We got W.T.'s first pre-school pictures last week. I don't remember having my picture taken like this in preschool, but, then again, I guess I really don't remember much about preschool in general, so there you go.



The individual picture is WONDERFUL. I know I'm biased, but we've got one darn cute little boy. He's going to be a heartbreaker... who am I kidding, he already IS a heartbreaker:


We got the smallest package they offered; our family is small, so I didn't think we needed 2-8x10, 4-5x7, 6-3x5, 32 wallets, 4 photomagnets and a keychain. Every package included a group shot of the entire class, though... a group shot of all 15 kids and the 2 teachers that bravely try to keep them under control from 9:30 am to 12:00 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This shot will go down in history. I would post the entire photo here if I weren't afraid that one of the other parents would somehow stumble upon my blog someday and then sue me for invading the privacy of their child. Several of the children in the picture look as if they have to use the potty. One girl is grimacing as if she's been poked by a cattle prod. Very few of them are actually looking at the camera. Then there's my boy...

We have no earthly idea what the issue was here. Every time I look at it, I want to hug him. Years from now, when these kids are all grown, they'll be pulling out this picture and saying, "Oh yeah, remember the little boy in preschool who..."

Dyson Rocks

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, Dyson is marketing a PINK version of their marvelous vacuum cleaner. For every pink model sold, they're $40 to help breast cancer research, and they're also giving one away to lucky blogger. My mother-in-law has a Dyson, which I borrowed several times after our old vacuum exploded, before buying a new one. I am not exaggerating when I say that was probably the best vacuum I've ever used. It sucked so much dirt out of my carpet it was frightening.

Check out The Domestic Diva Blog to enter the contest.

Life and death and everything in between

I'm thinking I really need to post something of substance before all of you abandon me. Oh, the conundrum of balancing what I want to be doing with what I have to be doing. I absolutely despise having to make the choice, as I'm sure most people do.

Where to start... where to start...

We were away from home most of the weekend. Saturday was a picnic at the house of one of the weird cousins from the husband's family. I wish I could adequately put the weirdness into words, but it really is something that must be experienced first-hand. Katie would have a family get-together every weekend, if it were up to her. She told us as we were leaving that next year's Fall gathering would be a costume party, so be prepared. Pam, married for the first time at the age of 50-something this past summer, pulled me aside for a 25 minute conversation on what I thought of seeing her transgender step-daughter (formerly her step-son) at the wedding. (A little background - I used to manage a small bookstore in my hometown. The man she married used to come in this store regularly with his first wife and their 2 kids, a boy and a girl. I also used to sell him some of the more hardcore selections from our rack of adult magazines, which of course comes into my head everytime I see him. He wears red, high-top Converse sneakers always, and probably 10 gold chain bracelets on each arm. Ick.) I told her honestly that I felt a little bad for Ann (formerly Chris) at the wedding, because you could tell that she felt rather awkward. I told her that it's hard enough to get through this life being fairly certain of your identity, but that I can't imagine how hard it would be dealing with figuring something like that out, and that I thought Ann is showing a lot of courage doing what she's doing. She (the cousin) said several times during the conversation, "We just tell anyone that asks about it that we support her... him... I mean her, and that we still love her." I really wanted to ask, "Are you trying to convince the people you say this to, or yourself?" but I didn't.

Sunday we spent a good bit of the day with my in-laws (joy, joy!). They returned last week from six weeks at their timeshare in Florida, which included a one week cruise to the Bahamas. We got the full, blow-by-blow story of my father-in-law's two-day bout with constipation. I will spare you the details, but will suggest that if you ever go on a cruise, take your own Ex-Lax. Apparently the infirmary doesn't stock enough. In the end (ouch... bad choice of words?), he paid $45 for a bottle of the same stuff they make you drink to clean you out before a colonoscopy. Why the cruise ship stocks plenty of this over Ex-Lax is a mystery.

And to the person who sent pictures of their dildo to my cell phone this weekend...

THANKS FOR SHARING!

That's all I'm saying...

Obviously I've missed my calling...

The quote, in case you can't read it, says "I wish for just one moment YOU COUD BE ME.. just so you know how much I love you. (Donna Beaupre)"

My new addiction?

Digital scrapbooking.

I blame the woman that sits behind me at work (not to be confused with the woman who used to sit in the cubicle behind me).

Behold...

I did this in about 20 minutes.

I'm in so much trouble...

It is Friday afternoon.

I'm at work.

I'm bored.

I have spent my day

1) working on a report that isn't due until next Wednesday
2) searching for a new hairstyle on thehairstyler.com (I'm going directly from work to get my hair cut today - yay!)
4) checking my e-mail

I am in love with http://www.thehairstyler.com/... mostly. I discovered it several years ago. To get to the really good stuff, you have to pay a fee - $9.95 USD for a 3-month membership. With this, you can (if you choose) upload a photo to try out hairstyles on, or you can search their model faces for one that fits your face-shape and skin tone. You can also enter information on your hair type, density, elasticity, and on and on, and it will pull selections that would best suit you, including celebrity hairstyles that match. This is where I start to question their judgement, though. Thus far, my celebrity hairstyle matches have included: Glenn Close (eh), Sharon Stone (not bad again), Angela Lansbury (old!), Ann Robinson (old and scary, from the picture they show!), Kathy Bates (not as old as Angela Lansbury and Ann Robinson, but still), and Judy Sheindlin (Judge Judy!!). Is someone trying to tell me it's time to face my age, or just that I have bad hair?

Either way, it's just a little cruel.

Why, why, why, why, why...

I've changed jobs. I may have mentioned this. Never fear, gentle readers, I am still at the Casa de Insurance, just in a different department now. I have given up the prestige of system testing for corporate complaints. It's really not as bad as it sounds. I'd hoped to be able to get a nice, juicy post about it up here before now, but there just aren't enough hours in the day.

One perk of this job is that I'm no longer sitting directly across the aisle from Right-Wing-Conservative-Girl (henceforth known as RWCG). She just really thinks we're closer than we actually are. Perhaps it's my fault. Perhaps I've led her on. I've tried not to. I don't share lots of personal things with her (or anyone I work with, for that matter)... but is it appropriate to say to someone, "Look, you're actually rather irritating. There's nothing I can do about the fact that I have to see you every day, but I'm really just not that interested in what goes on with your life outside the confines of these blue, fabric-covered walls. Can we keep the conversation to a superficial level, please? Thanks!" Probably not.

It's not as bad as it was, since I've moved to a different floor of the building. I actually sit now directly behind her boyfriend. He (perhaps unbelievably so) is a very likeable person, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why he's stayed with RWCG for as long as he has (3 1/2 years), but we'll save that for another time. I'm not assaulted now (usually) the second she walks in the door with whatever drama took place the night before. There is still, though, the instant messenger.

Heaven help me.

Today's first message of the morning, out of nowhere, with no warning, was:

RWCG... i'm having my first real period since my surgery....i have to say, i really enjoyed that 10 month break......not that you really wanted to know that, but hey

Really, folks. If you type or are about to type something, and you have to start or end your thought with 'Not that you really want(ed) to know this...' STOP IMMEDIATELY! There's a REASON that your brain is questioning what you're about to say!

I'm going to go wash my brain now.