Hats off

You guys! I'm knitting a hat! My first one ever!

The thing is, I've been knitting scarves for about two years now, and to be honest, I'm getting a little tired of them. They're pretty much falling out of my coat closet whenever I open it. I've made scarves for everyone I can think of who might want one (except you, Brian, and once I finish this hat, I'm totally gonna start that).

Not only that, but my Grammie Bly, who used to knit these amazing things, (somehow, she even made three gorgeous, teensy little Barbie wedding dresses! How did she DO that? Seriously) recently gave me all her old knitting needles. There must be about 50 of the things, all wrapped up in a needle holder. How could I let those fun little sticks go to waste? So I found a project I thought I might possibly be able to do.

And, even though it's close to being done. and it looks really good, I'm pretty sure I've messed it up royally. Because, um, apparently you're supposed to use the size yarn that the book tells you to use, and since I don't like to read directions (my one guy-ish trait), I didn't exactly notice that part. So while I think my hat will be prefectly knit, I'm guessing that it's not going to actually fit me. Or Emilee. Or Gavin.

So here's what I'm thinking: I'm gonna have to get me a baby somewhere. Because I am SO not going to let me first hat just sit around doing nothing. No sirrrrrreee. That hat is being put to good use. And I think (after Brian's scarf, of course) I'm going to make a sweater. Maybe. Or maybe not. It depends on whether or not I feel like reading directions.

Anyway. If you just read this entire blog about knitting, and you don't care one little bit about needles and yarn, you are a really good sport. And I love you.

The end.

Open letter

Dear Members of the Male Gender,

Please, please, please stop being so darn confusing.

Thanks a bunch,
Me (and lots of other girls, I'm sure)

Great, just great.

On the way into work this morning, I was listening to one of the local classic rock stations (which, for the record, I tune into for the talk, not the music), and the jockeys made the assertation that 70-80% of people don't know any of their great-grandparents' first or last names.

This strikes me as a little bit sad. I actually grew up knowing two of my great-grandparents (my mom's maternal grandparents) fairly well. And I spent some time with both of my dad's grandmothers.

Mom's grandparents- Florris and Hagel Robinson Johnston. Nannie passed away in 1998, Grampa in 2004 (I think). Before she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Nannie used to serve grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade applesauce whenever we came for a visit. Grampa went by "Rob" because, well, if YOUR name was Hagel, wouldn't you pick a different nickname too?

Dad's grandmothers- Rhoda Potter and Emily Siegel. I don't actually remember a lot about these two (Gram Siegel passed away when I was 8, Gram Potter when I was 12 or so) but Gram Potter gave me my first Annalee doll (an old granny mouse making a quilt).

I guess I hadn't realized how rare it is to have known one's great-grandparents... and the cool thing is that my kids are getting to know theirs too. (They have 5 great-grandmothers and 2 great-grandfathers).

See? I knew there was a good argument for having kids young. ;o)

NaBloPoM-over

Phew.

Not that I actually managed to write every single day, but I ALMOST did. Which is good enough for me. =P

And now I'm probably going to blog at Myspace, which I'm probably waaaaaay too old for, but where people actually care that I've posted a blog. ;o)

A bientot!

Rockage

Things I did at work today:

-Read stories to a group of first graders.
-Read stories to a group of second graders.
-Decorated the library for Christmas
-Not a whole lot else.

See why my job totally rocks?

Speak 'n Spell

I swear I am not a very judgemental person. However, there are a few things you could say to me that would automatically cause me to place your IQ at about 20 points lower than it probably actually is. And here they are:

1. Pronouncing "nuclear" like nuke-you-lar. Come on now.
2. "Anyways." It's "anyWAY." Without the "s."
3. Saying "li-barry," instead of "library." This one especially frosts my cookies, for some reason.
4. "Expresso," rather than "espresso." Brian is guilty of this one, and I totally want to pinch him every time he does it. (Then again, if I pinched Brian every time he misspelled or pronounced a word wrong, he'd be covered in bruises).

I know, I know... I'm a picky, horrible person, and besides that, it's not like MY grammar and spelling are always perfect.

Still... I'm allowed to have my pet peeves, right? Right.

Romper room

Is it a bad thing that people are driving me cah-razy today?

