Friday, October 12, 2012

Non-Stop Talk

Hubby and LM are the stars of this post. Between the two of them, there is never a dull moment around here, whether it's 12:00 in the afternoon or 12:00 at night.

1. Hubby: (asleep??) "Son."
Me: (looking intently at hubby, trying to discern his level of consciousness. He cracks an eye open).
Hubby: (asleep??) "I'm not sleep-talking, I'm just saying 'son'."
(Hmmmmmm. Either he was sleep-talking, or hubby is super weird. Either answer is likely.)

2. Hubby: (asleep-- for sure) "Let me be clear. You're knocking over sheets. You're crumpling them, kicking them off, getting them dirty. I think I'm going to get angry."

3. LM: (smelling a whiff of something foul) "Whoever dealt it...eats it."
(Whoa-- that's harsh.)

4. Hubby: (asleep) "It might have been 93, I can't remember.... It was good, though!" (Proceeds to laugh hysterically.)

5. LM: (after repeatedly being shot down when asking for items at the store) "Can you please just buy something so that I'll say, 'you're awesome, Mom'?"
(Um. No.)

6. LM: "Mom, I want a Monster energy drink for my next meet-- can you dig it?"
Me: "Ummmm...yeah, I can dig it."
(Groovy, man!)

7. LM: (whole-heartedly singing his version of a popular Neon Trees song) "Whoa-oh, I want some more! Whoa-oh, what are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? Take the body off me!"

8. Hubby: (asleep) "Soft boy!"

9. LM: "The counselor asked me if I was having any problems, so I told her I live in an old house, we're a very poor family, and that it's all (blank's) fault we're in this situation!"
(Aye, aye, aye, bud.... The school counselor meant any problems at school!)

10. Hubby: (asleep-- giggling) "Ohhhhh! It's a problem when you're laughing and trying to chew gum-- you'll suck it right down your windpipe!"

11. Hubby: (asleep-- very sarcastically) "Gee, can you think of a fine game to play where nobody has to leave right now? Oh good! October-- let's start there!"

Yep. Never a dull moment.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Next Time; Disco Ball!

If our neighbors are inclined toward voyeurism, they'd have been treated to quite the show tonight.

LM found me earlier this evening and asked if I might like to have a dance party with him in the basement. Um, did somebody just say "dance"? I'm so there.

He disappeared into the bathroom for a while, and came out with spiked hair so intensely gelled, I could pop a balloon on it. Perfection!

We traipsed down the stairs and I turned on the radio full blast. Truly, the next half hour that ensued will go down as one of the all-time best dance parties I've ever attended. Someday when this kid starts dating, he's going to make for a really good time. No girl is going to feel self-conscious about her dance floor prowess when beside the most uncoordinated, non-judgmental and uninhibited fellow alive. Does LM let a complete and utter lack of rhythm slow him down-- even for a second? Not on your life. And so, heck, I didn't either. No move was off-limits, no misstep acknowledged, no failed attempt laughed at. Full-throttle; no-holds-barred. (Well, except when he stopped for a potato chip break every now and then.)

Talk about fun.

And when he invited me to play a game of dance ping-pong I knew I was about to try something crazy. And, turns out, I'm still pretty awesome at table tennis even while oppa'ing gangnam style.

But it wasn't until LM began handing me money on the dance floor that I realized just how unique this experience was. 'Cause, um, that's never happened to me before. (At least he didn't try to tuck it into my waistband.) Of course, I returned the $1.25 I earned while dancing to "Price Tag"-- 'cause we all know it's not about the money, money, money.

Oh man, I can't wait until LM asks me to dance again. And if you're willing to leave your ego at the door, you are welcome to join us any time.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Death By Fire Escape

LM's been a touch obsessed with devising a fire escape plan at our house. Normally I would be thrilled at his initiative, but after hearing his ideas...I'm hoping that we don't experience arson in the near future. I'm pretty sure LM wouldn't die in a house fire-- he'd die trying to escape it.

Here are a few of his ideas:
  •  “Dad can get some boards and we’ll nail the boards right by my screen outside my window. Then I can kick in my screen and step on the boards."
  •  "If that doesn’t work, I’ll run out onto the deck and jump at the last second."
  •  "Then I’ll meet at our meeting spot and we can climb the fence into our neighbor’s yard.”
Yikes. Apparently we've advanced way beyond "Stop, Drop and Roll."

1. LM: (after hubby pinched his booty) "Dad, don't touch my butt-- you don't know where it's been."
(On the contrary-- we know exactly where it's been. It's irresistible regardless.)

2. LM: "Mom, if we don't have money to pay for food, we're going to have to become couponers."
Me: "Nooooooooooo!"
LM: "Well, would you rather starve, or coupon?"
(I actually need to think about that one.)

3. LM: "Get outta my way, bloody dog! ...Mom, is bloody a cuss word?"
Me: "Well, it sort of is-- if you're British."
LM: "Phew! I'm not British."
(Ah, by all means, then, use it with impunity!)

4. LM: "Mom, I'm going to keep my room isolated while I'm gone, which is to say, I'm going to keep it cold."
Me: (???)
(Ohhhh! I get it! ICE-olated.)

5. LM: (watching a bunch of kids dance to French music) "Ugh. I could easily paralyze one of those French mon amis."
(So, I take it he's not impressed....)

6. Me: (watching a little boy sing on TV) "Do you like him, LM?"
LM: "Well...does he have Asperger's?"
Me: "No...I don't think so."
LM: "Oh. He's just okay."
(Ah-ha, I see the measure by which you judge-- and I think I like it!)

7. LM: "Mom, Ruby hit me! I was only mocking her, and Jesus says not to fight back!"
(Uhhhh. I think we're forgetting a few other things Jesus may have said as well.)

And now for a few sleep-talking quotes from hubby:

8. Hubby: (asleep) "Ummm...yeah. Rinse it clean in the bathtub. The buckets too. Mmmmmm-hmmmmmm."
(This is just a snippet from a lengthy monologue he was engaged in-- I couldn't get it all written down in time.)

9. Hubby: (asleep) "Yeah, I have to know how they're doing-- 'cause that's a lot of air, baby!"

10. Hubby: (asleep) "You are so young and young and beautiful."
(All I know is he'd better been dreaming about me!)

That's all I got for now!

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Mini Date

Cute little fella, isn't he? My taste usually lies with tall, dark and handsome sorts-- but this short, blonde and adorable kid is exactly my type. He and I ventured out on a date today.

Mister turns 4 this week, and I felt the occasion warranted a special outing. So I called his mom and set up arrangements for the afternoon. I even wore a dress. A dress! After all, a dress is appropriate for the first date with a good-looking guy. (Go ahead and stick with sweats if you'd prefer not to see the gentleman again-- or if your first date is to the gym....)

I picked Mister up and my sister met me at the door.

"Did you get all dressed up just for Mister?" She asked.


"Mister-- what do you say?"

"Thank you."

Uh, you're welcome? In Mister's defense, the question "what do you say?" is almost always a mom's prompt for gratitude. But my sister nudged him, suggesting a different response instead.

"Oh! You look beautiful!"

After putting his carseat in my car (I've never dated a guy who had to sit in a harness in the backseat) and reminding her little man to act like a gentleman, my sister bade us farewell.

Our conversation was...interesting.

"Do you like having your sister gone at school all day, or do you miss her?"

"I like having her gone."

"You know what? When I was little I liked it when your mom went to school and I got to stay home, too."

"I remember that! Even though I wasn't born, I remember."


"Hey Lindsay, why are you always impressed?"


"Yeah. You're always impressed."

This question threw me for a loop. I think I'm going to ask an adult why they're always impressed so I can find out how to answer that one.

Hey Susie, why are you always impressed? I'd really like to know.

We arrived at Starbucks and I informed my date he could order anything he wanted.

"Do they have pink milk?"


"I want pink milk and a pink cake pop."

