Listy McListerson

1. Thanksgiving was lovely, as was the turkey, despite what the husband says. And only because of the holiday did I relent and let him have a slice of tart (that sounds dirty).

2. Black Friday was lovely also, and I got a good head-start on Christmas shopping. Neither one of us was trampled or witnessed anyone being trampled, so I consider it a success.

3. I have a psychology final next Tuesday and then I'm done done done! with this semester. Amen.

4. I started a Twitter account last week. If possible, I think I suck harder at updating it than I do my blog.

5. Keely tagged me for a bookworm meme. She specifically said I couldn't use textbooks, but it really is the closest book to me, AND she really isn't the boss of me or the meme. So there. Rules state:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 56.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next two to five sentences.
5. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book or the intellectual one. Pick the Closest.
6. Tag five people to do the same.

Sooo...

"It is this system that allows the brain and spinal cord to communicate with the sensory systems of the eyes, ears, skin, and mouth and allows the brain and spinal cord to control the muscles and glands of the body. The PNS can be divided into two major systems, the somatic nervous system and the autonomic nervous system."

Tell me that isn't fascinating.

I'm tagging the husband, Elisa, and Melanie.

The turkey should've totally been the national bird anyway

The husband is on thin ice, people. I always knew he was never fond of turkey (if that's even POSSIBLE), but to have him declare it publicly like that...woo. I don't even know, man.

I adore turkey the whole year, but Thanksgiving is like, the pinnacle of turkeydom. Yes, there were those few years of the pale, anemic, dry turkeys, but I've encouraged my mom change her roasting ways. Now our turkeys are toasty brown, crispy skinned, and oh so juicy. Meat falls off the bone and is perfectly seasoned. Not bland and boring as the husband insists.

I'm not even sure I can be with a man who thinks otherwise.

Besides, let's talk about mashed potatoes. When I merely suggested this year that we make another kind of potato dish rather than mashed, my family, including the husband, nearly rioted. I calmly offered up several other options...scalloped, roasted, casseroled...and was met with angry stares and the threat of looting. COME ON. We eat mashed fucking potatoes all. the. time. They're not even that tasty! They're simply a starchy vessel on which to eat cream and butter. We can actually eat cream and butter in better forms!

But whatever. All I know is that I will be bringing two homemade maple pecan tarts to my mother's for Thanksgiving. And I'm thinking that slices of tart will only be handed out to card-carrying turkey lovers who can convince me of their utter adoration of the bird.

Selfish? Weird? Obsessive? Maybe. But a marriage is at stake here.

Say cheese

The husband and I took the three kids to have professional pictures taken for Christmas. This was the first time I've attempted this feat with all three, and I'm thinking that after Saturday, it was probably the last, despite my mom's pleas.

Our appointment was at 10:40, and we arrived promptly and were told it would be 10 to 15 minutes. Fine. We browsed Target. I tried to keep Smella's curls under control. We went back to the portrait place and were told it would be another 10 to 15 minutes. FINE. By now the kids are bored and whiny. We browsed the $1 bins, trying to keep the kids from rolling on the floor and clean.

We were finally taken back almost an hour after our scheduled appointment.

The photographer was sweet and has three kids of her own, so she was understanding of my COMPLETELY NUTBAG CHILDREN. Big D refused to listen to instructions AT SEVEN YEARS OLD, Smella was easily distracted by bright, shiny objects, and Boobers forgot how to smile. The smiliest baby in the world was stone-faced sober.

I should've known better; I've tried taking pictures at home of all three of them at the same time. But I figured that in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, things would go a little more smoothly. Cha.

By the end of the appointment, Smella was whining for a drink, Boobers was crying because I wouldn't let him destroy the fake Christmas scene they had set up, and Big D was bouncing off walls...because, uh, that's what he does, I was sweating and gritting my teeth, and the husband was vowing to never do that again.

But we have lovely, lovely Christmas pictures to stuff into my Christmas cards. I certainly hope my mother's happy. Next year, I'm making her take them.

Karma is a bitch

I'm not a tiny person. Short, yes. Small waist and little hips? No. So when Mr. LA Fitness came into work a few weeks ago, I think he saw a prime target.

