tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12036874392726687592024-03-12T20:29:11.314-04:00The Mama In RedTrue life accounts of randomness by a fun mom who has too many creative outlets and not enough time to devote to most of them, with a smattering of fun with the kidlets in public.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-57129067758460416212014-12-14T12:13:00.000-05:002014-12-14T12:13:15.325-05:00A Message to Parents of Athletes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If I could give one piece of advice to any parent of a child participating in a sport, it's to stop telling your kid to not play a certain position. Quit telling them not to play goalie/pitcher/catcher/defensive end/flyer. It's not fair to the kids, the coaches, or the team. Just. Stop. Talking. <br /><br />
First, let me explain what I think entitles me to tell you how to parent. I am a hockey mom, a soccer mom, a dance mom, and a softball mom. I have two kids (and a husband—he counts, too) and our whole family is active. Both the Husband and I coach as well. Right now, we're waist deep into hockey season, and I see it all the time—parents tell their kids "I don't want you to play goal, I want you to skate out." It drives me batshit crazy. And if I offend you by saying this, it means you're likely a parent that has crossed this line. We have a kid on our team who in general, doesn't understand the game of hockey. By watching the way he plays, he'd probably make a really good goalie. But his parents told him no. Now, like I said, we're waist deep in the season. I am also the Team Rep (I keep the books, play the Team Mom, and am the scorekeeper), so I see more of the kids and their parents than most others. I realized yesterday that I'd seen this kid's mom for the first time this season. THE FIRST TIME. But it's not just her. Quite a few parents have uttered these same words, and that pretty much guarantees that when you're not at the game, your kid will be in goal.<br />
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I'll also clarify: My kid is a part-time goalie. It's not easy to be a goalie mom. And goal isn't always his first choice. (Actually, mine would be any indoor sport where there's heat.) We don't have a dedicated goalie on our team, he does it because no one else will. They are Mites—this is their first opportunity at game play on the ice. It's the perfect time for every kid to try it—the league provides the specialized equipment and training for free. (And if you know anything about the cost of youth hockey, this is BIG.) And by playing goal now, no one is etching into stone that your kid will be goalie until The End Of Time. Do I like the pressure of the 1-on-1? No. But he's confident in goal, so I support him. I told him that no matter what, I will never be that parent that tells him where I want him to play. Here's why you should do the same. <br /><br /><b>Reason #1: You've done this already.</b> It's not your turn anymore, it's theirs. I once coached with a guy who stood by this simple motto, and it is so true. We're adults. Our time to learn fundamentals of a game are past us. If you trust your kids to be on the field, court, or ice with coaches, then let the coaches do their jobs. You've spent most of your parental life telling this child they can do anything. So stop telling them that they can't. Put your trust in them in any position. Sure, we all want our kid to be the center. But not all kids are centers. Some kids really excel as defensemen. Some kids play a wing position far better than the center plays the center position. Some kids are only here because parents need a few hours a week where they're not responsible for them. In this case, at least sign them up for a sport they want to do, not one you want them to try. Seriously, I can't teach your kid soccer fundamentals while he's climbing trees. <br />
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<b>Reason #2: You're not the coach.</b> A friend once told me that every season, it takes him at least half the season to get the kids to stop listening to their parents on the sideline and to listen to him. He's right. Yes, at some point in our lives, we've all played the same sport as our kids do. But that doesn't give us the right to undermine the coach and redirect our kid. If you want to do that, step up and be a coach. Otherwise, let the coaches do the coaching. We're not taking your right away to work on skills at home, but when we are in a team setting, sit down, shut up, and enjoy the game. Or take a nap, whatever works for you. <br />
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<b>Reason #3: This is a game, one meant for kids to have fun.</b> The first statement that I live by as a coach and as an athlete myself is that every player, when they step off the field/court/ice, should be excited to step back on it again—win or lose. Now, I'm not from the school of thought that every kid gets a trophy, they should earn it. But regardless, every kid should be excited to play the game. And if you're telling them they can't play a position because *you* want them to do something else, you might as well clean his ears out with Q-tips at halftime and bring turnips for the team to share after the game.<br />
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I get it, as parents, we want to protect our kids. But you also have to trust that they will make the right decisions under pressure without you. Sure, I bite my nails when my kid is in goal and a breakaway unfolds. But I have to have faith in his own confidence and training. And you know what is amazing? Seeing every kid on the ice skate over to my son to either congratulate him on a save or acknowledge that he tried his best, because they trust him too. I did the same when my daughter was a cheerleader. She got picked to be a flyer because she's tiny. Yes, I understand the risk of injury. But she's also really clumsy and could have the same injury walking across the street. That was a sport I despised growing up, but because she wanted to do it, I volunteered my time to help coach and run the organization. And it was one of the most fulfilling opportunities ever. I did it for the kids, not for myself. It was fun to learn with them, to help build their confidence, and to see the satisfied looks on their faces when they performed. But that happened by understanding what each kids' strengths and weaknesses were, and putting them in the correct position to support that. Trust me, I got plenty of parents who wanted to know why my kid was a flyer and theirs wasn't. But it wasn't about favoritism. If anything in coaching, my kids get the short end of the stick because I want to make sure that all the kids see I am here for them, not just my kid. Frankly, I'd rather let someone else coach my own kid, then I don't have to worry about that nonsense.<br />