So that's what he got. (Well, actually, he got 2 pink cake pops-- it's my job as auntie to make sure he gets more than he bargained for.)

Instead of sitting down and chatting, like my usual dating M.O., Mister bounced here and there, finally finding entertainment in shaking the umbrella pole outside.

"Uh, Mister-- you probably shouldn't do that. It might upset the workers here."

"Will they punish us?"

"They might."

"What will they do?" His eyes widen, envisioning heinous torture, no doubt.

"They might make us leave."

"They might make a sleeve?"

I could see him trying to process this unusual form of discipline. I tried to imagine it too. Starbucks employees, feverishly sewing a sleeve to present to us in disapproval of Mister's behavior. Indignantly tossing it in our direction upon its completion. Maybe a short sleeve indicates less anger, and a long sleeve implies you'd better not show your face at this particular Starbucks again. And a whole shirt? You're probably headed for jail. I didn't correct the misunderstanding.

After Starbucks we went to the park, and when he tired of playing alone (Auntie's dress was a bit short for running and jumping) we went to McDonald's for french fries and more play. There he unceremoniously dropped me for two cute little numbers closer to his age. Although, he did take a few breaks to come profess his love to me. Player.

"I love you so much, Auntie!"

"I love you too, Mister!"

"I love you more."

"Not possible-- I love you more."

Then he'd scamper away again. Off with Sophie and Eva-- the tiny date stealers.

At the end of our outing he thanked me. "Can we go again tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't, Mister."

"The next day?"

"Tell you what, we'll go out again really soon. Okay?"


I wonder when it will stop being cool to date his aunt.... I think I have a few more years to enjoy. And after that, I'm not averse kidnapping.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Hab SoSlI Quch!

I'm a little early for Halloween, but I have the perfect opportunity to dress as a Klingon at the moment (although my forehead ridge is a bit off-center).

I ran into a tether ball pole today. Really. Hard.

There I was, enthusiastically waving good-bye to my son as he traipsed into school. Couldn't take my eyes off him in fact-- which explains why I didn't notice the tall metal beam blocking my path.


It took me a second to even realize what I'd done. My bell got rung good. It wasn't until an excited mother came barreling toward me yelling, "Oh my gosh-- are you okay?" that realization dawned.

Quiet, lady! Sheesh, do you want the whole school to know?

"You hit that hard! Those poles don't normally even move, but you made that thing shake!"

I clung to the pole like a drowning girl to a life preserver-- it was the only thing between me and the concrete. But I felt like I needed to convince this gal I was okay (after all, the sooner she left me alone, the less likely others would come flocking to my aid as well). So I let go of the pole and waved my hands around in an attempt to look nonchalant. Epic fail.

"Oh yeah, I got this. I'm good."

But I wasn't good. I believe the term "punch-drunk" would have been an apt way to describe my state. I'm surprised I didn't hug her and profess my undying love.

"Are you gonna faint? 'Cause I'd feel awful if you fainted."

Faint? What a wonderful idea! Why didn't I think of that? Dang, is it too late to try?

I assured her yet again that never in my life had I been better. Why-- cracking my head on metal beams was akin to drinking a stiff espresso! What a way to wake up-- good morning, world!

I toddled home, eyes and nose running, head spinning, embarrassed like heck. I'm sure Miss Good Samaritan watched my progress with a craned neck. I did my best to walk straight.

And what do I have to show for this adventure? A small ridge running down the right side of my forehead, and a cut lip. So I think I may don whatever black patent leather I own and growl at hubby tonight-- because I may never have this natural Klingon look again. (Although I'm sure the Klingons would unceremoniously do away with anyone stupid enough to accidentally brain themselves.)

Ugh. My head hurts.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Er...Yeah, What He Said!

One last weekend before school starts. I'm pretty sure this was the shortest summer on record.

Anyway, I have nine new quotes today. And if you like hubby's sleep-talking bits, then you're in for a real treat-- he's been chatting up a storm.

1. LM: (praying) "And God, please give my dad a job-- because you haven't been treating us very kindly lately."
(I've typed and erased a half dozen parenthetical thoughts here, but I decided this quote just speaks for itself.)

2. LM: (talking about what he'd do if a deer chased him) "I'd stay and fight back! Or maybe just run like a coward...."
(Well, which is it? Those two options are pretty diametrically opposed.)

3. Ruby: "At camp they had Lake Night every night where they'd do funny stuff. And they showed a video called 'Camp Tits'...."
(Say whaaaaaaaaaa?!)
Ruby: (mortified) "Wait a second...I meant 'Camp TIPS'!"
(Good, because for a second there I thought I may have sent her to the wrong camp.)

4. Me: (aghast) "LM, are you using a sharp nail to dig out toe jam?"
LM: (sensing my disapproval) "Mom, I'm not two. I can handle it."
(Okay, Mr. Mature.)

5. Hubby: (asleep) "Sheesh! Just slam yourself down a little harder there, hmmmmmmmmmm?"

6. Hubby: (asleep) "Lindsay, you need to explain that. You said that out loud like a champion. What?"

7. Hubby: (asleep-- putting his hand on my hip) "Ahhhh! It's a rocky spot right here!"
(At least he said "rocky" and not "fluffy".)

8. Hubby: (asleep) "The cops wanna find out what happened first. Then they'll probably write a least."

9. Hubby: (asleep) "Gross...negative."

I so wish I knew what he was dreaming about sometimes....

Monday, August 20, 2012

I'm Serious...No, Really!

I thought perhaps I'd try to write something serious for a change. You know, to show another deeper side of me. 'Cause I sure as heck wouldn't want anyone to think I'm a one-trick-pony, or that I don't have the needed maturity to tackle challenging subject matter.

So I'll just share what's been on my mind lately. I'm gonna freestyle a bit here, so bear with me as my profound thoughts flow freely from brain to screen.

Shame. Shame and prejudice. The shame that accompanies prejudice. Ugly, shameful prejudicity...prejudiceness...prejudicism...oh, whatever.

I feel I can speak out on this topic because I have a wart on my elbow. Now hear me out; this is a really ugly wart. (I would post a picture, but when I googled "warts"...{shudder}. Free advice: do not google warts.) Anyway, I've had it for at least 5 years now. My doctor says the wart will go away on its own, and if growing exponentially larger is part of this "going away" process, then she is absolutely right.

I've tried numerous remedies. Kombucha, garlic, tea tree oil, prescription wart remover, OTC wart remover, nitrogen, canola oil, and now, duct tape. This thing is stubborn like nobody's business!

You're asking what any of this has to do with shame and prejudice. I'm not exactly sure.... Hey, I said this was going to be free-style!

Okay, okay, I'll tie this all together. Just give me a sec.... Ah-ha! I feel shamed by the prejudice I experience from this wart. You should see how kids stare at it! I mean, it's sooooo shameful.

Ach. Never mind. I can't do it....

Tuesday, August 14, 2012


Holy cow it's been a busy week. But that's neither here nor there....

LM went back-to-school shopping with hubby's mom tonight. And I'm almost 100% sure I will regret allowing him to keep some of his selections, including this one:

Yes, that is a jacket. A ninja jacket. The hood zips all the way down his face to give that charming criminal look. But how do I say no to this face?

I can't.

Anyway, I have some quotes today:

1. Bopper: (on the phone with me) "Auntie, I lost two teeth!"
Me: "I know!"
Bopper: "I'm just soooo cute!"
(Two teeth gone; self-esteem still very present.)

2. LM: "...and then one dinosaur took the guy's legs in his mouth, and the other dinosaur took the other end of him and ripped him in two...."
Me: (interrupting) "Yikes!"
LM: "Actually, it was pretty godly to share their human."
(Yep, no doubt about it, those dinosaurs must have been Christians! Wait....)

3. Mister: "Ruby, you know, I'm just like God."
Ruby: "Why, Mister?"
Mister: "Because I eat bread."
(Well, if that's all there is to it, I have arrived!)

