Giants 24 - Patriots 20

You heard it here first.


proper attire

So. I have an interview tomorrow. The position is one where I can telecommute after training. 'Perfect for stay-at-homes' is in the description.

Does that mean that I can wear sweatpants and a NEW YORK GIANTS hat to the interview?


There are times when it sneaks up on you - your motherless status. Everything is singing along and then you realize that somehow you've gotten to 30 thousand feet and you look down to realize you're flying at the same moment you realize it's impossible. 'Help!', you think. But there is no one there for you.


I have cultivated mothers. Mostly by accident. Serendipitous women that have come along and helped smooth the rough hole. Some old, some young, all wonderous bricks in the 'me' I've had to build. You all know who you are and you know I'm thankful.


So my darling friend calls me today. Her babe is really sick. She is, too, but that almost is beside the point. She has to make the call about calling the doctor and perhaps a trip to the ER. The nurse gets back to her, is noncommittal, and so my darling friend has to make the decision. She has to make the decision.

We speak. She carefully weighs the facts, the numbers, her feelings, the distress which cannot be voiced by her babe - and decides to head into the Emergency Room.

I tell her it's exactly what I would do. She is thankful to me for saying so. She wasn't sure she was right. Was she overreacting? Should she wait? Should she have waited so long? ... She is comforted knowing I would do the same thing. We tend to validate one another's instincts. Because we're both motherless.


You're singing along, 30 thousand feet, and you wonder how it is all possible. It probably isn't possible but somehow, together, we make it through.

no life and yet, over scheduled ...

Here's the email I had to send to a group of lovely women today. We all wiggled and maneuvered and switched stuff ... all so we could get together. All together. With kiddies. En masse. And it was going to be fun! So, here is my life in a snapshot. An ugly little snapshot...

Dear Wimins:

The thing you least know about me is that I've abused this body for nearly 43 years. Downhill skiing. Sometimes crashing hard. Competitive field hockey. With many extra miles run for being 'lippy' - go figure. An ill-fated foray into rugby in my 30s....??!!

Anyway, at my yearly exam with a new, and completely intelligible non-drug pushing*, doc I was informed that the saran-like noises issuing from my knees are deteriorating cartilage and a kneecap that isn't tracking properly.

Now, for those of you keeping track, since moving to Massachusetts I've had a botched lady-parts surgery that required immediate surgery to keep my urethra from being completely severed, and I had a root canal that was so haphazardly executed that I required weekly trips to a specialist in Boston so I didn't lose half my face. Evidently, 'practicing medicine' in Massachusetts means something different than other places.

So, I call the best guy in VT and I know the receptionist [how many people are named 'T***a'? I was psyched!] and she got me in for a consult and x-rays on Wednesday morning. So, I won't be here. For our playdate. I suck. Forget you know me because although, ostensibly, I have no life - it turns out I'm over scheduled. Heading north and probably again when it is determined that I am, in fact, falling completely apart.


* our last doc did all communication via his scrip pad. I never understood what he said, but he gave the best treats ever :)

**AMENDED TO ADD: Just when you think life has thrown all its lemons for the day right at your eye and you were looking away and 9 out of every 10 lemons hit you right on the cornea ... well, then the phone rings and you foolishly take the cold pack off your eye and answer:

woman's voice: Hi! Is this Nita?

me: Yes. How can I help you?

wv: I'm calling from the LaLa Animal Hospital. We haven't seen Hobbes in a while and I'm just calling to see how he's doing and if there's anything we can help you with!

me: He's dead.

wv: Ooo, sorry. I'll be sure to update our records.

me: That would be really, really lovely.

And that, my friends, is about all I've got for today. Tata!


Our house is in the middle of a construction project that will lead to a room shuffle. This means that no room has the right furniture, every room is a disaster, and I had to put my foot down because the microwave was next to the door to the garage so, of course, Bear just plugged it in and started using it there! On the floor! Next to the door to the garage! ... boys.

So, I cleaned up as best I could and headed to Vermont. I miss my best friend, she's in a funk, I'm in a funk, blahblahblah I just needed a little change of scenery. We'll be home by Saturday in time to finish the projects with Bear and restore order. But I couldn't look at insulation for one more minute.

