Lucky Number 13

On Monday, I will officially be the mother of a teen. My 12 year-old will be 13 years old. Lucky number 13. Hehehe. Contrary to what some might think I am not afraid of the teen years; in fact, I'm looking forward to them.

Maybe I'm not worried because my oldest son is not a typical kid and therefore is not/won't be a typical teen. This is the kid who when asked if he wanted to go to the first dance of 7th grade said, "I'm not ready for that kind of commitment." Hehehe. That's not to say that I think the teen years will be smooth sailing. But seriously, were the teen years smooth sailing for anyone? All of the drama, the melodrama, the angst: Can anyone seriously look back and say, "Those were the best years of my life!!" I didn't think so.

Alrighty then. Time to board the teen roller coaster, Lucky Number 13.

13  13  13  13  13  13  13  13  13

The Proper View of Work

Sorry, it's another cat picture. You know this is what cats really think.

What Cats Think

I think a little amusement is in order after the last couple of posts. My FB friends will recognize this picture, and yes, this is my cat. I'm positive that she thinks this all the time.

Who Writes This Crap Anyway?

I read my news online. I can't remember the last time I picked up an actual, honest-to-goodnes, real live, big name newspaper. Sure, we get the local paper delivered for free, but I can't honestly say that I read it. The San Francisco Chronicle used to be my newspaper of choice back when I was in college...like two decades ago (cough); but even now, I read that online.

While I have some fond memories of reading the morning paper with my morning coffee, I can honestly say that in this case I prefer online news reading for a couple of reasons: instant variety and reader comments. With just a few clicks of the mouse I can go from reading the SF Chronicle to the New York Times to the Los Angeles Times and then over to the BBC with a final stop at the Onion. If I'm feeling really lazy, I head on over to the News section of All My Faves and just click the icons of my favorite news sources. Virtually no typing. All of this I can do in the same amount of time it would take to hunt down one newspaper, come home, and make some coffee. Seriously.

My second reason for preferring online news to print news has to be the reader comments, hands down. Sure, the newspapers have letters to the editor (yawn), but they can't compare to the instant off the cuff comments. Part of the fun for me is trying to pick out the trolls and the innocent folks who get their undies in a bundle and get sucked into the trolls' comments. I also like reading comments like, "Who writes this crap, anyway?" or "This is what passes for journalism these days?" Dude, if you didn't like the article, why did you bother taking the time to comment...unless of course, you didn't read it and you're trying to start something.

BTW - I like comments, too. And just in case you're wondering who writes the crap on this blog: I do. I write the crap on this blog.

Speaking of Showers

What? Don't look at me like I'm a freak. I'm not the only one who takes a shower in the buff.

I've come to realize that the easiest and most practical time for me to clean the shower is when I'm taking a shower. Seriously, it makes sense if you think about it.

Try scrubbing at awkward angles and then try to rinse the shower walls and door while simultaneously trying not to get your clothes wet. It's asinine, unless of course you have clothes that are specifically designated as shower cleaning clothes. I figure since I'm already in the shower I don't have to worry about getting water on my clothes. Hehe. I can easily scrub the walls, the door, and the floor while my conditioner is working in my hair. What? Don't look at me like that.

Oh, and I love the Lavender Comet, by the way. Well, "love" may be too strong. How about "really like"? I really like the Lavender Comet. It's not so much that it eliminates the regular Comet smell (it doesn't); it's just that after the Comet scent assaults your nostrils, the gentle scent of lavender comes right behind it to soothe your nostrils. Yeah, OK, it's just a cleaning product, but it does smell better than the original. So, the next time you're in the shower...

You Sound Like Your Mother

We've all done it.  We've all said something to our kids then smacked ourselves on the forehead and cried, “Doh! I sound like my mother!” We vowed that we would never say that to our kids.  We were determined not to turn into our mother. We promised ourselves that we would be different. It sounds good, in theory, but in practice...

