Wednesdays Off

Hey Girl

2008-05-05T17:08:00.000-07:00

Last week Sarcasdad and I took the CP on a day trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. He liked the fish and the turtles and the sharks. He really liked the dolphins, although I am pretty sure his favorite "exhibit" were the escalators. We had 12:45 timed tickets for the 4-D theater, so after lunch we made our way there. We took our seats near the exit doors at the suggestion of the staff who said that small children are sometimes startled by the special effects and have to be taken out the theater. Another family with parents and grandparents and two little ones sat down in front of us. By chance a little girl, I would say about 5 years old sat right in front of the CP, who was immediately interested in making contact. He donned the 3-D glasses we were given on the way in and with a charm belying his tender age of three , told the little girl that he was "stylin". This led to a little back and forth between the two,but eventually the little girl exercised her female prerogative and changed her mind. Bored with the whole thing she turned around and sat down in her seat, giving the CP, the 5 year old brush off. Clearly, seeing this as a challenge, the CP pressed on undaunted. He took both mine and Sarcasdad's 3-D glasses and put them on his face. Not knowing the name of the object of his attentions, he called her simply, "Girl". 'Hey Girl ! Look at me. Hey Girl, am I crazy? Hey Girl". Initially she ignored him. Finally, still facing straight ahead in her seat she said "will you please sit down and leave me alone." There was no mistaking the tone. Even still, Sarcasdad had to tell him that it was a lost cause.

On Sunday the three of us took in the Backyardigans Live Show. We were early and in our seats when the family seated behind us arrived. A decidedly older woman, maybe 9, sat down behind the CP. He peered over the back of his seat at her, occasionally popping up to offer a tentative smile. Finally, right before the show started the lady in question showed some mercy and asked the CP if he liked the Backyardigans. That was all the encouragement he needed. The show started and held all of his attention. When the lights went up for intermission the CP wasted no time. He didn't have ant 3-D glassier this time. But he did have his genuine authentic cowboy hat that his Aunt Sarcasmo Jr. bought him when she was at a conference in Texas. According to his Mom he had been wearing it since he woke up that morning. The CP stood and faced the young woman. He lifted his cowboy hat from his head with a flourish worthy of John Wayne and Gene Autry ,brought the hat to rest against his chest, and said "Howdy Ma'am".

The little lady remained unmoved. I don't know how.

A Little Help Over Here Please

2008-05-01T05:26:00.000-07:00

I am having a bit of an issue of my blog. When I go back into my archives, past February 2007, it appears as though the post is missing. Actually, it is there but you have to mouse over the body of the post to make the words appear. The template shows up, as do hyperlinks and tags, although they look like a negative image of the actual post. Any ideas? I did have that server issue mentioned in the previous post, however, the server hosts my blog as a sub domain of my daughter's blog, http://www.sarcasmoscorner.com/. Her archives are fine. I did contact the web hosting company, but they were not able to help. When I go on Blogger and view old posts, they are in the same state. I tried Blogger help, but frankly, their idea of help and support leaves me without that warm and fuzzy feeling.
My girls gave me this blog as a Mother' Day gift. Star got me all set up and she was my technical support. If she were here, I am sure she would have this solved in a jiffy. Left on my own, I have managed to solve most of my blogging issues with a little research. But this one has me stumped.
Any ideas?

Stock Tip

2008-04-19T18:15:00.000-07:00

The bad news is that the server that hosts my, and my daughter's blog crashed last Sunday night, leaving us both as a "webpage cannot be displayed" on the internet. The good news is that it is back up. The bad news is that it was down until Wednesday afternoon, and I don't think anyone noticed except for one young man who visits Sarcasmo's Corner. He emailed me to see if all was okay. (Thanks Chris). The good news is that I learned a new definition of the word "shortly" Apparently, when used by help desk personnel, as in, "this will be resolved shortly", or,
"service should be restored shortly" it means that the user has absolutely no idea what went wrong or when it will be fixed and rather than admitting this would lead you to believe that all is under control, and this is what was supposed to happen. Of course, when things were not resolved "shortly" I was sure that even though the fine person who answered my call promised that all my data was safe, that the Internet Gods had selectively restored all the other blogs, and not mine. This is how my mind works. If I had lost the archives of Wednesdays Off, I would have been disappointed, but not defeated. I can always start over. But had I lost all the brilliant words my daughter had written in her lifetime , that would have left me heartsick. Of course, now that everything is in working order I feel a little silly. But I still plan to make a back-up of all of her posts. Just in case.

Had the blog been up I would have told you that I saw my first red red robin, bob bob bobbin' along. So, in my mind ( the same one that jumps to fatalistic conclusions) it is officially springtime in Philadelphia. It is also primary election time in Philadelphia and its getting a little crowded in town. What with all the candidates, the pundits, the reporters and the National Tattoo Arts Convention. Since it is officially springtime, the grill is officially fired up. I even self cleaned the new oven, as I don't plan to use it again until after Labor Day. Which leads to the stock tip.