<br />I think this also comes with having to understand who your kid really is. This kid I mentioned before, his parents are just...out to lunch. We've been working on a travel tournament for months, and I finally had to ask the dad directly if they are in or out, because I need to collect funds. His answer? "I'm really busy, so I probably missed it." WTF? Listen, I'm no super mom, but let me explain something. I work a day job as a Brand Manager. I have my own freelance business as a graphic/web designer and photographer that I do on nights and weekends. My Husband is a Manager at an auto dealership and also does inventory side work on weekends. I myself play soccer two nights a week. He plays hockey one night a week. As I said, my son plays hockey and soccer, and my daughter plays softball and is a dancer. I have the same 24 hours in a day as you do. I still find a way to make this all happen. We don't miss birthday parties and gatherings with friends, we fit those in, too. So don't give me this whole "I lead a busy life" crap, and then try to tell your kid that you think you know what position is best for them. The only position I'm trying to keep my kids from is hoping that my daughter doesn't end up dancing on a pole. The rest is fair game. Let them have fun, let them play where they want to, and if you don't like it, then just add Bourbon to your Dunkin Donuts coffee and you'll be better equipped to tolerate whatever the coaches decide. Capiche? The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-11842797050528459932014-05-28T12:40:00.000-04:002014-05-28T12:40:25.553-04:00What shapes you? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlsiINdtfACK74fqX1Qv-E-ifbQSnakbVxYYQGQOscyArSp5sSxMkIHSooXBlogGzYp8PAizPN-vPF14XEdIBurlrpsOzoEuJkv-lK5YYrtTqBbJCn1GsIMVIJC1pBAaYwQvZfOsZ-fM/s1600/Maya2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlsiINdtfACK74fqX1Qv-E-ifbQSnakbVxYYQGQOscyArSp5sSxMkIHSooXBlogGzYp8PAizPN-vPF14XEdIBurlrpsOzoEuJkv-lK5YYrtTqBbJCn1GsIMVIJC1pBAaYwQvZfOsZ-fM/s1600/Maya2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>Where does it come from? I don't always know, But there are a few notables that have shaped me more than I realized. I revisited one today. <br />
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Today is a sad day—one of my most inspirational mentors has passed. Today we said goodbye to Maya Angelou. I know, a lot of people think it's cliché, but in all honesty, about the only enjoyable thing I got out of American Lit in college was my love for Maya Angelou. I didn't even sell my textbooks from that class because that was where my connection started. When I write or speak, I do it from the heart. I'm not quiet. I speak my mind. I don't consider myself a feminist, but I've always supported self-empowerment, feminine or masculine. If you know me, you know I'm confident about who I am, what I want, and my ambition to get there. I've even said in interviews before "you won't find many people more ambitious than me." The first time I read "<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178942" target="_blank">Phenomenal Woman</a>," I was hooked. The more I read from Angelou, the more I started to understand who I was, and that I didn't need to be apologetic for it. So many of her quotes, stories, and poems spoke to me, as a woman who has never been scared to take life by the lapels, so she says.<br />
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It's not just about me. I wish more people would read her in the way I did, and not just women. Confidence is sexy, (not to be confused with cockiness, which is not) male or female. I wish people would become more confident, stand up straighter, and find their voice. I wish more people would take charge of their own life choices and realize that no one else is holding them down. It's an exhilarating feeling when you do. I've always been the one to lead the pack, the one to ask a guy out, the one to go after what I wanted. (I even asked the Husband out. Twice. He stood me up the first time.) I don't have time to wait around for those things to happen to me. I love when I get asked that question "what do you regret?" Nothing. Sure, I have regrettable things in my past, but I don't regret doing them. I made those choices, and those choices brought me here. Can't get mad at that, right? So what shaped you? Where's your confidence?<br />
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<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">...<br />It's in the click of my heels,<br />The bend of my hair,<br />The palm of my hand,<br />The need of my care,<br />'Cause I'm a woman<br />Phenomenally.<br />Phenomenal woman,<br />That's me.
</span><br /><br />RIP, Maya. You've left a legacy. The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-65549470564980375622014-04-16T07:54:00.001-04:002014-04-16T09:12:39.600-04:00The right moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNe16pfQ23iNILZ2EjvMVcMTyyGJw6fsnTbmrYeaNVloRS-Ijkgzmd-AIDrba3Vp8EWWBjkMnyHv6gLYeJ5nHiSkxzzFtCtF67PzgDxGUZW2NqkbLYNR668HQSJh1vDia4JzY3H9k_fI/s1600/sign2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNe16pfQ23iNILZ2EjvMVcMTyyGJw6fsnTbmrYeaNVloRS-Ijkgzmd-AIDrba3Vp8EWWBjkMnyHv6gLYeJ5nHiSkxzzFtCtF67PzgDxGUZW2NqkbLYNR668HQSJh1vDia4JzY3H9k_fI/s1600/sign2.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></div>
On Monday (April 14), the Husband sent this to me, it was from a blog that his company's owner sent to him and the management team. And it was very fitting: <br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
You might be waiting for things to settle down. For the kids to be old
enough, for work to calm down, for the economy to recover, for the
weather to cooperate, for your bad back to let up just a little...<br />
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The thing is, people who make a difference never wait for just the right time. They know that it will never arrive.<br />
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Instead, they make their ruckus when they are short of sleep, out of
money, hungry, in the middle of a domestic mess and during a blizzard.
