It's gonna be a new year

It's New Year's Eve, 9 p.m., and we're home. There's laundry going in the dryer, I just yelled at the girls for the third time to go to sleep, and Greg has been upstairs for the last two hours on the other computer. In other words, it's a pretty normal weeknight. I have no desire to go out to "celebrate" the end of 2007. It was a good year--we were all relatively healthy (except for some dental stuff for Allie and me), Greg and I got to travel to Ireland (thanks again, Mom and Dad, for babysitting), and the girls grew at an exponential rate.

I started thinking of the negative things that happened this year to us and to our families, but really, why dwell on all of that. Some stuff happened, some of it was pretty bad, most of it just kind of sucked, and hopefully things will be better next year. I'm an optimistic person anyway, so I'm looking forward to 2008.

2008 will be the year that Julia starts kindergarten (be still, my heart). I can't think of anything else I can anticipate for next year that will change our family as profoundly as our little one heading off to school. I think she's going to be ready. I don't think I am going to be. Thank goodness it's over 8 months away.

Yep, 2008 can take one day at a time to come. I hope it's a happy year for us, and for all of you. Happy New Year!

Lame game

Go ahead, guess what it's doing outside right now. Oh, forget it. This game is way too easy.

Of course. It's snowing!

We getting another 4-5 inches of snow today. This is on top of the 1 inch we got on Wednesday night and the 2 inches we got on Monday. Some snow did melt last week, but that really didn't make a dent. For someone like me who doesn't particularly like winter, this weather is annoying.

My family was supposed to come and visit today (for the weekend) and obviously, they're not coming. They say they're coming tomorrow morning. All I can say is that Greg went grocery shopping in today's blizzard and spent over $300, so they better get their asses down here somehow. I have to pick the girls up at daycare in an hour and I'm going to walk the two blocks, because Greg almost didn't get the car back up our slightly-sloping driveway and into the garage.

We're going to Disney with the girls in less than a month. The Weather Channel says it's 84 degrees in Orlando today. I'm ready now.

Fine and dandy, except when we're not

We're all fine, here in the Lee household after Christmas. I spent a bunch of time picking up the living room, dining room, and basement last night, so most of our gifts are under the tree, or adjacent to the tree, or actively being played with, or they're on the kitchen table so we don't have anywhere to eat.

I wanted to make sure that the gift clothing that the girls received all fit, so I told them last night that it was time for "Fashion Show," which is our process of trying on everything. There's really no "show" involved, unless you include getting Daddy to take his eyes off "Hellboy" for a moment to say that she looks nice.

Allie removed her sweatshirt and jeans and started trying things on. Julia, who still sometimes struggles with not having a nap in the afternoon, was having one of those days. She protested taking her clothes off, then started crying, then said, with all the indignation her little voice could muster, "Fashion Show is BORING."

This was after I moved the toy she was playing with over two inches, and she yelled, "Mommy, now I can't find my mug (which is about 1/4 inch high, by the way) and I'll have to get a NEW ONE!" Then she started crying.

I told her she didn't have to do Fashion Show, and then she said, "Allie won't PLAY with me. Allie won't let me be the PRINCESS," and she started crying.

It was a long evening.

Merry Christmas to all

We're home again, the wrapping paper is mostly picked up, and we've opened 16 or so new toys today. Our girls are spoiled and so are we.

Thank you to everyone for the gifts. I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas!

Sing, sing a song

Yes, today was the day of Allie's "Winter Sing" (mustn't call it a Christmas concert). She did a wonderful job, smiling and singing whole-heartedly and not waving, which is against the rules. Her elementary school has a new music teacher this year who did a good job, though we were disappointed that the second graders were the only class who didn't have a song with choreography. And did you know that "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" actually sounds kind of sad. Oh well. She was very happy that both of her parents were able to make it and I'm sure Greg will be posting some photos soon.

Julia was busy today too, attending a short holiday party at her preschool. She brought a small gift and received one in return, a stuffed penguin which she hasn't let go of since she got home (probably since this morning's party, frankly). That's partially because she decided yesterday to give up her blankie. No, she hasn't given up sucking her thumb. She's just apparently giving up that specific prop.

I'll take what I can get.

For dinner tonight, Greg made turkey matzo ball soup, which was wonderful since the turkey cooked more that it had on Sunday. And now the girls are watching "The Nightmare Before Christmas" while Greg is snoring, sleeping sitting up on the couch. And he gives Dave a hard time for doing that!

Resigned

Guess what's going to happen around here today? Can you guess it? Do you have an inkling?

Aww, you guessed. It's going to snow.

Sigh.

Prep-for-holiday Saturday

This morning, Allie and I made a list of the things we need to get done this weekend. So far, we've made Church Windows, gone to a holiday party, and made dough for Christmas cutouts. Greg wrapped some gifts this afternoon so we're getting there on a fourth item from the list. Tomorrow, we need to bake the Christmas cutouts, decorate them, bake a chocolate cake for my department potluck on Monday, pick up Famous Dave's barbeque for the potluck, and wrap and sort more gifts. The presents are actually birthday and Christmas, since Ashton, Judy, Rachel, and Marcia all have birthdays between the 17th and the 28th.

What are Church Windows, you may ask? Well, it's really a technical, lengthy recipe. I don't want to be typing all night, so I'm not sure I should get into it here. I do have some other things to get done yet this evening. Oh, all right.

Put a stick of butter and a bag of chocolate chips in the microwave on high for 1 minute. Stir. Dump in a bag of colored marshmallows. Form into loaves and refrigerate. Cut in slices and you have Church Windows. Phew, I'm exhausted just typing about it.

The chocolate cake is called Almost-As-Good-As-Sex Cake. There's a Better Than Sex Cake recipe out there but this is not that. You bake a German chocolate cake mix like usual. Poke holes all over. Dump a can of sweetened condensed milk on top. Dump a jar of caramel ice cream topping on top. Cover the whole thing with whipped cream. Crush two Heath bars and sprinkle on top. It's really, really good.

I like to bake, but I love simple recipes. I used to say that the only recipe I had memorized was Nestle Tollhouse Cookies, but that's obviously not true because I just did these simple recipes from memory. You really should try them. Go ahead, stop reading blogs and go create something for your family and friends. Just please come back later, OK?

And by the way, we got another 2 inches of snow today. I think that brings the total to 26 inches. OK, God, we get the point--you wanted us to have a white Christmas and we definitely are going to. Now cut it out.

The girl who?

We're watching the cartoon "I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown," which I had never heard of, but apparently it's the "new" Charlie Brown special. It focuses on Linus's younger brother, Rerun, and because it's not the traditional Charlie Brown Christmas special, I'm not interested. The girls and Greg are pretty absorbed though.

Greg just paused the TV on a picture of Linus holding his blanket and sucking his thumb. He told Julia he's going to call her "The Girl Linus" now. She doesn't seem too happy about that.

If I thought that Julia would stop sucking her thumb if we called that name (without psychological damage), I think I'd consider it. Unfortunately, I doubt it is going to be that easy.

Changes

I'm getting a new boss today. Considering that my current boss has been with the company for 17 years, and has overseen my department for the entire time, that's a big change. I've been in my current position for 2 years now, but I've been with the company for 10, so a new era is about to start.

My new boss could be one of three people. I have a fervent hope for one individual, but that doesn't mean I'm going to get my wish. No one has asked my opinion. I'll know today, so keep your fingers crossed for me!

I want Kreacher

I was rereading part of the last Harry Potter book this weekend and I've come to a decision. I want a house elf. If you've read the books, you know that this is a controversial statement. House elves are slaves, bound to their masters or their master's family for eternity, or until they are given clothes (see the second Harry Potter movie for more information). But my family has a definite need.

We desperately need someone to help us with our clothing problem.

If you looked around my home right now, you would see a heaping basket of clean laundry waiting to be put away. You'd see hampers in Allie's room and in Julia's room. You'd see a hamper in the mudroom/laundry room/back hallway. None of these three is particularly full at the moment because I did laundry this weekend. And then you'd see the piles.

There's a pile of clothes at the end of the bed where Greg dropped them. I don't generally pick up these clothes, so when he does, that's when his clothes get washed. He has a lot of clothes so this isn't usually a problem. There's a pile of clothes in the middle of the living room from where the girls changed into their pajamas last night. I'd feel worse about the changing clothes in the living room thing if I didn't know that lots of people let their kids do that (including Dan and Kerry, hah!). I just want a laundry fairy or elf or someone to pick them up besides me. And it's always me (unless I yell at the girls).

The worst problem is the socks. Both Greg and the girls have a habit of taking off their socks wherever. And our cats like socks. I've seen Rabies many times with socks in his mouth. They end up all over the house--in every hallway, by the front door, in the middle of the kitchen. Until last night, there were two socks in the back corner, underneath the Christmas tree. I picked up two off the landing of the stairs yesterday. It's a little insane.

So until I get a house elf, I just want to put the warning out there to visitors--No, we're not begging for extra goodies by leaving extra "stockings" around. Yes, we do have a problem.

Crafty

It snowed again this weekend, what a surprise. BEFORE this last storm, the weatherman said that we were almost 12 inches above average for snowfall for the month of December. It's going to only be in the 20s this week, so it doesn't look like anything is going to melt any time soon. Enough of the weather report.

The Lee family went shopping this weekend, Greg with the girls for me and me alone for Greg. The parking lots were the worst part of the experience. They're rutted and still not well plowed, full of icy patches.

Today we stayed in and the girls and me did some crafts for people we like. All will be revealed in the next few weeks.

That phrase has more meaning that what I just typed, but I can't say anything further right now.

Shopping success

Allie went back to school today. She ate a little for breakfast, she wasn't dizzy or shaky, and she said she wanted to go, so we sent her. She said she put her head sideways on her desk a lot, and her teacher sent her to the office once to have her temperature taken (it was normal), but she made it through the day. What a trooper.

