She Works With A Moderate Degree Of Effort For The Money (So With A Moderate Degree Of Effort For It, Honey)

I have a confession to make. I love my job. There, I said it. I love my job.

I have always been a job-hopper, figuring life was too short to stay at a job that I didn't like or work with people I didn't like. (Fortunately, I work in an area with a ton of jobs...I'm well aware that not everyone has that luxury.)

But seriously...I think this is a dream job. The work is interesting and varied enough that I don't get bored. I work 8:30 to 4:30 and not a minute more. I like and respect (and have fun with) my boss and co-workers. I can work from home whenever I want to or need to. I get paid well. They have a matching program for the 401K. My commute is short. I wear jeans to work every day. It is a rare occasion when I stress about (or even think about) work in the evenings or on the weekend.

If I had thought up an "ideal job scenario" to have when going back to work after having Avery -- this would have been it.

>ducking now to avoid rotten virtual tomatoes that Canetto is lobbing -- he's not in quite the same work situation at this moment<

Disclaimer: If I win the lottery tomorrow, you can just ignore everything I wrote above.

Sesame-Palooza

We spent Father's Day weekend at Sesame Place -- just outside Philadelphia. Below are a few special memories:

1 - Avery wanted to help pack for Sesame Place. She busied herself in her room finding things to put in her suitcase. When I surveyed her progress? She had packed a stuffed piglet, a polaroid picture of her with the Geico lizard and half a bag of sun chips.

2 - At the park, she decided that she must have her face painted. I tried to steer her toward the Mike Tyson-esque "tribal tattoo", but she opted for "pretty princess" (apologies to Gloria Steinem)

3 - The sugar content in Elmo cupcakes and "long lollipops" combined with the excitement of Sesame Place keep a toddler awake for 14 hours straight.

4 - A couple of the Harlem Globetrotters were on-site making an appearance and taking pictures. Curly Neal was there! Seriously! I was probably more excited about that than I should have been.

5 - Levittown, PA, is an armpit. One of our hotel amenities was a crazy, drunken person running around near the hotel entrance. Shirtless, of course.

6 - At the end of the first day of Sesame-Palooza, we needed beer, STAT. Of course, one does not just pop into a convenience store in PA to buy beer. We had to drive to a special beer store and pay $10 per six pack (we needed two) for the goods.

7 - Seeing the utter joy on my kid's face as she splashed through all of the water features at the park? Worth the whole experience.

8 - Oh...and Avery is now smiling for pictures, but we may have a new problem:

Pharm Party

Canetto just got a prescription for Ambien. Sometimes his work stress prevents him from sleeping and the bourbon was getting expensive, so Ambien it is.

Earlier this evening he was reading the drug information sheet from the pharmacy out loud to me. It included the following information: "Some patients taking this medicine have performed certain activities while they were not fully awake. These have included sleep-driving, making and eating food, making phone calls, and having sex. Patients often do not remember these events after they happen."

So, it does have the same side effects as the bourbon. That's reassuring.

Of course, since he told me this, I've already walked into the room while buttoning my pants telling him that he's a stallion and it was the best sex I've ever had.

Prescription drugs are a laugh riot.

And Now A Downer...

...I just read that Tim Russert died. Why is it that certain deaths really knock you for a loop and make you so sad? Only 58. Didn't know him at all...although Canetto and I saw him on the ski slopes during one of our ski vacations...

So sorry for his family. Especially on Father's Day weekend.

Walking On Sunshine

I am officially stitch-less! Hooray!

My visit to Dr. Handsome began with the PA (that's PHYSICIAN assistant, not PRODUCTION assistant, my LA friends) removing my stitches. I did not feel a thing. And...he said to me, "you don't look like you just had surgery" because I am now walking normally.

Then, Dr. Handsome showed me the before-and-after shots of the inside of my knee. I love medical technology. They did find a little pre-arthritic stuff...but cleaned it up. He said that in 85% of all cases, people don't experience symptoms again, so I'm (of course) hoping for that. There's no way to tell who will and who won't, so he said the best things to do are (in his words), "stay thin like you are" >swoon< and "resume physical activity in 7-10 days."

