Magic 8 Ball Says...

In a telephone poll they’re asking voters the following question: If you were on a ship in a storm at sea, who would you want to be the captain? Obama or Romney?

Apparently they are using this question to try to determine who will win the presidential race. This part doesn’t interest me as much, as I think it sounds like the kind of nonsensical, Magic 8 ball prediction typically practiced at my house, and I’ve seen how that turns out.

 

“Magic 8 Ball, will my fella remember to take out the trash?”

Answer: Future is unclear.

Editor’s note: Exactly. About as unclear as our garbage can.  

But I am interested in the question itself, at a personal level. If I were on a ship, in a storm, at sea, who would I want to be the captain? I had to ponder it for awhile, but I came up with an answer. My vote for captain would be my friend Ashley’s husband. I can’t use his name here because it’s distinctive, and he works in finance, and you know my policy about protecting the identities of my friends who have dignified jobs. But here’s why I would pick Ashley’s husband:

1.     He’s handy.

2.    He’s level-headed.

3.    He already has a boat.

4.    He puts up with my friend, Ashley. So he would totally be used to putting up with the kind of histrionics I would throw at him. (Ashley is like a sister to me so I can say this sort of thing; also, she is a Scorpio and you know how Scorpios are.)

5.    He’s not related to me. I always behave better, more courteously, more courageously, and in a less pain-in-the ass manner, with non-family members.

6.    He has demonstrated past skills. Ashley’s husband did, ultimately, find and dispose of the garter snake that showed up for dinner at their house one night. He only did this once I stood on a chair, and said I was going to stay at a hotel if he didn’t. But this incident shows that he reacts well under pressure and also to threats of revolt, all important traits when adrift at sea.

So my choice for ship captain is Ashley’s husband. If you knew him, he’d probably be your choice as well. Which means he should give up the finance gig and start eyeing higher office. I would totally volunteer to run his Magic 8 ball, popularity polls.  

Ponder your own answer to this question. Then tell the person you would choose that they’re your choice. Tell ‘em why. It will brighten their day, and these days we all need a little of that.

6 Ways To Mouse Proof Your House

I see visions. Not like that kid in “The Sixth Sense” but visions that are no less scary. They’re visions of mice. Scurrying across the kitchen floor. Let’s be clear: there are no actual mice scurrying. Because I have the pest control guy on permanent retainer. He visits every 6 weeks. All year. That’s how scared I am of mice. Because we had a mouse problem. Once upon a time.

That’s a thing about living in an old -- I mean, historic -- house that realtors don’t tell you. They seduce you with the high ceilings and stained glass. You’re so busy looking up that you don’t think to look down, at the foundation and baseboards, which (at 100 years old) aren’t as level as one might wish. Unless one were a mouse yearning for a house in which to winter.

So I have some tips on how to mouse-proof your own house. Actually my pest control guy does. Because I interview him extensively every time he’s here. So for today’s “What Experts Wish You Knew” we have mouse-proofing wisdom from Ted, my Terminix guy.

1.     Accept the facts. If you live in the West, this winter’s gonna be bad. We didn’t have a really cold winter last year so the mouse colony is thriving because none of them died from the elements. You need to get your own Ted and have him visit your house regularly. Every 6 weeks in order to stay ahead of the problem.

And by “stay ahead” I mean poison the crackle out of those vermin. And no, environmentalist friends, I don’t care about the introduction of harmful chemical pellets to my home. I consider that a fair trade for the ability to walk into my kitchen without shuddering.

2.    Investigate along the foundation of your house. If there are any holes or gaps fill them up with steel wool. A hole that’s even the size of a thumb tack is big enough for a mouse to get through. Garage doors that sit a bit askew are also a problem. Get your garage service professional out ASAP.

3.    Don’t fill your bird feeders. Because yes, those cute cardinals snack up on bird seed. But so do mice. So, in essence, you’re offering them not only lodging but also a free buffet. Yank the bird feed. It’s your house. Not a Marriott for mice.

4.    Store your dog food in sealed containers. Same rationale as above.

5.    If you have to run from a mouse, avoid the periphery of the room. Mice are blind. They run in a path that hugs the wall. If you are afraid they might dash up your leg – they are, after all, blind – your path, in running from them, should be through the middle of the room.  

6.    If you think your mouse problem is over, don’t store the mouse traps on top of the refrigerator like my fella once did, without my knowledge. Mice are curious. Mice can climb. Use your imagination to envision what I found on top of the refrigerator one morning. Now use your imagination to envision what I yelled at my fella. Because this is a family friendly site so it can’t be reprinted.  

