Can You Guess?

Posted on 10/31/2008 11:50:00 AM
The Dormouse has had big plans for her costume for a month now and she cannot understand why no one knows who her chosen icon is when she tells them, "I'm Daphne." I don't have the heart to tell her she's watching DVDs of a thirty year old cartoon because her mother might start pulling her hair out strand by strand if she had to listen to one more minute of Yo Gabba Gabba echoing throughout the house.



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Whoooo Rrrr Uuuuu?

Posted on 10/31/2008 08:10:00 AM
Why, the Very Angry Caterpillar, of course.


This was her costume last year and it dwarfed her so that I decided to try and shove her in it again. I was right. It still fits. But there are no leg holes, and she's extremely unhappy about that fact.


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This Octopus is Much Too Busy

Posted on 10/31/2008 12:40:00 AM
A few years ago, the organization I work for hosted an international conference. The official languages were deemed to be English and Spanish. Since I was the only one in the office who spoke Spanish, I took it upon myself to write a Spanish phrase of the day on the board so that my colleagues could learn some phrases and words that might help them through this experience. You know, things that might come in handy, like:

El cuarto de baño está allí por el pasillo y a la su derecha.
The bathroom is down the hall and to your right.

¡Favor, paso lejos del escritorio de registro!
Please step away from the registration desk!

Lo siento, usted no puede pedir su cena del día de gracias aquí.
I'm sorry, you cannot order your Thanksgiving dinner here.

Este pulpo esta demasiado grande.
This octopus is much too large.

I don't think that anyone in the office who was there was able to use a single phrase I taught them in an appropriate situation at the conference. However, I do know that every single one of them managed to work in the sentence about the octopus whether it was appropriate or not.

Here's costume number two for the Halloween season:

Cutest Costume (age 2 and under) submission


Awww right? She's so cute, you say? Wouldn't it be cute to get a photo of both girls in their Halloween costumes, you say? Yeah I thought that too for about half a minute. And just so everyone feels my pain, here's what it was like trying to get Hurricane Caterpillar to pose for a picture with her sister Daphne.









Cutest Costume (age 3 and up) submission

I finally got one (only one) of her standing and looking at the camera and where her face wasn't covered by that hood. I told The Dormouse to stand there, stare at the camera and we waited until The Caterpillar walked through the frame.

Este pulpo está demasiado ocupado:

Best Photo submission

This post was part of a blog blast for Blurb, the coolest make-your-blog-a-book service out there, (which I really want to win, hint, hint, nudge, nudge, knowhaddamean?) coordinated by the Parent Bloggers Network.


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Still Not Learning My Lesson

Posted on 10/30/2008 05:27:00 AM
Call me a glutton for punishment. I know. I've said it all. But I was given an assignment and I can't back down.


The thing about little projects like this is I really do like to do them. But I have a very short attention span, so while it seems like a cool new hobby, after awhile it becomes tedious to me. So when I start off thinking, "Hey, I've never worked with fondant or gum paste... that'd be kind of fun to learn..." It really will be for me. But once I do the first three cupcakes I'll have gotten what I wanted from the experience and I'm done. The problem is, I've committed myself to twenty-five of these little buggars and now I've got to follow through. Ugh.


Plus I do not enjoy cleaning up the inevitable mess.


And there you go. Treats for the fall harvest party at The Dormouse's elementary school.


There's six hours of my life I'll never get back.



Please someone stop me from agreeing to do Christmas cupcakes a month from now. Please.

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I LIke Mine With Lots of Melted Butter

Posted on 10/29/2008 08:56:00 PM

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A Day at the Pumpkin Patch

Posted on 10/28/2008 10:52:00 AM
It's been awhile since we've had a photo essay, hasn't it? Let me introduce you to "our" pumpkin patch. It was raining that day and there was so much mud that it might as well have been ours... we were the only ones there.

"Wow, this place is much bigger than my pumpkin garden."

"These pumpkin things seemed a lot bigger last year."

Little Miss Won't Wave to Momma.

This goat got more waves than all the humans combined since she's learned how to wave.

The KingofHearts wears his crown.

I told you these mums were big.

Trying to figure out how to fit one in her mouth.

