Sunday, May 30, 2010

Elliot has News ... Apparently

Elliot: (words I can't understand) (words I can't understand) (words I can't understand) my baby sister (words I can't understand).

Anna: What?

Elliot: (words I can't understand) my baby sister!

Anna and Fred: WHAT??

Anna: You have a baby sister?

Elliot: Yeah.

Fred: What's her name?

Elliot: (very sure of himself) JuniorAmanda.

Anna: Did you say Junior ... Amanda?

Elliot: Yeah, she my baby sister!

Anna: Huh. And where does JuniorAmanda live?

Elliot: In the toy room (words I can't understand) and things.

Anna, to Fred: News to me.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

I'm Fearlessly Afraid of Everything

Socially acceptable things to be scared of: black widow spiders, heights, cannibals, rabid raccoons and for a lot of the population, clowns (thank you, Stephen King) and ghosts.

Things I am scared of: most of the above, moths, library detectors, railroad crossings, garbage disposals and automatic car washes.

I wish I had some rad story about being on top of a building with a cannibal and surround by moths and then fell off and landed in a car wash with a railroad crossing going through the middle of it. But I don’t. I don’t really know why I have these fears.

Back in the early days of FnA (Fred and Anna, but sounds cooler when pronounced Effin A!), I once freaked out and made Fred pull over so I could get out of the car and run around frantically while he shooed out a moth. A moth! Not a rattlesnake or a nest of angry wasps – a moth. They’re such a dumb creature. At least rattlesnakes and wasps have a point (which is to kill you) whereas moths just fly around like dummies running into each other and anything around them all in a frantic effort to continually fly into and around a light source. ICK.

This last Friday we hosted a going away party for those people that are leaving us in this gloriously hot, flat, cow and corn filled state for a horribly tropic, non-blizzarding and sunny state that happens to be at the ocean’s edge ...

wait, what was I talking about?

Yes, the party. Mary Kate was the lucky one to witness my fear of the garbage disposal when all she asked me to do was flip the switch and I shrieked like a little girl. At home, I’ll do it, it’s just that I’ll have my eyes closed and be standing as far away from the switch as humanly possible. What am I afraid of? A spoon or something might come out and attack me. No, seriously. Stop laughing. It’s true.

I think half of my excitement on getting a nook was so that I wouldn’t have to freak out every time I enter and leave the library, thinking the alarms are going to go off.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Anna Says WHAT?

No, seriously, what? This is REAL? And it's logo is A FART?

The Better Marriage Blanket?

With carbon fibers to gobble up your spouse's fart?

Then why bother farting?!

Thank you, Aunt Becky, for showing this to me.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

A "Textbook" Married Person Conversation

A: When do you want to go look (at the furniture)? Saturday or tonight?

F: We can go tonight if you want. Burger King for supper!

A: Tonight and Culver's for supper?

F: And I see your Culver's and raise you an Amigo's!

A: I strike your Amigo's motion and make a motion to dine at Lazlo's.

F: Hmmm.... We'll just have to wait and see.

A: So you're telling me there's a chance.......

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

S.N.O.: A Definition

Often times when we're out eating, either myself or Fred spots a SNO. The other looks to confirm and then we both listen on in shock and amazement.

What is a SNO? It's a Sunday Night Out-er. It's the people that only go out to eat one time a week and they pick a place that they can barely afford, order only from the sandwich menu, drink only water, share their meals with their kids and nit pick the server TO DEATH over anything and everything in an attempt to shave some more dollars off their bill.

As a former server, I just hate 'em.

After all that running around and likely getting a manger involved, they leave you with two things: 1.) A disgusting table with ketchup smeared, fries ground into the floor, pop spilled, errant straws, 483 used napkins and 2.) A tip for $1.50 if they thought you were "good."

SNO's rank right up there with the Medwick-named OFM. The Obnoxious Fat Moron. These are the folks that hog up the aisle in Wal-Mart deciding between the 27 varieties of toothpaste and their kids are running around and jumping in the cart like a bunch of un-trained monkeys. I just want some toothpaste. Colgate, plain. But you have parked your cart of banshees in the middle of the aisle. And when I said 'excuse me' you ignored me. Screw it, I just won't brush anymore.

My heart goes out to every employee of an establishment when you see them coming in their white stretch pants, or acid-washed shorts with a fanny pack and at least 5 kids that you know the next hour of your life is definitely NOT WORTH the $2.15 you're getting paid. I repeatedly cringed last week when we watched our beloved Lazlo's family (read: staff) had to deal with some directly behind us.

So you can imagine my response when Fred said "New house means less eating out. Or, we keep eating out but have to be SNO's."

Uh-uh Fred. I'd rather starve.
But hey, we haven't moved yet - so Lazlo's tonight?

Thursday, May 13, 2010


eReaders: Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble nook and the very uniquely named Sony Reader are all over the place right now and have been the topic of many a conversation over the last few months.

With everything else in life going digital, why should we do that with our books? I love turning pages (and sneaking a peek “accidentally” at the last few pages) and love my new Mr. T bookmark. I like having books on shelves, going to the library and trading with friends. Surely, I would not like to read my books on a mini computer.

But then I learned that it’s not really a mini computer.

That the pages on the eReaders read just like books. You have buttons to flip pages. You can see the covers of the books on the device. You can pick out your next book while sitting on the couch. They are priced cheaper than the physical books and many, many titles are available for free. It bookmarks itself, it looks up words you don’t know and even lets you archive the title away when you’ve finished reading it. No overdue book fees (hi, Lincoln City Libraries, yes I know I have fees and no, I don’t plan to pay them until it’s worth paying for) or a race to finish before they’re due.

