Felice Anno Nuovo

This post will be similar to my Merry Christmas in other languages post except I'll be mentioning how to say Happy New Year in other dialects.

Cymraeg (Welsh) say Blwyddyn Newydd Dda. Vowels need not apply.

Estonians say Head uut aastat! Where exactly they're heading out to in the New Year, only they know.

Laotians say Sabai dee pee mai. Many mai tais make you pee.

Philippines say Manigong Bagong Taon. Bang a gong.


Happy New Year everyone! Or as the Dutch would say GELUKKIG NIEUWJAAR!





 *Note: Many thanks to www.happywink.org for providing the languages.
**My views are my own and meant to entertain. Apologies to anyone I may have offended.

Me and the rest of the wackos

As if I didn't get enough of all the shopping and crowds of people before Christmas, I was out today trying to cash in on the after-holiday sales. Me and the rest of the post-seasonal wackos.

The stores were busy and you could tell the spirit of the season had vanished like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Well wishes and happy holiday smiles were replaced with shouting and cursing. And that's just the employees.

Many shoppers were picking through Christmas merchandise like pirates looting for treasure. You might wonder why I was there in the thick of all that madness. Was I off my medication? Did I drink some spiked egg nog? Was I following through on a dare to see if I could stand being around throngs of people in a sea of seasonal sales insanity? No. No. And no.

The answer is simple. I like a good bargain and I always hit up the stores for supplies like wrapping paper and gift tags for next Christmas. Thriftiness outweighs the good sense to steer clear of stores after the holidays. Besides, I can exercise patience when I have to. I consider it a random act of kindness when I don't lose my shit on some idiot blocking the aisle I need to go down while they try to decide which leftover, cheesy, glitter-covered snowman ornament to buy.

Thank the heavens I had nothing to return because I'd sooner keep whatever crap was given to me that I didn't want/need/like than wait on that monstrous line.

Yes, I took part in these.

Not everyone celebrates Christmas but most of them have probably paid their cell phone bills already

Oh, you're Jewish? I'm sorry

I was talking to a fellow volunteer last week and I asked her if she was ready for Christmas. Then she said, No, I still have to get a few Hannukah gifts. And I was like I'm sorry. And then I had to clarify exactly why I was sorry. So I quickly explained that I wasn't sorry she was Jewish but I was sorry that I assumed she celebrated Christmas. Oy.


----------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello this is the United States calling

I haven't paid my cell phone bill yet because I figured if the world is ending, why bother. I'd like to call Japan and Sri Lanka and run up the bill, too. But I don't know anyone in either place so that ends that. Plus, if the world really doesn't end I'll have a huge phone bill and Bill will be like, Why did you call Japan and Sri Lanka? And I really don't want to answer for my phone calls. Somehow I think, because I felt like it wouldn't go over very well.

Making merry around the world

Just for the hell of it I decided to look up how to say Merry Christmas in other languages. I was bored and curious, which is a dangerous combination to say the least but sometimes yields interesting results.

Case in point: Jutdlime pivdluarit ukiortame pivdluaritlo! That's Merry Christmas in Eskimo, although it sounds more like something I would yell at other drivers during traffic. Jutdlime to you and oh yeah! your directional is still on butthead!

In Japanese, Merry Christmas sounds very authoritative. Kurisumasu Omedeto! I picture someone in a kimono with a sharp knife and in that case I promise to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas ever. Domo Arigato.

The Jiberish say Mithag Crithagsigathmithags. I think this is just plain cruel for those with lisps. Also, who would've though Jiberish was an actual language? These be my peeps!

Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way to say Merry Christmas to you. And now I have that song in my head. And a a desire to watch 'Christmas Vacation'.

The Galician's say Bo Nada, which makes me think that Bo was on the naughty list this year and got nothing. Not even coal.

Seriously, however you choose to say it and celebrate it, may your Christmas be free of threatening knives, tongue twisters and may you get more than Bo.


*Note: Many thanks to santas.net for providing the languages.
**My views are my own and meant to entertain. Apologies to anyone I may have offended.

Thanks a lot, Mayans

This year, for the first time ever I am on top of all things Christmas.

Cards. Almost done and being sent out this weekend.
Shopping. Almost done.
Wrapping. Begun.

This is a big deal for me because I'm usually out with all the other nuts buying things at the last minute (we're talking Christmas eve day) like a mad woman. And every year I swear that next Christmas I will be better prepared. Kinda like being hung over and pukey the day after a lot of drinking and swearing that you'll never ever drink again.

This year is different. I am fully prepared. I'm talking lists. And notes. I'm so organized it's frightening. Even Bill is a little wary. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe he prefers me to be a stark-raving holiday lunatic.


However, and it figures, that the one year I am so ready for Christmas, the world is coming to an end four days before. So. Not. Fair. Thanks a lot, Mayans!

The Neighbors

Across the street lives a couple and the husband's father, Karl. They're from back East like us so anytime we all get to chatting it's like a hometown gathering. I love Karl. He's an old coot who swears and gets crotchety. I love him! And thankfully he likes us.

Sometimes when I look out the window I ask aloud (to no one in particular) Karl, where are you? It's a nice day out. When I do see him outside I'll announce (again, to no one in particular) Karl's outside. If days, or more than a week go by and I don't see him around I start to wonder what's happened. Is he okay? Should I go over, ring the doorbell and make sure all is well? And then a day or so later he'll be out pulling weeds, or sweeping and I think Oh, there he is!

When I lived at home back in NJ, we had some strange neighbors. The husband was always at home and the wife was always busy working. We could see her coming and going, briefcase in hand.

Then one day we didn't see her anymore. I was convinced the husband killed her and buried her in the backyard. I tried to look for a freshly dug grave from my bedroom window but I couldn't see the entire yard. And then, just as suddenly, she re-appeared and we would see her coming and going again.

I wonder if our neighbors keep tabs on what goes on with us. Or maybe I just have too much time on my hands. And an over-active imagination.

The Turkey-O-Lantern or Turkin

Some of you might remember the Hide the Turkey contest that Little Man's school does every year. This year he disguised the turkey as a pumpkin complete with orange appearance and triangle eyes and a stem as a hat. Chris even wrote Boo, Happy Halloween on the sign it was holding.

It was a turkey pretending to be a jack-o-lantern or a turkey-o-lantern, or a turkey that looked like a pumpkin, a turkin. What? It's funny!

Sadly, he didn't win any prize. He did get a pencil for participating. A winning ribbon would have been better. Just sayin'...as a mom, ya know?

Our original disguise was the Hulk and we were going to color him green and put ripped fabric on his legs to resemble torn pants. But then Chris changed his mind and good thing too, because he told me there were several other turkeys pretending to be the Incredible Hulk.  

Anyway, we already have a game plan for next year's turkey but I won't mention it here. You never know when other turkey fugitive enablers might be lurking about. Actually I'm sworn to secrecy and we only speak about it in hushed tones. I think next year's contest will be taken to a whole new level of competitiveness.

My car tried to kill me, and oh yeah, I'm on Christmas shopping overload

So I let another week go by without any new posts. But, I promise there's a funny story here to make you laugh at me. And also, forgive me, hopefully. You're welcome and thank you.

Thanksgiving has come and gone and except for an incident in which the turkey juice spilled out into the oven, resulting in a lot of smoke when we tried to bake the dinner rolls, it all went well. This isn't the funny story and it also wasn't my fault. No really, my brother gets that honor but since he so fabulously cleaned the oven it's all good.

This year I joined the masses and went out shopping on Black Friday. However, I didn't stand on line for hours or wake up at some ungodly hour. Instead I went late afternoon and had a surprisingly pleasant experience. Until my car tried to kill me. Here's what happened:

I was driving to one of the stores on my route. It was a gorgeous night out so I had on my light-weight long length jean jacket. At a red light I took my cell phone out of my back pocket because lately if I sit on it, the damn thing unceremoniously shuts off on me and I walk around thinking my phone is on and I can receive calls but when I go to check the time or make a call I see that it's actually off. Annoying.

