All Hallows Eve

You know you want to...put on a cape, a wig and paint your face some erie color. Stand by the fence and lurk behind the neighbor kids as they bounce from house to house. Run your long finger nails through the hair of the cute neighbor...ok, ok this is supposed to be spooky don't go that direction. It's not really about the candy for me...it's about the scare factor. Come on this is the only day where you can really do stuff like that and (maybe) get away with it. Let's just hope you know your neighbor really well...and it wouldn't hurt to hand him a peppermint schnapps laced hot chocolate after you scare the crap out of him. And really there is a point to all of this. We are celebrating the end of the harvest, protecting the dissolution of the boundaries between the deceased and ourselves...oh and our harvests too. If we walk around looking half dead perhaps the spirits will confuse us with themselves and leave us alone...or perhaps they will want to party with us. Maybe I should whip up a princess costume instead...wait that's what I wear everyday.

Ahh...Fall Leaves.

This is what I am talking about. If you know me at all you know that I have a down fall for frosted sugar cookies (and my mother's plain melt-in-your-mouth sugar cookies and well...yes rice krispy treats too and sometimes a girl just has to have a piece of expensive chocolate). But it is hard to find a good sugar cookie...and even harder to make them-way to fussy and they never really look that good anyway. However, last weeked I happened to stumble upon a place that has huge frosted cookies...the best tasting, flaky yet soft, sweet but uber flavorful "melt in your mouth" cookies. I bought enough for the whole family, but I couldn't drive the car with a bag full of cookies sitting next to me so I ate mine on the way home. That left 4, but there were only three people at home...one was out with friends. So I got to thinking, if I ate the extra before that person got home, maybe they would never even know we had cookies...I was hoping no one else would bring it up. I weighed my options and thought I would wait until later that night-give the crew a chance to talk or keep quiet. I left the bag in plain sight (stuffed in a corner of the kitchen) and thought I'd sneak a bite later. Well, later the cookie was gone, not a crumb to be found. I'm not sure who ate it cuz if I asked they'd know I was looking for it. Good thing I knew where to get more. Everyone must know about these cookies cuz I had to stand in line and wait for them to frost me up a batch...hey I wasn't leaving empty handed. This morning when I got up there were two cookies left...see I do have a little bit of self control. But the problem is that there are three Wild Ones and only two cookies. I did that math pretty quick and hid the box...and now that the Wild Ones have departed on the bus I am running on a sweet sugar high. So much for my self control.

Fighting it Every Step of the Way.

I woke up this morning to find frost on the ground and covering my windshield (that voice in my head is sooo helpful...perhaps it could have told me last night to put my car in the garage). Let it be known that I do not like to travel to the bus stop when the temperature is below 40...thank you. Right now it is 26 degrees and I have already made one trip to the bus stop and getting ready for another...still not above 40. I will ignore the crunch of ice under my feet and concentrate on the few flowers in my gardens that seem to have forgotten (or choose to dismiss) the fact that winter is closing in. I will not complain forever. When the snow starts piling up and I can no longer see the heads of my flowers poking through I will bundle into my snow things, run through the yard and colapse into the form of a perfect angel (with visions of summer passing under my closed lids)...but until then I will hold out with the best of them.

Would You Like a Pillow With That?

