I'd Eat Soap For This Man

Just got pinged by an old friend on Facebook with the following:

Darren says, "Uh, is there any reason you stopped talking to me? I finally found you ... and I can stalk you all over again. I'm sorry for anything I may have done or said or peed on...".

(Some history: Darren is the first person who talked to me in high school when I was still in my so-shy-I-could-barely-make-eye-contact-with-anyone-phase. Therefore, I immediately fell in love with him and had a crush on him all through high school. Darren, in turn, had a crush on the quarterback of the football team all through high school, so I just added another notch to my "unrequited love" belt. At one point, I actually did get him drunk enough to make out with me, which prompted his official coming out. I wouldn't take this so personally if the EXACT SAME THING didn't happen to me again with another guy in college. Apparently, making out with me can be so profoundly disturbing that it can make you want to play for the other team.)

Anyway, Darren lives in DC and I love him, but years go by without us seeing each other. Maybe he thinks I'm gonna try to get him drunk and make out with him again...

It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

Yesterday afternoon, Canetto, Avery and I went to see the Nats play at the new Nationals stadium. Our next door neighbors have season tickets and were not going to this game, so they gave us the tickets. Since we had four tickets, we invited Craig, another neighbor, to come with us. I always kid Tim that Craig is his best friend -- even though Craig is old enough to be his father. Craig has keys to our house and takes care of the cats when we're on vacation and keeps an eye on our house at all other times. He and Tim go on hikes together, and Tim always trusts Craig's expert advice on everything from yard care to financial planning.

It got me thinking that in our little cul-de-sac, we have another neighbor who brought over several bags of clothes the other day for Avery that her daughter had outgrown, and we have a couple of other neighbors who bring by toys that their kids have outgrown. Still other neighbors organize a Memorial Day and Labor Day cookout for our street, and bring by cookies and bread at holiday time.

In such a transitional area, we are so lucky to have so many great neighbors that we know and like and who are invested in making our neighborhood a nice place to live.

GagReflex@gmail.com

For the people who never got over the popularity decline of personalized license plates -- e-mail addresses are here to fill the void!

A neighbor on the neighborhood distribution list?

icanmom@gmail.com
(although, I guess that's better than totalfailureasamom@yahoo.com

A friend of mine once had someone send her a resume for a top position on an overseas project. The e-mail address?

darlindumplin@gmail.com

I'm thinking of registering for "almosttheformermrscanedo" or "yourenotmybabydaddy". Purely for job search purposes, of course.

The Post That Is All About Paper

Beginning with my appointment at the orthopaedist this morning...When the nurse brought me into the examining room, he asked, "Did you bring shorts?" and I replied, "No, nobody mentioned that I should." So he handed me a pair of paperish material, elastic waist-banded, one-size-fits-all (ergo, HUGE) crime against fashion "shorts" and left me in the room to put them on.

I endured the humiliation, figuring the (of course -- handsome) doctor would be the only one to see me. He was, until he decided that he needed x-rays of my knees, and had the x-ray technician come to retrieve me. She had me add to the ensemble by making me put on paperish booties and follow her down the hallway past all of the other examining rooms and the nurses' station.

I know they probably see a million people in the paper outfits every day -- but I'm counting on the fact that at least one person in the office is as immature as I am and finds it hilarious to see people in these get-ups.

Also in the world of paper -- I bought Avery a package of those paper plates that are all different kinds of animals. She loves to eat on her plastic Minnie Mouse plate, so I figured the animal plates would also be a big hit. They were -- but not for the reason I imagined. Instead of eating on them, she passes them out (all twenty of them) so they take up a significant amount of floor space in whatever room we're in. Then, she'll stack them back up, and then pass them out again. I can't figure out if she has OCD, is autistic, or is just a dullard. All I know is that if I want a few minutes peace these days, I just say excitedly, "Hey -- do you want to play with your animal plates?" I'm not kidding when I say that the animal plates rate almost as high as the Disney World trip on the excitement meter. Let this be a lesson to all new parents out there (well, those with OCD/autistic/dullard children, anyway).

