Don't mess with snow. . . .

ATTENTION PEOPLE WHO COMMENT ON SOCIAL MEDIA ABOUT NEWS/POLITICS:

Effective immediately, I am taking back the word "snowflake."  I don't know who decided that was a clever insult to lob at liberals, millennials, Donald Trump and basically anyone they don't agree with.   But here's a tip for you, it is not clever.

You think someone is over-sensitive and want to let them know.  Instead of calling them a "snowflake," why not just say nothing?  You don't look smart--you look like a middle schooler overusing whatever the "popular" word of the day/month/year is (see OMG, totally, seriously, Bye Felicia, sorry not sorry, bae). 

Snowflakes are beautiful and unique.  And truth be told, I miss seeing them.   We've got 10 snow days in the bank with no indication we will spend any of them.   

 

So with that in mind, leave snow and its flakes alone. And stop commenting on things you read on the internet while you're at it. 

Stepping off my snow box soapbox.

I hate Ticketmaster

Really, the title of this blog is basically self-explanatory and everyone who reads it has already nodded their head in agreement.

As if the exorbitant fees they tack on to each ticket weren't enough, let me just settle in to the main problem of actually buying tickets.  

Or the inability to buy tickets.  

Let's say you are attempting to buy tickets to Dolly Parton, which coincidentally, I was trying to do this morning.   You aim for the presale, but can't get tickets.   It's a limited amount, so hopefully you'll do better in the regular sale.   You have 4 different people logged on to buy tickets.   Not all in the same state, just in case there is a regional advantage.  At 10 am, when you try to get tickets, there are none to be bought.   Knowing there is an ebb-and-flow you as people try for better seats, you stay on for an hour.  

Mom of the Year judges take note . . .my kids were watching TV.

Even an hour later, Ticketmaster says there are still "not many remaining," but yet I cannot buy one, let alone two.  The Ryman website has called it a sell-out by 10:15. Not sure why Ticketmaster hadn't gotten the memo.  Oh wait, I just looked on again and there is one spot a for a wheelchair left in section 5.

Meanwhile, while I wasn't able to get seats, three "ticket broker" sites I checked had oodles of options for me.   None priced at less than 2 1/2 times face value.  Since this was an Internet-only concert ticket sale (so nobody bought them from a Ticketmaster window), this is not a case of an individual guy buying up tickets to make a buck, but a company who somehow was able to get 50+ tickets while individuals can't get one or two.

Make note, this same scenario played out the same way last Saturday when we tried to get tickets for the first show.  

Yet Ticketmaster insists the system is fair.  

As a side note, our neighbor bought tickets from a scalper on the street for a Cubs game outside of Wrigley.   When he learned Warren was from Nashville he mentioned that his daughter was attending Vanderbilt.  Yes, the scalping business is clearly good.  And if he's doing that well, just imagine how much the ticket broker websites are making.

"I will always love you," Dolly . . . but won't be seeing you this time. 

Back off, Weather Channel!

I would like to go on record as saying I'm tired of the cold weather.  Furthermore, I'm tired of hearing about nothing but cold weather on the news.   Having said that, I find myself increasingly perturbed that the Weather Channel deems it necessary to name our winter storms.

I read an article with their reasoning for doing so online today at
http://www.weather.com/news/weather-winter/why-we-name-winter-storms-20121001
This article was actually published last year, when the Weather Channel first tried their hand at making use of  baby name books during the months of December, January and February.   Keep in mind, hurricanes and the like are named by the World Meteorological Organization.  Somehow that seems more legit than anything involving Jim Cantore and Sam Champion, no?

They suggest that by giving the storms names it somehow "raises awareness."   Driving in white out conditions, having your pipes freeze and hearing that people in your community are dying due to exposure in dangerously cold conditions just isn't enough.  Good grief, even ESPN is reporting on the weather situation.   They are able to talk at length about how snow and bitter cold temperatures will affect this weekend's Super Bowl.  Yet not once have they mentioned that the cause of these concerns is a storm named Janus (or whatever!).  I think people are pretty aware regardless, don't you?  Just ask any mom of a school age kid who is worrying about school going until July given the recent string of "snow days." 

