Goodbye 2007

Another year just flew by. Like a bottle of fine champagne, I savored every bit…but I can’t say I sipped it…nope, just drank it all down and loved every minute. That’s how fast a year can go...

So what are you doing for New Years? That’s always the question. Then there’s the pressure…to host a good party, find a good party, or better yet, crash a good party. For years now we haven’t planned ahead for New Years Eve…you see… it's all about the kids. What are the kid’s plans? Do their plans include 45 underage kids, our house, and our beer? So being the responsible parents that we claim to be, we have to keep an eye out for what could happen…back at the ranch. So we play the wait game.

The wait game is simple…kids vs parents. Who can wait the longest without making a plan? The only problem is the kids are the masters of this game. We really have no hope of winning. If you zig first…they will definitely zag. When we ask, “What’s the plan?” We get, “Chill…I’m working on one. Probably a party in someone’s basement.” Then we are left wondering… “hmm, is that code for…rager in our basement.

The only comforting thing about the wait game is …our friends are playing the same game with their kids. New Years Eve is today and 2008 is coming in a matter of hours. The kid’s plans are still fluid…kind of like beer flowing from a keg through a funnel…wait…that is exactly what we are afraid of…

Happy New Year to my wonderful family and friends. Have a gr8 2008. Peace OUT

Can I eat my cake too?

It is tough when your two favorite teams play each other….just ask PaulA. I knew it was going to be a football dilemma for him when the Patriots and the Giants played last night. Who is PaulA gonna root for? Making that decision is like trying to decide who you like more…Kid A or Kid B…you have to pick one. Okay, that may be a little extreme. Or for me, it would be like…do I want chocolate mousse or chocolate truffle with my chocolate ice cream? See, it is this kind of dilemma you face when you have to choose between your two favorites.

So for the big game, PaulA had to choose one over the other…and he chose the Patriots. His first inclination is to root for the Patriots especially with their record breaking season, but then they were playing the Giants…the New York Giants. Eli hasn’t exactly been playing that great so you can’t help rooting for the kid…hoping Eli can look like a real quarterback…like his big brother. It is hard not to root for the team that you have been pulling for week after week…cheering them on…yelling at the TV screen. I would hear PaulA pulling for those Giants as he roped me into sitting next to him on the couch for the past umpteen weeks…assume the Sunday sitting position…6 or more hours on the brown leather couch. By the end of Sunday night, our butts would have a brown leather burn.

So last night PaulA had a huge helping of cake and got to eat it too. The Patriots won and broke lots of records along with Tom Brady and that Moss character. Plus the Giants played a great game. They rose above bumbling boob status and actually looked like contenders with a quarterback that could make plays. No major injuries. And both teams look good going into the play-offs.

So I was wondering PaulA …do you have an extra fork for that cake? After all, it was me sitting next to you getting the leather burn for all those weeks…..

Edit Thyself

“Ruh-roh” (meant to be read out loud in your best Scooby voice.) I am in trouble now… a few friends heard that I am writing a blog. Now there will be no question about what a strange Kat I really am…the proof will be right there in blog black and white. Will knowing that I have some friends reading my blog effect how I write? Will I try to edit myself to sound like I’m a normal blogwriting housewife? Does a normal blogwriting housewife even exist or is that what they call…a foxymoron? Or is that an oxymoron?

Yep, my friends are probably thinking (sometimes I can read minds)…Kat has too much time on her hands. Shouldn’t she be doing something worthwhile? But then they realize…aha, a blog might just be perfect for her. After all, she has no skills….bless her heart.

So here I sit, hoping to write the next greatest blog…and I’m thinking…what should I write about? Will critical, over-thinking send me into blog bloc?? What would my friends find interesting? Let’s see…

Okay, probably not the story about the time when Col was little and went pee pee in a convenient soda bottle in the backseat of the van...oh, so embarrassing. (Did I say that out loud? Sorry Colinboy!) Oh, and probably not the story about the time when our Christmas tree fell off our van and PaulA had to fight the traffic to rescue it ….too dumb and oh so, boringly been there-done that. And definitely not the story about a homeless child who didn’t eat for 12 days and was fed by a She-wolf…too ridiculous and oh so, not true.

Nope, I have to be true to myself and not let the thought of my friends influence my blog. I have to let Kat be Kat and write …the ridiculously, foxymoronic, absurd…that just comes to mind…naturally.
Catch ya on the blogspot!

Mannequin attack

Okay, I have reached a new low. While shopping, I attacked a mannequin. It just started so innocently…I am in the Gap at the Taj MaMall and I spy this little tank top on a mannequin that would be perfect with something I already bought (shhh… it’s a secret.) I look through the rack for “size S”…darn, no smalls. I am not giving up…

I decide to check the size on the half mannequin girl (her bottom half is probably in GAP pants) SaWeet, she’s wearing a “size S.” Hmmm…What to do? I have to get the tank top off her…right here and now, while no one is looking. Heck, mannequin girl won’t miss it…she’s not going anywhere. It won’t be that difficult.

In order to get to the tank top, I have to first pull off the sweatshirt she’s wearing. So I stand on my tippy toes reaching ‘cause they have mannequin girl high on a shelf…I pull the sweatshirt down one arm and then down the other arm…not so easy. Then I struggle to get the sweatshirt over her hands which are together in some ridiculous pose behind her. Okay, step one accomplished. No one noticed me maul mannequin girl. That was harder than I thought it would be….

Now for the tank top…this should be easier…wrong! I pull one strap down, then the other strap down, and manage to get it over those darn hands. Then it’s impossible to slide the tank top off the bottom ‘cause they have her attached to a big stand. Now I have to pull it back up her arms and over her head…and I can hardly reach the darn thing. So I look around (nope, no one is looking)…

I take Miss Mannequin down and put her on the floor. I start pulling and yanking on the tank top and then she falls over. I am in a full out wrestle with the mannequin. (She seems to be taking all this personally.) I can’t get the tank top over her head.

Bingo…new idea…I take another look around (gee, still nobody looking.) I decide that I have to take mannequin girl off the stand, so I can slip the tank top off from the bottom. With all my might on 1, 2, 3… I pull her body off the stand with both my hands and my feet. Yaaaaa…she’s free… now I am free…to take the tank top. Mission Accomplished.

Now the poor girl is exposed. I throw a sweatshirt at mannequin girl… “OMG, you’re indecent…cover yourself up!”

Taj MaMall Driven

I was driving down the road today on my way to the Taj MaMall, (yes, again…Okay, I still have crap to buy) listening to a little holiday music and getting in the spirit. Fa la la la laa….that kind of stuff. When all of a sudden, my car is blasted with ice chunks and snow. It seems the knucklehead in front of me, in a big ass Denali, didn’t properly clean off his car. As he whizzes down the road, all his crap is landing onto my windshield. Yikes…first I jump, ‘cause the ice hits hard and loud and then I react by jerking the steering wheel to avoid more chunks. So I speed up to get beside the Numbskull and I mouth to the driver…Read My Lips….Clean off your car! Blank stare comes back….duh…you gotta a problem lady? Then OMG, the exact same thing happens again, but this time with a big ass Cadillac Escalade…different driver….same crap. What is going on?

Whew…sigh of relief. Those big asses better not mess with me. So I continue on my way to the Taj MaMall…I crank up the holiday tunes… “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you”….Wait, what is that? The car in front of me swerves to miss a 10 foot ladder in the lane…then, (being an expert driver, that I pretend to be) I swerve and miss the ladder too.

What is going on? I feel like I am actually in one of those bad video games where things pop up to get you before you reach the end….hmmmm….that’s it…obstacles are being thrown in my path to deter me from getting to the Taj MaMall…but it is gonna take more than a ladder and some ice chunks to keep me from my Taj MaMall…bring it on.

Beeper Santa

I was at the Taj MaMall today (yes, again) and saw that familiar sight this time of year…Santa in center court. There he was in all his glory…red suit, boots, beard and cap… “Santa, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still an old guy…and you still have that enormous beer belly.” Kids wait to sit on Santa’s lap and give him their laundry list of every toy they just have to have…until they have it! But something seems amiss…

Santa was there with little Johnny sitting on his lap…but…but… where was the huge line that would snake from Abercrombie to Sears and back around again? Are kids snubbing Santa ‘cause he didn’t come through last year…or do they visit a virtual Santa online and email their list…

Then I took a closer look and it all made sense…Santa’s elves were giving out beepers so you don’t have to stand in line with your little angels. Beepers! Oh, come on…now that just isn’t fair! I remember having to deal with fussing kids, kids running around, and the total chaos that went with the 2 hour wait in line…And just as we were inches from Santa’s lap hearing, “ I don’t want to see Santa now…can we go home?” “Oh honey, yes you do…Remember, you want to see Santa…you’ve asked to see him every minute since Thanksgiving and since we are here… you are going to talk to Santa, smile for the picture and love every single minute of it!”

So life just got a little easier when it comes to visiting St. Nick, you can grab the beeper, do some shopping, take your kids to the restroom for the tenth time in an hour, and even take a nap in the lounge area. But for some reason it just doesn’t seem right. I just feel like moms (and dads) are missing out…that their fun has been taken away…you know…the fun of misbehaving children, kids crying, threats to your kids…

The photo with Santa will definitely be different…now photos will be taken of children with happy faces, wearing hair bows that haven’t been ripped out, holiday outfits still intact…and no missing shoes or binkys. Now that just doesn’t seem fair to these parents…they are missing out on an important memory. But more importantly, why didn’t we think of that???

Power Shop

Shopping this time of year should be considered exercise. I went shopping today and I think I got a pretty good work out. It is so darn crowded that the only place to park is about a 2 mile walk from the mall. “Hey people, it’s only Macys…Are they giving stuff away in there?”

To get to the Taj Ma…Mall, you have to climb a couple snow banks, hop a few slush puddles, and sprint…it is so blasted cold, you definitely aren’t walking. Then when you actually get inside, it is hundreds of crazy people running into each other, bumping off one another… “Excuse me, pardon me, get out of my way”…

If you are actually finding stuff to get people on your list…you end up with a few packages. And after awhile, they add up and can get pretty darn heavy. You’ve got the coffee maker for Nana, the bathroom scale for Auntie Betty, the lump of coal for PaulA. So your dilemma is …Do you trek back to the car, over the puddles and snow banks and get rid of your packages? Or do you schlep the bags around? Okay, you probably do the latter…and carry everything around with you like a darn pack mule, which actually counts towards exercise. You start to feel the strain in your arms…What did Jane Fonda say back in the 80s?: Feel the burn, Baby. Your arm muscles are really burning now.

The ultimate work-out routine during the power shop is…if you have to actually fight someone. That last size XXXL waffled yarn long-sleeved shirt is just perfect for Uncle Stevo. The “enemy shopper” grabs one end of the shirt while you’ve got the other. So you smile and politely say, “Excuse me ma’am, but I had this item first.” Then she says, “I’m afraid not.” And then you step it up a notch… “I’m afraid so Biotch…so get your hands off!”…Okay, now you arm wrestle over it until you have to slam her to the floor and put her in a head lock.

I think I got a good workout with my power shop today…I know my credit card did.