When I got to the store I did what all normal people do. Parked the car, opened the door, got out, and shut the door. Only instead of walking away to the store, I was slammed against my car. No, I do not drive Christine. Apparently, my long jacket had gotten caught in the seat belt when I removed my cell phone. So in essence, my cell phone and jacket conspired with my car to kill me. Thanks a lot creepers! I shared my story with Bill who just shook his head and muttered "Only you." My mom on the other hand laughed. Out loud. Thanks for the sympathy, guys.

Anyway, I have been closely watching the Black Friday, Pre-Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales online. We're talking 7 open windows at a time and lots of price comparing. There's good deals to be had, my friends. Good deals. And eyestrain, but we won't go into that lest I be called an amateur. I'm trying real hard to stay ahead of the curve this year so I'm not out shopping like a crazy person on   Christmas Eve. I actually have a game plan. And a list! With notes and comments and pretty colors! I'm on Christmas shopping overload!!

My arm had a baby

I haven't posted anything new here in a week. Sorry, really I am. But the pinched nerve in my neck became aggravated and it hurt like a mutha to use my right arm.

Bill asked me to describe the pain and I said it was kinda like childbirth but in my right arm, so basically it felt like my arm was having a baby. Only it didn't because that would make me an alien. Or a circus freak.

Although my arm is feeling better and not throbbing, it's still a dull, achy nuisance. I can't exactly keep it quiet because I'm right arm-dominant. So when I sit I have pillows propped up on my right side and I look like a lopsided hunchback on a break.

Bill cracked my back a few times which helped and made me grunt and yelp so I'm sure the neighbors think I'm either moving furniture or contorting myself in some odd yoga pose.

More fun posts to come including this year's entry into the Hide the Turkey contest.

Walk this way

Cue Aerosmith...


Today I got up at stupid o'clock (okay maybe not, it was just 7:00 am) and dressed warmly (in Vegas? Yes, I know!) and joined thousands of other people in the Annual JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes.

As anyone who knows me and reads my blog knows, my Little Man is a type 1 diabetic. So today, he and I walked side by side along with his grandfather to support further research, funding and hopefully soon, a cure. Chris named our team, Team Lightning.

This was our first walk and it was a lot of fun. Of course I knew it would be since I spent many volunteer hours putting certain aspects of it together. Signs along the route? That was me. Carnival game prizes? Me. Goodie bags at the last checkpoint? Me, again. Oh and if anyone didn't get a bag of cheese fries in their goodie bag...sorry. But know that they were quite delicious as I sampled in the office. 

The walk itself was 5k or 3.1 miles and by the end my calves were feeling every bit of it. Okay, so maybe I'm a little out of shape. At least we didn't cut through any short cuts, so I should be given some credit. Plus I have a little cold so there's that.

Seriously though, the walk was easy. Diabetes is hard, but strides are being taken to make it less so.

My favorite holiday

So Daylight Saving Time ended this past weekend here in the U.S. This means that it now gets dark earlier at night because we set our clocks back an hour.

This is sorta depressing because now when I look outside at 5:30 pm, the sun is setting and it's night. You would think I'd prefer this since I'm a night owl who stays up way too late but actually, I prefer the longer summer days. Weird, I know.

So the night when DST ended, Bill said to me, "Hey, it's your favorite holiday! You get an extra hour of sleep tonight!"

Thanks, smart ass.

Conquering fears

For the longest time, Christopher has wanted to do rock wall climbing. He would approach it, and I would almost buy the ticket or pay the money before he chickened out. Yesterday he conquered his fears and climbed a rock wall. Not once, but twice! We were very proud.

Reaching the top of the Easy Climb

The people who ran this event at the Las Vegas Balloon Festival & Carnival (which benefits the LVMPD Search & Rescue - w00t!) were very cool and let him try out the Medium Climb right after he not-so-gracefully rappelled down from the easy part.

I want to do this, too, however, I'm not so fearless. And not nearly as agile. And would probably need a change of underwear after.

Trick-or-Treat

Very cool but unusual Halloween video

Changing my name

I'm changing my name. And yes it has everything to do with the recent hurricane which has seriously impacted the Northeast. I'm taking a page from Prince. Thus I shall be referred to as "The Woman Formerly Known As Sandy". I haven't come up with a proper symbol yet, but I'm working on it.


And I don't remember anyone asking me for permission to use my name. There are at least 60 other names beginning with "S" that could have been used. I know because I counted. I considered suing but I figured they might tell me to "blow it out my rear" and considering how much damage the wind has already done with its blowing, it might be best to let this go.

I told my mom it was her fault for naming me. Then she reminded me that my given name is actually Sandra so my argument was invalid. She says Po-tay-to, I say Po-tah-to.

At one point last night, Bill told me "I" had been downgraded. This made me happy as I immediately thought of lessening winds and rain and this whole thing quickly going away. Then he explained that I was no longer a hurricane and instead just a pain-in-the-ass. Thanks a lot, funny man. 

Juliet famously asked, "What's in a name...?" Oh Juliet, you were at odds because of your family name. My name was tagged onto a hurricane. And not just any hurricane either, oh no, this one goes down in the books. Hurricane Sandy couldn't just turn into a little tropical storm that blew out to sea leaving everyone in its possible path to rejoice. Of course not.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the corner cursing my namesake with the Katrinas and Irenes.


*Note: In all seriousness, I'm from NJ and watching so many places that I am personally familiar with be devastated was and is disheartening. My thoughts and prayers to all those affected.

A witch, a baby, Flo and Mayhem

Every now and then a commercial gets made that makes me want to high-five the advertising team who developed it. Geico's recent ad featuring a witch flying in a broom factory is one of them. It makes me laugh every time I see it. It's cute and timely with Halloween coming.

I like a lot of the insurance ads. I'm a fan of Flo from Progressive. Not all her commercials are great, but for the most part they're good. Bill prefers Mayhem from Allstate.

My all time fave commercials feature the E-trade baby. This one makes me giggle.

Now, I'm not advocating for these companies and I don't do business with them. They just make me laugh and not want to grab the remote and change the channel at break-neck speed.

Anyone out there have a favorite ad on television?  Share please!

Little Man, The Great Pumpkin and Me

It makes me so insanely happy when I can share something of my childhood with Christopher, especially when he enjoys it as much as I did/still do.

Tonight we watched "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" as we do every year just before Halloween. He loves to watch Snoopy fight the Red Baron. I love to watch him as much as I love to watch the show.

I'm a big fan of Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang. I've watched their holiday specials every year without fail ever since I was a little lady. I know them by heart, yet I never tire of watching them.

After Chris was born I was excited to share my favorite comic strip pals with him. He loved them, too. Of course there was a period when he was about 4 when he watched The Great Pumpkin repeatedly. It was a long October. And November. Until December came and I persuaded him to watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas" instead. Still, I never minded. We might've driven Bill a little crazy but that's why we have more than one room in the house. And more than one TV.

 It isn't officially Fall or Halloween until I watch The Great Pumpkin. Linus was wrong. You really can discuss the Great Pumpkin with people.

I am Iron Man

Yesterday Little Man and I went to a Halloween event sponsored by JDRF. This was a fun way to teach healthy eating habits for type 1 diabetics. There were games and snacks and a costume contest.

He dressed up as Iron Man complete with muscles (foam padding) in the suit, the power gloves and mask. We walked up to the judges' table and the first lady said, "Oh, it's a Transformer."

What?

Chris and I spoke at the same time. "He's Iron Man," I said. "No, I'm Iron Man," he said calmly.

But I read between the lines. He looked unamused and a bit confused by this woman's mistake. His look said, "Lady I'm a Marvel super hero NOT a Transformer. Jeez."

My inner dialogue went like this: "A Transformer? Really? They are so last year. Does the Avengers ring a bell? Hello? Jeez."

Chris ended up winning 2nd place in the best super hero category. Must've been the fact that the mechanical heart in the center of his chest lit up. And that the other judges were smarter more hip.

