Why I'm a Sucky Friend and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Crystal

This is an open letter to Crystal at House of Sloth.   

Dear Crystal, 

I must confess. When you asked your interweb friends to send you large envelopes of glitter for your birthday, my first thought was, “Oh my gosh. Did she really just ask complete strangers to send her unknown powdery substances through the U.S. mail? Is she insane?”

You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t answer that question because well, glitter is sparkly, and as soon as I thought about it, my brain lost all train of thought. Instead, I thought, “Oh hell, yeah! I’m in! This is the woman who listens to my daily (read: hourly) rants and keeps me somewhat sane. I MUST SEND HER TRUCKLOADS OF GLITTER!”

SUNDAY 5:30 am
(four days before your birthday) 
While driving my son to work, I realized I forgot to buy you glitter. I knew I had to get it in the mail quickly, so what better time to go glitter shopping that 5:30 am on a Sunday?

SUNDAY 5:40 am 
Turnpike rest stops do not sell glitter. They do sell coffee. That's a good thing.

SUNDAY, 5:55 am
Although Seven Eleven Stores are open 24 hours, their clerks are not awake 24 hours.  They sleep behind the counter while pretending to read newspapers. They also get angry when you ask which aisle the glitter is in and they tell you “this is a convenience store”. Apparently glitter is not convenient.

Luckily, they do sell coffee.

SUNDAY, 6:05 am

Yeah, I was the only one there.

I've actually never been to Lowes Home Improvement Stores before, but well, it was open at an ungodly hour and I figured that glitter is pretty and people who are trying to improve their homes want pretty things.

I was wrong. Apparently people who want to improve their homes want gigantic pieces of wood, lawn tractors, BBQ grills, light bulbs, and white shower stalls.


I was getting tired and desperate, so I asked a nice elderly gentleman.

Me: "Where do you keep the glitter?"

Lowes Guy: "Glitter?"

Me: "Yes, sparkly glitter. But not vampire sparkly, just regular sparkly, please."

Lowes Guy: "I don't know that we have just glitter.....We do have some paint with glitter in it."

Me: "SCORE!"

Lowes Guy: "I'm sorry?"

Me: "Wait, how am I going to put the glitter paint in an envelope? If I pour it in, the paint will dry in the envelope and she won't be able to open it and it will ruin the entire birthday surprise!"

I left before he called security. The good news is that I bought this really awesome feather duster thing with a telescoping handle to reach 20ft. ceilings. I think the cashier saw right through me and knew I was really just buying it as a kick-ass cat toy.

Coffee.  From a vending machine. Desperate.

SUNDAY, 6:36 am
I found a beauty supply store that was open.

Short story: No glitter.

Long story: They had glitter make-up, bright pink and blue hair extensions with sparkly glitter, and glitter nail polish. I almost bought you glitter nail polish, but then I remembered that "you don't have a real job", so I figured you wouldn't have anywhere to wear it.

Which color would match your pajama pants?

The floor of the beauty supply store was made from these really fun sparkly, glittery floor tiles. I seriously thought about prying one up with a knife and mailing it to you, but I figured you already had a floor.

P.s. Suck that, Lowes. Glittery floor tiles = pretty home improvement. 

P.p.s.  I think the woman behind the beauty supply store counter saw my coffee mustache and lied when she told me they don't sell coffee.

SUNDAY, 6:55 am 
Dunkin. Coffee.
No glitter.

SUNDAY, 7:05 am 
I know you're not familiar with Ocean State Job Lot (OSJL). I think they don't have those stores in your state because you don't have an ocean.

See? That looks stupid.

OSJL is like a Big Lots. Close out merchandise, stuff nobody wanted, returned items, and seconds. Yes, I was desperate enough to try to buy you defective glitter. 

I tried to check every aisle, but I got sidetracked a bit, playing that game where you count to see which person in the store has the most teeth.

That's when I saw it - A BIRTHDAY CARD WITH GLITTER. It was perfect. It met three essential requirements:

1. Glitter.
2. It said "Happy Birthday".
3. All of the words on the card were spelled correctly. 

I bought the card and then had a celebratory coffee. WITH French Vanilla cream.

MONDAY, 8:50 am 
(three days before your birthday)
Reminder to self: buy stamps and get Crystal's card in the mail.

MONDAY, 3:50 pm
Walgreens sells stamps but you have to buy a whole book.  I knew I'd be using those stamps well into 2035 and who knows if the post office will still be around by then?

TUESDAY, 8:22 am
(two days before your birthday)
Reminder to self: buy ONE stamp and get Crystal's card in the mail.

TUESDAY, 10:36 pm
Reminder to self:  go to the post office first thing in the morning.

WEDNESDAY, 8:07 am
(one day before your birthday)

Why don't these assholes deliver stamps?

WEDNESDAY, 11:33 pm
I'm a sucky friend.

THURSDAY - NOW
(your birthday)

Here's your damn card.

 

Close-up of the glitter. 

Seriously, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  Thank you for being a non-sucky friend :)

The Story of My Life

I have this terrible habit of paying the amount of the gas bill to the electric company when I'm paying my bills via online banking.  It's hardly *my* fault though, right?  Both company names begin with the letter "N", so who can blame me?

The good news is that THIS month, I didn't do that.  Nope, I paid the amount of the electric bill to the gas company.

Also.....

And this is the story of my life:

Scenes from a Restaurant

While eating a family dinner at a restaurant this evening, we were frustrated by the incredibly L-O-U-D party near us.  At one point, the volume went down to a dull roar and our family was able to carry on a bit of a conversation, while shouting over the table.

