It's New Years Eve and thus for lack of anything to actually write I offer you the Best Laughs that Weaselville had to offer in 2009.
Enjoy!
Bedding, Rodents and Fairies
WeaselMomma's Wisdom or What Passes for it
No Way To Start Your Day
Mac The Cat Speaks
Getting Back Out There
Weasels Loose at The Zoo
And in This Corner....
The Soup
Dear Coors Light
And a drum roll please...........
The Dark Side of The Hundred Acre Wood
Merry Christmas Eve to all!!!!!!!!
Today will be busy and filled with the all the last minute preparations and the beginning of festivities and our family traditions.
I will run around like a chicken with head cut off trying to meet time deadlines. While the Weasels (and their Momma) reach critical mass and risk spontaneous combustion with excitement levels reaching Richter scale readings.
Then, just before FEMA needs to be called, it will be time for my favorite part of the Christmas celebration, Christmas Eve Mass. As a family we will dress and go to our church with 100's of others and their critical mass children. The sanctuary will be filled with joy, excitement and anticipation. The music, readings, Gospel and the celebration of the Eucharist during Mass will bring Joy and Peace to my heart.
The Weasel family will return home to exchange gifts from each other before getting ourselves in bed in time for Santa and his Elves to arrive and work their magic. We will awaken to find the glimmer and shimmer of ribbons, bows and wrap illuminated by our tree all a twinkle in a moment of Christmas magic of uncompromising beauty with Weasel eyes twinkling in excitement, Peace and relief of knowing that they made the Nice List.
I have a glorious 24 hours ahead of me, but this will always remain my most cherished part, courtesy of Luke:
Tis the Monday before Christmas
and all through the nest,
the Weasels are sleeping,
getting much needed rest.
The dog is asleep,
atop of my feet
on a Cold winters morning,
giving off much needed heat.
The Mr. is dressing,
preparing for work,
The cats are all hiding,
who knows where they lurk.
And I with my coffee am planning my way,
so much to be done still to prepare the big day.
The stockings are hung on the stairwell lopsided.
A job in which Middle Weasel is prided.
The tree is half decorated,
in need of of more love.
What's that on the floor,
by the door?
Why it's Boys missing glove.
There's more cookies to bake and tins to deliver.
I should hang up my lights to make the house shimmer.
Paper and scissors and tape all to gather
and help Smallest Weasel write Santa a letter.
There's more shopping to do.
I must clean up the house
and did someone just ask for another pet mouse?
So much to be done.
It will all come together
and maybe next year I'll write Santa a letter.
I will ask him for Elves to work in my shop.
I can pay them with cocoa, cookies and pop.
They could bake cookies and clean up the nest,
Then maybe I would get some much needed rest.
They'd do all my shopping and decorate shelves.
That would be awesome.
Oh how I want Elves!
Well it's time to get on with the tasks of the season
and time to remember that Christ is the reason.
For the love of The Father, The Son and The Ghost
are the gifts that we Weasels need to appreciate most.
Wishing you all A Merry Christmas full of Peace, Love and Joy*.
*and a great day at the movies to all my Jewish friends.
Last night was the the Weasels school Christmas concert. I always enjoy the Children's voices and watching the reenactment of the Nativity that they work so hard to put on for us, but I hate the thought of rushing through dinner, making sure the kids are dressed in their Christmas Best and the insanity of getting out of the door on time and making sure that Mr. Weasel gets out of work in time.
It all spells chaos squared in Weaselville. As I run around the house trying to ready everyone, there is always someone nipping at me heals with "You need do my hair now!", "I can't find my shoes!", "She's wearing my stockings!" and so forth.
By the time we picked up Mr. Weasel from the train, I was beyond frazzled. Yes, my calm, collected, relaxed demeanor was long gone. I was angry at 1/2 the Weasels for lack of cooperation, I was already tired, tense and irrational. By default, Mr. Weasel could not do anything right either. He hadn't actually done anything wrong, but momma was on a war path and he just happened to be on the road.
By the time the concert/Nativity began I was no better. The children were sweet in their singing and there were angels, sheep, shepherds, Wise Men and every other character from the bible story, except the donkey that carried Mary upon it's back into Bethlehem.
I made complaint about this to Mr, Weasel.
Me: Where's the donkey? They never have the donkey. They should have a donkey!
Mr. Weasel: Would you stop? Just enjoy the play and knock it off. Your doing nothing but nagging about everything tonight.
Me: The bible gives me permission to nag at you.
Mr. Weasel: What? Where?
Me: Mary rode Joseph's ass all the way to Bethlehem.
And that my dear readers, should bring clarity to so much of your life.
To: Santa
From: Forward Scout, Jangle Elf, 1st Class
Location: Suburban USA
Re: Observations
Date: 12-15-2009
Naughty ~ When a shopper at the checkout of a shoe store informed the clerk that she no longer wanted the boots she was set to purchase, because she had believed that they were discounted much more than they had scanned for, he begrudgingly removed them from her bill with a sigh and an eye roll.
Naughty ~ The next woman in line wanted to use a coupon. The clerk refused to accept the coupon, stating that it was only valid at location Y. When the woman asked if the clerk would call location Y and ask if they had this item in stock (common happening in this store), so that she could just go there to make her purchase, the clerk sighed and rolled his eyes before replying "if you want".
Nice ~ A third woman in line, overhearing the woman's decision to not purchase the boots, informed the woman of a different local store where she could purchase the boots at a lower price. Grateful for the advice and directions the shopper went on her way.
Naughty ~ After checking out with her purchases, the third woman wished the clerk a Merry Christmas, which was clearly heard and ignored.
Nice ~ Monkey Weasel was incredibly brave and tough. On Sunday her ear began to ache. She didn't complain and went to school on Monday. Monday night stated that it hurt, but wasn't running a fever and she still went about her chores without complaint. She went to the doctor on Tuesday after starting a fever and found out that she had a bad infection in the ear. So much so that there is a perforation in her ear. This is incredibly painful and she has been quite a trooper.
