OOOH. It's NEW. And SHINY

Remember when you were a kid, and you saw something advertised on TV only to find that it was a total piece o' crap when you actually held it in your hands?

The Easy Bake Oven comes to mind in this category. Many many jokes have been made about baking food with a light bulb. The fact that it continues to sell like its own proverbial lukewarm cakes is a testament to the gullibility of children. Lite Brite glows dimly second.

Sometimes, though, something came across your childhood radar that was just as cool as you hoped. Something that touched your childhood in a way that transcends commercialism and advertising. The rare tangible object that really brought happiness. The closest I can get is really the Barbie Dream House. I really Barbie'd it up in my day and didn't really covet much else than that.

Recently, as an adult, I have been lucky enough to ride the roller coaster of material joy. One word: iphone. OOOH. It is just as cool as it looks on TV. I wish we had wifi at home, though. I don't get to make facetime calls without the wifi. And since I bought the smaller data package, I have to figure out how to purchase apps using wifi only. But I'm getting it. And the organizational features are excellent. The potential glimmers like El Dorado.

On the other hand, and on a smaller scale, I have been waiting for the entire summer (which, in terms of TV seasons, is getting longer and longer) to wait for the return of my beloved Bones. I know, I'm an adult. I shouldn't anticipate the fall return of my TV shows. But I DO. And it's not a BIG thing or anything. I just have my little infatuation and crush, and Oh, forget it. Just leave me alone.

I didn't get to watch Bones during its premiere on Thursday night (can I point out that Thursday is overly populated with nearly every good show on TV, while the rest of the week languishes in crap?) But as soon as a solid hour of time with my honey, my DVR, and my snack foods was liberated, I sat front and center on the couch.

Meh. Not even I, with my little fan-adoration could stop from snickering at forced lines or eyerolling at a far fetched plot line. Really?!? After the whole summer, this is what I waited for? How I Met Your Mother came back pretty strong. Modern Family posted a robust effort. Even Community dragged Betty White out for a quick gulp of her own urine. Even though they boarded the Betty White wagon a little late and in forced fashion, they at least TRIED!

Bones? Even with the magic of TV, they couldn't manage to make the group stay apart for a year? How is it that this hyper-educated Scooby Gang controls the goings on of the FBI and the thinly disguised Smithsonian? How can a scientist, though lacking social skills, be wearing a magenta bra and Monday panties in the middle of a third world jungle? What the hell was going on?

How could something I wanted so badly be so flimsy?

The only thing I took away from my Sunday night TV watching was an impulse for a new haircut.

**By the by, if you've missed me, blame my parents. I can't blog and hang with the fam at the same time**

The first rule of Julie Club: Do NOT talk about Julie Club

My daydreams have developed notions of grandeur. While I used to fantasize about myself in a size 4 with breasts enhanced and perky with the silicone of youth, a handsome Samoan bringing me Mai Tais that I sip as the surf washes over me a la From Here to Eternity....I realize that fantasy is
Dead.

Now, I believe that even the paradise of Hawaii needs to be tweaked to suit my changing needs--needs that no longer prescribe my appearance, but more fundamental needs of serenity and contentment. So, here is the enhanced vision of Club Julie, a new kind of paradise. I present it to you, and when it comes to fruition (magic? Teleportation? Technology is moving very quickly), and if I like you, I will invite you to revel in the wonderfulness that it is.

First, no bikinis here. Everyone is clad in mumus. Practical, cool, flattering, and not demanding on the abdominal muscles. Second, since sun is damaging to the skin, Club Julie has a series of curving interconnecting, shaded walkways. These are frangranced with the natural aroma of indigenous flowers and enhanced with the sound of gentle waterfalls or surf. It's like an outdoor spa. Along the paths, you will encounter small clusters of chairs for visiting, and lone hammocks for reading or snoozing. If you do stop to rest, our cabana aides, not scantily clad muscle-bound oafs, but rather healthfully fit, sensitive young men will bring you a light sheet for cover and a pillow. They will offer you a choice of adult beverages, or if you prefer, fresh baked cookies and milk. As you doze, an aide will ever so gently push your hammock so that it feels as though you are resting in a faint silent breeze.
In fact, silence is a fundamental precept of Club Julie. During the day, near silence is observed so that every guest of paradise may have continuous thought without being interrupted. iPods are, of course, a welcome distraction. But the purpose of our muted tones is to permit women the luxury of uninterrupted concentration.
During the daytime hours, staff are available for all kinds of spa services and treatments. However, our staff are well-educated, interesting people, well versed in current affairs. When you register with us, a staff member will research your specific areas of interest, and be able to discuss anything you'd like, retrieve any materials you request for study, and act as facilitators to other guests who may be compatible with you and engage with you in meaningful, adult conversation.

