Le ShallowGal

Literally the lamest post ever

2011-06-03T11:01:00.000-04:00

This week I thanked my husband for 8 blissful years of marriage. He was so annoyed.

Probably because it was our 15th anniversary.

Picky, picky. It's not like I said the other 7 years were a living hell; blissful is a very high achievement for a marriage. We celebrated in style: I got him a $15 itunes gift card and he killed this fly that was really getting on my nerves.

Anywho, Charles & I are having this little disagreement, our first since pillow-gate 1 Today’s issue: The meaning of the word literally.

Example:

Charles: I could literally spend all day throwing a ball to this dog.

Me: I wouldn’t advertise that. It makes you sound kind of lame.

Charles: Well I don’t mean literally, literally. I mean it like ‘not literally.’

Me: So the definition of ‘literally’ is ‘not literally?’

It’s not the only definitional problem we’ve had today. Charles revealed today that he was nominated for ‘hottest something something’.2

Me: Hottest meaning hottest? Or hottest meaning hottest? (Makes vague hand motions)

Charles: Hottest meaning hottest. (Makes no hand motion)
Me: That doesn’t help.

Eight blissful years. Six pretty damn decent years.3 Happy Anniversary to us!

[1] Which considering how much I spent on dresses alone for Jake’s Bar Mitzvah is pretty impressive.

[2] I actually know what he was nominated for, but if he loses, I do not want to be blamed cause he would literally kill me. Oh. Shit.

[3] 2001 was a tough year for everyone so it doesn't really count.

How to plan a Bar Mitzvah~ Shallow-Gal style

2011-04-11T16:18:00.000-04:00

Step 1: Give birth to a boy. (1) Wait thirteen years. Drive kid to Hebrew School every Sunday and Monday.

Step 2: Realize that at the end of the day, honestly, every Bar Mitzvah comes down to 2 things: the weather and your dress. And, really there's only so much you can do about your dress, thus most of your attention should be on the weather. April in DC, historically, is gorgeous.

where's global warming when you need it?

Step 3: Hear the weatherman use the words Historic East Coast Snowstorm.

Step 4: Cry.

Step 5: Turn attention back to the dress. Or dresses if you want to be all technical about it. Cause by Friday night I had six possibilities hanging from the back of my closet door. One size 8, four size 10s and a very sad emergency 12. (2)

Step 6: Watch boy child read from the Torah and turn into a man before your very eyes. Beam with pride. Care a little less about the weather.

but would it kill it to stop hailing?

Step 7: Party the night away, surrounded by everyone you love in the entire world. Realize what's really important.

The dress, obviously

1) Lord have mercy, it's going to be one of those posts.
2) I'm a stress eater. Sue me.

How Bored is Amy? So bored!

2011-02-27T15:56:00.002-05:00

When Eli was a baby, my favorite game was "How big is Baby?" It's awesome cause you just lie the baby on your lap and squeak "How big is baby?" and then you stretch the baby's arms out over his head and say "SO BIG!" It sounds dull, but trust me, once you enter the mind numbing realm of Candy Land, you yearn for 'How Big is Baby'.

But one problem. Eli's not a baby anymore. He's in Kindergarten, full-day Kindergarten at that, leaving me with 7 hours a day all to myself. So I invented a new game called "How bored is Amy?" It's really similar to "How big is baby" but with no baby.

You're really being dense about this. It's easier to just show you:

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to pull out the dead tomato plants and get the garden ready for next spring?

I'm not dead yet!

Nope, not that bored.

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to clean out the stash of miscellaneous crap piled behind the sofa?

Fine show-off. Where do you store your broken ice cream maker?

I don't think I'll ever be that bored. (1)

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to resume blogging on a semi-regular basis? Hahahahahahah. You people kill me.

This game sucks, almost as much as Candy Land. Hold on, there's a point.

How Bored is Amy? So Bored!

Bored enough to haul over to Target and buy some Clairol to see what I'd look like as a redhead?

Exactly that bored. (2)

1)That stuff, as well as the contents of the attic and the crawl space is all going to convey when I sell the house.
2) I am in no way comparing myself to Lucille Ball except for hair color and obviously the fact that my husband & I sleep in twin beds.

Passive-aggressive valentines, Shallow-Gal & son style

2011-02-07T20:04:00.023-05:00

You know those days where you're on fire? Where you wake up just aching to get going and you take that to-do list and make it your bitch?

I had that day. (1) I hit the bank and the grocery store, paid bills, bought new running shoes, supervised the addressing of 37 Valentines day cards and to cap it all off, I started a blog.

Then I learned that apparently I already have a blog. Who knew?

So anyway, Eli came home today with a list of Valentines. Twenty seven classmates, the teacher, assistant teacher, music / art / gym teachers, lunch lady, bruin buddies, reading buddies and someone cryptically listed as Miss Ruth (volunteer).

We started with the 27 classmates, preparing for each a little bug themed card with a tiny matching tattoo. (2) Eli wrote his name on each one and then carefully copied each name from his list and checked it off. Then he did the same for the adults on his list until, amazingly enough, the giant box o' fancy walmart cards was empty.

So he had three names left but no little bug cards to give them. (3) As much as I hated to do it, I brought out the foam hearts, fancy paper and a glue stick. And quickly went upstairs before he could ask for help.

It's not like he needed my assistance anyway; Eli has his finger on the pulse of what women want to hear on February 14rth. Take the card for his teacher:

Translation: Take It up. The heart. The green one.

It's an interactive card. They're all the rage in Kindergarten. You lift up the sides of the green heart and then you say "Dammit" when the pieces fall off in your hand and you have to find where Eli left the glue stick so you can fix it before he wakes up. Hooray for interactive cards!

He saved his real sweet talk for the assistant teacher:

Translation: I love you as much as Mrs Taylor

I probably should have explained that Mrs Taylor is his teacher. Do assistant teachers have inferiority complexes? I know at least one who will now.

Last on the list, but not least in Eli's heart, the woman I've never heard of before today, the woman he refers to as 'Miss Ruth Volunteer'. Because there's no way the teacher is padding this list so the kids have to practice handwriting, right? Or possibly she owns stock in Hallmark?

Translation: I Do Not Know you.

Happy Valentine's Day, Miss Ruth Volunteer.

1) Aha! Admit it. You thought I was going to say "Me Neither." I am Full o' surprises today!
2) Clever buggy sentiments like "You're not a pest!"
3) Although he did have 2 bug tattoos left. Valentine Card Counter Fail!

Flat Stanley for the Bravo Generation

2010-10-14T13:28:00.021-04:00

Ah, Flat Stanley. The cautionary tale of a boy who gets smooshed by a bulletin board and ends up, spoiler alert, FLAT! (1) Our hero finds the silver lining by getting his mom to mail him to California in a manila envelope. Lest you worry that this isn't the best plan ever, his mom also sticks an egg salad sandwich in there.

And thus was born an entire second grade curriculum. Students mail paper Stanleys to friends and relatives all over the world and take pictures of his adventures. Or rather over-eager parents and grandparents do this. The kids are all fixated on how how bad that envelope must have smelled.

This is actually a photo of a photo. I have a dream that one day man will invent
the technology that skips one of those steps. (2)

We actually colored Stanley a yarmulke and sent him with my mom to Israel. I have an entire album of Stanley touring the Middle East. Do you think my second grader even bothered to show it to his teacher?

Well, Hell. If I'm gonna drag a paper cut-out of some attention seeking whore all over creation, let's at least liven this puppy up.

Introducing Flat Salahi.

I'm surprised they couldn't get a better parking spot.

Fun fact! You can now rent the Salahis, the way you might hire a magician or a James Bond impersonator for a kid's party. (3) You never know where America's favorite couple might show up next. Your nephew's bar mitzvah? The opening of a Hyundai dealership?

Or the mouthwash aisle!

Sometimes a caption is just too easy.

I went to Target for braces wax and a new pill box and found neither.
But they did have 4 different kinds of coconut milk.

1) He was already named Stanley, poor kid. The odds were already stacked against him.
2)We will call it "The Digital Camera."
2) The standard joke is "like one might rent a clown" but I'm trying to be less predictable. Although just by posting twice in the same week, I think I'm ahead of the predictability curve!

Everything I ever needed to know about insulting one's mother, I learned in Kindergarten

2010-10-11T16:26:00.010-04:00

Despite Eli's protests (1) or maybe because of them, I've been volunteering in the elementary school cafeteria. (2)

Anyway I'm walking around the table, sticking tiny straws into milk containers and reminding kids to eat their sandwich before the cookies, and a little boy turns to Eli and says "I know what your mom looks like."

Every single child from room 37 stopped eating and looked at Eli. What could he possibly say to counter this attack? I waited for Eli to defend my honor, perhaps with a "Isn't she beautiful?" or "I hope my wife looks like that at 41!" (3)

But instead there's silence while his mind searches for the perfect retort.

Maybe a classic like 'Your mother's so stupid she failed a survey.' Or something retro-cultural like 'Your mother's so fat, when she went outside in a red dress, everyone yelled, "HEY, KOOL-AID!'

So many to choose from!

Five minutes later Eli turns to the boy and says "Well I know what your mom looks like too." And the little boy was stupefied. Silenced!

Honestly the public schools just don't get the respect they deserve.

1) And my better judgment
2) Translation: I went once and it was really traumatic so now I do all the typing and cutting for the teacher in the safety of my own home. Or rather I will if the teacher asks far enough in advance for me to get a good netflix movie while I do it.
3) The 3 R's: Reading, writing and sucking up to one's mother. WTF? Writing doesn't start with an R either.

Wrong Word Wednesday (1): The "REALLY? This is how you choose to re-enter the world of blogging?" edition

2010-09-28T07:28:00.003-04:00

I'm not even sure which of my cookbooks tells me how to prepare foot funghi (2)

1) I know it's Tuesday. That's what makes it funny. It's been a while, I know.
2) Alternate caption was something about regular quality foot funghi

Another casulty of the recession

2010-08-05T08:50:00.011-04:00

All is not well in ShallowLand.

It's this stupid recession.

To save money, Charles' company made some rule that restricted his travel schedule.

So my husband, usually on the road 16-20 days a month, is now home every single night.

Which sounds like it would be exactly what I want. And in theory it would be. But there's one problem.

We only own one pillow.

That might be a slight exaggeration. We really own 32 gazillion pillows. (1) But we only own one good pillow.

Back in the olden days, I'd use the pillow Monday thru Friday and then Charles would use it on the weekends when he was home. And I would have been so well rested from my 5 nights with the good pillow that I could sleep on an inferior pillow just fine. And sometimes on Sundays I'd manage to fall asleep, or at least play possum, before he got into bed and hope he wouldn't wake me just to get the good pillow.

Those days are over. Charles is home 7 nights a week and asserts that it's his pillow, just cause I bought it for him for our anniversary.

I was telling my friend Wendy (2) this story the other day and she offered to buy me a new pillow. As if it's that easy.

The pillow in question is a Tempur-pedic neck pillow. And according to their website buying the wrong size could be hazardous to your health:

It is important that you choose the proper pillow thickness based on your shoulder dimensions and sleeping position preference to promote an anatomically correct posture. A pillow that forces your head too high or allows it to fall too far back not only places stress on your neck, but could inhibit breathing.

I just can't take that chance.

There's a chart (3) to help you buy the right pillow. But it asks all these personal questions like my height. Do I use the height I tell the weight watchers people so my goal weight can be 10 pounds higher? (4) Or should I use the height that allows my husband to perpetuate the myth that he's really 5'9" (5) ?

Tempur-pedic also needs to know if I sleep on my side or my back and I sleep on my stomach. I'm afraid if I go into the Healthy Back store and tell them that, not only will they not sell me a new pillow, they might take away the one I already have.

Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, this recession will end, my husband will resume his busy travel schedule and I will regain full custody of the pillow.

1) Does 'integrity in blogging' require me to really go upstairs and count all the pillows?
2) Wendy is totally awesome but was eliminated from BFF contention because she's training for a marathon. I have a strict "no-runners" clause.
3) A chart. To buy a pillow. This is why the terrorists hate us.
4)5'6"
5) 5'4"

T minus one

2010-07-08T20:26:00.000-04:00

The day we've all been dreading is nigh. Despite my pleas and my prayers Linda is moving to Leesburg tomorrow .

Obviously I have a plan. During the move, I'll be watching 3 of her 4 children. I'll send her this text.

Planning to kidnap your BFFs kids? There's an App for that.

Unfortunately it probably won't work. Linda knows me well enough that she's stashing her spare kid somewhere else.

Paperwork Hell

2010-07-03T08:10:00.004-04:00

What I'm looking for:

Noa's camp medical form that took the pediatrician 2 weeks, cost me $20 and was due 6 weeks ago.

What I found instead:

The obedience school diploma
for a dog that's been dead for 25 years. (1)

I think it's fair to say that I need a better system.

1) What do you call the dog who graduates last in his class from obedience school? Doctor. Wait, wrong joke.

Le excuse

2010-06-11T06:22:00.003-04:00

I don't know. There's no excuse. I've been doing stuff, interesting (1) stuff. Plenty to tell you. I'm in a good mood, getting my RDA of sunshine and exercise. I just haven't been feeling writey lately.

But then the fabulous Mouthy Housewives asked me (ME!) to guest post. (2) Giving assvice (3) is my speciality (4) along with making monte cristos and, well, I'm running low on specialities these days.

So go over there and give me some love. Make those mouthy Housewives wonder why it took them so damn long.

1) Interesting if you're my mother or my shrink
2) About fucking time.
3) Advice that comes out of my ass, duh.
4) Pronounced Spesh E ality.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday, Federal Holiday edition

2010-05-31T19:29:00.003-04:00

I can't be the only one stymied by what I found under the couch today:

Either my husband is moon lighting for the cable company
or the couch is haunted.

Le Post that sits and sits because I can't think of a title.

2010-05-28T08:06:00.005-04:00

Tuesday will be Charles and my 14th wedding anniversary. The traditional gift is ivory, but I'm going with the more contemporary gift: the world's largest gummy bear. (1) (2)

Photo borrowed from the awesome folks at Vat19.com

I got the idea, no kidding, from Kelly on the Real Housewives of New York, who tweeted about it, after complaining that she didn't eat processed food, while shoving gummy bears and jelly beans in her mouth. Because nobody embodies a healthy, happy relationship like Kelly.

Secret to our lengthy nuptials? Separate bathrooms. It sure as hell isn't our communications skills. To wit:

Charles: I saw the beginning of a good movie last night on HBO, we should put it on our Netflix queue.

Me: I thought we canceled HBO.

Charles: We did, that's why we should see if it's on Netflix.

Me: Did they not turn the HBO off? Do we need to call Directv again?

Charles: No they turned it off, we're good.

Me: I'm really stymied here. How did you see this movie?

Charles: I watched it on HBO last night.

Me:

Charles: In the hotel.

Me:

Charles: In Boston.

Me:

Charles: Where I was last night.

Me:

Charles: You did notice I wasn't here last night? (3)

We had another little snafu when I got stuck at an appointment and I texted him to ask if he could pick Eli up at a friend's house on his way home from work and he replied

and then a minute later

PROB

which I interpreted as No and then Probably, which I thought was a strange response because I'm at the doctor and it's not like Eli has mastered the suburban public transportation schedule, but he actually meant NO PROBLEM. (4)

Then again, who needs communication when you have a 5 pound gummy bear?

1) I made a similar joke on our 12th anniversary.
2) He got me an ivory patent leather Coach bag and you all don't need me to spell out that whole process, although suffice it to say, that I've been doing my own shopping since I got tic tacs for my birthday. I also bought a kick-ass pair of sandals but I can't manage to make that one relate. I'm losing my touch.
3) In my defense, I'm not very observant.
4) Originally I wrote "I dunno, you be the judge." but you people are unpredictable lately, and I can't have you all taking his side.

Le Dog

2010-05-21T12:55:00.011-04:00

I feel like I haven't been entirely honest with you.

Probably because I haven't.

You know my dog, Dobie? The big ferocious one? And his equally menacing dog sitter, Al? (1) All made up. The Shallow home was, until yesterday, blissfully canine-free.

But you can't be too mad because Karma has bit me in the ass with a petulant, cranky, dog.

Huge scary picture courtesy of the
West Sacramento Photo of the Day blog.
only this dog is better cause he brought tequila.

His name is Joe. Joe, as in Joe Giradi, manager of the New York Yankees, not Joe, like Joe the Plumber. Jake was opposed to the name Joe because he thought it made him sound average. This dog aspires to be average. His full legal name is Josephat Macaroni-Head, so that's what I'll call him when he's in trouble. Which is apparently going to be all the fucking time.

He's a rescue dog, and I'll admit that Eli wasn't the only one disappointed when he wasn't dropped off by a hunky firefighter. He's a grade A mutt; best guess is part lab, part water dog, part Satan hound.

Yes, Satan Hound. Example: when we pet sat for friends, we would leave their dogs in the upstairs hallway with all the doors and the baby gate closed when we went out. It gives them more room than a crate plus a view. We've never had any complaints. Until today.

In the 20 minutes it took me to drop Eli off at school, Joe managed to chew thru the baby gate, thru his leash in 72 different places and then destroy Jake's brand new size 7 1/2 (men's) Keens. (2) Twenty minutes. I can't empty the dishwasher that fast. Look like we'll be adding a crate to our already super cluttered 1372 square feet home.(3,4)

On the bright side, I finally have fodder for my book, which I think I'll title Joe and Me, Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog. Jennifer Aniston can play me in the movie adaptation. I'm also going to start a website called Shit my Dog Destroyed, which is going to be an overnight sensation.

Stupid Karma.

1) Although I don't really know what's menacing about downloading porn.
2) Details added in case any of my readers are actually Keen representatives.
3) 4 bedrooms, 3 baths in a good school district in case any of my readers are actually benevolent real estate moguls.
4) So cluttered and too small to have anything good to steal. Oh wait, I really do have a dog now, stalkers! Named Joe, short for Cujo.

