Ce Soir ou Jamais

Moving

2006-09-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

I'm turning a new stone and have decided to blog at a new address. That is, when I do have the time again to blog!

Please update your favorites/links to our new address:

Life at Monkey Hill

Thanks! See ya round the new hood soon!

Piper!

2006-09-12T14:47:00.000-07:00

I would have never dreamt this in a million years, but on August 29, two weeks ago today, I gave birth to my second daughter. I've not the time to tell you all the drama and excitement that has surrounded her arrival into this world, though I will say that she is absolutely perfect. PERFECT.

Here she is just minutes old.

And here she is earlier this morning. Like her mommy, she is waiting to get her nails done.

I can't say when I will be back online to share with you the highs and lows that comes with being a new (again) mommy, but I promise it will be soon! I know I can't keep my fans waiting too long.

40 weeks, 2 days....

2006-08-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after the sudden burst of energy which is typical of a pregnant woman about to go into labor, I started to experience labor.!!! It was starting to happen. I had been out walking the dog after making a batch of my world famous chocolate chip cookies. Suddenly I couldn't walk anymore and I had to get inside. It was all I could do to stand. "I'm going to have a baby!" I exclaimed. My dog smiled at me and thought I was talking about cuddling him.

After many hours of having contractions 10 minutes apart, I fell asleep. I was worn out. My husband was tired of massaging my back, too. At 2am I woke up feeling as intense as I had at 10pm. It didn't last long. My husband simply acknowledged me in his sleep with a "Cool" when I tried to wake him with, "I just had 2 more contractions!" I ended up falling back to sleep. When I got up at 6am, it was like nothing had happened: no intensity, no feelings of labor. Nada. In fact, I had dreamt that I was simply mistaking morning sickness for labor.

So I did some housework and hung out with my hubby and daughter. Then at 10am, it all started again. I thought, "This is it! We are having a baby today!" My husband called in sick and my daughter made sure she had all the necessary items in her overnight bag. I called my doctor and was told that if I was feeling as intense as I was last night, go straight to the hospital. So, just to be sure, I waited. And had contractions. And got so emotional that I could barely talk to my friend who is Darian's birth partner. I cried and couldn't stop. My friend thought for sure I was in labor. The dogs stopped barking and my daughter hugged me tight. We left for the hospital at 2 this afternoon.

And nothing happened. I spent close to 2 hours on the fetal monitor in triage and NOT ONE contraction. I was getting uncomfortable with the position I was laying in and hoping the resident would make his way in to check my cervix. How far am I dilated? Will I be discharged from triage and admitted, or sent home? Is this the real life or is this just fantasy? Because by this time, I wasn't easy come, easy go, but I was a little high and a little low. You who have born children know what I am talking about.

It was then that I met the real life Doogie Howser. Dr. Ken was his name. A fine young chap who had a lot of admiration for my OB. Dr. Ken checked out the fetal monitor report ("Yup, not one contraction!"), listened to my heart ("Boy, can I tell you are hungry- I could hear your stomach growl while listening to your chest!"), and used the fancy word for ankle swelling ("You have mild edema in both ankles and feet.) Der, Doogie. Get to the goods. Mommy wants to know how far she is dilated.

"I want to check your cervix, but I first need to get a nurse chaperone. I will be right back!"

I look to my husband with the "Huh?" face who then mouths the word, "Resident." Ah! Fresh out of school and hardly a cervix examined! Of course he needs a nurse to guide his hand!

Dr. Ken returns, a bit flustered to say that the nurse is not available. "Uh, since your husband is here, and I, uh, need to check your cervix, do you give me permission to do so without a nurse present?"

"Dr. Ken, that is the last thing I have been waiting for- this cervical exam. I have no problem having no chaperone." Good lord, I'm not Amish!!

(My husband later said to me, "You know that nurse looked at Ken and said, "Babydoll, I'm working on my crossword here. You just go in and give Mrs. Bo her exam. Don't worry, her husband is there to kick your ass if you make a mistake. Go on, baby. You can do it!)

So Dr. Ken meticulously washes up, puts on gloves, and paints his fingers ever so carefully with lube. Don't want to get too messy! He then starts to conduct the exam and I can feel that this child, this pre-pubescent scamp, has performed this type of internal examination one other time in his 5 minute career. And I assume that exam was not on a live woman. I look at his face, which is flushed, and see that his eyes are closed and he is mouthing numbers to himself. And I kid you not, his hand is shaking. He apologized 3 times for the pressure. What pressure? I want to push a baby out of that space and I want to do it NOW!!! Do I need to reach around and show you how, Doogie? So, in order to make him feel a bit at ease (pardon the lube pun), I told him what happened at my doctor visit Monday:

"Oh, no worries! You know, Dr. A used a metal specula on me Monday, turned his back, and it started to fall out, but got kind of caught. My daughter was with us and said, "Uh, something just fell out of my mom!"

My husband laughed and said, "Yeah, Dr. A seemed pretty tired Monday!"

This did not put Dr. Ken at ease, rather, he turned a darker shade of red. Too bad he couldn't put both his right index finger and left into his ears and shout, "I can't hear you, I can't hear you!" His right hand was still making it's determination as to my dilation.

Doogie didn't have the best news for me. He looked at my chart asking again how many centimeters I was on Monday. "Dr. A says I was 1.5cm and 65% effaced." Doogie looked sad. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bo. You are still around 1cm, but the good news is that you are 80% effaced. I predict in a few more days, you'll be in full labor. Of course, anything can happen!! I'm on call all this week, so it's possible, I will see you again!"

Hooray! I just had a nineteen year old feel me as only few other men have felt me before and he may just get to do it again!!!

So, as you can see, I am back at home, sitting at my computer while my feet dangle increasing my *edema*.

Packing the bag....

2006-08-21T12:19:00.000-07:00

Today is Piper's due date!!! I'm feeling like she will make her debut tomorrow or Wednesday. My body can't handle the sharing for much longer than that.

We have become totally complacent here at Monkey Hill. We went to a couples shower this past Saturday for a friend who is due with their first 6 weeks after ours is due. They have their nursery finished already. I still have yet to wash the bedding and make the crib. Eh. The baby doesn't sleep in the crib the first few weeks, anyway. We did manage to pick up the co-sleeper for our bed the other day because, as you can see, the Moses basket has been taken over by the cats.

Well, Blogger is taking it's sweet old time trying to upoload a picture of my cats and by the time it is online, I will probably have the baby! So, no photo.

One thing that I have managed is personal maintenance: I got a pedicure and my brows are done. BECAUSE HAVING A CLEAN BROW LINE AND FRESHLY PAINTED TOENAILS SCREAM "IT"S TIME TO HAVE A BABY!!"

For my husband, the bag with the laptop and camera are ready for the wi-fi connection at the hospital.....

A trip to the ER and a new toy

2006-08-15T21:01:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was action packed at Monkey Hill! First, my husband decided to surprise me with something I had been asking for before I got pregnant, but ceased to ask for these past 7 months.

"Hmm...the only thing I can think of is that set of cookware I have been coveting. Oh, if you got me saucepans I am going to kill you."

"Keep guessing..."

"Prada handbag!!!"

"Nope, I have it here at work and am playing with it."

"Volvo S80!!"

"Now how can I play with that at work?"

"Ah, you are programming the key thingy?"

"Keep guessing."

Had enough? He got me this. Complete with lessons and lenses. Like I have time for lessons right now, but still!!

Last week he tore a muscle in his calf while doing sprints at tae kwon do. Just what a 39 week pregnant wife needs...a limping husband who has to ice and elevate his strain every hour or so. I gingerly intimated that furniture still needed to be moved, put together, and other finishing touches to the house that I cannot possibly do. (I am the master at delegating and deflecting.) Saturday as he was on the complete mend and excited about his honey-do list, he changed into his leisure clothes to find his calf swollen, his foot purple.

"My God!! You have a blood clot!" I exclaimed!

After phoning the local hospital's ask a nurse, she suggested that an ER visit would be a good thing. So, to rule out the fact that my husband could have a heart attack and die at any moment because of the pool of blood lodged in his foot, and because we just love emergency rooms, we jumped in the car and speeded to the hospital. Where I am pre-registered to deliver Piper.

I am glad to report that this ER visit was painless- only four other patients who apparently did not need to be seen before my husband as they were enjoying movies playing on the 42 inch plasma screen tv's. A quick and timely staff, and a doctor who decided there was no need for bloodwork (cha-ching) or any other sort of tests (again, $$) since my husband did not fall into any risk factors for having a blood clot, we were in and out in an hour flat. Apparently, the swelling and discoloration are typical of a torn muscle; 6 days for it to show up just meant that he has slow moving blood. Or something like that. I just can't wait for the bill!!

Yesterday upon my return from work, excited to see the work that was accomplished around the house- our daughter's room was moved and our spare bedroom was carpeted- I found the husband in the garage, freaking out, getting into his car.

"I'm glad you are here! You need to drive me to the eye doctor. He's ready to see me in 10 minutes!"

What is it now?!! 7 days from my due date and he has an eye infection His eye swollen, his sinuses on overload, and feeling all over not well, he looks like the living dead as he makes his way into the doctor's office, his wife waddling far behind. After some numbing eye drops and a trip to the pharmacy (where I relaxed in a massaging chair!) he is feeling much, much better. And I can't wait for *that* doctor bill!!

I was detailing my husband's ailments to a colleague when she suggested that I need to do something extra special for him. Yeah. Hi. I'M GIVING BIRTH TO HIS CHILD.

So, 6 days and counting and I am already 50% effaced and 1cm dilated!! Oh. Boy. I can't wait for that bill!!!!

It's a 9 year difference

2006-08-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

Ever since I started telling people about my pregnancy and how my daughters will have a 9 year age difference, a common reply is, "Oh, so you have a built in babysitter!" I don't know about you, but I would never trust a nine year old to babysit a baby. Now, maybe when my first born is *15* and my second is *6*, but right off the bat? No. And after hearing people suggest it enough, Darian has asked, in all truth, will she have to babysit at such a young age? I assured her that it is illegal for me to allow this.

My husband's family has experienced a wide span of ages between brothers and sisters. It is pretty common to hear how the oldest of one parent or grandparent helped raise the other kids in the family. And when they talk about having to do so, their voices express a slight undertone of resentment. (Not that they would ever admit to feeling that way! No!) Since the age gaps are so typical, it is assumed that Darian will feel that she, as most of the other women on that side have, were like a second mother. And they have told her this in so much as, "Oh, one day when you are grown up, you will feel like you have raised Piper!" I always come back and say that Darian's role in the family is to be a child and she is never to assume the role of a parent. Scott and I swore that we will NEVER do anything to make her feel like she has anything to do with parenting Piper. NEVER. That said, this morning at breakfast, Darian informed us that she will not be changing any poopy diapers. That's fine by us! We would much rather take that on than chase after the barking dog with the water bottle. Let her parent the dogs! Kids love that kind of stuff! How many movies have you seen where the 8-10 year old adopts or finds a puppy and has it trained to be the envy of all the dog owners in the neighborhood? I bet there isn't a warm and fuzzy movie about a 9 year old raising her sister. Can you think of one?

Today a colleague asked me why one would burden their kid with even mentioning the whole 'second mother' thing. I said I really don't know since I have been married to it for 13 years and it tends to fall on deaf ears. She, too, feels that, even though there is an older sibling in the house, it is not the child's obligation or burden to do any 'parenting' of the new babies or little ones. She then told me this anecdote about her children who are 5 years apart:

"My baby boy was crying and I was occupied for a second. I looked at my daughter who was 5 at the time and asked her to go in the baby's room and try to calm him down. She then put her hands on her hips and said, 'Excuse me, but I am not the mom here.' Well, that was my quick reality check!"

While I do expect my first born to show a bit more responsibility around the house- being proactive with the dogs and her laundry, preparing dinner for her weary parents, making 3am runs to the 24 hour Walgreens to get diapers, and mowing the lawn- I have absolutey no expectations for her with regard to the care, nuturing, and upbringing of our second.

Darian has graciously informed us that she will *play* with her sister. And that's about it.

Thanks, darlin'. You really do know how to listen to your mommy.

They're not coming to visit because of the new baby, it's all about the bed

2006-08-03T20:12:00.000-07:00

I should give you an update as to my pregnancy because, well, I think I have been neglecting in that arena. I hoped you guessed from the last post that I have laughed in the face of hemorrhoids, avoiding them entirely. I KNOW YOU NEEDED TO KNOW THAT.

As of this moment, I have 18 days until my due date. At my last doctor visit, which was this Tuesday, my blood pressure was beautifully low, my weight gain is in check (a total of 28 lbs so far), and Piper has a strong heartbeat. We had an ultrasound a couple weeks ago in which it was determined that she is slightly bigger gestationally than Darian, but she is still far from a nine or ten pounder. My guess is that I will carry her to full term (through August 21), delivering the evening of the 22nd, and she will come out weighing 8lbs 4oz. (Darian was due on June 21, she was born 45 minutes later on the 22nd and weighed in at 7lbs 7oz. I had toxemia during labor, an emergency c-section, and put on close to 80 pounds. My mother-in-law was dying- passed away 24 days after Darian was born, so needless to say that nine years ago, birthing a baby was a very stressful time for me. Not so this go round. Phew!)

So, with that bit if background, try to take a stab at the baby's due date and her weight. I'd be interested to know what you think.

Speaking of guesses, my girlfriend Laa-Laa threw me a lovely shower this past weekend in which one of the games was to guess Piper's due date. I can't wait to find out who the winner will be! I have a small group of incredibly generous friends who showered me with love, support, items from my registry, and super cute baby clothes. I really am blessed to have their circle surrounding me.

In addition to being showered by friends, my husband and I upgraded our bed to a king this past weekend and treated ourselves to a Tempurpedic. (No, we did not order it from TV! We actually tried it first at a mattress store, comparing it to the mattress we planned on purchasing.) All I can say is that it is Heavenly. The day it was delivered, I warned my boss that I may not make it into work the next day for wanting to revel in the unique feeling this mattress delivers. Though I still awake at 3am thanks to Piper using my bladder as a pillow, I have had the most restful sleep I think I have ever had. So now, our friends are wanting to visit us- not to see the new baby- but to lay on the bed!! Who can blame them?!!

The H word

2006-08-01T17:28:00.000-07:00

I receive an online newsletter that provides me with information about my pregnancy tips for coping, etc. I have to admit that I hardly pay attention. Until yesterday when this came through my inbox:

Week 37 Pregnancy Tip

Keeping Hemorrhoids Quiet

Hi J Bo,
Many women experience hemorrhoids during pregnancy, to their great discomfort. Here are some things you can do to manage the itching, bleeding and general pain:
~Gradually increase your intake of fiber-rich foods, such as whole wheat breads and cereals with bran, to avoid constipation which can cause hemorrhoids
~Don't strain during bowel movements
~Use moistened toilet paper or packaged wet wipes for meticulous cleaning
~Perform Kegel exercises daily to strengthen your pelvic floor and aid circulation in your pelvic area

I didn't realize hemorrhoids were loud.

Just because I have two brains in my body doesn't mean I can think

2006-07-30T08:26:00.000-07:00

The other night my husband and I were talking about people we thought were easy on the eyes. Only because, every time he talks about our accountant, I *always* mutter under my breath, "Oh, he is so easy on the eyes." In our 13 years together, my husband has never mentioned another person we know personally who he finds attractive.

"So, I will tell you, honey, that there is one woman in our neighborhood here who I find easy on the eyes."

"Really?!! Let me try to guess......OH, it's got to be...Ruth"

(Ruth is our nosey German neighbor who told me that she didn't realize that I was pregnant but thought I was 'just getting big.' She's also older than dirt.)

"Oh, you know it...that fine piece of German heiney walking her dog in front of our house everyday, looking in the windows."

"But Heiney is a dutch beer."

"Yeah, you're right. Nope, not her. Guess again."

"OK...it's got to be Mary. When she's outside in her housecoat smoking a cigarette."

"NO!"

"Margie?"

"The one who has a rocking chair sculpture in her yard? Nope!"

"Well, then it has to be Stephanie."

"Who?"

"Stephanie. From across the street? She is kind of young? You think her name is Michelle?"

"Oh. No."

"Well..."

"Honey, it's YOU, moron!! YOU are the one lady in the neighborhood I think is easy on the eyes!!!! WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE???"

duh.

Tell me why....

2006-07-26T17:16:00.000-07:00

...my husband installs an air conditioner and this morning the heating guy shows up to fill our oil tank?

Because when it was 94 degrees on Sunday, the oil company wanted to make sure we were prepared for the upcoming freeze!!

Oh. I know my friend....irony.

Enough with the irony, already!

2006-07-20T22:51:00.000-07:00

Not soon after I posted today's whine, Little Dog ran out the cat door to bark at the neighbors. When I made my way to the back porch to call him in, he came running toward me with something rolled up in his mouth.

It was a poopy diaper.

I kid you not.

That dog brought me a poop filled diaper.

And irony is defined how?!!

Running the gamut of emotions

2006-07-20T16:43:00.000-07:00

My husband tells me that I exhibit three emotions: Happy, Angry, and Tired. Angry and Tired have had to have me medicated for about half our marriage so that all of us at Monkey Hill can remain Happy. Generally, you could say that I am Happy. In fact, just yesterday a co-worker told me how 'chipper' I seemed despite the fact that I appear to be carrying quintuplets and that she was not nearly that nice when she was pregnant. I let her know that she was lucky she did not live with me. (And I'm good at 'checkin' it at the door' when I enter the workplace.)