Might be because I didn't get enough sleep last night... might be because people just have this tendency to be really annoying sometimes. Either way, not a good day to have a job where I am constantly interacting with the public.

Last night's escape was in the form of an invite to Shaws Guy to come over and cuddle. Rainy nights are so not my cup of tea, so it was nice to have someone share it with me. AND he brought his dogs, who romped around, gobbled up my cat's food in 1.2 bites, and did adorable tricks like chasing their tails and shaking our hands. I totally need to have a dog someday.

So how am I going to escape tonight? Hmmm. Finale episode of "Beauty and the Geek"... a little World of Warcraft... and maybe, just maybe a good old-fashioned early bedtime. Ahhhhhh.

O Christmas tree, O Christamas tree...

Yes, yes, I missed another day. I'm actually really glad this NaBloPoMo business is almost over with. Sheesh.

Anyway, the reason I missed yet another day of blogging was this: I was way too busy having a real life. =P

-Took the kids to church in the morning, so they could spend a little more time with my parents before they (my parents, not my children) headed back to Florida.
-Did two loads of laundry, while simultaneously serving lunch and visiting a little more with the parentals.
-Went to a Christmas tree farm to pick out our Christmas tree. Shaws Guy came too, and a loooovely time was had by all.
-SG took us out for dinner at a local diner. I love the diner atmosphere, and I'm so glad we still have one here. The little man had pancakes. For dinner! Needless to say, he was thrilled. The princess ate probably 6 bites of her dinner. She was apparently much too busy playing tic-tac-toe and hangman (which she kept calling "hangerman") with SG to be bothered with eating.
-SG, Brian, Brian's son, my kids and I decorated the Christmas tree/drank hot chocolate and egg nog, and just generally had a good time.
-Slept like the dead. All of us.

And now I'm back. And tired. But extremely happy.

Tree-rific

I am so very ready for a Christmas tree to take over my living room. Yes, I know it's, like, two days after Thanksgiving, and that if I get one now, it will probably be dead as a doornail by Christmas morning, but I don't actually care about that. I just want that sweet balsam smell in my house. Now.

So I think Brian and I (and Shaws Guy, if I can convince him that's something he needs to do) might go find a tree farm tomorrow, and chop one down. Ew, that sounds a little bit cruel, doesn't it? Sawing down a poor, innocent tree just so I can have a nice smell in my living room for a few weeks? Hmmm... might have to think this one over a little more... The thing is, that's what they're being grown specifically FOR, right? And what could be more holiday-ish than taking the kids to pick out their very own Christmas tree?

Ok, I've talked myself back into it.

Hooray for the holidays!

P.S. Shaws Guy's mom cooked pot roast for dinner last night. It was absolutely delicious and I did NOT fall asleep in it. Also, his family was wonderful. Double hooray!

Holy Day-After-Thanksgiving-Sales, Batman!

I am pooped.

In bed at 1:30 am (after a midnight snack of leftover Thanksgiving fare... oh so yummy), and up at 6 am to hit the Black Friday sales with my parents and sisters, I'm currently looking at my computer clock, which SAYS 3:26 pm, but which I KNOW can't be right, because it really feels more like, oh midnight or something riduculously late like that. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I HAVE to, because I am about to go meet Shaws Guy's parents for the first time, and I'd really like to not fall asleep in whatever his mother is cooking for dinner. That would be so not attractive, and I have a feeling it wouldn't make for the best first impression.

The good news is that as a product of today's little shopping spree, come Christmas morning I will be the favorite person of my children, as I managed to score a wicked cool scooter for each of them. Go, me!

Now, forgive me for the sad length of this post, but I feel the need to conch out for half an hour or so before I have to leave.

*Snore*

The fam

I love my family.

They're goofy and they're weird and they fart all the freaking time. (Seriously, you would think I served up beans and cabbage for Thanksgiving dinner, instead of turkey. Sheesh).

But they make me laugh harder than I laugh with just about anyone else. And they prove again and again that they are always THERE. You know, not just there. THERE.

And guess what else? They did pretty much all the cooking. Dad did make me stick my arm into the turkey, which, let me tell you, was no fun at all. But other than that, they did almost everything. Hey... maybe hosting Thanksgiving at your house means you're off the hook for the whole cooking thing, because people feel a little bit guilty. Like they should be helping a ton, since dinner's not happening at their house. Or something. Either way, it was awesome.