Naughty ~ A 6th grade teacher gave her class a project assignment that she clearly could not expect the students to do themselves. Bake a cake model of the Earth, complete with a core, mantle and crust. Iced to resemble how the Earth appears from space and that can be cut into revealing the layers. I'm pretty sure this teacher just likes cake.
Naughty ~ WeaselMomma decided that teacher would not be receiving a tin of homemade Christmas cookies. She should really work on forgiveness.
We all are extremely familiar with the snot nosed, little brat that caught his mother giving Santa a little sumptin, sumptin extra for all of his troubles on Christmas Eve. What I wanna know is what on earth Santa was doing at the kids house to begin with!
Seriously, that kid deserves a lump of coal and to step in a pile of the little gifts that the reindeer leave behind in the lawn, at best. What did this kid do so wrong to deserve this, you ask?
Think about it. He catches his mother playing a game of "I bet I know where your ticklish" with Santa and does he stop to think 'that's wrong?' Does he care about the devastating effect of such behavior on his family? Does he consider how many pieces his father's heart would break into if this were to come to his attention?
The answer is no. All he thinks is "Damn shame that Dad didn't see this. It would make for great entertainment". The kid could be put on the naughty list for having words like 'damn' in his vocabulary alone. It never even crosses the kid's mind that this is a quid pro quo for Santa showing up at his house to begin with and the sacrifice that his mother may be making for him. He never thinks of Santa's route schedule and how this will delay Santa from getting to good children's houses before dawn. Not only should Santa not go to this kids house, his parents should go old school all over his butt.
What about all the poor kid who is getting Nuttin' for Christmas? He has a change of heart, promises to be good for next year, but finds that his actions are too late for this year. HumBug! Even Ebinezer Scrooge was given a 11th hour chance for redemption! If this kid really does go straight like he says he will, I think that he deserves a reprieve. Really. Gum in your sister's hair, using penny slugs and a tack on the teachers chair are bad behaviors, but child's play that doesn't compare to being jubilant that your mother is breaking her marriage vows and disappointed that you don't get to watch any fireworks because dad isn't around. I don't condone these behaviors, but kids will be kids and if they really change their ways, I say let Santa come.
I think Santa really needs to rethink his list criteria.
I hope you all brought your tiaras! Come on in and make yourself comfortable. You can just set the food and snacks out in the comments. Drinks are in the cooler, so please help yourself.
RockBand is set up downstairs, so have fun but don't ask me to sing. Michelle of Honest & Truly made this delicious asparagus wrapped in proscuitto and Melisa used her mad cake baking skilz to make me a beautiful star of yumminess.
HEY, keep your fingers out of the icing!
Mingle around. tell lame party jokes and have a great time! Just don't feed the dog from the table.
To Raise An Idiot. Today I am the butt of all jokes and master of none, Thanks to four Elders (not only in lifespan of their blogs, but on their drivers licenses that were chiseled in stone) in my blogging village. They raised my blogging persona in their own images and much like Dr. Frankenstein, created a monster.
In honor of my having graced the world with my presence for the past 37 years, I have been Blunked (punked on a blog - go look it up, it's in the Urban dictionary, submitted by a middle aged, Jewish woman in the suburbs - I kid you not.) on multiple blogs today.
These are the bloggers who mentored me and allowed me to suck at the teat of their blogging knowledge, teaching me the tricks of the trade and bringing me into their fold of friendship. They raised me as their own, watched me grow and shed tears of joy the first time I used HTML strikeout code on my own linked to their blogs.
The same said middle aged, Jewish woman in the suburbs (That I host a really fun livestream show with) has given me delusions of grandeur, hopes of rising stardom and of owning a multi-billion entertainment corporation in 20 years time.
Tom chronicled my biographical accomplishments all the way back from I was just a tiny little Hun all the way through my modeling career as the inspiration for the Mrs. Butterworth's bottle.
NukeDad brings up a part of my life that I am too modest to brag about myself, telling of my love affair with Bob Seger and my ongoing struggle to save our children from a post apocabrewtic world. I don't like to brag, but that portion of my life would make a great movie.
Momo Fali remembers fondly the days of my childhood and how she gave me my first beer and great make-up tips. Ahhh, those were the days and now you all know who to blame.
This may not seem like your typical parenthood post, but this is the village that raised this idiot and a prime example of why you should never procreate with those who are too closely genetically related to you. So go click their links to laugh hysterically at my expense and have a Happy Fatherhood Friday and don't forget to come to my virtual birthday party this Sunday, right here on World of Weasels.
I don't want Terri, Terri Quite Contrary to think that I suck, so I am going to play around and have some fun with this meme.
What do you really want for Christmas but you know nobody will get it for you?
A winter (or year round) home in Texas. I'm done with cold and snow. With an in-ground pool 8000 sq. ft, pool house, full time staff and the money to pay for it all. A girl can dream, right?
What do you not want for Christmas but you know that somebody will get it for you?
Dart shooting, noise making toys from the dollar store to drive me crazy. My brother sends them every year and I curse him for it. He does it on purpose and sends enough for all the Weasels to play with.
When do you open your gifts (Christmas eve or Christmas morning?)
Gifts from family are opened on Christmas Eve after Mass. Santa makes his rounds when all of Weaselville is asleep and leaves gifts for everyone to open Christmas morning.
Do you prefer gifts wrapped or in gift bags?
I like both and don't really care, but pretty gifts to unwrap are always great fun until you open them and find dart shooting, noise making toys from the dollar store.
Did you regift anything this year?
Not a re-gifter, that is unless I receive a gift that I really don't want and you really like. Then I will just give it to you, but not in front of the person who gave it to me and I always try to be gracious unless it is noise making, dart shooting toys from the dollar store.
What’s your favorite Christmas movie?
Christmas Vacation, A Christmas Story and Scrooged are on the very top of my list.