The Dormouse was fascinated by the bales of hay more than any pumpkin. If we replaced the local playground equipment with hay bales instead she'd be thrilled...

but it might not be the best thing for all concerned.

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Fall Colors

Posted on 10/27/2008 07:14:00 AM
We headed up to the pumpkin patch this weekend to snag some good old fashioned cheap pumpkins (never mind that that gas we expended to get there probably more than made up for any savings on pumpkins - it's a family tradition) and they had these beautiful potted mums there which were so big we could only fit two in the back of my car. $9 each! So we bought a pot for our porch and one for our neighbor's, who was kind enough to give us a ride to school last week when The Dormouse missed the bus, my car was in the shop, and I didn't really relish the idea of walking six miles to school with a five-year-old and a baby in a stroller... but that maybe was just so I didn't have to endure more comments of "Put that baby's socks on!" I don't know what it is about fall, maybe just that I never experienced one growing up, but it's my absolute favorite season.


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Things That Make You Go, "Whaaa?"

Posted on 10/26/2008 06:09:00 AM
I realize that I'm not a State Highway Administration employee and I do not understand all the ins and outs of efficiently providing mobility for customers through a safe, well-maintained and attractive highway system that enhances communities, economy and environment. But every day I drive down this street:


And I just don't see the reason for this:


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Free Advice is Worth the Price

Posted on 10/25/2008 04:55:00 AM
Dear People of Washington, D.C. -

It's not that I don't appreciate the support, really I do. I'm sure there are lots of people out there who wouldn't. But as a parent, I realize I'm not the cat's meow and I could use all the help I can get. So let me be the first to say thank you for all the observations and advice you've offered over the past week since the weather has turned a bit chillier. But here's something to think about before you stop that lady on the street to tell her the baby in the stroller she's pushing is terribly underdressed for the weather and will freeze to death if she doesn't put a hat and socks on the baby as soon as possible:
  1. perhaps she has tried to put socks on the baby
  2. perhaps she has tried to put a hat on the baby
  3. perhaps she has tried to put mittens on the baby
  4. perhaps the baby is wearing warm clothing and a sweater
  5. perhaps she is only going down the street a couple of blocks and will be back inside before the baby even notices it is cold out
  6. perhaps she has three pairs of socks, two hats, a pair of mittens and a pair of shoes in that giant bag she's slung over her shoulder and she is just sick of bending over to pick one of them up from the pavement every five seconds as the baby yanks them off and drops them to the ground
  7. perhaps she knows that a blanket would suffer the same fate and it's just not worth it
  8. perhaps she knows it's a tad bit chilly, but she was born in North Dakota and she knows what real cold is and this ain't it
  9. perhaps it is 60 degrees and the wind is not blowing and there's not a cloud in the sky
  10. perhaps you are all cold weather wussies who need to mind your own business
Sincerely yours,

Alice

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Perhaps a Job at the EPA is in Her Future

Posted on 10/24/2008 05:33:00 AM
While standing at the bus stop:

"Mom, you know how I love you, right?"

"Yes."

"And, you know how I love the world?"

*stifled laughter* "Yes."

"Well, I'm going to go across the street and pick up that trash over there. You know, to help the world."

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Shooting Myself in the Foot

Posted on 10/23/2008 05:44:00 AM
How hilarious is it that my cupcakes (that I think look quite ragged, actually) were featured on The Hip Homemaker and Blissfully Domestic, two very cool websites but websites that may now have dropped down a notch or two in people's estimation because they included something from my addled brain in their annals? When I mentioned this to The KingofHearts, he laughed a great big belly laugh. He knows that I am the Anti-Wife and have no business being associated in any way with either of those websites. Thanks for the shout out anyway, guys! Next time look closer at people's qualifications though... I sometimes tend to forget to feed my own children.

Apparently, the joke is on me, however, because The Dormouse brought home a letter from her kindergarten teacher yesterday explaining that they were having a fall/Halloween party at school and they'd asked each parent to choose and bring something from the list which was printed below the letter. The teacher had taken the liberty of checking off "cupcakes" for me and put a smiley face next to the item. The KoH is still laughing at me.

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Well, I Learned Grammar From Schoolhouse Rocks

Posted on 10/22/2008 04:59:00 AM
The Dormouse, yammering on from the back seat while we're driving around:

"All that goes up must come down."