Electric Love

We received a love letter from our electric company. They compared our usage for the past 6 months with the same period last year, and we had conserved energy! They are giving us the maximum (20 %) off some base rate of something….anyway, that is the most love you could hope to receive from a utility company.

So I got to thinking…turning a few things down, off, or out really does help! PaulA used to come home from work at night and wonder when the party started…every light in the house was on. I decided everyone looks better in low lighting…so why not turn a few off! I have “seen the light” and I am now a reformed Power hog.

I have appointed myself Power Gestapo and surveyed the situation. These are my findings:

Kat never turns the computer off …it is on 24/7. If you have me on your buddy list…it looks like I have actually become the computer because I am always on and connected to the internet, even when I’m at the mall….I mean cleaning house. So that sucker is getting shut down…when I sleep.

Christmas lights…I almost complained how it seemed like PaulA was taking a few shortcuts with the lights outside, but since I am a reformed Power hog, I realize “less is more.”…huh? In the fall we cut down two trees (they were overgrown, for all you tree huggers) and replaced them with smaller bushes. Now we only need a baby strand of lights instead of the usual tangled 45 …saved there.

Neighbors…different story…they go nutso with Christmas lights. They’ve got the entire roof outlined so Santa won’t forget them. I’m sure they have more lights than last year. I bet I would be really popular if I stopped by and said, “Excuse me…but ….you have TOO MANY LIGHTS…you have surpassed your quota for the season!” Isn’t that my job as self-appointed Power Gestapo?

Hmm…just noticed a glaring misuse of power …PaulA’s electric toothbrush…now, that’s got to go……

If we keep it up, the power company might send us another love letter.

Every Kiss Begins With Kay

I’ve read that the bathroom scale is the worst gift a man could give a woman…duh, do you really need to be told this? “Man, you are hurting if this is anywhere on your radar.” The second-to-worst gift….is an appliance (unless of course the guy can be stuffed into it.) If gift giving were up to Kay Jewelers, the perfect gift would be diamonds. After all, every kiss begins with Kay.

In the commercial, he surprises her with a diamond. She goes ga-ga over it… she reaches over, caresses his face and plants a big kiss. She now has a twinkle in her eye, replacing previous daggers …and you know what that means….she might be nice to him…at least for a week.

After receiving the shiny rock, she decides her boyfriend or husband isn’t so bad after all. Before he gave her the diamond…he was “okay” at best… but now, all of a sudden, he is lovable and actually kissable. She is madly and deeply consumed with emotion and can not contain her irresistible urge to give him a juicy kiss…smack on the kisser. Before the diamond...he was lucky to get a peck on the cheek.

Unfortunately men are led to believe that the only way to a woman’s kiss is with diamonds. These poor guys are made to feel that if they don’t get the woman in their life a diamond…they are a dud...a low-down, lousy, cheap, son-of-a-scoundrel. Men are made to feel that diamonds are the only thing that will get their woman’s attention and adoration.

Now, come on…please do not be fooled. We welcome emeralds, sapphires, rubies, pearls...

The Family Holiday Photo

Holiday dilemma…what to send for a Christmas card? Before we had kids, we sent pretty Hallmark cards…because we care to send the very best.

Then we had bambinos...in our case, Helamonsters. We were so happy and proud of our little wonders that we sent photos of them with Santa…wearing their holiday outfits and their Santa-phobia faces. Over the years, we were receiving the same kind of kid photos. We started asking ourselves… “Who are these kids anyway?” We decided we liked pictures of the entire family. Enter…the dreaded family photo.

Not so easy …to capture 3 antsy kids and 2 stressed out parents in a Norman Rockwell photograph. We needed someone to do the honors… so we’d ask either Auntie Areyousure, Uncle Pleasenotme or Stranger Whyme. Using an old box camera we would take a whole roll of film, and hope to high hopes, that one of those pictures was okay… “Nice job, but didn’t you see that little Colinboy had his finger up his nose?”

Then the kids grew to be big kids, and the Christmas photo card took on another dimension…it had to pass the Chels-test. “You can’t send that out…What if my friends see I have a crazy brother!”

Holiday picture time 2007… It is hard to get 5 people in the same place…usually one is MIA or one is still in bed. But alas, Jupiter aligned with Mars…we were all present…just missing someone to take the picture…

Idea… “Hey, let’s use the handy dandy timer on the new digital camera.” So we place everyone in position…balance the camera on a ladder…Take a look…Nope, need more height…add books…adjust ladder…rebalance. Then PaulA pushes the timer and scrambles around to get with us in the picture. Checks it… darn, need a retake…the wind was blowing. Checks it…shoot, need a retake…eyes are closed. Checks it…shucks, need a retake…the dog is taking a pee…

Whew...we are done. We dismantle the ladder and each take-off in different directions. Later we realize Colinboy has a funny expression in every photo…and I’m not talking funny-haha…and the dog appears bored with the whole production as he stares at his latest paw pedicure.

So when you get our family holiday photo…and see all of us smiling (okay maybe not Colinboy) realize the blood, sweat, and tears that went in to that picture…. because we care to send the very best.

Eyes On The Road

Okay, I got caught …..dancing today. Well, that would be dancing in my car. Doesn’t every one dance while driving? You’ve got the radio on and a really good song comes on, so you turn the sound way up. Next thing you know, you start tapping the steering wheel to the beat, then moving your head up and down. Then you do some serious head bobbing like one of those bobble head dolls. Before you know it, you really get into it…you can’t stop yourself...you start wiggling in your seat…you move your shoulders, then your bod and “maneuver” as much as you can while driving a car. I have a friend, Coleen, who is very good at this….she’s almost a pro. She can seat dance to “Burning Down the House” by the Talking Heads... like it’s nobody’s business.

So today, I got caught….You know the feeling when someone is watching you…you slowly turn your head and look over and “shoot, they got me.” Yup, a little smirk from the driver in the next lane. “Come on, eyes forward, aren’t ya supposed to be watching the road here!!??”

The other thing I love to do is sing in my car. That is something you can totally get away with, especially these days. Bluetooth has totally saved me from embarrassment. Not that I have Bluetooth in my car, but I just pretend that I do. So I sing freely like I would in the shower… If someone looks over and sees me…I just pretend like I’m talking on the phone in my car…. Actually they could probably careless, but somehow I just feel better about it all.

The other day I saw a man “playing the drums” with both hands while he drove, holding imaginary sticks and rapping out the beat……Look around, it’s funny what you’ll see in the next car over…just don’t let them catch you looking!!!!!

Hello It's Me

You gotta love technology today. I can get in touch with my college kids 24/7…through IMs and emails on the computer…through texting and calling on the cell phone. That is, if they pick up. When I call them….NO answer. When they call me…I answer,“Hi Sweetie! How’s everything going?” Okay, I realize they see it says MOM on their caller id. Heck for all I know, they have a special ring tone attached to my number…probably plays the Wicked Witch music…you know, when she flies off on her bike with Toto…

You see, they know I am after them about something they don’t want to talk about….debit card purchases, cell phone bills, and their plan for the rest of their life….hehehe Chels

So when they get the picture that I mean business…. they text me…and say, “Sorry, in class” or “Can’t talk. In the library"…ooh, they are so clever. I text them back… “Too bad, I wanted to talk about your spring break”. Then I don’t pick up….ooh, I am so clever.

I once had a heated discussion with BigC on IM. It all started so innocently. As we got into the heavy stuff….the responses were flying back and forth at the speed of light. Boy can she type fast…but aha…I can keep up…I typed my way through college for spending money. Don’t mess with fastKAT. Then things escalated…and I have to say…it was BigC’s fault. You see, she started yelling at me… she changed to capital letters! My turn…I hit Caps Lock…back at ya, girlfriend.

The more intense our ims got, the harder and faster I pushed the keys down…and she was doing the same….we were having a full blown techno heated discussion. Back and forth we im’d…faster and harder. We then decided to call a truce…”OKAY FINE, BE THAT WAY”…. “FINE, YOU BE THAT WAY”…. “FINE”… “FINE’…“BYE”… “BYE.”

Whew, after that flurry, my fingers were killing me….it is tuff to have an argument on IM. Next time I’m gonna stick to the ole fashioned way… the phone…..that is, if they’ll answer a call from the Wicked Witch.

Maneuver This

It’s that time a year….for Holiday parties. When you get dressed up, (the blinking holiday tie that plays “Deck the Halls” and those flashy festive outfits), drink a little bubbly or a little eggnog, eat a lot of food, and then hit the dance floor….That is, if the mood hits you, or the eggnog kicks in…whichever comes first. So brush up on those dance steps because there’s some “maneuvering” to do…

We once met this “chick” from California who referred to dancing as “maneuvering”…now that makes so much sense. First of all, you maneuver to get a space on a crowded dance floor. Then you try to maneuver your body in a way that it resembles dancing, instead of vertical convulsions.

Last weekend PaulA and I went to a club holiday party. Otherwise known as a fancy party in the burbs around the holidays. They had a clever name to try to disguise it, but it had “party for old folks”…written all over it. So yes, that is why I was there!

It was actually a beautiful party, with great food, fun people and a band. The singer sounded like Frank Sinatra which put a new twist on “She’s a Brick House” …very hip. You should have seen us move…we got all our body parts moving, not always in-synch…but they were moving. There’s the lady on the dance floor who didn’t work out that morning, so she’s doing her routine while her husband shuffles his feet around. Then there’s the guy who is rockin’ it hard and sweating through his shirt. And the couple that swing each other so well that they clear the deck with every turn. My hubby and I could never win Dancing with the Stars. Heck, I can’t even get him to watch it. Maneuvering is fun though, I think we should maneuver whenever possible.

It was a relatively tame party….no table maneuvering…no lap maneuvering. No one would need to don a cap and sunglasses to enter Starbucks.

Rockin' Governor

Jon Bon Jovi for Governor. Honest, I’m not clever enough to make this stuff up. I heard he is thinking about running for Governor of New Jersey. Maybe when you are a rock star anything is possible…even rule the world…or maybe start with the state of New Jersey. People probably tell him he’s “all that” … all day. So he’s thinking, “Man, Jersey needs me.” Now why would Bon Jovi want to do this? Doesn’t he realize he’ll have to go to Newark and Hackensack? So if he can run for Gov., maybe there’s hope for me with my new life aspiration…I’m thinking of becoming spokesperson for Dyslexic Drummers. And Colinboy…Music School was definitely a wise choice…look at all the possibilities…rock star turn Governor.

You know people in N.J. might actually vote for him. They might want a cool rocker guy in office….one that looks good in jeans and leather. The rest of the country might even remember the state…for a change. Jersey usually gets an unfair rap when it comes to image so he could help them with that. Governor Bon Jovi’s P.R. slogan: “Visit New Jersey, we promise you a rockin’ good time.

Jon Bon Jovi just might have a chance for Governor of New Jersey. That is, if Bruce Springsteen doesn’t want the job. Brrruuuuuccccceeee……

Call Me Coo-Coo

I’m Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs. Maybe I’m just plain coo-coo or is that cuckoo? I have to admit it. I love those chocolatey puffs. You would think at my age (no age available) that I would be over those little balls of chocolate.

