Word of the Day: Camp

It was the night before Lewis left for two weeks at summer camp. Using the packing list that the camp had provided, he was  checking off items as he stashed them in his big plastic footlocker. He had four bathing suits, twelve pairs of underwear a new package of socks, a rain poncho, a polar fleece and bug spray. Check, check, check.

“I need a bucket for my cosmetics,” he said.

“What cosmetics?”

“You know, my toothbrush and stuff,” Lewis explained.

“Can’t you just carry your toothbrush to the latrine or whatever it’s called? You have to transport it in a bucket?”

“It’s called The College,” Lew explained.  “And the list says I need a bucket.”

Now, if I had known he needed a bucket, we could have picked one up at Target when we bought the poncho, the bug spray and the new pack of socks.  Instead, I combed through the house looking for something that could hold Lewis’s paltry collection of toiletries.

“How about this?” I held my daughter’s Vera Bradley cosmetic bag.

Lew rolled  his eyes.

I inventoried the Tupperware in the kitchen, scoured the basement, the bedrooms and the bathroom and finally dumped all of my makeup (which includes considerable collection of wrinkle cream)out of the plastic container I use to keep my arsenal from overtaking the bathroom and into a canvas shopping bag.

“Voila! A bucket!” I announced.

“Can you wash it out with really, really  hot water?” Lewis requested.

I ran it through the dishwasher, thus killing  feminine bacteria or girl/mom cooties, and handed the sanitized plastic tub to Lewis.

“Thanks,” he said as he carefully arranged his toothbrush(in a plastic tube), comb, sunscreen, bug spray, travel-size toothpaste and body wash (teenage boys are too macho for soap) in the bucket.

“Can I borrow your digital camera, too?” Lewis asked.

I cringed. I use my camera – not just for this blog, but I have hundreds of images waiting to be downloaded , uploaded and embedded onto my Facebook page, my Twitter account and forwarded to relatives who still haven’t seen my oldest son’s high school graduation pictures from 2004.

“Be careful with it,” I said.  Lewis opened the new package of socks, gently wrapped a pair around the camera and placed it his trunk.

Word of the Day:Summer Vacation

Today is the first day of summer vacation. Hurray! I envision a two whole months of playing outside, swimming, bike riding, eating peanut butter sandwiches on a blanket in the backyard and lucrative lemonade stands. Of course, that’s for me.
My kid is in the basement playing XBox 360.

This is what happens when you don't play outside

Okay, it’s  raining. So, I’ll let him grow mushrooms between his toes and burn out his retinas for one day. I’ll start nagging him to go outside tomorrow.

Word of the Day: Entitled

Today I went to the supermarket. It was raining and the parking lot was packed, except for the three handicapped spaces  and two other spaces right next to the front door.  However, those two other  spaces were reserved with a big red sign for customers with infants.

I deserve to park here

Wait a second, I thought. I used to shop at this store all the time when I had infants. I was lousy with infants and there was never reserved parking or shopping carts with built-in baby seats  or candy-free check-out lines.

I felt like I had a right to park there. I felt like I had already paid for the privilege of using that space  fifteen years ago when I would schlep across that parking lot with a screaming baby in the 50-pound Rock ‘n Ride infant seat and a toddler in a backpack. Yeah, I deserve to park in that space.

But I didn’t.

Word of the Day: Prom-ising

So, GM is bankrupt, the polar caps are melting and there’s nothing good on network television. But, here’s what is better now-a-days…

When you order General Gau’s chicken at a Chinese restaurant, you can get it with brown rice and neutralize your guilt.

Skype.  Amazing. My daughter is in South Africa and I can talk to her for free and we can see each other. It is just like the Jetsons.

Leg shaving technology has vastly improved since I first dropped a razor blade into my Dad’s razor and sliced my shins open.

You don’t need a date for the prom. Girls can go with a group of friends – guys with their buddies. Somehow everyone seems to have a better good time – without all the pressure of dates.  Great if you have one, who cares if you don’t. Let’s dance.

