The Joy of Giving

Many of you parent types already know the joy of taking of a six year old shopping to select Christmas gifts for family members.  Those of you who don't, run out and rent a six year old ASAP for this task.  You won't regret it.

Now onto the story............

Last week, with only 3 days left until Christmas, we finally got around to making the annual Weasel Family Trek to the mall to visit Santa and allow the Weasels to finish off their personal shopping lists.  We scattered through the mall in small groups, hiding our purchases as we randomly passed each other in the corridors and occasionally changed out shopping partners to ensure the utmost in discretion of our treasured finds.

I had the pleasure of taking Smallest Weasel around from store to store in search of a gift that she would choose for Mr. Weasel.  It was later in the afternoon, the mall was crowded and I was losing steam and enthusiasm fast.

Smallest Weasel led me from store to store where I spent much time explaining to her that "Dad doesn't really need a pillow pet" and "My pretty ponies might make a great gift for you, but let's think of a great gift for Dad".

Soon enough I managed to lure her into Brookstone, where she discovered that they have lots of boy stuff.  Within 45 seconds she was drawn like a magnet to a display of shiny metallic gadgetry, that she deemed to be perfect for the most important man in her life.   They even had some try me models that she could touch and play with.  The girl was sold!

My sweet little angel was thrilled that she had found something so pretty and perfect for her Daddy.  It was on sale and in her budget range. I was tired couldn't think of any good reason to talk her out of this purchase.  I chuckled to myself and shared a knowing smile with the sales clerk who had heard the entire exchange between Smallest Weasel and I as she made her selection, placed her purchase up on the counter and proudly paid for it with her own money.

The Buzz Pinpoint Mini Personal Massager

I personally couldn't wait to see Mr. Weasel's face light up when he opened it!  And light up it did!  Smallest Weasel was thrilled with how surprised Mr. Weasel was by his gift and had the joy of giving.  Mr. Weasel after shooting me eye lasers smiled big and gave a very grateful thank you hug and a kiss to his youngest daughter........

and they all lived happily ever after.

* This is not a sponsored or compensated post, just another day in Weaselville.

The Flu That Stole Christmas

'Twas the day after Christmas and I'm in the nest
hacking and sneezing, well I'm just a mess.

A virus has struck and I almost missed Christmas!
No matter how sick, I just couldn't miss this.

I made it 6 hours, from 4am until 10
before Mr. Weasel tucked me back in my bed.

Congestion and fever, a cough and a cold
The Weasels did have a great day, so I'm told.

Under my blankets, I napped cozily
while my family went to Christmas Mass without me.

Santa brought me some candies and an NHL pennant.
some chocolates and teas and candles nicely scented.

I'm still tucked in my blankets, all cozy in bed
as visions of Nyquil dance in my head.

Cough syrup with codeine and tea spiked with whiskey
I must get better soon, the Weasels do miss me.

Jello with chunks of Lord only knows what
sits in my stomach and wreak havoc in my gut.

My fever will break and I'll soon be myself
What on earth is the cat doing up on that shelf?

I'll feel better soon and get back in the swing
just in time to be well for the New Year to ring.

I hope you all had a wonderful season,
and remember what is truly the reason.

Making With The Merry

After taking my own advice about not pressuring myself about Christmas preparations and procrastinating too long relaxing like a slug all day Saturday, I woke up yesterday morning and realized that this coming Friday is Christmas Eve I swear that we skipped a week or two on the calendar AND I DON'T HAVE SQUAT DONE!

It's time to panic people.

We haven't been to see Santa yet.

I only started shopping yesterday.  I haven't even made my list or checked it twice.

Yesterday would be the same day that my microwave sparked, sputtered and started to burst into flames.  Oh, and it was also the day that Mr. Weasel's car decided that it wasn't up to the task of starting.  Mr. Weasel's gift to me this year will be a microhood combo and I will gift him with a car battery.

Oh yeah, yesterday was also the day that Eldest Weasel decided to tell me how bummed she is that I didn't bake as much this year as I usually do and that she and Middle wished that I had helped with the decorations so that our home would not look like I had contracted kindergarteners as interior designers.

I also found out yesterday that the Weasels are bummed that we didn't do a family Christmas card this year and that we don't have any real family traditions at Christmas like their friends do.  Baking, family picture and tree decorating are our traditions in Weaselville.

Can you say, WeaselMomma Christmas Fail?

In the spirit of the Christmas, St. Nicholas, making my children happy and building memories, you may not be hearing from me much this week as I seriously work to get my Christmas on and make with the Merry by exhausting myself to get all the shopping, decoration adjustments, cookies baking, video making, house prettifying and wrapping done.  Even if I don't feel like it.

Giving of my time, energy and talents to make this time special, magical and full of traditions will be my Christmas gift to the Weasels.  I think it's at the top of their list.

Confessions of a Blogger

Ah dear friends, readers and fellow bloggers, come on in and sit down.  I'll pour you a good stiff drink.  You're going to need it, because I am about to say things to you that bloggers aren't allowed to admit to, but are nonetheless true.  Things that you are never supposed to say in polite company, like telling about the random urge you had to trip the nun on crutches at the mall.  We all think these things, but I am about to say them out loud.  Well, type them anyway.

Bless me readers, for I am about to bloggy sin;

Numbers Matter ~ We all say how unimportant our amount of daily hits are to our blogs, but that's a lie.  I live and die on my hit count and check my stats constantly.  The truth is that I don't want YOU to care about my numbers, but I totally care about about my numbers.  A day with a good hit count and the cat is less likely to get kicked.  I wouldn't kick my dog because at 140 lbs, she could eat me.  If you really don't care about the number of site hits you get daily, then you have resigned yourself to being defeated in the blogosphere. I however am all about blog domination.

Comments are Crack ~ OHMYGOSH, I love comments.  Love them more than chocolate and diamonds combined.  A really good comment is better than a pedicure.  I hate checking my email and finding no comments or getting excited because I found lots of comments that all say, 'nice post. You should check out my link!'  Poor kitty cat.  Lack of comments can rain on my day.  However, comments from my regulars or an unexpected comment from someone I really admire will put me on cloud nine.  They like me, they really, really like me.  Total ego boost.

Come Follow Me ~ Yeah, we aren't supposed to get excited the number of followers we have or how many people have subscribed to the RSS feed.  Let me say that I check those numbers daily and when I lose even 1, I feel like a loser.  I am crushed and wonder why.  When I gain one, I feel like I just scored the winning goal.  When those numbers stagnate, I stagnate with a 1/2 gallon of ice cream on the couch.  You should all fight to keep WeaselMomma somewhat thin.

You Never Have Enough ~ When I first started blogging, I would jump for joy if I got 1 or 2 comments and 5 hits.  When I got used to higher numbers, God forbid if they went down even for one single day!  When they go up, I LOVE it, when they deflate, so do I.  I could get 100 comments a day for two months straight and is they went down to 80 a day, I would kick the cat be bummed.  Most of us, including I, would dance on a pole cut off a toe for 80 comments a day, but it will never be enough.  I'll always will want more.

It's All About Ego ~ When I attend blogging events and someone I don't know actually knows me, I feel like a rock star and I love it!  When no one else in the room has ever heard of me I feel like the kid who picks their nose and always sat alone in the cafeteria.

