I absolutely LOVE this commercial. Maybe it’s because this is the way I feel. I’d love to chuck a tissue box at a few whiners!
While I was away in the land of Disney, Kelli posted a couple of blogs in my stead and one really hit home. She talked about her daughter’s campaign for a new pet. I’ve got a lot of that going on her at the Bright Compound, too.
While we were in Disneyland, we visited Santa. He was there with his reindeer. I had no idea reindeer were as fuzzy as they are. I was expecting a deer-like pelt, but no. Their antlers are even fuzzy. It makes an animal lover’s palm itch to pet them, however Disney did not approve.
There was also an enormous white turkey living at Santa’s homestead. I know, weird right? But then I saw a plaque. It stated that particular tom was the lucky turkey pardoned by Barak Obama this year. Apparently after the pardoning, he was loaded on “Turkey 1″ and flown to live out the remainder of his existence at the “Happiest Place on Earth”. Quite the life, huh?
Back to the story. We waited in line to see Santa because, as My Honey so succinctly put it, it would give us a free pass from the mall one. Also, I suspected this Santa would be an awesome Santa. Disney would only have the best, right?
When we got to the front of the line, I leaned in to hear what Sassy and the Bandit would ask for. You can find out a lot of important information by eavesdropping on private conversations with Santa. Sassy didn’t say anything I wasn’t already privy to, so there were no surprises there. The Bandit however. Oh dear God.
“And what do you want little boy?” Santa leaned over his jolly belly and listened intently to my son.
He listed several things I already knew about. All was well in the universe. Then he dropped the bomb. “And I really, really want a golden retriever puppy.”
What! I leaned in because I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.
“A puppy,” Santa repeated and nodded. He looked directly into my panic stricken face and damn if I couldn’t see a twinkle in his blue eyes.
I shook my head desperately and made slashing motions across my throat.
“Yeah, a golden retriever puppy. I’m gonna name him…” And there’s where I passed out.
From what My Honey tells me, Santa had the presence of mind to tell my child he would have to discuss the puppy idea with his parents, and having a puppy is a huge responsibility. Unfortunately, My Son’s interpretation of how things were summed up is quite different. He is under the impression Santa unequivocally agreed to the puppy plan. In fact, as soon as we got back to the hotel, he insisted on writing a reminder letter to Santa.
Now he talks about his new puppy constantly, almost as if this puppy already lives here and is a part of our lives. We’ve had very earnest conversations about how asking Santa for something doesn’t guarantee delivery of such item, but he is convinced the puppy will be here on Christmas morning. A golden retriever puppy specifically. I don’t know where he learned of such a breed, or how he decided it was the one for him.
Roscoe, the Idiot Dog, desperately needs a friend, it’s true, but I don’t know how this is going to end. Stay tuned and I’ll keep you informed how the Great Golden Retriever Puppy Plan of Christmas 2010 comes along.
I told you a couple of weeks ago about my love for The Wizard of Oz and how much it pleased me that Sassy is developing a love for it too. Think how excited I was when I pulled out the wad of fliers from her backpack and, once I’d sorted through them, found several about the musical the school is putting on this year: The Wizard of Oz.
First was a flier announcing the title of the play. Yippee! Maybe I’ll go this year without too much whining.
Next was a flier requesting some parental help with some of the tougher props and costumes. They need Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes. Some witches brooms with long handles. Stuff like that.
The Next flier had me gasping for breath. According to the flier, the sets for this play are very extensive and they’ve put together a budget. After all they need to recreate a Kansas farm scene and Oz, etc. They are looking for parent and business sponsors.
What is the budget you might ask for an elementary school production of the Wizard of Oz. $13,000.00. Thirteen thousand dollars. Thirteen. Thousand. Dollars.
They pointed out that much of the costs would be defrayed by the ticket sales, etc.
I have to say it again. Thirteenthousanddollars.
I think the school plays we put together when I was an elementary school student were slapped together with the money found under the faculty lounge sofa cushions and duct tape and shoestrings. We used a lot of paper mache as I recall.
Now I can’t wait to see this play. After all, the special effects will probably done by Industrial Light and Magic and I think they’re resurecting Bob Fosse to do the choreography.
