Waiting with baited breath...

I know you are all wanting an update and funny anecdotes...it's coming, I swear! Swamped today at work, but I'll try and post something this afternoon with a few choice photos. Miss you all...

"The Real World" DC...

Oh my. Have I mentioned that I LOVE having boys?? You pregnant friends of mine? Sucks to be you, because middle school girls? They're crazy. Now is the time of the trip when all of the girls have started spending just a leettle too much time together. Cattiness is starting, feelings are getting hurt, gossiping and pouting and sulking commence. Sweet Jesus on the Metro...it's more than I can take.

You would all be very proud of me. No cussing in the van. Well, not that anyone can hear me. The kids are mostly not on my nerves...save for one, who shall remain nameless, but let's just say that this girl wouldn't know happy if I drew her a picture. I can deal with a lot of things...whiny 8th grade girl isn't one of them. Suck it up, Sally - it's the trip of a lifetime that you didn't even have to PAY for. Please. Try...just try...and be HAPPY. Ugh.

But today, today was classic Rebecca. Okay...so we're going to the White House and Congress. It's a metro day. She specifically said she'd like us all to be a little more dressed up. I asked if this might be the day to wear cute shoes over comfortable shoes. Absolutely she said. Hm. We were supposed to metro to the White House, and then metro to the capital building. Somewhere along the way, after I put on my strappy shoes...after the White House. The plan changed. We walked it. WALKED IT. Are you hearing me? Do you understand the way our nation's capital is designed?? The capital building and the White House are on OPPOSITE ENDS of the city. OPPOSITE ENDS by design! And the sidewalks in DC? They're not cement. They're this composite stony garbage that when you're walking in sneakers? Brilliant. When you're hoofing it across DC in strappy shoes? Sucky as hell. I wanted to light myself on fire.

And here's where you'll be proud of me. All the crabby moms in their sensible shoes who hate me? I had to pretend like this walk was no big deal. "Aren't your feet killing you??" they would ask... "I can't believe you wore those shoes." Nooooooo, I'm fiiiiiiiine! I wear heels all the time. No way was I giving them their smug satisfaction that I was anything less than completely thrilled with my decision to wear my strappy shoes on our fancy day. Inside? Dying. Dy-ing. But smiling. SMILING. My dogs were not just barking or howling - they were on fire. En fuego as my dearly departed Toni used to say. I could not believe we WALKED that and then had to walk all over the capital. This was not supposed to happen.

As if it's not bad enough I'm on this trip with a bunch of boisterous Republicans (no offense to my Republican readers. I love you...I do. I don't understand you...but I love you.) The big joke of the night? Someone saw a t-shirt that said "Friends don't let friends vote for Democrats."

Well hardy-har friggin' har. My mouth is bleeding, but I said nothing. Apparently Dick Durbin, the Democratic Senator from Illinois was at Mt. Vernon at the same time we were today. Several of them made comments about how they saw him, wanted to shove him down the hill and/or walk up to him and tell him about how they DON'T pray for him at night. I couldn't even make this up. REALLY? REALLY???? If they start saying anything about Obama, I'm going to lose it. And it won't be pretty.

Needless to say I was so glad to have some time away from the group in Old Towne Alexandria tonight. Alex and I found a nice little thai restaurant. We had a good meal, bought him some clothes for graduation, spent some one on one time together chatting and walking the town. It was really nice.

That's all for now. I did buy some wine at the Miche Tavern yesterday. Four bottles. We'll see if they all make it home.......after today, I'm not so sure I can hold out until the end of the week.

Miss me yet??

Hi guys! Greetings from our nation's capital. Alex and I are here on fabulous Washington, DC field trip and WOW has it been an adventure already. There's so much I could talk about! We're keeping a fast pace here. I'll sum up quickly and try to follow up with funny anecdotes later. I just now got to a place where I could even attempt to try sitting down on my laptop. Everyone is running out of space on their digital cameras, so I'm downloading all of their pics to my laptop and burning them to disc for them so they an erase and have space for the next day. SO MUCH TO SEE!

Saturday: Old Post Office with trip to the top of the clock tower, chance happening on the Spring Garden tour of the White House. Only happens TWICE per year - I was within spitting distance of the Oval...took a lot of restraint not to test that distance. Next Holocaust Museum, Arlington Cemetary. There's something else from that night - see I'm already forgetting.

Sunday: Iwo Jima Memorial (found accidentally because I missed our turn...yes, I'm driving one of the vans and I'm the LEAD van), Gettysburg. Unbelieveable. Must go back there. Vietnam Wall, Lincoln Memorial after dark, Korean War memorial VERY cool at night.

Monday: Ford's Theatre, Washington Monument, WWII Memorial, Jefferson Memorial, Bureau of Engraving and Printing, tour of the Pentagon. Loved getting to see how money is made. At one point I was standing right in front of $64 million dollars. MILLION. Yowzers.

We're averaging 4 miles a day walking. 4 MILES. My dogs are howling, kids. I could spend weeks here and never feel like I've seen everything. We're riding the metro, and I must say, DC really has this public transportation thing down. It's so very cool.

It's a family affair....

And we have a brand new shiny member of our blogging family to welcome today!!! Happy birthday in the truest sense to Paige Renee - born this morning to the young Kathy and her husband, Eric. Paige is 8 lbs, 20 1/2 inches long, has a head full of newborn hair, perfect skin, new baby smell and is, of course, beautiful. She is, after all, my illegitimate love child.

Phew! I'm so glad THAT'S over and this baby finally has a name.

On to less important matters...

