My dad is going to be Steve Jobs' new best friend

Wow--my dad made Google's top news page today with the results of his study about iPods and pacemakers.

How psyched is Apple going to be? Too bad my dad works for FDA so even if they did want to express their gratitude for the upcoming glut of sales to pacemaker-wearers he couldn't accept.

Does FDA permit family members to accept if he can't? Sadly, something tells me no.

Oh well--anyway, my dad now offically outranks me as most famous Bassen. Or does Oprah trump Apple?

Don't even try to sell Matthew any of that fake ass

This is a video of Matthew when he was 2 and a half, being asked what his favorite animal a the zoo is. My dad was kind enough to transfer it from video--and apparently in the nick of time. The tape broke as he was working with it--no doubt from having been watched and rewound and watched again probably hundreds of times.

Time Toilet

Last Thursday I borrowed a 7 day book from the library: Critical by Robin Cook. I had every intention of finishing it, what with it being a quick read, but sadly spent basically all my free time this past week and weekend playing Big Kahuna Reef 2.

When Patrick first introduced me to the world of BKR I just stared at the screen not even understanding how to play or how it could be fun at all. Long story short--that was like a year and a half ago and I became fully obsessed with it, then somehow broke my addiction for a good six or more months. Lately I started up again and wish I hadn't; it truly is like computer crack. "I'll just play one quick game before I (fill in blank with any activity from recreational to mandatory)." One game turns into two, etc, etc until I am forced to stop because I have to leave the house to do something. If I don't have anywhere to be I can easily waste probably 2 hours or even more.

Anyway, now I'm jonesing because I just used my few free minutes before I have to take the kids to Hebrew school to write this instead of playing my "one quick game." So I have to go play it right now...and I dare you to try it, but don't hold me responsible when you too become obsessed with it.


p.s. I don't know why the spell check in Blogger isn't working lately, so pardon any spelling mistakes....I'm missing valuable BKR2 minutes right now and can't waste time cutting and pasting into Word to check spelling.

Having older sick kids is a lot less stressful than having young sick kids. Mimi called me at work this morning with her best sick voice on (she was at Eric's) telling me her stomach hurt so I said she could stay home and I'd come get her from his house at noon. I picked her up, we went to Safeway for popsicles and Gatorade (her choices) and no sooner did we get in the door to the house then the nurse from Matthew's school called saying that HE had a stomach ache. So off in the rain we went to pick him up too. Now they're both home--and magically recovered, at least for the moment. Matthew laid on the sofa for 30 minutes or so then came into the kitchen asking for Honey Nut Cheerios--"A LOT of Cheerios." Then there came Mimi wanting perogies (sp?).

Now I'm "working" from home and trying not to drink Diet Pepsi--I'm trying to detox from it and artificial sweetners in general. It's not going so well--I swear there is the liquid equivalent of nicotine in Diet Pepsi because I crave it like crazy. They need to invent the soda patch or gum or something. Or, since it's not like it affects the lungs or throat like smoke does, I guess drinking it is probably just about the same thing as wearing it or chewing it. And helpful suggestions like just drink water flavored with a little lemon or--even grosser--drink soda with real sugar are the equivalent of telling a smoker to hold a golf pencil and pretend it's a cigarette or something. In other words, useless, but thanks just the same.

Speaking of hopeless cases of addiction, Patrick and I were watching Intervention last week and it featured this woman who was addicted to so many prescription drugs I don't even remember what they were. Pain pills but also something like 20 muscle relaxers a day plus other stuff. I guess she had either arthritis or maybe Lyme disease but they weren't sure; from what Patrick and I could tell the main physical ailment she had was trying to function as an upright human being on 40 kinds of sedatives at once. Not to make fun of someone's serious plight or anything (but you know I will) it was actually funny as hell. She would do stuff like just fall asleep while she was eating, basically folding in half at the waist so her face ended up in her plate or, my favorite, try to talk and just totally botch it. She was talking about going to Taco.....Taco....Taco.....girl just could NOT remember the second word of my favorite restaurant, Taco Bell! Anyway, not to be mean but sorry, it was very entertaining.

You know a night didn't go by without us watching a movie--this time it was Superbad. Yes, we also saw it in the theater so we knew how bad it was--according to everyone but us, that is. Us and all the teenage boys of the world probably. I'm sorry but it is HILARIOUS if you're not above lots of crude sexual humor and swearing. How can you not laugh at lines like, in response to "if you scratch our backs we'll scratch yours," "Um, the thing about my back is...it's located on my cock." Sue us or call us morons, or both, but we laughed hysterically through the whole thing--twice now, and would probably laugh just as hard no matter how many times we watch it.

Smart Sacks

I just got an email from Matthew's elementary school with a reminder about "Family Swim Night" and noticed that the cost is either $5 or one food item per person. Food for the swim night, I thought, puzzled? I read further and saw that the food will be donated to the "Smart Sacks" program run by a local food bank. Smart Sacks is a program that gives a backpack full of kid-friendly food to elementary school children at risk of hunger so they have food to eat on the weekend when there is no school breakfast or lunch.

I'm sorry but reading it just brought tears to my eyes. It has honestly never occurred to me that the kids who get subsidized meals at school may actually not have food at home. It breaks my heart to realize that yes, there are actually kids out there who have no food at home, and makes me feel like a moron for living such a sheltered life that it has never ocurred to me.

I know for a fact that it would NEVER occur to my kids; never for one minute of their lives have they had to worry about food other than to complain about what they don't like or to argue about what restaurant they want to go to.

Tonight we'll be talking about it--that's for sure. And we'll also be donating to the Manna Food Bank. If any of you are so inclined you can also donate online.

New Stewart Lewis Book

Hey--if you followed my advice and read Rockstarlet, Augusten Burroughs' assistant Stewart Lewis' first book (apologies, Stewart, for being forever referred to by me as Augusten's assistant...) you will be excited to know that he's written another book, Relative Stranger, to be released this summer.

Also, you can now download a chapter from Augusten's upcoming book, A Wolf At The Table, on his website.

Write it and they will read?

So I'm reading Web Content Report right now and in the "What's Working" section, where they feature random sites, blogs, trends, etc, they mention "The Non-Blogger's Blogger," someone called Mimi Smartypants. They say she decided to keep an online journal of "every silly little thought to enter her entirely too witty 30-year old brain..." which ultimately got published in book form.

Isn't writing every silly little thought to enter one's mind the definition of blogging? What makes her a "non-bloggers blogger"? Apparently what makes her one is the fact that, either by her own initiative or just by chance--it doesn't specify which--her journal entries were eventually published. Web Content Report goes on to say "Yes, everyone has a blog now...(but) everything this young woman writes down is colored with humor and shaded with charisma." Um, isn't that true of almost every blog worth reading? What makes her so special her blog is--to steal a phrase from Seinfeld--"book-worthy"?

I guess this is hardly a new trend and surely this isn't the only blog-to-book success story but I guess it's the first I've heard of it. My question is how do you luck into the ultimate fuck it off way of getting a book deal? I guess using phrases like "fuck it off" probably don't enhance the odds that some philanthropic publisher will decide your online ramblings are something that would be gobbled up by the masses in print form.

Or who knows--maybe they would be intrigued by the fuck it off philosophy--after all, isn't it just another way of following "The Secret"? God knows that philosophy was apparently book-worthy, not to mention DVD-worthy and product-worthy to the tune of millions. But then again, what better proof is there that The Secret--or, better stated, my beloved Augusten Burroughs' "Magical Thinking"--works? Write it and they will read it...and pay tons for the privilege.

Anyway, since it is highly unlikely HarperCollins will happen to stumble upon my blog and decide I'm the next Bridget Jones I guess I better return to the writing I'm getting paid to do--which, at this particular moment is writing a "news item" about the availability and purpose of the online financial reporting capabilities. Then another news item about the inclement weather policy and yet another detailing the ins and outs of reporting partial day leave. Maybe those gems will be book-worthy.

Sadly the black vs white dance off didn't happen because Matthew refuses to go into Blockbuster. He has an irrational fear of seeing "Chuckie"--that goofy red-haired doll in Child's Play. Crazy. Anyway, I think I'll have to order the movies from Netflix because the chances of getting him inside Blockbuster are slim to none. All thanks to Mimi once--like 4 years ago--helpfully pointing out the cover of that particular DVD which features, even on the spine, Chuckie's face.

Mimi herself used to have a mortal fear of Chuckie, too, but I think she's over it now. Her current fears/obsessions are staph infections and, she announced today, brown recluse spider bites. Go figure. Oh, and thanks YouTube for providing fodder for her irrational fears.

