Black Friday

With coupons and fruit snacks in my purse, we made the big trip to the mall yesterday to do a little shopping and see Santa Clause. We talked about how it would be over breakfast:

“We’ll wait our turn. Then Santa Clause will put you on his lap and I will be right there too. He will ask you if you’ve been a good girl, what are you going to tell him?”

“Yes, I’m good one and I’ll tell him I want One Pony with a Brush for Christmas”

“Good! Remember you have to tell him loud in his ear like this… ‘SANTA CLAUSE, I WOULD LIKE A PONY PLEASE’ can you do that?”

“Yes, I will first tell him I am good and then I will tell him I would like a pony – looouud.”

After a forty minute drive we circled the parking lot for twenty minutes trolling for a space. Each barley missed spot was followed with “Crap!” and on the sixth or seventh exasperated turn of the wheel Ella started to whine she wanted out of her seat and the “Crap” turned into “Crappity crap crap!” and on the fourteenth or fifteenth circle for a spot I threw my hands up in the air and Ella asked me “Mom? Did you just crap?” and that was when I finally decided to park in the lot across the street.

On the hike through the parking lots we reviewed the Santa Claus visit. Ella agreed again she was ready to talk loud about the ponies and she would say ‘cheese’ at the end so I could take a picture. We fought our way through the first department store weaving in and out of lines twenty long sprouting from each register. When we finally reached the wide open span of the mall I bent down and took Ella’s coat off and asked her if she was getting excited to see Santa. She nodded and I hung our things off the back of the stroller. We strolled up to center court and surveyed the Santa Area. I bent down and asked Ella if she was ready, her eyes were wide as she nervously nodded. I circled the Santa Castle trying to stall while she found her nerve. When she seemed calm I unbuckled her stroller belt and held her hand as we entered the Santa Castle line.

The first turn had us waiting in front of a diorama of children all snug in their beds. “It’s ok to push the button if you want to.” I said and Ella toyed with the idea for a few minutes. I pretended I was entirely interested in what was on sale in the leather coat shop window while I proudly watched her through the corner of my eye find the courage to push the button. Sugar plumbs danced above the kids heads and Ella smiled and watched quietly soaking it all in. We rounded the corner fast and ended up waiting again in front of the third diorama this one of reindeer pulling a sleigh with Santa Claus in it. The little boy behind us clung to his Dad’s neck while the Dad tried to prod his son into pushing the button to make the reindeer legs gallop in the sky. Ella marched right over and pushed the button and when the father said to his son “See! She can push the button why can’t you?!” I winced a little in my head and leaned down to pick Ella up.

“We’re going to see Santa pretty soon. The baby in line in front of us is going to sit on Santa’s lap and…”

“Mom! It’s Santa CLAUSE” she said insisting I use his full name.

“Oh yeah. The baby will sit on Santa CLAUS’s lap and then we will see him, and when it’s your turn you can tell him you are a good girl and tell him what you would like for Christmas and tell him loud and then you will say cheese for the picture, ok?”

“I’m ready Mom!”

We waited and watched the baby take her turn. Ella confidently held my hand standing on her own two feet. We moved forward and watched the baby’s parents pay for two hundred and eighty two pictures of the baby and Santa and then it was Ella’s turn! I peeled her sweater off revealing her Christmas shirt. I turned to hang it on the stroller. I turned back around to find a crazed elf/lady of about 45 poking Ella in the ribs with an Elmo puppet trying to get her to cheer up before she sat on Santa’s lap. I quickly squatted next to Ella and put my arms around her. Ella pressed into me unsure of this new freaky element. The elf brought her face unusually close to Ella and gave her some fuzzy-wuzzy baby-waby talk about liking Santa “B‘cause him wuvs good widdow gews and bwoys and...” some other sappy drivel. At this point I think Ella tried to crawl into my shirt. I picked my horrified toddler up and exclaimed “Let’s get this show on the road.” while I skirted the elf and found our Santa Claus.

Santa Claus was smiling and ready with a twinkle in his eye and a wave for Ella, she climbed right up into his lap and leaned in. They talked about something briefly all quiet and close and I resisted the urge to lean in and eavesdrop by walking over to the camera and looking into the computer screen. I wanted that moment on film, Ella and Santa telling secrets to each other, “Let’s get a picture” I said to the elf. When she grabbed up that Elmo puppet and walked towards Ella I thought about tackling her to the floor and stuffing that stupid Elmo puppet down her gullet. Instead she poked Ella in the ribs with it and when Ella recoiled in horror she said “Did I find a ticklish spot?” and did it again. I rubbed my forehead and waited for the tears. Ella held it together pretty well and I paid for my $15.00 3x5 plus two sparkly key chains while Ella clung to my leg hiding from the dreaded elf with her hand up Elmo’s rear.

Here's hoping your Holiday Season starts off with a smile.

Economic Changes

Dinner Conversation from Yesterday:

Uncle Mark: What are you going to be when you grow up?

Me: Yeah Ella, what are you going to go to work and do when you’re big?

Ella: I’m going to be a mermaid and I’m going to go to work and build houses like Grandpa.

Dan: Yeah, you gotta have something that pays the bills

Uncle Mark: I understand the mermaid racket has really gone downhill since sonar and GPS and all. You know back in the day you could lure those boats out pretty easy and take ‘em down like that ~snap~ and then gather up all that booty, but now days you do all that work to bait them out and end up with an oil spill – shit, that’s hardly worth it. Those mermaids just aren’t in it for the money any more.

Ella: Yep.

Surreal Morning

When you step outside on the porch the neighborhood smells like turkey already. Country folk out here have Thanksgiving at like noon. Dan parents always served later because we could never get there on time they'd have dinner at 1:00 - gasp. We’d be finished washing up the dishes and home with leftovers by 4:00. Not this year, my Dad is doing Thanksgiving this year for us, my brothers, my grandparents, all my cousins and uncles we'll eat about 6:00 or so and follow dinner with port wine and hot chocolates late into the evening over cards and maybe even a chess board. This is the better arrangement to me; it gives us time to watch The Knights Who Say ‘Ni’ sing “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” during the Macy’s parade before we even get a shower. Ella is enthralled by the knight’s tap dancing and is attempting it in her feety jammies and that’s top entertainment right there.

Give Thanks

I awoke this morning to more sunshine and the promise of temps in the 50s. This is good for a run to the city today to find a present for my Grandfather’s 80th birthday. Getting in and our of our warm car to shop with giant coats and hats and gloves and scarves for two is a project in itself and one I’m glad I won’t have to tackle yet. People will be on high today getting things ready for Thanksgiving and some may even be doing a little Christmas shopping. I expect to find crabby parents yelling at crying children in shopping carts and smiling old ladies winking in the direction of those children hoping to secretly convey some granny magic that will fix the mood in the cart. I’ll no doubt see gobs of teenagers dressed for August under the skimpiest of jackets standing around looking aloof and text messaging each other across the mall. I’ll see young mothers struggling with sticky toddlers in umbrella strollers and old mothers who will have every conceivable situation already prepared for in their designer diaper bags the two will judge each other through haughty sunglasses.

Ella will want to ride in the stroller and touch everything pretty and shiny, I will let her and in turn she will let me shop. She will want to ride the carousel at the food court and I will give her a dollar to ride while I get a smoothie. I will want to try on a new perfume at Macy’s and she will stare through the glass at the sparkly rings. We’ll stroll past Cinnabon and breath deep. When Ella hears another mother yelling for her child to “Shut up!” in the elevator she will cling tighter to me and whisper “She’s mean” in my ear while I nod. We’ll peek into Spencers at the gag gifts and gargoyles and the smoke rolling out the door, I’ll reminisce at Hot Topic, and Ella will play for a minute or two at the toy store. When we start to snap at each other it will be time to start home. Together we’ll sing during the long drive home and maybe Ella will fall asleep. I’ll carry her in to the couch sit down to read my e-mail. Today will be a good day. Thanks Milo.