I Get Jealous ~ When a fellow blogger gets a great event invitation or gig with a brand or website, I am happy for them, but am also jealous and think, what am I chopped liver?  In reality, yes I am chopped liver sometimes.   I love when I get even small opportunities, but never feel as successful as I thought I would.  I would love the opportunity to make money on this blog and am not ashamed to admit it, as long as it would have zero influence on my words.

The biggest reality of these confessions, is that we are all human.  We are all insecure in own silent ways that are never to be spoken of.  We crave approval and attention from outside sources to keep us going.

I am a small fish in the open ocean.

I am a blogger and these are my confessions.

*Feel free to make my day an awesome one by commenting, subscribing to RSS feed, following me, tweeting this link, stumbling it or any other form of temporary ego boost you can throw my way.

Under Pressure

With the Christmas season in full swing around us, as we creep closer and closer to the big day as it draws nearer, there is a lot of pressure for all of us to make with the merry.  We hustle and bustle, wrap and bake, shop and visit all under the glitter of shimmering decorations and a mandate to be happy.

Unfortunately, there is much suffering that happens in this world and not everyone is feeling all holly jolly about the festivities.  Their are many all around us, friends, neighbors or family, who are grieving.  Grieving their financial situations or the loss of a job.  Grieving the death of a loved one or grieving life as they knew it as they face fearful and uncertain futures thanks to a recent medical diagnosis.

As I sit happy and content under the sparkle of my the Christmas Tree and the warmth of my home, I can't forget these people and I hope that you won't either, for I have been these people in Christmas' past.  All by the ripe old age of 38, I have buried my father, gave the legal consent to stop life support for my mother, buried a sister, a nephew and the most painful of all, a daughter.  I understand the pain that the holiday season can bring to those who suffer and how inescapable the holidays are.

In that vein, I'd like to offer some tips for holiday survival that may be of use to all of us, grieving or not;

Shop Online ~ If you have to shop because of children in your home, shopping online at your own pace can help you to avoid the crowds, decorations, music and glitz that you may not be up to dealing with.

Don't Deck the Halls ~ You can simply not bother with decorating your home inside or out.  If you feel the need to decorate for the kids or any other reason, you can keep it minimalist.  Take the pressure off of yourself and only do what you are up for.

Keep Your Plans Flexible ~ What may sound like a good idea today, may become a daunting obligation that you are not in the mood for next week. 

Communicate ~ Let your family and friends know that what you need right now is patience and understanding.  Let them know to keep their expectations low and that you will participate when you are up for it and that you don't have to when you're not.

Cut Yourself a Break ~ If you don't send out Christmas cards, diligently shop or complete all of the tasks that you had hoped to, don't sweat it.  It's okay.  If you won't cut yourself some slack, who will?

Don't Despair ~ Do what you have to to get through today.  If you can survive today, you can deal with tomorrow when it comes.  Keep life simple, take it as it comes and remember to breath.

Two Words ~ Ron Bacardi.  Ron gets along well with many of my closest friends including egg nog, cola and lime.

For the rest of us who are busy enjoying the holidays to the fullest, don't forget the people who are not.  Offer patience, kind words and gentle understanding for their lack of merriment without forcing festivities upon them.

Wishing you all Peace, Joy and Hope in your lives.

Jump, Jive and Snuggle

As you probably already know, I, the WeaselMomma have a special affection for teddy bears.  I still have my favorite bear that Santa ever brought for me as a child in all of her well worn and well loved glory. 

Over the years I have refused to grow up managed to build myself a collection of teddies (the hugging kind), but my favorite ones are the ones that I have made myself.  Now you are right, I am anything but crafty, actually, I'm very crafty, just not when it comes to crafts. so of course I am talking about bears that I have made at Build-A-Bear Workshop.

That's why when my friends at Build-A-Bear Workshop contacted me and asked if I would like to make a trip to my local shop and check out their Christmas collection of furry friends, including the new Speaker Starz Bear I jumped up and down with glee at the opportunity.  After all, making a trip to Build-A-Bear is part of my personal Christmas tradition anyway.

You see, I have been a fan of this special place for long before they were ever a fan of mine years.  Their furry friends have been a source of comfort for me when I just needed something to hug and snuggle and every year for Christmas I get a special outfit to dress my Claire Bear in for the holiday.  After all, the Weasels get new Christmas outfits every year.  It just makes me feel better to dress Claire Bear too.

Last Wednesday the Speaker Starz Bear was launched and after I dropped the Weasels off at school I headed out to go make one.  All. By. Myself.  I love going to Build A Bear for myself.  It's not just for kids.  Stop mocking me.  I happily made my bear, named he Bloggy Yes, I go through the entire ritual of kissing the heart and all. and went on to pick out a special Christmas outfit for Claire Bear who was tucked up in my bedroom at home.  It had to be just the right one.

Whatcha Think?

Once home I plugged my iPod into my new pal and cha-ching, I loved it!  The speaker is tucked into it's left foot and the sound quality was really quite good.... and it came preloaded with batteries!  There is something profusely awesome about Christmas in Hollis belting out of your teddy bear while it is sitting on the kitchen counter.  

Yeah, I got to Jump, Jive and Snuggle.

Check out their entire holiday collection online and take a few minutes to visit one of their workshops, with or without the kids, while you are out Christmas shopping anyway.  They make great gifts Mr. Weasel even wants a Bumble for kids of all ages.

Just to sweeten' the idea of what a great place this is to visit let me mention that

• You can play with your furry friend at Buildabearville.com for free.
• They partner with The Marine Toys For Tots program.
• They partner with the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.

And just to keep the FTC off my back and all, I'll let you know that Build-A-Bear Workshop provided me with the Speaker Starz Bear at no cost to myself.  I paid out of my own pocket for the Christmas outfit that I bought for my Claire Bear.  I have not been compensated for this post and as always, my words are always my own.

 

It's Virtually a Birthday Party!

Today is the big day,  my 38th birthday!  Thanks for coming to my virtual birthday party!  Come on in, sit down and make with the merry!

Here's how it works, leave any gifts, appetizers and/or libations in the comments.  Mingle with the other guests and pop back in out through the course of the day.

I am going to get my hair all done up and have my tiara placed professionally in it.  I'll be visiting with party guests and popping all around the celebration!

Most of all, have fun and feel free to bring friends along.

Thanks for coming, it's great to see you here and to to celebrate my favorite holiday with family and friends!

Best Christmas Pageant Ever!

~ Don't forget to tune into Suburban Wow this morning at 10 am est/ 9 cst/ 7 Pacific for a really fun episode! ~  Here's the direct link for show time.

Image via JuniorTheatre.com

I just got home from the annual school Christmas Pageant and thought I would share with you a few highlights of the evening.  Unfortunately lucky for him, Mr. Weasel was unable to attend this year due to a previous commitment.  That left me to feed, dress, supervise homework and get 4 out of 5 Weasels back to school by 6 pm.  Yay Me!

Surprisingly, we made it out of the door and arrived at school right on time without too much ado.  I walked Smallest Weasel to her classroom and headed to the the gym to find a seat in the sea of parents, most of whom had obviously never gone home after school dismissal in favor of ensuring themselves seating in the same time zone as the pageant was to take place.  I on the other hand may as well have been in the Presidential Inaugural crowd of Uncle Barry.

