Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Ollie Ollie Get Your Obits Here

Written by a sick and TWISTed friend. Not me.

Ode to a Dead Parakeet

Sweet, young Ollie
Feathers of blue
It sure would suck
To be dead like you.

You're not quite cold
And they've filled your cage
Don't cry, little Ollie
Try to be brave.

Your plumage? Not needed
Now that you're dead
A stunning hat it'll be
Atop Lisa's head.

Does your kind have a neck?
I really can't say
Stretch long in your slumber
Or you might be filleted.

Goodbye, goodbye
dear dead feathered friend
Like you this poem must
come to an end.

In the comment section Anonymous posted this but I think it should be out here. Thank you Anonymous. Love you!!

Monday, September 29, 2008

Rosh Hashanah.... Where the Wind Comes Right Behind the Rain

Okay, how stupid is that? I can't help it. It's like non religious crossing for squirrels (and other road kill). It just comes out. It needs to be said (or sung). I don't know WHY. I don't make the rules. Come on. Show me how smart you are.
So today is Rosh Hashanah, I'm thinking I'm spelling it right because there is no red underline telling me I'm an idiot (which is often the case). I will say, if ever my brother is present while I am typing he is correcting me left and right. My mother, the once college English professor is probably appalled by my overuse of commas, run on sentences and just general disregard for the English language. Hey, I could be sitting on the couch watching Jerry Springer, things could be worse. Not much worse than this economy, but let's not go there. Let's go to a happy place. Rosh Hashanah dinner with our dear friends, Lisa and Dave and their three rugrats. Who include, Ben of the Ollie fame (uh oh on Ollie but we'll revisit that later, let's just say I was like a spaz crossing myself til I was blue in the face), Adam, Lisa and Dave's oldest who is happier now, but is twelve, so I'm sorry to say, he has been voted off the island more than once and of course Ethan, Chase's other half of a brain. So Lisa cooks a lovely dinner and the kids do the prayers over some honey and apples and a miniature challah bread. It was really little. Lisa said our grocery store was anti-sematic because they didn't have full sized breads. Benny (who's 7) while singing, "Scumbag lawyers with agendas...," overheard and wanted to go have a talk with them. We dodged that bullet, poured a little more wine and threw some tuna on the grill. Lisa eats nothing with a neck. What was the point here? Oh yes, Rosh Hashanah. So Merry New Year (said like Eddie Murphy from Trading Places). It is the Jewish New Year and we celebrate them all (except for Kwanza, somehow that didn't make the cut- no offense to Kwanza celebraters, we just have enough already). Usually we celebrate with Marc's aunt and uncle but this year with friends. I told Lisa, we were just some tequila and special cookies (wink wink) shy of a normal Jewish holiday. And you know, Kirsten, I don't bake. That's the ONLY reason they're special.
So Happy New Year.
Oh, and Ollie died. Don't call Peta. It was of natural causes (um hmmm) and Chase was very sad. Make a cross, even you my Atheist friend (you know who you are) say some sort of spiritual something or other for poor Ollie. His time was short here. He was a good bird. He was loved. There is a new bird living in his cage now. I don't know his name, I don't want to get to attached. Give him a little prayer too. Or a big one. Whatever you got, Buddha, Allah, God, Jesus, the Count from Sesame Street. The Count of Monte Cristo. We don't care. Beggars can't be choosers. Peace out tonight.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Small World, Right?

So yesterday in New York I got to meet my cyberfriendmeredith. While for some reason it didn't seem remotely odd to me. I guess because I am odd. Others did think it was strange. Her boyfriend thought she might show up and I would be a guy. Her other friend was very insistent she didn't come to my house (which would have been difficult anyway cause I live like an hour and a half from here). My friend Jen wanted me to have a password. She kept txting me about an "Amy skin suit" ( a la Silence of the Lambs). It really did not ever occur to me that would be anything more than meeting this internet friend who seems a lot like me. She did do a whole blog post that was very funny about being nervous to meet me, what if I hadn't used my own picture or I thought she was a dork (not likely). I did have to leave her a comment saying it really isn't my picture up there. Just to be funny. I don't know if it was but my brother, my friend Lisa and I were quite pleased with our work. I said I was shorter and had facial hair, my brother grabbed the computer and added in that I had a third nipple but you really couldn't tell unless it was really cold and you looked hard. Wait, how old are we again?
So anyway, Saturday rolls around and I get a call from her, she had just gotten to her hotel and ran right smack into David Beckham and Posh Spice. I took that as a really good sign. I don't know of what, that's just how I am. So as it turns out we do meet in Union Square at a very public restaurant and she is as nice and normal and pretty as she seems from her blog. We drank some wine and chatted and it was really fun. My brother met us after a while and we all hung out. After a bit she had to go get ready to go to the party she had flown up here to go to. We said goodbye and off she went.
My brother and I went out to dinner. While we were there this guy he has dated starts txting him. We refer to him as Smokin' Asian guy. Well Smokin' Asian guy wanted to meet my brother out later but first he had a birthday party. Just for fun I said, "Ask him if he's going to Bill's party." Guess what? He was. In a city of eight million people my cyberfriendmeredith and Smokinasianguy are going to the same party. Just makes me want to break out in a Disney song.


