frosted grumpy flakes

I was asked today if I had a bowl of frosted grumpy flakes this morning.

No. There was nothing sugar coated about my grumpy flakes. Nothing at all.

I do wish I could keep my grumpy flakes to myself, but I have to share them with everyone around me. They don't deserve it, generally. But I must have gotten a "VG" in sharing when I was in Kindergarten, and have maintained the skill all this time. (VG = Very Good - there were no "Excellent's", or I would have been insulted by the "VG")

The project I was hired for around 2 and 1/2 years ago has a new timeline. What was supposed to happen in 2006 and 7 is now scheduled for 3/2009. EARLIEST. Truth is, if I could maintain a level of busy-ness with projects that are really worthwhile in the meantime, I might not mind that much. But I've been pretty much doing the goofy things that others don't have time for, and it's just demoralizing. There's a reason they don't have time to do it.

But I digress. The thing that's really eating me is that we had some tasks to do so that a determination about when our facility fits in with other facilities in this timeline could be determined. We barely had forms in hand before the timeline is published with my facility dead last. The information from our site isn't even due until the end of next month. So these decisions were made, once again, without any input from us. That just makes me bring out the grumpy flakes more than anything else. And we are STILL being pressed to the deadline even though the information we will provide will pretty much be completely different by the time we get going on the project. So, we'll have to do it again. And *someone* will wonder why we did it so early in the first place.

I hate corporate life.

So, I had a birthday yesterday. I am obliged to have one every year, as I was not born on February 29. I used to LOVE birthdays, everyone's, not just my own. I don't remember when that stopped. Admittedly, I have passed most major milestones people pass in life, but hopefully, I've got a few left. Having a 3 year old in the house makes birthdays simply magical - so why am I so "bah humbug" about them lately?

My theories:

Once or twice, I had to bake my own birthday cake. And once, my whole family completely forgot about it. (I know, somebody call me a waahmbulance.)

I did not inherit the shopping gene from my mother the super-shopper, so I don't get to stores to see things I would necessarily like or like to buy others.

My DH doesn't have a shopping gene either - he doesn't really get into the whole buy presents for people thing, so I'm never quite sure if I'm going to get a gift or not. I don't want to look forward to a gift and be disappointed, but really, I don't require one, so it would be ok. But he will either cook dinner for me or we'll go out to dinner, so I'm always sure we'll eat. (I have stopped making my own cakes. I really don't need the extra calories...) Oh, but back to the DH - when he buys jewelry, people, he buys WONDERFUL jewelry!

DH, again, likes Christmas much better than birthdays, so "big" presents must happen at Christmas. I *was* always a birthday person, believing that celebrating the day someone important to you was born was a whole lot more special.

DH and I have birthdays two months apart. We sandwich 3 children, Thanksgiving, Christmas, nearly uncountable other relatives' birthdays inbetween. By the time we get to mine, I'm done! Now that we have little K, I have to stretch that to February (sandwiching in yet another 5-6 extended relatives). It's the ultimate effort to make it special for her, so I would just as soon skip mine.

I have somehow only gotten through to my oldest daughter that I really like cards and homemade stuff. She's good at it. Oldest son will get kind of extravagant with money he doesn't have, and younger one just doesn't remember.

*** Big K reminded me of this one - my birthday was ALWAYS during finals week (as it is for him right now), from Jr High clear through college. That shouldn't matter to me anymore because jeez, that was a hella long time ago, but when I think about it, that DID suck!


OK - now the good news. There were at least 3 people at work wishing me a happy birthday. One friend left a nice card, another brought me a card on Friday, just in case I was taking both Monday and Tuesday off! And my l'il sis and da boys came to have lunch with me and visit my work friends. She is a scrapper phenominal, and made me the greatest personalized Starbucks tumbler ever! (She made one for B for her birthday that I totally coveted and drooled over. I think she got the hint!) I got some roses and some walking shoes (which was really not expected because I got my iPod and speakers for Christmas!) and my big sis, who is always prompt about these things, sent a really cute jacket, tshirt and a RED appliance for my kitchen! (I am TOTALLY into red appliances these days). So lest you think I am not loved or am feeling sorry for myself, let me disavow you of that opinion. I am really one lucky sucker.

