American Girl

She waits another week to fall apart...

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. ~ Thomas Paine

Happy Birthday to YOU
by Dr. Seuss

I wish we could do what they do in Katroo
They sure know how to say "Happy Birthday to You!"

In Katroo, every year on the day you were born
The start the day bright in the bright early morn
When the birthday Honk-Honker hikes high up Mt. Zorn
And lets loose a big blast on the big Birthday Horn.
And the voice of the horn calls out loud as it plays:
"Wake Up! For today is your Day of all Days!"

The, the moment the horn's happy honk-honk is heard,
Comes a fluttering flap-flap!  And then comes THE BIRD!

The great Birthday Bird!
And, so far as I know,
Katroo is the only place birthday birds grow.
This bird has a brain.  He's most beautifully brained
With the brainiest bird-brain that's ever been trained.
He was trained by the most splendid Club in this nation,
The Katroo Happy Birthday Asso-see-eye-ation.
And, whether your name is Pete, Polly, or Paul,
When your birthday comes round, he's in charge of it all.

Whether your name is Nate, Nelly or Ned,
He knows your address, and he heads for your bed.
You hear a soft swoosh in the brightening sky.
You are not all awake.  But you open one eye.
Then over the housetops and trees of Katroo,
You see that bird coming!   To you.  Just to you!

That Bird pops right in!
You are up on your feet!
You jump to the window!  You meet and you greet
With the secret Katroo birthday Hi-Sign and-Shake
That only good people with birthdays may make.
You do it just so, with each finger and toe.
Then the bird says "Come on!  Brush your teeth and let's go!
It's your day of all days!  It's the best of the best!
So don't waste a minute!
Hop to it!
Get Dressed!"

And five minutes later you're having a snack
On your way out of town on a Smorgasbord's back
"Today," laughs the bird "Eat whatever you want
Today no one tells you you cawnt or you shawnt
And today, you don't have to be tidy or neat
If you wish, you may eat with both hands and both feet
So get in there and munch.  Have a big munch-er-oo!
Today is your birthday!  Today you are you!

If we didn't have birthdays, you wouldn't be you.
If you'd never been born, well then what would you do?
If you'd never been born, well then what would you be?
You might be a fish!  Or a toad in a tree!
You might be a doorknob!  Or three baked potatoes!
You might be a bag full of hard green tomatoes!
Or worse than all that...Why, you might be a WASN'T!
A Wasn't has no fun at all.  No, he doesn't.
A Wasn't just isn't.  He just isn't present.
But you...You ARE YOU!  And, now isn't that pleasant?

So we'll go to the top of the toppest blue space
The official Katree Birthday Sounding-Off Place!
Come on!  Open your mouth and sound off at the sky!
Shout loud at the top of your voice "I AM I!"
ME!
I am I!
And I may not know why.
But I know that I like it.
Three cheers!  I AM I!

And now, on this Day of all Days in Katroo,
The asso-see-eye-ation has built just for you
A railway with very particular boats
They are pulled through the air by Funicular Goats
These goats never slip, never trip, never bungle.
They'll take us down fast to the Birthday  Flower Jungle.
The best-sniffing flowers that anyone grows
We have grown to be smiffed by your own private nose.

They smell like licorice!  And cheese!
Send forty Who-bubs up the trees
To snip with snippers!  Nip with Nippers!
Clip and clop with clapping clippers!
Nip and snip with clipping cloppers!
Snip and snop with snipping snoppers!
All for you, the Who-bubs clip!
Happy Birthday!  Nop and Nip!

Then pile the wonderous-smelling stacks
On fifty Hippo-Heimers backs!
They'll take those flowers all home for you.
You can keep the Hippo-Heimers too.

While this is all done, I've got a hunch
It's time to eat our birthday lunch...

For birthday luncheons, as a rule,
We serve hot dogs, rolled on a spool.
So stuff and stuff
And stuff and stuff
And stuff until you've had enough

Now, of course, we're all mustard
So, one of the rules
Is to wash it all off in the Mustard-Off Pools
Which are very fine warm-water mountaintop tubs
Which were built, just for this, by the Mustard-Off Clubs.

