Mutants running wild

Christopher has gotten into the habit of calling things he dislikes, 'mutants'. I love this. I encourage this.

The State-Standardized Testing he's been having these last two weeks in school...Mutant Tests. The insulin shot that he gives himself is...a Mutant Shot. The pigeon that won't get out of the way when I'm driving is a goddamn stupid bird! But he calls it...yep, a Mutant Pigeon.

Best of all he makes this crazy face and changes his voice when he calls something a mutant. This type of behavior just makes me so proud.

And I apologize to all mutants for his taking their name in vain. But at least he isn't using foul language. Have you ever listened to the potty mouths some kids at the park have? Granted I  sometimes have the Mother Commode of all potty mouths and I secretly giggle when I hear one kid call another a buttface, I just don't want my kid cursing. Yet. There's plenty of time for that when he's older.

Maybe I should try to start using the word mutant in place of swearing. But knowing me I'd make it more colorful and call something f**king mutant.

If it wasn't for the last minute

In just one week, JDRF is having their annual Gala, which is a serious, big deal, fancy-schmancy fundraiser. Even though I'm "working" the event as a volunteer, I still have to get all dressed up in my Sunday best.

Currently I have half an outfit, which I'm on the fence about. I had my eye on, and finally bought, this cute, black, high-low sheer skirt. Yes, it fits fine. Yes, it looks good. Yes, I could be a little taller, however, I plan to wear heels.

Now, I need a top to go with and I'd like a comfortable pair of heels, preferably higher and more comfy than my current strappy, black sandals.

 My problem is....Is the skirt dressy enough? Should I just find a dress and return the skirt? Why did I wait until the last minute? Oh, I know the answer to that last question! It's because, I'm me and sometimes I like to add unnecessary stress to my life by waiting until the last minute.  I mean, how else will I get motivated to do certain things? 

Oh, and for those of you wondering, no, a leather jacket is not acceptable. Although a leather skirt might work but then I'm stuck with half an outfit again and still shopping.

I've never been one of those women who lives to shop for clothes. In fact, I've hated it in the past. Does this make me anti-woman? Crap! I hope I don't have to turn in my girl-card because Lord knows where the hell I've misplaced that thing! Anyway, I have since, gotten better and will actually buy something when I set out to go clothes-shopping these days. 

As for the Gala...I swear I will find something to wear this weekend. Something nice. And not ridiculously expensive either. Even if it kills me. In which case, bury me in the damn outfit so it wasn't a total waste.

What's goin' on?

I haven't been here in a while. As if you haven't noticed by the lack of new posts and ramblings. Yeesh! One minute I'm turning the calendar to April and the next thing we're two weeks into the month. Whatthewhat?? I know!

So here's a little of what's been going on... *cue Marvin Gaye music

Chris's insulin pump finally arrived this past week.  Yay! Hooray! W00t!!This is big, exciting news in our house. It means we can do away with injections because he wears the pump and calculates the amount he needs and it automatically inserts it into his body via a small tube and needle combo. Now we just need to be properly trained by a diabetes educator. Hopefully that happens this week. Let's go people!*points to watch impatiently.


I'm currently investigating ad sites so I can place ads on here and make some extra bucks. I hate to be that blog who has ads for profit, but I has to be that blog because some side revenue would be helpful. I did try Google AdSense but they refused me. Imagine Me being denied?! I know, crazy! So I'm looking for legit sites to do bizness with.


Chris and I went to movie night at his school last Friday night and saw "Wreck-It, Ralph". I thought it was cute and am now considering Vanellope von Schweetz as my Halloween costume. Check her out:

Vanellope

I can get a green hoodie, make the tights and put candy barrettes in my hair. Then again, we're six months from that holiday and I'll probably change my mind before then. Five times.

Anyone have any interesting news to report? What's been goin' on whichu?


*Vanellope image courtesy of AllPostersimages.com

They shoot you for that in New Jersey

Ah Las Vegas. Nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to drive here. Seriously, a good number of people who drive around here, um, suck at it.

This is mainly because Vegas is home to a lot of transplants from other parts of the country and each brings their own unique way of driving. Which most of the time provokes me into a murderous rage but then I remember that not everyone comes from the northeast. This doesn't automatically turn me into a kinder, gentler person. Don't be crazy. I just happen to remember and then I continue having a fit behind the wheel.

