Self-Awareness

Aside from hurting an animal or a person, there's not a lot I would refuse to do for five million dollars.

Scandal!

http://forbesparkcon.blogspot.com/2008/05/secrets-of-manny-pangilinan-and-david.html

I have absolutely nothing to do with this, and yet I get a mention. I love that!

Spot On. From Weingarten's Gene Pool.

Observations: Male vs Female, Feeding Ducks At A Pond

Female: attempts to distribute bread evenly among ducks. Tries to make sure smallest duck gets some extra pieces. Gets annoyed at duck bullies. Gives some bread to stranger's child.

Male: attempts to land bread pieces on duck's back. Throws entire slice of bread to see if ducks fight over it. Throws bread to one side, then the other, to make ducks swim back and forth. Tries to see if ducks will also eat tacos.

As Sweet As She Is Beautiful

Without A Leg To Stand On

At the risk of sounding like a big, fat whiner...I'm gonna be a big, fat whiner.

My freaking legs and knees have been KILLING me since running the 1/2 marathon and Cherry Blossom 10-miler within a few weeks of each other. I've been on anti-inflammatories and have been icing my knees, and I see small improvements, and then they hurt again. (And I have a very high tolerance for pain -- after all, I dated Rob for three years.)

The orthopaedist did not find anything serious wrong with me (physically, anyway) so I wasn't scared until last night when I noticed that left leg was extra-sore, swollen and sporting a cankle. I think the visual hurts almost more than the actual pain.

For chrissakes...I'm so miserable and miserable to be around right now. Poor Canetto. Last night, I just cried because it hurt so badly. Maybe I can get a leg transplant -- Angelina Jolie seems like a benevolent type -- hmmmm....

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"

Now That's Just Gross

Wreckfast At Tiffany's

Tonight, we decided we should get a little culture and went to the free exhibit at the Arlington Arts Center. This was a graffiti art exhibit featuring live painting, DJs, fashion and a panel discussion about graffiti and hip-hop.

When we got there, Avery was fascinated with the graffiti artists outside, and plopped herself in the grass nearby to watch them create, asking questions the whole time. When we went inside the center, they had a great exhibit and Tim and I took turns listening to the panel discussion, which was really interesting.

It was a cool thing to do, improved by the fact that Tim is now in glasses for three weeks leading up to his lasik surgery, and the glasses he got are rectangular with thick black frames, making him look tres artsy-fartsy. Also, my toddler mistakenly thought an exceptionally beautiful (and much younger) woman was me -- running up to her and screaming, "mommy." (That part was cute. The part where I could see the wheels turning in Mr. Artsy Fartsy's brain about how he could replace me with the better "mommy" with Avery being none the wiser -- not so much.)

Anyway, when we left, we talked about going for a drink since it was only 8:00pm. Tim and I were non-committal. Avery, on the other hand, was all for it, piping in from her car seat, "I wanna go for a drink!" So, we drove into Clarendon and looked for parking...and she helpfully noted, "there's a spot." We ultimately decided to head home, worried about the possible smoke and noise factor, and also the impending bedtime factor (ours, not hers -- the kid is a party).

With Strings Attached

About four years ago, I decided that I HAD TO HAVE A CELLO. I played it for a few years when I was a kid, and was determined that it was something I needed to do again. (Why can't I have a normal mid-life crisis?)

My gem-of-a-husband indulged this and let me buy a cello for $700 on Craigs List (I mention the price only to underscore the "gem" part of that sentence. Until about a year ago, Canetto and I ran any purchase of more than $50 by each other before making it -- that's how conscious we are about where our money goes). He took it to the music store in Oakton and had the bridge replaced and had it tuned. I took lessons for a while and then, as with every other thing in my life that could potentially become a hobby, I promptly lost interest (see http://dilettanteclub.blogspot.com/).

This monstrosity has been sitting in Avery's closet for a few years now and I figure it's just a matter of time before it gets destroyed...so I'm selling it. Along with every other thing in the house that is not nailed down. My huge spring purge and housecleaning has begun (kicked off last night with an oven cleaning at 11:30pm).

Tonight's festivities include cleaning the ceiling fan blades and putting the toys Avery has outgrown into the sub-basement. The truly pathetic part? Just how happy all of this makes me. Cleaning and organizing make me happier than almost anything (I said "almost," beer. Don't worry -- you'll always make me happiest.)

Some People Call Him The Space Cowboy

We have a neighbor at the end of the cul-de-sac named Steve Miller. He, of course, plays in a band. I love that way too much.

Because You NEED A Favorite Euphemism For That

"Roughin' up the suspect" -- my new favorite euphemism for masturbation.

And I Thought That Was Just Good Common Sense

On Friday when I picked Avery up from school, I asked her how her day was. She replied, "Jimmy had diarrhea." Then, with huge eyes and a very concerned tone in her voice, she continued, "We don't eat that."

I'm glad we're paying through the nose to send her to school so that she can learn these things, because, frankly, I never thought that was a lesson I had to teach.

When I shared this story with my friend, Amy, she said, "you know, from now on when I have a bad day, I'm just going to sum it up with "Jimmy had diarrhea."

It is kind of perfect.

