Monday, January 30, 2006

More Nemo! More Nemo!


Last night we took the boys to Disney on Ice: Finding Nemo. The evening started out a bit rough as we attempted to grab a bite to eat beforehand, and didn't anticipate the slow service nor the torpidity of Grandma and her beau (which was clearly our fault, for senior citizens don't move faster as they age, and Grandma has been a senior citizen for a long time).

We ended up making it to the arena with ten minutes to spare, and luckily it wasn't too crowded. I mean, who in their right mind would bring children to a 7:30 PM performance? Uh, yeah. That would be us . . . In our defense, it was the only possible time for all of us (me, Michael, Mom, David--Grandma and Seymour just need 24 hours notice, and then they are good to go).

Every few yards there was another kiosk set up with every kind of Finding Nemo thing you could possibly want. The first time Kyle saw something Nemo-ish, he pointed and shouted, "Nemo! Nemo!" Three yards later, "More Nemo! More Nemo!" Three yards later, "More Nemo! More Nemo!" I cannot describe the excitement in his voice, but it is a sound I will remember for a very long time.

When we entered the main part of the area and headed to our seats, both boys got a little freaky. Dylan wanted to run around, and Kyle was gripping Mom and kept repeating, "Scared, Scared!" But once the show started, they were in heaven. Dylan was so mesmerzed, he didn't even notice that his papa was right there. He sat on my lap without moving throughout the entire first act. Kyle was WAY into the show. Anytime there was music, he started dancing. Now, try to imagine he's sitting on my mom's lap, kicking both legs forward at the same time and punching his arms out (with his hands in fists) as if he is rowing a boat as fast as he can. Oh, and there is a big (no, huge!) smile on his face. It was great.

Again, a wonderful experience that they will probably not remember, but I will never forget.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Blasphemy on the Highway


Yesterday was a long day that involved many hours in traffic. Thank goodness Sara, Joe and I had each other. When my iPod battery ran out of juice, we switched the radio onto NPR (Correction: Joe put it on KFYI and I changed it to KJZZ). We sat and listened to the reports regarding the Hamas victory in Palestine.

We were quiet for a while and then tried to "fix" the problem. Isn't there a way they can all just get along? Maybe not. This thought did not improve the mood. You see, the three of us are kind of the types of people who look at a problem and come up with a solution. It might be a very complicated solution that involves a lot of compromise, but there's always got to be a way to fix the situation. Twenty-something optimists, right?

Finally, my thoughts became so heavy and we were about to reach our destination. In an effort to lighten the mood I offered this suggestion:

Well, maybe we'll have Christ's second-coming and all of the Christians would be happy, return to God and leave everyone else behind. Then, the Palestines and the Israelis could have all the land they wanted!

OK, OK, so it doesn't completely help because everyone wants the HOLY land, which is on one location. Joe suggested that the holy land be reallocated. You guys have this part of the world, you over there have that part of the world, etc.

In any event, something's got to change. Right?

Monday, January 23, 2006

They Lost


So, the Broncos lost. Michael was devastated. I got home from the theatre this evening and asked him, "Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?"

He smiled, took my hand, and said, "I was hoping you and I could watch the documentary one of my football players made about the season. It's called The Road to State."

We watched an hour and forty-five minute documentary about high school football. And he was happy.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Cheez-its, Crush, tangerines, cheese . . . Blueberries?


About roughly four years ago, I told Michael that when the Broncos make it to the Superbowl I would throw him a superball party and all of the food and beverage would be orange and blue. At the time, I thought I had come up with a wonderfully creative idea. Now I am starting to worry. You see, every football season, the playoffs come and go, and Denver really hasn't been that close - Expect for the year the twins were born, and if the Broncos had gone to the Superbowl nobody would have expected me to start planning a party. This time two years ago I could barely walk and my mother-in-law was bringing hungry babies to my bedroom so I could play Bessie-the-cow.

The Broncos play on Sunday. If my calculations are correct, if they win this Sunday then they're going to the Superbowl. If they win this Sunday, I'm going to have to throw a Broncos party where every item of food and drink is orange or blue. I could totally bail out of it, being that our house is on the market and Michael knows I really don't need the added stress of a party (I had to apologize to my family on the day of the twins' birthday party for being what I can only describe as "a total freak"). The thing is, despite the added stress, I really want to have this party for him. What if, in our lifetime, the Broncos never go to the Superbowl again?

Orange and blue food . . . Suggestions, anyone?

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

My house talks, does yours?


Well, our house is officially on the market. Any takers? Yesterday we worked tooth and nail (Where does that phrase come from, anyway?) to get the house ready to be shown. Everything has its own "show" place, including the twins' toys. Michael worked his tushee off and then announced that I was not allowed to cook anything and that we would only be using paper plates. I wonder how long we can eat cold sandwiches before he asks me for spaghetti and meatballs?

