I Win, I Win!

Last night, Hugh requested grilled chicken for dinner. Two weeks in and I. Am. The. Winner.

I would get more excited about my victory but, my heads hurts and it did all weekend despite spending Saturday on the couch doing absolutely nothing but napping and watching really crappy television. Also, my left eyelid has been twitching for the past week and my jaw aches on the right side; sinus issues much?

Nevertheless, I have a busy day today; I am taking a QuickBooks class at the local vocational/technical college. I haven’t taken a formal class since um…hold on, I’m thinking…and, I can’t remember, it’s been so long.

I just hope my headache doesn’t prevent me from absorbing the lesson, although that would be a really great excuse for failure now, wouldn’t it?

Speaking of failure, Hugh intended to get the rest of the Halloween stuff put back in the attic this weekend. He also intended to hang the outdoor Christmas lights while the weather is still good, saving him from having to traverse the large expanse of our roof in the cold and dark later this month; he failed epically on both counts and, on finishing the winterizing of our boat for good measure.

The fact that he failed to outlast me in the Great Chicken Challenge of 2009 was the cherry on top of his Failure Sundae and, yes, I’m still on that topic because, in case you forgot; I win, I win, I win.

Damnit, it hurt my head just typing that; this does not bode well for the QuickBooks class.

Alas, Poor Romeo Will Surrender Fair Juliet

The Teenager is fighting an ongoing battle with a nasty stomach virus and, this afternoon, I finally took her to see the doctor, where she was diagnosed with…a nasty stomach virus and told to ease up on the French fries and to make friends with Pepto Bismal.

At the clinic, a nurse greeted us with wild enthusiasm and insisted upon introducing herself since she had been and I quote, dying to meet me. Turns out she is the mother of a little girl whom the Man-Cub has been crushing on this year. After her wildly enthusiastic introduction, she told me all about how the Man-Cub is so sweet to her daughter, opening doors for her and writing her poems

I know!  Poems!

As an aside, I would truly love to see the fantastical spelling and grammar contained in those missives and, as usual, I digress.

Anyway, the lovely (and enthusiastic) woman also told me that, while there has been some talk of peer pressure from her daughter’s little girlfriends, her daughter has yet to" hug it out" with the Cub and good thing, too; because she would be very disappointed in her daughter if there was any of that nonsense.

Disappointed, really? ‘Cause I would be just fine with it.

You know, assuming her daughter still finds the Cub attractive once he is wearing one of those fancy Catholic school uniforms.

Thursday Thirteen, Edition Twenty-Three:
Thirteen Things I Like

1.  My mom’s homemade biscuits and gravy.

2.  Watching the birds stalking the food in our feeders. Watching the cats stalking the birds stalking the food in the feeders. Watching the Man-Cub, stalking the cats stalking the birds stalking the food in our feeders. It’s like Wild Kingdom over here.

3.  The first cup of coffee in the morning.

4.  Buying a new bottle of the OPI, my latest purchase was Dear Santa, a sparkly red shade just perfect for the holidays.

5.  Doing a job right the first time.

6.  Cookbooks, I must have forty of them.

7.  Sleeping between clean sheets.

8.  My new white iron guestroom bed, purchased last week at an antique sale for far less than it is worth.

9.  Finding treasures at antique sales.

10.  Exploring I Spy books with the Man-Cub before bedtime.

11.  Cuddling with The Teenager on the couch, watching movies starring leading men whom we both agree are hawt; ogling celebrities, the latest way to bridge the Generation Gap.

12.  Going to plays with Hugh, even when he grouses about them being musicals like, really? A musical? Why?! Why for the love of God?! Whyyyy....(in my defense, he loved Wicked).

13.  Pomegranates, especially this time of year when they are priced-and sized- right.

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The First Sign of the Apocalypse

The Man-Cub asked me what the word horny meant. And he understood my explanation.

Bomb shelters, people; you might want to look into one.

Another Day, Another Trip to the Principal’s Office

This morning, The Teenager made a frantic call to me from her Spanish classroom; we had a Hotdog emergency.