Afternoon rain showers are scheduled at 2:30, our guests' most popular nap time, to allow them to snooze without the guilt of 'not taking advantage' of the ideal weather.

If you do wish to participate in outdoor activities, cushioned running trails, walking trails and bike paths wind through our native forests. The temperature is constant, and the humidity in the native forests is slightly reduced for your fitness comfort. We also have a special SPF filter so that sunblock is unnecessary.

The property is also populated with adorable puppies and kittens. If you choose to play with our fuzzy friends, they are available to you. They are lovingly cared for by our veterinary staff, and genetically engineered never to age. Perfect.

At 5 PM, the quiet mood of Club Julie becomes more social, as guests are invited to gather around the bar, eat delicious food (our menu does not include chicken nuggets, hot dogs, frozen foods of any kind, or food shaped as licensed charcters). The food is fresh and delicious and made to order. Rousing conversation, stimulating discussions and boisterous laughter are encouraged. While there is no closing hour, guests are encouraged to go to bed when they are tired--9 PM?

The rooms have luxurious linens, giant beds to be occupied by single person, washed daily in the natural rainfall, so as to be continually fresh with zero environmental impact--we want your stay to be guilt-free. Each free standing hut is simultaneously luxurious and spare--everything you require, without indulgence or opulence. Hand carved volcanic rock tubs are continually, naturally filled with hot natural spring water. Fresh mumus are delivered daily, and you will not accumulate any laundry to take home with you--if you ever wish to leave. In-room Kindle service assures you endless reading materials, and individual lanais with rocking chairs offer you breathtaking views and solitude.

MOM! How many more minutes? Can you come change the TV channel? MOM! He's in my room! Make him leave. I'm bored! MOM! Clooney took my LEGO! MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM

So, teleportation isn't here yet. I'm working on it. I bet you Club Julie would be the most popular resort in the world. I would live there. I wanna be there now.

That hits the spot

I love Target. Everyone I know loves Target. I also love Lowe's. Not everyone I know loves Lowe's, but that is their personal shortfall.

Target's appeal isn't just to suburbanites like myself. My husband's sister-in-law (does this make her my sister-in-law?) is a city type who treks out to the suburbs for a Target trip. Its appeal, unlike Lowe's, is definitely skewed to women. Mostly, it seems, Type A women. Hipsters, grandmas, college kids, everyone can find something at Target. I think it's so universal that the nickname Tar-jay is unnecessary: no one feels compelled to make Target more upscale than it is anymore. Target is consumer heaven.

True, I have resolved to be less consumerist. To need, want, crave, have fewer accessories and crap cluttering the house. But the thing about Target is I can buy OTHER stuff there, too!

At Target, I can stroll through aisles of bins, baskets, and sorters, visualizing my hyper-organized alter ego. I can imagine cupboards and drawers lined with fashionista-patterned shelf paper. I can see office supplies stored away in tiny paper-clip sized totes. In Aisle 34 I can compartmentalize, label, and stow the disorder, both metaphorical and literal, of my life.

In Aisle 26 in the pharmaceutical section, I can picture myself thin. Healthy protein bars, diet supplements, vitamins, shakes, sketchy products containing 'magical herbs' all beckon and promise me a bikini ready body by summer.

Conversely, in the freezer section, I can satisfy all hormonal and emotional related food cravings. Everything from greasy potstickers and southwestern egg rolls to a rainbow of ice cream flavors and Chipwiches are ready to repair a damaged psyche or PMS.

Over in the clothing section, I can peruse the Target-ized versions of the latest trends. In fact, that white denim skirt I picked up is sure to fall apart after 10 washings, but then again, it will probably be out of style after 8. Tshirts are plentiful, and actually they wash pretty well. And I can always wear more shirts. The ever-useful yoga pants are right there, too. Comfy Saturdays. Solved.