4. LM: "Dad can't even make the velociraptor sound-- like in Jurassic Park. But if we got a resonating chamber for him, he'd love it!"
( has those, right?)

5. Me: (to Bopper) "Carson sure likes you!" (Carson is our ancient Boxer.)
Bopper: "Yeah, I give her good rubbers."
(Yikes...can we please just call it petting instead?)

6. Me: "Will you grab me that book, Monkey Butt?"
LM: (trying to clarify this odd new term) "Are you calling me the monkey and Carson the butt?"
Me: "No. But Carson does smell like a butt...and you smell like a monkey."
LM: "But Mom, monkeys smell like butts, too."
Me: "Oh, I guess you might be right. Sorry about that, Monkey Butt."
LM: "Mooooooooommmm!"
(It must be hard having a mom who is barely more mature than you are....)

7. LM: (after I'd been reading to him for an hour) "Keep reading!"
Me: "I can't anymore, bud. My voice is tired."
LM: "Mom, I don't think in studies they've ever found that voices can be tired."
(His Aspie literalness...gets me every time.)

8. Me: 'LM, please go wash your hands before dinner."
LM: (hucks a loogie into his hands and rubs 'em together).
Me: "Uh, no, go wash them for real."
(I have no words....)

9. Hubby: (asleep) "Hands-offy! Too many times people reach for that stinkin' math! I said hands-OFF! That'll teach 'em."

10. LM: "Dad, I don't like it when you do all that explaining stuff. It annoys me."
(By "explaining" he of course meant "lecturing". And kids all around the world cheered.)

Well, that's it for today, folks!

Friday, August 3, 2012

Honest And Open

I have 10 random confessions I need to get off my chest. You know, in case these dirty little secrets of mine change whether or not we can still be friends. In the interest of full-disclosure, I feel you should have all the facts about me:

1. Bacon. I believe I find it repulsive. In fact, just thinking about it right now makes me wanna yak a little in my mouth.

2. I like naughty children. Not too naughty, mind you. Just naughty enough to make me giggle.

3. I routinely stare at people, and then pretend I was just gazing off into space if they catch me. I specifically like to look at hair, shoes and butts. Diagnose that.

4. Coffee tastes like burnt water. I judge the palate of coffee-drinkers and find it wanting. C'mon, don't deny it-- you had to learn how to like that stuff.

5. While it's probably more accurate to say I'm neurotic, obsessive, and borderline reclusive, I prefer to say I have an "artistic temperament". Join me in that little fantasy, will you?

6. I can't stand it when my hands are sticky. If my hands are sticky and we're having a conversation, I'm not listening to a word you're saying. There is only one thing running through my mind, "Let me gooooooo! I need to get to a sink STAT!"

7. I find poop, fart, burp, and other junior-high humor hilarious. If you don't, I will probably offend you at some point.

8. I think it's hilarious when people fall. Realizing this is not socially acceptable, I've trained myself to laugh in my head instead. It's genetic.

9. I am one half granola/green/hippy, and one half...whatever the opposite of that is. I am not disturbed by the hypocrisy in this.

10. I still run up the basement stairs so the monsters can't catch me.

Soooooo, do you still like me?

Tuesday, July 31, 2012


I've managed to gather lots of quotes recently-- and they come from a variety of sources! From nieces and nephews, to sisters and first-cousins-once-removed. And, of course, LM.

1. Mister: (singing to himself) "I'm a bottomy, I'm a bottomy-- I'll toot your face off!"
(I suppose if there ever were such a thing as a bottomy, that's exactly what it would do.)

2. Carmenita: (excitedly eyeing a jar of peaches) "I want peaches!"
Me: (getting ready to dole them out) "Okay-- how much do you want?"
Carmenita: "I want toooooo much!"
(Now that's my kind of girl!)

3. LM: (avoiding my motherly advances) "You can't smooch me until you give me something proper to eat."
(Okay then, would a knuckle sandwich constitute as "proper"?)

4. LM: (approaching a gentleman with his canine) "Can I pet your dog? Hey, kind sir, can I pet your dog?"
(Kind sir.... Works every time.)

5. Hubby: (sleeping-- groaning as he spoke) "Champs-Elysees...Champs-Elysees...."
(If he's speaking French in his sleep, all I gotta say is he better be dreaming about me.)

6. LM: (after hubby had collected and deposited a number of LM's belongings into his tidy room) "Stop putting stuff in my room! I'm tired of having that, that, this, this all over the place-- it's like I'm a hoarder!"

7. T: (said loudly to her husband in public) "Stop dinkering with your dinker!"
(If only people knew she'd been talking about his phone....)

8. Bopper: (upon seeing hubby) "Well, hey there Branting!"
(I waited for her to give him a smack on the rump to complete the male athlete greeting, but she missed that part.)

9. Me: (observing LM and Mister working hard outside) "Good job, boys! You're doing awesome work!"
Mister: "Thanks! You're pretty!"
(I think he felt he needed to answer my compliment with one of his own. Hey, I'll take whatever I can get.)

10. Me: (hearing telling "number two" noises come from the bathroom) "What's going on in there?"
LM: "Something awesome."
(Doesn't smell awesome....)

11. LM: "We only have one rated-R movie, which I'm disgusted about!"
(I'm confused. He's disgusted that we have it, or that we have only one?)

12. LM: (looking for a small Lego piece) "It's like trying to find hay in a needle-stack!"
(Sounds painful. And not that difficult, actually.)

13. Me: (lying next to LM in bed, reading to him) "Hey bud, can you scoot over? You're crushing my shoulder."
LM: (after I'd adjusted to a comfortable position...for me) "Ugh! Now I'm in the same state you were in!"
(A terrible state, that.)

Last, but not least, a little gem I ripped from my cousin's Facebook page. It makes me laugh every time. With her permission:

"As my family and I were sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast this morning, the little one was being delightfully naughty. She continued to dip her fingers in her bowl of maple syrup after I had told her to stop. I looked at her and with a half smile told her that I had brought her into this world and I could taker her out if it. She smiled and said that she would then get to go to God. To which her daddy replied, "But you know what happens to naughty children when they go to Heaven, don't you? You grow a third arm on your back that spanks you over and over for all of eternity." The whole family erupted in hysterical laughter. Thanks, Babe. We'll go ahead and file this day in the "Awesome Parenting" category :-)"

Friday, July 27, 2012

Puss In Loo

She instills fear into the very core of my being. She is Kezzy, my aunt's kitty-cat.

Kezzy likes to hide in wait until I enter the bathroom, at which point she races through the door ahead of me and takes up her post in front of the toilet. The first time she did this I just shoved her aside so I could get down to business. (Fail.) The second time she pulled this trick I'd learned what it means to have kitty-kitty in the bathroom with me, and I reconsidered just how badly I needed to go. Perhaps digging a trough outside and squatting would be in my best interest instead.

See, Kezzy likes to torment you while you're on the pot. Oh, it starts out nice enough. She rubs up against your legs and purrs. You think she's trying to befriend you, albeit in an unconventional way. But this is simply to give you a false sense of security so that you'll loosen up and let your drawers drop a little lower to the floor, thus giving her more fleshy surface area to attack.

She thinks it's quite funny to try and hop up in your lap, and when that fails ('cause there's no freakin' way I'm letting a cat sit in my lap while I'm using the facilities) she likes to use your bare legs as a scratching post. Yeah, I know she's just "playing", but it feels a little less like fun, and more like sadism to me. I mean, how brilliant is this cat? She catches you partially clothed with no way to escape! My only hope is to pee as fast as humanly possible, and to not make any frantic motions with the toilet paper, thus inciting kitty's pounce instinct.

Then, like a psycho lover, she'll nuzzle her head against you like nothing ever happened. But at this point you're toast, because she is about to bite...your...hand.

Love bites. Or should I say, "love bites."

My favorite time was when I thought I'd made it into the bathroom alone, only to discover after I'd shut and locked the door that Kezzy was already in the bathroom. Waiting. Seriously, I might have nightmares.

