How to Get Kids to Hate the Earth

I get a lot of catalogs and, because I am the biggest sucker in the world when it comes to my nieces and nephews, most of them have to do with kids' clothes, kids' furniture, and toys. Lots and lots of toys. In fact, due to the fact that we are nearing Christmas I get pretty much receive a toy catalog a day. Some are better than others, and the best is usually FAO Schwartz. It makes me wish I were seven and the daughter of a billionaire. The Barbies alone are enough to make me drool. Bob Mackie Barbie. Vera Wang Barbie. Holiday Barbie with her own ice carriage! I don't care if these dolls spread the wrong image about body image and feminism -- I would mortgage my house just to have them! And then there are the other toys: the dolls, the cooking sets, the science sets, and the remote control cars. All glisten like jewels invented just after I hit puberty. At least, they used to glisten. You see, an ugly, ugly thing has happened to FAO Schwartz this year -- they have gone green.

Don't get me wrong, I like the earth. I have reusable shopping bags, I turn off my halogen bulbs when I leave a room, and I feel really, really bad when I have to drive to the store (not bad enough to walk, but pretty bad). However, I feel a line needs to be drawn when it comes to environmentalism. No, I will not compost my own feces! No, I will not "dumpster dive" for produce! And no, I will not give kids crappy toys! Yet, that is exactly what FAO Schwartz is asking me to do. Meet Violet:

What the hell is Violet? Is that what you are asking? Why, it's a "chunky, quirky guide"for your child's imagination, of course. Yeah, I thought it looked like an unfinished weeble too. Can you imagine the look on your child's face when they open the box on Christmas morning and find this inside? And imagine how their joy will explode when you tell them that it's made out of "recycled sawdust and reclaimed plastic." Wow, dull and made out of garbage. What kid wouldn't want to snuggle in bed with Violet? I bet she's scratchy.

The only thing about Violet that resembles other toys from FAO Schwartz catalogs of yore is how much she costs. How much would you pay for this little piece of heaven that "smells like wood?" Keep in mind she's only four inches high. Yep, 12 dollars. I wonder if they recycle any of the money people spend on this thing to make good toys.

Do you think FAO Schwartz realizes that this toy will have the exact opposite effect they want it to have? What kid is going to value environmentalism if it means taking all the fun out of their lives? In twenty years when our children are trying to fuel their Hummer Deluxe Mega vehicles with baby seal oil they will have one word to explain themselves: Violet.

Of course, if FAO Schwartz had Bob Mackie dress Violet, well, that's a different story.

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One More Week

Editor's Note: Just re-read this and realized it's a bit of a rant. I could change it, but I won't. I'm sick.

For the past two days I have been poured on to my couch, mindlessly flipping through channels while waiting for the sweet kiss of death to save me from this flu. I have watched "The Bourne Ultimatum" at least twice and decided that it actually should have been called "Crash, crash, punch, punch." I have watched cooking shows that Food TV only shows at 8 in the morning, because they were produced in someone's basement and use roadkill as a main ingredient. I have watched kids shows that look like acid flashbacks. And I have watched news. Oh, how I have watched news. And all of the news I have watched has convinced me of one thing: everyone must get out and vote for Obama, and encourage others to do the same.

You see, right now Obama has a comfortable lead in the polls. Things are looking good. Democrats are ordering tuxedos for inauguration parties, and making plans to get that Cheney smell out of the drapes in the White House. The thing is though, there is still time to lose this election. And getting too cocky is just one way to do it.

I can just see it on election day. Obama is ahead at least nine points in the polls. Democrats are happy, and excited. They go to the polls and see the long lines. They think "oh, well, if all these people are here voting for Obama I can go play hacky sack" and take off. But, little do they know that all of the people in those lines have been transported there from senior centers and conservative Christian day camps. And they are all voting for John McCain. That night Democrats will watch in horror as their worst nightmare comes true: John McCain wins, but then has a heart attack from the shock of it all, leaving Sarah Palin to assume the Presidency.

So, we all need to vote. I don't care how long the lines are. Take a book. Knit a sweater. Hold your breath. Just stay there until you get to cast your ballot. And before you do that? Tell someone about why they should vote for Obama.

I don't know if you have noticed, but as the election has gotten closer, people have gotten crazier about what they believe about Obama. The latest rumor is that he was born in Africa and wants to destroy America once elected. First of all, under the Constitution no one not born on U.S. soil can hold the office of presidency. Second, even if they could, why would being an immigrant instantly make someone anti-America? Isn't immigration kind of what the country was founded on? Great melting pot, anyone? Wouldn't someone who sought out living here maybe appreciate it even more? Okay, but that's beside the point. The point is that as these rumors get more and more ridiculous we can either laugh at them, or we can make sure others are not believing them. Laughing at them probably won't stop them from creeping into the minds of the uninformed in the voting booth though. So, it is important to dispel the rumors, wherever you hear them. On the bus. At the store. At the dinner table. From your crazy grandmother and her bridge club. If you hear someone spouting this nonsense, CORRECT THEM. Do it politely, but do it. If you don't the crazies spreading these lies win. And trust me, the stuff you will hear will only get crazier as the days wind down. You think calling Obama a socialist is bad? Just wait.

