Dear Friends, Family and Random Internet People;
If ever you decide to use your air pop popcorn popper, only to discover that the little protective hood has gone missing (probably during your epic cross-country move), do not decide that it "will be fine". It will not be fine. You will find yourself frantically trying to corral renegade popcorn into a bowl. The popcorn will not want to be corraled. As you attempt the impossible, a renegade, scalding hot kernal of unpopped popcorn will fly through the air and directly down the gaping top of your peasant blouse, where it will become logged between your bra and very sensitive parts of your body. You will then screech loudly and give up trying to corral the popped popcorn and will instead begin a rather tragic dance routine as you try desperately to remove said scalding hot un-popped kernal of popcorn from your clothes. Whilst you are performing your audition for "So You Think You Can Dance: Popcorn Edition", the popper will continue to pop the popcorn. But you will not be there to corral it. The popcorn will, in fact, hit the ceiling and walls and floor and, yes, even you. And then, you will finally get the popcorn out of your bra. It will have left blisters. Painful blisters. In unmentionable places. You will be sad. Just don't do it. Don't. Do. It.
With regret,
Erin
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I am a menace...
Hello Internet Friends and Strangers! We survived our time with Intrepid Spouseman away and he returned(despite my best efforts to run him over with our car...more on that later) safe and sound. Levi is in heaven, now that his best friend in the whole world is back, but none too pleased when Isaac leaves for work in the mornings. At least he's only gone for a few hours and when he comes home Levi is just beside himself with glee. It makes me happy. However, all of this happiness nearly did not happen since I nearly squished Levi's best friend in the entire world in a parking lot on post. In my defense, it was 100% an accident. That, however, is my only defense and Intrepid Spouseman is alive and well only by a small miracle (that miracle being that I slammed on the brakes before squishing him). You, dear internet friends and strangers, are probably wondering what on earth I was doing in a parking lot near enough to I.S. to nearly squish him, if I.S. was supposed to be away at survival training. An excellent question. I shall explain.
I was driving down the road towards the gas station on post. This road happens to go right by the cafeteria which is used occassionally by those in training. As I drove past, I saw two big busses, of the sort used to shuttle various training classes hither and yon, parked in the parking lot and realized that the only people who would be at the cafeteria in big busses at that point would be Intrepid Spouseman's class. I about had a heart attack and then drove around the block six times trying to decide what to do. Since they were inside I knew they'd have to come out eventually and I really, really wanted to see I.S. BUT. I didn't want him to see me. He was still in training and I didn't want to distract him. On about lap number 4, I decided to be stealthy. After 2 more laps, I had a fool-proof plan. Sort of. I parked in the parking lot behind a large, puffy shrub. I know, I'm so brilliant. What could possibly go wrong with such an intricate and well-thought out plan? We waited in the car, Levi and I, and soon enough they all came out and there he was! I was feeling quite proud of myself and my amazing undercover skills. Quite pleased with myself, indeed. Right up until I realized that Spouseman was going to walk right in front of the car and see us. I kind of panicked and pulled out, intending to turn to the right to drive out of the parking lot away from the guys coming out of the cafeteria. Only, I wasn't really thinking clearly and I turned left-directly in front of him. Much slamming of breaks. Much screeching. Near-heart attack. Of course he saw me (which was exactly what I didn't want) and I panicked again. My brilliant solution? I kept driving (DON'T JUDGE.). But, I was so totally freaked out that I wasn't watching closely and nearly ran over a second group of guys in Spouseman's class. More slamming of breaks. More screeching. More heart-attacks. They'd survived ridiculously difficult training and I nearly took out a half-dozen of them in one fell swoop in the stupid cafeteria parking lot shortly before they were meant to go home. Clearly, I was not meant to be a spy. Or an undercover cop. Or anything else that requires me to be even marginally stealthy. By the time I made it out of the parking lot (without killing or maiming anyone) I was so completely out of it that I drove straight home. I'd been home about 20 minutes when realized I never did make it to the gas station.
Despite this brush with death, he finished the training, made it home and all is well! Yay for us!
