50-50

It's been quite a while since I added to my 100 Things, which I started in honor of my 100th post. If I'm not careful I won't get it done before my 200th post. If you're new here and you want to see numbers 100-61, you can look here, here, here, and here.

60. I don't like for my shoulders or my collarbone to be cold.

59. I hold my breath when I read. My mom always used to ask me what I was sighing about but really I was just catching up on my breathing.

58. I'm a huuugggee baseball fan. Well, I myself am not huge, but I really do love baseball.

57. And football. Especially college football, though lately I do find myself watching the pros as well.

56. I've never seen any of The Godfather movies.

55. Yet I can quote Valley Girl line for line.

54. Other than a layover in the San Francisco airport, I've never been west of Dallas, TX.

53. If I were 15 years younger I would probably get my nose pierced.

52. I don't really like ice cream. I will eat it occasionally, but I don't crave it.

51. I used to want six or seven kids. Until I had one.

And there we go. We're halfway to the finish line. I think I got my second wind. I'm gonna need it for this weekend. We're having a yardsale at which I will try to talk people in buying the crap that I don't want anymore.

I Got Lost on the Fashion Highway

I have a problem. I don't know how to dress stylishly anymore. I don't know what looks good me anymore and I don't really know what kind of clothes are appropriate for my age. No mutton dressed as lamb for me, thank you very much! In her post the other day, Anglophile Football Fanatic said she had set some fashion rules for herself once she turned 30 and I guess I have too. But now it seems like I've ruled everything out.

I think a lot of this has to do with not really having gone shopping in a long time. Occasionally I'll pick up a shirt here or there, but it's been a really long time since I went out with the express purpose of buying some clothes.

In preparation for our move I went through my closet and finally cleaned it out. I got rid of some things that haven't seen the light of day in a couple of years. I kept holding on to most of it in hopes that one day I could fit back into them again, but the sad truth is that even if I could get into them, they would probably be hopelessly out of style.

When I do go to mall, I rarely see anything that I like. And if I do find something I like and put it on, I'm really unhappy with the way it looks on my body. See, I've got another problem. In my mind, I'm very tall and thin. Which is pretty great most of the time . I walk around feeling mostly good about myself. But when I'm confronted with reality, say, looking at my arms straining against the fabric in a fluorescent lighted dressing room, or the front of my flat-front pants not lying flat like they're supposed to, or seeing myself in a photograph, well, that's when my house of cards comes crashing down.

I wish I could be one of those women who can really put things together. Like my friend over at Stay At Home Mom Going Quickly Insane. Did you know she just started a fashion blog? It's called Little Miss Blackwell and she put her first post up today. In her regular blog she's always describing really cute outfits and I mentioned how envious I was of her style -- though her shoes, while cute, are way beyond me. So she put her magic to work for me and she's sort of become my own personal shopper. She emailed me the other day about a really cute outfit that I've definitely got my eye on. She doesn't know me in real life, but she nailed my style pretty well.

I think it's because I'm in my 30s. I can't really shop at Forever 21 anymore but I'm not ready for Misses Sportswear (read: old lady clothes) just yet either.

I Was Right, I Was Riiight!

Which, you know, I pretty much always am. Or at least that's what I'd like Mr. Daddy to believe. But at least I will admit when I'm wrong, unlike some people. (That sound you hear is all the people I know laughing their heinies off!)

But I digress.

So have you heard the news about Starbucks? They're closing for three hours today for barista training. According to an article I read, Howard Schultz wants all the employees to be re-educated in the "art of espresso."

You know, back in the days when Mr. Daddy was a barista, they used to have to actually pull shots of espresso. It had to be timed just right and if your shot didn't pour for a certain number of seconds it wasn't a good pull and you were supposed to toss it. In recent years, in an effort to speed things up, Starbucks switched to automated espresso machines and all baristas had to do was push a button. Easier? Yes. Faster? Definitely. As good? I don't think so.

Back when Mr. Daddy used to manage a Starbucks he used to have problems with his baristas not making drinks properly. Every drink has a very specific recipe and baristas are supposed to follow that, with the exception of customer directed changes (i.e., an extra pump of syrup, dry, wet, extra hot, etc., though I have always said that customers should be limited to three adjectives per drink!) Mr. Daddy's boss did not support Mr. Daddy's view on this and actually told Mr. Daddy that he shouldn't be so hard on them for not making drinks properly (or actually showing up to work on time -- oh the humanity -- but that's another story altogether!)

This used to infuriate me. See, I'm a huge proponent of excellence in customer service. Add to that the fact that I'm a very strict recipe follower and you have yourself a good old fashioned know-it-all -- me! Have you ever had a mocha with not enough mocha in it? Blech! If I'm going to pay $4+ for a coffee drink, it better damn well be the most delicious thing that ever crossed my lips, you know what I'm sayin'?

