Wednesdays Off

Snow Day

2010-02-06T17:07:00.000-08:00

Thanks to an event cancellation due to 28 inches of inclement weather, I had a bona fide snow day today. Normally I would be at work on a Saturday, storm of the decade not withstanding. You know how it goes, neither rain nor snow will keep us. Yep, even on a day that the US Postal Service suspended their operations, the supermarket was open.
It was nice to have a day with out a schedule and nowhere to be. Freedom to do whatever, whenever. A rare occurrence indeed.
A few days ago I received two emails. Each from a different web related vendor, and both announcing pending upheaval for Wednesdays Off and Sarcasmo's Corner. Need I tell you that panic ensued ? If you've been reading along you know that Sarcasmo was the brains of the operation. She was tech support. And she made it look easy.
I was relaying my dismay to Sarcas-sis who said we ought to take a class in this blog stuff. That is on my list as soon as I have the time. As are piano lessons. Every time I dust the 88 keys in the dining room I think it should be used for more than displaying photos. I am pretty sure I got the music in me, I just can't get it out. And ballroom lessons so I can dance myself skinny like the celebrities on Dancing With the Stars. I think I got the rhythm as well. All of this while Sarcasdad and I are travelling the world.
If I should ever win big in the lottery, life will be one big snow day. Only I would get to leave the house.

Ish Kabibble

2010-01-23T16:18:00.000-08:00

You know what they say. That nothing brings family together like a wedding, or a funeral. Unfortunately, it was the latter that gathered our clan from several corners of the continent.
Those of us still together last night decided to go out to dinner. So 12 of us descended upon our favorite neighborhood restaraunt. A lovely little spot sandwiched between a bar and a hair salon that serves the best Thai cuisine I have ever had ,with perhaps the exception of one meal I ate years ago in Germany. The place has the capacity to seat about 40 people , so we rather dominated the room. As it goes with such groups, there were conversations being held over top of other conversations. And the 12 included our 2 youngest family members, the CP and Sparkle. They are very well behaved children, but, still children. One an infant. So games were played, like , shoot the matchbox cars down the table, and pass the baby from one relative to the next. I felt a little bad for the couple trying to have a nice romantic dinner across the aisle. Just a little.
I know that Sarcasmo Jr., as well as the Flutist and her hubby, the Composer were sorry they had to leave before we all sat down to steamed dumplings and spicy duck. But they will really be sorry when they learn ,that we, played Whisper Down the Lane.
I think it started with a whisper from Sarcasis into the CP's ear. Whatever the secret was, he passed it along to his great-aunt.(I know that sentence made her feel old). She obligingly passed it to his great-uncle and so it went , right around and through a great grandmother, a few more great uncles, a second cousin ( or is it a cousin once removed ? I can never get that straight), Sarcasdad and myself and the CP's dad. Right back to the CP who giggled mightily to find that "Ish Kabibble" had come back as "fish & poodle".
Can we party or what?
The game continued through desert. I suspect some tom foolery on the part of at least one Great Uncle. There is no other explanation for" Mickey Mouse " transposing into "Donald Duck."

It's a Little Late to the Station

2009-12-30T14:09:00.000-08:00

Sarcasdad recently took possession of a toy train set. It is the one his Dad set up for Christmas when Sarcasdad and his four brothers were boys. Now not only are those boys grown, but their boys have grown as well. The engineer's cap is being passed to the CP's generation of the Sarcas-family.
The plan was for Sarcasdad to set it all up in time to surprise the CP on Christmas. Besides the train and track there are all kinds of accessories. Plastic houses and places of business. Little people and trees and park benches. Everything carefully stored in the original boxes. To use it all would require space so Sarcasdad decided to set up a platform in the basement.
I think it was the next day we discovered the leak that put into motion the destruction , and consequent reconstruction of, the basement. That was the job that was supposed to be done in a week and in reality took a month. Anyway, that put Sarcasdad a bit behind. As did a major work related project that left him no spare time. That wrapped up right before Christmas and Sarcasdad unpacked the train, only to find it wasn't in working order.
So service was delayed while we upgraded to a more modern system. The engine might be new but it still circles around the old plastic houses and the same plastic people. The shiny new track runs right by the plastic Exxon station where, by the way, gas is advertised at 27.9¢ a gallon, and 32.9¢ for premium.
We are on schedule for a New Years Day inaugural run with the CP at the controls.

The Scenic Route

2009-12-13T12:06:00.000-08:00

One Christmas season years ago, I was in the kitchen and I could hear Sarcasmo Jr. having a conversation with someone at the front door. That's going back a bit since she still lived at home. When I asked who she was talking to, she replied "the UPS guy." I asked if she knew him as they were speaking for a bit longer than it takes to "sign here". "Mom", she said,"he's here everyday at 5 o'clock". Even then I preferred online Christmas shopping to hitting the malls.
This year for some reason I am having delivery issues. Right after ThanksgivingI ordered a toy I thought might be hard to get later in the season. I got the last one in stock and it shipped the next day. I waited , and waited. This particular vendor did not give me a tracking number up front. On December 5 I contacted the vendor to see where my package was. They sent me the FedEx tracking information which showed I was not at home one day, (true, but there was no notice left on my door) and the next day the package was supposedly refused. That day I was home all day. Just me and the carpenter. You remember the carpenter, right? Anyway the FedEx man did not come knocking. The toy was already halfway back to California. In the end I located another one to order by mail. Then I saw one at a store and bought it, just to be on the safe side. The one I ordered made it to my door as well. So if anyone is looking for the Transformer Construction Devastator, I have an extra.
I also ordered something from a vendor I have dealt with many times before. They are always prompt in their delivery. It shipped on the 8th. This vendor always supplies a tracking number and I have been watching it like a hawk. That is how I know that so far it has traveled from a town in upstate Pennsylania (A), to Rutherford NJ,(B) to Elkridge Maryland,(C) on it's journey to Philadelphia.(D)

Seems like a lot of extra effort. So far my package has gone 450 miles to make a 145 mile trip. Hopefully there are no more detours.

