Sweet deals

We were up by 5:30 this morning to finish set up. Sam was up too - he usually sleeps until at least 6:30, sometimes 7, but of course when you need to catch an hour's break...well, that's how it goes. It was particularly frustrating because the night before, he didn't fall asleep until after 9. We thought surely he'd sleep in a bit. Clearly, we are still total greenhorns at this parenting thing.

Anyway, we did have some early birds. Good thing the ammunition was for sale. Ha. Not that I'd know the first thing about loading it.

Tim was out hanging signs early, and brought home some Munchkins, which we Munched on all morning. Sam on a sugar high = Sell Sell Sell. Kidding. But we really did have a great turnout, and sold about three fourths of what we had out there, totaling just over $600. Yeah! And the coolest thing - very little haggling, so I guess that means our pricing was quite fair.

We had a battery operated doorbell which we never installed. Sam discovered it and rang it continuously for about an hour, and asked each person that arrived, "Do you have a doorbell?" So when he finally found someone that was indeed looking for a doorbell (yea, for real) he sold it, and he got to keep the $2.

Our friend Carl and his daughter Lily came by and hung out for a while, as well as our friend Allison. They were great because they helped to keep Sam distracted when it got particularly busy. Love my friends.

Some very random things sold: A big box of obsolete roofing nails. Chicken fencing. A 50+ year old jack stand (it was in the barn since we moved here). Ammo...uh, yeah, those two guys were...well, I think they have a bunker somewhere. Ironing board, to the woman that stopped by only because she lived in our house 40 years ago and had to tell us, and made it a point to say "I don't do yard sales." Ha! Well apparently now you do...Iron on, m'am. Books sold...books! Those never sell at yard sales. Five for a dollar worked really well.

We still have a couple of boxes worth of odds and ends that didn't sell, as well as some bigger ticket items (namely furniture) to find buyers for, but at least one large piece is already spoken for. So overall, we are in excellent shape.

The mid-month boring post

I have lots going on but I don't have a fun way of framing it into a good post for you, so I'm just using this a little check-in. Besides, you can keep up with me on Facebook most days.

I wonder if there's a way to list all your status messages ever. I'd like to see that. It might be frightening.

Upcoming Highlights:

Weekend trip with friends to Toledo, Ohio area for wedding reception. No kids. No men. Yes shopping. Yes poolside. Yes dancing and acting a fool. And there's a big ass lake there or something.

Week off at the end of the month with quick trip to the city. Taking Sam to the Met. He's really interested in seeing this, and we've been talking about it a lot. He's also intersted in this, but he's not sure he's brave enough because he has formed a Halloween-icized image of mummies. I'm working on breaking that in time for our visit.

My house going under contract. It hasn't happened yet, but it's gonna. And soon.

Getting into some old pants. I've been eating well and getting exercise and I'm looking forward to dropping a size or so by the end of summer. Booya.

Hall of Fame

Thursday evening we took Sam to O-State's community Halloween event - they invite local families to a kids oriented carnival and then escort them through a number of residence halls for trick or treating. Since Tim and I are obviously familiar with campus, we went off on our own, unescorted. We're crazy like that.

I wanted to visit Ford Hall, where I was the director from 1999-2001. It was renovated shortly after I left (that's always the way it goes), and I was curious about the changes. Apparently we were the first family there; as we approached the entrance, a group of students showered us with attention. They discussed who would escort us around, and were having some difficulty deciding on the best route. "Should I tell them?" I asked Tim. He just shrugged. I cleared my throat, "I used to be the hall director here, I know my way around - we can go on our own." Blank stares. A half nod in the back. I think someone said, "Aw." Aw? That's it?? Did they hear me right? I was once virtually Numero Uno in this place...hello? Don't you want to know about all the stories and wisdom and observations I have to impart on you? Why are you not all buzzing around me?

A bespectacled girl came forward and preceded to lead our way. She was pleasant enough, but I wondered...is she just waiting to get me away from the group to ask me all about my past tenure?

I made observations as we walked through the building. The layout was actually a little more complex than I remembered, but of course I didn't admit that. Shh. I asked her if she was a Resident Assistant in the building, hoping to flatter her, to make her feel like it was now ok for her to show her regard for me..."Nope. Hall Government." She chirped happily, and went on to explain how Hall Government helps to plan out the event. As if this was new information to me.
"The sisal on the wall is nice." I said. Wow, at least Sam is having a good time.

We went down another level and she announced the ground floor. "Ah, the Pit," I said knowingly, "or as Res Life would like us to say, the Garden Level." Silence. Come on, that was funny. Tim? Nothing. E tu, Sam? Ugh.

On our way back up I pointed out that they'd re-treaded the stairs. "Really?" she said flatly. I suppose that wasn't so impressive to her. But they really did look better.

Sam did a great job - he said trick or treat and thank you to most of the students, but toward the end, he was more interested in his bounty than making his way out of the building with us.

