tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20199995243573946722024-03-14T14:48:47.214-04:00Out Went the LightCurating Humor Since 2012Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.comBlogger222125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-29462399250369129882017-10-17T14:51:00.000-04:002017-10-17T16:58:50.618-04:00StorytellingSorry I'm late, but I've been busy for the last two years. I've come out of retirement because of Harvey Weinstein and Lauren Duca. Lauren is the brave and astute Teen Vogue op-ed columnist who has taken on everyone from <a href="https://www.salon.com/2017/06/10/tucker-carlson-randomly-renews-his-feud-with-problem-lauren-duca/">Tucker Carlson</a> to <a href="http://www.businessinsider.com/martin-shkreli-suspended-twitter-harassing-female-journalist-lauren-duca-2017-1">Martin Shkreli</a> internet <a href="https://www.teenvogue.com/story/lauren-duca-internet-trolls-online-harassment">trolls</a> (she attracts a certain type of adversary.) Harvey is the former head of Miramax and the Weinstein Company who is also a serial sexual predator. Someone more clever than I am commented that, in fact, he is a sexual predator who, incidentally, made movies. In Lauren's <a href="https://www.teenvogue.com/story/harvey-weinstein-is-more-proof-that-we-can-take-down-the-patriarchy-with-storytelling">most recent column</a>, she stated that, "[t]he patriarchy is built on our silence, but there is an undeniable feminist power in our storytelling." So, here's my story.<br />
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I was seven when I started third grade. Because of elementary school consolidations, I was bused to a new school across town, with a few neighborhood friends and a lot of kids I didn't know. I was an anxious, sensitive kid who liked to curl up in our living room wing chair to read Nancy Drew mysteries and block out the world. The year was already shaping up to be a difficult one, for a shy child who disliked change and was anxious in new situations. To the outside world, however, I looked like a kid in an advertisement for milk or white bread or something quintessentially all-American and wholesome. And there was a boy in a different third grade class, who apparently had a thing for all-American, wholesome-looking little girls, because he (without ever speaking to me) developed an immediate obsession with me. This was not a harmless crush or a fleeting schoolyard romance that starts at the beginning of recess and ends before the bell rings. Throughout the year, it became clear that he was not going to get over his interest in me quickly or without collateral damage. </div>
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Every day a classmate would approach me with the novel news, "Henry* likes you. He wants to talk to you." I would react in one of three ways, depending on how emotionally strong I was that day. I might cry or physically lash out at my classmate or I would just shrug and walk away. Once on the playground, Henry's friend gave me flowers that Henry had picked for me. "I don't want these," I said throwing them back at Henry's friend. "He just likes you. He just wants to talk to you." I didn't want to talk to Henry. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to fly by anonymously and unmolested under the radar. Once my classroom teacher allowed Henry into our empty classroom and he left flowers and a note on my desk. I blushed furiously and rushed into the class to grab the offerings and throw them in the trash before anyone saw them. My teacher (a man) told me, "he just has a crush on you. It's a compliment. You're really hurting his feelings by not talking to him." When I still refused to talk to Henry, my teacher frowned in disappointment. </div>
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As the year went on, my emotional strength waned. I wasn't sleeping and my anxiety ratcheted up to a painful degree. There was more kicking and yelling and less walking away. I pretended to be sick so I could stay home. I didn't pay attention in class. I was deeply depressed, but I didn't tell my parents what was happening because I was ashamed. I was embarrassed that I had done something inappropriate to attract all this attention. As it turned out, the school took care of the issue and someone - a counselor, my teacher, I don't know - called my parents to express their concerns that I was acting out. It was enough of a problem that I was dragged off to a therapist for a screening appointment to start group therapy, so I could commune with other "troubled" kids. </div>
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Never once, during this ordeal, did anyone tell this boy to stand the fuck down. No one blamed him for harassing me or sending his friends to pester and cajole me into talking to him. No one told the other kids, who weren't even his friends, but enjoyed getting a reaction out of me when they mentioned Henry, to leave me alone. No one said to Henry, "it is wholly inappropriate to have strong romantic feelings at age eight. Leave this poor girl alone, get some therapy, and go play four-square." How did he interpret the adults' reactions to this situation? I have no idea, but I can imagine he assumed that it's okay to doggedly pursue girls who repeatedly rebuff your advances. If you've listened to Harvey Weinstein, and the <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/10/harvey-weinstein-audio-tape">recording</a> of his advances on actress Ambra Battilana Gutierrez, you can see the result of that type of lesson. The lesson to me was clear: Just be nice. Just talk to him. Your reaction is the problem. Be more compliant. Be a better victim. </div>
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This experience has impacted my entire life. Looking back at a vantage point of nearly 40 years, I can see a patterns in my behavior and reactions with roots in third grade at Irving Primary School, where I learned passivity and submission. There were times when I wasn't really interested in a guy, but I would still go out with him because I had been stripped of my own agency at such a young age. Then I'd get called a slut because I was dating around too much. When I was harassed at work or school, an all-too common occurrence, I never made a big deal about it. I'd been taught that I couldn't prevent unwanted comments and advances, so the best thing to do was to act like a good sport about the harassment and remove myself from the situations that felt most dangerous. I never reported anything or complained to people in authority. Why would I when my experience with authority figures was them siding with my tormenter?<br />
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So, that's my first story. There are others, but the origin story for all of my experiences is right there at Irving School with a little girl who learned early to pipe down and deal with abuse because no one likes a complainer. </div>
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*Name changed because I don't like to think about his real name. Yes, still. </div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-14198733696932172682015-01-30T11:28:00.001-05:002015-01-30T12:32:54.272-05:00RH - Visit to Atlanta's New Restoration Hardware GalleryYou know you're getting old when you can remember when IHOP was the International House of Pancakes, KFC was Kentucky Fried Chicken, and RH was Restoration Hardware. Of the three, the rebranding of Restoration Hardware probably makes the most sense. IHOP still sells pancakes and KFC is still all about chicken, but RH's hardware selection is dwarfed by the store's inventory of beige linen-covered furniture. As a part of RH's rebranding, the company is leaving the malls and opening stand-alone stores around the country. The stores are understated, quaint, and restrained in the tradition of Candy Spelling, Marie-Antoinette or Mariah Carey. That is to say, not understated, quaint, or restrained in the least.<br />
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Right before Christmas, I received an email from RH announcing the opening of its Atlanta store. I give you understated:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.investors.com/image/NA_RH_141202.jpg.cms" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.investors.com/image/NA_RH_141202.jpg.cms" height="412" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.investors.com/120114-728529-restoration-hardware-bets-on-gigantic-stores.htm?ven=schf&src=aurlhdz">via</a></td></tr>
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It's called "The Gallery at the Estate in Buckhead," which makes it sound like an English country home and not like a retail store located next to Cheesecake Factory (a closed Cheesecake Factory, no less). Here is the description from my email:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHosQbFKThCqpC8OPaExbntQsjD8jKgk5O5UK_chOWd9u39IhUOrAkQ4nvpYmmbYKDwEgegDS-hib12qCjAH24jTu-sC2rIZ5d8XcUckag9eLt_Y8A0F-Al0SynQYRSUc-c2kLMzaUnnOI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+1.34.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHosQbFKThCqpC8OPaExbntQsjD8jKgk5O5UK_chOWd9u39IhUOrAkQ4nvpYmmbYKDwEgegDS-hib12qCjAH24jTu-sC2rIZ5d8XcUckag9eLt_Y8A0F-Al0SynQYRSUc-c2kLMzaUnnOI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+1.34.50+PM.png" height="83" width="640" /></a></div>
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RH had me at the "decomposed granite" (which I am not fancy enough to recognize as fancy landscaping materials, but instead makes me think of decomposed bodies). Naturally, when my friend Elizabeth suggested that we make a day of gawking at the grandeur of The Gallery at the Estate in Buckhead and then eating at The Shack of Shakes at Across the Street from The Gallery at the Estate in Buckhead, I was all in. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>One thing I should say is that I own some RH items that I use and enjoy as much as you can enjoy utilitarian household goods. When we renovated our house, I bought RH sconces for the bathrooms, RH knobs for two of the bathroom vanities, and RH towels for the bathrooms back when RH made bath linens in colors other than shades of brown and grey. But, sometimes between 2006 and today, RH started selling stuff like "deconstructed chairs" for $1200:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFsHfzklMnKRlFj8Shsoh0z8bDDL01nD7kq4XLPP5XueeLreP1BV1kO_JlVH0At97hwwk7-9JvJeJFj1OkNGvtiI9KbqXgG9GAPwIOPgTe0QkGwgdfjszopZBspMrqQBSnklELB8IkU32/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+2.18.44+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFsHfzklMnKRlFj8Shsoh0z8bDDL01nD7kq4XLPP5XueeLreP1BV1kO_JlVH0At97hwwk7-9JvJeJFj1OkNGvtiI9KbqXgG9GAPwIOPgTe0QkGwgdfjszopZBspMrqQBSnklELB8IkU32/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+2.18.44+PM.png" height="203" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.restorationhardware.com/catalog/category/products.jsp?link=DeconstructedChairs&categoryId=cat2390483">via</a></td></tr>
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and, I apologize for being all "get off my lawn," but the chair has no sides or back and for $1200 I want my chair to have sides and a back. I feel about this chair the same way I feel about sky-diving. For the cost of sky diving, I could probably buy a round-trip plane ticket, go someplace nice, and not have to jump out of a plane. </div>
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But, not everything is deconstructed and decaying at RH, and the store is very impressive in person. From the outside, it looks like a classically designed museum built out of concrete instead of limestone or granite. You drive around the back of the building where you can drop your car with a valet, or, less conspicuously obvious, pull into the garage (which I expect they pronounce GAH-raj). Adjacent to the driveway is an expansive outdoor area that looks like the perfect setting for a wedding reception (aside from the fact that it's next to a parking garage). I didn't get a chance to take a picture, but here's one from the promotional email RH sent out:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0cmMNM7viMtzHm3yeMW21HDrwiK3DiRR8z7d4uC2jO7nVzPTnOhKbM6GdOxw-O-AbSBDRlMJ7uNeinhisZw3W-yUo3fs7jJrEzz1zPn85RBrSmkUzdTqg9POkj3zR6ODP_9dfmBl7um7/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-30+at+10.34.20+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0cmMNM7viMtzHm3yeMW21HDrwiK3DiRR8z7d4uC2jO7nVzPTnOhKbM6GdOxw-O-AbSBDRlMJ7uNeinhisZw3W-yUo3fs7jJrEzz1zPn85RBrSmkUzdTqg9POkj3zR6ODP_9dfmBl7um7/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-30+at+10.34.20+AM.png" height="384" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In case you were wondering about the decomposed granite, here it is. It's hard to know whether the Bosque Elms<br />
are really not so towering, or if they just look small when compared with those gigantic lanterns.</td></tr>
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We valeted and entered the "grand entry's 36-foot-tall open air <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/oculus">oculus</a> - awash in natural light and lit by a dramatic 8-foot crystal chandelier at night..." To wit:<br />
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Again, the picture and blurb are from the promotional email RH sent out about the new store. The space is impressive, but I was torn between liking the appearance of the furniture, while simultaneously resenting it for its impracticality and inability to survive the conditions in my house. You know how long that gigantic white sofa would last in my home? Zero seconds because it wouldn't fit through my door. Even if we wedged it in somehow, it would take up the entire downstairs of our bungalow. And don't get me started on the white linen upholstery. This sofa is like the cute boy from high school who will never go out with you. I am so Taylor Swifting this sofa. (Just so you know, Taylor Swift is now a verb. I can make up words, too, RH. <i>OCULUS</i>.)<br />
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The sales person (who I'm sure is called a customer liaison guide or something) recommended that we start on the top floor and work our way down. The sixth floor is the famous "rooftop park and conservatory" that we heard about in the promotional email. I agree that the rooftop park and conservatory do offer "stunning views of the Atlanta skyline." But, I just kept thinking, "this is a <i>store</i>." I'm not so sure that I need stunning views of the Atlanta skyline increases my desire to buy furniture.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcj7kgD5e14M9SlKHMXKNzkEuP1uqT8C-IUyf3T1f7oVypL0M03Yh1tMyGGUWT-Ck1utY_T2ADOX5tdvtc0Uaaczkfe-9Ghu_m-fIPNDbCGfEjcT096HLfnFuJgQGB26NFUNp4h23OlCqI/s1600/IMG_3593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcj7kgD5e14M9SlKHMXKNzkEuP1uqT8C-IUyf3T1f7oVypL0M03Yh1tMyGGUWT-Ck1utY_T2ADOX5tdvtc0Uaaczkfe-9Ghu_m-fIPNDbCGfEjcT096HLfnFuJgQGB26NFUNp4h23OlCqI/s1600/IMG_3593.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rooftop terrace with trickling fountains.<br />
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While we were testing out all the furniture in the conservatory, our friend <a href="http://www.bluemopheads.blogspot.com/">Maureen</a> joined us. We all liked this terrarium:<br />
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I suspect we all liked it for different reasons. I liked it because it reminded me of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spaceship_Earth_(Epcot)">Spaceship Earth</a> ride at Epcot. For something completely different (not really), the furniture in the conservatory was all white linen. I think they were slipcovered, though, so there's the illusion of washability.<br />
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The next floor was reserved for "small spaces" and it's the floor that I took most seriously because the furniture is scaled to the side of an efficiency apartment, which means there's a slim chance it will fit in my house. The interesting thing is that it was probably the least appealing floor, aesthetically. After walking through rooms with 14-foot ceilings and sitting in furniture made for a clan of giants, the "small spaces" rooms seemed slightly cramped and claustrophobic.<br />
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The floor devoted to children's furniture was far more entertaining. Here's what you can buy for your (diaper-wearing, spit-up spewing) baby to not sleep in because babies prefer sleeping in an infant carseat to a crib:<br />
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Between the lighting and the draping, it all seemed like a baby altar from the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dauphin_of_France">Dauphin</a> collection. Everyone complains about how kids today act so entitled. Well, maybe it's because their parents are putting them to sleep in a baby shrine underneath a gigantic crown. <br />
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The crowns were a reoccurring theme in RH baby & child land. Here we see some crowns made of heavy felt on the table:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do think that a padded bunk bed is a good idea so that when the kids play WWF and<br />
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Those crowns aren't tacky enough to attract any of my children. (The girls, that is. The Boy has a thing against costumes.)<br />
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I sort of scratched my head about this decor choice:<br />
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Ummmm. I just feel like my children would be upset if their stuffed animals were decapitated and mounted on their walls. Also, aren't elephants and rhinoceros endangered? Do we really want to encourage our children to engage in poaching? I'm not going to even say anything about the scale problems of a bear head only being a teensy bit bigger than a rabbit head. Well, I guess I just did.<br />
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I can't remember what the next floor was called, so I'm going to call it the <a href="http://aliceinwonderland.wikia.com/wiki/Drink_Me_Potion">Alice in Wonderland Drink Me</a> floor. The furniture was so comically big that when Maureen sat back on a big leather sofa, the end of the seat cushion was at her ankle, so her legs stuck out straight. Elizabeth and I are taller, so we fit somewhat better:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUFAUhdHwXrhQ6FfyQSOSS4GtbQgrbzZUf_Xjds79h6VE43V8L40HTejHXyQ5yVtAPQMChjRB8SfWVP8VZ76lvbMkkqBeQQ01PqK6AujVoVoscdS9-MtvVVpxD6Fnlz38OMdgQs0EV-lL/s1600/IMG_3585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUFAUhdHwXrhQ6FfyQSOSS4GtbQgrbzZUf_Xjds79h6VE43V8L40HTejHXyQ5yVtAPQMChjRB8SfWVP8VZ76lvbMkkqBeQQ01PqK6AujVoVoscdS9-MtvVVpxD6Fnlz38OMdgQs0EV-lL/s1600/IMG_3585.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd give that giant petrified <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Koosh-Ball-ONE-Select-Color/dp/B005K8OFCG">koosh</a> ball five seconds in my<br />
house before someone threw it at someone else.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The furniture was nice, but between the small spaces floor and the Alice in Wonderland floor, it was like there was some <i>Goldilocks and the Three Bears</i> business going on. I feel certain that was <i>not</i> what RH was going for with The Gallery at the Estate in Buckhead.<br />
<br />
We wrapped up our visit back in the oculus on the first floor. I tried to reconcile my feeling about The Abbey at the Palace in the Grove on the Stream over the Woods in Buckhead. It's totally amazing and beautiful, to be sure. However, it did not make me feel more enthusiastic about buying RH products than when I went to the nice store at the mall. There were also spaces, like the rooftop patio and the decomposed granite garden, that were more memorable for the how the space looked in its entirety, rather than for the furniture. In other words, the space wasn't <i>about </i>the furniture and the furniture didn't really enhance the space.<br />
<br />
As we were leaving, I asked one of the customer liaison guides about the new store.<br />
<br />
Me: So, are you going to, like, rent out the space for parties or events?<br />
CLG: You know, a lot of people have asked me that. I don't think so. I think they're worried about the liability.<br />
Me: Oh, of course. That rooftop deck, for sure!<br />
CLG: Also, we had a party for the grand opening and it was a nightmare to clean up. Red wine stains, you know.<br />
Me: (to myself) Well, duh! White linen upholstery! (aloud) I bet!<br />
CLG: There is talk about having a restaurant or a wine bar in the store. You know, make it like an all-in-one destination.<br />
Me: Oh that would be great! Just like Ikea!<br />
CLG: (condescending laugh) Oh, yes. <i>Just</i> like Ikea.<br />
<br />
With that, we adjourned for lunch at Shake Shack, where I thoroughly enjoyed my burger and shake even though there was no decomposed granite or soaring views of the Atlanta skyline.<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-28339348233959866402015-01-23T10:46:00.002-05:002015-01-23T10:46:16.167-05:00Matilda, the Baby, and MeFor Christmas, the Baby received a Kindle from my in-laws. They were incredibly generous with the children's gifts, which was much appreciated since the K has us all on austerity measures because of his <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2015/01/sayonara-2014.html">new job</a>. The Baby is <i>obsessed</i> with the Kindle and takes it with her everywhere. The Kindle was supposed to be a reward for learning how to read, although it is debatable that she's reached this milestone. But, if you listened to her struggle through all 15 pages of Paw Patrol's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chase-Case-Patrol-Step-Reading/dp/0385384475/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1421776468&sr=8-2&keywords=paw+patrol+books">Chase is on the Case</a> </i>in 20 minutes, while sounding out every other word, you'd agree that <i>someone</i> deserves a reward.<br />
<br />
Now, does she use the Kindle to read books? Of course not! She plays some creepy princess beauty parlor game, the free version of which assigns you a wrung-out looking princess with ashy skin and bags under her eyes who you spray, scrub, smooth, and spritz until she looks good enough to go shopping at Walmart. You can't get rid of all your princess's flaws unless you <i>buy</i> (with actual, real money) additional products and treatments. To which I say, Nope! The princess should not worry about her appearance, because it's what's <i>inside</i> that counts. The Baby responds by glaring at me and then at the imperfect virtual princess, probably thinking that the princess's insides are not part of the game.<br />
<br />
When she's not saying, "meh, I guess you'll do," to princesses on the Kindle, she's watching movies. Her favorite movie is <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matilda_(1996_film)">Matilda</a></i>. In case you're not familiar with <i>Matilda</i>, it is based on the Roald Dahl book and is about a brilliant little girl, Matilda Wormwood, who is misunderstood, unappreciated, and badly treated by her tacky, ignorant parents and older brother. Matilda's father enrolls her in a school run by the evil Miss Trunchbull, who belittles and bullies all the children. The one kind adult in the book is Matilda's teacher, Miss Honey. Eventually, Matilda realizes that she has telekinetic powers which she uses to vanquish Miss Trunchbull. When Matilda's parents flee to Guam to avoid being arrested for scamming customers at her father's used car dealership, Miss Honey adopts her and they live happily ever after. The movie stars Mara Wilson as the title character and Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman as her terrible parents.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.rogerebert.com/uploads/movie/movie_poster/matilda-1996/large_zvgm8Yckvd12iZFaXRXbblcRcO8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://static.rogerebert.com/uploads/movie/movie_poster/matilda-1996/large_zvgm8Yckvd12iZFaXRXbblcRcO8.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/matilda-1996">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At first I was unbothered by the fact that the Baby clearly identified strongly with Matilda and her persecution by all the despicable adults in her life. But, as her obsession grew, I started feeling defensive. I mean, I can totally see the similarities between the K and Danny DeVito. Used car salesman, lawyer - potato, potato, I say. Other than a 15 inch height difference, they're practically the same person. But, I'm an understanding, patient, saintly parent, nothing like Matilda's tacky, superficial mother. *Ahem* But, I didn't think that the Baby's <i>Matilda</i> binging would cause any harm. Sure, she might attempt to move objects with her mind, and maybe Miss Trunchbull's appearance would give her nightmares:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://doingfrance.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/ms-trunchbull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://doingfrance.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/ms-trunchbull.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And that's her good side.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
but I never could have predicted the lasting impact that <i>Matilda </i>would have on her.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a> A couple of days before holiday break was over, Mom and <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/hello-kitty-is-not-cat-and-other.html">Hello Puppy</a> came over for dinner. We had finished eating, Hello Puppy and Dog were tussling around in the kitchen, and the K, Mom, and I chatted at the dining room table. The Girl had just learned to <a href="http://www.decodir.com/how-to-make-pom-poms-from-yarn-diy-amp-crafts-decor.html">make yarn pom-pons</a>, so she kept coming downstairs from her room to show us her creations. I was secretly grateful that the skein of yarn (so that's how you spell 'skein') that I bought when she insisted that she wanted to learn to knit (which ended quicker than you can say, "cast on") was being put to good use.<br />
<br />
After making a bunch of pom-pons, I guess the Girl lost interest because the next thing I knew, the dogs were playing tug-of-war with the skein of yarn, which they must have fetched from the Girl's bedroom. I chased the dogs around between the living room and dining room, trying to get the yarn away from them. The dogs thought it was all an awesomely fun game, so they ran away so that we could keep playing. Ha, ha, ha. Dogs! I finally got the yarn and was about to tell the Girl to keep her things away from the dogs, and vice versa, when I heard the K shout, "oh no!" from our bathroom. The Baby shot by me like a streak and ran upstairs, slamming the door to her room behind her.<br />
<br />
This is often the way it is around our house. You're dealing with what you think must be the real crisis, but it's really just a distraction, a little side skirmish, and the big battle is out on the horizon and you have <i>no idea</i> that it's coming. I walked towards the bathroom and was hit with an overpowering smell, but not the kind you usually associate with bathrooms. The countertop was strewn with all of our toiletries. I'm not saying it's typically clean, but this looked like someone was interrupted mid-counter-sweep and just left everything where it fell. The K was rooting through the trash can.<br />
<br />
"Oh, God. What is that smell?" I asked.<br />
"<a href="http://www.experience-essential-oils.com/blue-tansy-essential-oil.html">Blue tansy</a>?" said the K,<br />
"Whaaaatttt???" The smell was reminiscent of Bath & Body Works or Yankee Candle, but 1000 times more intense.<br />
"It's an essential oil. For aromatherapy." I just stared at him. "It's supposed to relieve stress and irritation."<br />
"It's not working."<br />
"You're only supposed to use a few drops. It's really expensive." (Side note: Apparently an exception to the previously-mentioned austerity measures is buying essential oils.)<br />
"Who did this? What happened?" I asked, trying to make sense of the scene. The K located the blue tansy bottle in the garbage. "Thank goodness. There's still a lot left. She didn't use all of it."<br />
"The Baby?"<br />
"Yeah, when I came in, she was putting all sorts of lotions in her hair...and the blue tansy. Oh, shit. I'd better see if it's toxic." He went over to the laptop where he was the first person in Georgia to Google, "is blue tansy poisonous?"<br />
"I guess I should go check on her," I said, but only because that's my job. It was certainly not because I wanted to.<br />
<br />
The Baby had locked her door, but since she shares a Jack and Jill (in this case, a Jill and Jill) bathroom with the Girl, I tried the bathroom door. As I walked through the bathroom, I glanced at the garbage can and my stomach dropped. There, in the very full garbage can (do I have to do everything around here?) was this:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eZMsk0GBye5z_bneB5GYoe3U8DPK8k-q2TvmrSMJ3jfVXEPg7Nvcg7nxRBedmJLZUUZ2D48QnwTthrZpAzJjnQ7bqiK_a6R_ijAHGUAkOWrtVAtH7PPSPcGwxw94CEzqsTgrTPoFY-fx/s1600/IMG_3535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eZMsk0GBye5z_bneB5GYoe3U8DPK8k-q2TvmrSMJ3jfVXEPg7Nvcg7nxRBedmJLZUUZ2D48QnwTthrZpAzJjnQ7bqiK_a6R_ijAHGUAkOWrtVAtH7PPSPcGwxw94CEzqsTgrTPoFY-fx/s1600/IMG_3535.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
I looked at the counter and there were the scissors that the Girl had used to make her yarn pom-pons, sitting right next to another pile of blonde hair. I knocked on the Baby's door.<br />
<br />
"Go away!"<br />
"Sweetie, I'm not mad. I just want to make sure you're okay."<br />
"I said, go away!"<br />
"I'm worried because something that you used in the bathroom might not be good to get on your skin. The stuff in the little bottle?" This was a lie, but I thought it would get her to open the door, which it did. She cracked the door open an inch and peered at me. I could see that her hair wasn't blue, but I couldn't tell if it had been cut, because it was slick and shiny looking. I suspected that she had put some combination of lotions, creams, and ointments that she'd found in our bathroom on her hair to disguise the fact that she cut it.<br />
"Go away!"<br />
"I think it would be a good idea to wash out your hair, okay? I would hate for your skin to start hurting."<br />
"Oh, fine. Okay," she said, grumpily. She opened the door and I got the full view. I tried not to stare at the oily mess perched on the top of her head that bore a passing resemblance to an otter. Sigh. Damn it. I was totally convinced that the mess in the bathroom was IT. That was supposed to be the big battle and the dogs playing keep-away with the yarn was the side skirmish. Now, I realized that the yarn was just an opening volley and the bathroom mess was the side skirmish and her hair was the real battle.<br />
<br />
