Sassafrassery

Flipping off Friday

2011-01-21T16:02:00.002-05:00

My cheeks are pink. Not in that healthy, glow-y kind of way. More like the dry, flushed, wet and oozing eyes kind of way. Flip off, sucky cold.

I have an endeavor this weekend that I am nervous about. We desperately need to organize parts of our home right now and my first major step towards doing so resulted in a furniture purchase yesterday. To the mere tune of $41.38, I am now the proud owner of a very well worn bookshelf and an equally as aged small dresser. No work needs to be done to the bookcase, as it will be hidden inside a closet. The dresser has a perfect place designated for it where it fits like a glove, adjacent to the door that comes in from the garage. But this slightly pathetic piece is in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and some new hardware. I know it's not much of a job, but for Ms. Anti-Craft, it's a biggie. Flip off, bones in my body that do not have one artistic part to them.

To the woman who almost ran into my car with hers, came this close to tagging me as I was walked into the office and then proceeded to give me a dirty look? Flip off.

MommaKiss is cool. Check out her Friday Flip Offs.

The Aunt Jemima

2011-01-19T11:45:00.004-05:00

I was recently flipping through some newborn photos of a colleague's infant with a couple of girlfriends at work. As we jointly expressed the deserving ooooh's and aaaaah's over this little beauty, I happened to mention that she needed an "aunt jemima" like Butterbean had while she was in the hospital. Both women looked up and, literally, took a step backwards. "An aunt jemima? What are you talking about?" I explained that the postpartum nurses had fashioned Butterbean's petite newborn hat into a cute tie-in-the-front style. I loved it and called it her little aunt jemima. These women... with whom I have shared intimate details of my life, who have met my family, who I call friends... were not pleased with me. In fact, they were obviously offended. These women are African American.

As I stumbled a bit over my reasoning and explanation to them, it occurred to me, I shouldn't have to be doing this. Not with friends. Because as my friend, you should be wholly confident that there is no conceivable way my harmless nickname could be interpreted as a derogatory remark. Because I don't do that. I am not like that. And now, I am offended.

At what point can we let our guard down and be able to speak to one another without mentally censoring each and every syllable beforehand? Can't we just all be friends?

Amateur photography

2011-01-18T11:00:00.006-05:00

Images taken from my 3 year old's perspective.

lovely top of the toilet bowl decorations...

reading material, anyone?

a peek at Ms. Photog herself...

mom needs to put her shoes away...

Mabel up close and personal...

this is not an ad for Diet Coke. it is, however, what is needed at 6am on a Saturday morning.

Check out Photos Taken by Three Year Olds for other fun shots.

Martin Luther King Day to a 3 year old

2011-01-17T08:52:00.004-05:00

We were listening to the momentous I Have A Dream speech on the radio while driving to school this morning and I knew I needed to say something to my daughter about this meaningful holiday. She gave me the perfect opportunity to do so when she asked why we were listening to all this "news" on the radio.

"It's not the news, honey, It's a recording of a very important speech made by a very important man a long time ago." (well, not so long but by her standards...)

"What's a speech?"

"A speech is when someone talks to a group of people about a specific topic. This speech was about the importance of equal rights for all people."

"What's equal rights?"

"Equal rights is that all people should be treated fairly. And at the time, not all people were being treated fairly by other people."

"What's fair?"

"Fair is when things are done the way they're supposed to be done and people are treated the way they deserve to be treated."

"So the people weren't nice to the other people?"

"Some people weren't nice... well... yes, some people were not nice at all... to some other people. And it was wrong. And today is a reminder of an amazing man who led the way for people to be nice to other people."

If only it was that simple.

Flip-Off... because it's Friday, of course

2010-11-12T10:15:00.002-05:00

I am giving the big middle finger salute to some of my most favoritist topics today.

Flip off family member. You know who you are. I am tired of watching the people I love be hurt by you and your self-centered irresponsibility. So, you have problems. Of that, we are all well aware. Get the help you need now and stop emotionally abusing those who care about you the most.

Flip off... me. I am livid that I allowed myself to be manipulated into telling Hot Lover about his Christmas gift from me. I know better! I am not a good gift giver and this is one that he would have been so excited about and meant the world to him. So now, that Christmas morning surprise? Right out the flippin' window.

Flip off Cheshire Cat. Like your nickname? It has been given to you by me due to your complete insincere nature, never once straying from that cheesy, ear to ear grin. You couldn't be more fake if you tried and it's pathetic to watch your office banter day in and day out. Also, do you know what I do when I really dislike someone and find their character morally reprehensible? I envision them naked. Because that, Cheshire Cat, is never a complimentary image in my mind's eye and just makes you even more repulsive to me.

And finally, the biggest of the big, FLIP THE F OFF is dedicated to the cancer and random illnesses that continue to plague my cousin. It's time for some good news and a little break. For example, leave her kid's stomach alone and let HIM get better so she can relax enough to let herself heal. Oh, and cancer? Suck it.

To get your fix for more Friday Flip-Offs, check out Momma Kiss.

Finally, my Thank You

2010-11-08T20:09:00.005-05:00

This post has been long overdue. For several reasons. Life itself, and this.

Another blogger did something wonderful and generous for us and I have been at odds as to how to respond to that giving gesture. So I just haven't discussed anything at all.

I have been following Stay at Home Babe for a while now. A couple of months ago she sent us a beautiful apron for Butterbean and some delicious gooseberry jam. When I say delicious, I don't mean really that. I mean scrumptious. Out of the blue. For no reason. Because I am not a well read blog, this was beyond surprising to me, to say the least. It was sweet and giving and I was simply overcome by it. So if anyone reads this (who knows who will because I have not been commenting on my favorites recently), please check out Stay at Home Babe. Not because she did this beautiful thing for us, but because she is so smart, snarky and is an amazing mom. She is so much of what I feel: a MOM first and foremost. But also staking her claim as herself, in that she is not only this title of "mother", but she is a strong, willful person who is living her life for 1,000 reasons, and knows her most important role is to be happy in her life and raise competent and amazing people, in the meantime. For all of our differences, I see so many similarities between us. What more of a common bond is there?

Now I am going to comment so you all know I am no longer in recluse mode. Hope you don't hate me for it.

You're a ho, Hi-Ho

2010-10-05T15:51:00.004-04:00

We had a long weekend. Hot Lover and I dropped Butterbean at his parents house for the weekend while he and I went to college town Alabama to watch a football game. Too much drinking and two late nights later, we collected our spawn and hit the road headed in the direction of home.

There is a board game currently popular in our home that we are frequently asked to play. Hi-Ho Cherry-o. I fucking hate it. It's the nails on the chalkboard one where you pluck berries off the trees into the baskets only to pull them right back out again. Over and over and over again.

Having never played it before, it became clear to me that the game would end much more quickly with a slight adjustment to one rule. Without boring anyone with the mundane, when one spins and lands on the basket, it's suggested one start over. In my version, we just put a few back and gaily continue toward the game's conclusion. Hot Lover, however, steadfastly plays by the rules. And in my opinion, if he wants to be the dumbass for not following my take-the-easy-way-out lead, that's his prerogative.

We were such the nice family unit, happily cruising down the road when Butterbean let out a long, drawn out wail and burst into tears. The real ones. It was so sudden and so unexpected. It took Butterbean a minute to calm down enough to explain herself to Hot Lover.

"um, um, um, um.... when you get the basket, you say we have to take all the berries out..." sniffle snort "but when mommy and me get the basket, it's only two.... waaaaaaaaaaaaa!" more tears.

"well, honey that's nothing to get upset about. mommy and i just play it differently."

"but, but, but, but..." sniffle "but, but you take all the berries out of the basket. mommy and i don't take all the berries out of the basket. waaaaaaaaa!"

"sweetheart, it's ok, we can play the game differently."

"but daddy, it's only two berries..... waaaaaaaaa!"

"butterbean, you need to calm down, this isn't a big deal. it's a game."

snort, back of the hand snot wipe... "it's two... but you... you do the whole basket......waaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"we just do it differently. you're fine. enough with this."

"but but but..." snort "but daddy, the basket..."

"can we just stop talking about the damn basket now?"

That morning? It was a crapfest.

2010-09-08T09:24:00.003-04:00

The other morning started out ok, other than the fact Hot Lover and I were barely speaking to one another. You know, just the all too typical can't get on the same parenting page with one another thing. Always a hoot. I was already a little bent, shall we say, that morning when I pulled into the gas station next to Butterbean's school on empty. As in, "7 MILES TO E", empty. Reaching for my wallet, I came up empty handed. Wallet was safely tucked away at home in a bag I had used the night before. I had no cards, no spare change, nada. Holding my breath and keeping a watchful eye on the now "6 MILES TO E" I headed in the direction of home. That is, until I saw blue lights behind me. Immediately I knew what was going on. For it was September 2. And I had not yet renewed my August tag. On the one morning, at the worst possible moment, I get pulled over for having a tag that was an entire two days expired. When asked for my license, I simply indicated the now "5 MILES TO E" on the dash. I informed the officer that I was headed around the corner to retrieve my wallet, that contained money so that I wasn't stranded on the side of the road and, imagine that, my license. Bitch showed no pity and wrote me two tickets. I was now at "3 MILES TO E" as I pulled back onto the road. The morning was getting the best of me as I, in vain, attempted to fight off the stupid girl tears that were welling up behind my sunglasses. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something briefly flutter into the air and out the window. One of the fucking tickets flew out the motherfucking window. Here in Georgia on the second day of September? Still scorching. And with one trying to conserve the remaining few droplets of gas left, I had opened the window a bit.

I made it home. I bawled like a baby for a solid five minutes. So hard that the dog stood next to me giving me that wild eyed "oh shit, if you're this upset, I really have cause for concern" look. I got back in the car, made it to the gas station with "1 MILES TO E" to spare and headed to work with red, puffy eyes that I had to blame on bad allergies for the next three hours.

Birthday

2010-08-16T21:37:00.004-04:00

Happy Birthday (yesterday) to me. 38. Really? 38?? Where did the time go? How am I that old?

