Cathy in the Wright

Let's See How Long This One Takes

I wrote that my last post at 3:30 p.m. It finally showed up on my site at 8:45 p.m. Permalinks may or may not be working. As a general rule, I don't swear on my site, but desperate times, desperate measures. Damn it! I hate this. I have no idea what is going on with my blog.

I'm pretty sure the problem is housed within my computer. The Professor doesn't seem to have any trouble posting from his house.

So...now what. I'm not sure the Geek Squad is willing to drive this far. Any computer wizards out there up for a little exodus to remote Wright County to exorcise this machine? I pay well. Plus you get a tour of the pasture where we slaughtered the cows this fall. If not, I may be forced to blackmail Mitch. I've still got that picture of him eating at Keegan's. I really hate to chum the blog waters with that...but I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

Help? Help!

T-shirts Available After The Concert

It's been a tough day and a half. Aside from computer problems and satellite failures, I've had my hands full dealing with The Governor. He's wrapping up a six week World Naughty Tour, with my nerves being his fan base. Let me tell you, it's always a sold-out crowd.

Today, after receiving some not-so-flattering fan mail, he laid down on the floor and wailed, "I think I'll just lay here and cry!" Oliver Twist meets Little Lord Fauntleroy. As you wish, my liege.

And Nana, if you're reading this, he misses you. A lot. The other day I had to tell him we couldn't go to your house because you were out of town. He sobbed, "But I NEED her."

That last paragraph was calculated to tug on your heart strings, Nana. I won't suggest that you cut your trip short, but I am more than willing to ship him to your next port of call. He tells me he's always wanted to see Australia.

Don't dispair. Not all is gloomy here at The Outpost. While cleaning out some cabinets, I came across the unopened bottle of Plymouth Gin I got for Christmas. Tonic? Check. Ice? Check.

I think The Governor is going to be playing to a deaf crowd this evening.

Break Out the Wolfbane ...

The Chairman has asked me to post this “test” blog, because her website has been inhabited by a malevolent spirit. Exorcism has failed; so I am applying the Lady Macbeth solution. I have named the evil thing “Spot,” and now I proclaim, “Out dam’d Spot. Out, I say!” If this works, The Chairman should be able to resume posting and tell The Governor, “See Spot … See Spot Run.”

Things Are Looking Up

Moveable Type seems to be working. The men and I took my folks out to dinner last night and everyone behaved. My neighbor had a party later in the evening and I behaved. And I got my new Day by Day t-shirts in the mail yesterday. And if my personal happiness wasn't enough to brighten your day...

Update: Moveable Type is still not working as it should. When I go to publish, I get the box at the top that says," Rebuilding..." but the entire screen never refreshes. The side bar comes up, but the post itself never reappears. The posts seem to be getting saved. I found this on my list of entries, but it's still not showing up on my site. Same thing happened yesterday, although the post eventually appeared. Any ideas?

[Insert Swear Words Here]

I'm not sure if this will show up or not. I was trying to correct a typo in my last post, and Moveable Type is not working properly. Grrr. I hate being such a computer illiterate.

The Pile Of Apples In The Corner, Or Why My Living Room Looks Like A Canadian Border Checkpoint

I'm not a big believer in Feng Shui, but I must have an errant wastebasket in the Health Corner of our house. I can't seem to keep The Senator in top form.

We just finished with stomach flu a week ago. Yesterday he started with a cough and runny nose. Last night he sounded like a performing sea lion and around 10 p.m. I heard, "Mom! I threw up." I was tired, but those four words sent a bucket of cold water down the old spine. Did he get it all over his covers? Did he hit the floor? The wall? Did he think about using the trash can? Did he leave a trail on the way to the bathroom? Oh, yeah...is he okay?

He was okay. He was better than okay. He was my hero. He threw up in an empty wastebasket!

Well, it is universally recognized by child experts everywhere that good behavior should be rewarded. So The Senator and I stayed up until midnight drinking juice and watching classic Woody Woodpecker cartoons.

Today he seems a bit better, although we decided not to gamble on finding an empty wastebasket at school. Thanks to over-the-counter elixirs, his cough has been subdued. (God bless Celltech Pharmaceuticals, makers of the 12 hour cough relief syrup, Delsym.)

