Quick and Dirty

No, not like that. Get your filthy minds out of the gutter.

Well, first and foremost . . . HAPPY HALLOWEEN, my bloggy peeps!!!

This is my most favoritest holiday ever.  So, of course, upon waking this morning, I discovered that today of all days, I am a big wiener winner!

Jules hosted a hat contest, the winner to be determined on Halloween, for the most fabulous and unique of all hats.

This was my submission:

Not me UNDER the hat.

And even with some very stiff competition, somehow I WON!!  Woo-hoo.  I love winning.  Oh, and what did I win, you are asking?  Well, just the most awesome carved pumpkin ever!

Isn’t she brilliant?  And it’s totally kismet that I won this, since I just recently did a post about Cracker Barrel and how they have the best macaroni and cheese ever!  See?  Kismet.

So, it’s been a pretty good start to the day.  And since this is my third day off of work in a row (we’re not closed today, I had planned to take a vacation day to see the kids’ school parades), we still have power and the sun has finally started to come out, it’s gonna be an excellent day!

Happy Halloween to everyone out there.  May the candy gods smile upon you, and hopefully nobody gets egged!  Now, I’m off to my once yearly trek to Hell-Mart to pick up some cheap candy and decorations.  Wish me luck!

Happy Halloween from my son, 4!

The Attack of Sandy Frankenstorm

So, not sure if anyone’s heard about this little storm we are about to get here on the East coast. It’s been in the news a bit, so you may have some idea of what I am referring to. But probably only if you are, say…..breathing and cognizant of the world around you.

weather.com

Sandy is, of course, a hurricane that is working it’s way up the coast. Not just that, but it’s supposed to combine with another storm coming into the coast, thus the christening of the term “Frankenstorm.” It’s gonna be a rough one, folks.

So bad, in fact, that most schools and some businesses already announced their intent to close for Monday……on Sunday morning. Before even a drop of rain hit the area. A little premature, if you ask me.

Additionally, people in general have been acting like Armageddon is coming. I went to Costco Friday night, when they were just starting to talk about this Frankenstorm in the news, and it was pure madness! I was not there for any storm prep reasons, but realized later that since they sold both bread and milk, people were there to stock up.

To add to the drama, my hubs is currently away on a business trip in Brazil, due to return on Halloween. He’s trying to get an earlier flight, but I’m not holding my breath. This kind of thing is actually not unprecedented. Two years ago, when we got hit with Snowmageddon, the hubs was in Toronto, and he got stuck there because there were no flights. He eventually had to rent a car, drive to Buffalo, then take a train down to Bmore. He’s trying to get a jump on it this time.

This is what he’s getting to see right now:

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Whereas, I’m here with his father, who lives in our basement and just turned 80 years old. Who also has nothing else to do the entire day but watch Fox News and The Weather Chanel. Seriously, those stations should be blocked for anyone over the age of 65. So, as the news stations got more and more heated about the dangers of the approaching storm, my father in law got more worried and frantic. See, the last hurricane that came through caused us to lose power, thus shutting off the sump pump and flooding our basement to the tune of $20k to fix. Accordingly, he is super mega stressed about us losing power. Based on history, he has some cause for concern.  So he asked me about it. Then he called all of his kids. Including my husband . . . in Brazil.  And since there was not much the hubs could do from there, my brother in law (the hubs’ bro) finally tracked down a delivery of generators to a Lowes that was happening early Sunday morning and got one for us. What a life saver! Now, maybe my FIL can relax.

Soooo pretty.

And then, to make it even worse, I needed to go to the grocery store. And the only time I could go was on Sunday afternoon. I was not looking forward to it. At all. I figured it would be a mad house. But I needed some fruits and veggies and some things for the kids’ lunches. And bread. Yeah, I know.

I was actually pleasantly surprised at the lack of chaos I encountered. Sure, there were lots of people, but more of a shopping on a weekend crowd, not a preparing for Armageddon crowd. So, I figured I was in the clear and I would find everything I needed. Until I got to the aisle with the water. Or, I should probably say . . . where the water used to be:

The weird thing was that there was plenty of milk, bread and TP. All that was completely depleted was the water. ALL of the water. It was crazy.

So, the kids are off, my work is closed, and pretty much the entire East coast is closed down. So now I just have to sit and wait, and keep my fingers and toes crossed that we don’t lose power and that the storm doesn’t hit us too hard. Stay safe out there everyone. I hope to see you on the other side.

Enter the Ghouls & Goblins

In the previous post, I discussed last weekend’s foray into the world of all things Fall.  The morning consisted of pumpkin picking, hay rides and mazes.  However, once we returned home, the true festivities began. 

As we are fast approaching my favorite holiday, it was high time for some decorating fun around the house.  I have procured the children’s Halloween costumes, so now the decorations need to go up.  Candy buying will occur on the one day a year I visit Target’s ugly step-sister . . . Walmart.  That is for later.  But for now, we needed to grab all the bins from the basement and get on this decoration spree!