When she was showered, I could see that she'd given herself bangs and on one side, she had a big chunk of hair that was about an inch longer than the bangs. On the other side, it looked more layered, almost feathered. I took a picture of her the next day:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOioZuEiPS3qasTOxmeZUbSY0imIave9R-p8AjLfj2E3pGrcdl9v0VzlQ5w3fxrO1xdiE1uVFvHVP2Re2ZotzMB7iNFqnFBl_qc4kgYdTqcMQLlXYM7y8nbI6nsCFWdFdwO03qb5CMs9v/s1600/IMG_3534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOioZuEiPS3qasTOxmeZUbSY0imIave9R-p8AjLfj2E3pGrcdl9v0VzlQ5w3fxrO1xdiE1uVFvHVP2Re2ZotzMB7iNFqnFBl_qc4kgYdTqcMQLlXYM7y8nbI6nsCFWdFdwO03qb5CMs9v/s1600/IMG_3534.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Okay, so I know she has a big rainbow in the middle of her forehead like she's in a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainbow_Brite">Rainbow Brite</a> cult and crazy <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cara_Delevingne">Cara Delevingne eyebrows</a>, so it's hard to focus on her hair. But, I think you can see the mullet-ness of her hairstyle. It's actually reminiscent of when she was a baby and had what we liked to call "Benjamin Franklin hair." Her hair was pretty thin and baby-like on top, but it was very long in the back. See:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMw2mgPZQLAuORcGBGQIngo-OgSj_A8Rjj1ZSHbN30ciU24TQjFu568BRSRsJ-jAESNe-VMMseSVe7OuDfWzFqXT-wbFCyMbCwWgQ0S6e0MNHdJjvtpnKC7GXT3w9UUejV95VICJD1uNL/s1600/DSC01162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMw2mgPZQLAuORcGBGQIngo-OgSj_A8Rjj1ZSHbN30ciU24TQjFu568BRSRsJ-jAESNe-VMMseSVe7OuDfWzFqXT-wbFCyMbCwWgQ0S6e0MNHdJjvtpnKC7GXT3w9UUejV95VICJD1uNL/s1600/DSC01162.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I thought I was the only person who looked at a baby and thought, "you know, she looks like an old politician." But, "great" minds think alike because I just caught this feature in <i>Life & Style</i> Magazine on celebrity kids and their political twins:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr16oX8XNhyphenhyphenJx-FN775PbsTMPmVcTHkSU_5f75DZzwT_2D81PaLwa4O8N2tMYcnkWwkoTC9cAD_SJRu3o4GJ3q4ydC4n7axglYpJEtrQpm5UOjQGYGVzm1kpfpTNJMNvlBfrywDJAJHc8l/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-22+at+9.41.59+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr16oX8XNhyphenhyphenJx-FN775PbsTMPmVcTHkSU_5f75DZzwT_2D81PaLwa4O8N2tMYcnkWwkoTC9cAD_SJRu3o4GJ3q4ydC4n7axglYpJEtrQpm5UOjQGYGVzm1kpfpTNJMNvlBfrywDJAJHc8l/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-22+at+9.41.59+PM.png" height="396" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jezebel.com/this-week-in-tabloids-rihanna-says-leo-is-the-best-she-1680886140">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't want to brag, but I think the Baby looked waaaay more like Benjamin Franklin than Skyler Berman does. And I just can't see the resemblance between Carmen Baldwin and Vladimir Putin. I mean, if she were topless riding a shark, okay. <div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/nS2401P.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/nS2401P.png" height="260" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://imgur.com/gallery/nS2401P">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
If you're the editors of <i>Life & Style </i>are you more concerned about pissing off Alec Baldwin or Putin with this feature?<br /><br />
When the Baby's hair dried and we could get the full effect of her new style, she started looking around for a ribbon to tie around her head (see picture of Mara Wilson above). I suspected that <i>Matilda</i> was the inspiration for the haircut, but the subsequent styling with the headband-ribbon confirmed it. I realize that, for a 6 year-old, she did a pretty good job with the haircut. Even so, I took her to get it cleaned up by Lisa at <a href="http://www.mslisacutsforkids.com/">Ms. Lisa's Cuts for Kids</a>. Lisa did a heroic job, but she cringed at me when she said, "I had to layer it." The Baby's hair now looks roughly like Christina Aguilera's hairstyle when she appeared on Star Search in 1990:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/10/17/article-2218955-158AC500000005DC-660_306x464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/10/17/article-2218955-158AC500000005DC-660_306x464.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2218955/Christina-Aguilera-cringes-footage-performing-Star-Search-aged-10-unearthed.html">via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Which is to say, she has a hair<i>style</i>, which I generally think is not appropriate or necessary until at least age 11. Once your hair has a style, you have to fuss with it and maintain it and why get started down that path at age 6? Has she learned <i>nothing</i> from the princess beauty parlor game?<br />
<br />
At this point, you're probably thinking that the Baby and the Kindle need a break from each other. I tried hiding the Kindle, after I caught her watching it when she was supposed to be sleeping. She insisted that the Kindle stay in her room, even if she wasn't watching it. Since it was late and I didn't want to get her more riled up, I agreed and hid it in her closet. That way, it's close by, so she wins, but she's not watching it, so I win. Riiiiiight. Here's what she did to her closet, trying to find the Kindle:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCggL6iUzUZyrDGxpV6UdyLO5WSgmY0mmkeYIQEsDS0SmDDM3MDKCi0tlNzpkzXvYoqqNqYikxy_x9hJUeY5NZY1YVPSTlEkNx0YjvbA1I2Lneremc9WQaiO0_7u4jPIHstLybsslYlE5/s1600/IMG_3577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCggL6iUzUZyrDGxpV6UdyLO5WSgmY0mmkeYIQEsDS0SmDDM3MDKCi0tlNzpkzXvYoqqNqYikxy_x9hJUeY5NZY1YVPSTlEkNx0YjvbA1I2Lneremc9WQaiO0_7u4jPIHstLybsslYlE5/s1600/IMG_3577.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She never did find it. That's what you call a hollow victory.<br />
<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-27886971808286371702015-01-12T14:03:00.003-05:002015-01-12T14:03:57.455-05:00Analysis of State Google SearchesI am the hugest sucker for maps, the Internet, pseudo-social science, and pop-culture. So, when I saw <a href="http://blog.estately.com/2014/12/heres-what-each-state-googled-more-than-any-other-state-in-2014/">this</a> post that combined all my loves, it was like Christmas came early (Christmas 2015, because it was posted on December 29, 2014). The post is a state-by-state compilation of Google searches, listing the searches for which each state dominated. For example, Google-users in my home state of New Jersey searched these terms <i>more</i> than Google-users in any other state:<br />
<br />
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In July, Tracy Morgan<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/29/walmart-tracy-morgan_n_5903604.html"> was riding in a limousine on the New Jersey Turnpike</a> when the limo was hit by a Wal-Mart truck, so it kind of makes sense that people in New Jersey would be disproportionately interested in that story. New Jersey does political scandals better than anyplace outside Chicago, as was proved in 2014 with Bridgegate. In August of 2014, a staff member and some political appointees of Governor Chris Christie <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Lee_lane_closure_scandal">conspired to close toll lanes on the George Washington Bridge</a> and cause a massive traffic jam in Fort Lee, New Jersey as political retaliation against the Mayor of Fort Lee. It's somehow fitting that New Jersey, a state that most people know from driving through on the highway, dominates in Googling stories which involve highways.<br />
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Of all the celebrities and athletes that New Jerseyans are furiously Googling, only one makes immediate sense to me. During the 2014 FIFA World Cup, everyone was Googling Team USA's goalkeeper Tim Howard. But, New Jerseyans were Googling him extra hard because he's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_Howard">originally from New Jersey</a>. And, let's face it, when your other big local news stories are fatal car wrecks and political operatives creating traffic chaos, who would blame New Jerseyans for cyber-stalking Tim Howard?<br />
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If you think that these other celebrities: Ansel Elgort (from <i>Fault in Our Stars</i>, which I will never see because entertainment ≠movie about teens dying of cancer), Alfonso Ribeiro (who needs to Google Alfonso? His work in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tap_Dance_Kid"><i>The Tap Dance Kid</i></a>, as Ricky's hip breakdancing friend on <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Spoons">Silver Spoons</a>,</i> and Carlton in <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fresh_Prince_of_Bel-Air">The Fresh Prince of Bel Air</a></i> is unforgettable), Idina Menzel (by now even <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/low_concept/2014/03/john_travolta_called_idina_menzel_adele_dazeem_what_s_your_travolta_name.html">John Travolta</a> knows she voiced Elsa in <i>Frozen</i>), Kim Novak (Hitchcock blonde - she was in <i>Vertigo</i>, and subject of much gossip after <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2571886/Academy-Awards-2014-What-happened-Kim-Novaks-face-Actress-81-shocks-Oscars-audience-youthful-looks.html">her appearance on the 2014 Oscars</a>), and Oscar Pistorious (South African amputee sprinter and girlfriend-shooter) appear to have little in common, you'd be right. But, my best guess of why these celebrities were all super-Googled by New Jerseyans is because of the 86th Academy Awards (aka the 2014 Oscars).<br />
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Picture this: hordes of New Jersey-residing millennials are live-tweeting the 86th Academy Awards:<br />
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Neutral is the new black#Oscars2014<br />
Truth: Kerry Washington is the most beautiful pregnant woman ever #Oscars2014<br />
Why does the song "Happy" make me want to kill someone?#Oscars2014<br />
Why is @MatthewMcConaughey presenting with his granny?#Oscars2014<br />
Not his grandma. Some old star named Kim Novak #Oscars2014<br />
Her face looks different. She used to be hot:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://mattsko.wordpress.com/2013/09/17/kim-novak-3/">via</a></td></tr>
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Damn!#oldernotbetter#notaginggracefully#Oscars2014<br />
Zac Ephron is presenting at the Oscars. Whut? #Oscars2014<br />
To be fair, his portrayal of a frat boy in "Neighbors" was the second best frat boy performance after the boys in the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2YHHIOocxs"> "Shake It Off!" lip dub</a>. <br />
The Academy thinks that it's 2006 and ZE is the next hot thing because HS Muscial #Oscars2014<br />
@AnselElgort would have been better. Let's get #AnselElgort2015Oscars trending!<br />
@TylerPerry is presenting best picture nominees. You think he's mad that Big Mama's House 8 wasn't nominated?#2014Oscars<br />
I didn't know @AlfonsoRibeiro directed #Gravity. Cool! Go Carlton! #Oscars2014<br />
Oh wait, that's not him. They're showing an old white guy. Alfonso Cuaron? #Oscars2014<br />
I'd watch the shit out of a space movie that Carlton directed. Just sayin #Getmeameeting<br />
John Travolta is a vampire. Seriously. #Oscars2014<br />
He may also be illiterate. #Oscars2014<br />
Watch @IdinaMenzel turn John Travolta into a snowman and bring eternal winter to Hollywood. #Oscars2014<br />
Do IT. #Oscars2014<br />
Just asked Siri if this was the worst Oscars ever. She said no, Oscar Pistorious is the worst Oscar ever. Lolz #Oscars2014<br />
Just remember Hollywood:<br />
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#JerseyForever<br />
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My favorite Google searchers might be Wisconsinites:<br />
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I picture these searches happening in tandem, because what really goes better with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tinder_(application)">on-line dating</a> than drinking cheap beer?</div>
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My favorite state whose Google searches match every stereotype of that state is Vermont:<br />
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If you were playing word association and your word was Vermont, wouldn't you respond with Pete Seeger, feminism, AND kale? SMH. I hope Vermont never stops being Vermont.<br />
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My two biggest questions are, one, why is Mississippi <i>obsessed</i> with everything Ciara and why are people from Oklahoma unfamiliar with switches? First, let's take Ciara. Unlike New Jersey's Google love for Tim Howard, Ciara is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ciara">not</a> even from Mississippi. In fact, she is from Georgia. I wish that Georgians were Googling Ciara rather than Michael Sam's boyfriend. :-( Now, what kind of switches is all of Oklahoma Googling? Are these light switches? Are they <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/nfl/vikings/2014/11/20/adrian-peterson-roger-goodell-child-abuse-switch-minnesota-vikings/70025476/">Adrian Peterson switches</a>? Maybe I'm being unfair, but I have a feeling that people in Oklahoma know from the cut-the-branch-off-the-tree type of switches. Maybe they're Googling so they know how big a switch they can use without getting in trouble. Mississippians and Oklahomans (is this a word?) weigh in, because I need to know!<br />
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I know that I, personally, searched a couple of the top Georgia Google terms:<br />
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I wanted to see how far away I lived from the epicenter of a terrifying disease. Luckily, I live about two hours from the Honey Boo Boo family. Whew!Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-43708127241999221402015-01-06T11:01:00.000-05:002015-01-06T11:01:46.131-05:00No Debate about EbatesWhile our house was in quarantine due to <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2015/01/sayonara-2014.html">the plagues</a>, I had a bunch of blogs written in my head, but no time to write or share any of them because I was too busy doing laundry and disinfecting everything. This week (precious optimism), I hope to clear some of the backlog. My future blogging plans include writing about the pantry moths (per request by a kindred reader) and how I'm one step closer to being investigated by DFCS because the Baby gave herself a haircut and then tried to hide the evidence by dousing her head with a combination of <a href="http://www.experience-essential-oils.com/blue-tansy-essential-oil.html">blue tansy</a> and hand lotion.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mother's prayer: Please let there be a bald Barbie, <br />please let there be a bald Barbie, Amen.</td></tr>
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When I was down with the flu I logged a lot of hours watching HGTV, including a marathon of <i><a href="http://www.hgtv.com/shows/fixer-upper">Fixer Upper</a>, </i>in which a telegenic couple (<a href="http://magnoliahomes.net/about/">Joanna and Chip Gaines</a>) renovate and redesign homes for their clients. Since this is the plot of nearly every HGTV show, the twist is that Chip and Joanna live on a ranch in Waco, Texas with their four children. It's like <i><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/">The Pioneer Woman</a> </i>meets <i><a href="http://www.hgtv.com/shows/property-brothers">The Property Brothers</a></i> if the brothers were married to each other or if the Pioneer Woman's husband worked with her making meatloaf, instead of being a <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2014/12/what-i-got-marlboro-man-for-christmas/">Carmex-addicted cowboy</a>. It was either the fever or HGTV's magically delivery, but for about a minute I considered ditching the ATL and moving to Waco. The kids could grow up on a ranch (ignore the fact that I would probably hate everything involved in ranching) and we could buy a pretty legit house in Waco for under $100K, which is like what people spend on their cars in Atlanta. Hopefully, I'll get the flu next year and can enjoy a season two marathon of <i>Fixer Upper</i>. By that time, I'll bet the Gaineses will be all Hollywood. Chip will have gotten caps to fix his wonky tooth and Joanna will be shopping for a house in Calabasas. I joke. For real, they seem like a lovely couple. Check out their <a href="http://shop.magnoliahomes.net/collections/decorate/products/lost-socks-rack">shop for a $65 "Lost Sock" Hanger</a>, or, alternatively, go buy a new pair of socks for $5.<br />
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While I was watching all this HGTV, pretty much every other commercial was for <a href="http://www.ebates.com/">Ebates</a>. After the 30th commercial in which people swore that they were making money by just buying stuff, I mustered the strength to pull my laptop into bed to investigate. I mean, I buy stuff. Why not make money doing something I already do? I've <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/08/buyers-remorse.html">blogged before</a> about how I just can't with all the Groupon, Rue La La, Joss & Main, and One Kings Lane "bargains." My "bargains" often turn out to be stuff that I never would have bought if I'd seen it in real life and I'm stuck with because of the (no) return policies. When I looked into Ebates, it seemed like a good deal because you don't change your buying habits, you just access your usual online retailers through the Ebates site.<br />
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So, how does Ebates work? <a href="http://imstuff.com/ebates-review/">This article</a> explains it really well, but the short answer is that Ebates is an affiliate to hundreds of online stores. An affiliate is a person or company that gets cash back for making referrals. <b>Math Alert!! </b>Say Ebates gets 5% back from Uggs on sales to any customer referred by Ebates. A customer clicks through Ebates to the Uggs site and buys a pair of $200 boots. Ebates gets $10. Ebates then splits the referral fee with the customer, so the customer receives $5.<br />
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If you're going to buy the stuff anyway, it seems like a a no-brainer to get a little something in return. I should emphasize the word "little." For a lot of the retailers, you're getting 2-5% back on your purchase, which, unless you're spending a boatload of cash, is probably enough to buy you a small Starbuck's coffee. But, you know when those <a href="http://www.suzeorman.com/">Suze Orman</a>-types talk about saving money, the first thing they always want to take away is your fancy coffee. Now you can sort of justify buying the coffee because it's basically free...with that Xbox One you bought from Wal-Mart.<br />
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I used Ebates throughout my holiday shopping and here's how I did:<br />
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I've already gotten one check for $27.37, and I have $30.67 waiting in my account. I also got a $10 gift card to Target when I signed up. You know that's loooonnggg gone by now. I was pleasantly surprised that Ebates is affiliated with pretty much every major retailer. I mean, 1% back from the Apple Store isn't going to change your life, but after all the money I've dropped on Apple products, it makes me happy to get <i>something</i> in return. Of course, there's always one retailer that makes you work for your pocket change. I buy a ton of stuff from Amazon, and I was disappointed that that Amazon will offer a small percentage back on purchases, but only purchases made in specific departments. Currently, it's 3% back on all shoes and baby products and 2% on cameras. Compare this with Nordstrom, which offers 6% back on purchases from every department (hence, my whopping $5.97 rebate from Nordstrom. Ch-ching!) Also, Groupon (for y'all who are better at sizing up bargains than I) gives you 6% cash back. So, you're getting your amazing deal from Groupon (and I do mean <i>you</i>) <i>and</i> you're getting cash back!<br />
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I totally wish that I'd blogged about this before the holidays so all my dozens of readers could have taken advantage of this during the big spending orgy that we all engage in every December. Let's just blame the CDC for messing up the flu vaccine and taking me out of commission. I mean, if in doubt, blame the government, right? If you're a regular reader of OWTL, then you know that, other than <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2012/11/lice-lice-baby.html">lice-repelling products</a>, I don't promote anything. That would require me to actually think up a business plan and an agenda and to be a hustler, none of which I have the time or inclination to do. I've also made it clear that I am a total incompetent at scoring a deal or a bargain. If I'm telling you that I've made money from Ebates, you can be assured that it's possible for you to do so, as well.<br />
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So, now that I've totally sold you on Ebates and you want to reward me for my great advice (and <i>hilarious</i> writing), you can click <a href="http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=LdSkOK6NnyrzrekFTQtejw%3D%3D&eeid=26471">here</a> and I'll get a kickback for referring you. If you didn't need any convincing and you don't think I'm all that hilarious, that's totally fine. Just go to the <a href="http://ebates.com/">Ebates home page</a> and sign up there. But totally sign up and then you can tell Suze Ormand to screw off when she starts threatening your lattes.<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-67449502785663790142015-01-01T09:46:00.000-05:002015-01-01T09:46:41.258-05:00Sayonara 2014Happy Thanksgiving! And Happy Hanukah! And Joyous Kwanza! And Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year! Our family has been in illness purgatory since November 20th, so I have been unable to write anything. Well, not entirely true. I wrote a parody of <i>If You Give a Mouse a Cookie</i> called <i>If You Give a Kindergardener a Craft Project</i> that I didn't finish. You have that to look forward to sometime in the future. Whether I will actually finish it, or will just publish it unfinished like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mystery_of_Edwin_Drood" style="font-style: italic;">The Mystery of Edwin Drood</a> remains to be seen. (Note to self: add opium den to <i>If You Give a Kindergardener a Craft Project</i> to make it edgier.)<br />
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According to Facebook, 2014 was a great year. Thanks for being part of it. You know what? Screw you, Facebook, 2014 kind of sucked. Okay, so it wasn't as bad as, say, <a href="http://www.historyorb.com/events/date/1934?p=2">1934</a> (hard to top the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, the Great Depression, Hitler, and the dust bowl), but it wasn't all that great. On a global level, there was the Ebola crisis, Russia invaded Crimea, the Middle East continued to be a mess, <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/01/southern-drivers-just-suck-and-other.html">Atlanta was paralyzed for days by a freak snowstorm</a>, there were lots of plane crashes (and one plane that went missing and still hasn't been found), terrorist groups thought killing people was a good way to stop girls from going to school, we lost Robin Williams and Joan Rivers, and celebrities found out that their private cellphone pictures weren't so private (maybe that wasn't so bad; depends on your perspective). But Facebook has to be all Johnny Mercer and accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. The Facebook year in review for Malaysia Air probably featured the new snack offerings for passengers in the coach cabin.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flight attendant: "Don't mention that elephant sitting in 12D."</td></tr>
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Personally, 2014 wasn't such a great year for me, either. I'm grateful for all the good things: My family is all healthy(ish) and happy(ish) and we didn't suffer any major<i> </i>tragedy this year, and I'm alive and well enough to complain about 2014. But, just as the birth of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dionne_quintuplets">Dionne Quintuplets</a> doesn't change the fact that 1934 was a lousy year, attending a Christmas party at the White House (cool as it was) doesn't make 2014 a banner year. The truth is that I am more than happy to say, "Sayonara, sweetheart," to 2014.<br />
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Reason Number 1: Plagues - 2014 was the year our family was beset with plagues of Biblical proportions. They were so very bad and gross that I can really only share that we had <a href="http://www.pantrymothtrap.com/get-rid-moths/">pantry moths</a> because copping to any of the others would make me a social pariah and would lower the property value of my house. If you've ever had pantry moths then you know how gross and fucking hard they are to get rid of, that gives you perspective on how much <i>more</i> gross and fucking hard to get rid of are the plagues and pestilence that I <i>can't</i> talk about. Oh, the things I would write if I had an anonymous blog! (But, of course I wouldn't get credit for it, and then what's the point?) Let's just say that one of the worst ways to spend two grand is on hardware cloth, cement, and labor to dig a three foot deep trench around a garden shed. Additionally, if you thought that a cold was the worst affliction your kid could bring home from school, you are sorely, sorely mistaken.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.papermag.com/uploaded_images/Garbage%20Pail%20Kids_page%2057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.papermag.com/uploaded_images/Garbage%20Pail%20Kids_page%2057.jpg" height="320" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from<a href="http://www.playbuzz.com/jonb10/which-garbage-pail-kid-are-you"> here</a>, along with a quiz to<br />
determine which Garbage Pail Kid<br />
you are! Because, of course there is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Reason Number 2: Flu - I love public health and I do my part by taking myself and my three children, two of whom have major shot anxiety, and get the flu vaccine. I have done this every year for the last 11 years. One year, our pediatrician ran out of the flu vaccine and I took the Girl and the Boy, ages three and 18 months to the county Public Health Clinic and waited for two hours to get us all vaccinated. While we were there, they rolled on the floor, licked the walls, and touched every surface and then stuck their hands in their mouths. They ended up with strep, malaria, and distemper, but we were influenza-free. This year we got our shots and mists in September and the Girl, the Boy, and I all got the flu anyway. I have no idea why the Baby didn't get it. I can only imagine the flu knew better than to mess with the likes of her.<br />
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Right after we finished the regular old flu, the stomach flu made its way through the family. I was the only one who didn't get it, for which I was grateful, until I realized what happens when you are the only one left standing during a stomach flu epidemic. As a result of all of these illnesses, I've installed hand-washing stations in all the bathrooms. My commitment to public health is at the expense of the environment because we've gone through many, many rolls of paper towels with this new regime.<br />
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Reason Number 3: Change - I wish that I embraced change, but I'm an already an anxious person and change just makes me more anxious. In September the K quit his stable, secure big law firm job and started his own law firm. This is exciting, but it's also scary because starting a business is like walking a tightrope without a net. You succeed or fail totally on your own without anyone to catch you. But, in the immortal words of Michael Scott:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogsdir.cms.rrcdn.com/5/files/2014/04/tumblr_m3zidnpJxn1rns55no1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blogsdir.cms.rrcdn.com/5/files/2014/04/tumblr_m3zidnpJxn1rns55no1_1280.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.totallandscapecare.com/how-not-to-be-like-michael-scott/">Attribution</a> isn't my strong suit, either. </td></tr>
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While looking for a good entrepreneur quote I realized two things:<br />
1. Risking it all to start a business sounds like a great idea if the person suggesting it is Mark Zuckerberg, Mark Cuban, Richard Branson, or Oprah Winfrey.<br />
2. The vast majority of us are not the next Mark Zuckerberg, Mark Cuban, Richard Branson, or Oprah Winfrey.<br />
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The good thing about change is that time passes and you get used to the new situation. While I'm sure that our family will benefit from the K's new job in the long run, I'm hoping the length of the run will be in feet rather than miles (or meters rather than kilometers for all you people who have been forcing the metric system on America for 30 years.)<br />
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Reason Number 4: Rejection - As long as we're talking about taking risks, remember when I was writing a novel? Well, I finished it last December and some good friends read it and provided feedback. I revised it and in August, I decided to send it to some agents. It went about as I expected, with rejections all around. That's fine, and not unusual at all. But, one of the agents didn't get back to me until right before Thanksgiving with an email that read something like, "Thank you for your submission, but I am not interested in representing you. The reason is that your story didn't 'grab' me." No kidding? I thought you were waiting four months to contact me because you were immediately riveted and couldn't wait to read more! Generally speaking, if you've waited four months to contact someone, the better thing to do is let the silence speak for itself.<br />
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Although the trials of 2014 were challenging, I learned some important lessons. First, it taught me perseverance: If you don't get rid of pantry moths after four tries, you <i>do</i> have it in you to clean that pantry with white vinegar and Q-Tips for a fifth time. Damned if this same lesson of perseverance doesn't apply to writing a book or starting a business. Second, it taught me discretion: Some situations suck and while it might be cathartic to lay out all the gory details for public consumption, it's probably not in anyone's best interest to do so. Third, it taught me cleanliness: It is actually really, really important to wash your hands.<br />
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Last week, the children and I went to Target to return some things and to use the Target gift cards that Santa gave the girls (yes, our Santa gives gift cards because he's had a long year battling reindeer parasites and sleigh moths). The after-Christmas sale was in full swing and I bought four rolls of wrapping paper for next Christmas. I thought about how planning for a holiday a year in advance is a really optimistic gesture. We'll all be here in December 2015, there will be gifts to wrap, and I'll smugly congratulate myself for being both thrifty and foresighted enough to already have wrapping paper. I'm ready. Bring it 2015.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.huffpost.com/gen/2445396/thumbs/n-NEW-YEARS-large570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.huffpost.com/gen/2445396/thumbs/n-NEW-YEARS-large570.jpg" height="166" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/29/twitter-new-years-resolutions_n_6392638.html">via</a></td></tr>
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-56938159472780482952014-11-07T14:06:00.003-05:002014-11-07T14:06:38.676-05:00Halloween: Rubik's Cube Costume <b>Best Halloween Ever</b> - 1980, Halloween birthday party. Pre-Pinterest, Mom put together a haunted house in our terrifying-under-normal-circumstances basement. Party guests were blindfolded and touched a dead man's "eyeballs" (peeled grapes), "intestines" (cold spaghetti noodles), and hand (surgical glove filled with wet sand). I dressed like a fortune teller in some hippie clothes borrowed from Mom's artist friend. <br />
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<b>Worst Halloween Ever</b> - 1993, Austin, Texas. I woke up to find out that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/River_Phoenix">River Phoenix had overdosed outside the Viper Room</a> and (unrelated) that my Toyota Carolla had been towed to a dump/impound lot in southeast Austin. I spent November 1st bumming a ride to the lot (guarded by an actual junkyard dog) and retrieving my car from a guy who, between his lack of teeth and heavy Texas drawl, was nearly impossible for me to understand. Okay, technically that was the worst November 1st ever, but since the precipitating events actually occurred on October 31st, I'm calling them for Halloween. If only the Internet had been around, I could have crowd-sourced my $75 towing fee like <a href="http://www.businessinsider.com/women-raises-362-to-pay-for-uber-ride-2014-11">this girl did</a> when she took an unexpectedly pricey Uber.<br />