Anyway, Rio has always got some new game she wants to try out. On the four hour ride we talked and talked, and then she napped a bit, and then when she woke up she wanted to play 'Switch.'

rio: You are Rio and I'm Mommy.

me: Okay, I don't want a nap! I want vanilla milk! I don't need a bath! [this is rewarded with a big smile and much snickering from the backseat]

rio: You are taking a bath! No shoes on the bed! No saying 'No Jack'! Fruit makes you poooooop! [she breaks this highly unflattering rant to ask for my water bottle. stupidly, I hand it over]

me: I'm thirrrrsty! [totally mocking her] I'm thirrrrrrrrrrrrrsty! I'm thirrrrrstyyyyyyyyyyy! Can I have your water?

rio: No!

me: Really, can I have it back?

rio: No! No! Nooooooooooooooooooooo! [at this point she starts laughing maniacally and waving the open water bottle around like she just won the Indy 500, soaking the backseat, the back of my head, and eliminating the last bit of liquid and I really was parched!]

Am I really like that?! You can be honest....

Dear Striking Writers :

Dear Striking Writers:

I know you folks have real and serious issues that you're confronting and I support you! That said, I'm getting some real and serious issues of my own rolling here. When I heard somewhere in the din of motherhood that the strike might mean 'more reality television,' well, I didn't know how that would impact me.

So far this month I've developed an unhealthy obsession with Celebrity Apprentice and I'm glued to American Idol right this very second. Can I just say that our entire country is delusional? Not in the harmless way, either.

But I just saw an ad [Bear, please fix the old TiVo. Real-time is going to be the death of me.] for 'Moment of Truth.' Evidently, people are allowing themselves to be hooked up to a lie detector machine and then they are answering the most horrid questions. "Do you think you'll be married to your husband five years from now? Would you cheat on your wife if you knew you wouldn't be caught?"

Seriously? They should just call it, "Fuck Your Marriage Beyond Recognition in Front of Millions." I wonder if they'll be doing updates with Nancy Grace on the people who shoot each other after the show ...

So, um, please? We're totally getting in so deep ... wait, can I tell you that I have no idea who Payton Manning plays for but I live for his commercials?!

Nevermind, I'm already gone.


in it to win it

So! Want to know what's a particularly rotten idea? Telling your bolt-for-the-road daughter, who once forceably corralled into her carseat begins throwing things at your head, that she is getting a time-out when you get home.

And your home is 12 long minutes away.

Funny thing? The whole time I'm driving and she's throwing and screaming like she's being flayed, I'm thinking:

I know you can't punish a dog after the fact. They don't get it. You've got to catch them in the act or a correction seems out-of-the-blue to a dog. Is it the same with kids? Aside from the fact that her foreknowledge is making this trip seem like an effing eternity - is a time-out appropriate when we get home? Will she understand why she's on the naughty spot? Should I have given her the time-out on the stairs of the post office? Does she know I wish her carseat was on top of the car? If I'm a Mormon, can I put all 'family members' on top of the car and not get arrested? Or go to hell? More?

Yesterday was horrid. I can only hope today is better. She has 2.5 hours of school. I plan to look in the window and if she is still sporting 'the face', I'm just gonna leave her there. Really, what are they going to do? Tie her outside? No, a teacher will take her home. And call Bear at work.

Yeah. I have a plan.

Stay tuned to your local news.

more brilliance in parenting

I was texting a friend of mine the other day about his son's new glasses. It was weird to be texting another grown-up, because I mostly just text my 23 year old sister, or my 23 year old babysitter, or my cousin the fourth grade teacher who simply MUST duct tape his mouth shut during school hours because he's funny as fuck and equally inappropriate ... where's the thread ... there it is! So I was texting my pal who is almost 40 (you're welcome P!), has a serious job that often sees him on television, and he's British! I mention his son is so much more handsome than Robert Redford (the current 'he looks just like') and he texted me: OMG! blahblahblah and I totally made fun of him for texting OMG and it made me laugh out loud. The teens in his house have finally gained control of his brain. Bye, P, we'll miss you!


