is it just me?

well, that was awkward

2011-06-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

First, I would like to go on record saying how much I hate when people post fake letters as their facebook status. You know what I'm talking about - "Dear Rain, please stay away until after 7pm. Bobby has his cookout tonight! Love, Mary Ann". Ugh. I find them annoying. But this one from today really took the cake:

"dear gas, please stop costing so much. I am trying to save money and I need to go places. thanks, l"

Oh for pete's sake. Are you really having a fake conversation with GAS? About why it is so expensive? Honestly. Just say "I wish gas were cheaper!" Skip the cuteness. You're too old for that shit.

with this ring, I thee wed

A guy I work with got engaged a while ago. This is no big deal, except for I have known this guy for ten years, and I have never known him to have a girlfriend. And he went to graduate school here and no one remembers him having a girlfriend then, either. And he is in his mid 40s. So, when he told me he had a girlfriend, about a year ago now, I was kind of shocked. When I met her and she was nice and normal, I was more shocked. And when he told me, a mere 8 months later, that they were engaged, well...you get the idea. Lots of people thought he preferred to date men and didn't want to tell anyone. And we were SURE he would never actually get married to a real, live woman.

So, after the engagement, either because I seem like someone who is really super interested in weddings (not likely) or because he really didn't have anyone to talk to who cared (very likely), he talked to me about his wedding ALL THE TIME. Seriously, I could start a conversation about the weather, lazy graduate students, Libya or anything else and in less than five minutes we'd be talking about cakes and band and centerpieces and overbearing mothers in law. Fortunately, it was a short engagement. By the time he told me in February he already had a date and a venue for his May wedding, so I only had to endure four months of the conversations. And at least I would get a free dinner and (maybe) fun party out of the deal.

Not so fast. Despite wanting to tell me about shopping for his suit and choosing rings, apparently he did not want to actually INVITE me to the wedding. I realized this when several weeks before the wedding I had seen no invite. So, I figured I would let it go, but I would make it clear that I didn't really want to hear any more details of this fabulous wedding I would not attend. He came into my office and said "How's it going?" I said "Good - you? Getting ready for the end of the semester?" To which he replied, "Well, yeah, and you know - WEDDING PLANNING." So I nicely asked if he had sent invites and then I think he realized (after 3.5 months) that maybe it isn't so nice to discuss your wedding ad nauseum and not invite someone and he slinked off.

Two days later, he calls me into his office. From his backpack he withdraws what is clearly a wedding invitation. A last minute, b-list, wedding invitation with no actual address and crooked letters. AMAZING. So, we have a super awkward conversation, and I walk out. Did I guilt him into it? Should I feel bad? Or should he? Should I go or not? EEK. Now, this would be a bit of a quandary under any circumstances, but remember that I work in a parallel universe where no social norms apply, common courtesy and eye contact are TOTALLY optional, and general behavior defies explanation. So I was flummoxed. However, curiosity got the better of me and we went to the wedding.

It wasn't so great. In fact, it was boring. Too many cousins, and not the fun young cousins who drink too much and cause a fuss. A band not meant for dancing. Toasts full of inside jokes. Early departure by the bride and groom. Blah blah. But, he looked so happy. Because I think maybe he was starting to agree with the rest of the world that he might not get married. Especially not to a young, cute, funny, social, fit lawyer. But he did!

God I love a happy ending.

reality check

2010-11-17T13:15:00.000-08:00

The other day I was browsing a list of international events on campus. You never know when something interesting might come up, right? Well...there was quite the gem in store for me. Tomorrow at noon I could go to a talk titled "Unicorns in Ancient India and the Utilization of Their Horns for Making Vedic Ritual Implements". Unicorns. UNICORNS. Um....they know that unicorns aren't real, right? But what happened was that because I don't get enough sleep and I spend too much time alone in my office, I got all confused about unicorns. They aren't real, right? RIGHT?

The trouble is, if you are sitting in your office wondering about things like the existence of unicorns, you can't very well walk down the hall and ask someone. Why? Because doing things like that is what makes people call you crazy. You start asking about unicorns and you are going to get a visit from some nice guys in white coats who just want to 'talk'. Talk about how you are three shades of crazy, that's what they want to talk about.

I am half tempted to go just to see what they have to say for themselves. Depending on how it goes over I will be making a presentation about the role of Santa's elves in the melting of the polar ice caps. Stay tuned for details.

hahahahaha
In other news, I dutifully dialed a conference call number today and was greeted by "This call costs $2.99/minute. If you are under 18, please hang up RIGHT NOW. Welcome to Intimate Connections." Whoops. So I assumed I dialed wrong, tried again with the same result. Unfortunately, I then hit redial just wanting to check the number to be SURE, but was too slow and therefore I likely have three minutes of charges to a phone sex line on my work phone. Spectacular. I will say, though, that the image of all the other adult male academics who made the same mistake was totally worth the $3/minute even if I have to pay it myself.

my kid is better than your kid.

2010-11-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

Which makes me better than you, apparently.

Did you know parenting is a competitive sport? Well, once you have kids you will find this out. All of a sudden people you barely know will be interested in what your child can (and perhaps more importantly, can’t) do and all of this will be put on a secret scorecard next to their child. They will also hold you responsible for the fact that your child is not interested in walking or didn’t choose broccoli as their first food. The worst part about this is the psychological havoc it wreaks on new, sleep-deprived, fragile moms. You will quickly fill yourself with guilt and worry about whether or not you are doing the absolute most correct best possible thing for your child at all times. You will find yourself punishing yourself for how much they like graham crackers (oh, the empty calories!) or how bad they are at writing the letter y (goodbye, Harvard!). You will be sure that the fact that you never purchased an exersaucer is the reason your baby still isn’t walking, or the fact that you did purchase an exersaucer is why they are flat-footed. I mean, it is ENDLESS.

And if you stay home with your kids you want me to know that this means you love them more than people who work, and if you work you want me to know how amazing your childcare is. And if we both work then you want to prove to me that your childcare is better than mine. The problem with all of this, other than the fact that it is a) boring and b) annoying, is that it makes us all feel bad. In fact, we all feel bad a lot of the time, even though we really have nothing to feel bad about. I, like everyone else, am doing the best I can. With my life, with my kids’ lives, with keeping it all together. And sadly, I don’t get stars on my chart for all the great things I do, but that doesn’t mean I need to go around begging for those stars, or making you feel bad for not doing the same.

Moms love to say things like ‘oh, I don’t even know what that is – we don’t watch tv’ or ‘we don’t do juice’ or ‘I only believe in rewards that don’t cost money’. And if it was presented simply as information, that would be fine. But it isn’t – it comes with the insinuation that this puts them on some sort of higher moral ground. Am I glad my kid likes broccoli? Sure I am. It’s good for her. I believe in vitamins. Do I need to tell you about it? Nope. Is it necessary to make you feel bad that your kid doesn’t? Nope. My younger child eats about five foods in the whole world, and you can bet that none of them are broccoli. In fact, they are all white or beige. Or candy. So, I know that it is not some miracle of great parenting that has led my older one to eat vegetables. She likes vegetables. Hooray for her, but far be it from me to judge you by your kids.

I just find that I get so exhausted by the looks people give and the things people say . Yes, I did just give my kid that sandwich he threw on the floor of this dirty restaurant. Yes, I am going to drag her out of her kicking and screaming about how I am not her friend (thanks for that, Baby Liz. We were at the LIBRARY). You know why? Because that is what works, or at least what works for me right now. And we all know that we have to do what gets us all through the day in one piece. Sometimes it is not pretty, but at the end of the day I did the best I could.

I participate in an early morning workout with a bunch of women. One of the reasons I like it so much is that while it is competitive in a healthy way (can you catch the person in front of you on the hill?) it is not competitive in a judgmental way. I may weigh 50lbs less than you but you might be able to do 20 more pushups than I can. Some are faster, some are stronger, but everyone is doing their best. People are encouraging, and supportive, and fun. We actually high five with straight faces! We encourage each other and push each other. It is almost completely judgment-free. And I think so much of that is missing from our relationships, with our friends, with other parents. My good friends don’t try to compete with me, but the everyday casual encounter (or facebook status update) has become this relentless one-upsmanship that is wearing on us all.

So go, feed your child homemade gazpacho made entirely from items that you grew yourself, and enjoy it! But don’t make me feel bad about my own choices. Stop keeping score, stop trying to make yourself feel better by making other people feel worse, and I think you’ll find that you are a lot happier.

Oh, and one more piece of homework: compliment more. None of us give enough compliments, and most of us are very self-deprecating about receiving them. So next time you notice that one of your friends looks like she’s lost weight (or has a good haircut, or a cute new sweater), tell her how good she looks! And if someone compliments you, don’t make excuses, don’t downplay your own success, just look them right in the eye and say ‘thanks!’ Try it. You’ll like it.

shake it

2010-06-04T11:25:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that the last time I posted about Zumba I was saying I would never do it. I have a funny story: Now I do zumba. The end. Just kidding! That's not the end. Oh no, my friends, Zumba is a source of almost as much fodder as facebook. And if I spent as much time doing Zumba as I do making fun of people on facebook I would probably be a lot skinnier. Alas.

Anyway, I started going a while ago and I will say that Zumba is fun. It is a totally crazy workout where you do these highly coreographed "dances" to (mostly) latin music. The instructor doesn't really talk, so you just follow along which means it is less annoying and infinitely harder to figure out what the hell is going on. The good part about this is everyone is kind of having to pay attention to the teacher and themselves, so they don't notice that you look less like you are doing the salsa and more like freaking out because you have a bee up your shorts. This is good for me because I am not very flexible, and not that great of a dancer, so I like the idea that no one is watching. However, judging by the amount of time I spend watching other people, the truth is that everyone is watching.

Now, I have spent my fair share of time inside a discoteca, and sort of get salsa, meringue, a little bit of cumbia, etc. I am very good at following a beat, and pretty good at remembering things. However, I possess absolutely no sexy. If someone were to describe me, they would never use any of these words: cute, nice, sweet, or sexy. If they use any of these I can say either they don't know me, or they are lying. Back to the point: my favorite zumba instructor is heavy on the sexy. She is in absolutely amazing shape, and kind of makes me feel terrible about myself. However, she seems really nice, and she teaches a hell of a class. But there is a lot of grinding and shimmying, which is not my forte. This is sort of a zumba option, and you will find some instructors that take a very Shakira approach, and others that are clearly dance team graduates.

About the dance team - since I go to zumba on campus, there is a whole lotta former dance team up in there. They are easy to spot. First look for the perfect ponytails. Dance girls do their hair, even for working out. Maybe especially for working out. Then there are the short shorts, since they are used to wearing lots of lycra short shorts probably feel like bathrobes. And pointed toes. They all point their toes and hold their hands in nice formation. These girls comprise about 25% of one of my zumba classes, and they are boring.

The next 25% is a surprising demographic: Asian women. I am not kidding. Apparently, Zumba is very popular with Asian women on campus. I am not entirely clear on why this would be. Many of them wear really crazily inappropriate attire. Like, Skecher mary janes that were certainly never meant to be workout shoes. However, there is one crazy little vixen who seems to own a LOT of really short, really tight shorts, some of with say things like "New York Funk" on the ass. And then she wears these tiny strappy tank tops, with her non-sports bra showing. But let me tell you something - that little mama can shake it! She gets going and feels it! I can only wonder what her mama would think if she saw all that funky going on, but hey! That's why we move out of our mamas' house, now isn't it.

Now, the next 25% is made up of a surprising demographic: people wearing religious t-shirts. Well, I guess technically there are only two, but this post is getting long enough already. Several weeks ago I spent an entire class of Zumba Plus behind a girl whose shirt said AMEN on the back. I kept trying to see what it said on the front, but never did. Then yesterday I was next to a girl who was wearing a shirt that said iFast with a fake Apple logo on the front, and Ramadan 08 on the back. Since when do religious holidays generate souvenir t-shirts? How odd. However, both girls wearing said t-shirts fell into the demographic of 'surprisingly good at zumba despite outward appearances'. The amen sistah looked like the girls from my HS softball team. Note that these are less the Jenny Finch/hot girls from ASU and/or USC and more, well, everyone else who plays softball. She was kind of boyish, but could knock some zumba moves out of the park. Which is what is great about zumba - it is quite an equalizer. And Miss Ramadan also made me laugh, since she was there shaking it while wearing a t-shirt for a holiday which I think of as a bit more chaste than shimmying to someone singing 'now we're going to get a little funky'.

The final 25% (so far it's Asians, Surprisingly Goods, and Dance Team) are the 'maybe nots'. Where the questions is 'should you stand in the front row?' and the answer is maybe not. Included in this group are people with no rhythm, people who think they are excellent dancers but aren't, and creepy guys. (Actually, there are only two guys in the class that I have ever seen, and neither one is creepy.) This is epitomized by a girl (woman?) I have dubbed Tennis Barbie because the first few times I saw her she was wearing a tennis skirt (think Justine Henin not Billie Jean King). She is quite tall and blonde, though not quite of Barbie proportions. She is very enthusiastic, and likes to add lots of ... extras, usually with unfortunate results. There is a lot of bouncing, and no shortage of enthusiasm, and for that I say, hat's off. Zumba your socks off.

One funny last story. Several weeks ago, as I walked in a woman was talking to the instructor before class. The instructor said "don't worry, just relax. it will be easy!" and I figured the woman was nervous about her first Zumba class. I noticed her because she looked familiar, and soon I realized that she is the Brazilian girlfriend of a graduate student I know. So, I watched her a couple of times and she was amazing. I mean, not only was her choreography perfect, but she was even adding her own little elements, all of which were great. So I thought - what on earth? How can this be her first class? I mean, it could be correctly argued that a Brazilian might have a leg up (haha) given their musical heritage, but still. The 'salsa' song in Zumba bears very little resemblance to actually dancing salsa. So, as I am paying more attention to her, I am increasingly distressed about my own poor skills. And then, all of a sudden, the teacher calls a bunch of students up onto the stage - including the brazilian! HA! Turns out she is a total regular, and what she was nervous about was doing it onstage in front of everyone. Phew.

Anyway, if you want to get exercise and laugh, go to Zumba! I can almost promise you won't be sorry.

it doesn't get much more random than that

2010-05-17T08:41:00.000-07:00

When we still lived in Boston, Mr. Lizard knew a guy named Jim. They had met at MIT (Mr. Lizard is a clever lizard) and then ran together. He was very, very weird. This was sort of a theme for the people that Mr. Lizard knew at MIT, as I know since I lived with FIVE of them upon my arrival in Boston a million years ago. Anyway, this guy was particularly unusual. It was accentuated by the fact that he had 1.5 front teeth, but he refused to get it fixed. He said this was because he knew exactly what was involved, and how precise they had to be, and how easy it would be to screw it up. Um...similar arguments could be made against almost anything surgical, yet somehow we trust, you know, professionals.

Fast forward, and somehow Jim also ended up in Madison. I saw him in a campus deli many years ago. He was with a girl, which was surprising, who was cute, even more surprising. He was still running, and tried to get Mr. Lizard to join a track club. We were astonished to hear they got married, as she seemed kind of normal - heavy on the kind of, since she was marrying this guy. Anyway, at some point he got a new tooth, they got married, and decided to stay in Madison.

They used to live in a town south of Madison, and he would run to and from campus. This is not a short nor a scenic run. Occasionally, I would be driving down the road and Jim would run by with his backpack on, looking weird and headed home. We never talked to them on purpose. But somehow (I blame facebook) we got invited to their housewarming party. They have bought a house about a mile from ours. So, we packed up Baby Liz in her stroller, and El Segundo in his backpack, figuring we could go, snoop, be nice, and use the kids as our excuse for an early exit.

The party was suitably unusual, though had the trappings of a normal party. When I said the obligatory "this is a nice place you've got!" Jim said, in the very formal tone in which he speaks about everything, "Well I appreciate your saying that. We think it is a very solid house. Well built." In fact, I think he actually bought the house mostly because it would not fall down. What an exciting reason!

I went into the living room to see about getting some much requested cake for Baby Liz (until she discovered it was carrot cake at which point she immediately shifted her focus to the cookies nearby). These two very blond EXTREMELY friendly women stood up, and introduced themselves as the 'hosts'. What on earth?! I found out later that they were the realtors, but at the time I was nothing but baffled. Why are their hosts? Especially when there are only 20 or so people? I think I am going to have 'hosts' at my next party just to give it more cache. In any case, they definitely did not look like all the other guests. With a husband in physics and a wife in psychiatry you end up with quite a cast of characters.

Anyway, after we went upstairs for a tour (which was suitably bizarre, and during which El Segudo laid on EVERY bed and climbed on every couch and chair)we come down and one of the realtors is now wearing running clothes. Presto change-o. They say they are going for a run on the track, which is right across the street. This strikes me as highly unusual. I wander out back and lose track of Mr. Lizard. But when I find him again, I jokingly ask if he is joining the run. He says "Yeah! I can't pass up the chance to run with (insert name of famous Olympic runner)." Holy crap. The nutty realtor is her? And in fact, she is. So now we leave a party for people we barely know to go across the street for a run. Mr. Lizard decides he can run with her WHILE PUSHING THE JOGGING STROLLER so he, Jim, random party guest and Olympian start trotting around the track. And I look around and think - what the hell just happened? They go around and around. She is giving them tips, showing how to elbow your way through a pack, all kinds of stuff. It is easily one of the most random, surreal evenings we have had in a looong time. And when they are finally done, we head back to part, pack up the babies and hit the road. And that, my friends, is why I love Madison. Because where else would you find a friend from 13 years ago, walk to their new house, meet an Olympian, go for a run and head home?

feeling awkward? have some coffee!

2010-04-13T08:29:00.001-07:00

a while back I posted that I thought the end of coffee was coming because the chair didn't want to pay for it. Except no one really knows that he pays for it. So, last Thursday a note goes out from one of the administrative staff asking for volunteers to bring treats on Friday. Before anyone can answer, the chair (who obviously didn't realize that this was going to happen) sent a reply saying he is "not tapped out yet - even after taxes!" and that he would bring the treats. So, now it's even MORE awkward, if that is possible, because people kind of know he doesn't want to pay for it but is now pretending he DOES want to pay for it. The student association nicely volunteered and the whole thing made me so confused that I skipped coffee hour altogether. So, it lives to see another day. Are you bored of my coffee saga yet? I am, though I never cease to be amazed by the social ineptitude around this place.

The chair of our department makes a lot of money. At least, a lot more money than I do which unfortunately for me is true of a LOT of people. But anyway, in the grand scheme of america he makes plenty of money. So I had to laugh the other day when I saw him and his wife at the grocery store. They were on their way out, I was on my way in. He was shuffling along with his cart when his wife said "Oh darn! I forgot to use my coupon." Without turning around, he waves his hand as if to say 'forget about it' and keeps shuffling to his car. He looked like a broken, 80 year old man. He is not young, but he is not 80 either. As he wanders off, muttering under his breath, his wife goes back in to get her refund for her coupon. For BUTTER. Butter? Really? I mean, what is the maximum amount you think you can save on butter? A dollar? And that would be a really good coupon. I am betting 50 cents. And yet, she decides it is worth a whole extra transaction to go back inside, talk to the 14 year old customer service rep, and get her refund. For 50 cents worth of butter. That is why I will never be rich - I am way too lazy to spend that kind of time on 50 cents. But maybe that means that Mr. Lizard will not be waving me off and muttering under his breath in five years. And if I can save myself that future it is totally worth 50 cents.

mmm....ham

2010-04-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

This weekend I spent Easter with my outlaws. Since my MIL is Jewish, she is not so into Easter traditions. She is a big sport about hiding eggs and the like, and apparently also dyed eggs with her kids years ago. So when it came time for lunch, which was nothing remotely like Easter dinner but instead was chicken wraps, I joked "Guess we aren't having ham biscuits, eh?"

To me, this is a normal thing to say in conversation. To her, apparently, it was akin to my suggesting we lick our boots for lunch or something. She said "Ham BISCUITS? You're kidding." I was so thrown off that I said absolutely nothing. How can she not have heard of ham biscuits? It's not weird. It's ham. On a biscuit. It's like a sandwich. Only smaller. And...hammier. And yet, she had no idea about this food product. I wrote it off as a casualty of Judaism, but decided to do some research.

In a highly unscientific sample, I am yet to find ANYONE who is from WI and has heard of ham biscuits. Imagine if you said, "For my birthday, I will have cupcakes!" and everyone around you said "Cupcakes? What the hell is a cupcake? I have never heard of such a thing? Is it cake in a cup? What on earth. This is lunacy." And you sat there scratching your head because you know that cupcakes are very delicious and commonly eaten in many places. And yet no one had any idea what you were talking about. In fact, one person I asked said, "Well, my sister-in-law makes ham BALLS. But I have never heard of ham biscuits." REALLY? You would rather form meat into balls than put it on a slice of bread?

I think no matter how many years I live in this crazy state, Wisconsin and I are destined to sit there, looking at each other, scratching our heads and thinking "weird".

sit back, relax, and try to enjoy the flight

2010-03-11T13:29:00.000-08:00

As I see it, there are a few very basic pre-qualifications for engaging in international travel. 1) You must have access to at least $500. I know that you can find cheap flights in Europe, but I am talking about flying from the US to another country, and let’s face it – if you can get somewhere for even $500, good for you. 2) You must either know someone in another country, or enjoy travel. If you don’t have a reason to go, you don’t go, right? So, one would imagine that international travel therefore requires some basic level of life competence, if you have accomplished both 1) and 2).

Not so. I went to Rome last month for work. To be honest, I was kind of looking forward to my flight. Why, you ask? Let’s face it: I do not get that many hours to myself. Even fewer when I am not facing a list of things that I should be doing. So, many hours on a plane with no children in tow and very little that can be accomplished was sounding pretty good. You know, until I got on board and remembered what flying is like.

I sat in my seat that I had paid a little extra money for that morning to get myself a window seat (not my internal middle row horribleness assigned to me by my lovely airline). I will say, this was totally worth it, especially since I picked my seat quite late and was able to find one without anyone next to it. Believe me when I say I did not realize how valuable this was.

Seated one row in front of me and across the aisle is a woman who is already making a lot of requests and commotion, before the plane has even boarded. Turns out that somehow she put medicine that she needs (for her HEART, people) in her checked luggage. Did you hear that? Her checked luggage. Which she checked a whole airport ago. She has now boarded the plane, realized that she needs it (?!?) and is trying to get it. Now, if I were the airline people I would not have been that nice, and considering how rude they are when you ask for, I don’t know, WATER I thought they would tell this crazy old bat to go eff herself. But they were looking for it.

Despite the fact that they were looking, she kept telling them “I have HEART problem. I need my medicine.” Then they tell her that IF they find the bag, she will have to get off the plane and look through it to get her meds. Which means we’re taking of, um, never. Then she says “I am wheelchair. I can’t walk.” You’re kidding, right? You’re in a wheelchair, but are flying to Amsterdam (yay, my favorite airport) from Detroit, and somehow you checked medicine that is keeping you alive? Uff. So they actually find the bag, and when the time comes, despite having announced “I am wheelchair” about fifty times, she GETS UP and WALKS down the aisle. What on earth. I mean, I guess I am glad she didn’t croak, but seriously?
After we take off, she asks if she can move seats. The stewardess says that yes, she can move to an empty seat. However, she has an aisle seat with an empty seat next to it. Why would she move? Because she is tired, and wheelchair, and heart problem and she would like THREE seats together so she can sleep. Well, wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t we ALL like three seats? And when the flight attendant (again, very nicely) informs her that there aren’t three seats together anywhere she acts super put out, as though they had told her they wouldn’t be offering oxygen on today’s flight. Mercifully she fell asleep. Interestingly, I am not sure I ever saw her take medicine.

But there was a better one. A couple rows in front of me, there was an ancient man. I think he was about 136, but I can’t be sure. He had nice coke bottle glasses, and a seriously dazed expression. He was apparently on his way to Delhi, via Amsterdam. However, this was very confusing to him, and he kept trying to get off, because they were reporting that the plane was going to Amsterdam, and he was sure he was going to Delhi. I am thinking that perhaps this man should not have been allowed to fly alone. The stewardess agreed with me, because she asked the guy sitting next to him to, effectively, BABYSIT. I think she said ‘keep an eye on him’. Really? This means that the $50 I paid to not have a seat partner is actually worth a zillion dollars, because it meant there was no chance I would be asked to babysit an ancient Indian guy. Which, being honest, I have absolutely NO interest in.

This guy was hilarious. He sort of wandered around the whole time. The flight attendant would check in with the babysitter and say “is he gone again?” and then at one of the points where they tell you it is quite important you stay in your seat, he just got up and walked off. HA. And you could tell that the babysitter was thinking ‘I did not pay good money to have to chase someone else’s grandpa down the aisles’, and therefore did not take his duties very seriously. Fair enough.

What I want to know is what happened to that guy once he got to Amsterdam? How would he EVER in a million years figure out how to get on his next flight? I mean, if you’re going to be wandering around lost in an airport, allow me to recommend Amsterdam. First of all, there are lots of really friendly people there. And lots of good food, and a museum, and a meditation room – so if you ARE there for the rest of your life at least you can attend to your nutritional, entertainment and spiritual needs. However, it is confusing. And big. And if you are trying to get off the plane because the concept of connecting flights is very confusing to you, I am guessing you could have some trouble. Who knows, maybe he is still there. Part of me thinks he wouldn’t mind.

So then I went to Rome for like five minutes, and saw a few sites but mostly worked and stuffed my face with food and wine. And then I flew home on Alitalia which is easily the world’s WORST airline. In fact, if I had the choice between having the Indian guy on my lap, and Alitalia, I would have to think about it. They woke me up by throwing a moist towelette (and I just had to type that because it is two of my least favorite words ever, combined into a single wretched product which was used as a weapon against sleep) at me. That’s right. I was asleep, which was clear, and they threw it at me, hard enough to wake me up. Nice. They also had horrible video, which was sad because I was hoping to get in some movies on the way home. There was one screen, which was tiny and a million miles away. And I couldn’t find what channel played in English. So I asked the stewardess and she said “I think 5. But I don’t know. Isn’t that funny? I don’t know!” And rather than ask someone, I never saw her again. So, Alitalia: don’t do it. I mean ever. At all. For any reason. You're welcome.

um, you're busy that day

2010-01-08T12:12:00.000-08:00

the guy across the hall is a real jerk. I mean, deep down I actually think he is a nice person, but on the surface he is a jerk. And has terrible social skills. However, I feel kind of bad for him for a variety of reasons, including the fact that his wife has cancer again. She had it years ago, it really REALLY almost killed her, and now it is back. One would think that this would be his singular focus, but it really isn't. He's here all the time, traveling tons for work. Not what I would do, but that is his business. However, I just overheard (and you do NOT have to be snoopy to overhear things around here, not at ALL) him calling to ask her what time her surgery was on a particular day. Because someone asked him to give a talk, and he wanted to know if he could fit it in. You can tell she is offering for him to not be there, or perhaps to reschedule, and to his credit he said that no, he would be there, but he did pause. I mean, it is a stupid talk and certainly not worth missing any surgery. And their relationship is clearly bizarre enough that 1) he would try to squeeze in a presentation on the day of her potentially life saving surgery and 2) that they would have an awkward conversation about it. And so, when I say I probably shouldn't work here too much longer before all of my social graces and ability to interact with society have completely disappeared, now you know what I mean.

As an example, my in-laws (well, one set of them - perhaps the worst part of divorce is that down the road your children will marry and inflict their spouse with not one but TWO sets of in-laws) came to visit. Mr. Lizard's father is self-employed an interacts mostly with children. His stepmother is also self employed and works as a social worker/counselor/whatever you call it, and interacts mostly with people who sound pretty unbalanced. They live together, kind of, though they live quite separate lives. Very separate, in fact. Anyway, after their visit we were discussing why they are so...unusual, and we decided that it is because they do not get enough social feedback. So they just sit there becoming weirder and weirder, with no real checks on the system. Which makes them think it is okay to come to your house, which has a lovely guestroom and well equipped kitchen, toting a fan, a spare comforter, a sleeping bag, several random bags of groceries, some lasagna that is supposed to be for dinner but is frozen solid, 98 tea bags, three suitcases and lots of dog hair. And they don't like to do normal things. Grandma wanted to take Baby Liz "on a field trip to the grocery store". Not the library, or the museum, or some other kid place. The grocery store. And Grandpa kind of just wanted to take a nap. They eat like wolves and pay little to no attention to what is going on around them. And we thought - let this be a lesson to us to never get too far removed from the world of manners and social consciousness. Because that really is the beginning of the end.

a baby! a baby! a baby!

2009-12-15T08:02:00.000-08:00

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, Baby Liz does not watch a lot of TV. This isn't really because of some moral high ground on our part, we just never offered much TV and as a result she does not have much of a video attention span. However, if she finds a show that she likes, she wants to watch it over and over and over and over. The same episode. No other episode will do. So one day a while back we innocently stumbled across an episode of Dora the Explorer titled "Big Sister". Seemed appropriate, so I started it on for her and (probably) went to cook dinner. What I failed to consider was that this episode would then need to be watched 8 gazillion times. I would know every word of dialogue, every annoying inflection of that giant-headed girl's voice. I would sing the songs in my sleep and I would see their faces in my dreams. Forest, farm, Dora's house!

So, in viewing #472, I started noticing just how jacked up the plot was. The basic story is that Dora's mom is having a baby. It starts with Dora telling her monkey friend, apparently she can't get real friends, that her dad gave her a cell phone so he could call her when her mom was going to have the baby. WTH. How old is Dora? Seven? And her parents send her out into the forest with a cell phone? So then, the phone rings and her dad says "Come quickly! Vengan RAPIDO!" So then she has to consult a map to figure out how to get home. Really? You're an explorer and you need a map to get to your house? And if you knew the baby was coming why did you venture so far away? Then they do the Dora formula which is you have to go through two places and then your destination. They repeat this over and over because I guess kids like being able to remember shit? Or something? Anyway, first they follow a snake through a spooky forest. At some point they help someone fix a go-cart. Then there's a nut farm with all these little worker squirrels. Completely bizarre. All the while talking about how excited they are about the baby, but if they were so excited why didn't they wait at home??

Anyway, Dora finally gets home. And I guess maybe because they live in the jungle (I think) her mom has not gone to a hospital and the babies are totally born at home by the time Dora gets there. However, her ENTIRE family including cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles are all already there waiting for her when she gets there. They all say "Dora! You made it!" Again, WTH. All those people went to see the baby and no one could stop and give the 7 year old a ride? She had to find her way through a forest with a snake? And then the babies are cute and cooing and they sing to them for five seconds and they fall asleep. And we all know that is exactly how life is with newborn twins.

Of course I know that Dora is not really supposed to be based in reality, but I can't help but wonder if Baby Liz watches it and thinks, really? Because when my mom had a baby we went to the hospital in a car. And my baby brother was not cute and smiley. Though, the other day my stepmother-in-law was driving Baby Liz home from the grocery store and got lost and Baby Liz directed her home. So, maybe she is learning things after all. And clearly I need to learn to tune that shit out.

that's gonna cost you take 17
The new chair of my department decided we should have Friday morning coffee together. You know, get together, talk about...whatever it is we might have to discuss with one another. So, he planned it and he brought treats. And if you offer people treats at 10am in their place of work, you will get a lot of takers. But for some reason, he thought everyone would know the he wanted us to pay for it? Let me tell you one thing about economists: they are cheap. And if they think you are giving them something for free they will not offer to pay for it. So now he's sick of paying for it and is going to ask people to pay. But the other thing with economists (who are kind of jerky, if you didn't know) is that if you have once given them something for free, they are not going to want to pay for it. Which means end of awkward coffee hour. YAY!

that's going to cost you

2009-11-04T08:11:00.000-08:00

At a house near mine that we drive by nearly every day, they are often giving away things for free. It is never anything I would want, but I have learned not to be astonished by what people will take when it is left for free on the street corner. And so, all the random crap they put out there inevitably disappears. But my favorite part is that they have a sign, made of posterboard and attached to a stake that says "Free Stuff (except sign)". I am not really sure who they think wants the sign, but apparently people really will take ANYTHING you leave on the street corner. Which is a good thing to remember the next time one of my dependents is driving me crazy.

sense of humor

2009-10-23T09:44:00.000-07:00

At some point I realized that if there is someone I don't really care for and I can't figure out why, odds are that it is because they don't have a sense of humor. I cannot deal with people with no sense of humor. And I prefer people who have excellent senses of humor. I know, everyone SAYS that, but I think it is more important to me than the average person.

