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Recipes! We Have Recipes! from Skinny Bitch in the Kitch, Entertaining with the Sopranos, and the Ultimate Tea Diet

March 29th, 2008

At first I wasn’t too sure what to make of this Skinny Bitch series by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin. I especially have issues with the proposed title for the authors’ new cookbook, “Skinny Bitch: Bun in the Oven.” (Please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me we are not encouraging pregnant mamas to be skinny. Girls, when you are pregnant and nursing, really, you need to eat. Eat as healthfully as you can, but eat.)

Anyway, their recipes are alright. Especially since you know I’ll go low-fat, but I am not so keen on the vegan cheese. But vegan does not have to be scary! OK, I’ll go for it if you will. You first. Who doesn’t want to “Start Looking Hot!”?? Sure, that’s all of us, right? Blech. Let’s start right here with… (more…)

A Small Question About Penises

March 28th, 2008

I don’t even know what to categorize this under, so it’s listed with “sex.” Even though it’s not, per se.

(Oh my God. Do not even get my Mom going on the phrase “per se.” The waitress the other night? At Roux? Yeah, why don’t you hit that website. It’s like freakin’ Cirque du Soleil or something. Anyway. Roux. Where we never eat because it’s, you know. A hundred-dollar tab FOR VEGETABLES AND MAC AND CHEESE?? And one ONE vodka drink for me. Not three. One. Anyway. The waitress at Roux: “We don’t have a kids’ menu, per se?” Me: “I’m not paying fourteen bucks a plate for mac and cheese for these two.” My kids smile winningly. The waitress: “I’ll talk with the chef.” Leaves. My mom: “Ha! Ha! She said ‘per se.’ Why? Why use that phrase?” Waitress comes back. “He can do mac and cheese for them. Or grilled cheese. Or PB and J. For six bucks?” Me: “Good.”)

What does this have to do with penises? Nothing, I’m just tripping. Because my kid’s FEVER FINALLY BROKE IS WHY! I’m knitting. I’m watching Dancing with the Stars (Best. Season. YET.) on Tivo.

Also, I noticed that that show, Puppetry of the Penis, is back in town. Maybe it was an old Arts & Entertainment Guide, I have no idea. But I think Puppetry of the Penis is Back. Probably at the Aladdin, which is, you know. FITTING. Ha! Ha! Penis joke, see?

I don’t think penises are that funny. They serve their purpose and all, but they don’t leave me guffawing. You would never catch me at Puppetry of the Penis is what I’m saying.

What I’d like to ask y’all, since you’re so sophisticated and everything, is this: Why is it that lesbians think penis jokes, Puppetry of the Penis (no I’m not giving them a link), Penis Humor, “per se,” are funny, but straight women are all, ewww. Get that thing away from me.

????

Why is this, Internets? Or is it just me?

OK, here’s their damn link. End of April. It’s funny that it’s at the Aladdin, see, cuz it used to be a porn house. I went to dirty movies there with my friend B. and his friends when we were in high school. We were all, Oh, my God. There really are guys in raincoats here. Snuck in booze. Got drunk. Had an all-around good time. Now it’s all, high-class Puppetry of the Penis? Whatever.

Vets & Their Families & the FMLA

March 28th, 2008

from my listserv.
wm

Dear MomsRising Member,

Following on the heels of reports that there are now 4,000 dead and over 30,000 [1] U.S. soldiers wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan, was the news that essential help to military families could get held up at the Department of Labor. Why? Because help for military families got lumped in with proposed rules which could restrict working families’ access to the FMLA. This means that military families could end up waiting for months for their expanded leave while we fight to keep the FMLA intact and widely available for everyone.

Tell the Department of Labor to stop FMLA rollbacks and to protect military families now. (more…)

Friday a.m.

March 28th, 2008

So, I was dreaming I was eating strawberries, from our new plants. (Nekkid Neighbor can’t remember the name of these berries. In my dream they are called Harvest Heritage Strawberries.) (There is no such plant, don’t bother googling.) (???) (Honestly, I don’t care what they’re called — they’re lush and huge and so full of flavor. They’re the best strawberries I’ve ever had. That’s why I had to have some of her plants.)

My husband and I were having breakfast in the yard, in this dream. Gorgeous morning, fresh coffee and strawberries and pancakes or something, I have no idea. We were talking and laughing. Then I woke up.

