The written word

When the Big Dubya and I started dating, much of our courtship was conducted via email. In some ways it sounds quite impersonal -- but it really wasn't.... it more harkened back to the days of letter-writing, which in my humble opinion is a dying art.

In the beginning I remember fretting and laboring over every word -- didn't want to sound disinterested, didn't want to sound over-interested.... didn't want to sound too serious.... didn't want to sound like a flake. I suspect similar consternation was happening on the other end of the carefully worded emails I received in response.

As time went on, we got more comfortable with each other -- and the word/phrase choice became less important. As a result, on more than one occasion one of us would dash out an email and the other would read "voice" or "tone" into the message that simply wasn't there .... and sad to say, a few times it escalated into a full blown argument. "What the hell does "fine" mean, huh?"

I bring this up because, I think many times as bloggers we tend to project "voice" or "tone" into some of the posts and/or comments we read. A perfect example -- it appears that MIM has unintentionally been pissin' off all the fat people out there (just kidding) and she's been getting attacked from every side (hello people, it's a blog.... if you don't like the topic, don't read it!) In some ways, I think she made a big mistake by just posting a couple of thoughts rather than a 750 page dissertation of all the reasons why people gain/lose weight, why people may or may not get depressed and why spouses may/may not mind when their partner balloons up after marriage. Why people can't just take it as food for thought, I don't know -- she has some great arguments -- which are just that...... arguments, theories.... not the rule of law (she's good, she's not that good). I don't agree with everything that she wrote -- but it was thought provoking none the less and made me stop and think about the health of my own body-image and the motivations behind it.

Anyway, the Big Dubya thought he was being a good guy and posted a comment..... intending to throw her some support -- when what he actually ended up doing was insulting the author of a blog that we both really enjoy reading. I'm so glad she got in touch with him -- apparently, what he meant and what he typed were not in the same galaxy at all... and he implored her to remove the comment before he insulted anyone else we like! (Husbands, they just shouldn't be left alone). Anyway MIM was, as always, very gracious -- she removed the post, and accepted his apology -- hopefully we are all good and the international incident was avoided.

The moral of the story.... let's be careful how what we type might be received, 'kay?

Too Cool.....

Our 'lil man has decided that after several months of loving being in his excersaucer..... he's too cool for the inside.... yeah, all he wants to do is walk around the outside.

Sniff, he's getting so grown up.

Adam, how could you do it?

As a sports fan, I'm fairly loyal to a few teams.... my parents came to the United States in the late '60s and their first real exposure to American sports were the '69 Mets. My mother talks of being amazed by the ticker-tape parade and the people of New York celebrating in the street. After moving to the Boston area in the late '70s, my mother became a RedSox fan.... my Dad, he stayed loyal to the Mets. The fall of 1986 was tense in our house....... but we survived.

My Dad took us to a few RedSox games and we got to see the many of the greats play..... I remember him saying that when I grew up, I'd be able to say that I saw Yaz play. That was back when it wasn't all that unusual for a player to spend their entire career with one team.... I think that time has passed.

As fans, we expect the players to be as loyal to their team as we are..... but for them, it's a job -- they are loyal to the team that pays them..... whatever team that happens to be. Cognitively I understand that.... and seeing one player or another depart the home team..... I don't always like it, but it's a fact of life. But some players..... some players you just expect more from.... you expect them to always be there..... when they leave, it's personal.

Which brings me to Adam Vinatieri.... how could he leave us???

Let's make a list of the things I can't do....

Okay, I'm sure I've gone on enough about the mouse.... which still hasn't been caught by the way -- so, instead, I thought I'd highlight one of my shortcomings.....

I cannot fold a fitted sheet..... yes, for some reason, I am unable to learn this task -- which sounds absurdly simple. By the way, apparently I'm not alone -- as I searched for this picture, I found several websites claiming that they could teach me how to accomplish this feat..... who'd a thunk it? what did we do before the internet, huh?

There are many, many more of course, but..... wanna share what you can't do?

Sunday at the Dubyas

11:30 am

Mrs Big Dubya: Honey, wanna beer?
Mr Big Dubya: No, I think I'm all set for now
Mrs Big Dubya (to 'lil Dubya): No sweetie -- Daddy's not a Mary -- Honey, did you teach him that?

Disclaimer: The 'lil man's teething and has kept us up all night for three days..... time of day in our house is irrelevant at this point in time.

I'm being stalked

Okay -- so, I know..... enough about the mouse, but.....

All the traps are empty... it's been over a week. The Big Dubya saw the 'lil bastard on Friday night, but he got away.... we set more traps, but still nothing -- enough already!

So, Saturday, we took the 'lil man to get his 9-month photos done.... I know, picture overkill, but my plan is 3 mos, 6, mos, 9 mos, 1 year, 18 mos, 2 years and then annually after that...... it's just that they just change so much during this first year. I was recalling his 6-month photo session and that he couldn't really sit up on his own.... several boppys were involved in keeping him upright. Here we are, barely 3 months later and he's standing (with the help of a stool of course, but.... standing people!)

We went to the photo place and the 'lil man slept in the car -- when we woke him up he had huge red cheeks and was drooling like water-works, but..... such is life with a teething baby. We got inside and the photographers that work with children are great -- so patient. She got some great shots -- so, we were going over them -- trying to decide what to buy (by the way, black & white remedies much of the red cheek issue -- but doesn't do much for the drool) when a mouse ran right by where we were sitting. HELLOOOO -- what the fuck did I do to the mouse gods, huh? what's next? my car? my office? huh?

Tales of an amateur photo shoot....

So, my parents are right off the boat from Ireland.... our child has a very Irish name (FYI the 'lil Dubya is really just a pseudonym). As a result, I decided to take a St Patrick's Day photo of my 'lil man in his Irish gear..... easier said than done.

The results:

We'll try again later, but in the meantime -- Happy St Patrick's Day!

The Internet.... a blessing? or a curse?

A few years ago, my little Irish mother came to me and said "teach me dot-coms, I want to learn dot-coms" -- apparently she'd been hearing a lot about the internet and email and she wanted to join the fun.

In some ways it was great, it opened up a whole new world to her.... she started emailing her sisters and old friends that she'd lost touch with. Aunt P and I bought her a computer for Christmas and she started monitoring the stock market.... she selects stocks and follows them religiously.... she doesn't buy them, but she keeps an eye on all the prices..... she gets excited when they go up, sad when they go down..... she emails us regularly and I send her pictures of the 'lil man.... all this is terrific.

The problem is the junk..... you know, the chain letters, the jokes, the stuff we all categorize as spam..... this is my mother's bread & butter. Not a day goes by that she doesn't send me some sort of joke or cartoon -- granted, this is a little annoying -- but the part that is really funny is that most of the stuff she sends is smut. That's right -- my little Irish mother sends me dirty, dirty, filthy emails..... AND she sends it to my husband too! She's even taken to sending this crap to my in-laws UGGGGHHHHH.

To add insult to injury.... most of the time, she's so naive and innocent -- she doesn't even understand the joke -- but she likes to be part of the fun, so...I suppose it's harmless.

This is was in today's somewhat vanilla batch....

EEEEEEEK! (Part III)

Okay..... so here we are.... 97 hours since the last critter sighting..... and.... still nothing.... all the traps are empty..... UGGGHHHHH

I apologize for the vulgar language used in my last post.... I like to think that it's atypical..... I don't like to let that side of me slip out..... I've been making an effort to clean up my language, apparently -- I haven't been all that successful..... but, I've got a 9 month old baby who loves to play, lie and/or roll-around on the floor.... and for the past 97 hours, I have not wanted him down there. The only thing that gets me more freaked than the fact that a mouse may or may not be living in my house.... is the thought of that fucking thing getting anywhere near my precious little boy.