I'm now going upstairs to move some chairs and pile fruit in the northeast corner of the house. If that happens to be the Sexuality Corner, please, nobody tell me.

In The Hallowed Halls Of Early Childhood Family Education Centers, It Is Out Of Line To Call Dr. Brazelton A Quack

Today during Parent Discussion Time at my Early Childhood class, we watched the remainder of a video we started last week. The film features that modern-age Dr. Spock, T. Berry Brazelton, M.D. Dr. Brazelton, pediatrician and renowned expert on child development, tried valiantly to show us wayward parents the correct way to discipline our kids.

It was tough to watch the film in the first place, because Brazelton looks disturbingly like Jimmy Carter. Brazelton even has that same, slow, plodding way of speaking, minus the southern accent. When I did tune in, I saw examples like the following:

(camera is showing 3-old Billy and his mother. Billy is reading a book and doesn't want to be disturbed. His mother is trying to convince him he needs to go use the bathroom because, well, it's been awhile.)Brazelton says (I'm paraphrasing): Billy's mom is trying her best to get him to go to the bathroom. He resists, and she pushes the issue. Tempers flare. Billy's mom eventually backs off, even though she knows it may mean a pair of wet pants later down the line. And yet, look! When the pressure is off, Nature takes its course. (Shot of Billy using a potty chair)

Hey, I'm sure that happens in whatever Utopia Brazelton's from, but in my house, if I backed off, my two-year-old would wet his pants and come away with the conviction that Mom caves in if he puts up enough of a stink.

Brazelton is also a major opponent of spanking, because "spanking only teaches children that violence solves problems."

My first thought was, "Well, bombing the rice cakes out of Hiroshima sure seemed to help 'solve' World War II," but I get the point. I'm not a fan of spanking either. But I have a hard time swallowing the notion that a well-earned swat on the butt to get a kid's attention does nothing at all but teach a bad lesson.

There were many good things to take away from the video. I especially liked Brazelton's suggestion that you tell a misbehaving kid, "I'm going to continue to stop you from doing this until you're able to stop yourself." I mean, it sounds corny, but it would make you think a bit if you were a kid, wouldn't it? What does she mean? Is she serious? If I do this tomorrow will I get the same story? If nothing else, it would be a temporary distraction.

I came away with a few new "tools" to use in my "Parent Tool Belt" (yep, that's really how we talk in class). But I think if I need any more advice, I'll just ask my mom. After all, I turned out pretty well, no? (Don't get wise; I'll shut down the comments.)

My Traffic Grows By Leaps And Bounds

Someone put the phrase "how to wright a paragraph" into their seach engine and landed here.

Dear Sir or Madam,

I would be happy to assist. Might I suggest we start with a spelling review before delving into the complicated world of multiple sentences?

The Minnesota Refrigerator

Sent by Gary from Texas, who likes to ponder just how we survive up here.

We Are Not Amused

Here's a new topic for my Wednesday morning parent discussion group: How do you stop your two-year-old from referring to himself in the third person?

The first couple of times I heard him, I thought it was cute. Now it's irritating, and what is worse, I find myself doing it as well. All day I've listened to

The Governor wants another glass of milk.

The Governor wants you to read him another story.

The Governor had a poo-poo go awry. (He picked up that phrase from The VP during last week's stomach flu bout.)

The Governor will protect you from the bad guys.

The Governor doesn't like corn anymore.

And so forth. At one point I found myself saying, "The Mother doesn't like it when..."

Has he been tuning in the BBC when I haven't been watching? As far as I know, The Justice League doesn't have any British royalty among its members. I don't have a son anymore, I just have his press agent.

The Cathy will let you know if she happens upon a cure.

More From Saturday

For the full blown photo essay of Saturday's MOB gathering...go here. Thank you, David, for all the pictures. That post must have taken some time!

Did She Or Didn't She?

Is it the burning question for those not able to attend the MOB gathering at Keegan's last night? Did she actually wear her pajamas?

She did. That's your humble servant there in the red flannel pjs, along with the famous Captain Ed (credentialed Republican convention blogger and Instapundit's go-to man) and Jordan (Jo's Attic).

As you can see, Jo wore her pajamas too. I do think it was a bit unfair for her to show up in black silk looking like she stepped out of a Victoria's Secret catalog and thereby make me in my red flannels look like I came off the JCPenny's clearance sale flyer...but how can you not forgive someone who's willing to wear pajamas to a bar?

