Boo.

Feeling crummy...both kids are home sick today. Are you coming over here to clean my house, Lone Reader? Didn't you promise that? Plus you'd leave a bag of hundys on the front step? Oh wait, that was in my Nyquil-addled dream last night.

If Typhoid Mary knocks on your door tonight, give her, Medusa and the mummy all your candy and valuables and no one will get hurt.

Love, TM

Hippies vs. Squares

Nine ways in which my parents were hippies:

1. we moved a lot & lived for awhile on the edge of a reservation in Oklahoma and went to a res. school

2. Whole Earth Catalogue and Foxfire books were well-worn in our house

3. wrapped the house in used black plastic in the winter to retain solar heat (and all of us slept in one woodstove-heated room in the winter)

4. Both parents used the term "the fuzz" i.e., "Watch it, Jerry! It's the fuzz!"

5. Our dining room table was actually a picnic table, and for years we used glasses and cafeteria trays stolen from Cornell

6. father was an environmental science professor (still is) and we had a ridiculous amount of Stop Acid Rain stickers

7. Forbidden to eat grapes (solidarity with the workers), Wonder bread (supported Nixon), and Nestlé products (corporate boycott)

8. My dad had wild Grizzly Adams hair and full beard.

9. No rules, man…see you when I see you.

Nine ways in which my parents were not hippies:

1. Neither parent had braids.

2. Convenience foods were common at home, fostering a love of that trans-fat-crisp that sadly continues to this day.

3. My mom had a bouffant ‘do for years.

4. Too much tv = a deep appreciation for the disappearing art of the television theme song. sigh. (You take the good, you take the bad…)

5. No fringed vests, tie-dye or love beads. (They both had little John Lennon glasses, though.)

6. No communes!

7. Both parents called Jersey “home” for years and years.

8. All three kids have normal names, not a “Kharma” or “Marley” among us.

9. They both worked for the man – whatever university. It wasn’t until junior high that I realized most people don’t take summers off.

Verdict: Ivy League intellectual wanna-be hippies...the worst kind.

Super sick, man

I am so dang sick, so no real content today other than, yowza does that picture below crack me up. My brother looks like he either has to go to the bathroom or is practicing his supermodel pose. He's definitely the smart one in the group, though - no one can recognize him.

Happy Tuesday, Lone Reader!

Memorable costumes of my youth

This picture is not of people in costume...those are the outfits that the witness protection program gave my family when we got shipped out to Oklahoma.

Indian Princess: (It was the 70’s – no one said Native American yet) That year my mom was sick and my dad had to get me ready for the school Halloween party. It was really, really hard on him. (I believe it was the first time I heard the word "f*ck.") Maybe by now he’s learned how to braid hair.

McDonald's Fries: a great idea, just shouldn’t have been made out of posterboard – as soon as some one spilled something on me, I left trails of watery ink everywhere I walked.

Bag of jellybeans: really cute until some jerk realized that if he popped all the balloons I’d be left wearing a clear bag and a leotard. Super funny, let me tell ya.

Tube of toothpaste: this one turned out great. And it was the very first time I put a lampshade on my head. (and it needed to be a big lampshade)

Molecule at the German Club’s annual Fasching Party: In high school Connie and I dressed as molecules. It was pretty awesome– we had hula hoops on wires around us and we ran into each other all night. Okay, we weren’t in German Club, nor did we take German, and we lost the costume contest to a young man who wore the same damn frog suit year after year, but other than that it was awesome.

My friend Robin and I dressed in black garbage bags for a punk rock party. We were really the only people dressed like that, so it was a little embarrassing.

Once Jen called to remind me it was PJ day at ECFE (Parent/child classes). When I showed up in a long flannel nightgown, I realized it was only for this kids. Again, a little embarrassing.

Wednesday Addams: this was actually pretty recent – the Crystal Ball in 2005. My then-spouse was dressed as Uncle Fester. That part was super scary – he actually really resembled the dude. I always have a black tights, dress and shoes, so it was really only the wig and my companion that clued people in to who I was.

Hally Happoween, Lone Reader! (a little early)

I take offense!

