Sushi!

Funny how things run in streaks, and the strangest things, too. It all started yesterday, with a free moment and an impetuous decision-- well, two impetuous decisions, really.

You see, free moments and myself can be dangerous, landing me and mine in all sorts of folly. In my spare time, I have all sorts of opportunities to plan, scheme, and jump headlong into stuff that sounds like fantastically rational things to do at the moment I decide to do them....

Sooooooooo, after years of planning, researching, talking with people, changing my mind, getting 65 separate informational packets sent, I have enrolled in a Master's program!!! In a couple hour's time, I had spoken with the enrollment coordinator, filed my application, sent for my transcripts, and written a 3 page "Statement of Professional Goals", wheeeeeeeeeee! The program itself is quite unique (and fully accredited, btw), offering one class to complete in an 8 week time period, with completion in two years. I don't know 'bout choo, but doing only one class at a time sounds fan-freakin-tastic, and soo less schizophrenic than the 4-5 classes at a time of programs past. And there's a 10% discount if more than 5 people enroll, and 20% off if 20 + people get on board-- and ya'll know how much I loves me a discount! I should be beginning Oct 20, with books (included in tuition, wtf??) being drop shipped-- did I mention that the entire program is online? Did I mention that I am in love?? Oh yeah! And since the community college I've been adjunct-ing with for years has requested a new contract with me for this semester, one can only speculate a lovely clinical experience teaching there, and an equally sweet lil job a waitin' for me when I graduate (ok, that's projecting something awful, and tempting the fates to boot, so I'll erase those thoughts from my brain).

I also joined the gym today, and quite characteristically forgot to attend classes tonight-- so it's already going swimmingly (no pun intended-- there's no evening swim classes, har de har har).

And since Jacob had a fabulous day at his BRAND, NEW SCHOOL: he not only goes to school with several people he knows in one form or fashion, but made a new friend... oh, and did I mention that unbeknownst to us, his best friend since age 5 unexpectedly decided to enroll!!! Crazy, crazy times, and happy ones for a change. School and my kids are not always on the best terms, god bless their antisocial and antiestablisment lil hearts (lol! really, it kindof bums me out...). Oh, and the dude signed up for violin, too-- and instead of being $80/month, is FREE (me like free).

So, enroll in master's program, good day at school for kiddo... maybe we need to go to HONADA, that new sushi place I've heard a ton about and isn't too far (Kenosha)??? It wasn't hard to get the boy on board, but had to twist a little arm to get the man out the door...I even dressed up for the occasion, which was a little exciting (for me, maybe the man, too;-).
Since I wasn't 100% sure what to get, I figured getting the largest and most obnoxious thing on the menu would be useful, so we were presented with the "Party Boat" (and no, the party boat sushi was NOT wrapped in weed vs the traditional nori, as one sassy person suggested; miso what-was-that-again, btw?)
I've included a photo for your amazement:

The sushi was INCREDIBLE, and we did our best, but couldn't even come close to finishing the monstrosity... so with the leftover fish tonight, I very lightly cooked the stuff up (cause there's no telling what it picked up in our nas-tay fridge overnight, cesspool of spilled stuff and assorted biohazards it is), and made a ton of rolls:And I've even included a RARE photo of moi, all sweaty and unkempt from my toils of sushi making:
After yesterday, I'll let you in on a little secret (so shhhhhhh! don't tell): sooo not really a fan of sushi. I much prefer the rolls, tyvm, vs plain raw fish. Something about an overwhelming ick factor, visions of liver flukes and such (blast! that nursing education and all it's paranoia...), and having to gum a sometimes nasty, gooey bit o raw fish. Cook it the tiniest smidgen of a bit, and I'm on board, 100%.

p.s. even got tomorrow's dinner on the docket: asiago cheese and spinach sausages (a la Sam's club), sliced and served on pita bread with tzatziki sauce, sliced cukes and tomatoes from the garden... happy times to be organized, wonder how long it'll last;-)

p.s.s.: mighty excited about politics these days, looks like our gal is the REAL DEAL, and then some (scroll all the way down to the end of the post).

We Be Campin'!

Camping and blogging, who'd a thunk? The way the world's spinning, headlong into technology that reaches into the wilderness family vacation (ok, Door County isn't the wilderness... but there's still very few places you can get a cell signal) one can't help but be thrilled:-)
We got off to a late start on Monday, so much so that we weren't going to make it to the campground in time for the 11 *PM* deadline... so we finally had the happy experience of camping at the Door County Walmart-- classy! We had always heard that you could spend the night there in the parking lot, and there you have it: we can cross that one off the list of "tacky things we must do before we die".
So then it's wake up early, pick up some last minute purchases, and head out to the campground, all at the decent hour you should have made it the previous day if you were the punctual type.
The campground was not too crowded, I suspect because those from the Land of Lincoln went back to school this week, and we have since decided to make this the official camping week for evermore.

The weather was gorgeous, the bike trails sublime. The kids were crabby (quelle surprise!), so Jake and I took the motorcycles out on the peninsula for a ride all by our adult lonesome, wheeeee! We met the friendliest couple from Oregon who travelled all this way for the Harley reunion-- amazing! What an incredible thing it must be to have a passion that can take you places, I really need to look into that...
We determined that it would cost a whopping $70+ to take the kids and the cycles on the ferry to Washington Island, and would it be worth it??? That truly is the question of the day, an excellent indication of how little stress we're feeling, ahhhhhhh:-)
We twisted arms big time to get the kids on the bikes for an ice cream run, sigh! Its getting harder and harder to entice the kids to get up and moving... they enjoyed their gigantic custard sundaes while I munched on an apple, and being the less geebed out afterwards, kicked their butts on the ride back home (I felt so good, I rode up the huge hill to get out of the ice cream place TWICE. I remember being *barely* able to get out of there the last time we went a couple years ago, and each and every time before then..)
Of course, the ride was spectacular, stunning, breathtaking (I'm running out of adjectives here, so let's just say it was pretty dang fabulous) and funny, since I remember the trails as being a little more grueling than they actually were, go figure. Either the ride wasn't so bad because I wasn't hauling dead weight in the form of a bike trailer or trail-a-bike (one of the few advantages of parenting adolescents, yippie yahooey! I flew past those poor trailer draggers and tried very hard not to gloat, tee hee), or my daily self abuse back home is increasing my stamina. Either way, I'm loving it.

