Interlude - Found Poem
Current mood: silly
Category: MySpace
I haven't done one of these in a couple of years, but tonight it seemed appropriate.
Created directly from the bulletin titles in the order in which they appeared.
Join my Mafia burnt shit gay face Because it was there, help save humanity I'm selling books if anyone is interested, I don't know why I bother Add spliff mode you faggots: I came to rep my hood Secret Chimp, please forgive me father - I need dick Carrie!!!! Not a true picture of family violence One via can the banana split Chincoteague Pony Swim
Thanks Just a simple bulletin, can someone help me out? I'm the best blog you will ever read.
(Taken directly from the first 20 bulletin titles in the order they were presented, with added punctuation - What? You think I make this crap up? I know you don't think that, since I wouldn't have used the words gay or faggot in it. Now pardon me while I go write a nasty email about that topic to a former student).
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part II e
Current mood: ashamed
Category: Music
Dwarves. Kimonos.
That was going to be the entirety of the blog, but there was far too much fodder, and while a two word blog might be a refreshing change for my readers, no such luck.
If you are expecting political correctness, please stop reading now. It is impossible to do justice to this show and remain politically correct. Not to worry. I get mine in the end, as I usually do.
So. The theme of this show is best shown by the artists themselves:
In short, you are really NEVER too old to rock and roll. Jethro Tull performed live in the US for the first time 39 years ago. I was 4 years old. They were classic rock when I was in high school. They still are. The show was fabulous, though as the final show of the tour, and bearing in mind his age, Ian's vocals were a bit off (I'd say he's lost an octave somewhere, and still managed to do a creditable job), but the music was fabulous.
There really was a little-people couple. There really were kimonos (no, not on the little people - on two very beautiful and YOUNG Japanese girls). There were many, many graying, hairline receding ponytails. If anyone ever had any doubt about Californians being out of shape and overweight, attendance at this concert would have opened some eyes. There were at least two groups comprised of three generations.
I have to tell you folks, I have great hopes for my standard look. There were many, many women in the jeans/tshirt/casual sandals or sneakers ensemble that I favor. Many of them sans makeup, and sans surgical enhancements. They looked awesome, and they were OLD.
Old is such a relative term, is it not? At 60, my grandmother seemed ancient to me. My mother, not so much. I am sure that should I get to 60 I will be positively young, like the women I saw last night. My mom, for the record, would NOT have fit the demographic. She would have fit in better at Seal.
Comeuppance for me: toward the end of the show, three young (20's) men who were extremely drunk wandered down. I had the aisle seat, and spent much of the evening hoping that drunk people wouldn't crash into me and undo 37,000 dollars worth of surgery in an instant. So I was looking warily at said drunkards. After spening the evening pondering bloggage, and thinking very un PC thoughts about age, appearance and the like, this is what I get to hear: "Hey, let's get away from the OLD people." He was talking about ME, dammit. Payback's a bitch.
Anyway, I shall leave you with one final thought on the evening. You all know how I love stacked parking and waiting for everyone to find their cars so we can all go home?
Stoned. Predementia. Old people. Wandering about and hitting the panic button for the Mercedes, Lexuses (or is that Lexi?) and Infinitis.
Yes, it took a while to get out of the lot last night.
Weeks 20 Through 30 The Diet Blog
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Life
I stopped posting the weekly diet blogs around the time that my disk started acting up.
It has been a challenging summer for me diet and health wise. At the beginning of the pain saga, I stopped attending Curves, since the doctor said no resistance training. Then I walked, either three miles, or to a "Four Fast Miles" dvd here in the house. Somewhere in there the combination of meds, pain, and frustration had me hit a really low point, and I stopped exercising at all. For most of the summer, I was able to remain on the low carb program, so that was a plus. Still, it's been one step forward and one back for most of the summer. Here is a list of the weekly weights. Week 19 – 181 Week 20 – 179.8 Week 21 – 183.1 (Yay Steroids!) Week 22 – 178 Week 23 – 177.4 Week 24 – 177.2 Week 25 -175.6 Week 26 – 176.2Vacation! Week 27 – 173.4 Week 28 – 171 (This made me happy - I finally hit 50) Week 29 – 169.8 Week 30 -172.2
A nine pound loss overall for the summer. This makes me happy, though I cannot wait to get back to exercising. I can start the walking next week, but it will be at least six before I can even think about resistance training of any kind. Frustrating, to be sure. Not only have I lost muscle tone overall, but I'm feeling less energetic and lethargic (some of that may still be post-op stuff, though).