Dear sweet blogging family that I love - I leave this weekend for the DC trip...you know - the trip I never got to take in my youth. As long as I have wi-fi, I will be blogging from our nation's capitol. We've been given very strict instructions on how we, as adults, are expected to behave as chaperones. Alex's teacher was VERY specific about reminding us that this is NOT a vacation, this is a FIELD TRIP. So that means we have to worry about school rules and image and shit like that. I guess since this isn't a vacation, I don't get to start the morning with a bloody mary, move into marguaritas for lunch and end with dirty martinis...in other words, I can't act like EVERY MEMBER OF CONGRESS. HA! That was funny right there, I don't care who you are.

Seriously - I can't drink...I can't wear shirts with spaghetti straps or short shorts or ripped jeans or flip flops. Ummmmm...why am I going on this fucking trip? Actually the only part that concerns me is the flip flop thing. Those of you that know me know that the sisters prevent any spaghetti strap action from EVER happening in this lifetime, and I don't even wear regular shorts let alone some flippin' daisy dukes. And I can, if necessary, keep myself off the hooch. But really? REALLY? Stick me with 8th graders all day and you don't think I need a glass of red before bed?? What about my New Year's resolution??? Anyway, she doesn't actually care if we wear flip-flops - only when we're going to the White House, but we'll be doing SO much walking that it's probably not a good idea. Bugger. They're easier to pack.

She also said that no one needs to try and stand out and be "the fun parent." "We're all fun" she said. Ummmmm, no...you're not, actually. Some of these people wouldn't know fun if I showed them a map on how to get there. She was specifically referring to a dad a few years back who rented movies in the hotel room every night of their stay and kept the kids up until 2am. Okay, that's not my idea of fun...lack of sleep? Notsomuch. Lack of sleep for 8th graders? Definitely not a good time. I am an avid supporter of sleep...ask my scouts who HATE me when I make them go in the tents when other boys are still up and being rowdy.

I plan on bringing games with me. I plan on bringing Uno and Blink and Yahtzee and cards. I was even thinking about bringing my Texas Hold Em set and letting them bet with Cheetos. I'm bringing along every skit I've ever done with Scouts. I was thinking about picking up some foam visors like we did on fabulous beach vacation. If I got one for each kid it would cost me a whopping $6. We're going to have some down-time and I like my teenagers AMUSED! That's okay, right? Dontcha think? As long as I enforce proper bed times?? I don't think I know how NOT to be the fun mom. Julie would do the same thing...I know she would.

Cheer up sleepy jean...

So once again, I've tried to blog several times to no avail. In the wake of this national tragedy, I'm finding it difficult to find the funny. This is becoming like 9.11 to me, where the intense, never-ending media blitz is engulfing me, depressing me...how about you? I just can't imagine! And the news that someone was actually concerned - granted, this was 2 years ago - but concerned about him enough to alert the police? That's some seriously scary stuff he must have written. So what happens now?

On a much lighter note - acupuncture today, kids. I'm very excited to go see Minna again. I haven't taken ibuprofen in 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS. That's HUGE for me.

AND I'm ... sing it with me now... all by myself....all by MYSELF....the young Kathy has left the building. Tomorrow morning at this time we will have a new edition to our blogging family. A baby girl - who's name is....yeah, I have no idea. Kathy has beaten this horse to death, pardon the reference, my horse-loving baby-having friend. I've stopped asking "does she have a name" and started asking "what's the frontrunner today?" I don't think she'll know what to name her until she sees her. I have a feeling she'll come to some conclusion in the morning and then change it again once she's born. It happened to her. She was supposed to be...wait for it...a REBECCA. Yeah, that's right. A Rebecca. hahahaha. And at the last minute she became a Katherine.

Also worth mentioning...we're halfway through chemo with Carol now. Hi Carol! "Chemo with Carol" sounds like a bad talk show on discovery health. She's bald as a baby but doing okay. Carol, my mom and I talk frequently and are frequently relaying information back and forth between each other. On Monday, Carol was telling me that my 90-year-old Grandma is having trouble with her balance and keeps falling. My uncle wants her to start using a cane. She won't. So I relay this information to my mother.
"Hey mom - you might want to talk to Carol, Grandma keeps falling all the time."
"She keeps falling? Why is she falling??"
"I don't know? Because she's 90? Talk to Carol."

Fast forward to yesterday. I get an email from my mom. She's emailing Carol to see what's going on with Grandma. She wants to know why grandma is crying so much.

Last night I talk to Carol again and she asks me about the crying. I have no idea. "She's not crying when I talk to her...she must be crying with my mom." Carol and I have at least a 10 minute conversation about how grandma must be more worried about Carol than we think and blah-blah-blah-discussion-cakes. Carol says she'll talk to Grandma.

Now I talk to my mom. I tell her that I talked to Carol. We don't understand the crying.
"Does she cry every time she talks to you?" I ask
"She's not crying with me" says mom
"Then why are you asking about crying??"
"Because of what you said the other day!"
"What did I say the other day?? I never said she was crying!"
"Rebecca, you told me that Carol told you that grandma was bawling all the time."

OH MY GOD. I didn't say BAWLING, I said FALLING. I said she's FALLING all the time - as in losing her balance because she's 90 friggin years old!!!

At this point my mom and I lose it. For the love, are you kidding me?? Laughing my ass off. Here we're all getting all concerned about grandma because she's crying all the time - and it's not even friggin' happening. Carol and I have now decided that all important information must be in email form only. I'm glad I didn't call my grandma on this one. Can you imagine? The conversation with an already forgetful 90-year-old about her crying and being upset when she's not? THAT would go over well.

Oy.

Get off my bruised back, man!

So I know - I suck. I'm a bad, bad blogger. You can't give me any more guilt than I've already given myself. I used to be Catholic for cripes sake.