My take on vampires

I'm very picky about my bloodsuckers. Thanks to romantic old-school notions and Anne Rice, there are only 2 vamps I really dig - Dracula and Lestat. Okay, 3 if you count Caleb from the now defunct soap "Port Charles".

I've only ever seen a handful of "True Blood" episodes and I've never read a Charlaine Harris book. And I will probably never read any of the "Twilight" books either. I once caught about 5 minutes of the first movie in the series and I wanted to gouge my eyes out. With a rusty spoon. Vampires are not supposed to sparkle! They're dark and fangy and badass.

When I think of a bloodsucker, I think of black capes and pale skin, like Bela Lugosi in the stereotypical role. "Look into my eyes..." and all that.

Bela Lugosi as Dracula

And then there's the Vampire Chronicles, which basically ruined me for all other vamps. What can I say? I'm a vampire snob. Sure I can enjoy a good vampire movie now and then. But I reserve my neck for just my faves.

However, I'm sure if I ever came face-to-face with a vampire I'd be scared to death and it would be a horrible, bloody, messy, unromantic death on my part. Or, as my luck would have it, I'd get bitten by an unattractive, monstrous beast of a vampire and not a sexy, dressed in black, looking-to-seduce-with-a-bite hottie. Either way would suck...haha.

Sexy vampire...please bite me

 

What would probably end up biting me

Halloween humor

Some funnies for Halloweenie.

 

Three vampires went into a bar and sat down.
The barmaid came over to take their orders.
"And what would you, er, gentlemen like tonight?"

The first vampire said, "I'll have a mug of blood."
The second vampire said, "I'll have a mug of blood."

The third vampire shook his head at his companions
and said, "I will have a glass of plasma."

The barmaid wrote down each order, went to the
bar and called to the bartender,
"Two bloods and a blood light."

(thanks to jokelibrary.net)

Las Vegas Woman

Over the summer I submitted an article to a local magazine on tips for helping parents adjust to life with a newly diagnosed diabetic child.

Guess what??

They published it!!  My article, "Caring for Your Child's Diabetes is a family affair" appears in the Fall issue of Las Vegas Woman.  Read it here.

And now you'll have to excuse me, I'm very excited. (Does the Snoopy happy dance).

Reading + Tired = what happened?

It's never a good idea for me to read when I'm really tired because when I continue where I left off nothing makes sense. Then I have to go back whole paragraphs or even pages to jog my memory. Then I swear to myself to never do this again. I say to myself, "Self, next time we are tired and droopy lidded, put the book down." But that never lasts because I inevitably force myself to read past that point because I so want to know what happens next. Do you see the problem?

One time I was convinced the husband was playing a prank on me and had moved my bookmark. I even questioned him in that trying-not-to-sound-accusing, but still curious way. "Did you touch my book?"

Of course he looked at me with that puzzled, you-must-be-insane look. I'd like to think that's more because he knows better than to mess with my books and not because he really thinks I'm a crazed, book-reading psycho.

This whole scenario especially sucks when I'm reading a long tome like Stephen King's "11/22/63" where time travel is involved. Okay, that did happen. And I had to re-trace my reading because I had no idea where the main character was and how he got there. It's a credit to the authors because their books are so hard to put down.

Maybe for future late-night reading I should ingest more caffeine. Or read someplace less comfortable than my bed. Like the rack used in the Addams Family basement. And then I could pull the butler bell and summon Lurch and after he said, "You rang." I would ask him to bring me a pillow and blanket. Which defeats the whole purpose but I've always wanted to summon my own Lurch-like butler.

Almost Halloween. Sort of.

Yay! It's October. And that means Halloween is right around the corner. If the corner was 30 days away.

Still, I'm excited for cooler temps, pumpkins and trick-or-treating. More for the treating because...free candy! And of course I'm talking about the candy that Little Man shares with me or doesn't like to eat. Yes, he has least favorites.

Anyway, I thought about doing a holiday post a day featuring Halloween themed topics but let's face it, I can barely be counted on to write daily posts as it is, so why place such an awesome burden on my shoulders. Right?  However, there will be some Halloweenish type posts made throughout the month. I think. I hope.

In the meantime, I'll leave you this cute little holiday poem:

Waiting to get pumped

In 12 days, Chris goes to see his endocrinologist for his 3 month check up. Hopefully this time, his A1c levels will be down enough to get approved for an insulin pump.

[For those not in the know, an insulin pump is an alternative to multiple daily injections of insulin by syringe or pen. The A1c test -- also called HbA1c - is an important blood test used to determine how well your diabetes is being controlled.]

At his previous 2 doctor visits, his levels were a bit too high to be approved. The crappy thing is that his blood glucose levels had been excellent until just a couple weeks before. And it's nothing that he did wrong either.

I hate that about this disease. When his levels are above 200 he gets upset, like he's disappointed with himself, like he did something wrong. And I have to reassure him that it's okay. It's not his fault.

Going on an insulin pump will mean more freedom for Chris because he can administer his insulin when we are out without having to bring along all his supplies. It is also more discreet and according to other type 1 diabetics, it's more accurate.

Of course, we'll all have to get schooled in how to use this new device. I just hope it makes Chris's life a little easier.

For now, I'll keep my fingers crossed that his levels stay low so he can move on to the next phase of managing his diabetes.

An everyday hero

While Little Man and I were at the park tonight, one of his friends fell off her scooter and scraped up her knee and hands pretty badly. This happened when we were leaving and walking to our car. She was crouched on the ground and at first it looked like she was hiding from someone but we decided to go over and make sure she was alright anyway. That's when we saw she was hurt.

I helped her up and walked her over to her dad and Chris walked her scooter back for her.  Then Chris ran to get some toilet paper from the bathroom so I could help clean up the cuts. All the while Chris was reassuring her that she would be fine.

Once she calmed down, we walked her, her brother and father all back to their car, with Chris again walking her scooter for her.

I was so proud of how sweet and compassionate he was toward her. And I told him he was a good friend.  Then he said, "Hey Mom, I'm like an everyday hero, like what we celebrate in school."  Yes, you are, Little Man. Yes you are.

The zombie finger

I might have ring strangulation. I've thought this for a while but have been too skeered to do something about it.

You see, my wedding band always fit just right, which I thought was perfect so I wouldn't have to worry about it getting loose due to finger shrinkage from cold weather and falling off. When we bought our wedding rings I put this one on and said, "Yep this is it." It's nothing fancy. Just a plain gold band but it means the world to me. We had been to many jewelry stores seeking rings that were "us" and in the end simple won out.

Fast forward seven years later and I'm pregnant. Yes, you guessed it. When everything else started to swell up like my ankles, my boobs and my stomach, my fingers were included. Since then I haven't been able to remove it. It won't budge past the first knuckle.

My mom said, "Oh that's normal. Look at mine, I haven't been able to take my ring off for years." So you're saying that this round indentation that my ring leaves is perfectly fine, Mom? I can slide my ring back a little and that's when I see the mark left behind. My finger doesn't turn blue or purple (except when I'm coloring with Little Man and we use markers) so that's a good thing.

My only concern is, exactly how would they go about removing my ring from my finger without causing injury to my finger? And what about the ring itself? Would they have to cut it? And would that be considered a bad omen? And just who is "they" anyway? Do I go to a jeweler? A doctor? Is there a ring removal specialist?

Maybe I'll just let it be. Until my finger swells up and turns a sickly green. Then I can run around screaming, "I have a zombie finger!" and freak people out. Do I know how to turn a bad situation into something cool, or what?

This seems a bit extreme for removing a ring, no?

Do nothing

I've been in a funk for the last two days. It should pass but in the meantime there's nothing new to report. So, I thought I'd share another Internet time-waster, along the lines of Virtual bubble wrap and Door stopper fun. Listen to the ocean waves and do nothing for 2 minutes.

I love when a website gives you permission to do absolutely nothing. Not that I need a website to tell me that. They actually time you to see if you can just sit there. Never mind that a red FAIL sign popped up during my first 10 seconds because I moved my cursor a little. By accident. Stupid, judgey site!

Enjoy your 2 minutes of doing nothing.