And Dad painted the Princess's toenails. I have the coolest dad ever. No joke.

So now I think I should take a shower and get ready for bed, because my family is being totally crazy and taking part in Black Friday tomorrow. And we're starting EARLY. Woot.

Feeling saucy

Yesterday when I was dropping the little man off at daycare, I noticed a poster on the wall, listing the favorite Thanksgiving foods of each kid in the pre-school class. One said turkey (natch), another liked the stuffing. MY son's favorite thing? Bread and butter. Yeah, he's easy to please. However, I didn't feel toooooo bad when I noticed that one of his classmates had chosen apple juice. Little girl, it's your dream Thanksgiving every MORNING at my house!

Anyway, it made me think about what my answer would have been to the same question, and you know what? It's a toughie. I love turkey. I love stuffing. I love brown and serve rolls. I love mashed potatoes that are absolutely DROWNING in butter. However, I might just have to go with the thing I always save for last. Cranberry sauce. Not the homemade kind with the berries still in it. Bleckity blech. No, I'm talking store-bought jellied cranberry sauce. Oh, so yummy.

The thing is, does anyone ever buy this stuff when they're not going to eat it with turkey and stuffing? Do they buy it to eat with, say, mac and cheesse? Or hamburgers? I'm thinking not. Maybe... juuuuust maybe, I could start a new trend.

Bring on the cranberry sauce. Mmmmm.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!!

Green with envy, right?

Last night, Shaws Guy came over, and immediately headed straight upstairs to the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the fan.

"Huh," I thought. "Guess he's comfortable pooping at my apartment already. That's cool... I suppose." THEN, he turned on the shower. And I thought, "Oops, now he's getting all clean. Kind of weird, since he just got here and probably could have done that at HIS house, but whatever." I was talking to a friend about a semi-serious issue on the phone, and wasn't paying THAT much attention to what Shaws Guy was doing. A couple of minutes later, he came back downstairs and gave me a hug. I made him a peanut butter and fluff sandwich, vented about my day, and we looked some stuff up on the computer. (Exciting, I know). =P

Anyway, as we were about to head upstairs again, I noticed this big wrench-y looking thing sitting on the bottom stair. I looked at Shaws Guy with what I'm guessing must have been a pretty confused expression, and asked, "Why did you bring that in? Did you want to show it to me or something?" He shrugged, and said it must have been on top of his books and that he had brought it in without even noticing. This made sense to me, because Shaws Guy is a contractor, and those types are probably always carrying around random tools without even realizing what they're doing.

But something about it still didn't seem quite right. I mean, this wrench was HUGE. It wasn't like one of those teensy things you'll find in MY tool box (yes, I have a toolbox. My dad put it together for me one Christmas, and it has the essentials... hammer, nails, screwdrivers, wrench). No, it was fairly ginormous. How do you carry something THAT big into the apartment of the girl you're dating without noticing? It just doesn't seem possible. So I kept looking at him like, "Ok, mister... you might want to start explaining why you brought this big hefty wrench into my apartment at 8:30 pm..." and finally he gave in. Looking at me with a combination of embarassment, nervousness and a need for me to be ok with this, he said, "Your old shower head didn't work very well... so I replaced it. Is that ok? If not, I'll take it down... I saved your old one."

That's right, people. This guy I have only JUST started spending time with, got me a new shower head (with all kinds of cool settings, mind you) and INSTALLED it. Be still, my heart. And if it sounds like I'm joking, I'm totally not. That kind of thing will win over the biggest love skeptic.

He might just be a keeper. Stay tuned. =P

*Hugs*

Omigosh, I am the worst NaBloPoMo'er EVER. I swear I had the best intentions in mind when I signed up for this thing, but darn it, life keeps getting in the way. Sheesh. Anyway, yes, I admit that I SO don't rock at the bloggage. Moving on.