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In other news, someone needs to come up with a funny Uber picture, because this is all the Internet's got:<br />
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2010's favorite meme subject, Ryan Gosling:<br />
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Oprah:<br />
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and, of course:<br />
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Let's get some new meme material. I'm <i>old</i> and I've grown bored with Hey, Girl and The Most Interesting Man. I will never say a bad word about Oprah because she could find and destroy me. Plus, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8WhbyO0qyM">this</a> will never not make me laugh. That Oprah, rich as she is, would take a road trip is amazing (even if she made her BFF Gale King do all the driving). You'd never catch Streisand and Walters on a road trip; no makeup, dirty hair, eating Corn Nuts and drinking Mr. Pibb, nary a soft focus filter in sight. <br />
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<a name='more'></a>So, I'm totally off the main point of this post, which is to talk about Halloween and my birthday, which happens to be on Halloween. As soon as I had kids, my birthday doesn't even take a backseat to Halloween. My birthday is on the roof rack like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Lampoon's_Vacation">Aunt Edna</a>. Generally, this is fine because I've reached a point where each birthday is just another step on the slow march towards Depends and dentures, so ignoring it gives me some peace of mind. This year, I distracted myself further by making the Boy's costume. When the kids were picking costumes, it looked like I might have a total reprieve. The Girl decided to be a witch, which was very easy since she's been a witch for the last two years. She has already announced that she's going to be a witch next year "it's kind of like my <i>thing</i>." The Baby decided to wear a bear costume that I bought for the Girl to wear in 2005. It's a size 3T. The Baby wears a size 6x (which, why do we have 6x? Why does this size exist, but only for girls? <a href="http://thestir.cafemom.com/big_kid/174786/size_6_vs_6x_whats">Thanks, Google</a>! Best line in the linked article, "Once boys turn 2, they are out of jon jons and into polo shirts for the rest of their lives." Or, into Minecraft t-shirts and torn sweatpants!) so the costume ended just below her knees. But, they were <i>done</i>, so who cared if the Girl's costume smelled like sweat and sugar? Who cared if the Baby's costume was meant for a toddler? They were content with their choices.<br />
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Then the Boy announced, "I want to be a Rubik's Cube." Errr, okay. "Not a baseball player?" I suggested, thinking of the bajillion baseball uniforms he has in his closet. "No. A Rubik's Cube," he said. The Boy has a knack for coming up with obscure costumes that are not readily available. The first year that "<a href="http://pbskids.org/superwhy/">Super Why!</a>" was on television, he decided he wanted to be Wyatt. There was one company making the costume and I paid through the teeth for a Wyatt costume that was so flimsy, it seemed to be held together with promises of stitches, instead of actual thread. At the height of the Angry Birds popularity, he decided he wanted to dress like the white Angry Bird, which, of course, was the one Bird without a mass-produced costume. Thank goodness, we had the best babysitter, who also happened to be very handy and she made him a shirt:<br />
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He seemed determined to be a Rubik's Cube, so I searched for the easiest Rubik's Cube costume-making directions that I could find. Thanks to the Internet, no one has to figure out how to make anything or do anything on his or her own. You just copy someone else's work. Generally, this has worked to my advantage because I'm not crafty, but I'm very good at following directions. However, there is a downside, which is a bland uniformity. Recently, I talked to a friend who was cursing how unoriginal we've all become because of Pinterest. "If I go to another party with burlap flags and Mason jars, I'll scream." I think her point is well taken. Another problem is that what is presented as an easy and successful project, may be more difficult and less successful in amateur hands. Case in point, the Rubik's Cube costume.<br />
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I followed <a href="http://www.designmom.com/2010/10/halloween-2010/">these directions</a>, but should have taken note that the blog is by someone who calls herself "Design Mom," something that I would never be called unless someone <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2012/10/halloween-fatigue.html">stamped a design on my back </a>while I wasn't paying attention. So, here are her directions for making a Rubik's Cube costume, with my "yes, but in the real world" commentary:<br />
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<b>1. Get a Box</b> - Design Mom didn't have one the right size, so she cut a rectangular box into a square. I don't do geometry, so I spent $5 at the UPS store for an 18x18 box. Bonus: The guy at the UPS store asked if it was for moving or storage and when I told him it was for my son's Rubik's Cube Halloween costume, it seriously made his day. He went and got a box without any printing on it, so I could have a clean slate with which to work.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBH7luSL8HIBh-xxCaZqsWIxGPHHT0DdRC1ipZ539GvYq60hUZAKfzdPZY3Ep0MHuQrAzO3nfZopVB-B5KL3iFWxO1x_gNuc4LFfEVzICm8YIs7JJbiE2XNIv-oNP_pHoPQKEkob6Ui7o_/s1600/IMG_3394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBH7luSL8HIBh-xxCaZqsWIxGPHHT0DdRC1ipZ539GvYq60hUZAKfzdPZY3Ep0MHuQrAzO3nfZopVB-B5KL3iFWxO1x_gNuc4LFfEVzICm8YIs7JJbiE2XNIv-oNP_pHoPQKEkob6Ui7o_/s1600/IMG_3394.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I should say that the only printing was this self-congratulatory<br />and superfluous printing on the bottom of the box. </td></tr>
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<b>2. Get some card stock, black spray paint, and an Exacto Knife</b> - I bought all at Michaels. The card stock should be in Rubik's Cube colors. The goal is to have nine 5" squares on each side, so if you can find card stock already cut to that size, get that. My cards were 6x6 which meant I had to cut each one down to size, which was very time-consuming (see number 6, below).<br />
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<b>3. Tape the box together</b> - Design Mom cut the head and arm holes first and then taped the box, but I was afraid I'd screw it up if I couldn't see the box set up. I might have cut arm holes in adjacent sides, which would only be helpful if the Boy had one arm and a tail. I know it seems an unlikely mistake to make, which is why someone like Design Mom didn't think of it, but for a craft-impaired person like me, these traps are everywhere. I also cut off the bottom flaps so the Boy had a place for his legs.<br />
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<b>4. Cut arm and head holes in the box</b> - Once the box was taped together, I used a small bowl to trace the arm holes and a larger bowl for the head hole:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8-i_FaxYAmnzCzuzMgu42HSUvgH5eq_XiCDooeXpWuwPDwHus3A7lVhkjLP1qyeqtn9jd4JlKeykzc3VT9lPnyncQSX8BfUCt_4ndP4pkEzb42P8zo9Ct849876T1CO7BG4Lq74L-PTe/s1600/IMG_3396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8-i_FaxYAmnzCzuzMgu42HSUvgH5eq_XiCDooeXpWuwPDwHus3A7lVhkjLP1qyeqtn9jd4JlKeykzc3VT9lPnyncQSX8BfUCt_4ndP4pkEzb42P8zo9Ct849876T1CO7BG4Lq74L-PTe/s1600/IMG_3396.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holes!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOLLMP1YK35ZsMdnXLXdUhzz3vTTvxgtoJkZ1AjU8bVfjAghW2va58mbpzPF4hu664PqwGQ39FxlkJ6FFdvMbwzdVTCC3v7kqlOujrBHyU-SizRcirjIeQZL4GjbJsoMytIQocXZQTaBFI/s1600/IMG_3395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOLLMP1YK35ZsMdnXLXdUhzz3vTTvxgtoJkZ1AjU8bVfjAghW2va58mbpzPF4hu664PqwGQ39FxlkJ6FFdvMbwzdVTCC3v7kqlOujrBHyU-SizRcirjIeQZL4GjbJsoMytIQocXZQTaBFI/s1600/IMG_3395.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good news! If you stop at this step your kid can go as<br />"thinking outside the box" for Halloween. </td></tr>
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<b>5. Paint it Black</b> - Who knew that the Rolling Stones were so into DIY Halloween costumes when they wrote that song? Haul the box outside and spray away. The good news with this step is that the whole box is going to be covered with the card stock squares, so no one will notice if you do a crappy job painting. This is a good opportunity to let children help because it's unlikely that they will ruin the costume. They may, however misdirect the spray paint and inadvertently tag the neighbor's house.<br />
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<b>6. Spend a week cutting card stock to size - </b>Okay, here's the part that Design Mom failed to adequately prepare me for. Cutting an inch-long strip off of two sides of 45 squares is really tedious work. Design Mom said that the entire costume took her an hour and a half to make (excluding drying time). Weeellll, yes. If you are the kind of person who can patiently, carefully cut those squares to size in one sitting without either: 1) losing your mind or 2) getting so sloppy that your squares look like trapezoids, then yes, it is theoretically possible to make this costume in an hour and a half. I like to think I have a good attention span and I couldn't cut more than ten without starting to get stabby with the scissors. Oh, and by the way, scissors to cut down the card stock worked <i>way</i> better than the Exacto Knife. However, I did manage to slice off part of our ruler with the Exacto knife.<br />
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<b>7. Tape the Squares on to the box</b> - Design Mom used double sided tape to attach her squares to the costume, so I took her recommendation. This method had its pros and cons. It was good because it is easy to reposition squares that don't line up properly. It also requires zero crafty skills to tape, which is perfect because I happen to possess zero crafty skills. The problem with the double sided tape is that it doesn't stick all that well, so the squares start to fall off. The tape also doesn't seem to have a long stickiness-life. So, I finished the red side a week before Halloween and those squares were all falling off by October 30th. The sides I finished at the last minute held up through trick-or-treating much better. I read another Rubik's Cube costume tutorial that you can use spray adhesive. I'm sure that would hold better, but then you can't reposition squares as easily and (I'm guessing) the adhesive spray might bleed through.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P8fNFYAfyRSX6nSk94aAejTxxu5GGGbh6rwI80J2LCJIAn4GylH9hpCycyU4QZQW6trOYBRE3MDdar3I9b3EmOVQa3iBUBvPHQJzm2yb4qrdtFzVCuXcX3jFpoDF-WGJ86Tb3-kG6zjI/s1600/IMG_3368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P8fNFYAfyRSX6nSk94aAejTxxu5GGGbh6rwI80J2LCJIAn4GylH9hpCycyU4QZQW6trOYBRE3MDdar3I9b3EmOVQa3iBUBvPHQJzm2yb4qrdtFzVCuXcX3jFpoDF-WGJ86Tb3-kG6zjI/s1600/IMG_3368.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished product</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0A-3A8U-cNWYYsCpEHMI6YjlVsIxVi4JIoWtNCT8GgyolVt34wbavNh-zHcFob7QpxztI-4kJdOm5gjEMrA4nYMtQMmyHCCbp85nrxHmtMoOLsMDhFYhP3Gexn_QXBRELNQfuHlBwm15m/s1600/IMG_3366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0A-3A8U-cNWYYsCpEHMI6YjlVsIxVi4JIoWtNCT8GgyolVt34wbavNh-zHcFob7QpxztI-4kJdOm5gjEMrA4nYMtQMmyHCCbp85nrxHmtMoOLsMDhFYhP3Gexn_QXBRELNQfuHlBwm15m/s1600/IMG_3366.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Side view</td></tr>
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<b>8. Cut out the paper that overlaps the arm and head holes</b> - This was also one of those things that Design Mom threw out there without any acknowledgement that it's easier said than done. I taped everything down and then looked at the box from the inside so I could see where the card stock overlapped the hole. I used the Exacto knife to cut out the overlapping cards, using one of my cardboard scraps as the cutting surface. This isn't super easy, but you've got to do it, or the costume will look really lame. As you're cursing the fact that the Exacto Knife is sharp enough to slice off a finger, yet somehow not sharp enough to cut through card stock, just think about how you can lord this moment over your child when he claims you've never done anything for him.<br />
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<b>9. Spacing the squares</b> - Don't make the same mistake that I made. I realized after I'd already taped down the squares on one side that it looks better to have the squares clustered in the middle, leaving a larger margin on the sides. Our Rubik's Cube costume is now like <a href="http://www.entertainmentwise.com/news/50096/mariah-carey-lifts-ban-on-photographing-left-side-of-face">Mariah Carey</a> and will only allow its best side to be photographed.<br />
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Note that this is not just something you can wear on Halloween. You could probably also bust this out if you get invited to a <a href="http://www.piday.org/">Pi Day</a> party. I'm already brainstorming for next Halloween. The Boy wants to go as a Speak and Spell:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just kidding, thank goodness. </td></tr>
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-525186297985397622014-10-22T13:23:00.000-04:002014-10-22T13:23:18.680-04:00Halloween Teacher Breakfast At our elementary school, we have a guy called "Bike Dude." Bike Dude is in charge of all of our "Walk and Roll" days, which is the one day each month when kids are encouraged to walk bike or scooter to school. Whenever the Bike Dude's kids graduate from elementary school, we get a new Bike Dude. It's like the new Darren on <i>Bewitched:</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://uploads.neatorama.com/images/posts/911/66/66911/1384316859-0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://uploads.neatorama.com/images/posts/911/66/66911/1384316859-0.jpg" height="293" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.neatorama.com/2013/11/13/Why-Were-There-Two-Darrins-on-Bewitched/">Via</a></td></tr>
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Everyone just pretends that this is the only Bike Dude that ever was and the kids don't seem to notice (a sign that all grownups look the same to kids). I've been a parent at the elementary school for so long, I'm on Bike Dude number three. Since the Baby is in kindergarten, I'll probably be looking at Bike Dude five or six before I'm done. Instead of saying, "I've been a parent at this school for nine years (!)," I can just say I've been there for "five Bike Dudes."<br />
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So, last year I <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/09/im-just-girl-who-caint-say-no.html">pledged to volunteer less </a>this year, and I almost succeeded. Yes, almost. After going an oddly long time without any contact from the room parents in the Boy's class, I asked around and learned that due to various issues, all the room parent volunteers, save one, had quit. Quit?! I am kicking myself for never realizing that this was an option! Here I was thinking that being a room parent was like indentured servitude, and that, once committed, I was obliged to serve for a year until I secured my release.<br />
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I'm joking, and of course I volunteered to be a room parent because I've never really had the courage of my convictions. <i>Naturally, </i>our class was scheduled to co-host the monthly <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/11/catch-up-teacher-appreciation-breakfast.html">Teacher Appreciation Breakfas</a>t two weeks after I signed on to be room parent. <i>Naturally</i>, I volunteered to organize it on behalf of the class. You may remember that I worked on this same breakfast <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/11/catch-up-teacher-appreciation-breakfast.html">last year</a> and was lucky enough to co-host with our local version of Martha Stewart. She did <i>everything</i>, which left me time to pour a pitcher of water all over the floor for comic relief.<i> </i>As is often the case with my jokes, it wasn't actually very funny.<br />
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This year, I was Martha Stewart-less, which meant that I had to use my own creatively bankrupt mind to come up with a theme for the breakfast. Something to know about our elementary school: we observe no holidays. We pretend like holidays do not exist lest someone get offended by some symbol or accouterment of the celebration. I guess this avoids a lot of controversy, but it's also somewhat artificial when we celebrate "love and kindness," with a party that coincidentally falls on Februrary 14th. Halloween was jettisoned, of course, because someone is bound to object to witches (Satan, y'all), skeletons (evolution, y'all), ghosts (occult, y'all), and candy (childhood obesity, y'all). Well, if <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PCkvCPvDXk">Meagan Trainor can bring booty back</a>, I decided that I could bring Halloween back as the theme of the teacher breakfast. As the year goes on, we'll see how this no-shits-left-to-give approach to room parenting works.<br />
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I recycled the majority of our sign up sheet from last year, but decided to have a yogurt "bar" rather than the grits bar that we had last year. Martha Stewart had been in charge of the grits bar, probably awakening at 4 am to start the grits cooking in multiple crockpots. I appreciate the teachers, but I appreciate sleep more. Here's our food sign up:<br />
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We had a good volunteer response, which meant that I just concentrated on the decor and yogurt bar toppings.<br />
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I was sooooo tempted to go with something crazy gross for a dish or centerpiece:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/57/d7/ce/57d7ce5f592cb6508dbd3aa32e9e059d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/57/d7/ce/57d7ce5f592cb6508dbd3aa32e9e059d.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/beatrisjohnson/the-ultimate-collection-of-creepy-gross-and-ghoul-f0at?sub=2660866_1775851">Via</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://d2lkv2j4m042s95gkf28dijm.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/B9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://d2lkv2j4m042s95gkf28dijm.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/B9.jpeg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sogoodblog.com/2012/10/11/epically-gross-halloween-party-food/">Via</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://runeatplayblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://runeatplayblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/067.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://runeatplayblog.com/2012/10/14/halloween-food-and-pumpkin-carving-2012/">Via</a></td></tr>
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I am really not all that squeamish, but that skull...I just can't. What do you think it's made of? Spam? Luncheon meat? Gag. But, I went old-school for the centerpiece and I mean <i>really</i> old school with a caldron. Seeing as a real, cast iron caldron would be too heavy for me to drag to the school, I picked up a plastic one for $7 at Target. I filled it with tissue paper and stuck some "treats" for the teachers inside:<br />
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I mean, who doesn't like reading magazines while they eat lunch?<br />
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Additional treats included a bunch of back to school pencils that I had saved to do a project that never happened, some granola bars that my kids rejected for being too healthy, and the "ghost" bag contained some peppermint Life Savers because fresh breath is a treat for everyone!<br />
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Of course, there was one trick:<br />
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I have no idea where that bat came from, but maybe he's supposed to go in a Barbie's Haunted Dream House Halloween display, because he's out of scale for human Halloween decorations. If I had a little more time and the materials to make it happen, I would have glued him to a skewer and stuck him into the display, instead of tying him to bag handle.<br />
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I had a couple of white table cloths and bought two black, spiderweb table runners at Target. Before you get all impressed that I have two white table cloths, I should let you know that I bought the second one because I put the first one in a "safe place" and couldn't find it for about a year. When I helped with <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/05/appreciation-fatigue.html">the teacher breakfast at the Baby's school</a> in the spring (where everything was organic, humane, and farm-raised), I broke down and bought a new white table cloth at Target. I mean, I wove a tablecloth on my artisanal loom out of cotton plants grown pesticide-free, cruelty-free backyard garden. Then I found my old tablecloth, so now I have two.<br />
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The room parent from the co-hosting classroom and I met the afternoon before the breakfast to set up the table, which was a great idea, except that it was monsooning outside and we both got soaking wet carrying caldrons and trays and tablecloths from our cars to the school. If I had one suggestion about hosting an early-morning anything, it's to get as much as possible set up the day before, so you're just dumping food into serving dishes the day of the breakfast. Also, talk to someone about fixing the weather so it doesn't rain when you're trying to set up.<br />
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So, the day of the breakfast I'm always kind of worried that someone who signed up to bring something <i>very important</i> isn't going to show. Plates and forks or spoons (preferably both) are pretty hard to do without when you're serving food to 60 people. The good news was that most people who signed up to bring items actually showed up. The bad news is that the fork person was a no-show. Luckily, there was a gigantic box of plastic utensils in the teacher's room so no one had to eat with a plastic knife or their hands. Here's a picture of the spread:<br />
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That silver bucket on the back table next to the microwave contained the little cups of yogurt. We just scooped plain Greek yogurt into plastic cups and put them on ice. The toppings we ended up with were honey, agave nectar, cinnamon, two types of granola, and raspberry preserves. Ideally, we would have included some berries, too, but it's not really the season and we already had so much fruit that we hoped people would realize that the fruit could be mixed into the yogurt even if they weren't next to each other.<br />
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Another new addition to this breakfast was a cooler full of mini Cokes, Diet Cokes, and Coke Zeros so that teachers could take a drink back to class. After working on so many of these breakfasts I've noticed that certain items are always popular: Homemade cinnamon buns, Chick fil-A mini biscuits, warm casseroles, Starbucks Frappuccino drinks, and bacon (not necessarily in that order). I've never made cinnamon buns, but I might have to try. The last two teacher breakfasts, two separate moms contributed cinnamon buns and they went like hotcakes...or cinnamon buns. Both women claimed that they're easy to make, but probably not as easy as dumping granola into a bowl.<br />
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We didn't get any grief about the Halloween theme, which is good because I still have four more Teacher Breakfasts to look forward to in the next three and half years at the school. That's at least two more Bike Dudes, if you're counting.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-rcta_5mahYw%252FVEfXfnP1rJI%252FAAAAAAAAEq8%252F2_bhHr6rB0A%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3339.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5578px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-rcta_5mahYw%252FVEfXfnP1rJI%252FAAAAAAAAEq8%252F2_bhHr6rB0A%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3339.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5578px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-rcta_5mahYw%252FVEfXfnP1rJI%252FAAAAAAAAEq8%252F2_bhHr6rB0A%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3339.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5578px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F2.bp.blogspot.com%252F-rcta_5mahYw%252FVEfXfnP1rJI%252FAAAAAAAAEq8%252F2_bhHr6rB0A%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3339.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5578px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F4.bp.blogspot.com%252F-h0B81GyTMD8%252FVEfeYBXiSMI%252FAAAAAAAAErM%252FTCLVHbtRuzQ%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3342.JPG%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 42px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 6482px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D52518629798539762%3BonPublishedMenu%3Dallposts%3BonClosedMenu%3Dallposts%3BpostNum%3D0%3Bsrc%3Dpostname&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252F4.bp.blogspot.com%252F-h0B81GyTMD8%252FVEfeYBXiSMI%252FAAAAAAAAErM%252FTCLVHbtRuzQ%252Fs1600%252FIMG_3342.JPG%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 42px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 6482px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-35521341456815848072014-10-17T10:57:00.001-04:002014-10-17T10:57:28.195-04:00Soccer Match PredictorI'm sure that some of you, like me, will be attending your kids' soccer matches this weekend. I've discovered that sometimes all you have to do is observe the opposing team and their fans to figure out how a game is going to turn out. I've prepared a test that predicts for you whether it's going to be consolation Powerades at QT or celebratory ice creams at DQ. Answer the questions and check your score at the end of the quiz.<br />
<br />
<b>1. Goalkeeper</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
The opposing goalkeeper is warming up before the game. +1<br />
The opposing goalkeeper is warming up before the game and has tattoos and visible facial hair (male or female). +2<br />
The opposing goalkeeper is warming up before the game and looks like this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s.ndtvimg.com/images/content/2014/jun/806/tim-howard-usa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://s.ndtvimg.com/images/content/2014/jun/806/tim-howard-usa.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
+10<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b>2. Language</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Parents of the opposing team are speaking Spanish, Italian, German, or British Isles English. +1</li>
<li>The coach of the opposing team is yelling at the players in a language other than English. +2</li>
<li>The coach of the opposing team is yelling at the players in a language other than English and the players appear to understand. +3</li>
<li>The coach is clearly American, but using Britishisms like "brilliant" and "beauty."</li>
<ul>
<li>Check to see if coach is Gwyneth Paltrow. If not Gwyneth: +1</li>
<li>If Gwyneth: -7.5</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.imnotobsessed.com/wp-content/uploads/tracy-anderson_wenn5188804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.imnotobsessed.com/wp-content/uploads/tracy-anderson_wenn5188804.jpg" height="311" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwyneth is in great shape, yes, but it's mostly from eating sand and air<br />and doing whatever it is she is doing with those industrial rubber bands.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<b>3. Player's Names</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Girls Team - there is a player named Mia. +2</li>
<li>Girls Team - there is a player named Brandy. +1</li>
<li>Girls Team - there are players named Mia and Brandy. +4</li>
<li>Boys Team - there is a player named Beckham. +1</li>
<li>Boys Team - more than one player has Italian or Spanish-sounding names (i.e., Marcelo, Paolo, Claudio, Cristiano, etc.) +5</li>
<li>Boys or Girls Team - You overhear that a family has moved to the States from Rosario, Argentina in order to <a href="http://ftw.usatoday.com/2014/09/lionel-messi-hometown-bans-parents-name">name their child Lionel Messi</a> +10</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>4. Injuries</b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>A player on the opposing team is playing with a knee brace. +1 </li>
<li>A player on the opposing team is playing with an arm, hand, or finger in a cast or splint. +2 </li>
<li>A player is visibly injured and unable to play, but is wearing a uniform and is sitting on the team bench. +3</li>
<li>A player is in a full-body cast and is wheeled onto the sidelines in a hospital bed. A soccer jersey has been painted onto the cast. +12</li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
<b>5. Team Spirit</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>At least one fan on the opposing side is wearing spirit wear for the opposing team. +2</li>
<li>A fan on the opposing side has made homemade signs supporting the team. +3</li>
<li>A fan on the opposing side have painted their chests. +5</li>
<li>A fan on the opposing side has a jersey number, team name, or image of a player's face shaved into their hair or tattooed on their body. +12</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/06/28/article-0-1F37338F00000578-132_634x553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/06/28/article-0-1F37338F00000578-132_634x553.jpg" height="348" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This walks that fine line between being flattering to Tim Howard <br />and being totally creepy. <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/worldcup2014/article-2673323/Tim-Howard-makes-great-shave-San-Antonio-barber-offering-World-Cup-themed-haircuts-football-fans.html">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>6. Rules</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Parents on the opposing side yell "nice ball," "man on," and/or "great first touch" without acknowledging any double entendres. +1</li>
<li>You overhear a parent on the opposing side authoritatively explaining the offsides rule. +5</li>
<li>Parent explaining the offsides rule prefaces explanation by saying, "when I played for Real Madrid..." +20</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>7. Teminology</b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Opposing team refers to the goalie as "keeper." +1</li>
<li>Opposing team refers to the field as "the pitch." +2</li>
<li>Opposing team refers to the uniform as "the kit." +4</li>
<li>Opposing team refers to the linesman as "<a href="http://bleacherreport.com/articles/1549088-world-footballs-15-most-famous-insults/page/2">hijo de puta</a>." +10</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<b>8. Cheers</b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>The opposing team has more than one team cheer. +1</li>
