Survey Says: Run and hide

Thank you all for your responses to my bat quandary.  I especially appreciate the sincerity in which most of you advised whoever might find themselves in this situation to run and hide in the bedroom/bathroom.

But I should be honest with you.  The situation I described wasn't entirely hypothetical.

It was actually 100%....actual.

I was the one who woke up to find the danged thing, I was the one wrestling an 80lb dog to the ground so he wouldn't go and catch himself some rabies, and I was the one who had to find some kind of solution so that we didn't end up fostering a colony of bat babies.

You're not surprised?

I guess I was able to provide a lot of details for a hypothetical situation.

But anyfranticmoment, here's the end of my bat fiasco:

In between rounds of fireworks and moments of panic I decided I should give this bat more opportunities to make an exit.  I had already opened two windows but thought maybe the door would be a bigger target.

One problem: the door is across the room.  As in, in direct line of the swooping.

So I wait.

The sucker starts his route.  Office, living room, office, living room, dining roomTIMETOMAKEARUNFORIT!!!  I shove Oliver in the direction of the front door, I follow and fling it open.  I set out a basket to keep it open and sprint toward my bedroom.

From there I could see the bat swooop around the office.  Every few minutes I'd walk toward the main area of our apartment hoping because I hadn't seen it the poor guy found his way out the window.

But then he'd swoop within inches of my head and I would scream and flail my way back to the bedroom.

This went on for 20 minutes.

Finally there was no more swooping.  I went through the entire apartment, turning lights on and off and making a real ruckus to scare him out of his hiding place, if in fact he was still inside somewhere.  When I didn't find anything I put a check in the win column, shut the windows and door and went to bed.

(Corey was out with his buds for this whole mess...)

This is where I hoped and prayed and hoped and hoped and prayed the story ended.  But....sigh....Corey found the bat later on in the day as he was packing up goodies to take to the Giants game.

It was hiding under a bag in our kitchen.

If you don't like hearing about the demise of any creature (raises hand) you might want to, oh I don't know, browse my etsy shop (shameless plug) at this time.  But I'm not even able to give too many details simply because I spent the entire time the poor bat was being disposed of in our bedroom with my head buried under a mountain of pillows.

But he was, um, eliminated.  And I now live in a crime scene.

So here I just get done saying how I'm glad to leave 2011 behind and then 2012 comes barreling in with terror and the cruel reality of death.  I'd be lying if I said I'm looking forward to what "surprises" this year holds.

But since there still is no way to tell what's a'comin', happy new year and here's to hoping everything goes exactly as planned!!

My Thoughts, Exactly: Unecessary Thriftiness

This post is brought to you by my straw hair, my clumpy eyelashes and my new daily struggle against disheveledness.

Hello friends.

Stacie, here.

Save-a-buck Stacie.

Sends-in-$2-rebates-and-waits-four-months-for-the-check Stacie.

Picks-up-quarters-off-the-street-but-just-quarters-because-it's-not-worth-risking-hepatitis-for-a-nickle....I'm thrifty is what I'm trying to say here.

I also don't get to the point quickly.

But anybaddecision, I ran out of a few beauty products two weeks ago:  shampoo, and mascara.  Usually I'll go a few weeks using Corey's man shampoo and stepping out into the world with naked eyelashes, but I felt ambitious.  So I took a lunch trip to Target.

This is what I decided to get for my hair. It said "professionals" on the bottle and I remembered the commercials showing salon hair-doers using it and thinking it was super expensive. I said to myself, I says, "Stace, you know commercials don't lie. And if those hair-doers say this stuff is the best in the world you just might want to give it a shot."

So I did.

And it's awful.

Imagine my shock when I found my $1.50 bottle of shampoo left my hair complete dry and frizzy and generally yucky.

My advice is to avoid Suave's 2 in 1 shampoo, unless hot mess is the look you're going for.

...

Now, in that same Target trip I meandered down the make-up aisle. I literally dread buying mascara (which is why I go so long before buying a tube each time I run out) because it is just too expensive.

Seriously. You stick black goop into a teeny tube with a mini toothbrush stuck to the lid. Why does that cost $15? With this latest mascara purchase I wanted to prove to myself and to the world that it doesn't make a difference whether you're spending $15 at Clinique or $4.29 on Cover Girl.

Here's another surprise: it actually does.

My new "professional" mascara goes on in four very clumpy layers and then only comes off if I pull the entire eyelash out of my skin.