Kids say the darnedest things.  They also do the darnedest things.  So, once we have children, we find ourselves saying things that we never would have dreamed of saying B.C. (before children).  For example, these are just a few of the things that I've said around our house:

• (sniff, sniff) For the love of God, stop giving the dog cheese!
• Soap and shampoo are not optional.
• No, you do not get clean by just letting the water run over your body.
• Sometimes you need to wipe more than once.
• Quit picking your nose.
• The cat is a live animal not a toy.
• If you don't want it for dinner, you can eat it for breakfast.
• Why do you have a pencil in each nostril?
• Well, shove a wad of toilet paper up your nose to stop the bleeding.
• No, no, no. Rocks are not food.
• Sure, you can play...right after you do your homework.
• No, sweetie, that's the cat's food; we don't eat that.
• Yeah, I guess it is lucky that the bird crap matches daddy's car.
• When was the last time you went potty?

To be honest, I don't remember my mom saying any of these to me...except maybe the one about eating my dinner for breakfast.  Maybe I am original.  Maybe I did keep my promise after all.  Oh, wait a minute; just the fact that I even had to say any of this stuff doesn't exactly attest to my stellar parenting skills. Doh!

Cheapskate Skivvies

Add a dash of sense of humor and a pinch of lightheartedness.

It absolutely galls me to have to spend $65+ for underwear. I'm sorry I didn't mean to be so blunt. I should use one of the more delicate terms like lingerie or intimate apparel.  No, wait a minute, I don't buy anything close to resembling lingerie.  I mean underwear.  Anything cotton or cotton blend = underwear.  Anything lacy and polyester/nylon/spandex = lingerie.  Too bad there's no cotton/spandex blend.  The last time I splurged and bought undergarments, it cost me $65. And we're talking for the Playtex and Hanes no-frills basics – the women's equivalent to tighty whities.  (OK, maybe not that bad.) If you want to see the difference between “underwear” and “intimate apparel” head on over to Nordstrom and see what $65 will get you.

“Holy crap, Minivan Mom!  Is there no frugal alternative?” Sadly, the answer is, “If there is, I haven't found it...at least one that's acceptable.” I do realize that I have several choices:

1. Shut up and buy new undergarments;
2. Fly free;
3. Check the thrift stores for “gently used” garments;
4. Accept hand-me-downs from friends and relatives.

Option 2 is not really an option; it's a last resort. Maybe it's my snobbishness or my squeamishness, but options 3 and 4 don't appeal to me. I don't know why, I mean I have worn thrift store clothes and hand-me-downs. But undergarments are so...personal. It also seems to me – and I'm just blowing smoke here – that the elastic in undergarments is more delicate.  Consequently, the uh, support in used items would not be sufficient. That leaves me with option 1. I guess I better zip my mouth and open my wallet. All in all, this is really nothing to get my undies in a bundle over.  Perhaps I should just put on my big girl panties and get over it. :-)

A Work in Progress

Back in August I posted an entry about my cat and his new haircut (or furcut). Today I thought I would post an update on his progress.  Here is how he looks as of today:

Poor Henry (that's his name BTW). I almost feel bad for him now that its getting down into the 30's and 40's at night.  He's probably thinking, "All  I want for Christmas is my long fur back."

A Girl's Best Friend is...a KitchenAid?

You can keep your diamonds...although if you don't want them, I'll take them.  My KitchenAid mixer and I have been friends going on 20 years now.  We got it as a wedding gift, and although hubby has used it occasionally, it's pretty clear that he and the KitchenAid are merely acquaintances - fair weather friends, if you will.  The KitchenAid and I are BFFs, and it proudly sits on my kitchen counter.  And yes, I used it to make last week's BFD coffee cake and last night's pumpkin pie.

With few exceptions, there hasn't been a week pass by when I haven't used this glorious stand mixer.  It no longer looks sparkly and shiny like when it was new, but it's still a workhorse.  Not only do I have the mixer, but I also have the Slicer/Shredder Attachment and the Pasta/Food Grinder Attachment.  I have mixed cake batter, and bread dough; sliced and shredded countless veggies and cheeses; ground up leftover meat to make my own sandwich spreads; and even made my own pasta.  I love this machine!  It's the only thing that has prevented me from buying a food processor.  Here's to 20 more years of cooking with my KitchenAid!

Watch Out for Table Scraps

One of my favorite columnists for the San Francisco Chronicle used to, every so often, write a column about his cats.  He would preface that column with a warning: cat column.  So, I'll post a similar warning: cat blog entry.