Wrapped Around Her Finger

"Daddy, you and I will go and get that toy and we will bring it home and then you will open it for me and I will play with it and I will tell you 'Thank you very much Daddy'"

5 in the Morning

5 little things that are making my morning good

Instant Coffee
Enough sleep
Clean dishes
Sunshine
Wrens outside the window

Bettie and Clay

Clay and Bettie lived kitty-corner from us and every spring Clay would mix up a batch of blue cement paint and invite us over to help him paint the inside of his pool. Bettie would make bologna sandwiches and a few PB&J for Chris who was vegetarian and we’d have lunch afterwards. For the rest of the summer the pool would be open to us to use in thanks for helping. They were always good neighbors even when the rooster moved into their front hedge. Apparently a farmer had lent out an ornery rooster to another neighbor to keep a stray dog out of the front yard and the rooster decided he liked Clay and Bettie’s hedge better then his intended living quarters a few blocks away. Clay fed him corn for days until the police chief came down and chased him around the block and took him back to the farm he came from.

After they moved across town they always came to our front yard for the Memorial Day Parade and we came to reserve a table for them. We’d move our best lawn furniture to the front yard and I’d make a little sign for the top that read “Reserved for the Henneman’s” This tickled Bettie to no end and each year she’d look forward to those margaritas on my front lawn during the parade, where they'd be treated like the A-list celebrities of the party. The week after she’d thank me with a premium bottle of Tequila, I never had the heart to tell her we have 4 whole bottles of unopened Tequila in our bar. But I don’t think it wouldn’t have mattered, she’d have given them anyway, and that was Bettie. Always sending down pies, jelly or bottles of Tequila, she was a good neighbor even after they moved.





















BETTIMARIE HENNEMAN, 85 MERRILL GARDENS, Calif. - Bettimarie Henneman, 85, Merrill Gardens, Calif., formerly of Pecatonica, died at 6:24 p.m., Friday, Nov. 3, 2006, in San Ramon Medical Center, San Ramon, Calif. Born July 24, 1921 in Alma, Neb., the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Fay D. and Blanche (Jackson) Fuller. Lived 50-plus years in Pecatonica coming from Moorhead, Minn., before moving to California. Married Clarence Henneman in Bartlesville, Okla. on June 5, 1943. Bettie was employed as a secretary by K.C. Soil Service. Member of Pecatonica United Methodist Church, United Methodist Women's Group, PTA, active in Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts leader and neighborhood chairman, Methodist choir, vocalist and accompanist. Before moving to Pecatonica, she was a member of Fargo-Moorhead Women's Chorus, performing Handel's Messiah. Graduated from Dearborn High, Dearborn, Minn. Survivors include son, Craig (Carlotta) Henneman, Hayward, Calif.; daughter, Shelia Henneman, Anthem, Ariz.; son, Ladd (Carol) Henneman, Danville, Calif.; grandson, Christopher (Amanda) Harriosn, Pecatonica; granddaughters, Michelle and Nicole Henneman, Danville, Calif.; and Madison of Pecatonica. She was preceded in death by her parents, husband, daughter, Sherry Harrison; and brother, Frank Fuller. A memorial service will be held 11 a.m. Saturday, Nov. 18, in McCorkle Funeral Home, 203 West Fifth St., Pecatonica. Burial in Twelve Mile Grove Cemetery. Memorials may be given to the Pecatonica Rotary Club, P.O. Box 151, Pecatonica, IL 61063.

Be Careful What You Ask For

Does anyone else beside me watch “Ghost Hunters”? For those of you who don’t it’s a show where these Roto Rooter Guys get calls about unusual happenings and then go chase the ghosts. They bring cameras and magnetic detectors and infrared cameras and they go to haunted places and do and “investigation” and to debunk the claims of the haunted. I think the reason I love this show so much is three out of four haunting get debunked. They figure out that if you walk in “this spot” the chandelier moves or the “orbs” everyone has been seeing are actually a headlight reflection off of a bucket on the second floor stairwell. Of course that leaves one of four that they can’t explain and even so they just commit these places as “unexplained” it’s not very common that the word “haunted” comes from their mouths.

This week they went to Ireland and provoked a well known ghost in a well known castle and got hurt. One of the investigators was calling out into the air “What are you a wussy? Come on show yourself!” which these fellas sometimes do while trying to provoke an anomaly. So this guy is goading the ghost when he very suddenly falls to the ground. It took a few minutes before he wanted to get up and then he wanted to go outside immediately, he didn’t want to play any more. He just really got what he was asking for. Sometimes, it’s just not so smart to keep provoking a thing that you know could slam you to the ground.

Good TV I say. I love these guys. They will keep investigating oversees for the next few shows and I will Tevo every second. The European Ghosts seem to be extra feisty. Perhaps it's because they are older or maybe they just have a different understanding of the afterlife. All I know is that so far one out of one places investigated overseas has been officially called "HAUNTED".

Exhale

Taking kiddo to the local indoor play ground today. I'm going to read and unwind while she plays.

Wash Day

The first thing Ella did every morning the past week was put her Cinderella dress on over her jammies. When things don’t quite go her way she performs a very stern “Bibbidy Bobbidy Bo!” on them to see if the situation changes and apparently it does scare monsters out of her bedroom and occasionally it makes the dog move. I will attempt to put Ella in tights and a dress today in an effort to thwart her constant requests to help her with her "pretty dress". Perhaps she will find her own dress worthy enough and forget about the silver sparkly frock with strawberry juice and kid grease on the front long enough for me to wash it today.

Crafty Tough Girl

I’ve been running my own little derby sweat shop from the house for the last three days. We decided as a team to get together and sew up our own skirts and then we picked this skirt:











It’s not the hardest thing to sew, but we are making eighteen of them. Folks are coming again today to hopefully finish up the first part and then we’ll do final fittings tonight at practice before we finish all the hems and zippers. Instead of costing $39.95 it’s going to run each girl about $15.00 for material.

Dream Job

Big changes around here! Well really only one big change, starting on Wednesday Dan will be working from home. He took a great new job doing the same thing he does now plus and he get’s to have a home office. I am thrilled to see more Dan around here. Between skating and meetings and practice and fund raisers I was missing him.

This all started back when we took the trip in September. Dan passed up a wonderful job offer in Las Vegas. When I say wonderful I mean REALLY WONDERFUL! We made a list of pros and cons and still couldn’t agree on a plan of action. Then Dan made a list of qualities his dream job would offer and it turns out the Las Vegas job met a lot of those qualities but left out some very important pieces. So, we decided that money isn’t everything and family and friends and small town living was a priority for us. Then one day, not long after, the “dream job” called the house asking for Dan. He’s in Peoria today and tomorrow meeting his coworkers. He’ll be home on Wednesday to work.

We are so very proud of him. He is our hero.


The Tater Tots have a man at their house with a new job today too. Good Luck Mr. Tot!

Big Hair and Leg Warmers

The Rage did a fund raiser last night at a local pub. They threw an 80s party and I spent the first half of the evening laughing about the songs they played and finding out exactly what my younger teammates thought eighties garb looked like and I spent the second half of my night (after a few beers) Rockin’ the Casbah. This morning I feel like I smoked a pack of cigarettes and my feet hurt.

The Family Toboggan

When I was a kid we lived up the street from the greatest sled hill for two miles around. I say two miles because just two miles away was “Twin Sisters” sound scary? - It was, but I digress. We lived just two blocks from the greatest sled hill around it had a 45 degree angle for a good 8 second sled ride and ended on a baseball field so you were never in danger of smacking into the fence or trying to stop before you get to the slushy creek. My parents were serious about their down hills sports. As long as I can remember the family owner a toboggan and every November when the wind got cold and the air dry Dad would lay the toboggan out on the coffee table or the dining room table and get the bees wax ready. Our little hands would take the great hunks of buttery yellow wax bricks to the bottom of the toboggan until every dowel-hole, every miniscule crack and every crevice filled with wax smooth and shiny. It was like the Midwest version of a surfboard. Then we’d wait the long wait for snow.

When the snow finally came we’d pull on layers of winter clothes. First long underwear, then turtle neck, then knee socks with the long underwear tucked into them, then a sweater, and jeans and over those jeans another pair of jeans or sweat pants, a second pair of socks the outer ones wool, socks on your hands, winder coats, hats, mittens over the socks on your hands, and then mom would wind a great scarf over your face and you’d better be on your way out already or you’d be sweating. We’d drag the toboggan up the street through people s’ yards careful to pick it up were people had shoveled the snow so it wouldn’t drag on the sidewalk.

