The Hill

Because we are awesome, Mistah and I went to Federal Hill to celebrate our twenty-second wedding anniversary.

Double-deuces, baby.

We were excited to have a room overlooking Mary DePasquale Square, so we could lord over the peeps, like the Pope.

Who doesn't want to lord over the peeps like the Pope?

In the meantime, we went to the markets . . .

Ohhhh, those markets.

The Federal Hill Markets are why the peeps go to Federal Hill . . .

. . . well, the market are why *we* go to Federal Hill . . .

. . . oh, and the wine too.

We got happy hour trappings and went right back to our room's balcony so we could enjoy selfsame happy hour, and lord over the peeps . . .

. . . like the Pope.

Hmmm. No peeps yet. Soon, they'll be here soon.

5 p.m. finally arrived . . . on Friday of a Holiday Weekend . . .

. . . and still no peeps.

I mean, I know the Hill was getting ready to close down its streets for three days to celebrate their man Columbus, but . . . where's the peeps?

But we didn't care.  We put on our glad rags and headed out to celebrate 22 years of wedded bliss.

No, really!

And when we got back home?

Yeah, no peeps.

But what do we care about peeps?

We had eachother . . .

. . . we had a supercool hotel room . . .

. . . .we lorded over the square like the Pope . . .

. . . albeit a Pope with no constituents . .  .

. . . . and oh, those Atwells Ave Markets.

Happy Columbus Day, friends!

tv head

I recently had occasion to seek solace in an endless stream of passive entertainment. Yay, Netflix! I had many, many hours to kill so I asked my family for their opinions about which Netflix shows I should binge watch.  Here are their suggestions, along with my review and commentary:

1. Well let me start by saying that I've already watched Orange is the New Black. Otherwise that would have been a justifiable numero uno.

2. Breaking Bad - watched the first 3 (4? got as far as a certain bathtub/ceiling incident). Really good, riveting. I can see why it won all of the things. I will continue this one fo sho.

3. Sons of Anarchy - watched the first 2 episodes. It's a no for me, despite the hotness of Jacks. It's too much, I can not.

4. Top of the Lake - watched a bunch of these, maybe 5 or 6? It was a close contender for a while but I became somewhat disenchanted when I looked up the lead actress and discovered that her accent was fake. It reminds me of the Showtime series Shameless in that it's really good and I'm desperate to know how everything turns out, but there is honestly only so much fucked-upedness I can endure in binge fashion. I'll return to this one too, though.

5. The Killing - People. T.h.e. K.i.l.l.i.n.g. Hear me when I tell you that this is the one. It's got everything, and I am in love with both leads. There is a crime and each episode is a day in the investigation. Many twists, many laughs, many gut wrenches, and just the right amount of fucked-upedness. I tore through not one but two whole seasons, and I'm chomping at the bit to start season 3. I figure I should pretend to care about the real world for another day or two, then I can dive back in to the cold, dark, pale world of Holder and Lynden. Swoon.

Of honorable yet unsatisfactory mention:

House of Lies - I watched the first season of this and was looking for it, but it's not on Netflix.
Downton Abby - Obvs. And it's available on Amazon Prime, of which I am a card carrying member, but it does not yet stream to mobile devices and I was using an iPad. Rude.

And a few others that were recommended after I'd already gone down the rabbit hole. Sisters, do you remember?

You'd probably also like to know what I'm currently watching DVRing on network TV. I mean, why wouldn't you?

Scandal - big hearts forevah
New Girl - going downhill in a hurry but still makes me laugh
Mindy Project -ditto, but I'm holding out so much hope because I love Mindy
Top Chef - starts next week?
Parenthood - everyone annoys me but I can't stop
Modern Family - a whole family viewing affair, so love
Survivor - forevah
Project Runway - almost over
Amazing Race - season started but I've yet to watch it. Bethany Hamilton is on there!

Am I missing anything good? 

I'm a winner!

So a friend posted this on her FaceBook timeline yesterday.

Because I'm winning award number one down there right now, this is the perfect post for today.

I definitely win the second one. Everybody knows that. Think I've blogged a bout it a time or two.

The third one, not so much anymore, but I can definitely get there.

I'm proud of the fourth one down there, second row, far left. I sometimes come close to losing this award though. Especially on mornings when we are running late. Yes, like this morning.

Ha, ha, puns are the best. So fun, and they really seem to annoy other people. A win win.

The last award is questionable, but I think it applies because it has the combo of both sometimes and maybe. So, maybe.

What awards could you win?

Save the Ta-tas

It rained and rained and rained . . .

. . . but it was awesome.

Thanks to all the peeps for coming out on Saturday. You people are serious rock stars.

And thanks to Ellen for posting all these photos she gathered from far and wide . . .

Despite the periods of pouring-down-rain, it was another magical day, with lots of magical moments . . .

Thanks to everybody for their incredible dedication and devotion, time and energy.

And their donations.

Save the ta-tas, peeps. Save the ta-tas.