Okay.... anyway -- the traps are still empty -- and on some level that should make me happy..... but no, I'm just pissed off..... all the time.

I'm paranoid -- I'm constantly thinking that I see something, or hear something -- but it's a shadow, or a sheet of paper, or the ice shifting in a glass of water. The Big Dubya has been very kind during my hysteria..... he pretends that I'm not being over the top, but I know it.... I am.....he knows it too. I've even gone so far as to make him inspect my shoes before I put them on.... I've heard mice like to live in or burrow in shoes.

EEEEEEEK! (Part II)

So, here we are.... Saturday morning.... roughly 40 hours since the last sighting, and..... the traps are still vacant. Part of me is relieved.... if the traps are still vacant, that must mean that there's only one.... maybe two......, or maybe there was one, and he left.... they can do that, right? Hey you, stop laughing -- You just shut the fuck up, this is how my logic works and I'm not in the mood for your pin-head comments ass face.

But the other part of me is saying...."the fucking traps are still fucking empty.... that fucking little bastard is still running around my god-damned house!"

I'm jittery.... I'm constantly thinking that I see something, but.... it's nothing..... I think I need a tranquilizer.

EEEEEEEK!

I was shocked to see that the topic of Big Dubya's post was the 'lil guys simulated sex thrusts, rather than our new tenant.... the one that doesn't pay rent and is very, very, very unwelcome. Yes, last night while I was sitting on the couch tapping away on this very laptop, I let out a shriek that is usually reserved for cartoon damsels. I saw a mouse scurry across our kitchen.

I swear to God dear readers, our house can get cluttered from time to time, but it is not -- I repeat it is not dirty...... Aunt P, Cape Buffalo..... they'll vouch for me, they've been here. But, I know what you are thinking..... it's the first thing I think of when I hear about mice, or bugs.... I think the house must be dirty. In reality, we just live in a rural area -- so these types of things are to be expected from time to time..... but it is UNACCEPTABLE!

So, I'm sitting on the couch and I see the 'lil buggar..... I screamed.... and then I screamed some more.... the 'lil man was asleep on the couch next to me..... I scared him..... the Big Dubya was upstairs, but came running.... I scared him too. Of course by the time he got to me, the rascal was gone.... gone where? I don't know.... just gone. The Big Dubya ran to Stop & Shop and got some traps..... while he was gone, I called Aunt P...... hoping to distract myself..... but while on the phone with her.... I saw him again...... this time he ran to the fireplace.

The Big Dubya got home and set the traps -- and so we went to bed. This morning, all the traps were vacant...... and as you know, I work from home on Fridays. The Big Dubya left for work and I hid upstairs for as long as I could...... but at some point I had to come downstairs.... the 'lil man needed to be fed.

There have been no more sightings.... the Big Dubya checked the traps again when he got home and nothin'..... so, now we wait.

Maid of Honor..... Matron of Honor..... Chief Bride Slave

So, Aunt P is in the process of planning her big day......

Between our hometown church burning down and her general tendency toward procrastination..... it's taken her quite a while to figure out when and where she was going to get married..... but it appears that she's got her ass in gear and is going to move forward.

She's hoping to keep her wedding small..... and so I wasn't sure if she was going to bother with attendants. I mean, really..... what is the point? Do you really need to dress your closest friends up in matching outfits and seat them down front just so everyone who actually made the "cut" knows who you like the very best? So, I let her know that I'd run her shower & bachelorette party even if she didn't put me in the fluffy dress with the rest of her friends...... I really wouldn't be offended.

Anyway, we've gone wedding gown shopping a few times -- she made her decision and ordered a gown a week or so ago.... but, there was no word on a bridal party, so I figured she'd decided against it. Then, when I arrived home on Sunday.... there was a big box of chocolate covered strawberries on my front step. These weren't just any strawberries.... these things were huge..... ginormous...... these were the size of my head! The Big Dubya read the card aloud:

"I'm not sure if you are free or not, but if you are available on August 12, 2006, I was hoping you'd be my Matron of Honor. No pressure though... Give it some thought. -- your sister"

Of course I am honored to be asked..... but there was no need for a gift.... they were delicious by the way... I'm only a little ashamed to say I had a couple for breakfast on Monday morning...... but, is this the way things are done now? I must have been an awful hillbilly when I planned my wedding..... I took aunt P to lunch and asked her to be my maid of honor..... I think we had a couple of beers.... certainly not as decadent as the beauties that I found on my doorstep.

Anyway, I wasn't sure the proper etiquette for a response respond..... so I sent her back some berries (not nearly as nice I'm sure, but....) of her own with a card

"Yeah, sure"

Well, the week from hell is over

So, we made it through the week..... Granny came to the rescue and took care of the 'lil man so that the Big Dubya & I could get back to work.

I hate to complain about my mother coming to babysit -- she totally bailed us out of a huge jam, but.... you all know me -- even when someone drops everything, drives 3 hours and spends 2 full days watching my sick kid for free..... I can still manage to be snarky and find something to complain about...... so, here it is -- Why is it, that when Granny comes to visit, she feels to the need to show me all the things the 'lil man knows how to do? and then tell me all his likes and dislikes?

I mean, she acts as if this is the first time I'm meeting him..... "Oh Mrs Big Dubya, he really likes apples" and "Oh Mrs Big Dubya, if you hold your hands like this -- he'll reach out for you" and of course, my favorite "Mrs Big Dubya, he isn't feeling well -- he has no appetite" -- Well, geez Ma, why the hell do you think you are here????? He's sick!!

But in the end -- he loves her, and she loves him and everything worked out wonderfully, so....

Nobody loves you like your mother...

So, lately I've been feeling the pull.... the 'lil man's been under the weather. If I'm at work and he's at home w/ the Big Dubya, I feel like a bad mother. If I'm home with him.... I feel like I'm a bad employee.....

It's probably odd that it's taken me so long to get to this point -- probably due in large part to the Big Dubya who's taken the hit every time the 'lil man's needed one of us -- Dubya's dutifully gone to his aid every time..... and I've remained at work. This week was just the perfect storm.... we are both just stretched too thin and can't miss any more work, but the 'lil man -- although much better -- isn't 100% and should stay home.

I'm so bad at asking for help -- I like to think I'm independent, that I can manage my life.... but yesterday, I got to the breaking point -- I didn't know what else to do....... so, I did it, I broke down and called my mom. Who else would answer such a call with a, "I'll be there by dinner time, and I'll stay 'til Saturday" When she arrived last night the only thing she was missing were her tights, mask & cape -- Super Granny to the rescue!

I think I'm about to be fired

Well, no, not really, but......

I'm a type-A..... it's annoying I know, but that's me. I've been in my current job almost 3 years and have never once called in sick..... not even during my 9 months of pregnancy which included 5 months of all-day-sickness. I get close-to stellar performance reviews.... I meet my due dates and my deadlines -- my clients love me -- I'm generally a model employee...... low maintenance.

That all ended about a month ago. I thought I had the whole working-mother thing nailed -- I really did. The 'lil man's had some head colds and some tummy bugs...... and anytime he needed to stay home, the Big Dubya handled it. He works in the family-friendly non-profit world..... he works in a place where people put their families first and they understand that children get sick, and parents need to stay home with them.

