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WZIP - "When You Deserve Nothing But The Best"

Grammarama

From theproofreaders.com

Commonly Confused Grammar Test: Which is correct?

10 items or less/10 items or fewer

Go lie down/Go lay down

I could care less/I couldn't care less

Between you and me.../Between you and I...

In the 1930s/In the 1930's

It will take its place/It will take it's place

I'm first, am I not?/I'm first, aren't I?

I'm anxious to see you again/I'm eager to see you again

I'm able to ride a bike/I'm capable of riding a bike

ANSWERS

How did you do?

"Check enclosed"

I wish I could get paid for this. Maybe not exactly "this" as in this blog but becoming a paid writer is up on my list of things to do. I have a screenplay written, numerous sketches, a handful of essays, a children's book character without a written home and a personal blog. I don't need to be paid for any of those. I enjoy creative writing as a whole and don't actively look for a paycheck in that arena. I'm afraid if I made it my job it would ruin it somehow for me. I do however look for pay in business writing. Sprucing up resumes, writing grant proposals and creating press releases are some of the ways I am willing to do this. I see it as working my way through college without shedding my clothes at a stripper pole. It's writing that other people don't want to do and are readily willing to pay someone else to take it off of their hands. Any income I get from freelance writing can be put toward my family and I can finally call myself a working writer.

I'm not saying I don't think I'll ever make money writing creatively but it's an outlet for myself that I like to keep. I equate it to the musician who becomes a rock star and ends up hating his band. I also feel that writing helps me hold on to my sanity. I've always wanted to be a professional "something". I never felt like I had choice because of my educational background (or lack thereof).

And there you have it. My thoughts for the day.

Thanksgiving me a rash

I posted "What I am thankful for" in 2008 and most everything on my list still applies. A few additions and subtractions but all in all, not much has changed. I'm not that crazy about Jim and Pam anymore now that they've actually gotten together and the sexual tension has turned to married bickering. The spark is gone for me.

I am thankful for the kid-splosion as of late in our ever expanding family. This year we welcomed my niece and Goddaughter Lily, my daughter Alice, and Jacob; our first cousin once removed. In early January of 2011 we welcome our second niece who is yet to be named. So, I will refer to her as Carmen until she is officially not Carmen.




Other things to be thankful for:

The rise of crazy good television programming

A steady income

Our lovely townhouse

Immediate and Extended family are all healthy and still sane (as far as I can tell)

And of course, the freedom to blog.

They are cute for a reason.

I had a post all ready to go but it looks like it will have to wait a little while. I had five minutes where I didn't need to get anything for anybody and I thought I'd write something. It was going to be good, believe me. As soon as I sit my happy ass down it's as if the 5 year old can sense something is amiss. It doesn't matter that mere seconds ago she was perfectly content playing a video game downstairs by herself. Out of nowhere she decides she is lonely and it's the moment I sit down to relax for five fracking minutes. It's no wonder I have to manually separate my jaw from my top molars. I do it without realizing it and I'm ruining my teeth. I'm not at perma-frown status yet but sometimes I wonder when that is next.

"My parents never smiled... because I had brain damage. My wife and I don't smile because our children are LOADED with it. Oh, my parents smile now, whenever they come over to the house and see how much trouble I'm having. Oh, they have a ball! "Havin' a li'l trouble, huh, son?"- Bill Cosby

War and Peanuts

It's that time again. My turn has come to bring a snack to preschool. Never have I felt more disappointed for my daughter then when I had to choose between Soy Mango Vanilla Ice Cream or Pretzels for her birthday. We choose the soy stuff and she claimed to have liked it. Sure, you can try to jazz it up a little with some sprinkles but it's not the same. The snack list is absurdly limited and selfishly I admit, I have a problem with it. Among the laundry list of allergies there are the usual dairy items but also a few stranger ones like chocolate and cheddar cheese. The best "Ch" foods have been forbidden. Cast out of the classroom like some sort of pox. As I came to realize when I brought in our sorry excuse for birthday treats there is also a mango allergy. Luckily, the child had her own snack for just such occasions. Which brings me to my problem. Why can't these children do this regularly? When I was a kid those that couldn't partake in our class snack had a whole box of their own specially formulated treats that Mom or Dad brought in at the beginning of the year. Of course, these children were typically outcasts anyway but that is just not the point I'm trying to make here. Is it because these allergies are just that severe that if a peanut is even brought into the classroom someone's ribcage will collapse?