Upon arrival the hill was always a hodge-podge of downhill equipment. There would be a few good old fashioned sleds with runners; and you have to watch out for those I once heard about a kid who got his ear sliced off by getting himself run over by one, so we’d identify those right away and vow to stay far away from the front of them. There would be the kids who didn’t have anything but a piece of cardboard or a garbage bag they found, but those kids sometimes went the fastest. There would be the kids with the coveted red plastic saucers, we wanted saucers so bad. They were so sleek and plastic and shiny and red and didn’t require any prep and you could spin around on the way down on them. There would be a few plastic sleds with breaks on either side and there would be us and our Family Toboggan.

The hill would be great; we’d sled for an hour or so until you couldn’t feel your chin and your thighs would be getting wet from the snow finally melting through all your layers. The nice part about a toboggan is it was always your turn, it was always everyone’s turn and sometimes you could even fit on some of the kids who couldn’t get their garbage bag going, on the back with everyone else. I think you could fit about eight kids on ours. You just had to make sure you weren’t in between the legs of someone who might pee on you. You gotta put the pee-kid in front.

Finally with snot and sweat dripping down your face we’d argue with Dad about taking our hats off and then it’s be time to go, but not before the piece de resistance, Dad would surf down the hill standing on the toboggan. We’d gather up as he’d scope out where the cleanest snow was far away from the jumps and ice runs us kids adored. He’d put the toboggan reigns in his hands and stand sideways and we’d “Oooh” and “Ahhh” as he’d artfully surf his way down. Then we’d all clap and hoot and holler and start the slog home while rehashing every run, deciding wich was the best. At home we’d peel all the wet clothes off and sit in front of the wood burner in our long underwear sipping the hot chocolate Mom made. I don’t think I’ve had a hot chocolate like that since, but I’m going to give it a try this year. We have a great sledding hill just four blocks away.

Maybe We Should've Named Her Smart Alec

Conversation at the ice cream station yesterday

Codger: Is your name Billy? Hi Billy.

Ella: No my name is Ella!

Codger: Oh! I thought you were Billy.

Ella: No I’m just Ella…. Mom?

Me: You can tell him to stop teasing you.

Ella: Stop teasing me.

Duffer: Well, I thought you were Billy too; you say it’s Ella huh?

Ella: YES! I’m a little girl of Ella and my names is Ella.

Duffer: Well, how is that spelled, maybe if you spell it for me I could remember it

Codger: Yeah, how DO you spell “Ella”?

Ella: With letters!

Illinois (D)

It’s a good day to be a Democrat in IL.
We kept the Governor’s Mansion, the Attorney General’s office, Secretary of State’s office and Comptroller’s office and took the Treasurer’s office. Our own county picked up at least one board seat and retained our Sheriff with 67%. We have two great Senators here, you may have heard of them – Barack Obama and Dick Durbin. Oh, did I mention the sun is shining today and it’s going to be 70°.

jokester won’t be expelled

Here's the follow up article to the story I worote about on Saturday. It looks like the school has calmed down but the Winnebago County state’s attorney’s office is still deciding what to do if anything. Go ahead drop Paul Logli a line statesattorney@co.winnebago.il.us

Local News: SchoolsBomb jokester won’t be expelled
By Sadie Gurman
ROCKFORD REGISTER STAR

"ROCKTON — A Hononegah High School junior who joked in an online conversation that another student looked “weird enough to bring a bomb the school” no longer faces expulsion, the student’s grandfather, Jim Boyer, said Monday.Noah Boyer, 16, was arrested for disorderly conduct for the Oct. 24 conversation with a friend, which took place over AOL Instant Messenger. An expulsion hearing was slated for 1 p.m. Monday but was canceled Monday morning when a group of school administrators, teachers and staff decided it should not be held, Jim Boyer said.Noah Boyer, who declined to comment, will return to school today after nine days of suspension, Jim Boyer said.

...School officials decided not to expel Noah after his teachers rallied around him, he said.“The teachers really went to bat for him,” Jim Boyer said. “They were all in support of him and his work this year. I think that helped.”

...Rockton police learned of the Internet chat as it was unfolding, and arrested Noah Boyer for disorderly conduct. He still faces a criminal charge, as the Winnebago County state’s attorney’s office decides whether Boyer’s case deserves a formal court trial, assistant state’s attorney Pamela Wells said. Alternatives to a formal trial could include public service, probation, counseling or a number of other services, Wells said. "

Quick Monday

Hello bloggies, I've got to be quick this morning, so much to do this week and today is full.

Practice was wonderful last night though I'm a little stiff in the lower back this morning. Two women went down pretty hard during jams, I think they'll be ok but ice was needed. Though we are thankful for a practice place it kinda stinks that it's cement. It's extra slidey and so you have to temper your speed while fending off hips and shoulders from all directions. I haven't taken a good hard fall yet but I have been swung into the bingo tables that line the room. Not quite as bad as Bubbles the Brawler slidding into the bingo machine sending balls flying accross the floor but equally scary.

Thought Police in Illinois

Imagine you are sitting in class and you lean over to your friend and say “Wow, that guy looks weird... Weird enough to bomb the school.” And your friend says “You should tell someone about that guy?” and you reply “It’s a joke dude, he just looked weird”. Perhaps a teacher overhears part of the conversation, takes it seriously enough to call the police and make a big deal. Should you be suspended from school? Should you be arrested for initiating of a false bomb threat? Who is at fault? Does blame need to actually be placed?

Now imagine the conversation takes place via IM from your own home while playing Halo with your pal and your pal mentions it to her mom who freaks out and calls the police. The police come to your home, seize your computer, the school is called, and a big deal made. Should you be suspended from school? How about expelled? Or arrested for initiating of a false bomb threat, disorderly conduct? Who is at fault? Is there any blame or is it just a simple misunderstanding?

***

Published: November 3, 2006
Bomb joke may bring expulsion
A Hononegah junior also faces a criminal charge in the incident.
By Sadie Gurman
ROCKFORD REGISTER STAR

"During an Oct. 24 online conversation, Boyer, a junior at Hononegah High School, joked to a friend that another student looked “weird enough to bomb the school.”...

...The transcript of one conversation, provided to the Register Star by Boyer, reads “there is no bomb.” The chat took place over the networking program AOL Instant Messenger. “i was messing around.”...

Friend: anywho, did you tell someone about that guy?
Boyer: lol no
Friend: ... do it
Friend: whats his name?
Friend: Noah
Friend: whats his name?
Boyer: nvm it a joke dude he looked weird

…“I didn’t really do anything,” Boyer, 16, said. “I didn’t threaten the school. I didn’t purposefully try to scare anyone.”

The incident marks a new frontier in school safety, one in which school officials take any suspicious comment — even a joke made over the Internet — seriously, Rockton Police Chief Stephen Dickson said.

Boyer said his expulsion hearing is scheduled for 1 p.m. Monday. Hononegah administrators said they could not confirm the hearing and declined to comment on the incident. “It’s a student matter, and we cannot discuss it in public at all,” Associate Principal Ehren Jarrett said Thursday. “It’s a student privacy issue.”

Boyer was arrested for disorderly conduct, which happens whenever “a person does any act in such an unreasonable manner that they alarm or disturb another and provoke a breach of the peace,” said Pamela Wells, assistant state’s attorney for Winnebago County..."

***

What is happening here? Am I the only one who thinks the person that made the call to the police is at fault? If I say “Johnny Depp is good enough to eat” and you call the police and say I play to murder him then you are the dangerous idiot not me. While I believe any and all threats made at school should be taken seriously, the kid didn’t shout “He’s got a bomb!” in the middle of an assembly; he cracked a smart ass joke on the internet followed by “Dude I was just kidding.” It’s an outrage that the kid faces a conviction and possible expulsion, an absolute outrage. I find the measures taken by the authorities to be a gross overreaction and I feel it directly encroaches on all our civil rights.