I've started two different posts this week, but there was a problem. They were horrible. They weren't funny, they lacked anything interesting. Some would argue that most of my posts are that way and I've still managed to keep the the blog going for over a year. (chick-chick-boom! mra3=dork [that was for you katmat])

It's Friday the 13th, kiddies. *insert scary movie music here* Julie's birthday is on the 13th, so every now and again her birthday falls on a Friday the 13th *insert tinkling piano AND scary movie music here*. One year, and I think it was actually her 13th birthday *insert dramatic duhn-duhn-duhn music here* we rented every Jason movie there was and had a slumber party. Back then I was tough. Back then I could handle the blood-n-guts scary movies. Oh who am I kidding...Julie's brothers had to walk me halfway home for YEARS. Still do. I'm a huge scared-of-the-dark-frady-cat sissy. *insert canned laughter here...and pointing*

I can no longer watch scary movies. They freak me out. In fact, I'll share my neuroses a little further. Most of you already know this, but I really do believe that there are "killers" that follow me and are just waiting for me to be
a) alone in the dark outside
b) locking the basement door when it's late and therefore dark outside
c) getting something out of my car in the garage when it's late and dark.

And these aren't The Killers, mind you - because that would be awesome. (I want a lunchbox with Brandon Flowers pictures on it. I love you Brandon, call me.) Yes, I have their button on my jean jacket. Don't you judge me! Have you seen him? He's dreamy cute and I love their songs and oh my, it's John Taylor from Duran Duran all over again. I'm sick, I know. Shut up.

Back to the OTHER killers...lowercase k...they live somewhere around my barn, I think. I'm not sure, I've never actually seen them. They're sneaky. And I just know that if...well, let's say that I do "a)" and go outside when it's dark and scary all by myself. They are going to stalk me in the shadows, possibly whispering, wait until I'm totally freaking out with the hairs raised on the back of my neck, and then jump out of the darkness and mutilate me and put me in my trunk. Actually, that's the way all 3 scenarios end. And the death is long and torturous and drawn out. I'm not even sure if they're men or women, but they're out there. And they follow me. Like not only can I absolutely NOT go outside in the dark in MY house, I also cannot go outside in the dark at YOUR house. Not by myself anyway. Not going to happen, not unless you want me dripping my blood out of my trunk and onto your driveway. Do you want that? Do you???

I've been close to death a couple of times now. I've actually teased the killers and gone outside in the dark by myself and gotten to the hairs raised on the back of my neck part, which is after the the stalking and whispering part! Close calls - because we all know what comes next! The jumping out of the darkness and mutilating me part. Luckily I escaped by running back to the house screaming. That's how you scare them off. That's a free tip from me to you if ever you're confronted by the killers in the dark.

So happy Friday the 13th everyone. Snuggle under a blanket and watch a good romantic comedy tonight. Forget that scary stuff - it's overrated. Besides, you can come to my house anytime you want and hang out with REAL killers. Geesh.

*ETA: Click on the Eileen link to see her latest entry in her local paper. She blames ME for her Idol addiction. The nerve! You can't blame someone else for your own lack of willpower, Eileen. It's time you took responsibility for YOU.

Baby Got Back!

Okay, you know I love you guys - because I am about to post half naked pictures of myself. When I told Kev-head that I needed him to take pictures of my back because I wanted everyone to see my cupping marks ... his response? "Your blog is turning into porn site!" Ummmm what? And then quickly followed it up with "I might have to read it more." Okay, Mr. Funnyman...whatever, let's go take some pics! NO ONE is allowed to make fun of my pale skin, my tan-lines, my bra marks, my freckles or my back fat.

Are we clear about the rules?

Good...here we go...
According to Kevin and the girls here in the office who have seen the one at the very very top...it actually looks worse in person. But still, it doesn't hurt. I swear. I still have some tightness in my sore shoulder, but not as bad as it was. I need to stretch and drink more water. duh.

Now for the bad. Screaming, raging, hellacious migraine last night. Wanted to die. Visual impairment, dry heaves, ice pick headaches all leading up to the main event, the vice gripping unyielding light-yourself-on-fire, pray-for-death migraine. I'm still not all the way over it today, my right temple is still hurting a bit. New naturopathic doctor says my metabolic by-products must have flowed into my head. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. I'm more than willing to ride this one out. I've ridden everything else out...brutal massage therapy sessions that left me in tears, chiropractors adjusting me and making me hurt MORE, physcial therapy hell, MRI's, multiple x-rays, yadda-yadda-yadda. Sometimes you have to take the bad to get the good. So we'll wait it out and see what happens. In the meantime she said maybe we won't do the cupping next time, just the acupuncture.

I think I'm okay with that...

Go shorty, it's your birthday, we're gonna party like it's your birthday...

What am I doing today??? Getting poked and getting hickeys!! Hooray!!

WHAT? Has Rebecca lost her fucking mind??

No kids...I haven't. I went in for acupuncture and cupping today. I didn't know about the cupping part until I got there. For those of you unaware, my shoulder problem has been flaring up again. Not wanting to go back to the den of torture called physical therapy and take even more prescription anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers with who-knows-how-many long term side effects, I decided to break up with Western medicine and try a new approach.

I was nervous about the acupuncture...I've never had a problem with needles, but I've also never voluntarily stuck a dozen of them in various places on my body and left them there for 20 minutes. I didn't even feel them. I kind of felt her pushing them in, but while I was laying there I didn't feel a thing...well, that's not true - the one on my neck just below my hairline was itching a bit. Then she said she wanted to do some cupping....mmmmmmm, yeah...okay, sure, why not. I remember Gwyneth from some news story where she showed up with circular bruises on her back. I wanna be like Gwyneth - let's go.