Finally... YAY for Prop 8!

2010-08-05T14:20:00.001-04:00

Politics and Talk Radio

2010-07-27T09:23:00.004-04:00

I am not very politically active. Mainly, because I don't trust politicians. No matter what possible good intentions they may have initially had, if any, it doesn't take long for those to melt away once intertwined in the sordid existence that is American politics. Also, I refuse to label myself. Republican, Democrat, Independent, Libertarian... blah blah blah blah. It pisses me off we're expected to pin ourselves to one. I don't back a party, I back an individual. Sadly, it's usually the best in a group of poor options, but at least it's a person, not a party.

I listen to a lot of talk radio. Recently, I have been listening to three talk radio stations that couldn't be farther apart on the political spectrum. One is Christian based super duper conservative, one is a flaming liberal African American station and one is a conservative, non-secular station. I would love to include a non-extremist liberal station to the mix, but I'm in the South. Those are hard to come by here.

I find it fascinating to hear the different perspectives these show hosts have on current events. There is no middle ground for these people, only black and white to an almost extremist stance. It's our right as citizens of this country to have opinions and beliefs and to freely express them at will. That's one of the great things about living where we live. Without a doubt, the formation of such non-traditional associations have produced some amazing movements that introduced different ways of thinking and thus, positive and necessary changes for our nation (see illustration below). There is something to be said, though, for keeping a finger on the pulse of some of these more radical groups. There often is a fine line between and those with truly good intentions for change and those who have such an fanatical outlook that it limits their scope of perspective and they become intolerant to views different from their own. And that scares me.

In the meantime, I am doing my part by tuning in daily, sometimes mouth agape, sometimes enjoying a chuckle or two and sometimes putting some serious thought into what I've heard.

"Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful." ~ Samuel Johnson

Wordless... Thursday. whatever.

2010-07-22T21:15:00.002-04:00

One and Done

2010-07-21T10:07:00.001-04:00

I am an only child. And I have hated ever single second of it. As a child, I begged my parents to have a baby. When I say begged, I mean on the floor, on hands and knees type begging. Bawling. It was quite unattractive. I did this often growing up. About once a month. I believed that I was missing out on an integral part of my life not having a sibling. It didn't matter to me the gender, the age difference, the whatever. Didn't matter one iota. I yearned, from the deepest part of my being, for a brother or sister.

My parents were older when they had me. Not at all older by recent standards, but my mom was 32 and my dad was 36 in 1972. Considered ancient, at the time. They thought about having another child when I was about three years old, but for various reasons, decided against it. I detested being raised as an only child and at a very young age, swore up and down that I would have more than one child.

Fast forward. I get married at 32 and have a baby one month away from my 35th birthday. At the time, I fully intended on of trying for another child when Butterbean turned one year old. The birthday came and went. Not long after, Hot Lover casually mentioned he would be ok with having an only. I wasn't rushing to the drugstore for any ovulation tests, but I wasn't willing to write off the possibility of Baby #2, either.

Months came and went, and that yearning for another child simply wasn't there. I felt complete. We felt complete as a family. But that nagging voice in the back of my mind kept reminding me, you said you wouldn't do that to your child.... Not long before Butterbean's second birthday, I did some serious soul searching. What exactly did I hate about being an only child? My parents doted on me, I got everything I needed and wanted (within reason), I was so loved. So, then, what else?

My parents are very conservative, type A people. Wonderful people and wonderful parents, but they were certainly not the fly-by-the-seat-of your-pants type. They're quiet. They love to read. They weren't big into playing.

I decided that I would be different from them. We'll do the fun stuff, we'll sing songs, we'll act crazy, we'll be dramatic, we'll be spontaneous. We'll dance.

Dance, baby. Dance.

The Randomness that is Tuesday

2010-07-20T09:41:00.010-04:00

~ I am currently obsessed with the single most unhealthy and disgusting food product I could possibly put in my body.

I can't get enough the greasy, chewy consistency of this quasi-meat substance. It repulses me, but continues to draw me into it's lair... this scrumptious, shameful lair of my fantasies.

~ I received a spam email suggesting the title of my biography: Susan's Subsequent Farewell. Maybe it has something to do with my perilous compulsion with the aforementioned matter.

~ From the mouths of babes: "Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a doctor or a dentist or a truck driver."

~ My toenails rock.

That is all.

For more random, visit The Un Mom.

Monday

2010-07-19T14:38:00.000-04:00

"The tall blonde let out a cry of despair, said 'I would've cut it myself if I knew men could climb hair. I'll have to find another tower somewhere and keep away from the windows."

Standing still

2010-07-15T08:27:00.003-04:00

The morning of our wedding, I was driving back to the hotel after having my hair done. I called Hot Lover to chit chat and have our "final" conversation before it all became official. At the time, he happened to be walking from the hotel to a restaurant down the street to meet a few of his buddies for an early, post-hangover lunch. I got a bit mixed up and had to pull into an empty parking lot to turn around. As I was pulling in, I saw him. The back of his head. Walking. In the same parking lot I was already pulling into. Typically, I am not huge on conventional traditions, but still, I did not yet want him to see me that day. I started screaming into the phone, "DO NOT TURN AROUND! DO NOT TURN AROUND! WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT TURN AROUND!!" What would be the natural reaction for most people when they hear that? To turn around, right? Not him. Not having any idea what was going on, he stopped where he was standing, stood still and waited. He then heard the rumbling of my car's engine, heard me doing a rapid 180 and simply, stood still. Until I said the coast was clear. He thought I was crazy and laughed. But he stood still. That's my guy. As crazy as I may or may not sometimes be, he stands still, he endures, and laughs at it all.

Loving the random

2010-07-14T11:44:00.001-04:00

~ Did I miss the memo that said it's ok to be on a work related call at the office, while in the bathroom stall, doing your business, as the automatic flusher repeatedly flushes?

~ In related office bathroom activity, I am either working with a bunch of really sick people who need to go home or people with eating disorders, because each time I have been to the restroom today, someone has been blowing chunks.

~ On to other topics, I recently read and article written by Chesley Sullenberger, Captain Sully's wife, about how their lives have changed since his heroic landing of US Airways Flight 1549 into the Hudson.

In all these months since the accident I can only recall three days when we had no mail regarding the accident. Just today we received a wedding invitation from an engaged couple who were on Flight 1549. Included in the invitation was a note that said, “Words cannot express how much we thank you. We now look forward to our marriage and starting a family.”

Wow.

~ Beware of plump spiders in your home if you are not a fan of countless post-utero baby spiders fleeing from the squished mama's body.

Borrowed because I have nothing worthwhile

2010-07-12T12:42:00.002-04:00

I borrowed this topic from Issa.

i don't want to be at work.
i don't want to not have a paycheck.
i don't want to look in the mirror.
i don't want to see the extra pounds i need to lose.
i don't want to think about what's for dinner.
i don't want to clean my house.
i don't want to be anxious anymore.
i don't want to explain my definition of anxious right now.
i don't want to want to think of unimaginable "what ifs".
i don't want to hear of those "what ifs" happening to others anymore.

You

2010-07-05T15:21:00.004-04:00

You're an impressive egg... and football... finder.

You're willful to an awe-inspiring extent.

You have questionable taste at times, but always have a killer sense of humor.

You're very well aware of what you want. And how to get it.

You're an amazing breakdancer.

Your smile makes me smile.

And now, you're three.

I love you more than I thought was imaginable. Thank you for being you.

Morning... yawn

2010-06-30T10:00:00.001-04:00

Typically, I would consider it a nice gesture for someone to say, "Susan, we are praying for you now." Lately, I have been receiving daily emails expressing this sentiment. I have to ask... who are you and why must you pray for me? Is there something you know that I don't for which I am in dire need of prayer?

Random Tuesday Thoughts

2010-06-29T09:01:00.003-04:00

Got a call from Butterbean's school yesterday.
"Butterbean stuck a woodchip up her nose."
"A woodchip?"
"And it's pretty far up there."
"Damn woodchip."

Conversation with Butterbean about said woodchip en route to doctor's office.
"Honey, why did you put a woodchip up your nose?"
"It was naptime. I was on my cot. I didn't want to nap. There was a woodchip on the floor. So, I put it up my nose."
Well, now I understand.

2 minutes later.
snnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiiifffffffffffffffff
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Sarah

2010-06-22T09:02:00.002-04:00

We have another new family member. This time not of the aquatic type. More of the imaginary kind. Her name is Sarah. She started out being a "big, gray dog who can talk" but I think she's (magically) transformed into a kid. Butterbean decided to take Sarah to school today. Fine by me.

Upon entering her classroom this morning, Butterbean carefully seated Sarah in the chair next to her. She then initiated a conversation with her real friend, Jack, about Sarah's decision to join her at school to meet all of her friends. All the while pointing to the empty chair. The expression on poor Jack's face has made my day.

What it is

2010-06-17T22:28:00.003-04:00

I haven't been here and I know nobody reads anymore, but it is what it is. I am always at a crossroad between feeling overwhelmed by life and underwhelmed by it at the same time. I have nothing profound to say at the moment, but I am still here and reading you. You know who you are, because otherwise, you wouldn't be here. I still comment. Thus, I thrive.

Cristin and Andrea

2010-05-06T21:54:00.004-04:00

Oops! Hope you don't mind, but if Issa doesn't already know you, I spread the word about you both because I love reading your words. She doesn't have a clue who I am, but I did it anyway.

