Brad, Stop Making Me Feel Guilty!

Somewhere along the line Brad became Mr. Sensitive and remembers everyone's birthdays and sends presents and puts up touching tributes on his blog. Well I'm sick of it! You make me look bad. You know how I remember people's birthdays? I read your blog and then I send out a quick e-mail. So there, I've said it! (By the way, Happy Birthday to Ben K.)

I realized the other day that I don't know the date of my parent's anniversary. I think it might be in September. But I do know Anita and Dilip's anniversary, her birthday, his birthday, and their children's birthdays. I remember Anne Marie's birthday because it's Christmas Eve (easy) and Brad's birthday because it happened to be the day before our wedding reception thing and since that somehow related to me (IT'S ALL ABOUT ME) I can remember that. Other than that I know that Mandy's birthday is sometime in April like Evie's and I know the birthday's of my children, Ben, my parents and my sister. And I do a pretty good job forgetting some of those too. (Although I've been making a lot more "Hi, this is your birthday" phone calls since Brad's been making me feel guilty.)

But you can't fool me, Brad. I know your secret! You probably wrote all this down somewhere didn't you? Don't deny it! I know that's what you sensitive people do! You write it down on calendar like things and then when it gets close to happening you make your sensitive plans. Ha! Didn't think I knew, did you! Well, I hope everyone's happy with the efforts I make 'cause it's all from memory, baby! 100% my brain and my brain only! And I usually remember ahead of time and then forget when the actual day arrives, but it doesn't mean I don't care ... it just means I don't care as much as Brad.

I Have A Problem With Jars

I already knew I had grape jelly issues, but it's spread to peanut butter. Due to Evie's nearly intravenous need for peanut butter and jelly, we go through a lot of the stuff. But the jars of jelly are kind of deep and it gets annoying trying to scoop out that last little bit. Inevitably I end up opening a new jar with the understanding that I'll get back to that nearly empty jar later when I have more time to . . . scoop out jelly. I somehow never find time for that important work and the jelly jars start piling up in the fridge. Then Ben has to come along and point out the obvious--"Why the heck do we have 4 opened jars of jelly in the fridge?" I usually don't have an answer to this difficult question so he just groups them all together on one shelf until I can figure it out.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself because I've managed to keep the jelly down to one jar for at least a week or so. But then today I went to get the peanut butter and found this--



(I never realized what a stupid name "Peanut Delight" was until I saw so many at one time.)

My Lovely Assistant Moira Helped To Create This Photo

Ben hates it. I know it will give Brice the willies. And since I thrive on annoying those I love, I give you this picture of my feet.

Taking A Break

I can justify this posting right now even in the midst of having way too much to do because (*sniffle*) I just hurt myself. Who knew vacuuming could be so dangerous? There was blood and I had to put a band-aid on my finger. Yes, yes, I feel your pity emanating from the ether already.

So, la ti da, I guess I have to take a break.

Thanks to Anne, I would like to, ONCE AGAIN, address this misremembered family memory of the first time I came over to meet Ben's family. I was NOT, I repeat, WAS NOT wearing all black. I distinctly remember wearing overalls and a black shirt. I'm sure black shoes were involved but that does not an all black outfit make. I must admit that I was probably quite pale, but I fail to see how my skin color could have changed over the years. I'm sure you're just used to me by now and as small children were shocked at your first encounter with the melanin challenged.

Thanks to Lauren, I will now attempt to justify my Michael Jackson obsession. Forget that free will thing--it's all Tara Lauby's fault. MTV was doing a contest--make a video for Who Is It and if you won you got to go to Neverland Ranch for a week. So Tara convinced me (begged me) to help her and I eventually gave in. At this point I hadn't listened to Michael Jackson since elementary school and even then I didn't think he was that great. But I think there was something in that simmering peach potpourri at Tara's house, because I caught the Michael bug too. We mocked him, yet we loved him. She made me Michael mixes and it just went downhill from there. We would have long discussions on what year Michael crossed the line with the plastic surgery. We decided this was as far as he ever should have gone.I remember the two of us singing Jackson 5 songs while waiting in lines at Cedar Point. Why did anyone stay friends with us?

So I'll bet you're wondering if we won that contest. Well, we really had a chance but pedophilia won out. Below is the original high class prostitution video.



And the video that won was done by a professional (totally not fair) that involved bright sunny playgrounds and lots and lots of kids. Again, not fair.

I'd go into our elopement story for Lauren too, but after the Michael confession I'm emotionally exhausted.