Yeah, her bruises were small...mine? BASEBALL size or bigger. All over. No, it didn't hurt. It sure looks like it did, but it didn't. I swear I'm going to have Kevin take pictures tonight so I can post them tomorrrow. It looks wickedly worse than it feels. It promotes blood flow and movement of bodily fluids and Qi ... don't you want your blood and your Qi flowing??? I know I sure do. I could use a little more Qi or Chi or whatever you want to call it.

Overall my natural healing experience was a positive one, and I really like this naturopath. She sent me home with some natural remedies (which cost me all of $25, I can't even buy a 10-day supply of prescriptions on that, let alone a month), some dietary changes and overall I feel really good right now.

Other than the giant hickies...

It's official, I'm a brunette!

I feel...smarter...

HA!

Anywho - so today's festivities? Eyebrow waxing. That completes the birthday week of pampering quite succinctly I would say, wouldn't you? Now that I'm a whole new person, looking YEARS younger than my age...I feel like I need a new identity! Who am I? What's my favorite food? What's my brunette name? What's my motivation? Musical influences? Hmmmmmm....

But before we delve into that absurdity, let's stop here: yesterday while at the hairdresser, my shampooer was...a dude. Now I've had male shampooers before...but this guy was like - 20. And tall...super tall...and didn't seem, well...gay. I mean, I hate to stereotype, I really do, but let's face it, there are a number of gay men in the hair care industry. And however inappropriate it is of me to say, it's strange to think of a straight male hairdresser. Why? I don't know. I have no problem picturing a straight male chef - even if cooking is "woman's work" (HAhahahahahaha).

So what's this guy's motivation? Let's say he is straight. He spends his days after school (if he's in school - this dude looked YOUNG) shampooing women's heads? Do you tell your friends this? I mean, you're hanging out and someone says "yeah, I work at the oil-n-go...what do you do?" "I shampoo hair." Is he some whacko with a head fettish? ew! And I was his head candy for the day? double ew? Did he video the session??? Triple ew. He didn't seem shocked by my unicorn-ness...so that's a plus. Is he going to become a hairdresser or stay a shampooer? He mixed my color, too, and it looks faboo, so I guess he knows what he's doing.

Just something to think about ladies and gents.

Yesterday I did something I've NEVER done before - I had Liz (aka most amazing master stylist EVAH) dye my eyebrows the same color as my hair. I'm not sure what's happening to me. I used to have eyebrows, I guess I still do, but they're getting lighter...or *gasp*...GRAYER (is that a word?) and becoming non-existent looking on my face. Hrmph. And with my new dark hair color I was afraid I would wash out. So she dyed them. It's so cool! I have eyebrows. But then, then I had too much eyebrow. I mean, it wasn't a unibrow or anything, but they were just...too much. So today I had them waxed. Hooray!

Now I'm a whole new person!
I can turn my head, thanks to the gifted hands of Natalie,
I have faboo hair thanks to Liz and shampoo man,
I can wear sandals thanks to non-English speaking Asian man at the nail place,
and I have fantastically shaped eyebrows thanks to some chick down the street who could fit me in.

It's brilliant.
I know it takes a village to raise a child...apparently it takes a village and an entire week of lunch hours to make me look like a girl. Who knew?

It's my bicentennial!!

200 posts, babies...2-0-0...Oh 200 zero zero party's over oops out of time...

AND it's my birthday week!
AND there are motorcycles or 4-wheelers or something backfiring at me....ye.......wha? Yeah, there's a motorcycle dealer behind my building. Every now and again they test drive the 4-wheelers by peeling out in the empty parking lot right outside my window. Nice.

So Tuesday was my birthday - congrats to all of you who were on top of your game and calling and emailing BEFORE I posted and reminded the world that it was my birthday. And for those of you that forgot - well - you suck! No, I'm just kidding...you don't suck...you were just busy, I get it. You ran out of gas, had a flat tire, didn't have money for cab fare...an old friend came in from out of town, someone stole your car, there was an earthquake, a terrible flood...locusts! It wasn't your fault! Better luck next year.

I went for a mani and a pedi with the lovely Laura - who also forgot, but was quickly reminded when I called her to go get our toes done. AND she paid for the mani part of my mani/pedi. Brilliant! Thanks Laura!

Yesterday found me in so much pain I couldn't turn my head. ugh. Back to square one. WHY??? Why am I in pain? What did I do? Is it the new fake Coach shoulderbag? Am I paying for crimes against name brands? Or shoulder straps? Was it the extended ride on the bike with the Kev-head on Monday night? He did hit a few choice bumps that I felt in my hair that night...yeouch. Was it the pastry-filled bowling bag stress? So I went and got a massage. This girl had magic in her hands, I swear. I *heart* Natalie...I'm not afraid to say it. Lemme sign my new name. Mrs. Natalie. Mrs. Rebecca Natalie....

Now TODAY I have a hair appt. Hooray! I'm going to be a brunette by 4pm. Double hooray! The problem? I can't really move my head...and there's that whole leaning back in the sink thing when they wash your hair. I'm not sure how that's going to happen exactly. One girl here at the office suggested I wheel over a hospital bed like contraption and they can just push a button and elevate my whole torso to the sink. Ummmmm, yeah...I don't think they have those at my salon. So I improvised that idea and decided they should wheel those massage chairs over to the sink...you know, the kind you kneel in - then I could just be face down in the sink instead of face up. BRILLIANT. Can't you just see me as they rinse the dye from my hair as it runs all over my face...instant tan! Two-for-one combo platter...I'm a genius.

So mani/pedi on Tuesday, massage Wednesday, hair appt. Thursday...what should I do tomorrow for my birthday week???

Ba-na-na-na-na-na You say it's MY birthday...

Yes it is...the big 36...here's lookin' at you, 40, because I'm closer to 40 than I am to 30...how friggin' depressing.