At the 26 week mark, Claudia posted a blog admitting that she had forgotten about the contest. Slowly but surely, the blogs stopped getting written, either because people sensed a lack of interest or because they had gone off the diet wagon. For a while, Lael and I were the only two posting, and then we stopped as well.
I missed that support.
Last week was a very difficult one. Post surgery, I started sneaking sugar. Just a little. It didn't help that my folks sent a box of 36 Cheryl and Co. gourmet cookies for the boys. I will not discuss sabotage in the family, except to mention that it's one of those, "Gee, you've gained a lot of weight, you really ought to do something," so you DO SOMETHING, and you get, "You can't live that way forever, for God's sake! You HAVE to eat." After 43 years, you think I'd be immune, but I'm not.
So, blaming PMS, post-op depression, unexpected effects of the Detox system I was using (yes, I did a cleanse - but I think that's a blog in and of itself), or whatever else I could, I lost it.
28 weeks of good behavior. I think that's got to be the longest I've ever lasted. All deviations were planned and allowed (like vacation).
Week 29? The hunger is back. Not physical hunger. Bottomless pit, hole in the soul hunger. Starting last Saturday. So I ate. I took the opportunity to eat EVERYTHING in the house I'd been avoiding for 28 weeks. I ate until I felt sick, and then ate more. I had a large order of deep fried salt at McDonalds. I felt sick. In short, for a few days of last week, I ate to the point of nausea repeatedly. I had constant heartburn from all the sugar and carbs. All the while, I berated myself. All the while I tried to understand how I could fail to listen to my body screaming, "STOP IT!" I tried confessing to WDV. Not good enough.
Alegra posted some blogs about her struggles with some stuff. It's funny how we receive messages from places when we least expect them. "Duh!" I thought. "How have I managed to stay sober for 14 years?" So I actually did something I haven't done in far too long. I had a discussion with HP. Not a yelling, screaming, I'm-pissed-at-you discussion. Not a gratitude list. Just an, "I cannot do this by myself and I need help," discussion.
Because I forget that I am not alone. I forget that there is assistance available to me all the time, from both humans and HP. I forget that I do not need to struggle with myself so much. I forget to let stuff go.
So it's headed back in the right direction. I'm off almost all of the medications at the moment. The detox supplements are done today. I will start walking again this week.
Did I mention that the new jeans I showed in the picture were too big, so I bought a size smaller?
Did I mention that while I couldn't quite zip the size 12 jeans that were too short for my MIL that they got on and are my next goal?
From a 22 to a 12.
Not bad for an old broad.
Currently
reading
:
Stardust
By
Neil Gaiman
Release date: 2006-08-29
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part IId
Current mood: calm
Category: Music
The very day after our confusion at the LA Jazz Fest, we attended a concert at the Orange County Fair. If you want a perfect example of how drastically demographics can change, this was it.
Before I talk about the music and the enthusiasts, I have to talk about fair food. I have not been to a fair in a very long time, so we planned to go early and eat fair food. Deep-fried carbs. This is actually better than non-deep-fried carbs, as the fat lowers the glycemic index. Seriously. Any rationalization allowing someone to consume a deep-fried snickers bar will work for me. At least we split the snickers bar and the funnel cake sundae. I ate the BBQ brisket all by myself, but I shared the corn bread. Then we got fresh kettle corn to take in to the show. I figured what the hell, as I would have a couple of clear liquid diet days coming up.
We had decent seats. Seal was the main act, and Macy Gray was supposed to open, but didn't. Instead, Nikka Costa opened. More about her later.
I stopped to take a look around. No Bocephus. Very few people who were not blond and tan. Very little back, if you know what I mean, but lots of front in the form of silicone. Whereas I had felt positively thin the day before, I was immediately dropped back into the morbidly obese range on this evening, even though I was wearing my standby capris and t-shirt. The older women were impeccably dressed, coiffed, and surgically altered in one form or another.