Here drivers think nothing of cutting you off or deciding at the last moment that they really don't want to make that right turn but instead want to continue going straight...s-l-o-w-l-y. And my personal favorite: when they sit for an extra couple minutes at a newly turned green light.

Back in the metropolitan area you would get cursed at in six different languages accompanied by hand gestures of all kinds. That's if you're lucky. If you're unlucky you might end up meeting the road raging business end of a gun.

Me and Stevie Wonder

I'm not an overly superstitious person. That's not to say I deliberately walk under ladders to tempt fate. No, because someone or something might fall on me, which would prove that walking under ladders is indeed, unlucky.

However, I do have my own superstitions that I think are unique to me and therefore might reinforce the need for more medication but I heed them nonetheless.

If a bad thought pops into my head I immediately knock on wood. It's my way of ensuring the bad thing won't happen. Like a safeguard. I know my best bet is to not think bad thoughts in the first place. Have we met? If I could do that I'd have a lot less wood furniture in my home. And this post would be noticeably shorter. This knocking  on wood does not apply to people who deserve the bad thoughts because those are intentionally dreamed up. And usually painful. And no wood is harmed.

Another quirky superstition is that sometimes when I have some news I won't reveal it. Like if a magazine is considering an article I wrote I won't mention it to anyone until it's actually in print. It's like my very own secret. I think, though, it has more to do with me having less people to disappoint if the news doesn't turn out the way I want it to. So, sure I'm viewing the glass as half empty. If the news is good, I just refill the glass. And shout from the rooftops.

I also cross my fingers when hoping for something good or hoping for a good outcome. And i follow the itching hand superstition theory that if your left hand itches you will receive money and if your right hand itches you will give money. These last two are kind of common but I follow them.  Why? Because I'm ridiculous! Plus, all of this knocking, crossing and itching keeps my hands occupied so there is a method to my madness. (Madness being the key word)

So, how does Stevie Wonder fit into all of this? He doesn't. He just sings that cool song, "Superstition".
And now for your listening pleasure... 

Yep, he's still there

Ever since we brought Chris home from the hospital as a baby, I've been checking on him during the night. I only check once before I officially go to sleep just to see that he's alright. And when he's having bad high blood-glucose numbers I have to check his levels while he's sleeping. But this is more for his health and safety than for the peace of mind of a neurotic mom. Okay, so maybe it's both. 

The first night after we were released from the hospital when he was born, I checked on him  10 times. One of the last times, as I was coming out of his room, Billy asked me if I was checking on him, yet again. I sheepishly said, yes and he said that was okay because he had already gone into his room 3 times. Ah new parents.

These days when I come to bed after checking little man, Billy will say to me, Is he still there? And of course I answer with my own wise-ass response: No, he must still be out gambling. I hope he doesn't ever sneak out of the house when he's older because if I still go in to check when he's 16 or 17, I'm sure to have a heart attack. And I bet Billy won't believe me when I answer him with, he's not in his room.

When he was younger I would also look for signs of life, you know the rise and fall of his chest, breathing sounds. If none of these were easily detected I would put my hand on his chest to feel for a heartbeat or place my fingers under his nose to feel him breathing. What? So, maybe I was a little paranoid but it's not like I held a mirror under his nose for goodness sake!

These days I do it more out of habit. The checking not the looking for signs of life. And maybe this way I can sleep a little sounder. So I steal a few moments when he's fast asleep to marvel at this awesome, little man and the fact that he's mine. And he's still there, in his room, and not out on the Strip gambling away his college tuition money.

Another St. Patrick's Day down the toilet

When I was younger, St. Patrick's Day meant wearing some green and watching John Wayne in The Quiet Man on TV with my mom. When I got older it included going out to a local bar (sometimes an Irish one, sometimes not) and celebrating with beer, song and friends.

In honor of this holiday I thought I'd see how other people celebrated. Of course many towns have the traditional parade. New York City is home to the largest one but I bet you didn't know that Hot Springs, Arkansas has the world's shortest St. Patrick's Day Parade. This parade has the strangest cast of characters, too, including Irish Elvis impersonators (Erin go bragh thankyou thankyouverymuch), belly dancers, and some middle-aged Irish dancers who call themselves the Lards of the Dance. Now these seem like my kind of people. Not traditional and quirky enough to be amusing.

In Chicago they dye the river green for the occasion. Talk about extreme. That's a helluva lot of food coloring to add to an entire river. Be kind of funny if the river ever backed up into the sewer system. Then everyone could have the luck of the Irish in their toilets. Yellow and green mix to form what color?




