tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80202362545877949882024-03-18T23:44:53.152-05:00Has Anyone Seen My Bootstraps?Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-86724501880515096522015-08-21T21:04:00.000-05:002015-08-21T21:05:13.305-05:00Belladonna ... ... lilies! I have included a few pictures below. Love these to bits. Not entirely sure which specific flower/shrub they are (more on that after the pictures), but doesn't really matter what they are called: at the end of the day, these are beautiful perennials that add long-lasting visual interest both in spring and at the end of summer. <br />
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There are two distinct genera that share similar behavior and appearance (to my unexpert eye and Google skillz, anyway). One - <i>Amaryllis belladonna </i>- is a native of South Africa, and a distant relative of conventional lilies (genus <i>Lilium</i>). The other - <i>Lycoris squamigera</i> - originated in China or Japan. Both are variously referred to as "naked ladies," "magic lilies,"or "resurrection lilies." These names arise from the bi-seasonal nature of the plant's cycle. In early spring, dark green, flat leaves emerge from the ground. They form a shrub-like clump, lasting for several weeks to longer than a month soaking up all the rich spring goodness to feed the buried bulb(s) before dying back. The growth essentially disappears during the height of summer, only to sprout shockingly fast-growing, tall, elegant stalks topped with clusters of shimmery, iridescent lily-type flowers in late summer. <br />
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These are hardy plants that withstand -20F winters. They also don't get so much as sniffed at by the deer - and we have dumb, dumb deer that eat everything they are not supposed to even like, including bulbs from <i>Lilium</i>-genus lilies. Moreover, the bulbs transplant well, making this showstopper a versatile addition to any garden. Love! Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-69332276061244047912015-08-18T21:32:00.000-05:002015-08-18T21:33:03.161-05:00Far from home...Allow me to share vague, big-life-event type information that is actually not all that new. I am currently completing training in my career subspecialty at a wonderful place. It is a great program with pioneering individuals who care about education and the institution's mission. The "fit" is outstanding. And yet... it is halfway across the country from Hottie McHots et al. And That. Is. Hard. <br />
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If I may be whiny and spoiled (moreso than my baseline, that is): it is hard knowing they are living their lives, the boys are growing up, without me. It is hard being in a new place and not having them here to share it. It is hard feeling like their lives go on just fine without me. I miss hugging them and kissing them goodnight. I miss handing Cracker Jack his chosen stuffed animals for the night. I miss Fruit Loop's crazy unruly hair and awkward growing boy-ness. I miss making Hottie McHots snuggle with me. <br />
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On top of that, we are selling the house. The beautiful, wonderful, supposed-to-be-our-forever-home-at-least-maybe house. The acreage, the barn, the pastures. And while owning the home was an impediment to the rest of the family moving here with me, it was not the only thing, and so I feel the loss and their absence that much more acutely - seems like everything is changing in ways that I don't want. <br />
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I am not the type to post pictures of my family on teh interwebs. But I will post some pictures from my adventures in landscaping. Nothing fancy, but my plants are kind of like my other children. Lots of other children. Some prettier than others. Some hardier than others. All loved, and all safe to post online so I can feel warm and fuzzy. <br />
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We'll go in seasonal order, beginning with spring. Part I. There are more. Oh yes, there are more. But first: animal crackers and nutella. Because that makes me feel warm and fuzzy. From the insulation it gives me. :)Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-21717664466208326842015-08-01T20:23:00.002-05:002015-08-01T20:23:53.322-05:00The Case of the Mystery ButterflyLocation: Finger Lakes (New York) region<br />
Observed on: some as-yet-unidentified shrub<br />
Specimen: MYSTERY BUTTERFLY!<br />
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I encountered this beautiful butterfly on a walk today. I have no idea what it is - despite exhaustive Google-ing, which, frankly, causes me no small amount of concern (because if Google can't figure it out, we are doooooooomed!) - but I think it is a type of skipper. That's as far as I got. Here:<br />
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It was a little larger than a monarch, with a wingspan of approximately 4 inches (ish). <br />
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Sigh. I love Nature. Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-31577211506120466832015-07-27T23:43:00.003-05:002015-07-27T23:47:11.002-05:00Places to Travel - Connemara, IrelandI am feeling alone and melancholy tonight. My apologies. In an effort to lift the funk, I will look ahead - actually, for this first aspirational travel post, I will look behind. <br />
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Some years back (circa 2006), we visited Ireland. It was when Fruit Loop was really quite a Mini Loop, and The Despot (who is no longer so despotic, FYI - will have to revisit that at some point) was not even on the horizon yet. It was a wonderful little weekend trip, with the perfect amount of activity + aimless driving and staring at beauteous landscapes and old castle rampart-y things + great food and friendly people. Here is the itinerary in a nutshell:*<br />
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<b>To fly:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.shannonairport.ie/gns/Passengers/Home.aspx" target="_blank">Shannon Airport</a><br />
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(This is awesome. Go wild indeed!)<br />
Great little airport, excellent flight options. Plus, it puts you right in the center of multiple day jaunts - great hub for visitors. (Go see <a href="http://www.ballynahinch-castle.com/" target="_blank">a castle</a>!)<br />
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<b>To stay:</b><br />
<a href="http://thequayhouse.com/" target="_blank">The Quay House</a><br />
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A true gem of a hotel/B&B/family-owned and -loved business. The owners are cosmopolitan and warm; friendly, accommodating, and inviting; and clearly love this property and what they do. The building is a blend of history and modernity, nestled right on the waterfront and surrounded by beautiful countryside. That being said, it is a quick 2-minute trip to the town center, so location is ideal for its beauty and convenience. The decor is a great mix of traditional and contemporary, with a variety of rooms, arrangements, and views that will suit any traveler. Clientele when we were there ranged from young families (i.e., us) to business folk to older couples. <br />
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<b>To see:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.kylemoreabbeytourism.ie/" target="_blank">Kylemore Abbey</a><br />