Now, I'm no professional, but shouldn't this process be a little, I don't know, easier?

Or prettier??

Save yourselves. And your eyelashes. Find your nearest Clinique counter, but only during bonus time because that's the only time you can justify to your husband why you just spent $30 on a tube of mascara the size of a tampon (and not even the heavy flow kind) and a one ounce jar of foundation.

"But just look at all this free stuff!"

Stacie says: "Love your animals, Please!"

I've put my stamp on this day: it's not going to be good.

I'll make this quick because I'm a total emotional basketcase when it comes to most certain things.

Like animals.

Oh I love me some animals.  And I've had plenty: dogs, fish, a rabbit, a guinea pig, a turtle, some lizards, a couple birds, ducks, ferrets and probably more I'm forgetting.

And when I see even the slightest hint of mistreatment I'm affected.

I saw a guy yell at his puppy for barking and then yank up on his collar while walking in Saratoga Sunday and I had to call Corey in tears.  I don't know why I'm like this, but I am.  Corey definitely doesn't understand it.

And today is the worst of it: a friend of ours has an appointment this afternoon to put her dog to sleep.

Her perfectly healthy seven year old dog.

I'm not going for "misery loves company" here, I have a point.

This dog, Dierks Bentley, is a pit bull that lead a much different life before he found his permanent home with our friend.  He was abused and mistreated and taught to be aggressive.  They were his formative years and so he carried this aggression with him.

Corey and I looked after him not too long ago.  He's sweet and loves to play, walk and chase squirrels.  His only flaw, besides shredding expensive comforters, is this strong desire to attack other dogs.  He got that chance on Sunday.  Due to a situation beyond our friend's control Dierks came into contact with a small dog and killed it.

So now he is going to die.  This afternoon.  I tried as hard as I could to find a better alternative; rehabilitation or placement at a farm far, far, far away from other dogs but what I found is that there are thousands of pit bulls in this same situation just in our region every single week. 

And they are put down too.

This is too much for me, people.  I hope it is too much for you too.

You don't have to be like Corey and me and have a special blanket so your dog can climb up on the couch because the floor is just not soft enough or make special trips for the treats he really likes.  But you should, at the very least, show your animals the respect they deserve as contributing member of your household.  Because they do provide in some way; either through companionship, protection or entertainment.

To treat them any other way is cruel and always leads to pain further down the road.

Let people know that.

My Thoughts, Exactly: hair care

Is it just me or is everyone talking about new methods for green hair care and face wash?

Or maybe I just have bunches of blog friends who think just. like. me. in that they want to remove unnecessary and harmful chemicals from their daily lives.

...but not just like me in taste of music.

Jump Around?

House of Pain?

Anyone?

Anyone?

...

As I usually do, I jumped blindly onto the green beauty bandwagon.

Rub baking soda all over my head?

Dunk my hair in vinegar?!

You Know It!!

No, these are actually pretty popular methods of green cleaning.  And for most people they probably work just fine.

Maybe even better than your usual shampoo and conditioners.

But not for me.

Sigh.

I had high hopes thanks to Ashley and Kathryn, but it wasn't meant to be.

Or maybe I was just doing it wrong.

The first day I tried my new hair washing routine was last Wednesday.  Also known as the day before Thanksgiving.  I started out with a little over a tablespoon of baking soda, I made a little paste with water and rubbed it all over my head.  I missed the sloshiness of shampoo, but I wasn't sending weirdo chemicals down the drain and into my skin so I carried on.

I don't have overly greasy hair and I don't have dry hair, and this was the day after the day after I last washed my hair.  Normal for me.

My hair felt a little greasy.  I didn't exactly know what to expect so I went to the next step: apple cider vinegar conditioner.  I'd been conditioning this way for a week, ever since I ran out of my store bought conditioner.  I didn't notice a difference.

Yes I did.  The stuff stinks.  Real bad.  It's vinegar.  Luckily the smell goes away once my hair dries, but sometimes I let the day do the dryin' so I carry a pretty nasty smell with me to work.

By Thanksgiving morning I assessed the grease situation and thought I'd better do another "shampoo" because it was, after all, Thanksgiving and if I was going to be seeing a ton of relatives I needed to look my best.

I wasn't overly greasy, but there was more than I'm used to on day 2 of my normal hair washing schedule.

You see me as one big grease-ball now, don't you.

