With A Name Like That, He Better Be Good

Check out one of the best blog posts I've read in ages. The guy is not only a great writer, but is obviously also quite perceptive.

(He's also not above whoring his blog. And neither am I -- add Wide Right to your "must visits" every day.)

P.S. Here's a little history on my second favorite actor in LA (after Leo, of course). And a little more, just for good measure.

I'm Only Going To Worry If He Asks If The Wings Make His Butt Look Big

On Friday, we're driving to a resort a few hours away for a "Princesses and Pirates" themed weekend. (For AVERY, not for us -- get your minds out of the gutter. We wouldn't have to drive any further than Ashburn if it was for us...)

Tim was trying to plan a little getaway for us when he found this and immediately made reservations knowing that our resident pink freak would be pretty excited. (This from a guy who was convinced that he wanted a boy when I was pregnant.)

It is a well-timed excursion. We're currently going through preschool tours, refinancing our house, organizing our office, doing taxes, and handling lots of other tedious business.

Last night, I began packing for our two-night trip. The gear included three princess dresses, a pair of wings, a feather boa, two tiaras, two wands, two pairs of high heels, some long gloves, jewelry, and a princess cell phone. And that was just Tim -- I can only imagine how much stuff Avery will have. (I've got a million of 'em, folks!)

Hope you all have magical weekends, too.

Dinner Conversation

Me, to Avery, who is picking at what is quite obviously a piece of chicken stuck in her teeth that is making her uncomfortable: "Do you have some chicken stuck in your teeth?"

Avery: "No."

Me: "Well, then, what is stuck in your teeth?"

Avery: "Some hot soup."

Me: "Where did you get some hot soup?"

Avery: "From a stranger."

Things I Do To Amuse Myself

Schleprock

As I was ready to walk out the door this morning, I saw that Seamus had vomited in the dining room right near the dining table. I got some paper towels and bent down to clean it up, then stood up and hit my head so hard on the back of one of the chairs that I learned what "seeing stars" means. If this is some kind of a concussion and I have to be hospitalized, I'm making up a much more glamorous back story for my injury. Otherwise, it's like being the person in rehab for an addiction to wine coolers. So not cool.

When I regained my bearings, I went upstairs to turn off lights and pulled the chain on the light in the closet -- which promptly broke off in my hand. I came back downstairs and poured some orange juice for Avery which overshot the cup, getting juice all over my hand and the counter. When I got to work, I opened our power bill on line -- almost FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!!! This is more than $150 more than it has ever been.

I'd like the Friday the 13th dark cloud removed, please.

A Pinch of This And A Pat Of That

A few days ago, my friend, Lisa, sent me one of those ridiculous distribution "joke" e-mails. This one was titled, "Pampered Chef Party -- Important Information!!!"

(I never find any of these things funny, yet I feel compelled to open and look at them before deleting them. I also have to look through all of the catalogs I receive before I recycle them. Can someone explain this?)

Since I'm no longer a rookie in this rodeo we call parenting, can someone also explain why I chose to open this e-mail while Avery was sitting on my lap? The e-mail contained four photos of really attractive guys, totally naked except for a bowl, a cookbook, an apron or some other cooking accoutrement strategically placed to block their tackle (Euphemism provided by 15 Minute Lunch). And then it said, "Aren't you glad you opened this?" or something (I wasn't really focused by the time I got to the text...)

As soon as I realized what we were looking at, I tried to close the e-mail. However, Avery had already seen it and screamed, "Mom! I want to see the naked guys!" So, I let her see the pictures. And she thought they were hilarious. And she has asked to see "the naked guys" every day since. And I had some explaining to do when her father came home after being out of town for a few days...

Seeing Red

-Those NECCO conversation hearts taste like chalk. And not the delicious kind.

-I still love those little Valentine cards that we used to exchange as kids and that kids still exchange today. We'll be helping Avery address a bunch of these (the Disney princess variety) in the next couple of days.

-Canetto and I had a tradition of skiing on Valentine's Day for a few years. On one of these trips, we witnessed a couple having a massive fight. A man was screaming at a woman, "Where is it written that I have to like everything you like?" (Wouldn't it have been great if she pulled out a document, pointed, and said, "right here, in paragraph three of our relationship agreement.")

-I used to be the person who baked Valentine's cookies for the office or at least brought in candy. Now, I'm lucky if I remember my pants.

Since this holiday was tailor-made for my no-amount-of-pink-or-sparkles-or-hearts-or-candy-could-possibly-be-enough kiddo, we've made some plans to celebrate. On Friday, we're going to an art gallery in Vienna where they are having a special Valentine's Day exhibit and providing champagne and artisan chocolates. On Saturday, we're going to have a special dinner at home. ("Special" meaning one that Tim picks up so no one has to cook.) And of course, we've also bought the little bugger some candy and small gifts.

My mom tells me that Avery is what I always needed in my life, and I just didn't know it. I think she may be on to something.

XOXOXOXOXO,
Brutalism

Goin' All Tiger Beat On You

Let's talk about Leo's fine resume of films and how he has been snubbed by the Academy for a multitude of stellar performances. Actually, let's just look at this photo instead.

Weekend Trip

Aves and I were alone this weekend. Canetto was in Las Vegas with some friends for a few days. (I asked him for one favor while he was out there...and that was to stop by Yves Saint Laurent and find my VERY FAVORITE SHOES OF ALL TIME (pictured below).
(I love Canetto for approximately eight million reasons. Included in those are that he once bought a Kelly Clarkson CD for me because I was too embarrassed to take it to the counter at Tower. He said, "Really? You care what the sixteen-year-old kid working at the Tower register thinks of your musical taste?" And I was forced to admit that I did.) Another reason is that he actually went to YSL today with a printout of the picture of these shoes to ask about them. The woman there informed him that they are last year's shoes (which Canetto conveyed to me via a great voice mail message about how "gauche" he was asking about "last year's shoes"). However, the woman did provide him with the names and numbers of several discount houses that may have the shoes. I have not yet given up!

I bought the book "Beautiful Boy" by David Sheff and finished that in the wee overnight hours when I was not sleeping (because I simply do not sleep when Tim is out of town). I figure that when attempting to lull myself to sleep through reading, what better book than a father's account of his young son's descent into meth addiction? It's like the warm milk of memoirs, really.

Saturday, while I learned to play the didgeridoo with the Dilettantes, Avery spent the afternoon with (our neighbor and her former teacher) Esmat and Esmat's son at the park, then they made pizza. This morning, Avery and I had a play date with my friend, Amanda, and her daughter, Allison, at Clemyjontri (no, I have no idea how to pronounce it, either) park in McLean. We figured that as non-church-going heathens, we'd pretty much have the place to ourselves on this beautiful Sunday morning. Apparently, we give the inner northern Virginia burbs too much credit. We're all a bunch of Godless park-goers. The place was packed. And very fun. And served the purpose of wearing out the kiddos. We ended the play date with Happy Meals at McDonalds. Late this afternoon, while I was trying to take a nap, Aves leaned over, kissed my forehead, my nose and my cheek and said, "I love you, mommy, and I could hug you forever. Now go to sleep, Kathleen." Of course, I burst out laughing and never fell asleep (nor did she). This evening has been a long one...

UPDATE: THE SHOES are featured in the movie trailer for "Confessions of a Shopaholic" -- I happened to see that tonight on the TV at the gym. I've made some headway in tracking them down...still need to wait a couple of weeks for confirmation on whether they will be available.

So I Was Just Thinking...

* This morning began with me getting alerted by my credit card company that there were fraudulent charges on my credit card. This is the same company that got me out of paying $500 for a damaged Segway during a particularly painful/embarrassing Segway tour (I say that like there is any other kind of Segway tour) of DC a few years ago. As much as someone using your credit card number sucks...this company rocks and took care of everything immediately.

* Sitemeter is an application I use on this blog to determine how people find me. Most just type in the URL or come here from Facebook or another blog. Although, others find me by typing search terms into google. (For those who get paranoid by this kind of stuff like I do...let me assure you that it does not show me anyone's name or e-mail address or any identifying information other than how people found my site and how many people visit.) I'm frankly disturbed by how many people find me by typing in the words "collage whores." (Some background: one of my very first posts on this site made a joke about someone misspelling "college" in some graffiti they had written about "collage" girls being whores). Seemingly innocent post. All I have to say about this is -- gross -- and those people should be ashamed of themselves. (Mostly about their atrocious spelling...but also about the sentiment...Uncle Dave...)

Also, someone else found the site by googling "brutalism sex". What can I say? The world is full of pervs. I just love how disappointed these people must be when they come to my site and find nothing but a lot of posts about...swinging. (Note to self: Stop it with all the posts about swinging. Someone might actually think you suburbanites do that. When we all know it is only the ASHBURN suburbanites who do that.)

