Link Love At It's Finest

In response to a plea from the Very Cute and Tall John, below is a link to his Relay for Life site. John will be participating in this event to raise money for cancer research. I can't think of anyone who wouldn't think that's a good idea. So please click here and share a little love in the color of green.

John's Relay For Life Site

But I couldn't link to John without mentioning the Lovely and Diminutive Singing-Lisa, who is walking for breast cancer at the end of this month. She likes green love too.

Singing-Lisa's Avon Walk For Breast Cancer Site

Thanks for playing, everyone!

Photo Blogalism

In Pet News...

This fish is new. Her name is Mame and I vow to be more responsible in her care.



Part Muppet, part Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Taiko has gotten a clean bill of health from the Domestic Vet (as opposed to the Pole-Dancing Vet).



After a full week as the subject of PoopWatch 2006, we came home today to find that Stanley had finally pooped, his intestines remained inside his butt, and he ate 3 crickets.



In Kid News...

Mackenzie caused a ruckus at school yesterday when we straightened her hair.



It has been determined that when we move, I'll have to rip down this paneling from Dillon's room and drag it with me from house to house because I am a Mom and Moms can't bear to throw away (or paint over) any of their children's Artwork.

When Cloning Is the Goal

Scene:

Tater, Paige and Mac: setting the table for dinner

Dillon: sleeping through dinner (because that's what teenagers do)

Mac goes to put on some music. She chooses the soundtrack to Rent and the song, "Seasons of Love" comes on.

Tater: "This song is dorky."

Mac: "You wouldn't think so if you'd seen the movie."

Tater drops his towel and turns slowly around to face the two of us, "You know, that's just creepy."

Mac, offended, "Hey! It was a really good movie!"

Tater, defeated.

"No... That's exactly what your mom said when I told her last week that this song was dorky."

Paige, grinning to herself: "My work here is done."

Bob & Bob

News Flash!

Further Research Shows that Brandi Can Drink 3 Beers and 4 Caipirinhas and Still Fully Function the Next Day.

(But don't come over because I'm still in my jammies. But because I'm lazy today, not because I'm hungover. Let's make that Very Very clear.)

Yesterday started out normal enough. The plan was to go to Old Dominion Brewery for a tour. Which we did. Go to the brewery, that is. But as we drove up, after a 45 minute trip out there (me stuffed into the back of a Nissan between Tater and JB), and got out of the car (like a bunch of circus clowns), the first thing we saw was a sign on the door:

"No Tours Today."

And we all slowly turned and looked at Tater, our Social Director, as the other 4 cars of his co-workers and their wives converged on us. He started sputtering and his mouth hung open but because he's THAT anal, he was able to produce the email from the VP of Marketing with whom he set the tour up. So while he went in and looked for someone to yell at, we all went into the restaurant and got us some beers. Because if you can't look at beer, then drinking beer is the next best thing. It might actually be the first best thing.

Long story short - no tour, lots of beer and BSing and lunch. And we renamed all the boys Bob so the girls didn't have to remember everyone's names.

Jeff and Singing-Lisa came too. And they brought their friend Bert who we also named Bob. We had heard about Bob for 10 years. We had never met Bob. But now we have and we LOVE Bob. He is hilarious and an Apple guy and a Nikon guy and a former Navy pilot and Tater's long lost twin. See?



The night was still young when we left the brewery so we came back here and got take-out chili. And drank Caipirinhas, allowing me to have fun and conduct my important research at the same time.

Drunk Jeff:

Drunk Brandi:

Drunk Bob:

Drunk Bob:

Sober Singing-Lisa:

Credit Where Credit Is Due

It was pointed out to me yesterday by the Lovely and Diminutive Singing-Lisa that I neglected to credit her for the discovery of the Caipirinha during a trip to Brazil last fall.

So it is thanks to her that my beverage-happiness-cup overfloweth.

With cachaca and sugar and limes...

Muchas Gracias, Chica!