It gets better.

I get ready for my shower.  I "lather up" my baking soda and smear it all over my head.  I work it into my problem areas.  I rinse and "condition".  Then I go about my morning.

I spent the next few minutes bragging about my new "green" efforts to my friend and how cool it is to care about the environment.

Then I blow dried my hair.  You know, to be pretty.

When I run my hands through the back of my head I find enough grease to fry an egg.

Grrrooooooosssss.

Ohmigosh, ohmigosh what do I do??

...

First I felt stupid...and dirty.  Then I closed the door so my friend wouldn't find me and laugh.  My ultimate solution was to put a generous amount of water onto my hair and sweep it up into a tight bun.

"What happened?  I thought you dried your hair??"

"It didn't work out weshouldprobablygorightnow."

Of all days.  Sheesh! 

So now we have lovely pictures of all the cousins (and cousins-in-law, ahem) in our holiday best and me with my hair slicked back with nature's hair goo.

In conclusion...don't let my experience detract you from doing your duty to save our planet, just know all fantastic results are not typical.

...

Or maybe you should make sure you're doing it right in the first place.

I honestly still don't know if I was.  Whoopsie!

A Plea To All My Girlfriends

Hey ladies, can we stop trying to kill chivalry here?

Srsly.

I know we all think we can do anything the boys can do and we don't need nobody treating us like sissy girls who need a man to kill spiders and open up those tricky mayonnaise jars.

But, um...I can't do everything the boys can do.

And, uh....I would prefer to be treated like the hormonal, irrational, physically weaker girl that I am.

Boy am I glad to get that out!

Yep.  I have scrawny little arms more suited for whipping up meringues than pouring concrete.  Were I required to join a profession that called for manual labor I would fall behind.  That's just a fact.  I can show you my arms, they're pretty worthless.

So, as I am oh-so-secure in my daintiness,  I would appreciate a little recognition of the hours spent making said desserts with a door held open.

"Why thank you sir, and may the Lord bless you with a wife, mother, daughter, niece, nice lady neighbor, etc. willing to share her lady skills like listening to you complain about your job, complimenting your new hair cut or bringing you hot chocolate as you shovel snow."

I also, as a girl, suffer from the little known ailment: raging hormones and enough estrogen to cause me to cry like a baby during Cheaper by the Dozen and While You Were Sleeping.  I view the world with my emotions and I am moved easily. 

With that said, I would like to be spoken to like the fragile thing that I am, on the verge of cracking....which I may or may not be depending on the day.

Or hour.

I like to be offered a place to sit.

I like the bacon brought home.

And I like protection from the dark, serial killers, and zombies.

So whoever is spreading the rumor that none of us gals like to be treated like gals please leave your generalizations in your pockets so I can be who I am; hormones, weak arms, chocolate hoarding, and all.

Thanksomuch.

Help me out here GE

With all the new technology coming out that supposed to make our lives easier, why are we still burning popcorn?  Where in the world is the microwave that tells me when it's done?

It's simple math, people.  The number of kernels per second multiplied by the moisture in the air, divided by the motion of the ocean equals perfectly done popcorn.  Blamo.

If that idea is not already in the works, it should be.

And that's all I have to say about it.

Thank you.

On Current Events

If you live anywhere in/near New York State or the other 49 states, minus probably Alaska, I sometimes wonder how much they know about what goes on waaaaaaay down here, you may have heard about this little piece of legislation that is coming up in our chambers today.

It's a same-sex marriage bill.  And the reason I'm thinking you've probably heard about it is because we've been getting your calls California.  And you too Nebraska, Missouri, Indiana, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Florida.

We've been getting so many calls the past three days the entire Senate phone and Internet system froze.

So many calls I couldn't post a Ten on Tuesday, for cryin' out loud!

It's kind of a big deal.

And despite my own personal views on the subject, I'm thinkin' this time it's going to pass.

**thinks quietly**

...

**thinks quietly some more**

...

**screws face into, "how do I say this without offending" look**

...

**wonders why she wore her "stinky" flops today when she knows they should be in the garbage**

...

I am against same-sex marriage.

(this is when corey opens his email and crafts a nasty-gram because he hates it when i get into this kinda stuff...um, anywhere)

(just kidding...he doesn't send nasty-grams.  just scold-a-grams.)

(which is probably necessary because there go my followers...)

Anyway, the point of this post is not to convert anyone to "my side" or to get on my soapbox and preach.