And the shoes? The pleather wonder of the shoes? I actually never buy the shoes. For one thing, there is an inverse relationship between quality of shoe and weight of shoe, such that the wedge heels Target sells can only be worn by people with magnificently strong quads. I mean Mr. Munster had sleeker footwear. But, the kids' shoes are perfect..cheap and crappy sandals for summer? Check. Galoshes to splash in puddles (once)? Check.

Kidswear is perfect at Target. Especially for boys, who really don't care about clothes anyway. Graphic tees for summer? Yup. Swim trunks. Done. A dress shirt for that one night a year when the kids need one? $10 and done. Of course, the ever popular Spiderman underwear and Spongebob pj's are an excellent bribe if you're stuck with kids through the store. "We can get those if you behave through the grocery section."

For whatever reason, Target also has an 'intimates' section. And since I'm married now, and have only bad underwear and worse underwear instead of date underwear and monthly underwear, I can pick up a 12 pack for like $8. Perfect. The occasional night shirt can be found, too, if you're willing to pick through a bunch of Disney-fied grown up sizes (sleep shirts that have a dwarf on them that say "SLEEPY." Not even the most sex-deprived husband is going to want to caress a body clad in dwarfs. OHHHH. Maybe that's why they sell those.)

There's the toy section, but I'm skipping that, because I just can't take the chorus of "I want that" right now.

Finally, I suppose, are the groceries. Every packaged, high-fructose syrup infested, refined-flour having, artificially colored, flavored, preservative-laden food you can imagine awaits at Target. Individually wrapped baked goods, salty snacks that appear to have more salt than actual salt, and every sweet smelling NEW and IMPROVED cleaning agent you can imagine. I do love the new and improved.

I could spend mornings, days walking through Target's glistening aisles. The soothing fluorescent glow reflects off of the clam packaging to remind us that our homes could be decorated with the likes of Liberty of England, our bodies clad by fashion moguls of Izaac Mizrahi, and our kitchens accented with Graves designs. It's all possible. Everything from off-brand plasma TVs to Dora The Explorer umbrellas lies before you.

It's America. Made in China. And I love it.

Today's Etymology Lesson

I love words. I love puns. Last night, the mascot from the Bay Bears rolled his googly eyes at me: kids eating pizza. Kids offer Ted D. Bear a piece of pizza. He shakes his head no. Kids insist. I say, he can't--he's stuffed.

Thanks. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress.

So, one word keeps resurfacing this week. Actually, it's just the root of a word. The Greek root of a word. Perhaps it should be my mantra.

Idio-.

Say it with me i-dee-oh. Doesn't mean what you think it does. It means "proper to one" or "peculiar." (Dictionary.com: the ultimate word authority.)

Here are some of its appearances this week:

Idiot: "Particular, skill-less agent" Or, the one of the imbecilic names my kids keep shouting at each other in the back of the car. Even when M and I are doing something phenomenally nice for them--taking them to Steak and Shake and a baseball game--name calling persists. What is their deal? Morons.

Idiopathic: "of unknown origin, particular to one." Or, the 'diagnosis' of Sam's not eating syndrome. (SNES) Idiopathic Constitutional Growth Delay happens to be one of those phrases physicians toss around that sounds like it means something, but doesn't. Shall we break it down? We have idiopathic. Constitutional--well, we could argue that the teapartiers have Idiotic Constitutional Growth delay, but that's something altogether different. Constitutional? His mettle seems above average. Growth? Well there does seem to be little of that going on. Delay? That implies that the growth will happen. Just late. Figures. I'm always late for everything.

Idioms: I do love watching kids explore language. And I LOVE it when they fall short on the idiomatic expressions. For example, Sam keeps asking if I'm grabbing his leg. It took me forever to realize that he meant pulling his leg, as in teasing him.

Idiosyncrasy: Um. Hello? In Chandler Bing parlance: Have ya MET me?

I found some other fun words prefixed with Idio: idiolatry (self-worship, inflated ego) idioticon (a dictionary or glossary of a particular idiom or sub-language) idiorepulsive (repulsed away from one's self, as in heat). Also, there were some fun idiot words: idiot pills (barbituates) idiot's delight (solitaire. Note: no mention of Bejeweled).

So, an informative morning. Let the idiocy continue.