Around town

Yesterday me and the men ran a few errands during the day. Here are some things we encountered along with my comments (both vocal and silent).

On our way inside the library we were approached by two groups. The first was a couple kids asking if we wanted to buy coupons for their car washing fundraiser. Without hesitation I said I couldn't because mine was a stolen vehicle but thanks anyway. They stood there for a minute and then giggled. Husband shook his head and Little Man laughed. Obviously (and thankfully) they didn't take me seriously because Metro never showed up to arrest me. I should watch what I say more carefully because my brand of humor is often lost on people. Like the time the cashier at Barnes & Noble asked my mother if she needed help and she replied that she was with me and I told the cashier I never saw her (my mother) before and that she was following me throughout the store. (I was kidding, Mom!) She still brings that up to this day.

The second set of people outside the library were asking us if we were registered to vote. These people are like the Salvation Army at Christmas, they're Everywhere! Except without the bell ringing. I think they need a gimmick to attract more people like free food or drinks. Can you tell I was a little hungry?
 
Coming back from the library we passed a Christian Church with a banner outside proclaiming, "Love God, Love People". I'm good with the first part. But some people are just such shits that I have a little trouble with that second part. I think the banner would work better if it said, "Love God, Tolerate People or at least try not to physically harm them even though most deserve it".  Honesty people!

Never forget

End of Summer wrap-up

This past Monday was Labor Day which traditionally means the end of Summer.  Summer in Las Vegas is extended by about 6 weeks which gives it the term "Groundhog Summer".

I don't mind. I get to wear my shorts and flip flops a bit longer. The pools haven't officially closed yet and it's still hot.

Anyway, I thought I would do a wrap-up of some of the fun things I did with the fam. this summer. A few were posted in my blog and some weren't. It will also give me a chance to re-live some of the memories. Come along...

There was lots of swimming and sunning. We spent pool time at a few hotel pools and aquatic/rec centers. Next year a water park will be opening about 10 minutes away from us so I'm sure we'll be spending time (and $$) there. [note to self: start saving for season passes]

We saw lots of cool movies. "Avengers", "Dark Knight Rises", "Magic Mike". What? I saw that while Bill and Little Man went to see "The Amazing Spiderman". Both involved guys and quick changes of clothing so it was almost like the same movie.

There was outdoor grilling and many nights at the local park where Little Man met up and played with his friends. 4th of July featured a fabulous fireworks show by Bill and Christopher and of course there was Chris' summer birthday.

It was a lot of fun and although I would normally be mourning the passing of summer I get to enjoy it a wee bit longer out here in the desert. Which makes the still hot as Hades weather, worth it. At least to me.

Late night eating

It happened again.

I was about 30-45 minutes from going to sleep. Well, that was my goal because I was still on my laptop doing computer-ey things.

And then, the snack craving hit. I tried to ignore it really I did. I drank some water, which I keep on my nightstand. I played a game or 2, or 3 of Mahjong. But then Bill got up and went to the bedroom door. And I asked, "Where are you going?" And he answered, "Why? What do you need?" Which on the surface sounds so "aww how sweet of him" but really he means "what do you need so suddenly that you had to wait till I got up to ask?" So I replied, "Nothing." And then he told me he was going downstairs which made me happy because now I had some company to go with me for my late-night snack. So, in all actuality, this is all His fault because if he didn't have to go downstairs I would never have tagged along and eaten that poptart, handful of pretzel combos (because ya know...sweet and salty go hand-in-hand) and washed it all down with some Pepsi.

As I sat there in the kitchen snacking I felt a little guilty because I know the rules about not eating late at night especially since that bit of weight I'm trying to lose ain't leaving any time soon. And, because I know you shouldn't eat salted foods during that time of the month since it adds to water bloat and cramps and blah blah but dammit it all tasted so good and I don't really give in to late night eats very often so I'll just down some more Advil and do extra stomach crunches (don't laugh. I do them, when I remember).

Anyway, I sat there binging and feeling like a meth addict getting high in a dirty bathroom. The only thing missing was the meth. And the drug paraphernalia. And a dirty bathroom. Okay, maybe not the bathroom, but in my defense I was in my clean kitchen and the bathroom is clean enough so I'm not embarrassed but I wouldn't eat off the floor.

The thought also crossed my mind that my plan to go to sleep at a decent hour has been hi-jacked. But maybe once this mini sugar-high wears off, the inevitable crash that follows will be enough to get me right to sleep. Problem solved.

I still blame Bill. Thanks a lot husband dude! I could be sleeping now, but nooooo you had to go downstairs. 

That darn sweet tooth!

Tonight I talked myself out of eating an ice cream sandwich. I am both proud of and disappointed in myself. Proud that I was able to not give in to a food craving and disappointed that I didn't allow myself to indulge in a yummy food treat.

This lasted all of 10 minutes.

Then I went downstairs and promptly had a s'mores pop tart. Again I was both proud and disappointed but for reverse reasons.

I am a foodie conundrum. And I blame it all on my sweet tooth. Damn sugar-crazy molar!!

At least this time I didn't follow up my pop tarted goodness with some chips. Usually I need something salty after eating something sweet. For this, I blame my salt-loving taste bud. I think she just gets jealous of the attention my sweet tooth gets and wants in. They're like petty children.

Stupid mouth! Always causing a problem. Too small, overcrowded with teeth, bickering tastes. Jeez!

The last single digit

Today is Little Man's birthday. He's 9.

And in the midst of presents and singing the Happy Birthday song and remembering his birth I realized that this is the last single digit year of his life. This made me both sad and proud.

I'm sad because like so many other parents, I feel like time is going so quickly. I mean, wasn't he just two and watching "Finding Nemo" endlessly? I can still quote the movie from start to finish thanks to that phase he went through. But seriously, 9? Already?

On the other hand, I'm proud. He's becoming a fine little man who has a quick smile, a charming personality and a love of all things action hero-related. Sometimes his diabetes makes him act and seem older than he is. And there are times when he says mature things that no other child would. But then he does something silly and childish and I think, he's only 9 years old. And that's just fine with me.

Happy 9th Birthday Chris.

To wear or not to wear: Part 2

This past Monday and Tuesday we took Chris to some area pools for some swimming fun before school starts again.

Monday we were at Red Rock and Tuesday we were at a local aquatic center. In between swimming and relaxing and just generally having fun I spent some time gawking at what other people wore. Do people seriously look in the mirror and think, "Yeah, I look goooood."?

This prompted me to make another list of acceptable/unacceptable clothing to wear while swimming at the local pool.

Men should wear swim trunks. Period. End of story. Knee length speedos are not attractive. Ever. Neither are short shorts that look as if the man borrowed his wife's bathing suit bottoms. We are not in the South of France, people! I do not want to see all your junk wrapped up tightly in a pair of inappropriate swim whatevers. Invest in board shorts like a normal guy!

Along those same lines I must ask this: Guys, young and older, why do you wear basketball shorts and underwear to go swimming? What is that all about? Doesn't that feel uncomfortable? Like you couldn't quite make it to the urinal in time?

It's bad enough I have to see them walking around on dry land with their pants down to their ankles, advertising to the world what underwear they are wearing. But really, at the pool, too? This isn't your own backyard pool or the local swimming hole in the woods. You're in public! Proper swim trunks are warranted.

Lastly, to the very pregnant woman who was there with her 6 kids (one of whom was wearing basketball shorts and underwear) please note that a bra is a bra and a bikini top is a bikini top. They may look similar and act similar but they are indeed very different. One you wear in private, under your clothes and one you can wear in public. Obviously you got confused about which is which.

The King and I

This post is in honor of the 35th Anniversary of Elvis Presley's death.

When we moved to Las Vegas from NJ three years ago, we drove and stopped at a few notable places. One of those places was Memphis where we took a tour of Graceland.  This had long been a dream of mine having been a fan of his music (and movies) since I was a little girl, thanks to my mom's influence (Thanks Mom!).

We were there a week before his death anniversary (deathiversary?), otherwise known as "Elvis Week". This is his grave, which they say is always decorated with stuffed animals, flowers and pictures left behind by devoted fans.