Besides Jo, I had the great luck to meet Doug and Ellen, Craig Westover (contributor to the Pioneer Press and the man responsible for getting Nick Coleman's undies into even a tighter bundle than the Fraters boys left them), Noodles, Eloise and Warrior from Spitbull, V-toed Bill from the Kool-Aid Report, Gary from DaytonvKennedy, Mary from ItsNoonSomewhere, Kathy (Cake Eater Chronicles) and her husband, and David Strom (of Taxpayer's League fame and perpetual thorn in the side of MN liberals) and his wife Margaret.

I also got to finally meet Ryan Rhodes (Rambling Rhodes) and his girlfriend, Melissa. I knew him in an instant, because he walked into the bar backwards with his pants down. Well, he would have done so, but I think he held off for Melissa's sake. She's a very pretty, very pleasant woman - what she's doing with him...I'm not sure. Great to meet you both!

In addition to the all the new faces, I had a lot of fun talking with the bloggers I met last July. The Fraters guys were wonderful hosts. If Laura Billings would come down to Keegan's some Thurday night and have a beer with them, she'd have four new friends, be writing for the National Review next month, and be a much happier person in general.

Mitch Berg was the anchor of the whole event. New blogger? Don't know anyone yet? Just fasten yourself on Mitch's sleeve, and you'll know everyone before the night's through.

I have a great picture of Mitch. He's eating dinner. I'd post it, but when I thought of all the guff he'd get from everyone when they saw it...I thought he might be very willing to drop off a suitcase full of unmarked bills in a pre-arranged location. I'll email you soon, dear.

My fellow Outlander, King Banian, was in attendance as well. We were talking about how GREAT it would be if all you MOBsters got to make the exodus out our way for the next gathering. King's already got the perfect location. If we can work out some sort of gas subsidy for you all, be thinking St. Cloud this summer.

Perhaps the biggest honor of the night was shaking hands once again with Scott Johnson of Powerline. Yeah. That's right. I shook his hand. I'll never wash it again. Of course, I can add to this honor the fact that I had met him once earlier, in the Pre-Rather-Gate Days, so I'm doubly cool.

Greetings to D.C. from Brainstorming and John the Policy Guy. Great to see you both again. Hello to everyone else I met whose name or URL I can't remember. I knew I should have brought a little notebook and pencil along...just like Atomizer. Of course, if you do that, someone might get ahold of it and start writing goofy crap in it.

I'm sure pictures and reviews have surfaced elsewhere by now. It feels like Christmas morning. I'm still in my pajamas (yes, those same ones) and I can't wait to open up different sites and see what's in them.

Thank you, Keegan's, for allowing us to descend upon you like a plague.

Life Is Great

There is nothing that warms the heart faster than looking out at your snow-covered driveway, wondering how long it's going to take to shovel it, and then seeing your neighbor's pick-up truck (with attached plow) come tooling into view.

Good old Kirk. I brought him a beer (Wright County legal tender) and chatted for a few moments. I bet if I had something better than Amstel Light, he would have shoveled my walk too. Oh well, I needed the exercise. But I will be making a trip to the liquor store before the next snow storm.

Not that we aren't properly equipped here at The Outpost. My father-in-law (who is lolly-gagging on Waikiki beach today) rigged up his Jeep with a plow blade, but it gives him heart palpitations when I express my interest in driving it. You'd think he'd get over the loss of those oak trees by now.

The boys are excited to have the fresh powder. The Senator will be begging to get out the snowmobiles, and I might even dust off the x-country skis. I'm looking forward to tomorrow. The best part: I don't even have to change out of my pajamas, as I will be wearing them to the MOB gathering tomorrow night.

Life is great.

My Lunch With The Germans

To Margaret:

Peter and Patrick say hello. Having lunch with them was like dining with an old married couple.

Peter: I put Philly cream cheese under the Nutella on my toast.

Patrick: I'll bet your arteries are just screaming in agony.

Peter: This from the man who eats his fries with mayo.

Patrick: When's the last time you ate a vegetable? Potatoes don't count.

And so on. Very funny. Wish you could have been there. Thanks for subbing with the Russians. I'll be back tomorrow night. 9:30 game. When's yours?