It got dark waaaay too early the first night, and since I neglected to bring any evening entertainment, the boys went promptly to sleep while Grace and I twiddled our thumbs-- it was only 9 pm, for cripes sake! So we girls mustered up the ambition to make an evening trip to the beach to check out the stars (and fairly uncharacteristic of our lazy, scaredy cat selves). The beach also happens to be the only place in the whole gigantic campground that has a cell signal *and* a place to charge Grace's phone, so off we went.
Being the ever smart girl, Grace had the brilliant idea to bring a lantern, a tiny thing that I scoffed at: as a self proclaimed master navigator, I thought for sure that we didn't need a light. After all, I had my phone (which casts like a tiny flicker of light, woo hoo), and we were just going to the beach, an easy, 5 minute walk from our campsite.
The night sky was breathtaking, you could see every constellation and galaxy with perfect clarity, making for excellent stargazing. That, and Grace could return all 600 of the texts she received when there was no signal, and I could sit and read my favorite blogs by the light of the stars. We felt like quite the clever girls, mixing the very best the world has to offer: the night sky, the wind blowing off the water, the faint call of an owl... and reading the Crunchy Con blog and Natalie Dee comics.
Thought we'd see other techno addicts hiding out by the light of the moon, but we were the only ones, compounding the feeling that we are worse off than most, but no surprise there.
At around 11, the lure of the camp bed beckoned, and so I set off alone with my trusty iPhone, as Grace wasn't quite ready to head back. And off I went into the pitch black night... feeling the confidence that I initially had of my stellar navigational skills flicker and wane with each step I made. Where the hell was I anyway? Which direction was I heading-- and was our camp this way, or over that way? I had no flippin clue. All of a sudden the panic crept in, even tho I was only a 2 minute walk from where I started: I was lost, in the pitch black, and was flooded with visions of wandering around in the night aimlessly until morning (the greatest fear being that I'd miss my morning bike ride). The panic went straight to my gut, a ridiculous thing, since I knew how to get back to where I started and the bathrooms nearby (if only I could get there in time!). It was a strange reaction, one of those sympathetic "fight or flight" things I'd heard about in nursing school but thought was far below my civilized self.
I was walking as fast as I could-- all the while FREAKING OUT--listening to the sound of my flip flops as they hit the trail beneath me that I felt but could not see. Gar!
Made it back, just.in.time... to wail my lost status to my totally UNsympathetic daughter (I even texted her "I'm lost", to which she replied "like I care"-- evil, bad daughter;-).
I convinced her that we needed to leave right then and there with her lantern so we could make it back together, and THE SAME FREAKING THING HAPPENED AGAIN. We got totally turned around, weaved and bobbed on our way to finding the trail, and got stopped by the Rangers, who were no help at all, really. I think they thought they were busting a couple of teens drinking on the beach (hence the weaving), and told us the trail was "over there" (yah, we knew that... but finding it was another deal altogether). So off we went again, like big time dorks, feeling for the road beneath us to guide us *somewhere*: our first attempt led us out of the campground altogether, so we backtracked, looked for landmarks barely remembered, backtracked again, and then went for it and picked a path. It was the wrong path, but thought we remembered that it took us to the camper (Grace thought it was in one direction, I thought it was the other.... and mom overruled).
THANK GOD! After wandering around in the dark for 45 minutes we made it back to camp, humbled and grateful... and shamed, as the "clueless girls who should never venture out" we truly are. No more will I boast about being able to find my way in the dark sans flashlight, for even with a light source was still able to get myself lost, boo (and no, Jake was not worried and thought it was funny, said: "you two should do that sort of stuff more often", sheesh!)

UPDATE:
The rest of the vacation was pretty chilled, the kids sleeping in as long as possible, me taking long bike rides in the early am (averaging 15- 30+ miles per day).
I can't describe how beautiful and fun the trails are to ride: I'd start out by the beach (and check my emails, tee hee), ride along the shore, a knotty trail with great little hills and sharp corners... I've taken a liking to riding my bike as hard as possible, using my upper body to pull the bike up, over, and side to side, showing it who's boss (fully realizing that one day it will throw me over the handlebars and really let me know..). The sensation of flying, of maneuvering my body to work with the rise and fall of the land was incredible. The best way I can illustrate the joy I felt was when I saw a little 7 or 8 year old girl on the trail, pedaling her bike with abandon: she would stand up, sit down, pedal like crazy, and cruise... you could see her turn her head to catch the wind to blow her hair, and she'd smile a full face, radiant grin, showing the pure elation she felt as she flew down the trail. That's how I felt, like a kid again: the pedaling almost effortless, climbing the hills with a sting and a burn, with the absolute thrill of riding downhill as fast as possible, pulling the bike to and fro to avoid tree roots and rocks, feeling strong and alive.
Each trail opened up to a new and gorgeous natural feature of the park, one better than the next: the first being the shoreline, and then the woods and bluff (my favorite! You'll be climbing some to get there, but your ass will thank you later. The views are breathtaking, and the ride down a *ton* of fun). One way takes you up, up, up the bluff even further, the other only part of the way, but both eventually take you to an open meadow, a basin lined with mature cedars and prairie flowers. Soon, you'll find yourself at the Ranger's station, and it'll be time to head back the way you came, so you can revisit all the gorgeous spots all over again, before you end up back at the beach.
I tried to get as many miles behind me as I could before the guilt set in that I was holding up the family, but no one seemed to care.
We rented double kayaks on our second day, which was an incredible upper body workout and *tons* of fun. I've been trying to get Jake to ok the purchase of a couple decent kayaks for us and a Sunfish (sailboat) for the kids, and maybe I've convinced him now... we are the toy family, for sure, and are so blessed for it!
We paddled out to Horseshoe Island and explored the trails (in a bikini and flip flops, what a woman...), where Grace was accosted by a millipede and narrowly escaped with her life.
Paddling back was a pain as Grace decided she'd rather be the passenger vs an active paddler, but I was able to amp up my endurance by singing Fiona Apple and Ditty Bops songs (thank god we were out of hearing range for anyone) and make it back in time for our 2 hour limit. Man! Did my shoulders hurt so good the next day:-)
The kids hung on the beach quite a lot, I rode my bike, Jake did a little of both, and we were able to get the kids out for one motorcycle ride out to the end of the peninsula-- beautiful! On the return trip, we stopped in Ephraim, to find a cute but misplaced hippie couple singing and playing slide guitar, with the girl occasionally doing hula hoop tricks (a la Cirque Du Soleil?). Being in the midwest, most folks initially looked confused as to what to make of such free spirited goings on, but eventually relaxed and it became almost normal to see people expressing themselves openly in the public square.
It was nice, took me back a few... I remember being free that way in other parts of the country, and was it the place that made it possible, 0r was it just who I was at the time?
I think it was mostly the location: Santa Fe, Tuscon, and parts of Texas being far more open to artistic people, but of course was a completely different girl back then (and sometimes I miss her).
Jake and I wrapped up the trip with one last motorcycle ride out to Bailey's Point (while the kids beached it yet again per their choice, hopeless relaxers!). We made it back just in time to strap the bikes back on the trailer and thoroughly irritate Mr Punctual Dude, the guy who was to take residence in our camp once we left and had to wait 15 WHOLE MINUTES to do so... (poor Punctual Guy. We sometimes would like to be him, but he didn't look to happy, having obviously taken great personal pains to show up at EXACTLY the correct time with his stuff and his family, and then had to wait. Makes being the Slow Boats and Wal Mart campers seem that much more appealing..)
So there ya have it: our 5 day vacation in a nutshell (sortof).
We reconnected, felt the joy and pain of what it means to be a family, holed up in a metal box for days on end, realizing that even tho what we have is fractured and dysfunctional, is precious nonetheless.

Har De Har Har Har...

As a former (reaaallly bad) gymnast, I find this completely funny, yet still amazing...look at how strong the guy is; even in parody, he's still impressive! Sigh!

p.s. interesting little diet factoid: the shorts I could barely squeeze into a few weeks ago are now so loose that I can almost pull them off without unbuttoning them, strange. But other than feeling a little more toned, think I look exactly the same, which is even stranger.. (BDD? ya gotta wonder)

We'll be spending hours and hours on our bikes over the next few days up at Peninsula State Park, wheeeeeeeeeeeee! We used to average 30-50 miles a day some days when the kids were little (and didn't complain as much), not sure if we'll be able to match that, but we'll certainly try. Maybe said shorts will simply fall off of their own accord once we return home, and wouldn't THAT be entertaining?

Hopefully we'll be able to bring the motorcycles as well and check out the peninsula SANS the geebish motorhome, which gives me the worst car sickness *ever*, esp when navigating narrow, winding roads. There's a certain romance to exploring Door County via motorcycle, making a lovely and long overdue trip even more so.

Death Wish 2000

Something strange yet not entirely unpredictable is happening to my husband and his friends:
My guy is older than me, yet 99% of the time he doesn't act like it... but it's becoming clear that in spite of this, his DNA is well apprised that he's firmly entrenched in his middle age.

So what are all these middle aged guys starting to do?

Buy motorcycles, that's what. And not only are they buying the dang things, but they're planning extensive, cross country trips, buying waterproof chaps and hideous, space age boots they can barely walk in that are supposed to make a long, uncomfortable journey less so (how? Je ne sais pas!)

It's almost as if their genetic makeup is saying, "look guys, most of you weren't supposed to make it thru the 70's, being seriously testosterone soaked meatballs and such... quite a few of you narrowly dodged the AIDS crisis of the 80's, and really, since you have far exceeded my expectations for life span, it's long overdue that you start to think about how to eliminate yourself from the gene pool".

And truly, what's the best and most efficient means of accomplishing that?
Buy a motorcycle.

