Apr 28

Dear Boston, 

Can I just say that I’m loving the ridiculously warm weather and the beautiful sunshine? I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately but the early blooming of flowers and leaves on trees and days of unseasonably warm weather has seriously improved my feelings towards you.

Yours,
A Sun-Worshipper

 

Dear Neutrogena,

I want  to believe that SPF 100 is going to keep me from getting sunburned. I really do. Don’t let me down.

Yours,
A Skeptical Consumer


Dear Johnson & Johnson,

Just in case these rough economic times were causing you any anxiety about the future of your  company, please be assured that your Bandaid line will pretty much have a direct source of income from my bank account. The first warm weekend of the season included enough bandaid use by my kids to require a trip to pick up several new boxes. Perhaps we could set up some sort of bulk discount?

Yours,
A Bandaid Application Specialist (Mommy)


Dear Tourists,

If you could just restrain your curiosity and refrain from peeking into our backyard every time you walk out on our retaining wall to get out on the rocks that stretch into the ocean that would be great, k? I don’t go climbing over your fence to stare into your backyard, and I don’t bring a dozen friends with me in a constant parade of voyeurs to check out your home or your kids. Keep your nose out of mine.

Also? If you’re going to walk out on the rocks, take a look at the what the water is doing. That whole tide thing? Isn’t an urban legend.

Exhibit #1: Low Tide

Exhibit #2: Half-way-in Tide (With Stranded Tourists)

You look like morons when you get stranded out there and we have to call the fire department to come and rescue you. If not for them, exhibit #3 would have been you drowning because you weren’t even smart enough to walk to the one or two dry points that clearly do not get covered at high tide instead of standing and waiting to be swept out to sea.

Yours,
A  Disgruntled Oceanside-Dweller


Dear Weekend,

Why do you have to be so damn short?

Yours,
A Lonely Wife of a Working Husband


Dear Offspring,

I can’t tell you much I appreciate you spending every waking moment running around outside since the weather warmed up. Really, I’ve been waiting for this moment so long! This moment being the time when I could send you outside without having to be there to supervise every. single. moment. and just let you loose to play your imaginary games and get dirty and entertain each other for hours…. 

Also, I am totally loving how tired out you are after a full day of running around outside. So tired that you can’t even make it all the way up the ladder to the top bunk before crashing….

(Yes, she was really asleep). Now if we could just keep you from falling down and tearing off chunks of skin every five minutes we’d be all set for a perfect summer.

Thankfully,
Your Loving Mother 

Apr 24

I’m not the first on the internets to do this meme and I won’t be the last. Let’s call it some mindless Friday fun…

 

What are your middle names?

Tracy and Edward. Nothing dramatic. 

How long have you been together?

We started dating early in 1999. Engaged by New Year’s Eve 1999 and married August 2000.  So I guess that makes just over ten years together. Wow.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?

We met in September of 1998. So I guess I’d say about 6 months, maybe less. The official start of our romantic relationship is a bit blurry. 

Who asked whom out?

See above. The transition from friendship to romance was kind of hard to pinpoint. It was more like we realized we actually were dating (with a small push from a friend) and we just continued on from there.

How old are each of you?

I’m 28 and he’s 30. And I am kind of a pain in the ass about reminding him of that fact. Heh.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Typically mine as we’ve lived closer to them. But in the past two years pretty much neither as we have been far from all of our collective siblings.

Which situation is hardest on you as a couple?

I’m going to go out on a limb and say we argue about the same things that most couples argue about. But as to what is hardest, I guess it depends on which of us you are talking to.  Since we are talking to me right now, I’m going to say his long hours and the demands of his job which I frequently think are unrealistic. As far as I’m concerned, unless people are dying as a direct result of the hubby not working (and in his tech-based business I’m going to go with NO), there is no excuse for him having to work in the middle of the night or all weekend all. the. time. 

Did you go to the same school?

Not in high school but I’m pretty sure we would have been friends if we had. We were both geeks. 

Are you from the same home towns?