That said, I am still a birthday curmudgeon. But I'm giving myself one week before I get myself in gear to celebrate #4 for Missy K.

***Take My Advice, people - SUMMER birthdays are GOOD! Plan your children accordingly. That summer pregnancy won't last, but birthdays will!***

National De-Lurking Week?

I've read in many blogs now that it's national de-lurking week.

Whatever. Who makes up these terms? It's a little freaky out there in the blogosphere. (see - there's another one of those terms... scary!)

I can't imagine there are more than a handful of people who visit this site with any regularity, and I can't imagine why those handful do, frankly, except that some are related to me! I don't blogroll (yet another), or join any webrings (and more!) or anything. This is not a crafty, knitty (who used "knitty" before blogs?), political, witty, medical, even mommy, or any kind of blog, really... just a piece of a bunch of them, which I guess pretty much sums me up too.

I am amused at the searches leading to this site, though - "help with teenage stepdaughters" was last week's stumper.

Well - if you're out there and feel like saying Hi, it'd be nice. (Hey, I'm the one who will NEVER send your chain letter along, so I'm not gonna coerce anyone here...) I'm gonna be awfully surprised to get more than one or two comments. But let's just give it the old college try anyway. Hi all - anyone out there?

Why do guys get all the fun stuff?

ok manufacturers - get going on the female version of this! I got an iPod for Christmas and birthday (sometimes it DOESN'T suck to have a birthday close to Christmas) this year and I love it! 'course, pulling it out to share my videos and pictures might be a little interesting...

banned words and phrases

Lake Superior State (who'd have thunk?) put out their 2006 list of banned words and phrases. One of these days, "thunk" is going to be on it.

I keep forgetting, but I really want to submit "I can help who's next" to be banned. "I can help the next person in line"; "Next"; "Who's next?" - all viable alternatives. Even for a grammar and sentence structure shortcutter like myself, that sentence grates.

and btw - Happy New Year!

Strange things to do for strange reasons (a.k.a. confessions from a guilty person, and a little snitching, too)

1. I sometimes throw my candy wrapper away in someone else's garbage can.
(what I think/say)....because I'm just passing by and need somewhere to throw the garbage.
(confessing) .... so the cleaning team won't know I eat the darn stuff (or maybe how much)?

2. I scour the town to buy gas for 2 cents cheaper.
.... because I'm a smart consumer.
.... because I'm cheap. The irony of spending $1 to save $1 isn't lost on me, however that knowledge doesn't seem to stop the behaviour. Nor does it matter that I'll spend $1 anytime for nearly any kind of junk, but it's important to save that 2 cents x 17 gallons!
.... I won't, however, only fill my tank 1/3 full in order to make it to a town with cheaper gas. (DH will)

3. I count how many times my DH and I have dropped off or picked up little K during the week.
.... because I like that we share these duties.
.... I want to make sure I'm always at least one ahead. Keeps the balance tipped in my favor! for what? dunno.

4. I cut teeny little slivers of brownies from the pan instead of cutting out a square or rectangle piece.
.... because it tastes better that way!
.... so no one will know there isn't exactly as much as there was before. I don't think I'm really fooling anyone. The brownies have a strange way of shrinking that I don't think goes unnoticed.

5. I learned to like iced tea.
.... I wanted to drink less soda.
.... because it was the only drink with "refills" for quite a while. (see confession for #2) Now it's more a habit. I always order iced tea with my dinner. But at home, I drink milk.

6. DH has to buy the biggest drink and biggest popcorn when we go to movies.
.... it's the most economical (if you can use that word about theatre goodies) buy there.
.... because he can refill them for free! And he absolutely HAS to refill them, regardless of whether or not we really want more.

What are the little quirky things you do and rationalize to yourself?

politeness run amok

As my l'il sis and family are going to spend Christmas with his family up in the Northwest (where they'll be able to at least get together with my big sis & family too), we had our Christmas celebration last weekend at her house. Our 3 year olds are so incredibly different, but they do get along fine, thankfully! Mine goes around discovering toys she doesn't have and pretty well creating a toyful mess everywhere, but quietly and sometimes on her own. She also travels the house to find other treasures. L'il Sis' 3 year old wants to share his every thought with you (and he has a LOT of thoughts!). To help him in this matter, they have worked with him on "Excuse Me" rather than interrupting.