I asked if I could wear high heels again and he said, "I actually prefer you in them." (Maybe I'm not remembering that exactly as he said it, it may have been more along the lines of, "yes, that's fine.")

I also asked if it was okay that I traipse all over Sesame Place tomorrow and he totally lit up and said, "you'll love that -- we went a couple of years ago." (I'm hoping he has kids, otherwise, that's kinda strange.)

So...my gimpiness has hopefully come to an end. I'm so happy.

Sesame And The City

I'm seeing the Sex and the City movie tonight with two girlfriends -- both of whom were sorority sisters of mine in college. In the past year, we've gotten together for a New Year's girls' trip to Vegas, a pole dancing class, and a topless tickle fight (the last one is a fabrication, but it just seemed to fit.) (Aside: what's the difference between a circus and a sorority? One is a cunning array of stunts....)

I never watched this show when it was on TV (I'm way too cheap to pay for HBO). Although, I used to hear from a lot of people that I reminded them of Samantha. I'm hoping that's more of a physical than behavioral similarity (as does my husband, I'm sure).

This is the only grown-up event of the weekend. Tomorrow morning, Canetto, Pants and I are headed to Sesame Place near Philadelphia. We're meeting our friends there for a Father's Day weekend o' fun. Thank God Avery's school is bringing in a moon bounce for the kids today or there is no way she would have gone to school willingly. She's been begging us to leave for Sesame Place for two days now.

In addition to this fabulous, all-expenses paid trip to Sesame, part of Canetto's Father's Day gift was the picture below published in our local paper for a father's day spread they did. (Can I get a collective, "awwwwwww" here? Thanks.)

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNO QRSTUVWXYZ

Me: Okay...so I just peed my pants. Well, not like that, exactly. I got knee surgery last week and have a whole lot of contorting to do in the bathroom stall as a result...and I end up hovering way above the toilet. Anyway, my aim was apparently wayyyy off and there are two large, round, wet areas on the back of one of me jeans legs. And they smell like pee (mainly because they are). And I have to go chat with my boss soon and I have no idea what to do. I sent an emergency message to a friend of mine who works across the hall to see if she has perfume or lotion that I can use to mask it. I also just spent about ten minutes back in the bathroom blotting. I don't want to walk around too much to air out because it is quite obvious. Why do I feel like my first grade self when I was wearing all purple for picture day and my mom got called to bring me dry tights (ahem) and the only color that was clean was red...so in my school picture I'm in an all-purple outfit with red tights.

Scott: Cigarette lighter? Once in a rare moon I've been hammered enough to catch the side of my fly while going to the bathroom...not a big deal unless you start peeing before you whip it completely out. Nothing waving a cigarette lighter under for a minute or two won't help. Urine evaporated pretty quick. Can't speak to the smell. Just tell the boss you have kidney disease. IMPORTANT. Keep the lighter moving if you don't want to ignite your drawers.

Me: Re-read this sentence that was part of my earlier
e-mail...apparently, I'm a pants-wetting pirate: "Anyway, my aim was apparently wayyyy off and there are two large, round, wet areas on the back of one of me jeans legs" Thanks for the suggestion...I'm afraid that would raise more eyebrows if I asked someone for their lighter. I did get scented lotion and slathered about a ton of it up and down my arms...that's pretty much all you can smell right now.

Scott: Or a piss-sodden leprechaun. "Oh looky tere, she wet her fook'n pants'

Me: Incidentally, today is the first day in about a gazillion years that I am going straight out from work instead of picking my kid up and going home first. Which means I will be wearing my pee-pee pants to the hairdresser where she will be working in close proximity to me for a couple of hours as she colors my hair. This is a great day!!!

Scott: go for broke and shit yerself.

The Woman Never Met A Generic She Didn't Like

When my mom visited last weekend, she brought Avery a few little toys and things that she got from the dollar store. Sure...it's fine at this age...but (hypothetically, of course) when you're 12 and the entire world has leather Docksiders brand deck shoes to wear with their preppy ensembles and you are forced to wear vinyl Decksiders brand deck shoes, you may never be able to move on from that (hypothetically, of course).