A little nonplused, (because, seriously, they're teaching the Universal Law of Gravitation in kindergarten but on the reading front, she's still learning what a "W" sounds like?) I said, "Did you learn that from your teacher?"


"No."

"In school?"

"No."

"In aftercare?"

"No."

"Well, who taught you about that, then?"

"Scooby Doo."

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Hello Dave

Posted on 10/21/2008 06:47:00 AM In:
"Momma, I figured out what I want to be when I grow up."

"Really? You don't want to be a toothpaste engineer anymore?"

"No."

"A flagpole?"

"No. Now I want to be an inventor when I grow up."


"That sounds great. What are you going to invent?"

"Probably, the world's first robot."

"Mmmm. Yeeeaah, I'm pretty sure there are already robots."

"Oh."

"Maybe you can invent the world's first robot that does something no other robot does."

"That's a good idea."

"Liiiike, maybe, the world's first robot that cooks my dinner?"

"No! That wouldn't be a good invention. Maybe, I'll invent the world's first robot that would be very responsible."

"Well, that would be something new. What would you name it?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"How about Hal?"

"No, that's not a very good name for the world's first robot that would be very responsible."

"So science fiction would tell us, I guess."

"Maybe Chad."

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Beneath the Planet of Snuggie

Posted on 10/20/2008 07:57:00 AM In:
This morning, The KingofHearts and I caught this infomercial on early morning tv that only people like us are up early enough to see. It caused no small amount of amusement and we just had to share:

I immediately said, "You too, can purchase this item which will make you look like you belong to
a strange cult where people all wear Reebok tennis shoes and wait for the spaceship behind a comet to take them away from the pains and problems of earth life."

The KoH had a different take on it. His new theory is that the guys from
this movie:

Weren't just mutant, telepathic humans,

holed up in an underground city,

hiding from the dreaded ape army now out to exterminate mankind...

...they're just poor victims of the recession, bent on decreasing their heating costs.


P.S. Enjoy this take on the commercial: The Cult of Snuggie



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To Gillian on Her 8th Birthday

Posted on 10/20/2008 06:05:00 AM
Dear Gillian -

Each year around the third week of October, I find myself getting really irritable for no apparent reason. I yell at my family for stuff that really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, people in general just piss me off (well, more than they do normally), and I start considering self-medication as a form of protection for those around me because I just can't seem to stop. Then one day I'll look up at the calendar like I did this morning and suddenly realize that today's your birthday. I don't know if the two things are really related, but they sure seem to happen together a lot. Or maybe I'm just a bitch the rest of the time too and I only notice it around now.

Earlier this year, I met someone via the Internet who had just found out that the baby she was carrying had tripliody. A friend thought I might be able to help her through this and put us in contact. We exchanged long emails and information through updates and successes as well as the inevitable outcome. I think perhaps she handled the whole thing better than I did, was much more adult about her feelings, and probably cried why me a whole lot less than I did. (A close friend who struggled with cancer in his youth once told me that he determined "why me?" to be the most dangerous question one can ever ask one's self. He said that the answer was always, "why not?" And yet I'm still prone to hand wringing and anger at God when things don't go my way. I wish I wasn't so quick jump on that bandwagon. It's trite and overdone.) I'm not sure how much of a sounding board I was to her or whether I was of any use, but what really happened through that experience was she helped me. It was nice to be able to pull that out of the little protective case I keep it in and talk about it. I vacillate between thinking that I keep all those feelings to myself a little too much - I should talk more about it to more people - and the same old me-type feelings: these are my memories, no one else's... other people aren't entitled to them unless I decide. And so I jealously guard when and with whom I talk about it. It's probably not so healthy, I admit, but it's how I roll. I'm trying to be smarter about that though.

When discussing grief at some women's church event this year, I remember someone announcing to the group that feelings of loss lessen after time. To which I had to respond, "No, you are wrong. Those feelings never go away. They will always be with you, but they do eventually get easier to live with." It was a big step forward for me... bringing up our past in a group of women from this ward. Maybe it shows that I am growing up a bit and letting go of some of my hurt over how we were treated back then.

