Reclaiming

Yesterday evening when I rang the dinner bell alerting all that a feast of spaghetti with meat sauce and tossed salad was ready for consumption--instruction were to grab a plate, claim a 12x12 square of ceramic tile anywhere in the center perimeter of the kitchen, be still and eat; while standing.


It appears by the looks of things that every flat surface had, has been monopolized by homework...poster board swallows half the kitchen table with all its accent pieces and snippets of magazine pages. The island's upper level is exhausted with freshman class binders and folders in coordinating colors; to identify French II from Honors English and so on... The lower portion of the island stacks with more attempts to bring on the need to create carpal tunnel syndrome for me with a signature here and there. Then somehow we manage to toss in a desktop and a laptop into this mix of education muddle. Then because space is at such premium in the central station of the house; Princess A had her constant course of AP Psychology (I swear she will be able to offer therapy session by years end) diverted to the lower rung of the house....


I wonder why I bother to ask myself why King Ralph may have a case of the shingles. Just looking around at this mayhem would make anyones skin ache! Certain too it will take a bit more than gummed reinforcer to secure things back in order.


To simply put it...I NEED TO RECLAIM THE CENTRAL STATION OF THE CASTLE!

Quite the Dog Day

I think... maybe...today, I'd like to be Leona Hemsley's dog.

What the *&^% is a dog to do with a trust fund of 12-million dollars?

I don't even know if one can answer that question.

Snow Day In August

This is what the opening page of the school district web site read this early morning--to be sure my tired eyes aren't seeing wrong they posted it in red...

"Due to air conditioning failure, all classes and events at ******* Middle School are canceled for Wednesday, August 29, 2007."

I suggest a few blocks of ice and a couple of fans...that should keep the building cool and the kids on the path to education...and my renewed; relished peaceful days in tact.

Humdrum Tuesday

Laundry day. I have been churning it out at a constant pace-- since 9am. Fresh undies for all. Matched socks. T-shirts that smell like fresh rain. Bath towels stacked to tower height.

To entertain myself between loads I have sunk to an all time TV low, I am watching season one of Tori & Dean:Inn Love. Why? Why am I watching this ridiculous reality TV show? For some odd and demented reason I am laughing (out loud) at Tori catching a mouse from the blue room bathtub and sneaking it out in a shoe in avoidance of guest awareness...mental check for me? I believe so!

I suppose I will relish in the remainder of humdrum Tuesday because the rest of the week lends little for a calendar break--open houses, fall sport pep rally night, football games and marching band...

The Powerhouse

It's a slumber par-tay in the basement family room tonight. The celebration--we are the people with the power, the electricity. M has her "in the dark" posse down there staying cool, pillows and blankets swallow the sectional couch. The girls are eating ice cream, popsicles, popcorn, drinking soda-pop. All while doing a round of DDR, rocking out with Guitar Hero, watching movies, telling stories about high school life as a freshman, moans of how they are to survive a year of French II with a certain teacher...

In other words, it is incredibly fun to see M and her friends being giddy high school girls. It even more fun to see and hear our resident senior Princess A join in the conversation and know exactly what and whom they are talking about.

Today, I love teenage girls--even more than yesterday. And...since,I loved them a ton yesterday I love them two tons today.

Blog Interuption

Pardon me while I take an intermission from blogging. True I have a bit more; actually a lot of school supply shopping. Real reason for this unplanned interuption is I have a 7th grade Challenge English class homework assignment. Yes me, the parent--a paper titled ONE IN A MILLION.

In a "million words or less" (I'm teetering with the idea of going for the million words to screw with the teacher, I love a challenge) I am to describe my child...basically introduce D.

I am sweating my use of proper grammar, punctuation, pulling out my thesaurus to jazz up my vocabulary...I am on a mission to receive an A, nothing less will I settle for.

Since the English teacher and I share a surname I am planning my witty sign off...Respectfully submitted by "The Other" Mrs. A.

Back on the Sandwich Bandwagon

They're off, off to the first day of school--12th grade, 9th grade and 7th grade.

When I asked the girls what they wanted me to pack in there lunches M moaned "back on the sandwich bandwagon". (I think she is having a hard time embracing the standard staple of school lunches--the sandwich. Since our backpacks while hiking the month of June were always stuffed with a sandwich.) Princess A is also still suffering from the affects of sandwich overload, sandwich burnout. She did however request a turkey and cheddar on sour dough. M requested turkey with lettuce on white...because we all know she only likes the white bread. D on the other hand is not totally ready to embrace the sandwich bandwagon and requested a chef salad--I obliged her.

Of course the day started with alarm clock music; a little Beatles, a little Christian rock. Really mixing it up. The guy upstairs knew I was going to need a higher power presence (this day via music) to make it through this morning...looming ahead was another fashion fight--static with stilettos.