Wordless Wednesday... nothing better than a happy kid

2010-05-05T10:18:00.000-04:00

Random Confessional

2010-04-28T15:58:00.001-04:00

* I never use fingernail clippers. I only use full size scissors, even when I do Butterbean's nails.
* I love the way my dog's breath smells. And it's stinky.
* I can handle most things but get seriously disgusted by people picking their scabs. I just threw up in my mouth.
* I love seriously dramatic and sad movies that make you think. I watch these movies when I am by myself so I can bawl my eyes out without feeling like a dumb ass.
* I am a carb junkie. I could live on carbs and nothing else.
* I have no coordination or balance whatsoever.
* I don't like musicals or plays very much. I get bored.
* If I could have any kind of vacation home, it would be a lake house in the mountains.
* I get vertigo when I am going up or down a lot of stairs.
* I get atrocious heartburn. I am sure I should be taking a prescription, but I haven't seen the doctor about it.
* I used to have very mild OCD, but I think a lot of people have a form of it in one way or another at some point in their lifetime.
* I think men who have an English accent sound feminine.
* I love the smell of gasoline and rosemary. Not together.
* I had an incredibly unhealthy relationship with my high school boyfriend.
* I had a boy's haircut for the first 7 years of my life. People always thought I was a boy. It sucked.
* My daughter will never have a boy's haircut.

Random Week

2010-04-27T21:47:00.004-04:00

I am declaring this Random Week Thoughts, an aside from The Un Mom, since I started out pretty randomly yesterday. Generally, I consider myself pretty random, so it works for me.

Remember the girl I referred to yesterday? These were the two statuses she posted yesterday: "Oy. big eating weekend. Puffy." and "how soon after a dental cleaning may I eat scones, muffins and cookies from Petsi Pies?" I really think she has a problem.

Butterbean has recently become obsessed with my legs. My unshaven, prickly legs, to be exact. She loves to sit on my lap in the mornings while she watches Word World and Dragon Tales, but lately has been very upset when my legs are not smooth for her to rub up against. So now, not only do I have a husband who gripes about a little leg stubble, but I also have an almost three year old questioning me multiple times a day, "Mommy, did you shave your legs today?"

We have a new family member. He is a beta fish. His name is Steve. Butterbean picked him out by herself on a surprise (to Mommy) pet store excursion with Daddy last weekend. Steve is not one of those breathtaking betas with vibrant colors, grandly gliding around his bowl. No, this fish is ugly. Hideous. Actually, when I look closely at Steve's face, he freaks me the fuck out. Why in the hell did Butterbean pick the most evil looking fish in the store?

Lately, I have felt inspired to embrace my hippie within. What that means, I am not entirely sure, but I want to be my more natural, yet hot, self. I don't wear much makeup as it is, so I'm good there. I don't always shower every day at times already (gasp!). I do straighten my hair because it's butt ugly if I don't, so I'll keep that up. I do need to step up the green in our home and I am working on doing just that. But maybe it just means I want to have cooler, eclectic clothes and wear lots of beads. Yep, that's probably it.

A little something, a lot of nothing

2010-04-26T09:20:00.001-04:00

There is this chick I am Facebook friends with whose statuses are driving me completely insane. To the point that I am tempted to point it out on MY status (laughing at my social media "issue"... since when have we had social medial issues?) But that would just be mean. Or would it? The girl clearly needs some help. I went to college with her for one year and she was a bit of a fruit loop even then, but it was perfectly fine with me to be quasi friends with her on the big F. Good to see she's doing well. Until I notice her status trend... the only, and I mean only, thing she writes her status about is food related. And she updates frequently. At least every day. I am as big of a food lover as the next guy, but I do have a little more to say about my life than updates on what type sandwich I ate for lunch.

Speaking of food, I had a tasty piece of cold pepperoni pizza for breakfast. Guess I am getting back on my no carb thing tomorrow.

In other food related news, the other night I picked Butterbean up from school and she wasn't feeling well. This I was sure of because she didn't want to eat. That simply does. not. happen. in her world, so I knew it was for real. Other than having no appetite she was acting ok, so after a little while I asked her if she was hungry, we proceeded to walk to the pantry where she was picking out something to eat and she promptly puked IN the pantry and all over the kitchen floor. Like 5 times. Then the dog came to lick it up. Food fail.

I am tired. So tired these days that I remarked to Hot Lover that with the headache I had and my recent state of exhaustion, I could very well be preggo. It was a joke. We are very happy with our one and done and are proactively preventing current and future conceptions. He made the comment, "well, then you would have some serious explaining to do because it would mean you weren't being honest with me." Huh? I probed a bit into his misguided statement and discovered he thought the pill was "99.9% effective so nobody can get pregnant on it." Huh?? Am I married to a 16 year old?

Definition

2010-04-19T15:48:00.003-04:00

how do you define yourself? through family? friends? your profession? your education? your hobby?

as many would, i suppose i define myself as mother, wife, child, friend. in that order, more or less. but when i think of where a large bulk of my attention and energy is spent, it's not on any of these things. and what i spend this time on is not important to me in the slightest. it's my job. it means absolutely nothing to me, except the security of a decent paycheck and pretty good benefits for my family and me. which is so important. i know that and i know how fortunate i am to have a job, especially in the current market. i thank God for that every day.

hot lover and i are in complete agreement that i need to continue my employment, based our family's financial responsibilities. the thing is this. i would love to have a job from which i gained something from, other than in monetary form. whether it be insight, confidence, knowledge, challenges, pride... whatever. something. anything. i think of all the hours i have spent doing this job, approximately 22,932, and i have probably enjoyed 40 of those. in total. i cannot say the time has been wasted, because many dollars, vacations and mortgage payments have resulted from this time spent. but i think about what i could have gained and could currently be gaining by being paid to do something that mattered to me. don't get me wrong, i am a realist in this matter. i have been enduring this job for almost 12 years because i chose to. nobody has forced me to or even suggest i not find a job elsewhere. quite the opposite.

therein lies my seemingly insurmountable challenge. i don't know what i would like to do. not a clue. when people throw out the inevitable, what would you do if money was no issue, question, i always have a fun answer. because sure, having a goat farm where the goats are like members of the family, making and selling goat cheese and soaps for exclusive boutiques around the world, sounds fun, but it's not reality. and i probably would hate it and suck at it. i know this because my fantasy used to be that i would have a pottery store and make all the pottery on my wheel that people would clamor for and pay big bucks for. then i took a pottery class. i never did finish that class because by the end of the 8 weeks, my friend who was in the class took pity on me (as she watched me near tears at the frustration of not being able to make one, fucking, single thing on the wheel) and she suggested we ditch the last few classes and go for drinks instead. she's a good friend.

but reality beckons and when i consider possible options for future employment, the only types of things i am quasi qualified for, i cannot bear doing anymore. so, in this world of the constant and looming threat of lay-offs and downsizing, and when the inevitable finally happens, i am increasingly concerned about where i will land. because i have to land. and i hope it can be, in some realm, something i consider a further definition of myself.

See you soon

2010-03-15T14:17:00.003-04:00

In celebration of our 5 year wedding anniversary, tomorrow evening we are headed here

Where we'll spend a lot of time at places like this

Then we're headed North

We will not be spending a lot of time at places like this

But it's always fun to look.

It's Monday

2010-03-08T09:22:00.002-05:00

Typical Monday morning, 5:45 am conversation in my home.

butterbean: "mommy, I have small boobies."

me: "yes, you do have small boobies. you'll have bigger boobies when you're a grown up."

butterbean: "when i'm a grown up, i can also have beer and diet coke."

dreams, big waves and poop

2010-03-04T14:34:00.005-05:00

I am fascinated by my dreams, so much so that on a typical night, I will remember 2-3 of them. When I was younger, I even trained myself to dream about whatever it is that appealed to me. Those were some fun times. When I tell people that, they don't believe me. But it's true. It's hard, though, so I stopped doing it. Kind of like I trained myself to get rid of my migraine headaches through biofeedback when I had no immediate access to my codeine script. And that was before I knew there was such a thing as biofeedback. That was hard, too, so I also stopped doing that. I don't get migraines anymore. Except these, which apparently are caused by extreme stress when your husband quits his job.

Not to get too far off topic, is it just me who thinks that reoccurring dreams are amazing? I know there are common reoccurring dreams: being late to a class or meeting, falling, being naked in public, losing teeth (I never have had this one, it's just strange). One dream that has haunted me over the years is being stuck in some sort of tidal wave. I am standing in a building at the beach and I look out the window to see a mammoth wave headed my way. And it hits the building. And the building is being flooded. Just thinking about makes my head a bit wobbly. Understandably, when I stumbled upon this CNN caption this morning, it caught my attention.

Giant waves hit cruise ship; 2 passengers killed

People were just hanging out and three SEVEN STORY HIGH waves hit the ship out of nowhere busting out windows and flooding cabins. "Suddenly we saw a wave that went up above our level, and I said to my husband, 'tonight we will not have to wash the windows,'" said Claudine Armand of France, who was in her cabin at that point. "Right then we heard we heard a loud noise, and it was the wave that hit us."

THAT is my nightmare. (along with the part about being on a cruise and worrying about having to wash your own windows... huh?)

So, dear internetz dream interpreters, rather than assume the meaning of my dream is... "Giant tidal waves may symbolize current emotional unhappiness and psychological stress, which are threatening to destroy you."... I say, bollocks. I may have some current psychological stress going on because, well, who doesn't? But there is no doubt in this mind that I dream about tidal waves simply because I poop a little bit in my pants when I hear about one.

It's National Pig Day!

2010-03-01T09:41:00.001-05:00

We are celebrating a holiday in our household today. Pigs are my favorite animal, so of course, we need to celebrate this day of days. Unfamiliar with National Pig Day? According to Wikipedia (ahem, yes, it's a real holiday)...

National Pig Day is an event held annually on March 1 in the United States to celebrate the pig. The holiday celebration was started in 1972 by sisters Ellen Stanley, a teacher in Lubbock, Texas, and Mary Lynne Rave of Beaufort, North Carolina.^[1]^[2]^[3] According to Rave the purpose of National Pig Day is "to accord the pig its rightful, though generally unrecognized, place as one of man's most intellectual and domesticated animals."^[2] National Pig Day includes events at zoos, schools,^[5] nursing homes, and sporting events around the United States. It is also recognized at "pig parties" where pink pig punch and pork delicacies are served, and pink ribbon pigtails are tied around trees in the pigs' honor. The question of whether the holiday is a time to honor pigs by "giving them a break" or to appreciate their offerings (spare ribs, bacon and ham) is an open question.

