BRRRRR!!!!!

We had a big storm last weekend (don't say "no shit, Sherlock!" to me.  It's not nice.)  We didn't get the snow that people got in the southern portion of the state, but we got a lot of wind.  When it gets windy around here Lake Superior gets terrifying.  Kira and I went out for a while the other day and took some pictures and movies of the lake.

This is Kira next to a little boat that sells popsicles and hot dogs in the summer time.  The lake side of this boat is coated in several inches of ice.  FREAKY!

Here is the same boat from the front.  The lake side is coated in ice, but the other side is totally clear.  Isn't that weird?  I mean that the line would be so precise?  Hm.  I think it's weird.  

This is the harbor lift bridge.  They paint it in the winter when the shipping traffic stops.  The tarps they put up got ripped into tatters in the wind.  For some reason Kira is fascinated by this.  She keeps saying, "OH MY GOD, I bet those guys are so cold!"  I think she thinks they live in there.  They don't.  

Kira on top of a rock coated with about two inches of ice.  She kept saying, "Come up here!  It's so fun!"  Out behind her is the lake. The wind blew tons and tons of ice to the end of the lake where the harbor is.  It was weird because the waves under the ice were huge and you could see the ice rising and falling.  It is covered with broken ice chunks for about a mile.  

After we were at the harbor for a while, we drove up the shore a ways so we could see some open water and some waves. This picture was taken at Brighton Beach, where we swam last summer:

Those rocks were hot last summer.  Felt good on the feet.  After seeing it yesterday I can't believe it will ever be warm again.  

Here's a movie I took.  The wind is so loud it's kind of annoying so turn the volume down.

Be nice to Kira or she will do that to your head.

My new boyfriend

Happy President's Day!  I have been reading the book 1776 by David McCullough and I think I'm a tiny bit in love with George Washington.  He was so brave, and heroic, and tall, and such a good leader.  (Sigh.)  What really did it for me was when I read a story to a kindergarten class last week about how Washington returned General Howe's dog when it was captured by the Yankees during the revolutionary war.  The Yankees wanted to keep it as it would serve as a blow to the moral of the British, but keeping someone's pet for spite was too much for George, and he called a cease-fire and returned the dog.  Awwww!!  (It's a true story.  I looked it up.) I also recently watched the HBO miniseries John Adams, which was wonderful, and David Morse of Hack fame played George Washington.  Oh, you have never heard of the show Hack?  How embarrassing for you.  It was a show about a cab driver (David Morse) and Mitch and I liked it because the Hack character would push people down on a regular basis.  David Morse is HUGE.  He can really push. And he makes a great GW.

David Morse as GW

Of course, I don't think anything will come of my infatuation with George Washington, so don't worry about my marriage.  George Washington will never come between Mitch and me.  For one thing, he's 238 years older than me.  He and I together would be grosser than Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones.  Also, he had worse teeth than me.  By the time he was president he only had one natural tooth left so he wore dentures which were NOT made out of wood, but out of ivory, gold, springs, and at least one cow tooth (gross), and although I am in no position to criticize someone else's teeth, I would not want to have any long frenchers with someone with cow teeth.  (No offense, Martha)

He was a snappy dresser.  He had his uniforms and suits made for him in London by a tailor and he always looked impeccable.  Most men of the time wore wigs, but not George.  He wore his own hair in a pony and powdered it white.  He wasn't a big fan of bathing though.  He thought too many baths were unhealthy.  I bet he didn't smell all that great, unless his hair powder was made by Drakkar Noir, but I'm pretty sure they didn't have Drakkar back then. (just kidding, Drakkar: yuck)

my  boyfriend

George was a fantastic horse rider. (Horses! EEEE!) Unfortunately during the French and Indian War he had two horses shot out from under him.  TWO!  He was really broken up about that because he loved animals.  He was a dog breeder and really loved his dogs.  He had really cute names for his dogs like Sweetlips and Truelove.  Awww!  (But also he had some dogs named Drunkard and Tipler.  That could be a red flag.  I don't know if I would want to have a relationship with a man with a bunch of alcoholic dogs.)

He never had biological children of his own.  Some historians speculate that because he had smallpox as a young adult it might have caused him to be sterile.  (Sterility: not a deal-breaker) Martha had two children from her previous marriage before she married George (her first husband died) and George raised them and loved them like they were his own.  Unfortunately they both died young.  Then George and Martha raised their two grandchildren.

George was a Southern plantation man and had slaves.  Lots and lots of slaves.  (Slavery, that's kind of a deal-breaker for me.)  Of course he set all his slaves free in his will, but that's kind of a fuck-you gift to the black man of 1799 isn't it?  "You're free, now beat it!"  I don't know.  Probably.  He had misgivings about slavery but never spoke publicly about it because he didn't want the country torn apart by the slavery issue.  (OMG!  Predict the future much?!) He left orders in the will that the older slaves be clothed and fed and provided for, and the younger ones to be educated and trained in an occupation, so, that's something, I guess.

So anyway, despite the 238 year age difference, my insistence on basic hygiene, and my opposition to alcoholic pets and slavery, I think I am still in love with George Washington.  I can't help myself!

Happy Birthday, George!

A Little Girl's Dream Comes True!

