Chapter 1: Less Than Mind-Bloggeling Thoughts

A Long Overdue Zachary Update

2011-08-02T13:11:00.000-07:00

Where to begin?

It’s been awhile since my last update. Just wanted to post the latest Zach Stats since he’s now 2 ½ and growing and talking and talking and growing more and more each month.

Height: 37 inches (75%tile)
Weight: 29 lbs (50%tile)

Zach was so good at his latest check-up. The few times before, he just did not want anything to do with anyone at the doctor’s office. It was a battle to weigh him, measure him, poke him, prod him… He responded better to the shots than to the actual check-up the last few times.

This time, he was so laid back and easy going and let Dr. Jill do her thing. This was a shot-free visit, too. Maybe he sensed that :-D

I’m amazed at the progress toddlers make in their speech – so quickly. Zach has always been chatty and talking – but it seems like even from age 2 to 2 ½, the sentence patterns are now complete, and we feel as if we’re talking with a little adult. It’s like you forget sometimes he’s only 2 ½. (Other times, like when he does not want to leave the local splash park and he puts up a fight, you remember – heh heh).

Of course, it’s so hard to track everything he says, but some examples are as follows:

“I want some water. I want some COLD water.” (He’s very particular about having his drinks chilled).
“Remember at the water park, I got my hair all wet? Remember I fell in the water? Remember I cried?”
“I want some meat balls.” (Or whatever food he has a hankering for – it’s so fun now that he can ask for the foods he wants).
“Mama, you have to go back to work?” (One time he walked me to the door and told me to go go go…haha.)
“Mama, I missed you sooo much!” (Or “Mama/dada, I love you so much!”)

My dad (papa) recently had knee surgery. When I asked Zach what happened, he said, “Papa broke his leg.” I then asked, “and what did the doctors do?” Zach: “They fixed it.” Me: “And where is papa?” Zach: “At the hospital.”

So just stuff like that.

He’s also reading and writing now – just kidding – but he does know that “D-A-D spells DAD” (thank you, Barney videos).

He’s got a memory like a steel trap (how cliché am I). He’ll remind me of things that we did/saw months and months ago – sometimes things from last year. It’s amazing how much information these (big) little minds hold!

Zach continues to love love love music. He sings very well – in tune. Has perfect rhythm when he dances/claps. When he dances, he likes to tell us, “I’m dancing.” Then he shakes his booty a bit for us. It’s so cute/funny to watch.

His musical tastes include classical (particularly Vivaldi and Beethoven b/c that’s what his toy caterpillar plays when you push the appropriate buttons), Rihanna (she’s his first love), Selena Gomez, AC/DC (or any rock when we play it for the most part), Barney songs/kiddie songs, and lately, Sara Brightman (he’s entranced with long hair – and she certainly has a lot of it).

On a side note, check out the video of Jackie Evancho and Sara Brightman singing “Time To Say Goodbye” on YouTube. Jackie Evancho is this singing sensation from Pittsburgh, PA – discovered on “America’s Got Talent”. Ten years old and she sounds as mature and polished and beautiful as Sara Brightman.

Back to Zach.

Eating habits – still picky. Still a toddler. Some days he’ll eat very well (especially when he’s with Nomma and Papa). Other days, he grazes. He likes Ramon Noodle soup, pasta, ice cream cones, potato chips, chicken nuggets, French fries, carrots, pretzels, cookies, etc. etc. So he’s got a wide array of foods he’ll eat – he just doesn’t eat a lot very often.

He’s not big on drinking milk right now. Maybe b/c it’s summer and it’s hot. He loves ice water. Recently, we started to let him have a little ginger ale b/c he seems intrigued when we drink “pop”. He drinks fruit punch once in awhile (not often). He’ll drink a little juice here and there – but his main focus is water.

Temper-wise: He’s very even-tempered in general, but he does have his moments. I can take him shopping with me and he holds my hand and walks through the store with me without running away (which is something he would do months earlier – off he goes… and the chase is on!). He likes to drive the little cars attached to some of the shopping carts when we go to the grocery store. Usually. There have been times when he curls up his legs and wraps them around my body like a monkey and refuses to go into the cart: “No! No! No! I go DOWN! I walk!”

We take walks to the local CVS and he stays by my side – mostly. Sometimes, I do have to pick up the pace b/c he likes to go “faster! Faster! Faster!”

He had his first visit to a local water park and he had a blast! He was such a good boy the whole time. He particularly enjoyed the pseudo-geysers that pop out of the pavement. He has no problem getting water in his face, on his head, on his body (but he makes me do the same. I have to be an active water-buddy-participant). He did fall face first in one of the wading pools – which made him cry. He had a life jacket on, so he popped up quickly, but I think the incident scared him. I grabbed him very quickly, but it took a few minutes for him to calm down. Then he said, “I’m all better now.”

When it was time to go, he was so tired that he just wanted me to hold him as we walked to the car. It was a bit of a trek, so here I was, carrying almost 30 lbs of Zach and a diaper bag, in flip flops…asking Zach, “are you sure you don’t want to walk and hold my hand?” :-D

Since we had such a positive experience, I took him to a smaller splash park in the area on Saturday. Again, he had a blast, but the exit was not so smooth. I tried to work him out of the park with a popsicle and promises of going to Wendy’s, but we had to walk past a pseudo-geyser to get out of the park, and that ended the calm exit. “Water! More water!”

So once again, I had to carry almost 30-pounds of Zach out of the park, but this time he was pushing away from me, pulling on my lips as if they were taffy, and doinking me over the head with his troll (more to come on troll). Luckily, the parking lot was much closer, so it was all of a one-minute battle, and he fell asleep on the way home. The next day, he said, “Remember I cried?” Why yes, yes I did – because you were screaming to the heavens for more water. “Remember I hit you?” Funny you should mention it because yes… yes I do. I’ve never been beat with a naked, scalped troll before.

Like I said, he has his moments ;-)

Ok – Troll. And Mr. Moppy. And Angel Dolly.

For a long, long time, Zach did not have a “lovey” as his pediatrician called it. Once he turned 2, he started to take notice of his stuffed toys and “Angel Dolly”. I bought Angel Dolly at a local Marcs for less than $5. She sat on our Christmas tree. She has long blonde hair, wings, and a pretty little angel dress. Well, she had those things. Zach took a liking to her because he loves long hair. We play this game called “Blow To The Wind” where we have to dump Angel Dolly upside down and watch the air conditioner (or a fan) blow her hair. Sometimes, he demands, “You dump your hair” – so I have to turn my head upside down and let my hair “blow to the wind.”

Angel Dolly has also taken many baths and had her hair blown dry with our blow dryer – so now Angel Dolly is naked and her hair is all gnarly and half-melted. You can’t get a comb through it without causing her pain (if dollys can feel pain).

She will no longer be part of our Christmas Tree décor unless we give her a full makeover.

Enter Mr. Moppy. Mr. Moppy is, literally, the head of an old mop my dad had. My dad (the ad-lib toymaker that he is), cut most of the stick off of Mr. Moppy and gave Zach the mop-head with about 6 inches of stick attached. My mom drew eyes on Mr. Moppy and dubbed him Mr. Moppy. However, Mr. Moppy is stinky. He’s old. He’s dirty. We tried giving him a bath outside in the pool and sprinkler. I scrubbed him down with Irish Spring body wash, but a rain storm got Mr. Moppy and made him even more stinky. So Mr. Moppy was not allowed to set foot inside our house.

Oh did that make Mr. Zachee angry and sad. “Bring Mr. Moppy inside? Bring Mr. Moppy inside? Bring Mr. Moppy inside?” I had to explain that Stinky Moppy stays outside, and we would buy Zach a new moppy. From time to time, we’d hear Zach mutter, “Mr. Moppy is all stinky. He stays outside. Don’t bring Mr. Moppy inside. We’ll buy me a new moppy.”

It got to the point where we had to hide Mr. Moppy at papa’s house, and now I’ve told Zach that Mr. Moppy has gone to Europe on vacation. He is MIA. He has flown the coop. He has moved.

SO, being the daughter of an ad-lib toymaker, I bought some thick yarn at Walmart and cut strands and strands of it, tied it together, and lo and behold, we have a NEW AND CLEAN MR. MOPPY! However, not being a toy-making professional, Zach has managed to pull strands of thread out of my concoction, so this leads me to make many mini-moppies for him. Our house is infested. It’s like a moppy convention. They have multiplied like guppies. Moppies, moppies everywhere (I even invented a song about Mr. Moppy). I’m thinking of marketing these creatures.

“Oh Mr Moppy, you are so floppy, oh Mr. Moppy, you’re my best friennnnnnd…. Oh Mr. Moppy, sometimes you’re soppy, but Mr. Moppy, you’re my best friend!”

Anyways, this leads me to Scalped, Naked Troll. Zach also took a liking to some trolls I’ve had forever – again, he’s obsessed with the troll-hair that stands on end (think of Heat Miser from “A Year Without A Santa Claus”). Well, Halloween troll went swimming with us one day, and perhaps the water loosened the glue that held his hair to his head, because lo and behold, the hair/head fell off. Trolls are hollow inside, so Zach says Troll now looks like an ice cream cone (“Ice Cream Cone Troll”). Well, my boy can’t have a hairless/scalpless troll, so I took one of the mini moppies and stuffed it into Troll’s head. Wa la. “Troll has long hair, like Dolly,” says Zach.

Troll now travels everywhere with us. You should have seen the look of horror on this little girl’s face at the splash park as she eye-balled my son with Scalpless Troll in one hand, mini-moppy-hair in another: “What IS THAT THING?”

That, my dear girl, is art. That is the latest in innovative toy-making, brought to you by Mom, Inc.

So Zach now has a lovey, or two, or three.

What else?

Zach still naps in his crib. He hasn’t tried to climb out (phew!). I’m surprised b/c he climbs onto/over everything else. He sure jumps in his crib. He’s my little Tigger. Sometimes the crib is about a foot from the wall when we go to get him.

At night, he mostly sleeps by my side on the big bed. Yes – we will have to deal with transitioning him to a toddler bed soon – and I’m sure there will be a battle of the wills – but right now, he sleeps through the night, which means I sleep through the night, which means DH sleeps through the night, and all is good. I move him to his crib in the morning and he sleeps a little longer. It’s just the routine we established months and months ago – and it still works for us.

Potty training – we haven’t really done much with this yet. I’ve bought him his own little potty seat – the kind that goes over the toilet. He likes to climb up and down on his step stool and sit on the potty – but whenever I remove his diaper and explain how to point the wee wee down and pee, he doesn’t pee. Instead, he makes me remove all his clothing until he’s “Naked Boy”. Yes – we even have to remove his socks. One time, he said, “Now mama get naked.” That was the end of that game.

The one time I let him run around the house without his diaper, he came to me (I was in the kitchen) and said, “Mama, I went poo poo.” Visions of poo poo on my couch raced through my head. I asked where, and he took me by the hand, pointed to the floor, and here, he had gone pee pee on the floor. I gave him a high five, told him next time he can go on the potty, and cleaned it up. So he’s aware of his bodily functions. He just hasn’t really shown an overabundance of interest in potty training yet, so we’re not going to push the issue. I figure when he’s ready, he’ll let us know. It was like the whole self-feeding thing. Zach was just about a year when he FINALLY put a cheesy puff in his mouth by himself. He does things on his own time. He’s too busy saying words like “rehabilitation” or “octagon” or singing Rihanna songs (“oh na na, what’s my name”) or Beyonce songs (“to the left, to the left, everything you own’s in a box to the left…”) ;-D

And on that note, Happy Summer To All!

Happy First Birthday, Zachary

2009-12-30T12:13:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday, dear Zachary.... Happy Birthday to you!

Let me state the obvious and shout, "I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW FAST THIS YEAR HAS FLOWN BY!"

Now that I have that out, just wanted to write a "brief" recap about my little guy in honor of his first birthday.

A year ago today, at 11:30am, Dale and I waddled into the hospital (well, Dale walked...I waddled), for my 1pm scheduled C-section. As I sat hooked up on a monitor waiting for the extraction to begin, I remember feeling so excited and nervous (what else is there to feel)! The time had come to finally meet that little guy whose feet, face, and organs we had viewed on screen via ultrasound.

As the clock ticked past 1pm and the nurse told me that my obgyn was delivering another baby (you know...one of those "natural....can't hold baby in any longer" situations), I panicked and told Dale, "But... but.... we're supposed to be done by now! It's MY turn! What if the other lady's in labor and pushing for hours!" How dare someone go natural during my scheduled C! As pee mounted in my bladder, I remember unhooking myself from the monitoring device instead of calling the nurse....which led her to come running in the room to find out what happened on the heart monitor (gee - so THAT'S what the nurses are watching from the nursing stations). Based on my hundred other visits to the bathroom, she smiled and said, "I had a feeling that's where you went."

Finally, at 1:45pm, I was rolled in, given the spinal (minor "ouch"), felt my legs go numb, was laid back, and the medical equivalent of a Nascar Pit Crew put a sheet up between me and the cutting crew. Time to make that first incision. But where was Dale? They had not brought him in the room yet, and my doctor started to cut! I called out, "Wait! My husband's not here yet!" Within minutes, Dale was walked in and told, "Don't look!" Of course, he said he glanced over and it looked pretty messy, but after that, all messiness was a blurry memory, and at 2:04pm, we heard Zach's beautiful cry.... he was lifted above the sheet ala "The Lion King", and we both broke into tears as Dale said, "Oh my God!"

(And yes... I'm feeling a little verclemped!)

I mean, everything is so clear in my mind... my 8lb 6oz 21.5 inch perfect baby boy! (I also remember trying to move my legs in the recovery room just because I couldn't - from the spinal.... and I kept thinking of Uma Thurman's line from "Kill Bill": "Wiggle your big toe.". I could not wiggle my toes nor move my legs....despite my attempts...but it kept me occupied until they brought Zach to me so I could hold him for the first time.

So here we are.... a year later, and as much as people told me, "You won't BELIEVE how much a baby changes and grows in the first few years and how fast it goes", boy are they right!

From his belly laughs which started around 6 weeks, to his lifting his head like a little turtle during tummy time, and staring at Dale and me while we sat on the couch, his little head barely lifted above the edge of the mat on which he lay... to his belly push-ups.... to balancing on his knees....to his crawling (about 8 months - here comes Speed Racer)...to his first stumbly steps (10 months - forget cruising - I'm just gonna walk!) to his walking like a pro at 11 months.... to his running around his crib last night while I chased him.... as he giggled continuously.... to his babbling and talking ("hot! hot! hot! BAAAAYYYYY BEEEE.... HIIII EEEE! Clock! Clock! Fisssshhhh! Da da da! Up! Up! Mamamama! Ba ba ba!")... to his playing peek-a-boo (especially with dada)....I love every minute!

I love watching him play with his toys....watching him as he figures out how to push balls through the holes in this one contraption he has.... laughing and babbling as they roll back out.... then trying to fit his blocks in the same holes....it's a hoot.

I love how he tries to test me with his wicked grin. Lately, he's been trying to touch my cell phone charger. It's become a game now. He'll point at it and get his finger closer and closer as I say, "No. No. NO!" He tries three times in a row - smiles - and then he walks away from it, only to return again to try once more.

I love his charming smiles and grins. He has millions of those to give. And boy does he give those liberally! I love his hugs - especially when I get home from work and he hasn't seen me all day. He literally squeezes me as I hold him and jumps up and down in my arms - squealing and smiling! About a week ago, I was in his play area with him, on my knees, facing out and talking to Dale. All of a sudden I felt these tiny arms around me, felt a squeeze, and heard a loud "eeeeeeeeeeeeee!" He gave me a bear hug!

AND... I got my first official kisses from him on Christmas Day! I mean, of course I steal kisses from him all the time, but on Christmas Eve, he started giving my sister's mother-in-law kisses on his own - lips to her face - no initiation from her... we all got the biggest kick out of that. Well, come Christmas Day, he starts kissing the baby on the box of this toy my sister gave him, and when I picked him up, he started smacking his lips against my cheek, my nose, and my mouth! I love those wet baby kisses! Of course, he hasn't done it since, but hey - I'll take what I can get - and what better day than Christmas day to get one!

Zach is such a good boy overall. Now, that's not to say he's temper-free. (He's Italian - a temper goes with the territory. An Italian without a temper is like... well... a non-Italian). And Zach does have a temper, let me tell you! We sometimes egg him on (bad mommy and daddy). For example, when he's tired and wants attention and we're eating dinner, he yells at us and pushes his little fists towards us and lets out a red-faced scream until we come get him. Sometimes, if we try to put a cookie in his mouth when he's in this mood, he smacks it away. So we keep offering the cookie. 101 Ways To Annoy Your Kid And Have Fun Doing It.