I was so excited to share that time with Billy (who isn't a big fan but arranged for us to stop there and was a huge sport by even taking pics) and with Little Man. Whenever Chris hears his music he recognizes him as "the guy who's house we visited, who's dead".

Here's me and Little Man walking from the stables on the property. Note the crutches and cast. Yes, well a week before our departure from NJ I fell down some stairs and broke my ankle so I hobbled along on this tour. I think I may have accidentally whacked a couple of people with my crutches inside the actual mansion. Sorry!

The man himself. One of many pics of Elvis displayed on the property.

Maybe one day I'll get back there and re-take the tour, sans cast & crutches. Maybe I'll even go during 'Elvis Week'. Then again, maybe not.


*Please do not copy or dup any of these pics without permission first. Thanks!

RSVP: It's more than just fancy French acronyms

According to acronymfinder.com, RSVP means Répondez S'il Vous Plaît (French: Reply, If You Please; commonly seen on invitations).

It doesn't matter if you knew that or not. Everyone who has ever gotten an invitation knows that RSVP means to reply, "Yes, I'll be there with bells on" or "No, sorry I have better plans" or some such excuse.

Whether or not you can come to a party/event/social misfit gathering the polite thing is to let the party host know. How hard is that?  

So how come the mom of two kids my son plays with at the park could not do this?

For Little Man's upcoming birthday we planned a movie party for today with a few of his closest friends. We chose a day when Bill would be off from work which coincided with that Mom's day off as well. Granted the kids seem a bit sheltered, we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

Nothing.

Oh it gets weirder. For the past week leading up to today they have not come to the park. Avoiding us? Not too obvious. If they didn't want to come, or couldn't afford a gift, we (Christopher in agreeance*) told them a gift was unnecessary as he just wanted his friends to be there and we would foot the bill for admission tickets. How much easier could it be?

Well, at least Little Man's best friend and other good, close pal were there and everyone had a good time.

Still, that type of rudeness gets me. It's up there with people who don't say 'Thank You' when you hold the door open for them. When did basic manners start to go the way of the dinosaur?




*I sent the Oxford Dictionary people an invitation to include this in their book and they never RSVP'd.

A few funnies someone sent me by email

I added the smart-alecky captions.

Kinda puts that whole "When one window closes, another one opens" into a whole new perspective.

Preach it, Sister!

My broomstick has Garmin!

Bookasaurus is on the loose!

Run for your lives!

Or, don't. It's your call.

But seriously, I have been devouring books lately. Not just reading but full-on eating them whole. I'm averaging a book every two days.

I realize there are people who read an entire book in one day but I at least allow myself to eat, go potty, see the fam. and oh yeah, sleep. If I didn't then I'd be a starving, cranky, reading zombie doing the pee-pee dance. No one wants that, believe me.

I'd much rather be a book-eating dinosaur. It sounds friendlier too, because who wouldn't want to hang out with a cute dino who just eats up books?

So, if you see me stomping around and rawring, just toss me a book. Or two. And some chocolate. Thanks!

Diabetes breaks my heart. Again.

Every night when I tuck Little Man into bed, we have 'Snuggly Time'. I kneel beside his bed and he lays on the edge. Sometimes he just holds my hand and other times he latches onto my arm. We talk and  giggle about silly stuff.

Tonight as I was preparing to say my final good night he said, "Mom, I don't want to have diabetes anymore."  I hugged him and whispered, "I know."

Then he said, "It hurts." And I held him closer and said, "I know, Baby." And my heart broke. Again.

The same way it breaks when I give him his insulin injection and he winces in pain or bleeds a little because I accidentally hit a vein. The same way it breaks when he gets frustrated while pricking his finger to check his blood/sugar levels. The same way it will always break for him because of this damn disease and how it affects him.

I pray for a cure for diabetes. I want his hurt to go away. I want to stop saying "I know" when I honestly don't.

Long time and time wasters

It's been a little over a week since my last blog post, which in the Blogosphere is like a lunar light year. Sorry?

In my defense I've been doing cool stuff with the Husband and Little Man (which I promise I will write about) and I've been reading. A lot. Not actually reading, more like swallowing books whole the way a baby swallows a spoonful of mashed gobbledygook without chewing, except the pages and words aren't seeping through my lips and running down my chin.

To make it up to you or whoever follows my blathering on of everything and anything, I present to you another time waster:


virtual-bubblewrap

It's almost as much fun as the real thing without the added benefit of annoying the nearest person in the room. Unless you have your speakers turned way up.

Pop on!

Of movies and videos

My heart goes out to the victims of the Colorado movie theater shooting. It was a senseless act of violence. However, major props to Christian Bale (Batman) for visiting the injured in the hospital. Way cool, dude. Way cool.

That said, we took the Little Man to see "The Dark Knight Rises" on Monday. The movie was great. However, I gotta say I felt a little...uneasy sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start.

But then I looked around at other people eating popcorn, chatting amongst themselves and it was business as usual. So I settled in with my guys and relaxed. We had a great time. And there are more good times to be had at movies in the future. I refuse to bow down to fear and stop enjoying myself.  I only hope that the survivors of the shooting do the same and are able to return to the movies for fun and escape.


In other not-so-entirely-unrelated news, we went to the Library on Tuesday and returned home with a couple books and some DVDs.

Bill went to put in one of the dvds and it was still in 'locked' position. Of course it was the one I was holding with my books. It was scanned to be borrowed, I just forgot to give it to them to unlock. Hey, I can't think of everything.

At this point it was too late to go back to the library, so we spent about half an hour trying to use house magnets to unlock the damn mechanism. No dice.

Thanks a lot stupid refrigerator magnets. You just stand there holding business cards until you're needed. So now, one of us has to go back to the library and unlock it so we can watch the darn thing.

Hi, yeah, um I need to unlock this dvd. We kinda sorta accidentally left without putting it through the big magnetic unlocking device. Okay, thank you. Sheepishly walks out all red-faced while library staff point and laugh.

I'll never be able to go there again unless I'm wearing a fake glasses and mustache disguise and overcoat and even then I'll probably be mistaken for a pervert. Or Groucho Marx.

See you in the funny papers.

Evil gnomes are attacking my desk

Monday mornings my desk (and I use the term loosely) is pretty neat. Bills that have been paid are filed away. Loose paper finds a home. Scraps and nonsense are tossed in the garbage. Even my pens and pencils are neatly put in their cute little cup holder. My mom would be proud. Okay, maybe she'd at least be pleased with the effort.


By the weekend it looks like someone broke in, ransacked the place, put everything back neatly but left my desk a scary mess. Upon further thinking I might not be far off the mark. Maybe I'm being targeted by evil desk gnomes who work for an underground faction that dislikes organization and neatness.

Of course I'll need to gather evidence to support my claim.

Maybe if I sprinkle powder around my desk, I'll find little gnome foot prints the next day. Or claws considering they're evil. Maybe forget the powder idea. Besides I'm not sure how I would explain what I was doing to Bill. He's not a gnome believer.

Why couldn't I be the focus of cute, little pixie neatniks who flutter about straightening files and papers while leaving behind magical  pixie dust? Then my desk would be tidy and we'd have magical dust to play with. A win-win situation all around.

Damn you evil desk gnomes and your messy hi-jinks!

Toys to die for

Yesterday we took Chris to Toys 'R Us because he's been a good kid lately, and he had a gift card (so it wasn't our money to be spent) and because he's been dying...dyyyyyyying for a Ninjago (Lego ninjas) toy. And us, being such awesome parents, gave into his wish.

When we walked in and came upon the Lego department that housed the desired toy(s), it was sensory overload.  Think of that scene in the movie, "Despicable Me"  where Agnes wants the stuffed unicorn.

Here's the clip: It's so fluffy I'm gonna diiiiie!  

Yeah, that's what it was like.

Anyway, Little Man's eyes were literally bugging out of his head. There were so many to choose from. He looked at each and every one.  To make a choice was agony.

