Theme Music

I am obsessed with blogging. There is no other way to say it. It’s like scrapbooking on steroids. I have pictures, videos… even theme-music (like Peter in “Family Guy”)! THEME MUSIC!!!! Who doesn’t love that?


Admittedly, as a beginner, “newbie” previous non-blogger I am constantly having to figure things out. I mean, who knew the joy, the rapture I would feel when I discovered how to EMBED. Really.

Previous conversation with Jessie:
Me: So today I learned how to EMBED a video to my blog!
Jessie: Oh, you mean an HTML?
Me: No...Oh yeah, that was it. The cut and paste, thing you do in HTML mode.
Jessie: (chuckling) Cool, Mom!

At this point I do not feel cool. But hey! At least I have THEME MUSIC!

So yesterday I wanted to share my experience of skydiving in my blog. (hey, Skydiving is cool..) Problem #1: The DVD of my jump won’t let me copy it.
Problem #2: No matter HOW hard I tried, I couldn’t get the glare/image of me using my camera to tape the DVD (like a Dum-Dum) off.
Problem #3: My video which saved to my computer just fine, was too long to upload to my blog.
Problem #4: This is now an all-day project. That. Won’t. Work.
Problem # 5: I will not be denied.

After calling in all resources, (which meant my son and his friend)…hours later (yes! hours!) I was denied. AND I burned the buns I was toasting for our BBQ sandwich dinner. Where’s the theme-music for that?

"Good Luck, God Bless, Stay In The Condo!"

In June 2009 I was witness to the best, cut- you -off at the knees exit line.

My son, Nick had an incredibly busy weekend, just before our "family vacation" to Daytona. The weekend before we were Florida-bound he spent the night (Fri) at a friends house where they played "Hide-And- Seek-In -The-Dark" outside. The next morning (Sat) he was dropped off at his Grandparents house to sleep over there.

Phone call from Mom: "Hey sweetie, I think Nick must have gotten into some poison Ivy last night. I've given him Benedryl and he wore a frozen beauty mask to sleep in, BUT....it's bad.

ME: "What?! How bad??" (Now what you need to know at this point is that Nick, like my Dad, is HIGHLY sensitive to Poison Ivy)

Mom: "Bad. His face is all swollen and he can't open his eyes."

I picked him up and seriously, It looked like he had stood on his face in a patch of Poison Ivy. My son looked like Shrek with his eyes closed (and red, not green). Even his ears were eclipsed by the swelling. Not to mention the rest of his body was covered in rash...but it was the face that was so shocking.

Off to our new family practice where all the office aides and nurses came out to look at my shrek-son while we waited our turn. After steroid shots, creams and an antihistimine the doctor advised me as to what to do during our vacation, for Nicks recuperation. "Reschedule your vacation." she said. "Wait, we just can't do that", I started.... "GOOD LUCK, GOD BLESS, AND STAY IN THE CONDO." she said to MY SON as she whisked out of the room.

wow. The greatest parting shot ever...."Good luck, God bless, Stay in the Condo"

Sidenote:

So, if anyone's wondering..I had him soak in Aveeno Oatmeal Bath twice a day and slather himself up in Aveeno body oil after baths. Between that and his steroids, antihistimines and creme, his rash and swelling cleared up in about 4 days. And we did not stay in the condo.

Dear Jogger

Dear Jogger I almost hit with my car this morning,

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? There you are, I see you happily jogging down the sidewalk. Your earphones are in as you are probably listening to your latest book-on-tape or maybe Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger". I am with you in spirit, wishing I could jog along with you and be all healthy, enjoying the sweat...feeling the burn! I am admiring your safety garb, your yellow, neon sleeves so we vehicle operators can see you. "Good job!", I say to myself. Nicely done, jogger! What a glorious morning for a jog!!

And then you Screw. It. Up. What POSSESSED you to veer left, without looking, no HAND GESTURE, nothing.... to cut across the street without a crosswalk, corner....anything that might have given me a clue? My happy mental music of "Eye of the Tiger" came to a screaching halt as simultaneously my blood pressure shot up, brake jarringly applied and my brain screamed "NOOOoooooo". Nice, Jogger. Niice.

Now I have to go home to change my pants. Just thought you and your neon sleeves should know. Oh and by the way, your little smile and halfhearted wiggle of the fingers doesn't change the fact that I wet myself.