Lately I've come to the conclusion that Mimi is actually Wednesday Adams' doppelganger--at least in terms of personality. While other girls are happily playing Club Penguin or some virtual pony game, Mimi is inexplicably googling stuff like "staff infections" and "brown recluse bites." Warm and fuzzy she is not, but she is oddly entertaining.

Speaking of entertaining, Patrick and I went to see Untraceable today and it ROCKED. I swear it was as good as The Silence of the Lambs. I gave it a straight up 10, but Patrick gave it only a 7--one point off because of a scene portraying something disgustingly cruel to animals (it was gross and sad) and the other two points off for Diane Lane's character doing something stupid at the end. I wasn't really expecting much because Yahoo gave it a C- but I definitely give it an A.

I thought it was very well done and very suspenseful. It does make you think about the whole social media fixation and how small it makes the world seem--or at least it makes me think about it. I won't give away the whole plot, but part of it is that a killer runs streaming video of his victim's deaths and the pace of the torture is dependent on the number of visitors to the site. Just like reality, it goes viral and the number of hits skyrocket--as does the speed with which the victims die.

Anyway, first Mimi, then Patrick and now Matthew are all over me like flies on $hit so I better go put them to bed (except for Patrick).

Ain't nothing going on but the rent here these days. I hate winter. Cassie just called and left me a message (I swear I will call you back today!) telling me how crazy cold it is in Chicago--I'm going to visit her in two weeks. You know that's some sisterly love because I hate being cold more than almost anything in the world. Maybe more than anything--the other things being traffic, crowds and REALLY hot, humid weather. She said I better plan on bringing layers and layers and layers and a face mask. Great. But I'm still looking forward to going, mostly to see her but also because I get to be executive wife and stay in the suite that Patrick gets because he's BMOC now. Sadly I think he's getting the suite without a jacuzzi. Oh well, a free hotel suite is a free hotel suite I guess.

Speaking of free hotel suites, because The Wynn screwed up so many things when we stayed there for our wedding in August the GM has graciously given us two free nights in a Salon Suite . The room in that picture is the room we got married in, actually--in front of that little white half-moon table behind the sofa on the left. The suite has that huge room, a dining table, a wet bar, a powder room, a bedroom and the biggest, fanciest bathroom you've ever seen. Oh--and a massage room. It usually costs $750 a night but we get to stay there for two nights for free because of my flair for complaining.

Why I'm not getting paid to be a professional complainer I don't know because as non-confrontational as I am in regular life, for whatever reason I am very aggressive--er, I mean, assertive--when it comes to service related issues. I've gotten discounts, room upgrades, free food, free champagne, free flowers--once even a box of Godiva chocolates delivered by courier from Lord & Taylor when some sales clerk looked at me wrong back when I was in my postpartum crazy period. I can't for the life of me remember what I had complained about but I honestly think I remember it being because the sales person got my name wrong or some other retrospectively innocuous thing. I do, however, remember the couriered Godiva.

Before this Wynn suite score, which I think trumps anything up to this point, my finest moment was when I got me and Cassie free massages at the Canyon Ranch spa in the Venetian in Las Vegas. All because I complained that I could hear a toilet flush during my massage--that and some construction noise. I'm telling you, ask and you shall receive should always be your motto when you are wronged in any way by a service provider of any sort.

Anyway, in the meantime until we start suite-hopping, we'll probably be either sitting around the house or going to movies. I think we're going to see No Country for Old Men tonight. I have suggested that we also have a black vs. white dance movie dance-off this weekend: Step Up versus Stomp the Yard. Which one do you think will win?

Ambien

I was totally shocked to hear about Heath Ledger's death yesterday. I can't believe he was only 28; somehow he seemed older than that.

I'm curious to hear what the results of the autopsy are; supposedly it will be about 10 days before they're released. The only thing they seem to be reporting is that he had a bottle of sleeping pills near his bed but it doesn't appear to be a suicide. That strikes me as a little alarming, given that almost every woman I know has problems sleeping and takes some form of “sleep aid”.

I'd be willing to bet that the medication they're talking about with regard to Heath is Ambien. Assuming that’s the case, I'm having a hard time believing that it's possible to "accidentally" take a lethal overdose of Ambien. I have a friend whose boyfriend once took 12--along with a ton of alcohol--but thanks to 911 he survived. Unfortunately, a week or so later he tried harder and succeeded, but it apparently took MANY pills and much alcohol. Maybe I have too much faith in drugs being safe but I can't imagine Ambien is that strong that you could die from taking 3 or 4, and I can't imagine anyone would "accidentally" take more than that. I could see thinking maybe 2 would be safe but would never dream of taking more than that. Ok, actually, I could dream of it if it could make you stay asleep for more than 3 hours but wouldn't be willing to test it.

I do find it interesting that, as I said above, almost every woman I know has admitted to having sleep problems and, in almost every case, taking something to alleviate the problem. Apparently millions of people take Tylenol PM every single night, or the Tylenol-free version of it, which I guess amounts to, what, Benadryl? I always laugh when my British friend refers to them as her "tablets"--don't ask me why. It's a little scary to hear these women talk about the lengths they have to go to just to get a good night's sleep--usually the formula includes varying proportions of red wine and Tylenol PM, sometimes with some melatonin thrown in there to make it more holistic.

I personally am an ardent believer in Ambien but try to only use it if absolutely necessary. My dr. has lately become a little skittish about prescribing it because apparently people are doing all kinds of crazy stuff on it—eating through the entire refrigerator without knowing it and even driving places. I personally think it’s safe as long as you take it and go directly to sleep. If you take it and continue to go about your business waiting for it to kick in—well, that’s where you might run into trouble. I have never done anything like go anywhere or eat through house and home, but I have written stuff I have no recollection of writing, including, once, an entire short story. It definitely can enhance your writing skills, or at least it can mine. If you try it, though, make sure you’re not connected to the internet because you may end up sending emails you have no recollection of sending. Ditto for talking; apparently I’ve had 45 minute conversations with Patrick that I don’t remember the next day.

Anyway, sad about Heath.

I'm home sick today and somehow between yesterday and today I've gotten used to being home. Granted, I feel like crap so that could account for the fact that I'm fine just sitting here in silence doing nothing. Or actually, trying to write something for work that I've been procrastinating for seriously going on 6 full months now. Who would think writing an employee newsletter could be this excruciating? The delay hasn't been entirely my fault, as my boss has told me to put the newsletter aside like 10 times when other projects came in, but still...you'd think I could have worked it into my schedule somehow. I guess if I actually gave a shit it might not be such a chore; somehow writing about the picnic that took place in September just isn't keeping my interest--so I'm sure it probably won't attract anyone elses' interest when and if I ever finish the thing and put it out.

By the way, in case any of you have a particular hatred of Manhattan, you might want to head to the movies. There are now two movies out that feature the total annihilation of the island of Manhattan: I Am Legend and Cloverfield. We saw I Am Legend a month or so ago and it was awesome, although depressing. If you are freaked out by zombies and/or can't deal with sad dog stories you definitely need to skip it; it has plenty of both. Will Smith rocked as always and overall I think we gave it an 8.

Cloverfield--I'm still not sure what I thought of it. As I told Patrick when we left the theater, I give the movie about a 7 but the fun of watching it about a 9. Sitting here now, 4 days later, I realize that it gets about a 0 as far as takeaway value; its entire appeal is the actual experience of watching it. If nothing else it makes you feel old.

Holiday

I can't imagine what I'd do all day if I didn't work. Just this one day is boring and that's with the kids. Then again, maybe that's why the day sucked ;) Just kidding.

But seriously---I used to be home all day, every day and can't remember what I did to pass the time. Actually, now that I think of it, I pretty much felt this way every day back then--but it never occurred to me that maybe I should have gone back to work. Oh well, live and learn....and it's not like work doesn't suck in its own way much of the time too.

The main saving grace about work--aside from the paycheck, of course--is that at least there's stuff going on to make the time pass more quickly than it does if your days are limited to gym trips, Target runs and....actually, that pretty much summed up time when I was home with my kids. Unless you count the part I'm not mentioning, that is, but that's another story for another time and place. At least for me that's how it felt--no offense to women who are home and love it. I wouldn't mind having an hour or two to spend at the gym every day like I used to way back in the day, but not if it meant going back to that way of life.

I'm currently trying to decide which is the lesser of two evils: a job that's busy, challenging and therefore sometimes stressful or a job that's so S-L-O-W and non-taxing that it's ostensibly stress-free. My current job is the latter--occasionally I have something interesting going on but for the most part I'm in kind of a too many cooks in the kitchen situation; e.g. I was hired to do a job (writing) but it turns out that they really didn't need--or want--someone else to share the writing assignments so I've been pretty much left out in the cold with regard to the job I was hired to do. Maybe I shouldn't complain...but of course if you know me you know I do--incessantly.