Well, having worked with a few realllly miserable old people this past week at the hospital, a quick and dramatic ending might be the wise choice, after all... let's just hope that fate is kind to these foolish, aging men and they don't live out the remainder of their days on a spinal cord injury unit.

But good god! Leather chaps on a paunchy, balding dude? If fate is kind to *me*, let the vision be removed from my mind, such that I won't be tormented with it for evermore.

Regular:

A really interesting phenomena is happening with my daily bike rides on the local trail:
I'm becoming a regular.
Which basically means that some of the more routine riders are becoming familiar, and even though I have never spoken to any of them, have begun to construct identities for them:
There's a skinny older guy who rides pretty much the same route I do, the 10 mile loop. He plugs away at it at a fairly quick pace, but in blue jeans and a button up, plaid shirt.
What's the deal, plaid shirt guy?
Maybe he has yet to discover the wonders of lycra and the beneficial effect being jeans-free will have on his nether parts.
And then there's the driven, sporty guy I see all over the dang place, on he bike trail and most of the roads surrounding our property. He's well appointed in his schnazzy bike duds and helmet, super cool Lance Armstrong glasses (no doubt), and flies like the wind on the trails, kicking my ass (fo shizzle!).
That guy is out there, rain or shine, tearing up the roads and bulking up his already dreamy thighs... sigh! I avoid eye contact for fear that I will get lost in his athletic fabulousness... but I digress (je m'excuse, tee hee).
Why is he there everyday, how can he go so fast? (In defense of fastness, tho, I rode a hard 10 miles in under 45 minutes tonight-- getting faster all the time, wheeeeeeee!)
Then there's the middle aged gal who rollerblades with her teenage daughter; she's made great progress in her technique since I first saw her out there, looking most timid and afraid of how hard the ground is, and how far away.
Today, she was flying down the trail, looking triumphant and a wee bit more slender...
And every so often I'll see an older lady cruising on the trails on a bike with an empty baby seat... she gives a general air of unfriendliness, doesn't like to connect and give the perfunctory "hi" and nod as you whiz past her. She looks a little exotic, like a misplaced gypsy woman who is wary of strangers, even those she sees daily on the bike trail.

You have to wonder: why are we all here, day after day?

Each of us has a story to tell, a motivator that keeps us returning to the sore ass and sweaty, bugs in our teeth trail.
It would be nice if each of us had a sign, indicating our particular driving force (and/or pathology):
"Recent Divorce" (the reason a co worker quit smoking a couple years ago and became a triathelete, losing over 100# in the process), "Sexually Frustrated", "Tired of Being Overweight", "Running Away From My Husband and Kids", "Proving to Myself That I Can Do It"... all these reasons and more (altho I think the dude with the plaid shirts could slip his frustrations down a notch with some fashion tips and a trip to Kohl's).

But I'll continue to keep a lookout for my compatriots of cycling, united perhaps not by what drives us but by the wind in our hair and the benefits it affords us all.
p.s. went shopping today, and I'm down a SOLID pants size, and then some...and with only the slightest bit of sucking, can nearly visualize my belly being as flat as it was before I gained all that weight. I'd jump up and down, but am feeling a little faint (just kidding! Actually, I feel pretty awesome, wahoooo!).

August..

Allow me to grouse for a moment, as the month of August just isn't my favorite, for a variety of reasons:
#1) Everything smells bad; not sure if it's all the heat and humidity that brings out the stank in everything, but there's a pervasive air of rottenness to this month.
#2) Too many @!&%# bugs. Maybe it's cause we set a veritable cornucopia of items from the garden on the counter to rot (which ties in with #1 above), but it's hard to walk thru the kitchen without kicking up a storm of fruitflies (which will eventually make their way into your wineglass and into your mouth).
#3) Everyones gots the antsies, trying to squeeze moments of profound summer-y fabulousness into every last drop of the remaining break. The spectre of school looms heavily over the children, such that if they aren't entertained every waking moment of the day, it is a day lost, and much parental guilt ensues.
#4) You can feel autumn in the air, and it feels SCARY, like 20 degree below days (I'm projecting BIG time, all the way into winter..), nostrils freezing together, scraping windows before work when you're already leaving 5 minutes too late, fall on your ass on the ice scary. Bah!

I'm sure there's more, but I'll spare you the details...

The diet, such as it is (otherwise affectionately know as "the eating disorder") is going swimmingly; I haven't eaten basic carbs for a month now... no bread, rice, sugar, treats, etc... and I've lost a whole whopping 10 or so pounds:-(
(insert "wha whaa whaa whaaaa" sound here).
I'd love to be skin and bones by now, but I guess since it's taken me a whole lot more than a month to put the dang weight on, it'll take quite a bit longer to get it off.... boo.
I've also been fairly fastidious with my bike riding, averaging at least 10 miles per day (+/-). But what the heck am I going to do when the above-mentioned hell of winter arrives, and I can no longer vent all my frustrations via bicycle?!
I'm on the lookout for a decent exercise bike, but ho hum! I can already predict it will make a lovely drying rack and/or clothes rack... cause riding nowhere in hot pursuit of nothing will only serve to depress me. I love to GO GO GO, with a destination in mind... maybe I will have to imagine myself pedalling to the land of "Skinny Ass", to hang out with my friends "Size Eight" and "Flat Belly", beloved and sorely missed companions of old.
Not only did Jake and I ride our bikes into town for dinner, but Maggie and I tore it up on the service road, riding about 2 miles up and down, up and down... she's getting to be quite the good little trail rider, and other than her stopping abruptly to take a poop break every now and again, does a great job of not breaking my bones while I ride my bike and she trots alongside me. We haven't braved the bike trail just yet, but I'm more than happy to run her up and down the road and avoid the pain and embarrassment of her chasing after another dog and breaking my wrist, lol! Maybe next year after she mellows out.

And finally, here's a little blast from the past for a friend (emphasis on "blast"):



Horrific, yes, but essential to the development of the demented adults we have since become (and no doubt is why my hearing is so bad... I remember listening to this at full blast in the back seat of my parent's car with my "cassette walkman".

Shoot it up(and pass the hearing aids...)!

Disgusting But *TRUE* Bike Riding Adventures:

Things that make you question your new love of bike riding:
1) Persistent "crack o the ass" pain-- and, no; you CAN'T put Tiger Balm on it... (you can try, but I highly discourage it).
2) When you get home from a ride, hang out for an hour, and then look in the mirror; to discover that your face is speckled with dead bugs. Isn't there some rule somewhere that if people notice you have dead bugs on your face, they're suppposed to let you know?!
3) Pain in your nether parts (the ones that AREN'T your ass), that can best be described as "chappy lips". This must be why bikers wear goofy looking lycra pantalones vs low rise jean shorts with the thick seam in the crotch.

Anyhoo: I was reminded today of how powerful it is to be seen and noticed-- it's a whole different experience than what I've grown accustomed to, it's quite nice.

Growing Upside Down:

I swear to you that I won't become one of "those people"-- you know, the kind that lists their entire life's album collection and mixed tape selections, all to begin auto play the unfortunate moment you load their blog.
I swear... even though I've done quite a bit of music posting lately.
Perhaps with my recent backtrack to the land of adolescence, music seems to resonate lately the way it did as a kid when every word carried volumes and volumes of meaning-- better than I could ever explain anything on my own.

These gals share my obsession with bike riding (times like a million) and are among my favorites; this song reminds me of right now, as I think I'll be looking at it in retrospect someday:

Sunday

I am hanging my head in shame:

I just discovered that it's been *six whole days* since my last blog!
But I have to tell ya, it's all the fault of that dang job of mine.
I discovered at a wee young age that employment interferes with all sorts of fun, blogging among them. I worked a whole heap o days last week, all of them crazy hectic psychotic days, the ones where you get home and either crawl on the couch for the duration of the evening and begin drinking heavily, or jump on the bike and squeeze a ride in before the lethargy hits you.

Mostly, I jumped on the bike.

