Because SOME day someone, somewhere will thank me for this...maybe

One day last week, Man-Child came home from school all kinds of irritated.  Apparently, his Botany/Zoology teacher had assigned a project.  One that was due yesterday.

This had put MC in a snit because, in his mind, WHAT kind of teacher assigns a project at the very end of the school year?  AND because of the scope of the project.

Apparently, they are in the Zoology portion of the class and were studying insects (fun, I know!) so the teacher put names of various insects on slips of paper and had the kids draw the slips.

MC drew "fly."

The assignment?  To create an edible replica of a fly.

And it couldn't be sweets (i.e., I couldn't make a cake and, somehow, decorate it to look like a fly).

Personally?  Personally, I think this particular teacher just likes to eat the fruits of his students (or their parents) labor.  Because this is, at least, the second or third edible project that he's assigned this year.

Also?  Let me tell you, if you Google the terms "how to make an edible replica of a fly"  (or any variation thereof) you will NOT get any decent results.  In fact, the top two results seem to have something to do with the world's largest replica of an ancient Mayan temple made out of chocolate.

Emmmm, now I want some chocolate.....even if it did resemble a fly!

Well, since my mad, somewhat questionable, cake decorating skills were out and my awesome ability to Google anything was a bust I did what any self-respecting mother would do.  I threw up my hands in defeat and left it to MC and Hubby to figure out.

Which, really? Is only fair.  Since for the past twelve plus years I have been the driving force behind most of the projects that have graced our home.

That's right folks.  I walked away.

Apparently, so did MC.  Because THIS beauty was pretty much the sole creation of Hubby.

Please ignore the ladder and junk in the background.  This was taken in the garage by people who
are even MORE inexperienced with a camera than I am.

I have to admit, it was sheer genius on Hubby's part.  Even if I did burst into laughter upon opening the fridge to find this lurking in there.

So, here's what he did.

He made his "almost-famous" beer butt chicken (no, I do NOT know how he does it, so please don't ask for the recipe.  All I know, is that he has some special holder that the open can of beer goes into and then he impales the chicken on top of it and it comes out of the oven tasting like manna from heaven.  Seriously.) using extra spices to try and make the chicken as dark as possible.

He then took a styrofoam ball and wrapped it in tinfoil and somehow attached it to the chicken.  Using toothpicks to anchor them, he used black olives for eyes.

For the wings, he cut some white plastic mesh that he found at Michael's into the desired shape (which you can't quite see in the picture) and attached them to the chicken wings.

And viola!

There you have an edible replica of a fly.

Is it just me, or does this alien-fly look like he's saying, "C'mon, punk!  Make my day!" while grinning maniacally?

(You're welcome to whomever may need an edible replica of a fly!)

Which was apparently VERY tasty, as nothing made its way back home.....not even the carcass.  I'm told that the teacher is generous enough to share with the class, at least.

Here's hoping Hubby gets an "A" on this.....if not for presentation than for pure yummy-ness.

The Merry, Merry Month of May (.....or as I like to call it The Month of Mayhem)

Look at him....

How DARE he look so happy and elated about the prospect of finishing high school and actually leaving his mother home!*


After all I we have done for him he should be in TEARS at the thought of leaving me us.  He has not an ounce of empathy I tell you; not ONE ounce.

As THE day draws ever closer I find myself in a fog.  So much to do; so little time.

Early, early, early this morning found me frantically assembling and addressing envelopes for the announcements that should have been sent LAST week.  Finally, after dealing with that little intrusion called a J. O. B, I finished assembling, stuffing and addressing the announcements this evening.  I have charged Hubby with the mission of getting them into the United States Postal system first thing tomorrow morning.  And by "first thing" I mean as soon as they open the doors!

Still no "real" ideas for the graduation party....it doesn't help that eight hours or more of my day is dedicated to that J. O. B.  The graduation party, which will have no other graduates attending, by the way.  My son has decreed that this shall be a party at which only family and family friends will attend.  Which means none of his friends will be here - which, although our friends will love the chance to celebrate, makes me wonder what is the point?!