This morning my husband bore witness to an emotion that he has only seen 2 other times in the past 13 years, and one my daughter has never, ever seen: uncontrollable/inconsolable Sadness. No, not the type of sadness that overtakes me when I watch The Sea Inside, but the Sadness that turns me into a blathering idiot, crying so hard that I actually throw up. Oh, sure, I cry. A Lot. But this morning's cry, and those two other times, felt like a speeding bullet had entered my chest, causing me to explode and never know if I could ever become whole again.

I lost it when I got up this morning at 4:55am (mind you, I am not sleeping well, at all, so you are probably surprised I haven't lost it sooner! Even my doctor told me he is not up that early) to find a puddle and package from Little Dog. Sure, this behavior, while it has gotten better, should not cause one to cry. But it was the moment I walked out of my room and was hit with the smell of dog poo that a wave of emotions hit me at the same time, causing the deep sobs. It was at that moment that I felt completely helpless, lost, and utterly alone. How, possibly, can I raise another daughter when I can't even get my dog to go outside to crap?

My husband woke up to clean up the mess and do his best to make me feel better. He's more of a doer than an empath, so he made sure I had water to drink and that I made it to the toilet to throw up. And then he climbed back into bed with me and listened to me cry for close to two hours. Poor Darian woke up wondering what was the matter, not sure why Mommy was crying so hard. "Mother Nature hit Mommy, telling her she needed to get her butt in gear since the baby is going to be here really, really, soon. That hurt Mommy, so she is crying," was how my husband explained my outburst to our first born. My daughter, who is an empath, had tears in her eyes and said, "I think you really need to lay down and have me cuddle you." And then I cried some more.

(Though we are technically 35 weeks 3 days, Piper measures gestationally 36 weeks 5 days, which means she could come about 8 days earlier than we thought- thwarting all my plans!!)

I thought I was getting better, when my husband, who obviously should have kept his thoughts to himself said outloud, "There's some chicken in the fridge that will need to get cooked tonight."

The sobbing resumed with the half hiccuping words escaping me, "I can't even handle the dog and you want me to cook some chicken tonight?"

"Honey, I am sorry. I will grill it; don't worry. I'm sorry I said anything about chicken."

I ended up falling asleep, completely spent from the loss of so many tears; dreamless sleep that caused me to wake just in time to say goodbye to Darian as she left for day camp. I ended up going into work for a half day.

I'm a lot better as of dinner time. No, I didn't cook any chicken; I will leave that for my husband. I had a productive afternoon at work and am now vegging out with my girl, the one Thursday where we do not have to go to Tae Kwon Do class.

And no dog left me a package to deal with upon my arrival home.

She certainly has her priorities straight

2006-07-19T17:04:00.000-07:00

"So, I was planning out my life and wanted to give you a list of all the things I will be doing after the baby is born."

"OK, Darian, tell me."

"Well, first, I am going to go to fourth grade. Then, I will finish elementary school and then go to middle school. Then I have to go high school. Not junior high, right?"

"You will go to middle school; not junior high."

"OK. Then after I graduate from high school I want to buy some properties. Then I will go to college. Then after college I will get married."

"OK."

"And then I will buy some more properties. And then I will have sex and have a baby."

I'm not ready to have a baby....yet

2006-07-09T08:48:00.000-07:00

Friday I went in for a routine OB check when my doctor nonchalantly said that I have a 'bit of protein' in my urine. My blood pressure was slightly higher than normal and there is some concern about my ever swollen ankles and hands, so, of course that means that I have preeclampsia. OK. Not really. But... I go back to the doctor on Thursday for another check and he said that if things look the same, or the protein levels have increased, then he will have to INDUCE ME.

"OH NO!, " I exclaimed! "Dr. A, I cannot have this baby before August 21. For one: my mother does not even arrive to help me until August 26. For two: taking the twelve weeks maternity leave during the week of August 12 has me back in the office the week of Thanksgiving. That's a holiday week; the perfect time to get back into the routine of work. And for three: I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD MY BABY SHOWER YET!!!"

Dr. A gave a comforting smile and asked, "Didn't having Darian teach you anything about having babies?"

"Yes! She came 45 minutes after her due date! I can have a baby when I want to!!!"

Trying not to laugh at his obviously mental patient, Dr. A gently said, "You believe what you want, and I will see you next week. Watch out for blurred vision and headaches."

Blurred vision and headaches?! Blurred vision and headaches?! My doctor just used the term 'induce' and he expects me to be wary of a headache? That word alone uttered to a 8.5 month pregnant woman is cause for a headache. Preeclampsia, or not!
So, naturally I have been having mild freakouts and one rager of a headache since Friday afternoon.

I came home and just stared in utter disbelief that my house will soon have a newborn living in it. Where? The crib is still disassembled in the garage; the moses basket is still in storage. Darian's two rooms have yet to be condensed and painted to make way for Piper. I have not one diaper, receiving blanket, or CAR SEAT to call my baby's. (However, I did win an auction on eBay last week- my first ever- and will be getting a brand new kate spade diaper bag in the mail this week, in addition to my petunia pickle bottom! I KNOW!! My priorities with having a new baby are SERIOUSLY OUT OF WACK!! Please do not rub it in. I'm a little tense at the moment. Thank you very much.)

My husband and my very good girlfriends have assured me that everything will be fine and not worry so much. I do realize that all the 'problems' can be solved with a quick trip to Babies R Us and Costco and that the home organization can be done in less than a weekend if my husband rallies one guy friend to work with him. ::::Sidebar: my husband said that because Darian's room is to be painted two colors that it cannot possibly be done in a weekend and I asked, "Have you not seen Trading Spaces? Like hell you can't get that room painted in a weekend." "Oh, yeah, they get a room painted in a weekend, but I bet a week later it looks like crap." UGH!!! Just humor me, husband!! Paint the frickin' room!!!

Dear internet, I have not asked you for much, but today I ask that you send Have Piper On Her Due Date Or Close Enough To It vibes my way. I know all of you out there know that babies come when they are ready, not when Mommy has the house ready, but, like I asked of my husband, HUMOR ME.

Baby II~ Electric Bugaloo

2006-07-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

Piper is one active baby girl and recently I have begun to feel her auditioning for 'So You Think You Can Dance?' in utero. Initially, I would feel little flutters near my hips and was convinced that she was practicing her JAZZ HANDS. Then a little heel to the ribs a la the cha cha. Other times, I would feel her head and knees press into my bladder, pelvis and general nether regions as if she was doing crunches to warm up. This move is extremely painful to the person who carries her everywhere and I have had to tell her many times to STOP IT ALREADY!!

In fact, I have just sent her a memo reminding her of the few simple rules of body sharing:

1. At no time are you to be working out. No crunches, push ups and
absolutely no pilates. There's hardly room for me to stretch anymore.
2. If you happen to find yourself doing a little jig, share with me the
song in your head. Someone just hit me with 'C'mon Eileen' and I think I am
going insane.
3. While break dancing is awfully cool, can you stop doing that snake thing?
I'm feeling woozy enough with this Seattle heat.
4. Save the tae kwon do kicking for your father!!!

By abiding by these small requests, can we merrily spend the next 7 weeks. Oh, my...did I just say 7 weeks? Your imminent birth is creepin' up on me, kid.

Lily's Pampering Salon and Party Boutique

2006-06-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

If you have a daughter who's a little posh, a little chic, loves to be pampered, and has a mom who is too lazy to throw a party, then Lily's Pampering Salon and Party Boutique on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill is the place to host her next birthday celebration.

Lily's is a place for the girly-girl in all of us. The polar opposite of Club Libby Lu (or Pimp My Kid, as I love to call it), Lily's is an elegant salon, decorated as though Pottery Barn Kids went a bit Rococo, complete with crystal chandeliers and overstuffed pillows. Licensed aestheticians cater to a young girls needs: services include everything from bang trims to pedicures to updos. And though Lily's target customer is aged 4-12, mom is welcome to get her bangs trimmed while her daughter's nails are polished the perfect shade of pink.

The best part about Lily's? The downstairs Party Boutique. Choosing from an array of themes (friendship, hippy chic, sleeping beauties, pretty in pink), your daughter and up to 11 of her friends receive a posh polish, an updo, complete a craft project, and dine on cupcakes served on china. The moment is then frozen in time with a group photo taken under an archway of ribbon and tulle (my daughter's favorite part of the party). Each guest goes home with a glassine bag filled with yummy sweets and themed based gift. (Sleeping Beauties get a hand sewn pillow case decorated with a fairy godmother.) Not only do two stylists host the party for you, Lily's provides the invitations and thank you cards. And the cupcakes and cleanup are all included in the party package cost, too!

Darian selected Sleeping Beauties as her theme so her guests were all referred to as 'Princess' and their craft was to make a magic wand. My daughter decided to kick me and the other moms out of the party room for her magical hour and a half, so I got to spend some time sitting outside just down the street at El Diablo Coffee enjoying tres leches cake. Upon our return, we did get to watch some of the present opening and I was glad to see that a gift list was kept by one of the party hosts. She even packed up all the presents, saving all gift bags and bows!

This was probably the easiest- not to mention cost effective- birthday party I have ever had to throw, and according to my daughter, one of the best she has ever had! I highly recommend Lily's to all my friends with daughters.

Overheard in the child's room

2006-06-25T10:45:00.000-07:00

"So, do you feel any different now that you are nine?"

"Not really. I am a little taller, though!"

"Yeah, and your parents let you get away with more stuff."

"Yeah, like I got an iPod for my birthday. But my mom says I can't have a laptop until I'm in my tens."

Nine years ago today...

2006-06-22T00:45:00.000-07:00

My body birthed a gorgeous little girl. A perfect seven pounds, seven ounces, 19 inches long, 10 fingered, 10 toed little girl.

I celebrate your birth with you today, my Darian. In nine years you have grown to become a self confident, imaginative, caring, funny, kind, and all around beautiful girl. I couldn't be prouder to be your mom.

Happy Birthday, my love.

I loves me some crab cakes

2006-06-18T11:54:00.000-07:00

Saturday night our family went to dinner at the Dahlia Lounge, a place we had never eaten before in the past. We should be smacked for not eating there sooner. For starters we had baked hearts of palm served over salmon and a wild morel ravioli. Oh, how the flavors melted in my mouth! I could never begin to become a food critic, so you will just have to take my word that these two appetizers really did whet my whistle for more delectable treats. I decided I wanted sea food, being that I have not had any since getting pregnant. I live in the Pacific Northwest....if I could start back up on the coffee, I could certainly indulge in salmon (It's the tail end of Copper River season), or a piece of halibut. But it was the crab cakes that piqued my interest.

In case you don't know, I grew up in Baltimore. My summer dinners consisted of steamed Maryland Blue Crabs, lunches of crab cakes, and later in the fall- crab bisque. I'd never known any other crab until I moved to Seattle when I was dismayed to taste the Dungeness crab. In Maryland, you get a bushel of steamed crabs, seasoned with Old Bay, of course, a pitcher of beer, and your evening is filled with pickin' some of the sweetest meat you could ever taste. Here, when you order Dungeness crab, you get one. One crab that is boiled and has absolutely no flavor. After that disappointment, I decided to order crab cakes, holding out for some flavor. I continue to be saddened with what I am served. Bland is about the best word I can use to describe past dinners. Prince said it best, writing 'Nothin' Compares 2 You', an homage to the Maryland Blue Crab. Betcha didn't know that little bit of trivia, did ya?

Prince never tasted Tom Douglas' creation that was on Dahlia's menu Saturday night: Lemon~scallion Dungeness crab cakes with sweet chili avocado, caramelized romaine,
tomatoes with basil and bÃ©arnaise. I did and I have to say it was the best tasting crab cake served up in the Pacific Northwest that I have ever tasted. Make that TWO crabcakes as that is how many were on my plate. The cakes were fluffy and thick~ ALL CRAB, not filler like most restaurants pass off. The crispy yet smooth coating, which I never asked, but tasted much like my favorite coating- panko, was buttery without tasting fat or heavy and complimented the crab meat well. The sweet chili avocado brought out the fresh taste of the crab while the carmelized romaine and tomatoes added that sweet kick. It was heaven served on china.

Oh, Dahlia Lounge...I WILL be back for dinner. Those crab cakes are calling my name again......

ps- Of course I never left the restaurant without having a slice of Tom's Famous Triple Coconut Cream Pie. My God, I thought I was in heaven with the crab cakes.....Oy, it was so good!!

It's cheese...that's the stuff that binds

2006-06-15T18:57:00.000-07:00

I was over at Kristine's reading about her upcoming nuptials and feeling all giddy that she is marrying her best friend.

Honey, if I haven't said it to you recently, I am so glad that I married you, my best friend. And I have to share with the blogisphere the story of the couple on the bus that will be us in 40 years.

Before I ever met and married Scott, I used to live outside of Seattle and commute to work by bus. On Saturdays, the bus changed routes to include the quaint little downtown of the city where I was living because who needs Express on a Saturday morning? I noticed that the passengers on the Saturday bus were predominately from the retirement village~ many older ladies dressed up for shopping, but more elderly couples who held each other's hands stepping onto the bus, the husbands always seating their wives before taking their own.

One morning, a couple boarded and happened to spot some friends. I was not too many rows behind them and couldn't help hear the conversation that the wife was having with her friend; the husband casually looking out the window.

"Oh, and can you believe all that they are doing over there? Cutting down all those beautiful trees?"

"I know, I can't believe it myself. But you know, with all those people moving out here.....I hate to see them cutting down all those trees."

The elderly husband looks toward his wife and asks quite seriously, "Cheese? Who cut the cheese?"

"Honey, it's trees. We are talking about cutting down trees."

She patted him gently, a smile of knowing on her face while he shrugged and went back to his gazing. She continued her conversation; cheese cutting being a topic I am sure she has had to correct her husband on many a time. It would not break her concentration conversing with her friend. And fortunately, no one on the bus was breaking wind.

I sat back in my seat and wondered if I would ever have that type of relationship~ to be insync with another for obviously decades, continuing to interact with each other as they were a silly young couple, a retired old comedy act.

When my boyfriend decided to propose to me, surprising not only me but his family on a Christmas Eve, he did not present me with a ring- the symbol that love has no end. He chose a coffee table sized book about cheese. That's right. Cheese. Cause cheese is the stuff that binds.

I fast forward to us after our sixtieth anniversary, both of us about 83 years old discussing our marriage with our grandchildren:

"And would you believe that Pop-Pop presented me with a book about cheese to propose?"

"Trees? I didn't give you a present of trees, damnit! I cut the cheese!"

And I pat him gently and smile and go back to my conversation.

Rest up!

2006-06-13T17:42:00.000-07:00

"OK, good....your cervix is still closed."

"Closed for renovations, eh doctor?!!" quips my husband.

"That's a good one! I haven't heard that one before!" my OB giggles. AND CONTINUES TO GIGGLE WHILE EXAMINING ME!!

"Hey, EXCUSE ME! While the doctor's HAND IS ON MY CERVIX, please REFRAIN from doing your STAND-UP ACT, OK?!!" I glare at my husband.

This is my life yesterday morning at approximately 11:45am. I started having contractions and went to the doctor for a check, even though I had seen him just 6 days prior. Don't worry, everything is fine, but I am to rest as much as possible. No more long walks and I am to keep my feet up as much as I can. The fetal fibronectin test showed I am not having pre-term labor, nor am I expected to go into labor in the next few weeks. Phew! Mom, no need to worry about changing your flight- at least not this month!

And my husband promises to be a labor partner and concerned dad at the next visit. The comedy can stay in the doctor's waiting room!

Seen, Heard, Said in the Kitchen

2006-06-08T20:25:00.000-07:00

"So, you forgot to get Darian's cereal when you were at the store."

"Yeah," I agreed, "I thought $4.19 for her raisin bran was too expensive considering Trader Joe's carries it for like $2.99."

"But you got 3 pints of Haagen Daz."

"I know! And I got a couple boxes of these great chocolate cookies to keep at my desk at work! They're from the Netherlands!"

"I'll bet they were about $4 a box?"

"Yup. About that much."

"So let me get this straight: you just spent twenty bucks on overpriced sweets, but you think $4.19 is too much to pay for organic cereal, so our child has to go without her favorite breakfast in the morning?"

"Honey- it's Haagen Daz and cookies. A pregnant gal has her priorities."

That's a Croc

2006-06-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things in the world is shoes. I adore shopping for shoes, wearing shoes, and looking at all the shoes in my closet. The shoes I love most to wear are slides that have a 2 to 3 inch heel but I also love a cute maryjane and a Puma sneaker. Since becoming pregnant, I have had to limit the pairs that I wear as swollen feet are hard to get into a size 7 leather slide. Recently, I flew to Denver and the only shoes I packed were heels which meant I had to go shoe shopping! There is no better bonding experience with your boss than discovering a Shoe Pavilion on crack as we could not locate my all time favorite, and hands down, the best shoe store. I came home from the trip with 2 new pair of shoes, having spent a total of 36 hours on Denver soil.

My daughter does not have the same taste in or love of shoes that I do and that is OK, but with the way her feet grow, she owns more pairs than I do. For some time, she has been asking for a pair of slip on clogs. Her home responsibilities include trash duty and litter pan which means she is running out to the garbage about thirty times a day. Generally, she slips on my Ecco clogs- yes, I do have a pair of clogs and I swear they are only worn on the grounds of Monkey Hill- but since my trip to Denver, she has chosen my New Balance slides. Every time that kid slips on my shoes, I fear her toppling down the stairs breaking her leg, or throwing out her back since her feet resemble a pair of skis and mine look like baseball cut rib-eyes. Her feet could drown in my shoes; fortunately they can hold their breath longer than David Blaine can. I need to get past my fear.

Darian's best friend in the world has a snazzy pair of bright green clogs and she has been coveting these shoes for quite some time. Her friend will tell us how comfortable they are, despite the fact that they look like they belong on the peds of a garden gnome, not on a skinny kid. And her parents and brother have pairs, too! A whole family of elfin shoe wearers! They remind me that quality and comfort don't necessarily translate to 'good looking' and I should know this having a pair of Ecco clogs in my wardrobe. Still, they are freakin' ugly shoes.