Construction has begun on a new LA Fitness just a little down the road from where I work. In the meantime, they have a small table and chair covered by a tent sitting on the side of the road with a huge banner that reads, "JOIN NOW!" I'd love to know how many people have stopped, cranes and steel beams in the background, battling four lanes of traffic to sign up with a guy who has a folding chair as his only piece of office equipment.

He had on his little white polo, embroidered with the LA Fitness logo on the pocket. He ordered his drink and then asked, "Hey! Do you need a gym membership?" UM. I probably do, really. We all have eyes, we can all see that yeah, I'd probably benefit from a little exercise, and it's quite apparent you're the biggest salesy salesman, but really. Don't try to hawk your wares to me while I'm at work.

I told him it would probably be way more money than I could afford, and besides, I really do love donuts. He assured me he'd give me THE BEST DEAL EVER. I assured him it would still be too much. "BEST DEAL EVER!" "UNLESS IT'S APPROXIMATELY $2 A MONTH, NO WAY!" He continued that way the whole time I made his drink. Him going, "I can cut you such a deal," and me going, "Uh, doubt it."

While he was standing, waiting for his drink, an older guy who comes in at least once a day, stepped up behind him. I turned to him, smiled, and said, "You need a gym membership? This guy will totally help you out."

LA Fitness guy turned to him and started his spiel. Older guy patted his small gut and said he was already in shape. He squinted at the guy's polo and smirked slightly.

"Oh. You're that guy that's been sitting on the side of the road!"

The flustered look of the LA Fitness guy was priceless. He stammered, handed out business cards and slunk out of the store.

No means no, ya know?

Meow, quack, blargh

Boobers has been working on his animal sounds. Occasionally they sound deranged.

Ingrates

Let me tell you how absolutely cool I acted yesterday during dinner. I was ever so proud of myself. I spent yesterday cleaning the whole house and doing countless loads of laundry, but I still managed to cook dinner. There was a recipe in last Sunday's paper for a pork tenderloin with Asian peanut sauce, so we had that with buttered noodles and green beans.

My oldest? Big D? He's kind of a butthead when it comes to eating. As in, he doesn't really like to eat anything save for chicken nuggets and maybe a grilled cheese. In the past year, I've put my foot down and said that I will NOT be making a separate dinner for him; he has to eat what I cook or nothing at all. Oh. And he's not allowed to vocalize just how gross or yucky or smelly dinner is. For the most part, this has worked okay, and he's even realized that hey! manicotti really isn't disgusting!

Baby steps, people.

So on to my tenderloin. It was perfectly cooked and tasty, and I love peanut sauces. Big D started bitching immediately, and Smella, being the small mockingbird she is, echoed all of his sentiments. I gently reminded them both of how rude it is to tell me repeatedly that dinner stinks, so shoosh and eat already. They both got hesitant bites, and Big D told me that was the weirdest tasting barbecue sauce* and Smella echoed that yes, it was stinky barbecue sauce. EWWWWW. GROSS. IT SMELLS BAD. YUCK.

I sucked in a breath and then slammed my fork on the dinner table and um, "voiced loudly" that they were to both stuff a sock in it and not speak for the whole rest of the meal. Either eat or starve to death. I was met with blinking eyes and the husband trying not to make eye contact with me.

The best part after a person explodes like that is the aftermath. Lots of cleared throats and clinking of silverware while the husband quietly adds up how much therapy will cost for three children.

Whatever. Wanna know what we're having tonight? I'm throwing tepid corndogs and ketchup at them and letting them figure it out.

*What? You think he'd eat it if I told him there was peanut butter in it? Come on.

Listy McListerson

1. Just a friendly reminder, once again, to leave when a place of business closes. Please don't wait for me to walk into the lobby and jangle my door keys suggestively in your direction. It's just awkward for everyone.

2. I only have about six weeks left of school in this semester. It looks like I'll be winding up with a 4.0. Hot damn. We'll see how long it lasts.

3. Big D has had a 4.0 gpa since 1st grade. It runs in families!

4. How's about Tuesday night, huh? Could it be any more awesome than that? Was I the only one pinching myself all day yesterday to make sure I wasn't dreaming?

5. Did you know the day after Halloween all the fun-size Snickers, Butterfingers, and Skittles go on sale? Did you also know they go ahead and vomit Christmas all over the fucking aisles? Hello? I think we forgot about Thanksgiving.