It's a good thought.

In reality, it's created this hilarious repetitive sequence where you will undoubtedly be chatting with someone and an insistent little "e'scuse me, E'scuse me, E'SCUSE ME!" comes along. So everyone stops and either listens to his wisdom (and this 3 year old does have some) or watches as he jumps or breakdances for our enjoyment. When he's done, we all congratulate him and go back to chatting. ...when a little insistent "e'scuse me, E'Scuse Me, E'SCUSE ME!" happens again. You get the picture. Actually, it's really not nearly as irritating as it might sound, though, because he truly is a funny kid. But it's clear there are some drawbacks to teaching politeness.

We tried getting him to add an "Auntie R" or "B" to his e'scuse mes, so we would know he was trying to get our attention, but it wasn't terribly important to him who responded, so that effort fell flat on its face.

Another drawback. When you call him now, he answers, "yah, what?" Which seems strange except... think of how you would respond to "e'scuse me, E'Scuse Me, E'SCUSE ME!". You'd respond, "Yes (or yeah), what?" He hears it all the time. Completely reasonable. Makes him sound a little like he's from Minnesota though - the "yah, what" has that drawn out "yaaaah" you hear up there. He also answers "yah, yah, yah" or "no, no, no" to Y/N questions. Put your best Minne-sewww-tan accent on for those and you've got it.

I wonder if it's a "first child" thing - my oldest used to do that kind of thing all the time. The others, not so much, although miss drama queen herself would just break out in song whenever she felt there was an audience available... kind of similar. But current 3 yr old would never dream of attracting everyone's attention to herself. Mostly personality, I think, but interesting just the same.

I love this age.

I'm surrounded by

GERMS!

Now normally, I'm not terribly germaphobic. I don't get terribly excited about germs. I think people who take great pains to avoid the little buggers generally get a whole lot sicker when they get caught by those microbial pests than those of us who just take normal precautions. There's something to be said for building immunity, I think. I don't even get all frantic when wee ones pick stuff up from the floor and immediately put it in their mouth. In fact, I sometimes have to remember that most people are not as laid back as I am about this stuff, and try to remind myself to act more concerned. I cheerfully watched my darling little nephew try to wrap his little mouth around a golfball without batting an eye until I saw the horrified look on my sister's face. "Oh yeah", I said, "He probably shouldn't do that." as I distract him with another ball and extract the nice sort of clean one from his grasp.

That said, my office is infested with coughs, raspy voices, sneezes and all around miserableness. As I do not have my Christmas shopping done yet, I do not appreciate this proximity with microbes. Like I'm not going to be surrounded by them every time I step into Wal-Mart. (just kidding - don't go walmart on me ok? BTW - Have you noticed that walmart can be used as a verb, sort of in place of the word "postal", which seems to have fallen out of favor, what with the crazies showing up more at fast food places and high schools instead of post offices these days. I digress, but actually, I'm interested to know if anyone really knows the definition of "going walmart". I can tell it's negative, but beyond that, I'm a little fuzzy.)

Back to the point. I think the nasty little buggers have figured it out so that I will stay nice and healthy right up until the holidays. Then, when I have a few days off, I'll get hit with the creeping crud and be flat on my back instead of enjoying the festivities. So - I figure I'd better party now, eat all the goodies and enjoy myself, cuz who knows what's coming. Yep, that's what I'm gonna do!

Tis the season!

btw - thanks to detstar for having a picture I could borrow! (I may not love those viruses, but I love Dr. Mario....)

If wishing could make it so...

1. I could write something and not have a much better way to say it the day after I've posted.

2. I would have the confidence to get my master's degree. I just don't know what I would do with it.

3. My children would all be sufficiently driven to success that I would not have to do the driving.

4. I would be able to work and still take in more foster children.

5. My kids would ALL find their niche and be truly happy in their lives.

6. I would have come up with an idea like Threadbared. (Congrats on the book offer, dudettes!)

7. My extended family would live in close enough proximity to see each other frequently, but not so close that it becomes a chore. There are really only 2 members of our family close by anymore, and while I'm thankful for them, that's just not enough!