This morning, I got 16 hugs. From 16 different children. I l-o-v-e my job. I mean honestly, what could be better than reading a few stories to a group of kids, and in return getting a big hug from every single one of them. And these are kids in serious need of hugs. Most of them come from families who don't do the whole reading-aloud-at-bedtime (or any other time of the day, for that matter) thing. These little guys are seriously lacking in the attention department, and even though I'm not a social worker of any kind, and know nothing about these things, I DO have lots of love and attention to give. And really, I think that's all these kiddos need. I want to take them all home with me. *sad sigh*

In other news, yesterday Shaws' Guy and I walked three miles with his two black labs. It was freeeeeeezing out, but at one point, as we were walking past a swamp, I asked if we could stop because the sun was shining right on my face and I am in love with the sun. So we did stop, and even though our view was of an icky bog, it was an almost magical moment. *happy sigh*

Three days 'til Turkey Day!

Bookie

Wanna hear something weird? My favorite books lately have all featured teenaged male protagonists. What's up with that, huh?

At the moment, I'm reading "Slam" by Nick Hornby, and before that, I read "Spanking Shakespeare" by Jake Wizener. And my favorite book ever? "The Giver," by Lois Lowry.

Aaaaaanyway. Daisy and I just went shopping for Thanksgiving stuff and omigosh, the grocery store was PACKED. I guess everyone else had the same cram-shopping idea that we did. Yay. I think I might need a nap.

Par-tay!

We had a little work party today. And wa-hoo! Because, seriously, who isn't a fan of having a party in a place where you should normally getting down to the business of earning a paycheck?

So this party was for a co-worker of mine, who also happens to be one of my best friends. It's weird the people you meet as an adult. People you never would have met in high school because the age difference was too great, but all the same, people with whom you just totally connect. This particular co-worker of mine is seven years younger than I am, but highly mature, and just as eager to spend hours gossipping about boys as I am.

Anyway, she just got her GED. She was homeschooled, and therefore never received a diploma, so she needed to take the GED in order for her years and years of schooling to actually count for something. Which is kind of ridiculous, when you really think about it. I mean, even if I AM totally biased, this friend of mine is one of the smartest people I know. So to have to obtain a GED to validate her education kind of seems pointless, but it was necessary. Sheesh.

Wow, I've just babbled away for 3 whole paragraphs. Sorry about that. The whole point of this post?

CONGRATULATIONS, N! YOU SO TOTALLY ROCK!

Ahem.

Happy weekend.

P.S. It flurried here today! With, like, real live teensy snow flakes and everything! Major excitement!! =P

Clap on, clap off.

Ok, ok, I admit it: I missed blogging yesterday. And I'm not going to back-date an entry so you all THINK I blogged yesterday, because that would be dishonest, and going against the rules of the whole NaBloPoMo thing. So. I guess you're just going to have to believe me when I say it was for a very good reason.

Plus, if THIS guy http://onebadperson.blogspot.com/ (whose blog I love love love, by the way, even though it's completely raunchy) can do it, then so can I.

And while you take a minute to think about whether or not you're going to forgive me, I'm going to type out a list of some of my turn-offs and turn-ons. Mostly because I think it will be fun. So here goes...


Turn-offs
-Bad personal hygeine (of the bodily AND dental variety)
-Nose-picking
-Bad teeth
-Nascar hats (or really, ANY Nascar paraphanalia)
-Loud eating
-Farting on a first date (after the first date, though, it's totally ok)
-Horrible spellers
-Cockiness (I could probably put up with just about anything else. This, however, is SO not allowed)
-Dudes who just want to play computer/video games all the time
-Fear of commitment


Turn-ons
-A great smile
-The willingness to go out and DO things sometimes
-Ambition
-Men who smell really good without having to douse themselves in cologne (probably to cover up the fact that they're not showering on a daily basis)
-When a guy is awesome with my kids
-Passing the sister test (they have to like him. It's vital.)
-The ability to cook ;o) Mostly because I really need someone who's willing to do that for me. Otherwise, I'm going to be malnourished for the rest of my life


Anyway, I think I'm going to start being a liiiiiiittle more picky about these things, because otherwise I'm going to end up dating losers for the rest of my life.

Toes, toes, toes.

From one of the 4 year-old girls in the little man's pre-school class: "I like your shoes!"

It's November 13th, and I'm still wearing sandals. Honestly, I don't know why, but for some odd reason, even though I live in a state that boasts temperatures below 50 degrees for, oh, 8 months of the year, I insist on wearing sandals until Thanksgiving (at the very least). And then as soon as mid-March rolls around, they come back out in all their sandal-y glory. I loooove the things. Maybe because they make it possible for me to pretend that summer's still here.

