I was flipping through a catalog the other day and came across a treadmill with no motor. “Set YOUR own pace” or something like that.

It got me thinking. Holy crap, what a joke! You know what MY pace is? Standing still. I don’t like bouncing around, I’m not big on sweating, and I’m not big on giving gravity a boost on it’s already substantial downward trend.

I would have to have a treadmill with a freaking motor. Those things provide incentive to keep your ass moving. Once you get started you are too afraid to hop off and even more afraid that if you turn it off you’ll go flying off the back or something.

Survival, correct me if I’m wrong, is probably the best incentive, don’t you think?

It’s like those old exercise bikes, if you got going and took your feet off the pedals you knew you had better throw in some Pilates there in the form of the splits or something because those damn pedals were going to come around and either beat the hell out of your shins, calves, or both.

I prefer sweat to extreme bruising with the obvious exception of plastic surgery.

But, hey, that’s just me.

In Other News…
You might recall a post not too long ago where I asked you to run over and tell my VERY pregnant friend, Jan, how great she looked and to load her up with tons of helpful advice?

Well, Baby Salsedo made his arrival yesterday. Considering she hasn’t posted in a week and Lord knows when she might have the time now to update her blog, I’m spilling the beans here:

Jacob Charles
Born: January 30th, 2007
11:11am
8lbs. 11oz.
21.5 inches

There were some minor complications and Jan delivered via C-section but as of noon yesterday mom and baby were doing fine!

Go give them some well-wishes, people.

NOW DAMMIT!!!!!

5:17 - woke up to infomercial with Willard Scott, realized why I had been dreaming about Perry Como and Doris Day serenading me. It was a 50’s music CD set. Had “Que Sera Sera” stuck in my head for the remainder of the day.

5:27 - Listened to Mike grumble about having a pounding headache and something about WHY can’t ANYONE put the Advil back where it belongs?

5:30 - Sheepishly crept downstairs to retrieve Advil bottle from my desk.

5:45 - Still awake humming “Que Sera Sera” and “Papa Loves Mambo”. Decide to go downstairs and complete the last file on my desk so that I can spend the rest of the “work” day screwing around with Miss Britt (not like that Avi or Joe) (and, come to think of it, that didn’t work out so well, did it, Britt?)

6am - Check email. Thrilled to find that Avi found the only slightly pervy card Hallmark has, something about a video of a nude beach but the battery in the camera dies before you can actually SEE the video. Avi rocks. He’s all about the tease. The tease and funky stick pictures.

6:15 - attempt to start file. Realize I have to turn on light because at my advanced age I am no longer able to type or function by the light of the monitor. I suck.

6:33 - take a pause from working on the file a whole 15 minutes to begin THIS post. It’s turning out quite well, no? No, I didn’t think so either.

6:36 - Take another break from “working” to see if Miss Britt has a new post (presumably one dedicated to certain people’s birthdays).

6:37 - Go back to work disappointed that Miss Britt has not posted yet.

7:22 - Take yet another break to show Ethan my birthday card from Avi. That never gets old. Approve comments on MySpace from Bug and Britt.

7:24 - Check Miss Britt’s blog *again* still no post. Return to work with disappointment intact.

7:57 - Miss Britt’s blog was updated *insert happy dance* and she did an awesome video for Avi and I on YouTube… At this point, I KNEW it would be a GREAT birthday.

8:48 - JOY!!!! SHEER, EXUBERANT, ZEALOUS JOY!!!! Watched Harry Connick Jr. on the Today show… AWESOME. We have a thing going he and I… he also played the half-time show at the SuperBowl when I turned 16!!!!!!

10:14 - Watched Mike work while I created my beautiful Valentine’s wreath for my front door.

11am - Took a hot bubble bath while chatting with my mom on the phone. Yes, a bubble bath at 11am the height of relaxed, luxury.

12pm - Came downstairs to find that my husband had decided to give me the first of my birthday presents. A bench from World Market that I had been wanting for MONTHS.

6:30pm - Got pizza for the kids and Mike took me to dinner at a local Teppanyaki / Sushi place. We ended up at a Teppanyaki table with a nice, older couple who told us funny stories about their 11 month old pommapoo (pomeranian / poodle mix) puppy.

9pm - came home to the rest of my birthday presents including various and wonderful things from World Market (candles, bath products, a VERY nice bottle of Port, etc.)

10pm - crawled into bed with the kids to watch Most Haunted. Fell asleep shortly after the show ended.

Saturday - fast forward past the lazy day spent half in bed / half on the couch.