What’s your favorite Christmas t.v. special?
A Charlie Brown Christmas will always hold a special place in my heart, but Christmas Eve on Sesame Street -the original special from my childhood still makes me laugh like crazy and brings back memories of watching with my Dad as a child. We really enjoyed the way that Oscar torments the living daylights out of Big Bird throughout the show about how Santa is too fat to fit down the chimney and thus isn't coming. Twisted, funny, stuff. I love it so much I am embedding the entire thing here from youtube clips.
Do you like eggnog?
Yes, especially Southern Comfort non-alcoholic egg nog -add your own merry. It's rich and delicious.
Real tree or fake tree? Which do you prefer?
I prefer real for the scent in the house, but not for the needles that I find embedded in the rug come July. We use an artificial pre-lit tree because I am usually the one to put it up and take it down. The less work the better.
Would you actually use one of those fireplace DVDs if you don’t have a fireplace?
No. My brother gave me one a few years back with the dart shooting, noise making dollar store toys of torture. He thought it was great, I found it cheesy. It's still packaged on my DVD shelf, I think.
Are you sick of Christmas music yet?
I have been trying not to overdose on it, but am tired of the same old, same old and want some new classics to listen too. Maybe Melisa will introduce me some of her Hanukkah favorites for a change of pace.
Are you getting up early to wait in line to do some Boxing Day shopping?
Nope. Not only do we not celebrate boxing day in the States, it will take a lot to get me out of my warm cozy robe and home when I don't have to be. I don't do Black Friday shopping either.
When was the last time you sat on Santa’s lap?
Last Christmas Eve after the Weasels were are nestled and snug in their beds. It worked and I got what I wanted for Christmas. Naughty or nice, you decide.
Anyone who knows me knows that my birthday is an event too big to fit into just one 24 hour celebration. In that spirit tonight, we will kick-off with The WeaselMomma Birthday Extravaganza on Suburban Wow with a special After Dark episode starting at 9pm est/ 8pm cst and 6pm Pacific.
Come join in the fun and celebration with giveaways for lucky viewers of my favorite things (move over Oprah) and plenty of laughs to go around. Follow @ Suburban Wow on Twitter and be part of the conversation by sending @ messages and following the other viewers to be a part of the party and mingle with guests.
Feel free to bring a few friends along. The more the merrier is what I always say. There's plenty of fun to go around. Anyone who is anyone will be there and maybe NukeDad too.
The official Birthday Extravaganza will end this Sunday on the actual anniversary of my birth with a virtual party right here at World of Weasels. It was so much fun last year that we must do it again.
Everyone bring a virtual covered dish and recipe to share or a favorite libation. Oh, and don't forget the virtual gifts, no pressure to wrap.
So tune in tonight by clicking this cheater link and become part of the 2nd biggest birthday celebration of the year, only trumped by the Baby Jesus.
Every December 1000's of homeless and orphaned Christmas Trees are adopted from lots, the back of trucks and grocery stores, some to a good home and some not.
Because of a lack of screening and back round checks of those seeking to adopt a tree, all too often a tree will be tortured by tacky lights and adorned with gaudy decorations. In the worst cases of abuse the helpless tree will even be set fire too, taking its new home with it.
I urge you, my dear readers, to spread the word of Christmas tree safety to your friends and neighbors. Educate adoptive families on proper decorating techniques. Report and shame the abusers.
We can no longer turn a blind eye to these atrocities.
*Photos courtesy of Google Images
Last week I posted snapshots of The Weasel Christmas Card Photo shoot and today unveil to you the finished product. The cards were produced and furnished by Naptime Productions who asked me to review their product in exchange for providing me with Christmas cards so that I had something to review. I agreed as long as they were willing to accept an honest review from me and *I am not being paid for this review*. I even paid for the shipping of the cards to my home.
(Notice, the signature script has been changed by me, because let's face it you are all a bunch of internet freak nut-jobs and I need to protect my family. The original signature is beautifully scripted and elegant.
The cards are gorgeous. I really love them. They are the nicest Christmas cards that we have ever sent out. I have never had professional cards made before, basically because I am too cheap to do so. Usually I just take a snapshot to my local 'pick a template, type your names and pick up in one hour' dime a dozen providers and done. They are cheap, easy, acceptable and bland.
Naptime Productions managed to take the same picture that I would have used for the low budget and looks like it card and turned it into something with class. They are beautiful.
Their website was incredibly user friendly and easy to navigate. They offer many options of templates and layouts and provide cards for any occasion. They cover the bases for not only holidays, but invitations, announcements and anything else you could want to send out.
Their customer service was quick, easy, friendly and helpful while ensuring that they were producing exactly what my vision of the card was. They also offer extra add on services such as having the return address printed on the envelopes, assembly of the cards and having a jpeg of the card sent to your email for posting and emailing to friends and family.
The turn around from the time I ordered the cards online and received them in hand was incredible. I believe it was 3 business days. I ordered on a Sunday evening and I believe (but don't remember exactly) they arrived on Wednesday.
Mr. Weasel's reaction when I showed him the finished product that was delivered to my door was "Wow. Those are really nice. I am going to feel like a total cheapwad next year".
Yes, the only downfall of these cards is that you get what you pay for. They are not the kind of card that fits into the Weasel family budget, no matter how much I wish they did. For 100 of this particular card the cost is $200. Add on the return address printing on the envelopes for another $25, assembly of the card for $44, a jpeg file for $10 and $11.50 in shipping to get a grand total of $289.50. This is all before I buy postage to mail the cards.
I know of many people who spend much more money than I on holiday cards, so maybe this isn't above the norm of what many families spend on cards, but this cost is steep in relation to what I could normally spend to have cards made at this time of year.
In conclusion, here is my report card for Naptime Productions Cards.
Website Navigation A+
Customer Service A++
Cards Themselves A+
Turn around Time A++
Cost C
If you are looking to have any kind of card made up in the near future, I do recommend that you visit their site and decide for yourself what your budget can allow.