So. Seal is British, even though he now resides in the United States and considers himself American. He is most certainly NOT African-American, though. The audience was mainly devoid of that demographic.
Nikka Costa comes out to open. Think Fiona Apple on really good anti-depressants channeling Janis Joplin with Kathy Griffith's hair. You will now understand why I found her so annoying, even though her music was good. I recommend you check out her page. I should probably do so as well. If I could listen to her without the chatter and the visual, I'd probably really like it.
Seal comes out on stage. He was amazing, even if he wasn't always pitch perfect. Hell, I'm not pitch perfect either. I just can hear it when someone else isn't. Short show. Good show. I really like Seal. I will definitely go see him again if he is in the area.
No Stevie Wonder. No other recognizable celebs at the fair, and we didn't stop to look at the winning livestock, though we DID stop to check out the bonsai competition. No stacked parking, and I think we were home well before midnight.
My kind of show, even if I didn't fit the OC demographic :)
Currently
reading
:
Stardust
By
Neil Gaiman
Release date: 2006-08-29
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part IIc
Current mood: amused
Category: Music
I learned a secret that may get me killed. It is a secret that most white folk won't believe anyway, so perhaps I am safe. Bocephus, please do not read this blog, lest you have to cut me.
Onward and upward through the fog that is false advertisement.
First, memo to self: Never, ever, ever attend an all-day music festival at any venue with stacked parking. Especially not when you are three days pre-surgery. Thank God for prescription meds and fabulous Hawaiian Kona iced coffee. Wait. Wouldn't those two sort of cancel each other out? I'm digressing.
The show was billed as the LA Jazz and Music Fest. We figured that the inclusion of Kenny G just meant that there was an invisible "elevator" in front of the music part, but that there was going to be jazz. We like jazz. Miles, Thelonius, Coltrane - these men make me happy. Fine chocolate for the ears.
We weren't surprised to note that we were the only Caucasians walking through the parking lot. It's jazz, baby. When we walked in (late, fortunately, and well into the first set), Sheila E and the Escovedo Brothers were playing. We were surrounded by a sea of happy black people. We begin to regret parking. The set finishes, and a comedian I do not know comes out to fill the time before the next set. He is funny and brutal to anyone within his line of sight. He spends most of the evening cracking on the plethora of "two piece linens with a matching hat - on sale now." I notice that he is correct. Many of the men are wearing this outfit. WDV is not. Me? I'm in capris and a t-shirt. I feel incredibly thin, though a bit lacking in the back department.
My capris and tshirt were the most tasteful clothes I saw on a white woman for the entire day. There were very few other white folk present. Most of them were in their late 60's, I'd guess. OLD SCHOOL! The only problem was that the women were all wearing clothing I'd send my students home for wearing to school. It was embarrassing. The few other people we saw in our own age group were wandering around looking as shell-shocked as we were. WHERE IS THE JAZZ? I wish I could point you to a website so that you could see the people whose names I have mercifully forgotten, but I couldn't find one. I'm telling you. We accidentally stumbled onto a secret.
Halfway through the day, there is finally SOME jazz. One or two songs. Then back to the R&B. Suddenly, there is a commotion in front of us. Stevie Wonder arrives with his entourage of two bodyguards and two women, and sits in the box directly in front of us. The highlight of the program was a white guy playing funk. He was really obviously homosexual, but also really, really good. The crowd loved him. Apparently if you are white, it is okay to be gay. They went wild when he played the piano backwards.
At some point, a gentleman and his lady friend walk through the middle of the seating. He is wearing a mustard yellow sequined jacket with matching everything, including a fedora. His girlfriend, who in size/shape/hairstyle looks like she just walked off the staging of "Ain't Misbehaving," is wearing a very snug matching yellow dress. Under a full-length mink coat. In July. In Southern California. At an outdoor concert. Both of them had yellow shoes on. You can be sure that Mr. Comedian MC had LOADS of fun with these two. Poor Stevie missed that part, I think.