***

Stephen Dickson (Chief of Rockton Police) - chief@rockton.ws
Hononegah School Board:
David Kurlinkus (President) (Term expires 2007) - DKurlinkus@aol.com
Kerwood Watts (Vice-President) (Term expires 2007) - watts@firstrockford.com
Tana Vettore (Secretary) (term expires 2009) - napactr@charter.net
Sandy Fordell (term expires 2009) - fordrock5@charter.net
Diane LaForge (term expires 2009) - d2jj@hotmail.com
Scott Moyer (term expires 2009) - scott.moyer@hs.utc.com
Bob Zoeller (Term expires 2007) bob.zoeller@charter.net

Planarity

I am soo addicted to this game. I made it to level 11 the other night and worked on it for far too long. It's like untying knotted shoe laces only more so. It's so simple and so addictive.

www.planarity.net

A Present

Ella puts her hand out towards me in an effort to hand me something. I reach for it and she says "I have a booger, my nose spit it out. Here."

Slush

Thus begins the long slog through winter. We’ll have days and days of rain and slush from the sky and perhaps even a little snow that may stick before the New Year. The span above will turn a permanent grey and we will scrunch up and scowl every time we step outside in an effort to keep warm. My knuckles will chap after doing dishes and Ella’s cheeks will turn bright red with dryness and she will cry when I try to smear coco butter across her face. We’ll turn the heat down to 68° we’ll wear itchy wool sweaters and turn on the space heater before each bath. The dog will refuse to go out a pee on really cold slushy days and just do it on the deck creating little yellow ice patches close to the corner that I will want to hose off - but wont (gross). Can you tell this is by far not my favorite part of the year? I’d much prefer lying on the sandy beach at Pearl Lake sipping beer while Ella splashes spring water on her knees. So, I feel a list is needed.

Things I am looking forward to:

1. Turkey and stuffing
2. My first roller derby bout
3. Winter Solstice
4. The holidays
5. Ella’s birthday
6. Valentines Day
7. Another trip to Vegas?
8. Art gala/benefit for the library
9. St. Patrick’s Day
10. SPRING

Three Brains

“Dude, there is a brain in your driveway! I was out there smoking and I walked out to the road and I swear to God there is a full brain extracted from the head of something in your driveway!”

“Ha ha, really funny. Did you think that was going to scare me or something?”

“Dude I wouldn’t sh*t you about this – there is a BRRAINNN in your driveway! Come and look at it”

“Alright, let me get my shoes on.”

…

“What is that?”

“It’s a brain, I told you! Is someone mad enough at you to throw a fetal pig brain in your driveway? Or maybe it’s from a dead raccoon.”

“What? You think someone cut the brain out of a dead raccoon and threw it in my driveway? ... No, it wouldn’t be big enough. That brain came from something bigger.”

“If it’s fresh shouldn’t it be bloody?”

“It rained like crazy this morning; it would’ve washed it clean so there’s no way to know.”

“Dude! See – it is a brain isn’t it! How did you get a brain in your driveway?”

“That can’t be what it is, let’s look at it closer. Get a stick”

“I’m not going to poke it with a stick! Gross! ”

“That’s ok, I found one, I’ll poke it.”

“Dude, don’t lean so close! What if it…”

“What jumps onto my head and bites me? Yeah right, in the middle of the day in my driveway a human brain gets loose and bites me on the neck.”

“Where would someone get a human brain?... Maybe we should call the police?”

“Hell na! Do you remember the scarecrow incident?! Let’s poke it first”

…

“It’s mushy.”

“I think I’m going to puke”

“The stick poked right into it and brain juice came out.”

“Siiiick. Don't poke it anymore!”

“How in the F* did I get a brain in my driveway? What do we do with it?”

“Well, you can’t just put it in Tuesday’s trash.”

“Let’s ask my mom, she’s going to be home pretty soon”

“We have to wait for her or she’ll run it over with her car.”

…

“Mom! Stop the car! Don’t pull in you gotta see this!”

“Why are you kids standing around the rice cake I dropped this morning? My, oh- my, those really swell up when they get rained on…”















Happy Halloween!

Go see what we were for Halloween at TaterTot's Thoughts today.

Sixteen Years Ago Today

“Karla! I think you should go around the block, I just saw someone in the ditch.”

“What do you mean you saw someone in the ditch?! Like waiting to jump out?”

“No, I mean I saw someone lying in the ditch, like it looked like their leg was all twisted up. Oh. My. God. Someone just got hit by a car and their lying in the ditch! You have to go around the block!”

The car circles the block while five teenage girls search out the window in silence.

“OhmyGod! Someone IS in the ditch!”

“Oh their leg looks bent at a BAD angle, that’s not good.”

“Ohmygod,Ohmygod,Ohmygod,Ohmygod, what do I do? Should we stop?”

“Yeah, let’s stop and see if their ok…”

“What if it’s a prank and someone jumps out at us?”

“OhmyGod, OhmyGod what if their DEAD?!”

“AAAAAH! Don’t stop! Let’s go back to my house and call 911!”

“AHHHH!”

“Eeeeeeeeek!”

“Ug Ick Groooooosse!”

“Ok, let’s go back to your house and tell your mom and call 911”

After much frantic yelling and one concerned call to 911 the girls get back in the car and drive up the street to see what the police find. The street is filled with at least three police cars and as they pull up to the crime scene a police officer walks up to their window. Karla rolls it down and they all lean over to hear what's happening.

“Are you the girls that called this in?”

“Yes sir. Is it bad?”

“You know you girls can get into a lot of trouble for this.”

“OhmyGod Officer we didn’t hit anyone! Are they dead?!”

“We’re going to jail! They think we killed someone!”

“Oh No ~whimper~”

"I swear we didn't hit anyone! I can't go to jail! OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod"

"Listen ladies, we don’t like false reports and you girls probably think it's pretty funny but it costs the taxpayers alot of money when somone pulls a stunt like this, do you understand?"

"huh?"

"Karla, it's a scarecrow... look over there, he's holding it up... it's a scarecrow!"

"We'll let you off this time, but don't you girls go pulling anything like this again ok?"

North Second Street

When you’re a kid and creepy things hit the news where you live you file them away under ‘Proof of the Supernatural’ in your brain and you only open that file once in a while when your sitting around a campfire with close friends or blogging for Halloween. When I was young I filled my file cabinet with stories from the occult. This was during the time of the PMRC and the kid who killed himself after listening to Judas Priest, heavy metal hair bands wore pentagrams on their belt buckles and parents everywhere were ‘concerned’ that Twisted Sister was twisting our sisters.

At the all night skates inevitably we would end up huddled up in our sleeping bags in the middle of the skating rink hearing stories that “I swear to God are true, it happened to my sister’s boyfriend’s cousin…” Around this time, the local news broke a story too gruesome to ignore. A senior at a local high school killed his best friend in some sort of ritualistic occult-like slaughter. If I remember correctly he beheaded him and then hid the body and head under his bed. His dad found the body, upon which the son killed his father and shortly after committed suicide. We talked about it for months around campfires, at parties and at the skating rink surmising the motive and circumstances regarding the deaths, and wondered at the connections to rumors about ritualistic animal killings at a local and close state park or Witch Beulah, or Bloods Point Cemetery. Over the years it all kind of faded away into the microfesh of the brain.

It turns out a house like that is hard to sell after such an incident, they tend to go pretty cheap if at all because they have to disclose the murder. Everyone knew the house and the story and so it went until years later long after we had all stopped talking and people quit driving by a divorced mother of three boys moved to the area to be closer to the son that lived with his Dad. The realtor informed her people died in the house but she didn’t seem to mind. It was cute and cheap so she bought it. Soon she and her youngest son started to hear things in the middle of the night: bumps, pounding, stomping across floors and slamming doors. Her boyfriend, a retired police officer moved in and he installed locks and motion activated lights and soon no body was getting any sleep.

Amidst all the uproar happening in the night the woman’s middle son Brian asked to move in with her – it seemed he was uncomfortable sleeping at his Father’s house, something about rumors or whispers in the middle of the night. Yes, you read that right, Brian’s mother was the woman that bought the house. Poor guy couldn’t get away from it. While he was having problems at his Dad’s house with creepy whisperings and glowing green orbs, across the river over at his mother’s house his little brother was waking up to doors slamming and stomping through the halls. Twice his mother’s boyfriend called the police about the stomping and pounding but when the police could find no one and no point of entry they stopped reporting it.

