Run That by Me Again

Posted on May 16, 2013 | 2 Comments

Have you ever done something just to see what it’s like, purely for the experience? Maybe you’ve gone para-sailing, gotten some ink, or cut your hair short — REALLY short.

For me, it was running the marathon. Last year, we ran the marathon. We trained for the marathon. And in the end, when we were no longer speaking to each other, we had that medal to show for our efforts (although Erma hardly ever lets me wear it). It was the hardest half-mile I’ve ever run-walked.

Runners

This is what people look like who are running a marathon. There legs are all bendy and their bodies are propelling forward, heading toward the end goal of the start line.

And I had no plans to do it ever, ever, ever again. For various reasons, including everything seen here.

But Erma wanted to run. She has running in her blood, or at least she has a love for running in her blood. So tonight we ran our second marathon.

Batman

This is Batman. He was a celebrity runner at the marathon who got to ride around in a jeep. Next year, I will dress as Batman so that I can run the marathon in a jeep. Best idea ever.

We came in fifth from last, behind an amazing blind child who people were cheering for like crazy, and we pretended it was kind of for us, too. Erma was giving everybody on the sidelines high fives, even babies. I was headed toward the finish line screaming, “WE DID IT. WE LIIIIIIIVED.”

Almost at the End

WE ARE STILL ALIIIIIIVE!!!1!

Then, in the end, we weren’t wearing matching bib numbers and security came for us. Yes, another fantastic marathon ending, as a police officer tried to ensure I was not abducting Erma. In the end, he used my friend Tiffany’s phone to look at my Facebook profile. That seems to be 21st Century proof of parental rights.

So, kids, before you go off on your rants about Facebook, remember: SOCIAL MEDIA SAVES LIVES.

Now I’m going to eat some ice cream and listen to some ukelele music.

Sigourney Does Tricks

Sigourney and Flathead watched us marathoners from the sidelines. Sigourney made use of her time by performing various tricks on the railing and peeing her pants. GO RUNNERS!!!

 

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Posted in diet screw-ups, organization screw-ups

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My Trophy Showcase

Posted on May 2, 2013 | 5 Comments

Outstanding! I have nominated myself for a whole bunch of new awards, that far surpass the Mother of the Year Award. I think it will be a short while before I hand myself a Lifetime Achievement Award for being a doofus.

And the award for Winter Weather Blunder goes to…

ME! for having the following conversation this morning as I was taking Sigourney to the childcare center:

Sigourney: It cold outside.

Me: Yep.

Sigourney: Why I no have coat on?

Me: *looks at Sigourney in shock and awe*

It was 28 degrees. How did I not notice she wasn’t wearing a coat until we were two steps from inside the building?

And the award for Worst Misuse of Chocolate goes to…

ME! Thinking to myself while eating a granola bar at my desk, “Why is my date stamp stamping brown instead of blue? Oh wait.”

Those 101 forms have never tasted so sweet. You are welcome, Jody!

And the award for Complete and Total Absent-Mindedness goes to…

ME! for taking our anxiety-ridden, squeaky-nosed dog on a shed-filled car ride to the veterinarian yesterday in order to update vaccinations needed to board him this weekend, then losing the tags and paperwork before getting home. I have searched for hours, wasted so much time and frustration looking for something that was put directly into my hand yesterday. I have no recollection whatsoever of my final moments with that dog tag.

Is officially not foaming at his mouth, but a new notation on his medical file says, “Anxiety.” Patient may be difficult.

And the award for Consumption of Food Wrappings goes to…

ME! as I say to myself, “Why does this Rolo taste like foil? Oh wait.”

And the award for Late Night Alertness goes to…

ME! for not being able to differentiate the sound of whistling through my nose from the sound of a child crying. “Is that a kid? Is a kid awake? It’s 1 a.m. Why is there a kid awake? … Oh wait. It’s my nose.”

Erma finds these awards surprising. Or she hears her sister talking to one of her mittens: “You stay on my tummy. You. Stay. On. My. Tummy. Mr. Mitten!!!!”

I am going to need a new display case for all of the trophies I keep giving myself. Yay me!

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Posted in diet screw-ups, pet screwups, won't somebody please think of the children

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Monday Pants

Posted on April 29, 2013 | 4 Comments

My good friend from the Internet, Jean Day Friday, professes to love Fridays, the casualness of wearing jeans and such. (She might not update her blog much, but man alive, when she does, it’s always hilarious.) (Also, confusingly, there is an email in my inbox from my good friend from the Internet Harper Faulkner, who professes admiration for Jean, insofar as parties without her go.)