8. I could find the way to let go of others' trials and challenges.

9. I would always know the right thing to do with teenagers.

10. I would make lots more wishes!

Quarter of a Century ago (warning, boring birth story coming)

This little boy was born. It was a chilly morning at the end of November. We had been doing a lot of walking, because that's what pregnant women like to do along with eating super spicy pizza, in the hopes that one of those old wives tales will actually work for them and get this whole whale episode of life over. Most women, after being pregnant for 9 months or more are REALLY ready to deal with labor, just for the ability to put those baby pounds down in an infant seat for an hour or so. I can't recall anyone that I knew wishing they could stay pregnant "just a little longer".

Anyway, I felt some contractions around noon, but didn't think much of it. They became regular around 6-8 pm and we alerted my sister, who was going to lend some support to this whole process, but we stayed home. And DH went to sleep. I still marvel at that. There was no sleep for me, however, and I just sat there all night timing those crazy sqeezy things happening to me. It took FOREVER for them to get closer than 5 minutes apart.

Went to the hospital finally around 5:30 am, after asking DH to please wake up. Nurse's name was Mony. ("Moan-y") She had a cohort, but all I can remember is that we called her Groan-y. I'm sure she had another name, but I sure don't remember it. We had our sack of important things, and we pulled the backgammon game out to pass some time. Moany and Groany decided that if I was comfortable enough to play backgammon, I was too comfortable to be there. OK - so I'm supposed to make noise or cry, or MOAN and GROAN??? (ha ha...) We were suitably chastised and put the damn game away. One or both of them attached the monitor and decided that I wasn't kidding about having contractions, so they let me stay. Back then, it was the thing to have "natural" childbirth - no drugs, no epidural, just really good lamaze techniques. So I focused on something, did my breathing, whatever and finally decided I would really appreciate one of those pain shots they'd offered me 20 times and my DH had politely and then not-so-politely refused. (at my request made when I was several days or maybe weeks pre-labor, so should never have been listened to, I should add...). Turns out they decided it was too close to delivery now, so no, you can't have anything anymore. What kind of logic is that? Am I going to pass it to my baby MORE right before I give birth than I would have a couple of hours prior?
So, after some pleading on my part, I got "1/2 a shot". Honey, a shot is a shot. But the 1/2 part is probably to be believed, because there was absolutely NO RELIEF from the damn thing. Really totally not worth the pain of the shot.

At 12:35 pm, our firstborn, M, joined the world. Bullet headed, but still obviously the most beautiful baby ever born. We got lucky and got the "family birthing center" so that all of us could stay together all night. (I really loved that part.) And the next day, we all went home. Again, back in the day of 24 hour stays. I liked that part too, I may be a nurse, but I truly hate hospitals and will always opt to go home early. I am a really crappy patient. Because I know best and I know that I know best. I'm quite sure it's mutual - they're pretty happy to see me gone, too.

Thus starts the next 25 years of joy, wonder, and a whole lot more than a few challenging times. But that's another post.

Happy Birthday, M. We love you.

Baby Fix

We spent a beautiful week with family in sunny Arizona. With an 8 week old and an 8 month old, even little K got her baby fix.

...and she LOVES babies.

There is so much to be thankful for this year.

My sisters and I have all had an addition to the family in one way or another. Yay for 2005.

Happy Thanksgiving 

I'm Just Wild About Harry

I am on disc 16 of 17 of the latest HP audio book. Yes, I've already read the book, but this guy reading it - he's incredible! Jim Dale has won a well earned Grammy for his work on this series. They're an enjoyable commute pasttime book after book. Every time a disc ends I groan. I mean, a loud "aaaawwww" (as in "aw shucks" y'know), whether there's someone to hear me or not. I just don't want it to be over because that means I'm one disc closer to being finished. Most books, this is a good thing - it means we're at the exciting part and soon to move on to something else. For some reason, I have a really hard time letting go of Harry. But very soon I will be done with this book. again.

The good news? The #4 movie (Goblet of Fire) opens on Friday! And since #4 is my favorite year/book so far, I am appropriately jazzed. Who knew I'd be a such an ardent fan of a "children's" series at my age? I realize 7 is a LOT of books to write, especially with lengths of 700 pages, but jeez - do you think we can convince Ms. Rowling to just keep on going?