Dear, sweet son was having wracking cough at six a.m., refused water. No fever, so that is a good thing. (Knock wood.) We both slept in until after 10 and woke up to…

Snow.

A powdering, not much, but still, snow. In Portland, Oregon! In almost-April!!! And all over the strawberry plants, which are quite hardy and I am sure will do just fine. (Knocking wood for no fever and for strawberries surviving the transplant.) No Fuchsia Saturday for us tomorrow, no planting potatoes. (I found a box of sprouted potatoes, forgotten from last fall’s harvest, down in the basement.)

I am laughing, and taking a minute to enjoy this craziest week ever.

best,

WM

Five p.m. weather and health update, just for Vixen: It’s hailing. That’s the third time this afternoon. Wacky Boy has had no fever all day, hall-e-LUjah, is drinking lots of liquids but refuses to eat anything besides breakfast bars. But that is not out of the ordinary, at all.

the kid is feeling a little better

March 27th, 2008

The antibiotics reportedly taste like “GRASS and DIRT! I hope you KNOW THIS!” says my son.

I do know one thing — if you’re yelling and complaining like that, you’re feeling better.

Will keep you all posted. Happy Thursday. Sorry 13ers — no list of my own today. But the whole trying to get the kid to take his antibiotics reminded me of this… I don’t know who wrote it, but it’s awfully funny. xo wm

HOW TO GIVE A CAT A PILL (more…)

well, well, well

March 26th, 2008

I would like if my son would get well, the poor thing. He’s been sick for three weeks now!

Fever: once in awhile, but not super-high, and not high enough to keep him down for long (with the exception of yesterday, when he put himself to bed in the middle of the day.)

Throwing up: one time. Two weeks ago?

Coughing: Constantly, but until this morning, sounded like a “getting better” cough, not an “wheezing, unable to catch breath” cough. Until today.

Runny nose: He’s five. He always has a runny nose.

My nerves: Frayed. (more…)

trying to keep going

March 24th, 2008

Thanks to the Wacky Nekkid Neighbors, I now have two full beds of strawberries plants rooting into the rich, crumbly dirt in my back yard.

I have been down. I get the blues, the mean reds, the woe is me tragic-tragics.

And there I am, trying to hold it together, snapping at my kids for no reason. Hating the park. Loathing, despising, fearful of the park, where my dad had a psychotic break. What do I tell my kids? "I wish I liked the park, but it reminds me of Grandpa's psychotic break. Honey-children, I hate the park. Can we play in the yard instead?"

It's all because I had to stop being a kid when I turned about eight, and it became clear with each institutionalization (seven or so total) that my dad would not get better, would never get better, would die soon. Did die soon, much too young. (When he was 31 and I was nine; my mom was 30, my sister was six. We were all four much, much too young.) I want my kids to be allowed to be kids, but I have a hard time with the boundaries -- they do need to learn some responsibilities -- how to do simple chores, how to be polite when someone fixes them food. They are not allowed to throw tantrums. They need to show respect. The quacking bunnies? I can deal with the quacking bunnies. But sometimes they need to go upstairs, with the teddy bears and Webkinz toys, and have a little break.

My kids need to be kids. They get to be kids. I'll keep trying to find some balances here.

I miss my dog. It's been a whole long year, and I miss him so much. When we were at the beach this weekend, I was longing for him (never mind how disgusting dogs are at the beach, pooping in the sand, rolling in dead porcupines, shaking water and sand all over you while you're trying to build a sand castle or read a book. Never mind all of that.) In my mind, it's just my dog chasing after a tennis ball over and over and over until he's exhausted, flopping on the sand, tongue hanging out of one side of his mouth, sleeping in front of the fire when we get back to the motel room.) My puppy.

Nothing to do here but ride it out. Pray. Light my candles. Talk with my friends. Lean on my husband. He is always a rock for me. I want to be as strong for him and the kids as they are for me.

The kids just got back from the Nekkid Neighbors -- they played for an hour. They love being on break. I love being on break, too, even with the topsy-turvy scheduling -- in town, out of town, no tap dance, no piano. Practice, practice for Wacky Girl -- she is such a talented piano player. She plays like an angel. It brings me so much joy to hear her. I planted the strawberries, I weeded, I dreamed about the summer. We can camp and swim and sleep in. I can hang laundry on the line and have the whole summer off work. (Thank you, school districts, for giving me the same schedule as my kids. This is a godsend.) My unpaid volunteer gig may turn into a paid gig, soon. We shall see.