No Shower, Car Trouble And I'm On My Period.

"Ohhh... OH! Well....yeah. Of course you've had a bad day. Yup, you're on your period!".

OK, I admit that the statement, the tone of voice that implies the statement, or even the THOUGHT of the statement above makes me momentarily cringe and become somewhat rabid cranky. I mean didn't you notice the car trouble...the no shower???

I have come to the conclusion that it's not really "the period" that's so awful, it's the menstrual bad JuJu. The once-a-month visitor that brings tidings of hormonal miscontent. Not Joy. There is no joy. I am a joyless lightening rod for all good things to go sour. I have lost my MoJo. Plus, I have cramps.

With that said, yesterday morning I made the breakfast bake. I figured, good hearty breakfast for the boys before our college adventure. And it was good! I figured that between my son (who would eat the vacuum cleaner if I put it between two slices of bread) and my nephew, Sean (the pickiest eater I know) I would get a fair assessment. It was deemed "good", and devoured. I will definately make this again.



While I cleaned up from breakfast I sent the boys off to shower and get ready.
So far, so good...and right on schedule. My turn for a shower and wait for it......no hot water. What is it about the "no hot water" we don't get? Standing there, cold and naked, with the shower going full blast while you shove your hand in and out repeatedly? Nope, still no hot water. Minutes pass, maybe...no. No hot water. It finally sets in. Now it's decision time...cold shower or cold sponge-bath? Geez, well we are running late now, so no time for a shower anyway. Decision made. Icy sponge-bath it is. Hair won't behave, I feel gross and I'm running late. Bad Menstrual JuJu.

Once in the car, balance is restored. Directions, well-groomed boys, gas, and I even remembered to bring gator-aids for when I got the "Hey, can we stop and buy a coke....I'm thirsty." Mental pat on the back and we are off to the college.

The trip was 37 miles long. Of those 37 miles the last 15 were spent in quiet panic with soaring blood pressure, and a cold-sweat of indecision. My car seems to be stuck in high gear (the screaming whine of the engine heard over the radio is indicating something is amiss). Definately something is WRONG. Wait, lets turn off the radio so we can hear it better. Maybe if I concentrate on the pitch of the screaming I will be able to instantly diagnose the problem and make a decision AS TO WHAT TO DO. "What's that noise, Mom/AuntLinda?" Oh, well guys, that's the sound of lightning striking out at my hormonally charged, dark aura.....never mind. Wait, I notice that as I lift my foot from the accelerator the screaming stops. Completely. Testing it I apply my foot to the gas...instant scream! Scream , scream (playing with it like a tongue with a sore tooth). What does this MEAN? I shift my concentration to take inventory as to where we are exactly (actually...looking for a SIGN to help me decide what to do.....if a Pep Boys appeared...THAT could be a "sign".) My engine scream has settled into a consistant, loud "emergency-vehicle" sound and we are just a mere couple of miles from the college. Decision made. We scream up to the college and (Oh Thank you Lord!) there is one, just one parking space left in this tiny, metered parking lot. I slide my car in, shut the engine off and ask the boys...Do we have change?

10 minutes for a quarter, 4 minutes for a dime and 2 minutes for a nickel! After scouring the boys pockets, the car floor and my purse we have 1 hour and 44 minutes. I can actually feel the bad JuJu gathered around my unwashed head like rainclouds, just waiting to bust loose.

The college tour was blessedly uneventful. The highlights for me were the(very good and strong) coffee and watching my nephew during part of the tour. He was standing off to the side of the group, completely engrossed in finger-combing and flipping around his glorious mane of hair. My sister had previously told me of this phenomenon, but I had never witnessed it before. (It truly is great hair. I envied his glorious, clean hair.)

After the college tour ended, we drove off whined away with 30 min left on the parking meter, and a car waiting for our spot. (My random act of kindness for the day......did I tell you that today was the first day of "Acts of Random Kindness" week? Huh.) See how the days glow has just tarnished away? Just get us home, you stupid car. You piece of junk.

We screamed all the way home, but we were home. And safe. So now we just wait for my husband, fixer of all things broken, to come home and we can figure this out. He test drives it and ...it drives fine. Evil, two-timing hunk of crap. Jim looks at me kindly, searching for just the right words....(no rash movements, here) and states it must be an "intermittant problem".

I'm tired, unvalidated and ...I'm on my period. End of story.