I work in the corporate world..... the man's world. I've been somewhat successful in my career and have worked my way up to what I guess you could call upper-middle-management.... if there is such a thing.... almost everyone at my level is a man.... or a woman who has, for one reason or another, has decided not to have a family. All of these men have wives who stay home with their children -- so staying home with a sick child is a non-issue for them.

Well here we are..... the 'lil man is still fighting this tummy bug.... we've been to the doctor.... it's just a virus and needs to run its course. The Big Dubya has started to feel the strain.... even in a family-friendly workplace, you don't want to go to the well too many times..... and he feels he's at that point. So, I stayed home on Monday -- I wanted to keep him home yesterday, but we sent him to daycare --- only to have him sent home and I'm home with him today. Normally, I wouldn't feel too bad about calling in twice in one week.... but did it have to come on the heels of my Vegas debacle? or did it have to fall the week they are finalizing bonuses & pay raises?

I guess the bottom line is that my job is important to me.... and being a top performer is important to me, but neither will ever be more important than my 'lil man...... so, I guess if I get penalized for missing too much time.... well, that's the way it goes, huh?

Drunk Dialing

I could write today about how the 'lil man has yet another dose of a tummy bug (or maybe its just another recurrence of the original one), but I won't...... missing another day of work and then being puked on several times during the day and spending most of the night saying "Oh Honey, I know" or "It's okay buddy" gets boring after a while.

Instead, I decided to write about my dear husband..... and his closest friend. The Big Dubya has blogged quite a bit about his youth..... he wasn't really a bad kid -- but he saw his fair share of mischief. And like every Beaver Cleaver.... he had 40.... his family's own personal Eddie Haskell. The difference between Dubya and 40 is that Dubya's grown up (well, sorta) and 40 is still living the rockstar life.

This brings us to 1:30 this morning.... the Big Dubya was sleeping soundly in our cozy king-size bed..... I was on the couch with the 'lil Dubya begging and praying for him to go to sleep, all the while thinking to myself that 4:45 was going to come much to quickly if we didn't get at least a little sleep..... and then the Big Dubya's cell phone rings..... not just any ring, the Darth Vader theme music from Star Wars (I did say he was only sorta grown up). I jumped up, but I didn't get there in time.... I looked down and was overcome with a sense of rage. My first instinct was to take the phone upstairs and pelt the Big Dubya in his sleepy noggin with it and to shriek "Somebody ought to tell 40 that we have a baby!" but, I didn't. I got myself and the 'lil guy settled back onto the couch..... and then I started to feel guilty. Geee..... what if it's an emergency.... what if somebody died......

When I went upstairs this morning, I let the Big Dubya know that there was a call from 40 and that I hadn't answered it. The Big Dubya went to check it out and then came back and said..... um, yeah, you are glad you didn't answer it.

Apparently, 40 was in a bar in Florida ..... Florida, did we know he was going to Florida? No, we didn't.... He met a girl and she wanted to know who sings that song, I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight...... so, 40 was calling his very own human encyclopedia..... the fountain of useless information that is my husband to find out.... he does this a lot, apparently the bimbo set finds this phone-a-friend thing impressive.

As the Big Dubya was leaving for work, I asked -- by the way.... who sings it.... and he responded with a grin....Cutting Crew

First Sign of Spring.....

Some people look to some little groundhog to indicate how long 'til spring.... not us in the Dubya house.... NOOOOOO WAAAAYYYYY..... We judge the distance 'til spring by the opening of our favorit summer hotspot.........

Despite the low temperature (a balmy 19 degrees here in CT!!) and the snow flurries flying around, 0ur local Dairy Queen was open yesterday..... soon the birds will be back and the flowers will be singing.

Actual Conversation in the Dubya Household

Me (to 'lil Dubya): Buddy, you stink!
Mr Big Dubya: Whatcha doin'? changing his diaper?
Me: Yeah
Mr Big Dubya: How's it look?
Me: Thick & Chunky
Mr Big Dubya: And the rash?
Me: Much, much better
Mr Big Dubya: YIIIPPPEEEEE!

Your Tax Dollars Hard at Work

A University Studay found that banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour

Hmmmm, today -- this seems like a great idea..... that's the kind of day I'm having

A Happy Hiney

Please note: this is not a photo of 'lil Dubya.... just an actor portraying the 'lil man

Thanks so much for those who posted and/or emailed me some diaper-rash (I really wish the Big Dubya would stop calling it red-ass) remedies.... it makes me feel so much better to know that other well-cared-for & not-neglected babies have had to battle diaper rash. Fortunately, the Triple Paste has worked wonders..... that, coupled with the fact that the "squirts" have all but eased, has helped us regain Happy Hiney Status! We'll discuss the four teeth that are coming in up top in another post -- for now, I'm just relieved his butt is back up to par.

A couple of notes.... first, Susan suggested Maalox..... thanks for the suggestion.... I've never even heard of that.... but, let's be logical... it kind of makes a lot of sense.... Maalox coats.... is used to treat acid reflux....the squirts certainly appeared to be acidic (hence the rash)..... it's cool, creamy..... probably quite soothing (although mint? really?) I think I'm going to keep some in the house... just in case.

Lastly, I used one of the common search engines to try to find a photo/picture/cartoon for above.... I innocently typed in diaper rash and clicked images..... OH MY F'ING GOD!!!! The results I saw were enough to make my butt sore! So, as a result of experiencing this visual trauma, I feel the need to clarify..... the 'lil Dubya's rash WAS NOT like those depicted here.... had it even approached that bad or even a fraction of that bad, we would have been at the HOSPITAL, probably looking for skin grafts!

Are we sure this isn't the same product?

Lucky readers.... I'm feeling inspired (translation: I'm so not into the work that's piled up on my desk)... you get two posts in one day :)

As the Big Dubya has chronicled here, the 'lil man has a nasty-assed (sorry for the pun, couldn't help myself) diaper rash. I mean, I really didn't think a child could get a rash like this unless he/she was terribly neglected and left in a seriously soiled diaper for more than a week. It's so bad that I was almost embarrassed to bring him to school this morning, for fear that social services would be called in to investigate.... however, it is not due to neglect, it's due to the constant diaper soiling that my husband fondly refers to as the "squirts" that has consumed our every waking moment for days.... and when I say constant... I mean constant.... every 20 minutes for 5 consecutive days type constant.

Now, I'll be honest..... I am a brand-loyal gal.... if my parents bought it and used it while we were growing up, chances are I buy and use it now. Heinz Ketchup, Hellman's Mayonnaise.... we weren't Burger King people, we were McDonald's people.... we didn't drink Pepsi, we drank Coke (when we were allowed to have it, which wasn't very often)..... My mother used Pampers.... and Desitin and so do I (although, I do like the Huggies wipes better)!

So, due to the constant changing.... the 'lil man's butt started to get red and so out came the blue & white tube that has 'til now served us so well..... but, as time went on, the stuff just wasn't doing what it needed to do. I thought it might be because we were using that new fangled "Creamy Desitin" instead of the old fashioned "Paste".... so we began using the paste.... but his tiny 'lil butt just continued to deteriorate with each puddle of brown, yellow, green goop that poured from his tiny 'lil butt.

I asked the Big Dubya..... "Honey, are you sure you are using enough? you need to really apply a generous coating" And he replied "Mrs Big Dubya, I'm using plenty, it's just not strong enough, it just can't withstand the sheer volume" †

I took to the internet.... (what did people do before the internet???) and found this guy. He lays out all the things we've already tried and then recommends this Triple Paste stuff. I ran to CVS and bought a tube ($10!!!! but if it works, it's worth every penny!).... man, is this stuff thick! it really looks like spackle.... which makes me wonder, is it the same stuff? I remember using Colgate toothpaste to fill holes in our dorm walls so that we didn't get charged for the damage..... hmmmmm betcha those college kids never though of this stuff. Anyway, his butt looked a tiny bit better this morning.... I'll keep you posted on our progress!