When people ask me how many children I have, it's always a hard question to answer. Because what they really mean is I see you are a bit old to have a small baby; how many other children do you have living with you at home right now because I'm wondering how you are coping and whether you are just one of those crazies who thinks when the Bible says, "multiply and replenish the earth" it meant you personally? I hate this question because it's small talk and it's supposed to be easy to answer and it's not easy for me. Depending on the situation, I'm either more or less technical about it: if it's just someone in the elevator, I'll often say two and get off on my floor. Sometimes I'll answer two at home with me and one stepson who lives with his mother if I might talk to the person again but they aren't anything more than an brief acquaintance. It's just the easiest way to get the information out when people aren't really asking to know, but just out of politeness and/or small talk. But the truth is I do and will always consider you a part of our family and I have four kids - even if they aren't all living with me right now.

For years, I've used my friend's kid as my litmus test to see where you would be if you'd stuck around. She was born in the same year as you and it's been both painful and gratifying to have a little reminder of what you'd be doing, how you'd be acting, the successes and defeats you'd encounter. This year we were invited to her baptism. It caught me by surprise, I'll admit. My first thought was Good heavens, it's not possible that it's been eight years and then, Not only is it possible, but that's how long it's been, stupid. It's hard for me to believe that that much time has elapsed when the memories of you are still so real and needle sharp. There are definitely things I'm glad you will never experience: mean kids at school, trouble with homework, Internet predators... but oh how I would just love the chance to sit back and watch you at your baptism. Who would you be now? Would you be a budding musician/therapist like I was at eight years old? Would you be a hard scientist/I think I'm going to write a novel today type like your daddy? Would you become your own brand of person entirely just to remind us that there's always something we haven't prepared for or thought through? These are things I can't wait for you to tell me one day.

We've never kept any information about you from your sisters. While The Caterpillar isn't old enough to understand yet, we've been pretty up front with The Dormouse about you and we consider you a current part of the family. When The Dormouse was younger, she used to talk about you and say things like, "We took my baby sister to the hospital. I remember, she was very tiny." I sometimes pressed to see if she'd said those things because they were things we'd told her. But we only ever used the most minimal terms to talk to her about what happened to you and I don't remember ever telling her about the hospital and how you were born. I don't really know what's that supposed to mean. Was she somehow more connected to you? Or do I just want to believe that?

Now that The Dormouse is older she doesn't claim to remember you like she used to do. But she does consider you a part of her family and you show up in drawings, family tree projects she's asked to do in school and listings of names under the title "My family." It's gratifying to see that.

Can you miss someone with whom you spent so little time? I do. I miss you Dear One. I hope one day I'll be able to put my arms around you and hold you close to me. I hope one day you'll tell me about your day and we'll laugh about silly things and just generally all be together. I can't wait for that part.


Love,

Momma

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Highly Qualified Professionals

Posted on 10/19/2008 07:10:00 AM
Two weeks ago, when The Dormouse was throwing up her toenails, I got an anti-nausea prescription from the pediatrician. It was a nightmare getting it filled because I went to FIVE (5) pharmacies, who all said, "Oh we don't have that in stock. We can order it though; it'll be here in about three days."

It's not like any of them didn't have the actual med, it was just that the pediatrician had prescribed it in suspension form and they, I guess, didn't have the form of the medication that would mix in a suspension.

The last pharmacy I went to was Target - which was also the largest. When
they didn't have the suspension form in stock, and I could see the box of pills on the shelf behind them, I was exasperated. "Look, can you call the pediatrician and see if it's possible for her take the pill? Since the whole point of taking this med is to get something to stay in her stomach today before we have to go to the ER for IV fluids tonight, I'd really like to not have to wait three days to get it filled." Then the pharmacist there suggested I go to each and every pharmacy I'd already been to:

Pharmacist: "How about CVS?"

Me: "I've been there; they don't have it."

Pharmacist: "Or Rite-Aid."

Me: "They don't have it either."

Pharmacist: "Medicine Shop?"

Me: "Nope."


Pharmacist: "Costco?"


Me: "Yes, I went there too. Like I said, I've been to FIVE pharmacies and no one has it. You're the biggest one in the area and if you don't have it, I'm pretty sure just driving around to other random pharmacies isn't going to yield any success either. She's old enough to take a pill so would you please call the pediatrician and see if he'll allow her to take the pill instead so I don't have to end up in the ER with her when a simple pill might keep her away?"

