He sees you when you're sleeping...

Every family has their holiday traditions, some of which are more fun than others. Also, they tend to vary in 'fun quotient' from year to year. One of our family traditions is to go to Candy Cane Lane. We went this year (late, as all my holiday events seem to be this year), and it wasn't nearly as fun this year as it was last. However I'd' written to a friend about last year's escapade, and since I didn't have a blog then, here it is. Heck, it's new to you!

For one of our 'girls nights', I decided to take B and one of her friends out for a bit of holiday merriment. We hit Starbucks for fresh hot cocoa and gingerbread, grabbed some Christmas CDs and headed out in the van. There's a neighborhood nearby that has been going all-out decorating for Christmas since it was built in the 50's. The HOA got together and each street picked a theme - Candy Cane Lane, Caroler's Way, and Candlelight Lane. It was neat seeing some of the original decorations, but of course, a lot of homes had all new decorations up instead. Unfortunately, many of the houses were dark, but some went all-out. Honestly, it made me wonder about their power bills!

Of course, there were some enterprising folks, too. One house had their '5th annual cocoa and cookies for charity' drive going on. Another had Santa hats for sale - complete with glitter glue for personalized decorations. When we saw the funnel cake cart, the girls went batty, and, being the cool parent that I am, I got out and bought them one. (OK, I sat in the nice warm car and sent them out into the cold with a $20 bill as I watched.)

The quantity of sugar consumed that late at night became painfully obvious very quickly. I had some carols in the CD player, but all hell broke loose when I popped in "Radio Disney Holiday Jams." They loved 'Rockin Around the Christmas Tree' and 'Jingle Bell Rock', but then the Dog-Bark Jingle Bells came on, and the van started bouncing as they did. It was followed by 'J-5's' version of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town.' (I didn't know the Jackson 5 had a nickname, did you?) We finished off that CD, singing along when we knew the songs, making up words and laughing when we didn't, hollering 'Merry Christmas' to other cars who were slowly snaking their way through the streets in the opposite direction.

Once the CD ended, the girls had me go back and play the Dog Bark Jingle Bells and J-5's song at least 4 more times. Boy, did we have fun!! I didn't realize that little Michael Jackson's pitch made it almost impossible to actually 'sing' that song; instead, you have to shout it. And the girls shouted to high heaven! They made up a line or two, as well. "He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake" preceded, "Cuz he's a stalker!!" (Makes sense.) Which of course made the remaining lyrics shift a bit to, "Santa Claus is going to jail!"

Creative little buggers.

So, to quote Dean Martin:
May all your days be merry, your seasons full of cheer!

And here's a little something that had me laughing until my kids thought I was being killed... slowly! I miss Whitney - she used to do the same crazy stuff in the snow!

A Very Twilight Birthday

This year, my daughter's birthday happened to fall on the same day as the opening of the movie "Twilight" which is her favorite book series at the moment - along with millions of other tweens, teens and moms across America, etc. For those of you who have no idea what this new "Twilight" craze is, it's over a series of books about a girl who falls in love with a vampire who doesn't drink human blood. Many of the tweens who were hooked on Harry Potter are now hooked on "Twilight," like B. B is a Twihard: meaning, she's not just into "Twilight" like Twilighters, or a few books like the Fanpires, but she's into all four of the books, the movie, and all things "Twilight" related.

Wanting to be a good mom, I thought it was important to know what my daughter was into, so I read the whole series, too. Since I liked them, I guess that makes me a Twimom. Well, I suppose that in and of itself wouldn't make me a full Twimom, but the rest of the activities I participated in with my daughter last week certainly qualify me for the status. (I've been informed by B that I'm not an official "Twilight Mom" until I register at their website. That's OK, I'm happy with my 'unofficial' Twimom status.)

See, a Twihard and a Twimom!

We started out with the Twilight pre-movie party at our local bookstore. There B and a bunch of her friends (accompanied by their moms) met to play Twilight-related games. I got into it at one point when they were playing a quote game and I realized I knew the answers to who said all the quotes. The girls running the party seemed impressed that I would jump in with a group of 20 or more Twihards - some of them in full costume to look like their favorite character. And I had a great time helping the girls dress B's friend D up in a toilet-paper version of "Bella's" prom dress, too. She liked it so much, she didn't want to take it off! Alas, we came in second.

On the 18th, we had a great opportunity for me to rack up some 'rock' points with my daughter. The Hot Topic stores are selling Twilight merchandise, and in true corporate synergy fashion, they had a cross-promotional tour going with the band Paramore (which has two songs on the movie soundtrack) and some of the teen stars from the movie. If you schlepped down to the Hot Topic store on Hollywood and Highland to buy a $30 tour shirt, you got a wristband entitling you to meet either the band or the movie stars at a poster signing following a mini-concert and a Q&A with the stars. One of B's friend's moms volunteered to go buy the shirts, and I volunteered to take the girls to the actual concert.

Now, this is the same tour that's been going to malls all around the country - begining with the fiasco in San Francisco where over 3,000 tweens and their moms mobbed the Hot Topic, requiring riot police to step in, etc. However, I didn't realize this until after we'd plopped down our money and I was committed to escorting my daughter and her two friends to the concert.

Paramore rocking the Kodak Theater Complex at Hollywood & Highland!

Thankfully, the Hot Topic team had learned a lot during their cross-country tour, so, as this was the final concert, they had the whole thing dialed in. We couldn't have asked for a better experience! One of B's friends has a physical disability, so when we arrived - all of us in our matching tour shirts - asking about their handicapped accommodations, the Hot Topic Team swooped in and gave us a spectacular place from which to watch the concert: they placed us at the head of the line for the poster signing, which happened to be just off the side of the stage.

The 3 Twihards, in our spot just off stage!

Not only did we wind up having a great view of the concert, but the team chatted us up and made sure the girls felt like V.I.P.s themselves. They took the girls to get glimpses of the female lead, Kristen Stewart, who played Bella, as well as taking them over to see the other stars who were being interviewed for Fox and T.V. Guide. (For those of you who are interested, that included the actors who played Jacob, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie & Emmett.) When the Hot Topic team realized the kids wouldn't be able to see the Q&A because of the screens that were erected for the stars to stand in front of, one of the guys volunteered to take the kids down to a place where they could see them but still get back to head up the line.

So can you imagine how happy these three girls were??? And B had never been to a rock concert before, much less had the opportunity to star gaze at her teen idols. I was really glad that I didn't lose my hearing, what with all the screeching that was going on!

Just a little happy??

We were so thankful for the extra opportunities the Hot Topic team gave the girls. As it was, the poster signing went by so quickly, the girls hardly had the chance to get out a 'hi' before we were being rushed out the door. Instead, they'd already had ample time to oogle the stars before we even headed to the signing. Being at the head of the line, the girls were having their picture taken by the local newspaper and they were even interviewed by the Fox morning news as they came out of the signing. They were so gobsmacked, they didn't say much, but one of B's friends made it onto Good Day LA the following morning, gushing about how she 'almost had a heart attack' when Taylor Lautner said hi to her.

