Mrs. Dub

With love, Mrs. Dub

2008-12-24T00:01:00.003-06:00

So this is it.

As you may have sensed, I've grown weary of blogging. It's not you; it's me. After three long years of being Mrs. Dub, I'm ready to move on to a different medium. I'm hoping to use the time I spent blogging on other writing projects and/or professional thumb wrestling.

I've been overwhelmed, touched, inspired and supported by all of you. I am truly humbled that any of you, particularly strangers, have wanted to read my nonsensical ramblings. Thanks for all your comments, emails and packages. The latter two are still encouraged.

I don't know if this is goodbye forever; I'm too fickle to commit to that. But I do need a break and it could be a long one. I already contribute to a private family blog and may consider creating a private one for friends with photos and occasional updates. We'll see. I just know that it's not that fun for me any more, and that's all that matters.

I've found a lot of joy and creative release from blogging. It helped me through some hard times, improved my writing and allowed me to chronicle my motherhood experience. But I'd be lying if it's all positive. I have an increasing feeling that there is too much noise on the Internet, and I've made the decision to be one less sound. There are scores of wittier writers out there, and I'd rather see you spend your time there. Better yet, I'd like to see us outside or on the floor with our kids.

Good luck to all of you with your lives and endeavors. I'll be checking your blogs on occasion, though I'm hoping to distance myself from my computer in general in the coming year. Time to work on my shorthand.

Merry Christmas, Happy Easter and good luck with that one thing!

p.s. I'm 10 weeks pregnant. Maybe it's the hormones?

p.p.s. No, you can't talk me out of it.

HTT - Your Christmas lights are ugly

2008-12-23T05:38:00.002-06:00

via someone in England

From Cooey's Mom: "How 'bout flashing Christmas lights vs. constant? And what about yard ornaments? Are they fun or tacky? My husband and I debate over these every Dec."

This one is easy for me. First, no flashing lights. It can cause seizures and reindeer are already prone to them. Also, they can look tacky, especially when there are multiple strands flashing out of synch. I don't mind some of the more modern light options, like ball ornaments for trees or snowflakes along the porch, but ditch those icicle lights. They scream "1995" to me, but that's a personal issue. I also prefer large lights to small lights and colored lights to white ones, unless you are totally decking your house out, in which case a bold, white display is charming. I also love to drive by super-lit homes, but I have a funny feeling there is something a little bit off with the owners. Maybe a troubled childhood or repressed joy? I'll call Dr. Phil later and get back to you on that one.

Second, I'm not a huge fan of yard ornaments. If it is done well, it works, but usually it's overdone. I particularly loathe blow-up ornaments (no offense to any friends, family or neighbors who own them, as Miss Dub lives to see them), but that's mostly because they are in EVERY yard in certain parts of Wisconsin; the same parts of Wisconsin where you can register for your wedding at a gas station. Seriously. I'm going to make a poor taste correlation there. You should, too.

What do you think?

What is your favorite kind of Christmas display?

Yea or nay to flashing lights?

What about yard ornaments?

Also, should there be a law saying Christmas lights must turned off after January 4th or what? Because I get all ragey when I see them in February.

HTM - Jessica Simpson is dirty

2008-12-22T05:20:00.002-06:00

From (my lovely, cute, witty SIL) Steph: "To wash hair daily or not to wash hair daily... This is something I struggle with."

OK, I'm putting this one out there for the blog peeps, because I don't know the answer. I've always been a daily hair washer, except for those rare days that I don't shower, in which case I'm usually ponytailing it and void of any beauty efforts. However, I did read a little snippet in Marie Claire recently about Jessica Simpson, where stylist, bestie and chihuaha descendant Ken Paves said that she only washes her hair "two or three times a month." I'd give you the exact quote, but that's the point where I accidentally dropped my magazine into the toilet. Because that seems blatantly digusting. And, yet, the body ... the shine ... the Texas-ness of her golden locks. He did emphasize that you have to RINSE your hair daily, but what exactly does that entail? Because after reading his claim, I boldly went one day without shampooing my hair but styled it as normal ... and about three hours later I felt like I had been in a snowstorm. My hair was a flat, greasy mess. So now I'm wondering if this is another "chicken of the sea" issue, because Jessica might think that "rinsing" means using a clarifying shampoo daily, while "washing" her hair means using a conditioning, fancy-pants shampoo. Because there is NO WAY that her hair looks like that after bimonthly washings. Unless ... she means she only washes it herself two or three times a month, because her stylists, assistants and dad wash it for her every other time. That's probably the explanation. Silly Jess!

What about you?

Do you wash your hair daily?

Do you shower daily?

Do you brush your teeth daily?

Just checking.

HTF - Friends without benefits

2008-12-19T07:29:00.003-06:00

From Janaya: Is it kosher to have good friends of the opposite sex after you're married?

This is a loaded question with a loaded answer, because there are a lot of variables and possibilities. On the surface, yes, you can have good friends of the opposite sex after you're married. I mean, I had lots of guy friends growing up and in college, so it's a little weird if I swear off the gender now that I'm married. Plus, it's only natural to want to maintain friendships with any of your good friends.

But what does a friendship entail? The occasional email or phone call? Meeting up for lunch along with your spouse or the guy's spouse? Because all of that is kosher in my opinion. The more alone time and more secrecy involved, the more likely you are putting your friendship and marriage in jeopardy, or at least ticking off someone's spouse. So, as Miss Dub says, "Don't do dat!"

And who is this guy? A former friend or a former flame? Because if he's your former boyfriend of 15 years, who tried to persuade you to break of your engagement with your husband and likes to chat online EVERY DAY, then you are probably better off restricting communications to the annual Christmas letter. (We are clear on how those work, right?)

As for making new guy friends after marriage ... that's a little stranger to me. You are naturally going to become friends with coworkers and other important men in your life, but pursuing good guy buds after marriage is a little weird to me, mostly because I find myself gravitating more towards women now that I'm married. I get plenty of guy time at home and just don't feel comfortable chatting it up with men beyond basic conversation.

Finally, just think of your husband. Mr. Dub has a few old gal pals that he keeps in touch with, but all of them have become my friends, so there's no secrecy. He also has lots of female coworkers, but he doesn't have lunch alone with ONE of them every day, which is a recipe for disaster in my opinion. The thought of him spending large amounts of time with any woman besides me can get me a little hot 'n bothered. I don't want him to do it, so I don't do it myself.

What do you think?

Is it OK to have friends of the opposite sex after marriage?

What is/isn't appropriate? (I'm thinking kissing might be a no-no.)

HTT - Christmas cash

2008-12-18T06:45:00.001-06:00

This is Miss Dub's big gift this year.

From Joey and Megan: How about how much to spend on Christmas? How much is too much? What about the re-gift?

It's hard for me to say since we only have one little'un, and she won't be getting much this Christmas, because, like us, she doesn't need much. But I was talking to an acquaintance recently who told me that she was telling friends they spend about $2,500 a year on Christmas and her friends were SHOCKED ... because they all spend waaaay more. Yeah, we've never gotten close to the $1,000 mark, but we're a family of three. Personally, I think lots of people overdo it at Christmas. If you're going for quantity, the gifts should be inexpensive and simple. If you are going for quality, you should have a few nice things. No one needs that much. Personally, I think one large gift and a few small ones are adequate. (Totaling $150-$350ish a person.) After all, there is always next Christmas (and the next and the next). As for the re-gift, I think it's best to avoid them. At the least, take back the sweater you loathe for something a friend will actually love, not just like. Oh, but homemade goodies are fair game. Just re-plate them and don't say you made them yourself if you didn't. It gets complicated when people ask for recipes.

But what do you think?

How much do you spend on Christmas? (Yes, you can comment anonymously.)

How much is too much?

And what about the re-gift?

p.s. For extra credit, help out Cichelli: Can I please get some advice on Christmas presents? Do I have to give gifts to karate teachers, little gym instructors, and preschool teachers? What? and how much should it cost? And what do I give my nanny?! coworkers? neighbors?

I don't have a lot of parental experience with karate instructors yet, but I think all of the above (minus the nanny) qualify for a plate of homemade/store-bought goodies. I make salsa, but you really aren't obligated to give them anything. The nanny, however, expects a bonus. Trust me.

HTW - PC or Mac?

2008-12-17T07:10:00.004-06:00

To increase your holiday spunk, I've decided to gift you with an entire week of Hot Topics suggested by you, culminating on Wednesday with a special post of my own. Yeah, I'm giggling, too.

I don't have time to address all of your hot topic suggestions this week, but I will go for the most requested and/or interesting and/or easiest and/or most fragrant. Unlike our Christmas tree, which does NOT smell very strong. I'm going to kick it in the shins.

From Julie: "It's not juicy, but I'd like to hear people's views on PC vs. Mac. We're trying to decide!"

This one is easy, interesting and possibly fragrant. Go with the Mac, Julie, and never look back.

I mean, are there PC people out there any more? We own one, but it's merely an economic issue. I feel like we have come together as a nation to agree that Macs are prettier, smarter, cooler, faster and better. (Next up, political unity!)

As a career lass, I always worked on a Mac, mostly because publishing software is way more compatible with the creative-minded Mac. There were times I lamented this - like when I would go to CTRL-C something after a night at home, only to remember those functions must be tweaked on a Mac - but that was about the extent of my frustration.

There was also a time when popular programs like Microsoft Office were only available for PCs. That sucked. But now everything is available for Mac and compatible with either, so emails and attachments are no longer a big issue.

It's kind of like owning a Zune when you could have an iPod. Seriously?

But I want to hear what other people say. Are there PC lovers left out there, or have you all been swayed by Apple's youthful, musical advertising? I know I have.

Is your house a PC or Mac household?

Which do you prefer/want/covet?

p.s. Please do email Apple and let them know that I just gave them some blatant advertising and will humbly accept a small token of appreciation. (By small token, I mean an iPhone, iMac, MacBook Pro and Apple TV.)

p.p.s. Some of you requested Hot Topics that have already been vented on me olde blog:
For circumcision, go here.
For immunizations, go here.
For potty training, go here.
For working moms, go here.

HTT - Christmas Card Etiquette

2008-12-16T07:18:00.004-06:00

I love this Christmas photo via Flickr.

First, Mr. Dub and I don't do Christmas cards. I could say it's an ethical issue, but it's really more about laziness. Plus, we've been moving or pregnant (or fat) several Christmases past, so we just aren't in the habit. Maybe next year. (You know, when I'm a best-selling novelist, and we have fifteen kids and really hot bods.)

Second, thanks to all of you who have sent Christmas cards to me, because I love 'em. You are currently brightening my fridge, because I'm too (you guessed it) lazy to come up with a more clever way to display them.

* Look, should laziness ever become an Olympic sport, as I've suggested in many letters to the IOC, I am in competitive shape*

Third, I'm no Christmas card expert, but I have been reading them for years. As a wee lass, I loved to devour the Christmas update letters, and I still head for them as soon as I walk into my parent's home. That said, I think I can make some suggestions about whether you should brag or not about your life and kids. Short answer: Yes ... and no. Long answer: It depends on three things - tone, length and content.

TONE - Please make your Christmas card funny. Please do not take yourself too seriously or intentionally try to impress us. Please do not write about your son's fourth grade spelling bee as if it was an international event. It's not. I personally prefer a little sarcasm, but that's me. Did I mention it should be funny?

LENGTH - Number of kids, pets and accomplishments aside, do not exceed two pages (front and back preferred). Any longer and you are boring everyone, even your grandma. She told me. Plus, length and bragginess are in direct proportion. A few key accomplishments and family highlights are one thing; a detailed trip itinerary is another. If we cared, we would call you. No offense.

CONTENT - Year-end highlights include things like births, moves, major accomplishments, life updates, etc. That does not include your menu for Christmas dinner. That does not include an excerpt from your recent public address. That does not include a paragraph about your appliance woes. And, yes, I have read all these things in letters, and I am still mocking them years later. Be warned.

Other things that bug me - people who write in a quirky third person, like the baby wrote it, or devote an entire page to the dog. Oh, and if you are going to the trouble to write a letter, please include a picture.

What about you?

Do you think it's OK to brag about your family in a Christmas card?

What's the best/worst letter you've ever read?

Alright, who slipped me their meds?

2008-12-15T07:36:00.000-06:00

Oh my, where to start? I have so many thoughts in my head lately. It could be brilliance, or it could be madness. I never know with myself. I almost started this post with, "This is going to be the best work of my life." Because then whatever I said would seem deeper, wouldn't it? But I flatter myself a humble blogger, so I'm settling for this:

I'm going through a mid(ish)-life crisis.

Blame childbirth, blame infant loss - whatever the cause, I'm am no longer invincible. I no longer think that my bad physical luck + parasailing = big owie. No, it would be my death. (Mark my words.) Because we are all marching to our deaths. I know, it sounds morbid. I almost didn't leave the house for a few days, because I really, really want to live to kiss my great-grandlings at their weddings, but then we needed milk, and I realized my clock was still ticking, even inside. Yeah, there's no hiding. Death will find us all and sometimes we won't see it coming. At some point you have to come to grips with that and then get over it.

In a way, it's terribly depressing. I mean, this life seemed so limitless for my younger years. All the boys to crush on, all the books to read, all the countries to see. But now I've accomplished many of my major life milestones - college, marriage, children - and I realize that reading can be too consuming for me and traveling costs a lot of cash. So really life is just about the day-to-day monotony.

When I recognized that most of my life, most of my mortal existence, is going to be simple, I had some regrets. Not that my life won't be the whirlwind mixture of adventure, success, fame and spontaneity that I once assumed it would be, but that I haven't been glorying in the simplicity; that I've taken steps down my hallway each day when I could have leaped. After all, how many steps do I have left in this life? Why not dance? Why not add panache to my mundane tasks?

