Wednesday, November 3, 2010

How to know where your parenting skills rate...

So the Daughter comes home from school today and tells me how a boy in her class was playing with her hair today in school. She's got that sheepish grin on her face, that one where you know you're in trouble? Yeah, let me remind you, she's in first grade.

There's another girl in her class that she doesn't get along with, Miss S. Daughter says she was getting a drink of water and walked by Miss S. Miss S allegedly says to her, "Daughter, why are you always dressed in pink and black and all?" Daughter replies, "Because I'm fantastic."

That's my girl!

(Side Note: She does pick out her clothes, and she'll tell you, it's "all about the fashion." Such a DIVA)

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The most annoying hospital on the planet!

Many of you may already feel this way about Woonsocket's Landmark Medical Center, but let me paint this fine picture for you. First of all, we avoid this hospital at all costs. The Husband finally paid off a bill from four years ago last week with them. And should it be our choice, we'll never owe them another penny. And we must not be alone, because they've been in danger of going bankrupt and have begged the help of a Catholic-owned hospital.

So, last night, the Husband's cousin and his GF had their baby. At LMC. So, early this morning, I called the hospital, because I wasn't sure if they were there. I asked if she was there, and that we wanted to come visit this morning. I was told yes, and what room she was in.

Now, let me preface this by saying at most hospitals that I've had experience with, when you've had a baby (or at anytime), you get to choose when you want visitors or not. Visiting hours are during regular hospital hours, but if you say "I don't want visitors for two hours" they will honor that.

So, the first part of the morning was going to pick out flowers. Which is apparently not easy to do. We have a place here in Blackstone, Flamingo Flowers. It seems like a cute little shop, however, I've never been inside. Because every time I've gone there, they are not open. At random times. 3pm on a Wednesday, 9:30am on a Tuesday, 11am on a Saturday, you name it, I've been by there to see if they are open. No such luck. So I go to Stop & Shop, as they have a floral department. I found a cute little giraffe vase, and they had some cute displays already made up, but I wanted to see if I could swap one out for this vase. Immediately, when I ask the girl at the counter if I could put something in the vase, she goes off on me about how I need to place an order and come back later, that it takes 20 minutes alone to soak [something] for the arrangements. I told her I was sorry that I didn't schedule a friend to have a baby that morning, I'd do better next time. While she was talking, I left the counter and retrieved another arrangement. And took off the fugly bow on the front, put in a balloon and went to pay. I would have left, were they not the only floral department outside of the hospital.

Let me just say, what the hell is wrong with people in the service industry lately? Why is everyone so negative? She didn't even allow me to ask if she could just swap out the vase. Ugh!

We move on to the hospital. I go to the info desk, flowers and baby gift in hand, and ask again to confirm my friend's room assignment. The woman points me in the direction of the elevators. I get up to the Maternity floor and the doors are locked. So I go down another hallway. A nurse points me in the right direction, and I am to call on the phone.

I go back and call the nurse's office as I am instructed to do. And am told that visiting hours START AT 2 PM. Which would have been incredibly helpful, had I been told that when I called that morning. But wait, the best part? My children are NOT allowed in the entire maternity ward. WHAT??? Yes, children are NOT ALLOWED. This choice isn't even up to the mother and father. The father's sister and niece aren't even allowed in. What hospital does this?

Let me add this, LMC is the same hospital that, upon begging the Catholic hospital to come in, has said that they will not perform any kind of abortion, nor will they dispense any birth control. They're all about the children. WTF???

So I leave, after hastily spending $35 on boring flowers that are now likely to die before I find a babysitter so I can go visit a friend in the hospital to meet her newborn baby. Reason #22 why I do my best to stay out of Woonsocket.

Wait, what day is it?

I don't know how it happened, but it seems that summer has flown by. Here we are, it's September 1st. The Daughter starts her first day of first grade tomorrow. Her Hello Kitty bag is packed, her outfit is set out, and her shoes are tested out and comfortable.

We've been so incredibly busy, but I must say, this past week has been a tough one, and as much as I love my babies, I am certainly ready for school to start, too. I can't tell you how many times in the past week I've been tempted to tell the Daughter to go wait by the mailbox for the bus. (What? I'll pack enough peanut butter sandwiches...).

Seriously, we've been non-stop. Everything from a vacay at the Cape, swim lessons, campfires with new and old friends, barbeques, and so much more drama. (We'll go into that later).

Anywho, we're ready for my favorite season of EVER--New England fall. I swear, there is no fall like a fall in New England. Bring on the pumpkin muffins and pumpkin spice coffee and pumpkin log and Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale! Oh, wait, the Husband bought three cases of it last week (the day it came out) on one of his giftcards. Thank goodness for giftcards, because I'm pretty sure I'd have a fit over the bill. Only, it is my favorite beer, yet I'm going to need to get back into the swing of the gym to support it.

So here's to the end of summer. I'd leave you with photos, which I'm sure that being a photographer and all, you'd imagine I'd have tons, right? Umm...no. I have no excuse. Better luck next time?

Monday, July 5, 2010

A milestone!

I haven't talked much about it here, but back in February, I decided I was going to get healthy. I wouldn't say I was unhealthy, but I wanted to be more active. I wanted to sleep better at night and have more energy during the day. I wanted to lose a bit of weight. Not much, but some. I joined a gym for the first time and have since gone on an average of three times a week. Some weeks I fall off the wagon, some weeks I'm there every day. I did meet with a trainer, but seriously? $60 a month to see them twice? Whatever. I'm a pretty strong person, but I never know how to gauge my strength. A few years ago, I took some golf lessons with a friend, and the instructor said to me, "you really don't know how much strength you have, do you?" No, but I can tell you where I don't have strength (biceps) and where I have the most (quads, adductors, abductors). I used to be incredibly flexible, but I can't run to save my life. In fact, I hope I never have to.

So for the first six weeks, I did it on my own. I did some cardio and strength training, four times a week. While I felt slightly stronger, I never lost a single pound. I know, everyone says, "don't pay attention to the scale." Right. Let's face it, no matter what we do, most of us could still stand to lose a few. So I started counting calories. That worked, even though I'm a relatively healthy eater. Yes, I love cupcakes and real butter, but I've never been on that crazy train where people are all "what do you mean I can't eat McDonald's four times a week and not be thin?"

I got myself a subscription to Fitness magazine (thanks to MyCokeRewards, it was free) and started to get a bit more serious about my workouts. Last week, finally, I have officially lost ten pounds and 5% body fat. Now that is results! I feel good, my clothes fit better, and I am starting to notice the difference. I've added more pilates and ab work to my routine, as I need to. But now, I've decided I'm going after the one avoidance: Running.

In this issue of Fitness, there are instructions on getting yourself into 5K gear. So I'm going to follow it, and I've found two 5K races for charity that I want to run in the fall. One is the Gloria Gemma Breast Cancer 5K in Providence, and the second is the Girly Girl Parts 5K for ovarian cancer in Sandwich, MA. I've given myself plenty of time to prep, and even enough time incase I happen to fall off the wagon again. And women's cancers are issues I fully support, so I'd rather benefit charity than do a YMCA race.

Truth be told, what I'd really love to do is a Sprint Triathalon, as I am a strong swimmer and I think I could handle the biking portion well. But that requires more training than I can handle right now, so maybe next year. Until then, wish me luck!

A first: A FAIL in the kitchen.

So it's ridiculously hot here, we've only put air conditioning in the upstairs bedroom, so the kitchen is sweltering. Yet, I've felt the urge to bake something unconventional. While I was hovering around the interweb, I found a recipe that I thought would please the fam--fluffernutter cupcakes. I'm not a fan, it's the marshmallow icing. I really don't at all like marshmallows. The kidlets and Husband do, so this can't be that bad, right?

Well, I was first nervous about the recipe. Not knocking someone else's recipe writing skills, but 2 cups of brown sugar and only a teaspoon of baking powder? Oil, no butter? And so much cream of tartar? Now, first of all, it didn't tell me how many this recipe would yield, and I hate flying blind. I did seventeen cupcakes, and a 9 x 13 pan. So I've now used almost everything in my pantry.

As for how the cupcakes came out? They sucked. Forget rising, I think they receded. I know brown sugar can reduce, but this is terrible. It came out something like a lead-peanut butter brownie. And the texture was just awkward. I can't even describe it. Except for that I want to drink milk right out of the container, and I don't really like drinking milk at all.

And the frosting? I'm pretty sure I could do body work to the car with this stuff, it's consistency is something similar to Bondo. My stand mixer was even having a hard time with it. I can't even bring myself to think about how I am going to clean the bowl, I'll just let it soak overnight--like you do with the green bean casserole dish at Thanksgiving.