*These traditions and today's history lesson provided by smithsonianmag.com

You say Venitian, I say Venetian

It happened, again. In another of those unlikely places, too. I found a misspelled word. I can't help it, my eyes just zero in on the typo/misspelled word. I could be reading War and Peace or the back of a cereal box and Bam! there it is. I don't actively look for them, I mean I'm not some crazy spelling nazi who critiques everything she reads. I just, see words.

It was just like that time on the (fake) bridge of the Enterprise at the Star Trek Experience when I glanced down at Worf's post and saw the word "torpedo" spelled "torpeod". Hundreds of people tour through there. I see the mistake. And yes, I did tell the guide. He was surprised, especially since he thought I had a Trekkie-related question when I rose my hand. He came over and acknowledged that torpedo was indeed spelled wrong. I always wanted to go back to see if they corrected it but the attraction closed in 2008.

Anyway, I have a self described, unhealthy fascination with all things mafia. Which leads me to my recent spelling error discovery. We were at the Mob Attraction located in the Tropicana. [Shameless plug for my city: This is a great attraction to see. It's interactive, informative and reasonably priced. Plus they renovated the Tropicana and it looks fabulous, all bright and newish.]

As we were making our way around, reading about the gangsters of old Vegas, there was this exhibit with a fake explosion box that you can push down the plunger as if you were imploding an old casino. It was hooked up to a screen that played the actual hotel explosions and the screen would tell you what hotel you blew up and what exists there today. One of us, I think it was Christopher, blew up the Sands and the screen informed us that the Venetian now sits on that site. Except it was spelled "Venitian". The writing comes on and disappears quickly. I mean, blink and you miss it. I didn't miss it. And then I blew up more hotels to come back to that one just to see if what I read was true. And yes, they spelled the hotel incorrectly. Bill looked at me as if to say, only you would spot the mistake.

This time, however, I didn't tell anyone. It's a Mob exhibit for goodness sake! I don't want to end up at the bottom of Lake Mead for being a know-it-all!

Oh technology, why do you mock me?

I started this post a week ago and now it's partially outdated because we recently bought new cell phones. I'm still posting it though because it's all true. And funny. Or annoying, depending on whether you talk to me or Bill.

I'm an admitted techno-phobe. Gadgets and appliances with lots of buttons and bells and whistles can sometimes freak me out. I have gotten better over time, even though I still don't know everything my ipod can do. How 5 songs I had transferred onto it suddenly found themselves gone from my playlist, I'll never know. But not every techno-fail is my doing.

Take for example, my old cell phone. It has taken it upon itself to shut off randomly. With no help from me. It could be sitting on my desk while I'm on the computer and then I go to maybe check the time and suddenly, it's off. Just like that. So. Irritating. Thankfully this is no longer an issue and my uncooperative phone has been retired.

I'm still navigating my way around my new high-tech, James Bond-y type Samsung Galaxy S III. It has so many cool features and fun things to do and has turned the husband into an even bigger child  than he was before. As if that was possible. Good to know we spent X amount of dollars so he can download and play all the Sci-Fi ringtones he can find.

In keeping with the theme of this post....

I have a DELL laptop and I love it. My problem is the electric unit that plugs into the thing. It has this habit of unplugging from the computer itself. This I know to be a DELL problem. Their plugs break. My previous dell had a plug issue too and I would have to wind it around the screen to keep it in place.

With this laptop, the part that inserts into the computer is a little loose. I think something in the prong area broke off or something like that. Also, the wire is breaking and will soon need to be held together with electrical tape. I've been putting off getting this fixed or replaced. I'm not sure why but I think it has to do with the fear of somehow not being able to use my computer and going through severe withdrawal. Oh wait, I now have this new fangled phone that does everything but cook dinner. Problem(s) solved. See who's laughing now technology!

I shall dub thee...

I have nicknames for people. No, not the usual 'Jerk" "Idiot' or 'Pinhead' but actual nicknames that I use to identify them. If you know me and the person in question then you might know what I call them. Otherwise, it makes no sense. I'll give you a few examples.

There's a woman at JDRF named Marcy. Little Man and I have dubbed her Marceline the Vampire Queen from our fave cartoon, "Adventure Time". This is only in reference to her name and does not indicate that Marcy is a female, color-sucking vampire. If you don't have a child aged 8-11 or you live in a cave, you might not be familiar with this show. I hated it at first but it totally grew on me.

