happy Halloween
I have on striped socks today
I’m such a wild child

I went to the wee one’s school today to help with their "fall centers" which is code for "Halloween Party." It was a blast. The wee-er one wore her ladybug hat and sat at a computer keyboard, happily banging away, while I read Halloween stories and fed kids cookies and juice boxes.

I was so impressed with how well the kiddos all bounced from center to center without everything completely devolving into chaos. They made ice cream sundaes and strung necklaces and played bingo and made ghostie lollipops – and they were so well-behaved.

Reading the books with them was great fun. I hope I can go back again for another non-party party.

Now we’re home and it was discovered that the evil puppy chewed the all important M off of the wee one’s Mario costume hat. Dun Dun DUUUUUUN. So I better go fix it. As well as dinner. And then I’m going to eat half a bag of candy because I can’t stop myself.

Mario and the Disgruntled Ladybug say Boo.


Fantastic news!

"I just like how he’s always leaning. Against stuff. He leans really well."

My So-Called Life is, like, FINALLY out on DVD. It was out once before? But I don’t know what happened. Now it’s out for real and, like, my whole existence has been waiting for this one moment, you know? This moment in time. And it’s here. And I can, like, feel it breathing down my neck. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to get sucked into a moment of time and never be released. I would totally get stuck in math class or a conversation with my mom. But other people? Other people might get stuck right now.

Please tell me someone else is as excited as I am and that I’m not the only 31-year-old pretending to be Angela Chase on her blog.


bags and bags and bags
obscene amounts of candy
make obscene fat ass

In an apparent desire to cure me of being "too skinny," my husband went out and bought some Halloween candy.

1 bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups
1 bag of Three Musketeers minis
1 bag of Butterfinger minis
1 bag of Baby Ruth minis
2 bags of Nestle Crunch minis

Have I mentioned there are only, like, seven kids that live in our neighborhood and two of them live in my house?

Have I also mentioned that my stomach is still not right from being sick last week, so I can’t actually eat any of the SIX BAGS OF HALLOWEEN CANDY sitting on my kitchen counter?

Might as well put a leash on me and sic growling dogs at my gentials. I think that would be preferable.

everyone’s a winner at the lollipop tree!

did not steal candy
can I get reward for that?
like, maybe, candy?

Yesterday was the fall festival at the wee one’s school. I imagined it would be booths scattered around the playground area, and happy people skipping by, with balloons and funnel cakes, enjoying the beautiful fall weather. Instead, it was a bunch of kids and sour faced adults crammed into the school’s cafeteria. Not every adult was sour faced, some were getting a kick out of playing games and taking pictures of the very, very few kids who came dressed up. But many looked positively glum.

I know there’s no budget for bouncy things and funnel cakes and it wasn’t fair of me to expect that, but I did and so I was disappointed. I also realize that the fall festival is not for the parents, but for the kids, so it isn’t even fair for me to be disappointed.

I volunteered to run the Lollipop Tree for a little while. The grouchy old lady in charge of it before me told me to make sure I replenished the tree with lollipops, but only every other one should be a winner. Also, I noted that she wasn’t letting any kid have a second chance, even though there were a million Blow Pops (what you won as your prize) and only about twenty kids, if even that.

So I took my seat, waved bye to the grouchy old lady, and immediately began to buck the system. I made almost all of the lollipops winners. And I gave kids up to three turns. Yes, that’s right. I stuck it to the Man (but only after deeming there were enough Blow Pops to survive my rule-breaking).

I shouted, "Everyone’s a winner at the lollipop tree!" over and over, and made the people eating hot dogs in the "stuff your face" area of the cafeteria that was close to my perch glare at me for being cheerful at a festival. Or maybe they were glaring at me because I was being loud. Eh, either way.

Sigh. I’m glad the kids all seemed to be having fun. And at least a third of the adults seemed to be enjoying themselves. But it sucked to be inside on a gorgeous day. It also kind of sucked that the principal stood around, spinning his ID badge like a Bobby with his baton. It seemed for a while that he was just standing there, wishing he had a tall police hat, praying for some rabble rouser to cause a stink so he’d have something to do. Eventually, though, I did see him helping out with the chili for the Frito pies, so I’m happy he dropped the Bobby imitation. The vice principal seemed to be truly enjoying herself, so that was good.