So Saturday of Bowling Weekend found the girls and I at the college football hall of fame. We were short one girl, who was too hungover to leave the room. Whoops...guess she can't hang with the big dogs...what? I'm a weenie, too? Yes...okay...you got me. Could have just as easily have been me in that bed all day. Our poor Misty-9er sacrificed herself for the team. Thanks Misty! So the four of us hit the trail.

First - there are no nice people in South Bend. We were greeted on Friday by the crankiest desk person EVAH, who was screaming at co-workers and slamming down phones. Brilliant.

Second - the bartender said we were the funnest people ever at the bowling alley. Ordinarily I'm used to hearing this...but considering the competition, it wasn't much of a compliment. She says no one ever really has fun in there. uuuuummmmmmm, what? whodawa? OMG, lady, come to our bowling alley - it's like a carnival compared to this death march you call a lounge.

So off we go to the CFHOF...Owen had already pimped out the place as the most fun place...so I had high expectations. Well lemme tell ya, they have a section where you can train like the football players, and that involved a SCALE. That's one thing you don't present to women who are trying to have fun. A SCALE - for you know...weight. Ummmm, ick. I did step on, and I was officially depressed. What did I need? To run in place. We each took a turn. I got 68 steps in 30 seconds. That almost sounds impressive, until you realize the point placement...yeah, I think I
got one point for my effort. On to field goal kicking! YES! I can totally do this, right? It can't possibly be as hard as it looks, right?

WRONG. Yes, that's me, trying to kick a field goal. Notice the form, the grace...the heels. Yeah, that's right - HEELS. We all were wearing heels...and trying to kick field goals. Excellent. The ball never left the ground. Zero hang time. No lift. Sounds like my chest at 36. Chick-chick-boom! (mra3=dork)

Then there was the "extras" room - the stuff that isn't football, but college football wouldn't be the same without it. The marching bands, the cheerleaders, the homecoming queens!I'd like to thank my court, because you SUCK and I WON!! ha!

And then we were onto the field for some real foottball action. Yes, we're playing with a purse, we didn't have a football! I found out after the fact from Owen that if we'd gone in and ASKED, they would have given us one to borrow. Somehow this was more fun.The snap is good! Ryan's in motion...TOUCHDOWN!!!! Yeah, babies!!! So that's day two in a nutshell. Happy Birthday to me! On to Wagner's ribs tonight...mmmmmmmmmmm.

The agony of defeat...

Yes...it's true - I went to the state bowling competition. I didn't expect to win, hell, I didn't even expect to place. I did expect to not embarrass myself. That, my friends, did not happen.

We get to South Bend, check in, get to the alley with plenty of time to spare. Beautiful. They asked me for my member card. I don't have one. Nor do I ever remember seeing one. This is a problem. The other girls have theirs, I don't have mine. Bugger. I knew this going in. The problem is, the USBC chick, doesn't have my name in the system anywhere. According to her I have not been sanctioned - paid no fees..."have you bowled 21 games?" Ummmm, YEAH - 3 games every Thursday for 28 weeks, yeah, I've bowled 21 - even with the nights I missed.

So I get the league secretary on the phone. She gives me my sanction number. I go back to USBC chick - she looks up my number. Oh, she says...here it is. Oh, I say - I'm Rebecca Chum. Yeah, that's right...CHUM...you know a fish, a salmon....I'm chummy....chum-chum-chum-chum. OMG - so after 20 minutes of me FREAKING OUT because they weren't going to let me bowl because I'm not a sanctioned bowler - I find out that I'm fine, just as long as I bowl under an assumed name. Brilliant.

But now that's all settled, right? I'm good to go, right? Time to grab a cocktail and get in bowling mode. I join my team in the bar - they're very cordial to their new teammate Mrs. Chum. I come out of the bar, put my shoes on and open up my bag to grab my towel, my ball and my shoe covers.

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
WHAT HAS TAKEN OVER MY BOWLING BAG?????

Hmmmmm, it seems I forgot...I forgot the butter braids I put in my bag the night before. The cream cheese and cherry butter braids I had bought for some fundraiser from a teammate at the bowling alley. I put them in my bag to take home. And then forgot about them. FORGOT. Ummm, yeah, the idea is that when these things THAW, the yeast activates and they EXPAND. When they expand they explode from their wrappers filling my bag with yummy pastry, cream cheese and cherry goodness. I bowl in 15 minutes and my ball, my towel and my shoe covers are chock full of cream cheese and cherry filling. at state. STATE. I'm supposed to bowl 6 games and my ball is covered in cream cheese. This is not good.

I station myself near the garbage can, use my towel to clean as much of it as I can and then throw it away - no sense even washing it at this point. Shoe covers? Garbage. Luckily there was a spray bottle of something and a towel hanging on the garbage can, I used it to clean the remaining braid filling off my ball. I wanted to cry.

I bowled my singles and my doubles games that night...
Doubles... 143,109,117
Singles... 167,142,127

My knee - the one I had surgery on 17 years ago - yeah, that started swelling and hurting like a mutha for no good reason either. During game 2 of my singles deal my foot stuck to the floor causing me to fall on my knees...OVER THE FOUL LINE. Awesome...wait...it gets better...I threw a strike. That didn't count. My only consolation is that even with that strike I wouldn't have had my 500 series. Whatever.

Team bowling on Sunday we won't even discuss. It was like I'd never bowled before. I didn't even record my scores because my series total was like a 350. Brilliant.

OMG - so...there's more to tell from this weekend, but that's all you get for now. We got a little tipsy on Friday night and had a great time....that's all I have to say about that.

Holiday....celebrate...