We thanked spectacles. Oh look, new carpet in the lounge. Sigh.

Back in the car Tim asked me what's wrong with me. That's the dumbest question, isn't it? Nothing and everything, clearly. "Re-treaded stairs, Cristina? Really? Who points that out? Do you think they care?" OK, so maybe he had a point. We laughed. Maybe if I put myself in their shoes, I wouldn't be awestruck by some old dorky director popping in either, as if they were a celebrity. But for a few minutes, I thought maybe, just maybe, I had some kind of a mystical legacy to the residents of a coed state dorm. Everyone wants to be a little bit famous in their own circles.

Lyrical Gangsta

I'm not sure what exactly a lyrical gangsta does, but I think I would like to be one for a day. For solely sheer reminiscing pleasure, here's some of the worst lyrics ever recorded. They're so awful, they're good. Just try to come up with something more fabulously lame.

I'm as serious as cancer when I say rhythm is a dancer.
-Snap!

The west is the best.
-The Doors
*Yea, I know, shame on me for making fun of The Doors. But really, Jim? That line wasn't much of a stretch.

There's not a woman that can handle a man like me - that's why I juggle two or three.
-Gerardo (Rico Suave)

And everything is to the back, with a little slack, and inside out is wiggida wiggida wiggida wack!
-Kriss Kross

Get out of my dreams...get into my car. Touch my bumper, baby let's make a deal.
-Billy Ocean

So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin workout tapes by Fonda...but Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda. My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hun. You can do sidebends or situps, but please don't lose that butt.
-Sir Mixalot
This song holds a special place in my heart. And on my butt.

Feel free to add on your favorites.

Blogger's Block II: Cold & Icy

Wow, my career would be in jeopardy if I wrote for a living. After a warm and fuzzy piece like my last entry, I feel a little drained in the membrane. Hey, I just saw Cypress Hill on VH1. They're still around, and just as their likeness on that priceless Simpsons episode, they still look toasted. Nicely toasted.

Oh, and about this warm and fuzzy business: don't be fooled, I'm as chilly and mean as ever. I simply had an unexpected moment of chick-flicky weakness. It happens. Back when I was working in res life, my colleagues made fun of me for unabashedly loathing the part of our weekly staff meeting where our director had us go around the table and describe any good, bad, or stressful events of our week. Really, that wasn't so terrible, but what I found nauseating was that he would then single out the director he felt had the 'toughest' week and passed them this sad little teddy bear, aka the Warm Fuzzy, to hold on to until the next meeting. Why not just cradle and burp us? I mean, really. I made certain I never had it in my possession. If I had been awarded Mr. Warm Fuzzy, he certainly would have suffered an unfortunate freak accident and not made it back.

During one meeting, Beth and Allison remarked that should my week ever be deemed the toughest, an ice cube would be an appropriate token, because in contrast to the Warm Fuzzy, I'm Cold and Icy. That's when I knew those girls could be trusted.

M & M Training

I'm still suffering from a wit-block, so this will be more of a general account than a fun story.

A few items of note for today:

We have a new laptop. It's a SONY Vaio, but not the models with the battery recall. We had a VAIO desktop for years and were pleased with it. It's not my coveted airbook, I know, but it's white and sleek and fab. We got an exceptional deal on Ebay, much better than any sale we found.

With the renovations and my budget woes, the laptop might seem like a totally frivolous purchase, but we were thinking about it for a while: We have a traditional upstairs/downstairs layout, and our desktop is upstairs in the 'office.' When I'm home with Sam all day, I have to drag him upstairs with me, away from his play area, to do any work on the computer...not that he actually lets me focus on anything because he wants to be back downstairs playing. I can't blame him. We also risk waking Tim when we're up there (he works night shift 3/5 nights). With a laptop, Tim or I can do work while we're in the main area of the house and can give Sam full attention. With a master's thesis looming in December, and the extra work I've picked up, it has been frustrating to have to wait until Sam was in bed to get anything done. I have every confidence the laptop will help. Not only that, but now, after he goes to bed, I don't have to choose between obsessively watching Election Center on CNN and going upstairs to work on the computer. Yay for split focus.

Regardless of how much it can be justified, I will still feel guilty and frivolous about the purchase for weeks to come. That's just one of my issues. I can spend a shameful sum on a pair of shoes and not blink once, but on anything else, I'm suddenly a thrift queen. I have reigned in my shoe addiction, by the way.

Sam is in Potty Training. It's not a do or die situation yet, but we try for small triumphs every day. I don't want him to stress out about it (see Before The Storm entry). I'm totally copying what the mom from Jon & Kate + 8 does: an M & M reward system, specifically 1 for pee and 2 for poop. The only problem is that it's more like: 1 for pee, 2 for poop, and 26 for mom. I need to train myself OFF the M & Ms.

