sigh.

So I wore Little O's butterfly wings to work today, and tried to make myself a little black nose.

Friends, I look like a frostbite victim.

sigh.

Oh, and the Honey got laid off.

Bob Zamora is a cheap and evil man. That's right, I said it. He should take lessons from Harveys on how to treat employees. If only the Harveys were in our area. I realize this means nothing to you all, but it makes me feel better to have typed it, and that's what blogging is all about, right? Free therapy.

We're alive!

 
 
 

While at the tiny hole in the wall toy store/joke shop/dust bin on teh eastside of town, I jokingly asked Little O if we should put some flies on the cake around the frog (Because you KNOW they were selling fake flies at the shop) and instead of squealing in horror, She was all for it. I was very proud. So we bought three plastic flies for a quarter, but I forgot to put them on the cake. As we were putting the candles on it, Little O kept asking me why there weren't any flies on her cake, but we were at the park, and had been shooing flies all day--I kept thinking what an odd question--be grateful, kid!! I may yet raise a dorky girl. She'll be pretty, and she'll be smart, but maybe if I play my cards right, she'll be a big dork, too.

Family night--Yay! Boo.

Last night we went to see this movie at the Fox theatre downtown--yay!

It cost almost as much as a regular movie--boo.

We went inside to discover complimentary tiny cups of soda, and free cookies--yay!

Took our treasures up the stairs to the balcony and were told no food or drinks--boo.

Plenty of seating in spite of our close to the last minute arrival--yay!

Organ music concert at the beginning not doing much for my six year old--boo.

Big O laughing out loud at the Abbot & Costello impersonators--yay!

Little O laughing at the same impersonators--oooh!

Cartoon AND a fifties dance movie before the main event--yay!

Little O whining about when Franklin Stein will be on--boo.

Gah, I can't keep up this format, my attention span just isn't there for this kind of thing. The movie was a lot of fun, and Little O thought the theatre was beautiful and delicious. Both of my O's enjoyed the movie, although Little O had a few scary moments with Drac, Franklin, and the Wolfman. I thought she was a little more ready, but she got over it pretty quick, and maybe that's part of the fun when you're little? No place you'd rather be when seeing those fellows for the first time than snuggled up to your daddy, or sitting on your momma's lap. She was even worried for Franklin at one point, and we covered her eyes when they torched him at the end.

(Cracks me up that there is a Transylvanian castle on an island off the Florida coast.)

A couple of years ago in one of my birthday madness fits, when Big O was still in Karate and wanted to invite EVERYONE, I looked into renting the theatre across the street, picturing a three stooges night in my head. They wanted a hell of a lot more than I had envisioned, so that went down in flames, but I think there is a lot of charm and fun in those old classics (but definitely not PC!!), and they would be a fun theme for a kids party.

In Redding, the Shakey's Pizza (Or was it Straw Hat?) in Cypress square would have those old B&W movies running all the time. *cough cough* That was, ahem, before the days of VCR's when anything could be watched at will. It was always a treat.

Good times then, and good times now. Worth every penny to go out as a family and have everyone laugh at the same bad jokes.

I dislike the drama.*

You know what? I could care less about Sarah Palin's wardrobe.

Gimme a break. As if the Republican National Party was going to send that money to orphans in Africa, or even to build houses in New Orleans. If they had NOT bought her the clothes befitting a concubine she-devil of the third Bush regime* (they hope), it would have been slipped into the coffers of some other Republican hopeful. Why is this news?

By the same token, on a local note, the city council of Sacramento was just outed for their scandalous discretionary funds--They get $50k apiece to spend as they see fit. The TV reporter said one of them even spent 250.00 on a CRAB FEED. Um, yep. When they showed the report on TV, it said they had given 250.00 as a sponsor of a charity crab feed.

As a retail manager, I got hit up A LOT to sponsor things. My little failing store was asked for a ten THOUSAND dollar sponsorship for the Asparagus Festival. Donations and sponsorships are part of community involvement, and I think that's exactly what those discretionary funds are for. Is fifty grand apiece appropriate in these times? Hell, no--but just make the announcement that the council has been told they will get five grand a piece until the police and fire departments are fully staffed again. Don't act like your news crew caught them spending the taxpayer's money on midget porn and new swimming pools at the homestead.

