Once upon a time, a blog was started at AOL Journals. The scales fell from the eyes of The Creator and it was moved to Wordpress. Then Journals tanked and all old posts were moved here for safekeeping.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Prom 1985

Lookit how cute I was.  And the dress.  Once it fit, but it was no less garish.


the photos

Hey look!  I was still able to get into my prom dress!



But, uh, this is the back view...



Early 80s hoop skirt dresses are really good for smuggling children.  Not that many people WANTED to smuggle kids into a prom, but still.  The option was there.





here's me in the pink skirt.  But I was alone in the house with no one to chronicle my wondrousness.  So you get the flash in the mirror.  It gives me an angelic cast, I think.



Here's me and Bill, the old boyfriend.  Look how we're totally Not Touching:



Admire the necklace there, too.  Made it that afternoon.  And the day before.  It took a long time.

And here's me with Christy, my best friend from high school.  When I looked at this picture, I thought, "Crap.  that totally looks like a photo from someone's 20 year high school reunion."



And this has nothing at all to do with the reunion, but look how cuuuute:


Sunday, August 21, 2005

Reunion Weekend Part Two

I went with the pink skirt.  I was slightly overdressed, but not notably so.  And it was worth it to have my imaginary friends with me, since a computer friend in Ohio had lent me the skirt.  I was even able to wear my shoes the whole time, impressive considering that it has been YEARS since I wore any sort of heel at all.  I won't be saving up for Jimmy Choos any time soon, but at least I have a pair of girly shoes I can call up when I need them.  Pictures when I get back home...

Most commonly heard phrase last night: This is so surreal.  And it was strange.  It's weird to see people at 18, blink, and they're nearly 40.  Which, apparently, means I got old too.  Less hair, more belly.  Except for THOSE girls, you know the ones, they have more hair and less belly.  I don't like those girls.  I saw one woman I'd been friendly with and I told her she looked great b/c she did.  She said, "Oh, I do not, I know I got fat."  I told her that I wasn't impressed by people who had clearly been working at their look.  I said, "You look like a grown-up woman who still looks great."  I thought she was going to hug me.  And then she returned the compliment by saying "Where do you live now?" and when I told her, she said, "REally?  I thought you must live in a city because you look so chic."  So we're in love now.

Speaking of which...My old boyfriend showed up.  He graduated two years ahead of me, so it was extra freaky to have him show.  He just dropped into say hi.  He was head drum major, I was in the band front as a pom pom girl...how very very high school.  It was nice to see him, let him see that I was no longer a lithesome lass with long blonde tresses.  So just get on with your life, dude.  Really.

Odd thing at reunions--having people tell stories about you and you don't remember what on earth they're talking about.  I did?  Really?  Me?  You're sure it was me?  And then someone else backs up the story.  Memory is strange.  What each of us recalls about the chorus trip to Disney might actually reconstruct the whole trip, if we got together.  But I did NOT remember people getting beer.  There was a lot of underage drinking of which I was not a part.  I was a Good Girl. I had only one sip of alcohol--champagne at Gabi's house on New Year's Eve.  That's it.  But, judging from the slide show, there was a lot of partying.  Turns out I was much less popular than I thought.  But I didn't know at the time, so I guess it's okay.  Hmpf.  Losers didn't know what they were missing.

The awards presentation went really well.  Well enough that Troy, who'd backed out of being the emcee, told Barbara that it was very well received and he wished he'd done it after all.  Neener neener, you big coward.  And the worthless waste of air that I remain bitter about and was very careful to give NO award to, b/c she's had far more than her share of attention in life?  Still a horrible bitch.  Only without feathered hair.  I received validation when today, at the family breakfast and tour of the high school, Steve said, "Wow that woman in the white shirt, with the little girl in a red dress is a terrible mother."  yep, that was her.  Telling a 2 year old that she was going to leave her in this really mean tone.  See?  I told you.  Me and Harry Potter.  We know evil when we see it, even if no one else believes.