Ready for the poster signing!

Of course, our Twilight birthday had to include the movie itself. B didn't want a traditional party. Instead she asked to be allowed to see the midnight showing of the movie - thus spending her first two hours of her birthday in the movie theater. I couldn't very well ask any of her friends parents to allow their kid go with us and miss a day of school, so I asked my niece instead. Although it meant spending hours sitting in line on a concrete walkway, we had a really good night together. As an added bonus since we were spending the next day at Disneyland, we stayed at the Disneyland Hotel since it was only 50 yards or so from the movie theater in Downtown Disney. What convenience!

Cousins killing time in line for the midnight showing of Twilight!

All I can hope is that I earned enough 'cool mom' points to last for a while! In any case, it was a lot of fun, and it was a great experience to share with B. Of course, B's already excited they've announced they're making "New Moon" - the next book in the series. So we get to do it all over again!! Woo hoo!!

Next year I'll buy one...

... a pumpkin pie, that is.

This year, as things played out, we're having the smallest Thanksgiving Day gathering ever for our fam. Just the four of us. So I decided to take on making the pie myself. Normally, there's pumpkin pie, apple pie, my French silk pie, and even some birthday cake (when you're having a group of 20+, that's not too much.) So everybody gets a little of whatever they want, and it's all good. But this year, seeing as how we had two b-days occur just before T-day, I knew we'd have leftover birthday cake to eat, which meant even a single pie would be more than we probably needed.

However, pumpkin pie is a requirement for Thanksgiving. Not having it would be like not having turkey. Yet I couldn't bring myself to buy one, which meant taking on the task of baking one, which I'd never done before. My big sis Judy is the baker in the family - famous for her pies and cheesecakes. But I never bothered to learn from her.

I love pumpkin pie, and so do the kids; however, M doesn't always. Supposedly it's a texture thing. So I found this recipe in my favorite T-day cookbook for a pie made with creme fraise which makes it more of a cross between a pie and a cheesecake. So I went for it. But as the evening wore on, I began to hate the line, "Set over hot but not boiling water (in a double boiler) and cook, stirring, until the mixture is hot and thick." That's all it said. No time given, like in the cranberry recipe where it said, "Stir constantly for about ten minutes over medium-high heat until the berries begin to pop and the liquid begins to thicken." Those were specific directions which resulted in cranberries so amazing that even my son couldn't get enough of them (when the only fruit he likes to eat are grapes or apples.) However, with the pumpkin pie, B and I took turns stirring for over a half hour with no noticeable change in thickness! I was hot, tired, and ready for bed, but I still had to make the meringue mixture, fold it in, and then bake the darn thing!!

I finally gave up on the 'thickening' requirement and decided that 40+ minutes was plenty. I finished up the mixture and poured it into my beautifully golden pie shell. That's when I realized I had way more mixture than I should. Thankfully, I'd gotten some mini tart shells (thinking I'd try to send some pumpkin pie to my nephew who is serving in Afghanistan). So I had those to fill with the extra mix. I threw them in the oven, did some chores while they baked, and reported back to the hot kitchen once the timer went off.

I peered at the pies. They didn't look done to me, but the toothpick came out clean. I guess that's because they aren't the usual thick, dense consistency that can crack. Also, the creme fraise made it a lot lighter color than usual.

Hmmm.... I guess we'll just have to see tomorrow. I sure hope it was worth it. All I know is it's after 11:30 and I'm exhausted! I hope they've cooled enough, because I have to go to bed!!

P.S. I tried one of my tartlets just after it cooled, and I was decidedly unimpressed. It was NOT a cross between a traditional pumpkin pie and a cheesecake. However, after Thanksgiving dinner, we simply were too stuffed to break into the full pie and decided to eat the last three tartlets instead for a 'small morsel'. I never understood how essential the chilling process was to pumpkin pies. There is definintely a reason they're refrigerated! It really made them set up nicely and gave them the promised cheesecake-consisency. I'm feeling much better about my first foray into pumpin-pie making and plan on serving the full-sized pie when we have relatives over on Sunday.

Identity Box

Recently, as an assignment for his Life Skills class, my son had to create an Identity Box. The concept was simple: wrap up a shoebox, put pictures on the outside which represent how people see you, and then put pictures on the inside which show the person you are that people don't see.

What was cool about it was the paper that went along with it. The students had to explain not only what the pictures were and why they chose them, but they had to conclude with a paragraph about what they learned from the experience of creating the box. I thought it was amazing that my son, a freshman, was able to see that people perceive him very differently from how he perceives himself, and he was OK with that. He realized it didn't matter how others saw him.

I mean, how often do we, even as adults, chafe against that? We either seem to try to conform to the 'roles' we've been assigned, or we try to prove that we're not what we seem to be.

I was telling one of my friends about the assignment, and was asked what I'd put on my box, and why. It was an interesting thing to consider.

Of course, Mary Poppins and Bree Van De Kamp (from Desperate Housewives) immediately came to mind. I think for a long time, as a mother I've idealized that role by trying to be very like the world's favorite nanny - Practically Perfect in Every Way. And I've been described by my friends as being Bree, but not just for my red hair. It's not that I'm a perfectionists so much as a planner. I tend to think through events, etc, and take the Girl Scout motto "Be Prepared" to heart. I never travel light, just ask Al! Both of these women are beautiful, smart, strong, and they always seem to have their acts together. They know what they're doing, yet are the penultimate caregivers - with never a hair out of place.

However, if you look at either of those women, they also have their down-sides. They are prim and proper without fail, they can seem to put protocol and etiquette before their emotional needs - almost to a fault. Do they ever let their hair down?

Think of Mary Poppins: she went to Uncle Albert's and had a tea party on the ceiling, singing along, without cracking a smile the entire time. Granted, when she thought it was appropriate, she popped through the chalk picture painting with the children and Bert, singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious all the while. But you still get the impression that she was more of a spectator, facilitating the fun for others, rather than actually experiencing the fun herself. She let go for a while after winning the horse race, but only for a little bit. Then she was back to business.

The same can be said for Bree, but with a slightly sadder twist. In the past few years that the show has been on the air, we've seen Bree be so proper, always with her gift-baskets of fresh-baked muffins, her perfect dinner parties, or with her secret recipe for her lemon meringue pie. Yet, what the outside world didn't see was the inner turmoil of her household, with her unruly children and the family's deep, dark secrets. I'm not saying that I'll cover up for my family; I've been touted as the herald in my extended-family which suffers from what I like to call Three Monkey's Syndrome. If they hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil, then it doesn't exist. Whereas I'm so tired of secrets, at times I seem to air our dirty laundry regardless of who is around. Overcompensating, I guess.

