Together again?

Happy Thursday!

It's that time of the every five years (is there a word for that?)? Class reunion time! I realize that I date myself by willingly publishing which reunion it is, but that's the least of my worries. It's the big 2-5!! As I write this I am totally conflicted as to whether I want to go or not. See, Facebook has created a whole new angle on the "should I or shouldn't I" front. Now you can search names and see photos of pretty much everyone you went to school with. Of course, this can be a good thing or a bad thing. In the case of my picture, it's an OK thing. I am terrible at taking pictures and then getting them on Facebook. It's so awkward taking a picture of yourself with your own cell phone. You're holding it at arm's length, trying not to have it wiggle, getting your finger on the button and making sure you're at least SORT OF centered. And it's a given that you're going to have some goofy look on your face.... how can you not? You're smiling at a cell phone! It's WEIRD! My result ended up with a picture so close you can count my pores.... but you know the upside of that? My weight remains a mystery! That part I like. For most people the camera adds 10 pounds. For me, it adds 30 (on a good day, a VERY good day!) which means I am more than happy to go with the close-up.

Some of the reunion events sound fun ... specifically the tailgating before the football game and the pizza party after. But a Saturday golf outing? Are they serious? If you read the info it assures everyone that five years ago it was SO MUCH FUN! Even if you don't golf! Right!!! OK, I don't golf. My experience with golf does not go beyond high school when we did golf in gym. All of us would line up in a long row outside and just hit balls. While you might see what I am about to write as slightly less than honest, I prefer to think of it as CREATIVE. I would keep an extra ball in my pocket, swing my club, act like it went really far out there, walk out to where I "hit" it and drop a ball in A or B range, cha-ching. I wasn't the only one doing it of course.... oh, great. Now 25 years later I have a guilty conscience!! Well at least I wasn't like (uh, let's call her Nancy for sake of me getting sued) who filled her entire forearm inside with French vocab words and their translations and then pushed up her sweater sleeve during the test. Anyway, I am one MEAN mini golf player (and I STILL know the French word for windshield wipers) ... but apparently my old classmates are too good for windmills and giant fiberglass clown heads. Snobs!

Who knows. RSVP's are due soon. I've only heard from one good h.s. friend of mine and she's not sure if she's going. Such enthusiasm! Guess it's the nature of the beast. The funny thing is, if George Clooney was in my class, I'd be there with bells on and drinking water and eating only carrots for the next few weeks! But no, no George Clooney at my high school.

I hate making big decisions. Guess this calls for the Magic 8 ball.... AGAIN!

Have a great day,

Cindy

How can you not love the zoo????

Hello friends!!!

Do you love taking a trip to the zoo? I do! I really can't imagine not loving the zoo. We have a family membership to Chicago's Brookfield Zoo, about 40 minutes from our house. While we don't go as often as I like, it's always an adventure when we do go. We're thinking about going Monday, which led me to thinking about my most recent trip there.

While the zoo is always eventful, last time (July) was one of the most bizarre yet. We had just gotten into the new bear exhibit (VERY cool), and are standing on a slightly raised area looking at the underwater view of the polar bears. My daughter, referring to a guy standing in front of us, says, "That guy looks famous." I'm busy filling out a survey related to the exhibit (anything for a free pencil!!!) so I look at this guy. He was big. Huge. Very athletic looking. I thought maybe she was onto something, but I hadn't quite pegged it. Then he turns around, looks, my way and I thought I might just about DIE.... it was Chicago Cubs first baseman Derek Lee (OK, I know he got traded a couple of weeks ago. I know this because it was a day of mourning in our home). I am a big time Cubs fan (and yes, I can prove that because I named my son after one of them!) so my brain is about to explode. Realizing it's my daughter's favorite player, I lean over to her and say, "Holy **something**, that's Derek Lee." Now she's running around in circles like her butt's on fire. I'm frozen in place, she's freaking out. It was quite the sight as you can imagine. We of course become stalkers of the first degree, until it happened.... my image of D Lee got ruined. His wife changed their baby's diaper and she gave it to him to throw it away. Didn't she get the memo? Derek Lee is way too good for that! What? That's a multi-million dollar hand... you have people for that... PUH-LEASE!!!!!! I thought about giving her a piece of my mind, but getting ejected from the zoo and having my membership revoked is not the legacy I want to walk away with! He hung around the bear exhibit for a long time.... which meant I pretended to be VERY interested in bears for a long time. To this day my friends are disappointed that I didn't ask for an autograph. To sign what? My zoo program? A dirty tissue? I'm a Cub fan with pride!

