Pal Criteria

My pal Duchess Jane is putting together a recipe for her ideal man. Reading some of her criteria, I realized I would not qualify (inability to produce sperm and the fact I am already spoken for aside). This made me think, what my criteria to be one of my pals are. Now let me explain, I have MANY friends and acquaintances. To be a pal, is a step above for me. Those you can count on through thick and thin. Here is what I have so far:

1. You must be a conversationalist. If you were to ask me what I prefer to do on a typical Saturday evening, it would be good dinner and stimulating dialogue with friends.
2. While it is not required you have your own children, you must like children (specifically mine). For years Jeff and I rarely brought our kids to “friend functions” because we were the only ones who had any. Now that most of our close circle of friends has kids, more of our gatherings are kid appropriate and I love it.
3. One of my biggest pet peeves is those who just don’t show up. Late I can handle, but not calling, emailing, etc. to inform someone you can’t make it (unless of course half your brother’s face is torn off or something similar) simply bothers me. It’s inconsiderate and makes me come up with weird scenarios of my friends hidden in a ditch where no one can help then after their harrowing car crash. I’m a worrier.
4. You must be willing to tell me when I any of the following occur:
   o I have a booger in my nose or something in my teeth
   o My choice of clothing makes me look fatter than I am
   o I look ridiculous in my light blue eyeshadow and/or sparkly lip gloss
   o I am too drunk to realize I am being obnoxious and too blunt (spoken from experience).
   o I need to relax and not be such a clean freak
   o I’m sure I will be adding to this list as the day goes on.
5. I promise to respect any ideals or morals you have that differ from me as long as you respect mine (and allow me to try to persuade you to the dark side).
6. If a life altering event occurs and I need a shoulder to cry on or someone to rant to, my good pals would make themselves available.
7. If a table of young girls is giggling at us, you are willing to lift your leg and rip a loud horrendous fart in their direction. See Bombadee post.
8. You are not embarrassed to talk openly about sex. Jenny fits this one nicely.
9. You enjoy a cocktail now and again, but are not someone who likes to be blind drunk at all social occasions.

I’m sure as the day goes on, I will be adding to my list. Feel free to offer any additions or changes.

Thanksgiving Weekend Update

Thursday - aka "Thanksgiving":

Dinner at my mother in-laws house. Predictable day.

• 12:30 p.m. = arrive
• 12:35-1:35 p.m. = look through sale paper, make lists of what Jeff, the kids and I want
• 1:35-2:00 p.m. = carry all the food to the basement where a large table was set up (mother in-law prepared ALL food, I learned years ago this is what she prefers)
• 2:00-2:45 p.m. = Eat. Very little talking, mostly comments on how good food is.
• 2:45-3:00 p.m. = Carry all dishes and food back upstairs
• 3:00-3:45 p.m. = While the "men" carry up Christmas boxes, rearrange living room furniture and put up tree, I clean all of the meat off the turkey carcus while mother and sister-in-law begin dishes. I join dish duty when poultry is properly pulled into pieces and bagged neatly in Ziploc's.
• 3:45-4:00 = Mother-in-law reviews holiday list ideas, marks which items she plans on buying and hands back to us.
• 4:00 p.m. = Depart for home.

Back in Oregon, we stop at my parents house and visit for awhile before heading home.

Black Friday:

Jeff is working at the tree farm all day so the kids and I take my sister to Rockford dropping off her laptop to be fixed. Schweaty Man is going to look at it for her. She mentions to me after we drop it off how she hopes he won't be able to find certain pics her that her roommates took saved on the harddrive. My stomach turns at the idea of someone oogling at naughty pics of my kid sis and I suddenly realize all of my "Girls Gone Wild" lectures have fallen on deaf ears.

Stephie and I get a call on the cell phone. My parents have found her a new puppy for only $350 (ugh!).I will admit she is very cute, and neatly fits in the palm of your hand. Only three weeks old so Steph will have to wait until 12/17 to actually take her home. She has named her Delilah...she will be Samson's girlfriend (the current dog). We then enjoyed lunch at Beef-A-Roo with the parental units.

On the way home, we had a light bulb moment. With my parents moving (or not) all depending on if their house sale goes through, we figured they would not bother with a tree. Steph and I went to the tree farm, got them a tree, took it home, put it up and decorated it before they got home. Yeah...we're going for daughters of the year.

