False Advertising

Time Magazine's 10 questions last week were for Dave Grohl, rockstar extraordinaire. Daimean really likes the Foo Fighters, and fancies himself a future singer/drummer/guitarist. So I called him into the kitchen where I had been reading/making dinner so he could read the article. He came in, started reading.... and then, halfway through the article, he had this strange look on his face and he said, "Wait... wait... THIS is Dave Grohl?" Yes, honey, that's him. "The guy who sings Everlong??" Mmm hmm, one and the same.

"But... he's OLD!"

Ah yes, we old people kick ass, kiddo.

I Win

Isn't this supposed to be "the most wonderful time of the year"? So why am I feeling like shit?
My first semester back at school is almost done. Just when I thought it had gone off without a hitch, I get an email from one of my teachers saying that he has no record of my taking one of the exams. WTF? Seriously? I said that I don't keep copies of papers or tests that have been graded and returned. He responded that the only option was for me to re-take it, and advised that in the future I should keep all of my papers until the end of the semester "to be covered in such an eventuality."
How about no? Hmm? Ya like that? NO.
So I argued it. Said it was unfair, and that the same could be said about professors keeping papers until the grades are recorded. Ultimately I agreed to take it again if I had to, but made it be known that I found it quite frustrating, especially when I'm preparing for finals.
Know what he did? Sent me an email saying he'll take me at my word, maybe he's made a mistake, and I don't have to re-take it.

I win.

But I Don't Speak Mexican!

Yesterday I had planned a trip to the National Museum of Mexican Art, where I was to choose a topic to write a report on for my Latin American History class. I tried to talk the kids into going with me, but Belly protested, "I'm not Mexican!" To which, of course, I reminded him that he is Mexican. He then yelled out (while in line at McDonald's) "But I don't even speak Mexican!!" Here are a few of my favorite pieces from the museum.



*Side note* I'm typing this at work, and there's a new guy sitting at a desk sort of half facing me. I just sneezed, and when I did, I pulled my jacket up to cover my face. He now looks like he wants to run from the room. What? I covered!

Thanksgiving went well, and Hubs and I went out for Black Friday for the first time. Three people were stabbed in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for Best Buy to open. Who brings a knife to a shopping spree? Apparently 3 people, since I don't think they were all about sharing it and taking turns with the shanking.

Yesterday we pulled out our Christmas tree and all of the assorted STUFF we've accumulated over the years. I had more fun than the kids. Anyway, our house now looks as merry as it feels :)

Years of Guilt... Gone

The setting, grandma’s house. The year, probably 1985 or 1986. The fashions… well, we’ll leave that alone.
It was my birthday, and I’d unsuccessfully lobbied to stay home from school. To make me feel better about being shipped off to the institution, my grandmother promised to make me a special birthday lunch, just for the two of us to share.
Being a child means living in the moment and having a totally egocentric world view, right?
So, that day, I invited my friend Jenny Pagan to lunch at my grandmother’s house. My grandmother didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t seem surprised or disappointed. She led us to the table, already set for two. She fed us salad and steak (my favorite foods at the time – yes, I was a strange child) and sent us on our way back to school.
Years later, I looked back on that with shame. Here was my grandmother, trying to do something special and nice for us, and I didn’t consider her feelings at all. I felt so terrible, for so long.
Last week I picked up the phone and called my grandmother, launched into the story and said, “I’m either calling to apologize, or to thank you for rolling with the punches.” She laughed and swore she hadn’t even thought of it since the day it happened, and couldn’t imagine I’d actually lugged around guilt for something like that.
I blame my quasi-Catholic upbringing.

Back to Basics

As in walking, sitting, reaching. Those basics. The ones I couldn't do after yesterday's fall down the stairs. Today I'm sporting a few nasty abrasions and bruises, but I feel much better. Nothing broken except my ego. Because of course, Hubs was there to see this colossal FAIL of stairwalking. After all was said and done, he asked me kindly to never do that again, as seeing me get hurt almost killed him.
I just love it when he thinks of himself in these situations ;)

Looks as Bad as it Feels

This morning while rushing out of the house carrying 1) my heavy book bag for school and 2) a big, steaming cup of coffee and 3) Hubs' jacket to be dry cleaned....
I slipped down the wet back stairs. Feels like I went totally airborn before the weight of my bag helped slam me into the stairs. Then of course I slid down the remaining stairs, and lay in a crouched, crumpled heap at the bottom.
Now I'm at work, in terrible pain. My ribs hurt when I breathe. I can't even lean back in my chair.
There's no way I'll make it to school tonight, so sit for an extra 3 hours in a hard, plastic chair.
I just want to go home :(

DIY Dog Healing

My little man if feeling better now. *Whew!*
Wait….
Now my dog is sick. My 75lb baby. He wasn’t acting like himself. He was kind of down. Maybe I’m projecting human feelings on him, I don’t know. Then he started throwing up. Then yesterday he didn’t want to eat. I sat up with him half the night, cleaning up puke, coaxing him to drink water, and reading online about DIY dog fixing. Gave him some maple syrup, because one site suggested his shivering may have been due to hypoglycemia from not eating. He threw that up. On my bed.
This morning Hubs took him into the vet, because seriously, I threw a tennis ball and he just watched it go. Now you KNOW that means he doesn’t feel well. So he’s there, and they’re keeping him overnight.
OVER. NIGHT.
My poor dog!! He’s going to be so sad! What if he freaks out? What if he thinks I’ve left him??

Eva, on the other hand, is living it up. She’s getting all the food and treats that Ilio doesn’t want, and she’s tossing around a pair of brand new tennis balls that she’s got all to herself.