One of the gifts she brought was "magic dough" -- the Dollar Store's answer to PlayDoh.

Like all two-year-olds, Avery loves PlayDoh and dug right in...or tried to.

After trying for a few minutes to knead the magic dough, she whined to my mom, "Grandma...it doesn't move."

Stop And Smell The Neuroses

The doctor doing my surgery tomorrow is my age and pretty attractive, albeit it a bit handsy.

I'm so shallow that I'm more worried about him seeing me with no makeup and with elephantitis knees (oh, and also under anesthesia so not able to hold my stomach in) than I am about the actual surgery.

I guess admitting it is half the battle.

Happy Baby To You

This past Saturday, I hosted a baby shower for the first time for my friend and fellow dilettante, Amy. She is due August 13th with a boy. She's doing a jungle theme in the nursery, so I did a jungle theme with the party. (You know me -- I love a good theme.)

The party was fun -- especially the part where everyone but the dilettantes, Amy's college sorority sisters and my mom went home. We all stayed and drank and shared dilettante/college stories -- all of which involved drinking.

We even did a couple of dorky games at the baby shower -- one involved freezing small plastic babies into ice cubes and seeing who could thaw their baby first and shout, "my water broke!" Amy's college friends took all the plastic babies after the shower and planted them around her house for her to find after they left. Plastic babies are funny.

Sugar And Spice And Everything Nice

When I walked into Avery's classroom to pick her up last night, she did her usual running leap into my arms. I gave her a big hug and then put her down so we could gather her things.

(It was at this point I noticed that her Crocs were on the wrong feet. This is why kids always think their moms know everything, because I said to her, "Wow. Did you put your own Crocs on?" and she very proudly said, "Yes. I'm a big girl.")

Her teacher said to me, "Do you want to hear a cute story from today?" (note to teachers: always). She said that one of the little girls in Avery's class was having a tough day (teacherspeak for a kid being a holy terror -- I know -- Avery has had a couple of "tough days"). This little girl finally laid down on her cot at the end of the day to take a nap. While she was trying to calm down and sleep, Avery and her friend, Kennedy, both sat next to this little girl and rubbed her back to soothe her.

>sniff<

Very High Dollar (subtitle: Hey, A Girl's Gotta Do What A Girl's Gotta Do)

I left work for a while today to buy some things I need for a baby shower I'm hosting on Saturday. After I was finished with my errand I was stopped at a traffic light and almost nodded off -- don't know if it is the heat or the pregnancy (ha ha ha -- just seeing if you were paying attention) or the fact THAT I HAVE NOT HAD A DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP IN TWO AND A HALF YEARS, AVERY KATHARINE.

Anyway, I pulled into an office parking lot near where I work, cracked the windows, reclined the seat, turned the car off and apparently, promptly fell asleep.

About half an hour later, I was awakened by a very polite maintenance person who was standing back from the window saying, "ma'am? ma'am? I need to get into that gate you're parked near and I was afraid the noise would wake you up and you'd get scared." He went on to say that he noticed the baby car seat in the back and because he has young kids, he knows how important the power naps are and that it looked like I was sleeping pretty soundly.

His simple act of kindness really made my day. (Well, that and the power nap.)

A Very Steenberg Bathtime

When my sister and I were growing up, we loved it when our dad gave us baths. (Well, until high school, then it just got weird.)

I kid. He made bathtime so much fun (apologies to rubber ducky here). He gave each of our body parts special names that made us giggle uncontrollably:

legs were "legotomies"
arms were "armadillos"
chest was "a chest of drawers"
butt was "a dufty doodle"
feet were "tootsies"

Then, to dry off, he'd have us stand on a towel and lift us up and down like it was an elevator.

Needless to say, we've taught Avery the nonsensical names of her body parts since her very first bath. She loves it as much as I used to. I'm sure my dad would be thrilled with this legacy.

Memorial Day Weekend

What a fun weekend. Lots of different (and kid-friendly) activities and gorgeous weather!