So Greg and I got to shopping. We started at about 9:30 and finished at 3:45 or so. We got presents for my mom's and Greg's mom's birthdays, two family-exchange participants, our daycare provider's kids, our daycare provider, Dwayne's little girl, and our two girls. It all went really smoothly and the snow held off starting until about 5 p.m., so we didn't have to deal with that mess.

The newspaper says we have 13 inches of snow and ice on the ground now and we're supposed to get another 3-4 inches by tomorrow. Greg commented earlier today that it seems we'll have a white Christmas. We didn't have snow last year, so I guess that would be OK. Then, the whole lot of it can melt on December 26th, as far as I'm concerned. Bah humsnow.

It must be winter

What are the signs:

o It's been snowing like a sonofabitch and more is coming tomorrow
o People at work are complaining endlessly (with some justification) about the state of the parking lots and sidewalks that they have to use. At least 10 people have fallen, 2 somewhat seriously.
o My co-worker hit a lump of ice in the driveway at work and tore the fender off her two-month-old car. $600 damage
o In the last two weeks, all of us in the Lee household have been sick

To delineate that further, I got a cold right after Thanksgiving that I'm still getting over. Julia spent that same weekend throwing up, mostly in the middle of the night. Soon afterwards, Greg had some stomach problems. Last weekend, there weren't any new illnesses but we couldn't really leave the house because of the weather.

Today, Allie got up as usual and went downstairs. When I came downstairs, she was lying on the couch and saying her stomach hurt. We assumed it was constipation and she perked up quite a bit as we left for daycare and school. About 1 hour later, her school called and said she'd thrown up in class.

Greg and I are very proud of her (seriously). She threw up into her hands as she ran for the wastebasket. She said she didn't get any vomit on her desk and maybe only a couple of drops on the floor for the school janitor to take care of. When I picked her up in the school office, she vomited again and didn't get any of it anywhere except a waste basket. After she got home, she threw up again and still didn't even get her clothes dirty. After Greg came home and I went back to work, she threw up several more times and never made any mess to speak of. That's pretty amazing for a sick almost 8-year-old.

Now, I'm hoping that the just slightly uneasy stomach I'm feeling is purely psychosomatic. Greg and I are supposed to get our Christmas shopping for the girls done tomorrow--we've both taken vacation--and if Allie is well enough to go to school, we're still on for that.

We're supposed to get another 3-4 inches of snow. I can hardly wait.

Ready for Christmas

Well, it snowed this weekend, and sleeted and freezing rained and rained, but it snowed this weekend, so outdoors is looking like Christmas.

Greg gave in to Julia's begging yesterday and brought up our two artificial Christmas trees from the basement. (Don't get me started on artificial trees--yes, they were easy and they look OK, but it's so not like it should be.) We put them up yesterday. Today, the girls went through every box of ornaments and decorated for an hour or so, so that looks like Christmas. We have one tree in the dining room window on the front of the house and one tree in the corner of the living room.

Allie and Julia sat down this evening after their bath and started their Christmas lists for Santa, so that's sounding like Christmas. We'll probably take them to see our favorite Santa at the mall one night this week or next, so that seems like Christmas.

So I guess we're getting ready. We just have to make Christmas cookies, consider actually doing a Christmas card (we'd like to do a photo card of the girls and I know, that's really easy to do but we never seem to do it), buy all of the gifts, wrap all of the gifts, mail some of the gifts, plan our holiday schedule, make holiday food, and do our holiday travel, and Christmas will be all set. I'm tired already.

The end of the world is coming

We're going to have a snowstorm today. And people are acting like the apocalypse is here. It's going to start at noon, last all day and into the night, and encompass as much as 14 inches of snow in some places in the state. We're supposed to get somewhere between four and eight around here, but then there'll be sleet and ice afterwards. The authorities are warning of possible power outages if worst comes to worst. I'm sure the local grocery is almost out of milk and bread, because even though most American homes contain enough food to last for a couple of weeks, people do panic when given enough news warnings. The Red Cross says they have 550 volunteers on reserve to set up emergency shelters if necessary.

Around the Lee household, we did buy milk, since we were almost out. We also bought oatmeal, raisins, and chocolate chips, because I firmly believe in making cookies when it rains or snows all day. And if we make cookies, we needed milk anyway. Greg is excited because it sounds like he's going to be able to try out his brand new snowblower. We have plenty of wood for the fireplace, some candles, lots of batteries if we could just find some of the zillion flashlights we own.

The worst part? We could lose internet access. Oh, the horror!

Standing for something

For the last few years, off and on, I've been fascinated by a Stephen King novel, "The Stand." If you haven't read it, I'll try a quick plot summary. A secret lab in the southwestern U.S. accidentally releases a superflu virus that kills 99.6% of Americans over about two weeks (and later the world population too). The survivors all begin having similar dreams at night, either of a dark faceless man (guess who he is) or of an old black woman. Gradually, the survivors band together and travel west to either Las Vegas (guess who's taken up residence there--thanks for the heavy symbolism, Stephen) or to Boulder, Colorado. The followers of the dark man are plotting to kill off all of the Boulderites and then something big and dramatic happens and a bunch more people die. Happy ending still follows.

They made the book into a miniseries a few years ago, starring Rob Lowe, Gary Sinise, Molly Ringwald (gotta have Molly Ringwald), and few other lesser stars. I caught part of Part 3 the other night on some channel or other, which compelled me to get the book out again and reread parts of it.

Greg sighs when he sees me reading it again and frankly, I can't exactly explain why it so captures my attention. I think it's just thinking about what it would be like if you were one of maybe two people (in a town my town's size) to survive such a plague. All of your family members would be dead. Depending on when your family caught the flu, you might have to bury them. The plague also kills dogs and horses, but not cats, so I guess you'd still have companionship. The electricity would go out eventually, but there's lots of camping gear available and you could certainly pick and choose which house to live in. Scavenging for food would be easy and I guess no one is going to complain if you chop down your neighbor's tree for firewood. I don't know how you would handle the bodies everywhere, but if you got past that, then what? How would you live the rest of your life? How would you keep from going crazy.

A lot of the flu survivors committed suicide, but many of the Boulderites got busy clearing the roads, burying the bodies, learning how to be farmers, and fixing the power plant. Reestablishing civilization. But "civilization" and technology is how we got the superflu in the first place--oooo, deep.

A story

Sometimes you hear something that you just have to share:

George was sitting having Thanksgiving dinner with his wife, his daughter-in-law, his son, and their 9-month-old daughter. The baby was sitting on George's wife's lap, and she was feeding the baby mashed potatoes and gravy. The baby was loving it. She grabbed with one hand at the plate and got a handful of stuffing, which promptly went into her mouth. The stuffing had big chunks of onion in it. The baby choked and stopped breathing.

George's wife pounded her on the back. Nothing happened. The baby still wasn't breathing. The daughter-in-law took the baby and pounded her on the back. Nothing happened. The baby was turning blue.

George said all he was thinking was, we're never going to make it to the hospital in time. George took the baby, turned her over, and thrust into her diaphragm while pushing on her back. The chunk of onion flew out of her mouth and she started breathing. She started crying.

George knows he saved her life. He says he thanks God for the first aid course he was required to take as a manufacturing supervisor at our company, the course that he credits with giving him the tool to save his granddaughter's life.

What an amazing story. And yet things like this happen every day. They just don't always have a happy ending. Happy Thanksgiving, George! Thank god.

Thanksgiving

Ah, yes. It's once again the holiday of eating.

We're having turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, squash gratin, carrots, baked beans, stuffing, apple slaw, rolls, shrimp cocktail and little smokies for appetizers (because there wasn't already enough food involved in this day), pumpkin pie and pecan pie.

If no one's stomach explodes and Greg doesn't have a coronary while stressing over the deep-fried turkey, we'll have a wonderful day.

I need to go make apple slaw now. Happy Turkey Day!

Dust bunnies my ass

My home is dusty. I am not, and never have been, one of those people who dusts every week or who runs around with a cloth, swiping everything in sight. Nothing against those people who do do that, it just doesn't appear to be in my genetic makeup. As a result, we usually dust only when there's company coming (yes, we used to have a cleaning lady but that was like, two years ago--keep up, people).

When we clean house for company, as we've been doing for the last few days because my in-laws are coming for Thanksgiving, we take care of the most used rooms first. Bathrooms, basement (because someone is usually sleeping in our finished basement and we don't spend a lot of time down there otherwise), and living room/kitchen. We hit the bedrooms least of all, and our master bedroom definitely gets the short end of the stick because there is no reason for guests to go in there.

The unfortunate result is that the room where I spend the most hours at home is also the most dusty. Not awake hours, sleeping hours, but still.

It's worse at work. Oh, we have janitors (so-called) but they only pick up garbage and do very very cursory vacuuming. Because I'm in my office when they do the vacuuming, they never actually push the vacuum anywhere inside my doorway. As a result, I don't think the carpeting in my office has been completely vacuumed since it was installed, which was--let me think--about five years ago. The top of my desk hasn't been completely cleared and wiped since I moved into this office. That was two years ago.

Fortunately for appearances, my office is inside a factory. No one cares how my carpeting looks. It's not unusual to have undercoating (a tar-like substance) somewhere in the hallway. Most upholstered chairs have stains that have come from the clothing of visiting employees, especially paint. You just kind of get used to it. And despite improvements in the air quality outside my windows (which overlook the manufacturing floor), eventually weld dust gets inside everywhere. Did I mention the air conditioning system? It runs year round because we're located over the cafeteria and we get a lot of heat from the kitchen below and from the vending machines. Every once in awhile, the maintenance department must attempt to partially clear the ducts or something by back blowing, because I'll come in and my conference room table is covered with bits of black grit (it's right under the vent).

All in all, it's a good thing I'm not asthmatic. Not yet, anyway.

4:36

4:36 is a good time if it's afternoon on a weekday. The workday is almost done and it's time to head home, where hopefully Greg will have a wonderful dinner waiting that's not meatloaf.

