Procrastinators: Leaders of Tomorrow!

This morning I called to get Rory signed up for preschool.  I want him to go to the same one that Kamryn went to because the location is perfect and I know Kamryn really enjoyed her time there.  Not to mention, it cuts out me having to research any other preschools in the area.

I noticed their sign up for registration a couple of weeks ago and kept making the mental note to myself to call.  Each time I thought of calling, though, I found something else to do instead and I don’t know why.  I have been so anxious about getting Rory into preschool next year for a couple of reasons.  For one, he really wants to go.  He asks about it all the time.  Second,I really want him to go.  The thought of having a couple of hours to myself a few times a week has me more excited than a Caribbean vacation!

I mentioned me not calling to sign Rory up to a friend and she commented how he is my baby and it’s hard to watch that last one go off to school.  Normally, I would agree.  It was hard for me to get rid of the baby stuff, but for some reason, I don’t feel too sentimental about Rory going to school.  When Kamryn started school, I noticed such a positive change in her personality, maturity and general attitude that any feelings of missing her, dissipated rather quickly.

I know that when the actual day comes and I send him off to school, I’ll probably cry and there will be days when I miss him because there are days that I miss Kamryn when she is at school.  That day however, is floating around somewhere in hypothetical land.

The 3 year old preschool classes are completely full.  The director told me that they filled up within minutes, so even if I would have been on top of my game, I don’t think I could have gotten Rory in.  Luckily, I’m one of the first on the waiting list and she put a star next to my name as a returning family and told me she would give us priority.  Nice.

Now I just have to find out who these other 3 year old’s are and figure out how to knock them out of the class.

Earth Day 2012

Rory thinks I’m saying “Birthday” instead of Earth Day so there has been a lot of “No, it’s not your birthday, Rory.”  being said.  Kamryn understands Earth Day because they talked about it in school and how we need to take care of our planet.

I love that they cover topics like this in schools because I hate to say that it never occurred to me to teach my kids about Earth Day.  We recycle and the kids know that there is a place for trash and a place for recycling.  I make sure they know not to keep water running and to turn off the lights when they aren’t in a room, but we didn’t get much deeper than that or how it impacts our environment.

To celebrate Earth Day we hopped in our gas-guzzling SUV and drove down to Hillcrest to  the Farmer’s Market.  We walked around, ate some good food

I'm not a Vegan, but I got this for my brother to try. It was so good - it cost about a million dollars, but it's amazing what they can do without dairy.

and drank some incredibly sweet orange juice before letting Kamryn pick out some flowers.We started our own little garden last month after watching The Lorax.  Kamryn wanted to plant some trees, but I was able to get her to settle on cucumbers and wild flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

So far I haven’t killed our plants, which is rare.  If I can get even one cucumber to grow, I’ll consider it a success.  It said they should be ready for harvest in about 8 weeks, but we’re only a couple of weeks away from that date and I don’t think we’ll have anything by then.  My next garden is going to be a salsa garden, but we’ll wait for an actual backyard before i attempt that.

Happy Earth Day!

 

Estate Sale!!

I have a new favorite thing to do on the weekend.  We live within a stone’s throw of a 55+ community.  It’s a fairly large neighborhood, but a bit secluded with access from one of the main arteries off the freeway.  We travel down that particular artery quite frequently and each weekend we see the signs for Estates Sales.

I had never been to an estate sale until a couple of weekends ago.  I have been to auctions, garage sales and yard sales, but the estate sale had never been one that I sought out – I envisioned tables of fine China and original paintings from famous artists.

We happened to be driving with not much to do when I saw an Estate Sale sign and I suggested we go check it out.  Usually Ryan is a hard sale (ha!) when it comes to me requesting such adventures, but he didn’t put up much of a protest.  I didn’t know what to expect, but to my delight we got to walk through the house and everything had a tag on it.  Eve-ry-thing.

The house had already been sold, but all of it’s contents were fair game.  I don’t know if the furniture was in the same place as it was when the previous occupant was alive, but part of me likes to think that it was.  As we wandered through the small, ranch-style house, we walked in and out of rooms, perusing the wares of whoever had lived there.

I peeked in the bathroom and not only were there about 8 house coats hanging from the shower rod, but sitting on the counter, with hand-written price tags stuck to the containers were presumably every thing from the cupboards.  From a half used container of Vaseline to an unopened bottle of Pepto Bismol…all laid out for the world to see – or at least those who live in the general vicinity.

I started to get a little sad.  It was pretty clear that it was a woman who had lived in the house and I’m guessing she isn’t at a nursing home now, but that she most likely passed away – possibly in that very house that I was walking around in.  All of her most private things were laid out for complete strangers to rifle through, comment on or decide if it was worth the price written on the sticker.  All I could imagine was this sweet little old lady, nervously watching all of these people in her house and touching her things from “the beyond”.

