Everyone was kung-fu fighting.

My daughter and husband graduated to their next belt level in taekwondo Friday night. Here are a couple of pictures of them.




I have another nice picture of the two of them with their instructor, but my husband looks like a duffus in it and he forbade me from posting it on the blog. That picture shows them with their new belts, but there you have it. I'm going to start up with the lessons again this evening. It's been four weeks since I hurt my knee and I'm going to wrap it really good and get back on the horse, as they say. I still haven't heard anything about the MRI I had a couple of weeks ago and I'm getting sick of waiting, so I'm exercising again. I've still got to be careful with I move, but I'm walking without a limp so I'm figuring it's healed up enough. Anyway, my husband bought a bunch of cold packs at the sporting goods store over the weekend because he thinks I'm going to reinjure myself, but no. I have no fear of pain.

More Madonna Karaoke

I know, I know. How many Madonna songs can I possibly sing? What can I say? Madonna is a very popular karaoke staple. Is it my fault that approximately 63.2% of the songs on my karaoke microphone are by Madonna? I think not. I think I'm going to start raiding my daughter's CD collection to come up with some fresh songs for you, which I'm sure you will appreciate very, very much. We were listening to Pokemon Christmas Bash this morning while we were brushing our teeth. Maybe I'll do a song from that outstanding album next week. You just never know what you're going to get. I think it's the suspense that keeps this enjoyable, don't you? Anyway, here I am singing Take a Bow by Madonna. Interesting side note, the guy that plays the matador in this video looks exactly like one of my husband's friends from DC. His name is Victor and he's a very nice guy.

Hot cross pets! Hot cross pets for sale!

Well, I have managed to relocate two of the pets. The chinchilla was immediately snatched up by one of the grad students I work with, and I have just learned that another graduate student is wanting the hamster. I think she also wanted the rabbit, but it seems that the rabbit was a no-go for the roommate. Not bad though, not bad at all. I think the rabbit knows something is up, though. I think he can sense that his time is short and he will soon be booted out of Eden, as it were. He looks at me forlornly with an accusing look in his eye. "You evil bitch," I can almost hear him think. "You evil, stinking bitch." Bet you didn't know rabbits could be so vicious, did you? Well, if you've ever seen The Holy Grail, then you'd know just how violent they can be when angered. I hate to break his poor, little bunny heart, but he'll forget us after the first day, I'm sure. We will fade like vapor from his simple, tiny brain.

Wow, Simon Cowell really is an ass.

Last night my daughter was not feeling well and went to bed really early. She was asleep by 6:30, so my husband and I decided to watch television because we usually cannot watch anything that doesn't involve Spongebob Squarepants or Pokemon. As we were flipping through the channels, we decided to give American Idol a shot. We've only ever watched one other episode of American Idol and it was the episode where Rueben Stoddard won the second season. We'd never seen any of the audition segments, so we thought it would be interesting to see what this Idol thing is all about.

Now, I've seen the press about how obnoxious Simon Cowell is and I understand that's his schtick and all, but that man is really an evil bastard. It's one thing to offer honest criticism to people who shouldn't get their hopes too high when envisioning a life in the spotlight, but it's something altogether different to try and crush people in the process. That man really seems to want to destroy people's sense of self-worth and I don't know why so many people tune in to watch him do it. Obviously, he doesn't care, but if I were one of the other judges, I'd basically tell Simon, "You're an ass." I'd tell him that every episode. I think it would be funny to just start off every sentence with, "You're an ass." And, of course, I'd tell all the contestants, "Now, you know Simon is an ass, but I don't think you're suited for this competition." Anyway, it does seem that majority rules with the judges' decisions, so I'm glad to know Simon's assiness doesn't necessarily mean a worthy contestant is booted out before he or she is given a chance.

Podcast #4

Here's episode four of Conversations with Korean Celt. I didn't post episode three last week because I don't want to make it too easy for you.

I don't get it.

I rented The Aristocrats over the weekend, mainly because I wanted to know what the joke was all about. I have to say it wasn't all that funny. I'm going to spoil it for you by telling you the joke, so if you don't want to know what it is, stop reading. Anyway, the basic joke is a guy walks into a talent agency and tells the agent that he's got an act that's going to blow off the agent's socks. So the agent asks, "What's your act." The guy then goes on to explain (and this is the part of the joke that depends entirely on how the joke-teller wants to embellish it) that the act consists of the man and his family going onstage, disrobing, shitting and pissing themselves all over the stage, sliding around in the mess, screwing each other, and whatever other depraved activity one can think of. The agent asks, "What do you call it?" and the man answers, "We call it The Aristocrats."

Everyone in the movie acknowledges that the joke itself is not funny, but that the fun is all in how the comedian tells the joke. I'm a great fan of questionable humor and I have to say the only time I laughed during the course of this movie was when Drew Carey said he always likes to deliver the punchline with a fancy flourish of the arms. For some reason, that was funny to me, but all the various gross-out things weren't funny to me. Probably because even the gross stuff didn't seem that particularly extreme to me, which is kind of a sad commentary when you think about it. Nothing is shocking anymore. Not even the idea of a family going onstage, pissing and shitting themselves while blowing mountain goats. What a shame. What a damn, sad shame.

Furry-Palmed Karaoke

When I was a kid in the '80s I liked Cyndi Lauper well enough, but she wasn't my favorite or anything. Why am I singing Cyndi Lauper today, then? Because I'm really starting to run out of songs from my karaoke microphone to sing for you and will soon be forced to buy a new song chip. However, I always did like this song because it's about masturbation. I think that's all I really need to say about that. Here is She Bop.

See what happens when you bad-mouth people?

I'm not saying my complaining yesterday had anything to do with it, but guess what was in my inbox this morning? Pictures of the new puppy and her parents, so here they are.






The first two pictures are Mookie, the third is mommy dog and the fourth is daddy dog. Isn't Mookie cute? Now my daughter will have a picture to tie her over until we get the dog. I bought a manicure set for a dollar this morning because I had to get some cash back to give to my daughter, who is going on a field trip today. Want to know what kind of manicure set you get for a buck? A crappy one, that's what. I'm just going to keep it in my desk at work for those hangnail emergencies that are always difficult to predict.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a name.

And it's Mookie. That's the name my daughter has decided she will bestow upon her new puppy. It's an Ewok name I found off the Internet. I read a list of Ewok names off for her and Mookie was the winner. It's a cute name. Here's something that's kind of annoying me, though. When I first e-mailed the breeder expressing our interest in purchasing one of her dogs, she responded right away. She sent me directions, answered all my questions, etc. So, when we went out to her place on Saturday, she told us she could e-mail pictures to us as the weeks went by. We all thought that was pretty cool and readily accepted her offer to do so. I sent her a message on Monday asking for a picture because my daughter is about to bust out of her skin from excitement about this entire puppy business, and I still haven't gotten a response from the breeder. What do you think that's all about? My husband said her initial quick response was due to the fact that we represented money and now that we've given her a check, there's not as much urgency on her part. He's most likely right because I know all people care about in the end is money, but she seemed so sincere when she first said she'd send pictures. I'm kind of disappointed. But what are you going to do.

You might have noticed that I put up the second episode of my podcast yesterday. I'd like to announce that Conversastions with Korean Celt is now accessible through iTunes. Just go to http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=120105697&s=143441 and you'll be able to subscribe and everything. Which I know you want to do so badly you can taste it. Today podcasting, tomorrow the world. Mwaa, ha, ha.

Oh, my watch battery stopped today. That sucks.

Next podcast episode

Two months. How can I wait two months?

That's what my daughter has been asking about every ten seconds since Saturday. Why, do you ask? We put down a deposit on a puppy this past Saturday, but can't bring the puppy home for another ten weeks. That's why she keeps bemoaning the two months she must wait before she can start loving and playing with her new pet. We didn't go with the brussels griffon, in the end, but chose a shiffon which is a mix between an griffon and shih tzu. Here are a couple of pictures to give you an idea of what they look like.




We bought a dog collar yesterday in anticipation and my daughter has it safely tucked away in a special treasure box. Kids kill me.