So last week I gave in after a visit to REI and bought her THESE in fuchsia. While I will not permit her to wear them to school- I know, I am so mean!- she has worn them out to martial arts class and had them on last night when I took her out to dinner. I hate to tell you this, but the waitress COMPLIMENTED her shoes! My home away from home is promoting them. And then as I catch up on blogs, I find this.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT THESE SHOES??

Big M little m

2006-05-27T12:47:00.000-07:00

Many mumbling mice
are making
midnight music
in the moonlight...

mighty nice

Maybe in your world, Dr. Seuss. But over here at Monkey Hill, they scare the beegees out of J Bo. (cue the Brother's Gibb 'He-he-EH')

Being that I own 3 cats who are indoor/outdoor, they tend to think that the grounds of Monkey Hill are their personal wildlife reserve, complete with game to toy with and prey upon as they fancy. The cats like to show off their skill and prowess by catching vermin then leaving them in most obvious places for their human's viewing pleasure. Their humans are then to praise the cats for keeping the property clean of disease infested city rodents and birds, hoping to find each kill mounted above the mantel, the place of glory. Alas, my cats have been heavy on the nip as I don't praise and I don't mount. Instead, I squeal like a little girl who's just experienced a titty twister by the most foulest of bullies on the playground then runs off to tell her teacher insisting that boy must be expelled.

Sometimes, the vermin my cats catch happen to remain alive once they cross the threshold. This is a little story about such catch.

The other morning, Darian was minding her business in the shower while Scott and I were putzing around in the basement. About 5 minutes into her shower, we heard the most blood curdling scream come out of our child's mouth. Before I could gain my balance to stand, my husband was in the bathroom, ready to avert crisis. Why was she screaming? Because as she was lathering shampoo through her locks, her eyes toward the ceiling, she spied a field mouse sitting upon the shower rod, peering down at her. Scott managed to corner the mouse, trapping it in a large candle votive that I had not yet known where to place in my house. (It is now referred to as the mouse catcher.) He rounded up the cats, taking them and the mouse outside to finish what they started. Outside.

Later that day, after spending hours away from home, we returned to an odorous stench permeating from Darian's room. No, it was not the smell of rotting rodent, instead, one of the dogs- most likely big dog judging from the size of what we found- had a nasty bout of diarrhea and chose Darian's hand made quilt- which she left on the floor!!- as his grassy patch of potty. (Oh, I will get to the dog momentarily; this one's about mice!) We used the opportunity of cleaning up the poo to reorganize Darian's room, getting it ready to move as the baby will be taking over her upstairs room. Darian was working at diligently decluttering while I was in the kitchen preparing a tasty meal when the squeal that Wes Craven needs in his next movie came out of her mouth. Our torti was back with the mouse and this time it's dead body was to be placed at the feet of the cat's human. An eight year old, unsuspecting human. Darian screams, I start screaming, we call Scott- (what can he do- he's at work!!) and then the mouse disappears!!! Our orange tabby decided to move the mouse!

All the while, Darian and I still have not stopped screaming and freaking out, yet I am managing to work on layering my lasagna. (Moms are master multi-taskers!) I happen to look to my left and there is my little dog, Ellie, shaking uncontrollably, tail between the legs, completely unresponsive to my sudden calm voice. I realize that to the dedicated Pomeranian, the screams of his master could only mean that she is being viciously attacked in the dwelling he guards. The split second of calm gone, I look to Darian with tears in my eyes, "My god, the dog is now having a stroke, or a heart attack!!"

But the lasagna...and the dead mouse in the house...and the freaking eight year old...and the need to remain calm else to scare myself into labor!! What do I tackle first? I kill 3 birds with one stone in that I pull Darian close to me, hug her, and pick up the dog and cradle him like a baby with intent of soothing his nerves. He is starting to respond to me and I then lay him down on the living room couch. I dig out some surgical gloves- because every mom has those on hand!- grab a roll of paper towels and a garbage bag, and head into Darian's room to find the mouse. While we had been in the kitchen, our tabby returned the mouse to Darian's room saving me from finding it inside of my shoes, or under my bed covers. He is a smart cat, by the way. I lay 500 paper towels over the mouse and in such a pattern as to only come in contact with 500 paper towels while using the garbage bag as disposing tongs and run it outside to the garbage. Washing my hands 32 times, then finishing my lasagna's cheese mixture, I end this saga with a gallon of cleaner on the floor of Darian's room to rid it of any mouse goo. Lasagne in the oven, timer set, house quiet, and all goodness in the world is now restored.

I rest momentarily on the couch with the dog and realize that all the windows in the house are open so my neighbors must think I really have gone off the deep end and dealt out some savage punishment to my child or pets. (They know how both can work my nerves and recently they have seen cops show up at our home. Just so y'all don't think that CPS or Canine Cops have been on my ass, our home's alarm system went faulty a few weeks ago and had been engaging while we were away. The hot cops at my porch were just courtesy patrol making sure we were all right!) Anyway, my mind just about cleared of the images and ickiness of the mouse, I called my neighbor to assure her that any screams she may have heard had nothing to do with abuse, but to do with a teensy dead mouse.

"J Bo, you mean to tell me that you can deal with all the crap from your little dog, like washing his bottom after he poos, and you can't dispose of a tiny mouse without freaking out?" she questions, as she is laughing uncontrollably. She made a gesture to help me in the future, but with the non stop laughter from her end of the phone, I know that if I call asking for help, she will show up at my door practically passed out from laughing so hard. That's what good neighbors are for: your personal laugh track.

So this past Tuesday, big dog shows us more of his love by turning our living room into a sea of diarrhea at 5am. He'd been relegated to the basement after my husband left for work, when I heard him suddenly crying. Thinking he was sick again, I waddle my way down the stairs to find him and the torti in the bathroom, noses toward the corner toilet. As I ask what is wrong- because you know my dog and my cat can answer me in English- A MOUSE SCURRIES FROM BEHIND THE TOILET AND THE CAT BEGINS THE CHASE.

I have never run up a flight of stairs as fast as I did that morning, slamming the basement door, and placing a towel along the foot of the door. CAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT MICE CANNOT CHEW THROUGH TOWELS.

I have not been presented with the corpse of any mice, yet, but I have my neighbor's number on speed dial and am prepared to be the butt of neighborhood jokes for years to come.

I'LL TAKE JOKES OVER DEAD MICE ANYDAY!!!

And All That Jazz

2006-05-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

Darian and I just returned from an afternoon at the Paramount, sitting down in front (I really lucked out on fabulous seats!), enjoying the musical Chicago. During intermission, Darian noted, "Uh, there aren't any kids here and, uh, I think I know why. This is kind of a *PG-13* musical, right? But, it's OK for me to be here since I am with you."

Yeah, so I dragged my kid to a musical that is about murder, corruption, and a little screwin' around. Forget about that! I'm in it for the choreography and the music! Jazz hands! Fosse! I can't deny my kid those things! My husband thought I was crazy- not for taking our 8 year old to a racy musical, but for going to see it. Again. This is the third time in the past 12 years seeing this musical live; it's one of my absolute favorites. I compared the experience of going to the theater like going to a concert, but he doesn't buy it~ bands play new songs. Well this time round with Chicago, the set design had changed (there was no 'Hollywood Squares' type set), Roxie Hart's character was a little more goofy than I recalled, and Mary Sunshine was not so campy. That's the beauty of a traveling production: a new cast and crew to mix it up and make it seem like you are seeing it for the first time. I've never been disappointed.

Darian is now walking around the house in the midst of chores singing, "He had it comin'....he had it comin'..."

In other news....I'm going to have a baby in 3 months!! 3 months!!! Eeek!!!

Seen, Heard, Said in the Living Room

2006-05-17T18:43:00.000-07:00

This morning, while moving the dog bed from underneath of the piano, big dog came up to my behind and goosed me with his wet nose. I jumped, squealing, "Dexter just sniffed up my dress!"

Darian looked at me blankly and stated, "He's just saying good morning to the baby."

Everybody was kung fu fighting

2006-05-06T11:07:00.000-07:00

The other day I was speaking with a colleague who recently had a baby. He said that the point where I am in my pregnancy, 24 weeks, was about the same time that his wife was completely stressed. Me, stressed? Oh, you have got to be kidding!! J Bo is a mellow girl who takes everything in stride and looks to the positive. (Stop laughing, Mom.) What could I possibly be stressed about? Could I be feeling any pressure at all while at work, knowing that my business is responsible for 24% of the company's total revenue? Nah! That one's easy- peasy! What about the fact that I am bringing another life form into this world in less than 4 months and I have done nothing with my home to make it baby ready? How do I prepare the dogs? What about arranging child care for when I return to work? Again, it'll be a cake walk. I can handle it. Um. Yeah.

Recently, I started taking Tae Kwon Do lessons and the kicking and punching was really helping keep the stress levels in check. For every roundhouse and axe kick I did, I was letting go of the anxiety that had mounted that day, or that week. For every punch and block, I was conquering the unknown of what the impending life change would do to me. I can win this battle. Tae Kwon Do is hard on a body, especially on one that was initially overweight and out of shape. Add in pregnancy and this equation adds up to equal agony and pain. I haven't been to class in the last eight days and my husband has now replaced the dojang's sparring pads. Pressure is mounting, I've begun to let off steam, venting my hot gasses onto my husband. This venting comes in the form of order barking and demands peppered into day to day conversations and hallway passings.

My husband is doing his best to deal. He, too, has been going to Tae Kwon Do and will actually be belt testing in the next week. In addition to this outlet, he bikes to work everyday, peddling away additional stress. He understands that my body is not able to take on the rigorous exercise that his can and thus he has been doing his best to be the husband on egg shells, not wanting to add any fuel to the fires burning inside of his wife, since I can't beat it out of the punching bag at class. (While I could beat on him and rack it up to 'sparring', we agreed that that we would never fight each other, unless it was for a gold medal, or a new iPod, or some other fabulous prize.)

Last night we were watching a movie when he decided to fix himself a sandwich. He returned to the tv room with what looked like 2 steak subs on his plate. Rather than wait for me to ask for a bite- which usually turns into him going back upstairs to fix me whatever snack he has decided to enjoy- he was a) proactive in making *2* sandwiches and b) asked me if I wanted a bite.

"You want a bite of my pastrami sandwich? In fact, I made two if you want one."

"What? What are you talking about? When have I EVER liked pastrami?" I reply with much hostility. I start to get mad. For one, we have never had pastrami in the house and for two, isn't that like some sort of pork product? He knows the only form of pork I consume is that of a chop, or a breakfast sausage. Does he not know me well? I then begin to raise my voice, "And what are you doing making PASTRAMI? When have you ever eaten PASTRAMI? When have *I* ever eaten PASTRAMI? WHEN? HUH?"

"Hey, I was just being nice in offering you a bite. And it was back in 1998 that you ate a pastrami sandwich. I happened to be at Costco the other day and this meat was an impulse buy. It really is good, if you want a bite."

"NO!! I DON'T EAT PASTRAMI!! AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE AT COSTCO AND THIS WAS AN IMPULSE BUY?!! YOU FORGOT THE PAPERTOWELS AND DIDN'T GET ME ONE THOSE CHEESECAKES I LOVE, BUT YOU BOUGHT PASTRAMI? PASTRAMI?"

"Look, why do you have to turn this into a fight? I told you before I was just being nice and you can't even acknowledge that? Have a bite of PASTRAMI!"

"NOOOOOOO!!! I WILL NOT EAT PASTRAMI!! AND IF YOU WERE BEING NICE, YOU WOULD HAVE BROUGHT DOWN SOMETHING THAT I LIKE TO EAT!! DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE."

We left the conversation there, went on with the movie, then I fell asleep on the couch and he went upstairs to bed. This morning, I was doing laundry when I realized that we were out of laundry soap. I had to shake and shake the liquid container to get out the last drops of soap, all the while yelling, "YOU WENT TO COSTCO FOR PASTRAMI AND FORGOT THE LAUNDRY SOAP, TOO????!!!!"

He tried to ignore me and then came downstairs to reason with me; he let me know he forgot the soap and *I* said I would pick some up from Target. But then I was all in his face with, "No, I told you that they didn't have our soap at Target the other day before I left for Denver and you were all, OK. Remember? REMEMBER?!!" I then open the dryer to find my clothes inside- some of which should never go in the dryer. "What are my clothes doing in the dryer? And these tops? They can't be dried! And on the highest cotton setting? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!"

My poor husband. He said he was just trying to be nice and take care of my laundry while I was away. And of course, me still riding my wave of stress, shout, "When have you ever done my laundry? And if you ever are to do it, you know, you KNOW to ask me what can be put in the dryer and what can't. Have we not done this for, OH, THE PAST 13 YEARS?!! YOU KNOW THERE ARE CERTAIN PIECES OF CLOTHING WHICH DO NOT GO IN THE DRYER...AND YOU KNOW THAT I DO NOT EAT PASTRAMI!!!!"

He left me in the laundry room of the basement with my anger, honestly, because he was trying not to laugh at me. I mean, c'mon. I was fighting about PASTRAMI and I tried to turn it into my deeper fear that the man I love has no clue what I want and what makes me happy. I eventually apologized later this morning- he made waffles, by the way- and he promised never, ever, ever to bring pastrami into our relationship.

And I need to get back to the dojang. Who knows what is going to set me off next!

Leavin' on a jet plane

2006-05-02T21:46:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning I am going on a business trip with my boss to Denver, CO. I have never been there before, but already, my ankles have swollen to the size of elephant trunks thinking about the flight east. Imagine what they will look like after I get off the plane. Ew. Don't. I won't be in a skirt as I dare not scare my customers.

See you all on Friday!

This is about as good as it gets

2006-04-29T14:57:00.000-07:00

My daughter and I are having chocolate day. Just because. We've downed the rest of her dark chocolate bunny left from Easter and shared a peanut butter egg. We are so in love right now, despite the Seattle rain. Rather than venture out to complete all the errands on my mental to do list (kid haircut, mom brow wax, odds and ends needed from Target, purchase of a friend's wedding gift) we are doing, yet again, a marathon of Harry Potter. During my first trimester when I thought I was extremely depressed/and or had the flu for an extended time since I had no clue I was pregnant, movie marathons were a staple on the weekends for Darian. And I could sleep through it all. But not today! I'm filled with happiness and delight from my chocolate high! Oh, and COFFEE!!! I tried coffee for the first time yesterday and found it to be MOST GLORIOUS!! How, oh how, could I deprive myself the 17 weeks I have left of this pregnancy? Needless to say, I had a small cup this morning and worked it off by Dysoning the pet hair from the hardwoods and furniture. Life couldn't be any better at the moment.

And what are YOU up to today?

Covering more ground faster than ever

2006-04-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

I just took Dexter out for a mini walk (read: run around the yard since the child is inside sick on this glorious sunny day in Seattle). Just as I was walking down the back stairs, I felt my arm being pulled from the socket, the sound of Dexter's howls filling the quiet of the neighborhood. A UPS truck was rounding the corner, passing our house. Dexter was nuts with glee in an attempt to chase the big brown box down the road, something I had never seen him do.

I then realized that to the golden retriever, the UPS truck is just one giant squirrel.

This is what makes it all worthwhile

2006-04-24T19:47:00.000-07:00

"I have to tell you that I am so excited to become a big sister! And I'm not even jealous...yet!! You know why I am so excited? Because you are the best mommy in the world. You're such a great mommy because you are so loving. And it's good that you are having another baby."

My daughter knows all the right things to say to make my cup runneth over with hearts and flowers. How lucky am I?

Sometimes, I just lose faith in humankind

2006-04-21T17:22:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, I'm that really optimistic person who truly thinks that people have good intentions. People want to do good things, be kind and helpful to others, and not be completely selfish. Don't they? Lately, I'm beginning to question my optimism.

The other day I was in a local Italian coffee shop for my weekly dose of chocolate gelato. It was a busy afternoon and the register closest to the door was closed and customers were requested to place their orders and pay toward the back of the cafe. I stood in a semi-formed line being the 5th one from the register. A person working there opened the front register to ease the line, and she decided to help the first person who walked in the door- not any of the people who had been in line. I questioned this, as did the person behind me and we were hushed by the cashier, "I'm helping these people. You will just have to wait."

"But that is what I have been doing!! Why are you helping people who just walked in the door?"

She ignored my question and then decided to help the man 2 people behind me. Both the person behind me and I said that, actually, the person in front of me was to be next, not this other man. That person? She didn't really care. So I laughed and said, "I'm pregnant. I'd just like my gelato fix." The man then said to me, "So what? My wife is pregnant, too," and turned to the cashier to order his coffee. The person who accompanied him told him she was embarrassed to be seen with him. But did she offer to let me order? Did the cashier say anything? DID I SAY ANYTHING? I let it go. Afterall, there are more important things to hope for in this world- like that guy burning himself on his coffee- and frankly, I was enjoying the time I was away from my desk.

My husband was in the U-Scan checkout line of the grocery store. At this particular store, as I am sure is protocol in others, one line forms and when a station opens, the next person in line makes their purchase. My husband and several others had been waiting when a woman who must not have seen the line (I'm about benefit of the doubt, too!) stepped up to the next open station. My husband was not next, but the man in front of him politely let her know that there was a line and he was next. She told him that if he wanted her spot, he could pay for her groceries. And she proceeded with her scanning and no one said a word to her, though many comments were muttered under breaths.