*I dislike drama, but I looove some good old fashioned Hyperbole. (did I use that right?)

Green eyed Monster

For Little O's birthday dinner, we took her out with all of her local favorite people.

Our 85 year old French Polish landlady was invited, as was Little O's favorite Auntie and the Honey's mom.

Mama Dina was lovely as ever, but, I think, a little piqued that Elderly Landlady ruled the conversation.

But here's the thing.

Mrs. G speaks English.

Speaks it through a French filter, granted, but it's still something Little O understands, and poor Mama Dina was frustrated beyond words to watch Little O chatter at Mrs. G. She WANTS that connection with Little O. She was decidedly unhappy to see that Mrs. G has it. Little O is the only grandchild to not understand her spanish speaking Grandma. She adores Dina, but can't have a two minute conversation with her that doesn't involve reciting a prayer or some kind of miming.

I think this breaks my heart. The Honey only curses in spanish at our house, though. I can't teach her what she needs to know, and he didn't see the importance when she was small.

I'm also saddened that MY mom is three hours away and has to hear about Little O spending so much time with ther other grandmother. I want my daughter to have that tangible bond to MY mom, and memories of MY parents. GAH.

It made me unhappy to see Dina unhappy. But Mrs G was over the moon to have been included and it felt very right to bring her with us.

(Side story: Mrs G told the server that in Europe they would have RRRrroom in their coffee. Could she have some RRRrrroom in her coffee? That poor girl's face was the very definiton of nonplussed. She turned to me for clarification, and I said, could you pour a little rum in her coffee? The girl laughed and said she guessed her grandpa always used to put a little brandy in his, and Mrs G said that brandy would be just wonderful. So the little girl brought Mrs G a coffee that had to be 50/50. I could smell it from across the table, and Mrs G's eyes almost crossed. We got her another coffee to tone it down, but she seemed to enjoy it. She also ordered her spaghetti with "two big balls." I was waiting for Little O to give us the wipeout line, but she didn't catch it. I love English as a third language. Of course, my Spanish as a second language was kind of comical, too. Dina wanted to know what Mrs G was ordering, and I didn't have anyone to translate for me, so all I could come up with was "huevos de carne"--wrong balls, Jennifer. sheesh.)

Seis--Happy Birthday, Little O

How can she be six?

tee hee

Even if I were voting WITH them, this would have made me laugh.

A stunningly fabulous weekend.

I had the best weekend and it was brought to me by the most unlikely source.

One of the Honey's brothers.

Specifically his oldest brother, who has had a tendency to bring up every misdeed the Honey ever committed, and endlessly contends that the Honey broke his father's heart. The Honey feels that he did everything possible for his dad, including being the one to find him collapsed of a heart attack, and so those conversations tend to go downhill rapidly. I try to steer clear of it all--my family doesn't DO drama.

This Brother in law, however, sank into the bubbling, oozing tar pits of my esteem when he marched my year old daughter to me in the middle of a family party as if she smelled, and told me that his mother was OFF work and I could watch my own kid. As if I could pry my daughter away from his mom with a crowbar. As if it was my idea to use his mom as daycare in the first place. prick.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I got the call from the Honey on Saturday that we had spaced the party for this BIL's only child, and I'd better hustle to be there by 2--without him. Really? A root canal, no anesthesia, but a camera so I can see what they're doing? That'd be swell!

Packed up my O's and stopped at the store for a funny card, and stuffed some cash in it--who are we kidding, like I'd know what a bona-fide you tube star (don't ask) would want, or as if I would open myself up to BIL's scorn for choosing the wrong gift. Not gonna go there.

But lo, we walked into bizarre-o world. The niece tolerated Big O (those quince practices really helped) and so did her hip/thuggy friends. They were dancing in the garage with a black light all night. When it came time to go, at about ten, Big O actually begged to stay. I was beat and loaded him into the car, but..but he's NEVER asked to stay at ANY family party. He's never asked me to go to a party. When favorite SIL offered to drop him off later, I caved so fast it was embarrassing.