Saturday, September 27, 2008

Boat Pose, Some Turkey, and I'm Not Gonna Die (Just yet)

So Lisa and I trucked our way up to New York. Flew up here 1.45 and we were parking to go into yoga. The teacher we expected wasn't there but it was a great class. So, yoga girls, slight WARNING, 3 minute song to boat pose. Don't worry though, I'll make sure I can do it before I make you. It's not easy. I liked it though. It's not just Axl anymore my friends.
Then sushi. Sushi and wine. Yum.
Oh, and on the way to my brothers apartment Lisa made me go into a tarot card reader. I remember years and years ago when my two friends Megan and Laura and I went to NYC with Megan's mom. We were like 13. For some reason her mom let us go on our own for a while. The details are all sketchy (because my memory is poor at best) but I remember her mom saying, "No eye contact!" So of course we had to make eye contact with everyone we passed. Then Megan decided she wanted to get a palm reading. It was very quick and she spent her only twenty dollar bill and said, "Just don't tell my mom." Slightly scam like. Let me say though, my reading was great. Within five minutes she told me exactly who I was, down to a t, or a tee(?) or not tea, right (?) that would be stupid. Also, rest assured friends, I won't be dying when I sky dive. She told me it will make me live longer. It will encourage my kids to take chances and not to be afraid. She said it's a good thing. I believe her. Never mind the whole place smelled like Thanksgiving dinner. It was somewhat unsettling for some reason, plus it was making me hungry again. We sat at a dining room table near a half finished red laquer kitchen. When I had to use the rest room some guy who was working there switched the handle on the door, couldn't get it to stay, then told me not to worry, he'd hold the door for me. Hmmm.... how 'bout that? I really had to go though so I said, "OK." When I came out Lisa looked at me like it was time to get the hell outta there. I had more to listen to though. So I sat, smelled their dinner, let her read my palm and decided I should probably come back today for a little more info. And don't call me narcissistic Kirsten, I'm only thinking of you, if I didn't check on my life span and things went sour (or down) who would you do yoga with? Who?

Now I am here waiting for cyberfriendmeredith to get downtown. She's here in NY, staying in the same hotel as Posh and Becks and she saw them on the way in. Fun.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Yes, I'm Kind of A Loser, But It's Cool. I Own it.

Okay, I am beyond frustrated because basically I am a computer idiot. Everyone seems to have no problem uploading all sorts of fun videos. Not me, I can't even get one in an email. I did somehow get it to my facebook page. That's right, I said it. I own it. I am a total facebook dork. It is so much fun. I think the whole point of it is supposed to be to reconnect with old friends. Which I have, it's lovely, really. Like 130 of them. It's interesting to see where people are, what they are doing. But this is not where the fun comes in. It's the people I see all the time that amuse me the most. Seriously, it's just one more way to make each other laugh. For those who aren't familiar, let me explain. First of all you have a "profile." Where most people put their best picture up there, cause come on, we're all about 20 years older than the last time we were together for any length of time. Yes, I'm old. Don't care about that either. Well, I have a friend who changes his profile picture daily for pure amusement purposes. Sometimes he is Ted Knight from Caddyshack, sometimes he's a Playboy bunny and on occasion he has been Sarah P. Also, there is a place where it says your name and you can write what you are doing. I never do this. I will txt it to certain friends to make them laugh but I don't need 134 of my old high school and college friends knowing I am straight up whack (you guys its fine though). Anyway, the same friend that changes his picture changes his "what are you doing." Sometimes John...loves all Gods children's (that's when he's a PB bunny), once he was having tea with the Underwoods (his caddyshack days) and one of my favorites was John is....sick of all the bullshit and buffoonery. You can guess who he was with that one. Aside from his antics there is this thing on your page called your "wall." People can write you messages Seriously, I have tears streaming down my face from this page because some of my friends (Rachel) are so unbelievably funny that it scares me. Plus she just doesn't care who sees it, cause all my "friends" and all her "friends" and who the hell knows who else gets to see her saying to me, "Amy, where are you. I'm sitting on the curb waiting for the bang bus to come by and pick me up. Where is it? I'm getting cold." Okay Crazy, we were told the other night that's some porn site. She's just trying to make me laugh. And she does, daily. So it's one more time suck when I should be doing something productive. Is yoga productive? Does that count?
Okay, so the whole point before I started talking about Facebook is my friend sent me the link to this video. It's stupid funny, but I laughed. Right underneath it was a place to put it on Facebook. So technical for me. I did it and then other's laughed. I tried to send it to a friend who looks down on facebook, um, I believe that's called judging. I could throw some stones, but I won't, I will just say, as many times as I tried to cut and paste the stupid thing, it won't show up. And then I tried to do it in here, cause I really had nothing to say today and I'm leaving for NYC soon and I didn't want Kirsten and Kathy to be disappointed they didn't get to hear any nonsense shit from me today. Look, now you have a whole bunch. And you know what a nerd I am. Just so you know I also read Harry Potter books. I will listen to Forever in Blue Jeans when it comes on AND sing along and ..... well...other than that I'm cool. :)
Okay, so if you have a couple extra minutes and want to laugh, go to Youtube and search BonQuiQui at Burger King. It's worth it. And (I'm talking to you Leigh Ann or Christy) you want to fill me in on how to put it up here, that's cool too.
Oh, and should you be so inclined to join Facebook you gotta be friends with John O and Rachel. Your days will take on a whole new meaning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQOXU4yQlqU .......Seriously, that's the best I could do.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

It's Like A Mine Field

I like Fall. I do, a lot. I used to be a strictly late Spring and Summer person. I hate any kind of cold weather. As I get older I do appreciate the change of the seasons more. I think Fall is fun. Schools back in, routines that I couldn't wait to end at the end of Spring, I'm now looking forward to starting again. The weather gets cooler. The air conditioner (will eventually) go off. Trees are so pretty. I love Halloween. Different set of clothes come out. Kids go pumpkin picking. Nights are cooler. Days get a little shorter, but that's okay. Soccer games are back on. The list goes on and on.
There is one thing I totally hate about Fall. It's gonna sound a little crazy (I'm not sure if it's gonna be the cool kind). Now, I don't know if this happens everywhere, but around here it seems the squirrels have a death wish. I'm not even kidding. Marc calls them the kamikaze squirrels. There is not a road I drive down that doesn't have a squirrel carcass or two this time of year. I know why too, I'm smart like that. You can tell me if I'm wrong Science teacher Twist. They are just insanely storing up food for winter. Trying to hoard all the little acorns or nuts or whatever it is they seem to be gathering. I think they are on a squirrel type Easter egg hunt and they are trying to get the treats before the others get to them and get them home. Cause I see them running around all jacked up like they've injected three non fat expressos in the last ten minutes. They've always got something in their little squirrel fingers and all of the sudden BAM, out goes another one. Flattened to the road. Here's the other odd thing, we are of mixed religion here, I was brought up Presbyterian, Marc's mom is Jewish, his dad is Catholic, we are kind of mutts of the religious world, which is fine, for this post it neither here nor there except whenever I see any dead animal on the road I have the habit of making the cross sign (and I don't do it correctly either) but I have been doing it for as long as I can remember, I mean years and years. I feel so sorry for dead animals on the road, it breaks my heart. Their little animal families waiting for them and they never come home. Somehow, years ago, I guess I thought I was giving them some sort of religious ceremony. And I am nothing if not a creature of habit. Now my kids have a slight tendency to do it to. So if you see a silver car full of fair haired, loudly singing people racing by and making crazy hand signals you will know, my friends, there is dead animal somewhere.
After the past couple posts I have an idea. Kathy, maybe, if you didn't mind, could you clean them up around here and just bring them in to Mr. T. Science fame, you said he liked that kind of stuff. Just if you have time......... :)