Whenever.<br />
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As long as whenever is now.</blockquote>
Monday was my last day at work. I'd had enough, done all I could do in that position, so I walked away. It was a bold move, and they knew that I had nothing lined up (I've always had freelance, thank goodness—a true designer never stops working). But I made the choice. It has nothing to do with my Husband's job or who can support whom. This was a decision I made for me, because I preach louder than anyone I know—you must do what you love. And when you don't love it anymore, you need to make a change.<br />
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So for me, whenever is now. The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-63398894581523239562011-09-29T20:44:00.001-04:002011-09-29T20:54:28.863-04:00Yes, Mama's still here!I have fallen off so many horses 'round these parts, I'm surprised I know my own way home! To say it's been hectic is an understatement. Observe:<br />
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Since I last wrote (March!!! At least it was this year!), so much has gone by. We've had my father up to visit while he was working. He was only here for a night, and in true fashion, the Husband and I had another event we attended that day--we paddled for one of the three Team CRAs in the Run of the Charles. It's a 24-mile canoe relay race. It was cold, but lots of fun. And? The Husband and I pulled in the win for CRA. So it wasn't a total wash. But Dad came up, got to eat some of my home cookin' and got to play the Son in MarioKart. The next morning, we walked down to the gorge, where he attempted to teach the kidlets how to skip stones.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI2vVnpNq8X6ZZA64SCt_9-qB2gPuIm3n5XHJy5zBrtWojl0Mhd2umkFPExRE4RXqH28HTCbVJqOGeBSSTMnj6nnLat5JqQcvkxanqjvyygrp2ajb1PSnhAGN2wSYKXX6-RayV5T7dyk/s1600/ado%252Bdad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwI2vVnpNq8X6ZZA64SCt_9-qB2gPuIm3n5XHJy5zBrtWojl0Mhd2umkFPExRE4RXqH28HTCbVJqOGeBSSTMnj6nnLat5JqQcvkxanqjvyygrp2ajb1PSnhAGN2wSYKXX6-RayV5T7dyk/s400/ado%252Bdad.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><br />
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Then, we got to go home for the first time in more than two years. I photographed a good friends' wedding. It was an amazing experience.<br />
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What a good time with some old friends! It was fun. But we also got to spend time with my parents. Where again, the Son stuck to Pop Pop like glue. It was a weekend of air hockey, swimming, and shopping. Fun was had by all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqi0vInkVVr3OB4vzNmWevq1VFcByT5sUCmUPrktb5iIroYo5Zv7lFp_x8qY4QC3wMOSprPTDPccpjiACvtPrdpMsEQz5kSiGkkLxjvlDjtx5mm7SdTZhVTIvhHBzt_UTDSGh_LZGzfg/s1600/DSC_0108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqi0vInkVVr3OB4vzNmWevq1VFcByT5sUCmUPrktb5iIroYo5Zv7lFp_x8qY4QC3wMOSprPTDPccpjiACvtPrdpMsEQz5kSiGkkLxjvlDjtx5mm7SdTZhVTIvhHBzt_UTDSGh_LZGzfg/s400/DSC_0108.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Daughter was enamored with Mom's net book. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVg6coilR6zbYjsZd9lTTwuJAbltGIEsgqbrjeIgQOsp3fuNhVkoxhjDWEcewK91jxLs6Va9PE1aRq8mNywu3BomfQ7MVwCIqBShWLdZ86d_Q_dxn9HgfgdFfny_FlpYRn6I0jvgiX6M/s1600/DSC_0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVg6coilR6zbYjsZd9lTTwuJAbltGIEsgqbrjeIgQOsp3fuNhVkoxhjDWEcewK91jxLs6Va9PE1aRq8mNywu3BomfQ7MVwCIqBShWLdZ86d_Q_dxn9HgfgdFfny_FlpYRn6I0jvgiX6M/s400/DSC_0218.JPG" width="267" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dad and the Son worked on this helicopter that you build</div><div style="text-align: center;">and then fly all weekend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, in July, I got busier. Freelance has seriously built up, which is AMAZING. However, I feel like it should still just be May. I can't believe that the entire summer has passed me right by. Fast forward to August, when Football and Cheerleading start. And now, no evenings or weekends are mine. Seriously, I think my oven has started to wonder where I've been. We've had more takeout, drive-thru, and peanut butter sammiches than ever. I couldn't even make it on time to bake the ceremonial "First Day of School Cookies" until the night of the first day! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Son is playing flag football this year, and it's a good time. He's finally starting to grasp the concept. I don't care how he does, just that he shows effort in a team sport. He wants to play hockey (my wallet is crying!), but is working his way through football now. Which is nice, because both kids are on the field, but it just wears us out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJG-dtf8TqoZ22_mw-Cmg51vOdaTA7J-IyRLArzkhfyrRX_TLROl78hiUgl4BXkXnMD48X8RRngVx2f816ZUrMU2PNwdHXm0h7XFwgzdy9A9tTSXZCX8SZrm5I6sDel4UrmnoL8NuDPc/s1600/lionsF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJG-dtf8TqoZ22_mw-Cmg51vOdaTA7J-IyRLArzkhfyrRX_TLROl78hiUgl4BXkXnMD48X8RRngVx2f816ZUrMU2PNwdHXm0h7XFwgzdy9A9tTSXZCX8SZrm5I6sDel4UrmnoL8NuDPc/s400/lionsF.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Son is the tiny one in red, second from left. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_j65nwdw8pwkjiEhhFhkdi4WbHzmb1fZJmavuvi6RcNlZJLDMGlpl5MEd74lDcs3yR_7d0h4RpGBJTs01WiArdJe1LqS3zbzDyH2ebE8Fud_NgOdFBE_EbFds9vbfSXyYx9M9nOEBG6E/s1600/avery2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_j65nwdw8pwkjiEhhFhkdi4WbHzmb1fZJmavuvi6RcNlZJLDMGlpl5MEd74lDcs3yR_7d0h4RpGBJTs01WiArdJe1LqS3zbzDyH2ebE8Fud_NgOdFBE_EbFds9vbfSXyYx9M9nOEBG6E/s320/avery2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yep, that's the Daughter. The one on top. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So that brings us to fall. Where the Son had his First Day Of School (photos are on the iphone, sadly), and the "busy season" has begun. I shot another wedding last weekend (and haven't had a chance to download photos yet) and had another senior portrait session this week. And we're headed to Maine this weekend (hopefully) for some family R&R.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Who am I kidding, there will be no rest. And likely no relaxation. But it'll be a fun getaway, filled with fried clams and foliage. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What more could a Mama ask for? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-55780896326834101342011-03-24T21:46:00.001-04:002011-03-24T21:47:00.799-04:00Mama's Bitchin' KitchenI realize that I haven't written in forever. So I started reading some of my old posts and came to an alarming conclusion: I never blog about my cooking. Those of you that know me know that I am all about cooking and baking. And if I do say so myself, I'm pretty damn good at it. Cooking and baking are basics to learn, and with time, focus, and patience (trust me, I have none); anyone can master it. Baking scares a lot of people, and that makes me sad. Baking is so much fun, and there's nothing better than showing up to an event with some freshly baked goodness and having people ooh and aah over how good they came out. Of course, I get a little offended sometimes when I feel like people doubt my abilities, which usually makes me flex my baking muscles. I was once told that lemon bars were impossible by someone who was a mediocre cook at best. So I went home that night and made two pans. They were fantastic, might I add...<br />