By the way. Stevie really does nod and shake his head like that. He also drinks mimosas and eats french fries. Just in case you were wondering.
The last act was Kenny G. The only Kenny G I like is Christmas music. You can tell the difference between the songs.
I'm about to reveal the secret I might get killed for.
Black people LOVE Kenny G. Love him.
We do not. We went and sat in the car in the stacked parking lot and listened to Gorillaz on the Ipod. MUCH better.
At any rate, Mr. Culbertson was pretty good. Stevie thought so too.
But then again, he stayed for Kenny G.
For your viewing pleasure:
Currently
listening
:
Bringing Back the Funk
By
Brian Culbertson
Release date: 2008-04-29
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part IIb
Current mood: cultured
Category: Music
...something about music and demographics, right?
I'm not even on pain meds anymore. Why the hell am I still in such a fog?
Perhaps it is too much time spent on Mobsters. Oh well. WDV has recently started Heroes as well. I REFUSE!
Since we were mostly in the correct demographic for these shows, there really isn't much humor to inject. Just some really good music that we got to see (well, mostly, anyway).
The first show in this leg of the adventure was Return to Forever. I had previously had the pleasure of seeing Chick Corea live at the Catalina Jazz Club. Wonderful show. Wonderful venue. The food is really good, albeit a bit on the pricey side. At any rate, valet parking at Universal is a nice treat after all the damned stacked parking. They even have free coffee in the parking structure. It's terrible, but it's free. Nothing like powdered cappucino to bring about a moue of distaste. (Sorry, I just LOVE that word, and don't get to use it often enough. Which is odd, considering how brilliant BBWAT is at making faces at odors, textures).
The show was good enough that I managed to stay awake despite a double dose of Vicodin and a single of Flexoril. This was the week that all hell broke loose with my body, and I was hurting. Fortunately, Work In Progress, who still babysits for me from time to time, was available to assure me that doubling up on 550 mg Vicodin wouldn't kill me. He reminded me that people using the stuff to get high take MUCH more than that. Oh. Right.
I love fusion. The show was awesome. While we might have been a TINY bit younger than most of the audience, it wasn't by much. RTF hasn't toured in 25 years. I hope they don't wait that long again. I'd like to see them again before I'm wearing Depends.
Second on the roster was Crosby Stills and Nash. Poor WDV had to go alone. I was having a hard time doing anything other than lying flat on my back at this point. For a brief moment, we thought that Alegra's husband would join him, as he was experiencing difficulty at immigration, but it was not to be, which made us happy for Alegra, but WDV had to go it alone. I don't usually buy t-shirts at concerts, but he brought me back a "Teach Your Children Well" shirt that seemed appropo of something. I was sorry to miss them. They were on the list of bands we want to see if they have a reunion tour. WDV assures me that the demographic was correct, even if a bit out of our age group.
Finally, we saw Blues Traveler/Collective Soul/ and Live. Most definitely the correct demographic for us. We were late, and missed some of Blues Traveler, but not enough to miss the Pachelbel variation. This is hilariously funny to us ever since seeing Rob Paravonian with George Carlin. Stop for a moment to think about how many popular songs have some form of the Canon in them. Yep. It's all derivative, isn't it? Well - I don't think any of the screaming Satan vocals in Death Metal are, but I haven't listened to enough to be sure, thank God.
Collective Soul rocked. We were mostly there to see Live, though. It was an interesting experience. Throwing Copper was getting lots of airplay around the time I first met WDV in person. I will not EVER forget driving down Lincoln Blvd in Marina del Rey with both of us singing, "Lightning Crashes," at the top of our lungs. So to see Ed come out on stage with his two little girls, who seem to be pretty close in age to our two, and then censor himself during the encore songs because they were backstage, was a real reminder of how far we've come since then. We're a family now. So is Ed. Life is good, even if we have to watch our language and listen to NPR in the car because nothing else is safe. OK. So WDV has gotten the kids into Jack FM. That's what dads are for. Nothing like hearing your seven-year-old singing, "I am Iron Man."
I wonder if we should take him to see Jethro Tull with us next week?
Dearly Beloved
Current mood: ecstatic
Category: Life
We gather here to celebrate the passing of pain.