But here's the kicker: While we are far from abstaining from various pork delicacies in our home, (Hot Lover would leave me... yes, leave me, if we did), I don't think I am prepared to break it to Butterbean that her beloved bacon is derived from cute, pink piggies. Familiar with Wilbur, anyone? So, on this, National Pig's Day, she started her day with this.

And proceeded to rock the hell out singing Happy Pig Day at the top of her lungs while, sporting her pig jammies. Because that's just what you do on National Pig Day. duh.

2010-02-26T08:50:00.000-05:00

"that" Girl

2010-02-25T15:49:00.003-05:00

Butterbean. At two and a half, she's already a force to be reckoned with. Recently, I picked her up from school and noticed a large, ugly goose egg on her forehead. It seems that one of BB's friends kicked her in the head on the playground. Nice friend, right? From this point forward, she will be referred to as Bratty Ass Blonde (BABs). Understandably upset, BB did the "right" thing and told her teacher what happened. As teach called BABs over and was verbally scolding her in front of BB, something distracted the teacher, she glanced away momentarily, and BB swiftly landed a fully extended punch right between that little brat's eyes. According to teach, she smacked the living shit out of her. I can see her standing there now, listening to teach tell BABs that kicking is wrong... blah, blah, blah... and I know went through that little mind. "this is it? that fucking hurt, and THIS IS IT??? i don't think so." At two, of course, I needed to reinforce that it's not ok to hit (or kick, BABs... that's directed at you), but I am freaking thrilled she let that girl know who she was messing with.

Just two weeks prior to BB's beatdown on BABs, Hot Lover and BB had an interesting conversation driving to breakfast one Saturday morning.

BB: "daddy, I got into trouble at school yesterday."
HL: "what happened?"
BB: "i kissed jack."
HL: "why did you do that?"
BB: "because jack kissed me."
HL: "where did this kissing happen? on the cheek or on the lips?"
BB: "on the lips."

Upon their return home, HL recounts this story to me and as I am bent over from giggling so hard, HL furiously announces, "This is NOT funny! She is way too young to be experimenting!"

So, let me get this straight, I have the kid who's making out with the boys and kicking the girls asses?

That's pretty cool.

It's time

2010-02-23T11:49:00.006-05:00

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

It's time I venture back from anything but blogland. Nothing personal, Blog Peeps, just have been focusing on lots of the other.

* My sanity is (somewhat) restored, thanks to the return of that little blue pill in my life named Zoloft. I decided it was time to refill when Hot Lover proclaimed that he didn't give a rat's ass if my sex drive plummeted to next to nothing, it was better than living with this.

* Lots of family drama since Christmas. Not Hot Lover and me, but on the in-law side of the house. It's some real shitty stuff. I will say that I think Hot Lover and I have a whole new appreciation for one another. Sucks it sometimes takes a slap in the face like that to get back to a great place.

* Butterbean is the bomb. Seriously, I think she is a 15 year old living in that two and a half year old body. I have a plethora of BB stories I will share soon.

* Hot Lover and I are heading across the Atlantic in three weeks!! I am so incredibly psyched for it, but desperately trying to lose some weight so I don't cringe every single time I see my fat fucking face in pictures.

* I am still employed. I detest my job. No, abhor. But it's better to have an income than not.

* WHAT THE HELL is with the gray hair?????? I knew I had some and it became more apparent when I stopped highlighting, succumbing to the realization that I am indeed a natural brunette. But, this shit is out of control.

* I enjoy meat gifts. Interpret how you please.

A favorite funny

2009-10-06T15:47:00.001-04:00

It was a very long weekend

2009-10-05T11:34:00.001-04:00

Spent entirely at home. With this two year old. Embarking on her first potty training endeavor.

(what you talkin' 'bout willis??)

Pee hit the hardwood, pee hit the dining room rug, pee hit the living room rug, footprints of pee raced across my kitchen. I discovered several things during our quarantine. There is no such thing as too much Dora and Diego during potty training weekends. My dog likes to lick up random pee. If an IV of Chardonnay was available, I would have stated the drip promptly at 5:30 Saturday morning. And finally, I dreaded the duration of this weekend for a very long time and I had good reason to do so.

Back in the swing

2009-09-30T14:25:00.005-04:00

I have returned. Missed you, my little journal of a site, but I needed a break. I had quite a bit going on all at once and when you became a burden, I had to leave for a bit. Life isn't quite as tense as of late. Hot Lover got a job. A job he is psyched about. We are both psyched, and deeply relieved, about our increased cash flow. I am still facing possible upcoming unemployment, but I have come to terms that it is what it is. Keep on truckin' and hope for the best. I was pretty convinced there for a while that I was having a gradual, slow-moving brain aneurysm, which was frankly freaking me the fuck out. Fortunately, I finally received a non-threatening, albeit very annoying, diagnosis of ocular migraines. Brought on by stress. What a shock. Various other things have been swirling around in this little life of mine, but I suppose I feel I am once again getting a little more of a handle on things. Even if it's just a finger or two. Then again, that's life, isn't it?

"I always wanted a happy ending... Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it... without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity."

Fingers crossed

2009-08-03T14:24:00.003-04:00

Hot Lover quit his job about 10 weeks ago, give or take. I mentioned it in passing, but have not really elaborated upon it. That was intentional. His take this job and shove it was supported by me (after months of tense discussions), otherwise he never would have done it. These weeks have been hard for us both, for the obvious financial reasons. We have cut back, cut out, cut into... you name it. I have become an avid coupon clipping maniac and actually enjoy the challenge of seeing how many freebies and cheapies I can acquire. Who'd have thunk it?

It's also added a whole new dimension to our relationship. Both good and bad. This has been, and continues to be, a learning process for us both. Hopefully, we will not only learn from it, but be able to grow from it, as well.

He has a job interview today. As much as I want him to blow them away and get the most amazing job offer ever in the history of offers for the sake of us, I want it even more for just him. I want him to feel accomplished. I want him to feel confident. And I would never let him know it, but my stomach is in knots, hoping for the best for him, hoping that he is not disappointed or let down.

Looks as if some growing might be going on.

And another thing

2009-07-30T21:41:00.004-04:00

I had a toenail fall off a couple of weeks ago for some unknown reason. Here goes another.

Question of the day: why do my toenails continue to abandon me? did I somehow offend them?

you just threw up in your mouth a little bit? that's ok. so did i.

Don't ask about the fucking horse, dinosaur or fairy tale book

2009-07-28T15:11:00.003-04:00

Butterbean's school sends out a calendar at the beginning of each month listing special events, reminders for the parents and the chosen "theme" for each week. Each month I dutifully print it out and hang it in my office. When I am so inclined, I will even copy things I am expected to remember from this calendar of events into my dated, pen and paper calendar (yes, they do still exist). All of this comes as a complete shock to me because I never envisioned myself as that mom. The mom who brings cupcakes to school, who is whole heartedly involved in the PTA and the mom who not only knows the teachers by their first names, but knows the name of their entire immediate family. Considering Butterbean celebrated her second birthday mere weeks ago, hitting two out of three is a pretty strong start.

I seem to have hit a plateau in my mommy duties as of late. Two weeks ago, she was asked to bring in a toy horse one day for show and tell and a fairy tale book the next. Last week she was asked to bring a toy dinosaur to school. And I just now noticed that Friday was the "wear gray to school" day. Last Friday. Never mind she has no toy horsie, fairy tale book, dino friend or gray attire. I hardly think p.j. pants would have sufficed. Or perhaps they would have...

However, I draw the line at being scolded by one of Butterbean's teachers last week about my sudden attention deficit in this area. I refuse to be spoken down to for forgetting to shove a random toy in Butterbean's hand as she walked into her classroom, to soon forget about and not have a single two year old word to say about said toy once in was her "turn" at show and tell.

But, dammit, I will not forget that tomorrow is Bring Your Favorite Summer Toy to School day. What exactly constitutes as a "summer toy"? Will her purple sunglasses suffice?

My Bubble

2009-06-25T20:51:00.002-04:00

There have been a lot of justifications why I haven't been present in bloggy land as of late, but for the life of me, I cannot pinpoint just one explanation. I think the infamous straw that broke that back was when Maddie Spohr passed away. I included a very brief post about it here. I don't know these people, except through my sporadic visits to The Spohr's are Multiplying from time to time. But for some reason, her death weighed very heavily on me. Not only because I was devastated for any parents who have to experience this or anything like it. It was more than that. It was the overwhelming fear that something could happen to my very own Butterbean. It was the exhaustion of tolerating a job that I abhor and simultaneously the absence of which is not an option at the time. It was the weight of world events. And it was the mere fact that I have been at struggle with what is me for some time.

My solution was to bubble myself. You know, like Boy in the Bubble? Bubble myself against the harsh realities of the world for a while. Against the fact that children get sick and some of those children even die. Against the responsibilities that accompany adulthood, marriage and raising a kid. Against myself. Within the blogs I frequent, therein lie these realities of the world, both harsh and joyful. Such is life. Life is not always pretty. But is can be. Life is not always simple. But without complications, how would we appreciate the easy?

Quite frankly, I think I had my fill of other's lives and had to concentrate a little more astutely on ensuring I get myself in a better place than where I had been. I will say I am not quite there. But I can say that I think I am on that path. A hell of a lot closer than I was, at least. And that is something.

(a very heartfelt thank you to those of you who have hung on with me. i was surprised, and truly humbled, that a few of you noticed I was MIA. it means a lot. and sometimes every little bit helps...)

Hi... not Bye

2009-06-23T11:04:00.000-04:00

In short: husband quit his job, strapped for cash, kind of stressed, drinking too much (cheap) wine, hate my job, love that i have a job, feeling fat, kid has moved to older class at school, made me cry, have been blog neglectful, will be back.

Drama queen

2009-06-02T10:23:00.002-04:00

Check out the animation she has about getting these damn post-it stickies on her face.

describing in detail exactly how she would like some orange stickies on her face...

emphasizing how terribly critical it is that she put the stickies on her face...

i'm trying, i'm trying, but it's not sticking very well...

oh, it's not working! but you don't understand how badly i want the stickies on my face!!

wait! could it be? could they actually be sticking to my face?!

oh, hell yeah! i'm a freaking genius!

