Basically I've been avoiding Legionnaires Disease my entire life.
I know that sounds like a rather random pursuit--and it is--but let me assure you it's entirely true. I blame on my mother, because I have never known anyone with this affliction, am not personally familiar with any of the affects, nor really know exactly what it is, but I do have an unreasonable fear of theme park misters and water parks. And I swore early on that if I ever became First Lady, the eradication of this disease would be my personal Betty Ford Clinic.
After a lifetime of holding my breath past Splash Mountain and resisting the urge to hurling those stupid spray bottle fans that always seem to mist me in line for a churro by sweating strangers, I have now been exposed to my worst nightmare of dying a slow and painful death in a VFW lodge, and I was no where near a log flume.
Yep, we were in the freaking Aria Hotel in Vegas on the dates in question.
The only possible upside I can find in this situation is that so far Sean nor I haven't experienced any symptoms yet and when I do finally become First Lady my charitable foundation won't seem nearly as hollow now.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Super Road Trip
Every summer I like to plan a family road trip. Every fall I realize that my husband and I have totally different thoughts on what exactly that means.
Me: When I said I wanted to go on a road trip to an exotic locale, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
Husband: What could be more exotic than Metropolis? It’s the home of Superman!
Me: Somehow I think the comic book was referring to some other major fictitious city, not Metropolis, Illinois.
Husband: I know. We lucked out that it existed just a few hours drive from home.
Me: (Staring up at giant plastic Superman statue in the town square.) Not sure if “lucky” is the word I’d use....
Husband: Go stand there in front of it and I’ll take your picture.
Me: As much as I’d love using that image as my Facebook profile picture, how about we go into the museum instead?
Husband: Way ahead of you there, honey. I’ve got V.I.P. tickets right here!
Me: (Inspecting dilapidated building we are about to enter.) Did you say, V.I.P. or OMG?
Husband: (Ignoring me, completely engrossed in the gross.) What was that, dear?
Me: Oh nothing. Say, was that substance Superman was susceptible to?
Husband: Kryptonite?
Me: (Noticing the falling ceiling tiles.) How did he do with asbestos?
Husband: (Again, ignoring me and now stumbling into the 1970’s Superman popular merchandise exhibit.) I had that same lunch box when I was in the third grade!
Me: Hmm, very authentic. I don’t think it’s been dusted since then. (Surveying the dingy surroundings.) You know, I saw Superman I, 2 and 3, and not once did Krypton look like some creepy guy’s basement.
Husband: I know, isn’t it great that all of this precious memorabilia could be preserved like this and not thrown away by a wife who has watched too many hours of HGTV...
Me: (My turn to ignore. I am captivated by the Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist’s puppet on a unicycle dressed in Underoos hat seems to follow me with its wooden eyes around the room.)
In unison: I wonder if anything (I hope nothing) in here is for sale....
Me: If you take one more step toward that case of Justice League replica signet rings, you’ll be sleeping in your own Fortress of Solitude.
Husband: Why don’t you go outside and wait by that empty phone booth? You never know when you might run into Clark Kent.
A few more bad super hero puns, a bag of nostalgic novelties and five ice cream ringed smiles later, he and the kids emerge giggling and triumphant.
It is then I realize that he may not be more powerful than a locomotive or leap buildings in a single bound, but when it comes to fun family road trips, he is Mr. Fantastic.
Me: When I said I wanted to go on a road trip to an exotic locale, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
Husband: What could be more exotic than Metropolis? It’s the home of Superman!
Me: Somehow I think the comic book was referring to some other major fictitious city, not Metropolis, Illinois.
Husband: I know. We lucked out that it existed just a few hours drive from home.
Me: (Staring up at giant plastic Superman statue in the town square.) Not sure if “lucky” is the word I’d use....
Husband: Go stand there in front of it and I’ll take your picture.
Me: As much as I’d love using that image as my Facebook profile picture, how about we go into the museum instead?
Husband: Way ahead of you there, honey. I’ve got V.I.P. tickets right here!
Me: (Inspecting dilapidated building we are about to enter.) Did you say, V.I.P. or OMG?
Husband: (Ignoring me, completely engrossed in the gross.) What was that, dear?
Me: Oh nothing. Say, was that substance Superman was susceptible to?
Husband: Kryptonite?
Me: (Noticing the falling ceiling tiles.) How did he do with asbestos?
Husband: (Again, ignoring me and now stumbling into the 1970’s Superman popular merchandise exhibit.) I had that same lunch box when I was in the third grade!
Me: Hmm, very authentic. I don’t think it’s been dusted since then. (Surveying the dingy surroundings.) You know, I saw Superman I, 2 and 3, and not once did Krypton look like some creepy guy’s basement.
Husband: I know, isn’t it great that all of this precious memorabilia could be preserved like this and not thrown away by a wife who has watched too many hours of HGTV...
Me: (My turn to ignore. I am captivated by the Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist’s puppet on a unicycle dressed in Underoos hat seems to follow me with its wooden eyes around the room.)
In unison: I wonder if anything (I hope nothing) in here is for sale....
Me: If you take one more step toward that case of Justice League replica signet rings, you’ll be sleeping in your own Fortress of Solitude.
Husband: Why don’t you go outside and wait by that empty phone booth? You never know when you might run into Clark Kent.
A few more bad super hero puns, a bag of nostalgic novelties and five ice cream ringed smiles later, he and the kids emerge giggling and triumphant.
It is then I realize that he may not be more powerful than a locomotive or leap buildings in a single bound, but when it comes to fun family road trips, he is Mr. Fantastic.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Ottomans don't make good stocking stuffers
Every time I hear the phrase, “Christmas in July,” I want to punch someone in the throat. I apologize to all the furniture and mattress salesman for my violent outburst, but it must be said.
If we set aside all of the obvious and significant religious, cultural and historical differences, Christmas and the 4th of July have absolutely nothing in common so I’m not sure why retailers insist on linking the two. With the exception of the freshest corn on the cob and best-looking steaks in the case, there is no buying frenzy on the Fourth. And while “Crazy Louie” at the fireworks stand may strike a resemblance to Santa, I’m pretty sure that his big white beard is mange and that’s a prison jumpsuit. (And you don’t even want to know what’s in that sack.)
It’s not that I don’t love Christmas, I do. A reindeer tattoo on my left ankle almost proved that before I realized that “Blitzen” might be construed as overindulgence on egg nog rather than my affinity for yuletide woodland animals. Nevertheless, I do love Christmastime. I just have a finite fondness that lasts for the month of December and don’t appreciate being reminded of it during the lazy days of summer. The only trees I want to see decorated are with tire swings and fireflies and fruitcake should only refer to cherry pie.
Christmas is also one of the most obligated-laden days of the year. There are so many “have-tos” it’s kind of nice to have a holiday where the only must is watching a parade. No one ever says, “I really must get my Independence Day cards out earlier this year,” because the only reason to ever take an awkward family picture in July is for your passport photo to Barbados.
So while I appreciate the need to stimulate the economy prior to Black Friday, let’s lay off the yuletide references on this Red, White and Blue Monday. Just because I still have my Christmas lights up doesn’t necessarily mean I’m ready to buy a mattress. A ladder and a case of egg nog, perhaps, but not a mattress.
(But now I know what to ask for from Santa this year...)
©2011 Tracey Henry
You can Divamail me those Independence Day cards if you want to....
If we set aside all of the obvious and significant religious, cultural and historical differences, Christmas and the 4th of July have absolutely nothing in common so I’m not sure why retailers insist on linking the two. With the exception of the freshest corn on the cob and best-looking steaks in the case, there is no buying frenzy on the Fourth. And while “Crazy Louie” at the fireworks stand may strike a resemblance to Santa, I’m pretty sure that his big white beard is mange and that’s a prison jumpsuit. (And you don’t even want to know what’s in that sack.)
It’s not that I don’t love Christmas, I do. A reindeer tattoo on my left ankle almost proved that before I realized that “Blitzen” might be construed as overindulgence on egg nog rather than my affinity for yuletide woodland animals. Nevertheless, I do love Christmastime. I just have a finite fondness that lasts for the month of December and don’t appreciate being reminded of it during the lazy days of summer. The only trees I want to see decorated are with tire swings and fireflies and fruitcake should only refer to cherry pie.
Christmas is also one of the most obligated-laden days of the year. There are so many “have-tos” it’s kind of nice to have a holiday where the only must is watching a parade. No one ever says, “I really must get my Independence Day cards out earlier this year,” because the only reason to ever take an awkward family picture in July is for your passport photo to Barbados.
So while I appreciate the need to stimulate the economy prior to Black Friday, let’s lay off the yuletide references on this Red, White and Blue Monday. Just because I still have my Christmas lights up doesn’t necessarily mean I’m ready to buy a mattress. A ladder and a case of egg nog, perhaps, but not a mattress.
(But now I know what to ask for from Santa this year...)
©2011 Tracey Henry
You can Divamail me those Independence Day cards if you want to....
Friday, June 17, 2011
Just another week in Music City
Some of these summer days have been spent kicking it with the country stars in my never-ending quest to hob-knob with Nashville's famous and replace the top search of my blog with something other than Kenny Chesney's headwear or lack thereof. Here are just a few recent photos from the CMT awards and from the Grand Ole Opry.
Carrie Underwood belting it out on the Opry stage.
Darius Rucker, or Hootie if you're old school.
This is how close we were to Nicole and Keith on the Red Carpet at the CMT's.
But here are the real stars...
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Summer
Summer finally arrived and we are enjoying it immensely. We have filled the days with a whole lot of nothing, and that's just fine with me. It is time for nothing.
People keep telling me how hot it is here in the summer, and just wait till I feel that humidity. I smile and nod, but inside I'm thinking, "Are you kidding me? I lived in Florida for 10 years, I think I know a thing or two about humidity. I am three inches taller south of Gainesville from the frizz of my hair. I know wet heat." But I take the note of caution and skip the passive-aggressiveness without displaying the 3rd degree burns on the backs of my thighs from getting into a car. In January.
But the cicadas have gone and the fireflies are out and I'm ready for a Tennessee summer. Bring it.
People keep telling me how hot it is here in the summer, and just wait till I feel that humidity. I smile and nod, but inside I'm thinking, "Are you kidding me? I lived in Florida for 10 years, I think I know a thing or two about humidity. I am three inches taller south of Gainesville from the frizz of my hair. I know wet heat." But I take the note of caution and skip the passive-aggressiveness without displaying the 3rd degree burns on the backs of my thighs from getting into a car. In January.
But the cicadas have gone and the fireflies are out and I'm ready for a Tennessee summer. Bring it.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
They've got critters here too
From a recent email alert from our anal-retentive Homeowner's Association:
We don’t want to alarm people, but feel we have an obligation to remind you and especially parents of young children, that poisonous snakes are indigenous to Tennessee and have been found in the neighborhood. In order to ensure safety as best we can, we have hired a wildlife management company to assess the situation in the neighborhood. Both garden snakes and poisonous snakes have been found in the water behind the clubhouse and around the pond. Fur-n-Feathers will be out in the community on a regular basis over the next three months eradicating as many snakes as possible. As with most wildlife, snakes are more scared of you and tend to hide if they sense human activity, but please use caution when you are near the rocks and edges of the ponds.
Then, a week later:
Our wildlife management company has been out in the community trying to set traps to catch the poisonous snakes in the area. Unfortunately, seven of his traps have been stolen from around the pond area. This vandalism costs the HOA money and hinders our efforts to eradicate the poisonous snakes. If you know who may be tampering with the snake program, please contact the property management office.
Looks like that snake problem might continue for a few more weeks.
And that our HOA fees will increase.
We don’t want to alarm people, but feel we have an obligation to remind you and especially parents of young children, that poisonous snakes are indigenous to Tennessee and have been found in the neighborhood. In order to ensure safety as best we can, we have hired a wildlife management company to assess the situation in the neighborhood. Both garden snakes and poisonous snakes have been found in the water behind the clubhouse and around the pond. Fur-n-Feathers will be out in the community on a regular basis over the next three months eradicating as many snakes as possible. As with most wildlife, snakes are more scared of you and tend to hide if they sense human activity, but please use caution when you are near the rocks and edges of the ponds.
Then, a week later:
Our wildlife management company has been out in the community trying to set traps to catch the poisonous snakes in the area. Unfortunately, seven of his traps have been stolen from around the pond area. This vandalism costs the HOA money and hinders our efforts to eradicate the poisonous snakes. If you know who may be tampering with the snake program, please contact the property management office.
Looks like that snake problem might continue for a few more weeks.
And that our HOA fees will increase.
Monday, May 16, 2011
And then there were two...
...weeks, that is. Until the blessed end of this school year.
A lot is packed into these last two weeks, but it's what's not there that is significant. No move. No new classrooms or classmates. No doctor's visits (God-willing), no surgeries, no injuries. No new uniforms, books or roads to learn. No new paths to figure out.
When I look back to the beginning of this school year it seems like years ago that we were entering a new high school; new teachers and experiences in first and fifth grades. We've packed a lot of life into these last six months, and I'm proud of my kids for giving it their all even on days that it was the hardest thing in the world to do. They are truly wonders of resilience.
I look forward to every summer, but this is one I relish most. They have earned this break and I'm looking forward to being in closer awe of them.
A lot is packed into these last two weeks, but it's what's not there that is significant. No move. No new classrooms or classmates. No doctor's visits (God-willing), no surgeries, no injuries. No new uniforms, books or roads to learn. No new paths to figure out.