In sum, please don’t be afraid to come over to my house for dinner. Well, you should be a little afraid but only because of my cooking skills, not because our house has a mouse problem. Because it doesn’t anymore. Thanks to the aforementioned tips.

Happy mouse-proofing, guru girls and guys!

 

Book Recommend: Cursing Mommy's Book Of Days

My inner monologue sounds a lot like Cartman from “South Park”. I thought I was the only one. Turns out I’m not. Am in the middle of The Cursing Mommy’s Book Of Days. It’s a book that had me roaring with laughter last night.

 

Because the main character has an inner monologue similar to mine and Cartman! She gets into more misadventures than I do and is more bitter and swears a lot more. Otherwise, there are a lot of disturbing similarities between us.

Here’s the even more upsetting part: This character is written by a fella. The writer Ian Frazier to be specific. Evidently, he based this over-the-top character and book on a series of columns he wrote for The New Yorker. They were meant to satirize the life and times of modern moms and the world we live in.

Huh. My musings here on the blog are not satirical. They are honest accounts of the challenges in my daily life and tips about how you can meet these challenges better, thus avoiding some of the conundrums that have confronted me, such as our current one.

The 9 year old is participating in a talent show at our church this weekend. She wants to rap a song. This is not a problem. She is an excellent rapper. She wants to rap the song “I Got A Man” by Positive K. This is a problem. Because she’s, well, 9 and the song features lyrics such as “What am I, some crap inmate, just home from jail, sweatin’ you for a date?”

I can’t imagine this song would go over well at the talent show. So here’s my tip: I don’t care if it’s your jam. If it has wildly inappropriate lyrics, you should not repeatedly blast it on the i-pad as you dance around the kitchen and make dinner. This can have unforeseen consequences, beyond burning the chicken.

Bake Sale Best Seller: Owl Cupcakes

‘Tis the season of bake sales. I hate bake sales. Mostly because I hate baking. I once made chocolate chip cookies for the school bake sale, and they didn’t sell. They just sat there on the table. Not being bought. Possibly this is because they were a little flat. I have never managed to figure out the high altitude baking thing. Despite the fact that I’ve lived at high altitude for, oh, 14 years now.

But cupcakes? I’m your girl. I whip them up, using the recipe right off the back of the Pillsbury box. They are delicious and puffy, every time. But they lack some of the visual pizazz that makes a bake sale item a best seller.

So I was very excited when the newest member of our family, my cousin Tom’s wife, Jane, sent us this fabulous owl cupcake recipe. I don’t know where Jane got it, or I’d credit the source because I really think everyone should make these cupcakes, and then the mastermind behind them would get her own cooking show, which I could start watching instead of that stupid “Keeping Up With The Kardashians”, a habit which I can’t seem to k-k-k-kick.

 

In a nutshell, here’s how you make these owl cupcakes:

1.     Make your favorite cupcake.

2.    Frost with chocolate frosting.

3.    Break Oreo cookies apart. Use the piece with the frosting on it for the eyes. Use the other moon shape for the ears.

4.    Use M&Ms for the eyes and wedge a yellow one in sideways for the beak.

So cute! And so full of visual pizazz that your cupcakes will be the runaway best seller at the bake sale. You will have singlehandedly raised enough money for the school that there will be Promethean boards in every room and an organic salad bar for the cafeteria… a luxury that will then become part of the school’s vision statement, which will likely be amended to outlaw any sort of yummy treats at bake sales, such as owl cupcakes.   

4 Reasons Your Dog Skyrockets Your Blood Pressure

Quick. I need an emotional ceremony to attend. It could be a wedding, baptism, retirement bash. I’m open. That’s how annoyed I am with the dog. Usually when I attend any of these ceremonies I’m kind of an emotional mess. I think of irritating things Stanley, the dog, has done in order to keep it together. Sometimes it’s hard to think of enough things. Not this week.

1.     The dog is shedding. And by shedding I mean losing vast quantities of hair. All over the place. I brushed the stairs with a dog brush this morning. Because the vacuum cleaner can’t hack it anymore. And I’ve run out of sticky lint roller sheets.

I’m going to have to buy a new vacuum. Or else I’m going to have to visit one of those vacuum repair stores that you see on the side of the road that I’m pretty sure are a front for the mob. Are there really enough people out there with vacuum problems that we can support an entire storefront? We’re about to find out because I’m hauling the Dyson in there tomorrow.  

2.    The dog has taken to pooping in the bark chips. You know how much I love bark chips. Not so much anymore.

3.    The dog chases squirrels. He does this all year long, but he gets extra mileage in fall. This makes walks with Stanley feel less like I’m starring in my own communing-with-nature, feminine hygiene ad and more like I’m starring in that stupid video game my fella plays “Gears Of War”. Only my version features hiding squirrels instead of commandos and the only weapon of destruction is a lunging black lab mix.