Depressed

2009-06-01T09:46:00.002-04:00

I have not been around for a while. I don't have an interesting excuse, only that I am down and out. There's no one reason why, it's more a combination of normal life events. Nothing to be concerned about. We're all healthy and fine. I do have some damn cute pictures of my kid that I will try to post tonight. At least it's something. Cheers.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T21:13:00.001-04:00

I haven't been here much, but I have lots to share. I'll be traveling this week so will have time to be here. In the meantime, Happy Mother's Day, you cool chicks.

Swine

2009-05-01T14:04:00.000-04:00

(almost) Wordless Wednesday

2009-04-22T09:42:00.002-04:00

Any mom is quick to recognize this: lost sippy cup found. Four days later. Milk has seen better days.

But one look at this

and this

I'll just hold my nose, suppress my gag reflex, grin and bear it.

Head here for more Wordless Wednesday.

Fed up

2009-04-20T14:41:00.002-04:00

The other night Hot Lover and I went out with some friends to celebrate his birthday. We went to a fantastic dinner, albeit a little pricey, and then headed to a laid back bar down the street from the restaurant to enjoy another cocktail... or three... or.... well, whatever. That's not the point. The point is that I am not a big fan of hitting the bar scene anymore. I haven't been for a long time. I had my day, actually years and years of days, enjoying all types of bars and clubs. Time goes on and I grew out of wanting to be crammed in a small smoky space, dodging mis-spills, straining to hear what someone is saying to me. But we found ourselves in one of these very locations that night, which was fine because everyone else seemed up for it. It was fine until I noticed all the other bar patrons. To say this crowd was a young, tan, sexy and absolutely gorgeous mix of young men and women, is an understatement.

I felt ugly. Translation: those ten pounds that have been hanging on have made me incredibly and stupidly self-conscious. I am the first to say that it's not what's on the outside that counts but the quality of person you are on the inside. (do i even need to say this?) But when what I am portraying from the inside is inhibited by the way I feel about my physicality, there's a problem. And that's what has been happening. I loathe and avoid anyone around me wielding a camera. Which means I have no recent pictures of Butterbean and me. I also have found myself avoiding meeting up with people I haven't seen in a while. And I cannot recall the last time I caught an admiring glance from a member of the opposite sex cast in my direction. When the hell did that stop happening?

I have decided I will lose this weight. This is my public announcement that I refuse to put myself in another social setting where I feel like the ugly duckling. On the inside or out.

Rut and roll

2009-04-17T09:42:00.000-04:00

I am in a blog rut. I have nothing of interest going on and my mind is spinning dog poo right now. I am tired. My face is fat. I am tired of starting and stopping this stupid diet to get these damn 10 lbs off that are driving me insane. I hate my job. It's getting worse by the second. And for some reason, I have rolling eyes syndrome where I can't stop rolling my eyes at things other people are doing around me. I get it, walk a mile in someone else's shoes and all but for the life if me, I can not fathom how some people's minds operate. For instance, the mom of the four year old at a birthday party a couple of weeks ago. Kid was having tantrum on top of tantrum. It happens, so either roll with it or roll on out of there. Not her. Instead, she let this child carry on and on and on and her response was simply, "oh honey, what can I do for you? oh sweetie, do you want this? or this? or this? or this? honey, just tell me what you want and i will do it..." ad nauseam. I am no parenting expert, but no. Just no. Or the girl who refuses to boot her admitted cheating husband who he keeps running around on. A guy who had some other girl's name tattooed on his freaking back. Tattooed! Or a select few blogs I follow that I cannot seem to stop checking in on even though they annoy the living crap out of me because the people are so freaking transparent and plastic. It's like watching a train wreck. (for the record, none of these people visit sassafrassery).

So for now, here I sit. In a rut and rolling my eyes.

There are no words

2009-04-09T09:03:00.003-04:00

I haven't been blog perusing for a short time. No real reason, just keeping up with a busy life that involves all the normal day to day craziness. This morning I logged on to Twitter for the first time in a while. I immediately noticed something was awry within the small community of bloggers that I follow. I delved a bit deeper. And I discovered it. I so wished I hadn't.

Madeline Alice Spohr

November 11, 2007 - April 7, 2009

I do not know Maddie personally. I do not know Heather and Mike personally. Still, I sit here crying at work, trying to hide my tears because I cannot imagine the depths of despair for all who knew and loved Maddie. This strong and spirited little girl managed to touch the hearts of so many. Maddie will not be forgotten.

Not many people read this blog, but for the few of you who do, please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers. And if you are so inclined, as I am, Heather and Mike have asked that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to March of Dimes in Maddie’s memory.

The first hunt

2009-04-06T20:50:00.003-04:00

That is, Easter Egg hunt...

checking out the loot...

but what did the other kids get....?

Don't bother

2009-03-30T22:46:00.006-04:00

Stop here. Don't bother to read this because there is nothing here that would interest anyone. In fact, it doesn't even interest me. But it's my blog and it's serves as a place I can vent. Here it goes:

iamsoverlyappreciativeofmyjobbeyondbeliefbuticannotstand

thedirectionmyjobisheading.idesperatelyneedtofindsomething

elsetodobutinthismarketthatisbeyondunlikely.ifeeltrappedbut

mustfindsolaceinthatihaveajob.likeialwayssay,itiswhatitis.iguess.

I would never have thought it would be so difficult to type without spaces.

Well isn't that special

2009-03-26T09:39:00.008-04:00

Something so... memorable... happened to me as I was checking out at the grocery store yesterday. The purchase included a much needed bottle of chardonnay, which I hoped would serve as a pick-me-up for my jet lag recovery and the whopping four hour night's sleep I had the night before. Special thanks to the child who believes 3 am is the appropriate time to get up for the day and "play, play, play, play....?" Clearly, I was not physically looking my best. That's what sleep deprivation does to a person.

The cashier carded me for my wine, checked out my ID, then promptly launched into what initially seemed like a big hearted story. In summary, he recently found a woman's paycheck on the floor of the store. He contacted the company that was listed on the check and they could not release the woman's contact information. At that point, many people would have ceased their attempt to return her hard earned money, but no, not this gentleman. He googled her and after some time-consuming research, found her Facebook page and was able to track her down. Had he ended his story at this point, I would have walked out of the store with my confidence steadfast in the good of human nature. Unfortunately for me, his point of telling me this story was not complete. The cashier then elaborated... "you know how you see a picture of someone and they look really good and then you meet them in person and they... look nothing like that? you know, they don't look good at all?"

And then it hit me. It occurred to this guy to tell me this narrative after seeing my picture on my license. Because in real life I looked like shit on a stick.

I was the bigger person and stomped wordlessly, fuming to my car. But I am curious, did broken, jagged tooth/ unsuppressed acne/ strange cowlick-y hair boy bother to look at his reflection that morning?

Crap, that was a little petty. Oh, well. We can't all be perfect.

She won this round

2009-03-16T14:36:00.004-04:00

The past few days Butterbean has often been heard repeating in a very sweet, sing-songy way, "Mommy, Daddy, I love you..." "Mommy, Daddy, I love you..." It was so precious, so adorable and in my weaker moments, she might have side-stepped some slight disciplinary actions, thanks to these loving expressions. Her love for us, it seems, is insurmountable and cannot be repressed. I am raising such a gracious and devoted child.

((sigh))

When I dropped her off at school this morning, it was circle time. Music was playing. And the children were happily singing "Mommy, Daddy, I love you..."

She's no dummy.

Spring has sprung

2009-03-11T19:59:00.003-04:00

Check out Wordless Wednesday for more wordless wonders.

20 month love letter

2009-03-05T22:04:00.003-05:00

Today is your 20 month birthday. Never, in a million years, would I have ever have dreamed you would be who you are. Because you are so much more. You amaze me every single day with the new things you know and pick up. It's shocking, actually. But I would have never guessed that you would be the absolutely amazing person that you are. Did you really come from me??? Because I often wonder how I could have had a part in creating this most awe inspiring person that, most clearly, I have. How did that happen?? You stump me every day with your intelligence, your wit, your sense of humor... you keep me going. As much as I detest getting up with you every morning, hours before dawn, I do cherish the time I spend rocking you and you clinging to me in those early hours. Every time I hear you say "mommy" and you reach for me, it tugs at my heart. Because I know as much as the timing may not be right or I am trying to get something accomplished, you come to me for all your needs. Me. You have made my life complete. You are the love of my life. Please know that. Always.

Works For Me

2009-03-04T10:03:00.006-05:00

I admit it. I am one of those people who pillages every possible hotel "amenity product". After I have completed said looting of the room and bathroom for the stash, I confess that I repeat the process they next day with any replacements. And it doesn't stop there. Pads of papers and pens? Mine. Local attraction magazines? Already in my suitcase. Don't get me wrong. Fluffy robes, towels and pillows stay in their rightful place. But if they are offering me something as an appreciation for selecting their establishment in which to reside, it would simply be rude not to accept it.

How exactly does this Work For Me? Those little bottles of hand lotion are the perfect size for a purse or diaper bag. I am looking at one right now sitting on my desk at work. In addition, I am now the hostess with the mostest thanks to that pretty basket for guests filled to the brim with every conceivable type of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, nail file, shoe shiner, shower cap, comb, soap, toothbrush, shoe horn, razor and eye mask available and at their disposal. Yes, I do in fact pamper and delight my guests.

I do, however, draw the line at Sex Packets. I have standards. Really, I do.

Rosemary's Baby

2009-03-03T10:56:00.004-05:00

I watched Rosemary's Baby for the first time this weekend. You know, the one wackadoodle Roman Polanski wrote and directed. This was my type of movie! Cool sixties style, crazy-ass special effects, little mental games that keep you second guessing yourself the entirety of the film.