It's wonderful to be a working stiff when the kids are away, as very little time needs to be spent on feeding people... one night I brought Jake home some drug rep luncheon leftovers (that had been sitting out for 4 hours, shhhhh...), and another I left him to fend for himself while I scarfed down a handful of nuts and called it a day (only a smidgen simpler than my personal favorite-- "peanut butter on a stick"-- single girl dinner of old).

Since I started adding more carbs to my diet, the "I'm never hungry" thing went away, and I'm hungry pretty much all the time again, but ohwell. The same will power that keeps me from running away to join the circus every time the children or my husband drives me crazy will have to suffice to keep me from stuffing my face at every waking moment, and so far, so good... I don't look like a supermodel or even like a refugee from a work camp just yet, but I'll keep plugging away at it until my diet goals are met;-)

On a whole different note, I was freakishly attacked yesterday by our rescue kitty: the little snot faced monster latched his razor sharp claws deep into the flesh of my neck and then proceeded to claw his way down my back. I look like a slasher victim...
Someone seriously needs to take this cat off our hands, as I'm starting to have "squish like bug" fantasies involving cute little kitties. Mr. Charlie cat would like his ass on a platter as well; I thought the boys would be getting along by now, but no deal, and he's made it clear that it's going to have to be him, or the kitty-- Charlie's already made a little place for himself out by the chicken coop in the tall garden flowers that he hides in during the day to get away from his nemesis. Poor guy...and since Charlie has never gone Ginsu on my tender parts, there's no contest as to who will be evicted.

So things are finally starting to get back to normal after the "great life assessment and 20 year reunion" upheaval.
In the aftermath, and much to my pleasure, I've been left with a nifty bike riding obsession (great time to think *and* abuse your body at the same time, both useful for catharsis) and the jump start of an awesome weight loss plan (I had no appetite for weeks as I was pondering all manner of weighty, existential issues, or at least the very best ones I could manufacture...). Now, weeks later, I've emerged on the other side, thinner, more muscular, and sporting a new sense of self. Not a bad experience overall.

In another embarassing move, I did something kindof funny today. Whilst on the bike trail this morning, I took every opportunity to make comments to each and every meatball who had their LARGE, mostly uncooperative dogs off leash. How irritating... the trails are all clearly marked "keep your dogs leashed", but obviously that doesn't apply to the people who own unruly, oversized animals. It's people like that that make it very difficult for people like me to walk my smaller, well behaved dog on the trail, as being confronted by bigger, unleashed dogs makes her very tweaky (especially since being bitten). My most recent combination of vitamins and new found sense of self must be making me BOLD, lol! It felt good to be so sassy, RARRRRRRRRRR!

So much more to say, so little time left in my last remaining day of freedom before the work week starts anew.... maybe I can continue this later when the sun goes down and I don't feel so bad for blogging while it's so nice outside.

Later: even though I am clueless about all things mechanical, I have developed a freakish mind-meld connection with my bike. As I was riding it the other day, it felt strange-- and altho I couldn't see anything wrong with it (see "clueless" statement above), I knew something was wrong... subtle, but wrong.
Sure enough, pedaling even on the easy stretches got harder and harder, and while I wanted to chalk at least some of it up to out of shape slugginess, knew that it wasn't just me.
I got home, and noticed that the rear tire now had visible damage, and was splitting at the rim.
So off to the bike shop I went, and not only did I get my tire replaced on my very own like a Big Girl, but I broke down and got a brand, spankin new saddle that is booty-lectable and hopefully won't make me quite as sore as my old one.
and P.S.:

Can you tell that I've been listening to the dance club channel (#36 on Sirius Satellite Radio) all week now? Loooooooove it!
Tell me, what does this video make you want to do?
I'll let 'cha think about it...

Light Blogging Day:

Today, while Grace and I were in the car, this *brilliant* song came on the radio. It's quite possibly my favorite forgotten song in the world, which speaks a volume or two about me...
And these are totally my people, my tribe--where o where can they be?

I would love nothing more than to wear a patterened body suit and platform heels and rock out on a spiral platform, if only it wouldn't traumatize my children;-0

The only bad thing is that I'm sure to have a tiny, disembodied head singing backup vocals in my brain all day tomorrow...

Best iPhone video ever, too.

oooHlaLAALALlalalalala!

Viva la Hangover!

Long overdue chats with old friends + bottle of wine= feeling like death the next day, oy! (ok, it was 1/2 bottle, I've become a major lightweight...)

But it's worth the occasional hangover to be able to connect and reminisce, figure things out, offer apologies for things said and done when we were new and just starting to build the pathologies that were to become the foundation of our adult selves.

How can you adequately apologize for being an alcohol sodden idiot, for mistakes made 20 years ago, for things you did/things that were done to you that weren't intentional (see "alcohol sodden idiot" admission above)?

You can't.

Given the right collection of circumstances, anyone can be a fuck up-- especially when the whole world is before you and you're still clueless as to how it all comes together. Throw in some alcohol, and there's no telling what you can destroy; friendships being the first among the casualties, self worth a close second.

And how easy it is to forgive yourself when you barely remember the details-- drinking is fairly insidious that way-- but one day, even if it's many years later, you'll learn that not everyone forgets...

Is there ever forgiveness? A pseudo-resolution that doesn't involve deeply buried anger disguised as forgiveness? Dunno.
I've forgiven all sorts of stuff over the years, mostly 'cause it required too much energy to remember, to continue being angry, and because I sometimes can distance myself from the offending party (even moving away forever, but I'm discovering lately that this has it's own repercussions...).

Well, my old friend: the world has chewed us both up and spit us out, strangely in close proximity to each other once again... please accept my apology for being young and stupid, for hurting you. I didn't mean it.
And please accept my apology for not remembering, perhaps the shittiest thing of all.

Cry For You:

Tres 80's, no?

I have a new found obsession with this song, if only for today (fickle girl!)... the lyrics are a wee bit sad, tho:-(
This was our Zumba warmup song, which is probably a subliminal indication that I need to get back to class. I <3 heart Zumba, the most fun you can have with your clothes on, hands down.
I have to tell ya, tho: the song really kept my wheels turning tonight when I was too sore to keep going... I think my thighs and all their connected parts need a break for a couple days before I start riding to work each day.
Bike riding trivia:
I think I really like to ride my bike because--every so often--I catch a whiff of something that reminds me of my childhood. You never get more than one inhalation of whatever it is before it's gone, but being transported to places, albeit briefly, is pretty magical and well worth the sore spots.

Oh good lord, Grace just turned on "Titanic"; not 100% sure if I can watch it, too many angsty sort of issues contained therein: wealth vs character, freedom vs the expectations and limits that privilege brings... the painful dance. Me? I'd rather be the self made gal who has the option to thumb her nose at the status quo and slum it up in steerage, always the better party. The option is the key, though.
And should our gal have married the rich, snooty dude and skipped hanging with the cute, poor guy? Meh. Not sure. Pretty much everyone died afterwards, so she might as well...obviously, the girl got one good roll in the hay she would never forget, always a useful thing when you're old and reminiscing... interesting times, to be sure. I recently read the book: "Devil in the White City", absolutely fascinating recount of the era just prior to the Titanic.

Happy Happpy Joy Joy (but dangit, does my back hurt...)

Marital satisfaction ratings are quite high today, as husband gave me the nod to do one my very favorite somethings...

wreck stuff!

Yeeeeeeee-ha!

There's only one thing that I dislike in a household more than whiny children and stinky catboxes, and that's

CARPETING.

Ewwwwww, hate it!

Look at that gray stuff in the picture above... it's a thick pile of dirt that's been living under the carpet that I was only too glad to vacuum up FOR-EVAaaAhhhhhhHhhhhhh!

I think carpeting's vile, a permanent receptacle to hold all manner of gross stuff you THINK is getting vacuumed and shampooed up, but never really does: puppy pee/vomit, spilled things, and all that nasty shit you bring in the house on your shoes. Bleck.

Well, no more- now we just have to find and install some flooring, hopefully something fairly renewable (I put my foot down at laminate, WTF is that stuff, anyway? A photocopy of wood and a boatload of chemicals to hold it in place, lame!).

