Fluid Pudding : Page 96 of 122 : It's the old small talk!

I’m not internationally known, but I’m known to rock the microphone.

On Saturday morning, we packed up the car and headed to Columbia, Missouri to watch the Missouri Tigers KILL the Colorado Buffalos. (I’m all-capping the word KILL to make you think I’m a big football fan. In reality? Not so much. The final score of the game was 26-0, which I believe qualifies as a kill. Remind me to tell you about the time I found myself in Colorado playing the horn of some guy who was out sick with a foot fungus. During that same trip, I ended up wearing a sombrero and singing in a mariachi band. I live the life I love and I love the life I live.)

Our seats were way on the eastern side of the field, and I think we all know that I’m making that eastern thing up. I have no sense of direction. All I know is that 21-year-old students look a lot younger now than they did when I was a student at Mizzou.

While we were in Columbia, Jeff and the girls were very patient with me as I shared my most remarkable memories with them.

I once (mostly accidentally) shaved my head, and my best friend (who was one of the Trumans!) cheered me up by letting me parade around in her Truman suit.

That particular incident most likely took place in this house, which was known as the DOG House, and my capitalization would make much more sense if I was allowed to use Greek letters in this post:

(The incident really did take place at the DOG house, but I’m not completely sure this IS the DOG house. My shadow is growing longer!!! And why are Greek letters giving me error messages?!)

Look at this building and tell me it doesn’t look like a fish with a big gaping mouth that vomits sorority girls!

I know! I think so, too!

Speaking of vomit, it was at this very bench where my friend Séve and I took a break from walking home after a long night out. While taking that break, I leaned over and threw up onto the sidewalk. (I know. I was just as mortified as you are right now.) Séve, God love him, simply squeezed my hand and said, “Oh, honey. You had spaghetti for supper.” (Yes. The girls are pretending to throw up in the photo. They also pretended to cry afterward, because I always cry after throwing up. I gave birth to Good Sports.)

We hung out at the columns, where I once engaged in a Big Mac fight, because I was young and stupid and not yet aware of how many homeless people were roaming the streets just a few blocks over.

This is the house where I lived after graduation. It’s a tiny house, and four of us (sometimes five, sometimes seven and a baby) lived there. I spent many hours sitting on the roof of that house. (One of my roommates built the screened-in porch, which eventually brought us down from the roof.)

When everyone is talking football and the only thing to eat is meaty sandwiches, Harper and I tend to transform our hands into hecklers.

Harper Quote of the Weekend: The sweat in my armpit smells like onions.

Meredith Quote of the Weekend: When I burp it tastes like sausage.

And I share these quotes not because I feel you need to know them, but because I want to remember them. This is my canvas.

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My roommate once told me I was Very Wide. Follow this link to read the story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s a smart look. Leaf me alone.

I am at my most uncomfortable when there’s a camera in the room.

Just because a tiny black box with the word Nikon (or Canon or Polaroid or whatever) is around, I smirk, I tilt my head in strange ways, I suddenly look 15 years older, my face develops tics, I begin to cry on the inside, etc. (Seriously—if you think I’m an awkward hugger, you should experience my awkwardness in front of a camera. If anyone tries to take a photo of me hugging someone, I’ll most likely explode.)

A few days ago I finished a cardigan that I’ve been working on (not consistently, mind you) for two years. To take it from Work in Progress to Finished Object was HUGE, and I decided to document my victory on Ravelry.

Jeff followed me (with camera in hand) to the back yard, where I instantly smiled all crazy and proceeded to do my infamous camera freak-out.

I loaded his photos onto the computer, sighed and shook my head at the results, and quickly came up with a solution.

Until I learn how to smile for a photo, I’ll simply have to live my life as a treeface.

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Don’t mind us. We’re just perpetuating the stereotype…

On Saturday morning, we bundled up with coffee and doughnuts, sat lawn chairs on the side of the road, and enjoyed the high school’s homecoming parade.

The girls were very excited to see Pete the Pirate. (Actually, they were excited to see that Pete was throwing Tootsie Rolls. The hurling of the candy is their favorite part of the parade.)

I was surprised to see how many people showed up to represent the class who graduated from the high school during the year that I was born. (Note to my fellow WHS 1988 graduates: Don’t count on me riding a “float” and/or wearing owl headgear in 2028.)

As an editor, I’m always excited to find spelling errors during parades.

This one was due to adhesive failure, and cannot be blamed on the junior class.

This one? I’m really hoping it had everything to do with the sign maker and nothing to do with the athletic department.

Meredith: How do you say that word? Assitivities?

Me: Um, no. A-city-vitties.

Meredith: I like Assitivities.

Me: Hhhhh. Me too.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Sidney. Bono. Yoda. Apples.

Jeff and I were watching a documentary about U2.

Sidney began to mimic Bono’s posture.

We all laughed and laughed.

(All of this to ask: Do you have a favorite variety of apple? I just did a side by side comparison of SweeTango and Honeycrisp, and SweeTango was definitely the winner. I know at least three people who would slap me for saying such a thing, but look at me. I just said it.)
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

A giraffe’s heart weighs 24 pounds.