While there, his little brother had a freak accident with a jungle-gym of all harmless things. He was hanging by his arms when the pipe broke and fell on his face, half his skull crushed inward breaking his eye socket and check bone. He underwent reconstructive surgeries and was never quite the happy silly kid I remembered. The family was mired in bad luck while they lived in those houses; divorces, car accidents, quarrels, miscarriages, dead pets, and in general restlessness and ire. Of course all of those things happen in day to day living especially when with teenagers in the house but it felt excessive for such a normal bunch of people to endure.

Please pardon Blogger is having trouble today

Old River Road

Brian’s parents had bought the house cheap. They were the first one’s to live there after the murders. It had a beautiful kitchen with and island and breakfast nook, five bedrooms, an office, a three car garage and finished basement, a great room, a giant deck and two acres that backed up onto a fishing pond. We used to tease Brian because his parent could never pass up a deal, they bought generic toilet paper and there was never anything good to eat at his house beyond Ramen Noodles and often Brian had irregular winter coats with a zipper that wouldn’t zip or a bleach mark on the sleeve. Our families didn’t have that much money but Brian’s parents were the cheapest rich folks we ever heard of so Brian fit right in with us.

Every Christmas Brian’s parents would go to the Bahamas and leave him and his three sisters home in the big house alone. The Bahamas are cheap over Christmas and they figured the kids were old enough that they wouldn’t mind celebrating in January instead. It made me a little sad for them and I think it made them a little sad too because in retaliation every Christmas they would throw a giant party while their parents were gone. Two full high schools would attend Harlem and Auburn. One year it was so big the police stopped to see what was happening and when we told them it was a wedding reception they helped us direct traffic a little so we could park more cars. Technically it wasn’t a lie, Troy and his girlfriend had gotten married at the court house earlier that day and we had bought a cake but most of the attendees had no idea of the nuptials they were just in attendance to “par-tay”.

After the party there would always be some stragglers who wouldn’t leave. Brian would tell them about the house giving them the full tour. He’d always start with the history and how the boyfriend flipped out and tied up the entire family and beat them to death and then shot them for good measure. He’d move on to how the crazed murderer boyfriend went on living in the back woods hiding out from the police until he ran out of cocaine and committed suicide. Then he would wrap it up standing in the great room where he would point dramatically upwards towards the blood spatters that had sunk deep into the wood ceiling.

Brian’s parents were so cheap that when they discovered the blood on the ceiling in the great room instead of replacing the wood beams they sprayed a little Windex on it and resigned themselves to not talk abut the stains. Well, you can’t give a seventeen year old boy with a preoccupation for gross a better exhibit. Inevitably whenever Brian would end the tour with the grand sweep of his arm pointing upward the remaining party guests would make hasty goodbyes. The night of Troy’s reception went down just like that. Brian had chased the unknowns out of the house with the grizzly tour leaving Troy, Troy’s new wife, John, Shawn, Brian and myself sitting around the kitchen table playing cards and drinking beer.

I sat at the head of the table with the door to the great room on my right and the rest of the kitchen and the door to the basement to my left. As I dealt another hand of Five Card, I heard whispers float around me calling my name over and over “Jenny, jennY, jeNNy, jeNNY, JEnny, jenny, Jenny!” They seemed to start on my right and float right behind me and then end in my left ear. I must’ve looked quite startled because Shawn looked right at me and said

“Did you hear that too?”

My reply was “What! What did YOU hear?”

What he said made my eyes water

“I heard someone calling my name in a whisper like ‘ShawN, SHAWn, shawn, shaWN, SHhhawn, ShAWN!’ right there in the great room and then towards the basement door”.

The rest of the table busted up laughing. Really hard. At us. Shawn got mad and threw his cards down while I changed chairs. John stood up and checked the fridge for more beer, I tensed up as he walked towards the whisper but felt a little relieved someone was going to make sure there wasn’t one last unknown party-goer messing with us. When John went to the basement to retrieve more beer from the bar, I felt a little scarred for him and said

“Shouldn’t someone go with him?” only to be met with more laughter.

All I could think was "This is how the movie starts!" Moments later John was standing at the top of the stars having run back up them three at a time. His face and lips white as can be, all the blood must've gone to his legs to get him up the stairs that fast. Without a word he walked straight out onto the front porch and got his keys out of his pocket before we could discern what happened was this:

He went to the rec room and walked around the pool table towards the bar to get an armload of beer. Before he leaned down to open the mini-fridge he caught a glimpse of the mirror behind the bar and the reflection of a drunk guy standing behind him. John turned around to tell the guy the party was over to find an empty room behind him. He didn’t wait to take a second look in the mirror he just flew up the stairs back towards the sound of our voices. No one laughed at him, he looked too shaky to be laughed at. Someone said “maybe we should go check out the basement”. No body did and those that stayed slept in the great room together that night.

“The Tour” was rarely given after that night and we all felt a little bad for Brian living in that house. We continued to share stories about the whispers we heard in the house and when Brian’s puppy died in a mysterious freak accident involving a plastic bag when nobody was home, we started to suggest he move in with his mom. His mother lived across the river in an equally creepy house but that story is for another day.

The Ol' Jailhouse Downtown

When I was maybe seven I begged my Mom to bring me to the JCs haunted jailhouse downtown. It was an actual abandoned jailhouse and I imagined real ghosts creaking and squeaking around corners scaring the wits out of us all as we tiptoed through. What I witnessed was far more terrifying; ghouls with blood dripping off their hanging flesh rattled the jail house bars with their limbs stretching out and tearing at our clothes all the while wailing to be let go the jailer lashing at them with a cat-o-nine tails from the back of the cell, just inches from my hidden face. Possessed women with hair like seaweed snorted and snarled through their mangled mouths threatening to send evil spirits straight after me if I stared too long as Mom carried me past their green puke filled chambers. Long dark twisting corridors ambled through unknown realms seemingly endless in their terror inducing fervor as I walked sharing the insides of Mom’s coat clutching hold of her with every cell in my body. Finally we emerged out into the warm glow of the street lights and my exhausted Mom peeled me off of her and set my terrified body into the backseat of the car. I begged to go again every year until it closed.

Handsome Jack

Dear Great Pumpkin,
This year I won’t be able to sit in a pumpkin patch and wait for you I have to take my daughter trick or treating, but should you roll past my house and decide I have the best looking jack-o-lanterns please leave me a dozen roses, a box of chocolates, a dishwasher, some new head phones, cute fuzzy knee-high boots, a Beastie Boys CD (“Check Your Head”), a new garbage disposal, some warm socks, toe guards for my skates, a giant planter for my Dracaena-Fragrans and a new pair of jeans that make my butt look great.
Love,
Bombadee

That Other Time I Almost Died

The tree outside our window is finally bare the leaves torn off through many nights of cold winds. It stands out there looking lonely with its only inhabitant a widower squirrel. The tree had a matching companion that was here when we moved in and then gone after one particularly violent summer storm. Half of it fell into our yard and ripped the electrical line down to the ground. We weren’t home when it happened. Dan was picking me up from a hospital in Chicago. I had been working in Addison and the company I was consulting for had rented a hotel for me in Villa Park.

I was on my second month getting the office turned around and had grown pretty comfortable working there. On this particular Friday I was experiencing what I thought was the same old pain I always had when my ovarian cysts acted up. I’d had them for years in fact they once almost took my appendix out because of my pain. Frequent trips to the emergency room in the middle of the night often resulted in being sent home with Tylenol and a heating pad so most times I'd opt to forgo the emergency room co-pay and instead writh around on the floor of my own bathroom for a couple of hours instead.

I decided that when my shift was over I would just spend the weekend in the city instead of the long drive home. Dan was in Baltimore for the weekend and Dave (our neighbor) would take care up the pups and so there was no reason I couldn’t just go lay down at my hotel and sleep through the pain in my side. While waiting for the end of the shift the hours seemed to drag by and the employees kept asking if I was ok and telling me I didn’t look so good. Finally one young man, Joe K. said “That’s it Jenny I’m taking you to the hospital”. I refused and told him I was going to just go lay down at my hotel and he said “No way let’s go”. I could barely stand up. He and Joe M. carried me to his car.

