What Calms the Crazy Boy? Dinner and a Movie

Show me the way to go home
I'm tired and I want to go to bed
I had a little drink about an hour ago
it's gone straight to my head
Where ever I may roam
On land or sea or foam
You will always hear me singing this song
Show me the way to go home



picture stolen from nomorebrains.co.uk




hooray for orange powder, milk and butter


Every night when I get home from work, just after I've opened the front door, and just before I set down my stuff, I usually hear the phrase "yay, mommy's home." First The Girl says it, then, a when The Girl is a few syllables in I here Hubby chime in w/ the same phrase. To round out the chorus, The Boy chimes in with something like "yay, mammassome." It's the perfect end to my work day.
Last night was different. I walked in the house. The Girl was in her room doing her homework. Hubby was in the kitchen making dinner. As I walked up the creaky stairs I heard "no, no, no, no." I got to the top of the stairs, turned the corner and saw The Boy was standing in the middle of the living room wearing nothing but a saggy diaper (he just learned to take off his clothes, and now he does it all the time). He was stomping in place, "talk to the hand" hand out at me and screaming "no." Hubby said he had been in a bad mood since he had woken up from his nap. After a half hour of The Boy being a jerk, I gave him a big bowl of mac'n'cheese and turned on the TV. Jaws was on. The Boy sat down, devoured two bowls of mac'n'cheese and watched Jaws. He loved it. He was in a perfect mood for the rest of the night.
Funny Boy.

Then the night ended on a sweet note. We put The Boy to bed and The Girl and I played 5 hands of Uno with her hello kitty Uno cards.

On Purpose

I live in San Francisco on purpose. Here's one of the reasons why.


The Unseen Sea from Simon Christen on Vimeo.

The music is kinda cheezy, but the video is beautiful.

Freshly Squeezed. Ready for 40.

Once upon a time, when I was about 3 or 4 years old my mom and I were driving in the car. I was in the front seat, without my seat belt (because nobody in 1974 used seat belts and kids rode in the front seat all the time) rummaging around the stuff that was under the seat and on the floor. I found a medical book. It was some weird cartoon book of the female anatomy. It had cartoon diagrams of breasts, reproductive systems and such.
Having just learned a few terms used by the Vulgate to describe the top half of the female anatomy, I shouted out "Tits. Look Mom, tits."
She looked at me very calmly and said "Andi, I think Jesus wants us to call them 'boobies'."

Today is exactly one month before my 40th birthday. Rather than say goodbye to my 30's, I decided to wish my 40's an early happy birthday. Today I had my first regularly scheduled annual mammogram. I had one before about 4 years ago. My doctor found something worth investigating. The investigation (needle aspiration and core sample) found nothing of note that needed to be followed up on (yay). The experience today was a lot easier than the experience 4 years ago. 4 years ago the doctors knew they were going to see something. It was up to them to find out what it was. I was really nervous. Today I wasn't really looking forward to the process, but I wasn't nervous. Sure, it's a little bit uncomfortable being topless in front of a stranger, then getting one's boobs' squished between two plastic plates (take a deep breath, don't move, ... beep), but I was in and out of the doctors office in 20 minutes, and that includes parking, a broken elevator and stopping off at Sugarbowl for a cocktail bun and a cuppa joe.

A small inconvenience to avert a large one, to say the least.