It's a Recessive Trait

"Hey Meg, you know how you feel about velvet?"
"Yes."
"That's how I feel about polar fleece."
"Ew."
"Yeah. It's crawly-creepy."

Then Angelina and Brad Made Me Feel a Little Worse About Myself. Again.

Occasionally, between pieces of generally solid, reputable literature, I indulge myself in an issue of People. Usually they come in the form of a random gift. Get well, Happy Hump Day, Easter Basket, or Stocking Stuffer. The Best/Worst of 2006 issue came in the hat that doubled as a stocking this year as we didn't have time to frost the house with the usual tacky decorations. Or, you know, get a tree. People is the only magazine that I really, well, appreciate isn't the right word. I like the crossword puzzle, and plan on eventually moving up to the NY Times puzzle in my future, more intellectual days.
My question is how Pluto made the list of "Fired in '06" and Spinach made the "2006 Hall of Shame". The Hall of Shame had six things on it. People isn't so classy. You'd think they'd have more people and less vegetables.

Pseudo Sleep, Pseudo Trip, Pseudo Cure.

I'd like to thank the sponsor of last night's 11 most solid hours of sleep in my recent memory: Nyquil. And also the sponsor of the reason Nyquil neglected to actually cure the cold symptoms, and just flush me into a hallucinogenic sleep: Oregon. Pseudoephedrine is the working ingredient in Nyquil and other cold/flu remedy medicines, and as all you meth-addicts know, can be turned into methamphetamine and be smoked uuup. Because 85% of property crime in Oregon is commited by meth addicts, and the state alone represents not only the founding fathers of meth in the US, but remains the sole highest leader in users, pseudoephedrine is now banned in the majority of these products.

I prefer to not be carded when I buy Sudafed, because making sure I am a licenced 18 year old with itchy eyes, scratchy throat, runny nose, and a number of other symptoms seem to drastically change my attitude and therefore appearance. But hey.
My message to the, I'm sure huge, population of meth-user-blog-readers? Don't do meth, because when you wake up from a Nyquil sleep, you will feel just like you've awaken from a long, hard night.
And your nose will still run like Kenyans in the Olympics.

And She Rocked the Rental Shoes and 8 lb Ball

Bowling Champ
Originally uploaded by BananaLoaf.

Christmas was filled with family, singing, filler conversation, chocolate oranges and excitement followed by exhaustion. All of that sentimental crap*. Let's get down to the real stuff. The cousins that we bowl with every year on Christmas day found out about the blog in a lapse of judgement caused by exhaustion and tending to Father for 4 days in the hospital a few weeks back. Tired people do stupid things. Bill, if you're reading this, you're still King Pin in my book. Red team forever. Pound it.
Anyways, they had us for Christmas this year and got each family member a personalized bowling shirt, complete with nicknames like Twisted Sister (The bowler, not the 80s rock group. Disappointment, I know.) and Striker embroidered like real professionals.
Mine? Mine?
Banana Loaf.
I intended on a photo montage, but the digital cam went AWOL and so I spent a solid 1/2 an hour on this .bmp art. Beauty.
And yes, it does look as boxy on me as this paint masterpiece displays it.


*Filler conversation is absolutely sentimental crap.

Take THAT Rig Veda

I am not a competitive person.
I do not mind losing.
Somebody has to be the worst at everything, and I am the best worst at sports. This is okay. I played Thunder* the other day, and did not score a single basket. Not even one. I got out every time, and people simply shrugged, wondering why I was playing in the first place, and why I'm not morbidly obese due to such minimal physical activity. I enjoy a good walk, and now, yoga. I went to a "primary" course last night. Wouldn't you guess that primary would be the easiest? Oops. It's not. But hey. I'll learn the chants, find my Ujjayi breath, and maybe some day I'll be able to do a perpendicular headstand for 2 minutes like that one lady.
Point. Point. Searching for the poooinntt.
Oh, yes. My point is that usually, it's most natural for me to go back to the basics if I've over stepped my skill. Or better yet, pre-basics. But I plan on staying in this primary class. I will not reverse this. I made it through one class minimally returning to child's pose while those around me bent in ways I didn't think possible, and only sometimes mixed up my right and left appendages.
I will do physical activity.
And I will like it.