I was finally sleeping last night when a strange noise right by my head kept waking me up. It was kind of like a knocking, but more like fingernails scratching. I was afraid to open my eyes...but also afraid not to. I turned over and peeked and all I could see was black...and then I realized I was looking at the Rotten Dog. Although I was no longer sleeping, he was sawing logs-chasing demons or a cute little Terrier through dreamland and hitting my door with his nails every time he moved. I was almost too tired to move, but I made myself get up and all I could do was throw a huge stuffed yellow dog between Rotten and the door. Yes, I know now in the daylight with caffein buzzing through my veins that I should have just made him move...but, I did not know that at 2 am. So I crawled back in bed, covered my head with my fuzzy blanket, then realized he was standing over me sniffing my head. You see Rotten follows me every where (more on why another day) and I guess he thought I might be headed...oh I don't know...perhaps to the kitchen to make him some prime rib...at 2 am! When he realized I wasn't  going anywhere (not even back to sleep with hot dog breath hitting my nose) he walked around and found a new place to sleep. Unfortunately he curled up on a plastic bag...which ruffled every time he breathed. By this time it was after 3 am and I was not only tired, but awake enough to be pissed. I got up and walked into the hallway (pretending I was on my way to the kitchen to see about that prime rib) and as soon as he trotted off I pushed the door so it was just open a crack (so I could still hear the Wild Ones if they needed any prime rib) and threw the stuffed dog behind it. Rotten was on to me by then and was back sniffing at the door...and whining to come in. I stopped breathing so that he wouldn't know I was in there (yes, if it had been daylight, caffein, etc I would have realized he could still smell me) and I thought it worked...I could hear him walking away. But just as I was snuggling back in I heard a pounding in the hallway...Rotten was running...toward me. He ran down the hallway and threw himself into the door and right into the room. Then stood over me looking all proud like he had just saved me from the boogie man...waiting for me to thank him. I pushed aside the stuff on the bed and invited him in...to snuggle next to me...better than prime rib any day.

Yo, Mama.

It is really hard when your kids are sick. They don't have the energy to get off the couch or make a lot of noise. Remember these times when the illness starts to fade and the craziness begins to creep back in. I kept this Wild One home an extra day to make sure he was 100% before unleashing him back on Mr. A. I had a couple of errands that I had to run and he had to go with me. As the day passed, the squirrellness increased along with my impatience. We were in a craft store searching for a couple of items for a party this weekend and I asked him to help me pick out a few things that he thought "Miss Lisa" might like. He starts talking in a funny voice and tossing silly things at me. He hands me some cowboy stickers and when I roll my eyes at him this is the conversation we have (still in his goofy voice-that others in the store may construe as his own):

Me:   I don't think Miss Lisa will want cowboy stickers.

Boo:    You don't love me do you?

Me:    Yes, I love you, but Lisa likes sparkly things.

Boo:    So you really don't love me then.

Me:    Let's just get this done so we can leave.

Boo:    But you don't love me.

Me:  Yep, you're right, I don't.

Boo:    (Laughing and in his goofy voice) Oh...You...Mother.  (meaning I am his mother and he knows I love him, but sounding to others like something that could be followed by the F word).

At this point I look up to see two women looking at us from down the aisle with their eyebrows raised.  

Me:    (Grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the exit) Come here sweetie, let's go see if we can find your mommy. 

And this my friends is the real reason they invented schools.

Hell's Kitchen.

If Hell is hot, would you enter Hell's Kitchen? Hell ya! You can get me to go any where or do just about anything with the promise of great food (pack that tid bit away for later). If in Minneapolis, be sure to stop by for lunch and if you want dinner you'll have to hop on 35W and head north...way north...to Duluth. But I gotta tell ya, it sure is worth it. The Wild Ones beg to go there any time we make it north of Rutledge. We were a little worried the first time when they placed us under this, but we just tried not to look up. The blood red walls are filled with black framed photos, art and cartoons...think The Far Side. The decor is half the fun, but the food is fabulous. They have many specialties including bison, Fred Flinstone ribs, sweet potato fries, breakfast all day and sauces that made me want to lick the ramekin (but I didn't). They even made special berry kabobs for the Wild Ones and friends. Beware of the PBJ, it comes toasted...which sounds delicious to me, but didn't go over so well with my young friend. We were given a private room. Maybe they remembered us from our last visit and wanted to give us special treatment...probably not, I am sure they cleared the "special room" when they heard that our kids out numbered the adults. We had a great night with great friends...until we got back to the hotel at 11 pm when all Hell really broke loose.

Do they make hair dye for that?

This is going to be another one of those "I can't believe I shared that" moment, but I have this bad habit of telling all, so... I have the Wild Ones at a hotel with a water park which requires the wearing of a bathing suit (duh), which also requires a little landscaping if you know what I mean. Too late, I was standing in the bathroom last night putting on my suit when I realized this. And as I was inspecting the damage (nope, no possibility of taking off my cover up with out scaring the small children and sending all handsome men running for cover) I was distracted by something shiny nestled in the middle of the unlandscaped shrub. OMG it was a grey hair...I don't even have any grey hair on my head (really, stylists always comment on that...what do they really think I look that old or what)!! So I am a little freaked out. I have never thought of that happening...does the whole thing eventually go grey? What do I do? Do they make hair dye for that? Oh what the hell, maybe I'll just start plucking!