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A castle, an abbey, and a world-renowned boarding school for girls - this stunning place has a rich and storied history. Tucked away in the scenic idylls of Connemara, its grounds also have a traditional Victorian Walled Garden, pond (complete with swans!), and numerous paths to explore. Tours are given, replete with folklore. Also: every picture you take will be stunning. The natural and manmade beauty are breathtaking here.<br />
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<a href="http://www.sheepandwoolcentre.com/" target="_blank">Leenane Sheep and Wool Centre</a><br />
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This relatively non-descript building houses an amazing variety of all things sheep-related. They also host classes, festivals, and events. The throw we purchased during our stop here is one of my favorites - warm, durable, and unique, with great memories woven in.<br />
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Connemara_pony" target="_blank">The natives!</a><br />
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On our trip, we meandered our way through the countryside. Around many outcroppings, overlooking crumbling stone walls, and ambling over rock-studded hills were Connemara ponies. This compact, kind pony breed is a welcome site in its namesake region. (And, again - great picture moment!)<br />
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<b>To eat:</b><br />
G's Restaurant:<br />
I will admit, when pulling up sites and pictures for this post, I got a little scared - this gem of a restaurant may not be there anymore. (I found one picture, but it doesn't look like I remember. Which could just be my faulty circuits upstairs.) This restaurant was on the square in Clifden, and the chef had a phenomenal resume with an even better menu. We were fortunate enough to sample some of the chef's specials when we sat down to our early dinner. (Which we then proceeded to eat one at a time, as Fruit Loop was having none of this whole travel thing and squalled pretty much the entire meal. Poor guy. But GREAT FOOD. And, for the record, the wailing baby and constant inside/outside to quiet said baby was graciously accommodated by the waitstaff.) <br />
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<br />
Leave time to drive aimlessly. Follow the coast up north for spectacular views and history around every bend. I can't wait to go back - to revisit familiar places and discover new ones. <br />
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There, I do feel better now. Wunderbar!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*This post is simply the itinerary we created. There is no sponsorship or affiliation, and there is no compensation for this. (In fact, I am pretty sure none of these places know my little blog exists.) All pictures from referenced company-owned websites. Leenane Sheep and Wool Centre photo is via company's website by way of Linda McNulty Photography. Connemara pony photo courtesy of Wikipedia.org. </span>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-71861651636395774992015-07-18T14:47:00.002-05:002015-07-18T14:47:41.066-05:00[N]o animal could ever be so cruel as a man...*Dear heavens, the dust in here is thick. The Bootstrap Family continues to be far busier than any family should ever be. Many, many things going on in the years (eek!) since I last posted. No update today, just needed to share some melancholy.
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I am not a social media-heavy person, to say the least. (Shocker!) However, I got back on Teh Facebook not too long ago. I troll my friends' feeds, and was doing so today when I came across some pretty sad comments.<br />
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Backstory: my friend served overseas in Iraq. Many of the subsequent comments to her post are from fellow armed services veterans.
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<br />
This is so sad. These are people, human beings, on both sides of the fence here, and it is too easy to forget that in the pervasive Us vs. Them ideology. "They" are the enemy. "They" should be denigrated. "They" should be, essentially, taken out back and shot. These thoughts exist on either side of the Us vs. Them equation. US veteran or civilian, Muslim or non-Muslim - these were all once precious, innocent children, individuals who had their paths in life spread like an open canvas in front of them. Somewhere along the line, that canvas became colored - whether by violence, acts of hate, or constant threats to self and loved ones - and this <i>meanness</i> (not just unkind or vicious, but ignoble) is what now obliterates a once-promising life's work.
All because of sociopolitical and religious intolerance. Ignorance. They are essentially the same thing. Sad, sad, sad. That we have the beautiful cultures and blessings of intelligence and empathy and compassion, and yet we squander those to baser, coarse, destructive attitudes of the myopically narrow-minded.<br />
<br />
The most scary part is thought dictates action. If you allow hateful thoughts to occupy your head, you will behave hatefully. You may tell yourself that you don't really believe x, y, or z, but if your unvarnished thoughts are x, y, or z, then you can guess where I would put my money on your behavior when push comes to shove.<br />
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Nobody is right here. It is all wrong.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> * Fyodor Dostoevsky - maybe from The Brothers Karamazov? Many also attribute this quote to Dostoyevsky and cite "unknown source." </span>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-67815882899266525652013-03-22T16:07:00.000-05:002013-03-22T16:07:01.822-05:00Why I Hate the City of EvanstonOh, Evanston, how I loathe thee. I would count the ways, but I wasted too much time already dealing with you and your bureaucratic, conflict-avoiding, buck-passing BS and I only have a few minutes. However, let that be a testament to the completeness with which I detest you, Evanston - I will spend my final few precious minutes right now blogging about how you suck. <br />
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Evanston, IL. Not the idyllic, elite Chicago-but-not-Chicago-lure-of-the-northern-suburbs city they want you to believe. Why? Because they will CUT YOU with their bureaucratic tickets and fines and fees. Honest mistakes don't exist for these people, and yet they do not want to be held accountable for any mistake they make. <br />
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Date: Jan. 29th, 2013. <br />
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Scene: Night of an epic thunderstorm (yes, thunderstorm, in the dead of winter) in Chicago and the greater Chicagoland area. The storm was so bad there were numerous flash flood warnings issued. Visibility was near zero. <br />
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Story: I finish a long day at the hospital on my surgery rotation. I arrive well before sunrise, and leave well after dark. On my way home, I stop at the Jewel on Howard. I'm in luck - a parking spot right near the door! I pull in, run in (in the midst of said thunderstorm) and grab a few things, and dash back out...only to find a parking ticket on my car. <i>What? My plates are there, my sticker is not expired... There must be some mistake</i>. Well, a mistake, an honest mistake, on my part. Apparently I had parked in a handicapped spot.<br />