Now I'm going to tell you about my momentary contact lens tragedy of yesterday. Somehow, while I was putting in my contacts yesterday morning before chuch, I failed to notice that my right lens didn't actually make it onto my eye. I put my left lens in when I noticed my right eye wasn't clear, so I tried adjusting my contact to make sure it was properly positioned on my eye. Imagine my surprise when I felt just my eyeball and no contact. That in and of itself wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't been simultaneously running the faucet at the time I tried to adjust my contact. I immediately realized I'd just probably washed my right contact lens down the drain. I got down on my hands and knee (because I still can't kneel on my injured knee) and couldn't find a thing. So, I was bummed. I was bummed because I was going to have to make an appointment to see the eye doctor and get new lenses and go through that entire hassle. However, thankfully, this morning when I woke up I remembered that I had an extra right contact lens in my medicine cabinet because it was left over from when I was testing fit on my contacts. So, I am now able to see sans glasses again. I am happy, and all is right with the world again.

Karaoke, Balboa style.

When I was a kid, Slyvester Stallone and the Rocky franchise were pretty hot. I'm not really a Rocky fan, but I sure did like watching Dolph Lundgren in his boxing shorts. I used to like saying, "I will break you," in a Russian accent. I still like to say, "I will break you," in a Russian accent because it's just fun. However, I actually think today's karaoke song comes from the Rocky movie with Mr. T. as the villian. It's hard to remember at this point. Here's a little trivia for you, though. Did you know that the song you're about to hear won an Oscar for best song? Incredible, isn't it. Anyway, here I am fighting and singing strong to Eye of the Tiger. Enjoy.

I've been beat.

After much begging and pleading, I have finally relented and agreed to let my daughter get a dog. However, before canine purchase takes place, I've insisted that she get rid of the rest of the pets in the house because I just can't deal with that many animals. So we'll be looking for good homes for the rabbit, chinchilla and hamster. We've decided to keep Fred and George, the parakeets, because they're pretty low maintenance and they're fun to watch. Once we've gotten the other animals into new homes, we'll start the search for the perfect pooch.

I want a small, non-shedding dog. I think I'd like us to get a brussels griffon because they fit the bill on both and are so darned cute it makes you want to puke. Just take a look at this face. Ooochie, cootchie, boobsie, ittle, witty cutie.



How could you not love a face like that. Some very preliminary Googles searches have located one breeder near our town, so I'll be checking it out to see what it's all about. I just hope I don't live to regret my acquiescence. Please, Lord, don't let me regret it.

First podcast.

I know you've been waiting for it, and the wait is now over. Here is my first podcast of Conversations with Kathleen.

One down, one to go.

Knocked out the EEG, only have the MRI left to go. This week, anyway. The EEG wasn't bad. I actually dozed off a little and the tech didn't detect anything unusual while she was monitoring the fierce electric currents coming off my brain. All I hope about the MRI is that they put me in a tube where my head gets to stick out because I don't know how I'll do shoved all the way into a potato chip can. Guess we'll find out.

I think my daugther has a crush on her taekwondo instructor. He's this 18- or 19-year-old kid, and he's really good with the kids in class. A couple of days ago she asked me if I thought he had a girlfriend and I said I have no idea but it's quite possible.

"But do you think he does?" she asked again.

"I really don't know, honey." I answered. "It's quite possible. He and Miss Mitchell (one of the other instructors) might be boyfriend and girlfriend for all I know."

"But do you think he's on the path to young love?" she inquired. (She really did ask that because that is how she talks. No lie.)

"Honey, I really don't know. Why are you asking, anyway?"

She responded by just sort of shrugging her shoulders. "Just curious."

And that was that. Last night, as we were driving to taekwondo, she asked if I thought her instructor's last name was weird. I said, "No, his last name is Irish."
Then she said her first name and his last name together and said, "Hmmmm, Irishy."

Although it's been some time, as I recall little girls only match up their first name with a boy's last name when they've got a crush. Maybe I'm wrong in this case. Who knows. But I will definitely be monitoring the situation. After all, ten years is a pretty big age difference.

Nothing like advance warning.

I have my EEG today to try and determine why I have been fainting or nearly fainting after twisting my ankle. I don't really know what to expect, so I just looked on the Internet to get an idea of what they are going to be doing to me. As I'm reading, I notice a list of things you're supposed to do in preparation for the exam. My doctor's office didn't tell me to do any of these things, so now I'm worried the test won't come out right. The preparation list states:

You will need to wash your hair the night before the test. Do not use any oils, sprays, or conditioner on your hair before this test.

--I washed my hair this morning. I didn't condition it because I was running late, but I did put on hair spray.

Your health care provider may want you to discontinue some medications before the test. Do not change or stop medications without first consulting your health care provider.

--They didn't tell me to not take any medications this morning.

You should avoid all foods containing caffeine for 8 hours before the test.

--I had my normal cup of coffee this morning

Sometimes it is necessary to sleep during the test, so you may be asked to reduce your sleep time the night before.

--They didn't tell me to deprive myself of sleep.

So what's going to happen now? People have to be more on the ball about stuff. I'm not going to reschedule because it's already a pain in the butt to diverge from the normal course of my day. I just won't say anything when I go in for the test. It'll be our little secret.

What to write about, what to write about?

I am finding I have nothing to say today. My husband and daugther have MLK day off and I don't, so that sucks major donkey balls. Other than that, I have nothing else to say. My knee is feeling a little better, but I still can't straighten it or move very quickly. I went to my first hockey game over the weekend. It was Notre Dame vs. Miami of Ohio. Notre Dame lost. Knowing nothing about hockey and can at least say that the Notre Dame team doesn't pass very well. Everytime one of the guys shot a puck to a team member, they missed. Well, probably not everytime, but it was pretty damn close to everytime. My friend and I made fun of this bitch who came up to us and said we were in her seat and she has season tickets so she should know. Oooooh, season tickets for a crappy hockey team. Oooooh, aren't you special? Ooooh. They weren't even her season tickets because my friend works in the athletic department and she knew that the seats the lady was using belong to another person in the athletic department, which means the bitch got the tickets from someone else. They were good seats, though. We were right behind a goal and everytime a puck hit the widow, I screamed. I mean, it makes a really loud noise when it hits and everytime it did, I was looking in some other direction so it always startled me.

Random Interjection

My knee is fucking killing me.

Karaoke Down Under

Back in the day before the Police was my favorite group, I much fancied Men at Work. I still like them a lot, but they were just no competition for Sting et al. in my mind. I had a massive crush on Colin Hay. All I'll say is that I was 13, and he seemed quirky and fun to me. I like quirky and fun, so sue me. Actually, he's not looking too bad, these days.



However, I will admit he's a little fruity looking here. Note to Colin: ix-nay on the uke and orange prison shirt.



So here I am (at my daugther's request) paying tribute to the band that was almost my favorite band by singing Land Down Under for your listening pleasure.

As a side note, I find it kind of funny that my daughter likes this song so much. I don't know why I find it funny considering that I like it a whole heck of a lot, too.

Continuing saga of the knee

Well, I went to my regular doctor yesterday so she could take a look at my knee and she thinks it's possible I may have torn some cartiledge. I'll be having an MRI next week to discover the true extent of damage. Hopefully, I haven't torn cartiledge. Hopefully, my knee can get back to good shape with just physical therapy. She also gave me crutches so I don't have to use the immobilizer anymore, which is good because I can already feel my knee getting stiff and using crutches makes it easier to sit down and things like that. I can, in fact, put weight on my leg now and I'm primarily using the crutch just in case. I think my dependence at this point is more psychological than anything else because I am really afraid of my knee giving out if I step down. However, the suckiness of this entire situation is still pretty sucky. I've never injured my knee before and I never imagined doing so could be such a pain in the posterior, in addition to the knee. I told my doctor that the good side note of all of this is that I never felt like I was going to pass out when I injured the knee, so that should indicate something good. She gave me a high-five when I told her that. I also have an EEG next week to try and pinpoint this fainting/near-fainting problem I seem to be experiencing. Having to go in for these tests is really screwing up my schedule, though. I don't know why taking care of these things can't be a little more convenient.

In fact, I'm apparently the world's biggest wuss.

Taekwondo class number two last night. Blown knee number one last night. I don't know what's going on with these injuries and all from taekwondo, but it's starting to piss me off. I never knew a bad landing could cause so much pain. Here is my poor gimpy leg.



They call this contraption the "Immobilizer." It sounds like the title for an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Anyway, I'm mad about the entire thing because I can't take class or jog until my knee heals. In the end, the doctor at the after hours walk-in diagnosed it as a sprain, but I've got to go to my normal doctor for follow-up. They took an x-ray last night and didn't see a break or anything, which is good. I've never injured my knee before, so this is all new to me.