I also felt bad that I don't cry more. That when it's time to hurt - whether major loss or small upset - that I don't really, really let myself feel it. I think if someone were to take away my emotions, I would almost miss sadness as much as happiness. And really, isn't joy a combination of the two? A recognition that hard times makes good times even sweeter? That's true joy, in my opinion. So next time I'm hurting, I'm going to feel it to its gut-wrenching core. And when I start to feel better, I'm going to laugh until it hurts. Why not?

Finally, isn't it great that this life - our imperfect sojourns on earth - isn't eternal? That there is an end? That we all go out in a dramatic puff, whether it's unexpectedly or after long descent? Isn't there some dramatic flourish to that? I think it's poetic. (Even though I kind of think poets are narcissists - and that's OK. I choose not to like a lot of poetry! The freedom!)

I also think I'm starting to sound like someone who might have a fridge magnet that boasts, "Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt." (Or worse, a Garfield poster that says, "Hang in there.")

And that, my friends, is the scariest part of this whole post.

p.s. Not my best work.

p.p.s. Not even close.

p.p.p.s. We put up our tree.

Cindy Brady would be proud

2008-12-12T09:23:00.007-06:00

What is it with characters with lisps on children's television?

I mean, are they trying to teach tolerance for kids who have them? Or is it propaganda for speech impediments?

Bugs me.

What is it with Chicago politics?

2008-12-11T05:51:00.000-06:00

My governor is an idiot.

No worries, I'm sure the next one will be corrupt, too.

It's just how we roll in Chicago.

I blame the pizza.

It was permanent marker

2008-12-10T06:47:00.001-06:00

Pardon my blog funk, but my once indomitably cute daughter has embraced her toddlerhood with full force. Her once quirky stories are just not as funny when they involve defacing our property or whining until my eardrums explode. Seriously, that just happened.

The other day, Miss Dub was coloring with some markers when she said, "Mommy, come see!" She was holding the market in her hand, so I assumed the worst. She brought me to the glider in her room and said, "Look!" And there was nothing. Not a mark. Until she started to draw giant circles ALL OVER THE OTTOMAN. Right in front of me - the audacity!

In any event, I know that 90 percent of you tune in to see and hear about the quirky and affable Miss Dub, so I apologize for the recent lack of Miss-centric posts. I'll try to find some humor in the incessant warnings and timeouts. (Maybe the fact that she comes out and says, "Ta-da!"??)

The other 10 percent of you should take heart, however, because I believe you tune in to revel in my mothering disasters and give me detailed parenting advice. Sounds like I'm going to need it.

Good thing she is so unbelievably cute and funny.

HTT - You tell me!

2008-12-09T10:45:00.004-06:00

I got nothing.

I just got back from some important early morning errands, it's heaving snow outside and my child just told me she's sad that I don't have any cute jeans like her. Seriously, sister.

So I'm going to use this opportunity to generate ideas for future Hot Topics. Dish out the dirt in your comments below.

And make 'em juicy.

** For vintage HTTs, go here.

** For MTTs, go here.

Where I tell the truth about eggnog

2008-12-08T06:56:00.001-06:00

I think I'm growing dreads.

While my bout with the "Suck it" flu is graciously subsiding, Mr. Dub's went into overdrive Saturday. I haven't put on makeup in a few days. Also, I haven't brushed my hair, hence the clumped pieces that could be worked into dreads by neglect or drizzling car oil. (Is that how you do it? Spill your secrets, Lisa Bonet!)

Dreads are actually a good look for me. As much as I flatter myself to be someone who looks decently cute/fashionable/presentable at any weight, or with any hair color or jean rise, I am really good at looking frumpy. I have that "my husband loves me, so who cares?" look down pat.

In fact, in college, when I was feeling particularly blah, I would wear a vintage ring that could pass as an engagement ring on my ring finger. (Three rings in one sentence? I boweth.) That way if someone was thinking, "That girl's outfit is so awkward," they would look at my ring and think, "Well, shoot, she's cute enough to be engaged at 19." Because all 19-year-old brides are super hot. Just ask them.

But I don't just want this blog to be a place where I rant about my hard life and health woes. Although, let me be clear, I have a hard life and some health woes. However, there are many other things going on in my life. Like, the fact that we don't have a Christmas tree yet, and how I'm just not feeling the seasonal love this year. Yes, I drank some eggnog; didn't help. I just kept think, "Oh, egg and nog. That means there are eggs in this." It was a real epiphany and not a good one.

Also, I am going to Arizona for Christmas. And while it used to tick me off when people would say it doesn't feel like Christmas in Arizona because there is no snow or cold weather and a dominant Jewish population, I have to say I hope it doesn't this year. Because I'd like to go and pretend it's summer. And go swimming. And walk around in a sundress. But - newsflash - it's actually not that hot in Arizona in the winter. It's actually warmer in California. I know.

Finally, is it so wrong that I love Yo Gabba Gabba? I just feel like there are a lot of haters out there, and I don't get it. Cool graphics, indie music and kitschy characters? What don't you like?

Oh, and about my recent lack of photos - it's a privacy thing. (It's not. I just takes a lot of energy to upload those bad boys. And Miss Dub is so photoungenic these days.)

BYOU: Bring your own umbrella

2008-12-05T07:01:00.004-06:00

When it rains, it pours at the Dub house. (I tried to seasonally update that idiom, but "When it snows, it snozzles," just sounded weird.)

We still aren't sure where we are going to live next month, and we only have 5 days upon our return from Christmas vacay to pack up and move. Ru-roh. Additionally, Mr. Dub is swamped with his quarterly project at work that requires a good month of waking up at ridiculous hours that only truckers know and working from home into the wee hours of the night. On top of that, I was called last month to serve with the girl's youth group at our church, but still had to do all the food and gifts for our women's organization's Christmas party last night. Then, just to make things super awesome, Miss Dub started to throw-up the other day. Her issues have traveled to another portal, which is actually much more disgusting to clean out of the carpet. I thought she was doing better yesterday and even agreed to let her go solo to a playdate, but she returned in a new pair of clothes. Oops! (Mental note: When life gets less crazy, call said friend and offer to lick her toilets in penance.)

Now, I've got a bad case of the pukes - oh, and our heater broke yesterday. No worries, it's 7 degrees outside. Could be worse, right?

So when Miss Dub woke up at 5 a.m. this morning screaming BLOODY MURDER, there were a lot of possible issues: soiled peejers, freezing temps, sympathetic nausea. Except, when I got to her room, she was all, "I WANT ONE MORE SHOW!" On TV. At 5 a.m.

And there was nothing that was going to stop that wailing, short of a whooping, but you know I don't roll like that. (Though I'd be lying if I said I didn't hit myself yesterday just to release a little frustration. There may be a bruise.)

I told her that the TV doesn't work until 6:30, but she wasn't totally believing me. And then Mr. Dub goes to leave for work a few minutes later, which really blew my ruse. I mean, if the car works, the TV has to work, riiiiighhht, mama?

So now I have to wait at home for the heater dude to give us some warm fuzzies. Which means I'll miss the cookie exchange. And it would take a good 15 posts to describe the rigid intensity that is my local cookie exchange. Just know that seven dozen cookies were required, and I was the jerk who asked if I could just go to the brunch. (Who can eat seven dozen cookies?)

I hope sunshine is in the forecast soon.

(Count your blessings, blah, blah, I know. But it's still early, so my child's cuteness, my amazing life and my "could-be-worse" butt aren't cheering me up quite yet. Give me an hour, and I'll regret this post.)

Would you love me more if I had granite countertops?

2008-12-03T06:33:00.002-06:00

Remember that time we were going to move into a tiny apartment to save money to pay off The Man, a.k.a. student loans, a.k.a. "Why didn't you go to a cheaper grad school because it's not like your diploma is made of gold?"

Yeah, well that ambition quickly morphed into a greedy attempt to talk realtors into lowering their prices on high-end rentals. I composed a snappy little email touting our best tenant traits ("rarely clog toilets due to high fiber intake") and reminding the realtors of the glut of overprized housing and the economic advantages of renting low instead of staying empty in the winter ("Don't call me when your pipes freeze!"). Then, I emailed it to about ONE HUNDRED people. FIVE people responded. THREE told me I was crazy. ONE said maybe.

On Saturday, we met the other one. He showed us a place typically rented for $1,250 more a month than we are offering. Needless to say, I'm in love. It's an updated vintage home with charming features like a mud room and modern features like a bidet. It has 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, an office and a basement for storage.

Pros: Everything. (Especially the kitchen.)

Cons: Higher utility bills. No garage. Rent is the exact same as 2 bed/1 bath apartment we are currently renting. (That one is also a pro.) Landlord and wife live in a guest house behind the rental house because they are renovating it, so that's slightly awkward.

In any event, we won't be saving a cent compared to our current rental, but we will be getting more for our money, which is a form of frugality, right?

For the record, this post isn't because I need your help making a decision. Decision made, my friends. I want to live in that house. (Did I mention that it is fully furnished with antique shabby chic pieces that can be left per our request? And that, yes, I already pinched myself to see if I'm dreaming?)

I'm writing this post to see if you would be more likely to read my blog, tell your friends to read my blog or click on my ads if I lived in a cute house. I promise I would take lots of pictures. And maybe try to bake more.

Well, would you? Because I could really use a couple (hundred) extra bucks a month if you wouldn't mind. Did I mention there's a guest room ... which I'm not above renting out?

Start clicking.

Like, now.

I made a pie, so there!

2008-12-01T06:45:00.004-06:00

Not my pie, but basically my pie, minus the hole, because I guess this gal on Flickr knows something I don't about the advantages of the hole thingy, besides sneaking a few apples out before dessert time.

Yeah, yeah, I know, you had a perfect Thanksgiving. I've been making the blog rounds and everyone looks super skinny in their special holiday outfits with their oodles of family and/or friends. Your turkey does appear to be perfectly moist. And, yes, your Aunt Glenda's rolls are truly the best recipe out there, take that Paula Deen. Your kids are obviously cute as evidenced by all 20 pictures of them holding their over-piled plates with oversized hairbows. And that "I'm grateful for ..." list left me with a slight tear in my left eye, though it tends to water when I'm in bright sunlight, and I admittedly stopped reading after number 50.

But enough about you, did I tell you I MADE A PIE FROM SCRATCH? For the first time in my 29 years on earth? Never mind that I was forced to do it with the young gals from church; I made the freaking C-R-U-S-T myself. And I must say that it was perfectly thick, flaky and rich. The apples were a little too tart and crisp, and there was a touch too much cinnamon, but I'm not going to complain. I made a pie. And if I took a picture you would be like, "Holy Crisco, that pie is huge and looks delicious, give me some of that!" ... followed by a few eating/moaning sounds. Yeah, it would be weird.

Anyway, needless to say, our Thanksgiving was off the hizzy. We kept it cozy with one other family, but it was still a feast, complete with cornbread dressing/stuffing/good mush that I MADE MYSELF. No recipe, even. I'm that good.

Aw, man. Looks like everyone ends up bragging after a holiday.

Blogs!

HTT - Organic Edition

2008-11-25T06:10:00.000-06:00

Some guy's tofurkey on Flickr

Things have felt a little dull around here lately. I'd be lying if I said I'm not contemplating quitting blogging. I mean, who doesn't every three months? After a certain point, it's all been said and usually better by someone else. There's some good noise out here, but it's still loud, you know? It's nothing we couldn't live without and replace with too much crafting. But, alas, what would I do with all these thoughts in my head? ("Why do the Duggars have a Johanna and a Joy-Anna? It's the same name!")

So I thought I'd get a little controversial to wake my blog up. Let's talk euthanasia. OK, not that controversial, because the more intellectual topics tend to get less comments. I'm not saying you're not smart, I'm just saying ... look, the Duggars!

In light of the Thanksgiving holiday that is upon us, I thought I'd talk a bit about food. Specifically, vegetarianism and organic food.

Will your turkey be free-range or subbed with tofurkey? Mine will be replaced with mashed potatoes, but only because I'm not a huge fan of turkey or meat as starches taste better. It's nothing ethical; it's just that turkey can taste like barf sometimes.

I like fresh and healthy food. I will never eat a Slim Jim. But I'm not particularly particular about where my food comes from, sometimes out of laziness and sometimes out of ignorance, but mostly because I don't have that personality (or budget) that can obsess about my foods' origins. Lots of my friends and family do, and I love them. I'll eat their organic bananas with glee, but it will taste the same as my regular banana, and I won't feel like my life is being extended. I won't feel smarter. I won't feel safer.

I'll even suggest this: lots of people eat or don't eat certain foods to be cool. I mean, Whole Foods makes me feel hip, too. Other people do it because they are paranoid about death, and I'm, like, your tofu patty will not save you in a car crash. The rest are just trying to make a good decision for themselves and their families, and I respect that. In some cases and foods, I even agree. But as a whole, I'm not totally convinced. I've read enough research to know that more people get sick from eating easily spoiled organic food than ingesting pesticides. And I know that there is not a high level of control in labeling organic food.

As for vegetarianism ... just not my thing. I don't eat a lot of meat by taste preference, but I'm not against it as a whole. I think animals should be treated humanely, but I am not of the mindset that animals are the same as humans. I wish. Then maybe the dumb geese around here would fly somewhere for winter.

Reference all the great books you want that will open my eyes about how my food is raised, sprayed and slaughtered, but it probably won't help. First, those books rarely have a love interest. Second, they are boring. Third, I don't have time to read all the books that would open my eyes. Fourth, bug eyes are ugly.

But what about you?

Do you eat meat?

Do you buy organic?

Why?

And why should (or shouldn't) I?

p.s. I'm taking the Turkey weekend off, so try to generate some sort of comment fight if you can to keep yourselves occupied. May I suggest veal?

p.p.s. I am quitting blogging ... on those days when I don't have anything to say. I think quality always trumps quantity, except when it's costume jewelry. Plus, I have a novel to write. Stephenie who?