4:20pm - Arrive at restaurant (Black Angus) for my birthday dinner 20 minutes late because Maggie took a pair of scissors to her hair.

Get seated at lovely corner booth surrounded by family and begin to down the first of two Mai Tais.

Endure crappy service from perky waitress until we are asked to move because someone else had reserved THAT table for their grandmother’s 80th birthday party. We were given free appetizers and a free round of drinks for being so “gracious” and “understanding” about moving. Let’s clarify - gracious and understanding had NOTHING to do with it, free drinks had EVERYTHING to do with it.

Upside - better service, downside - had to endure 80 year old grandmother’s birthday “gift” the worst Elvis impersonator on the planet.

Finished second Mai Tai and come to the conclusion that I was no where near copping the desired birthday buzz I was going for.

Had a lovely dinner of prime rib, lobster, and shrimp. Endured the traditional humiliation of having the servers sing Happy Birthday. Finished with Mile-High Mountain Fudge Cake that, according to its’ menu description, was supposed to come with a PITCHER of hot fudge. It did not. Ordered another drink, Colorado Bulldog, drank it… left restaurant without the desired birthday buzz and absolutely NO guilt over Ethan’s trick with the salt shaker.

Salt shaker? Said “Black Angus.” Ethan used a piece of paper and a pen to turn it into “Anus”

8pm - Came home, crawled into bed and called it a day.

(tell me that isn’t original, Avi.)

Ahhh, the saga of the Future Darwin Award Winners continues. AKA, the Cul-de-Sac Clique has a problem.

Yep, the Stepford like clique that resides in the cul-de-sac seems to have a deformity. The house in the center of the cul-de-sac (I hope I don’t have to write that AGAIN in this post) is occupied by people who:

A. Have very little to no control over their teenagers

B. Are incredibly immature

C. Are never home on the weekends and leave afore mentioned teenagers home alone

Take your pick the end result is all the same. At least twice a month they throw a raging party. Now, if they kept the party INSIDE their house or at the very least IN the backyard ONLY, I would NOT be writing this now. Unfortunately, they party in the front yard, around the cul-de-sac (dammit) up and down our street, yadda, yadda, yadda. The next morning beer cans are littering the gutters and yards (yes, other people’s YARDS). It’s ridiculous!

Last weekend we came home from dinner and the street was lined with cars, the cul-de-sac (sonofabitch) was practically filled with cars, and there were teenagers everywhere. I hate teenagers. Hate.

We had to wait for one of them to drive off from where they were BLOCKING our drive way. Then as we started to pull into our driveway another set of them in a car drove right up on our ass (practically UP our freaking tail pipe).

I went in and called the police. Oddly enough, within 10 minutes of calling all of the cars (there were at least 50 of them, no exaggeration) were gone in a freakish sort of mass exodus. Mike is convinced they have a police scanner. The typical mess was left behind when the police arrived so at least there was proof that something had gone on.

I park my car IN MY DRIVEWAY, I DECORATE for holidays… therefore I like to avoid vandalism and acts of retaliation by disgruntled neighbor hoodlum people. So like ANY normal person, I called the cops and went up to Ethan’s bedroom to snoop through the blinds. DUH!!!

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had called the cops because when the cops showed up to “investigate” the Future Darwin Award Nominees ran out to GREET them. They apparently even invited them in for coffee or something all “It’s 1957 and Daddy Knows Best is on!!!”

That’s right… let the partying neighbors with hoodlum looking teenagers skulking around at all hours SEE which NEIGHBOR it was who squealed like a stool pidgeon with a hot poker up its’ ass.

Fine by me… because they’ll never suspect the quiet family who blares really loud rock music out of their garage until VERY late on the weekends, will they?

AKA…

The Lengths to Which I Will Go (Bordering on Stalking) In Order To Make A Point

Happy Birthday, Avi on this most wonderful day. A day reserved for only the most brilliant people to enter the world.

Given your love of bacon cheeseburgers (and what burger is complete without bacon and cheese?), dislike of sunshine and vegetables, love of Veronica Mars and Seinfeld (I collect Seinfeld on DVD as well), and loyalty to GG even in the face of insurmountable stupidity, the preference we have in movies (action and comedy only, thank you) and finally, the fact that we share the same birthday, I can only reach one conclusion: we are twins seperated at birth.

My mother will be thrilled to know this.

I tried to find you an e-card that involved big boobs or porn of some sort, alas, you’ll have to deal with the card I sent you instead. Sorry.

I’ve fantasized about what a birthday celebration with the two of us might be like. But, as I mentioned before, I’m afraid that should we get together to celebrate our mutual genius we might end up looking like the Mad Hatter and the March Hare passing a sugar bowl with Miss Britt in it back and forth while complimenting each other at random.