So this is the "big weekend" - state bowling babies! The girls and I are off to lovely South Bend to compete against other chicks with balls - bowling balls, that is. I have my camera and should come back with a fistful of new stories to share. I'm sure I'll have friends before my team has seats. And I'll blog about them and invite them to the blog and it'll be GREAT.

I've heard that beer is pretty good...I might give that a try this weekend, too.

I'm taking off shortly...camera...check...CD with special songs for the weekend...check...ipod full of every other fun song we could want...check...speakers...check...cell phone charger...check...bowling bag...check...kids schedules taken care of...check. I'm outta here. You guys have a good weekend. Think good thoughts for me that I don't choke in front of people. I've been bowling well lately, I'd like to keep that up.

One chair to rule them all...

So the-man-who-signs-my-paycheck has back problems. Has for sometime now...and he bought a really cool ergonomic chair that I love a couple years back. But the back problems continue. Rumor has it he really hurt himself playing Dance Dance Revolution. I would have paid money to see that. So he's been going through the sadistic torture ritual of physical therapy and we've been swapping stories. Since then, he's purchased yet another ergo chair. He told me this before it came, and I was really excited to see the new purchase.

Well, it's here. And boy is it something...ready...
Yeah. That's it. He's sitting on an inflatable ball. INFLATABLE BALL people. It looks like he's hatching something. It's hysterical! And how about this ad?? Does that chick look possessed or is it just me? It's supposed to be the bees knees. It's supposed to force you to sit up straight, keep both feet flat on the floor, because if not, you will roll right off the sucker. He let me sit in it. It wasn't bad, but I don't know if I could do it for a whole day, and definitely not a whole week. Sometimes I like to come back to my desk and plop down. Can you imagine? I would bounce right out the door.

He says it's like getting an ab workout just because you have to suck in and sit up when you're using it. I'm seriously considering purchasing one. I'll keep you posted...

So much to say, so much to say, so much to say...

And so little time. As you might have guessed from my lack of posting, I was busy as a bee last week. So glad THAT's over. Phew! Working at work? Whodathunk? This week isn't looking any better actually, but I thought I would take a minute and introduce you to...

my family.
Ah yes...the family portrait. I had the first one...FIRST ONE taken for the church directory this year. I was very excited about it. And here it is...Doesn't it look sweet? Isn't it nice. I mean, it's not the best...but it'll do. Jen says I look too fake. She CLEARLY doesn't understand how much I hate myself in pictures...that's a good smile for me. My eyes are open. The boys have their hair cut now, so they don't even look like that anymore. But.it'll.do! What? What's that? Oh yeah...it won't do. Because I'm not showing you the whole picture. On purpose. You see...if I show you the whole picture, you'll laugh. If I show you the whole picture...well...here goes...
Ummmmm, yeah...that would be my husband's hand ON MY ASS in the church directory photo. On...my...ass. Seriously? Seriously...did they pose all the families this way?? And my hands, ugh, my hands...all pudgy and dry and folded in my lap. Ew. And you can see that strange little bench we were straddling. But mostly, my husband's hand is on my ass in the church pic. Great. It just looks weird, the way he's sitting, and wholly unnatural. Oy vay.

I'd also like to take just one minute and bitch about my brackets. I was fine. FINE until the Longhorns decided to act like they've never played basketball before wasting the brilliance of Durant who should go pro next year. I picked 12 of the Sweet 16, which is good, I guess. And congrats to Scottish, the Salukis are once again in the dance...

Friggin Longhorns.

Happy anniversary...

happy anniversary
happy anniversary
HAA-ppy anniversary
(circa The Flinstones...)

It's been a YEAR...a full friggin year of blogging, folks...194 episodes of pure, unadulterated nonsense. I've lasted more than most sit-coms. We've pretty much covered every topic, haven't we? Booze, shoes, kids, crazy parents, husbands, vacations, booze, food, music, movies, swearing, booze, current events...

It's been quite a year, looking back. I like having this blog around, it helps me remember what the heck I've been up to.

It's also JBrave's husband's birthday. He doesn't ever come out here, not even to lurk...but I have to acknowledge the guy's birthday anyway because he's Julie's hubby and I've known him for what? 25 years? That deserves a little shout out, I guess. So happy birthday to Chris!

Now on to more important topics...no time to revel in the anniversariness of the day.

My husband, well, he's upgrading...trading in on a newer model. Not ME you sillies...the bike...the Harley. Yeah, I've had this blog longer than he's had that bike, but it's time for bigger and apparently better. Meet the new little woman. She's a 2007 Harley Davidson Road King Classic. (insert Tim Allen man-noises here) Yes, this is the color he's getting. Yes, he's getting the white-walls. She's a beauty, and she better be a keeper, by golly, because I'm not doing this again. I cannot, repeat CANNOT talk about bikes and money and money for bikes any any any more. It's exhausting. And truthfully. I DON'T CARE. Do not care. Anymore than he wants to hear me prattle on about shoes, I cannot listen to him prattle on about chrome this and engine that and blah-blah-blah-cakes. He should be picking it up as I type this, I don't know if he'll stop by with it or not.

My complaint about this bike? There is no graceful way to get on the sucker. I tried. In the showroom. In front of people. It wasn't pretty. I almost fell. It's like mounting a friggin' horse, it's so big. (That's what SHE said...chick-chick-boom! mra3=dork) So I have a vision in my head of me trying to climb on this bad boy at some bike event and looking even more like an idiot than I already do at these things. All the real biker chicks will be pointing and laughing at the newbie. Wouldn't be the first time.

Wanna hear a joke as told by the Pastor at Alex's confirmation class last night?
How do you make Holy Water?
You boil the hell out of it.

Thank you - thank you - I'll be here all week, try the veal.