When I buy cereal, I buy Grape Nut Flakes for PaulA, Cracklin’ Oat Bran for Bri, Cheerios for Chels, nothin’ for Col… don’t think he hasn’t been lectured a gazillion times for not eating breakfast…and Cocoa Puffs for me. So today, it was lunch time and we didn’t have anything to put in a sandwich…..Will the wife please go to the grocery store already!…. I pulled out the box of Cocoa Puffs.

I have been eating Cocoa Puffs for my entire life. As a youngster I jumped out of bed to get the chocolate wonder. In college I was still eating them. I remember one summer when I worked as an assistant to a secretary for the U. S. Immigration Service in the Intelligence Division. Anyway, Polly, the woman I worked for found out that I ate Cocoa Puffs every morning. So after the summer, when I left to go back to college, Polly sent me packing with a dictionary and a huge box of Cocoa Puffs…the essentials. Bet you are wondering why they hired me in the Intelligence division.

Let me try to give you a reason, any reason why I eat this sweet sugary cereal at my age: duhhh, it would be the chocolate and the chocolate milk in the bottom of the bowl. Not only do you get to crunch on chocolate puffs, but when you finish, you get to drink chocolate milk. (Okay, I don’t pick the bowl up and drink it. I am not 8 years old… I will say that.) And the cereal is sweet enough that you don’t have to add sugar…because if I ate Cheerios I would be looking for the sugar bowl.

I am expanding my tastes to include other cereals….. Cocoa Krispies. But Cocoa Puffs will always be number one. Call me Coo-Coo.

License To Eat

Thanksgiving is over…the stuffed turkey is off the menu and the stuffed KAT is off the couch. Holy Turkey did I eat a lot of food…After a while it was kind of crazy. Everything looked so good that I just had to eat it. I wouldn’t normally eat like it was my last meal ever, but it was like someone gave me a free pass…a license to eat.

License: fatKAT – Eyes: Brown, Appetite: Enormous. Legally entitled: to eat everything in sight. License expires: November 22, 2007 at midnight.

So from dawn until midnight…I had my way with the turkey and the turkey had its way with me…and I’m not talking dirty here. If anyone dared to question my ravenous appetite…I’d just flash them my license and say, “Listen Buster….read it and eat.”

So the fat lady has sung and it’s back to limited portions. Speaking of limited portions (nice transition, eh) my little niece, Liv, who was here for Thanksgiving asked me if she could have a calorie pack. Calorie pack, you ask dearie? I wasn’t at all sure what she was talking about…You mean I have calorie packs in my house? I thought I knew what was in my house, especially my kitchen. Then she pointed to the cupboard…and sure enough…there was a box of 100 calorie pack mini Oreos. Of course…I get it now…Calorie Packs… such a silly auntKat. It’s a darn good thing food at Thanksgiving wasn’t served in calorie packs. I would have had 10 calorie packs of Turkey, 15 calorie packs of mashed potatoes and 12 calorie packs of stuffing, 29 calorie packs of pumpkin pie and…

So from now on, it is limited calorie pack portions, at least until Christmas…at which time, I will be getting my license renewed.

Let's Talk Turkey

Ahhhh…Thanksgiving….my favorite holiday of the year. No presents involved so I can’t get the look… “You totally bombed, Loser Mom.” “Gee… I thought you liked toe socks….everyone likes toe socks.”

The best part about Thanksgiving is getting together with family and, of course, the eating extravaganza. The meal really isn’t that difficult…you just need a lot of it. Basically meat, potatoes, and vegetables. There are no wild expectations of a gourmet plum-glazed Mongolian turkey with foie gras. Heck, if that was served, everyone would grumble….and it wouldn’t be their stomachs talking. Also people want to contribute with their signature dishes, like Uncle Alan’s Portuguese stuffing…as Rachael Ray says, “Yummo!”

I think the reason I love the Thanksgiving holiday so much is because of the great Thanksgivings I had as a kid. We had turkey day with my mom’s family at a school and used the kitchen and cafeteria. We ran through the halls and played in the classrooms. My uncle even brought us there in a school bus. Other years we got together at the Grange (town meeting place, for those flatlanders.) It was always such a fun time with my aunts, uncles and cousins. The wonderful memories of Thanksgivings are what I hope to pass on to my family.

It is the traditions that make the holiday so special. Aunt Mary/Uncle Al & Fam arriving the night before with Pepe’s pizza, all the cooks in the kitchen, the Thanksgiving morning walk in the woods... the Pre-dinner appetizer session, The BIG Turkey dinner with all the fixins…the couch…the desserts...the couch… family game time...the couch...football games on TV…the couch…walk-it-off time outside...the couch...Round TWO…the turkey sandwiches...the couch.

I wonder if anyone has ever kept track of the average number of calories eaten on Thanksgiving Day. If they did, I would bop them on the head. You see, this is the time to unbuckle the belt, pop those buttons, loosen that skirt…and make room for a second, third piece of pie. No fun trying to “be good” … that would be very, very bad.

So here we are, getting together with a bountiful feast like the Pilgrims and Indians did in Plymouth hundreds of years ago… minus the couch. Happy Thanksgiving to my family who couldn’t be with us at our table. I love you and miss you. Have a great day and I’ll be thinking of you….while on the couch.

P.S. Should you not hear from me for a couple of days…I am in a self-induced turkey coma. Tryptophan is pretty powerful stuff and I am probably still on the ……Okay, you guessed it… the couch.

Hair Emergency

What’s a hair emergency, you ask? If you have to ask, then you’ve never had one. It’s when you’ve done a little experimenting with your own hair and then need to call in a professional. Bri was given the distinction of “Hair emergency of the year” by our hairdresser, Michelle.

After 16 years of being a blonde, Brianna decided to go brown. I still haven’t understood why she did this. You would think she had heard that blondes have more fun, by now. Instead, she threw caution to the wind…or more like CVS Ash Brown to the hair. She made a little purchase of $7.50 and got exactly what she paid for. With dye in hand she decided to make herself a brunette. If I had only known, I would have stopped the fiasco before it got started. But I was out of town, visiting my sick grandmother. So no more visiting sick grandmothers for me(bad joke)…you never know what will happen.

Bri walked around for 3 weeks as a brunette. It’s not like she looked bad…not at all. But she just didn’t look like Bri. Actually she looked like Big C. After a trip on the wild side, Bri decided she wanted her old hair color back….which isn’t as easy as I just said it. So enter…

Michelle, the hair emergency fixer….. Michelle to the rescue! After she questioned Brianna and her hair-brained idea about brown hair (pun definitely intended)…she got to work. She went to the back room and started mixing solutions….lots of them…eye of blonde, strand of Marilyn Monroe…looking for the right solution. Brianna and I just hoped that Michelle had paid attention in chemistry class. After she made her concoction, she plastered it on Bri’s head to strip off the brown. Then she washed it out…OOhhh, a nice shade of orange! Michele you weren’t paying attention in class after all. She calmed us down saying this was normal…We could only think, “You better be right about this because Halloween is over.” (Then again, if she turned it green, Bri would be ready for Christmas.) Next, the toner solution….and hmmmm… color is still not right. More toner please…fingers crossed…and in the end...

Bri got her hair color back. Everyone was happy. You know, kinda like when Stella got her groove back. Hair emergency over….thanks to Michelle.

So Close But Yet So Far

Some people like to run far and fast…Can you imagine? I have a friend who can run 11 miles like it is a walk in the park…no prob. OMG I don’t know how linnyj does that! Well today I heard that iPods are being banned from races, because they can be dangerous by blocking out other sounds. Darn….and I was thinking of running a marathon. Well, not now…I was so close.

Linnyj once got me to run in a 5 K race. (Why isn’t it called a 3 mile race for us kiddos who never learned the metric system?) What did she say to make me agree? Maybe she promised a great meal afterward.

So there I was at the race. I took one look around at the people and I knew I was in trouble. They had all the right runner clothes on and special running shoes... as I stood there in my gym shorts and Keds. I knew it was a race but did they need to be so serious. They were stretching their hams and glutes and I don’t think they were talking about making dinner. They gave us each bib numbers (the last time I wore a bib, I don’t think I could even walk)….so they were serious about recording times. Uh Oh…I am in huge trouble now. Maybe there is a short cut that I can find.

The gun goes off, don’t worry no real bullets …and we start running. (You can be sure I never saw linnyj again until the finish line.) Yep, there I am in the middle of the pack…running along. So I am feeling pretty good. I’m smiling, but for some reason no one else is. (Maybe they don’t know about the shortcut.) After a mile of running, more and more people blow right by me. Now that’s just not nice. Then more people…so by the last mile, I decide I should look back. I think I can manage to keep running and look back at the same time without falling over. So I do and I see….one runner behind me. And it is a woman who thinks she is going to pass by me, making me dead last. She is dead wrong…not in this lifetime. The one thing I know is….that blankety, blank, blank woman is staying behind my blankey, blank, blank ass….take a number sista.

I can hear her running….she is right behind me. I decide that if I can hear her, that is good, because then I will know where she is at. (You know the saying, keep your enemies close.) I’m listening and she is sounding like me…heavy breathing….another phone stalker person running. I decide I have to kick it into overdrive because my underdrive sure isn’t working.

The finish line is fast approaching or is that slowly approaching….and I have managed to keep that rascal behind me, where she belongs. I change my iPod to the perfect song… The Chariots of Fire theme song. That works for me….I can visualize myself crossing the finish line (in slo-mo, of course) with the woman behind me, eating my proverbial dust. And I actually do it…I win! I beat the slow-assed woman. I didn’t win the race, but I finished (my time is my secret) and I wasn’t dead last. Moral of the story kids…lower your expectations. No wait, just kidding, that isn’t it. Maybe it’s…you can accomplish things if you push yourself hard enough.

So nope, no marathons for me…And that is a shame! No iPod…no marathons. You see, I was so close...

Happy Birthday Father!

You are 76 today and you have a lot of fans out there thinking of you and wishing you a Happy Birthday. I know you like to call us “sports fans”…but we are really YOUR fans….call us “Jerry fans!”

I just have to tell the world about my amazing father on his 76th birthday and what better place to do it! First of all, Gerald is a trivia buff. Okay maybe knowing the square mileage of Jacksonville, Florida could come in handy someday….especially if you were going to walk it. He can also give you directions to anywhere from nowhere. He knows that Interstate 70 intersects with Interstate 71 in Columbus, Ohio … I don’t know how he knows this stuff, maybe he was born with a GPS chip inside of him. And he also knows everything about sports. I mean everything…obscure facts about teams, players and coaches....and not just professional sports…even high school sports….go ahead, quiz him. Gerald is the friendliest guy you ever want to meet and the most easy going…that’s G.L. He should have run for mayor because he can hold court wherever he goes. He can strike up a conversation with just anyone….and believe me he has.

You should have seen Gerald when he wore his Air Force Blues. Maybe I am a little biased, but I thought he was the most handsome dad ever. And at age 76, he’s the cutest dad out there. Yep, when it comes to the cuteness factor, he’s got it… hands down. The dog tags given to me when my dad was in the Air Force are my most prize possession. And on Veteran’s Day I wear them proudly… proud that they say, “Kathy-Anne T.… Daughter of Gerald T…

Gerald has also earned a nickname as Jerry Bring Back. When my mother buys something and later decides she doesn’t want it…she gives it to my dad. Okay, who is going to give a 76 year old man a hard time about bringing back curtains. Remember, I just said he has the cuteness factor going for him, and what is he doing with swags and jabots, anyway?

