"Some Dudes" are having the Best Week Ever

Because, apparently, they feel that they may perch their cars wherever they please, no matter how much of an inconvenience or illegality it is!

Scene #1: I parked in front of the supermarket, then walked across the large shopping center, Hayden in stroller, to get some coffee. (Why re-park, right?) On my way back from getting coffee, I prepared to roll off of the sidewalk into the walking path that traverses the busy, busy road through the parking lot. Note that the walking path is for pedestrians only, and is surrounded on both sides by disabled parking spaces.

And there, parked, blocking the pathway, edging into the disable spots with his fenders fore and aft, just barely covering the huge, white capital letters stating DO NOT BLOCK, was Some Dude in a Minivan. What's worse, I notice he's texting. Or something. I give him the staredown and mental vibes. Doesn't look up. Cars start piling up behind him before venturing blindly around him, hoping the oncoming traffic won't hit them. Still doesn't look up. I walk up to his window. Still doesn't look up. I'm wondering at this point if he's dead, eyes open. But wait! Arm movement!

So I weigh the options - behind him or in front of him? Which will least likely cause the death of my child as I venture around this creep? I decide "front". I cross the walkway, then look back. Dude still hasn't moved.


Scene #2: So I go back to the store, do my shopping, and pack up the car. As I prepare to back out, I see Some Dude in a Sedan. He's parked behind me, at a red curb, marked FIRE LANE - NO STOPPING AT ANY TIME, and blocking a fire hydrant. So I proceed to slowly pull out... Dude doesn't move. Watching for oncoming traffic, I pull out further. Dude finally gets off his cell phone, juggles it in the air as he tries not to drop it while starting his car and throwing it into reverse before I flatten his car with mine. Luckily, there were no other cars or pedestrians behind him, as he didn't bother to look. Tragedy averted!

Some Dudes - you're making men look bad! Shame, shame!

Oversmurfed at the park

This is just what I want to hear while walking with my kids. (Actually, I had to hide my little fit of laughter as we walked by.)

Four boys, aged approximately thirteen years old, had abandoned their bike to play on the swings.

Boy #1 (smirkily): So, Adam, have you had your... first experience?

Boy #2 (confused): First experience with what?

Boy #3: Yeah - with a Smurf doll!

Adam: That's right - my first experience was with a Smurf doll, some honey, and a roll of toilet paper!

...

Boy, am I glad I didn't know my husband at thirteen!

Ouch!

So this video is almost a year old, but it's SOOOO cute. And the number of spoofs it's unleashed is unreal. Kids being kids!

Overheard... locally

I enjoy reading Overheard Everywhere (though the original is still the best). This local tidbit made me smile! (And if you don't know what the Castro is famous for... Google it!)



Automated train station announcement: Castro street station.

Excited little girl: Yay! Castro!

Bystander: The dictator or the district?

Excited little girl thinks for a second: The rainbows!


Castro Street Station
San Francisco, California
Overheard by: Dawn

Overheard at the Park

Mom, picking up plastic and rubber balls in the sandbox, to another mom:

"My son's the one who keeps grabbing your son's balls."

Oh. My. God.

Anyone who really knows me knows these things about me:

(1) I am totally phobic about food storage and food preparation. I am convinced that everything will give me food poisoning.

(2) I love to bake.

(3) I'm a stickler for punctuation.

(4) I know way too much about desert tortoises and will tell you about them until you are sorry that you asked.

This post only concerns the first two bulletpoints, though.

My cousin Amy recently blogged about this charming episode.

It should be noted that the original poster, when determining that perhaps this cake mix was "only sold in the U.S.", neglected to notice that the box has "flavor" spelled with a "u" and that the weight on the box is listed in grams, not ounces. Thus... it's pr'y not American.

Note also that I didn't change the original poster's interesting punctuation and spelling choices. Okay, fine... I changed one misspelled word. I couldn't help myself!

I can only hope that this is a totally fake story.

Anyway.... enjoy! Try not to throw up in your mouth!


Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Too Good NOT to post!

A nice post from a blog that my friend Brian (Heather's Husband), found on a website.
Good God. Have you ever done something you thought was ‘normal’, and then found out about how bad it was later? Much to your horror?

Meet the 17 Year Old Cake.



Gather around my children and I shall tell you a tale.

My friend had received a cake mix in a food donation box she was given around Christmas or so. Many destitute people in our area receive them, and think nothing of them. The odd time, you’ll find an expired/near-expired food item, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.

One day, while in a raging-afternoon hunger, we decided to make said pudding cake to quell said hunger.

Preparation was the same as any pudding cake, as were the ingredients. After a brief wait, the cake had cooled and was ready to be eaten. I walked up to it and commented on how it smelled of cherry Jell-O. I suppse this shoudln’t have been a surprise, as the ’sauce’ that is sprinkled on it while baking was reminiscent texture-wise of Cherry Jell-O powder.

