Its been ages since I last blogged. Time flew and suddenly its the end of the year! What?!!! I have to say that Hurricane Sandy not only stole November from me, it aged me by about 8 years (don't ask how I came up with that number just take it as read). I am more stooped, much grayer and all traces of collagen in my face blew away in the high winds.
The other day I woke up and looked in the mirror and Morley Safer was looking back at me. The deep tram lines between my eyebrows and parentheses around my mouth made me look like a bitter old hag (no comments please) so I decided to do some scientific-ish research into improving skin tone through diet and supplements.
Now, I am the queen of knee-jerk reactions. My husband has to edit/destroy every Monday morning email I write to my kids' coaches about the amount of play time they got during the weekend's games. Even my nice emails come across as snooty because email has no tone and I am English. Anyway, when I came across an article about a supplement that boosts your pituitary gland (thereby improving collagen production, muscle tone, hair lustre, sleep quality, etc.) I jumped on it. Snake Oil! Fantastic!
Long story short, I'm not seeing any improvement. I saw Denise Richards on TV yesterday and now I'm dying to know HER secret. That chick is radiant! On balance though, of all the things Sandy took from people, my youthful glow is a small price to pay; what we at Weaselsnot like to call a "princess problem". Plus I've asked Santa for a new face for Christmas. Hope I made the "nice" list.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
Why-yi-yi Oh Why?
The Frankenstorm is coming! The governor of Connecticut was on TV this morning calling the storm "the worst disaster of our lifetime that we have been able to prepare ourselves for." (He's got a way with words) Winds will reach sustained speeds of up to 80 miles per hour, storm surges will flood coastal areas and people may lose power for days. Already thousands of people have been forced to evacuate their homes.
The only non-threatening aspect of this storm? It's name. Sandy. Really? It's like the big, jowly bulldog that answers to Fifi. Here's what comes to my mind when I hear Sandy.
Because I am TV-minded, the name Sandy also makes me think of the warm-hearted patriarch of the Cohen family, played by Peter Gallagher. Sandy Cohen brought the Hannukah to Seth's Chrismukkah, which I loved him for.
And, of course, last-- but not least-- the name Sandy calls to mind pop culture's most famous Sandy:
And this scene (more specifically the song "Sandy" that Travolta sings later on in this scene) is the one that is plaguing me. I can't help but try to make new lyrics.
Stranded in my drive-way,
Shut-in--not cool. And the district
has cancelled all school....
Sandy, can't you see, I'm in misery.
You're gonna hit, they've closed Target
There's nothing left for me
Trees have flown, all alone
I sit and wonder why-iy-iy oh why
They named you-- ugh--Sandy.
Let's hope Sandy turns out to be all hype and as wimpy as its name suggests.
The only non-threatening aspect of this storm? It's name. Sandy. Really? It's like the big, jowly bulldog that answers to Fifi. Here's what comes to my mind when I hear Sandy.
Little Orphan Annie's lovable rescue pup. Only a threat if your last name is Hannigan.
And, of course, last-- but not least-- the name Sandy calls to mind pop culture's most famous Sandy:
Stranded in my drive-way,
Shut-in--not cool. And the district
has cancelled all school....
Sandy, can't you see, I'm in misery.
You're gonna hit, they've closed Target
There's nothing left for me
Trees have flown, all alone
I sit and wonder why-iy-iy oh why
They named you-- ugh--Sandy.
Let's hope Sandy turns out to be all hype and as wimpy as its name suggests.