When I look back to the beginning of this school year it seems like years ago that we were entering a new high school; new teachers and experiences in first and fifth grades. We've packed a lot of life into these last six months, and I'm proud of my kids for giving it their all even on days that it was the hardest thing in the world to do. They are truly wonders of resilience.
I look forward to every summer, but this is one I relish most. They have earned this break and I'm looking forward to being in closer awe of them.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I have yet to find my local sommelier...
If you know me, you know where I like to shop for wine in my old hood. I never had a bad bottle there--a couple labels were deadly to Sean, but they weren't bad--and I could always count on them for the best recommendations. And they gave you a glass while you shopped.
Here? Notsomuch.
Me: Yes, I'm looking for a nice bottle of red for a stuffed leg of lamb for Easter dinner. Do you have any suggestions?
Dude Working the counter of the wine and spirits store. (Which doesn't smell like wine, or fruit or oak barrels. It smells like wet cement and broken dreams.) ?
Me: (Thinking his confusion was the menu.) Well, it's stuffed with a homemade sausage and rosemary stuffing with scallion and a hint of orange zest. I then wrap it in pastry and roast for another 45 minutes.
Dude: Fascinating. Let me check. (Consults laminated placard behind register.) Looks like Merlot will do it. (Rhymes with Mer-snot.)
Me: That says "ham," not "lamb."
Dude: (Squinting.) So it does. You want me to find a bottle?
Me: I think I can take it from here.
I'm kind of glad they didn't offer me a glass of Mersnot while I shopped..
Here? Notsomuch.
Me: Yes, I'm looking for a nice bottle of red for a stuffed leg of lamb for Easter dinner. Do you have any suggestions?
Dude Working the counter of the wine and spirits store. (Which doesn't smell like wine, or fruit or oak barrels. It smells like wet cement and broken dreams.) ?
Me: (Thinking his confusion was the menu.) Well, it's stuffed with a homemade sausage and rosemary stuffing with scallion and a hint of orange zest. I then wrap it in pastry and roast for another 45 minutes.
Dude: Fascinating. Let me check. (Consults laminated placard behind register.) Looks like Merlot will do it. (Rhymes with Mer-snot.)
Me: That says "ham," not "lamb."
Dude: (Squinting.) So it does. You want me to find a bottle?
Me: I think I can take it from here.
I'm kind of glad they didn't offer me a glass of Mersnot while I shopped..
Thursday, April 14, 2011
April showers bring May dollars
Negotiating with landscapers was so much simpler in Florida than it is in the north....
SD: So what’s all that green stuff all over the yard?
Landscaper: Um, grass....
SD: Well that’s weird. It certainly doesn’t look like the grass I’m used to in Florida. Are you allowed to walk on it?
Landscaper: Yes, that is its designed purpose.
SD: Barefoot with no threat of lacerations or tetanus?
Landscaper: I’ve never heard of anyone getting lockjaw from a shoeless stroll in Kentucky Bluegrass, so I think you’d be okay.
SD: Wow. What about this? (Pointing to dead brown things under bushes.)
Landscaper: Ma’am, those are leaves.
SD: Even I know that! But what are they doing all over the ground?
Landscaper: Um, they fell from the trees back in the fall like they tend to do every year. For another $500 we can clean them up for you.
SD: Seems a little steep for something you know is going to happen every year....
Landscaper: Where’d you say you were from again? Jupiter?
SD: No, silly, that’s on the other coast. Now, I want to ask you about these trees over here. I already know they’re Bradford Pears, but so far they haven’t produced any fruit. They may need to be replaced.
Landscaper: They are not like citrus trees, they don’t actually grow edible pears.
SD: Great. And now I suppose those Japanese Maples aren’t going to produce wasabi syrup?
Landscaper: No, and the dogwoods won’t be having puppies either.
SD: (Scowling.) Well, since you’re also an apparent expert in animal husbandry, maybe you could tell me what’s hatching over here in the flower bed?
Landscaper: (Looking closely.) Ma’am, that’s a tulip. (Shaking head.) Don’t tell me you don’t have any spring bulbs down there? Crocuses? Irises?
SD: (Thinking.) We have bullfrogs and cataract surgery. Look, this is as fruitless (and disappointing) as that mimosa tree I had back in Tampa. Can you just give me a price on yard maintenance until I can learn my way around?
Landscaper writes numbers furiously on the back of a seed packet.
SD: (Choking back a sob.) Well, at least I know why weeping willows thrive here.
©2011 Tracey Henry
Divamail me the Burpee seed catalog!
SD: So what’s all that green stuff all over the yard?
Landscaper: Um, grass....
SD: Well that’s weird. It certainly doesn’t look like the grass I’m used to in Florida. Are you allowed to walk on it?
Landscaper: Yes, that is its designed purpose.
SD: Barefoot with no threat of lacerations or tetanus?
Landscaper: I’ve never heard of anyone getting lockjaw from a shoeless stroll in Kentucky Bluegrass, so I think you’d be okay.
SD: Wow. What about this? (Pointing to dead brown things under bushes.)
Landscaper: Ma’am, those are leaves.
SD: Even I know that! But what are they doing all over the ground?
Landscaper: Um, they fell from the trees back in the fall like they tend to do every year. For another $500 we can clean them up for you.
SD: Seems a little steep for something you know is going to happen every year....
Landscaper: Where’d you say you were from again? Jupiter?
SD: No, silly, that’s on the other coast. Now, I want to ask you about these trees over here. I already know they’re Bradford Pears, but so far they haven’t produced any fruit. They may need to be replaced.
Landscaper: They are not like citrus trees, they don’t actually grow edible pears.
SD: Great. And now I suppose those Japanese Maples aren’t going to produce wasabi syrup?
Landscaper: No, and the dogwoods won’t be having puppies either.
SD: (Scowling.) Well, since you’re also an apparent expert in animal husbandry, maybe you could tell me what’s hatching over here in the flower bed?
Landscaper: (Looking closely.) Ma’am, that’s a tulip. (Shaking head.) Don’t tell me you don’t have any spring bulbs down there? Crocuses? Irises?
SD: (Thinking.) We have bullfrogs and cataract surgery. Look, this is as fruitless (and disappointing) as that mimosa tree I had back in Tampa. Can you just give me a price on yard maintenance until I can learn my way around?
Landscaper writes numbers furiously on the back of a seed packet.
SD: (Choking back a sob.) Well, at least I know why weeping willows thrive here.
©2011 Tracey Henry
Divamail me the Burpee seed catalog!
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Because we hate cancer and love the playoffs
Beard-a-thon, Baby!
Some good has to come out of this beard thing-- vote for Sean's beard and/or pledge some $ to help fight cancer if you can.
P.S. If you love the playoffs, hate cancer and have a particular fondness for Yukon Cornelius, then make another vote for the Intern's beard.....
http://www.beardathon.com/predators/dannyb/profile.aspx
Monday, April 11, 2011
B Kind 2 Earth Day--April 22
Coming from a place of green alligators and long-necked geese, we are more than a little curious as to what native critters are in these parts.
In addition to the coyote I know I saw driving home late one night, (either that or dogs are really big here and they have lax leash laws) there are a lot of birds, squirrels, and horses. (Which I’m not sure are technically “native” but act like they own the place, so there you go.) There are also a number of trees, flowers and plant life that look vaguely familiar, but it’s been a decade since I’ve seen a tulip growing in the spring.
That’s why to celebrate B Kind 2 Earth Day on April 22, the kids and I will be visiting our local nature center at Warner Park to learn more about and appreciate our local flora and fauna.
Liking the B Kind to Earth Day page on Facebook is your way of making a commitment to be kind to our planet in your own way. It can be a trip to the nature center, or riding your bike or cloth instead of paper or plastic. Filling a bird feeder or planting a garden or whatever your family chooses to be conscious and kind to our earth on this special day. There are many fantastic partners in this cause, and it’s a wonderful opportunity to make a difference.
So like it, love it and be a part of it.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Suburban Diva's Top 5 Country Stars Based Nothing on Music But Only My Warped Sense of Priorities:
5. Barbara Mandrell. I met her and she made a very witty joke while she was drinking something with a lime in it. We could totally hang.
4. Kenny Chesney because he brings me hundreds of hits on my blog everyday.
3. Alan Jackson. He's my neighbor and it's always 5 o'clock on our street.
2. Carrie Underwood. Her husband Mike Fisher is an awesome hockey player who is going to help bring the Cup to Nashville.
And my new number one favorite?
Kix Brooks. Country music legend, Preds fan, and gentleman. AND HE OWNS HIS OWN WINERY.
(Note to Garth Brooks or Brad Paisley: You could totally take over the number one position with a cupcake stand and decent Margarita mix.)
4. Kenny Chesney because he brings me hundreds of hits on my blog everyday.
3. Alan Jackson. He's my neighbor and it's always 5 o'clock on our street.
2. Carrie Underwood. Her husband Mike Fisher is an awesome hockey player who is going to help bring the Cup to Nashville.
And my new number one favorite?
Kix Brooks. Country music legend, Preds fan, and gentleman. AND HE OWNS HIS OWN WINERY.
(Note to Garth Brooks or Brad Paisley: You could totally take over the number one position with a cupcake stand and decent Margarita mix.)
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Vacancy
One of the very best parts of living in Nashville are the slumber parties.
That's what I call the sudden influx of overnight visitors, anyhow.
Back in Florida we really didn't have the room to house the many guests that travelled south to Disney or the beach. Here, the living quarters are a bit larger so that everyone who comes bunks down for the weekend and we can have fun 24 hours a day.
This past weekend we had a dozen more added to our seven (don't forget the Intern), and every weekend in April we will be having people come in who we would not normally get to spend so much time with. Team that with hockey games and events like wine-tastings and concerts, and Nashville weekends become very special. Busy and sleepless, but special.
If I could just find a wine vendor and a take-out BBQ spot to keep up with our entertaining demands, life would damn near be perfect two days a week.
That's what I call the sudden influx of overnight visitors, anyhow.
Back in Florida we really didn't have the room to house the many guests that travelled south to Disney or the beach. Here, the living quarters are a bit larger so that everyone who comes bunks down for the weekend and we can have fun 24 hours a day.
This past weekend we had a dozen more added to our seven (don't forget the Intern), and every weekend in April we will be having people come in who we would not normally get to spend so much time with. Team that with hockey games and events like wine-tastings and concerts, and Nashville weekends become very special. Busy and sleepless, but special.
If I could just find a wine vendor and a take-out BBQ spot to keep up with our entertaining demands, life would damn near be perfect two days a week.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Suburban Diva goes country
"Are you ever going to update your blog?"
I get that a lot.
The answer is, I guess.
I've been writing this blog since 2004 when no one even knew what a blog was, including me. It sort of started as a way to journal motherhood, life--in a publicly-censored sort of way. Then it became a bulletin board to family and friends who knew me and wanted updates into what was going on. I even started to get sponsors who weren't paying me for posts, but who invested some cash and prizes for my readers.
Lately, though, it doesn't do much except attract visitors who want to know what Kenny Chesney looks like without a hat. (That's one of my top Google searches.)
You're welcome.
I'm lucky that I get to journal motherhood over on Whoa Momma a few times a week. I get to talk about my love of books in the World Of Westchase. I get to post my column there and still on my own site which I love. I keep up with people I know on Facebook and email. That leaves this blog as a very lonely bandwidth collector of late.
As blogging has evolved, so has my family. It's not always easy to write of the latest happenings in a public forum without potentially embarrassing or disclosing something that has no business being out there. I leave out 98% of real life things (shocking that I do have a filter) because that's just how it needs to be. And that's okay.
So I started really thinking of what the next step is in this blog, and I realized that the one topic I don't really have an outlet for at the moment is this move--this town--and life as a suburban mouse who goes to the country.
Which is not to make fun of Nashvillians or Tennesseans at all. That would somehow elevate Florida to a position of normalcy which is absolutely the biggest lie ever, because Florida is the capital of Crazy, USA. No, in fact, everywhere I've ever lived or visited has its own unique form of crazy and part of thechallengefun is navigating through native crazy with foreign straight jackets. So I think I'll focus on this place for a while.
I think all I've really talked about our new home is the weather, which is technically crazy, but redundant after a while. (Florida, you win on that score.) And since the weather is breaking a little (still was 44 yesterday which felt like -28 when you're ready to see tulips) there is a lot more to talk about.
Like driving 10 miles to find a gas station. Or our never-ending quest to find the best BBQ. (Coincidentally also in a gas station.) Or road-kill. (On the way to the gas station.)
And even stalking country music stars.
Hat or no hat.
So meet me in Nashville for the next few weeks. I'd love to show you around.
I get that a lot.
The answer is, I guess.
I've been writing this blog since 2004 when no one even knew what a blog was, including me. It sort of started as a way to journal motherhood, life--in a publicly-censored sort of way. Then it became a bulletin board to family and friends who knew me and wanted updates into what was going on. I even started to get sponsors who weren't paying me for posts, but who invested some cash and prizes for my readers.
Lately, though, it doesn't do much except attract visitors who want to know what Kenny Chesney looks like without a hat. (That's one of my top Google searches.)
You're welcome.
I'm lucky that I get to journal motherhood over on Whoa Momma a few times a week. I get to talk about my love of books in the World Of Westchase. I get to post my column there and still on my own site which I love. I keep up with people I know on Facebook and email. That leaves this blog as a very lonely bandwidth collector of late.