One of my father’s famous lines growing up was, “Who loves Dad? Raise your hand.” We could be doing our homework, washing the dishes, or watching television and he would say it, “Who loves Dad? Raise your hand.”… automatically we would each raise our hand into the air and keep on doing what we were doing. Do you think we were going to deny my dad his fun?!

I remember when my mom didn’t feel like cooking and we were lucky to get dinner at McDonalds. My father and I had the special job of picking it up. I would get a pad of paper, write down everyone’s order, and then jump in the ole Tempest next to him. I can still hear that car today…sounded just like my washing machine. Off we would go to Mickey D’s, my dad and I on a burger mission…swoosh, cchuck, swoosh, ccchuck. I remember hoping that mom didn’t feel like cooking the next week …..burgers and time with dad….it was the best.

So Happy Birthday, Father. You are dearly loved by me and everyone who knows you. I could write more about how great you are, but I am having a hard time typing with just one hand. You see, my other hand is raised….. high in the air....

A Minute and a Half

A minute and a half, 90 seconds, and then it’s over. That’s how long it takes me to sing the National Anthem and I did that last night at a college basketball game in the civic center ...live…A cappella...no instrumental accompaniment to drown me out. Yep, me the microphone and my fingers crossed.

It is the probably the most vulnerable I could feel in front of 10,000 total strangers unless, of course, I was also standing there without my clothes. The best thing though is I can feel the crowd almost rooting me on and hoping I don’t screw up. Just hoping I don’t forget the words and stand there awkwardly with a blank expression….duh! They probably are putting themselves into my size 6 ½ shoes and also thinking…. “you got yourself into this, now sing yourself out.” After all, I’m not a professional, or anything close to one, and it is 10,000 people. Plus or minus a couple of people who were in the bathroom or out getting beer…and you know who you are. Could you please try to be on time next time.

So was I nervous? You bet your late ass I was…Even though I have done this for ten years…the anxious feelings still come. Actually I am the most nervous the day I have to sing. Oh and driving to the event, I am super duper nervous. I am very preoccupied and focused on the whole thing…heck, if I got a call from one of my kids and they said…”Mom, I’m dropping out of college”, I’d say, “Oh, isn’t that nice.” And PaulA is so sweet to me. When he drives me to the event, I can tell he is on his best behavior…trying to say and do all the right things so I don’t go into Diva breakdown. He tries not to distract me by saying anything randomly stupid, he doesn’t play the radio and he doesn’t hum…He drops me off at the front door and wishes me good luck… (Probably can’t wait to get rid of me!) He does everything he possibly can….so if I screw up…I can’t blame him!!

During the 45 minutes that I have to wait to sing…I pace and wait. Practice a couple of notes. Wait and pace. After my name is finally announced, I walk out to center court, take a deep breath, stare at the flag….and for some reason….I am not nervous anymore. Maybe it isn’t nerves after all, maybe it is adrenaline getting me all amped up. But I don’t feel nervous at all…I go into auto drive and the words just come to me ...and luckily in the correct order, which is totally awesome because I might confuse a few people singing along with .. “And the rockets blasted in red air. The glare bursting in bombs.” Good thing I had my fingers crossed!

I keep going back for more because I love it…A minute and a half of adrenaline, being on the spot, and trying, oh so hard, not to embarrass my children.

Name Game

Do you think the name you have been given when you are born affects your personality? I was thinking this because I read in the paper today about a Judge McWeeny. “Sorry, McWeeny, but I had to laugh out loud over your name!” It’s one thing to be McDreamy or McSteamy, but McWeeny!…I’m still laughing.

So then I was wondering…. Hmmmmm does his last name affect how he acts as a judge or how he is perceived as a judge? Is he a tough son-of-a-judge because with a name like McWeeny, people would think he was an easy push-over. If I was Joe Criminal, I would hope to hell that I would get Judge McWeeny, because my chances for a lesser sentence sound better than with Judge McKickass. Also I might want my attorney to be…Attorney Sue Thepantsoffyou instead of Attorney Walkalloverme.

It is funny when your name contradicts how you look….We knew a Mr. Small who wasn’t small at all and a Mr. Black who wasn’t black at all. And a Mr. Tidy who was a total slob…ok, I made that last one up.

When I was growing up, I once lived in a neighborhood of strange names. One particular family had two boys, one named Boy and the other Kicker. I’m not kidding. What kind of chance in life do you give your kids with names like Boy and Kicker? Not sure what Boy is doing now…but I can’t see him in the boardroom, shaking hands, “Hello, I’m Boy.” No one would ever trust a company to Boy! My god, aren’t you a man by now…when are you going to grow up? And then Kicker… unless you are playing for the New England Patriots…you’ve got a weird name, dude. There was also another kid in the neighborhood named Cash. Just because you name your kid Cash doesn’t mean he’ll be rolling in it! I think he’s a priest in Peoria.

My parents didn’t straddle me with a strange name….Back in the day, everyone was named Kathy, so I was destined to live life in the mainstream. Our children are lucky we didn’t give them names that would cause them embarrassment. We were pretty close to naming them: Maggie, Bart and Lisa, so they did okay.

Love Thy Neighbor

You know the saying, “Love Thy Neighbor”…I don’t think so….not my neighbors. I’ve got sketchy neighbors. They are the third set to be in the house next door which by the way, is a gorgeous brick home in a very beautiful neighborhood, next to some amazing people….that would be us!

The first family that lived there was great. They took meticulous care of their house and lawn, had great Christmas decorations, and were very involved in the neighborhood….threw a great neighborhood Holiday party. (Didn’t get wild drunk at the party and say stupid things either.) They were only there a couple of years… split town…not in the middle of the night or anything. Enter a new family…

..a couple with two huge poodles. Poodles for some reason scare me and especially two together. They were black and white, so I think they were trying to be socially correct or something. Anyway, they were just a little odd (not the dogs…the people, silly)…couldn’t really put my finger on it. Very friendly, but had very strange stories…like the woman “accidentally” burned down their house when she was younger, stuff like that. She claimed she could do just about anything….especially when it came to plumbing (whose plumbing?)…very interesting talent. One thing that was pretty neato was the media room they put in their basement. This was the highlight of their time in the neighborhood…they had a few of us over and we sat in their big honker leather chairs and watched their big ass screen. They had a baby and then moved to Florida. Enter very sketchy neighbors…..

The sketchy neighbors have earned their title of sketchy. First of all, not sure what they do for work over there…maybe work from the house…maybe the home mortgage business (think that is how they keep the house) or the mob. Okay, the mob is a little dramatic, but read on….

There is a grandmom, daughter and her 2 older sons who live there. I won’t even tell you about their size, cuz that is not fair. hehe They have HUGE (for good reason) black cars, Cadillacs, convertibles….lots of them. They like to lay rubber in their driveway….you know rev the car and slam the brakes on…all in 10 feet. They have many strange cars and people coming at different times of the day/week; some from another state. They have so many cars and visitors that they are parking on their lawn in the back which is ruining the lawn. Plus the front lawn has gone to shit….I mean, weeds.

When they first moved in, the phone company and electric company were over there 24/7. Hmmm, wondering…do they have people working out of their basement? Anway, the transformer between our 2 homes blew up. Never had a problem until the sketchies moved in. They have a special trash pick-up day different from everyone else in the neighborhood. The truck backs down their driveway to their cans. (I mean trash cans.) Hmmm, wondering….what are they disposing that can’t be brought out to the curb?? They never walk down the driveway to the mailbox…one of their visitors stops at the mailbox and brings it in every day. They never have been to a neighborhood get-together (and we’re such fun people.) You never, ever see these people outside unless they are whizzing by in a car. In the middle of the night you might hear them. Supposedly they “sold” their home (that is what the paper showed) to someone….but they never moved out. The sketchies are still in the house. Do I need to say anymore??? Trust me I could….but I think you get the picture.

So if for some reason you don’t hear from me again…you might try putting 2 and 2 together…..you’ll figure out they read my blog and I am now dead meat. But until they off me…..I smile and wave when I see their big ass cars drive by…..I do not want to be the next drive by….you know what I’m talking about, here??!!!

Red Sox World Champions

I just finished watching the Red Sox Rolling Rally on NESN…Celebration of the Red Sox World Champions. After watching, I have a big beef and I just have to get it out. My beef is with the news announcers at the parade. They were really bad…. said the stupidest things. How is it they get their jobs? I didn’t know just anyone could be an announcer…. Especially the woman- never got her name-(she gives women announcers a bad name.) At one point she said, Oh, I hear some fans booing…Something must have happened. I wonder what they don’t like.” You stupid, ridiculous, moronic woman….they are yelling “Youk.” Kevin Youkilis is on the Duck boat right in front of you and they are yelling for him. Where have you been? Have you ever been to Fenway and watched a game? Have you ever watched a game on your own channel? She was just so stupid that I was yelling at the TV…but then I stopped…I felt stupid.

The other thing the announcers kept bringing up, which totally bugged me is....World Series 2004 vs World Series 2007. How this World Series win is different than the World Series win in 2004. How this team is different than 2004. How this parade is different than 2004. If you’re like me, you want to yell, “Of course, blockheads….it is different than 2004 because first of all, it is 2007 and not 2004. Duh, the 86 year wait to win the World Series made the 2004 win significant. But it doesn’t mean that this win isn’t great too. And we didn’t have to wait another 86 years so that makes 2007 very special!”

On a sweeter note, the parade looked fun….very nice that Col could be there, just hope he didn’t skip class like I’m envisioning college kids and kids of all ages did….Also Papelbon was so entertaining for the crowd…singing, playing air guitar with the broom….loved his Irish jig even though he does the jig homeboy style. Yep, that is definitely a homeboy style jig when you stick your tongue out and bend your fingers like tha rappas do….Col is the master at this. He (Papelbon, Col too) is definitely someone you would want to invite to your next party…but I’m sure he’s booked.

I also have to admit when I make a mistake. One of my new blog peeps…actually my sister, Sister Sledge, brought up a good point about something I wrote a couple of blog entries ago….. that the Red Sox didn’t have good looking players. She said she thought that Josh Beckett was cute……..So I stand corrected although I am trying to understand Beckett’s beard. Thank you Sister Sledge for your contribution and for actually reading my blog……

Congratulations to the Red Sox Champions of the World!!!!

You Remind Me Of

Have you ever been told you remind them of someone or you look like someone else? When you first hear this you cringe and hold your breath…Please don’t say I look like Lyle Lovett! Or Rosie O’Donnell!

When I was 19, I was told I looked like Ali McGraw in Love Story. (Great Old School cry scene movie.) I wasn’t surprised I looked like her…I had long brown hair parted in the middle, brown eyes….half the population back then looked like her. Add a streak of white and I could have looked like Morticia from the Addams Family.