Mitch brought Kira to the boat show at the convention center last night and they found a booth that was offering mechanical bull rides.  What little girl doesn't want to ride a mechanical bull?  Well, I don't know about most little girls, but OUR little girl has been thinking about testing her mettle on a mechanical bull for months!  Finally she got the chance!  Dad comes through again!  She was feeling a little shy about it at first, but Mitch reminded her of her mechanical bull dreams and made her go for it.  The guy running the bull looked to Mitch as if to say, "Should I take it easy on her?" and Mitch said, "DO NOT go easy.  Knock her off." which sounds kind of mean, but if you know Kira, that's the nicest thing a father could have done for her.  She's disgusted by coddling unless it is during the game of Sorry.  Then she insists her opponent go easy on her.

 She LOVED it.  She wants to go back and do it again.  Here are some pics:

Faster...

Faster!...

FASTER!!!...

SO FAST YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE IT!  (she's falling off)

An Idiot Abroad

When Mitch and I moved to Duluth we decided we weren't going to get cable TV anymore.  It's been 11 years and we still don't have it and I have to say, for the most part it has been a brilliant decision.  We used to find ourselves watching a lot of VH1 Behind The Music shows about people we totally didn't care about.  Our knowledge of the detailed love triangles and squares and hexagons of Fleetwood Mac is probably taking the place in our brains where we could instead know the theory of relativity or French.

I haven't even wished I had cable until last weekend.  I watched a show at my parent's house on the Science channel? I think? called An Idiot Abroad.  It was created by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant.  It's hilarious.  The premise is that Ricky and Stephen send their uncultured friend Karl to the seven wonders of the world because it's funny to watch him deal with culture shock and travel, and he hates it.

I saw the episode where they sent him to Jordan to see Petra.  Oh my god it was so funny!  I looked up the website and found these great photos and quotes from some of the episodes:

Check it out!

I miss my old gauchos

This week is Winter Week(?) at Sam's school.  That's what he says it is, but I bet it's Winter Sport's Week or something like that instead of just "Winter Week."  They have a different theme for every day and today's theme was "decade day."  They could dress up like a person from the decade of their choice.  Sam LOVES David Hasslehoff of Knight Rider fame so he did his best impression with what he had in his closet.

He OF COURSE wouldn't let me take a picture of him because 1) he looked cute 2) he's an INFURIATING eighth grade boy and 3) I think he somehow knows the picture would have ended up on the internet.  (Can't blame him for that, it would have.)  So instead of a picture that describes him in a thousand words, I will have to actually use a thousand real words to describe him.  Just kidding.  I'm not using a thousand words.  It wasn't that funny.  He wore jeans, a red t-shirt (or maybe it was black.  I can't remember.  DAmmit, I should have taken a picture!) a jean jacket, and a HUGE BELT BUCKLE THAT SAYS "SAM"!  The belt buckle really made the outfit, although I never saw Michael Knight wear a "Sam" buckle on Knight Rider.  Oh well.  It was funny.  Also, Sam is growing a beard, I mean "beard" because it looks a lot like my premenopausal beard and I wouldn't call that a real beard, just random strange-looking, surprisingly long chin hairs.  Kind of like Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

The whole dressing-up-in-past-decade-apparel got Mitch and I talking about stuff we used to wear.  Mitch went through a Prince faze, (the singer, not the royalty.  Wait, maybe... I don't think...  I'll have to check.) and he described an outfit he had that included a set of suspenders that were not meant to go on the shoulders, but to hang down, jauntily.  AWESOME.  I remembered fondly a set of gauchos I had in fourth grade and an elastic belt that went with them that said "GAUCHOS GAUCHOS GAUCHOS" across the whole thing. I miss those.

Valentine's Day List: Brothers with whom I'd have a threesie

1.  The Kratt brothers.

The Kratt brothers (on far right and far left)

2.  The Keno twins from Antique Road Show.

Niiiiiiiicccce cheeeeeeesssssstttt....

3.  Owen and Luke Wilson.

Hey guys, lose the old-timey hats and let's get this party started...

4.  Leo DiCaprio and Matt Damon.  What's that you say?  They are not brothers?  Are you sure???

Boys, boys, don't fight... shhhhhh...there's enough for everyone...

5.  Mario and Luigi

Oh, and btw, when I say threesie I, of course, mean people that I'd be willing to share a heart shaped box of chocolates with:

What were you thinking of?

pervert.

What I know today

January is not my best blogging month.  But hey, it's already February, so I guess February isn't all that great either.  I'm going to try to be more consistent but I feel like I don't have a lot to say these days, and I don't know why that would stop me from blogging every day NOW because I've never really had anything earth-shattering to say and I've never had a problem being consistent before.  I started to the blog to write about the funny stuff my kids did that I would tell people about and they would say, "OMG, that's so funny!  You should write that down!" but why write stuff down if nobody is going to read it, right?  So I started a blog like 3 billion other people.