I get to the office rather early in the morning- a few minutes or so before 6am. In the neighborhood of my office, there are a handful of free parking spots. Yes! Free all day parking in Seattle! Yesterday I happened to watch a man get into his truck that was parked in one of those free spots. I pulled up next to him to ask if he was leaving so that I could have his spot. I rolled down my window and started waving, then honked. I knew he saw me, yet did not turn in my direction. Instead, he mouthed the words 'FUCK OFF'. He had no idea why I was pulled up next to him! He didn't even look at me!! I honked. And then I honked some more. After giving my bozo the clown squeaker of a horn 25 more pushes and him *still* not looking in my direction- though a passerby asked me how they could help me and I said, 'Well, I'm trying to get this guys' attention!'- I finally had it. I drove away being sure to wave goodbye with my middle finger. Someone in my office said they knew who that guy was and he just likes to sit in his truck. Being an ass.

I think you are getting the picture, but I will close with one final anecdote. In front of my office is a pedestrian crosswalk. In fact, it's a pedestrian friendly neighborhood as it plays host to several art galleries, not to mention the city's two sports stadiums. How anyone can speed with folks walking about is beyond me, but it happened not 4 days ago. I was in the middle of said cross walk when a car came speeding toward me. I started to scream, ''Stop! Stop!,' while holding out an arm, but the car kept coming. Had I not jumped back, I would have been hit, and I would not be here to blog about it. The driver of the car? HE GAVE ME THE FINGER!! I actually got a little emotional after that. I called my husband in near tears to rant about what had happened and how I am really starting to lose faith in humankind.

I'm not going off about political agendas or the state of the world as I see it. Those things madden the hell out of me. But to see such apathy and selfishness on a local, everyday level just baffles me. These are my neighbors: the people in my office building, the folks down the street shopping at the same store, the cafe I frequented daily before getting pregnant.

What's happening? Why can't people be accountable for their mistakes and oversights? Why do they have to be so rude?

The Dexter Bunny

2006-04-17T21:00:00.000-07:00

We're not big celebrators of Easter here at Monkey Hill. We generally refer to it as 'That Day We Get To Eat Chocolate In The Morning.' My daughter thinks the Easter Bunny is a guy in a suit who chain smokes and passes out candy. "Here, " he says in the voice of Marge Simpson, "take your candy." Or at least, that is what we have told her. Now, Santa, oh don't even get me started. My kid is a *huge* fan of Santa. (Even though I'm not!) As she likes to say: there are no such things as bunnies who give out chocolate. But Santa, that's a guy who is real. And his flying reindeer? That's what's called *magic*. The kid's got a point, why beg to differ?

What we do glean from Easter is the springtime happiness and wishing to spend time with family- which we did. The weather was wacky and fabulous in Seattle; we had a lovely brunch at my husband's sister's house. Late afternoon was Mommy and Me time and we decided to spend it walking the dogs and shopping, but to our dismay TARGET WAS CLOSED.

So we had more fun with the dogs.

Hope your weekend was as wonderful as ours!

Welcome to the world, Liam!!

2006-04-15T09:14:00.000-07:00

Lora had her baby!! Please stop by to wish her well and a happy birthday to her new bundle of love.

He has good taste in sweaters

2006-04-12T18:31:00.000-07:00

My golden retriever, Dexter, is a fabric lover and shows us that love by chewing crater sized holes in various things he finds in the house. And not just anything he can find- he is very specific that it has to be quality items. First it started with the tassels on my fancy fainting couch pillow. Then it moved to my husband's Calvin Klein boxer briefs. So far, he has chewed through six pair. It got to the point one week where my husband had to do laundry 3 times just to have clean, non holey underpants. (Yes- my husband does his own laundry!!) Fortunately, he has replenished his underpants supply and guards his laundry basket tighter than Ft. Knox.

At first, I thought this was a passing fad. Once Dexter got a taste of the bathroom rug and the foul rubber backing, throwing it back into the bathroom as to infer that it needed to be cleaned, I'd hope that was the last of it. Until he discovered my laundry basket. He selected key items- some of my favorite and most expensive lingerie. Oh, no, not my Victoria's Secret bras, but the Wacoal! I don't work at Nordstrom anymore; those bras are expensive to replace! I then got a clue from my husband and ensured that my laundry was well guarded. I've come home many times in the past few weeks to simply find Darian's socks and her funderoos on the dog bed. Dexter had enough of the finer fabrics our wardrobe had to offer. He discovered easily replaceable, and cheap, things to chew. Or so I thought.

For years I had been asking for one those really super comfy, hand knitted Irish fisherman type sweaters. You know, the ones that are so warm, not very fashionable, but incredibly warm and cozy? They are not something you really find while out doing your new school clothes shopping, and frankly, I had only seen them in specialty shops in little tourist towns. Not going to buy a heavy lambswool sweater while on a summer trip. So, I just kept it in the back of my mind until a few years ago when a friend went to Ireland and brought me back a sweater! The very sweater I had been wishing for over the years. I called it my 'twenty pound sweater.' As soon as you took it off, you dropped 20 lbs, or at least looked like you did. That sweater kept me warm many a winter and even grew a little with me during this pregnancy. Until last night.

My husband was coming into the bedroom to kiss me good night, and while walking through the living room to turn down the lights, he noticed something on the dog bed. He picked it up and brought it to me. It was my twenty pound sweater. I gasped as my husband slowly unbundled it to reveal a hole in the back the size of my ass. My hand knitted, carried overseas from Ireland, special twenty pound sweater. Now, nothing more than a worthless ball of wool.

Needless to say, Dexter slept in his kennel all night long as punishment and this morning tried his best to steer clear of me. I'm now trying to figure out how to get the $300 out of him to replace the sweater he ate.

Dogs! At least Ellie, my other boy, likes to chew bones.

Stuff Portrait Friday on a Saturday

2006-04-08T16:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Stuff Portrait Friday at Kristine's. The topic for yesterday was
Take me off AUTO.
1. Macro: take a picture of something ‘close up’. Don’t use your zoom, make sure you have good lighting and make sure you’re steady. If you have to, set your camera down on something and then take the picture.

2. NO FLASH: try swiching the flash off and taking pictures of your stuff without it. It may take a lot of pictures to get the right shot, but open the windows and find artifical light to get it to work.

3. Perspective: get up high or down low…either way, change the perspective of your picture..tilt the camera sideways. Change the layout of the picture. Instead of having the subject framed perfectly in the middle of the picture…move it to the left or the right.

This first one is Perspective. I got down on the floor, under a chair to get this one of my pom, Ellie.

This one is No Flash. My husband says our daughter looks sad and impoverished, but really she is just waiting to turn back around to watch the Disney channel. So, yeah, I guess she is a bit sad!

This last one is Macro. It's my butter dish.

Did you play?

You miss my dogs, don't you?

2006-04-04T19:04:00.000-07:00

Rather than complain about them, sit back and watch a whole minute and a twenty-three seconds of my dogs. (The filming is horrible, cause of my lame camera, so that really does add insult to injury.) This scene is literally repeated 50 times a day while I am home. And people ask me why I am bringing a baby into the mix. Because I love to be tortured!!!

Here's what happened exactly 40 seconds later:

The Naming of the Child

2006-03-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

Before we found out the sex of the baby, we had decided on names: Levi Piper for a boy and Lydia Piper for a girl. Keeping in the tradition of my husband's side of the family, the baby would be referred to by it's middle name. (My husband, our daughter, and her aunt all go by their middle names.) In telling friends, I got a lot of flack for wanting to call my son Piper: "Ya know, he's going to get beat up on the playground with a name like that." They are glad to know that Piper will actually be a girl.

Tonight my husband was on the phone with his fraternal grandmother, a woman who resides in Texas, has a very heavy southern accent, and is hard of hearing. This is a portion of their conversation:

"Grandma, we are calling the baby *Piper*."

"Pay-per?"

"No, PIPER."

"Pay-per?"

"PIPER!!!"

"Pay-per?"

"NO, Grandma! It's Piper! PIPER. Like your pipe, but with an er? PIPER"

"Oh....Paahh-per!"

Good lord....It was like that scene in 16 Candles..."Mallied?" "Mallied!"

And the winner is....

2006-03-30T17:42:00.000-08:00

ME!

I get the Coach handbag as we are pregnant with a GIRL!!!

Of course, my husband does not really recall making a bet with me and commented that I won't be carrying a nice handbag for a few years; I need to sport a diaper bag. I'll get the Coach bag out of him. In the meantime, he offered to buy me this.

Now that I know we are definitely birthing a female, I am motivated to start shopping. We have NOTHING for a baby in this house. Well, there are those ball gowns, but they are not so practical.

I guess you want to know about the baby!

2006-03-24T19:13:00.000-08:00

I feel like a horrible mom, not talking about my pregnancy, but honestly, there hasn't been much going on. Well, except the recent ultrasound where we were to learn about the sex of the baby!! (Please note the past tense version of 'are'.)

This past Tuesday, I had a second trimester diagnostic ultrasound scheduled. Upon meeting with Dawn, the ultrasound technologist at my OB's office (the one who was at the helm of the uncomfortable dildo ultrasound), she told me that her calculations had me at 17 weeks 5 days while the OB has me at 18 weeks 1 day which puts me on the cusp of having a readable diagnostic scan. What does this mean? It means that we may not be able to get proper readings on measurements, not to mention the crucial viewing of the private parts. So, my belly gelled up, we got a look at little one and immediately Dawn said, "I can already hear the radiologist, 'I can't see the four chambers of the heart, I can't see the lungs...' So you know what that means? We can't go on with this scan. Unless of course you have insurance that will pay for as many ultrasounds as you want."

I sighed.

My husband interjected, "Uh, I can see testicles."

Dawn glared at him. "No you can't. Trust me. You will have to wait another 5 days or so we can get an accurate reading."

It amazes me that just under a week can be so crucial in the growth and development and I have to trust the healthcare professionals who care for me aren't feeding me a line. So, I go to make an appointment for Monday when my husband and I start to have a conflict of scheduling and end up agreeing on Thursday.

Next Thursday!!

6 days to find out the sex. Oh. And to make sure that the heart is doing what it is supposed to be doing and that limbs are growing and toes aren't webbed, but really, all we care about is: Is it a boy or a girl?!!

It's the only argument we have: my husband really wants a son, because, well, he played football and went to a military academy and wants to share those experiences with someone who won't roll their eyes or say, 'Can we just play dolls now?'. My mom wants a boy because she only has granddaughters and wants a grandson. Though she did note while looking through Darian's closet that it is a shame all the lovely ball gowns (she gets a new one-sometimes two! every year for the theater) would never be worn again. Unless we had a girl. I want a girl because I am so in love with Darian and love raising a daughter that I actually think I am good at it. (Sidenote: Darian has told me that she thinks I am the best mom ever. I am getting that in writing to show her when she is a teenager.) Of course, whatever the baby turns out to be, I am going to love it unconditionally and be satisfied enough with my gene pool and parenting skills that whomever I give birth to will not turn out to be the spawn of Satan. One can only hope.

So, I have been banking on GIRL while my husband is rooting for BOY. We even have a bet: if I'm right, he buys me a new Coach handbag and if he is right, I search for an Xbox 360. So, tune in next Thursday to see who wins!
(Mom, I will be sure to call you first!!)

It must be something in the megapixels

2006-03-24T16:11:00.000-08:00

I was just visiting one of my favorite blog buddies who happened to share with the rest of the internet her big secret. Go over here to find out what it is. Hee Hee!

Chess Tournament

2006-03-19T11:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my daughter competed in her first ever chess tournament. What made this a cool experience was that it was an all girls tournament. (Thanks again, Tracey!!) Darian competed with girls from as far away as Portland, we had an hour's drive from our home to Olympia. She played five rounds in six hours and though she was exhausted by the end, she was able to keep on her game face.

The child kept her cool for so long, we are thinking of teaching her Texas Hold'em so she can win us some cash at poker tournaments.

And how was YOUR weekend?

Limerick Friday

2006-03-19T10:47:00.000-08:00

This past Friday was St. Patrick's Day and while I really have no reason at all to partake in the beer drinking and corned beef eating, I did make the day fun by only communicating with my co-worker in limerick form. I thought you might enjoy reading what we had to say to each other. (His limerick's are in italics.)

There once was a person named Matty
Who celebrated the day about St. Patty.
He wore his color green
Drank beer, made a scene
The next day he thought he'd gone batty.

there were quite a few email about form and creative license

Stymied for rhymes, he sits and he waits
Making his coworker think he's great
At writing some pros
Really- causing woes!
C'mon, it's not hard, take the bait!

Here's my first shot at this game
I was worried about being lame
What if I'd choke?
You'd think me a bloke!
Though that may be the case all the same...

I think you're a bloke, yes, it's true
But I hope that not makes you feel blue
You're a great friend, indeed
Always there for my need
Will you help me to lace up my shoe?

Schein's driving me straight up the wall-
So high that I fear when I fall,
I'll land with a splat
The true end to that
Unable to get up and crawl.

Is that why you incessantly tap
Your hands on your desk, sometimes Whap!
Crazy it makes me
Too much noise, what it be
The virtual shelf just fell in his lap.

Here is a new e-mail thread that had to do with a web application used in our office

The OOR is a tool that you rock
No one should ever think to knock
You out of your place
They'll get a pie in the face
Your coworkers, you continue to shock!

Thanks for your thoughtful support
I'm glad we have great report.
Able to dish
Occasionally wish
That certain folk weren't in this sport.

You have a certain way with the word
Sometimes makes me feel like a turd
But them I'm not KR
Or the Cos, what a cur
They speak like a mimicking bird.

Ha-rah! You used "turd" in you limerick!
Poop references don't make me sick.
Duker and shat
what's up with that?
I'll play this way it's my schtick.

There's a word that's called 'pronoun'
Which when used incorrectly, I frown
It is 'your', not you
Grammatical check, et tu?
Without it, boy, you are going Down.

What's that about houses of glass?
Throw stones and it may all colapse!
An example for you,
Will shortly come through.
We're still at the head of the class!

By the skin of your teeth you will pass
This test on limericks, it's a gas!
I don't know much about cliches
The only rhyming word is mayonnaise
But that glass you profess is your ass.

You can tell we had entirely too much free time on our hands this day. We even started talking to each other in the limerick, annoying the heck out of the people around us. I love my job!!!

The Tao of Darian

2006-03-14T10:20:00.000-08:00

Tao Pronunciation Key (dou, tou)
n.

1. In Taoism, the basic, eternal principle of the universe that transcends reality and is the source of being, non-being, and change.
2. In Confucianism, the right manner of human activity and virtuous conduct seen as stemming from universal criteria and ideals governing right, wrong, and other categories of existence.

The other day my eight year old daughter was talking about popularity. It's a subject that really bothers her as there are several girls at her school who she says, 'think they are all that.' My daughter can't stand these girls. She has had an off again/ on again relationship with one little girl for the past 4 years. A lot of the reasons why they are 'off' have to do with what other people think of them. My daughter could care less.

"You know, Meghan and I aren't really friends anymore. You want to know why? She really gets on my nerves with talking about how popular she is because she is friends with Darla. Well, I'm friends with Darla, too, and it's cause we both like to play games and use our imaginations. I told Meghan, You know what? This isn't a popularity contest; it's elementary school!"

I think to myself that I am raising someone with strong core values and positive self esteem and I can't help but smile with pride.

She then says, "You know what, Mommy? I don't believe in popularity."

"Well, what do you believe in?" I ask.

"I believe in the bright side."

Wow. I'm left speechless and awed.

The Sea Inside

2006-02-28T16:12:00.000-08:00

Recently, I was roped into signing up for Blockbuster Online. Actually, I was seduced by one of those pop ups that say 'Free Prada Handbag- and Matching Wallet!' Well, here I sit with no handbag instead I have 3 paper sleeves with movies that I am not sure why I selected. Yup, call me a sucker.

Today I am home sick with a very nasty ear ache. My head is throbbing, echoing (my husband thought that I could not hear him say that the echoing is due to a lack of matter inside the cranium- haha!), and all I want is to lay in front of the boob tube and eat soup. Sick days are the perfect time to catch up on movie watching and I decided I might as well take advantage of my $19.97 monthly fee and watch these movies that have been sitting here in the family room for the past 4 weeks. ( You get to keep the movies as long as you want!) What is most disconcerting about joining this service is the little paper packets the movies are delivered in: they are easy to lose among the recycling *and* they provide no indication whatsoever what the movie you chose is actually about.

I popped in the first film, having no clue what I was in for, and immediately started to get sleepy. (Another reason I don't rent movies- I fall asleep through every one. Every. One.) The opening to the movie, The Sea Inside, is a calming beach scene with narration in monotone Spanish. I was out almost immediately. I awoke sometime later hearing the Puccini aria 'Nessun Dorma'. Being a novice fan of opera, I am familiar with Turandot and this particular aria and I tell ya, everytime I hear it, I cry like a baby.

My husband came home with my soup to find me sobbing uncontrollably, questioning if my earache was really *that bad*. "I know what the movie is about, " I managed to say between heavy sniffs and heaving. "It's about people. /sob/ People. /sob/ With degenerative diseases." The tears came over me again like a flood in the south. "And the right to die with dignity, " I shouted, hot tears covering my face and streaming onto the floor.

"Oh, honey, " my husband tries to comfort me.

"And to top it all off.../sob/ /hiccup/ /sob/...it's *all* in Spanish and I'm too sleepy to read all the subtitles!"

"Oh, honey...that is just the worst. I am sorry you are having a bad day."

I'm mailing back that film tomorrow.

The code words on my blog and what they mean to the ones dearest to my heart

2006-02-25T16:29:00.000-08:00

The other night I was out to dinner with my very dear friend Carrie and we got to talking about my blog. (Carrie is not a person who is online very often, but when she is, I can always count on her to be one of my faithful readers. One of the many reasons why I loves her so much!) She asked me about some internet lingo that she noticed in a recent post. Now, I am not very blog savvy- you can tell by the way my blog looks- so I asked what could I have possibly written that was some sort of internet only lingo that she may not get. She said, "You were writing something and then you threw in the letters M, O, and M. What does MOM mean? Is that like LOL?"