Friday night we went to see "The Bee Movie" at Glyndon Park in Vienna. It was a very small crowd, and Avery loved the whole experience of laying on a blanket in a park watching a movie. She stayed awake for the entire thing and was pretty fascinated with the movie and at the end when "Here comes the Sun" played in the movie sound track she turned to me and said, "Hey -- that's what you sing". (I sing it to her a lot. So now that the song was in an animated movie, she thinks I'm a rock star.)

Saturday we had a play date at our house with Amanda and her daughter, Allison. The girls had a great time. Tim had a play date (bike riding) with his friend, Joe. Sadly, Joe's bike broke about a mile from the house, so Tim had to ride alone. That night, Tim and I set a tent up in our backyard (hee hee Tim pitched a tent) and told Avery we were going to camp out back. She loved the whole idea of it, and fell asleep in the tent after reading a couple of books by flashlight. Tim, however, was pushed off the air mattress by Avery and I in the middle of the night, so he wanted to go into the house around 2am, thus ending our camping adventure.

Sunday, Amanda came over with her friend, Tanti, and we headed to the Strawberry Festival in Delaplane. Beautiful day for a drive out through Virginia wine country. The festival itself was small and a little disappointing (very few strawberries, for instance, and we missed the strawberry-eating contest by one day). But it was a gorgeous day to sit in the sun with friends, so whatever. We cooked out when we got back and ate by the pool. Did I mention it was a gorgeous day? Dilettanti, especially, seemed to enjoy herself. (Video to come...)Leon couldn't make it, because he hates strawberries and gorgeous days.

Monday, we met the Beenhouwers at Viva Vienna! to watch Rocknoceros perform and go on a few rides. (Avery was more interested in the rides than the band. Every time they finished a song, she'd say, "All done?" hopefully -- knowing that the rides were the next thing we were going to do.) At the festival, she got a balloon from some vendor...so last night, I taught her how funny it is when mommy sucks helium and sings "Mickey Mouse".

Today? Back to the life-suckiness the work can sometimes be. Why isn't every work week four days long?

More Intellectual Discourse With Scotty

Scott: farts are funny!

Me: pharts are phunny, phag

Scott: heh heh heh. I'm off to load more crap into the truck. phuqr.

Me: better than crapping a load in the truck, I suppose. Or have you done that already? unitard.

Scott: I may have baked up a batch of "work'n man's" brownies

Me: with nuts?

And with that, Happy Memorial Day weekend, everyone!

Really?

Went to the ATM at BB&T at lunchtime to take out $20. Tried to put my card in. Didn't work. Tried again. Didn't work. Looked at diagram, verified card was in right position, tried again. Didn't work. Tried one more time. Didn't work.

Walked inside bank. Waited for person ahead of me to finish transaction. Said to teller, "did you know your ATM out front is not working?" and he said, "yes" >smirk<

So I politely suggested that he may want to put a sign on the ATM letting people know this so that they would not try several times to insert their card. He ignored this.

In my super funky funk today...this is just what I needed.

Revisionist History

This morning, Avery asked to bring irises from our yard to her teachers, Esmat and Jessica. So I screamed, "NO! you are a rotten little brat!" Just kidding, of course. I said it in a very civil tone.

Of course I said we could -- how cute is that? We cut them and wrapped them up and she insisted on carrying them into the school. (I told her to be careful with them, which somehow translated into her walking vvveeeerrryyy slowly.)

When we got to her classroom, she got very shy. Her teachers loved the gesture and thanked her and kissed her, and then she got all embarrassed and wanted to hug me. So, I pantsed her and ran out the door, laughing maniacally.

I'm Great In Emergencies, It's True!

When my mom, my dad and I were visiting my sister in Florida one Christmas, she took us on a tour of the University of Miami, where she was a law student.

We were walking into the courtroom where the moot court trials took place and as I walked into the room and near the jury box, I noticed an opened bag of potato chips sitting on the railing. Without missing a beat, my sister said, "sometimes, the jury eats potato chips" and we all laughed.