Yes.
Almost an entire day with NO PAIN.
The world is full of miracles, even if some of them come in the form of gruff surgeons.
He didn't even yell at me :)
Now I need to go knock on some wood or something.
I have a feeling that the latter part of recuperation is going to be very difficult, because while I feel wonderful, I am still not allowed to do many things. I sense bloggage.
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part IIa
Current mood: amused
Category: Music
Or: Music becomes eclectic Or: Wrong demographics
WDV got an offer he couldn't refuse. If we were to purchase a certain number of tickets to shows and concerts, we would: a) get a discount on tickets b) get to preorder tickets c) get a bunch of other Premier Pass advantages. Of course it would also mean something else. We would get to have a grownup social life again. Needless to say, he jumped all over the offer. Like many things we do, we went a little bit crazy with the number of shows we planned to see.
Please bear in mind that our tastes in music are rather eclectic. This leads to an interesting phenomenon first blogged about after Alegra's visit and the Death Metal debacle. Over half the shows we go to, we are clearly not in the targeted demographic. Fortunately, my Aspie nature allows me to not particularly give a shit when I am the only natural blonde in capris and a t-shirt at a death metal concert.
The other thing you have to understand is that the nature of the offer meant that many of the shows we attended were at the Greek Theater. It's a lovely venue located in Griffith Park. I have spent more money than I care to admit at the Hawaiian coffee bar - which makes the best double shot iced coffee I have ever had. The Greek has one major problem. Parking. In order to park all the cars that show up in the limited park space available, they do something called "stacked parking." This means that cars are directed into long rows with no spaces between rows or cars. Should Griffith park burn again, anyone in the stacked parking lot would be calling their insurance company about the car. You cannot escape the venue until everyone else does. The relevance of this fact becomes important a little later on.
I've already blogged about the Dream Theater show, so I'll skip it with the possible exception of mentioning that Alegra and I were certainly in the wrong demographic, because it is the only show I've ever gone to where the line for the men's room was out the door, while there were NO lines for the women's room. Long haired, t-shirt-jean-combat boots boys and men galore. Me? Capris and a t-shirt. No eyeliner at all. But I got to test the Alegra/Kemari/Teach claims about who can pee fastest.
Next, we were off to see George Carlin. We mostly fit the demographic there. The opening act was Rob Paravonian. He blogs here occasionally. This is a man who brings his guitar on stage and makes music funny. He proceeded to show the audience how very many modern songs can be traced directly to Pachelbel's Canon. When I sent the friend request, I made mention of the fact that he just needs to wait until he's a father and notices that all of the children's musical toys include .midi or .wav versions of Ode to Joy. The only down side to seeing Carlin was that he died five weeks later. As per his instructions, we considered putting him in address book purgatory on our desktop, but did not.
The next show we were scheduled to see was The Cure. This demographic would have been split, for certain. There are the original fans of The Cure, for which we probably would have fit, depending on how many of them pulled out the black eyeliner and clothing, and then there are the young folks who are into retro. Emos, even. Had we actually made it to the show, that camp would have been subjected to teacher look number 37 many times during the show, I am sure. Unfortunately, we didn't make it to the show. Our social calendar had been so very busy, and the tickets had been ordered after the mass initial order, that we neglected to add this particular show to the calendar. It was only while WDV was looking for the tickets to the next event that he realized that we had missed the concert. Bummer. Don't ride him too hard, please, as he beat himself up enough about it.
Though not really a concert, I include this here because we did go to see it at the Greek. For my fellow NPR listeners, you will be please to note that I actually got to see "A Prairie Home Companion," with Garrison Keiller, live. It was a wonderful show - a reminder of how simple things can be made humorous. Bonnie Raitt was the guest musician, and that was rather fine as well. I learned that I was a member of POEM (Professional Organization of English Majors), and still have not remembered to order my t-shirt. Demographics? Well, we certainly weren't in the midst of midwesterners. I did notice that there was a minor generation gap, and that many of the folks of my parent's generation were bitching mightily about stacked parking. We mostly fit in, I guess, even if we were a bit younger. There were certainly many other women with capris and t-shirts present, though not so many men with jeans, combat boots, long hair in a ponytail sans eyeliner.