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Now, background: I am not a bad person. I do not go around stealing handicapped spots. I do not accumulate numerous parking violations. I do not have a criminal record, or any other ne'er-do-well records, for that matter. <br />
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The night of the storm, the rain coming down and the puddles on the ground completely obscured the worn, faded paint of the handicapped sign on the cement of the parking spot itself. In addition to that, the adjacent spot (of the yellow diagonal line variety that accompanies handicapped spots and prevents others from parking next to them) was illegally taken up by another car. The signpost for the handicapped spot was in the middle of these two spots, and I mistakenly attributed that handicapped sign to the illegally parked car next to me, assuming my spot (w/ no obvious paint for a handicapped spot on it!) was a legitimate, non-handicapped parking spot.<br />
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Wrong. Okay. I made a mistake. I am irritated about it, but I understand. I contest the ticket, complete w/ picture (although, go figure, the adjacent illegally parked car had moved by the time I returned to my car, weakening my case) and explanation. Since I am utterly too busy and do not have a whole lot of control over my hospital schedule, I choose not to contest the ticket in person - instead, I contest it online. Another mistake, though I thought at the time that events of that night were so sensible and understandable and downright legitimate (and <i>true</i>, for pete's sake!) that I would be successful in my contestation. So I file my contestation online. After submitting, "they" (read: <i>The City of Evanston</i>) state a decision will be sent by mail. <br />
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I wait. No decision.<br />
<br />
I wait longer. No decision. <br />
<br />
Finally, March 20th, 2013, I receive a third and final notice of outstanding judgment, complete with a $100 late fee in addition to my still-liable-so-I-still-owe $250 original ticket fee.<br />
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<i>WTH</i>?!<br />
<br />
Long story short: when I call to inquire about this, the nice ladies (really, they were nice - just incredibly unhelpful) at the hearings office informed me that their policy was to drop the notice in first class mail, trust in the USPS, and the responsibility lies w/ the community member thereafter. If the notice fails to appear in said community member's mailbox, tough luck. If said community member incurs a late fee, well, the hearings office doesn't handle that, and you'll instead have to speak with the collections folks. Convenient passing of the buck, no? <br />
<br />
Statistically, it makes more sense that any of the numerous steps prior to the community member opening their mailbox could have gone wrong, and it is much more likely the community member never received their notice. But that means nothing to The City of Evanston. Also, the community member is held liable regardless of whether or not they ever received their notice. Why? Because that's the way it is, apparently. I will be taking this up w/ The City of Evanston and their city code tonight. Is there some statute that dictates the manner in which residents are required to be notified regarding judgments, e.g.? No, that's just the way it is. How is that fair to the community? <br />
<br />
<i>ARGH</i>, this is so frustrating. Initial contestation aside, I refuse to pay a late fee for something I never received. With no history of mail delivery failure and perfectly good delivery of their final notice, I will most certainly argue the late fee. This whole thing is a ridiculous bureaucratic run-around where the community is blamed, put-out, and put-upon by the officials by whom they are supposed to be served. <br />
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Here. Have my $250*. And my eternal hatred. <br />
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* That's right. I am not paying your late fee, you inconsiderate, suspicious bums.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-26933219528668570902013-03-06T20:20:00.005-06:002013-03-06T20:26:05.091-06:00Hooray for United Airlines!Insanely busy, don't post a lot (obviously) unless something irks me or, as in this instance, surprises me in an immensely good way. <br />
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Congratulations, United Airlines, on your outstanding flight crew, gate crew, baggage handlers, and anyone else involved in such heartfelt, compassionate customer service:<br />
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http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/06/travel/united-flight-delay-dying-mother/index.html?hpt=hp_c1<br />
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I am thoroughly impressed, and will be happy to fly United from now on!Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-19014085753095397842013-02-10T19:56:00.004-06:002013-02-10T19:56:39.374-06:00Who do I blame: Comcast or CBS? The Grammys!Right. So I am kicking back, watching the Grammys, critiquing fashion choices, singing along, and generally enjoying myself when it happens: a flicker. Followed by a freeze in the commercial. Then another flicker and blackness. I flip the cable box off. Back on. I am greeted with the following oh-so-helpful, incredibly informative message from Comcast: "ONE MOMENT PLEASE. This channel should be available shortly." <br />
<br />
AYKM?!<br />
<br />
Okay, no problem. I grab ye olde laptop and point my trusty browser to cbs.com and live streaming of the Grammys. And, lo, what do I find? Crappity crap crap talking heads and NO LIVE STREAMING OF THE REAL SHOW! I don't CARE what goes on backstage. I don't CARE what these ya-hoos think about whatever, or that Carrie Underwood won Best New Artist x number of years ago, or that Bonnie Raitt is still alive and kicking and winning Grammys away from groups like The Lumineers and Mumford & Sons. I WANT TO SEE THE SHOW! <br />
<br />
Seriously, CBS, you think this extraneous garbage is what people want to see? Why waste your bandwidth? <br />
<br />
Am so frustrated right now. Does that make any sense, CBS? Who made that decision? Y'all must be a company run by idiots, because this makes absolutely no sense. I am steering my browser away from cbs.com. If I'm going to watch TV on the computer, I'm going to watch REAL TV on the computer, not some mindless not-music drivel.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-51396888363225161812012-06-22T12:04:00.004-05:002012-06-22T12:05:44.788-05:00A potential gateway expository post to the relationship between celebrities and the public**Or: LeBRON JAMES. The other is more appropriate, but LeBron is more accurate for now. Here is why:<br />
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I do not know LeBron James. I know <i>of</i> him. I watch him on TV. And, by golly, I have heckled him with the best of them over the last two years. I mean, seriously: The Decision? I will freely admit I cheered for teams I could care less about just so they would beat LeBron. LeBron = entitled, immature, and maniacally egotistical. <br />