Then out of the water!  Sing loud while you dry!
Sing loud "I am lucky!"  Sing loud "I am I!"
If you'd never been born, then you migh tbe an ISN'T!
And Isn't has no fun at all, no he disn't.
He never has birthdays, and that isn't pleasant.
You have to be born, or you don't get a present.

A present!  A-ha!
Now what kind shall I give...?
Why, the kind you'll remember
As long as you live!

Would you like a fine pet?
Well, that's just what you'll get.
I'll get you the fanciest pet ever yet!
As you see, we have here in the heart of our nation
The official Katroo Birthday Pet Reservation.
From east of the East-est to west of the West-est
We've searched the whole world just to bring you the best-est
They come in all sizes...small, medium, tall.
If you wish, I will find you the tallest of all!

To find who's the tallest,
We start with the smallest...
We start with the smallest.  Then what do we do?
We line them all up.  Back to back.  Two by two.
Taller and taller.  And, when we are through,
We finally find one who's taller than who.
But you have to be smart and keep watching their feet.
Because sometimes they stand on their tip-toes and cheat.

And so, from the smaller, we stack 'em up taller
And taller.  And taller.  And taller and taller.
And now!  Here's the one who is taller than all-er!
He's yours, he's all yours.  He's the very top tallest.
I know you'll enjoy him, the tallest of all-est!
I'll have him shipped home to you, Birthday Express.
That costs quite a lot, but I couldn't care less.
Today is your birthday!  Today You are You!
So what if it costs me a thousand or two.

And so, as the sunset burns red in the west,
Comes the night of the Day-of-the-Best-of-the-Best!
The Night-of-all-Nights-of-all-Nights in Katroo!
So, according to rule, what we usually do
Is saddle up two Hooded Klopfers named Alice
And gallop like mad to the Birthday Pal-alace.
Your big birthday party soon starts to begin
In the finest Pala-alace you're ever been in!

Now this birthday Pala-alace, as soon you will see,
Has exactly nine thousand, four hundred and three
Rooms to play games in!  Twelve halls for brass bands!
Not counting the fifty-three hamburger stands.
And besides all of that, there are sixty-five rooms
Just for keeping the Sweeping-Up-Afterwards-Brooms.
Because, after your party, as well you may guess
It will take twenty days just to sweep up the mess.

And here comes your cake!
Cooked by Snookers and Snookers,
The official Katroo Happy Birthday Cake Cookers.
And Snookers and Snookers, I'm happy to say,
Are the only cake cookers who cook cakes today
Made of guaranteed, certified, strictly Grade-A
Peppermint cucumber sausage-paste butter!
And the world's finest cake slicers, Dutter and Dutter
And Dutter and Dutter with hatchets a-flutter,
High up on the poop-deck, stand ready to cut her

Today you are you!  That is truer than true!
There is no one alive who is you-er than you!
Shout loud "I am lucky to be what I am!
Thank goodness I'm not just a clam or a ham!
Or a dusty old jar of sour gooseberry jam!
I am what I am!  That's a great thing to be!
If I say so myself, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"

Now, by horseback and Bird-back, and Hiffer-back too,
Come your firends!  All your friends!  From all over Katroo!
And the Birthday Pal-alace heats up with hot friends
And your party goes on!
On and on
Till it ends.

When it ends,
You're much happier,
Richer and Fatter.
And the bird flies you home
On a very soft platter.

So that's
What the Birthday Bird
Does in Katroo

And I wish
I could do
All these great things for you!

Happy Birthday Howard!!!!

posted by: AmericanGirl at 17:18 | link | comments (2) |

A very famous psychic once told me that there is no heaven or hell, only different plains of existence.  I think he's right.  It's all very "Jonathan Livingston Seagull"-ish, isn't it?

 

Of course, I could be wrong.  But we won't know that until it's too late.

 

Sometimes I think that if there is a hell, this is it.  We're living it now.  You're born, and you spend your entire life seeking out relationships with other people, forming those relationships. loving those people with all of your being, only to lose them all, one by one.  You have to work in order to survive.  You have to deal with assholes, cancer, potholes, cold winters, hot summers, the non-airconditioned car on the subway, pink-eye, the common cold....it just goes on and on.  Puberty?  What's THAT about?

 

The thing is, those who don't really deserve to be in hell, the good ones, they check out early.  Which only increases the sheer awfulness of hell for the rest of us.  See?  It explains a lot.