4:36 is not a good time if it's morning. That's what time it was today when Rabies the cat started playing with his toy mouse downstairs. I know, I know--we are grateful it's a toy mouse, especially given a news story in the paper this morning about how 'tis the season for mice to move in to your warm, lovely abode and given Dan's story recently about mice visitors. Nonetheless.

I lifted my head off the pillow when he first started playing, making sure it wasn't a burglar or something. Simon the cat was laying on the bed with us, so I knew he wasn't the guilty party. It quickly became clear that it wasn't a burglar because they would never make so much noise.

He made so much noise that I couldn't get back to sleep. Of course, I wasn't inclined to actually get up and try to take the mouse away from him. That would have meant leaving my warm and toasty bed (we turn the thermostat down pretty far at night). Besides, the cats love these mousies.

Greg and the girls cleaned up the living room last night and Greg took the plastic and cardboard package of mice off the mantel, where it's been living for the last month. The cats were so interested in playing with the contents that they started sliding the container around the floor, batting at a package. I couldn't deny my cat some small measure of fun, could I?

The next time he does it at that time of the day, it's the basement for him!

For my family

A not-so-secret message: If any of you have time, it would be wonderful if you could pick up a pair of tights for Allie. She wants to wear a dress on Saturday and I didn't realize that she's outgrown all of her tights until we were packing tonight. She's wearing size 8ish now. Thank you very much.

And for the other three of you that read my blog, how's it going. Good, good. Yeah, me too--I just hate that old time change. Hope you're staying healthy. Have a great Thanksgiving! Talk to you all soon.

Life lessons

My family gathered around the TV this evening. No, we don't always have the TV on. As a matter of fact, Allie was finishing her homework and Julia was playing with her Polly Pocket doll on the end table. But we were physically in close proximity to the TV and Greg and I were watching it. We were watching "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern" on the Travel Channel. This is a show where a chef guy does nothing but travel to locations far and wide and eat weird shit.

It's rather fascinating to see someone who regularly eats around cartilage and tendons, who likes organ meats (especially hearts) and enjoys fish parts that most people throw away, not to mention that he likes bugs. He shows the "food" (and I use that term lightly) to the camera, then stuffs it into his maw, crunching (usually the stuff is crunchy, unless it's really really chewy) and then comments on how it tastes. Unimaginably gross, I would guess. Tonight, he actually commented on how delicious some cow intestines were, saying that he's eaten cow intestines before that weren't well washed and were from the lower intestine and not coincidentally, that those tasted, as he said, like "you know what." He also ate a tarantula, pulling off the legs one by one and then saying that the mushy abdomen tasted like the inside of a lobster. We all cringed when he ate a whole Madagascar hissing cockroach, flavored with teriyaki. Those suckers are huge. He liked the cockroach too.

Eventually, there was a commercial and I hit the mute while we all silently gave thanks that we had finished dinner more than an hour before. That's when Greg noticed that Julia's Polly Pocket was having a makeout session with a Spiderman figure. Polly and Spiderman were really getting in to the kissing thing, so much so that I'm sure if there had been more people around, someone trying to be clever would have suggested that they get a room.

I asked Julia if Spiderman was Polly's boyfriend and if they were going to get married. Greg asked if they were going to have a baby and I promptly inserted that they had to get married before they could have a baby. It's never too late to start indoctrinating the children, you know. And it's never too early to start convincing them that there are better ways to make money than going on a show like "Fear Factor." Even if I do like to watch it.

My cat is actually a dog

How do I know this?

o His new favorite toy is a stick

o He chases his tail

o He's desperate to get outside

o He puts up with Allie dragging him around the house in a most uncatlike manner

o He chews on rubber things

o He attacks other cats

o He carries socks and other things from room to room and floor to floor

OK, so it's not much to go on. But I'm pretty sure he's got some mixed-up dog genes in there somewhere.

Waving goodbye

If you've read my blog or Greg's blog for awhile, you know that my family has a cast-in-stone tradition every work morning. Greg most often leaves for work before the girls and I leave the house, so every morning, we wave goodbye to him from the window in our dining room. The "we" is usually me, Allie, and Simon the cat, who almost never misses. Julia, who you may be wondering about, can't normally tear herself away from the opportunity for two more minutes of children's cartoons before she has to go to daycare, so she only infrequently shows up to wave. Rabies the cat is indifferent to the routine.

You may not know why we have this tradition. It dates back almost 10 years now. When Greg and I were newlyweds, we packed up house and home and moved to Wisconsin, my home state and for Greg, the first time he'd ever lived in another state. We didn't know a soul in this town. To say that Greg was conflicted about the move was an understatement. He loved the new job he quickly (very quickly, damn his eyes) found, but he was tortured by how well he was doing at it (very well, obviously, since he's still there). So I started the waving tradition from the inside front steps of the townhouse apartment we lived in at the time. I was joined by a cat then too, the dearly departed Pig, but that's another story.

When I gave birth to Allie, she started joining me at the window, first with her little hand being waved from a blanket-wrapped bundle in my arms. Then she grew up enough to stand next to me, holding on to the window frame so she wouldn't fall over. Then she spent a long series of mornings waving while jumping up and down (something about preschooler energy). It got a little more complicated when she started school, because there was more to get done in the morning, like packing her backpack and making sure she combed her hair. But we always showed up to wave.

Now, Allie is almost 8. Her head reaches almost exactly the midpoint between my chest and my chin. She understands the subtleties of the glances her father and I exchange sometimes. She laughs at the right times at jokes that rely on surprising word play or puns. She knows a lot of big words. This child not only understands what the word "sophisticated" means, she uses it in correct context. But she's still a little girl.

Yesterday morning, I called her and told her Daddy was leaving. She normally takes a last bite of cereal, gets up, and comes to the window to wave. I called her again from the window as I started waving goodbye to Greg. She shrieked and ran but by the time she made it, Greg had already started to turn the corner in front of the house and he wasn't looking anymore. Allie looked up at me and huge tears welled in her eyes as her face crumpled.

"I didn't get to wave goodbye!" It was the end of the world.

Thank goodness for cell phones. She calmed down when she got to call Daddy (by now six blocks away) and tell him she was sorry she hadn't made it to wave goodbye.

I'm just thinking of how much longer she's going to want to do this tradition. And I wonder how soon I'm going to be waving goodbye to her being a little girl. Some days, it doesn't feel like too long from now.

I'm hating it

Most packaging these days is designed to be easy to open once purchased. There are some exceptions, like every frickin' children's toy in existence. With the approach of Christmas, I'm already thinking that our family needs to stock up on new scissors, hedge clippers, pry bars, chain saws, and blowtorches, just so we can open the toys that Santa places under our tree.

It's truly exhausting. You and your child can see the toy. You can see all of the amazing and tiny pieces of the toy (especially if your child is over 3 and they supposedly will no longer ingest said toy pieces the minute they're placed in their hands). You just can't get to the toy. Nuh uh. No way. You're going to have to struggle and sweat and deal with the tugging on your sleeve, the pleading, the huge eyes welling with tears as your child waits longer for the new toy than they've ever had to wait for anything in their short life.

Everyone talks about happy memories of the season and the joy of Christmas Day. No one ever speaks of the horror. Oh, the horror.

Ch-ch-ch-chilly

Allie's doing a project for school this entire week when she's supposed to record the phases of the moon and the weather outside. Unfortunately for her and her class, it's been cloudy and cold, sometimes windy, for three entire days (and nights) now. We first saw snow flurries on Monday, though thank god nothing stayed on the ground, and it's perfectly clear that Indian summer ain't coming around this year.

The good news is that we can now burn some wood in our fireplace. We thought that the fireplace was one of the nicest things about our house when we first saw it, but quite shortly after we moved in, we started having kids. Kids and fireplaces don't mix all that well, so we've had several winters when we used our fireplace only once or twice.

Two years ago, we bought a firewood rack (but didn't buy any wood for it) and this year, we finally purchased a face cord of firewood. We actually ended up with more than a face cord, because the guy brought a trailer full and we got the trailer full. Nonetheless, we've had two fires now, including tonight.

Outside, it's cold (30s) and windy, but inside by the fire, we're toasty. We're enjoying staring into the fire (especially the cats, who are utterly fascinated). I'm proving my fire prowess by poking the thing every five minutes or so to keep it flaming instead of smoldering. Everything is well. At least, in the living room, it's well.

Upstairs, we're paying the price for the downstairs thermostat being completely screwed up by how warm the fire has made the room. It's pretty chilly up here. I'm going to wrap up this typing, find my long underwear, and try to warm up the sheets for sleep. Lucky Greg will find things pre-toasted under our comforter when he comes to bed, and eventually the temperature will equalize and the furnace will once again work appropriately.

We're warm and toasty and cold and shivery. Sounds like a Wisconsin winter to me.

Alrighty then

I'm not sure what to say about this. I guess parties including these are all the rage in the U.K.

Dan and Kerry, I'm really hurt that you didn't throw one of those while we were visiting. (Sniff, stifled sob) No, really. It's (sniff) OK. I'm sure we can do it another time, like ten years from now when we (sob, sniff) visit you again.

At our home today

Julia (in tears): Allie is mean.

Me: Allie is taking a turn with your toy and then you can have it, Julia.

Julia: I don't like Allie. I don't want a sister.

Me (smiling behind her back): Do you love Allie?

Julia: No, I don't love Allie.

Reminds me of fighting with my two older sisters when I was a kid. Don't worry, Julia. In about 14 years, I'm sure the two of you will be the best of friends.

Giggles galore

I took the girls to the grocery store this afternoon and they conned me into taking the big red kid-transporter cart around the store. You know, the one with the cart on the front and the big plastic attachment on the back so two kids can sit comfortably and even stretch out their legs. It's incredibly difficult to steer, but the girls like it because they can hop in and out and sometimes Mommy drives in fun patterns if the aisle is wide and uncrowded.

We went through the produce section, then both girls got free cookies at the bakery, so they were happy chewing and riding for a little while. Of course, that didn't last. They started standing when they were supposed to be sitting and hopping in and out a little too frequently. Then they started giggling.