While Princess A and D dressed minus any dissension M was preparing to duel the queen. (FYI, the queen always wins!) A & M had to get their dress fix in on the first day since zero hour band rehearsals start tomorrow...that means comfortable marching clothes. D, well, she is finding her feminine side--finally.

Back brace. M has chosen to make a medical decision, relinquishing herself from the bondage of her brace. I gently said, if some ogre is going to be cruel on the first day they are certainly going to be cruel on the second, third, fourth...but I'm just a mom, what do I know. Princess A assured her that this is high school, not middle school; people aren't that cruel they've matured--hopefully. Shoes. As you can tell from this years first day of school picture I was without a doubt going to achieve victory in the shoes battle--or barefoot it would be. We found compromise with the borrowing of a pair of metallic weave wedge sandals from Princess A's closest. Stiletto subject settled.

D walked to the bus stop at exactly 6:54am and 56 seconds. The bus arrived at 6:55am. Perfect timing. We managed to avoid the stress topic of the gummed reinforcers. Thank you very much.

At precisely 7:15am Princess A and M loaded themselves, a few spiral notebooks and pencils in the Toyota to test out the official nature of that newly acquired high school campus parking permit.

Here I sit, alone, with loads of dirty laundry. First, off to the doctor...this summer cold has become something more than just a cold.

**************************************************
1254PM: King Ralph called to inform he has procured a package of gummed reinforcers. This hot potato is closed!

First Day of School Eve

To simply sum up the first day of school eve--King Ralph wishes he was on the night shift this month so to avoid all the female teenage drama that accompanies this eve.

When I returned home from the first ever "Freshman Transition Day" I was worked up at the lack of conscience on the part of the upper classmen who volunteered themselves up as mentors...not to mention the lack of organization the day possessed. So, I fired off a letter to the freshman principal, who then forwarded it the head principal, who then forwarded it to the freshman counselor...to make the long story short it seems the head principal has named me a parent member of next years transition day committee.

Princess A helped to save the afternoon of freshman newbie nerves by helping M plot a course of direction to properly navigate the hallways of her "new" school. The calmness of an afternoon turned to twisted nerves, cries of "please don't make me wear this back brace the first day" which elevated into "I'm going to be the freak in the freshman class" to "you have no trust in me"...a full blown poor-me-life-handed-me-a-barrel-of-lemons episode. I tried, like a any good mom, to assure M that one can make lemonade from a barrel of lemons. Then it seems she drinks the lemonade from a old smelly shoe instead of a nice crystal beverage glass. I'll trudge on doing my job best I can...self esteem I say you are there somewhere.

In the mean time D suddenly decided to jump on the sister's fashion wagon. She has informed us she does not have ownership of a proper purse to match the printed dress that is to be the first day of school outfit. Never mind borrowing M's purse which is a perfect match because, in the midst of a melt down you do not ask to borrow anything from a fellow melt downer. Besides what does a 7th grader need a purse for? Her tampon? Okay, I'll give you that--if she was menstruating, which doesn't seem to be at this present time. Then to make the drama even richer she had a total flip out over the fact I did not purchase gummed reinforcers (which were on the school list). You "definitely need these the first day of school". To which I say h-o-g-w-a-s-h. I struck a deal if any teacher curses D for her lack of gummed reinforcers to strengthen those hole punched papers I will do her chores for a week. I am almost certain I will not be unloading the dish washer or taking out the trash.

Princess A was in a tizzy over needing a slip for her black linen skirt. Why don't stores sell slips anymore? The "spousal equivalent" aka opticman did a segment on his radio show about this...woman do in fact still need slips, really more often than they think. So being the genius mother I am I took one of my hibernating 80's ankle length slips and hacked it off. Presto instant mini slip. When I had to give my opinion on the perfect necklace--I thought the King was going to loose it. He just doesn't understand the being of a teenage girl, girls!

Really...honestly...I could use another of Lisa's margaritas! I guess with my summer cold I'll have to settle for a shot of NyQuil.

...continued

I just lifted my September issue of Good Housekeeping from its plastic postage wrap...the cover reads "Easy! 20 Chicken Recipes" It's like the devil has a hold of me--both in temperature and chicken. I think I may have even dreamt I got a job at Tyson, plucking chickens.

How can I escape the chicken? I'm drowning.

Chicken Hell

Chicken. Hell. Chicken Hell. I am in Chicken Hell.

I know this because the only thing in our freezer is chicken. I know for certain I am in hell-- temperatures swirl at 105*, lest not forget it "feels like 107*". So that certainly means hell? Yes.