What I don't understand is why people have to get so ugly about it all.  On both sides.

"I too fear that those who preach marriage as the sole source of procreation lack the intellectual aptitude to raise children who will have a positive impact on society. Please go back to school to learn basic grammar and spelling - while you're at it, perhaps you'll pick up some tolerance!" (comment to newspaper article)

"They all (gay people) just need to be shipped to a deserted island!" (overheard conversation)

This is so sad.
 
That's all I really had to say: Have your opinions, but don't be ugly, people.

Chocolate Progress

I am officially one week into my chocolate fast, and I have to say I've had only a few minor meltdowns.

That may be due to my "break" on Sunday to participate in a Brownie Bake-off.

But in my defense that bake-off was planned months ago, I forgot about it last Wednesday when I pledged to abstain, and I'm pretty sure I got permission.

Then I heard from a semi-practicing Catholic that they take breaks on Sundays anyway.

So I'm extra covered.

Although I plan on going straight through to Easter with no more interruptions.

For five and a half more weeks.  Which is, um, a lot longer than I thought...

**breathe**
I should survive.  At least I can look at it as five and a half more weeks of telling people why I'm grouchy not allowing myself to eat chocolate. 

See, I always saw Lent and the practice of giving things up for 40 days as an obligation instead of a sacrifice, and I think a lot of other people do, too.  But the sacrifice is where the love is, and I think is what is honored more.

Hey, I'm grouchy, leave me alone sacrificing, come love Jesus with me!

But, alas, I'm still a sinnin' lady.  I'm going to want those leftover brownies sitting on my counter as much as I want to breathe and I'm going to pout a little bit when I realize I can't have them.

Next week's lesson: mercy and grace. 

Halleluiah!

I succumbed to peer pressure and Snoop Dogg.

It's true.

I pride myself on my ability to wear gray sweatpants with a different shade of gray sweatshirt into the grocery store and not giving two licks about the cashiers giving me the "oh no she didn't" sneer.

I go to breakfast in a half pajama, half could-be-pajama outfit, complete with no make up and greasy hair without wondering for a second if I'm going to run into someone I know.

In other words, I don't normally care what others think about me.

But not Saturday.

Oh dear.  I'm almost ashamed to confess.

But as I tend to keep nothing to myself, here is my story:

I was invited to a friend's birthday party.  And as we are not turning seven the "party" was not balloons, clown, cake, then nap.  It was dinner followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by drinking, followed by what could be called dancing.

Oh, the horror.

See, I'm not much of a boozer.  My alcohol consumption for the entire year includes probably a pitcher of beer and bottle of wine.  It's just not my thang.  So, you can imagine my tolerance for the stuff is pret-ty low, which is why I gave myself a pint limit.  And a 10:30pm bedtime.

Well, that went out the window by shot number one.

I can do just one shot.  I mean, this is a birthday party and the thing is called Hawiian Punch.  Completely harmless.

This lead to:

"Let's send Stacie home to Corey WASTED!!"

Which lead me to say:

"No, no, no, no, no.  That's not necessary."

Which lead them to say:

"Drink this or you'll die!"

And I go:

"But I have so much to live for!"

And they say:

"Like what?  You make felt balls and watch Matlock!"

And I'm like:

"You're right, but I really enjoy Matlock!"

And they go:

"It's hard not to...Ben Matlock is a courtroom genius!"

And I'm all like:

"Genius is taking it a little far...perhaps maybe he's just very insightful!"

...

Ok.  So I exaggerate.

But I do normally feel bad when people buy me things meant for consumption and I'm just not in the mood.  Corey bought me a Snickers bar last weekend after I'd already eaten my weight in candy, but I ate it anyway.

Bad example.  But I think you get my drift.

So here is this second shot.  Already poured.  Already paid for.  And a pair of puppy dog eyes behind it.

Ok, ok.  Just this last one.  Besides, it's the size of a thimble.

But with that I opened up a door to more booze thrown at me.  Almost literally by the end of the night.  Which came at 1:15am after two hours of dancing to music I've never heard of.  Because I'm an old lady who watches Matlock movie marathons on Sunday afternoons instead of catching up on the latest in the industry.

Oh, and because I'm not too fond of the f-bomb.

Or the b-and-h bomb.

(please don't ask what that means...)