In True Girlie Fashion

I was going to send an email to Jo to see what she's wearing to the MOB get-together Saturday night.

But she's already decided. And she's asking if anyone else is brave enough to wear their pajamas.

Well, I agreed to wear my pjs, but I'm not sure it's bravery. I just know that with a matching set of jammies, I don't have to worry about what shirt goes with what pants, and whether or not the socks match or the shoes clash.

On the other hand, Jo, I was thinking about this mafioso theme that Fraters has been encouraging. Noodles elaborates after becoming a "made" man. Maybe we should doll it up - ala Jersey Girl - big hair - lots of make-up - Lee Press-on nails - waiting for our man to pick us up in his IROC-Z.

After all...Friday nights are for wives...Saturday nights are for girlfriends.

Okay. I'm wearing the pajamas. If you don't wear yours, and I'm the only one looking like a fool...I'm going to fit you with a pair of cement sling-backs and drop you through the hole in my fish house.

Just Another Typical Wednesday Around Here

I survived my leg of The Outpost 24 hour stomach flu and have passed on the baton successfully to The VP. He is now groaning and moaning upstairs, having topped his performance with a gold-medal-worthy Pull off the Highway and Vomit maneuver. The judges will award extra points for that one.

The boys and I are in excellent spirits. None more so than The Governor. Today at our Early Childhood class, he sprang up in the middle of circle time, faced the substitute teacher (who happens to be the director of our Early Childhood/Preschool programs), copped a William Tell stance, and announced, "I'm going to shoot an arrow at you!"

I can't tell you how well that sort of thing goes over with the "Guns are almost as evil as spankings" crowd. There is no face-saving way of explaining that The Green Archer has replaced Spiderman as your son's favorite superhero and that you're working on distinguishing between imaginary villians and perfectly nice school administrators. So I did what any other good parent would do: I said the Grandparents must have been letting him watch some awful television while we were on vacation.

No, I didn't. And I do take full blame; I should have never let the boys graduate from Bob the Builder to The Justice League.

A final note of no interest to anyone but my friend, Margaret: I'm having lunch tomorrow with the German boys from our Sunday soccer league. Shall I tell them you said hello?

2 Out Of 3 Isn't Bad

The pilot on my Seattle-MSP flight must be a big fan of open mike night at the comedy clubs.

"It's currently 10 below in the Twin Cities, folks, but don't worry...it's a 'dry' cold."

and later

"Good news, folks! It's warmed up to a balmy eight below at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport. Those of you continuing on to Orlando try not to snicker as the others deplane."

I had a few words to share with the captain, but the flight attendant convinced me that the TSA really frowns upon such spontaneous, in-flight communications.

So I made it home to be confronted with cold temperatures and children with the stomach flu. On the bright side, I also came across a plug for my blog in the local paper. Sure, I'm eight paragraphs down, but you know, those guys at Powerline could use all the PR help they can get. And I warranted my own paragraph, whereas Captain Ed, Mitch, Fraters, King,and Jay Reding were merely mentioned once. In paragraph seven, damn you all.

It was rather neat to see The Outpost get some ink. Thank you, Ms. Kohls. If it helps, I live on the Crow River. And if you are interested in meeting any of the authors of the blogs you mentioned, you will want to attend the Minnesota Oraganization of Bloggers at Keegan's pub this coming Saturday the 22nd. My email address is over on the left if you are interested in more details.

Now I have a decision to make: tackle the mountain of laundry or catch-up on all the blogs I've missed for the past week. Sort of like going to the doctor's and being asked, "Would you rather swallow these two pills or take the shot in the rear with the needle with the diameter of a drinking straw?"

It's not like we're going anywhere in this cold weather anyway.

Deer Me

So, how cold did it get at the Outpost? At least -26 Saturday morning, but numbers don’t tell the story completely. South and east of the Outpost, two male deer were standing in the woods for shelter. They spotted several female deer, apparently spooked into a wind-swept clearing nearby. Noticing the females, one male deer looked inquiringly at his pal, who replied: “No way man; you couldn’t get me out there and into that wind for all the doe in the world.”

The Days Dwindle Down ...