So genre’s come and go, as you all know. Most recently it’s been vampires. I hold up Twilight, The Sookie Stackhouse books (or True Blood as they are known to HBO viewers) as the most recent fads. Many will tell you steampunk is making a bid for the prize right now. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of steampunk:
Works of steampunk often feature anachronistic technology or futuristic innovations as Victorians may have envisioned them; in other words, based on a Victorian perspective on fashion, culture, architectural style, art, etc. This technology may include such fictional machines as those found in the works of H. G. Wellsand Jules Verne or real technologies like the computer but developed earlier in an alternate history.
I am very intrigued by the steampunk phenomenon and if I didn’t have 97 gazillion other thoughts and story ideas running around, I’d give it a shot. As it is….. My super hero story will have to come first as soon as I get this Regency thing out of my system.
zombie stuff going on right now and am completely sold on the show, The Walking Dead, on AMC. It has a good looking hero and creepy, icky zombies. I love it. And this from the biggest, wienniest horror movie baby of all time.
I also loved Zombieland. It’s creepy and funny and shouldn’t be missed if for no other reason than the “rules”. And one of my favorite bloggers, thebloggess.com is a absolute riot with her zombie obsession.
All of this to bring you a funny cartoon. If you never guessed, I spent all 2nd and 3rd grade in the corner for talking.
Last week my mom-in-law picked Sassy and The Bandit up from school because they had a half day. She took them to Eegees. For those of you not blessed with Eegees in your town – too bad for you. Only our little town has them. And they are GLORIOUS and I’m not of a mind to share.
But that wasn’t the point.
Grandma took them to Eegees for lunch. Sassy wanted some french fries so her grandmother sent the two of them to the counter with the money and had her order them herself. I’m always looking for opportunities to push Sassy out of her little comfortable nest and this is just the sort of thing I’m always encouraging her to do.
The kids come back to the table and give their grandmother the change.
“What name did you give them for the order,” Grandma asked so she’d know when they called it for pickup.
Sassy sort of hemmed and hawed and didn’t answer so The Bandit chimed in.
“Henry,” he told her.
I realize I don’t use my children’s real names on this site, but I assure you with 100% honesty that Henry is neither of my children’s names.
“Henry? Why Henry?” Grandma was understandably perplexed.
“Grandma, you never, ever give a stranger your name,” he told her in all seriousness.
I’m really glad to know that ridiculously expensive private school is worth the money.
We are home. We’re tired, crabby, and still remarkably sore. Disneyland is exhausting. We arrived at the park at 10am on Wednesday and left at 9pm that evening. Thursday we got to the park at 7am and left at 9:30. Friday we showed up at 8am and left – absolutely dragging ass, at 10:30. A grand total of 40 out of 72 hours. Holy moley are our feet tired. Sassy and the Bandit were amazingly well behaved. They trudged along, threw not even one real temper tantrum, and were generally a joy for the three days we were there.
Then we got in the car to go home.
How did parents in covered wagons do it? They were subjected to forced togetherness for months and months, across a boring prairie with nothing to look at and no videos to watch. I’ll bet there were times the parents would have actually welcomed an Indian attack.
“Ma, tell Jed to stop touching me with his feet!”
“Well Mary won’t get over onto her side of the bench and she keeps looking at me!”
“I don’t care who touched who first! You stay on your own side and DON’T TOUCH ANYONE! DON’T LOOK AT ANYONE. I swear I’ll turn this wagon around and go back to Pennsylvania!”
Oh thank God! Here come the Apaches!
The Bandit was tall enough to ride most everything this time around which meant Splash Mountain and Thunder Mountain Railroad were on his agenda. However, he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, he told us right off the bat he didn’t like getting wet on Splash Mountain. When we took him on Thunder Mountain Railroad for the second time – a time that took some cajoling and convincing – he told me in all seriousness that he thought he’d peed a little bit. Then boy became inordinately obsessed with seat belts.
While in line for the Monorail, the most innocuous ride in the history of rides, he told me he didn’t think it was safe as there were no seat belts. I assured him it would be fine but he looked unconvinced until the end.
