Any Opinions?

I just started reading this after its big two-part series on Oprah. I haven't formed my opinion yet on it, but it sure is an interesting read so far! Thoughts on it so far?

Favorite Oscar Moment

The Oscar Bjorn. Love it.

Closing Time!!!

My sister is closing on her new house today!!! Her husband's in Iraq so it's a tad bittersweet as of course, she wishes he could be here with her when she gets the keys to their first new place as a married couple!! But he'll be back here soon enough! If you have a moment, head over to "Old Man Hancock" and give her a high five!!! Congrats, AnnaMary!! Yayyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!

The Oscar Bjorn

OK this was by far one of the most entertaining Oscar shows I've ever seen. Instead of the dog- and-pony-show that is Hollywood patting each other on the back, I found myself laughing my ass off on multiple occasions, mostly thanks to Ellen, who among other things, made it clear that she will never hook up with George Clooney much to his chagrin. She danced, she took pictures on her digital camera for MySpace, she gave Martin Scorcese a script, she made dog shadows, and then, there was the Oscar Bjorn, Ellen walking out wearing a Baby Bjorn carrying an Oscar, you know, because you want to have your hands free but still be able to admire your lovely bald guy throughout the evening. Hilarious!

And on a sidenote: Jennifer Hudson!! Winning an Oscar for Dreamgirls!!! Proof that when one door closes, another opens. I love it!! Who knew an Idol cast-off would go on to win a Golden Globe and an Oscar!! She walked off the stage with her mouth open and her jaw dropped to the floor. I got all teary! And isn't Beyonce' just absolutely gorgeous no matter what? Anyway, I'm not really much of an Oscar-follower. I had a few favorites, like Little Miss Sunshine and Jennifer Hudson and it's like this every year for me, I don't really end up watching any of the Oscar-nominated movies although I vow to every year. And then I think, boy I really should watch that, and I really do want to, and I even think I might rent them after the Oscars, but I never really do. Oh well. So I watch the Oscars usually with the option of turning it off when it gets boring and coming back to it to see Best Picture at the end, but I found myself sticking with it all night because of its hilarity. I'm gonna venture out on a limb here, but we're headed toward a 4 1/2 maybe even a 5 Peeps-rated show. (I almost left out the word "rated" just then, but then it would have read 5-Peeps show, which may or may not have had a different meaning depending on how your interpreted it). Maybe I should just say, I'm giving this year's Oscars a rating of 4 1/2 or 5 Peeps for outstanding humor/slash/comedic performance.

Game On!

The Thursday Thirteen isn't even skipping a beat. Amidst all my inner panic, alas! There is a light! And this Thursday there will be a list, Oh yes! There will be a list! The folks at Thursday Thirteen have changed hands and there's a new crew on board. Here's the scoop. I'm so excited, it's more exciting than climbing the rope in gym class.

"I'm in a heartbreaking love with an old man."

I love Google. I have always loved Google. I google everything. If I can't spell a word, I google it. If I want a recipe for lemon chicken, I google it. If I want to find free music to put on my blog, google. Words to a song? Google. A picture of Peeps, google. Fun blogger tools. I use google for everything. Ooh, and googling people including myself. One day long ago, I threw out my keys. It was a magical experience for me. My husband was in China, I had to call a tow truck to tow it to the dealership so they could re-digitize a new set for me. $500 altogether to lose keys, by the way. But before I realized, or acknowledged, rather, that they were indeed gone and lost into the forever unknown, I googled, "Where are my keys?" in a last ditch effort to find them. Unfortunately, the internet did not know where my keys were either. But I found out then that other people have asked google the same question. And I wondered back then if they also turned to google to help them figure out any other of life's complicated questions. Turns out I was right. My sister called me a little while ago, she has the blog "Old Man Hancock", about her husband's (Old Man) deployment. And she was looking at the site meter, and saw that someone got to her site by googling "I'm in a heartbreaking love with an old man." She blogged about this too, by the way, I just couldn't help myself. Anyway, it was both puzzling and heartbreaking to me, because I can't help but wonder if this person was, too, in a last ditch effort to figure it all out. And it wasn't even a question, it was a sentence that maybe they just sent out into the google void. I wonder if it helped. We're both probably reading way too much into it. But it does make one think. If you can't get the answer from google, where can you get it?

We're Walkin for Preemies!

You probably already knew this, but our little Poops was an earlybird. He was born 6 weeks premature, which may or may not have had something to do with the preeclampsia I developed at the end of my second trimester. For those of you who are new here, you can read my story here. Well this April, the March of Dimes is holding its WalkAmerica walk, which also happens to coincide with Poops' first birthday! How fitting, right? Even though ten months has passed, his prematurity is still very fresh to me and so is our experience in the NICU. I have a very dear friend who is going through it all right now with her baby boy who was born just a couple of weeks ago, at 30 weeks. So this walk is very near and dear to my heart. If I could spare any baby and any parent from the experience of an early delivery, I would do it. It's scary as shit. But for now, this is what I can do. I can raise awareness and raise money for an organization who can help figure out why this happens to our babies and fix it. The funny thing is, when I was in middle school and high school, we always used to walk in this walk because it started at the elementary school right down the block from our house, and the route wound right through my neighborhood. And even though I walked every year, I never got it. It was just a fun walk to me. But there were probably mothers and fathers and babies who walked the walk because prematurity touched their lives, and many of those may not have been as lucky as we were with Poops. He came out virtually unscathed! I know everyone has a cause that they blog about and you all have to read about, and this one is mine. Mostly because I never though this would happen to us and I would give anything for it not to happen to anyone else. But also partly because being proactive in this fight will help me heal. So, if you're in the Tampa Bay area and you'd like to join our team, please, join us! But if you'd like to sponsor us instead, I would so love you forever! I have set up a lofty goal for myself ($1,000) and for our team ($5,000). The button on my sidebar will take you straight to our team's web site so you can donate or join our team, The NICU Vets. Everyone who donates will be placed on my sidebar. Thank you for reading about our journey so far and I hope you'll stick around for the ride, even without Thursday Thirteen! (haha)
((hugs))

Christie

What a difference in just ten months!! Here's the then and now.

