Money down the hose

I don't wear slacks to work. I don't like the way I look dressed in "slacks." What a stupid name for a piece of clothing, really.

I wear a skirt to work every day, normally with "tan" colored hose (which is so ironic since I've never even begun to have a tan on my legs in my entire life and I never intend to).

I've been working in the professional world for (gasp!) 19 years now. Ladies, are you with me here--I don't think I even want to begin to think how much money I have spent over the years on hose.

Literally thousands of pairs of hose. Run and holey eventually, every one of them, until I couldn't wear them any longer and pretend that I didn't know I had a run.

I buy No Nonsense hose, or Hanes, so I've spent much less money over the years on hose than other women I know. I've bought regular hose and control top hose and even thigh high hose (way back when) by the dozens and dozens.

Right now, I'm typing this in our bedroom, wearing a cozy wool sweater with a hole in the elbow, that I originally bought for my trousseau (that's what your honeymoon wardrobe is called, FYI). Since our 10th wedding anniversary is coming up in three weeks, you can do the math.

If I could buy a pair of hose that would last a fraction as long----heck, if I could invent a pair of hose that would last a fraction as long, I'd be rich.

Rich, rich, I tell you, beyond my wildest dreams. My wildest dream about hose, that is.

Performance anxiety

Last night, Greg was in the basement on the computer. The girls and I went upstairs at their bedtime and did the normal routine, then I read a very long version of Sleeping Beauty and they got into their beds about 15 minutes later than usual.

I went back down to the living room and started watching "Miami Ink," the show on the Discovery Channel about a tattoo shop, which I mostly watch (intermittently) because I can't believe what things people choose to have permanently imprinted on their bodies.

About five minutes later, Allie called me. I trucked upstairs and asked, from the doorway, what she wanted. She said, Mommy, we forgot to do my homework.

Now that she's in first grade, she has some homework almost every night. It usually takes 10-20 minutes to complete and she was right, we'd forgotten to do that night's worksheet.

I reassured her that we would start on her homework as soon as she got up in the morning and that we'd have plenty of time to get it done. The punishment, apparently, for coming to school without your homework done is that you have to miss first recess to complete it.

I said I'd go downstairs, get out the worksheet, read it, and be ready to help her get it done as soon as she woke up. She said OK and laid down again.

True to my word, I went downstairs and got out the worksheet to review what she had to do. I was still holding it on the couch when I heard her crying upstairs.

I went back up there and she was sobbing like her first boyfriend had just broken her heart. Crying her eyes out. She said she couldn't sleep because she was worried about not getting her homework done and missing recess.

I turned on her light and we spent the next 10 minutes completing her worksheet. As soon as we were finished, the poor girl relaxed onto the pillows, turned onto her side, and said goodnight.

She told me today she fell asleep in two minutes, since she knew she wasn't going to have to miss recess.

Allie is 6 1/2. Isn't this sad? What happened to a carefree childhood, people!

Seasonal allergies

There are things about almost every season of the year that I very much dislike.

I don't like being cold in the winter and I don't like snow very much (except to look at and only if I have sunglasses) and I don't like ice and I don't like my car being filthy because of slushchunks and fizzback (ask my sister Pam).

I don't like summer because I don't like very hot weather and I don't like the sun very much (I burn very easily) and I don't like BUGS (especially mosquitos, but I'm also freaked out about ticks and Lyme disease).

I don't like autumn because it's a depressing time of year, everything dying and you know it's only going to get colder and it starts getting dark so early in the evening and you have to start wearing socks and shoes again (I'm big on going barefoot or wearing sandals).

My favorite season is spring (you knew there had to be one season I liked, right?). The days are getting longer and the grass is getting green and there's spring flowers (my absolute favorite flowers) and it's getting warmer and the sunlight just seems better.

What's your favorite season?

Seasons changing

Autumn is almost here. How do I know?

I looked at a calendar!