How to prepare for a terrorist attack and/or natural disaster: ShallowGal style

2010-05-19T07:48:00.004-04:00

I feel like I should start with a disclaimer: I'm not a disaster expert. Pretty much everything I know on the topic comes from watching movies like 2012 and Volcano and Gigli. So if you've reached this page because you have 15 minutes to evacuate your home and you've already wasted the first 2 minutes of that googling "What should I take when I evacuate because of a natural disaster and/or terrorist attack?" please go find some official disaster site. Actually get off the damn computer, grab your kids and your keys and get the hell out of dodge. I'm sure you'll pass a 7-11.

But hopefully you're reading this preemptively. First you need one of those big rubbermaid bins with a matching latching lid. You might want to pick a color that matches your living room decor, that way you can use it as a coffee table. (1) I taped a supply list to the front for ease of identification.

Which is more disturbing, that half the list is missing or
that not a single item is checked off? (2)

You need to put a great deal of thought into packing these disaster kits. They need to provide everything a family of 5 needs to survive for three days. Every inch of the bin should be carefully allocated to the bare necessities. (3)

As in "Congratulations, you have survived the Apocalypse."

Let's keep looking. Next up, three platters, my favorite of which has broken. (4)

My thinking was probably that the banner
will have drawn all the other survivors
and they'll be expecting nibbles.

But before we can throw this big shindig to celebrate our survival, we actually need to do some surviving. C'mon, Amy. Check the damn half-list.

Would you be surprised to learn that neither flashlight has batteries?

Next up, a large purple beach bag stuffed with essentials. Maybe not stuffed, but definitely essential.

Essential if I need proof that I've been to Ocean City
or I need to build a quick IKEA bookcase
or measure Jake for a skating dress.

After 9/11, when I extensively researched evacuation kits, there was a lot of discussion about grapefruit seed extract and oil of oregano as all-purpose magic must haves.

Although it really only had the effect of making the box smell
like an Italian restaurant.

All joking aside, a first aid kit is a necessity.

I'm prepared for basically any injury sustained during the apocalypse
as long as it's a headache or a skinned knee.

Maps! This makes sense because there's a good chance that the satellite that controls the combined 4 GPS's (5) in our cars have been affected.

This way I can get from ground zero to ground zero. Or Delaware.

Under the maps, a great surprise! I have been looking for this vacuum attachment for, I kid you not, 4 years. I've been vacuuming my house with the little round attachment that you use for dusting.

Life as you you know it is over, but cheer up, I found the vacuum attachment!

Score! Duplicate maps!

We're reaching the bottom. The things that were so important that I must have packed them first. A dinosaur puppet. A sixth map.(6) A can opener and a novelty bottle opener. A blush applicator and a bow.

Actually the bow may come in handy for the house warming present

for the lucky Delaware resident I drop in on.

1) The whole point here is that you want to grab your emergency kit and run, gaining you valuable time ahead of ~~the competition~~ your neighbors.
2) Answer: Neither. Just you wait.
3) ♫ The simple bare necessities! ♫
4) Meaning the volcanoes have already won.
5) GPS' ? GPSes'? GPS's's? GPSi ?
6) Of Delaware, natch.

The BFF search begins

2010-05-14T14:49:00.004-04:00

So I've been hard at work these past 2 weeks, auditioning new best friends. I've decided that most likely, I'm going to promote from within. Just to keep the learning curve to a minimum. (1) There are a lot of important things that I don't have time to teach a new BFF, like when my birthday is. (3)

One of my leading contenders is Hope, aka Lolita Travelsalot, a friend since our La Leche League days, 12 years ago. You know her as my baycation partner in crime, and also from BlogHer '08.

That's Hope on the left, and btw, this is the picture to
be used in my obituary.

Pros:

Fabulous wardrobe that she's willing to share, and even pretends will fit me, even though, c'mon, look at her!
Willing to drink before noon.
Long shared history. I've spent the past week looking for the most adorable picture of Noa and her middle daughter dressed like bumblebees for their dance recital when they were 4.
Not only remembered my birthday but even took me out for lunch.

Cons: (4)

Because she's so gosh-darned awesome, her schedule is pretty full. I hate to break this to you, but I'm a fairly high maintenance friend.

And so the search continues . . .

1) My husband mentioned that until my post last week, he thought *HE* was my best friend. Isn't that cute? Although, funny story: I was reading this book called How to Have a New Husband by Friday (2) and it mandated that you shouldn't complain about your husband to your friends. Which begs the question, who should I complain about my husband to? Total strangers on the street? Grocery clerks? Not a well thought out book, I think we can agree.
2) Which was utter tripe, and I took a lot of crap for reading it, even though it was just for potential blog fodder.
3) It was last Monday by the way, and a tremendous number of contestants neglected to so much as send a card and were immediately disqualified.
4) Besides, you know, working too hard and caring too much.

SG searches for a new best friend.

2010-04-30T09:48:00.017-04:00

Linda, my real life BFF, has put her house on the market, six months earlier than planned. (1)

So the search for a new BFF has moved up my to-do list. Originally I had planned to hold informal auditions over the summer, maybe organize some kind of reality show in August, and reach a final decision, probably with some kind of bridging ceremony, in the fall. But if I'm to have a new best friend in place the day Linda moves, I need to get started yesterday. And considering I'm still working several hours a day on a post I started last August (2) I think we can all agree timeliness is not my best quality. (3)

(Although if you did agree, you're automatically out of the running. My BFF would never say something like that about me. )

And just so we're clear, if you think you know how this is going to end, with some preachy dialogue about how true friendship can survive, and for the love of all things holy, she's only moving 40 minutes to the west and she already lives 20 minutes to the east now, and what's 20 minutes more? No. At the end of this series, I will have a new best friend, and visit Linda weekly and reminisce about the good old days. And take Linda's five calls a day even when I'm out with my Linda2.0 so as to remind her that she's fine, but not quite as good as her predecessor, until I cause another poor soul to move out to the middle of nowhere as well.

Let's get looking. I can't imagine there isn't a line around the block already.

1)Marinka helpfully pointed out last week that Leesburg, where Linda is moving, sounds made up, so I asked for a forwarding address. It's 123 Main Street. And her new number is 867-5309. So there, Marinka!

2) It was about a dinner party I had with David, Vuboq and some guy whose name I don't even remember anymore. I was going to title it Queer Eye for the ShallowGal and we made pizzas on the grill topped with produce from the garden and it had one funny line about confusing it with a 6 year old's birthday, and this picture & caption:

It may look unorthodox
but I can guarantee that his elbow hasn't been in his nose or his butt.

So if today's blog accomplishes nothing else, I got that monkey off my back. (2.1)

2.1) But not this monkey:

AKA something about my trip to Nicaragua.
Yes. It's an actual monkey on my back. In Nicaragua.
See how I made that transition seamlessly? This stuff takes time, people!

3) What's the most important thing aboutwritingablogpost?TIMING! That joke never gets old.

You think you're busy?

2010-04-20T19:49:00.003-04:00

You should see Eli's to-do list. He dictated it to me at competition practice this morning.

Keep your fingers crossed that he gets it all done
cause once you fall behind on drawing hearts, basically you never catch up.

Wrong Word Wednesday

2010-04-13T21:07:00.002-04:00

Keeping in mind all the usual niceties about how English is hard, my Spanish / Korean / Farsi isn't any better, how I always try to have a nice blog . . .oh fuck it. Get a load of this note I found today on the community bulletin board:

OK, admit it. On first glance (1) your first thought also was that this woman was offering a weekly blowjob. And your second thought was how much time contracting that job out would free up in your week. I know for a fact that I'm not the only pervert on the internet.

1) Unless you're my friend Bethanny who found the note and only noticed that Janet was offering prizes. You'll be reading more about Bethanny soon in my upcoming series (2) where I write about the auditions I'm having to replace my BFF Linda who is fucking leaving me to move to Leesburg.
2) I'm telling you now, possibly spoiling the suspense because I guarantee that by the end of the week I will tweet "I had the best idea for a blog and now I can't remember it."

How to do a science experiment, ShallowGal style

2010-04-08T08:47:00.009-04:00

This post is written to honor Susan, aka WhyMommy, who is simultaneously the smartest and the strongest woman I know. Kick some cancer ass Susan!

Not to put too fine a point on it, but really, I think we can all agree that all science experiments boil down into one of 2 camps:

1) Those conducted with mentos and diet coke
2) Those conducted without mentos and diet coke.

And I'm sure you can guess where I pitched my virtual tent.

Purpose of experiment: Show Susan how much we love her by comparing the reaction of mentos with diet coke as compared to the reaction of mentos with generic diet soda.

Hypothesis: That somebody will have a meltdown before the end of this experiment. Probably Noa. And that kids will want to eat the mentos. Also I'll taste the remaining diet coke and decided that with a little rum, it's still drinkable. Yes those are all hypothesis. Hypothesi? Hypothesises? (1) And that generic diet cola will not have as big a reaction cause honestly, it tastes more like diet pepsi than diet coke. (2) Hey! Can one of you kids go run to the 7-11 and buy diet pepsi, cause coke vs pepsi would be a better experiment. What do you mean you're only five? You know where the 7-11 is. Yes, the place where Mommy buys lottery tickets. It's not too far. No I have to stay here and guard the mentos. Fine. We'll save that experiment for next year's science fair.

Observation: That sure enough, all of the kids wanted to eat the mentos. And upon realizing they were the mint flavored ones, they spit them out. And stuck them in the generic cola before I had my camera ready, and created only a mini-geyser, thus ruining the entire experiment. And resulting in a mass meltdown.

Conclusion: Mentos/diet coke science is way harder than you think. (3)

1) C'mon Spell-check, a little help here.
2) Or diet shasta. Remember that crap?
3) Still, I expect at least a ribbon since I properly followed the Hypothesis / observation / conclusion model.

How to prolong your stay in Immigration & Customs, a play in one act

2010-04-05T17:37:00.010-04:00

Scene: Dulles Airport, Immigration and Customs. 2am.

Amy (to posse): Listen up. We've been on the move for 19 hours, and I know you're exhausted. All we need to do is go thru these next two checkpoints, get our bags, catch the shuttle to the car and Bob's your Uncle. So you know the rule here; nobody, and I mean, NOBODY says anything to the nice immigration officer or the nice customs person unless asked a direct question. They DO NOT CARE about our vacation. Capiche?

Noa: Can I tell them you got drunk on rum and swam naked in the pool?

Amy: Anything they need to know, I will tell them.

Nice Immigration Man (Studies form, shakes head, writes a large letter A on our form) You were on a Nicaraguan farm? And you admitted to it? You're going to need to go to agricultural customs for additional inspection.

Amy, PCSguy and Posse drag over to Agricultural customs.

Nice Agricultural Customs Officer: Because you were on a farm, I'm going to need to disinfect all your shoes.

Amy: Really?

NACO: Oh sure. We don't want to infect our agriculture with foreign germs. (She pulls out a bucket and starts spraying shoes) Did you have a nice vacation?

(Kids nod, possibily following instructions, but more likely wondering who Uncle Bob is, and how many delinquent birthday presents he owes them.)

NACO: And your flight? How was that?

(Kids smile and nod and I try to make some excuse about how they're not really rude or stupid, just tired)

NACO: Well thank you for being honest on your customs form.

(Kids nod again)

NACO (to Eli:) Your turn. Can I have your shoes?

Eli: Sure. But watch out for the brown stuff. It's monkey diarrhea.

Spring Break

2010-03-26T09:56:00.012-04:00

Guess where the Shallow family is going for Spring Break. Seriously, guess.

Wrong. Here's a hint.

Your hint is that this particular bookstore carries
exactly ZERO guidebooks about my destination.

Tomorrow at 4 am, the entire Shallow family will head off to the airport for the 5 hour flight to Panama, followed by a 2 hour flight to Managua followed by a 3 hour drive to fulfill my almost sixteen-month-long dream of going to Nicaragua.

I'm taking 3 kids to a place that they aren't writing guidebooks about yet. Yes, I know it's the second poorest country in the Americas. Yes, Nicaragua has active volcanoes, earthquakes and malaria. Trust me, my mother googled it all.

But it also has this.

And this

and this.

So I think we'll be just fine.

I won't be blogging while I'm gone. I'm going dark. (1) And sorry, Servant of the Most High. I'll be turning off comments while I'm gone. Go spam someone else.

1) I wish I could say it's because I want to completely focus on the kids, but honestly I just doubt there's wifi in Nicaragua. Also this way the dog sitter won't download porn on the kids computer. (2)
2) I know it was you Al, and I'm over it. Just don't do it again.

I went to 3 birthday parties this weekend and all I got was these 2 lousy pictures.

2010-03-23T15:13:00.018-04:00

I really don't want to drop names (BOSSY!) but I had the most fabulous weekend (VUBOQ!) and got to hang out with the coolest people (DAVID!)

And I have the photographic evidence to prove it.

Here I have lined my drinks up shortest to tallest.
Trust me, it was really funny at the time. (1)

I took this one on the way home
because apparently I'm a tourist.

Satisfied? No wait! Really! I was there! Here let's look at some, ahem, borrowed pictures of the festivities.

How adorable is the birthday boy? Answer: very!

Here Bossy is either warning me to stay away from her gays
or begging me to be her roommate at Mom 2.0 next year.
Possibly both at the same time, there was a lot of whiskey involved.

SMIZE!

There's my husband standing next to David
while David auditions for a beer commercial.

The guy on the left is VUBOQs uber-awesome brother, who needs to come back to DC cause I have the greatest woman to introduce to him.

This weekend was also Jake's twelfth birthday. (2) There are zero pictures of that because his party included girls and I spent the whole party acting like I wasn't eavesdropping and I suck at multi-tasking. Being the stud his father is raising him to be, Jake sat at the movie between his girlfriend and his ex-girlfriend.

Too bad Larry didn't answer the pay phone over at the Regal Beagle cause Jake really could have used his help.

Our third birthday party was for the kids skating coach and can you even imagine the hell to pay if I told you I took dozens of pictures of that one?

1) Honestly, is there anything more annoying than people talking about things that were funny when they were drunk?
2) But his social media skills suck, so he gets second billing.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday

2010-03-17T07:32:00.002-04:00

His Jewish preschool is going to be pissed
but Eli is taking no chances of his sister pinching him

Who's on first?

2010-03-15T20:42:00.002-04:00

Eli: I know this song. It's Eye of the Tiger.

Me: No it's (pauses, listens) I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

Eli: What are you looking for?

Me: No, that's the name of the song.

Eli: What's the name of the song?

Me: I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Eli: (Deep sigh) Fine. I'll help you look after Eye of the Tiger is over.

WWSMS

2010-03-12T14:22:00.001-05:00

Years ago, Self Magazine (1) used to run a feature where they'd stop a random woman at the grocery store check-out lane and evaluate the nutritional value for everything she bought. I figured my odds of getting chosen were probably a solid 50 / 50 so for years I'd put all the healthy stuff first and then when the cashier started bagging, and I figured no reporter was going to pop out, I'd pick up the little lane divider and claim the junk as my own.

And even today, I still always look at my groceries and wonder:

What would Self Magazine Say? (2)

I figure the interview would go something like this:

Self Magazine: A gallon of low fat organic milk and whole wheat bread with no high fructose corn syrup. That's a pretty good start.

ShallowGal: Thanks. We only drink about a gallon a week, so it's not a big deal to buy it organic. And I read the low fat allows you to absorb more calcium than skim milk.

Self Magazine: Berries, carrots and broccoli. Not bad. The berries are one of the things you should buy organic. And you could stand some more dark greens.

ShallowGal: I know. When the weather gets nicer and I can go to the farmer's market, I will. And Millie just brought me a cantaloupe and some red peppers so I didn't need too much more produce.

Self Magazine: OK, not a big deal, you don't need to get all defensive, this is just a friendly little page filler. So here, the four pounds of chicken is fine,if not a little ambitious, but you know to limit red meat to once a week right? And fish. You should be eating fish four times a week.

ShallowGal: Gag.

Self Magazine: Holy cereal batman! What was there, a sale?

ShallowGal: Yes.

Self Magazine: Pretty. It's nice to treat yourself to something non caloric sometimes.

ShallowGal: Yes, non caloric treats. Exactly what I was thinking when I bought them.

Self Magazine : Oh yeah, we heard about this. So where's the rest of the wine?

ShallowGal: Just the one bottle.

Self Magazine: So you don't mind if we go look in the car?

ShallowGal: No, go right ahe. . .Stop! Wait. . . fine. There's 3 more bottles in the car.

Self Magazine: Three more?

ShallowGal: Five. You get a ten percent discount for buying six.

Self Magazine: And those baby bottle nipples on top of the cookbook. Are those from the foster baby you had here the first week in January? It's mid-March! How often do you clean this kitchen?

Self Magazine: Lunchables! Lordy, is this a joke? They're filled with sodium and nitrates! How long would it take to just make a sandwich anyway? And there's a rumor you call them DINNERABLES. I knew you were full of shit with all that chicken. What do you do all day, that come 5 o'clock all you have the energy left to do is pull off a plastic cover?

ShallowGal: Actually the kids can do that themselves.

Self Magazine: Wow, all that pretend turkey makes you snarky. And what's the deal with the toaster? Everytime we see a picture it's a different one. I've never met anyone who cycles thru toasters and dishwashers this quickly. What exactly goes on in here?

I think we all see now why that particular feature ended.

1) Maybe they still do, my subscription ran out. Hint hint Self Magazine!
2) Get it? WWSMS.

Special

2010-03-09T08:04:00.001-05:00

As far as I'm concerned, there are basically two categories of notes that kids bring home from school. The first informs you of a classroom lice infestation (1) and the second warns of an impending award ceremony. In my house, both kinds of notes are viewed with equal terror.