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<i>However</i>. That all changed beginning with this latest NBA Finals. And it didn't change because LeBron won. It changed because <i>LeBron</i> changed. <br />
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Don't get me wrong, in the beginning I was firmly entrenched in my anti-LeBron position. I stumbled across <a href="http://www.foxsportsflorida.com/06/12/12/Olajuwon-rooting-on-LeBron-in-Finals/msn_landing.html?blockID=744734&amp;feedID=3682" target="_blank">this article</a>, which I admit affronted my beliefs a bit. Most begrudingly, I had to acknowledge a bit of respect for the fact that post-1st-Miami Heat NBA Finals Loss of 2011 LeBron James sought the wisdom of NBA sages. Not only did he do that, he apparently put his money where his mouth was, and followed it up with <i>action</i>, working out and learning from Hakeem Olajuwon. <br />
<br />
Also, as Sexy McSexy pointed out, LeBron is under an immense amount of pressure. The scrutiny is unbelievable, and taking that into consideration, well... Hmph. Well. (<a href="http://sports.yahoo.com/news/lebron-wins-perceptions-him-may-142051413--nba.html" target="_blank">Doc Rivers agrees</a>.)<br />
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I was still rooting for OKC. A nice, friendly team, no chips on their shoulders, a lot of seemingly good characters. And LeBron was doing what players/Miami does, fouling and not getting called for it: </div>
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Not only did he grab him on the way up, he elbowed him on the way down. So there, see? LeBron is still a jerk.<br />
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But...but darn it all, if he didn't get hurt and play through it - and not in an annoying, "I am so hurt, but look at what I'm doing for my team" drama queen kind of way. In my expert opinion, this was "It hurts, but this game is more important than that, and I've got to give it my all." I can respect that.<br />
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And then. THEN. Game 5. I tried finding you the video, failed, so you have to suffer through my recap:<br />
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Mario Chalmers is getting a bit cocky, egging on the crowd, swaggering back down the floor in the 3rd or 4th quarter when Miami is up by 20+...Whereas last year that was LeBron, this year LeBron saw it happening, called Chalmers over, and admonished him (not rudely, but maturely, focused) "Not yet. Play ball." <br />
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LeBron. You have grown up. You appear to have matured, to be focused, less egotistical, and much more in control of yourself. I don't mind that you guys won. In fact, after demonstrating such a change of character since The Decision, I am glad you got your title. And I look forward to seeing you now become that superstar player that everyone will root for. Well done.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-15336668422166833912012-05-17T14:27:00.000-05:002012-05-17T14:27:17.407-05:00How to be fat, lazy, and entitled - all at the same time!1. Have a Sexy McSexy breadwinner of your own.<br />
2. Have a nanny ± maid service.<br />
3. Like food.<br />
4. Spend all day at Panera "studying."*<br />
5. Grocery shop for essentials like monster bag of Laffy Taffys, peanut butter M&Ms, and Salt 'n' Vinegar Pringles. <br />
6. Sit on your tukkus in front of the sweet goodness that is a flat-screen TV, warming your ridiculously entitled, dying little soul in the soothing glow of The Gateway to Obesity and The Moral Corruption of Society. <br />
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Repeat <i>ad nauseum</i>. <br />
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<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*And by "studying," you know I mean fighting to stay awake, zombie reading through chapters of long-forgotten physiology (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starling_forces" target="_blank">Starling forces</a> for $500, please), and systematically working my way through THE ENTIRE MENU. (The mac and cheese is the best eat-out mac & cheese I think I've had - just don't look at the calories. 'cuz yeah. Then you'll understand why it's the best.)</i></span>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-33616664358326113822012-05-12T22:17:00.000-05:002012-05-12T22:17:36.108-05:00Adventures in gardeningLet's recap. (Or not, because now that I think of it I have not told you a thing about where we live - or maybe I have, and it has just BEEN SO LONG since I've touched this little blog doohickey that I simply DON'T REMEMBER.) <br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
We live in an apartment. With a little balcony. And no yard. (Whatsoever. Which is fine, tradeoffs, understood.) Fruit Loop christened the balcony "our yard" during my second foray into gardening last year.* That was somewhat successful, especially if you measure success by the dumbfoundingly pervasive number of petunia seeds that are sprouting this year (in my reused dirt).**<br />
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Anyway.<br />
<br />
Last year's garden was a trip to the local big box home fixer upper store with a garden center***, wherein I purchased plants - heirloom and cherry tomatoes, petunias, pansies, snapdragons. Somewhere I picked up some green peppers, plants or seeds I cannot recall. (I suspect they were dollar section seeds.) And things were good! The heirloom tomato plant was appropriately prolific, though I think my choice of container limited it somewhat. (Similar <a href="http://www.target.com/p/Home-Beverage-Tub-Dark-Bronze-16/-/A-12466314#?lnk=sc_qi_detailbutton" target="_blank">here</a>. But not really, because mine was the cheap red plastic version on clearance. Score!) The green peppers followed a similar course. Overall, successful enough to make me ambitious this year.<br />
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This year, the garden has expanded. Flowers were relegated to a few spare, small pots - pansy and snapdragons seeds from last year. (Please, please let the sprouts I see NOT be more rogue petunias!) The bulk of the garden -- 2 of my beverage bins of red plastic awesomeness + 2 balcony boxes + a raspberry bush! That is flowering! (I am worried about a distinct lack of bees / pollinators of any sort. Maybe I should send the ya-hoos out to stick their grubby little fingers all over and hope pollination happens that way. Oy, I know there's a terrible joke in there somewhere related to puberty and general boy grossness.) The green onions are already growing, and a cucumber (or zucchini...I don't remember which box is which at this point), sprouted today! Overnight - literally! (Clearly these are fascinating times. And I don't get out much. Whatever.) Green pepper seeds harvested last year are being given a second shot with more space, and jalapeno seeds have been planted in the hopes of diversifying our pepper output. <br />
<br />