† Conversation exaggerated for dramatic effect

Honey, What's for dinner?

Me: Honey, I'm not hungry..... are you?
Mr Big Dubya: No , not really
Me: How 'bout McDonald's Vanilla Shakes for dinner?
Mr Big Dubya: Oooohh, that sounds good
Me: Cool..... or we could get ice cream.... from that homemade place?
Mr Big Dubya: Sold!

Yes, okay..... we are bad parents.... we eat ice cream for dinner.... not often, just once in a while..... and the 'lil guy had a peaches.... not ice cream.... so he's not picking up our bad habits.... yet.

As for the diet I pledged myself to not long ago..... I was (notice the past tense here) doing very well..... and then I fell off the wagon a bit when I got to Vegas.... I had yummy things for breakfast like this and this .... it was delicious and I'm not sorry.... oh, and by the way these guys make a great Irish Coffee and they don't even bat an eye when you order one at 8:30 am.

I am however recommitting myself today..... so, here's a good dieting tip



Not only is hommus tasty (once you get used to it) but it's filling and the numbers are good
Numbers (for two tablespoons):
Calories 20
Fiber 3 grams
Fat 2 grams
Carbs 5 grams
WW points 1

Pretty in Pink?..... Not-so-much

The Big Dubya recently treated himself to a new shirt from JCrew.... pictured above..... it's a nice shirt, it was a good deal -- marked down to $9.99 from $39.50..... all was good, that was until he wore it and put it in the wash. It's strikingly similar to a few of his other shirts, so I washed it...... and so now, this great $9.99 bargain shirt has cost us about a dozen dish towels, 2 pairs of jeans (mine....one Calvin Klein, one Polo), an awesome mint green Nautica shirt (his-- which is now a lovely shade of mint pink), two of the 'lil man's Winnie the Pooh sweat suits and the cover to his now very feminine changing pad pictured below.

Moral to the story.... teaching husband how to bargain shop is a good thing..... blindly doing laundry.... not so good.... as the $9.99 shirt will cost us about $150 after we replace all the stuff that got ruined.

Your turn......

So, yesterday marked 4 years of wedded bliss for the Dubyas.

We've never been huge anniversary people..... usually a good dinner, a nice bottle of wine..... this year? yeah, well this year was slightly different. This year the Big Dubya and I split a fairly crappy pizza and took turns changing the 'lil Dubya's diarhea-filled diapers. This year, the only bottle we opened was pedialyte..... and the three of us were curled up in bed by 9:30.

Fortunately, the vomiting part of this tummy-bug seems to have wrapped up (knock on wood).... but man, this was one nasty bug. The 'lil guy has been nothing short of pathetic since Wednesday afternoon.

The thing is.... it wasn't such a bad anniversary after all..... 'cause nothing is more attractive or reaffirms your choice of partner than seeing your husband care for your child.... not getting upset when covered in vomit...... or when cleaning it up, yet again.

I Wish I Knew How to Quit You!

So, yesterday morning I'm driving to work and listening to AM Talk Radio..... (that's what Conservatives listen to, while Liberals are listening to NPR).... OOOOOHHHHHH did you feel that? that was Kara cringing.....

Anyway, I heard this song.... sung by Willie Nelson..... it's titled "Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly (Fond of Each Other)"...... yep, you read it right...... it's a song about closeted cowboys. At first I thought it was a spoof of sorts, but nope..... it's really about that. You can read more about it here. It struck me as funny and I laughed out loud in the car (yes, sometimes I really am still a sixth grader).... I'm not really sure why I laughed, but I did.... like a giddy schoolgirl. Melissa Etheridge, George Michael, Elton John..... there are lots of gay artists..... but usually they sing about love and relationships and don't say a whole lot about what kind of relationship it is.... gay, straight.... love is love, right? Well no..... not Willie, he's singin' about gay cowboys.... is Willie gay???? I don't think so, but hmmmmm maybe.... that would explain the braids.... um no........ never mind. Anyway, since the opening of Brokeback Mountain the Big Dubya's been walking around the house saying "I wish I knew how to quit you" and then cracking up laughing...... it's gotten to the point where he doesn't even have to say it out loud anymore.... he just spontaneously starts laughing.... and not just a slight laugh either, a good belly laugh and he doesn't even have to tell me...... I know exactly what he's laughing at!

Anyway, the song's on iTunes.... check it out. It's only a matter of days before the Big Dubya starts singing it!

Here are the lyrics:

There's many a strange impulse out on the plains of West Texas;
There's many a young boy who feels things he don't comprehend.
Well small town don't like it when somebody falls between sexes,
No, small town don't like it when a cowboy has feelings for men.

Well I believe in my soul that inside every man there's a feminine,
And inside every lady there's a deep manly voice loud and clear.
Well, a cowboy may brag about things that he does with his women,
But the ones who brag loudest are the ones that are most likely queer.

Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other”
What did you think those saddles and boots was about?
There's many a cowboy who don't understand the way that he feels
towards his brother,
Inside every cowboy there's a lady who'd love to slip out.

Ten men for each woman was the rule way back when on the prairie,
And somehow those cowboys must have kept themselves warm late at night.
Cowboys are famous for getting riled up about fairies,
But I'll tell you the reason a big strong man gets so uptight:

Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other”
That's why they wear leather, and Levi's and belts buckled tight.
There's many a cowboy who don't understand the way that he feels
towards his brother;
There's many a cowboy who's more like a lady at night.

Well there's always somebody who says what the others just whisper,
And mostly that someone's the first one to get shot down dead:
When you talk to a cowboy don't treat him like he was a sister
Don't mess with the lady that's sleepin' in each cowboy's head.

Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other”
Even though they take speed and drive pickups and shoot their big guns;
There's many a cowboy who don't understand the way that he feels
towards his brother;
There's many a cowboy who keeps quiet about things he's done.

Cancelled?..... What do you mean my flight's been cancelled?

So, those who've been reading for a while know that...... Aunt P and I kidnapped my mother (Granny) and whisked her off to Vegas for a pre-60th birthday celebration. I was brave, I left the 'lil Duby behind, as I know that despite the fact that he's been there before.... Vegas is no place for the 'lil man. In fairness, it would have been easier on me to bring him along.... leaving him killed me -- but would the long plane ride and hotel stay be the "right" thing for him?...... after much deliberation and discussion with the Big Dubya -- we came to the conclusion that leaving him behind would be for the best. I struggled with the decision, but came to the conclusion that I wasn't leaving him with strangers -- I was leaving him with his father and that it really was the best thing to do..... so, on Wednesday of last week..... off I went.

Granny was shocked by the surprise...... she cried when we told her where we were going..... little did she know, the surprises would keep on coming. Uncle Ro-Ro met us there about an hour after we landed..... my cousin Duphis, who lives in CA, met us there and treated us all to a fancy dinner on Thursday night. She was Queen for a few days and it was worth every minute. We had a wonderful time and then Saturday came and I was the happiest girl ever.... I was coming home to my men. There really is no place like home..... and nothing like a few days away to make you appreciate it. We noticed that the news was reporting that a snow storm was expected in Boston, but that wasn't until Sunday..... I naively thought that I'd fly into Boston and drive to CT just in time to spend Sunday afternoon playing with my 'lil man in front of the fire.