So, we commenced with sticking things on windows and taping up paper ghosts on the wall.  Then, I was on Halloween themed light duty, which was so much fun!  But eventually, I got the lighted sign up above the door, the Frankenstein string of lights hung above it, and the pumpkin and ghost lights strung along the stair banisters.  Once we were done, it kinda looked like Halloween ran through and threw up all over my house.  But that’s kind of the plan, so we were all good.

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I know I need something on that door.  It is just so . . . naked!  I had a huge paper Dracula last year, but it did not fair well in the storage bins and is now all torn to pieces.  I have a backup plastic skeleton, but it’s purple, which sort of blends in with the maroonness of the door.  I guess I’ll just have to take another trip to Target to try to find something appropriate.  Sigh.  Oh, the horror.

The interesting thing about going through my Halloween bins every year, is that I always find things I didn’t even know I had.  At the end of each season, I shop the clearance aisles and always grab pretty much whatever is left over the week or so after the holiday.  As this holiday comes directly before the BIGGEST RETAIL HOLIDAY OF ALL TIME, Christmas (don’t fool yourself, Thanksgiving doesn’t count at all for stores), they try to clear the Halloween stuff out fast and cheap.  Goody!  So, I usually buy a big bag full of stuff, then immediately turn around and throw it in the bin to be stored until next year.  So when I open up my bins to decorate . . . I always discover previously unused items.  This year I found a full on blonde wig:

I tried it on.  And let me tell you . . . I am not cut out to be a blonde.  No matter what some might say!  But what I did also find was some fun Halloween themed nail polish!

And while I usually have very well coiffed and prettily painted toes at all times, I am not a finger nail painting kinda girl.  I just don’t see the point as it seems to just come off right away, and I somehow always smear it the second I paint it.  But since I wasn’t going anywhere and didn’t really have anything to do that night, I figured I’d give it a go with this funky sparkly color.  It turned out pretty good.

Even the hubs, who pretty much despises all things Halloween, joined in on the fun.  To an extent.  He had picked up a haunted house gingerbread type kit at the store and he figured that evening would be a good time to put it together with the boys.  Unfortunately, the directions called for 12 & 1/2 Tablespoons of water to go with the icing powder that was to be created and then piped to hold the pieces together.  And while my instincts said that the measurement was bizarre, we followed the instructions . . . and produced white soupy water.  That would not thicken no matter how long we stirred or mixed or how much extra powdered sugar was added to it.  I think it was supposed to be 2 & 1/2 and not 12.  So, because of that misprint, the boys, who were super excited at first, had to wait and wait and wait.  So, of course, being young kids, they got restless.  And started running around the house.  And tripping over rugs.  And crying.  And being sent to their rooms.  After much yelling and scolding.  And basically being generally rambunctious and miserable.  Sigh.  Oh well, it was a long day and had to come to an end at some point.  This is as far as we got with the house building project:

I still don’t think that damn icing has thickened yet.  It’s a shame because, although for sure a messy project with 2 young boys, I think it would have been fun and enjoyable, even if they would have ended up covered in head to toe icing and candy corns.  Hey, wait . . . maybe we should just decorate them.  The boys, I mean.  That would be much more fun, yes?  Hmmmm.

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Have your started your Halloween festivities and decorations?  What are you going to be for Halloween this year?

Falling Into Fall

This past weekend officially started the fall season for my family.  “But Misty,” you say, “fall started a good 4 weeks ago!”  And to that, I would say . . . “Hey!  Who are you, and how did you get into my living room?”  But after that, I would agree, that calendarily (totally created that just now . . . I kinda like it.  Thinking it will catch on), Autumn has in fact been with us for a full month.  However, our Autumn thus far has been incredibly warm.  Also, I just commented to the hubs last week that even though it was mid-October, none of the leaves had started changing yet, and what on earth were they waiting for?  And then this past week . . . Blam-O!  Fall colors.  Chilly temps.  Autumn is here!

So, to take advantage of this most fall like weather and colors, we decided to take the kids to the pumpkin patch on Saturday morning.  It was a brilliant day . . . warm, but with a little nip in the air, sunny and beautiful.  We go to the same farm every year, just a few miles from our home.  They have huge fields full of pumpkins, and also any other assorted crop you could think of . . . apples, spinach, cauliflower, broccoli, beets, etc.  But this time of year is the best, because they also have hayrides that go through the woods, booths set up with apple fritters and cider, and a hay maze.  Not to mention the huge barn filled with goodies such as apple butter (yum!), apple cider, apples, breads, sauces, veggies, and other sundry items.