Oooooh, I think my head is about to explode. I juse have so much hope about this election, and so much fear that Obama won't win. Because if you think about it, there really is no reasonable explanation why he shouldn't. However, he still could. Bigotry, and ignorance could collide with overconfidence and laziness and cause an election day explosion that will launch McCain and Palin right into the White House.

We all just have to make sure that doesn't happen.

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Out of Order

I have nothing funny to say today, as I have the flu. All I can think about is chicken broth and trying to stay awake. If only I had a slanket... Hopefully I'll be back and better than ever tomorrow.

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What I Want For Christmas

We are moving into winter, which means things are about cold here in Utah. Damn cold. I am talking the kind of cold that goes all the way down to your bones, and then starts chilling your soul -- if you have one. The cold is especially evident in my house, given that it was built in 1915 and has windows made in that year. They are pretty, and keep put bugs, birds, and neighbors, but they do nothing to stop the cold. Also, we have hard wood and tile floors that get so cold sometimes I am almost convinced I am walking on an ice rink. Luckily though, there is something out there that can keep me from another winter of discontent -- and you can help, dear readers. I need a slanket.

I first saw this wonderful invention while browsing other blogs a few weeks ago. If I could remember where I saw it I would give a shout out, but I can't so instead I'll just beg for one of my own. You see, the slanket is an oversized blanket -- with sleeves. It's like a hug made out of acrylic. And it's only $44.95! If each of you chipped in a dollar you could buy me a slanket, pay for shipping, and have it gift wrapped! What else are you going to do with that dollar? Give it to the homeless? Don't be selfish. All you'll get out of that is a sense of self satisfaction. By buying me a slanket you'll get that -- plus I'll be warm AND fashionable. I don't even care what color, I'll trust you, my dear readers, enough to pick it out for me.

If you think about it, buying me a slanket is good for you too. If I am too cold to raise my hands from underneath my pile of blankets I won't be able to blog! So, there you'll be, in your warmer locations, waiting for your daily dose of Libby Logic, only to find it is on hiatus due to frozen fingers. And those of you who live here in Utah will be even worse off. Without my humor the winter weather will cause your hearts to grow cold and bitter. And we all know there is no slanket for the heart.

So, come on. Slanket me. You know you want to.

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Take Your Candidate to Work Day

When I apply for a job, I usually try to find out exactly what will be asked of me. It makes it easier to decide how much money I should ask for, and helps me gauge if I will actually get it. I would suggest that Sarah Palin may want to look into doing the same.



Um, No. While the Vice President oversee the Senate, and helps break tie votes, he or she does not help shape bills coming out of the body. It's in the Constitution. Now, I know Palin isn't a big fan of the document, and wants to amend it to outlaw homosexuality, and mandate drilling and polar bear slavery, but for right now she should at least pretend...

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The Biz

There are days when my job seems like the most mundane thing in the world. I feel like I am just writing the same stories (economy, election), seeing the same people, making the same jokes, and trying to avoid the same mistakes day after day. On Friday I amazed an intern by telling her everything that was going to happen, before it happened. Who was going to walk in, what they were going to say, what they were going to do, and in some cases, what they would be wearing. And I'm not even all that observant. Sometimes I make Ryan wear a name tag. It's just that I have been sitting in the same place, doing the same thing, while others do their same things, for a long time. It's like Bill Murray said in "Groundhog Day": "Maybe God isn't omnipotent, maybe he's just been around for a really long time."

Of course, there are also days when I am reminded of just what a unique, and some would say disturbing, job I have. I've already had two of those this week. On Monday I came in to find the office papered with pictures of a strange looking man, with the warning that he is "stalking employees." Apparently he thinks that our news organization I biased, and is doing everything in his power to make sure we know it. That would be great, if he wasn't trying to follow people home. Luckily, if anyone were to recognize me as an employee of the station they would have to be telepathic, or really, really, pathetic. Still, it put me on edge a bit.

Then today the reporter for my show went to cover a story in a neighboring city, and went to the police station to get information. While she was there her photographer went into the bathroom, and was followed by a man who said he needed help. The photog went to get help, and when a cop went to the bathroom he found the man had shot himself in the head. Now, I'm not sure, but I think having to be involved in a police investigation isn't a normal part of a job. And yet, no one in the office thought the situation was all that strange. Sad, but not strange.

Yeah, I know, those stories aren't going to make anyone rush out and apply for a job at a television news station. But they remind me of something very important -- what I do matters. People see it and respond to it. Also, often we are the first ones to know about things -- so how we present them later on is important. It may sound like I am being high and mighty but in fact it makes me feel very humble. This job, that sometimes seems like nothing more than a job, means something to people. I shouldn't lose sight of that. Even when I am counting he seconds until my day is over and writing my fiftieth economy story while wondering if Jed is going to wear his orange tie because it's Wednesday. I can still bitch about it -- I just shouldn't forget.