After she passed the plates out this morning, I said, "wow...you're great at that, you should help me with Amy's party in a few weeks -- do you know we're having a party for Amy?" and she said, "you're having a baby shower!" and I said "right...and do you know who else is coming -- Nicole and Amanda..." and she asked, "and Leon?" --and I said, "no, sweetie, because Uncle Leon hates babies."

King Of All Words I Hate

oblong

Try to say that without hating it. You can't.

We Prolly Won't Party Like It's 1999

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary. We're kinda low-key about these things, although we do have a babysitter tonight and plan to go out for a nice dinner in Vienna. This morning, Canetto gave me a card and I told him I loved him and he said, "I want a divorce." Really...is there a more perfect guy for me?

(Note from the past: When I worked at NRA, one of my co-workers wrote on his desk calender, without a hint of irony, "Hunt and get hitched" for a particular weekend.)

A More Circuitous Route

I am very deadline-driven. I work and write very fast and often don't begin a work deliverable until I am dangerously close to the deadline. The impending deadline functions as a motivator and also allows me to work toward my personal goal of reaching the end of the Internet in the interim. (It's a wonderful place! There are blogs about poop! And you can look up Fina (name withheld because it comes up when you google it and she's now a teacher in upstate New York) -- the girl from kindergarten who was a notorious nose-picker!)

This has served me well in my many years in the work force -- to the point where I sometimes still forget to factor in that I have a kid, who is working toward HER personal goal of proving how little control her parents now have over their own lives.

With about five things due today, I got a call from Avery's school yesterday afternoon telling me to pick her up immediately because she has pink eye. (Note to anyone who wants to get all like, "where's Tim in this situation?" -- he makes twice the amount of money I do, and works twice as far away from Avery's school as I do. We decided early on that if anyone was going to take time away from their job to handle this type of thing...it would be me.) So there.

After three hours yesterday afternoon spent in urgent care (her pediatrician had no more appointments) and then at the pharmacy, where she prompty pooped (I didn't have the diaper bag with me), and said loudly, "boys don't have pony tails" (in earshot of the cashier, the stock guy and the pharmacist -- all of whom were boys with ponytails), I then had to come home and work until about 10:00pm to get things ready to deliver to the client today.

Why Do We Play Rock 'N Roll? To Stick It To The Man

On Saturday, May 3rd, Canetto and I are taking Avery to see The Sippy Cups in concert in DC.

Can you just imagine the Toddler Groupies throwing diapers on stage? Having a mini mosh pit? Getting a contact buzz from the baby powder?

The Correct Answer Is Three Times, So She's Close

Conversation in the car this weekend:

(Me): "Avery -- look! An airplane!"

(Avery): "I see it way up high!"

(Me): "You've been in an airplane before. Do you know how many times?"

(Avery, pausing contemplatively): "Umm...fifty hundred and a half."

You Like Pink? So Do I -- Let's Be Best Friends!

Dori (a friend from my semester in London group) came over Saturday with her 4-year-old daughter, Catie. The girls were instant BFFs -- bonding over things such as Crocs, Disney World and Sesame Place. We walked to the park and played and then came back home and played. Dori and I, meanwhile, looked through the scrapbooks we made from our semester abroad and simultaneously reminisced and wondered why we didn't remember as much as we should have (alcohol was the verdict). This was the first time I had seen Dori in over 15 years. She looks great and is just as hilarious as ever. Fun day.