We always start our day at the farm with a hayride.  The boys love it because it travels beside a huge man-made lake that has a couple of sea-monsters in it (look, we found Nessie!), and then goes through a wooded area with big paper mache figures depicting Shrek and co., Harry Potter and friends, and all of the creatures from the 100 Acre Woods.  Lots of fun, and not at all scary, so it’s perfect for my kids. 

Heading into the woods . . .

After the hayride, we then moved on to the most delicious part of the day . . . apple fritters and apple cider.  Yummy!  So, as we are waiting patiently in line for our fritters, 2 of the teenaged girls who had previously been serving them, come running out and perform a rap about fritters.  Yep, I’ll let that one sink in a bit.  Two very very white teenaged girls came running out and started rapping about the fritters, complete with an ending flourish of crossed arms and leaning against each other . . . gangsta style.  When it first started, I think I was in some sort of shock, and then I turned to my husband and said, “why am I not recording this?”  Such a missed opportunity.  It was brilliantly bizarre and awful!

After we had been fully frittered, we were off to the Hay Maze.  Now, there are two mazes at this farm.  One is for little kids and it is basically a big square space surrounded by hay bales with a couple very low bales sprinkled around.  The other is the big huge maze where there are twisty, windy paths and the hay bales are piled about 5 feet high.  My kids went into the kiddie “maze” first.  I think my oldest was a bit apprehensive about running into the big one first, and wanted to get his feet wet.  I recall a certain incident last year where he got disoriented inside the maze and came out crying and scared.  So, they went in the little one and ran around a bit.

After about 15 minutes of watching them run and jump around on the hay bales, I asked if they were ready to go in the big maze.  They both were so, holding hands so as not to lose each other, off they ran into the maze . . . and came out about 5 minutes later, anxious to do it again!  So they went in about 3 more times.  What a difference a year makes.

Next we were off to shop for pumpkins and other fun stuff.  My husband found a gourd that he thought represented another item of his anatomy.  Ahem.

Sure, hubs. NOT delusional at all. Uh-huh.

The boys got to pick out their very own pumpkins as well . . .

My lil punkin heads!

And then we were off to the barn full of yummy and delicious apple and pumpkin related products.  I grabbed a scrumptious pumpkin bread, some apple butter and a jug of cider.  The hubs got a basket of apples and some spinach.  Along with the pumpkins we had picked, we were all set!  Although while we were checking out, I did look up and see something a bit disturbing:

Gourds painted with eyes on them.  Weird.  Is this some sort of warding off evil with an evil eye type thing?  Anyone have any guesses?

Once we left the farm, we realized that fall had not only arrived, but had exploded with color all along the road.  I took a couple of shots of some of the gorgeous trees on our way home.

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Once we got home, I took a picture of the trees in my own backyard, which I thought were the most spectacular by far.  I am not in any way biased on this point.

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Glorious, yes?  And I love the effect of the reddening of the tree from the top down.  A full two days prior to this, you could hardly see any red in the very tippy top of the trees at all.  It happened super fast.  When it decided it was going to change, it did not mess around.

It was a very fall heavy day.  All told, we had some fun at the pumpkin patch, got some yummy food items and some pumpkins and got to see the leaves changing on our trip practically right before our eyes.

Our haul. Not pictured: 2 more HUGE pumpkins and pumpkin bread.

The remainder of the day involved many Halloween activities, which will have to be foretold at a later time, as it is just too much for one post.  Stay tuned . . .

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What fall-like activities have you experienced thus far?  Has Autumn truly hit you yet?

The Language of Love

The hubs and I first met in the summer of 1996. I was a very young 21 year old college student, having the most fun I’d ever had and looking the best I ever would. He was a 28 year old man looking to settle down and start a family. We met when he visited his sisters for lunch at work. I happened to be the receptionist, working there for the summer. Chinese food was ordered. I ran to fetch it (being the glorified errand girl and all), and we all sat around talking and laughing and eating. We were pleasant to each other, but it was no more than a casual meeting on a random day.

A few months later, my mother asked me to attend a wedding with her as her date, since my father was going to be out of town. It was an excuse to go home for the weekend, and I had known the family since I was a kid (although not specifically friends with the bride), so I figured, why not. The bride just happened to be my future husband’s cousin.

I knew many people at the wedding, and was having a really good time. I had some food, some drinks, and conversed with a bunch of people I had known since I was a kid. Including my co-workers, the hubs’ sisters. In fact, pretty much his entire family was at this wedding.

Not sure if any of you remember the great musical stylings of 1996, but this was the year of the Macarena. So of course, this being a wedding, it was mandated by law that the song be played. I had been doing this dance for months, and had perfected my arm placements and butt shimmying moves. So I ran out to the dance floor with a couple other girls, and danced my little heart out. I still say that my butt shaking is what first piqued the hubs’ interest. I was adorable, sexy, wearing a little black dress, and shaking it all over the dance floor. I mean, who could resist? 😉

Anne Taintor

At the after party at the bride’s parents’ house (the hubs’ aunt and uncle), we ended up playing pool together. Him being a worldly and smooth kinda guy, he made a bet with me that I would have to go on a date with him if he won the game. He kindly didn’t decimate me in that game, but won just enough, thus ensuring a date.