Seeing as I'm in such a panic, I've decided to take next week off for preparation.  Well this, of course, brings on the panic of getting everything related to the J. O. B. done THIS week to ensure that NEXT week is smooth sailing for the bosses.  Which also ensures that the FOLLOWING week will also include mayhem from anything that spills over....and it always does.

So for the remainder of tonight?  I have decided that I need some wine and to hit the bed EXTRA early because methinks tomorrow (and the remainder of the week) is gonna be a bear.


* And, for the love of Mike, can someone PLEASE explain where these extra paragraph breaks are coming from?!  But, on the plus side, I FINALLY got my blog bling to work, I think....

Apparently, I'm easily amused.

I am not a photographer.  I've admitted this MANY times.

And since I'm not a photographer, I don't do much editing with my photos (I know, I should be ashamed; but I'm not).

But yesterday, I was working on Man-Child's graduation party invites (I know I said a few posts back that I was going to send them last weekend but.....well, it didn't happen.  No excuses.  It just didn't).  Since I had decided to send them via email (again, I KNOW.  But I really don't have the time or money to send printed ones) I needed to upload the photo to a web-site (don't ask me why; all I know is it took me forever to figure out that was the only way I'd be able to embed the picture into the body of the email) and since I already have a Google account I uploaded the picture to Picasa.

Little did I know that this would provide me lots of amusement.....and lots of lost productivity (sssh! Don't tell my boss).

So for your entertainment, in no particular order, without further ado here are some of the results.

How YOU doin......?

What his opponents saw when they met him on the field, I'm sure.

Howdy, padnah!

He could never go undercover - it's too hilarious to contemplate

Why yes, I AM half-Italian - how'd you know?

Man-Child's response upon seeing the results?  A smile, with the shake of the head and the comment, "APPARENTLY, you have too much time on your hands!"

Yes, apparently I do.  But mostly?  Mostly, I like putting mustaches on babies.....especially if he's mine!

I'm innocent, I tell you!  Innocent!

Funny, he's also forbidden me from adding these to Facebook.....I can't imagine why.

She's *almost* broken....almost; eventually she will be one of us.

As staffers, we are all veterans of the office trenches.  Between the three of us we probably have almost a century's worth of experience (I'll just let that sink in.....and then quickly add; with EMPHASIS, that I am the youngest of the three); with the majority of that experience being with this particular company.

When a new woman joined our ranks about a year ago - we were dubious of her - despite her excellent background and years of experience.

Butter wouldn't melt in this woman's mouth.  She is ALWAYS calm, collected and very, very, very slow.  Not mentally slow, mind, but in her mannerisms and speech.  Very. Precise. And. Deliberate.

And she doesn't seem to have picked up the habit (yet) of cursing at her computer.

A lovely woman but she has the tendency to drive us all a little mad.  Particularly for the no nonsense, "I don't have time for this" Yankee among us.

We've joked amongst ourselves that if the building were ever on fire she still wouldn't move any faster than that stately pace she has mastered, oh so well.

Our bosses (particularly the BIG bosses) are volatile and unpredictable with ever changing schedules - and some of hers are the worst.  There has been many a time when we schedule a load of meetings on a seemingly "clear" day only to discover that "they" have been talking behind our backs and making plans that never seem to make it onto their calendars or into our ears until after we've scheduled a full day of meetings for them.

This, of course, necessitates a flurry of re-scheduling across the board.  We, the veterans, are used to this by now - and though sometimes (often) irritating we "roll with the punches" as it were.

But this one?  She hasn't been here long enough to get understand the process.  She's not been with us long enough to have suffered as we have suffered.

Until today.

After today, I think she may be coming around.

After a grueling round of scheduling, only to re-schedule again I went to her to inform her that her boss had just declined a meeting invitation - one that he NEEDED to be in.  There she sat, with her eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes and her hair slightly mussed.  And I heard her squeak exhaustedly, "WHAT?!"

With a sympathetic smile I left her to deal with the mess.  And went directly to one of the veterans to inform her that the unflappable was slowly becoming unraveled; that she just might be turning into one of us.