I took a single seat approximately 4 miles from the stage, right next to a joyous little 4 year old by the name of Julio (Julie-O).  Right away, I was welcomed with a great big and friendly "Hi!".  I still had half of an hour to kill before showtime and my mind started to wander as I contemplated the enjoyment that I would extract from the upcoming performance.  I thought to myself, "Ya know, with this seating, I could really sneak out the back door and have time to grab a couple of drinks and something to snack on, be back in time for the finale and the Weasels would never be the wiser".  Then I realized that I had not said that in my head, but out loud!  I'm one point closer to that Mother of the Year Award.

The show started with one of the 7th grade classes clanking trash cans playing the bells and I was reminded that these are indeed grade school children and I should not expect them to be of a caliber to play The Carol of The Bells.  uh wait, maybe that was The Carol of The Bells they were playing.  Nah, it sounded much closer to the Jingle Cats.

The kids really did do a great job and I love to see the Weasels perform.  The only real problem I have with these events is having to sit through watching 275 other parents children sing in order to see mine.  The one benefit though is that with a family of our size, 1/2 the performances (the better 1/2, of course) feature a Weasel.

Just as I was longing for the Herdman's to come barging down the center aisle, little Julio blurted loudly, "Would baby Jesus just get born already!".  My sentiments exactly kid.  I snickered to myself as wished I could take that kid home with me.

Boy Weasel was a Wiseman and when he was up on stage I told Julio that he was my boy.  Julio was impressed at how grown up Boy Weasel was, "That's your kid?  He has a beard!". 

The Pageant ended and I was glad that I opted to stay and had not to make a break for the back door.  I had a smile on my face as I waded through the herd and into the hallway to reunite with my Weasels and head home to tuck them snugly into their beds a little later than usual and wish for them some sugar plum dreams.

Yes, Little Weasel. There is a Santa Claus!

During his life, my father instilled in me many lessons that are much more important than anything I could ever learn in school.  He was a wonderful teacher, who taught me about life and how to truly get the most out of it.  I was lucky enough to learn at his knee philosophies on life that have rewarded me ten fold.

He taught me that my family is my greatest treasure.

He taught me to appreciate the friendship and devotion of a good dog.

He taught me to welcome each birthday as my own personal holiday, to be savored and enjoyed, no matter how many candles you have to blow out. (That is this coming Monday, btw)

And he taught me that, Yes, Little Weasel.  There is a Santa Claus!

Dad went to his grave still believing in Santa.  He took much flak over the years from co-workers and acquaintances who chided him about it, simply because they misunderstood.  Yet, he never quieted or back away from his belief.

As my siblings and I came of age to understand Santa on more than a magical level, he would explain to us that Santa is very much real and comes to us in ways never expected.  Santa is the spirit of doing for others.  Santa is the force behind small and large acts of kindness that you never take credit for.  Santa is the magic behind unexpected good will unto others and charitable acts to friends and strangers alike.  Santa is giving in the spirit of Christ and the God that St. Nicholas devoted his life too.

He taught me to never stop believing in Santa Claus and to continue his work throughout my life. 

I am proud to proclaim that I still believe in Santa and I am proud to be my father's daughter.

Meet The Family part I

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, Mr. Weasel and I were were engaged.  We came from different cultures and backrounds.  Mr. W having been a rural farm boy and I having been a street rat big city girl, you can only imagine that our families had very little in common with each other. Insert Green Acres Theme Song Here.

During this magical time, I had the chance to meet the family at Mr. Weasel's ginormous family reunion where I was meeting dozens of members of his bloodline for the first time, as they had traveled far and wide, to spend the day discussing the finer points of pig farming and debating about who had the biggest and best tractor with each other.  Oh, and let's not forget the best procedure for Do It Yourself farm animal castration methods.

As much as my mind was hanging onto every intriguing and insightful conversation that was swirling around me, I eventually meandered my way into the house to find a group of DNA sharing folks gathered around the talking radio television set that was already tuned into a COPS marathon.  I took this opportunity to blend in with my soon to be kin-folk and a chance to keep my mouth shut in order to save myself from further comment about my Philadelphia accent.

Not five minutes after I copped a squat on the floor of the living room and joined in the family bonding that is non-interactive entertainment, a new episode started.  COPS in Philadelphia!  My jaws remained closed that doesn't happen very often and I watched on as comments about the show and it's unintentional stars flew about the room.  I recognized local landmarks and areas, yet I kept out of the conversation.  That is until a police chase by car turned into a police chase by foot that ran right through the neighborhood where I had grown up and my parents still lived.

"THAT"S MY HOUSE!"........

managed to escape from lips at high volume and any conversation concerning cows coming into season and or debates about the pros and cons of artificial insemination and livestock came an abrupt halt and were then immediately forgotten.

I don't know who held the Best First Impression Ever Award that day.  All I know is that I hope some day to live it down.

Did You Ever, part I

~ Today I completely and unabashedly am stealing the style of this post from one of my blogging heroes, Momo Fali.  The post is mine, but the genius is hers. ~

Did you ever have a weekend when friends, who are as close to you as family, have come to town and you took your kids out of school on Friday so that you could all hangout together at the hotel pool for the day and eat peanut butter sandwiches in between dips in the whirlpool and sweating in the sauna,  all in one day before you spend Sunday bundling up the entire gang and taking the train downtown while drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows, laughing lots and wearing a pair of jeans that you haven't been able to fit in for two years that your oldest child swore just the other day that you would never be able to get one leg into just the other day and meet up with your friends at the outdoor German Christmas market where you drank warm spiced wine and hot chocolate and ate stuffed pretzels, potato pancakes and wiener schnitzel and bought a few absolutely gorgeous ornaments for the Christmas tree before you went to eat lunch together at the oldest and best Italian restaurant in the city and topped it off with a cannoli before you said goodbye to each other until summertime and hopped a train back to Weaselville?

Well, you should.

The Weasel Constitution

It's not often that I pull something out of the archives and re-post it.  However, this morning I came across an oldie, but a goody from way back when.  More than one commenter described it as 'genius' and thus I ask you to click through and read the Weasel Constitution;

Ask Not What Your Momma Can Do For You, But What You Can Do For Your Momma  



Have a great weekend!

Pasta! Pasta! Read All About It!

........Cause I won't share mine with you, you'll have to go order your own.

Life here in Weaselville is buzzing along busily as we, and I am sure most of you, make preperations for the biggest holiday celebration of the year ..........

MY BIRTHDAY!

Monday, December 13

In that vain, I want to share with you a special little present that I got myself.

First, a little back round....

If you are a regular around here, you already know that I was born and raised in Philadelphia. South Philadelphia to be exact.  A wonderful bastion of eclectic entertainment in the form of the Mummers and highly ethnic area of Italian immigrants sprinkled with vivacious pockets of Irish neighborhoods.

In the past, I have shared with you the masterpiece of mouthwatering satisfaction of a real Philly Cheesesteak. I make my own water ice that rivals, if not surpasses Italiano's.  Tastycake is the only boxed cake that crosses over these gums, but today I want to share with you the pure, unadulterated, joy that is P & S Ravioli Company.

