Emma and Shannon were playing with Stackers (which, if you aren’t in the know, are cups you stack into patterns and then collapse them back down as fast as possible) sitting on the floor the other day, when Bart the Bird just climbs down off his perch, walks across the room, picks up a cup and struts off, looking so very proud of himself.   And of course the girls started screaming at the top of their lungs “Bart’s stealing our stackers, Bart’s stealing our stackers!”

He looked so sad when I took it away, I almost gave it back to him.

I am so mad!  Somebody stole one of my Flamingos out of my front yard.  And, while I understand that it isn’t that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, they made me smile everytime I looked out of the front window or pulled into the driveway.  And because they were actual Don Featherstone Flamingos (which are no longer made) it would cost me nearly $100.00 to replace them.    Well, maybe they’ll take it on a cross country trip and send me photos (like that garden gnome)……

Alrighty, found them on E-Bay for alot cheaper (still can't afford to replace them).  And I'm still mad!

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton are retired, and Mrs. Fenton insists her husband go with her to Wal-Mart. He gets so bored with all the shopping trips.  He prefers to get in and get out, but Mrs. Fenton loves to browse.  One day Mrs. Fenton gets this letter from Wal-Mart:

Dear Mrs. Fenton,

Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may ban both of you from our stores. We have documented all incidents on our video surveillance equipment. All complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below.

Things Mr. Bill Fenton has done while his spouse was shopping in Wal-Mart:

      ·         June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.

·         July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in House wares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

·         July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the ladies rest rooms.

·         July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official tone, 'Code 3' in housewares... and watched what happened.

·         August 4: Went to the Service Desk and asked to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.

·         September 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

·         September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.

·         September 23: When a clerk asks if they can help him, he begins to cry and asks, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' 

·         October 4: Looked right into the security camera; used it as a mirror, and picked his nose.

·         November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, asked the clerk if he knows where the antidepressants are.

·         December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously loudly humming the "Mission Impossible " theme.

·         December 6: In the auto department, practiced his "Madonna look" using different size funnels.

·         December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"

·         December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumes the fetal position and screams "NO! NO!  It's those voices again!!!!"

And last, but not least  

• December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!"

We have a new thing we do at our house.  We try at least one new recipe each week.  So, far, it’s been going really well.  We’ve had 8 recipes in a row that are keepers.  Which is nothing short of a miracle, because if Shannon likes it, Emma hates it, and if Emma loves it, Shannon claims it will make her throw up. 

My brother is a big fan of Spam, so I made Spam for dinner last night.  Don’t laugh.  I have never had Spam before and apparently am one of the few left on the planet who hasn’t, so I decided to give it a try.  In my cookbook (the one I did for work, which by the way, still selling if you’re interested!) there is a recipe for Pineapple Spam Loaf, which the woman who submitted it claims is very yummy.  Upon opening, I was a little afraid, it looked kind of scary and smelled like dog food.  But, I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.  It’s wasn’t bad.  I still don’t understand why they have restaurants dedicated to Spam in Hawaii and don’t know if I’ll be planning any trips to the Spam Museum in Minnesota, but, the girls loved it, so I’m sure I will be fixing it again.

We have a new thing we do at our house.  We try at least one new recipe each week.  So, far, it’s been going really well.  We’ve had 8 recipes in a row that are keepers.  Which is nothing short of a miracle, because if Shannon likes it, Emma hates it, and if Emma loves it, Shannon claims it will make her throw up. 

My brother is a big fan of Spam, so I made Spam for dinner last night.  Don’t laugh.  I have never had Spam before and apparently am one of the few left on the planet who hasn’t, so I decided to give it a try.  In my cookbook (the one I did for work, which by the way, still selling if you’re interested!) there is a recipe for Pineapple Spam Loaf, which the woman who submitted it claims is very yummy.  Upon opening, I was a little afraid, it looked kind of scary and smelled like dog food.  But, I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.  It’s wasn’t bad.  I still don’t understand why they have restaurants dedicated to Spam in Hawaii and don’t know if I’ll be planning any trips to the Spam Museum in Minnesota, but, the girls loved it, so I’m sure I will be fixing it again.

This is how  reliant on automation I am.  I went shopping and as I was walking out of the store I didn’t notice that the doors were not automatic and, yep, you guessed it, walked right into them.  Left a big, beautiful nose print on the glass door.  And you know what?  There’s no graceful recovery from that.  You can’t very well say, “I meant to do that”.  So I just held my head up high and pretended it never happened which didn’t work because then I burst out laughing. 

Oh well.  It's not like I'm all that dignified anyway.

Jean asked me for an update on some things, so here goes:

My brother just started back up with his unicycling the other day, frightening small children with his clothing choices.  I’m sorry, no one should be able to leave the house looking that way.  He was wearing black and fluorescent green bike shorts with a pleated shiny dayglow orange shirt.  We could have all gone blind.

Bart is still his annoying self.  One of his new preoccupations seems to be grooming my hair.  Which I suppose is nice, although it does seem to knot it up a bit.  He also seems fascinated with Emma.  I can’t tell whether he likes her or wants to bite her, but he does watch her intently.  Kind of like he just can’t figure her out (which would pretty much put him in the same boat as the rest of us).

He did try to come to work with me this morning.  When I said goodbye, he flew up onto my shoulder and wouldn’t leave.  So I’m jumping up and down trying to get him to fly off.  Eventually he got tired and then I was able to put him back on his perch.  But I’m sure anyone looking through the window wondered how that little bird was managing to lift me off the ground.

Well, the girls are with their dad this weekend, so I’m going to give myself a pedicure, watch PG13 and R rated movies, read a novel and eat foods they hate!

Everyone have a great weekend!