Retirement Day

In addition to the (possible) end to the Thursday Thirteen, and I say possible because it appears there are talks for someone else to buy the rights which would save it and that would be wunderbar!, today also marks a very important day in the life of the "90210 crowd" who has also grown up and followed its distant cousin, "The O.C." Tonight is the series finale! Now, I agree that the writers have all but completely run out of themes and directions to go in. Seriously, how many times can Ryan get into a fight? You can literally see the end of the show coming when you see one of the main characters finding his soul in some dream and his soul is an otter, or a giant earthquake hitting Orange County after one of the characters reads about it being "earthquake weather". (?) But as crazy as it got, I guess I still hoped it would find a home on the CW Network, where I truly feel it belongs when it gets a little "out there". But alas, it hasn't. So I will recap the series of memorable moments in this fun little ditty that probably no one watches anymore except me.

Troubled teen, Ryan, abandoned by his parents is taken in by rich family (The Cohens) in Orange County. Troubled teen makes geeky rich teen son of the parents who took him in (Seth), pretty cool. They both get hot rich chicks (Summer and Marisa). Make other rich boys mad. There are dozens of fights along the way. Troubled teen gets rich kids into trouble. Fringe characters come in (Oliver, Trey, Theresa, Volchek, Johnny) make trouble for troubled teen and rich kids, then get killed off or move away. One of them moves away after killing one of the rich kids (Marisa) and this is when the show takes a turn for the worse. Some shows just can't rebound after killing a major character, sadly, and this is one of them. Although I think Mischa Barton chose to leave to better her career and I haven't seen her in anything ever since except for a Neutrogena commercial. Sad. Let's not forget the adultery, the pregnancies, Kirsten's alcoholism, Marisa's alcoholism, the fraud, the cheating, the lying, the backstabbing, the hugs, the tears, the Green Peace rallies, and of course the wonderful holiday that is Christmakkah. Ahh, the rollercoaster that is true, made for tv drama. The good stuff. I feel like the Peach Pit is closing all over again.

Anyway, a heartfelt goodbye to The O.C. I have loved your theme song, it is on my IPod. Californiaaaaaaaaaa, Californiaaaaaaaa! I have loved your characters, and even though it went way over the top in the end, I will miss you. Thanks for the memories.

MOMENT OF SILENCE FOR THE END OF THURSDAY THIRTEEN(SCROLL DOWN FOR THE VERY LAST ONE EVER!! WAHHHH!!)

Well I am just completely flummoxed! I didn't see this coming! I don't know why, but Thursday Thirteen has announced its retirement officially and I didn't see this coming at all! And I'm actually crushed! We were not warned! No one said a word! It just appeared on the website as if out of nowhere? Will someone take over? Will people continue to do it anyway? What's going to fill this huge void left in my heart/slash/life by the Thursday Thirteen? I guess I will actually get stuff done on Thursdays now, instead of obsessing all day over leaving comments and reading comments left for me by other people. But man, this meme is actually how I learned about this blogworld which was a complete secret to me, (I just thought I'd start writing some stuff, I had no idea it was this!!) and I've met such wonderful blogging friends, all thanks to that wonderful tt! I feel like the Thursday Thirteen is my dad pushing me on my bicycle from behind while I'm riding it with no training wheels and then all of a sudden I look back and he has let go without warning! And now I'm to blog and meet other bloggers, all on my very own! I guess it can be done. Maybe I'll move to Wordless Wednesdays, which is equally as addicting. And I can stop thinking about things in my life in terms of lists. Anyway, I'm upset. I can't even call my sister and tell her because she's in class right now, but boy is she going to be as disappointed as I am! I'm having a moment.

Thursday Thirteen #18 (the last one ever!! sniff! wail! noooooooo!)

This baby mobility thing is really a double-edged sword. I hate being the bad guy! I'm running out of diversionary tactics, trying desperately to keep the "no's" to a minimum while still letting him explore safely. Man, I'm exhausted! So here it is:

13 Things Baby Repeatedly Gets Into (and has since had to be moved or removed)

1. Favorite red chenille blanket with fringes at the edge. For eating, only. Baby loves everything red and everything fringe.

2. Cat food. Wet or dry. No discrimination here. He target-locks onto this and moves quickly. All you hear is "slap slap slap" which are his hands and knees on the tile. If you don't see his head you know he's closing in on the cat bowl.

3. My hair which seems to get everywhere. Seriously considering mom-cut.

4. The stone fireplace. Ordering fireplace cover tonight so as not to have baby with cracked front teeth.

5. Cords of any kind. The computer. The cable box. Phone charger. Lamps.

6. Straps of any kind. Diaper bag. Computer bag. Purses. Thankfully, these are pretty harmless. He wins the battle on these.

7. Sockets. Love love love those socket protectors.

8. Other people's shoes. Not sure why. Loves them, both on and off.

9. Underside of the area rug. Still. Ew!

10. The TV stand. Still trying to get into the doors with repeated unsuccessful attempts. Will instead eat shiny silver knobs.

11. Curtains. Loves floor length curtains. What was I thinking with floor-length curtains.

12. Microtiny-anything. No matter how clean my floors are, and I'm telling you I'm the nazi floor-cleaner, he'll still find that one tiny little speck of whatever, and I'll see the little fingers curled under and the fist heading toward his mouth and know there's something in it. How does he find these things???!!!

13. The cat. Her only defense is to run and so far, she's still faster.

*(note: somewhere along the way I skipped #5, so technically this is my real #18.)

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

A Post About Nothing

Maybe Sylar snuck into my head and took all my blogging ideas. Not that I had anything spectacular up there anyway, but for two days now, nothing. Not since after Heroes, when Sylar scared me and then I couldn't sleep. This is what happens to me after I see something scary. I am a complete wimp. Plus I can't shower with my eyes closed for a few days. (I'm still writing about it and it's Wednesday!) By the way after that episode Monday, I came out to the living room and turned on Conan and saw Max Weinberg doing a little "Conan commercial" for a Medela Breastpump. I tried to find it on You Tube to post it, it was hysterical. "The Medela 600 Breastpump. What Max Weinberg would use if he was breastfeeding." The scarier thing was actually doing a search for "breastpump" on You Tube. Do you know how many men have posted video of themselves using a breastpump?

So that's what I got today. Men and breastpumps. It's amazing what comes out when you're staring at a blank screen (you're right, Sparky!) Wonder what kind of hits I'll get from writing that, you'd be amazed at how many combinations of "Poop" get people here.