Election Day

Well, it's done. I filled in all the bubbles on my ballot. Now waiting and hoping that the people I was standing in line with for 45 minutes came to their senses and voted for the right person. And not the decrepit old man and his lipstick-wearing sidekick.

I love voting. I love the small sense of power it gives me.

I also love seeing the person I voted for win.

Here's to change.

So a cop, Blue, and a mouse walk into a bar

Here's the obligatory Halloween post! Halloween is slowly closing in on Christmas as being my favorite holiday. The weather is typically better, there's tons of free candy involved, and costumes do something about making your children the cutest they ever are.

First, my mouse. I asked this random cat if he would hold my mouse's hand. The cat complied and wound up holding his hand until it was time to leave. What's really funny is that Boobers let him.



Miss Blue, who actually said, "Happy trick or treat!" when someone answered the door and then sweetly told them, "Thank you!" I was pretty proud, and her bucket wound up being the heaviest because people would give her an extra piece or two for being too freaking cute.



My cop. He ran off early with the older kids and I didn't see him much the whole night. But when it came to meet up and head towards home, he blew his nifty whistle to let us know where his group was at. Handy, no?


And finally, the whole group. There were ten kids in all, and after doing head count after head count, it makes me appreciate people with more than three kids. Jon and Kate? Jim Bob and Michelle? You go, people.

In preparation

We took Smella trick-or-treating last year when she was a touch over two-years-old. She was a bumblebee, and blond and cute, but she really didn't grasp the concept. Yes, she loved candy, but that whole speaking-to-strangers thing really bummed her out. She's shy until she warms up, and unfortunately the whole "Hi! Trick or treat! Thank you!" isn't long enough for her to warm up.

I've been talking about trick-or-treating for the last several days. I tell her she's going to dress up, have her ghastly orange pumpkin bucket, and then she'll need to say "Trick or treat!" after she knocks on someone's door. And then she has to say "Thank you!" after they slip her candy.

"But what else do I say?"

"That's really it. 'Trick or treat' and then 'Thank you.' Do you think you can do that?"

"They'll give me candy?"

We've had this same conversation over and over. It blows her mind that people hand out candy for free. She insists up and down that she'll say what she's supposed to, but I have my doubts. Nonetheless, I'm so excited. Smella sort of gets it, and Big D totally gets it, and this year Boobers will be wearing the same mouse costume that the other two wore on their second Halloweens.

I love this part of parenting. Adorable, happy kids and free candy times three. It doesn't get any better.

And again with the lists

1. Remember when K moved to the middle of nowhere a few months ago? Well, due to some unfortunate events, she's moving again. And while the reason she's moving is kind of terrible, I'm so excited because she's moving 10-15 minutes away from me. Yay! I might actually get to see her more than twice a year now. Which is good because she just found out she's pregnant with number four. Our middle and youngest children are five weeks apart each, but I told her she has to go this one alone. I'm totally with her in spirit though, especially since I'll get to snuggle and smoosh a brand new baby in a few months.

2. I finished my 1500-word argument paper for English, and I took my psychology midterm last night, so I'm done for the week. It seems weird not to have anything to do or study or write, but I'm enjoying the week of rest.

3. This blog. Gah. I want so much to keep up with it better, but I'm having a hard time doing that. I don't even really have anything exciting going on to write about, but I feel like I should check in at least once a week.

4. This list is only going to have four things on it. Completely weird and even numbered, but I can't poop out anything else. I think I may go nap instead.

Listy McListerson

1. I'm sitting here, taking a break from house-cleaning, eating a bowl of fajita lasagna. Perhaps the trashiest casserole I've ever made, but man. It's tasty.

2. You know what? I enjoy the Doodlebops. They're creepy half-puppet humanoid things, but their tunes are catchy. And that one blue Doodle? Rooney? You know he'd be HOT without make-up and puppet fingers. Rawr.

3. The husband took the day off of work to watch Obama speak in downtown Indy today. I can almost bet he only went so he could blog about it later.

4. I finally bought Halloween costumes for the kids. I actually didn't procrastinate this year, so Big D gets to be the police officer he's wanted to be for like the, oh, past two years. Wonder when the Mother of the Year awards are handed out?