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Fun With Nature

Chances are you are familiar with the marsh plant known as a cattail. If you haven't seen one up close, you have probably seen a picture, or a painting (most likely also featuring ducks), or a children's drawing where they are featured because they are really easy to draw. If you have seen none of the above, probably because you have been living in a bubble, this is what cattails look like.

Ah, yes, very pretty, but that's not my point. Until this weekend I had no idea how awesome these little seed pods are to play with. I have grown up around them my entire life and had no clue. In fact, my seven year old niece had to fill me in. I guess that's why they say children are the future. Behold, the exploding cattail:

I know, it's awesome. I went all up and down the row of them, just popping them open, and helping to propagate the next generation of cattails. I even got a picture of one mid-explosion.

Doesn't it remind you of something out of "Little Shop of Horrors?" It looks like it's about to sing. Oh, if only everything in nature was this enjoyable. Then I would actually think of becoming an environmentalist because I wanted to, and not because of guilt. Really, the Sierra Club should jump on this now. Of course, I guess hundreds of people going out into fragile ecosystems to molest plants probably isn't what they are going for. Well, it's a good plan B.

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Vote Sarah Palin!

Sarah Palin is not funny. I think we all discovered that with this weekend's edition of "Saturday Night Live." She was stiff, she looked unhappy, and she had no sense of play. Despite that though, some people are determined to try and find the good in her appearance on the show. My co-worker Candice is one of those people. This morning, despite my numerous objections, she insisted that Palin had to be given credit for going on the show at all. She said her appearance showed she is a good sport. Whatever. I said if she was going to do it, she should have at least tried to look happy about it. Candice then dismissed my opinion, saying that there is nothing Sarah Palin could do in order to change my opinion of her. Now, that stung. I like to think of myself as an open-minded person, even if I'm probably not. Now I feel I must do something to save my reputation. So, here, for Candice, is a very special list of five.

Five Ways Sarah Palin Could Change My Opinion of Her and Make Me Re-think My Vote

1. She Could Promise to Leave the Constitution Alone This is the thing that bugs me about extremely conservative Republicans is that they say they want smaller government, but then try to change the very fundamentals of it. Palin is no different. Just this weekend she said she supports a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage -- a move her own running mate has called "antithetical in every way to the core philosophy of Republicans." Also, it doesn't make sense in the historical context of the Constitution. The last time it was modified to deal with a social issue was prohibition. How did that work out? Oh, yeah, it didn't.

2. She Could Go Off-Script Honestly, if Palin were to speak off the cuff, AND MAKE SENSE; I might be so shocked that I would be too confused not to vote for her. Everything she says is so obviously written for her by someone else, and she is so obviously afraid to speak for herself, that it makes it very easy to question her ability to think for herself. And I know, "it's about the people she picks to surround her in office that count." But how can Palin be depended on to pick the right people, when she can't even pick her own words.

3. She Could Start Pronouncing the Letter G The suffix is “ing” not “in’.” I know that she does this to appear more “folksy,” and appeal to “average Americans,” but I know lots of Americans, most of them average, and few of them consistently speak as if they are going to a hoedown. They aren’t stupid, and should not be addressed as such. Actually, this one goes for McCain and Obama too. Biden is the only leading candidate I haven’t heard trying to talk like a hick to win votes.

4. She Could Stop Lying Yes, all of the candidates tell half-truths, but Palin’s are just so obvious and egregious. Alaska is NOT the primary domestic supplier of oil and gas to the U.S., she did NOT say “thanks but no thanks” to the bridge no nowhere, and she was NOT exonerated by an ethics investigation into the firing of her public safety commissioner. There are others, but I don’t want to go overboard, after all, I’m looking on Sarah Palin’s bright side. Let’s just say that if she were honest enough to admit the truth in these and other situations, own up to not necessarily doing the right thing, and talk about what she might do differently in the future, that would be the most presidential thing anyone has done in this election. Of course, someone would have script it for her first.

5. She Could Explode I'm not totally heartless. If she exploded I would feel bad and possibly give her a pity vote. I live in Utah, which will go Republican anyway, so it wouldn't matter anyway, so I could do that.

Wow, five ways Sarah Palin could change my mind about her and possibly win my vote. I didn’t think I would make it. Of course, none of these things will happen, and I doubt Sarah Palin really wants me, or people like me, to vote for her. I don’t even think she wants people like Candice – since she is a part of the “media elite.” And after Candice has done for her… What an ingrate. Yet another reason to vote Obama/Biden.