Party On

2009-12-13T05:39:00.000-08:00

In a bold move, the CP's parents threw his birthday party in a venue unfamiliar to children of his generation. They had it at home.
No costumed mascots or ticket spewing games. No clowns or magicians. Just Mom and Dad and a couple of parents who stayed to help out.
Space was limited so the guest list was just the CP's very bestest friends instead of his entire preschool class. The parents are all acquainted so they needed no encouragement to drop their kids off and go. In fact, they seemed quite giddy at the prospect.
The party had a super hero theme. The boys decorated their own masks, choosing to use surprising amounts of glitter to express their inner Batmans.
Instead of turning in fistfuls of tickets earned at solo machines for prizes, the boys competed with each other. They played Super Hero Bingo. They were spun around and blindfolded for stick the villain on the Spiderman poster. For safety's sake, more so ours than theirs, they were given stickers to place, not pushpins. Pass the Kryptonite sort of degenerated into something else all together, but the boys were all on board for the pinata. After all, how often does an adult hand you a WMD inside the house and tell you to whack the heck out of something?
In between the boys ate pizza and cupcakes and made their own fun. They weren't on anyone's schedule but their own. They had a great time.
Novel idea. Maybe it will catch on.

Sarcasmom's Top Ten List

2009-12-13T02:25:00.000-08:00

Here are the top ten ways you can ensure going home from the market with smooshed bread and broken eggs.*

#10. Watch me bag your entire order and then tell me you want paper and plastic.

#9. Tell me how much cheaper, friendlier, and better stocked a competitor is.( so why aren't you there?)

#8. Tell me how to do my job, since you are obviously an expert.

#7. Interrupt me while I am waiting on the customer who's turn it really is. I may not bag your order, but I have friends on the registers.

#6. Give your kid a balloon or a toy to hold while you shop because you don't know how to say the word "no". Then expect me to wrestle it off them when you get to the checkout.

#5. Subject us all to your screaming child. (see #6.)

#4. Get in line with $50 of groceries and $10 on your debit card. Then remove the least expensive items , one at a time, and ask me for a new total after every single deduction. If I don't squash your bread the guy behind you will.

#3. Realize as your order is being processed that you forgot something and disappear back into the store. For good measure leave behind the screaming child from #5 for me to babysit while you finish your shopping. Refer to #4 to see probable outcome.

#2. Tell me that all the other cashiers take your expired coupons.

And the number one way to ensure smooshed bread and broken eggs is........

#1. Get into line as the store is closing on Christmas Eve and tell me what a shame it is I have to be at work as you throw your multi-cart order up on the belt.

* you know I'm kidding, right? Right?

In My Mind I Am On the Beach With a Book

2009-11-28T03:05:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about vacation is not having to set the alarm clock. Right ? So naturally I have been up since 4:30, unable to stop making lists in my head of things to be done this week. I am pretty sure the week, which from my current vantage point looks like a long stretch of time which I will utilize with amazing efficiency, will in fact not be anywhere near enough time to get everything done. Unless I block Facebook. I am pretty sure that come this time next Saturday I will be saying to myself, "where did the time go?" Actually this time next week I hope to be asleep, but we'll see.
Getting the lists, which at the moment are more like the message board outside a building I see in New York City, where the news feed just loops around again and again, from my head and onto paper will go far in helping me get things accomplished. Paper? Or the always in my pocket iPhone? Maybe both. Double the work , but I am not sure I am entirely ready to go without a hard copy. I suppose I could put the list on my laptop and somehow load it onto my phone, but that just sounds like more than I can conquer in the week.
The vacation would be better if Sarcasdad was sharing it with me. For years we went away this week in December to celebrate our anniversary. This year will be number number 37. Last year we decided that all the relaxation was great while it lasted which was about until the plane landed and we realized we only had three weeks til Christmas.
It is a good thing we had no plans to travel this year since time and money is being spent on the new sewer pipe and the destruction and renovating of the basement. Sarcasdad spent his vacation housebound while workmen came and went. The project was supposed to completed in a week. ( I can hear you all snickering now). The plumber would come do his thing, the carpenter would come do his thing, the plumber would come back and finish up, and then all would be right with the world. The plumber, who we have used forever, came and did his thing. The carpenter , well we inherited him from the plumber. He came. The destruction part was swift. The rebuilding, not so much. He showed up for two of the three days he was supposed to be here. He was astounded to learn that Sarcasdad was not a man of leisure and therefore would not be lolling around the house to let him come and go at will. Imagine that. He has to work for a living. Since then it has been a day here and there. We have learned that when he says he will be here at 10, he really means he may be here around 11:30. Or not at all, which we find out after we call him. One day he couldn't come because his helper was not available. So he comes on a rare Sunday to make up. He was here for a whopping three hours, half of which involved him unloading and loading various pieces of equipment from his truck. I am not sure if he even used them all. He brought his son along to be his helper, and he, while polite was as obviously thrilled as you would expect any young man his age to be, being out of bed and laboring at 9 am on Sunday morning. His assistance consisted of being sent from the basement to the yard to do or get something. After poking around a bit he would yell down the to his father, that he couldn't find it, and his father would ascend the steps and do whatever needed doing. Heck, I could have done that. Next time the helper calls out I'm there. That Sunday was better than this past Sunday when he was here for a whopping 45 minutes.( sans helper) On Wednesday he didn't show and when Sarcasdad called him the carpenter said it was because of the rain. Not at all sympathetic, Sarcasdad assured him he wouldn't melt so the carpenter came, but was about as enthusiastic as his son was on Sunday.
I am told he will be here this Sunday to wrap it up. I am dubious. I am also not telling him I am on vacation this week. I have so rarely had to deal with independent contractors, having been blessed with people in my life who are handy and hard working. I have heard stories though, and apparently people really weren't exaggerating.
Time to make the lists. Wish me luck.