Let them eat carrots.

The Great Fall...I mean...Carrot Harvest.

I have to take you back to May, say about Mother's Day. Someone has a great idea to have the Wild Ones plant a vegetable garden for "the mother". Well, I cannot just leave it at the veggies, so I design this whole garden/fence/sculpture thing. Yep, it was really cool and I couldn't wait to get started. Unfortunately the great ideas AND the lack of follow through runs in the family. We got as far as the planning and the planting and then the Wild Ones "forgot" all about the tiny growing things. I was left to water, weed and tend to these small green things...and I think we've been through that before. Finally we began to have miniature pumpkins, cantaloupes, watermelons and little white roots that we were sure would turn into bright orange carrots. Well, then sports started again and school was in full bloom and well I kind of forgot about all the winter sustenance out in the front yard. It's not like the pumpkins were big enough to see as I drove down the driveway...then, I may have paid attention. But today as I was walking the garbage to the street I thought about what may have survived the deer, bunny and pheasant infestation. The mini melons never made it past puberty and Linus would have cried at the sight of our lone pumpkin...that wouldn't have tipped the scale against one crab apple. But the sight of the carrot tops gave me hope that the orange veggies under the soil had not yet realized that they were being cared for by an incompetent (but big hearted) gardener. I always knew that I didn't have a green thumb, but I never thought about checking to see if it was orange.

A battle with the demons.

What do you do when someone you love is sick? No, panic is not an option. Well OK I did start to panic last night. The wee Wild One started feeling badly and had a high fever almost instantly. Even with motrin his fever was still above 101 degrees. Calmness was still winning in my head, but by bedtime (which was late as the Wild Ones don't have school today) the Big Guy was out galavanting and the fever was on the rise. He was burning to the skin and the thermometer read 108...yes I checked it three times. This is when the demon inside me took over and made me (a little more) crazy. As I was reaching for the phone to call 911 I realized that while he was burning up, if his temp really was 108 things would probably look a lot different. As I was bathing him in cool wet clothes I questioned him about the kids at school (those dang germ spreaders) and found out that several kids had been out for 2 and 3 days...and came back. The demon began to shrink as I realized this is just another bump in the road. The wee Wild One is not back to normal, but is well enough to fight the other two for turns at Club Penguin and Wii...even with his temp of 106. 

Oh Happy Day.

You know it's a good week when you go to the laundry room and your stack of work out clothes is bigger than your stack of regular clothes. Yep, sometimes that's all it takes to put a smile on my face...perhaps I should use that as motivation...or I could just use a piece of French Silk Pie.

October...all things scary.

The leaves are changing, the weather is getting crisp. Pumpkins are ready for carving and apples are calling to be wrapped in caramel. Kids are waiting in anticipation of a dark, creepy night of trick-or-treating. I just can't help myself...I feel the need to hide behind dark corners and lurk behind people in hallways. I think it was my brother-in-law, Mr. Epoo, who first suggested I get myself a broomstick. So yesterday I just couldn't resist when a friend emailed me a computer game. I had to share with a few people that I thought would still be my friend after "playing." Turns out I might have been wrong on a few counts...I'm almost sorry...almost. Then when the Wild Ones came home from school I debated about letting them try the game...for about 3 seconds. I got them all huddled around the computer-nice and close- and let them play. One had eyes as big as the apples we serve with caramel, one covered her eyes and may start speaking to me later today if I am lucky and the third screamed in my ear and then fell on the floor laughing. He made me play it over and over...rolling on the floor each time I did it. I figure I still have two and a half months to campaign for the "Mother of the Year" award...I better get crackin'-- one down, two to go.

Nothin' like a small town bar.