In the beginning of our relationship, he wooed me pretty hard. He was older and had a decent job, so he could afford to take us out on real dates, as opposed to the previous run-up-to-taco-bell-at-midnight-and-get-a-chalupa type deal I was used to with my prior college boyfriend. I wasn’t looking for serious, but he was. I just wanted to have some fun and was not expecting to fall in love. He was. So I got the hard court press from him. Flowers, presents, dinners, trips, etc. It was kind of intoxicating for someone who had never been treated well by a man before. I mean, who could help but fall in love with someone who treated them like they were the only woman in the world?

I was the first one to say those magic words. You might think I was a silly love-struck girl that just threw those words around all the time. Nothing was farther from the truth. I had been hurt by many a careless and cruel man in the past. I was completely gun-shy and not in any way prepared for that actual L word. The hubs knew this. He didn’t push. He didn’t smother me or try to crush me with emotion. I had a wall around my heart that had been up for a while. He didn’t try to break it down with a sledgehammer. He chipped away at it, brick by brick. And he told me he loved me . . . but just not with words.

When I would spend the night at his house, which happened more and more the longer we dated, he would always leave for work before I would wake up. When I would go into the bathroom, I would find that he had left a card for me. Every time. Every time. It was so lovely to have someone think of you like that every single morning and want to do something special for you. I smiled every time I read the words he wrote to me each day.

Besides the cards, he would always do little things to show me he cared about me. He would grab take out from my favorite restaurant, and have it there when I arrived at his house. He would plan a surprise trip to somewhere he knew I would love. Send flowers for no reason except to make me smile. He was a decent, kind and giving man, and I eventually fell in love with him. Not because of the gifts or the trips. But for the things he was telling me through those things. “I’m thinking of you.” “I care about you.” “You are beautiful to me.” “I love you.”

We were married in the fall, on what started out to be a chilly and rainy day. October 19, 2002. By the time we were ready to say our “I do’s,” though, the sky had cleared, and the temperatures had warmed. It was a most perfect day.

Anne Taintor

That was ten years, two kids, and a million experiences (both good and bad) ago. I still love him, but our love has grown. We may not utter those words to each other as often as we did back when our love was fresh and new and exciting, but we still tell each other of our love. Maybe not in words, but in actions.

He buys me a latte from Dunkin Donuts every Sunday on his way back from taking the boys to church. He takes out the garbage and recycling, does the dishes, cooks Sunday dinner and takes care of the dog. He is an amazing father to my children and still treats me like I am the most important woman in the world to him. All of these actions tell me he loves me every single day. He is still the only man I have ever truly loved. He worked for that love and I gave it to him without resolve. I hope he sees by the little things I do and say that I still love him as well.

He is the extra large black coffee to my small iced caramel latte.

Happy Anniversary babe. We’ve had a good run. Hope we keep running for a while longer. Love you!

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What unspoken things do YOU do to show your significant other you care?

A Picture’s Worth a Thousand . . .

Time once again for me to graciously share with you all my exquisite and beautiful photography efforts as of late, and for you lucky souls to regale me with your wonder and praise.  No, no, really.  You don’t have to thank me.  I’ve a giver like that.

There is just something about rays of sunlight shooting through dark clouds that speaks to me.  And I am not even a religious person.  Hell, I’m not even an optimist!

It’s almost Halloween, so an authentic cobweb that I awoke to find on my porch one morning just seemed appropriate, n’est pas?

Some wheeeerrrreeeeee . . . over the rainbow . . .

Just your average late summer sunset seen from my front door.  Ho-hum, la-di-da.

As I was leaving work one day, I happened to glance upwards and saw this.  It was pretty awesome, as obviously a storm was moving in, but it was rushing in all at once, splitting the sky between sunny day and dark foreboding storm clouds.

This one was kind of a cool effect.  Driving home from the ocean this summer, at night, I looked down at my middle console, and saw this.  It was a rental, so it was unexpected, but apparently the cup holder had a little blue light and it was making my bottle of Dasani glow like this.  It was a little eery and entirely awesome.

Just another sunset in Ocean City, bayside.

Wispy, fluffy clouds over the ocean.  Makes me once again long for the beautiful warm sunny days at the beach.

Morning on the beach.

This was a shot that I took specifically for a contest on Vesta Vayne‘s site.  (No, I don’t normally sit around taking pictures of my feet propped up next to fruity cocktails).  The drink was delicious, and this shot was the winning picture in her contest as well.  I’m not sure she had very many entrants, but out of the thousands of pictures I like to think she got, mine was far superior to them all!!

