People Unite

I apologize that I have to veer from my generally mundane post to address an issue of great concern. I try to veer away from politics as much as possible, but there is a movement that is growing. This movement could change our lives forever unless we stand up and act now.

I happened across this blog a few months ago, which is a, if not THE, gathering place for people taking part in this movement.

They call themselves the League for the Suppression of Celery. I have snuck over to secretly spy a few times and discovered that they are trying to eradicate (or irradiate?) celery!

Do you believe this?

Please, if you believe in all that is good about celery go over and let them know the facts. Let them know how great celery is and that we won’t stand by while they sneak about rallying people against that green noble vegetable.

Think about it, celery is great. Celery is . . . ummm,


okay,


celery is crunchy! yeah, what would we do without the crunchiness of celery?


and . . .


well


celery takes more calories to digest than it contains! So there! Celery IS good.




Just imagine trying to explain the lovely crunch to your grandchildren who will never have the opportunity to experience it.

Now is the time to take action. I’m urging you in the name of all that is thin and green and crunchy. Please go to this site and pepper it liberally with your praises of celery.

note: I have to warn you that they may follow you. Here is what happened to me.

Perhaps we can stop the madness before it’s too late.

How about People for the Ethical Treatment of Celery?


Anyone?

Boys2men

When my son was still a baby, one day while I was changing his diaper he would not stop crying. I tried the soothing voice or singing to him - okay, that was a bad idea. He just wailed more.

It was one of those arm flailing crying jags that babies have. He was crying so forcefully until one of his waving hands touched his penis. Suddenly, the crying stopped and all was silent. It happened instantly! He was soothed into silence while his hand held onto his newfound treasure.

In that instant I had a completely new understanding of my husband . . . and all men.

If you are a new wife and you are wondering how to soothe your husband - there you go.

I just saved your marriage.




I had originally planned to post on my experience in teaching sex ed to my kids inspired by this post which Art Sparker sent me to, but we haven't totally covered the subject, yet. Meaning my husband hasn't had time to teach it yet.

Rushin' to conclusions

My family was here for the weekend. It was supposed to be our Christmas get-together, but my dad hurt his back blowing leaves before Christmas.

This is something we all have to look forward to - hurting ourselves through mundane tasks?

Nooooooo - the opportunity to duck out of obligations at the last minute, inconveniencing dozens of people, changing everyone's plans with one simple, sorry excuse.

The weekend was quite uneventful. Well uneventful for everyone else, because someone had to get the house ready, make all the beds, plan all the food, buy all the groceries, do all the cooking, launder all the sheets and towels, etc., and I'm sure you know who did it all.

I'm exhausted. My butt is glued to the sofa, and I'm thinking of some simple, sorry excuses to duck out of my current obligations which include getting up to change the volume on the surround sound for the tv, or getting a blanket to cover my feet.

Meanwhile, we are watching the U.S. Figure Skating championships. My daughter skates and has high hopes for her figure skating career. Shhhhh, don't tell her there is no such thing.

Sample conversation:

husband: she must be Russian

daughter: this is the U.S. championships - Hellooooo, that means only people from the U.S. of A!

husband: she's a Russian immigrant

daughter: she's from FLORIDA!!!

husband: 80% of Floridians are Russian immigrants - they like to be warm. Those two must be married.

daughter: DAD!!!!!! She's only 15!!!!!

husband: Those Russians like to marry young, don't they.

I'm not making this up. This is what just happened in our humble abode while I sit with my butt still glued.

note: please don't take offense if you are Russian or from Florida or a Russian immigrant living in Florida or a Florida emigrant living in Russia. No harm was meant.

Successful Blogging

Since I have seen so many blogs recently that profess to help you . . .

Blog Successfully!!!!!

(Not to mention the books and websites)

I decided to write a post on the secret to becoming a successful blogger.

Now, before you accuse me of not knowing anything about successful blogging,
because my blog sucks -

just wait . . .

I do have a secret that is sure to make your blog successful.

If you're still here, then here it is. The secret to having a successful blog is this:


Write good stuff that people want to read!

Then - repeat and continue to repeat as long as possible.


Shhhh . . . Please don't tell anyone this secret - it's between my faithful reader and me.

What?!? I never said I use my secret, but you can!

Sorry in advance ec card droppers. I have family coming this weekend,
so I will be out of computer commission for a while.

It hurts to 'eat it' and to move

I gave my husband such a hard time for being sick. It was pretty ridiculous that he couldn't take his own tea bag out of his tea because it 'hurt to move'. But I do have to swallow some of that.

I had a fun girls' night out planned. I was meeting my friends for dinner in town. Since I live a ways out of town, I decided to get a room at a beautiful, centrally located hotel, so I wouldn't have to drive home.