A Big Steamin' Pile O' Cuteness

Just too much cuteness to contain, so I'll just list them:

• When sitting down to read a book announces, "criss cross applesauce" and then plops down in a cross-legged position
• Wants to dance all the time...and will imitate me when I teach her the swim, the twist and particularly, the watusi
• Keeps talking about our trip to the "li-bary" and has had me read each of the seven books we checked out two days ago about 87 times each
• Ran around for about a solid hour last night at Fairfax Corner, then had strawberry ice cream with sprinkles from Ben & Jerry's (is there anything cuter than a two-year old eating ice cream?)
• Continues to set up "parties" all over her play room, her bedroom, the sun room, the stairs, our room and the guest room -- she puts all her play food out and then lines her dolls up around the perimeter as the party guests. She takes this hosting thing seriously
• Fills in words to songs when I sing them and deliberately leave out words. Then I'll say, "good job, Avery". Then she'll sing the same song and let ME fill in words and will then say, "good job, Mama"

Actually, These Might Be Too Scary

Scott is helping me come up with a character name for a "Dr. Evil"-type character in a video I'm producing for (undisclosed government client).

So far, we've come up with the following terrifying names:

Ann Coulter
Minivan
Zima
Thomas Kinkeade
Skid Mark
Attorney
Precious Moments Figurine
Spam
France
Audit
Clamato Juice
Bridesmaid dress

Goodge Street Memories

So, my friend, Brad, from our semester in London group e-mailed me last night (first time we've been in contact in 20 years) with this:

"F-ing bacon....F-ing cheese..."

That was the extent of the message. I totally remember this being an inside joke from our semester over there, but don't remember who said it or what it was in reference to.

I cannot wait for this reunion.

Pretty

I've never felt more like a real runner than I did last night, when the toenail that has been threatening to fall off since the 1/2 marathon finally did.

Oh...and my knees feel arthritic since the Cherry Blossom 10-miler, too.

I'm sexy.

Is That An Irreconcilable Difference?

Ernest Borgnine & Ethel Merman
Married: June 26, 1964
Split after 32 days

The coupling of thrice-wed Broadway belter Ethel Merman and twice-wed Oscar-winner Ernest Borgnine is one of the kookiest in Hollywood history. The unlikely duo's knot began unraveling on their honeymoon, when, according to Borgnine, he garnered the lion's share of fan attention, which left Merman seething. "By the time we got home, it was hell on earth," he recalled in 2001. "And after 32 days I said to her, 'Madam, bye.'" But things weren't exactly coming up roses for the Merm: she was allegedly subjected to the silent and deadly "Dutch Oven," which involved Borgnine releasing toxic fumes in bed while trapping her under the sheets. Merman, who never again married, devoted a chapter of her autobiography to the Borgnine marriage: It consisted of one blank page.

So Much For Diversity

A friend of mine who shall remain nameless went to a wedding recently.
At the wedding, she and her husband were seated at the same table as a transgendered sportswriter and a Russian swinger.
Ho-hum.

Swapping*

My friend, Heidi, hosts a clothing swap every year. People bring gently used or never worn clothes and swap them for other stuff -- other "new to them" clothes, shoes, accessories, etc. Anything that is not taken at the end of the swap is donated to charity.

I've gone to this for the past two years, and each time, I score a TON of clothes for Avery. (Heidi's sister-in-law always comes with hand me downs from her daughter who is a year or so older than Avery.) And...I usually get a few cool things for myself.

Such a fun way to shop -- especially because it also involves food and drink the whole time you're "shopping."

And of course, because the event is all about reusing and recycling...we can totally jump on the "we've gone green" bandwagon.

(*not a swinger reference. for once. though, swinging is hilarious.)

Bloody 'ell, Twenty Years Already?

I spent the second half of my junior year in college abroad at the University of London. We were a group of 30 students -- 23 girls and 7 guys. Of the 7 guys, one was gay, one was part of a couple whose girlfriend was also in the group, one was part of a couple whose girlfriend was back in the states and one was dating (and ended up marrying, one of the girls in the group). Of the remaining three guys, somehow my friend, Carrie, and I ended up with two of them -- and both couples ended up dating for more than six years before breaking up and marrying other people.

This spring marks the 20th anniversary of our trip to London. (We left on my birthday -- January 27, 1988 -- so I turned 21 somewhere over the Atlantic and landed in London where the drinking age was 18 -- I remember thinking this was so unfair at the time.) A life-changing trip in every single way. One of our group members is planning a reunion for the late summer/early fall here in Northern Virginia. I'm so excited for this. Of all the people I met during college, these are some of the ones I got to know (and like) best.