 

This isn't really as negative as it seems.  Not for me anyway.  If this is hell, then this is as bad as it gets, and really, I'm quite adaptable.  I have an excellent life.  My family totally rocks, my husband is wonderful, I'm finacially secure, reasonably smart, I don't think too many people hate me, and I have Yankee tickets for the 4th of July.   Sure the things I have are all fleeting, in the grand scheme of things, and at some point I'll lose them all, but what can you expect?  It's hell!

 

I wonder what I did to deserve to be here?  I wonder what YOU did?  I wonder if we did it together?  I wonder what the good people are doing now?

 

I wonder a lot.

 

There was a time when I prepared a postcard to send to Postsecrets.   I'm not going to show it to you, but it said "I wish it was me instead of him".  I'm not going to show it to you because last night I ripped it up and threw it away.

 

It's just not true anymore.

 

I love my life, and I'm glad to be here.  I'm sorry that he died, but I'm happy because I know he's moved on to something so much better.  If I'm really really good, I'll get there someday too.

 

High hopes.  It's not about living by a book.  It's not about religion.  It's about being a good person.   And it's never been so crystal clear before.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:08 | link | comments (4) |

Ok, here you go - Coach Carlos (He's the one in the black shirt)

 

 

And for my next trick - swim instructors!!

 

Now I have a question.  Actually, I have two.

 

#1 - I got this joke on the stick of a popsicle, can someone please explain it  to me?

 

Q - What do you call a robot with no job?

A - An employed droid

 

What?  Is that a typo?  If it is, it still wouldn't have been very funny.  How unfortunate.  Some poor kid is going to go to camp this summer and tell that joke and be ridiculed.  Is there no one to proof read popsicle sticks?

 

#2 - What the heck are these people so darn happy about?

 

 

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:20 | link | comments (6) |

This blog is an angst-free zone.  No more family drama.  For a week anyway.  I've set a little record for myself.

 

So, my nephew has a soccer coach - Coach Carlos.  He's soooo handsome.  While I was watching them practice I pretended I was taking a picture of my adorable nephew, I really took a picture of Coach Carlos talking to some other kid.  I think this might be my new hobby - photography unsuspecting people on the sly.

 

So, who wants to see Coach Carlos?

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:43 | link | comments (3) |

I'm afraid that I'm going to be a bad parent because I'm so angry with my niece today.  Angry isn't even the right word; it's more like disgusted.  That's not even quite right, but whatever the right word is, it's no way to feel about a child.

 

I should be feeling sorry for her, but I can't.  The thing is, she went to the prom last night.  There was much drama this week, because the group of people we was going to the prom with was planning on spending the night in the Hamptons.  But she's younger than all of them - she's only 16 and only going to the prom because her boyfriend is a senior.   When her father told her that she couldn't go overnight, the drama began - with all the threats of how he was ruining her life and that if she couldn't go to the Hamptons she wasn't going to go at all, and your typical teenage angst.  But my brother was firm, even when her mother, Anna the Horrible, said "Oh let her go!".  Not because she's fully supportive of her young and proven irresponsible daughter spending the night out with a bunch of friends, but because while the divorce is going through, she wants to be seen as the "cool" parent.  She wants to be the one that the kids love.  Let them hate their father.

 

So after speaking with the boyfriend, man to man, a compromise was reached.  The boy assured the father of his girlfriend that he cared about her enough that he would pass on the Hamptons, and have her home by 2:00 AM.  There was peace throughout the land.  She went to the prom looking so pretty and sweet, and she ran back to kiss her father on the cheek before climbing into the limo, and made him feel as though he had just gotten through one of his toughest parenting challenges yet, relatively unscathed.  He was so proud of her for compromising, and he knew it wasn't easy for her.

 

Then she didn't come home.  Oh it's not at crisis point or anything, because she called this morning, and while there's a bit of a standoff going on, she's safe and that's the important thing.  But she didn't call before my poor brother spent the early morning hours calling every hospital emergency room on Long Island, all the police departments, looking for word on a prom disaster.  He didn't want to believe that she would just go ahead and do whatever the hell she wanted anyway.  He's one of the most cynical people I know, and he wanted to have faith in his daughter that she would do the right thing.  But she didn't.