Can 'o Birthday

When you find me making this type of mess in my kitchen....

.....it can mean only one thing.

Someone's having a birthday!

Thank God for cool whip, to cover up fix the tectonic breakage of my ice cream concoction, and thank God for Bill, who forgave me last week after I absolutely convinced him that he was turning 49 this year.

Happy 48th Birthday, Baby!

... and love

Halloweenie

So, it's October, and you know what THAT means! Yes, Christmas stuff is already in stores!

Ha, but that is ridiculous. We, like other normal people, are just breaking out the Halloween swag, which truth be told is rather minimal, and mostly recently purchased (but in September, before Christmas arrived).

I'm really not one to decorate for holidays, I didn't seem to inherit that gene. But I've got kids. Three of them. And they really dig Halloween. Plus, our neighborhood is the most spirited Halloween 'hood you ever have seen. I had no idea when we moved in. When people said, it's crazy on October 31 around your house, I didn't really get it.

But it's true. It's a crazy, spooky, crowded scene on October 31. As in, all the houses run out of candy even though they dropped $50 - $100 on the poison, and the cops will likely show up sometime after 9:30 or so to oversee the hundreds of high school kids who end up congregating in the nearby open park.

There's a giant-screen loop of Michael Jackson's Thriller playing at one house, scary-as-shit haunted houses at others, and all sorts of adult parties (which I've got to figure out how to get invited to) everywhere you look (some with catering trucks!), as well as, of course, as hundreds of kids dressed in all manner of costume. It's fun, and creepy, and electric, and I feel as though we are obliged warranted to get our scary on.

I have my youngest solo two Sunday nights a month, and she was all about getting the party started last night.

I told her no pumpkin carving yet, as they'd be rotten by next week (or tomorrow if the heat doesn't break), but that didn't deter her -- break out the Sharpies.

So here you go, the start to our Halloweenie:

Imagine this turned around, please. Quite possibly the coolest doormat ever, right?

My skeleton

My girl's skeleton. And don't ask, I have no earthly idea why they are pirate skeletons.

Ooh, more skeletons, and spiders....

My girl wrote that with her 5-year-old hand!

And drew that scawy mini 'kin

But this one? This one is all me! :o

Weird space-agy skull to greet our guests

Even more pumpkins and spiders...

And the creepiest (non)decoration of all. Baby face-down under bed. Don't ask. ('Cause I have no idea.)

The Walk

It's tomorrow, peeps.

Tomorrow is the 9th annual Terri Brodeur Breast Cancer Foundation Walk Across Southeastern Connecticut.

It may or may not rain on those brave, determined souls all day long.

And the forecast may or may not call for thunder and lightning.

For 26.2 miles.

In the meantime, we've got this going for us:

2013

2012

2011

2010

2009. Rain. Sigh.

2008, 2007, 2006 . . . 

This is the ninth year of these heroes walking a Marathon, for a foundation that donates 100% of the money its walker raise, directly towards breast cancer research.

Look at how utterly awesome our recipients are. I would like to adopt them all as my children. Or my cousins. Or my friends. Or my nieces. Nephews? First-cousins-in-law-once-removed? As long as they are mine, I'm good.

Lots of history, lots of dedication, lots of fierce, determined peeps. Lots of fortitude.

Come out and cheer these peeps on. Or just give dollahs. That works too.

TBBCF

Throwback Thursday.... death by drier buzz

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2009

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

One night either just before or after our family reunion this summer, I was reading in the comfy bed of my parents’ guest room. Everyone else had gone off to sleep; Mar and Mark had returned to his place, Mom and Dad were in their room, Ann was on the pull out couch in the den, Ellie and Bill were out in the Westy, and my kids were sacked out on absurdly tall inflatable bed in the living room.

You know how it is when you’re sleeping somewhere away from home? You don’t quite recognize the sounds of the night. The location of my parents’ place is such that you sometimes catch the sound of a truck on the highway, footsteps on the floor above your ceiling, or an animal shuffling through the nearby woods. This night was no different. I read as I conspicuously ignored the sound of clothes tumbling in the drier and other things that went bump in the night.

When the drier blurted out its buzz to signal that the cycle was complete, the silence grew deeper. Maybe I started to doze off a bit. I thought I heard crying, but I laughed it off as the “phantom baby” phenomenon that has plagued me since the very first day that my very first child exited my womb. I read a bit more, then threw in the towel and turned off the light, falling asleep even as my head neared the pillow.

But what was that?

I heard something…. someone….crying.

Yes, definitely crying.

I hurried out to check on the kids, and the second I opened the door and turned into the hallway I heard my girl in hysterics.

She was on the air mattress, paralyzed with fear. Well, not exactly paralyzed – she was actually pounding on her brother and bellowing into his ear, her voice rising with panic as he failed to respond.

When she saw me, she flew into my arms. She said:
“I heard an alarm!”

I opened my mouth to ask: “an alarm?” but those of you who know my girl know that when she's got a fire brewing, there is no getting a word in edgewise. And she was worked up.