Then again, that might be fun.

Happy Birthday Avi!!

Yesterday I got my hair cut. I like it, it’s a fun, simple bob. Shorter than the last time I had it cut. On the way home the following conversation took place:

Me: So you don’t like my hair?

Mike: I never said that! I said I LIKED your hair. I feel like you ask me questions like that to trick me into saying something stupid.

Me: No, Mike, no one needs to TRICK you into doing that.

*silence*

Mike: Your hair looks nice. It’s like Dorothy Hamill or Kate Jackson in Charlie’s Angels.

Me: *blink* *blink* *gasp* *blink* *blink*

A conversation ensued whereas I pointed out that no woman in her right mind would consider that a compliment. To which he asked where he might actually find one of those. I finally said that I would put it up on my blog and that any woman reading it would NOT find that to be a compliment. He said, “oh great, the BLOG brigade.”

To which I said nothing. I picked up my cell phone and called Miss Britt. And I sent her this picture:

She brought up three excellent points:

1. No, my hair does NOT look like Dorothy Hamill.

2. My hair is very cute.

3. My husband totally showed his age (and, in my opinion, ass).

Doesn’t really matter. I don’t think that any of his thoughts/comments were appropriate knowing that his wife’s birthday is THIS FRIDAY.

Your thoughts?

My mind tends to wander a bit these days. Floating over the complexities of life. The intricate, fragile strands that can connect us and strangle us all at the same time.

But, that’s far too deep for this blog. Actually, I’ve briefly considered dipping my toes into the deep end here but I always shy away for various reasons, mostly insecurities I suppose.

Let’s move on, shall we?

Today, I like humor and chocolate tea. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, it’s awesome and sugar-free (unless you put sugar in it, I suppose. I don’t.) Humor on the other hand has been rather hard to come by lately. I don’t have the phenomenal limerick writing ability that some people have.

While I like humor and chocolate, I’m also on the edge. I’m about to implode. I’m looking for a moment of peace and quiet to write a post. Unfortunately, there is NOTHING but obnoxious noise coming from every angle. There are the various rock songs blaring from the garage, not a CD mind you, but the 1/2 band my husband and son have formed.

The TV is blaring in the family room and even tonight the sounds of Gilmore Girls are annoying the ever-loving SHIT out of me. I love the sharp, witty banter but this season seems to keep plunging further and further into the toilet. Avi, care to disagree?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in for the past 7 seasons and I plan to see this through. But, I can’t hide the fact that I’m incredibly disappointed with the freaking storyline any longer. We’ve gone from well-written stories to soap opera hell. And, Lane looks like someone shoved a pillow up her shirt, why didn’t they look up the prosthetic person who took care of Jennifer Aniston during Friends? Hmmmm?

I’m writing this while GG is on and the chance of me getting back to the computer after VM is remote. Especially given that I plan to enjoy it in the dark, quiet of my bedroom. However, I have NO complaints with VM, none whatsoever and I’m sure that I’ll feel no different after tonight’s episode.

In short, I’m incredibly crabby, bitchy, and snappy. Furthermore, if ONE more person comes in here to ask me something STUPID… I’ll snap like a bad rubber band. So help me, I swear.

To sum up, I was wanting humor and chocolate tea. One out of two isn’t bad.

Dunno, I just thought that was a clever title for a post. It is, isn’t it?

Now I am in a position where I feel obligated to write a post that is worthy of such a title. Worse yet, I am now starting to worry that maybe someone else used this title and I am going to look like I am stealing an idea and presenting it as my own. OH THE ANXIETY!!!!!

Edited - Title was originally something completely UN-original, it has now been changed.

Pfft. Skip it.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, this month Sophie, my chinchilla, turned 4 months old.

Sophie the Chinchilla

This is her favorite perch. She loves to run back and forth across the keyboard, I think she likes the clicky noise.

She really doesn’t know a stranger and has attempted to make friends with everyone in the house including Satan Molly the cat. Molly wanted to get to know Sophie as well… but I think it was less in that friend way and more in that appetizer sort of way, if ya know what I mean.

Good news, my MIL, got a positive bill of health. She has cancer and apparently it is under control. This is cause for celebration. I’m also hoping that my husband picked up more of her genes and less of his father’s.

Unfortunately, my FIL, was diagnosed with cancer and was gone not too long after that. But, truthfully, I don’t think he was quite the:

A.) Health nut

B.) Heavy Drinker (of red wines)

C.) Resister of all things negative to your health that my MIL is.