 

I'm just fed up.  That's what I am.  I'm afraid that I'm starting to dislike her because she's exactly like her mother.  And that's scary.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:22 | link | comments (15) |

Last night I spoke to a childhood friend.  Our moms have been friends for years, so we were instant best friends from toddlerhood on up.  Life has taken us in different directions - her family left New York when we were in seventh grade, but we still talk every few months or so, always picking up right where we left off.  She's one of the few real true and true friends that I have.

 

She told me that her little brother left for Iraq yesterday.  While I kind of absorbed that she picked up on my silence and said "I know - he can't even make macaroni and cheese and he's off defending our country!"  It's just that I can't stop thinking about him as a little boy.  He had the unfortunate circumstance of being five years younger than us.  He'd tell you that we tormented him as a child, but really, it's the opposite.  He was a card carrying member of Cooties International.  (Today, he's the president)

 

But now he's all grown up.  I hadn't seen him for years and years, but when my friend got married, he was there - this grown man with that same little boy's face.  He seemed to have forgotten how very mean we were to him all those years, and I told him that I couldn't believe how grown up he was - what a man he turned out to be.  During the wedding reception he asked me to dance, and we danced.  Then, right in the middle of the dance floor reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a picture of us as children, naked as jaybirds in the bathtub.  He held it up out of my reach and then passed it around to all of his friends.  That's just the kind of obnoxious kid he was.  Was laughed a lot that night.

 

My friend asked him what he would like to have, so she could plan some care packages for him.  He said he would like an MP3 player.  She laughed, and said "Can you believe this kid?  I thought he would ask for some lip balm, or some candy or something."  And we laughed and without warning, she was crying.  It's that bridge again.  Laughter/tears - I'm not the only one.

 

Peter Peter, Booger Eater....come home safe. 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:10 | link | comments (4) |

Ok, Urthshu has tagged me with a book meme, in an attempt to make me look dumb.

 

What is the total number of books you own?

 

I have no idea, and I suck at estimating, so here:

 

These are the bookshelves in the hallway:

 

 

And the bottom of the same one:

 

And the other one, across from it and down the bend:

 

 

They're two layers deep, because the small paperbacks are all stacked in the back of each shelf.  If you see a title that offends you in any way, it's Ryan's.  Ha!   There's an entire shelf dedicated to pregnancy/parenting books, because well intentioned people won't stop giving them to me.  This also doesn't count the boxes of books in my basement and garage that haven't been unpacked in four years, but if it takes that long before I miss them, I probably shouldn't include them as
part of my collection.

 

What is the last book you bought?

 

I bought two at the same time, "Wicked:  The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West", and "Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister", both by Gregory Maguire.  I haven't read Stepsister yet, but Wicked was Excellent!

 

What is the last book you read?

 

Well, I have a few things going on.  I read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" pretty much every day, despite the fact that I hate it very much.  I also read "Your Pregnancy Week by Week" every week.  That one is ok.  As far as reading for pleasure, I've been browsing through "The Outlaw Sea" by William Langewiesche, but it mostly just puts me to sleep.  (As does everything else, these days)

 

Five books that mean a lot to you?

 

I would go with these:

 

The Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis  (Can I count them as one choice?)  Just because they are excellent.

 

Inside 9/11; What Really Happened, by the reporters, writers, and editors of Der Speigel Magazine.  I have read a LOT of books about 9/11.  In fact, I have probably read them all, and this one was by far the best account.

 

The Deeper Wound; Recovering the Soul from Fear and Suffering by Deepak Chopra.  I was totally irritated when someone gave this to me as a gift, but I did read it and it is interesting.  It includes a section, 100 days of healing, and it really makes you think.  Here's a quick example from a page I have flagged.  "Day 31:  I am not my body; my body is recycled earth.  I am not my breath; my breath is recycled air.  I am not my emotions; my emotions are recycled energy.  I am not my thoughts; my thoughts are recycled information."  So you see, everything is in flux except for your true self.  Gah, I've gotten off topic, haven't I?  Anyway, you get the point.