Red paint dots

We all got "pictures" with globs of red acrylic paint on white paper on our nightstands yesterday. It was very sweet - she didn't announce it or anything. The pictures were just there. It wasn't a problem except for Mr. Teen's, whose picture dripped on other papers and the white rug. He has a bit of a pink spot there now. Wish I knew how she found that paint...

btw, regarding last post, big sis has one word for me. Hormones.

jeeez, I wish.

Sweet and Sour

Maybe it's timing, maybe it's my age, but I am a GRUMP today (and yesterday, too. and maybe even the day before that...). Thank heavens there are sweet things in my life (see most recent post from dear, darling, thoughtful, thankgodforjustabouteverythingexceptthatyearshewas15, daughter) because otherwise I'd rival Maxine for attitude.

Yesterday was an election day. My DH and I actually do NOT speak of whether or not we voted. It is the biggest secret ever - why? BECAUSE WE WANT THE OTHER ONE TO FORGET!! If we both vote, we pretty much always cancel each others' votes out. So it's 7 pm-ish when I vote, polls close at 8. I sign in and think "Yay - he hasn't signed yet, so he's probably forgotten". I do this sneakily when I know he's busily occupied elsewhere. There is no, "Bye, honey, I'm going to go vote." in this house.

Feeling smart and maybe even a little cocky, I exercise my right to tell our guv where to shove...well that's another story, or rhyme, maybe. Maybe even a country song... Anyway, I stick that little ballot into this tricky little machine that looks a hell of a lot like a scanner to me and beat it out of there like a bat out of hell. No thank you, I do NOT want a sticker saying "I voted" because that just might REMIND a certain someone that it is an election day and I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. DO. THAT.

Later that evening, we've picked up a couple of pizzas to share at K's hockey playoffs and are lamenting the lack of parking places at the community center parking lot because, Hello, this is a polling place!, and I asked if he voted (knowing there is NO way on this earth he'll miss the hockey game to go run off and vote). But the answer is Yes. AAAAARRRGH! And I was SO CAREFUL! I told him I did, too. But he already knew, because of course, he has to sign in right below me.... I knew I should have kept my maiden name.

So we cancelled each others' votes out again. But the beauty is our dear guv got told where to shove it anyway. phew. Take that, you vote canceller, you!

Back to the grumpy stuff -

1. Why does every piece of clothing in the house HAVE to be freshly laundered and ready to wear EVERY DAY??? I think if you have enough clothes for a week, then you should only need to run the washer/dryer combo once a week. Daily laundering, besides being on the obsessive/compulsive side of normal, is a waste of water, soap and ecological resources. Weekly or even semi-weekly laundry - sensible, I think.

2. If you want to teach your child to do something, what SHOULDN'T you do? That which you want them to learn, right? Well, I've been on a campaign for a couple of months to get the teenager to learn that it takes just about 20 seconds to make a bed, and that he CAN, in fact, launder his own clothes in a satisfactory way. Two very good skills for a college bound kid to have. Sounds good, except that the bed frequently gets made in the teenager's absence (which is quite convenient if you're the kid), or if said teen has taken only 10 seconds on it and it looks a little shifty, sometime in the minute or two after child leaves for school, the bed transforms itself and looks amazingly nice. And strangely, the laundry basket for same teen is almost always mysteriously empty! Not that he doesn't contribute to the dirty laundry in this house because, oh my GOD the amount of laundry a teenager can produce is mind boggling - but these things fall into category of grump#1, where all dirty clothes MUST BE LAUNDERED IMMEDIATELY AND AVAILABLE TO WEAR AGAIN THE NEXT MINUTE BECAUSE I JUST DON'T KNOW WHY. I *swear* to you, we all have plenty of clean underwear.

3. The barking dog CANNOT get the hang of this move back to Standard Time. Why in the world do we have to monkey around with our clocks anyway? Off the subject... It's been a week or so now, and dog wakes up every morning between 5:30 and 6 and barks.
Dog: BARK! 5 second wait.
Dog: BARK! 5 second wait.
Dog: BARK! BARK! BARK!
Me: "SNICKERS, SHUT UP!"
5 minutes of quiet (just enough to get that dozing going)
Dog: BARK! 5 second wait.
Me: "That *&^^%# dog - I'm gonna kill her."
DH: "Go ahead. I won't tell anyone."
Dog: BARK! BARK!
Me: "SNICKERS, ***SHUT UP***! (can you tell I keep yelling louder - thereby waking not only me, but everyone in the house up)
Dog: BARK!
and I get up, mutter a lot, and go let the stupid animals outside. Meanwhile, I play a game or two of solitaire so that getting up so frikken early isn't a total loss.