Food-wise, Zach drinks about 21 oz a day on average (ranges from 18-24 oz depending on the day). The most he'll drink at one sitting is 5 oz. Usually, he has smaller-more-frequent meals throughout the day (perhaps he heard that it's good for the digestion). When he's done, he pushes that bottle away. I'm impressed at how controlled babies are with their appetites. If only I could be like that. Me.... I'll keep eating and eating until my plate is clean... and then eat some more (although last year at this time, I weighed about 55 pounds more - me pats myself on the back...end - ahem).

As far as baby food, he'll eat approximately 3 jars a day - some days he has cereal in place of a jar - or yogurt. It just depends (on what mommy or daddy feel like feeding him). And he still favors the fruits. Forget those baby meats - he gags on the smell alone. Who invented those horrid meals! Do they have any taste buds!?!

He had pizza for the first time a few weeks ago and loved it (meaning he almost attacked me and climbed up my leg to get more). He kept opening his mouth even when he had some in his mouth already! We don't give him much "adult food" yet, but we're starting to introduce different things. He seems to like everything we've offered. Oh - and I love the way he chews - he looks like a little old man as he munches away (he has 7 teeth - 3 on top and 4 on the bottom).

Next up: Milk and a Sippy Cup. (Hard to believe we won't be buying formula much longer)! The Sippy Cup is a toy to him right now. The other day I demoed to him how to drink from it (thinking if he imitated my carrot-eating, he might imitate my cup-drinking), but this led to a game whereby he would put the cup to MY lips over and over and giggle.

There is so much to write about! And speaking of writing, Zach wrote his first book! Just kidding - but he did draw his first 'picture' on Christmas day with a crayon. He walked around holding it (reminded me of Harold and his purple crayon... but Zach's was blue), and then he put it to paper (and to my dad's patio door...and to the kitchen floor...and back to the paper). But the funny thing was, he held the crayon the way you're supposed to! Between his forefinger and thumb - not clenched in his fist as you would expect of someone so small. I think if you stare at the drawing long enough, you'll solve the mystery of the Sphynx!

I guess I'll sum it up (geez - FINALLY, Joanne) by stating that he has such personality! It's as if he knows how cute he is... and how funny he is! Yesterday, in his gated area, he kept crouching down to play peek-a-boo with us - and we'd say, "where is Zachee? Where did he go?" Then he'd pop up and giggle like a hyena! The funny thing is.... you could see him throught the gates the whole time, and he could see us.

I know I'm going to post this and say, "Drats! I meant o mention this" or "I forgot to mention that!" I need a tape and video recorder 24x7 to capture it all!

Anyways, Happy First Birthday, Zacharoo! You're a beautiful and funny boy, and when you learn to talk even more, please tell me what is it about my singing of the Alphabet Song that makes you smile and chuckle. And why do you giggle so much at night when I dance with you and sing "This Old Man" (it's my singing, isn't it). And what it is about sucking on strands of my hair at night that you find so soothing, and why do you frantically clamber towards my head and pull on it - practically ripping it out - when I yank it out of your mouth!

We love you SO much!

Bubbles

2009-10-06T13:34:00.003-07:00

My mom taught Zach all about bubbles when he was a wee lad of about 4 months. She said she probably shouldn't do this (after all, it's not very ladylike), but she introduced him to - yes - spit bubbles.

Fast forward 5 months.

Every time I say the word "bubbles" now, Zach stops whatever he's doing, stares at my mouth, forms Cheerio lips, and says "oh". And he will stare and stare and stare until a bubble comes out of my mouth.

Well, normally, I only do bubbles with gum, which Zach finds intriguing. But, alas, yesterday, I found myself without gum, and I found myself in need of trying something new to entertain Zach.

So, yes, I resorted to the Spit Bubble (me hangs my ladylike head in shame).

BOY did he laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And giggle. And giggle. And laugh. And laugh. Belly laughs galore - as if he had a million of them stored up for the winter and was letting half a million loose.

The more I blew, the harder he laughed. And the harder he tried to "catch" one on my lips.
After about 20 minutes of this (I think my spit supply actually ran dry), I stopped, much to his dismay. He pulled himself up to face level (I was sitting, of course) by grabbing my shirt in both hands, formed the Cheerio mouth, and gave an insistant "OH!"

"Mommy has no spit left, Sir Zachary. The supply has run dry. It only refills overnight."

"OH!"

"Mommy's lips are dry, Prince Zacharoo. If I blow any more spit bubbles, those lips will fall off and I won't be able to blow any tomorrow."

"OH! OH!"

"Um... bubbles can only be blown midday - and it's 20 minutes past midday."

"OH! OH! OH!"

His face got closer to mine...his grip tightened on my shoulders...his tiny fingers probed my mouth, in search of bubbles.

So I succumbed and started the Bubble Factory again. Giggle. Giggle. Belly Laugh.

Fast forward to night time (well, 2am).

Zach was having one his nights whereby he half-awakens...sits up in his crib...and cries out until Dale or I pick him up.

So I laid Zach on the big bed with me, with hopes that he'd drift off to dreamland again, but he still fussed. So I whisper, "Zacheeeee....BUBBLES!"

Suddenly, his eyes open wide, he stares at my mouth, and smiles. So here I was... at 2am....blowing more spit bubbles (quite the visual, eh).

Regardless, I must say...this technique helped during his 9 month wellcheck as well because at one point, he would not let the nice pediatrician listen to his heart. He kept moving his arms and trying to grab the stethoscope. So I gave the "Bubbles" war cry - and sure enough - he was drawn to my lips the way a sailor is drawn to a mermaid's song.

Who needs toys!

Bubbles

2009-10-06T13:34:00.001-07:00

[IMG]http://i531.photobucket.com/albums/dd358/jokeel/z.jpg[/IMG]

Happy 7 Months, Zachary!

2009-07-30T06:07:00.000-07:00

Happy 7 months to my little prince!

I love you so much!

I love how you...

sleep with your little bum in the air, all curled up like a bug in a rug

stare up at me with those big eyes and long lashes - especially at night when I sing the lullabye song to you - in the dark - you and me lying on the big bed - your little face only inches from mine - so serious as you peer into my eyes and stare at my mouth

sometimes stick your fingers in my mouth as I'm singing, as if you're trying to catch the words in your hand (or perhaps your practicing to be a dentist as you yank on my bottom teeth. Regardless, I love it!)

belly laugh when I wiggle my hair, my fingers or my toes in your face; when I talk in a high, squeaky voice to you; when daddy's kisses your belly and toes, when daddy plays airplane with you; when daddy or I do anything silly

bounce up and down in my arms and smile and shriek when I sing the alphabet song (or any song for that matter, to include my attempts at rapping)

open your mouth like a baby bird for more baby food or cereal when you're hungry...sometimes grabbing the spoon out of my hand as you try to feed yourself...or touch the cereal and get it all over your fingers as I attempt to pry the spoon out of your hands - what a strong grip you have!
make loud raspberries and gargling noises and screams ... just because

yell out angrily when we're not paying attention to you - and then a big smile erupts on your face when we look at you

grin with your mouth closed at times - you look so mischievous

rub your eyes when you're tired and burrow your head into my neck while sucking your thumb as you begin to drift off to sleep

grab at everything, including my glasses, beer bottles, my hair, daddy's hair, daddy's foot, and yes, your wee wee

observe everything - nothing gets passed your line of vision

pull your bottle to your mouth when you're extremely hungry

jump up and down in my arms when we dance - squealing with delight

get excited to see me and daddy, and when when we pick you up, you give us bear hugs

roll, scoot, and move all around

sing and babble and coo

pull on the string of the Mother's Day balloon you and daddy bought me (which is still inflated after all this time) and bop the balloon up and down in your face, laughing

play in your exersaucer, touching and feeling every toy, inspecting every angle while babbling to yourself

laugh while you watch cartoons

smile every time i put the camera to your face

smile at videos and pictures of yourself

smile at everyone

fill me and daddy with so much love and bring us so much joy that we could cry happy tears every time we look at your angelic face.

I could go on and on and on with all the things you do that I love... because I love everything about you!

Happy 7 months, Zachary Adam Keel - you are truly the love of our lives!

First Crib Nap

2009-01-28T12:20:00.000-08:00

Zach took his first nap in his crib He's been sleeping in his bassinet at night, but I thought I'd lay him in his crib (inside this secure sleeper thingamajig) because he seems very content in his room, and wa la...he fell asleep for a few hours!

The funny thing is...whenever we take a field trip to his room, he gets transfixed by the ceiling fan! It's not even on - but as soon as we walk into the nursery, his eyes immediately focus upward, and he just stares and stares at this fan! I have no idea what's so intriguing about it (is he seeing angels playing on the ceiling? aliens? another dimension?)! All these super cool stuffed toys and rattles and the kid likes the ceiling fan. He'll be very easy to please come Christmas time.

On a good note, since he was so focused on the fan (and thus the ceiling), I, too, focused on it, and I noticed a crack in our ceiling that wasn't there before, so I told Dale about it and he will have to fix it (may have been caused by the cold weather - who knows). So little Zach helped us identify a home improvement project

Zach turned 4 weeks yesterday. His milestones are that he can really hold his head up during tummy time (in addition to falling asleep), and he can now find his binky at times on his own when it falls out of his mouth during Tummy Time. In addition, he's really got some smiles on him! Just today he was practically laughing as Dale tickled his chin and talked to him - more than we've ever seen, and this morning when I wiped his bottom with a warm cloth, he grinned and grinned (who doesn't like their bottom wiped with a warm cloth)!

Oh - and Zach can operate the snow blower now - which is a good thing - especially on a day like today!

Zach - the Birth Story

2009-01-11T07:51:00.000-08:00

Dec 30, 2008
2:04pm
8 lbs 6 oz
21.5 inches

We arrived at the hospital around 11 a.m. and headed to Labor & Delivery. I was led to the recovery room, told to take off all my clothes except my socks, and directed to put on one of those lovely and fashionable hospital nighties (that sexy lingerie).

A nurse – Julie (who monitored me a few times in L&D earlier in the pregnancy) , hooked me up on the ever popular monitors – so by noon, I was lying in bed, ready to go.

So there I lay, listening to Baby Z bump and be bop around in side me while Dale studied his scrubs. He looked so handsome in them, like a hotty doctor from ER (yes , I’m biased, but my whole family, well, the females, always comment on how handsome Dale is. Although he’s 45, he looks very young, and sexy as a doctor - even one of his sister's said the same - heh heh).

We took a few pictures (won’t post mine, I look like a real goof, especiallly with the hair covering on my head. Me without hair is a step below me with hair - a rather huge step).

So time passes, and I really have to pee. In comes the nurse to unhook me so I can go attend to nature's calling. Then right back to the monitors. Time passes. I have to pee again. So Dale and I unhook me, not thinking that we’re setting off some kind of alarm at the nurses' station (they get alerted if something changes in the heart beat). In comes another nurse, to see what happened. I’m all, "Sorry! Had to pee!" In addition, I kept moving my legs and knees so it would knock out the monitor a bit, and in would come Julie, laughing, because she knew it was me being fidgety vs. something not being right on the monitors. How can I help it??!! I'm moments away from meeting this little guy!

So it’s 12:45…15 minutes until show time, when Julie walks in and says, "we have more time. Dr. R just went to delivery another baby."

Huh?? But…but….I’m on for 1pm! I’m all psyched up to have this baby! I can’t stop peeing! How dare another woman decide to go into labor right before my big show! What if it takes her hours to push??

Dale summed it up best: "What can you do."

So again – I have to pee. Another nurse unhooks me – and off I go.

I call my mom to tell her to pass the word to the family because we’re behind schedule.
Meanwhile, one of my sister-in-laws came up around noon to be there with us – but she’s not allowed in the recovery room. However, at one point, after Zach was born, she walked in with Dale to see me – only to get "disciplined" by the same nurse and ushered out quickly :-D My SIL acted like no one told her, so Julie was all, "I KNOW I told her! It’s like a slap in my face! She didn’t even listen to me!"

Dale and I got a chuckle out of that, although we understood why you can’t have just anyone walking in. There are other patients in the room as well (at least, there was one at the time when I was there). However, to be fair to my SIL, another nurse told her it should be ok if she went to see me.

Finally, at 1:30, I’m up. Nerves nervling…juices flowing….brain and heart pumping – SHOW TIME!

I’m wheeled into the operating room. Dale cannot come in while they give me my spinal. The room was very … well… operating roomish. I get up on a small table, and we have to wait for the anesthesiologist and a few other team members to arrive. So we wait. And wait.
Nerves start building again. About 10-15 minutes passes, when lo and behold, we have us a spinal guy!

The spinal felt odd … it didn’t really hurt… just was a tad uncomfortable. I felt a burning/stinging for a brief second … then pressure on a small part of my spine. They then laid me onto my back, and Dr Spinal asked if my legs felt tingly.

Yep … and warm. Good. That’s good.

He pokes me with a tiny pin on my chest – can you feel that? Yes. Good.

Then he pokes my abdomen. Can you feel that? No. Good.

Meanwhile, oxygen is put into my nose through a tiny tube, a huge blue sheet is lifted to separate my line of vision from my abdomen, and my arms are laid out on either side of me so I look like the letter T.

In comes my doctor …all smiling and happy … says hello … and on tape, he says, "This is Dr R. I am doing a caesarian section on Joanne. Is that correct, Joanne?"

Yes – you are absolutely right.

"Let’s start the incision."

"Wait! My husband’s not here!"

The nurse had already gone to get him … the doc told me not to worry …they would not let him see the start of the cutting, and before I know it, Dale is by my head, rubbing my arm and holding my hand.

I tell him how bizarre I feel because I can’t feel my legs … yet I’m wide awake.

On the other side of the sheet, the doc and his team are having a conversation … about life … as if they are socializing at a dinner! I’m thinking, how can he cut and talk? I’d need to concentrate! I guess years of practice! But even with years of practice... I mean, the guy is multi-tasking with my uterus and his staff.

Every so often, he’d say "time out" –… then they’d pause … then continue. I'd feel a tugging and pulling - but no pain.

Before I knew it …within 15 minutes … I hear Zachary’s beautiful cry! The staff tell Dale to stand up – and I hear him say, "Oh my God!" And he starts to cry … so I start to cry!

A member of the staff grabs Dale and takes him to see the baby.

Dale cuts the umbilical cord as I turn my head to try to see everything. All I can see are green scrubs everywhere. But I can still hear Zachary's beautiful and hearty cry.

Meanwhile, the doctor is busy stitching me up, now multi-tasking with staples, my skin, and his staff.

Dale comes back over to me, and one of the nurses hands him our son to hold. What an amazing sight! Dale places Zachary by my face so I can see him as the staff take our camera and start snapping all kinds of photos.

Then it’s time for Zachary to get weighed and measured, so they take him to the nursery. Dale asks if I want him to stay with me. I tell him, "Go with our baby."

It only takes about another 15 to 20 minutes to stitch me up, and before I know it, I’m back in recovery. I got a tiny bit sick (tossed my cookies just a tad) from the drugs in the spinal… but other than that, I’m fine.

A nurse comes in and wipes me down (boy was I sweating!). Turns out, this nurse used to work out at Bally’s near us. We recognize each other. She’s very pretty, so later I tell Dale he missed my sponge bath from the former Bally’s hotty :-D His comment: "Oh man. I missed all the fun!"

About 45 minutes later, Zachary is in my arms, and we’re bb-feeding for the first time. I’m new to this, so I need help, but he latches on and shakes his head like a tiny puppy shaking a rag in his mouth. Adorable!

Eventually, I’m in my room … hooked up to my IV and other tubing (talk about feeling like a science project) … and the rest, as they say, is history.

Everyone’s advice for a c-section was great … TAKE THE PAIN MEDS! I did – and often – and while it did hurt to laugh (Dale, of course, kept making me laugh), and cough. etc., I healed fairly quickly and was walking around by the 3rd day (another great piece of advice – walk when they tell you to walk!).

Even though Zach lost weight in the hospital (10% of his body weight...which led to us supplementing him with formula in addition to bb-feeding), Zach now weighs 8lbs 3oz… and to quote the nurse who visited us yesterday in our home, "He’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

I have to agree :)

Welcome To the World Z.A.K.

2009-01-04T07:37:00.000-08:00

December 30, 2008 @ 2:04pm

So here I am - broke outta prison - well, they gave me parole with a pat on the butt for good behavior.

It happened so quickly. One minute, I'm kickin' the Mother Ship in the control panel, the next minute, some cold hand-like contraptions have me and yank me up and out!

I won't lie - I was a bit p'o'd at first. Here I was... all warm in my pod... and then the rest, as they say, is history.

The Dad Person cut my network cable to the Mother Ship's life-support system. He had this look on his face as if he'd never seen anything so amazing. But of course! I'm super amazing! 41 weeks of forming and shaping and growing - it ain't easy being me!

The Mom and Dad person looked a bit teary-eyed - at least from what I could see. Then all these other creatures had me and put stuff in my eyes and did things to me that - well, I'm a gentleman so let's just say it was a tad unexpected.