My evening was spent going to the grocery store to prepare for the Byrd Family Thanksgiving on Saturday.

Saturday:

Jeff is working at the tree farm from 8 to noon, so I am stuck getting the kids and all of our food ready for the party so we can leave when he gets home. I somehow manage to throw together three dishes, get myself and the three kids showered and ready all while Stephie is doing homework on my PC and my Mom is making pumpkin pies in my kitchen because her stove sucks. We arrive at Uncle Bob's around 1:00 and enjoy a typical Byrd family day.

As I am about to leave Bob's for Rockford (the Casseroles were meeting at ShoGun), my step-dad runs in the house and yells "we need help, Brett is hurt". Brett is my soon-to-be 38 year old brother. The short version is this: he and Aunt Tami were riding the ATV in the pitch dark woods. ATV can't make it up hill, flips over, Tami falls off, Brett and bike flip twice. ATV lands directly on Brett's face. Brett's face = bad. Broken nose, bottom lip and chin torn and hanging off of his face, all cheek tissue torn from gum tissue inside mouth, all nasal tissue torn inside of nose. Ambulance picks him up and he spends night in hospital. I miss my Casserole meeting. Evening pretty much sucks.

Sunday:

Jeff is working all day at tree farm. Get kids and myself ready for the day. Abi had a slumber/birthday party the night before so I get her at 10am, update her on Uncle Brett and find out she was up until 3am. This should fit in with the rest of the day nicely (sarcasm). Pick up Mom at 10:45 to head to Rockford. SugarLips was dropped off at the other Grandma N's house so Abi, Emi and I could have lunch and a play with Grandma T and Great Aunt Terrie. We enjoy a nice lunch at Stockholm Inn and tell tales of my brothers new face and listen to the girls update Terrie on band, girl scouts, friends, school, basketball and everything in between. We then take in Alice in Wonderland at New American Theatre. It was FABULOUS! An old high school friend was the Cheshire Cat and I was glad to see he recognized me and we quickly caught up when the play was over. As mom and I are heading back home, she suddenly blurts out "we forgot Isaac". We drive back to the city to pick up my son, none the wiser to fact he was forgotten.

After arriving back in "our town", the kids are left with Grandma T and Papa so Jeff and can go and put our dwindled down gift list on layaway. This takes us several hours and by the time we are done, I'm exhausted. $450 worth selected and purchased, about $200 worth not found. This is pretty conservative compared to our normal $1000-$1200 budget. We may make it through the entire holiday season with a single use of credit cards.

This causes me to exclaim: "Hallelujah"

Sorry if this post is long, full of spelling errors and rambling...I am drinking Zima XXX Hard Green Apple. I sure it has way too many calories, but I not sure I care right now.

Lunchtable Comment

Earnhardt Jr. Fan (hearing strange slurping sounds): "Jennifer, are you making love to your jello?"

If the jello could only be so lucky.

After Lunch Discussion

Nuns are "married" to God. Does this make God a polygamist?

Too Much Information?

The discussion at lunch today somehow ventured into this odd sharing of strange, drunken things we did in our early twenties. Grammy Pammy shared how they used to tube down the Kish, push eachother around in grocery carts and hop the fence to swim in the neighbor’s pool. Schweaty Man admitted how he unknowingly went to a nude beach in Europe and had to lay on his stomach until an 80 year old woman walked by giving the opportunity to run into the ocean.

I shared some stories, like; skinny dipping in Sugar River, getting the munchies and eating an entire Ambrosia Silk pie with two friends while climbed inside the Kish overpass on Perryville…you know, pretty harmless stuff that shouldn’t get people whispering about me around the water cooler. I must say, however, that Grammy Pammy quickly picked up on mention of “munchies”. I have a feeling she has had many cases of this side-effect herself.

Now, as I sit at my desk, I wonder if their opinion of me would change if they new some of the juicy stuff. Green Bean knows some of it (due to her own participation). My pal Jane is beginning to hear some old stories of naked parties and kissing contests (~sigh, Bob~). Sweet Potato and I have so many stories of high flight its ridiculous. One thing I may have going for me is the fact I had friends in different circles, all of whom I did certain activities with pretty exclusively. No one person knows it all, not even my beloved husband (thank goodness).