This was all very fitting for the young rebel Joe K. was only 17 and often in trouble at work for not listening or showing up late. I’d thought about firing him but damn if he wasn’t a charming salesman and always making quota. He put me in the front seat and started his powder blue ’67 Chevy; I curled up into a ball with my sweaty head near his leg. He kept sweeping my soaked hair off of my face and asking “Are you sure you’re doing ok?” and for the first half of the ride I was annoyed with his questioning and the second half I was screaming for him to drive faster. When we reached the emergency room he intended to park his powder blue baby but instead slid up to the outside the doors leaving the car idiling keys in it with the passenger side open while he ran in and yelled for someone to come and help. I was drenched in sweat and shaking – my appendix was inflamed and ready to kill me.

Good ol’ Joe paced the hall until my Mom drove in and sent him home. He sent flowers and a little stuffed leopard to the hospital. Poor Dan was greeted on Sunday at O’Hare airport by my Mom and the harrowing story. Shortly after that I quit my job to find something closer to home and family. The tree in my side yard is still gone like my appendix and today I wonder what Joe is doing.

Oil Can, Oil Caaaaan...

Good morning Dear Bloggies. I am moving a little slow today as my joints creak around does anyone have an oil can? Last night was the first night I was able to make it to Derby practice at our new indoor place. What’s the difference between that and the skating rink? Well at the skating rink we have to play nice because there are usually new recruits and little kids rolling about. At the new place it’s just us. We get there and tediously take down all the tables and chairs from BINGO, sweep the floor, suit up and then the fun begins. And by fun I mean skating full speed into each other and then sliding across the cement floor. It was awesome! We practiced falling and hip checks and shoulder checks and sprints and I even slid into a table with the captain of the other team. As she tumbled in front of me I went head over her ribs, we both went into the table and someone’s poorly laid cola went on the floor. It made a wonderful crash and our two teams cheered and howled. This controlled crashing went on for two hours before we stretched and re-setup all the tables and chairs so the little old ladies can come in tomorrow and wait for them to call B-17 in between puffs of Camel light.

Rowdy

Oh my God! If you want to have a freaking great night out… bring 35 derby girls. I can’t even begin to tell you about the mayhem that took place but I can tell you we had over 400 people in attendance and I ran into people from grade school. Grade School! Yeah, it was a little awkward – “Hi, yeah I totally remember you from 3rd grade… Oh, no I really don’t dress like this all the time…” and then inevitably I would feel the need to explain that I went to college and have a husband and a baby at home. I really have to get the hang of staying in character. There were about a thousand pictures taken and I think even some autographs. At the end of the night there was an impromptu Derby Sung rendition of “Sweet Emotion” with the last band. We jumped on and off the stage and danced and spun and yelled out the chorus while the fearless co-captain of the Demolition Dolls sang the lyrics and pointed out into the crowd. - NICE!

Crazy Socks!

Roller Derby

The video is of the Gotham Girls Roller Derby in NY (It’s how I got this to post this morning as Blogger was having problems)

The Rockford Rage is having a fund raiser tonight at a bar called Kryptonite. It’ll be eight bands for $5.00 in case you’re thinking of coming. The team will be there working the door and hanging about looking cool. I will be there looking extremely uncomfortable. I am agonizing over what to wear. We were told “Dress Derby” and for me that means camo-pants, comfy socks and a t-shirt I don’t mind sweating in. Somehow I’m sure that’s not what they mean. I do have some stripey socks and a blue jean mini skirt but I think I’ll have to park a block away and walk through downtown to get there - eek. I could change in the bathroom of the bar, or I could wear nice jeans and my “Derby Girl” tank. I can’t wait until there are uniforms and then the agony of “Dressing Derby” will be gone. Whatever I wear should match with the orange ear plugs I’ll have in my ears (I’m so old).

What's in my Backyard

So we’ve never really gotten along with our neighbors. It started with my Chihuahua slipping his chain and chasing Mrs. Wertz to her back door. Mrs. Wertz is a sturdily built Boy-scout Den-Mother who bikes and hikes and could very possibly play roller derby but when our little eight pound Alijandro got to thinking he was a big dog he’d Houdini that chain and chase her right through the back yard while she shrieked and wailed. Sometimes she’d get a broom and try and whack him with it. I knew this would never do so we saved up and bought a fence. It was the best investment I ever made for us and the dogs but still Mrs. Wertz would kick the fence and shriek “Shut up!” at the barking menace that my dog became.

It didn’t help that he loved this game. Upon opening the door he’d shoot outside like a bullet straight over to the side yard checking for Mrs. Wertz or any family member that might smell like her. The incessant barking would commence until I called him in and if any of the unfortunate neighbors were attempting to enjoy their back yard I would have to walk out into the yard, pick him up bring him back in. She never kicked the fence when I was standing there but sometimes I’d be around the corner watering the garden and I’d hear the chain link rattle all at once because she’d kicked it and I’d fantasize about running around the corner with the hose.

Well since then we had Ella and decided to give little Alijandro to a family with more time to spend with him. He loved to be in your lap which I wouldn’t allow with a fresh faced newborn in my lap. So things have gotten significantly quieter between the neighbors and us. I just can’t help it though every time our remaining dog Wednesday rolls in something gross in our back yard I wonder what Mrs. Wertz threw out there. I know it’s the epitome of paranoid, but I once saw her son throw a brick at my Chihuahua and wouldn’t it be funny to throw a piece of limburger in your neighbor’s back yard so their dog rolled in it and then went in the house and played with the kids and rolled on the couch before your neighbor figured out what that smell was and gave everyone a bath and washed the couch? Yeah – that’d be freaking funny as hell.

Apology

Sometimes I feel like I’m cheating on you bloggies. I don’t often write about what is happening in my emotional life. This type of writing is set aside for the sake of privacy. In light of this decision I sit at my computer a lot of nights wondering what the hell I can write about that won’t portray me as a raving crab-ass or a naïve housewife. There are friends and family far and wide that keep up with the daily goings on of the Garden – but they are only getting half the picture, the proverbial front lawn and I refuse to hang my family’s laundry in the front yard. This makes it especially tough when there’s a lot of laundry to do and not enough time to devote to the front lawn. So dear bloggies I would like to apologize for the overgrown weeds that have happened in the entryway of Bombadee’s Garden (I've been doing laundry) and re-devote to you and me and the Garden. I’m not sure what I’ll grow next and I assure you that our dirty socks look just like everyone else’s and you’d not find amusement in examining them so they’ll just stay on the clothes line in the back yard. But I will try and plant something hearty out front for us all to enjoy.

Perception

Dove - Evolution Commercial (higher quality)

Get your daughters to the computer for this one.

Golden Weekend

On Saturday morning at 3:00 am I awoke, brushed my teeth, put my wet tooth brush into my already packed bags, got dressed made coffee and left to catch my flight to Denver. I met Mom and Aunt M. at the airport and we all checked in and sat around talking until the flight boarded about 6-ish. We landed in Denver, rented a car (PT Cruiser - cool) and drove to the hotel. We checked in stopped and had complimentary breakfast (raisin toast and bagels) and then moseyed to our room to relax for an hour and change for the wedding. I tried to nap but it just wouldn’t happen. We left for the wedding about 11:30 and figured we’d be 15 minutes early and then tried to navigate Denver. Let me say that there Denver has the following streets: Wadsworth Blvd. Wadsworth Pkwy and Wadsworth Bypass all aka HWY 121. Wadsworth also takes several ‘jogs’ or ‘jaunts’ or whatever you’d like to call it when a street ends and then starts up again a block over just to confuse you and cause the driver to say

“I thought you had directions?!”

to which the navigator says “I do, it doesn’t say that the road ends here it just says ‘veer onto Wadsworth Blvd.’!!”

“Do I veer right or left to get to Wadsworth Blvd.?”

“Um – it doesn’t say, I’m going to guess left…. Crap it’s right, we need to head West you’d better whip a u-ie”

“I’ve never whipped a u-ie in my life, is that even legal?”

“Sure, if it weren’t legal they’d post it.”

(first u-ie whipped.)