I'm sure to the casual observer, they looked awfully cute. They were giggling together and complaining loudly about the things I wasn't buying them and it was all very charming until they started to play hit each other. They thought it was incredibly funny, but they got louder and louder and I told them to cut it out more than once.

I asked them if it looked like I was serious about them calming down. I told them if they ever wanted to see their Halloween candy again, they needed to stop hitting each other. I asked them politely to quiet down.

Meanwhile people in the store kept smiling at them and the noise they were making. Of course, Allie especially just loves to perform, so on they went. I'm sure they're regretting things now that all of their candy has become mine. Thank goodness my evil plan has come to fruition. It's mine, all mine!

280 this year

That's how many trick-or-treaters (or, as Greg calls them, Halloweenies) we had visit our house in a 2 hour period last night. Yes, we do count them, something my family has always done. I know a lot of people who get no trick-or-treaters at all, or who get maybe 20-40 kids. We get a LOT of kids, partially because we live on a cul de sac and partially because we live in the depths of suburbia. Nonetheless, we were glad to see them.

Greg did his normal decorating job outside, black light for the porch light, strobes, creepy music, fog machine, and full size mummy. Thanks to Cindy, we gave away hundreds of Beanie Babies before we started giving out candy.

The reactions to my announcement that we were giving away Beanie Babies this year were priceless. Greg was a little afraid that the older kids and boys would not be thrilled to get a toy instead of candy, but he was grossly mistaken. At times, we had 10 or so kids just standing under the lights at the end of the front walkway, exclaiming and comparing which Beanie Baby they had gotten. Thank you very much, Cindy. It was very cool to share those with all of those happy kids.

Our two children did a satisfactory job bringing home an assortment of sugar-filled items. Now we just have to wait until the sugar rush wears off each evening and they fall into exhausted sleep, then IT'S FAIR GAME ON THE MILKY WAYS!

A long, long time ago and a long post

OK, so why haven't I written in over a month? Choose from the options below:

a) I realized that I could never compete with Dan's total number of posts and it threw me into the depths of despair, destroying my creativity and sapping my will to live

b) I was needed on a vital human resources mission to Mars

c) I decided that I loved chocolate more than life itself, and Greg banned me from typing after my messy fingers ruined three keyboards

d) I got out of the habit of writing when I spent a month researching our trip to Ireland and now that it's over, I've just become incredibly lazy

I feel like I should write more about our trip since I left people on our second day of vacation. That evening, Greg and I did the walk in the cow pasture that he wrote about, but earlier we enjoyed the atmosphere of an ancient stone circle at sunset. And before that, I bought an Irish fisherman's sweater and we had some amazing fish and chips in a little takeaway place that had just a few tables. We sat in the late afternoon sun and talked about how we couldn't believe we weren't at home, in the middle of a regular work day.

It's quite odd, you know. The whole idea of getting into a little tube, sitting in a little seat, and then getting out of the tube to find that you're in a completely different part of the globe.

At the start of the above (second) day, we toured the Waterford Crystal Factory, which was great. Then we drove across the country of Ireland, which wasn't great. I overscheduled us for driving on the whole trip. We had drives of mostly less than three hours, which sounded fine on paper. The problem was that driving each half hour on those roads seemed like an hour. We were really, really glad to get to Kenmare, especially after I managed to ding the car.

On our third day, we went to Killarney National Park, saw Torc Falls and Muckross House and Gardens, rode in a jarvey (a horsedrawn cart, totally touristy but there's a reason why tourists enjoy these things), Greg kissed the Blarney stone, and we battled our way through Cork to the airport. We were amazingly happy to park the rental car at the airport. Then we flew to Manchester.

How can I describe our two-day visit with Dan and Kerry and Amy and Evan and Paul and Jeanette and Archie. It was wonderful. It was amazing. Greg and I both admitted later than when we sat eating a fantastic traditional English dinner in Jeanette's and Archie's house, we thought, how cool it was that we were there. Eating dinner with wonderful friends who we didn't know until we met over the internet. I know, I know, people all over the world are getting married to and having babies with people they meet on the internet, but it's still a crazy idea. We were sitting in a Yorkshire town, eating dinner with wonderful people who treated us fantastically well, like we were special or something.

They'd probably say that we did the same when Dan and Kerry visited us in March of this year, but it's one thing to open your home to some neat people and quite another thing to impose on those people, to say, hey, we're coming to your neck of the woods, hope you're OK with that. For Pete's sake, they picked us up very late on a Friday night and drove us in the dark and rain to our hotel (that was Kerry). They met us at the hotel, just to welcome us to England (that was Dan, when Kerry brought us there). They picked us up the next morning, entertained us for the entire day, fed us, gave us gifts, let us hold their children, drove us all over kingdom come (thank you, lord, especially considering the roads in their area!), and made us laugh until our faces ached. And they brought us to a grocery store, so Greg could buy enough mustard to supply our hometown (you would think, even though he bought 8 tubes of Colman's and he's already on the third tube a month later).

We had a wonderful visit with all of them, experienced a real English pub (I'm pretty sure we were the only Americans in the place), sat in their garden and just enjoyed an English Sunday morning, walked along a gorgeous historic canal (though everything, it seems, is older than America), got to see Tower Hill in person instead of just in pictures, and genuinely felt welcomed and pampered. You were all wonderful. We can't thank you enough.

And then we flew back to Ireland, and as if to make up for the start of it, things started to go better. We enjoyed the Rock of Cashel early in the morning, we had a smooth drive back to Dublin, we found where to return the rental car without any problems (and they didn't charge us for the ding), and our last hotel was modern, clean, and rather American-feeling (Holiday Inn, you know). We toured the Guinness Storehouse, bought our last gifts, ate dinner, rode the local bus, and retired to bed gratefully. We came home the next day, to find a house full of family and food and our girls, looking healthy and spoiled and more grown up than when we left, I swear.

So quickly, we've slipped right back into our normal routines. The girls do cute things that have been going mostly undocumented, we enjoy excursions like pumpkin patching and shopping for a new winter coat for Allie, and the weather is turning colder.

Autumn is here, but we'll always remember the green hills of Ireland and Yorkshire. Thank you to everyone who made our vacation possible.

The Irish trip so far

Bad: We had to check our bags when we would have preferred to keep them (they're carry-ons but Aer Lingus has stupid rules)
Good: We didn't have to schlep them around the airport with us while we waited

Bad: Greg couldn't sleep on the plane
Good: Greg got to see two movies he was wondering about, plus Deb did manage to sleep for two hours because the plane had lots of empty seats

Bad: Our plane was about 45 minutes late arriving because we left late from Chicago
Good: Because we arrived later, we didn't have to drive in the dark (on the left)

Bad: Our first rental car had a dead battery because someone left a back door open
Good: We got a bigger car as a result, an Opel Corsa.

Bad: We got lost coming out of the airport because, yes, Irish road signage sucks
Good: Because of the extra time spent, we didn't have to wait more than 5 minutes to get into our first attraction in Wicklow and we had the place to ourselves for almost the entire tour

Bad: Greg almost killed us backing out of a driveway because of thick hedges
Good: Deb got to drive after that and liked it, since she had those two hours of sleep to go on

Bad: Greg felt ill for a good part of the day
Good: Because he felt ill, we cut some things from our itinerary and we got back to our room earlier to sleep (we went to sleep at 7:30 p.m. and slept until past 8:00 a.m. this morning)

Since we got up this morning, the day has mostly been good, other than the roads. Irish drivers are absolutely, positively nuts. Completely crackers. Stupid beyond belief. Road hogs of the worst sort.

Did I mention that we're looking forward to going to England tomorrow night because it means we get two days of being chauffeured around? See you soon, Hughes family! In fact, see you tomorrow.

Love to our girls, Mom and Dad!

The Americans are coming, the Americans are coming

Well, in the morning, we're off to visit the other side of the world (or at least Ireland). We're going to be renting a car, driving on the left (god rest our souls), and seeing the sights. Then in the middle of our trip, we're heading over to see Dan, Kerry, Amy and Evan (plus Jeanette and Archie, I believe) for two days.

We're very excited. They say they're very excited. I'm happy beyond belief to get away from work. Greg says he's not sure it was worth all the work he had to put in to take some time off, but he'll get happy--I'll make him.

I'm packed and my carry-on weighs 24 lbs. Greg is packing right now, muttering about colors of socks and tucking or untucking his shirts.

We're going to miss the girls like crazy, but they seem remarkably complacent about spending some quality time with Grandma and Grandpa. And those caregivers seem ready to go, especially since I gave them three pages of single-spaced notes on how to run our house and take care of the girls. You laugh, but they'll use every section, I'll wager.

Except for the girls' doctor's phone number and address. They can skip using that.

The semi-annual chore

Yes, it was time once again for the CHANGING OF THE CLOTHING!

We've had some cool weather and even though our children have warmer clothes, none of them were accessible. And in Allie's case, they needed to be gone through to be sure that things actually fit after a summer in which I think she grew at least an inch.

So I started at about 10:00 a.m. Went through Allie's pajama drawer and took out some that are very light and summery and some that are too small. Sorted through the undies to make sure they all still fit. Checked the tags on the undershirts. And then, then I tackled the socks.

Allie has a phenomenal number of socks, mostly due to her Nana. Nana bought Allie and Julia each 10 more pairs of socks when she and Papa last visited, so I think Allie's now up to about 40 pair (and this is after I pulled a bunch of small pairs out). Sorted through the shorts to figure out what won't fit next summer, likewise with dresses and short-sleeved shirts.

Checked the tags on all the warmer clothing, looked for stains on things from last spring, and made some big stacks. Put everything that she's going to need for fall away in her dresser drawers. And stacked up things that might fit her next spring for review next year for in her closet. So now it's 10:45.

Then I went in Julia's room and repeated the same procedure, with the added complication that I had to sort through the tubs of clothes that Allie doesn't fit into anymore, looking for 4T clothing that I packed away 3 years ago. This whole process is just so much fun.