And that's another thing, Mr. Schultz. You have 7,100 stores. I know we're all about making a buck, but I think you could afford to cut the cost of your coffee just a little bit. Do you know why McDonalds and Dunkin Donuts are cutting into your market share? Because for the average American, a $2 mocha at Dunkin Donuts tastes just the same as a $4 mocha at Starbucks. I bet if you cut the price of your coffees, your profits would double because more people would buy. Heck, I could sure afford a $2 coffee more often than I can a $4 coffee.

So, go ahead, close your stores for a couple of hours. Train your baristas to make the drinks the way they were meant to made. And next time you wonder what to do? Just ask me. 'Cause I could have told you all of this four years ago.

My Awards Show Has a First Name, It's O-S-C-A-R!

And here to present this week's Cool Cat Award is Last Year's Winner Tootsie Farklepants. Tootsie won for her roll in Vintage Thirty.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this week's Cool Cat Award goes to....Madame Queen!"


See how I did that? Aren't I clever, with my homage to the Oscars? But seriously, a big ol' thanks to Tootsie for this award. I'll be brief with my thanks before the music runs me off stage. And so we don't have to wait 'til next year, I'm going to pass this Cool Cat Award along to Fannie at This Isn't What I Ordered, Lulu over at Lulu's Laundry and my fashion minded friend over at Stay at Home Mom Going Quickly Insane.

Zzzzzzz....oh, sorry! Dozed off there for a minute. Staying up about two hours past your bedtime will do that to you. And I don't even know why I felt compelled to watch. I haven't seen a single one of the films nominated last night. FOR ANYTHING!! Not even Sound Mixing. Or Sound Editing. Which really, what is the difference there?

BUT, I love to watch the Oscars. I love the inevitable and often interminable montages. I love the fashion. And on that note, didn't you think last night was kind of....blah. There was nobody godawful, though Daniel Day Lewis' wife was close, but nobody made me say "Holy Smokes!" either.

The Highlights:

1. Helen Mirren's dress. I want to grow up to be Helen Mirren.

2. Tilda Swinton teasing George about his nipples.

3. Best Song winner "Falling Slowly." What a gorgeous song. And big kudos to Jon Stewart for bringing Markita Irglova back so that she could give her speech.

Just a quick aside here...why, when a man and a woman win an award does the man always go up to the mic first and use up all the time? Why? You can bet your bahookie that if I ever win an academy award and my co-winner is a man, I'm going first.

The Lowlights:

1. Oh, Reege. Must you be so frantic?!

2. Sarah Larson. Girl, if you're gonna be with The Clooney, you've got to represent! What was that dress? I could do my hair better than that. Do you even have a voice? George, George, George. I really think you could do better (me, me, me, pick me!)

3. Cameron Diaz? Girl, it's called sunscreen. Invest in some. Oh, and put on some lips while you're at it. Did you and your stylist have a falling out? (Updated to add: "Putting on lips" in my family means putting on some lipstick. I didn't want anyone to think I was condoning in any way those heinous duck lips everyone seems to be sporting these days!)

4. Low star power. Where were all the big players? Where were Angie and Brad? Tom and Katie. I know where J. Lo is, but it just seemed like a lot of people were missing this year. Did anybody else notice that?

So, there's my postmortem. Maybe I'll get around to watching a few of these movies before the next Oscars. What was your highlight? Your lowlight?

Monday After the Oscars

No post today.

Too many pretty dresses.

Up wayyyy too late.

Jennifer Garner's boobs way too squished.

More later.

TGIF

I went to a Tupperware party tonight. I drove half an hour to get there in the pitch black, pouring down rain and a half hour back in the pitch black, pouring down rain.

I'm Tupper-worn out, y'all.

So, I'm going to do something a little different. A couple of weeks ago, Angie at All Adither mentioned something about Flash Fiction Friday. I'm not sure if she's created her button for it yet, but I was intrigued by the idea and wanted to try it.

I'm not sure if what I've written here counts as Flash Fiction, because honestly I'm not 100% sure what that means, but the thought of putting it here is giving me hot flashes, so that's got to count for something, right? (How do you fiction writers do it?)

And awayyyy we go......breathe....breathe....where are those paper bags when you need them?

When the alarm clock went off at 5:00, Becca leaned over quickly and switched it off. She was always quick to silence it so it wouldn’t wake the baby. No snooze button for her. She’d gotten quite good at lying there for a few minutes without falling back asleep. Sort of her own inner snooze button. She reached over and grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand. She knew she shouldn’t. I mean good Lord everybody had been after her to quit since even before the baby was born. And she was going to. Just not today. If she was going to be at her best today, then today was not the day to quit smoking. Tomorrow. Like Scarlett always said, tomorrow is another day.