I Could Never Be A Receptionist At This Law Firm

In Virginia Beach last weekend, I saw a law firm sign for "Shuttleworth, Ruloff, Swain, Haddad & Morecock, PC"

This would be me, answering the phone:

"Shuttleworth, Ruloff, Swain, Haddad & Morecock" (giggle giggle)

Poops Diarrhea (Er, Peeps Diorama)

We did not win this year -- >sigh< -- more than 800 entries? Is this some kind of weird new subculture like Civil War reenacting? Read the devastating news below:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/03/13/AR2008031303556.html

May The Road Rise Up To Meet You...May The WIND BE AT YOUR BACK...

...and not hitting you in the face at 25 mph for the first 6 miles of the Shamrock 1/2 marathon (better known as a "fake" marathon to our supportive spouses, Leon and Tim).

This morning for the Shamrock 1/2 marathon in Va. Beach, we were dealing with massive headwinds for almost the first half of the race. We did a freaking impressive 9:40/mile average for these six miles. (Sham-rock on, Mungywamp Mangy!)

After we turned into Fort Story (just past our cheering section -- Leon, Krennie, Canetto and Avery) -- the race got HARD. Ugh. Think we were going a little fast reaching our fans and got off pace a little.

Tough weather conditions, but a great race nonetheless. Amanda and I both came in well within our goal of a 2:10-2:15 time (Me at 2:09.53, her at 2:12.23)! And...we know that we're totally gonna kick ass in the Cherry Blossom 10-miler in three weeks.

And, we got MEDALS, which is really the whole reason to do something like this in the first place.

Princess Underfoot

Having a two-year old is a riot. Avery is constantly asking me, "What are you doing? Can I have some? What is that?" about everything I do. And she also wants to be right in the middle of everything.

Earlier this week, she was very interested in watching me put on my makeup. As I explained what each cosmetic was and put it on my face, she asked if she "could have some, too." I obliged her, then in the morning chaos that is our lives, forgot all about it and we headed off for school and work.

Later that day, it struck me that her teachers must have wondered why I had gone all JonBenet on my daughter.

Is That A Shillelagh In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Sunday is the Shamrock 1/2 marathon in Virginia Beach. The last three miles of the race are on Atlantic Avenue, which has numbered cross streets...so we'll know exactly how long we have left in the race as we go from 89th to 31st streets.

The course is a lot flatter than the one on which we trained...and the weather is still supposed to be on the cool side, with maybe a little rain. Amanda and I are ready...nervous, but ready. If all stars are in alignment and we both have a good run that day, there may still be a chance that we make our goal time of 2:10. Wish us the luck of the Irish!

Kids Are Ridiculous

Avery announced to me this weekend that she is 'getting ready for the run with Amanda' by putting stuff aside to pack for our trip to Virginia Beach. This includes a couple of decorative pillows, many of her books, a couple of spatulas and Tim's brush.

She has also decided that she now needs to wear deodorant. A short play:

Kathleen (quizzically, sniffing at Avery): "Why does my daughter smell like Mennen speed stick?"

Tim:

Our Life On The "T" List

A few weeks ago, we found ourselves in Target on a Saturday afternoon, even after I swore we would never again do this on a weekend. During that outing, we ran into one of Avery's friends from day care and her parents; and a neighbor and their 2-year old daughter.

Just yesterday, we were back at Target again (we're masochists) and this time, ran into my company's HR director and Avery's BEST friend from day care and her parents.

I'm not one to brag, but we are such an integral part of the Target social register.

BETTER Tom Swifties

"Ecstasy is the only thing that could make this dance party better," Tom raved.

"I just cannot deal with these children anymore," Tom said, with abandon.

"My driving record is spotless," Tom said, recklessly.

THIS Is What Almost-50 Looks Like

Has she EVER looked better?

Jason Castro

I'm a total sucker for American Idol. Not all seasons...but most.
This year? The love totally goes to Jason Castro. Not only does
he have a great voice and pick great songs -- he's interesting.
Loved his "daydream" song and also Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"
(though I do prefer k.d. lang's, truth be told). (We'll gloss over
the BeeGees debacle that was week 2 -- gak!)

Anyway...I hope he doesn't win, but instead gets some kind of
cool record deal that showcases that voice

Two-Hander

This is Jimmy and Cathy's new baby -- an English Mastiff named Sophie. (Insert collective "awwww" here.) She's gorgeous and will apparently grow to be larger than Cathy (she's a small adult human...but still, an adult human) in the next several months. Their vet let them know that at that point, Sophie's fecal expressions of love will become a "two-handed" affair. Makes lap dogs seem a little less annoying, doesn't it?

I Can't Even Count That High

From an astute Project Runway fan: "Sure, Posh was a big fan of the winner. But she has been on worst-dressed lists more often than Charo was a guest star on the Love Boat."

Blog, Thy Name Is Brutalism

Thought I'd clear up why this blog is named what it is. (Figured if Canetto didn't know, then my huge audience of three may not, either).

I chose the name after Canetto and I went to Chicago and did the architecture boat tour. There we learned of a style of architecture called "brutalism." Some say this style is unfriendly and uncommunicative -- others say it is integrating and protective. Still others say that the style disregards the social, historic and architectural environment of its surroundings, which makes it seem starkly out of place and alien. (I feel like I'm back in AP Art History -- gag -- primarily because I just copied that word-for-word from an on-line encyclopedia.)