The CP was here for dinner one day and we had barbecued chicken and potato salad. The CP asked if we had any mashed potatoes because they are his favorite kind. I didn't, but I made a mental note to make sure I served them the next time we dined together. On Wednesday he was here for dinner. There was a yummy pork roast on the grill and some Bob Evans potatoes in the microwave oven. ( I said I would serve them, I didn't say I would mash them). I was watching a little Noggin with the CP when Sarcasdad called from the kitchen to ask if the potatoes were done.

"What kind of potatoes?" the CP asked
"Mashed potatoes" I said
He thought about it for a few seconds .
"The last time I was here I told you I wanted mashed potatoes. Did you make mashed potatoes for me?" he said.
"Of course" I replied.

He gave me the biggest hug his little arms could accomplish and said "Oh thank you Mom Mom. You are the very best Mom Mom"

Buy stock in Bob Evans. Their mashed potato sales are going to go up.

Have You Heard the One ?

2008-04-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

We have a friend who has decided to try his hand at stand-up comedy. I've heard some of his shtick, and he's actually funny. I would love to go and see him perform live, and as soon as he plays a club where he is on and off the stage before 9:30, I'm there. Until then I catch him on U-Tube.
We know another comedian who plays a little closer to home, and, is in bed by 9:30 as well. That would be the CP. He loooovvves a good knock knock joke. Or any good joke. Once he hears it , it is part of his repertiore. Yes, he is 3, and he has a repertoire.On Easter the family went to brunch and the CP made the rounds of the banquet table, cracking up the great -aunts and great -uncles.
---------------------------
"Knock Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Boo"
"Boo who?"
"Don't cry, it's only a joke"
--------------------------
"Why did the cookie go to the Dr.?"
"I don't now CP, why did the cookie go to the DR"
"Because he felt crummy"
-------------------------
I could go on, but I don't want to give away all of his material. This morning I was brushing my teeth and I heard a cute joke on the radio. I knew he'd love it, so I called him.

"CP, How does a dog turn off the DVD player"{the original joke was how did the dog turn off the VCR, but I didn't think he would know what that was! So I changed it)
"I don't know Mom Mom. How does a dog turn off the DVD player?". (The CP knows the proper sequencing of a good joke)
"He presses the "paws" button"

The CP giggled. "Do you get it?" I asked. "I get it" he replied. He's only 3, but I think he really does get it.

Understandably, Sarcas-sis is is proud that her little comedic prodigy can remember all the jokes, and tell them rather rapid fire,and in no particular order. Possibly she is also slightly apprehensive that this joke telling talent will lead to unwanted missives from teachers.

"Dear CP's Mom- We all love the CP's jokes, but would prefer he refrain from telling them during math class."

The CP's penchant for center stage comes naturally. His Mom, and her sisters all did their share of concerts, plays, and dance recitals. Sarcas-sis participated in a school talent show, I think in about fourth grade. She sang a solo (Mandy), played the piano (The Rose) and as the show finale she and a classmate put on a gymnastics demonstration that got them a standing ovation. As her teacher exited the auditorium she said to me "I had no idea she was so flexible"
----------------------
Knock Knock
(Who's there?)
Letter
(Letter who?)
Letter in-she's knocking!

Always leave them laughing.

Philosophically Speaking

2008-03-10T17:11:00.000-07:00

I was turned around talking to the CP who was strapped into his carseat behind me. I heard a sharp intake of breathe and an "OMG " from the driver's seat. "What happened ?" I asked . Sarcas-sis pointed across the 12 lane divided highway. "That tree just fell over !" she said. Sure enough. A very tall piney type tree was lying across the three outer southbound lanes of Route 1. Two days of rain and gale force winds must have been more than the tree could withstand. Miraculously it appeared that on this very busy highway, the tree had managed to fall without inflicting serious damage on any autos, although I am sure there were some raised heartbeats among the drivers.

It was not lost on me that there was an opportunity to witness an unusual event , and I was looking the other way. But besides that, I can say this. A tree fell, and I didn't hear a sound. Of course t wasn't in the woods. And we had the windows up.

Not conclusive proof of anything , I'll grant you. But no less valid than other hypotheses.

Non- Parochial Script

2008-02-26T16:28:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up there were two school systems where I lived. The Public School system and the Parochial School system. On the street you were either a "public" or a "catholic" As a public. living in the shadow of a heavily populated Catholic church and school, I learned to adjust. If you asked me where I lived I was likely to tell you in "St. Martin's Parish" even though I had never set foot inside the sanctuary. It was easier, and everyone knew where I meant. I also gave up somethng for lent every year, because all my friends did. I was practically an adult before I found out that was a "catholic thing" and I had ben sacrificing for naught.

There were a few marked differences between Catholics and Publics. The Catholic kids wore uniforms to school. We wore regular clothes. In the 60's that meant dresses for girls and dreess pants and sweater vests for boys. Practically a uniform itself, and not the jeansT-shirts and navel jewelry sported by today's public school attendees.

There were holidays. We, the publics had about five national holidays not including Christmas and Easter break. The Catholic kids got off for "saints days" of which there seemed to be one a week. Since the 60's the Catholic church demoted a lot of those saints, and rolled the days off up into one, much like we Publics did with President's Day.