Anyway, I am in a groove with running and working out. I am writing that because I am about to go now actually, as soon as I can find it in me to put down the computer and get out of my pajamas. My mother-in-law will be here in 22 minutes to watch Poops. For the past two weeks, I have expanded my repertoire to include a workout 5 days a week and the scale is finally moving again albeit somewhat slowly. After three months of having a stubborn scale that refused to move even one tick, I have decided, and I realize I am stating the obvious here, that three days at the gym does nothing for one's weightloss goals. And interestingly enough, neither do Girl Scout cookies, which, after the holidays, is the next big "season" to try and thwart my weightloss. We have four boxes in the house and two more on the way. We've succumbed to the madness! I guess we "feel bad" for the various Girl Scouts we know, like the neighbor-lady's daughter and my husband's co-worker's daughters, so we have to help and boost their sales. It's charity! We're being charitable! Right? Despite attempts by the Girl Scouts to undo all my doings, I am still what I like to call "on the wagon", and I am still able to ignore the desperate, tempting, pleading calls to me by the Thin Mints from my freezer. By ignoring I mean I won't complete dive into the box and eat an entire row. I will occasionally partake in the Thin Mint love. Oh and Samoas. Those are my bestest favorites, but Samoas have more calories so I haven't opened those boxes yet. Happy Wednesday! Happy Girl Scout Cookie Season!

Let's play a little game...

Fill in the blank:

"You know you're a blogger when..."


oh, and ps. Peep-lovers in the lead, but barely. Scroll down to vote!

Sylar Stinks!

I love the show Heroes! It is simultaneously riveting and stressful and its evil villain is truly, truly evil. Almost nightmare-evil. I have a headache right now from how evil he is. I don't watch scary movies because they stress me out too much and this show pushes that limit for me, but I will still watch devotedly and in the meantime I will battle the evil villain by making a "button of dislike" for him. This shall remain on my sidebar until further notice. Feel free to use it. Take that, evil villain!


(It's not the best quality but neither is my photo editing program. Sorry.) Meantime, watch Heroes, Monday nights at 9pm et on NBC. Trust me, you will love it! Leave me a comment if you watched it and couldn't believe the ending either!!!! HOLY CRAP!

I'll Take a PB&J and a Side of Chicken, but Hold the Salmonella and the Botulism, Will You, Please?

OK. This is getting a little ridiculous. First, the tainted peanut butter, which, by the way, I had in my cupboard and I was literally one second from stuffing my piehole with salmonella when I found out it was being recalled. Then, I walk in from my food shopping escapade today with pre-cooked chicken strips for our lovely fajitas and (lucky me!!) I had decided to get the Perdue instead of the Oscar Mayer. Whew! But then, if that's not enough. Earth's Best Organic babyfood, which I also got stocked up on today, and now that's recalled because it contains some form of botulism! Now, I will say that the babyfood we have is one digit off on the number of the recalled product, and it's just a day off on the expiration date, but I don't care. I'm not taking any chance on feeding Poops botulism. I used to make all his food, but then I thought the organic stuff was pretty harmless, but now they can forget it!

If you don't know what I'm talking about, here's the newest list of food recalls.
Please, for the love of Pete, what is happening to our food supply? So here it is, my good, old-fashioned blog rant, and I apologize for my impending over-the-top-ness.

--begin rant--
I already won't eat Dole salads or Earthbound Farms (a Dole company) and fresh spinach because of the poop that watered the fields a few months ago. And that happened while I was on a complete spinach kick. So much for the leafy greens. How's a girl supposed to eat healthy and remain bacteria-virus-and madcow-free when all the green leafies and the healthy stuff turns out to have crap, salmonella, and something called Clostridium botulinum in them? I may as well have a Big Mac! I fear, that I, the anti-green-thumb, am going to have to dig deep and find my inner "mother nature" and turn into a food nazi on my tiny plot of suburbia-land, growing and raising all of my food myself. Fingers crossed it'll work. The chickens, the eggs, the milk, the salads, I will have to get whatever makes peanuts (is it a tree?) and walnuts. While I'm at it, I may as well stop using electricity, dig a well, and oh I won't be needing my car and all the fumes it lets off (since I won't be needing it to shop for food), because the world is crumbling from Global Warming anyway. What's the use? Maybe it will be good preparation for when the earth begins flooding from the melting polar ice caps and everything shuts down, and the world begins to panic, and then it will be "snaps for Christie!" Everyone in my neighborhood will look to me for the food I began farming long ago because I saw it coming. It will be a meager farm. One cow. Two chickens. A couple of peanut trees. A lettuce patch. Some tomatoes and other good veggies that grow in the Florida sand. Some strawberries, oranges, and blueberries, they do good here. Maybe some herbs. I'll have to learn how to make cheese. And wine. Wheat too, so I can make bread. Perhaps, I can delve one day into chocolate. Coffee? It's food roulette! Which food will make you sick next? Everyone, place your bets!

A little old man and a box of dye.

I don't know when it was that I became "too good" for boxed hair-dye. I am one of those people who always colors their hair and who has no idea what their natural color is. I am quite sure that it is an icky mousy brown with a side of graying. When I first started college, I colored it a bright red because I could. Plus, I was still finding myself and I thought I was one of those grunge girls who wore flannel and Doc Martins and listened to Pearl Jam. Then in my early 20's, I got a real job and went a little less red and a little more brown. All of this, thanks to Natural Instincts hair dye. It was temporary so I changed it all the time but it was usually some shade of red. Then there was a transformation somewhere when I left boxed hair dye. It may have been around the same time I left boxed wine. I am not sure. So I went from the $6 dollar hairdo to the $100 hairdo and had a professional do it. It looked pretty much the same, it just lasted longer, so if, perchance, there was a disaster, I was screwed.

Today, I reverted back. I went to a cheapy salon, if you can call it that, and asked for a haircut. I didn't think you could go wrong with long hair, just trim the layers and the length a bit. I walked in, and I swear, I thought the little old guy at the register was the owner. Not a stylist. Surprise! He looked like a little old barber from Queens, with his white hair slicked back, scruff on the face, the guy in the little shop on the corner with the swirly pole outside, and that everyone knows and his name is Nick or Sal or something Italian. I was waiting for him to say, "Take a seat, Sally will be right with you." Instead, he said, "Come on over." And I had second thoughts and panicked and almost fled. What was this guy going to know about a modern lady's hair?? Calm down, it's long hair. He can't screw up, I thought. So I sat in the chair, and he cut my hair dry instead of wet, and he combed it with the tiniest comb ever and the pain of the knots going through that tiny comb was almost more than I could take. I asked him for long layers, don't take too much off! (please) and I asked him to cut my bangs back into my hair because they had grown out. But not too short, because right before my sister's wedding, the guy at my normal, expensive salon cut my bangs so short I looked like a second grader who mistakenly got a hold of the scissors and cut her own hair and had to wear it like that for weeks with her mom saying "See? I told you so." And I have pictures of it to last a lifetime. Yippee.