Nope.

Who is smarter?

Definitely him. But if you’re looking for a name or phone number I’m usually your girl. 

Who is the most sensitive?

Depends on who you ask. I would say that I am. He would say I DEFINITELY AM.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?

We haven’t been in the same place with enough freedom to go out together in the past few years to be able to establish a favourite place.  Our prerequisites are: alcohol, food and alcohol.

Where is the furthest the two of you have traveled as a couple?

Quebec City and Boston are about the same distance. If you’d asked me when we got married if we would have left the continent by the time we were married nine years I would have said definitely. Reality, it turns out, is far less glamorous than fantasy.

Who has the craziest exes?

Neither of us have any real exes. I know, we’re so adorable it makes your teeth hurt, right?

Who has the worst temper?

I don’t want to talk about it.

Who does the cooking?

For the greater good, I do.

Who is the neat freak?

Both of us, in different ways. I am picky about uncluttered surfaces, counters and such. He is the organizational one who spends hours making closets and storage rooms neatly catalogued. With this combination of anal retentiveness you would think our house would look like it came out of a magazine. Alas, this is not the case. Unfortunately neither of us has the quirk of being anal about cleaning toilets or sweeping floors or folding laundry. Perhaps one of our children will be get that particular idiosyncrasy. 

Who is more stubborn?

I doubt there are two people more equally matched than the two of us.

Who hogs the bed?

He would tell you I do, but since he falls asleep seconds after his head hits the pillow you really can’t believe anything he says regarding blanket tug-of-war. The truth is both of us hog the bed. And we bought a king-sized blanket for our queen-size bed so that we could avoid fighting over the covers. All I have to say about that is…is there anything bigger than king-size?

Who wakes up earlier?

Usually he does.

Where was your first date?

After we decided we were “officially” a couple, our first real date was going out for vegetarian pizza (which I pretended to think was the greatest thing EVER because he did – now I’m slightly less enthusiastic about it) and a movie which I think may have been Shakespeare In Love but I’m not totally sure.

Who is more jealous?

I’m not really sure what kind of jealousy we’re referring to here, but I’d say probably me.

How long did it take to get serious?

Aside from the months of “just friends” dating we were serious right from the beginning. Neither of us take friendships or romantic relationships casually.

Who eats more?

Let’s not talk about that.

Who does the laundry?

It’s a combined effort. I sort, wash, dry and eventually fold the clothes. He complains about the basket of clean but wrinkled laundry that has yet to be folded.

Who’s better with the computer?

The hubby is some kind of techno-savant. I call him the computer whisperer.

Who drives when you are together?

He usually drives from behind the wheel. I drive from the back seat (actually, usually the passenger seat).

Apr 20

There are certain things most people accept to be true of good parents. 

Good parents do not beat their children. Good parents do not spoil their children. Good parents provide structure, discipline, and a supportive, caring environment. Good parents do not feed their children cookies for breakfast (at least not regularly). Good parents express love and affection for their children.

Good parents do not get so carried away by the thought of going out without children that they put on a movie for their kids and the babysitter and walk out without letting the sitter know they are leaving or where they are going or saying good night to their offspring – even if the sitter is a beloved and trusted family friend with whom the children are completely comfortable.

Not that it happened to me. Just sayin’, that might be an example of some poor judgement by the parents in question.

Apr 16

It is infinitely more difficult to trim the finger/toenails of a squirmy two year old than it is to clip an infant’s. And that’s saying something!

Same goes for hair cuts with the clippers. Note to self: NEVER attempt to do that again without the hubby’s assistance. Or a size 2T straightjacket.

Apr 13

You know how some parents self-righteously insist that it is not sugar per se that makes kids hyper, but rather the exciting and sometimes overwhelming situations in which sugar-rich foods are frequently found (ie. birthday parties, Halloween, Easter) that result in children fraught with an abundance of energy.

Most people probably wish that those parents would end up with kids that consume their weight in sugar on a day such as Easter and proceed to run and run and run as though chased by hordes of demons with an extra large helping of screaming and teach those smug parents a lesson. 