Meredith came home from school on Monday and decided that she wanted to show me how to draw a giraffe. She sat on the kitchen floor with a piece of paper and a Crayola paintbrush and created Mabel.

(I love Mabel.)

Later that evening, we went to the library to see Sara Pennypacker and Marla Frazee—the author and illustrator of the Clementine series, which happens to be Meredith’s favorite set of books. After the presentation and reading, the author asked if anyone had any questions. Meredith’s hand shot into the air, and she asked how the author decided to name the main character Clementine. When it was time to have her book signed, she talked to the author for quite some time about our cat who died a few years ago, and she sang the praises of Comic Life and Yummy Pancake to the illustrator.

It isn’t often that I see Meredith completely excited and at ease.

Monday was a good day to be Meredith.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I ain’t gonna study war no more.

On Friday evening the temperature dropped and the four of us found ourselves sitting around in the family room with the windows open and the television off. Perfect night. Then, all of a sudden: “I SAID HELLO, MARY LOU! GOODBYE HEART! SWEET MARY LOU I’M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!”

Jeff: Girls, do you hear that? The church up the street is having their barbershop quartet sing-off tonight!

Me: Wow! It sounds like they have a new sound system! Should we walk up and watch? There might be snowcones!

Meredith and Harper: NO!

So, we continued to sit and listen from our family room, and the music was a bit loud, yet sort of lovely, and the air was crisp, and all was well. (Five commas!) And then two hours passed, and it was bedtime for the girls, and the whole sing-off thing was quickly losing its charm.

“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A BEAUTIFUL BABY! YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A WONDERFUL CHILD!!!”

“DOWN BY THE OLD MILL STREAM!!! WHERE I FIRST MET YOU!!! WITH YOUR EYES OF BLUE!!! DRESSED IN GINGHAM, TOO!!!!”

Me: Every time one of the songs comes to an end, I find myself praying that the show is over.

Jeff: I’m starting to wonder if the show will EVER be over.

Meredith: I changed my mind. Let’s go see the singers.

Jeff and Me: No.

Another hour passes.

“YOU HOLD HER HAND, AND SHE HOLDS YOURS AND THAT’S A VERY GOOD SIGN!!! THAT SHE’S YOUR TOOTSIE-WOOTSIE IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME!!!”

Me: I hate barbershop quartets. HATE them.

“GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLE! GOODBYE MY CONEY ISLAND BABE!!!”

Me: I’m going to kill someone. If this doesn’t end soon, I swear I’m calling the police.

Ah, but it did end. And thank God for that, because I was starting to itch in strange places, which I believe indicates the onset of An Episode. I’m not sure who won, but I believe it was the gang who belted out Down by the Riverside. Now that we’re more than 48 hours past the trauma, I feel good admitting that they SHOULD have won. Two words: Harmonized Glissandi. (I’m all about glissandi lately—both the word and the effect. This song is getting a lot of play in my car.) ((By the way, I’m totally going to the barbershop quartet sing-off next year. And I’m taking you with me.))

On Saturday afternoon, we went to the school’s Fall Festival, where plates were broken, faces were painted, and severely awkward conversations were held (because that’s what I tend to do).

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Speaking of extraordinary…

Just so you know, if you knock on my door and then start screaming all meth-addict-like about how you need a few bucks to paint neon numbers on my sidewalk? You’re not going to get a couple bucks. AND, when you start getting all stink-eyed and suddenly you’re yelling about how neon numbers will help me “find the bad guys” and “I’ve painted half a million white numbers and half a million black numbers and now I’M PAINTING NEON GREEN NUMBERS FOR JUST A COUPLE BUCKS!” I’m still not going to give you a couple bucks. I’m STILL NOT, damnit!

And another thing. If you came by here a few minutes ago and saw that I was going to give away an owl cozy if you commented on this post, please know that the offer is no longer valid, because it’s actually illegal for me to do such a thing! Although there isn’t a giveaway associated with the post, please feel free to stop by and tell me why your family is extraordinary. If nothing else, it will make you feel warm and fuzzy.

I just spent over an hour trying to figure out if I prefer the Samsung Flight or the Pantech Ease. I finally asked the kind saleswoman to choose for me, and she told me that she didn’t have either in stock, but she’ll hold one of each for me when they arrive this weekend. So now I’m researching. And I’m bored. Does anyone out there know the price of potatoes? (Obviously, that question is code for: Flight or Ease? Anyone?)

I typed this post in five minutes. And you can totally tell.
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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Japan, Pickles, and Seasonal Ale

As I pulled up the Add New Post screen, my milkman delivered the goods, meaning my refrigerator now contains fresh milk, along with hummus, pesto, Schlafly Pumpkin Ale, kosher baby dills, a sourdough bread starter, leftover spaghetti and meatballs, and a ton of condiments. Today is Respect for the Aged Day in Japan, so I’m going to hug my cat (who is something like 85 years old if I’m doing the math correctly), and dip a pickle in hummus. Let’s hope it sticks. The hummus to the pickle, that is.