* My cat, Seamus, has been snacking on the lovely flower arrangement my mom sent me for my birthday. He does not eat any of the several plants we have in our house, but he does love a good flower arrangement. He also likes to chew on plastic bags. He is also very fat. I think he has some emotional issues. I took him to the vet once and told him that Seamus needed to learn that food was not love. The vet told me Seamus had some extra weight, but with his bone structure, he could pull it off. He became my favorite vet that day.

* I'm a huge fan of Dorothy Parker. For some reason, I have come across things she has written several times over the past few weeks, such as:

I like to have a martini
Two at the very most
Three, I'm under the table
And four, I'm under the host

Gimme Five

Brutalism turns five on June 15th of this year.

In 2004, I only wrote a total of 17 posts, and had no idea what I was doing. Now that I have written hundreds of posts, I know with absolute certainty what I'm doing. Procrastinating. At the risk of sounding immodest, I believe I have elevated it to an art form.

Of course there will be a celebration. And maybe I'll even give out awards. Or give away a prize. Or ask some of you to guest post leading up to the actual day. Or maybe finally fill in the "About" section of my blog. Or roll around naked on top of my bed that I have conveniently covered with a lot of money. (That has nothing to do with blogging, but I always thought it would be kinda cool.) I don't know, but I do know that I feel like celebrating and cannot believe that it will be five years.

The Amber Arc Of Judgement

An old friend from back in the ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM days sent me an e-mail yesterday. She had seen one of those car window decals of the cartoon character Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes) urinating on the words "gun control" and not only e-mailed me about it, but tried to get a picture of it with her cell phone while driving. When we used to work together, we had a standing (heh heh) joke about these decals (although, we'd substitute one of the uber-manly female NRA leaders for Calvin, claiming this "woman" could pee standing up. She probably did, and she definitely would have peed on the words "gun control.").

Once, I saw one of these on a car where Calvin was urinating on the words "ex wife." And all I could think was a) she must be thrilled to be an ex and b) what would you do if that guy showed up at your house for a date? I mean, just like those things that go around license plates that say things like "gas, grass or ass, nobody rides for free" -- you glean a lot of information from a seemingly small car decoration. (In the spirit of total disclosure, I did once go on a date with a guy who owned a pickup truck that had personalized plates spelling out DIXEE. I don't know which is worse -- the complete embrace of his redneckedness, or the fact that he had to spell it that way [meaning, of course, that another Virginian already owned DIXIE] and still chose to pay extra to get it.)

Anyway...what are some things you'd like to see Calvin urinating on?

UPDATE: Things I'd like see Calvin urinating on:
1. Whoever writes the "He went to Jared" commercials
2. Mixed metaphors (heard a woman say yesterday that she wears her heart on her shoulder)

UPDATE 2: From Candace, aforementioned former co-worker:
1. Emoticons, and/or all the variations of "LOL" (i.e., ROFL, LMAO, ROFLMFAJHERTCLZ!!!) (I made that last one up.)
2. The people who brought us the Snuggie (TM)
3. Blagojevich's creepy hair (How about Blagojevich in general? - ed.)
4. That Kid Rock song that's part Sweet Home Alabama, part Werewolves of London, and all crap (Don't hate me, but I like this song. - ed.)
5. Kid Rock in general. (Don't hate me again, but I kinda like him. Even though I do realize he is likely to own a pickup truck with DIXEE on the license plate. - ed.)
6. Inappropriate Facebook status updates, like the friend of a friend who posted the results of her pap smear (true story). (EEEEwwwwwww. - ed.)
7. The small dog trend in which people "walk" their dogs in strollers and dress them up, etc. (You're projecting here, aren't you Candace? Uncle Lou LOVES him some dressing up and tooling around in a stroller, we all know that. - ed.)
8. The phrase "a whole nother" (This was the biggest pet peeve of a guy named John that I used to date. He oft said, "why are people inserting the word "whole" into the word "another" -- it makes no sense." - ed.)

Ski Bunny

My child has quite obviously inherited her father's adventure gene. She was on skis for the first time in her life for approximately 20 minutes (and had already gone up and down the bunny slope several times) when she said, "I wanna do the big slopes." Tim took her up in the chair lift to a longer slope and she loved every minute of it. The next day, she was totally into the snow tubing -- the child has no fear.

(The video is especially adorable about 24 seconds in when you get to hear her cute little voice.)

It's All Downhill From Here (Yuk Yuk)

In a few hours, we're leaving for a family ski trip. (Yes, I should be more careful about letting the innernets know we're going out of town but a) we have an alarm system b) we have a neighbor who watches our house with an eagle eye and goes in twice a day to feed the cats, and who owns guns [think I'm lying? wanna risk it?] and c) unless you like freaky paintings by unknown artists...best of luck trying to find anything of value to steal.)

We're going to Massanutten -- a ski resort (I'm being generous in calling Massanutten a "resort") a couple of hours away and right near JMU, where I went to college. (I actually took skiing as my PE credit while I was there -- did night skiing at Massanutten twice a week to earn one of the few "As" I would get in my undergrad career...)

They have skiing, snow tubing, an indoor water park and a bar...so if Avery does not take to the skiing right away, we do have options.

This afternoon, we're going to spend some time on campus at JMU, probably trying to figure out when they began admitting tweeners to college.

Anyway, all this to say we're excited. And not just because my new ski pants are making their debut.

I'm Guessing That "Sex Change" Will Be Suggested In A Matter Of Moments

I need a "next big thing."

Every year, for as long as I can remember, there has been something new and exciting and big to look forward to or work toward...finishing grad school, getting married, buying a house, running a marathon, having a baby, running other marathons, starting new jobs, going on big trips...

This year? I got nothin'

Marathons are out after last year's personal best (and knee-destroying) half marathon. We don't want to move. I'm happy with my job. I don't want another child. I don't want another husband. I've looked into other graduate programs, and really just don't have the desire.

I don't know if it is just the winter doldrums ("doldrums" is a pretty funny word --say it a few times) or if I just miss having something to get excited about that is new and different. But I'm feeling restless.

So, I'm opening the (virtual) floor to my faithful readers. What should be my next big thing? What are some "next big things" you've done that you'd recommend or that you've always wanted to try?

Do me a solid and help out a sistah...

UPDATE: So far, some fantastic suggestions that I will be sifting through to determine which are most feasible (perhaps a tat/piercing/swinging trifecta?). In the meantime, one next big thing is trying to find out which designer made my-very-favorite-shoes-of-all-time (shown here on Brooke Shields). Maybe THIS is what I have been looking for to make my life complete...

UPDATE #2: Please note how Brooke Shields is posing in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY as I am in my blogger profile picture. The 3/4 pose with the hand on the hip. We called each other...

Reduced For Quick Sale

I heard an interview on the radio a couple of days ago. A local disc jockey was talking to a comedian that was performing in town and asked her if she hung out with other comedians. She said, "You know, comedians don't really like to hang out with other comedians. We're not funny offstage...we're all damaged. We're the dented cans."

And that made me laugh out loud. Because we're all dented cans to some extent. What a great analogy.

My 25 Randoms -- Birthday Edition

I've had such a nice birthday so far, receiving all kinds of heartfelt sentiments from my friends and family. I've been called a Zombie and a douchebag and I've received e-mails about blowfish testicles and wieners. It that doesn't move you, then you are dead inside.

Anyway, I've been thoroughly enjoying the latest Facebook thing where people write 25 things about themselves, so in the spirit of self-awareness now that I am another year older, I'm joining in. Here goes:

1) I always like song covers better than the original songs.
2) One of the qualities I’m most attracted to in other people is self-deprecating humor.
3) I was a painfully shy kid and now love public speaking.
4) I laugh and cry too easily.
5) I don’t sleep enough.
6) I always tell people I’m 5’8”, but I’m really closer to 5’7”.
7) I grew up in a beach town and still think everything about beach towns is cool.
8) Horses scare the bejesus out of me.
9) When I was a kid, my parents let me decorate my bedroom entirely in black and white. Another time, they let me and my friends draw graffiti all over the walls. I love them for this.
10) I was pretty ambivalent about having kids. Then I had one. It is the single best thing that has ever happened to me.
11) I wish I was more adventurous.
12) I know how to juggle.
13) It is my hope to one day live in a loft in New York City.
14) All of my friends are smarter and funnier than me. I should probably be intimidated by this.
15) I’m ridiculously competitive – often about silly things.
16) I love crossword puzzles and usually time myself while doing them (see #15).
17) I’m not sentimental.
18) I don’t have any tattoos or piercings other than my ears (which are pierced…not tattooed…that would be weird).
19) I love independent films but don’t see them often enough.
20) I am much less impatient and impulsive than I used to be.
21) I am very social, but also require lots of alone time.
22) I am in the Guinness Book of World Records for tap dancing.
23) I saw a live taping of “The Gong Show” when I was a kid. It rocked.
24) When my husband and I got engaged, we took a two-month cross-country trip that gave us the opportunity to hike and camp in the most gorgeous national parks in the U.S. I never camped before that, and have not camped since.
25) I don't display many personal effects or photos in my own home, but absolutely love seeing them on display in other people's homes.

