Archives for February 2006

OH but we have been The Lackadaisicals at our house this afternoon. Everyone took naps, except for Ally, who sat at David’s feet for the entire afternoon and stared at him. Nothing would distract her. Not Alex, not food, not promises of outdoor adventure. Nothing. As a result, David has been very uncomfortable, as if someone has perhaps put some sort of tracking device into Ally’s little doggy brain in an effort to monitor all of his actions and activities for a Strategic Government Operation in which he is an unwilling participant.

For what it’s worth, I have never cared less about any sporting event than I do about this year’s Super Bowl. I can’t even pretend to be interested. The Bulldogs put a whipping on Auburn yesterday, though – and THAT I enjoyed.

This morning before church I had a couple of EXCELLENT parenting moments that Alex will no doubt carry in his heart for a lifetime and share with his own children as he extends our family’s parenting legacy into the next generation:

1) “Alex, you have a choice: you can come downstairs, or you can stay upstairs.”
2) “If you don’t wear a sweater, you’re going to be cold, because you won’t be warm.”

Brings a tear to the eye, doesn’t it?

Last thing: you all need to be watching Project Runway on Bravo. And just as enjoyable as the show is Tim Gunn’s blog and podcast after each episode.

Carry on.

Last Sunday we were driving home from church, and when Alex realized that he had left something there – now I can’t even remember what – we had the following conversation:

Alex: “Where is it?”
David: “You left it at church, buddy.”
Alex: “WAAAAAAAAAAA.”
Me: “Alex, you have to keep up with your things, or you will lose them.”
David: “That’s right, Alex. If you lose your things, you won’t have them anymore.”

Parental wisdom at its finest, ladies and gentlemen. I imagine that if a member of an Excellence in Parenting committee happens across this post, we will surely win some sort of award.

As always, it’s a terribly lively Saturday evening in our household, which means that David is reading, I am writing, and Alex is talking and playing with trains. It’s a glamorous existence, y’all. A few notes from the fast lane:

1. I am happy to tell you that once the weather finally made up its mind to GET COLD, ALREADY, satan’s sinus pressure of doom let up a little bit and I am now able to open my left eye completely again. As a result, I have quit fantasizing about medieval pain remedies, and the phrase “What you need is a good bleeding” has ceased running on a constant loop in my mind.

2. Alex enjoyed his Cheetos snack this afternoon, as you can see. Don’t let Mama see this picture, or she’ll hop in the car and drive the 2 1/2 hours over here for no other reason than to wipe his mouth. Me? Not so much.

3. Alex and Maggie, our lab, have had a bit of a contentious relationship in the past. Something about Alex wanting to pull Maggie’s tail and Maggie wanting Alex to disappear forever. But they’ve turned a corner in the last month or so, and last Sunday I posted some pictures of Alex filling Maggie’s bowl with food (which, by the way, is now his favorite activity in the whole wide world aside from talking non-stop and then screaming when he’s not talking). Long story long, this morning Alex and I were leaving to go to the grocery store, and as Alex was walking out of the kitchen he looked back and said, “I love you, Maggie! See you later!” So I think those two are going to be just fine.

4. The Blogger site has been cuckoo this weekend. I shan’t enumerate the problems for fear of skyrocketing blood pressure, so suffice it to say that I have been frustrated. I know that if I were a more patient person I would see the outages as “a challenge” or “an opportunity for growth,” but, you know, I’m not. And I don’t.

5. Today was the 1,000th page view at BooMama, which means the tens of you have been some pretty active readers over the last month. I believe, though I am not certain, that the 1,000th click was perpetrated by someone in Nashville – which means fabulous prizes for my sister and BIL. Rotissierie chicken and cottage cheese for all! As Eddie in National Lampoon’s Vacation would say, “Nothin’ but the best….”

6. David told me today that he feels this blogging thing is the perfect hobby for me because it enables my OCD to thrive. I have “thriving” OCD? I do believe I’ve been insulted.

Earlier this week I posted one of my favorite stories in recent memory, G-Master’s tale of his mother faking his father’s death in order to get a phone call from his sister. After much introspection and, I feel, some degree of prayer, G-Master decided that perhaps he had not adequately explained why his mother would go to such extreme measures and thus had portrayed her in a negative light. He emailed me to ask if he could perhaps provide a little backstory for us.

I think you will find that the following anecdote serves, in large part, to make the fake-death-in-church-bulletin story all the richer. And this one is a little gem in and of itself.

“Late last year, my sister and brother-in-law were having a bit of cash flow difficulty and were late on a few bills (cable, power, mortgage, etc.). Anyway, the two of them decided that the best course of action would be to cook up a get-rich-quick scheme. To wit, they formulated the following plan for themselves:

1. Hire a babysitter for their three children for the weekend.
2. Rent a car (You heard right! Three kids and they don’t own an operational car).
3. “Temporarily” exchange their wedding rings for cash at a local pawn shop.
4. Drive the rental car to Las Vegas and win thousands of dollars with their new bankroll.