Maybe it's ADHD in me, but sitting through any kind of school assembly bores me to tears. (2) There's just not enough drama. (3) If I were the principal, I'd totally arrange for someone to propose or get a Harley delivered during the event de jour. Now that's entertainment.

So last week when Jake brought home a notice about a ceremony for Reflections winners, it was headed straight to the recycling bin. (3.5) Then I noticed a small handwritten note on the bottom.

"Jake will be receiving a special award."

Like I'm falling for that. Not my first rodeo, nice PTA volunteer. If I were to ever redesign my blog, my tag line would be "avoiding all school functions since 1998." I sent the nice PTA volunteer an email:

"We're so proud of Jake and excited for him to receive his award. Unfortunately, we have some other commitments for that afternoon. (4) Before we rearrange our plans, can you please specify if Jake has won a special award or a "special award?" Thanks so much.

Within a few minutes we had received the following response:

"Jake will be receiving a special award."

I'm pretty sure she's playing with my head because NOBODY is that dense.

Because even more than the boredom factor, I object to the whole pretend award aspect. I'm cool with giving the kid who showed up at every swim meet but never scored any points a little trophy. But back in 2005 when we went on a Disney cruise, Jake got a diploma for "graduating" cruise ship camp.

Hence my suspicion of "special awards."

Thanks to BillyBear4Kids pretty much anyone can be special.
Although in this case, "special" refers to the upside-down monkey

I asked Jake how important my attendance was to him. He explained that he knew that he hadn't won a first, second or third place award as those had already been announced. But maybe like in Toddlers and Tiaras (5), he was excluded from those because he was being pulled for a higher award. You know, like Grand Poem Supreme. Also there was going to be cake. So I went.

Of the 53 kids who entered this year's reflections contest in Jake's school: 8 first places, 12 second places, 9 third places, 23 honorable mentions.

And one special award.

We still aren't entirely sure what this award signifies but I suspect it's
PTA code for "trick that poor kid's mother into showing up."

1) Lice notes will be covered in an upcoming blog post, and integrated so craftily that you'll say "Oh THAT'S where she was going with it." Or not. I'm unpredictable that way.
2) And I do mean any kind. I sat out a large portion of my own law school graduation.
3) Exception: any ceremony involving Noa contains plenty of drama.
3.5) I may be a crappy mother but at least I recycle.
4) Not a lie! On this particular Friday, I had both the season finale of Real Housewives of Orange County and the season premiere of Real Housewives of New York on tivo.
5) Ahh Toddlers and Tiaras. Offensive and creepy, but entertaining.

Begin with the end in mind

2010-03-03T08:06:00.002-05:00

First off, thank you so much for the incredibly warm welcome back. I wish I could thank each of you personally, and honestly, since there were only a dozen comments I probably could, but I don't want to set that kind of precedent. What if I hit the big time? It would be like the blogging equivalent of driving you all to the airport. (1) Begin with the end in mind, I always say. (2)

But seriously, thank you. You all were way too kind. (3) Had I known, I would have stopped blogging years ago.

Blogging after a hiatus presents unique challenges. So much happened during my unfortunate incarceration that it's hard to decide what to write about first. We weathered three blizzards. I had a mammogram with a suspicious, but ultimately benign, mass. There were enough earthquakes to make us wonder about the end of days. My kids took TEN snow days, making the end of days look like a pipe dream (4)

Of course, there were good times too. A family vacation in Mexico. A coaster bonanza in Orlando. Eli turned five. We snuggled with a newborn foster baby and hung out with an about-to-be adopted teenager.

But one image stands out from all others. One life-changing, brief glimpse of something that makes one wonder: What is it all about, this thing called life?

Although in this case, it's meat on a stick in a box.

Let me know where to pick up my Pulitzer.

1) For the record, I do occasionally drive PCSguy to the airport. But I charge him $30. Hey! Gas ain't free!
2) I do too always say it, I've already said it twice in this very entry. Exception: Blogging. I usually just sit down and type until I get bored. (I have no clue where I'm going with this entry. Hell, I have no clue where this footnote is headed!)
3)Even Kelly who called me a biatch.
4) FYI: If I were to rank these in terms of disturbance factor, I'd go with (from least to most upsetting) mass, blizzards, earthquakes, snow days.

A very Shallow excuse-fest

2010-02-26T08:23:00.006-05:00

If there's one thing I've been asked repeatedly over the past 3 months it's "Who the Hell taught you to park? Do you see those lines? Do you have some aversion to parking inside of them?"

And the occasional person also asks why I haven't been blogging.

I blame both things on the snow. It makes it hard to see the parking spot and it does a real number on my mood. And seriously, how many whiny snowbound posts can one person write? We were both better off.

No need to feel guilty either, because not only have I not been writing my blog, I haven't been reading yours. So we're even.

But Spring is right around the corner. The days are getting longer and the giant snow drifts are melting. The parking spots are easier to see and 9 times out of 10, I park right smack in the middle of them. Things are looking up.

I'm afraid to look at my stats and see if anyone still checks in here. But like Uncle Ben told Peter Parker "With great power comes the ability to park inside the lines and then blog more often." (1) I'll try to rise to the occasion.

1) Or something. What am I, some kind of Spiderman expert?

Diary of a Turkey

2009-11-19T07:57:00.012-05:00

I found this essay on the computer, and knew I had to use it as a guest blog (1). I'm pretty sure it's a school writing assignment, although it wouldn't be the first time we've had a poultry-related hacking incident. The footnotes are mine, as is the blame for the substantial technical difficulty, but the rest is completely unedited.

Diary of a Turkey

by Jake, age 11

May 21, 2005-I was born today. My parents named me Big Bird, for I am the smallest of the birds. They are sarcastic.(2) I am also light gray, and very strong. I didn’t fit in. I didn’t… I’m really sensitive about it, just don’t talk about it. (3) Nobody thought that that was a problem, except the wise old owl down the street….

Nov 22, 2005-Thanksgiving is coming fast, in a few days. A few of my friends are disappearing, and I know I’ll disap…. *faint*

Nov 22, 2005- later-I wake up. I see shining metal and smell the scent of Thanksgiving. Is Thanksgiving coming already? I think I’m going to puke!

*actually wake up*

Nov 22, 2005- a lot later-now I see I’m in a slaughterhouse, and I see a lot of turkeys, stressed out, inside plastic pens. I know that I can escape; I have an IQ in the 20’s! I see a door, and light shining out of it! I run and OWWWWWWWWW!

I think it’s an electric door. Well, no fried turkey for them! I lined up numerous pieces of hay, and push them towards the door. They burn up, and along with them goes the pen. I run, and run and fly! My joy is short lived, though. An animal control man comes and puts me in a cage. I try to break free, but his IQ must be….. *GULP* higher than mine!

Nov 23, 2005-I wake up to a sharp pinch in my right wing. Then, I feel numb and tingly. Then a man came up and gave me more shots, and then pulled the first one out.

I snap into reality. He conducts simple tests, flashcards, etc. and I feel smarter. I see a paper with my IQ, and it says 30! WOW! I know I can escape now. I am put in a perplexing mirror maze and I run through the maze and I fly!!!!! I look back and read the sign on the building. I CAN READ!

It says: sparrow rehabilitation. They thought I was a sparrow! *sigh* I fly away into the broad sunset. YAY!

Thanksgiving day, 2005- I wake up in a cozy little den. I won’t be taken for Thanksgiving, but last minute hunters might…. Bang! I hear gunfire. I fly away and fall on my stomach. Bang! I run and fly. It’s not as exciting now. I fly towards my home.

(I can see it!) And I see that many turkeys… Bang! Another gunshot. Darn tears. Many turkeys are gone. “Mommy? Daddy? Are you there?” No reply. The only ones left are the runts, who are good for nothing. Hey is that ME? *Lower in self esteem*

Day after thanksgiving, 2005- I hold a mourning service with myself and lie down in peace. Then more animal control people with freakishly high IQ’s come and take me away. They bring me to the Vermont Federal Zoo. (4) They begin to put me in the tiger cage. (Food?!) Then they pull me out and place me in the… you ready for this…bald eagle cage! *Sigh*

Nov. 26, 2005- the rest of the story gets rather boring. I escape, get captured by a bank robber, stop a bank robbery, escape again, meet a girl, get married, and have a few children, get a job at a pastry chef’s office, become a published author. You don’t want me to tell you about it. Ok maybe you do so read it in

Diary of a Turkey II: Big Bird’s Revenge!

Coming soon to a library near you! (5)

And yes, I got permission from the author
The imagination on this kid!
:-(
Vermont Federal Zoo? Suddenly that B last quarter in Social Studies seems generous.
Watch my 11 year old land a book deal before me.

Top 10 reasons why ShallowGal isn't participating in NaMamPoBo

2009-11-16T12:55:00.000-05:00

10: I don't know what it means. Give me a minute, let me google up some excuses.
9: Aha. Cause there's no such thing. Very sneaky sis.
8: There's NaNoWriMo which involves writing a whole novel in one month. ShallowGal can't read an entire novel in a month. And SG's only word processing program is text edit (1) which is the computer equivalent of sticky notes. Although, like footnotes on a blog, the kitsch factor of writing a novel on sticky notes allows one to get away with less plot.
7: Then there's NaBloPoMo where you blog everyday for a month. November has 30 days. You do the math. (3)
6: But not only have I not been writing my blog, I haven't been reading yours either. So we're even. You're welcome.
5: This is the worst list ever. No wonder it took like 3 weeks to write. And David Letterman hasn't called.
4: Part of the blog silence is that SG is concerned that she might run out of topics. Given that her draft folder is filled with half-written essays with titles like "adventures in generic tampons" you should be concerned too.
3: Very concerned.
2: Because this came in the mail today:

Along with a note demanding $6.95 or I'll never see another recipe for Quick bologna quesadillas.

And the number 1 reason why SG isn't participating in NaMamPoBo: She went on a girls trip to Chicago; she's completely hooked on new Fall television like V, FlashForward and of course Real Housewives of the OC; these short days really take a toll on her mood ; she's taking her family to Mexico and has to clean the house for the dog-sitter.

1) SG also doesn't have any ink in her printer. It's like the shoemaker's kids going barefoot. (2)
2) Cause I'm married to a printer cartridge salesman. Get it? Although it's time to come clean, he's technically the International Vice President of Printer cartridges. But I still don't have any fucking ink, so who cares?
3) What do you mean, what math? 30 days times 1 post a day = 30 posts.

The Weather Frog and the third child

2009-10-22T07:15:00.000-04:00

ShallowGal's neglect of her third child is well documented. But the lack of birthday parties and the pink snowsuits pale in comparison to the horrors Eli has experienced this school year.

Eli has been denied the opportunity to be weather frog.

Every morning as the pre-K class arrives, they take a paper crayon with their name on it and stick it in a pocket with the "job" they want for that day. Choice jobs like line leader, table sprayer and obviously, weather frog, go first. The last children to arrive are stuck handing out cups and napkins.

Now this is an excellent lesson for real life. ShallowGal was dilly-dallying on the day we picked jobs and instead of being the caboose (1), she got stuck being an attorney.

So we all see where this is going, right? Even though ShallowGal has been up since 5:30am and has already seen the two older children off on their respective school buses, she is physically unable to get Eli to his school, two miles away, by 9:30am. Or 9:40.

The official story is that ShallowGal is boycotting weather frog
because it perpetuates the stereotype that frogs are bad dressers.

(Before you feel too sorry for Eli, you should really reserve your pity for my friend Linda's son Evan who is the third of four children. Evan rolls in sometime around 10. NOBODY passes out a napkin like Evan.)

So one day, ShallowGal decided to get her ass (and her ass) to school early so he could be weather frog. And any rumors that she tripped another 4 year old in the parking lot should be ignored (2) Eli was the first kid in the classroom and put his crayon in the "weather frog" slot.

ShallowGal celebrated her success as a mother by canceling the appointment with the child psychologist(3).

At 1:30, when ShallowGal picked Eli up, he pulled her into the classroom. "Come see the frog" he ordered.

The frog had shorts on his head and sneakers on his hands. "It's Naked Day!" Eli exclaimed happily.

And the teacher told ShallowGal that 9:30 was really just a suggestion, and to feel free to arrive at her convenience.

1) Can we please all take a minute to applaud the genius teacher who renamed "the last kid in line" to "caboose" and actually made it a job? Because I renamed "taking out the trash" to "sanitation engineer" and nobody's falling for it.
2) No, the rumors are true, let's just ignore them.
3) Yeah, right. Like SG would ever get around to making such an appointment for her third child. Case in point: His birthday was in February. (4) His well child visit is scheduled for the end of October.
4) I don't know off the top of my head, mid-February sometime.

Vanity Vednesday

2009-10-14T00:35:00.011-04:00

When I run for President, and yes, I mean when, I will have one platform and one platform only. It will polarize the entire United States in a way our founding fathers never imagined. People will look back on the health care debates, abortion, even slavery, as the days that we may have had our issues but underneath it all we were all Americans with more to unite us than divide us.

When elected President, I will ban vanity license plates.

Big promises, I know. But for right now, as a Virginia resident I am shit out of luck. Or as they say in vanity-speak:

Warning: The vanity plate tool on the DMV site is sneaky addictive

Because according to some USA Today article SIXTEEN PERCENT of the plates issued by the Virginia DMV are of the vanity variety. (1)

Until the time that prisoners have been freed from this demeaning task and reassigned to picking up trash by busy highways, I will now re-dedicate Wednesday, formerly known (occasionally) as Mostly Wordless Wednesday, to Vanity Vednesday. One seventh of the week devoted to mocking vanity license plates. This will continue until I receive a letter from the American Vanity Plate Association ordering me to cease and desist. (2) Or until I emerge victorious. Fifty-fifty, it could go either way. Well maybe 30% chance I lose interest, 35 % chance of the cease and desist and 35% chance I emerge victorious.

There is, however, a zero percent chance of you ever seeing this on my Honda

As an added bonus, most pictures will be shot with my iphone from a moving vehicle, ensuring optimum photo quality. Without further ado, because if I needed to sum up this entire post in one word, that word would be "ado," let us commence Vanity Vednesday.

I was pretty happy too when I got disbarred

1) A number so egregious that I needed to spell it out so I could bold and italize it for emphasis. 16% See how that's just not emphatic enough?
2)Except I'm pretty sure I just made them up.

Shivas I sat, and some I didn't

2009-10-12T19:29:00.011-04:00

Justin

Justin lived diagonally across the street from me. He was the oldest of three kids and had a zip line in his front yard.

Even though Justin and I were close in age, we wasn't allowed to play together very often. He had leukemia, and his parents worried about germs. Our neighborhood lacked kids, so this playmate, so close and yet so far, seemed especially tragic.

The summer after we turned eight, Justin went into remission. We built a tree house in the white pine that anchored the zip line and formed a secret club. We tried to get into the Guinness Book of World Records with the longest dandelion chain. We used the car's odometer to measure our cul-de-sac~ 1/10th of a mile (1)~ and tried to run up and down 262 times so we could say we had run a marathon. One day we decided to tie three bikes together and see if the rider in the front could pull the other two bikes. It didn't work. Justin fell off the middle bike and didn't get up. His dad came and carried him home. I never saw him again.

My mom told someone on the phone that Justin's dad, a doctor, had taken him to their country house and was giving him shots of something to keep him comfortable. I didn't even know people in Westchester needed a country house, and thought it sounded eerily similar to the time my grandmother's miniature schnauzer went to live on a farm. A few days later there was more grown-up whispering (2) so I pulled the local papers out of the recycling bin and read them all until I found the obituary.

We didn't go to the funeral or pay a Shiva call. I assumed it was because everyone blamed me.

2) Pammy Rosenblatt's mother:

Pammy was the "it" girl of our Hebrew School's 5th grade. She owned both a pair of Jordache jeans and a pair of Sassoon jeans. Her hair looked exactly like Farrah Fawcett's. She had a double canopy bed and a pool in her backyard. Her mom killed herself on my tenth birthday.

We waited until the third day to pay a Shiva call. (3) My mom brought bakery cookies. It was early spring, but it was warm and all the kids were outside playing ghost in the graveyard. Someone came running out and claimed they saw Pammy's mom in the bedroom where the coats were piled. Pammy started to cry. We left and I never got my turn to be the ghost.

3) Renee Munroe:

My mom's friend died when I was in high school. Cervical cancer. I had known her since I was six; her oldest son and I were in the same class every year from the first through twelfth grade. She used to let us sit in the way back of her Volvo station wagon when it was her turn to drive Hebrew school carpool. Without seat belts. She made jiffy pop while we played Dungeons and Dragons in her kitchen. (4) At her fortieth birthday party someone gave her black knee socks and a garter and I didn't understand the joke.

Her funeral was my first and when it was over, my parents tried to take my sister and I home instead of to the graveside. But all the cars were caravaning from the synagogue and my dad thought if we pulled out the cars behind us would get lost. I watched my mom throw three shovelfuls of dirt into the grave, while the Rabbi explained it was the greatest mitzvah you could do. Because the dead couldn't reciprocate.

We paid a shiva call every single day. On the last day, we joined the family on a walk around the block to symbolize their return to the outside world. I overheard our neighbor, a recent divorcee, ask my mom how long she thought a widower had to wait to date. I didn't understand that either, but for different reasons.

4) Harriet

Harriet was my mother-in-law's best friend for over fifty years. Little known family secret: Harriet dated my father-in-law first, but dumped him when he failed to light her cigarettes. She never got married or had children of her own, so her fridge was covered with pictures of mine. Her funeral was on an ridiculously miserable day; the kind you'd write into a script if you made a movie about a funeral. Noa brought a heart shaped helium balloon to leave at the grave site and we tied it to the back of a folding chair but the wind kept making it smack people in the head so we let it go.

Afterward we went back to Harriet's nephew's house. Most of the people there were men from the synagogue who had come to ensure there was a minyan. Most of them had never met Harriet. I helped Harriet's niece rip the labels off the packages so they wouldn't see the cookies weren't Kosher.