Well, it's been a great year - anxious to see what happens THIS year. With the hubby managing Owen's baseball team, wine tastings, fabulous beach vacation the sequel and Alex starting high school...it's sure to be a doozy.

The nerve of some people...

Well Friday was the big who-ha...the fandago...the fundraiser for Alex's trip. Nevermind that we basically had TWO WEEKS to form committees and plan a spaghetti dinner for 300, a silent auction and a fun fair. Awesome. I like to think I did more than my fair share. I supplied Dance Dance Revolution for the fun fair (game console, dance pads and all), baked goods for the cake walk (mandatory) and collected items from the silent auction. And then there was the spaghetti dinner - this was the committee I was actually on.

I pooled my resources...got donations from the community to help offset our costs. Made plenty of phone calls - faxed many letters. Printed the "thank you" place mats. The gal who was leading our committee was great - nice as pie and told me that some women, who work at the school, are "caterers" and "offered to help." I put all of this in quotes for a reason.

When I get there after work the hall looks great - tables are set, some people are eating, spaghetti is cooking. My job? Greet the peeps and take their money. BRILLIANT! Then the place fills up...FILLS UP and we are...out of pasta. Ya know how they say a watched pot never boils? Well, lemme tell ya - when you have 100 pairs of eyes on that pot it takes even loooooonger. LONGER. out of pasta? They didn't precook any. Whodawa? Scuse me? You are CATERERS and you didn't precook the pasta??? So I'm politely sending people away so they don't have to stand in line...you know...like the senior citizens who can barely walk the line as it is in their corrective shoes. Let's not make them stand in friggin' line. "Go check out the items in the silent auction I say" or "maybe have a cup of coffee and chat for a bit"...nice ... then we run out of pasta completely...not just the cooked stuff...all of it. And they still only have the one pot on a 10 burner stove boiling away.

I politely make a couple of suggestions to the kitchen about re-using the water so it won't take as long to boil - met with angry stares.

After we run out of pasta for the 3rd time, and we're running out to buy more pasta for the 2nd time, and let's remember that I'm the one out front dealing with the disgruntled masses, trying to smile and make it seem like we've got it all under control - well, I've had it.

I go back to the kitchen fill two more pots and put them on the stove. Mumbling from the professionals. I square up, look at them and say "you can say whatever you want about me, but when she gets back, I'd like to have some boiling water for her to put that pasta in."

Needless to say I was a "bitch" and a few other choice words they mumbled under their breath. She told me to get out of her kitchen. I told her that when she was ready to go out and tell the 75-year-old woman who has been standing in a line for 30 minutes why a caterer can't boil more than one pot of water at a time, I'd be happy to leave. Until then, shut your pie-hole.

Okay, maybe I didn't say THAT. But I held my ground. She told me I was starting shit. I told her the only thing I was starting was boiling water on the stove. It was labeled the worst spaghetti dinner ever. EVER. And they've been doing this for 20 years.

I have a plan for Owen's year. I will redeem myself!!!!
ETA: OMG OMG OMG - so Alex went to his friend's house after school, and friend's dad was outside working on the car when I pulled up to get him after work. Says to me "I hear there were some problems in the kitchen on Friday" "Yeah, it was a little hectic" "I heard there was a rather loud altercation..." I'm hearing things like this a lot about this event. Someone told me that people were COMING DOWN FROM THE FUN FAIR TO SEE THE DRAMA IN THE KITCHEN. I guess that drama was me and supposed-caterer lady. Great. I wonder what kind of rep I have now, because SPL works at the school, so she can spin this any way she wants. Lovely.

You got punk'd!

HA!

Okay, so awhile ago I got this phone call from a business associate asking me if I wanted a free lunch. Ummm, yeah, have you met me? OF COURSE I want a free friggin' lunch. And then she says it involves a favor. Now hold on just one second - a favor makes this lunch notsofree. What is the favor?

Well, let me tell you how it played out.

Yesterday I go to said business associates daughter's bridal shower. Do I know the daughter? No. Does she know me? No. And when I get there, Nancy is pretending not to know me either. Perfect. I take a seat in the middle of the room. A nice lady, Denise, is kind enough to sit with me because I don't know anyone. Charming.

The bride comes by - ummmm, I don't think I know you. Yeah, you don't. My husband is a friend of your fiance. Really? she says. How does he know him? I have no idea, I said...I was just given an invitation and told to come there. Really? She says - getting more confused by the minute. Fine - Denise is asking far too many questions as well - you know, those really personal questions - do you live around here? Do you know the bride or the groom? Neither - that threw her for a loop.

So there I sit, making small talk and drinking punch. The bride approaches again - what is your husband's name? I tell her - oh, so your last name is...and she thinks for a minute - oh crap, she recognizes my name. I didn't consider that. I lie. I tell her, no I don't work at such-and-such...I'm a stay at home mom. Oh, she says, confused almost to the point of panic - there must be two of you. Yes. Denise offers up that she knows someone with my name as well - hmmmmm, I say...there must be 3 of us then...hahahaha...I'm so friggin' funny.

And now it's time for my theatrics because this bride is on my like flies on shit. So I get up, approach the bride and ask her who is running the shower? My mom, she says and takes me over to introduce me to my business associate, who is pretending she doesn't know me.
Me: Hi, this is a lovely shower, but there's a problem.
BA: What's wrong?
Me: I'm at the wrong shower...
BA: WHAT?
Me: The shower I'm supposed to attend is next weekend...I don't know you or anyone else here, and I'm at the wrong shower.
BA: You're kidding me?
Both of us are now talking pretty loudly and have the attention of most of the room.
Me: I feel so awful - let me pay you for the food I ate!

I rush off to get my purse, knock it over and dump the contents all over the table. You could have heard a pin drop. The bride is actually rubbing my back at this point and telling me it's okay - "you can just stay" she says.