Not that I am a superior-sounding parent with sugar-crazed children. But imagine the look on that sanctimonious parent’s face. Just imagine…

Going through their heads: “OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!! CANDEEEEEE!!!!”

Apr 12

Alternately titled “Have you emerged from the diabetic coma that ensued after Sunday’s avalanche of sugar-laden goodies?”.

Happy Easter Sunday/Monday everyone!

Apr 11

Here I am, catching up once again. We have been so lucky to have many friends visit us here in Boston this year and when they show up I pretty much forget about everything to do with my normal life in favour of basking in easy relationships, eating crap, and a general sense of well-being.  It does wonders for my attitude. And reminds me that I’m so not 18 anymore and staying up late night after night after night leaves me feeling like I was hit by a truck. Several times. 

In other news we’re hurtling downhill towards the sugar coma that commences tomorrow. Today I’m making Easter bread which is about 20% whipping cream, 20% eggs, 50% sugar and 10% flour. Then we cover it with icing and jelly beans. God Bless my German heritage and the string of artery clogging recipes that have been handed down from generation to generation of delightfully plump women (except my mom who is somehow exempt from her genetic heritage). 

The rest of the day will be egg decorating and eating a fridge full of leftovers from a week of eating out. My body just might recover from this week and the upcoming Easter chocolate binge just about in time for Christmas. Excellent.

Apr 4

After making two big moves in the last two years we decided it would be best if we could lighten our load a little before our next move, whenever that might be. And thus began a project which I have cursed more than once in the past six weeks.

It seemed like a manageable sized project. I decided to try and sell our old baby clothes. We had a dozen large bins of outgrown clothes that we’ve been toting around and that equals a lot of weight and bulk that has to go on a moving truck.  I figured I’d organize the clothes, give them a quick wash to freshen them up and post a listing on craigslist.

Welcome to Operation Timesuck.

Step 1: Locate and unpack boxes of outgrown clothes. Assume they are basically organized by size as you labelled the containers meticulously when packing them up.

Step 2: Realize your error as size categories are totally inconsistent. Question the difference between size 6 months, size 6-9 months and size 6-12 months and why two shirts in the same size are dramatically different in size. Curse the lack of a universal sizing system to force clothing manufacturers to assure consumers some tiny bit of uniformity from brand to brand. Spend hours days sorting and resorting until you have 10 clear size categories divided into 2 lots each of summer and winter clothing.

Step 3: Get a little weepy and nostalgic over tiny outfits and the memories associated with them…

 

…and ruthlessly throw everything into the bins but a very few select items to keep.

Step 4: Decide the clothes are more likely to sell on craigslist if you have pictures of them. Start photographing. 

Step 5: Realize the clothes really need to be ironed in order to appear decent in the pictures. Pull out the iron and dig in.

Step 6: Realize your iron is not working properly about ten minutes in.

Step 7: Eventually get around to replacing iron.

Step 8: Realize that spending money on a new iron is exactly as glamorous as it sounds. 

Step 9: Spend hours days weeks months ironing. Realize half way through that this project is a hell of a lot more work than you anticipated.

Step 10: Alternate between ignoring and bitching about the bins of clothes cluttering up your kitchen.

Step 11: FINALLY finish the process of organizing, sorting, washing, ironing and photographing. Proceed to post ad on craigslist. Wait anxiously for responses.

Step 12: Wait some more.

Step 13: Astonished by the deafening virtual silence, spend some time re-examining your strategy and prices. 

Step 14: Alternate between ignoring and bitching about the fact that there are 20 bags of clothes in your kitchen on which you have wasted hours and hours of time and energy and have not made a single penny. In fact, you have lost money because of the new iron.

Step 15: Have your husband move said bags back down to the garage where they came from. 

Step 16: Drown your sorrows in pre-Easter candy and enjoy your clean kitchen. Vow to rework this project again. At some point. In the future. Because you need a break. Again.