Anyway, the old guy got it done. $14 bucks. It was still dry so I couldn't tell how it was going to really look until I got home and washed it and styled it my own way. I threw it back up into a ponytail and headed for CVS. I picked out one of my old neutralish-reddish brown Natural Instincts, headed home and finished the job. Boy the smell brought back memories.

I chose to do this not because it was cheaper, although that helped, but because I feel like I don't have time anymore to spend 4 or 5 hours in a hair salon. Plus, I wanted to get in right away, not in two weeks, when they can fit me in. Maybe I am completely ghetto now, but I swear to you, after dying, drying and styling, this was one of my best haircuts ever!!!! I'm busting! I thought for sure I would come home and post about another salon disaster, like my many before, when I'm sitting in the chair steaming and thinking "surely she's not going to leave it like this!!!" But not this time!! And not that I will always go this route, but what a great quick-fix. I just cannot believe what a little old man and a box of dye can do for my self esteem.

Ack! We stole the missal!!

We didn't really. We are just borrowing it until next weekend apparently. Ooh, or maybe I can give it back this week at Ash Wednesday. Anyway, we were at mass tonight with Poops, who for some reason was just not cooperating despite being fully fed and napped, so I am left to sit there and pray for patience. He kept wanting to hold the missal (the book with all the readings in it). So we let him, until he tried to rip and/or eat the pages, and then we took it away. Somehow, it fell into the diaper bag and we left with it! I didn't find it until after church, when we pulled up to the grocery store just so I could run in and run out for a pizza crust because I was making my famous pizza with fresh mozzarella and basil (love it!). Now, right before I ran in, we pulled up to the front of the store, I got out and grabbed the bag that Evan had put in the back of the car, but someone was behind us waiting, so I got all frazzled trying to hurry because they obviously wanted to get around us, and that's when I discovered the missal. Still frazzled after finding out we took the book from church (sinners!!!), I ran into the store, and my bag hits a wine display and I end up knocking over a bottle of wine! It crashes to the floor, and of course it's one of those seconds that the whole store stops and looks at you, and I raise my hand and yell loudly, "I did it!" Just so no one would think I was going to break a bottle of wine and run without taking responsibility. A worker acknowledged me and told me not to worry about it, and for the next five minutes as I am gathering the rest of what I went in for, I hear over the loudspeaker "Wine spill in Produce!!" And I hear customers and employees cackling about someone spilling the wine in produce every time the loudspeaker goes off. Come to think of it, there's no connection between lifting the missal and the spilling of wine, is there? It was an accident!!

Someone's having their post-child identity crisis...

Is it too early for a Wordless Wednesday?

Green Peeps and a Freeze Warning

Happy Friday! I just found out the best thing ever. Green Peeps have been added to the Peep line-up, just in time for St. Patty's Day!!! Being an O'Sullivan now, I get to claim rights to this fun Irish-fest, even though I'm not a drop of Irish. But isn't everyone a little Irish on St. Patty's Day? Anyway, in this life, you are either a Peep-lover or a Peep-hater. And I, my friends, am a Peep-lover. So that brings me to a new thing here on the blog that I'd like to call the Friday Peep Poll. Which one are you?

The second best wonderful news is that we're having a Freeze Warning in Florida! Sweet!! This is not sarcasm, either. I have winter-envy in the worst way. I won't pretend that our piddly little freeze warning is even remotely comparable to the massive snowpiles my friends in the north are experiencing. And you all probably want to kick me. But I love the cold weather! Love it love it love it! I love winter, I love snow, I love driving on the icy roads putting my 4 wheel drive to use, I love sweaters, hats, gloves, cute coats, all of it! So for now, besides traveling to an icy destination, this is the closest I'm gonna get and I'll take it!

The Lizard

We have a new "friend" that visits us from time to time. I am not sure where he comes from or how he gets in or if it's the same one every time, but here he is in captivity.

Twice, about two weeks apart, I've found him underneath a giant stuffed frog on the floor near the baby's crib. It was so odd he chose the frog to hide under twice, that I really had thought he was longing to return to the "mother ship".

But this time, I found him jumping off a box of wipes I had next to the changing table. I don't know what it means to have this lizard in the baby's room. Does it mean we have an influx of lizards around our yard and that's why they keep popping up inside our house? We have a crack somewhere in the baby's room that we have to plug up? Or even worse, are there spiders somewhere that the lizards are chasing for food? (shudder)

After the third invasion, I realize I now have capturing these quick little buggers down to a science. I chase him around and through the bookcase and eventually coerce him into a little jar and quickly put the lid on it. Then I release him back out the front door. The first encounter took about a 1/2 hour. Now I'm down to 5 minutes. These guys are harmless, and I'm not too worried, but I'd be even less worried if it was another room in the house they chose to frequent, and not the nursery. But the nursery is a frog-slash-pond theme, and I can't help but wonder if these little lizard guys know that.

The Icing on the Cake and a V-Day Recap (Scroll down for Thursday Thirteen)

First, I can tell you right now which recipe off Martha Stewart to steer clear from. Doesn't it just look scrumptious though? It was too yummy-looking not to try. I was going for the "Conversation Heart" theme for our V-Day dinner. It didn't quite work out as I planned. By the end of it all, I was a frazzled, sweaty mess.

The menu: shrimp cocktail, caesar salad, steamed snow crab legs, baked potato. The wine, riesling. And finally, these little personal conversation heart cakes. The cake part was, well, a piece of cake. It was red velvet and it was easy, you spread the batter out on the cookie sheet, bake it, then cut out hearts using heart-shaped cookie cutters. You put two hearts on top of each other, and ice them. Sounds easy enough. Then draw on them your little message. So here's why the unraveling of the day all came down to the cake. I am the type to plan out a dinner and all of the fixins and with a baby crawling around me and emptying out all the cabinets when I cook and also having to fit a shower in there somewhere and get ready and clean up the house, I must plan out each hour in my head so that dinner can be perfect, on a beautiful table, all yummy and done when my husband gets home. I know I don't have to do this because it's 2007 and women are no longer required to have dinner hot on the table when the man gets home. But I like to. I feel like if I'm going to stay home, I will run the house like it is my job and do the best I can out of it, not necessarily out of duty, but out of principle. Work ethic, even. If you're going to do something, do it well. I feel somewhat in control and successful if the baby is napped, fed and clean, and happy, and the house is clean, the fridge is full, the papers are organized, and dinner is on the table. But this icing was the death of me.