And, there was the handwriting. Public school kids had to print in block leters until we were in about third grade. The Catholic kids, well, they learned cursive right away. And we Publics heard all the horror stories. Stories of nuns with rulers cracking knuckles of those who couldn't fill a page with perfect A's and B's. Of hours spent laboring over upper and lower cases. But oh, the handwriting. A thing of beauty. I did not know one Catholic pupil, male or female, who did not learn how to produce the written word as a thing of beauty. As an adult I worked with a man who had attended Catholic school. His handwriting was a sight to behold. Always perfect. Part of his job was to enter numbers in small boxes on a large spreadsheet. In the days before computers, it was done by hand. It required a copy, and everyone else used carbon paper. Not Bob. He made two seperate original copies every week. There was never an erasure or a smudge on either one. There was no difference between the "original" and the "copy."

In contrast. my public school taught penmanship is deplorable. Mine was even sub -par by Public standards. It was often the grade that kept me from straight A's on my report card, although occaisionally a teacher felt my pain and gave me a pity "A". My handwriting, to this day, dependant upon writing implement and writing surface can vary anywhere from barely legible to chicken scratch. Had I been a male it would probably not mattter in the least but being female I was expected to have some degree of control over the written alphabet.

Knowing all of this you might think I would take care when putting pen to paper. Were that the case I would not have been wandering grocery aisles while on the phone with Sarcas-sis, trying to figure out the last item on a grocery list that I had written. It looked like "Wash slaw". I gave up and went home without the item, only to realize when I was making my favorite chili recipe the next day that I had no Worcestershire Sauce.

I seem to operate under the mis-conception that if I write it I will of course know what it says, Even when I use short hand. This is why when I was in a car with Sarcasmo Jr. this weekend as we shopped for things she needed for her new apartment I was saying' Okay, we got he mattress, the tea kettle and the fire extinguisher, but what is this last item?" Sarcasmo Jr., took a look . Well there's an "S". and is that a "P" or an R" ? she asked. I had to admit that even though I had jotted our shopping agenda on the back of a business card only an hour earlier, I had no idea what "Swd Pipn" was. Hours later, I realized we had forgotten to pick up a Sunday paper.

Tattletale

2008-02-16T16:44:00.000-08:00

We were gathered in the living room the other night, when Sarcas-sis said "did I tell you the guitar story?" She hadn't. She nodded twards the CP who was quite comfortably situated next to me on the sofa." Not in front of him, he'll get embarassed." Seizing on a request for chocolate milk she banished the boy and his grandfather to the kitchen which gave her the opportunity to relate the tale.

Before I retell it, I remind you that Sarcas-dad and I raised three girls, no boys. My siblings were much older so I grew up as an "only" child. When the CP arrived I ferverently hoped I would know what to do with a boy. I knew Barbie, not Tonka.

So far, so good. Little boys, or a least this little boy, are awesome. I may be new to this cars and trucks and bat and ball thing, but so is he, and we are learning all about it together. When he graduated from diapers to Speed Mcqueen underwear I knew it would be a little different than my past experiences. For instance, the girls never did elephant imitations when they were done going potty. It makes me laugh, although I am pretty sure I am not suppossed to be encouraging him.

The other day, a teacher at the daycare told Sarcas-sis that the CP was taking longer than usual to go potty. She asked if he was okay and he replied in the affirmative. He still didn't come out so the teacher peaked over the door of the tot-sized stall. There as the CP, seated, and playing air guitar, Only he had a prop. If you know what I mean.

It was a prety funny story, at least as Sarcas-sis told it while the boys mixed chocolate milk in the ktchen. We had to wipe tears from our eyes as we laughed. And then she said " you can blog this if you want to". I can ? We couldn't talk about it in front of him lest we embarass him, but we can put it out on the internet? We aren't the Sacas-family for nothing. So I said "you have a blog; it's your story." But she claims to be too busy. Hmmmm. Am I being set up here?

CP, if somewhere in the near or distant future, you should find out that your beloved Mom-Mom posted the embarassing story about you sitting on the potty at daycare and playing "guitar", I want you to know.-Your Mother told me to do it.

Gone in an Instant

2008-02-13T03:49:00.000-08:00

Kodak has announced they are closing down the last plants that make Polaroid film. The end of another era. Or, another piece of my past that will be little more than a Hallmark Christmas ornament to the CP's generation.

Probably, if you are at least thirty-something, you have a memory that was captured on an oversized, cardboard like print that came shooting out of the front of the Polaroid Land Camera. If the photo was pre-1963, it is black and white. That's right kids. Black and white film was not artistic choice back in the day. It was the only choice.

It was "instant" photography technology. Instant has of course become a relative term. Much faster than dropping your photos off at the drugstore and picking them up a week later. Not anywhere near as quick as capturing the digital image, previewing it, uploading it, and sharing it with the world. Call me crazy but I think kids would still get a kick out of watching the image they just clicked on , appear little by little on the exposed film. Do you remember holding it by the corner and flapping it in the air so it would dry faster?