It was a beautiful plan!

It was a fun evening, as it should have been. We met many characters. I'm not sure if a written description will do them justice, but I'll try for another post.

It went pretty well, until ~ 4:00am, when the sickness hit me square in the face . . . and in the stomach . . . and definitely in my head . . . and everywhere. Before you even start - no, I was not hung over!

It was the kind of sick where you start to think death is a good idea, and sleep is the only form of relief.

When I called my husband late in the morning to ask him what I should do. He didn't say anything like - see? How does that feel?

He immediately offered to drive down and pick me up, knowing it's no fun to be sick in a hotel room, especially when you forgot your toothpaste! Seriously.

So, now I have to eat all those snide accusations about what a baby he was. (later - I couldn't even keep water down at the moment).

Even though he wasn't completely recovered himself, he did climb on that white horse, don the shining armor and rescue me from myself!

Sorry, I know it's weak today, but I have to get back to bed.

Bedroom Design

This photo is a reenactment of an actual event, not to be confused with the actual event itself.

I was doing laundry the other day and must have accidentally dropped my red bra.

It happened to fall on my black boots that I had left on the bedroom floor the other day. I didn't notice and just kept putting my laundry away.

The next day I saw my bra laying across the boots and picked it up and put it away like I generally do with my laundry.

That same evening my husband asked me (in his most seductive tone, but he was still a little sick, so it was mixed with a sort of whiny, sick tone) "where's your red bra? "

Really?!?

He was completely disappointed that I put it in the drawer where it belonged.

I guess in his mind the 'dropped' bra was either a new bedroom design statement or some sort of subtly hinted seduction?

This incident shed some light on why guys always leave their underwear laying on the floor. Some heretofore unknown sexual ritual language? Or perhaps it is considered the perfect decorative accessory for a bedroom?

Hmmm . . . should I use these as a lamp shade or a crappy throw rug?

Sick Day

My daughter has been sick with a cough and cold for the past week. Then last night my husband started with the waah waaah waah - my throat hurts.

I was all prepared to give up my important Monday activities in order to dote on my poor ailing family by cooking homemade chicken soup, brewing special healthy teas, distributing tissues and trash cans around the house, filling up water glasses and handing out meds.

However, I decided suddenly came down with a stomach ache. Man, I was so looking forward to spending my day in the kitchen, cleaning up after everyone, picking up the used, wet tissues from all over the house.

Instead I had to lay on the sofa,playing working on my computer while catching up on some of the important movies I had saved and occasionally holding my stomach.

Then, my husband woke me up in the middle of the night (okay it was 6 am, but it seemed like the middle of the night) with his sore throat noises and his frail voice complaining, 'I can't sleep, my throat hurts.'

Finally, after I realized I wasn't going to get back to sleep with all those noises, I offered to make him a cup of tea. Then comes the whiny, 'ok.'

He's the one who can't sleep - I could sleep fine, but I have to get up out of my oh-so-comfy bed and make him a cup of tea. While he lays there doing nothing - wide awake!

When it's all done and I'm snuggled back in the covers, he wakes me up again. Spoken in a frail and whiny voice, "Can you take the tea bag out for me?"

Me: "What?!?!! Why can't you remove your own tea bag?"

Him: "It hurts to move."

I won't go into the - God was smart when he gave the childbirth thing to women. You guys would never make it through the first cramp! I won't go into what babies men are when they get a little sick and how the mommy always has to still 'do stuff' whether or not she's sick. I won't get into any of that. I'll take the high road here.

I'll just give up. I'll just forget about my 'tummy ache' and be the nurse.

Late for church - again

This morning my daughter wanted to get to church early to show off her outfit. Being the devout parents that we are, we allowed her the opportunity to turn her church experience into a social opportunity.

Since we were there, we signed our son into his class early. We weren't in the mood to sit around waiting for our service to start, so we walked back to our car.

We sat in the car and looked at the clock.

17 minutes to waste.

Me: Wanna make out?

Him: Where should we go?

Me: Why not here in our car in the church parking lot?

Him: Everyone will be walking right by our car to get in.

Me: So?

So . . .

More than 17 minutes later, we walked into our service after it had begun. Everyone turned around and looked at us as we smoothed down our hair and straightened our shirts.


I know they were all jealous but trying not to be because of the whole 'thou shall not covet' thing.

Klink-a-dink

Today I went for a massage and went over to my friend's house for lunch.

I then decided to stop at Whole Foods for a quick grocery shopping. I happened upon a good friend there, klink-a-dink - so we took our time through the aisles. We were savoring the rare moments we both had to shop without our progeny tugging and begging.