Ya know... I could just move to a warmer state...

But really, what would be the fun in that?

Tables are for lounging

So. Because I don't think I've officially introduced her yet... THIS is Ayla, our beautiful (and totally illegal) kitty.

She's on the kitchen table because, well, she's a cat, and cats do pretty much whatever the heck they want to do. She also meows at me every morning until I turn on the bathroom faucet so she can drink from it. And you know what? I totally do it. Every. Single. Morning. Yes, cats are independent and aloft, but I think that's part of the reason I love them so much. Maybe I envy that attitude juuuuuust a little.

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Last night, the princess and I had the following conversation as we were driving home from my sister's house.

PrincessPants: Mommy, do you ever wish you had a boy?

Me: What?

PP: You know, like Auntie Shea is married to Uncle Paul, and Auntie Jenni is married to Uncle Tim. Do you ever wish you had a boy like they do?

That child is just way too perceptive sometimes, I'm telling you.

Brrrrr

The next time I decide it might be a good idea to take the kids to the park at what has always been their rest time, on a freeeeeezing cold day, someone please smack some sense into me, ok?

We managed to have a pretty good time, despite the temperature, and despite the fact that the kiddos and their friend weren't exactly getting along as well as they normally do.

And while I realize that this doesn't exactly pass for a coherent blog, my fingers and my brain are still thawing out, so forgive me.

P.S. I totally made chicken drumsticks for dinner last night (ALL BY MYSELF). =) Awesomeness.

Centauromachia

Yep, you guessed it. THAT was the word we messed up on. The word that lost the spelling bee for us. (Although, for the record, I had it spelled correctly on my little piece of paper, but told my boss to go with our other teammate's word because when it comes to spelling, I have low self-esteem, and assumed I couldn't possibly have it right.)

Anyway, I don't even care that we lost, because we actually made it farther than we've ever managed to make it in the bee (three whole rounds!). And even if it was by default, because we were the last team in the line-up, we were the first runners up! Yay, us!

I've been feeling like a star all day long. Even if Krutchy DID feel the need to send me this horribly sarcastic text message:

"Do they make spelling bee cards of you heroes?"

I'm pretty sure he's just jealous. =P


In completely unrelated news, the ex and I met with Princess-pants' teacher today for a conference, and we got to hear all kinds of glowing comments, which totally made my day. I love hearing what a cool person my child is. (Not that I didn't already know). ;o)

Happy loooooooong weekend!

S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G B-E-E

Tonight, I'm taking part in a spelling bee.

No, I'm not 12 years old. I'm actually three years more than double that. (Look! She can spell AND do math! Amazing!) The spelling bee is actually an annual fund-raiser for our local scholarship foundation. It's a team (each one is made up of three people) event, and each team has a spokesperson. Luckily (because more than almost anything else, I hate speaking in front of a large group of people), I have never had to be that person.

-----Taking a break to apologize-----

In case you haven't noticed, I use waaaaay too liberal with my parentheses. I promise, I'm making a conscious effort to work on that. ;o)

-----Ok, apology break officially over-----

Anyway, back to the spelling bee. I have to tell you guys that I am a pretty darn good speller. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I have actually WON three spelling bees. One in first grade (for which I was awarded a cool little trophy), one in 6th grade (which actually got me to the regional spelling bee... yikes!), and one in 11th grade (which actually made me the most proud because it was a winter carnival event, and I beat out 12th graders! Go me!)

However, despite the fact that I've managed to win a couple of these things, when it comes to really hard words, I'm really not that great a speller. Therefore, we never win. In fact, we usually lose in horrible ways (ie. One year, we went out in the very first "easy word" round. Another year, my teammate had the word written correctly on his little piece of paper, but misread his OWN HANDWRITING, and out we went). Unfortunately, we are the library team, so we're always expected to do much better than we end up doing. We are the spelling bee disappointments.

This year, though... we have hope. We have drive. And we have awesome matching t-shirts. Hehe... wish us luck. =)

Here's to plucking

I have been feeling a little bit "eh" today. And for the record, "eh" = "kinda icky-ish." Yes, people, I know you're astounded by my librarian-y vocabulary. Sorry about that.

