Happy Halloween 2010

Here are some videos of Elliot singing the trick-or-treat song he learned at school. Enjoy!

I Love to Hate You

I love to hate people on tv. Admit it, you do it too. And if you don't - then you're missing out because there are LOTS of people out there to hate on.

Amber from Teen Mom? Enough said.

My current favorite? Gretchen on Project Runway. She's evil and conniving and manipulative and just downright witchy. And then? She goes and pulls a stunt like she did on last week's episode and has the audacity to make me ALMOST care about her.

She made it into the final 4 and that means you go home with a pile of cash to design your runway show. Only when she went home she found an empty house, no boyfriend and a drained bank account. And just when my cold, black heart started to flutter I remembered back to some of her other shenanigans and decided that her boyfriend was probably counting down the days until she left for NY to be on the show.

Does it excuse his behavior? No.

But did she talk to or about him at all during the show? No.

So... your relationship was already sketchy to begin with and I hereby declare that you are not worth the time and effort to start up this old ticker.

And? Your designs are HIDEOUS.

I can't believe -- spoiler alert -- you won.

High waisted, pleated pants?

I swore that I'd be done with Project Runway if she won - and well, she did. And that combined with all this crap that's gone down with Marie Claire (and the most fabulous rebuttal of all here) this week makes my decision final.

Project Runway? You are out. Auf wiedersehen.

On Riding Elevators

Our office outgrew its space some time ago and we now have space in parts of two floors. Because we're proudly lazy, we tend to ride the elevator up or down that one floor instead of walking 15 yards over to the stairs.

Earlier this week, a co-worker got busted on the elevator hopping on to ride down one floor but the door opened and other passengers were waiting for her to get on. In a moment of self-conscious panic she decided to ride all the way down to first floor to give the appearance of not being so lazy and casually picked up a paper from the lobby as they all left the building.

She immediately hopped the elevator back up to my floor and came into my office laughing about what just happened. (And how, duh, she should have looked like a super-worker and mentioned that she was going to the basement storage to ... organize or something.)

Today she got on the elevator and something magical happened. The guy in the car had a bag full of crispy treats from Noodles and she expressed her love for the treat.

He asked if she'd like one. Heck ya!

He asked if she liked Noodles. Heck ya!

How about Noodles for the whole office tomorrow? Heck ya!

I immediately declared tomorrow "National Elevator Day" wherein you are to avoid taking stairs whenever possible because great things can happen in elevators, and my co-worker is living proof.

Being Justified = I'm Not Crazy

I was talking to Fred last week about my gym class post and how I had just discovered that that instance is likely what made me hate sports so much. His comment?

"You sure seem to be making a lot of discoveries lately."

Not knowing how to take this (is he calling me a liar?!), I said that I should be, considering this is like an online journal that I've been doing for over 3 years and left it at that. But it stayed with me all weekend and led me to wonder if anyone believes the crap I spew out here even though it is true, to the best of my knowledge? I know my mother (hi mom) thinks it's made up or "just more talking" as she put it, but Fred?

So you can imagine my surprise and believe that I damn near fell out of my chair when I was reading the latest issue of Parents where on page 46 is an article titled "The Coach-Couch Connection" that justifies what I said.

"Kids who have a bad experience with a gym teacher or coach may grow up to be sedentary adults ... [a gym teacher or coach] who's demeaning can give a kid a negative association with sports and /or exercise ... [and] can damage kids' self-esteem."

And when I held this article in his face to read, you bet your ass I told him (politely, of course) to SUCK IT because it is real and I'm not crazy.

An Open Letter to The Famous Mouse

Dear Mickey Mouse,

Welcome to Lincoln! I completely forgot you were going to be in town this weekend until my drive into work. I hope you find our cool weather pleasant and take note that we haven't had any snow yet. The Mayor is holding that until after your trip because we know how displaced you're feeling right now.

I assume you use a trucking company and don't just let Goofy or Donald drive so I would like to file a formal request to the trucking company you're using to make sure all of their drivers are properly licensed. I'm just not convinced that he needed to block ALL 4 lanes of traffic and then back in and drive out 6 (yes, I counted) times just to get the truck in the loading area. For a truck driver, I would think that's an essential part of driving a truck.

And six trucks? SIX! Seems someone has a lot of baggage.

Also, the tour buses: I counted 3 buses. THREE. Which, for the relative size of you and your closest friends, isn't that many and I question why you don't have more? Surely Daisy requires her own bus?

While I do appreciate the joy you bring into the lives of children (and suck out of parents for the amount of money they fork out for anything related to you), I am hard-pressed to find the fine elements of Mickey Mouse roadies, blocked traffic lanes and complete lack of parking. On that note - it had BETTER be your roadies creating the thick fog of mary jane smoke and not you or so help me...