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Playing Well With Others

So, I have been tagged. This has never happened to me before. It's so unexpected. I have to admit, that during my time in blogland I have watched with a kind of detached, bemused, jealousy as bloggers asked each other questions, initiating each other into a club that everyone wants to join, but no one wants to admit to. Now that I am among the ranks of the tagged I will try to use my power for good, and not for evil. It's going to hard though, since this tag came from Calicobebop. who is a blogger I really like, and it comes with bling (at right) showing just how awesome I am. If this tagging is any indication I might have up to 55 readers by the end of the week.

Of course, as we ll know, nothing comes for free, not even blog tags. I have to work for my acclaim. Damn it, why can't this be easier! I have to answer a series of questions using just one word (um, yeah, who can really do that?) and then tag seven OTHER people. Well, I guess I know seven other bloggers I like. It's just a question of whether or not they will admit to knowing me...

And now to the questions...

Where is your cell phone? Purse
Where is your significant other? Fishing
Your hair color? Blondish
Your mother? Funny
Your father? Funny-ish
Your favorite thing? Boots
Your dream last night? Buggy (Really, it was gross. A book that turned into maggots and beetles that could not be killed with a hair dryer. And my sisters were no help at all. Bitches.)
Your dream/goal? Waiting
The room you’re in? Sunny
Your hobby? Humor
Your fear? Death (Um, doesn't everyone? think of your greatest fear... Bet you can trace it back to death.)
Where do you want to be in 6 years? Happy
Where were you last night? Couch
What you’re not? Tall
One of your wish-list items? Plumbing
Where you grew up? Utah
The last thing you did? Shopping
What are you wearing? Crocs (Hell, yeah! Take that Croc haters!)
Your TV? Off
Your pet? Fishing
Your computer? Laptop
Your mood? Pensive
Missing someone? Tara (Don't tell her that, though. I'll never hear the end of it.)
Your car? Filthy
Something you’re not wearing? Tiara
Favorite store? Grocery or book
Your summer? Hot
Love someone? Ryan
Your favorite color? Blue
When is the last time you laughed? This afternoon
Last time you cried? Friday night

Wow, that was harder than I thought. At least I only commented on a few of them. I could have written a paragraph on each, and bored you all senseless, but I didn't. See how considerate I am? No wonder someone loves my blog. I rock.

So, now I am sending this on to Sarah, Ellen, Wendy, Susanne, Valerie, Sarah II, and Jon. I'm betting three out of four of them do it, and the others just roll their eyes... After all, even in the world of blogging there are kids "too cool for school." Luckily, I'm not too cool for anything...

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An Open Letter to Oliver Stone

Dear Oliver,

If Barack Obama loses this election, lots of people will blame lots of things. Some will blame racism. Some will blame stupidity. Sarah Silverman will blame the Jews. And I, if Barack Obama loses, I will be blaming you.

You see, opening tomorrow is your latest attempt to make people think of you as a groundbreaking film maker: "W." Really, though, it's just going to piss people off and make you look like a douchebag. And, even worse, it could help John McCain. Because, even though you say this is not a "political movie" (yeah, and "Frosty the Snowman" isn't a Christmas flick), people will view it as so. They will see it, they will view it as just another example of the Hollywood elite picking on the retarded, they will remember the cute way Sarah Palin said "say it ain't so, Joe" and they will vote Republican.

I admire your ambition, Oliver, really I do. Not in your filmaking, but in your desire to be the jerk who pushes the Democrats out of the "win" column once and for all. I mean, Barbara Striesand took a shot at it and couldn't do it, and she's usually political kryptonite. So, if you can do it? Jerk hall of fame.

Now, I know what you're thinking Oliver, "but people don't even like the President. This film will be cathartic for them. It could actually help Obama. " To answer that argument I have three words for you: my sister Amanda. You see, Oliver, when I was growing up my sister and I HATED each other. We would get into fights that rivaled gang warfare. My Mother practically had to pat us down for weapons when we entered and left the house. It was ugly. And the only thing I hated more than my sister? People picking my sister. If it was a fair fight, I was cool with it, and usually would root for the other person. But if I felt she was being unfairly attacked? I was like a four foot nine ball of fury. Oliver, people are going to view your film as an unfair attack, and they are going to use whatever is in their power to fight back. That probably will include their vote.

I could be completely off base here. People could go see your movie and stream into the streets chanting "Oliver! Oliver!" However, I doubt that. You see, by portraying the President as a boob you are also, in a way, calling the people who voted for him boobs as well. That's more than 50 percent of registered voters in the last election. Now, I'm sure lots of people have called you a boob (and worse) in your lifetime. Did it make you feel good? I bet not. I bet it made you want to fight and buy a d gun, and oppress the rights of gays and females. I think you see my point.

There is no way to stop your movie from coming out tomorrow. I'm sure the film canisters are already at the theaters. Just know though, that I am watching the polls. If, come Monday, Obama's numbers are down, I don't care if he french kissed William Ayers at a weekend rally, I am blaming you. And if he loses? You go on the list -- right next to Ralph Nader.