Every place I've ever worked before I was seen as this essential person, totally competent, everyone praising me and telling me how smart and great I was. I never worked in a company as large as the one I work for now, which, I'm coming to realize, makes a big difference in terms of individual attention and recognition. Now I get some occasional scrap of praise, but for the most part as long as I show up to work every day nobody really cares if I do anything at all--and when I do actually do stuff, most often it goes unnoticed. I admit that lately I've been testing it more and more, trying to see exactly how little work I can do and still get by without reprimand. So far it's turning out that it actually possible to put forth about 5% effort without any ill effects. Translation: my productivity has basically come to a screeching halt and nobody has noticed or commented. Lately I liken my job to Homer Simpsons'--show up to work, sit in a chair all day, go home, then repeat again the next day. Minus the doughnuts, though.

Meanwhile, there's Patrick with a huge job with tons of responsibility and I sort of envy him....I think. There I am at my desk all day, listening to the lightbulbs hum, blogging or what have you while Patrick is negotiating multi-million dollar contracts, putting out constant fires and spending about half his work life in meetings. Yes, he's stressed...but he also makes more than twice as much as I make and very, very rarely has to work evenings or weekends. He does have to put up with a million problems, which I definitely don't envy, and also has to supervise people, which is something I never want to have to worry about.

Anyway, long story short...I don't know if I should just be grateful to have the quintessential government job or if the fact that my job has become numbingly boring means I could do with a little more work even if it meant more stress.

If you already saw this in my sister Cassie's blog no need to read it here, but if you didn't, you need to!

The 25 Most Baffling Toys From Around the World

Make sure to click "next" at the bottom of the first page.

Check your credit report regularly

Patrick and I are refinancing our house. Last week we met with the mortgage guy, who, as part of the application process, printed out a copy of our combined credit report. Lucky for us he did, because otherwise we probably never would have known to scan the entire 15 page document to find one tiny section titled "Inquiry Information." He pointed it out, asking if either of us had applied for a Capitol One credit card on December 26, because Capitol One had inquired with each of the three credit bureaus that day.

He was able to discern that the inquiry had been on my behalf--he could tell because of the initials "CU" after the inquiry; apparently that means "co" something with regard to the loan we're taking. If you ever look at a joint credit report apparently "BU" indicates the primary borrower and "CU" indicates the co-borrower. Just a little identity theft sleuthing tip from me to you.

Anyway, our lender recommended that I call Capitol One to see what the inquiry had been about. Naturally I figured it was nothing, although I knew for sure that I had spent December 26 preping for my colonoscopy the following day and definitely was not trying to open credit card accounts. After a few days of "reminders" from Patrick, I called Capitol One tonight and learned that yes, someone had tried to secure a credit card using my social security number. F*cker.

Patrick will probably have a coronary because his mortal fear is identity theft. He shreds anything with his name and address on it and won't even print our address on our checks. Luckily he's at baseball practice now so he won't have to learn about my brush with identity theft until tomorrow....or sometime.

The good news is that now that I know about that inquiry nobody can mess with my credit. When something like this happens you contact any of the credit bureaus (I called Equifax) and they add a fraud alert notice to your credit report and also notify the other two credit bureaus to do the same. This means that for 90 days nobody can make a move on my credit without me being alerted, and also that I can request an additional free credit report from each credit bureau (everyone is entitled to one free credit report per year from each of the three credit bureaus.)

If you have a police report proving you are a victim of identity theft you can have the credit bureau put an extended fraud alert on your credit history--that one lasts for 7 years. The good thing about that one is, in addition to the fact that nobody can mess with your credit for 7 years, you get an additional 2 free credit reports and your name is removed from prescreened offers of credit or insurance for 5 years. I guess you need to get something out of the deal for having to wade through all this b.s. because someone thought it would be fun and profitable to secure credit in your name.

Anyway, I need to go research how to file the police report, etc...in case you want to do some reading of your own you too can check out the FTC's website about identity theft.

If eye talk freaks you out then skip this post

(and mom, you definitely need to skip it!)

Last Friday I went to get fitted for contacts and spent a dreamy 30 or more minutes roaming the aisles of the grocery store, amazed I could, at long last, clearly see all the way across the store without glasses. I have spent the last 4 years battling glasses--stubbornly thinking that if I didn't give in and put them on for stuff like grocery shopping or movie-watching my eyes would eventually adjust and I'd be able to see perfectly. I can see fine close up and even not so close, but for distances like across a room or a store or whatever I could see but just not clearly enough to make out signs or faces without squinting. I think my vision is about 20/40, which is definitely a functional level of sight, especially when it's bright out or a space is well-lit, but in twilight or darkness, distance vision isn't a picnic.

So now I can see more clearly than I've been able to see for 4 years...ever since I got lasik.

Don't get me wrong--even though I had complications with lasik (DLK and epithelial ingrowth) I think I would do it again. Before lasik I couldn't see my glasses on the nightstand by the bed, couldn't read a book without glasses or contacts--basically couldn't see much at all. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that if I were somewhere and my contact fell out or my glasses broke I'd be up a creek. At least now I could definitely function perfectly well without glasses or contacts if I had to.

But it is still disappointing to have gone through the whole ordeal only to, in the end, be back in contacts. It's not like I went to some low-budget place or anything, either--I went to one of the top eye doctors in the DC area, Neil Martin. Of course I knew there were risks but you never think they'll happen to you, right?

The procedure itself wasn't bad at all, thanks, in part, to good ol' valium. I sat up afterwards and it was a miracle--I could see the clock across the room. I thought I was fine and thought the white fog that covered my field of vision was just part of the normal healing process. The next day at my follow up appointment I learned that it wasn't in fact normal; I had DLK (see above). I had to use special eye drops every 2 hours around the clock for a week--that, in addition to the saline drops I had to use almost constantly because my eyes were dry as prunes.

I went back a week later and the DLK was still there--so I had to use even more drops and go on oral steroids. A few days later the fog seemed to lift some but was replaced with the tiniest hint of a weird sensation. Turns out that sensation was cells growing under the flap--epithelial ingrowth.

I had to have my flaps re-lifted and scraped to remove the cells (see link to epithelial ingrowth page above). It was the most disgusting feeling in the world--imagine the dentist scraping the plaque off your teeth, then apply that same sensation to your eyes. More rounds of drops, etc...finally my eyes were fine and I could see almost perfectly.

Post-lasik vision is a little weird even without complications--something about the contrast of stuff is kind of off so it's harder to see in low light, or to distinguish different shades of green, say, when you're gardening or shades of gray when it's dim and rainy out. I do see the halos around lights, but I think I always must have because it doesn't bother me. The worst part of the lasik aftermath saga was the dry eyes; to this day they're still very dry. They were dry to begin with, which predisposes you to complications from lasik, but Dr. Martin thought I'd be fine. Lately the dryness had gotten much better, but for most of the past 4 years my eyes were dry, dry, dry. I did everything from daily hot compresses, oral antibiotics (to treat blepharitis, which who knows if I even had but they threw every possible fix at me), and all manner of drops and ointments to punctal plugs (tiny plugs they put in your tear ducts to preserve whatever tears you have). I have learned that the remedies for severe dry eyes are not that effective, which doesn't bode well for people with serious, chronic dry eyes. I am lucky that mine pretty much resolved on their own, even though it took over 3 years.

to the tune of needing to use eye drops with mineral oil in them and/or gross Vaseline-like stuff in them at night

Even after all that I hoped that they could do one last "enhancement" to bring my vision to 20/20 but--shocker--they said I wasn't a good candidate for another lasik procedure. I could have gone on to have PRK but that sounded too gross and painful for even me.

So here I am, back to contacts--but glad to have 20/20 non-glasses vision at long last.

Potty Inspiration

Check out the creative and musical talents of my sister, Cassie!



Of course I can't resist includingthis informative Japanese potty song.

As if we weren't all sick enough of the soccer saga, guess what the subject of my latest On Balance guest blog was? I swear I wrote it back in November and am not still obsessing on it! Who knew that me droning on about one soccer game would turn into this much hubbub?

As usual I was half horrified and half amused at the hostility of some of the commenters. Actually now it's more like 10% horrified and 90% amused because it's funny to me to see how irate some people get over the musings of a slacker--um, I mean soccer--mom. Every day these same people are on that On Balance comment forum, poised like piranha, ready to devour whatever morsel of thought happens to be featured in that day's post and spew back a tirade of how stupid the author or topic is.

I have to wonder what it would be like if everyone had their photo next to their "screen name," or even if they had to use their real names; would they still be as aggressive as they are in their safe anonymity? I picture some of those people like Oz, hiding behind their lawyer desks or whatever, and imagine how they'd look if they were suddenly visible.