My Way or the Highness Way

Personal improvement is at the heart of my new year's plan. I know, I know. I've already failed all my actual resolutions. But, the new me is supposed to be more tolerant, more patient, more healthful, more of the good. This goal has been harder to achieve than I originally planned, because as it turns out, I'm quite mean. I'm judgemental, self-righteous, gluttonous, and verbally aggressive. I am a yeller, a bit dramatic, and I want the whole world to fall under my jurisdiction.
Queen Julie. Ruler of the Universe.
Yeah, that's right. I said it. Everyone close to me has always had their nagging suspicious about my plans for world domination. But now it's out there. Deal with it.
I am Queen Julie, Ruler of the Universe. Heed my decrees. There will be no wearing of full make-up to any athletic activity of any kind. You look ridiculous, women. There will no longer be 47 things to sign up for every week at my children's schools. People will stop making irrational decisions that do not affect me in any way, except to annoy me for their irrationality. Guilt, as a tactic of manipulation, is hereby abolished. Idiotic restaurant chains that sell food with 1,200 calories per serving will pay a fat tax. Food called salad, that really isn't shall be renamed: pasta "salad" will be known as oily pasta, potato "salad" will be known as mayonaissed potatoes, cole slaw will be known as fat cabbage. Public officials guilty of corruption shall be reassigned as lunch servers in public high schools. Movie stars and celebrities using their fame to advance political agendas shall be vetted to see if their agendas are permissible under my regime.
And if you think I am cruel and dictatorial, wait 'til you get a load of my sister. As next in line for the throne of Ruler of the Universe, she plans to abolish pets, children, and any non-HGTV cable programming. She plans to use the census information to provide a short & long term goal plan for each family on Earth. She will require BMI scales to be posted outside of buffet restaurants, to prohibit entrance of 25+. SHE will require families to adhere to sensible, rational relations, thereby banishing all holidays (secular and religious) to end squabbling. She makes me look like a benevolent and kind sovereign.
I let you know about my sister, next in line, just in case any one has any funny ideas about regicide.
And remember: closed mindedness will not be tolerated.

Internet Dating

Yesterday, I sat at the car dealership for three and a half hours to have tires replaced and horn repaired. After that circus of delight, I went home and firmly planted my butt in front of my computer.
I have recently received the actual full featured game of Bejeweled, which as one can imagine, is interfering substantially with my family life. I also needed to do my daily search of inane shit through the interwebs.
Briefly, I left my seat to start dinner (read: make a gin and diet tonic). Upon my return, there were 16 windows of Internet Explorer open. Most seemed to be stuck on a google page searching "n." Which really had me stumped, until I remembered that I told Sam to type "n" in the address bar and nickjr.com would appear in the history pop up tab. He just had entered the "n" in the wrong place, which must have been frustrating for him, but irrelevent for me. I closed those windows right up. S also must have clicked on a couple of side bar ads, as netflix had a pop up as did a couple of others. But, my favorite open window, by far, was a questionnaire for an Internet dating service for cougars.
Of course, I instantly start to think of how E and S would describe themselves in a dating ad.

SWM, sensitive, creative and intellectually curious seeks love. Come cry at the movies with me, shadow box alongside me, and let us slay imaginary demons together. I'm musical, love to surf the web, and enjoy all kinds of indoor, sedentary pastimes. I'll read to you, play board games with you, and love to learn all kinds of card games.

SWM, seeks very very thin woman. Let me make you laugh with my slapstick comedy. We can practice rock climbing on your furniture, and build Lego bridges to one another's hearts. I love to socialize, hang out, but not going to restaurants. Let's go out and tackle the world. Blindside it, in fact. I crave speed, danger, and making you worry. I am not for the faint of heart.

Woah. Dude.

Since the week after Thanksgiving, our household has been plagued by an unusual convergence of food issues. Well, actually, we've apparently been suffering with it for a while, but have only recently identified our issues. S has been tentatively labeled as "Failure to thrive." Which, as I can sort it out, is a medical diagnosis for "doesn't eat any food." Since Thanksgiving, we have been in medical purgatory waiting to identify a cause for this (clearly not inherited) disorder. In response to this ambiguous disorder, I have been eating my anxiety, as any normal mother would do. Right? RIGHT!?!? So, we have the interesting dichotomy of small baby, fat mother. Jack Sprat and his Mom.