Monday, October 15, 2012
I Have a Good Excuse
Weaselsnob has been doing all the heavy lifting around here lately. I haven't blogged in a while. This is because:
a) We just packed up our whole house and moved;
b) I spend my days either unpacking boxes or waiting on (bad musical) hold finding out why Verizon and/or Cablevision has blown off their service window YET AGAIN; or
c)
a) We just packed up our whole house and moved;
b) I spend my days either unpacking boxes or waiting on (bad musical) hold finding out why Verizon and/or Cablevision has blown off their service window YET AGAIN; or
c)
Clearly I do not have my priorities straight.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
La Vie en Bleu
For some time my 11-year-old daughter has wanted to chop all her hair off a la Emma Watson. I have stalled her for as long as possible knowing that while short hair on a girl wouldn't cause a flutter in England, American girls prize long hair. That's just the reality. Plus, she dresses exclusively in sportswear and already gets mistaken for a boy. On the heels of the London Olympics, however, she begged me to let her "Abby Wambach" her hair and against my better judgement (and own cringe worthy experience) I let her.
Every woman I know with curly hair has at some point cut it boy-short. And regretted it. I totally had a John Taylor haircut in the '80s until a dear old lady approached me on the sidewalk one day and said, "You look like a nice, strong young man. Could you help me with these boxes?" Yeah. Haven't had short hair since.
Weaselsnark recalled a time when someone told her she was in the wrong bathroom. "No, I'm a girl", she squeaked in mortification.
Needless to say I was nervous about the haircut but - shocking newsflash - my daughter is not in fact, me! Her hair looks so pretty short and she is absolutely FINE with people thinking she's a boy. When I suggested on the first-day-at-school-with-boy-hair that she dress slightly more femininely she pooh-poohed me and came downstairs wearing soccer shorts, a basketball shirt and Sambas. "I'm going to pretend I'm the new boy," she laughed.
Now she comes home every day with a tally of how many people mistook her for a boy and she sincerely finds it funny. She even had her own weaselsnark experience in the bathroom! Her best friend who also battles the boy-identity issue even with very long hair advised her that when people ask if you're a girl or a boy just answer, "Yes". God bless. That's confidence for you.
Every woman I know with curly hair has at some point cut it boy-short. And regretted it. I totally had a John Taylor haircut in the '80s until a dear old lady approached me on the sidewalk one day and said, "You look like a nice, strong young man. Could you help me with these boxes?" Yeah. Haven't had short hair since.
Weaselsnark recalled a time when someone told her she was in the wrong bathroom. "No, I'm a girl", she squeaked in mortification.
Needless to say I was nervous about the haircut but - shocking newsflash - my daughter is not in fact, me! Her hair looks so pretty short and she is absolutely FINE with people thinking she's a boy. When I suggested on the first-day-at-school-with-boy-hair that she dress slightly more femininely she pooh-poohed me and came downstairs wearing soccer shorts, a basketball shirt and Sambas. "I'm going to pretend I'm the new boy," she laughed.
Now she comes home every day with a tally of how many people mistook her for a boy and she sincerely finds it funny. She even had her own weaselsnark experience in the bathroom! Her best friend who also battles the boy-identity issue even with very long hair advised her that when people ask if you're a girl or a boy just answer, "Yes". God bless. That's confidence for you.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Jiminy!
Is anyone else experiencing a plague of crickets or grasshoppers at the moment??! How do they get in the house? In the last week I have had one jump out of the washing machine at me, one on the ceiling by my bed (ew) and one on the back of my headrest in the car. In the last incident I out- screamed Minx's 7-year-old friend as I peeled up our road like an old lady, crouched over the steering wheel (PLEASE do not jump into my hair!!!!). In moments like that, you come so perilously close to the abyss that madness becomes almost a welcome state of disconnect.
It's not that crickets aren't cute in an intelligent-looking, elegant kind of way. It's just the possibility of having one randomly fly at great speed in your direction with its long legs and antennae twitching. And I just can't subscribe to the Disney-fication of wild animals. It's too hard to suspend belief when Bambi is eating all your carefully tended Hostas, Simba has dismembered his trainer or Jiminy is hiding in your smalls.