I finished at 12:15 p.m. My kids have a lot of clothes. Way, way too many clothes. But they won't be cold this winter, that's for sure.

I'm just talkin'

Last night, me and the girls went to Madison to shop for Greg's birthday gifts (his birthday is Friday). Julia was drowsy and she ended up going to sleep on the 20 minute or so ride. Allie talked the entire way there, almost without pause.

Normally when the four of us are in the car, Greg and I talk to each other and the girls talk to themselves, or to each other. I think Allie felt that since Daddy wasn't along, she had to entertain me. I was entertained, too, by the way she could come up with an unending string of subjects.

My favorite was when she asked why you have to poke four holes in the top of a pie when you make it. After I explained in simple terms, she said, Oh, you have to let the pressure out! I told her that was exactly right and asked how she knew about pressure, expecting her to say from a school science lesson. She responded that she remembered hearing it in an episode of "Mythbusters." That's my girl.

When we arrived home, Greg immediately began pumping Julia for information on where we had gone. Allie clapped her hand over Julia's mouth and Julia put her hand over the top of that. They both got so many warnings on the way home about keeping birthday secrets that they weren't giving away anything. Nice try, Gregory! You'll have to wait until tomorrow, naughty man.

Flip, skip and (s)tumble

Back when Allie turned three, we started taking her to tumbling classes. These aren't gymnastics, where advanced equipment skills are acquired and skinniness is mandatory. These are classes where she learned to do a forward roll, backward roll, bear crawl, walk on a balance beam on the floor, and jump on a trampoline. She loved it and we went faithfully until she started kindergarten. Frankly, for a little girl whose middle name is Grace, we hoped she's acquire a little more grace, and she did.

And then we stopped going. She had gym class three times a week at school and it was getting tougher to entertain/distract her mobile little sister for the half hour of Allie's tumbling class.

Now that Julia's turned 4, and because we don't have our kids in any other kinds of structured activities, we decided to revisit the old tumbling class. Julia is in the tot group and Allie's in with girls about her own age, trying to learn how to do a cartwheel. Lots of cartwheels emphasized in this group and she doesn't have it yet, though she had gotten pretty close to doing one until we stopped going to class two years ago (selfish parents! bad parents!).

Tonight were their first sessions. Their classes overlap somewhat, so I couldn't see much of what Allie was doing in the other room. Julia turned unexpectedly shy, rather unlike her but she was being watched by about 8 other parents and I think that did it. After some encouragement, hugs, handholding, and high fives, she started participating on her own.

Afterwards, they both said it had been the most fun thing they'd ever done. They say that alot. Remember when it was true? That every new thing you did was the most fun thing you'd ever done. I miss that. Time to try bungee jumping, I guess.

OK, so we're going overseas

I'm exhausted from trying to find the perfect accommodations in Ireland. I've been reading website after website full of lovely-looking bed and breakfasts and guesthouses. Then I go to Tripadvisor, which has a fantastic area for reviewing such accommodations, and I find out that they all suck.

Oh, I exaggerate--there are some that don't suck. Unfortunately, they all cost about $250-300 per night. And the choices--there are literally hundreds of thousands of places to stay in Ireland. In some photos (even when the photographer is trying to produce a purely pretty photo), you can see a long row of B&B signs on the streets.

Greg is in favor of just winging it, of trying to just find a good place by driving down the undoubtably tiny roads. But I've read too many reviews about threadbare, gray sheets and disgusting bathrooms, not to mention surly landladies and noisy rooms. And when you have an infinite number of towns you could choose to make a base in, you can see why I haven't been doing much of anything except sitting in front of my computer.

We're going to see Dan and Kerry too. Since I've already booked the flight and the hotel, I can rest easy with those two days of the trip. They're going to take care of us. Right? Right?

My mission

Kerry, Killarney, Cork, Manchester, Waterford, Kilkenny. Onward through the research!

Tuesday, but it feels like Monday

Today was Allie's first day of second grade. She was excited and we were very calm about the whole thing, except for a bit of worry about where she was actually going to get off the bus at the end of the day (answer: same place as last year, idiots).

I would like to be writing more here, but I'm deeply immersed in an in-depth secret project requiring very extensive amounts of research. Enjoyable research, but lots and lots of research.

No, Greg, I'm not buying you a new motorcycle.

Boating on a holiday weekend

I fully realize how many lifestyles are out there that I really have no knowledge of. Trekkies, knitters, dog breeders, orchid gardeners, marathoners, mushroom hunters, swingers, and boaters--to name a few.

My family took a baby step towards understanding the whole boating thing yesterday. It's more accessible (and more desirable) than delving into some of the other lives I mentioned. Greg's parents were here for a long weekend and to celebrate their 28th wedding anniversary, so he decided that we'd rent a pontoon boat for a half day as a treat.

We've had abnormal amounts of rain in our area lately and some serious flooding (shades of your early summer, Dan!) and though our town wasn't affected, all of the nearby streams and lakes are high. As a result, despite Greg's desire to "let 'er rip" once we got out of the boat channel into Lake Kegonsa, he was restrained by a "no wake" rule--and the presence of the county sheriff, who passed us by twice.

Alas, despite our purchase of fishing licenses and a new fishing rod, no nibbles were to be found. Nonetheless, we all very much enjoyed the day. We'll definitely do it again with other visitors (you can guess who you are!). And hopefully, Greg will be able to indulge his desire for SPEED, RECKLESS AMOUNTS OF SPEED, AS MUCH SPEED AS YOU CAN GET FROM A PONTOON BOAT- FOR GOD'S SAKE.

Update on accident

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my co-worker who had a horrible accident with a young boy.

I've been meaning to give an update--the hospital has had the boy up and trying to walk with a walker (with a broken pelvis, no less). They're hoping that he may be released from the hospital in about one more week, so he can start recovering at home.

It's a blessing.

Weekend

Birthday trip. Rainy weather. Colman's Mustard. Popcorn. Creepy hills. Pete's Hamburger Stand. Toy store. Wisconsin Excursions. Mississippi. Eagles. Eagles. Eagles. Rain. Iowa. Spook Cave. Drips. Wet butt. Mud. Hotel. Fake Irish pub food. Swimming. Rain. Thunder. Who cares.

Noisy midnight kids. Move over! Breakfast. Swimming. Showers. Rain. Cabela's. Iowa again. Mudslide. Rock slide. Scenic overlook? Marina food. Entertainment mall--not. Fog. Mist. Free state park. Boardwalk in flipflops. Waterfalls. Clouds. View.

Bridge. Mississippi goodbye. Hills. Napping girls. Home.

Supper my Club

Last night, Greg and I went out for my birthday dinner. Yes, out on a Wednesday night, with a babysitter installed at home and no kids or nothin'. It was cool.

We went to a supper club, that most Wisconsin of institutions. Tornado Club Steak House in Madison, if you care to google it, just so you too can drool over the menu. This is an old-fashioned, screw those new-fangled, supper club. So dark in the evening that you need the candle on your table to read the menu. Lots of wood paneling and comfortable booths in the bar, intimate even though you can't fill the air with cigarette smokiness anymore (yay for smoking ordinances!). Wait staff in black with long white aprons, very knowledgeable about the way the steaks are cut and aged.

And the food. Mmmmmm.

They start you out with a relish tray, with a nod to the modern that the relishes are stuck into a tall, chilled glass instead of a little tray. All the favorites-carrots, celery, olives, pickles--followed by an amazing variety in the bread basket. Mostly traditional drinks on the menu, though Greg and I opted for Cosmopolitans (I'm a sucker for a fruity drink and of course it came with an orange rind swirl inside).

Wonderful salad with homemade dressing, of course, followed by great steak with excellent potatoes. I had steak fries, but these were really good steak fries. Not at all doughy like some places, crisp and hot and standing up to the rest of my meal.

I really like this restaurant. I think we should go back in two weeks (we have a family celebration coming up). I'll call the babysitter!

Pin ya ta

We bought a Tinkerbell pinata for Julia's birthday last Saturday. It was a pull string pinata, which we thought was good because we got a regular kind for Allie's birthday last January and filled it with candy and cheap plastic toys. During the beating required to break open the pinata, all of the plastic toys broke into many, many sharp colorful pieces. The whole thing was the pits.

When it was time to do Julia's pinata, I cut a long length of string to hang the pinata over the upstairs railing. It tangled as I cut it, because the cats insisted on "helping" me. The cats would chase one thread from a mop if it were moving, trust me. Regardless, I got the string around the top of the pinata and everyone gathered in the front hall to take turns pulling a string until the bottom of the pinata opened. The package guaranteed that at least 8 people could participate in the fun before the candy and toys inside would be unleashed.

Julia went first, of course. Because she's short, I had to lean way over the railing upstairs so she could reach a string. Did I mention that we forgot to prep her on how this whole thing was supposed to work?

She got under the pinata, grabbed all of the strings, Greg and I yelled in unison "JUST ONE!", I desperately tried to stretch further to allow more slack, and she yanked hard, spilling all of the candy and toys upon the floor. The entire thing took about six seconds.

I'm so glad we spent $15 on the thing. Sigh.

7 Things About Me

Well, Dan at All That Comes With It tagged me with a Meme, so I have to try to think of 7 things about me. Don't get me wrong, I like to talk about myself as much as anyone, but I think it's going to be difficult to be at least mildly interesting. I'm only doing this so I can tag three other people and get them to update their blogs:

1. I graduated magna cum laude with a double major in English and Business Administration and a minor in Economics. Why is it that people think you're a grammar expert just because you studied English literature?

2. My maiden name was Leege (pronounced "league"), so when Greg and I got married, we joked that we were getting "Leege-Lee" married. It wasn't really funny, but our wedding was featured in a local wedding magazine and they used that quote in the story.

3. Since I finished college, I've worked for only two firms. That's two companies in 20 (gasp, how can it be 20!) years. That's supposed to be quite unusual these days.

4. I purposely chose Julia's birthday to be in the month of July (on the 30th), while mine is in August, so that she would feel like she always had her own birthday celebration and it wouldn't become one event with mine.