I'm really upset, because honestly, I don't often fail in the kitchen. Especially when I bake. I can't even think of the last time I did. And I really can't stand when it's a recipe that uses every stock item I have in the pantry (shh, don't tell the kidlets that I stole their peanut butter to make the recipe. What? I wasn't about to use my natural, organic peanut butter, would you?). On the bright side, I can actually see all the remaining items on my baking shelf now that there's significantly less marshmallows in there.

You know what this means, though, right? I'm going to have to come up with a fantastic recipe so I can continue to flex my baking muscles. And it's supposed to be just as hot tomorrow, too. Damn!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Too girly for my own good?

In a past life--before I was the Mama In Red, I was the college girl in adidas windpants--I used to be a bartender. Which is apparently a job you can never retire from. I highly enjoyed it. It was the perfect job for me at the time. But it made me way more picky about my drinks. I was never a martini gal, and if I was, it was dirty. Please don't bring any frou-frou concoction to me. Don't treat me like a little girl, I can lift a keg forchrisakes.

Fast forward to now. I'm still not a girly drinker. I don't consider Arbor Mist to actually be wine, my red wines aren't chilled, and please don't think I will ever order a cosmopolitan. I'm still set in my ways, I like a Bloody Mary that I can chew, I don't drink anything from the bottom shelf, and I still prefer Jack Daniels to most other liquors. However, I am a margarita girl. That is "my drink." I'm good at making it, and I can suck it down just the same. But then, tonight, I realized I had some PAMA Pomegranite liquor left over. And a bottle of vodka from the Husband's birthday party. So I decided to find from the rubble break out my martini glasses, which until now have only held strained margaritas. And how was it? Delicious. Next up on my list is a chocolate martini. But it may have to wait, I mean I am trying to be healthy and all. Just keep it our secret, kay?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

What the HELL is going on around here?

The past few weeks have been insanely busy. I keep thinking that it'll slow down, but really, that's just a crazy thought. And I'm okay with that. I'd rather be busy than not. I've got a ton of freelance work (yay!), lots of family & friends' get-togethers, and just events in general. It gets us out of the house and wears the kidlets out, so that's good, right?

A few weeks ago is when it started happening. I was using the microwave to melt some butter for something I was cooking. I took the butter out and shut the door. And then the microwave continued to try and work. At first, I heard the clicking, but dismissed it. Then I noticed the light was flickering inside the microwave. I opened, put butter in, turned it on, and when it shut off, it was fine. It started again after I took the butter out and shut the door again. I realized that the plate on the bottom was attempting to spin, too. I decided to pretend I saw nothing and walk away.

Then the tv started. We'll be watching tv, and it will switch off. It will stay off for about five minutes and switch back on. It's random. It won't happen while the tv is on in the background (like if I've got it on a music channel), but the minute you sit down to watch something, it will start. Thank goodness for Tivo! The Husband thinks it can be fixed. I just ignore it.

This past weekend, it was the dryer. At the time, the Husband and I were debating what to do about our washing machine. There's nothing mechanically wrong with it, but it's a front loader, which I thought I would love. Turns out? I hate it. I'm not sure why, but our clothes stink. Bad. At first, we thought it was the detergent I've been making for the past year. So I went out and bought Arm & Hammer and some Bounce. I traded out detergent, stopped using vinegar, took out the dryer balls, and replaced everything with the stuff I used to use. No change. Well, slight perfumey change, but that's to be expected, right? I got some washing machine cleaner. It seemed to help at first. I clean out the door boot. So we were debating on trading it in for a top-loading machine. And the dryer started acting funky. The heat settings would constantly scroll while it's on and then it would shut off. I searched online. I tried using it anyway, but it didn't dry anything. So I ordered the $180 control panel and pulled the plug out of the wall so I didn't have to hear it beep incessantly. We decided to table the decision on the washer. This morning? I go to put some towels in as a test. Works perfectly. ARRRRGGGGGHHH! Luckily, there's a return policy.

Then, yesterday, the Tivo box wouldn't come on. I said "Screw it" and went upstairs and watched Good Morning America in the bedroom. Apparently, while we were out in Boston ALL DAY, the Tivo decided to turn itself on. Most likely, it was right after we left and was on for eight hours.

So I don't know what the hell is going on around here. Now, I know what you're thinking, we've already discussed how appliances and I don't mix. And the Mac we discussed in that posting? Died a slow and painful death. One that apparently my father's electronic genius intervention could help. But this is just not fair. I asked the same question to the Husband, and his answer was something like, "Well, you live in the house, what do you expect?" He's probably right. I must have some sort of a force field around me that causes anything electronic to freak out.

And this is precisely why I have absolutely no interest in an electric car. Can you blame me?

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

My Oprah List.

So I was hangin' out over at The Stiletto Mom's place, where she's been reading this Oprah nonsense about how O doesn't walk or do stairs. Which I find ironic, seeing how I just now saw a talk show with Bob (her trainer) the other day was saying he tells his clients to hit the stairs of the hotel for exercise. I wonder how she takes the rest of his advice...

Anywho, everyone's been doing this Oprah list on what they don't do. Because we're all about the Mama here, let's get started on the list of things Mama doesn't "do," shall we?

Mama doesn't do wildlife.
Mama doesn't do peas.
Mama doesn't do crummy food.
Mama doesn't dust.
Mama doesn't do tents. Or hippies in tents.
Mama doesn't do Hyundai. Or Kia. Or Toyota, with their recent tales of FAIL. (even though there was a period when I was in love with the 4Runner and some of their trucks. I firmly believe the 22R engine they made is one of the best, but apparently they chose crappy steel to build the frame. And they rot. Nice?)
Mama doesn't do screaming children. Mine or other people's.
Mama doesn't do mornings. Even though the Husband seems to think that after 31 years, I should somehow switch to mornings. (Sorry dear. Not likely to happen.)
Mama doesn't do sugar-free. I'm somewhat embarrassed by the amount of sugar I require in coffee. And don't drink my sweet tea if you don't expect to break your teeth.
Mama doesn't [like to] do yardwork. But I do the gardens, I even scooped today.
Mama doesn't do pink. Magenta? Love.  Bright, bold colors? Can't get enough of them. But pastel pink? Do not like.
Mama doesn't really do icky things. Yes, I have picked up worms, but I don't like to. I was a tomboy growing up, after all. But now that I realize I can make someone else pick that stuff up for me, that's how I roll.

I'm sure there's a ton more, but I'll just go ahead and quit so the Husband can stop rolling his eyes at me.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Have I ever told you that my Mama is famous?

Growing up, we always rescued animals. My first dog, Klinger was stolen by my mom as a puppy. His owners were not tending to their dog and it's newborn pups, so my mother climbed the fence and took two, one for her and one for the neighbor.

Then there was the dog Sunday who came home with my parents from the race track one day (guess which day of the week?). She was a large German Shepherd that was digging in trash cans. There was another shepherd named Daisy, who was being taken care of for weeks by a pit bull owned by my parents' best friend. They had no idea the pit was doing this until they caught their dog eating the cat food in the middle of the night. She was with us for a long time, too.

While I don't really remember the stories behind all the animals, I do remember when years ago, my mom told my dad she wanted a Basset Hound. And he brought home a life-sized basset hound stuffed animal. A handful of years later, she rescued her first Basset from a bad situation. He was an oversized tri-color named Charles. And so it began.

Mom always did work with Basset Hound rescue. Problem was, many of them would come to our home and never leave. The most she's had is five at once. She doesn't foster, because she can't let them go. But she travels, she transports, she donates, and she creates a stir. One of the rescues she is most active in right now is Michigan Basset Rescue. This weekend, they are to hold their Annual Great American Basset Waddle. And my mother will be performing with The Basset Houndz, a special group with a special message.

But wait, it doesn't stop there. Her Houndz have personalities, like Elder Clara who likes to eat, rules the house, and has two columns on hound-related email blasts. She also has her own cook book and a host of cooking gear to go with it. Go visit, buy a copy, support local rescues. She has Brudder Elwood, Instigator of Evil Deeds. I think he tells his tales on the Daily Drool. He has a book too, I just can't seem to find where it's available. (I have an autographed copy straight from da publisha)

I've always tried to do my part to support my mom in her endeavors, I've transported a few dogs, donated my time or dollars, and I've designed some of the goodness for MBR's Waddle. And you should, too. And now you know what it's like to have a famous Mama.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Is that horns?

Yes, this is what I thought to myself as I stepped out onto the back porch today. And then heard the Son ask, "Mama, why does The Neighbor have a goat in his yard?" Our yards are separated by a small chain link fence (his) that has some sort of plant growing through it that everyone in New England refers to as "pickies." I look over the fence, and sure as hell, there is a goat staring back at me. He looks just as confused by his new surroundings as I do.