The whole time I am writing this, the Paul Simon song ,"Kodachrome", is playing in my head. Of course, Kodachrome film has nothing to do with Polaroid instant film. But it would still be a nice song for Hallmark to use if they decide to make the Polaroid Camera ornament a musical one.

Year of the Mouse

2008-02-06T03:55:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes, I know. It's the Year of the Rat this Chinese New Year. But mice are cuter. And anyway, I was referring to the rodent representation in the Super Bowl ads. Did you see? There was the Doritos Commercial and the Bridgestone Tires ad. There may have been others, but I went to bed after Tom Petty. After a holiday season where the little critters were woefully under represented, it is good to see they still have marketability. Maybe they got a new PR firm.

In Malaysia, red panties with a mouse motif are considered a lucky charm for the new year. If I can't find mouse themed cards for Christmas 2008, maybe I can pick these up cheap at an after Chinese New Year clearance sale.

Watch your mailbox.

Publish Post

2008-01-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

And you thought you did all the hard work. As seen on Phillyist.

THE LIFE CYCLE OF A BLOG POST

Pop Pop Pop

2008-01-28T04:12:00.001-08:00

Am I the first to wish you a happy Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day . I thought so. I love the phone technique of the guy on the top right video. I may employ that method at work. And the guy on the bottom right , has too much time on his hands.

Cultural Icon

2008-01-27T11:02:00.000-08:00

On the list of things I never thought I would do was "pose for a photo that would become a playing card in a game ." I have to cross that one off.

Peccable is one of "the kids". He and Star collaborated on a game of Interactive Fiction called "Slouching Towards Bedlam". The game won four XYZZY awards in 2003, including Best Game. It was one of the proudest moments of Star's life, made even better because she shared it with her close friend.

Peccasble has developed another game called Realpolitik, which he describes as "a game of lies, murder, and dirty tricks for 2-5 players ." Game play is accomplished with a set of playing cards. To produce these cards Peccable gathered family, friends and some props. He was kind enough to include Sarcas-dad & I in the the process. And that is how I wound up as Csssandra ,who, I believe is a secret agent and as a kidnap victim. Sarcasdad is also an agent I think and I'm pretty sure his fist is the focus of another card. I have seen the finished cards, but I haven't picked up m copy of the game yet so I' m going on memory here.

Peccable also included Star in the game. Here is her card.

She would be pleased. Thanks Peccable.

To find out more about Realpolitik visit Peccable Productions.

To find out more about Star visit Sarcasmo's Corner. If you do, go back into the archives to read her posts which are incredible. She really was a cultural icon. The more recent posts are mine.

You an buy Realpolitik here.

SuperBowl Predictions

2008-01-24T04:15:00.000-08:00

I know. You didn't expect me to weigh in on the Super Bowl did you?

Like many families around the globe we here at the Sarcas-house have a Super Bowl tradition. We gather in front of the television , armed with enough snack food to sustain an actual football team, and hunker down to watch. The commercials. We surf the internet and read the Sunday paper during the game, but when those commercials come on we are riveted to the set. Over the years, the kids have dispersed to their own homes, leaving Sarcas-dad and I to carry on ourselves. And we do, still with enough snack food to feed that football team. I know the tradition took with the girls though. One year we were watching the commercials and when the game resumed our phone rang. It was Sarcas-sis calling, I think from Germany where the game was being aired live at some obscene hour in the morning and she was shouting "Who's your Daddy?" into the phone in reference to an ad that had just debuted. Ahhh, tradition.

We learned early on that the whole Super Bowl thing is a lot more interesting if you are rooting for somebody. We have no loyalties. It would have been easy just to root for whoever Sarcas-dad thought would win. I think he does actually watch the game, although he long ago gave up trying to interest any of us in the details of touchdowns and penalties and first downs. The girls and I thought long and hard ( for about 30 seconds) about the criteria we would assess in order to choose a standard to bear.

We choose the team with the cutest quarterback. Inspired, no? One year we did pick the Dallas Cowboys because their uniforms made the teams butts particularly attractive to watch as they lined up for the snap. But I think that was just way too much for Sarcas-dad so we went back to the CQ stat. Some years it's a no-brainer. And some years it's hard to pick. While we may not initially agree who looks best on the gridiron, we will eventually present a united front.

This year I think might be a tough one. Who's the winner ? Tom Brady or Eli Manning ? Patriots or Giants ? Come on Sarcas-girls. Give me you picks. I'll go first and choose Patriots QB Tom Brady. Although I could be swayed to the other side. What say you both?

Anyone else care to use our scientific method to predict a winner?

Good News and Good News

2008-01-20T15:02:00.000-08:00

Sarcasmo Jr. is packing up and moving on. She will say goodbye to Bear Country and hello to a new home, yet to be explored and blog-nomered. She will also be starting a new job. One that she is looking forward to This is good news. She won't be moving any closer to home,but she won't be any farther away either. I promised her I would be vague about the details so that her professional life stays private. I think I have been adequately obscure. For the record though, we are very happy for her.

And the other good news is, I plan to be spending some time here in June.