Those are the three shivas I sat, and the one I didn't.

1) And it did not occur to me until this very second that car odometers generally measure any short distance as a 1/10th of a mile.
2) Unlike me, who drags my kids to every deathbed and funeral I can find, my mother tried to shield me from these things. I suspect there's a happy medium. Freud would have a field day.
3) That's when casual acquaintances go, the third day. That way you only have to go once. The first and fourth day are for the closest of friends and then the second and fifth day are for semi-close friends. Hey, I don't make these rules.
4) Shut. Up. I never claimed I was cool in high school.

This post was inspired by This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper. I received my copy for free as part of the Silicon Valley Mom Book Club. All the stories are true, although names were changed, for really no good reason.

Turkey in the Straw

2009-10-09T15:37:00.007-04:00

Turkey in the Straw
Straw straw straw
Turkey in the hay
hay hay hay
And the old folks dance with the mother-in-law
When they dance to the tune they call turkey in the straw.

Apparently these aren't the lyrics. Not even close. They're like "There's a Bathroom on the Right" wrong. But it's what the kids are singing these days around Casa de ShallowGal. (1)

After about a million rounds of this, Eli asked what a mother-in-law was. And I explained it, but apparently not very well because the next day we had the following conversation:

Eli: I got married to Carley today.
SG: I thought you got married to Tessa yesterday.
Eli: I did. I married them both.
SG: Do you need 2 wives?
Eli: No, I need two mother-in-laws.

Can you even imagine? TWO Mother-in-laws? Lord have mercy, I can barely manage the one I have.

ShallowGal stopped posting about her family when she discovered that they (2) read her blog. But this conversation with Millie assures me that she's still fair game.

Millie: Can you help me open the email on my new Mac?
SG: Sure. What program did PCSguy install?
Millie: AOL, same as before. I see my email, I just can't open it.
SG: Put the mouse over it.
Millie: I did, but there's no button on the mouse.
SG: So use the return key instead.
Millie: This computer doesn't have a return key.
SG: Really? What's on the right hand side where the return key should be?
Millie: The enter key.

The Millie stories could go on and on. Like the time that she spent the night and mentioned how nice it was to be out of the house because the smoke detector battery ran out and it had been chirping every minute for, oh, the past week or so? Maybe someone could fix it the next time they come over?

Or the time I took her to the Senior Living complex we've been looking at (3) and the shuttle driver winked at me and told me I was too young to move there, and Millie thought he said it to her, so now, no Senior Living Apartment for her.

As her daughter-in-law I apparently have nothing to offer but useless computer counsel. All good life advice comes from geriatric shuttle bus drivers.

1) Be forewarned: it's a catchy tune.
2) very occasionally. My erratic posting schedule confuses them.
3) Where for NO ADDITIONAL CHARGE they will change your smoke detector battery for you.

ShallowGal demonstates her mastery of both screenshots and the oval annotation tool

2009-09-30T16:31:00.009-04:00

Luckily, SG has decided to use these new powers for good rather than evil.

Sorry, AmVets doesn't want your liver. Try Goodwill.

Because nothing says atonement like a good Agatha Christie paperback.

Do One Nice Thing

2009-09-27T16:04:00.000-04:00

Hopefully ShallowGal isn't disclosing any industry secrets when she explains that for the Silicon Valley Mom's Book Club, instead of actual reviews, we write posts inspired by the book. So when ShallowGal tried to figure out the angle to take for this month's SV mom's book club, Do One Nice Thing, the obvious choice was to either talk about all the nice things she does or the nice things others do for her. (1)

Gratuitous shot of the cheerful cover to distract you from
the sad story that's SG is about to tell.

Then SG panicked.

Because last year SG was called out by an ex-friend on her blog (1.5). The accusation: ShallowGal does do good things but tells anyone who will listen about them. Which lessens the good deed. The consensus in the comment sections was that conservatives do more good deeds than liberals but talk about them less. Their reward is in Heaven. (2)

For the record, it was a bullshit assertion. Ask anyone who knows her well, ShallowGal cannot stand to be the center of attention. True story: when SG was 8 she owned a tee shirt that had a recipe for caramel corn on the front. (3) People would stop SG and ask if they could copy her shirt. Thirty-two years later, SG still can't eat caramel corn without having a panic attack.

Here's why SG talks (and blogs) about her primary good deed, being a volunteer emergency foster family. To encourage others to consider trying it.(4, 4.5) She figures people look at her messy, cluttered 1900 square foot home and the outgrown blond highlights and they say, yikes, if she can do it, certainly *I* can.

And you can. Here's what you need to be a foster parent. Love. Patience. Maybe a pack and play in the attic. (5)

It's a more work than sending pencils to a needy school, but the reward is exponentially good. But in the meantime, send some pencils. A little karma never hurt anyone.

1) Most recently: a trainer at the gym gave Jake 2 tickets to today's Capitols- Rangers game.
1.5) A conservative politics manifesto where SG was occasionally referred to as a "libtard. " Which I think we can agree falls firmly in the "not nice" category.
2) ShallowGal will take her reward in dark chocolate kit kats.
3) I don't know why either. The 70's are a fashion mystery.
4) And the Karma. You write a blog like this, you take all the karma you can get.
4.5) And maybe just a teeny bit because she doesn't want people to think she was cheating on PCSguy.
5) And Social services can usually provide one in a pinch.

Another PSA from my 4 year old

2009-09-16T15:51:00.002-04:00

Halloween is now 44 days away.
You should be on at least your third costume.

The ShallowGal / America's Test Kitchen Project

2009-09-10T08:57:00.011-04:00

Always a sucker for a cooking magazine with a glossy cover, SG bought this magazine at Costco:

Who are we kidding?
SG is a sucker for anything featuring a chocolate cake.

Now this publication is a compilation of two magazines that ShallowGal already subscribes to, as well as several cookbooks that SG already owns. Obviously what is needed now is a way to justify the $6.67 she just spent.

Then ShallowGal had a brilliant, totally original idea: ShallowGal will cook everything in this magazine and then blog about it. The internet has never seen anything like this and will go wild.

Huh. Are you sure?

To be fair, everything SG knows about Julie and Julia comes from VUBOQs review and some commercials she fast forwarded through. And since SG has already started the movie casting (1), the project is greenlighted. Greenlit? Given the green light.

Day 1: Tacos. ShallowGal made the tacos on page 23 of the magazine. They were good.(2)

Day 2: ShallowGal forgets to bring the magazine to the supermarket, but notices a great sale on porterhouse steaks. What best-of cooking magazine wouldn't feature a recipe for those? Answer: This one. SG rubs some salt and pepper on them and throws them on the grill for 5 minutes on each side. Serves with corn on the cob and pasta salad made from a box. Yummy. But not from the magazine, so totally irrelevant.

Day 3: ShallowGal serves leftover steak while PCSguy makes his standard "I'll have a steak sandwich and a steak sandwich" joke.

Day 4: All this cooking is exhausting. SG orders the posse a pizza.

Day 5: ShallowGal wonders if Kraft would send her another copy of their magazine. The first copy kind of got all cut-up. The ShallowGal / Kraft project has a better ring to it anyway.

And who wouldn't pay big bucks to see Meryl Streep make quick bologna quesadillas?

1) Bob Saget will play PCSguy. That guy has range.
2) I think we can agree that ShallowGal is killing this project so far.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: When the PCSguy is away

2009-09-02T20:44:00.003-04:00

SG turns his side of the bed into her office.

Assuming one had a career where they needed insurance paperwork,
the toddler's laundry, a paperback, a nasty, misspelled note from the 8 year old,
a bag of cotton balls and a ukulele.

And on the seventh day ShallowGal realized why on vacation her 4 year old kept asking her if a shark would eat him

2009-09-01T20:24:00.004-04:00

Alternate title: SG pimps out her 4 year old to avoid writing about the very sad feelings she has today, in no particular order: about her child (1) with a host of attentional and behavioral issues and now suffering from nasty side effects from psychotropic drugs, SG's first foray into the exciting world of IEPs, and her friend whose husband is leaving for Iraq on her birthday. (2,3)

But that title was a grammatical nightmare, even if SG did spell psychotropic correctly on her first try.

Ah, camp songs.

1) Who has requested, and shall receive, anonymity.
2) The friend's birthday, not SG's birthday. Not that it really matters when your husband is leaving for Iraq.
3) When SG texted PCSguy this news, PCSguy asked, and I quote, "Why?"

Sex habits of the African Dwarf Frog

2009-08-26T22:08:00.004-04:00

It's important to preface this, SG's first Vlog (1), by explaining that just prior to filming, SG and PCSguy went out for an expensive French dinner. Escargot, lamb chops, grand mariner souffle and a nice bottle of red, the whole 9 yards. (2)

And while PCSguy waited upstairs, SG spent 45 minutes trying to figure out the best way to light her frog pornography.

Because when SG went to the frog store, she was assured that she was buying 2 boy frogs to prevent having to raise a lot of bastard amphibians. SG is a trusting soul, especially when it means she doesn't need to go double checking her frogs' junk.

You may want to take a Dramamine before viewing.

Finally PCSguy googled "Sex habits of the African Dwarf Frog" and learned a new word called "Pseudocopulation" which means "Remind me to go back to that pet store in the morning and thank them profusely for helping teach my 4 year old about the birds and the bees (3)."

1) I don't care what wikipedia says, there is no way that is right. Unless the Russian invented video blogging.
2) OK, that one has to be wrong too. It takes 10 yards for a first down, unless it's sarcasm like "Nice job getting it all the way to the 9 yard line."
3) Henceforth, called 'the frogs and the frogs'. Because seriously, you have never seen a bird or a bee go at it like this.

nb: The Stimey reference in the video is to this post about cat arms.

Ironically SG has a draft folder filled with catchy titles and now cannot think of a single one.

2009-08-25T14:25:00.001-04:00

When ShallowGal is asked about her blog and she's too tired to go into the whole "best Canadian blogger" spiel she usually says something along the lines of "It's a nice blog. Kind spirited. Never says anything mean about anyone. " And she's serious; SG lives by the credo that it's easier to say nothing than to say something nasty.

Except about those fuckers over at Kraft. (1) Because I have to tell you, their magazine drives me fucking ape-shit.

It's not that SG's a recipe snob. I'm sure Julia Child had lots of recipes that required 2 ingredients and 1 step:

Luckily SG had preheated the oven in preparation so
now she can go stick her head in it and end this misery

And it's not the overuse of exclamation points to emphasize things that shouldn't be emphasized.

To be fair, they did not claim it was a helpful tip. (2)

It's being misled.

The day off. The whole day off? It's like some sort of magic lasagna that wipes your kid's butt for you, and mediates the fights about whether you pronounce that word tam-pon or tam-poon.
Just by layering some ragu and cottage cheese the night before?

And once I have that day off, do I really need to spend it with my children? Is Kraft now providing family counseling with those recipes? Maybe lacing the mac and cheese with a little xanax?

But other than that, SG likes to think she runs a happy little blog. You look pretty today, by the way. All unicorns and rainbow-y.

1) SG did not pay very close attention in law school. Is there a law against calling a 10 billion dollar company "fuckers" on a blog read by almost 2 dozen people? What about that FCC ruling?
2) like how to cut them AFTER serving. Now that's a helpful hint AND a cool party trick.

Mostly Wordless Whining ~ now in hi-def!

2009-08-19T17:13:00.004-04:00

Because really nothing's worse than being subjected to
expensive water sports lessons on vacation. (1)

1) Possibly SG is bitter because she's never been able to get up on water skis. And vindictive because Noa pushed her off the banana boat.

It isn't officially a vacation until SG drags the posse someplace massively obscure

2009-08-17T17:44:00.012-04:00

This should fit the bill

The original destination was the Maryland Science Center but a traffic jam left ShallowFamily short on time. SG pulled out her magical iphone and did a little quick typing. Someone reviewed the National Electronics Museum on Yelp and claimed it was even better than the Air and Space Museum. (1)

This is NOT your mother's museum.

It's more like if your crazy Aunt Sophie with all the cats had an electronics museum featuring a picture of her betamax. . .

And her gross, vague peanut butter cookie recipe.

The showpiece of the museum was this newfangled invention called (wait me check my notes) a FAX machine.(2)

PCSguy and SG spent several ~~lifetimes~~ minutes trying to send each other faxes but instead fixing paper jams and explaining to the kids that THIS is why you have to get a masters degree so you can pay someone to fix the fucking paper tray. Oh wait. We're on vacation. Someone else can unjam the fucking fax machine.

It's really the only way to start a vacation.

1) Upon closer inspection, we discovered that the review was submitted by the National Electronics Museum's mother.
2) PCSguy claims he remembers when people started using fax machines except the diorama explained that the fax machine was invented in 1843 making PCSguy is substantially older than we thought.

A PSA from my 4 year old

2009-08-10T14:11:00.005-04:00

There are only 81 more shopping days until Halloween.

And his costume already needs to be held together with scotch tape

An invitation I absolutely can refuse and other things that don't warrant a full post

2009-08-06T16:29:00.009-04:00

You know how SG is always trying to figure out what kind of blog she wants to write? It's starting to feel a lot like an excuse blog, where once a week SG logs on and tells you the pathetic justification for why she hasn't written that week.

But just you wait. SG has at last count, over a dozen almost-finished posts (1) in her draft folder, saved all for some rainy Saturday.

Or not. Take what you can get. Which today is a bunch of crap kicking around in SG's head.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This was going to be a Mostly Wordless Wednesday, but as often happens, Wednesday came and went without SG ever actually noticing it was Wednesday.

Last week SG got a picnic invitation from one of her volunteer organizations.

SG doesn't want to alarm you but

she is pretty sure that is blood all over the chicken.

Needless to say, SG is busy that day.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the category of stupidest conversation ShallowGal had all week that didn't turn into a fight but probably should have:

(SG had asked PCSguy to stop at Trader Joes on the way home from work and pick up some carne asada or beef bulgogi to throw on the grill. Instead PCSguy came home with lamb and some story about the beef being more expensive or poisoned or something.)

PCSguy: Isn't this lamb good?

SG: It is good, but honestly, I was really in the mood for carne asada.

PCSguy: You should have told me, I would have gotten that.

SG: I did tell you that.

PCSguy: No, you said "Get carne asada or bulgogi"

SG: Right. Either would have been fine.

PCSguy: But you didn't say that's what you wanted. You should have been more specific.

SG: What should I have said? (2)

PCSguy: "Get carne asada or bulgogi."

SG:

PCSguy: Do you see the difference?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The conversation that tells me I need to spend more time with my 11 year old (3)

Scene: Watching the Yankees / Red Sox game

Jake: Do the batters come in any order or do they just go up as they feel like it?

SG: It's all strategic. Usually the best players go first or second except the guy who hits fourth who you call the clean-up hitter and he's usually a really good hitter

Jake: Does the pitcher know that?

SG: Does the pitcher know what? That Alex Rodriguez is a good hitter?

Jake: Uh-huh.

SG: No, that's our little secret.

Jake: Cool.

1) SG debated telling you the topics and letting you vote in the comments which one to finish first.
2) So I know for next time, in case I get that partial lobotomy I've been eying and send PCSguy to the store again.
3) Who knows less about baseball than VUBOQ if that's even humanly possible.

According to the nice lady at the Advanced SEO seminar, short relevant titles are the way to go, and other things I learned at BlogHer09

2009-07-30T16:14:00.001-04:00

Lesson #1: Next year, SG is going to bring an interpreter to BlogHer. Because the agenda is filled with interesting, yet massively confusingly named seminars. To wit: SG was not supposed to wear her prairie skirt to Bloggers are Pioneers in a Post-“Employee” World. However Make Your Blog More Accessible meant building virtual wheelchair ramps which is exactly what SG thought it sounded like, but couldn't imagine it really was.

Lesson #2: Don't attend a session like LifeBlogging Outside the Lines: When you’re not a Geek, a Political Wonk or a MommyBlogger if you actually are a Mommy blogger. Because, dude, mommy bloggers are like the Jon Gosselins of the blogosphere. At least according to the angry garden bloggers that SG met there.

Lesson #3) Little Debbie cupcakes make fantastic fake boobs. SG discovered this totally by accident while trying to smuggle snack cakes out of the bowling alley in her bra. (1) Which leads us to . . .

Lesson #4) Swag is a hot topic and SG totally didn't know it. Hell, SG's roommate actually gave her swag bag to a homeless man on the way back from a party. And not in a holier-than-thou way, but in a I-don't-need-it-but-he does way. Yes the swag was nice. PCSguy was pretty darn happy with his new Kodak video camera and Noa's been carrying her fur bowling bag everywhere. But SG witnessed no hoarding or pushing. But then again, this year SG ran with a fairly classy crowd.

Lesson #5) Fake Jessica can't bowl.

Do I need to spell everything out for you? Fine. Marinka and SG went to BowlHer with the phenomenal Jessica Bern who ditched us within seconds of entering the bowling alley. Ever the optimist, SG still entered her name on the automatic scorer. Short a bowler, SG introduced herself to a woman named Bing who was helpfully wearing a tee shirt that said Bing.com. At least SG thought that was what she said her name was, but possibly the shirt confused her. (2) Since Bing.com is actually Microsoft's new search engine.

Because SG wasn't 100% positive that Bing's name really was Bing, she avoided any uncomfortable situations by just calling her Fake Jessica. Way less awkward. (3)

Lesson #4) Roughly one out of every three bloggers is named Amy. (4) As a sub-lesson, if you turn around every time someone calls out the name Amy, you will be late for lunch. And look a teeny bit like a loser when you turn around and go to hug someone who is looking over your shoulder.

Lesson #5) If you wait a week to post your BlogHer recap, someone else will steal your idea and you will have no way to prove you thought of it first.