The Weather Channel also suggests that by giving the storm a name it "takes on a personality all its own."    I don't mind winter storms being wallflowers, but apparently a storm with "personality" is better. 

And finally, being in the digital age there is obviously a social media angle.   Giving a storm a name makes it much easier to reference on Facebook and Twitter.   Yes, you can share with the world your thoughts on the weather, but if you're limited to 140 characters, how much information are you really sharing? 

Nobody asked me, but as long as they are playing the social media card, I've a got a few suggestions for the folks at the Weather Channel:   #sticktoforecastingtheweather,  #itscoldoutenoughsaid  #ilikemystormsnameless

The last minute churtle

I was up at school yesterday working on a bulletin board when another mom stopped by and we started talking about the upcoming 3rd grade musical.

"What are you doing for Matthew's costume?" she asked.

Silence.

Followed by panic.

It seems that my dear son was supposed to have brought home a note from the music teacher about what they are supposed to wear for the musical.   Matthew is in two songs.  One as chicken.  And one as a turtle.

So, he's a churtle.

And it seems it's some kind of an animal-theme show.  But that's as much as I know. 

It's obvious I don't know anything about the costumes.

Did I mention the show is in 2 days?

It's also worth mentioning that Halloween was a week ago and I suspect I could have bought some of churtle costume.   Or better yet, bought it 5 days ago on the day-after-Halloween sale.

As you might guess, I shared these facts and my displeasure with the situation with my son.

And after he went to bed, I reiterated it to my husband.   More than once.

But today is a new day and we have solutions in the works.

As long as the aftermath of hurricane Sandy doesn't delay it, the power of Amazon Prime will deliver a funny looking chicken hat to my door in time for the show.  If not, I've found a tutorial for a chicken crown/hat online.   I don't have high hopes for it staying on his head, but I can make it in a pinch.

As for the turtle,  I considered using everything from a spray painted disc-style sled to an aluminum roasting pan for the shell.   In the end, I decided to keep it simple.   Here's what 2 pieces of poster board, some markers, ribbon and tie-dye felt will get you. 



There is a good chance my finger was blocking the flash here.



The shape of this isn't quite right, but I'm trying to keep myself from redoing it.  

I must say, asking the kids to dress up with no other guidelines is a pretty risky move by the music teacher.   I heard from another mom this morning that said if the kids weren't in costume they were encouraged to wear Kenrose T-shirts.   Ummmm....that's going to look weird.  But so is 15 different interpretations of a turtle costume.

But in the end, it probably doesn't matter. The shows are always cute and the kids do a great job.

Even the churtles.

 

stolen joy and snowcones

I'm not going to lie, the kitchen project has STOLEN MY JOY.

We're behind schedule (which incidentally, no one besides me is surprised by), over-budget and I'm fast losing my patience for having no place to cook, the contents of my kitchen stashed in 5 different places and  people constantly in the house.   Theoretically, I shouldn't complain about that last one because while I was irritated to find there would be people here both today and tomorrow, I know it's a critical piece of the puzzle in getting this job done.  

Rant completed.

Despite the chaos at home and the fact that both kids are on antibiotics for ear and sinus infections, there are a few good things to report.

Thursday night, we went over to see the Vanderbilt season opener.  We lost to South Carolina, but they played quite well and it was exciting to see a full stadium of fans, even when it started to rain (which it did several times).  The field has been upgraded and they updated the scoreboard, which before looked like it could have been at a high school (albeit a really nice high school). 

On Friday, they finished up the downstairs powder room.  There was a problem with the new vanity (of course), which required me to make a second trip to Home Depot that morning, but in the end, the bathroom looks so much nicer, I can't really complain.  They did some touch up painting today, so I can't get the towel rack and t.p. thingy up yet, but at some point I will and I'll post some pictures.

Aren't you lucky?

B is on call this weekend, so while he went to the hospital this morning, the kids and I went to the pediatrician, Krispy Kreme and the library.   It was the trifecta of treatment for mind (library), body (doctor) and spirit (donuts, of course!).   