As blogging has evolved, so has my family. It's not always easy to write of the latest happenings in a public forum without potentially embarrassing or disclosing something that has no business being out there. I leave out 98% of real life things (shocking that I do have a filter) because that's just how it needs to be. And that's okay.
So I started really thinking of what the next step is in this blog, and I realized that the one topic I don't really have an outlet for at the moment is this move--this town--and life as a suburban mouse who goes to the country.
Which is not to make fun of Nashvillians or Tennesseans at all. That would somehow elevate Florida to a position of normalcy which is absolutely the biggest lie ever, because Florida is the capital of Crazy, USA. No, in fact, everywhere I've ever lived or visited has its own unique form of crazy and part of the
I think all I've really talked about our new home is the weather, which is technically crazy, but redundant after a while. (Florida, you win on that score.) And since the weather is breaking a little (still was 44 yesterday which felt like -28 when you're ready to see tulips) there is a lot more to talk about.
Like driving 10 miles to find a gas station. Or our never-ending quest to find the best BBQ. (Coincidentally also in a gas station.) Or road-kill. (On the way to the gas station.)
And even stalking country music stars.
Hat or no hat.
So meet me in Nashville for the next few weeks. I'd love to show you around.
Monday, March 14, 2011
It's DST o'clock, do you know where your sanity is?
How are you doing, Buddy?
I’m just checking in on this Monday morning after Daylight Savings Time to see how you’re holding up? It looks like that lost hour of sleep was a bit hard on you. No offense.
The important thing to keep in mind is that you survived. The initial cardiac arrest threat when you woke up in the middle of the night instead of your normal too early alarm has passed now, so you can just skip right to the being pissed off part. Hit the snooze button just a few more times out of spite, and then make a big pot of coffee while scowling. It’s perfectly normal.
I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to move those clocks ahead now. All of them. Even that one that you keep hopefully on the real time so that every time you look at it you can remember why you feel so crappy. It will be difficult, but it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off.
And no, you can’t move to Indiana or Arizona where they don’t participate in Daylight Savings Time. You’ve got responsibilities here--a life--albeit an hour shorter one. Besides, you don’t want to be a contrarian. People in those states are just sleep-deprived from the fall when we all got our extra hour.
Look at the bright side. (That won’t come until about 11:00 a.m. when the sun finally comes up, but still.) You can use this as a perfect excuse to your boss, teacher, spouse or IRS agent. “I was going to do ___________ last night about 2 am, but the government took that time away from me so I couldn’t. It’s a conspiracy.” Because it totally is.
No one ever said messing with the space time continuum was going to be easy. Did you think Christopher Lloyd looked like that before he invented the flux capacitor? It’s an ugly, messy business. There’s bound to be some sleeplessness with that. Just ask February 29th.
Wow, this is worse than I thought. Look, I wasn’t going to mention this but since you’re so bad off just think--only 244 more days until it ends! Fall Back! You can sleep in again in November.
I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Ok, how about a joke to cheer you up?
Knock knock.
This is the part you say, Who’s there?
Spring ahead.
Spring ahead who?
Some spring a heads are going to roll if I don’t get a nap soon.
You’re right. That wasn’t funny.
At all.
But with all of my nonsense combined with that extra hour we’ve been grieving, it’s almost Tuesday.
You can repay me by doing the same for me tomorrow when I’m still running late and sleep-deprived and realize the joke is on me.
Happy DST.
©2011 Tracey Henry
Here’s where to send your support tomorrow. Divamail@SuburbanDiva.com
I’m just checking in on this Monday morning after Daylight Savings Time to see how you’re holding up? It looks like that lost hour of sleep was a bit hard on you. No offense.
The important thing to keep in mind is that you survived. The initial cardiac arrest threat when you woke up in the middle of the night instead of your normal too early alarm has passed now, so you can just skip right to the being pissed off part. Hit the snooze button just a few more times out of spite, and then make a big pot of coffee while scowling. It’s perfectly normal.
I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to move those clocks ahead now. All of them. Even that one that you keep hopefully on the real time so that every time you look at it you can remember why you feel so crappy. It will be difficult, but it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off.
And no, you can’t move to Indiana or Arizona where they don’t participate in Daylight Savings Time. You’ve got responsibilities here--a life--albeit an hour shorter one. Besides, you don’t want to be a contrarian. People in those states are just sleep-deprived from the fall when we all got our extra hour.
Look at the bright side. (That won’t come until about 11:00 a.m. when the sun finally comes up, but still.) You can use this as a perfect excuse to your boss, teacher, spouse or IRS agent. “I was going to do ___________ last night about 2 am, but the government took that time away from me so I couldn’t. It’s a conspiracy.” Because it totally is.
No one ever said messing with the space time continuum was going to be easy. Did you think Christopher Lloyd looked like that before he invented the flux capacitor? It’s an ugly, messy business. There’s bound to be some sleeplessness with that. Just ask February 29th.
Wow, this is worse than I thought. Look, I wasn’t going to mention this but since you’re so bad off just think--only 244 more days until it ends! Fall Back! You can sleep in again in November.
I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Ok, how about a joke to cheer you up?
Knock knock.
This is the part you say, Who’s there?
Spring ahead.
Spring ahead who?
Some spring a heads are going to roll if I don’t get a nap soon.
You’re right. That wasn’t funny.
At all.
But with all of my nonsense combined with that extra hour we’ve been grieving, it’s almost Tuesday.
You can repay me by doing the same for me tomorrow when I’m still running late and sleep-deprived and realize the joke is on me.
Happy DST.
©2011 Tracey Henry
Here’s where to send your support tomorrow. Divamail@SuburbanDiva.com
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Coincidence?
The after effects of a concussion are remarkably similar to normal teenaged behavior.
Just sayin'.
Just sayin'.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
The fun of fundraising
File this somewhere between "I should know better by now," and "Guaranteed to offend everyone I know," but I am about to get loud over Silent Auctions.
Unless you're a native Aborigine (and then the word is gabi gabi tok tok, meaning, "to screw your fellow villager",) you’re certainly familiar with the Silent Auction fundraising model. Strategically located near the open bar, several donated goods and services are lined up with bid sheets below. The highest bid at the end of the evening "wins" that particular item, and all of the proceeds go to that charity.
I am not singling out any organization or abused chairperson--everyone does it the same way and if I criticize too much, I run the risk of being saddled with the hapless job of coming up with a new method. Which in my case would most certainly involve several high interest loans, a border run, and a guy with no last name who always refers to himself in the third person. This is probably not what the founders of the Orphaned Baby Alpacas had envisioned for their 50's night at the Holiday Inn. So we are all stuck with this this auction-based form of fundraising for the very far future.
We've recently attended a number of these events, and from what I remember of them, they are a unique experience. The best part of any auction is that you don't "buy" anything, you "win" it. Curiously, the "winner" is the guy that paid the most money for crap he didn’t want in the first place. This would be the purchasing equivalent of finding an item at a store that you had no interest in, waiting for it to go off-sale, and then checking back three or four times to make sure you had paid the highest inflated value. Sort of like shopping at Pottery Barn.
If you insert the phrase, "But it's for a good cause," in front of any item at an auction, you can rationalize your way through the most ridiculous purchases. If you punctuate the sentence with another glass of punch, you will end up to be more charitable than Mother Theresa. As you probably have guessed, I have recently "won" a set of cookware for a good cause. And because "it goes to charity," a teeth whitening session from a local dentist. And a Cracker Barrel rocking chair with a bunch of signatures on it. And a leaf blower. And eleventy-billion Legos. And a case of off-brand Riesling. And a gift certificate for a car wash. And a decorative clock. And buyer's remorse. And a hangover.
But it was for a good cause, right? RIGHT?!!??!
And so will my defense fund when I break in to the Orphaned Baby Alpaca Headquarters and steal my check back.
Give generously.
Unless you're a native Aborigine (and then the word is gabi gabi tok tok, meaning, "to screw your fellow villager",) you’re certainly familiar with the Silent Auction fundraising model. Strategically located near the open bar, several donated goods and services are lined up with bid sheets below. The highest bid at the end of the evening "wins" that particular item, and all of the proceeds go to that charity.
I am not singling out any organization or abused chairperson--everyone does it the same way and if I criticize too much, I run the risk of being saddled with the hapless job of coming up with a new method. Which in my case would most certainly involve several high interest loans, a border run, and a guy with no last name who always refers to himself in the third person. This is probably not what the founders of the Orphaned Baby Alpacas had envisioned for their 50's night at the Holiday Inn. So we are all stuck with this this auction-based form of fundraising for the very far future.
We've recently attended a number of these events, and from what I remember of them, they are a unique experience. The best part of any auction is that you don't "buy" anything, you "win" it. Curiously, the "winner" is the guy that paid the most money for crap he didn’t want in the first place. This would be the purchasing equivalent of finding an item at a store that you had no interest in, waiting for it to go off-sale, and then checking back three or four times to make sure you had paid the highest inflated value. Sort of like shopping at Pottery Barn.
If you insert the phrase, "But it's for a good cause," in front of any item at an auction, you can rationalize your way through the most ridiculous purchases. If you punctuate the sentence with another glass of punch, you will end up to be more charitable than Mother Theresa. As you probably have guessed, I have recently "won" a set of cookware for a good cause. And because "it goes to charity," a teeth whitening session from a local dentist. And a Cracker Barrel rocking chair with a bunch of signatures on it. And a leaf blower. And eleventy-billion Legos. And a case of off-brand Riesling. And a gift certificate for a car wash. And a decorative clock. And buyer's remorse. And a hangover.
But it was for a good cause, right? RIGHT?!!??!
And so will my defense fund when I break in to the Orphaned Baby Alpaca Headquarters and steal my check back.
Give generously.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
My fresh hell as a mother
LACROSSE!
Twice the hits and half the pads as hockey.
Two minutes into his very first game and a grade 2 concussion.
I can't believe I'm saying this--but hockey is a gentlemen's sport.
Twice the hits and half the pads as hockey.
Two minutes into his very first game and a grade 2 concussion.
I can't believe I'm saying this--but hockey is a gentlemen's sport.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
The Intern Returns...
I don't think we can technically call him the Intern anymore since he's had full time (and salaried) employment for years now, but he'll always be the Intern around here.
And he's back!
New job, new city, but familiar living arrangements as he stays with us while he gets settled in Music City.
So we're loading up the fridge and adding a few routes to sporting events to his new landscape.
And nothing says welcome like a murky fish tank, so guess what his room-warming present is?
(This fish flakes are under your pillow, Dan. Welcome to Nashville.)
And he's back!
New job, new city, but familiar living arrangements as he stays with us while he gets settled in Music City.
So we're loading up the fridge and adding a few routes to sporting events to his new landscape.
And nothing says welcome like a murky fish tank, so guess what his room-warming present is?
(This fish flakes are under your pillow, Dan. Welcome to Nashville.)
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
How to prepare for a snow storm if you live anywhere south of Lake Erie
I have exactly 4.2 minutes to pen this as I have to pick up my children early from school today due to possible snow.
True, it’s currently 65 degrees and sunny outside, but we are expecting 3/8 of an inch of snow later this evening so apparently we must have ample time to prepare. As far as I can see, this includes the following steps and complex processes.
1.) Snow must fall at a faster rate in the south than in the north, because we shut down the state long before the first flake is predicted to fall. If the front is forecasted to move in at 4:00 for example, southerners think this means by 4:02 there will be 8 feet of snow on the ground and all thoroughfares will be rendered immediately impassable.
2.) Roads probably will be rendered immediately impassable because the entire southern hemisphere shares 4 snow plows. Which means instead of actual snow removal, southern departments of transportation "brine" the roads. This mysterious and completely useless process includes salting the roads before any hint of precipitation. You still can’t drive safely on a brined road, but it does cure a mean corned beef.
3.) Do not buy anything useful for impending storms like snow shovels, road salt or margarita mix--buy bananas. Bananas have scientifically unproven and unfounded effects on all weather events, but make us feel better, much like a meteorological magnet bracelet that golfers wear or pajama jeans.
(If you can’t find bananas at your grocery store, [and you won’t because they will be sold out] you may substitute milk and/or Wonder Bread.)
4.) Be sure to drop the words black ice in a hushed tone at least 10 times in every conversation. When you question why school is closed for the 8th day in a row when we’re mowing the lawn, wait for the look of horror and the words black ice spat out to you like an exorcism. Just for fun, say, "But it’s above freezing outside." In response, get the sneered, "But that’s what makes it so dangerous, you can’t see black ice. Moron." Answer, "Then how do you know it’s there?"
5.) Lose all the new friends you worked so hard to make in the fall.
6.) For every inch of snow predicted, the negative amount will actually accumulate.
7.) On the day of the anticipated storm, watch for the school closings reeling along the bottom of your television screen. This is actually a complete waste of time, because if one school closes, every single learning institution and dry cleaner will follow within the hour.
(Except my son’s elementary school that must have administrators from Nunavut and won’t cancel school unless the students’ desks are frozen shut and they used up all the butane on freeing up the chalkboard erasers.)
8.) And speaking of watching television, the Channel 5 doppler radar in Nashville, Tennessee has the prognosticating capabilities of Nostradmous. It is capable of crippling an entire municipal government at the mere mention of the white stuff weeks before in a 5 p.m. newscast. People unwaveringly entrust their entire lives to what that computer graphic depicts. It can not only predict snow, but the next 10 Super Bowl and Idol winners. (Which kind of begs the question why aren't the folks at NOAA tuned into this super, southern-exclusive technology? Or at least the KGB and ESPN.)
