Monthly Archives: November 2010

These are the Days of my Lives…

These are the Days of my Lives…

After a week of holiday celebration, involving a whole lot of wine food and a bunch of family togetherness due to school being out for Thanksgiving (since, really, two days is NOT enough, fuckers), the kids went back to school today.

Choirs of angels sang. I heard them. They sang Billy Ocean and the Bacon Brothers. It was awesome.

I celebrated by working a bit, contemplating the logistics of car maintenance and garbage disposal replacement, and then drove to Alexandria, 40 minutes out of my comfort zone plus 20 minutes of Pentagon-GPS-Black-Helicopter “where the hell am I?” -ness to inspect a business establishment set up for people like me who don’t have an office (or hate their office) and need a place to work. It was one of those grown-up work experiences that required me to put on make-up and realize that all of my work clothes are too big. Sigh. Time to hit some thrift stores.

Great thing about the place is that its not Starbucks or the book store. People go there for work, they network, they connect and then they go home. Coffee is self-served, so its like an office, including the ability to send and receive faxes, something that is missing from my silly bedroom office when I need to fax, like once a year. The geek in me is totally in love, and thinks that the 40-200 minute drive is well worth the benefit of having a conference room at my disposal, in case I ever need to confer with someone. The problem is that this place is like buying a new phone when one’s current phone is just fine. Its stupid, but I really wish the place was closer. Then, I could make up my mind about whether to pursue the potential networking goldmine of a newly established business within an industry that is just beginning to make headlines.

Somehow, that all needed to be said. You should see me in office supply stores. Geek.

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Billy Ocean

Billy Ocean

Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about me.

You see, on Friday, The Twitches had their kindergarten Thanksgiving “program” that I now feel like I could recite myself after having seen it, in various forms, for the past 8 years. Albuquerque is a Turkey, yo. They piled the parents of 3 classrooms into a sectioned-off area of the cafeteria so we could all be frustrated and annoyed that we couldn’t see our brilliant younglings all dressed up in their paper bag “Indian vests” that they had decorated with symbols, their names and maybe even a Star Wars scene (coolest kid ever!).

Yes, I said, paper bag  ”Indian vests.” Not Native American, not Native… just “Indian.” Stereotypical costuming (that I admit, Freedom and I helped create while volunteering, but I didn’t know what it was for!!) I live in the DC area, I would think that cultural sensitivity would be a bit more visible. But, no, on Thanksgiving, they revert to the old way of teaching our nation’s glorious history. The pilgrims came over and had to show the wild Indians how to be civilized, and, in turn, everyone sat down to eat a great big meal together because of how grateful they were for their various roles in the pacifist beginnings of the U.S. The End. Gobble Gobble.

I realize that teaching the true horrors of genocide might be a bit much for the average  kindergartener to take, but honestly, the its not like they’re teaching that same lesson plan in Native schools. Are they?

Within 60 seconds, after making sure The Twitches knew Freedom and I were there, I was already offended. Then, the singing started. The songs about how Thanksgiving is about being grateful… for turkey. I mean, I’m sure there was a nicer message in there, but my own kindergarten mind only heard, “we are thankful…turkey.” Wait, no, there was also a song about teepees, wigwams and the over-the-top, just plain offensive term of greeting, “HOW.”

Let’s go shoot us a turkey! Gobble Gobble! HOW. Come see my teepee. GAAH!

Sigh. Vegetarian Melia just put on the fakest Stepford smile (wait, is that the start of a new feminist theory?) she could and clapped where appropriate. The program was over in 10 minutes, and we shuffled off to the classrooms for craft time. Mary Sunshine’s classroom was pretty chill, with only one activity and lots of free time. The activity? Paper bag puppets. With Pilgrims. Gendered pilgrims.

Only the boys in the classroom got the boy pilgrims to cut, color and paste. The girls only got the girl pilgrims. There was no deviation. I bit through my jaw trying not to ask my obvious, “what if Mary Sunshine wants a boy?” and just smiled a Stepford smile, colored, cut and pasted while snarling to myself.

I was only at the school for 90 minutes. That’s a short time to have been culturally offended three times… just sayin’.

Happy Monday, folks! The kids are all out of school this entire week, so please pray for me.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhJIDETEVIQ

Its the extended mix. Bwahahahahaha!

Bulls Scare the Pee Outta Me

Bulls Scare the Pee Outta Me
Bulls Scare the Pee Outta Me

Finally, a day out of NoVa!

The kiddos, Freedom and I took the opportunity to flee Stepford on Saturday and head, well, anywhere. It was well past time to get the hell out and have some fun. Out. Away. Gone. Vamoosed.

Did we go to Baltimore and hang out at the Inner Harbor?

No.

Did we go MOTORIN’! with go-karts and eat funnel cakes?

No.

Did we frolic through DC?

Nope.

You see, after about an hour of researching places to go that were age- and weather-appropriate, we decided to head out to Natural Bridge, VA and hit up the Virginia Safari Park, a monster and dinosaur museum… and FOAMHENGE.

Foam-fucking-henge, yo. Be jealous.

Plan in place, we adorn ourselves in jackets and no electronics, because its “just a short ride” (foreshadowing) from NoVa to Natural Bridge, get in the LoreMobile and after an hour delay of strange proportion, snacks and gas, we’re on our way. Its 10am.

