Happy Halloween?

My favorite time of year is upon us once again.  I so enjoy Halloween that I often think of costume possibilities throughout the year.  Usually those ideas are so fantastic that I make a mental note that I must start organizing and preparing for the costume no later than the last day of July.  Soon, I’m staring down October 30th on the calendar and my kids end up with crappy store-bought costumes.

At least that is what happened this year.  Last year, we successfully pulled off the Scooby-Doo gang (sans Scooby).

Halloween 2011

And this year I have a mermaid who has already lost 40% of the sequins on her skirt and a pirate who is actually wearing a buccaneer costume that is being held together with safety pins.  I am a boring old witch whose hat won’t stay on her head and tights that claim to be one-size-fits-all, but the crotch is only slightly higher than my knees.  I’m pretty sure Ryan won’t be making any attempt at a costume at all.

I’m declaring right now that I will never buy a store bought costume again.  It’s not so much the cost because I guarantee I spend way more on my homemade costumes than I do on the store bought ones, but I just like the fact that they can be relied upon to hold up through multiple wears.  I also like to get pieces that can be worn on non-Halloween days.  Kamryn wore the little purple dress all the time and I intended to wear the orange sweater, but the neck is just a bit too tight around the neck.

Now that I have established that our costumes don’t even meet mediocre standards, I had a couple of other disappointments today.  The first came when I took Rory to school this morning.  I checked him in only to see a sign that said a water pipe had burst and because of no running water, school was cancelled.  They had a parade planned for the kids, which all the kids participated in, but then they were sent home.  Ugh.Normally, Rory not having school would be a bit of a disappointment because it means I don’t get my 3 hours of “me” time.  But today, my “me” time was lost anyway due to Kamryn’s Halloween party, which Rory would now be accompanying me.

I am the room mom for Kamryn’s class this year which means I am in charge of organizing the class parties.  With the help of Pinterest and numerous websites, there is no shortage of ideas for crafts, games and snacks for kids.  It’s the execution that counts.  Overall, the party went fairly well.  We played games, made spider cookies, made some bat crafts and listened to some music. The letdown came when I told Rory we had to leave.

He threw a fit of all fits.  Screaming, crying, hitting, etc.  It took absolutely every ounce of self control I had not to throw him over my shoulder, haul him out of school and pass him off to the next parent that drove up.  We got in the car and I expressed my extreme disappointment in his behavior to which he yelled, “I WANT MY BINKY!”

The minute we got in the house, I told him to take off his costume and go to bed.  He did.  Two hours later, I had to wake him to pick Kamryn up from school.  I guess someone was a little tired.  It was then that I noticed a very creepy and ghostly image around the pumpkins that we carved on Sunday.

Moldy Witch

Out went the pumpkins.

The only thing I wanted to do was sit down and watch a good 60’s or 70’s horror movie like Rosemary’s Baby, The Omen, Amityville Horror or The Exorcist.  There is something about the movies set in those decades that are always just a little bit creepier to me.  Surprisingly, I couldn’t find any of those movies – not even on AMC and I was left watching My Idiot Brother. 

Once we got home from picking Kamryn up from school, Kamryn declared today the best Halloween ever and we haven’t even gone trick or treating yet.  Rory is singing “Trick or treat!  Smell my feet!  Please I can have something yummy?”  And I am watching A Haunting, one of my favorite shows with terrible acting and horrible special effects, but a great narrator’s voice.

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I Did A Good Deed…I Think

I had my first taste of freedom today after a week of the kids being off of school for Thanksgiving break.  To say that the kids function much better when they have a strict schedule is an understatement.

I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do.  I knew I wanted to go for a run since that hasn’t been a priority of mine lately, but beyond that, I didn’t know if I should sit at home and catch up on some DVR’d shows, read my book or run errands.  I decided that I needed to run errands.  I had a check that needed to be deposited and a couple of things that needed to be returned at different stores.