The most unusual part of this story, to me, is that their plan only had four elements, and they actually managed to accomplish the first three, which statistically made this one of their most successful endeavors to date.

That’s ironic.

So, babysitter in place, car rented, and jewelry hocked, the two set sail from Denver to Las Vegas. By the way, they got a really good deal on the rental car by signing the in-state-use-only rental agreement on a car they planned to drive from Denver, Colorado to Las Vegas, Nevada. Nice.

Some hours later, they were about 60 miles beyond the Nevada state line when their rental car hit a deer, killing the deer and sending the car into a ditch, rendering the vehicle inoperable.

Stop the tape right here, and ask yourself: “What would my next move be?”

See if your decision matches theirs.

Upon determining that their rental car could not be restarted and that no other vehicles were near enough to have witnessed the accident, my sister and her husband left the scene and walked approximately one mile to a small-town gas station they had passed just before hitting and killing the deer. The two lovebirds then purchased bus tickets back to Denver, and early the following morning hired a taxi to take them to their house.

They arrived home, relieved the baby-sitter of her duties, and – get this – went to sleep, because they were “just too freaked out by everything.” When they awakened, they promptly called the rental company and reported that the rental vehicle was missing and “possibly stolen.”

Details since the night in question have been tough to come by, but reports out of Colorado indicate that both my sister and bother-in-law have since retracted their story about the vehicle being stolen, and, to my knowledge, have managed to avoid any serious criminal charges. What remained of their Vegas trip cash pool was just enough to cover the deductible on the insurance they purchased at the rental agency as well as the additional charge for driving the vehicle out of state.

My father paid their mortgage and bills for the month in question for the sake of the grandchildren only (his words).

The pawn shop still has the rings.

So if you have been asking yourself why a woman would fake her husband’s death to get her daughter to call home, this story may provide some insight.

Have a fine weekend.
G-Master”

Since the four Tylenol Allergy Sinus pills I’ve taken over the course of the day have done nothing to diminish the pulsing vise of pain and pressure on the left side of my face, I would like to receive some combination of the following unconventional, yet undoubtedly effective, treatments:

1. drilling a hole in the left side of my nose
2. smashing a rock into my left eye socket
3. slicing off the left side of my nose
4. puncturing openings underneath my left eye with an anvil
5. removing my left eye altogther

I feel that any of these options are desirable in that they would enable me to relieve All The Pressure.

OH! One more option: ripping my sinuses from my nasal cavity.

Any volunteers?

Several things as a follow up to the earlier HGTV post and a segue into a discussion of Food Network:

Mission Organization is highly entertaining – again, it’s a look at how other people live, and if this show is any indication, there are a great many Americans living in bedrooms where they can’t get to the bed and in living rooms where they can’t sit down. Fascinating. Decorating Cents is too crafty for me. As I mentioned in the comments on the earlier post, I don’t want to take a fence post and turn it into a paper towel holder. I’d rather by a paper towel holder that, you know, works.

Moving on.

I love to cook, and as a result, I also enjoy Food Network. I’ve written before about Paula Deen…and what’s so funny to me is that while one might think that my mama would also love Paula Deen, she doesn’t. In fact, when she was here last week and I was watching Paula’s show, Mama mocked her. MOCKED HER. At first it caught me off-guard, but then I realized what was going on: Mama is a wonderful cook in general, a wonderful Southern cook in particular, and I think she feels like Paula has stolen a little bit of her thunder. Mama went on and on about how Paula’s recipes weren’t any good and implied that Paula’s accent was fake and basically did everything she could to try to burst my Paula bubble. I wanted to tell Mama that it’s not a competition :-) – that the fact that I like Paula doesn’t mean that I like my mama’s cooking any less, but I thought better of it and just let Mama rant. Regardless of Mama’s feelings, I will continue to TiVo Paula’s show.

Now, what I’m about to say may be the subject of some controversy, especially if book sales are any indication, but I’m going to put it out there anyway: Rachael Ray grates on my last nerve, and yes, I got the food pun. I’m sure she’s a lovely, optimistic person. Lord knows she’s loud. But she talks in too many abbreviations for me.

She will say something like, “Okay, guys, before we get started we need to grab some onions and olives from the fridge, and I’ll get the mayo, too, because we’re going to combine it all with some EVOO* in the pan, and you will want to eat it 24/7, I promise you. Because it’s DELISH, guys – it really is!”

*EVOO = extra virgin olive oil. Isn’t that obnoxious?

In short, she makes me want to throw things. And she makes lots of hot sandwiches. And when she tastes her final product, she rolls her eyes and nods, like she’s thinking, “Oh yeah, RACH – that rocks!”

Okay – I have to shut up now because I’m supposed to be somewhere at 3:30 – but I welcome any additional thoughts in the comments.