If you ever feel like you want to step out of your reality (for a few hours) or just try something different head out to your local "small town" bar. We planned a night out with the BFF's, had the oldest Wild One babysitting the other four and planned to head out to hear our favorite band just up the street. We had dinner at a hole in the wall supper club (where else can you get a good drink for $3.35?!) and tried to stifle the yawns waiting for the appropriate time to head up to hear the band. You know you are small...and hick...town when you have to park out in the field because the lot is filled with these. I knew something was amiss when we got close to the building and could not hear any music. We ran into the lead singer around the first corner...turns out they had just finished. Evidently it was a late afternoon gig (which meant that I could have already danced, drank and been at home tucked in my cosy bed). What I got instead was a good laugh. Karaoke Ken had taken over and we got to watch the show. I felt young and stylish compared to the crowd of American Idol wannabes. Now I have been know to be a little naughty and get a little wild, but I was actually shocked when this song came on (and was sang quite well by another lady held over from 1980). It was the highlight of my night. Hey,what can I say... I guess I'm just an easy (and cheap) date!

Sweet 16.

That's right 16 sweet years of marriage. (I spent several hours this morning trying to scan some wedding pictures and instead of throwing the printer across the room I substituted pictures of what I would like, or not like-I'll let you guess-if I were getting remarried today...to the Big Guy of course). I met the Big Guy when I was 16, spent 7 years courting him (and a few minutes where I thought we might end up in court), popped the question on New Year's Eve...yup I asked him and a year and a half later...Mr. and Mrs. W. Abbott. Now what's so weird is that there is no way that someone as young (and vibrant I might add) could possibly have met her beloved 24 1/2 years ago. These damn anniversaries just seem to remind me of how old we are. So it hasn't always been roses and champagne, but my heart still does a little pitter patter when I see his text messages and when I hear him walk in the door at night. He bends over backwards to do little things for me...and I let him (after all it is a mighty nice view). The Big Guy surprised me this morning with a massage table, so in all my appreciation I asked him where the certificate was for "life long massages." He said that was what he was waiting for. I guess that would be payback for the latte maker I got him for his birthday...I was just trying to make it easier for him to make me my weekend coffee! Actually I am pretty sure that the Big Guy would go to bed happy every night if he could give me a bed time massage (and even happier if I would reciprocate).

Of all the phone calls I received today, I think my dad said it best, "Congratulations on keeping a guy that long." Following my silence (and muffled giggle) he said, "What? I would say the same thing to the Big Guy about you." Thanks, Dad!

Polichicks.

Ok, I am really ready for this election to be over. Not just so we can stop hearing all the crap loaded on by each "team," but also the suspense is killing me. I am not into scary movies or fast paced sports...the adrenaline almost always kills me. I have to pace at sporting events and I totally fidget (or leave the room) when there is a thriller on TV. I also must confess that I have to read when Willi is driving as I really don't want to see the pending crash as it happens. I just want to swear in the better man and get on with affordable health care and a balanced budget. Really, is that too much to ask? 

Why, why, why???

Why is it that every time I turn around there is more junk, stuff, shit all over my house? When the Wild Ones leave for school and the Big Guy drags his butt off to work the house usually looks pretty good (in part because I have been up since 5:45 making it that way...no resentment in my voice...I promise...kind of). But by 8:00 pm it looks like someone has unleashed a herd of invisible elves that drag in every kind of dirt, sand, grass clippings and lint they have stored up for at least 6 months. They also litter my counters with piles of colored papers that are supposed to be important...it's just that there are too many to even make it to the bottom before more reappear. They also create spots on shirts and smudges of tooth paste all over the sinks and weird marks on the surfaces of anything shiny including windows, mirrors and counters...I think they may be licking things. They scatter crumbs and throw about shoes, underwear and dirty socks. It happens everyday. I think I have it figured out. It won't fix my problem, but it may help someone else. Abstinance...don't have sex...it creates invisible elves that wreak havoc in your life. Yep, I am pretty sure that is it. I will have to put the Wild Ones and the Big Guy on the alert...perhaps we could capture these creatures and put order back into my once simple life.

40 never looked so good.

Not bad for a group of soccer/football moms. The baby of the group finally hit forty and what better excuse for a party, heck we'd go out just cuz it was the third Tuesday of the month. I was excited that the oldest Wild One is finally old enough to babysit when we go out. But, wait...it gets better. In just a few more years, not only will the littler Wild Ones be able to stay alone, but the oldest One will be able to pick us up from the bar. Our own little taxi service...just hope were not too old and tired to take advantage of it.