The tour of the high school was odd.  Three years ago the school was basically gutted and built anew.  It's MUCH nicer than the high school I attended.  Hell, it's nicer than the college I attended.  Except for one thing.  The library has almost no books.  What is up with that?  It's a library.  The Latin root MEANS books.  Rows and rows of computers.  It pisses me off.  Does that make me some kind of luddite?  I mean, books are books and computers are computers.  There is some overlap, sure, but they aren't the same.  Reading is nice.  I don't think they had ANY fiction.  That just sucks.

I'll post pics soon...

 

 

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Reunion weekend Part One

So I'm all alone at my folks house. Steve and the kids are at the ILs house in NJ.  Tonight is my 20 year high school reunion.  I went to an ice breaker thing at a sports bar last night.  soooo hard to recognize people you only half-knew 20 years ago.  I met my friend Mimi and her beau, Gary.  They're college professors in Washington state, so they're still cool.  At one point, Gary asked us if we noticed any old high school behaviors manifesting in the crowd. I looked around..."Well, just the fact that Mimi and I are at a table by ourselves making fun of everyone else..." 

I was put in charge of the "awards" part of the evening, so I studied the survey responses and came up w/some awards and then wrote a script to go with it. It was hard, really, to write something funny for a diverse audience.  I can't be too mean, but too nice just isn't funny.  I have new respect for Bruce Villanch. The guy who was going to be the presenter decided that the script was "too mean."  The other reunion committee people also thought it was funny, so they didn't just say, fine, make it up yourself.  They offered to clear the awards with the recipients before announcing them.  Still no dice.  So I'm doing it.  Ahem.  I'm going to need a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  "Hey you guys.  I jus' wanna say that I hate all of you.  And I've been waiting 20 years for this!"

I'm hoping it will be fun.  I listened to the 80s mix CD Barbara burned to give out this evening.  I'm in charge of the "memoribilia" room, so I'm excused from having to mingle or dance.  Yay.  No I just have to finish making my necklace and decide between the little black dress and the big pink silk skirt...

 

Monday, August 15, 2005

Shake it all about

I signed Lily up for a pre-dance class at the Y.  I ache to stick her in a little pink leotard and ballet slippers.  When Julianna was this age, I was Ms. No Gender Stereotyping and stuck her in the Li'l Greasemonkeys Auto Shop for Tots.  Now I figure, Screw it, someone is wearing a tutu and it ain't gonna be me. 

I made the mistake of TELLING her there would be a dance class in her future and every day she asks, "Is today my dance class?"  or just asserts, "Today is my dance class."  Neither of which seems to work.  And "third Monday in September" has very little meaning to an almost 3 year old.  I'm pretty stupid, it seems.

So today, we show up for Ben's usual Monday gym class (which I've forgotten about about 1/4 of the time), and not only are the Harlem Globetrotters there opening a basketball camp ("The REAL Harlem Globetrotters, Mom?!?  They're still ALIVE!"  Just like on Scooby Doo!"), but there's an open house for the dance program.  And Lily's age group meets at precisely the same time as Ben's class.  Woo-hoo!  Mommy actually managed to get to something on time!  Sure, it was totally by accident, but really, that's the only way it's going to happen.

"You mean it's my DANCE CLASS?  ToDAY?  NOW?!?  YAAAAAAYYY!" bounce bounce bounce.  Those who know Lily know that she bounced through this whole delivery and the for some time afterwards.  She's bouncy
bouncy,  bouncy bouncy, fun fun fun fun fun.  Thank goodness she's the only one.  The little girls streamed in and Miss Becky called them over to sit around her.  Honestly, I don't know how Miss Becky keeps from just exploding from the cuteness.  So they did some circle-timey stuff and did the hokey pokey (augh!  my head!  the cute!).  Then she passed out plastic tambourines.  Which, stupidly, come in a variety of colors, not all of which are pink.  "I want pink!"  "I want pink!"  "I want a pink one!"  Miss Becky calmly asserted that you get what you get and shut the hell up (well, I added that part.  Which is why I don't teach preschoolers ANYTHING.  The judge was very firm on that point).  Then later, they all held hands in a circle and pulled in really close to Miss Becky.  She said, "We're going to blow up the balloon!  We start in close like this and then we'll blow up the balloon bigger and bigger and make our circle wider and wider!  Okay?!" 