 

Islam and Terrorism; What the Quran Really Teaches About Christianity, Violence, and the Goals of Islamic Jihad, by Mark A Gabriel, PH.D. - I read this one in the same quest for information that made me read all of the books out there about 9/11.  It's written by a man who was raised a Muslim in Egypt, and converted to Christianity when he was an adult.  It answers the question "Why" better than anything else I've read.  It's sad and disturbing and it leaves you feeling hopeless.  In that sense, I'd say it would better fit on a list of books that have had a huge impact on me, rather than a list of books that mean a lot to me.  But meaning a lot to me doesn't have to be a positive thing, does it?

 

On a similar note:  Vanished, by Danielle Steele.  This is absolutely the WORST book I have ever read in my entire life, and I can't for the life of my figure out why her books are so popular.  It's always stuck with me because the ending was so positively stupid, I couldn't stop thinking about it.  The writing was fine and the storyline could have been fine, if the ending wasn't sooooo very bad.   For the record, I have similar feelings about any book that has every been written by Dean Koontz.  Why do people like that stuff?

 

Anyway, there you go - the good, the bad, and the ugly.  I suddenly feel very dull.

 

I'm going to tag Butterfly, Vernon, and Leigh.    Have fun!

posted by: AmericanGirl at 14:04 | link | comments (8) |

I would just like to point out that this:

Is NOT me.  I mention this because a long time ago there was an ugly sweater contest, and when I submitted Leslie's Hall's sweater collection, SOMEONE thought I was submitting pictures of myself in ugly sweaters.

 

Just so you know.

 

The real Leslie Hall, however, is a marketing machine, and she even has a new CD out.  You can also buy a T-shirt displaying her ugly sweaters.  Go figure. 

 

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:15 | link | comments (9) |

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

 

(I think I'll move to Australia.)

 

 

I'll be back later.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:10 | link | comments (10) |

I was thinking in honor of my 34 years on the planet, I would list 34 pieces of good news.   Problem is, there just isn't enough good news in the world.  So I've started a list, you add to it, and maybe we can all get to 34.  If not, I'll just start lying about my age.

 

Here goes:

 

PA Woman Wins Million Dollar Lottery Game...TWICE

 

Wheelchair Bound Woman Diagnoses Her Own Illness Online - Walks Again

 

Boy Saves Dad from Fire

 

Six Year Old Boy Raises Money for Cancer

 

Cutest Couple Ever Just Short of Longest Marriage Record

 

Good Samaritans Rescue Boy and Mom Trapped Underwater

 

Aimee Osbourne Clear of Cancer

 

Third Graders Call Local Soldier Their Hero

 

Laughing Burns Calories

 

U.S. Woman Youngest Ever to Scale "Seven Summits"

 

Man's Wedding Ring Found After 11 Years

 

Woman, 91, Teaches Purse Snatcher a Lesson

 

Ok, there's a dozen bits of good news to get started.  Now you share some.  

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:23 | link | comments (19) |

I know I said I wasn't doing any Thursday poetry anymore, but sad news has moved me to do so.  In fact, it's Thursday poetry on Wednesday.  (Apologies to Wednesdayers)

 

Heaven's Brigade

Did you know there's a Fire Department in Heaven?

I heard Cap tell that sorrowful lad.

The young boy stared, working over the words he'd just been given.

Cap, do you think God's got a spot on the truck for my dad?

Cap smiled, even though you could tell his heart was heavy, and said,

You bet son, as he roughed the hair on the boy's head.

Timmy looked up, his sadness, for now, gone.

Cap went on, holding back the tears that were trying to fall.

They've got the biggest, reddest fire trucks you ever saw,

And they keep them all cleaned and ready,

Just in case they get a call.

Of course they don't get many, Bein' in Heaven and all.

But God knew this, so right next to them He made,

A great big tree, that puts out a lot of shade.

And each day they have at least one run,

Down the streets of Heaven, leading the afternoon parade.

That's been years ago now,

And in that time, things have changed alot.

Cap, he's been retired, and I some how, made it to Chief.

And Timmy, He's just Tim now, down at station two,

And, I must say, one of the finest Captains on my crew.

The day came, the worst of any other,

When we have to say farewell to a fallen brother.

I watched, as Tim walked to that hero's son,

And share some words, just as my Cap and Tim had once done...

Did you know there's a Fire Department in Heaven?.....