Mmm ... pasta with refried beans

2008-11-24T05:51:00.001-06:00

via Flickr

My staple grocery list:
* Pine nuts
* Craisins
* Feta cheese
* Parmesan cheese
* Apples
* Tortillas
* Refried beans
* Cheddar cheese
* Sour cream
* Chicken tenderloins
* Marinara sauce
* Pasta
* Green onions
* Garlic
* Pizza crust
* Popcorn
* Fiber One bars
* Lemons
* Limes
* Yogurt
*Hummus
*Carrots

I don't even know why I make elaborate menus with new fandangled recipes. I wear myself out after about three and spend the rest of the week making pasta, burritos and snobby salads.

p.s. Please don't judge me for my cheese obsession.

p.p.s. What's always on your grocery list?

The SFG

2008-11-21T07:19:00.005-06:00

He's baaaaack!

The seasonal fashion genie came to me in a dream last night, and promised to grant three fabulous fashion wishes to my readers today.

As you know, the SFG is a bit slow when granting wishes, so it's probably best you just order your wishes yourself. (He just sent me a pair of Flojos if that's any indication of his procrastination.)

Here are his selection guidelines:

1. A winter coat

2. A pair of winter shoes

3. A winter accessory

Here are my selections:

1. Soia & Kyo Betina-C wool coat - I'm leaning towards the white, but all colors are lovely.

2. Pink Studio Delila bootie - I originally loathed the ankle boot, but its seasonal persistence has worn me down. I'm in love with several pairs, including one - sit down, quick! - by Crocs. Yeah, weird. Of course, all must be paired with opaque tights. I'm not brave enough for bare legs in Chicago.

3. Sweater Floral Earwarmer by Urban Outfitters - An earwarmer that is cute? Sold.

Now, it's your turn. Share your wishes below, or link to your blog in the comments so we can see their beautificousness. (That's a word. Trust me, I wished for it years ago.)

Is it random if I put it in a list?

2008-11-20T07:04:00.005-06:00

1. Go here. Remember how I said that I wasn't cool enough to take gorgeous pictures of my breakfast on Monday? Well, apparently my bro-in-law is. He also took a sweet picture of "The Bean." You don't know what The Bean is? Let's just say you probably don't take cool pictures of your food either.

2. TV update: Miss Dub responded with a unparalleled level of obedience to my TV restrictions the very day I posted about it. She now watches three shows - after waking, before nap, before bedtime. You can say that's too much TV, but until she has any siblings, lives in a better climate and abides in a space larger than 900 square feet, that's my bad ear, and I can't hear you. I am wondering, however, what you think are the most educational shows on TV. She's in a Diego phase - like, calls me Alicia and counts exclusively in Spanish - but I'm more partial to "Super Why" for its phonetic power. What about you?

3. Did you hear about the Motrin Moms? A lot of hype or justified drama? I'd wait for Hot Topic Tuesday, but then I'd have to rename it Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, We've-Already-Talked-about-This Tuesday, and that's a really long acronym. For the record, I try to limit my protests to ads that are more blatantly offensive, like a dog shooting a grandma. Was is the best ad campaign? No. Was it offensive? For me, not so much, because my back does hurt from lugging Miss Dub's 35 pounds around when she's feeling lazy.

4. The SFG is coming tomorrow. Just in time for Christmas!

5. I like pears.

Chili anyone?

2008-11-19T07:51:00.004-06:00

Oct. 24 - Bring chili to the church Halloween party. (Note: Last year, I whipped up a gourmet white bean chili. I not only didn't win the cook-off contest, but also no one ate it. This year, I put two large cans of Hormel chili in a crock pot and added a few green peppers to make it look homemade. There was no cook-off contest, but someone did email me for the recipe. Point made.)

Nov. 8 - Receive call that there is an unclaimed crock pot in the church kitchen. We put our name on the bottom, but whatever. I make a mental note to pick it up that day, but my mind is distracted by news that the drop-crotch pant is making a comeback.

Nov. 15 - Forget it. Again.

Nov. 17 - Finally remember to pick up the crock pot, which is in the fridge, because THERE IS STILL CHILI IN IT. I contemplate tossing the crock pot, but decide to open the lid and deal with the moldy stench. Except ... there is none. The chili smells like I made it yesterday. I throw it away, despite a temptation to serve it to sweaty teenage boys playing basketball at the church.

Nov. 18 - Still a little freaked out about the super-preservatives used by Hormel. If you hear someone on the phone, it's probably them. They're clearly taking over the world one crock pot at a time. Also, beware of any envelopes that smell like chili powder.

HTT - School Time!

2008-11-18T07:00:00.005-06:00

Like most youngsters, Miss Dub is fairly obsessed with school buses:

"Look, Mommy, a school bus!"
"Look, Mama, a baby bus!"
"Look, mother, gas prices are low enough that I might go to college now."

Stuff like that.

Every time we see a school bus, she says, "I ride a school bus all by myself when I get big ... but you come with me, 'kay?"

And I always respond, "I'll probably drive you, because I'm a weird, obsessive mom like that."

But will I?

That got me thinking for the second time this month. Will I be the mom who drives her kids out of kindness and/or safety concerns? I mean, kids on the back of my middle school bus used to smoke, drink and go to various bases without any intervention. And there aren't any seat belts to keep those naughty hands safe.

At the same time, convenience is my friend. If I ever reach my goal of 20 children, I might not have time to personally transport each kid to school. (Unless I get that reality show I'm after, in which case, we'll hire a driver on TLC's tab.)

Same goes for school lunches. I fancy myself a brown sacker, but will I really have the energy to put together a cohesive lunch with food that kids actually like, or will Miss Dub be the only one pulling out cold refried beans and a spoon? Besides, aren't school lunches, like, all healthy these days? And is it cool to buy your lunch now? (It wasn't when I was younger, so I pretended to be put out, but I secretly loved the french bread pizza and ice-cream scooped mashed potatoes.)

So, tell me, dear friends and (more) seasoned mothers -

School bus: yea or nay?

School lunch: pack it or purchase it?

Dish.

Banana bread french toast

2008-11-17T06:22:00.000-06:00

It is real, my friends, and available at our favorite brunch spot. Everything they have is good. So good that my bro-in-law is insisting we go there right now and get some before he catches his morning flight back to Japan.

I'm going to order the apple cinnamon oatmeal. Just kidding, if you ordered that I wouldn't be your friend. Just kidding, I would be your friend, but I would think in my mind, "Uh, live a little. You can eat oatmeal at home." Just kidding, I would probably say something out loud like, "Wow, you're adventurous." But I'd be sarcastic, and if you didn't get it, I wouldn't be your friend. Just kidding.

I think I'm going to order the Fresca omelet today, or maybe the Southern Benedict. (Please don't read the description, or you might not want to be my friend any more, because you'll know how clogged my arteries are, and you won't want to get into a doomed relationship.)

What would you order?

If I was a fancy blogger - er, flogger? - I would take a picture of it and it would look so cute, with just the right amount of my floral skirt and mustard yellow shoes peeking through. But my food might get cold, plus I'll probably go in too-tight lounge pants with a greasy ponytail. And no one wants to look at that when discussing food. I know, Mr. Dub tells me all the time. Just kidding, he doesn't, but he probably thinks it. Just kidding, I can't read his mind all the time, just most of it.

p.s. What's your favorite breakfast food? Mine is Eggs Benedict. I bought it a friendship charm, I love it so much.

p.p.s. I actually wrote the "just kidding" riff without realizing I stole it from here. Is it plagiarism when its unintentional?

I'm suddenly afraid of heights

2008-11-14T21:18:00.003-06:00

Mr. Dub is on the phone with me right now! (Take that Twitter.)

His brother is in town from Japan, so he was looking up things to do downtown. He found information about visiting the Hancock Tower and ...

Mr. Dub: Guess who does the narration for the audio tour of the Hancock Tower? I'll give you two guesses.

Me: Is it going to be someone you don't expect, who is funny?

Mr. Dub: No, this person is not funny.

Me: Christopher Walken?

Mr. Dub: No, that would be funny.

Me: I don't know, who?

Mr. Dub: David Schwimmer.

Me: What??

Mr. Dub: Could you think of someone more annoying to listen to for 45 minutes?

Me: I really couldn't.

Mr. Dub: Maybe he's a civil servant for Chicago.

It's official: I'm disgusting

2008-11-14T07:14:00.007-06:00

via flickr

So this cold/crud thing is getting really old. I'm under so many layers of sinus pressure that I can't even hear my phone ring, and I've just been pretending to participate in conversations -

You: "Could you bring cookies to an upcoming church social?"
Me: "I love that movie!"

- As a result, I may have committed myself to a few important things that I'm not responsible to remember, so don't call and complain. I won't hear your criticism anyway.

I also can't taste anything very well, which has ruined my favorite hobby and potential occupation: competitive eating. The only way to cut through the mucus is to eat extremely spicy foods, which I already enjoy.

Last night, AFTER dinner, I suddenly turned to Mr. Dub, who was on the phone, and barked, "Go to Taco Bell and get me as many fire sauce packets as possible!" Knowing my gastronomic rage, he said little, put on his coat and left, phone call intact.

He returned with two bean burritos and nine sauce packets. I slurped that stuff right up. I could have had more.

This morning, I'm craving jalapeño poppers.

It's pretty gross, I know, but a girl deserves to taste her food.

I also think they should add a symptom on WebMD under the listing "not sick enough for antibiotics": ability to consume massive amounts of mediocre salsa.

Intervention at my house

2008-11-12T05:15:00.002-06:00

Help!

How apropos that I'm asking for advice a day after giving it. Let's hope you have more insight than I do/did/once pretended.

Miss Dub is addicted to TV. I'm talking hard-core, steal-your momma's-remote, got-the-shakes-when-it's-been-more-than-an-hour-without-Dora, addiction. And I don't know what to do. Watching her watch it makes me feel dumber. I feel like her Harvard scholarship is draining out her eyes. (Or maybe the Fashion Institute. She does have an eye for non-matching coordination.)

I didn't plan to be the mom who lets her baby watch TV, but she took to the small screen like a moth to a flame. At six months, she would giggle along with the Teletubbies, which I only put on so I could make dinner - because at six months, she was all up in my stove top.

Then, we had a rough winter, a rough pregnancy, a rough recovery, a rough day, a rough bout of throat cream, a rough hangnail ... hmmm, I might be rationalizing, but aren't parents supposed to blame their children for their failings? If not, what will Miss Dub get therapy for?

I try to be tough. I've made little paper cut-outs to represent how many shows a day she can watch - sadly, three would be a huge improvement for us - and told her she'll gain or lose them depending on her behavior. That might last a day, as long as we have good weather, a full schedule and lots to do outside the house. But if we are stuck inside the house, fuggetaboutit. After playing dolls, doing a craft, helping me clean, reading books, making another craft, singing, jumping, hiding and seeking, coloring and tickling, she's begging for another show. And I'm begging her to give me some time to do important things, like shower.

I love my Missy, but she craves CONSTANT attention, either via the TV or playing with me. And while I want to enjoy the journey, yadda, yadda, I think I'm a tour guide at this point. I really think most moms don't or can't spend as much one-on-one time with their children as I do with mine. We hang out with friends almost daily, go to museums, spend time outside, play with her dolls (over and over and over), etc. And yet there are still five hours a day that I have no idea what to do with her, except play with those dang dolls.

She has brilliant moments where she gets lost in solitary play, but I can't seem to decipher the magic formula. (Ignoring her? Leaving toys in random places? Hiding in the closet?)

To her credit, she has an insane imagination, is extremely bright and is wonderfully indepedent. She loves educational programming and still can't sit through a movie. But she could watch TV all day long - and, believe me, she asks. ("Watchashow?") At the park. At the store. At home.

Wow, who knew this post would be so long? Maybe I need therapy.

In any event, I'm looking for the following answers:
* How can I limit TV effectively?
* What is an appropriate amount of TV time for a two-year-old in YOUR opinion, not according to some national non-profit association who doesn't know how lazy I can be around 4 p.m.?
* What can I do with her instead of watching TV?
* How much time do you spend on the ground playing with your child? (I probably average 4+ hours a day, and I have to admit 2+ of it is insanely boring.)
* Does this just mean she's going to be a successful television producer? Because I'm, like, totally cool if that's the case.

HTT - Dear Dub

2008-11-11T06:49:00.004-06:00

Several Dubbies have sent me Hot Topic requests as of late, so I thought I'd go Ann Landers on ch'alls with a mom-themed advice column. This advice in no way represents the views of Mrs. Dub, Inc. or its employees. I would also recommend you take it with a grain of salt. And maybe a raspberry lemonade. Also, a sense of humor. Then, add your two-cents in the comments.