It's not that crickets aren't cute in an intelligent-looking, elegant kind of way. It's just the possibility of having one randomly fly at great speed in your direction with its long legs and antennae twitching. And I just can't subscribe to the Disney-fication of wild animals. It's too hard to suspend belief when Bambi is eating all your carefully tended Hostas, Simba has dismembered his trainer or Jiminy is hiding in your smalls.
Monday, September 10, 2012
No Ifs, Ands, or Butts
In the process of packing up our house I came across my son's joke book-- a notebook in which I compiled jokes that my son made up. I started keeping the joke book when he was about four and stopped updating it when he was about.... four.
Okay, so it is more of a joke pamphlet than a joke book. Nevertheless, at a young age he was churning out some pretty decent material.
Example:
Q: What did one poop say to the other?
A: You look flushed.
Not bad wordplay (if you can get past the poop part). Unfortunately, for the past few years, there has been no getting past the poop part. Or the parts that poop. My kids (and their friends) think that true humor lies in the mere utterance of certain words. I have tried-- and failed-- numerous times to explain to my son how much funnier he is when he turns a phrase or draws a parallel.
Toilet humor, I tell him, is beyond lame.
Which is why it is all the more shameful that I am still laughing when I think of the anatomy lesson my seven year old daughter's friend gave me.
"Do you know what this is called?" she asked, pulling on the extra skin on the back of her elbow.
I shrugged.
"The wenis" she informed me, matter-of-factly. "And do you know what this is called?" she asked, pointing to the inside fold of her elbow.
I shook my head.
"THE WAGINA!" she guffawed, ever so pleased that I had walked right into it.
Okay, so it is more of a joke pamphlet than a joke book. Nevertheless, at a young age he was churning out some pretty decent material.
Example:
Q: What did one poop say to the other?
A: You look flushed.
Not bad wordplay (if you can get past the poop part). Unfortunately, for the past few years, there has been no getting past the poop part. Or the parts that poop. My kids (and their friends) think that true humor lies in the mere utterance of certain words. I have tried-- and failed-- numerous times to explain to my son how much funnier he is when he turns a phrase or draws a parallel.
Toilet humor, I tell him, is beyond lame.
Which is why it is all the more shameful that I am still laughing when I think of the anatomy lesson my seven year old daughter's friend gave me.
"Do you know what this is called?" she asked, pulling on the extra skin on the back of her elbow.
I shrugged.
"The wenis" she informed me, matter-of-factly. "And do you know what this is called?" she asked, pointing to the inside fold of her elbow.
I shook my head.
"THE WAGINA!" she guffawed, ever so pleased that I had walked right into it.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Dog Days of Summer
Over the summer my kids (and I'm including my husband in this bracket) stepped up their campaign to convince me that we must get a dog. I had fobbed them off for years arguing that I couldn't possibly clean up the shit of two living things concurrently so until they were all out of diapers ...
Obviously (hopefully), we have been diaper-free for 4 years now but something rekindled their interest this summer - maybe visiting friends with cute dogs? - and I am once again in the hot seat. The thing is, I like dogs. I just don't want any more responsibility or guilt since I am looking to going back to work at least part-time. More importantly, I also REALLY don't want to have to scoop poop.
Minx has been the most vocal canine advocate and recently when my parents were visiting she kicked up again. My mother, who honed her own arguments a generation ago, explained that I work very hard and don't need anything else to clean up after.
"My mom doesn't work!", spat Minx with a scowl.
Granny patiently explained that I did in fact work and that if Minx wasn't careful, she would arrange for Minx and I to have a Freaky Friday so that she could walk in my shoes and develop a healthy respect for me.
"Yuck!", quipped my elder daughter, "I definitely wouldn't want Minx for a mother!"
Minx turned to her and with laser precision said, "I'd buy you a dog."
Touche
Obviously (hopefully), we have been diaper-free for 4 years now but something rekindled their interest this summer - maybe visiting friends with cute dogs? - and I am once again in the hot seat. The thing is, I like dogs. I just don't want any more responsibility or guilt since I am looking to going back to work at least part-time. More importantly, I also REALLY don't want to have to scoop poop.
