Do you love Portland, Oregon? I do not.

For my Thursday Thirteen, and for my husband, I present:

THIRTEEN REASONS PORTLAND IS LOUSY

1. Lousy rain. Nine months out of the year it rains. That’s as if, say, you got pregnant and it RAINED THE ENTIRE TIME. Now do you see what I mean? No wonder snow looks appealing to me. (I hear a chorus of voices chanting, “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.” To you I say, cheerily, “Stay dry!”)

2. Lousy mold and mildew that go hand-in-hand with rain. Lousy bronchitis, asthma and sinus problems that go hand-in-hand with mold and mildew.

3. Lousy schools because of lousy tax structure/property tax fiascos.

4. Lousy lack of American Girl shops. (Wacky Girl’s complaint. She has already mentioned — several times — that Chicago has an American Girl shop. FYI. Cuz Iowa City is three hours from Chicago.) Also, lousy lack of kids on our block, and for several blocks around us. Also, lousy school transfer system that makes it super-easy to transfer out of your neighborhood school (we did). Thus, none of the neighborhood kids know each other, because no one goes to school together.

5. Lousy idiots: Libertarians (“The government needs to cut the fat!”), Republicans (“Fewer taxes for big business = Oregon Good!”), Democrats (“Oh. Geez. No, I don’t want to make anyone mad by asking for, uh, anything. I’ll just shut up now.”), Stinkin’ Dirty Hippies (“If you and Hockey God? Want to have kids? That’s cool and all, but I don’t think I should have to, y’know, pay for them with my taxes? I mean, I’m cool! It’s all good, right? It’s not that I don’t like kids…”), Stinkin’ Oregon Trail Pioneers (who didn’t actually COME OUT HERE ON THE OREGON TRAIL, MIND YOU, but act as if they did, thus: “My family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and I don’t see why I should goddamn help you just because you can’t figure out how to find your ass with both hands.”)

6. Lousy lack of air-conditioning in most houses and numerous buildings here. People, it is true that in the “olden days” it was only warm here two or three days a year, but summers are frickin’ hot now. Once the monsoon season is over, that is.

7. Lousy frickin’ drug houses, frickin’ off-leash pitbulls, shepherds, boxers and various other breeds of dogs, frickin’ idiots who won’t stop meth production and leash their dogs. (Which is of more importance to me? I do not know. They both bug me equally. Both bite.)

8. Lousy service in every restaurant in town, except for a handful of the high-end places.

9. Lousy drivers and lousy, horrible traffic.

10. Lousy expensive houses. (Really shouldn’t include this one, because I want to cash out and blow. So I say, “Expensive houses good! Give me some money!”)

11. Lousy ocean that is too cold to swim in. Lousy traffic from the lousy casinos, to and from the coast. Lousy car wrecks up and down coast highway.

12. Lousy general lack of community and caring. Believe it or not, I am seen as one of the more caring members of our community. Yeah, I thought that was funny, too.

13. Lousy history of racism that goes back decades and continues here to this day, although people try to hush it up. Have had it with Portland.

My favorite spam I’ve ever received:

“You A Winner!”

No, YOU a winner!

I, I am NOT a winner for “Share the Love.” Dammit. Terrible Mother, you rock.

Back to my list: To my kids, everyday I say, “You’re the best.” For my Thursday Thirteen, here are “Thirteen Other Ways I Get Them Talkin'”:

May I start by saying, if you ever meet us in person, you’ll be thinking a better question is, “How do I get them to stop talking?” Nonetheless, I’ve heard that some of you have kids who clam up. Even Wacky Girl, for example, has been known to tell her father, Hockey God, “Ask mom, I already told her,” when he asks, “How was school?” (more…)

Pet lovers of America: Are you neurotic? If so, your pet must have inherited it from you. If you’re well-adjusted, no problem. You must have some unexplored, deeply hidden neuroses because your pet? All of his/her/its problems are your fault.