Then we told him to walk around the store for a bit and check out the other toys. He looked at us in horror, as if we told him that it was all a cruel joke and he couldn't buy one. But we promised him he could come back and pick his favorite. Only then did he consent to come along with us. So we walked around looking at this and that and remarking at some of the over-the-top prices.

At one point I wandered away alone and came upon some new breed of ridiculous, over-priced, time-wasting entertainment meant to lure unsuspecting parents and gullible children into purchasing.

It's called the Ugly Doll and it's a stupid wind-up toy. And IT AMUSES ME TO NO END!

I love the blue bat, called the ice bat because it just hops around in a circle.  My other fave is the red bat but it just hops straight across.  Here's what they look like:

 The other wind-ups in the group just bend forward and then do a sudden surprise backwards flip. Not nearly as amusing. Sorry for the poor pic quality but I was using my cell phone, but yes that price is $4.99 for a silly wind up toy.  But I want it!!  It so amusing, I'm gonna diiiiiie!!!

It was a dark and stormy night

Well, not exactly. But it was dark (cause it was night time). And there was lightning. But that's all there was. This was last Wednesday night at about 1:30 am. (yes, I know, I go to bed way too late)

Bill and I watched the lightning with the window blinds wide open. It was awesome. It would have been even more awesome had there been thunder, but, I won't complain.

 Okay, maybe just a little complaint.

The thunderstorms here are really crappy. Almost not worth the effort. Take today's small storm, for example. The sky got really dark and there was some lightning.  I say 'some' because you could almost make yourself believe that you were blinking too much.  There were even a few claps of thunder, which were more like distant drum beats but okay, at least this time we got the full effect. But in like, five minutes it was over.

Back east this would serve as a prelude to a huge thunderstorm complete with lightning bright enough to make you think it was daylight and thunder so loud it made your whole house shake and set off car alarms.  It was thrilling and scary all at the same time. I miss that.

The forecast calls for more thunderstorms in the coming days. I'll have to wait and see exactly what that means.

On another not completely un-related note, I like the sentence that serves as the title to this post: "It was a dark and stormy night." Supposedly it's one of the worst opening lines to a novel (can't remember which), but it makes me laugh. Maybe because I like dark and stormy things, especially nights, or even nights that aren't dark and stormy but just night in general. Or maybe because it makes me think of Snoopy and the Peanuts gang.

Thanks but really, I got this

Recently some well-intentioned folks have been telling Little Man what he can and can't eat. (He's a diabetic, for those of you who don't remember or if you're a first time visitor, hey and welcome!)

Anyway, as I said, their intentions are good but they are uninformed. The old way of thinking was that diabetics can't eat sugar and other certain foods. From what we know, today, this, is incorrect. He can eat anything he wants and we just compensate with the proper insulin intake. Besides, we're counting carbohydrates, not sugar.

The first time it happened, he was at an event with his grandfather and they were serving all manner of fun, outdoorsy, barbecue food, which included S'mores. He wanted one and someone there said he couldn't have it because he was a diabetic. Little Man was slightly confused, but shrugged it off and had some fruit instead.

Then, at a different outing, he wanted some ice cream after a meal and a family friend said it wasn't a good idea and that he should eat better so he wouldn't need as much insulin because too much insulin is not good, blah blah blah. I tried to intervene but didn't want to get into a pissing contest with him (he would obviously win, he's a guy so his equipment let's his pee go further), so I dropped it.

Now, I do appreciate their concern, but I'm his mom, his primary diabetes caregiver, and a JDRF volunteer and advocate. Believe me when I say, I got this. I've been taught by diabetes educators on how to help manage his disease. I've read a lot of books and articles. I've talked with other parents of children with diabetes and I belong to several online diabetes social forums/groups. So I think I know what I'm doing when it comes to my kid.

And despite his age (8 going on 25), Chris is well aware of his disease and how to handle it and what he can eat. However, anyone can feel free to stop him from mixing Pop Rocks and Coca Cola, although I think that turned out to be an urban legend. And now I'm in the mood for something sweet. And crunchy.

Strange shoe-wearing rituals

If I want to wear shoes I haven't worn in a while I first shake them upside down to let anything creepy crawly fall out. Then I stick my hand inside just to make sure. This way whatever might be trapped inside will just bite or sting my fingers as opposed to my foot.

I know, it's weird. But it's better than just slipping my toes inside my sneakers/boots/shoes and getting surprised by some icky little critter hiding in there. One never knows.

Bill just laughs at me. Especially as I'm putting my hand inside my footwear. He seems to think it's funny that I would subject my hand to contact with something that has more legs than me, rather than my feet. I can't quite explain it, but it makes sense to me. At least I'm taking partial caution as opposed to him who just slips on his shoes and goes on his merry way. We'll see who's laughing when one day he throws on his sneakers and gets zapped by a bug-in-hiding. Better safe and silly than sorry.


*Please note that no harm is actually intended or wished upon my careless shoe-wearing husband. Any arachnids or insects found in his footwear is purely coincidental and unrelated to this post.

Moments of levity

I've posted before about my battles with depression and whatnot but I can say that despite it all, there are moments of levity.  For the most part I'm happy, but there are times when I let go and find myself smiling, almost floating, and I think, life is good.

I had two of those moments happen earlier this week. Monday we took Little Man to an Aquatic Center (think outdoor park with pools and water and 2 water slides) in a nearby town. He had a blast, especially since it was a complete surprise.

At one point I was sitting neck-deep in one of the pools, enjoying the cool water, hot sun, and blue skies. I closed my eyes, sighed and thought, yeah, life, is good.

Wednesday was the 4th of July.  And as last year, Chris put on a fireworks show (ground fireworks are legal here. Those that shoot in the sky, not so much but we had both. ssh!).  We all sat outside at dusk to watch as Chris and several other people on the street set off fireworks.

It was nice. And again, as I sat watching my son and husband shooting off fireworks (and having a blast..pun intended) I thought, life really is good.

So I got to thinking that I should look for more of the good in life and in my everyday, as opposed to the bad, or not-so-good stuff that I keep working to overcome. Maybe, in fact, life really is good and it's just my perception that's bad.  In either case, I hope to have more moments of true happiness and levity.

Feel free to share any aah, life is good moments that you have.

 

The running commentary in my head

Everyone has that little voice in their head. You know, the one that makes snarky comments, warns you about something or has a full on conversation with you? Yes, that one.


My little voice is more like a constant inner dialogue and it's sometimes very fresh. Funny, but fresh. I mean, I don't just people-watch, I people-comment. Not out loud, though. No, that would be very bad. I'd probably get cussed out. And beat up. And possibly arrested. So I keep my comments to myself. Sometimes I mutter them under my breath or I lean over and whisper to Bill.

I can't help myself.  The world is just so colorful. And some of the people are just so comment-worthy.

Hey, I know I am far from perfect.  Like, another planet kinda far. And I'm sure people comment about me. That's fine. I'm happy to get a walk-on part in someone else's running commentary. (Thank you for that.) I just hope that their voice eventually shuts up.  Because mine, never does!

Anyone else make snide, sarcastic comments to themselves about people and things?  I know I can't be the only one. Fess up people!!

To wear or not to wear

This past Monday and Tuesday we took Christopher out for the day to have some fun and because it was too hot to do anything else.

On Monday we went to Adventuredome, which is an amusement park inside Circus Circus Hotel/Casino.

Tuesday we all went to the Rio Hotel's Voodoo Beach, an outdoor pool/beach area. Chris had a blast both days. Moreso at the pool because what kid doesn't like splashing in the water with other kids?

I noticed on both days how inappropriately some parents dress while out with their children. Or how their wardrobe seemed incongruous with the weather. Uggs in 105 degrees? What are you thinking???

So I compiled a list of acceptable/unacceptable clothing. Please note, this is just my opinion and since I dress more or less for comfort than for style, take it with a grain of salt.

Wearing high heels, a tight skirt and an off-the-shoulder blouse is not conducive to walking your child around an indoor amusement park. Although, it might get your child a discount or more turns on the rides, in which case, the jokes on me and I'm digging out my mini skirt right now.