Jake and Jacob are being their own industrious selves, making good progress on the treehouse outside (photos fothcoming). Such a brilliant move to marry the handy guy, who not only can build a variety of things, but is more than happy to let me tear things up in a useful way (and itsn't too hard on the ole eyes, either;-)

wheeeee!

p.s. meeting with Hans was *most excellent* yesterday. I was having such a good time talking with him that I forgot to listen to the jazz! Hooray for old friends, it's been great to reconnect after all these years:-)

Work:

I decided to do a trial run on my bike to the hospital tonight, and sure enough, it took 28 minutes to get there, for a total of 5.1 miles.
It was a great ride there, practically all downhill (of a sort..), but then the ride home was more challenging: wind in the face, uphill, and tired from the first 5.1 miles rode at full tilt.
Whew!
I got some news yesterday I've decided I'm going to let roll: that I wasn't going to be offered a permanent position after all.
My boss also made it plain that it would be very unlikely that she would *ever* be able to offer me one, due to the mo-fo union and their system that gives anyone in the hospital first choice of positions over me whether they're the most qualified or not... boo.
But maybe it's a blessing as disguise... and I'll treat it as such, until I have any tangible reason to get worried. I still make quite a bit more $$ as a pool staff (at the top of my pay scale) which is a nice perk... and not having to do call hours is sweeeeeeeeeeet!
So sometimes being rejected is a good thing, and when I show up to work hot, sweaty, and tired next week I won't have the slightest bit o guilt about it, neither (bwahahahahaaaaa!)

New Infatuation, So Sweet...

I've discovered a new love of my life, and it is my delightful iPhone:


I have had many conversations over the past few weeks with fellow iPhone-iacs, from the staff at work who texts me to the super cool pediatrician gal I met last week who secretly texts the cute coach of her kid's t-ball team, while her husband sits nearby (purely platonic, she assures me).
With my phone, I'm able to do things I never could otherwise: chat with people on the sly (I've had more conversations with my daughter lately with the unlimited texting than I've had since the onset of adolescence, esp since she's been holed up at camp for 2 weeks and unable to call), send emails any time of the day (I was sending and reading emails over lunch today while I was chatting with my co-workers, yay!), a well as putting the world at my fingertips, any waking moment of the day. It's been tremendous fun.
Falling in love has been an interesting process, fairly uncontrollable, and hard to determine if it's just lust or the novelty of new features, the titillation of trying new things like texting while listening to iTunes, while receiving a call, while reading my favorite blogs-- all at the same, fabulous time.
So functional! So flexible! And I hear there's DOZENS of optional applications I can peruse to make my phone even more splendid:
http://iphoneapplicationlist.com/
http://www.apple.com/webapps/

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, thinking about all the things I can do with my beloved phone, and I look forward to all the fun it can offer me;-)

So in homage to my new obsession, I include here a montage of my other favorite Apple (Fiona-- whose CD I found the other day while cleaning out the car. I forgot what a complicated, beautiful voice she has, lovely!):

• MTV
• Music Videos
• MTV Shows
• Entertainment News

My body feels different...

It must be all the bike riding. My legs feel more toned, my arms leaner... my ass perpetually sore.
I'm hoping to be able to ride my bike to work tomorrow and each work day over the next two weeks when Jacob is away at camp. It's only 4.5 miles and should take 20-30 minutes, and hopefully won't make me too nasty sweaty for my patients.

Tonight we took a quick ride up to Uncle Harry's for ice cream in an effort to lure Jacob off the computer, and it ended up getting dark much earlier than we anticipated, so we rode home in the pitch black night-- cool!
The darkness of the wooded bike trail was lit up with the occasional flicker of lightning bugs, and it was eerie silent except for the crickets and the sound of our tires on the pavement. And other than the swarms of bugs that went up our noses and in our eyes, it was a great ride (and no, I didn't have any ice cream, but my unsweetened cranberry water was quite lovely, tyvm).

Dinner tonight (minus the bread, I'm going low carb):

Today:

Was a strange one; Jake had his colonscopy and was by far the LOOPIEST patient I've ever worked with. He was like his own intoxicated one man show: slurring his words, repeating himself like 100 times, telling strange tales about hallucinating dogs and whatnot... I saw a new side of him and wonder where that guy lives most of the time 'cause he was reeaally funny.
For a while he was quite insistent on having his picture taken with strange facial expressions, and I couldn't get him to stop fixating on it; I'll post those in a bit.
I don't think Jake and I have ever joked around and laughed like that in all the years we've been together, but it didn't stop us from having one of our classic, old school arguments later in the day, but I'm sure he won't even remember:-)

And today I was able to not only put on my "too tight" shorts, but do yoga in them (because I was too lazy to take them off, mostly)! Ah... starvation, exercise, and the resolution of old teenage angst, always good for the waistline... still 100% glad to have the reunion behind me, fo shizzle.

I promise it'll end soon:

My goal was to get at least 30 miles in today, but as usual, I fell short by the *slightest* margin (28.9 miles, boo), leaving me wanting a little bit more. Story of my life.

Kenosha was quite lovely, as always:

After a very nice segueway, we headed east.

It seems like every trip to Kenosha I take, I have to hit at least two spots: the lake and the cemetery. Odd.
The lure is very pervasive, and I can barely resist...it's almost as if I left pieces of myself behind in my hometown that I keep trying to find. That, and my memory doesn't seem to work the way most people's does: instead of having the ability to sit and recall events, I can only catch snippets of the past, usually through alternative means; smells, sounds, randomly seeing something that triggers a memory, or if someone sits me down and helps me put it together. Thus my past is a disjointed collection of songs, feelings, and mystery odors with the occasional dash of solid reality thrown in (usually by someone else).

The lake is easy enough to figure out, no great mystery there:
Once upon a time, the memories were all happy ones and associated mainly with solitude and friends. I have many fond memories of playing on the rocks, sitting, smoking, contemplating...looking out at the water and feeling the weight of the world, as long as I could stand it.
That, and riding in cars and getting chased, fireworks, moonlit walks on the beach, finding places to make out... and then, later:
The store I opened, that guy I met, the ill advised events that occurred afterwards.
I've come to realize lately that it was these events that led me to leave my hometown, even though I can barely remember them any more. But for years I couldn't go to the lakefront without feeling the weight of bad decisions-- lurking in shadows--revealing to me that your world can change in an instant and take a lifetime to repair.
These days, the ghosts rarely appear and I'm finally able to go back in furtive search of those things I lost.

The cemetery is a quite a bit more complicated... so I'll have to finish this thought a little later.

Tomorrow:

Well, I got gypped out of 4 miles (only got in 16 instead of 20), so I'm hoping to compensate by heading to the Racine/Kenosha bike trail tomorrow and take it as far as I can.

I'm not 100% sure what I got done today, but it sure didn't include any laundry... and I wonder if today will be the day for the poor neglected clothes.



Try this: wear your ipod to your local WalMart and walk around; it's like the soundtrack to the carnival, very surreal.

Tomorrow:

Today was one of those days when nothing flowed, so if I don't get at least 20 miles and three loads of laundry under my belt tomorrow I may very well lose my mind.

Is tomorrow a north day, or a south day? ... decisions, decisions.

I'm looking forward to getting back to normal, catharsis firmly behind me.
All I can say is, it felt really good to get back home tonight after the reunion. Damn good.

Class of '88:

Blog, or ride my bike? Blog, or clean the house?
Hmmmmmm...
I'll try and do them all, but hopefully not at once:

Words can't adequately express how peculiar it was to be in a room filled with familiar strangers; all hopeful, smiling, looking to make a connection with someone else who remembers them as they were in ways they probably can't any longer.

At first I felt somewhat paralyzed with the same fear that's kept me on the periphery all these years, until I found my own personal social butterfly to help me work the crowd....
And you know what?

People remembered me.
Seriously, PEOPLE REMEMBERED ME, and they didn't run screaming in the other direction.