Lucky for me, and who knows how this happened, I married a man who will drag himself out of bed in zero degree weather with a cold looming to pick up his weak and not entirely sober wife and not point out the hypocrisy in her lectures on "going out" the occasional nights he chooses to watch a football game outside of their home.

(sigh...)

The moral of the story:  don't be like me.  Just say no.  Because when you're dragging your butt outta bed six hours later to be at church the next morning I can guarantee you will 1) feel like gross NYC street sludge, and 2) sit in that pew feeling the ominous pointer finger of God with each word of your pastor's sermon.

So, let's drink to bringing back pinatas, swimming pools and My Little Pony cakes for birthday parties!

Drink chai lattes, that is.

Consumer Alert

Dear Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public,

I fear greatly for the sake of your family, and so I must warn you of a simple error that could find you in a whole heap of financial trouble:

There is a can of artichoke hearts that costs $8.59.

Gasp!!

I know.  It is hard to believe, but this can sits next to those ranging from $1.35 to $2.49.  How, possibly, could this particular brand cost so much? 

Do the farmers irrigate with Evian?

Are the artichokes fertilized by golden donkey poo?

I cannot say.  But I do know from personal experience how easy it is to see this can, and then see the price of the can next to it ($1.35) and think that is the price of the can you are holding in your hand, and then raise your eyebrow at the cashier who gives you your total which you believe to be too high, and then walk out of the store vowing to return to get your $7.24 back at a time when you are not rushing to get home and make your artichoke heart and parmesan pita pizza only to be told at that time the price is actually correct, and then walk out of the store all embarrassed because you almost got nasty to the customer service lady.

Save yourself.  Check the prices.

Sincerely,

S. Lucas

PS. Corey, sorry this is the first you're learning I actually bought a can of artichoke hearts that cost $8.59.  Artichoke hearts that tasted the same as the cheapo ones.  Whoopsie!

A few words of wisdom

Don't seal up your Tupperware with leftovers while they're still hot. 

It'll form a suction you're not going to be in the mood to fight tomorrow at lunchtime.

...

Thank me later.

PSA: Cookies Kill

Hey, so here's something you should not try at home:

Don't make a day out of eating nothing but cookies.

...

Let's say you just happen to have a basket full of those chocolate crackle cookies laying around from a party you threw the previous night.  You know, the kind that are your favorites because they're made almost entirely out of chocolate.  As you wash the dishes the next morning and kick yourself for not use plastic forks it is not a good idea to shove a handful of crackles in your mouth between rinses.

And let's say you have a cookie exchange planned for that afternoon for which you need to make five dozen of your own chocolately fudgie cookies.  It will be detrimental to your health if you 1) eat as you bake, and 2) eat as you exchange.

At this point you would be up to a dozen and a half cookies consumed with, hypothetically, just a slaw dog in your belly as a buffer between rounds.

I'm not sure if this is common knowledge: a slaw dog is a hot dog with cole slaw on top of it.  New to me.  But delish, nonetheless.

Now let's say the stars have aligned in your favor and you just happen to have an open house dessert buffet scheduled for this exact same day.  A buffet that features 46 different dessert items arranged all around your host's house.  Should you decide to load your plate with cheesecakes, cookies and fruit bars in a very unorganized, unladylike fashion, by the end of the night, you will (again, hypothetically) find yourself in a coma, sweating sugar crystals and gurgling the words, "can't....eat....maybe just....one....more."

...

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I speak not from personal experience, only a fool would go an entire day eating nothing (except for the occasional slaw dog) but cookies.  But I come to you out of concern for your health and well-being in this season of cookie overload.  Make smart choices.  Eat celery.

Ice cream and life lessons

There are two things in the world that make me laugh until I blow snot bubbles:

1. sleep talking stories
2. animals with shoes on

But that's not the point of this post.

I just felt like sharing.

Now send me sleep talking stories of animals with shoes on.

Where was I?

Oh yes.  I was going to tell you about my breakfast yesterday.  The second one.

I had the french toast smothered in butter and syrup at a restaurant called Poopies.  It's a small place, the service is kinda lousy, but the food is de-lish.  Emphasis on -lish.  Why?  Because I'm in a mood.

But that's also not the point of this post.  Only a minor detail.

I was with my co-workers to celebrate the 90th birthday of a man who has more to do in a day that I do in one week.  His name is Dante, Dan for short, and he volunteers in my office every morning.

I love this guy.  He is so kind and caring...and blunt.