I think I like it this way. To quote an email I received this morning: “the idea of people from my real life knowing (too much) totally creeps me out.”

If you have a crazy story to share, post it here…I won’t tell anyone.

Some Random Quotes of the Day

Grammy Pammy: “Jennifer, your problem is you suffer from common sense”

Sparky (on phone with a computer user): “The password requires a minimum of five characters…..no, it can’t be four…..yes, it’s a minimum of five….uh-huh, it can be six…...it just has to be at least five….turn on your Num Lock key…..it say’s Num Lock on it…..N-U-M L-O-C-K…..”

Sparky (after hanging up with above caller): “I hate people”

Schweaty Man: “I’ve never had one that hard before…honestly”

Are Men Necessary?: Part I

CNN.com had an article this morning that caught my eye: Are Men Necessary?

Let’s dialogue this one, shall we? In a day and age when women can provide for themselves financially, use sperm donors to have children, negotiate price on a new car, have thought provoking conversations Saturday evenings out on the town with their girlfriends, pull out the ever faithful wabbit when in the mood, change a tire and use power tools (insert wabbit joke here) what are men for? Will they become “ornamental” as the author of this book predicts?

Even my man, whom I adore, can annoy the hell out of me. He burps, farts, scratches, stinks (sometimes), considers football a religion, becomes an imbecile around certain friends, thinks “hey baby, let’s do it” is a form of seduction, doesn’t understand why he can’t wear dirty jeans and a stained t-shirt to family functions and would love to have a huge steak and two beers for dinner every night of his life.

Could I live without him? Yes. Do I want to?

Do any of us?

Ice Hogs for Jane

My good pal Jane has a new obsession named Jason Notermann. He looks pretty hot.

The Real Reason I Chose To Stop Having Children

Inspired by Bombadee, I will share the following:

Growing up, one of the most important female figures in my life was my Grandma Byrd. I spent two weeks every summer with her, all family holidays were celebrated at her home. Since my childhood was marred by the drama of divorce, remarriage and constant moves, Grandma Byrd's was home to me. When I was pregnant with my first child, Grandma knew and celebrated with me. She was fighting ovarian cancer at the time, but she LOVED babies and looked forward to her first great-grand child. Sadly, I miscarried. She shared my heartbreak. Weeks later Grandma took a turn for the worse. She was no longer coherent and we waited for her to pass peacefully. I discovered, much to my shock, I was pregnant again. Grandma died before I could knowingly share my good news with her. At her funeral there were big, beautiful flower arrangements next to her casket. One stated "Mother", another "Wife", yet another had "Grandmother" on large yellow ribbon across it. Tucked in her hands was a flower with the words "Great Grandma" on the ribbon. Her name was Louise. My name is Jennifer Louise; my first daughter (born seven months after her death) is Abigail Louise.

Less than two years later, I found out I was pregnant with my second daughter. Grandpa Byrd, who was simply put…a grouchy old man, became ill. I was seven months pregnant at his funeral. His name was Everett Emerson, but everyone called him "Emmy". My daughter was named Emily Anne. We call her Emi. I often have thought her grouchiness was a curse from her namesake.

Many years later, the family had adjusted to life without Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. Jeff and I were excited (and very surprised) to learn I was pregnant with our third child. Looking back, I had the creepiest conversation in my entire life shortly thereafter. Jeff and I discussed jokingly how this time we would have to come with an original name. Everyone in the family is young and healthy...no one will die giving us a name to use. My beloved Uncle David, who took me to Sunday School every week when I was little and taught me to wear a seatbelt, was a healthy and strong man looking forward to his 50th birthday. One day he had a headache that wouldn't go away and went to the doctor. They found a brain tumor, he died 19 days later. I was 16 weeks pregnant at his funeral. My son's name is Isaac David.

Each of my pregnancies, all unplanned, has been scarred by the death of someone in my family. Please note that no others deaths have occurred in my family in the past 32 years.

Coincidence?

Thank You Casseroles

I would like to publicy thank The Casseroles for providing me with a vaild reason to buy a new top each month.

Who's That Cute Girl?

There’s a picture on my desk at work of my husband and I from high school. Yes, I married my high school sweetheart, went to prom with the guy I’m married to, yadda, yadda, yadda. Moving on. We are maybe seventeen at the time, dressed up for the Madrigal Dinner I performed in each year. Basically, I’m decked out with the hair and make-up, fancy costume; you’ll even see that Jeff bought me roses (he was a great boyfriend and is an awesome husband).