The Senator and Governor are snug abed at 9 p.m., cherubs both! They’re waiting for The Chairman to retrieve them and Hoocher on Sunday. Hoocher, meanwhile, has been snug abed most of the time he’s been with us in the city. Right now, he’s curled up on a living room chair. He’s content but will hop onto our bed or another, if a door is left ajar. Once on a bed, the dog goes limp and must be dragged off by the collar.

Ms. Chairman, we’re picking up phrases that you obviously use. The Governor told Hoocher this morning, “This is the last time I’m going to tell you …” However, he explained a meltdown Friday in his own terms, “I am having a bad mood.”

Friday night, we took the boys to a Mexican restaurant in Minneapolis, where we all had dinner with the cousins and Auntie S. and Uncle B. S and G liked the chips but stuck with tried and true chicken fingers for the main course. Afterward, the boys got to visit the cousins and see J’s new hamster, Elvis. Relax … they weren’t interested enough to plead for one of their own. Not yet, anyway.

The Senator and Governor brought home a toy gun from the cousins, and one toy gun simply doesn’t work with those two guys. Of course, they both wanted the gun at the same time, and that made for a few testy moments.

Oh, The Senator slept until nearly 10 a.m. Saturday and took naps Friday and Saturday. No, we didn’t substitute v.s.o.p. for m.i.l.k.

Ouch

There was a 100+ degree difference this morning between where I'm sitting now and The Outpost.

I'm not freakin' coming back.

Let me know when the global warming kicks in and I'll reschedule my flight.

Now where's my SPF 30?

Brrrrrrrrr

It ain’t cold till the snow squeaks, and, believe me, the snow today makes more noise underfoot than tin man on a tile floor. It’s 17-below at the Outpost and that’s flat-out temperature. Factor in wind, and the chill is minus-31. For anybody who experiences cold or snow primarily on the Weather Channel, cold snow squeaks, because Arctic-like chill has squeezed out every microdrop of moisture. You’d have to warm this stuff on the stove to make snowballs. Thursday afternoon, you could watch ice crystals form in the air.

Perhaps the bleakest part of the morning was waking The Senator for school at 6:20 a.m., when he was sound asleep—and Channels 4, 5 and 11 failed to report his school being closed or delayed today, as were many in Minnesota. He was up quickly and without complaint albeit not cheerfully.

The Senator remained quiet as we sat in my car at the end of the driveway, waiting for the school bus to arrive shortly after 7 a.m. Talk about a lonesome look, the bus headlights coming into view down the gravel road in pitch dark. Anyway, parental units, your older son got off to school just fine today.

The Governor remains asleep at 8:06, and he will be allowed to select his own time to rejoin the wide-awake club. This is not giving in; he got to watch Spiderman after The Senator went to bed at the school-day hour of 8 p.m. Besides, it remains a good principle not to poke awake the lion. (We had one meltdown Thursday afternoon, and it was a beauty—straight out of central casting. This situation was remedied by a late afternoon nap, which explains the later bedtime.)

Hoocher gets all excited when anybody puts on a coat, because he’s apparently hard-wired to want to go outside. Once outside, he’s quite happy to take care of business and get back into the heated comfort of home.

When The Senator returns from kindergarten at noon today, it’s ino the city for everybody, including Hoocher. We’re hoping The Senator and Governor can have some time with their cousins as we await the parents’ re-introduction to responsibility.

Custodial Status Report

Sunshine was welcome this morning after days of overcast and threatening skies, but temperatures plunged as fast as the clouds parted. It’s zero degrees at the Outpost, with a wind-chill factor of 16-below. How cold is that? Well, don’t forget the ice pick when you take Hoocher for a walk, so you can chip him free of his bathroom tree. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but you get the idea.

We’re looking for 20-below or worse before The Chairman and Vice-Chairman return from their winter interlude in Hawaii. By the time they’re home, balmy winter weather will be upon us—the 20-degree range. Must stop at Walgreen’s and pick up salt tablets and sunscreen.

Meantime, parental units, if you put down your pina coladas long enough to check e-mail, know that The Senator and The Governor are doing just fine, and so is Hoocher. No meltdowns to report; not even a few memorable phrases. Hoocher’s not eating his dry food, as you thought, but he strategically places himself slightly behind and between the boys at mealtime for the expected result.

Hoocher’s my special buddy, for reasons unknown, but you might want to pick up a replacement supply of doggie treats en route from the airport.