That woman is the energizer bunny, she keeps going and going and going…
Other options for “going”

drinking (Red wines only, thank you!)
smoking (but this is not true, just something Ethan likes to tease her about.)

Ethan likes to tease Granny that she smokes marijuana.

Ethan: Granny? Are you smoking that marijuana (pronouncing it Mare UH Joo Wanna) again?

Granny: Ethan! I DO NOT smoke marijuana!

Ethan: Ookaay! (in a very disbelieving way)

Or last Thursday, Ethan walked in from school and saw Granny in the kitchen:

Ethan: Granny, I will not have you lighting up in front of Maggie!

Later that afternoon, Granny got a new cell phone:

Granny: Ok, call me on Wednesday between 6 and 7 so my phone will ring in front of my friends and I can show them that my grandson calls me.

Ethan: Ok, Granny. I’ll say, “Granny, put me on speaker phone… ok, can everyone hear me? Granny, how much marijuana did you smoke today? Granny??? Granny? Are you STONED????

It’s probably a good thing that Granny has a decent sense of humor.

Further proof of her sense of humor (actual email excerpt):

The cancer is under control again! My numbers are good (has to do with blood count) and there is NO new cancer, only what was there already in my bones and the hormone therapy is keeping it from growing.

My organs all look good and I will not be getting kidney stones, lol…

Thank God for 2 Buck Chuck, along with the finer boxed wines.

2 Buck Chuck is actually Charles Shaw wine, Trader Joe’s sells it for about $2 a bottle. It’s actually not bad wine even if the price is rather cheap. Studies have shown that people with cancer who drink red wine actually live longer than those who do not. This has made my MIL a very happy, red wine enthusiast.

Now, just think what might happen if studies showed that people who smoked pot lived longer… my MIL might go all “Dude, Where’s My Car?” on us!! :twisted:

Hope you aren’t hung over from the celebration that was National Britt Day. You aren’t, are you?

Just checking. ;)

The guys are watching something strange on television. Maggie has crashed on the couch and Kate has been in bed for quite a while.

Me? I’m trying to come up with an amusing post to make it worth you wonderful people poking your heads into this very strange room of mine just to see what it is I’m up to.

That and I’m craving chocolate like mad!

Let’s face it, mostly I’m just craving chocolate and using this post as a way to avoid going into the kitchen to graze (ie. forage for chocolate) like a half-starved cow on the day feed floods the barn yard.

You see, while I really detest the whole “New Year’s Resolution” gimmick… I have decided that my birthday marks a turning point. The fact that my birthday happens to fall in the same month as New Year’s Day is merely a coincidence and an annoying one at that. Actually, the only thing MORE annoying is to have said birthday fall on Superbowl Sunday (which, my darling Britt, it does NOT this year).

But, I digress, excuse me.

My birthday marks a turning point. I am going on a diet. I’m getting serious and digging in, I’m going to exercise and I’m going to (maybe) even sweat a little, very little. My husband (at my request) has agreed that my birthday present will be A.) A Total Gym (LOVE THAT!) and B.) NutriSystem. Fact is, I’m going to be…

CLOSE YOUR EYES MOM, YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS…

31, that’s right, I said it. 3-1

Thirty-one… a quarter, a nickel, and a penny.

I’m just not getting any (Marti! Get your mind out of the gutter!) younger, healthier, thinner, cuter, perkier (yes, THAT kind of perky), less tired, etc. You pick. WTF-Ever. It’s time to change something and that something is me.

Which means that I have… (pausing to count) 9 days (give or take) to binge on every ounce of chocolate I can cram into my face. That’s right… I said BINGE. STFU, fuckyouverymuch. And, yes, I know my birthday is a week from Friday. I’m very well aware of that, however, I don’t intend to start the dieting thing until the Monday AFTER my birthday because WHAT would the point be in RUINING a birthday weekend?

Right? Right.

Right.

Now, I’m off to the kitchen, this was NOT much of a distraction and I believe there is a stash of leftover Christmas candy in there somewhere.

Exactly one year ago today I wrote this.

Two weekends ago (the last weekend of Christmas break) we were back up the mountain again.

Maggie

No snow trip is complete without an Ethan crash.

Snow and sun, weren’t we lucky?

The kids hiking up and down this hill all day was GREAT. They all fell asleep on the way home… which gave us an hour of peace and quiet. *sigh*

Last weekend (a week later) in spite of below freezing temps both here in town and up in the mountains, the snow was gone. GONE!!! So we had to go hiking instead. We’re hoping another storm will blow through and we’ll be able to take another snow day soon.