Happy Anniversary To Us!

11 years, baby!
And we haven't matured at all.

It Was 1 A.M.

I was just drifting off to sleep when Ben let out a panicked gasp.

Me--What?!?

Ben--What if you were wearing leather shoes and you spilled milk on them?

Me--That would be a kosher conundrum! . . . Go to sleep.



This is my life.

I Was Tricked Into Idol Worship

This e-card from Avnish is just too adorable and interactive, I can't be held responsible. I love the music.

Soy Breakthrough!!!!

Turns out Moira's dislike of soy milk was a brand thing. Tried Silk and she likes it!!! Hallelujah! One down, one to go.

A Brief Feminist Rant

While sprinting through seasons of 24 something has become very clear--strong women must die, most strong women are evil, if you are a weak woman who needs saving then you will live, if you have a large chest then you will live. (And I love how these government jobs allow women to show plenty of boob at work. I can just imagine the interview process--"There's no dress code per se, but if you've got cleavage, you have a duty to your country to reveal as much as possible.")











= pathetic





So then we watch X-Men III. I have been so disgusted by these comic book hero crap movies. Spiderman saves pathetic screaming girlfriend. Superman saves pathetic screaming girlfriend. Batman saves pathetic screaming girlfriend. Going into the X-Men movie I was already complaining. "Let's see how the men can save the helpless women." Then I quickly repented--C'mon it's X-Men, not X-People mind you, but everybody has super powers and even the women get to kick butt. So I relaxed. But there it was again, that American subconscious view of powerful women as evil and good women saying "please save me, you big, big, hunk of a man, you."

I was never a comic book fan so this whole X-Men plot line is new to me but... you have Jean Grey who is a woman and who is also the most powerful mutant of all. BUT Jean Grey cannot control her powers (probably because she's a woman) and must be kept under mind control by Professor Xavier (because he's a man) or she'll destroy everything (because she's a woman). But eventually she loses it and becomes, SURPRISE, evil. Powerful women are evil 'cause if you don't need savin' by a man, honey, you are Satan's spawn. But everything is set right at the end because (*sigh of relief*) she has a moment of "clarity" and gets to say, and I quote, "Save me" to Wolverine who then KILLS her to save the world. Save me. SAVE ME! "I am the most powerful thing on the planet, please save me from my evil feminine self."

So, once again, we get a healthy dose of the chauvinist axiom--powerful women are evil, powerful women must die, good women ask to be saved by men.

Excuse me while I gag.

And while I'm at it--In Star Wars, why the heck does Anakin get to remain completely covered in his Jedi robes while most of the time Padme has to wear as little as possible including the oh so tasteful leather top bondage outfit complete with garrotte scarf?


Just wondering.

Well, Well, Well--Another Random, Meaningless Post

Feeling a little dirty right now. For approximately 58 hours I did not consume any coffee.

(Ha! I went looking for a Home Alone-esq photo to visually demonstrate the shock that everyone should feel when reading the aforementioned statement, but I stumbled upon this. Ha! again.)
Back to that coffee thing. After being forced to watch The Corporation by my reality obsessed husband and being horrified by Bovine Growth Hormone (God damn Monsanto, the FDA and the United Dairy Council!), milk was banished from our home. Unfortunately soy milk in coffee tastes like shit...ake mushrooms. So does non-dairy creamer which, oddly enough, contains dairy. ??
INGREDIENTS: Corn Syrup Solids, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean and/or Canola Oils, Sodium Caseinate, (a milk derivative), Dipotassium Phosphate, Mono and Diglycerides, Artificial Colors, Silicon Dioxide, Lecithin, Articial Flavors.

So today we went out and got organic milk so my spoiled self could suck down my little addiction. I was horrified to watch how much of the precious, over-priced stuff went into my cup. That was milk my soy hating children could be drinking. Bad mother.

Speaking of bad mothers, I can't wait to see Running With Scissors!



And on the education front--Moira read An Inconvenient Truth . . . before I did. She especially enjoyed the childhood anecdotes. Al Gore--that little devil! I guess I'll have to hurry up and read it so we can have a nice mother-daughter climate dialogue.

Movie Recommendation

I don't know why but a)I have had nothing profound to say in weeks and b)I'm really in the mood to see Bella Martha. It's one of my favorite movies and, in my opinion (which is all that counts), absolutely perfect. The only thing that could possibly mar the perfection is the fact that a soundtrack was never released, at least not that I can find. Last year I searched all over these German websites and made Ben translate and all we discovered was that a bunch of other people were searching for the non-existent soundtrack too. But I eventually found the song I really wanted--Via Con Me and discovered the brilliance of Paolo Conte in the process.