1) Storing things in her bra in definitely one of SG's more endearing habits.
2) Like when you look at something like this: RED. Also, FYI, according to the accessible blog lady, this footnote is a no-no as it makes no sense to my blind readers.
3) Except for Fake Jessica who bowled, I kid you not, a 9.
4) If this were America's Next Top Model, Tyra would make us all change our names. SG would be Delores because there aren't enough top models named Delores.

Things that Freak ShallowGal out at 34,000 feet on her way to BlogHer 09

2009-07-23T15:25:00.004-04:00

Remember when SG's biggest problem was fear of accidentally killing Jenny the Bloggess in a bizarre elevator accident? Ah, 2008. The good old days. Now SG has REAL issues.

1. The only network SG's laptop can find is called "USAirway Free WiFi." SG is flying on American. See the problem? How can SG be expected to concentrate while watching out the window to make sure we don't hit another plane?

2. Arriving at BlogHer '08 without an elevator pitch was cute, in a pathetic kind of way. A full year later and still not even sure if I'm Canadian? Way less cute.

3. SG's roommate this year is the mega-adorable Kelcey. Her husband won an Emmy. (1) Last year's roommate Lolita Travelsalot, like SG, still needs an afternoon nap. Kelcey's napping habits are as of yet unknown. Nothing scares SG more than the unknown. Except for USAir jets at 34,000 feet. And clowns.

4. While In Chicago, SG will see two of her best friends from college. Which was twenty two years ago. Now SG feels too old to go to a blogging convention.

5. Before even landing in Chicago, SG has compiled a lengthy list of forgotten items: reading glasses (2), xanax, earrings, and her fancy pink leather business card case. And xanax. Did I mention the xanax?

1) SG meant to tweet that with the hashtag #LameClaimsToFame.
2) Again, making SG too old to go to BlogHer

What Happened to the Girl I Married? (1)

2009-07-16T20:03:00.011-04:00

True Story: When ShallowGal couldn't figure out an angle for her DC Metro Mom book club report and typed "What Happened to ", Google suggested that maybe the question I wanted to ask was "What happened to Seal's Face?"

An interesting question (2) but not the one I need answered. (3)

The author's wife designed this cover, a fact he doesn't mention in any of his 130 pages.

But maybe it should be. I guarantee that Seal never wonders what happened to the girl he married because even after 3 7/9 babies, that woman still has it going on.

PCSguy better not wonder it either. It's a totally bullshit question. It's been sixteen years, for heaven sakes, years filled with babies and sick parents and career changes. How on Earth could I possibly be the same person? Why would I even want to be?

A few years ago I added a line item to our budget: babysitting. PCSguy travels extensively and I was tired of missing book clubs and girls nights. I hate embezzling from my kids college funds but it sure as hell beat the other option of sitting home and whining about it.

I guess I just don't get women who sit home and wait for their husband's validation. Scratch that, I don't KNOW any women like that. Thank goodness. My friends and I may be busy and stressed and exhausted but we need a week in Tortola, not a few kind words at the end of the day.

And maybe someone to unload the dishwasher.

I guarantee that Heidi Klum isn't emptying the dishwasher in her house. That's why Seal is so sexy, lupus scarred face and all.

1) I always start humming that Katy Perry song, although last summer we changed the words to "I kissed a squirrel and I liked it" after our friend Ian hit a squirrel with his bike and ended up in the hospital for a month. We also sent him a stuffed squirrel. We're good friends like that.
2) According to Wikipedia, it's Lupus.
3) The questions I need answered today are 1) Does anyone still read this blog, cause after months of neglect I'm afraid to go check my stats 2) Where's my hairbrush and 3) will you pick a frickin personal tense for goodness sakes. I, She, SG. . . how many people write this blog? Or don't write this blog, would be more accurate.

The apparent ire in this run-on disaster of a post was inspired (4) by the book What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller. Disclosure: SG received a free copy of this book.

4) SG puts the IRE in inspIREd in case you missed it the first time.

Turducken - gate 2009

2009-07-10T00:37:00.002-04:00

When ShallowGal started blogging, she spent many, many hours deciding what kind of blog she wanted to write. Finally she settled on writing a Canadian blog.

But then SG decided she didn't want to be pigeon-holed. (1) Which is why this particular post has lingered in the draft folder for several weeks. (1.5)

Because nobody likes a cooking-failure blog. But everybody wants to read about turduckens. It's the classic Catch-22 scenerio, just like Joseph Heller alluded to.

Without further ado: ShallowGal's turducken's debacle time line.

This picture borrowed from affordableturducken.com
because the only thing crazier than a chicken stuffed in a duck stuffed in a turkey
is overpaying for it. (2)

1 week prior: See half-price turducken while perusing clearance meat department. Decide to fulfill PCSguy's second greatest poultry-related fantasy.

3 days prior: Move bird from freezer to fridge to begin what box claims will be a 36 hour thaw. ♫ A 36 hour thaw. ♫ (3)

Noon, the big day: Turducken still mostly frozen. Against better judgment and actual health department training, move turducken to kitchen counter.

3:00PM: Place turducken, covered in recycled foil (3.5), in 325 degree preheated oven for its three hour tour. (4)

5:00 PM: Check turducken's temperature. 120 degrees. Boost oven to 350.

5:15 PM: Answer endless questions from 4 year old about whether the chicken swallowed the duck before or after it got eaten by the turkey. Listen to 11 year old laugh uncontrollably at the idea that the chicken was probably stuffed up the turkey's butt.

6:00 PM: Take turducken's temperature. 135 degrees. Boost temperature to 400 degrees and stick a tray of frozen appetizers in as well.

6:20 PM: Feed posse bacon-wrapped filet on teeny toothpicks. Discuss possibility of ordering pizza.

7:00 PM: Scream at PCSguy that this is clearly his fault for coveting such a freak of nature.

It looks more like a chicken and a duck inside a turkey together
while I was led to believe the duck was inside the chicken
or possibly vice versa. At this point, we don't know.

7:30 PM: Decide to serve the posse the outermost pieces. Serve PCSguy a piece that looks like the duck's kidney. Save the rest to make turducken curry the next day. (5)

7:31: The posse announces that it tastes like turkey loaf. Nobody asks for seconds, although everyone does ask if SG plans to blog about this. ShallowGal bites back the words "I told you so" because rather than tasting sweet, it tastes kind of poultry-ish.

1) And there's the slight issue of not being Canadian. Unless I'm in the running for best Canadian blog, and then let's throw another shrimp on the barbie.
1.5) Since May 26th to be exact.
2) That's not their official tag line, but they are welcome to it. I foresee no further use for it here.
3) To the tune of the Gilligan's Island Theme song, in case you're Canadian, like me, since we just watched DeGrassi and ice hockey.
3.5) I may poison my family, but I'm saving the planet, dammit!
4) I really wish I had saved that joke, it's better here.
5) Do I even need to tell you that never happened?

An Accounting of ShallowGal's Summer

2009-07-09T10:39:00.006-04:00

Miles driven, without ever leaving Fairfax county: 490
Times driven past the gym while wearing workout gear (1) : 42
Times SG has entered the gym: 0

Amount spent on emotional / behavioral testing for child who shall remain nameless: $2500
Number of recent tantrums from that child: 0
Number of recent tantrums from other 2 children: 11

Cases of swine flu: 2
Hours spent in ER: 5

Number of swim meets attended: eleventy billion
Number of points Noa has scored this summer for her team: 12 1/2
Number of points Noa scored total her past 3 years on the team: 2 1/2
On a scale from 1-10, Jake's jealousy at his sister's success: 5

Summer workbooks purchased: 4
Summer workbooks opened: 0

Number of ideas SG has had for a blog post: 28
Number of times SG sat down to blog and instead researched Costa Rican surf schools: 28

1) Conveniently located next to Eli's camp and the skating rink.

What happens when 4 year olds are unsupervised on You Tube

2009-06-26T16:40:00.010-04:00

Apparently Jake left the computer browser on You Tube. (1) Eli was following the directions from the nice man on the Disney Channel who told him to go to Disney channel and type in key word Oso. And now he sings this ALL. FUCKING. DAY. LONG.

He's covered in pop tarts, paint and band-aid. He's so gross that even he can't stand it (2)

Eventually ShallowGal remembered some 7th grade Spanish and solved the mystery. (3)

Considering the other words Eli knows how to spell,
I'd say we really dodged a bullet.
Although after a few hundred viewings of this, a little porn doesn't seem so bad.

Next, SG should get Eli to fix the html code because she can't figure out how to un- italics stuff and fix the formatting.

1)Yes, I know.
2) At the end of his video he says "I'm going to go run my bath."
3) Oso must be Spanish for Gummy Bear.

Get your ShallowGal fix here

2009-06-22T08:34:00.002-04:00

Dear Reader:

Yes, ShallowGal's been MIA lately. It's been a giant clusterfuck of stomach flu and burst pipes around here.(1) And lethargy. Lots of lethargy.

But SG did manage to squeak out something over at DC Metro Moms. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but if you feel it in your heart, please head over there and give me some lovin'. Muchas Gracias.

And there are about a dozen posts stacked in my draft file, all with exciting titles like "my garden" and "this is not my mother's gourmet club" so don't give up on me quite yet.

xo, SG

1) Why do those 2 things always occur simultaneously in this house?

Why my book club is better than your book club (1)

2009-06-10T19:48:00.002-04:00

Don't get all up in my grill, it's well past 5 o'clock (2)

2) We're not all caught up in the old-fashioned idea that we actually have to read a book. Don't get me wrong; we all read plenty of books, just not the same one at the same time. That way we can pass around one copy. Saving trees and being fiscally responsible.

3) Really there isn't a number 3 (3) but having the same numbers repeated on the list and footnotes was kind of confusing. (4)

1) Cause he eats kennel rations.
2) In Paris.
3) Cause I don't want you to feel bad about your inferior book club.
4) No footnote either but we could be here all night otherwise trying to conquer my OCD.

Mostly Wordless Weekend. A Public Service Announcement: PCSguy-Style

2009-06-06T20:24:00.011-04:00

Do not pick a fight with your wife while you are on the roof cleaning the gutters.

Because the ladder is light and the ShallowGal, vindictive.

The posse is generally on ShallowGal's side.
Especially when she offers ice cream with the after-dinner show.

Even if they could be bribed from the roof,
the posse's ideas are derived from cartoons and generally impractical.

And for some reason, nobody seems to be out walking their dog tonight.

Note: No PCSguys were harmed in the making of this PSA. Yet.

Just when you thought that ShallowGal had taken the 3 bottles of Pantene and left the country

2009-06-04T07:55:00.006-04:00

But really SG was just overwhelmed with the concept of writing eleven different names on little pieces of paper, finding a hat, rounding up the posse, explaining the concept of just picking one name, taking the paper out of the hat, writing posse's names on little pieces of paper and picking those to determine who gets to pick their little piece of paper first.

You'd consider taking the conditioner and leaving the country too.

But after a week of paralyzing anxiety, SG simply decided to go the random number generator route.

Even the internet is fucking with me this morning

According to the time stamp, it took seven full minutes
for SG to figure out how to handle this mini-catastrophe.

Marathon Mom, Inna and Julie ~ congratulations! Please email me your address.

Where SG's been the past week since clearly she hasn't been here

2009-05-27T07:30:00.002-04:00

1. Trying to break her high score of 91 on scramble, despite not knowing such obvious words as caiques, ngwee, voudouns, dunt, and guiro. (1)

2. Dealing with undisclosed medical problems of a child who will not be identified. (2)

3. Writing a post entitled "Why Bravo needs to cast ShallowGal in The Real Housewives of Northern Virginia." Except then it turns out that they really are casting this. And Jessica A Piss has already written this exact post. (3)

4. Caring for a 10 month old foster baby, planting the garden and debating (endlessly) with PCSGuy and the posse about getting a dog.

5. But mostly playing scramble.

1) Caique: Turkish rowboat: a long narrow rowboat used in the waters around Turkey.
ngwee: subunit of Zambian currency: a subunit of Zambian currency.
We didn't find a match on " voudouns" but we found the following alternate spellings for you.
Dunt: injury from blow: the injury or damage caused by a hit or a blow
Guiro: gourd scraped to make music: a musical instrument of Central and South America, made from a gourd with grooves cut so that a rasping sound is created when a stick is scraped across it.
2) It's not as dire as it sounds, it's just one of those embarrassing issues that said child would never forgive me for writing about.
3) But she also got Lolita Travelsalot and I (and our 4 year olds) advanced screening passes for UP so no hard feelings.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: The "she totally deserved the Gold " (1) edition

2009-05-20T14:43:00.005-04:00

Just add it to the list of things my kids can do that I can't. (2)

1) She did get a gold in Interpretative skating, 8 years old, Freestyle 1. In this event she got the silver. Jake won the gold in his event. Which if we were a country, would put us just ahead of Portugal.
2) Already on the list: downloading music to my ipod, a legal 25 meter butterfly and anything to do with the HD setting on the new tv.

It's ironic that SG can't think of a title for this post because lately, SG can think of lots of titles but no posts.

2009-05-18T08:15:00.001-04:00

It's the world's oldest story. Girl meets girl. Girl loses girl. Girl finds girl. Second girl tells first girl about the world's most awesome conditioner that she'd never find on her own because it's actually marketed to women of color. You've heard it a million times, if you've heard it once. (1)

See when Jake was two, we belonged to this playgroup. (2) Not the playgroup that lead to her yearly bay weekend, but the playgroup that sprang from her La Leche League meeting and led to her book club. (3) (Like most mothers, SG uses her kids as a magnet to make new friends.)

Once day, my friend Paula brought her friend Ellen to the playgroup. Ellen was the mother of twin girls and a quiet talker.

Ellen only came to one playgroup, but I ran into her all the time, mostly at Target. And every time say "Hi Ellen" and she'd look at me funny. "I'm Paula's friend" I'd explain. And Ellen would smile politely . Then I'd call Paula and say "I just ran into your friend Ellen" and she'd whisper "the quiet talker?" and I'd whisper back "want to wear my ruffled shirt?" and we'd both laugh. Paula is a very patient friend.

In 2004, SG stopped going to Target. (4) and thus didn't see Ellen for four years. Then last year, SG ran into Ellen at the ice rink, and OMG, she looked fabulous. Everything. Her hair. Her make-up. Her clothes. Her hair. Especially her hair.

I asked her what her secret was. "Pantene," she said quietly. "The relaxed & natural conditioner, for Women of Color."

And the rest is history.

A million times, you've heard this story. But here's your reward for listening to it again:

ShallowGal has three bottles of Pantene to give away.

And SG has some scoop: Pantene is going to be at BlogHer 2009 . And celebrity hair stylist Hallie Bowman will be there too! You've seen her magic on stars like Keri Russell, Emmy Rossum, Isla Fisher, Liv Tyler and Lucy Liu. She'll be doing a few hair makeovers on bloggers too ~ stay tuned for details on that!

To win a bottle of conditioner ~ leave a comment on this post. It can be about anything: BlogHer, Pantene, hair, ruffled shirts, anything. SG will then employ the old school method of writing everyone's name on a tiny piece if paper and having each kid pick one. (5) Contest ends May 22nd, 2009 at midnight.

1) But I'll only tell you once. Today. (Meaning I'll tell you once today and then possibly again tomorrow. Not I'll only tell you once and that time will be today. Punctuation matters (6), kids! Stay in school!
2) It's entirely possible all ShallowGal's stories start circa 1999.
3) It is SO a book club. We've read over 100 books. Shaheen kept a list.
4) Another story for another time.
5) That's why SG is giving away three bottles. If every kid didn't have a chance to pick a tiny piece of paper out of a tupperware container, SG would never hear the end of it.

6) A panda walks into a bar, sits down and orders a sandwich. He eats the sandwich, pulls out a gun and shoots the waiter dead.

As the panda stands up to go, the bartender shouts, "Hey! Where are you going? You just shot my waiter and you didn't pay for your sandwich!"

The panda yells back at the bartender, "Hey, I'm a PANDA! Look it up!" The bartender opens his dictionary and sees the following definition for panda:

"A tree dwelling marsupial of Asian orgin, characterized by distinct black and white coloring. Eats shoots and leaves.

ShallowGal's Cake-tastrophe

2009-05-11T20:02:00.006-04:00

Step 1: Buy cookbook at a yard sale. Find recipe for this cake.

Picture borrowed from this baker (1)

Remember that SG marked the exact same recipe in another cookbook.(2) Clearly it is a sign that SG is meant to make this cake. Decide that since ShallowGal will only turn 40 once (3) proper celebration should ensue. Piss off PCSguy and the posse by announcing plans to bake own birthday cake. (4)

Step 2: Head to the neighborhood Giant. For a teeny neighborhood supermarket, there is rarely an ingredient so obscure, I can't find it here. Until today. The culprit: Dutch processed cocoa powder.

Step 3: Visit four other supermarkets, come up empty handed. Debate canceling birthday.

According to twitter, SG has a long history of canceling holidays
for much less than a missing can of dutch processed cocoa powder

Step 4: Dutch processed cocoa is only needed for cake layers, all ingredients for the pudding layer, clearly the most important part of this cake, are available. Devise plan to use boxed cake mix. Return home to make pudding. Start talking in a fake Dutch accent. (5)

Step 5: Make pudding following cookbook's directions to cook for 2-4 minutes. Assume runny pudding will somehow miraculously jell during its four hour visit to the refrigerator. Consume birthday cocktail.

Step 6: Move on to cake portion. Discover that well-stocked pantry contains 6 boxes of cake mix: five of them carrot and one, Christmas funfetti. Borrow chocolate mix from neighbor. Bake cake with much "help" from the posse. Let cool and slice horizontally into 4 mini layers. Crumble one layer to use as topping.

Step 7: Consume lamb kabobs and a bottle of shiraz. Open fridge to inspect pudding which is still a runny mess. Learn that pudding was actually supposed to cook for 24 minutes. Make one box of instant chocolate pudding and open a can of Pillsbury chocolate frosting.