JB, one of the network engineers in my department, walks up to my desk smiling. He points at the picture and asks “who’s that cute girl?” I’m not quite sure how to take this.

Should I be:

• Flattered: “That’s me, thanks”
• Perplexed: “Who in the hell do you think it is?”
• Offended: “Are you saying you can’t tell that’s me?”
• Hurt: “What are you saying I’m not cute anymore?”
• Dishonest: “It’s my kid sister. Isn’t she beautiful?”
• Dismissive: “Oh, it’s just an old picture from high school”
• Funny: (patting stomach) “Yep…this is what happens after three kids”
• Sarcastic: “Don’t worry about it, she’s out of your league”
• Angry: “It’s me asshole and you know it.”

I usually pretty quick with any one of these comebacks but was like a deer in headlights on this one. I just sheepishly smiled and he moved on. As many of you know, I have another blog, Jennie’s Journey, dedicated my weight loss. The first line, indicates “This blog will chronicle my endeavor to become on the outside what I feel on the inside.”

This is what I feel on the inside, this picture. I see in this picture young and happy. Creative and talented. Thin and beautiful. Confident. Special. In love. Anyone who doesn’t see these things in me now can kiss my size 20 ass. I am young and happy and talented and creative and beautiful and confident and special and in love. Thin will come.

Lessons in Silly?

I'm cleaning out my network drive here at work when I come across a poem I penned several years ago for a friends baby shower. She was a first time mom, so my gift was what I consider to be required reading for all parents and children: Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. I had written this poem in the front cover, because I have a firm belief you should never give a book as a gift without writing something personal in the cover. Aren't those the best books to find in a resale shop; a great, old novel or book of poetry with "To Ruth, All my love forever, Harold" scribed in the cover. I just love that! Sorry, back on track here. This is my still untitled poem...I hope you enjoy.

Moms and dads begin to teach
Their children as they grow
The ABC’s and 123’s…
Important stuff to know

Cover your mouth, don’t pick your nose
The magic of Thank You and Please
And always, always say gesundheit
If you overhear a sneeze

Body noises can be accepted
Embarrassment is easily darted
It does take time however to teach
Say “excuse me” without, “I farted”

I shared these lessons of etiquette
As my girls began to grow
Then one fine day I realized
There was more I felt they should know

Like spinning fast will make you dizzy
You can blow bubbles out of your nose
Imaginary friends are grand
And so are dress-up clothes

Spitting is a form of art
So is belching the alphabet
My girls are working hard on both
But have mastered neither yet

Serve dinner one night with no silverware
And don’t have pizza, that’s too easy
Think of their faces when you give them a bowl
Of macaroni, extra cheesy

Some days we will pretend we’re monkeys
On others we’ll put on a skit
Armpit farts and nostril flares
Are lessons you will never forget

My hope for my girls is happiness, joy
To be strong and a little bit frilly
And to grow up in a loving home
Where value is put on silly

Croup: The Univited Guest

Over the weekend, a seal moved into my house, uninvited. His barks are so loud and hollow you find yourself making that pained, pitiful facial expression and saying a quiet “damn” under your breath whenever you hear them. The rattles from his little chest as he breathes worries you at night as the unrelenting barks become more frequent. Just this once, I tell myself, it is all right for my little seal to crawl into bed with mommy so she can be sure you continue to take in the air your little body needs…so when you wake from the nasty barking, I can stroke your hair and tell you it’s going to be okay.

I do some Internet searching on my Mr. Lips condition today and see the following items listed as signs of “When to Call the Doctor”.

• Your child starts drooling or has trouble swallowing.
• Your child's lips and skin are bluish or turn dark.
• Your child's breathing doesn't sound better after mist treatment.
• Your child is cranky or is constantly uncomfortable.
• Your child's breathing becomes more difficult.
• Your child seems to feel worse.
• You are worried.

Call me crazy, but bullet #2…are they kidding? If my son’s lips and/or skin turn blue I’m not sure I will call the doctor’s office and sit in queue with the rest of the mommies wanting appointments. Shouldn’t there be another section called, “If You Are a Moron and Don’t Know When to Call 911, Here Are Some Signs”.

