Thursday, March 05, 2015

Snow!

It's snowing here, enough for the local schools to close down. There are 4 teens in my dining room, playing Texas Hold 'Em. There are 5 more kids in the kitchen, making hamantaschen, drinking hot cocoa, and eating popcorn. Last I checked, I only birthed 6 kids, and 2 of those don't even live here anymore.  So...where does that leave me?  5 extra kids?  I can't figure it out.

Me? I'm experiencing the miserable part of my cold, sitting on the couch, hugging my box of Kleenex, and sucking on Ricola throat drops.  Very attractive.  Larry is sitting opposite me, trying to pretend that I still look like the girl he married while he messes around with his new Internet radio.  He has tried to explain this device to me, but every time he starts throwing around words like "Bluetooth capability" and "wireless speakers," I feel like that dog in the Far Side cartoon - you know, the one whose owner is talking and all the dog hears is "Blah, blah, blah, Ginger. Blah, blah. Blah, blah, blah, blah, Ginger!"

Woof.

That's all, folks.  It's a winter wonderland out there, and I hope it keeps up all day.  I also hope no one expects dinner, because I didn't plan any. Nada. Zilch.

Let them eat hamantaschen.



[Hamantaschen image: Temple Emanu-El]




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Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Overcome By The Vapors

Down for the count here - just a minor cold/sore throat thing, but the type that makes one want a fainting couch and a maidservant to put cool compresses on one's forehead.  Also? The type of ailment that makes one speak of oneself in the third person, apparently.

Must. Stop. Now.


Medicinal, if you're not too sick to make it
So! Still no stomach ailment, thanks to our family talisman, so I'm grateful for that.  I skipped my core exercises this morning (see above, re fainting couch), but I'm dressed and showered, so I don't have to rock that homeless woman vibe while driving David to the bus for school. I can't picture eating anything green, though.  I made myself some homemade chicken soup yesterday (don't be too impressed, it was from the carcass of a Costco rotisserie chicken), but now I'm too tired to strain the broth and make the matzo balls.  If I had been a pioneer, I would have starved to death the first hard winter.

I don't like chicken soup without matzo balls.  It's a Jewish thing.


Here's the part where I post a fun video for everyone to watch, but I can't think of anything.  Someone send me something funny, all right?

[Updated to tell you that someone came through for me with a Buzzfeed video about Jewish food, which I shared on this blog's Facebook page.  Check it out!]




[Matzo ball image: Jew It Up]

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Monday, March 02, 2015

Be It Hereby Resolved - March

I CANNOT BELIEVE that the slowest part of the year is already over.  As far as I'm concerned, we're about 3 days away from Christmas, the way time flies around here.

Remember February?  You know, when I was a full month younger and more optimistic and rashly resolved to go to bed at 11 (ish), do my 10 minutes of Kathy Smith core exercises each day (except yoga class days), and eat something green (that, uh, HASN'T gone bad) each day, also?

We aim high around here, don't we?


My new BFF
People, I ended up dubbing February the Month of the Costco Kale Salad.  I ate a lot of that stuff, folks. A LOT.  With buttered broccoli thrown in here and there, for variety.  I feel very healthy.  RIDICULOUSLY healthy. So I will try to keep that up for March.  Even though my jaw hurts from chewing.

 I slipped quite a bit on the bedtime thing this month, but I still got more sleep than when I wasn't aiming for 11 at all (meaning, I was no longer pretending that, hey, it's already midnight, so it won't make any difference if I go to bed at 1 or 1:30 or 2), so I'll try to keep that one up, also. And I missed only 3 days of Kathy Smith, which is way better than last year - last year, I told myself I was doing the exercises every day, but I was actually missing at least 15 days each month.

You know, I am noticing here that I have an amazing capacity for self deception.