For anyone unfamiliar with it, the story is about Rosemary and her husband Guy who move into an old, Gothic, completely jaw-dropping amazing apartment in New York City... that happens to have somewhat of an "unlucky" (aka evil) history. Of course, my first thought was how in the hell did these people score such an amazing place?? Granted, the history of the building is slightly daunting, but with 20 foot ceilings, mahagony doors and molding, I'll take it.

Rosemary and Guy haven't been married too long, she looks about 23 and he is a bit older at 30 or so. They are an exceedingly traditional married couple: he works, she stays home to decorate phenomenal said home and they hope to conceive a baby soon. Very Leave it to Beaver. Or so it seems.

They meet the eccentric elderly couple next door and become friendly with them, although I have no idea why. These people are the type I do not answer the door for and feign illness when invited for dinner. Intrusive and overbearing is an understatement when it comes to these two. But, hey, chalk it up to the sixties, they have to be much more polite than I would ever consider in today's day and age.

One night Rosemary gets a little tipsey, Guy puts her to bed and she has this wild nightmare about being raped by a hairy beast thing with red piercing eyes. She wakes up in the morning, is telling Guy about this dream and notices this...

WHAT THE HEY??!! Me's got scrtichy scratches all over my side! And Guy's response? "Oh, while you were passed out last night, I decided to have baby makey makey time with you. Guess I need to trim my nails." AND ROSEMARY ROLLS WITH IT! Rosemary, girl!! Red flag! Red flag! Rosemary is now preggers, thanks to this ever-so romantic and assaultive evening.

Rosemary has a rough pregnancy and feels like dirt. The maniacal neighbors make her drink "vitamin shakes" that look like snot. A good friend of hers warns her he thinks something unnatural is happening to her and he mysteriously falls in to a coma and dies. She discovers the neighbors are leaders of a coven of witches and she is convinced that they are after the baby. She tries to escape, but is reeled back in. She is drugged, has the baby, has no memory of having the baby and is told the baby died. She hears a baby cry next door and breaks in to see this...

her response is this...

because her baby looks like this.

It's then revealed that husband of the century, Guy, let the neighbors use Rosemary as Satan's sexy time play thing resulting in the birth of Satan's spawn. This delightful news is being disclosed to Rosemary, during which the demented couple's New Year's Eve slash Hey Come Meet Satan's Baby Party is rocking on in the background.

Baby Satan starts to cry and Rosemary is drawn to him because, well, it's her baby. Old dude neighbor tells her she can choose to be a good mother to him, it's her choice...

She proceeds to rock the cradle. The last image is a close-up of her face filled with love, gazing into the eyes of her child... Little Satan.

Good times folks. Good times.

Not me!

2009-03-02T10:13:00.010-05:00

Never would I slyly maneuver the covers off a loudly snoring Hot Lover in the wee hours of the morning. Never would I know that by doing this, Hot Lover's unconscious reaction is to instantly pull the covers back over him, roll over and promptly cease snoring. (good thing hot lover is not an avid reader of sassafrassery, but if he does happen to stumble upon this admission during an excessively boring mba class... sorry honey, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do... especially since this girl's gotta get up with baby at 5:30...)

I would never consider posting a picture of Butterbean enjoying a southern snow day just because I think she's cute. Never!

Head over to MckMama for more Not Me! Monday revelations.

What we do from 5:30 to 6:30 every single night

2009-02-27T09:37:00.005-05:00

It's a rough start to the evening

And then there is the part where she acts a bit coy

Shortly followed by the realization she has, indeed, been acting in a ridiculous manner

And that she should go back to the business of having fun

Early Wordless Wednesday picture time

2009-02-24T21:10:00.006-05:00

The players

The game

Visit other Wordless Wednesday participants.

I do what I have to do

2009-02-23T12:47:00.010-05:00

I got the idea for this post after reading and commenting on Darcy's blog at Life with my 3 boybarians. It's no secret that I love wine. It's also no secret that I love to save money. Strike that. I recently save money, but much more out of necessity than anything. I love to drink wine, no matter what the crap economy is up to. Several months ago, I stumbled upon an ad in the Rite Aid weekly circular for a deal on wine. Three bottles for $9.99. That's right, Rite Aid, the #3 drugstore chain in the U.S. Who'd a thunk it?

You didn't have to twist my arm. I was out like a flash and ready to partake in some Five Oaks festivities. So now for the taste. Believe it or not, it's decent. You won't find me gifting anyone with it, but it's most certainly a fine option for a night in. Hell, I'm not picky. And might I venture, it's quite oak-y. Such a wine connoisseur, aren't I?

Bottom line, it's $3.33 a bottle and on a really good day it's on sale for $2.50. Who can argue with a freaking drugstore that sells super cheap and, believe it, drinkable, booze??

What day?

2009-02-20T14:39:00.001-05:00

2009-02-19T13:34:00.003-05:00

Reminiscing a bit

I sat on top of my colleague's desk the same way I did every morning after our daily coffee excursion from the office cafeteria. I must have been engrossed in whatever mindless chatter we were engaged in because when he interrupted me mid-sentence, I was slightly annoyed.

"Hey, I have to go. There's my friend I told you about who is getting ready to interview. I need to go talk to him."

I looked up to see some guy dressed in the obligatory interview attire: gray suit, red tie. He looked nice. But I had work to do. So, I went back to my desk and did it.

That man is now my husband. But isn't it strange how things just happen?

If the job offer had held for the position he was interviewing for and that position was not subsequently eliminated, had he asked, I never would have gone out with him. I was coming off of a particularly unfortunate intra-office romance that had gone terribly wrong. I was burned from the whole office affair thing and vowed never to repeat that distinct lapse of judgment.

If I had not finally succumbed to my insurmountable frustration and had not one afternoon subjected my colleague to a curious "i-just-need-a-man-to deal-with-all-car-related-issues" rant, he would not have thought to offer to set me up with his interviewee friend. An offer I promptly refused.

If I had not three months later once again been overcome with emotion about car related problems and once again lamented to my colleague that I needed someone, anyone other than myself, to take over all of my car repairman terror-filled interactions, poor said colleague would not have thought to, once again, offer to set me up with the now dutifully employed friend. An offer I once again refused.

I am so glad I changed my mind.

for more reminiscing visit We are THAT Family.

Thankful

2009-02-17T20:50:00.003-05:00

For the taxes I pay because it means I am employed
For the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends
For the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat
For my shadow that watches me work because it means I am out in the sunshine
For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home
For all the complaining I hear about the government because it means we have freedom of speech
For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot because it means I am capable of walking and I have been blessed with transportation
For my huge heating bill because it means I am warm
For the pile of laundry and ironing because it means I have clothes to wear
For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day because it means I have been capable of working hard
For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means that I am alive

(i am not taking credit for this one, but it speaks to me)

Fun stuff to come next week

2009-02-04T10:36:00.009-05:00

Did I mention that I discovered in the emergency room on New Year's Day, that I have the colon of a 65 year old? Forgot to mention that one, did I? Diverticulitis. Happens to many. Typically, when they have reached official senior citizen status. Atypically, when they are 36. It was an exciting way to kick off 2009, that's for sure. Monday I look forward to cleansing my system out, complete with a liquid diet, some lovely pills, a gallon of something that I hear is disgusting and an anti-nausea pill... just for the joy of it. On Tuesday, Hot Lover will take me to be knocked out and scoped. Hey, Katie Couric didn't seem to mind the ordeal too much.

Random things

2009-01-30T09:48:00.002-05:00

I typically remember 2-3 dreams a night and I used to be able to control what I would dream about.

When I was young, I desperately wanted a sibling, so I would tell people that my poodle, Timmy, was my brother. How embarrassing.

My husband is almost 5 years younger than me (what can I say? i like 'em young!!)

I didn't get my ears pierced until I was 17 years old because I form keloid scars and was afraid my ears would scar horribly. Luckily, they didn't and because I felt "deprived" of earrings for so long, I now wear them every single day.

I hate to have my picture taken. I am extremely critical of myself.

I always have my toenails painted.

I love, love, love cheese and bread in any combination. Pizza is, and always will be, my favorite food.

I developed an allergy to oysters and mussels at 30 years old and I cannot eat more than one egg at a time or I will get a stomachache that will last about 3 hours.

I believe, from the core of my being, that tickling is a form of torture.

I have little tolerance for stupidity.

I am petrified of snakes, tornadoes and drowning. The first two are understandable to me, but the third is a little strange because I was a swimmer for years and years and years....

I find it incredibly admirable when a person can earn a living doing something they are truly passionate about.

As much as I have tried over the years, I am the single most inartistic person I have ever known. It makes me a little sad.

I am a Disney World fanatic and absolutely, positively CANNOT WAIT to take my daughter. The sooner, the better!

If I won the lottery, I would have a personal masseuse and get a massage at least once a week.

My parents live 5 minutes away from me. And I love it.

I have very curly hair but ALWAYS straighten it because it is big, frizzy and very unattractive if I do not.

I was arrested and charged with terrorism. The charges were dropped. It's a long story.

I am lazy. I love to lounge around but now as a mommy, I no longer have much opportunity to do so.

I have very sensitive skin and often develop odd rashes on strange places all over my body. This makes life fun when a product I regularly use is discontinued and I have to find a new one.

I have absolutely no mathematical aptitude.

I used to wear my hair the exact same way, pulled back with a barrette, for years. People used to tackle me to try and pull the barrette out. This was before I discovered my hair straightening technique.

I have few regrets, but if I had to pinpoint one, it might be that I never moved to NYC (my favorite city in the world).

I do not have photo albums. I have drawers full of pictures. It's very unorganized.

I am not very domestic. I don't even know how to sew on a button. My poor kid.

Ox

2009-01-26T15:26:00.001-05:00

The irony of life

2009-01-26T15:14:00.002-05:00

I always said that I would not tolerate two things in my child: picky eating and bratty behavior. Why is it that the few things I am dead set against, seem to be the most prevalent in my child these days? Is it asking too much to wait, I don't know, 30 minutes? 15 minutes? 5? in the morning before throwing the first of three consecutive tantrums? These are flailing on the ground, kicking and screaming until hoarse tantrums. From 6:30 to 6:55.