Apparently my kids are an utter disappointment lately because they aren't providing much blog fodder, and if kids aren't good for blog material and getting you the remote and a diet coke when you're comfortable and don't want to get up, then what good are they?  Just kidding.  My kids are really good at getting me the remote and diet cokes, but I gotta say, I'm getting a little sick of their "concern" about my diet coke habit.  (say the following in a naggy, annoying voice:) "You should stop drinking this stuff, it rots your teeth.  My class saw a movie about dental hygiene and they put a tooth in a glass of diet coke for 24 hours and it had a cavity when they took it out!"  Okay, for one thing, I don't think putting a tooth in a glass of diet coke is a scientifically credible experiment on what happens to teeth when you drink diet coke because who is swishing their mouth with diet coke for 24 hours at a time, and where did they get the experiment tooth?  Did it fall out?  Why?  Was it one of the baby teeth that elementary schools are disgustingly full of?  YUCK. Who volunteers a healthy tooth for a stupid elementary school experiment? And what about the spit? WHAT ABOUT THE SPIT!  And for another thing, SHUT IT.  I could be downing six packs of Old Milwaukee or eight-balls of crack (Is that the right nomenclature?  Is it crack that comes in eight-balls? I'm not sure and you know why? BECAUSE I'M A GOOD MOTHER!)

Anyhoo, what was I talking about?  Oh yeah, lack of good blog material.  Well, you know what they say, "write what you know" so I'm sorry, Following, here's what I know this weekend.  I went up to my parent's house for the weekend and visited with family and played with my niece who is adorable and hilarious and ROTTEN, and who is soon to be old-news because Beth's new baby is going to be born in 26 days.  My favorite thing that my niece did this weekend was put a white eraser on my hair brush and brush her teeth with it.  I looked at Beth like, "what the heck is she doing?" and Beth said, "She has a really big tooth brush," which I'm still laughing about.  I also took advantage of my parent's awesome wi-fi connection by watching Netflix on demand movies.  I watched The Crucible which should be alternately titled Mean Girls, 1692! Puritan Bitches GONE WILD!  

I also took advantage of my dad's super-duper five blade razor that I spotted in the shower this morning.  That sucker really cuts through the brush!  (sorry, Dad) Actually, I'm not sorry.  I'm genetically hairy, and it's all my parent's fault.  They should have known something ominous would happen when they read their wedding invitations which said: "Mr. and Mrs. Bigfoot Sasquatch want you to join in the celebration of the marriage of their daughter to the son of Mr. and Mrs. Abominable Snowman-Yeti," So anyway, Mom and Dad, just be glad I'm not a boy, and the number of the local RotoRooter man is 729-7686.  I'm not saying you'll need it, but just in case.  It was worth it though because I'm smoooooooooooooooooth.

Oh, and I notice that I have a new follower!  Yay for me!  I love when that happens! And if you read this blog with any regularity, you know that the next several new followers are entitled to one of my Grandma's head staples, so guess what Rachel McGrath?  Welcome! and you are the lucky winner!  And because you're the first new follower I've gotten in a pathetically long time, I will send you a staple with skin still on it!  LUCKY! Email me you're address and I'll slap it in the mail!*  That's what I know for today.  Have a great week everyone!





*Rachel, I already threw the staples away because they were grossing my family out sitting on the kitchen counter.  I could send you something else gross though.  You know, if you really want it.  Let me know!

The Rite (spoiler alert!)

I went to see the movie The Rite today by myself because nobody I know seems to love devil-horror the way I love devil-horror.  I also love Anthony Hopkins, I mean SIR Anthony Hopkins.  The movie is about a young seminary student named Michael who doesn't want to be a priest, but his crazy mortician dad won't pay for  college, so his plan is to go to seminary on a scholarship, get an education, then opt out of being a priest at the end.

Then the story jumps to four years later when Michael is about to finish seminary school and he is still a skeptic about the whole God thing, so he writes a letter to Father Superior to tell him he's not going to take the final vows because the priesthood is not his thing.  Father Superior sits down with Michael and has a talk with him about his scholarship and tells him that it is perfectly legal for church to say that his scholarship was not a scholarship at all, but a loan.  A hundred thousand dollar loan.  NICE, Catholic church!  So Father Superior tells Michael that because of his gory history of living in a mortuary, maybe he could be an exorcist.  Michael, of course, thinks this is total B.S. but decides to go to Rome for two months to take the course anyway, because hey, it's a two month trip to Rome.

During the exorcism course, he challenges the teacher by saying that what the "possessed" people probably have is psychological problems, and not a demon.  The teacher sees promise in young Michael so he sends him to see Father Lucas (Hopkins) who is an expert exorcist, (but a bit of a loose cannon!) with the hopes of convincing Michael of the reality of demon possession.  As luck would have it, Father Lucas has a client? patient? named Rosaria who is 16, pregnant, and possessed by the devil.

(Being a teenager BLOWS.)

Father Lucas tells Michael the basics of exorcism, the most important being making the demon identify himself.  Apparently if you can trick them into telling you their names, you can get them out easier.  Rosaria exhibits all the symptoms of possession:  scratching things with her finger nails, cracking her knuckles, arching her body into extreme yoga positions, coughing up nails.  You know, the usual.  Michael still isn't convinced.  STUBBORN!  He thinks Father Lucas is somehow tricking him and he thinks Rosaria needs help from a real doctor.  Turns out Father Lucas is a doctor as well as an exorcising priest.  (Nice resume!)

Rosaria eventually goes totally nuts with this stupid demon and ends up in the hospital where she has the baby by herself (Nice hospital!) and she and the baby both die.  Now there is a free demon wandering around and guess who he seeks out?  That's right, Father Lucas!  And guess who is the only one who can exorcise the demon?  That's right!  Michael!  He's lacking confidence at first and only goes through the motions of exorcising, and it doesn't work.  Then he steps up his game and really brings out the big exorcising guns and gets that horrible demon to say his name (Baal) and everyone lives happily ever after.