So. Not one of those sophisticated setups, but it's a start. And it's more than what we even have time for right now, but something about growing my own food has always appealed to me. Even if it's just a little bit at a time, I'll go for it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>* Two years ago was the first "yard" - balcony boxes of cosmos, calendula, and marigolds galore. They were beautiful. Unruly, but beautiful. Harvested bajillions of seeds, especially cosmos and marigolds. Will have to add those to the list to plant next year. Because seeds last indefinitely, right? :)? Also hit up a well-known dollar section, ("the fun stuff section," as the ya-hoos are wont to call it), and snagged seeds for a strawberry plant and a basil plant. The strawberry plant was given approximately 3 years before I axed it, (sacrificing a few measly unedible "berries" a year for the space to plant! more! things!)</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">**I think this may be my new business venture. Mail-order petunias. Purple. Only. Forever. Because that's how many seeds were apparently sown</span></i>. <br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">***Which thankfully was NOT Lowe's, those Muslim-hating bigots. :)</span></i>Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-53647248804814944542012-05-10T09:25:00.001-05:002012-05-10T09:25:51.380-05:00FindMyAccident.com - are you serious?!Appalling. I cannot believe stuff like this exists. Given an unbelievably thin veneer of "wanting to help," the website <a href="http://FindMyAccident.com/">FindMyAccident.com</a> crassly publishes motor vehicle accidents across the US. With details apparently garnered from a hodge-podge collection of sources, including police reports, accident victims, eyewitnesses, and random voyeuristic users (all of these people unverified, mind you), this site composes an erroneous summation of any number of vehicular accidents. The worst part - aside from the blatant insensitivity (to put it mildly) - is that FindMyAccident.com participates in rampant supposition and furthering of unfounded claims regarding those individuals involved in the accident.<br />
<br />
Please don't tell me you are trying to help victims of accidents by offering lawyer connections, bolstering accounts of accidents with putative eyewitness information, and being a general community do-gooder website. BS. This is far and away purely voyeuristic, and the folks who conceived that site and are in charge of running it should be ashamed of themselves for allowing very real tragedies to become just another piece of rubbernecking fodder.Mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09872731970907572717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-42765584206554669812010-06-04T20:09:00.002-05:002010-06-04T20:18:10.558-05:00TamingNaming the Beast(s)So. I think I mentioned those cats. (See: <a href="http://hasanyoneseenmybootstraps.blogspot.com/2010/06/youre-still-here.html">CONE OF SHAME</a>.) <br /><br />Technically, they have names. We've been over this. However, I need something more descriptive. I mean, "Tap?" What does that really <i>mean</i>, anyway? So let me give you a quick rundown of the various monikers these beasts have had in the whole six days we have had them.<br /><br />*May Day --> Maytag --> Grumble --> Poopcat --> Grumble<br /><br />*May Flower --> Whirlpool/Kenmore/Jenn-air --> Tap --> Stiiiiiiiin<i>KY</i> --> @^F&#(*) !!<br /><br />You see what happened there? Grumble redeemed herself. Upon removal of the Cone of Shame, she shaped up re: the general cleanliness of cats. <br /><br />Tap, however. Tap is downright manic, and is an absolute booger when it comes to mischief. And continuing to do what you just told her not to. And doing it again. And then again. And then I finally carry her by the scruff of her neck and unceremoniously dump her in her catbed for a kitty timeout. 'Cuz she'll totally learn from that, right? What - she won't??<br /><br />So. Yeah. Those cats. Endless entertainment for the kids. WHICH REMINDS ME. Haha, Tap, this is called "coming full circle" - you have officially been tortured by The Despot.* He's a pretty good tail puller, isn't he? And he keeps doing it, doesn't he? Ahhh, I knew we had kids for a reason.**<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*Okay, peeps, seriously. THE CAT IS NOT BEING ABUSED. YOU DO NOT NEED TO CALL THE HUMANE SOCIETY. It was a friendly tail grab between, well, friends.<br /><br />**Okay, also seriously. THE KIDS ARE LOVED. YOU DO NOT NEED TO CALL CHILDCARE PROTECTION SERVICES. We had them for more than just animal control.Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-33926222350436490622010-06-02T19:23:00.002-05:002010-06-04T20:19:15.944-05:00You're still here??Whoooooaaa, Nelly! It has done been almost a month and a-half since I posted here. (Truth to tell: I haven't even visited here the whole time, either. Forgive me, little blog!)<br /><br />Some odds and ends to report, nothing that seems earth-shatteringly important. Got 2 kittens. One is uber-mischevious. The other is uber-...well, right now, uber-ucky. Not entirely her fault (though it is). The kittens were spayed just over a week ago, and the ucky one wouldn't leave the surgical site alone. 'Round here, <i>that</i>, my friends = CONE OF SHAME. Which is great and all, except for when she uses the litterbox. <br /><br />She will inevitably return with cat poo ringing her cone of shame. (As if it wasn't shameful enough before??) <br /><br />So, yeah. Not quite sure how that works, what with the cone of shame being AT THE POLAR OPPOSITE OF HER BUSINESS END OF THINGS. But whatever, it is what it is. <br /><br />I Windex her Cone of Shame. Ha<i>ha!</i> I shall sanitize these feral outdoor beasts yet! <br /><br />So, what else. Nothing that can't continue to wait. Maybe some reviews at some point. Maybe some recipes. Maybe a discussion of upcoming plans. Maybe some quotable quotes from the kids. Maybe some FUBAR stuff, that's always fun! <br /><br />Or maybe another six weeks of absolutely nothing.<br /><br />Aren't you just on pins and needles with anticipation?Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-49547854623942954092010-04-23T20:47:00.005-05:002010-04-23T22:11:44.730-05:00I Should've Been a Boy ScoutFruit Loop is in the throes of a pretty gross cold. We're talking stuffy nose, junky cough, even more junky <i>junk</i> coming out of his nose...Really slimy, colorful, delightful stuff. <br /><br />Today we are driving to the store, cruising* down the highway, when I hear a voice pipe up from the back seat:<br /><br />"Tissue!"<br />...<br />"Mom, I need a tissue!"<br />...<br />"Mom, do we have any tissues?"<br /><br />Since his stuffy-voiced self was asking more urgently each time, I finally paid attention. (Heh. Kidding. No, I don't ignore him. He just repeats things at quarter-second intervals until you acknowledge and answer. And then you have to repeat yourself at LEAST another three times. And then you have to scold him for not paying attention. After you repeat yourself one last time. Yelling. Just typing that makes me tired. UGH.) I tell him I'm driving, he'll have to wait until we get to a stop where I can get him a tissue.<br /><br />(For the record, we DO have tissues in the car. It's just that they are over in the glovebox. Stashed away, keeping the rest of the car nice and organized and presentable and UNCLUTTERED. Which, you know, would TOTALLY BE A LOST CAUSE IF THAT TISSUE PACKET WASN'T KEPT FIRMLY IN THE GLOVEBOX. Where it belongs. The little outcast.) <br /><br />ANYway.<br /><br />So I tell him he needs to wait.<br /><br />"But, Mom, look!"<br /><br />I look. And ask <i>"What?"</i><br /><br />"A boogie!"<br /><br />Indeed, a boogie. Right there, on the edge of his finger. A boogie which he has just extracted from his nose with said finger. A boogie which is now precariously close to becoming one with the interior of our minivan. And I mean that in the grossest way possible.