Should I even add anything for March? Seriously, I can't think of anything else healthy to do.  I mean, anything reasonable...there's no way I am going to vow to start lifting weights or cleaning my house or anything.  I'm so over the housekeeping thing.  In fact, I'm just waiting until enough kids move out so that Larry and I can downsize to an easy-to-maintain 2-bedroom condo.  Think about it - no laundry room piled with stuff that belongs in a garage, no closets filled with paper-towel-tube airplanes, no basement that acts as a handy repository for ALL THE JUNK Larry doesn't want to get rid of...just 2 bedrooms and a den, enough space for me and my yarn (okay, and Larry, too), plus any grandkids that might want to visit.

But that isn't happening in March 2015 - I accept that.

I have been slacking off on my walks, so maybe I'll do an almost-mile walk every day, around the golf course near my house; and if I were to maybe break into a labored trot for small bits of it? Well, that would be an extra feather in my cap, as it were.

Walking - I can do that.  I think.

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Thursday, February 26, 2015

What It Takes To Make Me Wash Floors

Okay, done pouting here.  All grown up.  No problem.

Here, my friends, is the latest puzzle:


Yes, I'm showing you poop. Sorry.

We came home mid-afternoon on Monday, one of the REALLY COLD days, to find the front steps and porch covered with the poop you see above. COVERED.  I posted this photo on my personal Facebook page to see if any locals knew what animals had been trying to invade my home, but no one could figure it out.  People suggested everything from bats (which I ruled out because it was midday and ohmygodjustno), geese (nope, wrong shape), squirrels (nope, wrong shape again).  What struck me was the fact that I actually knew what all this different animal poop looks like.  As if I were some sort of animal life expert who cares about this sort of thing.

But I'm not.  The ability to identify different rodent scat at 20 paces has never been on my bucket list of skills to acquire before I die.

Anyway, I had to use a snow shovel to remove all the poop.  It would have been more efficient to use the hose, only temps were below freezing and were expected to stay there for several days.  So flooding the porch and steps with water would have been, in Larry's words, "incredibly stupid." Luckily, the remains (and there were plenty, because a plastic snow shovel is NOT the most efficient feces-removal method, I can tell you that right now, and that right there is something ELSE I never really needed to know) were soon frozen solid; that means people are no longer tracking fecal matter from an unknown animal into my front hall and living room. Hooray!

Silver lining: The whole scenario was so disgusting that I washed the floors for the first time in a long time. Usually I just sweep and swiffer and pretend that that is good enough.  I would have done a Ma Ingalls and scrubbed the floors with lye, if I had known where to find some. But I didn't, so I just used Windex instead.  Which is probably the wrong thing, but I never claimed to be an expert on housecleaning here, all right?



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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Comparison Test

Well, I've been putting this off - to the extent that I spent my free time this afternoon collating all my posts about marriage under that tab up there at the top, instead of writing a new post.  But now it is time to announce that I have once again not been chosen for the cast of our local Listen To Your Mother.  I did merit my very own rejection letter this year (a REALLY NICE one), instead of the group email.  That's progress, right?

So I spent Saturday resigning myself to my rejectee status, reminding myself that it's not a big deal and that going on stage isn't really a good idea for me, anyway.  I was successful to the point of being able to look at the LTYM cast member announcement (you know, the one without my name in it) on Sunday.  "I'm mature," I told myself.  "I can handle it." And I was doing pretty well, until I realized that I knew, personally, one of the Chosen.  Oh, not very well, but we have a lot of mutual friends/acquaintances in the local homeschooling community and once, years ago, I manned a Girl Scout cookie booth with her husband.  That sort of thing.

I have no idea why my knowing her should have made any difference, but my maturity immediately exited the room, leaving me to scroll through her blog and fume, "I'm funny.  But she's meaningful.  I KNEW they wanted meaningful.  I KNEW IT."


So, yeah, not my finest moment(s).  I'm over it and back to being my somewhat mature self, but tell me - does anyone ever really grow up?  I mean, like, completely?  Because I'm thinking that I still have quite a ways to go.



[Poison Envy image: Cliche Busters]




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