She may look like this:

But this is what's in her heart:

For now, my strategy is to avoid drinking liquids at any cost. But eventually I'll be forced to cross my legs tight and dance. So at that point I'm just praying that Kezzy will already be deep in sleep somewhere so that I can pee in peace. Maybe, like, at 2:00am that can happen.

One can only hope....

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Dumb Bumpkin

My feet hurt.

Yesterday we had an adventure in the Big City. Traffic. Masses of humanity. Exorbitant parking fees. Shopping. Fashion. And there's no better way to feel like a country bumpkin than to tool around a major metropolis.

So, in an effort to feel less like a country bumpkin, and more like a city-dweller, I chose to tool around in a pair of my younger (more fashionable) sister's three-inch heels. At least, it felt like they were three inches. They might have been two and a half....I wouldn't know, because I never wear heels. (That should have been my first red flag.)

"They're comfortable!" She assured me, smiling as she handed them over.

Mmmm-hmmm. Looking back on her comment, I'm sure what she meant is that they are more comfortable than these:   
But only slightly. (Or maybe she just hadn't anticipated that I would choose to wear them for miles.)

Here is where my pride took over. You see, my head told me, "Wear a pair of comfy walking shoes ya big dork!" But my heart said, "Everyone, and I mean every single person, will laugh you right off the sidewalk if you wear comfy walking shoes. Even the transients will laugh!"

My mother and aunt advised against my decision, but I assured them that I could endure the pain for the sake of fashion. So I did.

And by the end of the night, my feet felt like this:  

But, hey, at least I didn't look like a tourist! Until I realized...this is Seattle. Not New York. Not Hollywood. Not Paris. Not Rio. And almost everyone was in comfy walking shoes.


It's okay, though, nothing a little rest, ice and elevation won't cure. But the thick-headedness? There is no cure for that.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

No, That's Not An Easy Button

That angry red spot in the middle of my face? Yeah, that's a humongous high school throw-back zit. And, yes, it hurts. Hurts like a mother.

So go ahead and stare next time you see me; you have my permission. 'Cause there's no point in trying to avert your gaze. The monster practically begs you to admire its awesomeness. (And has an amazing resistance to concealer might I add.)

Stupid dummie-head juvenile hormones...I'm supposed to be a grown-up now....

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Have A Nice Stay!

I think if we had a motto for this week it would be, "Um...that wasn't in the plan." At least...not in my plan.

But apparently my plans are boring and predictable, as they do not include flooding the laundry/bathroom floor with backed-up sewer water. And while I can agree that the aforementioned situation is infinitely more interesting than the plans I had previously arranged (which involved sipping cool drinks on the deck while chatting with my beloved cousin), I cannot say it was better.

However, the good news is, the plumbing has been cleaned out and our guests will not have to take a shower while standing in a lake of poop water after all. (We do try to treat guests better than that. Unless we hate our guests, of course. And then not only must they stand in the poop water, they must brush their teeth with it as well. But I digress....)

All in all, our guests have been marvelously resilient to all the "non-plans" that have been happening during their visit. Now if we can only convince them to come again sometime.... Maybe we can arrange for someone to get electrocuted by a faulty outlet or something. You know, just to keep it interesting.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Man Up!

Hubby went backpacking and decided to appoint LM as "man of the house" while he's gone.

Nice one, hubs. He might as well have said, "Hey LM, here's a free pass to do whatever you want for the next three days! Have at it, bud!" Hmmm, maybe next time I leave I'll appoint Ruby as "princess". Should give him about the same effect.

But the upside is that LM is taking his role very seriously. When we returned home late this evening, he even insisted on checking the house for burglars before letting me inside.

"Hey, is anyone in here?" he called out through the barely cracked-open door. When no heinous criminal answered, he figured we were safe to enter. Phew!

Anyway...haven't done quotes in a while, and surprisingly, I only have a few to share:

1. LM: (to his sister's friend) "Beware of my sister, she tends to have a lot of problems."
(Needless to say, he didn't earn any points with his sister on that one.)

2. Hubby: (stepping on the dog's bed) "Gross! There's something wet there." (He bravely bends down to take a whiff.)
Me: "Is it pee? Puke? Drool?"
LM: "Maybe it's time we get her some diapers."
Me: "Bud, at the point we need to get this dog diapers, it'll be time to take her down to the vet for a permanent nap."
Hubby, Ruby, LM: (in chorus) "Nooooooooooooo!"
(Seriously? I can't be the only one who sees the logic in this.)

3. Hubby: (asleep) "Cascading Ken. Dude, I would totally pick him-- he's the perfect match! And Alfonso...that guy rocks! Or is it Alonso? Alfonso or Alonso? Alfonso, that's it."
(Cascading Ken? Was he dreaming about Malibu Barbie's boyfriend or something?)

4. MIL: (referring to a person whose intellect does not impress her) "Yeah, she's not the sharpest cook in the drawer."
(Ummm...never mind.)

5. LM: (fed-up with his misbehaving little cousin) "Somebody needs to overthrow that brat!"
(No worries, son, his parents have already staged a coup.)

6. LM: (speaking to his great grandma) "Gigi, have you ever been hit where it hurts?" (Points to his crotch and nods knowingly) "I have."

7. Mister: (after his sister hit him for being a pest) "Mom, Bopper hit me!"
Bopper: "That's not hitting, that's sign language for 'Mister, knock it off!'"
(I'd like her to teach me her version of sign language sometime-- sounds useful!)

That's all I got for now. Until next time....

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Duct Tape Cures All

Drive the truck to the Oregon coast-- it seemed like a benign enough idea. Ten hours in a small cab with hubby, two antsy kids and an ancient dog whose breath smells like rotten fish. Luggage packed in the truck bed in Rubbermaid bins, alongside an organ and bumper pool table-- to be dropped off in Beaverton with relatives on the way. Um, why did we think this was a good idea? Why?

We were on the road not fifteen minutes before the hubster had to pull over and adjust the tarp we'd haphazardly thrown over the whole lot. Then another ten minutes before he decided to just give up and pull the worthless tarp off altogether. Unfortunately, upon removing the tarp, lids began to fly off the Rubbermaid bins as we drove. Stop truck. Retrieve lids from highway. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

But it wasn't until one of the sleeping bags flew onto the highway that hubby really lost it. Oh wait, I think I have a picture of that. Yes, here it is:

The kids would be happy to tell you what he said, I'm sure. :)

"We're not moving until we can duct tape these lids on!" Hubby announced on the shoulder of I-90, tossing the errant sleeping bag back into a bin.

"Do we have any duct tape?" I asked.

"No. We have to buy it."

I looked around me. Nothing but barren fields. "Sooooo...are you going to conjure a store out of thin air?"

I'd stumped him. So, we decided to put the tarp back on until we once again entered civilization, since duct tape does not exist in the wild.

By the time the store was reached our tarp was in shreds, and so was hubby's sanity. But a quick stop into the hardware department for duct tape reinstated order, and we were able to continue on our merry way. Duct tape even ensured our dog's rancid mouth stayed shut, and the kids' arms and legs kept to themselves the entire way! And when they complained, a little duct tape over their mouths restored peace and quiet. Lovely!

Actually, after the purchase of duct tape, the trip went wonderfully smooth. Hey, I guess taking the truck wasn't such a bad idea after all!

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Boys Will Be Boys

LM just returned from camp a few days ago, only to start another day camp immediately after. This means he's had a lot of exposure to non-family members as of late. And I kid you not, I've had at least three people come up to me in the last 24-hours with some sort of variation of this statement: "Guess what I heard your son say!"

I always look forward to hearing these little tidbits. I'm rarely embarrassed by them anymore. But today.... Well, LM got me to blush a bit.

Our children's pastor at church happened to be LM's cabin leader last week, and when he saw me today he pulled me aside for a chat. I could tell he had an LM story.