They're Like Elephants

2008-01-13T15:34:00.000-08:00

The CP stayed over at our house Saturday night. I learned a few new things hanging out with him on Sunday.

After watching an episode of "Go Diego, Go", I now now that :

a) Dora- of Dora Dora Dora the Explorer fame, and, Diego's cousin, lives on a mountaintop.

and:

b) Llamas like to hum. That's right, I said hum. You didn't know either , did you?

Saras-sis has said on more than on occasion that if the US is serious about obtaining information from suspected terrorists, they should shelve current "interrogation methods" and lock them in a cell with a three year old. After a day of the "but whys" I can see her point.
"Mom Mom-why are you making toast in the oven?"
"Because the toaster oven is broken"
"But why is it broken?"
"Because it's not plugged it"
"But why is it not plugged in?"
"Because Pop pop unplugged it"
"But why did Pop Pop unplug it?"
"Because he has to fix it"
"But why does he have to fix it?"
"Because it's bro---Oh look CP a monkey!"

Seriously I think they would give up Osama just to get a break.

I also got an anatomy lesson. The CP is newly potty trained and trips to the bathroom are still an event. As he was hitting the mark this morning he pointed out that he had a penis. Then he asked if I did, and I said I did not.
"but why don't you have a penis?"
"because I'm a girl"
Thankfully he took that answer as a fait a compli. What did follow however was a verbal survey of everyone he knows.
"Does mommy have a penis?"
"Does Daddy"
"Does Carly?"
I have no personal knowledge about most of the people he mentioned, so I just answered along gender lines. It seemed a pretty safe bet. Hours later, he was helping me throw clothes into the washing machine. A misstep backwards landed him in the basket of laundry. He just giggled and sat there.
"You better get up"
"But why?"
"Because I might throw you in the washer with the dirty clothes"
"I don't think so"
"But why?"( yes- I got one in)
"because then I would be clothes and you would wear me over your not-penis"

He says "but why?'. And I say "but why not?!"

One If By Land , and Two if You're Pregnant

2008-01-07T16:35:00.000-08:00

After 25 plus years of working "with" the public, as they say, I know enough to never say "Now I've heard it all." Never underestimate the ability of people to do something that will make you wonder why you are still in this line of work.

Today a woman called and said that she had purchased a home pregnancy test at our store. But when she got home the stick already had 2 blue lines on it. So she thought t was broken. Not entirely sure this wasn't a scam to get money for nothing, I told her she could exchange the test for a new one. I shared the gist of the call with co-workers and we made jokes about the test being so accurate, it knows if you are pregnant before you use it. Then we went on with the day.

Apparently this woman came to the store a few hours later, and was waited on by another employee.'

Customer: "I called earlier. This test already had 2 blue lines on it when I opened it. I was told I could exchange it for a new one." As she was speaking she tilted the open box and dropped the test stick into the employees hand.

Employee: "I've never heard of that happening."

Customer "I know. I even tried pee-ing on it to see if it changed anything but there are still 2 blue lines" (remember my co-worker is holding the used peed -on pregnancy test)

With any kind of luck she isn't pregnant. Some people shouldn't re-produce.

Consumer Reports

2008-01-02T04:15:00.000-08:00

We need a new TV. The 26 inch box like one one in the living room is old, not HD compatible, and according to Wikipedia:

"On February 17, 2009, the US will terminate all terrestrial analog broadcasting in favor of digital broadcasting, which can be standard-definition (SDTV) or HDTV.[5]"

For years now it seems we have been expecting the one we have to bite the dust any time now. Then we would be forced to upgrade to one of those shiny pretty high resolution sets that line the walls at Circuit City. And do so with a clear conscience. Apparently however, they built this sucker to last, so we have abandoned that line of thinking. Because really the WII looks so much better on a bigger screen.

Once again I turn to you, dear internet friends. You were so helpful when I was deciding on a new vacuum, and a new range. I need your input. Plasma or LCD.? I have read the lists of pros and cons of each and am still undecided. Can you recommend a brand? We will most likely be 12 to 15 feet from the screen. What size do you think is optimal? Any opinions you have to offer will be much appreciated.

You guys are better than Consumer Reports.

It's a Good Thng I Love My SIL

2007-12-25T06:41:00.000-08:00

Because he cost us $44,400. This Christmas morning I did what so many other celebrants did. I went online to check my lottery numbers. Or as we refer to it in the Sarcas-house, "our retirement plan".

The lottery, for those of you who do not play is a state run system that allows you to throw your money away with a clear conscious because proceeds in Pa. go to help senior citizens. Or so they say. I have yet to meet a senior who has benefited, but I am sure they do. Sarcasdad and I, who spent four days in Vegas and only gambled two rolls of quarters the whole time, are for some reason happy to plunk down some hard earned dollars every week, for a chance to become filthy, stinkin' rich. Generally we win a couple of bucks a week, which is actually a negative return on our investment. But a win is a win, and it is just enough to keep us hooked.

I play a combination of birthdays. Our three girls,our grandson, and our SIL. The numbers are 5,10,17,21,30.This morning when I checked the numbers from yesterday, they were 7,10,17,21,30. Four out of five ! Whoo - hoo! That made us one of 93 ticket holders who each won $100. Awesome!