9.) If any snow actually makes it to the ground, it will certainly melt before the 4th hour of the Today Show. After your kids make mud men, mud-gloos and have mudball fights, you may want to rethink that big pot of chili served in front of the fire for dinner. Serve popsicles and ice water instead.
10.) Make banana bread for dessert.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
First attempt to take over the world. Or at least North America
We are now in our 3rd day of hosting our Canadian exchange students, and I think it's going fairly well.
We really don't have a whole lot of time together--during the day they are busy seeing the sights of Nashville and eating at chain restaurants, and I really only have bonding time to and from hockey games. So far we've discusses the crazy large amount of churches here and the local liquor laws, which I swear they initiated, not me. (Not appropriate for 11th graders.) I have tried to steer the conversation toward country music star stalking and pushing my own personal agenda to take over the world.
And then I realized I had no such agenda but I didn't want to miss this once in a life time opportunity so I made one up: McPudding and Ordinal Numbers.
First off, I've noticed they don't use ordinal numbers often so I've helpfully put them in bold throughout this post to show how helpful they are in verbal and written expression. You're welcome, Canada.
Secondly, If you don't know the McPudding story basically my husband orders the fictitious McPudding at every McDonald's he visits in hopes to get it on the menu. He believes it is his legacy for our children. This drives me insane since it requires an extra long explanation at the drive-thru and fits of laughter from the back seat. So I thought that perhaps our Canadian friends could take up this cause and then it would truly be a global effort.
But then I realized "pudding" means something totally different in traditional, non-American English cuisine and has precious little to do with Bill Cosby and more to do with Yorkshire and figgy.
Which is totally gross and not at all in keeping with the true spirit of the McPudding movement.
So it looks like McPudding will eventually remain a strictly state-side national treasure.
You're welcome, Canada.
We really don't have a whole lot of time together--during the day they are busy seeing the sights of Nashville and eating at chain restaurants, and I really only have bonding time to and from hockey games. So far we've discusses the crazy large amount of churches here and the local liquor laws, which I swear they initiated, not me. (Not appropriate for 11th graders.) I have tried to steer the conversation toward country music star stalking and pushing my own personal agenda to take over the world.
And then I realized I had no such agenda but I didn't want to miss this once in a life time opportunity so I made one up: McPudding and Ordinal Numbers.
First off, I've noticed they don't use ordinal numbers often so I've helpfully put them in bold throughout this post to show how helpful they are in verbal and written expression. You're welcome, Canada.
Secondly, If you don't know the McPudding story basically my husband orders the fictitious McPudding at every McDonald's he visits in hopes to get it on the menu. He believes it is his legacy for our children. This drives me insane since it requires an extra long explanation at the drive-thru and fits of laughter from the back seat. So I thought that perhaps our Canadian friends could take up this cause and then it would truly be a global effort.
But then I realized "pudding" means something totally different in traditional, non-American English cuisine and has precious little to do with Bill Cosby and more to do with Yorkshire and figgy.
Which is totally gross and not at all in keeping with the true spirit of the McPudding movement.
So it looks like McPudding will eventually remain a strictly state-side national treasure.
You're welcome, Canada.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Honey, you shouldn't have
The traditional gift for the nineteenth wedding anniversary is bronze.
My husband got me a fish tank.
He pointed to goldfish swimming in the corner, and said, “See? This one looks sort of bronze.”
I think it was more of a Ph imbalance in the tank causing the discoloration, but I digress. The point is we are not fish people. We had a brief and tragic experience with a beta we won at a carnival after which our fishing license was permanently revoked. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that my husband doesn’t know me AT ALL after two decades to warrant such an inappropriate gift. If he’s going to spend $350 on something that swims, it better be my bar tab at the pool bar at the JW Marriott.
He gave me the line, “but this is something the kids can take care of on their own,” which upon uttering hundreds of angelfish shuddered and lost their fins.
To their credit, they tried. The toddler “fed” the fish. By dumping the entire contents of the fish food bottle into the tank. This put visibility at .06 millimeters and a toxic glow emitting from the glass.
So we cleaned it. And by we, I mean me. Removing the ceramic Spongebob housing which must have recently gone co-op since all of the fish hid inside the pineapple under the sea, I proceeded to empty, rinse, and repeat before putting the fish back into the tank, ignoring my instinct to put them out of my misery by flushing them into the Cumberland river.
While the water was somewhat improved, it was still slightly gauzy, so I decided to buy another fish--one that is biologically engineered to clean tanks such as this. Choking back the vomit that had formed in the back of my mouth at the mere thought of this, I went back to the fish store and got said cleaner fish. And another bottle of food flakes.
The check-out girl said, “You have goldfish, eh?”
“Yes. Very dirty goldfish.”
She nodded in agreement. “You know they go a lot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, defecate? Goldfish defecate a lot more than other fish.”
Another choke back of bile. “Really? I thought maybe mine just had overactive colons--I was going to tell them to lay off the bran muffins.”
After scolding me for feeding my fish baked goods, I went home and dumped the cleaner fish into the dump. Of, ahem, dump.
A more cynical wife might say that my husband got me scat for our anniversary, but I’d like to think it was unintentional.
Besides, with next year being our twentieth and the traditional gift of china, I don’t want him buying me a panda.
We all know what they do in the woods.
(Cross-posted at Suburbandiva.com)
My husband got me a fish tank.
He pointed to goldfish swimming in the corner, and said, “See? This one looks sort of bronze.”
I think it was more of a Ph imbalance in the tank causing the discoloration, but I digress. The point is we are not fish people. We had a brief and tragic experience with a beta we won at a carnival after which our fishing license was permanently revoked. I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that my husband doesn’t know me AT ALL after two decades to warrant such an inappropriate gift. If he’s going to spend $350 on something that swims, it better be my bar tab at the pool bar at the JW Marriott.
He gave me the line, “but this is something the kids can take care of on their own,” which upon uttering hundreds of angelfish shuddered and lost their fins.
To their credit, they tried. The toddler “fed” the fish. By dumping the entire contents of the fish food bottle into the tank. This put visibility at .06 millimeters and a toxic glow emitting from the glass.
So we cleaned it. And by we, I mean me. Removing the ceramic Spongebob housing which must have recently gone co-op since all of the fish hid inside the pineapple under the sea, I proceeded to empty, rinse, and repeat before putting the fish back into the tank, ignoring my instinct to put them out of my misery by flushing them into the Cumberland river.
While the water was somewhat improved, it was still slightly gauzy, so I decided to buy another fish--one that is biologically engineered to clean tanks such as this. Choking back the vomit that had formed in the back of my mouth at the mere thought of this, I went back to the fish store and got said cleaner fish. And another bottle of food flakes.
The check-out girl said, “You have goldfish, eh?”
“Yes. Very dirty goldfish.”
She nodded in agreement. “You know they go a lot.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, defecate? Goldfish defecate a lot more than other fish.”
Another choke back of bile. “Really? I thought maybe mine just had overactive colons--I was going to tell them to lay off the bran muffins.”
After scolding me for feeding my fish baked goods, I went home and dumped the cleaner fish into the dump. Of, ahem, dump.
A more cynical wife might say that my husband got me scat for our anniversary, but I’d like to think it was unintentional.
Besides, with next year being our twentieth and the traditional gift of china, I don’t want him buying me a panda.
We all know what they do in the woods.
(Cross-posted at Suburbandiva.com)
Friday, January 28, 2011
Our foreign exchange students. Ish.
In the same vein as when people tell me they're going on a "mission trip" to Paris or Tahiti, we're hosting two foreign exchange students.
From CANADA!
Only it's not really an exchange, because I'm not sending anyone. And they technically aren't students since they aren't going to school here, they are playing hockey. And it doesn't last a semester, only 5 days.
So really it's just driving around high school hockey players for a week and washing their jerseys.
Which I do everyday, so that's really not foreign in any sense of the word.
Which means this experience isn't nearly as exotic as it was when I began this post, so never mind.
From CANADA!
Only it's not really an exchange, because I'm not sending anyone. And they technically aren't students since they aren't going to school here, they are playing hockey. And it doesn't last a semester, only 5 days.
So really it's just driving around high school hockey players for a week and washing their jerseys.
Which I do everyday, so that's really not foreign in any sense of the word.
Which means this experience isn't nearly as exotic as it was when I began this post, so never mind.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I write the songs that make the whole world sneeze
Because I had the unmitigated gaul to post this little diddy on not knowing the difference between the cold and the flu, the germ gods decided to give me both illnesses back to back.
I hate the germ gods.
On my two day hiatus in between the sickies, we managed to make it down to Tampa for a concert and for some sun fun. While I don't think I'm much of a Barry Manilow fan, I am a fan of the friends I got to spend the weekend with. I miss them and how much they make me laugh.
I would write here that I am back at my lame attempts to getting on a schedule and in a Tennessee routine, but I think we all know that's a big lie and I could sue myself for libel. We've had more snow days, another couple of trips planned and more visitors on the way. Life is day-to-day, hour-by-hour, snow fall to snow fall, and germ god blasphemy to germ god blasphemy.
I hate the germ gods.
On my two day hiatus in between the sickies, we managed to make it down to Tampa for a concert and for some sun fun. While I don't think I'm much of a Barry Manilow fan, I am a fan of the friends I got to spend the weekend with. I miss them and how much they make me laugh.
I would write here that I am back at my lame attempts to getting on a schedule and in a Tennessee routine, but I think we all know that's a big lie and I could sue myself for libel. We've had more snow days, another couple of trips planned and more visitors on the way. Life is day-to-day, hour-by-hour, snow fall to snow fall, and germ god blasphemy to germ god blasphemy.
Friday, January 14, 2011
1001
Post 1,001 and the first of 2011. EIther I talk too much or not enough. Or a little of both.
Since last we blogged, we were invaded, partied, and were abandoned by 50 Tampaites who braved the ice and snow and snow and ice to ring in 2011 with us. It was such a wonderful week of non-stop partying, that we have yet to recover. We didn't venture out much--some hockey games and restaurants--but instead spent our days and nights hanging out old school style with games and food and drink. I don't think a more perfect week could have been planned.
They left, and we all got sick. We spent our first week back to school with varying attendance and doctor's visits, and by Friday half of us were on antibiotics and the other half was hacking away. (I wrote about that sickness here.) We took down the Christmas decorations (my least favorite job of the year) and otherwise tried to put things back in place.
We still haven't gotten back into a routine--we were hit with a few inches of snow on Monday that shut down the entire town except for my kids' schools. Seriously, on Tuesday every school in the state of Tennessee was closed and only our kids had to go to school. The public schools are still out today. I am trying to console them by explaining that they will appreciate this at the end of the year when they don't have any days to make up, but when you're staring at a snow day, all summer bets fly out the window.
And so the two weeks of 2011 are still incubating, waiting to shape up after we finish digging, thawing and straightening ourselves out.
Since last we blogged, we were invaded, partied, and were abandoned by 50 Tampaites who braved the ice and snow and snow and ice to ring in 2011 with us. It was such a wonderful week of non-stop partying, that we have yet to recover. We didn't venture out much--some hockey games and restaurants--but instead spent our days and nights hanging out old school style with games and food and drink. I don't think a more perfect week could have been planned.
They left, and we all got sick. We spent our first week back to school with varying attendance and doctor's visits, and by Friday half of us were on antibiotics and the other half was hacking away. (I wrote about that sickness here.) We took down the Christmas decorations (my least favorite job of the year) and otherwise tried to put things back in place.
We still haven't gotten back into a routine--we were hit with a few inches of snow on Monday that shut down the entire town except for my kids' schools. Seriously, on Tuesday every school in the state of Tennessee was closed and only our kids had to go to school. The public schools are still out today. I am trying to console them by explaining that they will appreciate this at the end of the year when they don't have any days to make up, but when you're staring at a snow day, all summer bets fly out the window.
And so the two weeks of 2011 are still incubating, waiting to shape up after we finish digging, thawing and straightening ourselves out.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Our first country Christmas
Relatively speaking, we didn't have any relatives over Christmas, so it was a fairly quiet one for us. Either that, or I'm just used to our family's noise...
Christmas Eve started with 4:00 Mass with the rest of the greater Nashville area. Although we managed to get 6 seats together, we did have to watch and hear the news of our dear Savior's birth via closed-circuit television.
Afterward, we headed over to P.F. Chang's because as Matty said, "Nothing says Christmas like Chinese food." but in Tennessee on Christmas Eve, you're not getting a whole lot of open dining choices. But it turned out to be a beautiful and delicious meal, and absolutely perfect to be all together enjoying our first Christmas in our new town.
As we were leaving, the rain turned into the most beautiful snow--the frosty beginnings of Nashville's first white Christmas in 17 years.
By this time, Norad (the best website EVER) reported that Santa was in North AMerica and we had just enough time to get cookies ready, The Night Before Christmas read, and the little ones in bed. Not that they stayed there--the girls stayed up after midnight which made it a particularly late evening for the elves. (The upside is that I got Sean addicted to my new television guilty pleasure: Clean House.)
We got up a few minutes later as the kids rustled up at 6, and then the next few hours weleisurely tore open our gifts and enjoyed our day in our p.j.'s. Santa was very good to us--even bringing us a "golf cart," which will have to be renamed since we won't be playing golf in it. Naps by the fire followed by dinner of prime rib, Yorkshire pudding and my first homemade Yule log finished off the day. It snowed and was a perfect Christmas.
It's a good thing we got all of that quiet out of the way, because starting tomorrow, 50 of our Florida friends invade the Volunteer State for some New Year's celebrations.