Pharmacist: *heavy sigh, stomps off to the phone and dials the number*

Woman in line behind me: "They HATE to call the doctors here. You go girl, make them work!"


After another discussion on the phone wherein the doctor asked to speak with me because apparently the pharmacist said "Zoloft" instead of "Zofron" on the phone and he couldn't figure out why the mother was asking for an anti-depressant instead of an anit-nausea med, everything got cleared up and we got sixty (60!!) doses of some sublingual equivalent of Zofron. They didn't have the entire sixty pills, so they filled thirty and told me to come back later and pick up the other half. I got home, stuck one pill in The Dormouse's mouth and fifteen minutes later, she was able to keep down the pedialyte and tylenol we'd been poking into her gob for two days only to watch her throw it back up again. So, needless to say, I didn't really make the effort to go back for the other thirty pills.

/background

Now, fast forward to this week when I hurt my back. Don't know how; I just got out of bed one morning last week feeling fine and then twenty minutes later while walking through the kitchen, I stepped down and pain shot up my leg like an exploding firecracker. The rest of the day, I couldn't stand up straight and I went to work looking like a question mark. My colleagues finally tired of working with Quasimodo and pretty much pushed me out the door to see their chiropractor across the street (we should just pay that woman a bulk fee and have her come to the office). I'm not really a chiropractor person, but I bow to public opinion way too often so I went over there. She got me standing up straight again, which was nice, but the damage to my back muscles had been done and three days later, I still felt like I would rather stick a fork in my eye than bend over.


I finally realized I had a prescription for tylenol+codeine that still had a refill on it hanging around the house leftover from some other purpose, so I asked The KoH to go to a pharmacy to get that filled. He chose Target, got the meds and left them on the kitchen counter when he came home. When I went in a little later to find my precious, precious painkillers, all I found was a filled prescription for The Dormouse.

"Didn't you get my codeine?" I yelled from the kitchen.

"It's right there on the counter," he yelled from the living room.


"No, it's not."


"It's the red and white bag."


"The only thing here is the other half of The Dormouse's prescription."

"I didn't get anything for The Dormouse; it's RIGHT THERE."


"No, this is the other half of The Dormouse's prescription from last week."

"No, it's yours."


This when on in a very Who's on first? style until I finally opened the bag with The Dormouse's name on it and looked closely at the bottle with The Dormouse's name on it. It was my prescription for codeine, but they'd accidentally put her name on it instead of mine.

...!!


This is a huge mistake. If we had not been paying attention, it would have been very easy to accidentally dose our little forty-two pound girl with codeine prescribed for... let's just say a more than forty-two pound adult woman -- especially, if The Dormouse was still taking the other medication. I keep meaning to go back to the pharmacy and show them their mistake, or report them to the American Pharmaceuticals Association, but given that we're all sick in one way or another, I haven't really gotten out of the house to do this. I will though.

I'm not really even sure why I'm writing about this now except for the fact that yesterday the balance of the original prescription was delivered here by UPS -- apparently because I didn't pick it up -- and it reminded me of the whole fiasco.

I just want to offer these words of advice to whomever might be reading: know what your doctor is prescribing and check it once it's filled. Most, if not all, pharmacies include in the printed information that comes with each prescription a written description of what the pill/medication should look like. Make sure it matches what's in the bottle; don't just take the pharmacy's word that what's written on the outside of the bottle is what they put in the bottle. It seems to me that it's very easy to make a small mistake while filling a prescription that could have drastic consequences, just ask Dennis Quaid. Add to that, the problem we have in my neighborhood where 90% of the pharmacists only have the smallest grasp on the English language and it just makes sense to take some responsibility for managing your own health care.

The End

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Just... WHA HA HA HA HA

Posted on 10/19/2008 07:00:00 AM In:


Here's the original.

More videos.