Miss You Always Somewhere Miss You Where I Laughing

No, I don't understand the title of this post, either. The phrase was printed on a gift bag that my friend, Amy, presented to me tonight. We're guessing the manufacturer did not speak English as a first language. And let's face it -- the sentiment is much funnier when written this way.

(Hell I will hell go to.)

I So Want To Live There

Alert reader, Kath, provided the above picture today. Interestingly timed around my birthday...which brings to mind the year that I had just begun working for the ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM. I was new to the job and trying to prove myself as a young professional. On my birthday, I went to work (likely in an ill-fitting Kasper suit) and about midway through the day, the administrative assistant presented me with a fax that had been sent to my attention. It was from Kath and had only four words on the entire page. In a huge font, it declared:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUTT HOLE!

Because my mother taught me proper etiquette, I faxed a thank you note to her at her office later that day. It read (in equally huge letters):

THANKS, ASS WIPE!

Now Where'd I Put That Spindle?

Avery received a musical Sleeping Beauty Doll for her birthday this year (...and we thought that person liked us).

The doll sings a grating Princess anthem when you press a button on its back (aside: I really hope that someone googles "grating princess anthem" at some point and finds this blog -- since I've been using sitemeter, I am learning that people all over the world are finding me by googling some fantastic phrases -- which will be shared in a future post about why I should be some sort of ambassador) that goes:

"I know you, I walked with you, ooonnnccccee uupppooonnnnn a dream..."

Often, Tim will sing this in the most out of tune, falsetto voice he can muster. You know, because he loves me.

I didn't think it could get more annoying, except that DJ AC has figured out how to play the dance mix version. She presses the button several times in succession so it sounds something like this:

"I...I...I...I I...know you, I...I...I...I I walked with you..you..you..."

Truly Verklempt

I'll admit...when I saw all the excitement and the millions(!) of people on the Mall today, I wished that I had braved the cold and crowds to be there among them.

So, I did what any person in 2009 does -- lived vicariously, thanks to my friends and their facebook updates (and boy, did they update -- I saw photos, got a play-by-play as to whether a purple ticket really would ensure admission to the swearing in, and even got a first hand account about the port-a-potty situation...it was some pretty great stuff).

It is hard not to get excited about the optimism and inclusiveness that surrounds our new President, no matter what your political leanings.

What a fine day to be an American.

I'm Going Broke Paying For Each Additional Piece

A short play from another time:

Me: (Having just arrived at Dulles from a business trip, calling then-boyfriend): "Hi, I landed safely and am just waiting for my luggage on the carousel."

Him: (Clarifying): "So what you're saying is that you have no baggage?"

Me: (Cluelessly): "Right"

Him: "hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"

Nerd Alert

Hillary and I met for our Peeps diorama strategy meeting last night. She and her husband and son came over last night for drinks and apps and of course, planning.

We have two dioramas in the works this year -- and we're equally excited about both.

Wish us luck -- we have to keep doing this thing until we win it, of course. (And we're still bitter about the obvious slight last year. Our Peeps depiction of the writer's strike was brilliant...and it was snubbed...)

I'll post pictures when the dioramas are completed (and after the contest deadline, of course).

The Cat's In The Cradle

Subtitle: I never paid attention to the lyrics of that song and Tim told me what they were today and now I'm depressed.

Avery moved her doll's cradle into our office (who knows why? she moves everything from where it is SUPPOSED to be to where she thinks it SHOULD be, causing her slightly OCD mother to learn how to not be quite so OCD....) (...it's a work in progress...)

Since it has been freezing cold outside (and not as warm inside) over the past few days, our cat, Brooke, has made this her napping place.

Awwww...

VIPs

In the last two jobs I held (prior to my current, wonderful job), I was issued a blackberry so that I could be reached anywhere and at any time. Which, frankly, used to crack me up. I'm in marketing -- what were they going to do -- contact me with a marketing emergency? ("Kathleen, sorry to bother you at 2:00am, but we need brochures and web content developed...STAT!")

I was reminded of this yesterday when I contacted my friend, Meredith, who lives in NYC to see if she was witness to any of the "plane crash in the Hudson" goings-on. (She is a special events planner at a hospital in Manhattan.) She said that she didn't see the plane, but that when anything like that happens, the hospital goes into lock down mode and that everyone runs to their command center. No one can leave in case they need people to assist. Makes sense for medical personnel...but as she said, "What the hell am I going to do? Plan a disaster party?"

I Really Have No Idea What To Make Of This

Someone I know who works for a large commercial real estate firm, told me that she received the following e-mail from a co-worker yesterday:

Original e-mail:
This may seem a little personal, but it is a serious question and it would help me with resolving an issue and I would appreciate it if some of you would respond: Do you use the paper toilet seat cover when using the restroom? Depending on your response there may be a follow up question.

She wrote to me: This was actually sent from one of our guys in development.

I wrote: That is too funny...I guess they are trying to find ways to cut costs? Or are they trying to decide whether to put them in one of your properties?

She wrote: I think he was trying to prove a point to the consultants on the new building. I’ll send you the results.

And of course, I asked: Were people allowed to answer anonymously? That may be more information than I'd be willing to provide to a co-worker...

And she said: Additionally, he did not send it to everyone in the office, only select people.

To which I replied: Does it make you feel good or bad that you were on that distribution list?

Today, she received the following-email:
Thanks to all that responded, it was helpful. These are the results:
Yes- 10%
No- 55%
If the rest room is a wretched mess- 35%
So, this tells me if we go into a nice clean well maintained rest room 90% of the respondents do not use the seat covers.

Here Comes The Sun

We, like most of my friends who live in this area, are both thrilled for the inaugural activities on Tuesday and planning to avoid them like an airport toilet seat. (Sorry for that visual...but "the plague" just seemed so uninspired...)

Yes, I'd like to be there in person for this historic occasion, but the reality is that it will be a) freezing b) hard to see anything c) a transportation nightmare and d) not a good place to be schlepping a kid considering what kind of bathroom situation is anticipated (DC's -- not hers).

Make no mistake -- we are still celebrating -- we have two parties to attend on Sunday night -- the first is a casual gathering, the second is a little more formal (and will feature a keg of "Ale to the Chief" beer from Avery brewing company -- our favorite brewery for obvious reasons...that we like good beer...duh).

I've bought the same hostess gift for both -- a "Yes, We Can" opener. (Don't mean to ruin the surprise for either host that may be reading this post, but I'm probably enjoying the pun way more than either of you will, anyway.)

On Tuesday, I will watch the swearing in on a big screen in my company's conference room. I absolutely cannot wait.

I Feel Like A Comedian During The Bush Administration

Seriously, sometimes these things just write themselves.

I received two separate e-mails from a good friend this morning. They're both real...and they're spectacular...

Number One:
My mom sent my daughter a card that shows a little blonde girl feeding something to a baby deer. My mom writes: "Just like this little girl, your daughter is loving and kind to all animals! God put them on the earth for us to enjoy! And sometimes give us food!"

To which my friend added, "If that doesn't turn her into a vegetarian I don't know what will."

Number Two:
I dreamt last night that one of my clients was setting me up on a date. I walk downstairs to meet my date and he's sitting in my front room dressed entirely, head to toe, in Hasidic attire (complete with ringlets) and IN BLACK FACE. He even went to the trouble of blackening his hands. I told him how uncomfortable it made me, to be seen in public with him like that. He gave me a long-suffering look and chuckled to himself.

To which my friend added, "What does this mean?!?!?!!!!"

It means I don't have to write a post today, dear friend. Thank you.

Apres-Ski

Look at me getting my pretentious on.

Our upcoming two-day ski trip to little ol' Massanutten has reminded me yet again that I do not have appropriate ski (and apres-ski) gear, so I've been working on getting it.

I've never owned the ski pants that are flattering...when I first learned to ski I had those awful bibs. (True story: I went on a ski trip to Mount Tremblant, Canada with a bunch of people from my high school when I was a sophomore. My parents bought me a gorgeous ski jacket, but for some reason, I also bought those awful plastic-y bibs that make the skinniest person look like the Michelin Man. And the ones I bought were very, very tight (yes, it was a good look...jealous?). I was skiing on one of the trails that was about four miles long and had just learned to do that little maneuver where you kind of hop in the air and turn your skis sideways to stop -- and as I did this, the inseam on my too-tight bibs ripped from ankle to ankle. It seemed like it was in slow motion and was quite cartoon-like. Of course, I had only long johns underneath...so I skied for two miles with bibs flapping like giant flags in front of and behind me. I didn't have a boyfriend in high school. Coincidence, no?)