5. Even though I can't be downtown watching Obama speak, I'm still totally voting for him. And unlike when I voted for Kerry, I'm actually excited to vote for him. I'd vote for whatever Democrat was nominated, but I actually like the guy and what he stands for. I can't wait for November 4.

It's fall, y'all!

Perhaps the only thing I like about fall is our annual trip to the orchard. We always seem to pick the best day in October to go, and this past Sunday was no exception. Cool and crisp but still warm in the sun. Apple cider, hooded jackets, and prickly hay. What more could one want?










And finally, this is my favorite picture. Maybe of all time, ever. First, ignore my sister's butt in the background. (And if she knew I were posting her butt for everyone on the Internets to see, well, let's just say hell hath no fury like a woman whose butt's been posted on the Internets for everyone to see, know what I mean?)

Anyway, that's Super Smella down at the bottom of the picture. I had snapped the photo just as she decided to head-dive into the pumpkins, but it completely looks like she may have been flying and was just coming in for a landing. (No babies were hurt in the making of these pictures.)


Happy Autumn. If it didn't drag in its pal Winter, it'd be a completely badass season.

Customer of the day updates

1. Remember this guy? I've come to find out that he is a regular in the mid-afternoon (when I'm not there) and he consistently puts nuts on the top of his drink. He also has to widen the notch of his lid to slurp his nuts (that's what she said.)

2. And remember this lady? She still comes through drive-thru and gets her four Splenda ice tea. Even though she cussed out a barista, called corporate on our store, threatened to sue, and swore UP AND DOWN she'd never be back.

3. How I could I forget The God Squad? Well, it appears I had, or I haven't been working enough Sunday nights, because I completely forgot how annoying pure they were them until they showed up a few nights ago. Still syrupy sweet and still giggling wholesomely, I might add.

4. And finally, this chick. All summer long it's been her stupid Frappuccino, the one where we have to add so much extra ice to it that it's actually broken down our blenders. But now that the weather's turned cooler, she's back to ordering her hot drink. It's been over two years and she only orders these two drinks. It's like going to McDonald's daily and ordering either a Big Mac or a side salad. Who can live without any variety?

5. Can I just say that people, in general, are so very, very weird?

Why we need a dog

or What happens when you skip a day of sweeping
or The cat really needs to step up her game
or You know your blog has gone to shit when you start posting pictures of piles of dirt
and I still need a digital SLR and maybe a photography class

Listy McListerson

1. I HATE Comcast with a fiery, red hot passion. I hear the other ones aren't much better--DishTV and DirectTV--but I plan on dumping Comcast just out of principle. I'm almost positive they employ the dumbest humans on the planet. "Oh, your IQ is 4? HAVE I GOT A JOB FOR YOU!"

2. We went to this place on Friday night to celebrate K's husband's 30th birthday. It was a lot of fun, and someone requested Ben Fold's "Army." Perhaps the worst version ever, but you have to give the piano guy an A for trying. I guess.

3. I had one too many mai-tais at the above mentioned place. I'm still paying the price of it. Big old wuss when it comes to alcohol? Oh, hi. That'd be me.

4. I'm on hold with Comcast right now. While I write a blog post. Did I mention I hate them? The last time I called them, which happens to have been Thursday, the person who answered was whispering. I had to say three times, "I can't hear you very well, sorry" before the chick decided to actually speak into the phone receiver/headset. And then she told me that she really couldn't help me with my problem. I Googled and found the damn solution myself. And I send in money to these people monthly. Really.

5. They couldn't fix today's problem. They'll be sending someone out on Tuesday morning. If that isn't some FINE customer service, I don't know what is.

Ben Folds revisited

Last Friday, the husband and I went with a couple of friends to see Ben Folds play with the Fort Wayne Philharmonic Orchestra. We've seen him several times, but this is the first time we've seen him with an orchestra. I'd love to know who did the arrangement, because he typically doesn't have tubas and cellos in his music. It was lovely, and the "opening act" was the orchestra all by themselves, and they played a Beatles medley. You just haven't lived until you hear violins bust out on "Come Together."

But I guess I should've warned our friends that we are the people that always sit in close proximity of assholes. Friday was no exception! Right behind us were the young, probably half-drunk assholes: the assholes that sang WAY too loud, wolf-whistled WAY too many times, laughed WAY too loud at Ben's jokes, and kept yelling out, "Rock This Bitch!"