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Setting the Record Straight

My last post hurt someone's feelings. Not what I wrote, but some of the comments. I want to be clear. In no way did I (or the comments) mean in any way that teachers aren't like the most awesome people ever. Seriously, I bow down to you teachers. It is not in my genetic make up to hang out with 26 children all day long and hope for them to learn something. I really don't know how you do it. That is why I am not a teacher of children.
That being said, like any profession, there are the regular ones, the best ones, and the ones you just pray quit. Here in lies my problem. Those in which you wish would quit, how is it that they get to stay being teachers? I'm going to tell you a story, sit back, relax, I've got nothing to do but drink my wine and tell you about two teachers. In all honesty there are a million other things I should be doing but my beds really comfy and I think my laptop missed me today. And I care. Anyway, so on the one hand we have Saige's fifth grade teacher. He is the one all the kids pray for the whole time they are in the school. They are sitting, waiting, wishin' ( you believe in superstion) that when their time comes they will get him. He's a legend. He's fun and fair and understanding and he cares so much about the kids it's incredible. At back to school night after hearing him talk I was ready to go back to fifth grade. He loves his job and I have the greatest respect for him.
Of course not everyone gets him. There are other teachers and their classes seem happy with them too. They're fine.
And then there is the other end of the spectrum. The teacher no parent wants their child to get. The teacher who's reputation has been bad for years, who has been passed around from school to school but for some reason can't be fired. Can't. Be. Fired. Although, I'll just say it, they suck. Suck in the worst of ways, don't teach, kids don't learn, scream, no control. Suck with a capital S U C K. That's who Chase got in second grade. I was willing to give it a try though, I thought, "Chase is a really easy kid. He'll be fine." At first I tried to ignore all the gossip because I didn't think there was anything I could do about it. The principal at the time would not, under any circumstances change kids classes. We gave it a couple months. At the beginning of November we had had enough. His work was being marked wrong. She missed his misspelled spelling words. She didn't even look at his journal, his tests never came home. The whole thing was pathetic. Add to that Saige's room was right across the hall and she told me she could hear Chase's teacher screaming all day long. This doesn't sit well with me. I asked Chase what he did when she did that because he doesn't like screaming. "I just stare out the window and think about leaving." Oh. My. God. He's seven. I asked one of my very closest friends (Twist), who used to teach how I should handle it. She said, "You have to be his advocate Amy, no one else will." There are more stories about this teacher than I will go into but the long of the short of it is Marc and I did everything in our power to get him out of there. I had other parents in the class tell me they were just, "writing the year off." Yeah. Not me. I need him to learn something.He likes expensive dinners. He needs a profession. That will probably require being able to read and write. We wrote letters, we got a lawyer, we made a fuss. We must have looked like the biggest a-hole parents out there. I got told it wouldn't be fair to just move him. Really? Then why the hell is she a teacher? I didn't really care if it was fair, this was my kid. They asked us to give them until after Thanksgiving vacation and they would resolve it. We did. When break was over there was a brand new teacher in the room. The old one had retired. I felt a little bad, I did, but what choice did I have? Really? What would you have done?

Monday, September 22, 2008

After School Fiasco

It's all so calm at my house. Pretty much all day, even with the dogs barking at anything that moves. Then 4:05 hits and in come my kids. It's all fine until we have to do homework. Saige does her own. Always has. Rarely if ever does she require any assistance. Chase on the other hand, and I have written about this before, it's like Chinese water torture doing his homework. He just doesn't care. If I leave it up to him to do it without my help he will turn in the most pathetic work possible. Like he has no parents. Like we just let him live in the wild and scrawl a few words down here and there. The hardest days are soccer practice days because we need it to be done before we go because we won't be back until late. And the absolute worst on top of that is Science homework. Science is more like "parent" homework than "kids" homework. He can't do it without my help. We have to go on line and look things up. It's really fun. So today they come running through the door, dogs barking, them complaining about their new music teacher who apparently yells so much that she actually spits on kids. They hate going to music now, which bums me out because they loved it last year. So we sit down at the computer because they want to e mail somebody and tell them. Rachel is here so it is more fun than it really should be. We e mail the principal because truthfully I don't understand why they hire angry elementary school teachers. Save them for high school where feelings don't get hurt so much and kids aren't scared. So after that fun activity it is time for dreaded science. We get on the website and find what we need. Chase goes to get a pencil and although we have a million of them he can't seem to find one (cause he's a boy). I hear our super turbo charged pencil sharpener going and going and going. He comes over to me and hands me the pencil to write the answers for him. It's not a number two yellow pencil at all. Its my brand new eighteen dollar MAC spice lip liner sharpened down to almost nothing. And it's only 4:27.......

Pick on Someone Your Own Size

So last week we had this "incident" in another neighborhood where four older boys decided it was a good idea to pick on two younger girls and a seven year old boy. Lame. I think at least. Seriously, if this is what you have to do perhaps Mommy should find you a hobby or teach you that's just basically stupid.
This however amuses me to no end. Let me point out, they are roughly the same size and although Hannah is a few years younger than Mickey I think she held her own well. They were playing, "Do you want a piece of pita Mickey? Pyshc."

She did share in the end though.

And guess who got released?

And October 5th is sky dive day.