So The Neighbor's friend is sitting in Neighbor's backyard with this goat--I have no idea if it belongs to this guy and is just visiting or if Neighbor has actually taken ownership of said goat. But when Teddy noticed this thing next door, Friend said, "Neighbor, I told you that dog would scare your goat." This goat is now scared and jumping to try and run away, but he is tied to the fence and the trash cans keep getting caught on his rope. I put Theo in the house and the Son is still at the fence, saying "I never seen a goat here before."

The Neighbor comes over with a small cooler of beer and says to the son, "You're scaring him." WHAT? My three-year-old son is scaring YOUR goat? Do you own a mirror to begin with? And this friend that arrived with this goat...did you notice that he's a little freakier than...well, most people? Yeah. I'm pretty sure this goat is freaked out because he's tied to a fence with interference. I'd go take a picture, but the guys are sitting out there with the goat.

I'm sorry, who rides around with a goat in the truck? Who visits with a goat? This thing can't be here to stay. Although, now that I'm inside and can spy without them noticing, there is a goat house there now, too. And a big food container. And his name is Alf. I never thought I'd live next door to someone with a goat. And it's not like we live on land, people. We're in an old mill neighborhood. Houses are close together (which always makes me nervous when I have to whip out my "Mama Wins" voice on the son. But apparently the other neighbors are not so worried for the same reasons).

Wait a minute, why can't I have chickens?

Monday, May 3, 2010

Dinner with the fam: The River Falls Edition.

Last night, the Husband and I decided to use a gift certificate to River Falls and go out to eat. It was Family Scribble Sunday, so kids eat free. Score! If you're not familiar, it is on the Blackstone River in Woonsocket. Claims to have beautiful river views while dining. It is in a pretty cool building, so we were excited.

We got in and were seated right away. First thing I notice: you cannot enjoy "beautiful river views of the historic Blackstone" while dining. The windows are set way too high for the tables, and across the back of the restaurant, the only windows have the fire escape directly on the other side of the glass. Now, I'm no expert, but they totally redid this building. Could they not have planned this better? Picture glass windows across the back, maybe? Or relocate the fire escape to not spit you out on the river rock?

The Husband chose to go with his old-school favorite, a fried seafood platter. Back when we were first together and lived in Virginia Beach, he used to constantly brag about New England seafood and how a platter up here "is piled high with food for about three meals" and how the shrimp "were so fresh they snapped in your mouth." Now, I'm a seafood girl, so I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of seafood. I chose a baked stuffed shrimp platter for $17.99. The menu boasts "Maryland lump crab stuffed jumbo shrimp broiled with lemon and butter." I chose a carmel glazed sweet potato and veggie of the day, which I forgot to ask what the day would bring. Veggie was butternut squash. Had I known that, I would have ordered something else. They are too similar, I think. Anywho, mouth watering, right?

So after more than 30 minutes, our meal arrives. Which I thought was quite a long time for the meals we ordered. The kidlets got chicken fingers and fries, so I thought it was about 10 minutes too long for an empty restaurant. Now, there was a function going on upstairs, but people had been coming downstairs with to-go boxes, so I'm pretty sure the kitchen wasn't backed up from that.

Imagine my surprise when my meal consisted of four medium/large sized shrimp. Yes. Four. Not the usual six. Shrimp that are sized like they would come in a 31-40 count pound. For $17.99. Still, I figured, hey, this could still be really good, right? I don't know who these New England people think they are, but lump crab means no filler, hence the name "lump." (p.s., crabcakes have filler, unless they are lump crabcakes) This was minced crab among bread stuffing. There was nothing lump about it. And I am not sure that it was Maryland blue crab, because that is much sweeter than this tasted. I didn't eat the other 3 shrimp's stuffing. It was gross. And I cannot explain to you how much I L.O.V.E. crab meat. Not just crab legs, like most people are accustomed to. This girl used to sit at the table with her neighbor as a little girl and shuck fresh blue crabs, eat them on wheat crackers with cream cheese.

The Husband's meal was okay, not overflowing as he used to claim. But edible. The scallops are usually sea scallops (the larger variety), and these were bay scallops, which are much smaller. But the shrimp did not taste very fresh, I must say.

There were a few other small things that I noticed, of our four plates, which were square and pretty cool, two of them were cracked and very chipped on the corners. Why are you serving cracked/chipped plates? Big no-no. Also, the bread was cold. It was fresh crusty italian, but cold. I don't see a reason for cold bread. Every restaurant I've worked in had bread warmers.

So overall, I was not at all pleased with this place. At all. Apparently their nightlife is supposed to be fun, but I was not impressed when we went a few weeks ago. Especially at their drink prices. $6 for a glass of wine (which was about 4 oz) that is the cheap stuff? $9 for a martini? We aren't in New York city, we're in Woonsocket, people. There's no reason for this. I've had friends say their food is decent, but the service is atrocious. But now I'm having a hard time deciding if it's the servers or the actual kitchen--which many people tend to blame slow kitchen service on the actual waiters and waitresses. I still left the waitress 20%, because she actually did fine. But I don't at all recommend this place. Save your $$ and go elsewhere, we would not have gone if we didn't have a gift card.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Spring and Summer loves.

It's the time of the year when we all start shedding our sweaters, putting the coats away, and looking forward to spring. There's a few things on my list. Being that my status hasn't changed much, I'm keeping my list to a minimum. Here's what I've got my eye on so far:

Reef Ginger flip flops in Purple:
I have always owned Reefs. I love their Ginger. I mostly do black, but two years ago, I broke and got a red pair. Which I am wearing now. I love them. But after two years of heavy use (these are my ONLY flip flops, I don't have eight pairs like most people), I need a new pair. I want these in purple. Bonus: I even have a 20% off coupon at Bob's to buy them. But I haven't yet. I'm afraid if I do, it'll snow like everyone talks about New England springs.

Some new Aquamarine/Blue Topaz earrings:
I am not a frilly jewelry wearer. My mother loves jewelry. She changes it often. I've gone through stages where I try to push myself into wearing different jewelry all the time. Which usually ends up with me changing a necklace. But my earrings are something I keep in all the time, unless we're getting fancy and I remember that I have some fancy earrings. I want a pair of 4-6mm studs to wear in my second hole. But this has dual reasons. Usually, I always wear studs in that hole. And over the past few years, I have lost everything I own. So I'm out of replacements. Here's what I'm thinking:

Now, I am aware that the list price on these is $185. Which will never happen. I'm perfectly happy buying some off ebay, because before too long, I'll lose a back and likely lose one. I'm watching a few on ebay, but I'm waiting for the right time to purchase. They're all under $10. Score!

The Coach Cross-body Op Art bag:
Alright, I am well aware that the husband is in a corner breathing into a bag clutching the checkbook somewhere, and this is something I want but likely won't buy for myself. I LOVE the new C logo—please, I am a graphic designer and Futura is one of my all-time favorite fonts. I like the size and style of this bag, it's a quick, throw-on type of bag. And lately, I am more on-the-go than ever. Sometimes I feel all mixed up with my other Coach bag on my arm, it feels to dressy for who I've become. Plus, the one I have is too big, and I prefer smaller bags. We have a coach outlet near us, so I'll likely check this place out and watch over their stock until a whole new style comes out and I find one marked down to $30. Hey, a girl can dream. 

Summer Dresses:
I've decided this summer that I want to wear more day dresses. And as I flip through the Victoria's Secret catalog, there's quite a few day dresses in there that I'd love. Because I plan on taking the kids to the pool, beach, lake, and generally having a good time. And this will allow me to wear fun, knit dresses. And while I've been going to the gym and working on counting calories, I plan on looking good in them, too. =)

A Jill-e Bag for my Camera Equipment:
I love this bag. Like I said in my previous post, I need a roomier, more versatile bag. I do love my Crumpler 4 million, and it's great for when we go random places. But like I said, I want to not have to choose between carrying a flash and carrying a lens. Especially for events and shoots. They're pricey, so I'm trying to earn points toward it. Wanna help? Click here.

That's all I've got for right now. I've tried to be realistic about our current budgets and choose accordingly. So there's a few things I know that I won't get and I'll continue to dream about. Unless anyone is feeling charitable? I'll photograph your family and bake you some cakeballs.

What's on your list?

Friday, April 30, 2010

How can you not drool over these?

So I've been on the hunt for a camera bag that can hold more than just my camera, with lens attached and either a lens or flash. I have a red Crumpler Four Million Dollar Home, which I L.O.V.E. But often, on shoots and at events, I need something larger. I need to not have to choose between a lens and a flash. I need to carry a back-up flash. I need accessories. I need a place to put my keys and wallet. And also? I hate backpacks, and would like something more stylish. Because I do infact, do events. And often, at charities, you have to keep all your gear on you, there's no place to set it down. Now, I do also love the seven and eight million dollar homes, but I kinda think I want something a little different than what I already have. Something more versatile. Enter the Jill-e bag. Observe:


fashion, function, fun, your croppin companion jill-e designs camera bags

How fabulous are they? Now, I considered a Kelley Moore bag, which is also beautiful, however, they are a little small for what I want. They are too narrow and tall. I want something shorter with easier access. Don't get me wrong, if a KM bag shows up at my door, I will give it a nice home. But I really want a Jill-e bag. So what do I need from you? Click the link. Browse the site. Buy accessories upon clicking my link. They even have a small purse that has a padded place for a digital point-and-shoot. Which I've considered getting for the Daughter so she can have my Canon PowerShot.