I was driving down the road towards the gas station on post. This road happens to go right by the cafeteria which is used occassionally by those in training. As I drove past, I saw two big busses, of the sort used to shuttle various training classes hither and yon, parked in the parking lot and realized that the only people who would be at the cafeteria in big busses at that point would be Intrepid Spouseman's class. I about had a heart attack and then drove around the block six times trying to decide what to do. Since they were inside I knew they'd have to come out eventually and I really, really wanted to see I.S. BUT. I didn't want him to see me. He was still in training and I didn't want to distract him. On about lap number 4, I decided to be stealthy. After 2 more laps, I had a fool-proof plan. Sort of. I parked in the parking lot behind a large, puffy shrub. I know, I'm so brilliant. What could possibly go wrong with such an intricate and well-thought out plan? We waited in the car, Levi and I, and soon enough they all came out and there he was! I was feeling quite proud of myself and my amazing undercover skills. Quite pleased with myself, indeed. Right up until I realized that Spouseman was going to walk right in front of the car and see us. I kind of panicked and pulled out, intending to turn to the right to drive out of the parking lot away from the guys coming out of the cafeteria. Only, I wasn't really thinking clearly and I turned left-directly in front of him. Much slamming of breaks. Much screeching. Near-heart attack. Of course he saw me (which was exactly what I didn't want) and I panicked again. My brilliant solution? I kept driving (DON'T JUDGE.). But, I was so totally freaked out that I wasn't watching closely and nearly ran over a second group of guys in Spouseman's class. More slamming of breaks. More screeching. More heart-attacks. They'd survived ridiculously difficult training and I nearly took out a half-dozen of them in one fell swoop in the stupid cafeteria parking lot shortly before they were meant to go home. Clearly, I was not meant to be a spy. Or an undercover cop. Or anything else that requires me to be even marginally stealthy. By the time I made it out of the parking lot (without killing or maiming anyone) I was so completely out of it that I drove straight home. I'd been home about 20 minutes when realized I never did make it to the gas station.
Despite this brush with death, he finished the training, made it home and all is well! Yay for us!
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Tuesday Thoughts
Subtitle: The Disjointed Ramblings of a Situational Single Parent
At the end of this unbelievably long day which started at 6am and is just now winding down, I am filled with many thoughts and so, because I am too exhausted to put the sheets on my bed so that I can actually go to sleep, I am sitting on my rear-end typing a basically pointless, kind of whiny blog post until I can muster the energy to move more than my fingers and get myself to bed already. Doesn't that introduction just suck you in and leave you breathless with anticipation for the literary genius which must be forthcoming? Well, read on friends and strangers, read on. Don't blame me if you are disappointed, though.
The last 2 days have been challenging. Intrepid Spouseman is off learning new and exciting ways to stay alive in the increasingly hostile world at large (despite what you may think, that was typed without even a hint of sarcasm. He really is off learning myriad and sundry survival techniques. That's why it's called survival training.). While he will be gone for a mere 21 days, I am finding his absence to be slightly more challenging than when he left for almost 5 months to play GI Joe. In addition to the fact that this time we do not get to communicate with Intrepid Spouseman at all while he is away, Little Levi is much more mobile and demanding of my attention and he is obviously missing his very best friend in the whole world. You see, most days, Levi wakes up and immediately visits with Isaac in the bathroom while Isaac gets ready for work. Then, they play during lunch time. And again after dinner and again after his bath until bedtime. Well, today little Levi toddled over to the bathroom door as usual and, finding it closed, proceeded to bang and yell. As you can imagine, when this failed to produce "DA!!!!!!!!!!" poor Levi was not happy. Not happy at all (neither was I, for that matter.Sad face.). Repeat this scenario several times during the day (waking from naps and peering expectantly around corners for DA!, running to the door at the sound of a car etc...) and you have the perfect recipe for a sad and confused little toddler. Poor little Bug. It seems that my normally good natured baby is handling his distress by becoming fussy, clingy and demanding. Which does not surprise me, but does make it very difficult to get my work done. And done it must get because I have major, immoveable deadlines this week. Because of work issues (at both the full time day job and the part-time adjunct job) and Levi issues today, I often felt as though everything was just inches away from complete disaster. Hence, the exhaustion. But we made it work, Little Levi and I. We worked a little, played a little, napped a little (well, those under the age of 2 napped), rinsed and repeated until everything got done. We took a break to have dinner with a friend (whose husband is also away being trained in the intricacies of survival. Thanks for rescuing my carrots and celery, A! ) and tomorrow I'm packing for a mini-vacation to visit another friend (I am so excited. Seriously. I have been looking forward to this for months! Months, I say!). All is well, even if all is a little chaotic. We are tired, but we survived. Isaac says everyone who finishes SERE should get a tee-shirt that says "I Survived SERE" (haha! Surviving survival training! Hmm...Now that I think about it, that might be a joke that is only funny to military people...or maybe only to me...wouldn't be the first time.). and I'm beginning to think that spouses and children should get them too. We'll see how the next few weeks go, but for now I'm off to cross another day off the calendar before I go to bed. Only 19 days to go.