P & S makes The Best, fresh, homemade pasta that has ever tickled my taste buds, bar none.  This I say as a woman with an incredibly picky palate who grew up eating in the kitchens of people who take traditional Italian Cooking and produce dinners that make Mario Batali look like Chef Boyardee.  Yes, my standard of good Italian food is set high.  

When I was a kid, our favorite answer to the age old question of 'what's for dinner?' was, you guessed it, P & S.  Their ravioli makes me want to dance cheese is my favorite.  Their sauce is something that I can eat by the spoonful.  It's smooth and clingy thick without any chunks I hate chunky sauce.  Their pastas are so tender, yet firm don't ever overcook pasta for me.  I'm melting just fantasizing about it.

So anyway, I haven't had the sheer delight that is P & S in about twenty years and yes, I still dream about it.  It's that good.  and every so often I still get a craving for it that I can't ignore.  However, they are family owned and local to the Delaware Valley, i.e. Philadelphia area.  I called a few years back to see if they would/could ship their little delicacies, but alas they were not yet equipped for the task.  My longing would continue.

So, to make a short story longer, two days ago I had an intense want for their cheese ravioli in my mouth,  I had to settle for elbow macaroni and butter. and decided to check if they were online yet or had starting shipping.  Eureka!  I hit the jackpot!  They are online and they now ship anywhere in the country!  Their site is still pretty old school, but if you call them you can place your custom order.

I decided that I wanted P & S for my birthday dinner, just as I had done so many years long ago.  The next morning I got on the phone with Patty whose accent put an even bigger smile on my face and she helped a girl out.  Uber friendly and happy to get me this special treat that I have been hanging for.  Those of us that have eaten the manna that is this pasta truly understand.

I ordered 3 dozen cheese ravioli, 3 quarts of that luscious sauce and 3 lbs of spaghetti,  I should have ordered some linguine too. and got off the phone as giddy as a school girl and went running upstairs to tell Mr. Weasel all about it.  He, having never known this culinary delight, is looking forward to eating it.  Yet, couldn't help himself from laughing at me and my excitement,  "You sound all hot and bothered about this stuff".  I am.  P & S can only be described as a taste-gasm and I can't wait until next week.  I might not share with him.

It doesn't take much to make me happy.  It's all about the simple pleasures and when I find a pleasure this good, I savor it. 

*BTW - No, this is not a paid review.  It's just that when there is something this good that I find in life, I opt to share it with you, my dear readers.  I paid for my own order and have not received any compensation for advertising or links.  However, if P & S wanted to send me a t-shirt that reads 'My pasta kicks your pasta's butt' and a life long supply of ravioli and sauce, I wouldn't stop them.

An Answer To My Prayers

To: God The Almighty Father
cc: St. Peter in Heaven
Re: Answering My Prayers
From: WeaselMomma

Dearest Heavenly Father,
      In this time of faith, hope and gratitude, I would once again like to thank you for all the years we have worked together and the relationship that we have built that has been the cornerstone of the success of Weaselville. 

     However, without diminishing my ongoing gratitude, there have been a few points of miscommunication between myself and your staff that I would like to rectify for our future dealings, so as not to become points of contention in our relationship in the coming years.

1.  When I prayed for a husband that would always be able to provide for me, dirty looks, dirty laundry and dirty dishes were not on the list of provisions that I had in mind.  The dirty mind, however, was an unanticipated bonus.
2.  When I prayed that my home would always have an abundance of humor, I did not necessarily intend for it to be at my expense.  Case in point, I offered Eldest Weasel some useful coupons to consider using when shopping for a gift for me and she replied, "where to? Lane Bryant".  In all reality, this was actually hysterical, but This was not the laughter that I had expected.
3. When I prayed for children that would grow to be independent, but not so independent that they wouldn't need me, I did not intend that they only need me as their personal ATM, personal shopper, housekeeper and personal valet.
4. When I prayed for children that would bring me so much joy that the choirs of Angels in Heaven would sing, I never imagined that those choirs of Angels would be singing the Beer Barrel Polka  and laughing themselves silly with the refrain of "That naive lady only asked for healthy, so we threw in feisty for good measure". 
5. When I prayed that you grant me the Grace of patience to endure family life and struggles, testing your handiwork with challenges that could snap the disposition of a Saint was a little overboard.  In the future, I think it would be best if I learned to crawl before I have to walk.

Once again, I have full gratitude for the relationship that you and I have continued over the years and am grateful for all that you have provided Weaselville.   In the future, I will consider my words more carefully for the purpose of complete clarification and thus diminish the possibility of miscommunication between us during prayer.  However, if the misinterpretations continue in this fashion, I will have to correspond my prayers in written form to you, after having my attorney gloss over them to ensure no further loopholes are to be exploited.

Yours in Christ,
WeaselMomma

No Thanks, I'll Drive.

Next month I am getting away for a few days to spend some time with one of my BFFs who lives a couple of states away. Yay, Me! The getaway is her birthday gift to me and she has offered to fly me to out for a visit in celebration of the biggest holiday of the year.  How cool is that?  I say very.

However, the more I think about it, the more I don't want to fly.  Mind you, I am not afraid of air travel, nor have I ever had any anxiety about boarding a plane,  until now.  It's not mechanical failure or security threats that have me anxious and unwanting to fly, it's the TSA and airport screening procedures.

The implementation of full body scanners does more than give me the hebejebees, it invades my privacy to a unacceptable degree.  Sure, I can opt out of that scan, but that means subjecting myself against my will to an 'enhanced pat down' that is a little too close to molestation for my comfort in it's aggressiveness.

The body scanner reveals nude black and white pictures of the subject in such detail that you can determine an individuals personal grooming preferences.  Plain and simple, that's nothing short of pornography and you're not even paying the subjects.  If I wanted you to see me naked, I'd be naked.  No thanks.  I don't care if it's one person viewing the images or a bachelor party.  I deserve my privacy and the scanner goes too far.  Of course procedures and protocols are in place to ensure that your image doesn't show up on the internet or the local bar, but you can go ask Domino's Pizza and Burger King about procedures being broken.

If you opt out of nude photos of yourself being taken and analyzed, you get fondled for free!  The 'enhanced pat down' involves someone groping and grabbing at your genitals and breasts.  That's a little too intimate for someone who hasn't even bought me dinner.  If you did this to someone on the street or in a bar, you would be in jail facing sexual assault charges and getting labeled as a sex offender for the rest of your life.

Neither of these options allow me to maintain any semblance of privacy or dignity. It's too much. I certainly would not want to subject my children to being searched in this overly invasive way.  If these procedures happened at school, the cops would be called.

Yes, I understand air safety and the threat of terrorism, but not at the cost of such a personal and intimate invasion of my body is plain and simple not worth the perceived benefit.  Nor is the convenience of flying worth the loss of my dignity or a personal assault on my body.

There are better and less invasive ways of identifying possible security threats in our skies.  Save the scans and or the uber intimate pat down for individuals that send up red flags behaviorally or give some other cause for a more invasive search to be necessary.  I'm already taking off my shoes and belt,  emptying my pockets and submitting to a metal detector.  

I let my BFF know, that yes indeed, I will be coming to visit.  However, I will be driving.