Step 8: Announce "I have the best idea!" SG's Mom asks "Is it to pour Kahlua over the crumbs? " Indeed it is. PCSguy stops, stunned at this silent melding of great minds. Pour Kahlua over the crumbled layer. Eli shrieks "Mommy is pouring wine over the cake! " Assure Eli that Kahlua crumbs will not touch the rest of the cake. Consider eating Kahlua soaked crumbs right out of the bowl, stopping only because it would be better with cool whip.

Step "For the Love of all things holy just finish the dang cake so we can get on with our lives" : Assemble the cake in the following order: Plate, mini layer of cake, 1/2 the pudding, mini layer of cake, 1/2 can of frosting. Attempt to place the last layer on top, but the middle falls out causing the cake to resemble a volcano made of artificial ingredients and sewage. Fill the hole with pudding. When children run for the camera, sprinkle with Kahlua soaked crumbs.

This looks nothing like the cookbook photo, which makes no sense
since SG followed the directions almost exactly.

Frost sides of cake. (6) Allow 4 year old to dump entire can of sprinkles on top to get him to not blab about the "wine cake" to his brother and sister. Top with a single blue candle.

Like turning 40 wasn't bad enough.

Step "I will never complain about Coldstone Creamery charging $30 for a cake again" Eat and enjoy. Ignore children who laugh at your cake and pronounce it "bad."

Step Because you know ShallowGal never knows when to just call it quits: The next morning pour runny pudding back into a saucepan over medium heat for 24 minutes. Let cool in fridge for 4 hours. Visit seven more supermarkets in search of dutch processed cocoa. Return empty handed. Placate self by eating 3 cups of perfect-layer-cake pudding with a spoon. Plunge into chocolate coma.

1) Who did a double mitzvah in a) lending me this photo and b) pointing out the error in the recipe, albeit just a tad too late.
2) Step 1 1/2: Wonder exactly how many copies of the same cookbook I own.
3) Although I have turned 29 multiple times.
4) Piss off English teachers everywhere by changing grammatical person repeatedly, often within the same sentence.
5) SG's entire knowledge of Dutch accents comes from an Austin Powers movies.
6) Side of cake? How many sides does a circle have?

It's the 4 year old version of "I slept with this girl. You don't know her. She lives in Canada."

2009-05-08T15:49:00.003-04:00

Eli & I were on our way to a DC Metro Mom event sponsored by PBS Kids. Despite the fact that Eli is the single most outgoing child on the planet, I felt the need to prep him for the childcare situation:

SG: We're going to have such a good time. You're going to get to meet your new friend Quinn.

Eli: I already have a friend named Quinn. Can we go to McDonald's instead?

You have a friend named Quinn?

Yes. He's five and lives in New York.

Eli sounds so convinced that I believe him. I run through the various cousins and other people we lump in the "friend" category for someone named Quinn and come up blank.

Really? Where did you meet him?

I mean Paris. He lives in Paris. Now can we go to McDonald's?

Here's someone you don't get to meet at McDonald's. Or Paris.

All John Hughes movies aside (1) , it was fascinating to learn how much work and thought (2) PBSkids puts into each episode. They even shared with the DC Metro Moms the results of an independent study that showed that viewing episodes of SuperWhy helped low-income children improve their early literacy skills.

And all this time, SG was pushing PBS on her kids just to avoid the crush cup commercials.

1) An earlier draft referred to Eli's many friends named Quinn in the Niagra Falls area, having a fake ID so he could vote, his low tolerance to dehydration and warned that "if he gets up, we'll all get up. It'll be anarchy." But the nice people at PBS kids deserved better than that.
2) Someone who shall remain nameless could learn from them. Fine, I mean me.

Passive-aggressive notes, ShallowGal style

2009-05-06T10:24:00.009-04:00

On our Baycation, Noa and Jake fought. A lot.

Here's the thing. Honestly, I don't care if they fight so long as they don't touch each other and I don't have to listen to it. And this fight broke rule #2.

After several warnings, I sat them down to impose my new favorite consequence for making me listen to loud children : writing each other an apology note.

Jake, being the typical first child, sat down and wrote his note:

I wish I could blame the camera, but Jake's handwriting actually is this blurry.

Translation: Dear Noa, I'm sorry I used bad manners to you and I will use better manners in the future and hope you'll forgive me and I'm very sorry I pushed you. (1) It was wrong to do and I'll use better manners. I'm also very sorry I got you into trouble too. Love, Jake.

Fine. Jake is released and goes into the next room to watch television with his friends.

Now Noa HATES to write. It's actually a little upsetting to me, since writing is one of my all-time favorite pastimes. But it does make for a good punishment for her. Maybe.

This exercise in apparent child abuse brought to you by Hyatt

Dear Jake: I'm sorry for doing nothing, Noa. PS: I did not touch you :(

Nobody will ever accuse me of being the Queen of follow-thru, but there is no way I am going to accept this. Noa points out that there is no more hotel stationary and I counter by showing her that the back of her note is blank. Back to the desk Noa heads.

The instructions were to write a full page note.

Noa took advantage of the fact that the hotel stationary was unlined.

Translation: Dear tattle tail, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Noa

This now poses a dilemma for SG: should she submit it to Passive aggressive notes.com or save it for her own blog? Noa takes advantage of SG's confusion and escapes to watch tv. The end.

1) So in writing this note Jake also admitted to breaking rule #1, but at this point, I have bigger fish to fry. Well, I guess technically a littler fish. But a little, mean fish, like those miniature sharks. Or an electric eel.

How to make your own yogurt, ShallowGal style, and other half-assed topics

2009-05-01T14:28:00.014-04:00

Over the past few months, SG has started several posts that were headed absolutely nowhere. So they sat in her draft folder for months and months. Then one day SG posted a ridiculous bunch of random thoughts about comments and got 21 comments in return (1) Turns out you guys don't expect me to have a point.

1) Last month I made yogurt in the crockpot.

Hands down the crunchiest thing I've ever done.
Crunchy in a creamy way.

I used this recipe which called for a gallon of organic milk and (wait for it) yogurt. So it's like if you were going to make a lasagna and the ingredient list called for meat and cheese and, oh yeah, a little tiny lasagna. But everyone in real life that I test drove that joke on, went off on some scientific tangent about starters.

2) Then there was the time that SG decided to solve the Craigs List killer mystery.(2)

This post was thwarted by SG's inability to post a decent screen shot.

Basically SG was trolling Craigs List and found this guy who was willing to barter his income tax expertise for a massage. On April 16th. Busted. But then it wasn't him. I tried.

3) Today is PCSGuy's birthday. But we celebrated that last year, and we have to be careful not to set a precedent here.

4) I think it's only fair to warn you guys that SG is on a diet. The South Beach Diet. The diet where SG can't eat cookies. And she simultaneously gave up diet coke. Because SG is not going to be Forty AND Fat. It's one or the other, and I can't change my birth certificate. Trust me, I've tried.

1) Although PCSGuy claims I was basically begging for comments there. Pity comments, he may have called them.
2) What's the most important part of telling a joke?TIMING. That joke isn't too funny in print but in real life, it's hilarious. And before you accuse me of misnumbering footnotes, the point was that blogging about the Craig's List killer now is akin to blogging about the 2007 Miss Universe Pageant.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: When 4 year olds pack their own lunchbox

2009-04-29T19:59:00.003-04:00

I know the Brita filter seems like an odd choice,
but it fits the school's criteria of being kosher, dairy and nut-free.

No comment

2009-04-24T15:46:00.004-04:00

Here's what I have: A blog that I haven't updated in 4 days, some random thoughts about comments, children interrupting me every 39 seconds for ice cream, and a title. (1)

Here's what I don't have: A point. (2)

We'll make do.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was comment of the day on Jenny's blog? I haven't commented there since because I can't stand the thought of not being COTD. The pressure is too great.

One time Marinka tweeted about a comment I left on her blog. Multi-media!

Kristin once responded to a comment of mine with: "Amy, I don't even care what I write any more. I just pound out any old thing that comes into my head, just HOPING that you'll leave a comment because you're comments are so freaking *funny* : )" Is that bragging?

Someone once left me a comment that said something like "thanks for leaving a comment on my blog." That's when I realized that comments beget comments. However, I'm pretty sure that person never came back. So I don't know what the lesson is.

I base my self worth on the number of comments each entry got. The one about my kids skating got five. That makes me feel like a semi-productive member of society. Ten comments makes me look thinner.

You know what irritates me? When you read someone's blog and they have like 2000 comments. I mean, doesn't person 1997 realize that ~~Dooce~~ that person is never going to read their comment and it's just going to hang there in cyberspace forever? Where as I print out and frame all of my comments?

I've left several comments on other people's blogs recently, that I thought were pretty clever. I even thought about expanding on the idea to make a post of my own. Instead I tracked them down and cut and pasted them here. Which took like 3 times longer than writing an actual post.

In response to a post about how someone said the Craigs List killer "wouldn't hurt a fly" and how people who claim that are usually bonkers, I had this to say:

OK that reminds me of a story. Last year, I was letting Eli smash gypsy caterpillars outside the preschool and another little boy started to do it too. His mother told him to stop, because, and I quote (hence the quotation marks) "We don't do that in our family.

Then she smiled all condescendingly and said "No offense, we're just tree huggers" and I said "Well since gypsy caterpillars KILL the trees, maybe you should squoosh them."

Then I might have said "In your face" or possibly "Geech." Anyway, she moved away the following month, and I like to think it's mostly because of me.

In response to a proposal to start an online book club reading Ulysess:

Before I commit I have a few questions:

1) James Joyce's version? Cause it's really long.

2) It only got 4 stars on Amazon. Nauti Intentions got 5 stars. Shouldn't we read that since it's clearly a superior work of fiction?

1) The title is supposed to be a play on words but it really makes no sense whatsoever because, clearly, I comment.
2) Or a book deal. WTF?

The true cost of raising a non champion.

2009-04-20T07:47:00.010-04:00

A recent article (1) declared that it costs $269,520 to raise a child from birth to age 17. My first thought?

Clearly they aren't raising a figure skater.

I have two. Potentially three.

(Before we go any further, I would like to address my husband: PCSguy, I love you. Look at the size of that cat! Is he gone? Good.)

(I was taught that it's gauche to talk about money. So let's not talk money. Let's talk opportunity costs. And I'm not even sweating the details like the de rigeur figure skater magnet for my car or the coffee needed to chauffeur kids to the rink twice a week before school.)

Every year each child needs new skates. We're not talking those $30 plastic jobs with velcro closures you see at Dicks. We're talking an Italian Mosaic 60-inch Round Dining Room table from Arhaus (on sale).

The kids share three half hour private lessons every week at a yearly cost of a one week villa rental in Tortola. That's just the lesson, the ice time sets me back a bottle of Penfolds Koonunga Hill Shiraz-Cabernet 2006. Each. That's a bottle of wine every night (except Sunday, because c'mon) with dinner.

Two weeks of skating camp = a Tory Burch weekend bag.

Then there's off-ice strength training, competition fees, special skating tights, dresses, pants. . .

So what does this get me? Last month the World's Ice Skating Championships was on television. If you squinted really really hard, you still didn't see my kids. Unless you were looking in my family room window, and then I don't want to know. (1.5) And the winter Olympics in Vancouver in 2010? We saw them building the stadium last summer. And that's the closest we'll get to that.

I'm fully aware that I'm not raising champions on ice. Is their happiness worth a 2009 BMW x5? (2)

Take Jake. Jake used to walk into walls. Jake fell UP the stairs on a regular basis. Now look at him.

Noa didn't walk until she was almost two. Check her out now.

They're happy. They're strong. They're confident.

They are champions to me.

Anyway, if we didn't skate where would I go in my a BMW x5? And what tacky silver magnets would I decorate it with? (3)

1) "A recent article" is the second lamest way to start any piece of writing, following "The dictionary defines. . . " And yet, here we are.
1.5) This is where I remind you that we have a really big dog.
2) Gauche math is hard. Kids enjoyment of skating = 2009 BMW X5 - 2004 Honda Pilot with 60,000 miles.
3) Ending with a preposition is pretty major offense as well.

The one where SG sends you someplace else, again

2009-04-18T19:44:00.002-04:00

ShallowGal's over at DC Metro Moms today. In the dead-zone Saturday spot. (1) Come show me some love.

1) Lesson learned. No more calling the pacifier fairy a bitch.

There are no words Wednesday

2009-04-15T13:05:00.003-04:00

I don't know if it's the weather, or lingering sadness about Maddie, Thalon and Hannah or hormones or the fact it's tax day, but pretty much everyone I know could use a pick-me-up. I dare you to watch this and not feel better.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Her entire performance is here on YouTube (but embedding has been disabled)

How to Plan a Baycation, SG style (Now with music!)

2009-04-14T14:53:00.011-04:00

Baycation
all I ever wanted

Baycation
had to get away

Baycation
meant to be spent alone (1)

Step 1) Plan multiple trips to Costa Rica for Spring Break, but ultimately back out because you don't want to leave grandma. Complain endlessly, to anyone who will listen, about lack of exciting plans.

Step 2) Real life friend, Lolita Travelsalot points out ad in Washington Post for the Hyatt Regency Chesapeake Bay Golf Resort, Spa & Marina. Decide to take combined six children for one night.

Step 3) Pack. Total baggage for a one night trip: six bathing suits and changes of underwear, 5 ipods, 4 Nintendo DS and a cooler full of beer and cheese sticks.

Step 3.5: Load up the car and plug in children

Step 4) Warn children to use potty before leaving house. This car will not stop for the next 101 miles.

Unless the moms get a hankering for an Egg McMuffin & coffee

Step 5) Arrive and enjoy everything the Hyatt has to offer: indoor pool, water slide, moon bounces, chair massages, face painting, exploring the marsh, watching the cooking demonstrations, making s'mores in the fire pit, playing with the giant chess set and the ever popular elevator button pushing. Wear children out.

PCSguy was curious if I turned him back around after taking the picture
Let's just go ahead and say "yes."

Step 6) Return home. Coin phrase 'baycation'. Plan to retire early on royalties.

Bottom Line: Hyatt Regency Chesapeake Bay Golf Resort, Spa & Marina~ sixteen thumbs up!

1) You do not even want to know how long it took SG to come up with that song. Hey Hyatt people, feel free to use it! Thanks for the fruit basket!

ShallowGal's Midlife Blogging Crisis

2009-04-12T15:23:00.005-04:00

I had this new feature planned for Friday, entitled Freaky Friday Fortune, where I was going to feature a bizarre fortune found in a fortune cookie. (1) (2)

Obviously this feature was inspired the following fortune:

A carrot a day, may help keep cancer away

When Jake opened his cookie and read his message, my first thought was "when did the carrot lobby get so influential?" and my second was "I should blog about this."

And then Jake said "Are you going to blog about this?" and I realized I was becoming predictable. And then I lost the fortune and was completely paralyzed; nothing else could be written until I posted this. So now I'm predictable and compulsive. Excellent.

1) This feature has a lifespan of 2 weeks, tops. We just don't eat that much Chinese food.
2) I really overused the word Fortune in this paragraph, considering how flipping obvious this entire concept is.

And now back to our regularly scheduled, um, excuses

2009-04-06T14:42:00.003-04:00

I'm not entirely sure of the etiquette (1) , but please direct your attention to today's DC Metro Moms. Maybe comment while you're there, you know, before they get buyers remorse.

The most exciting part of this adventure: DCMM (2) uses TypePad which has the appropriate function to properly place footnotes. Hello Blogger, I'm looking at you!

I wish I could say that collaborating on a THIRD blog wouldn't cut into the time I spend here, but our entire relationship is built on trust, and I wouldn't want to ruin that. Unless you want to build a new relationship built entirely on cream puffs. Cause I could really go for a cream puff right around now.

1) Also not entirely sure I care.
2) Look at me with the blogger slang. DCMM stands for DC Metro Moms. At least it should.

RIP Alzheimer Grandma

2009-04-03T20:10:00.007-04:00

So here's the thing. I know you think you have the best Grandma, but I'm sorry to say that you were mistaken. I had the best Grandma ever. Had. She died yesterday morning.

I'm going to say this was last Halloween, because I swear I don't usually let him leave the house like this .

Grandma was a real lady. She always gave advice like "moisturize your elbows because otherwise when you go to a dance and wear long gloves and all the boys can see is your elbows and if you have dry elbows then no boys will ask you to dance." If you see me at BlogHer, ask to see my elbows. Like a baby's bottom. Sans poop.

She had a pretty decent sense of humor as well. During a family game of Scattergories, when everyone else filled in the "Question starting with W" with an innocuous "Who's there?" or "When are you coming?" Grandma wanted to know "Where are the fathers of all these bastard children?" (1)

When Papa had a heart attack in the Fall of 2005, my mom & I moved them from their Del Boca Vista condo to a Sunrise facility halfway between our houses. While the circumstances sucked, this afforded my children an amazing opportunity; to spend serious quality time with their great-grandparents.

And we did.

We visited every week, usually two or three times a week. My kids knew every resident of that Sunrise, which ones to avoid and which ones had candy. Every hallway, every passcode. Which aides would sneak them a can of Shasta and where the cat liked to hide. They joined in at Art time, helped with crossword puzzles and generally made themselves at home.

At first, Grandma's Alzheimers wasn't too bad. She was quirky, worried about things like sinking submarines and people stealing her socks (2) But when Papa suffered his second heart attack and was hospitalized, leaving her alone in the strange new surroundings she quickly fell apart. One day I tried to take her to get her hair done and watch Noa's ballet class. We were stopping at the bank to deposit her social security check, when she became convinced that we were actually robbing the bank. (3) Immediately she sprang into action with a plan to hide the car and ditch the fuzz (4) I took her back to the facility and never got the guts to take her out by myself again.

About 8 weeks ago things started deteriorating rapidly. Grandma left the hospital and entered hospice. We upped our visits to as often as possible but it didn't help. Last month she stopped talking and then last week she stopped eating.