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Anywho, the point. I love to cook and bake. From scratch. I don't do box mixes or icing cans. And I've yet to come across a recipe that scares me. (Yes, there was <a href="http://mamainred.blogspot.com/2010/07/first-fail-in-kitchen.html">that one mishap</a>, but I've accepted it and moved on.) So I'll do my best to post more about the good eats here. 'Cause if it's one thing I've learned, food will bring people, whether it be to my house or to read my blog. Hey, maybe that's why I've been invited to more events lately?<br />
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So, Mama's whippin' up some chocolate, red-velvetish cupcakes. Not true red velvet, because it's too damn hard (and expensive) to find unprocessed dutch cocoa. And really, I just don't have the time. Maybe when I get an assistant, that should be their first assignment. A friend called and asked me to whip up some goodness for a bridal shower, and I was glad to step up. She's actually recommended me to bake, photograph, design, and probably organize other people's lives--so of course I obliged. Like I said, any opportunity to flex my muscles and whip out the Analon pans...<br />
<br />
Without further adieu, I give you:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIFEzjnZXxN3aKL_PXkhb463VW98w1aSBRJP8bN-K7mBqnWvItAdzzk1Bex7QQd_fa1lMjEDnWxbDHkoHgEsXoEKasHrPcRvEboqIDCc2WmtIoSVzY3SHVVQGrW-g7tG49sJl4NiXzDY/s1600/redvelvet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIFEzjnZXxN3aKL_PXkhb463VW98w1aSBRJP8bN-K7mBqnWvItAdzzk1Bex7QQd_fa1lMjEDnWxbDHkoHgEsXoEKasHrPcRvEboqIDCc2WmtIoSVzY3SHVVQGrW-g7tG49sJl4NiXzDY/s1600/redvelvet.jpg" /></a></div>They are a red velvet-like (which is chocolate with lots of baking soda, really) with a cream cheese icing. The bride is having black, pink and white as her colors, so I happened to have these hot pink sugars for a topping. Yes, I am really that nerd that can't walk past anything related to baking without bringing something home. I don't often share all my recipes, but the goodness of this one? The icing. Brace yourself:<br />
<br />
2 sticks of butter<br />
8 oz (1 brick) cream cheese--I always use Neufchatel cheese<br />
3-3.5 cups powdered sugar<br />
1 tsp vanilla<br />
<br />
That's it. Beat the butter, beat in the cream cheese, toss in the vanilla, and slowly add in the powdered sugar. Now, I added more sugar to my recipe because I wanted it to be really firm--note the tips of the icing. I did this because the last time I used Cabot butter, it started to fall apart on me like a margarine would.<br />
<br />
You're welcome.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-79871372732540914492011-01-21T15:44:00.002-05:002011-01-22T08:51:51.243-05:00The journey to fill a void...For the past month or so, the kidlets have been on a mission. They've been pulling at the Husband and I until we caved (We being me, the Husband just followed). We tried to resist and stand tall together, but deep inside, we knew they were right, we were ready. Enter the fill to our void, appropriately named by the kidlets, Bella:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nh0OiqSxGIiThdRqdSiDFtumghqY658enV7ea9__IPOU4sVbQvZI8ykk1WvIYR95yx_uyI_hn4Xx5Sq1HEXUwDqaCPCXuMLyRMYtDvAQSrcCR-_UAl698w4ToDuWg4UUNGCnOWheCf4/s1600/Bella2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nh0OiqSxGIiThdRqdSiDFtumghqY658enV7ea9__IPOU4sVbQvZI8ykk1WvIYR95yx_uyI_hn4Xx5Sq1HEXUwDqaCPCXuMLyRMYtDvAQSrcCR-_UAl698w4ToDuWg4UUNGCnOWheCf4/s1600/Bella2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nh0OiqSxGIiThdRqdSiDFtumghqY658enV7ea9__IPOU4sVbQvZI8ykk1WvIYR95yx_uyI_hn4Xx5Sq1HEXUwDqaCPCXuMLyRMYtDvAQSrcCR-_UAl698w4ToDuWg4UUNGCnOWheCf4/s400/Bella2.jpg" width="266" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She's a doll isn't she? I know, it's unlikely. The kidlets, they banded together against us and won. They wanted a dog. Not just any dog, but a small dog. A dog that could wear sweaters and was smaller than them and would be all snuggly. My first choice for something small was an Italian Greyhound. So I set out to find one. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You know what I found? That I can't stand rescues that clearly have no urgency to adopt out their animals. I've done work with animal rescues most of my life. And what I can never get past is how they make people jump through hoops, tell them "You must have W, X, Y, and Z all approved, and then email us before we'll even answer you." And when you complete all of the above, and then they still don't call you? Seriously, no one should have to beg to pay money and save an animal. It's just silly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So anyhow, I turned to my trusty friend, Craigslist. And I came across a great lady who has her own rescue, but she does cats, dogs, geese, ducks, horses, llamas, anything. I think she's really like the animal whisperer, they must just show up at her door. But she sprung Bella from the pound. And through speaking to her, we realized that Bella had all the qualities we were looking for in a companion. Most importantly, she did not have the qualities we didn't want. And now, she's our dog. And we love her. And I'm pretty sure she's happy to be a part of our family, too. I mean, just look at her sitting so pretty in her new winter coat: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Sjd75yIBNEY4PEl6yC6OfLPDjzaLsosgADDN6kjRjdVDLDkhjYSRY7zqtRW1Ja-nNnr7_ZI-t8trVfb9jLcSlSNFw8kdYoODKpn5xX904hiRClN_88MMF0t5S9oLahYJxy6nA5qmKdk/s1600/bella_coat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Sjd75yIBNEY4PEl6yC6OfLPDjzaLsosgADDN6kjRjdVDLDkhjYSRY7zqtRW1Ja-nNnr7_ZI-t8trVfb9jLcSlSNFw8kdYoODKpn5xX904hiRClN_88MMF0t5S9oLahYJxy6nA5qmKdk/s400/bella_coat.jpg" width="267" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She is truly a great dog. She loves rides in the truck, she gets super-excited to put on a sweater or coat, she adores the kidlets, and she even burrows under the covers at night. (When I don't want her in bed with me & The Husband, she does so in the Daughter's bed!) But you gotta watch her tongue, she gets a bit excited in the morning and tries to clean off your face: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XIqOH_eWJQXCt9RfSDi6k_zNglO8mjRXgSJ29BzOy0Peyv3VEuApA6HMBBBcXj13_nq_1focJJjV0jJ9PSpXKIe_S7GPnOyvt3jpMfCLpdBfDCni55TWYHJI3SOQTGiacwiCEm-o5hg/s1600/Bella3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XIqOH_eWJQXCt9RfSDi6k_zNglO8mjRXgSJ29BzOy0Peyv3VEuApA6HMBBBcXj13_nq_1focJJjV0jJ9PSpXKIe_S7GPnOyvt3jpMfCLpdBfDCni55TWYHJI3SOQTGiacwiCEm-o5hg/s400/Bella3.