At the end of this unbelievably long day which started at 6am and is just now winding down, I am filled with many thoughts and so, because I am too exhausted to put the sheets on my bed so that I can actually go to sleep, I am sitting on my rear-end typing a basically pointless, kind of whiny blog post until I can muster the energy to move more than my fingers and get myself to bed already. Doesn't that introduction just suck you in and leave you breathless with anticipation for the literary genius which must be forthcoming? Well, read on friends and strangers, read on. Don't blame me if you are disappointed, though.
The last 2 days have been challenging. Intrepid Spouseman is off learning new and exciting ways to stay alive in the increasingly hostile world at large (despite what you may think, that was typed without even a hint of sarcasm. He really is off learning myriad and sundry survival techniques. That's why it's called survival training.). While he will be gone for a mere 21 days, I am finding his absence to be slightly more challenging than when he left for almost 5 months to play GI Joe. In addition to the fact that this time we do not get to communicate with Intrepid Spouseman at all while he is away, Little Levi is much more mobile and demanding of my attention and he is obviously missing his very best friend in the whole world. You see, most days, Levi wakes up and immediately visits with Isaac in the bathroom while Isaac gets ready for work. Then, they play during lunch time. And again after dinner and again after his bath until bedtime. Well, today little Levi toddled over to the bathroom door as usual and, finding it closed, proceeded to bang and yell. As you can imagine, when this failed to produce "DA!!!!!!!!!!" poor Levi was not happy. Not happy at all (neither was I, for that matter.Sad face.). Repeat this scenario several times during the day (waking from naps and peering expectantly around corners for DA!, running to the door at the sound of a car etc...) and you have the perfect recipe for a sad and confused little toddler. Poor little Bug. It seems that my normally good natured baby is handling his distress by becoming fussy, clingy and demanding. Which does not surprise me, but does make it very difficult to get my work done. And done it must get because I have major, immoveable deadlines this week. Because of work issues (at both the full time day job and the part-time adjunct job) and Levi issues today, I often felt as though everything was just inches away from complete disaster. Hence, the exhaustion. But we made it work, Little Levi and I. We worked a little, played a little, napped a little (well, those under the age of 2 napped), rinsed and repeated until everything got done. We took a break to have dinner with a friend (whose husband is also away being trained in the intricacies of survival. Thanks for rescuing my carrots and celery, A! ) and tomorrow I'm packing for a mini-vacation to visit another friend (I am so excited. Seriously. I have been looking forward to this for months! Months, I say!). All is well, even if all is a little chaotic. We are tired, but we survived. Isaac says everyone who finishes SERE should get a tee-shirt that says "I Survived SERE" (haha! Surviving survival training! Hmm...Now that I think about it, that might be a joke that is only funny to military people...or maybe only to me...wouldn't be the first time.). and I'm beginning to think that spouses and children should get them too. We'll see how the next few weeks go, but for now I'm off to cross another day off the calendar before I go to bed. Only 19 days to go.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I apologize in advance for the extremely rant-y nature of this post
I have a lot to say these days, but very little motivation to actually, well, say any of it. Mostly I compose extremely rant-y blog posts in my head, take a deep breath and then move on with my life. But today, since the Spouse is still at work, Little Man is happily playing with an empty container of oats (What? You don't give your kid trash to play with? What's wrong with you?) and a wooden spoon (Ditto above but with kitchen implements) and the laundry is (mostly) done, I thought "What the heck? Let's rant in public for a bit, shall we" and so, we shall.