To which my no nonsense Yankee friend replied "We will know that she has been completely broken when we walk up to her with the news of another re-scheduling and she replies with 'F*#k! Are you KIDDING me?''"

She's almost there....I can see the cracks.

Dear Universe: I have FAR too much on my plate as it is, thank you.

So you can stop with adding on the second helpings that I don't need.  Let me deal with the "firsts" first.  Then, I can take on all the other stuff that you are throwing at me.

Yes, Universe, I realize that you have your time lines, deadlines, and what-have-you's, but you need to realize that I am only one, little person.  I can only deal with so much at one time.  Haven't you learned yet that I don't have the patience and the fortitude to put out all these fires at once?

Yes, I realize that I AM a great multi-tasker.....but haven't you heard?  Studies have shown that when one multi-tasks, one isn't giving one's full attention to the particular task at hand.  And right now?  Well, now ALL of the tasks sitting in front of me need my FULL attention; rather than my partial attention.

So, Universe dear, I am begging you....back off for a little while.  Let me deal with these very important tasks and then I PROMISE I will give these other tasks that you are asking me to do with my full attention.  Deal?

Love,
Me.

Unfortunately, the Universe can be an out and out bitch witch and is cutting me no slack.  Between work, home and personal stuff I feel like I am drowning.

And, of course, May is looking to be even worse....what with end-of-the-school-year activities, graduation, graduation party; deciding who should and should NOT be invited, and just now realizing that those invites need to go out NOW; etc....not to mention the MAJOR work stuff going on right now.....at this rate, I figure I will be completely bonkers by the time Memorial Day Weekend/Graduation rolls around.

I've also been reminded, repeatedly (via different venues), to take in those little moments; to secure those memories into my brain and to quit just plodding through trying to make it through the day; of which I am completely and totally guilty of....and I know I need to to do that, but really?  Right now, I just don't have the time or the energy to do so....and, to be perfectly honest, some of these "moments" I really just don't want to ever remember again.

So while I am over here panicking if any of you crafty, creative, non-insane people have any ultra fabulous (i.e., cheap) ideas for a graduation party please let me know because I am quickly running out of time and have no energy or creativity leftover to even think about it.

Seriously?! Apparently the head honchos of the evil Spam Empire need to raise their standards in their hiring practices

I've recently become addicted discovered Pinterest; as have (if the studies are to be believed) most women across the globe.  From what I can tell, it is used for different reasons by different people.

There are those planning a wedding or those preparing for a new addition to their family.  There are those that are interested in cooking, decorating, reading, beauty, fashion, humor, whatever....

It's an awesome place to find inspiration, save pictures/sites that you love in one central place.  It's AWESOME.

Except, that I've noticed a darker side to it.  Of course there are trolls (those who love nothing more than to stir up controversy over whether or not this or that is beautiful, someone is too thin or too fat, ethical or whatever....EXACTLY like blogging trolls actually).

This is to be expected.  I mean really....if you give people a computer (and a screen name) to hide behind then it stands to reason that some of them are bound to show their true colors.

But that isn't my complaint.

No, I can ignore trolls with the best of them.....although sometimes it's hard to bite my tongue (I'll admit it - there have been a few times when I've been awfully tempted to fire off a "comment" to put someone in their place....) but logic always prevails - because what is the point in engaging these people?  W.A.S.T.E.  O.F.  T.I.M.E!

No, my complaint today is about the spammers; a specific type of spammer.  Lately, I have seen MANY of these "comments" on MANY different types of pins.....

And I have to say to myself, "REALLY?"

First of all - what IS the purpose of spamming a pin, especially in this fashion.....it's not like this particular brand of spam offers up suspicious links, dubious websites or offers of great fortune if you only send them your life savings and/or your first born.

But what really galls me?  Galls me to the CORE about this type of spam?

Is that obviously, whomever "hired" this person(s) to spam pins gave them a "script" or a "form" to follow, but rather than tailoring the "form" to the pin(s) in question; this person(s) just cut and pasted the whole thing into the comment section.....without any thought to the relevancy of the "comment" to that particular pin.