Had we had all five numbers we would have won $45,000. Had SIL been born on the 7th instead of the 5th, this would indeed be a very merry Christmas.

Sarcasmo Jr has been informed that in addition to any criteria she may have for "the one" we insist she include a numerologicaly beneficial birthdate.

Just so you know, we wouldn't trade SIL for any jackpot.

*update- after reading this, SIL said the day he was born was the only time he was ever early. He was due on the 8th

Stocking Stuffers

2007-12-23T18:16:00.000-08:00

I wanted to share a couple of holidays tidbits with you.

I got a lovely surprise in the mail. My friend Lucy, you remember Lucy, from Backwards Borough, read my post about personalized do-dads. She went on a mission and found a white ceramic star with a Santa face on it, and the word STAR in red painted on the front. I'm sure that it is a noun and not a name, but hey. We uniquely named people have to take it where we find it. And wasn't that sweet of Lucy?

The majority of the family went out to dinner to celebrate my MIL's 80th birthday. The evening ended with the evacuation of the restaurant, some ambulances and the fire department, due to a carbon monoxide leak. We all emerged unscathed, but without desert. Some dinners were taken to the hospital, so no complaints from us. The story made the local news where they made it sound much more dramatic than it really was. That shouldn't come as a surprise since these same news people turn the chance of a snowflake into imminent blizzard.

What seemed impossible last week was obviously possible. The gifts are wrapped, the cookies are baked and the tree is decorated. There is something magical about the Christmas tree. I am always slightly surprised by how pretty it is, every time I look at it.

The most Christmasy I have felt so far was when I went to the salon for a haircut. The conversations were all about Christmas. Well ,Christmas and the little Spears girl being pregnant. When I left everyone in the place wished me a Merry Christmas. Their day was merry and bright!

Oh, and I wish you all the happiest of holidays.

Just Do It

2007-12-18T17:48:00.000-08:00

My boss's style of management is, shall we say, unique? His idea of building team work is to irritate each of us until we band together as a group , united by our common goal of making a voodoo doll in his image.

The other day he had just finished giving me a million and one things to do on top of the million and one other things I do anyway. Sensing my obvious frustration he cut me off before I could protest, by saying "If you don't have time, then make the time."

Why didn't I think of that? Buoyed the enormity of this revelation, I rushed to share it with a co-worker.

"...and then he said ' make the time'. Totally brilliant right? My co-worker agreed. We marvelled at the simplicity of the whole idea. Just make the time. We were so intrigued by the concept that we extrapolated it over to our personal life. If we would just "make the time" we wouldn't be behind on the Christmas shopping, dinner would always be a well balanced meal and the closets would be organized.

Of course we have no idea how to make the time. That's okay though. Because today the boss gave us even better advice. He said:

"If something needs to be done, then just do it and get out of the way"

Kind of a cross between Nike and Thoms Paine.

Anybody know where you can get voodoo doll pins?

Merry Christmouse

2007-12-12T16:51:00.000-08:00

Just checking in to see how all you Christmas elves are making out. I read on Lindsay's blog that she is sitting pretty for the big day. Well, I guess there's one in every crowd. (Good for you Lindsay) Everyone else I talk to seems to be , just like me, behind the Xmas eight ball.

There as a time when I had all my Christmas cards signed, stamped and in the mail by our anniversary December 2nd. I often heard from friends that mine was the first card they received every year. It was tradition. That lasted until I went to work full time. But another tradtion continued on. You may be aware that I collect mice. Ceramic and stuffed ones. Not live ones. Although I have had pet mice. And hamsters. And Sarcas-sis had a guinea pig. But for now, just the fluffy stuffed kind and the pretty painted kind.

Every year my Christmas card had a mouse on it, somewhere. Some years it was the focus of the design, and others it was just a little mouse in a big picture. But it was there.It is a tradition.

Until this year. This is a mouse free retail season. I , assisted at various times, in various locations, by Sarcas-dad, Saras-sis and Sarasmo Jr. have scoured the card racks of gift stores, supermarkets, department stores, party stores, department stores, and anywhere else that may possibly have had a box of cards. Not one mouse. Nada. Not even a little one in the corner.

I am well aware that mice don't exactly personify the Christmas season, like say a reindeer.But today I saw an LED frog in a Santa hat intended for use on the front lawn as a Christmas decoration. I'm pretty sure a mouse is more Christmasy than that. It is, right?

It;s not just the Christmas cards. There are no mouse themed ornaments on the shelves either. When I say "no" please be advised that I do not consider Mickey an actual mouse. I have quite a collection already. But I look forward to adding to it every year. Chances for that are looking pretty slim.

Sarcas-sis offered to design and print me a card. It retrospect. perhaps I should have gone that route. But I held out hope, however slim, that I would come across that box of mouse adorned greetings. Even today as Sarcas-dad stood in a really long line at Kmart where there were only two cashiers open at 3 in the afternoon, two weeks before Christmas, I went through every card display in the place. Not one mouse.

I give.

