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Posts Tagged ‘Kids’

Dear Certain Conservative White Male Politicians:

I know you are not in favor of sex ed in schools. It is clear you need some kind of education, though.

Let me explain reproduction to you in the terms similar to those I used for my son when he was four:

Boys and girls have different parts between their legs. When these parts come together, sometimes they can make a baby.

It doesn’t matter if these parts belong to people in the same family (incest), of different ages (statutory rape), or if the girl was not willing (rape).

And unlike EL James’ book, there aren’t 50 shades of grey when it comes to rape. Rape is rape. If one person doesn’t want to participate, it’s rape. There is no qualifier (like “legitimate”) before that word.

I cannot believe I have to explain this.

You sound like Johnny Nogerelli, Adrian Zmed’s character in “Grease 2“:

‎Can’t a girl just do that thing in a book where she adds up the dates of her uh — whaddayacallit — mentalstration?

No one likes to look like a complete idiot, so I’m going to help you out. Here is a link to a “How Stuff Works” exploration of reproduction. It even talks about contraception, so maybe you can share that with your buddy Rush. Please read at your leisure. You don’t even have to admit you read it. But if you do, it will save you future embarrassment.

Supporting the understanding and protection of lady bits,
Beth

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Dear Apothic Red,

Thank you so much for saving my sanity this quarter. Without you, I might be balled up and slobbering on the floor of my office. Well, more than usual.

I remember when we first met, just a few short weeks ago. I was looking for Cupcake Red Velvet when the Publix wine dude suggested I try you instead. I like to keep my options open, so I took both of you home with me. (You and Cupcake, that is, not you and the wine dude.)

That afternoon, I needed to be outside in the back yard with the children, so I had to take you to go. My first sip was an injustice to your carefully crafted zest. Yet even swigged from the contours of my blue Solo cup, you tasted divine. I reveled in the dance of a thousand flavors as I listened to the gentle sounds of playtime:

Mama! He threw a stick at me!
Well, he did it first!
I did not!
He did too!
Did not!
(etc.)

Thanks to you, Apothic Red, I was able to tune out this chatter and focus on something more important: the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly.

Thanks to you, I could later deaden the pain of having to give a great student a B in a class where he/she would have earned an A had he/she just followed the assignment directions.

Thanks to you, I managed to silence the screaming, stressed-out voices in my head who were trying to prevent me from ticking off the 4,322 items on my to-do list.

You (and your subsequent copies) have brought me much joy and peace over the past month. I can’t thank you enough.

Hope to see you soon!

Your friend,
Beth

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The MPAA finally caved to pressure regarding the film “Bully,” and lowered the rating to PG-13 from R. That makes it easier for target audiences to see it.

Good.

I don’t really understand why bad language and nudity is not OK, but people getting peppered with gunfire is just fine. (I should ask my mother-in-law. She once fled the room when a Victoria’s Secret commercial came on and told my brother-in-law we were watching porn. This is the same woman who sat through all of the über-violent “Battle Royale.”)

Bullying mystifies me. We’re all freaky in our own way. We should embrace that, right?

“Be yourself.” I guess it’s a trite phrase that is easier said than done. The older I get, the easier it is. I am who I am, for better or worse.

I have no shame. For example, I freely admit to:

  • Loving Toby Keith’s “Red Solo Cup” and Luke Bryan’s “Country Girl (Shake It For Me).”
  • And loving Hanson’s “MMMbop” and Britney Spears’ “Toxic.”
  • And also loving the Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” and Hüsker Dü’s “In a Free Land.”
  • While in high school, sneaking out of the house to see the Butthole Surfers at the Metroplex in Atlanta. (Apologies to my dad who reads my blog and may not know this.) They almost burned down the stage = best night ever.
  • Ogling men. (Look, before you say, “Poor Eddie,” let me assure you he knows, rolls his eyes, and let’s me carry on. We’re married, not dead.)
  • Being willing to break my marriage vows for Johnny Depp. (Eddie knows this too.)
  • Being as fascinated by Christina Aguilera’s rack as Eddie is.
  • Wanting a monster truck. (I used to drive a red pickup. I miss it.)
  • Preferring raunchy comedies and D-grade horror movies over any of the crap I’m supposed to like. (“English Patient” and “Lord of the Rings,” I’m talking about you.)
  • Sometimes telling my kids they are driving me batshit crazy.
  • Having tickets to see Adam Ant in concert Sept. 29.
  • Nursing an addiction to “Words With Friends” and “Draw Something.”
  • Liking beer and wine more than fancy mixed drinks.
  • Being a little bit of a hillbilly.
  • Adoring the F word and its big sister, M— F—.
  • Wanting to put bacon in everything.
  • Thinking some plastic surgery might be a good thing. (A little Botox here and there …)
  • Wanting desperately to go noodling.

Express yourself. Let your freak flag fly. I won’t judge. Instead, I’ll think you are awesome.

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Camping seems like a great idea until you find yourself coated in mosquito bites, sleeping on a rapidly deflating air mattress, and lathering your children in calamine lotion because of a mysterious rash.

