Photo Update

October 30, 2004

The Gallery is pretty much up and running, thanks to my good friend Steve, the Internet God. Incidentally, it’s his birthday, so a big Thank You and Happy Birthday to Steve!

So far the Gallery has some Germany images, some from last April in Annapolis with Caroline and “Mommy I love this place” Aidan, plus a ton of Daschel pictures. There’s even a folder of Dash pictures from around 6 months, which I figured Greg would like.

In the future, any photos I share here will roll back to the Gallery in the event that someone might want to see it again without going through the archives. It’s also easier than emailing photos to people all the time. So I’m very happy with Gallery and highly recommend it to anyone looking for a free but non-Fotki or Photobucket way to share their images. It has tons of features and is an organizer’s dream, with many options for sorting and sharing your photos.

Ok I’ll stop my sales pitch there. Enjoy the Gallery and check back because I plan on filling it up with almost everything on my hard drive, including movies!

Have a great Halloween!

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I Have an Idea

October 29, 2004

When trying to intimate to me that you have blindly categorized me with a large group of other half-people, try not to refer to me as ‘you people’.

If you can pull that off, I just might keep listening to the rest of your bullshit.

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A Mommy & a Bunny

October 28, 2004

Since Dash was 11 months old, he’s been saying “Daddy” with some regularity. All my efforts to force the word “mommy” into his vocabulary have failed, and as the days and months pass, I become more and more disturbed and anxious; wondering what piece of shit word is going to wiggle itself into the regular rotation before me.

Ice cream. Santa. Puppy. Moo cow. Hungry. Juice. Blue’s Clues. [Dora, Elmo, and several other registered Trademark items] Milk. Crackers. The child said ‘vitamin’ before he said mommy, for Christ’s sake.

Imagine my joy this morning as he bolted out of his room. He had a friend over, and when I saw Dash come running out of the room, I was guessing that either Riley had taken some of Dash’s raisins, or that Pink Bunny was in grave danger.

Pink Bunny is Dash’s security blanket, only in pink stuffed rabbit form. Given to him as an Easter basket gift from a distant relative when he was still an infant, it’s obviously the most important thing he owns. If you don’t kiss bunny when he goes to sleep, you are in trouble. If bunny doesn’t get a sip of your drink, you’re in trouble. If bunny doesn’t have her own spot on pillow, you’re in trouble. Please don’t ask me what happens when bunny has to go for a “vacation” in the washing machine.

One look at Dash’s tear-stained face provided me with the answer. It was definitely bunny. I went into his bedroom and saw Riley, confused as hell, standing in the middle of the room with bunny in his left hand. He had bunny by the neck, and her limp head was dangling loose, appearing to be choked so hard that little stuffing was left in that area. Riley clearly had no idea what was going on. I asked him if he wanted to see Elmo, and grabbed the stuffed Elmo off the bed. Elmo, bright red and practically untouched, was an instant distraction, and bunny fell to the floor with that sad Velveteen Rabbit sort of thump - I knew what Dash was thinking. She’s hurt.

Dash rushed over to bunny’s lifeless body on the floor, and scooped her up. He patted her on the head and hugged her so tight I thought I saw his arms losing circulation. He looked up at me and pushed bunny towards me, saying, “Kiss”. I kissed bunny on the head and told Dash that bunny was all better. We can all stop and catch our breath, tragedy was averted.

Dash sat down on the floor, cuddling the bunny, patting her repeatedly, and I started to walk out of the room. I had reached the door when I looked back just in time to hear him whisper into the stuffed pink ear, “Mommy, you’re ok. ”

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Halloween with Frankenstein

October 27, 2004

The Frankenstein Castle near Darmstadt, Germany is The Place to Be this Halloween, I’m told. Mike and I will be going, sans toddler, with a couple we are friends with from work.

Some friends have already been there once before, and swear up and down that I’m going to poop myself. Let it be known that I have not pooped myself since I was a baby, so they are not working from any solid numbers with their prediction. However, when they went last year, Tonya got captured by some ghouls and was lost in the castle by herself for over two hours.

This makes me seriously consider borrowing one of Dash’s diapers for the event.

Apparently, since Germans don’t typically celebrate Halloween, the city of Darmstadt makes some money each year by hosting a haunted house in the Frankenstein Castle. You can read about Konrad Dipple and the mysteries of the castle here, as I just did, realizing that this Dipple character was batshit insane and probably did try to make a monster come to life by stealing parts from a local graveyard.

Now. I’m going to this haunted house, in a castle, on a hill [notice how far I’ll be from the city in the first picture which includes the view], in the middle of the night, in Germany. Mike said, “Don’t worry, I won’t let them capture you.” Nathan laughed at him, replying, “Dude, you won’t be able to stop them, they cover her mouth and yank her into a hallway and a door shuts and locks behind them.”

Um, would I be the biggest chicken shit in the world if I don’t go? There is a haunted house in Galveston that rivals Frankenstein’s castle as far as sheer terror goes [I’m betting]: it requires $100 to enter, but you get a refund if you can “escape”. You have to get through without losing your way or turning back in the wrong direction. You move from a mansion, to its basement, out through a garden maze, and into the woods, eventually landing in a cemetary. Through all of this, your sense of direction is seriously challenged and you are probably being chased. I’ve done that one, and wasn’t too scared, simply because there’s nothing scary about hillbillies chasing you. Also, I knew where my car was and I knew that if I got really scared I could just yell out that I was not playing anymore [they give you a ’safe word’ upon entering]. At the Frankenstein castle, I’ll have to communicate in German, which I am only in the beginning stages of learning, and for some reason, this makes the difference to me.

Well that and the fact that some crazy dude died in there amongst his stockpile of grave robbings.

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How to Appear to be a Good Wife

October 26, 2004

Forget about the razor for a minute, I’ll get back to that. Right now I’m focusing on that part of the male psyche that believes pretty food is time-consuming. Women know better. Tonight, I put myself up to the challenge and took three random food items, hoping for the best.

Luckily, I’m a badass.

A can of vegetable soup, a bag of yellow rice, and a pork chop. That’s what you’re looking at. 25 minutes for the rice to cook, about ten minutes for the pork (seasoned with S&P and paprika), and 5 for the can of soup. Appearances are everything. My husband looked like he was going to shit a brick when he walked in the door.

There are few things better than getting undue praise.

Now, while he’s eating, run in the bathroom and do your very best I Have Five Minutes so I’m Dry-Shaving Over the Bathtub with the razor. Slather yourself in some lotion that both smells nice and contains vitamin E. Waltz out into the kitchen just in time to see him clear his plate, and let him get a good whiff of how great you smell.

Now you’ve perfected the 30 minute Make Your Husband Stutter and Drool experiment. Giving it up in the bedroom is optional.

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