"Hey Dan, my parents are throwing an engagement party and..."

"No thanks.  I don't do that stuff."

"Well, ok then..."

Dan mows his own yard.  He snow blows his driveway and sometimes his brother's.  He plays golf four days a week.  He does work for the boy scouts.  He drives himself and his wife all over town.  He can read phone book listings without glasses.

One more time:  Dan can read the phone book without glasses.

I can barely see my own hand in front of my face without glasses.

He is in great shape, not just for his age.

So when I see him order two eggs over easy, four strips of bacon and buttered toast it makes me wonder how he got here.

Pilates? 

I doubt it.

South Beach Diet?

Probably not.

Burnt toast and scotch?

Maybe.

Or, it might just be good genes and a good attitude.

Now, I don't know if I have either, but I can rationalize my future decisions in this way: I am going to die the day that I die.  It's not my choice, never has been, never will be.  And it is going to be the same day whether I put myself in stupid sugar detox mode, run until my feet fall off and torture myself or if I have a dang lemon square every night...with a cookie...and a slice of cake...with ice cream.

So with that revelation I skipped the egg white omelet and opted for french toast with a stick of butter.  In the afternoon I dug out $3.10 in change (and one Bermuda nickel) for a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

And it felt good.

Tasted good, too.

I'm sure that's what Dan would have done.

Public Service Announcement

WARNING: Don't be my friend.

For real.

If you ever plan on getting married and your preliminary judgment of me leads you to think I may be an adequate addition to your wedding party, spare yourself the pain and agony I bring to the pain and agony of wedding planning by thinking twice about inviting me for coffee and a chat.

Seriously.

And this isn't my attempt at self-deprecating humor, which happens to be my favorite.  But I digress.

I am a terrible bridesmaid.  And bridesmaids are usually friends of the bride.  Which means I am a terrible friend.

But in my defense....nope.  I got nothin'.

I have only been in one wedding (besides my own) and my second will be in June.

The first disaster I blame on ignorance.  Not only had I never been in a wedding, I had only been to one other wedding before that.  So my basic wedding knowledge was -2.

How was I supposed to know bridal shower and bachelorette party planning were within my purview?  How could I have known wearing a pretty dress, standing next to the bride and dancing like a fool were not my only doodies??

But now I do know what is expected of a bridesmaid and I'm still striking out.

This next wedding is at the end of June and I just ordered my dress last week.  Which means it will barely get here in time.  Which means we have no time for a just-in-case plan.  Which means I could have no dress.  Which means the poor bride has one more unnecessary stressor.  Which means her hair could fall out.

I cause people's hair to fall out.

But it's completely unintentional and I blame it all on the little bubble of importance that I live in, all cramped and contorted because it really is that small.  My bubble encompasses things I allow myself to freak out about: eating, sleeping, Oliver, salmonella, suffocation.  Everything else is subject to my easily distracted mind.  Like preventing a friend from experiencing a series of panic attacks.

Save yourselves.

You've been warned.

Courtesy of C.W. Lucas

Note: below is an email I was copied on.  Just look at what my life has become...every word of the following makes complete sense.  At least it's not a life of calf-castration.  (That's a PW reference.  Sorry, I'm obsessed.)  Carry on.

2010 Kentucky Derby

Corey’s Selections and Analysis

This year’s edition of the Derby is very captivating; there’s a ton of speed, a few deep closers, a filly, and then of course a couple that don’t seem to belong, but then again, who thought that Mine That Bird or Giacomo would win? Not very many, yet they both went off a tad higher than 50‐1 and walked away with the roses.

Lookin At Lucky (3‐1) is a serious contender, he can rate, sit just off the lead, close from far back, and seems to do whatever he is asked; the problem is: he’s breaking from the #1 post…can’t use him on top.

Sidney’s Candy (5‐1) has speed, yet he’s out in the 20 path; yes, I know, Big Brown was too, but he didn’t need the lead, Sidney looks like he might, and with all the other speed…gotta pass.

Dublin (12‐1) has the pedigree to win this and will be running late; he has run 3 solid beyers this year(97,93,96) Lukas put a couple nice works into him, and I think he’s sitting on a big effort. He certainly has the stamina; he’s out of Afleet Alex, who won 2/3 of the Triple Crown himself. The dam, Classy Mirage, provides speed and a lot of class underneath. Now, why is Terry Thompson up?? If he can hang on, Dublin might just win this at a price.