Marceline, the cartoon character not to be confused with Marcy, the real person.

I have endearing nicknames for Bill and Christopher which I won't mention here because they are both serious pranksters and I am an easy target. Of course I've already referred to Chris as Little Man in this blog numerous times.

And then there are nicknames which are obvious and funny. Back in NJ there was this guy who walked past our house everyday with a coffee cup in his hand so naturally we called him "Coffee Man".

Me: Oh, here comes Coffee Man again.
Bill: Really? That's the second time today.

In college, my roommate and I had nicks for a lot of people. This way we could talk about them and no one had a clue. It was like having our own secret language. Some names were creative, some were embarrassing (for them even though they had no clue) and some were politically incorrect. For instance, there was this guy I knew very well who earned a nickname based on a vulgar conversation between me and the roommate. Thankfully (for him) that nick changed to something more appropo especially given the music he listened to. And no I'm not saying the derogatory nickname here (I have some standards!) but I can tell you he became the Flotsam to someone else's Jetsam.

Anyway, I think specially given nicknames are more personal. Hell, even I have nicknames that people have given me over time. They're cute and sweet and almost all have some story attached to them.

To sleep, perchance to dream

Here is the post I wrote the other night. You know, the one I mentioned while explaining my crazy, busy week? The one I wrote while being super tired and needed to clean up before publishing it on here? Yes, yes, that one.

I was on this highly educational website and I came across something interesting. And by highly educational I mean Pinterest. And when I say interesting, I really mean creepy.

There was this quote: If you can't fall asleep, it means you're awake in someone else's dream.

Well, thank you very much person dreaming about me. Because of you, I am lying awake here when I should be sleeping. Remind me to kick your damn sleeping ass next time you drag me into one of your dreams.


I would also like to point out how disturbing this quote is as well. I mean, would me being in someone else's dream qualify as kidnapping in some way? I am kinda there not of my own free will because I'd rather be sleeping but I can't because I have to go be in someone's dream.

It's almost like a job in a way. I have to go be somewhere else and I really don't want to. And I'm not even getting paid for this nocturnal visit!  And let's not even discuss why I'm there in the first place and what I'm doing. In some cases me being in someone's dream could certainly be considered a nightmare.

At least I hope that I'm wearing a kick-ass outfit and looking awesome in whoever's dream I'm in. Then again, I'd rather not know. I shudder to think about what goes on in some people's heads, let alone their subconscious while they're sleeping. 

My advice?

Go to sleep and leave me be! I have my own dreamy weirdness to deal with.

I blame the radio

This morning I had to go all the way across town. And by all the way I mean I schlepped to the east side, past Fremont Street. I live in the southwest area just to give you some vague idea. Vegas is a huge city and more than that one long road familiarly known as 'The Strip'.

I had my route all mapped out and was happily on my way. Music wasn't an issue as the radio was cooperating for once and playing some decent songs, at first. And then it all went south. This is despite the fact that I was indeed heading north.

As I got closer to the downtown area the signs started getting confusing and then the music being played was getting crappier. I have musical A.D.D. as it is and I can't stand being in a car and hearing bad music so I'm constantly switching stations for something I like. So there I was, changing channels and in my distraction I missed my turn off and ended up on another highway. Oh crap.

Then the radio mocked me by playing some cool music and naturally I had to lower the volume because what's the first thing you do when you get lost or find yourself going the wrong way? You lower the volume. Thankfully I recognized streets and was able to turn myself around and get to my destination.

For this unnecessary inconvenience I blame the radio. And also the people who designed the freeway and their confusing signage. How I went from exit 76 on one freeway to exit 41 on another highway, I'll never know. I was supposed to get off on exit 75A but I never saw that exit unless I passed it while looking down at the radio dials and cursing the DJs.

The moral of the story: Bring a cd of music you thoroughly enjoy so you can spend more time watching the road signs and less time song-hunting on the radio. Unless you're like me and end up fast-forwarding through lesser enjoyable songs or switching cd's whilst driving. (That takes skill I might add).

Crazy, busy work week

Hello readers! Hello? Hello...hello.  Echo...echo echo.

crickets chirping...

Hello crickets!

silence........

Oh great, now even the crickets are ignoring me.

Okay, so I have been crazy, busy lately. And here's why: I got this temporary gig.  No, not singing. Or playing guitar. I do play drums sometimes with whatever pens, pencils or sticks are in my hand at that moment. Oh and they do call me a rock star at the office but, I digress.