5. My head is not evenly round. If I ever lose all my hair, I'm certainly going to be one of those women who always wears a head scarf, because I have what feels to me like a large bump out on one side, above my ear. I tell Greg it's because I have too many brains to fit in a normal shaped head.

6. I will read just about anything, especially if I'm alone and eating something. I used to work in a place where all my co-workers were male and we all had lots of free time around our work duties (someone had to be on duty all the time whether anything was happening or not). There were a ton of fishing magazines around and even though I have very little interest in fishing, I learned a lot about test line and trout populations.

7. I've had the same bed pillow since I was a kid. It's down and really heavy and probably totally gross, but I wouldn't think of replacing it. I'd feel icked out about it, but my sister Pam still has her pillow from the same time period, so I'm not alone. Someone at work told me that after two years, 1/2 of your pillow has been replaced by dust mite corpses (or some time period like that). I don't care, I'm keeping my pillow. So now you know that's I'm very stubborn.

Phew. I'm tagging my husband, because very few people are interested in his oil change blog. I'm tagging Dwayne, because I'm tired of feeling guilty that he rode for four hours to see us and we weren't home. And I'm tagging Bon Bon, because she does more photos than she writes and I'd like to know more about her. Happy Memeing!

Post party

For Julia's actual birthday, we did what she wanted and went off to McDonald's playland. She and Allie pretty much disappeared for over an hour into the tubes and tunnels. Then we came home and had a small chocolate cake, after she blew out the candles of course.

We had pretty much the usual birthday party planned for Saturday. Greg's parents weren't able to make it, but we still expected my parents, my sisters, and their men. Then my mom got sick, so she and my dad weren't able to come. And my brother-in-law Mike had to work. So our much appreciated but much abbreviated guest list included only my two sisters and Pam's boyfriend, Jeff.

The misfortune continued. The weather was unexpectedly cooler than we've been having and it actually rained off and on (mostly on) for a good part of the day, so we scratched Julia's 4th Annual Birthday Party Water Fight. We still had a very nice time and Julia got a bunch of new things to play with. And the dresses! Julia told everyone who asked that she wanted dresses for her birthday, so I believe she got 7 or 8 new ones. She didn't know which one to wear first (and she did change into one immediately, of course).

Because of my sister's insane work schedule, our guests actually left after only 7 hours. They drove a total of 5 hours in one day for a 7 hour party. You can see why they were much appreciated! Julia and Allie immediately buried themselves in her new toys and we settled in for the evening. Shortly before 8 p.m., I glanced up from a magazine to realize that Julia had fallen asleep on the couch.

She's mostly given up afternoon naps and she certainly wouldn't have taken one yesterday. She was too busy asking to open her gifts. Anyway, I scooped her up and carried her to bed. She woke up enough to protest that she didn't want to go to bed, but I think she was asleep again as I pulled up her covers. It was a wonderful day for her and for all of us.

This morning, my in-laws called and offered to have the girls as their guests for the week. We'd actually planned this same adventure for them earlier in the summer and it didn't work out, but this was unexpected rescheduling. We said yes, of course, because the opportunity for them to swim and be spoiled for a week is wonderful. I'm also trying to refrain from gloating about a week of being able to visit grown-up restaurants and see R-rated movies.

I'm going to pretend here that I didn't have a few tears as they drove away.

Counting our blessings

On Friday, I went to lunch about the same time as one of my female co-workers ("Mary") and one of my male co-workers ("John"). We didn't go to eat together, we just left within a few minutes of each other and thus we were due back within a few minutes of each other, obviously.

I came back to work on Dunkirk Avenue, which runs on one side of a high railroad embankment (you can't see over it). I found out later that Mary and John came back on Academy Street, which runs on the other side of the same embankment. As I was nearing the driveway to work, I heard a bunch of sirens coming in my direction. Other than checking to see if there were any emergency vehicles behind me that I needed to pull over for, I didn't think anything of it.

I sat down at my desk and my phone rang about five minutes later. It was John, calling to say that Mary had had an accident. I literally gasped when he told me that Mary had been driving along and she'd hit a child on a motorbike. As we found out later, the boy (who's about 12 years old) was visiting a friend up the street who had a mini motorbike--it looked like a mini dirtbike. The friend said the boy could try the motorbike, as long as he didn't go too far from the house.

The boy drove down the street and down a hill, and whether because of inexperience or panic, he flew right through a stop sign and into Mary's car. He hit on the front driver side corner and then went under the car. Mary says she doesn't remember seeing him hit the car, she just heard the screeching of tires and then she was stopping her car after running over him with both wheels on the driver's side. She got out and called 911. The boy wasn't wearing a helmet, and he was breathing in big gasps but unconscious.

A police officer arrived and then John drove up, on his own way back to work, to see someone lying in the street and Mary's car in the middle of the street. As the volunteer EMTs from our community pulled up, he called me to tell what was going on. The medical evac helicopter arrived shortly afterwards, as I called Mary's emergency contact, her mom. Thank god she was home. I told her that Mary was OK but very shaken and where the accident was.

Then I drove there myself; it's only about three blocks away. When I pulled up, the boy's mom (or so it seemed) was standing on one corner crying, being comforted by some other people. The flight surgeon from the helicopter, the flight nurse, and a number of EMTs were all working on the boy in the middle of the street. Several firefighters were standing around, holding screening cloths from the spectators and shading the workers from the hot sun.

John was standing on another corner and Mary was in the front seat of a police car, writing out what happened. She seemed OK, in shock obviously. She got out and I told her I had called her mom. I asked if she wanted me to call her husband and she couldn't decide. It was not a good time for me to be asking anything of her. Fortunately, her mom arrived just then. The police officer said she could leave, to head to the police station, instead of watching and waiting until they loaded the boy on the helicopter. They probably worked on him for over 1/2 hour in the middle of the street until he was stable enough to be transported. I happen to know, by the way, that the going rate for these helicopter rides is $12,000 each. Incredible lifesaving flights.

After Mary left with her mom, I didn't want to stay and stare at the scene in the street. John had to talk to the police more, since he'd been among the first on the scene, so I went back to work. And tried to concentrate since I was worried about Mary, and of course the boy, and I couldn't stop thinking of how easily it could have been me.

Over the weekend, I watched the TV and the newspaper for any news; there was none. I tried to make myself feel better by thinking that if the boy had died, it certainly would have been in the news. This morning, Mary was back at work. She'd been contacted by the family of the boy, who told her they were OK with her checking to see how he was doing.

His injuries? Skull fracture, broken jaw, broken pelvis, broken femur, and messed up foot, as well as other lesser injuries. He finally woke up on Saturday morning, though I would think they'll keep him heavily sedated until his brain stops swelling and they can figure out if he's going to have any brain damage. I wonder if things would have been better if he'd had a helmet on. The car had to have gone over his lower body. It seems that he's eventually, one day, going to be OK. I think Mary's going to be OK too. She has a strong faith and I know that's helping her.

It happened in an instant. Count your blessings.

Julia's birth story

I wrote out the story of when Allie was born awhile ago, and since Julia will be four years old tomorrow, I thought I'd write hers.

You can't help but compare your first pregnancy to subsequent pregnancies. In my experience, being pregnant with Julia and delivering her was far superior to my situation with Allie (sorry, Allie!). First, I knew what to expect in being pregnant. I pretty much knew how my body would feel and I was lucky a second time, again I never threw up. I felt confident that I could take care of an infant (completely unlike with Allie). And I was just much more relaxed in general, somehow sustaining that wonderful feeling for the whole nine months that things were going to be just fine.

This, despite the fact that since I was almost 38 when she was born, we had a special test at 12 weeks to check for Down Syndrome. And despite the fact that because of a borderline test for diabetes at about 6 months, my doctor put me on a diet as though I had gestational diabetes (I didn't). As a result, until my last week or so, I'd only gained 5 pounds while pregnant. Eh, less weight to lose later.

So things progressed very smoothly, until about 30 weeks or so. Then my doctor said we needed to settle on a method of delivery. Did I want to try VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) or would I want to schedule another c-section. After Allie was born, I attended Mother-Baby classes at the hospital for the whole 12 weeks I was on maternity leave. In my class of other first-time moms, there were an extraordinary number who had also had c-sections, including two who had developed nasty infections afterwards. I read the literature and decided that I still wanted to schedule another c-section. So we settled on Julia's birthdate. And that situation, the fact that we knew upfront that I'd probably have another c-section and so we'd be picking our child's birthdate, is one of the big reasons that we didn't find out the baby's sex ahead of time. When you know the birthdate and the approximate time of delivery, finding out the sex is about the only fun thing left.

I picked July 30, 3 1/2 years to the day from Allie's birthdate. So when Julia turns four, Allie turns 7 1/2. When Allie turns 8, Julia turns 4 1/2. And so on.

On the day of Allie's birth, there was a snowstorm. On the day of Julia's birth, it was hot! When Greg drove to the hospital on Allie's birth day, he missed our exit because he was so distracted and we had to backtrack to the hospital. When Greg drove to the hospital on Julia's birth day, he turned too short on a divided multi-lane street right by the hospital and we drove a block directly towards oncoming traffic before we could turn off. I was calm; Greg, not so much.

We got to the hospital, were assigned a room, and I changed into my lovely hospital attire. Then I got in bed and we waited, and waited. Finally, a nurse came in and we filled out a bunch of paperwork with her. All very calm. Then, another nurse came in (a student, as it happened) and she tried to start an I.V. Two unsuccessful pokes later, the nurse accompanying her tried in a third place. Nope. I was dehydrated since I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since midnight.

OK, fine. Another "more experienced" nurse came in and gave it a whirl, in two more places. Uh uh. My surgery was scheduled to start at 8 and I still didn't have an I.V. Finally, they said the anesthesiologist would put in the I.V. when we got to the operating room. The appointed time came and Greg and I headed downstairs with a nurse in an elevator. I walked, in bare feet. It was summer, I didn't know I'd need socks and I didn't want Greg to have to remember to bring my slippers back up. He was already kind of freaked out.