Started cake at 1 pm, after going to the gym in the morning and going to the store to get all of the ingredients and showering. Cake does well. Begin icing. Baby wakes up from nap during icing. The process of making the icing turns to crap after approximately one hour. Starting to get sweaty. Baby fussy and hungry. Icing is all runny and gross. Dump it. Start over, paying extra special deliberate attention to every tiny detail, and if it doesn't come out, too bad, I have no more ingredients left. This sucker used up all my sugar and butter! Another hour. Icing is sub-par. Looks clear rather than white. Does not spread well. Stick in freezer. Take it out. Still crap. Look at clock. 4:30!!!!! Husband will be home in a 1/2 hour. House a disaster, table not set, hair not dried, makeup not on, food not cooked, disaster disaster disaster!!! Valentine's Day extravaganza unraveling before my eyes! Use store-bought icing instead. That will have to do. Scramble to do the rest. Husband walks in while cooking dinner. Not bad. Anyway, thank goodness, V-Day isn't about the cake, or the food, or the beautiful roses he sent me during my icing disaster, although that was a lovely surprise. It's about this:

And this:

By the way, here's the final product. I guess it's not that bad. We ate the one that said "Kiss Me". Anyway, I still don't know where the icing went wrong and it kills me because it was delicious! I can just imagine what the cake would have tasted like if it worked. Oh well.

It's all about the love, right?

Thursday Thirteen #18

I know when all the "smug marrieds" were cuddling up and smooching on Valentine's Day, my sister was missing her husband. He's a Marine with the 1/6 and he's in Iraq right now, but like always, she's keeping it together with the poise and grace that she tackles everything with and that's why this Thursday Thirteen is dedicated to her. (Visit her at "Old Man Hancock", her blog dedicated to her husband's deployment. Give her your prayers and well-wishes!)

13 Reasons My Marine-Wife Sister is a Pillar of Strength

1. She spends every day, every hour, living her life to the fullest, supporting her husband back home, and not dwelling on every minute that he could be in danger.

2. Not only is she playing her biggest supporting role ever, she's working fulltime at a government job, getting her Master's degree at John's Hopkins, and going through the grueling process of home buying all by herself (she closes this month!) Who does all that, simultaneously??!! Is she crazy???

3. And she will probably get an A in the class, get a raise at her job, and still have time to decorate her new condo. This is how she is. Grace under pressure.

4. She organized a supply drive at her job where dozens of people volunteered their money, time and dozens of boxes of supplies for her Marine's unit.

5. She sends him packages of his favorite things all the time and always makes sure he knows she's thinking about him, even if he can't get to a phone for a week or two.

6. She sometimes has to go that long without talking to him! I don't know how she does it! My husband goes on a business trip for a week and I have to talk to him 2 or 3 times a day!

7. She's truly "taking care of business" at home. She does all the bills. She stays on top of all their finances and troubleshoots everything so that her husband does not have to have any added worries in the face of danger.

8. She is the better person when people talk ill about the war in front of her, full well knowing her husband is over there. She bites her tongue. She does not kick them. Although inside she is screaming. If you hate the war, that's ok, you can have an opinion, but please know there is very likely a soldier's family member within earshot of your rant and whatever you're saying will very likely make them cry when they go home and get behind closed doors.

9. She is the better person when hundreds of people march down the street in front of her apartment toward the Capitol in protest. It can't be easy living in Washington D.C. of all places when your husband is deployed in a war that's causing such a division in this country. People actually yell at her when she tells them her husband is over there! People can really be not nice!

10. She has a blog dedicated to her wonderful husband, where she keeps everyone updated with his deployment and his needs. He actually reads it when he can and leaves comments! His family, our family, and all of their friends always know they can keep in touch with him through her blog, if only for reading the latest news about him and his unit. She also posts a lot of helpful links on there, so if people get a wild hair to send things like phone cards and other supplies to the soldiers, they can use her blog as a resource.

11. She treats all the Marines of the 1/6 and their families as people she's related to. Because in a way, she is. She meets with their families and she visits wounded soldiers in Maryland just because.

12. When there's word of an extension, she calls everyone. When the deployment's shortened, she calls everyone. She worries about everyone in his family and how they will feel more than she worries about herself.

13. She never, ever, ever complains about the hardships of being the wife of a deployed soldier. It is something she just "does" without even so much as a peep, like it is her duty. I truly believe that behind every strong soldier, is an even stronger wife. That is my sister, AnnaMary.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

The Masquerade

This is where it all happened. The Masquerade. A Thursday night. 80's night. Almost 11 years ago. Me and the girls met up with some of our other college friends and in that group was a fella I didn't know. Quite cute. Wearing a blue Adidas tee-shirt with a white long-sleeved shirt under it. And a hat. I went up to him and pointed in his face because I was young and obnoxious and confident and wearing a cute dress with platform shoes. "Who are you?"


That's when I met Evan and I loved his Irish name, but it was his brown Doc Martins that won me over. A guy is only as cool as his shoes, I say, and those were my favorite. Plus he plays racquetball and I was huge into racquetball. The lights came on at the end of the night and you know how scary that is because there's a good chance you have that drunken make-up all over your face googly-eyed look that remains hidden as long as the lights are low so you pray they'll stay off. But they never do. And I may have had that look but I can't remember. All I remember is bolting to the bar to get a cocktail napkin and jotting my number down for him, which I never voluntarily did. My friends and I used to give out the number for the psychiatric hotline at our college campus.

So cute guy called. He picked me up at my dorm for our first date and it was great, a Japanese steakhouse and a comedy club where I ordered my first legal cocktail just after my 21st birthday. A strawberry daquiri with some whipped cream and a cherry on top. I don't normally get daquiris with whipped cream on them but that's how it came and it was my first real drink so I didn't care. We went on a second date. And a third. I was an intern at a TV station and I thought his last name would make a great TV name for me when I grew up and got a real job, not the one I had waitressing at Denny's. I recited it. Christie O'Sullivan, FOX News.

