When I was a little girl I took ballet lessons, and right across the street from ballet was a candy store. One day, after ballet, my mom took me to the candy store. I can’t remember what all I got, but I do remember the candy necklace. She told me to put it in my dresser drawer and NOT to tell my little brother about it.

The next day I went to school, came home, and went straight to the hiding place of my candy necklace. What was there? The necklace string and ONE PIECE OF CANDY! I ran to my mom with my candy necklace in my hand and the next thing you know, my little brother is claiming that she told him that he could have ALL BUT ONE PIECE, and she’s saying that she told him he could have JUST ONE PIECE.

Oh the drama.

This weekend he redeemed himself and gave me a candy bracelet, A FULL CANDY BRACELET. WITH A CHARM TOO! Okay, so it’s not a necklace, but I’ll take it. It’s only taken him 30-some years to pay up.

My daughter found the candy bracelet sitting next to my computer and she was all FINDERS KEEPERS! IT’S MINE!! I had to snatch it from her hands because she obviously did not know the Candy Necklace Story. After I told her, she began negotiations with me to share the candy bracelet. SHARE IT? Oh no way my dear. Did you not listen to the story of how I shared the necklace?  I sent my brother a text message to let him know about about negotiations and he replied that he’d give her one on Monday.

She was fine with that, but added, “Mom, if it’s accidentally a candy necklace, you can have it.” She's such a sweetheart.

Help me out please, I need your advice. As a parent of a seven year old whom, in my opinion, is growing into a very nice young lady, I'm having issues with one of the friends from the neighborhood that my daughter plays with on a fairly regular basis. I won't go into all of the details, nor all of the examples of poor friendship this girl has portrayed, but yesterday, around 4:30 p.m., I believe this friend crossed the line.

Here's what happened. My daughter was practicing her violin, I was in the kitchen, and my husband was in the family room reading a book. The chair where he was sitting is right in the middle of our front window, where he has the vantage point of seeing the driveway and the front door. The neighbor friend, and another girl, walked up to the front door, rang the doorbell, then turned and ran! He shot up from the chair, ran outside, and the girls were already a yard away standing on the corner.

He yelled to them, "What did you want?"

The neighbor friend replied, "To see if Zoe could play."

However, my husband is no dummy, and retorted, "Why did you ring the doorbell and then run? It's not polite."

I don't know what her response was, but she didn't come back, and my husband did not invite her back either.

This girl is pushing my buttons, and more than that, she's reaching the limits of what I'm willing to put up with in a playmate for my daughter. Now, I'm no goody two shoes, however, I have learned from my mistakes. I realize exactly where the route I was going down in my school years took a drastic turn in a different direction. I know which girl pulled me away from my friends and before you know it, DIFFERENT PATH. I don't want this for my kid, specifically today, I don't want her to think that it's ever okay to ring someone's doorbell and then run off. Where does it go from there? Egging homes? Toilet paper in the trees? Grafitti on the driveway?

What do you think? Harmless fun, or not very good behavior for a "friend"? What would you do if your child's usual playmate rang your doorbell and then ran?

The American Girl Doll catalog has arrived at my house, and you might remember what Zoe did to the catalog last year.

You can imagine my concern when she asked me for the black Sharpie marker, right?

“Are you going to draw mustaches and beards on the dolls again?” I asked her.

“Noooooooo.” She told me, while blushing behind the pages of the catalog. “I’m going to circle the things that I want.”

I found her a marker and she started circling the dolls, the cute dresses, and a lot of dogs, cats, and other animals that the dolls now have available.

When Zoe turned six, we took her to the American Girl Doll store in Chicago and let her pick out a doll. She chose Nicki. How often does she play with Nicki? NOT OFTEN ENOUGH. So I felt it was my obligation as a mom to point out to her that she doesn’t even play with Nicki very much. To which she replied, “That’s because I don’t have any time.”

Oh really? Please, do go on….

“I have to go to school, do my homework, watch dad play Mario Galaxy, go to swimming, blah blah blah….”

She didn’t really say blah, blah, blah …. but I was stuck on WATCH DAD PLAY MARIO GALAXY and I lost focus on whatever else she was too busy doing to play with the doll for whom she was circling things for in the catalog.

Her father has been playing Mario Galaxy for weeks now! When I get home from work, the two of them are in the Green Room (that’s what we call our office/computer/game room). He’s flailing the wii-mote all over the place as Mario runs around on the screen, while she sits on the love seat and cheers him on. How many freaking levels are there to Mario Galaxy?  I’d sure like to know, because once that game is over it’ll free up a huge chunk of her time so that she can go back to playing with Nicki (and all of the circled catalog items, apparently).