I Mean It

2009-11-16T18:50:00.000-08:00

The CP and I were playing. He, he proclaimed, was Prince Charming, and I was Snow White, whom he had awakened with a kiss. I know, he had mixed up his Disney princesses , but who hasn't.
After a bit my prince requested that I portray the wicked queen. The bad girls are always more fun so I was glad to comply. I had only gotten in a cackle or two when the prince determined that the queen's less than amicable personality was probably due to a lack of successful inter-personal relationships. He said, he would be my friend and then I wouldn't be mean anymore.
A bit later Sarcas-dad passed through the kingdom and asked what we were doing. "Well" replied the prince, "me, and the Un-Mean Queen here are coloring".
The Un-Mean Queen. I love it. That' s my next blog. You know, when this one gets filled up.

The Trickle Down Theory

2009-10-28T17:12:00.000-07:00

The other day I had a little leak behind the washer. Sarcasdad is pretty handy, but he deferred to the plumber. As the plumber was leaving I heard terms like "demolition" and "public adjuster ".Turns out the leak is not so little.
The soil pipe needs to be replaced. To get to it, the floor needs to be dug up. The toilet and sink enclosed in cheap paneling , which the plumber generously referred to as a powder room has to go, as well as a storage closet and the enclosure around the water heater.
Sigh.
Hopefully, this time next week. it will all be over. Except for the adjusting part. As I understand the procedure, the PA goes to bat for us against the opposing adjuster from the ~~Yankees~~ , insurance company adjuster. ( sorry, Game 1 of the World Series in on the tv). The insurance company coughs up more than they would have without the interference. The PA gets a hefty percentage of the take, possibly leaving us with less than what we would have gotten on our own. But he'll be happy. It's our own personal stimulus program. Glad to help.
The demolition began today with the "powder room" and closets being taken out. I missed it all. I left the house and it was all here. I came back and the basement looks bigger and emptier.
Actually I will miss most of the heavy lifting. Starting Monday Sarcasdad is taking his version of a vacation, where he works from home. He will be dealing with the noise and the mess, and I will be volunteering for overtime at the Pathmark.
It could be worse. At least that's what the plumber said as he gave us the estimate. And if it is, the price goes up accordingly.

Post It

2009-10-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

We were driving home from the mall when Sarcas-sis pointed out that the car in front of us had a Post-it note stuck to the rear window. On the outside.
It was a real life testament to the sticky square, the bottom part flapping in the wind as we cruised down route 1. The sticky strip at the top held firm.
It really made us wonder. Who ? ( put it there) Why ? ( and did the driver know it was there ) and What ?( did it say)
What do you think?

What I Did on My Fall Vacation

2009-10-02T15:24:00.000-07:00

For anyone who has not found out via Facebook or Twitter, I am proud to announce that Sparkle is here! She was born on 9/29 and weighed in at a respectable 7 lb. 4 oz. and is 20 inches long. And she is beautiful.
No one is more excited by her arrival , it would seem, than her big brother, the CP.
To make sure that his life stayed as normal as possible with all the changes afoot, the CP stayed with us from Monday til Friday. We took him to school , and Chuck E. Cheese , and to visit with Mom and Sparkle in the hospital. We had a great time.
I have said before that this blog serves me sometimes as a journal. A place to keep all of those little memories so they don't get lost, or forgotten. So I can remember and pass them on.
This is one of those posts. If you haven't rolled your eyes and hit your back button, I assume you are going continue reading. These were things I wanted to remember. Little things. But at the moments he said them, he made me laugh. Although not out loud. He is at the age where he doesn't like that. I don't know if you will laugh. Maybe you will, if you remember that he is only 4 & 3/4 years old.

Why Didn't I Think of That - The CP announced that he would like to be a skydiver. This was out of the blue (no pun intended), as we were not discussing anything remotely related. I confirmed that he meant "be a skydiver when I grow up" and not "go skydiving today". He said " but I would open my parachute in the airplane before I jumped out. Then I would know it worked"

No, But Can You Hum a Few Bars ?- I told the CP that one of the songs from his Alvin & the Chipmunks CD was stuck in my head. ( Not at all surprising as we heard this CD from beginning to end about, oh, a kajillion times.) He asked which one and I told him, the "weedy-do" song. The CP said he had a song stuck in his head as well. The Nationwide Song. "The Nationwide Song" I queried. "You know"he said"♫" Nationwide is on your side "♫"

Appearing All Week at This Location- We were on our way to see Mommy and Sparkle. The CP was going to meet his sister for the very first time, and the hand I was holding felt a little apprehensive, As we entered the hospital I said that the mommies and babies would all be in the same part of the hospital. We were going to find that, and then find out what room Mommy was in. The CP suggested that we could just peek into every room until we found his Mom. I said that was a fine idea but I was going to ask the nice lady at the information desk. The CP shrugged and said " Well sure, if you want to so it the easy way"

For those of you who stuck with me to the end, here's the payoff.

All the World's a Stage

2009-09-24T18:18:00.000-07:00

Once they were seated, the couple behind us at the theater had my attention. The man declared it had been ages since he had been to a matinee. Then he said " so this is what middle class white America does on a Wednesday afternoon." I wasn't eavesdropping. He was speaking in a stage whisper.

She, had a first name, which I will not disclose here. I doubt any of you will know her, and doubt even more that she might stumble upon this, but, stranger things have happened. It was a pretty common name anyway. He, was identified only by his initials.

Mr. Initials is a producer. I know this because they managed to use the words produce, producer , and producing about a gazillion times. I have no idea what he produces. I do know he is trying to obtain the rights to something, and, if he gets it there is someonr who will probably never speak to him again. But I don't know what or who. They were a little vague on the details.