<li>The parents know the cheer and join in. +2</li>
<li>The cheer is in a foreign language. +3</li>
<li>The cheer is in a foreign language and is accompanied by a choreographed dance. +5</li>
<li>The cheer triggers a flashmob set to "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGtWWb9emYI">Ole Ola</a>." +8</li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
Add up your score:<br />
<br />
<b>-7.5-5 points</b> - Your child's team will win the game handily, in no small part because the opposing team will score at least twice on its own goal. Be sure to get Goopy's food cleanse tips before she leaves the game.<br />
<b>6-15 points</b> - Your team has a fighting chance. As an incentive, offer to get a Jurgen Klinsmann tattoo if they win.<br />
<b>16-25</b> - Offsides! Hang up your cleats and Google pictures of Cristiano Ronaldo to make yourself feel better.<br />
<b>26-35</b> - Red card! Learn Italian, name your next pet Mia Hamm (especially if it's a pig), and work on saying "head it" without laughing.<br />
<b>36 +</b> - Outlook is bleak. Time to take up a real American sport like lacrosse.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://nebula.wsimg.com/a06c28094a6212c27c2bcdc5d9ff30da?AccessKeyId=A5FCFB7238ACDC8FCE9E&disposition=0&alloworigin=1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://nebula.wsimg.com/a06c28094a6212c27c2bcdc5d9ff30da?AccessKeyId=A5FCFB7238ACDC8FCE9E&disposition=0&alloworigin=1" height="381" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.riverindianslacrosse.com/">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Fsrc%3Ddashboard&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.imnotobsessed.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252Ftracy-anderson_wenn5188804.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 735px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D2019999524357394672%23editor%2Fsrc%3Ddashboard&media=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com%2Fgadgets%2Fproxy%3Furl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.imnotobsessed.com%252Fwp-content%252Fuploads%252Ftracy-anderson_wenn5188804.jpg%26container%3Dblogger%26gadget%3Da%26rewriteMime%3Dimage%252F*&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 735px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-92121832358638885082014-10-08T14:09:00.000-04:002014-10-08T14:09:48.501-04:00Least Sexy Inspirations for Sexy Halloween CostumesHalloween is just around the corner and I am SOOO excited to see all the people dressed like Ebola doctors in their Tyvex suits:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.foreignpolicy.com/files/imagecache/860x/ebola_workers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.foreignpolicy.com/files/imagecache/860x/ebola_workers.jpg" height="341" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2014/09/22/colonial_lines_drawn_again_for_ebola_aid">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of course there will be the inevitable sexy Ebola doctor outfits:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.breitbart.com/mediaserver/Breitbart/Big-Peace/2014/Ebola/ebola-hose-down-ap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.breitbart.com/mediaserver/Breitbart/Big-Peace/2014/Ebola/ebola-hose-down-ap.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.breitbart.com/Big-Peace/2014/10/06/Spanish-Health-Worker-Becomes-First-Ebola-Patient-to-Contract-Disease-Outside-of-Africa">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The post-exposure spray down is what makes it sexy. It's just like the water scene in <i>Flashdance</i>:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://hennepintheatretrust.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/flashdance-water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://hennepintheatretrust.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/flashdance-water.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.hennepintheatretrust.org/2013/03/29/flashdance-30-years-later-the-three-most-memorable-aspects-of-flashdance-like-youve-never-experienced-before/">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I'm fairly sure that there won't be any sexy Ebola costumes, but that doesn't mean that there aren't some excellent examples of sexy costumes that are inspired by completely unsexy sources. Your honor, I submit plaintiff's exhibit A, marked for identification, Mario Brothers:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.walmartimages.com/i/p/11/13/06/04/11/1113060411293_500X500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.walmartimages.com/i/p/11/13/06/04/11/1113060411293_500X500.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Available<a href="http://www.wholesalehalloweencostumes.com/adult-costumes/womens-costumes/new-halloween-costumes/DI73750-sexy-deluxe-super-mario-brothers-mario-womens-costume.html"> here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Who looks at the real Mario Bros (pictured below) and thinks, pinch in those overalls at the waist, add some fingerless gloves, some brightly colored heels and a mustache on a stick and that is one <i>sex-ay</i> lady's costume?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140710210834/epicrapbattlesofhistory/images/d/d2/Mario_luigi_basedon.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140710210834/epicrapbattlesofhistory/images/d/d2/Mario_luigi_basedon.jpeg" height="320" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://epicrapbattlesofhistory.wikia.com/wiki/Mario_Brothers">Via</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Similarly, but perhaps even more egregious is this look:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzUrLuAsBBvN_L5C31RoLafX7HUBd8j9K3fv3fFh-CI5mUmgnTsIs24DM9ln-D_-hJ_SjqP9JGez2WQ72Y5F1k8v6p0LeBrIUvopWG1uq6W4H33FraMyxCwKojzqe1_AmB2o8pAUIed9C/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+2.11.45+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzUrLuAsBBvN_L5C31RoLafX7HUBd8j9K3fv3fFh-CI5mUmgnTsIs24DM9ln-D_-hJ_SjqP9JGez2WQ72Y5F1k8v6p0LeBrIUvopWG1uq6W4H33FraMyxCwKojzqe1_AmB2o8pAUIed9C/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+2.11.45+PM.png" height="400" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Available<a href="http://www.wholesalehalloweencostumes.com/adult-costumes/sexy-costumes/super-heroes/R887419-womens-sexy-teenage-mutant-ninja-turtle.html?CPID=12fe9755-1560-497d-8af3-13a67405ef2d"> here</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is a "sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Raphael costume." This is not to be confused with the simply "sassy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Raphael costume:"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeQ1elRVWM73Z6wrc_VdRSn_ICFyqaUB9wdAglbiR7Pv29qkGqhzv-I_5w3EyxagsbZTK6COGwU1gs6MM-0rCexkH83vGr0MdIqmKfXV6QFE7cxrtyGYNeLJi10ltBpIjRbaSO3kqe78N/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+2.13.45+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeQ1elRVWM73Z6wrc_VdRSn_ICFyqaUB9wdAglbiR7Pv29qkGqhzv-I_5w3EyxagsbZTK6COGwU1gs6MM-0rCexkH83vGr0MdIqmKfXV6QFE7cxrtyGYNeLJi10ltBpIjRbaSO3kqe78N/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+2.13.45+PM.png" height="400" width="285" /></a></div>
The main distinction I see is that sexy Raphael carries her shell as a purse, while sassy Raphael wears her shell on her back. Thus, I think we can conclude that turtles with shells on their backs are less sexy than turtles without shells. Since turtles need their shells to survive, followed to the logical conclusion, dead turtles are sexier than living turtles. Also, did you know that this is a turtle-related thing that people do to their defenseless babies?<br />
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I can <i>assure</i> you that none of my kids would have allowed me to dress them up like a reptile. In fact, the Boy drew the line at amphibian.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivS4v9H9QSyVoHCfUEwDf5_fl_eqDgqkd6z8NXHOJe5HrOwqQXgjLUpKcBMAIVfyC3_2hh72Nr-AcsKE4LOJ0Vat_JyJCGBLLlZRVkuwQDHMwZPseflMOXzeknrMsfX9wHnCAQyS2-G43C/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.05.30+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivS4v9H9QSyVoHCfUEwDf5_fl_eqDgqkd6z8NXHOJe5HrOwqQXgjLUpKcBMAIVfyC3_2hh72Nr-AcsKE4LOJ0Vat_JyJCGBLLlZRVkuwQDHMwZPseflMOXzeknrMsfX9wHnCAQyS2-G43C/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.05.30+PM.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think I like this...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgOzY0E4kET4n5krXH5Db_2zF6GnnvdIfpajEu0qVye_HXmefd7p8aD2MPlrdWVfRN_V97ljrtAA1NSfMHoz8cGquO4qwJ_9gaVZiMDrbMdmxf6d624xXLukyYyiuR_sMLNSzh2UkeKlp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.06.52+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgOzY0E4kET4n5krXH5Db_2zF6GnnvdIfpajEu0qVye_HXmefd7p8aD2MPlrdWVfRN_V97ljrtAA1NSfMHoz8cGquO4qwJ_9gaVZiMDrbMdmxf6d624xXLukyYyiuR_sMLNSzh2UkeKlp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.06.52+PM.png" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, the famous toddler back arch. Perfect for making it impossible<br />to buckle carseats and pose for Halloween pictures.</td></tr>
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Other unsexy things that costume makers have sexed up for Halloween include children's stuffed animals:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTwq4StBupQFTU8meiH9m2h1-4WqcVyCUuuM5d0oztTlVk8vZN68jogq7iwAeOLV4au0INc32vBOyVk6Rb_RlK2HW1SZJ6n-11_xQzjUvCHn0mhfrhRVgn4g1w3r5NaMIxSB_2WFV0iFe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.13.37+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTwq4StBupQFTU8meiH9m2h1-4WqcVyCUuuM5d0oztTlVk8vZN68jogq7iwAeOLV4au0INc32vBOyVk6Rb_RlK2HW1SZJ6n-11_xQzjUvCHn0mhfrhRVgn4g1w3r5NaMIxSB_2WFV0iFe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-07+at+6.13.37+PM.png" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Available <a href="http://www.wholesalehalloweencostumes.com/adult-costumes/sexy-costumes/tv-movie/LACB85257-sexy-womens-care-bears-cheer-bear-costume.html?CPID=12fe9755-1560-497d-8af3-13a67405ef2d">here</a></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.lehighvalleylive.com/entertainment-general_impact/photo/care-bears-2012-f4fa62b7a3cc5c1b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media.lehighvalleylive.com/entertainment-general_impact/photo/care-bears-2012-f4fa62b7a3cc5c1b.jpg" height="160" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inspiration. <a href="http://www.lehighvalleylive.com/entertainment-general/index.ssf/2012/04/care_bears_are_coming_back.html">Via</a></td></tr>
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The Care Bears were all about happiness and innocence, why on earth did anyone think it makes sense to morph them into a skimpy polyester mess? Did someone get confused between teddy bears and teddies (1970's speak for some type of lingerie)? There is just nothing sexy about stuffed bears who work together to bring good cheer and love to the cold-hearted.<br />
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Speaking of cold-hearted, this costume is just the biggest head-scratcher to me:<br />
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<a href="http://o.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/midas/b46374d7bdc47808cdf0c6bae0100116/200819794/sexy+olaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://o.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/midas/b46374d7bdc47808cdf0c6bae0100116/200819794/sexy+olaf.jpg" height="400" width="221" /></a></div>
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Yes, that is a sexy Olaf costume. I have to say that Olaf has got to be the least-sexy character in <i>Frozen</i>. Sven, the reindeer is sexier than Olaf. <a href="http://the-mystery-case-files.wikia.com/wiki/Oaken">Oaken</a> of Wandering Oaken's Trading Post and Sauna (and the originator of <a href="http://blog.uber.com/2011/12/31/nye-surge-pricing-explained/">surge-pricing</a>) is sexier than Olaf. The trolls are sexier than Olaf. Yet, the sexy Olaf costume is sold out on Yandy.com.<br />
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Unsatisfied with sexing up all your childhood toys, now the costume companies are trying to make history a little sexier, too. I give you "sexy Joan of Arc:"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-Nun3MJouWqFMBywiokJic5h8QiS8CroZbNUiR7fNR_IkidHvEtXBNtdQmFB76NXwzB3Amv1YC1ybS0GMfYl-ILZGQGAgJVx6zi-9d39SW_ESbS7aVx7SohaF9q-KNHakf93-c4DEHAx/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-08+at+1.11.25+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-Nun3MJouWqFMBywiokJic5h8QiS8CroZbNUiR7fNR_IkidHvEtXBNtdQmFB76NXwzB3Amv1YC1ybS0GMfYl-ILZGQGAgJVx6zi-9d39SW_ESbS7aVx7SohaF9q-KNHakf93-c4DEHAx/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-10-08+at+1.11.25+PM.png" height="400" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Available <a href="http://www.wholesalehalloweencostumes.com/adult-costumes/sexy-costumes/renaissance/LA85202-sexy-womens-joan-of-arc-costume.html?CPID=12fe9755-1560-497d-8af3-13a67405ef2d">here</a></td></tr>
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A little history, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_of_Arc">Joan of Arc</a> was a French girl who received visions of saints who told her to fight against the English to return the French king to power. She dressed like a soldier while in battle and after she was captured and was put in prison she continued to dress in men's clothing to protect herself from being raped by her captors. Eventually, she was tried and found guilty of heresy and executed by burning. Somehow, with that historical basis we end up with this Joan of Arc costume which looks like something a waitress at a Medieval-themed restaurant run by Hooters would wear. There is nothing sexier than religious martyrdom.<br />
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I am relieved that I wasn't able to find any sexy Susan B. Anthony costumes or Sandra Day O'Connor costumes, but that doesn't mean they're not coming. Somewhere a costume designer is looking at a stapler, a dog biscuit, and a picture of Alexander Hamilton and thinking of ways to turn them into sexy costumes for next Halloween.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 78px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-34907941484719190292014-10-03T18:16:00.001-04:002014-10-03T18:16:55.087-04:00Update: Atlanta Botanical Garden is Getting a New Restaurant! Well, apparently I am more influential than I thought because right after I published my <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/staycation-day-3-atlanta-botanical.html">scathing review of my e-coli salad from the Atlanta Botanical Garden</a>, I read in the AJC (well, Mom read it and dropped off the article) that the ABG is expanding and the plans include "a two-story restaurant, with a dramatic view of Midtown Atlanta" and salads that aren't black and slimy. It's true! The restaurant "will use many locally sourced foods, including produce from the botanical garden's own edible plants exhibit." Yes! There are also plans to redesign the children's garden, which was last renovated in 2002.<br />
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The ABG has undertaken a new capital campaign to raise the $40 million needed for these improvements and is already more than half way to the goal. Anne Cox Chambers, a trustee and longtime supporter of the ABG has pledged $9.6 million. Can you imagine having that much money? Good for her for spending it on something that the community will enjoy instead of <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/price-tag-geoge-clooney-wedding-set-13-million-article-1.1957247">a wedding</a> or 225 <a href="http://www.businessinsider.com/kanye-west-gifted-kim-kardashian-a-george-condo-birkin-bag-for-christmas-2013-12">Hermes Birkins painted with naked demons</a>:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fashionbombdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/kim-kardashian-los-angeles-celine-coat-saint-laurent-pumps-hermes-george-condo-birkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://fashionbombdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/kim-kardashian-los-angeles-celine-coat-saint-laurent-pumps-hermes-george-condo-birkin.jpg" height="320" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://teewhy-hive.blogspot.com/2014/02/george-condo-speaks-on-kim-kardashians.html">via</a></td></tr>
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That reminds me that I was looking at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PeopleStyleWatchMag">People StyleWatch</a> magazine when I was getting my hair cut. I'm pretty sure this magazine only exists at hair salons and it's weird because it features actresses who are more famous for their style than their acting (i.e., Sophia Bush, Jessica Alba, Julianne Hough). Anyway, there was this picture of Shailene Woodley wearing glitter pants to a movie premiere:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.seventeen.com/cm/seventeen/images/MX/sev-shailene-woodley-weekend-outfit-glitter-pants-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.seventeen.com/cm/seventeen/images/MX/sev-shailene-woodley-weekend-outfit-glitter-pants-blog.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.seventeen.com/fashion/blog/shailene-woodley-glitter-pants-outfit">via</a></td></tr>
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That's her on the left and the elements of the outfit are broken down courtesy of Seventeen Magazine so that a high school sophomore from Indiana can wear this look to one of her red carpet events. I wish I could remember the exact price of Shailene's (I'm resisting the urge to type "Saline's") glitter pants, but I want to say they were just under $2000. If I invent a time machine, travel back in time, and steal the idea for diet booze for ladies from <a href="http://www.skinnygirlcocktails.com/lpa">Bethenny Frankel</a> and get obscenely wealthy, I will still never be able to justify wearing $2000 glitter pants. (Hmmm, maybe just inventing a time machine would be lucrative enough and then Bethenny and I can both be wealthy and hang out while drinking diet margaritas and wearing our <a href="http://www.people.com/article/bethenny-frankel-daughter-pajamas-judge-says-stop">daughters' pajamas</a>. Of course, Bethenny might make us use the time machine so that she never Instagrammed the picture of her wearing her four-year-old daughter's pjs. It's just like "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_You_Give_a_Mouse_a_Cookie">Give a Mouse a Cookie</a>," only with time machines, diet booze, and size 4T Hello Kitty jammies.)<br />
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It also seems funny that Shailene Woodley in particular would be wearing these pants because she <a href="http://dlisted.com/2013/08/29/shailene-woodley-is-the-earthy-forest-girl-version-of-goop/">makes her own toothpaste, gathers mountain stream water, and is her own apothecary</a>. But, I suppose that if you are making toothpaste out of <a href="http://news.instyle.com/2014/05/16/shailene-woodley-makes-her-own-toothpaste-check-out-her-eco-beauty-recipes/">clay and essential oils</a> instead of buying <a href="http://www.tomsofmainestore.com/product_list.do?q=toothpaste&promoCode=TOMPAYPCWEBMACSS">Tom's of Maine</a>, you are just the right mix of quirky to wear an outfit that's librarian on top and Menudo on the bottom. <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 725px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jameliassignature.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/boy-band-style-menudo-031.jpg?w=640" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://jameliassignature.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/boy-band-style-menudo-031.jpg?w=640" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This may be child abuse.<br />
<a href="http://jameliassignature.wordpress.com/">via</a></td></tr>
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Of course, Shailene probably didn't pay for her pants because if you're rich everyone gives you stuff for free and if you're a regular you pay for everything. And if you're a sucker (like me) <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/staycation-day-3-atlanta-botanical.html">you pay for an expensive, inedible wilted salad and end up eating a banana</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 725px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 725px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 742px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 742px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-91873625217953380972014-09-29T21:35:00.002-04:002014-09-29T21:35:55.729-04:00Staycation Day 5: Sky ZoneTGIAO! That's Thank Goodness It's Almost Over, with the "It's" referring to both our staycation week and my blogging about our comings and goings. Yes, those are two things, so "It's" should probably be "They're," but TGTAO is a bad acronym because it could also stand for "Twerking Grandma Throws Ass Out." In case you hadn't figured, I am really trying to get back into blogging and recapping our week was an easy-ish way to get back into writing daily. Hopefully, once I'm into a routine I'll get back into writing more high-concept posts about <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/10/dog-people.html">dog people</a> and <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/03/my-phone-call-with-dora-explorer.html">imaginary telephone calls with Dora the Explorer</a>.<br />
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To briefly recap earlier events in our staycation; on Monday night I discovered that the two Sky Zone trampoline parks closest to us <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/stacation-day-2-panic-and-clue-town.html">did not open until 4pm</a>. This was a major disappointment for the kids, particularly the Boy who didn't want to do anything other than visit Sky Zone and play Minecraft for his week off. Turned out that there is a third Sky Zone location in Kennesaw, which is <i>even farther</i> than the other two locations. But, the Kennesaw location was opening at noon because some schools in the area had the same random break week that we did. Hallelujah! I bought hour long jump passes for noon, because Google Maps was predicting a trip time of an hour and we had to book it back to our natural surroundings by 2 pm for the Boy's 9-year-old well appointment at the doctor. Delicious box lunches would be served in the car. With our 60-minutes of physical activity and flu vaccinations, staycation day 5 was unofficially sponsored by the CDC.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ih.constantcontact.com/fs041/1101063573915/img/753.jpg?a=1108590085087" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://ih.constantcontact.com/fs041/1101063573915/img/753.jpg?a=1108590085087" height="640" width="451" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting a jump on <a href="http://archive.constantcontact.com/fs041/1101063573915/archive/1108590085087.html">National Handwashing Week</a> and realizing that<br />I've been washing my hands wrong for my entire life. And that was<br />the one thing I thought I was doing <i>right</i>!</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>Driving anywhere turns into a big production for us because I have a horrible sense of direction and must Google Map nearly any destination outside of our neighborhood. To make matters worse, my bottom-of-the-line minivan doesn't have GPS, and my ancient iPhone doesn't hold a charge for very long, especially if I use Google Maps. As a result, my center console has a pile of directions that serves as an archive of every place I've driven since I last cleaned the car. On the plus side, the big kids get to read me the directions, which is possibly educational for them and definitely amusing for me. The Boy is an especially entertaining direction-reader because he adopts a computerized voice and says things like, "In 400 feet your destination is (pause) on the right."<br />
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The Kennesaw Sky Zone is tucked away in a nondescript industrial park and you would totally miss it if you weren't looking for it. ("In 100 feet turn left on (pause) Airport Boulevard.") We pulled up at about 11:45 and waited in the car for a minute because I wasn't sure that it was open. Then a school bus pulled up in front of the building and I went into frantic panic mode, rushing the kids out of the car so we could beat the bus full of kids into the building. We hustled in and flew through the line. (Note: If you ever go to Sky Zone, buy your passes and sign the waivers online before you go because it saves a <i>ton</i> of time at check in. Also, you can reuse your Sky Zone socks if they aren't ripped.) I snapped this picture of the kids waiting for noon so they could begin jumping:<br />
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The bus full of kids was on a school trip and my children were incredulous. "They're going to Sky Zone for a class trip? It's not educational! They aren't learning anything!" I suggested that maybe the class could learn something about physics, but the kids didn't buy that explanation. Unfortunately, the majority of the kids on the school trip were wearing their P.E. uniforms which were grey shirts and blue shorts...exactly what the Boy was wearing. At Sky Zone, you see your kids before they start jumping and then they're off in three different directions and you spend the rest of the time trying to find them to make sure they haven't dislocated anything or gotten kidnapped. This is difficult to do when there are 40 kids dressed just like your kid.<br />
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Sky Zone has several different areas set up with different trampoline-based activities. There is a free jump area, a basketball area, a dodgeball area, and a foam pit area. The kids jumped happily for about ten minutes and then the Boy found me to complain:<br />
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Boy: Mom, the referee is being totally unfair in dodgeball. He's making the worst calls <i>ever</i>.<br />
Me: Well, he's not really a referee. He's just a college kid there to make sure no one gets hurt and to tell kids to leave the game when they get out.<br />
Boy: (outraged) But, he's so bad at it! He's terrible. He said I was out and the ball didn't even hit me. It's so unfair.<br />
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The Boy has an overdeveloped sense of justice and one of his most common complaints is about the unfairness of the world. He's right, life <i>is</i> unfair. It's so unfair that there should be no expectation of fairness in certain areas, and one of those areas is at a dodgeball game in a trampoline park. He'll also complain about the unfair calls during soccer games at recess, during which the calls are being made by the eight and nine year old players. <i>Of course</i>, they're making bad calls. The surprise would be if they were making honest calls. I've tried to explain this to him, just to cut down on the shear volume of times he complains about something being unfair. It doesn't seem to matter, and he demands fairness in all realms at all times. You won't be surprised that he is <i>constantly</i> disappointed.<br />
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I suggested that he play something else that wasn't so fraught with the possibility of injustice. He stalked off grumbling to find his sisters. After about 30 minutes, they all came and found me.<br />
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Baby: This is boring. I want to go home.<br />
Boy: Yeah, and the dodgeball game is super unfair. It's supposed to be for three to nine year olds and there was a kid in there who was as tall as Dad.<br />
Girl: We should go and trick him. Ask him what year he was born. If it's before 2004, you know he's lying.<br />
Baby: I want to go <i>now!</i><br />
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This was the one thing that they all wanted to do on their week off and we drove an hour each way so that they could jump on some trampolines and now they wanted to leave with ten minutes of jump time left on their passes. What to do? I didn't want to guilt trip them by telling them the trouble I'd gone to getting them to Sky Zone, but I didn't appreciate how ungrateful they were being.<br />
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Me: You need to go jump for ten more minutes and then we can go. We are driving an hour each way to get here, so we need to spend <i>at least</i> an hour jumping.<br />
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I'm not sure that this taught them the correct lesson, but they did learn that lesson that we all learn about building something up in your mind to be impossibly perfect, only to be disappointed when reality smacks you in the face. Kinda like how I had <i>expected</i> that everyone would have a good time at Sky Zone, when in <i>reality</i> they complained like they always do. Ah well, apparently the kids were wrong. You can learn something at Sky Zone. <br />
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-70242882416639810792014-09-26T15:24:00.001-04:002014-09-26T15:24:32.917-04:00Staycation Day 4: Recreational SlummingWe changed things up on Staycation Day 4 because I had an appointment in the morning, so Grammy generously offered to watch the kids. The kids are a little more rambunctious than Sister and I were as children, so I'm fairly sure that the second they leave Grammy's house she pours herself a glass of wine and takes a nap. Grammy already has her hands full trying to train Hello Puppy, who is just about the cutest puppy <i>ever. </i>But as anyone who has tried to train a dog will tell you, cuteness is in the eye of the person <i>not</i> getting woken up at 4 am to watch the puppy sniff the grass for ten minutes and not pee. I hoped that the kids would help out with Hello Puppy, who they all seem to like better than the Dog. You might be wondering how Hello Puppy and Dog get along. Well, the first time they met, the Dog was <i>thrilled</i> to find something over which she could exert dominance (her usual M.O. is to try to take down the Baby). They chased each other and tumbled around on the floor and then the Girl said, "Look, [the Dog] is trying to play wheelbarrow with the puppy!" Yesssss, that's exactly what's happening.<br />
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Just as a palate cleanser, here is a dog pushing a wheelbarrow:<br />
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Just so you don't get the idea that I was doing something fun for myself, I had a physical therapy appointment for <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/hello-kitty-is-not-cat-and-other.html">my back</a>. Going to PT has a certain Hotel California-like quality to it. Time loses all significance and when I leave, sometimes after two hours, I can't for the life of me explain what took so long. I also feel a little dishrag-tired, especially if I've had dry needling. After PT, all I want to do is go home and relax. When the kids are in school, at least that's an option (even if I rarely just sit around and relax). Unfortunately, with the kids on break, what I had to do was entertain three children who were tired of spending time together.<br />
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<a name='more'></a> After I relieved Grammy of her babysitting duties and took the kids home, I realized we had to come up with a plan, and fast because my cleaning people were coming. There is nothing more disheartening than being in the house while it's being cleaned and watching the kids immediately ransacking the parts that have already been finished. At least if you aren't home you get that 30 seconds of euphoria that comes with opening the door to a clean house before the children trash it. Over the Boy's <i>strong </i>objections, I decided to take them bowling because it's super close and I was running out of ideas.<br />