So, through email and facebook people can show you things that they think are funny. I like this because it sort of shows their true colors in terms of humor. Some people I am pleasantly surprised. And others, well, it turns out that their true color is beige. Oh well.

apparently

2009-10-22T12:40:00.001-07:00

I can take a facebook quiz to tell me my chances of catching swine flu. I am sure it is really, really accurate.

tough times

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? We are lucky Chez Lizard because although my pay has been cut (thanks, State of Wisconsin!) I still have a job, as does Mr. Lizard. And we can still pay for our house and our food and our health insurance. So, you won't hear any complaints out of me. Apparently at least one of my neighbors (and lots of other people I know) are not so lucky:

The other day I came home to find an invitation to our neighborhood association meeting. I was quite sorry not to be able to attend, as I find super local politics very charming. However, included with the meeting notice was a brochure of services offered by our neighborhood association president. I sort of wish I could post it in its entirety so you could fully appreciate it, but instead I will recap.

It is a husband and wife team. The wife has a funny hyphenated last name which, as she says is pronounced like "of course we have met". What on earth. Anyway, it sounds like neither of them is working. This is a shame because she has THREE advanced degrees. That's right, three. She has 1) a Ph.D. in theatre, which strikes me as a very odd thing to get a Ph.D. in and is probably why she has 2) as master's in clinical psychology which seems like a good degree to have and does nothing to explain her having 3) a law degree. So, a Ph.D., a master's and a law degree and no job. Oi. He is a registered architect. So, with all that brain power and schooling they are now offering....babysitting services?

That's right! They babysit kids, seniors, pets and houses, according to them. Now, I think it is fine to fall back on basic skills, and I have no issue with that. What I do have issue with is this (a direct quote from their pricing structure):

One caring adult: $10/hr
Two caring adults: $16/hr
Newborn (0-3 months) +$2/hr
Each additional child +3/hr
Meal prep $1/child (+feed us)
Meal clean up $1/child (loading dishwasher, wiping table, etc)
Formula/bottle prep +$1/bottle
Taking kids to activities in your car +$1/kid/trip
Kids under 10 awake after 10pm +$2/hr
Meds and clean up +$ negotiable

Seriously, there is a list like this for every activity. And while I don't begrudge your right to make a living anyway you see fit, I don't think you should be trying to get rich babysitting. Let's see, for an average evening I would be paying $13/hr before they did, well, anything. I would pay $2 for them to feed my kids, $1 for el segundo's nighttime bottle, $2 to clean up the dinner plates, and $1 for el Segundo's medicine. So, I'm looking at about $60 for an evening out. On the other hand, a lovely, highly qualified college student will drive herself to my house, watch my kids, feed them, play with them, put away dishes and overall be of service for a hassle free $10/hr. And high school girls will do it for less than $7. And I won't have to do 15 minutes of math, after a 27 question survey, just to figure out how much to pay. Did you feed them? (+$1) Did you wash the plate? (+$1) Have you already made me forget how much fun I had away from my kids because I have to get out my calculator? (-$1zillion)

I am surprised they don't charge for stories read. +$1/per book. Songs sung? +$1/song. Putting on pajamas? +$1/per hand or foot inserted in clothing. Pulling up blankets? +$2 unless blankets are wool in which case +$3. They also chrage $20 to visit your cat for 15 minutes per day. What a bargain! They will tutor your high school student for $40/hr. Their son will mow your law for $20/hr.

Apparently the prices are negotiable, depending on how easy your kids are and whether or not they like you (I am paraphrasing, but seriously that's the gist of it). Oh, and they don't like to check email (though they list an email address) and they don't like their cell phones (but give you their numbers). Pretty much a bored lawyer with time on her hands went crazy creating this ridiculous contract, basically guaranteeing them that no one will hire them because it makes them seem like a huge pain in the ass to deal with. I am sure they are nice people and if I met them I might feel differently, but someone who's going to charge me $13/hr to babysit and then refuse to pick up my kid because she's over the 35lb limit is a no go in my book. But the name of their business is WE CARE. And I'm sure, deep down, they do.

tuesday

2009-10-20T12:41:00.000-07:00

1) if you have a picture of yourself and the accurate caption is "me at Applebee's" and it literally is JUST a picture of you at Applebee's and you are thinking of posting it on Facebook...don't.

2) If someone has a note on their door that says "Will return Oct. 27" do you really need to knock AND check that the door is locked before you decide they are not there?

3) Why do aerobics instructors insist on hearing you do things? "I can't hear you clapping!" Who gives a shit? Listen to the music and leave me alone. Group clapping is dumb anyway.

4) You know how people (myself included) often end email "If you have any question, please contact me?" Is it okay to contact them and say that your only question is "Why are you so stupid?" Or is that frowned upon?

tiny triangles of deliciousness

2009-09-22T08:33:00.001-07:00

I enjoy many foods that come in triangles, as they often seem to involve fried exteriors, but this time of year I am reminded of my favorite triangular delicacy, candy corn. I have quite an unhealthy fondness for those little tri-colored morsels. I mean, I love it. A lot. I could eat a lot of candy corn. However, eating candy corn is about as close as one can get to eating pure sugar. Perhaps Pixie Stix are closer, but really, candy corn is right up there. It is basically made up of nothing but sugar, and if that weren't enough it is then dyed suspicious colors, filled with things that make it stick together and last forever in a plastic bag (though its shelf life is never tested at my house) and that's it. In fact, here are the ingredients of my preferred brand (and you know I have a preferred brand): Sugar, Corn Syrup, Salt, Honey, Soy Protein, Gelatin, Confectioner's Glaze, Dextrose, Artificial Flavor, Titanium Dioxide Color, Yellow 6, Yellow 5, Red 3, Blue 1.
Titanium dioxide color? Yikes. But look at that, it's FIVE kinds of sugar, dye and chemicals. And yet it is sooooo tasty. So, I allow myself one bag of candy corn per year (the big bag) and usually eat it soon after Halloween candy hits the shelf because let's face it - I have been waiting a long time! The only downside is that I cannot eat it when Baby Liz is awake because she has supersonic hearing for any junk food wrappers, and eagle eyes for the packaging. And don't try to sneak one, because she will smell it on your breath and say "I smell something" and she is smart enough to know that what she smells is something very, very tasty and she will not rest until she has one of her own. And since I do not need my kid hepped up on FIVE! kinds of sugar at once, I eat them after she is sleeping. However, then mama is all hepped up on sugar. I really should not consume any sugar or caffeine after about 4pm. I can literally be lying awake at midnight and trace it back to a poorly timed fun size bag of m&ms I ate on my way out of work. Seriously. So, the result is I will be lying in my bed awake savoring happy memories of recently consumed candy corn for the next several days, until my bag runs out. However, it will be worth it. So, so worth it.

fashion forward? or backward?
as I have mentioned here many, many times, my workplace is not a bastion of good fashion. No, not at all. The only thing saving us from complete horribleness is the rare grad student who arrives with a sense of good taste. The other day I was walking down the hall, and one of said grad students was there in a pair of skinny jeans which actually looked really good (hate that) and a hip t-shirt. Blond hair, good accessories. Overall fashion thumbs up. Meanwhile, walking toward me was a new female professor in typical Madison chic which has a tendency to involve too much yoga/performance clothing, a heavy does of Merrells, the odd linen pant and some funky plastic glasses. And as I sat there I thought, am I more skinny jean or boxy linen? And the truth is it depends on the day, but I fear there are starting to be too many days when I am very Madison and not enough days when I am still kind of cool. I do console myself with the fact that I am better off than about 70% of the moms (and that is a conservative estimate) at her daycare. However, I cannot let that be an excuse to head to the dark side of comfortable, functional clothing. So if you see me on an off day just say "wisco, have some respect."

wash your hands
I know, it's flu season. And it is going to the the WORST FLU SEASON EVER. And you'd better have a plan for what you are going to do when we all start dropping dead from the flu, because it is coming. And it is going to be the WORST FLU SEASON EVER. Dude, I get it. I work on a college campus where students sneeze everywhere and don't wash their hands and live in close quarters and lick each other spread disease like crazy. And my kids are little petri dishes who go to daycare and lick toys and their friends and whatever. However, if one more person/sign/website/whatever tells me to wash my hands I am going to lose it. Enough, people.

Though, when the IT guy (you know, the one who comes in your office and touches your mouse and your computer?) admitted to me that he doesn't wash his hands ever, I immediately went out and bough Computer Repair for Dummies in order to achieve self sufficiency. And when the host of a weekend cookout admitted he was getting over "just a touch of the flu" and was about to cook my dinner I was not all that thrilled. I am not stupid. And my hands are clean. Now excuse me while I go lick something.

what on earth

2009-09-15T14:07:00.001-07:00

This just came in to my email inbox. It was sent to every single person affiliated with my department.

Hi All!

Who ever borrowed Mr. Broom from Room 405, please return it. Mr. Broom has work to do.

Thanks,

five things

2009-07-21T13:49:00.001-07:00

here are five things that don't make you better than me:

1. you eat fruit for dessert
2. you don't watch television
3. you ride your bike to work
4. you don't drink soda
5. you've read all the books on that dumb facebook list

so off your sanctimonious wagons, people. I'm over it.

recent and random

2009-07-08T10:51:00.000-07:00

tag, you're it
I have been meaning to post forever about laser tag. I have a group of friends and we go out once a month for girls' night. Usually this just involves dinner and drinks (right up my alley!) but some people like to spice it up. We tried karaoke which was kind of a bust because it was super early and we were not nearly drunk enough and the bar was empty. And then a couple months ago someone picked laser tag. And I will admit, at first I thought 'I think I have to wash my hair' because I am really not a laser tag kind of person. In fact, anyone who knows me is probably chuckling at the mere idea of my playing laser tag. I am much more tag sale than I am laser tag (actually, maybe not - I have no idea what a tag sale is but you get my drift). But, I decided that the world is more fun if you will try anything once, so I did. We went to the place which is staffed by geeky guys who probably play a LOT of laser tag. They take you into this room and explain the rules, though not very well, but they tell you how to get points. Then you get a vest and a codename. Mine was Cobra, which I think is not very fitting because I pretty much never do anything that even vaguely resembles striking. I am kind of lazy. I am not stealthy. I hate running. And I am not very competitive. HOWEVER, I am not stupid and I am a good listener and rule follower. And they told me that if I shot out the base I got a shit ton of points. So I went in there and had a blast shooting my friends but I also shot out the bases. Lots of them. AND I WON. And it devastated the planner of the game since she was sure she would kick my ass (as was I) but I came home and proudly displayed my score sheet that said GAME RANK:1 and made everyone call me Cobra. And I will say this: laser tag is super fun. Go play. You will like it.

dedication
If you are a smoker these days, you really need to be dedicated to smoking. I mean, really dedicated. Because you can't do it anywhere comfortable outside your own home. No more casual cigarettes at the bar with your drink. No more after dinner smokes. No sir, you will need to put on your jacket, and move your butt (both kinds) outside. There is a lady who works in a building somewhere around me who is very devoted to smoking. She surely has been smoking since the days when you could light up in the operating room and no one would bat an eye, but she does not let the ordinance bother her. Every single day, I see her sitting in the same spot on the same bench, smoking. This winter when there was tons of snow she cleared out a little spot for herself, and I think even had something to sit on to protect her from the frozen bench. Today it was raining and here she was with her cigarette and her umbrella. And a book. She always has a book. She must get a LOT of reading done, because she is already out there for her first break at 9am, and I promise that's not her last. So, Phillip and Morris should thank her kindly because that kind of dedication is rare in this day and age.

grammar police
I'm not even sure if this is a grammar issue, and in general I am not picky. My grammar is bad. It has its faults. However, there is this one Wisconsin thing that really, really drives me crazy. Very crazy. I understand there are regional differences in vocabulary. You know, bubbler instead of water fountain, parking ramp instead of parking garage, pop versus soda. That's fine. It's endearing. It makes America more interesting. But around here people say borrow when what they mean is lend. For example "Can you borrow me your pen?" I know what your thinking: "WTH? That makes no sense." And you're right. It makes no sense. And I still get confused when people say it. Yesterday I was walking to my car and this kid is on his cell phone saying "Yeah, you remember how I borrowed him $300 last semester? Well, he finally finished paying me back." People. This is not a cute regional difference. This is improper use of the word borrow, and it must be stopped. Immediately. Thank you. Oh, and if I ever catch me, Mr. Lizard, Baby Liz or El Segundo using the word in that way, we are moving immediately.

facebook
It has been a while since I posted a facebook grievance. My current pet peeve? People who post lots of self portraits. Seriously, I have three "friends" (and in facebook land I use that word very, very loosely) who do this all the time. I don't need to see 20 pictures you took of yourself from different angles. I really don't. And neither does anyone else. And to the girl from high school who posts a motivating quote every day? Stop it. Please. (I know, I should just hide her but I keep thinking maybe one day she will make me laugh. That's really all I want from anyone.)

so I have this friend

2009-07-02T13:33:00.000-07:00

and she went to a bachelorette party. And at the party there were games, and if you won games you got prizes. So this friend of mine wins a little vibrator, and wrapped up in the package is a brochure 'Tips for First Time Vibrator Users'. So, because she is drunk my friend throws this stuff in her purse, and pulls it out a few days later. She puts the vibrator away but somehow leaves the brochure on the bed. Which wouldn't matter until a contractor comes by that very afternoon to look at redoing her bathroom and walks through the bedroom. And he probably wouldn't have noticed except for my (I mean my FRIEND's) two year old picks it up and says "what's this mama?" and mama says "oh, nothing" and throws it on the bedside table upside down. So perhaps all would have been forgotten except then two year old carries it in to the bathroom where mama is talking to said contractor and says "can I color on this?" and mama says "yes, you can color on it using only the beet red of my face." Poor friend.

dude, I'm telling you.

2009-06-16T09:43:00.001-07:00

I have further proof that Wisconsin is a stand in for all things random. I am reading the book It Sucked, and then I Cried by the lady who writes dooce.com. I just started and it's okay (not nearly as funny as the David Sedaris book I just finished which you all should read asap) but she's talking about naming her baby and says she doesn't want to give it a name that "some baby in Wisconsin could have". I am not even sure what that means, but once again poor Wisconsin appears in a light that cannot really be considered favorable. alas.

who are the people in your neighborhood?

2009-06-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

I live in a nice neighborhood. Not fancy nice, but quite lovely. It's an older neighborhood with lots of trees and kids and old people. I like it so much that when I sold my awesome old house I bought a new one about six blocks away. Several weeks ago, on a lovely early summer Sunday evening, we decided to take the kids for a walk. We packed them up and headed for the park. Just as we rounded the corner a few blocks away, we saw a man in camouflage carrying his gun. Because we are naive, and because this is Wisconsin, we thought "oh, a hunter". But we thought it was weird that he was carrying his gun. And then we saw another one. And another. And we realized that they were policemen, not hunters. (At this point we also realized that we clearly are not destined to survive in any vaguely dangerous environment and should plan our lives accordingly.)

We start looking around and everything gets creepy. The policemen are sneaking around yards, and people are standing on their stoops looking nervous. We keep walking down the street, but just as we are about to turn down a little secret sidewalk to the park, we decide to ask someone what's up. Um...turns out that some guy allegedly killed his ex-wife, was on the run, and they thought he was hiding at his mother's house. His mother lives next to a park we frequent, but not surprising we don't know her as it is several blocks away. The park is closed, there are snipers on garages, and the whole thing is very dramatic. So, since we cannot go to the park do we do what any sensible person would do and take their tiny children home and lock the doors? No, we do no such thing. We decide to just WALK TO A DIFFERENT PARK. Because, you know, the bullets can only go in the one park. Or something. In retrospect it seems so, so crazy but at the time it made perfect sense. Because we do not live somewhere scary so I think we were so surprised that we had no idea how to act. So we're walking through the neighborhood, and there's command central with no fewer than 20 police vehicles. There are unmarked cars parked all over the place watching, and we even saw this huge armored vehicle that looked like it belonged in a war zone. And there we are, strolling along. Wearing fashionable targets on our heads.

They didn't find him that night, but I was out running errands a few days later and my friend called to say they were looking for him again, in a different park on the other side of my house. The park where my husband had walked our dog that very morning. I start trying to go home (this time to lock my doors with me and my babies inside) and all the roads are blocked off. This time I am appropriately freaked out. Baby Liz goes to school in our neighborhood and they were not allowed on the playground. I pulled down all my shades, because we all know nothing bad can happen in your house when the shades are down. They did find him, but he was not alive having decided to just end it there in the park. Believe me when I say I have not been there since.

While this was going on, they kept interviewing this guy's crazy brother on TV. Apparently he also lives in my neighborhood (yay) and owns a wolf (double yay). So who the fuck ARE the people in my neighborhood? Scary people, that's who. The other night I was grocery shopping at about 8pm on a Monday, and in the produce aisle I come across the crazy brother. I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised since everyone needs to eat, but it was weird to see him there inspecting bananas. And my favorite part was that he had the little ad circular and was looking for deals. Because even if you are crazy and your brother is crazier, and thanks to your exceeding willingness to be interviewed now the whole city knows it, you can still save 25 cents on toilet paper.

I feel much better now
After all that foolishness we were looking at our neighbors a little more carefully. But my faith was restored. A couple weeks ago, we were walking home and someone was mowing. Baby Liz covered her ears, but I thought nothing of it because these days she covers her ears at anything louder than a normal speaking voice. A week later, we are walking by again and they guy is mowing again. He stops the mower and says "is it too loud for her?" and because the whole sensitivity to noise thing is kind of annoying to me I say "She's fine" and they guy says "I saw her covering her ears last time, so I'll stop." And he did. The whole time we walked by. How nice is that?

You missed a spot
On our walk home we also pass by a guy who is always picking something up out of his yard. I can never see what it is. Tiny weeds maybe? Leaves? Air? But there he is, every day, picking "them" up and putting them in a bag. And if that isn't a good advertisement for not retiring too early I don't know what is.

Thanks for the offer
HA! This is another story from walking home. We walk home a lot, and since it takes us half an hour to travel three blocks at the speed of a two year old, we see a lot of people. One day I was chatting with a guy who seemed nice. He let baby Liz pet his dog. (I didn't want to touch it because it was old and old dogs skeeve me out.) He walked away, but then let us catch up and seemed kind of nervous. He said he was a videographer, but was trying to get into photography. He then offered me a free photo shoot of the family so he could practice. No free photos, though. It was a nice offer, and on a scale of one to ten I would say my interest was a five. He gave me a card. He said he didn't have one for his video business, but this was his other business. It was some kind of uber religious newsletter and after that I was afraid he would try to brainwash me so I never called him. The end.

welcome mat

2009-06-03T10:58:00.000-07:00

In the distance between my parking ramp (ha! that's what people here call parking garages and after eight years apparently it has finally stuck with yours truly) and my office, there are five separate large scale construction projects. Five. Every day my eyes get filled with grit and my pants get dirty and I come close to being killed by three large pieces of machinery. All before 9am! Clearly no one sat down with a comprehensive plan and thought 'hmm...if we do all of these at the same time it will really screw commuters!' Or maybe they did and thought it would be funny? Anyway, now it is time for all 8 zillion incoming students to come to campus for orientation and registration. I sort of love it because you get to see all these high schoolers walking around with their parents desperately trying to be cool. But I also hate it because they are bad drivers and get in my way since they all park in my ramp. This morning I am sitting in my car waiting for this giant truck filled with dirt to get out of the way, and there amidst all the debris, mess, and genearl chaos there is a small plastic sign that says 'SOAR Parking. Welcome to the University of Wisconsin'. ha. Welcome indeed.

Yesterday I was waiting to cross the street, and the construction that is in the middle involved this excavator (I think, I need to start studying truck names in preparation for El Segundo's obsession with heavy machinery that seems to be genetically programmed in all boys) was banging giant iron supports into the ground. It was about as elegant, though infinitely more effective, as the way Baby Lizard smashes nails into her little toy toolbox. Anyway, I am staring at them along with these two other guys, and I faced a common dilemma of mine: do you talk to strangers about public things you are both looking at? Like, do you mention to the other person at the bus stop that the bus is late? Or if someone walks by in a vegas showgirl outfit can you commiserate with a fellow passerby? Anyway, since we're stuck there waiting for a walk sign I say "It sort of seems like there should be a better way, doesn't it?" One guy looks at me with a very blank expression, but sort of smiles. Kind of reminds me of the way El Segundo looks at me a lot. Like "I have no idea what you're talking about lady, but you are the one with the boobs so I will be nice about it." And then the other one says in a completely crazy accent "Necessity is the mother of all invention!" HA! It only kind of makes sense, though is quite a good comeback to a context-free unplanned interaction in your second language. At that point I notice a break in the traffic and decide to Frogger cross it, leaving those two looking at me like 'what the hell just happened here?'

feeling lonely

2009-06-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

email inbox kind of empty? Well, just post that you have some free diapers on craigslist and watch the emails roll in. I did this, because I had some that don't fit el segundo. And truthfully, someone probably would have paid me $5 for them but it just wasn't worth it to me to deal with all that foolishness. If you offer them free you can just say come get them, and if you don't come get them I will give them to someone else. You don't have to count how many or talk to whoever wants them. But nothing brings on the crazies in an economic downturn like free diapers. So, they are gone. This caused me to be browsing craigslist, and that is a crazy place. I mean, do you really think someone is going to drive two towns over to buy your newborn outfit priced at $2? Or your Harley Davidson onesie? I'll tell you: no they are not. It's this bizarre combination of people selling things for super cheap and people who erroneously think they can make some real money off of the crap they have in their basement. And don't even think about not posting a picture. They trick you and post a catalogue picture but theirs is all faded and gross and ruined. You know it is, otherwise they would have posted a picture of the real one.

Yesterday our neighbors had out a stack of free stuff. There were these big foam puzzle pieces of the number that you can put on the floor like a mat. In a quick look, they seemed good. So we put them in the stroller, and the whole walk we were pumping them up to Baby Lizard, talking about her new puzzle. But when we got them home we realized that they don't really fit together into a mat, and the number 6 is missing. Baby Liz looked at them skeptically. She asked why the 10 is missing the '1' and where the 6 was. And then she walked away. She knows a shitty present when she sees one. It's funny, becuase she has started asking when I give her something 'new' whether I got it at a store. I think she is figuring out that lots of her 'new' clothes come straight from her cousin's closets or from a garage sale. heh.

thanks for thinking of me

2009-05-29T08:23:00.000-07:00

my boss is having a graduation party for his kid. He did not invite me. But I think social graces say that if you do not plan to invite me to your party you shouldn't talk to me about it. I don't want to know what you're going to eat and drink, since I will not be having any. I also find it funny that he admitted to me that there will be 100 people there. One HUNDRED. And still I am not invited. And one might say "well, if he invited you then he would have to invite everyone from work" and blah blah blah. There are two problems with this statement: 1) he did invite people from work. 2) I am his only employee. So, pretty much he could invite me and no one else. The good news is that your boss' kid's graduation party is not exactly the event of the season, and truthfully I would probably rather eat hot dogs with my kids, but it's the principle, people. Social conscience. Try to get one.

Perhaps even worse than this is that we are facing not getting raises for the billionth year in a row because of state budget issues, but my boss got a big raise and he now makes more than four times what I do. And I have to punch those numbers into budget spreadsheets, and let me tell you it makes me cranky every time.

2009-05-26T18:54:00.001-07:00

nothing makes me want to post quite like the new department administrator who is two months from being a grandma and somehow thought it was okay to wear a denim mini skirt to work. um...it's not okay. it was a really dated one. like maybe I had it in 8th grade. Who knows, maybe SHE had it in 8th grade.

So, how have you all been?

notes from the inside

2009-02-25T12:10:00.001-08:00

The inside of my house, that is, where I spend entirely too much time. I have been meaning to post for ages, because funny things happen even when you're home all day with a tiny squalling baby. Or at least things that seem funny when you're home all day with no one to talk to.

El Segundo
I have decided that will be the blog name of my new baby. Baby Liz #2 just wasn't doing it for me, so he will henceforth be known as El Segundo. Only here, in life we won't give him such an inferiority complex. Anyway, he started off as kind of a wretched baby who cried and screamed a lot. It made us tired. And sad. And finally we decided to take him to the doctor, because maybe he just had a bad attitude, but on the off chance that it could be medicated I was quite interested. So, turns out that he had acid reflux which is basically killer heartburn. As someone who suffers mightily from heartburn while pregnant, the unpleasantness of this was fresh in my mind, so I felt his pain. Now he is much nicer. In a moment of desperation, I also took him to the chiropractor. He worked some voodoo on him which also seemed to help, and now he's a nice little happy baby. We love him. Isn't he cute?

customer disservice
Yesterday my phone rang, and the caller ID showed that it was my clinic. So I answered, and an electronic voice told me to hold. That's right - they called ME and then put me on HOLD. What on earth. After waiting a while, they tell me that no one is available to talk to me, so I have to call them back. So why did you call me? I mean, would you ever call someone and immediately say "I'm super busy, but call me back"? No you would not, because it makes no sense. So, in the process of telling me to call back, they give me my 'case number' which is about 8 billion digits long. Of course I don't get it written down because I didn't have a pen because I usually TALK to someone when I answer the phone. And they say it a grand total of one time. Stellar. Anyway, I called them back but was too tired to berate them about their stupid calling system. But not too tired to bore you people with the details! No sir, the lucky readers here get all the good stuff.

love on TV
As I mentioned earlier, I watch a fair bit of daytime tv. My kid likes nursing. A lot. I mean, it is his job, his hobby, what he does when he's not doing his job or his hobby. If he had his way he would do it all the time. So I will confess here that in a moment of boredom and total weakness (and before I started really making use of my DVR) I watched a show on VH1 (I think) called "Double Shot at Love". Now, I only saw about 15 minutes or so, and was not entirely clear about what was going on. However, it appears to be a dating show where the people that everyone is dating (the equivalent of the bachelor) are bisexual twins who have had copious amounts of plastic surgery. Seriously. So, clearly no one is actually going to fall in love because that is about the most outrageous thing. I think they just pick one twin, and the twins are trying to act like they actually care about winning which of course they don't. And I know it's not really supposed to be about finding love, but the whole thing was so outrageous that it almost made me sick. I mean, they take the twins home to meet their families? And are like "Hey, I'm dating bisexual twins!" And one girl decided this was the right time to come out to her family. On TV. It is really, truly awful. Oh, and just in case the whole thing wasn't outrageous enough, the twins wore stripper outfits to meet this dude's mom. And the guy is like "The outfits were perfect." Yeah, perfect for the world's most disturbing show which appears to have no redeeming qualities. Maybe if the people were funny or interesting or something it could at least be enjoyable, but after 15 minutes I decided I could not waste a single other second of my life watching. And that is saying something, as the vast majority of my days are wasted doing very, very little.

The Bachelor isn't going to find anyone either. Fortunately I have not stooped to watching that trash, but I saw an interview with him and allegedly he's in love and it's FOR REAL people, but you know what? He met her on TV in a fancy house with lots of liquor, and somehow I just don't think it's going to work out. But good luck to them all.

octomom
If you think you find the mom of the octuplets interesting, just try being on maternity leave and bored. You will be obsessed. You will spend hours out of every day wondering why anyone could ever think for one single second that it would be great to have eight newborns at once. Because let me tell you, newborns are not that much fun. And you know what is less fun than one newborn? Two. And you know what is less fun than that? Eight. Especially when you have six other children under the age of 7. That is nothing short of pure insanity, and that is why I spend so much brain power trying to figure out why on earth she would do such a thing. I will sit here and be very glad that both of my kids came one at a time and that there are only two of them. And no matter what happens in my life it is not possible that there will ever be 14 of them. Ever.

big
So, fortunately I am not that big anymore. Bigger than I used to be, but compared to December 6 I am a waif. But the lady at work who was so fond of telling me how big I was on a regular basis is now pregnant. And I am pretty disappointed that my maternity leave is costing me three good months of making her feel like shit about how she looks. She is also annoyingly OCD and emails me silly questions about carseats and pediatricians. Look, we're not friends. You're weird and not very nice. So I am glad that now you feel we can bond about babies and big bellies, and the like, but I really am not in the mood to talk you off the ledge about whether or not you should drink coffee or whatever. I have Double Shot of Love on the DVR. I am very busy.

the usual
It was humiliating enough when I was just a regular at the campus grill. But I will admit here that I have developed quite a fondness for McDonald's (well, I always had it but have been indulging it recently) and I think the guy there recognizes me. This is horrible. I need to stop. Even worse, he gave me this creepy look the other day like the thought I was flirting with him. Um...no. The look on my face is the utter humiliation that you know me and my special McDonald's order. Boo to wiscolizard. The thing is when you have a tiny baby you have a newfound love for drive-thrus. Anything that saves you from lugging that horrible carseat around. Especially when it's cold. Why can't GOOD restaurants have drive-thrus? Perhaps because good food doesn't fit neatly in a bag?

shoot. I had a bunch more things that I wanted to post in here and now I have forgotten. I definitely need a notebook now that my brain is being sucked out of my boobs drop by drop (that's a scientific fact. look it up on wikipedia.) and I can't remember where my car keys are even when I am driving. If I remember you all will be the first to know.

tis the season to go crazy

2009-01-05T19:44:00.000-08:00

the holidays make people crazy. My in-laws can make me crazy. New babies and no sleep make you crazy. So, when you combine a two week old, a week with the in-laws, and the holiday season it is a recipe for a serious meltdown. Just to make sure everything was a total mess, my baby literally did not sleep on Christmas eve. And then I was trying to make Christmas awesome for my two year old, but really I was too tired for awesomeness. So, by the end of the day we were all pretty much totally spent and ready to throw in the towel. BUT we rallied and all's well that ends well, right?

little orphan annie
Prior to the holidays, I had a week with no visitors when mr. lizard was still kind of working and baby lizard still had daycare. So, I did what all new moms do - not much. For some reason, my neighbors decided that 9am was a good time to visit someone with a new baby. Let me tell you - it is not. Of course I was still in my pajamas. I mean, 9am is actually kind of a reasonable time to be in your pajamas, but when you don't have to go to work and you have a tiny baby, you may or may not be in your pajamas all day. Anyway, since my dog was barking like he wanted to kill someone and they were not going away, I finally went down. They brought me a gift, which was nice, but they could have brought it at, say, 4pm and it would have been even nicer. Anyway, the woman had her two year old with her, who was terrified of my dog (understandably, though he is very nice). I have my baby who is kind of crying and probably needs to eat, and so it's a bit of a circus. I sort of want them to just leave me alone to my nursing marathon, but my neighbor really wants to hold the baby. However, she can't put her kid down because of the dog and I can't control the dog because of my baby (see? total circus). Her solution? Not go home and try again another day. No sir. She instructs her two year old to stand on the porch and wait while she holds the baby. Did I mention it's 20 degrees out? And the kid is TWO YEARS OLD? Her crazy mom even says "go stand out there like a little orphan and you can look at the baby through the window". What on earth. So she shoos her out and SURPRISE! she starts crying. Which I totally could have guessed. I finally insist that she let her back in, because the whole thing is pure insanity. Mercifully, they leave a few minutes later. Uff.

My other neighbors who are probably in their 80s also wanted to come by. I was attempting to nap downstairs, baby Liz was dutifully napping in her bed, and everyone else was gone. I am half asleep and hear something, crack an eyelid and see them but they don't see me with my eyes open. So I quick close them figuring they will see me sleeping, and leave. But no. They knock. My dog goes ballistic (there's a theme here) which wakes up baby Liz. So, now she's in her room crying, my baby is not all that happy, and again I have a dog I can't control. I might have killed them, but they seem so sweet. She proudly reported that she bought my gift in October. It was a pair of tiny slippers that look kind of like santa hats and say "Mommy's Little Joy". My nap was ruined for those. And for some reason she bought them to fit a one year old. So, they will never get used. Ever. Baby Liz is screaming in her room because she has woken up too early, and yet they stand there and ask inane questions that I really don't feel like answering. And that nap can never be recovered. If you are contemplating waking a napping mother of a week old baby, do not do it. I am pretty sure that if they kill you it is justifiable homicide.

A final note about people knocking. The mailman came and I was nursing. I would have ignored him, but I see him kind of looking at me as he is preparing to leave a thingy to sign for a package. I figure I will save myself the hassle of dealing with it later, so I throw a blanket over the baby and answer the door. He is scared the dog will escape, so I go out on the front porch. He seems really nervous, and to this day I don't know if he was freaked out about the dog or the exposed boobs. But when you nurse 16 hours a day, really you don't even notice whether or not your girls are covered, and you kind of stop caring who sees them. He gets out of there as fast as he possibly can. I think I caused him to consider a career change. I saw him in the bagel shop the other day and I think he recognized me. I am pretty sure I saw him blush. haha.

beer girl
I worked at a bar on campus when I was in college and I refused to mix drinks. I just served beer, and was therefore known as beer girl. I also like to drink beer. A lot. So I was more than a little horrified the other day when baby liz said "what mama doing?" and I said "drinking beer?" and she laughed and said "no, mama's a girl." She thinks girls can't drink beer! This is terrible! I carefully explained that lots of girls drink beer and one day she can too.

okay. that's all I have for you for now. all this typing is making me tired.

there's a new baby lizard in town

2008-12-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

which means not much posting. not for lack of time, so much, but when your life consists of sitting home all day with a tiny alien that just eats and sleeps it's really not that interesting. I can tell you that tv during the day is really horrible. I mean, truly awful. Though, I insist on watching Martha Stewart just to make myself feel bad about my total lack of holiday craftiness. In fact, as proof that I am a totally broken mom the one big present I was going to get for baby liz #1 I finally got around to ordering and now it won't be here in time. Good job, mama. Seriously.