Regards,

Libby

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STFU

There are millions of chat rooms on the Internet. I mean, really, you name a hobby/condition/obsession/fetish and there are at least seventy "forums" for each one. And all of them have been infiltrated by porn spam ads. But that isn't my point. My point is the fact that these chat rooms have a varying degree of annoyance about them. Weight Watchers? Extremely high. Mechanical Engineering? Low, boring, but low. Scrapbooking? I shudder to think. Without a doubt though, the most annoying chat rooms are filled with women trying to conceive.

Ryan and I are among the couples trying to conceive right now. We don't talk about it a lot, just enough to make everyone uncomfortable. But the women in these chat rooms? That is ALL they talk about. Yes, I realize that they are in trying to conceive chat rooms, so that is what they should be talking about, but I have a feeling these women are like this in real life too. One reason? They all seem to know each other. They start and then pick up conversations. Gross conversations, like about cervical mucus. I don't even like to discuss cervical mucus with my doctor. If she wants to talk about it I make her send me a registered letter. At least then I have time to prepare myself.

Another reason? They speak in short hand. Annoying short hand. For instance: BD. What, you ask, is BD? "Baby Dance." Oh, if that isn't clear enough for you (it wasn't for me), it actually means sex. Yes, these women can talk about mucus, but they can't type intercourse. Also, every partner is referred to as "DH," for "Dear Husband." First of all, that assumes that everyone has a husband, and not a boyfriend, or lover, or turkey baster involved in the process. Also, why does the husband always have to be "dear?" I love my husband, but sometimes he is a real jerk. Also, why can't he have a name? All of the women have names (even if they are just lame handles like wannbeamomma54), so why can't their partners have names? You know, something like "slowswimmerz24."

I know you must be wondering why I know so much about these forums if they annoy me so much. Two words: Dr. Google. Every time I have a question about anything I always Google it, and it works to find deals on boots, so why not trust it for medical advice? And every time I Google anything fertility related at least one of these forums comes up. And I get sucked in. Then I wonder if I really want to breed if these are the people who will be the parents of my child's potential playmates. Because if that's the case I am going to get my tubes tied right now.

I think I might have to start a forum for women trying to conceive that don't suck. Women who can type out whole words, and use details, but know when too much information is being given. Women who don't always like their husbands, and who understand that the prospect of giving up wine is not exactly a good thing. Women who want to get pregnant, but at the same time like their lives, are a little freaked about the actual idea of a baby, and realize that having a child, while an exciting proposition, is not the holy grail of womanhood.

I wonder if chat rooms for pregnant women are even more annoying? God, I hope not. I have a bad feeling about that though...

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Very Unhappy Cat

When I was a child I loved to dress up my cat, Binky. He would scratch, and bite, and plot my death, but I thought he just looked so cute in clothes meant for Cabbage Patch dolls. Of course, as I got older, I grew out of humiliating my pets (well, almost, Sally still has to dress up for the Christmas card, but that will be awesome). Unfortunately, some people still think of their pets as furry models, and some of them are trying to make a living out of it on Etsy.
I guarantee that if this cat had thumbs the person taking the picture would no longer be alive. Instead, I bet the photographer found her favorite sweater covered with hair, her sofa shredded, and poop in her shoes.

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Monkeys

Note: I would have had more pictures for this post if my camera would have co-operated...

Lately things have been gong well in the Libby/Ryan household. Not a lot of stress, pretty prosperous (except for our 401ks), lots of laughter, and good friends. Really, it's been like a fucking International coffee commercial. So, we starting thinking of what we could break the calm, and decided on inviting all of of nieces and nephews over for a sleepover. All six of them. Ranging in age from six months to nine years. Yes, we should probably be committed. Surprisingly though it turned out well. And we didn't even need duct tape and tasers.

I think the key to the whole night was planning. Yes, some of my plans fell apart, but just the fact that I had a plan we could deviate from was crucial. Also, I like making plans, so suck it. We were going to make pizza, make cupcakes, paint pumpkins, pull out the couch bed, blow up the air mattress and then all blissfully fall asleep while watching "Meet the Robinsons." Then, we would get up in the morning, Ryan would go get bagels, I would get the kids dressed, and we would all head off to Clint's (9 year old) football game.

The first part of the plan to get tossed was the pumpkin painting. Apparently, everyone knows that you don't paint pumpkins -- you carve them. Unfortunately, pumpkins carved on October 10th end up looking like Larry King by Halloween. For a moment I panicked. I saw 45 to 90 minutes of unoccupied time stretching before us. I was sure someone would end up hurt, or crying, or both. And I was really afraid that person would be me. My mind was a complete blank. I could not think of a single thing to do with kids. I was about to say "scrimshaw" (first thing that came to mind), when Ashlyn piped up with the wonderful idea of playing with clay. They all loved it. And, as we all know, clay can be found at the local supermarket, unlike whalebone.