I still remember the day I realized that my husband-to-be had a down comforter. It was the winter of 1995 and I was experiencing freezing cold nights in my third floor apartment. No amount of plastic on the windows could stop the breeze from seeping through into my bedroom. I had flannel sheets, and a cat, both of which provided some warmth, but he had a down comforter, and let me tell you that was exactly what was missing from my life.

I had always wanted a down comforter, but they only came in white, and my mother wouldn’t allow it due to the fact that it was white. Now, I could have easily bought a duvet to cover it, but you know, I just don’t think they were widely available in the late 80’s and early 90’s. And, I didn’t know about them either. A du-what?

I’ve established that Zoe is allergic to feathers, and I’ve removed all of the feathers from her bedroom, and the rest of the house. However, there’s a big ruffled problem in my room — and that’s the down comforter and let me count, SEVEN feather pillows on my bed. Four of them are mine, three are my husband’s, and quite honestly, he could live with just two. But I need all four.

Anyhow, I obviously need to get rid of them. I’ve only really replaced one or two pillows at a time, allowing the appropriate ‘breaking in’ period that my body needs to get used to sleeping with a different pillow. Now I’ve got to replace every single one of them!

And my comforter too! This’ll be hard as it represents our love story. Sure, it’s not the original comforter — that’s sealed up in a storage bag and placed up high in my closet — but it represents the warmth he brought to my life, and the warmth that I brought his.

Getting rid of our blankie, oh this is going to be struggle.

My daughter, Zoe, was tested for allergies this week, she’s allergic to: mites, trees (pollen), molds, and feathers. We didn’t have her tested for any food allergies, there’s only so much room on a kids back for testing. Yesterday I spent my entire afternoon cleaning and de-allergy-ing her bedroom. I’m still working on the rest of the house.

I had allergy testing done four years ago to see what was causing me to break out in hives. We determined that I’m allergic to Aleve, and I haven’t touched it since. However, I’m also highly allergic to raspberries and shrimp, which I don’t even like and don’t eat, but four years later that is what I’m still quoting as my allergies. Aleve, raspberries, shrimp. But, after Zoe’s testing it was recommended that perhaps I should pull out my testing sheet and see what else there was.

Okay. Here is my list: cats (CATS!!), grass (lovely), molds, hops, rice (RICE!!), navy beans, string beans, waxed beans, broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce (WHAT? people can be allergic to lettuce??), onion, coconut (KILL ME NOW!), hazelnut (does that include hazelnut coffee?), pork, whole eggs (if it’s in cake does that count?), allspice, cloves, cantaloupe/muskmelon, crab, and scallops.

It didn’t help that when were at the allergist I was one day into being diagnosed with bronchitis. The nurse was pretty clear with me that bronchitis is what comes after ignoring all of the HEY YOU ARE HAVING ALLERGY SYMPTOMS YOU IDIOT signs.

Really? I guess I never put the two together. Sinus and chest congestion = signs of allergies. I always waited until I was breaking out in hives, AND THEN it meant HEY! ALLERGIES!!! Only then would I take a Benadryl, Allegra, or Pepcid AC and wait to see if my face was going to swell.

Of course, my cat sleeps on my pillow, there is grass all around me outside, and we throw open the windows when it’s nice out, letting all of the pollens in the house. It looks like I have to allergy proof my own bedroom too.  

This year we have season tickets to First Stage Children's Theater. We attended our first performance yesterday afternoon, Giggle, Giggle Quack. In a word, it was fantastic! If you are a fan of the Duck and Farmer Brown series by Doreen Cronin, you'll surely enjoy it as well. If you haven't read any of Cronin's Duck books (Duck for President and Click, Clack, Moo, Cows That Type to name a couple), you are missing out on the mischievous barn animals and their note writing abilities. The play was adapted by James E. Grote, with music and lyrics by George Howe.

Imagine back to when you were a kid, left in the care of a babysitter, and all the wild things you'd convince your sitter that it was okay to do. Ice cream and popcorn before bed? YES! Staying up late to watch television? Of course! My parents always let me! 

Farmer Brown goes on vacation and leaves Duck, Hen, Pig, and Cow with his brother Bob. Bob, who is from the city, is extremely guillable and not only does he order pizza for the animals, he also hands out electric blankets to them. One morning Duck forgot to change the note that Farmer Brown left and the animals race across the barn yard in slow motion while the theme to Chariots of Fire plays. Will they get to the note in time? You'll have to see for yourself, the play runs through October 19th and my family highly recommends it.