One of the cool things we're doing is called the Talking House. When you drive up to the front of our house, a sign tells you to tune to channel 1610 AM (Don't try it now - You have to be right in front of the house for it to work). It's a pretty nifty idea, especially since our HOA doesn't allow us to distribute flyers (and let's face it, the flyers just get picked up by the neighbors anyway). So, when you tune into our special Talking House program, you get to hear my lovely voice tell you all about the property for 3 minutes, and then it repeats itself. I had such a blast writing a script. My favorite line is, "Improve your game on your very own putting green, or relax and enjoy mountain views from your personal balcony." That's marketing, baby!

The house really does look phenomenal, and I'm enjoying the tidiness, but I hope it sells sooner rather than later. Or, at least until I start craving some home-cooked meals.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

My Boogins

It's 8:30 PM. The boys have been fed, bathed and are sleeping. Michael and I have eaten, cleaned the kitchen and I was feeling dangerous enough to clean the bathroom. Ahh . . . time to relax. So, I turn on the computer to check my e-mail and see if good old Joe has written anything in his blog as of late. He has.

Now, it's not what Joe wrote about that had me laughing hysterically - It's the picture of the cat (I just clicked back to his page to look at it again and laugh). I don't know what makes this picture so funny to me, but I'm seriously near tears even as I am writing this now.

I'm getting such enjoyment out of this (I'm remembering now that I had to wake up at 4:45 this morning to take one of our actors to a radio station), that I'm feeling inspired to share the most enjoyable characteristics of my favorite feline, Daisy (aka Daisy-the-Baggins-Spencer; aka Boogins; aka Daisy-Face).

  • Daisy is a social eater. She could have just eaten a whole bowl of food, but when we're eating at the kitchen table, she immediately heads toward her bowl. Even if she's eaten all of her dinner already, we will give her a couple of bites so she can eat with the family.

  • Daisy loves to have her belly rubbed and her armpits scratched. OK dog owners, I know this doesn's sound like a big deal, but most cats will hiss, scratch, bite or run away when you try to touch these parts.

  • Daisy has to be in the same room as us. If Michael is upstairs and I am downstairs, she will sit on the middle of the staircase so she can see both of us.

  • Daisy always knows when someone is napping. She has this weird cat-sensor that seems to notify her if you have decided to lie down, and she will immediately join you. This is most impressive when she is sleeping under the bed and Michael falls asleep on the couch upstairs.

  • Daisy can sit on the bathroom counter all day long, waiting for a drop of water to escape from the tap. Every once in a while, she'll lick the dry tap, just in case something is on its way out. This is most perplexing to us as she has her own special kitty water cooler in the kitchen. Also perplexing is the fact that she only started doing this about a year ago.

  • Daisy will let Kyle and Dylan put their head on her belly like a pillow; brush her with the wrong side of her brush; and attempt to feed her treats or pieces of her food, only to pull their hands away when her mouth touches their fingers.

(I just looked back at the cat picture again . . . Seriously, my stomach is hurting from laughing!)

  • When I adopted Daisy, the rescue organization had named her "Cuddles," which I immediately changed because a) I think it's very important to give animals "people" names and b) at the time I was very much into naming plants and animals after literary figures - An increasingly difficult feat as some of my favorite literary figures die tragically (oh, poor Phineas the goldfish . . . If you don't understand, read A Separate Peace. Actually, if you haven't read A Separate Peace, you should). Anyway, the rescuers weren't kidding when they named her "Cuddles" because she is a very cuddly cat. P.S. One day I will have a male cat named Gatsby . . . Oh shit! He died tragically too. Man!

OK, I'm thinking sad thoughts now about a future, non-existent cat dying so you know what I have to do? That's right, look at the cat picture again.


Wednesday, January 04, 2006

My Odd Couple


When I think ahead to the future, I can picture the twins' bedroom: One side is completely disheveled with clothes strewn about on the floor, empty cups littering the furniture, blankets balled up on the bed . . . The other side is immaculate.

Of all of the gifts received on Christmas and Chanukah, Kyle has shown the most interest in his child-sized cleaning supplies. He loves to take his broom and sweep, sweep, sweep the kitchen floor alongside me. His sweeps may be less stroke-like and more like banging the broom on the floor, but you've got to give him credit for his effort.

This evening while I was making dinner and chatting on the phone, the boys were busying themselves with taking pieces of food out of Daisy's bowl and bringing them to her mouth (Daisy has got to be the most patient and tolerant cat in the world. How on Earth did we luck out with her?).

I went to check on them, and apparently they had scattered bits of Daisy's food on the carpet, and Kyle was attempting to vaccuum the food up with his toy Dirt Devil. I was happy to see him trying to clean up the mess, but there's no doubt in my mind that Kyle had purposely scattered food about so he could clean it (Over the weekend I caught him wandering around, spilling his milk onto the kitchen floor and wiping the floor clean with a towel).

Now I've got to plan their second birthday party, and here's what I'm thinking: I'll give Dylan a bunch of paper that he can rip up and scatter around the house, and I'll give Kyle a trash can so he can throw it all away . . . Or maybe a bucket with some sponges and a pair of rubber gloves . . . Or a feather duster . . . A toilet brush?