For my Thursday Thirteen:

13 Things I Found Out at the Vet’s Office Today

13. I need to modify my behavior if I want the dog to change, according to the vet tech. I began cursing at her, and it went downhill from there. And yes, she already knew about this and this (but not this) from reading his chart. (Is it karma? Is this whole thing my bad karma, because I stole the dog? Universe, you win.)

12. “I have fucking tried everything. Nothing works,” is what I hissed at her. (I did not slap her, as promised. Sorry.) Then I told her I was ready to have him put down over this, because my life is a mess. My house? Also a mess. She harumphed and left. They then sent in another vet tech who was nicer.

11. Just because the cat has worms it does not mean the dog does. Or the other cat. We now have a prescription for worm medicine for the one cat.

10. I found out that if I give the dog four tablets of Benadryl (25 mg. each) he may sleep at night and not stay awake, tormented, chewing his feet and tail and keeping us awake. (Bonus: I didn’t have to buy any! I’m planning to give him the liquid stuff I give the kids. Not straight out of the bottle — I’ll use a medicine spoon. Which I will wash afterward. Or burn.) (Also, the whole visit set me back $144. And that was without shots.)

9. The vet: “If you’re not getting enough sleep because the dog is keeping you awake, this might make you a little stressed.”

8. Then: “Our goal is to keep you less crazy than your dog.” Good, because that’s my goal, too. Finally we’re on the same page.

7. I need to take out the trash every time I leave the dog alone in the house. And keep all the dishes done. (Funny, I’ve already been DOING THAT. Because the few times we haven’t: Chaos.)

6. I am to give him one Metronidazole tab, 500 mg., every 12 hours for the next week. This supposedly will prevent bowel-carnage all over my domicile.

5. If I fill out a nine-page “Canine Behavior Consultation Questionnaire” and pay a vet who specializes in separation anxiety hundreds, perhaps thousands, of dollars, she will work with us. Sample questions: How does your dog get along with family members? Answer: Too well. He cannot bear to see us go. Describe your dog’s learning ability. Answer: He is smarter than I am. I’d have to say “Pretty good” to this one. List family member with least control: Hahahahahaha!!!! See? It’s always gotta come back to me, doesn’t it?

4. The Dog Whisperer says, “Give me a biting dog anyday over one of those frickin’ neurotic Yuppie Black Labs because those dogs? Those dogs cannot be helped.” (Or words to that effect. Actually, I didn’t find this out at the vet — I told her that I’d read this in an interview with him. She sadly agreed.)

3. If we try giving him treats we might be able to teach him better habits. (If we hadn’t already tried that one, lady, my dog probably wouldn’t weigh NINETY-SIX POUNDS. Not 85 — 96.)

2. Doggie Prozac might help. We probably would not be able to find a good adoptive home for him. (We’ve considered this.) “Dogs like this are extremely hard to place.”

1. “It might come down to how much your quality of life is suffering. Not his — he’s fine. I mean, look at him. He’s fine. But this is not good for you.”

For my Thursday Thirteen (helloooooooooo everyone!) Wacky Mommy, Advisor to the Would-Be Stars presents:

THIRTEEN REASONS YOU SHOULD NOT GO ON “AMERICAN IDOL” (and I’m not joking here, people):

13. Most of you are unable to keep your breasts inside your bedazzled halter tops.

12. You don’t know how to pick songs to save your ass.

11. Your asses (speaking of) are not shakin’ nearly as well as that girl’s in the opening credits of “Las Vegas.” That is some ass-shaking, there.

10. Simon is a jerk. Paula is drunk. Randy is unpredictable. Ryan doesn’t give enough hugs.

9. Your kids need you at home. (Did you catch the guy who missed THE BIRTH OF HIS BABY GIRL because he was waiting to audition? AND HIS WIFE SEEMED TO BE OK WITH THIS. Good thing for him the judges said “yay.”)

8. Your wardrobe needs to consist of something a little more, I don’t know, telegenic? Khaki: nope. Dirty T-shirt: nopey-nope. Jeans that don’t really fit: triple-nope.