It was an okay movie as far as devil horror goes, but I gotta say, the scariest thing I find about devil horror is that lots of people actually believe this stuff!  There really ARE exorcists!  I think they take on the job for the same reason people become Maytag repairmen, or the vice president.  They have lots of sitting-around time.

Guess what this is?

Okay, I'll just tell you.  They are the staples that held my poor Grandma's head wound closed after her brain surgery.  She had them taken out today and when the nurse wheeled her into the waiting room Gram looked at me and said to the nurse, "Can I keep my staples?" and the nurse was like, "...um...what?" and Gram said, "I want my staples," so the nurse went back in and I imagine dug them out of the trash and brought them out to her in a little box.  Then Gram handed them to me and said, "Here.  These are for you."  So I get to keep them!

This may seem weird to you, but one time Kira and I were obsessively lusting after a scab my grandma had on her knee because we LOVE to pick scabs, and let me tell you something, that particular scab was a BEAUTY, perfectly round, dry and thick.  Gram wouldn't let us pick it and Kira asked if when it finally came off if Gram would send it to us.  We couldn't go that far, but Gram must have remembered our love of healing wounds and was thoughtful enough to share her head staples with us.

Jealous?  Hey!  Maybe I could have a blog giveaway!  Become a new follower and I'll send you a staple!  And if you get two friends to become followers, I'll give you one that has skin on it!  (But act fast, only two have skin left on them!)

Not the best day

I'm feeling really sorry for myself today because I just finished the fourth week of my hyper-vigilant mega-diet and I didn't lose any weight this week.  I've lost two pounds total, which, when you think about it, isn't really anything because a person's weight fluctuates between 2 and 3 pounds every day depending on how successful the morning poop is.  Weight Watchers obviously isn't working for me as it is (maybe it's all the not-counting of butter and candy), so this week I'm going to use an iPod app that I have called Lose it! and see if that works any better.  It's basically just a calorie counter and it's different than WW because it counts everything you put in your mouth, there's none of that zero points for any kind of fruit or vegetable bullshit.  Also I'm forcing myself to drink lots of water.  Apparently that's all the rage with the successful-dieting sect.  Yuck.

I had promised Kira I would take her to the climbing wall today because it's her birthday tomorrow, and I did better than I did when I went climbing with her a month ago, but I still totally suck.  I have absolutely no finger strength and I was so determined to get up those walls, but if one foot slipped, I couldn't catch myself and I'd fall.  Of course, I was harnessed in so I didn't fall fall, but I fell enough to not be able to recover so I made it up about halfway on most of the walls I tried.  Tiny children were climbing past me like gravity really is just a theory and not a fact. And now my arms are sore.  It hurts even to type this.

Then Kira and I met Mitch and Sam downtown at Mitch's office which is right across the street from the climbing place.  He has a bunch of meetings and presentations this week at his office so he's there making sure everything is ship-shape and looks nice.  He was looking at me when I was sitting in there, and I was holding his gaze and thinking to myself, "Oh well, it doesn't matter if I lose 2 pounds a month or ten pounds, he will love me no matter what, right?"

 And then he said, "The lighting isn't very good in here, is it?"

Gifting

Kira's birthday is on Monday and I don't know what to get her because she is so weird.  I've been asking her for ideas and she usually says, "I don't know," but these are the things she has told me:

1.  A pasta boat

2.  A ride on an "electric bull"

3.  Buckyballs magnetic balls

4.  A brand on her skin.  Like ranchers give to their cows.

 I suppose in humans it's called decorative scarring.  She finds metal things with cool patterns and says she'd like to heat them up and brand herself.

That's it.  I got her the Buckyballs, but I didn't get her a pasta boat because why does a ten year old need a pasta boat?  She thinks it's neat, but she doesn't cook pasta so it would be stupid, not to mention lame, to get her cookware, wouldn't it?  As far as the mechanical bull goes, I think that could be put into the "irresponsible parenting" category.  First of all, the only mechanical bulls I've ever seen are in honky tonk bars (yeah, I've been to a few. What?) and they are pretty wild places, not exactly the place to have a kid's birthday party (but that would be her DREAM) and even if it wasn't in a bar, I don't think a machine that simulates shaken baby syndrome is the best thing for a child.  Even a huge, practically grown child.  Why would she want that?  Why is she so weird?  She got what she wanted for Christmas and she LOVES it:

A wolf mascot costume.  She's wanted it for years and she finally got it.  When asked where on earth she would ever wear something like this, her answer was, "EVERYWHERE!"  She likes it a lot but it's kind of hot so she doesn't wear it as much as she would like to.  She manages to get it on quite a bit though, regardless of the heat factor.

She likes to share the experience and tries to get everyone to try on the head, but people are reluctant because it's beginning to smell like the worst smells of her head.  My mother-in-law said that when she tried it on it smelled like potato-chip-breath.

Personal things about my relatives that I didn't get their permission to write about.