And that?  THAT is sheer laziness, people.  And if there is one thing I can't abide (okay, there are MANY things I can't abide) is laziness.  Particularly laziness of this type.

I realize that  being a spammer is a thankless job and that as a spammer you are reviled the world over but this is your "profession" of choice - where is your pride in a job well done?

As my mom used to tell me (repeatedly), "If you aren't going to do a job right then don't do it at all."  With that thought in mind, I would say to these extremely lazy spammers - I don't think this is the job for you.  If you can't even put in enough effort to tailor your "comment" to the subject at hand then I suggest that you look for another line of work that doesn't require a lot of heavy lifting on your part.  Professional navel gazer, perhaps?

Really? My knuckle "concerns" you? I could give you a whole list of other things to worry about.

Well over a year ago I went to the doctor (not the 12 year old one).  I had a persistent itch on my head that would NOT go away no matter what I tried.  And I tried everything, believe me.

Prior to going to the doctor, after all my ideas ran out (what?!  I'm a mom!  I'm practically a doctor - without the ability to prescribe drugs, but still....we ALL know that moms have the ability to diagnose pretty much anything) I turned to WebMD; as do all modern mothers whose diagnosing abilities have hit a dead end, and after keying in the symptoms I was pretty certain that I had either a) psoriasis or b) leprosy.  I was betting on the psoriasis since leprosy is pretty rare these days....and because I've had a bout with psoriasis once before long ago.

So off to the doctor I went; where I proclaimed to her that I had psoriasis.  She looked and informed me that I did NOT has psoriasis but that I had Xdfjdejahdfsarjalrjwe (not the real name, obviously, but I can't remember it and I'm pretty sure it was that long and had very few vowels) which was a type of fungal infection (ewwww!  Gross!  How did that happen????).

This baffled me.  Because a) how could I have been wrong b) how could WebMD have been wrong and c) HOW in the hell could *I* have contracted a fungal infection....on my HEAD!?

After reluctantly conceding that SHE was the one who actually attended medical school (and had been a mom far longer than I), I finally accepted her diagnoses and took her prescription.  And it worked.

For a little while.  And then it came back.  So I called for a refill.  And it worked.  For a while.  And then it spread.  I called for yet another refill and I was informed that I had to come back in (oh, the horror).

I put it off because by now, "my" doctor had left for her new job (just for the record, I still believe that doctors shouldn't be allowed to just abandon patients like that.....) and I was reluctant to deal with a new one.  And so I continued to itch and it continued to spread until finally I just couldn't take it anymore and I called for an appointment.

The new (fresh-faced) doctor looked me over and promptly called in another (more experienced) doctor.  They both agreed that this was, in fact, Xdfjdejahdfsarjalrjwe.  They even took samples to look at under the microscope.  They both said that "aggressive" treatment was warranted.  They checked my blood - to make sure I was "up" to the treatment since it, apparently, can wreak havoc on your kidneys.  They told me to take the pills every day for six weeks and then return to show them that they are brilliant it worked.

Immediately after taking the first pill, I noticed that new areas had broken out.  But I persevered.  Because, dammit, I was tired of the itching and I was ready for this new "aggressive" treatment to kick in.  And it helped....a little; very little (yes, I admit, I was delusionally optimistic at this point).

After six weeks, I went back so they could see how I was coming along.  Surprise, surprise.....nothing had changed.

The new doctor admitted defeat and said it was time to refer me to a dermatologist.  Fine.  Whatever.  Let's just deal with this already - that was my attitude.  It took a while but finally I got the appointment, which was for the other day.

The dermatologist looked me over and in under two minutes declared that I did NOT have Xdfjdejahdfsarjalrjwe.  She looked me in the eye and told me,

"You have psoriasis."

I looked at her in total shock and stammered, "That's what I TOLD them I had!  I WebMd'd myself!"  She laughed and said something about "Doctor Google," gave me prescriptions for a whole host of creams, ointments, sprays and instructions on what not to do (in total contradiction to what I had been instructed TO do; apparently while the symptoms are similar the treatments are not) and said that I'd probably get some relief in under three days.