I was chatting with my neighbor and her husband about this situation. Partly, because I haven't seen them since forever, and also because I feel compelled to explain my recent bloat. He happens to be a physician, and they are of rather conservative lifestyle, so I appreciated his candid input.
There's only one truly reliable appetite stimulant that I know of, says he. It has significant side effects, though.
Sure, I say. Lay it on me. Maybe the side effects are worth it.
Medical Marijuana, says he.
As in the cartoons, the skies part, the rays of sunshine beam down upon me, and the angels burst out in choir.
Hallelujah! HALLlelujah! Hallellujahahallelujajallejah!
Why haven't I thought of this? My kid with a killer case of the munchies. All is solved.
I'm working on it, now. Do I give my kid a little joint? Can't you just see S with a joint dangling out of his mouth? Exhaling with a cough cough cough. Passing the roach?
Or, do I become the most popular mom at school and make special brownies? Everyone comes home from Julie's house feeling happy!
As an added bonus, I could quit antidepressants and mooch off S's script. The whole family would be healed. It's a medical marijuana miracle! When everybody gets home from work and school, we could pass the dutchie. Homework? Meh. Dinner? Hells yeah. What should we make for dinner? Rice Krispie treats and chicken wings. Hooray! Ramen with Stove Top Stuffing? YAY! Mom, you're the BEST.
Can't you just see my half-lidded boys showing up at school with, "Sorry ma'am. I didn't do my homework. We were stoned."
The side effects? Sure, my kid is six feet tall as an adult, but man is he LAZY. The house would have stacks of laundry (which it does now, of course) BUT I wouldn't care. We could give S his "medicine" before a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese & he'd be set. He could watch the animatronic animals all afternoon and then chow on some pizza. That's my idea of remedy. We could all watch Spongebob together now. Wait...we could home school! Everyone would take their "medicine" and then we'd watch Sunrise Earth on the Discovery Channel. Educational AND stimulating to the 'enhanced mindset.' We could make hemp jewelry and practice rolling joints for crafts. We could throw a bong on a potter's wheel. We could do chemistry and watch spiders crawling along the wall and listen to Pink Floyd for music appreciation.
Suddenly, I see my future more clearly than ever before. And it all hinges on a script for medical marijuana.
Please, please please. Help our family. Send a dime bag by.

On the differences between the sexes

The whole man/woman thing has been rehashed over and over. It's not just that men are able to pack for a weekend in a lunch bag, metabolize whole calorie Coke well into their 30s, and ignore a sink full of dishes for days; men are simply DIFFERENT.
I don't know if I'm more tuned into these differences lately, or if the differences are just rising to the surface, but I find myself asking "who are these creatures? Why do I live with them?"
Men are creatures of habit, that's for sure. Those ratty weekend jeans you've been seeing for the last decade? They're not going anywhere. Unless you "help" them find their way to "charity."
Dinner? Bowl of cereal & beef stew. A natural combination.
Home improvements? If it ain't broke, don't upgrade, repair, repaint, enhance, re-do, remodel, or in any way change it.
Foreplay? Boner in the back. Has that EVER worked?
Babysitting = TV.
Getting dressed up? While I'm scheduling an extra 20 minutes for hair and make up, he's adding 5 for shaving and 15 to watch the last half of the game.

And young men are just as foreign. They wrestle, play with themselves, shadow box, and mouth off in ways girls just wouldn't. They're weird. I was completely right when I thought that boys have cooties. They totally do.

Let me make it clear that I'm not complaining. Exactly. I'm certainly not leading the parade of the normal and sane.

I sometimes think it's like a language thing. I'm American English. He's completely impossible to understand New Zealand accent. He's PC and I'm Mac. From his perspective, I'm a neurotic, always cleaning something, wanting to liquidate kids' college savings for a kitchen, pestering, "Do I look fatter today than yesterday?" lunatic. I get that. I am suggesting that it's simply a matter of where the mind goes. Mine veers left, his hangs a u-turn. We're often going the wrong way on a One Way Street. We wave at each other as we proceed in different directions, equally lost.

To express this difference in a nutshell, the following anecdote:
We drive by the, ahem, Gentleman's Club. Sign says: QUARTER MANIA.