If you haven't seen the movie, but have seen the cover or a preview, please ignore them. They try to make it look like some steamy romance over pasta movie which really does it a great injustice.



= bad.





Oh, and the movie is in German with English subtitles. The real title is Bella Martha but I think the English release got slapped with the Mostly Martha title. Another dumb move.

Quick plot summary: Martha is a top chef, neurotic in life and a bit ocd when it comes to food. Her sister dies and she's left to take care of her niece, a job she sucks at, until they can find the girl's father. Then comes along a threatening new chef who's Italian and loves life and starts to turn everything upside down, but, of course, it's in a good way.

You know I just realized why I want to see this movie--we recently saw Raising Helen and I think I might be craving a non-cheesy yet heartwarming version of the parents-die-and-unequipped aunt-must-take-care-of-kid story.

By the way, watching Raising Helen made us really think about how we need to get together a will. So anyone who would like to volunteer for the right to raise our adorable children in the event of our untimely demise can begin posting resumes on your blogs.

There's this scene in Raising Helen when she walks into her sister's bedroom after the funeral and I realized that I need to clean my house better (remember when I had that all under control?) because if we did meet our untimely demise in a car accident, people would have to come to our house and take care of things and they would be absolutely horrified by the state of the bedrooms and upstairs bathroom, not to mention the laundry area. I would be dead, but I would also be SO embarrassed.

Some YouTubery

Evie has an imaginary friend who has recently become blind. Rather than being a sad event it has become a source of inspiration for little Evie. Below is her attempt to eat peas while blind. For some reason this also affects the way she chews. Perhaps all blind people chew in an exaggerated fashion, I don't know. (She has a few moments of miraculous healing whenever she needs to actually find the peas, but I think she's pretty successful in chewing blindly. And please excuse the half finished play dress she's wearing.)



The following clip from I Heart Huckabees is for Faith. Hopefully you'll be able to get to a computer where you can view it.

I Will Preface This By Saying That I Am All For Non-Violence But ...

...this bit from Kill Bill volume 2 has to be one of my favorite movie scenes of all time.

To Answer Jessica's Question

The Randomness of Life

So we went to a birthday party for one of Evie's little friends at church. The only thing I knew about this family was that they looked liked they homeschooled. So I headed out with more than a little trepidation. This was Friday and since Tuesday I'd called off school and spent most of the week drinking white wine and watching the Royal Tenenbaums too many times. Why is that movie so comforting? Blissful dysfunction. I don't think a well balanced person watches Wes Anderson films and let out a sigh that says "Ah, I'm home." For me Tenenbaums isn't a laugh out loud kind of movie just deeply satisfying. In fact, the only scene that makes me laugh out loud is the one where Anjelica Huston tells Danny Glover she's nervous because she hasn't slept with a man in 18 years. They're both so giddy and adorable that I always have to rewind to watch it again. Needless to say, I wasn't in the best state for social interaction, but with strangers I can fake it all too well. Smile on? Check. Helpfulness? Check. Boundless energy for playing with children? Check.

We were the last ones there since I believe being on time is tacky and being early is downright detestable. (Actually I've only recently created that philosophy in order to soothe my guilty conscience for always being late.) When I walked in I thought we'd arrived at the Aryan Homeschoolers Association. Blondes in dresses abounding. No, they were very, very nice. But I'm a jerk and feeling alienated just brought that out even more. There were just too many white little girls that looked the same. I wanted to scream, "WHERE IS THE DIVERSITY?!?" Evie really stood out since she was wearing pants and had short, bordering on brown hair. I really stood out because I was wearing jeans and a sweater. When the other mothers came to pick up their kids (I was the only mom who stuck around--like I'm going to leave my kid with strangers) they were all dressed in long skirts with head coverings and homeschooled kids in tow. But they were very kind not to look at me like I was a freak. Can't wait till I get that nose ring.

Going home I experienced the same euphoria I had when leaving South Carolina. I'm such a jerk.