Imagine my shock and dismay when we learned on Saturday afternoon that our flight home was CANCELLED in anticipation of this puny little snow storm expected to hit the northeast. I couldn't believe it..... WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? I asked Aunt P, the seasoned traveler of the group....... oh, don't worry, she reassured me, we'll just get on a later flight.

Aunt P called the airline only to learn that not only was our Saturday flight cancelled, but all flights for Sunday were also cancelled. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? I asked again. She chatted away to the representative on the phone and I started to hear something about TUESDAY......

TUESDAY????? Are you f'ing kidding me.... I'm stuck here 'til TUESDAY????

Aunt P got off the phone...... basically, the soonest they could get us on a flight was Monday evening. Of course, it would not be the direct flight we had booked.... oh, no..... first they'd fly us from Las Vegas to California where we'd loiter for a few hours (yes, I consider "layover" to be an airport euphemism for loiter) and then we'd get to fly to Boston..... at which point I'd get to jump in my car and drive the 2 ½ hours home to CT arriving home around lunchtime on f'ing Tuesday.

This was unacceptable to me, but what could I do? I tried calling the airline myself and despite the very courteous woman on the phone who promised that she'd love to help me get back to my tiny little baby..... there was nothing she could do.... there were no flights to be had. I cried, and whined and cried some more..... the Big Dubya had a hard time hiding his disappointment on the phone -- it sounded like he was ready for me to come home too, but it was not in the cards.

We tried to make the most of it.... we spent a day downtown where my brother actually convinced my mother that she should try a deep-fried-twinkie! Aunt P & I stuck to these.... and more than just one.

We finally got a flight out on Monday evening.... we were to fly from Las Vegas, NV to Long Beach, CA (yes, the opposite direction of CT) and then from Long Beach to Boston. We arrived at the airport only to learn that our flight was delayed and we wouldn't be leaving for another 4 hours.......

Eventually, we managed to leave Las Vegas and when we arrived in Long Beach I got to see the smallest airport ever built.... I mean, this place was smaller than my living room...... there are 3 gates.... and our flight left from gate 4 -- I only wish I was joking........ I soon learned that gate 4 amounted to a shed behind the double-wide that housed the other 3 gates. Once onboard I pledged to never leave home again......

We landed in Boston safe and sound and I was thrilled to know that in 3 short hours I'd be holding my precious baby boy....... we collected our bags and Mr Tall Guy picked us up.... he was kind enough to bring a shovel so he could help me dig out my car. I was shocked to see that there was hardly any snow on the ground...... THIS puny amount of snow kept me in Las Vegas for 3 extra days???? UGHHHH -- we got to my car and the clearing wasn't too bad.... I could drive over it easy enough..... that is of course if my car would start -- you guessed it dear readers..... I had a dead battery.

Mr Tall Guy was kind enough to take one for the team and go get the Massport guy to come over and give us a jump..... I got back in Aunt P's car and just laughed like a mental patient..... there was nothing more that could go wrong, right?

In the end, I did make it home and the 'lil Dubya did remember me..... and I swear, I'll never leave home again.

M'am..... Miss......

I know I just did an age post recently, but..... today called for another one.

I recently bought myself a new cute outfit that calls for new cute shoes.... in navy blue! Well, I've been everywhere and curse my small feet.... I can't find a decent pair of navy blue shoes in my size to save my life. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be praying for size 8 or 9 feet..... but I am..... I found so many pairs of wonderful navy blue shoes..... in size 8, 9 even 10 but could I find a pair of 6½????? NOOOOOOO!

Anyway, to make myself feel better.... I decided to skip lunch and grab a McDonald's milkshake (nutritious, huh?) and in the spirit of saving time, I hit the drive through. I placed my order.... $2.36 for a shake? hmmmm kind of pricey (the Big Dubya usually pays for my shakes) and I went to the first window..... a woman older than my mother took my money.... and then said "Thank you, M’am" M’am??? you call me M’am????? I was thoroughly confused, and a little insulted.

To add insult to injury, I went to the second window to get my over-priced shake and the dude gave it to me "Here ya go, Miss" Miss???? you call me Miss??? I was even more confused and definitely insulted.

I'm not sure what I want them to call me.... do they have to call me anything?.... but, M’am and Miss are not it......

Obsolete cell phones out the wazu

If you are anything like the Dubyas.... you've got old cell phones a' plenty kicking around the house.

When we were first dating, I was with Bell Atlantic Mobile and the Big Dubya was with some other service I don't even remember the name of it..... the service was crap.

He switched over to Sprint, I switched to AT&T..... again, both services were crap.

We got a bit more serious in our relationship and we switched again.... this time to a joint plan with Voicestream..... service was excellent.... 'til we moved and then we were back to crap.

Next came Cingular..... which was better, but..... still not great and then -- you guessed it, we moved again and back to crapola.

Cingular convinced us that if we upgraded to digital we'd have better luck and yes, this was true -- service is still not great (we do live in the boonies) but it's much better.

As a result, we have several generations of obsolete cell phones kicking around. So, here's my public service announcement..... (you knew there was some reason for this post, didn't ya??)

You can take these old phones to your local police station and donate them (tax deduction!!!) the police partner up with worthy causes (like battered womens' shelters, etc) and put them to good use with people who need them. Or, another option is to help our troops by donating them here.

If you are feeling less altruistic.... go here, this company buys old cell phones for a small amount of money (somewhere between $5-$20) and gives them a second life in underprivileged areas/countries.

Are you ready for some FOOTBALL????

Hmmm.... the Superbowl...... I'm usually more excited about Superbowl weekend.... I guess that's because the Patriots are usually playing and this year yeah, ummm well not-so-much.

This year I'm torn.... what's the best part of the Superbowl..... the commercials? or the food?

I have no control over the commercials -- if you ask me, the last couple of years they've been kinda crappy anyway, but.... I can help you make the best damn dip EVAH (that's Boston-speak for "ever")

Buffalo Chicken Dip
2 8-oz pkgs of cream cheese
3/4 cup of hot sauce (I use Frank's Red Hot Buffalo Wing Sauce)
1 cup of Ranch Dressing (I used Hidden Valley Ranch)
Shredded Cheddar Cheese

Mix cream cheese, hot sauce and ranch dressing -- (a food processor works really well here, otherwise it takes forever to mix until smooth.... it still tastes the same if its not smooth, but it looks a bit sketchy with lumps and chunks) -- pour into shallow baking dish -- fold in a good handful of cheddar cheese -- Bake at 350 for 15 minutes top with a handful of cheddar and bake for 10- 15 more minutes. It's really wicked easy (that's Boston-speak for it's a simple recipe)

Serve hot with tortilla chips or Fritos scoops

Some notes:
1. You can fold in chicken as well cheddar... the originally recipe called for canned chicken (2 of the tuna-sized-cans), but that grossed me out and I find that the recipe is just as delicious without the canned chicken, so.... do what you like..... but I skip it
2. This makes a ton of dip.... for a smaller group, you can use half amounts and it turns out just fine.
3. It's Superbowl Sunday so take a diet-vacation -- because, let's be honest -- this recipe is the equivalent of rubbing a tub of Crisco directly on your ass..... but it's really, really good.
4. Lastly, every time we are invited someplace people ask me to make & bring this or they just ask for the recipe outright..... it's very, very popular! If you decide to try it.... let me know how it goes!

Enjoy!

Where is jail?

Such a strange question......

I'm a good girl.... have always been a good girl..... and even when I thought I was being a real bad-ass, I was really just Holly Hobby letting her braids down. I mean, I never hung with bad kids.... I never got into trouble.... my definition of "bad" was really just mischevious.... so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I don't know where jail is.