Yet Bree can throw a shindig like no other. That's why I have to be so careful now about what I volunteer to do. Because when I commit, I jump in fully with both feet. I don't do anything halfway. Heck, even going to Disneyland, I put on my Tour Guide Barbie hat and plan out the day so that it runs as smoothly and as perfectly as possible. Like I said, I'm a planner, I'm a helper, and I'm always willing to help out and do more than my share. It's just my nature; I learned it from my mom. In fact, often when I'm involved with an event, it's mom I'll call on to help me out, and there she'll be, doing whatever needs doing, without being asked. See a need, fill a need. Generous to a fault at times.

When it comes to the inside of the box, my first impulse was to say Tinkerbell. She's a cute, fun-loving, impulsive, devil-may-care, mischievous pixie. She's possessive and a bit vain, but also self-conscious (think of her measuring her lovely curvy hips while standing on the hand-mirror.) Besides, I've been known to stomp my foot in frustration on occasion, especially when being teased. Not to mention that she can fly, and with a little bit of her dust, she can help you to fly, too!

I think she represents Fun Me - the Me I'm trying harder and harder to let out for all to see. She's the Glamour Pi who does the Vacation Dance, who laughs so loudly that people turn and look, and who just loves to have fun. She's the one I let out when I went to Disneyland with Al for our birthdays last year. While Tour Guide Barbie had planned things out, she wasn't invited along. I fully participated in the experience, running and laughing all over the Happiest Place on Earth as if I was a kid. No spectator role for me; it was all about embracing the fun in the moment with both arms. We found joy in everything - from growling like bears at Grizzly Peak, laughing until our sides hurt at the picture from the Tower of Terror, clapping like a little girl when the submarine captain wished us Happy Birthday, working the water pump like crazy on Pirate's Lair, singing along on Pirates of the Caribbean, not to mention shouting with glee at the birthday balloons, chocolates and buttons left for us by the housekeeping staff. On that trip, we didn't derive happiness from the experiences in life, but how we experienced life.

There's also the ill me. The one with FM. When I was first diagnosed, I was so happy that, after 17 years of suffering, I finally had a name to what ailed me. I e-mailed my closest friends, and their responses shook me. Some of them were downright shocked, because I'd never, ever shown them anything less than the peppy, 110% energetic, with-it, go-getter. I'd hidden away on the days when the pain hit, or the exhaustion overwhelmed me. When my flare-up occurred in 2005, I couldn't run around like a mad-woman, power-walking all over campus. I struggled to limp across campus, holding back tears as I shopped at Costco. That's the fragile, vulnerable me - the one most people don't see. But it's OK to be weak, to be vulnerable, to need help. To be human instead of Superhuman.

And then there's the yogi. The peaceful me. The calm me. The one who finds that mind-body connection to relax every muscle in my body. The me called upon by my closest friends to reassure them during childbirth, to calm them as they await surgeries. That's the quiet side of me that many don't realize is there, but which gets me through the day.

So what did I learn? Well, I learned that I'm trying to share more of my many sides. Not only do I need to let people see the Mary Poppins and Bree, but I'm trying to expose Tink who is so fun to be with and the FM me who needs help at times. Not to mention sharing the peace, calm and joy that the yogi in me can bring.

Allow me a sappy metaphor:

If we think of ourselves as a precious gemstone with many facets, it's not just one facet that catches the eye, it's the many together which create a dazzling whole, as we catch the light and throw it back into the world.

Be well.

T'is the pirate Cap'n Jack Sparrow! Arrgh!

September 19 is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, so sit back and relax a spell because I'd be havin' a pirate yarn to spin.

(Don't worry, it's too hard to tell the entire story in pirate-speak, so I'll save you the headache of trying to figure out my meaning.)

Before school started, I took the kids on our traditional ‘last summer hurrah’ to Disneyland.

J, D & B

We usually go the Wednesday before Labor Day, as many schools have started back up and the crowds are much smaller. We were lucky and it wasn’t all that hot. We had a great day, as usual. We go to Disneyland a lot, but each time we try to find something special about the trip. This time, it was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Since the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are so popular, they’ve converted Tom Sawyer’s Island into Pirate’s Lair. They’ve added some cool treasure troves, ships and pirate/ghost/skeleton effects all over the island, so it’s even more fun to explore now. Well, the Island’s always been a place for me to take a break; I usually find a place to sit in the shade while the kids run all over the island, checking back in with me every five minutes or so.

B & N in one of the Bone Cages from Pirates 2

On this trip, my daughter B’s friend N and her mom had gone with us. The girls had taken off, and the other mom and I met up with my son D after he’d run around for a bit. We got to the end of the island (or as far as you can go) past the old fort, which is where Jack Sparrow sits among a huge pile of pirate’s treasure. We’d taken turns having our pictures taken with him, and then we were trying to reach the girls on their cell phones so they could come and have their pictures taken, too.

Well, there really wasn’t anyone else around, and Jack was bored, so he came over to us and started chatting us up. He took my camera and started taking pictures of us, himself, and random strangers.

Jack's Self-Portrait

When my son was on the phone with my daughter, Jack asked for the phone, and sure enough, he started talking to B and her friend over the phone. Well, the girls started screaming and screeching, as tween girls will, which Jack thought was funny.

Jack talking to B on D's cell phone.

Upon hearing that shy N wouldn’t come meet him, he asked us where they were. When D said, “At the tree house,” Jack said, “Then off we go!” And before we knew it, we were following Jack Sparrow on a search for my daughter and her friend. It was kind of funny, as he’d have to stop periodically to take a picture or sign an autograph, but he was on a mission and kept pressing on. Before we knew it, we had a small group of people following Jack – not even knowing what he was up to. When we found the girls, N ran away screaming, and Jack chased her down! Which included a rather wild run across the suspended bridge. It was all rather funny (although N was so embarrassed that she didn’t think so), and he took pictures with us and then all of the other folks who had followed him on his chase. I even managed to take some video of the hunt and chase, although I’d turned my phone vertical for some reason, so now I have to put it through some filter so it will show correctly.

It’s adventures like that which make me love going to Disneyland. I mean, how many people have proof that Jack Sparrow hijacked their camera? You usually just get a standard photo, handshake and an autograph.

A Standard Photo

One after a fun chase.

Although we won't be going to Disneyland to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day this year like we did last (because we've already scheduled to go on the 30th when the kids are out of school for Rosh Hashannah), we'll be there in spirit.

Aarrgh, me mateys! So be havin' a fine time using your pirate-speak, because if ye can't laugh, ye'd better have a pint o' grog and and join in the fun, or ye'll be havin' to walk the plank!

Me and the kido's having a ditch day from school to celebrate
International Talk Like A Pirate Day 2007.

Grrrr... Animals!