Anyway. I don't know if it's the fact that winter's about to descend upon us or what, but suddenly little things are starting to bother me more than they should. Case in point: my ex-husband just told me that he and his new wife put an offer in on a house. And am I happy for them? Heck no. I mean, of course I acted delighted, but really, in my head I was thinking, "How come this joker gets a spouse and a house (hey, that rhymes), and I'm a single mom living the apartment life. *Sigh*

Ok, moving on (and out of my self-pity)...

This morning, the little man was sitting at the table eating his breakfast, when out of the blue, he looked at his sister and said, "It would be even more romantic if you chewed with your mouth closed." I doubt that my 4 year-old son even knows what the word "romantic" means, and in fact, he apparently stole the line from Hannah Montana, but omigosh, I burst out laughing. <3 that boy.

Rain, rain, go away.

This morning in the car, Princess-pants informed me, "I put all my might into it... Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of might."

I totally love my 6 year-old.

She also told me that she would like a baby Michaela doll for Christmas, and that Michaela (which I'm probably spelling completely wrong) says over 80 different things. I've never even heard of this toy, but I already know that it is destined to annoy the crap out of me. Woot.

So it's raining. And cold. And dreary. And where'd I'd REALLY like to be right now is at home, in my pj's, watching the stack of movies piled up next to my tv that I NEVER have the time to watch when I'm actually at home. Or I could read one of the three books I've got going at the moment. I am SO not a fan of rain. Especially in November.

But I'm still wearing sandals.

Yikes

Be afraid, people. Be very, very afraid.

For I am apparently having Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment this year. And my family will be coming. And actually eating food that *I* cook.

Oh, crap.

Newsflash: I cannot cook. Here is a fairly accurate weekly menu of dinners served chez Gull:

Monday: Microwaved corn dogs (frozen, from a box). Corn (which also started out frozen). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Tuesday: Kraft macaroni and cheese. (With hot dogs if I'm feeling extra energetic). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Wednesday: Frozen pizza (Yay! A dinner with all four food groups!). Pepsi for me, milk for the kids.
Thursday: Ramen noodles. (The kids are with their dad Thursday nights, so I just cook up whatever doesn't take very long). Pepsi.

I think I can stop there... because you see where I'm going with this, don't you? I can't even make normal dinner items, like chicken or hamburgers. Meat that's not pre-cooked scares me a little bit because what if I don't cook it all the way though and someone gets salmonella and dies? Do you see my problem here? Cooking is DANGEROUS! Possibly even DEADLY!

*Sigh*

I can tell you one thing, though. The music? Will be FABULOUS.

You can tell you're getting older when...

... a sex toy party ends with half of the guests crowded around a computer, watching one person play World of Warcraft. And even worse, they've all got characters and are actually dying to leave the party and go home to play.

*Giggle*

Anyway, the party was fun. On the whole, I'm not great in social situations where I don't know many people, so I always feel a little awkward at first. But everyone there was outgoing and completely cool, and I ended up being dragged into the excitement. AND I bought something.

But I'm not telling you what.

Neh neh neh boo boo. =P

Procratinatory

It's 1:00 in the afternoon, and I've just eaten a bowl of corn pops (my first meal of the day). I should be cleaning my apartment, but since I don't actually feel like doing that just yet, I figured it would be a good time to blog.

So. I'm going to a sex toy party tonight. Now, since unless you're the one person I know who reads this blog, you probably don't know much about me. Therefore, I will let you in on a little secret: I am SO not a sex-toy-party type person. I mean, granted, I'm 27 years old, and obviously not totally naive when it comes to sex, but throw toys into the equation, and I don't have a clue. Just looking at pictures of vibrators makes my cheeks go red. So, why, you ask, am I putting myself through the embarassment of a sex toy party? Well... two reasons actually.

1. Brian asked me to go. Brian is my best friend, and is going through a hard time right now, and I would do pretty much anything for him.
2. I'm actually kind of curious about the whole thing.

So there you have it.

And now, if you'll excuse me... I have some cleaning to do. Yay.

Utterly famous

I walked into Shea's office today, to meet her for lunch. Because I haven't been to her workplace since it was renovated, I wasn't sure where her new office space was, and had to go to the receptionist to ask. Upon seeing me, the receptionist immediately pulled out a month-old newspaper that featured my (terrible, unfortunately) picture on the front page, and proceeded to ask me to sign it. Yes, for real.