I'm doing some in-house work but I can't say where. You know, if I tell you then I have to kill you and all that. But since you haven't annoyed me or cut me off in traffic you don't deserve to die so let's leave it all a mystery. So, I've been doing this short stint for this company, which ends Friday. Then it's back to the same ol' same ol.

I've missed my computer time. Which loosely translates to writing and researching topics and in no way includes pinning things on Pinterest, chatting with people or playing games. Nooo! I'm a serious worker bee when I'm in my home office. Why the husband finds that last part so funny is beyond me.

In all seriousness, I should have more frequent posts once I get back to my normal routine. I did write one the other night but I need to clean it up before publishing it on here because apparently I make even less sense than usual when I'm really tired. Who knew?

Until next time, friends...

Musical astral projection

I've had these lyrics tumbling around in my head for the past couple of days. For the normal person this is not at all unusual. But as we all know (and the husband is fond of reminding me) I'm far from normal. And the fact that these lyrics can even find room to exist in the anarchist playground that is my mind is quite a feat.

I don't know how anyone else deals with this besides humming and singing the tune currently playing in your head but I have to find the song in question and listen to it. Repeatedly. Until it's either out of my head or my musical A.D.D. has kicked in and I'm bored with the song at hand.

This one caught me off guard. It's certainly not in keeping with what I've been listening to lately. Some might be surprised, heck even I was, for a moment. But then again, I've grown musically over the years and listen to a lot of different types of music. Others I merely tolerate especially if I'm stuck somewhere that I can't control the station, but that's neither here nor there.

So tonight I found that song and listened to it. And it immediately brought me back to a special time and place. Funny how that happens. Almost like musical astral projection. Or melodic deja vu. 

I think psychologists call it some form of association in which you identify a specific song with a specific person/place/time. Makes it sound so clinical and colder than it is. But don't quote me because I'm not a doctor. I don't play one on TV and I didn't stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, either.

Please tell me this happens to other people, too. I'd hate to think I have yet another thing to add to my List-of-reasons-I should-be-confined-to-a-padded-room.

In the meantime I'm off to listen to this song. Again. For the 10th time. 

When Harry met Sally, NJ style

NJ-Harry met NJ-Sally in college. (Which was located in, you guessed it, NJ)  She had big hair. He was all "Hey, dude, how you doin?" They listened to the same music and started to hang out together. NJ-Harry liked NJ-Sally. And why shouldn't he? She was cool and he liked her attitude (which goes without saying). However, NJ-Sally liked him more than NJ-Harry liked her. He toyed with her emotions. He ran hot and cold. One minute he was sweet and into her and the next he was distant and unfeeling. It frustrated NJ-Sally and hurt her. Actually it stabbed her in the heart and she often wanted to grab him by the balls and squeeze just so he could know the pain she felt.

Then NJ-Harry graduated.  As NJ-Sally finished her final year of school, NJ-Harry would continue to pop in and out of her life. Yeah, I know. (insert eye-roll here) Eventually they lost contact, thanks in large part to him.

So, NJ-Harry and NJ-Sally went their separate ways. Each got married and started a family. Neither one ever gave the other any thought. Well, maybe just in quick passing.  

Fast-forward 20 years......

One day, on a well-known social media website, and thanks to NJ-Sally's, nosy but well-intentioned friend and former college roommate, contact was initiated between NJ-Sally and NJ-Harry.  It was along the lines of  "hey dude, how's it going?" and a quick catch-up. Nothing more and nothing less. NJ-Sally didn't expect anything else cause she was so over him at this point.

Then, three years later and just for the hell of it, NJ-Sally commented on something NJ-Harry had written. A few comments more passed between them and a conversation began. A long, continuous one that involved some reminiscing, updates on life, and many apologies (on NJ-Harry's part). About friggin' time, right?

Anyway, they started to stay in touch and bada bing bada boom, a true friendship between them has been born. Unlike their namesakes, NJ-Harry and NJ-Sally liked one another at first.  And now they've come full circle. They still share a love of music. Oh, and NJ-Sally is still cool and has more attitude than ever. NJ-Harry still finds this endearing.

So, was this meant to be, as some people seem to think? If you believe in Fate, then maybe these two needed time apart in order to mature before reuniting. 