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I mean, look at that thing! It's huge! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Welcome to the family, Bella! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-60959757487521897952011-01-21T15:16:00.000-05:002011-01-21T15:16:09.376-05:00A story about a boy and his hippo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wUvo9NHrHJs7iJTxoflTRNdY72ikMzW1HaD9zRxoWszbNqmgFkdYOxihBYwlQO54XY7oSaRwmo6c5ZGUtOkx9MYaM0tys7qFcv6sU2bmxeZ8K8zsbOWR969-SoqfAAeAABeRKMCCXOQ/s1600/boy_hippo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wUvo9NHrHJs7iJTxoflTRNdY72ikMzW1HaD9zRxoWszbNqmgFkdYOxihBYwlQO54XY7oSaRwmo6c5ZGUtOkx9MYaM0tys7qFcv6sU2bmxeZ8K8zsbOWR969-SoqfAAeAABeRKMCCXOQ/s640/boy_hippo2.jpg" width="427" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love this kid. </div>The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-91396514174788466002011-01-11T13:52:00.000-05:002011-01-11T13:52:13.592-05:00Mama's Bitchin' Kitchen: A RecipeI don't normally give out recipes, because quite honestly, I'd rather make them for you. It's a control thing. If I've taken my time to write up a recipe, I'm always worried that I'll give it out, someone will scribble it down and then mess it all up. And then that would ruin my 'rep around these parts. So hold onto your hats, this is a good one.<br />
<br />
It's only week two of the new year, and judging by the attendance at the gym lately, people are still on this losin' weight thing for a resolution. How long until this wears off? 'Cause if I've gotta scrounge up a matching set of dumbbells again at the gym, I'm going to lose my patience. <br />
<br />
One of the hardest things for me after a tough workout is to fight the voracious appetite that follows for the rest of the day. So I try to keep high-protein items around to keep me filled up. And I'm attempting to drink more water. Which has made me acutely aware that I need to stock up on entirely more toilet paper than I have been lately. But anyhow, one of the recipes I've worked up lately is a good granola recipe. I make a batch, and even the kidlets are crazy for this stuff. Get your pen:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_mdQIwMU5AlYiaQY9sxLQHb4UKwdB5FkSn4OKOGhS0NV2UZLKfSH7_sC_Xjodxg62XthkiH4sbERkZ7CQsA1lg8RswscAOpMtb1QZ9ta55RHIeNyvPxwvkYHGf9GNz3ghGxW1VF7A-Q/s1600/granola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_mdQIwMU5AlYiaQY9sxLQHb4UKwdB5FkSn4OKOGhS0NV2UZLKfSH7_sC_Xjodxg62XthkiH4sbERkZ7CQsA1lg8RswscAOpMtb1QZ9ta55RHIeNyvPxwvkYHGf9GNz3ghGxW1VF7A-Q/s400/granola.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Mama's Granola</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*All of these items are from the bulk section of the grocery store. Not sure where they keep it? <br />
Look around the organics. Or close to produce. </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">___<br />
DRY INGREDIENTS: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2 c. raw rolled oats (NOT quick-cooking)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 c. Almonds--slivered or whole, but if whole, use a food chopper or processor. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 c. Soy Nuts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/4 c. Pistachios, chopped</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/3 c. coconut</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dash cinnamon</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">___</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">WET INGREDIENTS:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 c. honey</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2-3 Tbsp. Vegetable oil</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2-3 Tbsp. Molasses</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/4 c. brown sugar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">pinch of sea salt</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Preheat oven to 350. Spray a cookie sheet with nonstick spray. Mix dry ingredients in a huge bowl. In a small pan, combine your wet ingredients and mix with a whisk until blended and thin, not gloppy. Add wet ingredients to dry and thoroughly coat. Spread on cookie sheet and bake for 20-25 minutes. Pull out of oven and let cool and harden before putting into a glass jar or plastic bag. Scoop out and eat! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">___</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few notes: </div><ul><li>Spray your measuring cup with nonstick spray before measuring your honey--then it won't stick. (Coat your spatula and bowl, too, if you wish)</li>
<li>You can add 1 tsp. vanilla to the wet ingredients *after* you remove it from the heat. I did not, and I add vanilla to EVERYTHING. I think this is great without it. </li>
<li>On my first run, I ran out of honey. So I added a bit of Karo Light Corn Syrup to the mix. Personally, I think that batch turned out better. The Husband likes this batch with all honey. Try both, see what you like. </li>
<li>Use Vegetable oil, not olive oil. Olive oil has a lower smoking point. You can use a canola or corn oil, but I would stick with a vegetable base at least. Enova is great oil, too. </li>
<li>I added more soy nuts the second time around. The Husband first tasted them from the bag and was disgusted by them. But add them all together, and I swear it is amazing. </li>
</ul>Now, go forth and eat! <br />
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</div>The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-84888277637414756992011-01-01T21:40:00.001-05:002011-01-01T21:49:05.297-05:00Waving good-bye...or hello?So here we are, facing a whole new year. Everyone seems to be pretty split, like 80/20 bad year/good year. I think the Husband and I fall somewhere in the 20%. We had a lot thrown our way, and both of us have agreed, that while some times were emotionally taxing, we dealt with everything with grace and we did well, as we always do. No doubt, hard times have made the two of us become closer, and we're proud of that. So here's what our 2010 looked like:<br />
<br />
<b>First, I lost my job.</b> And while it was tough to be one of the statistics, I decided I was going to embrace it and move forward with the plan that I decided a long time ago: to be running my own successful business by the time I was 35.<br />
<br />
<b>I joined a gym for the first time ever.</b> I decided that there's no time like the present to get healthy. And it's working!<br />
<br />
<b>I became more active in the Daughter's school </b>by helping design the yearbook and volunteering at BEPO (our version of the PTA) events. The husband and I believe that if we show a genuine interest in the things our kids like, they will take them seriously, too. The Daughter is excited that I get to be a part of these things--something I know will change all too soon, when she's ready to forget she has parents. I get overwhelmed with it, but in reality, I do love doing it. There's such a gratifying feeling when it's all done.<br />