10:20: Freedom says, “we’re not going to get there until 1:30?” Huh? I check the GPS and, indeed, the hour-long car ride I had anticipated became 2.5 hours, because while planning the getaway, I didn’t think to actually check a map. We’ve already told the kids our destination; there’s just no turning back. No electronic entertainment for the boys, so no DVD player for the girls. Just us, the open road, and a whole lotta “awwwww shit.”

This is why I’m never to be trusted with driving the getaway car… or choosing a hotel. Just sayin’.

After much stifled laughter (from me) and angst (from Freedom) and blissful unawareness (the kids), I assure my human navigation device (Freedom) that, if nothing else, we WILL see Foamhenge. Then I bargained with a deity.

We drove. I stared at the GPS’ ETA. Freedom says, “are you sure the museums are open?” I reply, “the website didn’t say they weren’t open.” Because, really, what website would fail to mention its seasonal closing? Freedom, not trusting the Internet Gods, calls the museum(s). They’re closed. They’re part of a group of touristy stuff, including Foamhenge. Crap, crap, crap. Will Foamhenge be open?

“We WILL see Foamhenge,” I promise, trying not to visibly show my doubt. I may have said that a few times, mostly trying to make myself believe that this trip would have some sort of freaktastic ending in which I actually don’t totally screw up the day and make everyone absolutely miserable.

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I’ve Been Thinking

I’ve Been Thinking

After spending the morning in a classroom full of Kindergarteners, then running errands and thus avoiding work for the past 7 hours… I am awesome.

courtesy of technorati.com

I am awesome because no matter what, I make time for my kids. I work, sometimes I manage to clean, and I pretty much devote each and every moment to making sure the kids’ needs are taken care of, even if its just by writing an article or tweaking an ad somewhere. I go to the school, I fight for appointments, I fight for homework, I dance with them, ground them and let them know that no matter how badly they screw up, I love them.

Yes, I have help, too, but I’m talking about me. So there.

I got paid and spent $100 on myself… on a chair, keyboard and mouse. Why? So I could work and not break my back in the process. Its the first $100 I’ve spent on me in a long, long time, and it wasn’t even on me. It was for the family, for the kids. I’m okay with that. I’d like to go see Hair or something un-kiddy, but I’m sure that will happen when the time is right. For now, its about them (but if you happen to have a few tickets to Hair laying around, send ‘em my way, please).

All of this is right on the heels of a really great dream. You know those dreams that you awaken from knowing there was a special message hidden within their strange dreamy language? In my dream,  Maya Angelou and Alice Walker were holding a workshop and I was there, with them… with such amazing, incredible women. Strong women… writing women. Women I would gladly stalk for just 5 minutes of conversation.

But, I’ll take the dream… for now.

So, with the unselfish me getting such a great present from her idols, we’ve both decided that its time to take some time to recapture that dream that was destroyed earlier in the year. The dream for the Wellness Center, the dream of the writer. Maybe I still won’t have a whole lot of time for “me” things like pedicures or girls night outs (even if my girls have abandoned me for pregnancy and the life of a foodie, or whatever Martini Lady is doing now), its still for me. In a sense, it could still be for the family, too. Because of that feeling I get when I’m working with my kids, I know that following that inner prompt to do something I love to do (being with the kids, writing, etc.) is where my fortune is, even if I never make money at it.

I do have to work. I do have to parent. I do have to smile, laugh, rock out and be happy. There is so much I have to do, that I love to do… and sometimes these moment of loving where I’m headed are just blissfully overwhelming. How can things go wrong when there is such a strong feeling of joy over working so hard?

I just don’t think things will go wrong. Look at Maya and Alice, right?

P.S. Have you ever noticed how much apples and hearts resemble each other?

I Don’t Like You

I Don’t Like You
I Don’t Like You

Its been one heckuva week, Brownie.

1. Don’t ask me to do something, or say to “go ahead” on a work concept and then question me, over a month later, about what I’m doing. Its getting old, and I’m about to replace you with someone who will appreciate my brilliance and not ask me to make printable forms, thereby insulting my intelligence.

2. Stop burning the house down! Totally kidding. Maybe. (Its just stuck in my head, much like “Spider Pig”)

3. Don’t make an appointment for ONE of my twins when I clearly state that I need two consecutive/concurrent appointments for my… twins. Jeebus.

Its Monday, and I don’t need this crap. Actually, those are my only complaints, so I probably shouldn’t complain except for #1 because I woke up pissy at a client and have to keep telling myself to just let it go. Its time to get my brain together and get through this week. Next weekend, I’m doing something fabulous with the kids if it kills me, I just don’t know what, yet.

I’m so tired of talking about myself. I don’t like it.

Yes, yes you do.

But, do you know what I do like?

Olives.

Ok, those, too. But, really, I like love

Gasp!

Its true. After a Soul Retrieval and much soul-searching, I have determined that I am one of those people who really, really does believe in that fairy tale love… and I’m okay with being that kind of dork.

You had to do what? Jeebus, we could have told you that. I’m pretty sure that someone DID tell you that. Freakin’ women.

I’m actually quite happy to have that part of me back, I kind of missed her. There is a feminist conflict in this, and I keep thinking about Jong’s Fear of Flying, but I’m pretty sure that I’m on the right track. Someday.

So, maybe I do like you. Maybe I love you. Or not.

That’s okay, because we love you. Mostly because we’ve burrowed so far into your brain, we get to watch your porny dreams.

Hmm, good point.

Duh.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hy4Y20dOlKs