Thanks! Tell your friends! Buy one for Mama for Mother's Day!

Monday, April 19, 2010

Coordination: I [does not] has it.

So we're thirty-five minutes deep into Zumba tonight, I'm in my usual spot, front row, slightly left with my girls (The real ones, Tay, Mama J, and the other Mama J; not the girls being contained on my chest). It's juicy, the fans aren't on and we've already sweated out breakfast and most of lunch (minus the cheesecake balls I keep hiding from the kidlets). We're doing a cross step move and the instructor is all "Bigger! Yeah, you got it!" to me. Because I'm in front, and you know how the class nerd is, right? Only, we switch to this sliding move and it happens so fast, I don't even see it coming. And I'm pretty sure I did the whole scramble thing on the way down, but it was just too slippery on the very obviously fake wood floor. And it takes me a second to recover. But I jump up and get right back in step. The instructor, who was standing next to me, turns to face me (while moving) and he's all "Are you okay?" Of course, in my head, I'm all "Please, I'm the girl that tripped and fell down the stairs at my junior prom. This ish happens to me all the time." But I just utter a "yeah" and keep moving.

After all, I was the girl who also fell down a flight of stairs while seven months pregnant at my best friend's mom's house the night before her wedding. 'Cause when I do it, I do it big.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Happy 12th Birthday, Teddy!

Twelve years ago today, you were born (That would be 1998 for those of you that are math-challenged like me). You had one sister, who was named Eleanor. Apparently, your mother died in birth, and you and your sister were left on the doorstep to the Norfolk SPCA in a box, your mother in a bag next to you.

The first person to arrive for work was a woman named Dianne (if my memory serves me correctly). She worked for the SPCA for more than 20 years. Immediately, she fed the two of you. Later that evening, she took you and your sister home to raise you.

Fast forward to the first week in June. I'd been living in my first house with my first roommate just off campus since March. Coming from the house I grew up in, where we rescued animals, I missed having a dog. I'd left five at my parents' house. My boyfriend at the time was on his way to take me to lunch. Instead, we ended up at the Norfolk SPCA.

When I first saw you, you were hiding in the corner. Your sister and you were in one cage, she was all over the place. It was instantly obvious why Dianne named you Teddy, you looked just like a little teddy bear—with oversized legs and feet. I was smitten. Dianne told me the story of how you came to her, you were claimed to be a "Lab/Shepherd mix". You were six weeks old that day, and she'd decided you were ready to find a forever home. I filled out the information and brought you home to meet my roommate and her dog, Jasmine Marie (My roommate didn't have a middle name, so she gave her dog one).

The fun part began when I took you to my parents' veterinarian and he was scared to tell me (but told my mom instead) that you were Great Dane, not Shepherd. Which explained your ginormous feet. And appetite.

You tried my patients, chewing everything you could. You peed all over the carpet. And you had an affinity for expensive underwear, but normally only when we had people over. You loved rawhide bones that were bigger than you, and normally you ate them within 3 days. You loved to ride in the car. And you loved your soccer ball. You didn't care for the tide at the beach, but the first time you saw a pool, you ran and jumped right in.

Then we stayed overnight for our first Christmas at my parents' house, and my father came to get you out of my room to go outside with the gaggle of hounds. Later that morning, he said to me, "You really have a good, well-behaved dog." And then you proceeded to win over my mother by sitting at her side while she cooked, not begging, not being a nuisance. I found out later she had a pocket full of treats and was slipping them to you all day.

Now, twelve years later, you've chewed up one pair of brand new New Balance shoes (ever wonder what the real use of the "tongue" is in your shoes? Try wearing them without one), two couches, the electrical cord to a fan (that was plugged in), and one Cox Cable remote control—where the service rep informed me I "should not let my dog chew on the remote..." I told her it wasn't like I ran out of Snausages. You have caught one bird (who knew you could move so fast), one opossum (thanks for that), and somehow missed a chipmunk being in the same room as you for hours. You detest premium dog food and have always preferred the cheap stuff. You won't drink from a clean water bowl, you prefer snarfle in it. You don't like to be outside on your own, only if I'm out there. Unless you're laying on the deck in the sun. You get anxious in the car, but if someone says "wanna go for a ride?" you will push your way into the first vehicle with an open door. You have a bark that scares the beejebus out of most people but have only bitten one person. And as my mother says, you don't seem to age much, you've been in a state of shock since Avery was born.



Happy 12th birthday, Teddy Bear. Or "Theo" as Grammy refers to you. I've enjoyed you being part of my life. But you're not getting a cake because you took it upon yourself to celebrate this morning by eating a library book. And washed it down with some carpet, because apparently that's how you roll. Or was it the remainder of garlic mashed potatoes I fed you last night?

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Town of Blackstone: Major FAIL.

We have lived in this small town (of 8000) for a little over three years now. We've lived in the same house since we moved up here, a half-duplex. We've had no other names, places, or anything. Just us. Here. At the same address.

For some reason, the Town of Blackstone cannot figure out their billing. Here, we get billed for water every six months--which sucks, by the way. When we first moved in, it took almost a year to get the water bill straightened out. Because we were the first owners of the house, they were billing us for the builder's portions of the water bill. We paid late fees. Many late fees. But I didn't have the time to fight with them. So we paid them.

Last week, we got a demand for payment in the mail for Excise tax on the Husband's truck. Which means there apparently was a bill before that which we did not receive. This bill stated that the tax be paid before March 17 or it would go to the collector. And we got it last week. So unless I own a time machine, we are late.

Now, this isn't the first time we've had an issue with Excise Tax bill. Previously, we've gotten blank bills, where they sent us a sheet of paper with our address on it, and we rarely get a bill on time. We always get the demand bills. So I go to Town hall to pay our late bill and bitch.

For those of you that don't know, here in Taxachusetts, apparently legislation was signed in that states if you do not receive a bill, you are still liable for all taxes, interest, and late fees. No one else shall be held responsible. The public has NO rights. This allows towns to send out bills late and purposely collect late fees without repercussion. So now, even though I believe someone did not send out our mail, I now have to pay $93.93 for a $65 Excise bill. But I actually have a longer period to pay the elevated fee than I did for any other portion of this Godforsaken process. How nice of them.

My problem? These people effing suck. Basically, I was told I am supposed to go looking for my own bill should I not get one. So you mean to tell me that these people who are paid a publicly listed salary--which essentially I am paying for--get more days off than most people and work better hours than bankers are not doing their job. Someone's job there is to send out bills to the households in Blackstone. And they are not sending them out. And please spare me the details of our mail getting lost. The postmaster knows who I am and can recall my address when I walk in the door from three years ago when we had no mailbox and I had to check my mail there every day. Mail doesn't "get lost" in this town. Quit blaming the post office. You people are overpaid to do a lousy job and simply get to collect for it. Hell, I can click print, and I know how to send out bulk mail. I'll gladly work for your salary.

The best part? The Tax Collector told me that apparently I am the only person with a problem with the town's billing. Really? Just me? Should I round up everyone that has had a problem and show up at the Town meeting so we can break up the bitching over the school budget? Because everyone I have spoken to seems to think that the Town of Blackstone can't seem to get their head out of their ass. Think I was irate after that conversation?

See, I knew we should have bought that house in Rhode Island. At least their tax issues have ties to the mafia, not because some nitwits are running this joint.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Dear Fellow Gym Member,

I don't feel that I should really have to write a post on gym etiquette. It's been done too many times. However, today? You have really pissed me off. First of all, they make lockers that are kept in rooms called locker rooms. Go put your bag there instead of rifling through it every two minutes. And if I trip on the handle again because you insist on leaving it somewhere inappropriate, I am going to hurl it.

Second, stop staring at the women working out. Yes, we lift weights, too. Apparently more than you. But this ogre-like behavior? Will not land you any dates. And I'm pretty sure the girl you've walked past five time to stare at her ass yet again doesn't bat for your team. Leave her alone and wipe the drool off your mouth.

