Posts Tagged ‘Family’

Okay, this is uncalled for. I mean really. This is something up with which I will not put. I have been wronged, and I am pissed as all get-out.

Just yesterday I went to the doctor for my periodic check on my thyroid, that little gland that has been known to misbehave on occasion (or, okay, my entire life). I wasn’t apprehensive or anything. My thyroid has become accustomed to walking sedately on its Armour-controlling leash, so I wasn’t expecting any health-related surprises. Plus I actually enjoy going to my doctor. She’s smart, she’s nice, she’s mellow. And she saved my life by knowing how to recognize hypothyroidism when she sees it and, you know, actually treating my illness. (The whole sordid, thyroid-run-amok story is here.) Bonus happy-inducing goodies: her office is painted in wonderfully soothing shades of pale green and lavender, she sells great high-quality supplements, and her staff members are all friendly and caring.

Best of all, being weighed is optional. Seriously. My doctor likes to check patients’ weight every once in a while, but not every time we set foot in her office. Bless her.

But I had been on a low-carb diet to control my body’s unpleasant relationship with gluten, lower my blood sugar, and lose some pounds, and I was curious as to how I was doing. So I said sure, I’ll be weighed.

Big mistake. Big. Like my ass, apparently. (more…)


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Supersisters posted “25 Things I Know Now as a Parent” and invited other parents to chime in with their own lists. Well all right. I think I’ve learned a few things in the past six years.

1. Sleep deprivation can make parents insane. Count to 10 to avoid going postal on parents who brag about their all-night-sleepers.

2. Sift through grandparents’ advice for the good stuff. Nod and smile and ignore the rest.

3. It’s okay to let kids watch more than one hour of TV on rainy days.

4. If you can, walk your kids to their classrooms on their first day of school every year. It means a lot to them. But when they get old enough to beg you not to, comply.

5. An occasional donut is not poison (for kids or for you). (more…)

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Okay, the time has come. I’ve gotta write about Lost, especially after Tuesday night’s episode, “Happily Ever After.” I suppose at this point I should put in a Spoiler Warning, but…dude. Come on. If you haven’t caught up by now, in this pivotal time of Only A Few Remaining Episodes Before The End, you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself. Suck it up.

So the reason I’m writing about Lost for the first time in all these years, even though I’ve been a diehard fan since the very first episode, is because I nearly drowned in tears watching “Happily Ever After”…and because, to be totally self-centered for a moment (yeah yeah when is this blog not, but hey, when did I ever promise it was going to be about establishing peace in the Middle East?), the big revelation from the episode is one of only two things that I have EVER guessed right about this mindbender of a show.

The first one was that the island was a “cork” stoppering up…something bad, as explained by Jacob in the recent episode “Ab Aeterno,” and the second one was from Tuesday night. Yay me. I guess I’m a late bloomer, finally figuring things out at the very end. Or I need stuff handed to me on a platter. Whatev’.

The revelation that was in this most recent, Desmond-centric episode (yum) was one I had figured out a while back, but I thought “Naaahhh—can’t be.” But it was. And it was this: (more…)

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Thud. Thud. Thud.

Usually I love waking in predawn darkness to the sound of rain. Most of the time, in this area, our rain comes in the form of drizzle, so on the occasion that it really, truly rains, I revel in the drumming sound of a steady shower. This morning, however, I found myself tensely focusing on another noise.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I looked around my son’s bedroom from my pretzel position in his car bed. He was nowhere to be found, of course; as per usual, he had made his way into “the big bed” in the middle of the night—this time I think he was on the move around 2:30-ish—and proceeded to crowd me right off the queen-size mattress. And, as per usual, instead of being all tough and parental and kicking his 5-year-old butt back to his bedroom, I took the (admittedly well-traveled) path of least resistance—the one that leads up the hall to his unoccupied bed.

Good thing I did retreat instead of standing my ground this time, though; if I hadn’t slept in his room, I wouldn’t have heard that persistent noise, which sounded alarmingly like…


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Oh, the shame of it. I think I’m a bad mother.

My son, who’s 5, is obsessed with cars and his X-Box 360, so of course driving games are his all-time favorite form of entertainment. One of them is Burnout Paradise (which, gods help us, has unfortunately graced our household with its theme song, Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Paradise City,” WAY too many times). It includes several cars that adults can easily recognize as knockoffs of famous vehicles from movies and television shows: Kitt from KnightRider, the General Lee from Dukes of Hazzard, etc. It’s amusing.

One of them is a hovercar that’s an homage to the DeLorean time machine from Back to the Future. I’m awfully fond of Back to the Future (and yeah Huey Lewis too—wanna make something of it?), and I realized that my son might enjoy watching the movie. Heck, I thought, I would enjoy watching the movie—it had been quite a while since I’d seen it.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t available on iTunes and wasn’t coming up anywhere on the TiVo schedule, so I figured we could pony up the money to get a copy. I was sure that if we owned it, the kidlet would watch it enough times to justify the purchase.

So we picked up the DVD and popped it in late Friday afternoon. (more…)

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Oh goodness gracious, I actually wrote it. In the headline even. I must be insane. Defend Jar Jar Binks of Star Wars: Episode I—The Phantom Menace, nearly inarguably the most hated film character in the past 10 years…perhaps in the entire history of moviemaking? In public?!

But I am here to set the record straight for the poor schlub. As an ardent Star Wars fan, I feel it’s my duty. I have recently seen the light and feel compelled to clear poor Jar Jar’s name.


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Penelope Pitstop

Penelope Pitstop

This morning, my mother fired the latest volley in her ongoing “you need a new car” campaign. I don’t remember what she said; I wasn’t really listening. That’s mainly because I’ve heard it all before; her campaign has been going on for quite some time.

Let me back up a bit. In June 2000, I did the unthinkable. I bought a new car. It wasn’t economical; it wasn’t used; it wasn’t a practical, modest sedan. I bought my first—and so far only—new car: a brand new, fresh-from-the-factory, made-just-for-me Jeep Wrangler. Silver grey and black, automatic (I never did learn to drive manual), CD player (quite a big deal nine years ago), both hard AND soft top (I thought the soft top wouldn’t hold up to our frigid winter temps—I was wrong and if I had the chance to do it again, I’d skip the hard top).

When I fired it up for the first time, I saw that it had 2 miles on the odometer. TWO. I could have spontaneously combusted, I was so ecstatic.

Why? Let me back up a bit more. My uncle (my mother’s brother) was a car guy. He first sold Pontiacs after he came home from World War II, and then, in the mid-1950s, he opened his own dealership: Oldsmobiles. Hey, they were cool then.


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