Thursday, September 18, 2014

Derek Jeter

He's retiring this year. It's a big deal even if you aren't a Yankee fan (which I totally am) because he has like 700 world records. Okay maybe not that many, I'm not fact checking this. Let's call it stream of consciences because it sounds better than lazy.

Whatever the point is he's impressive. 



Beyond the records and the stats and the fan love though Derek Jeter is a throw back player to a time when baseball was truly our national passtime. To a time when we watched to see legends in the making. In short he is a class act.

No scandals. No hearings on capitol hill. No arrests or rumors.

Nothing.

Sure there are plenty of consistantly good players that dont get into trouble but Jeter isn't just good. He's amazing. There is no question in anyone's mind that he will be in the hall of fame. More than likely a first round pick and possibly a unanimous vote. Those aren't things to scoff at.

Sure he's slowing down a bit and the amazing plays aren't as much a daily event anymore but after 20 years (20, an insane number in professional sports) he is getting tired. 

I look forward to the pomp and circumstance that will follow him this season. He deserves every bit of fan love.

So as a fan I want to say I'm sorry I called you a pretty boy Derek. Not that you aren't pretty. Because you certainly are but you are also an amazing player and an actual role model. Thanks for not letting us down.

Great job Cap! We will miss you.




Monday, September 15, 2014

Neighborhood

When I was a small child I lived in Queens in a small apartment above a store.
It was just like this.


I wasn't there long though because apparently Queens isn't an idyllic place to raise a family.  So we packed up and moved to Queens Village.

Obviously it is very cool to live in the Queen's Village as the name implies. Under the watchful eye of royalty. In the shadow of a castle.

Okay Queens Village isn't like that at all. There are a lot of houses only separated by a driveway and a perfectly manicured lawn of 10'x10'.

That isn't to say it didn't have it's perks.

Two words: BLOCK PARTY!!

The whole street would shut down for a day and everyone would come out and talk to the neighbors. There would be Police barriers at the end of the street so kids could ride their bikes or skate their skates (my preferred mode of transportation in those days.) without concern of being flattened.

There were unsafe carnival rides that would arrive on the back of trucks run by x felons with questionable  people skills. We would eat and eat and eat until it wasn't a matter of if a child was going to vomit on the "round up" but when.

To a small child it was better than Disney World.

Jump to the present. 

Triple S and I moved into a nice neighborhood where people wave to each other every morning. Where kids ride around on bikes and play basketball in driveways.

Then they started a ladies night. One night a month all the women of the community gather in the clubhouse to chit chat about kids, decorating and guns (it is the South after all).

That was awesome but they didn't stop there. Oh no! Because we go big or go home here!

THEY PLANNED A BLOCK PARTY!!

The little Long Island girl inside of me jumped for joy. There weren't any pony rides or dangerously unsafe roller coasters but there was more food than 150 people could eat.

Those are grown men about to hulu hoop. bet you wish you lived here too.

There was a hula hoop contest and a pulled pork cook off. There was an eggs toss and croquet and cornhole. (I know that doesn't sound family friendly but trust me, it is.)


Please note Triple S' perfect form during the egg toss.


It was awesome.

So I can live with ridiculous rules about wheeled carts for garden hoses (yeah we have a rule for that) and garbage cans visible from the street (I'm not storing that smelly thing in my garage).

I'm okay with arguing about the color of my door. I'm good with all of this because my neighbors are making the pro column of living in a planned community out weight the con column but a huge margin.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Preschool: year 3


This year though, I was worried about criers. 

I love 4 year olds. They are smart and funny and fun and we play with crayons and play dough and dress up. There are swings and slides and nature walks. It's basically the coolest job ever. Plus I get to indulge in my superhero t shirt obsession. 

The problem is that none of that fun stuff can happen until they get to know me and not miss their moms so much. 

Sometimes that takes a few minutes and sometimes it takes a few days. For the littler guys it can take weeks. Although it feels much longer when they won't stop crying. Poor babies.

This year my new kiddos walked right in and got down to the business of having fun. No tears. No crying. Nothing but smiles. It was epic.

I'm hoping it was a sign of how our year together is going to go and not a "things can only get worse" situation.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Could You Recognize Your Spouse's Dismembered Body?



This was the conversation Triple S and I had yesterday. It started simple enough. (As it usually does.)

I was pointing out to him that I had a birth mark on my leg. You know just in case I'm involved in a horrible accident and dental records and fingerprint aren't a viable identification method.

He told me that he was going to make a mental note although he couldn't make any promises. He further posited that he didn't think it was likely that he would be able to recognize his own severed limb.

Say out of a lineup of 5 severed legs. Because that is a likely scenario.

That is when I suggested we get identifying tattoos. Like code numbers on each limb.