I wrote a card to a close relative of mine who has been in the hospital recently for a subdural hematoma.  In lay terms that means the poor lady was bleeding in her brain and needed some surgically precise drilling (gross) to relieve the pressure.  Pretty serious stuff!  Anyway, I wrote a card for this dear lady and Mitch read it and thought it was "mean."  I'll let you decide.  Here is what it says:

Dear [close relative],

I'm glad to hear you are on the mend from your surgery.  Sounds like things went well and you should expect a full recovery.  That's great!  But you know what?  You are never going to be able to use the colloquialism "I need _____ like I need a hole in the head!" because you really did need a hole in your head!  I suppose you could instead say, "I need _____ like I need a poke in the eye with a sharp stick!" because I can't see any way that poking you in the eye with a sharp stick would ever be beneficial, but you never know!
Love,
Sarah

Well, was that mean?  I don't think so.  I hope not because already I sent it.

Also, I promised you a story about my sister.  She never told me it was okay to tell so I won't tell you which sister it is, to protect her anonymity.

A few years ago my sister had a dog named Pocket.

She was a tough little chihuahua but was always shivering and cold and could never get enough heat.  My sister taught her the command, "Under Cover!" and when Pocket heard that she'd go under the covers of whoever had a blanket and she'd heat up to about 500 degrees and become as malleable as bread dough.  The last time my sister was pregnant she and Pocket were snuggling on the couch and my sister wasn't feeling too well and let out a fart to relieve some pregnancy stomach pain.  It stunk, like farts tend to do, but this fart stunk so bad (pregnancy farts are pretty bad) that Pocket woke up and crawled up to the top of the blanket to try to get some air, and when she had gotten as far as my sister's chest, she threw up.  

My sister had a fart so stinky that it made a dog throw up.  Now that's impressive!

She also has a dog named Abby who one time came into her bedroom in the early hours of the morning and threw up a whole bird.

Kira in the Car Part XII

"You know what I would both like and dislike?  If instead of hands I had one dog paw and one lobster claw."

Chiclets!

This is the singer Cee Lo Green.  He was on Saturday Night Live last weekend with my nemesis, Gwyneth Paltrow.  I would KILL for Cee Lo's teeth.  They are so large and white and straight and LARGE!  I love big teeth.  I think they are the most attractive thing a person can have and if I had the money and didn't have the crippling fear of all things dental, I would get work done to make my teeth look bigger and whiter and straighter.  Hilary Duff apparently agrees with me because she had her teeth done and although I love her new teeth, I think she may have over-done it:

(Only feed her carrots with a flat hand)

They were pretty good before, but as a lover of big teeth, I understand her wanting them even BIGGER.  You know who else has a nice big set of choppers?  Denzel Washington:

I photoshopped a picture of myself a long time ago and I changed my face in all the ways I would in real life if plastic surgery was cheap and painless.  I enlarged my eyes, minimized my chin, and enbiggened my teeth.  SO PRETTY!

Weird and just a tiny bit offensive

I was driving around the other day and I saw one of the weirdest billboards I've ever seen.  Here it is:

WHAAAAAAT???

What is this even supposed to mean?  I get the other Prolife Across America billboards that say things like "I had fingerprints before Dad even rolled off of you!" and "My heart was beating when God planted me in your womb, so don't even think about abortion, INCUBATOR!" but this one just boggles my mind!

What is the guilty message here?  I don't get it!  "Dad says I'm the CEO of the House?" Huh?  Like you aren't going to even consider aborting a CEO?  CEOs aren't very popular in the current economic climate and you'd think that CEOs would be more likely to be aborted, not less.  Think, Prolife Across America, THINK!

He's the boss of the house even though you do the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, the cleaning, finding everything nobody else will even look for, and ten thousand other things, but because a stupid condom broke all of a sudden he's the CEO?  Because Dad says?  Okay, Fetus, you're the boss!  And why isn't that executive baby wearing a shirt?  Inappropriate!

Shoot

Ever since the shooting on Saturday in Tucson, the back-and-forth between gun lovers and gun control advocates has gotten heated back up.  This is one of the stupidest arguments I've ever heard of.  If you think about it logically in a risk vs. benefits type of way, guns, especially handguns, are the stupidest idea in the world.  It's a tiny cannon that you can carry in your pocket, and if you don't accidentally shoot your own balls off, you can go into a crowd and kill twenty or thirty people in a few seconds.

One of the arguments for guns is that the right to bear arms is protected by the constitution.  So is owning slaves.  The constitution is fantabulous and all, but it was written when the most technological weapons around were muzzle loaders.  Do you know how much time and effort it takes to fire a muzzle loader?  And the accuracy is horrible.  If you wandered into a crowd of people with a muzzle loader you'd be able to kill one person at most (and it would be a lucky shot, probably not the person you were aiming for) before everyone would run for their lives while you reload.  Technology has rolled right along in the last 200 years, and now you can stand at the edge of a crowd, or in the door of a classroom, and pretty accurately kill several people before anyone has a chance to react.  I don't think that's what the founding fathers had in mind.  

Muzzle loaders were an important tool when our country was young.  You could shoot at the British, or bears, or runaway slaves.  All important to the man of the 1790s.  What's the use of a handgun today?  The only thing it is for is killing people.  Bears aren't much of a problem to the modern man, and runaway slaves are a thing of the past. Why does anyone want a tool specifically made to kill other people?  And why do we want to let the crazies who do want it have it?  I think the reasonable people are just afraid of being shot if they get too loud about it.