Alzheimer's Disease is a real bitch I tell you.

Today, for the first time in four years, my kids are off school and I have no idea what to do with them. In their condolences, people tell me how lucky Grandma was to have us, but they have it wrong. We were the lucky ones.

1) Although in retrospect, it was the first sign of the Alzheimer's disease and she was possibly referring to MY kids. Still, pretty damn funny.
2) Which actually was a real problem, it turned out.
3) Which, fyi, we were not.
4) I have NO idea. I'm guessing movies?

Famous people SG saw, semi-famous people SG met and not at all famous people SG fell in love with

2009-03-31T10:54:00.000-04:00

Although ShallowGal was certainly tempted to drag out this post into 3 separate posts, she kindly consolidated it into one very long and fairly dull post. Which frees up the rest of her week to also not blog. You're very welcome.

Part 1) Famous People SG Saw

Friday night, ShallowGal went to the place where one goes in New York to see famous people ~ a Knicks game.

ShallowGal discovered a use for both her new Nikon camera lens
and the "annotate" function on Preview

Spike Lee wasn't there but SG did spot John Leguizamo, Chloe Sevigny, and Michael Rapaport.

ShallowGal was distracted during halftime, so she isn't entirely sure what happened to Leguizamo.

Admit it, you'd be distracted too.

When the game resumed, John had been replaced by the uber-adorable Ciara. Who SG had honestly never heard of, but now wants to adopt.

ShallowGal also saw Justin Tuck from the Giants and Bucky Dent from the Yankees. (1)

Part 2) Semi famous People that SG Met

Marinka. And Husbandrinka. And not only did SG meet them, she learned the real reason Husbandrinka doesn't read Marinka's blog (2) And then she pet Nicki the cat. And (yes there's more!) SG actually went shopping for her much ballyhooed brownie pan with Marinka. (3) Does it sound like I'm bragging? Cause I totally am. (4)

Part 3) Not-at-all famous People SG Met

Her father's girlfriend Jessara. (5) Who SG loved. No, not loved. Loved, Loved, Loved. And wants her father to marry and live happily ever after. Unfortunately, Jessara lives, I kid you not, on the border of Brazil and Uruguay which is roughly an 11 hour commute from my father's midtown apartment. Which, considering he doesn't even like to date women in Queens, is a bit of a haul.

1) But Bucky pissed me off so no picture of him.
2) Spell check HATED that sentence on so many levels. But I'm pretty durn sure that's how you spell doesn't.
3) Oddly enough, spell check had no problem with ballyhooed, even when SG originally typed it Ballywhoed. Is this the April fools Day virus I keep hearing about?
4) And SG got Marinka's cell phone number and sent her incessant text messages the entire drive home.
5) SG also learned that her father occasionally reads her blog. Which is weird cause she never even told him she had a blog. Hi Dad!

Wrong Word Wednesday: Cause by the time it's actually Wednesday I'll have forgotten

2009-03-26T14:02:00.003-04:00

Well which one is it?

To my son on his eleventh birthday (2 days late)

2009-03-22T16:53:00.001-04:00

Dear Jake:

So it finally happened. You don't want me bringing cupcakes to your class today at lunch for your birthday.

Fine. Be that way. I don't care.

Except I do. And you know why it makes me so sad? Because I never expected it from you. Eli, maybe. Noa, for sure. But we have a special relationship, one forged from your early 2 1/2 years of being an only child. Other than a couple of neighbors, I didn't have any other friends with kids then; it was all you and me, my all-day, every-day buddy.

You're the kid who at 4 invented the secret handshake that means "I love you." The one we still use. The kid who will spend hours with me at the library. The kid who inherited my sense of humor.

Like that month and a half that we mocked your father for the way he holds a knife

Yes, I know you're a big guy now, almost a teenager. I see that when you eat a turkey sandwich minutes before dinner and when I'm able to wear your winter coat to shovel snow. (1) When you roll your eyes at my inability to recall the quadratic equation on my first try or find Mali on a map. (2)

But no matter how big you think you are, you will always be my first baby. Happy Birthday. I love you.

1) Why am I still shoveling snow when I own an eleven year?
2) Joke's on you. At almost 40, I've needed neither of these facts.

How babies are born according to my 4 year old (1)

2009-03-18T19:26:00.004-04:00

Eli's teacher, his beloved Miss Judy, had a baby this week. Being the saint that all preschool teachers are, she worked up until the very last minute, ten full days past her due date. Eli had many questions, not the least of which was "how will that ginormous baby get out of Miss Judy?"(2)

I once read that you should first ask what they think and work from there. Eli provided the following information:

The baby will come out of Miss Judy's ear.
Eli has 2 dogs in his belly which will also come out his ear.
The plan is to keep one of these dogs and trade the other one in for an actual baby.
Boys cannot have babies which is why he needs to gestate a extra dog to use for trade.

Close enough. I smiled and told him he was correct on all counts.

Miss Judy, having significantly more experience with four year olds, simply answered that the doctor would help the baby get out. Eli shot me an annoyed look and nodded wisely.

With any luck he will remember that all future questions on the topic should be addressed to Miss Judy.

1) These quirky things were way cuter when he was 3. Right?
2) My friend Pia explained the basics to her kids when they were 5 and 7. Her daughter was appalled. "You did that with daddy?" she whined. "Duh," replied her brother "Twice."

A very Shallow investigation: Things SG wasn't doing when she also wasn't blogging last week

2009-03-16T11:31:00.001-04:00

Which according the rules of English grammar involving double negatives, should cause these things to automatically just happen. Wait, let me look. Nope. Apparently avoiding double negatives does not mean what I thought it meant. Damn.

Well, if nothing else, you should rest assured that SG has not been wasting the time when she was not blogging engaged in some other more productive task. Unless you're PCSguy and then you should know that SG spent her week involved in some very important things. Like buying that new coffeemaker. Hey! Why don't I make you some coffee? Look at the size of that cat!

Is he gone? Let's start this investigation.

1.

It's a conundrum how SG's children can go through so many clothes
and yet still always look like orphans.

Not a hair on ~~her~~ his precious little head was harmed.

3. Other things not pictured but also not completed last week: visit DMV to renew driver's license, bake Oreo brownies or finish the taxes.

Shallow-land. A play in 3 scenes

2009-03-11T14:21:00.001-04:00

Scene 1: ShallowGal and Noa are discussing Noa's interim report in which her teacher suggests (1) that her classwork would benefit from less talking in class.

SG: Talking in class is a bad habit, like biting your nails. You just need to make an effort to stop.

Noa: Like you're so perfect.

SG: Name one bad habit I have (2)

Noa: Turning boxes inside out.

SG: That's really more of a lifestyle choice.

Scene 2: ShallowGal is measuring Noa for the skating dress she is having made (3) for the upcoming competition season. (4)

SG: You're between a 6 and an 8 but we'll go with the 8 because it's easier to take in than let out.

Jake: What size would I be?

SG: If you wore a skating dress?

Jake: Yes.

SG: Let me get this straight. I need to finish ordering this, clean up your dinner dishes, put Eli to bed, make my own dinner, supervise showers and teeth brushing (4) all in the next like 45 minutes so I can get 7 hours sleep before I have to wake up and do it all over again, but you'd like me to stop and measure you for an imaginary hypothetical skating dress?

Jake: Never mind.

SG: That's what I thought.

Scene 3: The dinner table.

Eli: Knock knock

SG: Who's there?

Eli: This blonde walks into a room.

SG: Wait. You're four. Where did you learn blonde jokes?

Eli: My worms (5) told them to me.

SG: Your worms told you a knock knock jokes about a blonde?

Eli: My worms told me the knock knock joke and my duck told me the blonde joke.

SG: So what's the punchline?

Eli: I still like yogurt!

SG: I don't get it.

Eli: Never mind.

and FIN.

1) In no surprise to anyone who has ever met Noa.
2) Eating in bed, too much reality tv and referring to myself constantly in the third person are the ones that come to mind. I don't know if Noa was overlooking them out of obliviousness or self protection.
3) Read "having made"as "won on ebay"
4) Meaning the competition at our home rink. ShallowGal has no delusions about her kids skating careers; they are good skaters but not 'leave the state good'.
5) Because I haven't yet caved to the pressure of a dog, Eli owns several imaginary pet worms, as well as a frog and a duck.

How to make Oreo Brownies, ShallowGal style

2009-03-06T09:56:00.009-05:00

1) Invite self + posse to friend Pia's house for dinner. Generously offer to bring dessert.

2) Happen upon recipe for Oreo brownies. Become obsessed with these brownies based solely on the photos.

Food porn stolen from this awesome blog(1)

3) Find Oreos on sale at Safeway. Consider it a sign from G-d that you ~~should~~ ~~need~~ were put on this Earth to make these brownies. (2)

4) Buy top shelf chocolate chips. Borrow a double boiler. Clear calender for entire morning to give brownies the attention they deserve.

5) Remember that last night, while making popcorn shrimp, the oven started getting all smokey and set off the fire alarm. The one that is hard wired to the fire station. Clean the oven (3) to prevent a repeat of that fun. Not that SG doesn't enjoy visiting with firefighters. But. must. focus.

6) Start lining up all the ingredients. Discover that there is only one stick of unsalted butter in the refrigerator (4) Wonder why G-d is toying with me today.

7) Look in downstairs freezer for butter. Find these:

This will free up SG's morning to study theology and food photography

8) Bank on Pia not reading my blog today. Thaw brownies and move to platter. Serve and enjoy.

1) I also blame her for my obsession with this brownie pan.
2) SG is constantly looking for signs from G-d about why she is on this Earth and is a little annoyed that he wasted a sign on this.
3) 'Clean the oven' is shorthand for 'take a wet paper towel and wipe all the black crap off the oven floor' If you have a better way, I'd love to have you come over and demonstrate.
4) Butter was the first ingredient, making it a very short line.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: The HUH? edition

2009-03-04T00:43:00.001-05:00

ShallowGal to PCSGuy: "Don't trip on the L in the doorway."

Like we live on Sesame Street or something.

Boxed out

2009-02-28T19:08:00.007-05:00

And we have it. The hobby that's finally going to get ShallowGal sent to the funny farm. (1)

Turning boxes inside out for fun and profit. (2)

Like in life, sometimes there are casualties

It would be a useful skill if, say you have an etsy business and mail stuff. Which I don't. Although that's sort of how I got started, trying to make a box to mail my dad a hat I bought him so it wouldn't get crushed.

Measure once, cut twice (3)

I'm considering starting a box business. Pick-up only. Cause I have no clue how to ship them.

1) FYI, SG is *not* making fun of lunatics. In fact, SG sometimes fantasizes about going to a nice place where she can sit in an Adirondack chair and watch the sun set over the hills. And she gets great pills that help her sleep and meets all these fascinating people that inspire her to write a book. And the entire time SG wears this awesome hat. Kind of a wide brimmed sun hat but made of straw. Not like the kind you'd wear to the horse races. Because that would look ridiculous. And I don't think you get to take field trips to the track unless it's a really hip mental institution. Also, SG is *not* going to group counseling sessions.
2) Except I haven't figured out how to profit from it yet. And truthfully, it isn't as much fun as it sounds.
3) A short list of failed hobbies as portrayed in this picture: photography and carpentry.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T00:14:00.000-05:00

Don't get me wrong, my 3 year old's spelling skills are impressive. (1)
It's just I think his cow (2) looks a little more penis-like than your usual bovine. (3)

1) He can spell ELI and COW. What else does he need to know?
2) He claims that's a picture of his worm. I *just* figured out why Eli has imaginary pet worms. All testosterone that child.
3) Ironically, over at Le other Blog, Marinka was looking for some manparts.

Places ShallowGal DOES want to go. (1)

2009-02-23T07:22:00.002-05:00

When SG says "places she'd like to go" you should interpret that as "SG spends hours studying guide books about these place and conducting hourly kayak.com searches for bargain airfares."

1) Central America

Particularly Costa Rica. As a matter of fact, as she writes this, SG is trying to decide if she would rather fly Continental and spend an extra hour in the air, but transfer in Houston or fly COPA and change planes in Panama. Fact: SG is way more adventurous when not faced with the possibility of being trapped in a Panamanian airport with the posse.

But lately SG goes back and forth on Nicaragua. People say it's like Costa Rica was 20 years ago. (2) You can get a lobster dinner for $6 and rent a luxury tree house like this for $1000 for the entire week.

SG will admit being a wee bit leary of treehouses with pools

But the safety of Nicaragua is in question. Proponents claim it's the safest country in Central America and order you to Google it. But when SG did, she found this State Deptartment advisory:

Although extensive de-mining operations have been conducted to clear rural areas of northern Nicaragua of landmines left from the civil war in the 1980s, visitors venturing off the main roads in these areas are cautioned that the possibility of encountering landmines still exists. Domestic travel within Nicaragua by land and air, particularly to the Atlantic side can be dangerous. Domestic airlines use small airstrips with minimal safety equipment and little boarding security.

U.S. citizens are cautioned that strong currents and undertows off sections of Nicaragua's Pacific coast have resulted in a number of incidents of drowning. Powerful waves have also resulted in broken bones, and injuries caused by sting rays are not uncommon in popular resort bathing areas. Warning signs are not posted, and lifeguards and rescue equipment are not readily available

Gang violence, drive-by shootings, robbery, assault and stabbings are most frequently encountered in poorer neighborhoods, including the Ticabus area, a major arrival and departure point for tourist buses. However, in recent months it spread to more upscale neighborhoods and near major hotels, including the Zona Hippos. In 2008, a U.S. citizen was critically injured in a gang-motivated drive-by shooting that occurred in the San Judas area. Another U.S. citizen was kidnapped and left for dead in the Villa Fontana area of Managua.

And so on. Sounds pretty bad, right? Compare it to the State Department advisory on Rwanda.

Rwanda is a landlocked developing country in central Africa. Although it continues to recover from the 1994 civil war and genocide in which up to one million people were killed, it is currently safe, clean, and well-organized. Economic activity and tourism are on the rise in Rwanda. Hotels and guesthouses are adequate in Kigali, the capital, and in major towns, but are limited in remote areas.

Did you see Hotel Rwanda? (3) And this is better than Nicaragua? ShallowGal might need to think on this one a little longer.

2) Alaska:

Yes, you remember correctly, SG's entire family went to Alaska last year. That trip we took a cruise thru the southern part of the state and visiting Glacier Bay. Next time SG wants to rent an RV and drive thru the interior to Denali and the Artic Circle.

"Wait," you're saying. "ShallowGal, who doesn't leave the house from November to April because it's too cold, wants to take her vacation driving in a state that rarely gets above 50 degrees? ShallowGal, who complained because the Ritz in South Beach didn't upgrade her to a club level room, wants to spend her vacation driving a 30 foot tin can with PCSguy and three kids?"

Yes. Alaska was just that awesome.

3) Croatia:

True story: A few years back, Noa and I were watching 'Where in the World is Matt Lauer' and he was in Croatia. It was gorgeous. Noa was transfixed. Then a few days later, I told the kids to get ready, we needed to make a quick trip to IKEA for a bookcase. Noa went ballistic, I assumed over the ball pit. We got there and she broke down. Cause she heard IKEA but interpreted it in her 5 year old brain as Croatia.

Admit it, you so did not know where Croatia was exactly.

1) C'mon. You didn't really coming looking for this last Thursday did you? Sucker.
2) Which might not be a good thing, because SG wore a lot of blue mascara in the 80s. Bad look.
3) Was it as bad as they say? Cause it sounded really depressing.

Places ShallowGal doesn't want to go. Besides Hell. That one's a given.

2009-02-18T08:10:00.010-05:00

There's an excellent chance that this will be ShallowGal's most controversial post. Because she's about to dis everyone's favorite vacation spots.

Fact: ShallowGal loves traveling. And planning vacations. Sometimes SG plans vacations she has no time or money to take. And we can talk about those places. Tomorrow.

But first, we need (2) to look at some popular vacation spots that SG has no interest in visiting. Feel free to try to change my mind. (3)

1) Hawaii.

SG has traveled throughout the Caribbean and finds it hard to believe that Hawaii is any better and worth the 10 hour flight. And hello! I can't be the only one who remembers what happened when the Brady Bunch went there. I don't need Vincent Price trying to kill me in a cave over some silly idol.

2) Paris, Rome, London.

To be honest, SG has already been to all these places; Rome was too frenetic, London too touristy and Paris too French. No need to return to any of them.

3) Australia

While SG would love to meet some of her favorite bloggers in person, that hardly warrants this:

What the hell happened to Saturday?

It can take us a month to recover from Daylight Savings Time, you think I'm dragging the posse to the opposite side of the Earth to see a koala? That's what the zoo is for, thank you very much.

Tune in tomorrow (4) to see SG's dream vacations.

1) You can look and look but there's no (1) in the text.
2) I spend hours trying to explain to my kids the difference between need and want. I have no idea why they don't get it.
3)By offering me an all expense paid trip there.
4) Tomorrow. Sure, why not? Stranger things have happened.

It's time for a little game

2009-02-13T17:05:00.007-05:00

Q: Can you guess the theme of Eli's birthday party? I'll give you a hint:

Not shown: Kung Fu Panda goody bags and Go Diego Go streamers.

A: It's "I'm a third child, I'm lucky to have a party at all"

With all the money we saved recycling paper goods from parties past, we invited his preschool class to the nature center this Sunday. There we're going to pet a turtle, make a bird feeder and eat cake. That reminds me, we need candles; there's a bag of them somewhere:

One day someone will explain the purpose of the candle holders to me

Since Eli isn't 6, 7, 9, or 67, 76 or 796 this year, we'll go with the question mark. Even though anyone who came within 100 miles of him today knows he's four. There were 4 matching white candles but I used them on the cake that he and I made together for dinner tonight.

In my own defense, he requested a Christmas fun-fetti cake.(1)

Happy Birthday Eli !