Okay, so I went a little bit overboard on Saturday at Teavana. I was out of my beloved Honeybush Vanilla tea, and was getting dangerously low on the Mate Vana/Rooibos Chai blend. How would I begin my day without it? And that German Rock Sugar, well I needed a refill on that too. I resisted the urge to buy a Perfect Tea maker to keep at work, because I thought my husband would have a cow, but I splurged and bought three tin canisters in order to keep my tea fresh. Oh, and I then I bought a cup of Spice Nut Mate tea, because well, I really needed some caffeine.

I brought all my tea (and canisters) home, lined them up on the counter, and watched my husband do an eye roll. He knew this day was coming, the day that I needed the tin canisters. They really do keep the tea fresher than the bags. Honestly.

So that afternoon we went to Whole Foods. I had a coupon for a free Seventh Generation laundry product -- ANY product. I wanted the big huge bottle of detergent, and I knew Whole Foods had the jumbo size. We love going to Whole Foods, one of the reasons being the free samples they have out. Zoe loves the Cheese Curls, my husband loves it all, and I love the bakery. When I told them we were going to Whole Foods my husband immediately piped up that he was getting a bag of the sunflower seed cookies. I admit, they are really really good, and I was hoping there'd be samples.

We get to Whole Foods, everyone goes off in their own direction, and the next thing I know they are both coming at me with armfuls of Cheese Curls (Zoe), Grace's Best sunflower seed cookies and beer (my husband). I counted all the bags they were stuffing into the cart, and seriously, it looked like we were hosting a party. Beer, cheese curls, and cookies. I gave him an eye roll, and he says to me: "They are two for $5."

Oh whatever, how can I argue two for $5? I can't. A little bit later we passed the cookie stand. $5.49 EACH. Not two for $5. I kinda cleared my throat, "Oh hello, they aren't two for $5." Then I made him put one back.

Tonight he was rummaging around in the snack closet, stuffing handful after handful of sunflower cookies into his mouth. Then he says, "I can't believe you made me put one of those bags back. All that tea over there (and then he pointed at the tea canister section on the counter top), that was waaaaay more than $5."

I believe in signs.

For instance, whenever I see someone make a Florida U-turn I know that it’s a sign from my grandpa, who died in 2003, he taught me what a Florida U-turn was. Another sign was when I was at the grocery store on the anniversary of the day that he died and I was paying for my groceries with my debit card when a penny shot out of the change machine right in front of me. It took me a whole day to figure it out, but the coincidence that a penny dropped out of nowhere on the death anniversary of a grandpa who collected his pennies for me (and my brother) was, to me, definitely a sign.

And then there is the sign from my other grandpa, Leonard. He died in 2002, and since then I get mail addressed to him … at my house. Yes. Mail. And he didn’t even live with me. It all started about a month after he died, and its been arriving a few times a year ever since. I’m not getting personal letters or anything, in fact some might call it junk mail. However I call it a sign.

So then onto yesterday.

It was my husband’s grandma’s funeral. Twelve years ago, when we were first married, she took us to a chicken dinner at her church. She made a huge deal out of it, and it really meant a lot to her, this chicken dinner. I’ll never forget it, it was mostly because of the music. I’m pretty sure there was a strolling accordion player playing a polka. A POLKA — and for some reason I thought that was just hilarious. Anyhow, there we are, at the funeral, which was at the church of the chicken dinner.

At first I sat in a pew on the far left, then I moved to the middle second row, and finally I decided to save the third row for my husband, his brothers, and his nephews, who were all pallbearers. I was sitting on the far lefthand side of the pew, and you’d think that the men could have come in from the right, but they didn’t. As a result, my husband and his family made me scoot all the way down to the other side of the pew.

I noticed right away that there was a bulletin in the book rack in front of us. It was from Sunday, September 21st, and I thought it was odd that it was there because it was Monday, September 22nd, and usually someone goes through the pews and removes anything that doesn’t belong there — like old bulletins. You only get a bulletin on your way out of church, not before. Anyhow, at one point, most likely to take my mind off of the funeral, I decided to flip through the bulletin. It was hard to miss the blue sheet of paper folded inside of it, and my husband noticed what it said before I did: Chicken Dinner & Raffle, Polka Mass, October 5th.

And there you have it. A sign. But for who? Him? Me? Us? My husband wasn’t too convinced at first, until he searched through all of the pews after the service to confirm what I already knew: we had the only bulletin left in the pews. The pew that wasn’t our first choice, second choice, but third choice. And if the guys would have filed into the pew the way I imagined they would, my husband’s nephew would have sat there, and it would have meant absolutely nothing to him. Instead, we are left with a sign.