I have two cats.  Well, actually, 1 ½ cats.  Little Cat divides her time between our house and a neighbor's house...at least, that's what she's led us to believe.  Big Cat rarely leaves home, yet I can never find him.  They are as different as night and day.  The one thing they have in common though is their distrust of table scraps.

We are not in the habit of giving them table scraps.  They are quite happy with their dry food.  Seriously.  So on the rare occasion, when I'm feeling benevolent, I search them out in order to offer them a piece of chicken thinking that they'll be so happy they'll beg for more.  I don't know why I have this expectation, because this is what they do nearly every time: they look at me like I'm trying to poison them.

Even Big Cat – who, believe me, does not miss any meals - views this offering with suspicion.  They begin this weird dance by moving side to side, pawing at the chicken with nostrils flaring like they've both been secretly trained to be drug-sniffing cats.  Then they sit and stare at it for a moment.  This is amusing and exasperating.  “Geez, it's not like it's laced with cyanide!  You can eat a damn cricket or a moth but you won't eat a piece of chicken?!?  WTH is wrong with you two?!?!”  For all I know, crickets and moths taste better than chicken, but that's beside the point.  What's wrong is that I'm offering it to them; they aren't chasing after it nor does it come from their beloved bag of cat food.  Not until they've done their drug sniffing routine can they tentatively take a bite and determine that yes, it's only chicken, and yes, it's pretty darn good.  Don't even ask what they do with ham and cheese.  Damn cats.

My Other Ride is a Townie

You might have heard women of a certain age such as myself say, "My other ride is a broom."  Now that I am entering that time of my life (no, not that time of the month), it's safe to say that there are gonna be days when I'm flying on my broomstick.  On those days, it's best to duck and cover.  However, when I'm not flying on my broom or driving my minivan, I'm on my other ride...my Townie.  The women's Electra Townie 7D in Orange Pearl.  Sleek and geek, oh yeah, baby, how do ya like me now?

My husband and I both got bikes a couple of weeks ago so that we could go on family bike rides.  I don't remember what he got, but it's not as cool as mine.  Anyway, I love this bike, and I am so sad that I've already got a flat tire.  I haven't had a bike in over 20 years and I had totally forgotten what it was like to ride a bike - the freedom, the exhilaration of being out and about.  The one thing that my bike can do that neither my minivan nor my broom can do is to provide me with a means to exercise and enjoy doing it.  I foresee a long and lasting relationship with this bike...as soon as I fix the flat tire.

Before and After

I don't have alot of time to blog today, but I wanted to leave you with this to start your weekend.

This is my cat, before:

Before

This is my cat, after:

After

This is what happens when your long-hair cat doesn't allow you to brush him on a regular basis.  It's called "The Lion" cut.  Looks more like "The Poodle" cut to me. Feel free to laugh; I know I did.

Shorthand Hell

You've seen them.  I know you have because they're everywhere.  They're inescapable and they can be annoying or amusing depending on your mood.  Here is just a small sample of them:

LOL  IEP  TTFN  DS  WIFI  HD  ADHD  ROFLOL ASAP  CP  OTOH  BTW  PS  WTH   PDD-NOS  IBS  IRS  DH  ATM  FYI  LMAO  BFF  SAHM  TMI  IMHO  VI  OCD RTFM  DD  FB  ASD  IM  OMG  and WTF

I use some of these.  Frankly it's easier for the writer to use shorthand, but sometimes readers have to rack their brains to decode them.  Well, at least I do, so maybe it's just me.  Every time I see “ROFLOL” in an email, my brain automatically translates it to “Rolling on the floor laughing out loud”.  I get it; I really do.  Shorthand saves on space.  Nobody wants to type "Rolling on the floor laughing out loud" in response to every good joke.  Seriously, it takes up too much space, too much time and it's just not cool.  Sometimes though, shorthand can be overused or overdone.  For example (to be read with a sense of humor):

BTW, just FYI, your BFF is an OCD SAHM who IMHO is ADHD or maybe PDD-NOS, but definitely ASD  with IBS because of the IRS or DS and DH. OMG, seriously TMI!  Which may leave some of you thinking: WTF or WTH?  

If you need help translating the above shorthand, or you just want to expand your savvy coolness, then check out Netlingo.  IMHO, parents of texting tweens and teens should check it out.

PS: I'm so glad that "IMHO" doesn't have an "A" in between the "M" and the "H".  That could be awkward.