“I didn’t know if it was a fire alarm or a burglar alarm, but I thought there was a thief out there!” she wailed, pointing toward the dark hallway from which I had just emerged.

“I thought Aunt Ellie was in the kitchen so I yelled ‘HELLO’ but no oneresponded!” (I quote) “And I didn’t see any smoke or fire so I thought it was a burglar and maybe he got Aunt Ellie or was over there behind the couch and…..and.....and....” ....collapses into incoherence.

"Baby girl," I soothed: "it was just the drier! It buzzes when the cycle is done; I heard that about 15 minutes ago, have you been in here scared all that time?"
She had. My poor baby girl.



Do you remember being scared like that? God, I do. Lying there in the dark, so certain of your impending doom, your imagination not limited by the fleeting exposure you’ve had to horror flicks and scary reading.

The unknown is way scarier than a familiar enemy. When camping, you fear the supernatural or criminally insane more than that fluffy old rabid bear. We grown ups still have our share of seemingly unrealistic fears, but for the most part we’ve come to accept the unknown as unlikely to cause us harm, at least in the form of those things that go bump in the night. But there was that one night when my boy was a wee baby and my husband lay sleeping beside me. I watched The Blair Witch Project, and I had the poo scared right out of me. When it finally ended, I was a mess of trembling nerves. I slept poorly, and when a noise woke me in the middle of the night, I thought: “I hope the baby is okay, because I am NOT going out there to check on him.”

My girl was pretty easy to calm and reassure that night, she just needed an explanation for that noise that had set off the warning bells in her imagination, and to know that Aunt Ellie hadn’t been pulverized by a thief in the kitchen, she had just slipped out to the safety of her westy.

We laugh about it now, especially about how she was unable to rouse her brother from the dead of sleep to save her. At least she knows who she can’t rely on in a time of raw fear.

But for now, thankfully, the biggest problem facing my sweet baby girl is the challenge of learning to properly cross her eyes.

You're hired!

I had a concert to attend last weekend. One of my favorite artists, Trevor Hall, was playing up in San Celmente, a little over an hour north, if you don't hit traffic.

Although it wasn't right here in San Diego, it was much closer than the last time we saw him in Anaheim, and it fell smack dab on the day of one of my dear friend's 40th birthday, who is also a big fan, so there was really no question about whether or not it was worth going.

Hmm, but what to do about the kiddos? I don't have a go-to babysitter. I don't really need babysitters that much anymore, for two main reasons, (1) I don't have my kids at home 40% of the time, so try to plan my outings during this time, and (2) my oldest is now 13 and she took one of those nifty babysitting courses, so she is now usually the babysitter.

But an 60+ miles away? From 5 pm - midnight? That seemed like too much for my just-turned-teen.

She was NOT happy when I told her the news.

"A babysitter? Ugh. Mom, I can do it."

"I  know you can, honey, but I'll be far away, and it will be a late night, and I'm just worried that if something happened, I would be too far to get back, so having an adult here would be safer."

She then explained who she would call, in order, if something happened, reminded me that the babysitting course went over many types of medical (and other) emergencies, and told me how good she is at getting her 5-year-old sister to sleep. All good points. But I already had the babysitter lined up, and felt good about my decision.

That is until I got home at 12:40 am Sunday morning.

Every light was blazing in the house with all the shades wide open. My oldest's bedroom door was shut, and I knew she was exhausted, so I walked toward my youngest's room. No one was in there; no little body in that bed. I proceeded to my room, thinking maybe somebody was crashed out there, waiting for me to get home. No bodies in that bed either. I backtrack and went downstairs to peek in my middle daughter's room. Oh my! That bed was empty too!

And the house was completely quite. I'd not heard one peep out of the sitter or any of my girls.

Shit, where the hell are they?

Sleepover in the big TV room, I pondered? Yeah, that's probably it!

I walk in to find my middle daughter mouth agape, limbs askew, asleep on the sofa, and the sitter in a chair, quietly watching some TV.

I apologized for being late and asked her where my other kids were.

There both in my teen's bed, she offered.

Oh, okay.

Turns out the babysitter, who was in no way inexpensive, didn't even try to put my kindergartener down to bed. At 10 pm my oldest was tired, so grabbed her baby sister and let her fall asleep with her, which she knew would work like a charm. 10 pm! Luckily my oldest was exhausted from a sleep over the night before and all day spent at the dance studio, or who knows how long my baby would have been awake.

The babysitter apparently didn't put my middle daughter to bed either, seeing as she was passed out there on the couch.

I was so surprised, I didn't even know what to say. I mean, that's what you're getting paid for, getting the kids to bed. That's the only tricky part about the whole gig.

While shelling out the hardly deserved $100, all I could think about was that, although this was an expensive lesson, it was an important one:  my oldest is now our official babysitter. You're hired, honey!! Judge away if you must, but the proof is in the sleeping arrangements (or lack there of).

And, hell, she's been watching her baby sister from the day she arrived.