7. They won’t let you bring your dog to howl back-up. And I know you won’t leave home without him.

6. There are other ways to become a star.

5. You need to give more attention to your blog.

4. And the dog.

3. Really, do you need to break your parents’ hearts? No, I did not think so.

2. Your acting is much better than your singing.

1. You’re just not that damn good.

For this week’s Thursday Thirteen — just when you needed them…

THIRTEEN TIMELY QUOTES

13. “The giraffe you thought you offended last week is willing to be nuzzled today.” — anon.

12. “I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.” — August Strindberg

11. “Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra, which suddenly flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come.” — Matt Groening, “Love is Hell”

(more…)

For Thursday, Jan. 11th, 2007, here’s my Thursday Thirteen:

THIRTEEN WAYS I’M LOSING POUNDS AND POUNDS

13. By saying “no.” No to candy bars, french fries, Taco Bell (I love you Taco Bell. Miss you. Kisses!), no to mochas (no to daily mochas, at any rate… more on mochas later…). No is a great word.

12. By trying to work out daily. Walks, yoga, stairstepper, stretches. I bought two pairs of running shoes on clearance and keep an old pair of sneakers next to the stairstepper, which Hockey God bought me for cheap-cheap at Play It Again Sports.

Now, and for probably the next three months, are the best times to buy used work-out equipment. Do any of us keep our New Year’s resolutions? No, we do not. Use this to your advantage. Check the stores, Craigslist, the classifieds, your neighbors’ garage sales.

Wacky Grandpa bought a deluxe elliptical for a great deal, just because a well-intentioned woman was chagrined to find herself looking at it (but not using it) day after day. I am ready to move to Iowa City just so I can stop by his house daily to work out. It’s the Cadillac of ellipticals. Plus they have a Jacuzzi tub. And a gift-wrapping room. And a huge yard, on a great street with tons of families. Don’t you think we should move in with them?

11. By watching TV while I work out. No more lazing around in bed watching any of my new and old favorite shows. These include, but are not limited to: The Knights of Prosperity, My Name is Earl, THE OFFICE, General Hospital, One Life to Live, LAS VEGAS. And speaking of Josh Duhamel — he is a mere 6’2″. I would have guessed, eh, 6’3″, 6’5″ possibly. But he looks much taller. You know why? He is not fat. No, no Taco Bell for Josh. No chalupas there, baby.

10. I did a whole “mind-over-body” trip on myself. I reduced stress. How? By not stressing! Stress creates stress. Yeah, getting rid of The Contractors Who Refused to Leave helped. That helped a lot. Did I mention we finally paid them? That’s right. I told them they took four months to finish my bathroom, so I figured waiting four months after that to pay them was fair enough. Contractor, after hearing this: Gulp. Really, you don’t want to ever try to crush my legs because I will spring back from it, and vengeance will be mine.

9. I stopped drinking booze. (Bonus: This has saved us a ton of cash when dining out.) I was thinking that drinking was reducing stress, but I was leaning on it too much, which created more stress. Speaking of…

8. We stopped dining out so much. I’ve started substituting a bowl of soup (with no bread) for a meal whenever I can. (I try for once a day — it’s more like once every other.) Ditto a bowl of cereal (non-sugary) for a waffle. A cup of yogurt instead of a grilled cheese… You get the idea.

7. I started drinking more water. Eight-ten 8 oz. glasses every day. I keep a little notebook and tally it up. I also take fiber, vitamins, calcium and anything else I can find in the medicine chest. Kidding! about that last item. I am no druggie. I’m ditzy enough already. (You are welcome to disagree with me. Please.)

6. I started thinking about my kids, started moving like them, eating the way they eat, just trying to keep up with them, basically. I am 42. They are not. Who do you think has more energy? And speaking of…

5. I’m trying to get enough sleep every night. This is not easy, because I spaz. Especially when it’s 11 o’clock, and I hear a train whistle blow, and it reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad would get home from work (he worked swing). And then one night he didn’t. You know what helps for freak-outs such as this? Don’t laugh. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Because we all have a little ADD mouse (or moose, or pig) living inside of us, and it’s OK. You just have to learn to cope with it, that’s all.

