thinking...

...about the celebratory mood of last year. Adventing the entire month. Where and how and why did I go to there?

And I kind of miss it. But the only adventing this year is for the GRE. And I get a little giddy every time I think about it. I can't wait. Only because I want it over.

December 19

10 more days to stuff this obtuse brain of mine. (Ha! Take that verbal section. I'm throwing the vocab like a bucolic ascetic oscillating enigmatic dogma.)

And while I've been concerned about the math - last night's practice test proved that I have a few other problems.

I missed 5 out of the 10 verbal section questions. In particular - Antonyms - questions that require you to choose the opposite of a word given to you.

And I trick myself into answering incorrectly almost as often as I trick myself into the correction.

For example - let's take this little practice question (listed under easy, by the way). Okay what is the opposite of:

FRUSTRATE:

a. facilitate
b. moderate
c. climb
d. judge
e. assemble

The practice book warns to watch out for questions that are using a secondary definition of the stem word. (Frustrate is the stem here.) I was keeping that in mind when I answered this question. This. very. easy. question. Because I know what every word here means - I should have gotten it right.

I failed.

Now you try. And show me how obtuse my brain really is.

random release...

Shoveling the drive twice within 17 hours is nice inspiration. For a variety of blog posts. Only the second that one pops in my head, it leaves. For warmer weather I suppose.

Like I wanted to post about how I can't stand doing my hair right now. And I was about to write it out in my mind. But it went away. And that ended that.

Or about how Millie called our car a genious. Which it totally is. But I can't recall the circumstance, or story surrounding it.

And then this morning, before shoveling episode #2, my period started. And clarity came.

I thought - oh, I should write about this. But then realized that I always write about the beginning of my period. Why must I force my blog to be my calendar?

And that might be gross. For you. If you're reading. But it's not gross for me. (Remember: blood not gross. Stickers and long nails? Vomit inducing.) I like to talk about it. It's a huge part of who I am. Or I guess in how I act. And perhaps it is my one token form of rebellion. (Or is that the dc?)

Rebellious? How can it be rebellious? Well, when you grow up not swearing, or drinking, or sneaking out, or toilet papering, or skipping class, or whatever your token form of rebellion may be...

But sometimes you just need to shock. For shocks sake. Right? My rebellion of choice has always been complete honesty regarding my cycle. (Okay, and screaming at the parentals -- but that's another story. For a therapist.)

My brothers could share some choice experiences. Kyle in particular. But I see it more as one of my life purposes. I completely prepared them for the realities of womanhood. In fact, they probably have it much nicer now that they are warm and cozy in marriage. Because I know that the sis-in-laws are not leaving surprises in the sink.

And I'm sure the brothers are so thankful for their awesome wives. And I feel like I had a hand in that.

sharing.

Blogging? Ha! Who has time for blogging, when there is eating to be done.

I know - I'm a bit fixated right now. And part of this is cut off due to my blogger template. But I don't have time to change the template right now....I have to go make dinner.

Recipes you need:

Chocolate S'More Pie - Worth it. Really.

Gourmet Sweet Potato Classic - Like Candy. Not a marshmallow in sight.

Recipe that I need to try:

Pear Butterscotch Pie

here.

I didn't want to get out of bed this morning. And had it not been for a planned visit from cousin Becky, I would still be there.

Clin would categorize this as PMS. But who knows? I mean I've given up on calendaring these things. And maybe I'm just in a state. Or tired. That would definitely be a label I could wear.

But who isn't?

Maybe it's the four point five day food free-for-all that began Thursday and has not yet declared an end. I can't stop. Right now I'm downing a glass of the DC and graham crackers with a bunch 'o' frosting in the middle. And I'm not satisfied. Seriously, the frosting/graham combination used to be so much better than it is in this moment.

But I did put on a new, old pair of jeans this morning. Size 8. I only own 1 pair of eights. I've only ever owned 1 pair.

Perhaps the one exception could be Brian Rothery's hand me downs that ended up in my college dresser during my boy jean phase. But they were labeled based on that male system that makes no sense. So those can't count.

My eights are considered new because they were only ever worn for a couple of months preceding the pregnancy of 2004. They have lived in the closet since.

So this should be some cause for celebration. For not crawling back into bed.

But I just don't feel it.

*I would like to take this moment to give a shout out to the high I got yesterday from the Ginger Snap bubble bath scent wafting from Ellis's hair. That was nice.

les mizing part 2.

Goodbye high school musical 2009. And what fun. I get to bask in Clin's glory and credit without having to do a thing.

Except show up for the final product. Smile a lot. And sale tickets. And last night ticket sales were the thing.

People lining up at 5:30 pm for a 7:00 pm show?

Yeah.

And a line for tickets before the ticket tables were even in place.

We sold all 1315 seats last night. 4 cases of water. 2 dozen roses. and lots and lots of cookies.

The cast was hyper.

I missed my favorite line: Le Marque is dead.

But I did see the end. And the audience roared in gratitude.

And I say it's great to get to watch the students improve without having any real responsibility for it.

Which means that I just get to sit back and enjoy.

les miserables.

Millie and Ellis sat through Clin's High School production this morning.

A middle school matinee. The entire auditorium full. And we were surrounded by adolescents. I expected faculty tossing students out, taking away cell phones, sshhhhh-ing, and all of the above.

But alas. It was not to be. My girls were louder than any students. It was as if the middle schoolers were hypnotized (which says a lot to the production quality - nice work there Clin-0). And I was the only one taking people out.

It wasn't that they were crying, or screaming. But loudly asking questions:

Mom, what is happening?

They're prisoners.

Why is there smoke?

It's fog.

Where's the bad man?

Not on right now. He will be back soon.

Why is she dying?

She is sick.

Mom, it's just pretend dying.

Yes. Just pretend.

Why did that cart fall on that man?

It was an accident.

But why did it fall on him?

I don't know. So the large man could pick it up off of him.

What is happening?

Um....those women are trying to get money from the men.....

Millie: I want to sit on your lap.

Ellis: (pushing) No, get off.

Millie: Everytime I sit my underwear goes up my bum.

That last part was screamed.

And by the end of act 1 all candy/snacks had been devoured and the girls were crying hunger. But again - it was boredom.

Although Millie did sit entranced for most of the 2.5 hours. Particularly fond of Fantine, Javert, Master of the House, and One Day More.

Ellis just liked it when everyone was asleep. On stage.

You're invited to come and like that too.

Photo from Here

waking up.

I woke up this morning to a tantrum. Mine.

Entering the kitchen to make the oatmeal, I spotted the pots from dinner last night.

And the food was still in them. Which led to the spontaneous combustion of tears and a few choice words. I'm sure that my daughters will happily recite them for you.

You see, last night I made curry chicken. Really good, new recipe, curry chicken. And it made a lot.

And someone forgot to put it in the refrigerator. I won't name names. No, I won't go that low. But in your family, is it always the responsibility of the cook to do such things?

Well the cook left the food out for the overworked soul who returned home late. And that soul ate. AND had the time and effort to bake cookies. And eat those cookies. Around the pots full of food.

While I worked downstairs.

Normally this would not have caused such a reaction. But I'm on a tight budget. And expecting company. And the leftovers were penciled in for Thursday night dinner.

I boxed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Because I cannot bring myself to give them up.

So sorry Mom and Dad. Food poisoning awaits.


photo via BabyDinosaur