"It's a pink balloon!"

"Okay, it'll be a pink balloon.  Okay, ready?"

"I like pink!"

"Right!  Pink balloon!  Okay!"

*sobbed* "But I like puuurrrple!"

another little girl tries to help "We can make it a purple and pink balloon!"

Miss Becky: "Great! Good idea!  Purple and pink balloon!  Let's go!"

"With orange!"

Poor Miss Becky.

They got out a pink balance beam thingy that lay flat on the ground.  Miss Becky said, "This is my bridge!  It goes over a river.  What's in the river?"  Some of the girls who'd had class before shouted "Crocodiles!"  "And what happens if your toes slip off?"  "They bite 'em!!!!!"  Lily headed over to me.  "Mommy.  They have...crocodiles."  The expression on her face said, "Did you look into this program at ALL before signing me up?"  But she gamely trotted right over it.   The Good Job Mom at the end of the beam nearly peed herself "Good JOB!  WOW!"  Lady.  please. 

Shortly after that, my fears were realized and Lily suddenly remembered that I'd promised to get her pink ballet shoes before dance class.  Much sobbing.  Much anger.  And how to explain, "Well, this isn't really the dance class that you've been waiting and waiting for.  Mommy just happily stumbled onto this and had no preparation at all.  Your dance class still isn't for about a month."  We got through it, though.  How I hate public parenting.

After class they were selling used ballet slippers.  We got a pair that more or less fit.  So now she has her pink shoes.  And THAT's what it's all about (clap clap).

Beat the holiday rush

The plunger remains the hot toy in this household.  It has, of course,  been a gun and a sword (what hasn't?).  Ben turned it into a horse by sticking the plungy end into a metal bucket for a "head."  Lily used it as a magic wand (bippity boppity e coli!) .  They argue over who gets it next.  All this for only $1.99!

For those of you who are cringing, I'm reasonably certain that the plunger has never been used for...plunging.  I bought it for the upstairs bathroom when we moved into this fancy pants two-bath house.  Captain Toilet Paper conducts his business downstairs, so I can't recall a clog in the upstairs toilet (for whatever reason, I'm suddenly reminded of when I first moved to Delaware as a kid and was confused to find that people called the toilet a "hopper."  Do they do that anywhere else?).  I'm sure it's clean enough to drink out of.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Look ma, no hands!

Ben just walked into my office, naked but for tie dyed socks and navy blue lace up sneakers, carrying a plunger.  "MOM! I came up with a new way to carry a plunger!  If any one needs one and you don't want to have to hold it or something, look, you can just stick it to your chest!"



Well son.  That's damned inventive.  And not at all strange.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Back from the beach

We made a spur-of-the-moment trip to Delaware to stay with my folks at their house on the Delaware Bay.  They bought the place for 35K cash, I believe, in 1980 or so, using  money my mom got following a nasty car accident (trade a knee for some beachfront, anyone?).  Just a little 1950s cottage, but right on the beach.  I've always adored it, but in spite of its flaws.  It's pretty ramshackle.  Not quite Kaczynski,  but there's always some sort of repair work going on.  I'm sure it's just a HUGE pain in the butt to my folks but I'm so glad they've hung onto it b/c I just feel my cares fall away when I walk over the dune.  Dorky?  yeah, but you've not been there.  It's just NICE.  Which, I guess, explains why nearby properties are selling for 700K-1 mil.  Which makes it even nicer that the folks have hung onto it, however fiscally foolish that might be. 

The beach is called Primehook, it's between Slaughter beach and Broadkill beach.  Near the Murderkill River. No, really.   I think Wes Craven has a place there.