_____________________________________

Dear Mrs. Dub,
Is it totally freaky for a mom to sit in the back seat with her kids? Because I have a friend who does it all the time, and it really bothers me. What are your thoughts?
Shotgun in Seattle

Dear Shotgun,
It is freaky. Don't get me wrong, there is an occasional need to sit in the backseat with your kiddos (projectile vomit, large-scale sibling violence, diaper change under seat buckles), but for the most part, an adult should be riding shotters. I, too, have seen some moms who always ride in the back. I'm pretty sure these are the same people who are still spoon-feeding their kids at two years old, forbidding peanut butter until five and cosleeping until 22. Each to her own, as there is clearly a higher level of worry and control required by these personalities, but I can't live like that. I have to maintain my own life and comfort and teach my child some independence (and patience). Also, I usually have to drive and it's really hard for me to reach the gas pedal from the back. I've tried.
MD

_____________________________________

Dear Mrs. Dub,
I have a friend who nurses her family members' children when she babysits them. I find this disturbing, but what do you think? Sweet or seriously wrong?
Hooter-Hater

Dear HH,
I'm going to go with the latter. I nursed my Miss Dub, so I'm all for breastfeeding, but the thought of someone else providing their "services" is a little weird for me. Maybe if it was a really close family member and it was an emergency, I could appreciate it; but if this is a hobby, it strikes me as strange. There's something so intimate (albeit non-sexual) about nursing, so it feels a little intrusive to me, but your friend probably thinks it's all hip and modern and makes her own baby food. Again, good for her, as long as she recognizes that it's kind of weird to the rest of us. And that she needs to keep her decotellage to herself when my kids come to play.
MD

_____________________________________

Dear Dubby,
I just took my sons to playgroup, and they came home black and blue. How do I kindly tell my friend that her kids are savages? I really like her; I just can't let my boys be punching bags.
Passive Aggressive in Provo

Dear PAP,
Um ... were you under some impression that I have the ability to stand up to others? Because I usually let people walk all over for me and then ask, "Can I do anything else?" I'm terrible about confrontation, especially with friends. It's not about being afraid to voice my opinion - clearly I'm verbose - it's that I hate feeling awkward, and such incidents are awkward accelerants. However, if your kids are really getting hurt, you do have to say something. A good advice giver would recommend you call and kindly let her know that their behavior is unacceptable. I, however, recommend that you play dumb and say things like, "Where in the world did he get this bruise? Did you see him fall somewhere? I can't imagine it would be your kids, right? They're not aggressive, are they?" Then, joke about them being monsters in a voice that is equal parts light and serious. Your friend won't know if you are joking, but will still feel bad. She'll try harder to control her kids, but you never have to have an actual conversation about it. A perfect passive-aggressive solution.
MD

_____________________________________

What thinks ye?

Mrs. Dub goes to White Castle

2008-11-10T06:49:00.008-06:00

Being sick really sucks the blog post material out of you. I mean, since I last posted about being sick, I've been sick and ... I've been sick. I have consumed two packages of cough drops, leaving my tongue a little raw and my teeth covered in a strange film. Now that I think about it, there are a few things I've done this weekend that I'm not too proud to share, mostly because I have no filter:

* Slept with toilet paper twisted up one nostril to absorb the endless snot river.

* Took Miss Dub through the White Castle drive-through for dinner at 4 p.m. just because I'd never been to one. (And in a backwards way, I though that eating there would magically qualify us to move now that the Chicago weather is officially freeze-your-unmentionables cold. So far, no job offers.) By the way, the sliders are disgusting, though the heavy dehydrated onion flavor really cut through my cold.

* Applied to several jobs online with the caveat that I have to work from home during nap and bedtime hours. Surprisingly, no one is interested, though one company's president emailed to tell me I seemed like a "catch," and he was bummed I wasn't more flexible. Can I put that on a resume? Also, any telecommute writing/PR jobs with ridiculous pay and benefits out there? Any telecommute writing/PR jobs with semi-ridiculous pay and benefits? Any free sliders?

* Did not go to the grocery store (again), leaving us to scavenge for food yesterday. Thankfully, some friends were prompted to invite us over for dinner, where Miss Dub and I proceeded to hack a lung into their gravy.

* Became suddenly poor. Our continuing realization that student loans are going to take forever to pay off put us into a 1950s paranoid mindset, where everything we do/have/are is too expensive. We had a little pity party, I'll be honest. There was talk of boiling a ham bone. (Almost.) It's not that bad, but I might be motivated to avoid Target for a week. (Almost.) And we're probably going to move into a cheaper apartment, unless your grandma is about to die and wants to give us her house. We're very clean.

* Ate at White Castle. Did I say that already?

Sick Day

2008-11-07T06:54:00.003-06:00

I called in sick today, but my boss said I had to come in and get her a cup of milk first. Work!

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I am enamored with motherhood. I want to melt it, put it in a needle and inject it straight into my veins.

The other one percent I think, "Can't a girl just sleep in?" (Or shop alone, or focus on something for ten minutes straight, or talk on the phone, or inject motherhood into my veins in peace.)

And, wouldn't you know it, we're almost out of milk.

My boss is going to kill me.

Who am I? Lucy Ricardo?

2008-11-06T06:23:00.001-06:00

So Miss Dub had her birthday party last Thursday with one of her besties by the same name. (And we thought we were so original.) For the sake of her pseudonym, I'll just say the party was a play on the word "Halloween." Clever, huh?

Anyway, being that I was Design Mom-ing it last week, I got in my mind that I would make a couple cute, kiddie recipes I'd recently seen. I'm not one for pre-party stress, so I assure my motives were not to impress but to just enjoy myself in the kitchen. Foolish, foolish me.

First, I went to make this, using two bundt cakes to make a pumpkin. When I went to level the cakes, one piece fell off. Not deterred, I tried to frost it back together, which sorta worked. But when I went to drizzle the orange frosting on top, the pressure caused half the layered cake to slide into my sink. I paused for about ten seconds and immediately pushed the whole thing down the disposal. I mean, what was the point of staring at it, other than to confirm someone put a baking curse on me?

Second, I went to make these adorable cupcake pops by Bakerella, which I've been eyeing for sooo long. (Extra ooos = a long time.) I thought I knew a shortcut using my daisy mini-cupcake pan. Um, no. So I quickly ran to the store and got all the goods to make them the hard way. The good news? They're not that hard to make, and they are a-dorable. Bad news? In my rush, I accidentally added twice as much frosting to the crumbled cake than needed. This still could have worked, but I didn't have enough time for the balls to freeze. I found this out when I went to dip the top half and it began to disintegrate into my almond bark. Grr. I immediately swept them up and threw them in the trash. No use in eating half-formed cupcake balls unless you forgot to make dinner.

Third, I made a delicious pumpkin dip that I found here. Easy. Good. Unfortunately, I did not seal the bowl properly and it spilled on my way out the door. Huge mess, but it smelled good.

So, ten minutes before party time, I ran to the store and grabbed some mini cupcakes and a chipotle dip to supplement my other goodies from a local bakery. Of course, the kids didn't care. In fact, they hardly ate a thing. As a result, I've been forcing Mr. Dub to eat 4-5 cupcakes a night to appease my financial guilt.

Did I want to cry? Yes. Did I shed one tear? No. This is big for me, people, as stress breakdowns are a genetic tendency in my family. I just kept thinking of a recent speech I heard, where a man quoted his mother, who used to say, "Come what may, and love it." Meaning, whatever happens, laugh it off and move forward.

Accidents happen, cakes break and dips spill, this much is for sure. But making it through life with our humor intact isn't a guarantee.

Just a thought.

Now, please don't tell Design Mom. I don't want her deleting my posts.

11.4.08

2008-11-05T00:06:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was pretty magical.

The weather in Illinois was insanely warm with only a hint of chill. Sunny. Breezy. I went with a friend to the zoo, and it was surreally picturesque. One of those days that you think, "If only I could bottle this essence and inhale it in February." And then an elephant walked by. Cool.

Oh, and I voted. And I watched misty-eyed as our nation voted in its first black president. No matter where you stood in this election, I hope you felt proud of that fact. I know I did.

I feel good. I feel hope for our country. I'm not worried.

What are you feeling? (Be honest. It's been a long two years; it's a lot to expect you to be over it today.)

Now, just a year before they start campaigning again.

p.s. My condolences to all the McCain peeps. But wouldn't he be the perfect person to sell an industrial strength juicer? I would buy that sucker!

p.p.s. I am watching President Obama's acceptance speech as I blog this, and I just starting singing, "Steadman loooooves Obama" in my best falsetto. It made Mr. Dub chuckle. That isn't easy to do. Talk about an election day miracle.

HTT - Election Edition

2008-11-04T05:57:00.000-06:00

Too bad it's not a monarchy. Talk about a good looking royal family!

It's here. The big day.

(No, not that day, though I do hope that miniature chimpanzees will open a restaurant in the near future.)

I think there's been enough political discussion in the webosphere as of late to last us a lifetime, so I won't go there completely.

I don't want to know who you voted for ... 'cause, frankly, it's too late at this point. And I probably voted for someone different. Maybe. Who knows? Look, it's Elvis!

But I do want to know IF you voted and WHY - not just in this election, but why you think it's important to vote period.

As for me, I do it because I believe that I can't complain about my country or its leadership unless I'm involved in its process. I also believe that freedom is a gift and voting is power. Because cherishing our rights is almost as important as defining them.

Got it?

Go!

And we didn't even egg anyone

2008-11-03T07:11:00.007-06:00

Our Halloween was above average, if you ask me. If you ask Miss Dub, however, she'll insist it's still coming up. Maybe because she immediately forgot about her candy loot, and I'm not reminding her. And, yes, I did eat her Payday bars. I'm not afraid to slum it.

Mr. Dub insists on going as a Jared Hess character every year, which no one gets, because normal people don't watch his movies. (Remember last year?) Here he is as the early Nacho Libre, complete with tight sweats and a (not pictured) boxy mustache. I refused to kiss him for a good day on grounds that mustaches are ugly and a precursor to crime, but he's kinda cute so I gave in. And then he shaved it, hallelujah.

Miss Dub got sick of her Shrek costume, so we dressed her up as a ballerina with stuff from her closet. And (insert heavens parting) it was so much cuter than that poorly made, commercialized costume she'd been sporting, mostly because it cost $10. I mean, she's never even seen Shrek; she just likes to check it out from the library to hold the case. So I'm never going to buy a costume again. I'm also never going to make one. I'm just going to try and buy her clothes that can alternate as costumes. So if you see my child at a park wearing the bottom half of a horse as pants, you'll understand.

Mrs. Dub* still isn't sure what she dressed as, except that it involved a lot of workout gear from the home, including an ankle bandage. Substitute gym teacher was one idea. Short WNBA player was another. Somebody needs to get in shape was another. But the headband was admittedly awesome. (Un)fortunately, I'm always the picture taker, so you'll just have to settle for a little ONJ.

The highlight of the night was taking Miss Dub trick-or-treating for the first time. She totally got the hang of it. She was, however, a little confused why people with giant bowls of candy were rationing it. She managed to sneak back into line a few times and get some extra goodies. Like I was going to stop her. Well done, little one! After a few houses, I said to her, "Wow, that's a lot of candy." She looked up ticked and said, "No, it's not. It's only three!" like the whole night was a huge waste of time. But by the end of our half-mile journey, she turned to me and said, "This pail is too heavy; I've got to sit down." So I guess that means it was a success.

How was your H-day?

*Wasn't that cool how I spoke about myself in the third person? I know!

Happy Hollow-Weenie!

2008-10-31T00:00:00.000-05:00

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

What are you being this year?

Have you heard I'm over at Design Mom?

What did the butcher say when he handed his customer the empty frankfurter?

Bonus Feature!

2008-10-30T06:03:00.000-05:00

So this Design Mom post didn't quite make the cut, mostly because I got lazy and forgot to send it over yesterday. Happens. But that doesn't mean we can't get all aesthetic over here. Take a looky:

Miss Dub had her second birthday last Saturday. Her big wish: to go to Medieval Times with two of her adult friends. What can I say? She's a special little girl, and I'm president of her fan club.

She's also a very tall little girl. As a result, I'm thinking about upgrading her nighttime digs to a toddler bed. She hasn't tried to climb out of her crib – daredevil antics aren't her thing; she's more of a mental wizard – but I feel like her maturing spirit is incompatible with her infantile surroundings.

The only problem is that so many toddler beds look like dollhouse furniture. I appreciate their diminutive size and low stature, but I don't want her bed to look cheap. I also don't want it to look frilly or babyish.

And while I could complain that it's really hard to find a toddler bed meeting these standards, that's just not true. Even Walmart has a few good options, and I generally try to avoid that place (as not to offend my bestie, Target). So the bigger challenge is picking one I really love that's in my price range.

Here are my top picks:

{1. This bed frame by Pkolino looks like a puzzle. I like puzzles.

2. Leave it to Ikea to come up with something equal parts practical and whimsical:
the Mammut bed.

3. This Da Vinci Modena bed would work in 90 percent of kids' bedrooms.
(I wouldn't quote me on that.)}

{1. Mr. Dub likes this bed by Newco, and I don't blame him.
The brown ultrasuede is unisex and easy to clean.

2. I know this Kidcraft bed is a bit much, but with some romantic bedding I think it could be fanciful.

3. Something about the simple metal frame on the extendable Minnen bed by Ikea makes me think of orphans. And don't all little girls wish they were Annie at some point?}

What thinks ye?

They put caramel in it. Caramel!

2008-10-28T23:43:00.001-05:00

I hate it when I compose a blog in my head, only to have reality go worse.

Just tonight I was driving over to Barnes & Noble, thinking about how I would write a blog while sipping caramel apple cider. How scenic is that? I might as well be Reese Witherspoon, except that Jake Gyllenhaal seems clingy, and I like my space when sleeping.

But then I got there and found out that their free WiFi is actually only free to AT&T users. The rest of us suckers have to pay $4 for two hours. Sorry, but I was saving that money to buy an overpriced caramel apple cider. Except that Starbucks no longer carries that drink. Then, when I said I would settle for a creme frapuccino (my other fave), the workers looked at me like I was crazy - and I promise it had nothing to do with the refried beans crusted on my lounge pants; it's because they'd never heard of it. A Starbucks beverage. You know, the only one without caffeine in it, besides hot chocolate?

So I went home. (I hate hot chocolate. It tastes like melted gold.)

It would have been nice to get some work done in an adult atmosphere, especially since I've been up since 4 a.m. Miss Dub woke me up at that unsightly hour so she could tell me that she has yellow hair and that we forgot to buy bananas at Target yesterday. Duly noted.

But sometimes life doesn't work out like a blog post. Sometimes they don't have your drink. Sometimes you have to go home and as a result get to spend some quiet time with your husband. Sometimes you eat pretzels and frosting instead. Sometimes you blog about what didn't happen and realize that it's not that big of a deal. Tomorrow will be another day and another post. Today is already a memory, and it's a pretty good one.