Well, there was no time to lay around pretending to be Scarlett O’Hara. She had to get going. She wanted to get up and eat some breakfast in peace, hopefully, and then get a shower before she woke the baby up for the day. Sometimes she’d be about half way through her bowl of cereal when she’d hear the first stirrings from the room at the end of the hall. Usually a rustling, followed by a small cry. Sometimes she’d ignore it and Lucas would go back to sleep. Sometimes he’d have himself worked up to a full blown scream before she could get to his room and pick him up. But it was shocking how irritated she was that she couldn’t even finish a bowl of cereal in peace. The irritation was quickly followed by guilt because surely Lucas was hungry too.

Mystery Theater Thursday

duh duh DUHHHH....

For those of y'all that don't know, Lulu over at Lulu's Laundry recently created Mystery Theater Thursday. If you have a mystery, you can post about it and hopefully one of your readers can help you solve it. Go check out her MTT page -- it's hilarious.

So, okay, y'all. I have a mystery. Well, it might not be a mystery to you, but it's a mystery to me -- or a misdemeanor to me, as we say in my family. What can I say, my mother was a probation officer.

I have these lamps, see.


And I love these lamps. I've had them for a couple of years and I used to have them on my mantle at my old house. But here's my problem. The base of these lamps are silver and they tarnish like a son-of-a-biscuit eater and I HATE that. You can't really tell from this photo, but the one on the left is nice and shiny. The one on the right? Black as the ace of spades.

Is there something, ANYTHING, I can do to keep them from tarnishing? Besides polishing them weekly, I mean, 'cause that's just not gonna' happen.

Or am I being silly? Is a little tarnish okay? Does that give them a "shabby chic" look or does it just look shabby?

Help me, lovely internets. Surely there's a Heloise among you.

An Open Letter to the Girls in this Town

But first...bloggy awards!! Karen over at The Rocking Pony gave me these blog awards last week and I've either been too forgetful or too cranky to pass them on. It just didn't seem right to hand out bloggy awards when I'm feeling meaner than a striking snake (or a stripe-ed snake as my college roommate used to say.)

Anyway, here are the awards:


I'd like to pass these on to AndreAnna at Diary of a Modern Matriarch and Niki over at Impostor Mom. Thanks for being my friend, ladies!

Now, back to my letter...

Girls, for that's really what you are, it's February. I know, I know, we had some warm weather this weekend. Astonishingly warm really. And it can make things a little confusing. I get that. But this is Georgia, people. We all know it can be like this. Seventy degrees one day, 30 degrees the next. There is absolutely no reason that you should be outside in your little cheerleader shorts and t-shirts.

Okay, so you threw on some Uggs. I'll give you that. But I don't think that those extra three inches of fur-lined shoe is going to keep you warm. And you have to be doing it for the warmth, right? Please don't tell me that's actually the look you're going for. But I will have to say that at least you're not wearing the ever present flip flop that has taken over the world, though I did spy a couple of blue toes on you boys with your jeans and your flip flops.

Listen, I feel your pain. I really do. I'm just as sick of my winter wardrobe as you are of yours. My skin longs to feel the sunshine and the warm breezes, too. BUT. February. It is February, girls. There are no warm breezes. You are wishful dressing and you need to stop.

Here's a tip: www.weather.com. Bookmark it. Or if you want get your weather nerd on, go to www.noaa.gov.

Sincerely,
A Very Crotchety, PMS-ing, Only Slightly Green with Envy , Not-Young-But-Not-Yet-Old Woman

If It Ain't One Damn Thing, It's Another

Now let me go on record to say that I'm not a big fan of the word "ain't," but sometimes it just expresses a feeling so succinctly and no other word will do. This is one of those times.

In other words, Punkin's sick. I'm well -- thanks for all the good wishes. I really don't even know what was wrong with me. I had a little chest congestion and just felt plain lousy most of Saturday night and Sunday morning. I thought I was coming down with Mr. Daddy's flu, but by Sunday afternoon I was feeling a mite perkier.

Punkin' on the other hand, well, she's not feeling so hot. They called me from school around 2:00 and said she'd thrown up twice. And since then she's thrown up twice more. Ah, good times, good times.

Anyhoo, I have a question I want to pose to y'all. And sorry guys, but this one is for the ladies -- if there ARE any guys out there reading this. If there are, if you are of the male persuasion, you might just want to click on out of here.

Once a month, it gets to be that time. You know. THAT time. And not only do I feel fat and bloated and miserable, but I also lose any ideas for a blog post that I might have ever had. In fact, I sort of start to hate blogging.

I didn't tie it together at first. It just seemed like every now and then I would get really burned out on blogging. Couldn't think of a single thing to write about. Wondered why in the heck I ever thought this was a good idea.

Then, the next month I started feeling that way again. Same thing the next month. It was about then that I put two and two together.

Does PMS kill your creativity too? Has anybody done a study on this? Is there a Creativity Motrin than I can take?

Please tell me I'm not the only one!

