Instant Translator

Monday, March 12, 2012

Tiny Rat Vests

Stuff people are doing...

Capitalizing on people's love of fried foods, a local restaurateur has now added to her menu... Fried Beer. A beer-filled pretzel pocket is deep-fried to a golden brown. One bite and the escaping beer serves as a dipping sauce.

Authorities in California's Riverside County say that a woman with a gun robbed 11 customers at a farmer's market - but only got away with $6, for a total take of just under 55 cents per person threatened. Just 166,667 more crimes like that and she'll be a millionaire.

A prospective employee at Man's company listed her current job as an "administrative ass."

Scientists at Penn State University are sewing tiny weighted vests to put on healthy laboratory rats. The scientists are hoping to discover how animals’ muscles respond to changes in body weight.

A British researcher from Cardiff University has determined that February 17 was 2012's most depressing day. His formula for this bleak prediction took into account factors like post-holiday blahs and debt and failed New Year’s resolutions, and...clothing size? Go figure.

Yup, that's kinda how I felt about this stuff, too...





Friday, March 9, 2012

One more thought about Boy...


Until Boy becomes not a teenager, I will have to try and be smart enough to understand him.  I will root around and soul search for enough compassion to forgive him his rude ways and work at being patient enough to deal with his moodiness.  I will truly work at allowing him to make all the mistakes he needs to in order to learn and grow.  I will NOT, however, pray for strength because I do not want to beat him to death.  

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Teenage Boy

Note:  I may diminish my credibility as a loving and caring parent because of this post.  But I need to vent, so please don't be too harsh.
Everyone makes jokes about their teenagers, but no one does anything about them...
Seriously, I was warned by parents way more experienced than I about the plethora of insane behaviors I could expect from my child when he got to be 14 or 15.  Despite the many ways I have tried to forget the follies of my own youth, I still remember how difficult it was to be a teenager and how silly and irrelevant my parents were and how just about EVERYONE over the age of ME was really annoying and basically a big pain.  So I sort of get Boy's erratic behavior, but only to a point.  

A few things I don't understand:
  • Why does he dig through the dirty clothes hamper to find a shirt to wear rather than wear one of the clean ones hanging in his closet?
  • Why, if he is "not hungry", does he eat an entire bag of potato chips, 2 quarts of orange juice, three peaches and my secret stash of KitKat bars in one sitting?
  • Why are pork chops and broccoli "disgusting" and sour Gummy Worms "really legit"?
  • How can this brilliant and gifted sprout fail a biology test because he neglected to answer the questions on the back of the test paper?  (The question which ended mid-sentence on the FRONT of the test paper was apparently not enough to clue him in that there were some additional questions on the reverse of the page.)
  • Why can he get completely showered and dressed and out the door on a weekend morning in approximately 6 minutes but must take a 40 minute shower on a school morning thereby requiring he eat his breakfast either in the car or running through the halls of the school while he desperately tries to beat the bell?
I know this is so cliched, but I just don't get it.  I mean, I really really try but I still find myself, huddled in my bathroom, silently screaming "WHY?"  So many people I know are just rolling through their kids' teenage years with way less stress than me.  When I question them about how they manage and cope, they say things like "Oh, just choose your battles" and "It could be even worse" and basically act like it is no big deal that their once lovable and sweet and funny and interesting kid is now essentially a tsucheppenish*.  I think that they are probably not being straight with me...I bet they silently scream in their bathrooms, too.  And I wouldn't be surprised to learn that they probably drink way more than I do or that prescription sedatives play a major role in maintaining their calm and cool demeanor.  Whatever their secrets, my manner of coping will continue to require that I spend way more time in my bathroom...
* Huge pain in the ass

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

The Real Chopped Champion

So, the other night I was thinking about how the program managers or producers at the Food Network ought to create an amateur version of their show, "Chopped". In case you're not familiar with it, it basically goes like this: four professional chefs compete to put together a meal using a bunch of strange ingredients. Think octopus and avocado and cactus pear strange. So anyway, the mystery ingredients, as they are called because the chefs don't know what they're cooking until right before each round, must all be used in some combination and turned into a pleasing, palatable dish and served to three judges. After the dish is prepared, the chefs go to the chopping block to await the judges decision of whose dish is the best, and whose is so bad, the chef gets chopped from the competition - hence the name of the show.  It is a pretty entertaining show, all in all. But, the more I thought of how I should present my idea for the amateur version of the show, I realized that I basically have lived "Chopped" every single day since becoming a parent! Poor Boy was (and still is, for that matter) pretty much my judge and my chopping block. But unlike the judges on the TV show, no matter what I turned out, he had to eat it. Of course, back in the day, he really didn't have many pre-conceived ideas about what made a great meal. Because no one ever told us we shouldn't, Man and I, from the time Boy was just Baby, fed him exactly what we ate. We just chopped it up into a slurry in the blender.  On Boy's first Thanksgiving, he enjoyed a complete traditional turkey day dinner, including the sweet potato pie! And food we cooked, like Chicken Caccitore, replete with hot red pepper and onions and garlic was stuffed into the Mix Master as well and he ate right along side of me and Man. We simply fed him what we ate, just a mushier version. And as Boy began to grow up, and life got more hectic, some days I did stand in front of him and justify that a cucumber omelet was an excellent meal choice. As was Mom's Magic Pizza (catsup and oregano on white bread topped with any kind of cheese. Once, there was no cheese in the house, so I smeared blue cheese salad dressing on the bread and Boy loved it)! Not unlike probably every other mother faced with providing a healthy and delicious meal for their child, I got creative with what was on hand. I mean, I probably will never have octopus in my pantry, but I would like to see those professionals create a satisfying family meal from bullion cubes, Boy Scout gourmet popcorn, Swiss cheese and a handful of elbow macaroni!  Bet they couldn't do it.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

What to Wear...

In honor of NY Fashion Week, I am cleaning out my closet so I can make room for whatever new stuff I might buy.  It's not really a big job, because I truly have no clothes, except for gym and running wear, that same one "grown-up" white shirt that's been hanging around for some time now, a bunch of bathing suits (which I hang in my closet because the drawer space is taken up by my shorts and tee shirts) and a shirt I bought while I was obviously under the impression that I have a glamorous and socially active lifestyle and would therefore need an orange chiffon ripple blouse, to compliment my (non-existent) silk charmeuse trousers and my (also non-existent) Christian Louboutin's.  So, as I stared dismally at the tangled mass of bathing suits I realize that, fashion-wise, I am pretty much a hot mess. And, I realize that what I need is a personal shopper.  As in the "What Not to Wear" variety of personal shoppers.  Because I am pretty sure that any personal shopper worth their Channel* bag would have steered me away from the orange ripple blouse.  In fact, I probably wouldn't have even been in the same department as that blouse, or even the same store, for that matter!  I used to have some fashion smarts and a pretty decent sense of style, back before I became a parent.  While some women easily make that transition back from Mother to Style Maven, if they even ever allowed themselves to go over to the "mommy side" category of dress - me...well, not so much.  Some time ago I did throw away all the really grungy tee shirts and only kept the nicer ones.  And, I did ditch the unflattering one-piece bathing suit I wore only twice after my son was born.  But I never quite made it back to my former stylish self.  While I'll not ever make it onto someones best dressed list, on the upside, I do have bikinis in fourteen different colors and how many other Mom's can say that?

*This just reinforces that fashion-wise, I am in trouble.  My misspelling of one of the most famous design houses ever is a cry for help...