Last Sunday, my kids and I had a chance to go to the zoo. It was incredibly hot, but I had a great time. Heck, a baby was involved, so it had to be fun! We went with my big sis, my niece, my niece-in-law, and my great-niece. (That's a lot of nieces, especially for someone who has so many nephews!) Care is 18 months and is quite the independent handful. She's beyond confident; she's fearless!

Usually when we hang out with the babies, I'm the one behind the camera, so I don't really spend all that much time interacting with them. Care loves my daughter though, and on this trip she even asked my son to hold her. He didn't quite know what to do,but when she looks at you and says, "Up, pees?" how can you say no?

I was quite excited when she spontaneously held my hand, but I was beside myself when she asked me to hold her. Apparently, even my wide-brimmed hat wasn't enough to scare her off. (I know the photo isn't all that flattering, but it's the only one I got.)

We looked at the lions, the giraffes, monkeys and elephants together. When I asked her if she wanted to see the lions, she growled. When asked what the monkeys say, she said, "Ooh, ooh, ooh!"

Since she's obviously learning her animal sounds, I made sure to teach her a new one. Elephant. Yep, I can trumpet like a heffalump! The first time I did it, Care looked surprised, but after that she watched me intently to see how I did it. Sure enough, within a few minutes she was at it herself - much to her mother's joy. (I didn't want to take on giraffes. Even I'm stumped by that one!)

My kids say I'm baby crazy - mostly because I change the tone of my voice (it gets more high-pitched), speak excitedly, and smile non-stop when interacting with them. If that makes me baby crazy, well, I guess I am. They're just so darn cute! And to me, nothing can beat the sense of trust a little one has when they grasp as many of your fingers as they can wrap their hand around. Wait, I take that back. They can trump that by snuggling their head onto your shoulder as you hold them. It's pure bliss!

Here's Care (with a very dirty face encrusted with sand and blackberries) giving me a hug of her own volition a few weeks ago when we went to the beach. She just melted my heart!

Love to Laugh!

A couple of days ago, my niece-in-law was talking about a post she'd seen on Sweet Juniper and how it had made her crack up. Always up for a laugh, I took a look. Heck, it was worth it just for the picture of this woman's kids alone! But the post itself was so well-written, I was jealous. Heck, it rambled a bit, including plenty of intelligent references and "SAT words", but she brought it back around to a great punch line. She talked about child prodigies, how she hates them, and how her kids would never be one - especially with her as a parent.

And I respect someone who can laugh at themselves.

In fact, I mistrust anyone who can't!

Anytime I come across something I find extremely amusing, I like to share it with those who are near and dear to me. I sent the link to my husband, but he just didn't get it. True, he was in a bit of a mood, and he finds my sense of humor odd even on good days (my family knows to pause the TV or movie if there's anything involving kids and/or animals because I will laugh so loudly and so hard that no one will be able to hear any dialog until I stop), so I wasn't all that surprised. However, later in the day he tried to return the favor by sending me a link to Cake Wrecks.

I didn't get it.

Well, I got it, but it didn't make me laugh. I felt sorry for the bride who had wanted a beautiful tartan wedding cake and got a mound of melted frosting instead. However, I kept reading the post, including the comments, and found that there were quite a few people who thought the site and its contents were truly amusing.

Not being one to give up easily, I started looking around. I checked out the fan favorites, and before you knew it, I was chuckling along. My daughter heard me and came out of her room to investigate. (She said I was keeping her awake, but she was having a sleep-over, so there was no way she was asleep anyway.) So she, her friend, and I all had fun clicking around the site until I finally came across something that made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe.

Now, I know everyone's sense of humor differs, and that different things will strike each of us as funny. But I'm dying to know which of the Cake Wrecks other people (especially those I know) will find amusing.

I'm thinking the Naked Mohawk-Baby Carrot Jockeys got me because the humor level had been a gradually building up as I looked around the site. Or maybe that it was just having to do with babies and food. Or perhaps it was because the cake was obviously one of those big sheets from Costco which is already individually portioned and marked with frosting so everyone gets an equal-sized piece with it's own individual frosting-carrot on top. Or maybe it was simply because someone bought said cake for a baby shower and decided that the way to 'theme it up' for the party was to put little plastic babies on top of the carrots. Someone, somewhere, thought that was a good idea!

But then again, looking at the Play It Again Wrecks, someone thought it was good to make a cake shaped like a bride, or a baby, or even like a pregnant woman's belly. But how is it that taking a round cake, attaching legs to it and making it look like a baby's tush (complete with diaper) sounds good to anyone? I for one do NOT want to eat anything from a diaper - topped with frosting or not! And I am not even going to go near the wart-encrusted feet. You're going to eat THAT?!?

I haven't touched on the cakes with spelling and grammar errors. Mare, you should have fun with those. I particularly liked "Time to Par-tay! Cuz it a gril!"

Now, I know it isn't nice to laugh at other people's misfortunes. However, please keep in mind that these same people are the ones who submitted their cake-tastrophies to the site. Thankfully, somehow, they saw their misfortunes for what they were (bad, yes; life-alteringly tragic, no) and shared them with others simply with the hope that we would laugh with them. And I have to give them credit for that.

Because as I've said before, sometimes if we don't laugh, we'll cry, and I'd much rather laugh than cry!

Eddie, In-Laws & a Spelling Bee

Well, the last two weeks have been just chock full! My in-laws came into town, so we had all the frenzy that getting ready for a visit entails, as well as the visit itself. However, we had a lovely time and were really glad it went well. Not that we expected it not to... but you never know with those things.

My son has spent the summer in a theater arts workshop, which culminated with a performance of "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." What a hilarious play! He played 'Leaf Coneybear', a district runner-up whose technique is to seem completely distracted and scatterbrained until the word comes to him like he's possessed - cross eyed, gruff voice and all. I don't think my son has ever made me laugh so much in his life, and he's usually a pretty funny kid!

But the thing I've been waiting for since February was going to see Eddie Izzard in concert at the Kodak Theater. I've seen him several times, sometimes in rather intimate settings during his work-in-progress, but I've never seen him in a theater as big as that. It was pretty darn amazing.
Here I am in my souvenir t-shirt. In "Dress to Kill," Eddie does a bit about how the Spanish Inquisition never would have worked in Britain. It would have been something like: "Tea and cake or death! Um... cake, please!" So I had to get this shirt.

Of course, to make the evening perfect, Al went with me. I just love having a blast with her! You know it's great when you have a friend you can crack up with, even before the comedy show and without any 'social lubrication.'

