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I spent a good portion of last night and today moving things over, so no post today. Sorry!

Culture Shock

More background on me, the family and our trip to Russia and a story about how we were attacked by rabid fish can be found here.

***

To say things were a bit different in Russia than they were back at home in Jersey would be a gross understatement. Even the city we were in was unlike anything I'd seen back home. It was clean. Even when we were in Moscow, the subways were not only gorgeous-- think marble, gold plating, etc.-- they were spotlessly clean. They looked more like museums than public transport stations.

Even the vending machines in Moscow weren't like what we had. If you wanted a can of soda, you'd go to a kiosk and pay an exorbitant fee for a can. If you went to a vending machine, you paid a man, he rinsed and wiped clean a glass and stuck it under a spout at the vending machine. You'd then have a glass of soda. Yes, ick. But you should've seen the people line up.

There was a huge park in the center of the town I was staying in. The entire city was built like a bullseye. The park was huge and unmapped. I recall finding an amusement park there-- I have a story I'm saving for another time-- a pond, a ski lift-- very rickety, a total nightmare-- taking you up to a restaurant shaped like a man's head with an arm extended out, holding a torch, and a host of other little places. My favorite discovery was a cafe we found. None of the family had ever seen it before.

We'd found it by accident during one of our daily walks-- you walk everywhere there, something I'd be unused to. It looked almost like a church from the outside, all old stone and two story stained glass windows. But the windows depicted folk dancers from the region. I remember the first time I saw the place. I stood there, in awe, for at least five minutes.

The inside looked more like a night club minus the dancefloor. Rich red carpeting, tables scattered throughout, screens giving privacy to other tables on the left, a bar to the right, and music. For the first time since I'd been in Russia, I heard music with words I not only understood, but knew! British music was pumping through the speakers. I'd turned all Rain Man, spouting off information about the songs playing. My cousin, A, looked concerned until my father assure him that this was normal. For me anyway.

I found out that they weren't used to tipping there. The waitress thought that I'd overpaid her and when I told her it was a tip, she looked confused. I explained to her how the process worked and she thought the whole thing ridiculous. I snuck the tip under my saucer and hurriedly left.

When we weren't walking, we hitched rides. This is a normal custom over there. A random car stops, picks you up and takes you, at least part of the way, to your destination. You then give the driver some money for their trouble. People did this because cars were another luxury that many did not have. I don't think I knew of any two car households there. The lack of cars was probably a good thing considering how people drove. Traffic laws weren't followed.

My uncle explained the whole thing to me this way: After the fall of communism, most didn't know what to do. They didn't grasp the concept of democracy. Freedom, to them, meant no laws. All had become anarchy. The police weren't able to contain it and, after a while, stopped trying. Everything they had known was now gone. It was a scary time for them and, even after all that time, they were only just starting to tear down the statues of Lenin around town. The Russian mafia thrived during this time. They were completely ruthless and the only "police" that the people feared.

But back to driving. Lines on the road? Mere suggestion! Lights and stop signs? Ha! Speed limit? You're joking, right? Being in a car was rather like being in a video game. The other cars were asteroids coming directly at you at high speeds. It was a game of chicken unlike any you've ever seen. Throw in pedestrians and it was rather like Frogger. It was only when it was nearly time to leave that I didn't have about fifty heart attacks in a car.

Another disturbing thing was the lack of indoor plumbing in the houses out in the suburbs or rural areas. As a child, I was famous for holding it in rather than peeing anywhere but a normal toilet. This was rather like a nightmare for me. What was worse was the paper they expected one to wipe with. It was actual paper. It was a good thing I'd brought mini packs of tissues to carry along with me everywhere.

On the plus side-- I'm taking a wiiiiiide turnabout here-- was the food. Well, fruits and vegetables, in particular. They were amazing. Very flavorful and unlike anything I'd have before or since. I mainly subsisted on fruits and veg while there. I had stopped eating red meat earlier that year, so I didn't have to eat the rather unappetizing hunk of boiled meat with chunks of fat clinging to it. It was easier to eat the boiled chicken and fried fish. The fish was sometimes served for breakfast, but usually we had bread, butter, and caviar with tea or coffee. Caviar isn't expensive there. At least not the kind we had. It came in a tin like tuna and was cheaper than a can of soda.

Most of the food was bought at a bazaar, bakery, fishmonger, or butcher. Most bakers, fishmongers and butchers liked to be situated near the bazaar in order to sell their goods more quickly. But they also were more expensive than the others that were further away. The bazaar was rather like a massive flea market but with spices, fruits and vegetables for sale. I loved going to them-- and have a story about a trip to one for another time.