Hmm. Apparently I shall have to break this up into parts. Time to change position as per doctor's orders. I shall go read. Blessedly, I have not turned on the television today. Bloggage about daytime television to follow.
Where is Chicken Little? (An Interlude)
Current mood: bored
Category: Life
The one thing I hate the most about my Aspieness is my propensity to fall down.
I found the sign on my hospital room door amusing. On a yellow warning sign in black letters: "ALERT! High risk of falling."
Matt and I were discussing this sign yesterday. I said that WDV must want to staple it to my forehead. He suggested getting on of those flourescent/reflective bike vests and printing it on there.
Unlike most folks, I didn't find the, "I've fallen and I can't get up!" commercials funny. I fall down. Often. I also walk into furniture and cabinet corners. Most of the time I am sporting several bruises for which I could not tell you the origin. I injure myself that often.
At any rate, post op recovery was going swimmingly. WDV took Eldest to an appoinment on Saturday, and BBWAT decided he wanted to rollerskate. I reminded him that I couldn't help him skate, and I couldn't pick him up if he fell (insert ominous foreshadowing music here). I helped him put his skates on (they are the over-the-shoe variety suitable for little kids), we put on all his elbow pads, knee pads, and helmet. I pinched his neck when I put on the helmet. I never thought to put pads and a helmet on me. Perhaps if I wear them 24/7...but I digress.
BBWAT skates for about five minutes. He gets all the pads and the helmet off on his own, but asks for help getting the skates off. I walk over, squat down and take the skates off, stand up, and get that peculiar head rush that you get when kneeling or squatting. No biggie.
The next thing I know, my head is slamming into the concrete on the rebound bounce. I grab it and yell something choice and begin rocking my head to deal with the pain. Oh. Shit. Rocking post surgical neck is a bad, bad thing. I stop. I send BBWAT into the house to get an ice pack for my head. I lie on the ground and carefully review the pain areas. Elbow is scraped and hurts. Right hip and butt hurt. Neck? No pain. This is a good thing. BBWAT returns with the ice. Head? Pain. Big lump. No blood. Run through all the signs of concussion I have learned on the emergency medical shows. Don't have any. Get up SLOWLY. Don't pass out. SLOWLY walk into the house just as WDV is pulling up in the driveway.
So we spend Saturday evening waiting for any indication that I need to call the doctor (my post op appointment isn't until tomorrow). There's something about growing up in the home of an OB/Gyn that makes me loathe calling a physician after hours. I will take myself and/or the boys to an urgent care before calling the doctor. I promise I will call if anything starts to hurt, or if I have signs of a concussion.
None of those things happen.
I immediately stop taking all of the pain meds and muscle relaxants I'm supposed to be taking. Passing out is NOT good.
Grace. I may not have one kind, but I sure as hell have enough of the other kind to make up for it.
Pardon me. I'm going to go prepare myself for the reaming out I'm going to get tomorrow for NOT calling.
There's not much else I can do. Whyever did I consider myself a sedentary person just because I didn't exercise or participate in organized sports? I'm not very sedentary at all.
Thank HP for all the new apps and games on MySpace. Mobsters, anyone?
What I Did Over Summer Vacation Part I
Current mood: cheerful
Category: Life
Jews and Italians. A match made in heaven. The Jews love to eat. The Italians have great food.
You may argue, if you wish, about my determination that Chicago is a city created for food lovers. Not necessarily foodies, of course, but food lovers. Since we were there with the rest of the Bloom clan, the trip involved many restaurants. Expats need to reconnect with all of their favorite food, and we cheerfully went along for the ride.
My goal on vacation was to avoid gaining more than five pounds. I KNEW I would be eating. Put a bunch of Jewish family members together in a restaurant, and before the check is delivered, you are discussing the next meal. You may be unable to breathe because of the sheer quantity of food you have just consumed, but where and what you will be eating next is of utmost importance. I was glad we got a hotel room with a microwave and a refrigerator.