<br />
<b>We were able to take our first "vacation"</b> by taking a few days and going down to Easton, PA to the Crayola Factory. What a fantastic trip! <br />
<br />
<b>I met some new friends </b>by signing the kidlets up for swimming lessons, and those friends have now become some of our closest friends lately.<br />
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<b>We visited Lackey Dam Road.</b> Multiple times. My mother-in-law was laid off this past year, too. So over the summer, we were out with the kidlets quite often, and whenever we seemed to get lost, we were on Lackey Dam Road. So it became the joke of the summer, "Hey kids, Lackey Dam Road!" It was the source of many, many, many laughs.<br />
<br />
<b>I became a cheerleading coach and the Cheerleading Commissioner</b> for the Daughter's new league. If you know me, you know cheerleading is something I NEVER did. (I know, the irony!) But since the Daughter is a cheerleader, I decided that if I had to spend so much time at the fields, I was going to find a way to help out. And I did. I volunteered to work with <a href="http://www.eteamz.com/LionsFootballCheerleading/">an organization</a> where I knew no one, and it has turned out to honestly be one of the best decisions I have made. I've come away with lots of new friends and an amazing group of people. Coaching is an amazing feeling, especially at the age where they really look up to you. I'm so proud of those girls, and even though I am learning just as they are, I hope they know that they all had just as large or larger of an impact on me as I did for them.<br />
<br />
Quite possibly one of the hardest things I had to deal with this year was the decision to put my longtime companion, <a href="http://mamainred.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-12th-birthday-teddy.html">Teddy</a>, down. I still miss him every day. Teddy had severe bone and muscle deterioration, and our vet thinks he likely developed a bone cancer. But he was 12 and medicine wasn't helping. So without making him suffer, I made the decision to send him to heaven with Klinger, Charles, and Bob. I miss him dearly, but I know in my heart that it was right, that he was in pain.<br />
<br />
And then that night, I got to ride in an ambulance for the first time ever. One of my girls was in a stunt, and she "toed down" (when you point your toes down instead of keeping your feet flat), and her spots didn't catch her. I swear we heard her nose crack on the floor. Surprisingly, she didn't break it. Poor thing, I really don't know her well, and she had no one else to ride with her. So I held her hand and tried to comfort her, the best way I knew how. Which was still awkward, and even more so when her mother got there, but that's another story for another day. I needed a stiff drink. <br />
<br />
<b>We reworked our mortgage and did some work to our house. </b>Our house was brand new when we bought it four years ago (!). But it's also a half-duplex. The other half looks just like ours. They even painted similar colors. So we've always known that we need to upkeep and do more to get more value out of our house. We put in new wood floors (which I love) and a new back door. We've got more plans for 2011 (tearing down our existing deck to deal with a water problem and rebuild it), but we're happy that we still own a great home.<br />
<br />
<b>I was able to rebuild my photography portfolio and start from fresh.</b> (BTW, <a href="http://www.aguilmainphotography.com/">check me out</a>!) I want to get behind the lens more. It still scares me, I'm way more confident in <a href="http://www.amandadawnguilmain.com/">my design work</a>, but there's something exhilarating about being pushed out of my comfort zone. I'd still like to expand my client base for design, but I'd like to have more balance. More time away from the computer. <br />
<br />
<b>Most of all, we spent the holidays with friends and family.</b> We didn't get to travel to Virginia Beach this year, as that just wasn't in the budget. But we did spend Turkey Day with our new found friends, a family with whom we've had many game nights and amazing campfire discussions. They've become very close to us, and it's a great feeling.<br />
<br />
So looking forward, here's our 2011 plan:<br />
<br />
<b>The Husband and I are still committed to being healthier.</b> I know, most people say this. But I've seen my body change over the past year. Now, if I could get rid of all this damn chocolate, we'll be on our way. (But we all know I can't be wasteful) The Husband has decided that he wants to be serious about getting healthier, as we're both not getting any younger. So we'll eat better, I'll continue with the gym 3-4 times a week, and we'll go from there.<br />
<br />
<b>I'm focusing more on my work here.</b> I need to still build some client base, and that may mean working outside of the home. But we'll see. I've had some great conversations over the past few weeks, and let's just keep our fingers crossed. Also? A very good friend of mine just asked the love of his life to marry him, so I'll be shooting their wedding. Which will hopefully take place this year, but I haven't asked. I figure they're answering enough of those questions, I'll just let them enjoy being engaged. I'm also hoping to build enough of a schedule to keep busy when the Son goes to school in the fall (*tear*). But I want to still have boatloads of fun with the kidlets and find a way to get more work done. <br />
<br />
My ultimate goal/resolution? <b>To feel better about myself.</b> I spent the last 2-3 months of 2010 not comfortable. It was an emotionally taxing period. It felt like we tackled everything but the working for myself thing. Which is hard for me, I'm a very career-minded person, but a lot of my freelance tapered off. So it did awful things to my self-esteem. Pair that with falling off the gym horse and the Daughter saying things like "You need to suck it in, mom..." and you have a recipe for disaster. Now, I know she's only seven, and the jeans were a size too small, but paired with the time and place, I needed a pick me up. Note to self: the answer is NOT four Peppermint Mocha martinis.<br />
<br />
Of course, I'm still going to bake more and cook more. 2010 was an awesome year for cooking and baking for me, and I'm convinced 2011 will be even better. I've learned some new skills, and paired with an amazing (cheap) produce shop and a garden, this is going to be one Bitchin' Kitchen. <br />
<br />
So here we go. We wave goodbye to 2010, take all the lessons we learned and tuck them away for future use. We say hello to 2011, 'cause we're gonna kick ass this year!The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-54412283139300300292010-11-03T15:37:00.000-04:002010-11-03T15:37:23.235-04:00How 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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
