Saturday, April 4, 2015

Polish Pick Up

Today as I was leaving the Dollar Store, a guy approached me as I was putting stuff into my trunk.

It made me nervous. I figured he was either going to mug me, try to sell me something, or Jehovah's Witness me.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Are you from Poland?"

What the hell? " I'm from Indiana."

"Maybe that's your heritage, though? I have a friend from Poland and you two could be twins."

"Hmm. No, I'm Irish." I sidled closer to my car and considered stabbing him with my keys if things went downhill.

"Oh. Well, my name's Chris. I just moved here from Kansas."

"Okay. Hi, Chris," I answered, hand on door.

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and pushed it towards me. "Look, I don't ever do this but I wondered if I could give you my phone number..."

I waited for him to finish with "--so we can talk about Jesus" or "--so I can tell you about this amazing business opportunity," and he just stood there, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

Then I realized. "Oh! Oh, wow. No. I'm married. Very married. Kids and all."

"Ahhh, I thought it was worth a try, you're looking good in those yoga pants."

Now, I know the feminist in me should have been mad that he was obviously looking at my butt and 25 year old me would have been exasperated and disgusted but...these things don't happen often these days. I was flattered. Not going to lie. I'm glad I didn't stab him with my keys.

Also, that Lululemon discount is paying off after all.

Friday, April 3, 2015


"We have to get some catnip for the cats for Easter," I told the boys.

"Isn't that like putting weed in an Easter basket?" Big Kid replied.

"What?!?" I was shocked that he said that. "Seriously?? Big Kid...if anyone is getting weed in their Easter basket it should be mommy."

(Don't worry, I then went on to explain that I was totally kidding and drugs are bad. And I always start that conversation with "Drugs are bad, mmmmkay?" because what drug abstinence conversation would be complete without a reference to South Park?)

(Don't worry, they don't watch South Park.)

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Crazy People on Netflix

This is my soul sister, right here. I also like Netflix...I'm indifferent on birds. Birds flying around doing their own thing and being all beautiful? Love them. Loud birds in cages that will probably bite me? Not so much. Netflix never poops on me or makes a mess for me to clean up and has never done anything even remotely threatening.

I also think I prefer Netflix to boys at this stage in the game. Has Netflix left its dirty underwear on my bathroom floor? Not even once!

Last month we talked about my charming fascination with true crime and serial killers but don't worry, I'm on to something else this month: Crazy people!

Much like birds, I love watching them while they are out doing their own thing in the world and not scaring or bothering me. I mean, it sucks that they are scaring and bothering others, but it does make for great television. Is this as insensitive as my interest in murderers? Clearly. It seems a little less morbid though. A little.

Tabloid is a documentary about a beauty queen with a high IQ who kidnaps a Mormon guy. It only gets weirder from there. They interview her throughout the film and she's very charming and intelligent and obviously cunning in a way that is unsettling. I really liked it.

The Woman Who Wasn't There is about this lady who was actively involved in survivor support groups for 9/11 and had a moving tale of loss...but she wasn't there. It was so intriguing and bizarre how she inserted herself into these people's lives and stories for no reason at all.

Crazy Love features a high profile attorney and his younger mistress who had a troubled relationship--to put it mildly. The affair happened in the '50s and the documentary is filmed in a fast-paced kitschy way that I enjoyed.

Sons of Perdition -- I almost feel bad for including this one in the crazy people category so let me clarify that I'm calling the Amish people who do the shunning crazy, mostly because they'll never see this post anyway. It's about three boys who break out of the community and try to find their way in the "real" world. It was sad but interesting.

Serial Killer Culture sounds like it's about serial killers but I swear it's kind of not. It's about the weirdos who collect things from serial killers and make art about them and write them letters and seem to have an even more unhealthy interest in the subject than I do. There is some graphic content in this one (mainly brief glimpses of crime scene photos from the Manson murders), so beware.

Into the Abyss documents that last days of an inmate on death row for a triple murder in Texas. It interviews both the convicts and the family of the victims and was a fascinating look at both sides and the end result.

I swear I watch other things like Bob's Burgers and Arrested Development and I drew out the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt for a really long time for fear of missing her when she was gone, so please don't put me on your "crazy person" list if I'm not somehow already there.

I wrote this as a member of the Netflix Stream Team which does not influence my actions, opinions or behavior but they did send me Belgian chocolates last month so I guess you could say our relationship is getting pretty serious.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

One Third

"Pie is overrated." Big Kid announced.