The style looks rough and unfinished...that's the main reason I thought it would be a good name for a blog. Rarely are my entries thought out or even edited...they're just sort of thrown out there. (Perhaps, then, I should have called it "Kathleen -- after two bottles of Prosecco")

SWAG

For once, my affinity for time-wasting via the Washington Post chats has paid off. Sure, I've had my comments posted before, and have a running "Sloppy Carl" gag that I toss into Weingarten's chat periodically. But today's comment for the Fashion chat has resulted in STUFF. To wit:

Suzanne D'Amato: Good morning, everyone. Janet and I are here to help sort out all of your spring fashion issues. Wondering what to wear next season? Send us your questions! And once again, we have a special treat for two lucky readers. We're giving away luxe beauty goodies to the two chatters who have the best, funniest, most insightful comments/questions. Today we've got a trio of body scrubs by French brand Caudalie, plus a Kiehl's cleanser and toner duo that is suitable for all skin types. So get ready to wow me and Janet with your clever comments. At the end of the hour, we'll announce who's won our contest. Without further ado... let's talk shop.

THIS IS ME:
Fashionistas: I love shoes -- and sometimes buy kinda eclectic ones thinking that the perfect occasion or outfit will materialize. Sometimes it works -- like when I wore my psychedelic 70s "groove is in the heart" platform shoes with an orange dress to a friend's California wedding. However, I bought a pair of fabulous shoes that I do not know what to do with. I ordered these from the Boden catalog --they are black and white dalmation print (stay with me here) with a kitten heel and red trim. They're totally cool...but I have no idea what to wear with these so that they don't look costume-y. (or is that just a lost cause?) Any ideas? Signed, Cruella DeVille

Suzanne D'Amato: Your shoes sound absolutely fierce, and not too hard to match at all. We featured a very similar-sounding pair in Sunday Source some time ago, with a red dress and black opaque tights. If that sounds too matchy-matchy, you could certainly pair them with jeans, perhaps with a Chanel-esque tweedy jacket. Other colors are fine to add into the mix, but I'd make sure they're of a similar intensity with the red. (No pastels.) Also, need I add that you should not wear anything else that brings to mind the call of the wild? No zebra stripes, leopard spots, or anything else of the sort.

And the goodies:
Their choices for winners: Suzanne D'Amato: Thanks so much for joining us today! Janet and I are pleased to announce the winners in our beauty giveaway. To Cruella de Ville, owner of the dalmatian-print shoes, we offer the Caudalie gift set. To the chatter who wrote in with the tip on Target's retro-enamel accessories, we have the Kiehl's cleansing duo. Please email me at trendspotter@washpost.com with your name and mailing address, and we'll get your prizes shipped out to you. And to everyone else, see you again in two weeks!

Tom Swifties

I remember these from when I was a kid and totally love them:

“Who would want to steal modern art?" asked Tom abstractedly.
“There's room for one more," Tom admitted.
"My investments are worth more every day," said Tom appreciatively
“I’ll never pat a lion again,” Tom said offhandedly.
“My pencil is broken,” Tom said pointlessly.
"I fought with Geronimo," said Tom bravely.
"Here's your allowance for the next two weeks," Tom advanced.
"I have to keep this fire alight," Tom bellowed.
"This wind is awful," blustered Tom.
"I've only enough carpet for the hall and landing," said Tom with a blank stare.
"I think I'll use a different font," said Tom boldly.
"I presented my case to the judge," Tom said briefly.
"Use your own toothbrush!" Tom bristled.

Love Beads

While we were stringing beads last night, Avery put a bead with a heart on it on the necklace she was making for me. She looked at me and said, "I'm using a heart bead because I love you so much."

When we were hanging out yesterday morning, she told me that she was having a party -- and proceeded to set out all her mardi gras beads along with a bunch of her play food (pretty similar set up to the Oscar party I had a week ago). She loved every minute of that party -- how cute is she? She went up and down the stairs carrying stuff for her "party" -- wearing her little green union suit jammies with "Avery" embroidered on the butt. I hope I remember these moments forever.

Peep Show

Okay, now that the deadline has passed for the Washington Post Peeps diorama contest, and we have submitted our entry -- here it is: Peeps on Strike -- a Peep interpretation of the WGA writer's strike.

Yuck-tacular (Thanks for the Headline, Amanda)

I.Could.Not.Make.This.Stuff.Up
A former boss of mine e-mailed me this morning, asking if I would want to model for a sleepwear catalog that he photographs. Um?

And I Did It All In An Ethel Merman Voice, Too

Avery is currently in love with a book called "The Terrible Underpants."

We have to read it as many as three times in a row at bedtime. It's a story about a girl (Wanda-Linda) and her pet wombat (Glenda) and the fact that Wanda-Linda needs to get dressed for school and cannot find any nice underpants to wear, so she is forced to wear the "terrible" underpants (they are baggy and stretched out and have a juice stain on them). (For the record, the baggy and stretched out I can understand...but how does one get a juice stain on their underpants?)

Anyway...she loves this book. And this morning as we were driving to school, she asked me to SING "The Terrible Underpants."