Of course the problem with traveling with Jewish family members is that the next favorite activity happens to be one that small children are not fond of. SHOPPING! WDV's uncle suggested that we meet at a mall while he and WDV dealt with some paperwork involving the estate. I think I managed to groan quietly enough so that he didn't hear me through the bluetooth headset. The thought of taking two jet-lagged children to a mall was NOT thrilling to me. As much as BBWAT loves to shop, Eldest hates it. The manner of retaliation is to get BBWAT to misbehave. I don't EVER take both of them shopping.
We arrive at the mall. Fortunately, there is a Disney store right near the entrance we used. I managed to get quite a few toys for under 100 dollars, as they were having a 50% off already reduced merchandise sale. What? A deal is a deal, and I must fulfill my heritage and BUY stuff that is half-off reduced prices. Stuffed animals at the Disney store for 2 dollars? I'm SO there.
Even more fortunately, there is a two-headed dragon play area for the children. I send the princesses and their spouses to the Nirvana of shopping and sit down with the kids. Finally, everyone gathers back together and we head toward the restaurant. Deli. Good deli. That night, we go for pizza.
Let's talk about pizza, shall we? New Yorkers will insist that nothing made outside of New York is really pizza. Chicagoans will not even discuss New York pizza. Californians? Please. These are the people who concocted BBQ chicken pizza. It's good stuff, but it isn't really pizza. On the other hand, if you're ever in Venice, I insist that you got to Abbot Kinney's Pizza Place and order a wild mushroom pizza with an everything crust. To die for. Really.
Me? I don't care. If it's good, I eat it. I am not a pizza snob. Feel free to engage in regional debate in the comments.
Deep dish pizza, stuffed pizza, Italian beef sandwiches, I had it all. Then I went to the ball game. I had popcorn and peanuts (no Cracker Jacks to be had at the ball park - what the fuck is up with that?) and Coldstone for dinner.
Along with the refrain of "The best laid plans....gang aft aglay," we take the boys to the Shedd Aquarium. The line is very, very long. Finally, we decide that we will get a CityPass for the day. More expensive, but worth not waiting in line. While in that line, I do mental math (not a quick process in my case) and realize that it is just as inexpensive to buy a family membership to the aquarium. Not only is there no line for that, but it's a tax write-off as well. Sweet. Maggie, WDV, the boys and I wander in. BBWAT wants to see sharks. We see dogfish. He is now ready to leave. Eldest wants to check out the Komodo dragon. We eat a meal in the sit-down restaurant hoping to settle the kids down before tackling the rest of the aquarium. Nice views of Chicago. We see the Komodo dragon. Eldest is demanding to "play the game." BBWAT is melting down. Let me tell you something. Taking two full-blown Aspies, two partials, and one mostly neurotypical child with sensory issues to a famous aquarium on a rainy Saturday was NOT such a hot idea. We saw the Komodo dragon. We saw the Beluga whales and sea otters. Mama took a look around and made an executive decision that if we wanted to avoid a major blow out, we needed to escape pronto. Too many people. Too much noise. Too many strange smells. $183 for the family membership for a couple of hours in the aquarium. Next year, we'll make sure to return while our membership is still valid, and go off-peak.
We arrived in Sheboygan to visit my MIL. No sign of her in the house. You want to know why I love this woman? We find her in the backyard, single-handedly building an extension to her deck. Eldest gets busy learning how to hammer, and BBWAT is in charge of vacuuming the sawdust up. This was their idea of heaven. In fact, my children had more fun building the deck and visiting the awesome (and FREE) water sprinkling section of the park around the corner than they did doing any of the more expensive stuff. Neither one wanted to go to the Jelly Belly factory. Neither one wanted to go to Mars Cheese Castle. Building a deck? That rocked. Shopping with Grandma and Daddy at the hardware store? That rocked.
Me? I'm just grateful that the new migraine med worked.
I had to leave a day early to get the preadmission testing done here at home. I cannot describe how very much being alone in the house for a day freaked me out. I missed my boys.
Oh. Not only did I not gain 5 pounds on vacation, but I came home 1.2 pounds lighter. That rocked too!
silly
ashamed
accomplished
calm
amused
cultured
ecstatic
bored
cheerful