Let me preface that statement for a moment, to explain that I was a most complicated critter back in the day, waaaaay more than I needed to be. And it was a stumbling block, much as it is now.
Being shy takes on many forms: we had our fair share of mousy girls who hid themselves thru conventional means, but I took the alternate approach, shrouding myself under a facade that was in-your-face and faintly whispered "leave me the @#$% alone".
Sad to say, it worked.

So again, the experience of being there last night, opening up to the people, putting myself out there, was exciting and interesting yet made me SAD.

Sad because they were wonderful, because they had so many things to share:
Families; tales of lives off and away, here and there; things they're doing; hopes for the future, who they were in the past.
And sad because I missed so much when I had the opportunity to know them, and didn't.
It was great to see that there was something to like in each and every one of them, as if sufficient years have passed to erase those school day boundaries and we could all just be... people.

Yet I also felt hopeful, since throughout the evening I was struck with a singular thought: we have so much life left and so much more to look forward to, because no matter where we are, it's all still a new beginning.
To a cynical old girl like myself, it's a breath of fresh air and something I'm going to hold fast to over the next few years as I work to take my life in new directions.

I'm really glad I went.

Lyrics

don't pity me...

Overheard while working in the recovery room today:

Patient (whispering): "Wow, who on earth would ever want to work here? The same thing over and over again--hohum--and all the farting..."

Patient's husband: "Well, at least there's all the soda, juice, and water you can drink..."

Snort! Too funny... I love this job:-)

Getting paid to mess around with impaired farting people all day: it's like a *dream* come true:

To each his own, I guess;-)

On a completely unrelated note, I have a social function to attend tomorrow for which I have serious fashion reservations. True, I could save myself the stress and dress in my usual repertoire:

But most of my nursing scrubs and band shirts are in the wash and all my sweatpants are filthy from the last time I cleaned out the chicken coop. (and no, I'm only kidding: I don't own any sweatpants or a *single* band shirt... I'm evolving into quite the girly girl; I must own 50 pairs of shoes and 20 handbags, most of which I never wear. Egads! I barely recognize myself these days...getting old is hell).

This evening, Jake and I went shopping, which is one of the "true signs of marital compatibility" between us that I haven't often perused (the other was his readiness to hang in the bars at Walker's Point and not get huffy when the boys wanted to make nice. Not sure how that factored in, marriage wise, I just really liked that one).

I was starving and a wee bit testy, which aren't the best circumstances for shopping, which I hate (gar!), but I still came home with an interesting outfit, kindof cute, and fairly *screams* "Kenosha" (how'd that happen when I went shopping in Muskego? no clue. I think I also heard it screaming "go on a diet" but the hunger pains made the message less clear).

My new/old friend Mr T and I were planning on wearing coordinating girdles, but were unable to connect to really verify (which is why I prefer the PHONE over e-mail. Far more direct, especially in a fashion emergency: Methinks my friend has a phone phobia. Personally, I can talk much faster than I can type,with no need for spellcheck-- and it's easier to get the ideas out before they dissappate into thin air. Besides, I'm still not 100% convinced that after all these years he isn't a figment of my imagination and would prefer an actual confirmation that he does, in fact, exist.)

I'm sure the experience will warrant much reflection and hours and hours of blogging, so I should rest up. Grace wants pictures, we'll see.

Wish me luck, my social skills are quite rusty:-)

Catharsis:

There is something profound and necessary in a catharsis, however infrequent. Paths taken, paths not taken; it's fascinating to see where the world can lead and where it hasn't, the benefits of certain choices over others.


It's interesting to consider: am I the same person now as I was waaaaay back then, when I was making the decisions that led me to where I am today?


And the surprising answer is:


Yes, absolutely.


How cool is that?



It's great to know that you're not a victim of circumstance, tra la la.

So where the wind and my nature conspires to send me next is anybody's guess, but I am certain that it will be fully in my control and uniquely mine. Wheeeeeeeee....

itchy scratchy

The dang dog must have opened the door in the night; for here I sit, at 5 am, covered in leetle, tiny skeeter bites.

More, later: after some scrounging around, it has come to light that there has been a serious security breach involving the liquor cabinet...
children and vodka, an excellent mix (altho I do remember a certain school field trip involving vodka, orange juice, and some unfortunate printing presses, none of which mix very well either. Oh, and Chichi's-- vodka and mexican food. *So* not compatible... )

And: Maggie's staples came out this morning, and I noticed that she's developed quite the large seroma, bleck. Either it's going to go away on its own, or she's going to have to be knocked out and a have a penrose drain installed. Double bleck.

Ah! Sweet Tuesday, how I love thee...

Bad.

I just did a reallllly baaaad thing, and I feel confident that, since my husband never reads this, I can confess and perhaps not only feel better but totally not get busted.
We'll see:
Husband wants to take a cross country trip on his motorcycle sometime soon, despite my many protestations. I guess working in the field of healthcare has made it abundantly clear that travelling by motorcycle can be hazardous to the integrity of your skull... after all, who will help raise the children, maintain the property, etc and etc when he's a vegetable (or worse? but maybe that's the WORSE). ANyhoo.
Hubby has an old friend whose kids are grown, life settled down etc and etc, who called this evening to set up plans for their ride (to the Smokies?! Are you f'in kidding me?).
Hubby's not here, so I tell the guy: "Jake has a young family and probably shouldn't go on a cross country ride. Your kids are grown, but mine need their dad for a few years yet. Call back then."
Ack.
Another black stain on the soul of the Very Bad Wife. I'm sure it will come back to bite me in the butt someday, but I still don't feel too bad about it... tee hee. Just naughty and meddlesome.
UPDATE: I couldn't keep my mouth shut and blabbed my dirty little secret to my guy. He didn't care, and assured me that he has no plans to kill or otherwise maim himself anytime soon:-)

Tiiiiiirrrrred....

I am in desperate need of a nap, for my past came flooding back to me unexpectedly last night and kept me up to the wee hours... thank goodness for late afternoon lattes, which are always ill advised and are sure to keep me up loooong past my bedtime (happy coincidence?).

It's good to be reminded at least once every 16 years or so that even tho I have no tangible evidence of my lives prior to now, someone SOMEWHERE remembers; that life years ago was more than just a few photographs in a box somewhere deep in the nasty basement, covered with spiders (a major deterrent to reminiscing...).

It's easy to pack up and move on, reinventing yourself every so often and putting time and space between the people you knew, who you were. But you can never fully distance yourself from who you are as a result of knowing them, and the absence will always register as a loss, a hole, unfinished business. It must violate too many laws of the universe to never see the people who helped form you, especially when they're still roaming the earth. How lucky it is that we're all still alive (most of us, anyway) and in a position to connect; but why can't it be easier?
Was there something about our generation, a restlessness perhaps, that kept us moving forward and rarely looking back?

Well, we're all long overdue.
I am so grateful that someone was finally able to make the connection, and a little sad for all the years lost, for all of us.

mon cher vieil ami, c'est pour vous :


and just to mix things up a bit, from the original era:


even tho this version is better (cause all things get better with age, n'est pas?):

Best.Mom.Ever.

Take a looky-see at what I bought my girl today:


A REALLY CHEAP car!

(actually, it's a 1999 Saturn S-Series, woo hoo!)


She's a little rough around the edges, looks like she's been in a few scrapes, but under a fine layer of grime is seriously a *really nice* car.
There's nothing wrong with it that a few visits to ebay won't fix (it needs a new passenger side mirror and some lenses on each side), and the interior is just about perfect (once you washed the yuck out of the cup holders and took a nail file to the scum in the grooves--yecccccccch--it was gorgeous).
Really and truly, it's nicer than the last couple cars I've owned, tee hee, and about $2500 cheaper than most cars in it's class. And I genuinely like that it comes with a few practice scrapes, so the ones our brand new driver applies her ownself won't be as dramatic and/or noticable. Yeah.

OOoooooOOooh! I loves me a bargain, which makes me love this car almost as much as Gracy pants does:-) And of course gives me what every parent dreams of: serious leverage.
Word.

Quote of the Day (but only just today...):

(and I'm not sayin' it has ANYTHING to do with me, I swear...)