Word of the Day: Spring Fever

“I wasn’t born yesterday, ya know. “

That’s what I wanted to say to Lewis when he came downstairs and  said “I don’t feel so good.” He moped around the kitchen table, kinda ate part of a bagel and laid his head on the kitchen table. “Ooooooughh.”

If I had been born yesterday, I might have thought that he was seriously ill. Perhaps with appendicitis or kidney stones. I might have gone to the medicine cabinet to search for the thermometer or a heating pad.

But I was not born yesterday. I know that despite the threat of a global pandemic, Lewis is not suffering from swine flu. Despite record pollen levels, he does not have allergies and despite his groans and apparent lack of appetite, he is not actually  sick. Unless you count Spring Fever as a bona fide illness.

“Do you have a math test today?” I asked. “Do you have gym? Is that History project due, is there a Latin quiz?”

“Ughhhh,” groaned Lew and bit into his bagel.

In the past, I have taken pride in the  strict guidelines that I adhere to when allowing my kids to stay home from school. They are:

1. Vomiting – a ticket to TV  land, no questions asked. However I must witness the event – no flushing the toilet behind a closed bathroom door.

2. Fever – a temperature over 99 degrees registered on a real thermometer inserted in child’s mouth(no underarm readings or flimsy strips applied to the forehead)  for three minutes while I stand watch.

But today, I simply said  “Okay, stay home.” Lewis went back to bed. Maybe he really needs the rest – after all he’s a growing boy.  It’s hardly seems possible that he’s a teenager. In fact, it seems like he was  born yesterday. Who knows, maybe after he wakes up, I can cure his Spring Fever by making him mow the lawn.

Word of the Day: Portion Control

I have a friend who is thin. Now I know why. She invited me for lunch at her house today. It was intimate. Just the two of us and about twelve strands of whole wheat linguine. Honestly, when she dished out the food, I wondered if I had come on the wrong day.  Now, I understand that maintaining a healthy weight is all about portion control. Still, if you are going to invite someone for lunch, for gawdsakes, feed them.  Although, I have to admit that when I left her house, I was feeling a little righteous for not pigging out at  lunch. But I was starving.

So, I came home from lunch and made this:

Word of the Day: Origami

I am worried about America’s youth.

We are hosting two Japanese middle school students. They are 14 year-old boys. In their spare time, they do traditional calligraphy(they mix their own ink!)  and fold amazingly intricate origami.  When my son Lewis has spare time, he plays Halo3.

The Japanese students also play musical instruments, can speak English (kind of) and unfailingly carry their dishes to the sink after every meal. They also always flush the toilet.

Last night, these boys cooked a traditional Japanese meal for my family- udon noodles, scallions, seaweed and some other stuff that I couldn’t identify.  It was delicious. If my son went to Japan, he would cook  Pop Tarts for his  host family. Yeah, I know – they’d probably love them.

Here,  for the benefit of America’s youth, is a tutorial on how to fold an origami crane.

Word of the Day: Grass

I hate spring. It’s a time of new life. A time when the world awakes from its winter slumber. Flowers bloom, birds sing and the green grass grows all around.  Except on my front yard.

This is my "lawn."

My yard is mostly dirt and some scraggly weeds. My neighbors  all have green, lush grass. Even the neighbor whose lawn abuts mine.  Her grass is healthy and there is a visible line where my property begins and the grass  ends. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve fertilized, limed, added nitrogen and sowed pounds and pounds of grass seed. I’ve watered and I’ve watch the seeds sprout and grow, only to turn brown and die.

I suspect that my lawn is cursed. Perhaps it is situated over ancient Native American burial grounds and the spirits are angry.

So, I hate spring because  when the snow melts  it reveals my utter failure to grow grass.

This year, maybe even on Saturday, I am going to dig up the sparse vegetation that is masquerading as a lawn and replace it with something more sustainable – like high bush blueberries, cement or lawn ornaments.