Food Love

In case you need three more examples of how redonk all things Asian are:

What's the bad karma quotient on this?

I saw this headline: "Mom Lies for Hannah Tix" on MSN when I opened my browser just now. A few months ago I toyed with the idea of taking Mimi to the Miley Sirus (or is it Hannah Montana?) concert but was saved by the fact that it sold out in like 20 seconds. I personally breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to face many of my most dreaded things at once: huge pressing crowds, millions of screaming little girls, loud teenage girl music, standing for an entire concert, and hellish concert parking lot traffic.

Apparently this mom didn't share my same relief at not being able to get tickets because she was willing to do whatever it took to get them for her daughter--even when it took making up a story about how the girl's dad died in Iraq.

Words fail me. Except to say I think this woman is a disgusting pig.

Ok, I HATE Augusten's mother--it appears that she has disowned him, judging by the links page on her website. There's the link to her other son's book right a the top...but no mention of her other son. Nice.

I guess she couldn't take that he has become what she herself always thought she'd be: a famous writer.

Shocker that he had such a screwed up childhood.

Augusten's new book is coming soon!

In the meantime I guess I will have to relent and buy his brother's book because I never see it at the library.

Ok, hold up--I was just googling "Augusten Burroughs' brother" to put the link to his book in here and, via another site, found Augusten's MOTHER'S blog. Crazy. Now I have to go read everything on it.

By the way, who cares whether or not every word in Running With Scissors was totally fabricated by Augusten? A book is a book.

We saw Juno last night and I had mixed feelings about it. At first I was thinking I love this movie! Then the girl's personality started to annoy me--it seemed so forced and just too much. Yes, she was cute and unique and cool...but after a while it just felt like the whole movie was screaming "LOOK HOW EDGY THIS MOVIE AND THESE CHARACTERS ARE! LOOK HOW HIP AND QUIRKY AND WITTY AND SARCASTIC AND SMART AND SUBVERSIVE THIS GIRL IS! LISTEN TO HOW COOL THIS MUSIC IS! CHECK OUT THIS RAD CINEMATOGRAPHY AND THESE CARTOON-ISH EFFECTS!" It just got to be system overload for me after a while. Ok, ok already--I get it--the film is offbeat and artsy.

The feel of the whole thing became very Napolean Dynamite on speed after a point-- that point probably being when the Napolean Dynamite clone made his appearance in Science class.

Then there was the spooky aspect of the Mallory's brother/horse-faced Jennifer Garner couple. WTF was up with Jennifer Garner's character? Fist of all, she looked nothing like she used to--how did she go from kicking ass in Alias to looking like a Talbot's-clad spinster in a few years? Ok, yes, maybe it was just her character but it freaked me out and distracted me.

As much as I disliked her character, the husband creeped me out the most. How did that "young at heart" (said with a smirk) guy end up in a McMansion in the burbs with dry old Jennifer Garner in the first place? Had he started off as a yuppie but, upon meeting Juno, suddenly morphed back to his rock n' roll former self?

That big brother/pedophile dynamic was very disturbing to me. The first time Juno showed up at their house unannounced and started hanging around with him, swapping guitar stories and cd mixes, it made me uncomfortable. Then when she showed up the second time and they started slow dancing it became downright stomach-turning.

At any rate, I have to say that by the end of the movie I liked it a lot less than I did when it started.

It's a little late to be sharing this holiday drink recipe but you can always file it away for next Christmas:

Candy Cane Martini

Mix the vodka and Peppermint Schnapps with ice in a shaker, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Pour it back into the shaker and dip the rim into a plate of crushed candy canes to create a minty rim. Next, pour the mixture back into the glass for a classy Christmas cocktail. If you have those mini candy canes, you can hook one over the rim instead.

If you like chocolate you could use the recipe for chocolate martinis (readily available via Google) and dip the rim into the crushed candy canes.

Or, if you're feeling, um, sluggish, you could try the drink I invented; I like to call it the Loose Goose:

Diet Pepsi (or Coke, if that's how you roll)
Gray Goose Le Citron vodka (or another brand, but then you can't technically call it "Goose")
Miralax

Stir and enjoy. If you suffer from "chronic ideopathic constipation" like I apparently do, according to the colonoscopy I had last week, you can augment the drink with a few fiber pills. Of course, if you do suffer from it, this drink will do nothing, but maybe it will have a cumulative effect if you have one every evening. Or that's what I tell myself.

Resolutions

In the spirit of New Year's resolutions, here is a great article by Michelle Singletary, one of my favorite financial columnists for The Washington Post, about getting your finances together in the new year.

If your finances are already in perfect order--or if the mere thought of taking stock of your money in the wake of the holiday spending spree gives you heart palpitations--maybe this article, recommended by my trippy new age friend at work, is more up your alley: (copied from this "alternative solutions" newsletter)

Forget New Year’s Resolutions: You Need a Vision and a Recipe for Success
By Norma Reid

The concept of “New Year’s Resolutions” seems like a tired cliché…and it is when you think of the millions of people who make resolutions for the new year and then forget about them weeks or even days later. What you really need is a vision that allows you to grow into the person you want to be and an action plan to make it happen.

By following the common sense strategy outlined below, you will be empowered to achieve your goals, realize your dreams, and celebrate your successes.

1. Choose a theme for the year, such as this is the year of courage, or follow through, or love, and set your intentions and decisions for the new year based on your theme. For example, if you decided this is the year of courage, you would ask yourself, “What would a courageous person do” before making a decision. One of your intentions might be to take a step of courage each day.

2. Get clear on what you want. How will achieving this goal or realizing this dream improve your life? Why do you want to make this change? Write the reasons down, so if you begin to falter you can read and remember. How committed are you to achieving it? If the commitment level is low, you may want to choose something different.

3. Once you decide on your goal, close your eyes and imagine it is a year from now. You have accomplished what you set out to do. How do you feel? How has your life changed? How and where are you celebrating? Now write down your vision of experiencing success. Make it something like, “It is December 31, 2008 and I am so happy and grateful that I decided to make this year the year of courage. I accomplished all I set out for myself. I made those phone calls that enhanced my business, I joined that dance class and loved it, I made some great new friends, I grew in so many ways … It has been an incredible year.”

3. Set up a system to keep your vision uppermost in your mind. One effective system is creating a success journal. Write your vision at the front. Too often people don’t achieve their goals because they forget about them! Use your success journal as a daily reminder.

4. Next, look at the barriers that could get in your way and set up strategies to overcome them. Remember your self-talk -- identify what you tell yourself that could sabotage your success and create replacement thoughts instead. Determine the types of support that will empower you along the way -- a buddy, book, course, coach, or something else. Now put them in place.

5. Create an action plan to achieve your resolutions. Take what you want to accomplish in the year and break it down into 3-month plans. From that create monthly, weekly and daily plans.

6. Each morning grab your success journal, read your vision statement with feeling and write down what step(s) you will take that day. Then each evening write down all the steps you took. Besides being a great reminder and motivator of what you are doing and why, it’s also a way to celebrate your daily accomplishments.

7. If you get off track for a while, don’t beat yourself up, simply course correct and continue.

The reasons we have goals and dreams are to grow as people and enjoy the journey to a more fulfilling life… the life of our dreams.

Whatever your resolutions may be, I hope everyone has a happy, healthy and prosperous 2008.

I forgot to add that we really wished that Cassie and her family could have been here for Christmas; hopefully next year.

Geez it's been a long time since I've written in here--especially if you count the fact that my last few posts weren't anything I actually wrote. I think the creative spirit has left me for the winter--I keep drawing a total blank whenever I think about writing something.

Did I mention I hate winter? I must have thin blood or something because I can't STAND being cold and am cold all the time in the winter. Forget going outside basically ever, which I'm sure doesn't do anything for the flat feeling that starts in about October and lasts pretty much until daylight savings time is over (or does it start in the Spring?)

Total sidebar--I don't understand why it is grammatically correct to end a sentence with the punctuation inside a parenthesis. It just seems wrong to me.

Anyway, I hate winter and pretty much also hate Christmas. Granted, the actual DAY of Christmas was fun--we had two extra kids this year, Patrick's neice and nephew (or, as the niece lamented to Mimi at Hebrew school "You're so lucky to have Patrick as a step-dad--he used to be my uncle"); apparently she thinks that because he's no longer married to her blood aunt he's not her uncle anymore, which couldn't be further from the truth. (and, illustrating my point about the parenthesis, was that semi-colon supposed to be inside the parenthesis or not?)

(I do understand, however, that when a whole sentence is inside parenthesis it makes sense to also have the end punctuation inside.)