So, my little monkey is trying out 'Bratty Rat Girl' this week. We get snarky answers to almost everything, lip galore, defiance, and the occasional near tantrum. The fact that she won't throw herself down anywhere dirty really saves me on this one ... but I digress. I had the best ever idea!

We went to IKEA today [Bear will no doubt mention in the comments that I had us drive for an hour in the wrong direction so I repeat - who is the dumbass for letting me give directions? Huh? Huh?] and got cool storage things for her gear. All of it. But it would appear that everything isn't going to fit. So, I'm toying with the idea of:

A. curbing bad behavior swiftly and harshly by
B. throwing her stuff in the mostly empty dumpster in the backyard!

me: Rio, please pick up Candyland
rio: No. I don't want to!
me: You're finished playing with it, and it's all over the place. Please pick it up now.
rio:Wellll, you could pick it up! [by the by, this is what she says all day now... you could do it!]

Strict mommy takes Candyland and chucks it off the deck into the dumpster.

In no time at all everything she owns will fit right in the perfect drawers ... Yeah, tomorrow is going to be awesome!

please?! help a mother out!

Do you design blog templates? Do you want to scratch your eyes out looking at mine? And I tried to update but did something and now I don't have links?! Hellllllllllp!

poor me

I saw a new doctor yesterday. I do have fluid behind both eardrums. My patella isn't tracking. She said that keeping track of ocular migraines is important and I should really, really do so.

Today I am sick. Started last night. Sour stomach. Woke up in the middle of the night with false puke alarm. Today -- headache, aches, tired, earaches still ... and I asked Bear if there was any way he could stay home, or come home early.

Nope. As a matter of fact, he'll be staying late tonight.

My question is -- what is my sick policy? Who do I see about staying in bed? How do I request time off for made up events?

On a fun note, I'm going on a big girl sleepover at the end of the month. Next month, I'll be doing a trip to DC, maybe with the nugget, maybe without. The daily benefits of this job are pretty great. It's just the sick-leave that sucks.

It's times like this that really, really make me miss Vermont and Connecticut.

Poor me.

the networks are programming just for me!

I am a magna cum graduate. I love Shakespeare. I know where most of the candidates stand on most of the issues. Scratch that, I follow where they say they're standing from week to week. I read good books, I am an engaged citizen, I try not to swear in front of kids ... but I must confess again - my taste in music is pretty horrid. According to other people. Well, most other people. Okay, almost all other people.

And then, like a beacon in the darkness I saw this. A show where a lawyer might be a chosen prophet and he knows this because GEORGE FREAKING MICHAELS SINGS IT SO! Can it be better? Why yes, it can. GEORGE FREAKING MICHAELS is actually appearing as his own bad self!! Can it get even better? Again, yes! The guy playing the lawyer is Angelina Freakshow Jolie's brother! I'm a little shaky in anticipation.


I can hardly contain my excitement. Tragically, I'm completely serious.

deals with the devil

I 'won' the highly coveted Wii Guitar Hero on Ebay at the beginning of December. The guy was soooo nice, agreed to ship it right to my darling Sam in Vermont. It never arrived. And he didn't get his label through Paypal - so no free tracking. And neither of us got insurance - so bye bye Guitar Hero.

We've been going back and forth on it. I had to open a dispute ... long story short, he was responsible and today he refunded me before being made to. So nice! And I got a nice email, which is not the norm when you're fighting with a stranger. Anyway ...

I promised Rio she could watch 'one of her shows' while I did my morning round of calling all the local Best Buys, Circuit Citys, and Targets. Phone call number 2 YIELDED A GUITAR HERO! 3! FOR Wii!

So, I asked the girl if she would please, please, please hold it for me! She said:

"We're not supposed to, but I totally recognize your voice. It'll be here for you!"

Now I gotta hustle the kid and go get it!

it's my own fault. all of it. and i have no one to blame but ... karma.