Jesus Christ is fit and trim thanks to me or How I pissed off a lot of religious people

Whenever I get frustrated, or annoyed, I have this phrase that I say, Christ on a bike. Don't ask me where I got it, I think I heard some character utter it in a movie. Nicholas Cage comes to mind. Crap, now I'm going to go crazy trying to track down what movie I think I heard him say it in.

So like I said this is my go-to phrase when something exasperates me or really pisses me off. Say I'm waiting on a line at the post office for 15 minutes behind some pinhead woman who insists on questioning the price of each package she ships, has no clue how to fill out a customs form, and wants to split her payment up between cash and credit card. Christ on a bike, lady! (That's also a true story, by the way)

I don't think it's very bad or sacrilegious because I'm not taking his name in vain. Instead I'm taking his name and giving him some exercise. There's nothing derogatory about riding a bike. If someone were to say Sandy on a bike, I wouldn't be offended even though it's been years since I rode a bike. However, putting my name at the beginning of that phrase just doesn't have the same effect.

If Christ were here today I don't think he'd mind. In fact, Christ probably could have used a bike back in his time. It would've been easier on his feet and he'd have made good time in all his travels. Not to mention he'd be in awesome shape and could probably give Lance Armstrong a run for his money.

I once heard the phrase Christ on a cracker but that one just doesn't make sense to me. Why would he be on a cracker? At least he could ride the bike. I guess since there are many different names for God there are also different objects to put Christ on so long as it's not done in vain.

When my mom gets annoyed or is in disbelief about something she says Jesus Christmas. For example, the northeast just got hit with a huge snowstorm, and she said, "Jesus Christmas look at all that snow they got." I look at it this way, at least she's keeping Christ in Christmas.

I apologize if I've offended anyone with this post. Good God, that wasn't my intention.

Back on track, I hope

Already I'm doing better than last month since this is the third post for February and January had a dismal two entries. Hopefully I don't ninja vanish again mid-month. I make no promises so don't hold me to anything because I hate disappointing people. I'm sorry in advance, okay?

Sometimes when I can't immediately fall asleep, a whole blog post comes to me. It's annoying, really, because it's a smart, witty post that I should type up post-haste but I'm just comfortable enough to not want to move and yet still not quite in that ready-to-fall asleep phase. Then I try to go over key points in hopeful determination that I'll remember it the next day and before I'm done I fall asleep.

I should buy one of those mini recorders so I can record my post and transcribe it the next day, but that would require me to have to grab my idiot cell phone in the middle of the night to use as a night light so I can find the recorder and of course there's always the risk of waking up Bill. Even though he's not nearly as homicidal as I am when woken up suddenly from a deep sleep, I would still feel guilty.

There's also the fact that I would have to talk out loud or at least in an unsoft (that's my word and I say it's real) voice and not wanting to wake everyone I'd have to get up and go into another room and at that point I may just as well grab my laptop and type the damn thing up then and there.

The whole thing just isn't worth the aggravation. So instead I'll just continue sporadically posting about everything and anything cool, funny or nonsensical. At the very least it'll be a post and whoever wanders in here will have something to read. Win win for all!

Of chocolates and stolen poetry

It's almost Valentine's Day. You know, hearts and flowers and Chocolate! I'm partial to Russell Stover candies, but I'm not picky. Whitmans. Godiva. It's all good,(right Husband?who may or may not be reading this).

In honor of this holiday I thought I would look around and see how other parts of the world celebrated. Do they buy flowers? Chocolates? Silly little Scooby Doo cards that say, "I ruff ru"? Let's have a look. As usual, my smartass remarks are in blue.

Denmark:

Danish men send their ladylove a valentine known as a gaekkebrev (or "joking letter"). This gaekkebrev is a  romantic letter that contains a rhyme penned by the sender himself. The fun part of this custom is that the letter doesn't have the name of the sender. Instead, he signs the message with dots...one dot for each letter in his name. If the lady correctly guesses his name, he rewards her with an Easter egg during Eastertide.  Where do I begin? A romantic letter sounds very nice. Signing it with dots? Is this a valentine or some sort of morse code? And what if the lady guesses incorrectly?
 
Recipient: Oh Joe! Thank you for sending me such a lovely valentine.
Joke letter sender: Joe? Who's Joe?
Blushing and stuttering recipient: Tom?
Joe: I didn't send you a Valentine. I don't even like you.
Awkward.