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We have a bowing alley about a mile from our house, which might make you think you can picture our neighborhood, until I tell you that it's across the street from a Buddhist meditation center. I'm fairly sure that bowling alleys across from meditation centers is the definition of "mixed use." The mall in which the bowling alley is located is undergoing renovations and will welcome Walmart as a new anchor tenant. The addition of Walmart was pretty controversial and I can understand that people have strong dislike for Walmart, its business practices, and some of the products sold there. I'm choosing to look on the bright side, which includes Walmart Bingo:<br />
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I just LOLed at the just underpants and no underpants dichotomy. Which is worse? Hard to say, it probably depends on the situation. Meanwhile, that's probably the first time "dichotomy" was used in reference to Walmart and underpants. Come to think of it, the same Bingo chart might work just as well at the Boy's baseball tournament this weekend.<br />
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The bowling alley smells like skunked beer and b.o., and it attracts the most randomly random people, which is always interesting. However, we were the <i>only</i> people who were bowling at 2pm on a Thursday, which gave me a few minutes to chat up the employee about the big changes coming to the mall. He told me that the owners of the bowling alley were given just under $1 million to stay open during the Walmart construction and that they were planning to do some big renovations to the bowling alley with that money. I fear that it will take <i>far</i> more than $1 million to do what needs to be done to the bowling alley. And even after any renovations, it will still be located next to a hair-braiding shop. But, he did deliver some good news (from my POV, anyway). Starbucks has plans to build a drive-through in the renovated mall complex. You heard it here first!<br />
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The kids bowled and I enjoyed the medley of early 1980's music. We heard Madonna ("Borderline"), Prince ("When Dove's Cry"), Human League ("Don't You Want Me?"), and Toto ("Africa"). How is it that I can remember the words to all these songs when I can't remember what time the Baby has softball practice? The bowling alley had a big poster advertising their upcoming Celebrity Bowl-a-thon:<br />
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So, so, so many questions here. Why not donate the money to finding better cures and treatments for sickle cell anemia, instead of just "awareness?" What do you get for the extra $25 per person VIP package? Most importantly, who are these celebrities who have been attracted to appear at a bowling alley in a strip mall whose biggest claim is that it will <i>soon</i> be acquiring a Walmart? Turns out there was a poster showing all the celebrities:<br />
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I know it's hard to read, but trust me, there's a good chance you wouldn't know who any of them are even if you could see it better. The only "celebrity" I recognized was Ronald McDonald and I'm pretty sure he's not going to be bowling because, for one, there's no way they'd have shoes in his size. I hope that the Bowl-a-thon was a huge success and that Chantal Zaky, Ms. Universe Jamaica can parlay her appearance to something bigger. Well, I suppose she's gotten a mention in a blog read by literally dozens of people, so that's a good thing. I'm also wondering whether "Ms. Universe" is a different beauty contest than "Miss Universe," or if that's a typo? Sigh.<br />
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So, I had one last day to make the kids' dreams come true with a trip to Sky Zone. I found that the Kennesaw location was open at noon on Friday and that's where we would go to finish up our Super Staycation week!<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-35876190036206279972014-09-25T13:45:00.001-04:002014-09-25T13:45:55.149-04:00Staycation Day 3: Atlanta Botanical GardenPart of the reason that we didn't travel for fall break is because we had to do some work around the house. I feel like home improvements fall into two categories: improvements of omission and improvements of commission. In law school you learn that you can be charged with a crime of commission, which is an overt act like stealing a loaf of bread. But, you can also be charged with a crime of omission, which would be <i>failing</i> to do something that you're supposed to do like not paying income taxes (take note, <a href="http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/the-situation-charged-with-tax-evasion-on-nearly-9-million-earned-2014249">Jersey Shore cast members</a>). So, if you're thinking about home improvements, there are things that are genuine improvements to your property, like adding an outdoor fireplace, or remodeling a bathroom. These are improvements of commission. Then there are improvements that are just expected, but if you don't have them...people notice. For example, if you buy a new hot water heater, no one is going to compliment you on the temperature of your water. ("It is truly a pleasure to wash my hands at your house because the water is just so temperate," said no one ever.) However, if you <i>don't</i> have hot water, people will be like, "what? You have no hot water? What are you, a polar bear?" These are improvements of omission, only noted if you omit doing them.<br />
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In any case, our home improvement was of the omission variety. So, we had to spend a chunk of change on something that no one will ever notice AND no fall break trip.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://discoveringice.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/1960-PSYCHO-0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://discoveringice.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/1960-PSYCHO-0011.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my reaction to a cold shower, even though it is <br />supposedly <a href="http://www.thehackedmind.com/7-reasons-to-take-cold-showers-and-1-that-really-matters/">good for you</a>. </td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>Sorry for that long digression, but there's not much to say about our Staycation day 3. It was Wednesday and the kids were even crankier about being extracted from the house than they were on Tuesday. The Botanical Garden is an old stand by for us. We've gone to the <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2012/11/locals-only.html">Garden Nights, Holiday Lights</a> for three years and really enjoy seeing the <a href="http://atlantabotanicalgarden.org/events-classes/events/scarecrows-garden">Scarecrows in the Garden</a>, which is the fall feature. Unfortunately, we were a little early for the scarecrows, but the <a href="http://atlantabotanicalgarden.org/">Imaginary Worlds</a> installation was still growing (ha, ha) strong. There are all these huge plant sculptures of animals and mythical creatures:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water goddess. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Python</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dog</td></tr>
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I feel like Imaginary Worlds has been there for a while, maybe a year, and we'd seen it before. But, I thought it would be nice to do something nature-y and outside. Plus, I feel like I'm suffering from memory loss, so I had forgotten almost everything.<br />
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The one kind of dicey thing at the Garden has always been the food situation. Before the big Garden renovation the food was pretty good (albeit Aquarium-level expensive), with soups and salads, plus some pretty good options for the kids. After the renovation and expansion, <a href="http://metrofreshatl.com/">MetroFres</a>h took over the food and I still thought the options were good for adults, but the options were not great for certain picky eaters I know. Well, MetroFresh is out and the Garden is making the food in-house, although staying with the MetroFresh concept of soups, salads, and sandwiches. They have also added personal pizzas to the menu, which was perfect for the Boy and the Girl. The Baby got a kid's meal, which was a ham and cheese sandwich. I don't think she's ever eaten ham, so I told her it was a special kind of turkey in order to avoid a scene. There were some prepared salads displayed and I picked one with fruit and blue cheese. MISTAKE!!<br />
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First, I am not a food princess. I have sent restaurant food back to the kitchen exactly three times: once because there was a caterpillar on my plate, once because there was a fly in my ice cream, and once because there was a cigarette butt in my chicken and broccoli. To me, anything is edible unless there's a foreign object. As soon as I opened up the salad and got a whiff of spoiled lettuce, I knew I was in trouble. You know when you buy a carton of mixed greens and it emits that rancid smell when you open it, you just prepare yourself for all the baby red oak to be black and stuck to the arugula and having to pick through the whole carton to find anything useable. It's enough to make you stick to romaine, which must have a shelf life comparable to a Twinkie.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, I see the side-eye. Yes, I was exaggerating.<br />Twinkies have a much longer shelf-life than romaine lettuce.</td></tr>
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I went about picking through the lettuce and quickly discovered that none of it was salvageable. All the lettuce was black and slimy and inedible. I shut the lid and ate some greasy kale salad off the Baby's plate. I, <a href="http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/katy-perry-slams-unnamed-mean-girl-after-talk-of-taylor-swift-feud-201499">like Taylor Swift</a>, dislike confrontation, so I wrote a catchy song about how gross my salad was. No, I didn't, but I did return the salad (which I think makes me more emotionally mature than Taylor Swift, so there's that). The restaurant employee looked pained and offered me another salad, which I declined because the first one was just that bad. I didn't get my money back, but I did get a free banana. There's a sucker born every minute and I <i>own</i> 12:59 PM on October 31st. When I was heading back to my seat, banana in hand, I noticed two ladies sitting next to us with a different prepared salad sitting uneaten on their table. I asked whether they had a problem with the salad and she said it was spoiled, too. So, consider yourself warned not to eat the prepared salads at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. The children, however, were very happy with their pizza and "turkey" sandwiches, so those items remain as viable options.<br />
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Lunch situation aside, we enjoyed the actual Garden, itself. And it was home school day at the Garden, which left me with the impression that home schoolers have larger than average families, but that the kids are better behaved. All the kids seem to pitch in to help the family, while mine stare daggers when I ask them to pick up the dirty socks that they've thrown on the floor. After a week of doing homeschool-esque activities, I know for a fact that I'm not wired to homeschool, nor are the children wired to home learn. When we started the week off, the Boy said he planned to finish "The Sorcerer's Stone" by the end of the week, but I don't think he did anything other than play Minecraft. With that in mind, we spent Staycation Day 4 at the bowling alley, where the only thing anyone learns is what songs were popular in 1984.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 202px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 1957px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 202px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 1957px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 202px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 1957px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 202px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 1957px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-81584875101866297992014-09-24T10:12:00.004-04:002014-09-24T10:12:50.802-04:00Stacation Day 2: Panic and Clue TownNot to toot my own horn, but I thought that <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/09/stacation-day-1-georgia-aquarium.html">Stacation Day 1</a> went pretty smoothly. The complaints were minimal, we all enjoyed the Aquarium and I ended the day thinking I was pretty much the best mother on the earth. Even better, the kids were super excited about our plan to go to <a href="http://www.skyzone.com/">Sky Zone</a> on Tuesday and I was excited about visiting <a href="http://www.ballarddesigns.com/BallardDesigns/US/CustomerService/Atlanta-Outlet-Weekly-Specials/content-path">Ballard Designs outlet</a> which is conveniently located next to the Roswell Sky Zone. It was a winning plan for all, which is why I was totally bummed when I looked at the Sky Zone Roswell website and saw that it opened at 4 pm. What? I get that when kids are in school, the pool of likely candidates to play trampoline basketball goes way down, but certainly <i>someone</i> can come up with some kind of trampoline exercise for adults. A quick Google search and...oh, of course:<br />
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<a href="http://i1.weltbild.de/asset/vgw/tracy-anderson-total-body-mini-trampolin-workout-071888000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i1.weltbild.de/asset/vgw/tracy-anderson-total-body-mini-trampolin-workout-071888000.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a></div>
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I chose to picture the German version because I think it's kind of funny that it says, "Die Personal Trainerin," which is probably how many people feel after doing trampoline exercise with Gwyneth Paltrow's personal trainer. I'm a little worried, though, that Tracy's shoulders are all jacked-up from getting injured on the trampoline. Her posture looks a little weird, no? But, the point is that Sky Zone has an untapped revenue stream and my Day 2 stacation plans were ruined.<br />
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There is another (inferior) Sky Zone location in Suwanee (not to be confused with Sewanee, Tennessee home of The University of the South, which no southerner ever calls "The University of South," but instead refer to as "Sewanee."), but even that location wasn't open until 4pm. I went to bed feeling defeated and panicked that I didn't have a plan for the following day <i>and</i> I was going to have to break it to three kids who wore their special Sky Zone jumping socks to bed that we couldn't go.<br />
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Well, the news delivery went about as well as I had imagined: yelling, rolling on the floor, and cries of, "it's no fair!" After Sky Zone was off the table, no one wanted to do anything, but I was determined to find something for us to do...whether they liked it or not. Bwahahaha!<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered that a friend of mine had posted on Facebook about doing a scavenger hunt at the historic <a href="http://www.oaklandcemetery.com/about-oakland/">Oakland Cemetery</a>, which is the oldest cemetery in Atlanta and the final resting place to notable Atlantans including Margaret Mitchell and Bobby Jones. I did a little research and figured out that they used something called <a href="http://cluetownbooks.com/">Clue Town</a>. I knew that the kids were too far gone for me to convince them to go to the Cemetery, but as luck would have it, there is a Clue Town for our little city and we could purchase the book at our visitor's center.<br />
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I had to practically drag the kids out the door and throw them into the car to do this "fun" activity. By the time we got to the visitor's center, they were acting a little better, or at least were too self-conscious to scream at me in public. The lady working at the visitor's center was a volunteer and had some trouble locating the book, but the Girl spied it hiding in plain sight in the middle of the most visible display shelf. Too obvious!<br />
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The kids were mostly excited that the clue book came with a compass and a tiny mini golf-sized pencil. Whatever works! We headed off in search of our first location:<br />
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The book has 13 clues and puzzles to solve that lead you from location to location. It took us about an hour to complete the hunt and for the most part, the kids were engaged. The Baby was a little young to figure out the puzzles, but insisted on helping, which is why one of puzzles was filled in thusly:<br />
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Her backwards S's are so consistent that they reminds me of the cutesy purposeful mistakes on the Winnie the Pooh signs at Disney World:<br />
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The Baby also got tired of walking and made me carry her (she's not filled with feathers, I assure you) for a couple of blocks uphill. By the time we finished, we were all hot and tired, plus both the tiny pencil and the compass broke, so it was clearly time to take a break. We went to <a href="http://www.squarepubdecatur.com/">Square Pub</a> to eat lunch, which was great because they have piles of games that you can play while you eat. The Girl picked out <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Apples-Party-Box-Combinations-Edition/dp/B00112CHCK#">Apples to Apples</a>, which was hilarious because, for the most part, the kids had no idea what they were doing. Since the kids had no context for any of the comparisons, I was permanent judge and had to decide, for example, whether Germany in 1945 or Steve Martin is more awkward. (Steve Martin, obviously). Is Puff Daddy or Big Foot more risky? (Puff Daddy, because he's actually real).<br />
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After lunch, we headed to our favorite children's bookstore, <a href="http://www.littleshopofstories.com/">Little Shop of Stories</a>, and the Boy got to use his birthday gift cards to buy books about Minecraft, trivia, and weird inventions. Naturally, the girls had to get books, too. At this point, I reflected that the money I was spending on this cost-saving staycation was not insignificant. Proving the point, five minutes later I was dropping $10 at Butter & Cream, the new ice cream store in town. It's just expensive keeping everyone occupied and happy, especially at home. Next year we save money and go to the beach!<br />
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I think the kids ended up having fun and it was certainly better to get out of our Gloomy Place and do something new. Someday they'll thank me for forcing them to do this kind of thing...right?<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 240px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 198px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 240px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 198px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 240px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 198px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 240px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 198px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><br />
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 2535px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 2535px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-52666804862373381622014-09-23T09:21:00.002-04:002014-09-23T09:24:32.504-04:00Stacation Day 1: Georgia Aquarium<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our school system is on a "balanced" schedule, so last week was fall "break." I'm using quotation marks with both because, last week was not much of a break for me and I was left feeling slightly unbalanced.<i> </i>Unfortunately, we were not able to travel for fall break, so I had to travel vicariously through the pictures my friends posted on Instagram and Facebook. I'll admit to having more than a twinge of jealousy when I scrolled through pictures of various beaches, Alaska, Australia, and France.<br />
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I knew that if I didn't plan something for us to do each day, we'd be in danger of spending the whole week holed up at home with the Boy playing Minecraft, the Baby watching "Bubble Guppies," and the Girl wanting me to work on craft projects with her. Would this have been okay? Oh, probably, but I didn't want them to go back to school and hear all about their friends' fun vacations and have nothing to offer other than, "I made a diamond pick axe in survival mode." We didn't really leave metro Atlanta for any of the activities. Of course, thanks to suburban sprawl, our trip to Kennesaw, Georgia should qualify as a day-trip. But sadly, Kennesaw, Georgia hardly compares with the Palace of Versailles.<br />
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Kennesaw:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.everydaynodaysoff.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Kennesaw-Georgia-Armed-By-Law.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.everydaynodaysoff.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Kennesaw-Georgia-Armed-By-Law.jpg" height="246" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let them <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kennesaw,_Georgia">have guns</a>.</td></tr>
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Palace of Versailles:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Let them eat cake.</td></tr>
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Kennesaw meets Palace of Versailles:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.funchannel.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Gun-Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.funchannel.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Gun-Cake.jpg" height="318" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because what six year old girl doesn't want a birthday<br />
cake decorated with weapons?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope that this is for a paintball party.</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>At the beginning of the week, I came up with an optimistic schedule for our stacation activities:<br />
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<b>Monday - Georgia Aquarium</b><br />
<b>Tuesday - Sky Zone Roswell</b><br />
<b>Wednesday - Atlanta History Center</b><br />
<b>Thursday - Morning with Grammy, Movie Tavern lunch</b><br />
<b>Friday - In-town Day</b><br />
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As you'll see, after Monday, we didn't stick to the schedule at all. But, it seems to make everyone feel better if there's some kind of plan. Maybe it makes the randomness of the world seem less terrifying.<br />
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We started out with the Aquarium because it was the most ambitious destination. The Aquarium is popular, which means that it can be <i>very </i>crowded. I know myself and my little crew and one of the things that we don't go in for is big crowds. Even on a slow day, the Aquarium is pretty busy, so you will probably not be surprised to learn that we haven't visited in three years. Sunday night I went to the <a href="http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/acb/stores/1/category.aspx">Aquarium website and pre-ordered our admission tickets</a>. I opted to get the early-bird special on tickets because we saved $7 per ticket compared to walk-up prices, and all we had to do was get there by 10 am. I assumed that if the Aquarium is offering a special deal to get there early, it is because it's pretty empty at that time, which sounded <i>perfect </i>to me. I also got passes to the Dolphin Tales show because we'd never gone on our prior visits to the Aquarium.<br />
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First off, if you're ever in Atlanta, I would <i>highly</i> recommend the Aquarium. It's the world's largest aquarium and it has some really interesting features. The Ocean Voyager tunnel is probably my favorite, because you really get the sense of being under the ocean:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Georgia_Aquarium_-_Ocean_Voyager_Tunnel_Jan_2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e1/Georgia_Aquarium_-_Ocean_Voyager_Tunnel_Jan_2006.jpg" height="246" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georgia_Aquarium">via</a></td></tr>
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We also enjoyed the Tropical Diver tank:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/news-room/gallery/td/CoralWindow2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/news-room/gallery/td/CoralWindow2.jpg" height="253" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/newsroom/photo-library/td.aspx">via</a></td></tr>
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Randomly, there was a couple who seemed to be taking engagement pictures at the Aquarium. We saw them all over the place, but they spent a lot of time at the Tropical Diver tank, so take note, all you recently-engaged tropical fish enthusiast.<br />
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We also loved the sea otters, who were obediently following a trainer's commands to do all sorts of tricks. If sea otters can be trained to clap their flippers and do an underwater flip, I can't understand why the Dog can't be trained to not chase after every squirrel when she's on a walk. Perhaps I need to incentivize her with raw fish. The beluga tank in the Cold Water Quest area is also cool, and since the tank can be seen from the ballroom, you can actually watch the belugas swim around while you eat your overpriced lunch. Because Cold Water Quest is sponsored by Georgia Pacific, so you learn all sorts of interesting facts like the length of a beluga whale measured in rolls of Quilted Northern toilet paper and how many Dixie cups of water it would take to fill up the beluga's tank. (<i>Spoiler: A shitload.</i>)<br />
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The Georgia Explorer area was closed for renovations and we skipped the 4D movie because the Boy and the Girl said that they remembered it from our last visit and that it was lame. If I recall correctly, the movie featured a clown fish named "Deepo" (the primary Aquarium benefactors are the Marcuses, he being one of the founders of Home <i>Depot</i>) who delivered a somewhat preachy message about being environmental responsibility. I was not sorry to pass up the 4D effects which, regardless of the movie plot, require the audience to get sprinkled with stagnant water and sprayed with cold air.<br />
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The Baby had been moaning for a while that she was about to die from hunger, so I caved and we visited the cafeteria for a quick snack. At this point I should note that we were all searched and wanded with a metal detector upon entering the Aquarium. I thought this was to make sure that we didn't have any weapons, but now I think it was to prevent patrons from smuggling in black-market drinks and snacks for resale. Our bill for four drinks, a bag of Goldfish crackers, two bags of chips, and a hummus and pretzels container was $25. On the way home I spotted a sale sign at a Walgreens on North Avenue that was advertising a 24-pack of Dasani for $3.99. I bought <i>one</i> bottle of Dasani for $3.50 at the Aquarium. Oy! My grandmother who used to swipe ketchup packets from McDonald's because buying a bottle of ketchup is for the rich folks is spinning in her grave at her spendthrift granddaughter.<br />
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After I made sure that the kids finished every last drop of their drinks and ate the crumbs out of the bottom of the snack bags, we headed over to Dolphin Tales to get decent seats. Dolphin Tales is a Disney-esque show, only with a tenuous plot and strange costumes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lifeinthesetimesblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/spin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://lifeinthesetimesblog.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/spin2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think I saw similar costumes in the Captain Feathersword segments<br />
on "The Wiggles." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There was something about a shipwreck, and a dolphin constellation, and a sea monster, but really, the play is just a vehicle to showcase the dolphins, and we all thought the dolphins were pretty impressive. The trainers/performers really seemed to be enjoying themselves and the dolphins appeared to be well-treated and happy. I'm no animal expert, but you didn't get that "Save Me" silent stare from the dolphins that I got from the tigers at the circus and I sometimes get from the apes at the zoo. When the show finished, we opted <i>not</i> to spend the mortgage money on lunch at the Aquarium and ate at home.<br />
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So, don't just take my word for it that the Aquarium is cool. All of the celebrities pictured below have visited the Aquarium and what is more reliable than a celebrity endorsement??!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn04.cdn.justjaredjr.com/wp-content/uploads/headlines/2012/11/jennifer-lawrence-georgia-aquarium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn04.cdn.justjaredjr.com/wp-content/uploads/headlines/2012/11/jennifer-lawrence-georgia-aquarium.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer Lawrence visited while shooting "The Hunger<br />
Games" movies.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogs.ajc.com/the-buzz/files/2011/09/4045749484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://blogs.ajc.com/the-buzz/files/2011/09/4045749484.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elton John, his partner David Furnish and <br />
their shoeless and nonplussed baby, Zachary.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/celebrities/JustinBieber940x447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/celebrities/JustinBieber940x447.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justin Beiber, sad because his wetsuit was full-body and didn't come in<br />
size XXL.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2-1.timeinc.net/people/i/2012/pets/news/121001/jennifer-lopez-600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img2-1.timeinc.net/people/i/2012/pets/news/121001/jennifer-lopez-600.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer Lopez took her kids, Max and Emme (named for the <br />
"<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_Tales">Dragon Tales</a>" characters) to the Aquarium. Interesting that<br />
the twins are clinging to the people to whom they are not related. <br />
Speaking of the "Save Me" silent stare...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And the biggest stars OF ALL:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/celebrities/badgirlsclub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://www.georgiaaquarium.org/media/images/celebrities/badgirlsclub.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmmmm. Bethenny Frankle going heavy on the eyeliner and a stretched out Kathryn Heigl? <br />
Wrong! It's world-famous stars Aimee and Zara of the Bad Girls' Club. <br />