It's hard to believe now that I see The Masquerade in the daylight all closed up and quiet, that we used to stumble in and out of that wonderful club every Thursday night. 11 years ago. It's closed now and it feels like the end of an era. Walking by it, I could still hear the thumping of my favorite decade of music "You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round..."

I can still see the line of people wrapping around the building waiting to get in. I can still picture where I ordered my vodka and cranberry and the space of dance floor where my boyfriend and I would dance all night, forgetting that we came with friends, and forgetting that there were other people at the club. Dancing and laughing until those lights came on at the end of the night and we were shooshed out. And then everyone would gather outside, mulling around, trying to find their friends, their cars, and make their next move. Huge groups of people spilling out the doors, sweaty, make-up that's seen better days, aching feet, all of it. The smell of old cigarettes on my clothes and in my hair. It feels so long ago. He was a keeper and I knew it back then. And we dated for a while and then we didn't. Life happened. But it all led up to this time right now. A little ironic, maybe. Leaving a baby shower with some of those very college friends I went out with that night and walking by the very place where my fate was sealed 11 years ago, hand in hand with that same cute guy, heading home to see our baby. My Valentines.

A Dream

I woke up around 5 am Saturday morning at the tail end of the most wonderful, beautiful dream I've ever had. I made it to 40 weeks pregnant. And I was in labor and the doctor actually said to me these words, "He's big" and it was music to my ears. And we named him and yes it was another boy, and the whole experience was a wonderful, joyous experience just as it should be. For just a minute after I woke up, I wallowed in this wonderfulness and thanked God because for those moments I was at peace. Even if some day I have a second child and the pregnancy goes just as the first did with the complications of high blood pressure and pre-eclampsia, at least for one second in life I felt what it was to have a pregnancy and labor that was joyous and happy with happy tears. I will always treasure the experience of the first pregnancy of course, and my little tiny baby that made his way into the world and turned out perfect, but I will always wish his entrance was a little less bumpy and scary. A girl can always dream.

Mach 5 Poop Emergency

The camera is back! I'm pooped tonight but here's a pic just because I can. It's been two weeks! I've had withdrawls! Anyway, Poops helped Aunt Kate make some lasagna tonight, looking like a tiny boy in a big sea of tile. This is just mere minutes before I picked him up, took him to the living room and put him on the floor, subsequently discovering mysterious substance that has crept all the way up his back and spread to his clothes and mine, and when whisked away to get changed spread nastily all over the changing table, requiring a butt rinse and a complete wardrobe change. What am I feeding this boy to warrant such attacks? I know, it's gross. But if I have to go through it, I'm taking you with me.

The Mushroom

I swear, Irony loves me. The only thing I hate more than the banana is the mushroom. Last week, I wrote about being ensconced in banana. So it's only fitting the the mushroom would take a swing at me. My husband and I went out last night for our usual "date night." We didn't make a plan ahead of time, so we spent a half hour driving up and down the highway looking for a place to eat. We finally settled on Arigato, a Japanese steakhouse where the chefs cook your food in the middle of a big table and set big fires and toss shrimp tails into their chef hats. A little expensive, but what the hey. We sat down at our table alongside six other strangers and ordered drinks. I got a lovely fruity fun drink called a Tokyo Rose. It had a cherry on top. We went around the table and ordered, and of course I ordered my lovely filet dinner because I always get the same thing, and I ordered it, as usual, without mushrooms.

Ten minutes later, a giant bowl of raw mushrooms walks up with a waitress behind it. "Someone order an appetizer of mushrooms?"

I lost it. It was one time that I wished I had my camera because the ridiculous size of this "mushroom appetizer" which who knew people even ordered a giant bowl of mushrooms?? was beyond imagination. The giant bowl of mushrooms is not on the menu. I was hysterically laughing and I finally took a breath to tell the waitress who was looking at me like I was crazy that I ordered my dinner withOUT mushrooms, did that count? And neither she, nor I, could figure out where the breakdown in translation occurred, because it was actually written down that I wanted my food without mushrooms. So it only remains for me to deduce that the giant mushroom bowl was sent to me from the world of Karma or Irony, as a joke, and they're over there yukking it up in the kitchen.

The Anti-Valentine's Day

I rate the "single" Valentine's Day about the same as New Year's Eve. It's a lot of hype usually flanked by a side of disappointment and I am glad that I no longer have to experience them. Examples: Valentine's Day follows recent break-up so I'm left to wallow in a bottle of wine and self-pity while watching When Harry Met Sally. New romance begins week before Valentine's Day and gift-giving situation is awkward on both sides, which leads to an over-examination of the gift-giving, which could ultimately result in relationship demise, especially if gifts are too extravagant (stalker) or too loving (a love poem???-I've only known you for a week!!!). Or of course, the classics: boyfriend shows up drunk. Not spending Valentine's Day with the one you really want to spend Valentine's Day with. Spending Valentine's Day with someone you love, but doesn't love you back. Sigh.

So in my many single years, I developed an immunity to the (airquote) "holiday" and stopped caring about whether or not I had a Valentine. (I would like to preface this by saying "married Valentine's Days" are a whole different ballgame. I don't wince at the word "Valentine" because I have a guaranteed Valentine, and there's no pressure, and I'm not wishing I could spend it with someone else and the gift really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I know I will at least get a sweet card and some kisses. Or if my husband's reading this, the diamond ring on the Kay's Jewelry Store commercials.) So, my favorite "single" Valentine's Day was completely and utterly man-less which could very well have been a bust, but it turned out to be the best. I was living in New York City and working at one of the news channels. One of my best girl friends (and co-worker) and I saw Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, and we, with no dates or prospects thereof, decided to take matters into our own hands, and do the anti-Valentine's Day and spend it with each other. In fact I think someone even asked her out a couple days before, but she said no, she has a date! Haha! Anyway, we both took the day off work, to which our boss raised an eyebrow. We went to a day-spa. Got massages. Went home and got all dolled up. Went a wonderful martini bar downstairs and got blitzed off apple martinis. Followed by a great restaurant we made reservations at called "First", at the corner of First Street and First Avenue. More cocktails. Yummy food. Two friends in a sea of couples everywhere you look. But that was ok with us. More than ok, really. The Anti-Valentine's Day was truly liberating. It turned into one of those pivotal moments in my life where I realized I didn't need a man to complete me. It would be nice to have one. But I didn't need one. Dating was even easier after that because I knew I could be as happy un-attached, as I was attached. It also made dumping crap guys easier. A man should be the "fries" to your "burger". Not the burger. That's what I always say. So that, my friends, is my favorite single-lady Valentine's Day. What's yours?