My hubby has been told he looks like….Jeb Bush. Laugh now, but then keep it short. He doesn’t exactly like this comparison…You know, I can kinda see what people are seeing but Pauly is way better looking and not the chubster that ole Jeb is (just ask him)!jk The woman who cuts his hair gets a kick out of calling him Jeb and people even stop him in airports, restaurants….Maybe he should try walking into the White House as ole Jeb and have a look around.

The other day a salesman told me that I reminded him of someone…not my looks but my actions. I was at the Pottery Barn and the fella there was trying to sell me extra stuff, even after I had already made a decent purchase…. “Stop already, with selling stuff!” So he says, “You might want to get the caterer’s boxes of wine glasses and plates for Thanksgiving just in case you need more.” I said to him, “No thanks. You know, I’m all set with that. I have had Thanksgiving every year for the last 11 years and I have it down to a science. I even have a “Thanksgiving” folder where I keep notes from every year...like who brought what, how much turkey we got, what we should do next year.” He looked at me and said, “ooooooooo, that is so Bree of you. You know Bree from Desperate Housewives.” What a knucklehead, of course I know Bree from Desperate Housewives…now if I looked like her that would be okay, but to be like her ….

OMG when you think about it….my actions do sound anal retentive (nasty expression)…. just like Bree Van de Camp. I never would have thought of myself as her so of course, I had to defend myself! “You know, I’m not really like that…I’m not like Bree at all. I just want to have a nice Thanksgiving and make it easy on myself. I really am not that organized.” You could tell what he was thinking, “Sure lady, you are Bree. Who keeps a Thanksgiving folder? Just the Wackos.”

So the next time you say to someone, “You know who you remind me of?” Be very careful what you say, because they just might return the favor and say, “Well you look like Willie Nelson or you remind me of Hillary Clinton!

World Series – Game 4 - Batter’s Up!

Yes, It’s Game 4 and the Red Sox could take it all….4 in a row and out of there…out of the wild west…That would be great. Some fans say they want the Red Sox to win it in Boston. It does sound like a good time…….to be a fan and win it at home….but I want them to win it tonight. TONIGHT. Forget losing the next two games to win it at home….Because… “What if?” What if the Rockies got darn good and lucky and came back? So let’s get the Rockies now…bury them…put them out of their misery. I’m all for that!

I have a couple of quick keen observations. First of all, have you seen the Colorado Rockies Manager, Clint Hurdle? Have you watched him, or better yet have you watched him chew gum? It is the funniest thing! When he chews gum, which is so much better than chewing a big wad of tobacco, his hat moves up and down… I’m not kidding. His baseball cap is going up and down with each chew. I have never seen someone’s hat do that. So, of course, that means his forehead is moving up and down because how else would his hat do that!! So I gave it a try…I pretended to chew gum to see if my forehead would move up and down. I think this would be a great trick at parties. “Hey, look what Kat can do!” Nope…shucks….can’t get my forehead to move unless I move my eyebrows up and down. Maybe I’ll get some real gum and try again. Why don’t you give it a try? You too may have this special talent and could be a hit at parties or maybe it just belongs to Hurdle.

Another observation is those white towels the Rockies fans wave….What are they called…. crying towels? It just seems so rude. I’d like to snap a crying towel at one of them and make them cry…maybe just at their knees and not in their face….I don’t want to be rude too.

Have you heard enough about the altitude in Colorado? How it can affect how well the Red Sox can run or the effect on the ole curve ball? Okay, it is interesting information, but enough of it…..Duh, we get it by now.

One thing I realized during the last game is….The Red Sox don’t have good looking guys on their team. And don’t try to tell me you think Big Papi is a hunk or Youkilis is a looker. I love the Red Sox and would only root for them, but in the looks department, they are running way behind. Take the New York Yankees….don’t like the Yankees but I have to admit they have a few good looking players on their team…Jeter, A-Rod. But what the Red Sox don’t have in good looks, is made up for in the character department. The Red Sox have everyone beat when it comes to character. Who could even come close to the free spirit of a Manny Ramirez, or the River Dance of a Papelbon??

So good luck to the Red Sox. I want you to win tonight…bring it home….The late nights are killing me and I have really important stuff I have to do…..now that is funny.
Go Red Sox!

Old School Rules

My kids like to talk about Old School….of course, they think anything we said, did or wore from my generation is Old School…heck, they even think the 80s are Old School. Okay maybe Pacman is a little outdated, but for me Old School would be the Roman Chariot Races, the Middle Ages, or maybe Genghis Khan and his empire….

Here’s an Old School drink…. Fresca. The other day Pauly asked if the next time I was at the Stop and Shop…could I get some Fresca. Whoa there, Fresca….He said he had tasted a Fresca recently and liked it. Said it was very refreshing!

For some reason Fresca is making a resurgence…not sure why this is happening. Maybe it is cool to be retro! Like leg warmers….excuse me, but why are these coming back? Remember Tab? (Okay, the kids don’t.) Tab is trying to work its way back….trying to ride Fresca’s coat tails. Good luck…I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Fresca has it over Tab….by a mile.

A little while ago I was at a Better Bedding store looking at some mattresses. There was a very nice salesman in there, and he was really into explaining the different mattresses to me. First I thought, “Wow…I know he must do this a lot, but he seems to be really into it…. Like I was his very first customer.” Now that is pretty special. The other thing I thought is, “Man, he looks like he could be an undertaker!” Now think about it…mattresses have to do with sleeping…undertakers have to do with those who sleep forever…very interesting... (Sorry, I just digressed in my story.)

So I finally made my mattress selection. Mr. Better Bedding/Undertaker was writing up the order and said, “While you wait……Can I get you a Fresca?” “What,” I said to myself, “Did he just say Fresca??” What again…with the Fresca. And the way he said it…. “Can I get cha a Fresca?” I’m telling you…so funny……so retro …so Old School!!

So Fresca is on its way back…back from Old School… the retro “new” popular drink. Okay maybe just at our house. Actually, we are on a mission to put Fresca back into the spotlight. We always keep Fresca on hand… in 2 liter bottles, 6 packs in cans, 12 packs in handy carrying cases. So if you come over and you’re looking kinda thirsty…You can bet we’ll ask…….
“Can I get cha a Fresca???

Let's Go Red Sox!

It was an awesome comeback for the Boston Red Sox to win the ALCS in Game 7. Let’s hope they go all the way and win the World Series! If they do win the World Series, let’s hope they don’t kill each other or severely injure each other during their celebration. The other night after the Red Sox won the ALCS, they went bonkers. Did you stay up to see them? They were so happy and exhilarated. They ran around screaming and yelling, jumped in each other’s arms, jumped on each other’s backs, chest bumped each other, fell to the ground, knocked heads, slapped each other around, and sprayed champagne in each other’s faces. If you were from another country and watched this, you might think they were really trying to hurt each other. What is it about sports that when the players are overjoyed, they express their excitement by mauling each other? I wonder what it would be like if we went bonkers in our excitement over something……I can see it now….

Okay, Pauly is at work… Paul, “the closer” has just nailed a deal and gonna get a big kahoona payout …When he seals the deal, he squeezes and shakes the guy’s hand until it goes limp, slaps the guy on the back with extra gusto and screams, “hell of a deal.”

Okay, Col and his band have a great concert and everyone is going wild…they are pysched…and feeling like bad ass rockers….the band guys break their guitars over each other’s backs , turn up the reverb, and scream “Power to the People” into the mics.

Okay, Big C and her sorority sisters have just won first prize at Homecoming …They are overjoyed… they hug each other until they’re blue, smear each other’s make up, and scream “Sisters Forever.”

Okay, Bri gets an A on her Chem test…She turns the exam paper into an airplane and flies it at her teacher, throws the chalk into the air and screams chemistry formulas at the top of her lungs.


Then Kat is in a 4 person ladies’ golf tournament and birdies Hole #4 Red…the team is ecstatic, they fist pump into the air while high stepping around the green, knock each other’s visors off, and scream “Birdies Only.”

Note to the Red Sox –
Caution: In the event of winning the World Series, please proceed carefully with celebration.

Let’s Go Red Sox!!

5 Second Rule

Do you believe in the 5 second rule? You know the one…you drop something on the floor, you quickly pick it up (within 5 seconds) and then maybe eat it. So you’re just about to put something really tasty in your mouth and you drop it…darn. Do you think, “Do I pick that up and eat it, is it gross to eat, is anyone watching me?” Then you say to yourself, “Oh, that’s okay it was on the floor for only 4 seconds.” (Sound familiar Brister?)

I would say, that where you dropped the food, should enter into your decision to eat it or not. For instance, I would never eat off a subway station floor. We all know the New York subway system is disgusting….so that’s an easy one. The Washington Metro has a reputation of being clean…..but still not a wise idea. Definitely, definitely not at a hospital…..people go in there and sometimes they never come out. I would also say the bathroom is out of the question. But why are you eating in the bathroom? I would, however, definitely eat off a few of my friend’s floors (and you know who you are) which are cleaner than most people’s kitchen counters. Oh, and I have a couple of friends where I would totally eat off their garage floor…..no joking. I think I might risk it at my own house…and that is only because I know Duncan Dog’s favorite places to leave his calling card.

You also might want to consider, what you drop, into your decision as to where you draw the line between eat or not eat. For me, if I dropped a wrapped stick of gum …I would still eat it. Now if I had been chewing the piece of gum, ABC gum, and dropped it…. no way would I eat it. Also, an open faced peanut butter sandwich is totally out of the question. First of all, they both have the ability to glom on…and that would include dirt and fuzzy stuff, not to mention deadly bacteria. I would hate for that to be the reason I left the world prematurely......Here lies dumb Kat, she ate off the floor.

So … unless you like to live dangerously…ummm, Brister…I would basically skip the 5 second rule…… unless, of course, no one is watching.

Pay It Backward

If it’s Monday, it must be Dunkin Donuts….Actually, I go every morning for coffee and I mean every single morning. I would say that I’m not really awake until I have had a medium black coffee from Dunkin Donuts. Forget going to Starbucks. Without a drive-thru, Starbucks never had a chance to hook me on their strong java jolt. The drive-thru is great…you can put anything on and just go…the clothes on the floor, heck even your PJs….whose gonna know (not that I would do that or anything.) But the biggest thing is that I don’t think I could have an intelligent conversation if I had to wait in line for my coffee. If I ran into someone I knew and I had to string 2 words together....real trouble. How do Starbucks people do it? Maybe they are a more intelligent species. I wanna hug the person that invented the drive-thru!

This morning, I made my usual trek over to DDs. Our Dunkin Donuts has two ways to enter the drive-thru. I usually sneak behind the Liquor Depot and get in line from the back way. A lot of times I have no trouble with this tactic, but this morning there was already a huge line of caffeine deprived drivers queued up from the main entry, ready to receive their morning boost. Hmmmm… I would just have to wait patiently (sure I can do that) for everyone to go through….then I would get my turn for my caffeine fix. Well just imagine my surprise - the person in the big black Cadillac waved for me to go ahead…..actually motioned for me to cut the line!!! Wow, that is a biggie when you are talking about your morning coffee. So I did what most crazed caffeine seeking individuals would do…..I cut the line!