Yeah, me either. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You know what kills me about these celebrities? I bet they got the Aquarium comped their food.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5105px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 152px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 5105px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-47261760689396607692014-09-03T12:42:00.000-04:002014-09-03T12:42:01.013-04:00Hello Kitty is not a Cat and Other DeceptionsYears from now, I'll tell my children that I remember exactly where I was when I heard the startling news that Hello Kitty is not really <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/arts/miranda/la-et-cam-hello-kitty-in-los-angeles-not-a-cat-20140826-column.html#page=1">a cat</a>. Of course, I'll say I was reading on a G-rated website and not<a href="http://www.dlisted.com/"> Dlisted</a>, which is my new favorite thing in the entire world, other than Mom's new dog, Hello Puppy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDawXDLG0dXDBWNE2aFxptzQkJKF_jkUTUG_90y83RuwER1onIGdG0X2UafQX5SWLmhIpicCxN8Dy0Peid4H49oLIaczLpXhrNK38uJsh6CCp9CvcU6yFXq23s8WSMMfGAjWsfJ4mT4wLt/s1600/IMG_3208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDawXDLG0dXDBWNE2aFxptzQkJKF_jkUTUG_90y83RuwER1onIGdG0X2UafQX5SWLmhIpicCxN8Dy0Peid4H49oLIaczLpXhrNK38uJsh6CCp9CvcU6yFXq23s8WSMMfGAjWsfJ4mT4wLt/s1600/IMG_3208.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture is your reward for reading this long, boring post.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But, now that I know that Hello Kitty is not a cat, I'm wondering about Hello Puppy. Maybe he's not a dog at all, but really a perpetual 3rd grader named Puppy White who lives in a London suburb with his parents, George and Mary. I'm sure that Mom is just imagining him peeing on the rugs and chewing the furniture legs because he's really in London asking his mate for proper DI-rections to the loo and noshing on some black pudding.<br />
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In all seriousness, there is a brilliant lesson in the Hello Kitty story, which is that things are not always as they seem. For example, when I wear yoga pants and flip-flops you might think that I'd just practiced Bikram yoga and executed a flawless <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/468">crow pose</a>. The truth is likely that I've just been to physical therapy where I had needles inserted into my back. <i>(Also, I could never do Bikram yoga after reading <a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/society/2014/01/bikram-choudhury-yoga-sexual-harassment">this article</a>. This wasn't a big sacrifice as I never considered doing Bikram yoga prior to reading the article. Just like it's easy for me to not go to Hobby Lobby because Michaels is closer and I already know where to find everything.)</i><br />
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<a name='more'></a>You may have been wondering what I've been up to for the last three months since I haven't been posting. <i>Or not, that's fine. </i>The truth is that while I posted pretty pictures on Instagram and Facebook of my vacation in Maine, at that point, I was unable to do much more typing than just a few hash-tagged lines because my fingers had gone completely numb. I was totally pulling a Hello Kitty - looking like one thing, but really being something totally different. While I try not to be one of those Facebook friends who just posts about my fabulous moments, I also don't feel comfortable spilling out <i>all</i> of my personal problems online. I mean, no one likes a Facebook bragger or humble-bragger, but the pity attention trolls aren't great either. Also, I've carefully cultivated on online persona who is funny and self-depricating, not one who complains about her aches and pains.<br />
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I'm writing now because I've gotten better (and am not looking for pity attention) and I want to make an online record of my experience just in case someone else has the same bizarro symptoms that I had. In May, I started waking in the middle of the night with my upper back and shoulder muscles in a crazy spasm. I guessed that it was stress-related and that it would go away after school ended. <i>(Because obviously I'd be less stressed when I had to entertain the children 14 hours a day)</i>. By June the spasms were still happening and I noticed that when I woke up from a spasm my hands would be numb. Surely, I irrationally thought, this will go away on its own. You will be <i>shocked</i> to know that it did not. In fact, it got worse. One night when we were in Maine on vacation, I woke up and my arms were so numb that I quietly pulled out the iPad with my teeth and typed a Google search with my nose: 'What is wrong with me?' <i>(Answer: Admitting you have a problem is the first step.) </i>This turned out to be the best advice I'd ever received from Google because, indeed, I decided that I had to get some help. <i>Aside: If you have numb hands and upper back spasms DO NOT Google these symptoms because you'll be convinced that you have any one of a variety of unpleasant diseases. </i><br />
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Since my problem seemed to be muscular and we were on vacation, so going to a doctor would be tough, I booked a massage. When the masseuse finished my 90-minute massage she asked, "what happened to you?" in an awe-filed voice like maybe I'd just gotten back from a trip to Tibet where I'd been forced to sherpa for the Kardashian's new show "Khloe and Kim Take Everest." Sadly, all I could come up with was, "I have three kids."<br />
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When we got home, I booked another massage and made a doctor's appointment with my GP. I went to the doctor hoping that if I explained that stress was causing my back to seize, that he'd prescribe me some happy pills and I'd be on my way. Naturally, that didn't happen. He pulled out an anatomy book and pointed out a picture of a skinless human with the spinal column and nerves exposed and said that he thought I'd ruptured a disc and that it was resting on the nerves which was causing the numbness. "Would that cause the spasming?" I asked. He wavered for a second and then stuck to his guns. "Absolutely." He told me that I needed an MRI immediately because the nerves could be permanently damaged if the numbness persisted for too long. So, instead of getting some happy pills to make me less stressed, I left with the threat of permanent nerve damage hanging over me.<br />
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Naturally because time was of the essence, I had to wait a week for an MRI appointment. In the meantime, I had another massage and even tried acupuncture, because why the hell not? I have no idea if acupuncture works, but I liked the acupuncturist because, in contrast to the medical doctor, he actually listened to me and gave me some neck and back exercises which made me feel like I was doing <i>something</i> other than waiting around to be bombarded with radiation. I had my MRI on a Friday afternoon and sprung for a $5.00 copy of my MRI pictures to take home. Christmas card pictures! I watched an instructional YouTube video on how to read an MRI several times until I was confident that I knew as much as a radiologist. I scrutinized my MRI pictures and was fairly confident that I did not have any ruptured discs in my neck or upper back.<br />
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I called the GP on Monday morning so that he could be on the lookout for the radiology report. By lunchtime the doctor called to tell me that he had looked at my MRI and that I had a ruptured disc. It was lower than he expected, but, he assured me that was certainly the cause of all of my symptoms. <i>So much for my YouTube MRI tutorial. </i>He gave me three options: He could refer me to a spinal surgeon, he could refer me to a spine doctor who specialized in alternative therapies, or he could refer me to a physical therapist. Since spinal surgery does not sound like fun, but a ruptured disc sounds like <i>something</i> you should see a specialist about, I went with option two.<br />
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Again, with time being of the essence, the first available appointment with the spine doctor was in almost two weeks. The day of my appointment with the spine doctor finally arrived and I was immediately impressed with the efficiency of the office. I gave the nurse my copy of the CD with the MRI images and she accessed the radiologist's report (something, I realized that my original doctor must not have had when he told me that I had a ruptured disc). When the spine doctor came into the exam room, the first thing he said to me, before even "hello" was, "why are you here?" I was a little taken aback, because he's a spine doctor, so it seemed <i>obvious</i> that I was there for my spine. "Um, my doctor told me that I have a ruptured disc in my spine, and..." He interrupted me, "your spine is completely healthy and stable. Why do you think there's something wrong?" I explained my symptoms while he ran me through a series of mobility tests. "You have a muscular issue," he scribbled on a pad. "Physical therapy. You having problems sleeping?" I nodded. "Here's a prescription for muscle relaxant." I was in and out of the exam room in less than seven minutes. We just got the bill, for an "extended examination." It was $410.00.<br />
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Even though the doctor clearly couldn't wait to get rid of me and my stable spine, I felt vindicated that I totally learned how to read an MRI better than my GP just by watching a YouTube video. Plus, getting the script for muscle relaxant cheered me up because it reminded me of the wedding scene in "Sixteen Candles:"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp05jaoGIzeqg8ybdAUuNCyXmu5LnU2Y4hUrQfbuYWrs4M1q1cJpgaDYdNYNqJt0Zhy09oDzTzXGXANI3GfFzYw2DW8n_WL5mCVhfTTqGzfsiJJ1pp4QqD6mZ8NePjQdCKyBm_eoraLlp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-02+at+1.19.39+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp05jaoGIzeqg8ybdAUuNCyXmu5LnU2Y4hUrQfbuYWrs4M1q1cJpgaDYdNYNqJt0Zhy09oDzTzXGXANI3GfFzYw2DW8n_WL5mCVhfTTqGzfsiJJ1pp4QqD6mZ8NePjQdCKyBm_eoraLlp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-02+at+1.19.39+PM.png" height="256" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Speaking of muscle relaxants and other things that put you to sleep, doesn't Blanche Baker (the bride, above) look like drowsy singer Lana Del Rey?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwwLA1TtLMgUYPts4JWRfIqwpfp9ueoOPDI3PCkLwf5TAgPXcBdq7_sUJSaqnzknIMTEKcrjK3du_02PO5bPfJwkb6J7u0kI89ssUZG9CMuI7q6YngFIdXJO6QHDXaDcjx-bXAU-a357Y/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-02+at+1.28.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwwLA1TtLMgUYPts4JWRfIqwpfp9ueoOPDI3PCkLwf5TAgPXcBdq7_sUJSaqnzknIMTEKcrjK3du_02PO5bPfJwkb6J7u0kI89ssUZG9CMuI7q6YngFIdXJO6QHDXaDcjx-bXAU-a357Y/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-09-02+at+1.28.01+PM.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></div>
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My first visit to physical therapy was not helpful. The therapist had me lie on my back on a big foam roller and hold out my arms like I was signaling unsportsmanlike conduct or being crucified (which is the height of unsportsmanlike conduct.) Then I moved my arms into the "touchdown" position. He seemed to think that the problem was a combination of tight pec muscles (clearly from all the bench pressing I'm doing) and upper back muscles due to a combination of stress and my crappy posture. It turns out that you <i>should</i> sit up straight just like your mother told you. I am still not sure whether this diagnosis is correct, but it sounds more plausible than the disc theory. I do have a gift for finding new and creative ways for emotional stress to manifest in a physical manner.<br />
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When I went back the second week, I told him that I didn't feel any better. So, he asked how I was with needles. "Love them!" I said and showed him my track marks. Actually, I said I was okay with needles, it was the pain when they're stuck into me that I wasn't crazy about. He said that he wanted to try <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dry_needling">dry needling</a> to release the tension in my muscles. In case you don't want to read the Wikipedia entry on dry needling, the down and dirty is that the therapist sticks a needle into the first layer of muscle in a tight spot and it spams for a while and then relaxes. Once the first layer is relaxed, the needle is pushed deeper and the process is repeated. It's called "dry" needling because while hypodermic needles are used, no medicine is actually injected. According to Wikipedia, this shouldn't hurt if done by a skilled therapist. Well, I guess mine got his training from the dry needling correspondence course because it hurt like <i>hell</i>. After he finished and I was a quivering mess, he put these pulsing electrode things on my back and draped a heating pad over my shoulders and left me for 20 minutes in the dark. I was so exhausted by the whole experience that I went to sleep. I woke up and was <i>thrilled</i> to see that I had a quarter-sized bruise in my upper chest where he tried to release the muscles in my pecs.<br />
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Because the whole thing was kind of horrible, I was reluctant to admit that it actually worked. I could actually sleep. My hands weren't numb and I didn't feel like I was carrying a cinderblock around between my shoulder blades. The next time I went, we went through the whole needling thing <i>again</i>, but this time I <i>knew</i> what to expect, so it was even worse.<br />
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Obviously, I must be on the road to recovery because I was able to type this ridiculously long discussion of my medical problems, which was probably exceedingly boring to 98% of readers. My apologies, but I'm not writing this for you anyway. I'm writing it for the 1.5% who have a weird illness or condition and bounce from doctor to doctor receiving conflicting diagnoses and dismissive treatment. Being sick sucks and trying to coordinate doctors appointments when you don't feel well is really difficult. Throw taking care of kids or a job in there and it's easy to see why people get discouraged and want to give up. I'm also writing this for the remaining .5% of people who actually might share my symptoms. My suggestions for those people are that you need the following: 1. If your back starts to spasm, don't be an idiot like I was. Get help right away. 2. Find a doctor who will give you a PT referral and a prescription for muscle relaxants. 2. Look for a really good massage therapist. Go as often as you can afford. 3. When you get to PT, don't let the therapist mess around with exercises. Ask for dry needling right away. Good luck. And sit up straight. Your mother and your back will thank you.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 108px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 108px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 108px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 108px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-58152788978264874682014-06-26T11:53:00.001-04:002014-06-26T11:54:47.550-04:00Father's Day - The YETI CoolerOkay, so it's a little late to be posting about Father's Day, but I don't seem to be able to do anything on time these days. I think I need this:<br />
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<a href="http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0315/2625/products/sorry_late_womens_white.png?v=1394477239" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0315/2625/products/sorry_late_womens_white.png?v=1394477239" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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You know if you search "Sorry I'm Late shirts" in Google images you get images of people who have taken the time to style their Sorry I'm Late shirts, i.e.:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am late because I left my shoes in a wooded area and couldn't find them.</td></tr>
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When you take the time to style your Sorry I'm Late shirt and make an entire Sorry I'm Late ensemble (and then take a picture), it probably explains why you are late.</div>
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The creator of this ensemble had another issue:</div>
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<a href="http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/igjz96-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/igjz96-l.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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in that she had to time travel back to 1995 to create her outfit. I mean, I can't tell the scale of that backpack, but I'm pretty sure it's one of those tiny backpacks that was all the rage in the mid 90's. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0134247/">Felicity</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Bunton">Baby Spice</a> wore them and they were perfectly balanced by four inch-high platform sandals. I recently saw a picture of Miley Cyrus toting a tiny backpack, which means she's ruined <i>both</i> <a href="http://blog.sfgate.com/dailydish/2013/10/14/miley-cyrus-dancer-i-felt-degraded-in-teddy-bear-costume/">teddy bears</a> and tiny backpacks forever. </div>
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Obviously, you all can tell that I'm late with my Father's Day post because I got "busy" Googling, "Sorry I'm Late shirts" and looking up pictures of 1990's celebrities wearing tiny backpacks. </div>
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So, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, Father's Day. The K usually does something like going to REI over Memorial Day weekend and coming home with a $1500 bike and then saying, "Oh, I already got my Father's Day gift." Well, good for him I guess, because there's absolutely no way <i>I'd</i> ever get him a $1500 bike for Father's Day. Number one, I'm way too cheap. He's lucky if I get him a full-price Vineyard Vines shirt for Christmas. Number two, I don't know anything about the K's hobbies, so I can't go to the store and spit out a bunch of technical bike talk and come home with what he wants. If it were left to me, he'd end up with a bike like this:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/716plFkfB+L._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/716plFkfB+L._SL1500_.jpg" height="313" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pinkalicious-Victoria-Kann/dp/0060776390/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403791713&sr=1-2&keywords=pinkalicious+books">Pinkalicious</a> bike. This pisses me off. The amount of money that those sisters<br />
have made on their rip-off of "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Chocolate-Fever-Robert-Kimmel-Smith/dp/0142405957">Chocolate Fever</a>" is just obscene. Okay, the training<br />
wheels are kind of cute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm sure y'all know what I mean. If the K wanted some fishing gear, he'd have to get it himself because I'd just get him a gift certificate to Whole Foods so he could buy some fish. This year, however, the stars aligned and I actually managed to come up with something that the K wanted and that wasn't too complicated for me to purchase on my own. The K casually mentioned that it would be great to have a better cooler for baseball tournament weekends. Then, my friend E got her husband a <a href="http://www.yeticooler.com/">YETI Cooler</a> for their anniversary and raved about how it keeps ice, well, icy for <i>days</i>. The final piece of the puzzle came together when E told me that I could buy a YETI at <a href="http://intownhardware.net/sb.cn">The Coolest Ace on the Planet</a> aka Intown Ace Hardware, which is less than a mile from our house. Jackpot!<br />
<br />
Just in case you're not familiar with the YETI, it's like the Rolls-Royce of coolers. I guess we have premium beer and premium water, it was only a matter of time until someone invented a premium cooler to keep them cold. (Coming soon: premium ice.) From the YETI website, the target consumers of the coolers are fishermen (you can stand on it to cast...whatever that means) and hunters (they're grizzly proof). And the YETI website features testimonials from YETI "ambassadors" who are famous hunters and fishermen who endorse their products. I've never heard of any of the famous outdoors men and women, but they look incredibly bad-ass posing with a variety of animals and fish that they've killed. Since I nearly fainted when I had to <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2014/06/throw-tiger-in-whirlpool-why-i-love-our.html">get rid of a dead rat</a>, you can be sure that if we have an apocalypse I'll be trying to make my way to a YETI ambassador so I won't starve.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.calranch.com/media/brand_images/101-brand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.calranch.com/media/brand_images/101-brand.jpg" height="120" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Duck Dynasty" guys aren't ambassadors, either because they're too<br />
controversial or because their endorsements are too ambiguous.<br />
I mean, what kind of boot are we talking about? Because the 1990's boots in<br />
the second Sorry I'm Late style board don't really scream "tough."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The flaw in my plan came when the kids and I stopped by Ace to check out the YETI in person and I saw the price. Briefly I thought that it would probably be cheaper to buy an iceberg and have it towed to our backyard to have a constant supply of ice at our disposal. But, then I remembered that the K's last Father's Day gift was tickets for the entire family to see a Braves game. Despite whatever I posted on Facebook that made it look like we were having fun, the Baby started whining, "want to go home," five minutes after we arrived, then it started raining, and we lasted four innings before the K's nerves couldn't take the whining and the rain and we all left. <i>Then</i>, the K took a wrong turn on the way home and we ended up on I-20W and practically drove to Birmingham. I can't remember what I dropped on the Braves tickets, but it was probably comparable to the price of the YETI, and I couldn't see how buying the YETI would result in a familial breakdown and a drive to Alabama.<br />
<br />
I was a little unsure of what size of the YETI to buy, but the website had this helpful guide:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8cdqZoUXDSIzwnmhOeQQ_LGePPT-_4ZRoNcjwNi-ai76lyFFrYIWmLDZ4MHdEDzpXM1nk7Py3rSVq9mKKr7oBi-UenASMDrNVgXKXNMD_Y1ayQ8Rj7pACLxCa0x1j-b_HaMYvEmfDtzc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-26+at+11.02.50+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8cdqZoUXDSIzwnmhOeQQ_LGePPT-_4ZRoNcjwNi-ai76lyFFrYIWmLDZ4MHdEDzpXM1nk7Py3rSVq9mKKr7oBi-UenASMDrNVgXKXNMD_Y1ayQ8Rj7pACLxCa0x1j-b_HaMYvEmfDtzc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-26+at+11.02.50+AM.png" height="232" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What'd you do this summer, Tanner?" "Not much, Bro. Just did some YETI cooler modeling." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Along with weighing in at 180, I can also tell you that Tanner must be working on his triceps dips because along with being tough as a boot, the YETI is heavy as a boot...full of a thousand little boots made of lead. We went with the 50 because it seemed like a good compromise between the little guy (called the Roadie, open container laws be damned) and the big one which looks like a coffin.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.swampbuggiesfl.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/250-qt-yeti-cooler-lg-300x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.swampbuggiesfl.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/250-qt-yeti-cooler-lg-300x225.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or a bed. I hope.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The 50 also seemed like the biggest one that I could carry before it was filled with ice. After it's filled I might be able to drag it a few inches, but then one of the YETI ambassadors or Tanner would have to carry it for me. </div>
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The YETI comes in three colors: white, blue, and tan. Ace only had the 50 in tan in stock, but Tony at Ace said he'd be happy to order another color if the K wasn't happy with the tan. The K decided to keep the tan because for our primary use (Georgia baseball games), the K thought the tan would look the best stained with red clay. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjYYd8IfHMpuZjAHsAlBb8n1ZE7oMN9YcczQn9AMPmkctka4_FLUUdYdCr6MjTWkaOeXyhBjnU5mY-M_r300N5IQff6YXCWnlz9KYmBFm6wCWcKVShO-3d-Y68CjuAiwhxSXX5C3UXf5v/s1600/IMG_2957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjYYd8IfHMpuZjAHsAlBb8n1ZE7oMN9YcczQn9AMPmkctka4_FLUUdYdCr6MjTWkaOeXyhBjnU5mY-M_r300N5IQff6YXCWnlz9KYmBFm6wCWcKVShO-3d-Y68CjuAiwhxSXX5C3UXf5v/s1600/IMG_2957.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big reveal!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The K was very pleased with the YETI and I can attest to its ability to keep ice solid for a really long time. Here's a picture of some ice that the YETI kept cold for <i>five</i> days.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p2y5H-oaqJCLBkgoUmMMez8q6i66rGfVGNw2HCyudkuUNIpRQBXc0lqg9Ni6trlQUah85vDvHjMue2QvBrwhHWPqp-7-qrnLNrjyTtAf6qvfAJ-OKDCGyssfhKYeNDJFupA5xVZ6CNPx/s1600/IMG_2989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p2y5H-oaqJCLBkgoUmMMez8q6i66rGfVGNw2HCyudkuUNIpRQBXc0lqg9Ni6trlQUah85vDvHjMue2QvBrwhHWPqp-7-qrnLNrjyTtAf6qvfAJ-OKDCGyssfhKYeNDJFupA5xVZ6CNPx/s1600/IMG_2989.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Five day old ice kept cool in the YETI.</td></tr>
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Really, the only bad news about the YETI, other than the price, is that it is so big that its current home is our family room because we don't have anywhere else to put it. But, trying to look at the bright side, the truth is that we could use some extra seating in the family room and since the YETI costs as much as the set of chairs I've had my eye on, it really all works out. Obviously, if you can stand on it to fish, it's sturdy enough to sit on while watching HGTV. I'm pretty sure that we're going to be the next YETI ambassadors. Who better to testify to the YETI's ability to keep Capri Suns cold at little league baseball tournaments, while still being comfortable enough to lounge on while watching, "House Hunters?" I'll dress in my best camouflage ballet flats for the photo.</div>
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 4039px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 203px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 4039px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-32671997540433396192014-06-11T10:27:00.001-04:002014-06-11T10:27:26.314-04:00Throw the Tiger in the Whirlpool: Why I love our á la Carte Chore BoardI have not been very good about giving the children an allowance for doing daily chores. I started a few times but got tired of nagging them to do the chores, and instead of leaving their chores un-done so they could bear witness to their slovenly ways, I'd succumb to my mild OCD and make their beds and clean up their messes. Sometimes, I would pay them even though they hadn't actually completed the chores which taught them nothing about getting paid for working, but instead primed them for a future as county road crew workers. We've always ended up back in the same place, scrapping the allowance and me doing everything.<br />
<br />
Recently, I took a different approach, one that gave the kids the option of earning money on a per-chore basis. I think that when I've finished telling you all about the how this system has worked, you'll agree that it's vastly superior than just giving a straight allowance. I made a chore board where I post different chores that I would like the children to perform and assign each chore a monetary value. So, making your bed gets you .25 and taking out the garbage is .75. Value is determined by frequency, grossness, and duration of a given chore. This valuation system is no different from society where long-haul commercial fisherman earn more than Justin Beiber. Oh wait, no. Clearly my value system needs some tweaking to put it in line with American society. Five cents for scrubbing the toilet and ten million dollars for making up <a href="http://www.mtv.com/news/1840086/justin-bieber-recover-racist-video-controversy-experts/">racist song lyrics</a>. Better now. Anyway, here are some (as yet unperformed) tasks on our chore board:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKdbemOrdREAyipZg0Meo0SDz4l2NlD7jE8i0iNKgYAttx-EahcYAj1gwpHOvWeezdbTjwuzojN0xnO2rtBRmQINsz-wmQbiGkWUzaf33GWTSPdz80cFIDOGoGU1YpWBOzkS4jeUlnHWR/s1600/IMG_2939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKdbemOrdREAyipZg0Meo0SDz4l2NlD7jE8i0iNKgYAttx-EahcYAj1gwpHOvWeezdbTjwuzojN0xnO2rtBRmQINsz-wmQbiGkWUzaf33GWTSPdz80cFIDOGoGU1YpWBOzkS4jeUlnHWR/s1600/IMG_2939.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
This way the kids are earning money only for the work they've actually done (novel concept, I know). I wish I'd thought of this years ago because <i>I </i>would be a freaking millionaire.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>You'll notice that I helpfully included pictures of the chores so that the Baby (who "can read a little bit. Little words like if and it") would be able to participate in the fun. The problem, of course, is that I am not very artistic and the Baby interpreted this card:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnD2YQiLZXwqFVzgRJRbiQmwu1Mh3TrXg4CDF499s8k-Ll7gCJYgT_KVmO_zib-HTe0WQkleYVfpj5Wk1cRgo6Y9vVKQkTgks2CnNFI3LSI9T6DAKcuiY4NnSJhYDkEWwDCzCVxhLO56G/s1600/IMG_2940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnD2YQiLZXwqFVzgRJRbiQmwu1Mh3TrXg4CDF499s8k-Ll7gCJYgT_KVmO_zib-HTe0WQkleYVfpj5Wk1cRgo6Y9vVKQkTgks2CnNFI3LSI9T6DAKcuiY4NnSJhYDkEWwDCzCVxhLO56G/s1600/IMG_2940.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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to mean that she should throw the tiger in a whirlpool. "What tiger?" I asked. "I don't know," she wailed. "I'm afraid of tigers. I don't want to throw it in the whirlpool." I'll give her that the leash is hard to identify, mostly because the Dog's leash is never neatly coiled like the one in the picture. It's typically hanging halfway off one of the kitchen stools. But, that animal is clearly a dog (or maybe a fox) but definitely not a tiger.<br />
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Then, I was like, "Well, if you're so great at drawing, maybe you'd like to make a card." So she did:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstsS-cZBMd1lHhkhOgapVK75OrO0yjhu2uD4NQBCxyaheraRNxj4tvDrBlisM_Yezw0i-omIZykvJscazXgHhTnXF5Fq16YnzG_Dmt3SIQSZqHFGdSF00PQt3aMWJkkiEnfeHx3SAawb8/s1600/IMG_2941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstsS-cZBMd1lHhkhOgapVK75OrO0yjhu2uD4NQBCxyaheraRNxj4tvDrBlisM_Yezw0i-omIZykvJscazXgHhTnXF5Fq16YnzG_Dmt3SIQSZqHFGdSF00PQt3aMWJkkiEnfeHx3SAawb8/s1600/IMG_2941.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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If I didn't know that is supposed to be a toilet, I'd wonder why she was offering a dollar for someone to fix a limbless torso's umbilical hernia. But, since I know it's a toilet, I'm just hoping that the black spot in the center of the toilet is the hole that sucks down all the waste water and not a floater.<br />