This afternoon met up with Bassam  at the Nashville Street Food Awards at Centennial Park  for lunch.  The park was filled with food trucks, which have become quite the phenomenon over the past couple years.  After we had lunch, it was time to find a food truck that we could be part of the Nashville Summer Ice Cream Tour. There were many choices, but the kids and I decided on Retro-Sno, which is kind of like snowcones, but the ice is soft like shaved ice.   We had been trying to hook up with Retro-Sno the last couple weeks before school started, but their locations/schedule never meshed with ours.  Glad we got to try it because it was sooooo good. 

Who knows what the rest of the weekend will hold, except that the painters who are working on my cabinets right now will certainly be part of it. 

Wheeeeee.

Lights, camera, fun?

Although I think we have turned the corner on our kitchen project, it's fair to say, I've hit the wall.

Hard.

I cannot stand the constant state of discombobulation that defines my house, nevermind the constant layer of dust, which only seems to disappear for 20 minutes or so after I attack it with the Swiffer and then returns with a vengeance.

A neighbor told me it would be "so much fun to design my own kitchen!"   Really?  I keep waiting for the fun to start.    Where is it?

I got close to fun when I went to the lighting gallery on Friday with our designer to pick out fixtures for our hallway and dining room.  I wandered around snapping pictures of ridiculous things like this ginormous black crystal chandelier and sending it to Bassam with a note that said, "Do you like this one for the hall?"

It was a bargain, too.  It was on clearance, marked down from  $29,000 to $13,000.

I was also taken by this crystal disco-ball.

Yours for the low, low price of $6,500. 

But the fun ended when I had to hunker down and look at fixtures a little more seriously.  Who knew there were that many choices?   And there were many disappointments.  I'd find one that had potential only to find it was out of my price range.     After countless laps around the store and flipping through numerous catalogs,  I was pleased to find ones that I liked (and for a muuuuuuuch lower price than the black chandy and crytal disco ball!).  And while I left with the hallway fixture in the back of my van, the dining room one won't be in until mid-October.  It hardly seemed like a deal breaker since our new dining table won't be in until the end of October.

Here's hoping the next task will be more fun.

Seems unlikely since I will be choosing drawer and cabinet pulls.

What I said versus What I SHOULD have said

My son routinely peppers his conversation with lots extra words such as like, actually, I think, maybe, etc.   

"Be concise!"  Bassam always tells him.

But sometimes less is not more.   Take for example what happened when I was checking out at Publix today.

The bagger asks me, "Would you like your milk in a bag?"

I generally don't care, but I notice there is an extra reusable grocery bag that she hasn't used yet.

What I said was, "Yes."

What I should have said was, "Yes, but not on top of my bananas."

I'm not going to lie, after unloading my bags at home, I called back to the store.   You can call me an obsessive ex-grocery employee sometimes, but nowhere is this acceptable.

Tor-night-dos!

Since we have been enjoying fabulously non-January like weather (60 degrees today--whoo hoo!), I hate to complain, BUT . . . .

Two of the last three nights we have been awoken by tornado sirens at 1:00 IN THE MORNING.  Yes, 1:00 am.    Not only is this not the time of year we typically get tornadoes, it is not the time of day we typically get tornadoes.   For an hour or two, we are serenaded by the on-and-off sirens, as well as the jump-out-of-your-skin alarm of our weather radio. 

It's bad enough when Momma gets cranky due to lack of sleep, but cranky kids throw everything out of whack.

Consider yourself warned, Mother Nature!

Smelly end to the week . . .

Where have I been the last couple days?   

Well, M &G  headed back to school on Thursday.  Even I, who loves Christmas break, spring break and summer vacation as much as my kids, was glad for it to be over.   The kids needed to be back in their routine and so did I.  

As it happened Gracie had her Daisy Scout meeting on Thursday after school.   Being the super-mom that I am, I waited until Thursday afternoon to prepare for my activities in the meeting.   To make it even more exciting, it was 3:00 pm before I got around to putting her newly acquired patches on her smock.   Seriously, I've only had 3 weeks to do it.   No need to rush these things.  

I have a girl from the neighborhood come over on Daisy meeting days to hang out with Matthew until I get home at 4:45.   When I pulled up to the house I was surprised to see that all the windows were completely open in the front of the house.   

All of them . . . wide open. 

Granted, we have been enjoying temperatures above 60 the last couple days, but I hadn't opened but a couple windows.   When I got out of my car in I immediately knew why.  I was stung with an awful and unmistakable smell. 