About two seconds later, I noticed some filthy, dirty feet sticking out from under a blanket -- also near the jury box. It was obviously a homeless person who had set up camp in the courtroom while all the students were on Christmas break. What I didn't know was if this person might be dangerous. Because, you see, I was so busy pushing my father (two hands on his chest -- pushing!) out of my way to run out of the courtroom with complete and utter disregard for the fates of my family members, that I wouldn't have known if he was a crazy, knife-wielding lunatic until after all of my family was sliced into bloody ribbons and I was hearing about it on the evening news.

(And to rub it in, not only did all of my family members survive, but re-told this story for years -- as a follow-on to the kitchen grease fire story of '77 -- you know, the one where after the fire was exinguished, they found me three blocks away. The second my mom had said, "fire" and everyone else pitched in to put it out -- I bolted out the front door and just kept going.)

The Sound Of Things Falling Apart

(Stealing the title of this post from the name of a mix tape that a guy I hooked up with during my years at JMU made for me. I thought he was the coolest -- especially because he cut out the letters from magazines and taped them onto the cassette.)

But I digress. The sound of things falling apart is what I am faced with every morning lately. In addition to my pre-op left knee, I'm fairly certain that the right knee will also require surgery in the not-too-distant future; I seem to have a repetitive stress injury in my elbow (probably from typing on the computer -- blogging helps (snarf)); and my jaw is so sore right now that I cannot chew food. (I know there's a joke in here somewhere about that never happening BEFORE I got married...but I'll skip it, thanks.)

And now I'm becoming one of those people that cannot stop talking about their freaking ailments...because the freaking ailments are taking over my life.

In addition to scheduling a trillion doctors' appointments, I have taken to drinking my dinner (and not just because I can't chew...if you know what I'm saying.)

What A Puss

Every night, when Avery and I come home, we are greeted at the door by our two cats, meowing and begging for their dinner.

It wasn't always this way. When we only had Brooke, we could leave her food bowl filled at all times. She's good at self-regulating food and would graze daintily all day.

When Seamus joined the family we quickly learned that he dined with all the grace of a Hoover vacuum. Often eating so much so fast that it would cause him to vomit up a pile of mostly unchewed food. Yes...eating so fast, that he did not even take the time to chew it up.

After an embarrassing trip to the vet for their annual checkups (and the vet not listening to my protestations of "but he's big-boned") we now have to feed the cats set portions twice a day. We also have to feed them separately, so Seamus does not eat Brooke's food. Further? We have to put golf balls in Seamus' bowl. This supposedly forces him to eat around those, which slows down his eating.

To add to that charming visual, let me give you this: Seamus has to be touching me at all times and will gnaw on anything plastic in the house -- easter eggs, bags, toys, credit cards....I refer to him as my "special needs" cat, but I could not love him more. He purrs the second you pat him and when I say "bubbles" he will come running (with his gigantic stomach swinging from side to side) so that he and Avery can pop bubbles as I blow them. He is always available to take a nap with me, and is just the sweetest cat in the world.

Last night, when we walked in, we were greeted by only one cat -- Brooke. Odd, because of the two, Seamus is usually the more eager for his dinner.

I went downstairs and found him on the rug in the bathroom -- next to a tiny baby field mouse. The mouse was completely unharmed and seemed okay -- except for his ridiculously fast heartbeat.

Because I am so good in emergencies, I shooed Seamus out of the bathroom, closed the door, and waited for Tim to get home. While we waited, my two-year-old said to me, "Daddy is much better at this stuff."

Tim came home and put the mouse in a box and he and Avery walked outside and let the mouse go.

Yes -- I know that the mouse will come back. I also know that we probably need an exterminator and where there's one baby mouse, there are likely other mice. However, in every scenario the cute little mice do not live happily ever after, so at this point, I am unwilling to discuss that.

The part that I love? In a house with two (hungry) cats -- one was completely ambivalent and one befriended the mouse.

Housecleaning

Just this morning, I tossed out the fertility monitor.
If we ever get crazy enough to have a kid again...it will be adopted.

True, Dat

My wizened little 70 year old father in law just bought a Hummer- and
not the kind you buy for 50 bucks on Malcom X Ave.

Nothing screams "run" like a 70 year old asian guy in an 8
thousand pound truck.