Rant #1: I am just so unendingly tired of people talking about the NBA "labor" dispute. Does anyone, anywhere care even the slightest little bit that a whole bunch of multi-millionaires are not getting their "fair" share from a bunch of multi-billionaires? No? Then let's move on, news media. There are starving children in Africa. Heck, there are starving children in Iowa. Let the poor little rich kids handle their playground dispute in private. MOVE ON.
Rant #2: I love the People of the South. Really, I do. I love that they are friendly and funny and, mostly, not scary. But, BUT, can I just say that I do not love it when People of the South touch Levi? I have to bite lips and sit on hands to stop myself from swatting people. Seriously. I get that he's pretty much the most adorable little person ever. I know that he's extremely social and will chat with you in his little baby voice and reach out his little hand as if to invite touching but PLEASE, dear People of the South, do not share your germs with my baby. I may have to make a little shirt that says "NO TOUCHY" and only let him out of the house when he wears it.
Rant #3: The ice cream currently sold by several major manufacturers is no longer ice cream, but is instead a mysterious concotion they are calling "Frozen Dairy Dessert". I am just so disappointed. I recognize that the reason for the name change is because their "ice cream", in reality, contains little or no cream and how sad is that? I say that it is indicative of pretty much everything that's wrong with industrialized food production in this country. That's right people. The lack of cream in our ice cream is merely a symptom of a larger problem and you can just take that to the park and protest it. Furthermore, I'd just like to go on record and say that I'd happily pay more to have some cream in my ice cream. I'm pretty sure most people would. I look forward to pumpkin pie ice cream all year but now that I've made this unfortunate discovery, I can't bring myself to purchase and consume Pumpkin Frozen Dairy Dessert. There are, I know, several brands of ice cream that are actually ice cream and/or I could, theoretically, make my own but 1. None of the true ice creams have a pumpkin flavor and 2. I am super lazy. Sad panda. (side note: in the grand scheme of things-like starving children in Iowa-I realize that this is a small problem, but this is my party and I'll rant if I want to)
Rant #4: Could some please explain to me the laws of the universe that have dictated that no matter how carefully I set the timer and no matter how watchful I am over them, I inevitably burn at least 1 tray of cookies each and everytime I bake cookies? There has to be some sort of rule that I am breaking or some sort of universal vendetta against my cookie making. Perhaps both? Help me out here, surely this is not just me? Is there some sort of support group? Remedial cookie baking education? Something?
Rant #5: I would like to find the person who decided landscaping with rocks was a good idea and beat him (of course it was a him) with a few rocks of my own. This past weekend, in a haze of joy at having my "own" yard (which is really not mine at all, but is instead owned by a rather large and mysterious government contractor and which is technically shared between myself and the residents of the other half of the twin home in which I currently reside but which I call my "own" because, really, typing out what it actually is everytime is time consuming and disheartening), I purchased, with the intent to plant, many bulbs. Many, many bulbs. There were tulips and irises and fresias OH MY!
I thought (silly me) that this would be a simple process-clear pine needle mulch (ick), dig holes, plant bulbs, water and trust the fates of the universe. But, alas. This plan hit a snafu when, upon moving the pine needle mulch, it was discovered that some idiot, erm, person, had previously filled the entire flower bed with decorative rock. Let me reiterate: someone, somewhere had filled a flower bed with ROCKS. Then, someone else decided it would be a good idea to completely cover those rocks with PINE NEEDLES. I'll just let you mull that one over for a bit.........................................................................................................
Anyway. After sitting about the house sighing deeply and morosely lamenting my fate, the intrepid husband devised a plan whereby the rocks would be moved and the bulbs planted. This plan involved the husband moving buckets full of rocks to the backyard flowerbeds, which are so overrun with rocks (EVIL DECORATIVE ROCKS) and weeds that even I don't want to try and do anything with them, while I scraped the rocks out of the dirt so as to fill his buckets and loudly cursed the person who thought rocks and gardens were a good match. Eventually, most of the rocks were gone, all the bulbs were planted and Levi had only eaten a little dirt. But STILL. Rocks. Pine Needles. For the love.
And that is all. Carry on.