"NO!" I scream - "I've never been so embarrassed- I have to leave" and I now HURL the contents of my purse all over the table. Someone actually gasps...NO ONE is speaking. I gather my things, hug the bride and rush out the door. SILENCE.

BA rushes out after me - and we both die in fits of laughter - she calmly goes back into the room and says "What was in her purse?"

They don't get it.

I come back in and she introduces me, tells the room it was all a gag - and says that the game is to list the contents of my purse.

No one can believe it...I walk over to the bride-to-be, tell her I am, in fact who she thought I was and shake her hand. She is amazed...she got punk'd, at her bridal shower - for a game. Apparently I was pretty good because most of the room felt horrible for me and could not believe that someone could actually show up to the wrong shower. I ate cake, had some coffee and was on my way. One woman asked if I could do it again so they could get it on video.

Are you kidding me? You can't just recreate art!
HA!
My short stint as an actress is over...it was fun.

Danger, Will Robinson, Danger...

First, the end of the soup story - they at it. They at it all - pretty quickly actually. If anyone had complaints about it, I never heard them. 9 crock pots of soup GONE in 40 minutes. 40 MINUTES! 9 CROCK POTS!! THAT is a lot of soup! They are worried that they won't have enough soup next week and I'm not working - but - get this - I told Alex's teacher that I WOULD BRING SOUP. WHAT is wrong with me, exactly? Why do I offer up this shit? I can't stop myself. No one asked me if I could bring soup - I just volunteered myself. "Well...this is on my way home, and even though I'm not working I guess I could drop off some soup." And then I thought to myself - DUH! The working isn't actually the HARD part - it's MAKING THE FUCKING SOUP. Sweet Jesus in a crock pot - it's a condition I have and it's a problem. I should be medicated...or studied...or both.

Didja see today's news? Apparently a couple of 6th graders had sex in shop class - yeah, that's what I said...6th graders. The administration didn't tell anyone it happened, I'm assuming they punished the kids involved...but they didn't send home a notice to all the parents saying "Hey, we had an incident..." - and the parents are outraged. OUTRAGED because it happened 4 months ago and they are just now finding out. Huh. I don't get it. I'm sure punishable offenses happen all the time at middle school - but I don't think the school is under any sort of obligation to write home every time. I think all of the parents of the kids in that class should have been informed, depending on what they witnessed. Part of what people were saying is that it only lasted 30 seconds. However unimpressive, I don't think the longevity of the act has any bearing on the magnitude of the incident.

I mean, does the school have to inform all parents every time there's a fight? Or there's an incident on a bus? Or they find drugs in someone's locker? Did this really warrant a schoolwide informational letter?

But the part that concerns me is that the Attorney for the Indiana Dept. of Education said that "the kids weren't in any danger." Not in any danger?? Not in any physical danger, maybe - but I think any 6th graders are in danger if they are not only choosing to have sex, but choosing to have sex IN CLASS. I also think the kid who was the lookout is in danger - and any kid who saw this is in danger of having their whole view of the appropriateness of sex at this age altered. This whole situation is dangerous...and PS - the teacher was IN THE ROOM. For those of you who went to Liberty - can you friggin' imagine having sex - in Mr. Bike's class? Wasn't that his name...the old guy who wore the lab coat. Remember him? CAN YOU EVEN FATHOM THIS???

And they are saying that they "had sex" not that they had "oral sex" - we're talking full on intercourse here, people. WTF??? Joy - what would your school do? Any other teachers lurking? Any parents have an opinion?

The soup story, volume II

So I couldn't do it...I couldn't lie. Those of you who know me know that I can't lie to save my life anyway, so to lie, to the Lutherans...to their faces, about the soup - wasn't going to happen. I thought I could make a go of it, but as soon as I got there, someone asked me for my recipe. Ummm, recipe? Yeah...now where did I put that recipe? Hmmmm...

Lemon-rice soup recipe:

1. Get out crock pot.
2. Go to Pappas Family Restaurant
3. Order quarts of soup
4. Gently (and this is important) pour the soup into the crock pot with minimal splatter on your work clothes.
5. Turn on crock pot.
6. Serve!

They couldn't have cared less. It was gone in 10 minutes...everyone loved my secret lemon-rice soup. BRILLIANT.

It's Wednesday...again...and I'm supposed to be bringing soup...again. Well - I haven't had a moment of downtime since I got home. Some of you might argue that I could have made soup on Monday night instead of having wine with my girlfriends who stopped by after the school board meeting ten different shades of pissed off. I couldn't! I had to make the chips & salsa that I learned how to make at my knife skills class! I mean, I had to feed them, right? What kind of hostess would I be??? It was bad enough I made them sit there and watch me put away groceries while we chatted...I couldn't have them starving, too.

So today, new plan...new lie. I can totally do this. Except, the soup might suck. I bought some powdered broccoli/cheese soup package ... just add water! And it's in the crock pot right now cooking away. But here's the kicker. I needed hot water. And we don't have a stove here, so I used the hot water from the coffee maker. And YES, I just pushed the brew button and let it fill up a coffee pot of hot water and poured it into the soup mix. The real problem? I didn't want to use the filter basket because that TOTALLY reeks like coffee. The pots are fine, but the filter basket? Smells the like coffee past and it's not good. But if you don't use the filter basket, the water kind of sprays everywhere...and not in the coffee pot. So I put some clean filters in there and I tasted the water...it didn't taste like coffee....so I think I'm good.

Seriously? I'm serving coffee-broccoli-cheese soup to the Lutherans tonight. I'm even more pathetic than last week. I didn't sign up for next week's supper. Phew! I'll let you know how it goes.