I can't wait.
Christmas Eve started with 4:00 Mass with the rest of the greater Nashville area. Although we managed to get 6 seats together, we did have to watch and hear the news of our dear Savior's birth via closed-circuit television.
Afterward, we headed over to P.F. Chang's because as Matty said, "Nothing says Christmas like Chinese food." but in Tennessee on Christmas Eve, you're not getting a whole lot of open dining choices. But it turned out to be a beautiful and delicious meal, and absolutely perfect to be all together enjoying our first Christmas in our new town.
As we were leaving, the rain turned into the most beautiful snow--the frosty beginnings of Nashville's first white Christmas in 17 years.
By this time, Norad (the best website EVER) reported that Santa was in North AMerica and we had just enough time to get cookies ready, The Night Before Christmas read, and the little ones in bed. Not that they stayed there--the girls stayed up after midnight which made it a particularly late evening for the elves. (The upside is that I got Sean addicted to my new television guilty pleasure: Clean House.)
We got up a few minutes later as the kids rustled up at 6, and then the next few hours we
It's a good thing we got all of that quiet out of the way, because starting tomorrow, 50 of our Florida friends invade the Volunteer State for some New Year's celebrations.
I can't wait.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
In case you missed my column today...
Although I don't exactly plan it this way, it seems that I am forever destined to be a last- minute shopper at Christmastime.
Instead of complaining, I've resigned myself to my fate and now look at the glass of eggnog as half-full.
So I share with you the Top 6 Reasons Procrastinating Shoppers Rule:
1.) Camaraderie. There's nothing like bonding with other last-minute folks. Everyone is so joyful on December 23rd, it's like one big CheerFest at the register at Lowe's, we even give each other special waves in the parking lot while searching for a spot. Just yesterday as a kindly old man and I reached for the last Shrek Chia Pet on the shelf, he mumbled something about me being similar to his sainted (and apparently promiscuous) mother. The holidays are all about family.
2.) It's more polite. Gift-giving becomes a kinder, gentler process when you're dealing with limited selections. I don't see Uncle Albert as the 4XL guy he is--I like to look at the inner-Albert and get him that reindeer sweater in a boy’s medium.
3.) Creativity. Anyone can fill a gift list from a major retailer. But it takes an industrious soul to buy presents for the whole family at 7-11. (Those WWE Slurpee cups are refillable and collectible, Grandma. You’re welcome.)
4.) Does every holiday tradition have to be taken so literally? I mean who's to say that figgy pudding isn't a suspicious-looking Snack Pack at the gas station and that among the various meats in Spam Christmas goose isn't one of them?
5.) To keep the balance of the universe in check. While the annoyingly prepared are shopping at 3 am on Black Friday for 98% off the hottest toys of the season, I'm shopping at 11pm on Christmas Eve paying double for the crap no one wanted. It's the circle of life or something like that.
6.) It's more eco-friendly. There is no such thing as a giftbox for your purchase after December 1st since those have long run out. In a pinch I have been known to wrap socks in Frosted Flake boxes and Snuggies in Ziploc bags. It’s my gift to Mother Earth.
To my fellow procrastinators: Merry Christmas. To all those who have finished their shopping and are enjoying this week relaxing before a fire?
Here’s that special parking lot wave.
©2010 Tracey Henry
(And in case you also missed some updates on Whoa Momma.
Instead of complaining, I've resigned myself to my fate and now look at the glass of eggnog as half-full.
So I share with you the Top 6 Reasons Procrastinating Shoppers Rule:
1.) Camaraderie. There's nothing like bonding with other last-minute folks. Everyone is so joyful on December 23rd, it's like one big CheerFest at the register at Lowe's, we even give each other special waves in the parking lot while searching for a spot. Just yesterday as a kindly old man and I reached for the last Shrek Chia Pet on the shelf, he mumbled something about me being similar to his sainted (and apparently promiscuous) mother. The holidays are all about family.
2.) It's more polite. Gift-giving becomes a kinder, gentler process when you're dealing with limited selections. I don't see Uncle Albert as the 4XL guy he is--I like to look at the inner-Albert and get him that reindeer sweater in a boy’s medium.
3.) Creativity. Anyone can fill a gift list from a major retailer. But it takes an industrious soul to buy presents for the whole family at 7-11. (Those WWE Slurpee cups are refillable and collectible, Grandma. You’re welcome.)
4.) Does every holiday tradition have to be taken so literally? I mean who's to say that figgy pudding isn't a suspicious-looking Snack Pack at the gas station and that among the various meats in Spam Christmas goose isn't one of them?
5.) To keep the balance of the universe in check. While the annoyingly prepared are shopping at 3 am on Black Friday for 98% off the hottest toys of the season, I'm shopping at 11pm on Christmas Eve paying double for the crap no one wanted. It's the circle of life or something like that.
6.) It's more eco-friendly. There is no such thing as a giftbox for your purchase after December 1st since those have long run out. In a pinch I have been known to wrap socks in Frosted Flake boxes and Snuggies in Ziploc bags. It’s my gift to Mother Earth.
To my fellow procrastinators: Merry Christmas. To all those who have finished their shopping and are enjoying this week relaxing before a fire?
Here’s that special parking lot wave.
©2010 Tracey Henry
(And in case you also missed some updates on Whoa Momma.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Snow Days
We had our first of many last week. On Monday, we got hit with about 4 inches legit of snow. My kids immediately went sledding despite having not much snow, not much hill and not much sled. It was fun nonetheless.
We played in it, and then came inside to hot cocoa and cookie baking. It was really beautiful, cozy and very Norman Rockwell-esque.
Until you had to drive in it.
Now I am a salt-seasoned driver. I learned to drive on the potholed roads of lower Michigan--a slippery, slushy, snowy mess nine months out of the year. You can't get your driver's license there without knowing how to successfully navigate icy roads and scrape your windshield with a cassette cover.
I had this.
Until I realized that the state of Tennessee doesn't own snow plows. Or salt trucks. No, the only tool they have in their snow-removal arsenal is the sun, with the hope it melts the white stuff on the ground by rush hour.
It doesn't.
Tennesseans are quick to tell you that this is out-of-the ordinary weather for them--that it almost NEVER snows here at all, and if it does, it certainly never sticks.
Tennesseans are liars. Because although they are really wimpy about the snow, they were not surprised by it. And the hardware store on the corner sold snow shovels.
I rest my case.
We played in it, and then came inside to hot cocoa and cookie baking. It was really beautiful, cozy and very Norman Rockwell-esque.
Until you had to drive in it.
Now I am a salt-seasoned driver. I learned to drive on the potholed roads of lower Michigan--a slippery, slushy, snowy mess nine months out of the year. You can't get your driver's license there without knowing how to successfully navigate icy roads and scrape your windshield with a cassette cover.
I had this.
Until I realized that the state of Tennessee doesn't own snow plows. Or salt trucks. No, the only tool they have in their snow-removal arsenal is the sun, with the hope it melts the white stuff on the ground by rush hour.
It doesn't.
Tennesseans are quick to tell you that this is out-of-the ordinary weather for them--that it almost NEVER snows here at all, and if it does, it certainly never sticks.
Tennesseans are liars. Because although they are really wimpy about the snow, they were not surprised by it. And the hardware store on the corner sold snow shovels.
I rest my case.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
I lied
Okay, I suck at plans.
But I have a good excuse. We just finished a week's worth of company and 10 overnight guests for Thanksgiving.
I'm not complaining--you know I love Thanksgiving and I love people around to help ease into this new life, but I won't lie--I'm zausted. And I have yet to find my groove.
But I'm trying.
We actually got a lot of the Christmas decorations up this weekend, which was a little frustrating to unpack more stuff while re-packing up some of the things I just unpacked, but what are you going to do? It's Christmas.
I'm finding that everything takes me twice as long to do. First off, I still don't know where everything is supposed to go, so picking up is a daylong chore. I have a grocery store, but I have to backtrack through the aisles because it isn't laid out the same as my Publix at home. I get lost a lot.
And the stairs are kicking my ass. Firming up my calves, but kicking my ass.
If it sounds like I'm whining, but I'm really not. I'm just still searching for that groove thing and I'm hoping it's not up or downstairs....
But I have a good excuse. We just finished a week's worth of company and 10 overnight guests for Thanksgiving.
I'm not complaining--you know I love Thanksgiving and I love people around to help ease into this new life, but I won't lie--I'm zausted. And I have yet to find my groove.
But I'm trying.
We actually got a lot of the Christmas decorations up this weekend, which was a little frustrating to unpack more stuff while re-packing up some of the things I just unpacked, but what are you going to do? It's Christmas.
I'm finding that everything takes me twice as long to do. First off, I still don't know where everything is supposed to go, so picking up is a daylong chore. I have a grocery store, but I have to backtrack through the aisles because it isn't laid out the same as my Publix at home. I get lost a lot.
And the stairs are kicking my ass. Firming up my calves, but kicking my ass.
If it sounds like I'm whining, but I'm really not. I'm just still searching for that groove thing and I'm hoping it's not up or downstairs....
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thanksgiving week!
In honor of Thanksgiving, my most favorite day of the year, and the simultaneous celebration of no more workers in my house for a little while, I'm dedicating this week's blog to passing on helpful tips to help you celebrate this week in style, comfort and maybe some free gifts.
So, Monday's Blog Deal of the Day comes from SkinMedica, and it's a special Friends and Family coupon code you can use for Black Friday specials and on to December 1st. I am an online Black Friday and Cyber Monday shopper, so this is my perfect deal.
Use Friends and Family Coupon* Code: FF25 to save 25% on your purchases at SkinCareRx, and start giving to friends, or yourself.
So, Monday's Blog Deal of the Day comes from SkinMedica, and it's a special Friends and Family coupon code you can use for Black Friday specials and on to December 1st. I am an online Black Friday and Cyber Monday shopper, so this is my perfect deal.
Use Friends and Family Coupon* Code: FF25 to save 25% on your purchases at SkinCareRx, and start giving to friends, or yourself.
Two Weeks
We've officially been Nashvillians for two weeks now. It's not nearly as sinister as it sounds.
We got that first week of school in, which was a big step and a successful one, I'm happy to report. I think we can all breathe a little easier now that that's over. We still need to get into a routine, but we'll get there. Stevie is already on the hockey team and feeling well, and the little ones are meeting new friends.
On the housefront, almost all of the boxes are now unpacked, and with the exception of the garage and storage rooms in the basement, pretty much set up. Tomorrow the last of the various service people come to fix the last of the broken things. God willing. No longer planning my entire day around service calls will be a much needed reprieve. It seems like that's been the agenda since August.
And next week is another fun one to look forward to. We've got tons of family coming in for Thanksgiving, and we are dining at the governor's mansion on Tuesday. I even found a babysitter so Jessie won't be swinging from chandeliers and otherwise causing an international incident.
Because that would be a little sinister for my little Nashvillian.
We got that first week of school in, which was a big step and a successful one, I'm happy to report. I think we can all breathe a little easier now that that's over. We still need to get into a routine, but we'll get there. Stevie is already on the hockey team and feeling well, and the little ones are meeting new friends.
On the housefront, almost all of the boxes are now unpacked, and with the exception of the garage and storage rooms in the basement, pretty much set up. Tomorrow the last of the various service people come to fix the last of the broken things. God willing. No longer planning my entire day around service calls will be a much needed reprieve. It seems like that's been the agenda since August.
And next week is another fun one to look forward to. We've got tons of family coming in for Thanksgiving, and we are dining at the governor's mansion on Tuesday. I even found a babysitter so Jessie won't be swinging from chandeliers and otherwise causing an international incident.
Because that would be a little sinister for my little Nashvillian.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Suburban/Urban/Rural Diva
It's a funny place where I live now.
The neighborhood couldn't be more suburban--we've got neighbors that show up with baked goods and an HOA. But we are also 10 miles from the city limits, and when I drive the kids to school I pass at least five sprawling horse farms on the way.
It's hilly--there are hills and valleys that I'm not used to in flat Florida. The colors are vibrant and not just various shades of green. And while nothing can compare to the beauty of the Gulf, it is definitely a pretty place to live. I miss the water in Florida, but in Florida I realize now that I missed the trees.
I'm trying to find my way here--literally and figuratively; but mostly literally. I like turning off the GPS which is so unhelpful at times, and just driving around getting the lay of the land. It doesn't help that every road is called something Pike, but we'll figure it out.
The kids started school yesterday, and they are all loving it so far. People are extremely friendly here, and with exception of things breaking and repairmen here every day, it's been a very nice week to get acclimated to Nashville life. I've got about 80% of the boxes unpacked, and hopefully by the end of the weekend, most things will be hung on the wall for all of the Thanksgiving guests to look at when they're eating their turkey.
The neighborhood couldn't be more suburban--we've got neighbors that show up with baked goods and an HOA. But we are also 10 miles from the city limits, and when I drive the kids to school I pass at least five sprawling horse farms on the way.
It's hilly--there are hills and valleys that I'm not used to in flat Florida. The colors are vibrant and not just various shades of green. And while nothing can compare to the beauty of the Gulf, it is definitely a pretty place to live. I miss the water in Florida, but in Florida I realize now that I missed the trees.
I'm trying to find my way here--literally and figuratively; but mostly literally. I like turning off the GPS which is so unhelpful at times, and just driving around getting the lay of the land. It doesn't help that every road is called something Pike, but we'll figure it out.