After we'd parked the car, we were trying to come up with a mnemonic to remember where we'd parked. Well, it was "3H," so I came up with Hollywood and Highland (where the Kodak is located.) Of course, being downtown Hollywood, it also used to be where 'the ladies of the night' used to work - like in "Pretty Woman." That is, before they cleaned it up and Disney moved into town at the El Capitan Theater across the street. (Yes, Times Square, we Angelenos can sympathize with the Disney sanitizing effect - although I think we like it.) So Al said the only other "H" she could think of was "Ho." We quickly morphed it into "Ho, ho, ho" and went off into peals of laughter. At that very moment, we were approached by some promoter, asking us if we'd been drinking yet that evening. You know, I think he was genuinely surprised when I said "No, I don't drink at all!" He asked, "Really??" To which I replied, "Nope! Not a drop!" I left him standing there with his mouth agape. He didn't know what to say to that! He must have thought we were completely sauced already!

I'm just so lucky to have a friend like Al! We should all be so fortunate to have someone who 'gets us' - laughing at us and with us. Glamour Pi forever!

Earthquake!

So, this last Tuesday, Southern California had its first sizable earthquake in quite some time. A 5.4 quake hit Chino Hills, about 28 miles southeast of downtown LA.

Wouldn't you know it, me, the earthquake baby (the 1971 Sylmar earthquake started mom's labor with me) didn't even feel it! I mean, when the 1994 Northridge quake hit, I was visiting LA for the first time in years since moving away to go to school. (I'd come to town for mom's birthday, actually; we're just a 'natural disaster' birthday family, I guess.)

Everyone has their earthquake stories, though, and our family's were relatively amusing. My husband was on the phone with a client who was having some problem with his computer. He asked the client what he'd done to try to fix the problem himself, and the response was, "Earthquake!" The client was about 10 miles east or so of us, so the quake hit him first. They stayed on the phone for 10 seconds or so (my husband was watching the atomic clock on his computer screen) before they mutually agreed that they should get off the phone and take cover.

Have you ever seen the movie "LA Story" with Steve Martin? There's a scene where they're at a restaurant and an earthquake hits. No one gets up from the table, they all just look around and take guesses at how strong it is. A couple's table shakes by them - the couple eating and drinking as if nothing unusual is happening. While that's taking things to the extreme, it's actually not very far from the truth. Those of us who have ridden out several earthquakes in our lives aren't quite that blase about it, but will often wait to gauge the strength of a quake in order to determine if preventative measures need to be taken to insure our safety.

At the 30 second mark (remember - atomic clock on the computer screen), my husband finally decided that he'd better stand in the doorway. Early on in our marriage, an earthquake hit one Sunday morning while we were still in bed. My mom had trained me well, and I jumped up out of bed and braced myself in the door frame. My husband just watched me from the bed, as I shouted at him to move. He had apparently judged that that particular earthquake didn't call for movement on his part. Sure enough, it wasn't very big, it ended as quickly as it had come, and my husband went back to sleep. Now that I think about it, this happened a couple of other times at our homes in Reno and back down here in LA - he just rode them out. So for this quake to actually spur him to movement meant it was pretty big.

My son was at summer school. No, he didn't need remedial studies; he's taking Theater Arts Workshop. So he and his class were doing a run-through of their play - "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee." Their first indication of the impending quake was the large bay doors rattling. Their teacher - who was watching from the audience - then shouted to the kids to get off the bleachers upon which the 'spellers' were sitting. My son decided to dive under the bleachers, not thinking of the gear swaying over the stage (and his head.) He was well-protected, though. His character happens to have a habit of falling off the bleachers, so he wears a bike helmet on occasion. They'd already passed the point in the run-through where he put on his helmet, so at least his head was covered. He was the last one off the stage - much to his teacher's chagrin - but he did pass through the quake, shaken but unscathed.

However my daughter and I were completely unaware that it had even occurred. I'd just picked her up from acting class (yes, my kids love to act), and was driving her home. In fact, we'd just passed the high school where my son was when it hit. I dropped her off at home and headed out to my massage therapy session. The first I heard of it was when I was on the table and my therapist was asking how I'd handled the quake. Puzzled, I asked her what she was talking about. Apparently, it was severe enough to send the chiropractor, the therapist, and the rest of the staff and patients scurrying outside the building.

All I could say was that I was grateful it had occurred when it did . As it was, I hadn't felt it, and so without my adrenaline pumping, I was able to relax and 'enjoy' my (at times, very painful) massage. If it had struck just 15 minutes later, I would have been on the table, disrobed, and then abandoned by my therapist! I think that therapy session would have been a wash!

Perspective

I was looking around the web this morning, and I realized I hadn't visited the "yeah, Dave yoga" blog in a while.

There I found a post about dealing with tragedy. He was talking about how he dealt with his own emotions about his daily life in relation to huge tragedies like the earthquake in China. When considering your daily stresses like paying the mortgage or doing your job, it pales in comparison with the emotional grief people experience in true tragedies. What got me was the kicker closing paragraphs:

Be nicer, more generous. Love fully, without hesitation. Breathe deeply, slow down.

Human beings are like fragile little ants beneath the furious footsteps we call cyclones and earthquakes. But don't be scared to die. "Everyone dies. Not everyone really lives."

Kinda helps put things into perspective, don't you think? Not only do we need to remember to not be scared to die, but we need to be unafraid of being hurt - much more common occurrence in our daily lives. I need to remember to love fully, without hesitation; I can't allow my experiences to jade me so that I lose that part of myself. Because if I did that, I wouldn't be really living, honoring the core of who I really am - a loving, generous, vivacious, caring person. If others can't truly cherish or appreciate that (or can't reciprocate), it doesn't mean I should stop being who I really am. I must really live my life, without hesitation, without being jaded. If I'm not true to myself, then I'm not really living.

So keep your chin up, smell those daisies, and find those silver linings. Smile, put a twinkle in your eye and a spring in your step. Slow down, breathe deeply. Take in your surroundings and acknowledge the people you brush by throughout the day. Give someone a complement and lift their spirits. We are fantabulous! We are Glamour Pi forever!

Reunion!

This weekend I attended my 20 year high school reunion. I'd gone to my 10 year, and it had been OK, so I was hoping the 20 year would be as good. I was a bit wary, though, as I'd taken a friend with me for the 10 year, and this time I was going stag. (Extrovert marries introvert, proving opposites attract!) I have to give all of the 'significant others' who attended my complements, though, especially if they didn't attend the school. What a fun way to spend the evening - with a bunch of people you've never met before!

Since I'd been to the 10 year, I knew more or less what to expect. You check in, you get your picture taken for the memory book they'll charge you an arm and a leg for later, and then you hit the bar to get a drink and hopefully scan the room for people you recognize.

Well, I'd come prepared. Not only did I dig out my old yearbook (heaven protect us from the styles of the '80s!), but I looked on the official school alumni website as well as Classmates. Not one to do things half-way, I cross referenced the people I remembered on the list with the photos in the yearbook, and vice versa. So I felt pretty well prepared to remember who was who - provided, of course, that people looked anything like they had in high school!