King Ralph went to the grocery store last evening for his own fruition. He returned with $140 of light, fat free, low or no cholesterol food options--rices, yogurts, ramen noodles (in a variety of flavors)...the only produce he managed to toss in the cart was blueberries and green grapes... and chicken. He actually suggested I toss the Popsicles to make room for the chicken. CHICKEN-CHICKEN-CHICKEN.

I am beginning to emanate chicken from my pores. My girls have sprung the beginnings of a beak. As the King's cholesterol lowers our feet are morphing into web. I no longer yell at my girls, I cluck. No need to shave we preen.

I am in chicken hell. Cholesterol-free-chicken-hell.

I had a break down, like Tim Allen's character in Wild Hogs, I mashed potatoes and drowned them in butter barely escaping my desire to literally eat the stick whole.

Last night I binged on brownies my friend baked me. I couldn't decide how many I should stop with on my binge...and I was not about to go "super-model" after the binge, I was keeping them--all four. I need a mixer for the chicken. I need fat grams.

I am to the point of chicken hell where my dreams are certain to turn nightmare--Colonel Sanders chasing me with a butcher knife and a bowl of his original recipe seasoning.

God save the chicken. Save me!

The Best Koolaid Stand Ever!

While I sip Apple-Cranberry martini(s) here in Michigan...I am flipping through my sis's bartender pocket book.

If I have a stand with this koolaid will you come? Do you think I will make a lot of money...even have enough customers to make it worth my while?

Electric Koolaid Cocktail Recipe

Ingredients : - 1/2 oz amaretto
- 1/2 oz blue curacao liqueur
- 1/2 oz peach liqueur
- 1/2 oz melon liqueur (midori, melloni...)
- 1/2 oz cherry brandy
- fill with 1/2 sweet and sour mix
- fill with 1/2 cranberry juice
- 1 splash grenadine syrup

What do you charge for such a fine cup of koolaid? Should I card?

Innocence

I don't know if my niece Chlo-Yo and I are buds because I witnessed her entrance into the world--but we are. Always have been. Always will be.

Today at the beach-- as we sat on our towels playing a game-- she was so adorable when she innocently and sweetly said with a dose of amazement,"oh-my-gosh did you see what God just did, wasn't that cool". All "God" did was move a cloud over the sun.

I wish I still had the thrill of a child. Instead I have a mild sunburn.

Choo-Choo

Me and D are taking the train to MI tomorrow morning--on the 435am train bound for Chicago before catching another on to Ann Arbor. We are excited despite the ridiculous time.

Princess A and M are off to 4 days of intense band rehearsals in the wilderness...removed from all the distraction of everyday life. It's going to be an all out sweat fest. 100* temperatures swirl. God lov'm!

The King...well...he's gonna keep castle solo. Four estrogen free days. For some strange reason I think he wishes we were all going to be home to drive him batty.

Celebrating a Year Older

Friday, my actual birthday, I spent torturing myself in wilds of the school supply isle at Walmart all in the name of tax free day...to what save a few pennies while losing compassion for my fellow man, or this situation mothers? I watched a mother beat her toddler in the cart for touching the pencil pouches and then beating her again for crying. I listened to a mother's response to every thing her child read off the school list with a "bullshit". I tried like hell with my psychic abilities to get the lane blockers to move there carts to one side of the isle--my power weakens in my year older state. All the while I silently sang Happy Birthday to myself; spirits up I said. I had a lunch date for Chinese with King Ralph and D. Then at 515pm I got my annual millisecond of fame with my sister-in-law's DJ spousal equivalent's on air birthday shout-out. I ended the day by falling asleep on my new couch-- my favorite thing to do.

Saturday, myself, my niece (whose birthday is August 1) and spousal equivalent (whose birthday is August 4)-- whom we affectionately nicknamed "Opticman"-- had our annual celebration...this year pool party style. I sipped margaritas while the others tipped back beers and pina coladas.

Here we are with our fantastic pool party birthday cake (half chocolate, half yellow with custard filling)...


Wait I think you need a close up of that cake...


To say the least, it was a great birthday!

Brain Fart

I am not sure if it is the fact that I am a year older today, waking at 6am to prepare the girls' marching band water coolers, staying up till after midnight or a combo of all--I cannot type my own entries or even reply to others without some type of error with a dyslexic flair. I mean to type fond and I type found. I mean to how and I type who. There is something happening up here in my head and it could be more than just a little brain fart?

Chanel No. 5?

It seems to be happening more frequently--home alone.

So what's a girl to do? Invite a friend over for popcorn and a Blockbuster movie? Exactly.

The flick was Perfume The Story of a Murder. In the event that my scent may evoke some emotional meaning to a curious male--this movie let's me know bathed or unbathed makes no difference. Let's just say I may have to rethink the whole sweet smelling scent splashed on my body.

Strange, strange movie.