And I wanted one.

Bad enough that Captain Consumer Reports (read: Fred) researched the best one to fit ME. Not him, or the collective “us” – but ME. And what did I get for my birthday?

The Barnes & Noble nook.
I upgraded to a lime green back.
Created a case. (of course!)

And I am in love.
L - O - V - E, LOVE.

Monday, May 10, 2010

The Mothers in My Life

I'm a day late for Mother's Day.
I was entirely to busy doing NOTHING to be bothered.

We didn't get around to gifts this year of any kind but I did manage to give my biological mother a quick call - so I'm not a total loser.

The only mothers I haven't yet said "thanks for being a mother" to are the non-biological mothers I've experienced over the years:

Aunt Donna. My "Lincoln Mom" (until, of course, she ditched us all for Omaha) took me in and treated me as one of her own when I first moved back to Nebraska. She also gives out full-size, name brand candy bars for Halloween.

Fred's Grandma Judy. She is - hands down - the best Christmas Letter Writer I've ever known. Thoughtful, witty and honest. She also keeps a journal and writes in it daily... and has no problem looking stuff up solely for the satisfaction of proving someone wrong.

Terri at New Mexico State. For hovering over me during my stint at college there, making Thanksgiving Dinner, picking me up from the ER and comforting me when my grandparents got put in the nursing home miles and miles away.

Jen and Stacey. For all of the invaluable advice. On everything. And for not being afraid to tell me when to shut up.

Cindy. Technically, my mother-in-law, she is my Tecumseh Mom who treats me like another daughter and has welcomed me to the family ever since the day I fell off the dining room chair. She also makes corn casserole and Texas sheet cake. For all occasions. Or no occasion.

Mother****** Who Cut Me Off. Driving home from work with a wee baby in the backseat, I'm glad you cut me off - and even more glad I was able to swerve, spin and stop in time - because I learned 1) to appreciate the little human in the backseat that much more and 2) to be more cautious at intersections even when I have the green light you blind %*#(@)*#!!. I mean, really, did you not see my shiny red car barrelling down the highway? And why - you pompous jerk - did you smile at me as I nearly jumped the curb after spinning around? And why - you arrogant wiener - did you not even tap your brakes to make sure I was okay? Did you even care? Did you care that I was so shaken up that I bawled the entire #%^&(@^ way home? I hate you!

... oops got a little off track there.
Point being, I love all the Mommas in my life.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Silent Thunderstorms

Springtime in Nebraska means one thing: thunderstorms. (Well, two if you count tornadoes but seeing how they accompany thunderstorms I only count the root cause.)

We had a big storm of thunder, lightning and two inches of rain rip through here one night last week and I found myself in a new situation. One that I was kind of unprepared for yet knew we would someday face: religion.

Elliot was going to bed and a loud thunder cracked overhead, making our house shake and making our 3 year old refuse to sleep. “Mommy!” he yelled out, starting to cry, “The thunder HURT me!” Having never seen him so terrified, my heart instantly broke for his fear of something that cannot physically hurt you. Ever. He cuddled up in my lap on the rocking chair.

I softly explained that the thunder didn’t hurt him, but had scared him. And while it’s okay to be scared of things, he should know that thunder can’t do anything but make loud noises. And then he asked “what is thunder?”

It stopped me mid-rock.

The only thing whirring through my mind was the story from my youth: God is bowling. God is bowling. God is bowling. God. Is. Bowling.

The idea of a God is something I struggle with, and have struggled with for some time. It’s not that I don’t believe, because I don’t know if I do or don’t. I struggle with Religion as a whole – the logistics, rituals, different religions and gods available for worship, my constant level of discomfort in a church for any reason, availability of science-based explanations – and can’t see myself teaching him something that I don’t really support.

I know I’m not alone in this thinking.

And so I sat there quietly for a minute and decided I would explain it rationally – the only way that I know I can back up if necessary, the only thing I believe for sure: thunder comes from clouds banging into each other way up in the sky.

He was satisfied with my answer.

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Comments will be left on; be respectful.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Saying YES to Squelching Humor

Since its inception, I’ve been 100% FOR the proposed new arena in Lincoln. Downtown facilities are either lacking in space or quality. And I’m all for paying in when it means great services, facilities, parks and schools.

But... a new Arena likely means the demise of the Pershing Center.
And... the new Arena would be in a different area of downtown.

The Pershing Center has been around longer than bananas, and it quite outdated, inconvenient and really quite dilapidated. With a ceiling missing some tiles and buckets all over to catch drips, is it really a good idea to have trapeze artists swinging from what remains of it? At the intermission of the Sesame Street Live performance, wouldn't it be nice for the one bathroom near us to have more than 3 stalls when each of us parents is toting a potty-training preschooler?

Getting rid of The Persh (pronounced purzsh) (yes, I’m the only one that says this) means getting rid of my source for humor. If the skaters aren’t across the street from my office, will I be able to mock them mercilessly? Who will yell at me as I cross the street before the crosswalk flashes? What about the circus cows? Who will watch the groupies hovering in their best EMO outfits to try and get a glimpse of their idol?

Another issue? Pershing is home to many annual pancake feeds.
Yeah, I know. A real tragedy indeed.

While I’d like to believe a new arena could bring in some great shows that currently only happen in Omaha, I’m not sure. Whether it’s Omaha or Lincoln, you’re still in Nebraska and let’s face it: people think Nebraska is pretty lame.


Aziz Ansari just canceled on us to host the VMAs.
Dr. House doesn’t even believe Nebraska exists.

But will I still vote for it? YES.
I just might have to find a new job closer to the arena.
Priorities, people. Priorities.