Lastly, just because you intend on using a piece of equipment does not mean you own it. Yes, I like the inverted leg press. Girls can use those machines, too. So when you stack 75lbs of weight discs on each side and then proceed to talk on your cell phone while pacing worse than my Husband, you need to get your show on the road. Just so you know, I used three other pieces of equipment, did my proper 3 sets of 16 reps, you finally sat down to attempt to lift all this weight you have now stacked up. Oh, wait, did you forget the main plate weighs 115 lbs? Yeah. That's what that big sticker says on it. And if you even try to make me think you've lifted anywhere near the 265 lbs you are now struggling to press, you must be out of your tree, because no one works out in "windpants" anymore and you? Just look like an asshat. Which is further proven when after two more phone calls, you left all that weight on your machine and didn't rerack it. You're not that important, so hang up the damn phone. Also? No one wants to sit in your butt sweat, so like the sign says, wipe down the machine when you're done.

I may be a novice to the gym, but just so we're clear, struggling through three "reps" of insane weight which is clearly too heavy for you and circling the gym four times to check out the ladies does not constitute a good workout. How you're sweating like a pig, I'm not sure. And next time you try to comment to me how you're feelin' your workout, try not to spit on me. Because apparently, I can lift more weight than you.*

K? Thanks,
—the mama (who was not in fact in red today, but purple instead)


*Umm, no, I can't do the 275 lbs with the inverted leg press. But I didn't drop the weight discs, either. And I did three full sets. Just so you know. =) 

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Do you Zumba?

Have you heard of Zumba? Many of my friends across the blogosphere and facebook have tried it now. It's a cardio workout that infuses Latin hip hop, salsa, cha cha, and meringue with American hip hop, belly dancing, and general shakin' your booty. It's not just for women, there's a few guys that dare take classes. At my gym, which is a new gym, Monday night Zumba class usually sells out. By "sell out" I mean more than 60 people join in. It's crazy. I like the Tuesday morning class, the instructor is fantastic and the class isn't so full. Each instructor has their own style, and that's good. Although, we have one instructor who is TERRIBLE. I felt like I was doing nothing but dancing in circles, clapping my hands, and trying to move among all the size -3 teenagers who giggle every time you shake your butt.

Anywho, if you have the opportunity to take a class or go with a friend, I HIGHLY recommend it. It's loads of fun, and you actually burn about 600-800 calories per class, depending on how impactful your instructor is. And guys? Get in there. Where else will you find tons of ladies shakin' their groove thang in spandex? Just be nice and don't drool.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Screw the Rabbit.

I've never been crazy for holidays. Now, my old roommate--who was the youngest of three--said she remembered the exact moment that she found out Santa wasn't real, the Easter bunny didn't bring chocolate, and mom plays the tooth fairy, often in a forgotten rush. And she was devastated. I couldn't tell you when I learned or how it affected me. Now that I have kids, I'm on the fence about all these things.

In school, the Daughter is learning about all holidays. Which made it a little hard to explain that no one other than college students and the true Irish celebrate St. Patrick's day. And that Valentine's day around here is simply another day to remind each other how much we love each other, and it doesn't require chocolate or roses or even cards. And don't even get me started on Halloween, I detest that "holiday."

So as far as Santa goes, the Husband and I made a deal. Our kids know that Mommy & Daddy buy their presents. Credit is also given for Grammy & PopPop and Meme, aunts and uncles, and whomever else provides for our family. "Santa" brings one unwrapped present each. Why do we do this? Because we feel like our kids need to know that we work hard for the things we provide, as does everyone else. Presents don't just come from some guy who sleeps all year, works one night, and takes all the credit. (Yet the Husband wonders why I equate him to the mafia...) It instills in our kids that hard work reaps rewards, and we should be grateful for everything we get.They understand the concept, most of the time.

Which brings us to Easter. Now, we aren't all about religion. Briefly, the Husband is Catholic and I am Methodist; yet neither of us practice our religion, by choice. Which means we don't participate in Lent, nor do we really celebrate Easter. Now, I'm not opposed to going to sunrise service. But to be honest, I'd rather not cloak the whole thing in a lie about how some rabbit appears in the night to hide hard boiled eggs and bring cheap chocolate and peeps. (However, should any rabbits or other varmints willing to bring me Godiva or Lindt chocolates, I fully invite them to be left at my doorstep. And no fruit fillings, please.).

I feel like this mainly because the Daughter is at the age where shortly, she will learn that these "stories" are lies. So I'd rather not deal with the whole cover-up. We teach that this is a no-lies household and that you can tell mom and dad anything. And who's to say my children won't be as heartbroken as my old roommate, you know?

Monday, March 15, 2010

Spirit fingers, anyone?

I was never into cheerleading. I was more the type that played the sports and didn't understand the point of cheerleaders. Of course, my senior year, I was one of the captains of the dance team, and it wasn't until then that I actually understood the athleticism of the sport, but I was never the cheerleading type.

Fast forward to a year and a half ago. The Daughter was ready for sports. We had already tried dance, but she has too much energy for tap or ballet. We tried soccer. I even got her lotto cleats with pink laces. But she didn't like other kids taking the ball away. And then she became friends with the neighbor. Who is a cheerleader. And the Daughter fell in love. She'd go to practices with her (the neighbor is about three years older). She went to games. And she was smitten with cheerleading. So I began the quest to find her a team.

Little did I know that up here, there is no cheerleading for basketball. It's football only. And football season was over. I found a gym, Superior Cheer All Stars. And we went to our first practice. She did good, even if the Son was a huge pain and let everyone in the vicinity know that he did NOT want to be there.

Should it surprise anyone that at the end of her first practice, the coach/gym owner (and ridiculous amount of times-national champion coach) said to me, "She's a natural cheerleader. Your daughter is going to be very good." Of course. Of course, my daughter would be a natural cheerleader. My friends back home with all boys think the irony is hysterical. Me, the epitome of a tomboy, ended up with a girly-girl who is now a cheerleader. And not just a cheerleader, an All-Star cheerleader, meaning cheerleading is the sport itself.


I've now learned, as we are into our second season of competition that there are rules. Every cheerleader must wear a bow. There is an unhealthy amount of hairspray to be inhaled. Glitter gets everywhere. Get used to callouses on your hands, because it is not proper to enter a competition without curls, the tight spiral type. And then, there's the big role: Cheer Mom.


I held out the entire first season. I watched the other moms at competitions whip out their arsenal with no less than three cans of hairspray, personalized curlers, and don stylist's aprons full of combs and barrettes. I did buy the "Proud Parent" shirt, but didn't get a chance to wear it. I've worn it twice this season. However, if you think I'll ever be the flashing-hat-wearing, glitter-stars-on-the-face, mom dancing to the cheer type, you'd be wrong. Should I ever become this mom, who orders her minivan with the cheer edition package with in-seat curling irons, fold-down glitter makeup trays and a personalized megaphone, please take me out back and make me play football in the mud. But I do shake my noise maker, I photograph the team, and I cry when my daughter is on the mat. I participate because teams with the most crowd spirit win more points. And points = trophies. And when you're 6, the big trophy is what it's all about.

First place! Yes, I cried. I may not like cheerleading, but I have a little cheerleader. And how do you not support that? Especially when her team wears dark red and black. At the least, they're stylish.

P.S. I did order the personalized cheerleader sticker. For the Husband's truck. He just doesn't know it yet. =)

Friday, March 5, 2010

Little known facts about the Mama

The Daughter is a very intuitive person. She's the type that notices EVERYTHING. Move the coffee table 2" to the left? She'll move it back. Buy a new shirt? She'll ask how long you've had it and why she hasn't seen it before. Try going a different way to the grocery store? She'll drive you crazy in the back seat asking why we're going this way, and are we going to a new store. So it's no surprise that there's a few things that I do out of the ordinary that just never occurred to me as "different." Lately, since she's been learning to read and write, it's these things she notices as of late. Here's a few:

When writing on lined paper, I write in the middle of the lines. No matter whether it's college ruled or wide ruled. This started sometime in high school, and I don't know why I do it. And if I notice myself writing on the baseline, I move it to the middle of the lines. Strange for a graphic designer, no? She questioned it. And I had no good answer for her.

I usually write in all uppercase letters. Though, in most of my design, I prefer the all-lowercase route. But I often use all-uppercase (as in my blog titles, I recently changed that.) I used to tell the Husband back when I was pregnant that I would teach the Daughter that her name was spelled in all lowercase letters because it looked better that way. He told me to bottle up the crazy and not piss off her teachers.

I love my handwriting and am constantly working on it. Really, if you've seen my handwriting, this should be no surprise to you. In college, everyone wanted to borrow my notes because they are neat. I can't stand messy notes (or anything else, but one battle at a time). But sometimes I change the way I write my G, E, or S. Currently, I'm trying to learn how to write a 9 like it is here. No, I'm not in second grade.

I only like writing in blue pen. I prefer an extra fine rollerball or gel. My favorite pen is a Uniball Vision. But normally, you have to buy the entire color package to get the blue. I'll use red or black, but only after my blue is used up. And yes, I rarely lose pens. Ever. I run them out. And the Daughter knows she's not supposed to use them. Thankfully, she prefers pencils anyways.