The conversation segued quite naturally to the subject of Cuba. It turns out that Mr. Initials has been there , in the company of a very famous actor, whose name he did drop, Mr, Initials said that as guests of the State, they were treated very well. At night in Cuba however, the cockroaches come out. I think they were metaphorical cockroaches,

At intermission the house lights came up and Mr. Initials came on. He was soooo disappointed. Where , he questioned with great angst, was the sex? ( The play was Bye Bye Birdie). The actress in his opinion was asexual, and he was not turned on by her at all. ( The character is a 15 year old from Sweet Apple Ohio in the 50's, so, eeeewwwwww)( I realize that Ann Margaret played Kim in the movie, but still, eeewwwww). He also had uncomplimentary things to say about the costumes, the set design and the direction.

Then he went to the bar for a drink.

I enjoyed it. My middle class white American self thought it was a lovely way to pass a Wednesday afternoon.

I forgot to mention something in my previous post. While we all waited for the rescue engine to tow us to the station, I got to finish the book I had started on the train trip up. Just Seven Blocks from the Mexican Border was written by blogger Paul Nichols. I enjoyed that too.

You know,

2009-09-23T18:35:00.000-07:00

it's not that I haven't wanted to blog. Or that I haven't tried. There are several half written posts tucked away in a folder somewhere. Time has just not been on my side lately. All good intentions dissolve by the time I get to sit for a few minutes with my laptop. My brand new laptop, which you would already have heard about if I ever had time to tell you .
Take today for instance. A lovely day in New York City. We went to the Tkts booth and scored half price tickets to Bye Bye Birdie. Row 8 center stage. They were great seats for watching John Stamos & Gina Gershon portray Rose & Albert. Before we saw the show, Sarcasdad suggested a ride through Central Park. We opted for a bicycle rickshaw tour so we could stop and frolic by the friends fountain , and walk through Strawberry Fields. So , a ride through Central Park, lunch, fun broadway show, and to boot, we caught the early express train from Penn Station to Trenton. We would be home in time to see DWTS, and in plenty of time to blog.
That was the plan right up until the train broke down. First it kind of slowed down. Then it stopped. After a while I thought it was getting a little warm in the train car. Eventually someone made an announcement. The train had no power and no one was sure why. We sat, in a closed non-air conditioned space and waited. Since I had a window seat, I saw the flash that went with the bang. Another announcement:
"This train will not be continuing under it's own power. We will have to wait for a rescue engine"
I don't know about anyone else, but my mental picture was of a train engine pulling up with Diego sitting astride it saying "hola amigos". And if it wasn't so hot that might have kept me amused. But it was hot. The weather in these parts was unseasonably warm today. And New Jersey Transit said they were not permitted to open the doors. Whoever made that decision should be shut up in a non- moving train with no air conditioning for the same hour and a half we were. Oh, and from the window I could see uniformed train employees on the tracks. I don't know that they were off of our train. But I certainly didn't see any of them on the train either.
And that's what made me angry. Not that the train broke. I am sure the NJT employees on the train had places to go and people to see as well. But at no time did any of them appear in our car, which was at almost 100% capacity, to see if everyone was okay. Where was that zippy conductor guy that popped in and out collecting fares when the train was fully functional ? There were only a few announcements made, and I don't remember any of them containing any words of apology.
The rescue engine arrived, to applause from the captive audience and pulled us all the way to Trenton. No Diego though. Pity. That may have made sweating profusely with strangers worth it.
As one passenger said, they need a better plan for this occurrence. Yeah they do. Like maybe keeping some water on board.
You know?

Can I Borrow Your Pen ?

2009-08-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

We finished all of our errands before lunch. You know, the ones you do on your "day off". I was making a mental list of what I wanted to accomplish this afternoon . Rearrange the furniture, wash the car, bake a cake.. ..oh who am I kidding. I was going to waste time on Facebook. I really do have some recipes to print out. When I remembered that, I also realized we had failed to stop and buy a new printer. The one we had being the latest in a depressing list of things that have needed repair and replacement around here lately.We didn't feel so bad about this purchase though. We know that we printed Sarcasmo's wedding invitations on this printer, and she got married in 1999. I think we got our money's worth.
Back to the recipes. I told Sarcasdad that I was going to have to write them out by hand and we both had a good laugh, ate lunch, jumped in the car, and went out to get a new printer. Apparently we find that less of an effort than looking for a pen.
Thinking about it, printing out recipes seems like a throwback to days gone by. I got one for a tasty BBQ dish from kenju. I looked it up on my iPhone when I was shopping for the ingredients, and took my phone into the kitchen when I was preparing it for the grill. That worked out just fine. So why waste the paper? I have to say though that I am not a fan of taking the laptop into the kitchen while I am cooking. For some reason I seem to use every available square inch of counter and table space to make the meal and the computer winds up perched precariously on top of other things, or in another room altogrether. Plus, I am not neat. Spaghetti sauce on the display screen would not be good. The phone stays in my pocket when I am not referring to it.
I am beyond worrying about hard copy back ups of keepakes because we back up ours files. (don't we Sarcasdad?) I think if I am truthful, it is somewhat a tradition to paste the paper copies into a journal given to me years ago by Sarcasmo Jr.. A journal I secretly hope the girls will covet, and maybe argue over who gets to have it someday. Of course, I could settle that by leaving each of them my passwords.

If You Had Two, Would They Tango ?

2009-08-12T17:29:00.000-07:00

The CP has was playing with 5 brand new Littlest Pet Shop animals. I asked if he had named them. The cat was Cutie, because all cats are cute. The dog was Hot Dog because it came with one as an accessory. The mice were Eek and Squeaky. The elephant he named Cha- Cha, because :

"everybody knows that elephants love to cha-cha."

If you didn't before, you do now.