Read on a blog today:

"Choice" is overrated. The less wise you are, the more choices you think you have, since you don't know yourself, your gifts, or vocation.
Who had more choices, Hugh Hefner or Tim Russert? When you die, who would you rather be thought of as more like?
Narcissus is a jealous god.

Yee-Ha!

First of all, I'm so buzzed from my 1/2-caff-grande-sugar free-latte-on ice that I can hardly move, which makes me wonder if the nice barista-girl full-caffed me by mistake...
It was my celebratory gift to my Girl, who passed her driver's test to-day (wheeeeeeeee), which is of course cause for celebration... da-da-da-daaaaaa!~
But since she's taken the keys and ventured off on her first solo trip I've felt the earth shift and am now *doubly* paranoid about firey crashes, et al.
Hubby and I were just a wee, little bit hoping that she'd not pass, so we wouldn't have to worry about unleashing her into the world, but that's selfish, I know... you just wanna keep them little and safe I guess, in a world that's much too big and scary (at least to parents).

Anyhoo. She has made a 360 degree turnaround since coming home from Lifest; she's all excited about the great projects they were promoting, hanging out with bandmembers, etc and etc. It's fantastic to see her enthusiastic about all things positive for a change, and I hope it lasts and lasts. She even wants to go to youth group again, yee-ha!
Scoff all you like at religion, my kid is 850,000 times happier, more hopefilled, and more contented with her SELF when she has an active relationship with God and church. That, and she's not a flaming, raging, angry force to contend with all the time, which vastly improves her relationships with all the other people in the household...
Happy days!
p.s. 24 some odd mile bike trip yesterday with Jacob and Connor (my nephew). Fantastic ride down by the lake in Kenosha--it was drop-dead gorgeous. I'm going to try and squeeze aother ride in this afternoon...

Flaming Eyeball!

Well, the cake (and the party) was a roaring success! I eneded up making a red velvet cake in a bundt pan, filling the center with cherry pie filling and dark chocolate ganache; I frosted the cake with whipped stabilized ganache buttercream and covered the mostrocity with rolled fondant. Now, while this sounds like a simple enterprize, keep in mind that I had no idea what I was planning, and the humidity was AWFUL! I had to keep putting the cake in the freezer to allow the fillings and frostings to play nice (as they would have on a less beastly day). That, and my new silicone bundt pan made the outside of the cake taste like plastic (at least it seemed like it did when it came out of the pan-- it didn't when we ate it), hence the pie cherries-- I figured if I filled the center with tangy fruit and brushed the cake with the cherry juice, it would diminish the bad taste (mustof worked...). And then my large pastry bag broke, making frosting a glazed cake more difficult, and I couldn't find my spatulas, etc and etc.

It all came together in the end, thank goodness... my only regret is that I couldn't locate any of my pastry brushes, either (the kids have been getting into my stuff, gah!), so the brushstrokes on the eyeball were primitive looking, and I didn't bother brushing any color on the iris to make it look more realistic as I had planned. I would have liked to have colored the pupil better as well, but had conerns that if the paint/coloring had solvent in it, it would have burned a little too much (it's hard to tell, but the pupil was flaming). The goop around the cake was jello powder mixed with baking soda and leftover pie filling gel; I sprinkled a little extra baking soda on it and drizzled lemon juice around the fondant right before lighting the cake, and it oozed and bubbled... wheee! So Jacob got the flaming, oozing cake he requested, minus a few details I would have like to have added if I had more time, a cooler kitchen, and an actual plan;-) I felt like I was on one of those Food Network cake challenges... and the cake was AMAZINGLY tasty, btw.
So the cake was cool, and suprisingly edible (once you peeled off the nasty fondant with the bubbly gook on it-- some kids ate it just to be gross, go figure...)

Jake planned some fantastic games for the kids, too: we had a whipped cream pie eating contest; water balloon launching and toss; a relay race involving a hula hoop, blowing bubbles, chewing gum, and a slip n slide; a balloon busting thingey; silly string war; and a PINATA, wheeeee!
...And then of course, a game of my very own creation, in which the children had to see how much garbage they could collect in the yard, tee hee (where ALL were winners, especially ME-- bwahahaaaaaaaa).
It was the quintessential "All American Birthday", and it was awesome!

Thank god the kids were finally old enough, such that there were no meltdowns, no kids asking to go home, crying about which piece of cake they got, etc and etc, yay:-)

Hooray!!!

Vacation Week!

It's been a lovely week of vacation, plus or minus a few minor mishaps... the week started off sloooooowly, and while hubby and the children had no problem with doing nothing, it was driving me CRAZY.

Grace had her Lifest trip to look forward to (and all she wanted to do was hang with her friends anyway...) and Jacob was more than happy to while away hour after mindless hour playing Super Smash Brothers: alone, with friends, with different friends, till late into the nght if we let him. Eventually it got to be near impossible to get him off the dang thing, and he got downright snarly after being pried from the thing, his little fists cramped into claws around the controllers... so the computer's now locked (for the same reason) and the Wii is put away, only to come out when guests arrive (and only if they actually want to play the thing-- since of course Jacob might force them, addict that he's become) or when the first snow falls. Frightening to see you kid become a slave to something, and not so fun to deal with the horrific withdrawal they have.

It's been 2 days, and he's finally finding other things to do without moping and wailing, sigh!

Monday I had to wait for Maggie to get released from the vet; Tuesday we just sort of hung out and went tubing with the kids later in the evening (even Grace cracked a smile-- a gigantic, wet one... which was the biggest smile I've seen on her face in looooooong time).

Jacob started out with the boat going as slooooow as possible, puttering around the lake like it was the slow boat to China, but after seeing his sister get whipped around he finally got brave and let us kick up the speed a few knots.

Good, good times!

Wednesday was spent primarily getting Grace ready for her trip, yawn! I'm just hoping that she remembers who she is this week, and comes home with a different heart.

Thursday was fantastic; we put the bikes on the car and zoomed up to Milwaukee. On our pit stop up at Wheel and Sprocket I almost make a gigantic impulse buy; a shiny new bike I don't really need but completely wanted:

A Townie Commuter

ooooooooooooooooo... ain't she purty:-)

But at almost $600, and almost exactly like the bike I already own (except mine isn't candy apple red, doesn't have color matching fenders or a bike generated light, oh, and the step through, foot forward design is fantastic...) I couldn't justify the purchase, boo.

Sooo practical, and completely no fun, that's me! But when I got to thinking about how much the pretty bike would get dinged up from the bike rack, etc, I couldn't do it. So really, I let the bike go out of consideration for the BIKE, awwwwww. And so true to my cheap self, I think I'd like to find a vintage step thru off Craigslist and fix er up, something simple yet cool for the trails at home.

After a sushi lunch at Whole Foods (which wasn't so great, btw), we parked at Bradford Beach and rode the trails south-- gorgeous! We made a few scenic stops along the way, checking out the new Children's Museum and the Dennis Sullivan (tall ship).

Somehow we ended up in the 3rd Ward, which is just as lovely as I've heard it was: awash in culture, cool restaurants, and fantastic shops... while we were trying to orient ourselves, a very nice bike cop stopped and gave Jacob a free sundae certificate for wearing his helmet, and told us how to get to Bastilles Day without getting ourselves killed (he told us we could ride on the sidewalks to avoid certain death, praise sweet Jesus... he said it wasn't kosher per se, but better than getting flattened by the crazy Milwaukee traffic). Bastilles day was nearly empty, so we got to take full, unfettered advantage of all the offerings minus the crazy crowds. Jacob did some goofy activity and got the photos to prove it:

that kid does a great "running" simulation

He also got to try out the Wii fit, which was silly (and I'm not sure worth the $100 price tag...), and then the dude won a prize for climbing a silk rope a la Cirque Du Soleil... the performer asked for volunteers, and since my guy is completely shy and didn't get the lady's attention, he took it upon himself to mosey under the performer's barricade and climb her rope while she wasn't looking (after all the other kids gave it a go).