Today we went to the Fly Creek Cider Mill outside of Cooperstown. We met up with my friends Allison, Angie, and Beth. I was glad to hang out for a little bit. Sam had a blast checking everything out, especially the 'tractorland' play area. It was really crowded, so my initial excitement about picking up cheese and apples and cider wore off pretty quickly. It's like every time I go somewhere, there's a short honeymoon period where I forget how cumbersome it can be to have a toddler with you. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to go especially for Sam - it's just that some days feel more choresome than others. Is choresome even a word??

The Fly Creek Cider Mill runs a local commercial with an awful, folksy grate-on-your-nerves tune that goes: Apples and Cider, Apples and Cider, Apples and Cider at the Fly Creek Cider Mill. At the Fly Creek Cider Mill. Of course it was stuck in my head for days, but Sam broke up the monotony by saying, Apples and Spiders, Apples and Spiders. We changed the lyrics for a day or two, but now he knows it's really Cider.

Blogger's Block.

A dozen weird little things about me:

1. I 'smooth' my eyebrows countless times a day. Can't even handle the mere thought that an eyebrow hair might be out of place.

2. Watch out, I'll smooth yours too if they're in disarray. I'll hold you down and tweeze if I have to.

3. I like to peel off the crimped borders on adhesive postage stamp books and wrap them around my fingers like fabulous rings.

4. Fascinated by the wash cycle in a top loader. I used to open it up a couple times during a cycle to watch the clothes slosh around. We have a front loader now. Sigh.

5. Can't shuffle cards.

6. Possess uncommonly good color memory.

7. I often start reading magazines from the back.

8. I had a nose piercing for about a month in 1996. Took it out after mom cried over it.

9. I smell Sam all day. Sometimes it's a diaper check, but mostly it's just to smell him because his skin and hair have the best scent in the world. I'd guess other moms do this too though. Anyone?

10. This girl sings poorly. Very. Poorly.

11. When I'm on the treadmill (and listening to music) some songs make me daydream that I'm a cool rock star chick in an even cooler band. It could happen. I didn't say I'd be the singer.

12. My friend Alethea and I once fashioned a real mobile out of York Peppermint Patty wrappers. It was awesome.

Back the fig up.

A Freshman Interest Group (or a FIG) used to refer to a sort of living-learning group among college freshmen - they were housed together according to major, participated in the same activities, and so on. They also had sweet, mealy flesh and were often dried. The whole point was for them to bond outside of the classroom in hopes of increasing academic performance and retention, or something like that. Blah blah blah.
During the summer of 99..or maybe 00, my sworn enemy Allison and I were employed, or rather enslaved, by the Residence Life & Housing office to process room assignments. As we were working with the FIG applications, we amused ourselves by using the word fig every chance we got.
Don't fig that up. Where the fig did you go? Oh for fig's sake. And my favorite, back the fig up - as in, quit your talking and get out of the way. now. fool. It's best said with a combination of contempt and annoyance.

If that's not even mildly funny to you, then I'm sorry, you're probably one of those people that finds joy in endless data entry and can't understand the necessity of creative distraction to just get through. You may as well stop reading now.

Spending a summer stamping and filing stacks of cards at a shared desk in a tiny, windowless room bathed in fluorescent light will drive any dynamic duo to despair. We replaced our director's office light switch cover with a comically oversize prop one (we're talking like 10x14). I think it was from a dollar store. They're hard to find, so if you see one, buy it. Everyone should have one.
We strung paper stars with our names on them from above his desk, just to remind him of who the stars on staff really were. The stars stayed because he loved it. Or maybe he was just lazy. Sigh. Why can't work be that fun now? And what does all this have to do with figs? It's a little roundabout, but here's the connection:

Last night Tim noticed that our PC was doing odd things, and in particular, when we used a search engine, it would jump us to strange sites. We finally figured it was a Trojan horse type virus, or a redirect virus. Whatever. I just updated our Norton suite a couple of weeks back (it was expired since 2006!), but apparently, that's useless with this type of thing. I buckled down for the eve and started to back up our pictures and important files and I thought, "I gotta back this all up...Back it the fig up."

And that's how I remembered the beloved Freshman Interest Groups and my budding friendship with Allison.

I tried to download programs to fix the problem, but this particular virus would not let me get to any of the sites like mcafee, trendmicro, malwarebytes, and so on - even if I typed it in directly. The virus would just redirect me to some freak ad site. Aaaargh. I thought we were doomed and would have to call someone. Remember I mentioned that every once in a while Tim is kind of quick and smart? While he was out constable-izing, he dropped into town hall and downloaded four of the most recommended fixes onto his jump drive. We plugged it in this morning and the first one fixed everything. AND, now I have current photo back ups.

"I didn't even have to use my A-K. I gotta say it was a good day."
-Ice Cube

Thanks, Ice. That's pretty much how I feel today.
Oh, and for any old school fans - Ice Cube will be at Magic City Music Hall in Johnson City tonight. Sadly, I won't be. Maybe I'll watch Boyz n the Hood instead.