I know the real reason is because no one wants to be left out. No little kid wants to have a cupcake set down in front of them only to be taken away when realized they are allergic to the paper that surrounds it. Preschool isn't the appropriate venue for learning about life's disappointments just yet. 1st grade will do a terrific job in due time.

Chunkenstein

Yesterday was Alice's half birthday and also her scheduled well visit and immunizations. I decided that I would get the flu shot that day in order to really feel her pain. I believe I can be a better support system when I am the other crying baby in the room. She was weighed in at a very healthy, very chunky 19 lbs 10 oz. Her thighs are so big that it's getting harder to strap her in to her car seat. I've already threaded the seatbelt into the "Your baby is too fat for this" slot and I'm still having problems. It doesn't help that she is also a cloth diapered child so that certainly adds to the girth. I'm not actually complaining though. She's the cutest little (big?) thing ever.

More?

My breakfast confuses me. The package of cinnamon raisin bread boasted there were 50% more raisins. I'm curious where they came up with that figure. 50% more than what? I can only assume they mean from 'before'. So, does that mean there were only a 50% ratio to begin with and they were short changing me all these years? Denying everyone more raisins and rationing them like squirrels hoarding nuts? But that then begs the question 50% ratio of what? Raisins to bread? Half raisins, half bread? Now that there is 50% more I know I'm not getting 100% of raisins. That would be just a raisin. No bread. Let's say there were 100% of raisins originally and now they have added 50% more. Nobody needs that many damn raisins.

Oh well. Now I have a headache and my toast is getting cold.

Rising up.

I saw a show recently on Discovery about Mental Time Travel or in other words, thinking. There were psychologists and scientists both trying to prove that time travel is possible. They said to think back to your early days and you can discover truths about yourself now that you didn't know were there. I sat down and gave this "thinking" a try and came up with a set of memories from my childhood.

My earliest memory is my father accidentally kicking me in the head as he dismounted the bike we were both riding on. I believe I was three. It's all just downhill from that point. I remember the various spots on the carpet in our apartment in Prospect Heights that were stained with my barf. You're welcome. I also remember the car accident my family was in when I was four that had resulted in me going through Aural Glass Extraction. I made that term up for myself because it just sounds too gory to explain to someone I had glass sucked out of my ear. I came up with the memory of the first time I was called a "bitch". It was on the playground at school by a little turd named, Danny. I laughed at him when he fell on his butt after careening off the slide. I was seven.

As I sat back and mentally time traveled I shuddered at all of the embarrassing and just plain boring memories I came up with. My mind is such an a-hole. So, in order for me to put aside all of the uncomfortable thoughts I was having I decided to put in some home movies. I know for a fact that nothing embarrassing will pop up there and make me hide under a blanket. Those tapes have been burned in a ritualistic manner years ago. I saw my family opening presents on Christmas in our old barf stained apartment. It was 1988 and we were so happy and ridiculously dressed. My parents didn't care about the stains on the carpet. No one called me a name. We were happy. I watched everything on that tape and it felt good. I teared up when I saw my Nana but still poked fun at her choice of eyewear. I realized that my memories were much different than what my childhood was really like. Of course you'll think about all the terrible and awkward moments that seem to define you, but they don't. I know I'm not a bitch, and Danny is probably a drug addict now. Everything evens out in the end.

Eats, Shoots and Leaves.

Skimming at a fifth grade level.