Now, people, I assure you, I am SO not famous. I am a small (and when I say small, I mean a population of 17,000 or so) city library assistant. I'm not well known for anything, and I only happened to be in the paper because my boss needed someone to pose in the garden behind the library, pretending to be using a laptop. Other than that, you wouldn't know me from Adam.

But whatever. The receptionist said she wouldn't take me to find my sister until I signed, so away I signed. Sweet, but just a tad bit weird.

When she finally DID bring me to my sister, we went on to have a lovely lunch with Jenni at a nearby restaurant.

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Because I work for a city, we have a safety board (comprised of one person from each city department) that meets monthly to discuss accidents that may have occurred during the past month, which required the doling out of workman's comp. Generally, my boss gets to attend the meetings, but since he was away at a conference yesterday, and since he knows how I feel about these meetings, he kindly asked me to take his place.

I don't know what it is about other people's misery, but I love hearing about it. I don't even care about the voting it preventable or non-preventable. I just want to hear who got hurt, how it happened, and just how bad the injury was.

I think there's something wrong with me.

Spoooooky

Trick-or-treating kicked my ass. Who knew you could be so tired after just walking around a neighborhood with a couple of kids for an hour? The children in question, though, had an awesome time. The princess insisted on wearing the shoes that came with her costume, and a half hour into trick-or-treating, she had given up on them and was walking around in her tights.

But it was the little man whose behavior indicated when it was time to go home. I realized he was getting punchy when he started yelling, "Thank you LORD!" at every single house we went to.

Oh, to be 4 years old again.

NaBloPoMo Extravaganza

First off, Happy Halloween! The little ones an I will be out in all our firefighter/Tinkerbell/kitty (if I can find the cat ears that should be stored in a box SOMEWHERE, that is) glory. Here's to safe trick-or-treating and sugar-induced comas!

Second, I've just signed up for National Blog Posting Month (or NaBloPoMo, for those in the know). I'm not sure WHY I did, since there's only one person who reads my blog, but for some reason I felt compelled to sign up anyway. Here's hoping I can stick with it.

Here, kitty kitty kitty.

So I want to get a cat.

Like, really, really badly. I've ALWAYS been a cat person; there was a cat in the house before I was born, and we were never without at least one kitty the whole time I was growing up. I miss that. A lot.

The problem? I live in an apartment where pets are not allowed. *Sigh*

I'm sooo thinking about sneaking one in.

Soon.

<3

Have a good day

My best friend Brian and I have come to a scary conclusion: When he's happy and lucky in love, I am not. And when I'm having a great day, he tends to be having a horrible one.

This can change on a day-to-day basis, but it's a fairly reliable system. For instance, Saturday, I was feeling down-in-the-dumps, and spent most of the day feeling sorry for myself. But Brian? He was on cloud 9, enjoying family time and just having a lovely day. Sunday, though, the tables turned, and while I had a great time with the kids, Brian was depressed.

So this morning, we talked on our way to work and school, and our conversation ended like this:

Brian: Well, I'm almost as school so I'm gonna go call M at work...
Me: Ok... good luck.
Brian: Yeah. Thanks. Have a good day.
Me: You too.
Brian: (with a not-so-happy sounding laugh) Ok. And if I start having a better day, I'll call to make sure you're ok.

Oy. One of these days, we're BOTH going to be happy. At the same time! For now though, maybe it needs to be this way so the cheerful person can cheer the sad one up.

If I only had a sewing machine

What the little man said to me this morning:

"You're the best mommy in the whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole world."

And the thing is? He was being completely sincere. My kid honestly thinks I'm the best mother he could possibly have. And that, my friends, is called success.

P.S. Halloween is coming. Which means I need to get some costumes together really soon. Gav is easy... he's already got all the components for his costume, because of course, he will once again be a firefighter for Halloween. (I don't know what would happen if I ever were to try to get him to dress up as something else... a mutiny, probably). And the princess has decided she wants to be Tinkerbell. I suppose I could buy a costume at Wal-Mart that every other 6 year old in our neighborhood will be wearing as well (and to be honest, that's probably what I WILL do, because I lack the creativity gene), but man I wish I could find (or better yet, MAKE) a cool fairy costume. Then again, that would require time. And artistic ability. Of whichI have NONE.