THE LION TAMER:  (gesturing towards my boots)  "Your boots look Elvish.  It makes me want to watch Lord of the Rings."

THE RINGMASTER:  "But Elvis sang about blue suede shoes.  Mom's boots are black suede."

THE FLYING MONKEY:   "Why would Elvis' boots have wings?"

THE CRAZY CLOWN:  "Why are we in a restaurant talking about mom's boobs?"

And that's when the restaurant suddenly became silent.

This makes perfect sense to my family.  And no, these are not my boobs.  I stole them.  Well, that sounds weird.  I don't actually steal boobs.  I just stole the image.  But I probably shouldn't admit that.  I mean, some woman took her time to model these boobs and have these shots taken and it's pretty unfair for *me* to claim them as MY boobs.  I'm sorry boob model lady!  Is there such thing as a boob copyright violation? Huh.  I'll have to look that up.

Why my children hate me

Because we are fast approaching the one year anniversary of moving into our new home, I decided today would be a good day for me to unpack our last moving box.  I was standing in our dining room holding a new picture frame when The Crazy Clown walked into the room.

The picture frame was in my left hand, while my right hand covered my mouth and nose. Apparently a lot of dust can form within a year and my eyes were all watery and I felt like I was going to sneeze.  I was also contemplating what I could do with the picture frame.  I had remembered buying it for a specific purpose, but I couldn't remember what I had planned to do with it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that The Crazy Clown was looking at me with curiosity.  And that's when I realized that he thought my sniffles and watery eyes meant I was crying!

Because I'm a really awesome parent, I could NOT pass up this opportunity to torture my child.

Me:  "Do you remember Uncle Charlie and Aunt Katie?"  (still with my hand covering my mouth)

The Crazy Clown:  "Uh....no....."

Me:  "They died before you were born."

The Crazy Clown:  "But if they died before I....."

Me:  "It was a tragic car crash."  
(my hand still covering my mouth, I began laughing so hard that my shoulders were shaking, which of course made it look like I was sad and sobbing.)

The Crazy Clown:  "Oh my.....I'm sorry.  I don't remember them."

And that's when my dear child extended his arms and walked towards me with the most loving look on his face.  He embraced me with a tender hug and then looked toward the picture frame.....

The accident was so horrific that the paramedics couldn't even pry them from the vehicle.  We had to bury the whole car.

Let it SNOW!

Feb. 2013 Snow Storm - Boston MetroWest

9am Friday	11am Friday - snow starting
2pm Friday - a few inches	4pm Friday - approx. 4 inches
8pm Friday - at least 6 inches	9am Saturday - 28 inches - (shot taken from inside the house because we were unable to open the back door)

Other Pictures

Side porch with extra tall baby gate

Many hours later, you can only see the top of the gate.

Baby gate from the front - see snow drift patterns	Hurricaine force winds
Front porch Friday morning	Front porch Friday evening
Front porch Saturday morning	Front porch Sat. morning - blue cooler under here, with a road/street in front of the house
Saturday afternoon - snow almost at kitchen windows	While we had 4-5 ft. snow drifts in some of the parking areas, our car only had a light dusting.

The Fish that Got Away

I'm not the type of parent who micro-manages.  I know too many parents who are constantly in their childrens' faces, managing every second of their day, obsessing about their appearance, and making every decision their child needs to make.  I take more of a laid-back approach, allowing my children to make choices - sometimes the wrong ones - so they can learn and grow.

The same is true for projects.  With three children, one in his senior year, I've seen my fair share of projects.  I don't micro-manage school projects either.  I'll help with ideas, buy supplies, help with research, if asked, but I don't take over the project and the ultimate product - good or bad - is up to the child.  I can't tell you how many times I have seen other children's projects - especially for science fairs - where it is 100% obvious that the parent did most, if not all of the work.  That annoys me to no end!

So now take everything I've said above and apply it to projects that involve artwork and twist it inside out and backwards and throw it in the trash.

I LOVE ART PROJECTS.  Unfortunately my children did not inherit that gene.

A few weeks ago, The Crazy Clown brought home an art project where he had to research the history of mandalas.  He had to come up with a theme for a mandala, look at examples, plan and draw a mandala, color it, write an essay about it, and present it to the class.

As soon as I saw the paperwork, I immediately got out my mandala drawing book because I have one and I am a geek like that.  Long story short:

Instead of "helping" my child, I became a complete control freak, monster parent who obsessed over the project and did the ENTIRE thing. (He chose the fish/ocean theme). 

The Crazy Clown: "Wow, Mom.  That is freaking awesome!
It's so awesome that if I turn it in, I will definitely get a F.
  My teacher knows I could never do anything like that!"

So yeah.  NO restraint when it comes to art projects.

The Crazy Clown ended up creating his own mandala.  He traced a dinner plate for the outside circle and traced a coffee mug for the inner circle.  The mug handle made the circle warped, but apparently that was ok with him.  He used a crappy blue Crayola marker to color some water and used an orange marker to make dots to represent fish.  I pretty much kicked his ass in mandala drawing.

Since you're begging, I'll post one more picture of my beautiful artwork, but then I have to go get started on the clay pot for the Ancient Islamic Artwork project.  It's due on Friday and I'm running out of time!

Can you get herpes at the grocery store?

This is the white board I keep on the side of the fridge.  When someone in our family needs something, they write it on the board.

Score: paper towels: 3, jelly: 3, glass cleaner: 2, herpes: 1