Judging By the Look On the Offspring's Faces, I Think I Am

I was just reading this article.

About two-thirds of the way down it says this:

"It is a hip location that is constantly playing Prefuse 73–style blip-hop and specializes in gourmet coffee drinks."

I don't know what that means. What does that mean?

And does it mean that I am old and losing my "hip"?

Playing Catch-Up

Tagged by John:

Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies?

Wizard of Oz.... Both, I guess.

What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death?

Politics. I know. "Civic Responsibility"* and all, but if you knew me then you’d know that I’m not the most responsible cow in the pasture and you wouldn't be surprised at that answer.

MP3s, CDs, Tapes or Records: what is your favorite medium for prerecorded music?

Duh. MP3’s. Tapes? Is that really an option anymore?

You are handed one first class trip plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars cash. All of this is yours provided that you leave and not tell anyone where you are going. Ever. This includes family, friends, everyone. Would you take the money and ticket and run?

Never. Everyone knows that my friends and family are more important to me than any amount of money. My apathy towards earning and the energy I put into fun illustrate this point perfectly.

Seriously, what do you consider the world's most pressing issue now?

Parent’s inability to control and reluctance to discipline their children.

How would you rectify the world's most pressing issue?

Parenting licenses. Prove you’re capable. And smacking the idiots. Upside the head. Without repurcussion.

You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life; what would that be?

Really, you should just look here: Regrets

You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would that be?

Slave ownership in the US.

A night at the opera or a night at the Grand Ole' Opry? Which do you choose?

“Scalp the tickets. Head to the bar with a few friends. Ta da.” – John

Go to the bar with John. His plan is WAY more fun. Unless I need a nap.

What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you'd like to solve?

Seriously? I’ve had a long day. Ok. That Jon-Benet thing is still bothering me.

One famous author can come to dinner with you. Who would that be, and what would you serve for the meal?

Anne Frank. Lasagne. She needs the carbs.

You discover that John Lennon was right, that there is no hell below us, and above us there is only sky. What's the first immoral thing you might do to celebrate this fact?

It’s entirely too late for this question. At this point I can only hope that JL was right.

Tagging:

Annie
Jes

I'd really like to hear your answers on a few of these.

(*Annie doesn't dust.) :)

Name That Dysfunction

I am SO not kidding. I've lost my book for the third time.

I didn't tell you about the second time I lost it because I was too embarrassed. But now I deserve for you, The Internet, to know that I am such an airhead that I've again lost a book that has approximately 150 pages* that I've been reading for a month, and am only a miserly 70 pages into.

*But really, who knows? I'd check, but OH! It's not here! I lost it again, in case you hadn't heard. Wait. Annie knows. How many pages, Girlfriend?

I had it at the dentist office Tuesday afternoon and seem to remember it being in my bag on Wednesday morning when I saw it and thought, "Huh. I don't need this at work, I should take it out and leave it here." Now it's gone and truthfully, I could have made all that last part up. Maybe it's at the dentist's office. We'll find out next week when I have to go back.

When I can find it, and find time to read it, it seems to be funny. But I've taken so long to read it that I've almost lost interest.

Which leads me to wonder... can Adult ADD present in 38 year olds who have never had any indications of ADD in the past?

Or is that called Alzheimers?

What Do You Call It When Your Lizard Is Recovering From His Second Surgery In Two Days: Post-Post-Op? Or Post-Op-Op?

Got home from work at 4pm, checked on Stanley. Saw intestines. Called Pole-dancing Vet.

One more surgery, Two more stitches.

Crossing all ten fingers.

Post-Op Stanley

And Dillon's happy:


I had to leave work early today (though "Lizard Emergency" was nowhere to be found in the company policy). The vet saw him at 1:15 and he was anesthetized and in surgery by 2:00 (while I ran Dillon to the dentist). Stanley's insides are back inside where they belong, held in place with 2 sutures. We have a follow-up appointment in 2 weeks and are crossing our fingers that the surgery worked and it won't happen again.