My brother called me this morning -- apparently a cousin of ours landed himself in some hot water recently. Overall he's a good kid, but he's got really, really bad judgment. He's one of those kids who got caught every single time he did anything even slightly wrong..... he should know better than to take chances.... and to make matters worse, he's got a mouth on him. He thinks he's very charming -- but it's so fake..... people can see right through him.... and it just gets him in deeper.

Anyway, he's got to serve 90 days..... and innocently, I asked where.

Mrs Big Dubya: So, where's he gotta go?
Brother Ro-Ro: Jail
Mrs Big Dubya: Hmmmm, where's jail?
Brother Ro-Ro: I dunno... Could be Dedham, could be South Bay.... I think there's one over on Nashau Street by the Fleet Center.... I dunno... I've never known anybody who had to go to jail. I don't think they'd send him someplace really bad.... it's not like he's going to prison... he's just going to jail.

I'm not sure why I'm surprised that I don't know where jail is.... but it did strike me as odd.

Is this the same dog?

Geez, I'm just wondering.....

Happy Monday!

What people do at highway rest areas?

As I mentioned in yesterday's post..... I made the trek back to Boston on Friday. The 'lil man was outstanding..... both on the ride and in the restaurant we met Aunt P for lunch at.

Saturday was a very busy day too..... I got up and went for a pedicure with Aunt P.... Granny babysat, which was a nice treat. Next, Aunt P and I took the 'lil man to visit his other grandparents, the Big Dubya's parents. He was a doll..... charmed the pants right off them. After that visit, we picked up Granny and went out for lunch --- pureed peaches weren't on the menu, so the 'lil man decided to just sit in his seat and snooze. After lunch, we went wedding-gown shopping for Aunt P (she still claims that she's gonna marry Mr Tall Guy, but we still have no firm date).

The 'lil Dubya could not have been better..... he woke up and just started yammering away to all the ladies in the shop. One woman couldn't take her eyes off of him and kept promising (threatening) to "put him on a cracker!". Someone's gonna have to explain to me why people think I want to hear how they are going to eat my child, but I digress.

Okay, all of this goodness had to end, right? YUP..... and of course, it happened on the Mass Pike on the way back last night. At that point in the trip, there isn't a whole lot I can do.... we are still a good hour and a half from home.... and an hour into the trip.... turning back was not an option either. We stopped at a service area, had half a bottle and that seemed to calm him down.... so, we got back on the road. Of course, after about 5 minutes he started to scream again..... what can I do? I pulled into a "picnic area".....these places are so sketchy. There was a pick-up truck, two 18-wheelers and a limo..... a limo? you take a limo to a highway rest area?

Focus, I must focus on the child..... I locked the doors and climbed into the backseat. Once I flipped on the interior light the 'lil man calmed down again..... hmmmmm..... interesting...... could it be? .......does he just not want to be in the dark? Hmmmmmm I can't exactly drive down interstate 84 with my interior light on, or could I? Well, maybe if I could dim it a little..... if only I had some tape........ so yes, I used a diaper.... I used the tabs on the diaper to tape it over the light. The 'lil Dubya seemed a bit amused to see his Pamper dangling from the ceiling of the car and we got back on the road. 10 minute s later, he was screeching again..... we pulled into a rest stop yet again..... more random cars..... all of these people can't have screaming babies.... are they really having secret rendez-vous? Oh dear..... focus Mrs Big Dubya, F-O-C-U-S.... after the second half of that bottle and some good old-fashioned cuddling (yeah, new fangled cuddling was probably happening in those other cars) I was finally able to get the 'lil Dubya back to sleep and he stayed that way for the rest of the trip.

Family Restrooms

Being that we made the all-too-frequent jaunt from our humble home in CT to our hometown just south of Boston this weekend.... we had yet another opportunity to take advantage of what is known as a "Family Restroom" at a rest stop on the Mass Pike. Anyone whose had the opportunity to travel (or even just to go out in public) with a child knows how great these restrooms can be..... enables parents to use the bathroom while keeping an eye on their little ones..... change a diaper.... help a toddler "go potty" -- I do however, have a bit of a complaint. I'm thinking that these facilities must have been designed by men..... I don't say this as a slag at men, but...... because the changing tables (similar to those pictured above) are never located anywhere near a sink..... How are you supposed to wash your hands after you've changed a baby's diaper? You certainly can't leave the baby lying on that flip down table while you dash across the bathroom to wash up..... and trying to wash your hands while holding your baby is a pain in the butt. If the Big Dubya's with me, I end up bringing the babe out handing him off and going back in for a hand-washing..... when I'm on my own, I do what I can..... but wouldn't it make more sense to just design these facilities a bit better? The Westfarms Mall has a changing station with a sink built in (must have been a mother that designed it!)

Just a thought....

Then again, I suppose I should be grateful for the number of places that have such changing tables..... I mean, the ideal situation is the family restroom -- either a mother or a father can attend to the little one's plumbing needs. In second place is the mens/ladies room that has the changing station inside.... granted, not quite as convenient -- but fine nonetheless -- enables you to change a diaper with relative ease. However, I met Aunt P at a restaurant for lunch on my way back to Boston yesterday -- we went to the cutest little Italian place, Il Forno. At first I was a little concerned.... not everywhere is baby-friendly, but honestly -- the people there couldn't have been nicer. The waitresses and the hostess went out of their way to make sure we had everything we needed for the 'lil guy. Our very adorable waiter even went so far as to offer to hold/occupy him so that I could eat my meal..... granted, we didn't take advantage of this very kind offer -- but the gesture was certainly appreciated. The food was amazing by the way, and very reasonable.... but, there was no changing station in the restroom! I had to change the 'lil man's diaper in the car! Now, granted -- we change his diaper in the car all the time, but.... it's January, in New England..... it's cold out and after sitting in a restaurant for an hour.... the car had gotten chilly!

How old is Mrs Big Dubya?

So..... in general, I've been a bit less than open with my coworkers about my age. I know that I'm younger than most, older than some, but..... I don't know.... the older I get, the less I like people knowing.

In the past couple of days, I've been discussing a new job opportunity with a big cheese at work. In the course of the conversation, I asked him if he'd like a copy of my resume.... to help get familiar with the work I did prior to joining the firm I'm with now. At first he said no, and then he said yes..... so, I scampered home and dusted off the old resume and added some of the stuff I've done lately. The Big Dubya was a champ and did his best proof-reading work..... but I was suddenly struck by the fact that all of the positions I've held since graduating college were all there in black & white..... including the dates!

The jig is up..... they are all going to know how old I am!!

Now, I know that when I interview somebody, I usually do some quick math to see how old/young the person is..... why would I expect anything less from anyone else?

I considered omitting my first job or two out of college.... they aren't that important anyway, right? Then I thought about it some more and realized that they might take my years of work experience into account when they calculate my new salary...... hmmmmm money..... I suppose it's not a big deal, but.... Ugh, I hate getting old.