When I landed from a number two jump kick, it felt like my knee joint popped out of the socket. It hurt like a mofo. I was lying on the mat and my husband and daughter came running over and I told everyone to finish the class. All I could was just lie there until the pain went away. Basically, this sucks.

I'm not the ass-kicker I thought I was

My husband and I had our first taekwondo lesson this past Saturday. My husband did surprisingly well. He finished the entire lesson. I, on the other hand, nearly passed out. I really almost passed out. We were doing a jumping exercised when my left ankle (which is the one I sprained last year) buckled and I fell. I got up and went back to the drill when I began to feel very light-headed. I sat down and realized I was on the verge of passing out because I started seeing starbursts, my hearing went out in my left ear and all the lights seemed really bright. The only reason I didn't pass out was because I sat down and put my head down before I had the chance. Anyway, I find it odd that I should nearly pass out after a similar sort of fall from the last time I passed out. I told my aunt about it and she said I should get checked for peripheral artery disease. I don't know what that is, but it seems obvious that if there's some sort of connection between me twisting my ankle and fainting, it started with the initial sprain. I'll call my doctor and find out if it's something I should be aware of. After I sat down for awhile and got my wits back, I finished out the class. I'm going to wear an ankle brace from now on. We have our next class tonight, so let's hope I can stay conscious for this one.

The odds of karaoke

So here we are back with another installment of Karaoke Friday, Friday, Friday. When I was in seventh or eighth grade, today's song was very, very popular. My sister sang it once as a solo for a choir concert. She did a good job as I remember, so now it's my turn to sing this song for one and all. I present me singing Against All Odds.

On a different note, my daugter has her first guitar lesson today. I think she's nervous. I'm basically forcing her to take the lessons because I don't think she's had enough of doing stuff for no other reason than because she just has to do it. She complained last night about how cruel I am and how I just don't understand her and all the rest of it. After she fell asleep I went down and told my husband I don't know what to with her. I hadn't figured on these kind of arguments until she was at least 13. I hate to admit it, but I think growing up really makes us forget how miserable we thought life was when we were kids. As much as we swore to ourselves we would never treat our kids the way our parents treated us, it all comes around to the same place. Life's funny.

And because it's Friday and the new year and all, I've got a very special two-fer treat for all of you today. As you may or may not recall, my Christmas gift to you a couple of weeks ago was my brilliant rendition of O Holy Night with Tracy Chapman, my home girl. Anyway, I've just come across a version of O Holy Night that is simply sublime. I've got nothing, I repeat NOTHING, on this guy, whoever he is. And I just want to share the love with all of you because you're beautiful and I would be nowhere without your love and support. So, please, enjoy this very special Christmas moment.

Snake on the run

My daughter's baby cornsnake escaped from his cage over the Christmas break. In fact, I discovered he was missing on Christmas Eve when my daughter asked me to get him out of the tank so she could hold him. Imagine my surprise when little Corny was nowhere to be found. What followed was a disappointing, half-hour search by everyone in the house. Everyone walked around with flashlights trying to see if we could find Corny. I knew was a lost cause, though. That snake is little and could be anywhere. I think he has to be dead by now because he was due for a feeding and he has no access to water. I can't imagine the little bugger has managed to survive. Needless to say, my daugther was very, very upset for about an hour. She cried and said Corny was her favorite pet and how would she go on without him. She asked for a new snake as soon as she stopped crying. I said no. Actually, I said, "Uh, yeah, no." And then I laughed derisively.

Call me Trinity

Over the holiday break, my husband and I basically paid up for our daugther to able to take taekwondo lessons for the rest of her natural life. Seriously, she can walk into any ATA location for the rest of her life and take lessons without having to pay. As a result, my husband and I also get taekwondo lessons for a year. We're supposed to start this month. If my uniform is in when I take my daugther to her lesson tonight, then I'm going to start today. I was a little peeved because the class right after my husband and I plunked down the money for our daugther's lifetime membership, they asked me if I wanted to pay up for all of my daugther's graduation fees. I said no. Actually, I said, "Uh, yeah, no." And then I laughed derisively. I said after having paid so much money, I was happy to pay the graduation fees as they came up from belt to belt. Anyway, I plan on taking full advantage of my year's lessons and these instructors better make me look like I jumped right out of The Matrix by this time next year. I'm not fooling. I better be able to kick some serious ass. But only in self-defense, of course. I'm not talking about anything retaliatory because that's not the taekwondo way.

Oh hey, check it. I discovered that I can use my new-fangled digital camera as a video recorder. Is that cool, or what? Yeah, it's totally cool. Here's my first guinea pig, my daughter.

Shy Girl

Happy New Year.

So real life comes crashing back with the force of a sledgehammer to the head. I really didn't want to wake up today, but I guess you can escape reality for only so long. Hope everyone had a good holiday break. I've got some things to do right now, so I'll be back in a little while to fill you in on what I've been up to for the last week and a half.

OK, I'm back. The most exciting thing to happen over break is that I got a digital camera from my mother and father for Christmas. Here I am showing my gratitude to them.



Actually, I'm bowing to them as a sign of respect. It's something my Korean family does every New Year's. All the kids bow to their parents and aunts and uncles, wish them a happy new year and get a wad of cash in return. I don't get money because I'm too old and I'm married and have my own family, but all the little kids get some greenback. My daughter made out pretty well this year. She made $170.

Anyway, back to the digital camera. So I've been taking lots of pictures with it and I'm pretty excited about it. My husband wants to use it to start posting things for sale on ebay. I'm still in the process of learning how to use it, but you'll probably start seeing more pictures up on the old blog from here on out. I'm going to try and master the candid shot so I can embarrass all my friends and family.

I'm outta here.

Both my editors have given me the day off tomorrow, which means my Christmas vacation starts a day early. Sweet. I will definitely be putting the day to good use sleeping. Actually, my brother and sister-in-law are coming in tomorrow morning, so I won't be doing much sleeping at all. We went to my husband's Christmas party last night and it was very nice. The only bad part was that I couldn't over-indulge in the open bar because I have to work today. Boo hoo. One of our friends has just started working for the credit union and was also at the party last night, so I told her I'd be Paris Hilton and she'd be Nicole Richie and we should just periodically strike a pose to see if anyone noticed. No one did, but it was fun working it, anyway. We had beef wellington, but I think they left out the pate. Not that I'm complaining. I'm not a liver person. The meal was good. Anyway, I'm outie while the university is closed so Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Winter Solstice. Whatever the heck you celebrate, I hope it's a good one.

Christmas frustration vent

That's all I have to say today.

The Boob Squisher From Planet 9

Had my first mammogram today. It was interesting in a very uninteresting sort of way. Now I know what the inside of my boobs look like, so that's cool. It wasn't painful or anything and they take the picture so quickly that you don't even have to have your tit tortured for too long. All in all, not that horrific of an experience. I was, however, the youngest woman in the waiting room. That was an interesting experience. The cover-up they gave me had more strings than could actually be used to tie up the entire thing, so I don't know what that was about. But all the women were walking around with loose strings hanging down out of their tops, so I figured I wasn't the only one who was confused. After the tech finished taking my x-rays, I asked if this is how they look for testicular cancer and she said no, unfortunately. Although, she said there were several men she'd like to get crammed into the machine. We laughed because your boob gets squashed pretty darn flat in that thing. If you did the same thing with men, I'm sure it would make their balls pop like grapes. That would be funny.

Holy karaoke, Batman!

OK, I'm gonna fess up that I didn't have time to do one of my normal karaoke recordings, so I had to do something from the hip, here. The sound quality suffers as a result, but there's not much I can do about that with my limited resources. Sorry. You'll just have to deal. Anyway, this is one of my favorite Christmas songs, so here are me and my home girl Tracy Chapman singing O Holy Night.

Last night my daughter was invited to participate in the leadership program at her taekwondo school, and she's pretty much thinking she's it on a stick right now. I'm pretty proud of her and think she's worked hard to earn the invitation, but I have to wonder how much of the decision-making process on the part of the instructor relates to the desire to make more money. I'm just starting to get the feeling this entire karate thing is more about making money than actually teaching the kids martial arts. I'm just saying, is all. Last night, one of the fathers came in drunk. It was really impressive, as I'm sure you can guess. I don't think the instructor realized it, but I'm going to tell him tonight just because they need to be aware of the problem if something arises. I feel like a bit of a stool pigeon, but that's just unacceptable. You don't come into your kid's karate lesson pissed on too much beer. That's just straight out of the Joan Crawford School of Parenting.