Why do people in first-world countries see the need to schlep their belongings out to the woods to sleep on the ground? Isn’t one of the benefits of being citizens of a developed nation the fact that we have beds, shelter, etc.?

I didn’t think about any of this as I happily agreed to go camping with two other families at Edisto Island State Park this weekend. Roaring fire? S’mores? Getting back to nature? Sign me up.

But these should have been my first and second clues that this was a bad idea:

Uh oh.

The creatures were out in full force. Worms were rappelling out of the trees like Tom Cruise in “Mission Impossible.”

This worm took up residence in my hair.

And that suited Dominic and Gideon just fine.

Dominic shows off his worm habitat.

To be fair, the campsite was equipped with water and electricity, so it is not like we were truly roughing it.

Camp, sweet camp

But as soon as we put up the tent, it rained. And rained. And rained. We stayed inside and watched superhero cartoons.

The rain finally moved on, leaving everything dirty and muddy. Nate’s shoes were destroyed, so he borrowed Charlotte’s as he went to get a drink (and grab Charlotte’s purse).

Nate brings sexy back.

Despite the monsoon, we did have the requisite cookout, fire and s’mores.

And Nate’s sexy look worked on someone: a friendly Southern toad.

The next day we hit the beach.

This is one way to keep him still.

Gideon can't stand to be left out.

Dominic finds some kind of crab.

New media and old media happily coexist on the beach.

Good company, lots of laughs, and some relaxation almost made up for the critters, dirt and back pain.

However, as Eddie groused the whole time he was loading and unloading the car, I’m going to guess that is the last time he strays from the comfort of his own habitat.

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Lately, I’ve been interested in food wrapped in other food (see Scotch quail eggs). Tonight I made Triple Meat Surprise.

Is it a surprise because it involves three meats? Not when one of those is bacon. (You know my relationship with bacon.)

Is it a surprise because it is stuffed with roasted sweet peppers? No, although they are so very yummy.

Is it a surprise that Newt Gingrich is still in the race for the Republican presidential nomination? Yes, but that is the topic of a different post.

It is a surprise because I came up with it on my own. I had Italian sausage and ground turkey in the refrigerator that were seeking willing bellies. I was going to make meatballs, then I thought to do this:

Here are the (easy) instructions:

Take sausage out of casings and spread out on wax paper. Place roasted red peppers in the center. Lift one side of wax paper to help make a roll with the peppers inside.

Mix ground turkey with an egg, 1/4 cup of ketchup, 1 tablespoon of basil, 1 tablespoon of Adobo, 1 tablespoon of water, 1/4 cup of Italian bread crumbs. If the mixture is a little too sloppy, add more bread crumbs.

Spread out the mixture on another piece of wax paper. Place the sausage roll on top. Brush with a little beaten egg and dust with more bread crumbs.

Using wax paper, roll up meat mixture around sausage roll. Place bacon strips next to each other on wax paper. Place meat log on bacon strips. Using wax paper, wrap bacon around meat log.

Place on some kind of rack that allows drainage on a cookie sheet covered in foil. Cook in 375-degree oven for an hour and a half.

Take photo of first-born and the skink he found. Clean wound from skink bite, lather on Neosporin, and top off with a Batman Band-Aid. (This part of the directions may just apply in my house, though.)

Eddie came home and immediately got excited by the smell (the smell of the food, not the skink or the skink bite). Here’s the finished product:

It was a big hit. Clean plates all around!

Enjoy!

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So … it is now Jan. 19, well past the time when many people abandon their new year’s resolutions. It seemed like a good time to check in with mine.

  • try noodling. I still haven’t found a guide.
  • wear skirts more often.So far, I’m sporting a skirt once a week. That’s a huge increase from about twice in all of last year.
  • go to Lacoste again (or, at the very least, drink more French wine). Check “yes” on the second part.
  • speak more Spanish at home and keep practicing French. Not so much, unless cursing counts.
  • acquire more chickens. I’ll start looking for chicks in March.
  • clean out my pantry. I got rid of a couple of items. OK, so they were expired. It’s a start.
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. That’s an uphill battle, but I’m working on it.
  • see Adam Ant in concert.I bought tickets for the Feb. 11 show. Then he had to push the tour back six months. (He’s not in rehab again.) (OK, that’s what his people say.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert. They will be in the Southeast in April.
  • visit the Brannens in Abu Dhabi. Hmmm … March or June.
  • go camping at least once. Too cold right now.
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us. Hasn’t happened.
  • stop pretending I like to listen to NPR in my car. I outed myself during a class yesterday. Liberation!
  • audition for a play or musical. I hear there are auditions for “Rent” in March.
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam, Kathy, Lee, etc., instead of just talking about it. Hasn’t happened yet.
  • either part ways with my padding or to stop talking about it. I’ve been to the gym twice a week since Jan. 1 AND I made money because of it, thanks to GymPact.
  • make homemade pasta more often. I made shrimp and mushroom ravioli last week.
  • take a cooking class to improve my knife skills. Signed up for a class next month.
  • go to more of the interesting festivals I like so much (such as the Redneck Games). The Redneck Expo and Golf Cart Rally will be held April 6-7 in Bainbridge. That sounds like a winner!
  • write more, read more, talk less. I’ve written columns for the local paper, so that’s good. (What’s bad: I let more than two weeks pass between posts on this blog.) I’ve mostly caught up on my magazine reading. And I caught myself being quiet and not chiming into a conversation the other day. Progress!