(Cross-posted to Thoughts Outside My Head)

A few weeks ago I wrote of my experience watching the Brewers game from a luxury suite. Today, I will be writing about my experience in section 203. On Friday night we had tickets to go to the game, again with my husband's department at work, and I didn't get the tickets to see where we were sitting until we were on the way to the game. Section 203. Well, I've already admit that I don't go to the game very often so I had no clue where these seats were. My mom, who was sitting in section 437, in the upper deck, informed me that I was on the field loge level, and that I had "good seats".

She was so wrong.

As we walked around the stadium, in search of section 203, we passed homeplate, first base, and the outfield. Huh? And then we came to Section 203. The bleachers. The freaking bleachers.

Are you kidding me? I can't sit in the bleachers. I realize that coming from the luxury box the only way to go is down, but this is the bottom as far as I'm concerned.

We found row 10, and needed to get to seats 6, 7, and 8, but they were in the middle of the row and the people who were on the end offered to just scoot on down. So they scooted down, Zoe sat down first, right next to a guy in his 20's who had clearly shaved his legs. The (drunk?) girl in front of us then turned around, stroked his legs and said to my 7 yr old: YOU PROBABLY THINK HE'S A CRAZY MO-FO.

Whoa. Did she just say "mo-fo" to my child?? So I said to her: CAN WE NOT SAY MO-FO TO MY 7 YR OLD PLEASE?

I think she gave me an eyeroll, whatever.

Then a very drunk guy comes back to the row in front of us, and as he trying to get back to his seat, the (drunk) girl notices that his fly is down -- and then she reaches inside his fly and pulls out his privates. Right there in section 203, row 9.

But wait, she wasn't just about public nudity for others, she whipped out her breast for a group photo, which I think my family may have been in the background for.

My husband got security, and then we left the section, watching the game instead from section 437, chair hopping among the 20-some seats that my family was in for my grandmother's 82nd birthday celebration -- where life wasn't quite that of a luxury box, but at least everyone was properly clothed and no one used "mo-fo" in a sentence to my kid.

Yesterday, before I left for work, I put the sheets and our duvet cover into the washing machine. I stripped the bed, throwing the sheets and pillowcases onto the floor, and then when I had the duvet off the down comforter I picked up everything and put them directly into the washing machine. When my husband got home he flipped the laundry into the dryer, so when I got home from work at 5:30 p.m. the sheets were clean and dry.

As I'm emptying the dryer, first the pillowcases, and then the sheets, which I carefully shake out because there is usually a stray sock tucked into the pockets of the fitted sheet, I find my husband's hiking shoe. It's just sitting there, in the dryer, as if it's on display or something. And it's warm, so I know that no one is playing a trick on me by tossing the shoe into the dryer when my back is turned. I hollered to him: WHY IS YOUR SHOE IN THE DRYER?? And he, of course, hollers back: MY HUH IS IN THE WHAT?? So I took his shoe to him and said: YOUR SHOE. IT WAS IN THE DRYER.

Now, I have to tell you that he's totally opposed to washing his shoes in the washing machine. According to him, that'll ruin them for sure. And I don't really want to admit that I washed his shoe. It would be better if I admit that he dried his shoe. But from where his other shoe was located on the floor in the bedroom, I'm pretty sure that when I threw the sheets onto the floor in the morning and then scooped them up, his shoe must have tagged along. I don't know how he didn't notice his shoe when he put the sheets into the dryer, but he did say that he wondered why there was a thunking noise when he turned the dryer on.

So there you have it, he's got one clean shoe. And it's one of the shoes that he wore when he used a sledgehammer to help my brother demolish his kitchen a few weeks ago. It's considerably cleaner than the other shoe. CONSIDERABLY.

This past Sunday we had tickets to the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game, and let me tell you this, I’m sooooo not interested in baseball. In fact, since the Brewers have gotten the new stadium, Miller Park, I’ve only been there twice before. I can’t even begin to tell you how many tickets I’ve given away because I just did not want to go.

So my husband survived the downsizing at his job, and as a celebration he and others from his department were treated with tickets to their company’s suite at Miller Park. Tickets to the luxury box? Oh yeah, I’m totally going. I didn’t care if I didn’t watch any of the ball game, but I was going for the experience.

Parking was prime, and then once we found our suite — which happened to be on the field level right behind third base – I settled right in to life in the luxury box. The suite was like a hotel, and who wouldn’t want to watch a sporting event live from their own hotel room? There was wi-fi, there was our own potty, and best of all there were bottles of wine. DECENT WINE. None of that Little Penguin crap. I poured myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and okay, so I couldn’t find a wine glass and I had to drink out of a plastic cup, but I lived.