THREE days!  This has been going on for OVER a year.  And do you know what one of the main triggers of psoriasis is?

Stress.

What do you want to bet that the stress of the itching, the wondering where in the world I could have contracted Xdfjdejahdfsarjalrjwe and when it was all going to stop (in addition to everything else going on in my life right now) is WHAT contributed to the spreading of it in the first place?

Only me *sigh.*   Only me.  I swear, this stuff only happens to me.

****
The good news?  After only TWO treatments (which AREN'T poised to attack my kidneys) I am already feeling 100% better.  Imagine that.  It's amazing the results you get when you are receiving treatment for what you actually have.  The bad? I have an appointment with a rheumatologist....just in case, because, apparently, psoriasis is linked with arthritis and, according to the miracle-worker doctor, my knuckle "worries" her.  Seriously?  Out of the million OTHER worrisome things about me - THAT is what she decides to worry over; my knuckle?  And again, I sigh.

He's home. And, apparently, in need of a new toothbrush.

For the past several days, this house has been uncommonly quiet.  And neat.

Man-Child was on his Senior Class trip during his Spring Break this year.  They went to Disney.  Without me.

At the beginning of the school year, when the paperwork came home, he claimed he didn't want to go.  He said that we shouldn't waste the money.  Because he doesn't "do" rides.

We told him in no uncertain terms that he WAS going and he WOULD have a great time.  We informed him that this was a trip that he'd remember for the rest of his life.  We reminded him that this would be his "last hurrah" with the majority of his classmates - as they are all headed off in different directions after graduation.

And so he went.  And by the time they were ready to go, he was actually looking forward to it.  

I'm sure that this trip is part of the school's evil plan of weaning us from our children.  Up till now, Man-Child has never been that far away from either one of us for that much time.  It was hard to get used to the quiet that pervaded the house.  Even when he is upstairs, asleep and quiet, the house just seems to be FILLED with his "there-ness".

Somehow, we got through the days.  Both of us thinking quietly to ourselves, "Wow.  THIS is what it's going to be like come fall.  I'm not ready for it."  We both ended up voicing our thoughts before the week was out.  And both admitting that we aren't looking forward to it. 

When the weary boy returned home this morning he was met with great joy.

Upon questioning, he did have a great time and is eagerly looking forward to going back some day.   He obviously didn't miss us nearly as much as we missed him as he only called us ONCE the whole time he was gone.  Oh sure, I got a few texts - but only because I initiated them; otherwise, I don't know that we would have heard from him.

There was at least one "rough spot" (as he called it) in the trip.  Right after they arrived, they were handed their passes and meal tickets.  Man-Child set his on his breakfast tray and began to eat his breakfast.  When he was done, he gathered up his tray and promptly threw everything away.  Yes, you read that right - he threw away EVERYTHING.

But, since Disney is always prepared for anything - no matter how inexplicable - (he claimed they looked like napkins) they were able to remedy the situation pretty quickly, although he did take a lot of kidding about that for the remainder of the trip. 

We also learned that the kids were pretty much on their own the entire time; only having to check in with the chaperones in the morning and at night. Granted, they were confined to the resort but still.  Just another means of weaning our children from us, I'm sure.  Giving the kids a taste of the freedom that they will be enjoying in another few months.

He informed us in no uncertain terms, that going to Florida really made him appreciate North Carolina all the more.  He called it a flat and desolate place.  He had no words of wonder for the city of Orlando.  Now, before any Floridians get offended, keep in mind that all he really saw of Florida (outside the Magic Kingdom) was seen from inside a tour bus while making their way to the home of The Mouse.  (Obviously, he has forgotten that he absolutely loved Daytona when we visited a few years ago).

He then told me that he needed a new toothbrush.  Because, according to him, the water was so vile that it surely contaminated it (at this I had to laugh, because I know that he's been pretty much exclusively brought up on well water and not city water and that there IS a difference in taste).

And with that final piece of information, we've pretty much concluded that he will never hold a job as a tourism spokesman for the great State of Florida.