At Some Point You're Going To Think I'm Making This All Up.

So tomorrow I have to find a Herp Vet. Stanley has a prolapse. His intestines or rectum (or something equally internal) is sticking out his bum.

But as it was noticed at 6pm we needed to try a home remedy:

Send Dillon to CVS for Preparation-H, K-Y Jelly & Saline Solution. As he walks out the door, he hollers, "Do you want to add on some condoms or tampons to make my humiliation complete?" (Desperately wish I was there to see him approach register with crazy assortment of personal items. Laugh in an evil manner to myself.)

Rinse off exposed tissue with saline solution.

Soak lizard in a lukewarm sugar/water solution (3/4 c. sugar , 1 1/2 c. water) for 10-20 minutes. (Multi-task. Do this while cooking shortribs in a red wine/mustard sauce. It makes lizard VERY nervous. He is afraid he's marinating and keeps trying to climb the sides of the Rubbermaid shoebox lizard spa he is bathing in.)

Meanwhile, have Dillon clean out tank to remove all substrate and replace with newspaper. Have Mac hold her hands over Stanley to comfort him.

Take lizard out of water and gently remove any substrate remaining on his intestines.

Apply Preparation-H with Q-Tip.

Apply K-Y Jelly to fingers and gently try to push butt back in.

Find yourself unsuccessful (I am not a Trained Medical Professional) while realizing that Dillon has an appointment with the Dentist tomorrow for initial molds for Invisalign, thus interfering with Emergency Vet Plan A. (Realize, absurdly, that Dentist may need to be put off for Exotic Vet*.)

*On reread, this conjures up a woman in stilletos and a labcoat pole dancing. Dare me to make the call with a straight face.

Lube tissue up and take Stanley back up to his new sterile habitat. Notice that Dillon lined cage with the funny papers. (Think what a thoughtful kid he is. Smile.)

Put Stanley on tree branch and apoligize to him for having such a shitty day. With his butt hanging out and all...

Go to bed worrying not about the Spousal Unit or Babies or Dog. Worry about the lizard.

Wonder... Could my life get any weirder?

Problem Solved

As a result of extensive research, I can now report that while 2 glasses of wine make me feel like Holy Hell the next day, I can drink 3 (or 4 - lost count) Caipirinhas with no ill effects whatsoever. I can even go to work at 9am on a Saturday morning. Might be a handy bit of information to keep track of after a particularly trying Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday with the Crazies.

I Get the Blank Stare A Lot

(I have a lot of new readers, so I'll pre-empt this post with a Public Service Announcement: I work part-time in the office of our Home Owner's Association. I'm the only one in the office. This is one of the reasons I took this job.)

So. There are two openings on the Architectural Committee. The President of the Association was in my office today for a meeting with the property manager, Beth, when he turned to me (because I live in the neighborhood) and asked, "Paige, do you know any women who might be interested in serving on the committee?"

"I don't know any women."

Blank stare.

"Seriously. I don't have friends. Besides Beth."

Blank stare.

So, Beth, sensing his confusion, goes, "Really. It's the weirdest thing. She really doesn't have any friends here."

Duane can't fathom this. He says, "Paul thinks you were a cheerleader in college."

"I get accused of that a lot... and of being in a sorority."

Blank stare.

Beth, moving the communications along, "She was a gymnast and diver in high school."

Duane, "Huh. Ok."

After he left, and I replayed that conversation in my head, I felt pretty pathetic. Not enough to start being sociable, but enough to call him and tell him that I DO have girlfriends, they are just scattered around the world.

And probably not interested in being on the Architectural Committee.

When Marriage, The Institution, Is Having An Off Day. In Explicit Detail.

So he comes off the night watch this morning and moseys into the bedroom where I'm getting dressed. And he grins at me and says, "Good Morning, Sleepyhead", and he kisses me and while feeling me up, says:

"Are you getting shorter or are these getting lower?"

Charming.