Want to know why having a baby in December in Wisconsin is a bad idea? Because on the day you are supposed to go home from the hospital there will be a huge snowstorm. And then it will get so cold that it sounds like your house is going to shatter into a million pieces, and just when you are contemplating actually leaving the house you will realize that it is 13 degrees and snowing and you will think "fuck it. we can use dish towels as diapers if we have to." and you will promptly sit your butt back on your couch and watch some bad tv show with a baby attached to you. good times.

don't bite your friends

2008-12-04T10:57:00.000-08:00

That is a song in a crazy new show that Baby Liz is obsessed with. I really have nothing to say about it aside from the fact that it seems like relatively sound advice.

the usual
On Fridays the student union has a tuna melt special. I eat it every Friday. I am not really the kind of person that does the same thing every week, but for some reason the tuna melt just gets me. I think it is because you can only get it once a week so I feel like I need to seize the moment. Or something. Anyway, last Friday I went in, as usual, and as I stepped up to the counter the girl said "tuna special, right? with diet coke?" Oi. They know me. I am a regular. This is bad. Very bad. In fairness to me, I always go to the same cashier, not because she is my lucky cashier or anything, but because she always has a short line. I don't know why, but she does. So, I go there for practical not creepy reasons. Secondly, in my current condition I am slightly more memorable than your average person, you know what with being as big as a house and all. So, maybe that's why? Yet I remain deeply troubled by this.

Here's why: there are other people that I see there every Friday, and they are weird. There is this really REALLY short (I mean, she can't be 4'6") woman with this long skinny rat tail braid thing that runs down her back. And if her physical appearance was not weird enough, she always has to place a special order for an "extra brown" tuna melt. mmmhmm. This is not really a special order kind of place. It's a dining hall. Whenever I hear her order I remember when I used to take the kids I babysit to McDonald's and I would order one of them a hamburger with only ketchup. People at McDonald's, they don't like special orders. It goes contrary to their entire global empire. They made a fortune on assembly line food. So it sends them into a tailspin pretty much every time. Anyway, I digress. First she special orders. And then she sits down, puts a book in one of those little wooden holders that keeps it open for you, and eats. Really? A book holder? Are you trying to be as conspicuous and weird as possible? If so, you are doing an excellent job. My congratulations to you. Then the other day I saw someone else eating a tuna melt with their book in a special holder. Mercy. Look at the company I keep. I think tomorrow I won't eat a tuna melt just so I feel normal.

Who am I kidding. See you there at noon, crazies.

craigslist
I hear many good things about craigslist. I found a nanny on there but it didn't work out. But when I realized there were a couple baby items I needed, I thought 'what better place?' And in terms of quantity of stuff on offer, I was right on. Lots of people are selling now probably to get some cashola for the holidays. So, it is a veritable baby shit bonanza. However, most of it seems kind of overpriced. (really? you want $30 for something that is $35 in the store? And you used it? And I have to deal with you and drive to your house? That should be at LEAST a $10 discount. At least.) And lots of it looks dirty. Or people post a picture from a website "just like this one!" but then you don't know if it is stained or has a hole or whatever. But I got over that part and found some stuff I wanted. I emailed the ladies who posted and that is when it got weird. All of a sudden I felt like I was in some weird stay-at-home-mom drug ring. People asking me to meet them at Toys R Us parking lot at 9am. Seriously. First of all, I have a job and therefore find it difficult to be random places at 9am on a Tuesday. Secondly, what the hell? It seems so sketchy. One woman had this thing I really wanted and she was only asking $12 for it, so after refusing to meet all the way across town at lunch I met her after work one day at a KFC (her choice, not mine). I drive in looking around for a "light blue minivan". Of course she has a light blue minivan.

I realized on the drive over that I had $15, and not $12, and that I would need to get change. I decide to just run in to the restaurant and get a drink. First of all, this was even more horrifying than I had imagined. This place is not in a nice area, kind of close to the highway. The clientele is sketchy (but there are a lot of people in there for 4pm on a weekday). There are two women in front of me who appear to me a mother and daugther. The mother whispers to the daughter and the daughter orders. Neither seems quite right in the head. At one point she orders two sides when she is only entitled to one, so they tell her this and ask if she wants to pay extra. She has this explained to her two more times and still just keeps repeating her order. Finally she catches on and says "is that extra?" At this point I feel my head might explode and I have to buy a drink I don't even want while I wait for a minivan in a parking lot. But, finally, I got my overpriced soda and got the hell out of dodge.

My other adventure involved going to the apartment of a family who has been here for school and is moving back to China. I had to talk to the wife, and all the communications were a little unclear due to some English issues. But we finally agree that I will go and pick up what I want. When I arrive, her mother, who smiles in the way that only someone who speaks no english and is therefore desperately hoping not to be addressed directly can, is taking a kid outside. I walk in to this tiny apartment, and the husband is there on the phone, the wife is putting a little baby in a snowsuit and there is more baby crap stuffed in there than anyone can possibly imagine. It was funny, because the ad said "Item was used no more than 15 minutes at a time three times per day". Apparently their baby was on some weird rigid schedule of exersaucer time or something. But judging from the amount of stuff they had laying around, it was in some form of baby entertainer all day (no more than 15 minutes at a time!) It was nuts. Anyway, she was kind of charging too much but at that point I was way too tired to deal and kind of just wanted out of that overheated apartment. At one point her husband got off the phone, introduces himself saying "You can call me Luis." HAHAHAHA. Really? It is quite common for Chinese people to pick non-Chinese names when they come here. I don't really know why they feel they have to, but they do. But Luis? You're going to pick a Mexican name? There was a guy in my department from China who said his name was Jason and his wife was Nicole. Riiiight. Pretty much we ignored them, got them to teach us how to pronounce their real names and moved on with our lives. Anyway, I gave Luis and Mrs. Luis my money, took that chair and was glad to have concluded my foray into craigslist.

Save Ferris!
You know those little ribbon magnets that people put on their cars? They used to just be for the troops but now they are everywhere? This morning in the parking lot I saw one that said "Support Hedgehog Rescue". Really? Hedgehogs? I mean, they are cute enough I suppose, but I just can't imagine devoting my charity dollars to rescuing them. Is this really a big problem? Are there lots of hedgehogs to be rescued? More importantly, is anyone else a little disturbed by the fact that there are enough people that feel strongly about it that they made car magnets?

Congratulations!
These days I send lots of emails to people telling them that soon I will be out of the office and they will have to deal with someone else. These email messages are fun to write, because I get to dwell on the fact that all the crap I deal with on a daily basis will, at least temporarily, be someone else's problem. And inevitably when you send one of these messages you get some peppy reply telling you congratulations! how exciting! blah blah. But the best was the reply from a hotel sales rep who said "Congratualtions from the Hyatt Crystal City!" Heh. An entire hotel is excited about my baby. Yay for that.

it has come to my attention

2008-11-18T09:45:00.000-08:00

that I am long overdue for a new post. What else is new. Anyway, just after my last post the lizard family went on vacation, so let's start there, shall we?

braver than I am
We were seated on the plane waiting to take off on one of our two flights (can't remember where.) At the last minute, a new passenger is boarding, being escorted by a flight attendant. It is a tiny woman carrying a tiny baby. And then I see another child behind her. And another, and another. That's right, this woman is traveling alone with four children, all of whom appear to be under the age of five. Now, I have traveled alone with just baby Lizard, and it's not that bad. But four baby lizards? Umm....I don't know about that. And the woman was not even 5 feet tall, which means she could not put a bag in the overhead. The other remarkable thing is that these children sat in their seats, were plied with bottles and some sandwich (see how crazy? three kids young enough to drink from bottles?) and were otherwise offered no assistance or entertainment. I mean, at one point two little ones who appeared to be about three were tyring to help each other buckle their seatbelts. It was nuts. Oh, I should note that at first they were all seated separately. Yes, some genius at the check-in counter looked at this tiny person and her tiny brood and decided to put two of them in first class, and seat the other two separately in the back. Fortunately the flight attendants were clever enough to realize that THIS was a bad idea and fixed it. Also fortunately, she seated them all right in front of me so I could be mystified for my entire flight. Normally, being seated behind three marginally supervised small children would be a nightmare, but these kids were so quiet and good it was kind of spooky. I am not quite sure where I went wrong as parent, but I think it is safe to say that I will never have four tiny children that I can travel alone with. (Hopefully I will never have four tiny children, but I guess if I do I'll just pray they act like these midget kids.)

too friendly?
So, our ultimate destination was Santa Fe for a family wedding. We flew to Albuquerque, stuffed the lizard family plus my mama and papa lizard and all of our affiliated belongings into a too small car and hit the road. We were staying at this ridiculously nice place that a relative had selected and we could not afford. There was a very nice man working as a valet there who took quite an interest in my kid. In fact, he kind of creeped me out. Every time he saw us he would call her by name and wave at her and make her laugh. She thought he was fantastic, especially on day two when he brought her a stuffed animal. A new one. With tags. Just for her. What on earth? He took us an all of our myriad bags to our room and showed us around (it was a quick tour!) and then there was this horrible awkwardness because neither of us had cash on us and clearly he is not doing this for the love of a hotel room tour. But we agreed that although he was kind of creepy he was also a genius because we felt that we owed him big tips all the time. I mean, the guy bought my kid a present. And she loved it. It was a little javelina which is some kind of wild pig and she carried it around the state and even learned to say javelina which, I have to admit, was pretty cute.

So, we stayed at this ridiculously expensive place and ate $8 cheerios for breakfast and did not dare touch the mini bar. I have to say that it definitely wasn't twice as nice as your standard hotel, despite being twice the price. And while I enjoy a nice hotel as much - or more! - than the next person, I don't like feeling like I am being robbed blind. So, as soon as the rest of our family left, we moved to a cheaper place for the duration of our vacation. And that is when we learned that "you get what you pay for" is not a meaningless phrase. Now, this new place was kind of a bizarre condo complex that also runs a rental business. But the place was weird and the service dubious. The worst was when we decided to take advantage of their continental breakfast. We arrived in the dining area at 8:30 (service ended at 9) and there was...nothing. The juice machine was turned off, there were a handful of hard bagels in a plastic box, and that was it. It was completely bizarre. At some point this older guy who was in there chatting asked if my kid would like some cheerios (yes she would) and he disappeared and came back with a dixie cup full of cheerios. We cracked our jaws on some stale bagels, and vowed never to return.

tiny pots
One stop on our trip was a visit to a pueblo. We weren't really sure what this meant, but lots of people told us to do it, so we did. I thought it was weird that you would go to what is effectively a neighborhood of native americans and just walk around and...what? look? gawk? feel like a weirdo? So, we picked one that seemed to have an established thing for visitors, hoping that would make it less awkward. We got there, paid our entrance fee, got a map (of an area of about four square blocks, haha) and walked around. And it was kind of weird, just as we suspected. But this pueblo is well known for a particular kind of pottery, and several people run shops out of their home. So, we picked one at random and walked in. We see about six pots on a shelf in someone's living room, a two year old watching cartoons, and no sign of anyone else. Then this old woman comes out and tells us in Spanish that someone is coming. So, this middle aged guy comes out and at this point we're feeling kind of weird about standing in his living room but we feel like we should look at his pots. Then he kind of got rolling and starting telling us about how it was made, etc. Then he offered my kid a homemade tortilla, and I accepted because homemade tortillas are delicious. So, finally we decide to buy a tiny pot, and tell him so and then he says "this one is $70". WHAT? Apparently our faces showed our shock because he immediately reminded us that they were hand made and painted and blah blah. So at this point, what with the tortillas and all, we kind of feel like we have to buy it so we do. While he's wrapping it up, he offers US tortillas. We first decline, but then he says "you pregnant, you need to eat!" and I really love tortillas. Then he says we need Coke. heh. So he brings this plate of tortillas and this giant tub of Country Crock and a knife, and two generic brand grape sodas. HA. He putters around endlessly wrapping our pot, while we sit there and eat delicious tortillas. And truthfully, by the time I left there with my tiny pot I hardly felt ripped off at all.

the wedding
Going to a wedding when you can't really drink and look silly dancing and kind of want to be in bed is not that awesome. Getting married by your brother who apparently was always meant to be a wedding officiant is pretty awesome. The groom changing out of his suit and into track pants and a t-shirt so he can breakdance is super awesome.

the rest
The rest of our trip was spent driving and hiking around the area around Santa Fe enjoying the fall colors and beautiful weather and scenery. And while I am not sure that I would recommend a hiking destination at altitude when one is 7.5 months pregnant, we had a great time. We ate a lot of food that involved tortillas, chilis and cheese, saw a lot of beautiful places and came home happy. the end.

freak of nature
I have now entered the final stages of pregnancy. Something happens during the end of pregnancy where you cross the line from someone with a cute belly to someone who has this giant alien attachment to their front. And although people look at you and tell you either that you look fabulous or you look "big" you can see in their eyes that they are vaguely horrified by your condition and are secretly praying for you that it is temporary. And this is sort of how I feel as well. I mean, yeah, it's a miracle or whatever but it is also a CRAZY process where your body turns in to this completely bizarre thing that you can't quite believe is yours. And at the same time you start to feel not so tip top. In the grand scheme of pregnant people, I feel pretty good. But let's face it, it is not the most fun a person can have. And while I have not yet reached the stage of "get this baby out!" I have reached the stage where I am glad it is not any longer than it is (just under a month). And I will be happy that everyone stops looking at me like that. Seriously, people. I can see you.

super duper
I sometimes worry that I am becoming too Madison. It's a nice place, but people here are kind of weird. Mostly in a good way, but I don't want to cross that line into total liberal college town merrell and fleece wearing person who can't look nice if their life depends on it. And I don't want to age prematurely. Therefore, I am concerned by two things: I go to yoga class at a yoga co-op, and I recently went to a chamber music house concert. Really, a yoga co-op. Does it get any crunchier than that? We all have our Sigg bottles and our recycled mats (actually, mine is just a regular mat) and we 'share' before class. Eeek. Fortunately it's fat lady (aka pregnant lady) yoga so soon I will be done. And the house concert. Well, it was kind of cool to hear classical music played in someone's living room. But we were the youngest people there by a solid 15 years, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself which worried me. I was vaguely consoled by the fact that our college-aged babysitter actually believed us when we joked that we were going to this campus bar where the average patron age is about 19.5 after the concert, and might be home late. At least people think it is possible that we are still young and crazy and cool.

jacked up kid stuff part two
Apparently not only are some kid books kind of wacko, but lots of things on tv are too. Baby Lizard thinks that she really likes watching tv, and she asks to do it but the truth is she has an attention span of about 4 minutes for it. Except for her Elmo DVDs which she can watch in their entirety. So my question is - why do all the kids on Elmo (and a decent number on Sesame Street in general) seem borderline retarded? I mean, clearly there are lots of kids out there who are relatively normal and could presumably act that way in front of a camera? But they have all these kids who talk weird and don't sound very smart. I find it kind of baffling. Also, I have recently seen a few minutes of some kid shows that have adults in them, and I am kind of intrigued by what they are like in real life. I mean, on TV they talk funny and act like real dorks, but that's why kids like them. But maybe they are just normal people who wanted to be actors and weren't able to really make the big time and so ended up with these weird kid gigs? You know, like Urkel? I am very curious about them.

okay, that's all. I will try to remember to post before another month goes by so no one does anything rash like remove me from their RSS feed.

two things

2008-10-15T07:31:00.000-07:00

today is a lady in my department's birthday. They are having cake. YAY for cake. However, we have to go down there and sing. Bleh. For some reason I HATE singing happy birthday at work. Just the thought of it gives me hives. But I am in a real dilemma because I sure could go for a piece of cake. Maybe I will just move my lips and not make any noise. haha. Or maybe I will stand in the stairway until I hear that they have finished singing and then go fetch my cake. I'm such a party pooper!

nice outfit
So, you know how you see little kids and they are wearing some totally jacked up outfit of red plaid pants and a pink polka dotted shirt and some Elmo sandals? And you sort of assume that they were allowed to dress themselves, but secretly you think that the parents should be exercising a little bit more control? Well, I knew those days were coming, but I was not prepared for them to arrive so early. And I am sad to inform you that Baby Lizard has terrible taste. Really, truly awful. I have mostly tried to combat this by only buying her plain pants in neutral colors so no matter what she can only go so far wrong. But I get lots of clothes from other people so there are still quite a few rogue items in her drawer. Today she was wearing a bright but cute sweater, which was primarily pink and kind of busy. She really wanted to wear her ladybug pants, which are also cute but kind of busy and mostly red. I tried to reason with her and get her to put on a pair of jeans, but no dice. Now I realize why parents let their kids walk around looking like escaped mental patients - sometimes it is just easier to let them look crazy rather than fight about it. But, in the end I told her those two didn't look nice together and talked her into some black pants. Though, I felt kind of badly about it afterwards. Why must I be so vain?

My question is this - why do all kids like the brightest, loudest, ugliest clothes? How does this happen? I have no idea, but I think it's funny because in the end they look like all those Chinese grandmas who are still happy that they can wear colors and don't have to wear blue or gray all the time so they wear 17 different colors and patterns at once. Heh.

I HRT CHZ

2008-10-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

I saw this on a license plate in my parking lot. Don't get me wrong, I heart cheese as much (or more!) than the next guy, but I am not sure I need it on my license plate. I might argue that my ass is enough of an advertisement for just how much I heart cheese and all its friends.

sympathy
In a moment of poor planning, I was forced to purchase an anniversary card for my husband in the General Store in a tiny town in Wisconsin just north of Madison. We were off for the weekend celebrating, I forgot his card, and there I was. It was a store that featured Wisconsin specialties - you know, beer, cheese, cow pies, etc. So, I was looking at the one rack of cards, and there was a section titled "Horse Sympathy". You know, for when someone's horse dies. Really? I mean, this isn't exactly horse country. And I know horses have tons of personality and all, and are kind of like dogs for lots of their owners, but a whole card category? Especially when they had like three choices for anniversary cards? Um, yeah. I am a terrible wife.

On the subject of dogs (let's face it, we're on the subject of just about anything at this point), a lady I work with's dog has cancer. Which is terrible, it is. And I would be very sad if my dog had cancer. But here's the thing: 1) the dog is 11 years old, and 2) it's a dog. She behaves as though her husband is dying. And actually the dog is doing remarkably well. I don't know, call me callous but I can't get THAT worked up about it. Maybe I am a terrible person as well as terrible wife? Another colleague has a friend who is dying of cancer (a human friend). She is so depressed and carries this little poisonous cloud of doom around with her. It's really terrible. And I can't muster that much sympathy there, either. I have never even met this person. And while it's horrible and grim and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, I also can't do a very convincing job of acting like it affects my life in any way. Let's face it, it doesn't. Yup, that seals it. I am a terrible person. And I am kind of okay with that.

that shit will kill you
I just enjoyed some packaged cookies which tasted delicious. then I made the mistake of looking at the ingredient list. It was about 8 miles long and included lots of things that don't sound nice. So I threw it in the trash and will pretend they were made of wheat grass, sugar and air. What's done is done, no use feeling bad now.

what on earth?
I read a LOT of kid books these days. A lot. And while most of them are nice little stories, you realize that a lot of them are kind of jacked. Especially the old ones. When was the last time you read Goodnight Moon? It is actually kind of freaky. I mean, who IS the old lady whispering hush? Would you want someone in your room at night who you refer to as "old lady"? And why aren't kids terrified of her? And Baby Lizard has a book called Little Fur Family which is horribly written. I mean, it's awful. It contains the phrase "A little tiny tiny fur animal. The tiniest fur animal in the world." Let me get this straight - is it tiny? And then it says "It was a wild wild wood. Wild winds blew through the trees and wild nuts grew on the wild nut trees." Wait, is it wild? And my kid is currently obsessed with a garden book which contains an unwritten story of a snake chasing a chipmunk (which gets away, but it's touch and go). If I were her I would be scared, but Baby Liz is tough and just looks at the pictures and says "Hi, Snake." Anyway, once you start reading these books again you will all see what I am talking about. The world of children's literature is crazy.

nice going
If you are going to ride your bike, don't talk on your cell phone. And if you are going to try to talk on your cell phone while riding your bike, don't try to cross a three lane road while the light is against you. And you are going to ride your bike while on your phone and try to duck through traffic, then watch out for those railroad tracks. Because when your tire gets stuck in there and you have to jump off your bike in the middle of traffic that is going to suck. And I am just going to look at you for the fool that you are.

dollface
Today I was heading in to the women's room and someone was on her way out. We startled each other since we were entering/exiting at exactly the same second. After recovering, she holds the door for me and says "go ahead Dollface." What? Dollface? Why one EARTH would she call me that? It makes no sense. She is my age. My face does not look like a doll's. She is not someone's creepy uncle or out of a 40s movie. People are weird.

Comfortable
I was walking in to the farmer's market with Baby Liz in her stroller the other day. This guy is behaving kind of strangely. All of a sudden, he rubs his stomach looking vaguely like he ate bad Chinese and says "Are you feeling any discomfort?" "No." "Yeah, you look really comfortable." Stop talking to me. He said some other stuff but I kept walking because I do not need to talk to weird strangers about my pregnancy. I heard him talking to someone else later and I am pretty sure he was talking about being in rehab. I am inclined to think it didn't work.

november 4
Did you know that there are people that think that if we are all just good Christians then God will fix the economy? And stop global warming? And cure all that ails us? Well, there are. And they vote. SO if you think that maybe, just maybe, it will take more than prayer to get us out of the mess we're in, might I suggest that you vote as well. November 4. Don't miss it.

p.s.
and just so you don't miss my posts about being tired of being called big, the other day someone at work told me I had better have my baby soon or else I am going to tip over forward. um...thanks. asshole.

the return of charo

2008-09-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

several months ago I was trying to get out the door with my dog and my kid to go for a walk. this is not that easy. I managed to get the leash on the dog, but as soon as I opened the door he bolted and ran down the driveway and across the street straight at another dog. fortunately, my dog is not ferocious. nutty, yes. but not mean. so I hustle out there after him, and hope that once the people see the kid on my back they will feel sorry for me. I especially think this once I see that it is two parents and a child walking this dog. by the time I get there, the husband is holding their dog in his arms (with a kid on his back) and standing on the leash of my dog (very considerate). the woman is giving me the look of death. I apologize, grab my dog, scold him entirely for their benefit and get walking. They do not give me any indication that they are feeling understanding or sympathetic, and this makes me mad.

We start seeing these people all the time. They cross the street away from us every time we pass them. I feel they should be our new best friends, because look! they are just like us! they live in our neighborhood, they have a dog, their kid is the same size as ours. But no. Instead I brand them my arch enemy. This starts to be a fun game. I have completely demonized them. I hoped when we moved to our new house, which is walking distance from our old house, we had moved just far enough that we wouldn't see them. But, we did. They pass by our new house all the time. My dog barks out the window at their dog. But I stopped looking closely at them a while ago. Until Sunday. I was returning home and they were right in front of my house. I looked at the kid and thought "that kid looks exactly the same age as Baby Lizard" again lamenting that they were foe not friend. And all of a sudden, the woman looks up and it's Charo! Not THE Charo, but Charo mom of little kid at Baby Lizard's new school. Ha. I immediately wonder if she has figured out that I am the irresponsible mom whose dog came running at her months ago. Did she recognize me at the picnic? If so, she didn't say anything. Anyway, her dog was pulling in to my driveway so I went to say hi, which is what I do to all dogs. I'm a dog person. And she pulls him away and says "he's not friendly". Now I get it! That is what was at the root of the whole thing! She was terrified of what her mean little dog would do to my dog or me or my kid. I mean, she probably also thinks I am an irresponsible mess but the real problem is her mean terrier. It's not even friendly enough to let a stranger come within ten feet! But now I need to find a new arch enemy. There's just too much friendliness in the world.

bad to worse

2008-09-12T10:15:00.000-07:00

bad: burning your toast
worse: burning your toast so badly that it sets off the fire alarm and the whole building is evacuated
even worse than that: having someone send an email to the whole building telling them that it ws your burning toast that set off the alarm, and that the university is charged every time the fire department comes. email also included instructions for what to do if you have "smoking food"
worse yet: the follow up email that says that even though the guy hates this building he doesn't think we should burn it down, so we should just get a new toaster.

fun exciting times. fortunately I do not use the death trap toaster and therefore have not caused any fire alarms.

I'm your first friend!
a totally random person from high school looked me up on facebook. She has no friends, and we have no friends in common (on facebook that is, in real life I am sure she is very popular). Weird. Did she go looking for me? How did she find me? And of course being friends has led to no meaningful reconnecting or anything like that. Basically I saw that she had no pictures posted and therefore I had no facebook use for her.

on another facebook note, a "friend" of mine on there posts some weird rant every day about the corrupted duopoly of our political system and how if we really care about anything we will vote Ron Paul. Who, um, isn't on the ballot. But we should shun the establishment and vote for him anyway! I don't doubt that Ron Paul has some great ideas but this guy is starting to sound like a real wackjob.

p.s. the election has me terrified.

how many chances?
I received an email from 'Jackpot Chances' with the subject '12 chances at a new life!' Ten minutes later I received another message from 'Jackpot Chances' with the subject '112 chances at a new life!' Look at that - in just 10 minutes I got 100 more chances at a better life. I am totally waiting until tomorrow to see how many chances I have by then. I figure by Christmas I will be a guaranteed winner. So, do you think they had a meeting and someone said "I just don't think 12 chances is enough. If we really want to suck people in we need to give them 112 chances." Or perhaps it was just a typo. In any case, I still have to wonder who the suckers are who actually read those messages (for something other than blogging sport). I opened it and it said "Are you dreaming of being a millionaire?" And had a picture of someone sleeping on a little loveseat. I thought - hell, she doesn't need to be a millionaire, she just needs a full size couch so she can spread out and get some REST.

worst blogger ever

2008-09-08T10:12:00.001-07:00

that's me. I can't believe I went a whole month again. bleh.

the same post over and over
I kind of feel like that is what this is, but seriously. this is my life, people. Several weeks ago I walked in to the lounge on my way out of work, and the cleaning lady was in there. as I was walking out I could tell she was giving me that 'is she pregnant?' look, so I turned around and said I was pregnant. then she says "I was thinking - is she pregnant AGAIN?" Nice. But the funny part is, this woman all of a sudden was off work a couple of years ago because she had a baby, but allegedly did not know she was pregnant. That's right, I am getting flack about being pregnant from someone who had a baby and had no idea she was knocked up, despite the fact that she already had TWO CHILDREN. So, she knows the deal. The big belly? The kicking? The weird pains? Not ringing any bells, lady? I defended her at the time, and said she probably just said she didn't know because she didn't want to tell anyone so she wouldn't lose her job or something. BUT, on this night a few weeks back she decided to tell me the story, and according to her she really had no idea. None. At all. For nine months. She had even been to doctors in that time period for something, and none of them figured it out. I have no idea how this is possible, and I still kind of refuse to believe it. But, whatever. And yet she is in a position to judge my procreating habits. Honestly.

olympics
I know, the Olympics are SO August and everyone is over it, but I just have one thing I want to discuss: trampoline. So, I caught it on an airport tv, and I have to say it's pretty cool. But, am I the only person that had absolutely no idea that this was a competitive sport? I watch a lot of sports. I read Sports Illustrated. I know most things that people do competitively. But I was watching and they said that trampoline was relatively new in some country, they had only been doing it "for ten years" which implies other places have been doing it much longer. Talk about complete lack of glory, I had no idea trampolines weren't just for hyper kids in their backyards. On a side note, I hope that my parents' neighbor is starting to practice RIGHT NOW for 2012, because that girl loves to jump on a trampoline. Much more than your average kid. But anyway, this was total news to me.

And I find it hilarious that BMX is an olympic sport. What I like even better is that some guy from Latvia got the gold and everyone was all "yeah, we knew he'd win." BMX in Latvia. I can honestly say I had no idea.

ricaraga
I went to Nicaragua for work a couple of weeks ago. It was my first trip out of the country in a long time, and probably my last for a while. Managua is kind of a strange place but the people are nice and the food is pretty good and overall I can't complain. Mostly I just went there, worked for three days and came home but it was still nice to get my passport stamped. Our first night we stayed at a place called Hotel La Pyramide which is, as you might guess even if you don't speak Spanish, shaped like a pyramid. As in Egypt. It's a nice place, once you get over the whole triangle thing. Anyway, I was staying in the Nefertitti Suite (not kidding) and I don't know if it was the tiny twin bed that was about 2 feet off the ground and 6 inches too short or the electric shower, but I sure felt like a queen! In the bathroom all the fixtures, including the toilet, were black. I do not recommend this. Sometimes you need some information about the contents of the toilet, and if it is black you can't see anything. Just something to consider for your next remodel. (It's funny, I am not sure I have ever noticed a black toilet anywhere, but since I came home I have seen two in the homes of people I know. Apparently it is more common than I realized, making this warning all that much more important.)

while I was gone mr. lizard taught baby lizard to say Nicaragua, which comes out Ricaraga and is, of course, exceedingly adorable. The funny thing is that now if you ask her where I am going the two choices are yoga (known as noga) and Nicaragua. Interesting. I think this is a sign that I need to get out more.

no more dishpan hands
our old house did not have a dishwasher. This was kind of tedious, but after a while we got over it. However, I was very enthusiastic about the fact that my new house had one. I glossed right over the part of the property condition report that said it worked 'intermittently' and promptly filled it with dishes. Apparently 'intermittently' means 'does not work when full of dishes' which is obviously a problem for something like a dishwasher. So, I demanded that we purchase a new one. We went to the appliance store and the guy asked us what we were looking for, you know, did we need all the bells and whistles? I said 'I haven't had a dishwasher in five years, so pretty much any machine that washes dishes for me is pretty impressive in my book.' Of course I still walked out of there with a fancy dishwasher, and I was super excited. Someone told me that getting excited about appliances is a sure sign you are getting old, but people: I just magically got back a half hour a day. Seriously. And it still feels like a miracle every time I open that baby up and the dishes are clean. ALL BY THEMSELVES. WITH NO HELP FROM ME. It's so great.

nice to meet you
Baby Liz started a new school. Since we sort of pretend to be social we attended the back to school potluck. First of all, bah to potlucks. My hatred for them is well documented here. I completely forgot about the event until the night before, so I went to the store that day and bought some deli items. I figured hey - it's a lot of working parents. We're all in the same boat. But NO. I arrived to a wide array of freshly made items including casseroles, sandwich platters, macaroni and cheese and all other kinds of stuff. Oi. I felt terrible about my store bought cookies and pasta salad. Until...until...someone brought McDonald's. To a potluck. For overeducated parents and their over-parented offspring. HAHA. I am not the worst one. I am second to last in the lazy mom category, but I did not bring chicken mcnuggets to her potluck. So, yay for me.

I am really not very good at mingling at places where I don't know anyone, and Mr. Lizard had to work late so I was there alone. Eventually I kind of sidled up to teh family of this kid who I am pretty sure is in my kid's class (hey, it's only been a week) and the mom says to me "Hi, I'm Charo." HAHA. I almost died. Because this woman is so very much unlike THE Charo I can't even tell you. She is a Japanese scholar, but not even modern japanese. Medieval japanese texts or something. gotta love university towns. I certainly cannot picture her in some ridiculous get up saying cuchi cuchi. Just the idea of it gives me fits. But of course she was given this name before Charo was Charo, so it's just her bizarre misfortune. Interestingly, this prompted me to go to Charo's wikipedia page, and here for your reading pleasure is the first paragraph:

María del Rosario Pilar Martínez Molina Baeza Rasten (born March 13, 1951, though other sources state 1941), better known as Charo, is a Spanish and American singer, dancer, comedian, actress and classical guitarist. She is known for her flamboyant stage presence, provocative outfits, and her trademark phrase ("cuchi-cuchi").

Can you believe that name? No wonder she goes by Charo. heh.

John Edwards
In other hopelessly outdated news: holy fall from grace, Batman. I cannot believe he was having an affair. But don't worry, it was while his wife was "in remission". Which makes it totally okay. And the woman he had it with is kind of horrifying. She voluntarily changed her name to Rielle. It's as if she was always hoping to be someone's trashy affair.