Another true story: because we were in high school, all of our evening activities revolved around trying to find ways to drink. Some of my friends and I went to a strip club because we heard that our fake IDs would work there. My memories of this place include seeing one very-pregnant dancer and ordering a strawberry daiquiri (nothing screams "I'm an of-age sophisticated drinker" like a strawberry daiquiri), and being served strawberry milk with vodka in it.

Anyway, I recently bought some nice ski pants, and even went so far as to find some totally cute apres-ski boots. Total overkill for two days in Massanutten where I'm guaranteed to spend 100% of my time on the bunny slope with Avery. I don't care, as long as I end the day with them intact.

(P.S. I just ran this through spell check and learned that I spelled "daiquiri" wrong initially...I'll wear that as a badge of honor.)

I'm Such An Emo Chick

While Avery napped this afternoon, I watched the last hour of "Harold and Maude" and also the last hour of "Little Miss Sunshine."

Then, I wept.

Kathleen -- The Musical

I've had a trying day. Nothing major...just didn't sleep enough, ran some errands that involved trying to find ski pants for a toddler -- at one point this disintegrated into said toddler doing a ridiculous naked dance in front of a store mirror before running at top speed through the store (she didn't sleep enough, either).

Also, picked up the pottery from the last Dilettante activity at the art studio today. I must say -- this turned out way better than I anticipated -- and will be featured on that site as soon as my camera charges.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah...the glamorous thrill ride that is my life ended with meeting up with Avery's friend, Megan, and Megan's parents at the Fair Oaks Mall "kid pit". The girls are high drama during play dates -- we all just sit around amused when we get them together. However, that place drains me, as every three seconds, you are jumping up to retrieve your kid when they head out of the pit, or grabbing them out of the way of some big kid charging by.

By the time we made a stop at Old Navy on the way home to buy some toddler socks (see? glamorous. Anna Wintour sooooo wants to be me), Canetto and I were snapping at each other a little. He was hungry, it's a full moon (I'm reaching), and I haven't had a drink since the night before New Year's Eve (couldn't at first...now it's kind of a deliberate action...and I'm so much nicer with beer).

All this to say, that I logged onto the computer for the first time today just moments ago to find a post on my friend, Maria's, blog that is dedicated to me. (Being a smart ass pays off -- let this be a lesson to you kids.) I learned that there is more to the "Kathleen" oeuvre than some drunk Irish guy (I'm sorry, is that redundant?) clutching a bar and singing "I'll take you home again Kathleen".

Maria, let me just say:
1) I love that Guitar Bomb song and my husband is a junkie -- so totally perfect
2) The Rideout and Shaw song should totally be a Chris Isaak song. I love Chris Isaak, and were it not for my loyalty to my junkie husband, I may be a groupie.
3) I'm not clear...do you like Townes Van Zandt?
4) Defiance, Ohio's song is my favorite of all of these -- maybe because I am hungry.
5) Yes! This is the one I always think of.

Anyway, all of this to say, what started out as a bit of a blah day ended with me smiling and listening to some great new music. You (and your site) rock.

Jesus Take The Loofah

I've mentioned before that I have a quote board in my kitchen (and some in-laws who wish that their son had married that sweet Catholic girl he used to date...)

Well, since I also have fun co-workers, I've shared this idea at my office -- although at the office, we go with original quotes. Gems from this include:

"Zantac is just not as fun as Xanax"
"All the fun you have really annoys me"
"I'm not a big vomit fan"
"I'm over here whittling the bamboo stick"

and my personal favorite (and title of the second country song I pen):

"A loofah don't make you less of a man"

What Am I Missing?

An e-mail from Enfamil, dated today (January 8, 2009):
Congratulations, Kathleen!

We've heard your exciting news and want to welcome you to the Enfamil Family Beginnings program. We know what a special time this is for you and we're excited to help you every step of the way.

As a new mom, it's good to know you have options when it comes to feeding your newborn. Enfamil® LIPIL® contains a special blend of DHA and ARA -- important nutrients naturally found in breast milk. These nutrients play an important role in your baby's brain and eye development.

So thanks again for joining. We're excited to help you make the most of this wonderful experience.

And I don't mean to brag -- but that may have been the easiest pregnancy and delivery on record. I'm back in pre-pregnancy jeans already, and haven't missed any sleep at all. It's amazing how I do it all.

Guess What Santa Brought Me?

I'm currently reading:

When you are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris
Letter to my Daughter by Maya Angelou
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

...one makes me cry, one makes me laugh and one makes me never want to fly again...

(Santa also brought me a book light so that I do not disturb him when I read at 2:00am)

No More Dr. Seuss For Me...

The Real Mother Goose is way more entertaining when you read it as an adult. And not just beause of rhymes about Dick Redcap, Little Pussy and Handsome Cock.

I'm lying. That's exactly why it's more entertaining.

Yup. Way Smarter Than Me (Or Is It Way Smarter Than I?)

This morning, Aves and I were running late getting ready for work and school. I was getting testy and snapped at her to get into the car.

She asked, "are you mad at me?" and I said, "no" and then she asked, "are you just frustrated with the situation?"

I Love My FWB*

(*FWB in this case does not mean "Friend With Benefits" -- I'm a happily married woman [...the vast majority of the time. Who was quoted as saying that they would never consider divorce in a million years? Murder, maybe, but never divorce...] -- [and don't judge me...I'm married to a guy who is fond of repeating a quote from the (ever-insightful? ever-quotable?) Desi Arnaz...something along the lines of "It's not easy being married to you, but it sure is a lot of fun"]** anyway, in this case, FWB stands for "Family Without Baggage", which is what I got for Christmas this year.)

My mom is getting married to her boyfriend, Jack, in October 2009. My father died in 1998 after they had been married for 33 years. She and Jack have known each other through tennis (it's like a cult) in Virginia Beach for years. He and my mom are a big hit at all of our parties and have even begun scoring invites to our friends' parties, for which they gladly make trips up here.

During our trip to Va. Beach this Christmas, we got to meet most of Jack's kids and extended family. One of his sons (and his girlfriend) and his daughter (and her husband) came to my mom's house for dinner. Jack's daughter has two kids...one 14 and one 2 1/2 (can you imagine?). The 2 1/2 year old and Avery were best friends almost instantly. And his kids? Totally fun. They are outgoing and have great stories and are so easy to be around.

We also were invited to a holiday party at Jack's sister's house the next night. I have never felt so welcome anywhere in my life. Everyone hugged me when we met and all of the adults had included Avery in the gift-giving (they all buy small things for the kids every Christmas). Also, there were about five other kids there (Avery's new cousins) that Avery played with all night. Since we are not (geographically or otherwise) close to our extended families, this was quite a gift. To say I was touched would be an understatement.

I hope you all also got something unexpected and wonderful this holiday season.

**I just realized that this whole paragraph makes it sound like Canetto and I just stand around quoting to each other all the time. We don't, but that may be my New Year's resolution.

Nothing Makes Me Feel Sexier Than Wearing Used Shoes

Subtitle: Except having the number 10 printed on the heel.

My little family and I reconnected today with a little bowling. Avery had never done this before, but jumped right in and loved it. (We tried to use a ball guide to help her with the ball, but she preferred to hoist the six-pounder and hurl it down the alley herself.)

"Hurl" may be a bit of an exaggeration -- one of the bowling alley employees had to retrieve her ball at one point becuase it didn't quite make it to the pins.

"Ball guide" sounds dirty.

Lucky Pierre

One of the few pictures we have from the trip since Kira's camera got lost on New Year's Eve. Stories to follow...

Spell Check Just Indicated That "Appletini" Is An Error...Spell Check Does Not Know The Half Of It

Happy 2009!

Sorry for no posts in the last week...but lots to write about when I finally do...meeting new family members over Christmas during a holiday trip to Va. Beach and then an appletini-soaked New Years celebration in Atlantic City. And yes, I'm embarrassed by my drink of choice. Let's just say it was after several other (better) drinks and that I'm easily persuaded. Let's also say that I'm being generous when I suggest that the AC tag line should be changed to "once is enough."

Will post tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm never drinking again.

Joy Vey

Christmukkah was a total success. First of all, Hillary made some excellent appetizers -- grilled sandwiches with brie and apples and walnuts in them and these wonderful things calls "bratzels" -- hot pretzels with swiss cheese melted on them and bratwurst on top of that. (German sausages are generally a HUGE part of all Jewish holiday celebrations, for those not in the know.)

The highlight of the evening, of course, was the gift exchange competition:

Team Berman provided the following:
-gift bag with the word "Joy" printed on it
-Elvis rear-view mirror hanger (complete with swivel hips)
-Children's book titled "To Bethlehem We Go"
-Cranberries CD "The Faithful Departed"
-angel figurine

Team Canedo provided the following:
-bottle of Bell's winter white ale
-bottle of Yoo Hoo chocolate drink
-CD single of John Mayer's "Your Body is a Wonderland"
-birthday candles
-Grands buttermilk biscuits

Can you guess the holiday carol that either of these gift assortments represent?