Most of my time, though, was spent with family. In particular, my cousin A's two children. We watched quite a lot of Mexican telenovelas and Duck Tales, both dubbed in Russian. I was able to understand the language better than I could speak it. To make myself understood, I spoke French. For some reason, this worked better than my attempts at Russian. The whole thing gave Den a migraine. That was an added bonus. By the end of my stay, I'd memorized the theme song to Duck Tales in Russian. Not that I knew what the hell I was saying, but I was told that my pronunciation was excellent.

***

Well, that's all I can remember. Stupid Blooooooger. Stay tuned for the address change.

Hell

Well, Blogger ate another post and I can't fully recover it so I'm highly pissed off right now. I'm also pretty sure that I'm done with Blogger for good and will be looking for another host.

I'm tired of this.

Planes, trains, and automobiles..

It was the summer just before my senior year in high school. I was 16. I figured that I had a nice long summer of doing nothing and hanging at friends' houses doing nothing. This didn't bother me as much this year because some of my friends now had licenses and cars. That meant roadtrips.

Things didn't turn out exactly as I planned. Out of the blue, my father casually asked me if I'd like to go to Russia. "Sure," I said, quite sure that it'd never happen but wishing it would. Russia would beat a trip to the beach any day. Nothing else was said about it for a few weeks. I laughingly mentioned the whole thing to my friends and they were sure it would never happen also. Then one night, my father told me that I needed to get my picture taken for the passport. There wasn't enough time, we'd have to rush order it.

I was surprised, to say the least. I got my picture taken. It was awful. Mounds of paperwork. Visas, tickets, etc. I barely had time to pack. I told my friends I was, indeed, going to Russia. They still didn't believe me. We had a sorta bon voyage party at my friend's house. They were still waiting for the whole thing to be cancelled. But it was actually happening.

It wasn't until we got to the airport and were waiting on line that I started to panic a bit. This was my very first time on an airplane. I wanted my mom to come along, but she refused. She won't ever go on a plane.

While waiting, I bought a crapload of magazines even though I brought a crapload of books with me to read. I even offered to buy my cousin-- who was also going on the trip, along with his mother who happened to be my father's twin sister-- some magazines or a book. He refused. He snottily informed me that he'd be watching the movie on the plane. I asked if he was sure that there would be a movie on the plane. He said he was. I shrugged and bought my magazines anyway. I get bored too easily, it was a long flight, blah blah blah. I stuffed them into my already bulging backpack-- my carry-on stuffed with cassettes and books-- and headed back to wait.

We finally boarded. I asked for the window seat by promising to give it up on the way back. My father and aunt went back into the smoking section. It was just me and my cousin, Den, and some guy stuck in the aisle seat. Den and I fought over the arm rest a bit, then settled down to listen to the flight attendant. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, so I popped on my headphones and listened to some Chili Peppers. I could tell that Den was straining to hear what I was listening to, but I avoided telling him for as long as possible because once I did, there was a minor scuffle over my headphones. The guy next to Den already looked worried. I almost felt bad for the guy.

A voice came over the speakers saying that there was a minor delay and that we'd be the next ones out. Yeah, he said that again an hour later when I was watching the sun set and eating my "breakfast". It irked me that they were feeding me breakfast at night. I'm not a breakfast foods person. I ate my cereal dry, drank my tea, traded my milk for a juice, and tried to choke down some rubbery scrambled eggs. And I waited. About another half hour went by before we took off. I was already half way through my first magazine.

I was surprised to find that the takeoff didn't scare me. Maybe because I was too busy laughing at Den, who was practically peeing his pants. He took over the armrests and I think he might've prayed a bit. I mocked him a bit and watched out the window.

Not even fifteen minutes in the air and Den started whining at me for a magazine. I wouldn't give any up, reminding him that I offered to buy him some and he refused. I told him to watch his movie. He whined that there was no movie. I smirked-- my favorite pastime-- and asked him if he felt stupid now. He grumbled and flipped through the safety manual thingie.

We made several stops-- Nova Scotia and Ireland-- and some questionable meals-- there was a dare to try the smoked salmon, it tasted like burning tires and took several drinks to get rid of that god awful taste-- before landing in Moscow. I hadn't slept a wink during the entire 13 hour flight. I'd been far too excited and, hell, I had books and music. I very nearly begged to stay in Ireland-- so beautiful!-- but was eager to get to Moscow. Leaving the airport was a bit of a blur. We were met by another cousin, A, who got us through without stopping at customs.