Here's to my "girls" and Julie Mc Coy for getting us all together back in 2000...sorry if the champagne at the bus stop got you in trouble!!

A House in a Hospital.

I gave up TV about 3 1/2 years ago...couldn't stand all the horrors and dumb shit that just didn't seem relevant or entertaining anymore. I have watched a few episodes of the Today Show, Biggest Loser and American Idol, but nothing has ever made me want to stay home to see it. Nope, never even seen one episode of Sex in the City and couldn't pick Mc Dreamy out of a crowd of two. So last night after the Wild Ones were in bed-notice I didn't say sleeping-I decided to sit with the Big Guy instead of escaping...I mean reading my book. He was deep into a show I had never even heard of, "House." So instead of watching and letting him fill me in, I tried to tell him what I thought the show was about...maybe I don't watch TV cuz it annoys the Big Guy too much. Kind of like being in a movie theater...supposed to be quiet and enjoy the show...me quiet?...only when I'm reading. It turns out the show is about a guy named House-a doctor no less, not a bunch of people living together, but that sounds good too. The show has a strange sense of humor which made me laugh out loud. The plot has a reality twist, however the plot is still pretty predictable. Could I watch it once a week...snuggled in with the Big Guy? You bet. Back to back episodes? I don't think so.

Are you afraid of the boogie man?

Um...well...yeah. That's right, I admit it. And apparently so is my mom. We were driving home from "the hood" the other night when I heard something in the bak of my car. Now the Wild Ones were at home all snuggled in bed (or so I hoped) and I don't have a fluffy little dog that I carry around with me. So that kind of left the options open as to what...or who...was making all that noise in the way back. I did have a large box in the back that would have seemed the logical suspect, however, the noise was more prevalent when the car was not moving (see, no movement of the car should equal no movement of the box). I started to get a little freaked and my mother-who overreacts at the phrase "hello"-turned into scary psycho. Now either of us alone might have been able to talk ourselves out of the panic, but together we talked each other into a panic. The highway was dark (no, really it was) and there was no quick exit. I tried to get my mom to crawl in the back and check it out...didn't happen. So I pulled over at the first opportunity and we both jumped from the car, left our doors open, open the back doors and then peered into the way back. I told her to stand back and I lifted the hatch...nothing. We were half convinced that a huge boogie man could actually be hiding behind a 12" tall box. We laughed, pretended to be brave and got back in the car. As soon as we pulled out, the noise began to taunt us. We continued to laugh...like that would some how protect us...until I dropped her off. Then I was alone and it wasn't so funny anymore. I decided it was best to make friends with the "creature" (I have had two friends with creatures in their cars: one had a mouse run across her foot and the other had a flying squirrel escape in the back of his car). I started talking-I'm pretty good at that you know-and the noise stopped. I had either put the thing to sleep or couldn't hear it over my own ramblings! Either way I made it home safe...I just wonder if the boogie man is now hiding in my back yard.

Nice Kazongas.

Oh the proud papa! I don't care what you call them ("aspirins on an ironing board," "honkers,"  "torpedos", or just "big old titties" or go ahead and name your own-mine are Micky and Bonifa, funny that one of the Big Guys is also named Bonifa...I knew it was fate!-or what they look like (of course we all have our own opinions of what looks good and what does not)...the point is you gotta take care of them. Today starts  Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I'd like to challenge everyone to feel yourself up...or ask someone else to do it for you-doesn't even have to be a doctor (although if HE's cute...well why not?). Heck, I can't forget the men, you should get in on the fun too (the feeling up part, not the disease part). Prevention, early diagnosis and a cure will keep us all going long enough to enjoy each other for the decades to come. So if you don't do it for yourself do it for me...or I can do it for you...I mean just do it. Eat well, feel yourself up and give a little if you can. Here's to all of us...Ooogy wawa!!

Special shout out to my sister-in-law Kristy and my grandmother Mavis who have both been diagnosed, battled with and come out on top of this nasty disease. "To women...we need no eulogy...we speak for ourselves."