Friday, September 19, 2008

A Week (or more) in Review- Kinda

So here's something of a wrap up.

1. That movie with Gary Busey is actually called Drop Zone and I'm thinking Wesley Snipes was in it and some awful girl actor who I never saw again.
2. As Lula pointed out in the comments, for those who don't bother with them (that's cool, my feelings aren't hurt) there was both sky diving and surfing in Point Break, so thanks for that.
3. Apparently in Drop Zone Gary Busey's name was Ty Moncrief (according to my friend Jen) and I had a heater in my house also called Ty Moncrief (also pointed out by Jen), what are the chances of that? I unfortunately have no recollection whatsoever of said heater, but we were young, we drank a lot of vodka. I'm sure if she said it, it's true. I will say, Jen has always hated Gary Busey along with Meredith Baxter Birney and the main reason for her disgruntlement is really just their names.
4. It is a fact that we (Jen and I) could have hit it big on America's Funniest Home Videos because I talked her into taking a nose dive on top of the most disgusting pool cover that had ever lived through a bad winter and had developed it's own eco system. It was hands down one of the funniest things I have ever seen and I had it on tape until I inadvertantley recorded an episode of Wings over it. That Lowell was funny. And Roy Biggins, don't even get me started.
5. Ollie the parakeet is ALIVE and KICKING. God love him. It's crazy over there. He's alway's on the floor trying to make a break for it. Doing all sorts of wacky stunts in his little cage. I'm pulling for him.

6. Yesterday Lisa and I ate outside at one of our favorite restaurants in the town we live with a charming Englishman who lives in St. Maarten and comes to train our friend for a month every year. Our friend had to work (I'm thinking to pay for this trainer) so we got to enjoy his company and hear great stories and ate the most delicious salad and then to top off the fabulous lunch we ran into Red Mohawk Guy and Bam. Bam from MTV, the skateboarder. So of course we had to have our picture taken with him. I feel bad it was Lisa and I cause it's really Marc that has a big old man crush on Bam. We have seen him out before but never got a picture. Now Lisa and I have decided that Chase and Ethan (her son) are going to be Red Mohawk Guy and Bam for Halloween. It's gonna be awesome. Chase has rocked some killer costumes. This one's gonna be fun too. He has decided he needs to dye his blond hair brown for it and if he likes it he, "Just might want to keep it brown." Whatever. I know one thing though, I'm not taking him to Rachel's salon when Michael (bizarrely angry boss guy) is there. She would definitely get fired if my whole crew came in.

7. For all of you that were so kind and encouraging about the painting. I've got my canvas, my paints, my brushes. As soon as I have a little time, on Saturday or Sunday I am painting. I'll share, unless it sucks, then I'm gonna hide it like my picture of me and Kid Rock. Which also sucks, which is why I haven't shared it.
8. Calling today to try and see if we can sky dive Sunday. Scared. I won't tell you til it's over Mark B. Remember Mickey is yours.
9. Rachel's boss Michael is still quite an a hole and if at all possible could you (Jen) come up here from DC and open up one of those cans of Whoop Ass you keep in your cupboard. It's called for and way past time.
10. And ten, seeing as the first nine have been nothing short of stupid and I'm quite sure I probably lost half of you by now I will tell you one more slightly stoopid thing (Kirsten, don't read this) but that pink shot glass is still there in the dishwasher. Just waiting for it's pardon.Last night at back to school night while I was drifting in and out during the math explanation I pictured that little shot glass in a courtroom like George Clooney in Oceans Eleven pleading it's case to get out of the slammer. Danny Ocean got out. Pinkie's still in the clink. Doing time. Just like Gary Busey has done on more than one occasion.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

To Di(v)e or Not to Di(v)e?

I have a ton of ridiculous ideas. Really, all the time. I'm famous for them. The thing is, I can usually get at least one person to buy into it. Like, for instance a while back I talked my friend Rachel into flying across the country with me to San Francisco for two yoga classes and she doesn't even do yoga. She came though. We did have a blast, but she actually only did the class on day one, on day two she rode with me there in the cab from our hotel and then bagged out. It was fine though. I didn't have to go to California alone. I would of, but I didn't have to.Or another time I decided it would be really fun to do a flying trapeze class. It's up in NYC. So, the obvious person to do this would be my brother. I did also drag him to a yoga class (I seem to have a tendency to that to people) which he left early out of, but he did go to the trapeze class with me. The funny thing about that is that I am afraid of heights. For real. My heart starts to pound. My head starts to spin. I can't help it. At that trapeze class I was climbing up the rickety ladder thinking, "What the f$#k is wrong with me?" Seriously. Why is this necessary. I don't know. I did it though. My brother was the star of the class. I was proud of him. Show off. :)
So, there are a slew of other acts of brilliance on my part. Traveling 32 hours to basically hang out by a pool everyday. Time well spent, every second of it. And I talked Lisa into that one. Spend a week in Mexico with no electricity, for some mediocre yoga and zero tan no matter how much my Greek friend and I lied out. It was a riddle. I did read a really good book and lived with a huge lizard in our casita, and learn how to jump through with out touching the ground from a Russian guy named Ruslan, so it wasn't a complete wash. The list goes on and on. Like I said though, I can be persuasive. I can always find a taker.
So, my latest idea, it's actually one that I have been thinking about fo-eva. Is sky diving. Now, it seems odd, seeing as yes, I am afraid of heights. I kind of get motion sickness in the movie theater when they show that moving filmstrip before the movie even starts but for some reason throwing myself out of a plane seems like a fun idea. I have no interest in bungee jumping or cliff diving and I had a really bad experience para sailing one time in much t windy conditions, but yes, thousand of feet above the earth falling to possible death seems intriguing. I don't know if it's because I dream about flying so much. I do. I love that. Maybe. For years though, maybe since Point Break (which I did watch Sunday too, but I forgot til just now) it seemed like a cool idea. That and that other movie with Gary Busey (remember that guy?), I can't think of the name of that movie but it was all about sky diving (partnered with some really crappy acting) and it seemed so cool. Now that I think about it, did they sky dive in Point Break? Or only surf? Was it Gary Busey that made me think of it in the first place? And how often is really healthy to think of Gary Busey? Regardless, I want to jump out of a plane, Now! Of course Marc is humoring me. He wants to too. He actually went to go do it once and went through the training and then the weather turned and he never got back there. So he's all for it. He's not afraid of anything. Except me, at certain times of the month, right baby? So, should I do it? Seriously, I don't think it could be me and the random helper jumper guy that goes with me time's up. Seriously I think it has to be both our days for anything life threatening to happen, right? I need to call my tarot card reader. She told me I would NEVER die in a plane, she didn't say anything about if I were to willingly fling myself out of it. But how cool right? And maybe it would cure that pesky fear of heights I have. Or not.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