I realized I had forgotten the lettuce so ran back to get it. I then found my mom in the produce section. Another klink-a-dink, so we had a nice chat next to the prickly pears.

On my drive home, a good friend I haven't spoken with in a while called. She's been hanging out with the Real Housewives of Atlanta. So she had to fill me in on the scoop!

It was a klink-a-dink day.

For once, I escaped the offspring and found some fun! Above you see the kids having fun too and making a little money while I did my important bidness.

Censored?

Have you ever heard that song, Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo?

Have you heard that song, Sex in the Kitchen?

Did you know that that Gwen Stefani 'Bananas' song is really full of sh*t?

I hadn't heard any of these here in the U.S. I heard all of these in English over in Germany.

It's a little uncomfortable when I'm riding in a car with my kids and the profanity starts rolling out on the radio, but we have learned to use it while we're over there. We just replace the German word we don't know with a curse word - they don't seem to mind.

But, that Sex in the Kitchen song came on while my husband and I were shopping in a jeans store.

I found myself looking at the clothing while uncomfortably trying to pretend I didn't understand the words pounding out through the speakers above.

Censorship exists here, thank goodness?

Clueless

I admit it. I'm a new blogger, and I'm completely inept and clueless.

I nosed around on the internet to try to figure out how to make a button for my entrecard, but I cannot figure it out.

Most of my 'readers' find me through google because of the picture above from my post on 'White boots in Berlin'.

Hey, I just realized I could probably expand my readership by putting this picture in every post!

Maybe I'm on to something here. If you steal my idea, I may have to . . .

wait, you won't steal my idea because you are simply a poor prostitute trying to find a place to buy footwear.

Sorry, I guess I shouldn't be calling my most loyal readers names. Are you offended by the whole 'prostitute' thing since that's much better than other names you could be called? Or should I refer to you as a professional man-pleaser? Let me know the politically correct title, and I'm happy to use it for all future references to you, my dear reader.

I apologize if I've offended. I'll try to find some new pictures of things you might appreciate, how's that?

Are we good, now?

Is that really your son, ma'am?

For no apparent reason - a notsogood picture of an elephant kicking me in the butt!

We have been traveling to Europe since before my children were born, so they are used to the drill. We like to think that our family is savvy at getting through the airports.

We all prepare ahead and my kids know that they are only allowed one suitcase each, which cannot exceed 50 lbs. We set out our scale for everyone to weigh their suitcases, switching out heavy important stuff with light important stuff. Everybody gets their ipods loaded and charged. Winter coats go into the checked luggage, so we aren't schlepping them through the airport. We make sure we have the chargers for the laptops, cameras, ipods, phones, etc.

We expect our children to be pros at getting through security. We even have a family competition to see who can make it through security the quickest.

When we arrive at the baggage check-in, the agent asks the routine questions, "did you pack your bags yourself?"

Husband: yes

Son: No - my mom packed for me.

Agent now pointedly directed at my husband: Were the suitcases ever out of your eysight?

Husband: no

Son: Yes they were - when you were looking for which way to go, you weren't looking at the suitcases!

Annoying? of course. Harmful? not really - he was just the annoying kid at this point.

But then she gets to the other questions -

Agent: Do you have any weapons in your baggage or anything that could be used as a weapon?

To a nine year old boy who bites his sandwiches into the shape of a gun, everything can be used as a weapon!

Soooooo . . . when we get to the first passport checkpoint.

For some reason this is where my son always freezes. The little boy so eager to talk and tell the truth, has become mute. For some reason, the officers always pick him to question. They never expect that we are kidnapping my daughter or that my husband has kidnapped me.

They begin their questions after looking at the passports. It usually starts with, "what's your name young man?"

My son looks off into the distance, tapping his chin and acting like he's trying to remember what name these people told him to use so he can get some candy!!!

Then they ask him where he's going.

Again with the stare into the distance and the chin tap, as we nudge him and say with teeth clenched, "grandma's, remember?"

Not suspicious at all, right? Somehow, we always make it onto the plane, but we just have to go through the whole thing again on the return trip.

What's brown and sticky?

The stick that Susan from Art Spark Theater sent me a while ago has finally been placed.

I originally planned to place the stick at the Nuremberg Christmas market.

However, the stars did not align . . .


Sooooo, together with my family we decided on this spot in Erlangen, Germany.

This is a bench holding flower boxes on an artsy street in the university town. It was placed on New Year's Eve around 5:00 p.m. All the small, quaint restaurants on the street were busy setting their tables for the big night ahead.



Thank you, Susan for sending me the stick and letting me take part in your guerrilla art project.

Oh yeah . . . 'a stick'.