Greg and I said goodbye so they could prep me and he could get his doctor duds on. In the O.R., the anesthesiologist sniffed when told no one could get an I.V. in. He took out a steel bar, pounded it on the back of my hand (it hurt like hell!) and in a minute flat, I had an I.V. It pays to call in a pro. My doctor and lots of other people were bustling around. Dr. Stoffel herself helped to hold me in the right position for my spinal, then suddenly my feet felt very warm and I was starting to feel numb. The weirdest sensation was from my numb butt.

After a few more preliminaries, Greg was allowed in (we've got this on video). The doctors checked that I was OK and off we went. I felt a lot of tugging and a lot of pressure on my stomach and lower chest, but not any pain. After some slurping noises, the doctor pulled out her head, with lots of dark hair. She didn't look too happy (I've seen the videotape). One more tug and she slid out--it's a girl!

We were a family of four.

Afterwards, I felt much better in the recovery room than I had for Allie's birth. That was kind of a nightmare, but this was kind of special. I was able to hold Julia and because I already knew I wasn't going to try to nurse, we got to feed her instead of having her starve while I tried to get things started. We were back to my room by about 10, after I demonstrated that I could almost wiggle my toes again.

At about 10:30, my in-laws brought Allie to meet her sister for the first time. I was feeling really good, so Allie climbed in bed with me and Julia, and I got to hold both of my girls for the first time together. It was cool. I had such a good feeling overall that I actually stopped using the push-button medication administrator. I didn't need it as long as I didn't wiggle around too much. Julia was born on a Wednesday and we went home on Saturday, after they took out my staples. She didn't develop jaundice, like Allie had, and she was a very good baby, just like Allie.

And now it's been four years and that little baby is long gone. Lately, I've been having baby yearnings again. I don't really want to go down that road again (for one thing, I'm too old!), but I sometimes miss having a little one around. As Greg and I (especially me) said over and over again after Julia's birth, we're so lucky with how our lives have turned out so far, and that we got to do the whole baby thing another time. It's gone so fast.

I know I'm going to blink and Julia's going to be starting second grade (instead of Allie, this year). Then they're going to be in high school together. But I'll always remember when they were born, and they'll always be my babies.

Happy birthday, Julia!

Complete intoxication

In my little garden, in our back yard, are my little plants. They're growing well, actually, but I started so late that they have a long, long way to catch up. When we bought the vegetation, Greg decided to pick out a catnip plant. I've never tried to grow catnip before, but it seemed like it might be fun for our cats.

Of the 20 or so things in the garden, this one catnip plant is doing by far the best. It's really big and flowering and growing like one of the many weeds that my little plot sported until I spent 1 1/2 hours clearing it out last week. By the way, did I mention that it was 1 1/2 hours for a plot that's roughly 5 x 10 feet? But I digress.

Since we haven't had any rain for, oh I don't know, maybe six weeks or so, Greg and I went about our routine of watering last night. I was doing the garden and Greg was in the front of the house. I pointed out how well the catnip was doing and Greg pulled off three or so leaves, to bring inside for the cats.

They. Loved. It. Oh my god. Greg crushed the leaves a little bit to get them interested, which proved to be completely unnecessary. In very short order, they were both rolling, rubbing, stretching, pouncing, rolling, etc. etc. They bit on the leaves, rubbed ecstatically, chewed a little and rolled and rolled. It is a huge understatement to say that they were incredibly happy with these three or four leaves. If we brought the entire plant inside right now, I think we'd kill them both.

They would die happy.

So it's been four whole years

Four years ago, I started writing this blog, after my husband semi-forced me/appealed to my vanity. At first, I wrote only a few times a month, mostly about Julia--her birth, her progress, how Allie was interacting with her. Now, I write about all of us and what we're up to, and usually considerably more frequently than a few times a month. I'm certainly not funny like my husband, but I enjoy having the opportunity to let people (mostly family) know what we're up to. And if I hadn't started writing this blog, I'm not sure we'd have become friends with Dan and Kerry. They're wonderful people, and frankly I love being able to drop into conversation, "our friends in England." You didn't know I was that kind of a snob? Please. Who wouldn't think that was neat.

So for my latest update--what did we do this weekend? Well, it was the release of the last Harry Potter book, which my wonderful husband purchased for me (he took pains to tell me how long he had to wait in line to check out, of course). So I spent all of yesterday afternoon reading, plus yesterday evening and into the night. I finished at 1 a.m., which is as late as I can remember being awake in quite awhile. My opinion? I was happy.

I did get some laundry done and I cleaned all of our upstairs, which necessitated vacuuming vast volumes of very fluffy cat hair. Ick. Our kittens (who are almost a year old now) certainly shed less than our old cats, but their regular wrestling matches have definitely had an impact on dust/hair accumulation. Now that stuff is in the Dyson (vacuum).

The girls went swimming in the neighbors' kiddie pool today, Greg got immense amounts of groceries, I washed a bunch of dishes, and the three of them took a bike ride. A pretty typical summer weekend, really. Very nice, and something that I doubt I'd much remember if it weren't for this blog. So here's to four more years, plus.

Rats!

I missed it! The fourth anniversary of this blog was on July 17th.

That first entry, by the way, was just a segment of an e-mail that I sent my husband, proclaiming the joys of diabetic chocolate. I was pregnant with Julia (very pregnant) and though I didn't develop gestational diabetes, my doctor put me on almost the same diet anyway.

I'll write more tonight, reminiscing. Four years! That's a long time, doncha know.

Extreme dessert

The Food Network has a show called Foot Network Challenge, where chefs compete in making bizarre food items. I've seen pastry chefs do challenges involving blown sugar where some part had to be at least 5 feet tall, the whole thing had to be edible, and they had to move it (after it was finished) over an obstacle course. I've also seen them build wedding cakes unlike any you've ever seen in Wisconsin. A couple of weeks ago, it was a challenge for tappan chefs (like they have at Benihana's) and the competition included judging how funny they were with their "patter." The prize for each competition is $10,000. Not bad for one or two days TV work.

Tonight, they were doing extreme cakes. Most of the chefs came up with something that included fireworks. One made a "Revenge of the Sock Monkey" cake that was literally a five foot sock monkey made of cake with a removable brain made of dry ice and glowing red eyes. That won the $10,000 prize.

Does anyone want to eat these things afterwards? They show people in the audience, watching (for six or eight hours) with bated breath, ready to gasp if one of the sugar sculptures falls over and shatters. Dreams are crushed on this show. But for the winners--ah, the glory.

Anyone want a bite of sock monkey?

It can't be

Tonight, while watching TV after putting the girls to bed, I saw my first ad for Back to School clothes. It was for Sears, which I have to admit would not be my first choice as a place to buy school clothes for Allie. I read something this past week about Sears, that malls no longer want them as an anchor store because they can't get other tenants to want locations in their wing. That's a big change from when I was a kid.

Regardless, I was saddened to see the ad because it seems that Allie has just started her summer break and it's half over, or almost half over. Earlier today, I sat down with her to read a book aloud. That's something we haven't done in probably three weeks. I told her I wanted to make sure she could still read.

She did great, of course. But since second grade is coming ever closer, I think I'd better start working on probability and statistics with her tomorrow night. After all, she's gotta get into a good college in a couple of years.

Trapped!

Last night, I went upstairs to read shortly after the girls went to bed. Greg was watching some show about ComicCon and I didn't need to see that. It was very pleasant in our room with the windows all open and a nice breeze.

I heard Greg close the sliding glass door next to the living room and expected him to come upstairs. Instead, he went downstairs to play video games for awhile.

About 1/2 hour later, he came upstairs and we both got into bed. We were talking and I was dropping off to sleep when we heard a cat meow, seemingly from outside. Greg said, is that one of ours? I thought for a moment and said, no, I fed them before I came upstairs and they both came to eat.

We heard the cat meow again and there was a rattling noise. I said, now that I think about it, I heard a cat meow a few times while I was reading, but I didn't think anything of it. I said, maybe you'd better check.

Greg headed downstairs, and I heard the slider open and close. When he returned, I said, my god, tell me one of the cats wasn't outside! He said, No. Dumbass was stuck between the door and the screen door.

For at least 1/2 hour. He could have been out there all night, trapped in a four-inch wide space, if we hadn't had the windows open upstairs.

Stupid cat.

The cats will play

4:10. That's what time it was this morning when my daughter called me. Why can't my children ever call for Daddy? No, there's something instinctual that upon waking makes them yell my name, not Daddy's.

I stumble down the hall and figure out it's Allie this time. I go into her room and she says, Rabies is chewing on something by my bookcase. Rabies is long gone, of course, so I ask her what she wants me to do. Allie says, make him stop. I say, he already stopped, as I feel around the floor trying to see if there's anything there that a cat would find chewable. Of course, I don't have my glasses on and it's not really light out yet, so this is a useless endeavor.

Allie hops out of bed and joins me in checking the floor. She doesn't need to wear glasses, so I guess she can see a little better than me. I tell her, Allie, I don't know what he's doing but if he starts doing it again, throw something at him. She determines that she can throw one of her dolls and I leave.

Of course, the chances that I'd be able to get back to sleep until my alarm at 5:30 are pretty minimal, especially since both cats then come into our room and start chewing on something near the door. I put a hand on Greg's arm (he's slept through all of this, of course) and he awakens with a roar of WHAT? I tell him to throw one of his three pillows at the cat and he does so. The cats go tearing down the hall. There's a pile of books stacked near the door that fall over, then there's quiet in the house at last.

I didn't go back to sleep, of course. Damn cats.

Want that

When I was a kid, my sisters and I played with some neighbor girls who were almost the same age as us. They had a pool table in their basement.

We were very envious of that pool table, mostly because we could almost never talk them into playing a game with us. It seemed indecent that kids who so obviously didn't care that they had a pool table, had a pool table available any time they wanted it.