I'm such a joiner

I just couldn't help myself.... the Big Dubya, Cape Buffalo.... all the kids are doin' it

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Mrs Big Dubya!
1. Mrs Big Dubya is only six percent water (feels more like sixty percent).
2. Mrs Big Dubya can usually be found in nests built in the webs of large spiders (The Big Dubya slays spiders on my behalf).
3. A rhinoceros horn is made from compacted Mrs Big Dubya (ooohhh, strong like bull).
4. The liquid inside Mrs Big Dubya can be used as a substitute for blood plasma! (I guess I am pretty good in a crisis, huh)
5. Mrs Big Dubya can pollinate up to six times more efficiently than the honeybee (Just call me fertile myrtle -- Hubby, I'll be home at 6:30!).
6. All the moons of the Solar System are named after characters from Greek and Roman mythology, except the moons of Uranus, which are named after Mrs Big Dubya (Awesome... it had to be Uranus!)
7. Only one child in twenty will be born on the day predicted by Mrs Big Dubya. (Just as accurate as an ultrasound!)
8. Mrs Big Dubya has often been found swimming miles from shore in the Indian Ocean (all this and atheltic too!).
9. In Japan it is considered rude to talk with Mrs Big Dubya in your mouth (Not touchin' it!).
10. Mrs Big Dubya is born white; her pink feathers are caused by pigments in her typical diet of shrimp! (make mine with cocktail sauce... the spicy kind!)

Tax Time

Yes friends.... it's that time of year yet again.... it's time for me to get all pissed off and foul-mouthed over the obscene amount of taxes the Dubyas have to pay each year.

Our friends all told us that "once you buy a house, you'll have some deductions....you guys pay a lot of taxes because you are married and you don't own anything yet". Then it was, "once you have kids.... you'll have some more deductions.... you pay a lot of taxes because you have no dependents."

Well dear readers..... we bought a house..... he had a baby..... and you know what? that is a load of bona fide bull-shit! Yes, you heard me.... I said bull-shit!

I've discovered that the Dubyas made a big mistake early on in their young adult lives.... they went and got educated! That, my friends, was mistake #1. Mistake #2 was that they chose to work hard.... hard enough to move up in their organizations.... increase their level of responsibility and in some cases enjoy a certainl level of success in their chosen careers. Because, usually (if you are doing it right) along with hard work and success comes a reward..... CASH. I'm not going to pretend that I get up every morning and leave my precious little man because I want the fulfillment --Ummmm NO! -- I'm not afraid to admit it.... I go to work for one reason, and one reason only....BECAUSE THEY PAY ME!!! And let's take it one step further, my theory is that if we can't afford for me to stay home.... (and, we can't) and I have to go to work.... then I'm going to work my tail off and get them to pay me as much as possible....for working as little as possible. I'm not leaving my little man for anything less than the most I can get out of them. So many women won't say that they work for the money.... but I'll say it.... I work for the money. I went to college, I went to graduate school -- and sure, getting smarter was nice, but I did it because it meant I could earn more money.... I could live more comfortably.... shallow? sure, but it's the truth -- it's my truth.

Now, if you told me 5 years ago that I'd be getting paid what I get paid now and yet, I'd still spend the majority of my time flat broke..... I would have laughed in your face. But it's true.... and you know why it's true??? Because, after paying Uncle Sam and then for our health insurance, our dental insurance, our life insurance..... putting a modest amount into my 401K.... I get to take home somewhere in the neighborhood of 54% of my paycheck..... AND, that's before I pay the nice women who watch my 'lil guy every day! That's also before I pay property tax or excise tax.

I'm not entirely sure I couldn't do better collecting cans

Mending Fences

So, a few weeks ago I was reading one of my new favorite blogs where the writer shared five confessions -- this is probably what spurred me onto my guilty pleasures post. Anyway, I couldn't help it..... I was dying to know what the hell Beth did to this Hillary woman that it was still gnawing at her 14 years later..... oh, and for the record, I recognize that it's none of my business, but I still want to know.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about my own life.... my own friendships..... and any fences that I should have mended down through the years, but.... for one reason or another never did.

One came to mind..... it's been bothering me for years and years..... but what should I do about it?

It was about 10 years ago, I was fresh out of college. I had a very close girlfriend... ladies, you all know this friend. She's the one you used to cut class to go to the mall with.... the one that was shaped nothing like you but somehow managed to wear the exact same size in just about everything. She was the one you shared all your clothes with.... your wing-woman, your partner in crime.... she picked up the pieces when you had a fight with your boyfriend.... and kept her mouth shut about what a jerk he was when you went back to him anyway.

She and I were inseparable my junior year in college -- she was a senior and our boyfriends were roommates..... even after the boyfriends were no more..... we still had each other. We did everything together and when she graduated, I couldn't imagine having to go back to school without her. Of course I did, and she came to visit often.

After graduation, she got really serious about a guy.... and forgot rule #1.... never blow off your friends for a guy. She called one day to break plans with us to go out with him, yet again. I snapped and was terrible to her..... I totally let her have it and we never spoke again.

Over the years I've thought about tracking her down many, many times..... I've even told our other friends (who'd also lost track of her) that I was going to do it..... but I didn't.

I was sorry we fought, sorry we lost touch, sorry we never fixed it. I heard through the grapevine that she married the guy.... but still, I couldn't get up the courage to look her up.

Well, after reading Beth's post and her regret over this Hillary person (c'mon Beth, what did ya do, huh? I won't tell anyone -- promise!) I decided that it was time to bite the bullet. So, I looked up my friend..... it took some creative internet research (what did people do before the internet???), but I found her work email address and then I deliberated.... hemmed and hawed for days and days..... then I decided to pull the trigger..... On Tuesday morning I sent her an email. Email is safe..... a phone call would be awkward..... email is perfect for a giant chicken like me. I basically told her that I was sorry for that argument, sorry we lost touch and that although I don't expect us to go back to being friends -- I wished her well.

The second I hit "send" I felt like my karma had been through some sort of deep cleansing ritual.... It was like, now at least I can say that I tried.... now, the ball is in her court.

At the same time there was a weird sense of anticipation...... would she receive my note well? would she respond at all? would she appreciate the effort? would she think I had become one of those pathetic people we used to make fun of? or worse, would she think that I was some sort of nut-job stalker?

I waited..... it was like when I was single.... wondering if "that guy" would call..... hoping he would, but not knowing what to say if he did

The wait was tough..... but it was short...... I got a response within a couple of hours..... and it was positive. Turns out, she felt bad too.... missed me..... had thought of getting in touch many times..... but also, never did. She didn't think I was nuts.... it almost seemed like she appreciated the gesture.

Over the past few days we've been catching up via email..... and I feel so good about it. Again, I don't expect us to go back to being inseparable.... we're grown ups now (well, sort of) and grown ups generally don't share each other's clothes and take turns putting dinner on an already-over-extended credit card. But it's a wonderful feeling that this unfinished business is no longer dangling out there.

I do have to say, it is extremely odd when someone asks you what you've been up to and you have to attempt to summarize the past 10 years of your life in a few sentences for an email.... Hmmmm, changed jobs a couple times, got married, went to and graduated from Grad School, bought a house, moved out of state, had a baby...... I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm glad we are getting to know each other again -- and that we can resolve any hurt feelings that have lingered for all these years.

So, thanks Beth..... and honestly, if any of my 5 readers have a fence to mend.... I strongly recommend doing it.... it's hard..... it requires more courage than I usually have (email helps with this) but, it really feels great -- and I'm guessing that the person on the receiving end will probably feel pretty good to.

Farewell Christmas

Not sure why, but this year.... I'm having a hard time letting go of Christmas.

Maybe it's because it was the 'lil guy's first.... but putting all the stuff away is just bringing me down. Don't get me wrong -- I hate Christmas shopping....and all the stress and family-nonsense associated with the holiday itself..... I keep swearing to the Big Dubya that next year we are just staying home. But it seems like this year... Christmas was that much more special..... and now, it's all over......