I hate cursive. I know it's crazy for a designer to detest a type of face, but I am not a fan of cursive. I used to love it, but I like my uppercase handwriting better. However, often I do write in a cursive-ish handwriting when doing notes. But I hate it. I'll often rewrite a note if I've caught myself writing in this cursive.

Despite loving my all-uppercase handwriting, I always sign my name in all lowercase. My father noticed this back in high school and questioned it. He felt that my name should be the most important on the page, so it should at least have an uppercase first letter. At the time, it was unique, and you know how teenagers are always looking to be unique. I wrote my notes neatly and signed my name in all lowercase letters.

Clearly, I cannot stand messy handwriting. My old roommate had the messiest handwriting EVER. It drove me crazy. But you can't change other people, and it never bothered her. I don't usually let the Husband sign cards or address Christmas cards because his handwriting isn't up to par. And he knows this and lets me be. It's part of our happy marriage agreement. 

So, what does your handwriting say about you?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Dear Annoying Neighbor...

We live in a quiet neighborhood. Now, I don't expect to be able to hear any pins drop, but this is getting old. You have been incessantly working on your "new" vehicle for three days now. I can STILL hear the rod knock from your engine all the way over here, across the street and through the trees, while I sit in my house at my desk. Judging by the looks of it (and the sound), your brand-spankin' new 1983 Ford Econoline van likely died a miserable death sometime in the mid-to-late 90s. Probably sometime around when the exhaust fell off, but I'm just guessing, because it does look as though someone has bubble-gummed it back together at some point in the past eighteen years.

How about we call a spade a spade, and let's stop "collecting" these hunks of junk only to incessantly work on them and then park them in your front yard for sale; only to tell every prospective buyer that you can't seem to get rid of that "tic." However, should you decide to keep at your hobby, why don't you equip yourself with possibly more than a 2 lb sledge hammer, a 3/8" ratchet, and one jackstand, and perhaps you'll get somewhere? I have larger, more efficient tools than that in my pink toolbox.

And if you continue to do nothing but rev your motor to pretend you're really working on this garbage and it continues to backfire any more soot all the way through the trees on to my Cadillac, I will sneak over there in the middle of the morning and put mothballs in your gas tank so perhaps you can walk around it and scratch your head some more. Got it?

Sincerely,
The Mama

p.s. Would wearing pants that fit you be an option? Cause it's got to be cold out there with your ass hanging out. I'm pretty sure my plumber would blush seeing all that.

(Ever wonder why they say eFfing Owners Really Dumb? Seems clear to me.)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

How I know I'm turning into my mother.

We all get to that point in our life, where you cross over. You know what I mean, you go from "I'll never do/say/be that like my mother did" to "OHMYGOD, did I just do/say that?" It's scary. But fear not, we are all now adults, and we've managed to make it this far based on how our parents raised us.

However, lately, I've been noticing more momisms coming out. Observe:
  1. My pantry and freezer are full, but I have "no food in the house". You remember that one, right? I couldn't tell you what I have in there (10 cans of various tomatoes, 6 boxes of cereal, 9 boxes of pasta, 11 jars/cans of pasta sauce, 4 freezer bags full of homemade chicken stock, 2 whole chickens, 13 pork chops.... this could go on) I have some that make me more cranky than others, I'll explain.
  2. I freak out when I have 2 pounds or less of butter in my freezer. Okay, my mom never did this one–I actually found out this year that you could freeze butter, and all my prayers were answered, angels sang, babies danced, it was an amazing day. Still, I feel like I can't dive into those 2lbs of butter. I'm not sure why I'll need them, I just do. Hey, you never know when you're going to have to whip up some homemade buttercream. (Trust me, do it once, you'll understand.) 
  3. I stress over running out of laundry detergent. Now, I've made my own detergent for almost the past year, so running out really doesn't happen. And I don't know why I freak out about it, but I do. Maybe it's because everyone in my family are messy eaters. Crazy? You tell me. 
  4. Chocolate. Whenever I'm in the baking aisle, I always fret over whether I have semi-sweet chocolate chips at home. Not that I use them that often, but hey... you never know. As for how this relates to my mother, you can always tell when she has spent too much time in the line waiting for checkout. Her candy stash grows exponentially.
  5. I have less patience for other people's kids. I know, most moms are not able to actually come to terms with saying this. But I don't. And honestly, it's not the kids of people I know. It's the kids that are running wild in WalMart, and their parents aren't even trying to make them stop running. We have friends that have 4 (!) girls, and they take them out in public together from time to time, and they are well-behaved. Yes, sometimes one of them is having a bad day or has a melt-down, but that's just the way it is, and you're allowed melt-down passes. But these kids who are chasing each other and knocking into everyone in an already crowded store? I want to run them over with a shopping cart. No one actually wants to go shopping in WalMart, so add this kind of crap, and I just want to scream.
  6. If I am buying something with a coupon or for a reduced price, I expect that coupon/price. Otherwise, I don't want it. I'm an avid coupon clipper. I don't use expired coupons, and I adhere to coupon rules. I plan my food shopping based on sales. When I've visited your godforsaken horrific store because you have Lunchables for $.89 and chicken at $.89/lb, I expect to pay those prices. It's simple, right? So when I purchase 15 Lunchables, but am still putting my groceries on the belt and don't see until you're onto other items that my item is ringing $.10 more, don't eff with me because I want them at the advertised price. It's not my problem that they aren't ringing in right. Or that it takes you forever to change them because you have to do it manually. Don't argue with me, and don't refuse to bag my groceries because it's not my fault. And your smug manager who looks like he's a day over 17 can shove it, because if he gives me attitude again, I'll find someone higher than him to bitch to. Market Basket, anyone?
  7. Speaking of MB, I cannot stand it when families shop together and bring all 22 children and can't decide on what brand of sliced pre-packaged meat to buy. It's all the same crap from Oscar Meyer anyways, it just looks different. Couldn't one of these 7 adults you've brought with you stay home with all the kidlets? Seriously, is there a need for all of you to pack in your Toyota Camry with covers on the headrests and go grocery shopping? (And would it kill you to take a shower first? Or sometime this week?)
  8. If I pay for a service, I expect that service to be provided. If you offer me a 5-year warranty on a large ticket item, and I require service or replacement, I expect to receive it. I once paid for the extended wear warranty on the first couch set the Husband and I purchased together. It was a custom couch, chair and ottoman with our selected fabrics. Within two years, the legs on the couch broke. The padding on the arm fell through the frame. The fabric was worn well before its time. I can't even tell you how frustrating it was to deal with the warranty company. They sent someone out to "look" at the damage first. And he was like, "Wow. You've had this for two years and you don't have kids?" I've seen couches in nightclubs wear better than that piece of garbage. ONE YEAR later, we replaced the couch, because I couldn't battle with the company any longer. I was offered 50% off another custom couch in the store, but we chose not to go that route, for obvious reasons.
  9. I will not stand for people talking down to me because I'm a woman. My mom was a very independent woman. She was a woman working in a man's field, and she spoke up when she needed to. She gave 110%, and in return, she expected her employees to follow through on their promises. You promised that car to be painted by tonight? Better be done. She was a very fair boss, but she didn't take the bullshit. She raised me the same way. I don't talk to people in a way that I wouldn't want to be talked to. (See #6) But don't think that you can speak above me based on the situation we are in. If we're looking at a car, don't assume I'm only interested in how it looks. Don't try to play the white knight when I'm purchasing brake fluid in your auto parts store. I know what I'm doing. And when I've read my manual and it tells me what specific kinds to use or not use, don't tell me you think I'm wrong before you've even asked what make/model I'm buying for. And don't assume that I don't know how to drive because I'm a girl. I'll drive a manual transmission vehicle in 4-inch heels and whoop your ass in front of your boys while I apply lipstick. (Not that I wear lipstick, but I keep it for occasions like this). Just keep me away from granite curbs. =)
  10. I say the damndest things. Like "did you hear me tell you no?" or "Do you have a hearing problem or a listening problem?" or "Are you out of your mind?" or how about, "what did your father tell you when you asked him?" or the big one, "Boy, don't make me come over there, I'll wash your mouth out!" (well, my mom didn't say "Boy," because, well, she didn't have one.)
What momisms do you say or remember? 

Monday, February 15, 2010

How to donate to the food pantry.

In an economic downturn like the one we're in, it's important to remember that more people than ever are forced to turn to their local food pantry to keep them nourished. Most of these people don't want to be shopping there either, but we are in dire straights right now; don't wait for the mailman to offer to pick up groceries. While I'm saddened by the disaster in Haiti and all the other places we're saving right now, I believe that charity starts at home, so that's where my money goes. I give the pantry whatever I can as often as I can, and not just around holidays. How about right now, when people are paying the highest heating bills? Don't forget summertime, when parents are struggling because kids are out of school and are no longer able to be fed by the reduced lunch program.