I had finished my returns and had just pulled into the parking lot of my bank.  There was an older woman walking through the middle of the parking lot so I was waiting for her to pick a side before pulling into a spot.  I watched a man in his late 70’s or early 80’s get in his car and put it in reverse.  I took a quick glance at the woman walking and she had almost made it to the curb and she was thankfully out of the way of any traffic.  I couldn’t help but think of the South Park episode, Grey Dawn.  If you don’t know it, look it up.

The shiny, silver Infiniti parked next to the man wasn’t quite so lucky.  He started backing up and I was cringing because I knew he was going to hit the back panel of the neighboring car.  Sure enough, the entire right side of his car rubbed up against the back left panel of the Infiniti, leaving a nice black scratch.  He stopped, pulled back in his spot and because I like to think the best of people, I assumed he was going to get out and check out the damage.  Nah…he tried to reposition his car and ended up pulling out and hitting the car again.

At this point, I had gotten out of my car and was walking towards the ATM while watching some inter-vehicular dry humping.  I was also searching in my purse for a pen because it was pretty clear that the guy driving wasn’t going to stop, much less leave a note.  I wrote down his license plate and I’m almost 100% certain that he saw me standing there writing it down, but he still chose not to stop.

Once I had finished my banking business, I returned to my car and began scripting my tattle-tale note to the silver Infiniti driver.  I already was starting to feel kind of bad.  What if my note somehow results in this man losing his license?  And then I thought, Well, if that’s the case, he may have a lot of prior accidents and shouldn’t be driving.  And then I started to feel like an ageist.  But then I argued that he did hit another car…twice.  And then I thought, It’s just a car!  Who cares?  But then I thought of how I would react if I came out of somewhere to find a big scratch on my car.  Through all of my inner turmoil, I had written the following note:

I saw someone hit your car this morning.  He was backing out and rubbed against your back panel.  He was driving a red Toyota Camry (I think) I’m not 100% sure on the make and model, but his license plate is 6***236.  If you have any questions, you can email me at…

After placing my note under the windshield wiper of the car, I noticed the United States Naval Academy license plate holder on the Infiniti.  Hmmm, I wonder if this guy hit an Officer’s car!?  I felt a little better about tattling.  But what if the guy in the red Camry was an Officer?  I had no idea what the hell was going on in my head.

I got home around 2:45 after picking Kamryn up from school.  I checked my email and sure enough, I had an email from Susan. :

Dear Amy:

Thanks so much for taking the time to leave a note on my car. May I call you to ask a couple of questions?

My cell phone number is 619-xxx-xxxx.

Thanks again. That was very thoughtful of you.

Kind regards,

Susan

I called Susan and left her a message along with my number.  Normally, I wouldn’t give my number to anyone I didn’t know, but with the power of the internet, I found out all kinds of things on Susan before giving her my number and she seems like a pretty trustworthy gal (and a previous dancer).  She never attended the Naval Academy, though.

Anyway, Susan called back about 20 minutes later and was extremely grateful for my note.  She was so grateful, she said she wanted to give me something for my trouble.  I refused, but I’m a little curious as to what she would have given me.  A cup of coffee?  A check?  A spa day?  I wonder what a note about a car getting hit goes for these days?

Susan’s last words to me were, “Thanks again, Amy.  You did a good deed.”
I’m pretty sure red Toyota Camry guy doesn’t think so.

Dumbshit With The Desk

I don’t expect much from people.  Really.  Just some common sense, a little logic and maybe some interesting conversation every once and awhile.

Ever since Sunday, I kept getting a phone call from someone with a 310 area code.  According to Wikipedia, that is somewhere in the Los Angeles area.  I don’t know anyone in LA.  I mean, I know people who live there, but my guess is that they aren’t calling me.  Ellen?  Tom?

Anyway, along with the calls, that I decided not to answer, I also got a text which read:

Hi!  Is this desk still available?

With a picture of a desk.

I thought about sending back a smart ass response, but I get scared and paranoid about that stuff.  Like what if the text was coming from…inside the house!  So I ignored the text too.

This afternoon I got yet another call from my 310 buddy.  This time I answered it because I was feeling feisty.