<br /><br />GAH. But I can't get him a tissue. We will surely have an accident and DIE. So all I am left with is the same injunction: <br /><br />"You'll just have to wait." (I'm pretty sure I preceded that w/ an "Ewww, Fruit Loop!" And quite possibly** a wince and an eyeroll at my lot in life. You know, the part in the mom job description that says I will be the boogie picker upper.)<br /><br />Okay, so, fast-forward to our destination. Just before we get out of the car, Fruit Loop says his nose hurts a little inside. I tell him that often happens when you have a cold, raw skin, blah blah blah.<br /><br />A few minutes later, as I come around to get him out of the car, I ask if he needs his tissue and where the boogie is. <br /><br />"I put it back."<br /><br />You put it back??<br /><br />"In my nose. That's why my nose hurts inside. Because of the boogie. It's hard."<br /><br />He put it back. I don't know whether to applaud his resourcefulness or just...ewww, Fruit Loop! <br /><br />I ended up just laughing. Which, of course, he thoroughly appreciated.<br /><br />Take-home lesson of the day: Be prepared. In case, you know, you pick your nose and have nowhere to put your petrified boogie.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i>*Not really - it's Friday, and that means TRAFFIC. But not important. This time, anyway.</i><br /><br /><i>**No, definitely.</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-41830039164823877482010-04-23T20:38:00.002-05:002010-04-23T20:46:16.118-05:00Caution: Adults OnlyWell, not really. (C'm'on, people, this isn't <i>that</i> kind of show.)<br /><br />We have a Netflix subscription. Often we'll alternate between kids' movies and "grown-up movies" in the mail. Let me state right now, for the record, that "grown-up" is not my preferred vernacular. Being the mature and serious soul that I am, I prefer referring to things as, well, they truly are: kids are kids, "grown-ups" are adults. Naturally, I raised Fruit Loop accordingly. Kid are kids, adults are adults.<br /><br />(Ha, funny story: File this under The World According to Fruit Loop (and Most Every Other Preschooler on up to Teenager.) Apparently, only kids get to do fun things. And adults only get to do boring things. AND NEVER THE TWAIN SHALL MEET. This proclamation was delivered with such solemnity, such forbearance, such dejection ... yet such noble martyrdom, as Fruit Loop came to terms with the fact that he, too, would one day grow up, and, thus, would only do boring things. But, until then, we parents are the ones doing the boring things. And we are totally not allowed to do any fun things. That is within his purview, and his alone.)<br /><br />Back to our story. We live in a large building. And, as you can guess, large buildings have large, communal mail rooms. Hundreds of boxes. Hundreds of tenants. <br /><br />I don't know how many times Fruit Loop asked if it was kids' movie from Netflix, and I replied "No, it's an adult movie," and people looked at us funny, and little old ladies fainted, and other parents covered their children's ears... Because, really now. <br /><br />I have since started referring to adult things as "grown-up" things. <br /><br />Besides, I'm prrrrretty sure Netflix doesn't dabble in the adult entertainment industry.Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-19884681305091142802010-04-21T13:37:00.004-05:002010-04-21T19:54:18.512-05:00And THIS Is What I Left Medical School For:REJECTION.<br /><br />By a 12-month-old.<br /><br />Doesn't get much more lame than that, folks. <br /><br />Right, so The Despot is a bit of an independent sort. It's not uncommon for him to wander off exploring whatever he deems worth his attention. He's perfectly happy to be in a different room, away from me and/or Fruit Loop, content to babble his way through one of those randomly fascinating baby experience <i>things</i>, (e.g., banging the cupboard doors, peering out the window, flapping loose electrical cords around...you know, the usual). <br /><br />So that's today's scene. He's been off doing his own thing for a few minutes, and I had a few minutes' worth of downtime, so I decided to go find him and see what he was up to. (I know, I'm a totally responsible mom. No risk of child endangerment here!) Turns out he's busy with one of his favorite pastimes: opening and closing the bathroom door. This time there's a twist, though, and that is: he typically does this w/ the bathroom door when someone is in the bathroom. Today, however, there is nobody. Lights are off, nobody home. He is sitting inside, closing the door and muttering to himself. <br /><br />Of course, I know how much he loves this game, and loves to exercise his 12-month-old power and close the door! Haha! Take THAT, overbearing adult lady! So I think I'll open the door and we'll play around. Yet what do I hear when I open the door? What greets my expectant ears? Yells! And a most forceful CLOSING of the door - the little booger wasn't even going to let me in! <br /><br />When I finally do manage to squeeze my way through, he scoots back and starts flailing his arms, kicking his heels against the floor, yelling in protest. <br /><br />Dude, I'm that bad? Really? <br /><br />My poor, rejected self can take a hint even from a 12-month-old. I and my bruised ego slunk away, and The Despot went back to happily playing by himself. In the bathroom. Alone. In the dark. <br /><br /><br />*****<br /><br />On a more positive note: I have consumed over a pound of chocolate-covered pretzels in the last 24 hours.<br /><br />It's for my high metabolism.*<br /><br />Seriously.<br /><br /><i>*(I don't have high metabolism. Shhh!)</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-72113690537428805122010-04-20T20:18:00.002-05:002010-04-20T20:31:45.461-05:00How Smart is Mr. Goldfish (& Other Random Thoughts)Mr. Goldfish lives next to the computer here on the desk. He isn't one of those flippy-out-y fish that, well, flips out anytime someone looks at him the wrong way. Or breathes funny. Or comes anywhere in his general area. Mr. Goldfish is actually quite social - and it's an intelligent kind of social, not a random "oh, gee willickers, someone's coming my way, they must be going to feed me, foooooooood" kind of way. Interestingly, he knows exactly when we are going to feed him versus dink around on the computer. Smart guy. I didn't give Mr. Goldfish enough credit for that. Or didn't think he had enough brain cells. Whatever. (I'm a fish person, really!)<br /><br />***<br /><br />Two sick kids at home. Which is barely above tolerable as long as Hottie McHotts and I stay above the weather. Which may not be for much longer, since over dinner we both mentioned we weren't feeling too hot. This is ALL KINDS OF AWESOME.