Regardless, after a few days of bonding and getting to see what these parent-entities are like, I decided I like it outside. Yeh....yeh.... they worry a lot cuz I wasn't eating enough at first. You think it's easy trying to get milk out of some flesh-mounds? Like trying to suck an elephant through a straw!

Once we got me on the bottle - I was hooked -and now I'm a happy camper.

I weighed in initally at 8 lbs 6 oz (yeh - mom filled her face with some good eats) and 21.5 inches long. Hey - I had 41 weeks to get to this size!

I left the hospital at 7lbs 12.2 oz - which was actually a gain for me because I had lost some weight. Again - elephant...straw....

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Now if only this Mom Person would stop crying each time she looks at me! Wuz up wit dat??! I'm the baby -and she's got the water works going. I know I'm a cutie...but can you say HORMONES??

Talk to you all soon!

Cheers!

Today Is the Day!

2008-12-30T06:24:00.001-08:00

Since labor is not progressing on its own (my cervix is sealed like Fort Knox) - and my contractions are few and far between - the safest route to evict Baby Z from Keel's Kubby is to go the "C-Section" route.

So today at 1pm is the big day!

My doctor explained that I'm not "inducible" (meaning if they try to induce me, chances are I'd be in labor for quite some time - and it would end in a C anyways) - so based on that and my age, etc. , etc., we are going in for an extraction.

I don't know if Baby Z will be too happy when he hears someone sawing away at the walls of his home, but it's time. Officially 41 weeks today!

Baby Z is estimated to be about 7lbs 14 oz (give or take a pound in either direction).

My sister is taking a poll to guess his weight/length.

Me: 8 lbs 5 oz, 20 inches
She: 8 lbs 1 oz 19 inches
Dale: 15 or 16 pounds, 4 feet (ok - we got him to commit to 8lbs 3oz and 20 inches)

So there ya go - will post a picture when all is said and done - be home in about 4 days - off to see the Wizard (a.k.a. my doctor)!

So the latest on Baby Z....

2008-12-22T13:11:00.000-08:00

Seems like he is very comfy in his Uterine Apartment. Went to Labor & Delivery yesterday per my doctor's request to check things out since we're so close to my due date (tomorrow - woo hoo)! Seems like the only thing dilated on me right now is my mouth.

Baby Z was super active during said monitoring. The nurse said he probably doesn't like the monitors. Can you blame him? Probably cramps his style.

Heartbeat and activity levels are great (which accounts for my pliable stomach distending in all directions). The spouse said he thinks there's an alien in my belly, and he threatened to serve Baby Z with a 3-Day "Leave the Premises" notice before final eviction. However, Baby Z is still sitting "high" - so I don't think he gives a rat's ass about any eviction notices. He must know how cold it is outside. He's certainly Dale's and my kid - hates cold weather already.

If Baby Z does not embark down Uterine Hall by end of week, the doc says we can induce Sunday. He does not want to induce earlier as you increase your chances of a c-section, so he wants to give the baby a chance to get this party started on his own time.

Here's a recent belly shot - 39 weeks and 4 days. I figure I can't get much bigger than this (or CAN I?)... so this will probably be the final belly post.

Baby Z - 39 Weeks

2008-12-18T09:36:00.001-08:00

36 Week Belly Shot (Only For The Brave)

2008-11-29T09:48:00.001-08:00

Had to edit the links on this post as I shut down my flickr account - they started charging a monthly fee of $24.95! The nerve! Off to Snapfish, Shutterfly, and Photobucket!

Here's a 27 week photo instead:

Finally figured out my new camera - not that it's rocket science - just that I have to get used to it :)

Self-Portrait from Wednesday, Nov 26th (day before Thanksgiving). Did this with the self-timer, so I look goofy (when don't I) - but anyways, it's all about the belly :-D

deleted link

Also, here's another one of the nursery - DH put up the ZAK for Baby Z's initials:
deleted link

Lastly, inside the crib - and the little outfit we plan to take him home in :)
deleted link

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

The Proud Famiglia

2008-11-22T04:42:00.001-08:00

What a foursome!

Baby Z's Moves

2008-11-20T10:32:00.000-08:00

Baby Z is doing some funky move right now - it almost tickles :-D

It was so cute last night (at least, this is how I interpreted it). He was moving and wiggling, so of course, I always put my hand on my right side where the moves are strongest.

So his little (butt? thigh? hip? foot?) kept bumping against my hand, and then, all of a sudden, it was as if his whole body was located on the right side - my belly shape was all "right side" - and you could feel a lot of baby on that side...so it was as if he cuddled into my hand - and then he fell asleep :)

Ok...ok...he was probably playing "possum" and saying, through gritted gums, "Woman! Get your hands off my ASS!" But I like my cuddle-interpretation better ;-)

More Baby Shower Pictures

2008-11-12T12:31:00.001-08:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jokeel/sets/72157608816982189/

30 Weeks 5 Days

2008-10-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

Picture with my mom and sis

Picture of me and my SILS

Picture of me and my sis:

Yes - I Went "There"

2008-10-15T12:28:00.000-07:00

I can't even believe I did this....

I was driving to work - and cutting through some back streets to get to the main street which eventually leads to work (sometimes it's easiers to do that than to try and pull out of my driveway with all the traffic coming - goes with living on a main street).

I coulda sworn I stopped at the stop sign - I hit the brake - but I musta just kinda rolled through it...

All of a sudden... police lights behind me.

So in a panic, what do I do? I start to smooth my top over my belly and ...um.... accentuate it.
Young police guy comes up: "Do you know why I stopped you, beotch?" (Ok - he said ma'am...)

Me - all wide-eyed and shoving out my belly: "Um... I'm not sure... um...."

"You didn't stop at the stop sign."

Me: "I'm very sorry! I thought I did... being pregnant and all...sometimes you don't think...your mind is on your bladder...and...and... I'm SO sorry!" (I really did think I had stopped - I mean... I know it was a "fast" stop - but it was a stop...but not long enough...sigh....)

He: "How's your driving record?"

Me: "It's pretty good. I had a few tickets about 3-4 yrs ago."

He (very nicely - the whole time): "May I see your license and insurance card?"

So he takes it back to his car.... comes back within a minute - and says, "Ok - I'm giving you a warning. Just be careful in the future."

Me: "Thank you SO much! Again - I'm REALLY sorry! Care to rub my belly?" (Ok - the rubbing belly part - pure fiction - but I certainly rubbed it - and thanked Baby Z - for helping his neurotic mom out of a ticket!).

I can't believe I pulled the pregnancy card! I actually went "there"!

Me hides my head in shame....

The Hotty Doctor

2008-10-01T07:52:00.000-07:00

So this past Saturday, the spouse had to go to Urgent Care because his middle finger had swollen up, right near the nail (what a finger to swell up, eh).

Anyways, after he's called in, I wait about 20 minutes for him, and he comes out - big smile on his face.

I figure they didn't have to amputate, and he got an all-day sucker for being a good boy.

So we get in the car, and he says, "Man! You shoulda seen the doctor! What a little hottie!"

Visions of an old, pot-bellied, gray-haired man with a goatee and glasses infiltrate my head. I'm a bit scared.

"She musta just got outta med school!"

Ah - mystery solved - SHE.

"Too bad it was only my finger that needed attention. I wanted to tell her the problem's a little bit lower."

We laugh.

"She told me, 'I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, your finger is infected. The good news is, I'm not wearing any underwear.'"

At this point, he's looking like a puppy about to get a Scooby Snack as he adds, "I told her to take the finger if she has to, and lift up that lab coat!"

Turns out, a few days later, we're back at Urgent Care. I came down with Strep Throat, so we figured we better get him checked as well.

We're sitting in the waiting room, and I see this really cute girl in a lab coat peek out the door - petite, dark hair, big eyes - big smile on her face when she sees the spouse. He's right - she's a hotty doctor ;-D

She comes out and asks, all concerned, "Is your finger still swollen?" (I know he wanted to say, "That ain't what's swollen, Honey" - but he didn't. I admire his control because I wanted to say it myself.)

So we explain the Strep Story, and she takes us right back - ahead of about 3-4 other people who have been waiting longer than us.

She says she probably just made a few patients angry - but she didn't care - she was leaving in 20 minutes anyways. Ah - we got VP treatment. The spouse musta made a good impression on her during his finger visit.

So she checks out the spouse - to his disappointment, she did not give him a prostate exam - prescribes some more antibiotics, just to be safe, and wishes us well with her charming smile.

I tried not to stare at her name tag - but it was hard to believe she's a doctor. Must be fresh outta the womb of med school. She's a D.O. as opposed to an M.D. - which I'm sure stands for "Delicious One" in her case. The spouse did not want to stare at her name tag, for fear she would think he was checking out her rack. He shoulda gone for it - what a cover! "I forgot to put in my contacts....and I can't quite make out your name. Mind if I bury my face in your name tag?"

The next time anyone asks, "what's up, Doc?" - I'm sure my spouse can tell Dr. Delicious One what's up...and then some.

Another Enry From Baby Z

2008-09-26T12:31:00.000-07:00

So this Mom-Creature is neurotic. Let's face it. I've grown to accept it.

I had to hijack her journal again while she wasn't looking because this was too good to pass up.
Last weekend, I did my usual song-and-dance for her - you know - the one where I kick and poke and flutter her belly - the stuff that makes her giggle like a school girl.

Come Monday, I was a tad tired. You try getting your testicles to decend into your scrotum and see if YOU feel like kicking up your heels throughout the week!

Regardless, the Mom-Creature was feeling under the weather starting Monday. I could tell. Plus I could hear her tell the Dad Entity that her stomach felt "ucky" and she felt like she was "borderline getting a cold."

This continued Tuesday....and Wednesday. She thinks SHE has it tough! I'm trying to get my eyelids to open and practice my breathing techniques! So I was quiet. What's a guy to do! As I heard the Dad Entity say, "Perhaps he's just lazy...like his dad" or "he's probably sleeping. Leave him alone in there!" Gooo, Dad!

Well, she called her doctor on Wednesday - not specifically about me - but because she and this Aunt Lady are taking this Grammy Being to see some Celine Dion person at some place called the Q. Supposedly the Grammy Being came down with something called Strep, so Miss Mom wanted to make sure it was ok to be near her. Antibiotics were in place for just about 24 hrs, so the doctor said it should be fine.

Then trouble starts. I hear Mom Creature ask, "By the way, is it normal that the baby hasn't been overly active for awhile - and I'm 27 weeks? Should he be more active?"

I'm BUSY in here - I need my rest! Oh the nerve!

Well, Doctor says things sound normal. Mom Creature sounds relieved.

Would you know, just because I didn't kick up my heels and dance while this Celine Dion person sang, Mom started to panic?? I did a little dance during a few numbers, but I guess it wasn't enough. Sigh.

So the next morning, Mom tells Dad, "Your boy hasn't been very active for a few days now."
I could taste the tears welling up in her eyes. Dad says, "If you're worried, call the doctor."

Oh, Dad - you went over to the Dark Side...I thought us testosterone-filled bodies are supposed to stick together...

Well, apparently her doctor was out of town, so the backup doctor told her to come in for an ultrasound. Yep - another look at Yours Truly.

Pardon me, Ladies, but when the wand thing first projected my image, I was sleeping! Yes - they noted my strong breathing...and yes, they noted my strong heartbeat....but I was taking a snooze. I could read Mom's mind: "Why isn't he moving??"

So, yes, girls, I did what any good baby-who's-growing-his-body-parts would do - I danced. I moved. I punched. I kicked. I slapped my hand on my forehead and said, "Oy, Woman, I'm fine in here! Wouldja stop worrying!"

Mom noted that she couldn't feel some of my kicks. I'm all, "WTF!" Then I hear the Wand Lady tell her, "Your placenta is anterior. Sometimes that acts as a shock absorber."
They coulda saved Mom a lot of grief if they had told her that to begin with - at the 20 week song-n-dance routine. Even I know that!

Ah well...she probably still woulda panicked. She's neurotic.

And would you believe, they reward me by snapping a picture of my penis??!! And I head the doctor describe it as looking like a tiny TURTLE! Of all things! I just got the testicles where they belong...and the best they can come up with is TURTLE??!! Why always the focus on my penis? WHY?

Ah man... I tell ya.... Mom better not expect me to take that picture to school with me for Show-N-Tell.

Regardless, I decided that, for the rest of yesterday - I would kick and punch away. Gave her more of a show later that evening, and early this morning - and throughout today. That should keep her calm until her next panic attack.

One thing I've learned from all this - the woman is easy to please. I figure all I'll have to do - once I'm out of this womb-contraption - for her birthdays and Mother's Day is run up to her, punch her and kick her in the gut a few times, and watch her smile. At least she's low maintenance when it comes to gifts. I can put my money to better use - like buying a camera to take a picture of her Hoo Ha to see how SHE likes it!

So there ya go. The things we fetuses have to do to keep you ladies smiling. It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. Might as well be me!

My Funny/Bizarre Baby Dream

2008-08-18T12:24:00.001-07:00

I still don't feel a ton of movement so I'm always wondering, "why? what's going on?" (My sister said she didn't really feel a ton of movement kick in - no pun intended - with her first son until about 7 mos - other than butterfly flutters).

Thursday night, I felt more than I normally do - I felt definite bumps - put my hand over the left side of my belly (where his head and hands are) and I felt definite light bumps against my hand three times - which made me smile :) Then I felt a few more with my right hand right around where his feet are.

Nonetheless, since Thursday, other than an occasional light tap now and then, it hasn't been as prominent, so of course, I worry/wonder.

With that said, I woke up at 5:20am this morn .... and had thoughts of baby movement on the mind. I fell back to sleep for about an hour and a half, and here's my funny bizarre dream.

In my dream, I felt something tiny and hard near my belly button, and I pushed down on it and went "OW!" So I showed the spouse, and lo and behold, all of a sudden, 10 tiny toes were protruding from my abdomen! I said to the spouse, "LOOK! We can see his feet!" So we start grabbing at the tiny toes which later morphed into his actual feet.

Then, a tiny hand reaches out and up towards my face - so I grab it and kiss it - all excited!

The funniest part - lastly.... his whole face emerges right above my belly button - complete with big brown eyes and dark hair, and he looks back and forth. I kiss his tiny head as I hold his hand and say, "I love you Zachary", thinking, "wow - they can see out from inside the womb!" He says back, "I love you Joanne." And I'm thinking, "isn't he supposed to call me Mom?" :-D

Then I woke up.

My mom asked if I was taking hallucinogens last night. A colleague of mine told me to find out what the dream means because it has to mean something. I said, "Yeh - it means the mom is NUTS!" She says, "Well, we already know that. Maybe there's a deeper meaning." Yeah - the mom is certifiably insane! :-D

An Update From Baby Z

2008-08-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

Hello, Everyone!

Mom fell asleep at the computer, so I decided to type this update myself (she's always sleeping! Wuz up wit dat!). Yeh - I managed to snag me a palm pilot as a "pre-birth" gift to myself when mom was out shopping and not paying attention. She didn't blink an eye, so here I am, typing away on it. This thing's HUGE! I mean... it's almost as big as I am! Not sure who came up with the "brilliant" name of Palm Pilot - but BODY Pilot is more fitting! (I'm hoping to get an IPOD next - it's kinda quiet in this here womb-contraption-thingamajig).

So we had our 20 week, full anatomy ultrasound yesterday. I must admit, I did some camera 'mugging' for the folks! I figure, might as well show off a bit for this hour long show.

Mom says she hasn't felt a lot of movement. Ya want movement, woman? I'll give you movement! I decided to kick my legs around and punch out my arms throughout the whole show. That made mom giggle like a school girl - and she got a little choked up as well. What is it about you girls and those emotion things? Women - who can understand them. Is there an Idiot's or Dummy's guide to understanding these XX Chromosome Entities? Hmmm....maybe I'll write a book about it. Mom's always wanted to write and publish a book. I bet I can beat her to the punch.

Anyways, so Dad was all, "You don't feel that??!!"

I heard a meager, "No" from the Mother Ship. Sigh...the little lady has a lot to learn.

At one point, I heard mom say something about how she read that some women can see their babies sucking their thumbs in the womb. So, yeh, I decided to give her a little thumb sucking. She got a huge kick outta that. (Don't tell mom I'm telling you this, but she used to suck her thumb until she was about 4 - my grandpa, from what I hear, used to put black pepper on her thumb to make her stop, but all she'd do is suck that off...crying and whining because it was so "hot", yet the sucking continued. Um.... can you say "oral fixation"?)

But I digress. Moving right along, I also stretched my legs out completely - to show off how nice the femurs are progressing...heard the sonagrapher chuckle and say something like, "he better enjoy that now because he's not gonna be able to do that much longer as he gets bigger!"

You mean this growing thing continues?? Wow! It's a lot of work....making your own body. You ladies think YOU'RE fatigued... try growing a brain....and a heart....not to mention a penis!

Speaking of penis (hehe - that word cracks me up) - I decided to show off mine. The ultrasound lady said "He's certainly not shy" to which mom replied (in typical girl fashion), "He's just like his father." Yeh ...yeh....what a card.