As I approached DDs and my cup of joe was moments away, I looked in my rear view window to see what nice individual would let me jump ahead. The person was an ole guy with a Veteran license plate and a Boston Red Sox cap (Go Sox) proudly displayed on his dashboard. I thought he was very kind to help me in my quest for coffee. When I got to the window, I told the DD attendant, “I want to pay it backwards….I want to pay for the nice gentleman behind me.”

You’ve heard of “Pay It Forward”…you know, doing “random” good deeds for people. Well, you can only “Pay It Backward” when you are in the drive-thru line… think about it, the guy would be gone already!!! Okay, so I know I’m not a champion of the world or anything….but I felt that he had done a good deed so I wanted to show my appreciation. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting any return on his good deed (if he did, he might have ordered more than the 2 coffees!) It’s just important when we are out in the world, that we are nice to each other….

Sure better than me sneaking through the back way, squealing in on two wheels, forcing my way into the line, ramming my car up to the other guys bumper, flipping the guy off behind me and yelling “Have a Nice Day.”

So now it’s Tuesday….It must be Dunkin Donuts.

The Wood Man Cometh

A few years ago…well actually quite a few…we lived in Manilus, New York. Manlius is located near Syracuse, in a snow belt off of Lake Ontario, so it gets its share of bad weather. To get prepared for our first long cold winter, we thought we should get wood for our fireplace. Being new in town, you are never quite sure where to go, but I had seen an ad in the local paper: Wood Man - Wood delivered. So I told my husband, “Let’s give the Wood Man a call.” We got quite a chuckle out of the Wood Man’s name… the Wood Man from Manilus. .. Ooooo the Wood Man. Anyway, the Wood Man delivered his wood and we were in woody heaven that winter.

The winters last forever in Manlius, the snow capital of the world. It was like we were living in a snow globe. It snowed every day…..like there was someone up there shaking our snow globe... it just kept coming down. So when the winter was finally over and it stopped snowing, it was now April and our taxes were due.

We had some complicated taxes to file so Pauly looked for an accountant. He found one in the local newspaper: The Tax Man. We thought it was funny that the town has a Wood Man and a Tax Man… real chuckle over that one. So Pauly got all his tax stuff together and I said I would drop the paper work off at the Tax Man’s office. Now, do you see where I am going here?

That day I found out that the Tax Man was the Wood Man. They were the same guy…hahahahehehe I thought that was hysterical. The guy is the Wood Man in the fall and the Tax Man in the spring. All he has to do it turn over his sign! So I wondered what kind of job the Tax Man was going to do on our taxes. Would he hack them up and we would end up going to jail because the Tax Man was really the Wood Man? We would have to explain to the IRS that the reason our taxes got chopped that year was because we actually hired the Wood Man.

So I couldn’t wait to tell Pauly….why do I get so much enjoyment out of these situations?? Should I break it to him gently or should I just blurt it out? I go for it.... “Honey, I dropped off the paperwork for the Tax Man, but uuuhhhh…..ummmm…..the Tax Man is really the Wood Man.” I’m waiting now…What’s Pauly gonna say? Will he freak out? Will he worry the Tax Man was really a hack? He replied, “Next time you see the Tax Man, put in an order for a cord of wood.”

I got to thinkin’…..what if the Wood Man delivers a cord of pencils???!!!!

I'm Baaaaaaacccccckkkk!!!!

Florida was great….what’s not to like about Florida, the Sunshine State. The flight down was uneventful so that is why I am able to sit here instead of the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Uneventful flight = good flight.

It was wonderful to see my grandmother and Uncle Ellie and they seemed very happy to see us. In case you’re wondering…Uncle Ellie is my grandmother’s husband. Grandma has been married to Ellie for 36 years since my grandfather died. My grandfather, Ross, died at age 51 so then my grandmother married Ellie. We call him Uncle Ellie although he is like my grandfather by now. I gotta give you a little more background here…Uncle Ellie was married to my Great Aunt Fan. Fan was first married to my grandfather’s brother, Bud. After Bud died at age 31, Aunt Fan married Ellie. So then after Aunt Fan died and my grandfather died, Ellie and Grandma got married. It’s all really kosher and everything …it’s not like my grandmother married her brother or anything!!! So I know what you are thinking…. set the snooze alarm....enough of the genealogy already.

While there we stayed in the retirement park where grandma lives. It was a 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bath manufactured trailer unit. Actually very cute. I especially loved my bedroom. It was like sleeping in a closet which I have since found can be very handy. While lying in my twin bed I could touch the built-in closet on one side with one hand and at the same time touch the wall to the bathroom on the other side. How cool is that? So while I was lying in bed I could pull my clothes from my closet, put them on, swing my legs over to the other side of the bed, take one step and brush my teeth. If that isn’t efficiency…don’t know what is.

So let’s see …there were no special dinners or special dances at the park last week. That big fun doesn’t start until December. I have had the privilege of attending one of their Hawaiian Luaus in the past so I know what goes on. First thing I know for sure is that everyone has a rippin’ good time, especially after the Mai Tais kick in. Another thing I have noticed is there are a few devious and crafty widows who have their fingers crossed hoping that the other woman (probably their friend) will keel over so they can move in on the woman’s husband. They are circling like vultures waiting to pounce on their prey. (Sorry, I guess I’ve been watching too much Animal Kingdom.) But as statistics show….it’s usually the other way around, and the man kicks the proverbial bucket before the woman. ‘So good luck Mabel, if you think you can scoop ole Henry over there in the corner.’

The best thing about the trip was seeing that my grandmother was feeling better. She had gotten Shingles…..which sounds like she was going to do a little carpentry work on the outside of her house, but just ask her, it sure isn’t. Anyway, my grandma who is almost 93 seems to be getting through the worst of it. I would like to think that seeing our smiling faces…..you know… family, relatives, people who love you…. was the reason she started feeling better. I’m hoping grandma lives way past 100 years old….it would be fun to see Willard Scott wish her a “Happy Birthday.” Plus I’m hoping I might have inherited those longevity genes, cuz the ones from grandpops and his bro don’t look too promising. Go Grams!!

Anyway, it is good to be baaaaaaaacccccccckkkkkkkck….

Over The River and Through The Woods...

I'm gonna take a few days off from blogging….aren’t you the lucky one? I am going with my mother to visit her mother in Florida. That would technically be my grandmother. And she is 93 so every visit is very important…. especially to us. So when I am away I will not be able to blog. She lives in a retirement community…(let’s face it, you are very retired at 93 …heck, you are even tired of being retired) and she doesn’t have a computer (forget internet access) in her crib. It’s not like she hasn’t heard of it…after all, she is alive and kicking in the 21st century, but she frankly has no use for a computer.

I’m sure someday when my kid’s kids are flying around in their very own personal planes….I’ll be hugging my 4-door machine with 4 tires called a car. You’ll be hearing me say, “That’s okay honey, I’m gonna stick my Ford Escape over here….See ya when I get there.” Or when they talk through their sunglasses with music playing in the background on what they call a “Com - short for communications device”, I will say, That’s okay honey, I’m gonna stick with my nifty Motorola mobile cell phone.”

So when I get back, I might have a story or two from there….You see, that place is rich with material….lots of stuff going on….I’m sure there’s a dinner at the Rec. hall at 4pm followed by a dance til 7pm!!!

Blog On

It has been almost a month since I first started to blog. By the way…do you know how the word blog was invented? Interesting fact here if you don’t already know. It is from two words….Web and Log. I’m glad someone (whoever you are) came up with “Blog.” I prefer the sound of, “I’m keeping a Blog” (Very Nice) so much better than “I’m keeping a Web Log.” (Nerdy)

And so I go: blog, blog, blog. But when my blog starts to sound like, Blah, Blah, Blah…I will have to sign-off forever. At this juncture, however, I will continue to blog the internet with kats tale of 5 until my peeps (Wishy Bones, Big C, Col, Frank the Tank -"just a nickname not a tank at all, and did I mention very sweet", and Deedlebug) tell me to stop.

So when my blog starts looking like and smelling like bologna…(Notice how much the word blog looks like bologna when you pronounce it the way it is spelled: bolog- na…pretty close, eh!)….. I will depend on the aforementioned to tell me to stop. They can say it gently with a wink and a nod, or they can shout it out: “Enough Already Kat!!”

Yep, I will fade into blogworld oblivion leaving only some final dots……. Until then….I Blog On!!!

Bull Work or Squirrel Work

My brother-in-law has the most interesting division of labor ever figured out for married couples. Before he does anything, he figures out if it is bull work or squirrel work. Bull work is something that the man does…such as heavy lifting, moving furniture, cutting down trees, shoveling snow…you know the big physical jobs. Squirrel work is smaller work and that is done by the woman….scheduling appointments, cooking the dinner, washing the dishes, vacuuming the floor, dusting the furniture…need I say more. The only problem with my brother-in-law's “rational thinking” is that my husband is totally on board with it. So for instance, the wife (uh, me) would be required to do the laundry because that has “squirrel work” written all over it. BUT if I needed the washing machine moved…yup, that’s bull work. Squirrel work is ironing the clothes and hanging them in the closet….. Bull work would be building a new closet. Getting the picture??? .

A very interesting thing about bull work is that sometimes it requires other bulls to get together to do it. The bulls congregate, put their bull heads together, maybe get a case, just in case they get thirsty, and talk about how the bull work should be done.

Now I can’t figure out what I dislike most about Squirrel work….is it the actual jobs in the squirrel category or the fact that I would ever be considered gray haired and bushy tailed. …...

Now I have a Bull work and Squirrel work decision dilemma-
It is time to practice driving with Sweet Wishy who is learning to drive and needs lots of practice. Would this be bull work or squirrel work? Don’t know …that’s a hard one…just know….all bulls and squirrels, head for the hills!!!

Designer Dogs

Do you like to dress your dog up and put clothes on him? Maybe not a whole outfit…like Seven jeans and a Harley Davidson jacket, but you know, a doggie sweater or maybe a little doggie scarf. After a day at the dog spa, our groomer puts a scarf on Duncan. To tell you the truth, I think it makes him look like a fruitcake…so I rip it off as soon as I am out of eye range of the woman. I wouldn’t want to offend the groomer lady. She is actually awesome and Duncan and I totally respect her. Duncan respects her because she has the scissors and his world by the b… and one slip could do a lot of damage. I respect her because she likes to use the word “bitches” when she talks about dogs. She does sound a little nasty, like she is swearing, but she can totally get away with it. She knows a lot about dogs and when you use the word “bitches”, it sounds like you have a PhD in dogs.

Back to doggie dress up….I have to admit, I have put a bowtie on Duncan for New Years Eve. On one particular New Years, we had some friends visit with their two dogs. At midnight we put party hats on the dogs and took their picture. It sounds kinda stupid and immature (we were young, really), but at the time, Oh so funny.

Chelsea has always wanted Duncan to wear an outfit. She has a friend who has a little dog that she dresses up with bows and clothes, so Chelsea started begging (good girl, nice Chelsea:) for something special for Duncan to wear. Reluctantly I got Duncan this big red jersey that had the number 9 on the back of it. Although he wasn’t a willing participant, we managed to get it on him. The jersey had to stretch way the heck over his big barrel chest. After all, he is a portly Portuguese water dog who has given up on his figure over the past 9 and a half years. He looked kinda silly, but I have to say, it made him look athletic. He looked like he could be a mascot for a team. Anyway, the kids really liked it and I think Duncan did too ….because when he wore it, they paid A LOT more attention to him. The kids played with him, gave him treats, threw the ball, and said nice things to him.