Thursday Thirteen #17-It's a love fest!

OOOOh it's almost V-Day and in the spirit, here are 13 of my favorite looooooove stories. Ooh La La! (don't forget to partake in a heart-shaped Peep!)

An UBER-SAPPY THURSDAY THIRTEEN!

1. Romeo and Juliet. The play, of course. But I also love love love the Olivia Hussey movie version but NOT the Leo/Claire Daines version which is just the littlest bit over the top to me.

2. When Harry Met Sally. Can quote every single line to this movie, but who can't really! Love it! People are always crossing rooms to talk to Maxine!

3. The Notebook. I have to watch this sparingly because I fill my crying quota for the year with this one. It's just so beautiful! Tear.

4. 50 First Dates. I can watch this over and over and over and over and over and over.

5. Pride and Prejudice. The book is so so good! Also love the Colin Firth movie version. To quote Meg Ryan, "I am always in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are really going to get together. Read it. I know you'll love it."

6. Which brings me to You've Got Mail. Back when the VCR was popular, I bought the tape and didn't know until I got home that I got the Spanish subtitle version which was annoying.

7. Sweet Home Alabama. I love Reese Witherspoon and that Josh guy. This movie reminds me of me a little, when I lived in New York and my boyfriend (now husband) lived in Florida and I didn't know if I wanted to move back to the smalltime (even though the city I live in really isn't that small). But I did.

8. That Touch of Mink. Cary Grant and Doris Day. This is the movie that made me fall in love with old movies.

9. An Affair to Remember. I have a little thing for Cary Grant. I guess it started with the previous movie.

10. Jersey Girl. Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler. You cry, you laugh, you cry again. Such a rollercoaster! I love it!

11. Ghost. I cried so hard into my sofa pillow when I first saw this movie ages and ages ago when Patrick Swayze peeked through the heaven-lights. Sob!!!

12. Moulin Rouge. Oy I'm seeing a pattern here. I have sobbed at this one too. Haha! But really, even if I'm still not sure if Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor can sing, I believe I still really love the song "Come What May". "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and to be loved in return."

13. Titanic. One of my favorites of all time. I wish Jack didn't have to die! Why! Why! Why!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

I Think I'm Crazy

Wow. For the rest of my kid's childhood and whenever I think I am crazy, like yesterday, I can just think, well, it's not so bad, I could be an astronaut wearing diapers driving cross country to kill (hurt? scare?) a woman who likes the man I like (even though of course I am married with child).

I guess I knew what would happen if Poops missed an afternoon nap. I even told my best friend yesterday. Oh, if he's up from now until bedtime? That's just crazy talk! I'm sure he'll fall asleep. 3 hours and 1 screaming baby later, it never happened. Without sleep, I can't even recognize this baby. He's not happy sitting. Crawling. Playing. Too tired to fall asleep. There is screaming and wailing and rubbing eyes but no sleeping. Put him down? Screaming harder. Pick him up. Put him down. Screaming. Pick him up. Finally falls asleep. It's 4:30pm. Ahhhh. I did it.

Husband calls at 4:31 when getting off work and I hear my phone. I'm looking around. That's funny, it sounds like the ring is coming through the monitor. (realize here that I left my phone in the baby's room). Sh*t!!! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course, the slow scream begins as baby gets scared, then wailing occurs and madness ensues. Conversation with husband goes like this:

Husband: I'm off, I'm going to go across the street and have a beer.
Me: Uh huh. (all I can hear is wailing)
Husband: So remember (so-and-so name here?) You met him at the Christmas party? Well... (yada yada starts telling story but all I can hear is wailing).
Me: (nerves frayed) I can't talk right now see you later! (click.)

Phone rings several times, but cannot answer due to comforting scared non-sleeping baby. I finally answer.

Husband: I'm on my way home.

Love this man.

He comes home, and crying fussy baby lasts the duration of the evening until 8, bedtime, when he becomes joyously happy and bouncing. (???????!!!!!!!!). He very rarely has days like this. Actually, he never does. He's predictable. As long as he's fed and napped and dry, he's very happy. But when he does, I am a frayed bag of nerves and my patience wears thin and I feel like crying and I feel like the worst mother in the world. And I pray for more patience. But I swear it doesn't come soon enough. Ever have these days? (I'm sure you have.) Where do you get more patience?

Stating the Obvious Rule #6

Dry cat food is not on the pediatrician-approved finger-food list.

Wait what just happened!!

I look over and BOOM there he is just standing there like he's been doing it all his life. I didn't even see the process which is usually riddled with a series of grunts and which usually only gets him to his knees. What is happening here, where is the time going??? Eventually he gets cocky, using one arm to stabilize, the other hanging onto a bottle and flailing it around like he's a pro on a mechanical horse. Sheesh.

That sounds about right!

Inspired by Skittles at Skittles' Place, I found this little ditty. Do try it!

You Are Smores

Unusual and unconventional, you make your strange ways work for you. You've got personality - no one's denying that!

What Dessert Are You Most Like?

New Sneakers

There is something about the stark whiteness of brand spankin' new white sneakers that brings me back to the time in childhood when it was dorky to wear your bright new white sneakers to school and I remember I could not wait until they turned just that one tiny shade of not-so-white so they looked almost normal and not like tiny laced up spotlights shining through the hallway. Now I am 31. And I still feel this way. When I walked into the gym with my new brighty-whities this week, the whole gym stopped, and it got quiet except for the clang of a dumbbell, the dance music turned off, and there I was, standing in the open door with my beams of light on my feet shining up toward the heavens. Despite the fact that I go to the gym regularly, I all of a sudden felt like this was my first day there with my shiny new sneakers and everyone knew it. Am I this self-conscious?

The $24 Lip Gloss

Robin, you'll love this one! (Boy I was in such a drought for things to write, but the blog just seems to be writing itself!)