So get this:  I’m driving to work this morning (only a block from my house) and what runs out in front of me?  A red fox!  Fortunately, I have really good brakes, so I didn’t hit him.  But he was so cute with his big, fluffy tail!  He looked just like the cartoon fox in Mary Poppins (you know, the fox hunt scene after they jump into the sidewalk).  And if you haven’t seen it or don’t remember, I highly recommend renting it.  It’s worth it just to see Dick Van Dyke stretch his pants and dance with the penguins.

And I swear, I don’t live in the middle of nowhere!!!

No, if I can just find the bald eagles they say are living around here…..

The girls were in the St. Patrick’s Day parade last weekend (and no, I don’t know why they do it a week early – maybe to free people up to be drunken idiots in the city the next weekend?).  They were with different groups, one near the front of the parade and one near the end.  And I was supposed to walk with both.  Hmmm.  Really have to figure out how to split in half.  But I made arrangements with Shannon’s scout leaders (who are like Stepford moms, it’s kind of freaky, but they are really nice) to just meet up with them at the end.  Shannon has been so sick, they put her in a wagon for part of it, she was just too tired to walk the whole thing.  And of course, big shock, Emma made it to the highest point on her float.  She looked like prom queen.  It was a lot of fun.

Then Shannon asked, “What are we?”  And I said, “Well, we’re American”.  And she said, “But are we Irish?” And I responded, “Yes, a little” and then she wanted to know what else we were.  So I explained that I am Irish, German, Scottish and Dutch (although my Dad generally denied the Dutch part and embrace only his Scottish background), and their father is Scandinavian and Irish, and that would make them true Americans, mutts if you will.  We’re not really sure about their father’s heritage; his father wasn’t around when he was growing up.  And he never really had any interest in finding out.  Which is strange to me.  The link to the past and those who have proceeded me, while intangible, is very real for me.  I don’t know why that connection is so important to me, but it is.  Has genetic history really helped to shaped me into who I am?  I have no idea.

And then I have this question:

Why is St. Patrick’s Day so special?  I know the story about the rats, and while that is pretty cool, why do we celebrate it in the U.S.?  Is it just because we want an excuse to dress up, drink green beer and act like fools?  And if so, why only on St. Patrick’s Day?  Why don’t we celebrate famous people from other countries?  Granted, I understand why eating Haggis on Burns night might not catch on (I’m not brave enough to eat anything cooked in a sheep’s stomach), but surely there are other celebrations to partake in. 

Just wondering.

Last week Shannon got sick with some virus.  She woke up in the middle of the night Tuesday crying that her head hurt.  Her fever was 102.7.  So I drugged her up and put her back in bed.  The next morning, same thing.  Needless to say, she didn’t go to school.  Exhausted, she finally fell asleep about 3:00 in the afternoon, and when I woke her up around 5:00, she felt really warm.  I took her temp and it was 104.6.  I tried not to freak out, just ran around, getting her more medicine (Tylenol, she still had Ibuprofen in her system), putting an ice pack on her neck and forehead.  Fever wouldn’t come down.  I should mention that neither of the girls has ever run a high fever like that before. 

Anyway, I then stripped off her pajamas and sponged her off with cool water, which elicited screams from her.  Still wouldn’t come down.  It was almost 6:00 and now I’m starting to panic (quietly, though).  So, I first call my doctor, who is of course, unavailable.  So I left a message.  Then I call a couple of friends (who of course weren’t home), then on the third try, finally reach someone.  She says, “why haven’t you taken her to the hospital?” Duh.  So I load the girls into the car, Shannon is crying cause she’s scared, I’m trying to reassure her, and then discover what she’s really afraid of is getting a strep test.  Cause it makes her choke.

We get to the hospital and don’t have to wait very long.  But it was pretty cold outside and wouldn’t you know it, it was enough to bring her fever down a little.  So then I felt like a completely overreactive parent.  But oh well.  I’d rather be safe than sorry.  And I cannot say enough about the wonderful staff at the hospital.  We had such a nice nurse.  Interesting, she was completely bald.  Like Telly Savalas bald.  I don’t know why.  But, Emma, of course, kept asking me. Then she walked out into the hall and came back in and asked in a very loud voice why the person across the hall didn’t have a hand.  Again I told her I didn’t know why.  I’m really hoping that they didn’t hear her, or if they did, they understand it’s just a child’s curiosity.

But, it turns out that Shannon has a virus, it’s going around and we can expect it to last about a week.  But as of today, Monday, she is still sick.  I had to send her to school tho, because I couldn’t miss anymore work.  My boss informed me on Friday that she was being inconvenienced GREATLY by my absence.  Gee, I feel so important.

When we finally leave the hospital (2 hours later), as we’re on our way out, a woman in the waiting room looks at Emma and says, “love those boots!”

Those damn boots….

On another note, Emma saw our raccoon walking on the fence last night, so he apparently made it through the winter ok.  I asked her if it was the one who tried to kill her and she said yes….

Well, the great skirt caper is solved!  It turns out the skirt belonged to the daycare, it was one of their “spare outfits” they keep for emergencies.  Apparently H took it and gave it to Emma and told her she could have it.  I have a feeling Emma might have a bit more culpability in this matter, but after talking to her, I just decided to drop it.

On a more sad note, I feel the need to get up on a soapbox and vent.

A boy in Washington DC died from a toothache.  A TOOTHACHE.  Because he wasn’t insured and his mother couldn’t afford to have his tooth pulled.  And they no longer had Medicare coverage, but that really didn’t matter since they couldn’t find a dentist to accept it anyway.  The infection traveled to his brain, and despite brain surgery he died.

This is inexcusable.  How can we let this happen?  In our nation's capital of all places?   We have money for a war we can't win, but not to invest in our future?  Something needs to change.