Optimisim

2009-08-10T19:06:00.000-07:00

Two women, each accompanied by a little boy were in a checkout line at the store where I work. The boys kept each other occupied. The first woman completed her transaction, collected her son and started towards the door. The little boy asked if his friend Sean, could sleep over at their house tonight. The Mom , looking straight ahead as she made her way to the exit, replied "ehhh, I don't know".
The little boy looked back over his shoulder. "Hey Sean" he yelled. "My Mom said maybe"
That wasn't the way I heard it.

Apples & Trees

2009-07-11T18:12:00.000-07:00

My Friday night was embellished by an invitation to make apple dumplings with the CP and Sarcas-sis. I went to their house with a store bought pre-made pie crust and a box of vanilla pudding. Sarcas-sis had the apples sliced and waiting. And so the cinnamon stick was passed to the youngest generation, The CP cut the dough, piled in the apples and butter and the spices. He folded each one up as a present. Of course, as he is only 4 he had to rely on sous chef Mom to put them in the oven and to cook the vanilla sauce on the stove.
Apple dumplings remind me of my Mom. I don't remember how it started, but, on the rare occasion that my Dad was not joining us , we would make 2 huge dumplings, each big enough to fill a vegetable bowl, and we called it dinner. The deal was always that I made the crust, from scratch, and my Mom did the rest. Because, she always swore she couldn't make a decent pie crust. Funny, me either. Hence the store bought pre- made crust on Friday night. I guess, as she would have said, that apple didn't fall far from the tree.
My Mom was also good about reminding me of things. One day. years after the fact she asked me if I remembered when my girls used to make "shows" down in the basement. When they were little the girls, often joined by this one, and by another as well, who I shall hereby and forever on this blog refer to as The Girl Next Door, spent whole days in our basements, making up a show. Using whatever was at hand from the toy boxes Sarcasdad built, they decorated, made costumes and crafted a "show . When all was ready, any adults on hand were invited in to view their extravaganza. The memories came flooding back, as soon as Mom mentioned it. It was however a shock to realize that I had let that memory slip away.
Being the grandmother now, I can see how the day to day can push those memorable moments aside. I am writing this post more for myself, my daughter, and for the CP, in case I forget to remind them about it someday. I have seen a few articles online recently, comparing blogging to social networking sites. Twitter & Facebook are bullet points for the here and now. But blogs are forever. Or at least as forever as your provider is up and you pay the bill.
After we enjoyed our apple dumplings we adjoined to the basement, where the CP has a miniature electric piano. It is white and is made to look like a baby grans with the slanted top and has a matching bench, and a microphone. He slid on the bench picked up the mic and announced that we were going to recreate "Little Red Riding Hood". Being short on actors, Sarcas-sis played Red's mother, grandmother, and the wolf ! Being 6 months pregnant she did all while seated. What a performance. This left me free to devote my acting talents to the role of Little Red. The CP provided the background music with his piano, and , knowing that the show must go on, jumped in at the end to portray the heroic Woodsman who saves Little Red. The performance was loudly applauded by the three of us when it was over.
An encore was called for and the CP called on us for "The Three Little Pigs". He assumed much more of a directorial role this time, assigning us our parts. I, was the wolf and Sarcas-sis, having proved herself multi-talented was all three pigs. Except for when there were 2 pigs in one scene and then we traded off. Sounds confusing, but wasn't if you were there. Things went smoothly until Sarcas-sis blew a line by saying , as a pig,"not by the hair of my chinny -chin chin".
The CP immediately called a halt over his mic, got up and walked over to Sarcas-sis. "It's not by the hair of my chinny- chin -chin, " he explained "it's YOUR chinny -chin -chin. The wolf has the hair on his chin, not the pig" Sarcas-sis protested that she hadn't gotten a script and was therefore ad -libbing. He said we could start again and this time she got it right, and I was commended from the piano bench for my portrayal of the wolf. Although to be completely honest, the CP did have to stop production one time on my account because I was building a house of twigs and he wanted a house of sticks. Directors ! right?
When it was over, there wasn't a dry eye in the basement. Sarcas-sis and I were laughing so hard we were crying.
When the CP was more a toddler he would insist that all the adults in a room get up and ance with him, or play Simon says. Sarcas-sis predicted he would one day be The CP, cruise director. I think he has an Academy Award in his future. But then he is only 4.
Anyway. It was a lot of fun. And I don't want to forget.

Give My Regards to Target

2009-06-28T15:05:00.001-07:00

When I visit the local Target I like to browse the dollar bins right inside the entrance. I have found many a treasure there. A $1 package of water balloons gave us an afternoon of fun the other day. There's $1 Spiderman place mat marking the CP's spot at our table. The bins are a reliable source of stickers, workbooks, and rubber bugs. The CP accompanied us on a Target run on Wednesday. I steered him to the dollar bins while Scarcadad checked out some electronics. He zeroed in on one item and made a beeline for it. A hat. A plastic top hat, covered all over in silvery glitter, with red and blue stripes. A Fourth of July party hat. It was in the highest row of bins but he stretched for all he was worth to reach one.

Well, there must have been some magic in that plastic hat he found. Cause when he placed it on his head he began to dance around. Like he was in the cast of "A Chorus Line". He did a very impressive side step-cross step routine down in the aisle in front of customer service, ending with a big hat-in-hand flourish. I clapped and told him he was a wonderful dancer, and it might have ended there. Except for the lady at customer service. She smiled and laughed. More than enough encouragement for an encore.

The child who would not that long go hide behind me rather than say hello to someone, took his show down the main front aisle in front of the cash registers. We steered him through checkout, where he doffed the hat and held it upside down in his outstretched hand. I think he was hoping people would throw money.

They didn't . But the whole show only cost us $1.