So, I sang it. I came up with a tune and sang the story of the Terrible Underpants. It must have been okay, because Avery was laughing her head off in the back seat.

Well, Those People Are Idiots

Some people may think it's a great idea to go to Virginia Beach and back with a toddler, then shop for party food and stay up late prepping it, then go for a 10-mile run the next morning and not bother to nap or eat much afterward or for the rest of the day because they are busy setting up for the party. These people might then think that drinking several glasses of champagne followed up by several glasses of red wine and very little to eat makes a lot of sense.

Fun While It Lasted

According to my alumni profile on the GMU web site, I am now a widow.
Yes, it creeped me out a little yesterday when I saw that. Tim's profile was deleted completely and mine now lists me as a widow.
Either there is a technological glitch that changed only my marital status, or someone is messing around with me. Either way...eeeewwww.

Sphincter-rific!

I went to my OB/GYN yesterday for my annual appointment.

He and his nurse are very, very nice. She always remembers that I refer to Tim as "Canetto" and says "be sure to tell Canetto I said Hi". The doctor has five daughters of his own that we talk about and always greets me with a kiss on the cheek and asks all about Avery. He's a big teddy bear kind of a guy. It's just a very friendly office.

Oh, and then he sticks his thumb up my butt.

This began at last year's appointment. I was shocked. I finally got up the courage to talk to the dilettantes about it (nope...they'd never had that happen) and one lucky guy friend (hey there, Scott -- we've got no boundaries, do we?) and cannot figure out why the doctor does this. I'm sure there's a medical reason, but don't know what it would be and cannot find information anywhere. And if you think I'm going to ASK HIM about this -- well, not in this lifetime.

With A Dis To The Ney

Oh, Disney -- you had a chance to try and prove yourself. You started out strong. The first day we got there, we swam in the pool and went to dinner at one of the top places in the resort compound (Artist's Point at the Wilderness Lodge -- Tim had buffalo steak, I had salmon and Stone Mill organic pale ale) and had fantastic service all around. It all went downhill from there. As a marketing person, I'm totally impressed by the marketing machine. As a human being, I'm totally conflicted by who they're marketing to and what they're marketing. And the service sucked after the first day (Shocking, right?) I was actually giving Tim examples to use in his workshop and also plan to write a nasty-gram to the management about the character dinner. (other than the fact that Avery LOVED it....it sucked.) Anyway...I am still resolute in my hatred in all things Disney (#4 below aside...sheesh...I am a mom, too.)

Highlights:

1) After Canetto took Avery to change her diaper moments before the Nemo show began...they came back into the auditorium and Avery announced loudly to me and about six surrounding rows, "Daddy went pee-pee"
2) The absolute thrill my child got out of meeting the Disney characters at the character dinner we went to last night. (Tim was in class, so it was just us girls.) Avery could not have been more excited. She confided in each character as though they went way back. To Goofy, she did a run-down of all the rides she went on that day -- and showed him her Goofy tattoo. She made us stay there through two cycles of character visits and kept saying to me, "just one more." She was such a big girl and hugged them and talked to them all by herself. Plus, she managed almost a smirk in one picture.
3) The Dumbo ride. Only because she will name this as her absolute favorite thing about going to Disney. (Although, we secretly know it was the Mickey Mouse ice cream.)
4) I freaking succumbed and bought her pink and purple Mickey Mouse Crocs. The holes on the top part are Mickey Mouse heads. I also bought her $20 worth of charms for these. What can I say? I was under the spell. (Hey...at least I can rationalize the fact that I bought her something she will USE.)
5) She was a gem and and angel and everything else good you can say about a kid when we traveled. Loved the plane and talked to the people we sat next to and explained how the plane took off and went "really, really high" and then came "back down really, really low". Then, when we were landing and it got a little bumpy, she asked if I would snuggle her. (My heart? Gone. Melted all over the place.) She also entertained with a lound rendition of "on top of spaghetti" as we were both taking off and landing.
6) Every morning, my kiddo would wake up and walk around the hotel room, surveying, with her hands on her hips. She'd say to me, "I need stuff" and would not be satisfied until I gave her the stuff we needed for the day that she packed into her stroller.
7) She was a total champ the two days we went to theme parks. Did a nine-hour day at Magic Kingdom (she power napped for 30 minutes during a ride) and then a seven-hour day at Animal Kingdom (again, only a 30 minute power nap during a show) and was perfect the rest of the day.
8) Avery calling Pluto "Fluto" -- could not correct her because she was too cute.
9) The people. We met some of the nicest and most interesting people. Kids are the great introducer, I swear. Even at the character dinner, I was chatting up people sitting all around us, which is WWWWAAAAYYYY out of character for me. I loved that aspect of it.
10) The parades.
11) Flying Jet Blue. What a great airline.
12) Getting stuck in the Haunted Mansion ride for five minutes. It scared the crap out of me. Suddenly, the ride just stopped and a robotic voice came on apologizing for the delay. This voice repeated the same message over and over for five minutes. All the while, I was sitting in pitch black all by myself. Eerie. (They let parents with small children do a switch-off for rides like this, so you don't have to stand in line twice. It's awesome. I went through, came out and Tim handed off the kid and got to go to the front of the line.)
13) Fast pass for the rides. The only way to do it.
14) Ramming the stroller into a women's achilles tendon who had cut in front of us in line. I'm so junior high. I don't regret it for a second.