A asked if we wanted a tour of Moscow after we dropped off our luggage. We were supposed to take a smaller plane to southern Russia, where my family lives, but that wound up not happening for some reason that I can no longer recall. Something about it not being safe. We were going to take a train at midnight.

We walked. Oh, god, how we walked. I hadn't slept in over 24 hours, so much of the city was a blur. I do recall standing in Red Square. I saw a bride and groom walk through with their wedding party. I took pictures. I wanted to see so many things. I was soooo tired. Eventually, we went to rest up a bit at the hotel. Den and I found the Russian version of MTV and watched until we passed out.

I remember being shaken. I woke up and had a crick in my neck from sleeping sitting up. The tv was still on, playing cheesy hair band music. I was told to get ready to go. I washed up and went out on the balcony. There I saw a sight I'll never forget: Red Square, directly across the street from me, all lit up. It was surreally beautiful. I just stood there and stared until we had to run.

We drove to the train station and got our tickets. I remember running from platform to platform, dragging along my luggage, still groggy from my nap. We hopped on the train and settled into our compartments. It was a tiny little room. Two benches, covered in naugahyde, facing each other. There was a window and a small table under it that folded up. I wondered where we'd put our luggage and discovered that the seats of the benches lifted up and were the perfect size for our bags. I was squeezed into the room with my aunt. I wasn't pleased. We'd never gotten along, even on the best of days. But I was excited enough about the whole trip to ignore her barbs and jabs.

Even the little dinky bathroom down the hall didn't depress me. The sink was small and metal, the tap a pipe jutting out of the wall. I won't even describe the toilet or the smell. I banged my head on the pipe while washing my face before bed. I nearly took out an eye while removing my contacts. I asked how long the trip would be by train and was a bit depressed to hear that it would take 3 days.

I made my way to my bench/bed. I made a pillow out of a jacket and pulled the blanket-- made for someone about 3' tall and in love with itchy materials-- up around my shoulders and was rocked to sleep by the train. That is until I was nearly thrown from my bench when the train made a stop. The only thing that saved me was the table that I caught with my face. Did I mention that they turned up the air conditioner full blast? I was swiftly turning blue. I dug through my luggage, in the dark, and threw on whatever warm clothing I could find by feel. Then I crawled back onto the bench and found a way to cling to the back of the bench so I wouldn't fly off it the next time the train stopped. That's when my aunt started to snore. Loudly. Eventually, I passed out from sheer exhaustion only to be woken up by the very same aunt early in the morning because she felt I was being lazy sleeping in. Because how dare I sleep in past 6:30 AM on my vacation. Yeah, you see why we didn't get along? 3 days of that.

By the end, I became a pro at putting in and taking out my contacts without a mirror and in a moving train. I also discovered that you really don't want to eat the food on Russian trains. You buy food at the stops and hurry back on. I also learned that I really disliked my cousin and aunt. A lot. And I got to spend a whole 6 weeks with them in Russia. But more on that later..

We finally got to our stop. I very nearly kissed the ground. It was an odd sensation walking on still ground after all of that rocking side to side on the train. That very slow train. I recall watching people run past us while we were on it. But we were finally at my family's apartment. I wanted nothing more than to shower, eat, then sleep. In that order. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. We were to see visitors who'd come to see us. I hadn't bathed in days, nor had I eaten a decent meal, and I had to talk to people I didn't know and didn't want to know. I nearly cried. And then I found out that we'd be staying in a different apartment than this one. Without my aunt. That cheered me up a bit.

Thankfully, the people left quickly, I was allowed to bathe and eat. We were taken to the apartment in which we'd be staying. I had the futon in the living room, my father got the short bed in the bedroom, my cousin got a cot in the hall. Now that's what I call karma.

Luck

My family is very superstitious. Very. I grew up with tea leaves, coffee grounds, cards, and even bones being read. This was normal. For my family anyway.

When I started collecting various decks of tarot cards, no one blinked an eye. A few even bought me decks to add to my collection. It was even suggested that I wrap my cards in silk for protection. I was taught to read regular playing cards while I was in Russia. The woman who taught me had the same name as me, but I didn't know this at the time.

