Passive-aggressive valentines, Shallow-Gal & son style

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.