See, all ya need are some cool threads! Suddenly you’re a people magnet and everyone wants a piece of ya!

It's So Random

This is so random…a random subject and it is about the word "random. " Colin uses the word random a lot and I have decided I like it too. When you want to change subjects because you just can’t stand to hear the person talk another boring word about their boring life: You say: “This is random, but…I heard Jeb moved to Mexico.” See how that worked….subject change….GOOD. The person totally goes with the convo change, because you said it was random. But if you said, “Excuse me, I heard Jeb moved to Mexico?” They would give you a disgusting look and think you were a rude, irritating scoundrel for interrupting and changing the subject…..NOT GOOD. So remember that using random is socially acceptable and comes in handy to get you out of a totally snoozzzzing conversation.

Here’s another random use that I picked up from the master himself. I asked Colin, “Who was at the party with you last nite?” He says, “hmmm…random people.” Okay, random people. First of all, what do random people look like? Are their features randomly on their faces....are their noses sticking out of the sides of their heads? Oh, now I get it! It is his way of saying: “other kids were there but don’t think I am about to start naming names.”

My time to turn the tables on Colinboy. I have a random usage all set for him the next time he comes home from school and I just can’t wait to break it out on him. Colin comes in the kitchen and says, “Hey mom, what’s for dinner tonite?” I say, “Oh, random food you can find.” And that’s my way of saying: “what are ya thinkin’, its Saturday nite…I don’t cook on Saturdays, never did, never will and not about to start.” See I’m totally off the hook for the dinner thing cuz I used random!

Let’s see if there is another random usage I can employ……hmmmmm…. My husband says, “How much did you spend on your trip to Nordstroms today?” I smile and say, “oh, a random amount on random things.” ….Work it, Kat!!!

Manny is Our Man

Did you see that game last night? It had the perfect ending…that is, if you are a Red Sox fan. So, it’s the bottom of the ninth and the score is tied with two outs. Big Papi is up. Big Decision for the Angels: Let Big Papi hit and hope he doesn’t stick it to you or Walk Big Papi and hope Manny doesn’t stick it to you. As they say, “pick your poison.” Decision made: Intentionally walk the Big Guy …that brings Manny up. What’s Manny gonna do….does ANYONE ever know what Manny is gonna do? First pitch: Ball one. Second Pitch: Fastball…and that sucker is going, going, gone out of the park…Manny raises both arms and watches the ball before he runs the bases. Manny killed the ball ….. it flew over the infield, outfield, soared over the Monster seats, heck it took-off like it had wings headed for the Boston Museum of Fine Arts - where it belongs - a piece of art from the Manny Ramirez Collection. A walk-off, 3-run homer - Game Over….Red Sox win.

Manny is an interesting character, a true personality, an individual …when they made Manny they broke the mold. Anyway you crack it, you can see he loves the game and is determined to have a good time. He smiles, makes faces, goofs around with the guys and sometimes disappears into the Green Monster. (What does he do back there, anyway??) Manny does things Manny’s way ….. You gotta let Manny do his thing, because when you do, good things can happen.

You wouldn’t say Manny looks like your typical baseball player…far from it...no clean cut Babe Ruth look here. When you see Manny standing at the plate….you see a dude with a scruffy face, wearing a uniform that looks big and baggy. His hair is in dreadlocks and sometimes it’s tinted red, and when he takes off his helmet, he’s sportin’ a do-rag. Heck, if he wasn’t wearing number 24 – we would think he was the lastest rappa with his hit single: “Hit Manny, like it’s your birthday.” He takes a lot of crapola from the press from time to time about “Manny being Manny”, but jeez that’s what we like about him!

After the game Manny was quoted as saying, “I haven’t been right all year round. But I guess, when you don’t feel good and you still get hits, that’s when you know you’re a bad man.” Manny, you are our bad man!!!

Life In a Fish Vase

I have to tell you about our amazing fish. We don’t have a name for him other than Fishy, so Fishy is the best fish ever, with the most unoriginal name. Wait a minute, I called Fishy a “he." Maybe he’s a “she." I'm not sure how to tell the difference between a boy and girl fish.

Fishy is a goldfish that I bought at Petco about 3 years ago for the reasonable price of $2.10. I keep him in a large hurricane vase on the top of a chest of drawers in the middle of our foyer. I guess most people would have put a nice candle in the vase, or something decorative, but that makes too much sense.

Fishy has grown remarkably large over the years and the mirror behind the vase makes Fishy look mammoth. Fishy likes to make his presence known...so he splashes around and makes a lot of racquet...which I hear from other rooms in the house. I love to pet him, just to let him know how much I appreciate him.

When I change his water, I put him in a little plastic cup and pet him on his fishy back before I put him back into his home. He actually feels quite smooth and not scalely, at all. Occasionally I have mishaps when changing the water, and drop him in the sink. I always rescue him before he slides down the drain to the garbage disposal. Besides the toilet is a better resting place.

We also bring Fishy with us when we go to the beach. (It’s always good to get back to your roots.) We transfer him to a small plastic fishbowl …..(that’s his traveling bowl)…and wedge him in between our beach chairs and beach towels for the ride.

I realize this story about our fish probably seems a little odd - especially coming from Kat – cuz you know the story, if I was a real cat, Fishy would have been history by now!!!!

I Wanna Be A Rock Star!

Two nights ago I saw Bruuuuuuuuce with Paul and 2 good friends at a sold-out concert - That would be Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band! They are the very definition of cool! Amazing! Do I need to say anything more??

I have always thought it would be the ultimate to be a rock star…Some people might prefer to be a professional athlete or dancer, but for me it is a rock star…by far! When I was in high school….I wanted to be, Carole I Feel the Earth Move Under my Feet King, frizzy hair and all! Then I admit, I faltered in-between…I wanted to be Barbra Streisand…I didn’t want her nose, but totally wanted her voice. .she’s not exactly a rocker, but definitely a presence. I used to sing Barbra Streisand songs at the top of my lungs…isn’t that how they were meant to be sung? Then I wanted to be Melissa Etheridge. OMG, I still think I want to be her today. Not her lifestyle (not that there’s anything wrong with it), she can have that, but give me her talent. Her husky voice and the way she rocks on her guitar – now that is cool. And she is a Berklee grad which makes her very special in this household. If I was a guy rocker dude….I would definitely wanna be Dave ultimate jammer Matthews. For a young cool rocker guy….I would be Chris Bend and not Break Carraba from Dashboard Confessional. Don’t worry about me though….this only occurs when I go to a concert. It’s not like I’m gonna run off with the band or anything!!!

Okay, so here’s the closest I come to rock stardom….I sing the national anthem at sporting events. I realize it isn’t exactly a rockin’, jammin’ song, but just think about it for a sec……..people stand for you, know all your words, sing along with you, and even hoot, holler, whistle and clap for you when you finish. That sounds exactly like a Bruuuuuuuuuuce concert. So, if that is the closest I can get…....... OH SAY CAN YOU SEE, BABY!!!!!!!!

This One's for You - October 3, 2007

Happy Anniversary to my Husband! We have been married, wedded, hitched, tied, knotted, ball and chained for 26 years – wow, that’s a long time. It is interesting, the words used to refer to being married… they sound so torturous…But lucky for me, it’s not! Last year we marked our milestone 25th anniversary with a “once in a lifetime” trip to Italy. The only problem is, I want to go again….not once! So how do you follow up a trip to Italy? – with golf and a nice dinner, of course. Okay, not exactly Italy, but we’ll probably be eating Italian food. Being the traditionalists that we are – we do our thing….over and over. And if you want to know what I am talking about, come over and look in the windows and you will see:

Me in my wedding dress – yep, I’ll actually be wearing it. It sounds a little strange, but I put it on every year (the years that I was pregnant, I had it wiiiide open in the back). I keep my dress stored away in a blue Rubbermaid plastic container in the basement. I have to admit, it is not as white as it used to be. Then my hubby and I dance to our special song by Barbra Streisand, “Something so right.” Chels, Col, and Bri sit on the couch and watch as we dance around the room. When the kids were little, they found the whole thing very interesting and sat there with big eyes. When they got older they would roll their eyes, make faces and jeering comments…. “You actually wore that on your wedding day? That’s how you guys danced? Do we have to sit here anymore?” Funny thing is, now the 2 in college will call us: “Happy Anniversary, mom and dad! You wore your wedding dress and did your dance, didn’t you?”

Paul is a great husband to go along with the hooopla… (although I think he wants to make sure I can still get into the dress.) I look forward to his card ….he always writes something so beautiful, loving and sentimental. This is when I cry….a nice cry, not an ugly, nose running cry. So if you peek in the windows tonite….you will get a glimpse of Kat and Paul still doing “Something so right.”

How do you talk to your dog?

Tone of voice is everything! The following is to be read in a sweet sappy voice: “OOOh Duncans…Come here my sweet crappy Duncan. Get over here my stupid dog…just look at you…you look ridiculous…. you have a silly haircut…all the other dogs are laughing at you. No barking your stupid fool head off.” Why do I feel compelled to say these things to my dog, all in a sweet, nice voice? “Hey goofy dog, get your chubby butt over here.” Yup, he is eating every word of it …his tailing is wagging faster and faster. “Oh, Duncabunks, you pain in the rump roast …want a treat? You silly poop head, how’s my dumb puppy?” Tone of voice IS everything!!

But us humans are a little smarter than our four-legged friends. Yep, it’s all in the tone. I ask my son if he is going to bed before 2 in the morning while at college and he replies, “Surrrrrre Mom” and I know what he’s really saying is, “You need a reality check Mom – Get a life!” I say to my daughter, after a friendly little discussion about her money spending at college, “ Thank you darling for being so understanding.” And she says, “No. Thank YOU." What she is really saying is, “you’re such a pain – get off my back!” Allrighty, I get the message… I can’t be fooled ...I’m no 4-legged animal. (although once, when I hiked, Duncan blew right by me and I actually wished I had four legs instead of my measly two!)

Rabibit, Rabbit, Rabbit

"Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit" is a very key saying/superstition for our family. It is said by everyone in our family on the first day of the month for good luck. And to get the very, very BEST ever kind of luck, the kind of luck where you say, “Man, I am a lucky dog," you have to have it be the very first thing you say when you wake up. So this morning, my eyes popped open about 3 a.m. and I said OUT LOUD, “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” Does that make me a weirdo or set to win the lottery?? Actually I decided to google “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” to find out. And “Presto” – pulled out a bunny - there is a whole google page on it….so you see we are quite normal after all! It says that the superstition has been around since 1420 in England, maybe even since the 1200’s. We have, however, changed it so it is still good luck when you tell others to say it. "Don't forget to say, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, ” we remind each other. “Oh yea, duh, I said that already.” So then the text messages go around with Chels and Colin….rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!! This is our version on a superstition that has been around for eight hundred years. So Happy October 1st and rabbit, rabbit, rabbit to everyone and theirs!!! Or if you prefer, Bunny, Bunny, Bunny….