Me:  Hello?

310 Buddy: Uh, hello?

Me:  I just said that.

310 Buddy:  What?

Me:  What do you want?

310 Buddy:  Oh.  OK.  Is the desk still available?

Me:  I don’t know.

silence

Me:  I’m just kidding.  I don’t have a desk.

silence

Me:  Hello?

310 Buddy:  Craigslist.

Me:  Yeeees?

310 Buddy:  Is this 619-733-XXXX?

Me:  Yes.

310 Buddy:  You have a desk for sale on Craigslist.

Me:  No, I don’t.  It’s the wrong number.  Can you give me the ad number?

310 Buddy:  Ad number?

Me:  Yes.

310 Buddy:  I don’t se…oh yeah, here’s a number.

Silence

Me:  Can you give it to me?

310 Buddy:  Do you have a pen?

Me:  I have a pencil.

Silence

Me:  *sigh*  I’m ready.

310 Buddy:  Oh!  OK…it’s 33044….

Me:  Thanks!

310 Buddy:  OK.  So…

Me:  Bye.

So now I don’t know who got beat with the stupid stick worse.  The guy trying to buy the desk or the moron that posted the ad with the wrong phone number.

Because I’m such a nice person, I replied to the post on Craigslist and let the guy selling the desk that he had an interested party and left 310 Buddy’s phone number, along with a request to change the phone number in his ad.  It is going to really blow 310 Buddy’s mind if he gets a call from the Desk Seller.

All of this for a crappy desk:

Not My Finest Hour

Today is my dear husband’s birthday and on this day of celebration, it’s unfortunate that his wife got beat by the stupid stick.  I know it has absolutely nothing to do with me going out to karaoke with my friends last night and possibly overindulging in a vast array of tasty beverages.  Nope…no connection whatsoever.

After waking up and feeling like I got run over by a truck, I dropped Kamryn off at school and immediately went back home and watched TV with Rory.  He watched two episodes of Parenthood with me without complaint.  That was enough of a break for me to get up and take a shower and then run to Wendy’s for the essential “morning after” french fry run.  Once I had my fill of deep fat fried deliciousness, it was time to pick Kamryn up from school.

Kamryn had her kindergarten evaluation today so she stayed after school with her teacher for an extra half hour while Mrs. M tested her.  I needed to be at school at 12:15 and when I walked out of the house, it was 12:04.  At 12:06, I realized I did not have my keys.  I had Rory with me so there was no way that I could get to school in time.  If I had a stroller, I could have busted ass to get there in time, but with a dawdling 3 year old in tow, it was out of the question.

I contemplated calling the school to tell them I would be late, but decided against that and instead called my friend, Kate, who lives only a couple of blocks away and stated my dilemma.  She offered to go pick up Kamryn at school and explain to Mrs. M that Kamryn’s mom is a moron and locked herself out.  I agreed that that was probably best.

Rory and I walked to Kate’s house while she went to pick up Kamryn with her girls, who were very concerned about Kamryn’s state of mind since I wasn’t at school to get her.  I love how Kamryn’s friends are looking out for her in her hour of need.  Fortunately, Kamryn doesn’t get too worked up about that sort of thing and I’m sure was pleasantly surprised to be picked up by her friends instead of her mother.

In the meantime, I had tried calling  Ryan at work and got his voicemail.  I left him a message and then sent him a follow up text in case he was in a meeting.  Next I texted my brother, who has a spare key, to see if I could easily break into his place to retrieve my key.  There was not, but he agreed to drive home on his lunch break to unlock his place so I could get the key.

Kamryn, Rory and I walked to my brother’s place, which is luckily about 50 yards away from our house, got the key and finally got home.  The whole ordeal took an hour.

This is when we all sit back and wonder what we did before cell phones and try to figure out what we would have done to resolve the issue.  I do not know anyone’s phone number anymore.  I know 3 phone numbers:  mine, Ryan’s cell and my parent’s home number.  That’s it.  I don’t know my brother’s cell, parents’ cells, Ryan’s work and certainly not the number of anyone I have met in the last 10 years.