To (F)B, Or Not To (F)B

2009-06-16T20:07:00.001-07:00

Well, that' is the question, isn't it. I have steadfastly resisted the call to join Facebook. Well, not totally resisted. When invited by Practigal to join up, I decided to forgo my reservation. To overlook my foreboding of either spending more time at the keyboard than I already do, or, feeling guilty that I am neglecting yet another online outlet. I tried to join, and it turned me down. Flat. There was a problem with my name. It was unacceptable. Really? I took it as a sign that I was not intended to have a wall.
It is getting tougher to ignore. Everyday I get another email from someone I haven't heard from in years. "The girl who snubbed you in High School invites you to join Facebook and view her photos." Who can resist that invitation. Everyone at work has friended everyone else, which seems a bit unnecessary since we see each other everyday. And they keep in touch with people who have transferred to other locations. Almost dailyI get messages from so&so that a co-worker found on Facebook. Invariably they say we should get together. Have a reunion. All this time I have only been a phone call or an email away. Not marooned on a desert island.
So I have stood firm in my refusal to join. But the other day I heard that a friend posted the 3D ultrasound of her soon to be born twins, and how neat it is. And when I asked Sarcasis if she had told her sister that her ultrasound shows the CP has a little sister, she replied that she had, and Sarcasmo Jr. posted a reply on her Facebook page. She told me I should join so I could see it. Yeah maybe.
I was actually afraid it would be awkward if I had a Facebook Page. Should you friend your kids? Is that invading their privacy? What if they don't friend you back? What does that mean? My girls have assured me there is nothing on their pages I cant see. So that excuse is gone.
I'm wavering.
If anyone knows a reason why Facebook and I should not be joined together in a state of social networking, speak now. Or forever hold you peace.
But I'm not changing my name!

Rebel Rebel

2009-06-10T18:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Star's birthday. She would have been 36. We went to Rittenhouse Square to kiss the frog. We also went in search of the brick. The one which you may remember, that her co-workers dedicated to her. As we understood it, the brick was to be on a walkway, outside of the Ruth & Raymond Perelman Center of Advanced Medicine across from the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. I first mentioned the brick back in November, when her co-workers also generously remembered her by dedicating skylight, and commissioning a painting in her memory for a new hospice center. We visited the hospice, but due to winter weather , crazy work schedules and early sunsets had yet to locate the brick. This day, her birthday. seemed like the day to do it.
I was unable to locate the walkway online, but easily located the Perelman Center at 34th street and Civic Center Blvd. Also the location of the aforementioned U.of P. Hospital ,a sprawling major medical campus,and Childrens Hospital of Philadelphia. All of it a stone's throw from the Pa. Veteran's Hospital and University City. In other words, a traffic nightmare, and parking hell. We made more trips around the circle, looking for spot, than the Griswalds made around Piccadilly Circus. We were waved off from one garage by a city employee diverting cars from a construction site, and denied access to the Children's Hospital lot because we were honest about our destination. We finally located the Perelman Center parking garage entrance, cleverly hidden down a side street and camouflaged by scaffolding.
The car secured we took the elevator into the Perelman Center, and exited onto the street looking for the walkway.We looked at bricks up one street and down another, sidestepping a roped off area on the Convention street side of the building. None of them had Star's name, or anyone's name for that matter, on them. We asked a valet parking attendant, and he had no clue. We tried the information desk inside.
"We don't have that information" we were told. Apparently we were not the first people to come asking. Not that they had bothered to find out anything. The information desk seemed willing to remain uninformed. Sarcasdad and I had invested too much in the day to accept that. I showed them the email I had gotten from Star's supervisor, and I think the fact that she was affiliated with U. of P. convinced one of the attendants to make a call. She came up with a phone number, and she was done. Sarcasdad took it from there. That number led to another number, and then finally the answer. The walkway was, if you hadn't already guessed on Convention street, right where the roped off area was. We so informed the information desk.
Back outside we tried, we really did, to locate the brick without breaching the orange barrels, traffic cones and barrier tape. But the "walkway" was actually an area under an overhang and right next to the building. We were denied access past the curb. I looked up at the men working from cherry pickers over our heads. They looked to be doing windows. I figured at worst they could drop sponge on my head so I said to Sarcasdad, "Cover me, I'm going in". "Wait " he said, and pointed up the street. "If you're going to do it, go in up there". He was right. I had less of a chance of being seen from there. A man in hard walked by and we waited him out. As I was searching for the best entry point I heard the widow guy whistling at some one. I turned to see Sarcasdad , on the sidewalk, past the tape, searching the bricks for Star's.
No way was he getting arrested without me. That has to be on one of those memes floating around the internet , right? You know. Repost and highlight the ones you have done. One more in my have done column. It took us a couple of passes but we found it. The whole time I was waiting for a security guard to approach and demand we leave. Of course, I planned to throw myself at him pleading and sobbing until Sarcasdad found what we were looking for. I never got the chance, as the worst we encountered was the whistling window washer. But I like to think I could have carried it off. Unless the him was a her in which case Sarcasdad might have had to throw himself.
Anyway, it was quite the adventure. One Star would have gotten a kick out of.
Here's the brick.

I rotated it on Flickr, but for some reason it won't upload that way.

It was well worth all the effort I would say.