And just because I know my karaoke talents are not enough to satisfy your voracious appetite, here's an early Christmas present for you. Bask in the love, here.


Because I love you, girl.

Woman on the edge.

That's me. I'm pulled so taut right now, I don't think it would take much to make me snap. I actually daydream about some guy making inappropriate advances on me in the elevator so I can have a reason to go off on someone just to release a little of the pressure. However, since the majority of men I encounter in elevators are meek professor types, it doesn't seem as if I'll be able to let loose on some unsuspecting perv. I'm a time bomb, folks. A time bomb. Why does Christmas do this to people? I can remember when I was a kid and it seemed like Christmas came so slowly and it didn't seem possible that I could survive the wait. Now, it comes so quickly I feel like the Christmas season needs to be at least two months long to get everything done. I haven't even sent my cards out yet because I haven't had time to finish addressing envelopes. I know these are petty problems compared to the people who have no family, no food or no home. But they're my headaches so they seem major to me.

My daughter's Christmas concert was last night and she did a great job, I think. All the kids did a great job. Why is it so funny listening to kids sing? It is, though. You've got the kids who are putting their all into the performance like they're Mariah. It's great. One girl scared people in the audience beause she came in so loudly on her cue. People actually jumped in their seats. It was hilarious. Kids are funny. Anyway, that's all I have time for today. Keep on keeping on, as they say.

Oh, here's a picture of my brother, sister and me from our mother's birthday party this past weekend. Don't we look happy? Not frazzled, at all. If only it were real. If only we weren't crying behind the smiles.

Hi-ya!

My daughter, who started taking taekwondo a few weeks ago, earned her orange belt last night. Although, it should probably be "earned" her orange belt last night. Apparently, you get the orange belt for learning how to take karate class and that's about it. The instructor helped her through most of her moves, but she didn't seem to mind. She was pretty psyched about everything last night, so we took her to Bob Evans afterward to celebrate. From here on out, though, earning new belts is more dependent upon actually learning moves and improving behavior and staying focused. I'm kind of interested in taking the taekwondo classes, myself. I've always wanted to take martial arts, but never got around to it. Since the kid's in class, it seems like a good time. I'm going to wait until spring, though, after we pay our tax bill. We had to pay $500 for our daughter's classes, so I'll have to wait a bit before I drop another five C-notes for myself. She started learning jump kicks last night and my husband said he wanted to give it a try. That made me laugh because the last time he tried something that youthful, he broke his ass. Literally.

Whew.

Back from Chicago. The party went over well. My brother, sister and I got a cruise for my mom's birthday present. She and my dad will be visiting the eastern Carribean in Februray aboard Celebrity Cruises. Apparently, my mother really didn't know that was going to be her gift, but you can never really know with my mother. She's like the CIA. My father has known about the cruise for quite some time because he had to arrange for his vacation time. Anyway, I hope they have a good time. It's the first time either one will be on a cruise.

I'm pretty wiped out right now and I cannot wait for Christmas vacation to start. The university closes from Christmas to New Year's and I am really feeling the burn this year. I really need a break. We are hosting an open house on Saturday so I've got to spend this week cleaning. Then my parents and brother and sister-in-law come here next week, which means I have to do major, major cleaning. My mom notices every single unclean thing and will proceed to clean it herself when she discovers it. It's annoying but the only way to avoid it is to make sure there's nothing for her to clean. I am talking about things like the stove and the refridgerator. She'll do the laundry if she sees it. Stuff like that. Anyway, I'll talk later. I've got stuff to do right now.

Winter Wonderland

I hate walking in a Winter Wonderland, but that's what we've got outside today. We were hit pretty good with the snow over the evening. My husband went out early and cleared out the driveway and everything. It took him an hour and a half. There's a lot of snow out there. We'll be heading to Chicago this weekend, so I hope the snow's pretty much been cleared away by the time we hit the road. Once, when we drove to spend Christmas with my sister when she lived in Madison (which is about four hours from South Bend), we ended up being in the car for 12 hours because of a snowstorm that chose that evening to blow through the area. The more incredible thing about that story is that we actually ended up passing my parents who where driving from DC that night. It's a good thing, too, because my dad ended up having a flat when we were almost to my sister's house and I hate to think how long they would have been out there on their own. But between my brother, husband and dad, they were able to get the tired changed relatively quickly.

The present that wasn't.

When I got home yesterday, I found two boxes sitting on my porch. One box was stuff we ordered from Playmobil for our daugther's Christmas present and the other box was a deluxe BBQ crockpot. When I first saw the crockpot I thought that maybe it was my husband's Christmas present from the credit union where he works. But when I looked at it, I saw that it was addressed to me, which was surprising because I hadn't ordered a crockpot. So, of course, I assumed someoene else had ordered a crockpot for me because so many people love me I am frequently surprised with gifts of crockpots and other useful appliances. Anyway, when I opened the box the shipping slip said that the crockpot was supposed to be sent to some guy in Tennessee. I was immediately deflated to learn the crockpot was not a present for me. Nobody at all had tried to send me a crockpot. How this crockpot came to me is a mystery. I callled Bed, Bath & Beyond (which is from where the crockpot was sent) and told them I got a crockpot not meant for me. The B,B&B people couldn't figure out how I received the crockpot either. Anyway, long story short, I asked them if I was supposed to receive some other gift from someone else and if that was the reason why the crockpot was mislabeled. The B,B&B lady said that there wasn't another order that was supposed to be sent to me in the computer system. So I was doubly deflated to learn that there was no present at all coming my way. Nobody was trying to send me a crockpot. Nobody. It's a nice crockpot, too. It looks like you can do pit pork or pit beef or pit chicken in it. That would be a nice crockpot to have. So, I slapped the return label on the crockpot, and B,B&B is sending UPS to my house to pick up the box. Oh well, it was nice for awhile to think someone out there was trying to surprise me with the crockpot of my dreams.

Here is the crockpot not meant for me.



Just look at those succulent ribs. Those could've been mine.

My favorite thing in the world.

Not. Today I have my yearly woman's exam, which is one of the necessary evils we women must endure. I hate my yearly woman's exam, and I don't think I've ever met a woman who does enjoy them. Frankly, I'd be worried about the woman who did enjoy having a metal torture device shoved up her cootch, only to have it mechanically opened so someone can swab out the insides with an oversized Q-Tip. Not pleasant. The worst part is your dripping KY-Jelly for the rest of day. That's was really sucks. Sometimes they do get a little over-zealous with the KY-Jelly use. Once, when I was in college, the nurse practitioner had used so much KY-Jelly that as soon as I got up to start getting dressed, all the jelly just started spilling out and down my leg. The worst part of that was that as it came out it made fart-like noises. So I'm standing there having to talk to the nurse while the tinkling of vagina farts fills the office with their sweet sounds. Seriously, that was one of the most embarrassing days of my life.

The big 6-0.

This weekend my family is heading to Chicago to celebrate my mother's 60th birthday. The 60th birthday is a big celebration in Korean culture, probably because everyone was amazed that a person could live to 60 in the old days. Anyway, most of my mother's family lives in Chicago, which is why the party will be there. The party is always thrown by the children; however, since I am the closest geographically to the Windy City, I've bascially taken care of all the arrangements. My mother has been complaining to my father about why he let us throw the party. She's doing her false Korean modesty bit, but we all know there's no way in hell we could have actually not thrown her a party. Not that we mind, anyway. But it's just one of those things we have to deal with. When we planned our father's party four years ago, my mother gave me such a hard time about it I decided when it was her turn, I was just going to arrange the party and only bother to tell her when she and my dad should show up, and that's pretty much what I've done. I didn't ask her where she wanted it. I didn't ask her when she wanted it. I didn't ask her if she wanted it. And the entire process has gone pretty smoothly as a result. I have to say that I'm giving myself major props on this one.

It's Monday. Blech! I'm taking the easy way out today.