I took this picture one day when I happened to be driving around Baltimore.  I initially intended to do a sights and sounds of B-more post that just never happened.  But this is your typical block of rowhouses found in B-more, complete with stoops (sadly it was too hot that day for stoop sitting, because that’s the real picture of the city).

I just thought it looked like the sky went on forever in this picture.  And I took it while driving, so mad skills!  (Shhh, don’t tell).

What can I say . . . we’re very rainbowy in these parts.  And this was actually a double rainbow, although you can’t really see it in this picture.  If you look at the far upper left corner, you can see just the hint of the other one.  And in case you are wondering, I keep looking for that damn pot of gold, but those leprechauns are really freaking good at hiding that mutha!  And I haven’t seen any unicorns or Rainbow Brite or anything, either!  Dammit.

While I admit this picture didn’t turn out the best, I thought it was kinda rad that a praying mantis was just hanging out in my porch one day.  I didn’t want to get too close, lest I startle her away, hence the fuzzy nature of the pic.  I have never seen an angry mantis, but based on what I know about their post coital  habits, I don’t think I wanna see one on the attack, thank you.

Just a Little Wicked

Last week, I finally got to do something I had wanted to do for many years.  I went to see the broadway show, Wicked.  As with most things that I do, it was not without some drama.

When I heard Wicked was coming to my city a few months ago, I got very excited.  Thus commenced the mad dash of texts to friends to try to find someone who wanted to go with me.  I needed a girl’s night at the theater and someone would be coming along for the ride!  Luckily, my friend who also came with me to the Singing in the Rain showing, excitedly agreed to join me for the show.

Tickets were purchased.  Husbands were informed of their dad duties for that evening.  Anticipation was building.  It was going to be an awesomely fun night.

Then, the fateful night arrived.  Despite the fact that I drove all the way home from the city in ridiculous traffic, just so I could change out of my suit, grab the tickets and my friend, and immediately turn right around and drive back to the city, the evening started off without a hitch.  We chatted in the car about our equally crappy job situations, and just generally enjoyed each others’ company.  When we got downtown, we went to a local mexican place for some quick chow before the show.  I had asked if she wanted to grab some food before dinner, as this area is kind of my hood, so I knew of a good but fast mexican joint across the street from the theater.  Luckily, she is a fan, so we went ahead and got some delicious burritos and nachos.  Once we were finished our Mexican feast, we were off to the show!  First stop . . . alcohol.  We both got a glass of wine before going into the theater, of course.  Once we made it to our seats, we realized that they were actually pretty good.  They were on the floor, right Orchestra, about 15 rows back.  We had a great view.

And what we also had was some great pre-show entertainment.  There was a guy behind us, who was regaling his date with a vomitous amount of stories about himself, which my friend and I found highly entertaining and bizarre.  Some of the best things he said:

I was always typecast as a lawyer when I was an actor.  And then my kids actually became lawyers.  So, the fake lawyer paid for the real lawyers’ education. (Oh, and I snuck a peek . . . he was nobody recognizable).

My mom was an addict.  But it wasn’t drugs or alcohol.  She as a professional poker player.  She used to cuss up a storm.

Have you ever heard of the product Peter Pan Peanut Butter?  I was the first kid, in 1949, to ever utter the phrase on TV, “________________.”  (Yeah, neither one of us can actually remember what the phrase he said was.  But it was familiar to both of us).

I had a weird childhood . . . I never went fishing.  (There was a laundry list of normal things here, but I can’t remember anything but the fishing).

I never had any pets growing up.  I housesat and just fell in love with this dog.  We had a love affair.   (Um, ick?  And his date was a dog trainer or shower or something.  When she could finally get a word in, she talked about some dog with the hugest head ever that she had at a show).

Unfortunately, the show started in the middle of this rapid fire history lesson, but it was just as well.  Eventually, our incessant and uncontrollable giggling at his ridiculousness would have given us away.

Popular. I know about Popu-ular!

The show itself was great.  I will say there were a few wonky voice issues, and some bum notes throughout, but mostly it was very entertaining, if a bit long.  The first half lasted close to two and a half hours.  And that was just before the Intermission.  Unfortunately, this is when the trouble began.

As my friend and I were about to get out of our seats to go potty and probably get another glass of wine, she mentioned that her stomach did not feel well.  Uh-oh.  My first thought was that it was the Mexican food coming back to haunt her, as Mexican has historically been known to do.  Then, as we were walking out of the aisle, she said she was feeling light headed.  No sooner than she said this and we got past the seats, she told me she had to sit, and plunked down in an alcove to the side of the aisle.  Double Uh-oh.  She said she was ok, that she just felt a little dizzy and she needed to sit for a second.  Ok.  So we sat for maybe a minute or less.  She then said she felt a little better but wanted to go to the bathroom, so she got up, and while I held onto her arm, we walked out of the theater.  Unfortunately, we only made it about 10 feet, just enough to get us out of the theater proper and just barely into the hallway, before she dropped like a sack.  Once minute I was holding her arm and the next she was just gone.  She sank down to the floor before I could even react.  Now, I was worried.  This had gone way past uh-oh.