After we got done there, we had time for one last exhibit. We decided to head over to the Australia house. We're just about to head inside the building and this CRAZY lady comes running out, arms flailing, screaming, "The wombat is dead! The wombat is dead!" I was still in la-la land about the Cub I saw in the bear exhibit (LOL) so this chick scared me to death, caught me totally of guard! "The wombat is dead" ... is that code for something? Come on, that DEFINITELY isn't something you hear every day! As she passes by, she says to me, "I'm going to get someone!!" Yes, run fast! Get the wombat specialist! Geez. If it is DEAD, is it a crisis? Well, you know I had to go and see for myself. It's pitch dark in there and is one of those setups where you look down to see the animal below you. I can tell you this much... he was either dead or sleeping pretty darned deeply.... flat on his back legs extended straight up in the air. I was watching for some sort of twitch, a sign of movement. Nothing. A few minutes later, two zoo people come in (couldn't tell you if they were custodians, vets or parking lot attendants) and start staring. So now there are three of us staring. I asked one of them, "Does he always sleep like that?" She smiled and walked out. What the heck does that mean? I'm a big girl, I can handle the news that he died and went to "Wombat Heaven." Nothing. Come on!!! Because you know I'm going to get hounded the whole way home... "Mom, do you think that wombat really died?" "Do you know if they can get another wombat?" "Do they really sleep with their legs up in the air?" Geez Louise. I did go to college, but I did not major in wombats, yet you KNOW how kids are... they will expect you to have all the answers. A side note.... I will tell you that I would rather talk about dead wombats with her than what those LOUSY zebras were doing! For Pete's sake. Show a little modesty guys!!!! Get a room! I'm not a photographer with National Geographic and this isn't Animal Planet. I'm still working on getting that visual out of my head.

Without a doubt, if we do go Monday, you KNOW the first thing we are going to do is to check on the wombat. But steer clear of the zebras!

Have a great night!

Cindy

Rotten Eggs

Good morning (or afternoon, or evening!),

Today is my first day home alone after everyone is back to their "usual" schedules, and I'm not volunteering at the school. The day is mine! So far so good as far as getting things done goes, and it's just now 8 a.m. My original plan was going right back to bed after my daughter left at 7, but I fought that feeling. Between you and me, however, I am sure there's a nap in my future... my NEAR future!

As most of you probably know, there is a big salmonella scare related to eggs here in the U.S. As usual is the case with me, I will not pretend to understand it all, but since I've heard about it, I have had the WORST taste for eggs over easy (which is the WORST way to eat them naturally). Why is that always the case? I am pretty sure I even dreamed about dipping toast in a nice, fresh egg over easy. In fact if I still wasn't in my pajamas right now (meaning my ratty old sweats) I would be bookin' it to Cracker Barrel (how lucky am I to live FIVE MINUTES from one????).

Anyway, this egg thing led to a HUGE dilemma this morning... one like I had NEVER encountered before! Tragic, even! I was making a batch of Fiber One bran muffins (expensive, but worth it)... I eat one with a glass of Smart Balance milk each morning (don't give me too much credit on this one... it's my way of consoling myself that while I will most likely blow my diet the rest of the day, I had a GOOD breakfast, LOL). I was down to my last one, so time to make the muffins! All you need for the mix is vegetable oil, water and two eggs. Seemed harmless enough. I laid out my Transformer and SpongeBob muffin papers (OK, while I LOVE SpongeBob, the Transformer ones were nothing more than a value purchase at the party store) and began to mix. Lah dee dah, I'm mixing away. Then I start to spoon the mix into the muffin papers. My genetic makeup includes 25 percent Slob, which meant that the mix soon was all over my hands, the counter and since I was stirring it over a stack of cookie sheets, it was all over them, too (Martha Stewart would kick my butt to the curb in 5 seconds if we ever found ourselves in the kitchen together). Anyway, the logical thing to do would be to lick the mix off my fingers (and possibly the counter AND baking pans.... really!). Then it hit me like a Mack truck. I CAN'T! That's raw egg! I can't eat the batter! Stupid egg farmers! Thanks for ruining what could likely be the biggest culinary pleasure of my month! And I'm pretty sure I've used up what was left of my self-control for the week, too. On the upside, it's amazing how much bigger each muffin ended up without me eating the batter (I'm pretty sure this is one of those hidden diet sabotage things they talk about). The whole thing was very unnatural..... can you feel my pain??

Better get going. I need to freeze my muffins (LOL, that sounds kinda weird, doesn't it?). Have a great day!