Me: wondering if it's possible to get booze for a quarter, and if so, might it be worth it to venture inside? If not that, wondering how a man would put a quarter (instead of paper money) into a performer's G String. I wonder what QUARTER MANIA is.
Him: OHHH. I thought it said QUARTER MAMA...like a midget performer.
Me: And you didn't think THAT was worth commenting on?
Him: Meh.

Midget strippers. He's thinking midget strippers? Who thinks midget strippers...and doesn't check it out?

Body Count Update

Another day, another squirrel. I'm beginning to come to terms with the fact that our cat is schizophrenic. In the house, he's an affectionate, purring lovey. Outside, he's a murderous, bloodthirsty fiend. The squirrels call him Cat the Ripper. They run in fear, but apparently, they don't run fast enough.

From an Alternate Universe

My goodness. What a busy day. I woke up so cheerfully when the alarm clock chimed this morning at 5:00. It was as though I had slept among clouds. I was able to run 3 miles this morning without so much as an ugly thought crossing my mind. My legs carried me, and the uplifting music on the ipod reminded me that indeed, aspiration is inspiration.

By the time I came home, the boys were stirring in their beds. Their angelic lashes sweeping and fluttering on their delicious cheeks. Rise and shine, little ones! How I love waking them and helping them dress and brush their teeth. And this morning, we thought it would be silly to sing songs like Julie Andrews and Dick van Dyke as we dressed. The older one has a charming Cockney voice. Everything went amazingly smoothly this morning. Except, shucks! I stubbed my toes. On days like this, I reconsider our choice to have only two children. It's a daily miracle to watch them grow and change.

After the kids and hubby had left, I tidied up; although they had left hardly any evidence they had whirled through here at all. I started a delicious dinner. I am very excited about it--everyone is sure to love a roasted red pepper and tomato chicken cacciatore. The boys are SUCH adventurous eaters.

After school, everything was organized so well, that all of our extra curricular activities went swimmingly and we had time to spare. A mother at our playgroup was so frazzled--so much to do, so busy, so frenetic. I told her to find her inner Zen and do more with less. Serenity is a daily gift. Although not everyone, sadly, can live their lives with the focus and the inner quiet I am blessed with. In fact, at the little playground after school, I heard some child, clearly unloved, unsupervised and not told every day what a precious little soul he is, playing with my son. That child, making gun noises, and playing so roughly, actually said, "let me go, asshole. I'm here to kill some wookees."

Honestly. Some people are just letting our entire society's fabric rot down to its core. Where are we, if we lack civility, peace, and love for our children.

The Rhymes With Bucket List

Every night (evening. I generally try to be in bed between 8:45 and 9:15.)when my brain is finally quiet (not functioning, mind you, I literally mean quiet. Without children shouting, dogs barking, music blaring) I begin to think about the next morning's Cinnamon. Sometimes, I just go through the incidents, accidents, and funnies from the day. Sometimes, I think about something that makes me wildly angry or annoyed. Occasionally, I get nothing.
Last night was one of those nights. Yesterday was completely uneventful: I think I'm getting sick, so I took a nap, rested, did laundry, rested and did nothing. The things that really outraged me are political in nature, and I try to avoid politics here. And, so...
I am brought back to my untimely ageing.
This time, though, I was thinking about my TV crush and his wife, who just had a baby together. To quote Carrie Fischer's character from When Harry Met Sally, "He's never going to leave her." Sad, but true. I mean TV Crush MIGHT leave his ex-Playmate wife, but that certainly doesn't mean he's going to take up with me. Sadly. Then there is the whole coming to terms with the fact that my TV crush is married to an ex-Playmate. In my fantasy life, in addition to being handsome, he is thoughtful, and deep, and funny, and charming, and not at all self-absorbed. How to reconcile THIS with the fact that he's married to a woman whose film credits include "Buxom Blonde #1" and "Bombshell #1" and "BJ Cummings"? I am pained. Really, couldn't he be married to a slightly overweight woman with a really interesting face and a compelling daily blog?
Though, while I complain about this woman's ALLEGED shallowness, (We don't want to get sued or anything.) I am going to reveal a deep, dark secret of my marriage.
We each have a List. A list of people (must be reasonably considered celebrities. Putting your hubby's best friend or your next door neighbor would be cheating. Not to mention highly suspect.) with whom, given the opportunity, we would each be allowed to fool around with. It's a free pass. Because, hey, who wants a pesky thing like your marriage to get in the way of a once in a lifetime opportunity to fool around with a B list TV star?
So. Now that I have shared the concept of the list, and I highly encourage you to make one, I will share the contents of my list with you. No snickering. Seriously. Stop it. My list is in no order, because of course, opportunity arises when you least expect it.
1. John Cusack (nostalgic romp)
2. Johnny Depp (intellectual, French romp)
3. David Boreanaz (every week in my living room via TV romp)
4. George Clooney (goes without saying romp)
5. Matt Damon (how do you like them apples romp)
6. John Mayer (just to confirm the rumors romp)
7. Daniel Craig(British Bond romp)
8. Hugh Grant (yah, I said it. I like floppy hair. And accents. Oh, just shut up.)
9. Jon Stewart (smart, well-informed newsy Jewish romp)
10. Depends on what Oscar Party I get invited to....