Meanwhile,  I welcome any suggestions from those of you who have conquered your own small corner of this planet.

Word of the Day: Ro_tic

The original bromantics - Martin & Lewis

With the recent release of the Paul Rudd’s movie “I Love You, Man”, there’s been a lot of talk about friendship between guys…bromance, as it has been dubbed. Oh, fine. First they started sneaking into our hair salons, then they wanted to borrow our moisturizer now, they want friends. Just like us girls.

My husband has been away on a business trip. While he’s gone (see January 9th post), I seize the opportunity to have quality girlfriend time. That means getting together to gab over a glass of wine, walking to Starbucks, watching Desperate Housewives and…did I mention wine?

Last night over simple supper of curried turkey burgers (no bun) on arugala and wine, my friend Beate looked around my kitchen and said “This is so ro-tic.”

“Ro-tic?” I questioned.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Romantic without the man.”

It must have been the burgers talking….

Curried Turkey Burgers

1lb ground turkey breast (make sure it’s breast)

1/2finely chopped onion

1 peeled and diced Granny Smith apple

3T curry powder (or to taste)

1Tcumin

2 tsp tumeric

salt and pepper to taste

Gently mix apples, onion and spices with turkey. Divide into burgers (I would make two whopping ones). Heat cast iron skillet and coat lightly with canola oil. Cook burgers until they are done (about 3 minutes on each side – depending on thickness). Serve with a dollop of plain yogurt and mango chutney on a bed of fresh baby arugala.

Word of the Day: Sick

“I want to get sick,” Lewis said.

He stopped banging on his new drums to make this announcement. “Sick?” I asked.  “Why would you want to get sick?”

He picked up the drumsticks and resumed pounding on the snare.  “I want to get sick  ON THE DRUMS,” he explained.

For a moment, a very unpleasant picture formed in my mind and my first thought was that if Lewis did get “sick on the drums,” that I would probably be the one who would have to clean it up.

“YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO GET GOOD ON THE DRUMS?”  I shouted over the crashing cymbals

“YEAH….I wanna get sick. Really ill.”

Now, I wonder if perhaps I am the one who is sick – perhaps deranged -  for thinking that a drum set was a good idea.

(insert loud, incessent banging here)

Yeah, I think I might be sick. In fact I already have a headache.

Word of the Day: Recession

I am not talking about the economy; I am talking about my gums. Yesterday, I had gum surgery to try to prevent the gums around my back molars from shrinking further into the remote corners of my mouth.

You know that you are a grown-up when you get into your car at 8am in the morning and instead of driving to Disney World, you go, on your own volition, to the periodontist.

Word of the Day: Regift

This morning, I drove home from the periodontist where I had the stitches removed from my gums. (By the way, I do want to thank everyone for their  get-well wishes and too-generous gifts.)

Anyhow, on a busy street, lying on the side of the road, waiting for the garbage man to come and stuff it into his truck, was…..this huge stuffed Boston terrier. As I drove by, I thought “Somebody definitely needs to wake up on Christmas morning with this dog on their front lawn.”  So, I turned around (even though my gums were still sore and I had to pee) and rescued the stuffed beast from the trash. He barely fit in my trunk.

A note to whomever tossed this slightly stained, enormous toy which is now spewing little foam pellets all over my living room like a tiny plastic blizzard. I understand why you put him in the trash. As I drove along at 45 mph, he looked appealing sitting on the curb.  In my living room – not so much.  I notice that he has a suspicious brown smear on his nose and a hole on his butt from which he emits the aforementioned pellets. But he is large.

It will be hard to hide him from my neighbors – the potential recipients of my holiday generosity-until Christmas Eve.

Word of the Day: Jew-ish

Okay, tonight is the last night of Hanukkah and so far our family has only lit the candles on the menorah maybe three nights .  Granted, we are only half-Jewish (although I really hate that term) so I guess if we light the candles tonight, we will be right on target.

