-image-Holiday Gift Suggestions (1 of Many)

October 31, 2008 | holidays,trips down amnesia lane

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. It’s Halloween. I KNOW.

But my favorite catalog arrived in the mail yesterday, and I must share with you some of what I’ll be purchasing for my friends and family this holiday season.

For the past five years or so, I’ve ordered from this company, and the gifts never disappoint.

Two Three OK, all the new Demotivators in particular crack me up this year.

I can’t wait to include them in some made-to-order calendars.

My husband usually makes a calendar for one of his sardonic coworkers.

I tend to buy some notecards. Maybe this year I’ll get a tshirt. I’m so excited.

Maybe my love for Demotivators stems from the overuse of Successories by one of my first bosses.

I once cataloged his ridiculously (un)impressive collection of motivational audio and video tapes, which lined his office walls. Maybe if he’d spent less money on syrupy motivational posters, conferences, books and tapes, he could have afforded a therapist.

Seriously, this guy was a monumental asshat who spouted mindblowing quotes like “I’m sorry that that happened to them. But we’ve got work to do.” (when we heard about the Oklahoma City bombing), “that’s their problem” (regarding his daughter’s generation and his disinterest in recycling/reducing energy usage), and “we should call you perky” while looking at my chest.

He also coined this gem about his alarm clock: “I think of it as an opportunity bell!”

During weekly staff meetings, we were forced to stand because that’s what the Japanese do.

But buy a car that’s originally Japanese (like my beloved Toyota Corolla or his wife’s Honda Accord)? That was frowned upon. After I leased my Corolla, he announced a company perk wherein if you purchased an American made car, he’d give you $500 towards it. My Corolla was made in Tennessee, but that didn’t count.

I could go on and on, but then you’d want me to send you his address so you can send him a giant balloon bouquet in the shape of a turd, and I don’t have it handy since he left his wife for a woman he met online. Damn.

AND there ya go. My first of many holiday gift suggestion posts. Don’t give up hope on finding that perfect gift, my friends.

-image-I love these guys.

October 30, 2008 | Jojo,The Nugget,Uncategorized

The end.

-image-Facebook…and the discussion continues

October 29, 2008 | random randomness,trips down amnesia lane,Uncategorized

OK, whew. I’m not alone! And neither are you! Most of us are feeling some level of discomfort with Facebook, and I’m not referring to WordScraper and its wacky nonScrabulousness.

Many of you have seen your high school nemesis or ex pop up as either a friend request or in someone else’s friend list. You’ve felt your stomach drop or your knees weaken or maybe even a little vomit toss up on into your mouth. I don’t know…maybe someone really sucktacular found you.

Anyway, I enjoyed reading your comments but was taken aback by one from my BFF, Smitty:

Was it wrong for me – a married woman- to ask to be friends with an exboyfriend?- also married. I got a pit in my stomach when I clicked the button… so I am thinking… yes.

My God, I thought. Get a grip, Smitty! You’re obviously not over whoever this is (I have my guesses).

My mind shot to a few former boyfriends, including my first true love and a couple longish relationships post college… nope, I wouldn’t hesitate to friend my first love (the others? No interest at all. Meh.) My ‘first love’ and I are great friends. What’s the big deal?

Then, another person popped up in my head. Let’s call him Dave. Because that’s not his name. I hadn’t thought of Dave in a bit, but he was the best friend of an ex of mine. I crushed on Dave from Day 1 of meeting my boyfriend. Oops. Yeah. 10 months of oops. I should never have dated Boyfriend, since I was head over flats for his best friend.

Months after I (finally) broke up with Boyfriend, I ran into Dave downtown while out with some friends. Dave scooped me up into his tall frame, twirled me around and we excitedly caught up. When we said goodbye, my girlfriend grabbed me and said “WHY AREN’T YOU DATING HIM?” What? Dave doesn’t like me! Her eyes bugged out and she said “UM, YES HE DOES.”

Hmmm… it didn’t take long for Dave and I to start hanging out. My ex didn’t know, and we knew what we were getting into could end their friendship. We hung out in polka bars, watched tv, and took things very slowly…mainly because I was also talking and emailing a certain future husband of mine, who I’d met a couple of months before at a music concert.

A few weeks after hanging out with Dave, I realized I had to make a decision. Would I give Dave and me a chance, even though he’s very religious, and I’m not; he’s moving to the west coast, and I’m happy in the midwest? Would I give this long distance relationship with Mr. Squirrel a chance — we’d only met for the length of a music concert…but our phone calls and emails filled me with such happiness and intrigue.