Team Berman came closest to the pre-determined spending limit ($20) without going over (they were at $19.52; our total was $19.45); they also provided more "gift-y" components in their assortment of clues and had a clever play on words in their gifts, whereas the Canedos were much more literal. Team Canedo guessed their holiday carol, however, and Team Berman was not able to guess theirs; also, Team Canedo did a much artsier presentation of their song lyrics. So who is the overall winner? No one cares -- we're too busy thinking about our entries in the Peeps diorama contest next spring.

Team Berman also gave Avery an adorable stuffed Rudolf that plays "Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer" when you squeeze its hoof. Avery loves it more than she has ever loved any toy, as was evidenced by the 915 times we had to hear the song on the way home from Bethesda.

Bermans -- clogging your toilet and Avery doing a Hong Kong Phooey over Sammy's head with the inflatable guitar aside...we had a great time and truly appreciate your hospitality. Viva Christmukkah!

Details.

(NOTE: When you ask your "friend" to photoshop a picture of you onto Kate Winslet's body it's probably a good idea to specify which photo she should use.)

Cornhole Nation

Conscientious readers Dilettante and Dilettard have just discovered what may be the greatest Wii game, ever:

"Bags" -- which is Wii's answer to "Cornhole"

How is it possible that I am such a Johnny-come-lately to any game with such a dirty-sounding name?

Some scatologist I am.

'Tis The Season To Bully Little Ki-ids, Fa La La La La La La La La

Subtitle: Well, she started it.

There are lots of adorable children in Avery's classroom. And one royal brat. There's always one. The one who gets in everyone else's face and the one who tells other little girls that they cannot play doll house unless they, too, have a ponytail. She's a big kid and rough and mean. A royal brat (have I mentioned that?).

This morning, when I dropped Avery off, the kid got in Avery's face. Right in her face...for no reason other than to annoy her. I said, "Stop doing that." Ten seconds later, she was doing it again. I said, "I said stop doing that!"

I then went to put a few things in Avery's cubby, turned back around and the kid had Avery in some kind of bear-hug-against-her-will and was pressing her face into Avery's again. So, I got right in her face and said through clenched teeth, "Listen...I told you to stop it and you BETTER stop it now," and gave her the meanest look I have that goes something like this:


She then ran crying to the teacher.

Christmas really seems to bring out the best in me. This reminds me of a Christmas past when I also got into the spirit of the season.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

I'll Probably Blow The Whole Illusion By Referring To Them As "Crescents"

A couple of years ago, I remember Oprah Winfrey (because the last name is necessary) saying that she ordered croissants from Williams Sonoma to have on Christmas morning. This was after she had "defeated fat" and was allowing herself carbs only one day a year and thus chose this particular way in which to indulge.

I've been intrigued since then. I may not be able to afford the $50 million house in Montecito (this year), but in some small way I could feel as rich as the richest woman on the planet, if only through the magic of mail-order frozen pastry.

So, this year, I went ahead and splurged. I ordered some chocolate croissants from Williams Sonoma so that Canetto and Avery and I can have them Christmas morning (with coffee and mimosas...I'm already drooling).

We received them a few days ago (packaged in dry ice so they stayed frozen and weighing a ton...I'm hoping it's all the butter), ironically arriving on the same day that Oprah announced she's fat again.

It's Like The World Is Out To Annoy Me

With words like "goblet". Gross.

I'm Drinking As I Write This...

There was a kid at Avery's school who was a very sweet kid (at heart), but he had a bit of a biting problem. (Sadly, a couple of months before this whole Twilight craze or this whole situation could have turned out differently...)

He had been written up numerous times and spent a lot of time in the office. But, it was never a real issue until he bit one kid in the face and it broke the skin and caused the kid's parents to threaten to sue the school if Biter was not suspended permanently from the school. (Trust me when I tell you that this is an excellent school and this was HIGH DRAMA for this place...nothing more than a scraped knee ever happens there.)

Biter's mom has another kid at the school, so although Biter had to move schools, the other kid still goes to Avery's school and I still see his mom and dad during drop-offs and pick-ups occasionally.

Such as this afternoon. Biter's mom was logging out on the computer in the lobby, so Avery and I were behind her in line waiting our turn to log out, too. Just then, Avery realized this was Biter's mom and said (pretty much as loud as she possibly could), "Mommy -- why does "Biter" (she used his real name) bite everyone?"

Fortunately, Biter's mom is a good sport and laughed about it and told me the Biter missed his friends here. Secretly, though, she was probably thinking, "bite me."

Johnny Pecker

Every so often, Avery will sing a song or mention a story that she has learned at school. She has a great memory and can recite things she's heard only a couple of times.

One character that she continues to mention is named "Johnny Pecker" (and yes, I, too, thought this was an odd choice of names for a children's character, but then figured it might be a chicken or something...)

When I asked her about "Johnny Pecker" she told me that it is in a book she reads at school. I did a google search on this (this has worked in the past to help me identify books she has mentioned) and came up with a couple of XX rated sites. I'm not kidding about that.

So, when I picked her up from school a couple of days ago, I said, "show me the book about Johnny Pecker." She walked over to the book shelf, looked at a few books, then pulled out a book about an ant. I leafed through the book and it was all about an ant named Bart going to work. There were no other characters in the book. I said to her, "this is not about Johnny Pecker...where is the Johnny Pecker book?" and she kept insisting the ant book WAS the Johnny Pecker book. I keep insisting that it was not. Finally, she took the book from me and pointed to the cover.

The author of the ant book? Bonny Becker.

Lessons here:

1) Never doubt her. Never. I've learned this lesson repeatedly.
2) Don't look up "Johnny Pecker" from the work computer.
3) Be thankful that I did not ask her teachers who "Johnny Pecker" was.

Dude. Totally.

I totally love the song "If I were a boy" by Beyonce and R. Kelly. And not just because we almost named Avery "Beyonce"...

(Off-Color Headline Removed)

On Sunday morning, we drove down to the Ritz Carlton in Pentagon City to see what was marketed as a "life-sized gingerbread house", featuring eight foot walls and more than 200 pounds of candy. (Since our little one has assembled gingerbread houses for the past two years and is just fascinated by them, we figured this would be a must-see.)

Let's just say that whoever promoted this thing is an LLPOF*

This was a creativity-lacking, over-marketed, gigantic piece of crap (not unlike Britney Spears' music career). It was not free-standing, as we had expected...just sort of a broom closet with the walls covered in gingerbread rectangles. In the center of each rectangle, someone had stuck on a piece of candy with frosting. (And by the way -- I would estimate that maybe, MAYBE five pounds of candy was used -- nowhere near 200 pounds.)

Thanks for ruining Christmas, Ritz Carlton Pentagon City.

-----------------------------

*LLPOF = Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

Music To My Ears

Because I am such a philanthropist (read: I donated a clarinet that had been sitting in my closet for about 30 years to GMU's Instruments in the Attic program), Tim and I received tickets to the GMU Christmas Concert last night at the Performing Arts Center on campus.

We were also invited to a reception beforehand, which was also attended by University President Alan Merten and his wife. From there, we walked over to the Performing Arts Center for the concert.

This is the first year for Instruments in the Attic. I was one of about 35 people who have donated since it began (in September). So, I got my name in the program, and then the program sponsor gave a nice speech on stage and asked for those of us who donated and were here tonight to please stand up -- and then gave our names (only 5 of us went to the concert). So in the sold-out concert hall, I got to stand up and be recognized personally.

The attention-seeker in me found this to be pretty great.

And it really is a great program...every music major at GMU has to be proficient in 16 (not a typo) different instruments in order to receive his or her degree. Of course, this means they have to rent instruments or find ways to purchase them in order to practice, which can get prohibitively expensive for a student.

If you have any instruments you're not using and want to help a college kid (especially since so many GMU Music Majors go on to teach music in DC-area schools), this is a great way to do it.

I Am A Schtink Doppelganger For Kim Cattrall

(post to come)

New Yawk

So I'm getting grief from my partner in crime (ahem...Dori) for not posting about my recent trip to NYC. I get intimidated writing about this stuff because I'm afraid that I will not do it justice -- it is so much easier to write about minutiae.

In list format for some reason, here goes:

- drive on Friday afternoon took only 4.5 hours door to door. Arrived with worst sore throat of my life. Dori, being a certified aromatherapist and herbalist got me stoned and I soon forgot about the pain. (ha ha -- that's not what herbalist means, you silly people). She gave me throat soothing tea and essential oils to rub on my neck. Then she made me a great dinner and then we read through the "crazy letter file" that I had saved from back in the time that I worked for the ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM. For having to change plans completely due to mah durn sickness, it was actually a really fun night.