And by the way, I am such a cheapwad that you can consider this my Christmas card to you. Wishing you all the joys of the Season and the blessings of Christ. Except of course for my Jewish readers whom I wish a Joyous Hanukkah and may your candle of love for God never burn out.
Teens are a unique breed of human. Most anyone who has spent significant time raising them would agree. As much as they love Mom & Dad, they usually have a hard time showing it, let alone saying it. They much prefer to give an eye roll over a hug. When given a gentle kiss on the cheek from Mom, they recoil as if her lips are a branding iron. Eldest Weasel actually jokes "It buuurrrnnnsss". However, they do indeed love and show it when they choose to.
We are now into the Christmas Season. I used to love it all. The lights, colors and shimmering paper always filled my heart with joy and the spirit of Christmas. A few years ago, Christmas changed for me. I could not bear to see the lights, hear the carols or stand the sight of the decorations. I could not muster the energy to celebrate anything and begrudged the world around me that did. I went through the motions for the sake of my children so as not to spoil their enjoyment, but my heart wasn't in it.
Christmas Present, 7 years later, is bittersweet for me. I can celebrate and enjoy. I can decorate and admire. I can shop and be excited about the treasures that I have found, but it is now always tinged by a sadness and longing. I will laugh, but I will also cry.
The other day while baking some favorite holiday treats the Christmas tunes were playing, while the Weasels sang, danced and 'helped' me in the kitchen. I love times like this, for the memories we are making, but then something stopped me in my tracks. Out of the speakers came "All I Want for Christmas is You" sung by Mariah Carey. This is a great song that I always loved, but that now will bring me instant tears.
For the only thing that I really want (and don't have) for Christmas and always, I cannot have. The only thing missing from my life is the laughter and hugs, from a would have been, 7-year-old girl who I can only visit at the cemetery, whose name is etched in cold marble, planted in icy ground as the only statement to the world that she had ever existed or mattered.
As the song began, my sweetest, eye-rolling, smart-mouthed teen, Eldest Weasel, spotting the pain in my expression, hugged me tight and we began to dance. I held her with all of my might in gratitude for being able to, as tears streamed down my face in heartache and sorrow for her little sister whom I long to hold, but never will again, in this life anyway.
Her love and unspoken understanding of what I was feeling meant so much and gave me the ability to continue with the tasks at hand in the kitchen. It also reminded me of an organization made of up individuals who have had a child's death touch their lives, SIDS of Illinois. These are the people who carried us through that first Christmas, birthday, Mother's day and subsequent ones, with an understanding of our pain. They are the people who acted as a crutch when we were not able to walk this road on our own. This organization that not only works to support bereaved families, but fights to save babies lives, through education for parents, providing safe sleep material goods for families unable to afford them (such as cribs and sleep sacks), but also to train first responders on how to deal with newly bereft parents, while still performing their duties, in order to prevent living nightmares such as Mr. Weasel and I experienced.
In this season of giving, if you are so inclined to give me a hug, I asked that you do so virtually, by way of donation to SIDS of Illinois. It doesn't matter if it's $1, $5, or $500. Donate in memory of Claire Weasel (she is the featured remembrance baby of the month - go check out her beautiful picture) via phone ((1-800-432-SIDS (7437)) or Paypal directly on their site. You can also tweet, Digg, stumble or otherwise promote this post. Every dollar donated can mean another baby's life saved or a lifeline for a family who will need to survive their first Christmas without their child in their arms.
Don't forget to stop by Dad Blogs for some other interesting insights on all things Fatherhood and Parenthood related.
Today I treat you to meme that PJ Mullen of Real Men Drive Mini-Vans tagged me with a week ago and I am finally getting around to responding to. (PJ, you should be honored that I didn't blow this off, like I have done so many times in the past). Have fun with this and check back with me on Friday for an incredibly excellent post, if I do say so myself. So here are 25 tidbits to help you get to know WeaselMomma a little better.
1. Name someone with the same birthday as you. Dick Van Dyke.
2. Where was your first kiss? Sad to admit, but I don't remember. Must not have been that memorable or even more likely is that the past 17 years of kisses have over shadowed it with their awesomeness.
3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else’s property? Unfortunately, yes. As a mean spirited prank in college, that I am ashamed of and truly remorseful for, I added bleach to the fish tank that housed a hall mates Beta fish. I believe that to be my worst moment as a human being.
4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex? Yes. As a teen I beat the crap out of my older and bigger brother. He had it coming for a long time.
5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people? No. When I sing, the baby Jesus cries.
6. What’s the first thing you notice about your preferred sex? That they are my preferred sex.
7. What really turns you off? Infidelity and when anyone opens their mouths and reveals themselves as a complete moron.
8. What do you order at Starbucks? Completely depends on my mood.
9. What is your biggest mistake? Yeah, like I'm going to own up to that on the internet.
10. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? No
11. Say something totally random about yourself. I love unexpected gifts.
12. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? In High School I was told that I look like Demi Moore (Ghost years & had more to do with my haircut)
13. Do you still watch kiddie movies or TV shows? Phineas & Ferb all the way and I have to admit, I dig iCarly too.
14. Did you have braces? Nope.
15. Are you comfortable with your height? Yup.
16. What is the most romantic thing someone of the preferred sex has done for you? Borrowed a car, drove 1 1/2 hrs in the middle of the night to come see me because I had a bad day, and drove back in time for work the next morning.
17. When do you know it’s love? It's in his kiss.
18. Do you speak any other languages? Nada. Just a few cursory words and phrases.
19. Have you ever been to tanning salon? Never.
20. Have you ever ridden in a limo? Yes, weddings, airports and 1 birthday party.
21. What’s something that really annoys you? When my kids don't follow simple instructions.
22. What’s something you really like? Friends
23. Can you dance? I have two white feet.
24. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room? No.