I told her I was sorry for chuckling, but MOM simply meant that: Mom. My mother says that she only knows about my life from reading my blog, so all I was doing was aknowledging my mommy since she, too, is another one of my faithful readers. And since it was in ALL CAPS, I was giving her a little shout out, too.

So this one goes out to you, MOM, in hopes that you did get that I was directing my post to you, knowing that you would be up on what your daughter in Seattle is doing with her life. Thanks for the call to congratulate me on yet another new toilet!

And I loves you, too!

It was that simple!

2006-02-15T18:04:00.000-08:00

I don't have anything funny to say, just wanted to update you all- MOM- on our quest for investment property. After searching since November and making 8 offers, we finally got a bite. It had been on the market exactly one hour and thirty five minutes. I kid you not. We were the first offer, accepted, inspection was perfect, and our financing is going through no prob. We put an ad for rent in the local paper as well as on Craig's List and will be signing a lease with a tenant next week! (A most perfect renter, I must say, with an impeccable background and references!) The time it took from offer to finding renter? 17 days!! We don't even close on the house until February 28th!!

I had no idea this was so easy-peasy.

What would Valentine's Day be without Terry Love?

2006-02-13T20:15:00.000-08:00

It seemed like only yesterday that we were installing the new toilet here at Monkey Hill and I was impressed with the services offered up by the Northwest's Premier Plumber, Terry Love. Yesterday our upstairs toilet (the main one) went belly up. The wax seal lost it, the gasket busted, and we had a nice drizzle into our basement. Fortunately, this bust had nothing to do with my constant bowel problem, rather, an underlying issue with the toilet itself. It was bound to happen. (!)

We could have simply replaced the rings and such that are part of the underbelly of the toilet, but we knew when we bought the house 2.5 years ago that this toilet needed to go. It was many, many decades old and hardly efficient. The toilet had to be pulled out anyway for this fix, why not buy a better one? So we called on our good friend Terry Love. This afternoon I had the pleasure of leaving work early to talk with Terry Love and visit his vast distribution center (read: his website and house). My husband and I ventured across town to pick up our Toto Drake (we decided to mix it up a bit and not go for another Ultramax. They are virtually the same toilet, though for some reason the Ultramax costs about $200 more!)

Some girls get diamonds, others get flowers and chocolates for Valentine's Day. Some get all three. Me, I got a commercial grade toilet. Now, if that ain't love, I don't know what is.

Who says you shouldn't have instant puddin'?

2006-02-05T08:24:00.000-08:00

Before I knew I was pregnant, I had been craving chocolate pudding. Maybe it's because my friend and I have this acquaintance we call 'Cosby' and I think of Jell-O Pudding every time that name is mentioned. (And how I would be Fat Albert if I lived on nothing but pudding.)

Six weeks have past, thinking often of chocolate pudding, and I finally gave into my cravings. I purchased some wonderfully decadent Bavarian Chocolate Pudding from Trader Joe's. Oh. My. The smooth, creamy, chocolate goodness. How could I have just one spoonful? I didn't just 'give in' to a chocolate craving; I dove head first into Willy Wonka's Chocolate River without consideration to come up for air. I consumed the entire container, save for few bites given unwillingly to my daughter.

This treat should not have been eaten right before bedtime. While I certainly felt euphoric, loving everyone and everything, not minding the dogs barking and the non stop Seattle rain, my heart would not stop racing. I realized at that moment that I had not just finished off a bowl of chocolately goodness, rather, I'd just consumed a big bowl of crack. How would I ever be fresh enough in the morning for another grueling day in the office? What have I done to my unborn child??!!!!

That night I had probably the worst night's sleep since discovering ear plugs to protect my hearing from the Darth Vader like snores of my husband. I tossed, I turned, I arose several times to chew on Tums. I cried in agony, "How does one come down from a pudding high? I Don't Know!!!!" I must have blacked out from all the Tums cause the next thing I knew, it was the next morning and I was on the front lawn encouraging my little dog to go pee-pee. I returned to the house, the bathroom being the first room requesting my visit. I looked in the mirror and was dismayed at what I saw.

My face was not only bloated, but I had two (not one, but *two*) ginormous zits glowing with pink fluorescence on my cheek and forehead. They seemed to be mocking me, "Nyah, nyah! See what happens when you eat pudding before bed, suckah?" I cried and drowned my sorrows in my exfoliating facial scrub and overpriced moisturizer guaranteed to take away the wrinkles while providing me with powerful anti-oxidants- and an SPF!

My vanity had gotten the best of me.

Yay, though I will pass through the aisles of Trader Joe's fantasizing about the creaminess and satisfaction that chocolate pudding provides, I know in truth that I would turn into a zit ridden insomniac, incapable of nothing more than crashing from a sugar high, and purchasing expensive cosmeceuticals.

I just don't get it

2006-02-02T19:35:00.000-08:00

My office is right next to Seahawks Stadium. From our conference room, I can watch the scoreboard, if I were so inclined. I have to park my car in a lot that is just south of the stadium, next to the Events Center, so in order to get back and forth to my car, I walk by the entrance and ticket booths to the stadium. Twice, sometimes 4, times a day.

Since returning last week, parking has just been nuts. People are scattered all about holding signs; a news crew is a permanent fixture in the parking lot. I wondered, 'What the hell happened here?' Each afternoon this past week, someone has approached me to ask, "Do you have any tickets?" In my mad rush to get to my car through the puddles and ever present rainshowers, I hardly stopped to answer. Instead, I would think, "Am I the only one who sees a ticket booth over there?" The other day I finally answered someone's question as I was making my way to my car. I answered the question with a question.

"Tickets to what?"

My husband filled me in: the Superbowl! He also said that he was surprised no one at the stadium harassed me for not knowing what the heck was going on. Well, lucky me!

How am I supposed to know anything about the Superbowl? I'm not a football fan, know nothing about football, and don't believe I have ever watched a Superbowl on TV. Wait a minute. I do recall when I was a teenager seeing a commercial for Budweiser that had a bunch of frogs croaking. So apparently, at one time in my life, I did turn on the TV to view the most watched sporting event in the history of the world.

My office has some kind of pool going on. It involves putting your name in a square on a grid (for the low cost of $5!) and during each half of the game- or quarter- whatever- the game's score is used as coordinates on the grid and who's ever name is in the square wins cash. I am the only person in my office not participating. The only one. Betting goes against my personal philosophy for earning passive income- Lady Luck need not be bought!

This Sunday my husband and daughter will be here, their favorite weekend spot during ski season. Though my husband is a football fan- his dad played college ball, ya know, and with an entire family from Texas, well, you can be disowned for not keeping up on the stats- skiing is just more important. Someone in my office today couldn't believe that.

What I can't believe is how crazy people around here are about football! I mean, 2 months ago I know for a fact that all the crazy people in my office building were not talking about the winning streak the Seahawks were on. Now they are sharing Superbowl Sunday 'Little Smokies' appetizer recipes, frequenting the pro shop for gear, and talking about the betting pool. Don't you people have work to do?

Sunday, I will be getting a brow wax and my nails done, then having an early dinner with one of my best girlfriends in the world. Sorry if you don't get that, internet, just as I don't get the fascination over a football game.

Kids say the darndest things

2006-01-29T19:16:00.000-08:00

When we were on the plane to California, my daughter sat next to a nice man who looked exactly like Ray Liotta. When the plane landed, she decided to talk to him about travel.

"My mom and I are going to Disneyland!"

"Wow, I want to go to Disneyland, too. I'm just here for a conference."

"I've been to Disneyland before; this is my second time."

"Wow! You are one lucky girl! I wish my parents took me to Disneyland. I wish I could go to Disneyland this week."

"Well, we are meeting my Daddy later tonight. You know what? My mom is having a baby and you know what? In November we are going to London and the baby gets to go to London!"

"Wow, you really *are* lucky!! You get to go to Disneyland *and* London in the same year! I wish I could go to London. I've been there once and I would love to go again."

"Uh, I have to tell you something. My mom is NOT divorced if you were thinking..."

At that moment both the man and I turn red and burst out laughing. He then said, "Oh, well, I am glad you told me that...I really didn't want to go along."

The lady in the seat in front of me turned around to say, "I really am enjoying listening to this conversation."

My daughter then said, "I don't know why I say things to embarrass myself! I am just a bit too dramatic!"

Fragilay...it must be Italian

2006-01-29T19:13:00.000-08:00

I was just reading some other blogs when my husband sat down next to me.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, just this blog."

"Doo-chay? What is this Italian blog about?"

"Honey, it's pronounced 'Deuce'. And it takes place in Utah."

The Happiest Place on Earth

2006-01-29T17:55:00.000-08:00

Oh, joy....it would have to be right here at Monkey Hill with the incessant rain and bark of the little dog.

This past week our family returned from 4 fun filled days in the Magic Kingdom. I have been recovering, thus the lack of immediate update. (If you have ever been to Disneyland, you know that it is not a place one ventures to to relax.) I'm sure you all don't want to hear about every minute that was spent in Anaheim, so here are some of the highlights:

*Though I promised my husband I would not complain about how expensive it is when you are staying in the resort and going nowhere else, I must tell you how much I hated spending $2.79 on every bottle of water I purchased. I averaged 6 bottles, just for me, per day. The amount we spent on water alone was about the same as my monthly payment on my Honda Civic. My husband says I love to spend money, so, yeah, I was happy doling out my shekels for water. But really, I'm not complaining! You just can't nickel and dime your way through Disneyland.

*My daughter rode *every roller coaster* at both Disneyland and California Adventure at least twice. It was the California Screamin' roller coaster that she could only do once and right after she stepped off the ride, we had to go back to our hotel so she could nap. Don't worry, I did not join her on any; she rode with her daddy and her uncle.

*All the princesses remembered my daughter from her last visit to the Magic Kingdom 3 years ago! How utterly magical! Ariel told her she got even prettier and Cinderella was amazed by how much she had grown. What great memories Disney characters have!

*Peter Pan does not stop talking. He cornered our family in the courtyard gallery of the Disney Animation attraction at California Adventure and chatted endlessly about the 'Fantasmic' fireworks extravaganza that he stars in. I was nice and didn't let him know that I had already seen the show and the real star is actually Mickey Mouse.

*Being in the early stages of pregnancy I could not ride any of the fun rides, but I was at every exit to hear what a fantastic time my family had on each one. My nausea only creeped up on me at Splash Mountain when the person standing near my husband happened to be Paris Hilton and she turned to me when I asked my daughter how she liked the ride. No, Paris, I was not talking to you. What was even more sickening were all the people who realized she was in the park and had their cameraphones ready.

*We could not escape Goofy. That dog was everywhere. From dinner, to our hotel, to wandering the park, I wondered if he was part of our entourage!

I am sure you can tell from my lackluster expressions that I am still tired from it all, but all in all, our trip was exciting, magical, and overwhelming. And of course, we are planning for our next trip to the Happiest Place on Earth!

I'm not kidding, really. I'm not.

2006-01-19T20:21:00.000-08:00

I don't think most of you believe that I really am pregnant. I mean, hardly any of you have even *commented* and I know there were 41 one of you who read the original post just after it was published 12 days ago. And then bundles of tens throughout the week. I know you are a small group, my readers, but I know you are loyal. Right?

Today I had my first ultrasound. It was the horrible *vaginal* ultrasound, or as quite a few of my girlfriends like to say, 'the dildo' ultrasound. I went through it with MY MOM, DAUGHTER, AND HUSBAND all sitting next to me- yes, my daughter heard me use the term 'dildo ultrasound' and my mom saw me use a dildo- and we all got teary eyed when the technician focused on little baby and turned on the sound to hear the heart beating. 182 beats per minute. Very strong and all of 2.5mm long. Baby is due on or around August 23.

So there, it's real. And I am celebrating by going to Disneyland tomorrow and puking in Sleeping Beauty's castle.

Here comes the rain again

2006-01-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

I'm not one to complain about the weather, but c'mon...

23 days of rain here in Seattle. In a row.

I loathe having to towel off the dogs after every walk. I loathe that my yard has turned into a mud bog. I loathe that my trusted old REI rain coat is no longer a shell of protection having worn out whatever protectants magically coated it's surface. Granted, it is 9 years old.

And I loathe that Monkey Hill smells like wet dog!!

Dear Mother Nature- please let the sunshine all day during our vacation to Disneyland next week. I promise I will buy a new parka and stop complaining.

The agony and the irony

2006-01-07T12:12:00.000-08:00

Are you a believer in fate, thinking that the mysterious power of destiny can shape and control your life? It could be called the same thing as karma, the golden rule- what goes around comes around. You know that I am a firm believer in that, however, I've been sitting on the fence with my thoughts on fate and destiny. Is there a mysterious power that can shape my life for the better? Or could it be irony? My own ignorance as to the coming fate?

For the past 12 years with my husband, we have steered along one path...a path that has led us to the exact spot where we want to be: strong relationship, financially secure, dedicated parents, karma in check.

Well, all my thinking and planning has gone to hell in a handbasket. We just bought another house that needs about 15K in repairs before we can rent it. OK, we can deal with that, even though we were looking for something that was completely turn-key. If it is meant to actually explode in our faces, then it will. We will learn from the experience.

Last month my husband had a vasectomy. It was something we both agreed on, having thrown back a shot of whiskey and a firm handshake. While his surgery was scheduled for the beginning of November, it got pushed back to December. Is it fate that directed his urologist not to be available for that extra 30 days? You might say so when you learn this:

I'm Pregnant.

How's that for a bit of irony?

What a learning opportunity this will be.

My mother said something to me the other day which brought tears to my eyes- and if you know my mom, she is not one to say warm and fuzzy things. She said, after a long pause, "Even though you always said you wanted only one child...you are such a kind and nurturing person that having another baby is only going to make your family stronger." By golly, not only did I start to cry, but then I realized that to my mom, learning about having another grandchild was like that scene in 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer', where Hermey the elf pulls out all the teeth of the Abominable Snowman and then he became all nice. Again...irony.

So, if you are a believer in karma, fate, destiny, would like to hear more similies about how my family's actions relate to those in the magical world of claymation, or love a good dose of dramatic irony, stick around Ce Soir ou Jamais (which you do know means 'it's now or never', right my Elvis fan friends?) for more updates. (And here you were getting all bored with my blog!!)

Happy Anniversary to Me

2006-01-02T11:02:00.000-08:00

And Happy New Year to you!

Yesterday my husband and I celebrated 12 years of marriage. 12 years...in a row!!!

Relaxing time was had this new year's weekend as we spent it with the best nieghbors in the world who happen to have a vacation house at the beach! And wouldn't you know...the house down the road from theirs is for sale.....

In which I could link to a lot of cool holiday music, but I don't

2005-12-21T19:35:00.000-08:00

One of my all time favorite things about the holiday season is the music. From the Nutcracker Suite by Tchaikovsky to the A Very Special Christmas compilations to Johnny Mathis and back again to the soundtrack from How the Grinch Stole Christmas I love it all. I have a holiday compilation of some of my all time favorites which stays in the car's CD player from the day after Thanksgiving until the day after Christmas. It includes modern day classics such as 'Happy Christmas (War is Over)' from John Lennon, 'Holiday Wrappings' from the Waitresses, and the original version of 'Do They Know it's Christmas'. I absolutely love this CD and I have burned a copy for just about every in-person person I know. My daughter is growing up knowing this compilation as Monkey Hill's soundtrack to the holidays.

I just realized that hardly a song that I love to blare and sing along to is what would be deemed a 'traditional christmas carol'. Last night, we fired up the player piano and inserted the 'An Old Fashioned Christmas' disc. First up was 'The 12 Days of Christmas.' Darian and I had no idea what happened on the third, eighth, seventh..OK, we really had no clue what happens on the 12 days of Christmas. Next came 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town'. You better watch out, else you get to hear us hum along to that one. 'Oh Christmas Tree' turned into "Oh, never mind." Christmas carols aren't taught in school (where I initially learned every holiday standard) and being of the non-traditional sort, we've never taken the time to teach them to our child and are far too lazy to start.

Instead, we turned off the piano, turned up the old cd player, and sang all the words to the Pretender's "2,000 Miles", dancing and spinning as we belt out, 'I hear people singing, it must be Christmas time!'. The player then shuffles, we hold heart to heart and hand in hand and sing along with the Whos down in Whoville. Diana Ross makes it into the mix with her version of 'My Favorite Things'. Elvis makes an appearance to let us know what color he turns if he can't be with us followed up by Run/DMC where it's Christmas time in Hollis, Queens. (I play the part of D, thank you very much- mom's cooking chicken and collard greens. Rice and stuffing, macaroni and cheese. And Santa puts gifts under Christmas trees!-probably some of my all time favorite holiday lyrics *ever*.)

Then, before we say good night to get snug in our beds, George Michael brings us the climax of our caroling with Wham's 'Last Christmas'.

This year, to save me from tears, I give it someone special.

Oh, George Michael! How you can sum up my feelings about the holidays in one pithy line!!

I think the glass is half full

2005-12-21T19:19:00.000-08:00

I know that I do not blog often and must admit that I have hardly a clue what goes on in the blogging world. I know that I log onto a site, try to compose something that will make someone, somewhere smile or even giggle. Aside from inserting links and hitting the publish button, my blogging skills are pretty elementary. I have some sites I like to visit but the time I spend online has become minimal. I still have yet to fully comprehend blogrolling, Technorati, Livejournal, RSS, Adsense and only recently have I been a regular reader over at Dooce. I have a stat counter, but forgot the login to it.