- woke up feeling fantastic on Saturday. We took the train into Manhattan and met John and Mer at Bubby's in Tribeca for brunch. A little kid ('bout Avery's age) walked by the booth in which we were sitting. I glanced at him, then looked up at his dad and was like, "holy crap -- that's Jon Stewart" (not out loud...I'm not that ridiculous). He and his wife and two kiddos came in to eat. Dori had just mentioned that she was going to be his second wife, so it was a coincidence (or was it, homewrecker?) that he was there. We pondered the idea of walking over to his table and asking if we could possibly get a picture and if he said yes, handing the camera to him to take OUR picture. C'mon -- you know he would have found that funny. As it was, we decided that he would probably rather just have a nice brunch with his family.

- from there we walked over to Tribeca Cinemas for the Big Apple Film Festival. My friend, Meredith, was starring in one of the fims being screened, so we got to meet the writer/director/other actors. Plus, Tribeca Cinemas is just such a cool urban space. Not that we were biased, but Mer's film was easily the best of the six or eight films that we watched.

- Mer and John went home after that, because Mer was leaving for California the next morning and had to pack. Dori and I headed out for drinks in the West Village. We went for cocktails at The Blind Tiger and The Slaughtered Lamb (we hate all animals, apparently) and then had to find Taco San Loco (long story).

- Back to Bubby's so Dori could try their pie (she's a connoisseur -- all 115 pounds of her). Bubby's got high marks on their pie.

- Met back up with Mer and John at Tribeca Cinemas for a big closing night party. Lasted all of about an hour and then headed back to Summit. (Which, by the way, is one of the most charming little towns, ever.)

- Sunday morning, Dori and I drove back into Manhattan to meet her friend, Jessica, for brunch at the Blue Ribbon Bakery. Brunch was fantastic and Jessica is hilarious. I loved her within about three seconds of meeting her (the first two seconds were touch and go). She's a poet who is published in some great poetry magazines (not surprisingly, I'm nowhere near smart enough to know the names of these publications), and she had an excellent story about a tofurkey. 'Nuff said, really.

Headed home after that. Made it in 4 hours and 15 minutes. Really a nice and easy drive. There is absolutely no excuse for why I don't make this trip more often.

She Can Invite Friends Over To Play With Those And Her Collection Of Glass Shards

Avery wrote and decorated her first letter to Santa a couple of nights ago. That explains why every centimeter of our house is covered in glitter.

Sweetly (or strategically), she begins the letter by telling Santa everything that she is going to get for him (pretzels, cookies), before asking for what she wants (such as "more knives"). Honestly...she said that when I asked her what she wanted for Christmas..."a big bag of M&Ms and more knives."

(scratches head)

Poop.

In addition to this work week making my head feel like it will 'splode, (every.single.project.has.deadlines.at.the.exact.same.time.and. some.people.seem.to.have.no.sense.of.urgency), this week at work sucks further because my very favorite co-worker is leaving.

He's the guy in the office that has a way of making everything fun, who gets along with everyone, and who is respected by everyone because he really knows his stuff.

Tomorrow is his last day and I've been in a bit of denial this week (helped along by the insane workload mentioned above).

I've always done a good job of staying in touch with former co-workers and am sure it will be no different with him (especially since he and his wife live very close to us).

Whatevs. Still sucks the big one.

Is Indonesia The Real MILF Island?

Loyal reader Amanda gives us the following headline today:

Indonesia pushed to mediate MILF talks

Who knew it was world news worthy? And I suppose the better question is why haven't they asked me to participate? (ha ha ho ho hee hee chortle snicker titter wheeze guffaw laugh chuckle har har).

I Was So Excited About Places That Offered Free Validation Until I Realized What It Really Meant

I finally added an application to count visitors to my two blogs. I've been meaning to do this forever...seems like such as waste that I've been blogging since 2004 and didn't add this until yesterday. (Especially since I am one of those people who desperately needs validation. Lots of validation. Really...I'm not kidding. Validate me.)

And here's the deal -- in one day, my counter registered more than 2500 hits on Brutalism and get ready for this....ten on the Dilettante blog. (Not unique visitors, mind you, but hits...)

I feel the love! Thank you, readers and faithful commenters!!!

It's Not Just A Job, It's An Adventure

Since Avery had such a fantastic first race experience doing the Goblin Gallop, I was so excited to register her for another. So on the Friday after Thanksgiving, she was all set to do the "Run with Alan Webb" at Reston Town Center to raise money for the Neediest Kids organization. (Alan Webb is the Reston hometown hero who holds the American record for the mile -- 3:46 -- the kid is a machine.) Because we were so excited about how much she loved her first race, we had invited her Grandma and Grandpa and also Aunt Lisa, Uncle Rob and cousin Cameron to watch her, too.

We showed up at Reston Town Center, got Avery's race number secured on her jacket and got her and Canetto all lined up with the other runners to begin the race. Seconds before the gun went off, Avery began having a tantrum. She took off at about a million miles an hour in the opposite direction of the race course. Somehow, she managed to tear her hat off and then in the ridiculous tantrum-style run that she was doing, her mittens also flew off. Tim looked back at me and burst out laughing, then ran after her.

Somehow, my 30 pound daughter managed to run to Talbot's, yank open the (very heavy) front door and race to the rear of the store and into a window display, where she retreated into a far corner and tried to hide from her dad. (I was outside documenting the entire thing on film while simultaneously wetting my pants.) Tim ran after her into the store and a saleswoman said to him, "you know, we really don't like kids climbing into the window displays," to which Tim replied, "you know, that's a coincidence, because I really don't like her climbing into the window display, either."

Tim did manage to get her out of the display, but she never did do the run. A few minutes later, she said to us, "I'm sorry I was so cranky this morning."

Still no idea why the tantrum and the absolute refusal to do the run...especially since she did seem to enjoy running (as fast as she could away from us, but running nonetheless).

Life Is Good.

Even though it started out with me being so sick I could not get off the couch and go to Thanksgiving Dinner, this was one of the nicest and most fun holiday weekends in recent memory.

I did join my inlaws at their house after dinner (Tim and Avery were already there), and we did our traditional British cracker thing and then exchanged Christmas gifts (since no one will be together at Christmas). We had such a nice time and Cameron (my 9-year-old nephew) and Avery had a blast together.

On Friday, Avery was scheduled for her second race at Reston Town Center. (Note: "scheduled to run" and "actually ran" are two different things...a separate blog post with photos will follow). We did stay at the Town Center for the annual holiday parade and that was fantastic. Krennie and Jack came back to our house late that afternoon and together we made a gingerbread house and ordered pizza. It was so much fun and so low key.

Saturday, it was back to the dentist for my remaining two tooth extractions. (And further humiliation for bringing a disc man to drown out the noise. I accused the dentist of being jealous of how retro-cool I am as he proceeded to mock me.) All I have to say is that laughing gas may be the best invention, ever. Saturday night I all but finished my Christmas shopping and then Sunday, we had brunch with the Bermans.

This is my kind of holiday. Low-key, no travel, seeing a lot of different people, and spending a ton of time with Canetto and Avery. I am so in the holiday spirit.

Thanksgiving Sap-o-Rama

I'm thankful for:

My family
My friends
Good health
Having a job that I love
Having a home that I can afford
Dilettante Club
The Internet
Coffee
Brunch
Poop jokes

And you?

Thank You, Sis, May I Have Another?

I rarely write about my sister, because, frankly, I barely know my sister. That's by design, as the following was one of the many incidents that defined our relationship early in life. As the freak show that I was in my adolescence and early twenties, I overlooked most of the psychological torture because I just wanted her to like me. I, apparently, was a total idiot. Anyway:

In elementary school, a teacher had asked my sister to draw a picture of her family. And she did. She came home proudly displaying this piece -- a full-color Daddy with a huge smile on his face, followed by a full-color Mommy with a huge smile on her face. She (the oldest child) came after that, also happy and in vibrant color. As the only other family member, I of course came next in the family line up, right? Oh, silly reader. You're forgetting our cat, Henry. He was depicted next in line. And then? Then it was my turn. A tiny little figure with no facial expressions done entirely in brown.

Don't get me wrong. I find this utterly hilarious (now). I also would love to have it analyzed (though I'm pretty sure I understand the intent). Or maybe just keep it folded up in my purse to offer as rebuttal to the people who think I'm damaging my daughter by not providing her with any siblings...

The Times They Are A-Changin'

Old George Mason University mascot, Gunston, on the left. New George Mason University mascot on the right. Me? Right in the middle. There is something so adorably muppet-like about Gunston. However, adorably muppet-like doesn't generally intimidate the opposing team. Not like the flabby Budweiser-beer-drinker-favored face painting on the new mascot does, anyway.

