Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Boston was fun. The red-eye out of Denver…not so much. In fact, do you know what is worse than not sleeping on an overnight flight? Sleeping on one. My neck developed such a crick in it; I couldn’t hold my head upright for our entire stay. On the plus side, I couldn’t help but notice the carpets in the Boston convention center are remarkably clean and stain-free. Nice job, Boston!

Also on the bright side, our business seminar was not nearly as challenging as I had feared it would be and I took some valuable insights away with me. Insights about the class material as well as insights about Boston proper. Things like, the fact that I actually like salt fries. Like, I really like salt fries. Salt water pickles on the other hand, no. Just, no.

One of our evening events was held at the Boston Science Museum and we got to watch a giant conductor create lightning inside the building. This, as exciting as it sounds wasn’t really. But, it did make for interesting conversation at the breakfast table the next morning.

Hugh: I didn’t really find the lightning show all that electrifying. Get it? Electrifying. Ha, ha.

Random Guy Sitting Next To Us: Well, of course you wouldn’t; look what you have to compare it against (pointing at me).

Chelle: Wow. I’m going home with him.

I didn’t, obviously. After all, he might not have indulged my wish to visit the bar from Cheers like my husband did. In a limousine, even. Plus, he bought me a tee-shirt. Living large, that's us.

Saturday afternoon, between our last class and the time we had to be back to the airport, Hugh and I walked to Boston Commons and took the walking Freedom Tour; we saw the home of Paul Revere, the USS Constitution, a slew of statues of our fore-fathers, some truly huge lobsters at the fish market near the piers and more cemeteries than you could shake a psychic at (I see dead people). It was a lot of fun and a good way to exhaust ourselves before getting on the flight back home.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my parents were doing a bang-up job of watching over our children, an especially challenging job given the fact that, while we were away, puberty hi-jacked The Girl.

Ugliness ensued.

Looks like we won’t need Paul Revere to tell us The Hormones are coming! The Hormones are coming!

Leaving’ On a Jet Plane

Hugh and I are taking the red eye out of Denver tonight. We are going here for a business class at which cursing at my own stupidity is certain to be a frequent occurrence. I’m so excited!

Speaking of excited, my parents are making the trip up to stay with our offspring while we are away and they are simply beside themselves with glee (the children, not my parents although...ok, them too); almost an entire week of spoiled indulgences; tuna casserole! Bacon in the mornings! Foods that require margarine as a major ingredient,

****TANGENT ALERT*** margarine is generally banned from my fridge. Do you have any idea what margarine will do to your insides? Do you? Chemically speaking, margarine is one molecule away from being plastic. Plastic, people! You might as well just melt down the container it comes in and slather that on your toast. I'm serious!****END OF TANGENT***

staying up past their bedtimes and, let us not forget the frequent episodes of back tickling and foot rubbing; Nana just cannot say no!

Yes, the kids are quite excited. And, I am jealous. Of the frequent episodes of foot rubbing, obviously.

I’m sure Hugh and I will find something fun to do in Boston. I mean, all work and no play and all that but, I’ll miss being here on Saturday for The Girl’s volleyball tournament and that is a bummer for sure. I have no doubt she will do great and have a good time doing it but, still. I be sad.

Hey, I know; maybe some retail therapy in Boston will soothe my guilty conscious!

I’m willing to try, you know, for the children.

Thus Endeth Spring Break

Jana requested the company of my children this weekend; picking them up on Friday morning and whisking them away for a day of bowling and chocolate-shake drinking at a nearby soda fountain. She returned them to us on Saturday night following an exciting day which included digging for worms, holding baby chicks, wading in the creek and eating homemade apple pie until they thought that they might burst.

And she thanks me for letting her take them.

While the kids were away, Hugh and I did all the usual things that a fairly young couple-in-love does when they find themselves childfree for a period of time bomp chicka bomp, bomp; I cleaned the house and organized things for my parent’s visit later this week while Hugh finished our taxes (Finally! Thankyoulordjeebus!) which, ok, bomp chicka bomp bomp, not so much.

Aside from the never ending chore of cleaning my hovel, I also stole away to neighboring city for some shopping. Shopping that didn’t include a surly pre-teen cringing at each clothing purchase and rolling her eyes at every sentence that came out of my mouth. Or, a nine-year old who argues-loudly- the point I make about him not needing one more freaking Webkinz.

And, once again; Jana thanks me for letting her take them.

While shopping, I hit Sam’s Club to replenish my stock of essentials. Essentials in this case being Fuze slenderizing drink, fresh blueberries, Fiber One bars and marinated artichoke hearts in the gallon-sized jar (two of which Hugh went through in the last six weeks, alone, hence the need for replenishment).

Next, I went to Target to pick up a bottle of Bumble & Bumble styling lotion since I got a haircut on Thursday and was in need of something to remind my hair that its job is to flip up all cutesy rather than laying down like an unattractive rug upon my head. We are working on it, my hair and I.

Once I was finished in neighboring city, Hugh and I ventured to the grand opening of a sporting goods store in City Where I Used to Work. The Man-Cub was in need of new baseball cleats, a glove and, um…a new cup for his athletic supporter. Apparently, Penis Jr. has outgrown the pee-wee sized cup and was in need of a youth size. Sniffle, my baby is growing up.