I cannot go another day without writing something about my new $24 lip gloss. For me, that's pricey. I'm an Almay/slash/Neutragena make-up girl, with a side of Cover Girl lipstick. So I don't usually do anything more than 10 bucks, I don't even really know why. I certainly wouldn't mind a little Clinique in my makeup bag, but I guess I'm the type to stick with what works. When I find a good color, I'm a lifer. The cost of experimenting and having orange-face or 80's lipstick face all day is just too high for me. So on my recent trip to see my sister in Washington D.C., we stopped into Sephora, which I lovvvvve, and browsed around. Of course, Sephora always gives me a headache because of all the fragrances wafting in at me at once, but I can get over it quickly when I find wonderful little treasures like my $24 lip gloss. It's called "Pout".

It promises to restore collagen and give that plumped up, "just been stung by a bee" look. And when I put it on, it tingled and I felt absolutely luxurious! I was beautiful and everyone was looking at me like "wow! she's hot!" and it was all thanks to this lip gloss! OK that's not really what happened, but I did feel that way, at least until the tingle wore off and I re-applied and felt like that all over again. So, did I look like Angelina Jolie after one application? Or even after two? Well, no. But did I feel like Angelina Jolie? I sure did! So did my sister and my mother. So, I'm giving this three solid Valentine Peeps out of four, because it may not actually plump you up, but that don't mean nothin when you got this shiny tingly lovely gloss on your face and you're feelin fabulous. Even in jeans and a tee-shirt. So I'll take it. Thank you, Pout.

A different world

Getting that stinky nasty phone call really made me think. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, scroll down and read the previous post). Is it just getting older that makes people more paranoid? Am I just more aware and less naive now? Or is this really a different world we live in? Probably, it's all three.

I get a lot of door-to-door solicitors in my neighborhood, which as a stay at home mom, drives me batty. Why on earth would I open the door to a stranger, especially if I have a baby inside? I've worked in news. I know what happens when the little woman all by herself open doors to complete strangers. It happens all the time. So when there's a knock, I panic because maybe they can hear that I really am in here. Or maybe they hear the TV. Maybe they won't go away? Maybe they'll go around the house and look in the back and see me? So I do that "stiff as a board" thing and stay completely still and do not move. Then I peek around the corner and venture toward the peep-hole in the door, quietly, so that the floorboards don't creak. And I peek. And usually by then the person is gone. But then I won't go outside for a while because I don't want them to see me. Last week, I saw one standing outside as I was pulling up in the car but I went right by my house and drove around for a while until the guy got up the block. I would never answer the door! Everything is a scam these days and not only is it dangerous to answer the door, but why on earth would I give them money, too? I am quite surprised that there is still a market for door-to-door sales, but I guess that there must be, and people must still be answering the door. So I guess I do believe it is a different world, because I no longer trust that someone knocking at my door will always have kind intentions. The same goes for phone solicitors, and it makes me angry that the very people who warn against giving out personal information over the phone, cops and state troopers, call people's homes asking for donations. I recently told a young man representing the state troopers over the phone, "You do know that officers warn against giving out personal information, right? You could be anyone, anywhere. How do I know you're with the state troopers?" Of course, he says yes, he's aware. And then I said, well send me the information because I'm not giving you information over the phone. And then I realized I'd be giving him my address so I said "Nevermind!" and in a panic, hung up. There are people who leave their business cards on my door for services like "tree removals" and there is no business license number on the card, and to them I say "phooey!!" That has phony contractor and scam written all over it!!! I guess I am on such a soapbox because I feel like I have to be defensive, and untrusting and in turn that makes me feel sad that the world is like this now, and angry and violated, because I feel like this type of thing is infiltrating my happy little life. So there.

Anyway, I did a reverse-phone-number search on the number that popped up from my obscene caller, does he not know that people have caller id? And I found a name and address and phone number, and the works! I have a mind to publish it all online! But I won't. It was probably just a prank and I was random. But you never know, these days, and I say "these days" because I do believe things are different now and that stinks. Maybe it was always like that and I was just not aware of it.

Obscene Phone Call

My voicemail has been violated! There is a disgusting man-voice on it, and I don't know who it is, or why he chose to target my voicemail. And I will state, for the record, that you, disgusting man-voice, will not feed into my news-producer-worst-case-scenario-paranoia! I will not let you! That being said, this is what happened. It's approaching half-time, we're getting ready to watch Prince do his thing and I'm hoping he's wearing waterproof mascara because it's pouring in Miami and I have a fear for Prince looking like Tammy Faye. Poops has just fallen asleep on my shoulder, he's had a fever on and off for two days so being back from my little anniversary tet-a-tet with husband, I am relishing in my mom moment. In fact, I don't answer my phone when I see my mom and sister's numbers pop up, or the random unidentifiable phone number that pops up following theirs. I get one voicemail. I listen to it. It's not my mom or sister. It's some guy and at first I think his voice is familiar, but then I'm sure it is not. And it takes a turn for the worse. This man may have well been breathing heavily because that's the same smarmy greasy yucky feeling I got after listening to his message, and I won't go into detail, but he's doing something -ahem- to himself, which I am thinking now in hindsight actually, is impossible to do to one's self, but okay. Whatever. Whoever he is was compelled enough to leave dirty messages on random people's phones during the Super Bowl. Wasn't he watching it?? Wasn't everyone? Anyway, now my voicemail is violated by his pervy words and I have to shower after listening to it.

All for love

I, hater of all things banana, the taste of it, the smell of it, the texture (as Goldmember would say), find myself of all things, ensconced in banana. The odor smothering me like a Boy Scout putting out a fire. I have just changed out of my attire coated in a lovely banana smear. I have just cleaned a kitchen full of banana mush. And a boy with a banana film. It's out of love that I continue to buy them for little boy who loves them more than anything in the world. I mean, who wouldn't? They're the most convenient fruit in the world! Sadly, I wouldn't. After an unfortunate childhood banana incident, I am ruined forever. But being part Native American, and too overwhelmed by guilt to throw out the bananas that are in a current state of demise (that whole use every part of the animal thing), I have done gone and made banana bread and banana crumb cake, which I suspect would be good if I liked bananas. But I don't like bananas. And every part of my world is at this very moment filled with banana. I am witnessing the Christie Bizarro world. And this is Bizarro-Christie. If you would have said, Christie, in 10 years, you will not only be buying bananas, you will be making breads with them and filling up your home with the odor of bananas and getting bananas all over your hands and clothes and child, I'd have scoffed at the very thought! Yet here I am. Doing that very thing. Oh what we do for love. Now, please excuse me while I open the windows and gag some more.

Read more about stories of lovvvvvve: at Scribbit.