<br /><br />***<br /><br />The Sleep Situation Saga/Drama of My Life/Minutiae You Can't WAIT to Read About is on hold while the kids are sick. Even I'm not that dumb to set myself up for repeated failure and disappointment by expecting them to improve and sleep through the night all by themselves and whatnot. (But, oh, it would be nice!) <br /><br />***<br /><br />I desperately need to go grocery shopping. Keyword there is: shopping. I like spending money, and it can be on anything. I think I get the sweet end of the stick, and Hottie McHotts is stuck with, well...all of the hard work and self-congratulating and pride and other poor-excuse-for-but-still-called-feel-good <i>stuff</i> for being our breadwinner and making the bank for me to spend it all. <br /><br />But, no, seriously, we do need groceries. Milks (yes, plural - we all drink our own different kinds. Variety!), fruits, veggies, MEAT. We consume so much meat, guys. Every time I see those statistics about "the average American consumes XX pounds of ZZ meat in a year," I snort to myself - but don't do the real math for the amount of meat the average Bootstrap family consumes, because I'm sure it would be embarrassing. And many of the green and crunchy and granola-y folks would be all "FOR SHAME," and I would question whether we are singlehandedly both supporting the various meat industries while sentencing our future generations to a barren, used-up, and corrupted world. <br /><br />Whew. Glad I could get that one off my chest.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Just fed Mr. Goldfish. Wonder if he ate too quickly - he's swimming kind of lopsided right now... WHAT IF IT'S THE BLOAT??<br /><br /><img src = http://www.reviewjournal.com/lvrj_home/2003/Jul-21-Mon-2003/photos/bloat.jpg><br /><i>(You should thank me for putting that one up instead of <a href="http://www.fishpondinfo.com/fishcare/bigphoto.htm">the real thing</a>. Uggghh. And I thought the monthly version was bad.)</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-38785320729961689252010-04-19T18:24:00.003-05:002010-04-19T18:43:20.317-05:00Yes, I'm back, it was a harrowing ordeal.So. Done up and did one of them thar trip things on y'all. And now I'm postin' all "ATF" and stuff. (Yes. "ATF" = "after the fact." I <i>am</i> that cool. Or - hrm, high-killing thought - I am that <i>un</i>cool because that little trendy texting-/tweeting-based abbreviation may already exist and I am just <i>waaaaaaay</i> behind the times. Whatever. Whatever! I don't care, I tell you!)<br /><br />Recap: quick visit to visit family downstate. It was a fine trip (not really the harrowing ordeal to which I previously alluded - just being all dramatic), which is a relief, and I have returned home with two sick little kids in tow. Go figure. Sickness is becoming the hallmark of our trips, it would seem. <br /><br />The boys are still segregated in their sleeping arrangements. Fruit Loop will forever wake up at night and yell for me, I am sure of it. No matter how much coaxing, encouragement, whisper yelling, and outright threats of losing privileges, no TV, bodily harm, abandonment...Yeah, he just doesn't really take any of that seriously. So, for the timebeing, sleeping will...well, hopefully happen, and hopefully eventually somehow by an Act of Divine Intervention it will be sleeping through the night, UNINTERRUPTED, for all of us. <br /><br />What? I can dream, leave me alone.Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-35106441358463069772010-04-15T05:26:00.006-05:002010-04-19T18:44:09.950-05:00Why Do I Always Have to be the Bad Guy?Night #3 was...a slight improvement. Fruit Loop still woke up, but only once. The improvement lies in the fact that he only called me in there 1x before falling asleep. (I feel like I have typed hat before. However, for reasons that will soon become clear, I am too lazy/tired/fill-in-the-blank to go back and check older posts. (But: weeeeird. Have I told you this already? How could I have done that? <i>Before it even happened?</i>)<br /><br />ANYway. So that is all okay. Baby steps, (although, frankly, I'm looking for some more entirely <i>un</i>-age-appropriate 4-year-old steps. Nobody does high expectations and unreasonable demands like me!) The Despot, however. HOWEVER. Has decided to wake up progressively earlier. We are right around 5a now. <i>Ooof.</i><br /><br />I've been giving him the benefit of doubt, chalking his early rising up to The Sleeping Situation, but I think I need to put my foot down. (Or go to bed earlier.) (I have also been loathe to risk The Despot's crying waking Fruit Loop. 'Nuff said on that.) S.O.P. around here is no getting up/out of bed before 6a. I've been cutting him some slack, but w/ worsening of the early rising, I believe it is time to implement Plan: Momma's Gonna Leave You There 'Til She's Done Good and Ready to Come Git You.<br /><br /><i>Small aside: Dudes, how <u>exciting</u> is this? This is real, edge-of-your-seats, nailbiting drama here! Will they sleep? Won't they? Will they wake up once? Or twice? And who will wake up first? Will The Despot keep getting up early? Will Fruit Loop earn his morning of unlimited TV gluttony? And who shot J.R.??*</i><br /><br /><br /><i>*Full disclosure: That was before my time.</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-79960882573899605122010-04-14T19:39:00.002-05:002010-04-14T19:48:19.019-05:00So. Day (Night) 3. (I think.)How pathetic is that, I can't even keep track of how long this has been going on? (No, really, I can - it just takes a little work and situational reference. It really is night #3...Really.) <br /><br />So, yes. Tonight is the 3rd night of the whole "we got you a super sweet/phat/awesome bunkbed and now you have to actually sleep in it and maybe even share a room with your baby brother" <i>thing.</i> We have temporarily relocated The Despot (without sacrificing Mom and Dad's personal space - a victory in and of itself, wot wot!), and Fruit Loop has a few nights to get this sleeping <i>thing</i> under his belt. <br /><br />Here's a recap: <br /><br />Night 1: FAIL. After several false starts (and repeated wake-ups of The Despot), the boys finally went to sleep...For 2 hours, at which point Fruit Loop woke up CRYING. Real tears, sincere sadness because he was loooonely and miiiiiissed me. (<i>Awwww. I could feel my heart breaking. You know, underneath my Bad Cop Steely-Gazed exterior.</i>.) This was 10p, The Despot started wailing, which made Fruit Loop sob that much more, so I was left with the (easy out) option: call the whole thing off. Put Fruit Loop back on the couch, <i>fin.</i><br /><br />Night 2: The Despot is relocated. Fruit Loop spends about 30' calling back and forth to me for various questions/"needs"/whatever. He finally goes to sleep. 2h later, wakes up, I whisper yell at him, back to sleep for the rest of the night. IN HIS ROOM. IN HIS BUNKBED. Score one (kind of) for the good guys.<br /><br />Night 3: The Despot is still relocated. (BTW, the kid is an awesome sleeper. No problems sleeping through the night wherever he is in the house. Huzzah!) I believe Fruit Loop is actually asleep - w/ only 1 time calling out to me after he was put to bed. That is major success. Now if he actually does sleep through the night, no more waking up, no talking, no crying, no yelling for Mom and Dad ... (do you see this, this right here? This is our litany of "DON'Ts" before bedtime. Welcome to Fruit Loop's life.) ... Well, if all of that happens, I have promised him glorious things.<br /><br />Namely, I will teach him how to use the remote control for the cable/TV. And the clincher is: he can watch as much as he wants, starting as soon as he gets up. Ahhhh, thank you, Comcast, for incentivizing my child.Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-89406758097856535972010-04-13T06:08:00.003-05:002010-04-13T06:22:02.331-05:00Record SettingSo. Hrm. Yeah. Our little "experiment" last night lasted all of about 2 hours. Fruit Loop spent the rest of the night on the couch.<br /><br />Sooooooo...Night #2 tonight. Any ideas? The kid doesn't even remember what it's like to sleep in his own room, let alone on a real bed. <br /><br /><i>(Ha, as Hottie McHotts said last night: "A $XXXX bed, and he wants to sleep on the couch.")