Today I was visiting one of my regular 'haunts' when I noticed a button asking 'What is your blog worth?' I entered my url. I think you can guess how much my blog is worth.

$0.00

Of course, being a naive optimist, I will take that 0 as meaning 'priceless'.

The nightmare before Christmas

2005-12-12T16:05:00.000-08:00

I have a thing about the Christmas tree. The thing is this: I loathe it. Pine needles and icicles and endless strands of lights. Not my bag. My brother-in-law owns a large Christmas tree lot. Every year I am offered a tree- not for free, mind you as he generously offers his condo in Whistler, BC to us gratis- but still, it's a nice offer. Except for the fact that I loathe the Christmas tree. And I loathe a live tree even more than I do so the fake. "Why is that?", you ask. "What kind of grinch are you?" Well, first of all, I'm not a grinch, I'm a Jew.(Non practicing, but I threw it out there for you to contemplate. And by the way this post is about a tree, not religion.) Second of all, all that work to put the thing up for your neighbors and family to ooh and ahh over and have their photos taken in front of for it then to be torn down 3 weeks later? Why? I'd rather put my decorating dollars to use redoing my dining room, or choosing area rugs for the living room, or buying yet another set of dishes we won't use. (But they looked so pretty!)

The tree has never been my thing until Darian came along. We decided we would give her the best of both worlds and she has opted for the tree and the baby Jesus. Fine by me- I'm glad to know she's believing in *something*. So anyway, back to the tree. When she was old enough to really get into Christmas, around her third year, (Do the first and second really count? I mean, the first one she was a baby and not conscious of much of anything that had to do with the spirit of giving aside from us giving her love and milk and more love-OK, you get it. The second one she was just into the cardboard tubes from wrapping paper and sticky bows.) So when the third one came around, you could see her eyes light up the day after Halloween when Target and Starbucks decorated their stores with holiday lights and all things that signify good cheer. We was gettin' a tree.

When choosing a tree, one has several options. First image that comes to my mind is the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Budgets were strict back then, but not that strict. My husband found a man selling artificial nobles in a parking lot behind a K-Mart and decided the price of $10 with stand included was too good to pass up. 8 feet of artificial glory was to be ours, some assembly required. And when they said assembly, they meant that you had to fashion the stand from a few pieces of metal.

From that first year until this we must prepare for the building of the tree stand. It's an arduous chore; one my husband does not necessarily look forward to, but revels in as it's completion is a testament to his skill and determination. The first year seemed like a lot of work- pliers, then vice grips, and finally beating it together with a rubber mallet. But something not so magical happens each year that the tree sits in storage. It plots to make the next year's assembly more painful than the previous. Last year, our neighbor offered his plasma cutter, but that might damage our hardwoods. After the fight and the tree was up, we'd ooh and ahh and take pictures in front of it and invite over the neighbors and look at it lovingly from the street.

This year, after needing to break out the blow torch and arc welder, my husband shook the stand with aggression, the tree almost busting through our living room window, and shouted, "That's it! No more Christmas trees! EVER!!"

"But what's Christmas without the tree, Daddy?" cried Darian.

"It's called Hanukkah."

Ten on Tuesday this Wednesday

2005-12-07T16:55:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile, but I thought this one would be fun. Plus, I need to tell you about this biggest source of contention here at Monkey Hill.

10 Household Chores You Hate

1. Yard Work. Never been one to tool around in the garden, rake leaves, or even mow the lawn. I did try it once, but I did not get the lines correct, so I leave it to my husband.
2. Sweeping under my daughter's bed. It's pretty scary what one can find under there.
3. The litter pan. I've given that task to my daughter.
4. Cleaning up after dog accidents.
5. The after vacuum filter clean out.
6. Let's see what's inside this old container in the fridge.
7. Organizing the mail. I have piles and more piles of papers that need to be filed. At least I do recycle the junk mail first thing and don't let that get out of hand. I know how worried you are about that.
8. Dusting the computer. Mine's frightfully dirty.
9. Cleaning the toilets.

And last, but not least:

10. Building fires in the winter. I refuse to become a member of Pioneer House. I simply flick on the heat. (This one is a sore subject between me and sexy husband who spends all his free time in the summers chopping wood and piling wood and chopping and piling and chopping and piling and covering a quarter of our property with piles and piles of wood. But then again, I have all those mail piles.) Just because we have two fireplaces- one with a wood burning stove insert- that heat the house more effectively and efficiently than the ol' furnace doesn't mean I actually have to partake in the woodburning madness. You can just hear the arguments blazing over here at Monkey Hill on a cold winter's night...after sexy husband has had his vasectomy and can't lift a thing. And me, the lazy wife, who refuses to touch the wood- double entendre!- for fear of breaking a nail..."Build a fire! Darian knows how to do it, why can't you? Do you know how much oil costs when we have chords of *free* firewood sitting outside for you to burn?" "Well, get Darian to build the fire!" "Oh, she is at the neighbors." 4 days post vasectomy, sexy husband is able to lift wood- there it is again (!), warm his home, and not have to listen to me complain about how cold it is in here.

Arrested Testicles

2005-12-02T17:59:00.000-08:00

*5 movie rentals providing over 10 hours of entertainment....$21.63

*Take away dinner from Jak's Grill....$50.00

*Prescription for Tylenol-3....$1.16

*No longer swimming in the reproductive pool....PRICELESS

Sexy husband is resting well, bag of ice affixed to crotch, and belly full from a mouthwatering steak. His only comment on the whole experience: he felt robbed in the drugs department. He thought, at least, he would get to be knocked out and enjoy a brief and legal narcotic high. Instead a local was given and he had a nice conversation with the doctor about their college days.

Our daughter knows that Daddy's nuts are numb, his plums have paused, his balls aren't bouncing. She has decided that she has enough of the potty talk and ventured to our neighbor's house, but before she did so, she was sure to provide me with a few words about Daddy's after surgery care:

Don't let the cats jump on his lap! They have claws!

A laugh at the expense of my husband

2005-12-01T17:48:00.000-08:00

*Honey, you know I love you, but I had to tell the internet this conversation.

My husband is literally on the road on his way home from a day on the slopes and we have family portraits to sit for in about an hour. This is the phone conversation we just had:

Me: Hey, how close are you to home?
Him: Oh, I am on McClellan, just about to drop James and Mike home.
Me: So, I should see you in about 20 then?
Him: Yeah, should be.
Me: Good, cause you need to shower before we go. Did you guys have a good time?
Him: (breathing a heavy sigh of content) Ahhh...I've got four words for you: E.Pic. Pow.Der.
Me: OK, well that is actually 2 words. Hey, I'm eating those wasabi peanuts! (Screams as the fire of wasabi makes it way through the back of the nose and hits the eyeballs, drool coming out of my mouth.)
Him: I can't believe you eat those nuts. Now I know what to get you for Christmas.
Me: Ha. Ha. Speaking of nuts, your urologist called. You need to shave your scrotum and bring in a pair of tight briefs for support after the surgery.
Him: Tight briefs? So, am I supposed to wear a pair of yours?
Me: I don't know. Look, I am laughing so hard; I have to go blog this, honey.
Him: Great, a laugh at my expense. Go ahead.

You heard it, internet, he gave me permission to tell you: He's getting CUT tomorrow!!!!

I mentioned to someone today why I would not be in the office tomorrow and they asked, 'For real? You got your husband to do that for you?' Well, it's not all about me, now! It takes 2 to tango and he has been wanting to do this for years. Years.

The irony of it all? Tomorrow is his dad's birthday. My husband will be severing his blood line's ability to carry on while the patriarch of the Bo family celebrates the anniversary of his birth. And my husband can cheer him on in his tightie whities.

The Happiest Place on Earth

2005-11-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

Sadly, I am not referring to Monkey Hill. Of course, it's Disneyland!!!! We're booked for January during a time when school is not out of session. We will have the parks to ourselves! Last time we went (in 2003), we stayed across the street from the park in one of the good neighbor hotels, but this time we are going to stay in the Disneyland hotel. Only because of the POOL. *I* really wanted the Grand Californian-rooms have bunkbeds, the hotel has a spa, and it is more convenient to getting into the parks- but I was outvoted. My husband's inner child tells him that his down time at Disneyland is to be spent splashing near skull rock and going on a jungle cruise. Me, I am hoping to swap potion recipes with the Evil Queen, or hook up for drinks with Maleficent.

Stuffed Portrait Friday

2005-11-25T14:34:00.000-08:00

It's SPF turkey style!

This week:

*Something or someone that/who makes the dinner
*The dinner
*The aftermath

This was the first year in many where I did not host. Thanksgiving is the one day of the year that I look forward to feeding many and thanking them for their friendship. NOT ONE person could come for dinner. NOT EVEN MY HUSBAND. But, I am not bitter. No, not at all. I am thankful that I did not take the day off before turkey day to cook (what I usually do) instead, I slept in till close to 11am yesterday! I was lazy! My daughter and I watched movies, then I did take some time to prepare one dish to bring to my friend Kathy's house. She and her husband took pity on me and invited us to spend the afternoon with her family. I did bring maple glazed acorn squash which, while being very tasty, did not look very good. To my benefit, there is no photographic evidence.

So you wanna see some pictures, eh? Here is the turkey:

Here's something that makes the dinner:

I have complete oven envy. But I shouldn't feel sorry for myself since the oven I have is rather nice and IT'S THANKSGIVING! I should not be feeling sorry for myself when there is so much for which I am grateful!!

The aftermath? A lovely dinner had with my dear friends and their family members who are just as lovely, and the feeling of happiness and gratitude for all that I have.

I heart advertising

2005-11-23T18:43:00.000-08:00

"Mommy! Mommy! I just saw something on TV that I know you would love to have and we could use it together! It's called the Real Meal Oven!"

"Uh huh."

"Yeah, it's really cool! It's an oven and you can make whatever you want whenever you want! Snacks, pretzels, *cake*!"

"Um. Yeah."

"So, Mommy, can we get it?"

"Darian, we already have a real meal oven."

"We do?!!"

"Yeah. It's upstairs. It's called The Kitchen."

Irony

2005-11-22T18:31:00.000-08:00

*Having your carpets cleaned then the very next day your big dog has an accident which requires nose plugs, industrial waste containers, and a shovel.

My boys

2005-11-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, that is a fairy princess doll that Ellie has. It's his special toy. And Dexter is never without his neckerchief. I love them both so much!

Mmmmm...meatloaf sandwich

2005-11-19T11:41:00.000-08:00

Food Snob

2005-11-19T11:25:00.000-08:00

Please remind me: never, never, never again order seafood at a 'chain' restaurant.

Last night, with a few hours to ourselves while our daughter prowled the zoo with her girl scout sisters learning night survival skills, we headed out to the theatah for some culture. Yup, we drove south toward strip mall heaven to the cinema with 16 screens and an endless sea of parking. We were set to view, no not Harry Potter, but Walk The Line. I am reminded over and over again to Fandango, but we thought we'd take a chance (at the high school dance) and hope that the 7 o'clock show was not sold out, being that Harry Potter was on just about all the other screens. Alas, no tickets for the Bo couple, so we swam through the sea of SUV's to the island of chain restaurants, one being Newport Bay. We'd never been, but being as we were cold and hungry, decided to give it a try. It was either there or Claim Jumper (which a visit there is another tale in itself.) This restaurant is billed as being local (many locations in Oregon) with a listing of 'fresh catches', so I thought, 'Great, I can get a piece of salmon and visit with my husband.'

There is a reason that my husband orders a burger at a place he has never been to; hesitant to try anything billed as 'Fresh'. He is a true seafood snob. Growing up in the Pacific NW, he is used to dining on catches brought into a restaurant that day from a local boat, or purchased from the local fishmonger. I, too, have had my tastes refined with living on the Chesapeake Bay for half my life. Last night's offering was probably the biggest disappointment in the decade plus that we have been dining out together.

I ordered crab and shrimp stuffed salmon, after choosing the appetizer of hot crab and artichoke dip. We were very hungry, each of us only having had breakfast that day, so we downed the chips and dip quickly, not taking the time to truly dissect that this appetizer contained entirely too much mayonnaise and salt. We waited patiently while our dinners were being cooked, our waitress letting us know that the entree I chose took just a bit longer to prepare than the other dishes. She made it sound as if I had ordered the chocolate souffle and every morsel would be well worth the wait. Twenty minutes later our food arrived and my face fell upon viewing. Salmon is supposed to be pink, not yellowish cream with an undertone of grey rose.

I went to take my first bite, asking my husband, "Can you find the salmon? It's hidden in a thick soup called the garlic lemon butter sauce!" I dipped my fork into the fillet, watching it then fall apart, oozing sauce and showing it's innards creamish grey pink, the color of being completely overcooked. Now wonder it took so long to prepare! They left it in the oven about 15 minutes more than they should, then tried to cover up the fact with ladles upon ladles of sauce. The crab and shrimp stuffing? Lots of cheese and shrimp bits! Our waitress returned to our table to ask how the meal was, my husband smiling with a mouth full of bacon and burger.

"Honestly, this salmon is completely overcooked. It's overpowered with this sauce and I have to say that I'm really disappointed with this meal."

"Oh, I am so sorry! This happens to be one of our best dishes and I recommend it to all our guests. You know, it is prepared in a lemon butter sauce."

"Thank you, yes, I know that it is supposed to prepared with sauce. Not soup. And look-the salmon is practically white and grey from the middle to the bottom. This dish has been overcooked."

"I can take it back and have another dish made for you. Would you like a burger?"

"No. You know, I had to wait 20 minutes for this dish, so I will just finish the vegetable. Thank you, though."

I took a bite of asparagus. Yes, I know. Asparagus. It's not asparagus season and I could taste that this vegetable had been prepared from frozen. I decided not to point this out to my waitress who most likely would not know any different. After all, it was obvious her eye was not trained to see at a glance if pink seafood was just that. Instead, I dipped my fries in the buttery soup. The manager of the restaurant then came to the table to say she was sorry and to offer any dessert on the menu on her! Wee! Dessert! Thanks, but I didn't have a hanker for a hunka mud pie; I wanted to enjoy some salmon.

I ended up paying the entire check, $17.99 for my plate of previously frozen and overcooked food, grumbling the entire time that management should have offered to comp the uneaten dish, rather than replace it with burger and cake. I decided not to fight it, instead, will never bring my business back to that establishment. I must have been in a low blood sugar fog to begin with, because if I were a chef in the northwest, I'd want to prepare seafood here, here, or even here.

My husband adding insult to injury with a 'See, this is why I always order a burger at a chain restaurant!'. Next time we are at Red Robin, I will remember this!

I'm a GENIUS!!!

2005-11-08T10:27:00.000-08:00

When Darian gets off the school bus, which lands in front of our house, and I am not standing in the yard with the dog, waiting, yelling at her to put on her coat, she knows to run next door to the best neighbors ever as Mommy will be home momentarily. Yesterday Mommy was not in the yard, listening to the dog bark at the other mom with a dog who waits for her child, and thus Darian ran directly into our neighbor's house. Even though Daddy was home and the door was open and she could have gone into her house. But no. She wants to move in with the neighbors and this gives her yet another reason why they should adopt her.

Upon arrival at our neighbor's home, Darian was instructed to please call her Daddy to let him know where she was. She was very excited and said, "OK, BUT, first I have to show you something! It's going to make me a GENIUS and my daddy will want to order it for me and I have to show you so that I can tell him all about it!"

She pulls the scholastic books order form out of her backpack and begins to peruse the books. "I know it's here and it only costs like a dollar so Daddy will order it for me! It's how to make me a genius!" She continues to look, then spots the book, showing my neighbor. "Here! This is it! The book that will show me how to be a genius! Look- the Genius book!'

My neighbor looks at the page and smiles. "Oh, Honey. That's not what is says. This is not a book about how to be a genius; it's a book about setting records. You're looking at the *Guinness* Book of World Records. It's *Guinness*, honey."

Guinness. Genius. Coach. Couch. Darian *is* her mother's daughter.

The new man in my life

2005-11-06T10:30:00.000-08:00

My husband has a co-worker who volunteers for Pasado as a rescuer. On her days off, she flies down to NOLA to help reunite animals with their owners, and care for the animals who are still homeless. A couple of weeks ago, my husband somewhat jokingly said, "If you have a golden retriever down there without a home, I'll take him." She thought he was kidding as I am sure she has heard all the trials and tribulations of living with another rescued dog, Ellie, but then said, "We do have a golden retriever without a home. Do you really want to adopt him?" Without hesitation he said Yes, then phoned me just to make sure it was kosher. How could I ever say no?

At midnight last night (this morning!) Dexter walked off the plane to be greeted by one of his new family members. Upon arrival at Monkey Hill, he immediately tried to befriend Ellie- who peed all over my leg and pooped on the floor. The cats ran for cover while he walked over to give me a hug. Dexter is a proper southern boy. He is kind and caring, says please and thank you, and calls me ma'am.
"Ma'am, I don't know anything about these *organic* treats. Y'all got some tater chips?"
This morning while making coffee (we didn't get to sleep till after 4:30 this morning as we chatted about our lives in between belly rubs), Dexter asked if I could make him a mint julep. Maybe later, my friend.

Dexter is very happy to make his new home in Seattle. He is an extremely affectionate dog, not realizing his 65 pounds, and thus likes to sit on laps. He cuddles in bed and pays no mind to Ellie's growling. For what he has been through- 5 days swimming through the flood~fending for himself before being found, losing his home and owner, then being kenneled for close to 2 months, he is a well adjusted canine. And *very happy* to be living on a hill.

Welcome to your new home, Dexter!