You know who I picked. I picked well. And Dave? I don’t know where he’s at. I’ll be honest, I’ve Googled him several times to keep up on him. He went in a direction I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with, as admirable as it is. I’m happy for him. I’m happy for me. But when I thought of Dave, I suddenly and clearly understood what Smitty meant. I, too, had the pit in my stomach.

According to an article in the recent Good Housekeeping, Smitty ain’t talking out of her ass (this time), and we should listen to our guts. I mean, you listen to yours, and I’ll listen to mine.

In the course of searching for a lost girlfriend, the author emails her “lost love,” who is happily married, with children and also happy to have heard from the (also married) author. Before the author calls her lost love to catch up more on the past decade plus, she hesitates, and decides to talk with a developmental psychology professor who warns her not to call him. Apparently many a happy marriage have perished in this Age of Quick & Anonymous Googling.

The professor explains that some “neuroscience research suggests that early loves are encoded in the brain, the same way cocaine addiction is. Seeing that person again, talking on the phone, even e-mail triggers all those visceral memories of being young and in love.”

Cocaine addiction? NO Thank You.

Does that mean I’ll cross my ex off my Christmas list? Heck no! It definitely does mean that I’ll remember to not second guess my gut. If I get the sinking feeling that communication isn’t right, I’ll end it. If I get the yuck gut when I see an ex pop up or email me, I’ll respond briefly and with the utmost respect, but I won’t put my relationship with my husband in any sort of neurojeopardy. If it feels wrong, or if you think “I don’t think my hubby would like this,” three words for you: RESPECT THY GUT!

And maybe that means I’ll tell Smitty — Don’t Write on that Ex’s Wall, girlie girl!

*I just want to say that although it’s a time suck of RIDICULOUS proportion and yes, sometimes I do find a person from my past who I don’t care to reconnect with, I do love Facebook, and the vast majority of people I’m reconnecting with elicit wonderful, hilarious or just plain nice memories.

-image-Breaking News: That’s not even a lane!

random randomness

My husband is home for lunch completely glued to the high speed chase outside of Miami. Ok, I am, too. And we both just spit out our food when the MSNBC newscaster alerted us to this startling fact… that the suspected robber was driving in the far left lane — wait, that’s not even a lane! It’s a shoulder!

Screw the fact that he robbed someplace or something. Screw the fact that he’s led officials on a lengthy high speed chase. He (GASP) drove on the highway shoulder!

Can I just say, although he’s clearly botched the robbery, he’s a skilled driver. And the police? Um, don’t they get any live feeds on the helicopters?

-image-You Are Entering…the Squirrelight Zone

October 26, 2008 | the homestead

I love my husband. I do. But his clock setting pecularities drive me to the brink.

Let’s take a gander at the various clocks around the house and who set them:

REAL TIME: 7:29 pm
7:27 pm — my computer (damn. how did this happen? I thought these computer things automatically updated themselves. I’m annoyed, I have to tell you.)
7:28 pm — living room clock (set by yours truly and has since been corrected)
7:44 pm — guest room (how does this happen? WHY mess with our guests? Yeah, I have to go reset that right now before our non-existent guests lose more time. Gain more time? Whatever.)
7:34 pm — kitchen. Only 5 minutes ahead! Do you know why? Well, let me tell you: it’s so my husband knows by looking at the clock what time it will be when he gets to work. Like he can’t do the adding in his head. Seriously. And yes, we know we’re lucky that he’s five minutes from work! It most certainly rocks.

Now let’s go upstairs because your mind is about to be BLOWN AWAY.

Remember, it’s 7:29 pm. Yet, in The Nugget’s room, we travel back in time a full half hour! Yes, it’s not even 7pm! But let me just say, I don’t think it’s Mr. Squirrel’s fault. I think this one might be a ‘my bad’ after a power outage and some sleep deprivation. Oops. But now I know to correct this grave mistake. Consider it done. Please do not spend any more of your time worrying about The Nugget arriving late at his next hair appointment. I will NOT let that happen.

In our bedroom, both Mr. Squirrel and I have identical alarm clocks on our nightstands. They glow red numbers. That’s another lovable thing about Mr. Squirrel… alarm clocks must have red LED displays and not green because they glow lower/less. I’m not sure how to describe it since I’m not weird like him. If he could sleep in a cave, devoid of all light and sound, that would be ideal.

On my clock, the time reads 7:22. Again, I don’t like my clocks being off, so I’ll have to fix this. There’s no real reason for it being set seven minutes slow; mainly, it’s because when the power goes out and I must reset, I use one of the MANY incorrectly set clocks around the house to gauge what time it is, so actually, it’s a wonder we get anywhere on time ever.