After we left, the cops showed up about twelve to talk about the noise. One of the kids opened up the garage door and they all stared at the cops for a minute and then bolted into the back yard. The cops thought it was hilarious, because true Stockton thugs:
A) would not have had sixteen grandmas and forty-two Mexican aunties wandering thru the garage to keep everyone suitably spaced and decently covered--school dances are not as well chaperoned.
b) would still freeze momentarily, then would have stared down the cops, if not making outright statements about sizzling pork.

But Big O gets to go to school on Monday and talk about the black light, the computerized music he got to help with, the live older girls, and oh, yeah, then the cops broke it up. No, man, my mom wasn't there.
It's a thirteen year old's dream come true.

So I had a little more love for the BIL this morning when the Honey said we were headed over there for brunch. I don't have to cook? hells, yes. We're there.

I warned Little O that all of the little kids she had played with the night before would be gone, so we packed some toys for a bored kindergartner. BIL was way ahead of me, and totally had me beat.

I don't think he expected it to get the kind of reception it did, but he had found something in the Niece's things that he thought Little O would use in years to come:




Oh.My.Dawg. Little O pored over it all day. We talked about alphabetical order, and looked up everything she could think of, We went thru the maps in the back, she started working on her ASL, REALLY wanted the pictures of the Braille alphabet to be raised. All day, she soaked it up. I think he was equally amazed, but BIL found the perfect thing for my girl.

He's out of the tar pits. Both of my O's had a fabulous weekend, and I owe it all to him.

It's done.

I can't deny it any longer.

That smirky smile and the litany of wrong answers--WRONG.ANSWERS.

I tried. I liked the maverick concept, but it was just an uncanny ability to blow smoke rings--right up the hind end of America. He just doesn't seem to get it.

Before I was mildly apathetic, benignly on the fence.

Now I am just scared. People on TV thought he WON that.

Seriously? Were they watching something else?

This is how Dubya got re-elected.


Remember these guys?


Shave off one of those beards an you might recognize that smirk.

Going slightly off topic?

Who picked McCain's suit? It looked awful. When the newscasters look better dressed than the republican candidate, someone on staff is getting FIRED.

Okay, back on track?

You know what you rich, out of touch motherfucker? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of ANYTHING DOES make Joe the Plumber rich to most of America. I don't have eight houses. I don't even have one. I rent. Why? because I am one of the working poor. One of the people you deem unworthy of a tax break. I don't care if you're born into a priveledged family. Lots of people are, and still recognize how the rest of us live.

"Congratulations, You're RICH." smirk smirk.

Yes, Mr. McCain, he IS. That's why you are not my candidate.

************************************

Gahhh--and also the quotations around health. People have stretched the concept of "health" of the mother? Guess what else it means--HEALTH of the mother, you twit!

Gretty Luv

I've been geting lots of Gretty love in my comments.

I keep seeing things that make me think of you, Gretty, so let me return the love!

First up, we have a Choose your own adventure movie, Zombie Style!!!

The other thing is a link to keep a girl and her dog together.

Hope you get some rest!

Ugh.

Glad I worked today.

Sob!

Forget AIG, save Mother's Cookies!!!!

(Okay, I bought the Halloween ones for the kids a couple of weeks ago and almost blogged about the wierd sensation of growing up, because they seemed greasy to me for the first time in my life. The bag is still on top of the fridge...)

Oh, the joy of seeing that striped bag in the basket (Yay!) and then finding out mom had bought the mixed bag (Boo!). Trying to beat your brother to the bag so there would be one or two pink and white frosted tigers or elephants, or--hell, who could tell what they were supposed to be, but oh, they were the ultimate treasure. Once you got down to the bottom of the bag, and found that one last broken bit, long after all the whole animals were gone? Score!

I'll bet no Mother's Cookies employees went on a four hundred thousand dollar spa week...

Birthday Madness

So This Year Little O wants a princess party. But all of her daddy's friends have boys. So how do we make it unisex?