Really, really fun family trip. Great way to do it as a lot of costs were covered by Tim's work and Avery's park admission was free.

P.S. Why don't YOU have a magical day, Disney wake-up call creepy robotic voice?

It's Kath-leen, not Kath-a-leen

Avery also says "brace-a-let" and "duck-a-ling." Upside: we won't have to pay to send her to gifted school.

Another Item For My List of Things I Want To Do At Some Point In My Life

Our hot IT director (I don't know why I always feel compelled to call her this...probably because it's true and such an anomaly) just came back from seeing two fashion shows in NYC for Fashion Week.

She told us about the famous people she saw, how cool the clothes were, and just how exciting the whole experience was. Also, she mentioned that the shows are about 15-20 minutes long -- perfect for someone with my attention span.

It's on the list.

Vanity Fair Party

The legendary Vanity Fair Oscar party has been CANCELLED this year. Wow.
Oh, well -- it was going to be the first year in a new location, anyway, since the West Hollywood Morton's was sold last year. Not the same party.

When we went out there for the party one year, I had specifically called the hotel ahead of time to find out if there was a blow dryer in the room so I wouldn't have to pack one. They assured me there was. The night of the party, we were running late and I had taken a shower and tried to use the hair dryer and it would not work. It was one of those wall-mounted deals where you always have to press different buttons to get it working. So, I tried pressing buttons and putting it back on the wall bracket and picking it up again...nothing was working. Indignantly, I called down to the front desk and demanded that they send someone up to check it out. I'm sure I mentioned at some point that I had specifically called the hotel ahead of time and had to be somewhere important -- I was definitely in bitch mode.

A few minutes later, the manager knocked at the door. He walked into the bathroom, looked at the dryer, looked back at me with utter disgust on his face, and turned around and plugged in the dryer and strode wordlessly out of our room.

Tim and I were convinced that at some point the management was going to come back and issue us some soft helments to wear for the duration of our stay.

I Want These Cheekbones

After Watching Me Do This A Million Times, She Realized She Could Do It, Too

I'm Just Hoping I Get Hit By A Truck Or Have A Massive Coronary Like My Grandfather. Lucky Bastard.

A line from one of Jimmy's e-mails today. He's a little down lately.
(Thank you, Captain Obvious.)

Planning Ahead

You'd think that after more than two years of this parenting gig, we might be a little better prepared for, I don't know...HAVING A KID.

We routinely go out to dinner, take road trips, and go places without anything to keep our active toddler occupied.

Until today. Today marks a vast change in parenting strategy. I went to the store and bought an assortment of toys and treats and stuff to keep the little Pants occupado on the airplane on Friday. More for our own sake than for the sake of the other passengers. (I figure that a flight to Orlando is bound to have its fair share of small, noisy children.)

This is Avery's third flight. The first was when she was two months old and we went to Key West and Miami. Then, last spring, we went to New Orleans. That was a memorable flight. I was dressed in a suit, because the minute we landed, I had to be at a television station to be interviewed for our Hurricane Katrina project. Tim was dressed a lot more casually. He was wearing jeans and taking care of Avery for most of the trip. (I kept referring to him as my "manny" -- which he was a lot more okay with than when I kept referring to him as my "baby daddy" early in Avery's life.) About mid-way through our flight, with Avery on his lap, Tim realized that Avery's diaper was leaking...and he had a huge wet spot on the front of his jeans. Of course, he did not want to get up and go change her and have the entire plane see his pants. So, in my suit, I took the kid back to the airplane bathroom in her soaking wet clothes and proceeded to change her diaper and her clothes -- while trying to prevent her from touching anything and working in that ridiculously tiny space.

These are the things that no one tells you about before you have a kid.

Happy 12th Anniversary Of Our First Date, Canetto

And how fitting that we spent part of it at the Patriot Center (go Mason!)

February 2, 1996 -- Groundhog Day:

There was a MAJOR snowstorm and we had met for happy hour at the (no longer in existence) Don Pablo's in Oakton. A woman came up and gave us tickets she had to the Alabama concert at the Patriot Center -- she was not going to go because of the weather and asked if we'd use them.

Armed with a six-pack of Rolling Rock and a disposable camera, we headed to the Patriot Center with our Alabama tickets and a sense of adventure.

The opening band missed the concert because they were stuck in the snow somewhere. So, we got to see Alabama perform about three songs and then the concert was over. From there, we went out in Old Town Fairfax (to T.T. Reynolds for some food, and then some bar that is no longer there to play pool). Then, we went back to my apartment in Centreville, where I made you sleep on the couch while I slept upstairs in my bedroom. (Not even sanitizing this in case mom reads it -- it's the truth. Selective morality even back then.) The next morning, we got up and went to breakfast where we made plans for Valentine's Day and your birthday (February 17th) and just sort of became a couple from the day of our first date. (Well, and after knowing each other for almost eight months in business school/counseling each other through our respective break-ups/going out with groups of friends several times.)