Jackson Bend (15‐1) who we have not heard a whole lot about will be on my tickets. He has never run worse than 2nd in 9 starts…running 2nd to Eskendereya twice. Shows two nice works for Zito; I like this guy to run a good one.

Noble’s Promise (12‐1) nearly ran down one of the probable favorites, and almost outlasted his another time (I’m talking about Lookin at Lucky) I will use him; I think he can sit just off the pace, and providing he gets a good trip might be around at the finish.

Ice Box (10‐1)….no thanks, he hasn’t shown me anything, other than his ability to close in a weak field and hot pace. He was all out to beat Pleasant Prince, who has since come back to run off the board. He will face much better Saturday afternoon, in a crowded field. I will pass on him…might get over bet as well.

Awesome Act (10‐1) and Discreetly Mine (30‐1) might have a shot if they can rate. Awesome Act lost a shoe last race, and still managed to run on and finish pretty well. If he runs back to his Gotham, he could be very dangerous.

Dean’s Kitten…..really????

Final selections:

1. Dublin (12‐1)

2. Awesome Act (10‐1)

3. Jackson’s Bend (15‐1)

4. Noble’s Promise (12‐1)

A brief warning

What happens when you make fun of your husband's forming wrinkles?

He throws a full glass of ice water on you in the shower.

Just thought I'd save you from the cold, the screaming, and the angry neighbors.

A general plea to the masses

People, please, let's practice good grammar.  Take advantage of your computer's spelling advice.  Because you never know if the person you are sending a letter, memo, or note to may have undiagnosed adult attention deficit disorder and is completely thrown off by the most innocently misplaced comma.

I'm speaking generally, of course.

Think about the recipient of that letter.  Is he or she going to read the same sentence 18 times and still not know your dog, John Charles, is sick because you did not separate his name from the rest of the sentence with the proper punctuation?

Is he or she going to eventually become so frustrated over incorrect verb tense that he or she must stand in a corner and rock back and forth while humming Journey songs until the world is right again?

All things to consider when drafting that "Dear John" letter, or the "..doesn't that skirt make Judy's butt look big?" accidental mass email.

We can all make a conscious effort to make good grammar choices so these silently tortured individuals can find some peace.

A week of epiphanies

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

When you drop something enough, like a cell phone, eventually it doesn't work anymore.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Just because you can, that doesn't mean you should. (ie, spandex, sheet cake, flame throwing, etc.)

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Expiration dates are not always suggestions.

Friday, November 6, 2009

The fourth of July will always fall on the fourth of July...and never on my birthday.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Rhode Island is neither a road, nor an island.  Ok, ok, so I stole that one from Saturday Night Live.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

If you must use your fingers to add and subtract, do it discreetly.  People tend to lose confidence when you don't know simple math.

Monday, November 9, 2009

A headache is your body's way of saying, "Please, no more chocolate today."

Warning Amazon Shoppers

Hey.  It's me, auto-pilot.  Trying to make Stacie look busy at work, found this:

Pretty scary.  Word of advice: don't buy used tic tacs.  They may have germs.

Thank you.

.857 weeks...

I ran on Thursday. I ran, and I ran, and I ran....then I walked....but then I ran, and ran. Minus the wasabi pea fire in my stomach, it was good.

It was interesting.

Around mile 14 (i exaggerate) I encountered a man who gave me some very helpful advice. As he approached me on his bike, hacking and coughing up a lung, I stopped to let him pass. He pedaled by, lifted up a piece of cloth tied around his neck and pressed a button that let him say through the air hole in his throat, "(gargle) don't overdo it (gargle)."

I could take this statement one of several ways:

He could have simply meant, "Hey, you're working hard, and that's good, but don't go so far that you eventually cause yourself emotional and physical strain."

Or the deeper, "Enjoy yourself, but don't overindulge yourself with the pleasures of this world and spend your life completely fixated on the things that create a superficial happiness...like smoking enough cigarettes to burn a hole in your trachea." I don't think he would have said trachea, maybe air tube.

I, however, chose to look at those three words as they apply to my current situation, "Young, smart, beautiful, lady, you have done a fantastic job coordinating every aspect of this wedding. It is going to be the wedding of the decade, however, you must not put too much of yourself into it or else you risk not enjoying the day, which can ultimately cause you to carry bitterness into your marriage." Wow.

Running may be hard on your joints, but it's good for your soul.