Anyways, what is it with you women and "it's so cuuuuuuuuute!" I mean, c'mon now! This is my penis you're talking about! I was hoping for a "WOW!" or a "NIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCE!" But "cute"??? Does she say that to dad?? What the (bleep)!

Then we got some measurements on some boring stuff - like mom's cervix, her ovary thingies, her uterus, the placenta, the umbilical cord. This show is about ME! Let's get back to the headliner!

Love showing off my heart and all 4 of its chambers. I worked long and hard on that organ. The doctor said I have a beautiful ventricular septum. That's something you don't hear every day! I must say, I impress myself.

I weigh about 12 ozs now - not sure what the chubby...er... charming little lady is eating, but she's doing a good job with that. And I measure 20 weeks and 4 days (even though mom is just at 20 weeks). I'm a bit ahead of schedule. All part of my master plan.

I did have to cross my arms over my face at one point, though. It's like, "enough already! Stop looking at me! It's been an hour - and I want to get back to surfing the web on my palm/body pilot!

So in a nutshell, I put on a good show. I stole every scene. I think I'm doing a great job with the upkeep of my chambers. Mom better not be thinking of charging me rent. I never call her for anything. I do my own repairs, my own growth, I keep to myself...for now. She's lucky to have a tenant like me.

And if you ladies think YOU have it rough with pregnancy, thank your lucky stars you weren't born a spiny dogfish. The things you find when you google:

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/17213

Off to mess with mom's head and send her an email from the confines of these uterine walls. If anyone wants to correspond with me, you can reach me at BabyZ@momswoohoo.com

Take care all!

(Note to readers: I have no clue if that's a real email address. So send email at your own risk - mwahahahaha!)

P.S. I'm sitting breech right now. At first I thought the sonagrapher said I'm sitting "on the beach" - but then I listened a little more closely and heard things correctly. I was all, "Beach? You think this is a vacation? What are you...nuts??!!"

Anyways, I have time to flip, I know. My head is currently to the left and just above the MotherShip's belly button, and my legs are kinda diagonal and to the right of her belly button. What can I say. I'm comfy!

2008-07-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in awhile, so I figured it's time.

I am currently 17 weeks pregnant, and happy as happy can be :-)

My morning sickness has subsided, so other than the fact that my stomach is starting to look like I swallowed a small cantaloupe, I feel pretty much normal. I've gained about 8.5 pounds thus far.

I don't have any weird cravings. I'm not extra hungry. Nothing out of the ordinary.

For the first trimester, everything I ate tasted sweet. Normally, I love snack foods - like chips, doritoes, more chips, nachos, did I say chips? Could barely get them down. I could taste sugar in everything! Talk about gag-inducing! My sister had the same symptom with both her boys. And I'm happy to announce - I'm having a boy! Maybe it's something in the boy genes.

Sweet foods tasted uber-sweet for awhile. And I love sweets as much as I love snack foods.

Could barely eat a teaspoon of ice cream - and, yes, I love ice cream!

I'm also the type of person who can put salt on their salt - but even too much salt tasted pretty down cruddy to me.

That's all changed once I hit about week 14. Now my taste buds are no longer super sonic. Just their normal taste-buddy selves.

For awhile, smells bothered me. Forget coffee. I don't know what that smell morphed into - but it was NOT coffee! If you told me that some alien life-force had invaded my coffee canister and swapped it out for some form of alien gasoline - I'd have believed you. Now the smell is back to good ol' coffee (although I have not drank any since about week 5 or 6, when all senses went into warp speed).

Some soapy smells smelled really awful for awhile, too.

Now I'm back to my usual balanced, normal-sniffing and eating self.

As for fatigue.... I'm tired....but I can't say that's gone into overdrive. I'm still working out - within moderation, of course - and that helps me feel energized a bit at times.

While "the girls" (a.k.a. the mountains of love as dubbed by the spouse) were sore for a few months, now they just feel heavy - not sore.

I haven't bought maternity clothes yet. Still wearing most of my "looser" fitting clothes - and I did go up a size in a pair of shorts and a pair of capris.

Ok - as for dreams. I've read that many pregnant women have wild dreams - some of the sexual nature. Normally, I have wild dreams - not of the sexual nature - just wild (e.g. once I dreamt about a talking squirrel). So what kind of dreams do I have now? Can I get me a good romp with the likes of Captain Jack Sparrow in dreamland? Noooooooooooooooo. Instead, I dream about - are you ready? A killer SNAIL!

Yes - you read that correctly. It was this super-sized, slimy, snail from hell that was eating people! In my dream, I saw it bite a cat in two. Then it started chomping on some girl as I yelled out in horror to her friend, "Watch out! It's eating your friend!" A bloody mess.

Sigh. Snails. Slimy, icky, overgrown, meat-eating snails.

No comments about "snips and snails and puppy dog tails that s what little boys are made of" please.

Not For the Faint At Heart (All About IUI)

2008-03-03T11:41:00.001-08:00

I haven't posted in awhile, but this was too tempting NOT to post about it....

Ok - I have to share a teeny bit of TMI - if you don't mind. If you do... stop reading.... (but can you really stop now that I've built such suspense?).

I've gone for 4 inseminations now (over 2 yrs of trying to get pregnant - 6 months of fertility treatments thus far).

The first month, a nice, elderly nurse named Sandy did the honors - insert speculum...insert "the goods"...withdraw ...done. (the closest DH will ever get to a three-some - hehe).
The second month, the doctor did the honors - same thing... a quickie - done (the closest I'll ever get to a 2 guys-n-a-gal)

Last month I went solo ... my first one-on-one with another woman.... Nurse Nancy (I can't remember her name - so I'm making one up) had a little bit of trouble clamping on to the ol' cervix. Said it was "posterior" or something. But nonetheless - she clamped...did her thing... all done.

Well, yesterday, Nurse Sally had the MOST trouble attaching to my insides! What should've been a 1-3 minutes "clamp on/clamp off" turned into about 15 minutes!

First of all, she said she was going to use a smaller speculum because "you're small." Um...ok.... what does height have to do with the size of your cervix? What, I ask you!

So she fiddles away... clamps...unclamps... "hmmm... your cervix is posterior...it's facing away.... could you bend your legs back so your knees touch your ears" (ok - she said abdomen - but the visual is better if I use "ears" - it's all about getting the laugh)... so I bend.... "could you scooch down a little more"...so I scooch... she clamps.... insert her head into my "entrance" and shouts out "hellloooooooo in there.... anybody home???" (ok - she didn't really do that, either - but maybe if she had, it wouldn't have taken so long)....

"I see it... I can see your cervix..."

Woo f*cking hoo - and I can see the top of your gray head!

No luck. "Hmmm....maybe I'll use the longer speculum. We don't want the catheter bumping into your uterus. We need to make sure it's in the right spot."

And I need to make sure my fist is in the right spot when it meets your jaw.

So she fumbles around for the longer instrument, apologizing the hole whole time.... and starts again.

Clamp...unclamp... fiddle...faddle... no luck.

"Have you had an HSG?" (that test where they flush a dye through your ovaries and stuff to make sure you have no blockages)

"yes - had one in August. All pipes are in working condition. I've also been told I have a strong uterus. It's a great pick-up line."

"Hmmmm...." (clamp/unclamp). "Do you have fibroids?"

"No... just androids. And unless fibroids cropped up in a few days, all clean. Just had an ultrasound. Got me about 6-8 follicles. Cha ching!" (note: the higher dosage of Follistim gave me much more activity in my ovaries this month)

"Maybe it's just that your ovaries are over-stimulated."

And maybe it's just that you're drunk, Nurse Sally.

At this point, I'm ready to scream, "Just get a damn wrench and a hammer and pound the thing open! Let me do it myself! Call the janitor! I'm sure he has some tools we can use! Call my dad! He's about as handy as they come!"

Finally, after more acrobatic positions on my part (I offered to stand on my head - I don't think she found that too funny) - she has success. She and I are surgically connected via a speculum. I can read her thoughts. They're not pretty. And then she gets all 42 million paying customers on board the Cervix Express.

"You're a tough cookie, Jo."

And you're a nincompoop, Nurse Sally.

The spouse said maybe she was in the wrong hole. At this point, it wouldn't surprise me...because this round of IUI was a pain in the ass. (BUTT if it worked - it's all worth it in the 'end'

eMail From My Sister - Papa's Figs Are Back

2007-09-24T11:45:00.001-07:00

"by the way did i tell you that daddy has huge figs? mine, which are sweet and tasty, are about 1/2 the size, if that. i told him his figs look like balls...lol"

Worth the Weight?

2007-09-11T07:19:00.001-07:00

The spouse & I were watching the Discovery channel last night - in between Monday night football - and there was a show that was reviewing the top 10 animals you don't want to piss off, basically... we caught it at #3.

Number three was a lion, number two was African killer bees, and the number one animal you don't want to piss off was the elephant of all things! I guess you don't want to be in front of a charging elephant (especially if their credit card is declined - haha)

So the spouse says to me, "The elephant? They seem so nice and smart. I've always liked elephants." "That's why I married one."

Ba dum dum!

Mistaken Identity

2007-09-10T14:22:00.001-07:00

I scared my 7 year old nephew at his birthday party on Saturday....

We were at a local arcade ... and I had my back turned, talking to my sister's mother-in-law ...and he runs up to me and is all, "Mom! Can Kyle and I...." And as I turn around and he sees MY face instead of my sister's - he screams, "AHHHHH!" And off he runs...

Really good for the ol' ego...hehe!

My sister and I have had similar hair at certain points in our lives - and this is one of them. Hers is always long, dark, and curly. Mine has ranged from long, dark and straight, to short and straight, to short and curly, to long, dark and curly... so from behind... when our hair is about the same length... it's hard to tell who's who.

He and his brother (now 10) used to do that to me when they were really little on days when my sister and I had our hair styled kinda the same....the look of shock on their little faces - priceless :-D

At least...I like to THINK it was the hair... Then again...when I look in the mirror, I do the same thing...run screaming....

The best case of Mistaken Identity was when my sister's boyfriend at the time (when she was 18 and I was 16) - mistook me for her. In addition to the hair-twin-thang, I was wearing one of her jumpsuits. Imagine my surprise - when I was bent over - head in the refrigerator - and someone came up behind me and grabbed my ass.

Imagine HIS surprise when I turned and he saw it was me instead of her.

At 16, I had made it to like 3rd base - without even having a boyfriend!

If I've ever made a boy blush... that was the moment. Priceless!

My Dad's Nuts

2007-08-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

No - I don't mean he's nuts as in "he's crazy"... I mean his nuts. And by "his nuts", I don't mean, well, that would be plain wrong.

But a touching moment occurred the other night. The spouse and I met my dad at a local Panini's for a couple of beers, and as my husband sits down on the bar stool, my dad hands over his nuts...in a bag.

How many father-in-laws would do that for their son-in-laws!

My dad said, "Here. I brought you some peanuts!"

We think it's because my husband helped my dad the other day by calling a window guy for him...but regardless, my dad shared his nuts.

As we drove home that night and each grabbed at my dad's nuts, thinking we were going to find shelled peanuts, our hands pulled out a variety of mixed nuts - shell-free. Cashews, macadamias, pecans, some peanuts.... So my dad had actually bought a can of mixed nuts and dumped some in a shopping bag.

Maybe it was because we were hungry, or maybe it's because we're nutty, but my dad's nuts never tasted so good.

Words of Endearment

2007-08-29T07:37:00.000-07:00

Last night, as I've been doing all week, I was complaining about how 'pudgy' I've been feeling lately.

My husband spewed out this little gem: "Hon, you're every man's dream." (PAUSE) "I hope I never fall asleep again."

Eggplant Wars

2007-08-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

I think I started a veggie war of the eggplant variety between my mom and a long-time acquaintance of my parents'.

Note: my parents are divorced and have been for about 16 years now.

Last week, this lady (we shall call her EggHead for the sake of privacy) decided to show my dad her eggplant talents by offering to cook eggplant parmasian for him. She wanted to do him this favor since he gave her his rather large eggplant.

My dad is kind that way. He would give you his eggplant and the eggpants off his legs if you asked. So please. Don't. Ask.

As it turns out, Egghead's Eggplant Parmasian recipe was a hit with my dad.

"Dey were so good," he exclaimed to my husband and me over a few beers. "I must teacha you how she made dem. Well, she couldn't stand very long. She's a big lady. So I did most of the cooking. But dey so good."

"Sure! Sure! Someday...whenever..." my husband and I say as we chug our beer, being as noncommittal to a committment as one can be.

"I come over dis weekend. Sunday. Around 4pm."

So much for being noncommittal. We were locked in to learning the recipe, eggzactly as she had mentored him.

"Make sure you have Ragu."

This shocked me because, growing up, my dad would not come within 100 feet of a jar of Ragu. All sauce that passed through his lips and worked its way down his esophagus into his belly had to be homemade. Ragu was for us American wimps. Ragu was for sissies. Ragu was just swell with me.

"How about Prego? Prego's good, too."

"No...no... she used Ragu. Get some Ragu."

Chug.

"And some pasta. In case you want it on the side. And oil. Make sure you have oil."

So this past Sunday, I learned how to make Egghead's version of Eggplant Parmasian with my dad's large eggplant. While my husband chugged beer and toggled between watching the Little League World Series and the Cleveland Indian's game, I stood in the kitchen, chugging beer, while toggling between watching my dad slice his eggplant and staring at my cool 2-pint Heineken beer can. It's a very cool looking can. Looks like a chubby little barrel.

The recipe is as follows:
1 eggplant supplied by your dad
oil
Ragu
mozzarella cheese
a Cool-whip container filled with tomatoes that your dad boils for you the night before
your dad's frying pan because your pan wobbles when sitting on the stove burner
your dad's knife because your knives are about as sharp as slug
your dad's little microwave-able porcelain pan
your dad's garlic cloves - chopped up
a large tupperware
a cutting board

Place cutting board on counter. Hand dad's knife to dad. Watch dad place his eggplant in his hands. Chug some beer. Watch dad slice his eggplant into very thin coins. Pour some oil in dad's frying pan under dad's direction and turn stove on high to heat oil. Watch dad cut more eggplant. Chug some more beer. Open jar of Ragu and stick finger into sauce to taste it. Feel around for a mushroom chunk. Lick finger while dad's busy cutting his eggplant. Pour jar of Ragu into large tupperware under dad's direction, and add dad's night-before-boiled-n-skinned tomatoes. Stir and lick spoon. Add garlic salt to taste. Stir and lick spoon again. Watch dad as he places slices of his eggplant into hot oil. Watch dad's eggplant slices sizzle. Chug more beer. Go see who's winning the Indian's game. Mosy over to the fridge and look for items to put into sauce. Cut dad's garlic cloves. Cut large onion and try not to cry. Place garlic and onions into large tupperware of sauce. Stir with spoon and taste again. Eyeball the bottle of wine sitting on counter. Consider having a glass of wine after finishing the beer. Taste a slice of dad's eggplant as he pulls out slices and places on a paper towel to drain. Bring husband a few slices. Ooo and ahh over how good they are. Compare them to potato chips. Go back to kitchen and offer dad a beer. Watch dad finish frying.

Now the tricky part:
Watch dad as he layers his eggplant slices with layers of sauce and cheese. Wipe spattered oil off stove so that spouse doesn't spaz. Watch dad layer some more. Make small talk with dad over how tasty the concoction is looking. Offer dad a glass of wine. Listen to dad shout "som-ma-ma-bitch" as he realizes he forgot the lid to his baking pan. Look for altnernatives. Grab another large tupperware bowl to place over baking pan to avoid microwave splatters. Watch as dad lifts pan into microwave. Place big tupperware (your faux lid) over the pan, and set microwave for 10 minutes. Clean dishes while eggplant cooks. Watch dad walk back and forth between Indian's game and kitchen to check on the food. Watch dad lift lid. Notice sauce splashed all over the microwave in spite of faux lid. Hope spouse doesn't walk into kitchen. Offer spouse a large glass of wine.

Once the 10 minutes are up, have your dad remove the hot pot from the microwave using nothing but a papertowel. Admire his bravado and his inability to feel pain in his fingertips. Let cool for a good, long time (i.e. about the amount of time it takes you to drink 2 beers).
I have to say, it was REALLY tasty. The spouse and I ate it in one sitting, and my dad only took a small piece.

So now the war part:
I told my mom today about this new eggplant recipe that Egghead introduced to my dad.
Her reply: "Did daddy mention MY eggplant parmasian? I made some last week, too."
Me: "Um... no... but Egghead's was fresh in his mind and mouth."
Her: "well, MINE'S healthier! Egghead uses WAY to much oil. That's why she's so heavy. I used COOKING spray. And who needs Ragu?? I made my sauce FROM SCRATCH! And REAL eggplant parmasian is BREADED."