Reverse Karma

kar·ma[kahr-muh]the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deeds in the previous incarnation.  ~ Dictionary.com

Life in Weaselville isn't all that much different than life in any other home it's just faster paced, harder hitting and more chaotic, except things here will always be a strange twist on the reality of the way things work in a normal home.

Like many of you, we have tightened the belts, cut out unnecessary spending and given up a few luxuries that we had become accustomed too.

One of life's little pleasures that I have given up is my manicure/pedicure pampering sessions and I do miss them dearly.  I have to keep reminding myself that they are a want and not a need.  Anyway, the other morning my phone rang.  It was a dear friend of mine who invited me to go get our mani/pedi's together this weekend - her treat!  I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I immediately started doing my happy dance accepted without so much as a polite 'oh I can't let you do that'.

Not too long after that, I left Weaselville to go check in on another dear friend, Patsy, who happens to be the mother of 1st dear friend to sneak in a game of cards and see if she could use a helping hand. Boy was she glad I did.

Patsy's health and mobility are limited  but her card playing skills are shark like and I let myself into her home to find her faithful companion Lady's health wasn't too great either that morning.  Poor Lady* had some major digestive problems happen all over the house  and I do mean all over.  The mess had Patsy confined upstairs, as she was unable to navigate around the landmines nor get down to clean any of it up and let Lady outside.

Now you must understand that I have a gag reflex that is unparalleled in it's ferocity am not good with cleaning up after pets, but alas looking around the room I found myself to be holding the sh*tty end of the stick the best and most qualified person for the job.  I grabbed the paper towels and a bag to get straight to work on the monumental task in front of me.  Or tried to at least.

Every time I got close to a toxic contaminated liquid landmine, ye old gag reflex was faithfully at my side.  Poor Patsy had to listen to the awful sounds that were emanating from the living room to accompany the aroma of sick dog that permeated her home.

I took me a while, and 3 or 4 trips sprinting to the bathroom to avoid making the clean up job any bigger than it had begun but the mess eventually was gone and the carpets one again were clean and disinfected.  Patsy was grateful and I was glad to have been there to help when she needed me.

What's my point?  Life in Weaselville will always march to a different beat.  The laws of Karma may be at work, but here they will always work in reverse.

When something good happens to be, I should remember to look up because the other shoe is about to drop.

*Later that day I took Lady to the vet and she is doing much better now.

Happy Birthday, USMC!

Today is the 235th birthday of the United States Marine Corp, and by proxy - my father.

Dear old Dad left this earth twelve years ago, but he has never left my heart.  He left behind a wonderful legacy of children and grandchildren, but most importantly  he left behind his wisdom and knowledge for me to benefit from.

Dad was always the one I turned to when I had a problem or dilemma.  He was a great sounding board and always left you with food for thought from an angle that you hadn't considered.  He had a talent for simplifying what at first seemed to be the most complicated issues.  He was my pillar and my guide.

When we found out that Dad was dying and his time left on this earth would be very short, we were all upset.  It was odd to speak to someone about there own imminent death and get their input.  To grieve with the soon to be deceased was a gift that I will never forget.

I said to Dad, "I don't know how to live without you.  You are my pillar, you are my support, my shelter in a storm and that steady constant in my life.  Even though I am grown, it always comforts me to know that you are there".

Dad replied to me, "No.  You haven't needed me in years.  You have Mr. W.  he is your support, pillar and best friend.  He is the one you have depended on for years.  He is your comfort and your partner in life, just as it should be.  You will miss me, but you replaced me with your husband long ago."*

This gave me comfort and put everything into perspective.  He was right and only then did I realize that I was the last person to recognize that this morph had happened years prior.  Dad was still an important part in my life and I loved him, but he hadn't been the shelter that I would run to in an eon.

So yes, I miss Dad and think of him often, but I have survived and thrived just fine for more than a decade without him.  Most of all, I just want to wish him a Happy Birthday, on this his 2nd birthday of the year.

Semper Fi! 

Please Tell Me That You Didn't Sell The Farm

I'm a city girl that married a country boy.  We compromised and live in the suburbs.  Needless to say, the culture differences between our two families are vast.

A few weeks ago, my farm living parents in law called to let us know that they were driving out for a visit - the next day!

This wasn't much notice, but that wasn't too big of a deal.  I rushed around the house in an attempt to get ready for guests and kicked Eldest Weasel out of her bedroom after having her clean it and bring me her sheets to be washed readied the guest room.

Most everything was ready and I was busy in the kitchen when the door bell rang, alerting us that our company had arrived.  Mr. Weasel answered the door to greet his parents, but instead of the expected sounds of a reunion, I heard silence followed by, "WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU DONE?????".

This could not be good.  I rushed to the front door to find out what all of the hub-ub was about.  What I saw was reminiscent of this;


After picking my jaw up off the ground, I hugged my in-laws hello and pleaded with them to, "Please, tell me that you didn't sell the farm". 

No, they did not sell the farm Thank God, but opted to buy the RV so that they no longer need to board the dogs when they travel to visit us.  Yup, you read that right.  Cousin Eddie's RV came complete with two full size German Shepherds that are used to roaming 25 acres at will.

Once Mr. Weasel regained his composure, we went to take a brief tour of this home on wheels that was parked outside my front door.  His only comment to his parents was that he didn't want to hear this;


Yuppers, my life is one big Christmas Vacation!

He Loves Me, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah....

Many of you already know that Mr. Weasel and I have been married for a fairly long time and can surmise that we have a little something special going on to have six kids together yes, that must be going on too and still happen to seriously dig each other.

What you may not know is that Mr. Weasel and I are not romantics in the traditional style.  It's not that we don't enjoy romantic gestures, it's more that I am much more practical and show affection through simple actions such as pointing and laughing playful banter and Mr. Weasel marches to the beat of the hamster wheel rattling around in between his ears a different drummer.

Why am I telling you this?  I am telling you this so that I may share with you something that struck me as fantastically funny and gave me the opportunity to point and laugh while making me fall head over heels for the Mr., yet again after all these years.

A few weeks back, Mr. W. and I headed out of the house for a special night out together, complete with dinner and dress shopping for him shut up. It was for his   Halloween costume.  As a mood setter, my sweetheart set his MP3 player to his play list of "romantic, love songs that always make me smile and think of you",  Commence with the Awwwwwwww-ing. simply titled "Twitterpated"  You know, like in Bambi.

I smiled as his sweetness and melted when the first song in his list was one of my all time favorites, L-O-V-E.


Soon though, my expression changed to quizzical when the next song began. 

and I quote; "I ask your mother if you were at home
She said yeah but you weren't alone

Oh sometimes I think that you're avoiding me"

Soon quizzical turned to morbid with Queen.

"When I’m gone
Don’t stop to wonder if I ever think of you
The same moon shines
The same wind blows
For both of us, and time is but a paper moon. . . be not gone"

This is the point when I started cracking up.  This goes on his list of love songs?  Exactly what did he have planned for this evening, anyway?

I was then relieved to come back into the realm of 'normal' with another personal favorite, even if in a less traditional version by Steve Tyrell.



A few more songs and I was back to quizzical with Michael Buble` and Down With Love. ??????????