It's Monday and I wish it wasn't because I want to sleep. I'm getting another cold sore, which is probably why I am so tired. Luckily, my sexy American girlfriend took some pictures this past weekend when she came over to babysit my daughter, and that gives me something to post today. My husband and I actually went out twice this weekend, which is really quite amazing. Anyway, since I rarely wear make-up, I figured I'd put up a picture to celebrate the rare occassion of my gussing up.

This is a picture of my husband and me right before we went to a charity dinner Saturday night. It was an auction to support an organization called Hannah's House which houses expectant and new mothers and their children until they can get on their feet. It was okay. The best part for me was when my husband's boss bought all the ladies at our table a grab bag and I ended up with the best prize--the complete fifth season of Good Times on DVD. Everyone was jealous of me.



Ths is a picture of my daughter with her chinchilla. The chinchilla's name is Fuzzy.



Oh, we bought one of those blow-up Christmas lawn decoration things this weekend. It's a penguin sitting on top of an igloo. My daughter thought it was cute. She spent a lot of time last night commenting on how we are the only family on our block to have one. It's the small things that make her feel special.

Here's our penguin.

I will karaoke.

Some things are just meant to go together: peanut butter and jelly, steak and eggs, Lewis and Martin. In that vein, nothing goes together better than karaoke and disco. There's just something about the bright lights and thumping tunes that make the two better than they would ever be on their own. Let's think about it. What is the quintessential disco song of all time? I Will Survive, of course, which also is eerily the quintessential karaoke song of all time. Disco and karaoke, disco and karaoke--a classic combination. So step back Deney Terrio, here I am singing I Will Survive. And for all you haters out there, suck my ass. Suck it until the grit gets caught in your teeth, you bastards.

You're a god.

The only reason that's my post title is because that's the song I'm listening to right now. Went to a reading last night for a past MFAer here at Notre Dame. He came to read a bit from his book and share some new stuff. It was alright. His name is Kevin Ducey and he's a good guy. I keep telling him he has to make reference to the Borg in one of his poems, though, because of the time we saw a rather large woman wearing a Borg t-shirt at the AWP bookfair a couple of years ago. He still hasn't. He said he's currently working on a project about Simone Weil. He says he's interested in transformation. I said that's the perfect platform for the Borg mention. Borg are all about transformation and metamorphosis. He laughed. Now we'll see if he has the guts to go through with it. After the reading, I stopped by the university bookstore to look for something new for my daughter. We just finished the Spiderwick Chronicles and she's devastated that there are no more books. She's already mentioned that she doesn't know what she'll do when the last Harry Potter comes out. Personally, I am really curious to know what J.K. Rowling will start writing once she's done with Harry Potter. It's snowing outside. It bums me out because I can only think about the hassle of cleaning off my car. I hate snow.

Forgive me, Father.

My daughter has her first confession next week. I think she's nervous. It's going to be a family reconciliation mass, so we all get to go to confession. Sweet. That's sarcasm, by the way. However, because we will all be saying the Act of Contrition before going into confession, I won't have to worry about remembering/ forgetting it in front of the priest, which is basically where all my anxiety lies in going to confession. I don't go to confession often. In fact, I can't tell you the last time I went to confession. It doesn't really bother me to bare my soul to the priest, but I feel like a fraud in some ways. I feel sorry for my sins because I'm supposed to but not because I really, really, personally feel sorry for my sins. I know when I'm doing something that's not nice or good before I do it. I've already had the opportunity to change my behavior before the fact and I've chosen to do the "wrong" thing, regardless. So to go in after the fact and confess seems two-faced to me. Plus God knows what the real deal is. The priest doesn't. Am I really forgiven? I don't know. However, I am going to go to a priest that's not assigned to our church. The priests I see every week don't need to know my business.

Of dead spiders and pinkies.

There was a big grey spider crawling on one of my computer wires so I rolled up a galley and smashed it. I don't know if I killed it, though, because there was grey smudge on the back of the galley, but no spider anywhere. I couldn't find its body anywhere. I hope it doesn't surprise me by climbing up my leg or something. I hate spiders. We were at the pet store last night picking up a pinkie to feed to the kid's snake and they had these huge birdeating spiders there. Ugh. It creeps me out just to think about it because, really, they were HUGE. Spiders aren't supposed to be that big. That's all there is to it. They had something interesting at the pet store I've never seen before, however. It's a degu, which looks like this:


It's from South America and is part of the squirrel family. At least that's what the very large boy at the store told us last night. Anyway, my daughter got one look at it and had to investigate. The thing I really love about my daughter whenever we go to this pet store to buy the pinkie every week is that she always says, "I'm going to go check out the mammals, Mom," while I'm waiting at the counter. I find it hilarious. Anyway, this degu looked kind of like a gopher to me. It was cute and everything and my daughter was trying to get me to pet it. But I said no. I knew she was trying to sucker me into buying it. I was strong, though. I resisted. Anyway, I'd already told her that she's not getting anything new until Christmas, so that was that.

Oh, and you'll be happy to know we took the pinkie home and the snake ate it.

I'm never going to eat again.

I ate a lot this weekend. I ate a whole lot this weekend. I ate a whole lot of junk this weekend. I'm never going to eat again. Well, that's a lie because I have eaten, but you get what I'm talking about. Why do we feel compelled to overeat at Thanksgiving? It's because there's too much food, obviously. I didn't cook this Thanksgiving because we went to our friends' house, but I still managed to eat too much. It was all good, though. After we'd all eaten, we sat on the floor and looked at the sales flyers for the next day. Wal-Mart opened at 5 a.m. to kick-off their sale and I asked, "Who gets up at five in the morning to go shopping?" And then my friend answered, "Ooooh, I can't wait. I've been really excited for the sales to start." I said that's why they have such good deals that early in the morning because it's the crazy person sale. They figure anyone crazy enough to get up that early deserves to get their merchandise for practically free. Anyway, I did go out and do my bit the day after Thanksgiving, however, I didn't leave the house until 1:00 in the afternoon and it was to get a dress for my daughter to wear to her Christmas concert. What's interesting about my daughter now is that she is beginning to develop very definite opinions about what type of clothes she will be wearing. She pretty much picked out the dress we bought, even though it's two sizes too big, it was the only one left and she had to have it because none of the other dresses were "her style." Luckily, the dress is intended to be ashort, empire waist dress, so it looks natural enough one her because the waist is actually at her waist and the bottom of the dress comes down to her knees. I do have to hem up the sleeves, but that's not too big a deal. Oh, I bought her shoes, too. And pajamas. But that was it. We only went to two stores--Kohl's and Target. So I was civilized and all.

Karaoke gobble.

Even though I won't be posting for the next four days, you didn't think I was going to leave you hanging with no new song, did you? Today, I have the great pleasure of bringing you the soothing sounds of my daughter's Christmas concert solo, which will be performed next month. She's been practicing awfully hard and I think you should all feel honored that she's giving you this sneak peek. So here is my daughter singing whatever Christmas song she's singing.

Happy early Thanksgiving, you turkeys.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, so I hope all of you get nice and stuffed...with food. My family will be enjoying the day at our friends' house. I'm going to make this brussel sprout recipe I got from my sister where you saute shallots in butter and then saute in lightly steamed brussel sprouts. Then you let the stuff simmer in cream and white wine for a little bit before spreading gruyere cheese all over the whole mess and then baking it for an hour. It is goooooooooooooood! Take my word on it. Anyway, have a great day and travel safely.

Well, I tried.

Sunday, we bought a pinkie to feed to my daughter's snake, as we do just about every Sunday or Monday or Tuesday. Basically, whenever we can get to the pet store to pick up the pinkie. Anyway, we bought the pinkie on Sunday and threw it into the feeding tank with the snake and it decides he's not going to eat the mouse. I don't know why. It had been a week since he'd eaten last, so he should have been hungry. We left him in with the mouse about an hour or so, but he didn't touch it. So we put the snake back in his tank and I kept the pinkie in the feeding tank, thinking maybe I'll try to tomorrow if it's still alive when we get up. I threw in some bedding just to help keep it warm during the night. When we woke up Monday, the pinkie was still alive, so I put the snake in with it to see if anything would happen and nothing. I tried feeding the snake again after I got home yesterday, but he still wouldn't take it. Meanwhile, my husband is saying he's just going to flush the mouse down the toilet and I'm like, "No, I paid money for that thing. The snake is going to eat it." However, I realized we didn't have a lot of time on our hands before the pinkie expired, so I thought maybe I can keep this thing alive until the snake decides to eat it. So I warmed up a little cream and tried feeding the pinkie with a medicine dispenser. I think I got it to drink some of it. I fed it again before I went to sleep and covered it with bedding and everything, but when I woke up this morning, it was dead. So now I have to go and buy another pinkie to try and feed the snake. But I think I'll wait until this weekend to make sure he's nice and hungry. I'm not wasting anymore money.