My daughter was busy filling herself up on potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies. Seeing as she wouldn’t touch a hotdog to save her life (can you blame her?), I called the concierge to see if I could order her a kids meal of chicken fingers. SURE, they said, WE’LL SEND YOUR ASSISTANT OVER WITH IT.

My what? My Assistant? Well, okay.

Sunday’s paper was waiting in the luxury box, so while the crowd cheered I read all my favorite sections: Cue, Entree, Business, and Metro. My husband and I have this thing where we try to guess if the house of the week in the Entree Section will be either IN DOOR COUNTY or NOT IN DOOR COUNTY. We both picked Door County this week, and the house wasn’t, so we both took a drink.

Next thing I know the assistant is there (My Assistant?) deliverying not one, but two huge pizzas. The first thought that came to my head was DID I ACCIDENTALLY ORDER PIZZAS WITH THE KIDS CHICKEN FINGERS? My Assistant assured me that I did not, and then handed me the kids meal.

Okay, how come I never got one of those kids meals whenever I went to the ballgame? It was in a paper bag with comics on it and came with chips, Oreos (more cookies!), a juice box, and a Topps baseball card for some Suppan guy that I’d never heard of. (Even though I’d never head of him, I had to admit that the baseball card was pretty cool.)

During the 7th inning My Assistant came in and boxed all of the food up into containers so we could take home any leftovers. She even labeled the boxes with what was inside too.

Lets see, we had visitors in the luxury box: Bernie Brewer, the mascot, stopped by for a visit! And a face painting lady came around to paint the kids faces too.

Midway through the game some of the people who were sitting outside got up and came into the suite, so we moved from the indoor bar area to the outdoor seats. That was when the game started to get pretty good. I don’t know what got into me, but I even stood up and cheered the team on when the bases were loaded and someone hit the ball way out into the field and no one caught it!

The game was tied 4-4 after the 9th inning, so it went to extra innings, which meant we got to see NOT ONE, but TWO Sausage Races.

We left at the top of the 13th, the score was still tied and there was no end in sight. Of course, as we were wandering around in the parking lot trying to remember where we parked, the Brewers hit a home run and won the game! We missed Bernie Brewer sliding down his slide, and the fireworks too.

I’ve decided that maybe the ballgame isn’t so bad after all, but what I really want is the life in the luxury box. Now that, I could totally get used to.

Last night we went to the State Fair where Zoe actually asked if she could do the bungee jumping slingshot thing. HELL NO! I’m still slightly afraid that she’ll slither through the slots on the safety gate while on the sky ride that takes us from one side of the park to the other.

What did we do? Well, let’s see, we ate, I walked through the Wisconsin wine tasting bar, we had ice cream sundaes, Zoe milked a fake cow for 60 seconds (4 oz worth), and then we took the sky ride. We meant to look at the animals, but somehow got sidetracked in the Expo Center where Zoe made a beaded lanyard thingy at the kid’s “make it and take it” art table, and we watched a Chinese acrobat show.

And then, *we (and I use that term loosely to mean *my husband) found what we came for: Magicloths. It was the Magicloths booth, his Holy Grail of the State Fair.

Ever since the water tube to the refrigerator sprung a leak a few weeks ago and soaked the wall, the floor, and the carpeting, all he’s talked about is Cham Wows and Magicloths. I’m not sure why he decided on Magicloths over Cham Wows, but whatever. Our daughter is a sucker for any and all wonder-gadgets (MOM, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED? IT’S MUDDY PUDDY. AND ROLL N GROW. AND GREEN BAGS.) so it was no wonder that she was mesmerized by the Magicloths demonstration. I walked around a bit during the demo and came back just in time to get hit-up for the moolah by my family. Just as I was pulling out my last $20 from my wallet, the vendor says: OKAY, COME IN CLOSER, I’VE GOT A DEAL FOR YOU. SHHHHH, THESE ARE LEFT OVER FROM THE FIRST DAY OF THE FAIR AND I THINK I’VE ONLY 5 LEFT, AND IF YOU COME BACK LATER AND ASK FOR THEM I CAN’T GIVE THEM TO YOU, BECAUSE THEY’LL BE GONE, BUT INCLUDED IN YOUR MAGICLOTH PACKAGE FOR ONLY $20 (+TAX) IS THIS…

And then she pulled out a mop.

A MOP! And folks, that’s where I draw the line on what I will and what I won’t be buying (or getting free) from the State Fair. I turned to my husband and said: I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T BE A PART OF THIS. A MOP?