Rant #1: I am just so unendingly tired of people talking about the NBA "labor" dispute. Does anyone, anywhere care even the slightest little bit that a whole bunch of multi-millionaires are not getting their "fair" share from a bunch of multi-billionaires? No? Then let's move on, news media. There are starving children in Africa. Heck, there are starving children in Iowa. Let the poor little rich kids handle their playground dispute in private. MOVE ON.
Rant #2: I love the People of the South. Really, I do. I love that they are friendly and funny and, mostly, not scary. But, BUT, can I just say that I do not love it when People of the South touch Levi? I have to bite lips and sit on hands to stop myself from swatting people. Seriously. I get that he's pretty much the most adorable little person ever. I know that he's extremely social and will chat with you in his little baby voice and reach out his little hand as if to invite touching but PLEASE, dear People of the South, do not share your germs with my baby. I may have to make a little shirt that says "NO TOUCHY" and only let him out of the house when he wears it.
Rant #3: The ice cream currently sold by several major manufacturers is no longer ice cream, but is instead a mysterious concotion they are calling "Frozen Dairy Dessert". I am just so disappointed. I recognize that the reason for the name change is because their "ice cream", in reality, contains little or no cream and how sad is that? I say that it is indicative of pretty much everything that's wrong with industrialized food production in this country. That's right people. The lack of cream in our ice cream is merely a symptom of a larger problem and you can just take that to the park and protest it. Furthermore, I'd just like to go on record and say that I'd happily pay more to have some cream in my ice cream. I'm pretty sure most people would. I look forward to pumpkin pie ice cream all year but now that I've made this unfortunate discovery, I can't bring myself to purchase and consume Pumpkin Frozen Dairy Dessert. There are, I know, several brands of ice cream that are actually ice cream and/or I could, theoretically, make my own but 1. None of the true ice creams have a pumpkin flavor and 2. I am super lazy. Sad panda. (side note: in the grand scheme of things-like starving children in Iowa-I realize that this is a small problem, but this is my party and I'll rant if I want to)
Rant #4: Could some please explain to me the laws of the universe that have dictated that no matter how carefully I set the timer and no matter how watchful I am over them, I inevitably burn at least 1 tray of cookies each and everytime I bake cookies? There has to be some sort of rule that I am breaking or some sort of universal vendetta against my cookie making. Perhaps both? Help me out here, surely this is not just me? Is there some sort of support group? Remedial cookie baking education? Something?
Rant #5: I would like to find the person who decided landscaping with rocks was a good idea and beat him (of course it was a him) with a few rocks of my own. This past weekend, in a haze of joy at having my "own" yard (which is really not mine at all, but is instead owned by a rather large and mysterious government contractor and which is technically shared between myself and the residents of the other half of the twin home in which I currently reside but which I call my "own" because, really, typing out what it actually is everytime is time consuming and disheartening), I purchased, with the intent to plant, many bulbs. Many, many bulbs. There were tulips and irises and fresias OH MY!
I thought (silly me) that this would be a simple process-clear pine needle mulch (ick), dig holes, plant bulbs, water and trust the fates of the universe. But, alas. This plan hit a snafu when, upon moving the pine needle mulch, it was discovered that some idiot, erm, person, had previously filled the entire flower bed with decorative rock. Let me reiterate: someone, somewhere had filled a flower bed with ROCKS. Then, someone else decided it would be a good idea to completely cover those rocks with PINE NEEDLES. I'll just let you mull that one over for a bit.........................................................................................................
Anyway. After sitting about the house sighing deeply and morosely lamenting my fate, the intrepid husband devised a plan whereby the rocks would be moved and the bulbs planted. This plan involved the husband moving buckets full of rocks to the backyard flowerbeds, which are so overrun with rocks (EVIL DECORATIVE ROCKS) and weeds that even I don't want to try and do anything with them, while I scraped the rocks out of the dirt so as to fill his buckets and loudly cursed the person who thought rocks and gardens were a good match. Eventually, most of the rocks were gone, all the bulbs were planted and Levi had only eaten a little dirt. But STILL. Rocks. Pine Needles. For the love.
And that is all. Carry on.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Now We Are 1...
Presents!
Cake!
I've been meaning to post pictures for the past week, but better late than never! We had a great little family party with cake and presents and lots of playing with new toys. Yay for birthdays!
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