Everyone loves lists. It's a fact. There are lists for everything from top ten places to see before you die to the top ten places to see after you die. I can't say for sure what the appeal is with reading lists but I can guess it's popular with busy types or anyone with ADD. When you want your daily blog fix but you neither have the time nor the sustainable interest, a list with bold titles is the way to go. Pictures are a plus as well. Lists are a skimmer's dream and a satisfying way to squeeze in that extra bit of criticism to get you through the day.

I present to you now, "How Erin reads a top ten list".

10. Yes, I like this choice for the number ten spot. I will read on.

Oooh, look at the wittle kitteh kat. This is going to be a fun paragraph to read. Eh, too long. And, I'm done.

I don't want to read about you anymore.

9. A not so interesting choice for this spot. I'll skip this one.

8. Meh. I'll give this a few sentences to redeem itself.

The Large Hadron Collider (LHC).... I'm already yawning.

7. Are they kidding? They picked this?

_________________________________________________

And so on and so forth. To be honest I'm getting bored of this post about lists. Although maybe if I were to encounter one somewhere on the internet that had both kittens and The Large Hadron Collider listed I'd give it the old college try.

I've been very good this year.

I could literally spend hours on Etsy.com. I had planned to put up some crafty items that I had made for sale but can't seem to stop looking at what I want long enough to do so. I don't need any of it, but it is a strong and powerful want. *Polymer clay earrings that resemble rainbow sprinkle donuts? Yes, please. Purple vampire monkey plushie? I'll take it! There is not only a huge selection of clothes and jewelry that I don't need but there is an entire section of crafts under "Geekery". Squeal!

I feel I am a responsible adult and a functioning member of society all year long so that is why I am thrilled Christmas is coming. I know now that I am an adult I'm supposed to say things like, "Oh, don't make a fuss over me." and "I could really use some new dish gloves." I think I've paid my dues and done more than my fair share of scraping crap off the floor for the year. I also think I have done a splendid job of leading other members of the PTL to believe I am a normal person. Maybe I should just ask for some sort of new vacuum or something grown up like lottery tickets and pantyhose (Not sure who I'm thinking of here). Or I could have fun with my life. Merry Christmas, now can I have this Goomba necklace?

*By the way, Donut earrings can be found on my Amazon wish list. Winkety Wink Wink.

The bane of my existence

I believe that if I managed to wash and put away every item of clothing in the house it would mark the end of my life. After the last pair of mismatched socks was shoved in a drawer I would start off with a small giggle which would lead into a hearty chuckle which would then turn into full blown maniacal laughter. Laughter so insane that it could only be done while violently throwing my head back. I'd then smack it on something hard and die.

Don't worry. This will never happen. I will never die. I have way too much $#%@ laundry to do.

The Joy of Cooking.

Right now four windows are open, two fans are on and children are being ushered out of the kitchen in fear of smoke inhalation. I am making meatloaf tonight.
Clearly, I can't just quit cooking. It would be very costly and way too easy to gain fifty pounds of Kentucky fried fat. So instead I will continue to punish my family with home cooked meals.

The end result is never as bad as the process. For whatever reason something is always spilled, burned, improperly cut or I just simply get too drunk to continue. That has happened for the record. I thought that by watching a lot of Food Network it would inspire me to get creative in the kitchen and use Arugula. All it did was create a new show addiction. If you are unfamiliar with the show, "Chopped" allow me to break it down for you the best way I know how. In fragmented sentences.

Each week four chefs (or would it be cheves?) compete for $10,000 and the coveted title of Chopped Champion. There are three courses that are placed in front of the harsh but lovable judges. First course is the appetizer, second is the entree and third is dessert. I'm still hoping that they will recognize the cocktail course but I'm optimistic. Each contestant is given a basket of ingredients that have no business in the same dish. Their challenge is to pull together a cohesive meal or they will be Chopped®. The shows host Ted Allen will spout off the incredible basket contents with a certain smugness that I very much enjoy. "For this next dish you are to include; Apple cores, Dish Soap, Pants stolen off of a sleeping hobo and Almonds. You have fifteen minutes." As I sit in front of the t.v. snacking on my bag of hobo pants I laugh and say there is no way they can pull this off. I can barely hold a fork without dropping it but yet I still sit here and judge. America is a beautiful place.