"So, we were all hanging out in the cabin talking and joking, and suddenly LM announced to the group, 'Hey, we should stop talking about inappropriate things-- like boobs!' Only thing was, we hadn't been talking about boobs, but the boys' ears sure perked up at the new subject!"

LM was standing next to me during this recitation. And this is where it got...awkward.

"Yeah, I told them we shouldn't talk about these!" He then proceeded to point one finger of each hand at both of my ta-tas. But he wasn't finished. (Because there are even more parts on a lady you shouldn't talk about, of course.) A hand then snaked down, pointing just inches away from my crotch.

"Or this!" LM exclaimed.

Even fully dressed, I felt the need to use one arm to cover my chest and the other to hide my nether regions. I mean, where was this poor man supposed to look during this whole exchange? A person's eye is compelled to follow a pointing finger. But this gentleman was giggling so hard (doubled-over), that it saved us both from having to figure out the eye-to-finger logistics of the situation.

"Okaaaaaaaay!" I said quickly, shoving LM's fingers away from my bod squad. "That certainly is inappropriate buddy-- I'm sure glad you didn't speak with the boys about that stuff!"

Aye, aye, aye....

Monday, June 25, 2012


As you can see, I'm in the middle of revamping my blog. I'll keep you posted if I end up scrapping this one and starting fresh, or if the remodel is enough to suit my needs. Stay tuned! (And do tell me what you think, won't you?)

Tuesday, June 19, 2012


Love letters. When I was 18, 19, 20...apparently I wrote lots of 'em to hubby. I have no recollection of doing this, but I did. And I have proof-- I just found it the other day in a previously unexplored corner of the house. (A whole stack of proof, in fact.)

That's one of the advantages to living in your husband's former home; finding little pieces of history you didn't even know existed.

You know what another advantage is? Finding all the love letters the others wrote too. And oh, I found some juicy ones! In fact, I discovered many that made me wonder why on earth his mother chose to save them. (I mean, didn't they make her blush tomato red?) All in all, they made for a very interesting afternoon of reading.

But every now and then I couldn't hold it in....

"Hubby! What did Bambi mean when she said---?"

"Hubby! Why did Trixie tell you that---?"

"Hubby! I cannot believe you did/said/thought---!"

"Hubby! Did Candy really---?"

"So, Cherry was pretty hot then, eh?"

Pretty soon hubby came traipsing into the room, curiosity getting the better of him, only to find me surrounded by a pile of letters. Letters written on napkins, letters written on Hallmark cards, letters on paper towels, on notebook paper, letters with pictures, letters containing confetti, lipstick kisses, the remnants of old fragrance.... Letters proclaiming undying devotion, heartsickness over break-ups, letters pieced together from magazine clippings, memories of good times together (sometimes too "good", in all honesty).

"Where did you get those?" he asked, looking a bit sick.

"Your mom saved them. Did she read this one-- hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?" I proffered one of the more interesting notes. He sputtered.

"Ugh! Throw them away!"

"Are you sure? They're your history!"

"They're evil."

"They're a lot like the ones I wrote," I said flatly.

"That's different...."

(You got that right, buster.) But, reluctantly, I did as he asked and threw them away. Sigh.

And the ones I wrote? Well, I kept those, as ridiculous as they were. (Who was that girl, anyway? Was I really that...insipid? Good grief, give me a pen and paper and see what kind of letter I can write now.)

As for hubby's fake I.D. I found...that's another story altogether. (Unfortunately, hubby got his hands on that one and shredded it too.) Oh, I just love treasure hunting in this house!

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Two Aspies Are Better Than One

Yesterday was my last day of mentoring for the current school year. And since LM is already out of school, I asked him if he wanted to come along with me-- you know, to help.

"Why?" He asked. He always asks such awesome questions.

"Because LPB has Asperger's just like you! And I thought you'd like to meet him-- he doesn't have very many friends."

This got LM to thinking. He's a champion of the underdog, after all, and I knew I'd reel him in with that little tidbit.


When we got to the school and caught sight of LPB, my little man walked right up to him. Shy is not a word in his vocabulary.

"Hi! My name's LM, what's your name?"

LPB didn't answer at first, but then reluctantly proffered his name. LM then stuck his hand out to shake (the wrong hand), and LPB took it (with the doubly wrong hand) and I smiled down at their awkward exchange. This was gonna be fun.

We sat down to play a game together and I marveled at these two boys. One would say something, the other would completely ignore it, and neither seemed offended by this trend. I thought to myself, "Sheesh-- why bother with conversation at all?" but for some reason unbeknownst to me, this style of communication was working for them.

The game soon morphed into a sort of imaginary scenario in which game pieces became bombs and all hell broke loose. I don't know when or how it happened-- but they were totally tracking with each other.

"Pretend this is their ship and they are going to attack the enemy."

"This one's army is about to bomb the bad guys!"

"I'm sending a spy to see what the enemy is doing."

Sometimes they'd listen and go along with the other one's idea, but more often than not, they played in a sort of parallel manner rather than actually intersecting. And yet, they managed just fine. (Neither of them talked to me one iota, by the way. I could have gone out for coffee and wouldn't have been missed.)

At the end of our hour, LM and I left, and you know what? He hasn't mentioned LPB since. And I'm pretty sure LPB hasn't given LM any thought either. Aspies....

Friday, June 8, 2012

Up Yours, Upchuck!

Puke makes me wanna puke. And I've been having to clean up the stuff a lot lately. Our dog, Carson, has been graciously providing me with oodles of opportunities to fight my gag reflex in the last week.  (I suspect it's all the cat-poop she's eating out in the yard-- or something else equally delicious. Whatever it is, it's brown, chunky, and contains bits of yard waste.) Huge yard + no fence = one giant doggie buffet.

But what I really want to know is; why do dogs always have to find a spot of carpet to puke on? Our upstairs is completely hardwood floors except for an area rug and a few foot-wiping mats by the doors. Yet she has managed to land 75% of her vomit on the aforementioned carpeting. Why, why WHY? The only time she's managed to spew on the hardwood is when I've seen it coming and tried to get her outside first-- but there's no doubt in my mind she was aiming for the rug. She just loves pukin' on that rug....

So, is it just my dog who prefers to make my clean-up job infinitely more difficult, or is it a universal canine trait? Just curious....

And don't worry, she appears to be doing just fine now. (Well, as fine as an ancient boxer can be, that is.)

Monday, June 4, 2012

Drink Up, Me Hearties!

Someone visiting my house might ask, "Why does your 9-year old son have a Stella Artois chalice on his desk?"

I have two answers for this:
1. Pirates need chalices. Duh.
2. His aunt procured it for him. Aunts do stuff like that.

And anyway, it was our little concession to him after refusing his request to have a shelf full of rum on display above his bed. ("I won't drink it!" he promised, but still....)

Now all he needs is a parrot named Paulie! (Don't even think about it.)

Monday, May 28, 2012

Never Lick Horses

Sometimes it's hard being a parent. And I'm not referring to navigating through all those tricky emotional and behavioral issues that come along with raising children-- that stuff's a piece of cake. What's hard is explaining the meaning of words and phrases to your children-- ya know? Like, has your child ever asked you what "gregarious" or "cursory" or "insidious" mean (just to name a few)? They are not easy words to explain in layman's terms!

Well, today Ruby asked me what an "idiom" was. And my mom, who happened to be over at the time, thought the best route was to give her an example instead of a definition. Brilliant!

"Okay," I said, "have you ever heard the phrase 'never look a gift horse in the mouth'?"

"Never look at a gifted horse's mouth?" Ruby repeated.

"Uh, no...." I then gave her my example again.

"Never lick a gifted horse in the mouth?" Ruby tried a second time.

"NO!" I repeated my original idiom yet again. This was going nowhere! Meanwhile my mother was giggling her head off and offering her own feeble attempts at clarifying for Ruby, but to no avail. Finally, Ruby at least got the phrase correct, even if she didn't exactly understand it....