I crouched down beside her and asked what she needed.  She said she just needed a minute.  I felt her head and she was clammy, so I told her she should probably just lie down.  I didn’t want her to hit her head if she fell over, even from her sitting/leaning position.  So she laid there.  And I rubbed her arm.  And wasn’t sure what to do.  I wasn’t going to leave her laying there to get help, and she was conscious and lucid, but the problem was that I’m a lawyer not a doctor.  Plus, I’m not really the best in crisis situations.  My hubs is the calm, cool, logical, take action one.  I kinda fall apart.  But not this time.

An usher came out about a minute after this happened and asked if we needed help.  Um, there is a person laying in the middle of the floor, so I’m thinking the answer is, “Hell Yes.”  I asked her if there was a Medic or Medical Professional in the building that she could call.  She acknowledged my request and then walked away, presumably to find someone.  The next person who came over was obviously some sort of supervisor, and once again asked what we needed.  I reiterated that we needed someone with medical knowledge.  As we were waiting, people were pouring out of the theater and walking along the hallway, and many of them stopped to ask if we needed help.  I assured them that someone was coming.

Fortunately for us, the tenth person to ask if she was ok was actually a doctor.  She was just a lady who was there to see the show, and happened to walk by and see my friend laying on the ground.  So she came to give her assistance.  She was an angel and I was so happy to see her!  I have never felt so useless in all my life as when I was sitting next to my friend, petting her arm, and having no idea what else to do.  Around the same time, security came over and wanted to take her to the hospital, but she didn’t want to go, insisting she was fine.  They were very persistent, though, and it finally took the doctor to tell the security guys (off duty cops) to back off and “she has the right to refuse an ambulance!  You can’t make her go to the hospital!”  She was completely awesome and I loved her.

Soon after, my friend sat up and was ok.  I ran to the bathroom (once she was in the capable hands of our doctor friend) because she just kept asking for a cold washrag for her head, so I got her some wet paper towels, which was the closest facsimile.  The color returned to her face and the doctor, who was taking her pulse, said that it had slowed down and she seemed better.  She definitely looked better, and after a wet rag on her head, and a few sips of water, she said she felt better.  She figures it was the fact she had not eaten much that day, hadn’t drank any water, and had a glass of wine while sitting in a hot, dark theater.  Whatever the reason, the doctor thought she was ok enough not to go to the hospital.

At this point, everyone was working their way back into the theater to see the second half, and my friend asked if I wanted to go back in.  I told her absolutely not, she was not well, and I was taking her ass home. She felt really bad that we would miss the second half of the show.  Especially after paying over $100 for each ticket!  She even went so far as to suggest she could just sit on the floor outside of the theater while I went back inside to watch the show.  Yeah, that was gonna happen.  Pfft.  Despite all of my faults (and oh god, there are so many), one of my best qualities is that I am a kickass friend.  I will do anything and everything for my friends, which fact somehow contradicts my obvious selfish nature, but it’s true.  So, missing the end of the play was of no consequence to me when it came to helping my friend and making sure she was ok.   Of course I am disappointed that I didn’t get to see the entire thing, but my friend’s health was obviously more important than seeing a silly play, and there was no way we were staying while she felt the way she did.

Before we left, we were able to talk to a manager and filled out an “incident report” and I’m going to try to contact them to see if we can somehow get other tickets to see the end of the show.  I don’t have high hopes, but I’ll give it the ole lawyer’s try.  And as much as I love my friend, this is the second time in a row we have gone to some type of show and missed the ending.  I think she might be jinxed.  I may need to find someone else to go to any future entertainment events.

On the bright side, the ride home did contain the phrases, “You’ve gotta love an honest stripper,” and, “Well, that was just a show dick.”  So, you know, it wasn’t ALL bad.

Weekly Whacked: Retail Ridiculousness

This very special edition of the weekly whacked will focus on some of the absurd things that I have encountered in stores and other varieties of tangible items that are just a little bit . . . WTF.

“Bubba cola . . . Refresh the redneck thirst in y’all.”  

“Bubba cola . . . The official drink of Hillbilly Handfishin.”

This is a pregnancy test . . . for sale at the checkout line at The Dollar Tree.  Yep, that’s right . . . the determination of whether or not you are with child will be made by a test that costs one whole dollar.  Grab it on your way out, along with that pack of gum and air freshener!

Also in the checkout line at the Dollar Tree . . . at home Marijuana drug test.  Side note:  the hubs just happened to be in this same store about a week after I took this picture, and thought it would be funny to buy this for me.  Oh hubs, you obviously have not been paying attention.  Have I seemed laid back and all “chill out, dude” and spaced out to you?  Not so much.  Having the munchies?  Yes, always.  But the angry, short tempered, highly stressed lady living in your house could actually use some ganja, rather than the need to be tested for it.