Unfortunately, this year, new arrivals had to 'run the gambit'. After checking in, you had your picture taken for the memory book. But instead of going into another room where it was just you, the photographer, his assistant and anyone else waiting to be photographed, this year the backdrop was set up right next to the registration table in the main hallway of the hotel! So you get there, it's a new situation, you're feeling awkward, and you have to have your picture taken in front of a bunch of strangers! Give me a break!

Well, I got myself set up in my most flattering pose and the photographer gets off a shot. Then he (loudly) tells me to 'work it!' Really?!? I mean, I only have so many poses. It's not like I took modeling classes. Wait a minute! My daughter is taking those right now, and last week when we were trying to pick out a dress for me to wear, she'd shown me what she'd learned. Whew! So quickly scrambling for another pose or two, I move around so the photographer can get off a couple more shots. Then mercifully it's over and the next victim steps up to the camera.

Talk about Kismet! As I'm stuffing my receipts, etc., back into my purse, I happen to look up at the 'new guy'. Hey! I know him! We were on the school paper together! His photo session was mercifully short (no 'work it' yelled to him - I wonder why?) I re-introduce myself and we're off for the evening. Turns out his very pregnant wife sent him out alone, so I have a fellow married person to hang with.

What was amazing to me was realizing the dichotomy of people. Obviously we'd all changed a lot in 20 years, but by the same token, we all had stayed the same! My newspaper buddy and I had spent most of 4th period journalism class yapping about anything and nothing; it was the same through dinner 20 years later. That was the case with just about everyone I spoke to - the dynamics of the relationships we had 20 years ago were still firmly in place, as if we'd just graduated yesterday. I guess I haven't changed much, either, though; while I was in the middle of some enthusiastic retelling of some story or another, I overheard an old friend explaining to someone else that I'd always been that animated.

In short, I had a blast and am so glad I went! I'm really happy with where I am now in life, but it was nice to revisit the past and have a good laugh... or two, or dozen!

Go Al! Woo Hoo!

Well, today my Glamour Pi sister, Al, participated in her first day of the San Francisco Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. I'd been talking about doing it with her, but my fibromyalgia has been flaring up off and on since January, and I felt I needed to get a few good months under my belt before taking on such a commitment.

As it turns out, I got to do some of the walk... sort of. Al was a one-woman team, walking on her own. They started the walk at 7:30 at the Golden Gate Park, walked around some of North San Fran, and then crossed the Golden Gate Bridge to do the majority of the walk in Mill Valley in Marin County. How cool is that?!? They crossed the bridge twice today! Anyway, Al is quite the walker and likes to be near the front away from the pack. So, around 12:15 today, she called my cell for some companionship. I headed out my door for a walk around the neighborhood, and wound up talking and walking with her for over an hour. I may not have been in San Fran walking next to her, but I was here in LA talking and walking as she walked there. Does that count?

I just am so darn proud of Al! She started fund raising at the beginning of June and raised the minimum to participate ($1,800) in a couple of weeks. She's been training on her own and was able to finish the 26 miles today in just about 7 hours. I was bullying her into doing yoga afterwards to keep from getting stiff, but the poor honey called me and let me know she could only do some, as she had blisters on her feet which prevented getting into many of the poses, much less holding them! What a trooper!

Tomorrow she goes for the final 17 miles. I'm looking forward to talking and walking with her again. She's such an inspiration. I really hope I can do it with her next year. I told my daughter about it, and now she says she wants to do it with us, too.

Here's to Al, a true Glamour Pi, leading by example.

Promises, Promises

I like chocolate - dark chocolate. So I'll have a Dove Promise or two (OK, or five) on the occasional evening. Not that they're especially good or anything, but they do the trick when I'm having a chocolate craving.

Anyhow, they have a 'promise' written on the inside of the foil, kind of like a fortune cookie. Al and I had a thing about them in Tahoe; we had to read the 'promise' out loud before eating the chocolate. Since she's not here to read them to, I'll save the 'promises' and then when I have a big enough collection, I to write her about them. So here's the latest batch:

You're allowed to do nothing. This is SO hard for me! And even when I do try, I often feel guilty. Why is that?

Go against the grain. Does doing the Vacation Dance in public qualify here? I think I do this, or at least I do this more now. It's rather liberating to not be embarrassed and just let go!

Learn something from everyone you meet. Good advice, unless you take it literally, then you'd take forever just to get through the supermarket.

Lose yourself in a moment. Now this I have no problem with. I love to be struck by something - a view, my kids laughter - and just pause to take it all in. I think we need to do this more often.

Get your feet massaged. Now THAT's something I can get behind! Boy, do I need a mani-pedi!

Age is nothing but a number. OK, I agree.. somewhat. I mean, I often ask who it was that decided I was the grownup - or at least grown up enough to have kids! I don't feel old.

Listen to your heartbeat and dance. New mom's do this all the time. It's called the 'mommy sway' and it's instinctual. Put a baby or toddler in any mothers arms and she'll start swaying. I actually like it. It's very comforting.

Be mischievous. It feels good. Yeah, it does at times
This pairs well with another:
Smile, people will think you're up to something. And that can be very intriguing to some!
It also can go with this:
Wink at someone driving past today. That can be fun, too! As long as you use discretion and don't wind up with some stalker...

Make your eyes twinkle. I love to have the excuse or reason to do this! Talk about getting looks!

Flirting is mandatory. Thank goodness, or else I'd be branded with a big F! I think I'm just being friendly (or gregarious), but I've been told it can be perceived as flirting. It's just part of my nature, it seems!

Follow your instincts. NOT the 2% of doubt in your gut, but your instincts. Now, if I could just learn to keep these things separate, I should be OK.

Be fearless. Easier said than done at times, but good advice, nonetheless - remember, that's one word!

Discover yourself. I think this one is very important. I mean, how often do we find ourselves lost in some role or set of expectations we've foisted on ourselves? You know, the role of parent, child, friend, etc., when we don't feel like we're being our true selves. Dangerous stuff, that. Something I'm trying to break free of.

Live your dreams. Hmmm. Good advice, but difficult to follow. I'm working on that one, actually. It's the figuring out the dream part that can be tough, though.

If they can do it, you know you can. Also good to remember.

Make 'someday' today. I think I've been embracing this one a lot. Talk Like A Pirate Day, Trick-or-Treating, etc. You never know what opportunities are going to come your way again, so you'd better seize them when you have the chance.

Go to your special place. Yes, when I need to relax, I definitely do this. Yoga, Tahoe or Disneyland...

Remember your first everything. Oh, I think I do that well enough. I've been accused of having an encyclopedic memory at times.

Sometimes one smile means more than a dozen roses. Especially if it's from the right person.

Love without rules. Very important, as sometimes our rules can seem completely arbitrary to the ones we love.

Smile before bed. You'll sleep better. Really? You think? But who is going to put that smile there??

Whisper in the dark. I do this all the time. You just can't share a bed or a room with someone and not talk after the lights go out. It's just weird not to. "Good night, Johnboy!"