"What in the heck does that mean?" she asked, more confused than ever.

"Well, it means that if someone gives you something, you should accept it graciously."

At this point, we'd lost all hope of defining "idiom" in favor of simply getting her to understand the idiom itself. I'm still not sure how successful we were.

See what I mean? I'm not a dictionary, people! Hey...that just gave me an idea. (Pardon me-- I have a dictionary to hunt down and provide for Ruby Jane.)

Parenting issue solved! Should be smooth sailing from here on out.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Show And Tell

When I "checked in" almost 2 weeks ago, I had no idea it would take me this long to actually post again. To be honest, it's been a bit rough around here lately. I've had a dig a little deeper to find the humor in anything...until yesterday.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. Not very amusing in and of itself (it's usually drudgery, right?) until I headed for the checkout line and discovered a white-haired lady behind the counter. She seemed like any other white-haired lady, and then she opened her mouth.

"Hello there, darlin'! And what can I do for you today?"

On screen, those words don't appear to be that abnormal (even if it's a tad abnormal for a checker to ask you what you need from them). But because of the way she said it, I instantly wondered if I'd stumbled into some sort of non-traditional Kindergarten setting. I looked around. This is a grocery store, right? Yes, all adults here. I looked back at the lady.

"Er...I just have some groceries today." Did I give the correct answer, Mrs. Kindergarten?

"Well, zippity-doo-da! I can help!"

I was instantly thrown back into childhood and an overjoyed feeling washed over me at her news. She can help me-- yay! Wait a minute.... Of course she can-- it's her job!  I reminded myself this woman was not my Kindergarten teacher; she was a checker.

"Ohhhhhh, bad news bears! Did you mean to grab the buy-one-get-one-free chips?" She frowned deeply, studying my two bags of Lays potato chips.

"Yes...." Suddenly, I was five again and dismayed, "Did I do it wrong?"

"Let me just skidaddle over there real quick and check, okay hon?"

"Okay!" Please help me, Mrs. Kindergarten-- I didn't mean to do it wrong! It's just so hard finding the right buy-one-get-one-free chips sometimes! I waited for her to return, hands wringing.

"Good news! You got the right chips! Now, what's the problem with this silly old machine?" She tapped her screen a few times until the checker next door interrupted.

"It comes off at the end of the transaction," the gal said, voice flat. Clearly it was not unusual to have to explain things to Mrs. Kindergarten.

The older woman turned back to me, "Well, they just do it different every time, don't they? But we'll get it taken care of real quick, so don't you worry!"

Oh, what a relief! I knew she wouldn't let me down. I'm going to make it to first grade after all!

I swiped my credit card and was given some final instructions about using the touchpad.

"Now be careful with that mean ol' Mr. Pen, he doesn't work very well."

I gingerly held the pen and successfully signed my name. Phew-- crisis averted! Mean ol' Mr. Pen must have been in a good mood that day.

"You just go and have the most wonderful day now, okay?" She smiled and handed me my bags.

"You too!" I chirped. I did it-- I graduated! Yay me!

I got to my car and put my bags in the backseat, reality crashing into me as I realized I was old enough to drive. And the groceries I just bought? They were for my children. Hmmm, yes, I'm 34-years old, I remember now. I looked back at the grocery store, and for a quick second I could have sworn the sign said, "Market Elementary".

Monday, May 14, 2012

Checking In!

Yes, I'm still alive.
No, I haven't forgotten about my blog.
Yes, I've been busy (come over sometime and see the new place!)
No, I'm not going to post today.
Yes, I will soon.

Much love to all those who faithfully check! But for now, why not just amuse yourselves by going through some old posts? (Or do I flatter myself by assuming that will amuse you?)  Anyway, I'll be back soon-- promise. :)

Thursday, March 15, 2012

A New Twist

I had no idea that when Moses parted the Red Sea (powerful sword in hand!) his shark minions helped to destroy the pursuing Egyptian Army. But man, those Egyptians were probably pretty surprised!

1. LM: "Ruby, if you could be any candlestick you wanted, who would you be?"
Ruby: "Why would we be candlesticks?"
LM: "Because the whole school would be cake!"
(It's official, that's one of the weirdest conversations I've ever heard.)

2. LM: (after his sister had irritated him) "Ugh-- Americans!"
(I know, right?)

3. Hubby: (asleep-- sitting up suddenly-- eyes wide) "I'm trying to figure out what just opened...torey-lope lotion." (Then he laid back down.) "All I know is I'm glad I have this beast of a chest to put stuff blankets."
(I almost burst out laughing as he was talking-- I could hardly type!)

4. LM: "I'm gonna need a chalice, Mom. Do we have any chalices?"
Me: "Um...nooooo."

5. Me: "Give me a huge hug and don't let go until I say so."
LM: "Are we done yet?"
Me: "Okay."
LM: "That was very annoying what you just did."
(Maybe, but he had a big ol' smile on his face the entire time-- so it couldn't have been that annoying.)

6. Ruby: (talking about the play LM was creating for the whole family) "You're going to need a script."
LM: "No, Ruby, here's how it's going to work; first, I say something, then, you say something that makes sense back."
(LM just demystified the art of acting. Nice.)

7. LM: "I just like it when people read me action stories...and anything about stealing art."

8. Hubby: (asleep, kicking his legs wildly, yelling at the top of his lungs) "I said get out of here!  Leave NOW!"
(Way to give me a near heart-attack there, buddy.)

9. LM: "What does my breath smell like?"
Ruby: "Sadness, destruction and grief."
(Whoa, that must be some nasty breath!)

10. LM: (in a fevered, sleep-state) "I just want to find my mom!"
Me: "I'm right here, sweetie."
LM: "No! I mean my real mom!"
Me: "Again, that would be me."
(He didn't remember this exchange the next morning.  Looks like someone takes after his dad!)

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Going Once, Going Twice....

Well, we sold our house (barring any crazy unforeseen circumstances, which I've learned really do exist in life). That means we're moving into (gulp) hubby's childhood home in less than a month. And if I wasn't afraid of getting caught, I would regale you with many endearing stories regarding this move, but alas, my no-holds-barred approach to blogging does have its limitations after all.... (Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk!)

How about a few quotes instead? It's a rather paltry list, but it's all I got! (But, after having gotten a Kindle, I've discovered I can discreetly take notes when/if hubby starts talking in bed as I'm reading. Wahaha! And boy, do I have a good one.)

1. Hubby: (asleep, giggling, then getting serious again) "I tell you what, she'd probably burn her foot and wouldn't even know it, yes sir. I got leather on the brain, baby, leather on the brain...."
(He went on a little longer, but my texting thumbs couldn't keep up. I would like to know what's so fascinating about leather, though.)

2. LM: "Dad's pretty young for his age. He looks old, but he's still pretty young."

3. LM: (whining) "What's for dinner?"
Hubby: "Roadkill...and mustard."
LM: "What?! No! I HATE mustard!"
(But the thought of roadkill was doable?)

4. LM: (getting into the car) "Let's get this road on the show!"

5. LM: "Mom, how much would Carson weigh if she was a hundred pounds?"
(Um, is this a trick question?)

6. (The kids and I were talking about their father's second attempt at a stache-- this time General George Custer being the look he's after...yikes.)
LM: "Who knows, Mom, you might even get a baby out of it!"
Me: "A baby...?"
LM: "Yeah-- 'cause Dad's gonna be sexy! And sex is the secret ingredient!"
Me: "Uhhhhh...."
LM: (squealing with excitement) "I'm so excited! You're going to have a baby!"
(Just remember, bud, there is no "sexy" in "mustache"-- there's just..."ache".)

7. LM: (after correctly spelling all his words for the week) "Well done, myself! Very well done!"
(Nothing like a little self-affirmation.)

Wish us luck as we move!  Invitations to come see the "new" place will be forthcoming.

Monday, February 13, 2012


A hug! He gave me a freakin' hug! (You'll have to pardon my French, but it's completely apropos considering it's my Aspie mentee we're talking about here.)