I've offically crossed the line.

This past weekend I did something I never thought I'd be crazy/stupid enough to do--I got up at 5:30 a.m. to go to a sale that started at 7:00 a.m. What about this sale was inticing enough to get me up at the butt-crack of dawn on a Saturday? Well, the flyer said they would be selling the Sharper Image Ionic Breeze for $150, plus with the 15% coupon that was in the flyer, it would be even cheaper. I've wanted a Sharper Image Ionic Breeze for about as long as there has been a Sharper Image Ionic Breeze. These things cost about $350. That's a little steep for my blood, but I've never let go of the dream that one day the Ionic Breeze would be mine. Anyway, I get up, get showered, drink my coffe when I realize that the sale is probably for the small Sharper Image Ionic Breeze because that is just too good a deal. I looked at the flyer and there's no mention of size, of course, because they probably know most people want the big size and aren't going to schlep to the store at 7:00 a.m. if they know it's just the small one. So I say to my husband, "I bet you that's going to be the small Ionic Breeze." He says, "You're probably right." So there I am thinking, damn, I got up and that's probably not what I want, but I'm up, I can't take the chance of it being the full-sized one and letting this opportunity pass, so I finish my coffee and walk out the door.

I pulled into the store parking lot and there's a line outside the door. I'm thinking, "Holy crap! Why are all these people here so early?" One of the reasons I got up so early was because I didn't want to deal with a lot of people. As I've gotten older, I really hate shopping when there are too many people around because this sort of Lord of the Flies thing starts to happen when there are too many people crammed into a finite space looking for deals. People lose their freaking minds. They dive for stuff like they're diabetics grabbing for the last vial of insulin on the planet. So anyway, I get out of the car and stand in line and ask the lady in front of me if the store is opened yet and she says, "No." I didn't have to wait long, though, because I pulled in at about five after 7:00. They open the doors and as we're all shuffling in, we're handed a little scratch card that apparently will reveal an additional savings amount of either $10, $15 or $25. I hear a girl on a cellphone telling someone, "We're one of the first 500, so I got a card." I didn't know anything about this first 500 business and I can't believe that all these people came so early just to get the scratch card because you know everyone's going to get a card for $10 because there's only one card for $15 and one card for $25. The store is not trying to give away money. So I go and find the Ionic Breeze and surprise, surpise, it's the small one. They've got couple of the large ones and I drag it over to a cashier and ask if the large one is on sale, too, because it's got a price tag of $350 on it. She scans it and my 15% coupon and my $10 scratch card and says that neither one took, so it's not on sale. I really expected it, but I'm crushed nonetheless. The cashier asks if I want to buy it and I say, "No. It's not on sale. Why would I buy it?" So I went and bought a couple of Christmas gifts and a pair of boots and gauchos for myself to wear to a benefit dinner I have to go to with my husband in a couple of weeks. I also got my husband a few shirts and ties for work and some some shirts and a pair of jeans for my daughter. In the end I spent something like $300, which would have pretty much been the Ionic Breeze anyway, but it was about the principle, man.

Oh, we also went to watch Goblet of Fire Friday night and left in about the last half hour because our daughter got freaked out. She's very familiar with the book because she's listened to it about 50 times, but I also knew that it might be too intense for her because of the PG-13 rating. We told her that this movie was probably going to be scarier than the other movies and even though she knew the story, she should let us know if she was getting too scared and we'd leave. So right as all the champions enter the maze she turns to us and says, "I want to leave." So we did. Kind of a bummer, but we know what happens and the DVD will be out soon enough. My daughter said in the car that she thinks she won't be so scared when she watches the DVD because the picture is smaller and the sound isn't so loud. However, up until the point we left, I thought they did a pretty good job with this one. I was really disappointed with Prisoner of Azkaban because I felt it was really choppy and that they left some really important information out. I was skeptical about the success they'd have with Goblet of Fire because it's an even longer book and they were still going to try and fit it all into two and a half hours. I really thought they should do a Matrix sort of thing and make it a long movie released in two parts. But, considering the limitations, I thought they did a good job. I wish they would have shown at least a little of the quidditch world cup game. Maybe they'll have some of that on the DVD.

Let's get karaoke!

When I was a girl, I really liked Olivia Newton-John. She was so cute in Grease and I wanted to be a muse after watching Xanadu five hundred million times. This is not an exaggeration. When I was in the sixth grade--which was about 1981 or so--my parents bought our first VCR. This is while we were living in Germany. They also bought two movies for us to watch on the VCR: Flash Gordon and Xanadu. I kid you not, my brother, sister and I watched Flash Gordon and Xanadu after school everyday for about two years. My sister and I recorded the songs off Xanadu by holding a tape recorder up to the television speaker so we could listen to the music anytime we wanted. I used to draw pictures of the muses. I really wanted to be Olivia Newton-John. All of this was before the time of Remington Steele, however, when I then became obsessed with Stephanie Zimbalist as Det. Laura Holt, and then wanted to be her. Not Stephanie Zimbalist, though. I wanted to be Laura Holt. Anyway, back to Olivia. Let's just say, I used to like her a lot. So here I am singing Physical.

Must sleep. Eyes drooping.

I am freaking TIRED today. I didn't get much slepp because I took a nap for a couple of hours before I had to go to this reading at a local coffee shop and then when I got home, I took my codeine and for some reason that kept me awake even more. I didn't go to sleep until about midnight or so. I wake up at 5:30, so I really, really want to sleep right now. It's snowing. AAARRGH!!! I hate snow. Whine, whine, whine. Of course, my husband hasn't raked the leaves yet, so those are now being covered by snow and slowly turnin into large ice mountains in our driveway and yard. Great. Love it when that happens. We're supposed to go to the game this Saturday. A friend of ours gave us her tickets at the last minute. It's supposed to snow this weekend. I really don't like going to football games when it snows because it basically sucks. My husband is really keen to go watch football in the snow because he has this completely warped idea that it's going to be fun. I've tried explaining to him that it's not fun. You sit there freezing your ass off, getting soaked as the falling snow hits you and melts into your clothes. Plus you're sitting on that cold metal bleacher seat. You know, that's how you get hemorroids? By sitting on cold surfaces. At least that's what my mother used to tell me when I was a teenager. I used to freak out if I had to sit on cold concrete because I was SURE I'd end up with huge polyps hanging out of my ass. Of course, my mother has told me the reason I have large nostrils is because I stretched them open by picking my nose all the time as a child. So maybe Mom's a little off on this one, too. The only time I've ever had hemorroids was after I had my daughter and that basically because you end up pushing out all your internal organs with the baby. Of course, that includes turning your rectum inside out in the process. It can't be helped, I've realized. I don't remember them lasting too long or giving me too much discomfort. Of course, I was so bothered by the itching from my episiotomy, that I don't think I'd noticed much of anything else. Which makes me want to point out that Britney Spears must be crazy for going out braless. Isn't she worried about her boobs leaking? I had to wear a nursing bra and pads for about a year after my daughter was born because of milk leakage. I even had to wear them to bed. The only assumption I can make is that Britney must not be breastfeeding the little tike.

Codeine is good.

I have found out over the past few days that codeine is amazingly easy to get addicted to. Not that I have, mind you, but I can definitely see how people get hooked on the stuff. I've been developing a chest cold over the last half-week or so and I started taking some of my leftover codeine cough syrup from a similar bout of phlegm-producing coughing a couple of months ago. Anyway, last time, I think I only took one teaspoon of the suggested one-two teaspoon dose. This time I figured, hey, let's kick it up and notch and I've been taking the two-teaspoon dose for the last couple of days. The first time I took it, I could feel it. I was high as a kite, as they like to say. Yeah, it was fun. Last night I took the two teaspoons before bed and while I got a little sleepy, no high. No goofy desire to spin around in the middle of the room a la Jodie Foster in Nell screaming, "Flyin in tha wiiiinn." Nothing, nada. Just sleepiness. So I started thinking, "Damn, how much would I have to take now to get that same giddiness as before?" I wasn't going to try, but it just made me realize that there's probably a lot of people who just go ahead and take more. I've developed that level of tolerance in only a couple of days. A couple of days. That's amazing to me. I also see why they don't give you refills on the stuff. However, I do believe my husband has a leftover bottle of his own codeine syrup lurking in the medicine cabinet. Hmmmm.