Its Enough to Make You Drink

2009-06-03T10:53:00.000-07:00

Today I discovered that Twitter is a good tool for stress relief.
The day started out with a not all together unexpected disappointment. The installation of a new bow window, which we contracted for a month ago, was once again postponed. So I was already annoyed when I made my phone call to the Pa. Liquor Control Board to inquire of the whereabouts of our bi-monthly wine selection. The ill-advisability of the timing seems obvious now.
I'll give you the basic facts of the situation and then tell you about the phone conversation.
Our kids gave us a very much appreciated anniversary gift in December. They enrolled us in the PLCB Wine Connection, which entitles us to 2 bottles of wine, selected for us by someone who has more knowledge of wine than we do. It is illegal to ship wine to a private home in Pa., due to the antiquated laws, closely monitored and lobbied for by the patronage laden aforementioned PLCB. And, also by the AFL-CIO, which I am by accident of employment, a dues paying member. Therefore the selection is shipped to a local state store for us to pick up. The PLCB has been trying to appear more customer friendly to try and stem the tide of busy Keystone Staters trying to abolish the "state store" system " so they could buy wine at the grocery store like the rest of the free world. Instead of "state store" they would like their retail outlets to be called Wine and Spirit shops. Our usual W&S shop wasn't on the list so the kids picked the nearest one. It's minutes away.
January was coming to a close when I remembered we had not received the promised phone call announcing that our first shipment was ready for pick-up. So I called them. And they had no idea what I was talking about. It took a week for them to figure it out, we got the wine,and it was good.
End of March, no phone call. Call the W&S store. They have no idea what I am talking about. Deja veaux all over again. We went to the W&S store where we make most of our wine purchases. The staff there has always been friendly and helpful. They tried to have the shipments redirected to them but were not successful. The manager promised to find out what she could, and , amazingly enough that very afternoon the store that gets the delivery called and said they had our wine. Co-incidence ? I think not.
Here we are, past the end of May. No call. I call. I swear to you that they said they didn't know what I was talking about. I wouldn't make that up because I wouldn't expect you to believe it. Yet, it is true. The store manager said she would call me back. She didn't. I called her. She said she had been really busy and she hadn't had time to call anyone but she sort of thought there was an email about the wine connection but she couldn't remember what it said. She would find it and call me back. For the record that was 23 hours ago. Still waiting.
So, this morning I went online and found a notice that the Wine Connection has been "temporarily suspended". I called customer service. I recounted all of the details.
The customer service representative acknowledged that the club had indeed been suspended, but she really did not know why as she is new to the position. It will start up again in the fall. She assured me that no one is billed until the wine is shipped so the kids aren't paying for nothing. (I'll be checking on that). I questioned why we weren't notified. Oh, but we were, I was told, it was in the newsletter. Each shipment comes with information about the wine, country of origin, recipes and PCLB news. Or did until it was temporarily suspended. "Didn't I read it?" she asked. "It was right on the front page of the April edition". It took several attempts but I finally got through to her that my club was for Jan.,Mar.,May, July, Sept., &Nov.. No April. "Well", she said, "there's a problem we hadn't considered". She also said that the poor customer service I had encountered, in her words, "makes my blood boil". that diatribe was delivered with the same amount of emotion one reserves for reading a grocery list aloud. And when I asked how I would know when the club started up again, she said,
"The W&S store will call you".

And thats when I tweeted. I let it all out in 140 characters or less. And it felt good.

Master of The Obvious

2009-05-25T13:56:00.000-07:00

The CP is, as is mother dubs him, Master of the Obvious. There is no clarity like the reasoning of 4 year old mind. He was outside playing with a new found friend from down the street. They were having a day of water fun with a pool and a slide and water balloons. At one point the CP wrapped his towel around his arm and made a puppet mouth with his hand. "I am Cockroach Man" he declared. I have no idea why, but it made sense to him. I suggested he remember that little bit of shtick for his mother. She has a "thing" about cockroaches. Not particularly bugs, just cockroaches. Always has. So I knew she would be , shall we say, amused.
At dinner, I prompted him to tell his grandfather about Cockroach Man. Pop-Pop asked if he knew what a cockroach was. "Some kind of bird" said the CP. So we enlightened. "What does he eat?" the CP wanted to know. We told him bug food, but that wasn't specific enough. So we told him that if we drop food on the floor, and didn't clean it up, a bug could come and eat it.
When his Mom arrived I reminded him about his new super hero incarnation. "I am Cockroach Man' he proclaimed. Not in her house, his mother assured him. The CP had an argument ready. He told his mother that if you drop food on the floor, a cockroach will come and clean it up for you. He thinks it would make a good pet.
I hope she lets him come back.

By Any Other Name

2009-05-09T17:52:00.000-07:00

So, obviously, the CP and I are far from the only pre-emptive spellers out there. It was somewhat therapeutic to find out that all of you have name recognition challenges as well. My favorite comment of all was Cheryl's "De Wolfe, as in Hungry Like DeWolfe". Whatever it takes, right? Yesterday I interviewed a young woman, a college sophomore who spells her first name Brighid. When I commented on the unusual spelling she told me that people usually tell her she spells it "wrong". I told her she spells it "incorrectly' and she laughed so I hired her on the spot.