The next TWO HOURS (an eternity in kid time) were spent busily working with clay at the dining room table. Unicorns were made, and destroyed. Butterflies were created, and then returned to their clay cocoons. Every piece of cooking equipment I have that could be used for the sculpting of clay was gotten out and employed. The garlic press and egg slicer were the biggest hits. While they worked on their masterpieces I whipped up the cupcake batter, adding sprinkles for that "confetti" look that all of the kids insisted they had to have. Personally, I think it makes it look like someone threw up in the cake, and I prefer it if cake doesn't crunch between my teeth, but I knew my audience, and I was playing to them.

Once all the clay had been sculpted, eaten, or ground into the hardwood never to be seen again, it was time for pizza. Kids love making their own pizzas. I don't care if you make them out of cardboard, red paint, and leather scraps, if you let the kids make them, they will always say it is the best pizza they have ever tasted. Actually though, these really weren't bad. Who knew frozen dough and Ragu could be such a taste treat? We did have a bit of a problem when the kids decided to graze on the toppings while I rolled out the dough. I had no idea a package of pepperoni could be devoured so quickly. Ryan was sent to the store for more, so that no one would have to subsist on just cheese. I mean, except me, but I am a really picky eater.

After dinner it was time to decorate the crunchy, yet colorful, cupcakes. The kids piled on enough icing to choke a horse, and then we topped them with "edible" princess and sports decals. At least, I guess they were edible -- in the same way paper is considered edible. I think the clay they all consumed earlier was better for them, and probably better tasting. Still, they looked cool, so no one was willing to eat a cupcake without one. Of course "eat" was a loosely applied term in this case -- as most of the kids just picked off the decal, licked off the icing, took two bites of the cake, and then threw the rest away.

I was really expecting a sugar fueled rampage after the cupcakes, and was preparing to put on my catcher's mask and cardboard body armor when a strange thing happened -- the kids got tired. They all piled onto the sofa bed, got quiet, and curled into each other to watch TV. To tell the truth, I was actually kind of disappointed. But, as Ryan pointed out, I wouldn't poke a sleeping tiger (I mean, not if someone was looking), so the best idea was just to let the kids quiet down. We blew up the air mattress, tucked them all in, and headed to bed.

Sigh. I love those kids. I mean, I love them if I only think about Friday night. On Saturday morning they were a pain in the ass. First of all, I had to get up at 7:30 -- ON A SATURDAY. Then, I had wake them up, get them dressed, and get them to eat. Yeah, it sounds easy, but I think giving a root canal to a hippo would have been easier. Every request was met with disdain and reluctance. Ashlyn didn't like bagels. Clint didn't want to get dressed. Shaylee saw no point in wearing shoes. And Kaedyn wanted a second cup of coffee. I honestly cannot explain exactly how we finally got out the door. I seem to recall stuffing everything that looked kid related into bags, and then stuffing those bags in the back of the car.

It only took a half an hour to put the house back together after we got home from the game. I still find that hard to believe since it looked like a tornado had gone through. Of course, I still keep finding little pieces of clay, and cupcake sprinkles in unlikeliest of places. I mean, which one of them was going through my lingerie drawer? Of course, that could have been Ryan...

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Technical Difficulties

I really want to post. I have so much to say. Unfortunately, my modem is crapping out and will only connect to the Internet in short, manic bursts. Hopefully, it will be up and running in the next few days. If not, I will be throwing it through the window of the cable company while screaming obscenities. I think we all hope it doesn't come to that...

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Things I Never Knew...

Tonight Ryan and I were sitting on the couch, watching television when he asked me to turn to BBC America. I did, and found they were showing "Sex Change Soldier." He claimed he just wanted to watch the news, which was on next. Um, yeah, sure...

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Same Old Sad Song

The economic crisis is affecting everyone, not just the people about to lose their homes, or the Wall Street tycoons who may not be able to give solid gold backscratchers to all of their servants this Christmas. I certainly am feeling it. I feel when I buy gas, or groceries, or even wine (god forbid). I feel it when I see friends lose jobs, and not find new ones immediately, because no one is hiring. I feel it when I look at my 401k and see it has fallen by 15 percent in a month. But, mostly, I feel it because it has made my job boring.

Now, first off let me say I am thankful to even have a job. They have been threatening to replace me with a typing monkey for years -- a mute one that won't take vacations. But I am soooo tired about writing about the economy. Every day writing the same words, in basically the same order, telling the viewer the same thing -- grab your ankles, because you are fucked.

I try to make it interesting. I substitute the word "rescue" for the word "bailout," the word "deal" for "package, " the word "'motherfuckers" for "Wall Street CEOs." But it doesn't get any better. Sisyphus would have quit by now and gone back to the rock. And it isn't going to get better any time soon. For at least the next two months I will be reporting the same story, only it may get worse and worse.

Honestly, I am beginning to understand why people prefer to be ill informed. Being informed is painful. And trying to inform people? While making it understandable? And somewhat interesting? Yeesh. It makes me wish for fires, or natural disasters. Not really bad one where people get hurt, but ones where enough damage is done that it's interesting. Damage covered by insurance, of course, Wait, insurance companies could be going bankrupt because of the economic crisis. DAMN YOU WALL STREET!!!!