I digress. Where I work, there is no Jean Day Friday. There is no Denim Thursday or Polo Shirt Wednesday.

And yet, I still cling with feverish hope that I will be comfortable at work.

I found these black pants. They are the best.

mondaypants

They are comfortable and I *think* they pass for professional leg wear.

Where did I find such pants? Thank you for asking. I found them in a box that was mailed to me when I was pregnant with my second child.

They were from my cousin Jazzhands (who never updates her blog, which is very sad. what is the opposite of jazzhands? honky-tonk hands?). They were her maternity pants, and I never gave them back.

I have no shame.

I have very little shame.

I have some shame.

My life is nothing but shame.

But I’m keeping the pants.

Monday is, without a doubt, my least favorite day of the week. Getting up early, seeing if it’s still winter outside, sitting in an 84-degree office. After two days off, it’s a real drag to get going again.

That is why Monday gets its own pants: Monday pants.

Where are my Monday pants? Are my Monday pants in the wash? I’m going to have to call in sick if I can’t find my Monday pants! *devolves into crazed gibberish*

Monday pants make Mondays entirely bearable.

You know what? I also have some Tuesday pants. They are pretty fantastic as well.

tuesdaypants

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Posted in work screw-ups

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There’s Nothing Like a Good Knish

Posted on April 28, 2013 | 1 Comment

My mom always used to tell us, in her most Brooklyn tone, that there is nothing like a good knish. Whatever that meant. Where I grew up, there was not a good knish or a bad knish anywhere in sight.

This morning our temple hosted a gourmet brunch. It is a chance for people in the community to sample Jewish delicacies that they likely have not encountered before, like gefilte fish and kugel.

This year, Erma and I attended as guests, so we could check out the scene and prepare to don aprons and help out with next year’s event.

We saw old friends and made new ones. And we ate so many fantastic foods, including cheese blintzes, kugel, challah, matzoh brei, and fruit compote. Not tried but looked at thoughtfully was pickled herring (served up by Fargo’s one and only Glenn Miiller!), gefilte fish, bagels with lox, and chopped liver.

It's Just Brunch

You know what the very best thing on the buffet line was? The potato knish. I would drive to Winnipeg for more of those, they were so delicious.

This just proves that Mom is always right. There’s nothing like a good knish.

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Posted in just plain silliness

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Friday Picture Test

Posted on April 26, 2013 | 3 Comments

This is your Friday test. There are no questions, only the pictures below.

coffee1

coffee2

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Posted in work screw-ups

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Slippery Slopes

Posted on April 17, 2013 | 8 Comments

 stillwinter

stillwinter2

motheroftheyear

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Posted in won't somebody please think of the children

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Fear #292: Balloons

Posted on April 15, 2013 | 7 Comments

fearballoons

I also loathe those Pillsbury Doughboy canisters that pop when you least expect them to, even when you most expect them to.

The kids are playing with that #$*&%^* green balloon right now.

What we need is balloon legislation. Criminal background checks before owning or operating a balloon. Balloons should be licensed and owners should have to undergo intense training before being allowed to toss a balloon. No underage balloon blowing. Strict penalties for those who use balloons in abhorrent acts. Or else all balloons should be forced to be housed in a secret arsenal in Montana and left to slowly deflate.

Seriously, I am going to cower under the kitchen table until it’s spring. Which might be a long time coming.

Tax Day

Minnesota on April 15, 2013

 

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Posted in just plain silliness

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Grand Opening of the Red River Valley’s Newest and Most Casual Fine Dining Hotspot

Posted on April 9, 2013 | 3 Comments

There are a number of fine dining options in Fargo-Moorhead. That number is seven, and they are as follows:

  1. HoDo Restaurant (not to be confused with Ho Ho’s, which are also good)
  2. Sarello’s The Lost Italian
  3. The cleverly hidden Mezzaluna
  4. Toscana – the only place in Fargo or Moorhead where you can order up some legs-o-frog
  5. Monte’s Downtown – the only place in Fargo or Moorhead where you can drink your parsnips
  6. Maxwells – the only place in Fargo or Moorhead you can get Amish chicken
  7. John Alexander’s Restaurant and Martini Bar – website coming soon

But if you are looking for a place to take a VIP visitor, none* of these places are open on a Sunday evening.