We each dug out a bowlful, and began to chow down. I don’t think I managed more than three bites, and my friend managed even less. We thought it was just awful.

“It tastes like cough syrup.”
“This is nasty.”
“At least my cold went away.”
We disposed of the nastiness that was Robin Hood Cherry Pudding Cake, and then it hit me.
“Grace?”
“Mmnn?”
“Why have I never seen this cake in the stores?”
“Beats me. I checked the box. There’s no expiry date.”

It was true. After scanning the box several thorough times, there was nothing. Not even a lot number. I was now officially paranoid. I decided to do some research on the internet for this cake. Perhaps they only sold it in the US?

No luck. There wasn’t even a mention of this cake anywhere online. Not on the Robin Hood site, nor Wiki, nor Google. (I e-mailed Robin Hood to inquire about the cake, but to this day, I’ve never received a response.)

The only real identifying mark on the box, was the company address. I decided to do a Google search on that. Much to my dismay, I discovered something shocking. The last time that company worked from that address, was in 1989.

1989.
The cake was from 1989. At LEAST. That was the LAST the company was at that address. So the cake was at least 17 years old.

Blech.

I can honestly say, that was one hell of a cake. I suppose it wasn’t BAD for 17 year old cake mix. But good god. Who donated that thinking of how old it was? Perhaps it was donated after some old broad died and they cleared out her cupboards.
-shudders- If you ever come upon something questionable, do us all a favor and throw it out. Please don’t donate it.
-wince-

American Idol, here we come

Colin has taken to making up songs now. This little ditty, sung to the tune of "Frere Jacques", was debuted today, on the swings at the park, and name-drops two friends of his from school. Sing along!

I saw spider, I saw spider
Dormez nous? Dormez nous?
Who will touch the spider? Who will touch the spider?
Colby and Chase! Colby and Chase!

Somewhere in Orange County, a math teacher silently weeps

My neighbor, a really cool woman, has just had it with her job. She wants to "stay home" (as if you ever do!) with her kids, help her husband with his business, and get the house cleaned up. She's tired of tripping over crap, tired of staying up past midnight to get everything done, tired of going in to work. How tired? Check out this phone conversation from four o'clock this afternoon...


Neighbor: I need to use this Dell coupon before midnight.

Me: Oh, okay.

Neighbor: It expires at midnight Eastern Time... damn, it's pr'y too late.

Me (after a pause): No, it's okay - that's 9 p.m. our time.

Neighbor: Even after the time change?


Hang in there until July, Neighbor Friend! You can make it!

Twelve years posting... and counting

I just realized the other day that I put up my first website in Spring 1996 as part of a computer sciences class I was taking in college. I started posting "linguistic rants" every month and continued to do so for years. It was arduous work, let me tell you; "blogging" as we know it now, in its easy-to-post format, didn't exist! (And I was just barely out of using a text-based browser... oh my God.) Memories!

That's French for "biting off more than you can chew"

Colin prepares for National Library Week (April 13-19) with some light reading.

How you know someone's an engineer and has played "Dark Side of the Moon" while watching "The Wizard of Oz"

We were at Outback Steakhouse tonight. Colin and I were outside, and he noticed a landscape light in the garden, pointed right up to the sky.

Colin: Mommy, look - a light!

Me: Wow, yeah.

Nerdy engineer eavesdropping on our conversation, to Colin: Yeah, that's so if you want to lay on the sky, you can read a book upside down.

Colin: (silent blank stare)

How You Can Tell That Someone Is an Engineer and English Is Not Their First Language

Overheard at the YMCA tonight:

"Yeah, you need real weights. Nothing's like the real Dr. McCoy."

At least she got paid...

Got into a conversation with two women at the chiropractic office regarding why we are named what we are. (Got that?)

One woman said, "I've never liked my name. It's 'Marsha'. I asked my mom years and years ago about why she named me that. Apparently, there was a young woman in our town who was beautiful and always had a lot of boyfriends. She was quite popular. Her name was 'Marsha', so my mom chose the name for me."

"Well, that's nice," the other woman and I conceded.

"Yes," she continued, "But years later, I wanted to find out what happened to Marsha. Well, I found out why she was so popular. Marsha was a hooker! My mother named me after a hooker!"

Ah, hindsight...

I am not kidding you

On a coffee run this morning, I noticed the "Employee of the Month" for March 2008 is....

Rich Folk.

That's right, Rich Folk.

Reminds me of a girl I went to school with, Penelope Banks. Who went by "Penny". Penny Banks.

Ka-ching!

My little love!

A photo from July - but just recently received; we attended a housewarming/anniversary party on July 4th at our acquaintances' beautiful new mansion. Colin was tasting chocolate milk for the first time... and wouldn't even put the box down for a professional photographer! I laugh whenever I see this pic.

Anyway...