Sorry...so anyway, we had the four kids and Patrick's "ex" brother- and sister-in-law, who, again, are still as close to him as ever despite his divorce. It was an interesting dynamic because both my kids and the niece and nephew are Jewish; the niece and nephew have traditionally stayed at Patrick's house on Christmas Eve so Santa can consider them temporary Christians worthy of receiving gifts. They totally believe in Santa so I had to put the fear of god into my jaded kids not to spoil it for them by letting on that Santa is not, in fact, real. The kids spent the evening of the 24th glued to the computer monitoring the "Santa tracker" to keep tabs on where he was in relation to our house.

Christmas morning was a jumble of a million presents--it took a full hour for us all to open the ridiculous number of gifts under the tree--and a fun breakfast with the sort of in-laws. Then they left and it was time for the grand finale gift for our kids. This concept was totally initiated by Patrick, as I am usually too pragmatic to give into the big ticket item as gift for children; left to my own devices I would never have gotten an iPod for a 12 year old. But Patrick wanted to get them something special so I relented and we got Mimi and iPod (is that how you spell it?) and Matthew a PSP. We did a treasure hunt (again, Patrick's idea but it was really fun) with clues first directing them to an iTunes gift card for Mimi and PSP games for Matthew, then instructing them to open the gifts and check under the Christmas tree for the actual gift that went with the card and the games.

They found the first gifts and had to report back to the living room to open them. Matthew opened his first and literally SCREAMED "I GOT A PSP!!!!" jumping up and down. Then Mimi opened her gift card, assuming it was from a store, and when she saw it was for iTunes, even unflappable she started hyperventilating. Then they went and got the "real" gifts and Matthew opened his first with another SCREAM, this time "HOLY CRAP!!!" (yes, bad mom points for me for not taking the thing away from him and punishing him for swearing; hey, he could have said "holy sh*t" and didn't.) Mimi opened hers and was, by Mimi standards (e.g. the excitability of Wednesday Adams), estatic.

In case my description didn't accurately convey Matthew's excitement, maybe this will:


I just realized your eyes are probably bleeding from reading this much; I'll leave you with a few pictures of my Christmas decor:

Augusten's assistant needs a favor

And I know you want to further the bond between me and Augusten by obliging Stewart (his assistant); see his email below:

hi everyone-
i know i sent you an email regarding my novel, and don't worry, you will not be getting bombarded forever...i just have a feeling, since you love augusten's work, that you may be willing to help out an underdog....i am a singer as well, and i have a chance to open for dave mathews band next year...
and i am trying to get everyone (and their mother) to vote for me...it's a long shot but a boy can dream--augusten sure did and look where he is now.
all you have to do is:

Click Here

and put stewart lewis as your first choice. it will take less than a minute of your time and could mean the world to little ole me. and if you REALLY want to help me, forward to your friends and ask them to vote too, and then i'll sign your butt, teach you to read, and clean your house.

if you are annoyed by this plea for help, i am SO sorry. i know you wrote an email to augusten and are not expected to help out his humble assistant. have a wonderful holiday.

So go vote for him and keep the karma flowing between me and Augusten...and also because Stewart's book was so hilarious (see #2).

If this kid were available for adoption I'd take him!!



Actually--Cassie, am I imagining it or does he kind of look like Nina in a way? I swear something about him reminds me of her.

This is classic! A 1st grade teacher (allegedly) had twenty-six students in her class. She presented each child in her classroom the 1st half of a well-known proverb and asked them to come up with the remainder of the proverb.

While reading this, keep in mind that these are 6-year-olds!

1. Don't change horses...until they stop running.
2. Strike while the...bug is close.
3. It's always darkest before...Daylight Saving Time.
4. Never underestimate the power of...termites.
5. You can lead a horse to water but...How?
6. Don't bite the hand that...looks dirty.
7. No news is...impossible
8. A miss is as good as a...Mr.
9. You can't teach an old dog new...Math
10. If you lie down with dogs, you'll...stink in the morning.
11. Love all, trust...Me.
12. The pen is mightier than the...pigs.
13. An idle mind is...the best way to relax.
14. Where there's smoke there's...pollution.
15. Happy the bride who...gets all the presents.
16. A penny saved is...not much.
17. Two's company, three's...the Musketeers.
18. Don't put off till tomorrow what...you put on to go to bed.
19. Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and...You have to blow your nose.
20. There are none so blind as...Stevie Wonder.
21. Children should be seen and not...spanked or grounded.
22. If at first you don't succeed...get new batteries.
23. You get out of something only what you...See in the picture on the box
24. When the blind lead the blind...get out of the way.
25. A bird in the hand...is going to poop on you.

And the best and last one!

26. Better late than...Pregnant

What does Motherwhatnow mean anyway?

You might have wondered what Motherwhatnow means and why is this the redux version.

(or maybe not; in that case, skip this post)

Here's a hint: google upsy downsy mother what now.

How's that for lazy? It was requiring too much effort and time to write about it.

And redux is because I used to be a blogger on a now-defunct site called Mom & Pop Blog and that blog was called motherwhatnow.

Ok, this is boring even me at this point so I know it's boring everyone else and swear this will be the last mention of this, but here is the response the OBGC Executive Director felt she needed to warn me about.

I am now officially sick of and done with the issue! And hoping my kids don't want to play soccer in the spring....

DAMN--I must have touched a nerve because this chick is PISSED at me! Obviously she is not aware of the never type and send an email when you're mad rule. This lady definitely doth protest too much. The huge red paragraphs below--they're her response to me and yes she did send the email exactly like this--e.g. RED AND ANGRY.

Maggie,
Thank you for responding to my e-mail. I wanted to comment on specific parts of your latest e-mail so you will hopefully have a better understanding of how this issue has impacted the organization.


Maggie: My apologies if it seemed like I was intentionally trying to avoid communicating directly with OBGC--that wasn't my point. I appreciate your apology to me, however, your actions from the beginning in not responding to our Chairman or myself over the past few weeks and you sending an unfair and inaccurate letter to the Gazette without trying to have an open dialogue has created a much different impression in our community of volunteers. Dan had no idea that you were sending a critical email to the Gazette, however, he extended an open hand to an upset parent within hours of receiving your e-mail. He took a lot of time out of his work schedule to get back to you right away, and does so anytime a parent has such important feedback or concerns. Soccer leaders were already responding to this issue before you raised it, as was Dan, and the safeguards we have in place were working. There was no need for a letter like yours to be sent to the Gazette, if your true intention was to help the club.

The "view of OBGC games" that the headline of the "open forum" referred to was mine. You witnessed bad behavior at one game and you use that as an example of a false epidemic in a great organization. Outbursts like what happened at your game rarely happen and OBGC does things every season to help prevent it. You inaccurately commented on the Code of Conduct and how we enforce it. You are not aware of the great lengths this organization, its volunteers and staff go through to provide a great physical and emotional environment for our children to play. Despite our greatest efforts there will be occasional problems, but as a percentage of how big this club is, its is a tiny fraction. Your public comments lead thousands of people who don't know OBGC to have a bad and unfair impression of it because of your sweeping generalizations. Now, you don't even file a complaint after all. It makes us wonder if your intent to help the children of our club was pure; we'd like to believe you would never intentionally publicly embarrass the volunteers of this club as you did by offering a blanket statement that was not accurate.

I would think that OBGC would welcome the opportunity to clarify the complaint process and explain why its emphasis seems to be more on protecting parents than it does on ensuring that violations are investigated. Speaking in these terms to us seems to typify your approach to this entire matter. "I think OBGC would welcome an opportunity" implies we aren't already one of the most open nonprofit organizations there is. We survey our parents each season and ask candid questions about every aspect of the Club. Parents have filed complaints and grievances for years and no one has ever had problems contacting us or has even sent an email needing additional clarification. Maryland Nonprofit's Standards for Excellence thoroughly reviewed all our policies, including our survey methods and grievance procedure, and awarded OBGC the Seal of Excellence.

It seems as though you are now attempting to backtrack by taking an unfair and inaccurate public comment you made and are trying to change it into something different. It appears you want to change your position from being someone that sent public criticism of OBGC and its parents to the Gazette that wasn't based on fact, and shift the focus to your new argument that this is an issue of us having an unclear grievance process. Your tone and tactics in the last letter are not friendly and do not go unnoticed by many. You imply that OBGC has not been open or doesn't have a clear enough process so you were forced into sending a letter to the Gazette vs. to communicating directly with us. It appears you were trying to justify your actions with the first letter by making it into a new issue. The only thing that will solve this issue for OBGC and our volunteers is not that you provide a private apology, but rather a complete public apology and clarification of our actions, facts and process that followed.