~Author~
Assistant Chief KP
Boles Fire Protection District

 

RIP ~ P.L.  You will be missed

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:19 | link | comments (4) |

Kindred spirits only, please....

 

This, according to my horoscope, which can't be wrong, right?

 

Mars Trine Neptune
June 15th, 2005 - June 18th, 2005

Don't waste your time in surroundings you don't enjoy, or even in the company of those you don't consider kindred spirits. 
You need to be in an atmosphere that's conducive to comfort and security.  Find it, and get there posthaste.

 

Horoscope or not, that's just plain good advice, and goshdarnit, I'm going to follow it.

 

And then, the best part:

Venus Square Uranus
June 13th, 2005 - June 16th, 2005

Step away from the computer and the person you've been IMing who's definitely, absolutely, positively the love of your life. 
Or at least insist on a very, very recent photo.

 

Love of my life - you know who you are, and you know where to send the photo. 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:09 | link | comments (6) |

Someone was mean to me this morning.

 

So begins my journey into insanity.  It hasn't  been a short journey.  It's become apparent that my insanity has been building for quite some time.  But today it has come to a very abrupt...let's call it a blossoming.

 

So, someone was mean to me, and it's not important who or why or what they did.  It was just there, on my mind as I went through my morning, like any other day.  I had a conference call with a client who's cantankerous on a good day.  Plus my boss and three other coworkers, one of which - for reasons unknown, has decided to grow a really long goatee.  So long he could braid it, if he were so inclined. 

 

Backtrack a moment - last Saturday was my company softball game, which we lost.  We didn't just lose, we got spanked.  It was horrible.  This was mostly due to the horrible pitching of the Billy Goat Gruff AKA the coworker with the really long goatee.  At one point, another coworker told the pitcher with the really long goatee that he was ba-aa-aa-d, a reference not only to his animal-like goatee, but his pitching.  And I know it's not funny now, the way you just read it - but trust me, it was funny at the time.  So funny that we laughed for a good three hours, off an on, give or take.

 

So anyway, we're on a conference call, and I'm in a really bad mood, because as I said, someone was mean to me.  And then it happened - the client said "Oh, that's baaaaaad..." in reference to something completely unlrelated to the goatee, but over the phone I could hear a sniffle that could only be a sign of held back laughter, and I just lost it.  I had to put my phone on mute so no one would hear me laughing.

 

Now, I don't know about you - but my bridge between laughter and tears is really very short.  Like this one time, we were at a family wedding, and the progam specified that no picture taking was allowed.  Well my mom wasn't having any of that, so she thought she would just snap a quick picture during the ceremony.  What could they do? Throw her out?  So the ceremony began, and it was all nice and the bride was beautiful and I always, without fail, cry at weddings.  So I was having a nice graceful little weep and my mom snaps her picture, which was uncomfortably loud in the very quiet church, but mercifully quick.  And then, unbeknownst to her, it was the last picture on that role of film, so the camera started automatically rewinding, which is a loud, painstaikingly slow process that goes Rowr-ROWR-Rowr-ROWR...for a good two minutes.  She tried everything to stifle that camera, as everyone in the entire church glared at her, included the bride and Jesus himself, to no avail, and my gracefull little weep turned into laughter so hard that I really amost peed.

 

But I digress - point is laughter/tears - no big difference to me.  And like I said, someone was mean to me this morning.  And I am a walking pane of glass these days.  So, very suddenly my laughter over the "baaaaad" comment turned into these gut-wrenching sobs that couldn't be held back.  All the while on a conference call about the illumination, or lack therof, of transit shelters.  Not good.

 

And now for a run-on sentence.  Nothing gets your husband's attention quite like a sudden outburst of sobbing.  So now I'm half listening to a conference call and half sobbing and half trying to assure him that everything is perfectly fine, which he didn't believe, of course, but I couldn't really explain, so we were having this conversation where he was trying to get me to explain what was wrong and I was trying to explain that he was just making it worse when I realized there was silence on my phone - so I looked, and yeah - it's not on mute, and my boss was suddenly asking me if everything was ok and UGH...I'm totally going to lose my job.  And I've already lost my mind.  And my poor husband still thinks that the sky is falling and I'm just not telling him why, so he went out by himself, which makes me even sadder, but who can blame him?  I don't want to be around me either.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:12 | link | comments (4) |

I'm not going to go all political pundit on you, because God knows my currently feeble psyche couldn't handle it.  I'm also not going to entertain any "Left" vs. "Right" arguments because frankly I don't think all of the members of either party could agree on how many stars are on the flag, so I dislike arguments that lump them all together. 