The weather was fantastic. I even got a sunburn but, really, that shouldn’t surprise you.
We met Buzz Lightyear, Winnie the Pooh, bounced with Tigger, Goofy, Mickey, Minnie and Pluto. The Haunted Mansion was completely redone with Jack Skellington and The Nightmare Before Christmas. You know Disney – nothing was half done. As proof of that, in case you had any doubt, Disney makes it snow after the fireworks display. I kid you not. It’s A Small World was gorgeous with the holdiay lights, and Sleeping Beauty’s castle was nothing short of astounding.
All in all, it was a wonderful vacation although just as I suspected, I am
more tired now then when I left. I’ll know for sure how my attitude has improved once I go back to work tomorrow and have to face real life.
Hi ho. Hi ho. It’s off to work we go….but we’re not happy about it.
So I had been thinking about having to blog all day. And most of last night – when I should have been gleefully asleep but was somehow unable to curb the anxiety of what to write next. But then I had an epiphany.
And my epiphany was summarily squashed by the ridiculousness of owning a computer.
I opened my computer 97 minutes ago, thinking of the entire 60 seconds it would take to get logged in to the blog and have my way with her. Ahem, let me note the time NOW, when I was able to log into the blog, at NINETY SEVEN MINUTES later.
Really??? Ever had the same experience? Here’s how it goes for me.
Wow, I have exactly ten minutes before I need to drive for an hour to pick up my daughter at school. That leaves five minutes to check in on the blog, maybe two extra minutes to check in on facebook and three minutes to fire off those emails. Here I go!
1) 1:00 pm Open the computer. It looks friendly; inviting even. It wants to email, post and blog!
2) 1:02 Oh bleep. It looks as if it UPDATED last time I shut it down. Why the hell do I let it do that???
3) 1:02 and 1/2 Oh yeah. Because it made me.
4) 1:03 Oh great. Black screen.
5) 1:07 FINALLY. My desktop. Now, I’ll just click on the Internet option and we’ll get down to…WTF? Three minutes is all I have left???? GOD I hate this thing. Oh sure adobe. Go ahead. Update. Yeah, you too flippin java. Because it’s been a whole flippin TWO DAYS since you last got a piece of me…You too Norton? Hate to be left out of a party, do ya? Well go ahead. It’s not like I had anything to do on the computer. SHEESH…
6) 1:14 Yep. Seven minutes later. I cant take it anymore… I am already late. I have to click on the internet option. MUST click. Why isn’t it doing anything? Oh, for the love of god. Let’s try this once more you beast. CLICK. CLICK CLICK. CLICKCLICKCLICK!!!!!! Great. Now it’s frozen. PERFECT!
7) 1:20 “Come on you prissy ?&$%^!!! I don’t have all day for foreplay!!!!” (ok, sorry, that was uncalled for. but you know you’ve been there…)
8) 1:22 Oh, thank god. An internet window finally opened!!!!!! With my cursor poised for attack on my favorites link, I await the hasty departure of the thinking swirl (hourglass, or whatever you have it as. I refer to it as the middle finger. I wish they would just make it look like a middle finger.) Alas, it keeps swirling.
9) 1:24 Are you KIDDING me??? Just how many internet windows do I really need open? There are 8 windows trying to open my excruciatingly annoying home page. Right click; close. Right click; close. Right click; close….
10) 1:27 CRAP!!! I need to LEAVE!!!! I am gonna be late! CTRL+ALT+DEL. Where the hell is my task manager??? Probably on some stinkin’ vacation. Look at that. Big Surprise. Frigid $%*@# is frozen again. “Are you vacationing in Alaska you freak???”
11) 1:30 Mother F&#%$%&* Bleeping BLEEP!
AHEM. Wow, it’s amazing how much better that all makes me feel. PHEW.
I have no idea what I actually intended on writing anymore. Maybe Amylynn was right. I think I need to take notes. And some Ginkgo Biloba. That helps with memory, right? Oh hell, I don’t remember…
SO I am here. I am not even close to being a natural blogger. I tried once, but I really lack for things to say.