"Even Key Lime?" I was surprised by this revelation because I thought he loved pie.

"The number. There's pi day and pi shirts and people trying to learn pi. What about the decimal for 1/3? It goes on until infinity but it sure doesn't get a day. You don't see anyone bragging about knowing 0.333333 to the thousandth place. I'm just sick and tired of hearing about pi."

"Uh...okay. I hear you." Because what do you even say in response to that?

I've got to admit that sometimes I worry about him but then I think about the sort of things other tweens are into and angsty about right now and I guess I'm lucky he hates pi.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Oswald and Lola

I feel pretty bad for not mentioning this sooner, but I've been busy (in a good way!) with writing gigs that I get paid for, which puts you all lower on the priority list and that's why I need to win the lottery.

So I should probably play the lottery.

I did announce it on Instagram but some of you don't follow me there and I try not to hold that against you.

But, anyway, we got a new family member! Meet Oswald:

(His last mom took that picture and I had to steal it because it's amazing.)
His real name is Oswald Jaron McCann. His middle name is to honor his former owner, but we like to call him Ozzie Hogbourne because we don't understand the concept of nicknames and enjoy over complicating things.

He's chubby and has a round, pudgy butt. His pink nose is precious. He is very active and social and sometimes he bites, which I think is hilarious because he only does it to Mr. Ashley and little kid and they deserve it. He doesn't bite in a mean way, more in a curious fat kid kind of way. No one cares, we all find it amusing.

He likes to show us his teeth, and I'm not sure if it's a threat or a smile. He is very clever and can easily escape from his playpen by pushing up on each hinge until he finds the latch. He is also litter trained -- none of my hogs have ever accomplished that.

He likes Max and Max is completely obsessed with him, to the point where it annoys me to witness the lack of personal space but Ozzie doesn't care. 

I am crazy about him! He makes me smile each time I see him and I love his soft, roll-y poly little body. 

His introduction to our lives felt like one of those meant to be life events. Mr. Ashley and I had been discussing our love for Lola and how it might be fun to have another hedgehog. He even looked up the breeder's Facebook page that Saturday before we realized this might be a crazy idea. The next day, a friend of some friends posted Oswald on a Facebook sale site free to a good home and after 20 minutes of it being posted, I was the only one who commented. I messaged her and pointed out our friends in common and told her how Lola ran the show around here and what great hedgehog parents we are and within half an hour, there were dozens of comments begging for Oz but she chose us. 

I picked him up the next morning and fell in love with his silly butterball self. 

The day after that, I took Lola to the vet for an injured foot that seemed slow to heal: 

After much poking, prodding, coaxing, and eventually drugs, she unrolled and was diagnosed with either a urinary tract infection or uterine cancer. (The manic running that caused the cracked foot may have been some sort of odd symptom but was not our biggest problem.) After three vet visits, injected antibiotics, syringe feedings and begging two vets to consider surgery at any cost, it became more obvious that it was cancer and we had to help her off to hog heaven.

My poor, sweet hoglet.

I wouldn't have been able to replace her, and wasn't mentally in a place where I could consider taking on something else to love that I would inevitably lose (because, frankly, it's getting a little old at this point) but, man, am I glad to have my adorable little Ozzie to distract and entertain me. I really need the comedy goldmine that he brings to my world right now.

So this is a happy and sad story, just like life.

Follow me on Instagram to see more Oswald since I'm (slightly) better at social media than blogging these days.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

The Proposal

We went camping over the weekend, so I guess you could say we are all stocked up on togetherness for the year. Don't get me wrong, we had a nice time -- it was just a lot of time. There is something to be said for technology and if that makes me a bad parent, add it to the list.

On one evening we went for a walk and little kid said,"Mom, did you marry dad for his money?"

I laughed and assured him that his father had no money when we met.

"Well, you definitely didn't marry him for his looks. No offense, but he probably married you for your looks, though."

"Eh, I'm not offended. We were 19 and 21 when we met, he probably did marry me for my looks."

"Well, why did you marry dad?"

"His looks. More specifically, his shoulders and smile. Also, he was fun."

"So, not really his looks. I just need to know because I still want to marry you."

At this point Mr. Ashley interjected, "You know, it's getting a little weird. You're eight and you still want to marry your mom. We thought you'd outgrow this."

"She's beautiful, though."

Big Kid interrupted. "Bro, think about it like this. She squeezed you out of her female parts -- squeezed you right out. You want to marry that??"

"Actually, yeah."

I'm flattered, concerned, and horrified.