Archive for February, 2007

Vaginal Wart Remover

February 22, 2007

My husband has a 1-800 number for work that is very close to one of the American Idol voting numbers (number 12 to be precise).  The last two nights he has recieved at least a hundred calls during the hour or so after the show is done airing.  He has started answering his blackberry during this time with the phrase “Vaginal wart remover” just to see what people will say.  It’s quite funny to hear people’s puzzled responses. “Ummmm… American Idol?”  “No, you’ve reached vaginal wart remover.”

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February 22, 2007

This morning my son (13 years old) had a Kool Aid mustache on his upper lip and a zit on his nose. It was the perfect visual representation of him right now… caught between the joys of childhood and some of the misery of being a teenager.

 

Dance dance revolution

February 20, 2007

The dance was fun.  I served refreshments.  Tay had 2 girls ask him to dance, but he said “No!” to both of them.  Rea danced with one of Tay’s (less shy) friends.

Chris and I slow danced.  It was sweet and romantic.  We did get busted by Mrs. H. for “necking;”  luckily the kids don’t know what “necking” is…

Hmmm… but maybe it’s like pornography and you know it when you see it?

5 stages of grief

February 16, 2007

Well, the kids have finally reached the “acceptance stage” of grief-they aren’t happy with the chaperoning situation of tonight’s dance, but they are dealing with it. 

One prediction:  by 7 pm I will have talked at least one crying girl out of a locked stall in the ladies room….

The Kim Jong Il of mothers.

February 14, 2007

Friday I received a call to chaperone a middle school dance this weekend.  I agreed and offered up the service of my spouse.  I expected some mild grousing on the subject from my middle schoolers.  Instead I was met with this response:

“You are so mean.  I hate you!”

“I hate you!  You must hate me to do this to me; but I hate you more.”

“I am scarred for life.  I hate you!” 

“I am going to go far away for college and never come back because I hate you!”

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Notice a trend here?  My daughter is very dramatic, but usually about things like getting a cell phone (“Don’t you care if I get kidnapped?  I could get kidnapped and then you would never see me again… all because you didn’t buy me a cell phone.” )  Or cleaning her room (“I’ll never get it done!  You put too much pressure on me I have too much to do, etc….”) My tactic is usually to pay little attention to these outbursts; I’ll send her to room to calm down and deal with her then.  But this amount of grief over my presence at a dance was upsetting;  am I really that embarrassing? I wonder because my son’s response to the news was calmer than my daughters, but not much less damning. 

 

February 8, 2007

It’s five below zero today and guess whose car wouldn’t start this morning?  The BMW or my 1997 Toyota RAV4?  Yep, I was driving Chris to work this morning in my shiny old Toyota.  Gotta love the car 180,000 miles and still running (knock on wood).

 

Romantic and…..Cheap

February 7, 2007

The other night my husband brought me flowers.  In the darkened hallway they looked like they might be roses…. “roses?” I inquired.  His response:  “No, I got these at the grocery store and roses were like ten bucks, these were only five.”  Ahhh……  maybe he should have stopped at “No” 

But honestly, once you are married and the bank account is joint, expensive flowers seem somehow less romantic.  I’d rather have my husband scrub the bathroom floor.  (Now that is cheap and romantic!)

Burgled?

February 6, 2007

Yesterday my office was amongst the many businesses (no, they weren’t all bars despite the Journal Star article) that were broken into Sunday night. 

I arrived at work at 8 am to find the front door open.  Stupidly, I walked right in and started looking around; the front door had been jimmied (cop talk via L & O, of course); drawers were opened; it was freezing, but nothing appeared to be missing.  It was quite bizarre.  I called my boss and told her “I think we have been burgled.”  She told me to call the police and she would be in soon. Shortly afterwards our landlord pulled up  to his business next door.  I ran over and told him the situation; his restaurant had been robbed, too. The arcade games were missing their quarters; his “first dollar” plaque was smashed, resulting in a bifurcated, unspendable dollar bill and the fridge was left open. 

The police officer arrived.  She was very nice and professional.  Later crime scene guys came and took a picture of our door, including a previously unnoticed (by me) footprint on our door. It hadn’t been jimmied, merely forced open, resulting in a broken knob and lock. 

The strangest thing is that they walked right by all of our office equipment; they didn’t steal our petty cash or make a mess. 

The police told us they had already caught the thieves.  They were shown on the news last night; four boys eighteen or nineteen years old.  I keep trying to picture them walking through our office, touching our stuff.  It’s hard to imagine.

What is even harder to imagine is how they got started robbing businesses.  How did four people manage to come to an agreement to do something so wrong?  Did one say “Let’s risk our futures and steal other people’s hard earned money?” and all the rest said “sure, how about tonight?” 

Ansel Adams

February 6, 2007

Last Friday I took the afternoon off work and Chris and I went to see the Ansel Adams exhibit at Lakeview Museum.  It was outstanding.  The scenery shots were so beautiful; the contrast between the black and white/and all the shades in between was amazing.  I also really, really loved a photograph of Georgia O’Keefe. The photo has her and another man and the expression on her face is unexplainable. She looks lively, flirtatious, happy; like someone you would meet and feel an instant connection to, if that makes any sense. It’s not that she was beautiful but nevertheless immensely appealing (“crushable”). My other favorite was of a place called Moonrise, Hernandez, a small town in New Mexico. 

Dishes

February 2, 2007

Inspecting my son’s lackadaisical dish washing;  “Tay these are greasy.  There’s only two things that I like greasy, my men and my wine.”