In compromise, Sarcas-dad and I purchased a rubber stamp of a mouse to apply along with our signature. Sadly, it's the best we can do this year.

In case, I don't get back before the holidays.

I wish you a Merry Christmouse.

My Pretty

2007-12-08T08:38:00.000-08:00

I'm back . Back from 89 sunny degrees and sunsets on the beach to below freezing temperatures and forecasts of snow showers. I know I didn't mention I was going. Paranoid as it may sound, asking Sarcas-sis to pick up the mail and the papers(and as it happened, shoveling the walk) so the house didn't look un-lived in, and them simultaneously posting on the internet that it would be empty seemed a bit irresponsible.

Isn't it pretty?

Of course I woke up this morning to the realization that there are 17 shopping days til Xmas., and I have yet to deck a hall or address a card. In between I promise to catch up on all your blogs. And put a post or two on mine. Oh, and answer the meme that Kenju tagged me with.

But isn't it pretty?

The Name Game

2007-11-27T16:35:00.000-08:00

My name does double duty as an ice breaker. Rarely, when introduced, does my name not elicit comment. I get, "my, that's a pretty name". or 'is that your real name?" If I am at work I am often asked if that is my name on my badge or am I employee of the month. Yes, my name is unusual, in a time when unusual names are a more common occurrence. This was not the case when I was younger. Back then , if there were 15 girls in my class, 5 were named Debbie, 5 were named Carol and the rest were divided between Pats and Lindas. Guaranteed, I was the only Star. So I was different, when different wasn't good. I suffered the slings and arrows, the inevitable jokes, the many renditions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and the Star Spangled Banner. The constant query about my relationship to Sally Starr,( a local television celeb) or in later years the infamous ooutlaw Belle Starr. Even today, there is a co-worker , who when he wants my attention calls me"Star Light Star Bright".

I've learned to deal. None of these things are worth a second thought. But if any name related effrontery is gong to send me to the analyst's couch, it will be this. You know the racks of personalized mugs. magnets, pencils, or whatever that are sold in gift shops everywhere ? My name is not there. Not ever. The names go from Stacy to Stephanie. Skips right over Star. Every time.

I still look. Every time. Buoyed by the fact that approximately every tenth person or so who comments on my name says "I went to school with a girl named Star. Was it you?", I assume my name must be verging on commonness. Apparently there are not enough of us yet to warrant mass production.

You may recall that we named our oldest daughter after me. She held up under the pressure pretty well. Although at one point in her early years there was a candy bar on the market called a Starbar. You can imagine how that went. She embraced the uniqueness. She said she was often asked if her parents were hippies. She usually said we were, because it was easier and more fun than the real story. And it was an inside joke because Sarcas-dad and I are the two most un-hippiest people to survive the psychedelic rebellion. Still, she also felt the sting of being left out of the name game. It was an unspoken agreement that if we ever found anything bearing our name we got two of them, one for each. I once scored key chains made of letter beads that spelled out STAR. Of course there were similar ones that said DIVA and HOTSTUFF so it was really a noun,not a name,but we took what we could get.

On Black Friday I was in a card store with Saracas-sis and Sarcasmo Jr. We found a rack of personalized candles. They both easilly found their name. I , as usual, did not. In this particular collection,they had one that read "they didn't have your name". I would have gotten that for Sarcasmo, and she would have laughed.

All of you Davids and Jennifers, you'll never know the disappointment. You Judys and Pauls will never be so disenfranchised. That's okay. According to this list there were 4552 females in addition to myself and my daughter named Star living in the US in 1990.

Anytime now, there's going to be a tricycle sized license plate on a spinner rack.with out name on it.

Team Sarcas

2007-11-12T04:13:00.000-08:00

We finally settled on a new kitchen range. It is all installed in it's shiny Stainless Steel glory. Thus concludes the replacing of all the old almond color appliances. So you know what comes next right?We needed a new floor. The old one clashed with the stainless.

We had picked out and purchased some laminate a few weeks back. It has been "acclimating to the house"in the dining room ever since. With the holidays fast approaching ( if you go by the commercials, Christmas is tomorrow) we figured it was either do it this weekend or the kitchen floor would still be in the dinning room come New Years.

Now remember, we both work in retail, so when I say weekend I mean a Sunday we are both off. So, Sunday, sifter taking the CP out for breakfast we got down ( and I do mean down) to business.

Sarcas-dad and I are a very successful home remodeling team. One reason for this success is that I know how to discharge my responsibilities. They are:

1. Only Do The Tasks Assigned- Sarcas-dad is quite the handyman. He learned from both his father and mine who were also quite accomplished craftsmen. I learned none of my father's skills because I am a girl, and it was assumed that I would marry well. Which I did. Sarcas-dad is quite skillful with his tools. I know one of the reasons my Dad liked Sarcas-dad so much is that he was an apt and willing pupil. Anyway. I do as I am told. Which very often is hold this or push that. Or, as yesterday, "stand on this floor tile while I drill a hole blindly upwards from the basement. And don't let me drill you foot". See I am a very useful team member. Other than that I stay out of the way.