In the midst of my laughter that surrounded the incongruity of this romantic play list, I enjoyed my heartiest eruption of the evening when the list ended with something completely perfect and Weaselesque in summing up Weasel Love,
 

Yes, it's a kick in the head and I wouldn't want it any other way!

Tuesday Tidbits (part ?)

In an effort to get my creative juices flowing again I have been mulling over the goings on in Weaselville and thinking about all the angles I could write about.  Alas, I'm finding that I am full of randomness, so I'm just going to run with it and throw some Tuesday Tidbits your way.

~ I have already told you that my old tried and true coffee maker died on me a few weeks back.  Well, I have since replaced it with the updated model of itself.  It's the shiny, metallic red color that I love and looks beautiful in my kitchen.  However, it makes some lousy coffee.  It must be because it is all clean on the inside or something.

~ It's hockey season once again and that makes me happy, but most of the games that I want to see I am unable to watch from my couch.  That's a pain in my neck and in the wallet.  No, I will not sign up for the special sports package.

~ An acquaintance of mine has promised me tickets to the only regular season game this year where the Flyers will face off against the Blackhawks, in January.  This is huge, as these are coveted tickets in this town.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he comes through with this incredibly generous gift.

~ Halloween was a big hit, as usual.  Of course in all the commotion of readying the Weasels, preparing a meal that kids could eat at will, hosting seven stray Weasel friends and handing out candy, I forgot to pull out my camera.

~ Yesterday I received a phone call from school.  Smallest Weasel was in the office and complaining of a headache and stomach ache.  No fever and she did not want to come home.  It was decided that she was simply over tired and suffering from a Halloween Hangover, 6 year old style.  The wonderful ladies in the front office agreed, gave her a placebo and she happily trotted back to class.

~ Report cards came home last Friday.  Can you pass me the Tums?

~ Today is election day and I look forward to getting to the polls.  I also look very forward to an end of all the commercials, phone calls, mailings and wall to wall news coverage of every race in the nation.

That's all for now, folks.  Here's to hoping that I get my creative juices flowing again soon.

Dude Looks Like A Lady

I have been off the radar lately and although I have about 100 excuses that I could throw out there to you, the best by far is that last weekend Mr. Weasel and I took off together for the weekend and headed north to Wisconsin to attend Mrs.4444's annual Halloween Blowout Party and I have been recovering sleep ever since.

It was the first time in 4 years that the two of us got to sneak away alone and it was well worth the drive.  Remind me someday to tell you all about the last time we went away together.  We took our time getting up there on Friday stopping at the casino for lunch along the way.

Our host and hostess were as wonderful and beautiful as ever.  What a sight for sore eyes they were.

For the first time ever, I got a chance to play with a life size Barbie Doll and dress up with Mr. Weasel.

I gasped and almost soiled myself by way of laughter when I saw this picture of Mr. W and realized exactly how much he looks like his mother.

And what weekend getaway fairytale would be complete without the magical kiss of true love that begins the happily ever after?

We had a fantastic time and this year, unlike last year,  I was bright eyed and bushy tailed by 6 the next morning and ready to work 'clean up crew'.  We didn't get much cleaned up, but we sure had fun trying.  Too bad the same couldn't be said for Mr. Weasel, but I thinks that's because of the guys who kept buying him drinks all night in hopes of getting his phone number.

The Weasel Dream Tree House

I don't know about you, but I never had a tree house to play in during what turned out to be my misspent youth.   It really wasn't conducive to the urban landscape of my childhood, but it would have been nice.

We did have four trees that lined the sidewalk in front of our house, that we would climb regularly.  Once my brother even started to nail some wooden planks into one of them to serve as a make shift tree house, but that was short lived thanks to the crotchety old couple that lived next door to us.  These were the people who's house you you purposely skip during Trick or Treating, no matter what kind of candy they were handing out.

Needless to say, none of my friends had tree houses either.  In fact, I have never known anyone who actually had a real honest to God tree house, until now.  Well, kind of 'know'.  We've never actually met, but we have talked and I have been a voyeur of her family for about 2 years now. 

Holly, who writes the blog June Cleaver Nirvana, has 3 boys, who thanks to their grandfathers handy building skills, have a tree house so tricked out that Phineas and Ferb would be impressed.

Wanna see?

Tree House

 Photo courtesy of June Clever Nirvana 

Seriously, this place looks like the Club Med of childhood hangouts.  Actually, it looks like a place I would personally want to hang out and it's big enough to throw a party for grownups, complete with wait staff. 

It has a fire pole!  There is room for lawn chair seating!  Check out the spiral staircase!  I think I could actually live up there.  Can you tell that I am a little bit jealous?  I Think that I could get over that though, in exchange for an invitation to come play in it with Holly someday. 

I hope that they pimp it out for Halloween and make their own Tree House of Horror, but I can definitely say that this would be the WM Dream Tree House and they aren't even finished building the additions!

*Full disclosure, Compensation is being given for the link love.  I hope it comes in the form of a patio chair engraved with my name on the veranda.

Politically Incorrect

So I have come across some reading material lately that seriously disappointed me.  Everyone has become so seemingly progressive and passive in their thinking, that they fail to take into account any amount of common sense.

I read of a middle school child who was both physically and emotionally bullied for three years.  His parents addressed this on many occasions with the school and nothing was ever done about it, much to the parents dismay.  The child never defended himself, nor did the parents want him too.  The parents taught their son never to hit and were proud that he remained non violent.  After three years of their son enduring daily bullying and the schools lack of action to put a stop to it, the parents hired a lawyer, in part, because of a fear that their son would commit suicide before the bullying stopped.  They never wanted to be seen as those parents, causing trouble and calling lawyers.

Bullying is wrong.  Schools should not tolerate it on their grounds.  This child should have had trusted adults to ensure his safety while at school.  I completely agree.  I am not a violent person, however that child should have been defending himself and should have been encouraged by his parents to do so.  IT IS NEVER WRONG TO DEFEND YOURSELF!  It's called self defense.  The parents relied on the school and the district to protect their son and when they failed their son, it still took the parents three years of the poor kid tolerating this, to the point of parents fearing for his life, before they decided to look to the law to defend him?  Seriously?

I personally would have insisted that my child defend them self and in fact I have done so in the past.  I do not advocate violence, but I do advocate self defense.  I teach my children to always defend themselves and anyone smaller or weaker than themselves.  Bullies like easy targets, because bullies are in fact cowards.  Standing up for yourself, win or lose, sends a message that you will not be an easy target.  Also, you walk away with your self-esteem in tact knowing that you stood up instead of just having it beat out of you.

As a mother, I would have not waited three years to take some sort of action when the school/district wouldn't.  I would not care about other peoples impressions of me or possible labels when it came to the protection of one of my children.

What's going to happen to that poor kid when he runs into a violent situation in real life, when he doesn't have a lawyer, a teacher, or a mommy holding his hand?

The 1st and only person to ever try to mug me wound up with his arm broken at the shoulder.  My parents taught me to defend myself.  I was 17.

The other disappointing read was a hubub about bloggers and high fructose corn syrup or rather how some community of bloggers or another were given gift cards or something in exchange for writing about high fructose corn syrup not being the anti-Christ.  These writers were called names and accused of being sell-outs, blah, blah, blah.