I met her when I'd gone into my cousin's kitchen for a glass of water. I was only introduced to her as my cousin's card reader. We shook hands, she looked me in the eye and said she would teach me to read cards. Now. Several people were gathered around to translate and I dutifully took notes. Later that day, I bought a deck of cards that I'd found particularly appealing and started. Unfortunately, that deck, along with my notes, and all of my other decks are all gone now.

Apparently, while I was in Russia, word got around that I was pretty darn good at "seeing" things. I'm not quite sure how that got around, really. All I know is that one day, after sitting around drinking tea, we passed our cups around and jokingly told each other's fortunes. I didn't know what the symbols meant, so I only told them the images I saw. Next thing I know, I'm being shuttled around from house to house and asked to find pictures in the shoulder blade of a lamb freshly killed to honor my visit.

Upon further reflection, my life is filled with a lot of these odd little moments. I never thought much of them at the time. I wonder why.

Anyway, superstition.. I always found that I had good luck on Friday the 13th. Likewise, black cats crossing my path never brought me harm. They usually signified something good coming my way. I never walked under a ladder just because it seemed like a stupid thing to do. Bad things always come in threes. I'd learned these from family members and on my own. The only one who disagreed with any of the above was my mom. Black cats were the worst luck, she always said.

We went for a walk the other day. Mom immediately spotted it. A black cat crossing the street in front of us. "Just what I need now," she said, looking a bit upset. I told her how they always brought me the best of luck. It made me optimistic about what was coming. She just shook her head and worried.

Today, I got a call about work. The training and orientation that had been delayed were back on this week. We chatted, things went well, everything was set up.

I talked to my mom at lunchtime and she told me that she'd gotten into an accident in the morning. How it had happened so fast and how things were looking grim. She blamed the cat. I told her that I needed to glue a horseshoe to her forehead because she'd drawn some seriously bad luck this year.

Even with the bad news, I can't help but feel optimistic. Maybe it's because the sun is shining and the sky is a cloudless blue. Maybe it's because of the newly sprouting and blooming plants everywhere I look. Maybe it's because deep down inside, I actually believe that we make our own luck good or bad. So much for superstition after all.

Happy Day!

To all mothers past, present and future,

Happy Mother's Day!

With love,
R

A Stork of Genius

My mother-- like many other mothers, I'm sure-- is rather fond of watching Lifetime movies. She has somehow wrangled my daughter into watching them. The problem with this-- besides the whole watching Lifetime movies thing-- is that my daughter has the attention span of a golden retriever on crack. She spends most of the movie asking questions about what she just talked over, not realizing that no one else heard a damn thing over her yammering. This has lead to the rule "Mouth shut, ears open". I should mention that my daughter isn't a follower of rules.

So after our Mother's Day breakfast, and Golden Girls, a Lifetime movie comes on. I groan, but suffer (mostly) silently. It's Mother's Day, after all. I'm forced to explain mental retardation to her because one of the lead characters is playing a mentally retarded woman. I also make sure to explain that it's only an actress playing a role because The Girl? Is quite literal at times.

The movie goes on and the grandmother dies of a stroke. This lead to this conversation..

The Girl: "Is she dead?"
Me: "Weren't you paying attention?"
The Girl: "But did she die?"
Mom: "If you would just stop talking long enough to hear what's going on.."
The Girl: "But is she dead? Wait.. They're taking her to the hospital...?"
Me: "They put the sheet over her head. They generally don't transport people that way.."
The Girl: "She's dead..? How'd she die?"
Mom: "You were just watching this.."
The Girl: "But how did she die?"
Me: "A stroke! The woman just said!"
The Girl: "What's a stroke?"
The Boy: "Duh! It's a big bird with a long beak and it can peck you!"
Me: "That's a stork!"
The Boy: ".....oh.."
Mom: "Hee! I was wondering what he was going on about.."
The Boy: "What's a stroke? It's not a bird?"
Me: "Not a bird.."
The Boy: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Very!"

I don't think he'll become a doctor..

If I could be...

I got tagged by Michelle, so here goes..

The Rules: The idea is to pick 5 and complete the sentences,then pass this little meme on to 3 more of your blog pals! But no tag backs!

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous blogger…
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…

Still with me? Good. Now here's where I do my thing..

If I could be a scientist... I'd have a lab like Frankenstein's; all bubbly beakers and Tesla coils.
If I could be a musician... I'd be able to sing and play an instrument. Maybe. I totally have the rock star poses down.
If I could be a gardener... Then maybe my bamboo plant would've survived. They say they're virtually indestructible. Not so.
If I could be a llama-rider... I'd tell everyone that I was a llama-rider just to see their reaction.
If I could be a bonnie pirate... I'd be careful with the eye patch. Depth perception, you know..