So there you have it. I’ve also added one more: Learn to do the Running Man and Moonwalk.

How are you doing with yours?

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I don’t usually make resolutions for the new year. (Why wait until Jan. 1 if you want to change something?) The closest I get is making non-resolutions.

I’m feeling optimistic and inspired, though. And so I resolve to:

  • try noodling. (Anyone know a good guide?)
  • wear skirts more often. (I tend to be a pants kind of gal.)
  • go to Lacoste again (or, at the very least, drink more French wine).
  • speak more Spanish at home and keep practicing French.
  • acquire more chickens (much to Eddie’s dismay).
  • clean out my pantry. (I don’t really think this will happen, but it is nice to have a goal.)
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. (Yeah, that won’t happen either.)
  • see Adam Ant in concert. (He’s on tour!)
  • throw my panties on the stage at that concert. (I’m kidding. Just making sure you’re paying attention.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert.
  • visit the Brannens in Abu Dhabi.
  • go camping at least once.
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us.
  • stop pretending I like to listen to NPR in my car. (Confession: It’s usually ’80s and country.)
  • audition for a play or musical.
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam, Kathy, Lee, etc., instead of just talking about it.
  • either part ways with my padding or to stop talking about it.
  • make homemade pasta more often. (Not sure this goes with the one above.)
  • take a cooking class to improve my knife skills.
  • go to more of the interesting festivals I like so much (such as the Redneck Games).
  • write more, read more, talk less.

Of course, there are the resolutions I share with almost everyone else: Improve eating habits, exercise more, spend more time with family, save money, etc.

Now I’m ready for the new year. How about you?

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December is my favorite month of the year because it is my birthday month, and because it features Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa – a holidaypalooza! No one gets any work done all month, people eat their body weights in cookies and candy, and parents have the chance to threaten their young children with the phrase, “Santa sees what you are doing right now.”

Christmas Eve is my favorite holiday because of the anticipation. Christmas Day has always felt like a let-down because the wait is over. It’s 364 days for the next build-up. But maybe that’s just me.

So, Christmas Eve = good; Christmas Day = kind of bad.

Here are other pairs:

Good: Bringing home and decorating a real Christmas tree.
Bad: Real Christmas tree needles that clog the ancient vacuum cleaner.

Good: Realizing a new Dyson vacuum cleaner with Root Cyclone technology might make a great Christmas gift.
Bad: Um … asking for a vacuum cleaner for Christmas.

Good: The boys are old enough to help decorate the tree.
Bad: They haven’t figured out the art of spacing.

Good: More quality time with the kids.
Bad: More time with the kids. (You know it is too much togetherness when you hear your son say, “Gideon punched me,” and your husband responds, “Good.”)

Good: Selecting the perfect presents for friends and family.
Bad: Wrapping all those presents and the bills that follow the purchase.

Good: Seeing a person’s reaction when she loves her gift. (Hi, Trish!)
Bad: Seeing the reaction when he doesn’t. (Hello, Ed.)

Good: Taking the kids to see Santa.
Bad: Knowing that the 5-year-old is not getting the computer he requested (!).

Good: Going to your first Hanukkah party.
Bad: Fleeing the Hanukkah party because your son has a meltdown because he doesn’t like the way his shirt collar feels on his neck.

Good: Unseasonably warm weather when the central heat has been acting strangely.
Bad: The kids deciding it’s OK to take off their clothes outside to better enjoy aforementioned warm weather.

Good: Having the time and inclination to make Christmas cookies.
Bad: The extra 10-pound reminder of why you shouldn’t.

Good: Deciding (well, hoping) that friends and family will forgive you for not sending holiday cards because you’ve been out of the country for three months and didn’t get your act together.
Bad: Feeling like a schmuck each time you go to the mailbox and see greetings from others.

Good: Singing Christmas carols as loudly as possible in a closed car.
Extra Good: Torturing your kids with your holiday singing after they’ve been torturing you all day with superhero noises.
Bad: There’s nothing bad about that … for you!

Good: Stop-motion Christmas specials such as “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer” (although I’m partial to “The Year Without a Santa Claus” because of the Miser Brothers).
Bad: Stop-motion specials such as “Rudolph’s Shiny New Year.” (It’s like the Scrappy Doo of specials.)

Good: The whole holiday season, in my opinion.
Bad: It’s almost over. Sigh.

Happy holidays to all of you!

 

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Sign here

Our journey through France, Switzerland and Germany taught me plenty. It was because I was open to all the signs, of course.

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The Griswolds have nothing on us. Our European vacation was not quite as catastrophe-filled as theirs, but hijinks still ensued. Here’s a slideshow of the best and the worst.

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