The very first thing yesterday morning:

rio: Mommy. My ears hurt ...

me: [instantly awake and in a sweat with prickly fear of the first earache] Okay honey. Can you tell me where it hurts? Or how it hurts?

rio: [standing next to my bed holding a pilfered pack of Big Red from our last plane trip] Um, well, I could just have some gum to feel my ears better ...

The very first thing this morning:

rio: Mommy. Melanie [pre-school teacher] says that I can too wear dark wipstick to school. Dark wipstick is beautiful for my wips....

I have got to put every motherfucking thing I own on higher shelves.....

How do I suck? Let me count the ways ...

*I suck because not liking my birthday shouldn't mean I mentally block all birthdays.

*I suck because I can't even remember my husband's birthday, and I look at him every single day.

*I suck because I actually made everyone email me their birthdates, loaded them into some random birthday reminder generator, then abandon the site where I had all the wonderful info sent.

*I suck because when I forgot last year, I scribbled a note in my address book, and wrote the wrong date.

*I suck because I should remember to celebrate the birth of one of the most wonderful people presently dancing on the planet.

Happy Birthday, Mar. Without you I'd still be a smack-addicted hooker all Stockholm-syndromed over my pimp.


mousus interuptus

I was all set to snipe an ebay auction and my touchpad got all freaked out and would NOT click on the bid box. I swear I could hear things popping in my head! RRRRRRR!

Um, sniping isn't one of those things that effs with karma, is it?!

Gotta go whip myself ... or give Rio a bang-trim. Six of one, half dozen of another I say ...

uh oh

January sees Rio hit three and a half! Almost four now! And she's never had an earache.

I have one. And it effing hurts. Suggestions?! Besides booze, cuz I have that covered.


My husband came home from work last night and plopped down in the chair and promptly napped. Through dinner. Then he dragged himself up for about half an hour. Then we went to bed.

I had insomnia.

Today he's all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I want to hit him with a broom. I have sleep-envy.

John Edwards looks you straight in the eye

File this under: you learn something every day.

I've always wondered at the political commercials where the candidate is showed from this angle, then that angle, up, down, all around. I've always found the commercials a bit vertiginous but now I understand it.

John Edwards did a commercial with a head-on shot. Solid, looking straight at you, head-on shot. Only thing? He's got a googley eye stare going on. Freaky. Doesn't everyone see it?!

I need a job as a political advisor. Can you see it? [wavy dream sequence...]

Edwards camp. Roomful of honchos. Lots of Brooks Brothers shirtsleeves rolled up. Whiteboards, crumpled papers, lots of stuff on walls with big circles. Busy place ...

honcho 1: We need something totally out of the box.

honcho 2: Do you think we could get Obama to agree to a boxing match?

honcho 3: How about crossing out all the 'n's on Clinton's posters? Again?

h1: No, and no. Now that we have to claim commercials, I think we should shake up the status quo.

h3: Porn angle?

[everyone stares at h3, wondering again why he seems so familiar]

h1: I've got it! We'll shoot a commercial and have him look right into the camera!

[h2 - h47 all murmuring 'Brilliant! Inspired! Emmy material!']

[make-up, prep - don't blink and look sincere, $400 from petty cash for a haircut, and we're rolling!]

h1: Gather around and behold my brilliant moment!

[everyone watches intently. more protestations of the brilliance!]

me: Um, felllllas. Anyone else notice he looks, well, a little slow?

h3: I thought you were here to pour coffee.

h1: Jorge, for the 483 billionth time, she represents the common man!

h3: Shoot, I don't think she's a man!

me: Seriously though. He's doing such a great job reading that his eyes only move enough to be disconcerting.

h3: I think his eyes looks [sic] fine!

h1: Commoner, for the jillionth time it's ground breaking! Epic! Brilliant!

me: Maybe those commercials are done a certain way for a reason...

h3: Woman, you're a man of reason. Lissen to the men-folk and, ah, I'll have a coffee regular. Got any fritters? Or, what, how do you say that in Mexican...

me: You pay me to give you the impression of someone who is not blinded by payola. Not an insider. Not a moron. I'm telling you, he looks crazy! Ask any 'normal' person! Scary, low IQ, crazy ...