That's my girl!<br />
<br />
(Side Note: She does pick out her clothes, and she'll tell you, it's "all about the fashion." Such a DIVA)The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-33132314536259940012010-09-01T16:12:00.000-04:002010-09-01T16:12:06.665-04:00The 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.<br />
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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 <i>this morning</i>. I was told yes, and what room she was in.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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, <a href="http://www.flamingoflowersonline.com/">Flamingo Flowers</a>. 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. <br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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???<br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-23018878808253791672010-09-01T15:30:00.000-04:002010-09-01T15:30:54.125-04:00Wait, 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.<br />
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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...).<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-26985791366579114462010-07-05T22:25:00.000-04:002010-07-05T22:25:39.692-04:00A 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 href="http://www.wownewengland.com/index.html">a gym</a> 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.<br />
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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?"<br />
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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 <i>and</i> 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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://support.gloriagemma.org/site/TR/FlamesofHope/GloriaGemma5k?fr_id=1040&pg=entry">Gloria Gemma Breast Cancer 5K</a> in Providence, and the second is the <a href="http://www.girlygirlparts.com/">Girly Girl Parts 5K for ovarian cancer</a> 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.<br />
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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!The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-37318418632935608082010-07-05T22:07:00.000-04:002010-07-05T22:07:02.955-04:00A 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--<a href="http://cupcakerehab.com/2010/04/fluffernutter-cupcakes/">fluffernutter cupcakes</a>. 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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bondo_%28putty%29">Bondo</a>. 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-89344267934266209682010-06-29T20:22:00.000-04:002010-06-29T20:22:46.529-04:00Too girly for my own good?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQSf5eLVhMD8iIn991Kn7cvIeQg28I99eMHAnyhjgJKAsXXkC3sEyHx9CxBx2ipz1bYINH9jgBqbJOjioF-hz_-U3FZWh7YJrNYYoJRZK_5GHattRU9GQVgj82YhXzNf8RWDOPlQfsWw/s1600/pomtini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQSf5eLVhMD8iIn991Kn7cvIeQg28I99eMHAnyhjgJKAsXXkC3sEyHx9CxBx2ipz1bYINH9jgBqbJOjioF-hz_-U3FZWh7YJrNYYoJRZK_5GHattRU9GQVgj82YhXzNf8RWDOPlQfsWw/s200/pomtini.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>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.<br />
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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 <strike>find from the rubble</strike> 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?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-53308453166312547612010-06-09T09:05:00.000-04:002010-06-09T09:05:00.295-04:00What 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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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So I don't know what the hell is going on around here. Now, I know what you're thinking, we've already discussed <a href="http://mamainred.blogspot.com/2009/08/truth-about-me-and-electronics.html" target="_blank">how appliances and I don't mix</a>. 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.<br />
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And this is precisely why I have absolutely no interest in an electric car. Can you blame me?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-85579803064323155212010-05-12T12:38:00.000-04:002010-05-12T12:38:54.916-04:00My Oprah List.So I was hangin' out over at <a href="http://www.thestilettomom.com/">The Stiletto Mom's place</a>, 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...<br />
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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?<br />
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Mama doesn't do wildlife.<br />
Mama doesn't do peas.<br />
Mama doesn't do crummy food.<br />
Mama doesn't dust.<br />
Mama doesn't do tents. Or hippies in tents.<br />
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?)<br />
Mama doesn't do screaming children. Mine or other people's.<br />
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.)<br />
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.<br />
Mama doesn't [like to] do yardwork. But I do the gardens, I even scooped today.<br />
Mama doesn't do pink. Magenta? Love. Bright, bold colors? Can't get enough of them. But pastel pink? Do not like.<br />
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.<br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-28285298415298831512010-05-10T09:44:00.000-04:002010-05-10T09:44:24.974-04:00Have 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://www.michiganbassetrescue.org/mbr_waddle.html">Michigan Basset Rescue</a>. 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.<br />
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But wait, it doesn't stop there. Her Houndz have personalities, like <a href="http://www.elderclaraeats.biz/">Elder Clara</a> 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 <a href="http://www.dogster.com/dogs/783584">Brudder Elwood</a>, Instigator of Evil Deeds. I think he tells his tales on the <a href="http://www.dailydrool.com/">Daily Drool</a>. 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) <br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-19244413160143389422010-05-05T14:57:00.002-04:002010-05-05T15:03:10.718-04:00Is 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.<br />
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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 <a href="http://mamainred.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-12th-birthday-teddy.html" target="_blank">Teddy</a> 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."<br />
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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.<br />
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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).<br />