I don’t like to be sad so I had to put a different spin on this Estate Sale stuff because nothing pleases me more than to see how someone else lives.  I love going into someone’s house for the first time – you learn so much!  Instead I started to take note of the other “shoppers”.  I didn’t see any other families and Ryan and I seemed to be the youngest of the adults, but I didn’t see anyone that appeared to be buying for profit.  No one looked like they were searching for a hidden gem to list on eBay the second they got home.  Maybe all of those people already filtered through, but I didn’t see them, ergo they were never there.  That made me feel better.  That the purchases made that day were made by people who would, in a sense, carry on this woman’s memory in their own homes.  Yeah, I know, it’s sappy.

The harsh reality is that you can’t take it with you.  I have few possessions that I am emotionally attached to and those will certainly be things that I want my children to have.  I don’t know how I would feel about my things being sold while I’m still alive, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like it much so I’m going to request that they hold off on selling my 1/2 used bottle of tea tree oil until I’m taking my dirt nap.  If you haven’t noticed, I am assuming that I have outlived Ryan.  We’ve talked about it and we came to the conclusion that he is going to die first.  No reason in particular – he just is.

So if you happen to be my neighbor in about 50 or so years and enjoy a good sale, come on over and see what I have left behind for you.  Chances are it’s a bunch of shitty clothes and equally shitty household goods.  Enjoy!

Flashback Friday

Kamryn's first day of school

I’m not flashing back very far, but it feels like ages ago.  This was Kamryn’s first day of school this year.  When I look at this picture, I am shocked at how just a few months can so drastically change a kid – not only in appearance, but in maturity as well.

Today Kamryn decided to wear that same jean skirt to school.  Once she had it on, I was yanking it down on her hips because it went from an acceptable length to a questionable length in the last 8 months.

I had a brief pang of anxiety as I fast forwarded 10 years and I tried to quickly decide what I would do if my then 15 year old daughter walked out with a itty-bitty mini skirt on.  I couldn’t make a decision.

Some would think this is a no-brainer and would tell their child to go change.  I don’t see it that way.  I want Kamryn to make an intelligent decision when it comes to how she presents herself, not only in her physical appearance, but with her personality as well.  I don’t expect her to be able to do this entirely on her own – I intend to try and guide her the best I can, but in order for her to learn this skill, she may have to have a few failures along the way.

The thing that really sucks about about raising a teenage girl is that I’m worried about it already and she is only 5!  I have 8 more years before she even reaches age 13.  For the next 8 years, I’m going to start a campaign to bring back the fashions I wore in high school in the early 90’s.  Minus the snap-crotch body suits.  Who’s with me?

Extra Cheese Is Two Dollars

Whenever I eat pizza I think of the movie, Do The Right Thing.  I haven’t seen the movie in years, but I can’t order a slice and not think of Radio Raheem saying “Two slices.”  Ahhhh, Spike Lee and the 90’s.

I used to consider myself a pizza purist.  By that I mean I stuck to traditional American toppings – pepperoni, mushrooms, black olives, green peppers and onions.  I’ll eat any of those toppings in any combination.  I don’t like sausage and Canadian Bacon is OK but I prefer pepperoni.

There are those that swear by the quirky pizzas like Buffalo Chicken, Bacon Cheeseburger, Mac-n-Cheese or any other fusion pie, but when I get a craving for pizza, I want a traditional crust, sauce and toppings.

Last month I went out for my friend, Janis’ birthday.  We went to Urbn Pizza for drinks and dinner (it’s so trendy they don’t even put the a in Urban).  I checked out the menu before I went to see what kind of deliciousness I would be dining on.  All I saw were a lot of strange topping combinations which were undoubtedly wonderful, but there was not one traditional pizza option on the menu.

And then I saw the Mashed Potato.  The description was White pie w/ mozz, pancetta, fresh mozz, parm.  Now we’re cookin’ with fire.  That pizza was soooooo damn good.  There was a perfect amount of cheese, pancetta and potato.

I love a carb overload when it involves potatoes.  One of my favorite things to eat with Thanksgiving leftovers is mashed potato sandwiches.  Something about carb on carb makes me happy.

Tonight I made my own mashed potato pizza.  I didn’t use all the fancy ingredients like they did at Urbn Pizza.  I started with my favorite crust recipe.  This is the best crust I have ever made.  It’s super easy and you don’t need to have a mixer, even though it says it in the instructions.  I just use a wooden spoon.  I like to give my crust a little pre-bake before I put my topping on so it’s a little firmer.  Oh, and don’t bake it at 350 degrees – jack it up to 450.

Once my crust had cooked for about 5 minutes, I topped it with 2 servings of instant mashed potatoes, a cheddar/mozzarella cheese mix and some bacon.  I threw it back in the oven for about 7 or 8 minutes and then topped it with a little olive oil drizzle.

I forgot to take a picture when it was still whole.

This was fantastic!  I ate half of it myself.  Ryan made the mistake of leaving a piece behind and going for the pepperoni pizza I made.  I, of course, ate it and then he claimed it was a test and I failed.  I told him he failed – we have been married for almost 9 years.  If he thinks I’m going to pass up eating all of my favorite foods on one convenient little square of dough, he is mistaken.

One delicious serving suggestion was throwing a little hot sauce on top.