Another argument gun defenders use is that "guns don't kill people, people kill people."  They say that this kid who went on a rampage, and the other young men who have gone on rampages in the past several years are mentally ill and would kill people anyway regardless if they had guns or not, but they all had guns.  Maybe it's true, but it would be a lot harder to stab 20 people than it would be to just point and pull a trigger.  It doesn't take a lot of thought or imagination to load a gun and shoot.  I think the first time that crazy person grabbed another person and sunk a knife into their flesh, it would maybe seem a bit more real and a lot grosser and horrifying and less glorified than they built it up in their mind.  (Also, as a teacher I think it would be good for the crazy kids to think of more creative ways to kill their classmates than to simply bring guns into school.  Come on crazy kids, do a little thinking!)  If you're going to go so far as to kill another person, you should at least have to get a little dirty doing it.    

I've heard that people keep handguns for "protection."  Protection from what exactly?  Who is after you?  Do you think maybe you might be just a tad paranoid?  Is it worth keeping a deadly weapon around your family because of the one in a million chance someone will threaten you to the point where a gun would be your only solution?  If someone did come into your house and threatened you, is your gun handy?  Can you get to it in time?  Is it loaded?  And if it is loaded, what the hell is wrong with you keeping a loaded gun in your house!? And if it is handy and loaded, what would keep this obviously desperate person from simply snatching it out of your hands when you hesitate at the thought of killing another person, and shooting you in the brain?  

Thank you! and random crap

I just wanted to write and say a big THANK YOU to everyone who has contributed to our new diet blog, The Chunkersons.  It's a community blog and anyone can post so if you haven't checked it out already, check it out and write something if you want!  As you'll see if you read it, I have not lost any weight yet on my super hyper vigilant diet, and I haven't even cheated (yet).  Maybe cheating is the key.  All I can say is the weight better start dropping off or I'm going to LOSE MY MIND which will at least be losing something. (I wonder how much my mind weighs???)

I went to Sears this morning because I had a gift card (um...thanks?) and let me tell you something, that store is UGLY.  I wandered around for an hour looking for something I didn't hate and eventually found a scarf and some earrings that weren't totally butt ugly.  I saw a shirt there that was made of a really thin material, was perfectly square with arm holes and a neck hole just left open in the sides and top, and had a pocket sewn on the front that took up the lower right quadrant.  And it had horizontal stripes.  Not even the most beautiful supermodel would look good in that shirt.  I should have taken a picture.  I also contemplated getting a down vest but when I tried it on I discovered that the arm holes were somehow too far back or high or something and it had ridiculously huge plastic buttons on it right next to the zipper.  So weird. Sears, you suck.

I just finished reading Jane Eyre.  I LOVE THAT BOOK!  So good.  Now I'm starting The Poisonwood Bible for bookclub at the end of the month.  I better like it.  Or else.

There are some bullying/teasing problems on Kira's hockey team right now and boy does it bring me back! Girls are mean. When I was 12 my family lived in Australia for a year, and when we came back all my former classmates had merged to the middle school along with a couple other elementary schools and I was an easy target for some of the bullies.

I don't know why.  Probably because I was the new kid.  This one girl, I'll call her Bertha, was especially mean to me but she couldn't see under my dorky exterior to the pure font of meanness underneath. She got the message when I and a few of my dorky friends started the "I hate Bertha" club by writing "Join the I Hate Bertha club!" on a piece of notebook paper and then took it around at a high school hockey game and had everyone and their brother sign it, and then left it on her desk on Monday morning.  She went from bully to victim really fast and the thing about the biggest bullies is that they also make the most dramatic victims.  She was SUCH A VICTIM.  But she eventually got over it and we became friendly out of respect for our mutual bullying skills.  At our ten-year reunion one of Bertha's perpetual victims from middle school told me that she still had the notebook paper and she treasured it.  

Time Warp

I did something incredible yesterday.  I bought a new (used) car, (!) (wait, that's not the incredible part) and I'm pretty sure I traveled through time to do it. (!!)

On Wednesday morning Kira and I were driving to school in my front wheel drive, compact car and for seemingly no reason at all, while I was going about forty miles an hour, the car just started going sideways.  No warning, I wasn't cranking on the wheel or slamming on the brakes.  It just slid and there was nothing we could do about it.  Thankfully I got it back under control, but I was seriously freaked out and had visions in my head for the entire day of being broadsided by a dump truck and having my daughter killed and getting paralyzed myself.  (Btw, if that ever really does happen, someone push my wheel chair/hospital bed into a deep pool.)  At school I looked online at used cars here in Duluth.  I found one that looked to be in good shape, AWD, not a compact, so Sam and I went to the dealership after school for a test drive.  We liked it.  I drove it like an idiot to see if it was going to sail off like my compact car did, and it was under control even on icy roads.  Relief!  I talked money with the salesman, thought I got a good deal for my trade-in, got a pretty good price on the car and I was set.  I told him I'd come back the next day with my paperwork and we'd make the deal. 

This isn't the first car I've ever bought.  I've done this before.  I'm not saying I'm any good at it, but I'm as good as the next guy.  Sure the dealer probably took advantage of my naiveté, such that it is, but like Mitch says, "They do this for a living; you buy a car 7 or 8 times in your life.  You don't have a chance to beat them."  I still thought I was making a pretty good deal.  I went home and filled in the online credit application and sent it in. 

