Got NYE Plans?

The number one question asked today is: What are you doing for New Year’s Eve? Unless you’ve planned something in advance…like a trip to Times Square…or a get-away…you are probably in the same boat as everyone else…the “USS Nothing Really.”

That pretty much sums up what most people have planned in advance for New Year’s Eve. And everyone is looking for options...so they’re not putting their money down, figuratively and literally, unless forced.

For some reason because it’s New Year’s Eve…people feel like their plan should be “really something” instead of “nothing really.” You can’t stay home, drink beer from a funnel, eat wiener schnitzel, and pass out by 10:30 pm. That’s so pedestrian.

You have to don your cool clothing, get together with cool people, clink cool glasses and stay up wicked late. (That is, if you live in Boston.) As the year comes crashing to an end, you have to yell the countdown as you watch the ball drop…5-4-3-2-1. At midnight, you have to kiss everyone near you and risk a monster cold three days later.

Anywhoooooooooooo

This. I. Know. Over the years, we’ve had some successful New Year’s house parties. When one of your guests rides the reindeer you have as a decoration …you definitely know you’ve had a good party.

For some reason...New Year’s Eve parties tend to drag on and on before midnight. But once the clock tower strikes midnite...it’s suddenly 3 am...and someone is mounting Rudolph. Ya hoo.

I always have mixed emotions on New Year’s Eve watching Dick Clark’s ball drop in New York City. And this year will be no exception. Happy...that I am not shoulder-to-shoulder with 20,000 maniacs in Times Square. Sad...when I hear the depressing Auld Lang Syne song. (Couldn’t we get a happier song?) And perplexed...that Dick Clark is still on....(Did someone say train wreck?) WTH?

So PaulA and I are working on our options for this New Year’s Eve so we won’t be stuck aboard the "USS Nothing Really."

This. I. Know. For. Sure. Tonight we’ll awkwardly watch an awkward Dick Clark. I’ll cry when I hear Auld Lang Syne. And we’ll reminisce about the New Year’s Eve when our reindeer decoration was ridden like nobody’s business.

Happy New Year!

Armed and Dangerous

I have a bad case of gadget philia. I LOVE new technology. I could be considered a gadget guru. Thank God I wasn’t born in an era when the biggest advancement was the metal washboard. As far as I’m concerned, even washing machines that wash and dry could use some advancements. They should at least fold.

The latest piece of technology I’ve added to my arsenal is the “Droid.” I love everything about the Droid...especially the name. And when a text comes in...it even says “Droid” in a robot voice. Love it! I am now so loaded down with technology that I am considered armed and dangerous.

I hadn’t planned on adding the Droid, but I found myself in a Verizon store because Wishy conveniently needed a new phone two days before Christmas (after Santa had already made and wrapped all her gifts.) Poor Wishy’s Blackberry was making her blue because it wouldn’t charge anymore. (Wait, I wonder if that pencil I saw her sticking into the side of her Blackberry had anything to do with the problema?)

Verizon was offering a twofer...or like they call it a “Buy one, Get one free”...or like I call it..."Buy one, Spend more money." And of course, Bri wanted to trade-up...not sideways. What’s the fun with an even Steven trade? Much more fun to go with an advance Lance trade-up. (Lance is always more fun than Steven.) So it was One Droid for Wishy...One Droid for Kat.

There is so much to know about the Droid, a device that can do just about anything. You can sit and play around with it for hours. And you should, otherwise it would be like owning a Porsche and never driving it over 40mph. Or owning a computer and only using it for email.

Anywhoooooooooooooooo......................................

Now I own a device for every mood.

Desktop...Old school mood
Laptop...trendy Starbucks cool mood
iPad...app mood
iPod... chillin’ with my earbuds mood
Droid phone...multitask mood

Granted, there is a lot of overlap between my devices...so I probably don’t need them all...but I could never part with anyone of them. They are my children. I love them all equally.

But if my wash machine could wash, dry, fold, balance my checkbook, and make me look 10 years younger...I would quickly do an advance Lance.

Merry Christmas

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I am currently out of my blog chair. For some reason...my family is insisting. I will resume the blogging growing ass position very soon. Oh, and please feel free to leave any comments. I don’t bite. Remember…Kat’s just scratch.

Merry Christmas to YOU and YOURS.

T'was the Night Before Christmas

I miss having little kids at home believing in Santa. The excitement, the anticipation, the sugar-high. Sweet little ones in footy pajamas…going to bed with visions of sugar plums, tiny reindeer, and Santa in their heads.


Question: Who first told your kids that Santa Claus and his 8 reindeer were a bogus, fictitious sham? I would venture to say, they were told by someone at school...someone who enjoyed every moment of ruining the charade. I’m guessing that kid had his own Santa fantasy ripped prematurely from him, so he was returning the favor. Merry Jingle Balls Christmas.

We never discussed the existence, non-existence, or existentialism of Santa with our three and they never questioned us…maybe because Jingle Balls Brian wasn’t in their class to spill the Santa bag…. or maybe because our kids didn’t want to mess up a good gig.

So they kept the charade going: (Okay, so the ‘rents say there’s a big guy in a ratty ole suit who flies around the world in a sleigh pulled by 8 tiny reindeer…and he shimmys down 8 trillion chimneys in ONE night. As long as the payday keeps coming…why open our mouths and ruin a good thing?)

I’m not so sure that our three children didn’t get together and conference, “What do ya think? Katwoman and PaulA as Santa??? Nah, they couldn’t be Santa. Although…Kat is filling out those red velvet pants.”