 

WTF Wednesday And A Milestone

I have mentioned some irritations I have had with other drivers in the past.  I feel like once you get your license you have an obligation to not be an idiot when you are on the road.  I know it’s hard – especially for the new, teenage drivers, but there are certain things that I feel are crucial if you are going to be driving.

I realize I live in a big city and because of that my road rage has significantly decreased.  Yes, decreased.  When there are thousands of other drivers around me, I know I can’t get from one place to another without running into at least one douche bag driver.  The benefit of living in a big city is that most non-residential streets are two lanes so you never have to stay behind the driver out for their Sunday jaunt on a Tuesday.

There is one type of traffic light that I am never able to get through without screaming “GO!” to the driver in front of me.  Most of the on-ramp traffic lights in San Diego allow for two cars to pass per green light to get on the freeway.  The lights are only on at high traffic times like morning and evening commutes.  I don’t mind the concept of the lights.  I know that it prevents thousands of accidents and allows for traffic to move much more smoothly.  What bothers me is when a driver takes it upon themselves not to be the 2nd car to go through the light.  They stop after the car in front of them goes through and waits for the light to turn green again.

I can say with absolute certainty that there were engineers much smarter than the guy in the Nissan Sentra that decided two cars per light was the appropriate amount to ensure traffic not only got onto the freeway safely, but also didn’t cause a huge backlog to get on the on-ramp.

I refuse to give any benefit of the doubt to these drivers.  I still remember the first time I came across one of these lights.  I was visiting my brother and friend, Kelley in San Diego sometime in the early 2000’s.  I was driving Kelley’s Jeep which made me a little nervous because the car she had before, I did this to:

I'm looking awfully proud of totaling my good friend's car, but let me just say she is the one that is taking the picture.

I had dropped her off at work and was driving to my brother’s house when I encountered this on-ramp light.  I read the sign, observed the drivers next to me go through their green light and when it was my turn, did the same.  Not rocket science.  All that is needed is knowing your colors and the ability to count to two.  Technically, Rory can do it.

Today my WTF Wednesday Award goes to all of the drivers who won’t follow the instructions on the sign and be that 2nd car to go through the green light.As for the milestone, today is my 150th blog post!  Who would have thought I would have made it this far?  Not me!  I’m pretty excited about it so I’m going to have a giveaway.  Not for this milestone, but for my 200th post.  I haven’t decided what it’s going to be or how I’m going to do it, but one lucky reader will get something awesome.  Sorry for that let down, but it just occurred to me.

The Serial Killer Trifecta

It was another beautiful day in Sunny San Diego so we decided to head for the beach again.  I love that Kamryn is only in school for half the day so we can spend our afternoons as we see fit.  It’s also Stress Awareness Day and what better way to give the stress in my life the finger than to sit and listen to the ocean waves?

I had all of our belongings laid out, the kids were playing in the sand and I had just opened my book when a woman sitting 10 feet away got out a small box of Cheerios.  Before I go any further, let me just say:  I do not like when my days at the beach are fucked with.  I don’t care how many other people in my vacinity, I expect that you do nothing to disturb me whilst I lay in the sand.  Kamryn and Rory play for hours with very little interaction from me when we are at the beach so if someone is screwing up the good thing I have going on, I get a little irritated.

The minute this woman opened up the plastic inside the Cheerio box there was a flock of seagulls (the only thing worse would have been the band) screeching and flapping all around me.  Rory likes chasing seagulls.  He runs after then and screams “MA-KAW!  MA-KAW!”  but I think even today there were a few more than he was used to.

The Cheerio lady got up and started walking closer to the water.  The seagulls followed and Rory was close behind still screaming “ma-kaw” when I saw him pick up a rock.  I immediately yelled his name and was scrambling to stand up.  I was laying on my stomach so I had to make sure “the girls” were in their proper place so as not to slip a nip to all the beach goers.  He probably couldn’t hear me over all the seagull squawking, but he didn’t even flinch when I yelled.

I eventually got to my feet and ran over and grabbed Rory’s arm that held the rock.  I may have been in a bit of shock and possibly even a little scared at the sight of my son cocking his arm back to launch a sizable rock at a harmless bird.  I told Rory that he could not throw a rock – EVER!  Not at a person, not at an animal, not at a plant.  No rock throwing!  I don’t think I was making a lot of sense.  My circuits misfire when my emotions run high, but my tone was getting my point across and Rory started to cry.

He was trying to plead his case, but I wasn’t having it and told him to go sit on the blanket.  There we had a conversation about whether he would want someone to throw a rock at him.  He said he would not and I asked him why not.  In his most exasperated tone he shrieked, “It would hurt!”    My follow up question was, “Would it hurt the bird if you threw a rock at it?”  Hanging his head, he responded with “Yes.”  Oh thank God.

If you haven’t heard of the Serial Killer Trifecta, it’s the theory that if a child

  1. Wets his/her bed until a late age
  2. Kills or tortures small animals
  3. Plays with fires

they may become a serial killer.

I don’t really believe that a child will become a serial killer if they do the above, but I certainly don’t want to be sitting in a courtroom one day and recalling the day that Rory stoned a seagull to death.