A couple of name related stories popped into my head, so I thought I would share them with you.
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Quite a few yeas back I was at the hairdresser. It was the week leading into Christmas and the salon was crowded with women getting their holiday do's. I was sitting and waiting along with two other women, when one of the salon employees stopped in her tracks, put her hand on her chest and said "Oh my God". Naturally , the three of us looked up from our complimentary salon copies of Cosmo. The employee pointed to each of us in turn. "Noel, Holly and Star" she said. "What are the odds?"" Indeed.
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Not as many years ago, but still a few years. a member of my office staff went and got herself engaged to a young man who's family regularly graced the society page of our local paper. We were invited to the engagement party, held in an area we refer to as "the Main Line". Think "Philadelphia Story" and you'll have the general idea. Sarcasdad and I pulled up to the circular driveway, in our Hyundai, and were welcomed by the local constabulary, who were, as you would of course expect, parking cars. I think they parked ours back in Philadelphia so it didn't have to sit amongst the Jaguars and BMW's . The party was set up on "the grounds". I remember the menu being comprised of hor'devours and not many of them. However, the booze flowed freely. After a bit, my co-workers and I needed the restroom. We actually thought this would be our chance to get inside the house. Silly us. When we got to the front door we discovered that there were 2 bathrooms, 2, just inside the entryway. One on each side. Outside each bathroom door there was stationed a "maid". These maids looked like linebackers and they did not admit to speaking English. They were however clear on one point. No one got past the foyer, through the french doors which if they were open would have given access to the fountain. Yes, an actual working water spouting fountain, in-the-house. In our state of blissful inebriation we thought we could bluff our way through, Again,silly us. However, while we were thusly engaged we spied two of the bride's sisters tip-toeing past the fountain on the other side of the doors. They held their shoes in one hand and used their other hand to form the international sign of SHHHH while imploring us with their eyes to not let the "maids" turn around and see them. We happily made idiots out of ourselves until the bridesmaids were in the clear. Later they reported back to tell us they had made it all the way up to the second floor and that the rich people were slobs. I knew those weren't really maids by the door.
I bet you are wondering what this story has to do with names. The next day myself and another party guest were at work retelling the nights events to people who had no attended. My fellow tale teller was stuck on one theme. The groom's mother's name was "Angel". She kept harping on it, and asking me what kind of a name that was for a grown woman. I finally pointed out that I felt unable to comment as my name is Star. "Well yeah," she said. "But that's your name." Odd is obviously in the eye of the beholder
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One more story.
A few years ago my daughter Star and I visited a local museum, the Rosenbach. I know it wasn't Star's first visit, as it was mine, but I think it was the first time she took the tour. As it happened on this particular day, when the tour stepped of we were the only two there. So we had the undivided attention of the docent. A lovely man. A very elderly man. He reminded me of the men who sell poppys for veteran's day. He led us into a room where photos of authors and presidents and other really cool people who had a part in the history of the museum were displayed. He began his presentation by introducing himself. Loudly. Loudly as if his hearing was not as sharp as it once was. I was immediately gripped with the fear that the next step was going to be for us to introduce ourselves. This was not going to go well. Two of us, with the same , unusual name, and a man who can't hear right to begin with. At worst we were going to confuse the poor man with two people who have the same name, which he was going to hear as Doris. At best, we were going to sound like an episode of "I've Got a Secret".
"My name is Star Foster"
"My name is Star Foster"
Luckily, he never asked and Star and I were treated to his delightful and informative presentation, followed by a self guided tour of the museum, which we greatly enjoyed. As soon as we were back outside, I turned to her and said:
"If that man had asked our names, and you went first, I was going to lie about mine."
She laughed and said. "If you went first I was going to lie about mine".
You know what they say, like mother, like daughter.
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And on that note I wish a Happy Mother's Day to all the moms.

T.H.E.C.P.

2009-04-30T06:51:00.000-07:00

The CP and I like to note when we have things in common. Like the fact that we both like vanilla icing. Or if we are both wearing blue shirts. Stuff like that. Just the other day I discovered something new that we have in common, although I haven't pointed it out to him yet.

A newly made friend asked the CP his name. He replied "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P." He said his name and then immediately spelled it. All in one breath. I thought he was showing off a little bit. The new playmate was female, and slightly older to boot,and the CP does like to impress the ladies. The next day I accompanied him to the birthday party of a preschool friend. It was held at one of those fun centers where the kids can play games and eat pizza and you don't have to clean up anything. Genius! The center also supplied a party co-ordinator. She peered down at the CP from over her clipboard. "Name ?" she queried. He replied. "The CP. -T.H.E.C.P". He wasn't showing off. He was just trying to forestall the inevitable. It is, a case of preemptive spelling. I know it well. I do it all the time.

The CP's name is really only four letters long. Four simple letters. Just like mine. Something else we have in common. To me it seems simple enough. But I have had many many people ask me to repeat it when they hear it,or ask how to pronounce it if they see it written. And , you don't hear it much on this side of the Atlantic. He's no Tom Dick or Harry. Or Jason , Justin or Jeremy. About a year ago we took the CP to a show. The people behind us had a small child with the same name. As they settled into their seats, they used the name a few times. "CP sit down, CP don't touch that" and the like. Our CP, not knowing anyone else with his name kept answering. Finally frustrated by being corrected and directed by perfect strangers, he asked them why they kept calling him, It turned out that while the names sound the same, the other parents were using an Anglecized spelling, while the CP's parents kept the orinial Welsh.

I spell my first name often. Especially over the phone. Otherwise, I risk being called Doris. Yes , Doris. how one gets Doris from Star, I never will know. I have to confess that I have once or twice just gone with Doris because it was just easier. Years ago I was at the dentist, having my teeth cleaned, and chatting, as much as one can, with the hygienest. The new receptionist came in and said that Star was on the phone and needed to change her appointment. The hygienist pointed out that I was right there. The receptionist thought perhaps it was another Star. The hygienist said she was sure I as the only patient named Star who came to that office. The receptionist went back to the phone. When she returned she said it was her mistake. It was Doris who had to change her appointment. Even in reverse my name gets misconstrued.

And so we spell T.H.E.C.P. & me (S.T.A.R)

I

Casting Call

2009-04-24T04:12:00.000-07:00

The CP is a big fan of let's pretend. He always gets to assign the roles. Such as "Ill be the Policeman, and you be the Police woman Mom Mom". Or "I'll be Spiderman and you be Spider Girl". Yes, I am always assigned the girl part. Even if there is not a natural female counterpart to his male role, it is achieved by adding the word "girl" to the name. Such as Hulk-girl. We are working on that.
The other day he was here, presumably to help Sarcasdad put together his new BBQ grill. He brought along his own tool box. The actual helping lasted about 5 minutes. Then the CP busied himself with the large cardboard box and Styrofoam shipping pieces that had contained the grill. I sat on the front steps watching him play with his plastic tools and his new building materials. After a bit he decided to include me in the fun.
"Mrs Claus" he said. "I have some good news and some bad news"
See, still the female part for me. Don't you wonder what was going on in that cute little head prior to that statement? I do.