So Dead On, It's Scary

Me, defined by Urban Dictionary:

1. kathleen
a funky ass chick who puts out with a hot attitude.

friend 1: did you have fun last night
friend 2: yeah we got it on she's a real kathleen

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmukkah

Many years ago, my friend, Hillary, and I began celebrating Christmukkah together. This began with some lofty goal of exposing the other to our different religious holidays, but really was just a reason to try and amuse the other person. (Done by deciding upon some random craft that each of us had to do and present to the other --involving some bizarre assortment of components. One year, we had to incorporate the largest pair of underpants we could find into a holiday diorama. I paper-mached (underpants mached?) a huge pair of white underpants into the form of a mountain, put a pipe-cleaner skiier on top and titled it "Holiday in Ass-pen". Hillary hung humongous red underpants from an old light fixture for some sort of erotic objet d'art light fixture.)

(Aside: Our relationship is pretty much predicated on nonsense. When Hillary and I worked together at a network security company, she got a musical Furby in a happy meal at some point. One day, I tasked her with coming up with a marketing department theme song set to the tune that the musical Furby played. And no, we were not the most productive marketing department. Thanks for asking.)

After having been away from Christmukkah for a few years, we are bringing it back this year. It is high time our children began participating in this tradition. We will meet on December 20th this year and celebrate in the following way:

Each team (Berman/Canedo) must come up with five items -- totaling $20 or less -- that represent a commonly-known holiday carol. The other team will try and guess which carol is being represented by the five items...and of course, get to keep the items as their Christmukkah gift.

The following items must come to the Christmukkah celebration:

1) Itemized list of the five purchases -- with associated costs assigned to them (must be as close to the $20 limit without going over -- a concept stolen blatantly from the Price is Right Showcase Showdown)

2) Printed lyrics of the song with words/concepts highlighted that are represented in the five chosen items

3) The five items (duh)

I will wet my pants if we come up with the same song/ideas. And yet will not be surprised at all.

What, Me Worry?

Back story: In the planning stages of my semester in London reunion this year, the group was trying to find John R., one of the guys from the group. It had been a long time since anyone was in touch with him and all our leads were turning into dead ends. (And...he had lived all over the place in the past 20 years -- DC, Chicago, California...) After extensive and exhaustive Internet searches that turned up nothing, another friend helpfully noted that he was on Facebook. (I swear, he was NOT on Facebook when I first looked.) Anyway...we found him and he came to the reunion (he's living in the DC area again). Since the reunion, I had him and another friend from that group to our house for cocktails. This was a couple of weeks ago.

Current story: Yesterday, Avery was busy pulling every single book off the bookshelf in our office. She came across a MAD book with Alfred E. Neumann on the cover (and immediately screamed, "Alfred E. Neumann"...why she knows that is a long story). That's not the weird part. The weird part is that right on the cover of the book, it said, "John R. 460-4855" in my handwriting. Now, I had obviously written that at some point when I was short on paper...but when? and why? and how random that I found this a week after he was in my house for the first time in 20 years? I e-mailed him about this and he did confirm that was an old phone number of his.

Life is strange. (And not just because a MAD book I purchased when I was about eight years old has made it through about 15 moves with me.)

Cornhole -- Alumni Style

Disturbing headline from JMU's web site:

ALUMNI, SHOW US YOUR CORNHOLE SKILLS!
Sign up for the first-ever Alumni vs. Students Cornhole Competition, hosted by the Student Ambassadors and JMU Alumni Association. Join us for free food and show the students how to play cornhole-alumni style! Register today.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Avery has had a bit of a tough week. Her teacher told me that she was not using her "listening ears" during circle time at school. To which I replied, "Huh? Oh, sorry I wasn't listening." (In the musical theater that continually runs through my brain, that is how things would go -- right before everyone around me would break into a perfectly choreographed song and dance routine). Reality is just not as much fun. Although, there was that one time when I picked Avery up from school and we were in her classroom and she grabbed my car keys. Her teacher said, "Oh, Avery -- are you going to drive the car home?" and I looked at her and said, "Well, it's probably a good idea, seeing as how drunk I am."

Anyway, because I am a parent, I analyze and worry and assume that Avery will be homeless and sleeping on a bench when she grows up because she left her "listening ears" at home two days this week. We discussed this with her last night, and could tell that even as she apologized for not listening and promised that she would listen, she was basically giving us lip service. (I'm alternately frightened and impressed by that, incidentally.)

(Also, last Sunday, after Amanda and I came back from hearing Hillary Clinton speak? Amanda was standing in our kitchen. Avery had obviously missed me and wanted me to herself, in addition to being very sleepy. She looked up at me and said, "Mommy, I want Amanda to go home." And I said, "Um, Avery? Amanda is RIGHT HERE.")

This morning, I braced myself for what her teacher might say to me. And she greeted me with this: "You know, Avery is really emerging as a leader. Even though she is the youngest in the classroom, she really commands the respect of the other kids and they listen to her."

Let's review -- We have a non-listening bossy pants who lacks diplomacy and pays us lip service when we try and discuss areas of improvement for her.

(I'd make some kind of "future politician" joke here, but now that I actually respect our President-elect, I just cannot go there.)

Good Ol' Fashioned Family Vacation

The first vacation we ever took with Avery was when she was two months old -- to Key West, Florida.

We planned this trip before she was born, thinking it would be easy to schlep her on a plane when she was that young. (People without kids are so charmingly, ridiculously naive.)

The first two months of her life were a total blur, and suddenly we found ourselves with vacation plans. We seriously considered cancelling the trip because we were way more overwhelmed than we thought we would be. Ultimately, though, we made the decision to go.

She was great on the flight to Miami. In Miami, we rented a car to drive through the Keys down to Key West. (We remembered this as a two-hour drive from a trip to Key West that we had taken ten years before -- it's not -- it's four.) And traffic was awful, and the sun was blazing and Avery's rental car child safety seat was not at all comfortable for her. It was a lllooonnnng four hours.

And, while we were making our way south, we kept seeing vehicles with "Fantasy Fest" and "Fantasy Fest or Bust" signs on them. We thought nothing of this until we arrived in Key West and got a quick education. Fantasy Fest, it turns out, is an annual celebration much like Mardi Gras. There is pretty much 24-hour drinking in the streets, lots of costumes (many of which are simply painted on), and lots of debauchery. This is usually held in October, but thanks to a Hurricane that year, it had been re-scheduled to December -- the exact same weekend we were visiting.

So, for the three days we spent in Key West, we were the only people with a tiny infant in a baby carriage walking through the streets. It was somehow a perfect introduction to parenthood. We learned early that things never go exactly as planned once you have a child.

Other great parts of this experience:

1) The people in our B&B who were up til all hours of the night were not disturbed by a crying baby because they could not hear her over their own commotion
2) There was A LOT for Avery too look at and listen to -- lots of bright colors and loud music
3) The priceless pictures I have of appropriate new father Tim standing next to a woman with nothing on her top but nipple rings

Joke Of The Day

How many humorless people does it take to change a lightbulb?

One.

It Was A Graveyard Smash

So, the Canetto family has totally adopted the Vienna downtown as its own.

(Technically, we live in Oakton, which is only a few miles away and does not have a downtown, and Vienna is a nice family town with lots of cool events so we're pretty sure that Vienna does not care if we glom on to it. Unless, of course, we become those needy people who are all like, "Vienna, we want to spend every spare moment with you. Hey, Vienna, why aren't you returning our calls? Vienna, we see you standing in your living room wearing a red shirt...") Not that it would ever go that far. No matter what Arlington says.

Last night we went to the annual Vienna Halloween parade. We were supposed to meet Avery's friend, Ava, and Ava's parents there. Alas, we were running late and went to the Commerce Bank parking lot instead of Virginia Commerce Bank parking lot (really, Vienna? two blocks from each other and with such similar names? really?) yadda yadda yadda...we watched the parade alone.

Although, on our way to the wrong bank parking lot, we ran into Avery's friend, Logan, and his parents and also my semester-in-London friend, Natalie, and her family. So we were feeling all part-of-the-community and social.

We did watch the whole parade from our VIRGINIA Commerce Bank position and it was awesome! It truly gets better every year -- especially the dancers -- the Bolivian dancers and the group from Adrenaline Dance Company were so good.

Nicely done, Vienna. Now about that restraining order...

Emergency E-Mail Summit Called

A friend of mine (my age) who is dating recently found herself texting with someone she had not yet met in person. She sent an emergency e-mail out to some girlfriends with the following question:

A guy I'm being kind of sort of set up with just asked me via text how old I am. I know he's like 34. What do I say???

Best reply, by far, came from one of her friends, who said:

"Do you have a younger brother?"