Thanks for 12 great years. (Well, more like 11 great years, 8 so-so months, and 4 god-awful months). Just kidding. They've all been great -- or at least manageable with a lot of booze.

You're the best -- our kid is the best -- and our lives are pretty damn good. I love you.

Take My Wife....Please!

A few years ago, Tim was a groomsman in his friend, Chip's, wedding.

Chip got all of the groomsmen really nice clock radios from Brookstone as a gift. It even had "nature noises" on it that you could play to soothe you to sleep. There was a babbling brook, birds singing and our personal favorite, chirpring crickets.

Tim and I would tell the worst jokes we could think of and then push the "chirping crickets" button and die laughing.

You'd think that would get old, huh?

Not a chance.

The Sad Trombone O' Bad News

Unfortunately, you'll just have to imagine the sound of the "sad trombone o' bad news" as I cannot upload an audio file on this damn blog.

It goes something like this....wah wah wah WWWWAAAAAHHHHH

And works well to punctuate any sort of disappointing or bad news.

Quite The Storyteller

With a lot of enthusiasm, Avery told me the following story this morning:

"And then the cow? it came into the house and it pushed the baby. And I said, 'naughty cow. you say you're sorry' and then I made him get out of the house. It was nighttime and the moon was out."

I Don't Want To Get For One Minute Of This

When looking at pictures of herself, Avery says, "She wanna talk" -- because we have shown her a few video clips of herself where she IS talking. So, she thinks that all pictures "wanna talk."

Also, she uses the word "forget" a lot, but transposes the syllables so that she says, "I'm going to work, but I get for my keys" or "I get for my purse."

I get for what life was like before we shared it with this little person who makes everything so much fun.

Extreme Close Up

From my company's work party this weekend. We had a great time. (You know -- me, my husband, and my lesbian lover.)

Literally Squealing With Delight

My co-workers, Adam and Carmen, gave us this TMX Elmo, which we gave Avery on Christmas morning this year. It was a hit.

Looks Like We Made It

Holy Shit! Amanda and I did our 10-mile run this morning at our training pace of 10:20/mile. And...we were able to maintain a conversation on all but the hilly parts of the course.

I still cannot process that we were running for almost an hour and forty-five minutes...what I CAN process is that we are rock stars!

A hot shower, some Ben Gay, a couple of Motrin and a nap later -- I'm actually feeling okay. (Although I may claim delirium when mocked about the Barry Manilow headline for this post.)

Age Of Aquarius

Fun weekend o' celebration for my birthday:

Saturday morning: A rip-roarin' good time to be had with a 10-mile training run (yes, that's TEN MILES). Holy crap.

Saturday evening: My company's 20th anniversary party. They are hiring a band called "Fever - The Wrath of Polyester". I visited the band's web site and found another band there -- called "Nik and the Nice Guys" (guess all work for the same booking company). Anyway, Tim's friend from high school plays in Nik and the Nice Guys up in New York City. I e-mailed him yesterday and he knew the "Fever" band well. Small, small cheesy band world.

Sunday afternoon: Pole and chair dancing class with the Vegas crew. This should feel fantastic after the 10-mile run and dancing the day before. Counting on this to be sufficiently ridiculous.

Sunday evening: Dinner out with my Canetto and my Pants.

Monday: Ben Gay and Geritol

How Not To Look Old

Thanks to my upcoming birthday (THREE SHOPPING DAYS LEFT!), I just ordered a book called "How Not To Look Old." This supposedly provides a bunch of fashion, makeup and hair tips that will fool people into thinking I'm barley legal. (Tip #1: get rhinestone-encrusted cell phone, pepper every conversation with the word "like," and hang out at the mall with my friends.)

I'm sure that when I receive this and have a chance to read it, there will be much to discuss about it on this blog. When I'm not shopping at "Forever 21", that is.

For The Love Of God...Don't Say "Hold The Anchovies" In Front Of Her

You know how cute it is when a little kid picks up a doll and pretends she's the mommy? I'm sure you do, but I'm just making conversation. My kid picks up a tiny piece of wooden pepperoni from a play pizza and pretends she's the mommy to that.

She will swaddle the pepperoni (that she cleverly calls "Baby Pepperoni"), in a blanket, sing to it and then tuck it into bed. Then, when she believes that Baby Pepperoni is not ready to sleep, she'll pick it back up and rock it gently.

It's not like we're living in the Depression and she has to pretend that sticks are toys. She has three perfectly acceptable dolls sitting against the wall in the playroom...ignored until she decides that they must be completely naked.

Demanda

I've been trying to compose a blog post about Amanda for a while, because it would be hilarious, as she is hilarious. (And I'm not just saying that because you make up 1/3 of my audience, Amanda.)

I think the best way to do it would be to simply pull lines from e-mails she has sent me through the years that I have saved because they make me laugh out loud...so I'm working on that now.

In the meantime, dear (3) readers, I leave you with this:

Last year, Amanda and I were running a race and came to a water stop. There was a young kid at the water stop holding two cups of water, so Amanda grabbed for one -- and the kid resisted. Amanda said, "Come on, I need some water!" and wondered why the kid volunteering at the water stop was not relinquishing the cups of water he was supposed to be giving out. The kid looked a little startled, but did give Amanda one of the cups of water. It was not for a couple of seconds that she and I realized the kid was not a volunteer for the race, but actually a participant, and was getting water for himself and his mom. We both started laughing so hard that we couldn't run for a couple of minutes. Amanda probably scared him away from running races for the rest of his life.