My husband’s alarm clock reads 8:09. 8:09. FORTY MINUTES FAST. 40. That just blows my mind AND it blows it even further because he does this ON PURPOSE so that when he looks at the clock in the morning, he knows what time it will be at work if he gets up right then to shower and get ready.

That’s weird, right? I live with an oddball. Oh my lanta…just imagine him when we’re 80.

-image-“I know Diet Coke,” he said.

Me,Mr. Squirrel,random randomness

My husband, this year’s recipient of Upstate New York’s Worst Haircut, just informed me that my Diet Dr. Pepper doesn’t taste as much like Dr. Pepper as Diet Coke tastes like regular Coke.

I heartedly disagree with this assessment AND his additional delusion that the people at Coke have modified Diet Coke over the years so that now it tastes almost identical to the original Coke.

His reasoning? He can actually drink Diet Coke now without gagging.

Personally, I think his aging taste buds are to blame for this delusional tasting.

What do you think?! Is it me…please tell me it’s him being cuckoo.

-image-Save Yourself the Trouble…Buy Round.

October 25, 2008 | Jojo,the homestead,The Nugget

It’s all happening so fast — the growing and almost crawling and being super smooshy cuteing — and now The Nugget has been eating three square-containered meals a day for like a week!

I can’t get enough of this prune mask! My skin is so supple!

Because of The Nugget’s regular dining schedule, we’ve had to rearrange our seating plan around our big ass rectangular dining room table.

Jojo had been at the head of the table since he could, well, sit at the table and smear food all over himself, but what do we do now with The Nugget? I don’t think Mr. Squirrel fretted over this future therapy topic as much as I did.

I don’t think anyone, now, has to be seated at the head of the table. It made sense for when it was three of us, and two of us newbie parents could scramble to pick up spoons and wipe up flicked sweet potato puree, and it’s worked for us since then. The three of us huddled at the end of the table while our laptops, unpaid bills, and random in-between objects occupied the other two-thirds of the table.

Now that The Nugget sits with us for meals, where do we put him? Where do we put Jojo?

We could spread ourselves out around the table — one per side, but that would involve great distances between parents and children and, even more troubling, the need to clean off the junkified table. No can do.

We could just move Jojo next to one of us and The Nugget next to the other parent (no one being at the head)! Can my Type A can handle it… we would still need to clean off more of the table, but we’d be at one end. Off-center. Should I just up and clean off the table and center us? That would be four chairs…so what do I do with the other four? Four on each side? That seems rather crowded. Three on each side plus one on each end makes for an off-center seating once again.

Honestly. I’m making this too difficult. Right?

Here was our solution for two meals:

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, see that plate of cut up chicken nuggets and ketchup? It ended up on the floor because a certain prune-smeared 7 month old tossed it off the table when Jojo wasn’t looking.

Now Jojo won’t sit next to the Nugget. No one, not even his beloved baby brother, messes with his ketchup. No one. So for the duration…until you people out there give me a realistic solution to this serious, serious problem, our lopsided arrangement of Jojo & his dad on one side, The Nugget at the head, and me (with MOUNTAINS of crap next to us) will have to do. I hope you’re happy (note my sneer).

-image-Welcome to Facebook.

October 23, 2008 | Me,trips down amnesia lane

Allow me to re-introduce you to your insecurities.

At first I joined Facebook through a project associated with work. This was when you had to be part of a Network or school in order to join, and because it was for business, most of my contacts were work-related.

Then Facebook took off, and more and more of my friends signed on; anyone can join, which has been a blessing. I’ve reconnected with many great friends from all areas of my past. I’ve hooked many a friend on Facebook, and to those of you who will lose many hours to Wordscraper or any other crazy application, I apologize! But hey, at least we now know what each others’ kids looks like! Yay!

I’m embarrassed to admit that one feature of Facebook has me quaking in my white baggy vneck tshirt and cut off jean shorts. Oh yes. It’s like a bumpy, stinky express train back to college…or worse, high school (we couldn’t wear shorts, so let me think: Guess jeans and my big green Esprit bookbag. And don’t forget the bad perm.).

Well, anyhoo, Facebook has a feature to help people connect with others called “Discover People You May Know.” It displays in a sidebar people who you may know through their connection with another of your friends — sort of a one degree of separation.

My stomach lurched when Girl popped up on my sidebar. There she was. Someone from college, our small, small college, who got under my skin…who still gets under my skin.

She’s like the cute girl next door. Super nice, bubbly, friendly. She knew everyone and everyone’s boyfriend…not in that way, but definitely in the she wanted you to know that she was friends with your boyfriend. That she chatted with him at the party or bar. That she thinks he’s GREAT. And when relationships dissolved, as they did often in college, suddenly she was the rebound girl and she DID then know your (ex)boyfriend.