I had absolutely nothing to do with this campaign what-so-ever.  I don't even know any of the players, but I say, seriously?

Everybody has their own own opinions about what they want their family ingesting.  Some people choose organic.  Some people choose to 'green'.  Some only want all natural arsenic is a natural substance or no msg. Some families have to contend with food allergies. Everyone is allowed to have their opinion and to use their shopping dollar in any way that they choose is best for their family.  I think that's great and encourage it.

I personally don't think that high fructose corn syrup is evil.  There is no moral conundrum about the issue. It's not made of soylent green or anything. Sure, I think that straight sugar tastes better, but I have no issue with the substance and my family ingests it.  I don't find it to be harmful to them in any way.  My family also ingests real butter (we dislike the taste of margarine), red meat, fried chicken, white bread and all sorts of things that may have been banned from other homes.

 We are also all happy any healthy.

If someone wants to send me money or gift cards because I stated my opinion on this, contact me via email it would not make me a sell out.  It would make me a few bucks wealthier than I am currently.  It would not change my words on my blog.  If someone writes their opinions about local organic vegetables is the only way that their family rolls and got paid to do it, they wouldn't be selling out either.

Maybe I am not being politically correct here, but I am being real and honest.  I think that's why most of you come here to read anyway.

Weekend Round-Up IV

This turned out to be an incredibly busy and fun weekend in Weaselville.  A top of the normal amount of mayhem that Weaselville is famous for, Boy Weasel had a few of his buddies sleep over in celebration of his birthday.  Lucky for them me, these are all good, low maintenance kids that I like and don't mind having in close proximity to myself. 

Simultaneously, Weaselville was descended upon by Grandparent types bearing awesome gifts in the form of an entire freezer full of Bessie, Yee-ha, homegrown, farm raised beef rocks! curtains hung in a Weasel bedroom, repair and rehanging of a storm door that had been seriously getting on my nerves every time I tried to open or close it and a clothing shopping spree for Boy Weasel whose growth spurts have been impossible to keep up with.  Thanks, Grandparent types!

We made our annual trek to our favorite apple orchard/farm for the sole purpose of picking up a few of the best homemade fruit pies on earth to take home fun, family quality time.  We spent the day riding ponies, getting lost in mazes, eating yummy fresh apple donuts, jumping our brains out on a giant bounce pillow and visiting the petting zoo.  Of course, I forgot to bring along the video camera.

We celebrated Mr. Weasel's occupational success as his new company earned their first revenue of 15¢ with mimosas!  Three nickels never tasted so good.

Last night, Eldest Weasel, five of her friends and I had a haunting good time taking a walking tour of Haunted Naperville.  More to come on that in another, un-sponsored, post.  Probably Wednesday.

Last, but certainly not least, after having declared my love for my morning beverage of choice and paying homage to the trusty vehicle of it's daily delivery, I woke up this morning to find the coffee pot on life support.  All of the lights were on an registering, but all of it's internal systems had failed.  I had to pull the plug.  In lieu of flowers, send freshly roasted beans.

A Love Affair

You are my friend. 

You are there for me when I reach for you in the early hours of the morning.

Your warmth wraps around me and I drink you in.

I love your scent when I am holding you close.

You give me a second wind when I feel weary and help carry me through the longest of days.

I love sitting and holding you in silence and I love when I am able to share you with friends.

You are always there for me and for that I am grateful.

Now if only the Weasels would keep their mitts off the creamer.

Cruising the 2010 Camaro

Move over Tracy Chapman, it's WeaselMomma who gets the fast car.

General Motors was kind enough to loan me the 2010 Camaro RS for a long weekend.   I was in no way compensated for this post or video. 

I was kind enough to document the experience for you.  Or the parts of it that I would admit to in court, anyway.  Watch the video and you will also get the first ever glimpse of Mr. Weasel on World of Weasels.


Melisa and I actually broadcast Suburban Wow last Friday morning from the front seat of the Camaro.  Why?  Because we could and it was fun.  Going back to the kitchen studio will never be the same.  We had a great show that was a hoot.  Especially when we talked to/interviewed the OnStar operator during the live show.  She was a great sport and had Melisa and I laughing hysterically.  You totally want to click the link and watch the show.

This car was awesome and I almost teared up when I had to give her back this past Monday.  Everybody loved this car. Even my garbage man, who has never uttered a syllable to me in the past 6 years, stopped to chat it up and take a peek.  When I realized that I had forgotten to place the necessary stickers on my garbage cans prior to pick up, he told me, "Ah, don't worry about it" and took my garbage anyway.  That is a first.  That's the power of the Camaro.

Sure, It's not quite the same as free drinks, but I'll take it. 

I really had a great time playing with the Camaro and logging as many miles as I could fit in.  I've never driven a car that was this much fun.  The handling, performance and comfort were amazing.  She had more horsepower than you could ever legally use 304hp and a V6.  Simply fantastic.  Driving her was just a plain old good time.

Once I get a few of the Weasels out of the house and off to trade school college, guess what I'm going to trade in the minivan for?

If Mr. Weasel ever wants to drive one again, he'll have to get his own.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Life in Weaselville has is it's own unique little flavor, as I'm sure most of your homes do too.  We do things a little differently around here, bordering on odd.  For instance, I have found that most of the money that we have spent to furnish the Weasels bedrooms with beds, has been squandered.

Seriously.  I could sell their beds at a garage sale and only Monkey Weasel would object. She is the only one who actually uses her bed on a regular basis and she sleeps atop of her sheets and comforter and never under them.  Go figure.

Right now, at 5am, Boy Weasel is sleeping on his bedroom floor with all of his bedding.  He does this so he can cuddle up with Matilda the Hun, who happens to be asleep on the floor next to me in the living room and not with Boy.

Middle Weasel is asleep on the floor in the hallway, right outside of her bedroom door, in a makeshift nest that she builds every night.  Weasels must be more more comfortable nesting than being tucked in.

Eldest Weasel is in the living room sleeping in the recliner laid out like a business class seat on an overseas flight.

Smallest Weasel is on the love seat in the living room snuggled up with her cat.

Mr. Weasel is on the couch with his trusty laptop.  He hasn't even gone to bed yet, nor will he get to for at least another 15 hours.  Poor guy has been working himself to death.

All of the Weasels actually kiss goodnight and start off in their own beds at assigned bedtimes, but after an initial spell of sugar plum dreams they become wandering nomads and migrate from their original resting places, often more than once.

I too have my own sleeping rituals, but always in my own freshly made bed with the pillows situated just right, the perfect amount of cozy and my sleep number set at 100.   If all isn't just how I want it, no sleep will come.  It's the Princess and the Pea complex, I guess.

I should really set up some night vision cameras around the house, just to watch the migrations of the Weasels in their natural habitat.  It could be a Discovery Channel special or something akin to Wild Kingdom, only with the Weasels.  It could be called something like, "What happens after 'Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep'". 

Pit Bulls and Pit Falls

Yesterday, I was sitting down playing some cards with six of my closest friends whom I had never met before, when howdy do's and conversation erupted at the other end of the table.

One man, who completely fit the bill of expectation, decided to share with the rest of us that he breeds pit bulls.  I actually have nothing against pit pulls.  I grew up with a real sweetheart of a pit bull, but any who......