On Thursday morning is when I think I went into the time warp.  I'm not sure if it happened at night when I was sleeping, or after I got up and I just didn't notice, but I definitely travelled back about 50 or 60 years in time.  The first hint I had that it had happened was when one of the idiot financial guys at the dealership called me AT SCHOOL, WHILE I WAS TEACHING to tell me that I don't qualify for a loan and I need a co-signer.  The school secretary patched the call in to me and I took it thinking it was something from the teacher or from a parent and it was this idiot!  I had a line of 5th graders standing next to me waiting for help with their math and this guy just calls in the middle of the day.  What did he think I was doing? 

Oh, and ...WHAT!!!???  A co-signer?  What am I, sixteen?  My credit score is excellent, and like I said, I've gotten car loans before, all by my little old self, but now apparently I don't qualify.  So I called Mitch and asked him to meet me at the dealership to co-sign.  He didn't want to do it because he doesn't want to be involved with my cars because they are MY CARS.  I didn't want him involved either.  I don't need a hubby-daddy. 

We met at the dealership after school.  Me, our kids and a reluctant hubby-daddy.  SO fun.  I thought since I had been in the night before that things would be expedited and we could sign some quick papers and get out of there.  They made us sit there for two and a half hours! (but now that I think about it, that might have been some illusion of the time warp.  It might have actually been six minutes or it could have been thirteen days.  Who knows.  All I know is that it was daytime when I got there, and nighttime when I left.)  Finally, a financial douche came out to get us so we could go in to his office and sign the papers.  Here's how that meeting went:

Financial Douche (FD) - (walking up to Mitch and sticking out his hand for a hearty, manly handshake) Hey there, Mitch is it?  Nice to meet you, my name is Douchy McDoucherson.  (giving me NOT a hearty handshake, but a slight-to-no acknowledging glance, and a head nod)

Mitch - hi.  uh..yes, it's mitch.  (lack of capitals indicates lack of enthusiasm, and embarrassment at the blatant chauvenism displayed to his wife)

FD - Oh!  I see by your jacket that you're a hockey coach!  Wow!  I also am involved in sports!  We have so much in common!  Let's walk together!  Your concubine can follow!  Or not!  Who cares!  I understand you have a penis!  I also have a penis!  How do you like your balls?  I really like mine a LOT!  I feel so special having testosterone coursing through my veins, don't you?

Mitch - .....uh...

At this point we had reached the office.  We sat down and FD continued to talk to Mitch about the wonders of being a man, ("Isn't it great to be able to lift heavy things and open jars?") and eventually about the car.  I was seething even more than I was seething when I was kept waiting for two hours.  I had already figured out what I was going to pay for a downpayment, already settled what I was going to get for my trade-in but FD didn't have the correct information.  He said that I had agreed to a thousand dollars less for my trade in than I had actually agreed to, and I had it IN WRITING!  When I showed him he said, "Yes, but there are fees we charge like this (pointing to a $650 itemized something in the plus column, and a $300 itemized something in the minus column.) and he looked at me like I was a stupid child.  Mitch said, "That doesn't make any sense.  How can a plus $650 and a negative $300 add up to losing a thousand dollars on a quoted trade-in price?  Even if they were both in the negative column they would still only add up to $950."  FD said something about having to clean the car and get it ready for sale blah blah blah, balls, penis, balls.  (I want a job working as a car cleaner for a dealership because apparently they pay $1000 per car.) 

We got the papers all signed, I got the payments that I wanted, and the car was mine.  Finally.  So FD walked us out:

FD - Say Mitch, do you have any hair on your chest?  I have a few on my chest and it makes me feel soooooooo superior to anyone who can grow a baby in their body!  Here, look!  It's in a patch and it goes all the way down to my nethers!

Mitch - .......

So anyway, the bottom line is that we went through an extremely painful experience with a chauvenistic bastard so I could drive off in a BRAND NEW! eight year old car with all wheel drive so I don't get killed when I try to go anywhere, and I learned time travel is possible, although I don't really know how it happened, and I spent the better part of the day yesterday in Duluth somewhere between 1950 and 1960.  The fifties, what a magical time for women!  And blacks.  And anyone else who didn't have a set of white balls.

My niece is a brat...

But Kira totally deserves everything she gets.

And so does Sam:

Resolutions, Day 1: Success!

I am doing well, this January 2nd, on following my resolutions that I made up for myself yesterday!  I worked out last night and I'm sore today even though it was a weenie workout. (Weenie workout or not, 1 down, 349 to go!) and I joined Weight Watchers online for three months.  Now that I have paid someone money to have access to a website to help my lose my own fat, I will hopefully feel obligated to do it or it will be like the money was flushed down the toilet.  I also went rock climbing with Kira today, but I don't know if that can be called a workout because it wasn't that hard.  My forearms took a beating and will be ridiculously sore tomorrow, but other than that, it wasn't very taxing.

Spidergirl!

I also started a community diet blog to discuss dieting/exercising issues and I set it up so anyone can post to it.  It's called "The Chunkersons" and you can get to it HERE.  I hope if you are on a diet as well, or think you should be, or just want to laugh at my pain, you will visit it, and if you are on a diet or even if you have any good dieting tips or tricks, please please please contribute by writing a post or two (or as many as you want)  It's not MY blog, it's a community blog, and I will be contributing to it.  When I diet I feel like it takes over my whole life but I don't want it to take over my blog too, so that's why I started it.