Shall we talk about the Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Every year our neighbors host a block party, and every year Jeff prepares for the party by heading to the store and purchasing a crazy number of bratwurst, buns, and a six-pack of some sort of seasonal beer. Most often, I drink one or two of the beers, and then I’m good for the next six months. A few years ago he purchased some sort of autumnal Budweiser, and it was very okay. Last year saw me holding a raspberry something or other, and I’m not sure I even finished the first one. The Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Oh my. I drank only one, but I’ve been thinking fondly of it ever since. (I once had a Schlafly Pumpkin Ale Ice Cream Float, and it still goes down as one of the best desserts I’ve ever had.) I don’t really consider myself to be much of a swiller, but when beer tastes like pumpkin pie, I’m in.

Although I definitely don’t need any more sock yarn, I purchased some sock yarn a few weeks back. AND, if you knit at the correct gauge, ghosts begin to form. The last thing I want to do is become the lady who has a pair of socks for every holiday (Respect for the Aged Day!), but I really couldn’t pass this up.

ETA: Oh! I just sent a bulk e-mail to those who wanted the owl cozy pattern. Please let me know if you wanted it but didn’t get it. Thanks!

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It must have been the soy.

Observation: Yesterday I made a pot of pasta fagioli, but I added soy crumbles instead of ground beef. Within thirty minutes of eating it, I found myself at the school’s Curriculum Night actually socializing with people I had never met. Stranger yet: I wasn’t even wearing my Cocksure Shoes.

Hypothesis: Soy somehow numbs my amygdala, thereby reducing my normal level of social anxiety. (Luckily, my numbed amygdala did NOT stir up any symptoms of hyperorality, which I just learned is a condition in which inappropriate objects are placed in the mouth. That could have been a bit awkward at Curriculum Night! “No, Mrs. Pudding. I don’t need my stapler back. You sort of claimed ownership by sucking on it during my presentation.”)

Alert the scientific journals! Soy inspires charm and eliminates sweaty palms! PLUS, it’s loaded with calcium, iron, and fiber!

I really do love the girls’ school. I love that every kid gets a free breakfast. I love that during their unit on Economics, each second grader will apply for a job, go through training and “work” at their job during a field trip, receive a paycheck, discover the joys of banking, and prioritize their earnings. I love that all kindergarteners are split up into focus groups during the day to work on the things where they might be struggling a bit. I love that Harper now knows the importance of Respect, Responsibility, and Peace—all because it’s part of the school’s creed.

I learned a lot about my kids last night. Specifically, Meredith wants to be a high school cheerleader (or tennis player) who spends her adult life sheltering dogs, and the three wishes she has for her future have nothing to do with ending hunger, eliminating cancer, or striving for peace. It’s all about scoring a dog, a computer, and an iPod.

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You are cordially invited to admire my senior photo from high school and take a chance at winning $150!

Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Owls and Dinners and Roses, etc.

So, I’m thinking this year’s Christmas gifts for teachers will consist of a 16 oz. coffee cup filled with a gift card and surrounded with an owl cozy.

Either that or mittens. It’s a tough decision. Cozies are quicker. Mittens are more useful. Both are equally warm and woolly.

My segues lack novelty: Speaking of tough decisions, about a week ago I threw a crazy fit that had something to do with me being tired of fixing a different dinner for everyone in the house. I’m not eating meat. The girls don’t want to eat what I make for Jeff, and they tend to want only chicken noodle soup or chicken nuggets for dinner, and argh! End of my rope! Jeff, being my hero and all, quickly found a service that puts together meal plans with recipes and shopping lists based on your family’s needs.

And, guess what? We “sold” it to the kids by talking about how fun it’s going to be to eat the same thing for dinner and how it will free up more time for reading and playing games and New Chapter for the Puddings and whatever, and Friday found both of my kids eating meatloaf filled with zucchini and carrots. AND, I’m able to eat the healthy side dishes and keep the vegetarian thing going. $1.25 each week, and everyone is winning. (I apologize if I seem a bit too excited about this. When you’ve gone nearly five years fixing at least three different meals for everyone’s dinner and suddenly everyone has the same stuff on their plate and they’re actually eating it? It makes me dance. And I’m no dancer. I’ll keep their link in my sidebar until I fall out of love with them.)

Finally, do you remember how my parents gave me a lovely rose bush for my birthday and I got all horticultural and replanted it next to our house and it suddenly died? Last week, as everyone in my family was eating pork chops and gravy over egg noodles (!!!), this was happening on the rose bush.

It’s tiny and sort of damaged, but I’ll take it. Also, I distributed over 100 fliers with my neighbor last week, and she thanked me by giving us a hummingbird feeder, which is the most perfect gift because Fliers and Fliers! Anyway, at this moment in time, I’m 100% into the hummingbirds. I’ve already made two batches of food for them, and they’ve promised to not migrate until early November. (I know they’re lying to me, but at least we’re communicating.)

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Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>