4. More on the mochas: I fix myself coffee at home, and put a little chocolate syrup in. I call it an “almost-mocha.” And since it has no whipped cream, and not as much chocolate as a coffeehouse mocha, it does not have nearly as many calories.

3. More on #10 (the mind-over-body thing). I came to terms with some things I couldn’t fight: The Nasty Neighbor, for instance. Remember her? How could we ever forget her. Did I mention she wears leggings that she sort of oozes out of? She is not the sort of gal who should wear leggings. Especially not with a too-tight T-shirt, tucked in at the waist and baby blue Crocs. Ouch.

Dress. For. Your. Body. Type. Please, people, I just cannot stress this enough. I don’t care if you’re tall, short, heavy, thin, busty, flat, with a bubble-butt, whatever. Dress in a way that doesn’t accentuate your flaws. For instance, those of us with voluptuous asses should not have the words JUICY printed across them on our track pants. Whew, sorry I’ve been needing to get this off my large, curvy chest for awhile. Also, the neighbor felt the need to put up a pop-up canopy, sort of like this one, over her back patio.

So the dog poop won’t wash away in the rain. God, it is hideous.

God, maybe I’m not as over her as I thought I was. But for real, I am trying to focus on other stuff and it has reduced my stress level a ton. One of my friends suggested I hang twinkly lights in my kitchen window, as a distraction. I also put some pretty blue bottles on the windowsill. Ahhh, nice!

2. Baby weight is no joking matter. It’s like your body is all, “Baby! Ah, babies! I will keep these nice, soft extra pounds on as cushion, in case I decide to bear triplets! Ah, breastmilk, I’m ready for you again!” NO, NO, A THOUSAND TIMES NO. I told my body, “Sorry, but it’s time to shut down production.” And it did. And no cortisol stress going to belly, since I’m de-stressing. Ah!! Bubble baths are great, I must say. And I’ve started writing more in my journal. The blog helps, too. I love Thee, Blog, and the readers and friends I’ve met through you.

1. And… I cut back on baking. I love to bake. This one is the worst. Wish me luck, and good luck to you, too, if you’re trying to get or stay in shape.

Happy Thursday!

For this week’s Thursday Thirteen:

THIRTEEN THINGS MY HUSBAND AND I DISAGREE ON:

1. Sex. He says we waited too long after we met; I say we didn’t wait long enough. (Case in point #1: 10 pound 2 oz. baby girl Wacky. Case in point #2: 9 pound 6 oz. baby boy Wacky. Both inherited his ginormous head. C-sections, thanks for asking.)

2. Using prepositions at the ends of sentences. I say yay; he says nay. I repeat that old joke: Guy 1 asks Guy 2: “Where’s the library at?” Guy 2: “Ah, ah, ah — no preposition.” Guy #1: “OK. Where’s the library at, asshole?” HA!

3. Ice cream and other desserts. As long as I’m working out, hell yes to one dessert a day. (Today I had three. Whoops. But I worked out like a madwoman! I’ll make up for it the next few days. I mean it, Internet. I’ve been losing weight and I want it to stay that way.) He says, What are you, crazy? The kids say, Did someone say chocolate sauce? Vanilla ice cream?

4. Plastic stuff. I like plastic stuff. He prefers wood, or better yet, simplicity (ie — don’t buy the crap to begin with).

5. Dogs. I like dogs. He says no more pets.

6. I am not fond of cats. Especially ours, Pukey 1 and Pukey 2. He says he wants for us to always have a cat. Well, I don’t like spiders. Or mice. So we’ll probably always have a cat.

7. Gardening. I say plant the tomatoes mid-May; he says it’s not warm enough until second week in June.

8. Church. I like church. I believe in God. Not like a white guy, throne, long flowing robe, no no no. I mean more of a great spirit, higher power. My girlfriend (who is a devout Christian) was over today and I’m pretty sure she noticed Steve’s new read that was out in plain sight, The God Delusion. She’s open-minded, I don’t think she’d be offended, if she did see it, but I never want anyone to feel like we’re nyah-nyah-nyah, y’know?