Ben was just in heaven.  He said, "I love this place" a dozen times and asked if we could have all future family vacations there.  Trash picker that he is, he just loved walking along finding crap.  Shells, rocks, seaweed, spent fireworks, empty shotgun shells...  I'm not quite at peace with not being able to see below the surface of the water.  I went in with Lily, but I just felt on edge, waiting for something to grab my ankle.  Something did bump me and I leapt to shore in one leap.  Probably not raising my Macho Mom score, esp. since Julianna had had to peel me off her head after a crab scuttled across my foot the evening before.  I mean, I'm not askeered a no crabs, it just...startled me.

Bugs, ew.  Why do nice places have to have bugs?  Flies that bite, sand fleas.  Wednesday night we had some sort of Amityville infestation of weeny little mothy things.   To think I used to live down there w/the windows open.  Youth is a time of perkier boobs and steelier nerves.

We hit the boardwalk, which I love eternally.  Actually, the Ocean City, Maryland one ranks better on sheer beach-cheezy-wondrousness, but since I grew up with Rehoboth, it remains dear to my heart.  The kids rode rides at Funland, the cheapest amusement park on earth and I wondered how it could be this hot and not have everything just melt.  Wretched.

Listened to more Harry Potter on the ride home. Loving it.  Don't tell me ANYTHING about it.


Saturday, August 6, 2005

Red diaper baby

Lily is marching, naked, around the house chanting "Hey hey, ho ho, Things have got to go!"  Where did this come from?  I mean, sure, she's genetically inclined to chant rhyme-y slogan-y things, but  naked?  So retro.

Cuidado! Zombies!

So, I'm driving Julianna and her pal Ally home from camp (camp songs! Sung really fast! Now with extra volume and laughter!), and they're doing some weird-ass camp thing where someone burps and then two other people shout out a color and the burper has to make an animal noise...at least I THINK that was the procedure, I was just playing along because I'm a Cool Mom...and Julianna was doing the alpaca noise that her counselor taught them (another aside--the counselors had pseudonyms: Alpaca, Angel, and Kool-Aid.  What the hell is that about?  If this hadn't been a Girl Scout camp, no way would I have left my first born in the care of people who won't tell  me their names.  Oh, and one artificial coloring-deprived Brownie thought that Kool-Aid was so named b/c she was a "cool aide."  Which, apparently, she wasn't because "she yelled all the time and was always fighting."  She was Irish.  Probably drunk. ), and it was this weird whooping noise.  I said that the only noise I'd heard alpacas make was a kind of moan.  I made the noise.  Ben said, "That sounds like a zombie."  "Oh, they ARE zombies.  When llamas die, they come back as zombies.  We just call them alpacas because that's less creepy."  "Really?"  God bless the child.

just a heads up

My plans for world domination have been facilitated by the purchase of hair "molding putty."  According to the box: Work through hair for a seperated (sic) piece-y look.  Tweak and distort until you achieve ultimate chaos.

Just so you know.  I didn't want you to be all freaked when civilization falls.  It's just my hair.  If you bow before me, I'll see that you get good positions in the New Dis-Order.

Thursday, August 4, 2005

well crap

We lost a piggie.  Poppy (who in the photos was described as "Sunflower" but was named Poppy.  "Poppy" was renamed Thistle.  Follow?) had been the biggest baby, but just wasn't growing and thriving for whatever reason.  I noticed he/she was slow on Tuesday and by Wednesday, he was hardly moving at all.  I picked him up and noticed he had boogery eyes and nose, a sign of an upper respiratory infection.  I called Michelle at Small Angels and she picked up some antibiotics at the vet's.  I got some kitten formula and even expressed a bit of Lily's Private Reserve b/c hey, my diet is closer to a pig's than a cat's is.  I carried Poppy around in my bra and fed him w/an eyedropper whenever he'd take it.  But he just didn't make it through the night.  It makes me really sad.  AND he was Julianna's favorite, so I have to greet her return from camp with this news.  *sigh*  So I have a dead baby guinea pig in my freezer (in case Julianna wanted to help bury him) and TWICE today I have nearly yanked the bag out to see what was in it.   Does it make me a bad person that when Lily was standing in the open freezer door demanding to know every possible thing to eat, part of me wanted to offer her pig?  Yeah, I thought so.