To Paint or Not to Paint

Many many many years ago I fancied myself somewhat of a painter. Kind of. I did major in it in college, well, Art Studio with a concentration in painting. I spent hours and hours painting and drawing while my housemates highlighted through textbooks giving me mean looks. A lot of time also was spent just staring at whatever I was working on and thinking about it. I actually set time aside now to "think" about things. I'm not even kidding. Sometimes someone will ask me of I have decided on something. Like going somewhere, to a function or something and rather irritably I will say, "I haven't had time to think about it yet." Like looking in my calender wouldn't be sufficient. I think it's another form of the art I have perfected known as procrastination. I'm going to tell you something. Something I never even paid any attention to, that is until Rachel saw me do it for like the hundredth time and finally questioned me on it. So sometimes I will leave one thing, something I just don't "feel" like putting away in the dishwasher over and over again. Right now it's a little pink plastic shot glass that I use in the morning, I'm kidding. I use it to give Rachel's daughter juice in. Hannah loves drinking out it. Hannah hasn't been here since early August. i kid you not, it's has been washed like 700 times. I don't know why. Now it's just a matter of principle, I can't take it out. Not until Rachel sees it one more time. Then, and only then will I just pick it up and put it away. I'm odd.
Back to painting, this is another thing I haven't done in a long time. I do however spent a lot of time thinking about it. Tons really. Every fall I decide this is the fall I am going to get my stuff out again and paint. Last year I even went and bought all new paints and brushes. I painted nothing. This year this whole thought process has started over again. It's stronger now though and I have the perfect thing I want to start with. I just need to get a canvas. I'm not even going to consider stretching my own cause I could waste another three years thinking about that. I need to just go and buy one. Today, maybe, we'll see......

Monday, September 15, 2008

Lost In Rachel's World

So it's been a while. I made a little detour this weekend into what can only be known as "Rachel's World." It's where everyone's happy and it's all fun. There might be ferry rides or watching a little Juno. The options are endless. Sometimes it takes a little time to recuperate from the trip. So it started out going pick her up at her work on Saturday to go to Stone Harbor to visit my friend John O (who is now in love with her, I don't think he reads this unless I make him so he probably won't see I wrote that) anyway, so I go to the Salon she works in. It's supposed to be time for her to leave. There was a lot of traffic getting there. Gotta get the show on the road. Her very angry boss is at the front desk, I don't actually know it's her boss, I think it's LaVon the snooty desk guy who answers the phone. Turns out I was wrong. They sounded the same. Well boss man is confused as to what I'm doing there. Some cockamaney Rachel story. I just want to leave. He asks me if I've ever been there before. He was a little scary. I didn't know how he wanted me to answer so I just stared at him. "Here?, You mean, right here?" as I tilt my head to the side. Appearing, I can only imagine, like a dumbass. "Can I just talk to Rachel?" I say. Oh, this infuriated him. He stormed off. Can we go now? He's so angry. He's kind of a buzz kill. After he yells at her for the apparent confusion, we are allowed to leave. So we do.
Now he's made her sad. This irritates me because Rachel makes everyone happy. You just can't be in a bad mood around her. So the boss guy had put a slight damper on things. We had to crank up the tunes and get some Starbucks and forget all about mean guy. It wasn't easy, but enough John Oszjaca (the singer, not my friend John O) can cure just about anybody.
So we get to John O's, get ready and the very short version made for blogland story of the night is, a birthday party where some guy trys to explain there is no such thing as age, just evolutions around the sun. Then he starts reciting a poem he wrote. It was.....odd. He was no Kid Rock. Wait, is he not a poet either? Anyway, from there the night went on and it ended up with me having to drop off poor Rachel at work very early Sunday morning, back to the hater (I'm still not sure how she did that) and I watched four movies yesterday because I was a wee bit tired. Wanna know what they were? Almost Famous, which I love.love, love. Did you ever see it? Okay, this is my favorite part, William (the kid) and Russell(the guitarist) go to a "Real" party in Topeka Kansas. They are sitting in the kids room and Russell is saying how "real" everything is. The kid goes, "Do you want to see me feed a rat to my snake?" "Yes!" Russell says. I love the way he says "Yes." This is such a story about nothing. The other movies of my Sunday film festival included Trading Places, Old School only to be topped off by Little Miss Sunshine. Have you seen that? You should.
Marc had my kids down at a friends overnight. On the way home he was going through NJ so guess who he picked up for me? Rachel! Yeah, she's back. I love having a playmate.
So there you have it. Got Rachel. Went to some parties. Watched a lot of movies. Rachel came back. Gym. Lunch. Here. It's all I've got. Well, not really, but I need a little time to tell the next story.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

On A Personal Note....