4.    The dog finds dead squirrels. And when he finds them, he doesn’t give them up easily. This presents a problem if you’re a girly girl like me, loathe to engage in dead squirrel tug-of-war with the dog. Luckily I don’t have to.

This brings us to our tip of the day, gleaned from a very helpful neighbor who hollered it at me as Stanley and I were squaring off over his first dead squirrel find.  

Tip of the day: If your dog ever clamps down on something and won’t open his mouth to drop it, all you have to do is pick up your dog by his rear legs. You will look like you are pushing a wheel barrow. Only it’s your dog. Lift his legs up pretty high and shake him gently. The dog won’t be able to hold his grip on the offensive item in his mouth. This tricky move jams all the circuitry in his little doggy brain. My reasoning might be off here but the results are not. Stanley has dropped the squirrel every time.

Please note: this tip was meant as a service. I am already getting weird spam comments from some Russian autobot. I don’t want to start getting them from PETA too. So animal lovers, don’t get your undies in a bundle. I’m not telling people to try this move at home when they’re, say, bored on a Sunday afternoon. This move should only be tried out of necessity. And remember, it’s more humane than a torque bow.

 

                              Stanley, after a particularly exhausting squirrel chasing session
                                                                

Soundtrack Of The Day: Pitch Perfect

I was raised by a woman obsessed with movie soundtracks. She owns all of them, even the ones for movies she hasn’t seen. I blame her for the fact that last year I came this close to buying the soundtrack for “Country Strong”. But I put it back on the shelf because my musical taste is not quite as bad as our friend Mike believes. However, this weekend I found a movie soundtrack that more people than just myself and my mother are going to buy… the one from “Pitch Perfect”.

My fella and I saw the flick on Saturday. Yes, we were the only patrons over 16 in the audience. Yes, it was totally worth it. I smiled my way through most of the movie. That’s how hard I was rooting for the underdog characters. From my cushy, stadium seat I was willing them to succeed in the dog-eat-dog world of undergraduate acappella. Because that’s what the movie’s about -- a bunch of freshmen in college who join different vocal groups at their school. Then they battle it out for acappella dominance. Throw in a love story, some “who am I?” soul searching and good-natured hijinks, and we have ourselves a movie, a sweetly ironic movie with an even better soundtrack!

I’m a total sucker for the song mash ups “Glee” does every week. This movie’s mash ups make Glee’s look like child’s play. They are simply that good, and they’re accompanied by dance numbers that are even better. I’m getting the soundtrack this week, and can almost not wait to sit in some traffic. Because car dancing’s best done at red lights, not high speeds, and I guarantee Pitch Perfect’s gonna make me want to do both.*

 

 * Though never when I am driving the soccer carpool, which is when I listen to only dirge-like songs that eradicate any car-dancing urge. 

Why 40 Rocks

Have you ever mistakenly taken someone else’s cart at the grocery store? Forgotten to hit the ATM for cash so resorted to ransacking your 9 year old’s piggy bank? How about referred to your 9 year old as a 10 year old, in posts, for an entire week?

This is how long I’ve been 40 years old, and all of these things are what I’ve been up to. I have to say, for me, 40 is not looking so good. Here’s what is looking good about being 40:

1.     This rocking mix my fella made me. It has 40 songs on it, one for each year I’ve been alive. He assigned different years to different friends so when a song comes on, I get to guess which friend picked it.

I’m still a little mad about the rationale our friend Mike used when picking his assigned songs for my mix. This is what he told his wife and I quote, “Remember, you’re picking songs guru girl will like. Not necessarily good songs.”

So yes, Mike, every time Paula Abdul comes on the mix, I’m pretty sure it was your pick. And so maybe I like the songs but, in protest, I don’t sing along. Probably.  

On the other hand Mike’s wife knocked it out of the park with her selections, as did another friend, who chose John Denver and Christopher Cross. Does 70s music get any better? Don’t answer that, Mike.

Anne, a friend from high school, says she’s found turning 40 to be liberating. I do too. But not in the traditional sense. 40 seems to have liberated me from what little good sense I previously possessed. So if you happen to run into me in person at the grocery store, guard your cart. That’s what our 9 year old is doing with her piggy bank, at least until her mother calms down with the erratic behavior and starts acting like a person with a clue again.

The only other good thing about turning 40 was visiting Bachelor Ben's tasting room and getting my fella to act out key romantic moments from Bachelor Ben's season.