A Strib headline from this morning:
Warm hands, not cold ones, lead to warm hearts: Study links physical warmth to nicer behavior

Michelle Bachmann's permanent pucker

U.S. Representative Michelle Bachmann said in a debate yesterday that illegal immigrants were "bringing in diseases, bringing in drugs, bringing in violence." Wow...that might be as close a definition of xenophobia as ever written. She also said that the recent fall in gas prices stemmed in part from a congressional relaxation of restrictions on offshore drilling this summer. Hmmm... I naively thought it was reduced consumption and a lower price for crude. Read more here.

From an AP story about the debate - Bachmann said, “If the presidency would somehow go to Barack Obama, I would welcome him to the 6th District as well,” she said after the debate. “As a matter of fact, I would put my hand on his shoulder and give him a kiss if he wanted to.” Watch out, Barack!

Let's hope that the tingly feeling she gets whenever G Dub is in the room resonates more with voters than the unfortunate name of her opponent. (Elwin Tinklenberg - say no more.)

Once again, Target is leading the pack in corporate donation to the Republic National Committee. Sigh. Where am I to shop, people?

Apropos nothing:

Joey Chesnutt dominates! In September he kicked Kobayashi's fanny at the Krystal Burger Square Off, eating 93 burgers in eight minutes. On October 12 he downed 45 slices in 10 minutes Sunday to win the first Famous Famiglia World Pizza Eating Championship in New York's Times Square. Jo-ey! Jo-ey!

I got all excited by the UCLA study suggesting that internet use makes one smarter. Then I read this in the Freakonomics blog on NYT. Dang...I guess I'm stuck here.

Have a great weekend, Lone Reader!

Bacon Bits n' more

¡Hola, Lone Reader! Yes, it's been quite awhile...I'm trying very hard to come back from this super freaky illness. Here's the latest:

1. My Elvis cupcakes made Bacon Unwrapped - yay! Oh, and you can't really refrigerate and then re-whip a buttercream. Or at least I can't.

2. I overheard my son say to a visiting friend, "You know how to get my mom to take a pill? Wrap it in bacon." True, but still insulting.

3. I just discovered the delightful Bacon Today. I loved the story about the tragic loss suffered by a store owner in California. There was a huge fire and he lost all the bacon...it seems the sausages survived, but that's really small comfort now, isn't it? On the plus side, his neighbors lost 3 pounds in water weight following the hours of salivating.

4. Did you see this? It appears that 'Joe the Plumber' isn't named Joe, isn't a licensed plumber and owes back taxes. What's the world coming to when you can't rely on rhetorical characters?

5. So, whad'ya think of the debate? It seems like McCain came out with fire in the belly and then lost it in a strange stroke-like series of rambling, angry comments. Obamanos!

6. Nothing to do tomorrow night...sigh. It's my first weekend without the kids in a month and I have nothing on for tomorrow. I need some groovy cats in my life who are willing to put up with my bizarre schedule, lack of time to do anything I don't want to do and general malaise. I think that level of insensitivity leaves me with hiring friends, aka prostitutes. That doesn't seem right. ("Hey officer, I wasn't going to do anything illegal! I just want to go to the Turf Club!")

7. At last, a new TRUE STORY: When my daughter was in Kindergarten, she joined the school's first-ever running club, with the intent on running in a local non-profit race at the end of the school year. She really liked it and did well. When race day arrived, it was pouring rain. We had committed to running, so we went down to River Road for the kids' one-mile. I lined up with my 5-year-old daughter and my 2-year-old son who wanted to run alongside for a bit. After about 1/2 mile, my daughter started complaining and said she was going to quit. I said, "Look, it's just as long to finish the race as it is to go back now." The whining escalated and she sat down on the course. In the rain. This didn't go over well with me. "Get up." "No." "Get up NOW." I'm starting to be aware that the principal and staff are running up and asking if everything is okay...yes, yes...my daughter has decided to sit in the middle of the road. Meanwhile my son is running in circles around the two of us and he begins wailing. "We're going," I say. I start to make like I'm going to continue running, then I think about how very cruel this seems. I don't actually want to leave my five-year-old on the middle of the road. So, if you were on River Road on a May morning in 2003, you might've seen a soaking wet woman, running and panting while carrying a Kindergartner over her shoulder, being dragged by a yelling toddler over the finish line. Next time I'm running it'll be when someone is chasing me. (and s/he better have a weapon or I ain't doing it.)

Ciao, bella!