OMG MY BFF JILL

Have you noticed how IMs, and texting have shortened words? I totally understand how it has evolved…it’s so much easier and faster to type “MYOB”, then to write….”mind your own business.” But when I read a statement in The Hartford Courant from an 18 year old girl who is facing life in prison in taking part in a killing of a random city man….I have to say, I was surprised. Her statement read: “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail. I feel so bad 4 the guy and his family!” See what I’m talking about here? I bet my subscription to People magazine, that she didn’t even realize she put the number 4 in there.

My kids type so fast and shorten their words that as a POS (parent over shoulder) ….I can’t follow (isn’t that the idea?)….Omg g2g my bff jill is calling. LOL :-) Granted they do this on their cell phones and the computer, but I’m hoping it doesn’t cross over. I just hope someday when they fill out a job application, they don’t put: Johnson 4 hire. Gr8 worker. Willing 2 work ova time.

You know I do remember back in the day, we said stuff like: “Far out Man! We had a bitchen tubular time at the disco. Can you dig it! Gotta split. Catch you on the Flip-side.” Was this any better??

Or how about the two together….Really decent, my bff Jill and I boogied down last nite in da club. We got down wit J and his homies. OMG! Gag me with a spoon! Dude, get real…that’s totally radical. Are you JK? G2G! You splittin’ already? Be there or be square.……CYA…Keep on Truckin…PZ

What Are You Watching?

Have any of you seen the new show Gossip Girl? It is new on the CW network and it is nasty, nasty, nasty…..3 nasties! I decided to watch the pilot because it was created by the same guy who created the O.C. Okay, the O.C. would not be considered brilliant work, but I wanted to watch what my teenagers were watching and before I knew it….I was watching along. Who can resist a story where you see the rich and famous rise and fall (kinda like reading People magazine every week or reading Star Magazine, not that I would do that or anything.)

So I was thinking Gossip Girl would be similar to the O.C., which it is at first glance…young, very attractive boys and girls in high school, expensive and cool clothes, shots of wealthy and privileged lives, and very hip and great looking parents, of course…you know, like a normal slice of life. But the difference in this show is WOW over the top from the O.C. It took the O.C. a few years and many episodes to get where the Gossip Girl’s pilot started.

Check it out….First, we are supposed to believe these kids are in high school (ages 14 – 18)…kids are looking way more mature today, because these kids look to be 21-25! Then you see scenes where they are dressed to the Nines (anybody say that anymore?) and are at the bar ordering drinks. They are actually sitting at the bar sipping on maritinis. Huh, where do “kids in high school” go to the bar and get served martinis? (Maybe because they all look 25….now I get it.) Isn’t it a school nite? Oh, then a young innocent girl at a party gets saved from an experienced older boy who is about to pounce on her (and you know what I am talking about.) She texts her brother for help and he runs in to save the day. Then a flashback occurs …shows one of the boys cheating on his girlfriend with his girlfriend’s best friend on a counter and they’re not sharing a soda …. Bingo, this is where the show earns its 3 nasty rating!!!

So to say I didn’t watch it again the next week would be an out and out lie….I had to….I had to make sure it wasn’t really a nasty show and that maybe things would be different. So I watched…Nope, I was wrong, it’s the same nasty show it started out to be. Maybe next week, it will be different.

A Little Privacy Here.....Please

Chelsea went to a big, excuse me, I mean huge football game at her university last Saturday night. I say it is huge because there is absolutely nothing more important than their football….and 92,000 screaming fans can’t be wrong. And albeit (love that cool little word) it was televised on ESPN so maybe that gives them a little validation. Anyway, Brianna was watching the game on TV with a couple of her friends and knew Chelsea was at the game so she was checking out the faces in the crowd as the camera panned over the sportsfans. She decided to give Chelsea a little call. “Chelsea”, Brianna yells over the phone, “I can see you on TV!” (wink, wink to her friends)
Chelsea yells back, “ Oh no, really…..you can? I’m in the bathroom!!”

Usernames, Passwords, and PINs, Oh My!!

To know me is to know some of my pet peeves….here’s one. (I better be careful spelling that word or it could look like perves and my kids might have a problem with that!) Okay, the business of usernames, passwords and PINs is enough to send me over Niagara Falls without the barrel. Am I the only one who seems to have a problem with this? Come on, I think not.

So you go to sign on to an account; bank account, ebay account, Mrs.Fields Chocolate chip Cookie account, blog account…you name it account. Sometimes they assign you a user name and other times you get to choose. So you choose (atleast I do) something that resembles your name or personality…okay, let’s go with Wonderwoman…Then you have to choose a password. Through the years I have tried to use the same one….but sometimes the computer requires a number too…so I pick a lucky favorite number. Sounds simple enough, but not so fast! Sometimes my personality changes and my lucky number changes. Then before I know it I am losermom0 or 8thewholething. When I go back, I try to get the right combination of the username with the right password and this is not easy. Then when you add in the PIN….forget it!

So what does everyone else do to remember these combinations? Any helpful hints? Isn’t it enough that I remember to pick Brianna up after practice?

eBay Mania

I went on eBay yesterday and was the highest bidder!! I wanted a decorative oar for the wall (odd, but true) from Pottery Barn but it was actually sold out. I guess there were other people out there who like to decorate with oars?? So I decided to give eBay a try. Sure enough, some goofball was selling a brand new oar and had it listed with the initial bid 20 dollars over the amount that Pottery Barn was selling it for. Is this person so clairvoyant they knew there would be a run on oars? How does this happen? So whose the goofball now?

Anyway, I had my mind set on getting this oar, had decided where I wanted to hang it, and just knew I had to have it. So I bid the asking price…69 dollars. Okay, I’m feeling good about it all….20 dollars more than Pottery Barn, but heck, it was sold out. Only 12 more hours and then it would be all mine….I’m salivating now……eBay is telling me I’m the highest bidder and currently in the lead. How cool is that? After 6 hours, I check my eBay account and see someone has dared to outbid me…70 dollars! So I return the favor, 71 dollars….back to you sucker! Then another bid automatically appears on my screen….104 dollars. What?

So I ask anyone what they think….Do you think that buyers make bids through another screen name for their own stuff just to jack up the price? Then if they end up being high bidder, they just put it up for sale another day. Okay, I am just wondering, but couldn’t this happen or is this just my suspicious mind at work? wahaha

Well, you know how the ole eBay story ends…..I got the oar……105 dollars plus shipping…. But I am feeling good about it…because eBay tells me “You’re a winner!” I wonder what else I can win????

Tales of an Average Family of 5

What to do……..

Well, let’s see…..What should I do now? My “to-do” list has lots of stuff on it, clean the bathrooms, (why did I insist on having more than one?), go to Stop and Shop, do the laundry.  I don’t want to do any of that. I find all those chores irritating, but I guess that is the real meaning of chores, isn’t it? So here I sit thinking, “Hey, maybe I’ll start a blog and avoid doing chores for a little while. Then maybe I will feel like doing them later.”…..there’s always hope! For some reason, I like writing online. I have three children and the two that are away at college have said that I am much more fun to talk to online (very interesting comment)….we’ll see if anyone out there agrees….

Another thing I like to do when I write online is to use dot, dot, dot, like this………… For some reason, it seems like such a natural thing to do. It is a good segway …..so I can change subjects….. way to think while I write….. like a written “ummmmm”….. and it gives people a chance to take a breath when they are reading. (You breathe when you read, don’t you?)

My name is Kathy-Anne or like my husband and good friends call me, Kat. Actually, K-A-T were my initials before I was married…so I guess you would say it is a fitting nickname. I am still not sure why my parents gave me a double name….we were not from the south, unless you consider that Vermont is south of Canada. It also contains a hypen. How many names do that? Then there is the business of no middle name…….huh, what were they thinking? So, I like the name, Kat although I do not have a cat. I don’t dislike cats, but I just don’t have one….I own a dog. His name is Duncan and is a Portuguese water dog. I don’t know how fitting the name Duncan is for a Portuguese water dog. My sister-in-law's family got a dog like ours and named him Magellan…now that makes sense….a Portuguese explorer….why couldn’t we have thought of that?

So it is the fall and the kids are back to school. I am a stay-at-home mom on the brink of an empty nest. It is good that I have 3 kids that are spaced out over 5 and a half years, that way my nest doesn’t get dumped all at once. I honestly do not know how moms of twins, or triplets do it.…

My oldest child, Chelsea, is a senior in college (not wanting to graduate in May and join the real world….unless you are talking about the reality TV show.) She likes to think of herself as the boss of the kids…and the other two let her think she is. She has earned the name “Big C” given to her by her brother and his friends….she commands respect! She has also stated that she is the guinea pig kid child…she may have a point.

Colin is a sophomore in college. I call him Colinboy...it's just one of those family things that happen...probably from saying goodnight...remember John boy on the TV show, The Waltons?  He loves playing his bass guitar and performing in bands. Colin has been referred to as “6 degrees of Colin". Colin seems to know many different people from many different circles, and if you don’t know him, he knows you….does that make any sense??? Okay, quickie story to give you an example…We, the family, were at a Red Sox game and I looked over and saw a man eating an enormous piece of meat, that looked something like a chicken or turkey bone….I’m talking the whole animal and it was very gross. Food was falling from his mouth and the grease was dripping from his face, that he didn’t even bother to wipe off. So being the immature mom that I can be …I say, “Colin, check that man out to your left!” He looks and says, “Oh, I know that man!” I say, “Come on Colin, how is that possible?” He watches the game for a while and then 10 minutes later says to me, “I remember, I’ve seen him at the Y….he goes to the same YMCA I do.” There you have it, enough said about Colinboy.

Then last but not least is Brianna. First of all, she does not like when either I say or write the 3 kids names and say “Chelsea, Colin and Brianna”…she insists I take the “and” out. I guess she feels like it makes her seem like an after thought, but I have to explain that it really distinguishes her and gives her the spot light that she so deserves! Our name for Brianna, other than Bri which the kids at school logically call her…..is Wish, Wishy, Sweet Wish, Wish Queen or Wish Queen of America! Okay, it is a little corny, but when she was really little, I would sing the Disney song “A dream is a wish your heart makes”…and then whisper good night “sweet wish”. Anyway, Wishy is a junior in High School and I am trying to hold onto her before she also leaves for college and leaves me to me!!

So those are my 3 kids, nicknames and all. And I do have a husband, Paul…I don’t have any cutesy nicknames for him like love bug, or babe. Sometimes I call him Pauly or PaulA, as a joke, because on his airline boarding passes his middle initial "A" is run together with his first name and people think it is PaulA….for some reason, I think this is funny! But, other times when he’s traveling, out on the road…(or flying) and he is stuck in airports with late hours, I call him Willy……you know, Willy Loman from Death of a Salesman. He's a great guy working hard for the money. After all, he’s got 3 kids and a wife, who hates to do chores, to feed!

I should end now….I plan on sharing stories of everyday life from an average family and life as I see it (no major life issues solved here)....so …I’ll be back. Not like the Jack Nicholson scary I’ll be back thing, but I’ll talk to ya soon………katOUT