11 Year Old Guest Blogger: Ruth's Dream Vacation

If I could go anywhere in the world, I would go to Canada.

I would stay in our newly remodeled house and help my grandpa build some horse stables.

I would go tubing on our lake and maybe even try water skiing.

On other days, I would go on long nature walks, or take a trail ride with my horse.

Of course, I'd have to bring my cats: Patch to protect me and Sara to cuddle!

For dinner, I'd have soup and sandwiches or any other food that sounds good.

At the end of my glorious vacation, I will give the horse back to its owner (I was only renting it), pack up and go home.

I'll have lots of adventures to tell my family!!!

Trickle Down Theory

My husband is working like a dog lately. I am juggling the normal chainsaws in the air, but I think soon I will not be able to operate such heavy machinery.

My favorite is stay at home moms that ask me what I do with all of my time. Don't my sisters in the trenches know? What are THEY doing with all of their time?

I am tired at being at FUNctions that are supposed to be FUN, but feel more like torture. I fantasize about staying home in my jammies and watching t.v. My time has been whittled to a nub and here I am, stressed out in my own little suburban way.

I'm on my way to the grocery store for some Calgon and some Zombie Zin. I hope it can take me away just enough to make it through the weekend, and next week, and the remainder of this year.

The trickle is getting more like a landslide of water that fills in all of the unfilled gaps. Time to get out the sandbags or swim like a wild, crazy woman.

SHUT UP! And I Mean That In The Nicest Possible Way

Last night, my husband and I headed into the big city to see South Pacific. The economy being what it is, and time being at the highest premium, I debated long and hard before I dragged him to see this show.

Usually I splurge a little bit on the tickets. This time I didn't. We sat in the balcony, and while the seats weren't too particularly bad, I had the experience of sharing my experience with a Grandmother and her eight year old.

I am a mother of three and all for taking your kids to the theater. However, if you take your 8 year old boy to the Friday night performance, please use a LITTLE etiquette. HELLO...you do not go to the show and proceed to TALK the entire time explaining the show. Loudly.

Then, the teenager next to me began to text furiously on his cell phone. The show was not a stellar production, the lead actress carried almost the entire performance, but Whoa Nellie, you also do not text during the show.

Do not act in ways during a live performance that would get you shushed in a movie. Have some respect for the actors and for the people who paid good money to actually see and hear the show.

***********Optional Reading. Warning! High Horse Personal Advice*************

Well, I'm a big talker, but, here's some advice to that grandmother:

a. If you're taking your kid to the theater, rent the movie first. He will know the plot, the characters and possibly recognize the songs. You can talk talk talk and answer answer answer questions again and again in the comfort of your own home.

b. If you rent the video, you will know how interested your kid is in the actual performance. If your kid can't sit through the video, it's not likely he's going to make it through the first act squinting at people the size of peanuts from the balcony in the theater.

c. Discuss theater etiquette before you get there. This is like anything else. You do not run and scream in a library. You do not talk during the performance.

d. If you have a question, please use a quiet voice. Whisper to each other. Cup your hand and speak into the other person's ear. Even better, wait until a scene change or applause to discuss a concern or question.

e. I realize we all might have questions. Ask your question. Do not "chat" endlessly.

I would have been fine with a few questions. I love kids, I'm a mom and a teacher. The thing is, I really wanted that kid and his grandma to have a good time. I just felt like it was the adult that was setting the poor example.

Earthworm Gummies: Made in China

I love Halloween. Friends might say that would be putting it mildly. Over the years, our decor has morphed from cute stuffed witches to eerie skeletons, tombstones and body parts. The creepier the decoration, the more tempted I am to string it up in the tree in front of our house.

This year, I ordered Gummy Roadkill, Toe Jam Cotton Candy and Gummy Earthworms. All three varietals are extremely gross. My kids recognize the "show candy." They know this is only for display, and they wouldn't dream of tasting it.

Mostly, this is because last year we gave out Bags of Blood. These tasted so disgusting, my children will no longer try any old kind of candy. Therefore, I order the grossest, un-tastiest props that I can find. Not only is it gruesome, it saves my waistline.

Of course, all of these novelties are MADE IN CHINA. It's stamped all over the individual wrappers and boxes. I could care less, I mean, we're not eating that stuff or anything. My friends have a strict NO CHINA policy on food and plastic (this candy is probably considered both). They've told me the horrors, I adhere.

Recently, we had the new neighbors over for cocktails. Their daughter grabbed a root beer-flavored Gummy Earthworm. I had to embarrassingly admit that it's origin was China. The mom looked at me as if I was from the Moon. Apparently, she had no personal embargo on China.

Why I would be more embarrassed to have a product MADE IN CHINA, rather than the fact that I actually had candy shaped like realistic earthworms, escapes me.