And when my mouth fell open, and I took a step back with a look of disgust, it only took him a split-second to realize what he said and came after me saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. You have great boobs."

While laughing.

Good thing I got up on the right side of the bed.

And the groveling. The groveling helped.

The Dalai Mama

I grew up thinking my parents had a perfect relationship. I saw them argue, I heard them argue, but every night, when my dad came home, he went up to the kitchen where Mom was usually preparing dinner and he held her. And he kissed her. And he squeezed her butt and made her giggle and I knew they were happy.

So when I got married, I expected that in the end, as long as the bottom line was that you loved each other, any marriage could succeed.

And then I got divorced, in a failure of epic proportions.

A year later, a man, a boy, really, asked me to marry him. And I said yes, but I had my reservations. I had failed so miserably before that I didn't trust my own instincts.

I talked with my mom. I told her my fears, my concerns, my doubts. We talked for a long time, about what, exactly, I can't recall, but one thing she said has stayed with me during these past 15 years. It's the voice of reason in my head when Marriage, the Institution, is having an off day.

I had told her that I wanted to have a relationship like she had with Dad.

And she looked at me and she laughed gently and she said, "Paige. My life hasn't always been what I had imagined. There were days that I wanted to pack my bags and walk out that door and not look back. But I didn't. I stayed because I knew that Life with your Dad was better than Life without him."

That day, she taught me that marriage, no matter how it looks on the outside, is work on the inside. And that it was ok to have doubts; that Marriage is worth the effort as long as the end result does not subtract from my Self.

My Little Carrie Bradshaw

Marvelous
Adorable
Curious
Kooky
Energetic
Novel
Zippy
Incomprable
Enthusiastic

Dinner and A Show

Apparently, several years ago, I called Mackenzie a lesbian.

I don't remember it that way. I do remember noticing aloud, in front of her, Tater and Dillon, how she never played with the Barbies, the dolls, the princess costumes that other little girls seemed to immerse themselves in and instead spent her playtime with the Brio train, blocks, and Legos. How she refused to wear dresses and while boys were super-fun to play with, the suggestion that she may one day grow up to marry or even kiss one caused her to shriek in horror.

Apparently, the way I noticed this sounded a lot like, "Gee, I think Mackenzie might be a lesbian." She was five.

Then recently, the rest of the family has said a couple of other things that, on their own, were pretty benign, but coupled with my earlier observation, sounded a lot like, "Huh, Mackenzie might be a lesbian."

So, last night, when she came home and told Dillon and I during dinner that she had made the Drama Club, and then Dillon said, in all sincerity, "I can see her going to high school and being a thespian", she had every right to completely drop sync with sanity and scream at us, "I AM NOT A LESBIAN!!!"

At which point Dillon and I looked at each other, our mouths dropped open (for Mackenzie never yells), and we howled with laughter. Tears were squirting out our eyes, stomach muscles were cramping, we gasped for air.

And then explained to her the difference between thespian and lesbian.

How About Maleficent?

...But that's harder to say than Evil Queen.

Lady Tremaine?

(She does make me dust when I go over.)

Ursula?

Lilith?

And finally, to answer this question:

"Do I need to research an "i" name or are they assigned? Maybe a weather name- Sunni, Mysti, Rayni? You know, vintage stripper. ~Annie"

It need not be an "i" name, but "i" names are more fun, racy, (let's call a spade a spade)... slutty. And at one time, that was the goal. Except for Muffinbottom and Bubbles. Well, Muffinbottom (Muff for short) was an accident. But then I liked it. And, I was going for embarrassing. It worked. A Southern Belle will cringe every time you call her "Muff".

ANyway, here's a start, I'll keep thinking.

Heeeere's Your Sign!

What kind of a Girl is Candi again?

Attention! Candi, Mandi, Muffinbottom (Muff for short) & Bubbles!!

The Unparalleled Annie* needs a Cherry Girl Name. And seeing as how she, Carolyn and I were the only 3 wives hanging out showing our dedication at the Warlord sign planting at Matt's room, I think she deserves one. Put your thinking caps on!