But I promised. I seem to have plenty to say when I call Amylynn with ridiculous little stories. In her bloggy niceness, she even tells me which stories are blog material as I relate them to her. But here, I can’t even remember one of them. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe I like to whine.
I have had quite the upheaval of circumstances over the last year, but one thing remains steady. My poodle is a nightmare. Well, two things, really. My daughter is as sweet as can be. And she is on the prowl for a new pet. Somehow, in a conversation back in JULY, my husband told her that she could have a new pet when she turns 7. (In addition to the demon poodle and the angelic aquatic turtle, of course.) But at the time of the ‘promise’, she was 5. She has only recently turned 6. This alarming set of circumstances has resulted in the following daily torture:
A) We live FAR from where she goes to school. Every morning on the way, and every afternoon on the way back, she asks to talk about pets. And we have done so since AUGUST.
B) ALL pets are debated daily. Through research, we have ruled out guinea pigs (who eat their own poo), parakeets (not fond of being held), hamsters (stinky and difficult to clean up after), rabbits (waaay to much poo and maintenance), a tortoises (just for now because we need to work on our yard), a fish (because they don’t live for long), iguanas (salmonella…hello?), a pony (absolutely not), a goat (over my dead body), tarantulas (they really should be free), gerbils (apparently not as stinky as hamsters, but just as messy), parrots (noisy, messy and very long lived), ferrets (really?), a baby cow (we’re lactose intolerant), chickens (too frickin loud), another dog (unless it eats the poodle), cats (we’re allergic, thank god), a sugar glider or an owl (1)not real pets, 2) nocturnal), a blue poisoned dart frog (ummm, poison), a scorpion (she really wanted one. Ummmm, let me see….NO), a fire-bellied toad (again, toxic-ish), a veiled chameleon (doesn’t like to be held; it stresses them out…who can blame them?) and a blue-tongued skink (not a big fan of being held either).
C) We are down to our final three. 1) Bearded dragon. 2) Ball python. 3) Corn snake.
D) God help us. I just asked my husband yesterday if we could end this and buy her a pet for Christmas because…
E) I can’t take another year of discussing pets everyday for multiple hours.
But it makes her happy. And I know that as soon as I get her a snake, she will start the campaign for when she turns 8. And I know that I will give in again and not make her wait.
She is very gifted with animals after all. It is her thing.
So there is my ditty for the day. I am already nauseous at the thought of coming up with something for tomorrow.
Damn you Disney!!!
The family Bright is off to Disneyland.
Hi ho. Hi ho. It’s off to Disneyland we go.
It’s the tenth wedding anniversary for My Honey and I on Thursday. Before we were in engaged, I took him to Disneyland for three days as an audition. He had no idea it was an audition, but obviously he did fine. I was pretty sure he was the one, but I wanted to make sure I could stand him 24/7. I still think it was a good idea. Who knew what he could have been up to in his off hours? I didn’t suspect virgin sacrifices or anything, but there could have been toe nail picking or excessive flatulance I was unaware of up to that point.
I asked him to marry me several weeks after that. I bought him a ring – with a diamond in it – and carried it around in my pocket for weeks before I was brave enough to do ask. It turns out he was going to ask me at Christmas, but who has time for that? I asked in April and we were married in November.
So, my Sisters have promised to post here while I’m gone. I’m sure I’ll have lots of good stories when I get back.
I’m going to tell you a secret, dear Reader. Actually, it’s a bit of gossip, but since we’ve redubbed this site the Gossip Sheet, this little tidbit is totally appropriate.
I think Kelli is having an affair with her cover model. The guy model not the girl model, just so we’re clear.
One of the things that’s nice with working with an e-pub is you have some input in the cover. In Kelli’s situation, she was very involved. In fact, she’s the one who found the cover photograph.
Some how or other, my details get a little fuzzy right here, Kelli and Jimmy started an email correspondence a week or so ago - a flirty, silly little email correspondence. The Romance convention in NYC next year was mentioned. Someone called someone else “sweetie”. There was giggling.
Of course, I must tease. Even while Kelli is making fun of herself, I have to throw in my little jibes.
So now remember, don’t tell anyone our little secret, and I’ll keep you in the know for further developments.