Why?

Why is that when you find one of your favorite movies on television and it comes to the absolute saddest part and you're getting ready to have yourself a nice little cry, why is that every member of your family, though they were all in other parts of the house just moments before, decide that they must speak with you at that very moment. (Fried Green Tomatoes, when Ruth dies. "Let her go. Miss Ruth was a lady and a lady always knows when to leave." sob)

Why is it that when you're about to start a more sensible eating plan (Hello Weight Watchers!) you feel like you're starving every second and could eat every morsel of food in the house?

Why is that in a really good western, the good guy has to die?

And finally, why is it that I always get sick on the weekend and never during the week so that I can have some time off?

Love From Afar

Guess what Mr. Daddy got for Valentine's Day? The Flu!! I know, right? Worst.Valentine's. Present.Ever. Well, I didn't give it to him, that's for sure. But definitely no smooches for him tonight.

Actually, this isn't the worst valentine's day I've ever had. That distinction belongs to the one from my 9th grade year. That was the year that I met Gerry at the mall. Gerry was gorgeous! He was a model. If I were talking I would use air quotes when I say this because my 36 year old self is not really be sure if he was telling the truth about that. He had some head shots -- I know because he gave me one. But I'm not really sure he was a working model. I mean, he lived in the mountains in North Georgia for pete's sake.

Anyway, he was older than I was and my parents weren't too keen on him, but he lived a couple of hours away so I don't think they worried too much. I wasn't allowed to date at that point, but my mom did allow him to come and visit me at our house. We hung out and watched t.v. I had a huge crush on him and I won't lie that a big part of it was the fact that he was a "model" (everybody do the air quotes!). It didn't take much to impress a small town girl like me.

After his visit we talked on the phone almost daily for a couple of weeks and we made plans for Valentine's Day. The local teen center was having a dance and I invited him. But I had another surprise up my sleeve.

I was going to make him a cake! And not just any cake. A Valentine's Cake! I mean, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right? So anyway, on Valentine's Day I slaved in the kitchen all day making a beautiful heart shaped cake. It was white trimmed in red icing and in the middle it read "Be Mine." It was the most beautiful cake I've ever made (not that I've made many, but still!) and somewhere there exists a photo of me, dressed in a red sweater and white pants, admiring my handiwork.

I couldn't wait to show Gerry the cake. He was supposed to arrive at my house at 6:00. But six came and went. No Gerry.

Seven came and went. Still no Gerry. I was in agony.

Finally, around 7:30, the phone rang. Gerry. "I'm so sorry. I've been at a modeling gig all day and they wouldn't let me use a phone. I'm so sorry. I should be finishing up here pretty soon and then I'll come to your house."

8:00. Nothing. 9:00. Nothing. At 9:30 the phone rings again. "Oh, I'm still here. I don't think I'm going to be able to get away after all. I'll call you tomorrow."

And that was the last I heard from Gerry.

My ninth grade heart was broken. How could he do this to me? But most importantly, what was I going to do with this CAKE? What did happen to the cake, you ask? I don't remember. I probably ate it, but I wish I had thrown it against something. It probably would have felt pretty good. And definitely better for my thighs.

As you can see, that was a pretty sucky Valentine's Day. SO, even though tonight was no romantic dream and Mr. Daddy is as sick as I've ever seen him, at least I know he loves me. And he would never stand me up.

Here's my other sweetheart.


Oh! And before I forget, thanks for all your advice. I'm probably going to switch to Wordpress, but probably not until after we move, which will be in mid-March. Moving my family and moving my blog all at the same time is just too much for me to think about right now!

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!

Do You Love Me?

Dear Blogger,

Okay, see, here's the thing. We've been together a while now and we've had some good times, right? Remember that first post? Gosh, I was sooo nervous that night. But lately, well, lately I've been feeling the need to stretch my wings a little. I'm growing, Blogger. I'm not the same person I used to be. And I just feel like I don't want to be tied down right now. It's not you. It's me. Okay, it IS you a little bit. It's just that you seem so old fashioned. And, um, "things" don't always work like they should, if you get my drift. So anyway, I think we need some time apart, Blogger. I think I want to see other people. But I'll always love you.

Sincerely,
Madame Queen

Now, gentle readers, where should I go? Wordpress? Typepad? Which do you use and do you have a preference?

I'm nervous about moving...will you guys follow me? I hope so. I haven't made up my mind 100% but I'm just frustrated by a lot of stuff right now. That little "What I'm listening to" icon at the top right? Well half the time when I look at it there's nothing to click. But then sometimes there is. Blogger help says I need to clear my cache to solve this problem, but I don't want to have to do that all the time. And what if you can't see anything up there. You might not know you need to clear your cache and then my blog just looks stupid.

So anyway, which should I choose? Bachelor #1 (Wordpress) or Bachelor #2 (Typepad). Or is there a Bachelor #3 that I don't even know about?