Anywaaay, while we were in the sporting goods, Hugh also decided that the team cannot live for one more minute without a pitching target thingie so, he bought that too. And, since we were there and everything was on sale and we are apparently made out of money; I bought another pair of New Balance trainers (Cute Foot Doctor recommended that brand for the plantar fasciitis, no news yet on whether the extra bone in my foot concurs), a new sports bra and I seriously considered buying a punching bag but Hugh reminded me that the garage isn’t quite ready for that yet so, I demurred.

What we didn’t buy were softball cleats and a glove for The Girl, who will be playing softball this summer and, if you wonder why, please check out paragraph four, sentence two of this document. We did, however, return to the sporting goods on Sunday with The Girl in tow so that she could choose her own, lest you think we favor one child over another.

And, before I forget to mention it; I got to watch Friday night's season premiere of Battlestar Galactica with nothing to come between me and Apollo save for a good glass of Merlot.

It was a very nice weekend.

And, at this point, I realize that I might just have to set up and dedicate a shrine to Jana.

All hail Jana!

Every God Damn Year

We have the same conversation every January:

Hugh: I’m going to start on the taxes early this year.

Chelle: That would be great.

Hugh: Yeah. So, I'm going to keep all our receipts in files so I won't have to sort through them again.

Chelle: Stellar idea, dear.

Hugh: Yeah. That will make it easier and less disorganized and shit.

Chelle: Indeed.

And, where do we find ourselves on April 4th, a mere eleven days from deadline?






Every. God. Damn. Year.

My Ass, My Ass, My Ass Is On Fire!

That’ll teach me to exercise as if I’m in shape or something. Also, are you starting to sense a theme in my entries? My appologies.

So,I totally lost my shit with the Girl this morning. She flat out lied to me about having made her bed and cleaned her room when she had most certainly NOT.

And, not only did she lie to me, but she closed her bedroom door to hide the fact because, obviously, I am too stupid to OPEN a door.

She didn't even have the good grace to act ashamed when I caught her. In fact, she seemed to think that being on Spring Break is a completely reasonable and acceptable excuse for living in a sty. Which it is not.

Anyway, I went a little Joan Crawford on her. Minus the wire hangers, of course.

As I mentioned above, I am very sore from yesterday’s workout. Luckily, however the soreness is in all the right places, namely my ass, the backs of my legs, my shoulders, biceps and stomach. My knees are blessedly free from any pain so, apparently, the noises they were making during the torture session workout were not of the “we are being ruined forever” variety.

Good to know, as I plan to work out again tonight, creating even more misery and soreness.

I’m not entirely certain that the soreness in my body isn’t somehow related to the short fuse connecting to my temper so, you know; The Girl might want to reconsider her stance on a Spring Break cleaning strike.

Oh. My. God. My. Legs. Hurt.

I recently added a new fitness DVD to my vast collection; a DVD starring one Miss Jillian Michaels, star of television's The Biggest Loser. Now, I know what you’re thinking, Jillian is a bitch and, you would be right. But, she bitches out of love people. She wants nothing more than for you to reach your full potential! And, if totally kicking your ass into a quivering mass of jelly-like substance is what it takes for you to achieve your fitness goals, well then, she’s there for you.

A lot of my previous DVDs have been by Kathy Smith and, I must say, the differences in her style versus Jillian’s are, um…profound.

Kathy is like a little ray of sunshine in your day. She encourages you to strive for your best while maintaining a positive and cheerful outlook. Just think! You’ll be peaceful! You’ll be centered! Rainbows! Unicorns!

Jillian, on the other hand, well, there is the whole bitch thing. I think she might just strangle the unicorn and throw his ass over the rainbow if he got in the way of your daily beat-down. Of course, she would do it in the most loving way possible, after all; it’s for your own good.

Anyway. I am sticking with the program because I need a change from my ordinary routine and, really; I like a good bitch.

My thighs thank you, Jillian.

You rotten She Devil.

Well, This Is Unexpected

April Fools! Ha! Got you, didn’t I?

Well, probably not my Dad who looked at that picture and said “What is that?” or my Mom who thought to herself, “Oh, I don't think so; her tubes were cut, torched and eulogized back in 1998 after the Man-Cub crawled from her womb."

And Hugh's first thought? "Hot damn! Medical malpractice suit! Score!"

Ordinarily, I don't do the whole April Fools thing because, just between you and me, I think it is stupid. Seriously, I just don't get it and, frankly, I am too bored to Google what the hell it's all about, anyway. Plus, if I were going to get into it; I would pull something far more creative and twisted than a fake pregnancy.

What about you guys? Do you embrace the bullshit? Any cool April Fools tricks you enjoy playing on your unsuspecting friends and family?

Oooh, better yet; ever been burned by an especially diabolical April Fools joke? Share! It would be nice to have something to add to my practical joke arsenal, just in case I ever change my whole "this is a ridiculous and bogus holiday" stance.

Which isn't likely. After all, I am going to be sooo busy with the twins.

What? I didn't mention that it was twins?

Ha! Got you again!