In the meantime, I love my family, my friends, my blog community.

I love the students I work with. It is fulfilling work. It is satisfying work, keeping the lines of communication open, working on projects. I love doing things on a shoestring, I shine at that. You give me a shoestring budget, I will find fifty different things to do with it.

On my lunch hours, I've taught probably one hundred kids and staff how to knit. They're teaching each other, their siblings, their teachers. Kids who would never touch each other, never associate with each other, are talking. They're sitting together, touching hands, leaning in to each other. They're showing each other how to make scarves, how to "finger-knit" chokers and bracelets. That's pretty huge, isn't it? All these knitters and nice people who don't even know these kids have loaded us up with boxes and bags full of pretty yarns. Thank you again, Naked Sheep. Thanks for the rest of our lives. We love you guys.

I’m talking a rainbow of yarns, in cotton, mohair, angora, acrylic, everything under the sun. They’ve donated needles — straights and circular — patterns, half-finished projects, everything you could think of. Several knitters have stepped up to help.

Three other knitters want to start an afterschool club. To those of you (and you know who you are. And no, you probably aren’t even reading this blog) — to those of you who scoff and act like knitting doesn’t “count.” You’re wrong. It counts.

I’m starting to feel better already.

Pat Buchanan is a 16-Piece Chicken McNuggethead

March 23rd, 2008

Pat Buchanan, go take a look in the mirror and guess who won’t be coming to dinner at the White House. I notice comments are closed on that post, just like your mind.

Stop being a racist, baby. It’s 2008.

Love,

WM

road signs

March 23rd, 2008

In Newberg: ENCHANTED ALPACAS

It saddens me to say that my favorite road sign — WINOS GO HOME! — is no longer posted in Dundee, Oregon. (We like our wineries, okay? Is that wrong?)

But I did spot several other good ones outside of Dundee:

GUN CLUB

FRYER RABBITS NOW

HONEY

NEED A BABYSITTER?

and my favorite:

1 CROSS
3 NAILS
4-GIVEN
HAPPY EASTER!

Right back at ya… Happy Easter (if you celebrate Easter. If not, I say Happy Spring! to you). We stayed at the coast over night in Depot Bay. We slept in a motel, not on a charter boat, don’t get all excited. My son and I both spotted whales migrating north from Mexico to Alaska.

Wacky Boy: “I thought it was a rock, first. But then it moved and then splashed!”

That’s how you know it’s a whale, not a rock. Just in case you ever go whale-watching. Yesterday was sunny and clear, perfect whale-watching weather. Today was overcast and stormy, bad visibility, so we headed home. That’s all…

wm

Girl Scouts and Their Moms

March 22nd, 2008

From the Columbia River Council Girl Scout listserv this morning:

“Girls Scouts behind bars? Be prepared for an unorthodox and transforming story that follows the girls of Austin Texas Troop 1500. Well-versed in the “Be Prepared” mantra of the Girl Scouts, spunky troop leader Julia Cuba guides her girl scouts into the concrete jungle in which their mothers live.

The daughters must continually adapt to new emotional territory, and the mothers find that their best intentions are too often trumped by their weaknesses. With its beautiful camerawork and skillful use of videotaped interviews conducted by the daughters and their moms, “TROOP 1500″ is a candid, moving look at families torn apart by crime but trying to relate beyond prison walls.”

– Orlando Sentinel

“An estimated 1.5 million children have incarcerated parents and 90 percent of female inmates are single parents. Their daughters are six times more likely to land in the juvenile justice system. TROOP 1500 poignantly reveals how an inspired yet controversial effort by the 90+ year old Girl Scouts Organization is working to help these at-risk young girls deal with their unique circumstances and break the cycle of crime within families.

For Personal, Home Use only

ELLEN SPIRO’S DIRECTOR’S CUT

To order a DVD of the Director’s Cut (12 more minutes than TV version) of TROOP 1500 click here. These DVDs are not for public viewing or institutional use. 100% of profits from this special “Director’s Cut” DVD go to a Mobilus Opportunity Fund for the girls in TROOP 1500. The DVDs cost $34.95, plus $4 shipping and handling.

For educational, institutional and public screenings of Troop 1500 please click here.

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