And then I handed him the cash and got as far away from the place where a mop is included with purchase as fast as I could. When the coast was clear I did turn around, because I just had to get a picture of this. (Excuse the quality, I had to use my cell phone)

As it turns out, he explained to the vendor that his wife said NO WAY JOSE to the mop, so she gave him an extra package of Magicloths instead. I’m cool with that.

But I made him carry it to the car.

In May I got a brand new Kenmore Elite He5t washing machine with the Quietpak 9 and a matching He5 Steam dryer - also with the Quietpak 9. I didn’t know that I could love a washer and dryer this much. The very second that Sears drove away after delivering and installing them I had a load of wash going — and all the laundry baskets were neatly lined up so that I could wash clear into the middle of the night if I chose to.

I’ve kept those machines running on a fairly regular basis ever since. If something needs to be washed I scope out all the dirty laundry until I’ve got enough to fill a load.

And the Quietpak 9? Well worth the money. My laundry room is on the first floor and it’s right next to the living room, dining room, kitchen, and my bedroom. I needed a washing machine that did not make a peep. And this one is UBER QUIET.

Did I mention that I love it?

So this morning I threw in a load of sheets, and tonight I flipped the laundry into the dryer, and started the next load. Then I took a shower. And when I got out of the shower I noticed that the washing machine wasn’t running, and instead was flashing F32 on the screen.

And the door was locked.

And it kept flashing. F32! F32! F32!!

Yes, yes, F32!! But what does it mean?? I grabbed the owner’s manual and searched for all the error codes, F20, F21, F22, but no F32.

What!?

I started punching buttons on the machine, and finally had to unplug it from the wall to get the door to unlock.

Whew! I got all my clothes out of the washing machine, because even though they were dirty clothes, I felt relieved that they weren’t locked inside! I know, odd.

My husband came in the laundry room and tried to figure out what the problem was, and finally announces that “we’ll have to call for service”. Lucky for him the door right behind him is magnetic and there was a Sears Home Service magnet — which I grabbed and handed to him.

“It’s 8:30 at night, they won’t be open.”

“Ya never know.”

I fully expected him to go back to watching his tv show, and I was still wrapped in a towel, so I went to the bedroom to get into my pajama’s. I can see the couch from the bedroom, and I saw him sitting on the couch, then I heard him explaining to someone that the washing machine wasn’t working and it was giving him an error code.

Could he really be calling Sears? At this hour?? For me???

Sure enough, he called!

And I wanted to burst out into song like Giselle in Enchanted — twirling around in my pj’s That’s How You’ll Know!  

(Cross posted @ Thoughts Outside My Head)

Over the past few weeks I've been running outside, rather than running on my treadmill. My dog, Maisy, has been my running partner. She does pretty good actually, and I'll bet we ran close to 15 miles last week, only taking Wednesday and Sunday off. Perhaps you've seen us running through the subdivisions off of Lilly and Hampton?

The only problem with running with my dog is that I don't want to push her, and in order to make sure she stays properly hydrated, I bought one of those Camelbak packs from REI. It's not the big one that goes on like a backpack, but rather a smaller one that actually I wear like a fanny pack and the water bladder rests on the small of my back. Surprisingly, it holds 48 oz of water, and Maisy is pretty good at drinking it straight from the hose like it's a bubbler.

Tonight Maisy and I were getting ready for our run, and I don't know if it was the water pack that got my daughter, Zoe, so interested or what, but she decided to come along with us. I thought about just doing the 3/4 mile loop through my subdivision, but she was doing so well that I keep on going my normal route and in all we went about 2.5 miles. Sure, we didn't go super fast, and we walked here and there, but I'm so impressed that my 7 year old actually did it! Our pace was slow, due to the walking, as well as I tried to teach her not to burst out full steam ahead.

Even though we both had our iPods on, she talked the entire time. Over time she'll learn to concentrate on her breathing, and maybe not talk so much, or maybe the talking will turn out to help her. Personally, I can't really talk when I run. Anyhow, normally I'd have dropped Maisy off at the house and then gone out again by myself to do another loop, but it was getting late so I didn't this time.

Thursday night I'll Storm the Bastille with my husband and my sister-in-law. My brother and my nephews are supposed to be running the 5K too, but we'll see, they changed their minds last year. This run is my favorite run of the year. I'm really looking forward to it!

Cross posted @ Thoughts Outside My Head

Here’s the background: We’ve been listening a lot to Snacktime, by the Barenaked Ladies. It’s a children’s CD, but it’s fun enough for parents to enjoy too. There is this one song, Crazy ABC’s, where they go through the alphabet and list a crazy word for each of the letters and a definition of it.