And to prove that my belief that perhaps Sarah Palin should not run for VP while her family is in a state of mild disarray is not sexist, I also did not think John Edwards should run when his wife was probably dying. This is because I sincerely hope that they would find their family lives very distracting at this moment in time, and let's be honest: running the country is not really a job you can get distracted from. I'm just saying.

round and round
baby liz: mama light on
mama: *turns light on because she is a dutiful mama*
baby liz: why light on?
mama: because you asked me to turn it on
baby liz: why mama light on?
mama: because you asked me to turn it on, and I did
baby liz: why mama ask you?
mama: *blink*
baby liz: *collapses in a fit because the light is on*
mama: *turns light off*
baby liz: why light off? NO LIGHT OFF! NO MAMA LIGHT OFF!
mama: *collapses in heap due to exhaustion*

welcome to my world. it's nice here. just don't touch the lights.

rewind

2008-08-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

four fridays ago.

since I last posted on here I have moved house. As anyone who has done it recently knows, it is not one of life's more fun processes. I didn't move very far, but I am not sure it matters. Everything has to get from one place to another, and it is in your best interest to do so in boxes. Otherwise it gets quite messy. If you are planning on moving and you and your husband both have full time jobs and you have a two year old, here's what I do not recommend: going out of town both weekends prior to your move. When you have friends showing up at 10am on Saturday to load your truck. And you have a proposal due at work. Because that's what we did, and let me tell you: it sucked.

Anyway, so three fridays ago we were trying to do some last minute packing since we were headed to Milwaukee for the weekend to see my sister. We both had long weeks, and having to pack on a Friday night was just the icing on the cake. So at 8:45, mr. lizard says "I would kill for a beer." Unfortunately we did not have any at the house. Madison has this very strange law that you cannot buy alcohol after 9pm in a store. (You can in a bar, of course.) So I check my watch, and being the good wife that I am offer to run to the grocery, which is two blocks away, and get it. He says I'll never make it in time which I take as a direct challenge, and off I go. You know what is classier than buying beer at 8:54pm? Buying beer at 8:54pm pregnant. When the high school checker has to page a manager to ring it through for you. Um...yeah. That was awesome. And the manager gave me such a look of contempt and I was about to explain that I was just being a good wife but then I decided - it's really none of her business. If I want to go home and drink this whole thing that's my problem. (Well, and mr. lizard's.)

four saturdays ago
as mentioned above, we then went to Milwaukee to meet up with my sister and her family who were there for a wedding. Since she is usually much, much more than an 1.5 hour drive away, and because she needed a babysitter for the wedding, we headed on over. On Saturday night they went to the wedding, so mr. lizard and I were in charge of her two kids, aged almost three and basically zero (he's three months) and our almost two year old. Since we were staying in a hotel, we unfortunately had to take them out to eat. We decided a restaurant might be more than we could handle, and there was a big outdoor festival nearby so we decided go there. We took our two stroller/one walking kid/pregnant lady circus on the road and it thought: right now I am little more than a walking ad for birth control. I was sure that I was going to lose my niece in the crowd. And my own child was borderline hysterical due to creepy pirates and giant puppets. If we learned one thing it is that we do not want three children under the age of 3. No sir. If we learned two things, it was that pizza delivery to the hotel was a better idea than it originally seemed. haha.

There was this woman dressed as a pirate (sort of) at the festival. She actually looked pretty creepy and had soot all over her face. She was playing with my niece who thought she was kind of funny, but she almost instantly made babylizard cry. And then for some reason she thought she could fix it. So she keeps getting closer to her and doing more weird stuff at which point baby liz can no longer breathe because she's so freaked out and I am looking at the woman like "seriously, get the eff out of here. immediately." I later saw the same woman go up to this really tall (and I mean REALLY tall, like probably 6'6") woman and make a big fuss. After she walked away, the tall woman said "that was supposed to be funny, but it was just really rude." She seemed pretty irritated. I think that woman needs to try to stop doing street theatre. Oh, and those damn pirates scared my kid like four separate times. I really need to toughen her up.

three thursdays ago
I went to a monthly board meeting. We talked about the same things we've been talking about for months, agreed on almost nothing and adjourned nearly 45 minutes late. At the end of the meeting I had this conversation:

him: I didn't realize you were pregnant again.
me: yup, we're crazy enough to do it again.
him: how old is your other kid?
me: two. (actually, she'll be two on saturday but ever since the onslaught of this 'again?!' business I went ahead and made her two. it sounds better.)
him: my wife and I have no idea how people do that.
me: do what?
him: you know, have kids that close together. Like, two kids two years apart.
me: yeah...well...we'll see. (mumbles about how baby liz is a good girl and blah blah)
him: tomorrow is v-day for me.
me: what?
him: vasectomy day. we're done.
(the guy has a four month old. vasectomies seem like a good idea to lots of people with four month olds because four month olds are little invasive aliens that don't sleep. however, it is very important that you do not indulge, because when your kid turns fun all of a sudden another one seems like a great idea.)
me: wow, well that settles that!
him: so, when are you due?
me: December.
him: yeah, that's the other thing. I have no idea how anyone can survive having a baby in the middle of winter.
me: your wife is ugly and your breath is bad. see you next month!

Seriously, if someone picked you up in their new Toyota would you say "God, I don't know why anyone would ever buy a Toyota. They are the worst cars ever." Or if someone told you that they were moving to Florida, would you say "Ugh, I don't know how you could possibly live there with all the heat and white trash." I mean, in that case that is what you would want to say, but would you? Probably not, because you were probably not raised in a barn or under a rock or by wolves and therefore you have some tiny shred of good graces. So when someone tells you that that they are doing something that is irrevocable (like being several months pregnant with your second child in two years and due in December) would you make them feel like that was the worst decision they ever made? Let me help you: if you want to answer yes to that question, consider becoming hermit immediately. Or alienate the whole world person by person. Your choice.

I told you
when something random happens it always comes back to wisconsin.

First this which is just, wow. I cannot even explain. what exactly does it camouflage you FROM? (thanks to doberman for the link.)

and then this from dooce, which doesn't exactly make Wisconsin look bad, but it IS a dog in a blue wig and leg warmers.

cougar
there's a DJ on my favorite radio station that I hate. she's annoying. but they play good music, so I endure. Anyway, she's on the older side and has, as mr. lizard likes to say, "a face made for radio". she's unfortunate. and she's sick a LOT. I think she probably smokes and drinks too much. But anyway, she always has a crush on some new hot, young musician. it's really kind of tragic. she makes all these off-color comments and insinuations. ew. and I bet she TOTALLY humiliates herself when they come to town. I wish someone could make her stop.

moving
in addition to being a big hassle, moving is really disorienting. baby lizard couldn't sleep and refers to our current home as "new house" and our old home as "this house". she used to call it babylizard's house, but that is a concept that has, hopefully temporarily, ceased to exist. the dog doesn't know where to sleep, though he is enjoying the fact that we have a lot more carpet and a screened porch. we started putting his bed on the porch and he can have inside/outside privileges all day. so, I think he's happy. And me, well. I don't know. I like it. It's too big. I can't remember where I put anything. I feel like I am on vacation, except I have all my stuff and I have to go to work and wash dishes. So, it's a pretty terrible vacation. But I still think I like it.

getting this far has taken me days, so I am just going to publish and come back soon.

the big time!

2008-07-11T07:50:00.000-07:00

this little blog is now getting 18 readers a day! woohoo! I don't know who you are, but a very warm welcome to wiscolizard. also, I am now getting comments from people I don't know. This is very exciting. As a little thank you to my airline commenting friends, I encourage you to read this article from Ask the Pilot on salon.com.

the gloved one(s)
Yesterday as I was leaving work I crossed paths with a woman who I could tell, even from a distance, was a bit unusual. While her outfit was what I like to refer to as 'office unfortunate', and consisted of a khaki vest and some patterned capris, along with white socks and sneakers D.C. style, this what not what I noticed. Well, not really. 1) she had crazy over-dyed hair and for a minute I thought it might be this crazy woman that used to work with us. 2) she was wearing ridiculous sunglasses, and 3) this is the big one: she was wearing elbow high white gloves. What on earth? The funniest part was that she was clutching her bag up to her chest so you could enjoy the gloves in all their glory. I thought and thought about it, and tried to come up with a reason why she would be wearing them, but I got nowhere. For a while I wore white gloves to sleep as a child. This was so I would not scratch my palms off due to eczema. And the white gloves were cooler than either winter gloves or socks, so there you have it. So I gave her the benefit of the doubt and figured that maybe, just maybe, there was a medical explanation? But then I think I would just wear long sleeves or something. It was super odd.

And then. And THEN, not five minutes later, just after crossing the street, I see ANOTHER woman wearing gloves. She is wearing a long sleeved black shirt, black dress gloves, a floppy black hat, giant sunglasses, and some other stuff. What the heck is going on? Now, I know you all think it is cold in Wisconsin, but it's summer now, and yesterday when leaving work it was a lovely 75 degrees. Not glove weather at all. So to see both of these people within five minutes? I was starting to wonder what planet I was on. Not Fashion Planet, that's for sure.

sincere apologies
if we have another thunderstorm here there are going to be no trees left and we are all going to start commuting in arks. So I would just like to take this opportunity to tell Mother Nature (again) I am very, very sorry for all the mean things I have done and I hope she will forgive me soon. Because I am not sure how much more I can take.

yup, again.

2008-07-08T12:40:00.000-07:00

I will now confide in you something you would know about me if you could see me, and that is that I am pregnant. again. and before you think 'wait, didn't she just have a kid?' and/or 'what is she, nuts?' the answers are yes, and yes. but if you actually saw me in person I would like to think that although you might be wondering if I have heard of a wonderful thing called birth control (I have), that you would not actually say it out loud. However, I ran into someone today that I have kind of known for forever, and would never see if I had the choice. I only ever see her by accident. Here's how the conversation went:

me: Hi.
her: Hi. Know of any jobs?
(seriously, I have not seen her in months and months, and she wastes absolutely no time on small talk. she has lost her job. again. she's always looking for a job. it's super depressing.)
me: um...not really. looking?
her: blah blah blah about losing grant funding and human resource errors and a bunch of other shit I don't care about.
*finally, after 15 minutes of bitching*
her: so, what's new with you?
me: um...not much. you know, pregnant (stating the obvious.)
her: AGAIN?
me: yup, again. you know...(trails off because how the hell do you respond to that)
me: my life is still better than yours. see you later! I'll let you know if I hear of any jobs!

okay, so that's not quite how it went, but still. So, put "again" up there with "you're big already!" and "oh no! a winter baby!" and "how old is your other baby lizard again?" with all the other fantastic stuff I hear everyday. So, here we go. Again.

at least D List.
I was driving by a church the other day that was advertising ' "B" List Bible Stars!' HA! What exactly are bible stars? Who are the "A" List (the quotes are theirs, not mine) Bible Stars? Jesus? He must be one, right? Who else? I don't even know what a bible star is. Christian music perhaps? Televangelists? Who knows. Anyway, does anyone really want to be identified as "B" list, other than Kathy Griffin?

We have a baseball team here in the summer. It's not minor league. I think they call it wooden bat league or something, and basically it's a bunch of college players who come up here and play other regional teams for the summer. The baseball is okay, but the stadium and atmosphere are awesome. Seriously. And this summer they are featuring tons of B list (not even) stars, mostly aging child actors, who come and do features. The lineup is hilarious: Potsie, The Beav, Eddie Munster, and Gary Coleman (who still wants to know what Willis is talking about). They are also having American Idol Karaoke Night featuring William Hung. THe comment says "Come and meet the 'star'!" HAHA. They called him a "star". And if wooden bat baseball is questioning your celebrity status, you've got problems. Greg Brady came and did a show when I was in college and it was horribly depressing. Basically he bragged about his trysts with Marcia and Mrs. Brady, and then said he told the people backstage "In case your friends ask: black Calvin Kleins", insinuating that their friends were wanting to know what kind of underwear he was wearing, which they certainly did not. Mercy. How humiliating.

A side note on the Mallards (our baseball team) whenever a foul goes into the stands, the announcer says, in a very understated fashion, "Weiner." because if you catch it you win a hot dog. That, in my opinion, is way more exciting than seeing a poorly aging Potsie.

random
my favorite recent invention: foaming soap. what a great idea.
skill I wish I had: pulling into a parking spot backwards so you can just drive out.
favorite word of non-english speakers: sea. it sounds so much nicer than ocean. wouldn't you rather visit the sea? can we all agree to start referring to it as such?

happy tuesday.

recombobulated

2008-06-27T11:51:00.000-07:00

One thing I forgot to post about my last trip. I flew out of Milwaukee to save some cash, and this was the first time I have done that in a while. After you get through security, and are scooping up your bags, your shoes, your jacket, your shampoo, and whatever the hell else they want to look at now, they have this area with chairs labeled "Recombobulation Area". HAHA. Perfect. Because let's face it, at that point you are definitely discombobulated. Big time.

facebook revisited
Okay, so I know I said I hate facebook but I find it oddly addictive. Mostly I just like looking at people's pictures. It is very interesting the pictures that people decide to post, and let's face it: we are all nosy like that. If you could see random pictures of people you knew a million years ago, wouldn't you want to? It's like a reunion without all the awkward conversation. Anyway, this guy who lived in my neighborhood growing up but who I was never friends with (he was both younger than me and weird) added me as a friend. He's all "It's been a long time! What are you up to?" and I wanted to send him a message that said "We've never actually had a conversation. Why start now? Post some pictures." And then, he did. And, well, let's just say I have a feeling he's still weird. There are multiple pictures of him with girls, each of which LOOKS like it might be a girlfriend but there is only one picture of each. And it says the date, and they are all from conferences and such over the past four (!) years. So, I am going to go out on a limb and say no girlfriend, just trying to look popular. Which is really not working out for him. Then there are a couple of weird shots of him sitting at a desk working. Um...no one cares about your office. Then there is a picture of what I can only assume is his car, which is this big fat black Cadillac but not an Escalade, some sedan type thing. WTH. That's for your grandpa. And THEN there is a picture of him driving said car, clearly taken with a cell phone. So, after looking at that I felt kind of sad for him. But not nearly sad enough to get into a conversation.

Also, in a moment of facebook honesty my friend removed 'reading' from her list of interests and 'mostly foreign flicks' from her favorite movies. There, doesn't that feel better? Now go eat some bon bons and watch The Girls Next Door like you know you want to.

Oh, and I had lots of friends tell me that they loved Scrabulous which is online Scrabble. I tried it. I hate it. I will be honest, I hate Scrabble. I think this is because I used to play with my sister and my dad and they would be all "that's xyrgot on a triple word score for 69 points!" and I'm all "cat". And truthfully, when you play online it gets dragged on for days and days and you aren't even face to face. So, I don't like it. However, I won my game. So I think I shall retire from Scrabulous undefeated.

The above is why I will never, ever post this blog as my website on facebook. I cannot jeopardize such a valuable source of material.

awkward
As I mentioned here earlier, I did not have any trouble selling my house. This is mostly because it is 1) an awesome house and 2) in an excellent location. Last night I was at girls' night out and this woman whom I do not particularly care too much for asked me how I sold my house, because hers "has been on the market for months and she has had 20 showings and no sale". I don't really know how to answer this because the real answer is that my house is better than hers. And I don't say that to be superior, I say it as the real estate fact that it is. If you gave any real estate agent in town the choice of selling my house or hers, they would all pick mine. But then she confesses that her two year old is "running around" during the showings. Um...that's a problem. Though not as big of a problem as the fact that she lives on a not nice, busy street. She asked me why I was moving and I said because I needed more space and was moving to a bigger place. Which is true. Someone asked her why she was moving and she said because she can't afford the mortgage and she's moving in with her mother. And if that doesn't make you want to drink (and buy her one) I don't know what will. I would like to thank my lucky stars that I am not 32 years old and moving in to my mother's house with my husband and my two year old. yeesh.

make new friends
All summer long they have something here called SOAR which is new Student Orientation and Registration. It's mandatory, all incoming freshman have to come and sign up for classes and stuff. A lot of the activities are based at the union right near my office, where I often go for lunch. So I get to see all these awkward looking kids dressed to look as cool as they can, standing around wearing name tags and not talking to each other. It's hilarious. They all stand about 15 feet apart from one another and look like they both want someone to talk to them and like they would rather die than talk to anyone. And that, my friends, is a reason to be glad you aren't 18. There aren't many, but that's one. Being able to legally drink in a bar. That's two. See, it's not so bad being old.

say what?

2008-06-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

I was waiting to cross the street the other day and a bus passed by. It had a giant ad on the side with a picture of a woman falling into what looked like the world's largest pothole (seriously, she was in there all akimbo, but basically up to her waist) and the slogan said "It's not her fault, it's your asphalt." It was an ad for a paving company, and it has me befuddled. I mean, of course I get the pun on as-FAULT, but I still don't really get it. Or maybe I do get it and it's just not funny? It's weird, right? Anyway, pave your driveways so your friends don't fall in holes. Or something.

PEOPLE
It is well documented that I love People magazine. I read it every week. A couple weeks ago they had a little article on the prom, featuring portraits that someone has taken from all over the country. Anyway, I get to this one picture and the guy is not in a tux and the girl's dress isn't fancy. And I think, 'well, that's not very prom-like'. And then I look at the tagline and it's from MY high school! HA! First of all, my high school was not that big. Not tiny, but not huge. However, apparently prom is no longer formal? And truthfully, all the people looked kind of lame. When I went boys still wore tuxes. And lots of girls wore poofy, sparkly dresses. Not me, mind you. My prom dress was super lame. Super. But whatever. We were fancy. And now? Not so much. And it makes my town seem a little weird. In fact, the only person wearing a tux was a girl, who looked quite a bit like a boy if I am being honest, and her date, also a girl. Which didn't really bump us up at all on the typical prom normalcy scale. But maybe everyone else read that article and thought 'huh, that seems like an interesting place. maybe I will go there on vacation.' and you should, because it's nice there.

hello?
Here at my office we have an open door policy, for the most part, and if you are in your office, you leave your door open. Not everyone, of course. We have our recluses and our shut ins. But for the most part, the doors are open. What baffles me is this: people will come to a closed door, and stop. They will check the sign that says what office hours are. They will knock on the door and listen for an answer. All of this is normal enough. But THEN, and this is what I find unusual, many times they will test the doorknob to see if it is locked. Why? If the person is in there, clearly they do not want to talk to you and nothing good will come of the door opening. You will interrupt them. They might be in a compromising position (or in my case, napping on their office floor). Would you do this? If you went to someone's house, and it was dark, and you rang the bell and no one answered, would you try to open the door? (Well, you might if you were on CSI or Law and Order and thought they were in there dead, but otherwise?) Anyway, this has served as a reminder to me to lock my door whenever I want to be sure no one comes in.

Another strange thing is that twice in the last two weeks I have walked in on someone who did not lock the bathroom stall door. Now, it is almost impossible to tell if someone is in there from the outside. And the door lays shut even when unlocked. So I am in the habit of just pushing the door open, and on the rare occasion that it is in use, I just go around to the other one. But who are these people who are not locking public bathroom doors? This is kind of a fear of mine, not really sure why, but I cannot fathom knowingly going to the bathroom in public with an unlocked door. People are weird.

2008-06-20T12:06:00.000-07:00

right. so. where was I? First, as I mentioned not long ago, Mother Nature is pissed. We just had our second "100 year flood" in the last 10 months. Well, not here in Madison. I mean, we have too much water but we are lucky enough that our city is not underwater. But others, they are not so lucky. There are fires and droughts in California, the midwest (and all our corn) is underwater and it is 100 degrees everywhere else. So, I think maybe global warming is real. I'm just saying.

Last week I escaped the deluge and went back to L.A. the weather actually wasn't as nice and I learned about something called 'June gloom' which means it is kind of foggy and not that warm. Alas. The good news is that it was sunny and beautiful for my friends wedding, held at an amazing spot in Malibu with a lovely view of the ocean. So, you know, if you could afford a house on a cliff with a view, and you didn't have to work or drive on the PCH, maybe living there wouldn't be so bad! We rode a shuttle bus to the wedding with a bunch of the groom's relatives from Chicago. They are a fun bunch, but were literally screaming as the bus climbed a hill to the wedding site. Granted, it was a steep hill and a dirt road, but when people say "we're from the Midwest! we're not used to this!" it makes me cringe, since everyone else seems to think we are country bumpkins. oh well, whatever.

I decided to save a little bit of cash and share a room with a high school friend at a cheapier hotel. Let me say I now remember why I have a tendency not to scrimp on hotels. The problem is, the difference in quality vs. the difference in price is not usually worth it. There really aren't any 'cheap' hotels in Santa Monica. Well, actually this was a motel but it still isn't what I would call cheap. The website featured pictures which I now realize are computer renderings which made the place look nice and, well, it wasn't. It WAS clean, and it was in a good location, but in this case you didn't even really get what you paid for. You got a poorly soundproofed room with absolutely no amenities (unless you are willing to wash your hair with 'European Hair and Body Wash' from a shower dispenser). And some neighbors that decided that it would be a good idea to have a screaming match in the courtyard at 3 a.m. Seriously. There was a lot of door slamming involved and at one point the guy said "I'm outta here!" and I thought 'thank the lord' and then the girl is screaming "Come back here!" and I really thought I might cry if he did. Actually, he did once, and then left again shortly thereafter. Anyway, it was a strange place and it seemed like some old lady lived in one of the rooms, and one other one looked like a dorm room? Honestly, I have no idea. But, the beds were not uncomfortable and the shower was okay, and while I might have appreciated a black-out shade to help me sleep past 6:30am I survived.

Since our lovely rooming establishment did not have hair dryers, I made an appointment to have my hair washed and dried for me. This has to be one of life's great luxuries (and in LA it is for sure a luxury because it will cost you $45). And because it is LA, my stylist was a Mexican man. I am nearly positive that there are no male hairstylists from Acapulco (really! that's where he is from! I asked him if he had even been on the Love Boat) in Wisconsin. Of course, I can't be positive, but I think it's a safe guess.

I saw an old friend of Mr. Lizard's when I was there. He asked me when I was going to move to LA. Again with people that think you surely must be looking for some way out of Wisconsin. And of course why wouldn't you want to move to some over-priced, over-populated, trafficky, smoggy city? With your kids. And no job. And no family nearby. Honestly, people, I am glad if you love it where you live, but stop trying to convince me it is better than where I live! At least not until you come visit. (In the summer.) I don't try to convince you to move to Wisconsin, and the least you can do is stop assuming that if I only had a choice I would instantly move to Southern California. Because I do have a choice, and I wouldn't. I also find it irritating that it would never, ever occur to any of our friends to come visit us here. Literally, my friend's husband says to her "If we go to Milwaukee to see my friends we should hook up with these guys!" and she looks at him and right in front of me says "Why would we go to Wisconsin?" Um...thanks. I mean, I knew the adoring masses wouldn't be pounding down our doors when we decided to move here, but I did not think that it would be absolutely unfathomable to everyone we know (including our family until Baby Lizard came along) to come visit us. Really: it's nice here. (In the summer.) And until you are willing to haul your ass out here and see for yourself, stop judging. Sorry. Apparently I was more upset about that than I realized. I just need to stop going to LA. And, now I will. Twice in two months is enough for me.

On my return trip I was looking forward to enjoying my diet coke and a magazine (and the thrill of traveling without a two year old on my lap) and I arrived at my seat to find...a two year old sitting in it. Was this some cruel joke? Actually, he was 3 years old, and to his credit he was very well behaved, and was lulled to sleep by some video. [Note: if you travel with a small child and do not have a portable dvd player, get ye to a big box store and buy one toute de suite. You will not regret the purchase.] Interestingly, the people in front of me, and behind me, all had kids most of whom were very well behaved. Including the little guy in front of me who barely made a peep despite the fact that his parents did not do one single thing to entertain him for the duration of our FOUR HOUR flight. Well, he got a pack of oreos at the beginning, one tiny tractor to play with, and other than that his mother sat there reading magazines and his dad looked out the window. The whole time. I found it astounding and baffling and kind of disturbing. Because if you are willing to allow your child to be bored for an entire flight, and they put up with it, that means you ignore your kid a LOT. Jeez, I had half a mind to let him come sit in my seat and watch movies with the other kid. But, let's face it: I had magazines and diet coke to attend to, and unlike this other mom I only get to do that when I leave my kid at home. Sheesh.

And now it is time to go enjoy the beautiful Wisconsin summer. The water is receding, the mosquitos haven't hatched yet, and there are no tornadoes in the forecast. Why on earth aren't you on the first plane out here people? We will get the beer and ice cream ready. And all seven of you are more than welcome at Chez Lizard. It is very reasonably priced, and the neighbors (that's me) are lovely.

here kitty kitty

2008-06-04T08:38:00.000-07:00

someone in my neighborhood posted a sign about a lost pet. A common enough occurrence, but this pet is a bird. Some kind of fancy African parrot. Um...how exactly are we supposed to catch said parrot and bring it back? I wish I knew because they are offering a $200 reward. I bet all the birdwatchers in the neighborhood are on the lookout big time. Anyway, while I suppose a parrot would stick out in a neighborhood full of robins and cardinals, it's a bird. We aren't going to see it walking through someone's yard or begging for food on someone's porch. Who knows, maybe it is trying to fly back to Africa as we speak. Anyway, I feel that the chances of finding this lost bird are very slim. We had a pet bird get away once and truthfully it never even really occurred to us to look for him. I imagine he died while endlessly flying around looking for a tiny dish of seeds with a festive mirror attached.

A while back some neighbors lost their cat. They called in a pet psychic to find out where it was. Then they asked our friends if they could search their house, because the psychic had said something about a red house. The strange part is that our friends' house isn't even red. It just has red trim, which means those people were desperate. Though, I guess we could have guessed that from the pet psychic. People are weird.

not a word I like to use

2008-06-03T12:22:00.000-07:00

Here at work there is this kind of skeevy maintenance man. You know the type: he's super friendly, chats up all the ladies, and something about him kind of makes you want to take a shower. Anyway, he used to come around and talk to me all the time which was unfortunate. Now I rarely see him, but he stops by every once in a while. Last summer he came in asking me to go get ice cream with him. I said "I can't". He said, "You can't, or you don't want to?" Um...isn't asking that against the rules? Obviously if you are asking you know that I can and I just don't want to, so by asking that question you are either making me admit that I don't want to get ice cream with you, which is awkward for everyone, or forcing me to lie more strenuously which, of course, is exactly what I did.

Anyway, he stopped by yesterday. Yippee. He said he was walking out of the building next door and a bat flew right at him. (It's funny, until I just typed that it didn't seem completely bizarre. Just another sign of the shambles my life has become.) Anyway, discussing bats led to a discussion of wildlife which led him to tell me about this tame squirrel that used to hang around his house. It would eat peanuts out of his mouth. Mmmmhmmmm. I challenge you to find an engaging response to that. And then he says "Yeah he used to even eat..." (peers conspiratorially out the door) now whispering "those nigger toes. What do you call them things?" Holy hell at this point I am dumbfounded. I have no idea what nigger toes are and I certainly do not wish this word to be used in my office. I regretfully inform him I haven't the foggiest idea what he's talking about. He says "You know, in the mixed nuts? the big ones? Nigger toes." "Brazil nuts?" I ask totally half heartedly really wishing the fire alarm would go off. No, that's not it apparently. OI. I am from Virginia and so one would think I might be familiar with such slang but I am pleased to report that I am not. Interesting, when I recounted this story to Mr. Lizard he looks at me and says "oh, brazil nuts. isn't that awful? I can't believe people still call them that." What, is this some sort of weird Midwestern thing? Like grape jelly and shrimp sauce on your meatballs? Jeepers. I am just here to say that if you happen to use that most distasteful term for brazil nuts, please do not do it anymore. Please.

mom of the year
yeah, I'm not winning this year. And that's okay. But I was reading this kind of high end mom magazine that I get and I have decided I should cancel my subscription (which I don't remember getting anyway) because it is bad for my psyche. Not only am I not raising my child toxic free, according to this magazine I should be doing so in designer frocks, carrying my it bag, making my own organic baby food, while volunteering to save the world in my free time. It has this article about three things to do with an ingredient you (allegedly) have laying around. A few months ago it was "So you have some swiss chard." This month it's "So you have an eggplant." Right. Because those are always the things I have laying around my house. And then each recipe calls for ten other things I don't have laying around. For me this should say "So, you have some pasta, a little bit of ketchup, and pickles." Or something like that. And desperation meals are not homemade baba ghanouj. Honestly. The other thing is they are always featuring interior designers who live in totally sick lofts with their two kids and somehow the whole place looks designery and awesome. And then you look at your kid's room and you feel sad. So, I think I will cancel. I don't need to pay for this kind of psychological torment. I get plenty of that for free.

The other day my child was stuck on loop and it was driving me mildly batty because we were in the car and she was so cranky and I just wanted to hit the mute button. And I said "ugh - I could kill her right now" and my husband said "don't say that" which is totally right. I shouldn't say it. But then I started thinking that I am not sure how anyone actually kills their child. I mean, I will give her my last bite of toast even when I am starving and I will play the same game eight billion times and even though sometimes she makes my head hurt I could never ever intentionally do a single mean thing to her ever. But I will admit that it was just a little sad for me the other day when I realized the day had come for me to watch my mouth. When we were training our puppy our trainer said "Say whatever you want to your puppy, just say it in a nice voice." And it was great advice because when you are inevitably about to wring their tiny puppy neck because they peed inside/ate your shoe/ ran away/ etc you can just sweetly say "you little piece of shit you know I could take you right back where you came from!" and as long as you say it nicely they just wag their tail and hope you have snacks. Which you do. And this worked for the baby liz for a while too. You could sing songs like "If I have to change one more diaper I'm gonna lose my mind" or "Nobody knows where the neighbor guy went." But the other day she was doing something that was getting really tiresome and I smiled at her and said "You're making mama cuckoo" and she looked right at me and said "Cuckoo." And now we have to cross yet another dog training trick of the list as 'no longer appropriate for use with human puppy.' sigh. At least the food reward thing still totally works.

something I have never seen before

2008-05-30T11:03:00.000-07:00

This morning I was driving baby Liz to daycare, and I notice a car with a bunch of stickers on the back one set of which spells 'bastard'. But the stickers are kind of tiny and (super safe mom driver that I am) I passed him before I could read them. And then. And then....I notice that there are much larger stickers on the side of his tiny toyota. They read "In my opinion Joseph Frederick Somethingorother Is Not My BASTARD Son either." WHAT? And then, in smaller font "I will pay for DNA test but they won't allow it." Holy hannah that is one of the craziest things I have ever seen. Remember - these are stickers. On his car. That he drives around in. You can see the guy, who actually looks kind of normal in a Madison sort of way, and here he wants to tell you and all the other commuters his very personal business. And I feel bad for Joseph whoever too, since there is a person in the world who is so desperate to prove that he is NOT his father that he spelled out a message about it on the side AND back of his car. Wow. What would you think if you worked with that guy? What do the drive thru bank tellers say about him when he drives away? How many accidents has he caused since people are momentarily dumbstruck after reading his car? Yikes. I think he needs to work on his anger issues.

TURKEY
We went bowling last night for girls' night out. Good times. Bowling is great. It's fun even if you aren't good at it, and bowling alleys are such deliciously tragic places. The beer, the bad food, the motley clientèle. I love it. Anyway, I had to laugh at the bartender who was thinking she was super cool and flirting with all her customers. So, I know being a bartender is kind of a cool job and being a chick bartender is maybe cooler, but being a chick bartender at a bowling alley on a Thursday? Not so high on the awesomeness list. Sorry. But, she was having a great time. But the best part was as we were finishing up bowling this really short, fat woman wearing a headset comes out and says "When you're all done bowling, join us in the bar for karaoke! It's going to be lots of fun!" hahaha. She was the karaoke DJ and she had this posterboard sign that said Troubadour Karaoke or something (it was all very 7th grade science project). How funny. If I had been in the mood to get totally wasted then maybe, just maybe, I could have gotten into it. But as was, I was definitely NOT participating in two bit bowling alley karaoke. haha.

However, it gave me a pleasant flashback to this restaurant I worked at one summer in college. The owners wanted to own a cool bar but the truth was our restaurant was tiny and located in a strip mall and was extremely optimistically named "Almost Paradise" which is most decidedly was not. Anyway, the owner decided that one way to attract bar patrons (which tend to be lucrative) was to have karaoke. So, we did. And lord was it awful. No one came. Maybe 4-5 people. And I would have to work until like 1am just for those people, none of whom even rang up huge bar tabs which is just about the only thing that would have made it worth it. There were these two guys, one black and one white, who would come in together every week. They introduced themselves (and I swear I am not making this up) as Elvis and Michael Jackson, and boy did they like to sing. A lot. We offered super cheap Michelob drafts, and Elvis would order one and MJ would have an iced tea and they would sit there all night and sing and sing and sing. It was excruciating. I used to beg them to let me at least drink while I was on shift, but it never worked. Ah, memories. Seems like just yesterday I was wearing that cheesy tropical colored t-shirt and trying to sell people on the Key West shrimp. RIP, Almost Paradise.

have a great weekend.

it's still cold

2008-05-29T13:29:00.000-07:00

despite the fact that it is nearly June. What a drag.