This evening, Colin and I were playing with trains while Matt watched. Colin started climbing up onto my lap.

"Mommy... Mommy..." he said.

"What, Colin?"

"I want hold you." (That means "I want you to hold me.")

"Okay, I can hold you."

He looked at me, smiled softly, threw his arms around my neck, and said, "Mommy, best friend, everything."

Needless to say, he got a HUGE hug!

Maybe I should just call him "Poops"

When Colin was a baby - besides calling him "Mijo" - I would call him "Poops". Because that's what he did. A lot.

Matt told me, "Call him 'Mijo' - but please don't call him 'Poops'! He can't go to high school with that as his nickname!"

So Colin, Hayden and I were at the park on Friday. He's in the sandbox, and I see him put something in his mouth. I shout, "Colin! Colin! Don't put that in your mouth! Take it out!" (He does.) "Don't put stuff in your mouth, Colin!" (He then sticks his tongue out to lick the item - hey, he was following directions, right?) "Colin! That doesn't mean lick it! Out!"

This little boy - between three and four years old - starts bawling suddenly. He gets up, clutching his ice cream, cries and cries while looking at me and barreling toward his mother. His mother looks at me and says, "His name is Colin also."

Poor kid thought this strange lady was yelling at HIM, telling HIM to take his ice cream out of his mouth.

What ever happened to making eye contact?

In any case... for "Colin" not being an incredibly popular name, that was quite a coincidence. And kinda funny.

I mean sad. Right? (WINK!)

Still rolling along

Miss Hayden has started social smiling as of last week (four weeks old). She's also going 4-6 hours between bottles at night (hurrah!) as of 2.5 weeks.

What a change from last time! (Don't tell Colin I said that.)

Colin is feeling better after his bout of brochiolitis; I am dying to get back to dance class; and we're rooting like crazy for this guy on "American Idol".

I'm also trying to figure out how to work a minimal amount of hours starting April 1.

Am I starting to enjoy this stay-at-home-mom-thing a little too much?


Let's just say that raising kids is WAY harder than working (well, most jobs, I suppose). But being at work, while rewarding - and a nice break! - isn't as great as seeing these lovely faces and interacting with them.

Speaking of interacting, the other day Colin and I were playing with trains (my new addiction!). I said to Hayden, "What is your big brother going to do with that curved track?" Colin looked at me seriously and said, "Hayden not to talk, Mommy."

Duh, Mom! She's only a month old!

"Mommy, Colin, Baby Sister... everybody LOVE."

Colin proclaimed this while giving us a group hug. Yes, the sibling revelry continues. And this, while he's on at least three different medicines (including 4x/day nebulizer treatments) for brochiolitis. (And I'm stressing about how to keep Hayden well, when Colin keeps trying to show his love for her!)

2008, so far, has been a banner health year for dear Colin!

It can only get better from here, right?

In the meantime, I'm still learning how to do things like make dinner or leave the house with an infant and a toddler. I've also discovered that I can't go to the supermarket unless Colin's at school, because an infant seat and a child cannot fit in a supermarket cart at the same time... unless you're not planning on getting any groceries.

When Colin was an infant, the shopping carts were just being changed over from "put your infant car seat up here, in front of you" to "we don't want your business, because infant car seats don't fit on our new carts, so screw you!"

So, naturally, I bought a new infant sling (because I can't find my New Native Carrier! BOO!) that I can carry Hayden in while Colin rides in the cart. It's a pink and chocolate Peanut Shell, and now I feel rather saucy!

Whatwhat?

So, I've been sitting on the news that my cousin (and fellow blogger) is pregnant for, like, at least a week. Once she announced it to her family this past weekend at her son's first birthday party, I was allowed to tell family members. But I didn't, because I wanted to know how far along she was. She was guessing about 15 weeks, and was excited that she might be all the way through her first trimester (because she was so sick with her son).

She called me yesterday with the results of her ultrasound.

Turns out she's SIX AND A HALF MONTHS PREGNANT.

Bet I can't tell the story like she can!

Jina hits Kigali

This is Jina. Actually, this is Jina making Colin fall in love with her.

I've known Jina longer than I've known my husband. She's also six years younger than I am, but that doesn't seem to matter.

She's also a total smartie. I'm not kidding you.

She just sent me a great e-mail from Kigali. That's right, the Kigali that's in Rwanda. She's a journalist, so she travels all over the place, writing about exciting things. We were lucky enough to have her visit us just a few weeks ago, when I was thisclose to giving birth to Hayden. She played with Colin and worked her voodoo that she do on him, and we had a lot of fun (when I wasn't complaining about being pregnant).

Check out her blog, and if you have time, see all the things she's written for the CS Monitor (BTW, the story about the human rights statistician was one of the stories she was doing interviews for when she visited us!) or take a look at this old article on her that I'm sure she'll just LOVE you looking at.