Men should only wear flip flops at the pool, the beach or at home. No one wants to see ugly men feet while grocery shopping. Or at an amusement park.

Speedos on men are never acceptable. Unless you're in Europe where toplessness and showing lots of skin is considered normal.  Or, if you're an underwear model.

High heeled open toe shoes at a pool surrounded by sand is not a smart idea what with all the sinking your heels will do. Unless you also wear them to the beach, in which case walk on with your bad self and your mini sink-hole making shoes.

I'm not a slave to fashion by any stretch. If it's hot I dress to be cool. If I'm going to be walking a lot I wear the right shoes and clothes so I'm not a hot, cranky, sore-footed mess at the end. I may end up a hot mess anyway but dangit I'm going to be comfortable doing so!

Happy Father's Day!

For Bill and my dad and all the other dads:

First day of summer break!

Today was the Little Man's  first day of summer vacation. And he did...nothing. Well, nothing terribly exciting. He watched some videos, played video games and went to the park in the evening. I thought it would be nice to let him unwind and veg out. He's got 10 more weeks in which to do some fun stuff.

Bill's 'weekend' is Monday and Tuesday so we plan to take some day trips to Lake Mead and some other places. And of course there's pool-hopping at some of the hotel pools. Little Man is a water baby and loves swimming in pools.

In other related news: I can't believe he's going into the 4th grade. Even scarier is that he has two more years in Elementary School before he becomes a Middle Schooler. Say wha????

A series of mishaps starring: Me!

So occasionally things happen to me, purely by accident, but nonetheless funny.  At least to me. Bill laughs, too, but it's usually accompanied by much head-shaking, followed by the words, "This could only happen to you."  I assure you, dear Husband, this cannot be the case.

A few examples:

Little Man and I were downstairs one day and I went to use the bathroom. He called to me with a question and I turned to answer him. Then I opened the door, turned on the light and walked in. Why am I in here?  I looked around confused. I was in the closet. What the hell?

I shut off the light, closed the door and went into the room that I really wanted, which was next to the closet. In my defense, I was distracted. Plus, lots of people mistake the closet for the bathroom. Let's just be glad I realized in time.



I'm sure there are other people who have put their underwear on inside out. It's an easy mistake and, once again, not my fault. Here's what happened: Bill did the laundry and folded and put away the clothes. When I grabbed my undies I put them on as usual. They were a pair of plain, red, cotton briefs. Nothing frilly or lacy. I went through the whole day until once while in the bathroom (another bathroom incident...weird) when I reached to pull them up I noticed the waistband felt different. That's when I saw they were inside out.

I laughed. Then I told Bill and he laughed. Then I said, "Thanks for folding my undies the wrong way!" And he replied, "You're welcome. Maybe next time you'll check before putting them on."  Gee, thanks for putting me in charge of micro-managing your laundry skills.

That's all for now. This will no doubt be an ongoing series of humiliating incidents with me. Stay tuned.

I would make a half-assed bat

And here's why: I don't see well in the dark. This would make the idiom "blind as a bat" true for me if only that phrase were true. I found the following on Animal.Discovery.com:

Are Bats Really Blind?
This saying has become a fixture of everyday vernacular and the assumption likely developed because bats primarily use a form of sonar to navigate through dark areas and avoid obstacles. However, their eyes, while small and sometimes poorly developed, are also completely functional, not to mention the fact that they have excellent hearing and sense of smell. 

Anyway, I could probably get by relying on my other senses, except my sense of smell would be compromised because my nose frequently battles allergies to breathe. And I lack the ability to use sonar for navigation although I have my trusty cell phone as a night light to get around.

I have most some of the necessary bat requirements pretty much covered. My wardrobe includes a lot of    dark clothing. Not in the goth sense more in the black-goes-with-everything sense. And I'm nocturnal in that I'm always up late at night. Probably because I have a bit of insomnia.


I also have good hearing and prefer to watch TV with the volume at a low level. Often when Bill sits down while I'm watching something he'll say, "Oh the bat is in the room again."  He likes the volume loud enough to broadcast to the neighborhood. It's a battle between us.

The only other problem I would have in being a bat is that I don't fly. Unless someone built me a wingman suit. And the whole sleeping upside down thing.  Not giving up my sleep number bed to hang from the ceiling of some dank cave. I draw the line there.

This whole post brought to you by the letter O, for Odd stuff that I think about when I can't sleep.

Evolution of the mom cold

I'm getting over bronchitis and laryngitis. I know, double ick! 

Here's what happened: Just before Memorial Day weekend, Little Man had the sniffles and a sore throat. He took some kid's meds and continued running around, playing video games and was feeling fine.

But, he shared.

That Sunday we were out most of the day and I was feeling a little meh but chalked it up to weather change (it was unseasonably cool for a few days) and allergies (lots of wind). I went to bed that night at such a ridiculously early time (9:30!!) with a headache, scratchy throat and sniffles.

Monday morning I was illin'. My throat was so sore it was like I swallowed razor blades in my sleep. I stayed in bed all day taking over-the-counter stuff and got up around dinner time to have some tea and a banana. On the bright side, I thought, cool I could stand to lose a few pounds!

On Tuesday I started to feel slightly better but I sounded horrible. Probably like a stopped up drain would sound if it could talk. I didn't go in to volunteer at JDRF and Bill said, "Good, they don't need your germs over there." Gee thanks, hon.

Wednesday I was feeling better but I sounded worse. My voice would only let me croak out every other word and I was coughing so much I'm sure the neighbors must have thought we were training circus seals. I called JDRF to tell them that I wouldn't be coming in, again, and I'm sure when Colleen, the director, answered the phone, she must have thought, "Who is this man calling me at 8 in the morning?" until I identified myself.  Yeah, that bad.  I sounded like Demi Moore & Suzanne Pleshette's lovechild.

By Thursday I was much better in spite of coughing fits and still sounding like I drank too much whiskey and smoked too many cigarettes.

My question is this: How is it that my child gets this little hint of unwell and I get zonked? It's like my body becomes a playground for these cold germs and they don't want to leave.

I would also like to point out that being sick in real life is nothing like it appears on TV. The TV moms have these dainty little colds; they do a cute sniffle and gently dab their noses. Their coughs sound like a small throat clearing and they still look ready to walk down the runway sporting next year's finest fashions. Meanwhile, when I'm all sick I look like some medical experiment gone terribly wrong with watery eyes, crust under my nose, coughing up all forms of ick; my hair looks like I combed it in the dark with a fork and all I want on me is my comfortable clothes which are probably wrinkled with holes and stains from the last time I cleaned the house.

It just ain't fair!!

On the up side Little Man checks on me often out of concern when I'm sick in bed. On the flip side he keeps me at  a distance so I "don't give him any of my germs." Hunh!!

           

Zombies vs. Aliens

Last night Little Man and Bill were looking up movies to rent from Red Box. They debated between "Alien Apocalypse", "Zombie Apocalypse" and a few others.  Then a question arose of which would wipe us out first, aliens or zombies. So I said, "Duh. Everyone knows the zombie apocalypse will happen first." And here's my logic:

 There are tons of scientists conducting research on how to cure the diseases of the world. All we need is one who is evil has questionable morals and bam! Instant zombie virus. Let's not forget that a flesh eating bacteria already exists.

Anyway, once the zombie virus has infected everyone and we're all vulnerable and mindless the aliens will swoop down and attack us, thus creating the alien apocalypse.

However, if the aliens eat our brains they will become zombie aliens and if they can't defeat our mass zombie army and some escape without knowing that they are infected they could go out into space and create an Inter-galactic zombie alien apocalypse.

Yeah. I know. Crazy. And by crazy I'm talking about my brain and the unsettling thoughts that live there. I feel bad for whatever zombie eats it.

Oh and the boys finally decided against renting a movie and watched TV instead.

VS.

I don't control the weather, but I wish I did

It's been windy here for the past 3 days. Thursday to Friday it was scary windy. Not quite drop-a-house-on-you windy but still windy enough to push around patio furniture. I hate it. I'd rather have a good ol' thunderstorm. Claps of thunder and lightning bolts don't bother me. Watching to see if a tree will snap in half and come crashing down on the house...scary.