In honor of Valentine's Day tomorrow, I'm going to leave you with some pictures from Bubba's sweetheart dance today. Y'all, that was the sweetest, most fun thing I've ever done. You know it's love when you'll stand up and do the Chicken Dance and the YMCA with a group of 20 5-year-olds!

Love is in the Air

Did I tell you the first thing Mr. Daddy bought with some of our windfall? Did I? Take a gander:

I'm getting new dishes! After ten, almost eleven, years of eating off the same dishes, I'm getting this gorgeous scarlet Fiestaware set. I'm so giddy it's almost like getting married all over again.

On another love related note, Bubba has a Sweetheart Dance at school tomorrow. This morning as we were getting ready, I heard Mr. Daddy and Bubba talking.

"Do you have a girlfriend these days, Bubba?"

"NO!" he replied gruffly, with just a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

"Did a girl break your heart?"

"NO!"

"Has a girl been mean to you? 'Cause they'll do that sometimes, you know."

At this point I could no longer hold my peace. "Yeah, they'll do that to you if you're a...a..." I fumbled for something appropriate to say in front of a 5-year-old.

"If you're a silly boy" Bubba piped up.

Well, that wasn't quite what I was thinking, but it'll do.

I'm off to make pigs in a blanket for tomorrow's preschool soiree. 'Cause nothing says love like miniature hotdogs wrapped in a croissant.

Memory Lane Monday

I've decided that today is Memory Lane Monday. This may be an occasionally occurring series of Madame Queen flashbacks. We may go back thirty years, we may only go back five. Tonight we're going back 25 years and tonight's trip down memory lane is brought to you by Michael Jackson. And Angie over at All Adither. Yesterday in her Confession Sunday post, she alerted me to the fact the the 25th Anniversary edition of Thriller is now available and I immediately went down the wormhole of memory. And if you read my comment on her blog, you know where this story is going.

For me, a lot of memories are tied to music. And when I was in 6th grade, the video for Thriller came out right about the same time I was invited to my first boy/girl party. I couldn't wait to go to this party.

This was back when neon colors were all the rage and my mom bought me the coolest outfit to wear. It was a neon green, blousy cotton top and white pants with neon pink, green, and yellow zigzags all over them. I also had these amazing neon green chain mail earrings that hung all the way to my shoulders. I was HOT. Well, as hot as a sixth grader could be. I was definitely cool.

Now I had had boyfriends fairly steadily ever since third grade, but I had never been kissed. And frankly, the thought of being kissed scared me pretty much to death. In fact, my fifth grade boyfriend had broken up with me because I wouldn't kiss him at 4-H camp. But as soon as everybody found out I was going to the party, they all started talking about how my boyfriend, Alec, and I would have to kiss.

I tell you, I almost didn't go.

The night started out fine. Everybody gathered in Jason's parents' living room to watch the video for Thriller. We turned out the lights and ate popcorn and everybody was so amazed when little innocent Michael turned into a werewolf (HEY! is that a metaphor that we all missed?!).

But then. Then. The video was over and it was time for the dancing to begin. Everybody went down to Jason's basement. They had a big stereo set up and streamers and balloons were everywhere. They had moved the furniture to the edges of the room so we could dance, but I saw it for what it really was. A trap!

A slow song came on. I can't even remember what it was -- adrenaline had taken over at that point -- and Alec and I were dancing. Then, the lights went out. And the next thing I knew his mouth was on mine and his tongue was down my throat.

I'm pretty sure I remember thinking "Who in the world came up with this and what made them think this would be fun?" It wasn't fun. It wasn't exciting. It was just...slimy. And nauseating.

So nauseating, in fact, that when the lights came on I had to flee upstairs. And there I sat, upstairs with Jason's parents, waiting on my mom to arrive.

Alec was confused and I think his feelings were a little bit hurt. There's nothing quite so embarrassing as making your girlfriend sick with your kiss. A couple of people were teasing me. I'm pretty sure I lost a lot of social cred that night. But at least I kept my dinner.

Leave Your Credulity at the Door

When I was younger, my cousin Melissa and I were playing in her mother's bedroom. Melissa's younger brother, Michael, who was about 7 or 8 at the time, joined us. We were probably being nosy and looking through her mother's dresser when Michael pulled out a very slinky black nightie. Holding it away from his body like it might have been a snake, his face a mixture of disbelief and incomprehension, he said "I ain't BELIEVIN' this!"

That phrase has become a staple in our house. This weekend I have said that phrase numerous times. Here's why.

Back in the day when Mr. Daddy was a Starbucks manager, if you passed your tests or met certain goals you were rewarded. With lapel pins. I know. Great, right? Woo hoo and all that.

Well.