Anyway, I better get going. I have to keep pretending like you're not here so that Elliot doesn't demand to visit with you to sing that obnoxious hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog song.

Love,

Anna Seckman

THIS Says it all

Credit: GraphJam

Am I right, Auntie D?

Yeah, I thought so.

I Loved Volleyball Once

I played volleyball in sixth grade; I was a Blessed Sacrament Comet dressed in my red-and-white uniform and bulky white knee pads. I still have a team picture somewhere. I was a decent player but never played again after that year.

I loved it.

Fred scored some tickets to the NU Volleyball game last night (wherein we gave Texas Tech a healthy, corn-fed beating) and I tried to remember why I never played this sport I enjoyed beyond sixth grade. In seventh we switched from private school to public and ---

OH.
MY.
GAWD.
I REMEMBER.

I don’t remember her name, but I can picture her plain as day: my seventh grade gym teacher. Always in a tee-shirt tucked into her high-waisted warm-up pants, she had short hair in tight curls (perm?) and she – SHE – made me forever hate participating in sports.

It all started during a friendly game of field hockey in which we were explicitly told to catch the ball before it went out of bounds so that the game wouldn’t get delayed. I was running after the ball when my fellow teammates yelled let it go! It’s out! while the teacher’s voice played in my head don’t let it go out! As it rolled out of bounds, I quickly retrieved it only to get yelled at in the most inappropriate way from across the field.

Hey!
Hey Girl!
Girl in the PINK SHIRT!
PINK SHIRT!
Why did you let that go out?
I said not to let it go out!
Get the ball, PINK SHIRT!

And my drive was gone in a matter of seconds. I didn’t want to be called PINK SHIRT ever again so I just stayed out of the light, hanging back as far as I could to still get the passing mark but not have to be called out again. I often wonder two things: would I have felt different had she used my name (mine seemed to be the one she didn't know), and does she remember this incident?

I sealed my fate later that year while playing volleyball. I was desperately trying to avoid having to hit the ball.

And then it happened.

The other team hit the ball and up-up-up it went into the giant lights and it was gone. I swear it took a solid 45 seconds before it came down again – right on top of my head, smacking me so hard I nearly fell down. I got it again.

Hey!
Why didn’t you hit that?
Why weren’t you looking?

Not a quick check to see if I was okay and no acknowledgement that we were all sort of looking around wondering where the heck that ball went. (Has she ever tried to look up at an old gym ceiling, stare into the lights and find a volleyball?) I failed her again and she let me and the entire class know.

I never played – or wanted to play – team sports again after that.
And I wonder if she ever realized what an effect she had on one student.

What Preschool Tuition Pays For

Sometimes I question what Elliot learns at preschool. I see some progress in letter writing and manners (and even sign language) but its instances like this happen that I wonder:

E: JESUS!

E: Don't say that.

A: What?!

E: Don't say what I say.

A: What?

E: Don't. Say. What. I. Say.

A: What did you say?

E: Jesus.

A: What? (clearly still baffled)

E: I dropped my toy.

E: Jesus.

Getting to Know Anna Seckman

Here we go for Round 2 of getting to the know the Seckmans that are Saying Things here. This time, spotlight is on yours truly.

You might be wondering how this all came about and well, I'll tell you. I actually wanted to play a 'Dating Game' kind of game where he had to answer things about ME. But. Well. He didn't. So now I'm making due with the answers I had already provided.

Without further ado:

What is your idea of a good date?

Dinner and a movie

You're stranded on an island, what three things would you have?

A book, sunglasses and a boat

Your house is on fire. What do you grab?

Sewing machine

What is the first thing you do when you wake up?

Go back to sleep

Do you see a glass half-empty or half-full?

I don't even have a glass

What do you see yourself doing when you retire?

Driving around the country to see things

You are driving and get lost. What do you do?

Panic and then blame Fred or yell at my mom's Garmin Guy

You've just been told you have a few months to live. What do you do?

Travel - a lot

How do you impress a date's parents or friends?

By breaking their chair at dinner (right Jim and Cindy?)

A kid comes up to you and kicks you in the shin. What do you do?

Cuss and yell at him and imagine kicking him back

If you could invite anyone to dinner, who and what would you talk about?

Amelia Earhart and flying

Your work lets you out early. What do you do with this free time?

Go home. Nap, read or sew.

A cashier gives you too much money back. What do you do?

Try to give it back (I can't steal pens either)

If you could work in any profession, what would it be?