Suspicious detective: "Ma'am we found a leg in the harbor. We need you to confirm it's your husbands."

Me: "Arm or Leg?"

Suspicious detective: "Leg."

Me: "Left or right?"

Suspicious detective: "Left."

Me: "Does it have a 7 on it?"

Suspicious detective: "No it has an 11."

Me: "Then that can't be my husband."

You see Triple S thought my idea was so genius that it was likely someone else would have come to the same conclusion. Therefore we would have to be very clever about what we chose so as no to have repeated numbers. It would suck to bury someone else's husband's arm when my own husband's arm was still out there somewhere.
You really can find anything and everything on the internet. It is equal parts awesome and terrifying.

sidebar: Why does spellcheck keep telling me "else's" isn't a word. It totally is right?

Monday, August 18, 2014

darn you google search results!

I love that Blogger tells you who is checking out your blog.

They let you know that you are super popular in Russia. (not because that is where all the baby spambots are born but because I can totally relate to people who consume on average 4.8 gallons of alcohol a year. We know that's my jam.)

Remember the doll tuxedo?

I know I see it in my nightmares all the time.

In recent weeks "KFC Mutant chickens" has been bringing the most traffic to this little blog because everyone knows this is where you come for important information about mutants and fast food.

Today though someone went to Google and typed in "badman and superman parents".

Now that isn't a typo. Well it isn't a typo on my part. We know how I feel about Batman. I would never call him badman. That sounds like a discount knock off about Brant Woyne and his trusty manservant Andrew. He uses his millions (not billions because we are in a recession) to fight crime in Metrocity all the while dressed as a rat. There is no flying rodent comparison for him because that is too expensive and there isn't a board on pinterest with discount ways to build wings.

I love you internet.
You can make your own meme here if you are bored or insane or any combination of those two things.



One last thing before I go.

that meme generator is dangerous!

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Joys of Parenthood. Part 763

Note: I wrote this post Friday.

Sometimes I wish I was a much meaner person.

Or at least I didn't care about human niceties. You know like holding the door, saying good morning, letting people merge.

Sociopath? Yeah that would have made today a bit easier.

What happened you ask?

Nothing life changing or sad. (I've mentioned before this ain't that blog.)

Nope. Nothing like that. It's much worse.

Sit down and let me tell you a story:

It started on Wednesday when we arrived at my son's music lesson only to find out his current teacher was gone. No one told us. So instead of continuing my son on his path to super stardom we stood there for 30 minutes until we could arrange for another time.

We headed back tonight to start with a new instructor. Number 5, apparently no one wants to teach my son. (This isn't true at all I'm just complaining. Obviously he is my kid and we routinely get calls from the Van Halen's about his talent.).

Apparently though someone forgot to update the super high tech excel spreadsheet they use to schedule the lessons and they had double booked the time. Of course, since we were one minute late the other lesson had already started and by the time we figured out what was going on another 30 minutes had passed and it was someone else's time.

Luckily I had fed the kids before we headed over there.

Or not, as the case became when Colin told me he had just thrown up in their bathroom and apparently didn't do the best job with his aim.

Now we've been waiting awhile and I can just leave and make it someone else's problem. If I was a sociopath that is totally what I would have done.

I didn't though. stupid conscience!! Instead I got to go into the store's bathroom, where only men work, that really isn't open to the public, and clean up my son's vomit.

Now I want you to think for a moment about how I described the bathroom.

Have you pictured it in your head? Are you somewhere between youth hostel and frat house? Good because that is pretty accurate. Luckily there was pine sol and paper towels.

Pretty sure it is now cleaner than it has ever been. I, of course, feel the need for a shower.

So over all a fun day.


NOTE: Yes I am aware this is what the Internet call a first world problem. I'm not bemoaning the state of my tragic life. I just thought there can never be too many good stories about vomit.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Geek Love

I know I've mentioned this before but I am a serious GEEK.

For the most part I don't make general announcements about my proclivities. Sometimes though I feel my insane love for something start to bubble to the surface and as the words start to leave my mouth I hear myself getting more and more excited about my obsessions.

This happened the other day when someone mentioned Doctor Who.

August 23 is only 9 days AWAY!!!


They simply said they hadn't really liked the 2005 reboot.

One simple statement and I felt my insanity bubble up. I started with one comment about why they were wrong and it spiraled into a 20 minute diatribe about how Doctor Who is awesome.

I kept remembering my "favorite" thing. One after another and they were coming out in a disjointed stream of consciousnesses rant.

Now if you love Doctor Who then you can understand that trying to explain it on the best of days makes you sound crazy but when you're excited it gets worse.

In my head I could hear myself getting ramped up but I couldn't seem to stop it. My crazy was spilling out for everyone to see.


Good news though. A few weeks have passed and no one seems to be giving me the side eye so I guess a little crazy is forgiven.