I just need to give a big old thank you to my yoga girls. If you (reader, friend, fellow blogger, stranger. :) ) have read anything I have written before this, you would know that, yes, in fact, I do, do and teach yoga. Much to the utter annoyance of some of my friends (you know who YOU are) I talk about it. I have to, it's what I do.
So anyway, I and my very bendy friend Kirsten took turns last spring cranking out the music and teaching how we like to teach in my yoga room formally known as the "living room." My family really had no use for a living room. It's just to many friggin' rooms to live in. So we hard wooded it, threw down some mats, hooked up the IPod and started practicing. We like the music loud and the tricks a plenty. We are not getting any younger. To combat that we like to stand on our hands, bend into two and one up ten year olds with our yoga moves. It's sad, but true. Of course, you know, we're all about the non violence (except that pesky cat that used to get in Kirsten's garden) and about not competing with one another (wink wink Kirsten) and all the other yamas and so forth. Seriously, I dig it. It's all good. But to me, some sweat, my feet touching my head and loud music is where my spiritual growth comes from. I own it. Juno that.
Off track again, so anyway, in the beginning of the summer I was in a class at another studio (one that tends to bore me) and I practiced next to someone I didn't know. At the end of class she turned to me and said, "Do you teach?" I said, "Yes, but only advanced classes and only with music, so not at any studios around here." She said, "Do you want a job?" Hmmm... Interesting thought. After hundreds upon hundreds of hours training, flying not only all over the country but sometimes outside of it. Going back and forth to NYC month after month to practice with teachers up there, to earn some money for my work? Well, maybe.... Marc would be so proud. My backer. My audience. My cheering section. Okay, why not? (Well, besides the fact it annoys Lisa if I am not at her beck and call) besides that. I think it will be fun. And I love Allison, she's awesome. She renovated this killer studio that is spinning, yoga and pilates. She is a an awesome teacher, one might say, the ying to my yang in the teaching department. I go to her classes to learn alignment she comes to mine to learn how to come from headstand into side crow.
Off point again, I'm rambling. This is the thing, her studio is not as close to where all my girls live as other studios. It's a little bit of a drive. Today, for my first class after the first week of school, you all (but Kirsten, little, sick, kids, I get it) came out. Not only did you show up, but you rocked it. I couldn't have been more proud than if I gave birth to you myself. Christina, seriously, Cirque de Soleil has nothing on you. Lisa, your king pigeon brings tears to my eyes. Sue, you totally can do it and damn't if I'll make sure of it. Kathy, you don't give yourself nearly enough credit, you are front row all the way. And Beth (who I'm quite sure doesn't read), but you're a superstar. So thank you, my wonderful friends. I appreciate it more than you know. So much in fact that next week when your banging out six minutes of push ups, I might let Axl sing something different. Maybe. We'll see, Love you.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Turning a No into a Maybe

And a maybe into a yes,

Ah, the gifts our children are handed down. Is it genetics? The age old (or one of 'em) questions. Nature vs. Nurture? The ability to push a parent into the land of "yes." You know, I remember, and my mom (if she still reads) can agree or disagree with this, but as a child I remember taking no for an answer. Maybe that's just how I remember it. I don't know. That is our truth right? The way we remember things. Not with my kids. My kids have the keen ability to work me over. I'm not even sure why they bother asking me sometimes. When they don't like the answer they push me until I say yes. I'm gonna tell you what. I'm being honest here. Nine times out of ten I do. I agree. I'm not a bickerer. I think it's the salesman gene in them (from Marc). Really, the other day Chase was talking to my friend Lisa's husband, Dr. Dave. They were talking about a car that one of Dave's colleagues had recently purchased from Marc. It is an expensive car. Chase asked Dave if he would get one. Dave said he didn't think so. Chase said, "Well how much did the Lexus cost you?" Dave gave him a number. Chase thought about it for a moment. He figured the difference in the price of the two cars. Then he said, "Well, if you have a really good month maybe you can get a GTR too." A good month? That's straight up sales talk. That didn't come from me.
Okay, back to the post at hand. Saturday night Saige and Chase sleep over at Lisa's house with their kids. We're like one big happy family right? The next day Lisa brings them home and they bring in a list that Saige and Benny had made. It is as follows:
25 Reasons Why I Should Have A Parrot!
1. I will take care of him.
2. I will train him.
3. I will always have a friend.
4. I will have company in my room so I will never disturb you at night (Clever right?)
5. He won't hurt you!
6. His name will be Ollie.
7. You will love him!
8. He won't make annoying sounds.
9. We can dress him up.
10. I will train him to be the best parrot ever.
11. Max and Ollie will get along (Max is their dog)
12. Max will get the same love as always.
13. He will be a joy to friends and company.
14. Saige will help me train him.
15. We will train him to go potty in his cage and his cage only!
16. He will make the whole family laugh!
17. He can be help to the whole family. For example if I needed you then I could send him to get you.
18. I will feed him at breakfast after school and at dinner time.
19. We can train him to know everyone's name and he will give compliments.
20. He will not give insults.
21. He will love all people and won't make anyone feel bad.
22. He will be really gentle.
23. He will be handy around the house.
24. He will be neat.
25. He will be helpful!

So they all came in. Marc and I of course egged her on. We searched on the internet. Lisa txted Dave. She got a "No." That was Sunday.

It's Monday at 8.30. Guess who's living in Benny's room now? Ollie. That's who.

The brains of the operation. A serious force to be reckoned with.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Rainy Day Co-Parenting