Minx has been the most vocal canine advocate and recently when my parents were visiting she kicked up again. My mother, who honed her own arguments a generation ago, explained that I work very hard and don't need anything else to clean up after.
"My mom doesn't work!", spat Minx with a scowl.
Granny patiently explained that I did in fact work and that if Minx wasn't careful, she would arrange for Minx and I to have a Freaky Friday so that she could walk in my shoes and develop a healthy respect for me.
"Yuck!", quipped my elder daughter, "I definitely wouldn't want Minx for a mother!"
Minx turned to her and with laser precision said, "I'd buy you a dog."
Touche
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
iStupid
I just got an iPhone! It's not that I particularly wanted a new phone but my Blackberry was quite literally deteriorating and leaving black spongey bits on my hands and in my bag. Of course, like having anything brand new I couldn't stand the thought of scratching or smudging it so I left the plastic protective cover on.
I was determined to program the thing myself and as long as you keep a clear head this is not a difficult task. Apple practically spoonfeeds you. I set my ringtone (a questionably-geeky SciFi noise), my email and text preferences and my screen saver and shockingly, I managed to download my contacts from one phone to another which my husband hadn't even attempted when he upgraded. Who's a Luddite now??!!!
It was (sad to say) a couple of days before anyone called me on my new phone and when I picked up, I could barely hear anything. Everyone in the car - husband, three kids - immediately lunged for my phone, screaming instructions on how to improve sound quality. Did I turn up the volume? Yes. Was it on mute? No. Did you turn on manual volume control? YES! Thank you, all, but I am not a COMPLETE idiot! I did check the basics!!!!!
Oh, famous last words.
"Did you take the plastic cover off the screen (where the speaker is)?
Phooey.
I was determined to program the thing myself and as long as you keep a clear head this is not a difficult task. Apple practically spoonfeeds you. I set my ringtone (a questionably-geeky SciFi noise), my email and text preferences and my screen saver and shockingly, I managed to download my contacts from one phone to another which my husband hadn't even attempted when he upgraded. Who's a Luddite now??!!!
It was (sad to say) a couple of days before anyone called me on my new phone and when I picked up, I could barely hear anything. Everyone in the car - husband, three kids - immediately lunged for my phone, screaming instructions on how to improve sound quality. Did I turn up the volume? Yes. Was it on mute? No. Did you turn on manual volume control? YES! Thank you, all, but I am not a COMPLETE idiot! I did check the basics!!!!!
Oh, famous last words.
"Did you take the plastic cover off the screen (where the speaker is)?
Phooey.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Life on the Streets is Hard
More and more, recently, I find myself wishing to be deputized. Oh, for a police siren mounted to the top of my car that I can illuminate at will when someone-for-whom-the-rules-don't apply pisses me off. And a nice, shiny gold badge (or a cool flip-out) would go down quite nicely too.
I've been hearing stories all summer about the parents who send their kids to sleepaway camp with two cell phones because they are not supposed to have phones at all and one might get confiscated. I know I've already described the mother who only put down one instrument on the choice form because she wanted her kid to get the violin. Why don't the rules apply to them??!
There is a sour-faced woman who parks every morning in the fire lane outside the coffee shop and runs in for her morning cuppa. I know this because my kids catch the bus for camp just outside said cafe and many mornings this woman is told to move her car to let the bus pull up. But she persists in parking there every morning, leaving her engine running, and ignoring actual parking spots not 20 feet away.
Well, this morning I decided to get a coffee after the camp bus left. I was third in line, when this lady parked out front, strode in looking harried and asked the woman at the front of the line if she could cut in because she was in a rush. She didn't ask the rest of us and if she had, I would have told her to either make her @###%^$% coffee at home OR, if she was in SUCH a hurry, go without.