How I got my Blue Heron pen for free.

Here is my Blue Heron pen, which I got for free.
If you'd like to know how I got it for free, I'll tell you. This past weekend my family went to Frankenmuth, MI, which touts itself as Little Bavaria. It was an alright place, but kind of disappointing because it wasn't really a Little Bavaria; although, my husband did buy a cuckoo clock which he's apparently wanted his entire life, so at least he's been able to fulfill that dream. At any rate, Frankenmuth didn't really create a little snapshot of Germany because they didn't sell bratwurst on brotchen, I couldn't find a decent pair of lederhosen anywhere, and there was no gingerbread to be found. However, I did have the best egg noodles I've ever tasted at the Bavarian Inn Restaurant. So, while we're in Frankenmuth, we stop by the St. Julian winery store where they offer free samples and whatnot. My husband bought a bottle of brandy and I picked out a nice bottle of cherry wine which was really tasty. While we're checking out, the manager says something to the register boy about giving away the postcards to whoever wants them. I noticed there was also a selection of pens by the register and I said, "What about the pens? Are those free for the taking as well?" And the manager said, "Uh, no. But you can have one for a dollar." I said, "But I'd like one as a free souvenir." At that time, my husband asked the manager if they can ship to Indiana. While the manager was looking through the book I said, "Tell you what, ask me a question, any question, and if I get it right, you'll give me one of these pens for free." So he said, "OK, do we ship to Indiana?" And I said, "No." And he said, "Go ahead and pick out a pen." I did a little happy dance at the register and told the manager he was a cool cat. And that's how I got my free pen, which doesn't even write well, by the way. I would have been really pissed if I'd paid a buck for it.

In other news, my sexy American girlfriend has found a sexy Italian boy toy. Figures. Figures she'd turn her back on our love for a little peck and tickle from some buff, overly-athletic Casanova from Tuscany, to boot. How can I compete with Tuscany and the accent? I can't, dammit. I can't. Oh, the torment. Oh, the woe. What ever shall I do?

A karaoke by any other name...

The summer before my freshman year of high school, I attended a summer camp for the performing and visual arts. I was there for drama. Every year camp organizers ended the summer's activities with, what else, a talent show. While we all were required to perform some "class" project, we could also perform other solo or group efforts. A girl I new from middle school was there for piano and asked if I'd like to sing The Rose while she played the piano. I said sure. I always liked The Rose and thought singing for the talent show would be a nice diversion from the entire theatre thang. So I practised and sang for two weeks getting ready, but at the last minute she decided she didn't want to do it, so that was the end of my grand moment in the spotlight. Because, of course, I imagined everyone would reward me with a standing ovation. Our drama project was some improv on the Salem witch trials. I don't know how we came up with that one, but I don't remember it being particularly interesting. So here I am for my close-up Mr. DeMille, singing The Rose.

George, we hardly knew you.

George the parakeet is gone and Fred the parakeet has taken his place. I decided that George was too timid and shy and that he'd never make a good pet for our family, so we exchanged him last night for a more lively and curious bird. My husband had picked out George on his own and based his decision primarily on looks. However, after reading parakeet pages on the internet and leafing through the parakeet care book that my husband brought home, I came to the realization that George was just too frightened of life to ever feel cozy with the seven other living creatures using up air in our house. Plus, the little fucker clawed the hell out of my wrist and nearly bit my pinkie off when I tried to get him back into the cage after he managed a brief breakout.

While we were picking out the new parakeet last night my husband said he was sorry for doing a bad job of picking out the first bird. I said I was just surprised since my husband is an avid birdwatcher and has had birds as pets for many years of his life. He said he makes up for it though by having immediately recognized that Fred was a good-tempered bird. I said I recognized immediately that George was a bad-tempered bird with no experience with birds at all and my husband said what I immediately recognized was insubordination and that's what soured me to George. I don't know what he's trying to say by that.

Fred looks like this parakeet.




George looked like this parakeet.


















In my opinion, George was the prettier bird, but as we know, looks don't count for much. I also think Fred might actually be a girl because her cere is more brownish than blue, and that's apparently one way of distinguishing gender in the noble parakeet. Why does it not surprise me that the boy ended up being the pain in the ass?

My pants are really loud today.

The party's over.

I announced at my social life commission meeting that I want to step down as the committee chair person because I need a freaking break and a half. I've done it for two years and it's time for someone else to dot the i's and cross the t's. The only reason I originally agreed to do it is because my friend said we'd basically run it as co-chairs. I was really just agreeing to letting them use my name for figurehead purposes. Anyway, that friend quit the committee some months ago becase she was completely overwhelmed by the many responsibilities she has on her plate, and utterly underwhelmed by the level of support we were enjoying from the pastoral council and parish. There have only ever been a handful of us on the committee anyway, but there are really only two other members we can rely upon in a fairly consistent manner in terms of attending meetings and taking on responsibilities for planning our various social events. Even while my friend was still on the committee, it seemed like my life was dominated by church social life planning because most of the other members were very relaxed in their participation. I took care of thing because it needed to be done, but now I'd like to be one of the people who just shows up whenever I like and just stands around waiting to be told what to do. Actually, not really. I don't want to be chair person anymore, but I still plan on working on the committee. I'm just tired of having to keep track of everything. However, the thing that sort of broke the camel's back for me is that I happened to reschedule the meeting that should have taken place Monday to Tuesday because I'd forgotten about having the meeting on Monday and scheduled something else for that night. Anyway, one of the other people on the committee called me and complained that it wasn't right to change meeting dates since she had sent out an e-mail a couple of months ago with the schedule for all the meetings for the upcoming year and I said, "Well, I already sent the e-mail to everyone rescheduling so there's nothing to be done about it now." To which she replied, "We shouldn't do this."

I said, "If you still want to hold the meeting, go right ahead. I don't care, but I'm not going to be there because I didn't make arrangements for it."

Then she said, "No, that's fine. I won't be there tomorrow."

Fine, great, like it really makes a difference in the whole scheme of things. But I have to say I really resented the implication that I was somehow interfering with the group's progress by rescheduling, like I'd committed some grave sin. Anyway, that was the end of the line for me. I'm officially tired of running around like a chicken with my head cut off while others take a more leisurely approach. Someone else can worry about the details now. And that's all I really have to say about that.

In other news, it is girl scout cookie time again. The official sale begins today; although, I've sold a few boxes already. This morning my daughter informed me that I "have chosen the wrong path" by selling early. I tried to tell her I only sold boxes to people who have no other connection to girl scouts, but she wasn't impressed and it made me realize that my kid is smarter than I am. I'm proud of her for telling me I broke the rules. It gives me confidence in thinking she'll continue to do the right thing as she grows up and won't be easily swayed by the ne'er-do-wells (like me) floating around her.

Welcome to the zoo.

The zoo being my house, of course. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but yesterday morning we woke up with three pets in the house. However, by the time we went to bed yesterday evening, we had five pets in the house. In addition to the chinchilla, rabbit and snake, we now have a hamster named Smokey and a parakeet named George. It's kind of a blur, but I firmly blame the lazy workers at Meijers. We were at Meijers (which is a large department/grocery store here)and we were looking at the pets when I decided I just wanted to check out a hamster that looked particularly cute because my daughter was pining for a new hamster since Snoozer died. Anyway, I wasn't really thinking let's get a hamster but I wanted to check out the personality of the hamster we were looking at. Anyway, there was no one manning the pet department so I caught this one kid walking buy and told him I needed help. He said to pick up the red courtesy phone to get someone there, which I did. That phone rang like thirty times and no one bothered to pick up. So I walked over to where that same kid was leaning against a tower of boxes drinking a soda, talking to another kid stocking the dairy section.

"No one is picking up the phone," I said.

"Ah, man," he replied in an annoyed manner, "they're just being lazy. I'll go get someone."

