* Marbles
* Trains & train tracks
* Trucks
* Tin boxes
* Wax paper from small rounds of cheese
* Tiny dinosaurs
* Duplos
* Legos
* Blocks

I don’t know how old these toasts are, but older than I am at the very least…

“When God measures you,
may He put the tape
around your big and
generous heart and not
around your small and
foolish head.”

“May those who love us love
us;
And those that don’t love
us,
May God turn their hearts;
And if He doesn’t turn
their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by
their limping.”

“The Irish heart — quick
and strong in its generous impulses;
firm in its attachments and
sound to the core.”

“I have a terrible memory; I never forget a thing.”
— Edith Konecky, writer

Dear Doctor I Fired Yesterday,
You were a lousy doctor, that’s why I fired you. In case you were wondering. And no, you can’t fire me, or quit, because I fired you first. Nyah-nyah.

(more…)

Going through old boxes of cards, clippings and journals here, getting ready to move. I refuse to drag too much of the past with me, especially when it’s bad journal entries circa 1992. Haven’t found jobs yet, but we’re readying the house for sale, just in case, and getting as much packed as we can.

Turns out you can accumulate quite a few Very Important Things if you live in the same place for seven years. You look at them again, these things, and you think, “I can live without this.” So you pack it and hide it in the attic, put it in the Goodwill box, or give it to a friend. It is amazing how much we’ve gathered. And a little crazy, when you start wondering how it’s all going to fit into a moving van???

Here’s something funny from one of my old journals — I started collecting family mottos from my friends. A few of the funnier ones:

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If you leave it in a public place it becomes public property.” (from my friend KC, who came from a large family)

“Better late than dead.” (From my friend CB, who came from a family of too-fast drivers.)

“It looks just fine.” (A good all-purpose motto, no?)

“Take it as it comes.”

“I didn’t do it” and “You smell like a goddamn brewery.” (ha ha — same family for both of these mottos. Denial, anyone?)

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” (EQ, another member of a large family)

“Don’t grow up too fast.” (and from the same family…) “Date an educated man — they’re more civilized.” (and, for family members who refused to get out of bed…) “OK. Be a loser.”

My family’s: “Roll with the punches” and “Men are like streetcars — there’s another one along every fifteen minutes.”

What’s yours?

From the last few fortune cookies we’ve nibbled on here:

“Your mentality is practical and alert.”

“You will win favors when you expand your social circle.”

“Work on improving your exercise routine.”

“The softest voice sometimes carries the most power.”

“Children will play an important role in your life.”

Q: So. How you doin’?

A: Good. Except I’m trying to stuff all these old entries into categories. I have, uh, 327 to go? I am so screwed over here. Why did I not do this before? Every time I read other people’s blogs I’d think, oooh, looky! They have these neat little category thingys. How do you do that? Then I’d la-di-da away from the computer. Why?

Q: Cuz you’re a dingbat?

A: Is that a question?

Q: No, not really. How was dinner?

A: Good, good. We had dinner with friends. I mean, grown-up friends. Actually, it was terrible.

Q: The food?

A: No, the food was great. We’ve been going to a place called Pause, this pub over on North Interstate Ave. Burgers, great pastas, starters, soups, yummy desserts. Decent service, nice setting. We met there. Our friends just moved — they have no kitchen. They’re remodeling. So they have to eat out every meal now — it’s like they’re pretending we live in Manhattan or something.

Q: So it was the company?

A: NO, OH MY GOD. WE HAD DINNER WITH OTHER GROWN-UPS. They’re nice. Smart. Know how to put, you know, sentences together. And stuff.

Q: It was the kids, wasn’t it?

A: THEY’RE MONSTERS. Not theirs — ours. Their kids are great. Ours won’t eat. They crawl under the table. They crawl on the table. They throw things. They spill things. They run around and annoy other diners. I’ve turned into one of those horrible parents who’s all, “honey, sit down honey, please honey,” and looks like she’s just donated her BRAIN or something. Wacky Boy grabbed my friend’s beer and tried to take a big gulp of it. My friend is all, “That’s not yours, guy,” and Wacky Boy is all, “I want beer.” LIKE WE GIVE HIM BEER WHENEVER HE ASKS FOR IT. We don’t.

Q: What’s his favorite toy?

A: (silence)

Q: Spill it. What is it?

A: His father’s Homer Simpson beer opener.

Q: The talking one?

A: Yes, it’s the talking one. It says, “Ummmmmm, beer, YES, OH YES! WOO-HOOOOO!” when you use it.

Q: You are the worst mother I’ve ever met. Interview OVER.

Those of you visiting from Mom’s Daily Dose, que pasa, mamas? Welcome!

More in a bit — need to run kids to school.

Kids are back in school, I HAVE A SCHEDULE AGAIN THANK YOU JEEBUS, my mom stopped by to pick up a boxload of slides (including some for my sister), Wacky Cousin is picking up a third of them on Thursday, I have another boxload of slides to drop at my auntie’s, but the big news is…

The party was a blast. I mean — to have grown-up talk, with super-nice, intelligent, funny people, who also happen to be my neighbors — it was cool. It was the best way I’ve ever welcomed in a New Year. The kids were great. The babies nursed and slept, smiled and stretched and slept some more. The big kids sang us a ton of songs, including “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph,” “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” They were dolls. And when I sent them off to play, they went.

More later on the food — it was fantastic.

Here are my new favorite sites, check them out:

Terrible Mother

Michael Easton

Mrs. Flinger

Vegan Lunchbox

and…

Etch-A-Sketch (who posted this? BusyMom? Yes she’s the one.)

Yeah, that last post was a complete downer, sorry. So here’s something funny…

Chinese Food on Christmas

A joke from a friend:

Q: What do you do if you’re attacked by a troupe of circus performers?
A: Go for the juggler.