And now for the tagging..

I'll tag Edana, Rory, and Ms.Q. Let me know in the comments when you get done!

Unexpected Reprieve

Yesterday:

Mom: "You know what I was thinking? I'll sneak out of work early in the day tomorrow..."
Me: Thinking, "Did she just say she'd sneak out of work early..? Oooh.. Shopping?"
Mom: "...and I'll take you to renew your driver's license!"
Me: "You really were a geek in high school, weren't you?"
Mom: "...yeah."
Me: "Yeah.."
Mom: "But I was going to take you to the nice one so you don't have to wait 6 hours this time."
Me: "Almost as good as a sale."
Mom: "What?"

Today:

Me: "Why do we keep getting directions from mapquest when they always take us the long ass way everywhere?"
Mom: "I know. I'm sure we just circled around here."

A bit later..

Me: "D'oh! I totally know this street. I knew I recognized the name! We could've just gone through two towns instead of about fifty.."
Mom: "You know this area..?"
Me: "Yeah. You do, too."
Mom: "I do?"
Me: "Yes, you do."
Mom: "Ok.."

And even later...

Mom: "Wow! That didn't take long, did it?"
Me: "The longest part was getting here. I look somewhat psychotic in this picture.."
Mom: "At least your face isn't all skewed like the last time. And you have color!"
Me: "The whole thing is color.. It's like Monopoly money on a license. The guy? He took my picture and asked if it was ok."
Mom: "You're kidding!"
Me: "I swear! I'm so coming back to this one next time. I think they have a Most Unflattering Picture contest at the other DMV."
Mom: "They gave you warning and everything?"
Me: "Yeah, and I didn't even do my hair.. I thought, 'What's the use?'"
Mom: "I'm getting my license here."
Me: "I didn't even get insulted. Not once.."
Mom: "I'm so coming back here.."

Better late than never...

Corgan requested this desktop long ago. I've only just gotten around to doing it.

Christina Ricci

Now let's see how long it takes him to notice it..

Grr..

We here at Strange Things-- ok, it's just me here-- are suffering from what we call..

Technical Difficulties

Photobucket is being truly evil today. I'll post after it straightens itself out.

Intrigue! Horror!

Yesterday..

Me: Is it just me or do you find the whole Katie Holmes/Tom Cruise pairing disturbing and awkward?
J: ...
J: no way
Me: You haven't seen them?! They're everywhere!!
J: i've been in meetings!
Me: Watching them kiss is about as exciting as licking the sidewalk.

And today...

Me: You wanna see something scary?
J: how scary?
Me: Very scary.
J: ewwww!!!!!
J: he gave her the herpes.
Me: I freaked.
J: so scary...did she know those were there?
J: did she?!?!
Me: How could she miss them?!
J: i think they were photoshopped.
Me: If your face cracked and oozed wouldn't you notice?
Me: Did you see the up close shot?!
J: i did...but it could have been photoshopped.
Me: No way. He herped Joey.
J: ew!!! it's herpes, dawson...the HERPES!
Me: That one sore is bigger than Van Der Beek's head.
Me: Why do I always want to call him Beeker?

Odd Happenings

I planted a bleeding heart plant in our yard years ago. I watered and waited. It never grew.

I figured any number of things could've kept it from growing. Temperature, soil, maybe I bought a bum plant. Every year I'd go to that corner of the year in hopes of seeing my plant grow. Mom pointed out a sprout and said that it must be it. The sprout never grew, so I doubted her.

I went back again this year to look. There it was. Small, but growing. Little pink hearts. Hot pink. My daughter's favorite color. I giggled and clapped like a giddy child and called everyone over to look at it. The kids didn't see the big deal. It was just a plant. The Girl noted that the hearts were her favorite color and went to do something more interesting. My mom said, "See? It was growing this whole time. It was just slow."

On my way back inside, I passed our dwarf orange tree. It had been blooming and everytime I walked past it, I bent down to sniff its blossoms. This time, I noticed that something else was growing, too. I saw little tiny oranges starting to pop out. This was another first.

Once again, I dragged everyone over to marvel at our orange plant. The kids didn't know what the heck they were supposed to be looking at and why I kept dragging them away from fun stuff to look at boring old plants. Mom was as excited as I was about the little oranges. I turned to her and said, "Looks like this is the year for growth, huh?" and she said, "You're not kidding! In more ways than one.."