*Like Lightening in basketball, but you get back in.

I'm Dreaming of Diminishing Non-Renewable Resources...

Christmas is in X minus 7 days. 1 week away, people. And we have yet to see a 1/2 inch of white. I'd like to take this 45 degree Advent as an opportunity to address a very important issue. Why do I live in this freaking state? Oh yes, because when you exit the womb, they stamp your birth certificate, and hand you a less-known document stating that if you stay in Minnesota, you're guaranteed reduced reciprocity rates for going to Eau Claire for a post-secondary education, and you will experience four seasons every year. Travel Minnesota, folks.
Nobody should have to walk this limbo. Unless you are at a Hawaiian-themed party. Which might double as a Baby Jesus birthing party also. Is Al Gore a Christian? Or does he practice self-worship? Either way, he and his high-upper friends should write a sequel to An Inconvenient Truth detailing their plans to re-create the atmosphere of planet Earth. That would be a hit for everybody. Then they could tax us all, and print more money when they run out.
Debt!
Fun!

Gary Likes: The Zoo

Gary Likes: The Zoo
Originally uploaded by BananaLoaf.

Would you believe me if I told you that one of the 1st graders I work with drew this?

The first* documented episode of The Adventures of Gary the Gummy Bear uploaded here.

*See: Rough, Crappy, Blurry.

The Wiggles' Version of Octopus's Garden: Equally Disturbing

Mark (age 8): Who's Dave Matthew's Band?
Me: It's a band that I like a lot, I went to the concert a few months ago.
Mark: Oh. Like The Beatles?
Me: Um, well, sort of, but The Beatles are not The Beatles anymore...they're 50% dead.
Mark: Oh.
Amara (age 7): Ears perk the way a dog's do when you say the w-word. Did you say The Wiggles?!
Me: Oh, no The Beatles.
Amara: Disappointment, like when you were talking about w-o-k, not w-a-l-k. Oh. Well you know, the yellow Wiggle had to stop being a Wiggle.
Me: Oh, really?
Amara: Yep. He wasn't feeling good. He got sick.
Me: Huh. Interesting.
Amara: Satisfaction, pure satisfaction.

Hit or Miss

That Girl and I live by the same principal that you take in with you to TJ Maxx or Marshall's. Sometimes you find amazing shoes, sometimes you don't. Sometimes a creepy foreigner takes a picture up your skirt, sometimes you find great shoes. And sometimes you're funny, sometimes you collect awkward social situations like an elderly woman does cats.

TG: Oh Tim says that all the time.
Innocent Bystander: Who's Tim?
M: That's her pet name for me.
TG: Yep. And She calls me Richard Parker.

Insecure with a Swimming Unit in Gym Class

"In the eighth grade I was the only kid who wore her Halloween costume to the Halloween dance. "
"What'd you go as?"
"A spy."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, middle school is rough on everybody."

Hey, You!

People of the Interweb.
You seem to know things.
Why does brie have that totally nasty skin?

If you don't have the real answer, made up responses are welcome.
A prize to the one I like best.

F*$@ You Lucy, Bag and Bug Do Not Rhyme!

On a scale of 1 to 10, how appropriate is it to call 6 first graders playing rhyme bingo "The Rhymesayers"?

What about when one of them finds the word "fock" and asks if it's a word?

Building Buildings, Peeling Paper

We started to re-do the bathroom this summer. Or at I tore at a strip of wallpaper that was peeling. This was a lot more fun than I thought it would be, and led to naked walls.

Meanwhile, the Galleria started to build a parking ramp at about the same time I tore down the first wallpaper strip. I drove by the Galleria the other day, and people were parking in the 6 story garage while my bathroom walls are still bare.
Ouch.