I am stopping by the bookstore on my way to pick her up tonight. Is there a "how to raise your strong willed child and keep your sanity intact" section?

I am not that important

2009-01-21T09:52:00.001-05:00

There are some extremely important people in the world. Take yesterday's historic event, for instance. That swearing in was for a person who is now one of the most important people in the world. And that dude has obligations. Good God Almighty, I do not for one second envy the responsibilities he has undertaken in his aspiration for, pursuit and ultimate achievement of such a monumental position. It would give me the runs. No joke. I have a nervous stomach.

Which brings me to my point. There comes a time when private, ahem, bathroom matters, should be just that: private. Or at least as private as feasible. I do not know a single individual who relishes in their sojourn to a public restroom facility. But it is what it is. Take care of business. In and out is my motto. Yet, I have discovered there are so many extraordinarily diligent, exceptional people all around me who are simply incapable of my particular assumption. I know this because they are bathroom stall phone talkers.

Now, I expect, no as an American tax payer, I demand, that President Obama take his phone into the bathroom with him if absolutely necessary, when perchance, the poor man is subjected to one of my weak stomach moments. He could be in the midst of making decisions that save jobs, save governments, hell... save lives. But to the random Josephine Blow sitting in the bathroom stall next to me, at work, no less... a supposed professional environment, chatting about her daughter's new haircut, I have one thing to say to you: YOU ARE NOT THAT IMPORTANT.

Slowly recovering

2009-01-20T13:23:00.000-05:00

Heard of that stomach bug going around? We have.

Tea time

2009-01-15T08:48:00.003-05:00

Butterbean was recently give this adorable tea set.

She loves to stir her pretend "tea" and give mom and dad little tastes of the imaginary concoctions. She'll go from one of us to the other repeatedly to ensure we each get our fair share. It's very sweet. It's also very sweet that she is now including her sausage-shaped sister, Mabel, in this taste offering.

Being the thoughtful sister that she is, Mabel is an enthusiastic participant in Butterbean's show of benevolence and never fails to dutifully lick that spoon clean. She's no dummy. She knows that one day, mom and dad won't notice that there will actually be a delectable treat for her on that spoon. So, until that time comes, she'll play this little game. She's just biding her time.

(almost) Wordless

2009-01-14T09:17:00.003-05:00

My ragamuffin, Butterbean, at the end of a school day, never stopping to take a breath, doing what she loves most. She so takes after her mom.

Check out Wordless Wednesday for more Wordless.

No, never

2009-01-12T12:28:00.003-05:00

Out of boredom, I did not take two of my recently prescribed pain pills at a time just to "see what it would feel like." It's not as bad as it sounds. The recommended dose was one to two every four hours. I had only been taking one at a time. And it had no effects whatsoever. For the record, taking two was no different. Wild times. Wild.

I did not buy and eat a whole bag of 75% off Christmas Hershey Kisses. In two days.

I did not throw away perfectly good dishes and home accessories that I no longer care for rather than giving them to some worthy organization just because I cannot stand to look at the clutter in our garage anymore. However, it is clean now. Thus, a very small part of my sanity has been restored.

I did not peruse a few favorite Etsy stores and place two orders for shirts (albeit adorable shirts) that Butterbean does not need. It's an Etsy addiction. I admit it. Can I redeem myself if I initiate an Etsy self-help group?

I did not loose my temper at Hot Lover when he could not restrain Butterbean from continuously yelling "mama, mama, mama, mama, mama, mama...." at the bottom of the stairs the one, single morning I had to sleep in until the grandiose goal time of 7:50.

I did not pull on the waistband of my black work pants so forcefully, to allow for a little additional breathing room, of course, that I bent the closure hook.

My plate

2009-01-08T11:56:00.002-05:00

From the very first day I can remember, I have wanted a sibling. Actually, wanted is not nearly expressive enough for what I have felt: desperately yearned for is a more accurate description. I used to lay on my hands and knees in front of my parents, bawling, absolutely pleading with... begging in it's most raw form... for them to have another child. Can you imagine how heart wrenching... ahem, pathetic... that mush have been to witness firsthand? All I wanted on this earth was a sister or brother with whom I could share my world. I still feel a significant void in my life not to have that person. It's as if in the greater scheme of things, I was supposed to, but something went awry. So, I am an only child.

I always knew I wanted children. And I knew I wanted more than one. Over time, the notion varied from two to three, back again to two, but it was always more than one. Always.

Here I sit, and have been sitting, for about eight months. I sit on the cusp of making the decision to not have any more children. Which would mean Butterbean would be an only child. Something I swore from the very core of my being, I would never, ever do.

I have been consumed with a great deal of introspection over these months and I have discovered something about myself. It's a common phrase used: "my plate is full." But, it's actual meaning differs from one person to the next. I have come to the conclusion that we all have our plates. All those plates are vastly different from one another. I believe while one person has the capability to pile loads and loads upon their plate with no negative ramifications, another might fill their plate with just a few spoonfuls. I am of the few spoonful variety. I do not want to risk cracking and chipping my little plate because of this long held "requirement" I have placed upon myself years and years ago.

My plate might be complete and that in no way means it is less full than any other plate. That I am sure of. My only fear is that there might be room for seconds a few years from now. And the kitchen will be closed.

My unexpected gift

2008-12-31T09:11:00.001-05:00

It was Christmas evening. It had been a long, boisterous, activity-filled day and I was stuffed to the gills with the Davis family dressing and Cajun spiced fried turkey. Butterbean earnestly asked for... ok demanded...something to eat with her signing/quasi-English language combo "eaa, eaa, eaa, eaa!" I suppose the five kernels of corn she disinterestedly grazed upon at our Christmas dinner didn't cut it, after all. She and I sat down at the kitchen table as she ate. It was just the two of us alone in the kitchen, a welcome change from the continuous family uproar and excitement of the day. As always, she was uber talkative, filling the room with her never-ending stream of almost 18 month old consciousness. As I sipped on my chardonnay and listened to her recite tales of the intricacies of her day, her life and other wonders of her world, I looked into her eyes and told her, "I love you." I am sure I say this to her tens and hundreds of times a day and don't even know it. This time was different. My child held my gaze, looked right back at me and clearly stated, "I love you" in return.

And that is where I end Sassafrassery for 2008. With my most wondrous gift of all.

In the meantime

2008-12-30T11:01:00.002-05:00

I haven't been here in a while. The holidays, one sick kid and exhaustion from aforementioned activities and conditions, finally caught up to me. The good news is that the sick kid is faring well and thanks to crashing on the couch in front of the tv for two nights in a row, I am finally feeling more well-rested. But as much work as Christmas always ends up being, I am saddened it's over. Not an unprecedented sentiment, I know. Christmas morning was wonderful for Butterbean this year. I wasn't sure how it would go over, but she really got into it. Here are a couple, not-so-good, pictures of the eve and morning.

I promise to get hopping on many forthcoming, witty and exciting posts. Until then, a very belated Merry Merry.

2008-12-16T09:09:00.001-05:00

This is one of my favorite wedding pictures. We look so happy. It's simply very genuine in the feel of the reception to me. However, there is one thing I would change about it. Check out the dude farthest to the left of the picture with dark hair. The one whose face is cut off a bit. That's an ex-boyfriend of mine. There's nothing wrong with him. Clearly, he's a good guy if I invited him to my wedding (and his sister and mother). And they all attended. I just wish he wasn't in one of my favorite pictures of my (then) new husband and me.

2008-12-15T14:43:00.000-05:00

No titles today and just a few random posts. Isn't this plate cute?

2008-12-15T14:21:00.001-05:00

Is it bad that I just had to use a calculator to figure out how old I am? I had no idea whether it was 35 or 36. HAD NO IDEA.

Books

2008-12-10T10:10:00.003-05:00

She loves them. She loves to be read to and loves to read on her own.

Out loud.

With lots of animation.

Oh, Christmas Tree

2008-12-08T10:47:00.007-05:00

I am pretty passionate about my Christmas trees and exorbitantly critical about their shape and height. Long and lean or short and stocky trees do not find a welcome home in my house. Thanks to this exacting nature of mine, the annual tree selection process is usually a bit of a struggle between Hot Lover and myself that I doubt either one of us look forward to.

On my way home from an overnight family get together across town yesterday afternoon, Hot Lover proposed that he pick up our tree on his own. Typically, this would be an outrageous offer and an unfathomable option to me. But in combination with feeling I generally have far too much to do in far too little amount of time and a sniff towards the backseat to confirm my Butterbean poopie pants suspicion, the decision was simple. And I breathed a grateful sigh of relief.

In hindsight, I think it may have been of slight benefit for us to discuss the purchase ahead of time. HL knows me well enough to sidestep any skinny or stubby tress. However, he did come home with this.

I don't feel the picture conveys the tree's sheer magnitude. I believe it was runner-up for the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. Maybe a lighting ceremony is in order.

Overwhelmed

2008-12-03T09:46:00.004-05:00

It's my favorite time of year. I love, love, love the Christmas season. But, as always, I am feeling very overwhelmed by everything going on and the 6392756383093 things I have to do. I have lists out the whoo-ha to hopefully avoid forgetting anything. But I know I will. Currently, I am most anxious about getting the dreaded Christmas card picture of Butterbean taken. Time slipped away from me and now I am behind the eight ball. As all moms are all too well aware, amateur mom-taking-photo-sessions are never easy. Saturday morning is the earliest possible opportunity for me to wrangle Butterbean into her Christmas dress, throw a stocking in her direction, hold my breath, and pray for one decent shot. I wish I could get it done earlier. Such is the life of this working mom.

photo compliments of Flickr by II Tipone

The bow doesn't cut it

2008-11-25T21:12:00.003-05:00

She had the bow.

And then she didn't.

And that is why she wears piggies.

Attempt at a snowflake

2008-11-24T14:39:00.005-05:00

I am the most uncreative and artistically challenged person I know. That I have ever known. This is not an exaggeration. It's not that I lack the interest because since early childhood, I have aspired to be crafty in one form or another and through the years have attempted many creative outlets hoping one... just one... might stick. I have learned desire in no way equates to skill level. Below, please find a delightful masterwork for Butterbean's class.