Anyway, I went to nice sunny Virginia to see my family, including all four of babylizard's cousins. She had a great time running around and playing with new toys and eating birthday cake (not hers) and all that jazz. In fact she had so much fun that the day after we got home she took a four hour nap. How delicious for all involved. Rather than do something productive like unpack, I decided to enjoy this Memorial Day indulgence by sitting in front of the tv and watching a bad movie in the middle of the afternoon. Because once you have a kid you don't get to do things like that very often. So, happy memorial day to us. Oh, and thanks soldiers. You are doing a great job.

how young is too young?
I have often wondered how long I have to wait until my child is old enough to walk the dog for me. I don't mean hold the leash when we walk, but actually go out on her own. I think I probably have to wait a long time. But the other day I saw something that made me realize there are so many chores I haven't thought about. While walking the dog, I saw a dad walking next to his kid who was on a bike. The kid's bike had one of those trailers that usually people use to pull little kids around. You know, they look kind of like death trap-y tents on wheels? Anyway, I thought it was strange to have one of those on a kid bike, and I wondered what she was dragging. So I caught up with them and peeked inside, and it was filled with six big bags of groceries! That's right, the kid was hauling the groceries home. While at first this seemed a bit exploitative, I then started to look at is as pure genius. You are saving gas, the kid is getting exercise, and you don't have to haul groceries! So, baby Liz is for sure not ready for this, but I think I need to get creative about putting her to work. While she is very good at throwing things in the trash she really isn't pulling her weight around here. Do you think I could teach her to do laundry?

bratty kids
Yesterday at the park I overhead a mom saying she quit teaching because she hated being a disciplinarian. It will come as no surprise that her children were very poorly behaved. Her child wanted to use a toy that mine was using, and he came up and said "get off!" right in my face. Needless to say, I did not. I also did not attempt to disguise my contempt for this horrible behavior, which had his mother suitably embarrassed. However, if you do not have kids, listen closely. If you do not want to be a disciplinarian, do not have kids. I promise it will end badly.

forced socialization
someone thought it would be a good idea for the staff here to go out to lunch together. it wasn't a good idea. we don't really have anything to talk about, so there are lots of long silences. it's sort of excruciating, and hopefully after today everyone remembered why we don't do it more often. seriously. we sit there and make polite conversation about people's garden projects and their recent travels. bo-ring. big time. on the upside, on Thursdays at the place we went you get a free mini sundae with your lunch, which almost made talking about someone's kitchen renovation worthwhile. Almost.

can't say I blame him

2008-05-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

I think it is fairly well established here that I am not all that nice of a person. That's not really fair. It's not that I'm mean, I'm just very judgmental. And if I don't like something, I am not going to pretend that I do. And if I don't like you, I probably am not going to pretend that I do that either. Unless, you know, you're my boss or my loan officer (both of whom I actually like and therefore don't have to pretend which makes my life easier). Anyway, recently I have heard of a few people getting divorced, and while this is definitely too bad for them, when I heard my instant reaction is 'well, I certainly couldn't be married to them, so I guess I am not too surprised that somebody else can't, either'. Which is a terrible, terrible thing to think. But sometimes, you know, it is not that hard to see how someone was married to someone and they drove each other crazy and couldn't live in the same house anymore. I mean, we are all hard to live with. I think if you are totally easy to live with then probably you are not that interesting of a person which is no better. I admit, I am not sure I could be married to myself. Fortunately for me my husband begs to differ. But some of us are harder than others of us, and I think if you are being honest with yourselves you know who you are.

Anyway, one of the moms of another kid in Baby Lizard's class was in there having a heart to heart with the teacher this morning when I dropped the liz off. It was kind of awkward, as I am sitting there filling out my daily sheet and putting away diapers, sort of trying not to eavesdrop, but seriously: what the hell else am I supposed to be doing? I can't even pretend to watch the kids play because they are all at the table eating breakfast. Anyway, she's asking the teacher to call if the dad ever tries to pick the kid up when she hasn't said he will be doing so, and a bunch of other domestic drama. Clearly she is about to cry and I am just trying to get the hell out of dodge. And I feel bad for her. I mean, here she is with a one year old kid that now she has to raise by herself. And I don't really care for her kid either. He's not cute or funny. He has some skin affliction and can't eat normal food and is always crying. And I feel like if you are going to have to be a single mom and maybe try to meet someone new, you deserve a cute kid to help you win them over. Not some crusty problem child who most people are going to kind of not want to touch. (Yep. Going to hell. Just in case there was any doubt.) But seriously, moving on with your life when you have kids has got to be really hard. It is hard enough to meet someone new and pick up the pieces if you aren't trying to do that while doing one billion other things, including taking care of your kids. So, I feel bad for her. I do. But I can't say I find it shocking that someone else can't live with her. She seems like a miserable person, and hopefully for her it was some jerk of a husband who was making her miserable and is now gone, and she is actually much more enjoyable than I thought and will live a long happy life with someone else. Just not me.

I saw another one of the recent divorcees at a kid's birthday party a couple of weeks ago. I don't really know her very well, and haven't seen her in a few months. I walk up to the party and she says "Lizard, this is boyfriend Thomas. Boyfriend. Thomas. This is Lizard." Got it. He's your boyfriend. Congratulations. I wonder how long he will last being introduced as Boyfriend. Thomas. Because that would have me out the door pretty quick. I wonder if she's going brand him. Or make him wear a t-shirt that says "taken" or something. Good luck to that poor guy because that woman is a force to be reckoned with, and not in a good way. She's one of those people who likes to make you feel like a really deficient parent (and person in general), and all I can think is 'I hope you are saving up now for all the therapy your kid is going to need when she's older.' Yes, her child is very impressive and uses big words and eats healthy food and that other crap. But well and adjusted are not two words that will soon be uttered to describe either of them. eek.

that's all. That's a lot of meanness for a Monday morning. Perhaps I need to relax. heh.

supply and demand

2008-05-15T09:44:00.000-07:00

I actually have a degree in economics. I don't use it, and I am not sure how I ever convinced anyone to give it to me, but there you have it. Anyway, I remember practically nothing from my studies, but I DO know a thing or two about supply and demand. Let's take the case of my house. Supply is low, there is just one like it. Demand, apparently, was very high and lots of people wanted to buy it from me. Which means 1) I get to set the price and as long as someone will pay it that price is not too high, and 2) buyers, that means I have what you want. These two facts did not prevent either of the following:

1) A guy I worked with asked if I had sold my house. I informed him that I had. He was surprised, and asked if I got my asking price. I informed that I had gotten higher than asking. He, a professional economist who ostensibly teaches impressionable young minds about economics says, "I can't believe you charged such an ungodly amount of money for your house." Um...interesting. I mean, I guess it is fair to say that you are surprised that someone was willing to pay that, but he said it in such a tone that implied it was somehow my fault that someone paid me a lot for my house. So I mentioned this to my boss thinking for sure he would back me up on the whole "the house is worth whatever someone will pay for it" thing, and he said "Yeah, I think it's pretty ridiculous too. But I guess if you want to take people's money that's capitalism." WHAT?! I finally actually follow economic law and now am being criticized for it? Was I supposed to sell my house for a cheap price to be nice? Or so people would feel like they got a deal? Um, no. I am supposed to take advantage of the fact that I have a good product, and charge lots of money for it. Duh. Just ask Apple.

2) Someone called me yesterday to ask about the house. She says she is very interested, and will I please call her back. Then her husband calls. He will be easier to reach. They are very interested. Please call back. Then the wife calls AGAIN (all of this during work hours, so it should be no great shock I am not at home) and says (to recap) that she called and her husband called and they are very interested. Please call back. Hold on. Just to be clear - you're interested in the house? And you want me to call back? OKAY! So, I did. And I told them the bad news which is that I already sold the house. I said of course these things can fall through and we should know in 3-4 weeks, and I would be happy to put her name on the list of people to call if it does. (Seriously. I have a running list of people to call if the sale falls through. Despite my avariciously high price and shameless capitalism.) I explain we are not currently giving showings because, well, the place is sold. Then she starts being mean! She asks me "How am I supposed to know if I am interested if you won't show it?" And I thought 'I don't really care if you're interested.' I ALREADY SOLD IT. And I turned down someone who offered me more than I was asking. So, not only do I have what you want, it's not even available to you. And yet, somehow, I am in the wrong? She asks if it would be possible to just offer more, and I think the answer to that is no. Legally, now that I have told these other people I will sell it to them for the price offered, I am not allowed to change my mind. A drag, perhaps, but there you have it. So, she acts kind of disgusted and tells me I can call her if something happens. Wow. That's so nice of you. Thanks for playing.

mayday mayday

2008-05-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

right. so. where were we? First, LA. It's nice there. When you go almost anywhere warm from Wisconsin in the less warm months, the new place seems to be in technicolor. It's kind of crazy. It was gorgeous and sunny the whole time, and we enjoyed the sea air and the palm trees. You know you live somewhere with good weather when people complain at 68 degrees that it is "too chilly" and then complain at 79 degrees that it is "too hot". Yes, no one in LA is happy unless it is exactly 74 and sunny all the time, apparently. Spoiled brats. The people in LA were not quite as LA-ish as I had imagined them to be. I mean sure, people are in general thinner, tanner and better dressed than here in America's dairyland, but it is not the non-stop glamourville that I had pictured. Perhaps I need to watch less television? I'll be honest, I didn't make it to Hollywood, so perhaps had I been there I would feel differently. And I did feel a bit zaftig at the wedding, but someone there who is actually kind of famous told me she loved my dress (score!) so it can't have been all bad. Said famous person also brought her kids, and I was somewhat consoled by the fact that even kids of famous people act kind of bratty at weddings. Overall they were very well behaved, but they did cause their mother to have to leave in the middle of the ceremony (the main reason I didn't want to bring my kid to the wedding) so what US Weekly says is true - stars: they really ARE just like us. Kind of.

Anyway, we got to see lots of friends and eat many many fish tacos and overall had a grand time. I can see why lots of my friends want to stay in LA, but I am pretty sure it's not for me. Too much traffic and driving. Too many people. And the houses are way too expensive.

before I forget
I was walking across campus the other day and some charming group of students was having an Israel day celebration. They had info booths, music, and tons of tiny Israeli flags. But my favorite part was that they had this giant bounce castle that was festooned with flags. haha. Because when I think of the crisis in the Middle East, I for SURE think of inflatable fun.

house for sale
so, the primary reason for my not posting is that I have been totally consumed by the process of selling my house. It is now sold (amen and hallelujah) so I have freed up some goofing off time. We have a really small house so in order for potential buyers to not feel like the walls were closing in around them and be in danger of being buried in an avalanche of tennis rackets and camping equipment when they opened the closets, we spent two weeks getting most of the stuff out of our house. And let me say, it is very nice and roomy in there now! We put all the stuff in a POD which is now at some mystery storage site close to the interstate (I'm guessing that's where it is). I cannot say enough good things about PODS. The clever people who came up with that are tops in my book. Unfortunately, every day I think of something else that is in the POD that I sort of wish was here with me, but oh well. Nothing that I really can't live without until we move in July and get the POD back. The worst part is that in a fit of optimism on a warm day I packed up all my sweaters. Every single one. And then it got cold. So I wear the same zip up hoodie to work every other day, alternating with weather-inappropriate attire and freezing my butt off. It's been a lot of fun.

So, once we got the place all spruced up we had an open house. We decided to sell the place ourselves (because we are crazy gluttons for punishment) which meant I got to deal with all the open house crazies in person. We got our first stalker just days after listing the house. He emailed asking to see it early, and we said no. He emailed back saying nothing much more compelling than "please?" and we said no. Then he emailed AGAIN saying he had just stopped by our house and looked in the windows and "are you not at home"? Um...NO. First of all, we are at work like normal people in the middle of a weekday. Secondly, even if we were home, I can guarantee you the house was not ready to show at that exact moment. So, at that point I decided he was a total stalker and made him leave us alone. He showed up at the open house and acted extremely judgmental about the house. He complained about the lack of garage (clearly stated in the listing) and wondered why there were no screen doors. He said some things were too small, and then my favorite...he looked around the dining room and said "Why are the walls green?" Well...I...because...well....um...you see....I was standing there desperately trying to think of a polite answer to that question (I am trying to sell the place after all) and all I could come up with was "we thought it set it off nicely from the living room" to which he replied "huh". At that point I was more than ready for him to make a hasty exit which he eventually did, without saying thank you or goodbye.

We got a lot of interesting comments, most of them very complimentary. One lady said our decision not to update the cabinets (which are original and designed by the architect) "interesting" and clearly not in a good way. People say that things are "different", also not in a good way. But phooey to them because we got several offers and sold the place in under a week. So there. It is super weird to be standing in your house and have all these people looking around, opening your cabinets, flushing your toilets, etc. I actually had one person who stood there and waited for the water to run hot and which point she reported to her husband "hot water works!" And I wanted to say 'do you honestly think I live her with a baby and no dishwasher and no hot water?' Believe me, I have spent time boiling water for a hot bath and it is not something I want to do on a regular basis. I live three miles from downtown, in a very residential area and someone asked us if we were on the city water/sewer system. I was tempted to tell them no, and point out that what LOOKS like a pond in the backyard is actually a well, and all the faucets are for show. You have to pull your own water. I would be very curious to know the ratio of people who came to people who were actually in the market for a new house. I think it is probably distressingly low, which is why our real estate agent friend told us open houses aren't worth anything. But, it worked for us, which is good because if I had to show my house every day for the next month I would probably kill someone. And my dog would be REALLY tired of living in the trunk of my car.

Anyway, it has been an experience. Not one I am sure I would recommend to anyone, but still kind of fun. Especially since it worked. I have a little bit of fun gloating when I get mail (everyday) from some realtor saying "Congratulations on trying to sell your home yourself! When it doesn't work out, give us a call!" ha. Not so fast, suckers. But I will say this: real estate is not for the faint of heart, or for the risk averse. Being quite risk averse and somewhat faint of heart, it has taken its toll on me, but I think it is nothing that a few cocktails and some good sleep can't cure.

other than that
I really need to get my notebook. because I saw about a million things to post here in the last month, and now "poof!" as my brain has officially turned to scrambled eggs. sigh.

L.A.. it's not like you and me

2008-04-08T12:53:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow we are headed to LA for a wedding. While I am super excited about sunshine, warm temps and palm trees, going to LA terrifies me just a little. I know nothing about the city and will probably be lost the whole time. But the truth is, I just feel like I don't fit in in LA. Which I don't. Let's face it, I am from Wisconsin now. And no matter how hard I try, I will not convince anyone otherwise in LA. I sort of imagine that everyone there is tan and thin and fabulous and quasi famous. And I have a job that is almost impossible to make sound interesting (maybe because it isn't all that interesting?). So I fear telling people about it at the wedding and their eyes will glaze and they will be looking around the room for someone more interesting to talk to (isn't ANYONE here an agent?!) but they will throw out the occasional absent-minded 'fabulous' to try and make me think that they are paying attention, which I already know they are not. And I will feel compelled to drink wheat grass shakes and eat egg white omelettes in an attempt to feel thinner, cursing the fact that I had to go to L.A. just at the end of the Wisconsin winter. Let's face it, six months of snow and cold are not exactly a recipe for looking or feeling your best. And so I will compensate for feeling out of it by either 1) talking too much or 2) drinking too much (which will lead to 1) ) and that's no good for anyone.

BUT other than the wedding where I will be forced to hobnob with LA types, the rest of the time I can just enjoy the warm weather and being outside. Baby Liz is going to discover the novelty of going outside without a jacket, a joy she has not known in many, many months. And hopefully that laidback California attitude will help us calm down from our real estate stress and just chillax and enjoy.

seven for some
if you are familiar with high end denim then you know a brand called 7 for all mankind. I would like to point out that they are not for all mankind at all. First of all, they are only for the teeny tiny percentage of mankind that is willing to pay $150 for a pair of jeans. Also, and pay attention here ladies, if they do not make your ass look fabulous (and for many they do not) then they are not for your kind, either, even if you meet the first criteria. Because you know what? $150 is too much to pay to make your ass look big.

I totally fell for it

2008-04-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

I don't usually fall for April Fool's jokes, but this morning on the radio the DJ said that Milli Vanilli was coming out with an album featuring guest vocals by famous people. I thought well, isn't THAT ironic'. And then I kept driving and I looked out the window and I thought 'duh'.

my perky aerobics instructor Jen had us start our warm-up on the floor. she said we were going to do the whole routine sitting down. I didn't fall for it. but when she shouted April Fool's as we were all sitting on the floor like a serious bunch of fools this one woman totally cracked up and waved her arm like 'Oh, go ON! You are such a STITCH!' Oi.

easy living
For the most part, I don't wish I was in college again. The three years after college I would happily re-live in a heartbeat. But college? Not so much. However, I was riding the bus today and a girl sitting next to me had written RENT on her hand in pen. And I thought hmm...I sort of wish that paying rent were the only responsible thing I had to do, and that writing it on my hand would be an acceptable way to remember it. I think perhaps I am going to start writing "Pick up kid at daycare" on the back of my hand and see if anyone says something to me about it. To do list: 1) save world, 2) fold laundry.

chez lizard
We put in an offer on a new house yesterday. I had forgotten how terrifying it is. And stressful. This will be the second home I have purchased in my life, and while it saddens me to sell the first one, it does not sadden me to think about a solution to my storage problem. However, the past month has really reminded me of all the things that are kind of a drag about being a responsible adult. I think my friend ch who doesn't have a job and lives in an RV and does what he feels like is really on to something. So if that is still an option for you, it is worth considering.

march sadness part 3
It is truly shocking how poorly I have performed in the pool this year. All my earlier credentials have been destroyed, and I am destined to finish somewhere around 50th out of 55. Well, unless UCLA wins which will allow me to regain a teeny, tiny shred of dignity. But really, at this point, it doesn't matter. Waaaah. Three people who entered their DOGS in the pool are doing better than me. Three. Dogs. Enough said.

yeah, it's kind of like that.

2008-03-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

I enjoy the Sports Guy on espn.com, but they are also currently featuring the NCAA picks of the sports gal, who had this to say:

Marquette (6) over Cornell (14): Maybe I could talk myself into the Bucks GM thing if we lived somewhere near Marquette; I always thought it seemed like a nice school. Also, I'd be considered a twig if we lived in Wisconsin. Everyone would tell me how skinny I was all the time and ask me where I worked out and what I did. I could introduce the women there to pilates and explain to them the dangers of brats and cheese curds. I like the thought of being regarded as an exercise pioneer even if it wasn't true.

HA! She is so right. It is easy to feel kind of thin in Wisconsin, but then you have to go to a wedding in LA and you are faced with the impending doom of feeling like the giant pasty cow that you are. Anyway, I also had Marquette winning a couple of times, but that didn't end so well. That is a theme for my bracket this year, which has completely gone to shit. Alas. Two years ago I came in second in my work pool, and it all came down to the final game. Last year I actually WON the pool at my husband's work, but that wasn't very exciting because I didn't get to go to work and gloat about it. But this year, well, this year all that comes to an end. Unless, say, they let Georgetown play a re-match. Even then, though, I still probably lose. Sigh. The good news is that Wisconsin is doing great and will maybe even make it to the Elite Eight. So, there's that.

no CSI needed
You know how in crime shows they have that stuff that they spray and then they shine a light and if it is blood it glows purple? (I assume this is a real product, but maybe it's made up like all the rest of that stuff.) Anyway, I was thinking today that if they had such a thing for milk, and if you sprayed it all over my clothes, carpets and (especially) the inside of my car, they would light up like a Christmas tree. Seriously. Twice last week as I was dropping of baby Liz someone pointed out to me that she had poured milk down my back. This is why I do not expend excessive amounts of energy getting ready for work.

taxes
I was doing some tax research today and came across something that said "If you are married filing separately and have been living apart for the whole tax year, then you can each contribute x dollars." And I thought, if you are married filing separately and have been living apart the whole tax year then you probably want to think about getting divorced.

the love is back

2008-03-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

okay, I just watched the end of the Drake - Western Kentucky game and my love of march madness is back. I feel so relieved. This is how it is supposed to be - you really care about teams you have never heard of in your life. Phew. I was starting to think I might need to go to the doctor.

march sadness

2008-03-21T10:43:00.000-07:00

well, normally this is my favorite time of the (sports) year. I love the NCAA tournament. I think it is the best competition in college sports. However, for some reason, my heart is not in it. This is making me very sad. I don't know what's happened. Maybe the eight weeks of bracketology have taken the shine off the big show? Maybe it is that I know that the 'One Shining Moment' montage will be horrendously disappointing? In any case, I spent about 30 seconds filling in my bracket, made a lot of rash decisions that are sure to put me in the bottom 10, and I really don't care. The only unfortunate side effect is that there are several people here at work who only have any idea who I am because I usually do well in the pool. Though, I guess now they can come talk to me about how I am really sucking it up this year. I dutifully trooped over to a bar with a seizure-inducing number of televisions yesterday during lunch, only to realize that I 1) didn't have the energy to pay attention to any of the 987 tv's and 2) really didn't care who won. Alas.

On a bright note - the boss button on cbssportsline.com, where you can watch all the games. When you click on the button the game turns into an excel spreadsheet. haha. And this year instead of just random shit they actually have data (fake I'm sure) on beverages consumed during the tournament. At least someone out there has a good sense of humor.

I arrived at work this morning to my boss saying "I cheered really hard against your team last night, but they still won." Um...thanks asshole. Good morning to you too.

I would like to lodge a protest against non-basketball brackets however. Since everyone loves the tourney so much, it seems everyone is doing a bracket for something. The girls at gofugyourself (who I heart very much) have one for the worst dressed celebrity. My radio station has one for best album cover of all time. I think I am going to do a bracket for cutest kid at Baby Lizard's daycare. I might have to start with just 32. Do you think the weird kid's mom will be upset if he gets an 8 seed? Or deep down does she know he deserves it? That's me, just going around and making friends left and right. Haha.

the other sad thing about march

Despite the fact that today is the first day of spring (somewhere other than Wisconsin) it is snowing. And not just a cute little flurry. It is full on snowing. Hard. They say we might get 13 inches which has to be some sort of cruel, cruel joke. Thanks to Michele (and dooce) for this article which made me laugh. And while it doesn't make this snow any better, at least I know I am not alone. In fact, this winter they made t-shirts that say "I survived the Winter of 2008" as a benefit for Madison's new children's hospital. That's how bad it is. We made shirts. Now, I will not be buying a shirt because I am sort of hoping to have this winter permanently wiped from my memory, especially since I have no plans to leave this godforsaken state in the flyover zone. I am also opposed to "I survived" merchandise in general, given its heavy overuse in the realm of amusement parks. But I hope those nice hospital people make lots of money. Someone might as well get something out of this endless pummeling of snow.

manual labor
The world is graced with many lovely and elegant technologies, but winter (among other things) has given me an appreciation for things where the only solution is brute force. There are people on campus who have spent countless hours this winter smashing ice into bits with hoe-like devices and then pushing it out of the way. Because really, despite the six inch layer of sand and salt that is coating everything, the ice is not melting. And if it doesn't melt you have to get it out of there. In fact, lots of snow moving activities are quite rudimentary. But earlier this week I walked out to pick up some lunch, and the building across the street, which I knew was slated for demolition, was being smashed into tiny pieces. It was every five year old boy's dream: they give you a big piece of equipment with something heavy/sharp at the end and you smash the hell out of an entire building until there is nothing left. Apparently this takes days, and they are still at it. And I thought hmm...it seems like there should be a better way, but in the end I suppose there isn't. Which for some reason I find oddly comforting.

well, fools, I hope you are having a better day than I am. I know better than to post when I'm cranky. Sorry about that. Happy spring!

a side of guacamole.

2008-03-19T09:04:00.000-07:00

I had been hearing about a new Mexican restaurant in town. It is a taqueria and I was told it was authentic. Being a beaner at heart, on Friday evening I decided it would be a fun adventure to go somewhere new and check it out. So we packed baby Liz into the car, and headed over there. If 'authentic' means 'suspicious health practices' then this place is straight out of Guadalajara. It was totally empty when we arrived, and I will admit we actually walked right by and tried to decide if we were up for sitting in this weird empty restaurant. But I really, really love tacos so we decided to give it a shot. In the front you can sit at a counter, which looked nice but counters and babies don't really mix, so they pointed to some tables in the back where we could put a highchair. To get there you have to kind of walk through the kitchen, which I would rather avoid at any establishment, but particularly this one. And then we get into the back which is a teeny space filled with two tables, two giant refrigerators, and a suspicious room with swinging doors. The floor was covered in cardboard, and you could see...um...food products on the ground. So now I was in a dilemma. Was I willing to risk food poisoning for some (clearly extremely) authentic tacos? Or would I grab the baby and run? I decided to look at the menu, and immediately filled with nostalgia I felt like I was back in Mexico. And I was hungry.

So, we ordered. I spent the entire meal watching this guy haul giant metal tubs full of raw meat around, presumably to be cut up into taco sized pieces. And I'll admit, when they first set my plate of sopes in front of me, I was not the least bit sure I wanted to eat them. I had made sure that nothing I owned even touched the floor, and here I was about to eat? But I reminded myself that cooking gets most of the bad stuff out, right? I am sure everything would be fine. (Famous last words.) And the food was delicious. Really. Very Mexican, though much larger and therefore harder to fit in my mouth. Baby Lizard snacked on her quesadilla, though it was not my proudest moment when the waitress walked out to the table and baby Liz yelled "CHIPS!" which of course she was carrying but proved that we probably eat too much Mexican food. Anyway, no one got sick and everyone got full and I got a ridiculous amount of food and drink for my $17. So, I recommend it. However, I also recommend sitting in the front at the counter. Trust me. It's better for everyone.

While sitting there I was reminded of when I got sick when I was living in Mexico. I had been staying with a host family, and we went on a trip down to the coast. The first day there I started feeling ill. By day two I hadn't eaten in a while and was running a hellacious fever. I could not keep anything in my stomach. I got progressively sicker, and then we had to be evacuated from Hurricane Mitch. This ended up being no easy feat and we left the coast stuffed in to the back of a truck that belonged to some lobster fisherman and smelled strongly of gas. At this point, I was so ill that I slept through the trip despite the fact that people were smoking around gas cans and a really drunk guy kept grabbing my leg and saying "Somebody fell on me!". After the truck we had to get on a freezing cold bus and ride back to the city. When I went to the doctor it turned out I had a serious case of salmoneleosis (? I think glorified food poisoning, but the kind that lives on inside of you and makes you feel like death). When I returned to my host family several lbs lighter and much worse for wear, my host mother insisted that I had gotten sick from (no kidding) 'fear of the hurricane' but I personally am sticking with my chicken prepared on dirty wooden board theory.

Unfortunately, I remembered this whole incident while watching the worker squirrel meat into his tiny cubby, which definitely impinged upon my ability to enjoy the food at the new taqueria. But next time I will go and sit in the front and try to pretend the rest of it never happened. Because I really, really love a good taco.

on second thought

2008-03-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

I haven't been sleeping well and last night my mind was filled with all kinds of crazy things and I was feeling like kind of a mess. But just when you think you are kind of a mess you read something like this and you realize: in the grand scheme of things, I am doing okay. If you are too lazy to click, it is a story about a woman who sat on a toilet for two years because she was scared to come out (she blames a bad childhood?) and so the toilet stuck to her and it had to be surgically removed. The enabler in all this is her boyfriend, who brought her food and clothes and such. The article (which, seriously, you should read) purports that they had a "normal relationship, except it took place in the bathroom". Um....that's not normal. There is not one normal thing about that. He said time went by so quick he didn't know how long she had been in there. But he finally got worried (!) when she started acting groggy. Not when she stayed in bathroom. For two years. No, that didn't really worry him. Only when she started acting groggy. I can't even think about the details of why she needed to not only be in the bathroom but sitting on the toiled. Oi.

So, now I am actually feeling pretty good about myself. I mean, not only am I not in the bathroom, I am dressed, at work, functioning normally. And all of a sudden things are looking up.

If nothing else, let this be a lesson to you to never, ever get a one bathroom apartment. You know, just in case someone wants to move in to one of them.

maybe I should just call myself in to the IRS right now
We have some funky financial stuff going on this year, so I decided it would be wise to use the services of a tax professional. So, we called a firm we have used before. Since we are calling at the highly irresponsible date of mid-March, we get assigned to the new girl. Uh oh. I decided it would be fine, all the other people can help her, right? But still, somethings are okay for the new guy, others, not so much. My fears were not allayed when I walked into the room where she was talking to Mr. Lizard, and she called me by his first name. This wasn't that big of a deal, as he does have a gender neutral name, but then I find out that she called HIM by MY first name. Which is not gender neutral. She was generally confused, and flustered. And when we handed her the paperwork for the transactions that made us think we needed a professional, she got ever more confused. We sat there and tried to get it all straight and she said "I'm sure I can figure it out." Very confidence inspiring. Turns out she knows my sister in law, and we spent more time talking about that than, you know, how to get our taxes right. So let's just hope that everything pans out in the end. But you don't really want surgeons or tax people or the guys fixing your brakes to say "well, I'm not exactly sure I did it right, but I am sure it will be fine". eek.

why I work Volume I
Deciding whether or not to go back to work after you have kids is a tough decision. Well, kind of. I was sure I wanted to go back to work, because I really don't think I would be very good at staying home. Of course I have my misgivings about leaving my kid, and I feel guilty sometimes and I get angry when people tell me they have 'sacrificed' to stay home with their kids because for me it isn't about money it is about personal happiness. However, here is a conversation between me and Baby Lizard yesterday.

BL: car?
mama: yep, that's a car.
BL: car
*guy gets out of the car*
BL: walk?
mama: yep, he's walking to the house.
BL: walk.
mama: mmmhmmm
BL: knock?
mama: yep, he's knocking at the door.
BL: knock?
mama: yeah, he's knocking.
BL: KNOCK?
mama: yeah, he's knocking on William's door. He's waiting for him to open it.
*William our neighbor mercifully opens said door, and the guy disappears inside.*
BL: Go? (this means 'where did x go, a question which is asked approximately one million times a day. often I don't know what x is, and even if I do I almost never know where it went.)
mama: he went inside the house.
BL: go?
mama: inside the house
BL: go?
mama: inside. to see william.
BL: go?
mama: he went inside. I think he and William are watching movies. want to play with puzzles?
BL: go?
mama: want some banana?
BL: go?
mama: *bangs head on table and tries to decide if it is too early to start drinking*
BL: car.
mama:
BL: go?
mama:
BL: knock?

So pretty much, if I stayed home all day I would spend 30% of my time lying about where people/cars/busses/etc went, 30% banging my head on the table, 20% counting minutes until nap time, and 20% enjoying my totally fabulous kid. So, I have decided to skip the first 80%, and focus on the last 20% from the hours of 4-8pm. More power to anyone who has the patience to do it all. You are better women than I am. Or you have a serious drinking problem.

a new spammer tactic

2008-03-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

apparently all the spammers realized that the whole 'I have $50m I need to transfer and I need your help' gig was getting old, so here is something new:

"I am very sorry for you, is a pity that this is how your life is going to end as soon as you don't comply. As you can see there is no need of introducing myself to you because I don't have any business with you, my duty as I am mailing you now is just to KILL you and I have to do it as I have already been paid for that."