To add insult to injury, after she got her coffee she stopped to chat for 10 minutes with the woman who let her cut! Car idling (and polluting).
What exactly are the paramenters for making a citizen's arrest I wonder ...
I've been hearing stories all summer about the parents who send their kids to sleepaway camp with two cell phones because they are not supposed to have phones at all and one might get confiscated. I know I've already described the mother who only put down one instrument on the choice form because she wanted her kid to get the violin. Why don't the rules apply to them??!
There is a sour-faced woman who parks every morning in the fire lane outside the coffee shop and runs in for her morning cuppa. I know this because my kids catch the bus for camp just outside said cafe and many mornings this woman is told to move her car to let the bus pull up. But she persists in parking there every morning, leaving her engine running, and ignoring actual parking spots not 20 feet away.
Well, this morning I decided to get a coffee after the camp bus left. I was third in line, when this lady parked out front, strode in looking harried and asked the woman at the front of the line if she could cut in because she was in a rush. She didn't ask the rest of us and if she had, I would have told her to either make her @###%^$% coffee at home OR, if she was in SUCH a hurry, go without.
To add insult to injury, after she got her coffee she stopped to chat for 10 minutes with the woman who let her cut! Car idling (and polluting).
What exactly are the paramenters for making a citizen's arrest I wonder ...
Monday, July 23, 2012
You Cannot Bee Serious!
The kids were at camp all day last week so, having let a few things slide, I made myself a to-do list and began working through it methodically. Some of the things on it were fairly urgent as you can tell by the fact that it took me until Thursday to get around to calling JP McHale about our bee problem.
We hadn't seen many bees since that horrible day in June but once in a while we'd find two or three clinging to the curtains in my daughter's room. So two guys came out, took one look at the nest, took one look at each other and said, "We can't help you." Apparently, we have honey bees nesting in our wall/roof and honey bees are officially endangered.
So I now have a bee-keeper coming out tomorrow. On the phone he estimated the removal to cost several thousand dollars (he, himself only charges $200/hour and is "usually done in a day") which will include finding the hive, usually 15-20 feet into the wall between two studs, opening up either the roof or the wall, removing the hive and taking the bees to their new home and re-insulating and closing up the roof or wall.
My husband, never one to spend a dime saving when he could kill, suggested getting someone in to just blast the little critters. Mr. Bee-keeper replied that while not exactly illegal, this would not be the advised plan of action because we would then have 30-60,000 bee carcasses and a hive and about 5 gallons of honey rotting/pouring down the inside of our walls which would no doubt attract other, more aggressive varmits.
Guess I'll have to wait a while longer to tick this off my list. Next up: calling JFK's Lost and Found to see if they found the iTouch my son left on the plane. Yeah. Good luck with THAT.
We hadn't seen many bees since that horrible day in June but once in a while we'd find two or three clinging to the curtains in my daughter's room. So two guys came out, took one look at the nest, took one look at each other and said, "We can't help you." Apparently, we have honey bees nesting in our wall/roof and honey bees are officially endangered.
So I now have a bee-keeper coming out tomorrow. On the phone he estimated the removal to cost several thousand dollars (he, himself only charges $200/hour and is "usually done in a day") which will include finding the hive, usually 15-20 feet into the wall between two studs, opening up either the roof or the wall, removing the hive and taking the bees to their new home and re-insulating and closing up the roof or wall.
My husband, never one to spend a dime saving when he could kill, suggested getting someone in to just blast the little critters. Mr. Bee-keeper replied that while not exactly illegal, this would not be the advised plan of action because we would then have 30-60,000 bee carcasses and a hive and about 5 gallons of honey rotting/pouring down the inside of our walls which would no doubt attract other, more aggressive varmits.
Guess I'll have to wait a while longer to tick this off my list. Next up: calling JFK's Lost and Found to see if they found the iTouch my son left on the plane. Yeah. Good luck with THAT.
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