I used to like dogs. I'm looking for someone to rescue a couple of beagles right now.

See - I'm grumpy. Leave me alone.

Wanna know how to

make your mother cry?

Call her and leave this message:

"Hi Mom. I've had a huge urge today to call you and tell you I love you. So I'm calling to tell you I love you! Love ya, B"

yep. sniffled all the way home.

Someone stole my idea!

Got this link from Amalah's blog -
http://www.nydailynews.com/news/gossip/story/330221p-281994c.html
I have oft lamented the look of the not-so-trim young things in those just-a-little-too-snug low-rise jeans, and have said the girls look a little like cupcakes or muffins spilling out over the jeans.

SOMEONE HEARD ME AND TOOK THE IDEA AS THEIR OWN!

Two people couldn't have come up with the same thing, could they?

Just for the record, I dislike the pants hanging off the boxered-butt a whole lot more. It amazes me to see a kid running across the street hanging onto his pants around his crotch so they don't fall down while he runs... Wait till they grow up and think back on THAT one! Parents, are you taking pictures??? Your grandchildren will LOVE you for it!

Glam up the breasts

Who knew? I've been doing it wrong all these years...

Milestones

My baby sister turned 40 yesterday. 40. pfff.

My sisters' birthdays have always had a more profound effect on me than my own. I've never gotten excited or bothered about any of the typical milestones. I didn't get a car on my 16th birthday, didn't even get a key. I didn't go out for drinks on my 21st birthday. In fact, my mother was in one of her silent angry modes and I got a box with an outfit in it shoved in my face without ceremony. My boyfriend was also angry at me and went to a party without me. If not for my little sister, who hadn't seen her 10th birthday yet, and to whom birthdays were still very important, I would have ignored that milestone completely. But that cute little face wanting more than anything else to sing "Happy Birthday" to me and see me blow out a candle remains etched in my mind as the one wonderful thing from that day.

25, a quarter of a century, was spent somewhere, doing something. Who knows. 30 was spent walking the floors all hours of the day/night with a little 2 week old screaming wiggly thing.

40 was a wonderful celebration with family in a beautiful setting near the beach in Santa Cruz, and 50 was spent in another celebration with sisters and niece getting my very first massage, facial and some other treatment with a fancy name. A wrap of some sort, I think. So it's not that they haven't been celebrated or special. It's just that other people get there before me, so it's really no big deal when I get there.

Older sister milestone birthdays are tough because it makes me realize and ponder the passage of time and it always amazes me that she's "so OLD" and looks so GOOD! And wherever she is, I know I'm headed there next! In reality, she hasn't even seen the top of the hill, let alone gone over to the other side. Numbers matter not.

Then there's baby sis. Every milestone is the end of something, and the realization that whatever milestone she hit, I hit it a VERY LONG TIME AGO! Maybe it's all part of the middle child thing, who knows - but I do know that my baby sister is in her 40s now and that's pretty weird. But it's been 40 well-lived years and I'm awfully happy the tumor my mother thought she had turned out to have red hair, dimples and a killer smile.

Happy birthday, "little girl" - Love you!!

spammers

some representative email subjects from today:
fw: seersucker cunning
fw: starfish synthesis
fw: ...
fw: carl cinnamon

Now admittedly, I'm an IT geek, so I know not to open these, but who in their right mind would respond to "seersucker cunning"? What could it be? How to wear seersucker surreptitiously? How to look especially smart whilst wearing seersucker? (Give up!) And supposedly, these things grab words from other emails in your box. Seersucker??? When have I last emailed about seersucker? OK, so NO. That's not it. And frankly, the seersucker and starfish subject lines make more sense than most of the ones I get, as far as normal words and grammar is concerned. (carl cinnamon????)
What I don't get is if these spammers want us to open their infected mail, why don't they just use real language and subjects that make sense? Until they wise up, I guess it's nice to have that heads up.

Sandtoy motoring anyone?!

have sticker, will travel

Apparently both dogs needed stickers.