The other three babies are crazy cute, though and seem very healthy.  So healthy that I can't get pics of them b/c they never stop moving.

And speaking of moving.  And moving on in my can't-deal-with-sad way...I'm loving "So You Think You Can Dance."  I like to watch dancers.  I like snark.  It's a great combination!  HATE the ballroom instructor.  LOVE the lyrical instructor and the cute little hip hop boy (not the one with the B Free hat.  ew.).  Don't want Blake to win.

Tuesday, August 2, 2005

Fun at the Salon

I had to take Lily with me to get my hair cut and colored at the Too Expensive Salon.  Thereby hangs a tale, but first, a digression--why isn't there something between crap-ass $25 hair cut and really good $75 hair cut?  I'd settle for a better-than-most $50 cut.  And why won't my hair stay blonde, like it used to, and save me even more money?  Can't show up at the 20 year reunion with a mousy dishwatery brown, can we?  So instead of "schlumpy housewife," my hair says "overweight lesbian."  Much cooler, no?  Pixie cuts don't look as pixie-ish once you hit size 14.

So anyway, I loaded up my bag into a mobile day-care unit.  Portable DVD player, 2 Strawberry Shortcake DVDs, 4 My Little Ponies, Many books, both Suess and Wells, unhealthy snacks.  She was distracted by each of these items for a few moments.  Mostly, she skipped back and forth between me and the Aveda makeup carousel.  "Mommy!  I'm gonna go wook at da toenail powish!"  Okay, honey. Skip skip skip. Look Look Look.  Skip Skip Skip.  "Mommy!  I'm gonna go wook at da toenail powish!" Okey doke! 
Skip skip skip. Look Look Look.  Skip Skip Skip.  "Mommy!  I'm gonna go wook at da toenail powish!"  Hey!  good idea!  Skip skip skip. Look Look Look.  Skip Skip Skip.  "Mommy!  I'm gonna go wook at da toenail powish!"  oKAY.  enJOY.  Jeez, kid... and so on.  Eventually, she found a captive audience in the receptionist.  I heard her ask Lily, "How old are you?"  "Two."  "Wow, two?  You're a good talker!"  Lily said, "How old are YOU?"  "I'm 24."  "You a good talker, too!"  Take THAT.  Of course the child is a good talker.  She hasn't shut up for almost 2 years.

Still no call from the YMCA begging me to come get Ben...

Julianna is still in Pennsylvania...

The baby pigs.  Oh, so cute.

Monday, August 1, 2005

School year preview

I took Julianna to sleep-away Brownie camp yesterday.  I can't believe my ultra-clingy Mama's Girl is now able to spend five nights away from home.  I took her and her friend Ally up and they tortured me with loud off-key singing for 2.5 hours.I also got to listen in on their discussions of which boys in their class had crushes on which girls.  They were horrified to think that one boy might have liked them, because crushes--ew.  Julianna said she told the boy that she would help him with his room chores if he'd say "I hate you."  No wonder boys get confused.  The trip home was shorter and quieter and I got to finally start listening to Harry Potter.

Then today, Ben started a week of day camp at the Y.  All day, everytime the phone rang, I steeled myself to see "Frederick County YMCA" on the caller ID, but he made it!  And no one met me at the door, grim-faced!  I'm hoping it holds.  So it was just Lily and I today, a preview of the school year to come.  I spent it cleaning Ben's room.  A Sisyphean task, to be sure.  Tomorrow, the next boulder--Julianna's room.

And speaking of things in Julianna's room, the baby pigs get cuter.  Those big ears.  How they kill me.  Michelle, of the animal resuce, said that she believes baby guinea pigs can fly at night when no one is looking.  I choose to believe that too.

In cutey news, Lily has taken to telling me that she is "tipping toe" when she walks about on her toes.  It sounds so sophisticated.  Needs a pinky in the air.

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