This coming from a woman who would serve up Ragu once a week - and from the same woman who claimed that the Kentucky Fried Chicken she served to my aunt from Montreal (my dad's sister) was homemade.

Yes, folks. My mom is THE COLONEL.

So there ya go. Now my mom is up in arms over Egghead's Eggplant. I'm thinking of holding a cook-off...just to egg things on a bit...while I sit back, observe, and drink more beer.

Green Slushy

2007-08-01T08:45:00.000-07:00

Who the hell came up with Green Slushy as a Skittle flavor? There are 2 colors that candy should not be: green and blue. Blue was my favorite color growing up - before I became a Purple-onian - but I still would not want to eat it. And fruit should not be blue, either. It's just not a good color to swallow.

I have to admit, Green Slushy is better than Lime - because the only place lime belongs is in a Corona... and I usually weed out all the lime skittles and give them to my husband since he just jams the whole lot in his mouth anyways - so he can't tell whether he just ate a lime, a lemon, a cherry, or a pebble that I snuck in there... but still...it's green...and it shouldn't be in a candy.

(Yes - I do eat my Skittles one at a time - and strawberry is my favorite Skittle. What would be more cool than a bag of just strawberry Skittles!)

Green slushy - yeesh!

Canna You Hear Me Now? How Abouta Now? Anda Now?

2007-07-17T12:23:00.000-07:00

Many moons ago, in an Italian household far far away....well, not really THAT far away... but it makes for a better opening... a little italian man (a.k.a. my dad) had a cell phone, but decided he did not like his cell phone, nor his plan, because he barely used it.

Present Day: My dad decides to enter the Cell Phone Age again, but he wants a phone...just a phone...and nothing but the phone. No frills. No extras. No "I'm Not Only A Phone But I'm Also a Microwave, Coffee Maker, Popcorn Popper, HouseBoat, and Massage Therapist" phone. A blackberry device would've sent him screaming, not only in his native tongue, but in all tongues.

So the spouse and I ventured to the nearest "wireless" store to investigate some plans.

We had introduced him to Verizon - but the whole idea of $39.99/mos didn't swing. Not that he can't afford it, he just didn't see the need, especially because he only averaged 50 minutes with his last cell phone plan. My sister had looked into Allel - same pricing as Verizon, pretty much- plus an activation fee to make him run screaming, not only in his native tongue, but in all tongues. (Oh, wait - that was me who ran screaming over Alltel's activation fee. Like father like daughter - who knew I could speak Chinese).

My mom had mentioned that Sprint offers a plan for $29.99/mos - and mom was right. 200 minutes. Weekends and nights free. A very basic plan. A plan... just a plan... and nothing but the plan.

Even better, the plan came with a very basic phone...with a rebate...that covered the cost of the phone. It was pure and simple. Just what the little italian ordered.

So the spouse left me hanging around the store (while he ran to get my dad), staring (i.e. drooling) at a picture of Captain Jack Sparrow on the cover of a Verizon pamphlet, and listening to some old guy complain to a sale's rep about his plan, his phone, his knees, his joints, his aches, his pains. Life was good.

Enter the godfather (a.k.a. my dad). "What you got?"

I show him the little red phone, pure and simple, nothing but a phone. No frills. No bells. No whistles. Just a phone. A tiny red phone. Pure and simple. I place it in his hand, proudly, as if introducing him to his grandchild for the first time.

"Dat's too small."

I'm crushed. The phone sat dwarfed in his hand. It might as well have been the size of a quarter.

"How about dis one?"

He pointed to a rather burly phone - a manly man phone - so the sale's rep brings it out from behind the showcase and hands it to my dad.

"Dis is better."

He doesn't even open it. He just lets it sit in his hand, getting a feel for the contraption.

I take the phone from his hand and flip it open. User Interface looks a little complex for a guy who wants just a phone, and nothing but. This puppy has a camera, a camcorder, web access, media files, a little bit of this, a lot of that. I mean, my dad is the handiest person you will ever meet - he can build a fireplace from the ground up, by himself, as well as fix a car, a toilet, a roof, a loose tooth, and just about perform heart surgery - but the guy is not familiar with computers or cell phones.

I flip the phone closed and shake my head. Too much too soon.

We inquire about another one that looks just as manly man, and the interface is a little easier to use. No camera. Some frills but not too many. And he likes-ah the way it feels.

He wears it well. How much?

"$169. But you get a $50 rebate."

"I take it."

"You'll want a case for it. How about a leather case?"

So much for just a phone...and nothing but.

My husband, dad, his cool new phone in his cool leather case, and I walk out together, one, big, happy cellular family...kinda...cuz no one else in our family has Sprint.

Over the Rainbow

2007-04-16T11:27:00.000-07:00

Another cool picture, thanks to my sister, Rosemarie :-)

Brings to mind a cool song - Ayreon's "Across the Rainbow Bridge" (from "Into the Electric Castle" - an amazing CD!)

And now this Rainbow Bridge: an iridescent span of tears - so fragile and yet so strong. Will
it support your mortal shells? Or will you fall into the fiery brine below?
[knight]
I hark back to olden days
to her and her magic ways
two souls in harmony
in an endless sea
the cruel wings of destiny
carried you away from me
and left a heart unstilled
that never will be filled
[roman (chorus:)]
beyond these stygian skies our fortress lies
across the rainbow bridge
we'll span the sea of tears and conquer all our fears (inside)
forsake this mourning field and drop your shield
across the rainbow bridge
run to the other side where all our dreams abide
[knight]
I'd sacrifice my very life
to have you at my side
like a dream I see your face
through the misty haze
we were one amid the stars
and time never healed my scars
deep inside the sadness burns
I must return!
[roman (chorus)]
[hippie]
scarlet crimson rosy red
I must be dead
or stoned out of my head
orange yellow tangerine
the acid queen
in a psychedelic scene
ochre chestnut chocolate brown
I'm upside down
on a cosmic eiderdown
ivory milky chalky white, the stars ignite, I vanish in the light - that burns so bright
Step forward. Beyond lies your goal: the Electric Castle! The past is gone! Do you wish to
lapse in limbo forever? No! Be resolute.. There are trials ahead - and rewards for those who
strive: the Surreal Search endures...
[roman & knight]
run run the past is gone, it cannot be undone
run run the future is here, our fate is drawing near
[roman (chorus)]

Full Moon

2007-04-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

Cool photo taken by my sister - the lovely Ms. Rosemarie :-)

Brings to mind an awesome song by Sonata Arctica - "Full Moon":

"She should not lock the open door
(run away, run away, run away)
Fullmoon is on the sky and He's not a man anymore
She sees the change in him but can't
(run away run away, run away)
See what became out of her man... Full moon"

Diet Tip

2007-03-21T12:58:00.000-07:00

Haven't posted in awhile...

Since my last post, I've moved, changed jobs, and almost became a mom (darn little bugger disembarked from the Mother Ship after only 7 weeks)...

Anyways, my latest endeavor is to lose some weight...shed the extra 10 pounds I've been carrying around for the last year ... or more...

So here's my tip: rather than expend energy counting calories and monitoring every drop of food you put in your mouth, go to the nearest clothing store of your choice, buy a pair of jeans that are a size (or 2) larger than what you normally buy... and enjoy the super-sized sundae of your choice.

The pair I bought a few months ago... decided to go up a size cuz the pair in my normal size...Well, let's just say the jeans looked like they were about to give birth...to my ass...

So one size larger...practically falling off me...Boy, do I feel thin! And long live stretch-material-jeans! Gotta bow down to the person who invented those! And I CAN bow down cuz the material stretches very nicely!

Join me next week when I discuss "Underwear...Who Really Needs Those Anyways!"

My Dad's Hole

2006-10-26T11:10:00.000-07:00

My dad's hole has finally been filled. I don't know what he's going to do with himself for the rest of the year, but his hole is now closed.

All summer, my dad had been waiting and waiting for his cousins to come over and waterproof his basement. All summer. Did I mention all summer? Because he talked about it all summer.

Finally, come fall, the cousins found time to start the job. I thought to myself, "Phew!" (which just about sums up most of the deep thoughts of which I am capable).

Well, let me tell you, "phew" was the wrong choice of 'thought-word'. It shoulda been "Acck!" Why? All fall (did I mention all fall?), I heard about the hole.

Anything from "Dey not doing it right" to "Dey doing a good job but I help them along a leetle beet" to "dey taking so long" to "whatyagotdatssweet?"

And almost nightly, my dad would visit his hole. My husband and I (we stayed with him all summer - in between a move from our condo to a house) would hear odd scraping noises and weird sounds coming from outside the house...around the perimeter....so my husband would sneak outside to take a look, and then I'd hear him yelling "Your dad's in the hole!" So I'd run outside to see for myself, and there he would be... 6 feet down... messing around in the hole.... cleaning it...scraping it... loving and hugging it and calling it George....

I swear...one night... around 7pm... I heard "bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do...whatcha gonna do when they come for you" emerging from the hole. I'm convinced my dad installed a tv and a mini fridge in his hole so he could hang out there all night.

Linus has his security blanket... my dad had his hole... until closing day.... when the blanket of dirt took away from him his secret hiding spot.

If I've learned one thing from this whole (hole?) experience... it's that there are no alien life forms in outerspace... they live right here on earth...feigning Italian accents and a love of pasta.

I can take you to their leader...although we may have to do a bit of digging... I believe he's still in the hole....

Squirrels

2006-10-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

I have such deep and meaningful dreams.

The other night, I dreamt that I was being chased by a mad squirrel – and by ‘mad’ – I mean “blood-dripping from little squirrel fangs” mad… insane… perhaps borderline rabid.

So I ran from this creature… through some wooded dreamscape… and as I’m running, the little bastard pulls out a tiny blowdart gun…and teeny, little, squirrel-sized darts come whizzing past my head. And would you know… one actually nails me in the neck.

I dream-think, “ouch! That stings! What the hell does this squirrel want from me!!”

And then I woke up.

Perhaps this was a carnivorous squirrel…craving a Joanne-Roast with pine-nuts.

That dream was almost as weird as my “having sex with John Travolta” dream. I don’t know which one scared me more.

I’m just glad that Travolta didn’t start up with “Ba-ba-ba-ba-barbarino” or ask me to join him in a plastic bubble…

Figs

2006-09-20T07:50:00.000-07:00

Dad: I don't know wha' hoppened! My feegs - dey are so small.

Me: Umm... your feegs? Should we be discussing this?

Dad: Last year... dey were so big! You shoulda SEEN the size of my feegs last year!

Me: I don't know if that woulda been such a good idea

(phone call to mom)

Me: Mom... daddy's talking about the size of his figs!

Mom: Oh...yeh... daddy used to have such nice figs! Big ones!

Me: (click)

Dad: Da neighbors...dey all want my feegs. Dey MY feegs! I tell dem... dey no good this year! Dey small! I showed dem my feegs.

Me: Uh... do you really think you should be showing your figs around the neighborhood? I mean... you're only asking for trouble.

Dad: I feel bad for da old guy, Nick, across da street. He loves my figs. I wish I could do more for him dis year...

Me: Don't you think you've done enough?

Dad: Maybe next year dey be big again.

Me: We can only hope.

Dad: At least I got a big zucchini.

And parents wonder why their kids don't eat fruits and vegetables.

You know you've been living too long with your dad when....

2006-09-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

...you have a dream that your dad's shower is out in the backyard...and your in the shower....completely naked... in the backyard... right smack in front of the garden... and you run inside, only to bump into the short, chubby Elvis Presley lookalike who is representing your dad in your dream, and you try desperately to cover 5 feet of body with about 4-5 inches of hands...and Papa Elvis says, "It'sa ok. I'ma your daddy. I've-ah seen-ah you before."

I think Freud just rolled over in his grave...

Love Is In the Air

2006-09-14T13:55:00.000-07:00

Commentary while watching numerous Hollywood hotties parade across the screen during some "Entertainment Tonight" highlight a few weeks ago:

Me to spouse: "Well there's a bunch of hotties for you... some real head-turners. Geez...I've never been a real head-turner.... even in my younger days."

Spouse to me: "No...you've always been more of a real stomach turner...ba dum dum!"

(The fact that my spouse can make comments like that - and get away with it - further attests my coolness...I'm cool...just ask me.)

Silence of the Pigs

2006-09-06T06:22:00.000-07:00

Just last week i was bragging about the size of my dad's zucchini...but the size of his eggplants...not so brag-worthy. In the garden world, as in outerspace, size DOES matter. I saw 4 teeny, tiny purplish kidney-looking entities sitting on his picnic table... and I started wondering, "what the hell?? Who's missing a kidney??!!" (my hands franctically feeling for strange cuts in that particular area on my body). After all, he DOES eat (gulp) pigskin... Yes. My dad is the Hannibal Lector of the bovine world. I'm not talking pork rinds... he eats plain, ol' rubbery pigskin. Boils it right up... chops it into pieces...throws it in his spaghetti sauce... and gnaws away.

When we were little, he used to put a slab of pigskin around his waste, like an apron, and chase my sister and me around the house. And people wonder why, for years, we had no fashion sense. We thought pigskin was something to be worn and then eaten - the wear-n-tear is great... it's quite resilient.

What's really disturbing is when, the other day, my dad says to me, ""quid-a pro quo, JoAHNNE...A pigga, he once tried to testa me. I mangia his skin widda some garbanzo beans and a nice dago red."

If my dad and I starred in "Silence of the Pigs":

Papa Lector: Firsta principles, JoAHNNE. ...Of eacha particular ting ask: whatta iss it in itself? Whatta iss its nature? Whatta does he do, dis man you seek? Whatta da fock am I saying?
Joanne Starling: Dis man, he eats pigskin..
Papa Lector: No! Dat is incidental. Whatta iss da first and principal ting he does, whatta need does-a he serve by eating?
Joanne Starling: Anger, social resentment, sexual frustration...
Papa Lector: No, he covets. dat's his nature. And how do we begin to covet, JoAHNNE? Do we seek out tings to covet? Make-ah an effort to answer.
Joanne Starling: No. We just...
Papa Lector: No. Precisely. We begin by coveting whatta we see every day-ah. Don't-ah you feel eyes moving over your body, JoAHNNE? And don't your eyes move over da tings you-ah want?
Joanne Starling: Woooahh...Papa Lector.... weirdness goin' on here... stop, please...can we go back to talking about your tiny eggplant?

Buffalo Papa Bill: Itta rubs da lotion on its skin. Itta does dis whenever itta iss told.
Joanne: Dad... stop it...that's just...creepy. It's crazy!
Buffalo Papa Bill: Itta rubs da lotion onna its skin or else itta gets da hose again.
[to his tomato plants, his Precious]
Buffalo Papa Bill: Si, itta will, Precious, won't it? Itta will getta da hose!
Joanne: Okay... okay... okay. Buffalo Papa Bill... can we stop this now? Can we .... like... move away from this topic? I'm getting kinda weirded out.
Buffalo Papa Bill: Now itta places da lotion inna da basket.
Joanne: Please! Please I wanna go home! I wanna go home please!
Buffalo Papa Bill: Itta places da lotion in da basket.
Joanne: I wanna see mommy! Please I wanna see mo...
Buffalo Papa Bill: Putta da focking lotion inna da basket!
Joanne: um... sure...ok... but which lotion do you prefer? The "Fuschia Fantasy" or the "Wild Berry"?
Buffalo Papa Bill: whicha ever one willa give me softa skin anda makea me feela pretty....bello.
Joanne: hello
Buffalo Papa Bill: Dat's bello...bello
Joanne: hello...hello...
Buffalo Papa Bill: Six-a years of college and dis is whatta I get... my daughter... she cannot speaka one word of italian. I go back to Italy.

Swami or Salami

2006-08-31T09:54:00.000-07:00

I think my dad is an Italian swami (that's swami, not salami...although lately I've been eating a lot of salami). I've come to this conclusion after living with him for the last 2 months (the spouse and I are in the middle of moving... so we made a temporary lay-over at my dad's).

Here's the deal:

Every night...without fail... after dinner (dinner time is flagged by the sound of "Bad boys...bad boys ... watcha gonna do...watcha gonna do when they come for you..." filtering through the family room), he goes outside and, well, stares...at his garden. I think he is pondering the meaning of life... the truth behind the Great Pyramids of Egypt and who shot JFK... the real location of Jimmy Hoffa...and the secrets to growing healthy tomatoes and zucchini.

My husband and I stare at him staring at his garden ... perhaps someone stares at us staring at him staring at his garden. It's very intriguing. What is he thinking about?

What's funny is that, if you look up and down the backyards on his street, you see the other Italians doing the same...staring at their gardens. I'm reminded of a song: "The Freaks Come Out At Night" as a herd of Italians roams the backyards.

Somehow, they are in harmony with nature...staring as one large Italian entity. Perhaps they talk Vegetable-ese... perhaps that's why my dad's zucchinis are huge (no Freudian comments, please)... and you should see the size of his cornstalks! Damn can that man grow some ears!

I sometimes hear them humming the Tarentella softly or singing songs such as "Arrivaderci, Roma", "That's Amore", "Me So Horny". They are truly connected.