It turns out that those little pins are quite collectible. Mr. Daddy found his while doing some packing for our move, checked eBay and saw that some were selling for about $20 so we said "SWEET! Free money for some silly pins." And he listed them, two of them together. This is the first set:


The price quickly went above $2o, so he listed the second set. Here they are:


The first auction ended yesterday. Guess how much they sold for? Go on, GUESS!

One hundred and fifty two dollars!!! Yes, you read that correctly! $152.00!! For some Starbucks pins!!

The second auction ended about 2 hours ago. Guess how much the second set sold for?

$152.00!!! I ain't BELIEVIN' this!

But guess what the best part is? He's still has two more....

We're in the money! We're in the money!!

I Want to Be in Pictures....

I'm so glad y'all enjoyed the breaking up poem. I've come across a few other gems while packing that I'll be sharing with you. Sort of a fashion retrospective, if you will.

But now, let's get down to business. I wanted to do All Adither's Flash Fiction Friday, an idea I LOVE, but today was crazy-busy at work and I don't have anything prepared. Next week for sure! So, I decided to do this meme I've seen on a couple blogs recently. Lulu did it yesterday. Impostor Mom did it today. I And I think it's neat and I'm curious to see what I come up with.

If you want to do it, here are the rules. You have to answer the questions below using only the images from the first page of your google image search. And awaaaayyy we go...

1. The age you will be on your next birthday.















2. A place you'd like to visit. Oh boy, would I?














3. Your favorite place.
















4. Your favorite object.















5. Your favorite food. Look at my thighs. Can't you tell?














6. Your favorite animal. Just look at that face. How could you not love that face?





















7. Your favorite color. I once walked around TJ Maxx for AN HOUR with a $200 dollar pink and brown purse in my cart. It was gorgeous. The leather was like buttah, but I couldn't bring myself to spend the cash.












8. The city in which you were born. This should be very interesting.














9. The town in which you live.














10. The name of your pet. I have two....
























11. The first name of your love.





















12. Your nickname/screen name. Ooh, I like this. I might just steal it. Ahem, I mean use it and properly credit it.





















13. Your middle name. Yeah, that's me. Snort, snort, guffaw!




















14. Your last name. You'll just have to figure this one out for yourself.




















15. A bad habit of yours. Just ask Mr. Daddy.










16. Your first job.











17. Your dream job.



















18. Your current job.









19. A picture you find hilarious.




















20. A picture that inspires you.














I've been informed that Sixteen Candles is on. Must go watch.

Love/Hate

Do you know what I hate? Those letters that you have to type in for validation to prove you're not spam. I know, I know. I have those letters on my site, but seriously. Sometimes they're so squinchy that you can't tell what they are. I promise I'm not spam! A necessary evil.

Do you know what I love? This:

Tootsie Farklepants at Vintage Thirty gave me this award. I'm just tickled pink. I'm passing this award along to Esme at Blowtorch in the Middle -- she knows why -- and to Lauren over at Full Hands Mom. And finally, to my good friend Lulu over at Lulu's Laundry. Thanks for being my blogging buddies!

Do know what I hate? What Brittany Murphy has done to her lips. Look!

She used to be so cute. She used to have the #1 lips that people requested when they went to have a little something "done." Now? Well, now it looks like she got her lips caught in a drain.

Do you know what I love? I love when viruses only last 24 hours. By the time I got home today Bubba was his usual chipper self. I'm completely convinced though that he had been saving up every thought that entered his head while he was feeling poorly and as soon as he began to recover the words started pouring out. The.child.has.not.stopped.talking.

A funny exchange he and I had: He asked me a question I didn't know the answer to. I said "I couldn't tell you, Bubba"

"Come on," he cajoled. "You can tell me."

Do you know what I hate? Being stared at by creepy old men. On Sunday in Savannah, we made our daily pilgrimage to the shrine of the Starbuck where we enjoyed our caffeinated beverages and a tasty pastry. I kind of felt an old man staring at me but then I started reading the paper and forgot all about him.

Do you know what I love? A husband who gets rid of creepy old staring men. "You're being stared at." Mr. Daddy announced loudly. Huh? "I'm trying to embarrass him to make him stop staring at my wife" he said, this time even louder. I didn't look to see if the old man was still staring. But yay for Mr. Daddy!

Do you know what I hate? Packing to move. Or to be more precise, sorting to pack to move. Ugh.

But do you know what I love? Finding a poem in a box in the attic that my sixth grade boyfriend wrote to me. It is a breaking up poem, to be precise. And now I'm going to share it with you. (Please note that I am copying this EXACTLY as it was written).

I am so sorry I am
drying up by the sun.
But now I can not
have so much fun.
I love you and only you cause
that's very true,
I wish we could get married
but that wouldn't work out
because we have a lot of doubts.
I don't want to see you again
because we can't be a friend.
Tell everyone I said I love you all
and I said Hey, but always
remember that I am not Gay.
I may grow up and be
the American President or I might
teach baby's how to eat a mint.
But for now I am just an ordinary fellow, Bye and tell every-
one hello.