Anywhooooo……..……….


In our house…WE BELIEVE in the true meaning of Christmas…and also in the spirit of giving and sharing...St. Nick Style.



Countdown to Christmas – Day TWENTY-FOUR

Merry Christmas Eve

Santa Claus is coming…to a hood near you.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Christmas will be here in two days…ready or not. Hopefully you’re ready…or almost.


Christmas is a happy, festive time of year…but before you can get down to the business of fun, there are many “chores” to be done. Which, if any, is your favorite?


Could it be bringing up the boxes stored in the basement, putting up outside lights, hanging garland and wreaths, decorating the inside of the house, finding a tree, setting the tree up, stringing lights, putting on ornaments, sending cards, baking cookies, coming up with gift ideas, shopping for gifts, dealing with crowds at the Taj MaMall, standing in long lines at the Post Office, paying the bills?

Are we having fun yet?

My favorite worstest job …is stringing lights on the tree. Yep…lights out, it is definitely the worst. Somehow I have become the resident tree Lighting Designer…but that’s probably because PaulA has already tied the dang thang to the roof of the car, squeezed it through the back door, moved the furniture around, put it in the stand, and worked to get it straight. And then have me say… “It’s crooked.”

Are we having fun yet?

So it’s only fair that my job is to wrestle with tree lights. Untangle them from square knots. Test strands to make sure they’re working. Get the female and male parts to “hook-up.” (Oooh la la.) Balance on a stool to reach the top. Get stabbed by bristly needles.

Are we having fun yet?


Oh, and my second favorite worstest job is…facing the woman at the Post Office. She can scare a Kat away any day of the year…but during the holidays…she drinks the mean juice.

Are we having fun yet?


Anywhooooooo………………..


Hopefully your “chores” are done and you can kick back and enjoy…so you’re having fun…NOW.


Christmas Countdown – Day TWENTY-THREE


Walking around in a joyous mood…chores are done. “It’s a Wrap.”

Scary Santa

Back in the day, our kids had a special request on Christmas Eve: “Santa, Do not come in. Leave the presents at the door.”

They were scared out of their minds by The BIG Guy. Was it his rugged rough looks? The long, white natty beard, rosy wind-burned SLASH alcohol-flushed cheeks, the Jack Nicholson-ish twinkle in his eye, the Heavy Weight Champion of the World belt buckle?

I actually think they were okay with his looks...they have seen their mother without make-up. They just didn’t want this strange man entering our house.


Think about it what it’s like…you’re 8 years old and you’re lying in your bed on Christmas Eve. You know the stranger will be creeping around your house in a matter of hours. And you’re supposed to sleep?

Most people think kids can’t sleep on Christmas Eve because they’re shaking with excitement…thinking about the toys Santa will bring. But in fact, they’re shaking with terror…remembering those stranger/danger talks.


They’ve been taught all year about the dangers of strangers…and now suddenly it’s okay for a creep to enter the house in the middle of the night while the whole house sleeps? Now all the talks go out the window??? Or down the chimney?


Anywhoooooooo……….

On Christmas morning…after our kids saw the truck load of toys that were dumped on them…the stranger/creep was deemed a good guy. They decided “Hey, not all strangers are bad. The creeper is a keeper.”

Which was cause for my concern…when a couple of days later in Blockbuster, I noticed the kids gravitating towards a large man in a ratty bad suit, donning a black chapeau.

It was time to have “that talk” again.


Christmas Countdown – Day TWENTY-TWO

“I’ll be home for Christmas.”….Those lyrics express my favorite part about Christmas.
Wishy is home. Big C is home. Colinboy is a homie. (jk) Can’t wait until Colinboy comes home and completes us.

Man VS Tree

Who hasn’t had a decorated Christmas tree fall over…at least once? A Christmas tree disaster is a horrifying event.

To enter the room and find your tree flat, horizontal on the floor, is like entering a police crime scene…and seeing the chalk outline of a dead body. I know this because it has happened to us 2 and a half times. (The tree silly, not dead body.)

So you were wondering…How is it possible for a tree to fall half a time? So nice of you to ask, thank you. Well…I caught the tree in the act of falling before it hit the floor…so technically this makes it half a time.


I had just finished putting on the last glass ornament and the 12 foot tall, 5 foot wide tree started falling. I quickly stuck my hand through the branches and grabbed hold of the trunk. And then screamed for help.

But help never came.


The kids weren’t home and PaulA was in the basement running on the treadmill …watching the Patriots on TV with the volume on 50. There I stood, with my face planted in the tree. The pine needles smelled great...but they hurt like hell as they scratched my arms and poked my eyes. The tree got heavier and heavier, as I listened to the sound of PaulA's pace on the treadmill and the Patriots game in the distance.

Anywhooooooooooooooooooooo………………………..

As out-of-luck would have it…that day PaulA decided to be treadmill marathon man so we both worked up a sweat with every minute that passed. Finally, PaulA stopped and heard my distant cries for HELP and came to my aid. I had held on through a decidedly tough brush of Man vs Tree...and perservered.

I was NOT about to give in. Over my dead body, there would be a Christmas. Put the chalk away....this was not to be another crime scene.



Christmas Countdown – Day TWENTY-ONE


This is a FIRST that I’ve been this organized for Christmas...and I don’t even drink Red Bull. Big C comes home at midnight! Gonna watch UCONN Women’s basketball tonight. They are ONE WIN away from the longest winning basketball streak EVER. Go UCONN.