It was surprising, yet very exciting to see him being so bold!

He won $3 in "Bastilles Bucks" which he spent on a rosewater lemonade from Aladdin, where we got the BEST EVER chicken plate with garbanzo beans and rice, crazy good! We'll have to figure out where it is and go back for more...

We got utterly lost on the bike ride back to the car, and ended up cruising down a gigantic hill at breakneck speed, hoping to make it back before the storm began. And here's me, having heart failure thinking Jacob was going to lose his balance down the hill and go speeding into traffic.... but he did great.

We got the bikes on the car, pointed ourselves in the right direction (which was harder than it sounds...), upon which time the skies opened up and it POURED, the whole way home.

Yesterday it took a while to get going, mostly because it stormed all morning, and because Jacob was enjoying his lethargy a leeeetle bit too much... getting him motivated was pretty painful for all of us, but when we finally we got a break in the clouds we threw the bikes on the car and headed towards Racine for our last bike trip.

For the most part the trip wasn't too exciting: we got lunch at Shogun, where we were treated to a really cool show by the hibachi chef. The salad dressing was tasty (like a wasabi/rice viniagrette), and the food was pretty good (it was also incredibly $$$ for a little lunch snack, so we probably won't head out there again any time soon).

We checked out the new art installation, the "orbs" or some such thing, got some gelato and then headed back on the new leg of the bike trail, north past the zoo. It was super hilly but scenic, and well worth the huffing and puffing... but we had to head back so we could shop for Jacob's last minute birthday party and pick up his birthday present: a unicycle (cool!).

SO here I am, trying to simultaneously bake/create a cake for the little dude. I have no idea exactly what I'm going to do... I know he wants something that will erupt and/or light on fire... with a request not to replicate the awesome exploding volcano cake from a few years ago (it was pretty kick ass...) while also filling up water balloons, planning an obstacle course, the menu, and doing a couple loads of laundry (and blogging...), whew! Here's to hoping we can pull it off:-)

I think eventually, tho, I need to put some clothes on-- guests are arriving soon, ack!

Bad Day:-(

I am having a *very bad* day and am completely bummed...

(Chicago this weekend was amazing and I'll post some pics later when I'm feeling less dreary.)

I did something stupid this weekend, knew it was a bad idea even, and shore 'nuff, did it anyway. It's another shining example of how fortunate I am to have survived to the ripe old age of 38 with all my parts intact.

Here goes:
Instead of taking my beloved demon pup to the kennel which she hates but is not a bad place altogether, I left her with a co worker, who offered to have Maggie stay for the night. I figured since she has some property, a fenced in kennel and a couple dogs and it was only for one night, Maggie would be happier there than holed up in the smelly old kennel.
When we dropped her off, we were initially freaked out by her gigantic dog, who was acting pretty aggressive towards Ms Maggie, but we had to get going to catch the train and didn't have much time to quibble.
When we went to pick the girl up, she had what appeared to be a cut on her leg-- co worker has no clue how it got there, no big deal--we'll get Maggie home and check it out, clean it, etc.
When I start to clear away the hair, turns out it was a *giant* laceration, about 2 inches long, and deep-- and then I notice that there's more small lacerations on her hips and belly, which start to look an awful lot like a bite pattern. So then it hits me: Maggie was almost eaten by a St Bernard! ACK! Soon after, we notice that she's crying and limping... and I'm freaking out-- she cried throughout the night and wasn't walking well this morning. Sure enough, I get her to the vet and he tells me it's bad, and already infected. She'll need to be sedated and have stitches, antibiotics, etc and etc... poor thing.
And it looked like they were shooting tons of fireworks off while she was there, too, which she's deathly afraid of-- so now, in my lazy ass effort to save a few bucks we have a gun dog who is very likely going to be gun shy, might have a raging deep wound infection, and a gigantic vet bill.
@#$%ing idiot! So here I sit, holed up on a vacation day waiting for the vet to call so I can pick her up, pondering how to approach the co worker: is her dog up to date with his shots? How could she not know he was aggressive and would bite a puppy? (she's having a baby and should probably be a litte worried... esp if she didn't know that the cut was actually a bite). Anyhoo.
It's a wonder my kids are still alive...

That, and we got a notice in the mail that the priest wants to build a 3000 square foot DAYCARE center behind our property. He is not legally within his rights to do so, but since he's richer than anyone on the town board, he's been cleared to break all sorts of rules throughout the years, some of which have become a problem for us. We have incredible drainage and flooding problems due to the GIGANTIC nun mansion he built a couple years ago and paved (which he wasn't supposed to do, because of our water problems, but whoopsie!)-- and where the hell would he put his sign? Right on/adjacent to our property, that's where, with all sorts of people driving up and down that stupid service road all day long (which is not actually a road, and thus has no drainage ditch, etc). Good god, it's depressing. And in light of all the recent media coverage, why anyone would allow priests access to their children is beyond me, seriously.
I need a cocktail, and it's only noon. Boo.

p.s. Ms Maggie, after 20 some staples and $200. Crap.

Best.Bread.Ever. (Strawberry Rhubarb Bread)

Makes one loaf (I doubled it and made TWO):

3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon rum
1 cup flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour (I used all wholegrain white, worked great)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 cup sour cream (used yogurt)
1/2 cup diced rhubarb
1/2 cup sliced strawberries
1/4 cup chopped pecans

Topping:
1 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
3 to 3 1/2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1/4 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

Beat together the brown sugar, vegetable oil, egg, vanilla and rum. Combine the flours, salt and baking soda; stir. Add dry ingredients to first mixture with the sour cream. Stir in strawberries, rhubarb and pecans.
Spread into a greased 9×5-inch loaf pan — the batter will be very thick. Combine topping ingredients except the pecans, they should be thick and clumpy; add the pecans last and sprinkle over the loaf.
Bake at 350° for about 55 to 65 minutes, or until a wooden pick or cake tester inserted in center comes out clean.
Cool at least 10 minutes on rack before removing the bread from the pans.

End your season of strawberry picking with a slice of bread and a strawberry dacquiri, and you'll (almost) forget what a pain it was;-) Sadly, we only got about 7-8# of berries in the freezer (vs 15# from last year), but they were worth every mosquito bite! I'll just have to ration myself...

(My compliments to Smitten Kitchen for the recipe)

20th Reunion

It's been 20 years (well, a little bit more than 20 years since I graduated early...) since I left high school, and who'd a thunk?
It went by quickly, and mercifully so, as it was far from the highlight of my younger years.
And I barely have an inkling to go to the reunion, since I recognize almost none of the names; and those I *do* recognize I can't remember exactly why... so going and standing in a room of strangers would be the equivalent of spending $$ and time to have a random night out, only with greater expectations that I'd see someone vaguely familiar yet still wouldn't have much to say to them (...and I've had enough of those experiences to know that they aren't terribly satisfactory; tous les dimanches, peut-être?)

The people I *really* want to connect with from school days gone by wouldn't be there-- they'd be the kids who dragged my butt all over Chicago, and the one kid I spent most of my time with-- and where the heck are THEY? No clue.


I get the impression after talking with a long lost relative that this is a time when we begin to take an accounting for our lives, probably the first in a long line of many that are to come as we get older. It's as if the milestone not only bears enough significance in our own minds to warrant an inventory, but is spectacle enough such that we feel the pressure to present what we've created for ourselves in these 20 years to the world for review.

We're 38 now: have we gotten married? Divorced? Remarried? Are our children the same age we were when the stories of our high school lives were written-- or are we struggling our way thru the toddler years, or with the notion that it's almost too late to have children at all anymore?
Did we go to college, take up employment in our field of study, or are we changing careers (this seems common for many)? Does it matter if we stayed at home when our kids were born or if we blazed on thru to continue building our careers as we were encouraged to do as part of our generation?
And what defines us as people: what we studied, where we work, our income? Is who we are made more important by who we married, our children, or where we live?
I dunno.
Is my life more or less important because I decided to skip med school and travel in favor of a family and a life with too many hobbies?
I guess this is my own life's question, and what I have to present to the world: