Your kids are mentally challenged...

This memo I just received from the 13-year-old's teacher had me laughing out loud, so it's blog worthy. Here goes. Pay special attention to the part in red. llol.

To: All 8th Graders and 8th Grade Parents

From: witty Head of the Middle school and erudite librarian (these names have been changed :)

Re: 8th Grade Thanksgiving Baking Tradition


On Tuesday, November 24, the 8th Grade will bake loaves of quick bread during their first two periods. The breads will be donated to a local charity.

The class has been divided into teams of two (or three, in one case) students. Each team will need to bring in the following:

two 10”-12” mixing bowls
one set of measuring spoons
one fork
one set of dry measuring cups
one liquid measuring cup
one rubber spatula
one mixing spoon

Bitter experience has taught us that, despite our 8th Graders being bright, visually perceptive, and generally knowledgeable about their own possessions, they have little to no recall when it comes to which cooking utensils they took out of their bags less than an hour before. So please LABEL the items you send with your child in such a way that the label will remain evident after washing.

I have also enclosed the baking pairs list so that your child can work out with his or her partner who is bringing what.

We will buy all the ingredients; all you have to do is send in the requested equipment.

Thanks in advance for your support.

Only evil people write checks at the grocery store

Early this morning after I drop kicked the boys sadly said goodbye to the boys as I dropped them off at school, I went to my local Safeway for, literally, one item. Our house is on the market (anyone want a house?), we had a walk-through scheduled for late this morning, and I like to have fresh flowers in a vase on the kitchen island for walk-throughs.

I procured a lovely bouquet of alstroemeria, Gerber daisies and Asters and proceeded to the checkout line.

I like my local Safeway because it is a mile from my house and I know its contents and their whereabouts like the back of my hand. In and out.

What I don't like about Safeway is that there are never enough cashiers, but I give them a break and don't complain (much) because I know the economy is tough and they need to pinch pennies.

I mosied up to the only line open (I could mosy because there wasn't any competition approaching the checkout area at the same time as I was), an express lane for 15 items or fewer which contained a woman with a plethora of items, I'd estimate 50. (See the link in that last marathon sentence to learn grocery store line strategy).

I know what you're thinking... but no. I wasn't irritated at the lady, because it wasn't her fault. Safeway only had that one lane open at that early hour, and I have been that lady with the 50 items needing to check out when the only lane open is an express lane. I felt her pain, I did.

I employed a different strategy. I conspicuously kept checking all around me within view of the cashier and the store manager. Getting the hint, the cashier said: "is there someone behind you?" to which I truthfully responded: "uh huh." My strategy worked; she got on the intercom and called for help with the cashier lanes. I'm brilliant, I know.

Well, Linda from produce took her sweet time getting to the lane which she was to open, and I played the game we all play when relief is coming to the cashier lanes: I tried to figure out which was it was going to be so I could dart over there, what with my being next in line. In the meantime, a harried looking woman took her spot at the end of our line, now 5 people long.

You can see the foreshadowing, can't you?

When Linda took her spot in aisle 5 and flipped on her light, the harried looking woman, last in line, darted over to the newly opened register. I walked over and planted myself behind her and bit my bottom lip hard. If she didn't have so few items and it didn't look as if she were going to make something specific with them (I think maybe it was a blueberry cheesecake? - which I imagined would be for some housebound old woman somewhere), I would have said: "excuse me, but I was before you, ma'am," in my nicest, sweetest, most diplomatic voice possible (yes, husband, it does exist).

Like I said, I held my tongue. I am going to heaven for sure.

My lip started bleeding as this woman, when her few items had been tallied and bagged by sprightly (not) Linda, proceeded to dig into her pocketbook. She couldn't possibly have begun digging into her purse while Linda was bagging and tallying, could she have!? THAT would have made sense and been efficient, especially by someone who was in such a hurry that she had to cut in front of the entire line...

As blood started running down my chin from my lower lip and my blood pressure began to rise, she finally pulled out her checkbook. People, if you still write checks in the grocery store, know that you are living in the age of dinosaurs. They take credit cards, folks. They take debit cards. It's all electronic these days, people. Get with the millenium.

Because this woman was in such a hurry that she had rudely to cut in front of everyone, she had already written out her signature and the signatory and was just waiting for Linda to give her a total, right? NO! She hadn't even pulled the checkbook out of her 80s purse!

[Insert sound effect: a distant scream, as if from a mountaintop, starting out as a piercing, loud scream and then ever so slowly fading....]

The woman took 10 minutes to fill out the check and hand it to Linda, whom I think had finished filing her nails by now. There ensued some controversy as to the exact amount of money Linda wanted to receive as change from having written above the amount she needed to pay for her flippin' blueberry cheesecake ingredients!

Why, oh why, oh why do people cut in front of you only to be so flippin' slow?

When the evil, check-writing woman was finally gone and I had purchased my flower bouquet (in a matter of 30 seconds; I actually timed myself and my quick credit card transaction), I had blood dripping down from my lip (oh LORD I wanted to say something to her or to the cashier after she had gone) and I decided I had burned enough calories in anxiety to skip my training run today (not).

Ah. I feel better now. Thanks for listening.

Surprise! Surprise again!

It has KILLED me not to blog about such a blogworthy subject, but I finally can now.

Get this: one of my best friends and her husband both turned the big FOUR OH this fall, and they each planned a surprise party for the other. How funny is that?

The whole plan was quite convoluted; I avoided talking to her just so I didn't mess anything up.

His surprise party came first; as everyone had gathered in their home, waiting for him to arrive, she depravedly made the rounds, proclaiming for all to hear: "he hasn't even SHOWERED today. ha ha!"

We just all nodded to ourselves and thought, knowing her turn would come in a couple of weeks. "Ha. You just wait."

Sure enough, last weekend, as she thought she was coming to listen to a band, she ended up entering a room of friends and family and a canine, some of whom had traveled 500 miles to attend.

YOWZA!

That pooch? One of her surprise presents. This makes her FOURTH dog. (They also have 3 cats, 2 horses and 2 goats). Did I mentioned she's depraved? I love her anyway.

Her party fell on the same day as the husband's and my 16th anniversary, so we were grateful for the party...

There they are, the two 40-year-olds, each the surpriser and the surprisee in turn.

Things got a little crazy when the band played Sweet Home Alabama (3 times)

You can dress her up, but, well....

Happy Birthday, friends!

Nonverbal communication

Without even muttering a "woof," Sophie has made it quite clear what she thinks of being left in her crate during the day.

But she's really cute, isn't she?

I am a good mom

There are exactly 3 chocolate chip cookies left, and the TWO boys get home from school in a half hour.

I think I need to eat one of them so that they're not fighting over who gets the extra, yes? (Fractions, smactions)

God I'm a good mom...

Costumes of kids whose parents have waaaay too much time on their hands...

The boys' school hosts a cut-throat, ultra-competitive fun Halloween parade each year. Each of the grades parades around the gym exactly two times while they are judged by unbiased administrators, and the winners in each grade are awarded.... a candy bar. This event is extremely well attended by parents who want to get a jump on next year's competition see their cute little ones parade around the gym. This year's parade offered no exception, perfectly exemplifying that some kids' parents have just way too much time on their hands.

Take a look...



Ya can't buy that in a store, can you?

Look - an entire Peter Pan cast + boat

check out the spookey homemade haunted houses

and the parrot....

It's a Maryland crab theme...complete with a mallet and Old Bay seasoning

For this one I took a video - this is a "costume" of the poor teacher who patrols traffic in the morning as parents are dropping their kids off at school and again in the afternoon when parents return to pick up their kids. Cell phones are strictly prohibited....

And then there are my parental-creativity-deprived kids...

(Obama)

and... um.... ?

These 2 just cracked me up....

that's a boy in those red high-heeled boots.

Happy Halloween, all! ;)

Tardiness and Bleachers

Today I have, up for discussion, two completely unrelated items. Let's begin.

1. I don't know why it's taken me 22 years to figure this out (current age - 16 = # of years driving), but I'm a genius. Folks, ever been in your car on the way to a destination, and you're late? When you're late, you hit EVERY RED LIGHT, n'est-ce pas? Of course this has happened to you!

Now... same setting. In your car. But not late. Wanting to reply to an email on your iPhone or Blackberry or need some lipstick at the next red light. Can't get a red light to save your life, can you?

Duh... what a simple solution! The next time you're running late in your car and getting stopped frequently at red lights, simply start fumbling through your purse for a tube of lipstick to apply or start typing a reply to an email or text message during the red light. voila! No more red light. God I'm smart. Problem solved.

2. Yesterday I went to the 13-year-old's final soccer game (which they won, making their record for the year 8-0!). The game was an away game, which meant I had to schlep across town 45 minutes to an unfamiliar school's campus. I've brought Sophie to all of the home and away soccer games, because (a) generally there is an abundance of open space and grass at suburban middle school soccer fields (b) it's good for her to be social - she's extremely friendly and all the kids love her and (c) if I leave her home she eats the house. yeah. chews on the moulding. Not a good thing when one is trying to sell one's house, or really at any other time. Makes for a grumpy husband, to say the least. We now leave her in her crate if we can't take her with us during the day, and I hate to think of her cooped up for hours in a crate.

Anyway, when I arrived at the away game middle school, I noticed a distinct dearth of open space and greenery. This school had really impressive, high-rising metal bleachers towering over the soccer field instead. Sophie has no problem with stairs, so I toted her along and sat down with her in the bleachers among my fellow soccer moms and dads (of whom there was an increased presence because of its having been the last game).

Now - the above picture is not Sophie, which is fairly obvious because the owner of the pictured dog had the common sense to have the dog on a leash, while Sophie's mom does not, often.

Like the perfect dog she is (except for eating the house), Sophie snoozed on the floor of the bleachers next to me almost the entire game. She rose once to greet the husband when he arrived, then plopped back down. She did rearrange herself periodically, which prompted me to remove her leash to make it easier for her.

In the last 10 minutes or so of the game, she stood up and just casually began walking laterally down the aisle a bit. I got up to guide her back toward me but couldn't really figure out how to turn her around without (a) picking her up and turning her around (b) leading her all the way up to the top of the bleachers and back down or (c) leading her down one step to turn around and then ostensibly back up in the other direction.

I chose C.

Can you hear the loud buzzer?

As I tried to lead her down one step, she slipped, thereby causing her claws to scrape loudly against the metal bleachers, thus freaking her out completely. She went into full panic mode, scrambling on the metal bleachers, her claws deafeningly loud against the bleachers, which only made matters worse. She wanted OFF of the bleachers (from 3/4 of the way up to the top) and she wanted off NOW. I tried to contain her, but a fully panicked, full grown German Shepherd determined to leave the immediate vicinity is not easy to contain. I grabbed her, picked her up and held her as tightly as I could against my body on the bleachers as best as I could. She was violently, visibly shaking from head to toe in fear of the evil bleachers.

"Oh my gosh," the folks in the crowd (90% of whom I knew well) observed, "look at the dog shaking! "

"What a scaredy German Shepherd."

"Poor thing."

The husband, noticing the commotion, asked as I tried desperately to keep her from bolting, while half perched on a bleacher stair, teetering back and forth with her weight: "hey - do you want me to come get her?"

well, yeah.

The knight in shining armor swooped down, picked up the frenzied, hysterical, 65-pound German Shepherd, and carried her to the safety of the flat cement above. She was exhausted. She lay down immediately and cowered in the comfort of the flat non-metal land. I was horribly embarrassed.

When all had settled down and the focus had returned to the soccer game, one of my friends chided: "hey - nice hearts," which referred to my underwear which, unbeknownst to me at the time, so tactfully stuck out of my low-rise jeans while I was holding the horrified dog.

I had to wear the underwear with the hearts.

Just to preserve her canine dignity, here she is captured on video being quite ferocious. I think there's a cat passing by in the front yard or something...

Thanks.... wait a minute...

I just received this email from one of the Indonesian customers with whom I met at the Frankfurt Book Fair in Germany recently:

"Dear funnyrunner,

Thank you for your email of 23rd October 2009 regarding the result of the meeting with you during last Frankfurt Book Fair. It is always nice to see you once a year..."

I guess they can't take much more of me...

Boys will be, well... boys

The high school applications process continues, folks.

Last weekend, the husband, the 2 boys and I schlepped to 3 high school Open Houses (one after the other after the other), dog and pony shows wherein one is ushered around the high school campus and filled with information from its administrators, student guides, and parent volunteers about all things good about the school .

I think I was more tired at the end of the day than I was after a marathon.

At one particular Catholic school, the student guide led us into the school's beautiful, college-esqe library, where we were enthusiastically greeted by two parent volunteers - moms of current students. While our sophomore student guide proceeded with my son, the husband and I got waylaid into a conversation with these two moms about laptops in the library.

"They don't allow the students to use laptops in the library during free time," one mom explained.

The other mom chimed in: "Yeah. You know... they're adolescent boys. You just don't know what they'll be up to on the internet."

The husband and I nodded, thanked the parent volunteers, and walked a few steps from the two women. When we were far enough away, we muttered in stereo without even a glance toward each other: "porn."

I DID IT !!!!

I did it I did it I did it I did it!!!!

I did it, y'all!!!

I qualifed for the Boston marathon! My time was 3:41 (previous personal best was 3:50) and I needed a 3:45!!!

WAHOO!!!

A day and a half after flying home from a business trip to Germany, on a morning which was rainy, windy, and cold, I qualified!

If you need to get a hold of me I shall be on cloud 9 for awhile.

Big thanks to the husband who, notwithstanding his personal loathing of running in general and aversion to being outside on cold, rainy days, he met me at mile 23 and ran with me to the finish. (awwwww). Thanks to my brother and sister in law, too, who diverted their normal travel plans to come stand in the rain and cheer me on through miles 3 and 13. Thanks to the 13-year-old who could have stayed home with his grandparents but came to watch his mom. sniff sniff.

funny blog today, huh? more tomorrow on the funny parts of the marathon....