Dog Gone It!

11:30. We climbed into bed and settled in. My husband and I, both exhausted from a day of hurdles had just successfully booked flights for two trips. We had been meaning to do it for months, but life gets in the way.

He turned to me and said, "Honey, where's the dog?"

"She should be right here," I said peering over the edge of the bed. I was content with accomplishment and sank into my fluffy pillows.

"When's the last time that you saw her?" I couldn't answer that question, so I hauled my carcass out of bed and started searching the house.

Kiki, our collie-lab mix, is getting older. She often falls asleep somewhere in the house, and if it's her bedtime, she'll stay there. She's very quiet.

Hmmmmm, the last time I saw her was when I was outside doing the recycling. Satisfied that she wasn't in the house, I opened the door and called for her. No dog.

I put on my shoes and a sweater and went out into our quiet, dark and deserted street. Whistling and calling. No dog.

My husband, who would choose this dog over me in a crisis, joined me out in the street. When his whistling had no luck, he told me to call the police.

One might ask, why we would call the police? Well, we've been down this road before, and the last time, many years ago, she was found at the police department.

This is not to be confused with the time she dug herself under the fence, escaped into the neighbor's yard and took a tour of the neighborhood. I was 8 months pregnant, but I hauled the kids out of the pool (still dripping in our bathing suits) and combed the neighborhood frantically looking for her.

And that is not to be confused with the time some man called and had found her in the next city.

With this kind of record, I called the police. They didn't have a dog, but they did just see the Animal Control truck leave town. Gulp.

I called the Humane Society. They, of course, were closed, but they did have an "Animal Emergency" number. Was this an animal emergency? Considering my husband and his love for this dog, uh huh.

I dialed the number. After a few rings, the Animal Officer confirmed that indeed he had Kiki in his truck. He asked for our address and said he would bring her right home. Thank goodness!

The scary white van appeared. The officer, very nice, opened the door, and viola! Kiki bounded happily out of the Animal Control van. Her tail was wagging, her tongue hung out to the side--she had just been on her best adventure ever.

16 Years of Marriage:16 Things...

How did that happen? Glad it did. I feel so lucky to have found who I truly consider my soul mate.

He loves me even though:

1. I shop too much.
2. Organizing anything requires making a HUGE mess and you can never be sure it will ever be back to normal again.
3. I have crazy ideas.
4. I have no domestic abilities--at least none that I can locate.
5. I like to do last minute things that require dropping everything...and often shirking responsible responsibilities.
6. I have a dreadful sense of humor--often dark and black.
7. I hold grudges like a bull dog terrier holds on to a sock in its teeth.
8. I have impossible standards of loyalty.
9. I'm not a good driver.
10. I love halloween.
11. I make a lot of redundant purchases.
12. I don't know where his socks are.
13. I don't like to make phone calls.
14. I'm midwest tacky.
15. I prefer sleep to exercise.
16. I like to dress funny instead of sexy.

16 Things He's Taught Me

1. Put the perishables away.
2. You really should exercise.
3. Michigan football Saturdays are akin to holidays
4. You can get to the airport seconds before you plane is supposed to leave and still make your flight.
5. You can also buy your tickets last minute--it just costs more.
6. Summers at the cottage are enjoyable, in certain ways.
7. Our kids can do their chores.
8. You can be a workaholic and still have fun.
9. It's o-k to be messy, just not for too long.
10. You can drive 11 hours and not stop for gas or restrooms.
11. You can not talk all of the time and still say a lot.
12. Naps are good and necessary.
13. Being in love is really, really special and good.
14. You should be able to always operate your husband's phone and be able to turn off the alarm.
15. You should like EVERYBODY.
16. Most of all, I've learned about unlimited kindness and generosity. He is the kindest and most generous person I've ever met.

Acupuncture--I'm Getting the Point

I've now had three sessions of acupuncture. I do feel better. Is it the wonder of acupuncture? I sure wish there was a "Control Test Deb" and a "Normal Deb" so that I could really scientifically prove that my non-insurance-covered treatment is working.

The biggest thing I'm taking away is the logic of the treatment. Here's the conversation:

Doc: How are you feeling.

Me: Tired.

Doc: Well, what are you doing today?

This is where I list all of the places I've been and plan on going before my head hits the pillow.

Doc: What did you eat today?

This is where I rattle off the mishmash of food and caffeinated beverages that I've had so far in the day.

Doc: How many hours of sleep did you get last night?

This is where I calculate out loud the bedtime, interruptions, awakenings and alarm clock settings.

Doc: Do you hear what you just said?

Whew, it's like I'm with my mom, and she says, "Do what you think is best." My failure to feel rested is an open book on the examining table.

Am I crazy? Yes. But, I'm starting to get the point.