9. Sunday School. I’ve always wanted the kids to attend, he’s always been against it. Then he realized it meant three precious hours to himself every week and now he’s a regular Homer J. Simpson, making Moon Waffles and sleeping in with the dog. I jest. He doesn’t even like waffles.

10. He doesn’t care about a lot of the things I care about. “The Office” (American version). Pedicures. “General Hospital.” Avoiding work. Avoiding housework. Going to the Caribbean. Buying a new puppy. Getting an Impala someday. “Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I don’t understand.” — Homer J. Simpson. I take comfort in this. I mean, look at Homer and Marge’s happy, long-running marriage. If they can make it, dammit, so can we.

11. I like to vacation in hot places (see above: Caribbean). He doesn’t want to vacation anywhere there’s not hockey. Or at least a hockey rink. Or at least an ice rink. Or at least pond hockey.

12. When we talk about moving it comes down to this: Must be Blue State where they play hockey. I am somewhat more flexible. Savannah, I’ve heard, is gorgeous. Austin is supposed to be rockin’. Somewhere in Arizona? Colorado? Arkansas, where my family is? I mean, we’re talking about a large number of states, X’ed off just like that, if you say no Red States.

13. We agree on this: Agree to disagree and you’re good.

How about a party for my Thursday Thirteen?

THIRTEEN THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT OUR NEIGHBORHOOD PROGRESSIVE PARTY

1. It’s going to be fun…

2. It starts at 3 p.m. on New Year’s Day. Having forgotten that we all have to work and go back to school the next day. Whoops.

3. Six households on our block are participating. We didn’t invite everyone because we don’t like everyone. Especially people who suck. They are not invited. We will thumb our noses at them as we make merry past their houses. See how it works?

4. One of our neighbors is friendlier than most of us, and she may invite two other households to join in. Which is fine. I think.

5. First Course: Wacky Nekkid Neighbors are serving Butternut Squash Soup and An Assortment of Breads. (I don’t know if there will actually be an assortment, or just one kind, but Assortment of Breads has such a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?) They have the new baby and all, so they’re not inviting people in. Wacky Nekkid Mini-Neighbor and Wacky Boy are best friends, so they can run wild and knock soup off the table. And we can all goo-goo over Nekkid Bebe. The soup will be served where we’re having…

6. Second Course: Appetizers at V and S’s house. V is a chef by trade, so we’re all pretty psyched she’s cooking for us. Because she really gets thoroughly sick of cooking. Plus, S’s daughter (and possibly V’s daughter) will join us, so the more the merrier! S’s daughter is Wacky Girl’s age, so they can run and be goofy and sing songs for us if there are any lulls in the conversation.

7. Third Course: Salad at T and J’s house. They also have a new baby. A new old baby — he was born in August, so he’s not that new. Not as new as Nekkid Bebe. He is still extremely cute, though, so we will gaga goo-goo for him, too. Maybe they won’t feel like having the crew trample through their home? But maybe they will. Anyway, on to…

8. Fourth Course: Lasagna by A. She’s getting fresh sheets of pasta from Pastaworks (I love Pastaworks. Cookbooks, sauces, fresh pasta, cookbooks, more pasta, yummy.) She’s making one vegetarian and one not. I believe she wants us all to come by her place. We’ve all been doing a lot of work on our houses, so it will be fun to show everything off. Plus, hello, gossip? Hell to the yes for neighborhood gossip and noshes. We have one more neighbor who’s taking part — not sure if he’s doing food or not, but I think he’s going to hang out with us. They have done a ton of work on their house, and he’s done all of it himself, or with friends, so I’m hoping he invites us over for drinks or just a tour. (Most of the houses on our block are about one hundred years old now, so it’s fun to see them get spoiled.)

9. Fifth Course: Our place for dessert and a toast. Chocolate Volcano Cake with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, Lemon Squares, Chocolate Chip Cookies and fresh fruit. For the toast, sparkling pear and apple ciders. Only two of us drink! So the drinkers can bring wine or beer if they want. We’re all making jokes that it’s something in the water — or not.