The message goes on to explain that I have to send $7000, then they will give me a tape showing who wants to kill me, then I give $8000 more and they won't kill me. Interesting. So, instead of paying you to send me money, now I am paying you not to kill me. A slightly more compelling argument than the last, but...well...not really. Though I thought the email 'killerofsoul@gmail' was a nice touch. since sometimes I do feel like email kills my soul.

watch your mouth
Very, very carefully apparently if you work for one of the presidential campaigns. This morning I saw a news clip that someone in the Obama campaign had called Hillary a monster, then said it was off the record, and then tried to retract it which, clearly, did not work. And just now I read a news clip that she had resigned. Whoops. I think this proves that perhaps my notions of entering politics are not such a good idea, since I have a tendency to not watch what I say, like, at all. But anyway, she's gone now. Which just shows that pretty much all politicians are ready to throw anyone under the bus at anytime. Anyone. Just ask W. And not that this woman deserved anything else, since having that sound bite all over the internet is not really what Team Obama is hoping for, but still.

meat science
Did you know there was a science to meat? Well, there is. Do you find that a little frightening? There was a note about someone doing something in meat science (once I read those two words together I got totally distracted) in a campus paper. So I started looking around, and there is an American Meat Science Association. And a Wisconsin Meat Industry Hall of Fame (perhaps you get in if you figure out how to make bratwurst even tastier?). I was somewhat disappointed to learn that it is not its own major, but just a specialty within Animal Sciences. I think it could be, since we have a Turf Management major, and meat is as interesting as grass. But, I am glad to know that there are lots of people working hard on the science of meat, even though I prefer my meat science-free. Do they write dissertations on the evolution of bologna? Is that where canned meats came from? So many questions. Perhaps I will have to attend a seminar and find out what it's all about.

look into pants

2008-03-05T10:55:00.000-08:00

So, if you have heeded my advice and read gofugyourself then you know that I stole this subject line from them. However, I think they would happily lend it to me under the circumstances: yesterday I crossed the street on my way to work and found myself walking behind a young woman who was wearing pantyhose and nothing else on her legs. seriously. I know what you are thinking: that Lizard is very out of it and is not aware of the leggings trend. but, my friends, I am very aware (though very much not in favor) of this trend. These were not leggings. These were pantyhose, clearly identified by the color change for the top portion, a feature which hose do NOT share with leggings. Not only that, everything else she was wearing was so short that you could see her underwear through the pantyhose. Seriously? Not even a long t-shirt? If you DID decide that they were close enough to leggings, you are still supposed to wear something long on top. Now, I might have said it just rode up, but at one point she pulled down her shirt and it still did very little to cover her ass. And as if all THAT weren't enough, it was 13 degrees out, so even if you HAD decided that pantyhose were a suitable replacement for pants, they were not appropriate for the weather. Finally, you had better have a better figure than Heidi Klum if you are going to try to pull this off, and she, my friends, did not. I almost stopped her because I legitimately thought that she MUST have forgotten an article of clothing at home. But then I reasoned that if she had indeed forgotten her pants, the freezing cold draft should have reminded her as soon as she stepped outside her front door. Mercy. I told someone at work about her, and with luck she had seen her too! She said she thought she was seeing things. Ha. I am afraid not. I can only wonder how much of her day she got through before seeing the error of her ways and heading home to put some f'ing clothes on. And I also wonder how much enjoyment her classmates got out of her little spectacle.

number one in your hearts
I was watching CNN last night and saw part of McCain's victory speech and all of a sudden it hit me: he sounds a LOT like Casey Kasem. I pointed this out to Mr. Lizard, who had to agree even though he likes McCain more than I do, and he said maybe he would make a long distance dedication to Mike Huckabee. HAHA. Anyway, Mr. Lizard accused me of being ageist but I think he is too old to be president. Not to mention that I think he is quite full of bad ideas. Unfortunately now when I hear him I will only think of those days long ago laying on my futon listening to the Top 40 on the radio, ready to press record when the number one song came on. Seriously, listen carefully. See if you don't agree.

face it

2008-02-28T07:23:00.000-08:00

I finally got on facebook. Of course I know I am like the last old person on earth to jump on the bandwagon. I had never done it because I just didn't understand the point. I couldn't get anyone to explain any real utility of it for me. So, I never did it. And then someone sent me some videos for work which finally pushed me over the edge, and now I have facebook. And I hate it. I was right - there is no point. I mean, in theory the point is social networking, but I don't actually network. I get random requests from people I went to high school with me and then we are "friends" but they never actually send you an email to catch up or anything. And there are all these annoying things you can send to people but I don't want them and I don't want to send them to anyone else. And the people that I know that are actually on there and using it all the time are people that, for the most part, I fell out of touch with for a reason. Or else they are like me and they don't really do much with it so it is not helping us keep in touch. And sure, I like being able to look at people's pictures and snoop around their lives, but that gets old kind of quickly. Especially since most people I know don't seem to do much updating so once you've looked at their photos you're done. And while I would like to actually be back in touch with some of the people that are now my 'friends' on facebook, it really doesn't lend itself to that.

Here's the other thing - it's just a way to try and impress people. You want to have the most friends, and prove that you like good movies and read good books and are an interesting person. And you need to find a profile picture of you looking absolutely fabulous. Find the best picture taken of you in the last five years and throw it up there. I mean, is everyone's favorite movie really The Godfather? Are your hobbies really reading and hiking? Maybe, but I doubt it. I have not filled out any of this stuff because I don't like the pressure. Well, to be fair, I hate doing 'favorites' in general because I don't have a favorite anything. Not for any good reason, it's just not really how my brain works. I could watch the movie High Fidelity almost any time. I have seen it a million times, and I always enjoy it. Is it my favorite movie? I don't know. It's a movie I can stand to watch a lot. I think it's good. And if I did make a facebook list it would probably be on there. But most people list things with an eye to what other people think, and frankly I don't need it. No one lists TV as a hobby but I bet they all watch more tv than they read books or hike. I'm just saying. But mostly I think it is boring. And I am too lazy to figure out how it all works so I will retire with my six friends and move on.

don't spend it all in one place

Property taxes are very high in my fair city, but it's a nice place so we kind of forgive them. This year we paid our taxes, and I must have miscalculated in the check I wrote to go with the check we got from the bank, because I overpaid. By 9 cents. I paid a total of more than $5000 (and I have a small house), but they paid me back the extra 9 cents. They sent me a check for $0.09. How ridiculous is that? How much more than 9 cents did it cost them to process that? The stamp alone is nearly four times the value. Not to mention the envelope, printing costs, whatever. And I am sure it is automatic and if I overpay some box gets clicked and they send out a check, but seriously. How ridiculous. I was going to just recycle it since it didn't even seem worth a trip to the bank, but then we were afraid they would have to mail us some notice about how we didn't cash the check and (god forbid) send us a replacement, so I put it in my account. And promptly spent it all in one place.

ha! it ISN'T just me after all
I traveled to Washington, DC this week for business. It was lovely to get out of Wisconsin for a bit, and it was even kind of warm there. I didn't work that hard, I ate some good food, saw some old friends. All in all a roaring success. Anyway, on my flight there, people were very cranky. The plane is tiny which always makes people a little salty, but everyone was so grouchy. The woman behind me was vowing to never fly Northwest again because she was only allowed one carry on (see aforementioned tiny plane). There was a crazy old woman sitting just ahead of me who needed the stewardess. Instead of pressing the nice button that exists solely for this purpose she literally screams down the aisle "Miss, can you come here I need some help!" She requested a seatbelt extender which they did not have so she was moved to a different seat which she found to be totally unacceptable. I bet her seat mate has never been so happy to see someone go. At one point the guy next to me and I exchanged glances and he said "people need to calm down". haha. I often wonder if I am super judgy and hard on the world, and I am, but I don't think I am alone. And to prove this, as I disembarked everyone on there was sitting there talking about all the cranky people on the plane. HA! It is so totally not just me. This is great news.

An aside about the return trip, I had just finished reading a book on the plane and it was sitting in the seat next to me. The stewardess notices it and says she likes the cover. She asks what it was about, and whether it was good. Then she says maybe she will read it because she likes the cover and (this is an exact quote) "I always judge books by the cover". hahahaha.

I wonder
Occasionally, not nearly often enough in fact, I write down things I want to write about in here. Usually on tiny scraps of paper, sometimes they are meaningful at a later date and sometimes not. The other day I found one that said "Jennifer Lopez and three English dogs". It's a shame I have no idea what I was talking about because it sounds kind of funny.

we surrender

2008-02-18T10:18:00.000-08:00

apparently the City of Madison has decided to surrender to the snow. We have waved our white flag, declared winter the winner, and now will proceed to stay indoors for the foreseeable future. Yesterday we got some ice and then some snow, which as you might guess is not a particularly favorable combination for driving or, say, staying upright. Rather than even try to contend with such nastiness, everything closed. The buses stopped running, shopping centers closed, churches canceled services. It was big fat 'stay home' which is very out of character for us Wisconsinites, but I think everyone is just too tired to deal. So, we didn't. Well, I did make Mr. Lizard go to the grocery store since I wasn't sure how long baby lizard would last on dried out baby carrots and ketchup. And since she asks for milk approximately 876 times per day and we were out, I was pretty sure I would lose my mind if we didn't do some shopping. We may freeze to death but we might as well be well fed when it happens. Anyway, Mother Nature is seriously pissed off and I think we can all agree (tornadoes anyone? forest fires? droughts?) that this is not a good thing.

mr. mom
On Friday I went over to the apartment of an acquaintance to borrow something for baby Lizard. This woman also has a kid about the same age. I was planning to grab and go, but when she invited me in for tea (seriously?) I felt somewhat compelled to be cordial since she was lending me something. The next half hour was exceedingly awkward. First, she decided we would sit at the table and drink tea and hope that our children would quietly entertain themselves. Which they probably should be able to, but baby lizard does not really feature entertaining herself if she thinks there is any chance you might be leaving without her, and she always thinks there is some chance of this despite the fact that she really never gets left anywhere except daycare. So, I try to carry on a civilized conversation while drinking my tea but the truth is 1) we don't have much of anything to talk about, 2) this woman seems to be in a pretty bad mood, possible permanently, and 3) we are trying to entertain toddlers from a distance. Then her husband came home which was even more awkward. I have met him before, and do not get a good vibe off of him at all. We have never had much of a conversation, but we have been at two social functions, one of which was only two weeks ago. There we actually sat at the same table has their family while we ate dinner. However, when she says "do you know Lizard?" he says no. And not in a "yeah, but I can't quite place you/don't remember your name" kind of way, but in a 'I have never seen this person in my entire life and why is this alien being in my living room' kind of way. It was completely bizarre. And when I said "We met at the potluck" instead of acknowledging this with some sort of excuse he just looked at me as if to say "nope, don't remember you AT ALL". And while I am not particularly memorable (I only have one head) I don't think of myself as completely unmemorable either.

I remember EVERYONE. This is kind of a curse. In fact, sometimes I pretend not to remember people because remembering them would be weird. Because I know that I have an unusually good memory for people, I sort of expect that lots of people I remember won't remember me. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt and hope for their sake that their memories are spectacularly good at something more useful, like why you came downstairs or what you need at the grocery store. But in this case, I feel there is no excuse. Either he was not paying attention at all and trying to make friends/remember people/be a tiny bit social (which would completely explain why I didn't like the guy, which I could not put my finger on before) or he has some kind of bizarrely deficient memory. But I feel bad for his wife. Though, she didn't really step up either. If Mr. Lizard had been behaving in such an odd manner I certainly would have said something along the lines of "you remember Lizard, we met her at so-and-so's" and given him a lok that said 'please try to act normal'. And because he is a nice, charming person he would say something apologetic and self deprecating and we would all move on. However this guy proceeded to ignore me and I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. She said she wants to have us to dinner but I kind of hope she forgets about that. Though, now I want to test it and see if he sees me again, and the last time was in his home, if he STILL has no clue.

that's enough ranting for now.

YES. I. DID.

2008-02-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

I braved the cold and went to see the person that I hope is the next president. I arrived at 6pm, got in a line, and did not enter the doors until 7:15. That's a long time to stand around in the cold by yourself. Fortunately for me, I love eavesdropping. A lot. If eavesdropping were a sport, I would be an olympian. If it were a career path, I would be CEO. Sadly, it is just a hobby, and not a particularly impressive one, though I practice extensively. So imagine my dismay when I realized that the group of people behind me, a full 50% of my eavesdropping opportunity, was speaking japanese. Which I do not speak. Japanese! What are the odds. Anyway, I was in this line which appeared to be necessary but in the end was a colossal waste of time because there was not a single person trying to manage the entrance in any way, shape or form so it was all very chaotic and the line got eaten by the mob. It should be said that I picked up a sandwich on the way, and while I was waiting for my hands to be warm enough to eat it, I put it (wrapped of course) in my coat pocket. In my other coat pocket, since bags were not allowed, I had a book in case I was sitting around for a long time with nothing to do. And as I crossed the street with a sandwich in one pocket and a book in the other, I decided that I had also crossed some line into...what? I don't know exactly. Something along the lines of old/dorky/weird/crazy. And I am pretty sure that I never get to cross back, but oh well. We all knew it was coming.

Anyway, after standing outside trying to get in for more than one hour, which is what happens with the human equivalent of 8000 lanes merging into, say, twenty. At the head of each of these 20 lanes is a "security" person who made us all unzip our coats and gave cursory glances inside purses. I am actually terrified of firearms so of course would not have dreamt of bringing one in, but I will say that if I had wanted to I almost certainly could have. Which is a little terrifying. (Perhaps the lady I work with who is convinced that he is going to be assassinated is getting into my head.) I finally found a seat up in the rafters, saved by the fact that I was traveling alone and a seat had been orphaned mid-row. I had a good view of the stage, which is a benefit when viewing something in a basketball arena since the entire place has been constructed with an eye towards, you know, watching stuff. Anyway these sorts of events are little more than a pep rally, but who doesn't love some pep? It's exciting sitting there with all these other cheering people, participating in democracy. I am a total sucker for that kind of stuff. I love democracy. (Interestingly, I keep mis-typing that as democrazy and while I think there's probably a good joke in there somewhere, I can't find it.) I love to vote. I don't do absentee because I love going to some school, waiting for the little old lady to find my name on the list, handing me my tiny slip of paper, getting that ridiculously giant ballot, going into the 'booth' which is little more than a table with a half assed attempt at a curtain, and using my marker to fill in the arrows. It never gets old. Really. I bring my kid with me to vote. I think it is good for her.

Back to Obama. He is a good speaker, people didn't lie about that. He is inspirational and funny. And he seems like a good person. And he is very magnetic. And maybe he has no idea what he is getting himself into, but what worries me more are the people that do know exactly what they are getting themselves into and the STILL want to do it. Perhaps he is naive and no way will he be able to do everything he says he wants to do, but for me that's okay. And truthfully, it's not like he has to do it all by himself. They don't hand you the keys to the White House and Air Force One and say "good luck!" Just ask the current president. He knows a thing or two about helpers. So, we'll see. Bill Clinton is speaking just around the corner from my office in a half hour, but I can't go (boo to that, since I would like to see him speak again). Wisconsin is going to be very popular in the next few days. And when you see a picture of Bill Clinton speaking in a weird building with a dirt floor, you cannot say that I didn't warn you that things are different here.

more later.

yes we can

2008-02-12T10:33:00.000-08:00

I am trying to decide if I am ready to join Team Obama big time, and what better way to help me decide than to hear him in person. He is coming to Madison tonight, and will speak in the basketball arena. But here's the thing. It's really, really cold out. If I could just walk over and go inside, that would be one thing. But the doors open at 6:15, he won't talk until two hours after that, and some people are getting in line at 3 or 4pm. What? Stand outside for two hours in single digit temps (and snow) and THEN sit inside for two more hours waiting? Umm...well...I don't know about that. And then there's the fact that I might not even get it. Which would be a drag. I can't decide. I sort of want to see him because people say he is a great speaker and truthfully I haven't seen a great speaker in a long, long time. And he could be President, so there's that. I have seen several presidents (though not our current one who hasn't ever come within 100 miles of my crazy hippy town hahahahaha) and it's fun. I can't decide. I know I should go, but I should also eat lots of vegetables and I don't do that either. So, there's that.

those are the greatest?

I am about to make a Mariah Carey reference so I thought I would title this section with one of her songs. But then I realized (somewhat thankfully) that I do not know the title of a single Mariah Carey song. But, I have a bad memory for things like that so I figured I would look it up. According to her greatest hits album, I actually don't know a single one of her songs by name. I know that shrill voice and bad fashion sense anywhere, but I guess she doesn't have catchy names for her songs. Anyway, I read in People last night that Katharine McPhee (who was on American Idol which I only know from People because I don't watch the show) married some producer who is 20 years older than her. How very Mariah Carey of her. The guy is kind of balding and looks like he probably has a lot of money, but why do these girls do this? Seriously, you couldn't find someone nice who is not 20 years older than you? He is 10 years older than me and I bet we have nothing in common. And I am sure there is that whole 'confused over sudden fame and generally making bad decisions' which has brought us such things as 'From Justin to Kelly' and most of the movies Ben Affleck did after Good Will Hunting. But marriage? Shouldn't you be off dating NFL players or something? Anyway, they're going to get divorced. The end.

maybe not the best idea you've ever had
so, I posted a while ago about that Dutch kid that they think killed that girl in Aruba (everyone but People magazine readers is probably thinking huh?). Well, now they have him on tape saying exactly what happened. I guess he was being secretly videoed and admitted it to someone but then says he was just 'telling them what they wanted to hear'. Yeah, that's probably not such a good idea. Pretty much this guy needs to just stop talking indefinitely. Because clearly they don't have any evidence which is why they have let him go about eight times, so if he could just shut his trap his life would be a lot better. Here's a tip: just like you don't joke about having bombs in the security line, you don't confess to a murder that you have been questioned about just to make your friend's day. I'm just saying.

sunshine daydream

2008-02-08T07:24:00.000-08:00

because apparently the only place you're going to see the sun if you live in Wisconsin is in your daydreams. So have at it. This winter has put me in a real pisser of a mood which does not lend itself to good blogging. Not much funny happens as I bundle up and shuttle between house and car, trying to see through my eyes which are watering because of the cold and my glasses which are perennially fogged (I am sooooo cool). So, there you have it. I am sort of trying to snap out of it but pretty much it is not working. However, I have some Friday tidbits for you.

I'm sorry, have we met?

The people I work with, as I have mentioned, are not the most observant. The absent-minded professor is a stereotype not completely without merit. However, it reached new heights last Friday. I overhear two people talking in the hallway "No, no...he went back to Germany." "Really?" "Yeah, he got offered some other job and he left." I peek out and sure enough they are standing in front of an office which was occupied by an Austrian professor who was here for a year (maybe two?) and then left for a job in Germany three years ago. I am not kidding. In fact, someone else occupied that office for more than a year, and has since moved out and it has been vacant since the summer. And somehow, this person, who works in this building, and attends faculty meetings, and should at least have some vague idea of who his colleagues are was SHOCKED to find out this guy was gone. Seriously. This is what I am up against. Oh well, at least it means I can wear the same pair of pants twice in a week without worrying what anyone thinks of me. I should just be happy that no one is introducing themselves to me and asking if I like my new job which I have had for almost five years.

the fine art of being a slacker
I think it is well known that I am not the most dedicated employee around, but that is partly because I can get my work done in less time than I am in my office, so I can slack without doing a bad job. However, it has come to my attention that I have serious competition in the bad worker olympics, coming from an unlikely source. On the first floor is the office for a journal that is edited here, and they have a staff person. She is in her mid fifties (I think) and has had this job for a long time. I have often noticed that I don't see her in her office when I walk by, but have always sort of assumed that she is in a meeting or something. Not so. Apparently, she comes in, turns on her light and her computer, and leaves. The building. In her car. And goes places. No one knows where. But she has figured out, correctly, that if it LOOKS like she is just out for a minute then no one thinks too much of it. Apparently this has been going on for years. A while back, they replaced everyone's light switch with motion sensors, in an attempt to conserve energy. Apparently this woman did not let them put one in her office. Now THAT is serious dedication to being slack. Wow. I have a long way to go.

splish splash
For some reason I decided it would be fun to take baby lizard to swimming lessons. I don't want her to be scared of water, and she sort of seemed to enjoy the pool last summer so I thought 'hey - it might be nice in the middle of winter to spend some time at a steamy indoor pool'. Or, not so much. I show up for my first class last week, and because baby liz is so tiny we are doing the one where parents get in the water too. However, as I am changing into my suit I notice that all of the other moms are dressed. And their kids are a lot bigger than mine. They don't let you out of the locker room until class time, so I am standing there waiting. In my bathing suit. With a bunch of clothed women. Awesome. The only thing more awkward than standing around in your bathing suit is doing so next to a bunch of fully clothed people. So finally I make some crack about it, and it turns out there are several classes there. several of which are kids only. Finally I see some other hapless moms in suits, but I did not get the memo that I am suppose to wear shorts over my swimsuit. what? why? I mean, I don't look that fabulous in a swimsuit, but I am not sure that wearing shorts makes it better. But, all the other moms (no kidding - all of them) are wearing shorts. So I decided then and there that swimming lessons would be a great way for baby Lizard to bond with her dad and from now on he is going in the water with her. So there. As the mean teacher called out the names of all the kids in the class, she looks at me (in my suit) and says "so, will you be going in with her?" and because I am not really capable of being civil I say "no, I dress like this all the time" and she looks at me from her unfortunate wetsuit and says "I do". Boy, this is going to be fun. Also, the water and surrounding pool area were FREEZING. All the kids' teeth were chattering, and I think some of them were turning blue. No kidding. Totally not what I was hoping for. Baby Lizard was acting more like a baby koala, desperately clinging to my neck and tucking up her legs to keep them out of the arctic water. We are skipping class tomorrow. Then only six to go. Money well spent.

and a pack of camel lights, please

this morning I made kind of an embarrassing purchase at the drugstore. it wasn't so much any of the individual items, more the combination. It was worse than the time not long ago when I purchased condoms and diapers at the same time. The cashier gave me a look and I wanted to say "hey - at least I know what got me into this mess, people". But then I was thinking - man the people that work at the drugstore must see some crazy stuff. And they know a lot about you. There is nothing more personal than what a girl buys a drugstore. Well, maybe there is, but not much. Anyway, at least I wasn't buying cigarettes to go with my diapers.

A related story, just before Christmas in the trash can in the bathroom on my floor at work there was a pregnancy test. HA! I am the only person that works on this floor that is still in my child bearing years, and I would rather die than take a pregnancy test at work. Seriously. Clearly it had been done in a hurry, and everything had been torn apart and then cast aside. But somehow, the used test had ended up right on top with the result (negative) visible. haha. I thought things like that only happened in sitcoms. I mean, it was pretty clear that this person was hoping for a negative test. But why wouldn't you at least wrap up the evidence in the drugstore bag (which was cast on the floor). We spent most of the day speculating on who it could have been, decided we had no idea (once I swore a million times that it wasn't me), and went about our business. But it at least was good for a few hours of gossipy fun. And apparently everyone over fifty thinks getting pregnant is very funny and they all like to say "well it's not ME" and laugh.

Oh, a final note about pregnancy (random, I admit). I saw an ad for one of those drug studies and they said they are looking for men and women 18-25, but the women must be post-menpausal or medically sterile (?!). Umm...so basically they want to make sure that there is no way that this person will ever have a child after taking this medicine which means that the drug is no joke, and I, for one, am not interested in being a guinea pig for it. But seriously, are there post-menopausal women under the age of 25? Does that even exist?

let it snow
It snowed 13 inches here on Wednesday. It snowed and snowed and snowed all day long. People were trapped on the interstate for 24 (more?) hours, and everything is mess. The world shut down, but not the university. Despite the fact that buses stopped running, churches cancelled Ash Wednesday services, and the news was telling to you to stay home, the University did not cancel classes until 3:30pm. And then they said that despite all of the above 3rd shift workers were expected to come in to work (too bad for you if you take the bus, and good luck not crashing your car) or take vacation. Bastards. Seriously, you can't say to someone 'hey, since they are saying not to travel if you can help it and to pack emergency supplies if you must leave your house, why don't you just take the night off?' Sheesh.

In honor of the snow and poor road conditions we have decided to drive to the Twin Cities for the weekend. I am excited about a weekend with my in-laws - that is how badly I need a change of scenery. Wish us luck. Happy weekend.

p.s.

2008-01-31T14:19:00.000-08:00

that's what SHE said. heh heh.

thursday again?

2008-01-31T13:34:00.000-08:00

where time goes, I know not. let's see...

last friday I went to the urgent care clinic because I was pretty sure I had a sinus infection. I did, and it was excruciating, but I encourage you to know what the symptoms are because near as I can tell being diagnosed with one requires telling your medical professional that is what you have, and then they give you antibiotics. So, if you lean over and feel like murdering a small mammal because the pain in your eyes is so bad, then head on over to your doctor and tell them OW. So, that was fun. Anyway, I arrived at the clinic and someone there was leaving in an ambulance. Whoops. Apparently they blew the "urgent care or ER" judgment call we have all made at least once in our lives. Too bad for them.

The last time I was at urgent care was in August 2006 when I was 9 months pregnant. I had been playing badminton with some friends and on the way to get a short shot I caught the toe of my flip flop, fell on the ground (everyone gasped) and the next day my thumb was about three times its normal size and purple. I thought this was a pretty awesome injury for someone in my delicate condition. Anyway, I walked in and the receptionist looked vaguely terrified and was all ready to tell me I was in the wrong place. HA! Like I would go to that nasty germ filled clinic if I thought there was any chance I was gonna have a kid. Honestly. If I thought I was in labor would I be casually waiting in line? I don't think so. By that point in pregnancy everyone kind of looks at you like you are a freak anyway, but try going to a clinic. Turns out it was just a nasty sprain, and my thumb is looking pretty sweet in all the first pictures of baby lizard who was born just three days later. The other good thing was that they put two lead vests on me to take xrays and when they took them off that was the lightest I had felt in months.

I wish

I could suck at something as much as Eli Manning "sucks" at football. In the lounge at work last week two grad students were discussing the super bowl. One of them says "I can't believe Eli Manning is in there. Doesn't he suck?" And that, ladies and gentleman, is why it sucks to be Eli Manning. I know, I know his NFL career did not get off to that great of a start, but he was a first round draft pick. He is an NFL quarterback, making him arguably one of the 32 best quarterbacks in the country. And yet, skinny economists from Wisconsin sit around and talk about how he sucks because his brother and father are totally amazing and his brother now pimps everything possible thing on tv and seems like a super good guy. So, sorry Eli. I feel bad for you. And I wish I was as bad at something as you are.

still winter

just in case you were wondering, spring is not right around the corner here in Wisconsin. Yesterday school was closed because it was so cold out. Awesome. So, I stayed home with the kid and tried to think of ways to entertain ourselves that did not involve going outside at all for any reason. I know groundhog day is coming, but really no matter what that little chipmunk says (I know, I know, it's not a chipmunk) it is going to be winter for more than 6 more weeks around here. Do not taunt me. I have lived here long enough to know that some time in late March, just when I am thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter is almost over, it will snow two feet and THEN it will only be six more weeks until spring. Bastards. Some people say they don't want to live somewhere that doesn't have all four seasons, and while I agree with that sentiment I would like to live somewhere that the four seasons are of approximately equal length. Here we have two seasons: winter and August. blech.

I paid her to say that

So my current favorite twinkie aerobics instructor is a young woman named Jen. She's pretty awesome. I posted about her before when she asked if I was going to teach zumba. Anyway, now she is my extra super duper favorite because she was SHOCKED to find out that I have a kid. God bless her for that. Seriously, someone looking at me wide eyed and saying "you have a baby?" was so great. It meant that I still wear cool jeans and look relatively hip, things which young women assume automatically disappear the second you give birth. Maybe it's because I don't wear a giant t-shirt and some old soccer shorts while working out, or have a bad mid-length hairdo like all the other 'ladies' in my class. And while I am not sure I want anyone thinking I look like a college student (well, she did say grad student which may or may not be better) I was pretty freakin happy about the whole thing. That's how easy it is to make my day, ladies and gentleman. Tell me I don't look like hell. Seriously, that's all it takes.

ice pop anyone?

2008-01-24T10:42:00.000-08:00

my alarm goes off at 6:40 and I have it set to NPR. Apparently NPR reports the weather at 6:40:10 so just as I am contemplating getting up they tell me that it is ridiculously horribly freezing outside again so I get pissed off and hit snooze. 6:40 is too early to be angry, but this weather is really making me mad. This morning it was -10 degrees outside when I left the house. I walk around in long underwear, lined boots, gloves AND mittens (just in case I need to take off my muppet hands so I can actually do something), a giant down parka, etc. I pull up my scarf so only my eyes are showing, and I am still cold. And yet, every morning I see students walking around with no hats. NO HATS. It is -10 degrees outside and they are throwing their ears to the wolves. So, are they just not cold? Are they used to it? Do they love frostbite? What? Maybe I am just a wimp, but whatever. I will walk around like Nanuk of the North until further notice.

It is becoming more clear to me every day why everyone I know moves to Southern California and never leaves.

Practically the same thing

As I was thinking about personal drivers the other day, I remembered a story that I never got to tell you because I was on hiatus. In August I had to go to a meeting in Newark. (As an aside, Newark is every bit as awful as everyone says. Sorry to any Newarkians, but it is really a pit.) Anyway, I decided to go see my sister in Brooklyn for dinner, and then go to the hotel which was by the Newark airport. She called me a car service to get me over there. They showed up super late, and the driver (to my surprise) was an Asian woman. I believe my feelings on the driving competence of Asian women is documented here, and while I am sure there are some that are really good drivers, most are not. I assumed this woman would be an exception, since she was a professional driver after all. I was sorely mistaken. She punched the destination into her GPS, but really seemed like she had no idea where she was going. More troubling, however, was her complete disregard for basic traffic rules and practices, such as not stopping in the middle of a lane at a green light, not driving with the lane line directly centered under the middle of your car, trying not to hit people. You know, that kind of stuff. So much to my relief we get out of the city without incident and appear to be headed for New Jersey. But despite the GPS, you can tell she has no idea where she is going. She drives by what I am fairly sure is the turn off, but when I mention it she waves me off. Then I can tell she is following signs for the Marriott airport hotel, which is not where I am going. I was going to a Marriott affiliate, one mile from the airport. So I say "no, it's not the one at the airport" and she says "don't worry, don't worry". Um...it's a little late for that. After she stopped dead after entering a relatively fast moving road, and proceeded to drive (straddling the lane line) at about 35mph, I texted to my sister "I think the driver is trying to kill me." So, we get to the Marriott, I tell her that is not the Courtyard Marriott, and it is not the place that I have reservation, nor is it the place where I am meant to be at a meeting at 8am the next day and she says (get this) "Practically the same thing!". Well, perhaps. But there is one crucial difference: IT IS NOT WHERE I AM GOING. So they give her directions to the right place, we proceed to go in a circle three times, I finally demand that she hand me the directions and I order her around until we get there. Uff da. So, if you are going to get a driver I might recommend a few test drives with them, just to be safe.

is that a meth lab in your pocket?
I have had a cold/sinus thing for about a month now, and it is getting kind of old. I have forgotten what my normal voice sounds like. Seriously. Anyway, I decided I wanted some Sudafed. I did not realize purchasing Sudafed was more difficult than sneaking across the Mexico border. First, it is behind the counter, which is fine. Then, you have to show your driver's license. And THEN you have to sign for it. For one box of Sudafed. Now, I will admit, I have never made meth (and probably will never do so after the whole Matt sets himself on fire thing in Nip/Tuck) but I imagine it takes a lot of Sudafed. A lot more than one box. And I know the idea is that they want to make sure I don't buy one box here and another there and so on and so forth until I can start my own lab. But seriously, a 30-something mom with a head cold wants of box of HEAD DECONGESTANT, don't you think they could apply common sense rules? In fact, I was denied purchase of some other drug last winter because I had entered the pharmacy without my license. It's so silly. I think they should look at me: is my hair stringy? (okay, maybe that's a judgment call.) do I look too thin? (definitely not.) strung out? ( a little glassy eyed, perhaps, mostly due to the fact that I can't breathe.) And then decide if they need to go all Fort Knox on me. But, I showed them my license, signed my name, handed over my first born (she's been super cranky anyway) and got the goods. I must say, though, I can see why people like that meth stuff, because on just two Sudafed I feel perkier than I have in weeks. Yay for that.

peel me a grape

2008-01-18T08:26:00.000-08:00

This week I have been thinking about eating sugar and how, well, I shouldn't do it. I had two cavities filled, and then had to go back and have one repaired the following day, so I have been much more aware of what I put in my mouth. I have actually kind of convinced myself that all my cavities have more to do with genetics than sugar, but maybe that is just to help me sleep at night. Anyway, you know how diets will say to eat a piece of fruit instead of dessert? I am here to report that shit does not work. Just in case you were thinking of trying it.

While we are on the subject of nutrition, I got an email yesterday that was sent to a group of moms that I am friendly with. The woman had several things to share with us, including that her daughter loves Whole Foods granola bars but she hates giving her all that sugar, so she found something called a LaraBar which is sweetened with dates (blech) and filled with fruit. And she's so happy and they're so great and she and her prodigy organic baby are going to live happily ever after. And you know what: I seriously cannot take shit like that AT ALL. It drives me insane almost instantly. I had to delete them email so I would not be tempted to reread it and be filled with rage. Why? I don't know. I mean, it's innocent enough, 'I found a good thing for you to feed your kid'. But the mention of Whole Foods (which I adore) and the whole attitdue of the teh message felt like she was trying to prove what an awesome parent she was. Which she may well be, but not because she feeds her kid candied dates. I have this problem with a lot of highly educated pseudo-hippy moms (and here in Madison we have a LOT of those). If I really loved my kid I would still have her in my bed nursing all night and when we're not bonding skin to skin we would engage only in really educational activities. We would go to fancy classes for music and whatever and she would know 100 baby signs and everything would be wholesome and organic and amazing. I definitely would not work full time and leave my child with (gasp) strangers who are undoubtedly polluting both her body and her mind. Can you tell I'm bitter about this? Of course it's only because of my own insecurity about parenting choices but at least I do not send out emails about them. So after reading that message I stuffed baby lizard full of swedish fish and fanta, let her watch a lot of inappropriate television and sent her to bed. so there.