It's a Frog Prince party!

Little O has managed to learn all the words to "I Kissed a Girl" in spite of the fact that we do not have MTV, and the radio stations I listen to play things with more of a guitar theme. The ONE song she figures out all of the word correctly to has to be the one with lyrics I don't want to hear from my not quite six-year old?
(In answer to your question, no, it's not latent homophobia, it's my daughter singing sexual lyrics she doesn't understand just as she learns to shake her butt while she dances)

So we're changing the lyrics for her party"

I kissed a frog, and I liked it,
Hope dad (the king) don't mind it,
I kissed a frog and I liked it,
he went poof and became a prince...

Yeah, it's not perfect, but Little O is loving it.

random nonsense.

Entertainment Tonight came on, and Man, Howard Stern looked like a Skeksis*. It was disturbing.
************************************************
Speaking of disturbing, I think Little O is getting a book of bible stories for Christmas. At a baptism last weekend, she was getting creeped out by the forty foot high crucifix. My SDA-raised brain is always a little creeped out by Catholic Statuary (see childhood nightmares), but she really needs some backstory on that one!

Okay, and the other night at dinner I was asking why none of the nuns my nieces dealt with had the great names like Sister Immaculata or anything, why were they plain old Sister Irene and Sister Mabel?

The Honey started teasing me, asking why I was only asking the Mexicans, and I told him because they were Catholic! Favorite Smart-assed niece chimes in, saying she may be Jewish, after all, and Little O pipes up from next to me,

"I'm a poodle!"

It was a show stopper, I'm telling you.

I may not ever be Catholic, but my girl is getting a little religion in her stocking this year.

A poodle...sheesh.

Can I teach her to say Pastafarian?

*For those of you who did not watch the Dark Crystal on an endless loop, This is a skeksis:

So wrong.

I think I could not be Junice for Halloween without getting fired. But Oh, I want to be her for Halloween...

Shut Up! Now it won't play? I think this is the link, then. Bastards.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/37752/saturday-night-live-the-lawrence-welk-show

What would you do?

Okay, a preface:  When my Grandma passed away, at her funeral, we somehow came to the conclusion that the fly that was buzzing around was her, still around.

 

Do we avoid swatting flies now? 

 

No, but we apologize to Grandma as we squash her.

 

*******************

 

In going through the family photos, we found papers.  There were receipts from the grocery store in the twenties, the canceled checks that my grandfather wrote to pay for the birth of my uncle, and just random stuff.

 

I read the very sweet note my Grandpa Ernie sent to my Grandma when they were courting.  Grandpa Ernie was my Grandma's second husband, but he was the only Grandpa I ever knew on that side, and I would never use the word step- in reference to him.  He was my Grandpa.

 

As I tucked the note back into it's envelope, smiling, I told my mother that a swarm of flies was about to descend, because I didn't envision Grandma thrilled to have her letter read by anyone else.

 

My mom laughed and told me that she had said much the same thing when SHE had read the note, and that her brother AND her son had been horrified that she had read Grandma's letter.  She said that my sister-in-law looked like she was dying to read it, but didn't, faced with the frowns from my brother and uncle.

 

I was honestly taken aback.  Isn't that why we keep things? 

 

My grandmother has passed, and  the only way I have to get to know her better now is through my mom's stories and the things she left behind.

 

Is it the difference between men and women?   Is there such thing as privacy for your ancestors?  Her history is my own, and I loved delving into it. 

 

I dunno, what do you think?  Did I invade her privacy?  

Happy Birthday, Carolee

 

Big O's grandmother died a horrible death from breast cancer.

When people wear pink ribbons? It's because some beautiful brown eyed boy has one less source of unconditional love to draw on as needed. Buy the stamps. Lick the yogurt lids. Because the next blue/brown/green eyed kid to lose might be yours.

I love pictures!

My mission this visit was to help my mom sort through phtots so we could scan some in--we sent the bitchin' ones from the turn of the century to be restored, but I thought I'd share this one. It's my maternal grandfather with his little brother and his parents, we guestimate it was taken about 1927-29.