25. Tag 5 people! I'll tag Dear Mr. Man, Liz @ This Full House, Terry @ Oh For Pete's Sake, Kim @ Beautiful Wreck and NukeDad, just because I want to taunt him about his lack of posting.
One of the many joys of the Season is the annual taking of the the Christmas card picture. Some people leave this up to professionals. Some people use a nice shot of the family from when they were on vacation. Here in Weaselville we patiently wait for the stars to align in such a way that everybody is home and wearing clean clothes at the same time.
This astrological rarity coincidentally happened this past weekend. Actually, the right conditions were in place both Saturday and Sunday. Maybe I should check the calendar to see if it was a blue moon. Even with all the conditions coming together with a wide window of opportunity, things did not go easily.
When I mentioned taking the photo, Eldest insisted we take it in front of the Christmas tree, as we have often done in years past. The only catch, the tree had not yet been erected. Nor did I feel like pulling it out of the basement and setting it up. Eldest volunteered for this task and I gave her the nod.
Fast forward 12 hours. The tree is up and lit, but the branches have yet to be separated and fluffed in order to avoid the Charlie Brown look.
Fast forward 7 more hours and we are finally ready to take the picture while dinner is in the oven. The following is what happens when you take 5 hungry Weasels and 1 dog and try to take 1 Christmas Card picture.
These are Weasels:
In hopes that things would go a little smoother after everyone's blood sugar levels are back on track, this is the point at which we decided to take a break to eat dinner. You're welcome for me not posting all 374 pre - dinner pics.
These are Weasels on food:
Last but not least, the money shot that will appear on the Weasel Family Christmas card 2009:
Thanksgiving in Weaselville was busy, as expected. A day that started extremely early, even for Weasel standards and filled with hours spent in the kitchen -my favorite part of the day- and very little down time.
Eldest Weasel was running in a Turkey Trot with a friend first thing in the morning as Mr. Weasel smoked the bird of honor over indirect heat on the grill. I began chopping and prepping for all the various dishes of the day, including the feast of turkey parts that come stuffed and bagged inside the bird for Matilda The Hun.
All of the Weasels were disgusted and awed to watch the dog enjoy her special treats that they would dare not ever put into their mouths. Matilda then followed me around the kitchen for the rest of the day in hopes that I had some more tasty little morsels for her. Who says I can't make a feast fit for a dog?
Mr. Weasel fights a battle against the weather every year as he cooks the turkey outdoors, either by deep frying or smoking. The cold and the wind usually make it difficult to keep the temperatures high enough to cook the bird. This year however, he had trouble keeping the temperature from going too high, even though it was snowing when he started, and a cooking method that should have taken 12 hours for a 24 lb bird, was finished (overly so) in 5. The smokey taste however, was fantabulous and the dark meat - that I am not typically a fan of - was pure heaven. The white meat was a little on the dry side, was still delicious in flavor and there was plenty of gravy to go around. The stuffing was also smoked with the same result and once again the smoky flavor was outstanding, even if it was a little dry.
All the other dishes went off without a hitch and were tasty indeed, but the best part of the day was spending with our family and hearing all of the Weasels speak of what they are thankful for in their lives. The range of their gratitude extended from "my faith" to "the dog" and it was heart warming to hear them speak. We enjoyed sitting down to a wonderful meal without the spillage of a single drink! Miracles do happen!
After dinner and before pie, we turned to family movie night, as we are not a football kind of family, and shared the joy of Ferris Bueller's Day Off with the Weasels (edited for TV, of course), followed by the introduction of Home Alone to Smallest Weasel.
Weasels are now fully excited and ready to take on The Christmas season. Not only did Santa come to town at the end of the parade yesterday, but even better and more exciting to the Weasel's is that our dear friend Patsy is coming back to town on Saturday! They have been speaking of it constantly for weeks and asking "How many more days". It brings me such joy and pride that this is the focus of their hyper energy. That have such a love for this wonderful lady who is so special to me.
We have so much to be grateful for in Weaselville everyday. Mr. Weasel has a job this year. There is plenty of food on our table and dear friends in our lives. We are all healthy and happy and have the opportunity to share our blessings with others and be blessed by having others in our lives.
I wish you all the blessings of Christ and family this Christmas Season and want you to know that you were on my list of what I am thankful for. Especially, but not limited to Tom, NukeDad, Melisa, Momo Fali, Mrs.4444, PJ Mullen and I could go on, but would spend the rest of my day linking.
*This was originally posted in November 2008*
Ahhh, Thanksgiving. A Time to come together with family and celebrate all of the blessings we have. A day to remember, appreciate and show gratitude for yet having survived another year. A day that more times than not is filled with landmines just waiting to be stepped on.
When spending the holiday with relatives, either by blood or marriage, there is always going to be sniper fire. Comments from Aunt Cookie, who still can't believe he married that little tramp, to the effect of "MMMMM, this tastes wonderful. It's not nearly as dry as it looks" and the inevitable small talk around the wine bottle about "little Susie's boobies are starting to bud". The conversation throughout the day will continually go downhill and you will soon get to hear all about Grandpa Dan's prostate in more detail than you can digest through.
You will hear all the play by play of cousin Lucy and her husband Jed's infertility issues, as Aunt Betsy is in the corner telling everyone that they can't conceive because Lucy was a tramp in college. Speculation and rumor of divorce will be whispered about Mike and Sara because they didn't accept the invitation to dinner. In reality, they were smart enough to avoid this whole scene in favor of 4 nights in the Bahamas.
Soon desert will be served. As Uncle Lou scoffs down his 3rd piece of homemade pie, Aunt Cookie asks "where did you buy the pie? I hope you didn't pay too much, it's a bit too sweet". You want to scream, but you have to play nice. You try to hide in the bathroom to take a few deep breaths only to find it occupied with Aunt Betsy and a colitis attack. Aunt Cookie blames the gravy.