And then...just as suddenly as it began...it stops. They all migrate back to their houses, perhaps for one more bowl of pasta or one more glass of vino...the connection breaks... and my dad yells out to me, "JoAHNNE! Whaddayagotdatssweet!" Apple pie and ice cream time.

I’m Seeing Red

2006-08-30T13:53:00.000-07:00

After almost 15 years living surrounded by white walls (which, considering my mental state … and my husband’s… white walls are quite fitting), I decided to get adventurous and choose an actual color for my kitchen: a deep burgundy (the actual color is vin-something-or-other...diesel?).

I should've known I'd be in for trouble when I got the paint at Home Depot. First of all, the girl who was taking care of me opens the can to add the dye/pigments, and she spills some of the paint all over the counter. A sign of trouble to come? Then, after she mixes the paint, she shows me the color and it's...well... purple.

OK - the manager who's working with the girl tells me that's normal for reds/burgundys. What he FAILED to tell me is that you have to prime the walls with a grey-tinted primer. This is so key!

So I go home to my white-primed walls and start rolling on the paint because I'm so excited to erase all signs of white, and I end up with walls that look like a bottle of cheap red wine exploded all over them (which might be ok since I will probably be sucking down a lot of wine to blur my vision so my walls look better).

The spouse and I are now 5 coats deep… on top of 2 coats of white primer….and going in deeper…By the time we’re done painting, the walls should be about 6 inches thicker than they were before we started.

I shoulda just left the walls white and slapped "REDRUM" across 'em to add a splash of color instead of going the whole 9-yards. Baby steps.

(I love this quote that someone posted on some site where some people were "seeing red" like me: "Everyone knows that reds are hard because they require so much pigment." Sure... everyone knows... and everyone knows a know-it-all will get his face slapped with a red-paint-coated paintbrush...)

In Space, Size DOES Matter

2006-08-25T12:30:00.000-07:00

I have to say... I really feel bad for Pluto. I mean... being stripped of one's ranking... that's just...wrong!

Especially because now I have to erase this mnemonic from my brain:

"My Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us Nine Planets"

"My Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us Nine" - showed us nine what?? Cookies?? Gumballs?? Dismembered Heads??

If you're gonna un-rank Pluto because it doesn't resemble a real planet, why not strip Dopey of his "Seven Dwarf" ranking? If you think about it, he doesn't LOOK like any of the other dwarfs... he's bald... doesn't have a beard... and he's much younger (which raise the question, I suppose: IS he even a dwarf? Which raises yet another question: Do the Seven Dwarfs like young boys?).

And...along the same lines... why not strip Froggy of his "Little Rascal" ranking? The kid's voice hit puberty (and then some) way before his body... so is there really anything Little Rascally about him?

If we can add a kid to the Brady Bunch (this is a subject for a different blog entry... but what the hell were they thinking by adding Oliver to the mix? Forget cartoon violence inducing intense behavior in young children... Oliver Brady is enough to make you wanna punch the living daylights outta anyone within 3 feet of you!)... if we can add a kid to the "Cosby Show"...and pretend their a real "Cosby" or a real "Brady", then we can add Pluto back into the mix. Poor little guy...never had a chance.

I'd like to say it's not the size of the planet but the magic in it... but in outerspace, unfortunately, size DOES matter.

And so starts the insanity...or maybe I should say, and so CONTINUES the insanity...cuz in this world... insanity is an endless loop:

Pluto Loses Designation, Sues IAU

(There are some great comments to the above article. The following are 3 that I found quite funny):

Pluto is not a "dwarf" planet. Let's be more sensitive here. It's just "size-challeged."
Posted by: Stephen Cram | August 25, 2006 02:17 PM

Hey - does this make all of you planets if I think the universe revolves around ME?
Posted by: Center of it all | August 25, 2006 03:13 PM

Pluto, suffering from planet envy, sues. Film at eleven.
Posted by: Debbi Atkinson | August 25, 2006 02:36 PM

Aside from me to the universal powers that be:
While you're going around changing things, can you change the name of Uranus? Cuz my husband's favorite inter-galactic joke is "on a clear night, I can see Uranus." And I hear it over and over and over again....

How do you like your cartoons? Smoking or Non-Smoking?

2006-08-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

"Tom And Jerry Quit Smoking"
Mark Sweney
Monday August 21, 2006
MediaGuardian.co.uk

"Smoking scenes are to be edited out of classic Tom and Jerry cartoons, following a complaint to the broadcast regulator that they are inappropriate for a show aimed at children.

The complaint was about two separate cartoons - Texas Tom and Tennis Chumps - transmitted repeatedly this year on Turner Broadcasting's children's channel, Boomerang.

Boomerang's audience is made up largely of children - 56% are aged four to 14 years old."

And so the article continues....

Tom and Jerry quit smoking

I never had the urge to smoke from watching Looney Tunes as a kid growing up (well, I use the term 'growing up' loosely when it applies to myself). What I'M upset about is the whole "draw a hole on a mountainside and run through" it trick that the Road Runner used to pull... because I could never get that down! I spent hours...days...trying to pass through hillsides on which I drew large, gaping holes... and all I ended up with were sore shoulders, smashed bicycles, and headaches. If you're going to bitch about removing ANYTHING from a Looney Tunes cartoon... please! Get your priorties straight! At least you can really puff on a cigarette and it works!

What's next? Pluto gets stripped of its rights as a planet?? Oh, wait...this just in....

"Pluto gets the boot"

2006-07-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

My husband is the king of returns. He prides himself on this trait. Just the other day, he told my parents, "hell... I returned a pair of underwear to Home Depot... and they don't even sell underwear! I told them, 'you did when I bought 'em. Now give me back my money!"

I have to give him his props. My dad bought a leaf blower about 3 years ago, and the darn thing never worked right to begin with, but my dad kept it and attempted to fix it (and he's very handy, so if my dad is stumped, it must be FUBARED). Anyways, the spouse saw a challenge, rose to the occasion, and got my dad a new leaf blower.... a nice, even exchange.... after 3 years of usage on the old one.

So I never panic when something breaks or gets worn. My husband just called me to tell me that our 3 year old chaisse lounge got soaked by a lovely downpour. We're storing quite a bit of our furniture in my dad's garage since we're in the middle of moving, and my dad likes to keep his garage open during the day... and when it rains, it pours...literally.... and before he could shut the garage door.... the chaisse lounge received a lovely, rain-water bath.

My husband told my dad that "Joanne's gonna be so mad when she gets home and sees this", so now my dad is franctically working to dry the darn thing. I told my husband not to worry... he can just return it.

We recently acquired some antiques that came with the house we purchased, and I'm sure most of it is junk because the guardian who sold us the property scavenged through everything before the final transaction, but I started thinking, "why not have my husband return all the pieces to various stores throughout Ohio?" I bet we'd make a nice buck.

A few weeks ago, my brother-in-law bought some kind of "sturdy blow-up pool" for his kids that's been keeping him up nights - he has nightmares of mass-flooding and causing a grand exodus in Northfield, Ohio via a yet-to-be-built Ark, so he's replacing it with a sturdier, aluminum-based pool. I told him if he has any problem returning the other pool, call my husband.

My husband got this look of excitement in his eyes when I mentioned that he might get a call. I don't even get that look if I stand naked in front of him. All I get is the rolling of the eyes and a "you're blocking the big-screen tv....and believe me, there's enough of you to block it."

Perhaps he is sizing me up. I think he has plans to return me after about 2 decades of usage.

2006-06-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

In addition to getting laid off today from Miracle Ear (she had a feeling this was coming - business has been slow...they've been letting people go... and she was going to retire in September anyways), she got caught standing stark naked by a strange man in her apartment.

Ok - my mom is under five feet.... overweight... just to paint a quick visual. She was slated to get a new dishwasher in her apartment, but they never told her when.

So this morning, she wakes up and walks out of her bedroom - naked as a jay bird - only to find an African American man she's never seen before in her kitchen - installing this dish washer. She said the conversation went something like this:

She: "OH MY GOD!"
He: "OH M GOD!"
She: "OH MY GOD!"

All she saw were the whites of his eyes... and she fears she scarred him for life.

2006-06-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

I heard the most ridiculous thing last night on "Entertainment Weekly": the Olsen Twins are trying to get a tv show where they advise kids on eating and nutrition!

I can just see it:

Mary Kate: "I ate a whole pea last night. Now I have to spend 3 more hours at the gym."

Ashley: "You fattty fat fat, you! See, kids, this is what happens when you binge eat! You start to pack on the pounds like my chubby sister, Mary Kate! Remember, pace yourself throughout the day. Small portions! It's all about portion control!"

Mary Kate: "My sister is right. Now I won't be able to fit into my size 00000000 jeans. Eating every day is not healthy!"

Ashley: "Remember the 4 food groups: gum, pen caps, straws, and ice cubes. But make sure the gum is sugarless, and limit yourself to a half a piece a week."

Mary Kate: "If your parents force you to eat all your vegetables, kill them. They're only trying to make you fat so you live a miserable life filled with self-loathing."

Ashley: "If you can stand sideways and see yourself, you're too fat. Kill anyone who can see you."

Mary Kate: "Remember, kids, if you cannot be blown away by a gust of wind on a warm summer's day, you're too fat. Kill everyone."

(What's next? A music video starring Paris Hilton?? Too late...)

2005-07-15T10:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Sir Holiness Your Popeness:
In the recent light of the latest Harry Potter novel - "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince", it has come to my attention that these books are pure evil. Since I don't have a life, I have had the time to read and reread these books... forwards and backwards.
I have intellectually and intelligently concluded that we need to get these books off the shelves and get kids focused on important things again like reality tv shows and what Paris Hilton is wearing.
I made the following observations whilest reading said books.
1. The name Harry Potter - Cantcha see the cymbalism inherent in that name? Hello! Observe: "Hurry... (getch yer)Pot Here" !!! JK Rowlings is promoting drugs!
2. Quidditch - Again....cymbalic - the message is blatant: "Quick! Ditch (school) !"
3. The mere mention of a dragon - can one not see-eth that if you rearrange the letters and drop one... there is a GONAD hidden within? What was that wild bohemian nymphomaniacical woman thinking!!! Does she not realize how easily influenced children are? We will have a population of gonad-grabbing youngsters with no respect for their private parts!
4. The title of her first book - "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" - if you remove most of the letters and rearrange 5 of them, there's a PENIS in there! She is promoting that young boys everywhere display theirs in public... and then go out and get stoned on pot!
5. And what about "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" - I'm sure there's a breast in there somewhere! It's so obvious if you, again, rearrange the letters whilest dropping many. What kind of message is she sending to young girls everywhere!! Breast-enhancement jobs will be on the rise!
6. Even more outrageous: "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" - why not just name one of her charcters Master Bates!!! Then we wouldn't have to spend so much precious time rearranging letters and dropping some!
7. Lastly, and most importantly, if you read the book backwards - it's not about black magic and wizards as some would have you believe. It's all about SEX! Pure unadulterated, hot and steamy, downright sultry sex (excuse me ...I'm having a moment....even us adults are hooked on these books...no wonder!)
I would bet my intelligence of which I have plenty as you can see from my above argumentatively sound and logical points that JK Rowling has stock in Pampers, and her masterplan is to encourage sex amongest our youth so that we see an increase in teenage pregnancies which will, in turn, skyrocket the sale of Pampers and thus increase her bank account! It's always about the money, your Royalness Highness!
Please invest the valuable time to investigate and remove such literature from our world instead of wasting time doing other not so valuable things. We have enough commandments.
Sincerely,
A Concerned and Intelligent Muggle

2005-03-08T10:19:00.000-08:00

A Touching Moment...

The other night, my husband and I were listening to/watching the Sarah Brightman DVD my mom bought us for Christmas, and when the song "Time To Say Goodbye" came on, my husband had a sad moment and requested that I play that at his funeral.

So I asked him what song he would play at my funeral should I hook up with the Grim Reaper first. With a look of seriousness and sadness in his eyes, he said, "Hang on. I have the perfect song." Then he proceeded to remove the Sarah Brightman DVD and pop in a CD...and the following song blasted from the speakers of our tv: "Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap".

I told him to be sure to bury me inside a Looney Tunes coffin along with my Butters-from-SouthPark doll...what more can a woman ask...

2005-01-06T18:25:00.000-08:00

Kick-Ass Chicks in Film - women who I find cool in flicks:

Uma Thurman - The Bride -"Kill Bill Volume I & II"
Carrie Ann Moss - Trinity - "The Matrix" trilogy
Mila Jovovich - Alice - "Resident Evil" and "Resident Evil - Apocalypse"
Michelle Yeoh - Yu Shu Lien - "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"
Ziyi Zhang - the other cool chick - "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"
Kate Beckingsdale - Anna Valerious - "Van Helsing"
Angelina Jolie - "Lara Croft -Tomb Raider"
Sigourney Weaver - Ripley - "Alien", "Aliens" etc.
Jamie Lee Curtis - Laurie Strode - "Halloween" etc.

Favorite lines from "Kill Bill" - Uma first waking up from coma - beating the shit outta Buck: "Your name is Buck and you like to Fuck" - reading his keychain: "PussyWagon.... You FUCKER" - and then WHAM - she bashes his head with the door - can't get any better than that ;-)

2005-01-06T13:41:00.000-08:00

Inspired by a story about a guy from Cleveland who is suing "Fear Factor" (NBC) for $2.5 million because he watched an episode where the contestants ate rats - and it caused him much distress and nausea.

Dear Lawyers:

I would like to request legal counseling and representation for the following mental anguish I have suffered over the years:

When I was a little girl, my mom read me a story called "Hansel and Gretal". As a child, I thought it was ok to shove someone into a hot oven if they were pissing you off and trying to eat you and/or your sibling. I therefore tried to cook my mom, a couple of my friends, and this really annoying babysitter when I was about 8 years old. Not that they tried to eat me - they were just really pissing me off.

My mom also read me a story about a talking Gingerbread Man. Now, every time I walk past a bakery, I scream and vomit. Cookies should not talk, nor should they be portrayed as such.

I also convinced my sister at a young age to let her hair grow down past her ass to her feet so she could toss it out the window and I could attempt to climb it. I nearly strangled her on a few occasions, and she hates me to this day because of it.

And how grisly is this:
"The wolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother's bed, and devoured her. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains."

I mean, it's one thing that he ate the old hag, but did he have to dress in her CLOTHES?? What kind of a sick, twisted, talking animal would perform such a travesty! Because of this, I now have a fear of night caps, thank you very much!

And here is why salt causes me mental anguish on a daily basis:
"The cook had to salt them, and the wicked queen ate them, and thought she had eaten the lung and liver of Snow White."

I also hate frogs, dogs, pigs, jigs, wigs, goats, moats, geese, girls, boys, men, women, children, people, and Mother Nature.

Due to the graphic nature of that stories, I would like to sue the Brothers Grimm for one BILLION dollars. I don't care that they are dead.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

2005-01-03T10:36:00.000-08:00

While we were at my dad's on Saturday for New Year's Day, my 7-year old nephew, Dominic decided to take some plastic cups (there were only about 6 left in the whole house) and build a tower, which then morphed into a puppet. He taped them all together and drew a face on the top one, and he taped it so that the top cup moved, like a mouth. Then he put one of my dad's dirty old socks on the bottom - and wallah - instant puppet. So this kept him occupied for awhile - putting on puppet shows, etc. Well, Anthony, my 4-year old nephew, decides to be a terror and proceeds to want the puppet, too. So of course, Dominic won't give it to him - after all - he made it... so Anthony decides to punch the puppet - and it breaks. So my sister and I play "doctor" (not in any visually appealing way) and have to keep taping this mountain of cups over and over again. And this goes on for what seemed like HOURS! My Point: of all the toys these boys got for Christmas...and of all the toys at my dad's - they're fighting over a plastic-cup-dirty-sock-tower (that my gramma said looked like a big wiener - thanks for the visual, grams).

And of course there was only one measly cup left to make Anthony a puppet - so all he ended up with was a cup-in-a-sock.

Next year, I now know what to get my nephews for Christmas....cups...and used socks....

2004-12-18T20:34:00.000-08:00

Need to add "Alien", "Aliens", and "Predator" to the list below :-) And "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", "X-Men", "HellBoy", "PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN" , and a plethora of others!!! Let's face it- I'm a movie buff!