Career Woman

The audio that goes with this image: "Goodbye, I'm going to work now. Have a good Monday. See you later. I need my purse and my money."

Frankly, after a little more than two years of her freeloading, we're pretty jazzed that she's getting off her ass and getting a job.

And Wash Your Hands Afterward

I'm proofreading some database content that our company has developed for the FDA.

Moments ago, I came across the phrase "restrict super sack handling," which I immediately cut and pasted into an e-mail and sent to the person that developed the database with a "tee hee" underneath.

We're a very mature office.

And Right There, Behind The Juniper Bush? That's Chester

Should I find it hilarious or terrifying that one of the (ridiculously high-priced with a huge waiting list of potential students) pre-schools we're looking into for Avery has an area on the school property called the "Touching Garden"?

Gentlemen Prefer GILFs

When she was younger, my mom looked a lot like Marilyn Monroe. So much so that people would stop her in public places and tell her that she should sleep with Kennedys and avoid prescription medication. I kid, they only suggested that she make out with Kennedys and avoid overdosing on prescription medication. Actually, they'd tell her she looked like Marilyn. My family members would often find pictures of Marilyn that looked most like Krennie and give them to her as gifts. Because of this, my mom is a huge Marilyn Monroe fan. She buys herself a calendar every year featuring Norma Jean.

At Christmas time we were at Krennie's house, and she had her 2007 calendar up on the wall. The December picture featured a very Krennie-looking picture of Marilyn in a red sweater. Krennie also happened to be wearing a red sweater that day. As if I had prompted her, my little Pants pointed up at the picture and said, "Mommy -- pick me up so I can see Grandma".

Kids have no filter and say exactly what they think, so it's kind of an understatement to say that this made Krennie's day. As a matter of fact, she said that she was going to her lawyer that day to have her will changed so Avery would inheirit 100% of her estate.

Nothing Says Christ Is Risen Like Men Dressed As Women

A few years ago, my mom came up to visit for Easter weekend. And because we're heathens, we planned many spiritual, reverent activities with which to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. Namely, karaoke and drag brunch.

I was looking for a karaoke place that had the individual rooms because the shy person in me emerges when it comes to singing in front of a room full of people. I found just what we wanted at a strip mall in Annandale. The place was hilarious -- it was a storefront that was a Korean coffee shop in front. We went in and were led down a dark hallway that was lined with individual karaoke rooms. We went into one and it was awesome! It had it's own little 3'x3' underlit disco floor, a mirrored wall, a bench, a TV and a microphone.

A waitress came to take our order, my mom ordered a chardonnay, I ordered a Sam Adams and Tim ordered a bourbon and coke. The waitress came back with three Miller Lites in cans and a small styrofoam plate with about eight pretzels on it.

We sang many, many songs (we made Krennie sing "Blue Bayou" just so she'd have to try and hit that impossibly high note), but the highlight had to be Canetto's rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody." Of course I love this man, he's my husband. But I don't think I ever felt that love so deeply as I did when watching him sing, "Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?"

And The Benefits Are Good, Too

For my company's 20th anniversary, we're having a big bash at the end of the month. One of the company owners commissioned a videotape to chronicle the history of the company and get comments from all of the employees about what they like most about working for CSS. My friend, Terri, and I were filmed together...and this is what we had to say:

Terri: What if there isn’t anything I like about working at CSS?
Kathleen: C’mon Terri…there are things you like….Naked Tuesdays?
Terri: That's true. There's also the refreshing cocktail breaks every day at 3:30
Kathleen: ...and the liberal dress code policy (Kathleen points to Terri's short skirt)
Terri: Yeah, and the optional deliverables
Kathleen: Those are optional? Wow. I LOVE working at CSS.
Terri: (to the camera crew) Guys…can we wrap this up? It’s almost 3:30

Such An Attention Whore

Okay, so Shreve's band was supposed to play again on Saturday night.
This morning, I e-mailed and asked him how it went. He replied, "Didn't do it. I was here.
It made for a very scary Saturday morning trying to get the kids and old folks out."
http://www.nbc4.com/news/15035392/detail.html?subid=10101441
Yikes. He and his family are okay, thankfully.

I've Oft Wondered What It Really Is All About

Avery is the most rabid fan, ever, of the Hokey Pokey.
She figured where in the pre-programmed song rotation on her keyboard this song is, and immediately goes there whenever she turns the thing on. Also, her teachers at school say they have never seen a kid respond to that song the way she does. (She apparently will jump up out of her seat or run across the room and stop whatever she is doing and scream, "MY song" and start dancing whenever she hears them play it in the classroom.)
Best part? She calls it the "okey dokey."

Truth? I Was Just The Donor Egg

Such a happy little family.

Cockey during his visit to NoVa this Christmas. He brought me a gorgeous necklace that the woman he is dating designed (thanks again, Christina -- I love it!)

When I told Avery he'd be visiting she said, "I don't wanna see Jeff Cockey." However, by the end of the evening, she was a fan (much like all women under the age of 21).