Cherry Blossom 10-Miler

This posting is a late, because everything about this race sucked ass. Well, everything after mile 5, anyway. And the course -- the course was new this year and was beautiful. If it had been a 5-mile race, it would have probably been our best race, ever. We had an amazing and comfortable pace going for the first half. Amanda's friend, Victoria, ran with us for the first half and entertained us with wedding planning stories...see, she weighs about three pounds and can run a 10-mile race faster than we can without the benefit of structured training...which means she can run AND talk at a pretty good pace.


As it was, it was very cold and rainy and Amanda's hip injury re-surfaced at about mile five and I stopped being able to breathe around the same time (from being sick the week leading up to the run). We told Victoria to go ahead at this point, since she was still doing great. We had to walk some of the race, but by the final mile, Amanda found some inner champion and did the last mile in 9:21!!! She finished the course in 1:40.24 -- which is a great time, especially considering the challenges we had. I was not able to channel anything but an inner feeb, and ended up finishing in 1:42.09 (thanks to a woman running alongside me who refused to let me walk even though that is all I wanted to do).

In retrospect...running this so soon after the 1/2 marathon was probably not a great idea. I've been pounding the glucosamine ever since. At the same time, I'm itching to run this again next year in a much better time.

Smartypants Is The New Black

I had a short work day yesterday. Spent about six hours reviewing tape at a studio in Maryland...and another couple hours doing the drive to and from. I picked Avery up about an hour earlier than I normally do, and since it was beautiful outside, we decided to take the cats out back so they could sun themselves and eat grass.

I got a beer and Avery got a juice box and we sat on the chaise lounges out back while the cats did their thing. We just chilled...or as Avery said, "we're relaxin"

When we got to school this morning, she wanted to stay in the car and listen to the Dixie Chicks' version of "The Rainbow Connection" that I play for her sometimes. So...I started playing it and she sang along, "...rainbows are visions...but only illusions...and rainbows have nothing to hide..."
She had the tune and the words absolutely right.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

We've been having a tough couple of weeks with Avery at school. A lot of her friends have moved up to the next class, having passed the critical milestones of turning three and getting potty trained. Avery is just 2 1/2, and has always been friends with the kids who are older than her, so this is an adjustment, as is getting used to the influx of a bunch of new, younger kids in her current class. (She has absolute and obvious disdain for kids who cry a lot and kids who cannot speak as well as she does, so dropping her off lately has been a lesson both in patience and in effective removal of a kid from various parts of my body.)

Fortunately, her BFF in the whole wide world (Ava) is still in the same class, but she turned three yesterday. Apologies to her parents, but I selfishly hope the kid isn't potty-trained until she's at least 3 1/2 so she and Avery can stay together. Ava usually gets to school later than Avery which sucks, because she really helps ease Avery into the day.

We were in the middle of a toddler-ectomy this morning, when Ava and her dad came in and the heavens opened and the angels sang. Avery totally lit up and the the two girls got all smiley and then Ava came over and hugged her. Of course, I went from lifeline to style-cramper in that time, and as I was walking out, Ava and Avery were toasting each other across the table, saying "cheers" and touching their pop tarts and then dissolving into fits of laughter.

SuperAwful

Okay, what is it that I don't get about Seth Rogan? I'm no prude (I think the Farrelly brothers are quite adept at being gross while still being funny), but I cannot help but be disgusted by his graphic filth -- which is mostly at the expense of true comedy. His writing is the same as his acting...he's never met a scene that he cannot make way longer than it needs to be, to the point of sucking every last bit of possible humor right out of it.

A handful of people that I know have good senses of humor told me to rent "Superbad" and that it was hilarious. It totally left me scratching my head. Seriously...what is it that I'm missing? I also hated "Knocked Up." If you want audiences to believe that a gorgeous, successful woman is going to fall for a fat, sloppy pot head you need to give him some qualities that make him somewhat likable.