The house has lost that pine scent..... the mantle just has a few pictures, now. There is no more excitement when we go to the mailbox.... we know there aren't anymore photos of friends' children coming.... just bills from holiday over-spending. The neighborhood is a bit dark now.... as the holiday lights are slowly but surely coming down.

There is no holiday quite like Christmas...... and it's only 341 days away

Guilty Pleasures

Isn't it funny?..... Everyone has guilty pleasures. You know, those really stupid things that you enjoy -- but are totally and utterly embarrassed that you do.... and are oh so mortified at the possibility that people might find out..... For some people it's TV shows.... I remember guys in college who refused to go out until after Melrose Place (the Big Dubya still claims he used to tape it for his brother.... uh-huh, sure you did)..... they wouldn't admit that this was the reason, but it was..... we all knew it was. I find it now with reality shows.... sure, in the beginning a guy who watched Survivor was cool -- but, what man isn't a little ashamed to admit he watches American Idol or Dancing with the Stars? I mean c'mon?

In the spirit of openness.... I thought I'd share some of my personal guilty pleasures....sharing isn't easy for me, but..... it's a new year, I ought to try some new things -- who knows, maybe some of you will be overcome by your desire to share your own guilty pleasures..... and you'll be inspired to de-lurk.... anyway, here they are..... in no particular order

1. General Hospital -- have been watching on-and-off since I was 7 years old. I had totally kicked the habit.... and then we got Dish Network.... which offers SoapNet.... now I can watch GH several times a day.... I can even watch a marathon of the previous week's episodes on weekends -- it's a sickness people! Oh, and Aunt P called today to say Robert Scorpio is coming back!

2. SoapNet..... yeah, well.... see #1

3. Taco Bell. Yes, I know -- everyone has a weakness for fastfood once in a while.... But, I love it all -- McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's..... but Taco Bell is like the very bottom of the fast food chain. I mean, does anybody know what kind of "meat" they use in those Meximelts??? Well, you know what?..... I dunno and I don't care -- they are yummy dammit!! oh, and while you are at it -- make mine with Fire Sauce

4. Tabloids -- they are like train wrecks.... I can't help myself. Now, in fairness -- I don't buy them.... but while standing in the check-out line, I can't help but wonder.... what kind of drugs did Tom Cruise start taking? and is that really his baby? will her family stage an intervention and stop all this couch-jumping-madness?

5. YooHoo! Yes, I know.... the whole concept is just gross -- it's not really milk, but it does include "milk product" -- I don't care.... it's luscious chocolaty heaven in a gorgeous yellow bottle -- and for years, I just couldn't get enough of it.....the Big Dubya used to have to go fetch it for me at all hours..... But I did it -- I quit..... I got that big delicious chocolaty monkey off my back -- but every day's a struggle.

6. Rolling Rock..... (Rolling Rock Lite too) -- something about this premium beer from the glass-lined tanks of Old Latrobe..... add a slice of lime.... so refreshing -- 33 people, 33

7. Chicken patties..... you know the ones I mean.... those round chicken patties that are served in every grade school, high school and college in America. When I was in college they were known as "chicken pucks" as they resembled hockey pucks.... I've also heard them called "cluck pucks".... and "door stops". They aren't at all nutritional, but with a hamburger roll they totally versatile.... add some marinara & cheese.... chicken parm sandwich.... add some buffalo sauce.... buffalo chicken sandwich.... the possibilities are endless with these beauties!

8. Speaking of chicken..... that chicken they have at the Japanese place on the food court. I know it's loaded up with fat.... and whatever that stuff they squirt all over it is, but man is it goooood. I can't go to the mall without passing through the food court to see if they are giving out the chicken samples.

9. Keeping on the sample track..... I love when they give out samples at the market..... you know when they set up at the end of an aisle and let you try the "featured product". I never intend on buying it -- it's usually food that simply would not eat -- but trying a tiny taste often satisfies a curiosity..... BJs has these samples on a regular basis.

I was hoping to round this out to make an even 10..... but, I'm kind of struggling here for 1 more..... well, the last couple have been a stretch -- I'm sure they exist.... I just can't seem to get my little brain to cough 'em up and I'm a bit too impatient to delay the post -- so..... here they are.... I'll update if I'm struck with some more.... please feel free to share your own guilty pleasures

PS Happy Friday!

Girl Scout Cookies

So, here I am.... at work.... and, like so many people in the big-bad-business world, lately I've been inundated with parents selling Girl Scout Cookies for their daughter, niece, cousin.....

Now, I am a product of Catholic Schools.... 12 years of Catholic School to be specific.... so I know what it's like to have to pedal this kind of stuff. Chocolates, calendars, gift-wrap..... we were constantly being asked to sell stuff to supplement our exorbitant tuition. My parents hated the idea of asking friends & neighbors to buy stuff -- my Mom stayed at home and my Dad was in construction.... so it wasn't like he was going to ask the fellows on his crew if they'd like to buy a nifty scented candle. As a result, it wasn't unusual for me to be among the lowest-sellers in the class.... a humiliating position to hold..... but character building nonetheless. That is, of course, unless we were selling these..... Dad was good for buying a couple of cases of those on his own.

Anyway, it's hard to buy from one co-worker and not from another -- so I end up buying a box from just about everybody on our floor..... what does this add up to.... a bunch of damn cookies that I don't even like that much. I suppose it's not really that I don't like them... these ones are quite good with a mug o' tea -- but for what you get.... they are expensive! I mean really -- $4 for 16 cookies? Based on my math..... the Girl Scouts should hook up with Nabisco. You can get a pack of 34 Oreos for $1.88 on sale at Stop & Shop this week.

In other news -- although I haven't been writing about it, I have been fairly good on my diet. Sadly, I gained back some of the fluid weight I lost from being sick earlier in the week, but I'm still down about 7lbs from Christmas -- not too shabby. I'd be happy with 6-8 more..... hmmmm, I'd be ecstatic with 10 more, hell.... 14 more, I'd be damn close to orgasmic -- But..... we should probably stay in the real world -- if I could get down 6 more I think I could be pretty damn giddy.

My featured diet product for today are Kashi Bars.

Now, I can be honest..... the first time I had them -- I thought they tasted like wood. But, I hate to waste food and decided I'd finish the box..... I'm hooked. They are expensive -- but you can either get them on sale at the supermarket or you can get a variety pack at BJs.

The Numbers:
Calories 130
Fat 5 grams
Carbs 20 grams
Fiber 4 grams
WW points 2

Please note..... this is still delurking week.... and I'd love to learn I have more than 5 readers :)

I felt yucky!

So sorry for the lack of posts as of late..... Mrs Big Dubya got a nasty dose of some sort of stomach flu. It started off on Saturday night when the Patriots trounced the Jags..... Mr Big Dubya enjoyed a couple of adult beverages, while Mrs Big Dubya decided to polish off a bottle of wine. So, on Sunday when Mrs Big Dubya woke up feeling less than 100%, Mr Big Dubya replied with a whitty..... are you sure you aren't just hung-over? I couldn't argue.... it certainly was a possibility, but I didn't feel hung-over.... I felt sick. Around noontime the 'lil guy needed a nap, so I decided the two of us would lie down together.... and it was all down hill from there. I don't want to be too graphic, but let's just say this was not a hang-over!

The Big Dubya was a champ..... he went above and beyond the call of duty. In addition to taking care of the 'lil man who has a miserable cold, he waited on me hand-and-foot and tackled the unpleasant load of laundry that resulted after the 'lil man puked all over himself, me & our bed.

Fortunately, I am back to normal today -- and, on the bright side -- this has done wonders for my diet.