Word of the Day: Child Labor

I try to teach my kids the value of a dollar. That’s why when our neighbor asked if Lewis would take care of her cat while she went away during the holidays, I made him say  “yes.”  Now, I don’t know if the experience has taught him much, but I have learned a valuable lesson: When my kids have  a job, I am the one who works.

That’s because I am the one who reminds Lewis that he has to feed the cat. I am the one who nags him before breakfast to walk the four blocks to the neighbor’s house.

“Go feed the cat,” I say. “Get it done early, then you won’t have to think about it anymore.”

“I will, ” he promises. But he doesn’t. His friends come over to play video games and it’s  practically dark by the time he decides he is ready to go.

“Have you seen the key?” Lewis asks.  I have. That’s because  I am the one who keeps track of where he left their front door key and I am the one who hangs it on the hook in the kitchen so it won’t  get lost. I am also the one who finally gives in drives him to their house waits outside while  struggles to open the door and let himself inside to dump food in the cat’s bowl, change the water and scoop the litter box.

Today, another neighbor asked if Lewis would shovel their driveway. I encouraged him to say “yes.”  After all, I do think it’s important for kids to have some kind of job.  Even if it means more work for me.

Word of the Day: Ciao

My husband has left me and I’m okay with it.

He’s away on a business trip for three nights and four days …in Italy. Now, some women might be jealous and others might be resentful. Some, after holding down the suburban fort and being a single parent for the better part of a week, might expect payback in the form of Prada or Gucci. Not me. I like being home. Let me be more specific. I like being home without Harris.

It’s not that I don’t love Harris and treasure every moment that we have together, I do. It’s just that I like it when he leaves, too. When he’s gone, I admit that I feel a certain freedom. I can eat all the stuff that he hates (green curry, blue cheese and black bean soup), watch the all of the chick flicks that he won’t rent (The Notebook, Baby Mama and anything with Clive Owen) and make coffee that’s really, really strong – not only because I need the extra caffeine to fuel my jam-packed single parenting days, but because that’s how I like it.

Maybe it’s the coffee, but when Harris is away, I get a lot of stuff done – especially the stuff that, if he were here, would require discussion. The last time he went away, I redid the bedroom.

Ciao!

After

Before

Word of the Day:Hint

Heloise and daughter

My local supermarket has a book shelf where you can dump your old books and magazines and take  new ones for free. I have found a lot of good stuff  there including a 1967 edition of Hints from Heloise.  Heloise’s daughter took over the helpful hint business after the original Heloise died and her column now runs in newspapers around the country and in Good Housekeeping magazine. She even has a hip-looking website.  But it’s the hints from her mother in the 1960’s that I think hold the key to making America great again and might even  save the planet.

Listen to this: “Cut the cuffs of worn-out rubber gloves into narow strips. This will give you rubber bands that will last for quite some time.” Nifty idea. They also sell bags of rubber bands at Staples, for like…fifty-cents. Has our society really changed that much in 40 years or was the housewife who sent in this helpful hint just bragging?

Here’s another: “Don’t throw away those envelopes from greeting cards that haven’t been sealed. I cut off the flaps from the envelopes and stow them in a small box. When I have to leave a not and don’t want the piece of paper to get pushed aside or lost, I just wet the glue and stick the note up in plain sight.” This is the birth of the Post-it note!

And my favorite one… “I cut the tops off my teenage-daughter’s worn bobby socks and discard the foot part. This leaves me with a ribbed tube which I cut so that I have a square of ribbed cloth. I crochet around the edge of this ribbed cloth with leftover crochet cotton, finishing it with a loop on one corner, thereby making a lovely dishcloth!”

I use paper towels. But I think that if we could learn to crochet, start hand-washing the dishes and get our teenage daughters to wear bobby-socks, we might be able to end global warming, rescue the economy and preserve the rain forests. Are you with me?

Heloise and Richard Nixon

Looking at Heloise’s hat,  I am thinking that perhaps the times really have changed.