I am honestly not trying to start a fight or anything or be confrontational, but to me, a reality of being a public organization is being subject to public comment. I appreciate that you do not wish to appear confrontational and this is in no way a fight for OBGC. No matter what a parent's true intent is or how they decide to approach life, we are open to them unless it becomes destructive. The experience on this board goes back as far as 18 years and has dealt with all types of parents and have learned that actions and intent are the true marks of what a person is trying to accomplish. We are well aware of the public nature of our organization and have not been afraid of public comment since our founding in 1969. As a citizen that has exposed that yourself to public comment and response because of the actions you took in sending the letter, you hopefully understand that we cannot control how others may respond to you. You sending letters to the Gazette, while avoiding direct communication with us, has lead many to believe differently from what you explain above.

I am the first to admit that the issue is a sticky one for many reasons and don't claim to have the answers at all; I'm sure that there is no easy or perfect answer. I don't believe you are aware of what goes into trying to solve an issue as you explain. Your public comments were not balanced and never referenced you thinking there might not be a perfect answer. Again, your public comments and actions simplify complicated issues involving kids and they unfairly damage the reputation of OBGC.

Again, I apologize if my public comments have upset you and the other officials at OBGC--it was not my intent. I know that many parents have strong feelings on the matter--both agreeing with me and disagreeing with me-- and I think a public dialog is not necessarily a bad thing, if for no other reason than to make parents more aware of their behavior at games. True, parents need to be aware of their behavior, but inaccurate and unfair public comments and generalizations do not help any organization make progress; they actually stop progress and damage our ability to do more for children. If you want to apologize, please do it publicly.

We are happy to have finally established a direct line of communication with you, however, as was mentioned last week, we were forced to publicly respond to your most recent letter. We hope going forward that we can continue this personal dialogue to clarify any questions you may.(sic)

Um, why am I supposed to apologize for how me expressing an opinion has impacted the organization? Do I care?

I know my mom is reading this and just cringing and waiting to lecture me on not stirring up trouble. lol

You know I couldn't just leave the issue alone, so I responded to the comments in the "open forum" for people talking about my "view" of OBGC games. They ran it in last week's Gazette.

This time I received an email from the executive director of OBGC in response. Tell me if this letter reads like somewhat of a threat or am I just paranoid?

Hello Maggie,

It was nice meeting you at Sonya's Silpada Party last night. She is a good friend and from what I understood, you are a new member of the neighborhood - congratulations. I believe we may have also met at Beth Sterling's Triathlon party several months ago.

We have been concerned about not hearing back from you after our Chairman attempted to communicate with you directly regarding issues you raised in an email sent to the club, while at the same time it was being sent to the Gazette. It would be helpful to better understand your intent of not responding to us directly and only communicating in a public forum. I wanted to be fair and let you know that given the new public letter you sent to the Gazette, we will need to respond. As many members have commented, it is again unfortunate that an organization that takes great pride in its children's programs and activities, is subject to public comment without being able to open a simple line of communication with the complainant.

In addition to the "Contact Us" information listed on our web site, I wanted to again send you my direct e-mail address and phone number, so you can formally share your concerns. Please do not hesitate to continue to share you thoughts and concerns and we are happy to speak with you directly so I can help clarify any misunderstandings in the future.

Thanks,

Elisabeth Deal
Executive Director

Which part of this doesn't she understand that this isn't about me making a complaint to OBGC; it's making a point about their code of conduct? Isn't it a given that if you're a big organization you will be subject to public comment?

It's not that I even care about the issue that much; I just couldn't help pointing out how their policy doesn't exactly encourage people to file complaints.

And--yikes--how do you like the "just wanted to let you know we will need to respond" part--is it just me or does that smack of a scenario where I pick up the phone and someone, in a garbled voice, says "I'm warning you--you better just leave it alone and stop the public comments or else."?

Hey, it's a free country. And now that the woman at my kids' school who embezzled $30,000 is in jail and the big neighborhood adultery scandal that dominated the gossip mill all summer has gotten old, people need something else to gossip about.

Yesterday we saw This Christmas and it was as awesome the previews had promised. For whatever reason I am obsessed with movies about black families. I think it started with Soul Food. Something about the combination of the kitchen scenes, the emotional family dynamics, the gorgeous actresses and actors and the music just makes movies about white families seems so...well, white.

These are some of the common elements that make movies about black families so awesome:

1) The house: the setting for a lot of these movies is often a beautiful, comfortable house. More often than not, it's "mama's house." Most of the social activity in the houses usually takes place in the kitchen. Some of the kitchens are totally deluxe--for instance, the one in This Christmas--while others are dated or sort of austere, yet the ambience is always the same--warm and comforting and fun.

2) The actors and actresses: on one hand, it seems a little....something?....that most movies about black families seem to feature the same extremely attractive actors and actresses (I guess the term "actresses" is now defunct but I'm using it anyway). The characters are usually extremely successful--business men or women, lawyers, doctors etc--which seemed a little stereotypical to me (e.g. only focusing on that one subset of the population) until I realized that white movies pretty much feature the same handful of attractive actors and actresses, but the white versions.

Actually, I can't really make this generalization; for every five or so buppie characters there are usually at least one or two who are troubled in some way--police issues, drugs, etc. But that's another good theme in these movies--almost always the character faces those challenges and betters him or herself.

3) The strong female characters: Female black characters are almost always portrayed in a really strong, positive way, which I love. Whether it's Stella getting her groove back, or a woman who starts as a nobody making it big on her own terms or an abused or cheated-on woman getting even with the man--the women in most movies featuring predominantly black characters are almost always awesome.

There is also a recurring theme of a heavy woman accepting herself and being considered beautiful regardless of her size; show me one movie where a white woman is celebrated for her larger size. Everyone makes a huge deal if a white actress gains 20 pounds for a role--how brave of her!--but of course after the film wraps she's back to being anorexic in no time and all the magazines make a huge deal about what an accomplishment it was to lose all that weight. Where is the white version of Phat Girls? Shallow Hal? Bridget Jones? Please. You know white guys leave that movie cringing at the thought of accepting a fatty, whereas you leave a black movie where the actress is accepted regardless of her weight and it actually rings true and is inspiring.

4) Humor: I'm sorry but black movies are just funny--most of the characters have a ton of personality and are hilarious. Not surprising given that many of them are comedians as well as actors.

5) Music: No white movie has music as good as the music in black movies. Period. Drumline comes to mind off the top of my head--tell me that movie isn't incredible. This Christmas, for another example--you can't not cry when he's singing to his mom in church. Or at least I can't.

6) Dancing: No explanation necessary. Go see Stomp the Yard if you don't know what I'm talking about. The only kinds of white movies that come close are the ones about ballet dancers, and even those aren't THAT impressive given that no matter how much the actors practice their moves, none of them are actually professional dancers. Go see This Christmas for a perfect example of what I'm talking about--how many white families just break it down right in the living room? And if they did, a) how drunk would they have to be and b) how much would they suck?

Go rent Meet the Parents, for example, or Wedding Crashers or some other movie where a white family sits down to a meal together. Then rent Soul Food and go see This Christmas and you'll know what I'm talking about. Which table/house/after dinner party would you rather be at?

Not to be a downer, but I will be doing this Sunday night in memory of my friend's daugher Hannah who was killed five years ago at Christmastime. I can't even imagine the pain of losing a child and I will be lighting my candle not only in memory of Hannah but in thanks for my own healthy kids.

Worldwide Candlelighting Service, 7 pm your local time.

Just a few quick things:

1) I was floored yesterday when I went to do my Christmas shopping online--everything was sold out! WTF? Here I am thinking that I don't have to set foot into an actual store and can get everything on my list online, only to find out that as of December 2 every single thing I was looking for was sold out. And not just on Target, but also Kohls, JC Penny, and I forget what else. I was looking for a pair of flannel pajamas for an 11 year-old, for chrissake! Not even a week ago I had the light blue with clouds flannel pajamas from Target in my shopping cart, but as of yesterday they were not available. Nor were the other gifts I was looking for. So we went to Walmart yesterday and I bought almost every single gift there. I HIGHLY recommend Walmart!!! They have awesome, cheap gift baskets that look like they cost WAY more, really cute kids' clothes for cheap, good stocking stuff, toys, etc, etc.

2) I forgot to ever say that I read Augusten Burroughs's assistant, Stewart Lewis's, book Rockstarlet. I definitely recommend it--and not just because he's Augusten's assistant. The only bad thing about it was that it was so good that it reminded me about the fun gay friends that don't exist in Olney, MD. Hey, a gay couple moved in on Wisteria Lane so maybe soon one will move to my neighborhood.

3) I haven't read this book yet but it was recommended by one of my favorite financial columnists in The Washington Post,Michelle Singletary.

4) I defy you to find a better Engrish sign than this.