*Yes, she IS the Evil Queen, but what kind of a nickname is that? I mean, do we really want to walk around saying, "Hey, Evil Queen, want another Lava Flow?...Hey, Evil Queen, what do you think of that new vibrator that's out?"

xoxoxoxo Brandi

For Jes:

But mostly for Bella. (If she could read.)

Tagged By Nicole...

If you could have five autographs of anyone, living or dead, who would they be?

I only did living because getting that close to a dead person... eww.

Much like Nicole, I couldn't care less about autographs. But. It does seem like it'd be a good opportunity to get near someone I'd like to talk to...

So. (In no particular order) I'd like to get stalker-close to:

Oprah
Jon Stewart - unfortunate timing with the Oscars being last night
Muhammad Ali
A Holocaust survivor.
Harper Lee

What's A Girl To Do When She's Got Nothing To Say?

Post pictures!

Dillon and Stanley:



The look on Dog's face when I'm eating ice cream and not sharing...






















Dillon on his way to the Winter Sports Banquet. I crack him up.





























Oh yeah, and I killed 5 of Mackenzie's fish yesterday. It was an accident.

And, there are no pictures of her because she is sick with a cold and miserable. Not so cute today.

Please. Shoot Me Now.

Oh. My. God.

I had Two. Two glasses of wine last night.

And woke up with my head pounding and my stomach churning at 7am.

Went back to sleep. Need more sleep.

Woke up at 9:30. Can't get out of bed. Watch HGTV.

10:30. Must get up.

Downstairs. Plant butt on couch. Wait to die.

Lament. It was ONLY two glasses of wine!

(Granted, I have Ginormous, Bulbous, Wineglasses... But still.)

12:30. Today must start sometime. Take 3 Excedrin Migraine. Make Strong Coffee.

(Mmmm! Coffee! And I have biscotti! Yay! Eat biscotti. Taste anise. Shit. I hate anise. Give rest to Dillon. He'll eat anything.)

It occurs to me that Two Glasses of Wine should not make me feel like this. This is why I stopped drinking red wine. The sulfites...

Check back of Chardonnay bottle:

CONTAINS SULFITES

Pour out remaining sip of Chardonnay.

Vow to stick to Hard Liquor.

This Is Hannah

Hannah is my niece. My sister Alison's 6-year-old girl-baby (Though how she ended up in her uterus and not mine, I'll never know. She is more me than she is either one of her parents.). And she just called me. But I was on the phone with my mom so I had to call her back. But by the time I did so, about 10 minutes later, all Hell was on the verge of breaking loose...

When I called her back, she said she wanted to know when was I going to send her a package for her birthday. I could hear Alison in the background telling her, "No, that's not why you called. Remember? It's right here. Tell Auntie about this."

"BUT I DON'T KNOW HOWWWWWWWWW! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!", she wailed, despite the fact that she had apparently just left a fairly coherent message on my cell phone. And while my sister was gently trying to remind her why she had called me in the first place, a meltdown of nuclear proportions was brewing. Alison was showing her the "thing", Hannah's crying was getting louder, and about the time I heard Ali say, "OK then, just go to your room.", I hollered (so hopefully they could hear me over the ruckus), "Let me talk to her!"

I had gathered by now that it was some homework thing she had called to ask me for help. So I got her on the phone and asked, "Hannah, is it some homework?"

Anguished. "YEEEEEEESSSSS!"

(Now, if you've never seen Hannah cry, then you must know that is is Very Dramatic indeed. Her face gets red, and her beautiful blue eyes fill with tears, her blonde hair sticks to her wet cheeks, and her bawling mixes with her talking so that anything she tries to say comes out wet and gooey and impossible to understand. Especially from 600 miles away.)

"Is it Math homework?"

Distressed. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Is it Reading homework?

Tortured. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO... IT'S A GAWBAREAADAH HABBBAEDAAGA POOOOEEEEEEMMMMMMMM!"