After 45 minutes, three more u-ies and a clover leaf we finally made it to the wedding. The chapel at Red Rock was gorgeous as was the wedding. It was a picture perfect afternoon for all except my dear cousin’s daughter - poor child. Willow is Ella’s age and upon laying eyes on her she reminded me of Ella so that I wanted to scoop her up and kiss all over her face. Alas she was shy and wanted to hang onto her Mommy’s leg (just like Ella might’ve) and so I waited and bided my time before attempting a scoop. In the interim she stepped on a cactus - ouch. Her Mom and Dad extracted all the needles from her little foot just in time for the start of the ceremony.

I could hardly wait to see my Uncles new wife. I, my Mother, and Aunt C. would be seeing her for the first time as she walked down the aisle and my Aunt M. would be seeing her for only the second time ever so it was all very exciting. The woman playing piano began to sing “Ave Maria” and we Italian Catholics/former Catholics and children of were all brought to tears. It seems this song is played at any important family event taking place at a church.

The little church was packed tight and about half way through the ceremony I heard little Willow let out a terrible wail from outside. It seems she was a little antsy (as two year old sometimes get) and her Mom took her outside to run around until the wedding concluded when she took a spill and cracked her head open spilling blood all down her darling little pink party dress. She took three stitches and a big Dora band aid at the hospital later, so I never did get to know her well enough to scoop her up and kiss her all over her face. I plan to go back and visit my dear cousins and next time I’ll bring my family so we can let the girls play tea party and babies and perhaps then I can attempt a snuggle.

We drove to Golden next, about a half an hour and two u-ies away from Morrison (were the wedding was) were we proceeded with all the wonderful traditions that go with a wedding – food and wine, balloons and cake and dancing. Perhaps the funniest thing that happened all weekend came at the tail end of this reception. We were all standing outside waiting to make a wish and let dozens of balloons go up into the atmosphere in honor of the newly wedded couple when my dear cousin A. said “oh look it’s snowing” and hastily stuck her tongue out to catch dainty flakes wafting about before realizing they were actually a swarm of tiny gnats and when I saw the brother of the bride do the same not 10 feet away from me I really thought I would pee my pants laughing. I tried to take a picture of the giant gnat cloud but it just didn’t work. (Sorry A. I just couldn’t resist telling that story)

The rest of the weekend was spent shopping, hearing music, drinking and dining with relatives (and perhaps a dozen more u-ies) before we made our way back to IL on Sunday evening where Ella and Dan had a grand time buying toys, eating cookies and watching movies all weekend. I did get the chance to have lunch with Willow before I left and she was much happier than the day before as you can imagine. I can hardly wait to get back there.

Home

Hey Bloggies! I made it home in one piece. My trip was super super fun and I plan to blog all about it when I get a chance to sit and write for a bit. I just wanted to let you all know all was well and stay tuned for "What to do in Denver When You're... With Your Mom" aka "Whip a You-ey"

Whirlwind

So I am off to Colorado this morning without Dan and Ella. Mom and I and my aunts are going to my Uncle’s wedding. He lives in IL but is marring a lady from CO and they’ll move back here after the wedding. Mom and I are renting a car and sharing a hotel room and then flying back on Sunday night. It’ll be a whirlwind of family and snow and fun. I am packing a single dress, a change of clothes and a book. I will check nothing and have but one small overnight bag to drag on the plane. If we get snowed in I’ll have to buy clothes to wear.

Happy Birthday to my brother Andy!

North Atlantic Mermaid

I think we're going to go Halloween shopping next Wed. I already bought Ella an Ariel dress and she tried it on twice. Once when I brought it home and once again this morning. She flopped around on the floor exclaiming "I'm a mermaid look at my pretty sparkly green tail when I swim" - flop flop. I will have to find an outfit for her to wear undeneath that flimsy little dress because Halloween in Illinois is COLD and mermaids don't have legs to wrestle into a snow suit. So we'll layer sweat pants over tights under her tail and put a wool sweater under the dress and I'm working on a "Mermaid hat" with shells and seaweed on it. She'll just have to be a North Atlantic mermaid.

A Woman Obsessed

We watched “Flyboys” last night during our return to the much anticipated date night. My history-ignorant self and my highly knowledgeable husband whispered the following conversation over popcorn.

Me: Why does that plane have a banner on it?
Him: It makes him squadron leader.
Me: And that means… what?
Him: He flies in the front and makes the decisions about where to go, he leads them. Incidentally, it also tells the German’s who to take down first.
Me: Oh, so he’s like the pivot.
Him: ~sigh~

Later…

Me: So with all that shooting, that reminds me one of our Derby girls once got shot. I heard she was on the job when it happened... (endless rambling about how tough we are)

Later yet…

Husband on the other end of the phone 30 miles away: I have your keys
Me: What do you want to do… drive back?
Husband: Borrow your Mom’s car and then we can switch around tomorrow
Me: Ok, but I have practice. I better not miss practice. I'll get my gear and bring it home in Mom's car just in case.
Husband: Good idea, don’t forget Ella too.

Derby News!

Our first exhibition bout is scheduled! I am soo excited. It'll be December 2nd 2006 at the Indoor Sports Center in Loves Park. Doors open at 1:00 and the cost is 12.00 at the door. It's all ages so you can bring the kids but there will be beer and yelling too. I suppose it's just like any other sporting event, only with fishnets and lipstick (or in my case stripey tights and Carmex). The other news, I'm no longer a Screw City Slammer, I've been traded to the Demolition Dolls! Great group of gals on each team but the Demo Dolls are going to kick some Screw City Slammer bootay. There's a third team now too the Midwest Maulers and they should also beware. If you live close and plan to come to our bout, put on some orange and black and white so that we know you when we see you.

Morning Rituals

Ella got up this morning and instead of watching her usual shows took her milk into the library where she sat down at her computer clicked on the hello kitty icon on her desk top and proceeded to surf Hello Kitty type videos on You Tube. I can see everything she’s doing from my computer but I still think I think I need to install some kind of filter today. Mom and I had a discussion some time ago about the fate of my child’s handwriting. We think it’ll be bad. She will be able to type 4000 words a minute by the time she’s 4 but won’t be able to form a decent ‘w’. She’ll be starting her first blog before she can tie her own shoe.

1-1-1-189-1-2-2-3-12

1 blacksmith 1 cell phone, 1 wand
















189 stairs down to the river and back, 1 statue of Chief Blackhawk








































2 parade watchers

2 going 3 miles on 12 wheels

Screw City Slammers

We are off to do fall type things today so I've very little time to post. News: I've been placed on my new derby team. I am a proud skater on the Screw City Slammers! Woohoo!

The Search is On

Only 22 days left until The Annual Halloween Party we attend. Costumes are mandatory, there are prizes for best costume and lewdness helps. I must remind myself any costume that could be mistaken for a Fredrick’s of Hollywood gear just isn’t as fun as you’d think while standing around a bonfire shivering your knockers off. Last year the two of us donned red union suits, red gloves and blue wigs and went as Thing One and Thing Two. It was warmer than being Daisy Duke but still chilly and I drank to keep myself toasty resulting in my stuffing Dan’s wig down the front of my union suit and extracting a lock of blue hair through the fly ON CAMERA* to prove the rug matched the drapes so to speak. Not really a stellar moment for me but funny as heck. Just a shame it all happened after everyone voted for their favorite costumes or I like to think I might’ve won.

The search for the perfect award winning witty costume has begun. Though we have something in mind, suggestions are most welcomed.





















*No I am not posting it - it's lewd.

Up to Here

Ok, ok I’ll probably not be chucking the TV. It just goes to show how I can be just like Grandpa Bombadee when I get into a snit. That’d actually be a lot of chucking. We have a lot of TVs and some of our computers double as TVs. I do believe there may have been a time where Grandpa Bombadee chucked a TV out the front door. In fact he was fond of chucking things out the door for dramatic effect. There were some forehead height kitchen cupboards he sledge hammered and chucked out the front doors, several toasters that burned toast, a cordless phone or two, a porcelain toilet and maybe even an occasional teenage boy. I believe each chucking started out the exact same way, with my father having had it up to “here” and then the forcible removal of offending item whilst waxing obscenities and the rest of the family standing helplessly in he next room either trying not to cry or trying not to bust out laughing depending on if it was another toaster or one’s teenage boyfriend/greatest love of their life getting chucked. Once something was chucked it never came back. It’s a good thing too because sometimes my Dad knew better than anyone else when something was broken. Dad’s are good at that.