Ha ha ha! I kill myself.

Dates well documented here

Do we really need to have seven calendars in the house, with six of them within ten feet of each other?

Umm, I didn't think so.

Nonetheless, when Allie had her very first homework assignment ever tonight, she was required to count the calendars in the house and use tally marks to record each one. Then she had to total the marks and sure enough, it came to seven.

Believe it or not, we have four calendars just on the bulletin board in the mudroom. There's the cute one Allie made last week, where she wrote all of the numbers herself and the 6 in 26 is backwards (hazard of being a lefty, or of being a first-grader).

There's the monthly one the school gave us, so we can look at the art that students produced that the school district felt was worthy of duplication. There's the consolidated one for the entire school year, so we can see the multitude of days that we're going to have to pay for full-day daycare instead of just after school care.

And there's the school daily lunch calendar, so we can see if it's a hot lunch day or a turkey sandwich day with pink chips (those are Sun Chips, which were in a pink bag because of a breast cancer benefit once and now they're forever known as pink chips), carrots that she won't eat, and raisins or mandarin oranges or chunk pears.

Plus the calendar in the checkbook in my purse, and the Onion newspaper page-a-day calendar (which often has profanity on it, so if Allie ever decides to start reading it, it's going far, far away).

The only other calendar in the house is the Hello Kitty calendar on the wall upstairs in Allie's room.

I think we're more than covered. Anyone wanna schedule an appointment or something?

Me and bugs

If you know me, you might look at the time this post was entered and think, "wow, that's unusual, for Deb to be putting up a new post at 12:30 at night." Yeah, I think so too.

The reason I'm awake is that I feel like I want to claw my skin off.

Friday night, the girls and I went to play outside at about 6:30 p.m. Now we live in Wisconsin, where after about 7:30 or so, you can expect to be attacked by mosquitos if you're in the grass or shade or near water.

It wasn't after 7:30 and we were in the driveway, but that didn't seem to make a difference. We were making chalk drawings and we were all being ATTACKED by little swarming mosquitos.

It got so bad that I made the girls stop playing so we could go in. Despite vocal protests from them, I might add.

We went into the house and later, I was reading a couple of books to the girls when suddenly, I also felt like I wanted to claw my skin off.

I can't ever remember feeling that way with mosquito bites. I felt like my ankles (where I have most of my 14 or so bites) were on fire. I rushed maniacally through the rest of the book so I could rush upstairs and get my itch gel. Julia has about 3 bites and Allie has about 5.

I've been exceeding the recommended dosage of itch gel since. Tonight, I went to bed (about 2 hours ago) after putting on a fresh coat, but I guess the movement of my ankles in the sheets prematurely wore off the medicine.

Thus my wanting to claw my skin off again. Oh my god.

I hate mosquitos so bad right now. If I had a mosquito in front of me and I had access to tools of torture, I'd be getting so medieval on it's ass . . . I am feeling very violent right now.

Violent, and wide awake. Goddammit.

A Testimonial

Who is my husband, Greg Lee, who turns 40 years of age tomorrow? He is all of these and a whole bunch more. He is truly a Renaissance man.

Plays ukulele
Plays guitar
Plays drums
Fixes lawnmowers
Fixes snowblowers
Fixes cars
Computer whiz
Excellent and adventuresome chef
Cleans house
Rides a motorcycle
Writes anything and writes it well
Creative in marketing and business
Does drywall
Does plumbing
Does artistic painting
Does wall/house painting/sanding/spackling
Irons clothes better than I do
Sews better than I do
Cuts our daughters' bangs
Changes diapers
Feeds and burps babies (sometimes at his cost-urp!)
Bathes babies
Cleans up cat and child puke
Plays tennis
Plays backgammon
Killer Monopoly player
Adventurous eater
Rides a bicycle
Drives a stick shift
Electronics savant
Plays keyboards
Fearless hedge trimmer
Connoisseur of pens
TIVO master
Grill master
Excellent fire starter/builder
Travel dreamer
HTML pro
Slip and slide pusher
Tent camper
Cat box cleaner
Cat washer
Cat anal glad expressor (don't ask)
Cat brusher
Goldfish bowl cleaner
Furniture assembler
Carpet spot cleaner
Adept business traveler
Hotel connoisseur
Airport master
U-Haul driver
Pool table mover
Birthday cake baker and decorator
Gift shopper extraordinaire
Nurse
Tile setter
Electrician
Deck builder
Swimmer and diver
Pool maintenance person
Movie maven
Romantic husband
Amazing father

