I’m So Looking Forward to November 5th

I resisted writing this here, as I didn’t really want my very first post after a month of silence to be a rant. However, it’s my blog, dammit, so I’m going to do it anyway. Warning: no humor here!

This started as a comment on a friend’s blog. Don’t ever let it be said that I’m not famous for repeating myself (over and over.)

Last week, I received an email from one of my best friends from college. It was a copied and pasted, forwarded political rant, based on — oh, how shall I put this — internet-rumor-hate-mongering-xenophobic bullshit, designed to prey upon people’s most basic fears.

My issue with my friend is not about her choice of candidate. This kind of crap does not discriminate by party. Everyone gets a vote, and I am always curious to hear and understand opinions and points of view, particularly if they differ from my own. I get frustrated when people fall prey to and base their opinions on either party’s campaign commercials or carefully-scripted speeches, without bothering to dig into the issues and track records of the candidates. Forwarded emails annoy me anyway, and it’s pretty easy to tell when one is biased and distorted (um, all of them.) It shocks me when someone assumes that just because it’s written down somewhere, it must be accurate, and then it upsets me further when they don’t bother to gather information from multiple sources to check on the authenticity of what they’ve read. This isn’t hard to do, and often takes only a minute or two, given the speed and depth of information available online. Of course, a lot of that “information” is false, but c’mon, it’s easy to check a few reputable sources from all sides of the fence, then separate the curd from the whey.

I wrote back to my friend, expressing my frustration about forwarded emails. She didn’t seem to get that I wasn’t bashing her political leanings, but instead was saying that I can’t stand it when people forward internet-rumor, anger-driven drivel, as if it is fact, without even bothering to check on the specifics. In my opinion, it’s the height of laziness. It only compounds the problem.

Have an opinion, and vote with your conscience. But make an effort to learn the facts and base your vote on that knowledge, instead of relying on one-sided campaign commercials and e-mailed, fear-driven propaganda.

Is it over yet??

Why I Love Hannah’s 4th Grade Teacher

I knew I liked Hannah’s teacher when she came home singing the following song:

“Brown Squirrel”
(First and second verse, as taught to Hannah and her classmates:)

Brown squirrel, brown squirrel,
Shake your bushy tail
Brown squirrel, brown squirrel,
Shake your bushy tail

Crinkle up your little nose
Put a nut between your toes
Brown squirrel, brown squirrel,
Shake your bushy tail

Cute, right?

And now, original verses three and four, as taught to nineteen 4th graders:

(I swear I am not making this up.)

“Dead Squirrel”

Dead squirrel, dead squirrel
Touched the power line
Dead squirrel, dead squirrel
Touched the power line

Why he did it, no one knows,
Barbecued his little toes.
Dead squirrel, dead squirrel
Touched the power line

I think we’re going to have an excellent school year.

Okay, So Let’s Just Pretend That Summer-Length Musical Interlude Never Happened

I can’t stand the idea that August 2008 could go by completely and be left off of my Archives list over there ==>, so we’re just not going to let that happen, mm-kay?

The kids go back to school in exactly one day, 11 hours, and 34 minutes (WOOOOOO HOOOOOOOO!!!) so I’ll try to get myself back into a groove and report back to blog-duty. I hope some of you will be kind enough to forgive me and pretend my long radio silence was all just a scary dream.

That’s working for me, so let’s just go with it, shall we?

KDF’s Moving Guide

Saturday, April 20th – Wednesday, the 23th: Pick up boxes at moving company, pack, swear, bruise self, pack more, clean things, make arrangements for three (count ‘em, three) moving day all-day playdates, make liberal use of garbage dump and Goodwill bins, throw broken toys away, pack, swear more, pack, lose ability to speak, pack more.

Thursday, April 24th: Totally panic about a) lack of readiness for movers arrival (April 25th), and b) amount of stuff packed to go to hotel (= too much stuff.) Transport cats and children to hotel; check in. Unpack and organize; repack a lot of it.

Friday, April 25th: Distribute children to friends’ houses, all except for Abby, whose friend spent the previous evening puking. Return to house at 7:30 AM to meet movers. Pack, clean, freak out excessively. Praise Abby for dealing so well with 10 hours of total boredom. Collect children. Return to hotel for 9:30 PM collapse.