We were in a theater. Like super old, ornately gilded ceiling kind of theater. It was gorgeous. And small. Small enough that you could hear pretty much everything an audience member said. (I would've taken pictures, but photography was forbidden, not that that stopped anyone and then I felt like an ass for following the rules.)

Look. I want you to enjoy your concert experience, I do. You paid just as much money as I did. But you're only two feet behind me; I can hear everything you say and do, jackass. And when I'm trying to listen to Ben sing, I don't want your tone-deaf ass muddling that up. And for the love of god, if you shrilly wolf-whistle in my ear ONE MORE TIME, I'm dragging you out of the theater to beat the ever-loving shit out of you.

Rock that, bitch.

The more you know

So Keely from The Un Mom tagged me. She also writes at A Letter to Xander. This meme totally fits in with my whole listy thing I have going, so I'm doing it. I have to list seven random things about myself and then pass it on to seven other blogs. Ready?

1. I could be vegetarian if it weren't for poultry. I really, really like chicken and turkey. I like to go to steak houses and order chicken. Screw a bunch of beef, pork and DEFINITELY fish.

2. Smella's into asking what time it is. Constantly. I confess to sometimes telling her the wrong time just because she doesn't have a clue.

3. I can deal with blood, poop and barf, but snot does me in. Like turns me into a gagging hot mess. I'm really hoping my nursing gig doesn't involve much snot.

4. If a customer is unnecessarily rude to me at work, I give them decaf. So don't order your drink and then say, "And make sure you make it right." Oh, I'll make it RIGHT, buddy.

5. I kind of want my eyebrow pierced and a tattoo on my foot. The only thing really stopping me is that they're both kind of expensive.

6. Like Keely, I'm an atheist. Unlike Keely, I'm the only one in my family. I'm also way more liberal than they are. Family gatherings are a blast.

7. I think I'm allergic to pumpkin guts. When I scoop out a pumpkin, my hand and arm get kind of burny and itchy. But I can scarf a pumpkin pie without any ill effects.

So there you go. I shall tag:

Ane
Ann
Elisa
The Husband

Okay, um, I think that's everyone I'm going to pester. I'd totally tag Dooce, but I bet she'd totally snub me. Something about 4 million emails a day or something. Cha.

Listy McListerson

1. We're going to see Ben Folds tomorrow night. BEN FOLDS. That's really all I need to say.

2. The beauty of having a husband who is smart? He helps write your research papers. The beauty of online classes? That you can have your husband help write your research papers.

3. Can we just agree that petulant, whiny little bitch Kenley needs to go home already? Did you see the "hip-hop" ensemble she whipped up? She even had LL Cool J stuttering.

4. In the span of about two weeks, Boobers has had a black eye, a huge goose-egg on his head, rug burn on his nose and upper lip, and last night I was informed he somehow fell and bit his lower lip. He's our little prizefighter. Not a winning prizefighter, mind you, but still.

5. Perhaps the only good thing about fall is candy corn. And the best thing about candy corn is that I can only eat about five pieces (or two of those pumpkin ones) before I get a little gaggy. It's like they are their own portion control! Also, at my local Target, I found caramel and chocolate candy corn. Huzzah!

5b. "Huzzah" is a real word. I had no idea.

Oh deer

We live in a pretty suburban area, but we're butted up against some woods. The woods are small and on the other side of them is another subdivision.

Yet we still have these visitors often. I think the two that came to hang out in our yard today were the babies I've seen hanging around their mama. These fawns have grown and their white spots are fading. I'm not sure where mama was, but they were feasting on my slightly overgrown yard.

NOM, NOM, NOM

Oh, shit. You're looking at us WAY too hard.

I call this "Deer in Headlights." Yes, I know there are no headlights. WHAT OF IT?

I completely want a pet deer now. Are deer like cats? If you whip out a can of tuna, will they be your best friends? These guys didn't seem to mind me at all. I stood on my front porch for a good ten minutes, snapping pictures. They would occasionally pop a head up with weeds dangling out of their mouths to check me out and then go back to eating. They got a touch nervous when Smella came out though, and they decided to nonchalantly walk back into the woods.

See? I have the best of both worlds. Deer in my yard and a Target within three miles. Woot!