I saw her do that to several of my friends or classmates. I knew she liked my boyfriend — she made it abundantly clear — and even once said “when you guys break up, he’s mine!” haha she laughed, as she said it in front of several friends, my boyfriend and me, but she meant it.

If you hadn’t guessed it, I was majorly insecure in my relationship (ok, in almost everything), and when this boyfriend, my first love, dumped me, I was wrecked. The Girl lived in the suite next to mine, and it didn’t take long for me to overhear her gushing about hanging out with my Ex at the bar. Things happened, they didn’t last more than a hookup, and well, she moved onto other guys.

I was scarred though– maybe because the situation her habitual rebounding seemed unstoppable and was so very hurtful. She graduated, thankfully, that year.

I ran into her a few years later at a music festival in Chicago with her now husband when I was dating Mr. Squirrel. Ever perky, she inquired about my Ex, and I told her what I knew. I could tell she had no clue how hurt I was by her behavior, even though we weren’t best friends or even roommates. I think she considered me a friend…or at least she was always friendly towards me. Didn’t she realize her behavior wasn’t neighborly? Wasn’t nice? Maybe I wouldn’t have minded so much had she hooked up with my ex if she hadn’t been so forward about wanting him when I was with him. I mean, people move on. I know that. I expected him to date again (although at the time, I wanted him to re-date ME ME ME ONLY ME. I was desperate. It wasn’t pretty).

Anyway, her picture repeatedly comes up on Facebook. Would I like to add her as a Friend?

Does she see my picture and not invite me to be her friend? Might she not recognize me (definitely not my married last name)? Does she know how hurt I was? Maybe she never considered me a friend?

I don’t know. There’s a whole lot of hurt on my side still, and really…do I want her to be my friend? Reading back over this I realize through all the small talk, smiles and mutual friends, she was never my friend. Why, however, do I feel the need to possibly add her as a friend? People pleaser, anyone?

That’s college. High school is a whooollle other ballgame; one that’s still rife with insecurities. I only keep in contact with two high school friends — and one of them I just came into contact with again. My oldest and dearest won’t ever get on Facebook, but this recent re-friendship? Totally on it. I checked out her friends and sweet baby J did I get that icky high school stomach again. One of the first people I saw is a girl who came to our small school our first year in high school. I didn’t even know about her until someone asked me why the new girl hated me so much. Who in the what now?

I wanted everyone to like me, so if she didn’t like me before she even met me, then clearly, we were meant to be bitter enemies. And so that’s how it went for the rest of high school. Mature! And that’s the worst case. What about the people I just haven’t spoken to in 20 years? Do I want to reconnect? Do they want to reconnect with me? Why, after sooo many years, do I not have the strength and self-confidence to say “hi! It’s Stacy…remember me? Go Wildcats!?”

Do any of you feel this way, or again, is it only me?

-image-Am I the only one here?

October 22, 2008 | random randomness

Am I the only one who prefers Jacob over Edward? I’ve only read the first two books (the second which I had to work to get through), and I already own the third; so, I will read it.

Please tell me the third book is better than the second. I honestly don’t know if I can take a third if I have to read for the trillionth time Bella questioning how Edward could love little ol’ mortal her. Seriously. Might. Freak. Out. And. Throw. Book. Through. Window.

And will SOMEONE please step up with me that Jacob is much more awesome than Edward?

I’m all alone here, aren’t I?

-image-Happy Birthday, Jojo!

October 21, 2008 | Jojo

A little birthday boy retrospective…here’s my bayyyybeeee on Day Zero…

Jojo’s 1st Birthday — some calm before the meltdown. I made the egregious error of scheduling the party over his naptime. Never. Again.

Jojo’s 2nd Birthday — outdoor play with friends and a sweet construction site themed cake PLUS a trip to the park afterwards on a beautiful fall day! Success! Check that smile. Gush.

Jojo’s 3rd Birthday — offsite at an indoor bounce place. So many smiles and great naps afterwards. I think geeks call that a win-win.

Happy Birthday, my baby boy. Yes, I still consider you my baby. I will always love you, and yes, I love you so much that I’m running my jiggly behind down to ‘Cole’s house to steal their purple plastic spoons to replace your favorite that I chopped up in the garbage disposal. FOR YOU I WILL REPLACE THE STUPID PLASTIC PURPLE SPOON*.

*new purple plastic spoon + tired Jojo = “I WANT THE OOOLLLLDDDD PURPLE SPPOOOOOOOON” 3 is the new 2, eh?