Note: those wide steps to your basement may be good for safety, but poor Mr. Slinky can’t make it down all by himself. Oh, you know that compressed-air pistol that fires the soft-foam darts? The Governor is quite good at pulling the trigger, and I’m certain he’ll soon understand the concept of aim. For now, The Green Goddess has requested that I h…i…d...e those d…a…m…n things. She knows that the missiles are soft but also is aware of their launch velocity. Frankly I don’t understand her concern; that last discharge really didn’t come that close, even though it was nearly point-blank.

The Senator had to be awakened at 9 a.m. today, and he gave every sign that was too early. Wake-up discipline was applied, because Friday is a school day, and 7 a.m. comes a lot earlier than 9 a.m. Bedtime tonight will be earlier than last night. (I’m sure you’re not interested in the details of time, which is so very fugit.)

Excuse me; this must be posted post haste. An emergency: The Governor just arrived to ask, “Aren’t you going to fire up T-Rex,” the boys’ dinosaur program.

Aloha, Part II

Sigh. Beach or Bar? Beach or Bar? I tell you, this vacationing stuff is not as laid-back and easy at it seems. Tough decisions all day long.

Seriously. There are pitfalls to avoid. Like Poi. Poi is revolting. I'm not sure which crazy native first thought of introducing this stuff to the dinner table, but I'm sure it must have been someone who wanted to get even with his mother-in-law. Poi has the consistancy of runny tile grout, and I imagine, a similar taste. Wait, I take that back. Tile grout might actually taste better. It couldn't be worse.

In spite of dangers like poi, there are numerous positives. Yesterday, we flew over to Oahu and visited Pearl Harbor. We toured the U.S.S. Arizona Museum and took a small ferry out to the memorial site. I should have brought more Kleenex. It was difficult keeping my composure as I'm standing over the sunk tomb of 900 men. While we were at the memorial, the U.S.S. Mercy (Naval Hospital Ship) came into the harbor. As this gigantic white floating hospital and relief ship passed the memorial, the sailors lined up at the rail and saluted the memorial. I just bawled.

After wiping my nose on The VP's shirt, we decided to head over and tour the U.S.S. Missouri, where the Japanese surrendered to the Allies. Another moving visit.

Today, we decided on a more light-hearted excursion - we're going snorkeling. If I see anything cool, I'll let you know, but right now it has been several hours since my last cocktail, and I'm trying to stay in condition.

See you soon.

Weathering Heights

Remember the Lil Abner cartoon character, Joe Blfsplk, who walked around under a black cloud discharging rain and lighting? Joe had nothing on us during a two-and-a-half-week road trip from which the Green Goddess and I just returned. Rain, wind and overcast skies followed us from Minneapolis to Palm Desert, California, by way of Phoenix and Flagstaff, Arizona. Palm Desert received half a year’s rainfall during the three days we were there, and we missed the most serious storms. We even experienced snowfall in the higher elevations of Joshua Tree National Park. En route home, we sat out an ice storm that turned Independence, Missouri, into a skating rink when we arrived for a family visit. Perhaps the weather prepared us for the task now at hand. We’ll soon assume custody of The Governor and The Senator from Nana and Buppa for the duration of the parents' Hawaii trip. As for our trip, it was a lot better than the weather. We saw lots of interesting things and had several good meals. I had especially tasty shrimp at a local restaurant in a tiny Texas town—can’t remember the names—but I’ll never forget the special on that day's menu, “All the mountain oysters you can eat for $15.95."

Aloha

I meant to post volumes today, but in the succinct words of The Governor, "Not gonna happen." I'm fending off what may or may not be a cold. My head is stuffy and I feel achy and my throat feels thick. I find it difficult to take medicine in this condition. Plain Tylenol is not enough; Ny-quil is too much. I'm in symptom purgatory. Tonight I'll be taking no chances. I'll be treating symptoms I think I might get. Tomorrow I'm heading off on vacation, and there's no better way to start a vacation than sinus pain at 33,000 feet.

Assuming my small-animal sacrifices to the airline gods are accepted, I will arrive safely in Maui tomorrow evening. I will be returning...I was going to give a date here, but perhaps I should leave that open-ended. I will return. Eventually.