</i><br /><br />There are two problems to solve here. 1) Getting Fruit Loop to sleep through the night in his own room, own bed. 2) Getting Fruit Loop and The Despot to share a room. <br /><br />Maybe alternative sleeping arrangements need to be made for The Despot until Fruit Loop is fine w/ the own-bed, own-room idea. And we'll just cross our fingers and stock up on magical unicorn fairy dust to prevent any sleep problems occurring with The Despot through it all...<br /><br />But, darn the luck, Target seems to be fresh out of fairy dust. <br /><br /><i>Woe is me! All is lost!</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-46954254476284093462010-04-12T18:47:00.007-05:002010-04-12T19:27:09.712-05:00Movin' On UpOkay, interwebs, time for a small confession: Fruit Loop has not had his own bed for .... let's just say "quite some time." He has, in fact, been sleeping on the couch. (A very nice couch, might I add, but a couch nonetheless.) He used to have a bed. (A very nice bed, might I add...) Then I decided to take our Blueprint of Life and tear it into shreds and toss it up into the air like just so much confetti and figure out how to put it back together sometime after the pieces all floated down to the ground, got trampled on and torn, and the fun wore off.<br /><br />ANYway. More on that some other time. Or not. Whatever.<br /><br />So it is time. He has been upgraded to probably the best kids' bed ever. <br /><br />THE TOP BUNK.<br /><br /><i>(I cannot find you a picture that I can code in here. My powers, they are not great enough. Go <a href="http://www.nurserydecorland.com/product_info.php?products_id=918">here</a>. Or <a href="http://shopkidzroomz.com/sample/index.php?page=shop.product_details&product_id=47&flypage=flypage.tpl&pop=0&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=64&vmcchk=1&Itemid=64">here</a>.)</i><br /><br />His is a full over full, espresso finish, (not that he cared/had a say in the matter), and we opted out of the trundle drawer and staircase ideas. (He was a bit puzzled as to how it could possibly come with <i>only</i> a ladder. "No staircase? Just a <i>ladder?</i> But where are the stairs? A <i>ladder?</i>)<br /><br />The big challenge, though, is this: HE AND THE DESPOT WILL BE SHARING A ROOM. For the first time. EVER.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys.php" title="Smiley"><img src="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys/smiley-shocked019.gif" alt="Smiley" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Despot is a stellar sleeper. He goes down at 6p, with nary a peep until he awakes anywhere between 6-6:30a the following morning. A true champion of slumber, that one. IT IS WONNNDERFUL. Caveat: he is a light sleeper. He has had his own room for the last 3-4 months once we figured out him sleeping in Mom & Dad's room was what caused his frequent waking - our rolling over in bed (or snoring or sleeptalking or breathing funny?) would wake him up, and knowing that someone was there, in the room, NOT RESCUING HIM... Oy. So, problem solved, he gets his own room, fine. SLEEEEEP - success! <br /><br />Fruit Loop's sleep habits (OR LACK THEREOF) deserves a whole blog in and of itself. (Or should that be "themselves?") He still wakes up at night more frequently than not. He takes literally ages to fall asleep - usually anywhere from 1 to 1.5 hours. He will happily get up after only 8.5 hours of sleep, ready to take on the day. (But, oh, as only a parent knows, HE SO IS NOT. Ready, that is. Those days are...rough. Yes, we'll just leave it at that.) And, more than anything, he MUST talk. He must, upon first eyelid flicker, open his mouth and call for Mom. Incessantly. Until I arrive. Or Dad, if I am taking too long. (Fruit Loop is an equal opportunity disrupter.) (And: "too long" for him is approximately 1 nanosecond. Ish.) <br /><br />So you can understand my trepidation.<br /><br />It has been 20 minutes. <br /><br />They are quiet. I repeat:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys.php" title="Smiley"><img src="http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys/smiley-shocked018.gif" alt="Smiley" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i>Edited to add: I spoke too soon. GAAAAAAAAH.</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-45597469808525540302010-04-08T19:09:00.008-05:002010-04-09T21:11:38.517-05:00One of a KindI know you come to this blog for some real razor-sharp wit, scintillating discussion, and high-brow antics. I, being a people-pleaser and, thus, loathe to disappoint, hereby submit the following for your entertainment:<br /><br />Allow me to introduce my superhuman, collagen- and elastin-defying SUPERPOWERS!! <i>(As in, "HAHA, take THAT you denizens of firm, young, supple skin! You got NOTHIN' on US!" - said from somewhere around knee-level, as that is where my decidedly gravity-friendly boobage has decided to settle.)</i> I have acquired, seemingly overnight, the amazing - nay, jaw-droppingly astonishing - ability to stretch strategic parts of my body to lengths heretofore unimaginable. Granted, I don't have a whole lot of control over which parts do the stretching. Aaaand I'm prrreeeeetty sure this awesome stretch capability is a somewhat permanent thing. You know, unless I avail myself of OTHERS' superhuman powers of something like, oh, I don't know, <i>plastic surgery.</i> <br /><br />But whatever! So my wicked saddlebags and cameltoe combo is a bit lower than expected. It's the element of surprise! And does it REALLY matter if said boobage is in more danger of being hit by a toddler + trike driveby than a random groping by Hottie McHotts? <br /><br />Superhuman, I tell you - you won't find these gravity-friendly superpowers just anywhere! <i>(Or ARE they? Maybe they are SO extreme they are totally opposite, and have become gravity-<b>defying</b>...) </i><br /><br /><br /><br /><img src = http://www.disegnigratis.biz/Clipart_Disney/Gli%20Incredibili/elastigirl_4.jpg><br /><br /><i>Yeah, who's got skillz now?</i><br /><br /><br /><i>(And, as an added kicker, I am remarkably akin to a water-retaining seacow right now. HOOAH!)</i>Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8020236254587794988.post-28516579949867724562010-04-08T19:02:00.002-05:002010-04-08T19:09:03.049-05:00Pledge v. Swiffer AND . . .Henceforth, upon long absences and mysterious departures from this little blog, my joyous return shall be heralded by much feasting and sport. And, lo, our first such sporting contest shall duly enjoin the Might that is the House of Pledge and the Upstart that is the House of Swiffer, matched in a competition so great, so epic, that SOMEone shall go home victor...and someone not. I have yet to decide if the victor will be the one successful in clearing away all the dust this blog has accumulated in its short life thus far, or if that is a fate best left to the loser. Hrm. Details. Eh.<br /><br />That being said, I am back! You are welcome! Be still, your beating hearts. All we did was move. And it wasn't even a huge move - it was in the same apartment building and everything. So, yeah, not much explanation for my absence other than sheer, agonizing moving-related LAZINESS. <br /><br />For now: that is all. On with the contest! (Whar is mah FEAST??)Bootstrap Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16610187168428839455noreply@blogger.com0