And, thankfully, I heard Ali in the background, "Hannah, do you want me to tell her what it is and then she can help you?"

(Yes! YES!! Please say YES, Hannah!)

Sniffly and snuffly, "Uh-huh."

"Ok. It's a name poem. She has to come up with a word for each of her letters that describes herself."

"Cool. Ok, Hannah? What's the first letter of your name?"

Weepy and defeated. "H."

"Ok. We need a word that describes you and starts with 'H'."

Gloomy. "I already have one."

"Great! What is it?"

"Happy."

Which made me laugh out loud. "Ok. (If you say so.)" And I could hear Ali cracking up in the background.

"What's next?"

"A. I have 'All-Star'."

"Good one! What's next?"

"N."

Silence.... I'm thinking. Mumbling, "something that describes Hannah that starts with 'N'....(thinking).........(thinking)....... Honey, all that comes to mind is 'Naughty'."

At which point, Ali, who can hear me, loses it, "That's the first thing I thought of too!" And even Hannah had to laugh at that. Because she is. No sense in anyone denying it.

"But we can't use that. (Thinking)..... (thinking)..... How about we come back to 'N'? What's next?"

Hannah laughs. "N."

"After that."

"A."

"How about 'Awesome'?"

"Yeah!" She likes that. I can hear her smile.

"I have an 'N'! 'Nice'!"

"Yeah!" she shouts.

"I have another one! 'Nature Girl'! You love nature!"

Gleeful. "Yeah!"

"What's next?"

Joyful. "H."

"Hows about 'Hilarious'?"

"I had 'Hippie-Girl." (THAT'S my girl!)

"Ooh! That's a really good one.

Now she's laughing. "Yeah, but how do you spell 'Hilarious'?"

And so ended a conversation that started with the saddest Kindergartener on the planet. She is:

Happy
All-Star
Nice
Nature-Girl
Awesome, and
Hilarious

And I love her.

So You Don't Worry...

I found my book. It was between a People mag and Pottery Barn catalogue.

Whew.

Catastrophe averted.

Yay! Blogger is Loading Fast Again! Alternate title: Boring As Hell

Apparently, my patience is next to nil these days. Blogger was loading so slow that I would start loading a page and then head off to the kitchen for a drink or click to comment and then go throw some whites in the washing machine, only to come back and have it half-loaded or time-out completely.

And it was pissing me off.

So I didn't even try to post. I figured that I'd type out an incredibly insightful and witty essay, probably my best ever, only to have it disappear into cyberspace and send me over the deep end.

And I don't need that.

What I do need is a copy of that book over there. Look to the right. In my list of Linkity-Goodness. See how I'm supposed to be reading The Sex Lives of Cannibals? Well, I'm not. I lost it last weekend. And I can't find it anywhere. It's not at work, it's not in my car, not on my nightstand... I even looked in the sofa cushions. Not there. I have no clue what I did with it and at this rate, I'm going to have to backtrack and re-read the four or so chapters I had already digested. And I despise that.

I also despise Things That Are Complicated. Enter the SAT.

So I signed Dillon up for the SAT tonight. Cost me 60 bucks. I don't remember it costing so much last time I checked. (Granted, that was 1984. And I wasn't paying.) And now you have to go online and fill out a bunch of questionnaires and answer a bunch of questions and I didn't want to do that. I just wanted to send him to the school with a check, and on the appropriate day drop him off early at school (Or better yet! Let him drive himself!) and be done with it. But I guess it doesn't work that way anymore. Technology has, ironically, made things harder. Bummer. They also expect the parents to go to a whole mess of meetings at the school. I don't remember my parents doing all that. When did everything get so complicated?

Gah! Look at what a mess this post is! I'm out of practice.

Let's blame it on Blogger.

Is it just me...

or is it taking everyone F O R E V E R to get to each page of Blogger? Seriously. Several minutes to open each page and comments. I've tried to post since Sunday but I just don't have the time to sit around waiting for each page to load.