This particular man held much pride in announcing that "I breed them myself.  I do it all myself".  He even pulled out his wallet to show pictures o his puppies off.

I, being me, had to interrupt him right there and backtrack for a moment.  "Hold on a sec......, did you just say that you breed pit bulls, yourself?".

Walking right off that cliff the man reiterated in a boastful fashion that yes, indeed "I do it all.  I breed them, I clip their ears, tails, all myself".

I couldn't let this go, "Your telling us that you don't contract the breeding out?".

"No, ma'am.  I personally breed them".  I didn't even feel bad anymore about pulling the metaphorical rug out from under his feet.  After all, he called me ma'am.  I don't look old enough to be a ma'am.  Shut up.

It was time for me to pull that trap door lever now that he was squarely standing atop it and let him pit fall.  "Well, okay then.  I personally would have another dog do the breeding part, but to each his own".

The rest of the table found this highly amusing, sans breeder man.  The dealer nearly fell over laughing and announced that I am very funny.  Maybe I am funny, but maybe I am just a little stupid too.  After all, I just ticked off a man who breeds pit bulls.

Halloweekend Weasels

We had a great time this past weekend at Cedar Point Amusement Park.  Our family has been going to Cedar Point for years, but had never been there during Halloweekends festivities, that run every weekend from now until Halloween. 

The entire park is decked out in subtle and not so subtle Halloween decor that was very well done.  There are haunted houses that are appropriate for every age level and every and every courage level.

What I liked the best is that they scare old school style.  The scare level in the haunted houses for the teen/adult crowd were high, but they didn't need to rely on gore and chainsaws to pull it off.  They instead relied on well designed and decorated haunts, acting and costuming to get your heart pounding.  I can't even tell you about about my favorite bit of camouflage.  I wouldn't want to ruin it for you.

The rides were as great as ever.  The Weasels had a fun filled day at the park and I got to make a fun video to document it all.  The only thing I would do differently next time would be to take two full days in the park in order to have time to see all of the haunted houses and hit a few more coasters and to stay at one of the hotels on the premises.  That way I could stay with the older Weasels at the park longer while Mr. Weasel could take sleepy little Weasels off to bed when they were ready.   Yeah, there was just that much to see and do.

*Weasel Family admission to the park was complimentary.

That's Not Her Style

I'm not that kind of girl.  Stop Laughing.  I'm not.

Sure I have been seen drinking beer with on some swanky dates on the arm of some Public Relations and marketing types at local bars A-list parties.  I've had a few drinks, some good times and a lot of laughs, but I have always been treated like the consummate lady of virtue and none of these romancers have ever attempted to defile that virtue.

I've not done anything to sully my reputation as a blogger.  If you have the pictures to prove otherwise, you were at Blogher '09, you are not in PR and I will disown you if you ever go public with them.

I will only court gentleman callers PR reps that treat me like a lady.  Sure, you can buy me dinner, but there is no quid pro quo.  I want to court and to be wooed by your charming brand and fabulous product before I am going to wear your letterman jacket lend my name to give you endorsement.

That is why I am disgusted that some person who calls themselves a PR professional would ask me to basically go dumpster diving into their SEO (Search Engine Optimization) and ask if I can bring a few friends to the party.

Case in point: The actual subject line of this email is Come Party With (Redacted)!


Dear First Name : (<----I didn't change this.  It actually said Dear First Name)

We are SO psyched about our brand-spanking-new REDACTED program – a great opportunity for moms to check out fun products at home with friends – complete with giveaways, coupons, party ideas and more, all included! We’re launching NOW and would love to invite you and your readers to participate.

 

Can we interest you in signing up for yourself, and/or mentioning the launch of REDACTED on your blog/Facebook/Twitter – wherever you feel it would fit best? Here's the link (I took the link out) for more information and an application form.

 

Sound good? Let’s party!

 

 

Julie REDACTED

FROM REDACTED

Wow.  Talk about social media marketing gone wrong.  This is reminiscent of college days when the local townies would try to entice some of us to their parties with the promise of Joey's cousin is going to bring a keg.  Can you bring some friends too?  

You haven't done any research, not even enough to know my name. I don't know you. Yet, you want me to use my name, and any respect that it has garnered once again I will ask my readers to stop laughing to pimp your launch out to my readership that I have worked incredibly hard for 2+ years to build and gain a reputation of trust with. Huh.

I have no problem working with brands. I have no problem getting paid for links hint, hint. I have no problem reviewing the occasional product if it makes sense and is a good fit for Weaselville, but in all such cases you better know me. You better know that words that carry my name will always be my own. You better know that I will never sell out my readership with fluff about something that I don't believe in. I won't even sell ad space to a company that I wouldn't use myself.

You had better know that I will always be treated like a lady.

I do have a problem when you pitch me blindly. I do have a problem when you don't even try to get to know me a little better. Have you ever even heard of google or bothered to read the blog that you just pitched? I do have a problem when you pitch me and want something enormous for nothing. I should go check out your website and find out what on earth you are talking about? I should pitch my readership on your behalf? I should take the time to think about and coherently write a post about your company and it's launch? That's a lot of time people. This garbage doesn't write itself. For my effort, endorsement, research time and reputation lending, I get what in return? Come on buy a girl a drink first !

Lots has been said recently about this very problem. There are a few brands/companies that manage to do it right and there are many, many more that are still far behind the bell curve. I just wish that they would stop pitching me until they actually read this post and figure out that that's not her style.

Thank God For Women

I hate making school lunches.  After 11 straight years of this chore, I'm really ready to be done with it.  Unfortunately for me, there is no young and upcoming padawan around here to pass the torch onto.  I may be sentenced to 12 more straight years of this Sysiphus type enslavery.

I've been trying to pass the torch, but to put anyone around here in charge of this chore would make as much sense as putting Homer Simpson in charge of a nuclear reactor.

I know because yesterday I tried it out.  Boy Weasel and Mr. Weasel were tasked with making school lunches.  I gave a few simple, yet helpful, directions to save them some time, "Use the kiwi and the other fruit.  Monkey won't eat a sandwich and Smallest Weasel hates mac and cheese in her thermos because it dries out".

With this, I went to go get dressed and ready myself for the day ahead.

When I reemerged into the kitchen, I noticed that they did indeed use the fruit as instructed, but I had to ask, "Why didn't you put the fruit into sandwich bags?".  The answer came in the form of 4 blank, blinking and confused eyes staring back at me. *Note, I have been placing fruit in sandwich bags for school lunches for 11 solid years.

Mr. Weasel: (genuinely curious)  Why would I put fruit in a sandwich bag?

Boy Weasel: blink, blink

Me:  This way when they toss around their lunches and beat that piece of fruit into a pulp it won't ooze all over the rest of their lunch.  Plus they then have a place to put the kiwi spoon when they are done eating so that it doesn't make their entire lunchbox sticky.

Mr. Weasel: Huh.  I would have never thought of that.

Boy Weasel: blink, blink

Mr. Weasel: (talking to boy) .......and that son is why you should drop to your knees every night and thank God for women.  We'd never survive on our own without them.

Boy Weasel: (in a trance like state of astonishment) Yeah.

I guess I better go start making those lunches for today.