10. I’m not really sure how these progressive parties work, which is too bad, since I’m kind of the hostess. It was not just my idea! V, A and Wacky Nekkid Neighbor have been talking for ages about a block party. So if you have any suggestions, please e them to me or leave a message in comments.

11. Hockey God and I are going to make up a menu card/invite thing, with everyone’s full names and details about the food they’re sharing. (I do not know all of my neighbors’ last names. Do you? And we’ve only recently started trading phone numbers. We’re popping in and out of each other’s houses all the time, though, and leaving things for each other on porches or in mailboxes. We all look out for each other, it’s nice.)

12. Wacky Girl is thrilled about this party — why should I bother to worry about details when I know she’ll come up with some great elaborate plan and all I’ll need to do is say, “Yep, what next?” and follow along behind her? (Most of our days go this way. Thank God one of us is chop-chop.)

13. I think this will be a cool way to welcome in 2007. Bye-bye, Year of the Dog (George W. Bush? Dick Cheney? Kevin Federline?) and helloooooooooooo Year of the Pig! Bon appetit, everyone!

THIRTEEN THINGS I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
by Wacky Girl

Dear Santa,

I have a long list for you. I would like

1) an Ipod
2) the game Guess Who?
3) Pom-poms for my cheerleader outfit
4) a Bratz Baby
5) I would really like a new Lamby
6) the American Girl doll Emily
7) a Hannah Montana CD
8) a fuzzy poster
9) the movie Star Wars
10) the movie High School Musical
11) a sparkly purse
12) a scooter
13) a Doodle Bear

You don’t have to get that all. PS — My brother wants a million pieces of money.

From,

Wacky Girl

The kids gave their gifts to their teachers today — Christmas ornaments, chocolate bars, holiday cards and a poem by Wacky Girl. (Keeping everything simple and within the budget this year.) For this week’s Thursday Thirteen…

THIRTEEN GREAT GIFTS TO GIVE A TEACHER

1. Volunteer in class when you can.

2. Gift certificates — to restaurants, a gourmet grocery store, a bookstore, an office supply place.

3. If you have time, go into the school when you pick up your child and ask if they need help cleaning the classroom — recycle old papers, wipe down the desks, push in the chairs, sharpen the pencils, sort out work to go home with the kids.

4. Buy them a CD player for the class if they need one. Or beanbag chairs. Or bookshelves. Teachers spend way too much of their own money outfitting their classrooms and buying supplies for students.

5. Small gifts are fine — kids’ drawings, cards or letters, poems. Even a thank you note will do. An assortment of teabags, a pound or two of coffee. Homemade or storebought cookies, mints, cheese and crackers.

6. Jewelry. My daughter came home from kindergarten saying, “Some of the kids bought the teacher jewelry for Christmas!” It was from the Dollar Store, but who cares? (If you can afford better, go for it.)

7. Neck wraps — I have a lavender-scented one I love. Heat it in the microwave for two minutes and neckache is gone. Teachers (the ones I’ve known, anyway) seem to internalize most of their stress.

8. Journals, blank notecards, fancy pens.

9. A homemade meal — something easy to transport, that you can leave with them at the end of day. Maybe a casserole with a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and dessert. No time to cook? Costco meals are much appreciated, too. (I’m thinking of my neighbors right now — new parents, teachers, the mail carrier — everyone likes a meal that they didn’t have to fix.)

10. A gift certificate for a massage, manicure or pedicure.

11. Fruit baskets — small or large.

12. DVDs, music CDs, books, magazines. Or better yet — subscriptions to magazines.

13. Anything, really, as long as you’ve put a little thought into it.

Honestly? It’s the thought that counts. When I saw my daughter’s teacher reading her poem to himself (she drew little pictures in the margins, it’s totally sweet), then asking her, “You wrote this? Did it take you long?” I don’t know who was happier — him, her or me. My daughter’s kindergarten teacher showed me the best present she got at the end of the school year — a little Matchbox car that one of the kids gave her. (He saw the other kids had brought in gifts, and didn’t want to overlook her.) Now that is a present.