Naughty can be nice. Oh yeah!

Woo Hoo! That's it! Now I don't have to dust around the little red foils any more! Hope you liked these little tidbits of chocolate advice. As my son would say, "I like chocolate milk!" Well, not so much the 'milk' part for me.

LA Sight Seeing

I went to the grocery store the other day and was talking to Al on the phone as I shopped. It's obnoxious, I know, but as a working mom, you take the moments to catch up with friends whenever you can get them.

As I was walking around the store, I caught sight of this one woman and could not help but start chuckling. Being in the Valley, you often run into people who are in the movie industry or rather, the other movie industry. Sometimes, like today, I wonder if it isn't a place for ladies from the latter to retire when they're 'past the working age.'

Anyhow, this woman was one of them. It was obvious by the state of her skin that she was of retirement age. Definitely in her 40's at least. However, it was her apparel (and what was under it) which caught my eye - and the eye of every other person in the place. Normally, women's t-shirts have a variety of different cuts. There's the classic crew-neck, boat-neck, scoop-neck, or v-neck. I found a new classification: v-boob. This woman was wearing a shirt under which most women would wear a tank. However, she opted out on that, and, as a result of the missing tank and her 'bodacious ta-ta's' (as dad would say), I was seeing far more of her cleavage than I even see of my own!

However, that was nothing new. You see that all the time around here. What cracked me up (sorry for the pun) was the rear-view. A couple of years back, the trend was for velor sweat-pants, some of which were sold ultra-low rise. This femme was wearing such low-rise low-rises that not only did her shirt sit above her waistline so she could show off her tramp stamp, but her pants showed a fair amount of coin slot - without her bending over! So she had cleavage coming and going!

I don't know why that particular sight amused me so much, but it did. I laughed and laughed to Al! I was so thankful that I should come across such a sight when I could share it with a friend who could appreciate it as much as I did!

But the kicker was after I hung up the phone and went to check out. The lady-in-question was in line in front of me. However, there was a cute young couple between us - husband and wife. He was doing the most amazing job of NOT looking at 'the lady in black' that I wanted to give him a high-five! Now, his wife was lovely; tall, thin, not an ounce of fat on her, shapely, blonde, etc. But upstairs, she was built like a surfboard next to this other woman. The guy came up with what I thought was a great way to keep from looking; he stood between the woman and his wife. This meant he had his back to the woman while he talked with his wife, which also meant his wife would be the one to get distracted and sneak peeks instead of him. Kudos!!

I do have to say that 'the lady in black' was obviously comfortable in her own skin. She'd made a considerable investment in her physique, and was comfortable and confident about showing it off. Good for her!

Beautiful from the inside out*

I wanted to take a little time to clarify the Glamour Pi motto: Beautiful from the inside out!*
*...which includes our underwear!

I realized that to some, that may sound completely superficial. In fact, it's meant to be just the opposite. What we're really focusing on is not just what people see - everything from our exterior to our personalities - but that which is not seen - from our underwear to the very core of our beings. That may sound like a tall order, but when we focus on improving our attitudes and perceptions about the world and our place in it, we can transform all of those negative (or ugly) nuggets into more positive (beautiful) thoughts and feelings.

An example of this is the television show "How to look good...Naked!" on Lifetime. It turns out that's the show I saw being taped when I went to the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica with my niece and sister last August. During that evening, I pointed out the guy Carson from "Queer Eye". Also, when I watched my first episode, I found out why we had seen a picture of a nearly-naked woman (without a head) being projected up onto the side of a building - it's part of the show!

Anyway, I don't know if you've already caught it or not (especially since I recently saw a promo for an episode of Oprah where she was having Carson as her guest), but I highly recommend it. In it, Carson takes a 'real woman' (meaning, someone who is definitely not model thin, but who also has body image issues) and spends 5 days to help them feel better about themselves. It has a wonderful message that I totally get behind. He starts the show by saying:

Hello Ladies! I'm here to begin a perception revolution! Join me if you think that beauty extends beyond a size zero. Come along with me if you don't want to be like four out of five women who hate their bodies. Unite if you're ready to turn body loathing into body loving. It's time to start shedding those layers, because I don't want you to just accept what you see in the mirror. I don't want you to just like what you see in the mirror. I want you to flaunt it... Naked!!

The central concept is simple: take women's negative perceptions of themselves, have them look at themselves realistically, and then help them feel comfortable in the skin that they're in. Being a stylist, of course he helps them with clothing choices, but he's not pushing diet, exercising or lifestyle choices. It's all about becoming comfortable, happy and confident with what you have. He spends a good deal of time getting the right foundation (bras & panties) for them, saying that it's important to feel confident in how you feel in your underwear, because everything that goes on top will look so much better because they've perfected her shape with the right foundation. (Not to mention that if you feel good in your underwear, not to mention your clothes, you exude confidence, which is sexy!) I've been trying to explain this concept for years, and it's the reason I say 'beautiful from the inside out' - not just in personality, but in clothing, too.

From the episodes I've seen, I think it's a great show with a fantastic message. And I definitely think it's a message we need to be communicating to our teen/tween daughters. Not everybody is going to look like the models in the magazines - including the models, thanks to airbrushing. But we're all beautiful.

Dave Gorman's Wisdom

One of my favorite authors to read lately is Dave Gorman. All of his books fall into the genre of 'comedic travel journalism.' Yeah, you didn't know there was such a genre, did you? It's silly stuff, really, and some people may not get it. He's British (of course), but he's positive and optimistic, and he has a way of phrasing things that has made me convulse with suppressed laughter in my dentist's waiting room. Those of you who know me know that when I laugh, I laugh LOUDLY, so suppressing it is quite the trick. Some people may not appreciate his books about odd topics (finding 54 other people who share his name, or finding a string of Googlewhacks), but I find it gives me hope to know that such people exist. Wouldn't it be great to know that your purpose in life was to make other people laugh? That that was your job? What a fantastic thing!

I just recently finished his third book - "America Unchained." This one was "a freewheeling road trip in search of non-corporate U.S.A." Basically, after doing a four-month tour of his one-man show which left him completely disgusted with the 'sameness' of U.S. hotel and food chains, he went in search of the real, personal, 'mom and pop' U.S.A. He flew to LA to buy a car and travel across the country, not using branded fuel, branded hotels, branded food, or branded car repair. But the trip was also a road to self discovery for him, and he had some fantastic thoughts upon his completion.