A lot.

Word of the Day: Stimulus Package

Does anyone else blush when they hear Obama use the term “Stimulus Package?”

It’s not often that you get to feel good about a corporation and today, I have reason to feel good about two large American conglomerates – UPS and Starbucks. I’d like to share my stories with the hope that other companies will want to emulate these two fine examples of customer service.

UPS – “Ask what Brown can do for you” Their slogan is Kennedy-esque although I never thought they really meant it – until today.

My daughter ordered three pairs of shoes from Zappos to be delivered on the day that she was catching a plane to leave on a semester abroad in AFRICA. She had ordered sneakers, slip-ons and really cute sandals that she simply couldn’t survive the semester without. At 4pm, the package hadn’t arrived and although the UPS on-line tracking said that it was on  its way, we she needed to catch a plane. NOW.

So…even though my daughter is a big girl and could have done this  herself, I called UPS and asked where the darn truck was. They called me back, I met the truck on the other side of town, the driver checked my ID and handed off the package of shoes.

Then…UPS called to make sure that everything was okay. They called me.  Disaster averted, shoes packed, daughter en route to South Africa for semester abroad. Whew.

I celebrated on the way home from the airport at Starbucks where the stoner behind the counter barrista took my order for a “tall, non-fat  latte” and offered me free whipped cream on top. “Most people don’t know this,” he said,  ”but you can get free whipped cream on every beverage at Starbucks.” If everything was run like Starbucks and UPS, we wouldn’t need a stimulus package.

Word of the Day: Octuplets

The octuplets made their television debut this morning and their mom, Nadya Suleman, was ready for her close-up – plump lips, chisled nose and fresh French manicure.

Anyone who has ever diapered a newborn knows that long nails and poopie diapers go together like….fourteen kids and a media circus. And, while the public wonders how an unemployed, single mom will be able to support fourteen children (who will inevitably have some special needs) Nadya Suleman has faith in the volunteers from her church and in America’s insatiable appetite for reality television — no matter how unreal it seems.

Word of the Day: February Vacation

I’ve often wondered why schools have February vacation. I mean wasn’t Christmas break  just a minute ago? I could understand if families needed help  tapping their sugar maple trees or  birthing spring lambs or cutting blocks of ice out of the local ponds  - but here in suburban Massachusetts, February vacation seems like an evil plot by the Board of Education to test the limits of a mother’s sanity. I mean ten days without school in the middle of February? C’mon.

Fortunately, Lewis was invited to go skiing with his friend’s family this week. “I’m sick,” he says of his prowess on the slopes (see December 5th, 2008 post). Unfortunately,  he  is sick – not slalom champion sick – but sore throat, fever, runny nose sick.  So instead of spending February vacation skiing, he is lying on the couch in the tv room ordering cinammon toast, Oodles of Noodles and Easy Mac. I have to admit, I like a kid who is just a little bit sick. The low-grade fever slows him down just a little and makes him a little bit warmer and more receptive to sitting close to me on the couch and cuddling.

Of course all the closeness has a price and now my throat is suspiciously sore. All that Easy Mac has a price, too. Lewis didn’t have much of an appetite yesterday, so the dog finished the macaroni and cheese that was left on the coffee table and was up all night with diarreah.

Amid all the soggy Kleenex, the half-eaten bowls of neon-orange macaroni and the dog poop, it occured to me that perhaps February vacation was derived to quarantine sick kids and keep them and their germs at home so that they can return to school and stay there… until their mother’s regain their sanity.

Word of the Day: Fiber

Lewis was sick (see previous post).  It seemed like he needed a little treat, so I asked him if he wanted anything special from the grocery store.

“Get Pop Tarts,” he said. “Brown sugar frosted Pop Tarts,” he specified.

Did I expect him to request broccoli, fish oil and flax seed? No.