I love this liquor store.  Every time I walk by, they have a different quote or saying on this sign.  They definitely get points for creativity.

BY LAW, people.  They are serious about their temperature control.  You will not get colder beer, unless you are one of those lawless hooligans that go to underground beer chiller black market dealers.  What are you, heathens?

Also from the Dollar store (sensing a trend, hmmm?), is probably the worst musical recording in the history of musical recordings.  This is not even worth a dollar.  What a rip-off!

I just find something inherently wrong about peanut butter and jelly flavored vodka.  The flavors are out of control people!

I feel as if I will never comfortably sleep in a seat again, without this marvel of technology.  Available only in SkyMall, people.  Next time you fly, order up a couple and carry them around with you as you travel.  So handy!

These “pants” were lacy and translucent and actually for sale in a myriad of colors in a real store.  This is what’s wrong with society.  These things were just hanging there, innocent as can be, perpetrating the illusion that they are an article of clothing to be worn on your body.  Sigh.

These were sold in the same store.  Shockingly, not The Hootch Hut or Strippers R Us.

“Sexy Mother Pucker.”  While the name is hilariously creative, I don’t really get this stuff.  It’s supposed to pump up your lips?  With “lipswell” and “superfill?”  So, this is like some sort of faux collagen or something?  Weird.

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Seen anything bizarre or kooky in stores lately?

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

This past Sunday, my family and I had the opportunity to go to the first playoff game between the Baltimore Orioles and the New York Yankees, played in Baltimore.

Now, I don’t really talk about sports much on my blog.  Honestly, I’m not a huge sports person.  I’m basically a fan of hometown teams.  And since there are really only 2 major teams in Baltimore, The Ravens (football) and The Orioles (baseball), there’s not much to follow.  Especially since one of those teams has consistently sucked up the joint for the past 15 years.  While The Ravens have been pretty good and fun to watch the last few years, The Orioles have had a losing record for so many years, this city pretty much gave up all hope of ever again having a successful baseball team . . . until this year.

Something happened this year.  Something changed.  And that something’s name is Buck Showalter.  Buck is the Orioles’ manager and has turned this team around.  This year they started to win.  This year they were fun to watch.  This year they actually made it into the playoffs.  So there was no way we were not gonna be there.

The last time the Orioles were in the playoffs was 1997.  I was 22 years old.  The hubs and I had been going out for about a year.  We decided to get tickets to one of the playoff games.  I made a sign to hold up at the game.  It was fun and exciting to be at the stadium that night.  There was an energy.  It was electric.  But it was so very long ago.  Fifteen years.

My 7 year old son is a huge Orioles fan.  He has loved them for years, even through some pretty bleak years.  But he is a true fan.  He knows every player.  He knows their stats.  He wants to watch every game.  Even when they were horrible, he rooted for them zealously and lovingly.  Until this year, he had never seen them play well.  It was always heartbreaking to watch him root so hard for a team that was so bad.  Now that they were finally playing like the Orioles of my husband’s and my youth, we wanted my son to get to experience how we felt all those years ago when we went to that playoff game.

So, we bought the tickets.  We told the kids we were going.  We spent Saturday night making signs.  We watched the weather forecast and obsessively updated the status, hoping for a miraculous change.  But no matter how many times we looked, it was always the same forecast . . . rain.  But we were not deterred!  Baseball was back in Baltimore in October for the first time in forever, and we would not miss this moment.  Weather be damned!

Unfortunately, the weather was damned.  As we arrived at the park, the skies opened up.  We slowly moved through the gates with the crushing crowd, only to be poured upon by the drenching rains.  By the time we got safely under cover inside the stadium, there was a waterfall of water pouring off of my hat and my hair was saturated.  But we were there!  And so very hopeful that the rain would stop quickly and the game would start on time.  But, unfortunately, that was not to be.

So we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  All told, we waited two and a half hours for the game to start.  Luckily, we had club level seats, which meant there was an indoor corridor behind our seats that held plenty of lounge type areas (carpeted alcoves with seats and TVs to watch the other playoff games proceeding as scheduled), so we put a blanket down and had a very long picnic with the boys.  We had some food.  A couple of beers.   The 4 year old played Angry Birds on the iPad.  The 7 year old was antsy and complained most of the time, but I didn’t blame him.  It was pretty boring, and at one point we started discussing whether we should just go home.  Nobody wanted that, but it was getting late and we had young kids and bedtimes to consider.

But finally, finally, after two and a half very long hours, the rain stopped and the tarp was removed from the field.  We headed out to our seats and finally felt that postseason buzz that we had been waiting 15 years to once again feel.  It was electric and exhilarating.  And we looked down from our balcony seats to view a sea of orange.