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Some of my chore requests have been unique to problems that I've noticed around the house:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGOz6Az9L74Fo14V7rugVJ_hnnjadPJc0zj99lB9_GmUG-BAPNA3yX_-WhzgwB3Ev63Lpog21Llq2IqGSDnkOBI4ZmC8-oK6tl6oZWgUNl0iQn0lHtea8N4C2qW9fXdSaLW-7iWA5705V/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGOz6Az9L74Fo14V7rugVJ_hnnjadPJc0zj99lB9_GmUG-BAPNA3yX_-WhzgwB3Ev63Lpog21Llq2IqGSDnkOBI4ZmC8-oK6tl6oZWgUNl0iQn0lHtea8N4C2qW9fXdSaLW-7iWA5705V/s1600/IMG_2937.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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I'd wager that very few people have offered their children cash money to clean pollen and chalk off the front door. It's a stinging indictment of my housekeeping "skills" that pollen season is in early April and it took until the end of May for me to get around to thinking about cleaning pollen off the door, a task that can be easily accomplished in two minutes. Even as I painstakingly drew this mediocre picture I thought to myself, "in the time that it's taken you to write this all out, you could have totally cleaned the front door."<br />
<br />
No system is perfect, and it has backfired a couple of times when the "help" I received was more helpful in theory than in fact. The Girl "helped" me clean out the pantry by spilling the contents of the two-story spice carousel all over the floor. While she was vacuuming up a pile of paprika she asked if she got paid the going rate of $1.50 for vacuuming. I said hell no, because I went to law school and know a slippery slope when I see it. Next thing you know, the kids will be throwing shit everywhere and offering to clean it up...for a price.<br />
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Yesterday, I was upstairs folding laundry (at .75 a load, the kids took a pass on that chore, but I'll be trading in the swagger wagon for a Tesla any day now), and the Girl called from downstairs. "Mom, there's something in the backyard that you need to see." Immediately, I thought that the Dog had finally succeeded in digging her way to China and was sitting in the backyard eating a big plate of Mu Shu Pork. I should be so lucky. "Is it bad?" I asked. "You won't like it," she said. "There's a dead squirrel in the yard." I made my disgusted face, which looks like <a href="http://www.grumpycats.com/">Grumpy Cat</a>, but without fur and my tongue sticking out. I peered out our back door and could see a small grey lump in the grass.<br />
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Before I actually went outside, I did what anyone with a problem does these days: I begged for help on the Internet:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5PWMTP4cfYUS_MxLWoUb0IXxYr7HeMrfMCCc1Y9TUK0EypBeLi7Xah7A1Gq4cawUJ0ChR76jwgiWmaEv-9HsLGX2uiymwBBoVVAbmSlC5amrUsEgyU_w6QNTKkqWXLeTQHNIdD2Cw3Tq/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-10+at+9.32.14+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5PWMTP4cfYUS_MxLWoUb0IXxYr7HeMrfMCCc1Y9TUK0EypBeLi7Xah7A1Gq4cawUJ0ChR76jwgiWmaEv-9HsLGX2uiymwBBoVVAbmSlC5amrUsEgyU_w6QNTKkqWXLeTQHNIdD2Cw3Tq/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-10+at+9.32.14+PM.jpg" height="400" width="347" /></a></div>
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Armed with helpful advice, I bravely went outside to assess the carcass. Much to my horror, the "squirrel" was not a squirrel at all, but a squirrel-sized rat. You know how Indiana Jones hates snakes? That's me with rats. You're sitting there thinking, it's a dead rodent, who cares whether it has a fluffy squirrel tail or a skinny rat tail? Me, totally! Squirrels are out in the open, running up and down trees and playing chicken in the street. Rats are in the shadows like that secret Internet where you can hire contract killers and buy child pornography. Thus, in my mind rats=pedophile assassins.<br />
<br />
So, I marched back inside and made a new chore card:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZq0iosQ8nhz-vLE7poE8enD-R3K0OtuKpdbdWXVndwhMcHQShbAefuceteTnmaNs1vuxN-NdI5x8WxlHikEZG5by1D0cx20GVZzPDTm956Mu_MrfjMoMlVmT2vbdpJgqvw803rtLLEzry/s1600/IMG_2938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZq0iosQ8nhz-vLE7poE8enD-R3K0OtuKpdbdWXVndwhMcHQShbAefuceteTnmaNs1vuxN-NdI5x8WxlHikEZG5by1D0cx20GVZzPDTm956Mu_MrfjMoMlVmT2vbdpJgqvw803rtLLEzry/s1600/IMG_2938.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Because my children are basically mercenaries, they were all on board (after the Baby asked why I wanted to give a flower stem to a vomiting opossum). Armed with a shovel and a garbage bag, we carefully approached the rat. I was totally expecting it to spring to life like Glenn Close did in <i>Fatal Attraction</i>, but the flies swarming all over the body made it clear that it was pretty dead. Gag. The Boy held a garbage bag open as I shoveled the corpse inside. Of course, as soon as the body thumped into the bag, the Boy dropped it like a bad habit and ran away. But we got it in there on one try, which was pretty miraculous considering I literally did it with my eyes closed.<br />
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So, go ahead and scour Pinterest for allowance and chore methods dreamed up by perky moms who named their six kids after counties in Colorado. But be careful. Don't get drawn in by their fancy fonts and graphics. Just ask yourself, "how will this system work if I need help fencing stolen goods, or laundering money, or cleaning up a rat body in my back yard?" Because when the rubber meets the road, do you really want your kid to be like, "sorry, not in my job description" and leave you holding the bag (or holding the shovel without anyone to help hold the bag)? Of course not. You want the option to <strike>bribe</strike> monetarily encourage their cooperation. This is real life where rats look like this:<br />
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<a href="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120424134150/vampirewars/images/a/a3/Sewer_Rats_Stampede_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120424134150/vampirewars/images/a/a3/Sewer_Rats_Stampede_large.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Not this:<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-56636771299690914412014-05-27T14:09:00.001-04:002014-05-27T14:19:39.895-04:00Happy Campers Remember back when camps were basically all the same? The camp had some name that evoked nature; Camp Porcupine Mountain, Camp Lake Vulture, Camp Meadow Chrysanthemum; or it had some faux-Indian name that the owners had to change in the 1990's (yes, summer camps are <a href="http://www.cbssports.com/nfl/eye-on-football/24569759/senators-sign-a-letter-asking-nfl-to-change-redskins-nickname">more progressive</a> than the NFL). And the activities at these camps were all basically the same: swimming, weaving lanyards, singing campfire songs, eating s'mores, drinking bug juice, and trying to eavesdrop on the counselor's conversations.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://greginhollywood.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/nixon_2_060925_560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://greginhollywood.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/nixon_2_060925_560.jpg" height="271" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember this classic summer camp movie? <br />
"Little Darlings," starred Tatum O'Neal (left, front row) and Kristy McNichol<br />
(right, front row). Believe it or not, that's Cynthia Nixon (Miranda from SITC)<br />
next to Kristy. Another bit of trivia: Matt Dillon played Kristy's love interest. <br />
I was waaaay too young to understand the plot when I watched<br />
this on video at a friend's birthday party. </td></tr>
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Now there are all of these camps where children can explore their most arcane and specialized interests. When I was making our camp plans for the summer, I was floored by all the options. Here are a few camps that didn't quite make the cut for us:<br />
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1. <b>Junior Exterminator Camp</b> - Junior Exterminator camp provide the opportunity for kids to learn about animals in their natural habitats! Enjoy up-close animal encounters with roof rats, squirrels, possums, mice, and raccoons! New for 2014: Campers will love exploring our simulated attics, basements, chimneys, and crawl spaces and hunting for their favorite rodents. Camp mascot Billy the Bat will be giving out our fun, "I <i>literally killed</i> at Junior Exterminator Camp" shirts to the campers \with the most captures. Please make sure your camper is up to date on all of his or her vaccinations and sign up for Junior Exterminator Camp today!</div>
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<a name='more'></a>2. <b>Bridge Camp</b> - The most dynamic card game of the 1950s and 60s is back and boss as ever! Hold on to your pillbox hat because this camp will be one non-stop crazy bash. Counselors have been recruited from Heavenly Acres Retirement Home and they are cranked to teach campers how to lead with their best suit! Campers won't want to miss Skyping with Omar Sharif, movie star, turned <a href="https://newenglandpeddler.com/omar-sharif-bridge/">bridge mogul</a>. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://newenglandpeddler.com/wp-content/themes/shopperpress/thumbs/Omar-Sharif-Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://newenglandpeddler.com/wp-content/themes/shopperpress/thumbs/Omar-Sharif-Bridge.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who knew that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omar_Sharif">Omar Sharif</a> was a contract bridge<br />
player and formed the Omar Sharif Bridge<br />
Circus in the 1960's? Don't say you never<br />
learned anything here. </td></tr>
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3. <b>Oversharing Narcissism Camp</b> - Finally there's a camp all about your favorite subject...you! Campers love our special selfie room, where they can admire themselves in the 360 degree mirror to determine their picture-perfect best selfie angles! Counselors discuss which topics should be strictly private and off-limits to discuss on-line... JK! <i>Nothing</i> is too private to write about on the Internets because, you are helping <i>others</i> when you discuss intimate details of your life. For instance, sharing how <a href="http://unveiledwife.com/about/">facial cleanser wrecked your love life</a> could save a marriage because some woman out there might have the same bizarre (some would say unbelievable) reaction to parabens that you have. But enough about that lady, let's talk about you and how this camp is perfect for you because you are awesome and have awesome ideas and experiences that you should share with everyone because how else will everyone know how awesome you are if you don't share your brilliance?! An exciting edition to Camp curriculum, you will learn the fine art of the <a href="http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052748704570704576275320082913808">humblebrag</a> so only you will know how narcissistic you really are! Your secret is safe with you! ;-)</div>
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4. <b>Space Barista Camp</b> - We are preparing today's campers for jobs that haven't even been invented yet. Space colonies are a foregone conclusion because of climate change, and workers with specialized knowledge will be in high demand in the colonies. Secure your child's future now, with a summer at Space Barista Camp. Campers will learn how to tamper, foam milk, and pour a double shot all at zero-gravity. Camp culminates with the ever-popular anti-gravity cappuccino pour-off. At the end of camp, each camper will receive his or her own patented lidded tablespoon. (Limit, one per camper.) </div>
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5. <b>Lord of the Flies Camp </b>- Pass the conch, kill the pig, and light the signal fire! Have you ever wanted to spend the summer with your best buddies, learning to live off the land? At this adventure-filled camp, campers will enjoy the high points of the best-selling William Golding novel, while skipping over all that nasty societal breakdown and killing business. If you think the themes might be too dark for your camper, think again, the Hunger Games Camp actually <a href="http://gawker.com/floridas-hunger-games-themed-summer-camp-for-kids-is-i-1045316297">exists</a>.</div>
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6. <b>Tattoo Artist Camp</b> - Be like your imaginary bff, Kylie <strike>Kardashian</strike> Jenner and get a <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2627013/Kylie-Jenner-16-tattoos-INITIALS-Lionel-Ritchies-son-Miles-hand-despite-illegal.html">head start</a> on one of the top careers of the future, tattoo artistry! Perfect your technique for inking random Chinese letters on pretentious teenagers. Learn from the mistakes of others so that you can avoid doing things like this:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.epicinter.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/funny-bad-tattoos-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://news.epicinter.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/funny-bad-tattoos-5.jpg" height="320" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.epicinter.net/the-most-hideous-tattoos-what-were-they-thinking/">via</a></td></tr>
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and this:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.epicinter.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/funny-bad-tattoos-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://news.epicinter.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/funny-bad-tattoos-3.jpg" height="320" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.epicinter.net/the-most-hideous-tattoos-what-were-they-thinking/">via</a></td></tr>
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and this?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thegloss.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/strangest-choices-for-celebrity-portrait-tattoos-person.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thegloss.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/strangest-choices-for-celebrity-portrait-tattoos-person.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thegloss.com/tag/bad-tattoos/">via</a></td></tr>
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Which is a really good likeness of Will Ferrell in "Elf," but why? Not 18 yet? No worries. Campers practice inking sedated pigs. You know what they say, "If you can tattoo a pig, you can tattoo people!"</div>
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7. <b>Copy Editing Camp</b> - Does your child love the Oxford comma? Does she correct the spelling of graffiti scribbled on the bathroom stall at school? Does he involuntarily spasm when someone uses "your" instead of "you're?" If this sounds like your (not you're) budding grammarian, Copy Editing Camp will be your child's perfect match. Special activities include debating whether to change the name of <a href="http://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=1565">Copy Editing Camp to Copyediting Camp</a> and field trips in search of misspelled signs. The latter activity is a favorite, and last year's campers found some excellent examples:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://applecopywriting.com/copywriter/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/sign-300x186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://applecopywriting.com/copywriter/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/sign-300x186.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://applecopywriting.com/the-top-three-grammatical-mistakes-that-make-your-business-look-unprofessional/">via</a></td></tr>
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and:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFbmJpCwaDnkGetmwfArjnIfw6h2JognA-gEtx3xUuqBezA1_xIhXT5HvP0pinOLDrFfB7o8ZftMdGEjyW1-b2zRwhwXh7TxgMX8qa86QJUrm4504CcRfDjY70wk4pFz-djIqz7WVgw/s1600/12345.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFbmJpCwaDnkGetmwfArjnIfw6h2JognA-gEtx3xUuqBezA1_xIhXT5HvP0pinOLDrFfB7o8ZftMdGEjyW1-b2zRwhwXh7TxgMX8qa86QJUrm4504CcRfDjY70wk4pFz-djIqz7WVgw/s1600/12345.PNG" height="233" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4thgrade4ever.blogspot.com/2013/10/find-mistake-embarrassing-but.html">via</a></td></tr>
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and:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bitrebels.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/english-grammar-on-signs-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.bitrebels.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/english-grammar-on-signs-13.jpg" height="287" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bitrebels.com/lifestyle/grammar-mistakes-on-signs/">via</a></td></tr>
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As we like to say, this is the Copy Editing Camp about which your mother warned you!<br />
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8. <b>Taxidermy Camp</b> - All children love stuffed animals. But why confuse them with anatomically inaccurate versions of animals, when they could be playing with the real thing? Campers will start out with small mammals (courtesy of our joint agreement with Junior Exterminator Camp) and work up to mounting a deer. That's right, campers will learn the skills needed to create a high quality commercial deer mount, including shaving the cape, sawing off the antlers, and preparing the cape for tanning. Campers are asked to bring their own capes, as the Camp facility has limited freezer space for full deer heads. Sign up for Taxidermy Camp and ensure that the artistry of taxidermy will be passed down to another generation. </div>
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9. <b>Extreme Couponing Camp</b> - There's nothing like the adrenalin rush you get when you score a double coupon on a store special. If your child craves a bargain like other children crave candy and unlimited screen time, Extreme Couponing Camp is for her (or him, boys like to save a buck, too)! Campers get schooled in BOGO, manufacturers coupons, the best coupon websites, and how to find the greatest deal on every product. Campers learn from the best, with video tutorials from experts, like <strike><a href="http://www.couponcabin.com/blog/kate-gosselin-couponcabin/">Kate Gosselin</a></strike>, <a href="http://www.wetpaint.com/the-bachelorette/articles/ashley-heberts-sister-chrystie-corns-five-things-you-need-to-know">Bachelorette Ashley's sister</a> and <a href="http://www.couponing101.com/about/">this lady</a> and other coupon fanatics (all of whom are also good Christian homeschoolers). Campers will receive their own coupon file and a wealth of knowledge that makes this the only camp that practically pays for itself!</div>
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<br />
I've got to say, that Copy Editing Camp was a tough one to turn down, but the Boy said he'd prefer basketball. Kids! </div>
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 192px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 3950px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 192px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 3950px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 192px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 3950px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 192px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 3950px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-59936597637379379892014-05-16T14:11:00.002-04:002014-05-16T14:11:36.239-04:00Appreciation FatigueLast week was "National Teacher Appreciation Week," which is conveniently followed by "National Parents of School-Aged Children Nervous Breakdown Fortnight." This is a festive time during which copious amounts of alcohol are consumed, prescriptions for sedatives are renewed, and emergency rooms log a marked increase in the number of people coming in with hot glue gun burns. The end of school is nigh for many of us and this means that everything between now and June 1st will be a blur of recitals, field days, tournaments, end of year celebrations, moving up ceremonies, volunteer luncheons, teacher gifts, assistant teacher gifts, coach gifts, and assistant to the coach gifts (for reals - I'm collecting for this one, care to donate?). It's just all.so.much. I certainly appreciate all the teachers and coaches who have taught my children this year, but I feel like I would appreciate them even <i>more</i> if the appreciation week was in, say March. Further, I would appreciate the ceremonies and performances and tournaments more if they weren't all crammed into a two week period. It's like <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/id/24712998/ns/us_news-giving/t/disaster-fatigue-blamed-drop-giving/#.U3O7GF5XApE">tragedy fatigue</a> when one disaster happens on the heels of another disaster, people get overwhelmed and are less likely to donate to victims of the subsequent tragedy. I feel like I have appreciation fatigue, so that by the time that last school-related event on the calendar (the Boy's end of the year ice cream party) rolls around, his class will probably receive whatever I already have on hand for ice cream toppings. (Why yes, dried basil flakes and pepper <i>are</i> delicious on vanilla ice cream. <i>And</i> they're certified peanut and gluten free.) Luckily, the Boy is indifferent about my presence at his events. Sometimes he outright requests that I don't come. Maybe it's in how I ask him:<br />
<br />
Me: Do you want me to come to the second grade lunch?<br />
Boy: I don't care.<br />
Me: What if I promise to sit next to you and hold your hand?<br />
Boy: Mom, stop!<br />
Me: I'll play with your hair and sing to you?<br />
Boy: No! Please DO NOT come.<br />
Me: Are you sure?<br />
Boy: Yes.<br />
<br />
It's all in the ask.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>As I said, last week was Teacher Appreciation Week and each of the kids' three schools had different approaches to the week and specified certain gifts for each day. Just so I wouldn't get mixed up, I set out all the gifts the night before so they'd be all ready in the morning. <br />
<br />
Monday:<br />
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The Girl's school was having a Cinco de Mayo luncheon for the teachers, for which the PTO requested two food items: multiple trays of enchiladas and bowls of fruit. One of the things that tickles me about the Girl's school is that whenever they ask for fruit, they specify that the fruit should be cut into "bite-sized pieces" and not left in big chunks "like they sell at Publix." This level of specificity puzzles me (have the teachers not thought to use a knife to cut the offending-sized fruit? Better yet, has anyone advised the teachers to...chew?) and has caused me to steer clear of bringing fruit to anything. So, with fruit off the table, I was left with enchiladas or donating a gift card for a door prize. I pondered this choice for about three seconds. I was 99% persuaded to go with the gift card because I'm exhausted, but 1% of me truly considered the tray of enchiladas. Ultimately, I rejected the idea because enchiladas brought to school at 7:30 and served at noon seem: 1. gross, and 2. a possible health code violation. <br />
<br />
The Baby's school was having a teacher breakfast that morning, hence the Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I showed up to the school with the doughnuts around 9:30, on my way to pick up the Girl for an orthodontist appointment (because, why not squeeze that in amidst the craziness) and was reminded again of the thriving hippie population in my town. The table in the staff lounge was loaded down with all sorts of apparently homemade goodies, and I snuggled my store-bought hunks of fried dough right between some hard-boiled eggs (labeled "From our backyard chickens!") and some gluten-free flax muffins. I'm totally sure that the organic, free range eggs were delicious and certainly <i>way</i> better for you than doughnuts, but come on, this is 'Merica! Speaking of which...what do you think about this kids' t-shirt for Memorial Day:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vNx_vqQ6Pat7uwAIZsnH8XLNL_XC4XOguoEZeMfLZBV5G_fl6WnIpg0ScNXQn3vTpazk54K_jztq0ZZHJAxJFnT0WRZkiAFyM18V9BZAvu8gsKw7zSE8lwgJDMGqCJ__M2w_Cjwemylg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-05-15+at+1.03.00+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vNx_vqQ6Pat7uwAIZsnH8XLNL_XC4XOguoEZeMfLZBV5G_fl6WnIpg0ScNXQn3vTpazk54K_jztq0ZZHJAxJFnT0WRZkiAFyM18V9BZAvu8gsKw7zSE8lwgJDMGqCJ__M2w_Cjwemylg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-05-15+at+1.03.00+PM.png" height="377" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why yes, that's an American flag made out of bacon. Because<br />bacon is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2T_obaO46Bo">good for me</a>. If you don't know what I'm talking about,<br />please, please watch the linked video.</td></tr>
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So, that just left the Boy who had a write up a Teachergram for his teacher. This is the heartfelt, sincere message that he composed:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You are special because...you don't give us<br />too much work."</td></tr>
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Ah, the Boy. Such a sentimentalist.<br />
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Tuesday:<br />
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The Girl had to bring a book or a gift card to a book store for her teacher. Her teacher got a gift card to Barnes & Noble (thanks again, Publix), which I hope she uses posthaste before the company <a href="http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424127887323608504579024540969921948">goes out of business</a>.<br />
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The Baby was supposed to bring flowers for her teachers and was responsible for those two vases which look approximately 1000 times better in this picture than they did in real life. Not that it really mattered because the Baby told me that the vases fell apart immediately upon delivery, and that pencils spilled all over the classroom floor. I'm <i>so </i>glad I wasn't there for that fail. I guess I should have glued the pencils to the vases, but then they couldn't actually <i>use</i> the pencils. After the Krispy Kremes on Monday, I really didn't need the hippies after me for killing trees by wasting pencils.<br />
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The students in the Boy's class all wrote notes to their teacher and we gave him a personalized clipboard. True to form, the Boy's note had a message almost identical to the one on Monday's Teachergram. I got the clipboard at <a href="http://www.cafepress.com/">Cafepress</a> and designed it myself. This is probably the one piece of non-snarky helpful information in this whole post. Male teachers are often difficult to buy for, and the Boy said that his teacher has actually used the clipboard already.<br />
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Wednesday:<br />
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I was supposed to donate to our school system's education foundation on Wednesday, but I didn't. Apologies, to the Foundation, but please, I probably spent over $100 buying stuff for the teachers this week and I just couldn't do anymore. I would <i>rather</i> give the foundation $100 and do nothing else, but then I'd be letting my kids be the only ones to walk into class without flowers or notes or gift cards. Teacher Appreciation Week is like an arms race and I'm not comfortable with my children being casualties if I start drawing down.<br />
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You're wondering why I'm showing a picture of pretzels and fruit gummies for Wednesday, well, the Baby was lucky enough to be assigned the class snack on Wednesday. Hump Day, guys!<br />
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Thursday:<br />
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The Girl made a card for her teacher on Thursday. Her class has a pet tortoise named Tortellini, who is featured on the front of the card. She wrote a sweet message inside that expressed her sincere appreciation for her teacher. This, to me, is really what Teacher Appreciation Week should be about, not trays of congealed enchiladas, but what do I know?<br />
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The Baby got to answer some questions about her teachers. Her lead teacher is Mrs. C.<br />
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The assistant teacher is Mrs. P. I don't know if the Baby has sensed some tension between them, but she thought that they'd both be going to the beach this summer, but specified that they'd be going to <i>different</i> beaches. Hmmmm.<br />
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Our class brought lunch for the Boy's teacher and assistant teacher. I think. The husband of one of the other room moms was supposed to do it, but it seemed like he might forget. So, I honestly have no idea if this was actually done, but by then, I didn't even have the energy to care. This is <i>exactly </i>what I mean by appreciation fatigue. The Boy's teacher got a clipboard and the Boy's undying gratitude for not overworking him this year. Isn't that enough?<br />
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Friday:<br />
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TGIF! I swear, I thought we'd never get here. The Girl had to bring flowers or a plant to her teacher and I decided that if her teacher committed to a live tortoise in the classroom, she'd probably prefer some tulips that she could actual plant in her garden to a $3 bouquet of artificially colored flowers from Publix.<br />
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The Baby had to bring in placemats for her teachers to use at the PTA-hosted teacher lunch. In case you've never tried, it is a <i>nightmare</i> to laminate anything with contact paper under the best conditions. Trying to do it on Thursday night at 10 pm after a busy week is just a circle of hell that Dante forgot to mention. The K helped me with this project and we're all lucky he'd already had a drink before we started. The results were not pretty and I used all of my best New Jersey cursing vocabulary. If you squint to read the names on the placemat you'll see that the Baby has two Noahs in her class. In case you didn't know, Noah has replaced Jacob as the <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/05/09/living/popular-baby-names-2013-parents/">most popular name for baby boys</a>.<i> </i>I appreciate <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/05/09/living/popular-baby-names-2013-parents/">love stories about Alzheimer's</a> and Biblical tales about whales as much as the next person, but I think that the popularity of the name Noah is part of a bigger trend of popularity for Old Testament names. I helped out in the Boy's class last year and there were boys named Levi, Benjamin, Abraham, Ismael, Hiram, and Elijah Okay, I'm exaggerating, but it was pretty damn close.<br />
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So, now I am suffering from post-appreciation exhaustion, but I have no time to recover because we are in the thick of end-of-school and activity commemoration events. Each kid has an event scheduled for May 28th already, and I just received word that the "Schoolwide [sic] Celebrations committee" at the Boy's school has decreed that the school year will end with a book parade on that same day. The catch is that because of the Common Core's distain for fiction, the kids can't dress up like book characters, as they have in past years. Now the Boy's grade should dress like "Native Americans and Georgia Heroes." I really have no problem with the parade, but on top of everything else that we've got going on, scaring up a James Oglethorpe costume seems a little much. I'm thinking I could get out of it if I play it the right way with the Boy:<br />
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Me: So, you're supposed to dress like a Georgia Hero or Native American for the no-longer-a-book-parade.<br />