Still, it's really good apple cider.

HTT - Halloween

2008-10-28T06:18:00.001-05:00

Happy Halloween? via BHG

Here I am, the reigning queen of controversy - move over, Nancy Grace - and I was totally surprised when I read this post. Of course, I'd heard that some people don't celebrate Halloween because of its pagan origin, but I kind of forgot when people starting talking about saving whales again.

Clearly, I'm a very religious person with strong Christian values. Yet, it's never crossed my mind to ditch Halloween. I don't know a lot about its historic origins, but I'm not really concerned because I see its modern application: FUN. It's just a day to dress up, pretend and eat a lot of sweets. It's a holiday, not a celebration of evil, at least at my house.

I worry more about Halloween for safety reasons - candy from strangers, walking at night, the rise in provocative female costumes. (If I see one more sexy nurse this year, I will lose 20 pounds. So, I hope I see one.) But ultimately there's something comforting that we still unite as a community to get and give candy.

The point is, I'm happy to let Miss Dub trick-or-treat and celebrate the season. It will forever be tied to her birthday, so she better like it. Most kids do. And most parents (myself included) read too much into these things. We're so eager to be good parents that we sometimes become overreactive parents. Teaching your kid good values is one thing; stretching to find bad morals is another.

That said, I don't like super gory costumes or celebrations. Anything that looks like Saw:4 gives me the heebs. And I'm not fond of small children depicting something evil. But overall, Halloween is a good time. I even like those weird peanut butter taffies that come in black and orange wrappers.

But what do you think?

Do you like or loathe Halloween?

Do you let your kids trick-or-treat?

p.s. More on Halloween over at Design Mom.

It's my birthday, and all I got was this lousy blog post

2008-10-27T07:49:00.008-05:00

She's two!

Miss Dub's birthday weekend was off the hiz-ook, as the adults trying to sound young are saying these days. She seemed to really enjoy the attention, special activities and CUPCAKES!, which are right up there for her with CANDY!.

When she woke up on Saturday, we rang my parents on the webcam and had them watch Miss Dub open her presents, since my dad is still recovering from his esophagusripoutamy (medical term) and couldn't be here for the big day.

The first present she opened was an outfit from my mom. Thinking she'd be a bit disappointed since she's still in the "clothes are foolish invention, I'd rather be naaaaked!" stage, I thought she'd move right on to the next present. Oh no, she stripped right down and changed, while squealing, "Clothes!!!" like I'd never dressed her in anything but a paper bag. And I swear, that was only, like, once.

She then proceeded to give all of her gifts this same kind of individual attention. And I would be lying if I said she didn't get 10+ gifts - and only one was from her parents, because we're cheap jerks. So thanks everyone else for spoiling my child on your dime.

(Aside: Earlier this week, a package arrived in the mail from Mr. Dub's parents, The Original Dubs, and after setting it aside for a moment and getting distracted by something important like my split ends, I found Miss Dub playing with two new puppies in a chic, portable carrier. Yeah, she opened it. Without permission. And I was like, "whatevz," because as much as I try, I'm just not much of a disciplinarian. Or sous chef.)

The evening was spent per her request at Medieval Times with two of our adult friends. The whole jousting and eating with your hands combo seemed to thrill her once again, thus dooming us to a life of role-playing games. (If you haven't caught on, I'm really scared of role-playing games and the social awkwardness they encourage. I think they are the greatest threat to our nation next to Applebee's.)

Anyway, the whole point is that she had a great day. She's really settling in to her role as a toddler. She whined most of yesterday and slept in until 7:30 this morning. She'll be asking for a cell phone in no time.

Only bummer is that there is no way I can call her a baby anymore. So now I'm really hankering for a baby, even though my uterus has other plans. As a result, I'd like you to be on the lookout for newborns. If you see one unattended, please mail it to me.

My thanks in advance.

p.s. Join me at Design Mom this week. (I know!)

You will die of shock when you read this

2008-10-24T07:02:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry to blow your minds so early in the morning, but I have to announce that Miss Dub will be TWO years old tomorrow!

I'll give you a moment to compose yourselves, because I, too, am blown away that my sweet little baby is becoming a woman.

They same time flies by with your kids (and well everything else, too, because time is pretty consistent), but it's hard to believe on those nights when your child is waking up every hour for a little nursing nibble. But it does (it DOES!) fly by, and before you know it, she'll be telling me how unfair I am and how she's not going to say sorry because she isn't, so THERE. And then she'll turn four.

If you haven't caught on yet, I'm pretty much obsessed with my daughter. We've had the relationship of two old friends since the day she arrived. She's always been very wise, even though she loves to pick her nose and talk about her "poopies." ("This one's a slippery one, mommy," she warned me yesterday.)

She is such a fun girl with a spunky personality and innate sense of compassion. She is happy and willing. She is loving and tender. She is unique. She is special. She is mine.

I often try to post about motherhood. I want to simply declare its beauty in a way that you can capture its intensity and joy, but I can't, because there are no words that can accurately describe the true ecstasy it is to love someone so unconditionally, and the deep duty it is to be responsible for another's welfare.

So I'll just tell you this: I love my little girl. I was never complete until she was. She is joy. She is goodness. She is Miss Dub, and she is almost two.

Happy Birthday, pumpkin!

p.s. For your viewing pleasure, here's a snippet of the little Miss:

School time!

2008-10-23T07:44:00.004-05:00

Miss Dub is all about "school time" these days. It started as my pathetic attempt to teach her something educational during the day, rather than just feed her random tidbits of information that comes back to bite me at inappropriate times. ("Look at my mommy's wart!" she proudly declares at the checkout counter. Or, "High five, Jesus!" she shouts during our church's sacrament.)

So we started to talk about a letter each day, but she kind of got stuck on E for some crazy reason that may or may not have to do with its relationship to her name. And then that somehow evolved into her copiously drawing the outline of her hand, though she will NOT allow you to turn it into a turkey, thus crushing my lifelong dream.

All of this has given her a major obsession with singing the ABC song, with some accuracy. Sure, she always skips H, but let's be honest, there are a lot of weird people out there who don't even pronounce it ("UGE!"), so who really needs it?

Yesterday, we went on our biweekly trip to Barnes & Noble, where Miss Dub plays on the stage while I read trashy tabloid magazines that shall not be named, but kindly remind me that stars are just like us.

She got up on the stage and shouted, "Hey everybody, it's time for my ABC song!" She then began to sing it at rapid-fire pace, over and over and over and over. Then she announced that she had a song to sing about Barnes and "Nobles" -

(Insert infamous childhood memory:) As a toddler, I told my parents that I was going to tell them a funny joke. I then proceeded to shout, "ABC and chicken, chicken, chicken," because chickens are, like, sooo funny.

- Miss Dub then starting serenading us with, "ABC and trains and books and Barnes and Nobles is the next time you sing with me."

Then she turned to me and said, "I just joking, mama."

Runs in the family.

p.s. NO, I couldn't think of anything to post today, but look at how I just wasted nine paragraphs of your life. I should be nominated for some sort of award or edible prize.

p.p.s. Make that ten paragraphs.

HTT - Home Sweet Home

2008-10-21T07:17:00.000-05:00

Iceland, via Flickr

Recently, I spoke to a woman who used to live in Maine. (Perhaps you remember my recent obsession with Maine?) She actually grew up in the West, but her ancestors were from Maine, and when she became a young adult, she said, "It was as if their bones were calling to me." Within 24 hours of moving out there, she said she felt like she was finally home.

Sounds a bit melodramatic in print, but it was a remarkable declaration to me. I grew up in Arizona, but I don't know that it ever felt like "home." And I've lived in Illinois for 3+ years, but it still doesn't feel like "home," even though I'd be happy to live here for years to come. (For a very large sum of money and an industrial tortilla press.)

It got me thinking. Where is home, if by that you mean a place that speaks to you; a place where you always feel happy and centered? You don't have to live there, but you must love going there.

And here it is for me (drum roll please!): Kanab, Utah.

OK, I'm joking. No offense to the kind residents of Kanab. I remember when you had your big traffic light unveiling ceremony. It was very emotional (and followed by a trip to the local hangout, Subway).

So here it is: Tuscany.

OK, another joke, considering I've never been to Europe, but I have a funny feeling that 70 percent of women over 30 would list this as their "home" based on best-selling novels and a few Diane Laine movies.

Seriously, here it is: San Diego.

Maybe not the actual city of San Diego, but one of the beachside towns in the area. I think. I always feel connected to life when I'm in the vicinity.

Or maybe its Ojai, California. Or Santa Fe, New Mexico. (Possibly Iceland.)

Where is your "home"?

I should patent this stuff!

2008-10-20T07:22:00.000-05:00

I've been pondering a bit lately, and I think I've unlocked the secret to happiness. (I know, good for me, huh?) Here it is:

1. Love yourself now
2. Put others' needs before your wants
3. Be a little better every day

Am I right, or am I right?

Scientific proof that Arizona is a desert

2008-10-17T07:39:00.006-05:00

Growing up in Arizona, I would get really ticked when people would call it a desert. I mean, yeah, we had cacti and rock landscapes, but there is also grass and trees and other green vegetation. It was once a desert, I told myself, but modern man had tamed it.

It also ticked me off when people said we had no seasons. Because, let me tell you, I was freezing in the winter! And it seemed like October had an autumnal glow to me.

I faithfully read the newspaper - (Yeah, I was a strange kid. I also sent around a petition to vote in my kindergarten class) - and one Sunday they had comments from children in England regarding their ideas of what Arizona looked like:

"A bunch of cowboys and horses," said one (I think).

"Tumbleweeds and adobe homes," said another (probably).

I was so incensed. Please, we drove cars and lived in tract homes like the rest of civilized society, I thought. The British are so pretentious with their snarky accents and disregard for dental work!

And then I went away for college to mountainous Utah and came back for Christmas:

"Holy cow, this place is a desert!" I declared.

Everywhere I went I saw horses and tumbleweeds and adobe homes.

And while I love the beauty of the desert, let's be frank: Arizona is NOT green. There are touches of it, but it's pretty much brown. And as for seasons - not so much, my friends.

Need evidence?

Here's Arizona's Desert Botanical Garden in October:

Some dude on the Internet took this picture.

Here's the Chicago Botanic Garden last week:

Some dude who sleeps in my bed took this picture.

I love you Arizona, but you are indeed a desert, and there's no shame in that.

Amen.

p.s.
Dear Illinois,
Fall redeems you.
Don't tick me off with a nasty winter.
Love,
Mrs. Dub

True story involving underwear

2008-10-16T07:31:00.005-05:00

Picture this: I'm seven months pregnant and HUGE. Like, so huge that I don't even think people will make comments like, "You weren't that big." 'Cause I was. And it was the first time I was seeing my family members in my pregnant glory, so I was trying to feel somewhat cute amid my heartburn.

We went to the airport to pick up one of my sisters who had flown in for my baby shower. She would later say, "Wow, I didn't know you would be so big already." Point made yet?

While we waited for her much delayed flight, I went to "powder my nose." (Strange phrase that one. I find it more embarrassing to over-powder one's nose than to relieve one's bladder.) As I was washing my hands, I sensed several people watching me. Each would stop and look at me, then walk away. (Apparently I'm a slow hand washer.)

Finally, as I exited the door, a woman ran up to me and said, "I have to tell you, your skirt is tucked into your underwear."

And it was. Somehow my skirt had gotten tucked into the back band of my undergarments, and I hadn't noticed that my back half was totally exposed. That part remains a mystery, but I imagine my very pregnant body had lost some feeling in certain burdened areas, like my lower half.

I quickly untucked my skirt, all while cursing the women who had said nothing. Is there no secret bathroom sisterhood these days? Will no one tell you when you have spinach in your teeth or a tag on your clothes? Because, let me tell you, I'm that person. I'm not going to be rude or condescending, but I will happily go up to a stranger and notify her of an appearance emergency. Isn't that what America is all about?

What about you? Are you a helper or a watcher?

Just curious.

p.s. I was HUGE!

p.p.s. I wanted to post this picture, but took pity on the poor gal.

How I know that we spend $20 a month on treats

2008-10-15T06:56:00.004-05:00

So props to me.

After five years of saying we would do it, I finally budgeted, using this blessed site. Amen.

I should interrupt this post to let you know that Mr. Dub and I had to speak at church this past Sunday. My talk was doctrinal. Mr. Dub's talk was comical. Let's just say there was a reference to Ryan Seacrest's hair. (And we don't even watch "American Idol.") But Mr. Dub has a reputation for being funny and for filling his talks with half-truths. Like the time he got up and told everyone that we met speed dating. So now half of our congregation thinks we're hilarious and the other half thinks we met speeding dating. Way to go, honey.

Oops. I'm interrupting my interruption. The point is that he used our poor budgeting abilities as an example of procrastination. And in his humorous way, he accidentally implied that we are ridiculously spend-happy, which is totally not (completely) true. So now half the congregation thinks he's crazy and the other half thinks it's my fault, which is probably true.

Here's the good news, confirmed by my budget: we have more money than I thought. Here's the bad news: we don't have a lot more. So now we have to be a bit more careful to replenish our savings and pay off our student loans.

It's kinda bumming me out. I don't want to be that girl who says she can't go out to lunch because she has to eat her ramen noodles with dehydrated milk. Or the wife who tells everyone they can't have seconds because I have to freeze the rest of our tater tot casserole. Or, and this is where you might get offended, the girl who has to say no to a clearance clothing item. I know, I just threw up in my mouth.

Thank goodness I'm not that popular. Can you imagine how hard budgeting would be if Madonna and I were still on speaking terms?