 

But the 9/11 memorial needs to be about September 11th, the day and the people who died and the people who made it out alive.  It needs to make people remember what happened, not what led up to it, not what America's response was, and not even why it happened.   There is a place to learn about the abuse of Native Americans, and the War on Iraq, and Abu Ghraib, but this is not it.

 

It needs to make you think about this:

The view, from the South Tower, taken by someone who was lucky enough to get out alive.   Lucky enough to not have to have this be the last thing he saw before jumping to his death, because it was the better alternative.

 

Those people need to be memorialized and honored, not hidden underneath a museum about what we did to deserve the worst attack in American History.

 

The plan for the Internation Freedom Center is wrong.  Hence my new link, on the right - Take Back the Memorial.

 

Ok, political rant over.

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 19:23 | link | comments (2) |

This is the spider that I found in my sink this morning as I was brushing my teeth (Shown actual size)

Gack!  What IS that?  I'm positive that it's poisonous, (look at those horrible pinchers!) and I've had enough.  I want to move.  Yes, I'm moody and irrational.  So what?

 

On another, completely unrelated note, if you're trying to increase traffic to your blog, write something about Rumpledoodles.  You wouldn't believe the number of hits I've gotten.  I wonder if it's children?  I almost feel the need to be G-Rated.  I wonder why they don't just go to the Playhouse Disney website?  Here, Rumpledoodle searchers:  Project Playtime.

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:01 | link | comments (9) |

Who wants to talk about happy things?

 

I do.

 

Yesterday my nephew and I made Heffalumps, on bags:

 

You can't really tell, because it's in pencil, but he draws the faces upside down.  You can almost make out one eye, to the right of his trunk, and his smile is up top.  Is this some odd form of dyslexia?  Strange.

 

Anyway, you can't make Heffalump bags without making Rumpledoodles to fill them up with.  What are Rumpledoodles?  Well, they're cookies, but if you're a believer, and we are, they are the favorite snack of the Heffalump.  You should make them, they're good.  But eat them while they're warm, because after a few hours, they turn into rocks.  Maybe I should have covered them up. 

 

Here's the recipe, courtesy of Playhouse Disney.  And for your viewing pleasure, this is what they look like:

 

They have coconut in them.  Coconut haters, beware.  But they're really really easy, and I would know, because I had to make them twice.  For the record, that last ingredient is 2 tablespoons of boiling water, not two CUPS of boiling water.  You'd be polite to not ask why I emphasize that.

 

Do I win a prize for most apathetic post ever?

 

I like prizes.

 

I'm pretty desperate for proof that the world doesn't suck.  Anyone?

 

Anyone?

 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 16:05 | link | comments (4) |

What I want to know is this...

 

If you have the kind of personality where you're easily frustrated, and you have precious little patience, and you are prone to violent expressions of your own selfish anger, why in the name of all that does not suck would you get into the field of childcare?

 

For the love of Pete, go work for the postal service.  Be a bouncer at a seedy bar.  Heck, what do I care, become a police officer...but please, don't invite little people into your home while creating the illusion that you are an actual human being.  (No offense meant to postal service employees, bouncers, or police officers)  And not just any human being, but a human being who is stable enough to have precious little innocent lives entrusted to her.  It's certainly not even an easy job.  It's not an especially lucrative field either.  So by all means, if you're a monster, chose another profession.

 

And that's all I have to say about that.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 19:30 | link | comments (4) |

I just want to say that all of you people who saw "Revenge of the Sith" and didn't like it are totally crazy!  It was excellent!  I'll never trust your reviews again. 

 

We had a date.  We don't usually like going out to movies.  Homebodies.  But it was fun.  Coming off of a doctor appointment on Friday.  Anyway, fun stuff; dating.

 

I'm noticing that I'm making more typos than usually.  I might need glasses.  I don't think I can blame sloppy typing on pregnancy.  But it's not just a missed key here, there, and everywhere, it's dopey stuff - like I just typed the word "play" instead of "blame" in the previous sentence.  What gives?  Anyway, apologies for all the stuff I miss.