So, the list lacks a certain degree of diversity. But this reflects no personal bias, but rather a lack of completely hot roles for minorities in Hollywood movies. Also, as some one once pointed out to me, my list has no women on it. Thanks for that observation.
So. If you, gentle readers, know any of these handsome gentlemen, and one night y'all are hanging out, and he happens to remark that he'd really like to hook up with a middle aged housewife, don't fail to give him my name just because I'm married. Thanks.

NEW! NEW! NEW! Parenting Made Easy!

I have another parenting tool that is impossible to live without! YOU will wonder how you ever survived without The Difficult Discussion System: Discs 1 through 100.
My discs cover difficult conversations for every age, every situation. They are all labeled with keywords to help you identify the conversation you need to have quickly and easily. Each conversation is customizable, easy to use, and reusable for siblings. Also available for download on itunes.
A sample disc would be #27. "Going to the Grocery Store."
Soothing female CD voice: "OK, kids. Mom needs to go grocery shopping. Everyone needs to get in the car."
(Moaning and groaning in background.)
SFCDV: "If everyone behaves, keeps their hands/feet/bodies to themselves, uses kind and respectful tones of voices, listens to me, follows directions, does not nag/complain/whine/kvetch/throw any fits of any kind, doesn't touch anything, uses his/her inside voice, and cooperates fully, there might be a special treat at the end. (Bakugan, Pokemon cards, Barbie outfit, piece of made in China crap that is currently all the rage among children your demographic.)
(Slight hmms of interest in the background)
SFCDV: "If children cooperate at this juncture, select track 6. If children continue to complain, select track 8"
Track 6: "I am so glad you guys decided to have a positive attitude and join me on this chore. I know it is not fun to run errands, but this family requires work as well as fun, and I am glad you are helping with the work so that we all may have some fun." (Cheerful kiddie music plays now.)
Track 8: "It is so disappointing to me that you kids have decided to have a negative attitude. I don't think that we will be able to pick out a treat at the end of our shopping errand. I know that it is not fun to run errands, but this family requires work as well as fun, and you have made a choice that takes away some of our fun together. Now, we are still going to the grocery store, but if you continue to complain, I will have to take away other privileges, and we will all be able to have even less fun. So, you have a chance now to turn your attitudes around before you have further punishments." (Soothing new age music plays)

I think this sample demonstrates the universality of certain conversations every parent has OVER AND OVER. It simply makes no sense for every parent to repeat him/herself every time the grocery store errand, for example, arises. The calm voice, scripted by child development professionals, prevents frustrated parents from cursing, swearing, idly threatening, or losing their tempers. Thus, children are raised with consistent discipline, and do not have to be yelled at by enraged parents. Frustration on all sides is eased. Additionally, the new age music for the negative reaction tracks is scientifically proven to soothe, relax, and enhance compliance in children. Parents no longer have to sigh exasperatedly, freak out, claw at their hair, or in any way endure the stress of parenting! Simply get into the car, fasten your child's seat belts, and play the track appropriate to your situation. The Difficult Discussions CD System will handle everything from there! It's that easy.
Other conversations addressed with the DDCD System include:
"It's Time for Bed"
"Have you done your homework?"
"Pet responsibilities, parts I and II"
"Respecting our siblings--physical behaviours"
"Respecting our siblings--verbal behaviours"
"Candy is not a snack"
"Chores help the house go 'round"
"He did it--personal accountability"
And the bonus tracks:
"Dinner is its own reward: negotiating how many bites before dessert"
"Because I said so: No means no."
So, save yourself from rehashing the same conversations over and OVER. Buy the Difficult Discussions CD System now. Have better behaving children tomorrow! Only 10 payments of $59.95! A bargain at twice the price! Do peace of mind and stress free parenting really have a cost?