Ugh. What a waste of celluloid.

Reading Is Fundamental

I still get MAD magazine. I subscribed impulsively last year, thinking I would still enjoy it as much as when I was a kid, especially since my humor has never progressed beyond about the third grade level.

It's not the same experience for me now. I don't even recognize half the television shows and movies that they parody. Plus, I just don't have the patience to look at all the tiny frames and illustrations that I used to love. And Spy vs. Spy -- could that BE any more violent?

Avery, on the other hand, loves it. Once she sees Alfred E. Neumann on the cover, she takes the magazine and keeps it with her other "stuff." Then, at bedtime when we ask her which books she wants to read, she inevitably says, "Alfred E. Neumann."

I wonder when this little science experiment we like to call "parenting" is gonna blow up in our faces?

Agreed

From Amanda, about someone she went to school with:

"She's the crazy Mormon who stopped speaking to me and turned all my friends against me (five of them signed a letter telling me that they hated me) in 7th grade because I "shit" in her presence."

Which caused me to reply, "can you please explain the circumstances of how you "shit" in her presence?"

And she wrote back, "should've read, I SAID "shit" in her presence. Oh my god, I'm laughing so hard now. I think I would hate someone if they just shit in my presence.

Don't Cross Them Or You'll Be Swimming With The Relish

An ex-boyfriend of mine (I initially mis-typed that as "boyFIEND" which is actually kinda appropriate) had a circle of friends that was made up of quite a cast of characters.

Two of these were a couple: Young Man and Hurricane Rube. Said ex-boyfriend claimed that Rube's family had a ton of money because her father was part of an organized crime syndicate in Pittsburgh that pretty much owned all of the hot dog carts in the city. He also said never to mention this to her, because she didn't think anyone knew about her ties to the hot dog mob.

Once, we went to a cookout with Young Man and Rube. Rube contributed a bunch of hot dogs that her father had given her, saying they were the best hot dogs we would ever taste. Fortified by about 8 beers, I bit into one and said, "If I don't tell you this is the best hot dog I've ever eaten are you gonna have me whacked?"

The Tweener Years Are Gonna Rock

Avery was being adorable this weekend (it's what she does). At one point I said to her, "I don't want to you grow up too fast and leave me." To which she replied, "I will grow up fast, but I will come back and visit you because I love you."

And when we were driving in the car later that same day, I said to her, "Look at all the pretty trees in bloom. Everything blooms and looks pretty in the spring time." And she said, "The trees and the flowers are waking up because it's spring time."

Then, to even things out, we were playing in the front yard last night, and she threw a fit at one point -- and we don't know why. She started running away from us, saying, "I'm running away. You're.not.my.friends.anymore.mommy.and.daddy." I was all like, "Canetto...she totally gets this emotional roller-coaster stuff from your side of the family." Then we both died laughing.

Time Again For This Already?

On March 16th, Amanda and I ran the Shamrock 1/2 Marathon. This Sunday? We're running the Cherry Blossom 10-miler. This week? Been all congested and sore throat-y. Would love the added advantage of actually being able to breathe for this race. (Note to Amanda: You do realize that all this build up is the foundation of an excuse for me when you kick my ass in the race, don't you?)

Hopefully, the race photos from this one are a little better than the last -- where I looked like I was in sheer agony for the whole race, and appeared to even be in the fetal position right before crossing the finish line.

Fringe Benefits

Working for a PR firm definitely has its perks. My friend, Hillary, far left...my friend, Jon Stewart, front and center. (According to Hillary...as they were taking this picture, Jon put his arms around the ladies and exclaimed, "this is the best prom EVER!" -- he is the greatest.)

Guess this makes up for the recent gifts she's had to endure from her mother-in-law: t-shirts for her 2-year-old that say: "Daddy Thinks He's In Charge" and "2 Cute 4 Timeout"