The kids started school yesterday, and they are all loving it so far. People are extremely friendly here, and with exception of things breaking and repairmen here every day, it's been a very nice week to get acclimated to Nashville life. I've got about 80% of the boxes unpacked, and hopefully by the end of the weekend, most things will be hung on the wall for all of the Thanksgiving guests to look at when they're eating their turkey.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Friends
I was having one of those really tough moving days that you know are bound to come along but still piss you off nonetheless, when a neighbor stopped by just as I spilled an entire chocolate shake in the car. She has a first grade daughter born a day after A-Dog and she brought a gift.
She said she was debating between the gourmet cupcakes and a bottle of wine.
She chose the cupcakes but said she almost picked the champagne-flavored variety.
I almost kissed her on the mouth, but didn't want to scare her off on the first day.
Maybe I could get used to this after all....
She said she was debating between the gourmet cupcakes and a bottle of wine.
She chose the cupcakes but said she almost picked the champagne-flavored variety.
I almost kissed her on the mouth, but didn't want to scare her off on the first day.
Maybe I could get used to this after all....
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Nashville
We are here.
It wasn't easy, and we are all exhausted and cold, but all are present and accounted for in Music City.
I can't begin this next chapter of entries without first acknowledging the fact that I have the world's greatest friends who made it particularly difficult to leave. I miss them already. But if any of them are reading this now and considering sending me a care package of oranges, please include slippers and Chapstick because I don't know if I'll die from scurvy or frostbite because it's freaking cold here!
And just so you know that I haven't changed in the last 48 hours since surrendering my Florida residency, you'll be pleased to know that I am still wearing my cheesy black flip flops as my footwear. Not so much out of protest, but because the movers seemed to have misplaced the box that all my shoes are packed in. Normally, I wouldn't mind these missing articles, but since it's 28 degrees here and I'm supposed to be attending the CMA's tomorrow night, I'm a little concerned. Dude, I seriously can't be walking the red carpet in the $2.50 Old Navy bin specials.
Other than that, things are going well. Ish.
I've discovered that I'm waking up before 6 every morning here, but then exhausted and ready for bed by 7:30. I also have learned that I hate unpacking as much as I hated packing, which doesn't bode well for the next couple of weeks.
The neighborhood is quiet, but we did have some visitors today which was encouraging. I'm still waiting for some homemade cookies or BBQ to show up on the doorstep.
The kids are doing well--they, too are confused on these things people use around here called "clothes" and "closed-toed shoes." It's going to be a tough adjustment.
But Jingle likes the weather. She seems to be particularly dog-like here, running in the backyard and molesting the native wildlife, including the dogs next door.
I hope to post some pictures of the sparkly events tomorrow night, but watch for me on tv. I'll be the one in flip flops and earmuffs.
It wasn't easy, and we are all exhausted and cold, but all are present and accounted for in Music City.
I can't begin this next chapter of entries without first acknowledging the fact that I have the world's greatest friends who made it particularly difficult to leave. I miss them already. But if any of them are reading this now and considering sending me a care package of oranges, please include slippers and Chapstick because I don't know if I'll die from scurvy or frostbite because it's freaking cold here!
And just so you know that I haven't changed in the last 48 hours since surrendering my Florida residency, you'll be pleased to know that I am still wearing my cheesy black flip flops as my footwear. Not so much out of protest, but because the movers seemed to have misplaced the box that all my shoes are packed in. Normally, I wouldn't mind these missing articles, but since it's 28 degrees here and I'm supposed to be attending the CMA's tomorrow night, I'm a little concerned. Dude, I seriously can't be walking the red carpet in the $2.50 Old Navy bin specials.
Other than that, things are going well. Ish.
I've discovered that I'm waking up before 6 every morning here, but then exhausted and ready for bed by 7:30. I also have learned that I hate unpacking as much as I hated packing, which doesn't bode well for the next couple of weeks.
The neighborhood is quiet, but we did have some visitors today which was encouraging. I'm still waiting for some homemade cookies or BBQ to show up on the doorstep.
The kids are doing well--they, too are confused on these things people use around here called "clothes" and "closed-toed shoes." It's going to be a tough adjustment.
But Jingle likes the weather. She seems to be particularly dog-like here, running in the backyard and molesting the native wildlife, including the dogs next door.
I hope to post some pictures of the sparkly events tomorrow night, but watch for me on tv. I'll be the one in flip flops and earmuffs.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Hello November
It's pretty sad when I leave on a post like that and then fade away.
Stevie's surgery went well. Although it wasn't what we thought, it still required the same surgery, so we are thankful we found it in time and were able to take care of it so soon.
And now, we move.
The movers are here and if I'm not typing furiously, they will pack this computer along with everything else in this house. It's amazing that it took me 3 months to pack 20 boxes, and they have my whole house boxed in 8. They are actually ahead of schedule, so we will be on the road to our new digs fairly soon.
But until then, we celebrate Stevie's 15th birthday feeling a little more humbled and much more blessed.
Happy Birthday, my Old Soul.
Stevie's surgery went well. Although it wasn't what we thought, it still required the same surgery, so we are thankful we found it in time and were able to take care of it so soon.
And now, we move.
The movers are here and if I'm not typing furiously, they will pack this computer along with everything else in this house. It's amazing that it took me 3 months to pack 20 boxes, and they have my whole house boxed in 8. They are actually ahead of schedule, so we will be on the road to our new digs fairly soon.
But until then, we celebrate Stevie's 15th birthday feeling a little more humbled and much more blessed.
Happy Birthday, my Old Soul.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
An unexpected break in the action
I'm not going to lie, yesterday was not my favorite day. But tomorrow may just top it in its craptastickness.
It seems as though Stevie's heart condition--the screaming hydra-Medusa pathway--is back, and surgery is scheduled tomorrow. Three days before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, we discovered that the WPW has returned and must be dealt with immediately.
It sort of puts things into perspective.
Things are going to get packed that shouldn't. Things are going to be disorganized for a while. I'm going to forget something somewhere, and I'll never get to all of those things on my To Do List.
Oh well.
Somehow things just got a little quieter around here just when it should be crunch time.
It seems as though Stevie's heart condition--the screaming hydra-Medusa pathway--is back, and surgery is scheduled tomorrow. Three days before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, we discovered that the WPW has returned and must be dealt with immediately.
It sort of puts things into perspective.
Things are going to get packed that shouldn't. Things are going to be disorganized for a while. I'm going to forget something somewhere, and I'll never get to all of those things on my To Do List.
Oh well.
Somehow things just got a little quieter around here just when it should be crunch time.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Mom's Breakfast Club
In the midst of all of the packing, I took a fast break. Or rather, a breakfast with my friends.
Kellogg treated us to a breakfast last week, and it certainly was a treat. I made several of the recipes on their website, and seven friends shared a morning talking. Mostly about how crazy our mornings are even when we’re not in the midst of a move, and how no one ever raves about how smoothly morning routines are when you’re constantly on the go. We discussed nutrition and food in general and received a lot of great tips from Kellogg and pretty awesome goody bags as well.
You can read about all of their tips here, but a couple highlights from our party included:
~If your child doesn’t like milk, try a granola parfait with lowfat yogurt and fresh fruit. This is one of Amy’s favorites.
~While breakfast may be the most important meal of the day, we often have cereal after dinner on nights when we ate early and the kids are still looking for something substantial and nutritious to eat.
~For a quick on the go breakfast, don’t discount muffins. If you make them yourself, you can control what goes in them. These blueberry-bran were particularly yummy.
So love your cereal! We sure did.
(More photos to follow after I resolve my never-ending camera issues. With yet another new camera. With new issues.)
Friday, October 15, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tampa friends: If my house is nominated, I will hunt you down like a dogdown
Do you know of a house with a decorating theme gone wild? A room with an overboard motif or idea carried too far? A hobby or collection that has taken over?
If you know someone in need of a style intervention, you can anonymously nominate them and their room run awry for a surprise makeover.
The Style Network show, “Tacky House,” starring celebrity designer Thom Filicia, is looking for Tampa area rooms to feature on upcoming episodes. Last season, the design team tackled attacking leopard prints, overgrown florals and Hawaii Five-No!
For more information, email the show at castingfortv@yahoo.com, and help streamline someone’s style.
(Pick a friend with a crazy decorating-style but with a good sense of humor, too.)
If you know someone in need of a style intervention, you can anonymously nominate them and their room run awry for a surprise makeover.
The Style Network show, “Tacky House,” starring celebrity designer Thom Filicia, is looking for Tampa area rooms to feature on upcoming episodes. Last season, the design team tackled attacking leopard prints, overgrown florals and Hawaii Five-No!
For more information, email the show at castingfortv@yahoo.com, and help streamline someone’s style.
(Pick a friend with a crazy decorating-style but with a good sense of humor, too.)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
When do the handprints on the walls and juice box stains on the carpet get moved in?
I am standing here in the new house. Standing, because there is no place to sit yet.
It is remarkably empty, and the quiet isn't something I'm used to nor particularly like all that much.
As I spend a few hours here getting things ready like phones, cable and locks changed--I'm trying to get to know the house. There's things that I love--the double oven that looks as though it's never been used, the plantation shutters on every window that I like to open to let in more light, and all of the beautiful trees that frame the backyard.
I still hate the paint colors, but that's an easy fix scheduled for next week, and soon there will be more white noise coming from the televisions and the phone ringing. The kids are going to absolutely love all of the places they can spread out to play--it is party ready.
But the biggest flaw I realize as my footsteps echo around the walls, is that it needs to be filled up with kids. Our kids. We need to complete this move and get up here because this isn't going to be a home until they get here and we're in making new messes together.
It is remarkably empty, and the quiet isn't something I'm used to nor particularly like all that much.
As I spend a few hours here getting things ready like phones, cable and locks changed--I'm trying to get to know the house. There's things that I love--the double oven that looks as though it's never been used, the plantation shutters on every window that I like to open to let in more light, and all of the beautiful trees that frame the backyard.
I still hate the paint colors, but that's an easy fix scheduled for next week, and soon there will be more white noise coming from the televisions and the phone ringing. The kids are going to absolutely love all of the places they can spread out to play--it is party ready.
But the biggest flaw I realize as my footsteps echo around the walls, is that it needs to be filled up with kids. Our kids. We need to complete this move and get up here because this isn't going to be a home until they get here and we're in making new messes together.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
We pause in the moving preparations to meet "Jessica"
Of the thousands of details I have taken on to get our move off smoothly in less than a month, number 407 was to bring Jingle to the vet. We were woefully behind on shots, and I needed to get her a prescription for happy pills for our final departure/long ass drive out of Tampa.
So while we had a showing on the house (yay!) I packed Jingle and Jess up, and we headed to the vet.
This wasn't supposed to be a big deal in the grand scheme of things--Jingle's a pretty good dog (now) and it was really just a check-up. She was doing just fine until the nurse went to take her paw to draw blood, and then Jingle turned into this ferocious beast which required 3 aides, a muzzle and then a trip to the back room where they mysteriously injected the proper medicines. It was all surprisingly upsetting.
As we were leaving, standing by to pay a very high fee for such trouble, another dog came out of another room. A miniature schnauzer started yipping and yapping annoyingly. Jessie walked over to him, but his owner kind of freaked and yelled, 'He's not used to little kids!" and Jessie backed away.
The woman and her little dog left, barking the entire time before urinating on the floor of the waiting room, and I looked down at Jessie who had an uncharacteristic frown on her sweet face. She said, "I just wanted to pet that dog."
I hugged her and explained that some dogs get too scared if they don't know people.
She just looked at me and said sadly, "But I'm Jessica."
I think she's going to have a lot of new friends in Tennessee.
So while we had a showing on the house (yay!) I packed Jingle and Jess up, and we headed to the vet.
This wasn't supposed to be a big deal in the grand scheme of things--Jingle's a pretty good dog (now) and it was really just a check-up. She was doing just fine until the nurse went to take her paw to draw blood, and then Jingle turned into this ferocious beast which required 3 aides, a muzzle and then a trip to the back room where they mysteriously injected the proper medicines. It was all surprisingly upsetting.
As we were leaving, standing by to pay a very high fee for such trouble, another dog came out of another room. A miniature schnauzer started yipping and yapping annoyingly. Jessie walked over to him, but his owner kind of freaked and yelled, 'He's not used to little kids!" and Jessie backed away.
The woman and her little dog left, barking the entire time before urinating on the floor of the waiting room, and I looked down at Jessie who had an uncharacteristic frown on her sweet face. She said, "I just wanted to pet that dog."
I hugged her and explained that some dogs get too scared if they don't know people.
She just looked at me and said sadly, "But I'm Jessica."
I think she's going to have a lot of new friends in Tennessee.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
My weekend
I have signed a treaty that does not allow me to post any pictures, names or details of my farewell weekend away with the girls, but I think I would not be in violation of the terms if I just mention the following:
1.) Be careful of past goofy photographs as they may just end up on 2 cases of wine bottles.
2.) Two days is too short, but you can fit in 10 years worth of laughter in a weekend, especially when prompted with the contents of UrbanDictionary.com.
3.) More research is needed on the precise pudding shot technique as opposed to the Jello variety.
4.) Champagne toasts taste sweeter on the beach.
5.) I have the best friends in the whole wide world.
1.) Be careful of past goofy photographs as they may just end up on 2 cases of wine bottles.
2.) Two days is too short, but you can fit in 10 years worth of laughter in a weekend, especially when prompted with the contents of UrbanDictionary.com.
3.) More research is needed on the precise pudding shot technique as opposed to the Jello variety.