*Manufacturer assumes no responsibility for children who firecracker live animals or play with fire. DDCD Systems makes no guarantee for your child's behaviour. Use only as directed. Parental supervision required.

Full Flight

You know how airlines always overbook seats and then give passengers incentive to not board the flight they'd planned on, and instead take $200 and a voucher for Chili's, TOO! to wait for another 6 hours in the airport?
Well, I'm offering incentives. I accidentally triple booked myself and M tomorrow. I'm offering $1 and your choice of either going to S's last music class or spending time with E who is staying home from school tomorrow to watch Disney Earth or admistering a make-up final to one of M's studentS. I goofed. Totally goofed. Why do I even bother to keep a calendar? Gripe, moan groan.
Crap.

Breaking Through

I did it. I finally did it! I went out to coffee this morning with a mom from E's Kindergarten class. She met some friends who were also there to whom she introduced me. And I KNEW ONE! Amazing. I have completed the social circle of Mobile. I am IN.
Actually, that makes two remarkable social events this week. Monday, M took off from work, and we went downtown for breakfast. As we were leaving, we actually ran in to someone we knew. Can you imagine that?
We are the least social people ever, and in fact many of the friends we have now are women I have met through my kids. M knows people from work, but not many from outside. So to meet two people in town at non-child events is remarkable.
Now, two things. I have not cracked the Old Mobile Circle. That is an upper eschelon of super-beings that we mere mortals from out of state can only stare at in awe. Don't get me wrong. I don't begrudge the old Mobile families their elite status, I just don't ever interact with them. They don't want me, and I think we're okay with that arrangement.
Nor, and I want to make this perfectly clear, am I abandoning my vigilant post against the plastic moms. I am not becoming a plastic mom who laments my micro-problems at the cafe. I have found mostly real humans, and am excited about it. Sure, they may drift into the Springhill circle, but they are not permanent residents. I am still anti-plastic mom. Have no fear.
In honor of that position, I will post today the anti-plastic mom anthem:

White SUV (sung to Yellow Submarine)

In this town called old Mobile
There lived some moms from rich Springhill
And they liked their wealth to show
with visors and tennis clothes

So we drive into carpool
Dripping with all of our jewels
And we learn to be aloof
Just riding off to school

We all drive a white suv
White suv, white suv
We all drive a white suv white
suv white suv

If it is a big Yukon or
perhaps a Dena-lee
We have more than we need
In our white suvs

We all drive a white suv
A white suv, a white suv
We all drive a white suv, a
white suv white suv

These are folks who live next door
They think that we eat off the floor
And the children go to Wright
And play the St Pauls way

We all drive a white suv
A white suv, a white suv
We all drive a white suv, a white suv, a white suv

(Full speed ahead Mrs. Parker full speed ahead
Use up the fuel! More fuel more fuel! Consume consume!)

As they live their life of ease
They’re happy with conformity
Hair of blond and faces freezed
By the botox if you please

We all drive a white suv
A white suv, a white suv
We all drive a white suv, a white suv, a white suv

Another Classic Tune

(sung to Hey Jude)
Hey Boobs, an Ode to Plastic Surgery

Hey boobs I won’t let you sag,
I’ll take a small boob and make it bigger
Remember it goes over my heart
Then I can start to make it bigger

Hey boobs, don’t be afraid
You weren’t made quite big enough
The minute I get it under my skin
Then I begin to make it bigger.

Any time I feel the pain, hey boobs, refrain
I Carry the weight on both my shoulders
Don’t you know it’s a fool who keeps an A cup
Gotta make the world a little fuller

So let it out, and let it out, hey boobs, begin
You’re waiting for some one to perform on you
And don’t you know, it’s you just bigger…
Hey boobs, you’ll do
The movement you need is from your shoulders

Hey boobs, don’t make it sag,
Take your A--cup and make it bigger
Remember to put it over your heart
Then you can start to make it bigger

Ta ta ta ta ta ta ta, ta ta ta, hey boobs. Ta ta ta ta ta ta ta hey boobs…..