Saturday, April 26th: Return to house for final cleanup. Encourage kids to play in the yard. Assume that Abby’s whining and complaining is an emotional reaction to moving. Repeatedly point out that lying down in the parked, hot car might make her feel worse rather than better. Head out to Hannah’s soccer game, in search of normalcy. Be thankful that Abby doesn’t barf until after she exits the car. Yep. Right on the sidewalk.

Walk down the street to local grocer to obtain water, tissues, and plastic bags.

Proceed on foot to Hannah’s game.

Park self and green-faced daughter in adjacent baseball field, far away from all other children. Try not to laugh as Hannah screams, “FEEL BETTER, ABBY!!!” for all to hear. Cycle through three different grassy locations with puking child, bottle of rinse water, and rapidly filling plastic bag full of barfy tissues. Enjoy field nap in the sun with Abby once the barfing subsides.

Proceed to hotel and enjoy three more vomit explosions.

Nervously consult WebMD to check the “when to seek medical advice” guidelines regarding dehydration.

Sunday, April 27th: Spend the day rejoicing over the fact that the stomach storm subsided just as I was figuring out how far we were from the nearest ER.

End the day watching in horror as Hannah begins puking.

Seriously appreciate the part of hotel life that includes daily housekeeping.

Updates Coming Soon…

All stuff in storage, kids adjusting, Sam at camp with his class for a week (departure day was the same day as closing) spring has sprung, finally…

Oh, Well NOW I Get It

Sam: Mom, don’t you think violence is funny?

Me: No, Sam not at all. In fact, it really upsets me that you think that.

Sam: Mom, girls like dolls. Boys like action figures. Girls like gentleness. Boys like violence. That’s why we have different bathrooms.

Why I Have Posted Only Seven Times In the Past Seven Weeks (aside from the fact that I’m still afraid of the new WordPress “write page” format)

Yes, the spring activities have run me ragged, and the kids have been sick, and I keep falling asleep on my living room floor at 9 PM, but mainly I’ve been absent because we’re moving.

That’s right. Packing up, moving out, arranging for utility shut offs, address changes and the usual assortment of move-related activities, in addition to the facts that:

1) trying to sell a house in this real estate market is scary if not downright stupid
2) we’ll be living in a hotel for a while, and
3) oh, there’s no three.

But those are all the items that I have not written about yet and likely won’t get back to, so let’s just move on shall we?

Please bear with me while I try to pack up the house without boxing up any kids or cats. We’ll be moving it all to a secret and undisclosed location (please take note of my safety sense, my children, namely Abby) since this is, afterall, the internets.

At least here, I won’t have to change my address.

Meat Update

It’s trash day, and I just cleaned out my freezer, because for the first time in five years I remembered that I’ve been meaning to do that and I remembered it on trash day.

I found some chicken breasts that expired in 2004.

This begs a question, which you can answer by clicking here:

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What? It was frozen!

This has been your meat update.

Have You Ever Had One of Those Dreams Where You Wake Up, and You Know for Certain That You’re Home, Except for the Fact that While You Were Sleeping, Someone Changed All the Paint Colors and Rearranged the Furniture?

So, I go AWOL for a while, and I return to find that WordPress has launched a whole new format on the “Write” page. Am I being punished?

I know that it all looks the same out there to you readers, and I’m probably breaking some sort of unwritten bloggers’ rule by even bringing this up, but from in here? Downright trippy.

No really, it’s fine, and I’m sure that in some way it’s even better than it used to be, but, well, some of us have issues with change, and I suppose I’m just really, in some very roundabout way, asking for sympathy, or a hug, or maybe a red lollipop.

And holy cow, this is my 200th post.

Happy Birthday to the ‘Rents

While I was growing up, I thought that parents were required to share birthdays. That for any given person, spousal choice was limited to whomever was born on that same day. This is because my mom and dad share a birthday, so I just assumed it was a rule.

Of course, I was also shocked — I mean, SHOCKED — to realize that Mom and Dad don’t know everything, that Santa, The Birthday Elf and The Easter Bunny are more “imaginary friend” than “guy who breaks into the house and leaves presents,” and that chocolate doesn’t grow on trees. Dammit.

Happy Birthday, Mom and Dad! Here’s to life celebrations and many, many more.