Every time it's windy here I feel responsible. Why? Because it was my idea to move out here and then my parents followed and my dad's best friend who we refer to as Uncle came soon after. So I feel like if the weather is less than stellar it's somehow my fault. I told Bill this and he said, "That's stupid. It's not like you can control the weather." I know, he's right. Although it would be cool.

I spoke with some of the resident lifers, those who have lived here all their lives. They said it never used to get so windy so often. I remember past vacations here and it was always warm and sunny which was a key selling point to us moving here. It's still warm and sunny 80% of the time. If only we could get rid of the stupid wind. Where is that dang Wind De-activator button?

Oh sleep, why hast thou forsaken me?

Sleep and I are sometimes like two ships passing in the night. I go to bed all ready to sleep and then, lay there totally wide awake. And yet a few short hours ago I was tired and could have gone to sleep right then but it was too early and would have messed up my already messed up sleep schedule even more.

I go to bed too late. I can't fall right asleep. Sometimes I can't stay asleep. I think I'm a partial insomniac. I'm like an insom because I do eventually fall asleep.

Full blown insomniacs hardly sleep at all. I wonder if they nap during the day? I can nap during the day without any problems. Maybe sleep thinks I'm cheating on it when I nap and that's why I'm having difficulty? I don't always nap, though. And I don't plan on it, it just happens. If you visit more often, sleep, I promise no more naps.

See you tonight.

Who's to say what's normal?

Yesterday for Mother's Day my guys took me out to dinner. Chris got the kid's menu with games and pictures to color, which just for the record is much more fun than the boring, plastic grown-up menus.

So we all placed our orders and looked to see what Little Man was busy drawing. There was lots of red and some blue. Then he explained his masterpiece.

Little Man: It's a murder scene and this is all blood. The guy got jumped by several ninjas and they cut his throat (mimics throat cutting) and his arms and legs and stabbed him (mimics stabbing and dying noises).

I looked at Bill and said, "It's scary that this is normal for us. I mean, most parents would be concerned." He replied, "Nah. He's fine." And then we started eating our food.

Reminds me of that scene in the Addam's Family movie where the teacher called  Morticia's attention to a drawing Wednesday did of an aunt who was burned for being a witch.

Sadly, I'm not able to post a picture of the drawing. It didn't fare so well during dinner.

A push to volunteer

For the last couple of years I've considered getting involved with some charity/organization and donating my time. I wasn't sure what or where but I knew the situation would present itself. And boy did it ever! God didn't just nudge me he pushed me into a specific direction when Christopher was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

I'm talking about JDRF-LV and how I am an now donating my time to a worthy cause.

In the beginning, Bill and I just attended the monthly meetings. We met new people and learned some information about the disease that we hadn't known before.

Then, two months ago, I decided to actively become a volunteer. Now I come to their office (which is very close to the house so yay!) about twice a week for 2-2 1/2 hours a day. I do everything from stuffing envelopes to helping with big charity events.

Sometimes I like the mindless stuff. Staple this flyer to that packet? Sure thing. They did have me use the paper cutter once, which might have been one time too many because of the way the postcardy things were cutting. In my defense, it was getting stuck on the downward cut and the postcardy things kept moving as I struggled. Not my fault!

They also had me measure some paintings for size to be displayed on a wall at our big, gala event. What the heck were they thinking? Me and numbers? Never a good combination. Not to mention it was art and so it was hard to tell how it would hang. I only hope I looked at some of them correctly, otherwise the length was measured as the width and vice versa. This is what happens when you let a non-artsy person use a tape measure.

Anyway, I like going to the office. The women are all very nice. And I like knowing that I am helping out in some way. I do what I can to combat this disease. I do it because it's the least I can do. I do it for Christopher.

However, the next time I'm looking for some guidance, I hope to get a more gentle prodding.

Not all teas are made equal

This past Friday we took Little Man to see the Avengers movie at one of the hotel/casinos nearby. While Bill and Chris were waiting on line to buy tickets I wandered over to Starbucks to buy a hot tea and something sweet to nosh on.

When the young barista guy asked to take my order I started out fine and then we somehow took a sharp left and ended up in Confusion Land. Here's what happened:

Barista guy: Can I take your order?
Me: Yes, I'd like a Tall ( their version of a small) tea.

So far, so good.

Barista guy: What kind of tea would you like?

And this is where the road gets bumpy. You see, I couldn't remember the name of the tea I prefer.

Me: What is your version of a plain black tea?

Barista guy: Well, we have Earl Grey, Chai,  Chamomile.
Me: No, none of those. What do you have that's like plain old Lipton?
Barista guy: Um, Earl Grey, Chai, Cham-.
Me: No, no.
Barista guy: I have no idea.
(Then he looks at Barista girl standing there)
Barista guy: Do you know which one?
Barista girl: I have no clue.
Me: Straining to look over the counter and read the box labels.

Then my eyes spot it. Awake!

Me: The Tazo Awake, that's the one.
Barista guy: Tazo Awake? Okay.
Me: And a piece of Cinnamon swirl pound cake.

Thankfully there was no one waiting behind me.

Now, I realize my lack of knowledge of Starbucks tea brands was part of the problem. But, shouldn't these purveyors of expensive coffees served in cookie-cutter boutique cafes with fancy-schmancy titles know their own products? 

Then again, maybe I expect too much.

In the future if I decide to buy a hot beverage I'll stick to a simple establishment like Dunkin Donuts, where coffee is just coffee and tea is just tea. With a little milk. And two sugars.                  

Don't call me, I'll call you

I'm not a fan of talking on the phone. Gabbing, gossiping, catching up on life, blah blah blah. I really don't enjoy it. Business calls are the worst but that's usually because I don't like dealing with crappy customer service and bureaucratic nonsense.

Thank God for social media or I'd never communicate with my friends or the outside world. People would think I'm a recluse and avoid my house for fear of disturbing "the un-communicative woman who lives there".

I'm not even sure where this dislike of phone calls came from. As a teen-age girl I was always on the phone with my girlfriends. So much that my dad got me my own private phone line so that "other people in the house could use the telephone".

These days I have to be in the mood to make a phone call. Almost like a doctor having to block out some time for an appointment. Once I'm on the phone, I'm fine. I can talk for a while. And I shamefully confess that sometimes I do other things while on the phone like, paint my toenails, straighten up my desk area or the ever popular doodling. Oh come on, I'm not the only one. Don't judge!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unsociable and I love my friends. I would just rather we email, text, message one another or tweet than talk on the phone.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable, or silly or unreasonably silly. But to me the phone is a necessary evil. That I try to avoid.

Diabetes is no laughing matter

I love to laugh and consider myself to have a pretty good sense of humor. I even laugh at things that are inappropriate. Show me a video of a dad getting hit in the groin by a ball his child kicked and I'm hysterical. And any joke that starts off with...A priest, a rabbi and a plumber are in a boat... is bound to be funny and have me in tears.

So I'm confused with myself as to why a joke about diabetes left me annoyed rather than rolling. Here's the joke: John has 32 candy bars. He eats 28. What does he have now? Diabetes. John has diabetes.

Um, no, he doesn't.

Maybe it's because this hits way too close to home for me since Little Man was diagnosed. Maybe because it also promotes ignorance and misconceptions. I mean, if you're going to be funny, at least have some truth to what you're saying. I get tired of having to explain that he got this disease by an unlucky roll of the dice and not because he ate too much chocolate. And yes, he can eat candy. Of course I moderate how much, just like I did back before he was diagnosed.

Eating candy or sugar based foods does NOT give you diabetes any more than standing next to an idiot makes you stupid. Although there is that whole concept of the company you keep but I'm speaking generally.

In all honesty, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have laughed at this diabetes joke even if Little Man didn't have the disease. Because it's just not funny.

Although this did rub me the wrong way I still laugh and joke around and with me there's always something funny going on. Maybe in time I'll find this and other diabetic funnies to be humorous.

And maybe not.