I'm Resolute

Last year I made ten New Year's Resolutions.  One of the unfortunate things about having a blog is that I actually wrote that stuff down and can go back and read it and see how I did.  Here's how I did:


1. I will study another language. (I originally wrote "I will learn another language" but that's setting the bar a bit high.) It might be Spanish, it might be Na'vi. Probably Na'vi, although I did take 6 years of Spanish and it is an actual language used by millions of humans, so it might be more practical and more useful. FAIL

1/1/11:  I did not learn or study another language.  I went to the library once with the idea that I would get some foreign language tapes, but I had to go to the bathroom so bad, I just grabbed a couple fiction novels off the "new releases" shelf and left.  I peed my pants a little anyway on the way to the car, so I might as well have lingered over the Rosetta Stone display and picked up some Spanish or Italian.  I did watch The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo in Swedish (with subtitles) and learned how to say "motherfucker" in Swedish (Jävel).  Does that count?  

2. I will stop being so practical. FAIL

1/1/11:  I will never be able to not be practical.  I'm just being realistic.  I am linear and literal and I can't help it.  

3. I will continue teaching myself to play the guitar. I got a guitar a few years ago and I taught myself quite a bit, and this year I will practice and learn more stuff. Watch out B7 chord, this year you're mine. FAIL

1/1/11:  I think right after I wrote the resolution post I picked up the guitar and promptly broke a string.  I'm looking at the guitar right now and it's dusty and the string is still broken.  

4. I will be more social...... JUST KIDDING! Ha ha.. I really make myself laugh sometimes! 

1/1/11: Does the internet count?  Because if it does, I'm really a social person.  I got a phone this year too and have added texting to my social repertoire, so yeah, I guess I've gotten more social.  WIN!

5. I'll get a real job. Plan A: NASA. If that doesn't work out, Plan B: Hollywood. If not at NASA or Hollywood then nowhere. Sorry, Mitch.

1/1/11:  NASA didn't work out as far as employment is concerned, but I DID go to the National Air and Space Museum and some some cool spacey stuff, and that's further that I thought I'd get on the NASA path.  I got nowhere on the Hollywood front.  I'm waiting for someone to offer me a ridiculous amount of money to write for either The Office or Modern Family.  It hasn't happened yet, but I'm ready, so I'm not really going to count that as my fail.  I'm still substitute teaching which I don't know if you can call a "job."  


6. I'll wash that gray right out of my hair. WIN!

1/1/11:  As I write this, my hair is a lightish brown with blondish streaks.  It is no longer sewer-rat-brown with gray patches.  I look at least six months younger than my real age.


7. I'll make a goal during the mother/daughter hockey game in March, and I'll do it wearing figure skates. (real resolution: I will not get permanently injured during the mother/daughter game.)(Note to self: start being nicer to Kira.)

1/1/11:  The mother/daughter game never happened!  The other mothers were all talk (braggarts) and decided not to play.  I was ready.  I had my figure skates sharpened and I was mentally prepared to wear all of Sam's stinky hockey equipment and go out and get pummeled by my daughter and her friends.


8. I will make ten different edible dishes in a bundt pan. I'm counting last week's meatloaf as one even thought it was technically last year, and I'm also counting cake as one. Eight more to go. Next week: Jello mold. FAIL

1/1/11: I totally forgot I made this resolution right after I wrote it.  Sounds like a lame resolution.  But the meatloaf was pretty cool.  Maybe I should revive this...

9. I will get the crumb of food out from under the F key on my keyboard, and I won't eat over my computer anymore. WIN! (and also fail)

1/1/11:  I got the food out from under the F key!  But I have not stopped eating over my computer, but I am more careful.  

10. I will not be disappointed with myself when I don't do any of the previous nine things on this list. FAIL

I wrote those resolutions as kind of a joke, but I didn't do very well and I am kind of disappointed despite number 10.  That's kind of sad.  Nobody likes to fail.  


Okay, on to this year's resolutions.  No jokes this time.  I'm holding myself accountable to myself this year.  


1.  Lose weight.  I know, that's so lame and so overly-resoluted, but I need to lose some weight.  Specifically 26 pounds.  I feel achy and old and although I actually kind of like my soft, marshmallow-like midsection, I really really HATE being startled by seeing my fat face that is starting to disappear into my neck when I glance into a mirror.  If I had a nice neck-line I could be 400 pounds and I wouldn't really care.  I'm just vain enough so that matters to me.  


2.  I'm going to try to work out 350 times this year.  That's at least a half hour almost every single day of the year.  I'm going to count any work-out over 75 minutes as two work-outs.  I just came up with this off the top of my head, so I am not very confident about how this will turn out.  I actually like exercising after I get past the muscle-soreness phase.  But I really really hate the muscle-soreness phase.  


3.  I'm going to try to stop picking at my split ends.  I get a little obsessed with split ends and feel compelled to pull the splitters out of my head because I see them as being subversive to the rest of the hairs which are really trying to be thick and healthy and beautiful, which is crazy.  It's going to be hard, but my hair will look better for it.


4.  I'm going to save 10% of all of our income into our IRA account.  


5.  I'm going to travel somewhere cool.  My dad and I are talking about going to Easter Island, and I would like to take my kids to Washington DC when the cherry trees blossom.  If I do either one I will count this resolution as a win.  


I think that is enough.  I'm starting the diet in earnest on Monday because we have to eat up the holiday leftovers (remember, I'm practical) but on Monday morning, all leftovers go in the trash and the food journal begins!


What are you doing for resolutions?  Anyone want to be diet-support partners?