Something relating to fabric

What are some nicknames you've had?

Banana, Rekicnew, Dorothy, Roomby, Lardo, Weinerbutt Wenciker

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Well, there you have it. I'm mostly shocked I made it through that without throwing in a Y&R reference! Holla to Victor Newman! Ooops, spoke too soon.

Getting to Know Fred Seckman

In a world where a high percentage of marriages end in a divorce, it was nice to read that after you make it through the first (blissful) 5 years, it drops to a 10% chance. Sitting pretty at 6 years and 2-ish months, I think we're one of the 90 that are going to go all the way.

Because really? Fred is all kinds of awesome.

His name is Fred Seckman and he's the other half of the Seckmans that are Saying Things. He's a bright young man (C's get degrees!) that is nice to his wife and child and isn't getting paid to do so - bonus! Born in 1980, he is a young lad who specializes in sarcasm and has a general dislike of all people.

My people, meet Fred:

What is your idea of a good date?

September 14, 2015

You're stranded on an island, what 3 things would you have?

A boat, satellite phone and GPS

Your house is on fire, what do you grab as you run out?

My ass

What is the first thing you do when you wake up?

Hit the snooze button

Do you see a glass half-empty or half-full?

Depends on what liquid is in the glass

What do you see yourself doing when you retire?

Nothing. Isn't that the point of retiring?

You are driving and get lost, what do you do?

Find myself on my phone's Google Maps App

You've just been told you have a few months to live, what do you do?

Jump out the window to prove the doctor wrong

How do you impress a date's parents or friends?

Not meet them

A kid comes up to you and kicks you in the shin. What do you do?

Trick question. No kid is quick enough to kick me in the shins, therefore the kid in question must be a super powered kid. Thus, there would be nothing to do unless I had super powers, which I do not. So I would then be forced to work on being bitten by a radioactive spider or finding a power ring to endow me with sufficient powers to see the child out for to achieve retribution.

If you could invite anyone to dinner, who would it be and what would you talk about?

Myself and we'd talk about me

Your work lets you out early, what do you do with the free time?

Another trick question. All time is free, do you see a time store somewhere? Do you have to pay for your time? It's work that must buy my time.

A cashier gives you too much money back. What do you do?

I use electronic payment therefore this question does not apply to me. If an ATM gives me too much money the bank should look for the programmer that allowed the error and get their money from him/her.

If you could work in any profession, what would it be?

Unemployment

What are some nicknames you've had?

Most of them are inappropriate

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wow. Enlightening, right?

Tune in next time for my responses.

Ten Years Later

I did about a 2 year stint at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, NM. For 11 of those months, I lived with Danielle and Rosie nearly lived with us. For 10 of those months we were the best of friends.

Rosie, Danielle and Me - 2000

Then things fell apart (I won't bore you, will just note that we were 20 and 22 years old stupid girls) and we all went our separate ways.

Enter facebook.

We found each other and started talking and in August we decided we were going to Denver to celebrate Danielle's 30th birthday, booked flights, booked a hotel and anxiously waited to see each other again. That day was this past Friday.

Within 5 minutes of meeting Rosie at her gate, we were laughing and hugging and on our way to find Danielle. Within 2 minutes of climbing in her car we were completely reverted back to that age and acting as silly as ever. And laughing until I was choking. And then laughing some more. By the time we got to the hotel, my stomach hurt and I was in tears.

The girls were back together: Hose, Smell and Banana.

There's a really good reason why friends like us should really only meet up with each other. I would feel sorry for any "outsider" that would laugh along at our comments but have no idea what we're actually talking about.

Remember that time that Larry was over and then you went to Kevin's? HA HA HA Remember your cute little Home Depot apron? Remember when all the cooks from Bennigan's showed up at our apartment? HA HA HA Remember when we had that accident with that bicyclist? Only Rosie said HA HA HA to that one. Remember when Omar tried to tell you it was 'Back That Thing Up' and you proved him wrong? Remember the girls next door? HA HA HA

You're annoyed, aren't you?

It was as if it really hasn't been 10 years of kids, husbands, mortgages and, instead, like we'd all just gotten home from work or class and were ready to watch some Springer. That is, of course, if Rosie wasn't too busy "listening" to her alarm clock radio.

Rosie, Danielle and Me - 2010

I'm looking forward to 2020 when we meet again.

It Starts at the Age of 3

Setting: Old Chicago

Actors: Fred, Anna and Elliot

E: Dad, is this the place we play the games and shoot the aminals?

F: Yes, last time we played the video games here.

E: We play tonight, maybe.

F: I don't think so, I don't have any money.

E: Yes you do.

F: No, I don't.