In order to protect ourselves, here in Weaselville we start the day with bloody Mary's. They are just enough armour to deflect the scathing comments and numb the conversation. They take the edge off of an exhausting day. A huge debt of gratitude goes out to my sister-in-law for bringing this tradition to our family.
Here and now, I propose to you a new national holiday ~Grateful Friday~(to be celebrated on the 4th Friday of November) in order to appreciate and mock our relatives from a distance while enjoying a meal with friends. A day to show gratitude for the people we hang out with by choice, not just by birth or marriage. A day to celebrate and be grateful for having survived another Thanksgiving. We already have the day off of work. We already have dinner made, and the Bloody Mary's can be for fun and not just medicinal.
And a huge shout out to BadMomma who has a brilliantly funny Thanksgiving Survival Guide.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, the old saying is that we all get our 15 minutes sooner or later, I however will take what I can get.
Last night, after homework and before dinner, I took a few minutes to check my email, blog comments and twitter. Simultaneously, Greta Van Susteren send out a general tweet to effect of "Hey, I'm logged onto Skype, ping me now if you want to chat." (I can't find the exact tweet, but that was the gist of it.)
So I looked her up on Skype and hit that magic little call button. I didn't know the topic she wanted to discuss or the context of what the conversation would be and was nervous and very much second guessing my choice about making contact. It began to ring, and ring, and ring. I let it ring 7 or 8 times before giving up and figuring that 500 people were doing the same nervous sweaty under arm thing that I was.
In the mean time, my cell phone rang and it was none other than my dear blogging buddy, Mr. Man. We were chatting for just a minute or 2, when my Skype started ringing. "Mr. Man, I don't want to be rude, but I'm gonna have to call you back. Greta Van Susteren is calling me." Without missing a beat, Mr. Man responded "well, okay then." or something like that.
I answered the call and here is what ensued:
Greta promoted my blog and I saw a definite spike in the traffic last night. I woke up this morning to actual fan email in my inbox. I kid you not. I was pretty surprised to, and flattered, and a little creeped out. It was all very complimentary and ego boosting, but it was awfully strange and all very new for me.
I was sent well wishes from blogging and twitter friends and teased plenty in a jovial way from friends. Melisa wrote a fantabulously funny post about her delusions of how it all came to be on her blog. Coincidentally, I was already scheduled to have lunch with Melisa and Michelle of Honest and Truly.
When we were seated at our table we were already laughing and having fun as I played up my new celeb status as eyes were rolled and belly laughs abounded. The waitress came to greet us and immediately said "You look so familiar". I almost wet my pants trying to hold back the laughter. Of course she was talking about Michelle and Melisa's notoriety in the "Eating Cheesecake and calling it Lunch Hall of Fame" and how she remembered waiting on them in the past.
I'm enjoying my 15 minutes and just hope that it isn't up quite yet.
Today I get to be the bug. What Now Dad has stealthily tagged me for a meme, and since I can't come up with anything original or amusing to write on my own He has bad teeth and his wife has confiscated meat from his diet while forcing him to eat tofu tacos I am a good sport, I am going to play along.
The Meme game is played as follows:
The person who is tagged goes to the first photo file on their computer and to the tenth photo in that file. The tagged person post the photo on their blog and tells the story behind it. Then the person tags a few people from the blogs that they read.
I am not nearly organized enough to keep my photos in folders, so I decided to blindly click on the first JPG file I saw and came out with this nugget of pure gold.
Why is this pic of such value as to be be compared with a rock that dwells deep under the dinosaur to family dog fertilized earth?
I knew you would ask that, and that is why I am prepared to tell you that this a rare pic is of me with my eyes open, a full smile and having a good hair day. A rare trifecta. and none other than Vodka Mom!
I had the privilege of meeting this fantastically funny and talented blogger at the BlogHer conference this past July. I knew that she would be attending and I shamelessly hunted through the crowds to spot her more aggressively than a wannabe tween groupie at Jonas Brothers concert. I even had the fabulous Melisa with 1 S, who does not share my affliction of being vertically challenged, use her hawk like vision to help me find this blogging hero of mine, and Melisa came through for me. She found Vodka Mom standing approximately 5 feet away from me at a party on the first night.
So what was I to do besides assault her faster than a teen boy rounding 3rd base and have a friend snap a picture before the poor lady even knew what had happened.
Ahhh, but my stalking and assaulting didn't stop there. Staying at the same hotel for 3 straight nights gave me loads of opportunity to provide cause for Vodka Mom to build a case for a restraining order to see, smile, wave and chat with this lovely and gracious lady.
I even happened to 'run into her' at 6am in the hotel coffee house. She was alone, drinking her morning coffee and working on her laptop. I did not let these facts stop me from sitting down to have a friendly conversation while she was cornered alone. While she was basically my hostage and I talked and had coffee, Vodka Mom stated that she needed an extra bag to lug home some of the weekends souvenirs and I quickly supplied her with one of mine reminiscent of girls throwing their panties to the Beetles on stage.
Stupid me. I got it all backwards. Elvis used to throw his sweaty scarves out to his fans as a keepsake. I just got to excited and erupted faster than Matthew Broderick in Biloxi Blues.
All joking aside, Vodka Mom is a warm, gracious and kind (not to mention funny) lady, who is even more vertically challenged than I, that I like to call, friend.
Oh and by the way, I am tagging
*Dear WeaselMomma is column that I write @ Dad Blogs, in which readers can send me advice seeking questions and I can inform them that if they are asking my advice, they are much worse off than they know.*
This edition of Dear WeaselMomma has been provided by "It's Party Time" and the letter Q.
Dear WeaselMomma,
How do I have a fantastic pity party for one? What would you serve? I’m not sure of the best pity party foods and beverages? Where is the best place to host it? What music do you recommend? And how can I let the person who is making me host this pity party know he/she has earned the number one spot on my all time “doo-doo” list? Waiting for your advice.