Later that night was the funeral. I promised myself I wouldn't cry--ha! ha! that really worked. I also promised myself I wouldn't go up to see the body--that promise I kept. (Why do I want that to be the way I remember seeing someone for the last time? I've broken my promise not to walk up to the casket too many times and then really regretted it.) The service was beautiful and I found myself wishing even more that I'd gotten to know her better. It was more like I knew the friends and family that surrounded her rather than her as a person. But even then her illness and death totally threw me. And now we take on the task of being there for our friends who's grieving will go on for a long time. My friend Sue has lost her best friend, Evie's little friend has lost his mom, and Ben's friend has lost his wife.

I loved the memories people shared. Like the one when her husband told her that wool came from sheep and cotton came from lambs and she was okay with that. And he said that along with having the responsibility of informing countless friends and family about her death, he was also going to have to tell the cashier at the Dollar Tree, the loud lady that worked at Sam's Club, the guy at Skyline Chili, etc., etc., etc. She made friends wherever she went because, despite her lack of knowledge about agriculture or her horrible sense of direction, she excelled when it came to people. When talking to someone she gave them her complete attention like they were the only person on the planet. I want to be like that.

And since I've been watching too many movies lately, I would like to apologize for what I said about Daryl Hannah. I loved you in Kill Bill volumes 1 and 2. I'm sorry, hon.

This Morning

Brandi died.


Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.
~Mourner's Kaddish

Two Posts I Love

From Faith.

From Lauren.

Radical Environmentalism--It's Not All Tofu and Biking To Work

We're wrapping up our science study on energy, force, simple machines, blah, blah, blah. Today we did a recap of everything and I found myself reading this aloud to Moira--

"It is very important that we learn how to use energy carefully. . . If we use less energy, there will be less pollution. The precious fossil fuel supplies will last a lot longer."
--Energy: Get Moving by Wendy Sadler

But this is stupid. Don't people realize that the longer we act out this namby pamby pseudo environmentalism the longer we'll be dependent on fossil fuel? Don't people realize that scientists don't invent new technology and governments don't implement said technology until there's a crisis.

So I propose a new kind of radical environmentalism--use up the fossil fuel as fast as possible. We should do everything we can to waste energy. Instead of walking next door to see your neighbor, you should re-park your car closer to their door and then get out and knock. We should leave all the lights on all the time. Run the air conditioner and the heat at the same time in order to balance everything to 70 degrees. (Maybe this isn't possible right now, but we can work on it.) We should run our appliances even when we don't need to. If the noise of the blender gets to be too much, you can just turn up the stereo and the tv which should already be on anyway.

This kind of treehugging will really get things done. Create a crisis that will demand change! Necessity is the mother of invention and if those scientists wake up one morning to find that OOPS! overnight the whole world ran out of fossil fuel and they need to make a fire from sticks to boil water they collect from outside to make the coffee they have to grind with a hammer, they'll get their butts in gear. So let's get to work and use up that energy in order to inconvenience the scientists and world leaders into action.

And I am officially no longer mocking the people with environmental stickers on the bumpers of their SUVs. I'm just embarrassed I didn't recognize the TRUE radicals.

Ella's Baptism And The Strange Victorian Malady That Did NOT Occur

So we went to Ben and Julie's church to see little Isabel baptized last night. I really enjoyed all the liturgy--I'm soooo liturgy starved lately. But while I was sitting there during the service I realized something strange--I didn't get dizzy when I walked into their church.

This sounds strange (no, it just is strange) but when I walk into older churches I swoon just a bit. It's not like I fall on the floor or anything, but once in a while it's bad enough that I have to stop and get my bearings. It's a very particular feeling that I only get when walking into older churches. (Except for the one time I got it when walking into the prop/costume closet in high school.) It starts right behind the eyes and my vision goes a little blurry and my head feels woozy. It's almost like being assaulted with a sudden memory--so strong it makes you dizzy. Like a powerful flashback without the actual flashback part. This isn't making sense.

I can remember this happening ever since I was very small. Every summer we were forced to attend Vacation Bible School at my babysitter's church and every time I walked into that place--Whoa.

Now, I've been dizzy for other reasons--low iron, using rubber cement or inhaling too much Raid, etc., but this is not the same kind of dizzy. So one might think that perhaps this is evidence of my possession by evil.But, no, this does not occur every time I walk into a church, see a cross or smell garlic--just old churches. Maybe it's because I was raised in a massive modern church and have some subliminal fear of old churches or maybe most old churches have some sort of floor wax or carpet smell or . . . I don't know, but I have to stop writing about this because I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it.

Anyway, it was nice to see Ben, Julie and Isabel. I love Julie's parents. Grace Central Presbyterian is a very nice church AND their building does not make me dizzy.

The End.