So when I saw Brown sugar Pop Tarts made with whole grain, I figured that this was a compromise – frosting for Lewis and a bit of fiber to assuage my mommy guilt about buying junk food. I saw it as a win-win situation.

Lewis was thrilled with the Pop Tarts – until he saw the box. “Whole grain?” he noted with suspicion. “Fiber? Ugh. I don’t want these, I want regular Pop Tarts.”

The worst part was, my husband agreed.

“If you are going  to buy junk food,” he said, “buy the real stuff. Not something that is all hopped  up with whole wheat and fiber.Trying to pass off Pop Tarts as healthy is like making bacon out of tofu,” he proclaimed.” Later that afternoon, Harris went to the store and came back with Strawberry Pop Tarts with absolutely no whole grains. Lewis loved them.

Me? Turns out the Brown Sugar frosted Pop Tarts are only 200 calories  apiece  that’s the same as a plate of steamed broccoli and guess what –  the Pop Tarts have more fiber!  Here’s to my new favorite breakfast.

Word of the Day: 6,823.93

George W. maintains his mediocre grades at Andover Academy

The stock market is crashing and the numbers are totally depressing. We have less than half the money we had last year. At least we had it on paper.  With private college tuition up around $50K a year, it’s not a good time to have middle-class white kids with mediocre grades. 

Maybe my kids aren’t geniuses because they inherited my inability to do math.  In fact, numbers have always given me a headache. Here’s some that are particularly irksome.

13- how many pounds I have gained  since my last child was born 15 years ago.

2 -  the number of cell phones I have put through the washer.

6- how many times during dinner Lewis asked  if he could get XBox Live.

3- the number of times we overslept this week and I had to drive Lewis to school.

4 - times two oldest have crashed the car. Luckily, no one -except the car and our insurance rates - were hurt.

3- the sizes that my foot has increased since I got married (and had kids).

7,3022 – the number of dinners that I have cooked since my first child was born.

7,276  – the number of meals I have cooked since becoming a mom that have included macaroni and cheese.

1/2 - the number of pages I am able to read of my book group’s selection before I fall asleep.

28- the number of shoes, cleats, iceskates, flip flops that are blocking the front door. There’s something about March – flip flops, snowboots, ice skates, soccer cleats…

32 – how many stairs I have to climb when I run through the house looking for my keys.

0 - the number of pounds I have lost while going up and down the 32 stairs.

Word of the Day: Junk Mail

I must not have a life because I really look forward to the mail. But, for the past couple of days the contents of my mailbox have been totally disappointing. Not only were there no juicy letters with colorful stamps from faraway countries, but here was nothing. Just junk mail.

Yesterday's mail - all junk.

I complained to my mailman, Bob, about the quality of my mail. “I’ m not getting any thing good, Bob.” I said. “Maybe, the government could save money by delivering junk mail to my box only five days a week, instead of Monday through Saturday,” I suggested.

Bob bristled. “There is no such thing as junk mail,” he said.

UPDATE: My neighbor just knocked on the door. A piece of mail addressed to ME was accidentally delivered to her.  It was an actual letter – with colorful stamps and an airmail envelope -from one of the Japanese students who are coming to stay with us in April. I wrote about our last year’s students (see the “Natto” entry) when I first started this blog.  I can’t believe it’s been  a year!

Word of the Day: Bugged

Do you ever feel like you are losing your mind? Do you ever walk into the kitchen and can’t remember why you are there  or  forget where you parked the car in an 8-story garage? Yesterday, I stopped at Petco to buy crickets for my son’s leopard gecko. The clerk knocked twenty-four, large-size, skittering  crickets into a plastic bag. “You have a Cricket Corral for these?” ” he asked. “Because they can chew through the bag in a few hours.” I paid twelve cents a piece for the insects, gently placed the bag of bugs in my environmentally-friendly canvas tote  and headed home.