The boys each had their own signs to hold up, which we had them do at every commercial break, and then they would put them away when each team would come up to bat.  The woman sitting behind me actually thanked me at one point for putting the signs down at each inning, since she had been to a previous game with a very obnoxious sign holder in front of her.  But we tried to be considerate about it, even though we were in the front row and held the signs in front of the bars and not above our heads or anything, but still.  We put them away each time.

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You can even see us in this picture taken by my bloggy bud, Bluz, who was also at the game, but on the opposite side of the stadium.  He did catch one moment when my oldest was holding up his sign:

However, despite our best efforts and continuous sign holding endeavors, TBS never showed him holding his sign on TV!  The only time we were actually on there was when a foul ball was hit into the seats near us and the camera tracked it, getting us in the shot, but just barely:

That’s me in the orange hat,  above the big A on the right, and the hubs is next to me above the S.  So we are all famous-like, now!  Woo-hoo.  Hollywood, here we come!

We did end up having to leave before the end of the game, as it was getting extremely late, the boys both had school the next day, and the little one was starting to look very glazed.  It could have been the late hour, but then again, it might have been the 6 hours straight of Angry Birds he had played.  Either way, it was probably good because at least we weren’t there when our arch nemesis Yankees came back in the 9th inning . . . with a vengeance!  Ugh, it was so painful.  The good news is the next night we came back to win it, so we are tied in the series with one game each.  Go O’s!!

But the best part about the entire evening?   Despite the rain, the interminable waiting for the game to start, and even the loss . . . it was the unextinguishable excitement emanating from my oldest son.  He was the most excited and revved up boy ever.  He grinned, he cheered, he bounced during the entire game.  I just love seeing him that happy and full of joy.  And that night was one of the best of his life, and a memory he will have and be able to share with his own children.  I don’t know that there is any more that I could have asked for that night.

So Much Randomness

As I mentioned previously, the creative juices have not been flowing lately, plus I haz teh siks, which has caused a great big void of blogging on this site.  I am still not feeling completely better or honestly, much more creative, but I feel I must post something of note.  And they always say that if you are blocked, you should just write.  So here I am . . . writing.

But not really, because I’m not really a writer.  I mean, have you seen my blog?  How many pictures are on here?  Like, a bajillionty?  Yeah, that sounds about right.  So, I figure I’ll do what I do best . . . put some crazy pics on here and call it a day.

Ok, fine.  I won’t just do that.  Damn, this is hard.  I am really very foggy.  This is probably the worst post I’ve ever written and it’s only 3 paragraphs so far.  Crap.

Fine, I know what I’ll do.  I’ll just talk about some of the crazy shit that’s been going on in the last couple weeks.  The goofy, the silly, the weird, etc.  (Does anyone else feel like everything I just wrote probably should have been an internal dialogue, and not the beginning to my blog post?  Anyone?  Hello?).

My husband found this.  It’s a Potato Penis.  A Spud Pud.  Tater Dick.  GoldenRod.  Sweet Peener.  Yukon Engorged.  Russet Rocket.

Yeah, it’s awesome.

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At work the other day, one of my very young (and very white) colleagues was calling out the name of one of the parties to a case.  Her name was SADE LEWIS.  He came back to report to me that although he kept calling, nobody responded.  He asked if there was some other way to say the name.  I asked him how he was saying it . . .

Toddler:  “SAYD”
Me:  Seriously?
Toddler:  Why, how do you say it?
Me:  Um, “SHAH-DAY.”
Toddler:  Really?
Me:  Oh my god, are you for real?  You have never heard that name before?  Not even the singer?
Toddler:  What singer?
Me:  ((Facepalm))

So, now I feel very old, but also just a little bit more tan than I had before.  Silly boy.

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My 4 year old son wanted a snack before bed, so he went to the pantry and grabbed something.  When I asked him what he was getting, instead of just telling me, he got creative with it.  He gave me the info via song (there was also a shimmying type dance accompaniment):

Gummy, gummy . . . gummy bears.
Gummy, gummy . . . gummy bears.
Gummy, gummy . . . gummy bears.
Gummy, gummy . . . gummy bears.

Best.  Song.  EVER.

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I was interviewing a client this past week at Court.  I was asking him some background questions, and when I asked him what his job was, his response was this:

Client:  I don’t work.
Me:  You mean you have never worked?
Client:  I don’t work for other people.  They don’t pay enough.
Me:  Does that mean you are self-employed?
Client:  ((Smirk))  Yeah, you could say that.
Me:  So, what do you do?
Client:  You really wanna know?
Me:  Yes, I need to know.
Client:  I hustle.
Me:  Um, ok.  Let’s move on . . .

The honesty is refreshing, at least.

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So, anything fun or interesting going on with you?  Share with the class!