Wow--long time no post here. Every time I have something worthy of saying I never get a chance to post it then it's forgotten.

Remember my sport parents rant? I never really thought twice about it, other than to make a mental note to watch what I spout off about when I think I'm just posting a comment on a website. Last weekend some friends came over and the wife mentioned how my letter had caused quite a stir, prompting OBGC (the local sports club) to solicit feedback from other parents. I went to The Gazette website and did a search for "OBGC" and found the letter from the executive director of OBGC responding to "an email from Maggie McGary," as well as an "open forum" for parents to react to my view of OBGC games.

I swear--who knew when you speak up about something people get so fired up? Here I am, thinking I'm just typing away into cyberspace; meanwhile the parents in Olney are probably plotting ways to extricate me from the community. Hopefully my status as Mrs. Olney (ok, by association if not by actual skill--and yes you have to have mad skills to be crowned Mr. or Mrs. Olney) will protect me from the angry masses.

Naturally I had to respond; I'll be interested to see if they run it in this week's edition.

Anyway, that's about it as far as life in the big city goes these days.

JC Penny circa 1977

I will actually write something one of these days but this is so hilarious that it would trump anything I have to say.

This ran in The Montgomery County Gazette, a local newspaper, yesterday.

I submitted this to the Post but it never ran...may as well dust it off and use it here.

Babysitters. Nannies. Childcare providers. Or, if you’re lucky, grandma. Whatever term any of us chooses to use, one thing is certain: without them, the issue of work/family balance would be dead in the water. An understanding boss, the ability to telecommute, a flexible schedule—for most of us, no matter how ideal an arrangement we have, we are, at least to some degree, dependant on some form of childcare if we’re going to be able to be working parents. Even for those who don’t work outside the home, a reliable babysitter is worth his or her weight in gold.

This issue recently reared its head at girls’ night at a friend’s house. Even though it was Friday night and the sangria was flowing, somehow the conversation steered to babysitters. A woman I’d never met before mentioned, in passing, her babysitter, whose name I recognized. I said that I have a babysitter with the same name—let’s call her Mandy--and wondered if it was the same girl. Suddenly the light-hearted conversation screeched to a halt and she glared at me in sudden recognition and said, in so many words, “You’re the Maggie who stole my babysitter!”

Super long story short: this woman, who I’ll call woman #1, had started using Mandy when she was 14 and has been using her regularly for over 5 years. Woman #2, a friend of mine, had met Mandy when she picked up her son from woman #1’s house and asked Mandy whether she’d be willing to sit for her sometimes. They worked out a schedule and now Mandy was working for woman #1 and woman #2, as well as occasionally for woman #3, the hostess of this Friday night gathering. Last spring woman #2 recommended the girl to me and I, too, started using her sporadically.

At any rate, there was woman #1, suddenly lecturing me about how Mandy is a college student and is now so overworked because woman #2 “and others” are taking advantage of her, and also how now “her” sitter is never available because she’s spread so thin. She went on to say that when a family initially finds a babysitter who turns out to be reliable and good, that babysitter “belongs” to that family and other families are not allowed to “steal” him or her.

The whole thing half amused me and half disturbed me. I hadn’t realized there was apparently such a feeling of ownership when it came to babysitters. I couldn’t help but think “slavery”; in fact, I was curious about the parallel and Googled “stealing a slave from owner.”

In 1732, Virginia enacted a law stating that “wicked and evil-disposed persons…who steal any…slave …from the possession of the owner or overseer of such slave…shall suffer death without penalty of clergy.” Yikes. By 1732, the laws were a little more lax; a statute of Tennesee’s Laws on Slavery stipulated that any person found guilty [of] tempting an enslaved [person] to leave his owner's service… was to pay a fine of $62.50.” Ok, $62.50 or death—you choose; the fact is that those laws were applicable back when slavery was legal and accepted; these days it is neither.

Slave, babysitter—the fact that this woman kept referring to Mandy as “hers” made it clear that—at least in her case, but I suspect others feel the same--there is a sense of ownership when it comes to long-term, reliable caregivers. What do you think—is a childcare provider so necessary to the balance in your life that the idea of someone “stealing” him or her makes you indignant?

Soccer Rage

I just came from my daughter's soccer game--the championships. I sheepishly admit that soccer is generally her dad's territory; I take her to practices but usually skip the games. Yeah, bad mom--whatever. Going to this game made me remember why I never go.

So it's a beautiful, sunny fall day and the 6th grade girls are playing the last game of the season. Big soccer complex--the hub of the suburban community I live in--parents on the sidelines, girls presumably excited--as my friend Temperance would say, life in the big city. I guess this is the thing all the soccer parents live for, what makes the ridiculous amount of driving to endless activities and practices worth it.

I should have known it was a bad omen when, at the start of the game, my friend, the mom of one of Mimi's friends, sat down beside me and, when I turned to her and said "Hey--what's up," she stared intently at the field, skipped a beat, then said "Look, I'm not even going to make any bones about it--I'm not talking right now, I'm watching the game." Yikes.

The game started. I tried to be interested but frankly, watching soccer, to me, is like watching a movie with Japanese subtitles and trying to understand what's going on. I just don't get it. I suppose if my kids were more into it I would be too, but neither of them are into it in the slightest; their dad thinks it's a good idea for them to play a team sport so there they are, standing on the field, staring into space or, in Matthew's case at one game, doing handstands on the field throughout the whole thing. Each season I mean to put my foot down and say that we're not doing soccer because the kids don't even like it and it's a pain in the ass to get to all the practices and games, but I always end up relenting to keep the peace.

Anyway, fast forward--the game's going on and I'm still reeling from my friend's brush off and contemplating what it means about me as a mom that I couldn't care less about watching my kids' soccer games and I realize there's quite a stir going on around me. I could hear out of the corner of my ear the other parents shouting but had managed to tune it out, but as the game went on, I realized the shouts were not actually cheers but vein-popping screams.

"GODDAMNIT! STOP BEING STUPID AND PAY ATTENTION!!!!"

WTF? This from a dad a few seats away from me with a road-rage look on his face. He continued, veins bulging on his forehead, "TAYLOR, GET IN THERE!!!" "TAYLOR, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LOOK ALIVE!" Then his sidekick, presumably the girl's mother, echoed everything he yelled in an equally agressive tone. (Somehow it was easier to understand from the dad--he looked like he was probably a football star back in his day; the mom looked and sounded like one of Marj Simpson's sisters and would have probably died of a coronary if she so much as ran down the field herself.)

I swear, if I had balls they would have crawled up into my abdominal cavity--that's how alarming these people's horrible, abusive "cheers" were. Meanwhile, the rest of the parents were all yelling at the ref because they thought all her calls were wrong; god forbid anyone actually be paying attention to the kids and the game. The coach even had to come over to address the parents, asking them to please go easy on the ref, she's just a kid, she's doing her best, etc.

In all my years as a parent (11 and a half) I have never seen any supposedly kid-centric activity turn into the agressive free-for-all that was this game. The whole thing had absolutely nothing to do with the kids or the sport--the actual game took a backseat to the parents' sideline antics. I felt horrified for poor Taylor--whose parents did eventually cheer for her when she kicked the ball into another girl's face: "YEAH--WAY TO GO TAYLOR--GET AGGRESSIVE!!!" and I felt sick that Mimi and the rest of the kids had to listen to the never-ending onslaught of parental yelling and screaming.

After the "GET AGGRESSIVE!!" comment I couldnt' take it anymore; I packed Matthew up and we left (daddy was still there). Maybe it makes me a terrible mom to walk out on my kid's game but I just couldn't help it; I couldn't take sitting two chairs down from these assholes screaming at their kid, or watching the other parents rip the 16 year old girl ref for every other call.

To me, this whole experience is evidence of what happens to parents when they become totally wrapped up in their kids' lives to the point that their kids are pratically their sole focus in life. Maybe that's a leap but honestly, how else do you explain the outright aggression these parents show? This was far from love of the game, standard issue competetiveness; this was just anger and hatred. These parents were not cheering their kids on--it seemed to me they had showed up primed to fight. How are they going to teach their kids sportsmanship when they are busy moving their chairs on the sidelines because they "can't take sitting next to the green team parents" and harassing the officials?

Interestingly, last night I took Matthew to his hockey game (check me out; two sports things in one weekend. Mother of the Year award here I come!) and there was a big sign on the wall outside the rink. I only noticed it when we were leaving and didn't stop to read the whole thing, but it said something about a zero-tolerance policy and that the game would be stopped if a parent was disruptive. That is exactly what they need to have for soccer. However, can you imagine being the one to have to tell bruiser dad that he and his kid were OUT of there? The guy would probably go postal on the kids and the parents at best, and at worst would probably take his rage out on the daughter.