(Okay, I actually started this post last Thursday, and am now finishing on Monday.) I saw said earth mama at a girls' night out on Thursday. It came to light that she and her husband were "semi professional" salsa dancers when they lived in DC. Of course they were. She also said that she is hoping to get a job, but she currently can't find "suitable" child care. She knows I work which basically means she is telling me I use unsuitable child care...so, see previous paragraph. alas.

It's snowing again here. How novel! We had these huge mounds of snow after December, and then miraculously we had a January thaw. While I kind of missed the high stakes game of peekaboo that you have to play every time you turn a corner since the plow mounds were so high you couldn't see around them, it was nice to see the ground again. But, it didn't last. Fortunately I was lamenting not having taken a picture of baby lizard in huge snow mounds, so now I will get my chance. It has also been insanely freezing which is a total drag. Did you see all those crazy people at the Packers game with no shirts on? There is no need for that. You can cheer in a sweatshirt. Honestly. I have come to the conclusion that I really hate driving in the snow, and I think I would really enjoy having a personal driver. Unfortunately I had to take my car to the dealer to get fixed because it had a problem only the dealer can fix. It was a big fancy dealership and they have free snacks and coffee and internet and all other kinds of stuff. When I made my appointment they asked if I would like to use their shuttle service. YES, yes I would. So this nice young man gave me a ride to work, and even stopped at my house on the way to pick up something I forgot. How awesome is that? Then he picked me back up and took me to get my car. I am totally mystified as to why all those silly little starlets get DUIs. Girls, hire a driver. 1) It's so much nicer than driving yourself; 2) you can afford it; and 3) you won't get arrested nearly as often. Everybody wins. So, if I ever get super rich (which I really don't see happening, but I think it is important to plan ahead) I think I would like to have driver. Actually, I guess the bus is kind of the ghetto version of having a driver, and even that isn't so bad. But the personal driver thing is way better.

An aside on the trip to the dealer: I looked at my car as I was getting out and was kind of humiliated at the condition of the interior. It is very child abused, and there was an entire ziploc of cheerios that baby lizard had dumped on the floor and I hadn't had time (or inclination) to vacuum up. There was an assortment of things strewn across the back seat, etc. You know how it is. But my favorite part is that they bring out those paper things and put them on the floor to protect the mats. I want to say "did you not see the baby bomb shrapnel in the back seat? did you not notice that a family of mice could eat for a year off the cheerios in the back? do you really think you need to protect my mats?" But, they did. They also washed the exterior of my car, probably to help themselves sleep better at night.

Last week was a week of maintenance. I got my drain fixed, my teeth fixed, and my car fixed. Make no mistake about it, my life is very glamorous. Getting older, owning a house and having kids all help you be so carefree! Blech.

etc

2008-01-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

on Thursday I went to pick our babysitter for the basketball game. Unfortunately our sitter who can drive herself to our house appears to have fallen in love with a Frenchman and is now studying abroad for the second time in three semesters. Boo to that. Anyway, teh babysitters's mother says "Do you want to bring The Closer DVD?" and she replies "No, I'm bringing Vonnegut." hahaha. I love it. It is so classic college freshman cool I can hardly stand it. She goes to school in Montana and usually her sister babysits, but she is home on break and has a later weeknight curfew. Sure as shit, she was laying on the couch reading Vonnegut when we got home. Very busy being worldly and intellectual. Her sister is always doing homework when we come home, even on a Friday. I babysat A LOT as a younger person and I do not think I was ever doing homework when anyone came home. Ever. It's too bad none of them watch TV because that is our greatest amenity. We have HBO. We never have much of anything good to eat, but we do have entertainment. Our voyaging babysitter is always simultaneously watching some movie on cable and checking her email when we get home which is, frankly, as it should be. (This coming from the girl who loves American Gladiators, so perhaps a grain of salt is necessary.)

Speaking of American Gladiators, I know everyone is saying that it is what is wrong with TV with the writers strike, but I beg to differ. At least it is entertaining. Deal or No Deal...THAT is what is wrong with TV. That show is so boring it makes my eyes bleed. Basically it is a flashy class in basic probability, and never have I made it through more than 5 minutes, and that time I think I might actually have been temporarily paralyzed by boredom and distress and was unable to turn the TV off. I did feel kind of sad for the people that won Golden Globes last night and had to settle for having their names unceremoniously read by two people they picked up off the street. I know awards shows are kind of silly, but still. They won and people usually care that you win so you should get to win at a party instead of a press conference. And I will miss all the fashion police pictures and catty commentary. Boo.

Last night in the grocery store I thought I had lucked out because I found a checker with no line. Then I looked at her and thought maybe she was retarded, but then I reminded myself that usually those people are the baggers, so I proceeded. I was fishing out my bags (side note: I bring my own paper bags to the store. Grocery stores hate this. They do not want my old, wrinkled, mismatched bags, as they are not nearly as convenient to fill. However, they are not supposed to say anything so they just give you this look like "f'ing tree hugger" and begrudgingly give you your 10 cents off. Ha. I win.) and as I turn around I see she is smearing chapstick all over the backs of her hands. Ew. It's cold, and it's winter, and I am no stranger to skin revolting at the harsh conditions, but seriously. Chapstick? On your hands? While handling food? Ew. At this point I decided it was too late to tell her I did not want some waxy freak filling my well loved bags, so I just went ahead. Unfortunately, she was also slow as molasses. Rather than just scan all the items through and then bag, she would pick and choose the next item based on what she wanted to put in the bag. Do you have any idea how long this takes? About 4o times as long as normal. Seriously. And she was totally grouchy. As an impulse purchase (and I am not necessarily proud about this) I had gotten some malted milk balls from the bulk food. This proved to be highly erroneous. First she reported she had no idea what the code was for "malted milk or whatever this was" and rather than, say, look it up, she just put them back on the belt. Like magically the problem would solve itself. Finally some other employee went to check, but by the end of the whole debacle I was seriously regretting my purchase. So I ate them all on the way home and pretended it never happened. That gave me the energy I needed to de-chapstickify my remaining purchases.

happy monday.

it's friday.

2008-01-11T09:42:00.000-08:00

"No, really John. Thanks a lot for the endorsement. I mean...it's great. I..um...appreciate it. Maybe it would be best if we didn't hang out a lot together or anything. Just so, you know, the other candidates don't feel jealous. Or whatever."

haha. In fairness, this is a 2004 photo and I am sure does not actually reflect how Barack feels, but still. (I stole this from the nytimes.com it is an AP Photo and I am sure they have the copyright.) The other good news about this being a 2004 photo is that it kind of explains the LiveStrong bracelet which otherwise would be kind of tragic. I find it funny that they picked this picture, though today they have one of Obama looking much happier about the whole thing. But maybe they were trying to say that Obama (whose initials are unfortunatly B.O. which probably caused him some trouble at some point in his youth) might not be leaping for joy. Is an endorsement from John Kerry really all that great? Apparently even the Kerry camp isn't sure that it is, since they held the announcement until after the New Hampshire primary since they were not sure what the 'political impact' would be. I mean, the guy couldn't beat George Bush when he ran the SECOND time. So really, that doesn't say that many great things about him. But oh well, Obama can put him on the list and make him go places and say nice things about him. But let's be honest: he is better off with Oprah on his side than John Kerry, which is probably a sad statement about American politics but there you have it.

I actually watched live coverage of the New Hampshire primary the other night, which has to be a first for me. It was quite exciting! Although MSNBC was seriously abusing their fancy new technology, all of which is very iPhone-esque. Sometimes the reporters were so enamored with showing off the way they could move photos around that their accompanying commentary made no sense. Hopefully they will tone it down a little over the course of the election. I love democracy, and I love voting, so I am happy that everyone is so excited about it. This is going to be quite the election year indeed.

go big red

last night we got to go to a UW basketball game which was super fun as always. They were playing Illinois and it's funny for me to see Bruce Weber right there on the floor since for me he is one of those tiny people who lives in my television. I watch a lot of college hoops so I see all the coaches on TV, but then I get kind of confused when I see them live. Fortunately our basketball arena has a fancy scoreboard with a TV so if I get overwhelmed I can just watch there. haha. A few years ago Dick Vitale came to do the commentary on a Badger game. I was nearly beside myself, and forced my husband to go stalk him with me at our local Borders where he was signing his book. Since I had absolutely no interest in actually purchasing the book, and you really could only get him to talk to you if you were asking him to sign it, I pretended to be browsing the shelves around his table for a while. I am such a dork. I mostly wanted to know if he talks like that in real life and the answer is mostly yes, but he's a lot calmer. It was kind of cool because there were two high school boys there and he asked the first one if he played basketball (of course he did) and then he said do you know (insert name of good h.s. player here) and his friend said "that's me!" HA! How awesome would it be to have Dick Vitale know who you are before he met you? Apparently the kid was a top prospect and so Dickie V asked him where he wanted to go and the guy said Stanford and Dick told him to keep his grades up. Good suggestion. Anyway, there I was skulking in the aisles pretending to look at cookbooks or something. My life is very glamorous.

So, I was watching the cheerleaders to tricks last night, and they have some good ones. I don't think cheerleading in general is all that great, as a no look pass makes me want to 'Get On My Feet and Make Some Noise!' more than some co-ed in a short skirt holding a piece of posterboard that says "GO!" but still. I can't do flips or hoist other girls onto my shoulders so I shouldn't judge. I think I really got turned off to cheerleading because my high school and my university did not allow stunts, and cheerleading without stunts is boring. Here, the dance team does cheerleading without stunts and they shuffle around in their horrible nude tights and soft shoes and wave their pom poms and do not get anyone excited about anything. At Duke, they banned stunts because some girl years ago got very seriously injured, so they decided cheerleaders should not really leave the ground. This just shows that cheerleading is not a sport. Can you imagine if Duke decided they would only play touch football because someone got hurt? I mean, I feel badly for the girl who got dropped on her head, but that is a risk that you take when you engage in physical endeavors. Anyway, it meant all the cheers were boring but I have a new appreciation since here they do lots of flips and stuff. The end.

finally it is the weekend which is good news because baby Lizard has decided that sleeping lots of hours in a row is really not her cup of tea which is causing mama Lizard to be extremely cranky and look like hell. so hopefully I will be back up to par next week.

Go Packers!

american gladiators

2008-01-08T10:56:00.000-08:00

If you have not watched the return of American Gladiators, you should. I got very excited when I saw the ad for this on tv. Very excited. I have very fond, nostalgia-fueled memories of watching this show while wasting late morning hours in the summertime. I knew all the gladiators, probably had a crush on at least one of them, and would get heart pumpingly involved in every episode. I am extremely happy to report that it is just as good as it always was. From the cheesy forced smack talking, to the Gladiators' lame-o signature moves, to the excitment of watching physical battle, it's all there. They have not ruined it at all. And let me tell you something - it looks hard! So, I am not really very strong, and not especially athletic. For most of the events it would go something like this "Eek! Sploosh!" Since it now seems that losing almost every challenge involves falling in water. When Laila Ali interviewed me she would say "So, Lizard, another tough event with no points. What are you going to do to get back in this match?" And I would have to say something like "Well, Laila, I'm a fighter. I mean, I don't want to fight you or any other real fighter, but still. I didn't get here by giving up. So I am just going to give it my best shot." Even though everyone would know I was in for another half hour of getting my ass kicked, perhaps culminating in a show ending injury when some other poor soul would have to take my place and get my zero points. So I have decided that perhaps it is not wise for me to try to go on the show, but I am going to try to convince every single physically fit person I know to do so. My sister-in-law is really strong. She should do it. I would totally help her pick her name.

One sad thing was there was a contestant who had been trying to get on the show since it was on the air last time. Fourteen years ago. Seriously, it seemed like this was his big dream for the last 14 years. He was supposed to be on there in te 90s but got stuck in traffic and missed his chance, and finally got the opportunity to live out his dream. Unfortunately, in the end he got schooled by this tiny asian dude and had to cry about it on national tv. Oops. So much for that dream. Better luck next time.

long strange trip indeed.

2008-01-08T10:52:00.000-08:00

Okay, the last you heard from me I was taking a day off to prepare for my vacation. Unfortunately part of that day was spent at the mall with all the marginal teenage help that seems to materialize this time of year. The highlight perhaps was the salesgirl at a children’s clothing shop who, when I inquired about holiday dresses said to me “um…they came in in October, so all we have left is going to be here on the clearance rack” with such an air of superiority that I could have smacked her. She might as well have said “all the moms who actually love their children bought their dresses months ago”. Little witch. Did it ever occur to you that myabe, just maybe, I had something better to do in OCTOBER than shop for holiday wear? So I showed her and bought what I can only imagine was a spring dress which she clearly did not approve of. I wanted to tell her the only reason I was even patronizing her wretched establishment was because I got a gift from there that did not fit.

Anyway, several days of preparation ensued and then it was time to head East. On Saturday morning the airline called to say our flight was late. No problem, we were flying direct so would just delay our departure from home. Then they called again to say it would be later. Still no big deal. We dropped off the dog, wasted a couple of hours on the other side of town and headed to the airport, only to find out that the entire airport was closed, our flight was cancelled, and there were no options for at least two days, maybe longer. Um….so…when you called me to say my flight was leaving at 3pm that was…wishful thinking? A ruse? What? And they felt that cancellation wasn’t news that should be delivered via phone, and it would be much more fun to tell me in person? So we unknowingly step into mass chaos, and are told that we can get on a bus that is leaving in 15 minutes for Minneapolis (a five hour ride) spend the night, and we are booked (though not given seats) on a flight that is supposed to leave at 7:15 the next morning. This all seems like a really, really bad idea. A quick family huddle later, we decide to drive. It was a rash decision at best, and a completely foolish one at worst, but before I have time to think too hard about it I get back in line, cancel my tickets and request a refund, and head for the door. We did not go home, we did not pass go, we just got on the highway and started driving east. Things I wish I had with me for a cross country drive: a map, some toys for the kid, some food for the kid, some Benadryl for the kid, our I-Pass and, um…I guess that’s it. The first three were solved by an extensive convenience store run, the latter I wished for again when she was bright eyed and bushy tailed in the middle of West Virginia at 1am. I think my mother was a touch alarmed when I called and asked her to get on the computer and get us directions. "From where?" she says. "Um...Madison to Charlottesville?" And so we headed that way, armed with a list of interstates scribbled on the back of a receipt that I found in my car door. Who needs plans? It was all very spontaneous and potentially exciting and romantic, but truthfully there is nothing romantic about driving through Ohio so in the end it was functional. And we arrived a least 6 hours earlier than we would have had we come via airplane. So there.

The drive from here to VA is not all that great. Chicago, Indianapolis, Dayton, Charleston. Heading for a city and carefully counting the miles only to realize that now there is just another city and another set of miles. At some point we need to stop (for like the billionth time, traveling unprepared with a small child is not an exercise in efficiency) and we are getting mileage readings for the town of Chillicothe, OH so we decide to head there. We pull off at the first exit, and we are seriously in a town that time forgot. We see a gas station, but upon closer inspection realize it’s closed. We stop at a scary convenience store, and pray they have a bathroom (they do not) and ask for the nearest gas station which is several blocks through town but 24 hours. I was forced to use their bathroom which was one of those weird quasi-public restrooms where it kind of seems like it is for employees only and has a bunch of weird stuff stashed in there. You couldn’t wash your hands in the sink because it was full. You know, that kind of place. Usually on interstates you get to stop at these huge over lit gas stations will full grocery stores and inexplicably friendly employees, but not in Chillicothe. Actually, maybe in Chillicothe as we realized later that the next exit looked much more promising, and much less horror movie-esque. Mr. Lizard made the decision to drive straight through, so we did. We hit some crazy fog in the West Virginia mountains at a time of day when no sane soul is awake, feared for our lives, but eventually made it to my parents’ house at 6 am. Good times. The lowlight of the trip: watching my one year old stuff 24-hour McDonald’s French fries into her piehole at 1am. The highlight: the beauty of NPR podcasts, which mean you can listen to Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me in the middle of the night anywhere in America. Bless my husband for brining along his iPod.

Then the usual week of holiday craziness ensued. Too many people in too little space but it was fun to see my nieces and nephew, and wallow in pent up family issues for a while. The whole trip had the dark cloud of the drive back hanging over it, but in the end it was really easy and actually might have convinced me to drive again if the need arose. While in VA we purchased a portable DVD player and some movies, something which I highly recommend if you are planning on driving 15 hours with a midget. Worth every penny.

Things have been kind of chaotic since we got back but not in an interesting way so we’ll leave it at that. Hopefully regular posting will now resume in earnest.

2007-12-18T13:04:00.000-08:00

Well, we survived Christmas Round 1 with my husband's relatives. We got to have turkey dinner and exchange presents, and do other Christmas-y things one week early, and next week we get to do it all again! Someone gifted baby Lizard this and while I am anti-plastic battery operated toys, especially pink ones drowning in princesses, of course she loves it. It has bazillions of buttons you can push and it makes noise and spins and flashes and beeps. At its heart, it is a fun toy - you can push it around with your feet and it has a secret storage bin under the seat, and what kid doesn't love things with wheels? In fact, we had a very similar toy that was a little bus, but in good 1970s fashion it did not have batteries. It just had a little red plastic air horn and a picture of people riding in it on the side. I don't really understand why all the toys these days must be so elaborate. In fact, the buttons on Baby Lizard's new bus are so distracting to her that she does not move it around, she just sits on it and activates all the noises. Which kind of ruins the whole idea, you know? The real reason I oppose all these battery operated toys is that they encourage passive play - you just sit there and make them do their thing rather than having to do anything to them, which I have to imagine is not good for our brains. Just like maybe it is not good for our brains to have toothbrushes that tell us how long to brush, when to switch sides, how hard to brush, etc. (Thanks Nicole!) I mean, maybe it is actually good for us to have to think about things once in a while, wouldn't you agree? Maybe we should take charge of things such as how long to brush our teeth. I worry that kids are going to be really lazy because they are going to want the life-version of the magic princess bus, and rather than wanting to figure things out they will just want someone to figure them out for them and tell them which button to push.

We were discussing the devolution of American intellect this weekend after playing the board game version of "Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?" While I have only seen the show a couple of times, and have never lasted the whole half hour, I do recall there being questions that were kind of hard. I mean, nothing that you shouldn't know, but definitely some things that I didn't remember. But the board game version sucks. The questions are ridiculously easy and the format is really boring. However, this is beside the point. What we were talking about is that we went from Trivial Pursuit, which was very hard, to Trivial Pursuit Millennium edition which was substantially easier, to Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, which was easier still, to 5th Grader. No wonder the Chinese are preparing to take over the world. They have figured out how to generate thousands of students that basically ace their GREs in their non-native tongue, and we are playing board games that ask questions like "what are numbers that are less than zero called?" In fairness, there are some harder questions thrown in there, but there is a lot of fluff. Also, we decided that board games based on TV shows are a bad idea. All the fun board games are just board games. Especially since it is a lot less exciting when there is no money involved. This is sort of a fatal flaw in board games based on game shows. The real question is - how many bad game shows are they going to invent while the writers are on strike? My guess is a lot. And I am not sure I can handle one more ad for America's next whatever. However, I am happy that my old summer buddy Project Runway is back. Good times.

Is it a sad commentary on my life that a 50th birthday party I attended on Friday for a guy I work with was one of the most fun parties I have been to in a while? In fairness, he is much more fun than your average 50 year old, and he cooks incredible food, and the wine was free flowing. Not to mention that he bought new speakers and has a love affair with iTunes. overall it was a good time.

I have decided I need a day off to prepare for my vacation which is a clear indicator that I have been a state employee for just a little bit too long.

all my favorite places

2007-12-13T13:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to the post office, the grocery store and Walmart. what a day! first, the post office. wow. I mean, it's particularly bad around the holidays, but seriously. That place is a mess. it is one of the only places where you can show up completely unprepared for your transaction and someone helps you figure it out. my post office has a high concentration of old people, which I have discussed before, which just adds and extra layer of excitement. I love looking at the faces of the people in line while the old lady at the counter holds up a wrapped gift and says "I need to send this to California", and instead of sending her home to read about things like addresses, the worker says "well, let's see if we can find you a box!" he had her write the address on a sticker and she says "I don't have the zip code. I can remember the one for Los Angeles, but not this other one." Call me crazy, but I have a sneaking suspicion that LA has more than one zip code. I'm just guessing. I think Madison has about 15, and although I have never been there, I had always sort of assumed that LA was bigger. But maybe all those celebrities I see on TV are actual size? and the whole city is miniature? If that's the case, I must go there on vacation ASAP.

Also in the post office was a sort of tired looking mom and her child who appeared to be about 2 years old. While the mother was distracted by complicated questions about customs forms, which of course she had not filled out, the child wandered off to go play with some decorative mailers. The mother came over and spoke to her quite nicely in some language which I could not recognize at all, but then I saw that her boxes all said Slovenia so I will assume it was...Slovenian? Does that exist? I feel bad, as I have a job that means I should know things like what the speak in Slovenia and where Malawi is, but I have no idea. (Okay, I just looked it up and Slovenian is correct, and it appears to be about as easy to understand as Hungarian.) Anyway, kids speaking other languages always makes them look like geniuses, though of course I realize that doesn't make any sense. But then she spoke in the international language of mom and deposited said child on the counter where she could not run away and handed her a bunch of random literature about how to change your address or something, and the kid was happy as a clam.

So, on to the grocery store. In the produce section, I came across and old woman perusing the summer squash, and she starts telling me she is looking for smaller ones. She hates leftovers. But, you know what she does with them? Puts them in a pan with some mushrooms and her secret ingredient: ranch dressing. "No one ever notices." haha. So I run into her again many aisles later and I smile at her since she has recently divulged her culinary secrets and she gives me a totally blank look. And then I realized: she talks to people she doesn't know all the time, so this was not a memorable encounter. I, on the other hand, generally do not talk to people I do not know so it stuck with me. heh.

And finally Walmart. Well, I didn't like it. It is absolutely huge and they sell everything known to man for ridiculously cheap prices. But I say if you can sell the world's largest gift basket of headache-inducing smelly bath products for $14.88, and the person who owns the company is a billionaire, there is a rat somewhere in that business model. I fully admit that if I was on a very tight budget I would feel differently about Walmart, though I think I would try to just not buy stuff rather than buy it there. But everything there is really, really ridiculously cheap. It's insane. I bet people buy a lot of things they don't need because it is so cheap. And then you think Walmart is great because you got a lot of stuff for a little amount of money, but you don't need it anyway. And that is the genius of Walmart.

heads up
I arrived at work this morning and the door I usually use is blocked off with caution tape and there is a sign that says "Watch for falling ice!" And sure enough, there are a bunch of big, busted ice chunks sitting on the front step. effing winter.

jinx, buy me a coke
there is a radio ad for replacement windows that I hear often that says "the bad thing about windows is they let the outside in - they are the jinx in your home's armor." The jinx? In my armor? Are you sure you don't mean chinks in my armor? I have listened closely for weeks, hoping that I was just hearing wrong, but alas....I am not. things like this make me cranky.

monkey see
this morning baby lizard was standing by the couch when the dog walked in the room. she looked right at him and lifted her leg up to the side. hahahaha. kids are awesome.

all I want for Christmas

2007-12-12T10:16:00.000-08:00

has it really been almost a week since I posted? where does the time go?

what I want for Christmas is to be turned in to one of those people who starts Christmas shopping in July and is totally done two weeks before Thanksgiving. but, well, I am not that person. And so I suffer with the hordes and end up saying things like "I think grandma would really like a copy of American Pie 2 on DVD". sigh.

Last weekend we went shopping. Since I had basically nothing in hand, I figured it was time. I went to a store that is basically a hunting supply store. I will not bore you with the details of why I went there, but the sad truth is that there were several things on my list that merited a trip. Seriously. So, everyone in there is looking at me like surely I took a wrong turn at the Gap, but I bravely plow ahead. I inspect the gloves, look for kids' boots, and while searching for some binoculars I somehow ended up in the ammunition aisle (!). Knowing I was lost, I hung a right at which point I ended up at the gun counter, and I thought - it must be strange to work here and stand around showing people weapons all day. However, I had no time to waste, so I left them to peer through scopes and discuss the merits of the various methods of killing deer. While baby lizard played with the cabinet doors of a gun rack (I swear I am not making any of this up) I decided they really didn't have what I was looking for. So, while giving some thought to the purpose of blaze orange camouflage - isn't the WHOLE POINT of blaze orange that it is NOT camouflage? - I collected my things and left. Several fruitless searches later, we went home nearly empty-handed and much worse for wear.

One item I was looking for was a particular CD. I looked at a big box store, and since I was unable to find a young, unhelpful salesperson I simply gave up when I could not find it. The next day I decided to shop downtown, went in to a cool local record store, somewhat shamefully asked for the CD, and was told I can only get it at Walmart. NO SIR. What is this? Why must I buy music at Starbucks and Walmart? This is a great problem for me, because I had kind of settled on this as my gift, but I do not shop at Walmart. Ever. I have been there twice, once to pick up an international visitor who wanted to do some shopping for her kids, and once while in a town that has no other store. I do not care that they have the lowest prices. They have abhorrent policies and I do not wish to patronize them. And yet, now, because of this dumb CD I have to. You can also buy it directly from the band, which I would if I had time for things like shipping. And in general I would want to support the band, but the truth is I do not want to support a band that made an exclusive deal with Walmart. REO Speedwagon played at Walmart here. And while they will tell you that they are trying to reach people who still buy CDs, I say that playing Walmart has to feel like a career low point. ugh.

There's going to be a white Christmas here in Madison, though I am going to miss it. It will not stop snowing, so unless global warming hurries up and gets its butt to Madison tout de suite we are going to have a white Christmas. Seriously, the snow here is like trick candles. Just when you think it's over and you have carefully shoveled it all up, it starts again. So here we are, in the spit covered cake that is Madison, with giant plow piles and dirty snow, wondering why anyone ever thought a white Christmas was such a good idea. They have literally started hauling the piles of snow out of town in trucks. I cannot imagine where they take it, but I am sure I do not want to go there on vacation.

don't tell baby lizard but we aren't really buying her Christmas presents. Other people will, so we figure this is probably the last year when we can get away with not. I mean how silly is it for me to buy something, drag it across the country, wrap it up, hand it to her, watch her stick it in her mouth, and then have her lose interest while I am one-third of the way in to ripping off the paper that I put on there in the first place? So, yeah. No gifts for her. However, you will all be happy to know that in honor of the holiday season we are walking. All four of us.

tell me about yourself

2007-12-06T12:55:00.000-08:00

For the past two days I was in job interviews for an open position in my department. This is the first time I have been to a job interview when I was not the interviewee, and let me tell you: it has been painful. Regulations require that we ask each person all the same questions, and somehow the list is 25 questions long. Do you know how excruciating this is? And do you know what crappy answers most people give? It’s dreadful. There were five people, two of which were qualified, two of which were nearly incomprehensible (unfortunately this included one qualified person), and one who already works here. Umm…yeah. That’s not awkward. We’re hiring a supervisor for this person because they cannot get their job done, so they applied for the new position and we have to ask questions like “Why do you want this job?” but what we want to ask is “Please explain, in detail, how you will not royally screw up this job, even though you cannot do an easier job.”

One guy gets humor points for answering “What are your career goals?” with “Get this job!” And this other woman should be in marketing and not finance because for one position on her resume which is clearly telemarketing it says “Achieving set targets by friendly persistence/objection handling”. Hahaha. That means she’s the person that when you say “I don’t want long distance” says “I understand that Ms. Lizard but what I need to tell you is that these are amazing rates that you really cannot pass up.” “I want to pass them up.” “Well, I can appreciate that but did I mention that it comes with caller ID? And if you sign up right now we will raise your rates at no extra charge to you?” We did not hire her but we did order $50K in home and garden supplies.

Remarkably, I think we found someone to hire. But the real issue is that pretty much we are on the Titanic here and the new person will be like the patch kit that comes with a rubber raft. I feel like chicken little because I try to tell everyone here that things are not going well and they act really interested in that fact and call me in for a meeting, close the door, pretend to listen, offer me a piece of candy, send me back to my office and promptly do nothing. I have been doing this for two years straight. So now I just send emails that say things like “In case you care, it’s your ass that will have to pay back that $150K accounting error, not mine. Have a great day!” Remember those commercials with the guy working with a bunch of monkeys? Yeah, it’s kind of like that. We had an extra hour in between two interviews because the person who scheduled them did not realize that 11:45 is not one hour and 15 minutes after 9:30. Which is funny, since I sort of count being able to tell time as one of life’s more basic skills, but apparently it is not required by the state worker aptitude test.

Brrr…
The weather here has been horrendous. Even for Wisconsin in winter. So, if anyone lives somewhere warm and has a room they would like to rent to me and the baby Lizard please let me know. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and the post office near my house. Unfortunately for me, these places are also close to several retirement homes, which means that there are often lots of old people shopping and generally milling about. Do you know how slowly old women walk in the snow? The only thing slower is old women driving in the snow. And to make things even more exciting, there is tons of rental property nearby which is inhabited by a lot of graduate students, including a lot of Asians. I find that many of these people are not that good at driving because they have only learned to drive recently and the best way to be a bad driver is to start when you are over 30. There is something useful about learning to drive when you are a foolish, reckless 16 year old. You know, build your confidence while you’re too dumb to be scared. Anyway, if one of your new year’s resolutions is to be more patient, I have a recommendation for you: drive around my neighborhood for several hours in the snow. Seriously. If you do not end up jumping out of your car and beating an old lady over the head with her cane and/or screaming ‘get off the road’ more than once then you have reached your goal! Congratulations!

It seemed like a good idea
Yesterday I was shopping for a birthday present for my mother. I bought her some books, and the bookstore was offering free wrapping. This seemed great! I could get it wrapped right away, drop it at the post office and be done. So I took it back there to three bored looking high school girls. I had three books and they decided to each wrap one. After much mis-measuring of paper and excessive use of tape, the packages were handed back to me. And, well, they looked like my kid wrapped them. Seriously. It was terrible. I dropped a few bucks in the donation box anyway (it was for charity, after all) and tried to decide whether I could send these kindergarten crafts projects to my mother, who is an impeccable wrapper. Upon weighing the alternatives, I decided to just go for it and hope she doesn’t notice, which of course she will. I also had something wrapped at a toy store the other day and it took them about 20 minutes. I have now learned my lesson, and will wrap everything myself even though I really hate wrapping. Or else I will skip the wrapping and hand out the presents saying “Surprise! It’s what it says on the box!”

101 posts!

2007-12-04T19:42:00.000-08:00

this is my 101st post, and my second lazy post of the day. I will aim for a good one tomorrow. however, here are the results of picture day.

my first baby

2007-12-04T13:12:00.000-08:00

this is my dog baraboo. he says 'how YOU doin?'

hello winter

2007-12-02T19:02:00.000-08:00

well, I suppose I knew winter was here when on the radio the other day they said "it's going to be nice today: 29 and sunny". yikes. You know, it seems crazy when they say it, but today I found myself saying "it's pretty warm out" when it was 34 degrees. And the truth is, that in Wisconsin in winter you have to appreciate 34 for what it is, namely not THAT bad. And while I always feel pretty depressed this time of year about the endless months of impending cold, I am kind of used to it. It's going to be harder with a kid, that's for sure. Last winter I just zipped her into her little carrier inside my coat and she had no idea it was cold. Now, not so much. And no one has bothered to tell my dog that this weather is horrendous. Yesterday it snowed for a while, and then it started sleeting. Lovely. When this happens, I hibernate. I do not drive in the snow if I can possibly avoid it. Last night I was forced to go out with my dog who was so excited about the snow he nearly exploded. So finally I got to a place where I let him run and chase squirrels and he was so happy. Unfortunately for him, every animal with half a brain (a category which lamentably does not include my dog and apparently does include squirrels) was hiding somewhere warm so he just had to run in circles which didn't bother him one bit. I also do not shovel. That is why I married someone from Minnesota. He spent hours this morning shoveling the world's heaviest snow, and he did it in a t-shirt. I wish I was kidding. anyway, it's winter. the end.