The Presidential candidates could make things easier for me, but they don't seem to understand that we live in a digital age where every speech they make is transmitting across the country. If McCain and Obama would just change up their speeches, and give me more to work with, that would be great. But they don't. They both say the same things, in the same inflections, at every rally, speech, ribbon cutting, and baby kissing. A great 15 second sound bit is wonderful -- for 15 seconds. After that, I have no use for it -- and I have to fill an hour. I'm telling you, I might vote Republican if McCain starts changing it up. I know Palin can't, they only record her voice track once a day -- like Teddy Ruxpin.

I'm a little worried that I am going to "go postal" in the television sense and start making things up. Or start setting little fires. Or start using items off Perez Hilton. A whole block about how Lindsey Lohan was kidnapped by lesbian aliens, who may or may not be responsible for the blaze burning by the Great Salt Lake. At least I would enjoy writing it. That story wouldn't include the word "bailout."

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Waiting in the Wings

Ever since he was born, Luke has had a flair for the dramatic. In the first few years of his life it exhibited itself through hypochondria, imaginative play, and a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and it was especially evident in any situation where he wasn't getting his way. There was one day in Toys R Us when I actually thought he was going to die if he did not get the Transformer I was refusing to buy him. Really, I was worried. His breath was shallow, and his eyes were rolled back into his head as he cried and writhed upon the floor. I was sure I had thrown him into an Optimus Prime induced seizure. Sarah Berhardt couldn't have done it better. However, the second I gave in, the act was off. It was as if someone had yelled cut, and Luke was off to the craft services table, hungry from a job well done. It was actually worth the price of the Transformer just to see such a show. Of course, it would have been nice if the other people who stood to watch while thinking I was the worst person ever had chipped in as well.

Lately Luke's love for the theatrical has found it's natural home: theater. Lucky for him his Mom and other Aunt work for the local theater syndicate, meaning there is no shortage of shows for him to see. Over the past year (since he got old enough to sit through an entire show) Luke has seen numerous touring companies during their stops in Salt Lake, and in the days after he has imitated each and every one of them. After "Stomp" he was all about pounding on garbage can lids, and rhythmically sweeping the floor. He also assumed he didn't have to bathe any more for some strange reason. Once he saw the "Blue Man Group" we had to go to Home Depot and spend 50 dollars on PVC pipe, which I then spent hours making into a tube drum backpack. The only problem? It weighted more than he did. He could put it on, but he had to laying down. Oh, and after "Annie" he wanted to be put up for adoption. All of that pales though with the awfulness of his latest theatrical obsession: "Cats."

First of all, let me just get something out of the way -- I hate "Cats." The music is okay in small doses, like in an elevator or on an easy listening station. However, more than one song is way too much. And the whole show? It makes me want to drive skewers into my ear drums. When Mandy told me it was coming last month and asked if Ryan and I wanted tickets I could only shake my head in abject horror. Luke went twice. He loved it both times. Now? He wants to live it.

He has the t-shirt. Which he wears. And wears. And wears. And wears. He made sure to wear it on the day of school pictures. He makes sure to wear it when we are going anywhere "special." And he tells everyone we run into exactly why he is wearing it, how wonderful "Cats" really is, which cats are his favorite, and which cat he is going to play when he is eventually in the show. Then those people just look at my family and shake their heads in abject horror.

Please, put them to sleep.

Since, he is going to be in the show eventually, Luke feels he has to practice -- all the time. This involves someone singing his favorite song from the show, "Mr. Mistofelees," while he dances. Oh, and he is very specific about how the song must be sung, and how his performance must go. If someone (say me) messes up a word, we have to start over. If he makes his entrance too late (and he does make an entrance, every time), then it's back to the beginning. Also, if everyone (Ryan) in the audience isn't paying attention the show cannot go on. It's actually pretty cute -- for the first 45 minutes. Of course, I try to be as patient as possible with him since I remember doing to exact same thing myself as a child. I didn't have anyone sing a soundtrack for me, but I blocked "South Pacific" and "Funny Girl" in my parents basement a million times. And every time I was the star. I never even thought about 'Cats" though. Why would I want to be in a show where my face wasn't fully visible?

The other night Luke and Mandy were over, and I was (once again) getting tired of belting out "Mr. Mistofelees" for all of my neighbors to hear. So, I mentioned to Luke that if he wanted we could download the cast recording of "Cats" from iTunes. I thought I was being helpful. I had no idea what I was really doing. Now, not only does he have the t-shirt, and the dance moves, he also has the music -- which he plays, and plays, and plays, and plays. Last night Mandy called to "thank" me for downloading he album, saying that she hadn't heard anything not composed by Andrew Lloyd Weber in 48 hours. Then my Dad called tonight to say the same thing. Apparently everywhere he goes now Luke makes sure people are not only aware of how much he loves "Cats" -- he tries to make sure they love it too. The only way to do that? By making them listen to it. Thank God he hasn't been over here since I gave him that disk.