4.) Champagne toasts taste sweeter on the beach.
5.) I have the best friends in the whole wide world.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Not long now
(Please note that I'm typing with my fingers crossed because I've grown very superstitious and weary these last few weeks, so I can't jinx anything via blogging.)
I'm about to fax the last redundant document over to the mortgage company in preparation for closing tomorrow. That's all I want to say about that until they hand us the keys.
But in other news, I wrote an informative piece for the Times and a ridiculous one for you.
I'm about to fax the last redundant document over to the mortgage company in preparation for closing tomorrow. That's all I want to say about that until they hand us the keys.
But in other news, I wrote an informative piece for the Times and a ridiculous one for you.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Moving Sucks
So that offer probably isn't our buyer, so life goes on. Or rather life in this house goes on staged, cleaned and from a cardboard box.
Friends, I'm tired today. I'm tired from all of the stupid details that I have to attend to, the running and other ridiculously necessary things I have to do in a day.
One of those really irritating errands was a blood test this morning. This is a requirement for a new life insurance policy, because apparently State Farm has determined that if I should die, Sean will need quite a large sum of money to replace me. I'm not sure why this is, but I totally suggest getting into the rodeo clown business if you're looking for a career change because that's where there is great income potential.
Anyway, I had to fast for this test, (Because lord knows a cup of damn coffee might just throw off my body chemistry counts so hideously out of whack that modern science could not deem me insurable) so I was particularly cranky and headache-y in that hazy way when the nurse asked me to get on the scale. (For a split second, I was glad I was fasting.) It was one of those real official types--sliding weights and measures around like an abicus and so accurate you can't even take off 5 pounds by removing your shoes--but the nurse was having trouble with it.
"114, does that sound right?"
"Um, sure if we're not counting my bones, skin, and vital organs."
"Oh, sorry. I was 10 pounds off."
And you know what, I didn't even correct her that she may be a hair off from even that.
Because moving sucks and today the universe owed me at least 10 pounds.
And a damn cup of coffee.
Friends, I'm tired today. I'm tired from all of the stupid details that I have to attend to, the running and other ridiculously necessary things I have to do in a day.
One of those really irritating errands was a blood test this morning. This is a requirement for a new life insurance policy, because apparently State Farm has determined that if I should die, Sean will need quite a large sum of money to replace me. I'm not sure why this is, but I totally suggest getting into the rodeo clown business if you're looking for a career change because that's where there is great income potential.
Anyway, I had to fast for this test, (Because lord knows a cup of damn coffee might just throw off my body chemistry counts so hideously out of whack that modern science could not deem me insurable) so I was particularly cranky and headache-y in that hazy way when the nurse asked me to get on the scale. (For a split second, I was glad I was fasting.) It was one of those real official types--sliding weights and measures around like an abicus and so accurate you can't even take off 5 pounds by removing your shoes--but the nurse was having trouble with it.
"114, does that sound right?"
"Um, sure if we're not counting my bones, skin, and vital organs."
"Oh, sorry. I was 10 pounds off."
And you know what, I didn't even correct her that she may be a hair off from even that.
Because moving sucks and today the universe owed me at least 10 pounds.
And a damn cup of coffee.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Knock on wood
We interrupt this regularly update on our new house to give one on our current one: Houston, we have an offer.
Ok, who knows if this will lead to the eventual sale, but it is an offer and now the excruciating process of negotiating begins. At least I find it to be so.
So while I do not want to jinx it by counting all of those chickens yet, I will say out loud that I hope it is because selling this right now before entering October having to show this with four kids and a dog will save what little is left of my mind, body and soul. And to be able to move out knowing it won't be left vacant will be worth a boatload of worry cells as well.
So if this is it, I'll dig up St. Joseph and give to all of you out there with your fingers crossed.
Ok, who knows if this will lead to the eventual sale, but it is an offer and now the excruciating process of negotiating begins. At least I find it to be so.
So while I do not want to jinx it by counting all of those chickens yet, I will say out loud that I hope it is because selling this right now before entering October having to show this with four kids and a dog will save what little is left of my mind, body and soul. And to be able to move out knowing it won't be left vacant will be worth a boatload of worry cells as well.
So if this is it, I'll dig up St. Joseph and give to all of you out there with your fingers crossed.
Monday, September 20, 2010
For you, Intern
Danny warned me that since I hardly ever update anymore, I might be losing readers. Well, here you go, Intern. An update and countdown to our move.
We went to Nashville this weekend for a quick visit to check out Stevie's future hockey team as well as our new house. We put in an offer on a house that we spent a whopping 18 minutes in the first time around, because that's probably twice as long as we normally would make a life-altering decision. That's just how we roll. So this weekend I got 18 more minutes to check to see if there were blinds on the window and where the bathroom was.
Luckily, my memory was faulty, and I loved it even more now that I knew it is ours. (Almost.)
But there are a couple of things that we do need to change....
I've changed too many babies diapers to let this stand in the girls' room.
And I'd really like a working butler to work in this butler's pantry...
And unless all of the kids decide to go to LSU, these colors in the basement need to go.
But I love my new kitchen.
And upstairs loft which differs from the upstairs playroom complete with its own wetbar and ice maker.
Tomorrow (ish) I'll post pictures of the outside which is just as extreme in its awesomeness.
We went to Nashville this weekend for a quick visit to check out Stevie's future hockey team as well as our new house. We put in an offer on a house that we spent a whopping 18 minutes in the first time around, because that's probably twice as long as we normally would make a life-altering decision. That's just how we roll. So this weekend I got 18 more minutes to check to see if there were blinds on the window and where the bathroom was.
Luckily, my memory was faulty, and I loved it even more now that I knew it is ours. (Almost.)
But there are a couple of things that we do need to change....
I've changed too many babies diapers to let this stand in the girls' room.
And I'd really like a working butler to work in this butler's pantry...
And unless all of the kids decide to go to LSU, these colors in the basement need to go.
But I love my new kitchen.
And upstairs loft which differs from the upstairs playroom complete with its own wetbar and ice maker.
Tomorrow (ish) I'll post pictures of the outside which is just as extreme in its awesomeness.
Monday, September 13, 2010
About that house...
It's big and beautiful, and hopefully, soon to be ours.
We have a contract on this, and right now we're on that torturous stage of inspections, mortgages, appraisals and a host of other non-fun things before we can close and move in. I realize that these things are a necessity, but I hate this part.
This house is much different than the one we're in now. I remember 10 years ago walking into this one and saying, "It'll do." We were in the neighborhood we wanted, and I was so close to giving birth to Matty, and it just felt like anything with a roof would do at that point.
This one was different.
Each of us walked in and before we'd even toured then entire thing, everyone had announced that this was the one. The neighborhood, the location, the house...it just seems to fit us right now.
It's big--but I'm ready to fill it. Besides a big family that deserves some elbow room, I want frequent guests. I want room enough for friends and family around the country to stay with us. I want to do all of the tourist things in Nashville (and there is a lot!) and I want to share that with everyone.
So come and sit a spell on our back porch, and we'll go to the Grand Ole Opry and anything else that city has to offer. It's a new adventure and I want you all to join us.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
It's been kind of a busy week...
In the past seven days I've put the house on the market, traveled to Nashville where we toured two schools, 17 houses, and the downtown metropolitan area; bought number 14 of that lot, started the school transfer procedures, shown this house twice, continued with bathroom renovations and managed to get everyone to school, baseball, football and cheerleading practices. On time.
To say I'm exhausted would be fair, but I am also excited and overwhelmed.
First, this house.
It sucks to sell a house when the bathroom is still being remodeled and you have the world's hairiest dog and Jesso to cleanup after. I just walk behind them all day with a Clorox wipe and a Swiffer. Not that I have time, but I'm afraid to cook a meal because I don't want the house to smell like some of the ones we toured. Every single routine has been disrupted, and I sort of feel like I'm not really living here because everything that gave this house personality--our personality--is boxed up and sitting in the garage in order to sell it.
I get it, I'm just over it already.
And then there's the new house.
I love it. We love it. We walked in the front door, and even before we saw every room we all announced seperately that this was it. It just felt like home. immediately. It's big and beautiful and I just saw us there. I haven't felt that way in a long time.
But even that wonderful experience is stressballs because now there are offers and counter offers, mortgage shopping and gathering of documents, inspections and appraisals and all of the non-fun stuff that goes along with buying a house. I want to just skip ahead to the picking out paint swatches and eating Chinese food on cardboard boxes waiting for the movers to arrive.
But I guess that's not going to happen until we get through a few more months of Swiffering.
To say I'm exhausted would be fair, but I am also excited and overwhelmed.
First, this house.
It sucks to sell a house when the bathroom is still being remodeled and you have the world's hairiest dog and Jesso to cleanup after. I just walk behind them all day with a Clorox wipe and a Swiffer. Not that I have time, but I'm afraid to cook a meal because I don't want the house to smell like some of the ones we toured. Every single routine has been disrupted, and I sort of feel like I'm not really living here because everything that gave this house personality--our personality--is boxed up and sitting in the garage in order to sell it.
I get it, I'm just over it already.
And then there's the new house.
I love it. We love it. We walked in the front door, and even before we saw every room we all announced seperately that this was it. It just felt like home. immediately. It's big and beautiful and I just saw us there. I haven't felt that way in a long time.
But even that wonderful experience is stressballs because now there are offers and counter offers, mortgage shopping and gathering of documents, inspections and appraisals and all of the non-fun stuff that goes along with buying a house. I want to just skip ahead to the picking out paint swatches and eating Chinese food on cardboard boxes waiting for the movers to arrive.
But I guess that's not going to happen until we get through a few more months of Swiffering.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Proof I didn't pack myself in a box yet
Readying the house for a buyer and the kids for school has been time-consuming and completely exhausting, and I'm trying to fit everything in and get everything done on this ever-expanding to-do list.
I'm failing.
But I did finally get a post up about heart condition on Whoa Momma.
I'm failing.
But I did finally get a post up about heart condition on Whoa Momma.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
New routine
Well, here they are, bright and early on the first day of 1st and 5th grades.
And here is what Jess and Jing did 5 minutes after they left.
And here is what Jess and Jing did 5 minutes after they left.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Someone please buy this house in a hurry so I don't have to take the dog and baby for rides in the car all month long
I'm certain that in the depths of hell, Lucifer holds a Sharpie in one hand and a roll of packing tape in the other and demands his minions to "declutter" hades whilst children and the world's hairiest dog run amok.
No, we haven't moved yet--we're just getting clearing, clearing, dumping, packing and otherwise staging the house to appear that six people and a dog don't live here.
And it's not even on the market yet. I can't friggin' wait to start showing the house with 4.2 minutes notice to clean up after Jessie and Jingle and get all of us out of the house while strangers criticize the color of the drapes. I am going to be even a more raving lunatic than usual.
Luckily, we haven't been around too much to mess things up too badly with all of the partying going on. There are many events and by the time we actually make it up to Nashville we will be suffering from gout and cirrhosis of the liver. But it sure is fun and is a nice distraction from the endless home repair.
School begins for the rest of the clan, and I'm not even going to pretend that I will be going back to the gym or writing anything other than "Misc. sports memorabilia" on cardboard boxes in hell.
Save me.....
No, we haven't moved yet--we're just getting clearing, clearing, dumping, packing and otherwise staging the house to appear that six people and a dog don't live here.
And it's not even on the market yet. I can't friggin' wait to start showing the house with 4.2 minutes notice to clean up after Jessie and Jingle and get all of us out of the house while strangers criticize the color of the drapes. I am going to be even a more raving lunatic than usual.
Luckily, we haven't been around too much to mess things up too badly with all of the partying going on. There are many events and by the time we actually make it up to Nashville we will be suffering from gout and cirrhosis of the liver. But it sure is fun and is a nice distraction from the endless home repair.
School begins for the rest of the clan, and I'm not even going to pretend that I will be going back to the gym or writing anything other than "Misc. sports memorabilia" on cardboard boxes in hell.
Save me.....
Thursday, August 12, 2010
About that announcement...
I packed my first box today.
It was small and only contained a few children’s books, but it was the first physical acknowledgement that we will actually be moving soon.
When, exactly, I don’t know.
There is still a lot of life in Tampa to live--a house to prep and sell, semesters for three children to start and complete. And of course, we actually have to a place in Nashville to move into.
But we are excited. And sad. It’s a wonderful place here with wonderful friends and I’ve called it home for the last 10 years. Three of my children were born here. Suburban Diva surfaced. I launched a pretty fun career. I’ve met lifelong friends and learned life lessons. So while the ultimate decision to move was made easy for us by the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity before us, the actual leaving is not going to be.
So one box down, only a couple thousand more to go.
It was small and only contained a few children’s books, but it was the first physical acknowledgement that we will actually be moving soon.
When, exactly, I don’t know.
There is still a lot of life in Tampa to live--a house to prep and sell, semesters for three children to start and complete. And of course, we actually have to a place in Nashville to move into.
But we are excited. And sad. It’s a wonderful place here with wonderful friends and I’ve called it home for the last 10 years. Three of my children were born here. Suburban Diva surfaced. I launched a pretty fun career. I’ve met lifelong friends and learned life lessons. So while the ultimate decision to move was made easy for us by the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity before us, the actual leaving is not going to be.
So one box down, only a couple thousand more to go.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
What's new?
I don't really have a whole lot of words of my own today, so I'm going to leave you with some written by others to fill you in on the latest news and happenings in our household.