Pussy Pucker Pots

2005-10-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

My daughter is a huge fan of cats. Sometimes she thinks she is one.
Anything to do with cats, she is all over it. From the musical Cats to the
Cat in the Hat, to owning 3 cats, her world revolves around all things
feline. She has kitty shirts, kitty pencils, kitty stickers, kitty stuffed
animals, real life kitties and is convinced that once she dies, she will
come back as a snow leopard. That is a cat, you know.

The other day we went to the punk rock hair salon to get hers cut. While I
was paying, she discovered a jar with candy and some little tins with a
black 'French kitty' head on them. She asked for a free candy but instead
took the tiny tin. Thinking it was part of the free candy, I helped her
remove the protective seal once we were in the car. What's in the tin?
Pussy Pucker Pots~ vegan lip balm. While that sounds harmless, the back of
the tin reads: For the tastiest lips north of the hips. Hmm.

My daughter does use the term 'pussy' to describe kitty cats, but
hardly often as she knows it makes me cringe. Why it makes me cringe
hearing an 8 year old say that word is something she does not know. I have
confiscated the lip balm as I do not want her friends asking about lips, hips,
and pussy. I'm not ready to explain it.

My co-workers want to know just where this hair salon is located.

Off he goes

2005-10-13T04:45:00.000-07:00

It's time for Crazy Legs to be moving on with his adventures. He's been a really great houseguest. For a frog. Unlike the other animals in the house, he did not spill his food everywhere, eat his own poo, or try to climb the drapes. For that, I am thankful. Crazy Legs spent a lot of time with Darian who got along like best friends. They went shopping, blared music and did a lot of dancing, and went on loads of Darian's imaginary adventures.

Happy Trails to you, Crazy Legs! May we meet up again in the future!

Ten on Tuesday: 10 Best Presents You Have Received

2005-10-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

How fittng....as today is MY BIRTHDAY!!!

Thinking back to all my past birthdays and holidays, here is the list of the 10 best gifts I have ever gotten:

1. A trip to Europe~ 14 weeks and 9 countries back when I first married my husband.
2. Tickets to shows- too many to count but ones that stand out are tickets to Chicago the Musical, Cinderella the musical, Sleeping Beauty the musical, and all the seasons at the Seattle Children's Theater, in addition to the free concerts I got to go to courtesy of a relative in the record business. Most memorable: Jane's Addiction, the Cure, and the Rolling Stones.
3. The Judy Bloom collection of books when I turned 8. Sealed the deal with my love for reading.
4. Shoes. Most recently, a pair of Couch heels.
5. Drapes- my housewarming present from my mom.
6. Restaurant gift certificates~ I have gotten quite a few to some swanky places in Seattle and have enjoyed every one of them. Date nights with hubby!!
7. All the antiques in my house.
8. The following baby gifts were the best ever: the diaper genie and pacifiers!
9. Volunteering. Giving back has got to be one of the best gifts ever.
10. My marriage and my child. Without those 2 things together, I wouldn't be celebrating.

Happy Birthday to Me!!

He's here!

2005-10-07T18:10:00.000-07:00

I was sitting over at my neighbor's house, chatting about our days when the UPS truck pulled up between our homes. It was Crazy Legs' limo!! He's here! And just in time for my birthday!

Shizzle my nizzle with a side of gigglelizzles

2005-10-07T04:44:00.000-07:00

So why does Snoop Dog need an umbrella?

Fo Drizzle.

I have been giddy lately. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I get up at 4:30 every freakin morning, but recently I get the giggles around 1 o'clock everyday. My cube mates can set their clocks by the sound of laughter coming from my side of the office.

The stupidest things are making me giggle and I am sure if I wrote them out to you, internet, you would not be laughing as hard as I. I tell you though, my delivery in person will have you rolling. Fo Drizzle.

I used to work for a doctor's answering service. One Sunday I took the following call:

"Hello. I am having a reaction to my zovirexboomgee, " complains the patient who has a very thick accent, similar to a cross between Russian and Spanish.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, what is happening?"

"I'm having a reaction to my zovirexboomgee, " her rolling r's becoming more defined.

"Ma'am, I am sorry, but I am not familiar with zovirexboomgee." Being the professional I am, I try to stifle any giggles. Thank goodness for the mute button.

"I told you, I am having a reaction to my zovirexboomgee!!!!"

"Ma'am, could you please spell that for me?"

Clearly frustrated by now, the patient says, "Yes. I am looking at the bottle. It is spelled z-o-v-i-r-a-x-b-o-o-m-g"

"Ma'am, thank you. It's not zovirexboomgee, it's Zovirax 800mg, yes?"

It's 10 years later and that conversation still kills me.

From My Pad to Yours

2005-10-05T19:54:00.000-07:00

We are expecting a house guest here at Monkey Hill. Crazy Legs O'Houlihan is coming to pay a visit to the Emerald City. I have no idea when to expect him- I only know he is on his way.

Tonight while eating dinner, I viewed my neighbor's porch and was quite disturbed to see a package sitting there- waiting to be opened. "My blog frog's in there...I just know it!" My husband assured me that the package sitting at 1102 was not CLO. "Honey, the mail carrier *and* the UPS guy know you too well. Neither would deliver a package for you to the wrong house."

"Look at the shape of that box. There's a frog in there. My houseguest is sitting on Brad's porch!"

"Maybe Brad's a blogger, too, Mommy, and he is supposed to get Crazy Legs next."

"No! Brad is *not* next to host the blog frog! It's ME! It's my turn to have him!"

"Ummm...honey, do you have any idea when he is supposed to be sent here?"

"Well, no, but damn it! Look at the shape of that box! There is a frog in there! And you know, the label could say 1107, but the 7 could look like a 2 and even though the delivery guys know me so well, they still make mistakes! Oh, I know that box is my frog!"

Just at that moment, the front door of Brad's house opens and the package is taken inside.

"That's my frog he just took in the house!"

"Would you get over it, honey?! It's *not* Crazy Legs, OK?!! And if it were, Brad would bring him right over!"

"Mommy, what if Brad wants to keep Crazy Legs for a while?"

"Stop it! Just stop it! That frog is across the street and he is supposed to be over here!"

"Stop peering in his windows, honey! The frog was not delivered to Brad's house!"

Oh, Crazy Legs...when will you be visiting Monkey Hill??!

Blame it on technology

2005-10-03T16:13:00.000-07:00

I love cell phones! I love that most of the time spent conversing with my husband is not in person, but on the phone. And I especially love that there are areas in the Puget Sound that get no reception:

"So, I was thinking about what to get you for your birthday, " says sexy husband.

"You know honey, don't waste your time trying to find the perfect present which I will end up criticizing and taking back or exchanging anyway. Just cut to the chase and give me the cash."

"What? What? You're cutting out!! I can't hear you! You have a rash? What?"

Yeah.

I'm sure the reception is cutting out just as I want him to GSM.

Stuff Portrait Friday!

2005-09-30T18:05:00.000-07:00

This weeks's offerings are courtesy of Kristine's stepson's suggestions.

*Something in your house that isn't where it should be.

*Something you broke, but kept.

*Food that you have in your house that you never eat. (or drink)

First, I will show you the food:

Pesto in a jar. This one is just not one that I have a desire to serve on bread or pasta, but I hold onto it anyway. I know. Pesto! Everything else in the fridge and the pantry we will eat. Eventually.

Here is something that is broken, but we use still use it:

The 'entertainment center' in the playroom. The stereo is the one that I got when I was 12 years old and only one of the speakers work. You wouldn't realize the sound is only coming out of one speaker the way my daughter blasts Radio Disney and show tunes. The VCR that she has doesn't really rewind tapes anymore. But the Disney Princess DVD player is kind of new! It still works!

Now to show you what is out of place.....

The kitten wants to try out the new Toto Ultramax! Silly kitty! Toilets are for beings with opposable thumbs!

Here is one of the things in the house that is out of place and drives me nuts:

We have this game table that our Franklin Mint Monopoly Set sits upon. Ooh...you say...Franklin Mint! Anyway, my daughter and husband like to play a lot of chess so instead of putting the chess board back inside the table, it sits on top of the Monopoly set. And sitting under the chess board are two 'bathroom style' paintings which will most likely never get hung in the bathroom cause I don't like them that much anyway.

And there you have it!

The 23rd Meme!

2005-09-28T17:27:00.000-07:00

I know, Lora, you already posted it, but I got tagged by Vajana!

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

This is my 23rd post, April 10th. And the sentence is: I'm not really slapping- I'm simply tapping his cheek, but in the dark and half conscious, our perceptions are intensified.

Hmm...

As for tagging, I am not too into that. So, go to Vajana's and wish her a happy birthday, then visit Lora and congratulate her on the new addition to her family!!

Terry Love's Plumbing

2005-09-25T18:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I posted briefly about the toilet among toilets that was just installed in my second bathroom. I had the pleasure of purchasing the toilet from the expert on the Toto Ultramax. The man, the myth, the legend: Terry Love. When you google Toto Ultramax, the first non-sponsored link is his site. And there is a reason for that. The man could write novels about plumbing, flushing mechanism's, and commercial grade performance. In fact, he has several published articles on those subjects. Terry Love put the G in G-Max flushing mechanism.

When I called to question the availabilty of the toilet, I spoke with him. My husband did not believe me. When I said that Terry Love called my office from his cell phone, he still did not believe me. "C'mon, you expect a guy like Terry Love, the man, the myth, the legend, to return your call? The guy has more important things to do with his time than answer your questions about cotton white and colonial white color differentials." Oh, but my husband was wrong. Terry Love is about service and takes every call about the Toto seriously.

In speaking with Terry, I initially stated that I wanted the round bowl. He immediately asked if a man would be using this toilet. "Of course!" I exclaimed, "My husband can't wait to break that baby in!" "Uh, then he will want the elongated bowl, " he expertly recommended. "The elongated bowl? Well, I am not sure if we have the space for that- the area for the toilet is a bit cramped, no pun intended." He assured me that the elongated was what a man needed. So, taking his advice, I ordered, selecting the colonial white as my color choice. It would be ready on Thursday!

That day arrived and my husband drove across town to pick it up. At first, he thought he was lost, as he had entered a fancy residential area- no plumbing stores in sight. Upon reaching Terry's address, he was surprised to see toilets in the driveway and taking up most of the backyard. What kind of plumber uses their lawn as their warehouse? Knocking on the door, a sleepy man answered to say that Terry was not in, but, "your toilet is sitting there in the driveway." "No," my husband countered, "that toilet has some other ladie's name on it." The man sighed, and mumbled to himself that it was his day off and that he should at least get some sort of commission as this whole operation was his brother's thing. After a few phone calls, Terry arrived allowing his brother to go back to bed and my husband to take away the highly anticipated bathroom fixture. My husband then got a wild idea: *we* have a huge garage and shop here at Monkey Hill~ we could fill that space with Toto's and make a few extra bucks peddling them on the internet. But you know what, I wouldn't want to upset the Toto mafia. You know Terry Love's got a lot of powerful friends with their own Toto Ultramax's . Toto's hooked up my Terry himself.

Though the dream of having our own Toto business was quickly flushed- in 3 seconds, no doubt- the reality is that now we own the ultimate in gravitational flushing technology.

The Romans had their aqueducts. We at Monkey Hill have our Toto Ultramax.

Spaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!

2005-09-24T15:52:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting almost 2 years to have it. It's still not quite complete, but my spa bathroom is now user friendly. I just took a shower...a shower that has a thermostatic shower panel. What is that, you ask? Check one out here.

The 5 bodyjets are amazing- just like getting a massage. I love that I can adjust the shower head to go all the way up, creating a rainshower effect. I almost didn't want to get out, but I had to use the toiley. And I got the toilet of all toilets. I will never have to plunge again.

I really think I have died and gone to heaven.

Stuff Portrait Friday!

2005-09-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be on time this week!

Sept 23rd-It's Odd!

* Something that was perfect in the store, but awful when you got it home.

* Your cell phone

* Your camera

This week is easy peasy. What else would look perfect before I bought it, then awful when I got home? If you know me, you guessed correct:

Did you know that my dog is schizophrenic? Ya, he is. People with schizophrenia often suffer terrifying symptoms such as hearing internal voices not heard by others, He runs through the house barking incessantly at things that aren't there, specifically,at the back and front doors as well as the 17 windows throughout the house. NO ONE is outside. or believing that other people are reading their minds, controlling their thoughts, or plotting to harm them. He shivers and craps himself when anyone approaches him. He also looks at me with the 'how did you know what I wanted for dinner?' face when I cook meat. These symptoms may leave them fearful and withdrawn. Yesterday while walking past his favorite tree, Ellie started to freak out, shiver, and try to bolt away. A lone basketball was sitting on the other side of the tree. That's right, he was scared of a ball. A ball. Their speech and behavior can be so disorganized that they may be incomprehensible or frightening to others. None of my friends want to visit my home cause they can't understand any of his ramblings. As it is, Ellie has no friends other than me.

Here is my cell phone. Standard issue camera phone.

Here is my camera. You can tell what I whiz I am photographically speaking.

And there you have it!

THUD!!

2005-09-21T17:09:00.000-07:00

Did you hear that crash?

It was me! I just fell from a sugar high.

Sugary foods are pretty rare over here at Monkey Hill. Oh, go on, tell me what a horrible mom I am for not having on hand all the sugary, gooey crap that my daughter craves on an hourly basis. You're not the first to tell me so- my mom does it everytime she visits. "You know why that child can't wait to have some ice cream? Because you deprive her of what she needs! She is sugar deprived!" Hmmm...I didn't realize that sugar was a necessary part of a growing girl's diet! But I digress...I am not here to talk to you about how much sugar my daughter does or does not eat. I'm going to talk about my sugar comsumption.

I should preface this little bit by telling you that I am not a big fan of sweets. I take salty foods anyday. Though some of my favorite snacks do include some sweets, the times I actually eat them are few and far between. Until yesterday. And today.

Monday while grocery shopping, I discovered that my favorite Halloween candy, peanut M&M's, are now available in breast cancer awareness pink. Always out to support a cause, I purchased a pound bag to bring into the office to share with my coworkers. In addition to the pink candy coated chocolate covered peanuts, I purchased all the ingredients for my world famous chocolate chip cookies. It had been nearly 6 months since I baked a batch and decided that I needed to brush up on my baking skills. That evening my daughter begged and pleaded to open the bag of M & M's- a candy she only most recently discovered since, well, I deprive her!- and of course my answer was No!. ( I should let you know that my daughter does have some serious health issues with sugar and during the school year, we really need to keep her consumption at a minimum. For the sanity of her teachers and her parents.) (Yes, I know I said I was not going to talk about my daughter's use of sugar, but I know you are probably wondering why I didn't just open up the bag and let her have a few. Or maybe you weren't. I just felt like telling you anyway.)

So, no M&M's on Monday, but Tuesday was a new day and my friends in the office were happy to indulge in the new color, feeling good about getting a buzz so early in the day. The hours passed and the candy was forgotten, the bag rubber banded and placed in the corner of my desk. Tuesday after dinner, we fired up the KitchenAid and make ourselves a batch of good old fashioned chocolate chip cookies- my world famous variety. Each of us were permitted one warm cookie, then off to bed dreaming of more chocolate morsels melting on our tongues.

Being the generous person that I am, I brought in a dozen cookies today, again, to share with my co-workers.And also to keep away from my child. But as I sat down at my desk, ready for another challenging day, that bag of M&M's called out to me. It asked if I would add their consumption to my daily to do list. When was that last time I ate a half a pound of candy? Honestly, I couldn't tell you. But, by golly, if I can hit the goals put forth to me by my company, I can surely make my way through a half a pound of pink chocolately confections. Like I said, I am always ready for a challenge! And while I was at it, I decided to throw a cookie or two in the mix!

Around 10 this morning, I started feeling a little sick. Breakfast was, after all, 2 tall cups of coffee, a couple cookies, and about 1/4 pound of candy. Oh, only 1/4 pound, you say? Yup, the challenge was to eat the bag by the end of business day. I still had half the bag to go and I had heard that if you pair sugar with protein, your body is better able to absorb it without giving you those sugar side effects. You all know what they are. So I ran to the kitchen to grab my leftover chicken dinner. I ate lunch at 10:30 and felt so much better after having nearly a whole chicken breast in my gut. I was ready for the rest of the M&M's! And I am proud to say that I finished them off around 1:30 this afternoon.

But then I started feeling sick...and I was out of protein. I had trouble concentrating. I spent the last hour of my work day giggling and eavesdropping on my co-workers conversations. And wishing I had eaten more candy. And craving more candy. And giggling. And then the headache, and the irritibility, and the incessant whining. I cried to my cubemate, "How do little kids do this? I feel like shit. My stomach hurts and I can't poop!" He lamented and said that I just needed to run it off, like little kids do. But I was wearing 2 &1/2 inch heeled boots! I can barely walk, let alone run!

I left work cranky. I made it home in record time. I walked the dog and greeted my child and talked on the phone and tried on new shoes (my recent Nordstrom.com purchase arrived today!), and whined and complained....

And crashed.

No more, please, no more M&M's. I promise not to raid the child's Halloween bucket this year.

Seen, heard, said around the office

2005-09-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

"So, I have this customer who is referring to me as 'Tiger' in our e-mails back and forth," comments Mike to his co-worker, Joe.

"Tiger? Wow, what warranted that?" asked Joe.

"I have no idea..., " says Mike.

"Maybe she thinks of you as her Tony, " comes the voice of J Bo from her cube.

"Huh?" Mike and Joe question.

"You know...she wants you to frost her flakes," announces J Bo in a voice for the *entire office to hear* causing both Mike and Joe's faces to turn pink and a round of chuckles to be had.

J Bo then has a talk with HR.

The outcome? An e-mail that states everyone will now refer to Mike as 'Tiger'.

Roar!

Wy farz?