Cindy

New addicitons

Happy Monday Friends!

In the last year, I have developed several addictions. None of them are bad, nor will any land me a reality TV show (MAYBE... I'll let you decide), but one, for whatever reason is particularly embarrassing — I am hooked on the soap opera "The Young and the Restless." It all started simply enough. There's a local (Chicago) news on from 11-11:30 a.m. Following that newscast is Y & R (are you following? I'm NOT typing The Young and the Restless EVERY time, my fingers aren't getting any younger). Naturally, I would be too lazy to change the channel on the remote (I truly believe this is the lowest form of laziness), so there it would be on my TV. Coincidentally, this is also the same way I came to watch Maury (you know, the 'Who's the Daddy' guy). While my Maury addiction only lasted three years (yes, ONLY), I have a feeling I am doomed to this Y & R addiction for a lot longer.

I'll admit, on both Maury and Y and R, you have to put the logical side of your brain to sleep for an hour, and you also will say out loud during both, "OH, that's SO unrealistic!!!!!!" Does anyone really need to test FIFTEEN guys to find out who the daddy is? Like I said, that's SO unrealistic! And on Y & R, where to begin? They never work, yet are all FILTHY rich (SIGN ME UP!) and best of all, they talk to themselves OUT LOUD, and the "wrong" person always hears it and uses it against them in some sick and twisted way. Uh, maybe FACE the door when you are doing that? Guess the blue bloods have zero street smarts, huh?

I did almost quit watching it ... ALMOST. There was a story line that was pushing it even by soap standards. The one gal, let's call her Ashley (because that's her name, LOL... gotcha!) lost her baby early in her pregnancy. She goes on to have a hysterical pregnancy (have you ever been pregnant? I have, and there's nothing hysterical about it) but yet delivers a baby! Yes, a REAL baby! Turns out she was knocked out and some creepy dude stole another baby and passed it off as hers. Let's assume that can actually happen. All right. Isn't there a little uh... soreness (aka flaming hot pain!) to let you know that you just delivered a little human? Not in Genoa City! Isn't it a great town!? And this is just one reason why I watch ... it fuels the "perfect world" part of my brain.....

Let me also give a shout-out to the hot guys on Y & R..... another two dozen reasons to watch... at least! It might be the dumbest bunch of people in the world, but they sure are easy on the eyes. Mama like!

I just hope in a moment of weakness next month I don't sign up for a subscription to Soap Opera Digest during my daughter's school's magazine drive. That truly would be a cry for help!

Time to run... I need to finish Friday's episode.

Have a great week....

Cindy

Here We Go Again

Hello Friends (all 13 of you!),

My sincerest apologies to each and everyone of you reading this .... contrary to what it might seem, I was not abducted by aliens or locked away in a convent. I strayed from my devotion to blogdom, but I am 99 percent sure THIS TIME I am here to stay. Thanks for sticking around. I hope that more will follow soon.... shouldn't all your friends (who am I kidding... I'll take your enemies, too) be allowed to benefit from my sarcastic (and sometimes) side-splitting look at life and all it throws at us?

So much has happened in the year since I've last written.... some of it good, some of it bad, but obviously it wasn't THAT bad because I am still alive and kickin' these keystrokes across the keyboard.

Let's see, what's what lately .... my son starts college officially on Monday. He's at a university 15 minutes away but still living on campus. It's a very odd dynamic so far, especially since he's adopted a Mr. Independent attitude (aka Mr. Not Returning Mom's Texts). So much to blog about on this topic alone! My daughter started eighth grade yesterday with a three-hour day. Make note of the date, August 20, 2010, because it was the WORST day of her life (and that is a direct quote). All it takes is an overcrowded school bus and a wishy-washy dress code (oh, much, much, MUCH more to blog about on this). The latter of her "bad day" issues found me on the phone with the superintendent. Suffice it to say, there is no consensus as to the definition of a crew neck. For fun, feel free to Google the phrase "what exactly is a crew neck shirt" (like I did) and let the confusion take hold. If you feel you have a good grasp on what a crew neck is, you probably won't want to do this because you won't know what one is when you get done. Since I wasn't expecting such a downer report, my initial response was, "It can only get better from here on out, right?" Even as I said it, I knew how ridiculous it sounded. Looks like my PASS (Parental Automatic Support System) is out of whack. Thankfully, a quick save was not far behind... "Wanna do lunch?" She's easily bought off... WHEW!

Anyway... thank you to those that stuck with me, hope to "see" you all around in the days to come. Lots to share....

Cindy