Hotdog is our codeword for immediate extraction from an unpleasant situation and can be used in one of the following cases:

-She can’t think of a polite way to escape from a friend’s house and wants me to order her home, thus reducing the possibility of hurting a friend’s feelings.

-She’s in a dangerous or uncomfortable situation which could include-but is not limited to- drugs, alcohol, peer pressure or chainsaw weilding homicidal maniacs.

-She in imminent danger of a Period Catastrophe.

I don’t suppose that I have to tell you there were no homicidal maniacs in Spanish class, today, chainsaw weilding or not.

It was, indeed, a Period Catastrophe: her Spanish teacher refused to allow her to go to the bathroom and she was loathe to explain her predicament to him.

As I was instructing her to hand the phone to the teacher, I heard him in the background, ordering her to get off the phone which; I completely understand given the fact that using the phone during class is against school policy, and she hung up before I could explain her situation to the teacher.

A Hotdog Extraction Plan was put into action and the situation was cleared up but, not before Hugh and I had to spend half an hour in the Principal’s office, explaining what had occurred and then another fifteen minutes wishing for the earth to swallow us whole as we listened to the Principal describe some techniques for dealing with menstruating teenagers to the poor clueless Spanish teacher who was, no doubt, wishing he had his own codeword for immediate extraction from an unpleasant situation.

Good times, people. Good times.

Two Down, a Shitload Left to Go

Today, I purchased the first two Christmas presents of the season. Some people might read that and roll their eyes like “God, one of those people who start early”. People who know me will read it and think “Damn, girlfriend is behind this year” and, I am; I usually have the majority of my shopping well in hand by now, to be finished up the week before Thanksgiving, leaving nothing but the odds and ends and stocking stuffers to be picked up between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The only excuse for my tardiness this year is, well, I don’t have an excuse; I just kind of said, fuck it. The gifts will get purchased. They will get wrapped. The holiday will be super-celebrated just like it is every year with one slight exception; I’m not stressing over it like I usually do.

And, I’ll let you know how that goes.

In other news, I made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. It’s not exactly gourmet but it ain’t chicken.

….Something Wicked This Way Comes

You all know I love Halloween, right? You know I had a great time decorating the house, carving the jack-o-lanterns, baking creepy treats for the kids and planning the haunted house for The Teenager’s friends, now, I’ll let you in on a little secret; I am so glad Halloween is over.

I’m exhausted, y’all.

I spent the entire day yesterday on my feet. When I wasn’t cooking and setting up for The Teenager’s party, I was helping Hugh set up the haunted house. When I wasn’t doing that, I was grocery shopping or helping The Man-Cub with his costume. When I wasn’t doing that, I was running errands for Hugh. It was enough to tire a younger person and, people, I am not young.

It was all worth it, of course.

The Man-Cub went Trick-or-Treating as a down-on-his-luck hobo. We cobbled the costume together with pieces we found at The Salvation Army, making it, officially; the cheapest Halloween costume we have ever dressed him in.

Since The Teenager was having her friends over, I allowed the Cub to invite a friend to spend the night. The friend’s costume, and this was not planned at all, was a box. He went Trick-or-Treating as a cardboard box.

So, I had a homeless hobo and his box.

Politically correct, I am not.

The Teenager’s friends seemed to enjoy the haunted house almost as much as Hugh, Chris, and several of our other friends enjoyed scaring the beejezus out of them. Since Hugh had gone to all the effort the make the thing; we also allowed Trick-or-Treaters to go through it once they got their candy. We had several older kids who refused to venture in and a couple of brave little people who tried it more than once.

There was, unfortunately, no peeing of the pants, so, while it wasn’t our most successful creation to date; it did ok.

The most terrifying part of the night?

Having this many teenagers in my home. Goddamn, are those kids noisy.

Oh, and I ran out of candy for the first time, ever so, thanks to daylight savings time giving us back that hour; we got to spend extra time worrying over whether or not some freak, denied his Laffy Taffy, would toilet-paper our trees or egg our house, none of which happened but, still, spooooky.

*Full set of pictures can be found here.