I love him dearly. Happy 40th Birthday on September 14, honey!

Remembering

When the September 11th attacks started, Greg was on an airplane, on his way from Madison, Wisconsin to Denver, Colorado for a trade show.

I was sitting at my desk when a co-worker walked by and said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. She said they thought it was a small private plane, and beyond a thought of, oh, that's terrible, none of us thought much more about it.

Then someone else came to my department and said another plane had hit the other tower and we all knew.

I went into the conference room, where we have a TV, and tried to get a local channel without the benefit of an antenna or cable TV. We could see snowy footage of the towers burning on every channel.

I went to the internet and looked up Greg's flight information. I checked it repeatedly and it said, "in flight" each time, until finally it said he had landed in Denver.

My mom called, crying, and I told her with confidence that the website said he was on the ground in Denver and that I'd call her as soon as I heard from him.

About an endless hour later, Greg called. He said he was OK and in Lincoln, Nebraska. I said, no, you're not, you're in Denver! He said he was in the airport in Lincoln and that he'd been watching the footage on TVs in an airport bar.

He said the flight seemed normal until the pilot came on the intercom and said they were putting down immediately. The pilot said there wasn't a problem with the plane, but wouldn't say anything else until they were on the ground. Then he told them.

Greg ended up spending three days in Lincoln, taken care of by airline personnel and the Red Cross. He couldn't find a way home. Amtrak doesn't run near Lincoln, all of the rental cars were gone, and there were no flights, obviously.

On the morning of September 14, his birthday, I opened the morning paper and read a story about the airline passengers who were stranded in Madison. They were renting U-Haul trucks and driving them home. Of course, U-Haul does one-way rentals all the time!

I called Greg's hotel room and left a message. I didn't hear back from him until about 9:30, when he called to tell me he was just over the border into Iowa. He drove a 24-foot rental truck from Lincoln to our home, completely empty except for him and his one suitcase in the front.

But he was home. So many others weren't and wouldn't ever be again. We will never forget.

Things I Can't Believe I Didn't Eat as a Child That Are Really Good, And Wasn't I Stupid (But I Don't Need You Saying So)

We've been at my parents' this weekend, but we're home now, back to our own bed. Yes, I know that statement means that we're old.

Regardless, here's the list as promoted above, in no particular order:

grilled cheese sandwiches
scrambled eggs
french toast
banana bread
french onion soup
tomato sauce
oatmeal cookies
Italian dressing
stuffing
chicken salad sandwiches (still not crazy about those, but I've eaten them)
canteloupe
pumpkin pie
gravy
salsa
rice
fish in any form, other than fish sticks
spinach leaves in salad
taco meat
mushroom soup
cherries (I still really only like these in pie)
brocolli
alfalfa sprouts
crabmeat stuffed into anything
shrimp

Don't you all pity my poor mother now? What she went through, trying to get me to eat. My husband still puts up with a lot of frustration, trying to cook things that are somewhat interesting to him that I will eat, but I really have come a long way.

For a good number of the above foods, I can distinctly remember when I ate these foods for the first time and liked them. I can also distinctly remember when my mom tried to get me to eat rice for the first time. It was one of those, "you're staying at the table until you eat that spoonful" nights. Never ate the rice, nope, not until I was about 25.