2004-12-18T20:02:00.000-08:00

Since I can't think of anything really important to say, here's a list of some movies that fall under my "Kick-Ass Movies" category (not in any particular order - focus on action/blood/gore/scary):
Van Helsing
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
The Incredibles
Kill Bill (Volumes I & II)
SpiderMan II
Phantoms - cuz Ben Affleck is "the bomb" in that ;-)
Ghost Ship
Speed
Matrix movies (all 3)
From Dusk Til Dawn
Tremors
Superman I & II
Star Wars (all of 'em)
Stir of Echoes
Executive Decision
Air Force One
Beverly Hills Cop
Young Frankenstein (ok - not action/gore, etc - but love it!)
Nightmare On Elm Street
Halloween

There are so many...and I can only think of a few right now. When the first Superman movie came out - I couldn't get enough of it! My mom took my sister and me to Mayland movie theater in Mayfield Hts., OH (which later morphed into a Barnes&Noble bookstore...which later morphed into an empty "for lease" building...and it remains so to this day), and the theater was so packed that we had to sit separately. It was the coolest movie for me at the time. And then there were the Superman cards - the ones that came with bubble gum that showed various scenes from the movie -what was cooler! "Raiders of the Lost Ark" had the same effect on me - saw that one for the first time at Center Mayfield - and I don't think I blinked the entire time! Too cool (the movie - not that I didn't blink).

And on that note, good night to no one - my audience.

This is a Blogger Test

2004-11-12T18:01:00.000-08:00

This is a test of some cool blogger functionality. I should be able to email my blogger and have this posted - like magic

Do you Yahoo!?
Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page. www.yahoo.com

2004-11-12T17:36:00.000-08:00

Do you know what I find annoying? STUPID PERSONALIZED LICENSE PLATES! Take, for example,one I saw this morning. The car: a bright yellow VW Beetle. The license plate: VW Btle. Imean, what's the point??? Is this in case you FORGET what kinda car you have? "I can't remember that I just bought a lemon-coloredbuggy looking car...so it's a good thing I labelled it on my license plate." Or perhaps there's a fear that you won't be able to pickyour BRIGHTLY-GLOWING-YOU-NEED-SUNGLASSES-TO-LOOK-AT-IT BUG from a line up of other cars (none of which are likely to be vw beetles)."Good thing I got that darn personalized license plate thingymajig! There's SO many cars here! Look at all thecars-that-are-not-beetles-but-that-still-might-confuse-me-even-though-none-of-them-are-brightly-glowing-hazardous-to-your-eyes-yellowparked in this here parking lot!"Might as well write your name on all your clothes!But it doesn't end there.

The other perfectly annoying license plate I saw this morning: InShape. WHO CARES??? I have to say, itwould've been rather funny if the person driving that car was, like, 300 pounds, but it was just some chick who looked, well, inshape. Thanks for sharing, honey. I was wondering if you were!

My personal favorite: Sweety2. I see this chick every so often on the ride to Goodyear (on route 8). What's sad is that there is probably a Sweety and a Sweety1 riding around out there, too.

What's even sadder...I suppose I need a life if I'm reading license plates on the way to work and getting annoyed by them.

2003-11-17T14:14:00.000-08:00

Funny - after 18 years of being outta high school, I find out that I was the class valedictorian! And all these years I thought the kudos went to Wilbur Lo. My sister called me and told me this. She had called to make an eye appointment for my dad, and a girl I went to kindergarten, grade school, and most of high school happens to be the receptionist. So they got to talking about yours truly, and Trisha (the girl - I have a hard time using the word 'woman' when it comes to people my age) asked how I was doing, and then she said, "wasn't Joanne valedictorian of our class?" My sister says, "I don't think so." But Trisha insisted I was, so my sister agreed, and thus it has become law.

So my sister asks, "were you?" And I explain, no. The honor went to Wilbur Lo. I was number 8 out of about 400 students - first GIRL I might add - the first 7 were BOYS - but who remembers such things.

So then my sister asks, "didn't you write a song that was sung at your graduation? Didn't you play the piano for it?" Yes...yes, I did. Music Theory II - project. It was either write a song or a paper - no contest between which task was the more exciting.

So my sister tells me, "well, it's more impressive to be a musician than a valedictorian." So there you have it. I am also a musician whose song made such an impression on a member of my graduating class that she remembered some speech I never gave as the valedictorian.

I can just see it now - my 20th high school reunion: "And now a few words from our valedictorian...." (insert image of Wilbur Lo standing up, ready to move towards the podium) "Heeeeeerrrrrrrreeeee's JO!"

Thank yew very much.

2003-09-19T20:33:00.000-07:00

It's late - well, for me - so I'm lucky I can think half-coherently right now...Hell! I'm lucky if I can think half-coherently ever...so this is REALLY a less-than-mind-boggling thought (but note the cleverness in the 'play' on my blog title - not so incoherent now, huh! Who the hell am I talking to!).

Anyways, if I could own my own business, it would have to be a combination of a bookstore/music store/ice cream shop/work-out facility. See, this way, you can eat as much ice cream as you want without the guilt since you'll have a place to work it off while reading your favorite book and listening to some cool music! Who am I kidding - scratch the workout facility part. So that leaves the bookstore/music store/ice cream shop. But I wouldn't just sell CDs and stuff - this would be a musical instrument store as well so I could play all the instruments all day - I'd be my own One Chick Band. I've given a lot of thought to the name of my business, too. I'd call it (ready?) "A Lick, A Stick, A Pic, and a.....Book!" Betcha thought I was gonna say something other than book, huh. And therein lies the beauty of the name. You lick ice cream cones, you need a (drum)stick to play drums, you need a (guitar) pic for strumming, and then the book is, well, no explanation needed.

Ok - that sucks. Totally lame attempt at late night humor - a not-very-successful one at that. Sounded funnier in my own mind - and then on paper - not so funny.

I've got this real addiction to books, though. I buy books the way most women buy shoes. Don't get me wrong, I like to buy shoes...but books are, well, more important. When I was little and my mom used to take me to the library (this goes back to when I was about 5 years old), I remember taking out so many books, I could barely carry them! And back in the olden days, you had to print the name of every book on a teeny 3x5" piece of paper, and then you had to fill out the flipside with author information. Think of it - I'm 5 years old - I use LADDY pencils! I write BIG! It would take about 30 of these teeny tiny sheets for me to sign out 10 books! I was devastated when the librarian told my mom, "her writing is a bit big. Maybe you should help her fill these out next time." I wanted to smack that librarian upside the head with my laddie pencil and write BITCH in thick, lead-colored letters across her forehead. To this day, I cannot look at a laddie pencil without flashbacks.

I still can't go into a library without taking out at least 15 books. I do read them all - for the most part. My husband's told me that I could read with a war going on outside - and he's right. Today I went to a bookstore and came out 6 books richer - and happy as a clam :-) Too many books to read...never enough time.

2003-03-18T11:00:00.000-08:00

Still don't have much of anything to say.

2003-01-13T09:43:00.000-08:00

Damn - it's been a long time since I've written anything here, so here's something - I call it Something because it's better than Nothing, although it really isn't Anything much.

2002-10-10T18:34:00.000-07:00

TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A DON PABLOS ADDICT - AND A MYSTERIOUS SITUATION
Okay - so it's been about 3 weeks since my husband and I visited the ever-swingin' and always hoppin' Don Pablos, and we were greatly missed. You know the staff has it bad for you when the manager comes up and says, "How have you been, Mrs. Don Pablo? Here's the keys to the safe. Make sure you lock up all the money and turn off all the lights before you leave." I told him I had a few ideas for some changes around the place, like free food forever for anyone who's name was spelled KEEL. He smiled politely as he threw salsa in my face and yanked the keys to the safe outta my hand.

So that's that. I refuse to go back there until tomorrow night!

Speaking of night, I find myself faced with quite the little mystery, and if anyone out there can help me solve this, please feel free to give me a holler. I don't know how this is happening, but I see men's dress pants...all the time...at night...on my bed. I can't understand this. I know my husband only has 2 legs, and I see him put on one pair of pants each morning, but somehow, when the sky darkens, a dress-pants convention occurs on my bed! Well, usually it's just dress pants, but the occasional pair of jeans will make an appearance now and then. I mean, we're talking empty bed in the morning...pants parade at night. I don't get it! I find at least 3 pairs of pants laying on my bed by the time I go up to bed. When I ask my husband what's up, he goes into complete denial.

"I don't know what you're talking about."
"But honey, if you'd just look, you'd see them...alive...right in front of your very eyes!"
"You're crazy. I see nothing."
"Look! Pants! There! On the bed!"
"You were dropping acid again a little earlier today, huh."

Complete and utter denial. But regardless of how many times I hang them in his closet, by nightfall, they roam to the bed. So I've begun to wonder if maybe...just maybe...my husband wears 3 pairs of pants at one time. Or, worse yet, he has 6 legs and he can move them so fast it appears as if he only has 2 (which would explain why he's always tired). Or, gulp, the pants live. If that's the case, I'll need to rally up some skirts and plot my revenge! So as you can see, I'm faced with a true X-File, one that would even challenge the likes of Fox Mulder.

Okay - here's another one for ya. If this is a man thing, then leaving the toilet seat up is nothing compared to this next one. What's up with the wet feet! Why is it so hard to dry ones feet on a warm, fuzzy bath towel when one climbs out of the shower? Why must one saunter through every room in the house, like a duck, leaving ones watery footprints on every floor, just waiting to spoil the innocent and dry socks of ones wife? I just don't get it, but my socks surely do. (Hmmm...if my husband has 6 legs, that would mean he has 6 feet which could explain how he can, within minutes, manage to soak every floor in the house. Note to self: count his shoes after he leaves for work...and soak his socks).

So the moral of my story is - don't go to Don Pablos without any pants and be sure to dry your feet - all 6 of them.

2002-10-04T18:43:00.000-07:00

What Sucks - By JMKeel
Rude People Suck
Rude People Really Suck
Mothers who abandon their children (The thought of this makes me cry - didn't anyone ever see "Kramer vs. Kramer"? To this day, as great an actress as she is...I have a dislike for Meryl Streep for dumping Dustin and Justin)
People with Egos
People who THINK they know it all when they know abso-frikkin'-lutely nothing!
People who cut you off when you're talking and then speak for you
People who don't have a friggin' clue
Me because I ate the bottom of my husband's leftover birthday cake since that's the best part - I'm so selfish
People who talk to you when you're working out hard even though you tell them that you're not very talkative while you work out and you don't mean to be rude but you need every ounce of energy to get through your workout...and then they still proceed to ask you questions or tell you about their life stories which are quite mundane from your perspective since you have no idea who they even are.
Pushy People
Me because I find a lot of things that suck
Really cold weather
The fact that life is so damn short
Extremely rude and egotistical and pushy people
People who get offended easily over non-offensive stuff...but then most likely abandon their children
People who find things like pornography offensive...but then turn around and treat someone rudely...and then abandon their children.

You know what doesn't suck? A good thunderstorm on a dark night accompanied by an old Count Dracula movie...that's actually something I find to be quite erotic and intriguing - always have - even as a little kid (note the irony - Dracula doesn't suck.)

You know what else doesn't suck but what's kinda weird? This morning, when I turned on my car radio first thing - 97.5FM - I just missed the intro to "Sweet Child of Mine" but caught the song moving into the very first verse. And on my way home from work - same radio station - I caught the exact same song at the exact same moment - right past the intro and moving into the first verse. Weird cuz I love that song and haven't heard it in awhile. I have no idea what that means (which means it probably means absolutely nothing) - but that didn't suck at all. That was actually quite cool.

Being tired at 9:41pm on a Friday night sucks...and so does writer's block.

2002-10-03T12:33:00.000-07:00

Due to the violent nature of this entry, I am removing all guarantees from my template letter that I posted yesterday. Use at your own risk.

Dear Joanne:

Good to hear from you! It was with such pleasure and great slowness that I read your letter, as one can only read so fast with one eye. I am doing very well. I haven’t had a date in years and the back of my head has split open like a cracked melon. Yes, I’m doing very well indeed. So well, you skanky whore, that I can’t thank you enough for all the friggin’ love you bestowed upon me throughout our years together. The babes are especially attracted to that sorry-excuse-for-an-eye that your special surgeon – Dr. Fuck Up – created for me. I really enjoyed the sharp pinch of that needle going in and out of my empty eye socket. Thanks for pulling out the stitches over and over again, you dumb bitch. And thanks for yanking my ears off from time to time. That was always a real trip. I can hear about as much as Helen Keller now, and I can almost read lips when my one good eye isn’t dangling from a thread.

You’re probably sitting there, looking all cute with your two eyes, two ears, and your feet. Did you ever try to get a date looking a step above roadkill, you no good, c*^k-sucking slut? Did you ever try to walk with no feet? Did you ever try to kiss someone when you have no lips? I can’t even get a place on the Island of MisFit Toys thanks to your wonderful “affection” and “cuddling”. Charlie-In-the-Box tells me there’s a big difference between a MisFit and a grade-A, low life ugly mother-f*^ker such as myself, you mother-f*^king Scumbag.

I’m gonna get you, bitch! You’re ass is mine, you skank!

By the way, how’s that trampy sister of yours doing? Ask her if she remembers that neck surgery she hired Dr. Mommy to perform on our good friend, Saddy Face. Tell her that the piece of raggy-ass towel that the Good Doctor shoved inside his neck now smells like rotting flesh, which is perfect since he looks like a freakin’ rotting corpse. He’s a real hit at parties. Tell that ho sister of yours that Saddy “the Slasher” Face sends his love.

I look forward to the day when I can rip out one of your eyes and staple it shut. I dream about the night when I can tear off your lips and shove them up your hoity-toity ass, Girlfriend.

Keepin’ it real – still lovin ya lots!

Bunny the Basher

P.S. We did have good times together back in the day, huh. Thanks for the f*^kin’ memories!

2002-10-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

This letter is for parents everywhere to use as a template for children who must part ways with any friends of the Stuffed-Toy race.

Inspired by true events
Dear Bunny:

Oh how I miss you so. I miss your orange belly button – at least I think it was orange – it was always kinda dirty…actually, your whole body – which I used to hug against my own - was stained with dirt. I would have probably been better off hugging a bag of garbage since it probably would’ve been less of a health hazard…but, anyways, I still miss you in spite of your lack of personal hygiene. You’re filthy yellow and blue belly brought me joy, and even though you didn’t have any feet…because your little pink, bendable appendages at some point fell off and even Dr. Mommy – who was a real specialist in bunny surgery – couldn’t reattach them – you still brought me joy. I cry at the thought of your footless existence. You were such a trooper in spite of your handicap. I barely noticed your missing eye (which was quite nightmarish now that I think about it…that asterisk-shaped eye made of black thread staring into nothingness), and your floppy ears that must’ve fallen off at least 50 times…which gave you a head the shape of a rotten peach…making you completely bald like Mister Clean since any fur you once possessed had completely fallen off….never noticed it. Even though you resembled something that had returned from Stephen King’s Pet Cematery…you still brought me such joy. I loved to snuggle up with you at night and wake to your one-eyed face, and once I stopped screaming from the nightmarish quality of that one-eye staring at me…I would kiss you. But I never noticed that you didn’t have a mouth…or a nose. Well, you kinda had a nose…but most of it had peeled off your face by the time I was 3 years old. But I knew you didn’t suffer from leprosy. You just suffered from too much loving.

So, Bunny, I know not where you are…but wherever it is…I know you’re happy.

P.S. Did you ever get that rip in your back fixed so your guts don’t pour out anymore? I hope so.

Love,
Joanne

2002-09-25T08:52:00.000-07:00

Okay - I haven't written anything in a few weeks, so why start now? This entry - compliments of my sister Rosemarie - regarding her 2 year old son Anthony and Little Pink Bunny....

"You know Anthony's little pink bunny that he carries around (along with his bottle and Chubby Yellow Bunny)? Well, last week, he lost it at Carol's house. He was upset, but has been doing just fine with chubby bunny. Carol searched her house high and low, asked other parents if, perhaps, bunny had made his way into their diaper bags. I searched the jeep, thinking it may have fallen out in there. I knew it wasn't at our house b/c i noticed it missing when I took the diaper bag out of the jeep at 8 p.m. on this tragic night.

Well, this bunny must have 9 lives (it has been lose and found multiple times). I have been telling Anthony all week, "Did you hide it? It must be at Carol's. You have to help her find it", etc. Carol just called with groundbreaking news:

Bunny has been found! Anthony went outside in her yard this a.m. (and her yard is huge, has lots of Little Tyke stuff, a big sandbox that her hubby put in - a great play place for kids) - she said that Anthony headed straight for the sandbox (where she had previously checked as well), goes to a location and says 'bunny'. Carol says "what did you say"? "bunny" - lo and behold, Carol sees a teeny tiny ear sticking out of the sand. She pulled it out and there was bunny - dirty, icky yet still in tact. Needless to say, she and Anthony ran him thru the washer and he is fresh as new. Anthony must have remembered, or he just saw the ear. Not sure, but that's my story.

Moral is - buy 3 more bunnies for back up.

2002-09-11T18:36:00.000-07:00

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." -Robert Frost

"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it." -W. M. Lewis

"May you live every day of your life." -Jonathan Swift

2002-09-09T19:06:00.000-07:00

Understanding a two-year old is more challenging than trying to solve the Riddle of the Sphinx, unless you’ve upgraded to the Mother Level. Case in point - my conversation with my 2-year old nephew, Anthony, at his birthday party yesterday:

He: “Bim.”
Me: “Bim?”
He: “No. Brim.”
Me: “Brim? You want a brim?”
He (quite exasperated now at my stupidity): “No! No! Bim! Bim!”