"Today I have prepared for you an Apple Alronde Chateau Fromage with Panko encrusted Khaki and Almond Soap Chutney."

Damn it.

........................

I've made the promise to write in my blog everyday but I feel a little bad sitting upstairs on the computer ignoring my husband on our wedding anniversary. I did post twice yesterday. So, yeah. I'll be back tomorrow. I leave you with this picture of an otter proudly displaying her newborn.

You are my sunshine

One of my very favorite things in this strange and angry world is coffee. Besides the obvious loves like family, food, God and breathing I'm quite partial to a strong cup of Joe. My husband brings me coffee in the morning and sets it on the bedside table before I've even rubbed the eye boogers out of my face. He's a wonderful and lovely man. I used to drink it with milk and sugar. Not much of each but enough for some sweetness. Then without my knowledge the coffee was gradually getting stronger. The light brown drink was becoming darker over the weeks and soon enough the sugar was gone completely. I noticed this change after awhile but didn't say anything because hey, I'm being served coffee in bed. Now I drink it black but only at home. I'm adventurous and like to try different flavors. My favorite coffee drink at the moment is a Mocha from Starbucks. I enjoy the taste of espresso without the full blast in the face of flavor. Chocolate tends to make everything better as does ice cream. So, when I came across this recipe for homemade espresso ice cream I truly felt like the internet was speaking only to me.

Thank you, internet. I'll be sure to add you to my Christmas card list.

At least I still get candy...

So, in case you didn't know last night was Halloween. It's a lot different for me now since having children of my own. I used to love everything associated with Halloween. The crappy horror movies, haunted houses, going to parties and drinking out of plastic skull heads. Everything. When I worked for Center Stage our dress code was a costume. I'd pride myself on my ability to create the nastiest, bloodiest make up jobs and receive high praises from adolescent boys. I loved it all.

This has now become my secret love. I have to make sure that when we visit a pumpkin farm that it isn't too scary. God forbid a costumed employee walk too close. I'd never hear the end of it. I minimize windows on the computer when she walks by because I am reading about the top ten most terrifying places in America. I've endured Dora the Explorer's Halloween Special. Honestly, anything Dora says is more frightening than whatever is on that list. But, my daughter enjoys it.

And that is where I stop the ranting. Watching her get so excited to dress up and go trick or treating is better than any party I've been to. It's gotten to the point where I remember what it was like to be her age. I remember the thrill and being scared of other people's costumes. I have fond memories of trick or treating with my mother trying to keep up while I sprinted from house to house. I know I'll get my horror movies back someday but for now, I love my kid friendly Halloween.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have some Urban Legends to read up on before I pick her up from school.

NaNoWriMo is a NoGo

I tend to get these silly ideas in my head that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. Before you start to think that this is a "woe is me" post, I will preface by saying that I am just fine with my limitations. I understand and have come to terms with the fact that I am an incredibly spontaneous thinker. I get an idea and pretend that I have the time and energy to fulfill it. Have you met Alice? Anyway, I had the notion to participate in National Novel Writing Month this year but I've been inspired by my next door neighbor/Sister/fellow crazy person to write in my blog every day for a month. Ideas may seep in to my brain like jelly in the kitchen tiles (note: Don't forget to clean kitchen floor) but this is one I am confident I'll stick with. With which I will stick.

Hiatus (another word for lazy)

I return. I return wiser, older and plus one more child. I return with a certificate that says I am allowed to write comedy. I have a better understanding of the meaning and importance of "me time" but in many ways prefer "family time". I still talk with my hands and hate honey in my tea but have grown in other places. Unfortunately, mostly in my hips and ass.

It's good to be back.