Here’s the scenario: We were at dinner with my parents and my nephews. My mom was playing hangman with the kids when all of a sudden my husband comes up THE WORD to END ALL WORDS! The MOST FANTASTIC HANGMAN WORD EVER! He’s positive that they’ll NEVER EVER EVER guess it before their hangman is hung.

He tells them: _ _ _

Someone says: A

He fills it in: _ A _

Zoe says: Q

He gets a look of shock as everyone else at the table thinks our daughter has just made the dumbest letter guess ever because there isn’t a place for a U in those three slots, especially with the A in the middle.

And then she says: “qat, it’s an evergreen shrub” (quoted perfectly from the song, mind you).

Last night my husband and I ran the Superun 5K. It’s through Lake Park, and this run is challenging, but we love it anyways. Our times? Well let’s just say that we finished, and our times sucked. I hadn’t run in over two weeks, and my husband (who finished around 22 minutes last year) ran at my pace (which is no where NEAR 22 minutes).

It did not rain, and there was no beer on this race. It’s was all sunshine and hills.

The next 5K is Bastille Days, which is in July and is my favorite one of them all. I believe my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews will be running it too. That’ll be interesting. My nephews, who are 14, are now taller than me. They’ve got loooooooooooooooooooong legs and I’m willing to bet that they are going to sprint to the finish line.  

Speaking of my sister-in-law, I found out that she joined a triathlon class this summer, thinking that it would teach her the skills necessary for if she’d ever want to do a triathlon. Well, guess what, the class is ACTUALLY GOING TO DO A TRIATHLON. Yes, that’s right. She’s doing a triathlon. I think it’s a great idea, I wouldn’t want to do it — maybe one of those mini tri’s though, I could handle that.

I am vacationing in Door County with my family, which includes my husband, seven year old daughter, parents, and two 14 year old nephews. We are staying in Fish Creek, but yesterday we decided to make a day of it on Washington Island. I've been to Door County many times in the last 12 years, it's become a yearly excursion, and somehow we've never been to Washington Island. What would it be like? What would we do there? What adventure awaited us on the other side of the ferry?

There were seven of us, so we had to take two cars. Round trip tickets for a car is $24 (JUST the car), adults are $5.50 and children are $3.75. When we got off the ferry we immediately headed towards the Lookout Tower in Mountain Park where the view from the top of the tower was amazing! After that we split up for lunch, with my husband, daughter and I going to a restaurant on Main Street that promised breakfast all day, soup, sandwiches, wi-fi, and a baby grand piano in the dining room, oh and let's not forget the kayak tours. Close your eyes and imagine it with me, do you see a fireplace? Someone playing the piano? Customers lounging around, laptops open, blogging away? Coffee bar perhaps?

Okay, now you need to snap back to what I'd like to call: the reality of island life. The restaurant was about the size of my living room, the baby grand was in the corner with a fence (FENCE?) around it, zero laptops, no fireplace, and only two other tables of customers. The waitress moved on island time, and she even stopped taking our order at one point so she could help someone else find a fork. However, it must be said that that was the best darn grilled cheese sandwich I'd had in a while. AND I was able to log onto wi-fi with my iPod Touch so I could email my brother and check on my dogs.

After lunch we met back up at Jacobsen’s Museum were we met a life long resident of the island. Then we visited an Art & Nature Center, where I searched for a painting to add to my Door County collection (didn't find one though). My nephew bought a boomerang, which my husband immediately tried out in the parking lot. He threw it towards the woods, and I'm sure he expected it turn around right before the trees, but it didn't, and my nephew had to trounce around in the trees until they found it.

Note to anyone with a boomerang: learn to use it before you throw it towards the woods.

We decided it was time to head back to the ferry. My dad's car got on no problem, but we were told we'd have to wait an hour for the next ferry, so we pulled off to the side to wait. Next thing we know we are being waved ahead, once we got up to the ferry it was pretty clear that only one of those little Smart Cars would fit on the deck. The guy leans into the driver's window and says to my husband, "okay, what you're going to do is turn around here and backup onto the ferry, (and then he pointed) sideways there behind that car". And then I looked and saw him point towards my mom, who was already rummaging around in the cooler that was in the hatchback of their Equinox. My husband and I looked at each other, surely this is a joke, right? He didn't just tell us to back up on the ferry, did he? And then we laughed. And from the look on his face we realized that it wasn't a joke, and that we were going to be backing up sideways on the little itty bit part of the deck.

So that was our once in a lifetime Washington Island experience. I think that it'd be a perfect place to go for a bike ride. Maybe next time!