Burned popcorn.  

I don't know how long the popcorn was in the microwave, but it was clearly not done on the automatic popcorn stetting.     The barely recognizable pieces of popcorn were black and stuck together and that horrible smell hung throughout the house. 

Gag.

And now, my friends, you know how I spent Thursday night and much of Friday;  cleaning and re-cleaning the microwave, setting out bowls of vinegar and coffee to absorb the smell, keeping a simmering pot of water with cinnamon and oranges on the stove, streaming the microwave with lemon juice and then vinegar and then coffee, airing out the house, running the fans, and wondering if I will truly be rid of the stench. 

While I know it's much better.   Matthew's pal came in a little while ago and I heard him say, "What's that smell?"
 
The fight continues . . . .

Mobile blogging

I do not recommend mobile blogging or at least blogging via iPhone. But alas, our Internet is out. I typed about half of this on my iPhone before sneaking over to the library while Matthew was at tennis lessons to finish.

This morning after the kids left for school I discovered we had no phone or Internet, although I had used the Internet around 4:00 am when I was inexplicably awake 30 minutes prior to my alarm to get up for boot camp.  Since I was sitting around waiting for the furnace guy, I had time to make two unsuccessful calls  to AT&T where I got hung up on by an automated service because "their records indicate our service is with another carrier."

I beg your pardon? I'm fairly certain I write you a check EVERY STINKIN' MONTH that would say otherwise.

Okay, I don't really write a check, but I do press "pay" on my online banking.

Bassam had slightly better luck and actually spoke with a person. That is, until they said they wouldn't be able to make a service call until Tuesday, "no later than 8 pm."

Yeah . . . . riiiiiight.

An hour later, Bassam had made a call to Comcast and 2 more calls to AT&T. Switching to Comcast phone/Internet only (we have Dish and are still under contract) would be prohibitively expensive.

AT&T had us. Ugh. Tuesday.

But then all of the sudden, the phone started working. Hallelujah! Sadly, the Internet wasn't as lucky. The modem was flashing angrily and none of our known fixes did anything.

2 more calls to AT&T by my sweet husband and they determined that the modem was blown. Gee I wonder how that happened? Unfortunately, it was no longer under warranty, but for $80 they would be happy to send us a new one.

Oh how I wish I had been in the room when Bassam had this conversation.

He reminded them how until an unexplained break in our service caused by their lines, our modem was just fine. The lady he spoke to was nice, but unhelpful. On to the supervisor. Less nice and equally unhelpful. She apparently interrupted Bassam twice at which point he ended the conversation.

When he called back later to speak to someone in billing, he was told that they couldn't speak to him because he "wasn't authorized" (my name is on the account), regardless of the fact that he had had 6 separate calls to AT&T that day and not once had anyone refused to speak to him.   Side note: That is the joy of having a husband with an unusual name because when I call somewhere that has his name on the account, I just claim to be Bassam. Who's any wiser?

Seriously, this story loses something when it's not being told by my ultra-mild-mannered husband. He never gets mad, and by now he is steaming. So, I guess he asked to be transferred to someone in account cancellations at which point she said, "I can transfer you, but they won't speak to you."

*rolling on floor laughing*

Another call to Comcast and he has worked out an acceptable deal. They are coming out this weekend to hook up our Internet service and phone service.

Now I need to authorize my husband at AT&T so he can enjoy making the cancellation call.

Teeth and wreaths . . . . .

Not one to waste a perfectly good sick day, I took Gracie to the dentist today.  She was scheduled to go later in the week, but since we were going to be home, I called the dentist and told them if they had any cancellations today to call me. Lucky for me, they did. 

Gracie's eye was better today.  Still very ugly (especially early), but the double vision seemed to subside as the day went on.  She actually took a nap this afternoon . . . yes, you read that right . . . she TOOK A NAP, which said to me she's not completely back to normal, but she is on her way.  She sported shades at the dentist to protect her eyes from the light and managed to score TWO prizes from Dr. Buzz because they thought she was such a trooper.  And having no cavities probably didn't hurt either.