2005-09-18T12:32:00.000-07:00

Because I have gas!!

You may have noticed that I have put word verification on my comments. The only reason I did this was because I got spammed and did not like it, not one little bit.

I just left a comment for myself- (!!) and the word verification was wyfarz. Ironically appearing just as my coffee has kicked in....

Stuff Portrait Friday!

2005-09-18T11:46:00.000-07:00

A day late and a dollar short...that's me, but hey, I played. Finally!!!

This week's offerings are:

*kitchen
*handwriting
*something random

Here is my kitchen. One of my absolutely favorite places in the house aside from my bed.

I don't do much writing while at home; I tend to scribble lists. Here is the last thing I wrote down:

I love this random photo of Darian at Disneyland. She found the Bob cheese in Minnie's kitchen. *love. that*

So there you have it! Stuff Portrait Friday from J Bo!!

Anyone want some candy?

2005-09-15T20:12:00.000-07:00

Oh, sure. What else is new? Yeah, you know all too well about the diarrhea factory also known as my dog. While he used to poop throughout the house whenever mad at me- read: just about all the time- now he is showing some respect and is now *eating* poop. Everytime our new kitten uses the litter pan, he is right there to pull it out and snack on the almond roca. He even leaves bits behind for the vacuum to enjoy.

Today he decided to eat some wet cat food then puke all over the carpeted stairs. And here I thought I could call the carpet cleaner and tell them not to do the stairs- save that cash. Dare to dream! Thanks for puking salmon surprise all over the sage green carpeting, dog. Thanks.

You know, I shouldn't complain. *I* adopted the special needs dog. I was told he would be a handful. I was warned this would happen. I brought it all on myself. I can't give him back and when I let him out hoping that he will run away and/or get hit by one of those speeding jerks that rush through my hood (Hi, the speed limit is 25 in a residential, assclown! Slow down!), he instead waits for me on the back porch. He refuses to run away!!!!

I know I am too good for him. He knows it, too, and just tried to offer me another piece of almond roca.

pooped out from candy

Taking a deep breath and going for it

2005-09-14T19:10:00.000-07:00

I am not ready to exhale and probably won't until it is all said and done. Saying we wanted to take on another, but now actually about to embark on this new journey has me reaching for the Xanax and the red wine. But that does not do a body good, eh?

What has me spinning, reeling, wondering what the future is going to bring? No, I am not pregnant! Granted, what we are about to become is something of a parent. Nope, not another Pomeranian. *That* is easy.

We are about to become landlords.

Landlords!!

Earlier today our broker e-mailed to say that we qualified for investment property. I quote, 'Anyway the fun can begin and the challenge is to find something that can pencil out with maybe a couple hundred negative knowing the value is going up or maybe you will be lucky and it will be a wash who knows??? '

Lucky? Negative Cash Flow?!! Fun??!! What *are* we in for???!!!

Ten on Tuesday this Wednesday

2005-09-14T17:45:00.000-07:00

I'm back! And what better way to say, 'Hello, Internet, let me reintroduce myself to you' than to do give you Ten on Tuesday's: 10 Weird Facts About You. That's me, of course.

1. I cannot stand to sit on bar stools. I actually loathe them. One of the reasons that I do not watch the Regis show, aside from the annoying hosts, is because everyone sits on bar stools.
2. I have a wonky toe nail. I'm not telling which one, nor which foot, but it's wonky from an infection from when I wore toe shoes. Every day of the week! (Kidding about that part, but it did happen when I was en pointe.) Weird and gross!
3. I used to work in a Fotomat booth. That is just a weird place to work.
4. I have an overpowering sense of smell. Am able to smell different meats, cheeses, libations, and perfumes on people. Weird!
5. The actor Eric Stoltz saved my life when I was 18. I stepped into traffic in Trafalgar Square and he pulled me up on the curb just as a double decker swooshed by. What makes this weird is that he was accompanied by that guy who played Malicki in Children of the Corn.
6. I have never and will never drink a glass of milk. And I have never had Wonder Bread. Some people think that is weird.
7. I sometimes think in haiku. Weird!
8. When I was a teenager, I went by the name of Debbie Glitter. My teachers at school knew me my that moniker. Weird!
9. Speaking of names, there is a woman with the same name as me who goes to the same doctor. My insurance has been billed for her services. Weird!
10. Have you seen my hair? Weird!!

Donate Now

2005-09-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

I would never expect that in my lifetime, I would see part of my country ripped apart by natural disaster with thousands upon thousands of people left with nothing but the clothing on their backs. Americans as refugees. I have been shocked and horrified by what I have seen happening in New Orleans and the rest of the Gulf Coast. I am just not able to articulate how sorry and helpless I feel.

I called the Red Cross this morning to offer a donation. Why I had not done so sooner, I could not tell you. Please, make a donation toward the relief effort. If not the Red Cross, then here is a list of other organizations who can help.

I've fallen...and I can't get up!

2005-08-27T21:15:00.000-07:00

Help me, Internet, you are my only hope....

Last Sunday, while on a camping adventure with my family and friends, I threw my back out. Or is that threw out my back? Anyway, I was in so much pain that Monday was spent all day flat on my back in bed and it hurt like a mofo to walk. I was up on Tuesday, well enough to make it to the doctor who said that I have a possible herniated disc. What?!!! He told me not to panic, take some anti-inflammatories and a muscle relaxer, and if the pain has not subsided by Thursday, give a call for some physical therapy. But what about pain meds? Pain meds......

Wednesday I was able to go to work. I did have a physical therapy appoitment for another problem (why, why am I falling apart?!!) and instead of weight lifting, I got to have ice and electrostimulation on my back. What a difference electricity forced through my back made! Oh, I felt like a new woman!! And how did I celebrate? I wore high heels to work the next day. Big mistake, though fashionably speaking it was not.

Friday was not a pleasant day and today is much worse. Sitting at the computer for periods longer than 20 minutes is agonizing and I thank my medicine cabinet for the emergency bottle of percocet.

I have a feeling that Monday will be back at the doctor's.....Oh, the pain!! I have never, ever suffered from back pain until this past week, and goodness...I have more sympathy now than ever for all of you out there who have been through the same woes.

I'm all out of Blog...I'm so lost without you

2005-08-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

Ah....look at all the blogging people.....

Her name is J Bo
blogging on line for what feels
like the very first time
Is that not fine?

Been a long time, been a long time, been a blog lonely, lonely, lonely time.

OK, you get the picture. It's been a while since I've visited my home away from home, the Internet, and I am not too sad about it. Hardly getting home computer time and not feeling inspired to put my thoughts in prose, I have set my blog on the shelf for when the time is right to write. Tonight does not feel like one of those nights, sadly. Like I said, I am not feeling inspired.

That's where you, internet, come into play. If you are a regular reader- and I know that there are at least 4 of you out there, not counting me!- leave me a comment/thought about what you like reading on my blog and what you would like to read. More Ellie stories? Not enough Ellie stories? More photos? Let me know!!

Where's my stuff?

2005-08-13T07:46:00.000-07:00

I have been faithfully playing Stuff Portrait Friday, and I am sad that I did not play yesterday. I was all set to take photos of my stuff, when my camera flashed the 'Warning: Battery Expired', then shut itself off. I then went frantically searching for new batteries and could not find one pack of double aa's anywhere.

Sexy husband decided to clean out the junk drawer- where all the batteries live- and Ta Da! I have batteries!

So, I will be late again, but sometime this weekend will have some photos up for you all to see.

Bagles & Cream Cheese

2005-08-11T19:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday while Sexy Husband was in the grocery store, he called to ask if there was anything we needed. I rattled off a few items stressing bagels and cream cheese. He was standing right near them, I know because he said so. Naturally when he came home, all the things I asked for were not in the bag. No bagels, no cream cheese.

Today he went back to the grocery store. I thought for sure he would pick up what I requested. He got tortilla chips and dental floss. Dental floss.

I still have no bagels and cream cheese!!!

Allergic to tires

2005-08-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

My daughter has a wonderfully vivid imagination. Some of her stories take on a personality of their own, becoming real to those she tells. She can be so convincing. Take for instance the story of her brother.

When we moved into our house 2 summers ago, she told the neighbor kids that she had a brother. No one ever saw this brother, but she would tell them endless stories of how he torments her, how she has to protect him sometimes, and other believable antics, likes/dislikes, and so forth. 'My brother loves Star Wars, too!'. In listening to her, not knowing her, you'd think she was telling the truth. Of course, the kids asked where this brother was and Darian would immediately change the subject. Then one day the neighbor kids asked their mother, if Darian has a brother, why don't we ever see him? Poor mother, not knowing her new neighbor hardly at all, had to explain to her kids that every family is different and it is possible that the new neighbor's parents may have been married before and one of them has a child that only lives with them part time. Or that the brother is just so horrid that they keep him locked in the basement most days. That's maybe why it's hard for her to talk about his actual existence with them.

Imagine how awkward my neighbor felt when she, after *months* of being told by my daughter that she has a brother, but only ever sees one child roaming the yard of Monkey Hill, asks me about my son, or step-son, or other child that is related to mine. And imagine how I felt in telling her that I have no idea what she is talking about, my daughter made up this 'brother', and we only have 1 kid! I finally got to learn about all the drama that goes through my child's head, not like I was ignorant to it all, but still. Good lord, what an imagination this daughter has.

We have a couple of cats that we adopted from the same litter a few months after we moved into our house. My daughter is a definite cat lover- sometimes even thinks she is a cat. I spent a whole summer only hearing her speak 'Kitty', listening attentively to which meows meant 'food' and which meant 'cuddle'. Her favorite pieces of clothing are her cat collar and her Cats (original broadway musical) t-shirt, and some of her favorite songs are from the hit musical in addition to the Cure's 'Love Cats'. Recently, she has announced that she can talk to cats and knows exactly what they are saying. She feels she is the female 8 year old version of Dr. Doolittle.

The other day while riding in the car, she was talking to her friend- a real one, mind you- about our orange cat, Griffin. She said that he finally told her all about his childhood (what a relief!) about how he lived on a farm and his mother work really hard to birth him, but the farmer had to sell his dad. His sister, who was allergic to tires- the rubber made her heart stop- was attacked by a crow who ended up killing her. Griffin had no sister, then Katleen, the pet rescue person we adopted him from, came to his rescue. And that is basically the story of Griffin's childhood. When he was only 2 months old. Here we thought he and his brother Martini came from an abandoned litter here in the city.

Is a tire allergy real, or just vivid imagination? And where was her brother in all of this?

I absolutely love that my child has this creative side. She has countless journals filled with stories that she has written- mainly comic drawings. The weeks this summer when she has not been in drama class, she has spent working on a comic book with a buddy. At night, when she asks me to read her a story, I often turn the tables requesting her to tell me one of her own stories. The child cracks. Me. Up.

Allergic to tires!

Poo Papty

2005-08-09T20:02:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday was one of those 'best days ever' days. It started out by sleeping in until *9:30* that morning and being lazy as all that was on the agenda for the day was a pool party. Our first pool party and with the bestest neighbors in the whole wide world.

Arriving in the afternoon at the bestest neighbors in the whole wide world's grandparent's house, one of the children pointed out the the L had fallen off the sign that hung over the cabana. I had not come to a pool party, I was attending a Poo Party. Oh, joy. With all the crap that I had been through lately with my dog, no pun intended, would my day be foreshadowed by the word Poo hanging above my head? Later that afternoon while lounging in the waters of the pool, my neighbor then noticed that the R was not complete- it was a P. Upon further examination, the sign had been constructed poorly and P was part of the manufacturing. We were at a Poo
Papty.

After spending most of the day in Oma and Opop's pool and impressing my family and friends with perfectly straight and sustained underwater handstands, it was time to run home and check on the dog. (I had made sure that all the rooms with doors were closed and that all blouses were in their proper places.) He was welcome to return with me as they have a dog friendly home/pool. (Earlier the bassett hound sat on a pool chaise and was led around the deep end by her master.)

Still wrapped in my towel, suit and ponytail dripping, the dog got a quick walk then a ride in the car. It was late- well after 9pm, and it was dark. I wondered what he was thinking as I was rushing him. We arrived back at the grandparents in record time, the dog shaking in anticipation of what was in the big white house. Making our way to the backyard, he was suprised to hear his family, and the neighbors, laughing and splashing in some sort of pond. You know by the look on his face that he was scared; my fear that he would poop all over the backyard.

I layed down my towel and made my way into the pool, never losing site of Ellie whose eyes were still confused at the whole scene. The kids had a game of shallow end baseball going, so I found my comfort spot in the deep end where Ellie found his comfort spot on the sidelines, hiding behind the grill. I played outfield, enjoying the warmth of the heated pool, the stars above me, and my child having the time of her life with her dear friends. Oma brought out snacks and in attendance appeared the home's dachsund and the visiting bassett hound. Ellie knows the bassett hound well- they basically leave each other alone, but the dachsund was a different story. Once he got a whiff of my dog in the other corner of the yard, he rushed over to see who this new visitor was. The other side of Ellie, the bassett hound appeared. Ellie frightended, with no where to run but ahead ran straight into the pool, dog paddling toward me. As I swam toward him, I swear that the Chariots of Fire music began to play as it was all so surreal and in slow motion. That ended my time of relaxation under the stars, in the warmth of the heated pool, surrounded by good friends and the laughter of our children. It was getting late, almost 11pm, and we all could use a good night's sleep.

I am so thankful there was no poo at all to be at the papty.

Stuff Portrait Friday~ Obsess Much?

2005-08-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

Oy, I am so stressed. I could not get any photos up yesterday as this is the first time I have sat down at my own computer. This week's offerings:

* Your Horrible Habit

My bad habit has to do with breaking the law. I am just not able to drive the speed limit, unless of course, I am carting around children. Then I try to maintain the proper speed. Granted, I have gotten speeding tickets, but now I know where all the speed traps are in my vicinity! My husband thinks I need to go to a track and race cars.

* Something you obsess over

It's has to be my skin. I am a lotion freak. The moment after I wash my hands, I must slather lotion all over them. After a shower, I have to have lotion on my entire body else I cannot clothe myself. And my face! Well, I have 2 kinds of face wash (not pictured), then I tone, lift, apply eye cream, then moisturize. I spend more time lotioning up my face than I do in the shower and afterward body lotioning combined. I am a freak for different lines of skincare and currently am using products from Oil of Olay, Arbonne, Clinique, Biotherm, Lancome, and Chanel. All for my *face*!!!

* Something that causes anxiety
(Sorry, internet, no photos to share of this one.)

I had to think a long time about this, thus the Friday posting on a Saturday. I then asked my husband his opinion of what stresses me out the most. He ran the gammit from having a clean house, to being on time for everything, to the refi of the house, but when it came to the one thing that causes me the most anxiety- it's my friendships.

I think about my friends almost all the time. And when I don't hear from them, I get really stressed out. I mean, I make an effort with regard to spending time together, why can't they? Now, the friends who are reading this- please do not get upset! These are my own *perceptions*! Remember how powerful perceptions are and how I had to go on an anti-anxiety/depressant for over a year? Ya, powerful schtuff.

I need to accept the fact that some people don't have a lot of time for in person friendships; some people just prefer to e-mail or use the phone as their preffered method of bonding. For me, I like the in person time. I *love* hanging with my girlfriends. Even if it is just sitting at the kitchen table, listening to the kids'laughter in the other rooms, chatting about nothing in particular. That really adds value to my relationship. I have some really close friends where we can do that often, but I gotta stop stressing about the friends who can't!

Ce Soir ou Jamais

Moving

Piper!

40 weeks, 2 days....

Packing the bag....

A trip to the ER and a new toy

It's a 9 year difference

They're not coming to visit because of the new baby, it's all about the bed

The H word

Just because I have two brains in my body doesn't mean I can think

Tell me why....

Enough with the irony, already!

Running the gamut of emotions

She certainly has her priorities straight

I'm not ready to have a baby....yet

Baby II~ Electric Bugaloo

Lily's Pampering Salon and Party Boutique

Overheard in the child's room

Nine years ago today...

I loves me some crab cakes

It's cheese...that's the stuff that binds

Rest up!

Seen, Heard, Said in the Kitchen

That's a Croc

Big M little m

And All That Jazz

Seen, Heard, Said in the Living Room

Everybody was kung fu fighting

Leavin' on a jet plane

This is about as good as it gets

Covering more ground faster than ever

This is what makes it all worthwhile

Sometimes, I just lose faith in humankind

The Dexter Bunny

Welcome to the world, Liam!!

He has good taste in sweaters

Stuff Portrait Friday on a Saturday

More fun with cheesey video

You miss my dogs, don't you?

The Naming of the Child

And the winner is....

I guess you want to know about the baby!

It must be something in the megapixels

Chess Tournament

Limerick Friday

The Tao of Darian

The Sea Inside

The code words on my blog and what they mean to the ones dearest to my heart

It was that simple!

What would Valentine's Day be without Terry Love?

Who says you shouldn't have instant puddin'?

I just don't get it

Kids say the darndest things

Fragilay...it must be Italian

The Happiest Place on Earth

I'm not kidding, really. I'm not.

Here comes the rain again

The agony and the irony

Happy Anniversary to Me

In which I could link to a lot of cool holiday music, but I don't

I think the glass is half full

The nightmare before Christmas

Ten on Tuesday this Wednesday

Arrested Testicles

A laugh at the expense of my husband

The Happiest Place on Earth

Stuffed Portrait Friday

I heart advertising

Irony

My boys

Mmmmm...meatloaf sandwich

Food Snob

I'm a GENIUS!!!

The new man in my life

Pussy Pucker Pots

Off he goes

Ten on Tuesday: 10 Best Presents You Have Received

He's here!

Shizzle my nizzle with a side of gigglelizzles

From My Pad to Yours