Anyway, I've got a challenge on my hands. Though, to be honest, the real culprit in our finances is expensive groceries - back to coupons, blurg! - and my insane insurance premium since I'm a medical disaster. Yeah, Mr. Dub's work seems to think spouse coverage is optional.

So I've set some pretty moderate budgeting restrictions on myself this month. Baby steps, right?

Then again, I could just write a best-selling novel or win the HGTV Dream Home next year. These are always my back-up financial strategies. But, really, don't you think I deserve that house?

HTT: Your candidate in one sentence

2008-10-14T07:18:00.000-05:00

This one's simple.

Think about who you are voting for president. (Got it?)

Now, in ONE sentence, tell us why you think your dude is the one for the job.

By the way, run-on sentences are just rude. Brevity is a virtue.

Go!

p.s. Last Election HTT, I promise. I mean, is it over yet or is it over yet?

A child's prayer

2008-10-13T06:26:00.000-05:00

Miss Dub is starting to say her own prayers. But "her own," I mean we whisper (mostly appropriate) things into her ear and she repeats them back with some accuracy.

The other day, however, I caught her kneeling on the ground and saying a prayer while the TV was on ...

Miss Dub: "Amen!"

Me: "Did you say a prayer all by yourself?"

Miss Dub: "Yes!"

Me: "What did you say in your prayer?"

Miss Dub: "Heavenly Father, please turn on 'Berenstain Bears.' Jesus. Amen."

Me: (turning on the Berenstain Bears)

Miss Dub: "See, Jesus? It works!"

Talk about a busy work schedule!

2008-10-10T07:32:00.001-05:00

Can't blog today.

Too much fun to be had.

p.s. I love being a mom.

p.p.s. I love being her mom.

Zee smiles

2008-10-09T06:02:00.001-05:00

The other day I was going through Baby Zee's box.

(Miss Dub and I like to go through her things and remember her short life. It doesn't make me sad anymore, but it does make me miss her. I still think about her every day, but I don't think about her every hour, and that's progress. Sometimes it seems impossible to believe that we survived such a tragic experience; other times, it just seems like something we had to do to be who we are.)

As usual, we ended by looking at her picture, taken by some anonymous photographer who captured her shortly after life. (Thank you!) I love this picture. Her face is peaceful and her arms are crossed over a small blanket the hospital donated. I won't share it here because she won't look like a normal baby to some of you, and I can't have her seen through scientific eyes. The only acceptable adjectives when viewing it are "cute," or "perfect," or maybe, "Look at that schnoz!" Let me tell you, she got the mother of all Dub noses.

When I went to put it back in its paper frame, I discovered that there were more pictures behind it. More pictures! I hate even typing that because I know there are mothers out there who didn't get pictures of their small babies, and I feel bad having any, much less a secret supply. But I cannot express the joy I felt when I found them. In one of them her mouth is open in a smile, with her arms raised like she's ready for a fight. She's adorable. Cute. Perfect. And she looks like her daddy.

So now I find myself sneaking back to the box throughout the day to sneak a peek at that smile. If you could see the frame, you would wonder why I didn't discover the pictures immediately - but I know better. I know that Zee wanted me to see her serious side when my heart was heavy with sadness. But now that it's full with gratitude, she's ready to have fun. So am I.

I didn't plan for life to go this way. I didn't have a clue this year would throw me through a meat grinder. And that's why it's been so wonderful, though I haven't always felt happy. I wasn't ready for a trial, so I have been able to truly feel this experience. There has been true sorrow and true joy, which has made life intense for me. And while I'm grateful for more mellow times, I'm so glad to know what life feels like: It often hurts, it's rarely predictable, but it's always real.

Did I mention how cute she is?

p.s. If you have any questions about Baby Zee, infant loss, triploidy or partial molar pregnancy, post them in your comment. I'd love to answer them where appropriate.

All apologies

2008-10-08T07:01:00.000-05:00

Maybe it has something to do with keeping her in a cage?

My family has an annoying genetic tendency to apologize. All the time. For things for which we're not responsible. Yeah, it can get old, both for us and for anyone who has spent more than five minutes near us.

You step on my toe, and I'll apologize for having feet. You come late to visit, and I'll apologize for the traffic. It sounds foolish when I write it, but it just seems like the polite thing to do. Plus, it quickly establishes my sympathy for any grievances you might have. A proper way of saying, "Dude, I know!"

Recently, Miss Dub has been apologizing. Often for bad behavior, like whining, kicking and, well, being almost two years old. On several occasions, however, she's apologized for things that aren't her fault. Like when I forgot to buy something at the store. "Sorry, Mama!" she shouted. And when I bumped her head accidentally. "Sorry, Mama!" she lamented.

Shoot. I really was hoping that I would have at least one more year before my child would exhibit signs that I'd doomed her for life. So much for the honeymoon.

HTT: The BIG question

2008-10-07T06:08:00.001-05:00

What is your favorite blog?*

* If you say me, I will pretend to be mad.**

** But seriously, don't say me.

Don't say anything at all!

2008-10-06T06:34:00.000-05:00

This weekend was my church's semiannual conference.

If you aren't up for 8+ hours of uplifting, let me summarize it for you: Be nice.

Here's the thing, I'm a pretty nice person. I hope that's coming through on my blog, despite my sarcasm and passionate viewpoints. I'll send you an E-card if you don't believe me. I mean, I would let you cut in line and wouldn't make a scene about it, but I would complain about it behind your back or hold your hand to make you feel uncomfortable. Stuff like that. So I'm clearly turning my cheek the wrong way.

Also, I sometimes gossip and occasionally judge (usually when I think someone is judging someone else, which is irony at its satanic worst). I keep telling myself that I'm not going to, but I often fool myself into thinking I'm stating fact - i.e. She loves John Mayer - when I'm actually backdoor judging (because we all know that John Mayer thinks he's a 70-year-old black man). See?

Anyway, I felt bad - good-bad. You know, the kind of guilt that spurs you on to better behavior, rather than leaving you dispondent and questioning your recent purchase of ankle boots. It really made me want to be nicer and more positive. And to hold my tongue, because so much of my criticism comes when I'm trying to fill uncomfortable silence. (My name is Mrs Dub, and I have a talking problem.)

I'm happy to say that I'm naturally kind to friends and strangers and would for reals give you the shirt off my back, if you don't mind a few edible stains. I usually give people the benefit of the doubt. And I refuse to leave anyone out on purpose, whether or not I really like them. But I do talk too negatively about people and issues, especially politics and celebrities. I need to focus on the positive in all things and ignore the negative aspects. Life is too short to drink from a half-empty glass.

(This could make Hot Topic Tuesday a bit tricky, but I don't want to throw the baby out with the bath water, whatever that means. So bear with me.)

Finally, here's my favorite quote from the women's broadcast we had last month:
"In the end, the number of prayers we say may contribute to our happiness, but the number of prayers we answer may be of even greater importance. Let us open our eyes and see the heavy hearts, notice the loneliness and despair; let us feel the silent prayers of others around us, and let us be an instrument in the hands of the Lord to answer those prayers."

Word.

Let's move to Guam!

2008-10-03T05:41:00.000-05:00

I have a very vivid imagination. This is good sometimes, like when I look in the mirror and see a tiny blond woman with delicate accessories staring back at me. This is bad at other times, like when I would take an aptitude test in high school and be matched to every single job on the list, including fruit sorter. Because I would read the question: "Does organizing montonous items for minimal pay excite you?" and think, "Well, if I was sorting fresh strawberries, and I lived in a tiny chateau in southern France and rode a vintage bicycle to my humble job, then, yessiree, I sure would love me some monotonous organizing!"

Recently, I read a book set in Maine. I've never been to Maine. Frankly, I didn't like the book. But suddenly I had a hankering to live in a small coastal town in Maine, preferably near a bay. There are lots of bays in Maine. And crabs. Don't you just love crabs? They're, like, so aquatic.

Anyway, that fantasy has morphed into an obsession with living in a small town. I've been looking up random rural towns in Illinois and checking out the real estate. I kid you not when I say I found a sweet mid-century modern home for $84,000. You can't even buy dinner in downtown Chicago for that price. I love the idea of having nothing around, forcing me into a simpler life that would probably involve more TV, Web-surfing and, eventually, antidepressants. But doesn't it sound charming in theory?

Now, I found this blog, and suddenly I feel like I should move to Mexico City and knit things. Colorful things. And make tortillas to put in them. Or put them inside tortillas, but I have a funny feeling that wouldn't take off.

Unfortunately, for all my imagining and passion, I'm pretty lazy about taking action. If you call me up and offer me an opportunity, I will take it, probably without the proper prayer/meditation/rational thought required. However, I'm not great at making things happen myself. I'll just fantasize for a few days, become a mini-expert on the area, possibly send out a few resumes and then move on to other things. All while filling my suburban apartment with convenience and mediocrity, even though I daydream of creativity and adventure. And all that other pretty stuff that doesn't matter in life but looks so stinking pretty I could eat it (with tortillas).

Just thought you should know this about me. I hope we can still be friends.

What is this world coming to?

2008-10-01T06:33:00.000-05:00

... when Miss Dub begs me to buy her Dora the Explorer-themed edamame?

HTT: Creamslush for President!

2008-09-30T05:11:00.000-05:00

I don't mean to freak you all out, but the election is a mere FIVE weeks away.

Do you know who you are voting for?

Because, to be honest, I don't, though I'm vacillating between Olympia Dukakis and those guys on the Sonic commercials.

What about you?

Has this been an easy decision for you, or are you still undecided?

Anniversary Update

2008-09-29T07:23:00.003-05:00

Here's what we had planned for our anniversary: A couples massage followed by dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant.

Here's what we did instead: Made eggs benedict with Miss Dub. And homemade banana ice cream. (Of which I ate a ridiculous amount and have been nursing a 4th-grade stomachache since.)

Miss Dub got a bit of the croup, and we decided that good friends don't send their contagious kid over to a friend's house for the evening, even when it's the night before your fifth anniversary and you can't celebrate the actual day because you unintentionally got married the same night as your church's annual women's broadcast.

In the end, it was a pretty good anniversary. We've always been a low-key couple. We stay in for most major celebrations, though the birth of Miss Dubby Pants has made it more appealing to go out.

And, as usual, we didn't buy each other anything. But we did get a Wii Fit for fun, which is kind of silly since we don't even use our Wii right now. But, you know, there's nothing like a little animated yoga to get a marriage going!

Answer: Five

2008-09-26T05:26:00.001-05:00

Question: How many years have the Dubs been married?

Mr. Dub and I didn't have a whirlwind courtship. We knew each other a long time before we started to really hang out. We hung out a really long time before we kissed. And we kissed a really long time before we got serious. (Oops.) A few times Mr. Dub accidentally broke my heart. But do you know how I knew he was special? Because even in my heartache, I only ever wanted the best for him. I didn't want to ram his shins. I didn't want to hide stinky cheese in his car. I just wanted him to be happy. Because even though he wasn't always the best boyfriend, he was always my best friend.

When things finally got serious, it moved fast; but I still wondered if our rocky romantic foundation would be enough to support a forever family. Then, one night I went to see Mr. Dub. We went to get some frozen yogurt and sat in his car listening to the newest Radiohead album while it poured rain outside. And I thought to myself, "If all I ever did for the rest of my life was sit in this car and listen to music with him, I would be happy." Then, he turned to me and said, "This makes me happy."

Five years, two kids, and lots of memories later, I'm still happy.

I love you, Mr. Dub.

Bath night?

2008-09-25T05:21:00.000-05:00

Can someone explain to me what "bath night" is all about?

I recently met a woman who referenced "bath night," and I'm a little confused. Miss Dub takes 1-3 baths a day depending on her state of filthiness and/or trips to the sandbox.

Does this mean there is only one bath a week for some children? And, is that disgusting, or is that just a sign of superior hygiene genetics?

Because I'm totally going to make me a dirt-repellent baby in the future if that's true.

Money doesn't grow on trees. I checked.

2008-09-24T05:48:00.001-05:00

Did you see me on Oprah yesterday? As of this typing, I haven't, because I'm afraid it will give me a bigger fat complex than I already have, and nothing makes me hungrier than feeling fat. Ironic, but delicious.

As I mentioned, Suze O turned on a light bulb in my pocketbook. Didn't hurt, but it did get me thinking about my finances. And the verdict is: I'm a fictional fancy pants. I see myself one way in my mind, but my bank account/bills paints another picture. (Ain't pretty.) And - newsflash! - your dream self cannot dictate your spending habits.

I don't spend a lot on anything. We have no car payments. I don't have expensive clothing. We don't eat out at exclusive restaurants. But, I rarely tell myself no. And just because I'm thrifty doesn't mean that I'm frugal. In fact, I'm too good at finding a deal, because I'm always buying one - and that adds up. Throw in random Target purchases, salon visits, occasional brand-name products and dessert runs ... and it will take us years to pay off our student loan debt. (Hint: Graduate tuition at Northwestern is $17,000 a quarter.)

We don't have any other debt, so that's good, but we do have a desire to own a home (and nice furniture)(and cool art)(and a shave ice machine), all which gets mental priority over paying off those dreaded loans. And let me tell you, the debt has to go first. Because you can't sell your debt and buy a used car instead.

Suze told off a couple who had (gasp!) $95,000 in credit card debt and 44 credit cards. She told them they had to sell their home and move into an apartment, which they bristled at. You know why? They thought they were too good for an apartment. With $95,000 in debt they thought they deserved to live in a house. But guess what - they don't deserve a hot dog cooked on a sidewalk. They made their financial bed, and now they have to buy low-thread-count sheets to make it with.

Wow! Am I still writing?

Here's why I think the world is so wacked out with money. First, we think we deserve the same lifestyle our parents have, but we either start living it before we can afford it, or we whine that we don't have it, not realizing all the other amenities we enjoy - cell phones, cable, two cars, eating out - that they never did. Splurging for them is scrimping for most of us. They didn't eat out with friends. They didn't use feta cheese and pine nuts for every salad. (Guilty.) And while there isn't anything wrong about enjoying the good things in life, we have to sacrifice elsewhere to compensate. And then, we can't complain about it. (Especially when we choose to be a one-income household.)