The Great Defuser

Canetto has a way of making me laugh sometimes when I am furious with him.

Once, he was pulled over for speeding on the highway (after I had mentioned a couple of times that he might want to consider slowing down). As the cop was walking toward the car, Canetto sang in a falsetto sing-song-y voice, "Canetto is a lead foot." I burst into laughter. The cop is probably wondering why we were in such good spirits when he was about to issue such a hefty ticket.

Another time, we were having dinner with Tim's parents. Sometimes when we're with them, his table manners seem to regress to where they were when he was eight years old. This evening was a case in point. He was eating his salad...but pretty much picking up lettuce leaves and placing them on his fork, and then bringing the fork to his mouth. I was appalled, because he normally has very nice etiquette. I watched this for a few mouthfuls then said, agitatedly, "REALLY?" and he said, "I love my salad. So much that I must touch it." He's hilarious, that one.

Pho Tho Op

On Monday night, I figured I'd get some pho to make me feel better. The stuff seems to have some magic, medicinal qualities.
So, I got a recommendation to go to a place called "Pho Today" in Fairfax. It was on my way home, so I thought I'd try it.
I found it and went in, and immediately, a Vietnamese woman ran up to me and gave me a big hug. I was thinking, "Wow. What friendly service." Turns out, it was my friend, Tho, that I met when we worked together at the Government Center. Her cousin owns the restaurant and she was there having dinner with a big group of family members.
It's a small world. But I wouldn't want to paint it.

And It Was On-Time Delivery, Too

Tonight, Canetto and I just kinda collapsed at the house after work. As always, even after the most draining week, Avery has a way of making everything better, just by being Avery. She wanted to dance -- so we danced. Then we played letters, and then she put a purse over her shoulder and announced that "she was going to work to work on the computer."

We were both watching her, amused. Then Tim motioned for me to come and sit next to him on the steps where he was sitting, so we could marvel together at this perfect little creature. I sat down and put my arm around him. Avery walked over, hugged us both and said, "I love you guys."

Seriously. I don't remember putting in an order for the most wonderful child on the planet. Someone in shipping must have been in a good mood and gave us a free upgrade.

Hell Week

This week has been one of the more challenging weeks in recent memory.

Every single thing in every aspect of our lives is causing some sort of stress and requiring time and energy to deal with. And, because of this, we are not sleeping, eating or exercising with any regularity, which just compounds the issues.

Oh...and I was so sick on Tuesday that I could not get out of bed all day, and have been staving off more sickness ever since.

Good times.

The Unfairness Of It All

We've been talking up Disneyworld to Avery lately. Both to get her excited for the trip next month and also to have some sort of leverage to try and stop the increasingly frequent and annoying whining tantrums. (Ugh. Why? If I wasn't already a drinker...this would make me become one.)

Last night was one for the record books. I don't even remember what started it, but she went into full meltdown mode. Tim and I retreated to the family room and let her work through her meltdown upstairs. When she realized that she did not have our attention, she pulled out all stops -- this is what we heard:

"DO. NOT. GO. SEE. MICKEY. MOUSE. MOMMY. AND. DADDY."

Apparently, our punishment for causing her so much unhappiness was that she would not go on a Disney trip that was planned specifically for her.

Are we bad parents for stifling our laughs with the couch pillows?

Life In Plastic...It's Fantastic

Last night, I pulled out the Barbies I've saved for years. Somewhere along the line, I lost the country camper and also most of Barbie's clothes (probably during Barbie's "fantasy weekend in Vegas").

Anyway, my little Pants seemed to love the whole concept of Barbies. She read a book to one and put her to bed. The other she kept trying to put a hat and coat on as she felt Barbie was cold.

For the record, she has absolutely no use for "Disco Ken" and his orange satin pants and fringed suede-like vest, or my Miss America Barbie, who is a brunette. Little Miss Aryan Nation liked only the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Malibu Barbies.

I hope she's okay when she finds out she's Spanish.

Sicky Sickerson

Sheesh. I got sick Christmas Eve and then was hideously sick on Christmas Day and the day after. Was fortunate enough to get a reprieve for the Vegas trip, but now -- sick again.

I've tried Sudafed, NyQuil, a prescription from my doctor, cough drops, Vicks rub, Airborne, herbal tea, Motrin, and/or a combination of all of these things for the past few weeks. Nothing is working to make me feel better.

Last year (Avery's first year in day care), I spent the better part of the first quarter of the year with some kind of sickness. I'm really hoping there won't be a repeat this year.

From The Mouth Of My Babe

"Me and Daddy saw orangutans at the zoo."

"This is not comfortable."

"This is not tasty (and/or yummy)."

"I'm excited."

Today, I was using rubbing alcohol on a surface before hanging a hook on it, and Avery said, "are you getting a shot?" I had no idea what she was talking about, until I realized that the smell of the alcohol reminded her of getting a shot.

Diversionary Tactics

An actual conversation between Carrie and Kira from our weekend in Las Vegas:

Carrie: "Remember that time we were in Key West on Spring Break and you dumped an entire kahlua and cream on my head?"

Kira: "So, you dated a pedophile"

Swankalicious New Year's Eve

MIX nightclub at THEhotel in Vegas, baby!