Now we're all just waiting for the next show to come through town and steal his heart. I mean, as long as it isn't more annoying than "Cats." For instance, I wouldn't want him prancing around with a paper plate over half of his face, while he tries to abduct annoying opera singers. I'm thinking something quiet, and with no merchandising tie-ins. Do Tibetan monks go on tour? I'll have my sisters check into it.

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What To Say...

Damn you Katie Couric. By making Sarah Palin look so bad in your little interviews, tonight you made her look good. And she should not have looked good.

Palin directly answered not one question. She got close on the Iran/Pakistan issue, but just as she was to address the heart of the query, and get specific, she backtracked and went into generalities. And when she was really out of it, she just started talking about her life in Alaska and throwing about the word "Maverick." Oh, and at one point she asked Gwen Ifill to cut her some slack because she's only been at this for "five weeks."

She also contradicted herself over and over again. When Biden talked about the Bush administration it was "looking backward" but she had no problem bringing up Democratic foibles over and over again. She also talked about how more regulation is needed for Wall Street, but not two minutes later was talking about how private industry must be given more freedom. Huh? What does she think Wall Street is? Oh, and if conservatives want to get their ire up, listen to her response about same sex partnership. She basically said she agrees with Biden, and that while same sex marriages should not occur, domestic partnerships should.

I could go into her pronunciation and grammar, but I won't. It just makes me shake. I will just say -- the word is "feel" not "fill."

Biden was not perfect. He avoided the questions about how he differed from Barack Obama, what promises the administration would not be able to fulfill, and wavered on his support of the war. However, he at least tried, and didn't keep going back to rhetoric.

Of course, Biden had to look perfect, which he did not. So, tomorrow, I think Palin will be declared the winner, and people will be talking about how "well spoken" she was, and how "surprisingly erudite" she was (she'll have to look that word up). The bar was set low for her, and she vaulted over it. Anyone would have, including me and Tara. I think this debate may actually give the ticket a bounce.

I hope you're happy, Katie.

Side note: Who did her blush? Grace Jones?

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Junk Mail

Ryan likes to go fishing. I like to buy him fishing related things for birthdays and other occasions. This, unfortunately, usually means I have to go to stores that specialize not only in fishing, but also hunting, boating, and even spitting (no, really, have you ever been to Cabelas?). These stores, like all others, have sold my personal information to other stores they think I might be interested in. At least, I think that has happened. How else can I explain how this ended up in my mailbox:
I really doubt my contributions to the Human Rights Campaign sparked the interest of the "Smoky Mountain Knife Works." After all, this is a catalog that carries TWELVE PAGES of items that cannot be sold in "California, Massachusetts, and anywhere legislators have more sense than guns." That isn't Utah, so I sat down with the catalog and my credit card, ready to order some knives. After all, it is almost Christmas, and who wouldn't want a stocking of weapons? I mean, add kids cracked on candy canes, and parents with a little too much nog in them, and you have a holiday to remember...

I found the perfect gift for my Dad right away...

Or this one if he's feeling fancy...

This would be perfect for Tara. After all, how often am I going to find a gift "as tough" as she is? I mean, unless I happen to find a ninja hamster breeder...

And finally, a gift that seems to be made for my Mom, the hardest person to buy for on my list. Finally, something that says "I think you are a really talented teacher" but doesn't include fake school kid writing, or illustrations of pencils and apples. I mean, I guess I could have those stenciled on, but it would probably be extra.

You can whack AND punch with it. What a multi-tasker.

Now, I know I am coming off sarcastic, but I think I am really going to order something from ole Smoky Mountain, even though Ryan is upset that they don't feature nunchucks, and only one type of ninja star. After all, I do live in Utah, and after my ATV adventure this weekend I am thinking I should start embracing the culture more. Also, I just want to see what catalogs will come once they sell my info. I'm betting taxidermy and home schooling. Or maybe one that features breeders for that elusive ninja hamster.

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The Smell of Desperation

I am a blog whore. I admit it. If I can mention the fact that I have a blog in casual conversation, I do. If there is a place I can post my blog url, I do. Any time I can give my blog a plug, no matter how small, or how sad it makes me look -- I do. For instance the other day my boss was talking about how pathetic bloggers are and said "everyone wants to be famous for 15 people." I replied "15? I get at least 40 a day! And you too can check it out at www.LibbyLogic.com!" Yes, he might be re-thinking hiring me, but my sitemeter went up to 41. I consider that a victory.

I think you can understand then why I love the following poster...

The only way it could speak to me more is if it said "Blogging: feel creative without giving up being lazy." Then there is this t-shirt -- from the same site...

See, I could take that personally, but the number isn't 41. It did give me a great idea though, LibbyLogic t-shirts. Soon, my boobs will be telling the world about my site -- even when my mouth isn't .

Now, forward this to all your friends and tell them how fabulous it is. I'll give you each a cookie if you do...

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