Not too long ago, our town had a few food drives sponsored by the Boy Scouts and the Postal Workers. I noticed my neighbors all had some groceries to give—which is good—but to my surprise, they were all loaded with cans of tuna. While I applaud the effort, it's important to remember that some of these people buying at the food pantry are your neighbors, colleagues, church members, and parents of your kids' sports teams. Many of them are spending so much money on saving their houses, that they just don't have the means to supply food, too.

So put yourself in their shoes. You've finally made the decision to suck it up and visit the food pantry. You get there, and there's nothing but cans of tuna fish. These people are struggling, but they want to eat good, too. I'm all for starting in your own pantry, just remember to reach beyond the tuna. How about some rice, or pasta, or instant potatoes? Those items fill you up. Canned tomatoes can be turned into pasta sauce that can feed a family heartily. Peanut butter is full of vitamins and nutrients and can fill the tummy. Think of the items you like to cook, and imagine your next door neighbor is the one in need. Don't forget to look at items like vegetable oil, cake batters and icings, spices, parmesan cheese, things like this that the grocery store will even put on sale for $1.00 each. And who doesn't like to make brownies every now and then? Wouldn't this put a smile on your face?

While most flyers for food drives will ask for non-perishable items, call your food pantry and find out what you can do about perishables. Because let's face it, it's the fresh foods that are the most expensive. Our food pantry is open one night a week for a few hours. Perhaps you can buy a few gallons of milk and bring it right at the opening, this way families can have milk, bread, and even some fresh veggies. And if you happen to work for a grocery store, bagel shop, or some place that may have to throw out food at the end of the day (not eaten, obviously), see what you can do about helping out. Most people that I know don't mind day-old bagels, I'm pretty sure the needy wouldn't mind either. If you've got a garden, call the pantry and find out if you can donate a portion of the 900 zucchini and squash whose plants took over everything else. And if you've got nothing, go grocery shopping and hit up the sales—just keep your receipt for the tax write-off.

Because I must say it, be sure you're not giving canned foods that have expired (it does happen), and generally things you'd want to eat. There's a very slim market of people that enjoy canned beets, and these people have already been through enough. I'd be appalled if I had to visit the food pantry, and all I could come away with were lima beans, tuna, and other people's discards. Wouldn't you?

Lastly, if you're not into people, but want to save the animals, contact your local animal shelter or SPCA and see what they need. I once read a sign that the SPCA needed cat litter (the non-scoopable clay kind), and I went to WalMart and bought 200 lbs of litter. I spent very little money, because that is the cheap kind that's around $7 a bag. The lady at the front desk cried when I told her I needed to know where to back up the truck. Forgo the bird seed, but they always need used towels, newspapers, and food. I knew a lady that worked at the SPCA and I'd bought a 40lb bag of food that my dog wouldn't eat. Because I knew her, she took an open bag, but they don't normally. Always, call and ask. These are mostly volunteers, and they're overcrowded because too many people are struggling to feed their families, they can't also provide for their animals.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Book Review: Eat Pray Love

So, based on everyone's rave reviews on this book, I've decided to check it out from my local library and give it a shot. Since I have more time, I figure I should read more. Sounds easy, right?

Quickly, this book is a memoir where the author chronicles a year in her life. Following a nasty divorce and the breakup of her rebound, Liz sets off to spend a year overseas. Her first four months is in Italy, then to India and finally to Indonesia. You'll have to read it as for why she chose those places, I think that's necessary.

Thing is, I really didn't care for the book itself. I liked the premise behind it, a woman taking control of her life and embarking on new things to try and ultimately find herself. That part, I agree with. I think that anyone that may have this sort of opportunity would be silly not to take it. Because I think you cannot properly love someone else until you love yourself. I realize that there's times where we don't love ourselves all the time, but you have to accept who you are as a person before you can really expect anyone else to. So the basis of the book, I thought was great. I just found the rest rather boring.

Not many people I know would be able to actually leave their life for a year and take off. It just so happened that her publisher pre-paid her for the rights to the book she'd write about it. Which paid off, I guess. Truth be told, I'm still reading it, as she's in Indonesia right now and I'm just bored to tears. I'll try to get through it and perhaps my view will change. Honestly, had my library actually had a copy of Jen Lancaster's latest book Pretty in Plaid, I would have come home with that. Because I feel like a memoir needs to be funny—like Jen's—or incredibly moving, like Montell Williams'.

The worst part for me? Going to Liz's horrific website and seeing such a terrible cut-out picture of her. Who allowed her designer to create this atrocity? And the use of Comic Sans? Someone shake me, I must be having a nightmare.

At least we weren't in public.

Son just came out of the bathroom and said,
"Mom, you're going to have to put the candle on because I'm a big boy now."
Sigh. 

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Necessities in Mama's Kitchen

While I know there's a few absolute staples in the kitchen, I'll start basic. Knives. I believe that above even an amazing set of pans, you should start with a good set of knives. By "set," I mean that you really only need 2-3 knives, not that block full of knives sold in every place imaginable. Think I'm crazy? Hang on, this will be a good ride.

My main knife is a 6" Calphalon forged Stainless Chef's knife (purchased from the outlet with a 10% off sticker and on sale, I paid $11.99 for it. And I swear I didn't have to rob anyone or whip out my ghat). It's big enough for most anything, yet small enough that I'm not worried it's getting away from me. I also have a 5" Pampered Chef Utility knife, which is like a small version of my main knife. I bought this one first, but when the Husband started hanging out in the kitchen more, we needed a second knife. I must impart the importance of a forged, weighted, stainless steel knife. Those knives that come in the block, even the $150 set are crap. You'll know just how crappy once you use a real knife. And half of those knives are just filler. Sure, it's nice to have a nice just for boning, but most people don't even know the proper way to use it or how to even bone poultry or fish. And seriously, those are so flimsy that I've felt like the bone is going to win every time I used one. I feel much more confident with a real knife.

I also have a forged stainless paring knife, which I pull out to do things like peek kiwi, but it doesn't come out that often. (It's too damn small and I lose it, really). I recently bought a new bread knife, and I'll get into that one later. And I think that's honestly all you really need.

With these knives, you must care for them. I bought a fine sharpener with mine, so I sharpen it about every 3 times I use it. You probably should sharpen it each time, but seriously, I forget to put on socks some days. And despite what some Calphalon "Knife Gurus" may tell you, have it professionally sharpened about once a year. Yes, the guy at the Calphalon store told me I would "spend hundreds of dollars in sharpening, you should just replace them instead." Well, I wasn't sure what it would cost me to have them sharpened, so I embarked.

Now, I am lucky to live up here in Hockey Country, and not too far from me is Mount Saint Charles Academy. They turn out professional hockey players like Virginia Tech turns out criminals. So to my luck, LeMays Sharpening is a Pop-And-Son operation out of Pop's house. Everyone in the area recommends LeMays, so I entered their address into the navigation and set on my way.

I found the house, tucked away on a quiet street a snowball's throw away from Mount and went in the side door. Where Son was working and sharpened my knife as I waited. I thanked him and paid... wait for it... $3! Yes, THREE DOLLARS! I can't imagine going broke on knife sharpening at $3 a pop. And let me just tell you how S.H.A.R.P. this knife now is. Wow. I thought that $12 was the best I ever spent on a knife, but this $3 is a close second (only since I'd need to purchase it before I sharpen it, right?). If you're local and looking, they sharpen ice skates for $5, but they'll sharpen anything that can be sharpened. HIGHLY recommended.

So, run out and get you a real knife for everyday use in the kitchen. Seriously, it'll make a difference in the way you cook. I think I'm taking mine with me next time I travel to my mom's. Hopefully airport security won't oblige.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Here's the thing.

I talk to myself. I always have. Not in the third person, that would be too weird. I blame it on the fact that I'm an only child, so I talked to myself at a young age to keep me entertained. Only I never grew out of it. Then when I had kids, I used them to "hide" my talking. People didn't raise an eyebrow if I was mumbling to an infant in Target while searching for the right shampoo. But now, the kidlets are getting older, and they don't understand it, so I don't get away with it as much. Though it would be really nice when I make a comment about someone specific when we're shopping at WalMart for my kids not to shout "WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT THAT LADY STANDING OVER THERE, MOMMY?" and then have to explain myself.

Flash forward to being in the car today with the Son. We had some errands to run, and on the way home, I was making a left turn onto Main Street, but two cars were parked right in my line of sight. So I mumbled, "Dangit, I can't see." The Son, who has surprisingly been quiet, without skipping a beat, says to me,

"Well put on your glasses."

Smart kid he is. He makes me laugh every day. (He also makes me curse when he leaves matchbox cars strategically placed around the house so I step on them.)