On Friday it was cold, so I picked my dog up before going to get my kid so he could run around without my creating a popsicle baby. I came home and he could tell something was up. He sat there staring at me with one ear cocked back. Our 'conversation' went something like this:

dog: sayit sayit sayit sayit sayit
me: what's up buddy?
dog: sayit sayit sayit saythemagicword sayit sayit
me: do you wanna go for a ride?
dog:omigod omigod omigod omigod (running around like a madman) shesaidit shesaidit shesaidit
me: ride? (at this point just egging him on because it is really fun to make someone's day)
dog: *delirously running around trying not to pee in the house out of excitement*

and off we went. He had a great time, as always. And I thought: I wish I was as easy to please as my dog. I cannot remember the last time someone genuinely made my day. I mean, you say "oh, that totally made my day" but usually whatever happened does not make a whole day. A few hours, perhaps, but the whole day? My dog goes ballistic for shreds of cheese, the word ride, the word cookies, a bone, and any number of other things. And you know, the kid is kind of the same. She is still new enough to communication that when she asks for something by name (a rare occurrence) and it magically appears it still kind of amazes her. She also gets really excited about breakfast everyday. By the time I get to her tray with today's delicacy (say, scrambled eggs) she is almost beside herself. Often she will go so far as to shriek with delight over a toaster waffle. I think I need to absorb some of that attitude from my dependents. In fact, we all do. Wouldn't the world be a happier place? (Though, come to think of it if someone cooked breakfast for me everyday I would be pretty effing excited. Though, I don't do shrieking.)

things I have been meaning to post

1. is it really true that cops have quotas for speeding tickets? I always thought that was baloney until on Wednesday and Thursday I saw four people pulled over and three other speed traps. It was November 28th and 29th. Coincidence? You be the judge.

2. People magazine gives me lots of blog fodder. From this week alone:
Apparently Dennis Quaid's trophy wife is his soulmate. How convenient for him that his soul's mate is housed in the body of a leggy 36 year old blond. If you were Meg Ryan (who if I recall was responsible for their divorce and briefly dated Colin Farrell - by the way where the hell is that guy? - so perhaps who is she to judge) wouldn't you be kind of pissed? They were married for a long time and know he's telling everyone that *this* is the person for him. I guess it happens all the time.

Valerie Bertinelli says that after dieting persimmons are her new favorite snack. Valerie Bertinelli is a liar.

Note to the crazy Dutch kid who they keep arresting for killing that girl in Aruba: it is probably no advisable to write a book about the situation, and in said book say "Lying became a habit because it makes things so much easier." oops. Now that he is in custody again I bet hie wishes he could take that back.

Also, in the letter section, someone calls Katie Holmes out for her 5.5 hour marathon time which was listed in People as 'respectable'. Ha. No it's not. Now, I can't run a marathon but I think I could walk one (without training) in about 6.5 hours. So, if I practiced walking fast I could probably do it in 6, maybe even 5.5 So, the guy who wrote the letter ran the marathon in 2:36 (i.e. FAST) and called her time 'disrespectful to the marathon'. haha. Mr. Lizard has a personal best time of 2:29 (FAST) and he agreed that 5:29 is an abomination. This is reason #254 that we hope baby Lizard gets her athletic genes from her father.

with all that celeb gossip, crazy true crime stories, and general insanity, I do not understand why everyone in America does not read People. Trust me, it will make your day.

3. We do a secret Santa gift exchange with my husband's step family (don't get me started - yet another reason to stay together for the kids). I always get his grandpa. Well, I have had him three out of four years I think. The other year I got his step dad. This year I have his uncle (guess I hope they don't read this!) and on his list is an oil pump filter from some outdoor store. I am not kidding. Oh, with extra filters. I guess I will wrap those separately to build the suspense. Why can't I get one of the girls?? I might actually enjoy shopping for my sister in law or step-aunt-in-law (haha). Oh well, maybe next year.

I need to get a notebook. I had more things but I forgot them all. oh well. another day.

stick people

2007-11-29T13:41:00.000-08:00

just before my aerobics class on Tuesday (is it soooooo dorky that I take aerobics? be honest!) there are a group of people that practice a martial art that involves very long sticks. they wear funny pants and take the whole thing very seriously. they look at us aerobicisers with a great deal of contempt. I will admit, following some peppy undergrad while doing pointless moves is definitely not the coolest or most exciting way to burn calories, but it works for me. someone makes sure that I don't get lazy and that I exercise for a full hour, and more importantly someone else decides what you do. it's brainless. anyway, the stick people. I know they think that they are achieving some higher level of being with their sticks, and that we are foolishly wasting our precious moments here on earth step-tapping, but seriously: get over yourselves. I used to do martial arts. while I lived in boston I kickboxed. not cardio kickboxing, real kick and punch a solid object kickboxing. we only sparred on fridays and that was my least favorite part, but really wailing on something with a solid right cross is super fun. And I'll admit I was in the best shape of my life (which is not saying all that much). But anyway, I get tired of the way they look at me and make a big production of putting away their sticks. So the other day a bunch of them were walking out as I was walking in and one of the women had a huge, serious, stick- shaped bruise right across her cheek. oi. that's a good reason to do aerobics. who's sorry now, stick lady?

I told you
we love the Packers. on my way to the gym today there were no fewer than 20 people standing on the stairs of the Hygiene Lab (which is located just next to my building and which I suspect is decidedly unhygienic) wearing Packer wear and having their picture taken. Some were in sweatshirts, some in jerseys, and one guy was in a Packers tie! You know when you want to try to have everyone dress in matching and you pick something like jeans and a white shirt, or some other generic garment that everyone has? well, here in Wisconsin you pick Packer wear. I dropped of Baby Lizard this morning and the only other girl in her class was wearing a Packer jersey for a player I had never heard of. heh. If we get Baby Lizard a jersey it will almost certainly be Favre. that guys is the Lazarus of football and deserves to be immortalized on the tiny back of my child. We were discussing not being able to watch the game last night and my husband suggesting bringin the kid to a bar with us to watch. the sad part is, I bet not one person would give us a funny look if we did. go Pack go.

locker rooms
so, you know I am obsessed with locker rooms. my lesson from the locker room today is: there is no reason to wear saggy underwear. seriously, ladies, they make them in all sizes, including yours. there is nothing sadder than saggy deflated underwear, so if you are wearing some, get your butt over to the department store and invest in some new drawers. have some self respect.

On Wisconsin

2007-11-28T11:18:00.000-08:00

My two alma maters faced off last night in the ACC-Big Ten challenge. Since I love college basketball, having my two teams play each other was very exciting. In the end I was kind of cheering for Duke, though it was sort of an involuntary reaction to watching a game in Cameron. I kept forgetting that those were my Wisconsin Badgers. Unfortunately, the Badgers got killed, and I was hoping for a better game but oh well.

Anyway, during the first few minutes of the broadcast, they showed a somewhat heavyset, middle-aged woman with a cheesehead on. At first I thought, come on – can’t we find a somewhat more flattering representation of this fine state? But upon further consideration I thought “Yeah, it’s kind of like that.” As I have mentioned before, once I moved here I realized that Wisconsin is one of the go-to places when you need a random reference in movies or tv. It is the flyover zone between the two coasts. It is not next on the list of terrorist targets. But it’s a nice little place where the people are relatively friendly and the weather is bad and the food is fattening and the beer and cheese are delicious. Just the other day I was leaving our parking ramp and I held the door for someone behind me. I had to wait a few seconds, no big deal. When he gets to the door he says “Thank you! I apologize for dawdling so! I am not quite with it yet, it is Monday after all.” And I thought – who talks like that? Dawdling so? Seriously. But people in Wisconsin do. All the time.

On the radio this morning they were talking about the tally from deer gun hunting season. The gun season here is only nine days long, which always seems short to me, and means there is a LOT of shooting in those nine days. Seriously, you cannot engage in outdoor recreation anywhere with a tree during those nine days. We mistakenly went out to a state park with our dog during the season last year and now he owns a blaze orange vest. Haha. So, how many deer were killed in nine days? 343,644. I am not kidding. Three hundred and forty-three THOUSAND deer killed in nine days. That’s more than 38,000 deer per day. (I was a math major.) That is insane. This is reported on the news, along with the number of hunters killed. On the radio one DJ was saying that at another station she used to work at they had a pool about how many hunters would be killed and “heart attacks didn’t count”. Haha.
Also newsworthy in Wisconsin this morning: the fact that you will not be able to see the Packers game in Madison if you don’t have NFL network. People are outraged. We already can’t see anything but national coverage of UW football and basketball, and now no Packers. People here are serious about the Packers. They paint their houses green and gold. They dress the entire family in packer gear and take pictures. We LOVE the packers. So people are not happy. Not happy at all.

One final note, at my ten year college reunion I had to tell lots of people that I live in Wisconsin. Since I went to college on the east coast, with lots of other people from the coasts, this is unusual. Most people said “Really? Why Wisconsin?” But several people said to me “Man, everyone lives in Wisconsin!” which I thought was strange because I don’t know anyone else from college here. But it turns out that one of the nicest, prettiest girls in my whole class lives here. You know the girl - everyone knows her. I bet you could ask almost anyone in my graduating class about this girl and they would say “Oh, she’s so nice.” I would say that and I have never even met her. Seriously. So she was there, and everyone was talking to her and hearing that she lived in Wisconsin which became ‘everyone’ living in Wisconsin. Haha. Unfortunately, since I am not the person that everyone knows she does not know me so we aren’t friends, which is too bad because it’s hard to find anyone who cares about Duke around here. Oh well.

If you meet someone and they are from Wisconsin, I would suggest not asking them about cheese or cows. It gets old. It’s not quite as irritating as living in Boston and having people say “do you pahk the cah in hahvahd yahd?” but it’s close.

Round and round
Last night was a rough night with Baby Lizard and no one got enough sleep. She woke up late this morning, meaning I had to try to throw her in some clothes and get out the door. But trying to rush a 15 month old is about as easy as herding cats, and several temper tantrums, a smashed banana and much whining later we were out the door, more than 20 minutes behind schedule. I currently have a CD of kids’ music in the car that, while kind of annoying, makes the little Liz very happy. During the break between songs she immediately says “more?” which of course there always is. But as I was singing how much “I like to oat opples and bononos” just minutes before I was due at the office, I was thinking: today I don’t know if I can do this. Being a working mom is hard. It is hard to switch gears. I have don’t have much trouble completely devoting myself to my child when at home, but I do have trouble completely devoting myself to work when I am away from her. It is hard to be singing kid songs, then come in, set your bags down and make phone calls to update someone on a new impact evaluation project in Kenya and balance a budget. But I think some days I do really well at being a mom, some days I do really well at being a worker, some days I am great at both, and other days I fail miserably at both. Today, unfortunately, falls in category four but the good news is there is always tomorrow to wake up and try again, hopefully on more than 5.5 hours of sleep. Until then, the wheels on the bus still go round and round, all over town.

2007-11-26T17:56:00.000-08:00

allegedly my in-laws spent 18 hours cleaning their house before we got there. if this is true, and we will assume that it is, I am completely terrified of what that place looked like 18.5 hours before. the house that we entered was not what I would have described as clean. but after spending three days there, what is even more hive-inducing is the complete and total lack of organization. there are some lessons here: there is a reason why people do not put coffee filters and spoons in the same place. shelves are your friends. refrigerators are for food. it is better if the food is visible and not encased in seven old plastic grocery bags. people have trash cans for a reason. you know, that kind of thing. and while my less than stellar housekeeping is well documented here, my house feels like an effing shrine to Mr. Clean after that place. That said, the visit was not half bad. I was a little afraid when I casually asked on Thanksgiving morning how long it took to cook a turkey and my stepmother-in-law first looked at me as if to say "hmm...that's a good question!" I had visions of us sinking our teeth into some raw turkey at 8 o'clock that night, but no, salmonella-free Thanksgiving was served at 5 pm sharp. And the food was good! Yay for that, since bad food on a holiday that is all about food is really a drag.

On Friday evening we had a little birthday celebration for me and my sister-in-law, as our birthdays are recent and a week apart. My grandmother-in-law (GIL) was put in charge of the cake. Making the frosting for the cake was the big event of her day, and we spent quite a bit of time discussing it. She also kept saying that she wanted 'the girls' (that's me and my SIL) to decorate it. My GIL is 85 which means she lived through the depression which means that she is violently allergic to wasting anything, throwing anything away, and spending more than $20 on anything for any reason. She thinks Wal-Mart is fabulous because it is very cheap and she is from Arkansas, as is Wal-Mart. She loves to tell you about the cheap phone cards she gets at Sam's and the pie she found on clearance for $1.48 (mmmm....). She made a behemoth of a cake. It involved three BOXES of cake mix, which are made into sheet cake and piled on top of one another. This thing was massive. Finally it was frosted and ready for decorating, and she brought out no fewer than five tubes of Cake-Mate frosting, mostly unopened. My SIL started cutting them open, and while that stuff is pretty nasty when fresh, you could tell that this was not new frosting. It had taken on many of the characteristics of cement, and did not appear to be even remotely related to a food product. So my SIL discovers that this frosting may be SIX YEARS past the expiration and wisely decides that perhaps we should not put it on the cake. My GIL is somewhat devastated by this news, and inspects it. You can tell she thinks we are being foolish and wasteful. My SIL offers to throw away the toxic cement but GIL says she'll take it home because "they have too much trash already". But I know the truth: she is going to take it home and she is going to use it. Because she paid good money for that frosting, and there's no need to throw it away. Never mind that she bought it on clearance while Clinton was in office, that is perfectly good frosting and she will just whip up a cake for her friends and that will be that. Having lived to the age of 85 we can only hope that is not what kills her.

GIL also bought a present for Baby Lizard. It is a doll that makes really scary noises. GIL thinks it is fantastic that the doll makes a sucking sound when you put something in its mouth. I find this totally disturbing, even more so since that rotates with crying, laughing, and this scary little mutant saying 'mama'. eek. So, we showed it to Baby Lizard who isn't really very interested in dolls. She immediately put the fake bottle in her own mouth, but fortunately she did not seem very interested in figuring out how to make the doll make noise. So, yay for that. It is worth noting that on her last visit GIL bought Baby Lizard a weird little stuffed red wing blackbird that 'sings' when you squeeze it. Apparently weird electronic noises really strike her fancy! Fabulous.

I was back at work today and everyone wanted to ask about my Thanksgiving which really has to be one of the most boring holidays to discuss. So, like a good Midwesterner I spent a solid portion of my work day talking about driving through snow on the way to Iowa. And I got to hear about strawberry "salad" which apparently involves jello, some cream cheese (?), frozen strawberries and something else. Trust me, nowhere on earth is the word 'salad' used more loosely than in Wisconsin. Nowhere.

In other Wisconsin news, a Milwaukee police officer was recently deported since they figured out that he had assumed his dead cousin's identity in order to pose as a citizen. Funny, I guess I always figured that background checks for police officers included investigating things like whether or not you are alive. I feel so safe now. While it seems like he's a good guy, I would have to say that entering public service on a fake identity has to, in retrospect, seem like a poor decision. good night.

a fork so clean

2007-11-21T10:41:00.000-08:00

you could eat off of it. or maybe not. there is a student lounge in my building which is nice because it has a microwave and a coke machine. the microwave is pretty gross, but at least your food doesn't have to touch that other cooked on stuff. there is a refrigerator but it is pretty much a toxic waste dump and I do not store food there. and then there is the sink. you know, kitchen sinks are gross. we clean them at home with a good amount of regularity, so we forget how nasty they are. but the one here does not get cleaned. it is equipped with a prehistoric sponge that must be so contaminated with germs that it might actually kill you if you sniffed it. there is also some dishwashing liquid, but people just keep filling the thing with water since it ran out in 2004 and no one has bothered to buy more, so now the water is basically just water with maybe 2 suds in it. today I was debating whether my spoon actually got dirtier just by being held under the running water (no sponge or dish liquid) in the vicinity of this travesty of a washing place. I decided that maybe I should just throw it away.

today I am going to see my in-laws for Thanksgiving. I will promise you that no fewer than 4 out of 6 dishes will have dog hair in them. yum. it will be interesting to see how the human swiffer does in such an environment.

happy thanksgiving.

ok. I care.

2007-11-20T10:11:00.000-08:00

I know I said I didn’t care what I looked like in my driver’s license photo, but you know what? I lied. Because it is a truly, truly terrible picture and I hate it. I spent the entire drive home trying to figure out a way to ‘lose’ my license so I could get a new one without a lot of hassle. I appear to be approximately 300lbs and am smiling like Fire Marshall Bill. However, in my defense it was not poor shirt selection or lazy showering that got me into this mess. I blame the photo taker. I think they purposely found the most distracting person in Madison and got him to take the pictures just so everyone looked even more terrible. Now, I am all for equal opportunity hiring, and I think it is quite clever the way a person with no hands (no kidding) can operate the camera. He has a hook on one hand, and nothing on the other, though he uses a partial thumb to type. He has one of the craziest mullets you have ever seen, with short puffy jet black hair on top and then brushed out curly hair that hangs most of the way down his back. PEOPLE. How am I supposed to look natural while staring at this guy who calls everyone “Miss First Name” (“Miss Marcia? Here we go Miss Marcia. Now I want you to look right at that flashing yellow light. Thank you Miss Marcia. That will be ready in two minutes!” ) has somewhat crossed eyes and warring teeth and apparently cannot bend his knees? Truthfully, by the time it was my turn and I had watched five other people go through this I was so driven to distraction about how I was going to retrieve my license, which he serves to you on his non-hook hand like a waiter holds a tray, without accidentally grabbing him, that there was no way in hell I was going to look good in that picture. And yes, I am totally going to hell. But I am taking that driver’s license photo with me so it can burn.

Call me whatever you want

There is a lovely woman in our neighborhood who is really friendly and has a really friendly dog and I see her all the time and I have no idea what her name is. I mean, we don’t really know each other but we sort of act like we do, which I guess is weird, but kind of neighborly. Anyway, the other day she was out in her yard and my dog stopped to sniff her dog and her husband came over. She said “Have you met my husband Ishmael?” to which the answer is: no, I have not because if I had ever met anyone named Ishmael I would certainly remember. Haha. The funny part is that she calls him Ish. Though, if you think about it, running around calling anyone Ishmael all day is probably more than a person could take.

Tradeoffs

One of the extremely unfortunate characteristics of my office is that it is right next to the men’s bathroom, which means both a lot of of coming and going and overhearing things that I am not particularly interested in overhearing. Anyway, yesterday two guys were having a conversation in there while using the restroom, and I thought to myself: while I DO sort of envy the ability to pee standing up, I do not envy the possibility of having to talk to my co-workers while doing so.

Lose the lbs in just 30 days!

I saw a little online ad the other day telling me that they had discovered Oprah’s diet secret. However, my scrupulous weekly reading of gossip magazines tells me that her secret is a thyroid condition. So, I am not exactly sure how they are ‘selling’ that. However, I am sure it will have you looking terrific in your new neon bikini in a matter of days.

picture day

2007-11-16T07:56:00.000-08:00

I need to renew my driver's license today, since it expires in one week. So this morning I was thinking that maybe I should give at least a little, tiny bit of thought to what I was wearing since I will have to look at it all the time for the next eight years. But then I realized that I actually have NO IDEA what I am wearing in my current driver's license photo, which I have had for at least three years. And then I thought that I should probably try to get my hair to look good, and then I realized that I really don't care. When did this happen? I mean, I think I used to care. Part of it is that now that I am old enough that I rarely get carded (waaah), I don't show my driver's license that much. I mostly focus on it when I am at the airport, but at that point I am much more focused on how I am going to most efficiently take off my shoes, pull out my computer, fold my stroller, show my shampoo and all that other b.s. at security that I don't really care about my license. Though, the nice old security guy at my local airport LOVES to comment. He looks at mine and says "you grew your hair out!" which I did. Maybe this is how he passes the time? Anyway, I have realized that I care more about being warm than I do about looking dorky in a snow hat, and I care more about not being late than I do looking like a spaz running across the street just ahead of the light. And maybe this is just because I am getting old and maybe it is because when you work and have a kid you don't really have that much time to worry about lots of things like that. You are happy if you make it to work in mostly clean clothes that fundamentally match (usually I do even better than that!) at a reasonable time with no major snafus. And sometimes I worry that all these years in an academic department in the Midwest are taking their toll on my sense of style and self pride in how I look, but then I also think: until I go somewhere else there's really no point in worrying. No one here is going to notice anyway, so I might as well keep it easy and basic and focus on, you know, showing up.

Tuesday was Baby Lizard's first ever "school" (daycare) picture. This is funny to me, since she is only 15 months old, but whatever. She woke up very late, and therefore did not get a bath before pictures as I had intended. Oops. And as I was taking off her jacket I realized she had yogurt in her hair. nice. So now, her first picture, which we will dutifully display proudly and save forever, will show her that not only had her mother let herself go, but she was the kind of mother that let her child go to her very.first.picture.day.EVER with yogurt in her hair. And while I feel bad about it, I also think well, you might as well know that you were not the child who was always in perfect matching outfits with not a speck of anything on your face and pleasant smile. Sadly, that is not you. There is only one other girl in her class. On picture day she was wearing an adorable little purple corduroy dress with a matching shirt and patent leather shoes. Baby Lizard was wearing a brown t-shirt and some blue jeans, and while I think she looked adorable, she looked quite regular. oops. I guess I forgot about the dressing up part. And I feel bad because really she is too young to already not be caring how she looks, but since she can't really care on her own behalf that is one of my primary responsibilities as her mother. to make her looked well loved, well cared for, clean, etc. I mean, she still dresses better than I do on a daily basis, but I feel like I am dropping the ball. oh well, the good news is that apparently she handled the photo shoot like a professional, and I can only hope that the photo will capture her inner fabulousness and you won't even notice the rest of it. if you are very good perhaps I will post the pic, yogurt and all.

2007-11-13T12:37:00.000-08:00

I was traveling this weekend which is usually the source of quite a bit of fodder for me, but I must admit that traveling alone with a 15 month old really impinges on one's ability to people watch in an airport. however, since I am an excellent multi-tasker (just ask my resume!) I did catch a couple of things. while playing in the kids' area in Cincinnati, exposing my child to as many transcontinental germs as possible, I got to enjoy two people have a conversation for my benefit. You know the type, they are talking a little too loud for it to be just for their own benefit, and they are trying to make something that is probably kind of boring sound interesting. This woman was telling her husband that "they just need to pay us the $10,000 that they owe us" which would have been interesting had it been followed by "for killing his wife" but was less compelling since it was actually followed by "it's making the whole division look bad". But I could tell she was hoping I was paying attention. Her slightly unruly 3 year old was busy getting the face of (and scaring) my midget, and her mother was too busy trying to impress to notice that she was spilling doritos everywhere and generally being a menace. A cute menace, but still. Actually the little girl said something that piqued my interest much more than her mother's (clearly very important) business dealings. Her mother told her to ask me where we were going, and when I asked where SHE was going she said "To where my mom lives." Really? Interesting. I mean, it was clear that this child was not the genetic production of the two people on the sideline, but I had sort of assumed they were her parents. The woman even said that the girl was the same age as my little one the first time she was in that play area, indicating a long history. I would have loved to get the whole back story there, since it would have been more interesting than plopping the baby lizard at the top of the 8 inch slide for the one billionth time, but somehow I didn't think it was appropriate. On a side note, when the woman stood up to leave I could not help but notice she was wearing one of the most unfortunate pairs of pants in the history of the universe. Hopefully those people will give her her $10K and she can use it to buy a decent pair of pants.

Anyway, I had a lovely weekend in my hometown, including a visit with an old friend who I have not seen in nearly 15 years. I dealt with the awkwardness of this as I do with many such situations: by drinking. Really, there are some things that just require alcohol consumption, and this was one of them. I survived, but have since been wallowing in a weird sort of anti-nostalgia time warp which I am hoping to snap out of soon. It actually started before this weekend and I seem to keep adding fuel to the fire, which must end before I am dressing in oversized clothing, watching 90210, and sulking around like it's 1993.

We had a bit of a snafu on our return trip which involved three hours in the airport before taking off on our first flight, which caused us to miss our second flight. Just what you need when traveling alone with a young child. After nearly two hours of letting her stuff her piehole with the myriad of bite sized carbohydrates I had in my bag, climb on chairs, push the stroller, etc we were getting low on tricks just in time to get on the plane. So then you have to hold and entertain a cranky child in the space allocated to you, which is approximately the size of a Japanese tanning bed only vertical. good times. At that point I was thinking "I would kill someone for a diet coke" but alas when they ask you if you would like anything to drink you say no, thanks, since said diet coke would be a sparkly temptation which you could not offer your child which would then become grounds for screaming as if your toes were on fire until you were finally handed the can which would, inevitably, end up all over everything in a five foot radius. sigh. despite my wishful incantations of "time for night night?" it was clearly not time for anything as boring as night night, so the baby lizard kept sticking her head in the aisle and waving to the stewardess, who would not crack a smile. I'll be honest: I have a cute kid. This is not bias, it is scientific fact. And if a really cute kid who is not yelling and doing other unseemly things on your airplane is playing peekaboo with you and waving and you cannot bring yourself to smile at her, you really REALLY should not be in a customer oriented job.

And so, we continued our journey doing the best we could. I completely lost my dignity somewhere between the time that I ate the prelicked goldfish cracker that was stuffed into my mouth and saying "look! do you see the airplane?" in my super breathy mom voice that is specifically designed to induce excitement about thing that are not exciting. At that point, success was measured in number of seconds that BL was not crying. And so, as I stuffed myself in to the Little Tikes playhouse at Gate A23 at 10pm last night, playing round one million of peekaboo through the shutters, I really didn't care what anyone thought. Which is probably good, since I am not a small person and those playhouses are designed for small people. And so ended another chapter in the book Things that Are Not the Same with Kids. Chapter 15: Airport Delays.

I don't like you either.

Today I am back at work, and ran out for some lunch. There's a new place across the street and the food is quite tasty, though it is really slow. This means that if you order takeout you spend a lot of time loitering looking at a TV which is on mute and does not have closed captioning, and (if you are me) covertly eavesdropping. This restaurant was recently opened by some people that sort of seem too young to be doing something like running a restaurant, but whatever. It's a couple, and the girl is always the one to take your order and your money. For some reason, she is not very friendly to me which is kind of foolish because I go there often, and they need my money. But today I figured it out: she doesn't like girls. We all know those kind of girls. The ones who only like to deal with boys. This was cemented for me when she was being friendly and joking around (see below) with the guys in front of me, but then I come up and she is giving me tight lipped one word answers and keeping our exchanges as short as possible. As I am waiting, a guy comes up to get a refill on his coffee, which she does not charge him for, and the exchange goes like this:

shopgirl: how were the tacos?
customer: pretty good (sounding unenthusiastic)
shopgirl: good? good!
customer: the chips were good
shopgirl: well that's what we like to hear! thanks so much for your honest opinion!
customer: *thinking cute shopgirl must be flirting with him* well, it IS taco Tuesday!
shopgirl: it certainly is! have a great day. *gives death stare to wiscolizard*

I am not kidding you. Come on. The guy says he likes the chips? They're from a bag! You didn't cook them. And you thank him for his honest opinion and give him free coffee? Yet for me you have nothing but to dump my change into my hand without a word? Bitch. I wish there were more good places to go for lunch so I could cross you off my list.

Maybe I was still bitter from the first exchange I witnessed:

Guy #1: I'll have the tacos
shopgirl: hard or soft?
Guy #1: hard
shopgirl: *faking a laugh* gawd, that sounds really bad doesn't it?
Guy #2: sounds good to me

Whatever, Beavis.

you're my idol.

2007-11-08T10:50:00.001-08:00

holy hannah I just realized that I went to college with the Canadian Ryan Seacrest:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Mulroney

he lived in the freshman dorm next to mine. haha! the world is a funny place. other illustrious members of my graduating class include the longsnapper for the Chicago Bears, and a Temptation Island vixen. I love it.

what do you mean 'we'?

2007-11-08T07:19:00.000-08:00

I was walking in to daycare this morning and ran in to the mother of a little guy who is about 7 months younger than baby lizard, but was in her same classroom for a couple months before she moved up with the big kids. I have no affinity for this particular child, since when I saw him on a daily basis he was this squalling little blob of a thing who was always really shiny because he was covered in some weird ointment due to some skin affliction. ew. and I think the mom is really annoying. However, I am polite, and I said "wow! he's getting so big!" Though I was thinking "and less shiny, though he still looks kind of red and crusty." She says "He is! We're walking now. Are you guys walking?" And simultaneously all of my irritation bells rang out. 1) I hate when people refer to me and my child as a unit, particularly when asking a question like "are you walking?" Clearly *I* am walking. I mean, you can say "are you guys going to the zoo this weekend?" but not "are you guys eating solid food?" 2) I maybe have been a bit extra sensitive because my child does not walk. This is a bit unusual, since most children do walk by her age. But I am getting tired of people asking and even more tired of people looking at me with a very judgemental and totally fake smile and saying something meaningless like 'she'll get there!' And truthfully, it is not really good parenting that determines when your child does things like walk, so really just go ahead and get off your high horse.

So of course this lady tells me that her kid is only 8 months old (which, for those of you without kids is a ridiculously early age to walk and is really nothing to be excited about) and implying, with that same stupid smile, that clearly her child is superior to mine and maybe I should just go ahead and put the baby lizard in a group home and save everyone a lot of heartache. But what I wanted to say is "she may not walk, but she is so much cuter than your kid it should be illegal." And let's be honest, down the road those big eyes are going to get my little lizard a lot farther than being able to tell people she could walk at 8 months.

you missed a spot

2007-11-07T18:28:00.000-08:00

After I went back to work after having a kid, I finally got my husband to agree to let me hire a housekeeper. I have never been much of a housekeeper myself. I keep my house picked up and neat, but when it comes to things like scrubbing toilets and washing floors, I leave something (everything?) to be desired. so now that I had both limited time and a constant human swiffer (my crawling daughter) I decided the moment was right to bring in professionals. I mean, it was one thing to have somewhat less than sparkling floors when the only creature that ate off of them was my dog, and let's be honest, dogs have very low standards about these things. But one thing (out of many, if I am being honest) that dogs and babies have in common is their desire to explore with their mouths. Fortunately this is something that humans grow out out. I mean, if you find something suspicious, isn't putting it in your mouth the LAST thing you will do with it? You will smell it, inspect it closely, perhaps show it to someone else, but you will really only ever put it in your mouth if you are basically positive that it is a food product, and even then you'd kind of rather not. But not babies. They put everything in their mouths, which becomes like a continual white glove test with the added adventure that you could be killing your offspring.

So, I had some people come out and give quotes, and at some point a sort of unremarkable woman came to the house and for reasons that are still a bit unclear, I hired her. Before she came to my house the first time, I cleaned it. I mean, I didn't wash stuff, but we put everything away and made sure the place was looking good. She came in, we paid her a bunch of money, and to be honest, it looked like an only slightly cleaner version of how we left it. We chalked this up to all the prep work, which we dialed back for subsequent visits. But we have now come to the conclusion that this lady is really a terrible housekeeper. She doesn't make beds, or clean under them. She doesn't really dust much. The cobwebs are left intact. She doesn't wash the shower floor. I mean, these sort of seem like basics, no? I'm not asking her to scrub anything with a toothbrush, but cleaning the dog hair off of all of the stairs (last time she got four out of seven) really doesn't seem like too much to ask, especially not for $65 every two weeks. Just three days ago I found a spot on the bathroom floor which certainly can be attributed to my dropping an entire bottle of infant's motrin in a moment of motherhood induced hysteria which included a screaming child paired with a call from my mother in law. This happened BEFORE she came the last time, which means she did not even wash the entire bathroom floor, which is saying something since my bathroom has about three square feet of floor space. Really, I am not all that demanding. But this is ridiculous, and so I must fire her. But this presents a large problem for me because I hate confrontation. A lot. I loathe this about myself, but alas have found no cure. So, like any good modern coward, I will do it via email. (More self loathing ensues.) In fact, I think I will even lie and tell her we're just not going to have a housecleaner anymore. I know. It's awful. I hate myself, but seriously, this woman is no better a housekeeper than I am, and lord knows no sane person would pay me to clean their house. In fairness to me, when she had someone call me for a reference, I was brutally honest. I said, if you really want your house clean, this is not the person for you. She is nice, and she is reliable, and she will not steal your shit, but she should not be in a job that kind of calls for attention to detail and, well, cleanliness. Because she is not all that great at either one.

no, you don't

yesterday I was eavesdropping on a conversation between my boss and his wife. This is very easy because there are some weird acoustics on my hall which result in everyone being able to hear everything which is fine except for somehow I continuously forget that this also applies to me. whoops. Anyway, he has this very funny way of greeting her on the phone. Instead of the usual "hey, it's me" between married folk he says "Hi Mary, Tom." (those aren't their names, but whatever.) I mean, he identifies himself by name, after addressing her by name. I find this very odd. Anyway, it is clear that they are discussing some medical news about someone who appears to be related to them, but I don't think it's her (hard to say). He's acting kind of distracted, but says relevant things like "oh, so it's just a cyst?" And after a fairly short conversation he says "well, I have to run. I have people waiting for me." pause. "No. I DO care." Said in the voice of someone who absolutely postively could not care less. haha. And there is nothing worse than someone telling you they care when clearly they do not, especially when that person is your husband. So, on my way out of my office I called my own husband and made him promise that we would never deteriorate to the point where we had to 1) accuse the other of not caring and 2) lie about actually doing so.