It was a rainy yucky day yesterday. That stresses me out a little bit. We need to know what's going on and if there is not plan then we need the sun. We want to go outside. So when it's pouring I get a little like an animal in a cage. Pacing. Doing laundry, cleaning, all sorts of craziness. Our plan was a soccer game. The first one of the season. It's pouring out. Game on. Thank every God there is that my friend Lisa's son, Ethan is on the same team as Chay. I'm sorry, but I need my wingman. When it's pouring and you're standing outside under an umbrella in the wet grass it's nice to have a friend under there with you. Especially when your friend is dressed to the nines and highly entertaining.
Do you have that friend? The ying to your yang? Where one ends the other one starts? I have a few of these. One being Lisa. I talk about her a lot. She is the Felix to my Oscar. She is friendly, I am somewhat standoffish. We teach each other things. She tells me what to make for dinner on any given night and I give her the secret to king pigeon. It's a win/win. We all have our strengths, so to speak, right?
After the game ends (which they won, btw) we still have a lot of the day to kill. Adam, Lisa's oldest and my kids need clothes to wear to a Bar Mitzvah and a funeral, respectively. We decide to take them shopping. Four boys, Saigy and us. That's fun, right? So the rest of us get our stuff done and we are waiting for Adam to get fitted for his suit. The four other kids and I sit down on the steps and kind of just stare at the store below us. Every once in a while a salesman sits down besides us and surprisingly I am really friendly. I talk. I engage. I make them laugh at our silliness. Meanwhile Lisa is piss walking by us with a little imaginary hand gun to her head, shooting it. This caused us all (excpt Adam, I'm thinking) such delight, it's hard to even verbalize. So we're sitting there and her seven year old Ben, who I could eat with a spoon leans into me and says very quickly, which is how he speaks, "Amy, Amy, Amy, don't look, don't look, that guy is staring at you." "Who?" I am intrigued. This afternoon might be looking up after all. He points to this man, who has to be on the far side of 80. I'm pretty sure his head was pointed in our direction. He wasn't "looking" at me. Then Ben announces, "Don't worry though, I was about to say (and he raises his voice very loud at this point), Hey, Amy, what time do you think MARC will be home?" Ben totally had my back. I said, "Good looking out Benny Boy. You're my man."
To top off their day we decided while we needed to pick up a few things at the grocery store we would drop them at Dairy Queen. We tossed a twenty in the back seat and said, "Don't get kicked out. We'll be back in a few minutes." They hopped out in the pouring rain and we parked and went in the store. The whole time we were in there I just knew it was taking us to long. Lisa is a shopper. I needed some Sweet and Low and a can of dog food for my two idiot dogs. She was getting gourmet pretzels, muffin tops for breakfast and an assortment of other oddball items. We pay. We go outside, I knew it. They are all out there. Carrying on like zoo animals or children that have been cooped up cause of rain all day. Chase says, "We were looking for you guys. We looked in the liquor store first." He is smarter than he portrays in school." They made us leave." Oh, poor liquor store people. They never saw that coming. Interestingly enough, we did have to make one little stop there to pick up some wine. We told our little sweet angels to stay outside with the grocery cart. The whole time we were in there Lisa kept saying, "Amy, will you control your kids for God sake?" I had to be the one to go tell them to knock it off. Once again a role play change. Sometimes we tend to morph in to the other one. This happened all day long, much to our amusement. When we finally got the wine, the groceries and oh yeah, the kids in the car we realized it was 5:00. We killed the whole rainy day.
Just like Jack Johnson sings, "Better when we're together."

Saturday, September 6, 2008

I Should Listen More

I have been given some brilliant advice in the past about what to do about my "problem" children, a.k.a. "those with fur." I just don't listen.
This is a play by play
Friday night and Marc takes Chase to his race. Saige goes with Lisa and her kids to a football game. I go out to dinner with friends.
It's a lovely dinner.
When we're getting ready to leave I check my phone. Missed calls. A txt from Saige saying, "I think I want to come home."
(Meanwhile back at home)
Marc and Chase pull up in the driveway, they had a good but trying night. There were some mechanical problems with Chase's go kart. It's been a long week for Marc. They're tired. Marc looks at Chase and says, "Don't you love to be home buddy." Chase shakes his sweet little head yes. Marc get's out of the car and starts to get a few things, Chase goes in through the garage, opens the mudroom door. Closes it. He says to Marc, "You don't even want to go in there."

So at this point, I'm looking at my phone, deciding whether to txt Saige or call Lisa and my phone rings. It's Marc with a voice of doom on. "If you walked in house right now you would have a nervous breakdown." I was so confused, it was house cleaning day. Which is one of my happy days. Everything is as close to perfect as it can be. "Why? What's wrong?" Even as I ask it I feel like just hanging up the phone. Do I really want to know? It's like when something smells bad and you say, "Hey, smell this." No one wants to smell and I didn't want to know what had happened that was going to push me over that extremely fine wire I walk on to the other side called crazy.
He said, "Lucy's done the worst thing she's ever done." Man, that can't be good. Lucy just ate a full chicken carcass the other night. A couple Saturdays ago she shredded an entire box of shredded wheat all over my kitchen, like a bomb had hit. Previous to that she has snarfed down a box of Lucky Charms and puked up green and yellow all over my freshly cleaned carpets. What now? Seriously, what else can she do? He starts to explain but it's loud and I can't hear him and Saige is calling through on the other line. I go pick up Saige. I'm on the phone with Lisa in the car crying the blues about my dogs. She offers to poison them for me. I briefly consider it. Pick up Saige. Go home.
We walk in and can see something has gone on, we're just not sure what. Although the place has been cleaned it looks like CSI was here dusting for prints. There is an odd powder in some strange places. We go upstairs and get the rundown. Apparently she had gotten a box of something along the lines of Bisquick and dragged it all through the downstairs. Then she pulled out every plastic container in the bottom cabinet and tossed those around. She and Mickey stepped in the Bisquick/powder type stuff and pranced around until it looked like it had snowed.
I was wishing she had just tossed the trash like on a normal night, back in the good old days.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Brainwashing, Yay or Nay?

I'm gonna say yay. This came to me, oh, about four years ago. I had a little distaste for the current pres and my very impressionable children must have heard me on the phone, or when people were over or crying in my sleep and picked up on it. To the point that I had them at the pool at our club and we came home and Chase's eyes were very red and Rachel said, "Chase, your eyes are so red." To which he replied very solemnly with all the wisdom of a five year old, "Yes....Bush put to much chlorine in the pool." Oh, how I laughed. Marc didn't think it was quite as funny. He told me I couldn't brainwash them. I thought, oh yes I can, they're so young and willing to learn, if not now, when?
So there were a few things I decided to go with while their brains were still pliable. Good things, be polite. Ask anyone, they are polite kids. And be kind, over everything else, be a kind person. Kind they are. It's easier to be nice to the mean kid then mean to the mean kid but do stand up for yourself. So see, good things. I also taught them at a very young age what being gay meant cause they have a gay uncle. Where's Uncle Mark's girlfriend was gonna get old quick. I also taught them it doesn't matter if you are gay or not gay, black or white, fat or skinny, young or old, happy or sad, Jewish or Catholic, rich or poor, smart or dumb, we are all people and all people have feelings and to respect them. We don't make fun of other people or take cheap shots at them at any time, you know during a speech or at a sporting event or anywhere, or try to make someone feel bad about who they are. It's to bad a lot of adults don't understand this. What a nicer world it would be.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

It's the Little Things

There are some things that make me so insanely happy that it freaks me out. It can be the littlest thing and I have such a overwhelming sense of satisfaction that it seems odd to me. A couple days ago Rachel and I were lying by the pool with some cocktails after I had taught and she had done a yoga class and a long run/walk with the dogs and the sun was shining and the music was awesome and she looked at me and says, "I am so happy right now." "Me too," I said. Between that and Meredith's post from a couple days ago I was inspired to share some little things that make me happy. In absolutely no particular order.
1. Sitting at my computer in the morning with my coffee when no one else is awake.
2. A good play list
3. Being with my friends and when they come home from "vacation" Kirsten!
4. Watching my kids do yoga "tricks"
5. A massage, a long long massage ( I'm talking to you Heather)
6. Finding new music I love
7. Santa Monica
8. A killer yoga class
9. Planning vacations
10. A funny e mail
11. Perfect fitting jeans
12. the ocean
13. Being right in the middle of a good book (and knowing the author has written more)
14. The first sip of my drink when we go out to dinner
15. Fresh mango
16. Going on vacation
17. Coming home from vacation
18. Going to NYC to see my brother Mark
19. When Marc makes me laugh (which is a lot, he's funny)
20. The first day of a new month.
21. When Kirsten makes me granola
22. When I can remember a funny joke
23. Handstands
24. The song Troublemaker by Weezer
25. My brothers : )
26. the sun
27. Running
28. Sweating
29. kids laughing
30. Monday nights watching Weeds with Marc
31. When all the laundry's done or at least the socks
32. New music
33. Pictures of my friends kids on Christmas cards
34. Sushi
35. Red wine
36. When my hair looks good
37. When my mom comes over
38. However Florida Amy (Elle Q) signs her comments
39. Walking my dogs with Marc
40. When I can turn the air off and open windows
41. The first day of summer vacation
42. The last day of summer vacation
43. Going to Turkey with Saige to visit BA (the country, not the food)
44. Sitting first class on an airplane
45. Comments :)- Especially when Chris is first, I missed him.
46. Boston Legal
47. Alternative reggae
48. Teikoku lunches with friends
49. old friends
50. New friends
51. really fresh blackberries
52. Calla lilies
53. My blackberry
54. My IPod
55. Birthday cards
56. Sitting on Lisa's back porch
57. Knowing Christina got a new phone
58. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel
59. Jami's flickr pix
60. Kathys fb notes
61. Jen and those girls
62. Tulip Tiger
63. All versions of No Woman No Cry
64. Lists
65. When Chase requests. "Sugar We're Going Down." Then sings it.
66. Watching Saige perfect scorpion
67. S & C having good days at school.
68. When I can think of what to make for dinner
69. Sue's political commentary
70. lavender
71. New make-up
72. My cyber twin Meredith and our parallel universes
73. Making Sarah laugh
74. When the girl in yoga says she drinks vodka every night and SUPER fresh blackberries
75. My bike
76. Inside jokes
77. When my friends run :)- Go Lisa
78. Nov 4 and Jan 20
79. John-O's fb picture and "What I'm Doing."
80. Beaches with service
81. Holla's
82. Concerts
83. Being on time
84. Hatchin' a plan
85. Surprising people
86. Lula and her Twilight counter
87. Freshly painted black toenails
88. Tattoos
89. My pierced nose
90. Chase's choice of mohawk then no mohawk
91. Polite children
92. The Halloween parade at school
93. Lisa and Christina a good roadtrip
94. A good month for MDS
95. Tuesdays in New Hope with Naime
96. House cleaning day
97. Sleeping all night long
98. Good dogs
99. Push ups to Patience :)
100. Today

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

What A Day

Wow, there is just so much to say today. This election is looking like some bizarre movie. The Fargo version of Election '08. Seriously, Hollywood couldn't write this nonsense, but I'm not going to say anything about that.
I'm going to tell you about my dog (the big dumb one, who's really not that dumb, just bad). Does anyone need a really super gorgeous German Shepherd? She loves women, she's good with small dogs, she hasn't bitten anyone in ages. The problem is she likes to eat people food all the time. She is like Macguyver getting it. I don't know how she does it. Lots of times it's a mystery. Marc is convinced she has one of those grabber toys that kids have. You know, with the little hand you squeeze and it pinches together and it picks up stuff. We just don't see how else she could manage it. Tonight I had one of those chickens that the grocery store people make for you. It comes in a container that snaps closed. I pushed it as far back in the corner of the counter that I could. The kids ate the side parts and the legs were for Marc. I went upstairs and got in bed. When I went down to get something I saw the empty container on the floor. The whole thing, devoured. Every bone, every morsel. Next time I'm getting one and injecting arsenic in it. Does anyone know where you get arsenic? Because seriously she is going to push me over the edge. If she's not ripping through the trash or shredding wheats all over the kitchen than she's eating Marc's dinner. So, you want her? I'll throw in Mickey if that helps.

Monday, September 1, 2008

On Another Note (no pun intended)

I haven't done this in a while. So here's some songs I'm listening to now. To run, do yoga, just listen, whatever.......
Thirteen Lyrics-Big Star
Sway LyricsBic Runga
Rocky Took A Lover Lyrics-Bell X1
The Perfect Boy (Mix 13)- The Cure
Not Going Home Lyrics-The Elected
Under The Tracks Lyrics-Creeper Lagoon
Skin And Bones Lyrics-JET
Kettles On Lyrics-The Feeling
Love You Madly Lyrics-Cake
Scarlet Begonias Lyrics-Sublime
Troublemaker Lyrics-Weezer
Corona And Lime Lyrics-Schwayze
You Can Do Better Than Me Lyrics-Death Cab for Cutie
Don't You Evah Lyrics-Spoon
I Am Over It Lyrics-the Dandy Warhols
Classics Of Love Lyrics-Common Rider
Pain Killer Lyrics-Turin Brakes
This is How She Goes- John Oszajca