Among Other Reasons Why We Did Not Form a Famly Band and Tour the Countryside

The thing about being 4th of 4 in the sibling line dance is that one stops getting particularly surprised. Except when, within a week, you discover that Brothers are both pregnant.
With commitment that is.
They have girlfriends which I don't really count as official until I've met them, and properly assessed who they are around their new counterparts. Thus far, I approve. They are both shy and brunette and both have the ability to make the brothers lose sight of what's really going on.
Oh.
And Sister is pregnant.
With child.
And another round of commitment, also I suppose.
She and I share the general fear of being outnumbered by children, for her it's her own kin, but I don't really hold that boundary.
I advised her that if she was going for three, it's ludicrous to stop there.
Because after all, the perfect child is child IV.

Leftovers

I have arrived home from The Family Muffin Giving Thanks Marathon '06. A three-day giving thanks extravaganza.
Thanks to the pilgrims, we are forced at least once a year, to gather with the people who we would love to strangle if given the chance to make it look like an accident.
But, alas, we go. Because there is food. And pie. And we sit around and poke a dead bird, cooking it for an hour for every four pounds (not the vice versa that I suggested at the feast), eat can-shaped berries, and in my case, are forced to eat a rutabaga to see if this is the year I will like them.
And I will not.

Cranking Up the Hearing Aids

There's an opening in our bridge club. I play with the gals on Tuesday nights at 3:30 before supper.
I also got my AARP card in the mail today right after I got the x-ray results which reveal that my hips aren't actually those of a 78 year old woman, but likely just feel like they are because I have bursitis. Which rarely occurs in people under 40 and is the result of high-risk activities such as raking, gardening, and carpentry.
After I set Dr. B straight, assuring him that I do not participate in any sports, that my gardening career has been cut off before it began, and don't jump, dance or generally activate myself often, he brushed it off as a form of arthritis, or inflammation of the bursa.
I'm thinking about asking for my own copies of the films to bring into Perkins to see if I qualify for the 55+ French Toast breakfast. "Here, look at my pelvis. See? Bursitis. I know, I know. I don't look 78, but believe me, I am totally deserving of the 3 slices at the reduced price. Hey. Would you talk to your grandmother that way?"

Bugger!

Remember when I got totally stoked about renting the entire first season of The Office?
And then when I accidentally rented the original, British version of the show, The Office?
And then how I punched my fist through the TV at the annoying accents and complete lack of Steve Carell?
Me too.

Okay, Seriously.

Or at least as serious as one, myself included, can get while blogging.
What do you say when this happens:

Boy 1: "Hey Ms. T...Is Santa real?"
Boy 2: "No, the real Santa is dead."
Girl: "Santa IS real!!"
6 big eyes stare at me in anticipation.

I search for non-religious-in-a-public-school answer.
Then walk away.

Bigger is Better

You Know That Sound That Scissors Make gets a face lift today.

Blogger in Beta and I have started to overcome our differences for the greater good. Or, the Blogger team fixed all the coding holes like not being able to comment on non-Beta blogs. Times are better now. And I wasted an hour of this morning playing with templates, fonts, and colors.

The conclusion:
1. Links which have already been clicked on will now be plum. Because plum is in.
2. Bigger fonts are better because (a) I don't have to wear the reading glasses to read posts. (b) When I post little posts, it looks like more.

I am a Writer, Writer of Facts

Texting Matt
Matt's Calling
Me: Hi...we're...(looks up)
Matt: She's on stage.
Me: She's on stage.
Matt: She's doing a jig.

I paid for a Decemberists concert ticket, but got an unexpected showing of the Superman underpants. Just kidding.
Colin was sick, but in both ways. In the "Colin was so sick last night, he ran off stage before everyone else probably to go throw up in the tour bus before coming back for the encore" way and also in the "Colin rocked so hard last night, it was sick" way.
Also, I made a new best friend and her name is Lisa and she's not actually in the Decemberists, but she can play more instruments than I have fingers and her hair is unbrushed and totally rock and roll and we're best friends.
She maybe just doesn't know it yet.