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Life Lessons, this week's edition

I don't think I've done this one since my old blog. But certainly, I've learned a bit here and there. Here's what I can recall:

1. ALWAYS be nervous when you've put the Son's laundry in the washer, and upon walking away keep hearing this noise that makes you say, "What the hell IS that?" And then you open the door and a train falls out.

2. Pot Roast can be good. Especially when the meat only costs $2.45. (I know, I was scared, too).

3. Working from home and keeping chocolate in the house don't go together. Ever.

4. Other people think that "working from home" means "not doing anything."

5. When the lint screen from the dryer is filled with cashmere-like lint, chances are, there's something in there that shouldn't be.

6. When you dry something with even the slightest amount of cashmere in it, expect it to fit nothing larger than a Barbie.

7. When the Husband is walking toward any appliance and utters the words "Can you show me how to work this thing?" It's not going to turn out well.

(Note: these two events did not happen together. Sadly, I can't blame the cashmere incident on anyone else.)

Friday, January 8, 2010

When one door closes...

Another one should open.

Here's the thing.

Deep breath.

I am now unemployed.

And honestly? I'm not scared.

Exhale.

In a nutshell, the company that I worked for was effected by the economy. Some of you may or may not know, that started taking place last year, when my hours were cut. I freaked. I wasn't sure how we'd make things work around here, as we seem to constantly get ourselves over one hurdle only to find another one staring us in the face. Likely taller, harder, and more severe. Which is why the Husband and I refer to Livin' On A Prayer (from Bon Jovi, for those of you that have just crawled out from under a rock and gone directly to AT&T to purchase a CrackBerry) as "our song." I had the inkling that things were not getting better. Turns out, I was right. For the first time ever, I had to leave my job involuntarily.

Now, of course, I am upset. Who wouldn't be? But, I understand why. I've been told over and over that it was purely economical. And I get that. I honestly feel as though they were my family. It was a real family, we laughed, we fought, ultimately, we all worked together to make great things happen. My direct boss and I have a very interesting relationship. We can finish each other's sentences, we bicker, we just "get" each other. The owner referred to us as the old married couple. And some days, it did feel like I work with the Husband. (Minus the attraction.) So how ironic was it to find out upon leaving, that our own individual security codes (a 4-digit number that you choose to work the alarm) were the same? Crazy, right?

Anywho, let's get to the meat of this. I'm not scared. First, I will be continuing to work with them. And if/when they get more clients and work, I will be back. But, the Husband and I have been working toward a goal. A goal that will keep me home with the kidlets more. One that does not require making the equivalent of one car payment per week for childcare. One that keeps us all in a good mood, and easily accessible. Back when I was graduating college, my goal was that by the time I turned 35, I wanted to run my own business. Here I am, partway into the second anniversary of my 29th birthday, and I am working for me.

You know, the Husband and I aren't "financially stable." We never have been. We're just like most of America right now, where sometimes we struggle to make ends meet. Raising two kids isn't cheap. Owning a home isn't cheap. Maintaining two vehicles isn't cheap. Healthcare isn't cheap. Heck, eating isn't cheap, either. But we're going to make this work.

I still have freelance through two viable sources. I just need to add more to my arsenal. And undoubtedly, I have learned the skills over the past nine years in the industry that make me an asset. I know what my talents are. I know where I lack (PLEASE, don't require me to even operate a calculator). And for that, I'm not scared. I'm excited to get the daughter off the bus. I'm excited to hang out with the Son while he's in a stage of growth where I absolutely adore him. (The teenage years? I'm not really looking forward to that). And the Husband is happy that I will be home more. That he won't have to cook dinner every night. Even if we're splitting a can of peas. (Blech!)

There's some really strange things about the timing of this. First, I made my new website live the day I was laid off. Seriously. It's not done, so I'm not sharing yet. Check back later. Second, the Husband had a "Year Ahead" type questionnaire to hand in for work on that same day. One of his 5 goals he had to list? "Put our family in a better place, so I can fully support my wife in her own entrepreneurial venture." Third, well, there is no third. Except that now I have the time to help my mother in her own shenanigans with Basset Hound Rescue. And that really excites me, because she's becoming a very successful writer, and I'm happy to get to be a part of it.

Don't take this the wrong way, because I know there's a lot of people out there that are devastated to not be working. Trust me, I'll still be working. And if I had nothing to fall back on, I'd be up a creek. With no paddle. In a canoe. With two kids that aren't great swimmers. Yeah. But honestly, I'm being positive. 2010 is still going to be a great year for me. It has to be.

Because if I were to only look at the negative, that would be too easy. Like how I have purchased a Cadillac a month before I was jobless. And how the morning I was making my first trip to the unemployment office, I got a flat tire. And then got there too late, they were booked for the entire day. And on my second trip, getting there before opening, learning that I would not be helped that day either. And that the phone service was worse. And then having the neighbor's oil company accidentally put 84 gallons of heating oil into my tank and expecting me to pay the bill. And coming home to not having a working internet connection, thus rendering any sort of freelance work impossible.

It's all positive. Because ultimately, the Cadillac is cheaper than the Saab. Between repairs and everything else, we're not spending more money than we were. And the Brother-In-Law was able to fix my tire for free. And the oil company? Will get their reduced amount of money when we feel like paying them. But we won't run out of heat! I took on the internet and won. And have turned in two books to their respective clients since. And then, I went to the grocery store and found a bunch of yesterday's meat on clearance and have a week's worth of meals for $25. Because now I can get to the grocery store early.

This is my Rocktober, happening in January (note: check out the badge credit). We're halfway there. Bring on 2010!

Saturday, January 2, 2010

The 2009 Review.

I found this over at Jenn's Place, and I thought it was quite appropriate.Though, I have omitted the questions that I didn't have an answer for.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Photograph a fashion show and a big charity event.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't usually make resolutions because I stopped keeping them somewhere around 30 years ago. If I made any, I'm pretty sure it was something like "be less of a pain in the ass." And honestly, I am not sure how I fared on that. This was a really tough emotional year for me, so if I didn't keep my resolution, my apologies to all affected.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes, actually. My sister-in-law gave birth shortly after the new year.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
 Yes, as I posted, our cat, Tucker.

5. What countries did you visit? Umm, I read a blog based in the UK, does that count?

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? Patience. I am really trying to be more patient. But like I said, this has been an emotionally-charged year, and that has affected a lot of things.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Making the move to photography as a side business. Perhaps one day it will grow. 

9. What was your biggest failure?
I'm still not ready to discuss this here. 

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Sort of. It's more that we learned that I have a virus that my body hasn't been able to fight off. We don't know how long I've had it or why, but it has added to the tumultuous year. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?
It would be a toss-up between my camera equipment, the Wii and my new car. 

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
 Right now, the kitten's? There's been some serious behavior issues in our house lately. I am sure in the scope of other people's kids (namely like those you see on SuperNanny), ours aren't that bad, but nonetheless, it's behavior that the Husband and I don't condone. 

14. Where did most of your money go?
The mortgage. And daycare. 

15. What did you really, really, really get excited about?
Buying a new car. Photographing some weddings of some friends. Spending time with the fam. 

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Boom Boom Pow. 

17. Compared to this time last year are you:
Happier? Sadly, no.
Thinner? Definitely not.
Richer? Slightly. But I don't balance the check book, and that's the key to our marriage.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Laugh. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worry.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
With family and friends. And it was fantastic. 

21. How did you spend new years?
Hangin' with the fam, playing MarioKart for Wii. 

22. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Yes. With my oven. All over again. 

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Aside from the regulars, we started watching the Listener, which we LOVED. And it didn't air for an entire season. Sadface. 

26. What was the best book you read?
Eclipse. My favorite of the Twilight Series. I read the entire series roughly 4 times last year. 

28. What did you want and get?
 More Freelance work

29. What did you want and not get?
A "piggy bank ride" as the Son calls it. 

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
New Moon, hands down. 

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old did you turn?
I turned 31, and spent it with the family trekking around Boston. It was a great day, even though it was disgustingly hot and humid. And the cupcakes sucked. But it was a great time. 

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A Piggy bank ride? That would have been great. 

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Trying harder. I've been trying to make more of an effort at personal style, and though I know what I like when I see it in a magazine, I have a hard time buying clothes that I truly love past the day I bought them. Not all clothes, but sometimes I wish I could be on "What Not to Wear" so that I could have some initial help. The $5000 would be a nice starter, too. 

34. What kept you sane?
The vineyard and liquor store up the street. 


37. Who did you miss?
All my friends and family in the VA. I only saw one this year, and I met his new girlfriend. And she is amazing, exactly what he needed. I miss them dearly. 


39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
That you can't flush an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet and expect it to not flood the bathroom, subsequently leaking into the basement.