PS: I tried repeatedly to think of a clever way to link to the post about Eli's third birthday but could not. You people are onto all my tricks.

1) I believe the exact discussion went something like this:

"We have a Christmas fun-fetti mix"

"I want chocolate"

"It's fun-fetti or nothing"

"Fine"

I had a great title for this post but it was too long for the title box. Which has never happened to me before.

2009-02-12T09:56:00.002-05:00

Noa's picked up a new catch phrase. She learned it from Jake who used it correctly, although not necessarily kindly:

Mom, no offense but you're kind of a hypocrite.

This attack was leveled when informed that he couldn't check a cookbook out of the library even though I planned to. Being as, I don't know, I plan meals and cook them? And his job is writing book reports and Rachel Ray isn't on the approved author list. (1) Before you rip into me about censorship, know that Jake has unusual and varied book tastes and needs to be reigned in.

Anywho, Noa's track record for correct usage her new favorite phrase is about 30%. There's the occasional lucky hit:

All the other moms wear make-up when they come to school. No offense.

But usually it seems to be a way to just add more words to her sentence. As if she needed the help: (2)

I'd like a cheeseburger with no pickles. No offense. (3)

I think I'll wear my gray shirt today. No offense.

I have 3 pages of math homework tonight. No offense

Which is more like a 25% accuracy rate, but math isn't her strong point.

And trust me, the irony of having a child worried about offending people, is not at all lost on me.

1) And, hey, no offense taken. Hypocrite is far from the worst thing ShallowGal got called that day.
2) No offense Noa.
3) According to a recent poll, pickles are the most easily offended condiment.

The 'holy smokes I haven't blogged in a week' edition

2009-02-09T14:07:00.007-05:00

Once I read this book. Well technically I read the title of a book. It really made me think. The author makes the bold claim in her title that No One Cares What You Had For Lunch: 100 ideas for your blog.(1) That's why I've been gone for a week; I didn't want to bore you. Plus I've been busy over at Secret Spineless Whine. And just a wee bit sad because Eli is going to be four on Friday and then I'm all out of babies. Bottom line: it was for your own good. SG was no good for anyone.

Now that I've blown all my excuses in one wad, I'm going to share with you the conversation I had with Noa today after school. Which is basically the exact same conversation that we have every fucking day. Ironically about what Noa ate right after lunch. Does anyone care about that?

Noa: I'm Starving. Can I have a snack?

SG: "No, you can't. (2) Fine. This once. What would you like? "

What do we have ?

"We have the same things we always have. How about some fruit?"

Nah.

"You sure? I have those oranges you like, or maybe some blueberries." (3)

What else is there?

Yogurt. Cheese. Turkey. Oatmeal. (4)

Are there any pop tarts?

Have there ever been any pop tarts?

Yes ! That one time on vacation.

Well that was a one time only thing.

Is there cereal?

Yes.

What kind?

I don't know. Go look in the pantry.

Never mind, I'm not hungry.

Three kids times three meals + 2 snacks a day times seven days. I told you. It was for your own good.

1) It should be appended to say "unless your name is VUBOQ" because he makes really cool lunches.
2) I make the same "joke" every single time, so I'm not exactly blameless in this debacle.
3) SG is both a fruit whore, spending easily $50 a pop at the produce department and a fruit pimp. There was a well thought out fruit prostition joke there at one point and I'm leaving the footnote open in case it pops back into my brain.
4) It's not that I don't buy junk food, it's just PCSguy and I hoard it for ourselves.

ShallowGal discovers a cure for Alzheimer's Disease

2009-02-03T18:19:00.007-05:00

An article on AOL news today, caught ShallowGal's attention; it claims that drinking apple juice can slow the progression of Alzheimer's disease.(1) Ironically, SG has been working on a cure of her own.

You see ShallowGal swung by Sunrise today to visit Alzheimer Grandma. (2) All the residents were sitting in a circle in their chairs and wheelchairs. The aide put her hands together in a prayer motion and motioned to be quiet. ShallowGal is familiar with most of the World's major religions and isn't aware of any that worship on a Tuesday morning, but hey, live and learn.

The woman leading the service was colorfully dressed and enthusiastic. She led the mostly sleeping congregation in several prayers and a rousing rendition of Amazing Grace. And, oh yeah I almost forgot, she did the entire thing with her hand shoved up the backside of a giant ostrich puppet.

Not just a regular ostrich puppet either. This two foot tall bird was wearing a jaunty crocheted beret and a large fanny pack to store his Bible. And when the service was over, Oliver (3) kissed each resident on the top the their head and reminded them that they were G-d's favorite child. (4)

So here's my idea: Maybe, just maybe, if we remove ventriloquist ministers from the Alzheimer units, there will be just a little less chaos in those poor people's minds.

Lets see if Tropicana wants to study that.

1) This study may or may not have been sponsored by Tropicana.
2) I swear this isn't going to become one of those dying Alzheimer Grandma blogs that are flooding the internet today. But AG is back in Sunrise under the care of Hospice. Thank you all for your kind comments, tweets and e-mails.
3) Who said to me "But you can call me Ollie." He also had a middle name that I missed and no bloody way I was asking him to repeat it.
4) But when I try to pick a favorite child everyone gets all worked up. G-d gets all the breaks.

Will Blog for Swag

2009-02-02T13:18:00.004-05:00

ed note: ShallowGal cannot take any credit for the title. It was originally written by SG's former IRL BFF (1) for a joint blogging venture before (2) she got sidetracked by her conservative agenda. We aren't holding that against her, but we also aren't linking to her new project. Hey SG? Passive aggressive much?

It recently occurred to ShallowGal that she needed a swag policy. Because let's get one thing clear; SG started blogging solely for the swag. The creative outlet, awesome friends and sense of community were certainly nice perks but ultimately SG is all about the free crap.

So all you captains of industry, listen up ! If you want a critique of your wares go ahead and send them. ShallowGal and posse (3) will check them out and if we like it, write up a review. If we don't like it, we won't say anything. So you can pretty much be guaranteed no bad press on LeShallowGal.com.

Which considering SG has been known to review movies she hasn't even seen, is a pretty good deal all around.

The flip side: ShallowGal's readers are very smart, and just a wee bit suspicious. So when there's no review for, say, an iphone or a Wii Fit, they'll have no choice but to assume you sent it to me and it sucked. Fair enough?

Hey now, blackmail is such an ugly word. Here at ShallowGal we prefer incentivized. Or for the conservatives coming over here to gawk: misunderestimated.

1) Apparently SG is really 13 and texting her blog from her little pink phone
2) b/4
3) if appropriate. SG will also do review grown-up swag sans the posse.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: The close enough edition

2009-01-29T20:01:00.004-05:00

Frustrated by my unwillingness to buy them snuggies,

my kids take matters into their own hands. (1)

1) And theirs are possibly better, because of the anonymity option, as modeled by Eli.

ShallowGal answers the questions you didn't even know you had about the new blog you didn't even know she had:

2009-01-28T00:01:00.009-05:00

Yes, a new blog! But don't worry, LeShallowGal isn't going anywhere. Except either Mom 2.0 or BlogHer, she hasn't really decided yet.

But yes! A new blog, a joint venture with the fabulous Marinka entitled Secret Spineless Whine (.5)

She brings the cat and the brains and I bring the beauty. Except Caitin & I did all the technical stuff and PetCo won't let Marinka adopt a cat. But you know, it's all good.

I know what you're thinking VUBOQ:

Don't you already have enough trouble updating your existing blog, averaging like 3 posts a week with one of them being a mostly wordless Wednesday that you stick up there mid-weekend?

That's the beauty of this new site: YOU get to do the work.(1) We just take all the credit.

Meanwhile David from Someone in a tree (2) is wondering:

Doesn't this kind of thing already exist? Like Secret tweet?

Well, yes and no. The easiest way to explain is to show some examples:

secrettweet 13662 Everyday I silently curse my parents for my circumcision. It was the worst thing they ever bought for me.

Compare to this:

spineless whine #1: My floor is sticky: One of the kids spilled a fruit cup on my kitchen floor and my cleaning lady doesn't come until Monday. I don't think I can live with it that long, but I don't know where the mop is.

Which one can you relate to? More importantly, which one do you want floating through your subconscious the next time you have sex? How is this even a contest?

PCSguy (3) weighs in:

Did you know I refilled your meds? They're on the top shelf in your bathroom.

Check. Thanks.

Meanwhile, over in Maryland, Stimey is curious:

Will you bring spineless secret whine toasters to BlogHer '09?

Obviously. Marinka promises, nay, swears, this thing is going to make us rich. And then there will be toasters for everyone.

.5) Although now SG is wondering if it shouldn't be Secret Spineless Whines and she wants to ask Marinka, who promised constant contact via bat phones but who admits this late in the game that she can't remember her new blog's name? And yes, .5 It's frickin midnight, I am not renumbering these footnotes.
1) Just by emailing your whine to SecretSpineless.Whine@blogger.com
2) SG's next scheme will be a gay psychic blog.
3) PCSguy has a new blog but it is dull, dull, dull, so no linky love for him. I also won't friend him on facebook, but that's a different issue for another day.

Ten things ShallowGal has learned during Alzheimer Grandma's past week in the cardiac critical care unit.

2009-01-26T20:16:00.008-05:00

1. How to get to the blue parking garage, the gray parking garage, the cafeteria, the other cafeteria, the coffee shop in the lobby, the gift shop, the auxiliary gift shop, radiology and the place where people with newborns exit. (1)

2. That the morgue has been renamed "The Department of Decedent Affairs." While ShallowGal is very impressed with the lobbying ability of dead people to get a more politically correct name, they probably used the same people the psychopaths used to get renamed "Sarah Palin supporters." Cause neither one is a marked improvement.

3. That one should always wear make-up to the hospital because you never know when you might meet a cutey-patootie cardiologist.

4. That cardiologists don't mind being referred to as "that cutey-patootie doctor."

5. But they still won't write you a prescription for anything good. (2)

6. Bravo should really be called "The Real Housewives of the OC" channel.

7. OC stands for Orange County, not Ocean City. Which explains the distinct lack of airbrushed tee shirts.

Maybe because there's no housewife named Natalie

8. That Gretchen and Lauri are actually two entirely separate housewives. Which explains why SG was having such a hard time following the storyline. For the first six episodes, ShallowGal was wondering why Gretchen/Lauri changed her outfit a dozen times during each meal.

Gretchen is the one in yellow and Lauri is either the one on the left or the one on the right.

9. Alzheimer Grandma is no use whatsoever in keeping Gretchen and Lauri straight.

10. How to read a cardiac telemetry monitor, to recognize the signs of Atrial fibrillation, and the proper doses of benazepril, lasik and dilantin for a 83 year old, 99 pound woman. But still confused on the Gretchen / Lauri thingee. Funny how SG's mind works.

1) Alzheimer Grandma is in a big-ass hospital.
2) Probably because my specific request was "Will you write me a prescription for something good?" Note to self: See what Wikipedia has to say about good drugs so I can be prepared next time.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday: The SG really needs to buy herself one of those newfangled scanners rather than taking pictures of pictures,edition

2009-01-23T13:56:00.006-05:00

Alzheimer Grandma holds an eight day old baby Eli(1)

1) So February 2005, right after her Alzheimer's diagnosis. It's amazing how much they've both changed in four years.

ShallowGal speculates on Season 5 of LOST

2009-01-22T09:14:00.015-05:00

ShallowGal spent the past month doing nothing but watching the first four seasons of LOST on the SciFi Channel; undoubtedly making her the premier expert between the ages of 38 and 40 in Burke, Virginia on the series. Or at least in the top ten.

Fact/secret I never told PCSguy: Three years ago, while ShallowGal was surfing LOST spoiler forums, her computer went "poof" (1) As a result, ShallowGal has never looked at any LOST related internet site since. (2)

So these theories / speculations (2.5) may already be common knowledge. There's also an excellent chance that not a single reader cares what SG thinks about LOST. But look at it this way; it's better than the depressing Alzheimer Grandma updates.

ShallowGal's LOST theories and speculation

#1) When Sun told Kate, 'I don't blame you for Jin's death'? She was totally lying. Last season she told her father that there were two people she blamed for Jin's death and he was one of them. See how she said "people" not "men." Wouldn't surprise me if she hired the attorneys who wanted Aaron's DNA. Conclusion: Sun is now evil. Watch your back, Kate.

#2) That white haired woman at the end, who I keep wanting to call Lillian for no good reason, is Daniel Faraday's mother. She looks familiar because she was the one who wouldn't sell Desmond the engagement ring last season. In the episode where Desmond tried to become a monk, and the head monk kicked him out, there was a picture on his desk of him with Lillian. Conclusion: Head Monk is in on it.

#3) When Kate took the plea bargain, one of the conditions was that she not leave California. Her lawyer (3) tried to convince her not to take it. Bad move Kate.

#4) Next time John Locke sees Richard Alpert will be in the past. Do you remember the flashback where Alpert "tested" a ten year old Locke, offering him several items and asking him which was his? Locke picked the knife. Buzz! Better luck next time Johnny!

This also allowed Alpert to get in the best line of the entire episode:

Alpert: I won't recognize you next time I see you. You'll need to give me this compass.

Locke: What does it do?

Alpert: It points North, John.

#5) Examples this episode of 'loops': the record skipping and the use of the line "God help us all."

#6) Are we really supposed to believe that in 108 days on the island, Jin learned enough English to understand "We don't have enough liquid nitrogen to keep the c4 from detonating." Because I could spend the next 108 years studying Korean and still not get that far. (4)

1) Just like the island, I know, right?
2) Except, of course, Wikipedia, which doesn't count.
2.5) Speculates is a really weird word which makes me think always of speculum.
3) Also known as Bill Paxton's polygimist brother. You got a huge cash settlement from Oceanic Airlines, Kate. You could have afforded a real lawyer.
4) There was originally a joke here about my cleaning lady's English but PCSguy said I crossed that line again.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled posts (1)

2009-01-19T18:46:00.004-05:00

because ShallowGal is in the hospital with Alzheimer Grandma who is suffering some cardiac problems. And Pneumonia. Along with few other minor issues. Which SG found out about after a three hour hour search of Northern Virginia hospitals because someone, who shall remain nameless (2) misplaced Alzheimer Grandma.

Luckily Grandma has been found, but she's missing her clothes, and worse, her teeth. SG had planned to attend Hands on Kirtsy DC and the inaugural tweet-up, but will instead sit in the cardiac ICU and take advantage of the free wi fi. And try to scam one of those awesome pink cups with a built in straw, like you get when you have a baby. Or at the very least, a few containers of jello. But really, SG deserves the cup.

1) There was one for Monday about buying furniture and one for Tuesday about my memories of inaugurations past.
2) Nameless only because SG is still trying to lay blame. But once she does this person will be instantly recognizable by the new asshole SG plans to rip him.

How to sort your laundry, ShallowGal style

2009-01-16T05:34:00.004-05:00

Being just the teeniest bit OCD, SG has a laundry sorting system. (1) She has TWO 3 section laundry sorters, plus two stand alone hampers. On an average week (2) there are:

2 loads of whites on warm
2 loads of colors on cold
2 loads of towels and dishcloths
1 loads of sheets
1 load of denim
1 load of PCSguy laundry (3)
1 load of red and pinks.

This week SG hit a new milestone:

An entire load of khaki (4)

SG may have to give up blogging to start sorting laundry full-time

1) And the fact that I've waited 15 months to talk about it is a testament to my fantastic self restraint. Actually this has been a huge growing year for SG, because for 9 years she would use no detergent except for Tide Free and just in the past few months has expanded to Tide Free 2x ultra concentrated.
2)Average is another word for vomit-free.
3)Which to prove some long-forgotten point he does himself every Saturday morning.
4) With the beginnings of an orange load next to it.

Why yes, I do believe this is the post everyone and his blog-writing brother do when feeling just a wee bit lazy

2009-01-15T05:42:00.002-05:00

Ala David Letterman, who SG hasn't stayed up late enough to watch in years (1)

The top ten Google searches that bring poor, unassuming new readers to LeShallowGal.com

(Source: Sitemeter. The free version. Because this shit is interesting and all, but not pay-good-money- interesting.)

#10: Crocs Cyprus review
SG really dodged a bullet there.

#9: Jenny the Bloggess photo(2)
She's very pretty. Still, say no to cyber-stalking.

#8 (tie) : Little Einstein Potty Coloring Page:
SG is waiting for Disney to order her to take this one down.

#8 (tie): The girl who played with first book lisbeth salander 3 ft tall:
The scary thing is I totally get what this person was searching for.

#7: Blogging ethics:
You are so looking in the wrong place.

#6: Frontier Airlines:
Bottom line: They don't like rats.

#5: How to tell someone something really embarrassing
I think it's best to just spit it out. But if it's really really embarrassing you should tell me first and we can have a good laugh before you tell that person.

#4: Describe Alaska/ Describe Alsaka
It's very pretty. And cold. And SG wishes spell check worked in the title box.

#3: House Hunters/House Hunters in Mobile Alabama / House Hunters Jewish
Other people are starting to realize that the fix is in. Unfortunately a third of people think the Jews are behind it, when the Dharma Initiative is. (3)

#2: 21 things I love about my daughter in honor of her birthday.
I've never met your daughter, but I'm sure she's lovely. From what I've heard, Facebook is where you go for things like that. Or My Space, maybe.(4)

And the # 1 search that brings people to LeShallowGal

#1: What do I pack for Disney?
Lots and lots of cash.

(1) SG has been up late enough with various babies maybe a dozen times in the past few years and every single time they were replaying the same episode. Weird, right?
(2) Hey Jenny, the good news is none of these searches were for Naked Jenny the Bloggess picture. But only because I don't have any.
(3) That's a little LOST joke. SG's been re-watching all 4 seasons of Lost to get ready for the season 5 premiere.
(4)Until last night, when Lolita Travelsalot set her straight, SG thought they were the same thing.