This is the part I wanted to quote at present:

"Twenty years ago a journey like ours would have been easy. I can't help thinking that in 20 years' time it might just be impossible. It's a shame because these places - the good and the bad - are truer to the American spirit than anything the faceless, bland and acceptably average corporations have to offer. The chains offer us a world in which average things are guaranteed... I'd rather live in a world in which fabulous things are possible. I'll take a roller coaster instead of a train... I'd driven nearly 7,000 miles in order to cross a country less than 3,000 miles wide. It had been a journey with as many ups and downs, but in that instant I couldn't summon up one ounce of regret. That was when I knew I hadn't just worked out what it was I wanted America to be... I'd discovered what I wanted me to be. I wanted to live my life with passion. I wanted to aim high and make mistakes. I want to be a roller coaster and not a train... The final drips of happiness filled me up and confirmed for me something I'd known since day one. You don't need a convertible to feel the wind in your hair. You don't even need wind. Or hair. It's not a physical sensation, it's a state of mind. I want to live a passionate life. I always want to feel the wind in my hair."

And I think that pretty much sums up what so many people (including myself) have been looking for, too. We hear all the time that people want to 'live a passionate life' or 'be in the moment.' But isn't what they're saying is that they want to feel life, to really experience it, rather than just to muddle along, day to day?

I think it's human nature to want to feel that passion, that electricity, that hope and happiness. But to be on a roller-coaster instead of a train means we have to have our share of downs as well as ups. I've heard it said that you have to experience the sorrows in order to fully appreciate the joys. Heck, I think we all know that. Just when it comes time, it can be a hard pill to swallow.

I know the roller coaster of emotions that life's experiences brings can drive me absolutely batty. However, isn't that part of what makes life worth experiencing and what makes us who we are?

The point is, if we expect the safe sameness out of life (or chains), we are by default giving up the chance for truly extraordinary experiences - whether they be successes or failures.

I can't get excited by a bird singing outside my window, leaves dancing in the wind, or the moon shining on me and not get upset in equal measures at times, too. I can dance the vacation dance, sing in a parking lot, and love passionately, all because I can also have those low days where my spirits are in a slump, where everything goes wrong, or when there's truly a reason to grieve. I can cry at a Hallmark commercial if the scene is right (I'm alone, my hormones are just so, and the topic hits home), but I can also laugh myself breathless over a dog tangled up in a sheet.

So, all that to say, thanks, Dave. I'll take the roller coaster instead of the train, too. I can only hope that the happiness far outweighs the sad.

Some Days Are Like That...

I've wanted to have a blog for a while now - three years to be exact. In May of '05, an age ago, I had a terrible day. It was so bad, in fact, that I found it comical and decided to write to my friends about it. If I'd had a blog then, this would have been my first post. So, when I finally started one, I knew this entry had to be included. Thank you for your indulgence.

Part of being a Glamour Pi means helping your sisters find the silver linings in the storm clouds of life. I've been known to have a bubbly persona and to always try to find the bright side of things (or at least be able to point out how much worse it could be), and I think this is a good illustration of that.

Have you read the book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" by Judith Viorst? Well, it's about this boy who is the youngest of 3 brothers who has a really, really, crappy day.

From the moment he wakes up with gum in his hair, things just do not go Alexander's way. At breakfast, Alexander's brothers Nick and Anthony reach into their cereal boxes and pull out amazing prizes, while all Alexander ends up with is . . . cereal. The situation does not get any better at school, in fact it gets worse. No wonder Alexander wants to move to Australia ! In Australia , everything is upside down, so maybe a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day can become a wonderful, terrific, really good day. After school, Alexander encounters even more bad news when he visits the dentist and goes shopping for sneakers with his mother and brothers. And Alexander's father isn't at all happy with him when the boys visit his office and Alexander gets a little carried away with the new copying machine! This terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day is enough to make anyone want to go to Australia !

Well, anyone that would be me. It's only 9am and I already want to move to Australia . Have you seen that "Got Milk" commercial that touts the claim that milk helps prevent symptoms of PMS? You'd think that after having been together for 16 years, my husband would learn when to keep his mouth shut. Long story short, the ad came on while we were getting ready this morning, and he commented about how funny the ad was. I figured I'd let it pass by, until he added, "But it's totally untrue!" Now, given how much milk I consume, I took great offense to that statement, and a magnificent row ensued. Hence the beginning of my no good, very bad day.

It only got worse. Today is Teacher/Staff Appreciation Day, so I had promised to be at 8 am lineup with the pots and cards the other room parents decided I was more artistically inclined to create. Normally, this wouldn't have been (much of) a problem (given my propensity for tardiness), but the morning domestic altercation had consumed much more time than I had anticipated. In any case, it was a great stretch for my pride to ask my husband to help by taking the kids to the lineup. It kind of puts a damper in the cold-shoulder treatment when you have to request assistance from the person you're freezing, you know? Anyway, on my way to school, my cell phone rang with the obligatory guilt-ridden "Where are you? I'm the only parent that showed up!" call from one of the two other room parents. Now to make me feel more guilty, this is from the recently-widowed mom who has 3 kids (one of whom has special needs) but still manages to walk her kids to school on time every day (a task that I resolve to accomplish every year, but fail to do on anything resembling a regular basis.)

Well, the gift delivery went well, and the teachers really felt appreciated. That is, until D's teacher asked if it was a day of appreciation or a whole week. You see, in the past, it has been a whole week, but there's been a movement to make it a single day. Given the amount of work it takes to coordinate a week of thanks and the amount of teeth-pulling involved to get 5th graders to communicate information to their parents, much less get the parents involved, I, along with the other two room parents, was more than willing to cut back to a single day instead of a whole week's events. Although this is reasonable, my conscience pointed out that it's not the 5th grade teachers' fault that by the time the students are in 5th grade their parents are so burnt out and jaded that the teachers always get the shaft. I mean, every single year the kindergarten teachers get a full brunch hosted by the parents along with a week of gifts from every student. This year, thanks to my brilliant idea, we had the students use paint pens and sign a big ceramic pot that I decorated with a "thank you" from the students, and we planted a mini rose bush in each pot. Now, last night we decided there needed to be something else to go along with it, so we got them Starbuck's and bagels along with thank you cards. Oh well!

In any case, I've been a bit unwell, so running up and down the staircase to the classrooms 4 times carrying 20 lb pots didn't help. Then, on my way to work, I called my mom and had a thoroughly frustrating conversation. Which, of course, made me feel guilty for getting frustrated with her (and snippy). So, as I was getting out of the car carrying the breakfast I didn't have time to eat at home, I kicked the door closed with one foot - promptly slamming it into the other leg, which caused me to jump and spill coffee (very HOT coffee) on my boob!

I'm having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day!!! I think I'll move to Australia! However, in the story, just as Alexander is going to bed (without the kitty who wants to sleep with his brother, without the Mickey Mouse night light that is burnt out, and in the railroad train pajamas that he hates), his mother wisely notes that some days are like that, even in Australia.

Given our "grass is greener" complex, I hope that you can find some enjoyment in my misery; as we say, it could always be worse! I hope you have a wonderful, terrific, really good, fantabulous day! We all work very hard to be the best women we can be, and even though sometimes it's hard to see the beauty and goodness in ourselves, know that your sisters see it and appreciate it.