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Wait a minute, why can't I have chickens?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-24195061802178131582010-05-03T17:30:00.001-04:002010-05-03T20:15:00.098-04:00Dinner with the fam: The River Falls Edition.Last night, the Husband and I decided to use a gift certificate to <a href="http://www.riverfallscomplex.com/" target="_blank">River Falls</a> 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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-67038947677746116332010-05-01T14:54:00.000-04:002010-05-01T14:54:02.795-04:00Spring 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:<br />
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<a href="http://www.k5.com/reef-sandals-store/footwear-women-s-sandals/ginger-women-s-sandals-in-black-purple/">Reef Ginger flip flops in Purple</a>:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEqtz5HMcGCeuAFSk_VVZxnj7cNdTjiisUQd_OH0jgWDg9AFO-pC-Nn6hBKDJI9sJp_B1uF0mVF-NqXn9f4VetxUyq7OoQkM3ouQ8lD3i4Kz3j-m-okRpJ-zkYiTchjKiOiStUCvlj-Ic/s1600/GINGER_BLKPUR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEqtz5HMcGCeuAFSk_VVZxnj7cNdTjiisUQd_OH0jgWDg9AFO-pC-Nn6hBKDJI9sJp_B1uF0mVF-NqXn9f4VetxUyq7OoQkM3ouQ8lD3i4Kz3j-m-okRpJ-zkYiTchjKiOiStUCvlj-Ic/s320/GINGER_BLKPUR.jpg" /></a></div>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.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Princess-Swiss-Topaz-Earrings-White/dp/B002PZSRPS">Some new Aquamarine/Blue Topaz earrings</a>:<br />
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:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PO9Yhceve1Cs1fp7aV6UgOb615gGXvGINVQXej3Pw2Mzw8kHw5Ciw4IsMqnvqvzPQtT2XxMg78t2LjUouDzKSMhVKesIm4JCh1tF1EiRFd4wyBUzvila75OHr_zMom-tXHLzdFnH94c/s1600/bltopaz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PO9Yhceve1Cs1fp7aV6UgOb615gGXvGINVQXej3Pw2Mzw8kHw5Ciw4IsMqnvqvzPQtT2XxMg78t2LjUouDzKSMhVKesIm4JCh1tF1EiRFd4wyBUzvila75OHr_zMom-tXHLzdFnH94c/s320/bltopaz.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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!<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Coach-Madison-Crossbody-Messenger-Purple/dp/B002XPXQVA/ref=sr_1_65?ie=UTF8&s=apparel&qlEnable=1&qid=1272661000&sr=1-65">The Coach Cross-body Op Art bag</a>:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjm62iOCgukFWUyCHNtVwWR_RpzR1v7SDki57ZWDs-U1sVsG5RXr0eF8k0wfPRyNeyX3vXFzv6A-eFRsd4KPRN2zKtT01invXg1J9Sre9gcGGd653JpWpM7WKUfQ9gblclAZVEUKaLgo/s1600/coachopartbrooke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjm62iOCgukFWUyCHNtVwWR_RpzR1v7SDki57ZWDs-U1sVsG5RXr0eF8k0wfPRyNeyX3vXFzv6A-eFRsd4KPRN2zKtT01invXg1J9Sre9gcGGd653JpWpM7WKUfQ9gblclAZVEUKaLgo/s320/coachopartbrooke.jpg" /></a></div>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. <br />
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Summer Dresses:<br />
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. =) <br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jill-e-769367-Camera-Leather-Small/dp/B000SKML2C">A Jill-e Bag for my Camera Equipment</a>:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNVfD4-owLUMgXAawNPPgnqON1328pC81fBWBz2W3Wr39-Hr0VxU3iyAgNc6xl18AwyW1VSC1v4bdbYtnpCEIrSSPiF2SMqHFFp2e2qUdWI7QVbWuZrdjtR_V7B5fvXHSU356Oe16ELE/s1600/jille_small_red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNVfD4-owLUMgXAawNPPgnqON1328pC81fBWBz2W3Wr39-Hr0VxU3iyAgNc6xl18AwyW1VSC1v4bdbYtnpCEIrSSPiF2SMqHFFp2e2qUdWI7QVbWuZrdjtR_V7B5fvXHSU356Oe16ELE/s320/jille_small_red.jpg" /></a></div>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? <a href="http://www.shareasale.com/r.cfm?b=189687&u=428249&m=23047&urllink=&afftrack=">Click here</a>.<br />
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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.<br />
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What's on your list?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-17826082929491017212010-04-30T16:35:00.001-04:002010-04-30T16:38:18.610-04:00How 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 <a href="http://www.bhphotovideo.com/c/product/606443-REG/Crumpler_MD_04_07A_4_Million_Dollar_Home.html">Four Million Dollar Home</a>, 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:<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=1203687439272668759" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="http://www.shareasale.com/r.cfm?b=189687&u=428249&m=23047&urllink=&afftrack=" target="_blank"><img alt="fashion, function, fun, your croppin companion jill-e designs camera bags" border="0" src="http://www.shareasale.com/image/jill-e_banner-sb.gif" /></a><br />
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How fabulous are they? Now, I considered a <a href="http://www.kellymoorebag.com/">Kelley Moore bag</a>, 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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=1203687439272668759" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Thanks! Tell your friends! Buy one for Mama for Mother's Day!The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-25158323107176651972010-04-19T21:45:00.000-04:002010-04-19T21:45:30.368-04:00Coordination: 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. <br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-64188676198770830782010-04-15T16:37:00.006-04:002010-04-15T16:46:19.815-04:00Happy 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 <a href="http://www.norfolkspca.com/index.html" target="_blank">Norfolk SPCA</a> in a box, your mother in a bag next to you. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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).<br />
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The fun part began when I took you to <a href="http://www.acredaleanimalhospital.com/" target="_blank">my parents' veterinarian</a> 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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1203687439272668759.post-52232766461563551082010-04-07T21:52:00.000-04:002010-04-07T21:52:31.350-04:00Town 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.<br />
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For some reason, the <a href="http://www.townofblackstone.org/" target="_blank">Town of Blackstone</a> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <b>The public has NO rights</b>. This allows towns to send out bills late and <i>purposely</i> 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. <br />
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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.<br />
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The best part? The Tax Collector told me that apparently <i>I</i> am the <i>only person</i> 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? <br />
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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.The Mama In Redhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01584671858690196016noreply@blogger.com0