Afterwards, we stopped at JoAnn's to pick up some supplies for Daisy Scouts and I decided to look for some things to decorate my grapevine wreath on the front door for the end of the fall.  The Halloween decorations had been down since November 1, but the house looks decidedly less festive, despite keeping up all the non-jack-o-lantern pumpkin stuff.

Well, in case you were wondering, you can no longer buy fall stuff, even though it is November 8th.   I was directed to JoAnn's clearance aisle, where there were only a few sad looking Halloween decs alongside a myriad of other crafting castoffs that they weren't able to sell.

Where are the leaves?  The gourds?   Are you kidding me?!?

Thankfully, I had slightly better luck at Michaels where I found a single (albeit small) rack of fall decor (flowers, leaf garland and whatnot) marked down 80%.   That last part is actually great luck . . . and I'm pretty happy with my wreath given the limited selection.  Having said that, it seems a little odd (and incredibly irritating) to me that when smack dab in the middle of fall, you can only buy Christmas stuff.

5 bucks . . .

I just spent the last 2 hours chasing around $5 in our checking account.   $5!!!  The bank says we have $5 more than I think we do.  I only have 2 weeks of transactions to consider--yet after three times checking and double checking, I CAN'T FIND THE STINKIN' FIVE DOLLARS!

I'm exhausted, but completely agitated.   I know I should look again in the morning with "fresh eyes," but really, why spoil a perfectly good Saturday?

Update:   At 11:45 pm I found the $5!

My brain hurts

I'm said it before (but not here) and I'll say it again . . . . my least two favorite phrases are:

"I don't know."

and

"I forgot."


Happy Birthday to my sister-in-law, Lina!   And Happy day-after-your-Birthday, Dana! Love you both!

Keys please!

Almost 2 weeks ago, my set of van keys disappeared.  Poof.   Not a trace.   We had another set, so no big deal, although they usually show up within a day or two.  But these failed to reappear.  Bassam had used them last, but I hadn't any luck finding them in any of his "usual" places (i.e. his pants or coat pockets).

To add insult to injury, late last week I picked up the Clark's hidden house key for them.  I shoved it in my jeans pocket and didn't give it another thought.   That is, until Beth asked me to re-hide it for the appraiser that was coming this past  Monday.  I couldn't find it anywhere.  I wish I was exaggerating when I told you that I TORE UP THE HOUSE looking for it.  We already had a key to their house, so I hid that one in the meantime and kept looking.  Why didn't I put it directly into the key stash when I got home (which by the way, has several unidentified keys!)?    I was furious with myself.  Bill and Beth told me not to fret, but I couldn't help it.  I KNEW it made it home . . . .so where was it?

Well, yesterday the first mystery was solved while I was putting away Bassam's shoes.  There were my car keys --on the floor of his closet nestled in a discarded dry cleaning bag.    Really?   And then very early this morning, as I was cursing the fact that I had awoken at 4 am for no good reason, I spotted the lone Clark key on the rug in front of Bassam's sink--right up next to the cabinet.  There is no logical explanation for how it get there.

So I guess we'll blame the kids.

Or the dog.

I got hit!

I'm pretty sure I got whacked with the grumpy stick today.

Seriously.

Maybe it happened tonight, because most of the day, although crazy busy, I wasn't highly irritated with everyone who crossed my path or sent me an email. Gracie had her school Halloween parade. So cute seeing all the little fries in their costumes. And Gracie somehow wound up the leader of the whole thing. I wish I had video of her strutting down the sidewalk in those red boots. And yes, strutting is absolutely the right word to describe what she did.

Then, I spent the rest of the afternoon working book fair. Exhausting, but everything went smoothly.

Tonight, however, isn't so smooth. I have been planted in front of the computer for the last 3 hours, and sadly, it's not doing anything fun like catching up on email or Facebook.

Some months, the church newsletter is the death of me. This is one of those months.

I'm also feeling some grumpies towards Matthew's teacher. Except instead of emoting over what's really important, I found myself ranting over the fact that some child was able to write all over M's clothes (a new shirt with dry erase marker, no less) on school picture day a few weeks ago. No one noticed. All children were supposedly given the once over before going to pictures. I can see how those 6 big swipes of marker would get passed you. Then when I inquired about it, I was assured it had happened post-picture, although Matthew insisted it was before.

