about human anatomy.
Truth#4: Female impersonators have a mesmerizingly smooth panty line.
Question: Where do female impersonators hide their ding-a-lings?
Answer: I'm still trying to figure this out. My friends think perhaps some parts of the junk are shoved up a body cavity while I'm of the opinion duct tape is involved.

Truth #5: My husband thinks I have a perverse brain.
Question: What would your husband say if the first thing you asked him upon waking was, "If you had to hide your private parts, could you shove them up into your body somehow?" Seriously, I double-dog dare you to go ask your hubby this question.
Answer (after a very long pause with a completely perplexed expression): "I suppose you might be able to if you were really small."

It's an illusion to believe I have fully digested the experience of this fun-raiser.
What is not an illusion is my friends are awesome. They are beautiful, funny, smart women who can organize a great event, support a great cause, and encourage me to write a silly blog all about it!

10 Reasons Parenting Magazine Doesn't Ask for My Parenting Insights

2013-02-07T07:36:00.001-05:00

From my perspective, there are 10 reasons why I am not excelling at motherhood. I'm totally psyched about this because I really thought the list would be longer!

There are 10 completely different reasons why my kids may think I'm not excelling at this whole parenting gig. Let's not focus on those 10 items. After all, they are just ~~stupid~~ kids.

Try not to judge me too harshly, but here's why I'm no parenting expert:

10. I never believe my children are sick unless I see blood or vomit. I am outrageously unimpressed when a child sneezes in my vicinity and says her throat hurts. Yeah, right. Nice try! Off to school you go!

9. I think God made really smart people who then made really amazing vaccinations. If a doctor says my child needs three shots in his eyeball to keep swine-flu-bug-measle-mumps from infecting him, then I will help the smart doctor hold my son down to administer those shots. No, I don't have any questions. I never was good about questioning authority.

8. I hate play dates.

7. Hate does not begin to describe how I feel about sleepovers.

6. I have served my kiddos beige dinners. Those carb lovers love me for it, but I know a vegetable should make an appearance on their plate at dinner.

5. Of course, I eat some of their Halloween and Easter candy. That goes without saying, right? But I also hide really good chocolate in places where my ~~greedy~~ children won't think to look. For example, in one of the high cabinets behind mixing bowls. Then when they catch me eating it, I lie and tell them I have broccoli in my mouth.

4. I buy my daughter black snow boots, black gloves, black jackets, etc so I can make her younger brother wear her hand-me-downs. In fairness, I think that's rather kind of me. Much nicer than making him wear her old, pink, Disney princess boots.

3. I make fun of my own children behind their backs while talking with other moms. I have got to stop this, but honestly I think I'll wait until they grow up and stop acting ridiculous. They will stop acting ridiculous someday right?

2. I don't know the answers to their 72 million daily questions. After getting tired of saying "I don't know" 72 million times each day, I just started making ~~shit~~ stuff up. The sky is blue because God made it that way, shooting stars are magic, and people never have sex unless they want to make a baby.

1. I love them so much I sometimes don't have adequate words for it, and I worry I don't say it enough. I'm often too busy asking them to pick up dirty socks, clean rooms, eat vegetables, do homework, be respectful, wash hair, and be quiet.

If nothing else, take a moment and hug your children tightly. Tell them you love them...even if that is an understatement.

Super Bowl 2013 Recap

2013-02-04T13:10:00.003-05:00

Did you see this year's Super Bowl?

And what I really mean is did you see the commercials?

And what I really mean, ladies, is did you see the Calvin Klein underwear commercial?

Hello, Calvin Klein!

Talk about good advertising. I immediately had the urge to run out and buy my hubby Calvin Klein undies. I'm hoping they come with the same amazing abdominal muscles as in that commercial. Otherwise it's kind of like false advertising.

I'm being totally sexist, right?

Imagine if my hubby admitted his hope that my boobies would stand at attention and my thighs would firm up upon putting on Victoria Secret apparel. Yes, I would dig a shallow grave in my backyard and put his Calvin Klein wearing ass in it.

No, there are no undies on the planet that suddenly create perky boobies and firm thighs. Oh, how I wish!

Clearly, the Calvin Klein commercial was the crown jewel of the Super Bowl commercials, although Taco Bell's seniors rocked it as did Budweiser's Clydesdale. Of course, Ram Truck's "So God made a Farmer" commercial is also a winner.

Now about that Go Daddy commercial...
My hubby tells me it took 40 plus takes to get the kiss just right. That poor, round, bespectacled child needed to kiss that skanky, blond model multiple times before getting the kiss "just right." That's a strong work ethic! I'm amazed by his ability to persevere.

The commercial was upsetting to me because it was one of the more slurpy-like kisses I've heard in some time. It's hard to eat wings while listening to two people slurpy kiss.
I nearly lost my appetite. Nearly, but not quite. I still managed to suck down wings, beer, pizza, and chips.

Needless to say, I could really use some magical undies right about now!

Watch the "So God made a Farmer" video, share it with others, and the Ram brand makes a donation. Help them raise $1 million to support FFA and assist in local hunger and educational programs. Click here or go to http://www.ramtrucks.com/en/keepplowing/ for more information.

February

2013-02-01T07:11:00.000-05:00

It's February and we all know what that means.

Only five more months until the heir to England's throne is born!
Sound the alarms, organize a parade, mark your calendar...England is getting a new baby!

Not to be outdone, of course, the Kardashian's are also planning to produce a summer baby.

February is the month when we hate those lucky people who get to escape to the Caribbean, while secretly plotting ways we could visit a warm place. Maybe if I sell all of the "treasures" in my basement on eBay I'll be able to save enough money to buy a poster of the beach. That wouldn't help my mood in the slightest, but I've got so much junk in my basement. So. Much. Junk. I guess the warmest place I'll see this February is the inside of my oven. That thing hasn't been cleaned since 2011.

Now is a good time to officially ditch those New Year's resolutions, if you even made it this long. It's hard to hold fast to resolutions while simultaneously buying Girl Scout cookies in bulk. Loose weight, exercise...wait! Is that a thin mint order form...?

February is also as good a month as any to take down those outside Christmas lights. (I REALLY hope my hubby is reading this.). No one is seriously going to believe those white icicle lights are actually Valentine's day lights, right?

Speaking of which, Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Chocolate? Wine? Chocolate wine? I'll take one of each, thank you.

Thanks to global warming it's likely balmy in parts of the country where it is normally cold, and it's likely frigid in places that are normally hot ~~as hell~~.

If the groundhog sees his shadow this month, I'm moving to the Caribbean. Or at least switching to a really cool Caribbean screen saver at work.

February is the only month that can make 28 days feel like all eternity.

Spring, I cannot wait to see you!