I'm thinking as he walks away, I didn't see you doing anything to help me. I don't know how you could be calling someone else lazy. Anyway, after a couple of minutes he comes back and says he put in a call and someone should be there to help me. Well, I waited. I waited a long time. I waited so long I even picked up the red courtesy phone again just to see if that could speed things up a bit. It didn't. I saw that the keys for the animal cages were lying by the sink in the pet department and I asked my husband if he'd get upset if I opened the hamster cage myself. He said he didn't think that would be a good idea. So I searched down the boy that had been stocking the dairy section and grabbed him by the arm and led him back to the pet department and said, "I just need you to open the cage. I'd do it myself, but I don't want to get my husband all bothered."

So we get to the cages, he unlocks it and I get the hamster out and I told him he could leave the keys with me and I'd lock everything up again. He said OK. At this point, I was very annoyed and I was thinking, "I'm buying this damn hamster because I went to all this trouble to get it out of the cage." Anyway, as I locked up the cage and we started looking for a box to put the hamster in, the actual pet department boy comes running over saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but they've got me running all over."

I said, "Well, I took care of the situation myself. I just need you to write the price on the box."

As we left, I walked up to a manager and said, "You know, I'd like a discount on this hamster because I basically did everything myself to get it. I waited a long, long time for assistance, but it never came so I took matters into my own hands. I'm thinking lets take two dollars off the cost." And she said OK, go right ahead. So I did. The hamster ended up costing $7.99. I'm thinking I should have asked for at least three dollars off, now.

My husband said if I get that hamster, he's getting a parakeet, which he did, and that's how we ended up with two more pets. Now I think I made a mistake getting that hamster.

In Memoriam

Bryce
Jan. 1991-November 2005
(rescued from Missoula Humane Society, Dec. 1991)



My sexy American girlfriend lost her poochy pal Bryce a couple of days ago. Of Bryce she says: "Bryce's name, when I got her, was Lady Belle. I came to understand that Bryce had spunk and personality in addition to the grace of a lady. She became my father's dog and would paw him in the car if he stopped for too long in any location. Bryce had part of her left ear chewed off by coyotes and whenever she heard them howling she went and hid under the bed. She had straitions of color on her fur ranging from tan to grey to black and each leg and foot looked like she wore old-fashioned women's shoes because of the tan color. I had a dream about Bryce the night before I adopted her and I had a dream she went to doggie heaven a few days before she died."

A BRYCIE POEM

By Tyler, age 6

Octopus on Bryci's necklace.

Doggie on her head.

2 and 5 more dogs.

Keisha, Max, and Truffle

and the spotted China doggie

in the tree. Brycie is cute.

Brycie is beautiful. She wears

a red gingham bow. She copies

whatever letter I do.


Rest in peace, Bryce. Look after Snoozer for me.

Karaoke Fame!

When I was a kid I loved the show Fame. I loved the movie, too. I wanted to be one of the kids in Fame. I wanted to go to a performing arts high school. At the time that I really, really loved watching Fame, we lived in Frederick, Maryland, which is a suburb of DC. I heard that there was a performing arts high school in the city similar to the one in Fame. I begged my parents to let me audition so I could study drama. My father asked, "How are you going to go to school in DC?"

I said, "You can drive me."

"No, that's not going to happen," my father informed me.

"Why not?" I demanded. "It's only forty-five minutes to get there."

"It's not going to happen," my father repeated.

I hated him for refusing to drive me to school in the city. Of course, hated him in the way 14-year-old kids hate their parents when they won't let them do something they want to do. I couldn't understand how my parents could intentionally stand between me and Fame. Didn't they know how important it was to me? Didn't they know that I was meant to live my life on stage? Didn't they know that being an actress was all I wanted in life? They didn't know anything about me. They didn't want to see me live my dream. I should have been Coco, except for the dancing part. I was never much of a dancer. But, I'm not going to say I should have been Doris because she was so, you know, dumpy. If only. If only my parents would have let me go to school in DC. Why? Why? Why? OK, I'm too overwrought to go on right now. Here I am singing Irene Cara's Out Here On My Own.

Li'l four-eyes.

My daughter has started wearing glasses. She's quite excited and proud about the entire thing, but I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I've passed on my malformed eyeballs. In many ways it was inevitable that she'd need glasses because both my husband and I had to start wearing glasses as children, but I hoped. I hoped with all my might that she might be spared the back-breaking hassle of having to deal with glasses and contacts and bad vision. I've got very, very, very, very, very bad astigmatism. I imagine my eyeballs look something like a deformed grape. Anyway, my daughter has very slight astigmatism and, right now, she probably really only needs to wear her glasses for things like reading the chalk board. I'm encouraging her to take her glasses off when she doesn't need them so that her eyes don't become dependent on the glasses too quickly. I don't know that doing this will mean a hill of beans in the long run, but I have hated, HATED, having such messed-up eyes. I think about having lasic surgery but I'm a little afraid of it because if they screw up your eyes, that's it. There's no turning back. You have fucked-up eyes. End of story. I can't think of anything worse than going through something like lasic for nothing. Also, I've been told my pupils are too large, but that was a few years ago and, supposedly, they have better techniques for dealing with large pupils. I'll probably still look into it a little bit more, but I don't know. I did find out something I hadn't known: If your eyesight causes you to have headaches, it's probably due to astigmatism. That's what the eye doctor told me after she examined my daughter's eyes. In all my years, I'd never learned that.

Sexy American girlfriend.

Here is a picture of my sexy American girlfriend. However, her identity will have to remain a mystery to all of you because I don't want you to get any smart ideas and try to steal her from me. Because she's mine.

No candy for you!

Since I spent so much time complaining about my life in yesterday's post, I forgot to talk about how my husband has declared we will no longer pass out candy on Halloween. When I got home Monday night with my daughter, his first words as soon as we walked through the door were, "That's it. I'm done. I'm never passing out candy again."

"Why?" I asked, assuming he hadn't much appreciated the rain.

"Because they're all ungrateful little shits, that's why."

He went on to explain that just about everyone who came to the house was rude and ill-mannered. He said kids just plunged their hands into the bowl instead of waiting to be given candy and that only a couple of children said thank you. "They don't deserve candy," he said. I told him that as long as we're sending our kid out to collect candy, we're giving it away. But he's pretty riled up about the whole thing. I agree, though. Kids today are shits. At least a lot of them are. Obviously, there are good kids too, but it seems like an awful lot lack even the most basic in good manners. Is that the parents' fault? Yeah, of course. The kids can't learn what they've never been taught. Which makes me wonder why so many modern parents don't seem to think it's important to teach good manners.

Oh, and in my neverending quest to humiliate my siblings, here's a picture of my brother from his bachelor party weekend. This man is 31 years old, believe it or not.

Can someone gimme a break, I say, gimme a break?

Today, right now at this very moment, I feel stressed and completely out of sorts. I know a lot of this is just me feeling sorry for myself but I feel like there is just way too much going on right now and it's just getting harder and harder to keep track of things. Yesterday was Halloween, so we did the trick-or-treat thing, which was fine until it started raiing. But that's really neither here nor there. Only that it takes up valuable after work/ school time so there's no time left to do the sorts of things that need to be taken care of bathing my child, going over homework properly, paying bills. You know, normal stuff. Tonight I have to go with my husband to pick up stuff for a memorial mass at church tomorrow. My husband volunteered to buy food and whatnot for the reception afterward. Then, of course, I'll have to go with him tomorrow to help set the thing up. That in and of itself is not that big a deal because my husband always helps out with social life stuff I take care of at church. Part of the stress of this entire situation is that the person who is supposed to be in charge isn't doing what he's supposed to be doing and he's basically leaving everyone floundering to take care of things. This is the first thing my husband has done for this new committee he just joined and he's pretty sure it's going to be the last thing he does if the leadership is this fractured. So that takes up tonight and Wednesday night. Then Thursday night, my husband and I have to go to some charity dinner for his job. Again, that's fine. I don't mind getting gussied up for a nice dinner every now and again, but it's difficult doing this sort of thing in the middle of the week when your kid has school the next day and you have work and you have to try and find someone to watch your kid in the middle of the week. In the meantime, you notice, there's no time to clean house, make a decent meal, take care of the kid's school business, etc., etc. Like I said, mostly just me bitching about nothing of any great importance, but it's so interesting how all these relatively inconsequential things clump together into major baggage. Is that life or is that just me? Don't know and don't really have time to figure it out right now.