"oh look! another beautifious creation that little butterbean made. how darling!" Note I said "for" her class. Not "from" her class. I did this one. Parents were asked to make a snowflake out of this coffee filter. All of the snowflakes will be displayed together on a bulletin board outside of BB's classroom. In the hallway for all to see. A cornucopia of family snowflakes, if you will.

I knew mine would look like crap. I was not disappointed. Oh yeah, I will be sure to shoot a picture of said snowflake display when it is unfolded. And then we will all share a long, hearty chuckle.

A fear realized

2008-11-20T13:36:00.007-05:00

Allow me to introduce you to my weenie girl (aka Butterbean's sausage-shaped sister), Mabel.

I love her dearly. But I have a confession to make. Mabel has never been properly housebroken. And she is almost six years old. I tried. I really, really tried. I even nailed a little bell by the front door and for the first year and a half of her life, I took her little paw and showed her how to ring it every single time I took her out. One afternoon I heard that little bell ring. As I ecstatically raced to the door to take her outside, I was convinced it had finally clicked and she would now and forevermore ring that bell whenever she felt an "urge". That was the first and last time that bell rang by her means alone. I think her tail hit it.

I later gave up the Bell Initiative and trained myself in knowing when she needed to excuse herself in order to prevent any "accidents". I laugh at even attempting to use that word in this context because that dog does what she wants, when she wants, where she wants.

Since Butterbean became mobile, it always concerned me that she may encounter one of Mabel's "gifts" before I saw it. As I was getting ready for work this morning, I glanced into the bedroom to check on BB and noticed something in her hand. The fear was officially realized.

Thankfully, she was stumped by what she had found and simply regarded it in a disinterested manner. Thankfully, she no longer puts everything she sees directly into her mouth. Thankfully, Hot Lover has no idea this occurred or BB's sausage-shaped sister might now be looking for a new home.

Evading mom

2008-11-17T13:47:00.002-05:00

Proof that I truly do try to get new pictures taken of Butterbean. A single good one of 25 taken works for me.

I'll throw it out there... Botox

2008-11-17T10:08:00.001-05:00

As a follow-on to my previous post, I have discussed Botox with a friend of mine who sells it to doctors. She does it. She looks great. No decline in facial movement or expressions, just nice, clear, smooth skin. What's not to like about that? She discussed it with me at length at our fun football weekend. It's preventative because if you aren't wrinkling your forehead, eyes... whatever, then you are relaxing those muscles and making your skin smoother for the future. She can get me pretty deep discounts, but it still isn't cheap. I have not broached the subject with Hot Lover yet. But it's coming. Soon. I do not at all think he will be on board with this grand plan.

I so very much love getting, and looking, older.

An unfortunate truth

2008-11-13T09:06:00.009-05:00

I think I am finally able to muster up the courage to write about this slightly devastating event that occurred to me a few weeks ago.

The Georgia/Florida college football game is an occasion celebrated by University of Georgia and University of Florida students, alumni, fans and generally anyone in the southeast looking for an excuse to throw down at The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. The annual, well-attended game, and possibly the enthusiastic libation consumption, is a long-standing rivalry between the two teams.

The event takes place in Jacksonville, Florida every year. A plethora of fans from both teams crowd the city and outlying areas for a fun-filled weekend.

One of my closet friends has a family home just north of Jacksonville and we have been making the excursion there every year for the game since our college days. At first, it was an excuse for a wild girls weekend. Soon, a few boyfriends tagged along. They eventually became husbands. Then, we were blessed with the accompaniment of a baby or two. These days, it is a full-fledged family affair where for the first time this year, adults were outnumbered by children. Times have certainly changed.

On Saturday, the day of the game, we hire numerous, excessively capable babysitters, because that is key to manage our wild bunch of 11 children, all under the age of five. The adults make our way into Jacksonville to revel in the festivities. As we were setting up our tailgate this year, a couple of friends and I made our way to the ever-popular port-o-potty line. The line stretched endlessly, which provided us ample time to check out our fellow tailgatees. One group consisted of three packed buses of trendy, attractive college students from UGA. Two girls from this assemblage were also waiting in line and struck up conversation with us. We discovered they were there with a few fraternities, they were staying close by and when they were headed back to school. Then one of the young ladies turned to me. And addressed me.

"Yes Ma'am."

I was completely and utterly speechless. Did not say a word. I was literally too stunned to speak. But my friend caught it and blurted out "MA'AM??!!!!" To which the young lady, who will henceforth be referred to as girl-who-doesn't-yet-realize-she-needs-glasses-and-an-IQ-test, inquired as to why that was wrong to say.

I do not kid myself. I am not their age and I do not look their age. But until then, I unabashedly assumed they looked upon us... me... as being a slightly older version of themselves. Many thanks to girl-who-doesn't-yet-realize-she-needs-glasses-and-an-IQ-test, apparently, that is not the case.

As I attempted to come to grips with this fact and re-gain my once confident hey-I-look-kind-of-hot-today composure, I did the math. I could be this girl's mother. I would have been a young mother, but if she was 18 and I gave birth to her at 18, it was possible. So, this girl was regarding me as one of her parent's peers and simply attempting to be polite. I could cut her a break.

Not happening.

Wordless

2008-11-12T15:13:00.000-05:00

Honoring all who served and who now serve

2008-11-11T09:14:00.004-05:00

From my family to yours, enough thanks cannot be spoken.

Not much petting at the Petting Farm

2008-11-10T08:54:00.003-05:00

The Petting Farm was not such a success this time.

"Oh, crap Daddy!! Do you see that?!"

"There's one of them right there! He's got his eye on me!"

"Uh, please don't notice me, please don't notice me..."

"Whatever you do, don't turn around."

"Does anyone care that I am feeling a little uncomfortable right now?"

"Hey, you. Yes, you Mr. Woolly. This is as close as you're getting to me."

Dream kitchen

2008-11-09T19:47:00.001-05:00

Please tell me I am not alone in fantasizing about my dream home. When I have trouble falling asleep, which admittedly does not occur often, one of my favorite pastimes is to mentally design my dream house. I would have said home built exactly to my specifications, after I won one of those obscene, gazillion dollar lotteries, of course.
Donna at Southern Sass is house hunting and looking for kitchen inspirations. I discovered that building and decorating my ideal kitchen would not as simple as it is in my daydreams. Apparently, I have pretty select, aka picky, taste. I want a warm and lived-in feeling to my kitchen. Something with mismatched cabinets, exposed beams and weathered furniture for storage. While this kitchen does not meet all my requirements, I am a monumental fan of the sink, backsplash, cabinets, cabinet hardware and especially the oven.

This one looks cozy. I like the corner sink idea.

My heart just skipped a beat. All together now... exposed brick.

On the "must" on my list is a butler's pantry.

Love the dark wood and marble combo. Even though I am a bit more of a casual gal, I suppose I could live with this.

Le sigh.

Analogy between the importance of voting and sippy cups

2008-11-07T10:51:00.002-05:00

Tuesday morning Butterbean and I had a very serious discussion as I was getting dressed for work and she sat on the bathroom floor drinking milk out of her sippy cup.

Me: Today is a very important day because today Mommy and Daddy will vote for the President of the United States of America. When you turn 18, you will register to vote and vote in elections, too. It's very important for you to exercise the right to vote because women and minorities didn't always have that right in the United States. And in some places in the world, they still do not have that right.

Butterbean: sip, sip

Me: Can you imagine if you wanted to drink out of your green sippy cup and someone told you that you had no choice but to drink out of your yellow sippy cup? How horrible would that be?? By voting, we have choices and freedoms available to us.

Hot Lover (interjecting from the shower): I don't know of any countries who mandate sippy cup colors.

Me (scowl at shower door): Point taken. But if you want to drink some milk, Mommy has the right to just go to the store and buy it for you. In some places in the world, people cannot drink milk if they want to and sometimes they even have milk and someone takes it away from them.

Me (shouting towards shower door): Don't even go there! I have this one covered.

Butterbean: sip, sip.

At least I am starting early.

2008-11-04T13:30:00.000-05:00

Why vote? Because we can.

Wordless Monday

2008-10-27T14:28:00.002-04:00

Just because I am brain dead and I think my kid is cute.

Sixth from six

2008-10-14T08:52:00.003-04:00

I've been tagged! Lisa from Diapers & Wine tagged me for a fun meme. Here's the scoop: take the sixth photo from your sixth album and post it with a brief description and the story behind it. Here's my sixth of the sixth:

This is actually a pretty important picture to me. It was taken on our way home from the hospital with Butterbean after she was born. We were a bundle of nerves from the excitement, the adrenalin rush and, of course, the uncertainty. Hot Lover was driving so very carefully and I sat in the back with BB, nervous that she would freak at any moment sitting in Atlanta traffic. But she did just fine. She sat there for a short period of time, as the picture reflects, then peacefully dozed the rest of the way. Until we got home, that is. Look at her, so serene while she gazes into the lens of my camera in this picture. We would later ask ourselves, what happened to that docile little creature that was so calm and content in the hospital? In hindsight, I now know that as this picture was shot, she was in the planning stages of her intricate and ruthless method of attack.

The hair

2008-10-13T12:21:00.002-04:00

My poor baby has my hair. It is absolutely adorable. It is now, at least. Soft, blonde curls, shimmering in the sunlight. What could be cuter?

In a few years, she will find that those curls are not nearly as soft. In fact, they will be wiry and circle her head quite haphazardly with a fine layer of frizz at even a hint of humidity or rain on the horizon. More than likely, she will follow the path her mother has already carved: the path of hair straightening. I often tell her that I think her curls are lovely, but should she ever decide someday she would like them straightened, mommy is an expert and would be happy to lend a helping hand. Her reply? Promptly picking a dog bone off the ground and putting it in her mouth.

I suppose a 15 month old isn't really concerned about matters such as these just yet.