Honestly, I think I would have attempted to somehow climb up on the balcony and go through the siding glass door, which was open.  We have a huge ladder hanging out on our balcony which two different people have request to borrow after locking themselves out of their condos.  It seems we are the only people with a ladder tall enough to get up on a 2nd floor balcony.  And it’s a bit ironic that the only ones the ladder can’t help are the owners of said ladder during a lock out situation.  That should have been one of the verses of Alanis’s song.

Guess Wha’ Today Be?

’tis National Talk Like A Pirate Day!  I looked all o’er t’ find a good translator ‘n I found th’ best one on pirate.monkeyness.com.  I find that when I try t’ natter like a pirate, I end up speakin’ in a really bad Jamaican accent.  I be goin’ t’ keep this short ’cause I be already annoyin’ meself wit’ all o’ th’ apostrophes.

Last night when I went t’ bed, me nose was all stuffed up ‘n I was feelin’ bad…nah jus’ sluggish, but I felt like complete Davy Jones’ locker.  Rory has had a cold since Sunday night ‘n ’twas clear he had passed it on t’ me.  I dosed meself wit’ some Nyquil ‘n went t’ bed.  This mornin’ when I woke up, I didn’ feel much better, but had t’ get th’ sprogs t’ school ‘n ’tis me runnin’ day.

A while back I posted that th’ cure fer a hangover was runnin’.  I ‘ave now discovered that it also cures th’ common cold.  I really didn’ feel like runnin’ ‘n th’ first mile was more than hard, but then it started gettin’ easier ‘n while I only ran 4 o’ me scheduled nigh-on two leagues, I chalked that up as a win.

One slightly disturbin’ thin’ about this, though.  I was lootin’ a shower afterwards ‘n I lost some time.  I be nah sure how much – maybe jus’ a minute or two, but thar was a definite lapse in time.  It kind o’ felt like I fell asleep standin’ up.  I didn’ pass out or feel dizzy, jus’ nah really conscious.  Oh well.  If ye be in th’ medical profession ‘n that’s a sign o’ somethin’ serious, let me know, but I be pretty sure I be OK.

Alright, enough o’ this.  Happy Pirate Day!

1950’s Housewives On Sale In Aisle 5!

This morning, on what has become a weekly trip to Target, I took a detour through the women’s clothes to see if their swim suits were marked down enough for me to buy a couple for next year.  They were not.

I have amazing peripheral vision.  Really, I’m not kidding.  I think my eyeballs are shaped really spherically or something because I can almost see behind me.  Or maybe my peripheral vision isn’t actually better than anyone else and I just choose to actually take note of those little somethings seen out of the corner of my eye.

Well, today I saw a pattern that appealed to me and so I approached to find a dress on the clearance rack with a price tag of $3.76.  From what I can surmise, the dress was bought online and returned to the store and they didn’t know how to price it because it was an “Online Only” item.

I didn’t try it on because I didn’t have time and for $3.76, even if I only wear it once, I’ll kind of feel like it was worth it.  I got it home, tried it on and immediately can see why it was returned.  The dress is not flattering.  At least not on me.  The more I looked at myself in the mirror, the more I thought I was resembling June Cleaver.  Hmmm…not a good look for me.I’m going to wear it out – I have to at least once.  Can I just say that I did not notice the puffy sleeves when I bought it.  That may have been a deal breaker.  I do not like puffy sleeves even on my 5 year old daughter.  Also, sorry about the lack of makeup.  I do not see a need for it on most days – immediately eliminating me from the Mrs. Cleaver roll.

Beach Day

We spent the day at the beach.  Kamryn was getting a little better at boogie boarding.  That wasn’t as easy as I thought it was.  I got washed off the two times I tried it…much to the amusement of the French man playing with his kids at the edge of the water.  Kamryn told me I was too large for her boogie board.  Rory gave it a whirl too, but he must have been too small because he washed right off as well. 

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Rory vs. the waves.

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Kamryn claims she puked here because she swallowed ocean water.

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