I love you,
I truley do.

Ah, young love.

And We're Back....

...to Reality. Wanna know how I know? Because Bubba's school called today at 4:00 saying he was running a fever. Mr. Daddy picked him up from school and I got home just in time for the great vomit clean up of 2008. It's going around. I was just hoping that it wasn't going to go around here. Mir lets her kids have her bed, but I keep mine sequestered to their rooms. That way I have some hope I can keep it contained. Last we checked his fever was 102.4. Should be an interesting night.

Anyhoo, back to our Savannah adventures.

After Starkey Flythe's reading, we headed over to the Jepson Center to hear John Berendt. It was interesting to hear his insight into Savannah and his take on Savannah-isms -- those phrases you only hear in Savannah. An amusing one was "or either." In most parts of the country you would say "I'm going to wear either the blue dress or the black one." According to Mr. Berendt, in Savannah you would say "I'm going to wear the blue dress or either the black one." A small distinction, one might say, but the cultural divide between the two is great. I will say, though, that one is not necessarily contained to Savannah.

And that reminded me of my friend Liz who moved to Savannah from California and suffered from major culture shock. Once she tried to ask me the meaning of a phrase she kept hearing, but she couldn't even remember what it was to ask me.

"It's so weird" she said. "I've never heard these words together before and I can't remember what they are. OH!" she exclaimed suddenly. "'Might could'. That's what it is. What the hell does that even mean?"

I laughed hysterically. "Well, if someone asks you if you could bring cheese dip to the company party, you say 'I might could.'" I'm not sure that clarified anything for her. In actuality it is the equivalent of saying "Maybe," but I swear I think I prefer "might could."

After hearing John Berendt, we went to a local burger place that was a favorite of ours back in the day. Mr. Daddy ordered a hamburger with a FRIED EGG on top and then debated whether he should add mayonnaise.

The afternoon was capped off with a talk by Paul Hemphill. Mr. Hemphill recently published a biography of Hank Williams that is getting excellent reviews. I was slightly unsettled by his storytelling. It was peppered occasionally with the n-word. He was using it to tell a story about his own father's racial intolerance, but I really hate to hear that word in any context.

After a quick nap at the hotel, we headed to Matt and Erica's house. Whereupon I promptly threw up (metaphorically speaking) all over Erica because she has not gained one ounce that's not baby so far in her pregnancy. Also? She has made the cutest maternity jeans for herself. Along with some adorable curtains and has picked out the cutest fabrics to sew curtains, bumpers, rocking chair pillows and basket liners for her nursery. Can you say gag me?

But then she made up for it by making the most delicious shrimp and grits for supper. It was perfectly creamy, cheesey grits topped with green and red peppers, shrimp and bacon. I mean seriously, I'm not sure you could put more perfect foods together. She's promised to share the recipe and as soon as she does I'll share it with you.

After dinner I gave her the book of your advice I put together for them. I called it "What We Wish We Knew..." She seemed really touched. She's a little nervous...she said she doesn't even know what she doesn't know. On one hand I wanted to give her the benefit of my experience but on the other hand I didn't want to seem like a know-it-all mom who has it all together or who knew what she was doing from day one, 'cause good Lord that's certainly not the truth! We had a really lovely visit with them and it just reminded me what good friends they are and how much I miss them.

And that wraps up today's edition. Come back tomorrow for the most exciting event yet -- Mr. Daddy gets a man told in the Bull and Broughton Starbucks.

A Lovely Time Was Had by All.

First off, sorry for the confusion with the blog exchange -- even Mr. Daddy got confused today when he sat down to read. He was like "Who is Boog?" I hope everyone enjoyed it, though. I thought it was fun. Thanks again, Niki, for asking me. And thanks for doing all the legwork since I was out of town.

And speaking of being out of town...what a lovely weekend we had.

On Friday morning we dropped the kids off at daycare and headed out of town. It was raining and about 34 degrees. As we drove south, the rain lessened, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. When we arrived in Savannah it was a breezy 60-something degrees. Ahhh....heaven.

First stop, Byrd Cookie Company, the company I used to work for. It was a great place to work and a lot of the people I worked with are still there. If you ever need a gourmet food gift -- or heck, even some for yourself! -- I highly recommend their cookies. The key lime coolers are the best and kind of their claim to fame. But the pumpkin spice cookies are pretty good, too. And the chocolate mint. And the oatmeal.

At 5:30 on Saturday we went to the Lucas Theater in downtown Savannah for the keynote event of the Savannah Book Festival. The Lucas is a 1920s era theater that has been completely and gorgeously restored. John Berendt introduced Terry Kay, the keynote speaker. I know Terry Kay a little bit. My department coordinates the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame and he's on the Board . But it was fascinating to see him in front of this huge crowd. He had them eating out of his hand, hanging on every word. And it was fascinating to hear him talk about writing and the writing process. Pat Conroy actually had to trick Terry into writing his first book and he admits that he still doesn't feel like a "writer," though he has published 1o novels.