And really, haven't we learned yet that Matthew rarely, if ever, gets these things wrong? His memory is a steel trap.

Have you guessed that the photo proofs came home today? And despite the fact the yearbook picture is a 2x2 inch square, little man is all upset. Why? Because he lives for the yearbook. He loves the yearbook. He took it on vacation to Chicago last summer. Other kids read fiction. Mine memorizes the yearbook. And it's kinda cute . . . you know, when it doesn't come off stalker-ish.

Newsletter still not done, but I need to go to bed.

Pee-ewww!

Pulled out my autumn/Halloween decorations today from our crawlspace and was dismayed/upset/irritated to discover that a couple of the boxes (all Rubbermaid-type containers) had a decidedly musty smell to them.

Okay, I wasn't dismayed/upset/irritated that the BOXES had smell to them, rather the contents.

And the fact that there are also 6 or 7 boxes of Christmas stuff also in there didn't exactly lighten the mood.

Both cars are currently parked outside and the garage floor is covered with Halloween decorations and whatnot that I spent the afternoon cleaning, spraying with vinegar, and allowing to be drenched in sunshine (door open, obviously) -- because you know it was 95 degrees AGAIN today.

We did get some water in our crawl space during the flood in May, but Basssam had moved all the boxes so they were out of harm's way. And so far, I haven't seen any signs of mildew, just that icky smell.

Why did some boxes get a funk, but not others? When it's time to repack, I'm happy to move all items up to the attic. Although quite frankly, the attic freaks me out just about as much as the crawlspace. I always fear spotting a bat in the rafters or some other kind of critter. Eww!

You know what I need? A holiday decorating room! Candy Spelling has her infamous gift wrapping room (although I hear her pad is on the market!). . . . I need a holiday decorating room. Brilliant!

Anyone seen my keys?

Last night we dropped my car off at the Honda dealership for a recall repair as well as new brake pads. They called us around 2:00 and said the car was ready. Bassam and I drop the kids off at the neighbors and then head over to get it. I jumped out and went in to pay the bill and wait for them to pull my car around.

And wait.

And wait.

And then Honda Service Dude comes inside and asks me "Are these your keys." Remote key fob and Honda key . . . ummmm . . . I guess (I had removed everything else).

What's the problem?

Well, despite having a numbered tag on they keys that that matches the tag hanging in the car, this key does NOT open my car. They remote does not open my car. Then he looks at me rather apologetically and says, "And the car is locked."

Really, Einstein? Thanks. Because THAT'S the real problem here. If the door was left unlocked everything would be okay, right? I'm guessing if the key doesn't fit the door it's not going to turn on the engine either.

So Honda Service Dude goes in and gets Honda Customer Service Guy. He also tries to open the car. No luck. In the meantime, Honda Service Dude proceeds to walk through the service pick-up lot trying to open up every Odyssey in the lot with "my" remote. This is mildly entertaining, I must admit. He has no luck.

"Are you sure you dropped off the right keys?" Honda Customer Service Guy asks me.

Deep breath.

I politely but firmly explain to him that I dropped off the car last night. I turned off the car, locked it, put the keys in the envelope and dropped it in the door. Since then, I figured they had moved the car AT LEAST three times in the course of the day. Clearly the keys worked because my car was no longer sitting smack in front of the service door where I had left it the night before.

By this point, it is 3:10. We have been there for over 30 minutes. They are completely mystified by what has happened. I am completely annoyed because I now have less than an hour to get home and get myself and Gracie dressed for her recital and head to TPAC. I leave Bassam to deal with the car fiasco, grab Gracie from the neighbor's house and we race around like crazy to get ourselves costumed up and our bag packed for the evening.

90 minutes after the "pick up the car process" began, Bassam finally left with a new key and one new remote. Of course, we still need to go back and get our second remote reprogrammed and another key. They apologized and told Bassam that this "had never happened before," but quite frankly, that hardly makes a difference since it did happen today. To us. I can't fathom how the car keys got mixed up based on how they say they tag them. And if they still managed to swap them . . . who has ours? They are clearly not interchangeable. How did THEY get home?

Safe to say, I am not overly pleased with the Honda dealer right now. I haven't driven the van myself, but it better be braking good.

And by the way, Gracie DID AMAZING in the recital tonight! :)