SLAM!

Earnhardt Jr. Fan: "You know...there's a time and a place for you Jennifer...and it's not here or now."

Whadda Ya Mean Snot Funny?

At work yesterday we had an office supply company hocking all their crap and giving away oodles of free items, which I gleefully loaded up on. Pens, folders, sticky notes, purple blinking paper stand, neon colored rubberbands (new ammo for the Rubberband Wars), etc.

So I’m taking my new collection of salmon colored, lined post-its off of the promotion cards they came on and they’re attached with that weird, gummy, sticky goober substance. For some reason, I get around this kind of stuff and suddenly I turn into that annoying nine year-old trying to get anyone and everyone to “look at me, look at me”.

Of course, you’ve got to admit…boogers and snot jokes never go out of style.

People...People Who Need People

TaterTot: (singing) People...people who need people...are the luckiest people...

Suddenly the Tater notices Schweaty Man looking at her either perplexed, disgusted or a little of both.

TaterTot: You don't know this song? It's Barbra Streisand's famous tune People.
Schweaty Man: No.
TaterTot: Not a Barbra Streisand fan, huh?
Schweaty Man: No, I'm not gay.
TaterTot: I'm not gay and I'm a fan.
Schweaty Man: I'm not a woman either.

Journey Straight To Hell

The Boss’s Boss pushed a screensaver on my department this week that has pics of the White Sox, World Series, blah blah blah. For some reason he looped it with the Journey song, Don’t Stop Believin’. Imagine this, if you will. I sit in a room with many PC’s, all in various stages of use. It can almost be guaranteed that at any given point I am listening to this song…all day, everyday...on a loop.

My questions are these: What in the hell do any of these lyrics have to do with the White Sox winning the World Series? Are the White Sox from south Detroit? Is the small town girl taking the midnight train to a baseball game? Smell of wine and sweet perfume a common aroma in sport arenas? And what the fuck are streetlight people, anyway?

Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere

A singer in a smokey room
A smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice, just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Don't stop believin'
Hold on to the feelin'
Streetlight people

Rubberband Wars

Bring it on Schweaty Man. I will bring you to your knees in defeat. I will make cry like a little girl and beg me to stop. I will squash you like a tiny bug. I will kill you dead. Do not underestimate my power. My resources are limitless, my resolve steadfast.

I have declared the Rubberband Wars.

Movies: Open Invitation

I love movies, but for some reason I rarely go the theater. The last movie I saw on the big screen was Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. I’ve always thought it was because I’m cheap, but when I look at other things I spend money on that can’t possibly be the reason. I think it’s just the logistics of going. If Jeff and I go together we have to find a sitter and if that sitter comes with a price tag our movie night just doubled in cost. I haven’t historically called friends for movie dates simply because if I’m going to spend time with my friends why would I want to sit in a movie theater with them? Also, I have to drive to another town for a cinema and getting me out the house isn’t as easy as one may think. Plus we shouldn’t discount the price. The price of a ticket, popcorn and soda will run you $12-$15 on average. Yes, you could forego the popcorn but for me that would be like pancakes without syrup, marriage without sex, Captain without Tennille…what’s the point?

So I am going to try something new. Below is a list of movies hitting the theaters in the months to come that have peaked my curiosity, however I am not limited to these choices. If any of my friends are interested in accompanying either me or Jeff and me, let me know; it’s an open invitation. I will say we would need to plan time following the film for coffee and discussion, two more of my favorite things. My girls are stoked to see the new Harry Potter movie – can’t wait for that one.

Derailed Opens Friday, November 11, 2005
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire Opens Friday, November 18, 2005
Walk The Line Opens Friday, November 18, 2005
Memoirs of a Geisha Opens Friday, December 9, 2005
King Kong Opens Wednesday, December 14, 2005
New World Opens Friday, January 13, 2006
DaVinci Code Opens Friday, May 19, 2006
X-Men 3 Opens Friday, May 26, 2006
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Mans Chest Opens Friday, July 7, 2006

Disclaimer: Please remember that most movies that would fall under the category chick-flick, i.e. Just Like Heaven, In Her Shoes, would not normally qualify as worthy of my time or money. This will avoid the uncomfortable situation of me having to come up with an excuse not to go if I were invited. I’m not trying to be a film snob; it’s just my personal taste.