Ah well... Wal-Mart, here we come.

Wait. Did I just totally prove that I'm not actually the best mommy in the whole world? Oopsies.

Read all about it.

Problem:

I need to read SOMETHING other than chick-lit. And while there's nothing wrong with chick-lit as a genre, per se, as part of my job, I'm supposed to read something interesting and review it for our website. Luckily I don't have to put my name on this review, because often I am the one talking about the newest teen novel (even though I'm 27 years old).

So anyway, I've picked up "Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister" by Gregory Maguire. Here's hoping it's good.

And that my next blg entry will be a teeeeensy bit more entertaining. ;o)

In reality

Confession:

I am a reality tv-aholic. If it's a reality show, I will probably watch it, good, bad, or downright inappropriate. Case in point: there was once a show called "The Littlest Groom," in which a little person (midget? dwarf? I'm not sure which) was looking for a wife. And he had all of these little person women to choose from. But then came the twist (and there's ALWAYS a twist): the producers threw in a bunch of average-height women too. Not exactly quality tv, people, but I was RIVETED. I also watch "The Real World," and just about every other show on MTV, and am probably one of the few crazies who actually likes it more now that they don't play music any more.

So, with that said, last night I watched the two-hour premier of "Beauty and the Geek." I think it's a little too early at this point for me to give any kind of critique, but so far, I'm liking it. Of course, I am a LOYAL BaTG fan, so, you know, I'm probably not going to say negative things about it anyway. Although, just so you know, I think this season's "beauty" guy (my boss calls him a "mimbo") looks like a complete jerk. I'm so not a fan of men who KNOW they're good-looking. I want you to be cute and not have a clue that girls are constantly checking you out. Because otherwise, you just suck as a dude.

Ok, stepping off the soapbox. =P

Oh, ew.

I hate it when creepo patrons at my library hit on me.

And it's ALWAYS the creepos who do it. Could it, just once, be someone normal? Please??

*Sigh*

9-11

6 years ago today, I was on maternity leave.

Princess-pants had been born two weeks earlier, and I was the happiest new mom in the world... enjoying every little noise, every tiny movement she made. I was also oblivious to anything going on in the outside world, because when you're a new parent, that child IS your world.

So when my then-husband, an on-air personality for a local radio station, came home mid-morning on September 11, 2001 and told me to turn on the tv, I had no idea what the commotion was all about. We sat there, in the bed I hadn't bothered to get out of yet, for HOURS, watching the news broadcasts, and the whole time I remember feeling slightly panicked, thinking to myself, "I just brought a child into this world."

It was a scary thought. But at the same time? Maybe the kids being born right now are the ones who are going to make everything better... you never know.

Meeeeemories

Last Friday, while lunching with the sistahs at our favorite cafe in downtown, Sheasy mentions that someone who occasionally works with her looks quite a bit like my first love, Brandon. I look at her with interest.

"What's this guy's name?" I ask.
"Todd."
"And is he married?"
"No, I don't think so."
"How old is he?"
"A couple of years older than me," she answers.
"Reeeeeeally..." I say.

Finally, Jenni interrupts. "Stop answering her questions!"

Ahem. It's not like I wanted to DATE the guy... I just happen to be a curious person, ok? Ok.

Anyway, after a rough start (as in, my car battery was dead when I got out of work on Friday), I made the trip to Rhode Island without any other drama. Well, without MUCH drama, anyway.

*Wink wink*

Life is a highway

Tomorrow, I'm driving to Rhode Island. From New Hampshire. By myself. In a minivan that sometimes makes funky noises. Yay!

I don't mind telling you that I am not the greatest driver in the world. I mean, I tend to stay out of accidents for the most part (knock on wood), but driving kinda scares the crap out of me. Especially highway driving. And guess what I'm going to be spending almost 3 hours doing tomorrow? Yup, you guessed it: highway driving. If only I was the only one on the road, I would be a pro. Alas, I'm not, and most of the trip will take place in Massachussets, which is notorious for its (and I'm truly sorry to have to say this, all you people from Mass.) bad drivers.

So, wish me luck. Hopefully the faithful soccer-mom van will make it in one piece, and I'll spend a stress-free, rejuvenating weekend in a state that I don't actually like all that much.