(thanks for the visual, Lovey Sunshine)

All You Need Is Love (And Cocktails)

From the wedding we went to on Saturday. It was scheduled to take place in Mason District Park and hallelujah! Saturday was the one nice day we've had in weeks. Setting was gorgeous and the coolest part? The groom's sister sang all of the wedding music and played keyboard and the bride's brother played guitar. (She sang songs by Norah Jones, Ben Folds Five, Van Morrison and then All you Need is Love by the Beatles for the recessional). That, with the outdoor setting made for a very cool and very emotional ceremony. (And the fact that she had a fantastic voice -- you always wonder if that's a good idea when someone says their sister is singing in their wedding.)

All I know is that my dress was perfect for the dilettante dip and there was nary a dilettante in sight. >sigh<.

Next Year, They're Hiring Angry Men

Tonight I get to meet Buzz Aldrin.

My friend, Hillary, works for a PR firm that hosts very cool anniversary parties every year (they're pretty small, intimate affairs held at an Irish pub). Last year, for their 10th, they hired Bo Derek (she starred in "10" -- get it?) to come and mingle. This year, for their 11th, they've hired Buzz Aldrin (he piloted Apollo 11-- get it?). Even though he's not nearly as accomplished as Bo Derek, I'm pretty thrilled to meet him.

Doing a little research on him today, I found out his mother's maiden name was "Moon" -- that's fantastic.

Hopefully, a picture of Buzz and I will be in this post tomorrow.

What's A Nice Girl Like Me Doing With A Joint Like This?

Those who know me know that I'm not one to gloat, but let me just say this: my patellar retinaculum is intact. Moreover, my lateral meniscus is normal and my ACL and PCL are intact. (Take THAT, girls who were mean to me in junior high!)

In case you're wondering, I got the results of my MRI and went over them with my doctor this morning. My doctor kept tossing in words like, "effusion" and "myositis" -- which meant I kept tossing in words like, "huh" and "what?"

Bottom line: I need arthroscopic surgery on my left knee. Good times. Because, really, isn't surgery a treat? Especially when it doesn't result in better boobs or fewer wrinkles?

Poop.

(My elephantitis hit an all-time low yesterday -- so freakishly gross that I showed it to a guy I work with. Even through my jeans he could see how swollen and disgusting my knee was. He was very sympathetic, though -- and referred to me as "thunder knees" for the rest of the day.)

Reel Happy

We've been on a big kick of renting movies lately to watch while Avery naps on the weekend. We're seeing tons of great movies that the rest of the world saw ages ago:
"Waitress", "Into the Wild", "Atonement", "Michael Clayton"...

I even suggested that Tim rent "Sunset Boulevard" -- we're watching that later tonight.

Pleasantly surprised by all of the above mentioned movies -- had lost faith there for a while....Superbad.

Laser? I Just Met Her.

Canetto got his lasik today!

We got there around 8:45 and we left at around 9:30 -- amazing! He got about halfway through the big breakfast I made him (he was instructed to "eat light" this morning and he has a metabolism that doesn't do "eating light" -- especially after not eating all night, so he could not wait to dig in after the surgery) before the Valium started wearing off and he started getting uncomfortable. Fortunately, the nice people at TLC had given him Tylenol PM, so as soon as it started hurting, he fell asleep. (Not IN his breakfast, but almost. Too bad -- I could have added that to the photo album I've started that also includes photos him wearing goggles and being all drugged out. Lasik is funny.)

I've heard from everyone I know who has had this done that he is not even going to believe how good his eyesight will be. How exciting for him. How frightening for me --I tend to look better in "blurry."

Ooooh, Baby

One of our vendors at work just sent a plea to some of my co-workers and me to sign a petition he has drafted for Marriott to get them to "stop peddling porn" -- (offering pay-per-view movies in their hotel rooms). He's part of some sort of "focus on the family" organization or something that is solving the world's ills one hotel room pay-per-view movie at a time.

Will all that is going on in the world, THIS is what he chooses fight?

I just offered my co-worker $20 to sign the petition as "Jenna Jameson"

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.