E: Mommy?

A: Sorry, I don't have any money. All we have is plastic.

E: (Laughing) That's silly.

...

E: I hafta go potty.

F: Me or mommy?

E: Mommy.

...

E: (Quietly, in bathroom) Mommy?

A: Yeah?

E: You have money I can have?

A: Honey, I don't have anything.

E: I can have some money maybe?

A: I have exactly ZERO (making a zero with my hands) dollars.

E: (Grinning) I'll take that!

A: Oh no, zero means nothing, nada. I don't have any money.

E: Oh. That makes me sad.

A: Elliot did you go potty just to ask me for money?

E: I probally did maybe.

Things That Make Me Laugh: Toy Recalls

The latest round of toy recalls has me in a fit of giggles.

I’m all about safety, but at what point have we taken it too far? At the rate we’re going, it’ll be required to send children outside in layers of sun block, protective clothing and head-to-toe bubble wrap all while in a 5-point safety harness of some kind, lest the wind should blow up again and potentially knock you over.

Anyone else climb out of the back of a station wagon after hopping the seat and run around all day barefoot* and in the sun while playing kick the can?

That’s how I learned to NOT step on bees. It’s how I learned to NOT leave your Cabbage Patch Doll out in the sun (hint: her head caves in). That’s also how I learned to NEVER play flashlight tag in a backyard you’re unfamiliar with (I may or may not have run into someone’s clothesline)(with my right eye)(and failed at pretending it didn’t happen). And why you should ALWAYS wear shoes while riding a bike.

We lived and we learned.

If you didn’t get hurt – you weren’t playing hard enough.

But now... the sun could burn them. Dirt is for nothing more than carrying germs and gross-ness. They rarely leave the house without shoes. That wood hammer could crush their skull. That hinge could close and pinch their wee finger. If they gnawed all of the printing off of 483 blocks, they could possibly maybe get a teensy bit of lead in their system!

My brothers made a skateboard ramp from plywood and 2x4s and it kicked ass. It also kicked our asses numerous times but that didn’t stop me from riding my bike over it. We had guns that were made for the sole purpose of shooting rubber bands.

Rubber bands! My sister got shot in the eye with one** and before that I was persuaded to shove one up my nose.** Oh the horror. I fell out of a tree** and knocked the wind out of myself. My mom was yelled for and responded with “pick yourself up, Anna, you’re fine.”

But she was tough. My mom is from the “walked both ways uphill in the snow with one boot and a dress on” generation and has a gnarly scar on her knee from playing on a heavy duty piece of farm equipment with about 387 circular, and sharp, blades on it. No doctor visit, no stitches, just a “you’ll be fine” and she was sent on her way.

And guess what... she IS fine.

And all four of her children are fine.

And when Elliot falls?

Oh don't listen to him, he's JUST FINE.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

*If I was wearing shoes, it was to show off my new clear, glitter jellies.

**All the more reasons to not provide a sibling for Elliot.

An Open Letter to My Husband

When your wife is fighting the nasty cold that you and your son gave her (thanks, btw), please remember to open the flue on the fireplace so that the smoke doesn't set off the alarm and wake her up at 7 am.

XOXO,

Your Wife

Why I'm Not Following Your Blog

I recently embarked on the task of all tasks - I cleaned out my Google Reader. It was a somewhat painful task as I had accumulated 243 blogs that were demanding my attention on a pretty regular basis. More and more I found myself marking specific blogs as "read" more than any other so I jotted down what I didn't like.

And then the fun began.

I printed out a list of the blogs and then, taking a total of 8 seconds, I deleted EVERY SINGLE SUBSCRIPTION out of my Google Reader. Yep, every last one of them.

Yep, even you. Sorry - nothing personal.

Friends and family were absolutely added back in, no questions asked. (Yes, even those of you that haven't posted since some time in early 2009.) Then I applied my rules and added back 102 subscriptions ... these folks didn't make the cut:

• You have cats as the focus of nearly every picture – and not the funny i can has cheeseburger cats.
• I have to click through to your blog to read the post.
• You blather on about the exact same thing every single day.
• Sewing blog specific: your fabric choices suck. Regularly.
• You are annoying and talk about how much you love your "hubsie" every day. No one loves their "hubsie" every day. NO ONE. IT'S NOT HEALTHY.
• Product placement is obvious in movies but even more so when a usual mommy-blogger starts ranting on (DAILY!) about what great product she just got! And oh! look! it's free if I just review it right here on my blog! and force you to read it! and pretend to care! Isn't that fabulous?

Did I leave anything out? What annoys you on blogs?

And if you say that I annoy you, I will only subscribe to you harder.