[wavy dream sequence ends]

So, where should I send my resume?

celebrity apprentice

Wowza. I have a new obsession. Celebrity Apprentice. I thought it was going to suck but I can't imagine how I'm going to tear myself away. That idiot Omarosa is back. I am still furious that she tanked Kwame. She's back with the biggest fake boobies ever. Huuuuge. Stupid large. ???

It's weird seeing celebrities duke it out, but I like it. Right this second I'm hoping and praying that Carol Alt slaps her silly!

Okay, gotta see who The Donald fires!


I don't usually make New Year resolutions. I find it hokey and fake; like Christmas. But I'm going to shake things up for myself and make a few. Off the cuff, unplanned, but I'll reach inside and think about what I'd like to change. Here it goes!

1. keep my distance from my mother. although the guilt pretty much steadily nibbles, it's not as bad as the toxic encounters. until she can really change the way she treats me and my family, she's just not allowed to continue to fuck with me.

2. write anything. a short story. a book. a how-to give yourself the best pedicure pamphlet. anything. and try to sell it. to someone besides Bear ...

3. by the time 2008 comes to a close i really have to commit to figuring out my next 'move'. i'm still stuck on it being law school. either unstick from that, or just effing go. any lawyers out there love what they do? loathe it? lemme know!

4. use a quarterly approach to exercise. the first quarter of this year i commit to being in my gym OR equivalent sweating experience at least 3 times a week. next quarter - 4 times a week. by summer, i will have some sort of physical exercise as part of my day monday through friday.

5. i have to fall out of love with beer and cheese. *lesigh* this sucks because i seriously think i love beer and cheese more than anyone with the possible exception of rosanne barr. if i can replace the beer/cheese passion with husband passion, we're all winners, right?!

6. i'm not saying, 'i'm tired' anymore. it's boring. everyone is tired. i'm not saying it anymore.

7. enjoy my time in this non-universe that is stay-at-home-mom. i bet it's fun with staff, but with no staff it's all about cooking, and cleaning, and errand-running, and playdoh, and painting, and not yelling, and feeling crazy ... i'm not recognition driven by any means, but it is mind numbing some days. and then i think about how quickly we'll come to the time when she's only going to need a 20 and the keys to the car. *sniff* enjoy this time. i'm so fortunate to have it.

So, on that note, I'm going to go make playdoh animals. Yesterday we painted rocks that she and Bear dug up under the snow. She's so easy to please, and she's a lot of good fun, and I think if I keep that in the forefront of my mind, the rest is easy. Easier.


fantasy new year resolutions

If there were no repercussions, so pretend I'm Paris Hilton or someone equally as privileged/fake/in talks with the devil for my eternal soul, these would be my resolutions. My real ones will be well intentioned, unattainable, posted tomorrow, and broken by Ground Hog Day*.

1. introduce Rio to White Russians. they have calcium and pretty much guarantee a nap every day.

2. never let one cupcake get past me. not one.

3. only wear really high heels every day. if that means i can't stand for long periods, so be it.

4. hack into Bear's 401 and invest in my fake business.

5. liquidate Rio's school fund and finally get the giant lips I secretly covet.

6. set-up a website where people can pay me to live green and minimize their carbon footprint but i'll take the money and really live like/with Britney Spears Federline Spears.

7. totally sign up for Kentwood foster care and jostle to the front of the line so i get Jamie Lynn's babe when it hits the system in the spring.

8. throw the dishes out the window into the yard after every meal.

9. eat McDonalds griddle cakes or whatever they're called ... the fake pancakes with fake eggs and fake sausage and the whole thing oozes fake syrup. it may not sound so great the way i say it, but Artie from the Stern Show described it in a way that made me want one and it's stuck in my brain still!

10. hmm, the last fantasy resolution....hmm, well, it would have to do with Keanu Reeves, the high heels and the fake syrup, but the end product hasn't come to me yet. gimme time. gimme time.

*Ground Hog Day is our anniversary. I swear. We don't give much thought to anything, if you want to know the truth :)