It’s Party Time
Last night around dinner time, with my fever creeping back and body ache inching it's way into my bones, I knew it was time for my next dose of cold medicine. That's about the same time that I remembered I had already taken the last dose of Nyquil in the house the night before. I called Mr. Weasel to ask if he would pick some up on his way home, only to find out he wouldn't be home for hours yet. I couldn't wait for hours.
The suggestion was made that I could drive to the store with Eldest Weasel and have her run in and get the goods for me, but if I had to leave the house anyway I may as well just go alone and run into the store myself. I only needed one item. Besides, I wasn't even sure that Eldest would be allowed to make the purchase of such state controlled and dangerous items like pseudoephedrine here in stupid Illinois.
So off I went to hit the cold and flu aisle of the store. We all have seen the 100's of confusing options we now have in cold medicine. There is cold & sinus, cold and flu, allergy & sinus, pain reliever- fever reducer- stuffy nose & cough. There is sore throat -fever reducing- lottery number- sinus relief. All varieties are made by 15 different brand names and come in formulas such as Childrens, Regular, Extra Strength and Max!
All of these products do have one thing in common though, they don't work! They all have pretty much the same active ingredients, just different packaging and marketing. It made me miss the good old days of a pharmacy aisle being chock full of hard core, artificially colored, sugar filled, alcohol based cold and cough medicines.
Sure, the main active ingredient in the old school cold medicines was alcohol, but they worked to relieve your symptoms enough for you to sleep and your body to get the rest it needed to fight off the germs. Let's not forget that alcohol has many far reaching medicinal qualities and was regularly prescribed by physicians for many an ailment throughout the ages. It works well as an antiseptic germ killer and an anesthetic. It works as a pain reliever and as a muscle relaxant. Black berry brandy can settle an upset stomach better than any antacid and port wine is one of the best cough suppressants ever known to mankind. Alcohol works wonderfully as an anxiety reliever and stress reducer. Yet, it has been yanked from our medicine cabinets because alcohol contains, well alcohol.
So, as I was reading marketing labels of all the cold medicine boxes on the store shelves, they were all sporting "Sugar Free", "Alcohol Free" and "no artificial colors or dyes" on the front of the boxes as selling points. "Pick me, I have no active ingredients!"
It made me long for the days of my childhood. If I had a toothache, my Dad would take out a shot glass and pour about 1 teaspoon of whiskey into it. He'd tell me to dip my finger in and rub it on the tooth and gum, then to pour the rest into my mouth and swish it around before swallowing. By George, it worked and would help the ache until my parents could get me to the dentist.
If you had a bad cough, out of the liquor cabinet came the port wine and you would be given a thimble full every so many hours. If you had a bad cold or flu, not only would chicken soup be on the stove, but hot tea spiked with a splash of brandy, whiskey, schnapps or whatever kind of liquor was in the house that the taste could be disguised with sugar and tea. You were encouraged to drink it down fast and hot and then to go lie down. These old home remedies worked and when cold medicines originally hit the marketplace, alcohol was the #1 ingredient. If a parent were to give a child any of these alcohol based home remedies today, they may get put in front of a firing squad, just for the high-fructose corn syrup factor, before they were burned at the stake for the abuse of giving a child booze, no matter how medicinal or small the dose.
In the end, I picked up my box of alcohol free, psuedoephedrine filled, Nyquil liqui-tabs and headed for the checkout, kicking myself for not having the energy to just go to the liquor department for a bottle of Brandy, port wine and some old fashioned aspirin.
Don't forget to stop by Dad Blogs for some other interesting insights on all things Fatherhood and Parenthood related.
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough,
sneeze, sneeze,
sneeze, sneeze.
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough,
sneeze, sneeze,
sneeze, sneeze.
And don't forget chills,
can't get warm
and I might just really freeze.
Okay, so I may not have all the talent of the Jingle Cats or those dogs who bark out Christmas carols, but this is the symphony that I have been performing for the past few days. It goes on and on like a broken record. Everyone in Weaselville is tired of hearing it and I am tired of playing it. It starts looping about every 5 hours and continues until the next dose of medication kicks in.
While I recuperate I offer you these small observations:
*Happy 234th Birthday to The United States Marine Corps and to my Dear Old Dad! Today I am re-posting what I had written for November 10th of last year, simply because I don't think I could state my thoughts any better if I were to rewrite it.*
Today is my Dad's birthday. It's not the actual anniversary of his birth, but his '2nd birthday' as he used to refer to it. Today marks the 233rd Birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Dad was a Marine. I know, I know, 'Once a Marine always a Marine', but Dad passed away 10 years ago. So 'was' seems an appropriate term.
Dad loved his birthdays, both of them. That is where I learned to love my birthday. Not that a kid needs a reason to love their birthday, but he taught me to always enjoy my birthday no matter how many years it was that I was celebrating. He taught me that my birthday was my own special day and that I should treat it as a special holiday. Through the years, I have realized that on this and many other topics, Dad was right. He was never about presents and cake, just about remembering and gesturing.
Dad always celebrated the Marine Corps Birthday. He always took a vacation day from work for each of his birthdays, although he rarely took a sick day. As a child he would always convince his mother to let him stay home from school as his present. None of his 7 siblings ever got the day off.
Dad never reminded us his 2nd birthday was coming. He never expected presents. He just wanted us to remember and acknowledge. Year after year we would wake up for school, enter the kitchen, see Dad and say "Why are you home?". "It's my birthday." was the response. Oops, forgot again!
Today I have not forgotten. Nor have I since I reached adulthood.
Dad was a real special kind of guy. Lots of people think that about their dad, but he really was. He was Joe six-pack. Jack of some trades, master of none. He was a dependable friend, a completely devoted husband and a great Dad.
Dad never gave himself credit for being very smart. He hated school and struggled with his classes. He used to call himself a 'dummy', but he was one of the smartest people I have ever met. He would discuss any subject. If it was something he didn't know about, he wanted to listen and learn. If it was a subject he disagreed about, he wanted to understand the other side. And if it was something that required thought, he was a man you wanted to hear from.