A hug may seem like a simple enough affair, especially for those of you who know LM and just how huggable that little dude is. But not all Aspies are as touchy-feely as my LM. The LPB has never gotten in my personal bubble before, so a hug was completely unexpected.  But here I am, starting with the end of the story....

Today was a bit different than usual. When I got to the school The LPB informed me, "I've got my coat on, so we're going outside today."

What? A break in routine? Game on! But, still, I had to double-check. " K'nex today?"

"No-- we can't play K'nex outside."

Oh. Duh. If only Aspie logic was more prevalent in the wide, wide world. Only problem is...I hate going outside. I go outside for three reasons: to get in my car, to take a jog or walk when I'm fed up with my treadmill, or when somebody makes me (which isn't often because, let's face it, I'm a grown-up now). I don't like to go hang out in the great outdoors. Blech! Yet, it's not all about me, is it?

But first we had to eat lunch. And I noticed The LPB eyeing my juice. "You...uh...want my juice?"

"Yep," he said, grabbing it and handing me his chocolate milk.  "We'll trade today." He then made short work of my apple-berry blend.

"You wanna see somethin' fun?" I asked, a wicked gleam in my eye. "But we gotta wait until those Kindergartners pass by first," I whispered conspiratorially. We watched the little guys traipse past on their way to the lunch line, trying to look as innocent as possible. When they were out of sight, I blew up the juice pouch and set it on the floor. Then I stomped on it; hard. What I was trying to do was send the straw flying across the room. But what happened in reality was that a spray of juice rocketed over the carpet, the straw staying firmly in place. (Guess I should have made sure the pouch was empty first. Oops.)  I know I should have been mortified, but we laughed our heads off. I'd never seen him laugh before.

Then we headed outside, whereupon I learned my fate for the rest of our time together. I was to become a bomb deactivator. I have no employable skills in this area, but I accepted the job regardless. (Don't let anyone tell you Aspies don't have imaginations. They just have...different ways of actualizing their imaginary worlds than us neuro-typicals.)  The LPB has a very literal, logical imagination. For instance, when I took out my keys and said, "Wait a minute! I have a bomb deactivating tool! Look!" he stared at my keys and stated, "those are keys."  "I know they're keys! But we're pretending!"  Hey, if he was taking me outside my box, I certainly wasn't going to let him stay all comfy-cozy in his.

I also learned that to play in LPB's world means to do everything he tells me to and to keep my ideas to myself; he doesn't want or need them.

"Hey! I think I see a suspicious-looking building over there! Must be a bomb nearby!"

"No, that's just a storage shed. There's no bomb in there."

"Oh." And so on.

But by the time we went inside, I'd learned a thing or two about saving the elementary school from bomb-laying evil-doers. We marched inside to meet his class, all lined up in the hallway. We were smiling and rosy-cheeked from running around the field in search of bombs. And that's when he hugged me. I was saying goodbye, and didn't even expect him to acknowledge it. let alone initiate physical contact.

I won't see him next Monday (President's Day), but that hug will last me until our next "appointment".

Thursday, February 2, 2012

A Pox On Us!

Chickenpox, round two!  That's right, LM finally got 'em (three weeks after Ruby's bout).  I can attest to the fact Ruby had them way worse, yet LM is far-and-away the more vigorous complainer and less easily appeased of the two.  Apparently a man's inability to handle sickness starts early in life.  (No offense to any of you macho exceptions out there, of course!)  But c'mon gals, can I get an amen?

1. LM: (trying to get by his sister) "Can I get through?"
Ruby: "No."
LM: "Why?"
Ruby: "Because you exist!"
LM: "What does exist mean?"
Ruby: "It means you're real."
LM: "I can't go through because I'm real?"
(Suddenly, her original proclamation doesn't seem so bitingly witty anymore.)

2. LM: "Mom, let's buy our favorite animal, cut it open, and offer it to God-- you know, like a sacrifice."
Me: "But we don't have to do that anymore.  Jesus came and was the last sacrifice on our behalf."
LM: "Well, Mom, God likes it when we give extra sacrifices."
(Somehow, I don't think dead animals is what He's after.)

3. Me: "LM, your zipper's down."
LM: "Oh, are the horses leaving the barn?"
Me: ", they're still in there...."
(I believe the phrase he was looking for was "the barn door's open".  Dang, now I have imagery I need to remove from my head.)

4. LM: (looking at the freshly falling snow outside) "Uh, Mom-- this is a little crazy, but...I think Christmas is coming back!"
(Yeah, in about 10 1/2 months.)

5. LM: (talking about what he'd say if someone bullied Ruby) "If you put a hand on my sister, I'll put a hand on your FACE!!"
(You may know by now that, for better or worse, I don't discourage this sort of talk.)

6. The Mister: (after cracking an egg and missing the bowl entirely, he stares at the mess) "That's not my best work."
(Ah, but I beg to differ....  I believe that may indeed be as good as it gets.)

7. Hubby: (asleep) "Huuuuuuuhhhhh!  There it is-- THANK YOU, JESUS!"
("Thank you, Jesus" being yelled out in a child's sing-song manner.)

8. LM: (playing Clue, and offering a colorful guess) "It was Colonel Mustard, in the Hallway-- he shot the victim dead cold."

9. LM: "Mom, is it true on your second date you have to have French?"
Me: (stunned silent, wondering where he heard about French kissing.)
LM: "Mom! Did you and Dad eat French on your second date?"
Me: (relief flooding over me as I realize he's talking about food) "Oh!  No, we didn't.  You can eat whatever you want on your second date."
(As long as it's not each other's faces.)

10. LM: (having me compare pet weight to people weight) "How much would 2 Carsons weigh?"
Me: "That would be about one Ruby."
LM: "How much would one Carson and one puppy be?"
Me: "About one you."
LM: "How much would 100 Carsons be?"
Me: "Oh, gosh, I don't think---"
LM: "One Popi?"
Me: "Not even close, bud."
(Popi's more like three Carsons and a Chihuahua.)

Have a wonderful day, everyone!  We're about to start yet another movie here-- I've lost count.  (Don't judge me too harshly.)  Apparently my inability to handle the boy's sickness is just as dismal as his own.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Right Track

Apparently LM's school does not embrace the concept of capitalism or the entrepreneurial spirit. Because when he made an impressive snow fort and tried to charge his classmates to come in, the recess supervisors put a kibosh on the activity, saying the snow fort should be for everyone's enjoyment. Sheesh, what a bunch of commies!  (So what if the Kindergartners didn't have a buck on 'em.  No pay-- no play!)

See, LM gets his business sense from his brilliant Popi.  It's a gift.  And what if Popi's mom had told him, as a youngster, he couldn't dress his little sister up as a hula dancer to attract customers to his bingo parlor?  That fun little world of female exploitation and underage gambling would have been squelched, Popi's pocket change all but nonexistent.  Sad and wrong!

Tell you what, LM, I'll buy your snow fort from you. That'll provide a little venture capital for your next endeavor. Then you can ask Popi about how to start a back-alley casino for minors. We'll get you back on the road to success, son!

Friday, January 20, 2012

Mmmm, Mmmm, Good!

If I weren't darn sure I'm not pregnant, I'd wonder.  'Cause how else do I explain the ravenous cravings I've been having for pickled jalapenos, and roasted seaweed.  (Not together, of course, but...hmmmmm, might make for a very funky Asian-Mexican fusion.)

Monday, January 9, 2012


After nearly a month away (winter break and yada yada), I was able to meet with my Aspie mentee today.   Boy, did I miss him!

Today there was no "get to know you period" like last time, he came out in full force with a proclamation immediately upon seeing me.

"Did you know that the first letter of my name," and here he pauses for dramatic effect as I hold my breath in excited anticipation for the revelation to come, "is a letter from the alphabet?"  I have to admit, the news is less than stunning, but I play along.