Afterwards we got to go hobnob with the elite of Savannah, as well as some of the authors. I met Mary Kay Andrews (she has also written mysteries under the name Kathy Hogan Trochek, which happens to be her real name). I also met Sonny Seiler -- though that name won't mean much to most of you, to Dawg fans he is the equivalent of royalty. He has owned all the Uga's since the 1950s and is the current owner of Uga VI, pictured below.

If you've read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Sonny was also Jim Williams' attorney, and actually played the part of the judge in the movie version. So that was pretty interesting.

BUT, he was not the MOST interesting person I met that night. That distinction belongs to a man who was standing near me for a large portion of the evening. I was fascinated by him because he looked like your stereotypical idea of a debauched, hard living author. His hair was a little mussed, his hands slightly trembly, and his beard couldn't decide if it wanted to be a beard or a five o'clock shadow. I finally asked someone who he was and that's how I came to meet Starkey Flythe. And seriously now, is that not the best name ever? A man with a name like that is just bound to be interesting, right? By trade, Starkey Flythe is a poet. But I think he spends his days as an eccentric. Mr. Daddy and I had a fascinating conversation with him on Friday night and then he remembered us when we went to his reading again on Saturday morning and chatted with us again. I think he's my new favorite person.

Interesting digression, Mr. Flythe's host for the festival was a local Judge named Louisa Abbot. Her mother, Louise Abbot, was a close friend of Flannery O'Connor. Very cool.

On Saturday we awoke early and headed down to Telfair Square. Mr. Flythe's poetry reading was our first event. I've decided that I'm a fan of poetry after all. I had sort of suffered through poetry during high school and college. I find that poetry is especially interesting if you can hear it read aloud -- you can hear the rhythm, the humor, the wordplay. It's even better when you can hear the author himself read them. If you get a chance, you should check out some of Mr. Flythe's poems.

I feel like this is running a little long....tune in tomorrow for the rest of Saturday's adventures.

Rerun

Lately my days themselves seem like one big rerun. I get up, shower, try my best to get myself ready and wrangle the boy without waking my husband. Then it's off to daycare and work. The afternoons aren't much more exciting with picking up Boog and getting home to make dinner and complete the nightly routine.

I am well aware that the routines are necessary. Children thrive on routine. At least that is what the books say and who am I to argue. Boog certainly seems to do better with sleep and generally be in a more pleasant mood when we are following our usual routine. For me sometimes though I get bored. I remember the days when 5 o'clock seemed early. There was still so much day left.

Not anymore. When I look at the clock and see 5 o'clock all I see is the mountain of things that must be done before my head can hit the pillow. No more leisurely evenings running errands or window shopping. No more watching my television shows until late into the night. (You know, back when there was TV on to be watched.)

It isn't that I don't love my life and feel lucky to have what I have. I certainly love that child more than life itself. And I love my husband as well even if I don't like him all the time. I just feel like I carry this weight on my shoulders sometimes and it gets heavier and heavier as the week goes on. It makes me feel old before my time. It makes me think of what is coming next and rushing to get there.

Maybe that is my problem. Maybe I need to take some advice from the House of Joy and slow down. Not rush things so much. Not wish for the next stage hoping that things will be easier. Otherwise I may just miss a lot of what is going on now, right in front of me while my little boy is growing up so fast.

Maybe my rerun days and nights are my one opportunity to relish this time when he's so small yet so big at the same time. Soon there will be less cuddles, less laughs and less playtime. There will be less interest in spending time with mommy and daddy and then I will truly miss my rerun days that seemed so boring at the time.

Madame Queen is kind enough to host my post here today as a part of the February Blog Exchange. In honor of Groundhog Day our topic this month is Rerun.

I'm Niki and I write ImpostorMom. I am a 29 year old mother, wife and professional. I write about new motherhood, family and life in general. Go check out ImpostorMom to see Madame Queen's post today.

Same Bat Time, Same Bat Station

Well, we're off on our Savannah odyssey tomorrow. I'm super excited in case you didn't know. And if you didn't know, where in the heck have you been? Because that's all I've been talking about for a week now!

The only thing about it that's going to suck is that I have to drive the entire weekend. Since I'm going for work we get to take a state car, but since I'm the only one registered to drive it, it's all on me. And I never drive anymore. Well, I mean, I drive every day, naturally. But I couldn't tell you the last time I drove on a trip. Mr. Daddy always drives. Even when I offer he always drives. And I sleep. So this should be interesting!

Be sure to check back here on Saturday for a little surprise! Ooh, and now I'm being all mysterious!

Later, y'all!