On Saturday my husband, daughter, and I were at Panera for lunch, it was the Brookfield location at Ruby Isle, and if you’ve been there before you know about the separate dining room that is off of the main room. It’s quieter in there and for some reason it’s Zoe primo spot when she’s choosing a place to sit.

So we were eating our lunch, and there was a couple of ladies a few tables away, but other than that we had the room to ourselves, when all of a sudden, I swear to God, I heard a bird chirp. I glanced around and didn’t see a bird, nor did I see anything that could have made that noise, so I went back to eating. A few minutes later I heard the bird again. I looked up, thinking I’d catch it flying across the ceiling or something, but again, I saw nothing. My husband and daughter heard the chirping too, so at least I wasn’t hearing things.

This is where I have to say that stuff like this drives me nuts! I know I heard a bird, but I never ever saw it. I’ll bet in all we heard it at least five or six times over a 20 minute period, yet every time I looked around, I couldn’t find it. If it were not for those ladies sitting a couple tables down, I would have done a complete top to bottom search of the room. However, since they were there, and didn’t seem to even notice the chirping, I’d look rather insane if I dropped to my knees and started looking underneath all the tables in search of where the chirping was coming from. Although, I did take the opportunity to look behind the garbage cans when I cleared our trays.

Zoe kept saying, ‘Okay, if I hear that chirping again then I know there’s a bird here for sure!’

Folks, let me tell you this: There was a bird there, I’m sure of it. And if I would have had the time, I would have done a stake out, if only to say ‘A ha! There’s the bird!’  and then I’d have gone about the rest of my day, just waiting for the next crazy thing to happen.

One time, at our last house, I was in our family room watching tv. My husband, and daughter, who was just a baby, were both sleeping. All of a sudden something flew across the room! My mind started to flip through it’s internal rolodex of all the possible things it could have been, and it stopped on: bat. A BAT!!! There’s a bat in my house! In the room where I am sitting!!!

And that’s when I started shrieking and threw a blanket over my head. I was frozen in my chair, and thought that if I got up and ran to the other room, the bat might just fly into me. SHRIEK!!!!! SCREAM!!!!!

My husband came running from the bedroom, saw what I was screaming about, and pretty much commanded me to get into the kitchen where we could close the swinging butler door behind us, thereby quarantining the bat in the dining room and family room area. I shot like a bullet across the room, with a blanket over my head, and he shut the door behind me.

Now what do we do? How in the heck do we get that freaking bat out of our house? Well, we walked around outside to the front door, opened it, and then waiting for the bat to fly out. Which he did, and it only took a few minutes actually. That stupid bat. That was probably one of the craziest things to ever happen.

(Cross posted @ Thoughts Outside My Head)

My daughter is seven years old, and she's desperately wanted a swingset for as long as I can remember. That child has always loved the swings. ALWAYS. When we'd take her to the park, she'd spend the entire time on the swings, and if we were able to pull her off of them and over to the slide? She'd slide down and then race straight back over to the swings, as if to say: "Are you happy now? I went down the slide! FOR YOU!! Now I'd like a push, please."

My daughter, who is an only child, also snubs almost any toy she gets. Moon Sand? She had to have it, played with it once. American Girl Doll? She couldn't live without Nicki (and her horse, and her dog), but really isn't interested in playing with her. Wii? No thanks. A bicycle? Sometimes. She's just not interested in any of them. However, give the kid an artbox and a pile of paper and she's making drawings and pictures until the cows come home. While she's extremely talented when it comes to drawing, she's a kid and she should go outside and play! Put down your markers and go run around! 

We decided to make her swingset dreams come true and we bought her a Rainbow Play System. This is where I tell you that we didn't specifically set out to buy her a Rainbow, but it ended up that way, and we could not be happier. It was installed on May 5th, and she's outside playing on it every chance she gets. Friends are popping up from the subdivision too, which is really nice to see because when we moved to Menomonee Falls we chose to keep our daughter in the school she was previously attending, which meant not living near school friends.

And the added bonus (besides the fact that she's watching a lot less Sponge Bob Squarepants and Hannah Montana)? The Rainbow is big enough so that I can play on it too. There's nothing like revisiting my own childhood on the swings for a while, and yes, I've even jumped off mid-swing. Wouldn't you? 

Yesterday my daughter and I spent the day at the Milwaukee Art Museum. We were there for a children's class about Georgia O'Keeffe, however Art in Bloom was also going on and we stayed the day so we could attend the workshop with the lovely Lois Ehlert who wrote and illustrated many children's books. The event is going on again today, and Lois will be there again from 1-4PM, I highly recommend stopping in to meet her, read a few of her books, and then create some art to add to the flower garden. It was a lot of fun!