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.

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.)

It’s New Year’s Day — happy 2007! I’ve noticed that everyone is writing up cool memes for the new year, listing out resolutions, talking about their plans for their blogs. None of that here at Wacky House, because I am in full party avoidance mood. This always happens to me before we throw a party. I get a bunch of stuff done ahead of time — cleaning, baking, cooking — then the day of I’m all, “Yikes. People are coming over in three hours? Whose idea was that?”

That’s usually when Hockey God swoops in and cleans both bathrooms (which he did), and sometimes does the dishes (I’m still hoping). And it’s when I decide to break out the family slides and re-organize them. You know. In all my free time. No, for real — we were looking for something fun to do with the kids last night, after we had pizza and watched the hockey game. (Do we know how to party over here or what?) I broke out the slide projector, turned an end table around so we could project onto a somewhat blank wall, and found the slides from my Mom’s family.

Way too many slides of Cows in the Front Yard (my grandfather ranched) and not enough of People Acting Goofy. Since I’m the oldest grandkid, and my mom is the oldest kid in her family, you would think that most of the pix would be of us, right? You would be wrong. My grandfather really, really loved his goddamn cows. Here’s one! It’s a cow in the back yard, trying to get in through the sliding glass door. And another — it’s snowing, and a cow is hovering on the front porch, between the house and the spruce hedges. Brrr. Cold cow! Go back to the barn! Here’s my grandpa, cooing at a cow. And my uncle, with a look on his face like he’s thinking, “Cows? WTF? I thought we were going hunting this weekend…”

My favorite pic: My grandma washing her hair in a bucket by the side of the road in Alaska, when she and my grandpa drove up there with their travel trailer for a fishing trip in ’73.

My grandma.

With her head.

In a bucket.

Yeah.

Another large group of slides are of my grandpa, waving various guns around, while he and my uncles are hunting. Ditto: uncles with guns. Ditto: uncles’ friends with guns.

So I’m thinking, “Why am I hanging on to these slides? They’re not of me. They’re boring. Except the bucket picture, which is frickin’ hilarious. Eastern Oregon is pretty and all, but damn, how many photos of ponderosa pines does one family need in the archives? God, I hate cows.”

Then I find a slide in the middle of this jumble, and it’s of my Dad and me. He’s teaching me to fish. I look about three in the photo. Aw. And one of me, holding my newborn sister. Aw. And my mom, looking gorgeous and young (!!! twenty!!! She and my Dad were babies when they got married — he was only 21.) Then I get to a box where it says (in my grandma’s handwriting): GOOD SLIDES. I think, “Hot damn, here we go.”

They’re of the “snow dell trip” “truck in ditch” and my baby sister, posing with two deer heads that my uncles stuck in a detergent box as a joke. (Successful hunting trip, from the looks of it. They must have been in jolly moods. These pix are pre-cow.)

Really, I think this is all you need to know about my family, the essence of who we are. Because truly, she meant it. Those were the GOOD SLIDES. I’m taking all of them, sorting them out in big plastic envelopes, and my uncles get these, my aunts get those, my sister gets the others; my cousins will get a batch. I took a hundred of them to Fred Meyer this morning to be scanned and put on a CD — $38 bucks! Not bad.

My question: What to do with the one of granny washing her hair? I’m thinking eBay.

Happiest New Year’s wishes for organization in your family tree.

Love,

WM

Here you go — Keywords Report update (and yes, I love that “neurotic mothers” — that would be moi — is sandwiched between “costco/cakes” and “costco cakes”):

The number one thing people were searching for that brought them to my site… Yes, that’s right. You guessed it…

david cassidy
!!!!!!!! David, I think I love you, David.

Other popular searches:

wacky mommy
peanut butter playdough
clingy baby
pixie kitchen
booty dancers
delta breastfeeding
costco/cakes
neurotic mothers
costco cakes

Because I just wanted to let my opinion be known… so there it is. I am expressing myself.

“I’m expressin’ with my full capabilities/
And now I’m livin’ in correctional facilities/
Cuz some don’t agree with how I do this/
I get straight/
meditate like a Buddhist/”
— NWA

Gay marriage should be legal. Wacky Mommy says yes, yeah, go for it, I support it and fully. Love, love, love.

“All you need is love/
Love is all you need/”
— The Beatles

However. The voters of Oregon, progressive and green and free-loving though we may be, passed Measure 36 a couple of years ago, stating that “only a marriage between one man and one woman shall be valid or legally recognized as a marriage.” (Here are some of the arguments against this measure.) (And “we” being “them” because you know I didn’t vote the damn thing in.)

My point: I still see tons of bumperstickers here that say ONE MAN ONE WOMAN YES ON 36 all over town and damn if I wouldn’t love to get my hands on about five or seven of them. Cuz I’d cut them up to say:

ONE WOMAN
ONE WOMAN

ONE MAN
ONE MAN

ONE WOMAN
ONE MAN

And then right next to all that I’d put a Bob Marley sticker that said:

ONE LOVE
ONE HEART
LET’S GET TOGETHER AND FEEL ALRIGHT

Happy New Year to all of you. Peace in 2007.

Loves and kisses, hogs and quiches,

WM

PS — If anyone can get some of these bumperstickers for me I would sure appreciate it.

PSS — No, I haven’t started baking or cleaning yet for the party on Monday, thanks for asking.

“The butterfly counts not years but moments and has time enough.”

— Rabindranath Tagore, poet, philosopher, author, songwriter, painter, educator, composer, Nobel laureate (1861-1941)

The smut mail is hitting the fan, so to speak. We’re trying to figure something out… Thanks for your patience.

Happy Friday.

WM

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!

Rest in peace, James Brown, who passed away Christmas morning. The newspaper said he held one last toy giveaway on Saturday in Augusta. Yay, Santa… My favorite song of his, that I’m always humming at Christmastime…

Santa Claus/
go straight to the ghetto/
Santa Claus/
go straight to the ghetto/
Tell them James Brown sent you/
Ha!/
go straight to the ghetto/
you know that I know that you will see/
’cause that was once/
me/
hit it/
hit it/

And for Tuesday Recipe Club (you might need to save this one ’til next summer, but the pie crust recipes are great for any time):

(more…)

Hello friends and lovers,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year’s to you! All is fine here at Wacky House, other than we can’t seem to agree on pancakes (over- vs. under-done) and I misplaced all of the kids’ presents. (My husband figured out where I stashed them and saved the day.)

Lots of love from us to you,

Wacky Mommy, Hockey God, Wacky Girl & Wacky Boy