Blogished

From today's Washingtonpost.com OnBalance blog....

Fashion Bullies?

Last week the Wall Street Journal ran this article about "fashion bullies" in middle and high schools who berate other kids for not wearing the "right" clothes. The saddest part of the article to me is not the bullying aspect but the mom featured in the article--the one who drags her sixth grader to Neiman Marcus to pick out couture clothes, which then don't pass muster with her peers because they're not the "right" designer clothes. Are you kidding me?

To me, far more alarming than the bullying is the idea that parents are actually willing to buy couture clothes for kids--which designers are "right" or "wrong" is irrelevant. It's bad enough when one of my kids comes home with a stain on their clothes from Target or the consignment store; I'd have to slit my wrists if the shirt or pair of pants had cost $150.

Meanwhile, every other day you read about the housing crisis and how droves of people are having to foreclose on their houses, or how the average American has something like $10,000 of credit card debt. Why are parents--at least some of whom fall into the group who are carrying $10,000 (and many times, well beyond that) willing to "shop their families broke"?

How about instead of (or at least in addition to) programs that teach girls to navigate peer pressure to dress a certain way or be a certain size, someone offer programs to teach girls about money and how trying to "keep up with the Joneses" can seriously ruin your life? Someone other than Suze Orman, that is, who schools could actually afford to hire as a speaker.

Just reading about this couple would be enough to scare me straight!

Up front, let me give the disclaimer that I have friends who have these kinds of email addresses and I'm not trying to pass judgement or condescend to anyone. I just don't get it; maybe someone can help me understand that I'm off base on this if they feel I am.

That said, what's with women whose email address is "thejonses@whatever.com" or, worse, "myhusbandsname@whatever.com"?

It's not like email costs anything or is troublesome to set up--anyone can have multiple, free email addresses. I don't understand why a person would have a shared email address with their spouse and not just set up their own account. Is it a trust thing? An "aren't we cute?" thing? An "everything we have is ours together" thing?

I just don't get it--to me it's saying I'm just part of a couple or I'm just part of a family and not an individual. Isn't it a little self-deprecating? It seems so 50s to me--"oh, I don't deserve my own email address and honestly, I don't really get how this new-fangled internet mail works anyway, so I just leave it to my husband to deal with."

I don't know--it just makes me sad. I know couples who have the "myinitialandhisinitialsmiths@whateverland.com" address, conveying the message "we're so close we share everything and have no secrets," yet several of those very same couples have broken up because one of them cheated. And the "thesmiths@perfectfamily.com" just strikes me as incredibly sad; more often than not the women who have that email address are stay-home moms and to me it says that they've totally subjugated themselves to their husbands and kids and no longer see themselves as people who are worthy of their own personal experiences.

It reminds me of the address labels with the cartoon pictures of each family member, looking smug and perfect. Yes, the same labels I used to have when I was trying my best to play happy family.

I mean, is it a permission thing, as in the husband tells the wife she can't have her own account? Does he even check it, or does the woman just set it up that way? Would a woman have her friends address paper mail to "my friend and your husband" and intend for the letter or card to be read by both? I don't even mean in a secrecy way, just a friendship way and an interpersonal relationship way. Do my emails to Susie So-and-So need to be written as if I'm addressing both she and her husband, or the whole family?

Anyway, I just don't get it--it depresses me.

Slim Jim follow up

Really quick before Mimi kills me with her whining to leave the house--last weekend I went to the American Dietetic Association's annual meeting's exhibit hall with Patrick and ConAgra, maker of Slim Jim, had a booth. I asked several of the people staffing their booth my question about Slim Jim and why it's the only product not complying with FDA labelling requirements and none of them had an answer. They took my email address and assured me someone would contact me to let me know what the answer is.

Of course the email address I gave was my hotmail address because my gmail address is too long and complicated, and as of yesterday when I was finally able to get into my inbox for once, I had not heard from anyone yet. Of course now I can't get into hotmail at all and who knows when I'll be able to--but then again, even if I can get in, I wonder what the chances are that anyone would actually contact me.

When/if they do I'll let you know what they say.

Hotmail Sucks

For a few months now I've noticed that hotmail is getting harder and harder to log on to. Have any of you (since there are only like 2 of you reading this can you do me a favor and ask around?) had the same problems? It's driving me crazy because I hate paper mail and whenever possible opt for online statements or bills and 75% of the time now just can't get in to hotmail and therefore can't access the information in there--of course my regular emails, but also bills and, more importantly, the archive of whatever stuff I have in there--various account information like password info, login info, etc.

What responsiblity does hotmail or other free email service have to users? Or actually any email service, free or not. We never question whether or not bills or information sent by US mail will arrive--it's a given that anything sent via the USPS will reach the recipient. But now that almost every single service provider--banks, credit card companies, utilities-- who used to rely on US mail now encourages paperless communication, which is entirely dependant on email; isn't the assumption that email providers have some similar obligation to their customers to ensure that information gets delivered?

For hotmail, one of the most reputable email services, to suddenly not be working 75% of the time--how is that acceptable?

I conducted what Patrick calls "fuck-it-off" research on the subject--e.g. googled "problems accessing hotmail" and clicked on the first link and took that information as the gospel truth). Here's what I found:

Ask Leo. Apparently Leo is a computer guru who joined Microsoft in 1983 and therefore should be as reliable a source of information as any on this topic.

The problem with Leo's advice (and it's not Leo's fault; he is merely illustrating exactly what I'm complaining about) is that unfortunately contacting MSN requires you to log on to hotmail--which is exactly what the problem is--that I CAN'T log on.

I then went to MSN and used their form to contact hotmail customer support--I filled in the form and clicked "send"--and got a page saying "Sorry the page you requested is not available."

WTF? So apparently there is no way to contact hotmail customer support--no phone number, as Leo pointed out (unless Leo is wrong; I'm going under the assumption that he's not), no way to log on to the site since www.hotmail.com won't even come up when I try to go to it, and no way to get into my inbox.

If Mimi weren't sitting here waiting for me to take her somewhere I'd look into it more--I'm sure there is some sort of regulating body (or maybe not?) in charge of making sure email providers make subscribers' email accessible. If any of you have any advice/answers about this issue let me know.

Badge Magic

This year Matthew moved up from Bear Cub to Webelo (pronounced "we blow"; Patrick found the irony of that name as it relates to cub scouts quite amusing).

For the past three years his Cub Scout uniform included a dark blue shirt covered with badges. This year he came home with a new tan shirt and informed me that I needed to take all the badges off the old shirt and sew them on the new shirt, along with several new ones. The easy part was removing the badges from the old shirt--Matthew was amazed at my domesticity as I ripped the stitches out. He is very appreciative of any June Cleaver thing I do and praises me highly for the slightest thing, such as removing badges from a shirt.

As soon as I removed the badges he started hounding me about when I was going to sew them on the new shirt. I told him I had to buy a sewing kit then I'd sew them.

That night I went to a Cabi party at a friend's house (suddenly I have a weirdly suburban mom social life, complete with a dozen or more new friends....I'm not sure what caused this sudden popularity after 11 years of never being invited to stuff like Bunko or girls night or whatever. I guess my new status of divorced then remarried to a hot man who cooks, cleans, landscapes his yard and adores me has some kind of mysterious allure) (Oh, and Cabi is an outrageously expensive line of clothing available only at home shows, the apparent cornerstone of suburban mom socialization. But who am I to cut because there I was with a glass of Sangria in one hand and my checkbook in the other?) and was talking to another mom and mentioned something about the imminent badge sewing.

She looked at me like I was crazy--"haven't you heard of Badge Magic?" Was she kidding? No I hadn't heard of Badge Magic--could it be that such a thing existed? Why hadn't I invented it? She went on and on, saying NOBODY sews badges on anymore--then another girl chimed in--"Sew badges? Are you crazy?" The whole gathering launched into a collective sales pitch about the wonders of Badge Magic and how now way can you even sew on those badges without butchering your fingers.

The next day I said to Matthew "Guess what? They sell this stuff called Badge Magic so I won't have to sew all the badges on!" He looked crestfallen and said that Badge Magic doesn't work, that the badges fall off after one time, that it's terrible, I CAN'T use it. But all the moms use it, I insisted, telling him about my conversation the previous night. No, he insisted--it didn't work, all those moms were wrong, you HAVE to sew the badges on.

So I bought the sewing kit and spent an hour last night sewing two of the badges on. My finger was raw and I had to stop after just those two--I still have four more to go. But Matthew was so excited, exclaiming about how I was the best mom in the world, what a great sewer I am, how I had sewn the badges in exactly the right spots.

I guess Badge Magic is for moms who don't have divorce guilt; I need to invest in a thimble.