Diary of a Turkey

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)

1. And yes, I got permission from the author
2. The imagination on this kid!
3. :-(
4. Vermont Federal Zoo? Suddenly that B last quarter in Social Studies seems generous.
5. Watch my 11 year old land a book deal before me.

Top 10 reasons why ShallowGal isn't participating in NaMamPoBo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ShallowGal / America's Test Kitchen Project

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

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

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

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.

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!

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

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

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

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.
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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

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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)

1)

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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?