I don't plan on blogging while I'm gone, so unless The Professor ponies up a few thoughts, you're out of luck. I thought about asking someone to guest blog, but everyone that came to mind is a better blogger than I am, and I don't want to lose traffic just because I came back from vacation.

Now I'm off to take a second look at what I packed. In my clouded frame of mind, I may have thrown in a few sweaters and jeans when all I really need is my swimsuit and a toothbrush.

Aloha.

Up Next: The Governor's Take On Othello

Topping The Governor's list of favorite books right now is The Stinky Cheese Man and other Fairly Stupid Tales (Jon Scieszka/Lane Smith) The tale of The Stinky Cheese Man parallels that of The Gingerbread Man, except the SCM smells so awful, no one wants to take up the chase. Indeed, the little old lady who baked him opens the oven and cries, "Phew! What is that terrible smell?"

Today at lunch, The Governor chose to recall that line just as we finished filling our plates. We were at the local pizza place for the buffet. The end of the line happens to be quite near the kitchen doors. And my son, with the aplomb of a seasoned actor, delivers his line to the amusement of the woman behind me and the disdain of the man behind her.

I tried to explain. "We have this book at home - it's about a stinky cheese man - he's quoting from the book!"

The woman understood. "Don't they always come out with stuff at the most inopportune times?"

The man just looked like he wanted to throw down his pizza and find another place to eat. One not being critiqued by a 2-year-old.

I'd like to extend a sarcastic "Thanks" to Uncle Terry and Aunt Charlotte for giving us the book, but they did inscribe on the inside cover, "Caution: And good luck!" I should have taken your warning more seriously.

An Outpost Update

As uncomfortable as I was feeling this morning, I imagine my woes were nothing compared to those of my in-laws who awoke to see the path of destruction left by the party-goers. After all, it's not really a party until someone spills Shiraz on the tan carpet, no? (No, it wasn't me)

If I were them, I would have been tempted to torch the place, fight the arson charges, and start over from scratch. Or at the very least, see if Merry Maids has a haz-mat squad. I plan to offer help sometime this evening when The VP gets home from the office. And, coincidentally, when I have the greatest chance of being declined as the work will be all done.

There were amazing amounts of great food. We could probably ship the leftovers to Thailand, but I'm not sure olives stuffed with Gorgonzola and smoked whitefish are the type of comfort foods a tsunami victim would relish. I could be wrong. I'm sending money instead.

Thank you for all the kind wishes on my recovery. As I told Noodles, I knew I should have deleted that post, but this morning, it was too much of an effort. The sound of the keyboard clicking away was deafening. But now that the embarrassing dribble has been linked...I'll leave it for your continued amusement. And for my grandmother's horror.

To my neighbors: I'm pretty sure I agreed to help host a wine-tasting party in March. Either here or we will takeover NorthStar Farms across the river and make our local veternarians take out extra insurance on the antique rugs and Hepplewhite furniture. If they're smart, they'll put down plastic tarps in the barn and make us stay out there. For my contribution, I'll be bringing the wide array of non-alcoholic wines and champagnes available on the market. Tiffany, you are welcome to bring another bottle of Royal Bitch.

Happy New Year!

Someone

must have sneezed on the relish tray last night because I feel awful this morning. Thanks.

Cue The Streamers Etc.

Happy, happy New Years!!!!!!!!!!!

My in-laws hosted the party. Whoo-whee. what a party. Can't find all the right keys. Hmm. Had Royal Bitch Chardonnay..yum yum yum. Thanks, Dough. You were right. Correct. On the nose. did I say "yum" yet?

Played poker tonight with my neighbors. Cut-throat asssholes. Good thing I was playing with my father-in-law's money.

Great food tonight. And Hurrah! Am not old. Made it to 4:20 am. Have hiccups. Not good.

Okay. Did I every tell you guys about the time I went to Chicago for NYEve? Very good. However, Sears Tower is not open at 2:00 a.m. Very dissapointing.

Bed. Must. This is why I'll be drinking Pepsi at MOB get-togetherer in January. Ujless Dough brings good wine.

Resolutions. Smesolutions. I just want to wake up not feeling like Fido's mouth. Perhaps too late.

Andy, my neighbor, I want a picutre of your sun-burned abs. Will post.

Happy, happy New Year.