We've also determined that he will never be a great photographer either.  As I was unwilling to trust him with my camera (and after the passes/meal tickets incident I think I called that one correctly), we sent him with a disposable one.  Apparently, we should have sent him with more than one - but to be honest, I really didn't think he'd take ANY pictures.  But he did.  And he has his mother's knack of taking pictures in the wrong light, from the wrong angle, etc as quite a few turned out to just be shadowy figures.  He also told me that he took lots of pictures after the film ran out.  

*sigh*  He IS his mother's child.

Things I *should* be doing instead of this....

Back in the day, there were only so many ways to distract myself from doing the things I should be doing.  But with the advent of the internet, blogging, tweeting, Pinterest, etc. I have discovered that I can now procrastinate to INFINITY.

Instead of typing this post, here are just a few of the things I should be doing instead.

*  Get dressed and ready for the day (why yes, it is after 9:00 am - don't judge!)

*  Water my plants (jeez, weren't they JUST watered a week or so ago?)

*  Nag my son to finish completing his college acceptance paperwork.

*  Throw in a load of laundry (it NEVER ends!).

*  Fold the load of clothes that have been languishing in the dryer (see?!)

*  Clean the bathrooms.....and the rest of the house.

*  Give myself a manicure and a pedicure.

*  Weed the flower beds.....AGAIN, in order to ruin said manicure.

*  Make an appointment to get a haircut.

*  Actually GO to get the haircut.

*  Run a few errands.

*  Clean out my closet.

*  Make a few phone calls.

*  Clean the garage.

*  Actually attempt some of the stuff I've "pinned" on Pinterest (which could lead to an interesting post, at least).

*  Attempt to get Man-Child ready to leave for the Senior trip tomorrow (they are going to Disney.  Can you believe they didn't ask me to chaperone?!)

*  Yell at Man-Child because his room is a total pig-sty.

*  Arrange for a Hazmat team to come in and fumigate his room after he leaves for college.

This list could go on forever.  And since I'm faffing about on the computer, here is a short list of things I should be doing on the computer instead of this....

*  Respond to a few (read a LOT) of emails.

*  Figure out what is going on with my blog format (yes, it is still giving me grief.  I mess about with it for a few minutes and then just give up).

*  Teach myself some basic HTML; since I have a sneaking suspicion that is where the format problem lies.

*  Log on to personal Facebook and catch up with a few key people (who, apparently, ONLY communicate via Facebook).

*  Fill out Man-Child's paperwork for college - since it seems he is never going to do it.

*  Clean out my email folders AGAIN.

*  Get all my downloaded pictures in order (because yeah, I never did  do that).

*  Run all the necessary updates, etc. that I keep putting off (so the computer won't implode...or explode for that matter).

Again, this list could go on forever....but since I am now feeling a bit guilty; I suppose, I shall go do four, no three, maybe two, okay.....at least ONE of those things on the lists.

So what about you?  What should you be doing instead of reading this post?

How I know the Easter Bunny is a woman....and a mom.

After the great Easter Basket debacle of 2010, I have learned.....no matter how old they get they EXPECT an Easter Basket....period.  And no excuses are accepted.

Because I've learned this lesson so very well, I have been stockpiling items for the basket.

And then I made the mistake of involving Hubby in the process.  All I asked was that he pick up some plastic grass and eggs (where all the grass and eggs from previous years have gone is anyone's guess).

The reaction I received was expected.

I heard a few "are you crazy's?"  Along with, "that is insane!"  And a few, "you DO realize that he is 17's!"

But I also know that children....children of ANY age...love receiving Easter baskets and that their mother's (usually, if they remember) love making the baskets.

And if he wasn't such a crab, Hubby might even receive one; but it's the same as with Santa....if you don't believe; you don't receive.

I also KNOW that when the Easter Bunny visits there is chocolate to be had.....and that the Easter Bunny always makes sure there is some left over for mama....and that is how I KNOW the Easter Bunny is a woman.  And a mom.

Because if the Easter Bunny were a man?  Then there would not be Easter Baskets.  Or extra chocolate.  And THAT would be a tragedy.