Ah, well. It’s silly for the fall festival to make me rethink my decision as far as the wee one’s schooling is concerned, but it kind of has. I love the wee one’s teacher, and I think he’s doing very well in school. He loves it, he’s happy, he has tons of friends, and I’m very happy with the diversity he’s part of everyday. But the school itself… I still don’t know. I want to love it. And I want the reason why I can’t quite love it yet to be that I’m just too hard to please. But I don’t know if that’s it. It’s too early for me to be able to figure anything out, but the overwhelming feeling I have is that the wee one is very lucky to have an above average teacher at an average school. Is that OK? Is that enough for us? Do I accept the average-ness and throw myself into things like the PTA to try and make it an above average school? Or do I accept that an average school is OK, but start looking around at other choices for next year? I don’t know. It’s too early to make a decision… and yet I worry a little bit.

If only these things were as easy to figure out as a lollipop tree. A happily rigged lollipop tree where you get a dozen chances to win.

fame whore

she’s sick and sassy
no, not me in third person
Kathy Griffin, bitch

I’m beginning to wonder if, in my Days of Horror, I have pooped out a little bit of my brains. And not just because when I blow my nose I first try to throw the Kleenex away in the refrigerator and THEN the trash can. I’m worried about my brain because I’m spending my whiny sick time on the couch watching Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. I am not doing this because someone has tied me to a chair. I am not doing this because someone has my eyes taped open and is torturing me for information on Dick Cheney’s whereabouts.

I’m watching it because I like it.

I know.

But y’all? Kathy Griffin is a sassy bitch. She does shows at places like maximum security prisons. And when she has to wear a stab vest to visit the prisoners and someone shouts out "I want to kill you!" she just tosses her head and says, "Oh, honey, get in line." Which, if you think of the circumstances and all, is pretty hilarious. If I was wearing a stab vest and someone yelled out that they were going to kill me, I’d be all "heh heh" and try to be cool about it and then I would get diarrhea. But I am not Kathy Griffin.

Her meek staff of minions are enjoyable, too, especially hapless Tom the Tour Guy who is constantly ridiculed and abused. Also something I like about the show? The captions are pretty funny. I would give you an example that has to do with Suzanne Somers, but I can’t remember the name of the other person in the story. Trust me, though: funny.

In conclusion, if you ever have a few Days of Horror and you need to lay on the sofa and cry a little bit and then laugh a little bit and then wonder if you can poop out your brains, check out Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. You will most likely thank me. And if not? You better go get yourself a stab vest.

the end.

dinosaurs are cool

big teeth, scales, feathers
not just Halloween costume
or picture of Cher

Hey, so it turns out Newt Gingrich is a big paleontology nerd. I’m really bummed I didn’t know about his talk in Austin yesterday. I would have totally tried to sneak in (which would have been incredibly stealthy as I lugged a chattering 15-month-old, her bag of necessary crap, a sippy cup that would have been repeatedly thrown at people, and possibly a smelly stroller into the conference room. No one would have ever guessed I didn’t belong).

I never really thought I’d have anything in common with Newt, other than the fact that we both know people in Marietta, Georgia. But we’re both geeks for bones, so there you go.

I’ve always thought that when I retire I will split my time between being a volunteer lactation consultant and a person who takes those extended working vacations as an amateur paleontologist (or archaeologist). I can write books while I’m on airplanes and/or while I’m waiting for babies to learn the proper way to latch. I have it all planned out.

Except for the part where I have something in common with Newt. Whod’ve thunk it?

I M sad

it’s not just my hair
I’m overcome by oldness
just look at my phone

I’m feeling a little left out. I can’t believe  I’ve missed out on the texting revolution. It seems so fun and pointless. Plus, you get to write in silly code, and make up your own code, and cause people to bust out laughing in math class when they get a silent text from you that’s made of only consonants and symbols and means something about someone’s fat ass.

How could I have missed out on this?

I guess it’s not too late, if I really work at it. But that’s kind of the point. Texting doesn’t seem to be something to work at. You just do it. Plus, I don’t have anyone to text anyway.

I’m old, and yet hopefully (in the only text-ish language I know) I’m still

2 good
+2 Be
4 gotten