I’d have more of a chance finding the Ark of the Lost Covenant than understanding this lingo. As my sister approached (who, in addition to understanding Two-Year Oldian, has also magically grown eyes all over her head since she’s able to keep an eye, or rather, eyes on about 9 kids who are high on sugar and cranky from the heat), she looked at me with perplexity, trying to figure out what all the confusion was about.

So I asked her, “What’s brim?” Anthony by now is probably ready to bean me with his juice cup.

My sister patiently stooped down to Anthony’s level (yet another perk of the Mother Level – the ability to shape-shift down to the height of a toddler), stared into his big (and quite angry by now) brown eyes, and questioned, “brim?”

He: “Brim! Brim!”
She: “Oh. Blimp. He’s telling you about the 4 Goodyear Blimps we saw today.” Clear as a bell. Easy as pie. What was I thinking.

He: “Four. Park.”
She: “We saw them at the park.”

Well, now that I’ve learned a few new words of this Two-Year-Oldian lingo, I’m all that and ready to bring it on. So, with a look of pride on my face, I walk Anthony over to the grandparents and say, “Anthony, tell Nana and Other Nana what you saw today.”

He: “Nana! Nana! Brim! Brim!”

The looks of confusion on their faces was enough to make me laugh. Ha! They of the old, antiquated Mother Level were challenged.

Me: “Duh…he’s telling you he saw the 4 Goodyear Blimps today…four of them…at the park.”
He: “Four. Park.”

Anthony and I celebrated our new-found connection with juice cups and some silly game whereby he would “tickle” tree branches and ramble on in more of his language. I had learned enough for one day and told him to take it easy on me. After all, I’m only the aunt.

However, a big, sloppy kiss, a “yuv you” and a “see ya yater” translated just fine from his lips to my ears – some concepts, regardless of the language, are universal.

2002-09-06T19:51:00.000-07:00

I just sat through 2 hours of watching brain-draining, super-sized, alien bugs (no – I’m not still in meetings at work). The movie is “Starship Troopers” (which I’ve seen before so that tells you a lot about me – the fact that I’ve watched it again), and if you have a desire to see humans open cans of whoop-ass on a mess-load of insects, this is the movie for you. Brain Bug is pretty cool – he looks like a giant, rippling kidney bean with about 10 eyes and a brain-sucking device. Hmmm…makes you wonder if about 90% of the human race hasn’t fallen prey to his suction.

***Look forward to what I’m sure will be a humorously, thought-provoking and intriguing article on this whole 90% theory on the blog of one of the most intelligent people I know – who also happens to be one of the greatest friends a person could ever hope to meet. So when that article is written, I will certainly link you to it.

Chris – Now that I’ve built this up…and it’s not that I’m trying to put any undo pressure on you but…is it done yet? Is it done yet? Is it done yet? Here’s a little inspirational quote to get you started:
J: "Why the big secret? People are smart, they can handle it."
K: "A *person* is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it."
(Men In Black)

Speaking of bugs (or maybe speaking of dangerous animals), my husband and I have become the pests of Don Pablos. First of all, the bartender commented, “You two are becoming regulars,” and I’m thinking, “BECOMING? This is our second home! I DREAM about this place!” But you know you’ve gone over the edge when the manager travels from table to table to see how everyone’s doing, and when he gets to your table, he stops, lets out a startled, “Oh!” and then says, “This is pretty scary. You look more familiar to me than my own wife does.” I’m officially afraid…of what I’ve become.

Well, I intended to rant and rave about how much I hate rude people tonight (I don’t just hate them tonight – I hate them all the time…I was just planning to spew off at the mouth tonight about how much I hate rude people because rude people really piss me off and make me want to use everyday household items as weapons), but due to the pleasantries of my evening (brain-draining bugs, the love from Don Pablos, thoughts of building a house made of chocolate – a house in which I would be VERY handy because I could do things like gnaw out a spiral staircase, or eat my way through the roof if I want a skylight - I will postpone my Rude-People Rage for a future entry).

2002-09-03T19:02:00.000-07:00

I haven’t listened to Howard Stern in awhile, so it was funny in a weird and coincidental way that he and the gang were talking about Eminem this morning. They were reviewing segments of the VMA show, and they played a tape of Eminem giving his acceptance speech: “I don’t know what to say when I be winning these awards.” (At least he uses a form of the “to be” verb – please refer to my entry from yesterday). Robin Quivers said, “I really wanna see someone jump on that stage and beat the crap outta him.” So there you have it. I’m not the only one who thinks that dude’s messed up.

In addition, another moment that made me chuckle was when Howard started ragging on Justin Timberlake (Nsync for the small percent of the population who possibly have never heard of Brillo Head). Howard said that he thinks the song “I’m Not A Girl (Not Yet A Woman)” was really written for Justin Timberlake and Brittany Spears just stole it from him. Howard goes, “He (Justin) might as well go all the way and get breast implants.”

And speaking of (no – not breast implants) Nsync, another member – Lance Bass, who’s trying to get into outerspace – was told by the Russians not to quit his day job. Apparently his backers can’t pay the gazillion dollars to send him. (Maybe we should send Justin instead. Contributions anyone? Anyone?)

And speaking of outerspace, I haven’t had any cool and exciting dreams about traveling through space or about aliens coming down to earth lately. I’ve had versions of that dream a few times, and for some reason the alien spacecrafts are always surrounded by bright and colorful fireworks. Instead, my dreams have been quite mundane. For example, I dreamt one night last week that my husband and I were at Don Pablos (a local Mexican restaurant that I’ve grown to call ‘my kitchen’ since we’re there practically every freakin’ night), and while we were there, the waiter kept asking us if we wanted more nacho chips…and we kept saying yes…and we kept eating them. How dull is that!

No dreams of espionage, action, adventure, sex…just nacho nibbling at Don Pablos. I did have a dream a few days later that someone was trying to frame me for murder, and I was lying in bed with 2 dead bodies (Freudians – please calm your twisted and disturbed minds), and there was blood all over my bedroom wall. In retrospect, I believe it was the waiter from Don Pablos trying to frame me so I couldn’t keep coming back. Bastard!

Another reoccurring dream I have is that of a huge tidal wave heading my way, but I always manage to be up high enough in some hotel room so it won’t kill me. And I’ve also dreamt a few times that I could breathe under water (maybe that’s why I’m not afraid of the tidal wave – I’m part mermaid), and, yes, even float through the air – but nothing as high-tech as what you see in “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” (which is a goal of mine to learn how to move like that – would save me a lot of money on gas to get to work).

A really bizarre dream I had when I was about five years old – and it’s stayed with me ever since. I dreamt that my mom had a bunch of tiny bandaids on her face, and when she peeled them away, beneath each bandaid was an eye, so she had like 50 eyes all over her face. I’ve never looked at my mom the same again…or maybe SHE’S never looked at me the same, what with all those eyes.

Morpheus: Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world? (The Matrix)

Another bizarre dream I’ve had was about these women who were pregnant, but you could see baby aliens inside their bellies, since their bellies were made up of some clear, see-through-type skin. (I swear I don’t sniff glue or inhale paint fumes...much).

So in conclusion (BIG FLAG TO THE READER THAT THIS IS MY LAST PARAGRAPH IN CASE YOU DIDN’T CATCH ON), since I often dream of aliens and flying through outer space, and since it’s evident that my mother is an alien (just ask my husband and my brother-in-law), and since I’ve been drawn to the “X-Files” since day one, I must accept the fact that I am a martian. So I will no longer fret about my freakish ways which I now understand to be normal. Instead, I will continue to observe this race you call Human and attempt to understand its idiosyncracies.

Morpheus: What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad. (The Matrix)

2002-09-02T20:16:00.000-07:00

"Mama....I never meant to hurt you...I never meant to make you cry but I'm...just cleanin' out my closet." (Eminem)
"Mama...I never meant to hurt you...and now you just cry and cry cuz I...refuse to clean my closet." (Me - the teenage years)

Eminem is one angry dude (unlike Ferris Bueller who's one righteous dude). You know what makes me angry? (See, I had to come up with some sort of segue into this so I figure who better to open the Angry Doors than Eminem?) I'll tell you what makes me angry (and I have to get this off my chest since I've heard this a few times in the last few days). Folks, when Hamlet said, "To be or not to be," he was not giving you a choice whether 'tis nobler to use the "to be" verb family or not. Please do not butcher the English language and say that your broken refrigerator "needs fixed" or your ketchup-stained, white shirt "needs washed." (And Eminem thinks he has problems!) In the immortal words of MacCauley Caulkin in "Home Alone" after he slaps aftershave onto his freshly shaven 8 year old face, "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Something else that makes me go "AAAAAAAHHHH" (again...needed the transition):
"I have been a slut many times but never a whore." - Ginger Lynn, E True Hollywood Stories

Ginger, a rose by any other name...

And that's about all I have in me for tonight.

2002-09-01T19:48:00.000-07:00

Serendipity: Can you believe it? Me -- a muse, for God's sake! I sit down in front of the typewriter, and what do I get? Nothing. Blank page. I can't even write a grocery list.
Bethany: What about what you did with Jay and Silent Bob? You inspired them.
Serendipity: That's the cosmic joke. I can give out a zillion and nine ideas a second, but I can't keep any for myself.
(Dogma ... on my list of movies to definitely see.)

Not that I'm a muse by no means - amusing, maybe, a muse - no...but that's how I feel sometimes (not like a muse, just idea-less). And when I attempt to write down my ideas into a format that would enthrall, intrigue, and entertain an audience...nothing...nada...blankity blank. And that's exactly how my brain feels tonight - empty. So I'll write about my soon-to-be-two-year-old nephew instead who is very entertaining, especially during the final musical numbers in "Shrek". He practically sings every word with his 'big' brother Dominic (who is all of 5 years old), and when the song "I Like Big Butts" comes on, he manages to squat all the way down to the floor (which isn't very far since he's only a tad taller than my knees...and that's not saying much since my knees aren't all that far off the ground), and without touching his butt to the ground, he bounces up and down in perfect rhythm. And to the song "Who Let the Dogs Out", he responds perfectly with "woof...woof"... When you ask him if he's smart, he replies with, "No. I cute." When you tell him he's in trouble, he shouts, "I NOT trouble!" (Or maybe that was me responding to my husband :-)

It's amazing to see how fast kids grow up. Dominic starts kindergarten next week. I can still remember parts of my first day of kindergarten. I remember marching around with some silly paper hat on my head to some silly song (not just me alone, the whole class...else I would've been really traumatized). And speaking of silly, I'm sure my outfit was just that; or if not, then as time progressed. There are pictures hidden deep within caverns and catacombs underneath my dad's house that display mixtures of vertical and horizontal stripes all on one body...well, two, since my sister dressed the same way. We resembled exploded boxes of crayola crayons, but according to my mom, we "looked beautiful."

Happy Gilmore: "If I ever caught myself dressed like that, I'd have to kick my own ass!"

My brother-in-law said my sister will NOT be dressing Dominic for school; that's what garanimals are for. I told him that we weren't allowed any kind of animals when we were little. Mom, was it too much to allow us to have a pet giraffe or a pet elephant or something to assist us with our sense (or rather lack of sense...in which case it was NONsense) of style?

2002-08-30T09:01:00.000-07:00

When I was little (I can’t remember how I old I was, and apparently I wasn’t smart enough to record the date), I actually finished a book I wrote entitled, “Book of World Records.” I was probably able to finish it because it had no chapters (which might be the key to getting this book-thing done). Here it is, since it’s probably one of my few completed works. It’s more effective with the pictures, but the words alone will have to do. This is posted “as-is”…no corrections on spelling or grammar…which is a bold thing for an English major to do:
 Skinnyest Man: The skinnyest man is Mike Anderson. He is 5’5” and weighs 3 pounds. He is not exactly bones yet but almost.
 Longest Note: Maryann Johnson started singing an she held the note for 1 month without stopping. Others have tried but there was know success. The other longest note was held for 18 days.
 Longest Jump: The longest jump was made by Elaine Martin. She jumped 80 feet. From her house to the other block. Others have tried but no sucess.
 Oldest Man: The oldest man is 150 years old. His name is John Alpo. The second oldest person was 130 but died.
 Longest Sleeper: Elizabeth Airline slept for 10 days. When she woke up she was still tired. Some others that have tried didn’t success.
 Longest Arm: Longest arm is 15 feet long. His name is Mark Wilson. He was born with a 5 foot arm. Now he is 10. His cloths have to be made seperate.
 Oldest Building: In Newyork City the oldest building still stands. It is 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 years old. It was built by Curva Mooma. He died at the age 90. No pieces were replaced.
(Note on the picture: Made up of water, sand and mud)
 Smartest Children: The Jason twins Caroll and John solved the problem 1,501,210,111 divided by 2,801,666=? In 14 sec. In there head.
 Smallest Plane: The smallest plane is 18 in. long 12 in. wide. The only person that can fit in is shown on the next page.
 Smallest Person: The smallest person is Caroll Manick. She is 3 in. high. When she was born she was as small as a dust speck. Her parents are both 6 ft. Shes the only one who can fit in the plane. She weighs 1 pound.
 Biggest Toe: Mark Johnson was born with an 8 ft. toe. Now he’s only 14 and his toe is 20 ft. He has to where sandles. He is 5’4”.
(The picture for this one is quite interesting.)
 Tallest People: The tallest people are Mr. And Mrs. Brown. They are both 14’5”. They were borned at 7 feet. They weigh 700 pounds.
(Note: The picture for this one compares them to an “ordinary” man and woman – 7’8” tall)
 Fatest Guy: The fatest guy weighs 8576 pounds. He is 5 feet. He hopes to gain more.
 Biggest Underwear: The biggest underwear is worn by the fatest guy in the world. The legs are 1,000 inches wide and the top is 8,000 inches.
 Longest Ears: Martha Candor has ears 5 ft. long. She is only 3 ft. and 4 years old. Sometimes she balances on her ears.
(Again…another interesting picture)
 Largest Candy bar: The largest candy bar is 8 ft. long. 7 ft. wide. It is a Milky Way. It is kept in a freezer 15 ft.
 Farthest Run: The farthest run was made by Anna Peto. She ran from her to California without stopping.
 Who ate the most spinach? John Cali ate 4 gallons of spinache in one day! He is still hungry. And he hates spinache.
 Fastest Wrighter: The fastest writer is Carla Branford. She wrote 1,000 words in a minute. Sometimes she writes 1,185.
 Biggest Glasses: The biggest glasses are 18 ft. They are so big they have to be brought in a special building.

So there you have it. My husband will occasionally ask me if I ever take anything seriously. I’ll share this with him the next time he asks and let him draw his own conclusions.

2002-08-28T19:04:00.000-07:00

Finally, the storm ended, as did the night, as does my story.

Phew! Finally completed a book! Wasn't as bad as I thought. And I owe my suspenseful, opening sentence to a beagle. I think I'll start on the sequel. Hopefully I'll be able to complete that in less time.

So now that I have absolutely nobody's attention, I'll begin my less than mind-bloggeling thoughts...since that's about all my brain is capable of handling. And in case anybody cares (or in case I someday lose my mind and can't remember the creative genius behind calling my Blog "Chapter 1..." – which I credit to a brilliant friend of mine who is capable of mind-BOGGLING thoughts), it's because I just can't get past the first chapter of any book I set out to write, which puts a damper on my small and humble dream of someday becoming a published writer. I envy the likes of Shakespeare, Dean Koontz, Ray Bradbury, and Dr. Seuss. (I would have listed Stephen King, but I'm a little peeved at him right now because he stole my idea for a book - Dream Catcher - an idea I had about 6 years ago - and now he's got a movie out about it and everything. So Stevie, dude! If you're reading my blog...let it be noted that...I was gonna say that I had the idea first, but, if you really are reading the blog of some chick from Ohio who has absolutely no claim to fame, then you have absolutely no life...)

Anyway, the purpose of my blog is to give me an outlet for rambling, and maybe someday all this rambling will actually emerge into a novel of some sort. Either that or it will be written validation that I should be committed. (Better not give my husband my blog address…he’s probably got his own list of reasons to lock me up somewhere ;-)

Validation #1: I think that Snap, Crackle, and Pop live with my husband and me. Why? Because every time I turn around, I find another box of Rice Krispie Treats on my kitchen counter! Either that or my husband has bought stock in them and has made it a high-priority goal of his to buy up every box he can find. Or maybe…husband by day…Crackle by night? Who knows.

Validation #2: I can’t get past Chapter 1…you expect me to get past Validation #1?

Less Than Mind Bloggeling, huh. But I promised nothing more, so I delivered what I set out to deliver.

The End – for tonight.

2002-08-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

As the night grew darker, the storm stormed more intensely. It was very, very scary. And stormy.

2002-08-26T06:45:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night.