Archive for January, 2006

Tootie-Fruity Juice

I remember how much fun it was to experiment in the kitchen as a child and cook up an odd mixture of this and that… typically inedible, but fun in its creation. So yesterday when Rainbow decided to experiment with some kitchen ingredients (encouraged on by Dolittle), I was completely fine with the idea, as long as the ingredients were leftovers and not perfectly good and untouched food that would be wasted.

So in went some banana pudding, and in went the end of a couple of juice boxes, and in went a slice or two of leftover fruit, etc… all stirred in a jumbo Harry Potter cup. From there portions were served up in medicine cups so that, as the pudding settled on the bottom they began to resemble layered shooters.

“Can I take Rainbow door to door to sell Tootie-Fruity Juice?” Dolittle inquired. Was she kidding me? Of course not!

“P-L-E-A-S-E Mom….” injects Rainbow, “I’ll NEVER ask for anything else ever again.”

Yeah. Right.

“But it will make anyone who is sick feel better,” she claims (and probably believes).

I picture my child on the back of a wagon selling snake oil. I bet she’d have made a fortune.

I cannot try some. Nobody, including the children themselves in fact, try some. Even at the best of times nobody in my house would ever make it on a Survivor food challenge… we’d be kicked off the island for sure. Still Rainbow whines to go selling door to door. I picture a travelling Kool-Aid stand.

I suppose I should not have been surprised to find Dolittle hanging up the phone announcing “Ch-Kay is coming over on the way to the hockey game. I had her number in my book.” Ch-Kay is my best friend, the girl’s godmother, and a very cool lady. “I want to show her my hamster,” Rainbow adds.

Ah, the hamster. Good enough.

Of course, Ch-Kay is not in the door two minutes when she is offered a shooter of health-giving elixir…. well, accosted with the beverage before her coat is even off is probably a more accurate description of events. And, to my amazement, she takes this medicine cup and actually takes a drink. For real.

Dang she’s brave.

And to my even greater amazement, she announces it is actually very tasty! “Here Mom, have some,” Ch-Kay states, passing me my own serving. She smirks. Yeah… no pressure, right? The children look to me.

I taste. And indeed, it is not at all offensive (as long as you don’t look at it).

Of course, it remains to be seen if I’ve been cured of anything. (And I could do with a good anti-anxiety med). In fact, I’ve been asked three times today if I feel ok…. Hmmm, maybe it’s time I gave Ch-Kay a call.

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How did I get so frumpy?

I’m looking my age. Maybe more than my age. I have laugh lines and some grey hair (when not camouflaged). My shape is becoming slightly more pear-like.

While I am perfectly comfortable in the skin I’m in, I am perhaps less enthralled lately with how that skin is packaged. I feel like I’m looking my age and then some.

Now, I’m not suggesting that I wish to pull off the ability to wear belly shirts & stilettos… I couldn’t have carried that off even when I was younger… but there is certainly some room for improvement. Being of meagre means and uncertain taste, I decided it might be best to begin with new undies. To start from the bottom up, as it were. With Dolittle & Rainbow in tow, I headed to the department store to start my minor wardrobe adjustments.

So, we’re strolling along among the fancies and come to a section of pre-packaged drawers. “Ah,” think I, “this would be my best bet… value for money and new undies.” Now each package has a picture of a woman wearing the appropriate cut (bikini, brief, high rise, etc.), with each depicting only the fine lady’s midrift from navel to thigh. Each woman is a different shape… from extremely round to pencil thin. I asked Rainbow which woman is most like Mommy. I was not entirely enthused by her choice (ah, the honesty of children), but decided to go with the shape somewhere between stick-girl and Rainbow’s pick.

Now I had a new problem. None of the packages were open, so was I small, medium or large? Well, I knew it definitely was not large, and given Rainbow’s version of me I figured it was probably not small, so I opted for medium, made my purchase, and took my bag of fineries home.

Ok… I guess I should have taken into account my height. I think these things are going to go up to my armpits. :-/

Note to self… never by pre-packaged undies and shop alone.

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Oreo

Last night Rainbow got a new hamster. It is incredibly cute to see a 5 year old act so maternal. The hamster, grey/black and white, has been named Oreo. We were instructed to leave Oreo in his new home (cage) for two days to get adjusted with minimal handling. As we all settled to go to bed last night he had explored every possible space of his new cage except his wheel. Knowing how darn much Dolittle’s hamster uses his wheel in the middle of the night, this was worrying to me. The darn wheel was so fancy it didn’t even look like a wheel. Would Oreo know what it was and use it? And if he didn’t, are there some physical/psychological issues for hamsters if they don’t run all night going nowhere? Nonetheless, we head to bed, and leave the hamsters in their respective cages to (hopefully) spin their wheels.

This morning I checked the critters, as usual, and found Oreo’s wheel completely off it’s fastening, lying face down in the wood chips. Oreo peeked out from the corner as I replaced the wheel in its holder. I wonder how long he actually used it before that happens? I wonder was he trapped under it at any time? I wonder did its coming off the holder spook him at all? I wonder will this set back his adjustment any? Poor dear.

You know, in a lot of ways life can be a lot like that hamster’s… we are seemingly running and running and running yet going no where… and sometimes things seem to fall apart. Maybe the key to well being is to do all that yet keep the important stuff attached. I think I’ll go hug my girls and start my day.

Whew!

I gathered up my courage and strolled over to Professor’s office to explain my aversion to next week’s group discussion. He was great about it, and I am so relieved. I’ll get to do my assignment individually for that class. Whew!

What was I thinking?

Why on earth did I take Contemporary Moral Issues? I know I avoid thinking about certain things, and I knew those things were covered in this class, and still I signed up. .

Instead of feeling buzzed after class (my typical state when something has me thinking in unexplored ways), I felt psychologically battered last night. Topic: Euthanasia. Next Week: Abortion (including group discussion). Dear G*d I don’t think I can go there. Imagine me sitting there listening to the opinions of fellow students (mere children themselves for the most part) whose greatest decision in life has probably been what course to take, while they opine on people who have actually faced losing a child they deeply love and had to make decisions in that timeline. People like me.

What was I thinking?????

Sexy…

Trivia was part of the Job2 Christmas Party Saturday night. S-Tech was on my team, and our team, in fact, won. An interesting conversation arose from one trivia question. The question was: What do Mademoiselle Magazine readers rate as the #1 sexiest feature on a man? Instinctively I suggested “brain”, but noted that Mademoiselle Magazine readers are not particularly in the same demographic as I am. They, I suggested, would probably say “eyes” or perhaps “tush.”

S-Tech suggested that the readers of Mademoiselle would want to appear more mature about their choices and thus probably say “brain”, whether they believed it or not. She also suggested we should write “brain” just on principle. In the end (perhaps largely driven because I was in charge of the pen), we answered “‘eyes’.. but they should have said ‘brain.’” As luck would have it, the readers did, in fact, choose “eyes.”

Now this got me thinking… does smart equal sexy? I want to say yes, but then I got to thinking about the some of the educated people I know who are socially inept, or lack a certain amount of common sense. Or some of the less educated people I know who have ‘life smarts’ and/or disarming charm. Clearly “brain”, in and of itself, does not necessarily define sexy. For me, at least, it would have to be part of a larger package which included wit, creativity, compassion, and common sense. (But if that package were to come with dreamy eyes, so much the better). 🙂


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