"Actually, every letter in my name is from the alphabet!"  He looks mighty pleased with himself.

I put my finger to my chin, tapping in thought.  "You know what?  Same here!  And guess what else?  Our names both start with the same letter!  Cool, huh?"

He couldn't care less.  Didn't even dignify my statement with a response.  One thing you have to realize about many Aspies is that they're very interested in their own revelations, and couldn't give a rip about yours.  (Unless your revelation is that you'd like to take them out to ice cream, give them money, etc.)  This makes me smile, however, because this perceived egocentrism is one of their many qualities that I find rather endearing.  But I know not to waste time trying to get him to recognize and respond to my jibber-jabber.  I'll save that for when I have something really important to say.

Instead, we move on to the main event: K'nex.  This boy is a Lego and K'nex junkie, and being that my mentee (hmmm, the kid needs a blog name!  Henceforth I will refer to him as "The Little Polar Bear" or The LPB) is very routine-oriented, I doubt our 45-minutes together will ever veer much from this activity.  That's okay with me.  After all, I'm learning a valuable new skill.  Hey, have you ever tried to build anything out of K'nex? It ain't easy.

We take out the robots we built the last time we hung out.  "They want to watch us build something else."

"Okay," I say.  "Should they stand together to watch?  Are they friends or enemies?"

The LPB looks at me as though I'm an idiot, which of course I am.  "They're friends because we're friends!"


And apparently, being friends means I have to share my lunch with him.

"Are you going to eat those?" he asks, pointing to my little bag of Pirate's Booty.  They'd been sitting there for a while as I busied myself with the K'nex.

"Would you like some?  I'll share!"

He digs in.  We sit side by side for the rest of our time, building and chatting, tearing down and building again.  I gently probe him for details of his social life.  He asks me nothing except to "pass the Pirate's Booty!" every now and then, or to inform me that I've just put the wrong piece in the wrong spot.  Sometimes, I push back on his social awkwardness just a tad.  I mean, what's the point of having a mentor if they don't teach you anything?  And as we grow closer, I'll push a little more, but for now I want him to know that I accept him hook, line and sinker.

When we're finished, he has no issues returning his tray (like last time).  It's already business as usual.  I smile at him, "Thanks for hanging out!  I'll see you soon!"

He doesn't say good-bye.  But I didn't expect him to.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Plague Of Plaque

I hate going to the dentist.  Hate.  It.  It's a place where you voluntarily go to be demeaned and tortured, and sometimes even pay for the privilege.

"So, Nona, tell me about your flossing habits-- are you a regular flosser?"

I've attempted to stretch the truth on this subject before, but I have come to see the absolute futility of it.  So I answer truthfully-- perhaps too truthfully.

"Nope. I only floss once or twice a week.  Or if I've eaten chicken or popcorn in the last 24-hours."  I feel like I'm on the losing side of a confessional.

"Well, you should really floss every night."

"I know."  I shrug my shoulders as if to say, "So, what are you gonna do about it?"  But my smile is so sweet I catch her off guard.

I mean, I realize that ideally I should floss every night, but there's only one person I know who is that anally dedicated; my father.  That man is superhuman (and frankly, weird).

But my hygienist pays me back for my wayward oral health with a little torture device known as the "water flosser".  In short, this tool turns a benign stream of water into a sharp needle that emits a piercing supersonic shriek as it stabs the gums between your teeth over and over and over again.  I want to raise the white flag in surrender.

But I also realized something interesting during my brief stint in the dental chair this time.  Hygienists speak "Wide Open Mouth" fluently.  It is not an easy language to learn, I assure you.  I wonder if it's a required class in dental school?  Why else would they purposely try to create conversation with you while your mouth is stretched to maximum capacity with various implements shoved inside it?  It's amazing to me.

"Did you have a nice Christmas, Nona?"

"Uhh-huh, eh ah ary i."

"Oh, good! Do you have family in town?"

"Uhh-huh, ari an I ha our alies ere."

"That's so nice you both have family here.  Oops!  Looks like we have a bleeder there!  You might want to concentrate more on this area when brushing and flossing."


"Good.  Tell me again how old your kids are."

"Uy i ele-en, L-eh i eigh."

"Oh my!  Eleven and eight?  They are growing up so fast!"


At this point I am silently willing her to stop talking to me.  I just know I'm going to gleek on her.  And that would be mortifying.

But the worst part of the whole ordeal (yes, even worse than the water flosser) is the fluoride rinse.  I'm practically gagging just thinking about it right now.  I would like to know how valuable it truly is to rinse with fluoride for 60 seconds twice a year.  Is it making such a significant difference in my oral health that I should feel obligated to subject myself to this sort of nauseating torture?  Someone, please tell me why I do this.

But the highlight of going to the dentist?  When it's all over and I realize I don't have to come back for another six months.  And guess what?  I haven't had a filling in ten years.  Take that, you sadist flossing-nazi hygienist!

Monday, January 2, 2012

Secret Ingredients

Happy New Year!  I've been thinking about what my resolutions will be, but nobody seems as excited about them as I am.  I suggested to hubby, "Why don't we go vegan for a year!  Doesn't that sound like fun?!"  No matter how much I tried to sugar coat it (or, more veganly, raw honey coat it) hubby was not biting.  I was prepared for this, however, and changed my tactic, "How about if only I go vegan for a year?"  My sister and brother-in-law shook their heads, giving hubby abject looks of sympathy.  I wasn't ready to give up, though.  "What if I go vegan on the weekdays, but eat like everyone else on weekends and special occasions?"  No love there, either.  "Okay!  How about if I'm just vegetarian on weekdays, and eat like everyone else on weekends and special occasions?"  Hubby rolled his eyes in exasperation.  So, where did things end up?  I have no idea!  But I do know one thing: as the cook goes, so goes everyone else.  Wahahahaaaa!

Here are some quotes to start the year off with a smile:

1. Me: (coming up behind LM and hugging him) "I love you!"
LM: "Uhhh, thanks, Mom.  You're making me nervous."

2. LM: (extremely excited about a friend coming over, going through his prep list) "Got dressed: check.  Got a movie: check.  Brushed my teeth: check.  Cleaned my room: raincheck."

3. LM: "Dora and Diego sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-T-U-V!"
(Would that be the Russian version, possibly?)

4. LM: (talking about marrying a girl someday) "First, I need to get sexy."
Me: "Oh, well, you don't need to worry about that right now.  That'll come later."
LM: "But Mom, I have to be sexy for my wife to have babies-- 'cause sex is the secret ingredient!"
Me: "Ooooookaaaaaay...."
(Quick!  Someone change the subject!)

The next four are quotes that my dad has collected during his time with the grandchildren and then sent to me.  I use them with his permission.

1. Popi: "Bopper, did you know that Nini was in Popi's kindergarten class?"
Bopper: "Was she your teacher?"
(Not sure how to take this... does she think Nini is that much older than me or that much smarter??)

2. Mister: "Popi, I have a secret."
Popi: "Well, can you tell me what it is?"
Mister: "I can tell you behind the door." (He proceeds to leave the room, close the door, and state the secret so I can't hear, then comes back in looking a little relieved.)
Popi: "Mister, can you whisper the secret in my ear?"
Mister: (coming close and looking like he is unsure if it's a good idea to reveal the information, but then whispers) "Popi, I don't like you a little bit."
Popi: "Why, Mister?"
Mister: "Because you told me not to climb over the couch." (Eee gads, that was yesterday!)

3. LM: "Popi, next time you go snorkeling in Hawaii, could you get me a shark tooth?  Actually, about 13.  I need one for everyone in my class."
(One or 13, it's about the same degree of difficulty....)

4. LM: "If you don't study in school you might grow up and have a smelly job-- like a fisherman.  But if I were a fisherman I'd just have lots of cologne on my boat.  I'd spray it everywhere."
(Sounds like it could still be a smelly job.)

That's it for now!  May you succeed in your goals this year (however clever you need to be to achieve them)!