Why didn't Oprah have me as a guest? I'm clearly an expert on this stuff.

Now, any idea how you budget?

HTT: The state of the universe

2008-09-23T06:37:00.001-05:00

Have you developed a tick lately?

Because I tell you, the state of the world is enough to get you twitching. Companies combusting, banks failing, terror reigning, violence surging, calamaties raining, immorality swirling. These are hard times, my friends. (The upside: You can now brag to your grandchildren about something besides where you were when Janet Jackson's top went uh-oh.)

In my own life, things don't seem as easy as they used to be. Anything I do seems to require extra effort and challenges are rampant. Based on conversations with all two of my friends, I'm thinking it's a tough time for other people, too. Life is throwing everyone for a loop, and not all of us will come back down.

It's a scary place to be, but I'm not terrified yet. First, there have been tough times before. Humans are very resilient, as are economies, so I don't think this is the end/pre-rapture/time to move to Missouri. Second, even if it is the end, I don't plan to spend the last days on Earth as we know it sitting around feeling bad for myself. You still have to brush your teeth, you know?

But I am worried enough to be cautious - about my choices, about my behavior, about my children. I am unsure about whether the future will hold the same things our past did. I'm nervous for what's to come, and I'm mosdef trying to be prepared for whatever it might be.

What about you?

Are you scared about the state of the world?

What are you doing the same or different?

I'm going to be a grandma!

2008-09-22T07:31:00.004-05:00

Me: Tell me a secret.

Miss Dub: (leans into me with her ear)

Me: No, you tell me a secret.

Miss Dub: Pink secret.

Me: No, tell me a real secret.

Miss Dub: I'm having another baby.

Uh, should I be worried about the location of the first one?

Oprah and me

2008-09-19T06:10:00.007-05:00

~~Her hair is bigger than I thought.~~

Her hair is just as big as I thought it was, but I assumed it would look smaller in real life. It does not, but she is still a lovely person.

For the first few hours of the whole experience, I was in awe. When a friend and I cruised up to Harpo studios, I thought, "This is brilliant. Why haven't I done this sooner?" The sad truth is that I've casually tried to get tickets before, and desperately tried to be a guest on the show because I once knew a girl who said her butt is too big (it isn't) and walked away with a really cool new outfit. And I like new outfits. But they never took me up on my show ideas, probably because most of them involve Tina Fey and me hanging out for a day. And a million dollars.

There is a lot of waiting before you enter the studio, but I did eat a complimentary yogurt parfait, which was a real highlight for me. I'm sure I could make one at home, but eating Miss Dub's cereal trail is so much easier.

For some reason, I was given a reserved seat in the second row, complete with my name on it. I don't know why, but a producer had me send a head shot beforehand, so either I was way cuter than the women in the second row, or I was meeting their special needs quota. (Bad dye job being a special need.)

Suze Orman was the guest, and while I don't follow her blond pageboy, I was feeling her financial fervor. I'll share more in a later post, but I loved the way she considers debt to be dishonest. Because if you live outside your means, you are lying to yourself about your financial situation. And while I'm not a big liar, I sometimes fib and tell me myself that I deserve a level of comfort that I don't considering the hunk of student loans we owe. So I had a little moment with my spending habits. (Me: Stop it. Them: Aw, man!)

We then got to attend a second taping with Dr. Oz and some medical miracles. There was a very tall 12-year-old with a super rare - only one ever - chromosome condition. He was sweet, his story was touching and there was a surprise from a famous person. (No spoilers, but it was via satellite, so not that exciting.) The segment also featured a 26-year-old primordial dwarf. I have a good friend who adores primordial dwarves, so I felt very honored to be there. I was not thrilled, however, when she sat in front of me, juxtaposing her miniature self with my chubby stature. (Remember: the camera adds 45 pounds!)

All in all, it was a good time, but the Oprah legend had me expecting a large gift or epiphany. I did gain an appreciation for O, who looked very tired and obligated to help others through her show, even though she's over it at this point. To which I say, you quit, girl! (Oprah's second language is You Go Girl. She'll understand.)

p.s. They didn't not allow pictures inside or outside the studios, but I plan to take pictures of my TV if my mug is ever shown. First, I have to figure out what channel Oprah is on.

I'm the next Dr. Phil

2008-09-18T05:42:00.001-05:00

No time to post this morning.

I'm off to see Oprah (be taped).

She and I are, like, super tight.

Even though - shhhh! - I don't watch her show, and I don't like her much anymore. And my IL bestie and I were discussing how we like her better when she's not skinny. (Ha! Weight loss is hard!)

I'm sure to have my own spin-off soon.

Would you watch it?

Mrs. Dub's date with the dermatologist

2008-09-17T05:46:00.002-05:00

Today is the big day.

After three months of waiting, I finally have my dermatologist's appointment.

I called in July because I'm pretty worried that I have skin cancer on my upper lip. (Taut, flaky area on my lip/skin above that does not respond to lip medications and has been gradually growing over the last ten months. Looks like the pictures on several un-credible Web sites.) However, cancer is apparently very common in these parts, because the receptionist informed me that the soonest appointment was [today]. And that she would put me on the "probably has skin cancer" waiting list in case there was a cancellation, but that I was number 17, so I probably wouldn't be seen any sooner.

And I wasn't.

Is it bad that I hope it's just herpes?

UPDATE: It's not cancer! It's probably dermatitis caused by self-conscious lip-licking. (Yes, that's an official medical term.) Cure: Cutting out my tongue. As for that terrible rash on my legs and arms, the culprit is Activia yogurt. I now forbid you all to eat its phony live cultures. Amen.

HTT: Vote for no election!

2008-09-16T06:00:00.001-05:00

Yawn.

Is the election over yet?

I kept telling myself that I would get more serious about it when the candidates were formally announced, running mates were selected and voting was imminent. But that time is here, and I'm bored of them all. I don't need to know more about the candidates - I need to know less about them. Because the more that they do and say, the less I like them all. (Sort of like when you read my blog for a few days in a row.)

I hate the extended election season. I do not think it's awesome that candidates start unofficially campaigning a year or two in advance, spending ridiculous amounts of donors' lucre. I recognize that the biggest battle is in the primaries, but once your candidacy is sealed, there's really not much you can do to get voters. There are a handful of swing voters - check! - but many of them will be swayed by outside reasons (Bush, war, moral stance, hairdo preferences) instead of campaign rhetoric. And the rest will just vote along party lines in a major election, anyway.

In fact, most people could responsibly vote just by reading a (neutrally written) one-page fact sheet on each candidate.

Instead, we have to watch endless coverage of rallies and debates. We have to read article after article about who said what, and who is lying. The longer that goes on, the more negativity is exchanged. And that makes me want to vote for my dad. And he doesn't even have an esophagus!

Wouldn't four months be sufficient?

What do you think?

Should they limit the campaign season?

What about donations?

Go.

* Get your MTT here.

Not bad enough for a name, but still bad

2008-09-15T07:22:00.004-05:00

I feel kind of bad complaining about our local weather in light of Dwight/Isaac, but have you heard about our local weather? It's not nearly as destructive, but people are stranded, homes are destroyed and some people have died.

OK, I'm not stranded, my home is not destroyed, and I don't know anyone who has died - but, I am really, really, sick of the rain. It started raining on Friday, and it hasn't stopped since. Like, at all. We had the guts to go downtown Saturday for Disney on Ice (Mr. Dub likes hockey princesses), and getting there had my natural paranoia on overdrive. The freeway was closed, roads were flooded, people were wearing unattractive rain slickers. I kept thinking, "We are never going to get there." And when we got there, "We are never going to get back." And when we got back, "Should I be on medication?"

It looks like we're in for a minor reprieve today, but I should warn you that bad weather is synonymous with Chicago. (Seriously. Look it up in a thesaurus. A smart thesaurus.) Did you know that we get more rain than Portland? (Seriously. Look it up in an almanac. A weather almanac.) And cloudy days far outnumber sunny ones. It's depressing! That's why we have two baseball teams. Because baseball is like sport sunshine.

Anyway, I guess the point of this is to justify staying in my pajamas/pj's/jammies/peejers for most of the day.

I feel good about it.

Melting playground

2008-09-12T06:02:00.002-05:00

My apartment complex is very large but not very diverse mom-o-graphically. As in, there are not a lot of white moms. Most of the SAHMs hail from the Middle East with a sampling from Asia or Eastern Europe.

As a result, I get chided a lot as these cultures are more, well, cultural. If by culture you mean you think it's appropriate to dress your child in several layers of clothing, a hat and gloves on a hot September day. Or to refuse to give your child cold water because they might get a cold. Or you yell at me because I haven't potty-trained my daughter by 9 months, or pierced her ears. Stuff like that. (But worse, I tell you, worse! If I didn't think they read my blog, I'd elaborate, but let's just say that I've been sent home several times to change Miss Dub's clothing.)

Multiple times I've had someone say to me, "Are you sure you don't work?" as if my mom attire was too corporate or something. (And I know few jobs where lounge pants are apropos.) That or I'm just not meeting the level of parenting paranoia that they expect from another mother.

Today I was out with Miss Dub when a few friends came over. (From India, China and Tanzania respectively.) I thought their eyes were going to explode when they saw that little Miss and I were both barefoot! On a 70-degree day! Then, they forced me to stand at the bottom of the slide and catch Miss Dub, even though she's perfectly capable of landing herself, and even if she didn't due to a freak wind burst, the 1-foot drop doesn't alarm me much. Call me crazy! (They do, behind my back. I'm almost positive.)

But despite these minor differences, they are really nice people and good friends with lots of (other) culture to share with me. Plus, Miss Dub thinks it's cool that most of her male friends wear jewelry.

Besides, can you imagine what they think about my superstitions? You have to wear makeup to go out? You have to record your favorite TV show so you don't miss it? You have to tell someone they don't look fat when they clearly do?

That's all I got for now, but I'm sure there are more.

Like, having a blog.

Any others?

Terrible, horrible, no good, very weird week

2008-09-11T07:11:00.000-05:00

It's been a weird week, and it's only Wednesday. (When you read this, it will be Thursday, and I can only hope that something really weird, like winning millions of dollars for wearing the same pants three days in a row, will have happened.)

On Monday, I got called over by a friend who merely whispered in sobs to me on the phone: "My neighbor is really angry. The police are here." I came up with all sorts of insane scenarios in my head by the time I got there in my pajamas (even though it was 9 a.m.), but it ended up being a verbal assault by a wacked-out neighbor who thinks her wacked-out kids are angels, which oddly wasn't one of the scenarios I had envisioned. (Salsa dance-off? Yes.) Nevertheless, it distressed my friend, so we stayed for a while until Miss Dub started to verbally assault her daughter for jumping on the trampoline with her. Miss Dub is a solo artist.

Monday night, Mr. Dub was out of town on a business trip, though you wouldn't have known it because I always say things out loud about his presence in case bad people are listening. In his absence, Miss Dub requested that we celebrate a super rainy day by eating out at a "restwaunt." So we did, and I had curry soup. And that night I woke up with a burning rash all over my legs and arms and had to throw up, causing me to get little sleep. The rash is still there, and to be honest, I don't know if there is any connection to the soup, but isn't it cute when Miss Dub says, "restwaunt"?

Tuesday night, I offered to babysit a new friend's four children for the evening. The evening was going well until their dog bit Miss Dub on the arm when she went to pet him. Their German shepherd, that is. Yeah, it was extremely frightening for both of us, and as I've played that horrific memory over and over in my mind (like, all last night rather than sleeping), I just feel so lucky that he didn't bite her face or somewhere more vital. As it is, she has a big, bruised outline of his teeth on her wrist, along with one puncture wound. This is not helping my anti-pet stance. Because let me say this once to those of you who consider your naturally aggressive dogs to be tamed: You don't know.

But the most annoying part of this week came today/Wednesday when I was so tired that I could barely stay awake driving to Target, per Miss Dub's request. Even though I'm not a napper, I promised myself I would take a nice, long slumber when we got back home to regain senses in my extremities - like, my eyes - but as soon as I drifted away, the loudest, most irritating sound came from the apartment above. They were scraping the carpet out and throwing it off the balcony. And I'd be lying if I didn't rethink my firearms position.

So I guess I don't really need Hot Topic Tuesday. This week is making up my mind all over place.

Maybe I'll run into Obama tomorrow, and he'll tell me he hates my pants.

Stay tuned.

HTT: Pardon my Partisan?

2008-09-09T05:52:00.001-05:00

via Getty Images

After last week's Hot Topic and my subsequent dip in self-confidence, I told myself I would stick to lighter fare from here on out. But then I started thinking (always dangerous when I remember to do it), and I realized that presidential elections only come every four years, so let's abuse it for blog posts while we can. I mean, wasn't that what the Olympics was all about?

As we've discussed the election and politics in general, it's become clear to me that some of you (*cough* most) are very loyal to your political party. As I've watched election coverage, I've realized that many people are so loyal to their party that they will defend almost anything their respective leaders do or say, usually with verbal swords.

Which is why I beg to believe that partisanship is one of the last acceptable forms of prejudice in our country. We're incensed when people use the race card with Obama, the gender card with Palin or Clinton, or even the age card with McCain, but we're totally calm when others stereotype or criticize any of them based on their party affiliation. In fact, we expect it.

"Democrats are a bunch of liberal communists! That's not an attack, that's a fact!"

"Republicans are a bunch of Bible-thumping old bitties! They are ignorant and close-minded!"

As someone who votes across party lines and tends to analyze personal philosophies rather than party association, I'm always surprised to hear typically kind people launch into verbal attacks on one party or the other. I'm amused that they consider all members of an opposing party to be equally evil by virtue of their political beliefs.