2. Clean As We Go- I am good at cleaning up. So I do. Besides, all the mess makes me crazy.

3.Go to Home Depot-Any and all runs to the Home Improvement Store will be made by me. And there is guaranteed to be at least one. At least one of these has made it to a blog post already. Additional memorable moments include the time I was dispatched to buy 25 lb bags of cement that the were stacked on shelving above my head, and the time I was sent for chicken wire and came home bloodied from the battle.

Saras-dad should know that when he sends my on these missions, I am leaving the house unarmed. It is true that I enjoy a jaunt around the HD when I am just looking. But send me for a specific item and I am lost. It's kind of like shopping for a dress for a special occasion. It I don't need one, the racks are bursting with them. But as soon as I am in the market for one, someone alerts store clerks who hide every last one in my size in the backroom.

There is an old Sesame Street snippet where a mother sends a small child to the store . The child is too young to read so she gives him a verbal list,(That's how old this is. Can you imagine sending child that young to the store these days?) All the way to the store the kid repeats his list."A loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter.(Isn't it amazing what is stuck in my head?). I do the same thong all the way to HD. "A heat gun, a heavy duty scraper, and some Goo-Gone" I had the presence of mind before leaving home to ask where I might find the heat gun.

I looked in the paint dept., but didn't see it. I figured we were putting in new flooring and needed a heat gun so maybe it was in the floor dept. No. When I was finally able to locate a HD employee who was not explaining the fine art of fluxing to someone he graciously told me in exquisite detail where to find the heat gun. In the paint dept. (sigh).

Got the heat gun. Picked up a scraper that looked heavy duty. However it was labeled "putty knife" Even after 30 plus years of home remodeling I have no idea if a scraper and and a putty knife are one and the same thing. Back to the floor dept. for a little looky-loo. Found no scrapers so went with what I had.

Looked high and low for Goo Gone without success. I went to the woman running the self scan registers for assistance. She told me, and I swear she aid exactly this:"the Goof-off is in the paint department". Wondering if that was a Freudian slip I went to the paint dept and found the same employee who had directed me to he heat gun. He applauded that success and once again gave me detailed directions enabling me to get the Goo-Gone, and be gone.

Back to the kitchen where Sarcas-dad and I worked side by side, contorting our bodies into unnatural positions, while one of us pointed the heat gun where the other one was scraping two layers of tile and glue with the heavy duty putty knife. Proving several things. A putty knife and a scraper are interchangeable. Heat guns are indeed hot, especially when you touch the barrel with your bare hand. The last thirty seven and a half years of our relationship haven't been a fluke. We are a good team.

Amazing Grace

2007-11-10T16:24:00.000-08:00

Yep. It's Amazing all right. Twenty two people criss-crossing the world and experiencing once in a life time challenges, in a quest to win a million dollars, and I can't idenify with one of them.

Not one.

The Amazing Race was my first foray into reality TV. (Of course, since then I've become addicted to Dancing With the Stars). I think I accidentally caught an episode of season two. A former Phila. Eagles cheerleader berated her boyfriend on camera for being such a big wuss about leaping off a cliff and zipping across a ravine. I was hooked. Then I hooked Sarcas-dad and we watched faithfully.

When you first meet the contestants , you really don't like any of them. But as the episodes play out you get to know more about them. And , they get these colorful little 'tags". Descriptive little names that identify each twosome. They are generic monikers at first. Best Friends; Soccer Moms; Life Partners; etc. As the weeks go by however, and the competition ramps up, some of the names get reworked. Such as Dating 12 Years / Virgins . Some of the names stay the same, but the connotation takes on new levels of meaning. In Season 11 designations like Cousins; Beauty Queens; and Newlyweds were code for spawn of the devil.

Every season we watched to date has fielded one mature couple at the start. In amongst the Dating Off and Ons, the Hippies and the Clowns would be a Married Parents; Married 40 Years or a Grandparents. A couple, Sarcas-dad and I could relate to. A couple we could compare ourselves to. Favorably of course. There is no competing with 20 something cheerleaders and chiseled models. But the token old people? We have it all over them. As we sit on the reclining sofa sipping our wine and cheering on the bearers of our standard as they jump out of airplanes and scale mountains we would know that we could have done it better. Smarter.Faster.And with no whining. I hate when they start whining about being old.

Eventually, the older couple gets eliminated. But by then we are tired of them anyway, and have put our support firmly behind a couple that looks like they have a chance of winning.

This past Sunday bought us the start of The Amazing Race Season 12. Who are the competitors?

Brother/Sister
Dating Goths
Newly Dating
Dating
Grandson/Grandfather
Friends
Father/Daughter
Married Ministers
Sisters
Dating
Best Friends

No married for 40 years grandparents.. There are the married ministers but they are a same sex couple so not entirely relateable. There is a grandfather, and a father, but they are both paired with younger relatives and while they don't have a prayer, it isn't the same dynamic at all. Sarcas-dad and I feel left out in the cold.

We are tuning in again this week in the hopes that we will find some commonality with one of the remaining couples (the best friends are history) . I'm thinking it might be the Goths.