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Gas Prices Falling... and Rising... and Falling

Posted on 10/19/2008 06:56:00 AM
I made this observation yesterday on the main road out of my neighborhood. These are the listed gas prices of the nine filling stations in a 1.5 mile distance before the nearest freeway exit:

Distance from Freeway Exit $ per Gallon
Station 1 1.5 miles
$2.93
Station 2 1.25 miles $2.85
Station 3 1.25 miles $2.85
Station 4 1 mile $2.69
Station 5 0.9 mile $2.87
Station 6 0.75 mile $2.85
Station 7 0.5 mile $3.59
Station 8 0.25 mile $3.25
Station 9 0.1 mile $2.87


The gas prices in my neighborhood vary $.90 within a mile and a half -- on the same road. Can anyone look at this and tell me with a straight face that gas prices are all market driven and station owners don't price gouge?

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Welcome to Conditioning

Posted on 10/18/2008 06:23:00 AM
*a virtual dollar for anyone who can tell me the artist of the song in the post title without Googling. If you can, you sir (or madam), complete me and I’ll be your friend for life.*

The Dormouse had her yearly checkup yesterday and given the last couple of weeks, I decided to have her get a flu shot so we wouldn’t have to go through that nightmare again. She’s always been pretty good about shots until age four. Four kicked our asses because we weren’t ready for the drama and trauma the four year old shots would cause. She had always been rather blasé about getting a shot in general and if she cried at all, it lasted a minute tops and all was right with the world again. I had no reason to expect anything else. But somewhere between three and four, the memory and anticipation factor increased ten fold. So after the first shot when she realized it hurt and then she could. Not. Bear. Another one. So she kicked, squirmed, yanked her arm back and screamed bloody murder through the next three.

So when I decided she should get a flu shot at this appointment, I prepared her before. I reminded her how awful she felt when she had the flu and explained that this shot might hurt for a minute, but she felt awful for days when she had the flu and it might be worth it to have a little bit of pain that would be over in a second rather than be sick for days again and feel as badly as she did.

Either what I said worked and I’m a great parent, or she just grew a year more mature since the last time. (probably the latter) Whatever, she was a trooper and didn’t even try to kick the doctor in the balls once.

So we finished the visit, told her how brave she was and headed out the door. I got through the waiting room, past the front desk, out the door and half way up the steps when I realized The Dormouse wasn’t by my side. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see her standing in front of the desk. “Cm’on,” I yelled, and turned toward the steps again.

She stood there.

"We're leaving."

She still didn't move.

Exasperated, I went back down the steps through the open door to grab her by the arm and drag her out of the office.

"But, Mooooomaaa...." she trailed off.

"What?!?"

"I was braaaaaave!"

Suddenly, it occurred to me: the nurses usually give her a lollipop and tell her how brave she was after she has an appointment in which she gets a shot. She got a shot and she wanted her lollipop, dammitall. Even though it'd been over a year since she last got a shot, my little behavioral modification experiment subject had been taught that she deserved a lollipop and she was physically incapable of moving until she did.

Pavlov's dog, ring a bell?


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Finally

Posted on 10/17/2008 11:07:00 PM
And with just a few clicks of the mouse, my faith in the political process is restored... at least a little. It's just nice to hear two people talk to and about each other like adults for the first time in.... good heavens has it been two years? I'm going to bed now.

From the Alfred E. Smith Foundation dinner last night in New York.





(I'm dying to know who wrote their speeches.)

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Moonglow

Posted on 10/17/2008 07:04:00 AM
The other night, the moon had this fabulous ring around it which is supposed to be bad, I know, but I went out to take pictures anyway. One of the photos was way underexposed - as in, "Look, I took a picture of a black blob" underexposed - and I was going to delete it, but I thought I'd see if I could make something out of it in PhotoShop first for the hell of it. I bumped up the contrast just a bit and out came this little gem. Sometimes life is all about happy accidents.


Edited to add: Here's the before picture for those who are curious.


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He Likes Me, He Really Likes Me!

Posted on 10/17/2008 06:19:00 AM
Yesterday morning at work, as is our custom, we began the day by having a long and heated rehashing of the debate and how John McCain doesn't seem to know the difference between autism and Down's Syndrome. (He may be a perfectly qualified candidate and all, but we are all therapists who specialize in working with children with special needs and that "Sarah Palin knows about autism / we'll spend the money to find the cause / we're going to have a budget freeze on all programs" statement angered this group like no other -- and not just those in the room who are mothers of children who are on the autism spectrum.) As is my custom, I soon realized that this could go on forever, and quietly backed out of the conversation to go back to my office and get some actual work done.