Dad was always extremely well thought out. He could always offer you a different prospective and a reason. You would never walk away without food for thought. He was a good sounding board and a great counselor.
Dad is also where I developed my sense of humor. He loved a good joke, especially if the players weren't in on it. He derived enjoyment from small pleasures and was self entertaining. Dad would stir up trouble just to watch it play out and have a good laugh. As we got older he would fill us in and have us enjoy the laugh with him as we watched the scene play out. Most of it was gut busting funny. He knew how to stir a pot. He could also entertain the room with the best stories. He was a one of a kind.
Dad understood how to handle a teenager. He knew how to get through to us when screaming and grounding were no longer deterrents and abuse had been outlawed. Once, and only once, on a Friday night when I was 18 ,and home from college for the summer, I stayed out all night all night at a local bar with friends (don't gasp like you never). I came home barely in time to change into my work clothes and in no condition to go to work at 6 a.m. Dad sat at the kitchen and said nothing more than 'good morning" when I entered the house. I changed and left for work ( a 2 block walk) and endured 8 hrs in an unforgiving, un-airconditioned kitchen in the city during August. Needless to say, by the time my shift was over at 2, I was ready for some rest and recuperation. I was sick to my stomach, sweaty, head pounding and exhausted. All I wanted was to hit my bed.
After I entered the house and before I could hit the sheets, Dad said to me "I need you to do me a favor". That was the unspoken kiss of death and I knew it. "I need my whites(laundry) washed for the morning". After that it was 'could you shine up my shoes, take care of the kitchen, the rug needs some attention, and the list when on and on until he showed some mercy around 10 p.m. I got the message. I never pulled that trick again.
There have been many times since his death that I have wished for his council, advice, comfort. There have been times that I have longed for his wisdom and company.
Today I will continue a tradition that began when I finally started remembering this birthday. I will bake a Birthday cake. I will not let the Weasels have any until they sing Happy Birthday to the Marine Corps. I think Dad would get a kick out of that.
I could go on until this became a book. There is so much more I could say say. So many more stories to tell. But what it boils down to is this; I love you Dad, Happy Birthday.
And a Happy Birthday to the Marine Corps and all Marines. Thank you for your your service. Semper Fi.
I love friends. I love Birthdays. So it naturally follows that I love celebrating friends birthdays. This is one of the many reasons that I was tickled and excited when I received a special invite to help celebrate a wonderful milestone birthday for a close friend by attending a girls day spa party at a swanky resort for an afternoon full of pampering and an evening full of friends, food and libations.
So when the special spa day invite came it put me into a conundrum. I could opt for the facial, but they just don't really do much for me except make my face break out worse than when I was 15. I could have a mud bath, but I could do that in my yard with the kids and the dog for free. I could opt for a mani/pedi/toe wax, but the swank prices were a little to much to pay for those services. Hmmm, what to do? What to do?
Then it came to me. I'll get a massage! Yes, sometimes I am just plain old stupid.
I convinced myself that if I only got the 1/2 hour hot stone massage with no deep tissue work, I would be fine. I would then top it off with 1/2 hour of reflexology (a swanky and fantastic foot massage). When all was said and done, I didn't want it to be over. It was so good and I felt so relaxed. Wrapping myself back up in my uber plush, thick and soft robe that I seriously considered putting in my bag to take home and heading into the dimly lit and serene lounge room to join some of our crew for snacks and water while lying on day beds waiting for Mark Anthony to come feed me grapes living the good life.
After a soak in the hot tub and few minutes making use of the sauna, it was time to dress and primp again before heading to the hotel lounge/bar to begin girls night out.
The company was delightful, the mood light, the drinks cold and the stools backless. After about an hour of sitting on these stools I knew I was in trouble. My neck started to tighten and ache. My back was still so relaxed that it refused to pick up the slack and support my neck like it usually does. The birthday girl spotted me and immediately recognized what was happening. Anyone who spends time with me regularly can spot the signs of 'she over did it'.
When it was time for our sweet ride to pick us up and take us to our next girls night out locale, our most wonderful hostess assumed correctly that I just needed to get home to my orthopedic pillow on my orthopedic bed and had the driver drop the gang off at the next party stop and continue on to take myself and another guest (who was recovering from a recent surgery) back to our cars.
I drove home and went straight to my bed upon entering the house. I had given Mr. Weasel a heads up phone call and he has all set to tuck me in with a handful of ibuprofen. Sunday arrived with me wishing I had a traction contraption set up in the house. I didn't get out of bed until noon and was back in bed by 5:00. This morning I am still relegated to the couch and pain pills that make me stoned groggy and my face numb, but help with the pain.
To so recap, I was the youngest gal at the party, yet felt like the oldest, and Weasels need to re-learn lessons about every 9 years. I am a moron, but I do it with style.
First and Foremost on this lovely Friday morning, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELISA with 1 S!!!!!!!!!!!! Please join me in heading over to The Suburban Scrawl and leaving her some birthday comment love, spread the word and maybe today she can have the most comments ever. What a nice present that would be!
In order to celebrate the momentous event, Melisa and I will be livestreaming a special Birthday Episode of Suburban Wow this morning at 10 est/9 cst. Tune in and join the fun by clicking here and interact with us via Twitter by using @ messages and following us and others who are watching and be part of the conversation.
Also, don't forget that it is Fatherhood Friday over on Dad-Blogs.com. Go read and enjoy. Don't forget that it is time to register for the Dad-Blogs Convention to be held in Chicago this July! Both Melisa and I will be attending and this would be a great chance to meet all of you. Moms are obviously welcome and there are lots of great things planned. If you register now, you can still get the early bird discount on registration. Room rates are a huge bargain @ $109/nt including wi-fi and cooked to order hot breakfast in an all suite hotel. You can't beat that deal. Click here for details.
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