 

I have a question - I noticed that my blog got a hit from my own photobucket album.  This is odd - but it was specifically through one of the pictures in my side table.  Does that mean that someone has hotlinked my picture?  Does that mean that for fun I can change it from a little Yankees logo to something like...oh, say "I  Golden Showers", and it would show up that way where they've posted it?  THAT would be fun.  Heh.

 

So my doctor said "I see you've gotten your appetite back."  But she's wrong, see, because I have gotten the appetite of a sumo wrestler back.  I've made up for the weight I lost when I was sick, plus some.  So, it's officially time to bid adieu to my flat belly.  To do this in proper fashion, you have to appreciate the change, in pictures. 

 

The only "before" picture I have is of this fine young man piercing my belly button:

 

Ouch!   Good-bye flat, cute belly.  Good-bye belly button ring.  Apologies to the fine young man.

 

Hello, Baby!

 

Crazy, right?

 

For the record, this is it.  Any future requests to see my belly will be met with two words.  You First.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 14:15 | link | comments (18) |

Last night I was faced with a difficult challenge, because my evil ex sister in law attended my nephew's birthday party.  In the two minute walk over there, I told myself that I was not going to let her ruin this celebration for me.  My nephew will only turn four once, this was MY family, and I was not going to be made to feel uncomfortable. 

 

So when we got there I ignored her for as long as I could.  When she sought me out, I thought about "The Nightmare on Elm Street".  You know the part where the heroine, Nancy, turns her back on Freddy and states "You have no power over me!".  As a result, Freddy turns to dust and she wakes up, or something like that. 

 

Or maybe the movie I was thinking of was "Labyrinth"?

 

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered
I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City
My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great...
You have no power over me!"

(Poof!  The magic world implodes) 

 

Yeah, maybe that was it.  That reminds me, I forgot to post a poem yesterday.

 

Anyway, when she started with "I wanted to talk to you about something..." I know it wouldn't end well.  (It never does)  So I told her that it wasn't a good time, call me tomorrow to talk, because tonight, I'm playing with my nephew.  I said all that, but really, on the inside, I was chanting "You have no power over me... YOU have no power over me...."  Because really, if you think about it, someone can't make you angry or upset if you don't let them.  They put out whatever they put out, and it's up to you to decide how you want to respond to it.  Right?  She has no power over me!

 

And do you know what?

 

That crap doesn't work.  Who the hell takes advice on interpersonal relationships from horror movies?  What a dork I am.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 10:44 | link | comments (14) |

I'm thinking about chili, with corn chips in it.  Like Fritos.  Maybe like a casserole.  I've never had this concoction, but I know it exists.  Where do they eat chili like that?  In the south?  Does anyone have a tried and true recipe?  Is there one on the bag of Fritos, maybe?  I must have it.  Preferably a vegetarian chili. 

 

Last night I fell asleep on the couch.  One of the perils of having a husband who works 24 hours shifts.  Anyway, I fell asleep and I thought I woke up (but I didn't) and saw my brother sitting in the chair, holding a baby.  It wasn't my baby, it was his baby - his youngest.  I knew this simply because you "know" those types of things in dreams.  Anyway, we started having the typical conversation that you would have with someone you haven't seen in a few years, and I started to get sad, and he laughed and said "Stop it, you're gonna upset my nephew."  And in that same way that you know things in your dreams, I knew he was talking about my baby.  A nephew.  Do you think it's a boy?

 

The other baby, his baby - it's his birthday today.  He's FOUR!  I can't believe he's four.  He went to school today wearing a Superman cape, because he could.  He wore green boots, with frog faces on them.  His mom, Supermom, stayed up late making chocolate covered pretzels for his class.  They don't allow cupcakes for birthdays - can you imagine such a rule?  Anyway, other moms bring a box of donut holes from the supermarket and call it a day, but not his mom.  Chocolate covered pretezels covered in sprinkles.   She's so cool.

 

Remember my dishwasher fiasco?  Tomorrow is June 3rd, the day they're supposed to come and fix the thing.  They called last night and said the part was backordered, it'll be two more weeks. 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:06 | link | comments (10) |

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