I was sitting at my desk, listening to the lingering discussion in the hallway when this email came through on my desktop:

Alice -- *my name is not really Alice; obviously, it had my correct name*

I just finished the last debate before the election.

Now the outcome of this campaign is up to you. I need your help to get our message out -- and to get out the vote. I wouldn't ask for your support if this campaign didn't urgently need it. Your donation of $5 or more today is essential to our unprecedented get out the vote operation in these final days. The most dangerous thing you can do right now is nothing. Your support and hard work are exactly what we need between now and Election Day.

While he didn't mention the middle class, John McCain chose to repeat the false, negative attacks that make up 100% of his advertising these days. The truth is that his choices say more about his campaign than they do about me. But John McCain and his allies are not going to stop fighting -- or attacking -- until the very end.

We're doing this a different way. Tonight I talked about the real problems ordinary people face during this economic crisis and concrete ways that I will create jobs, cut health care costs, build a new energy policy, and get our economy moving. But time is running out. Our strength and our success in these last 20 days depends on you: https://donate.barackobama.com/finaldebate.

Thank you for all you do,

Barack

So face, all you Obama Mommas! Take that Dormouse! I started yelling out my office door, "I just got an email from Barack Obama! Barack Obama knows my name! Not only does he know my name, but we are on a first name basis!" For some reason, my colleagues were unimpressed with my notoriety.

I quickly sent this email back:

Dear Barack - *remember? we are on a first name basis*

Thanks for the personal email. It's been so long since I've heard from you! I have to say, your email took me by surprise, though. I didn't expect to hear from you until after the election when things had calmed down a bit. I still remember fondly that night we spent together in the back seat of that Studebaker. What fun, heady days those were right? Did you ever get the chocolate sauce our of your lapel? I hope the dry cleaning wasn't too expensive. Hey, remember that $20 you owe me? Feel free to consider that a gift to your campaign. Just think of it as "my little tip."

I think of you often and can't wait to hear from you again.

Thanks for all you've done, if yaknowhaddamean,

Alice

P.S. There's a reason The Dormouse loves you so... she's yours.

A couple of hours later, I got another email. This one, from Joe Biden:

Alice --

Anyone who tells you this election is already decided is dead wrong. Let's not forget the 2000 election, when Al Gore was up by double digits in October. The surest way to lose a race is to slow down with the finish line in sight. We're taking no chances. We've planned the biggest get out the vote operation in history, and we need to make sure that every voter has their voice heard. That's why we've set the goal of bringing in 100,000 new donors by Friday at midnight.

If you step up and make your first donation today, it will be matched by a previous donor. Will you make a donation of $5 or more today and double your impact? This campaign has fought for every inch, and now is not the time to take anything for granted.To get out the vote, we need to knock on hundreds of thousands of doors and make even more phone calls.

This campaign has built the largest field operation in history, and we need to mobilize it in these remaining days to get every single voter to the polls on Election Day. Because that's what it comes down to -- counting every last vote. Make a matching donation today to make certain that when everything is on the line, we are stronger than ever: https://donate.barackobama.com/promise. We've come too far to hold back now.

Thank you for everything you're doing,

Joe

Oh puleeze! How gullible does Joe Biden think we are? Anyone could tell that was a form letter.

P. S. Monica got emails from moveone.org and Karl Rove, which is hilarious beyond my wildest dreams and provides me with no end of amusement.

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As a follow-up to this post... I thought I'd offer the chance to really make your opinion matter. You know... just like it does in presidential election exit polls. Click on your choice to see a running tally of the results. Vote early, vote often (just like in presidential elections).



Get your own Poll!

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It's Progress

Posted on 10/16/2008 04:54:00 AM
This is what she bought with the birthday money from Grandma and Grandpa. I promised I would post a picture. Sure it's still pink, but it's no nightmare in pink and for that, I am thankful. Our little girl is growing up.

Perhaps we should have let her buy some shoes too.

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My New Favorite Pasttime

Posted on 10/16/2008 04:43:00 AM In:
Make your own, here.


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Washington, D.C. Metro, United States
Married, 40ish mom of two (or three, or four, depending on how you keep score) who stepped through the lookinglass and now finds herself living in curiouser and curiouser lands of Marriage, Motherhood, and the Washington, D.C. Metro Area.

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