Why do they do it? Because we all think we have it figured out. We all think we are right. But we all see things through different eyes. So what might be perfect vision to one is blurry to another. And that's OK. Isn't that what you told me last week?

I realize we have to keep a two party system to keep things running, but I wish that people were a little less loyal. Because I think one of the greatest obstacles in politics is party ties. The red tape, the pandering, the song-and-dance - it's all about political parties and hardcore party constituents. And politics should be about people.

What do you think?

Is criticizing a political party a form of prejudice?

Do you ever do it?

If so, do you feel good about it?

Vote.

p.s. Want some more Tuesday topic love? Go here.

Rhymes with ampon

2008-09-08T07:56:00.007-05:00

Warning: Rated PG-13 for references to bodily excrement and sanitary devices.

Miss Dub* thinks it's hilarious to pick her nose. Because boogers are, like, so funny. She spends most of the day with her pointer up her nostril these days. I've made casual attempts to stop this behavior, but that just seems to encourage it, so I'm to the ignoring stage.

Yesterday, she was actually after something, which isn't usually the case. We were sitting in the middle of our church's sacrament meeting, so I wanted to put a quick kabosh on the situation. Except, that I was trying to listen to the speaker and entertain her and do a quick inventory of where my friends were sitting. So I was a bit preoccupied as I reached into my bag and mindlessly held up some tissues in the air while I finished my other activities and could pay full attention to Miss Loves-me-some-finger-snot.

Except that I wasn't hold tissues. I was holding a tampon. High up in the air. For a good minute or two.

Honestly, yesterday was one of those days when I didn't really care about my reputation as it's already been tainted by my general lack of propriety, so I laughed casually and said, "Awkward." I mean, it was even the kind in a pretty wrapper that's supposed to throw people off - "Is it candy?" "No, it must be a present!"

In retrospect, it is sort of embarrassing.

And for anyone who might think Miss Dub will be humiliated by this post when she gets old enough to read it - no worries, we're not going to teach her to read for that very reason. Besides, did you hear about the time I held a tampon up in the air during church? Clearly, she is going to be more embarrassed for me.

Sigh.

*Thanks to all who made me aware that I was claiming to be the nose-picker all day. I have many a bad habit, but that, thankfully, is not one. Now, I'm going to go smell my pits.

Lest you think this blog is too trivial

2008-09-05T08:10:00.002-05:00

... Here is what is really important in life.

Palin. Again.

2008-09-05T06:05:00.003-05:00

So usually it's readers who can't let a Hot Topic die. (Hello, will you ever forgive me for not wanting a dog?)

But our Sarah Palin discussion has weighed heavily on my mind, making me thoroughly unfunny. (I even envisioned a man in a chicken costume driving a Zamboni and it barely elicited a chuckle.) Thinking more deeply about her has made me alternately embarrassed and empowered by my Tuesday post, which I wrote with no clue it was a national debate.

So after some careful analysis of the situation and her acceptance speech, here's what I have to say: I was (sorta) wrong.

After examining her situation, qualifications and my own viewpoints, I recognize that my judgment of her is rash and somewhat sexist. I don't know her personally, I don't know her motivation, and I don't know her parenting plan. I'd hate for someone to criticize how I rear Miss Dub, but, then again, I'm not running for national office.

I don't think it's totally wrong to examine a candidate's other obligations. And since Palin is touting motherhood as a qualification, it's fair game. And, let's be honest, a 4-month-old can be very time consuming. I understand a working mother's need to arrange for daytime care, but I'm not a huge fan of 24/7 nannies, yet I imagine Palin will need them with her schedule - and at her son's tender age, that makes me sad. As someone who recently lost a baby and yearns to be a new mom again, I would give anything to be in her shoes - not her vice presidential heels, but her new mom flats.

Baby aside, I do feel like she's a reasonably qualified, pleasantly unjaded and happily married politician. I admire her determination to be a mom and serve her country. I like that she's managed to juggle those responsibilities so far and still make an impact on Alaska. I dig her spunk, and I'm quite flattered that she took my advice and opted for a 1/2-updo for her speech.

But, like most politicians who belong to any party besides "Tupperware," I'm not keen on on many of Palin's politics, and I'm really, really not thrilled with her attacks on Obama. Didn't she ever tell her kids, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"?

Hmmm ... sounds like I need to take that advice.

So, who wants to hear the one about the guy in the chicken costume who was driving a Zamboni?

It's so hard to eat soup out of a teddy bear

2008-09-04T06:21:00.000-05:00

I found these guys in the dishwasher the other day.

I have a sneaking suspicion as to who is responsible.

Mario Lopez.

Those dimples aren't fooling anyone, A.C.

Oh, yes I did ...

2008-09-03T07:23:00.000-05:00

... go to Medieval Times with my bro and his wife when they were in town this weekend. (I'll spare you a 24-picture recap, but a good time was had by all.)

For those not down with the MT, it's a dinner-theater arena where "medieval" knights gallivant on horseback portraying some sort of nonsensical story, whilst the audience (presumably teletransported from the parking lot) eats food. With their hands.

The highlight of the night for me was the serving wenches, while Miss Dub was crazy for the horses. She stood with a clenched look of glee on her face that strongly resembled bowel distress. When one of the knights singled her out to receive a special sash for her beauty, I thought she was going to hyperventilate.

But what really affected me was when I noticed one of the characters was wearing a wedding ring. It got me thinking: Does this guy provide for his family on his medieval wages? How old are his kids? Are they bragging to their friends about their father, the court squire, or are they thoroughly humiliated that he dresses in a cape for a living? Is there silverware in his home? Did he or did he not like role-playing games as a child? Also, does his local Target sell orzo pasta, because mine doesn't.

This train of thought got me thinking about crazy jobs and how people and their children might feel about doing them. For example, ice sculptors. Sounds cool, but is it actually too cold? Or maybe the person who oversees the corn-shelling of hot dogs at the corn dog plant. Is his job infinitely cooler than the dude who boils the dogs? And what about balloon artists? Because I used to be one in high school, and I can assure you that I never felt cool doing it. I actually hid in the bathroom most of the time because I hated pressuring families into getting a crazy balloon hat or a monkey holding a flower. But one day will Miss Dub brag to her friends about my forgone position?

I do know that people treated me with a strange reverence when I used to tell them I was a reporter. I felt like I was being lumped in with other professionals like lawyers, dentists and doctors, except that I made little more than a school teacher and provided a much smaller social service. (What? You didn't want to know what happened at the city council meeting?)

But I know I can do better in this life. After my mom years are over, I hope to become a stunt woman or a pizza taster or a serving wench. You know, something cool and random that doesn't involve a cape or an air pump.

What about you?

Last Byte: Sarah Palin

2008-09-02T21:00:00.003-05:00

Wow! First, I appreciate all of you making the switch from me olde blog to this here new one. Second, I appreciate all of you getting passionate, minus the potty-mouthers. It really did make me stop and think about the topic and Sarah herself.

Would I have the same issues with a male candidate? I don't know, but I'm not a man and can't draw a parallel to their lives as easily. I also think that mothers typically play a more nurturing role in families, even in those where both parents work. So it is natural for me to worry more about the time constraints of a mother of a 4-month-old than its father. But I can honestly say that the double dose of their special needs infant and pregnant teenager would be red flags no matter the gender. It's not that either situation is the end of the world; it's that we don't need the whole world watching them at critical points in their life. And we don't need Palin distracted at a critical time in our nation.

I don't care that she is a working mom. I doubt she caused her teenager daughter to get pregnant. And I really, really don't care about the updo, though for the record, I'm an equal-opportunity hair critiquer. (Bob Costas = bleck.)

Finally, none of this will make my decision in the election, because it really isn't the pressing issue. But it did make it hard for me to relate to a woman that McCain clearly wants me to bond with. Which is why I have a hard time finding a candidate to love in this election - all of the rhetoric, pandering and patronizing has me weary already and it's still two months away.

Good thing I have my bob.

HTT: Sarah Palin ... seriously?

2008-09-02T06:00:00.002-05:00

I just don't know if I can trust someone who loves snow.

I like women. I'm pretty sure that I'm one myself. I enjoy the notion of a female president or vice-president. So when I heard that John McCain had selected Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate, I told myself to give her a chance rather than arrange a street fight with him for his utter arrogance. (Yeah, dude, we can't tell that you're just doing it for votes.)

Even though she's clearly unqualified to run a country - no offense, Sarah, I'm sure you can whip up some mean down coat legislation - I kind of liked the idea of Annie Oakley going to Washington. Also, she looks like Tina Fey, which is a major plus. I even started to fantasize about how she might do things if McCain dies/commits treason in office. (With her hair down, of course, because I'm over her updo already.) I wondered if I could vote for her in spite of him.

I liked that she is the mother of five children ... until I found out she has a 4-month-old with Down Syndrome and a 17-year-old daughter who is five months pregnant and planning to wed her baby daddy.

(Insert sound of record screeching to a halt.)

Ugh, whaaat? I don't know about you, but I find it hard to believe that a mother of five children, two who are under the age of 8, has the time or energy to be vice president of our nation. If she does, I want to know what she eats for breakfast.

So now it's gone beyond a political debate to a moral debate for me. It's not about working moms or teen pregnancy - I'm fine with the former and don't hold a parent responsible for the latter. Besides, neither issue has a bearing on her ability to serve. But it is about time away from a family that needs her presence.

Should I vote for a woman I sort of admire (minus that NRA thing) at the expense of her children? Should I forward the cause of women, but stunt the progress of motherhood? Because being a vice-president is more than a day job, and being powerful isn't going to tuck your kids in at night or teach your daughter how to feed a baby. Maybe that's the sacrifice you have to make to have a shot at greatness, but I'd personally rather guide my family than steer a country.

What do you think?

Is she a good choice?

How is this going to help/hurt McCain?

p.s. I'll meet you behind the school yard at 3, John!

Welcome

2008-09-01T00:34:00.001-05:00

This is my new blog.

My old blog is here.

No idea on the whereabouts of Waldo, however.

Buttons for your blogs or dogs!

2008-08-28T06:00:00.008-05:00

Pick a button and help me as I try to take over the world (mu-ha-ha!):

Basic button -Copy and paste this code into your HTML/Java Script:

A little more lovely -

Copy and paste this code into your HTML/Java Script:

Straight up sarcastic -

Copy and paste this code into your HTML/Java Script:

FAQs

1979-06-15T11:42:00.004-05:00

Is Mrs. Dub your real name? Yes, if you are abbreviating ... and using the Roman alphabet. But my real name is Yvette. (That's a lie.)

Why do you love Target? A better question would be, "Why don't I love Target?" From the clever red bullseye to the $3.97 clearance rack items, Target is the new mall - if the old mall was cool, affordable and modernly packaged.

Who is Baby Zee? She's my second daughter. She was born prematurely in February 2008 and passed away momentarily due to triploidy, a fatal chromosome disorder. It was a huge bummer, but we look forward to reuniting with her after this life. We still consider her part of our family and sometimes even include her on our chore chart. As a result, our bathroom is filthy.

What is HTT? HTT stands for Hot Topic Tuesday. It all started in yore when I went all crazy on home-schooling moms and their socially awkward kids, only to receive heated comments on both sides of the argument. It opened my mind and provided a much needed outlet for my passionate political and social views. So every Tuesday I plead my side and then you get a chance to chime in. Sometimes you change my mind; usually it just solidifies my point. But no matter what we have a good time. (As long as you play nice and criticize concepts, not commenters.)

Can I submit Hot Topic suggestions? Yes. I'm always open to ideas and often use them. I do prefer that they be a popular topic rather than your own personal dilemma. While I always care, other people aren't interesting in debating your wall paint colors. (Ocean Mist, for sure!)

Are you going to home-school your kids now? Hecks no.

Are you Mormon? Hecks yes.

Why don't you take more pictures of yourself? Despite what online dating might have convinced you, the self-portrait is always awkward. Plus, Mr. Dub works during the day and charges for his photography skills.

Why do you take so many pictures of Miss Dub? They don't always match your post topic. Because she's cuter than your kid. Seriously.

Are these all your blog posts? No. I've been blogging since 2005. My archives can be found here. They are also boring like this site, so you should like them.

What happened to all your links? There are too many cool blogs and sites to feature on this blog. Plus, sometimes I say stupid things and you probably don't want to be associated with them.

Why do you use so many parentheses? (Because I like them.) (And because I'm crazy.) (And because I crazy like them.)

About Me

1974-08-08T09:55:00.002-05:00

Have you ever gotten home from a party and realized that you talked way too much, revealing way too much about yourself? If so, you're going to love my eccentric musings and random misadventures. If not, you'll probably laugh at me, not with me. So in the end, we're all entertained, right?

But for those who like to know these sorts of things, I'm a former reporter who did not miss calling people up after their kin died (or made a fool of themselves)(or killed someone else), but who did miss writing. So when I heard that blogs existed I was, like, "Hooks a girl up!"

My blogging career started off sketchy, but over time I realized that ranting was more of my style than a weekend recap. So while you may know far more about me than you ever wanted to, you may also wonder what I actually do with my time. (Good question.)

As for the basics, I'm from Arizona, but I now live in the greater Chicago area because my husband came out here for grad school and got a job nearby. I love the city, but I hate the weather. I also hate the way a middle lane will just merge with no warning out here. If anyone knows who to talk to about this, please let me know.

I love my husband. I love my daughters. I love to shop (often at Target). I love to read news stories, and constantly live in fear that I'm going to miss a major news event and never be able to say, "I remember where I was when [such-and-such] happened."

Finally, I'm a bit of a pop culture junkie, which means I know the theme song to "Shaft," which will never come in handy in an emergency, but will keep people amused while I borrow their supplies. So there's that.

Any questions?