Disney and North Korea on The List

Yeah I missed a day. So sue me, I got stuff going on ok?! (besides technically it's still today) Mark your calendar I’m in a bad mood. No reason in particular, just that North Korea has their heads up their arses, there’s been 21 American Soldier deaths in Iraq since October 1st, Congressmen now think it’ ok to hit on 16 year olds and there’s a lot going at the Bombadee Estate including one toddler with a fever who is subsisting on four Pringles and one chewed up and spit out grape. Also, who decided that a story about a sixteen year old mermaid who yearns so for a kiss from some hunk that she disobeys her father, cohorts with a witch and signs contract bargaining her soul was a good story to tell little girls?! If that all wasn’t bad enough for you it has a happy ending in which her Father gives in to the teenage daughter because she cries. So much for college or even finishing high school or turning 17 or listening to your dad, I guess it’s ok if you really really love him even if you don’t know anything about him accept he’s rich and handsome. Did I mention Ella wants to be a mermaid for Halloween with pretty red hair and a splarklie green tail? After this cold is gone I’m chucking the TV.

Heavy

Mr. B.: This book is heavy
Me: Oh? What are you reading?
Mr. B.: No, I mean it's literally heavy. It's like ten pounds.

What am I currently reading? Uncle Tom's Cabin, Flowers for Algernon, Mirror Mirror, and Son of a Witch are all in cue but currently I'm reading this week's People Magazine (not very heavy).

I am also however reading The Calm Before the Storm. Milo Freeman's live account of being a soldier in Iraq. Milo is a wonderful writer and if you have the inclination to add a new blog to your roll I highly suggest Milo's. This is also a perfect time to start reading, as Chapter II The Sand has just begun. Once you're hooked you can track back through Milo's prose interspersed with poignant verse for months as he's kept this blog since March 2006.

Keep safe, Milo and write often we'll be anticipating each entry until you are home.

"Monday, October 02, 2006

The Sand
From the air at night, Kuwait City looks like a carpet of topaz against the black veil of the Persian Gulf. Looking closely, one can see palm trees lining every street and highway, and with office towers spearing the nighttime horizon with their light, it's clear to see that this is a bustling city, home to many successful people

The first thing that most people talk about when describing the Middle East is the heat. Descriptions fail it. The air descends on a person like a heavy blanket, from the moment one steps off of the tarmac. The wind smells like scorched figs. From Kuwait City into the outlying areas, the terrain is primarily sagebrush and low ficus, but a few hours west and the terrain quickly shifts to barren desert hardpan. I've never been in the desert before, and so the sheer quantity of NOTHING strikes me mute.

I've been in Kuwait for about a week..."

Lard

Oh hedonist thy name is Bombadee. Dan went over to his friend Jeff’s house to play war games on Saturday night. Ella and I decided to stay home and instead of having a regular evening we dressed up in sparkly clothes, watched cartoons two feet in front of the TV and ate Oreo cookie frosting and the middle of the crème puffs until our mouths were coated with a glossy layer of sugary fat. When we burped little clouds of powdered sugar puffed outwards, and even my dog rubbed her belly with much regret at the end of the night. And to think Dan missed it.

Jealous

Ella is no longer a baby; I guess she really hasn’t been for a long time as she’s almost three. She is still in diapers and all that but the threshold into kid-hood for me was her ability to reason and express that train of thought and so now we have arguments. She still throws herself on the ground and kicks her feet in protest but before that whole desperate process starts she says things like “I don’t want to” and “but pleeaaaaase”. Bargaining works too now, yesterday at my husband’s Grandmother’s funeral I was able to seal a deal for sustained silence with a peppermint candy. Whenever she forgot her promise all I would have to whisper “Do you still want that piece of candy?” and she would furiously nod and I would put my finger to my mouth and “shhhh”. I have to admit I love this, not for the begging, arguing and bargaining that is happening but the phrases that blow my mind; “It’s easy for towels to live in the closet because the closet is really a house for the laundry.” or “You don’t have to share shoes, just toys and candy but not shoes”.

She also tends to personify everything. I’m not sure if this is from too many talking spoons on Sesame Street or if kids naturally do that. I remember doing it when I was a kid. I always had to have two jelly beans in my mouth so the first on wouldn’t feel lonely and I was never mean to chairs and never left knots in my shoes because who wants to wake up in the morning with knots in their hair so maybe it’s genetic. Every one of my stuffed animals had a name and if you showed them to me today I could tell them to you, although Ella names all her babies the same name. Like when Ramona Quimby thought “Chevrolet” was the prettiest name ever, my Ella loves the name “Jealous”. You can often hear her in the corner of her playroom cooing “C’mere baby Jealous I will read you this book, don’t cry”. If you ask her what her giraffe’s name is she’ll tell you “Jealous” and her monkey? “Jealous”. And her bear? “Jealous”. Little ol’ ladies who ask and get the response “Jealous” often think they heard her wrong and reply to her “That’s a wonderful name” while simultaneously looking at me to explain. I gave up trying to explain with “Jell-us she names her babies Jell-us because she thinks it’s a pretty sounding word.” It doesn’t seem to clear anything up for minds expecting to hear “Janie she’s trying to say Janie” so now, I just smile and shrug.

Back on Sat

Went to a funeral.

What Would Your Neighbors Say?

The neighbors and I have had dueling remotes for about a month now. I live on the corner so I’m not sure which of our three neighbors it is, but I do know they like to watch the Tyra Banks show on Oxygen, Dog the Bounty Hunter and sometimes Three’s Company. At first I was annoyed but now I let the channel stealer meander hoping they will pick something that will be telling about their personality so I can figure out who it is. Last week at the usual 10pm the neighbor decided to watch “The Secret Lives of Women: Swingers” - eep! I wonder what they think of me insisting on the Daily Show for both of us nightly as our radio signals tug the channels to and fro.

Mr. Bombadee's Debut (He's the Guy Kissing Me)

half humor and half romantic

We flew in on Thursday afternoon and when we arrived at the house it was stunning and there was even beer in the fridge. Thursday evening was spent grocery shopping and hanging around the pool whilst some of the party saw Celine Dion which was described as “Everything, just everything from the singing to the special effects and the dancing and the wardrobe it was just everything you expected”. The house did have a few problems but I wonder if they are the same problems that we would find staying in any strange house. It took time to figure out which lights turned what on and the wireless internet wasn’t exactly accessible enough for me to blog. The pool wasn’t warm until the second day and the shower in the pool house only had cold water (eek!). Oh I know it’s like complaining the caviar is too salty, we should all have it so hard. Although the view was incredible next time we’ll get something closer to the strip.

Friday we slept in and in the afternoon got our fancy duds on in preparation for an Elvis ceremony. It was half humor and half romantic and I almost cried. Well worth it. After we took everyone out for dinner at the Paris were we found everything from crab legs to crepes it was incredible. The rest of the weekend was spent sight seeing and gambling. I ended up winning for the weekend and Dan lost but we never did spend everything we brought so we’re counting that as coming home ahead, anytime you can come back from vacation in Vegas and put money back in the bank its good. My three favorite places? The Peppermill lived up to its swanky reputation as did the buffet at Paris and Ella loved the shark reef at Mandalay Bay.

Photos will follow when blogger is cooperating.

The Slot Machine Ate My Homework

We are home safe and sound and with money in our pockets and a camera full of pictures. We are exhausted from the traveling. "What I did on my Vegas Vacation" will be written after I've gotten some sleep. For now I will leave you with the song Ella sang to me after dinner today:

Won't you play a simple melody,
Like my Mother sang to me,
Like in our grey Las Begas house,
We live in our big white house now,
We have our bites in our frigerator,
I ate peanut butter and I like spicy chips,
It's a beautiful song,
We love a chother* and I love my Mother,
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY & Zeeeeee-yah!
Next time won't you sing with meeeeee-yah!
The fishes are making songs for me
woo hoooo pah lah pah lah woo looo hoo!
All right kittens...
I can't hear youuuuu!...
We play Candy Land and I love Candy Land and
Chocolate is the best.

*Ella speak for "each other"





















Flying Home This Morning