Japan:

Valentine's Day is observed on February 14, when women present chocolates or gifts to the men they love. It is also common for women to give chocolates to any man close to them, such as co-workers and male friends, whom they don't actually love. This kind of chocolate-gift is called giri-choco which mean chocolates given because of obligations. Then on March 14, known as the "White Day", men who received chocolates or gifts on Valentine's day are supposed to return the favour to the women who gave them gifts. Does this sound backwards to anyone else? And what if I don't like the guys I work with? Happy Valentine's Day, Bob and Mike. Here's some chocolate....no, no don't thank me. You might want to make sure there's plenty of toilet paper in the men's room though.


Britain:


One way that the British express their love on Valentine's Day is by composing verses. About a month prior, certain British tabloids and magazines publish sonnets and verses to commemorate the holiday. This is especially helpful for the poetically challenged. Nothing says I Love You more than passing off a Lord Byron poem as your own.


I say that if you want something specific for Valentine's Day, drop hints. Gee that Tiffany heart bracelet is so cute. If, after the day has come and gone and you got knee high socks instead of the bracelet, then take a page from the Japanese (and me) and lace his chocolate with ex-lax.



*Thank you to theholidayspot.com for their information. 
**All opinions are my own.

A Letter to my poor neglected blog and the unfortunate souls who read her

Dear Blog and Followers,


I have not abandoned you. Even though it's February and I have Two, just Two stinkin' entries to show for this year. I've been busy? I'm trying to look for a (gulp!) actual bricks 'n mortar job. I know, that's no excuse.

In all seriousness, I've temporarily lost my writing mojo. It's kinda like writer's block except it sounds swankier because instead of wanting to write but having nothing to say, I have lots to say but no oomph to do it. Which also means I'm lazy. Okay not so much me, but my Muse. She's the lazy one. I blame her! She took off on a vacation for parts unknown and left no forwarding address and I've been stuck here alone trying to make myself write something, anything. But I hate doing that because it just sounds so forced, like when the teacher made you write an essay about someone you admire. But then you couldn't decide who to write about and what to say so you sat there watching the clock and looking at your classmates furiously writing away and you panicked so you ended up writing about your old, eccentric aunt who collects porcelain cats and smells like mothballs. Thanks a lot for that exercise in writing humiliation Mrs. Teacher!

Anyway, I promise to return here and post more silly, inane things about my life and make witty observations about the world. Just as soon as Miss Lazy Muse returns.

Thank you for being so excellent. And not judging. At least not too harshly.

Sincerely,
Me

My stupid head

Yesterday evening while listening to my ipod I told Bill that my ears must be smaller than average. He gave me that oh jeez I can't wait to hear this one look. So naturally I had to explain my reasoning behind this profound statement.

My earbuds don't stay in and I have to keep pushing them back in.

Without missing a beat he said that's because all the stupid in your head keeps pushing them out.

Touche, husband.

And he might just be right about that. There is a whole mess of stupid roaming the halls of my head in between video streams of Tom Cat trying to catch Jerry Mouse. In any case, if this keeps up I'm just buying a new pair of headphones. To better hear the music and ya know, keep the stupid from completing falling out. 

He is a gentleman and a scholar

Sometimes I think parenting is like jumping out of an airplane with a blindfold on and my arms tied behind my back. What the hell? Am I doing this right? And then comes a moment when I see that yes, I am doing a good job.

Friday Little Man went bowling with his grandpa and Uncle. I sat and watched because my ball is...somewhere and well I was sure Little Man would bowl a much better game than me and I'd be completely embarrassed. My mom sat and watched because she doesn't bowl at all and if she did would probably end up sliding down the alley after her ball.

During one of the games Chris wanted a snack so grandma took him to the vending machine where the item he chose proceeded to get stuck as it was coming out. (I'm so glad these things don't just happen to me) Anyway Chris went to the front desk and asked for someone to come help him.

About five minutes after they returned and he relayed everything that had happened (even though I watched the whole thing) some man came over and said he was just at the desk and overheard my son when he asked for help and wanted to compliment Chris on his "fine manners". Apparently the guy
 knows my dad and uncle from some bowling league and he said "I just had to find out who this young man belonged to because he is so polite."

Can I just say how pleased I was? So pleased. I thanked the man for his compliments. And of course I hugged Chris and praised him for being so polite.

I want Chris to be a gentleman, kind and polite. Sometimes I wonder if my life lessons are sinking in, especially when there are so many negative influences around. And then this happens. I guess I am getting through.

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!