From The St. Pete Times.
And from The Tennessean.
It was also in USA Today.
That's what's new here.
(P.S. Here's what's new at SuburbanDiva.com including a $100 giveaway from CSNstores.com)
From The St. Pete Times.
And from The Tennessean.
It was also in USA Today.
That's what's new here.
(P.S. Here's what's new at SuburbanDiva.com including a $100 giveaway from CSNstores.com)
Monday, August 09, 2010
First Day of High School
Maybe in high school they'll teach him how I can turn photos the right way on blogger.
Fashion disclaimer: it's a uniform.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Ticking clock
We've returned again from yet another weekend o' fun.
Packing a summer for 6 into the last two weeks of it has been challenging, but somehow we've managed it. Because in less than a week, a high-schooler officially resides here.
This is incomprehensible to me. I'm pretending I know what to do as I scurry off to physicals and football practice, uniform stores and Office Depot. I clean out his room from clothes that don't fit even though they are practically new, and buy yet another new pair (or three) of shoes.
I love that he's here at this high school place and hate it all at once. I love who he is becoming--who he has become and I miss him already. We have had such a wonderful summer saying farewell to Middle School that I just can't imagine it ending yet.
Packing a summer for 6 into the last two weeks of it has been challenging, but somehow we've managed it. Because in less than a week, a high-schooler officially resides here.
This is incomprehensible to me. I'm pretending I know what to do as I scurry off to physicals and football practice, uniform stores and Office Depot. I clean out his room from clothes that don't fit even though they are practically new, and buy yet another new pair (or three) of shoes.
I love that he's here at this high school place and hate it all at once. I love who he is becoming--who he has become and I miss him already. We have had such a wonderful summer saying farewell to Middle School that I just can't imagine it ending yet.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday Dinners
So I've decided to incorporate a new feature on this blog entitled: Sunday Dinners. This may or may not be about dinners and/or on Sundays, but it will be a post about food in some fashion or another. I realize that the pursuit of food is a big part of my life and I don't talk about it nearly enough.
This Sunday's menu was a typical one around here: something new from the latest edition of Bon Appetit, something from last month's issue, an old favorite, and something totally crazy.
I chose a lamb kebob with mint pesto from the August edition, and changed it up just a little since I thought I had coriander seed but didn't, and roasted the vegetables alongside rather than on the skewers. This was absolutely delicious, and that mint pesto held up beautifully against the lamb and really made the dish.
Alongside I served this pasta salad with green olivadafrom July, and an Asian cole slaw from my recipe book of long ago. For dessert, I tried twice to make a German chocolate cake from scratch and apparently succeeded on the second try, but since I don't like coconut, I'll have to take everyone's word for it.
I'd like to say we paired this all with a nice wine, but we ended up going through seven bottles of various and sundry reds--none of which were the same, so perhaps that was the failure of the evening but no one ended up caring in the end for those seven-bottle reasons.
This Sunday's menu was a typical one around here: something new from the latest edition of Bon Appetit, something from last month's issue, an old favorite, and something totally crazy.
I chose a lamb kebob with mint pesto from the August edition, and changed it up just a little since I thought I had coriander seed but didn't, and roasted the vegetables alongside rather than on the skewers. This was absolutely delicious, and that mint pesto held up beautifully against the lamb and really made the dish.
Alongside I served this pasta salad with green olivadafrom July, and an Asian cole slaw from my recipe book of long ago. For dessert, I tried twice to make a German chocolate cake from scratch and apparently succeeded on the second try, but since I don't like coconut, I'll have to take everyone's word for it.
I'd like to say we paired this all with a nice wine, but we ended up going through seven bottles of various and sundry reds--none of which were the same, so perhaps that was the failure of the evening but no one ended up caring in the end for those seven-bottle reasons.
Friday, July 23, 2010
More thoughts on the spill
I've been doing a lot of thinking since Tuesday's discussion on TheMotherhood.com on the oil disaster, and as the first raindrops of Tropical Storm Bonnie start falling outside, I can't help but think of it more.
We're not expected to get much from this storm here in Tampa because the bulk of the wind is headed straight toward the spill and no one knows exactly what that means. Or at least not many are speculating on record.
And that's the sort of thing I learned from Tuesday's call--this is an unmitigated disaster, meaning no one really knows what is going on. While the focus has been on capping it (as it should) and getting billboard money for tourism (ridiculous at this point) much of what is going on remains unexamined.
We spoke to an official from the NWF, Jaime Matyas, who is helping with the efforts to save the wildlife. Remember when I said that while we were on Palm Island we saw much more wildlife in the water than ever? That wasn't my imagination-- the methane in the water is sucking up all of the oxygen making it impossible for sealife to survive in these "dead zones" and pushing many species inland.
A blogger that I have met in real life, Trisha Haas from MomDot.com took these photos around Pensacola Beach a few weeks ago. While the tar balls are frightening, to me that mysterious algae is more troubling. Is it from the dispersants? A by-product of something? Is it helpful or harmful and what happens when a fish eats it?
There are others trying to document the wetlands and mainstream publications trying to document BP's corporate recklessness.
But I think it's our job to document, report, talk, write and help as well.
There isn't an anchor organization that is leading up the clean-up efforts. There are just a lot of individuals and small charities working on a great big problem.
For me, I will be volunteering for the NWF's Coastal Volunteer Surveillance Team. At first I didn't think I was qualified, but I have eyes and I care--the only qualifications that matter.
And I will also be writing and posting and sharing and yelling.
Because the more information we get out there, the better.
(If you missed the talk, you can read the transcript here.)
We're not expected to get much from this storm here in Tampa because the bulk of the wind is headed straight toward the spill and no one knows exactly what that means. Or at least not many are speculating on record.
And that's the sort of thing I learned from Tuesday's call--this is an unmitigated disaster, meaning no one really knows what is going on. While the focus has been on capping it (as it should) and getting billboard money for tourism (ridiculous at this point) much of what is going on remains unexamined.
We spoke to an official from the NWF, Jaime Matyas, who is helping with the efforts to save the wildlife. Remember when I said that while we were on Palm Island we saw much more wildlife in the water than ever? That wasn't my imagination-- the methane in the water is sucking up all of the oxygen making it impossible for sealife to survive in these "dead zones" and pushing many species inland.
A blogger that I have met in real life, Trisha Haas from MomDot.com took these photos around Pensacola Beach a few weeks ago. While the tar balls are frightening, to me that mysterious algae is more troubling. Is it from the dispersants? A by-product of something? Is it helpful or harmful and what happens when a fish eats it?
There are others trying to document the wetlands and mainstream publications trying to document BP's corporate recklessness.
But I think it's our job to document, report, talk, write and help as well.
There isn't an anchor organization that is leading up the clean-up efforts. There are just a lot of individuals and small charities working on a great big problem.
For me, I will be volunteering for the NWF's Coastal Volunteer Surveillance Team. At first I didn't think I was qualified, but I have eyes and I care--the only qualifications that matter.
And I will also be writing and posting and sharing and yelling.
Because the more information we get out there, the better.
(If you missed the talk, you can read the transcript here.)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Let's talk about this mess and what we can do about it
Tomorrow I'm going to be co-hosting a talk over on TheMotherhood.com regarding the oil spill crisis and what we as Gulf coast residents or just plain concerned humans can do.
If you are interested, please join me and many others for this open discussion at The Motherhood at noon, July 20th. It's free and open to all.
http://www.themotherhood.com/talk/show/id/62029
If you are interested, please join me and many others for this open discussion at The Motherhood at noon, July 20th. It's free and open to all.
http://www.themotherhood.com/talk/show/id/62029
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Home again
I'm really not good at blogging while on vacation.
I have the best of intentions--I pack up the laptop with thoughts of writing in hotel rooms after long days of travel, but truth be told the computer rarely makes it out of the car. I think I turned it on once in the last 10 days.
But when was prose going to fit in on a 3500 mile road trip with four kids across fourteen states? Zactly. By the time my head hit interstate sheets, I was fast asleep exhausted from driving for 12 hour stretches.
But I wouldn't have done it any differently. We headed out last Monday and went to Chattanooga for a first stop on the way to Detroit. I was thinking of the Chattanooga Choo Choo or some touristy equivalent, but the boys decided they wanted to see a Lookouts game so we headed there instead.
We finished our trek to Detroit the next day and spent the next couple with my Dad doing Detroit things like lunch downtown at National Coney Island and the Science Center. We ate dinner at Hockeytown before taking in a Tiger game which was grrr-eat! (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)
On to Akron, Ohio so we could be front and center for LeBron's decision and feel the collective pain of the city. (Actually, that was pure coincidence as we visited my sister and her beautiful family.) We had fun visiting the Football Hall of Fame and I started to get the distinct feeling that sports was going to be the dominant theme of this road trip whether I planned it that way or not.
Next we drove out to Long Island for big family doings. Very fun. Then it was back south by way of Washington D.C. and South Carolina. We got drenched at the Washington Monument but it didn't seem to matter.
People say I'm crazy to spend 24/7 in the car for a couple of weeks with my kids.
But I just got to spend 24/7 with my kids for a couple of weeks, and that is crazy good.
I have the best of intentions--I pack up the laptop with thoughts of writing in hotel rooms after long days of travel, but truth be told the computer rarely makes it out of the car. I think I turned it on once in the last 10 days.
But when was prose going to fit in on a 3500 mile road trip with four kids across fourteen states? Zactly. By the time my head hit interstate sheets, I was fast asleep exhausted from driving for 12 hour stretches.
But I wouldn't have done it any differently. We headed out last Monday and went to Chattanooga for a first stop on the way to Detroit. I was thinking of the Chattanooga Choo Choo or some touristy equivalent, but the boys decided they wanted to see a Lookouts game so we headed there instead.
We finished our trek to Detroit the next day and spent the next couple with my Dad doing Detroit things like lunch downtown at National Coney Island and the Science Center. We ate dinner at Hockeytown before taking in a Tiger game which was grrr-eat! (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)
On to Akron, Ohio so we could be front and center for LeBron's decision and feel the collective pain of the city. (Actually, that was pure coincidence as we visited my sister and her beautiful family.) We had fun visiting the Football Hall of Fame and I started to get the distinct feeling that sports was going to be the dominant theme of this road trip whether I planned it that way or not.
Next we drove out to Long Island for big family doings. Very fun. Then it was back south by way of Washington D.C. and South Carolina. We got drenched at the Washington Monument but it didn't seem to matter.
People say I'm crazy to spend 24/7 in the car for a couple of weeks with my kids.
But I just got to spend 24/7 with my kids for a couple of weeks, and that is crazy good.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Movie night
Simply to enjoy an evening out and not for review purposes, I actually got tickets from a radio station last weekend for a sneak preview of Despicable Me.
So the kids and I braved the rain and crowds for Twilight, and saw this funny movie. It was considerably better than Saturday's trip to Toy Story 3 where 2/3 of the family had to be carried out to the car in fits of sobs. (I was one.)
Here is our review set to go on Whoa Momma next week:
“Mom, that was sooo funny!”
~A. age 6
“That was so beast.”
~M. age 10
At least these two critics were unanimous: Despicable Me is a very funny movie.
Although not in theaters until July 9, we got a sneak peek of the new animated film starring Steve Carrel recently, and it certainly was a big crowd pleaser to the packed theater.
The story is about a fading super villain trying to commit the world’s greatest crime and out-do his younger up-and-coming nemesis. Seeing his opportunity with three young girls (Miranda Cosgrove) selling cookies, Dr. Gru adopts the orphans and finds that he may be outmatched when it comes to parenthood.
The movie earns its PG rating with a few derrière and toilet jokes, but overall it’s pretty harmless. It starts off a little slow, but the laughs come soon enough, especially when we meet Dr. Gru’s “minions,” who look like little yellow Tic-Tacs, but are much funnier.
It’s a bit Addams Family-esque, (Dr. Gru looks like Uncle Fester with a Boris and Natasha accent) but the dark parts are fleeting and replaced with jokes and slapstick stunts. The plot was a touch predictable, but it is a fun story and the 3-D effects and animation are impressive.
That, and Steve Carrel is beast.
So the kids and I braved the rain and crowds for Twilight, and saw this funny movie. It was considerably better than Saturday's trip to Toy Story 3 where 2/3 of the family had to be carried out to the car in fits of sobs. (I was one.)
Here is our review set to go on Whoa Momma next week:
“Mom, that was sooo funny!”
~A. age 6
“That was so beast.”
~M. age 10
At least these two critics were unanimous: Despicable Me is a very funny movie.
Although not in theaters until July 9, we got a sneak peek of the new animated film starring Steve Carrel recently, and it certainly was a big crowd pleaser to the packed theater.
The story is about a fading super villain trying to commit the world’s greatest crime and out-do his younger up-and-coming nemesis. Seeing his opportunity with three young girls (Miranda Cosgrove) selling cookies, Dr. Gru adopts the orphans and finds that he may be outmatched when it comes to parenthood.
The movie earns its PG rating with a few derrière and toilet jokes, but overall it’s pretty harmless. It starts off a little slow, but the laughs come soon enough, especially when we meet Dr. Gru’s “minions,” who look like little yellow Tic-Tacs, but are much funnier.
It’s a bit Addams Family-esque, (Dr. Gru looks like Uncle Fester with a Boris and Natasha accent) but the dark parts are fleeting and replaced with jokes and slapstick stunts. The plot was a touch predictable, but it is a fun story and the 3-D effects and animation are impressive.
That, and Steve Carrel is beast.
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