This same family were also the first people we knew of who got Pong. Remember Pong? It came out, according to Wikipedia, in 1975. We would all gather around the TV, desperately wanting to be the ones with the controllers in our hands, actually playing games of Pong, instead of watching the other kids play Pong. We had to try to be good friends. Good friends didn't complain when their friends wanted to play first (or more) and good friends were OK when their friends wanted to move on and play something else. We wanted our own Pong machine.

It was almost a physical yearning and it seemed so unfair. Remember that kind of envy?

Best. Invention. Ever.

Air conditioning.

The air conditioning at work went out today. It was 84 degrees for most of the day in my office. No fan, no air movement, just warm, warm air and warm office machinery.

I was so glad to get out of there, I can't begin to tell you.

It was a truck fire

Greg's blog indicated that we went to Anika's birthday party yesterday, and that was one of the fun parts of the day. One of the completely not fun parts of the day was when it took us 4 hours and 15 minutes to drive a distance that should have taken us about 2 hours and 15 minutes. The other not fun part was when we walked back to the hotel from the restaurant (with the girls, of course) at 9:30 p.m. or so and we saw a scary crazy person. I know, I shouldn't label people as crazy, but this guy was wearing hospital scrubs and still had identification bracelets around both of his wrists. His behavior was abnormal, and he was standing on the sidewalk, right in the direction we needed to go. Fortunately, his attention was drawn by a man parking a car on the street and we passed behind him, then booked down the block. He followed us for a minute or so and then disappeared.

As for that other not fun thing, the trip down, oh my. We got about 35 minutes into our journey when the traffic on the interstate came to a complete halt. I hate when that happens. We did the stop-and-go thing for awhile and then got to Beloit, where the state troopers forced everyone off the road. They closed the interstate. We've been through this before, unfortunately, so we knew what would happen next. The traffic was forced east (which is actually the direction we needed to go), but it was northeast, which wasn't that great. The police blocked the turnarounds and they blocked several exits on the detoured route, so we had to keep going northeast. And the state highway that we were detoured to the last time this happened was, itself, detoured for road construction.

Are you starting to get a feel for how hopeless this situation felt?

We ended up heading south and east eventually, on a two-lane highway through small towns that were completely unprepared to deal with all the traffic (both directions) from a very busy section of interstate. After an unfortunate map reading error, we eventually got back onto the interstate heading towards Chicago. It just took us two extra hours. The actual interstate closure was caused by a truck that had a tire shred and start on fire. The truck was carrying ethyl alcohol, and though it didn't explode, it did burn. The driver wasn't hurt.

The girls were very good, we got there eventually and had a great time at the party, and the rest of our weekend was pretty darn pleasant. We're just glad to be home. Next weekend, we're planning on staying in our own bed. Our new-decorative-bedcover-compliments-of-(Don't-you-love)-IKEA bed, thank you very much.

Late agua

I don't know what it is. I drink some water during the day at work. I often drink water with dinner. But I don't drink enough water each day--not as much as the health police tell me I should.

So I guess that's why, in the evening about the time we tell the girls to get into their pajamas but before they actually have to go to bed, I get thirsty. I get a large glass out of water with lots of ice and I start drinking. It's not just me, either. Greg does the same thing, so we'll share the same glass. Then we go back and forth, debating over whose turn it is to get up and refill the glass from the refrigerator.

Greg drinks more than I do, and then he chews the ice cubes. If I get thirsty more after he starts that, I get another glass. Now if I could stop snacking when I'm drinking my water, I'd be doing something good for myself.

I delude myself that at least I'm doing it halfway right!

Tomato envy

I took a look at my Dad's tomato bushes this weekend. Then I surveyed by sister Pam's tomatoes, and lastly I took a gander at my sister Claudette's tomatoes.

I would like to have any one of theirs. I think my largest tomato plant is about nine or ten inches high. The plants that my family have were probably that height about six to seven weeks ago.

I don't even like tomatoes, unless they're in sauce, and yet I have severe tomato envy. If any of them find a neat hole dug where a tomato bush used to be, I'll try to look innocent.

Weekend spent

My family went to visit my family this weekend. We left on Friday after work and arrived about 8:45 p.m., to be greeted by almost my whole family (poor Mike). The next morning, the group of us went to Bay Beach Amusement Park in Green Bay. After hours of carnival rides, arm painting, picnicking, and more rides, we headed to an amazing fireworks store where my husband selected a large amount of blatantly illegal rockets-red-glare.

It's not illegal to sell these babies, by the way, just illegal to set them off. Yet set them off we did, or started to, at a bonfire at my sister's house later last night. The festivities will continue this evening, and tomorrow, and the next night, until we actually reach the holiday.

Well, it's only supposed to be about a $110 fine for lighting these things. That's about how much my husband, the firestarter, spent on the actual products, so that seems fair.

A Thursday night

The girls are in the upstairs hall bathroom, playing "Showtime" with the curtain in the shower. Allie seems to be getting the most applause, not surprising since she makes the most noise overall.

They have Rabies trapped in there with them, and they've been opening and slamming the cabinet drawers. If I'm going to prevent a recurrence of the infamous cabinet drawer incident, I guess I'm going to have to get up and rescue him.

The girls have now come out on their own, and they're playing on top of my bed. Pretending to be ghosts with my top sheet, despite my warnings about falling off the bed or pulling the sheet out, which would seriously tick me off since I have a headache and my nose hurts.

Now they're pretending that they're flying in clouds (under the sheet). All of Daddy's pillows are too tempting of a target, so they're jumping into that pile too.

Watching them play (and not fight) is heartwarming and sweet and all that, but I can't help wishing that they'd clear out so I can try to go to sleep. I hate being sick.

Isn't this what it's like?

I feel that if I take a deep breath, I'm immediately going to have to cough. It hurts when I swallow, like I accidentally got some glass down there. I feel like there's a short fat kid sitting in the middle of my chest. My head feels like it has a steel band around it. My nose is mostly stuffed up, at least where it isn't running. I know by tomorrow or the day after, the bottom of my nose is going to be bright red and sore from wiping so much. My lips are going to get chapped from having to breathe with my mouth open while I sleep.

Gee, only 6-9 more days to be sick with this cold.

The everlasting germ and other headaches

Almost two weeks ago, Allie got a nasty cold from a boy at daycare. It took a long time for Julia to get it, really until this past Friday. About the same time, Greg started getting symptoms too. And now today, Tuesday, I have that horrible feeling that you get in your nose and throat when you know you're getting sick. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

I also had a pretty unpleasant visit with the dentist today. Though I'm having no problems at all, as a new patient with this dentist, I have two other appointments to go. They're doing an extraordinary level of examination, checking for TMJ and proper bite and periodontal disease and oral cancer. I'm not usually too paranoid about going to the dentist, but they took 18 separate x-rays today (yes, you read that right), then poked hard around each of my teeth repeatedly with a probe (boy howdy, was that fun) and then cleaned my teeth.

I have a headache. Not a particularly good day.

Because he said he'd have me

I love watching TV with my husband above all others. That's because only with him can I be absolutely as contemptuous and scathing as I like about stupid people on various shows. He understands, echoes and expands on my comments, and doesn't believe I'm a horrible person in the end. What more could you ask.

Tonight we were watching House Hunters, a show where people do nothing but look at houses for sale and then buy one (it's surprisingly addictive, trust me). The woman of the couple was not very bright. She was a student, and one of the things on their wish list was an area for her to study.

They visited a house that had nice built in cabinets and a built in desk in one room. She walked up to the desk and said, "These built-ins are nice, I could use this one as a desk!" Gosh, you know, I bet that would work out really well, since it was a desk.

Then they saw a small dining room. The husband said, "Kind of a small room." She said, "Not too small for a table and chairs!" Wow, a table and chairs. What a great sense of how best to use a space this woman has.

She was also a real estate agent herself, but they used a real estate agent to find a house. OK, isn't that kind of the whole point of that career, being able to find a great house when you want one?

They live in the Baltimore area. I'm glad they're out there and I'm here. That way, the chances that I'll meet her someday in person and tell her that I'm sorry she's stupid are much lower.

And yes, I've been on TV twice and both times I was OK with how I came across (other than how my voice sounded). Have you ever been on TV and what did you think of your appearance?

It's over

Today, I put in my garden. Yes, I fully recognize that it's more than a month late. Yes, I know that area nurseries are pretty much giving away what's left of their straggly, leggy plants. Yes, it really didn't take that long to do.

Regardless, it's done and the pitiful plants are in the ground. Now they'd better get goddamn busy growing. I want tomatoes in two weeks so Greg can make salsa.

Deadly

We were discussing what to have for dinner tonight. Julia is coming down sick and she never eats anything when she's ill, so I was resolved to give her something she really likes to improve her nutrition chances.

I offered chicken nuggets. Greg suggested spaghetti. Allie said she wanted chicken nuggets. I suggested chicken nuggets and spaghetti. Julia said she just wanted spaghetti. Greg said he would make chicken breasts on the grill for himself and Allie. Allie whined that she wanted chicken nuggets.

Greg said, it's the same thing! Allie said, it's not the same! Greg said, the only difference is the breading. That breading will kill you. Allie looked doubtful and worried.

I made like a zombie and proceeded to try to strangle Greg, saying, I'm the breading and I'm going to kill you. Allie laughed. She got chicken nuggets and spaghetti for dinner. The kids won again.

Do you have a plan?

I was listening to the radio on the way home tonight and an author was talking about Hillary Rodham Clinton. Apparently, when Hillary agreed to marry Bill, the two of them made a pact. They came up with a twenty year plan that would result in Bill becoming President of the United States. Later, after Bill had actually become president, they came up with a new pact that said, 8 years for Bill, then 8 years for Hillary. Right now, they're working on this second part of the pact.

I think this is amazing. At the time, apparently in the mid-70s, Hillary was about 28 years old. I didn't look it up, but I would assume that Bill was a couple of years older. When I was 28 years old, I was planning nothing more than decorating the condo I'd just bought.

If you're older than 28, did you have a plan then? Do you have a plan now?