How Britney Spears Saved Me From Prison

Today's post is courtesy of guest blogger, Hillary:
--------------------------------------------------
I had jury duty today. But, I completely forgot. Seriously, 100% just had no memory of it. That is, until 11:15 last night. While watching the 11 o'clock news, I saw a story on Britney Spears and her latest judicial affairs. Somehow this triggered something in my brain about my own civic obligations and I literally bolted out of bed. It was seriously like a lightbulb not only went off, but also exploded in my head. I ran downstairs, found the summons, called the number, and of course, my number was called to come in to the courthouse this AM. Luckily, it was a light day and both trials on the docket settled out of court at the 11th hour and I was able to leave at 10:30 and only waste two hours of my day. Thank you, Britney.

The "Kathy" Offends Me More Than The "Brain Trust"

Today's post, courtesy of guest blogger, Dori (Aural Pleasures).
(She has been reading a journal she kept during our semester in London 20 years ago.)
------------------------------------------------------------

"I hit the motherlode -- at the back of the journal I did a quick "list
of people with their outstanding traits" and here's yours:

Kathy Steenberg: 1/4 of the "brain trust' as the 4 tri-sigs were dubbed the first week. She and Tim had something going. Kathy has the best sense of humor I've ever heard on a girl, but she can be a little... risque I guess.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Why Can't His Last Name Be "Wong" So I Can Make A Lame, Groaner Joke About A Wong Making Two Wrights?

Tim's dad has worked in aviation his whole life. (He has always loved planes, and actually had his pilot's license before he had a driver's license.) Due to his eyesight, however, he was not permitted to fly planes as a career. Instead, he became an airline mechanic, spending most of his career on the aircraft maintenance crew for Gannett's corporate planes. When he retired from Gannett several years ago, he began working part time for Ken Kellett, who finances the reproduction of historic planes.

In 2003, we took a family vacation to Kitty Hawk, NC, in an attempt to witness the replica Wright flyer actually flying on the 100th anniversary of the Wright Brothers' flight. Due to weather conditions, the flyer didn't get too far off the ground. But John had worked on the plane and it was beautiful and exciting to be there.

Tomorrow, we're going to the College Park Aviation Museum in Maryland to see another reproduction on which John worked. (The 1910 Wright Model B Reproduction.) Link:
http://www.pgparks.com/places/historic/cpam/inside.html

John is kind of a quiet guy who doesn't talk too much about the things he does, so I never realize how cool it is until we get to see his work on display on this.

I Love Little Peplo

The St. Mary's Oyster Festival is this weekend:

http://www.usoysterfest.com/

We're not going, but we did go one year. It's actually a nice way to spend a day. The community gets very involved and excited about it. I remember that even the school kids had drawn pictures about oystering that were displayed at the festival. Our favorite? A crudely drawn oyster with a carefully lettered headline that read:

PEPLO SPEND THEIR LIVE TO OSTER

The Bear's Name Is RuPaul

Avery (referring to her teddy bear, whom she has diapered and is cradling in her arms):

"This is my baby. He was in my tummy for a long, long time. He's wearing a diaper. He's a girl."

Life Is Hard With A Sippy Cup

For her third birthday, we decided that it was time for Avery to give up her bottle. (Yes, we are such hard-asses -- that's only two years after most kids give it up. And especially entertaining since she moved out of her crib early, spoke early, was toilet trained early, etc. The bottle was kind of the last bastion of her babyhood.)

On her birthday (and after talking about it every day for a few weeks), we got rid of her changing pad, her gate on her bedroom door, and the night time bottle. She was pretty good about it, but did wake up in the middle of the night asking for it on the first night. I soothed her and reminded her that we had made a mutual decision to give up the bottle since she was now a big girl. I offered to get her a sippy cup of milk instead of a bottle...and she said to me, "Life is hard with a sippy cup."

It is, my little angel, and sometimes Jimmy has diarrhea. These are good lessons to learn early in life.

Life's Lil Details

Spent the day on Saturday at the Fairfax Fall Festival (how have we never been to this before? It was fantastic. We met the Beenhouwers there and Grandma Krennie met us there on her way into town.) Krennie then babysat on Saturday night so Canetto and I got to see "Lakeview Terrace". Sunday, we went to pick out phots from the photo shoot we did a week ago (great photos of our kiddo -- it will be tough to decide which ones to get - then had dinner with Tim's parents. Monday, we had a big family walk with time at the playground and then Avery's three year checkup (90th percentile for height; 50th percentile for weight; obviously built like her dad and doing great all around). Then, we bought stuff and began getting things ready for Avery's birthday party with a few of her friends this coming weekend.

Life is a lot of fun with the little one.

Tonight, I'm meeting a friend for dinner that I worked with many, many years ago. I ran into her on the street a couple of weeks ago and we're going to catch up tonight. I'm excited!

Okay, Fine!

So maybe my hair is not the only reason I didn't want this published.

I'm Pretty Sure We Slow-Danced To "Wrapped Around Your Finger"

This, ladies and gentlemen, THIS is what I love about Facebook. (And I only wish I had the courage to scan our junior prom photo. I'm pretty good about being able to laugh at myself...but my hair in that photo is more sad than funny.)

Junior Prom Date:

"You know, you are actually one of my biggest high school regrets, that I was such a jerk to you and we didn't become better friends. Can't change the past, though."

Me:

"Well, if there's one thing I love to hear, it's that I'm someone's biggest regret. If it is any consolation, I don't remember you being a jerk to me. Either you weren't, or I have a horrible memory."

JPD:

"OK, well now my new biggest regret was actually telling you that."

It's Like Pulling Teeth

On Friday, I'm getting three wisdom teeth extracted. (Insert "can you spare that?" joke here.)

It's not the pain I'm afraid of...it's the noise. And because I'm a big technology retard, I don't own an iPod to bring with me to drown out the sounds of long roots being wrenched from my jaw.

Which is more painful? Listening to this procedure or enduring the humiliation of bringing a Walkman in with me?

I Live My Life Like A French Movie

And I have no idea what that means, except that it is a line from "Singles" and it makes me laugh because I remembered it as coming from an angry mime played by Eric Stoltz. And really, what isn't funny when coming from an angry mime? (However, it was actually another character who said it...big mistake on the part of the screenplay writer.)

Speaking of movies -- my friend, Meredith, is in a film that was just selected for the Big Apple Film Festival. (Go, Mer!) (Actually, the movie is called, "Go, Fish!") Of course, this gives me a reason to go to NYC at the end of November to go to the screening. (Hoping this gives me and edge and makes me cool, mainly because...

...I'm actually considering going to see "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" this week. (which, incidentally, did not get selected for the Big Apple Film Festival.)

And finally, in other this-is-unrelated-except-that-it-also-involves-media news, Amanda and Leon are going to a wedding this weekend where Bob, the awesome trainer from The Biggest Loser, will also be a guest. Amanda is under strict orders to convince him that he needs to do a "Smallest Loser" for the dilettantes.

I leave you with this:

"You're a mime! Aren't you supposed to not speak?"

"YES!"

Cape May Va-Cay

How I love the beach in the off-season. And with Canetto and with my Pants. (Note to readers: I also enjoy the beach in the off-season with Canetto and without my PANTS, but I'll spare the details in this family blog.) And Cape May is just beautiful.

Some highlights of our trip:

- Visiting the Cape May lighthouse. Avery walked up and down the 199 steps and loved looking down at the view (she's pretty fearless at this age), and then did a 1.5 mile nature walk with us. All part of "Operation Wear Her Out".

- Going on a horse and carriage ride around the historic neighborhoods in Cape May.

- Flying a kite on the beach. Avery was a rock star – Tim was going to show her how to fly it, but she took it from him and totally took charge and flew the kite like a pro.

- Taking the ferry from Lewes, Delaware to Cape May.

- Having lunch at Dogfish Head Brewery in Delaware on the way to the beach, and eating at Freda's Cafe and the Mad Batter in Cape May. Good stuff.

- Realizing what a sweetie we have when one morning Canetto brought some mini donuts to the hotel for Avery (and a gigantor coffee for me). That child LOVES donuts, and she tore open the package and then offered one to both me and her dad before having one herself.

- Going to Casale's Shoes to meet Kath Connolly's cousin, who married into the Casale shoe empire.

- Fudge samples and the animatronic "cook guy" (Avery's words) in the fudge store window. (If you asked her, she'd probably say this was her favorite part of the trip.)

- Going on the craptacular rides at the arcade and winning enough tickets there to score the following high-quality prizes: fingercuffs, plastic vampire teeth, a novelty cigar and temporary tattoos for all of us.

- Avery "calling" her friends from the hotel phone and saying, “How you doing? Pretty good? I miss you, Sabrina and Logan. We’re at the hotel at the beach. Wanna come?”

- A woman mounting her boyfriend? husband? lover? on a park bench in broad daylight. Sweetie...no one needs to see that.

Nicely done, New Jersey. Any state that is the home to both a beautiful beach and Standard Nippleworks is okay in my book.