Boy: Yeah, I think I'll dress like Jimmy Carter.<br />
Me: Perfect! I think I dress like his wife, Rosalynn and march with you! Won't that be fun?<br />
Boy: Please don't. I think I'll just wear my baseball uniform and go as Jackie Robinson.<br />
Me: Great, I'll dress like a baseball fan and cheer for...<br />
Boy: No.<br />
Me: But...<br />
Boy: I think I'll just ask if I can carry the second grade sign. Please don't even come to the parade. I beg you.<br />
Me: Sigh, if that's what you really want...<br />
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It's all in the ask!<br />
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-15737247320585574862014-05-02T14:46:00.000-04:002014-05-02T14:47:10.786-04:00Play that Funky MusicI'm not one of those parents who believes that my parental responsibilities include making sure that my kids have decent taste in music. That's for parents who want extra credit. I'm just trying to get by with supplying food, shelter, and transportation. Some of my friends have taken their children to carefully selected concerts and play their kids classical, jazz, and world music to make sure that they know a wide array of music genres. Other than some baby music classes that I forced upon the Boy (currently the least musically of the children, coincidentally I am sure) I have done nothing. This has worked out fine until recently when the girls both independently decided that they are interested in music. The Baby has "Let it Go" on repeat and has listened to it so much that she has memorized the entire song. This is most shocking when you know that this child often asks me at 3 pm whether she's eaten lunch. (I'd like to note that even in the sorry state of affairs that my life has become in the last year, the answer to that question is usually yes. Eight out of 10 times, anyway.) By the way, I would post a video of her rendition, but I figured that would be the equivalent of telling you about a dream that I had. There is a very slight chance you would find it interesting, but there is a much greater chance that you would want to tear out your eyes and ears. I will share this picture of her in full Elsa costume:<br />
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In case you haven't seen "Frozen" (Echo, echo, echo), the crown and cape are vitally important to the Baby's performance of "Let it Go" because Elsa tosses her crown away, symbolizing her abandoning her former life as the queen of Arendelle. Likewise, she dramatically flips the cape prior to entering the ice castle she has created and slams the door behind her at the end of the song. The Baby incorporates all these little flourishes into her performance, with that weird rainbow dreadlocked headband getting tossed across the room (often hitting someone). The deer blanket I used to decorate for the K's <a href="http://outwentthelight.blogspot.com/2013/02/aint-no-party.html">white trash birthday party</a> last year is obviously her cape. I was shocked when it ripped because it seemed such good quality (sarcasm font). Instead of slamming the door to her ice castle, the Baby has to settle for slamming the door to the laundry room. I promise that when she's finished, there's not a dry eye in the house.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>During many of our carpool trips, the Girl has to sit in the front seat because with my three and three additional passengers, we fill up the entire swagger wagon and she's the biggest kid. She <i>loves </i>this because it allows her to control the radio, which she switches every two seconds so we can hear the "best" parts of every song. I don't know how, but she seems to know every song on the radio even though I don't notice her ever listening to music. This worries me a bit, because I wonder what else I might be missing. For all I know, she could have a side job at Starbucks and I won't find out until she hands me my latte.<br />
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The K has fancy satellite radio in his truck, but the swagger wagon is <i>very</i> basic. Essentially, it's a box with doors and four wheels. I practically have Fred Flintstone the van to make it go, so clearly we've got no satellite radio. This means no Disney versions of popular songs, which is why when we were all listening to "Talk Dirty to Me" the other day, I tried to convince myself that the lyrics are incomprehensible enough that the kids are clueless.<br />
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I have really, really lowbrow taste in music (ex. my favorite song for <i>years</i> was "Mr. Roboto" by Styx), so of course I love "Talk Dirty to Me," most especially because the horns sound like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klezmer">klezmer</a> music. If you're not familiar with klezmer and don't feel like clicking, just think "Fiddler on the Roof." My cousin had a klezmer band at his wedding, which was held at the <a href="http://muttermuseum.org/">Mutter Museum</a> at University of Pennsylvania. I can pretty much guarantee it was the most unusual wedding I've ever attended, as it's not often that you enjoy single-sex dancing to Yiddish music a few steps away from a massive collection of human remains (including part of Albert Einstein's brain and a plaster cast of Cheng and Eng Bunker's liver, and a collection of over 100 human skulls):<br />
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Even though <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk_Dirty_(Jason_Derulo_song)">Wikipedia</a> calls the backing instruments "honky horns," I'm totally thinking klezmer and I must not be the only one because I found this cover of the song by Postmodern Jukebox on YouTube:<br />
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The Boy does not share his sisters' interest in popular music. In fact, I found a note where the Girl tried to get him to identify his ten favorite songs:<br />
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At this point, I think it's safe to admit that this kid was born at age 40 and is due to receive his AARP membership any day. I don't know what Mozart piece he likes because, while I could sing "Do You Want to Build a Snowman" in my sleep, if someone held a gun to my head and told me to hum some Mozart, I'd be a goner. So, Mozart aside, what in the world is "Counting Stars Song During Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2 cretits [sic]?" It must be <i>awesome </i>right, because he loves it second only to Mozart and likes <i>nothing </i>else. Ever. "Sorry, that's it." So, I Googled and came up with a Cody Simpson song called, "La Da Dee:"<br />
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Apparently, Cody Simpson is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cody_Simpson">Australian</a> and thus, is not one of the Jessica Simpsons, but is from an entirely different blonde-highlighted singing Simpson family. I feel like one singing Simpson family is enough, but maybe Cody is stepping into the void left by Jessica when she went into the shoe design/competitive baby-making/weight loss business. Ashlee wasn't a candidate since she never recovered from the "Saturday Night Live" backing-track vocals fiasco and, in any case, is too busy being <a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20800813,00.html">engaged</a> to Diana Ross's son to learn the ukelele. (Please someone click on the link and tell me what Evan Ross is wearing in the picture from their engagement party. Is it yak? I'm pretty sure it's vest made of either a yak or mastodon).<br />
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The C. Simpson song isn't horrible, but I promise you, it's no "Mr. Roboto," which was introduced to a whole new generation when Jimmy Fallon lip synched to it in his lip synch battle with Emma Stone:<br />
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This is seriously the best thing I've seen all week. The <i>only</i> way it could have been better is if Emma had chosen Mr. Roboto. That would have been perfect.<br />
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-25709516668221276462014-04-24T13:29:00.001-04:002014-04-24T13:29:38.811-04:00The Parenting Continuum Have you all heard about <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2014/04/21/304196338/for-the-childrens-sake-put-down-that-smartphone">this</a> study in which researchers observed parents ignoring their children because they were so absorbed in checking their smartphones? Although this was not a scientific study, more like anthropological observations, one of the researchers noted that children whose parents were on the phone the longest were more likely to act out to get their parent's attention. A psychologist not involved in the experiment commented that when parents put their digital devises ahead of their children they are sending the message to the children that they are not interesting and that they don't matter. I think we can all agree that the conclusion reached is indisputable. Obviously, we all know it is better to engage with your children than to ignore them. Additionally, I think we'd agree that it's incredibly rude to pull out your phone mid-conversation with <i>anyone</i>, a child or an adult, and start texting or checking email. My problem is that "research" like this is part of a whole trend in parent-shaming that makes it hard to feel like you are ever doing enough as a caregiver.<br />
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The cards are stacked against parents from the get-go in the anthropological study. The researchers observing 55 groups of adults and young children dining at fast food restaurants (a McDonald's according to the radio broadcast of the story) in the course of one summer. The key points to me are the location (a fast food restaurant) and the time of year (summer). You know when I tend to take my kids to fast food restaurants? When I'm in a hurry and we're away from home. You know when I take my kids to fast food restaurants in the summer? I do it when they're not in camp and we've been out doing some child-centered activity in the morning and need to eat lunch out before segueing into our afternoon of child-centered activities. If the researchers were watching me, I <i>guarantee</i> that I'd be checking my phone when we sat down at the table. Would the researchers prefer that I do that while driving to Chick fil-A?<br />
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<a name='more'></a>After I checked my phone, would I put it away? Probably, but maybe not. If I've been hanging out with my kids all day at a museum and haven't gotten a chance to look at messages, I might really go through my email while we wait for our food (one of the reasons I like Chick fil-A is because they always take pity on me and bring our food to the table). So, when the researchers draw conclusions from observations taken under these very limited circumstances, I don't think they're really getting a picture of the situation. During the summer kids are at not at school, so parents taking care of kids have very little, if any, time without children to check messages. Like it or not, one of the primary ways in which we communicate these days is via email and text. My smart phone has my shopping list and my calendar with reminders and appointments. I think it makes a big difference if the McDonald's parents are ignoring their children because they're watching YouTube videos or because they're making a shopping list or coordinating something important for work. The researchers also only looked at this particular slice of time and doesn't recognize that perhaps that parent has just spent the morning playing basketball with his kids or taking them to the zoo. It's vastly unfair to observe the parents checking their phone and extrapolate this whole message that parents are universally ignoring their children in favor of their smartphones.<br />
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Personally, I feel like parents today are being held to a unrealistically high standard. My parents sometimes ignored me and I'm sure I'm not alone. My parents would read the newspaper or talk on the phone or watch television to get some "me" time. If they had smartphones in the 70's, I guarantee you Dad would have been watching live feeds of the Watergate hearings while I nagged him to play cards with me. As an adult and a parent, I harbor no ill-will against my parents. I totally understand that sometimes you need a break. If the alternative to taking a break is going crazy or getting angry or something worse, then ignore the kids a little if it helps keep you sane. Obviously, I'm not advocating a position of, "I was ignored, so it's okay for me to ignore my kids." This is the same justification that allows fraternity and sorority hazing to continue. Yes, we should try to do better, but let's not let perfection be the enemy of the good.<br />
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Picture a continuum of ways to interact with your child. On one side you are having a perfect, educational, loving conversation with said child. On the other side you are doing something horrible, like saying hurtful things or beating the child...whatever, something so monstrous that I don't even want to think about it. Where on this spectrum is checking your cell phone in the presence of your child at a fast food restaurant during the summer (implicit is that, being summer, the child has been with you seven days a week, 24 hours a day)? I'd argue that it's way closer to the loving, interactive side of the spectrum. Is it ideal? No, of course not. But in an ideal world nice guys would finish first, my kids would clean up their rooms without being prompted, and we would all eat dinner together every night. Reality is not ideal.<br />
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This study rubbed me the wrong way as soon as I read it, but it took me a little while to organize my thoughts on why exactly it irritated me. I was reminded of this passage in a book called, "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Highly-Sensitive-Child-children-overwhelms-ebook/dp/B000FC1IJ0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1398359697&sr=8-1&keywords=the+highly+sensitive+child">The Highly Sensitive Child</a>" by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D. She talks about being "highly sensitive" and how difficult it is to be a parent. She says, "[l]et's fully admit how difficult it is to be a parent and highly sensitive. We need our alone time, but there is no truly alone time with an infant, especially if you have more than one child and also a partner (or even more difficult, you are a single parent)." What struck me (when compared to checking a phone in front of your child) is the description of what Dr. Aron's husband devised to get her some "alone time" when their son was small:<br />
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<i>My husband, not highly sensitive but awfully clever, was always finding solutions for me. My favorite was the one he came up with when he had to be away for a whole day and evening. In order for me to have some time alone, away from my fourteen-month-old, he arranged the kitchen so there were plenty of toys down below and a set stool for me so I could sit on top of the refrigerator, out of sight of my son. (Left alone with toys in a playpen or crib he would howl, but not when he had the run of the kitchen, even though he could not see me, he tended to play happily.)</i><br />
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And here I thought that the mothers swathed in cloth in Victorian portraits like this:<br />
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were just trying to keep the kids calm so the photographer could get a good picture. Now I think they may be hiding from their children. But I digress...Where on that parenting continuum is hiding from your toddler on top of a refrigerator? Is it better than checking email in front of your kid? I don't know, but neither of them are the ideal. The point is that Dr. Aron, in a slightly unusual way, acknowledges what the McDonald's researcher do not. Parents need time off. It's okay to check out for a minute. We're not a bunch of robots programmed to do nothing but cater to our children's needs. Maybe checking out for a minute and checking in with a non-kid world is what those McDonald's parents need to be decent parents for the rest of the day. Not perfect parents, but decent parents who are just doing their best to stay sane and raise the next generation of decent parents. Isn't that enough?<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-1342565981474737852014-04-21T14:38:00.002-04:002014-04-21T14:38:52.197-04:00Easter-Related MusingsWe celebrated Easter yesterday with lots of eating and sitting around, two things at which I could excel except that on most days I only have five minutes to shove a meal in my mouth before racing off to some activity. When I retire I plan to devote more time to eating and sitting around; it would be practically un-American not to. We also went to church and the minister told a funny (to me, anyway) story about receiving a promotional email from a company that will provide the equipment to enable people to fly during church Easter productions. The email said something like, "You know what's missing from your Easter production? Flying!" I'm a little bit upset that I've never received an email saying that that the one thing missing from my life is flying, because it's true. I already get 1,000 emails a day telling me that what's missing from my life is the perfect pair of ankle-cuff sandals or some new outdoor furniture, but not a word about flying. After the minister told the flying story he said some religious stuff, little of which I retained because the Boy distracted me with pictures of soldiers that he was drawing on the prayer request pamphlet in the pew. Since I left the pamphlet there, I hope someone finds it and decides that it's a prayer request for the military and not just random vandalism.<br />
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When the Boy and the Girl were little they went to a church-affiliated preschool, and they learned the Easter story in Pre-K. When the Girl (five at the time) recounted the story for me she said, "Some soldiers killed Jesus and then they put him in a tube." I said that the word was actually "tomb," but that I could see why she thought it was a tube. She told me she thought that the tube she was thinking of one of those nylon tubes that kids can crawl through - like this:<br />
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<i>Aside: These tubes are a nice activity until the kids get big enough to put the tunnel over their heads vertically and wander around banging into things.</i> This explained her temporary reluctance to go into our play tunnels. Thank goodness we cleared that up.<br />
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Not to be outdone, when I asked the Boy about the Easter story he said that the soldiers put Jesus someplace, but he couldn't remember where. I prompted him that the word started with a "T." "Oh, I know! They put Jesus in a teepee!" So, note to pre-school religion teachers: when you mention the "tomb" the kids have zero idea what you are talking about.<br />
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Because we went to church, the kids had to get dressed up. The Baby is easy because she would wear a floor-length ball gown every day if she were permitted. She also has a bunch of the Girl's old dresses because I was still making an effort with the kids' appearance back in 2008. Now I'm so harried and things are so hectic that we're all lucky if they're wearing shoes that fit and that their fingernails get trimmed before they get lady-hands. The Boy is the next easiest because while he complains about wearing a collared-shirt and khakis, I remind him that it could be much worse. We live in the south and he could easily be wearing seersucker, a bow tie, and bucks. (Secretly, I would love to dress him like this, but he would <i>never</i> forgive me).<br />
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The Girl has entered a stage where she wants to wear sweatpants or jeans and t-shirts all the time, so she was not thrilled when I told her that she'd need to wear a dress. I went shopping and came home to present her with three options. She told me that they were all "terrible" and that I should just pick because they were all so bad that there was no good choice. I persuaded her to try them on to see which one fit her best and she grudgingly agreed. All the dresses looked fine to me, but she was clearly unhappy about the whole thing and shut herself in her room. She wouldn't even come out when I sang, "Love is an Open Door," to her. She just told me to be quiet. In the end, she agreed to a very plain navy blue dress and by the time Easter rolled around she had forgotten to hate it and wore it without a fuss. Kids are predictable only in the unpredictability.<br />
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I decided that I would give up reading my primary Hollywood gossip websites for Lent and I did a pretty good job. It was helpful that Facebook now has the trending news feed so I "inadvertently" caught the news that Gwenyth Paltrow and Chris Martin are "<a href="http://www.goop.com/journal/be/conscious-uncoupling">consciously uncoupling</a>" and that Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher are <a href="http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/mila-kunis-ashton-kutcher-new-orleans-brewery-picture-2014204">having a baby</a>. For some reason the one question that kept nagging me through my 40-day gossip drought was whether Kendra Wilkinson (late of "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Girls_Next_Door">Girls Next Door</a>") and married to Hank Baskett (late of the NFL) had given birth to her second child. I have no idea why, of all pressing matters in the world, I was worried that I would miss the big event. When I checked back to the gossip world today I was relieved to see that Kendra was still preggers and even taking pregnant bikini pictures on the beach (stars! they are not at all like us). I watched Kendra's reality show when she was pregnant with her first kid and I don't know that I've ever seen a more realistically unpleasant depiction of pregnancy. I think she about doubled her body weight and just seemed wholly miserable the entire time. It was so refreshingly honest that I've always had a special place in my heart for this woman I will never meet. If you're wondering how this tangent relates at all to Easter, please remember that Kendra was a Playboy <i>Bunny</i>.<br />
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Finally, on the way to school this morning one of my little carpool members announced that she had spied the Easter Bunny hiding eggs outside and ran out and managed to give the Bunny a hug before he hopped away. This caused the Baby (who was in a mood-and-a-half already) to cry because, of course, she's never interrupted the Easter Bunny and given him a hug. While I was trying to figure out how to calm the Baby without calling out the first kid for lying (or maybe her dad dons an Easter Bunny suit and hops around on their lawn, what do I know?) and then revealing that the Easter Bunny doesn't exist, our third little carpool member piped up: "The Easter Bunny is magic. You can't see him and you can't hug him. He'd disappear." It's true, he'd go right down his rabbit tube. I mean hole.<br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019999524357394672.post-83150945296153174752014-04-16T14:47:00.001-04:002014-04-16T14:47:23.635-04:00All Joy and No FunAfter today, my kids have 30 more days of school before summer break. For the first time, I think I'm looking forward to the break more than the children. I'm going to be blunt: This school year has kicked my ass six ways to Sunday. Part of the reason that I haven't been posting is because I've been working on revising my novel (BTW, I hate the way that makes me sound like a pretentious cliche - like how all SAHMs with a camera are suddenly "photographers" and all SAHMs who have a camera and fancy themselves writers are bloggers ;-)). But this is supposed to be a humor blog and I've been in such a funk that I've had a hard time seeing the funny side of anything. <div>
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I'm self-aware enough to realize that it is ridiculous for me to be stressed out. Objectively speaking, my life is pretty easy. I don't live in a war zone, my children have enough to eat, and all my problems sound like whiny first-world problems, i.e., "Worst day ever! Whole Foods is out of brown rice sushi!" The other day I was rushing around the grocery store (my umpteenth visit of the week) and saw an old lady sitting on a scooter and rummaging in the bargain bin wearing a "I'm too blessed to be stressed" t-shirt. That got me thinking: Surely, I'm at least as equally as blessed as the old lady. So, why am I not walking around humming "Happy," with a perpetual grin on my face?</div>
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I'll admit that part of it is my natural demeanor. I'm a worrier and a stresser and a worst-case-scenario-seer. I've always wanted to be one of those people who exudes positive energy and happiness, but I think the best I really do is manage my negative energy so that I don't alienate everyone. I'm convinced that, like Lady Gaga, I was born this way and there's not much I can do to change it. In fact, I remember as a kid, riding the bus to school and watching a little girl in the seat in front of me stick her head out of the window to catch the wind in her face. She looked completely relaxed with her hair blowing behind her. I watched miserably, knowing that she was going to get decapitated at any moment. I am still grateful that the bus driver eventually saw her and yelled at her to get her head back inside the bus. (It really <i>is</i> totally dangerous to stick your head out the window. I'm quite sure there are statistics.)</div>
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Even with my glass-half-empty outlook, there doesn't seem to be a good reason to be stressed out in my bourgeois, safe, suburban life. But then I read <a href="http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304757004579335053525792432">this fabulous article</a> in the "Wall Street Journal" and it was like an epiphany. Jennifer Senior, the author of the article, wrote a book called, "All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood," which sounds fascinating. The article itself focuses on one point from the book which is that when men and women share in household chores, the types of chores that each partner performs are different and often the chores that women perform are more stressful. Even taking away the us versus them slant of the article (I need to keep the domestic peace at home, after all), Senior mentions several things that really resonated with me:</div>
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1. Child care causes more stress than other kinds of housework. Informal survey: Women with children, what would you rather do at the end of the day: Put the kids to bed or wash dishes? Give me dishes, every time. Dishes never make you sing just *one more song* before bed. Dishes go into the dishwasher and leave you alone. </div>
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2. Mothers typically assume many time-sensitive tasks, such as getting kids to school and to practices and activities. Having your daily schedule filled with these "pressure points" or "nonnegotiable demands" makes your life "more frenetic." This is why my friend's sons all sleep in their clothes. Saving three minutes in the morning can make a difference in your sanity. </div>
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3. Having these deadlines forces women to scramble to find pockets of time in which to accomplish their other tasks. This is why one of my friends edits her book manuscripts at soccer practice and another conducts conference calls in the the movie theatre lobby while her kids are inside the theatre. This is why I try to write after my kids are in bed, but then realize I'm too tired to put together a coherent sentence. </div>
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4. When you have to subdivide your time in this way, it "creates a feeling of urgency - a sense that no matter how tranquil the moment, no matter how unpressured the circumstances, there's always a pot somewhere that's about to boil over." I've been sitting on the couch watching television and trying to relax when my mind goes down this rabbit hole of anxiety: Ohmigosh, right now I have a pile of dirty laundry that includes the Girl's soccer uniform and if I don't wash it she won't have her uniform and she won't be able to play in the game and her coach will be pissed and she'll let down her teammates and she get demoted to a worse team, and she'll never play in high school and never get a college scholarship and she will live with us <i>forever</i> all because I screwed up and didn't wash her uniform <i>one time</i>. Okay, maybe I've never gone quite that far with the parade of horribles, but I've come close. Yes, it sounds like an insane chain of thought when you look at it logically, but I assure you that it seems quite real when you're in that moment of frenetic panic.</div>
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When I think about my schedule, it is absolutely rife with time-pressured activities. Take the carpool. Literally, please take the carpool because I am *this close* to applying for farm permits so that the children can start driving when they turn twelve. Not only are you dealing with the deadline of getting the kids to school, but you have the added stress of being required to adhere to others' timetables with little control of any one's actions. According to the <a href="https://www.apa.org/helpcenter/workplace-stress.aspx">American Psychological Association</a>, this is pretty much the recipe for stress. Carpools involve children and children are notoriously unaware that their actions have ripple effects that impact other people. When one child refuses to get into the car because she can't find her favorite headband, this makes all the kids late to school. Being late means that the carpool drop off is closed, which requires the driver to park the car, walk the kids into the office, sign them in late, and then walk the kids to their classrooms. So, ten minutes of dilly-dallying over the headband results in 30 minutes of wading through public school bureaucracy and all of the associated stresses. </div>
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Again, I realize that other people have much higher degrees of stress in their lives, but that doesn't diminish the fact that perpetually feeling like you need to be rushing to <i>something</i> can be very stressful. It's not like stress is a finite commodity that's meted out to only those in war zones or hospital waiting rooms. You can live in a nice house and have a nice family and still be miserably stressed out. As a bonus, no one who isn't also a stressed-out caregiver has any sympathy for you and you simply appear self-absorbed and mentally weak to others. </div>
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Some of you (I hope) are reading this and thinking, "Right on, Sister! I'm not the only one." At least I can feel like I've helped you all, because, camaraderie! Some women may want diamonds, but all I really want is validation. Some others of you are probably thinking, "Yes! I understand, but how are we going to fix this?" To you all, I have less to offer because if I knew how to fix it, I'd be writing funny posts instead of maudlin rants about how my life is making me a crazy person. Right now my coping strategy is to dig deep and try to find little rays of sunshine. Like this:</div>
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Only 30 more days of getting kids to school on time!</div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09587197679988343778noreply@blogger.com2