When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that my son’s skis, three  paper cups from Starbucks, a banana peel, two pairs of ice skates and some skanky soccer stuff was in the backseat. So, like a pack-mule, I made  several trips from the car to the house. Then I made myself a cup of tea, sat down at the kitchen table to take a stab at the Sunday crossword puzzle and remembered about the crickets.

BUT I COULDN’T FIND THEM.  They were gone. My canvas tote bag was empty.  They weren’t in the car or on the porch or even in the freezer, where I once absentmindedly stashed the mail. The words of the pimply-faced Petco clerk haunt me.

“They can chew through the bag….” 

Word of the Day: Resurrection

Cricket Update: I found the bag o’  bugs.  When I went to drive Lewis and his fiends friends to tennis lessons – there it was in the car, on the floor of the passenger’s side. I had only checked the car three times. The crickets were dead and bloated. The boys passed around some Skittles, joked about the dead crickets and tossed the plastic bag of dead insects back and forth.

“Hey! I think one of them is still moving…”

When I got home, I examined the bag of crickets. One was moving. Then, two started to wiggle. In a few minutes, the entire bag of crickets had miraculously come back to life.

Note, the alive crickets perched on the rock.

I dumped them into the gecko’s cage.

Word of the Day: Progress

Someone in my town posts daily diary entries from a housewife

from 1902. Here’s yesterday’s. This is a typical day:

Life in 1904

Wednesday, March 16, 1902

Some overcast early & late -

Up at 7 fixed the Lamps, dusted rooms,

sorted clothes, made beds & mended

awhile and then dressed & went to Flora’s. Just starting out with baby – (at 9-30) so

we went down to Miss Perry’s & I had my coat fitted. Quite a walk & felt

some faint standing but better when we got out again. Walked up in about 40 mins. Harold behaved beautifully. John Drew so he came for tea and

then I had a hot sponge bath & dressed & saw F. coming so went out & up town. Etta caught up & we saw Bess G. so went over & met her. Decided to

go to Boston with Etta – so went – on the train. Bought just a pair. of thick stockings – and some cheese & crackers at W. K’s as the men were here in eve playing whist. Home before six – Read in eve – paper & “Octopus” & wrote in here. In bed by 9:45.
FLASH to Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Sunny, breezy and cool.

Up at 6:30am

Made coffee and drank it.

Spent all morning sitting at my desk trying to download

My 2009 life

a photo onto my computer.

No luck.

Progress? I don’t think so.

Time for wineWhist.

Word of the Day: Zappos

I love Zappos, the mail-order shoe company. You pick out shoes on-line (searchable by color, heel-height, style….) and they are delivered OVERNIGHT! Amazing.

So effusive were my raves of Zappos, that Lewis decided to order soccer cleats on-line. “The ones I have now are too small,” he said, “and tryouts are this weekend.” Lewis’ cleats were size 8 1/2 – so I ordered the next size up. When they arrived the next afternoon, he pounced on the box, pulled out the cleats and tried to wedge in his feet. No dice.

“But mom, I need them by Sunday!” he wailed. We ordered the next size up and they arrived with the same expedience as the previous pair. And again, they were too small.

They say the third time’s a charm and indeed it was. The third pair of Pumas, delivered to our door a half hour before tryouts, was like the bowl of porridge in Goldilocks and the Three Bears…just right. Of course, he will outgrow them before the season even starts.

Word of the Day: Crash

Stock markets crash…

Computers crash…

Cars crash…

It’s amazing what can happen in two seconds.

Lewis and his tennis teammates crash here everyday before their practice. I lay out some snacks, eavesdrop on their teenage boy banter and drive them to practice. Fortunately, I had already dropped them off when I slammed into the back of a Nissan Pathfinder. No major damage to the SUV, major damage to the Hyundai.

I didn’t have my camera with me, so this is not my car, but it is a Hyundai and well…you get the picture.

How sick is it that one of the first things that crossed my mind was “Gotta take a picture of this for the blog.”?

Extremely sick.

Word of the Day: Portion Control

via carolband.wordpress.com

Posted via web from carolband’s posterous