***

Last night, after we cleaned up the dinner dishes, mom noted that she'd saved aside the wishbone from the roasted chicken we'd had the night before. She wasn't sure if we should give it to the kids or not. I voted not because both were horribly competitive and were prone to fits upon "losing".

I suggested that we have a go at it. We locked out pinkies around the bone, I squeezed my eyes shut, made a wish and pulled. I heard a snap and opened my eyes in time to see the top of the wishbone pop clean off and land on the floor. I looked over to see my mother's stunned expression and we both looked at our pinkies, each still gripping part of the wishbone.

"What did you wish for?" mom asked. I told her and asked about her wish. It had been the same as mine. We both laughed over this and then mom said, "That was a pretty big eff you from the universe, wasn't it?"

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

The Good:

• Louis XIV's The Best Little Secrets Are Kept- Neo Glam at its best. Rockin', ribald, roguish fun. Totally addictive. Definitely not for the kiddies. Highlights: "Finding Out True Love is Blind" and "Illegal Tender"
• What Einstein Told His Cook: Kitchen Science Explained by Robert L. Wolke- If you're a science geek and a food geek like me, you'll love this book. It talks about the science behind food and has recipes, too!
• M.I.A.'s Arular- Ok, how to describe this? Think cheerleaders, drumlines, dance hall music with a splash of electronica and you've got this album. It's really, really good.
• Hogfather by Terry Pratchett- A favorite of mine that I'm reading for the fifty millionth time. A hilariously funny dark comedy.

The Bad:

• My aching muscles. Damn you, weeds! Damn you to hell!
  
• Studying. Boring.
  
• I currently have the attention span of a gnat on speed.
• So do my kids. And they're whiney.

The Ugly:

• Saw some bitchy girls-- backstabbing wenches-- I knew way back when over the weekend. Noted large, plain clothing they wore to hide the massive amount of weight they gained-- karma in action-- after having one child. Was very pleased about this. I'm sure they saw me smirking as I walked by because they began their heated whispering-- flashback to high school.
  

Thoughts

• It is some unknown holiday or something? We didn't get mail today.
  
• Why does it disturb me so much that we didn't get mail today? I can't stop haunting the mailbox.
• Weeding the garden + walking a lot + lifting weights = a very sore, whimpery R.
• I never knew that the words "Hey, mom. You did remember to bake something for my birthday party at school, right?" could strike so much fear in a grown woman's heart.
• Particularly when it's uttered at 9:30 PM on Sunday night.
• And I have no ingredients to bake anything.
• More supermarkets should be open at least until midnight.
• My kids are probably the only kids in the world who can tell the difference between homemade brownies and the box kind. Did I let that stop me? No.
• Ditto on the canned frosting.
• Staying up until 1 AM baking and frosting brownies while watching Sixteen Candles seems like a lot more fun than it really is.
• Jake Ryan is still yummy.
• Still no mail. Why?!
• Why does staying up late make me feel hungover? Am I that old? Don't answer that!
• The picture of that guy on J's blog makes me giggle.
  
• I need a nap.

Birthday Boy

The Birthday Breakfast Extravaganza was a success because:

1. This french toast recipe is the best.


2. And I made my killer strawberry sauce recipe.

There were many yummy noises being made. The strawberry sauce is unbelievably simple to make too!

For every cup of fresh sliced strawberries, use 1 tablespoon strawberry jam-- other berry flavors work just as well so experiment-- and 1 tablespoon sugar. Heat it all up until sugar and jam melt and strawberries soften slightly, about 5-10 minutes. Serve over ice cream, cakes, waffles, pancakes, whatever!

The Boy was happy to receive his presents and took off. He spent some quality time with his Game Boy until I wrenched him away and made him play outside. Unfortunately, we couldn't do the birthday party thing this year. Not with the way things have been at home. But he's quite happy to be getting Burger King for dinner and an ice cream cake for dessert. Both his choice.

I went ahead and ordered Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (2-disc Special Collector's Edition)-- try saying that five times fast-- since it was so cheap over at amazon. While there, I also ordered a yoga book for the girl. She's become very gung ho and addicted to it. I think she'll be happy with it. I wish I'd ordered it sooner so it could be here for today. When you have two kids, you always need to get something for the other even thought it's not their birthday. Jealousy. I bought her a little trinket, but it didn't seem like enough. Not compared to all of what he got. I can only hope it comes soon.

Now off I go! More birthday celebrating must be done!