That is why I would always pick the even more cleverly hidden fine dining establishment that serves up the freshest faux food experience (WHY green pineapple WHY?).

Best Makers. They make the best. makers.

bestmakersmenucover

After reviewing the menu, I ordered a smattering of savory samples, including but not limited to: chicken soup, a carton of eggs, Swiss cheese, a whole chicken, and “hot coffee” (you know it’s hot when you can see the steam coming right off the menu).

bestmakersmenu

My server had to do some digging to find some of the ingredients. That pesky green pineapple had rolled under the sink/stove. But it wiped off right clean!

The next time you are visiting Fargo-Moorhead, possibly in search of the perfect job, marathon, or street fair, skip the rest and come to the best: BEST MAKERS (a registered subsidiary of Daddy’s Famous Bread, Inc.)

* Three, if you count Sickies Garage

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Posted in art screw-ups, won't somebody please think of the children

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Elijah Didn’t Come but the Magician Drank All the Wine

Posted on March 25, 2013 | 17 Comments

Tonight is the first night of Passover. Flathead made a delicious brisket, and we had an abbreviated Seder, in which we tell the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of slavery.

The most important part of a Seder, if you are a child, is the afikomen. The afikomen is a piece of matzo that is secreted out during the dinner, hidden, and then scavenged for after the meal. The child who finds the afikomen can trade it back to the leader of the Seder for a prize.

Matzos and Kosher Wine

After we had cajoled Erma into trying the symbolic hard-boiled egg (“Daniel Tiger would be disappointed in you — you’ve got to try new foods, ’cause they might taste goo-ood”), I asked her if we should check the afikomen plate to see if the afikomen was still there.

“Whoa,” Erma said. “It’s gone!”

At this point, Sigourney had already disappeared from the table to play with Calico Critters.

Erma called after her sister. “Sigourney! Come quick! We have to find the big cracker!”

Together, they found the secretly hidden half piece of matzo and traded it for a chocolate coin for each of them.

“But Mom,” Erma said, her eyes wide, “how did the offyomen get hidden? Who hid it?” She looked around the room for the magician who had sneaked off with the afikomen.

I moved in front of Erma. “You’re looking at her,” I told her.

“Who?” she repeated, bewildered. She contorted herself to look behind me, where the magician was surely standing.

“Me!”

“YOU hid the afficoffee?!?” She was astonished.

Apparently, Erma did not know that her very own mother is a magician.

And I did not know how little children pay attention to their parents until I lifted the afikomen from the table, right in front of them, and hid it in a kitchen drawer.

Or, in other words, I am a magician.

pesach2

Sigourney is astounded that Erma is actually going to eat a bite of…mashed potato. Sigourney also made sure that the brisket did not touch her plate of peas. I will say, though, that she tried a piece of parsley and some horseradish!

I would give my pinkie toe for some chocolate covered matzo right about now.

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Posted in won't somebody please think of the children

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The Tempest AKA The Birthday Party

Posted on March 24, 2013 | 8 Comments

A wise woman once told me that a house filled with preschool aged girls is akin to a NASCAR event, with children running laps until they are sweating (yet they never crash…except into mirrors).

Unfortunately, that wise woman did not bestow that wisdom upon me until five minutes prior to eight school-aged girls arriving and immediately converging into an Olympic style event that involved running, running, running…and not stopping. Ever.

Erma’s art-themed birthday party was 5% art, 5% cake and apple juice refills, and 90% tempest.

Erma said it was the best party she had ever had.

Next year in Jerusalem. Or the gymnastics studio or Clay Your Way or the zoo or…anywhere but here.

Eating Her Cake

The only picture I took of the birthday girl at her birthday party.

Leftover Cake

Sigourney really gets into her cake.

O the Owl

Our homemade O the Owl pinata. We decided giving a bunch of very, um, “active” girls a bat and telling them to start swinging would not make the best ending to the party, so we’re saving the pinata. Maybe for next year. ;)

Daniel Tiger Cake

It was interesting to cut this (divine) chocolate Daniel Tiger cake. I had to lop off the ears, then someone wanted a shoe, then someone else wanted a piece of stomach. I think I ended up eating his rear end.

Five

That’s my girl. My five-year-old girl.

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