Let me just say, that it got my attention.  It DEFINITELY got my attention.  But, um, HELLO!?!?!?!  Looking at that mean, Exorcist-looking face does NOT make me want to become a social worker.  Not in one year, and not in ten years.  Now, as I look at that photo, I’m imagining that the photographer just told that sweet (she probably really IS sweet, and not evil) little girl to make the scariest monster face she could.  And that’s great.

But the sepia tones, added with the ad for becoming a social worker, makes the whole thing just creepy.  I did not click on the link.  For two reasons…the first reason would be that I very, very, very, very rarely will click on a Facebook ad.  And if I do, it’s only the ones that go to another Facebook page.  Secondly, I was afraid that the devil himself might jump right out of my laptop if I clicked there.

OK, just needed to share.  What’s the weirdest Facebook ad you’ve seen?

and Strawberry Jello Pretzel Salad.

ZOMG, it’s frickin’ awesome.  I distinctly remember the first time I ate this so-called salad.  It was my niece’s birthday party, at my brother’s Mother-in-law’s house.  We were outside, and I saw this concoction sitting in a pan.  My sister-in-law told me to try it, it was awesome.

That, it was.  I had never tried to make it.  I would just go to summer graduations, birthday parties and what not, and basically hover over it, making sure I got two pieces.  I was watching WQED a couple of weeks ago, and they were trying to get pledges.  If you pledged 60 bucks, you got a cookbook about what Pittsburgh eats.  Then, they made some recipes.  One was a burnt almond torte (again, ZOMG!  Soooooooooooooo good.  One of our friends had a burnt almond torte wedding cake.  I will forever remember that wedding because of the cake.  Such an excellent idea).  I was not about to venture into making a burnt almond torte.  It looked super difficult.  But, then they made Strawberry Jello Pretzel Salad.  That didn’t look to bad.

So, last week I bought all the ingredients.  But I didn’t get the motivation to make it until last night.  Not difficult to make at all.  I stuck it in the fridge to let the jello set.  About 45 minutes later, I just couldn’t wait…I had to have a piece.  I asked the girls if they wanted some.  They absolutely refused to try something new.  Fine.  More for me.

All I can say is YUMMY!  I had promised my one sister-in-law, Anita, that when I made it I would bring some to her.  So, after I polished off THREE PIECES, I packed up four pieces for her.  I think this is my new thing to bring to parties.  Here’s the recipe from WQED’s website:

YUM!!!!!

**Imagine me peering up at you, with my head still on the table**

I’m a soccer mom.

The girls are both going to be in spring soccer, and practices start next week.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they’re excited to be involved in some sort of team sport.  It’s good for them.

On the other hand, there are days I feel like I’m still 25 and I should be worrying about what adult beverage I’m going to have and where I’m going on vacation.

Now it’s about soccer shoes, shin guards, practices, games, and getting a good folding chair where I can place my ass while this is all going on.  It’s about getting homework done, not spoiling the kids but letting them have a fun childhood.  Bedtimes, baths, brushing teeth, eating good food, doing well in school, making friends, birthday parties and loving your sister.

This was my plan, don’t get me wrong.  But it feels like I created this plan just a few months ago instead of 15 years ago.  Time sure flies when you’re having fun…and taking care of two small humans.

Now, I just need to know…is it mandatory that I get one of those soccer ball stickers for my car?  God, I hope not.

Yesterday I followed through (sort of) on something that I’ve been meaning to do for about eight years.

When I was pregnant with Becca, I went through the normal tests and such that are associated with being pregnant.  Somewhere along the line, I found out that my blood type was O negative.  After my c-section, one of the nurses had mentioned that I should give blood, because type O blood can be given to anybody (Well, O negative can be given to anybody who is ‘negative.’).  At that point in time I told myself that yes, I would donate blood.  It’s just the right thing to do, and I remember when I was younger that my father donated blood all the time.

So, last week I made an appointment.  I headed to the Central Blood Bank office to give my share.  I realize that it had taken a long time for me to follow through on this.  But, oh well…such is life.  I was getting around to it now.  And it’s not like I have a fear of needles, or blood, or anything medical.  The only thing I can’t do is watch them actually put the needle in my skin.

I did what I was supposed to do…I ate breakfast, drank plenty of water, and had a good attitude.  After I finished up the medical questions, all of which I passed with flying colors, I was ready to go.  The nice girl sat me in a chair and prepped me.  As she was checking out my veins, I told her that I had some previous problems with nurses finding exactly where to take blood.  She assured me that it shouldn’t be a problem, and found a nice vein in my right arm.  She stuck the needle in (and no, I didn’t look), and off we went.  First they have to fill up three vials of blood (not sure why), and then they move onto the donation bag.  The three vials came out just fine.  They hooked up the bag, and it started to fill.

But then, it stopped.

It was like my body decided that it needed whatever was left in there.  She poked the needle around, trying to get it to start again.  Unfortunately, I watched that.  Bad decision on my part.  I got a huge head rush, and mentioned it.  They laid me back and put an ice pack on my chest.  They tried a bit more to get that blood flowing, but no go.  This sweet girl apologized that I would probably have a big, pretty bruise there.  She said that my veins were just small.  Meh, bruises aren’t a big deal.  They fed me some diet Pepsi and cookies, and told me that I could try again in 56 days.

I guess I will try again.  I felt bad that I couldn’t actually follow through on this plan.  If it doesn’t work the next time, then I guess I’m just keeping my blood to myself

Photo courtesy of RebeccaLK’s Flickr photostream

And it’s all my fault.

Why?  Well first off, just last week I said this:  ”As long as we can make it past parade day, I think we’ll be clear of any big snow.”

Shit.  Parade day is tomorrow.

Plus, I put my faith in that damn groundhog.  He definitely deserves a punch in the face.  Definitely.  But there is a ray of sunlight in all of this…and it will be around an hour later than we’re used to.  Don’t forget to “spring forward” tomorrow before you go to bed.  And if you’re just in a big ol’ drunken stupor because you’ve been celebrating at the St. Patrick’s Day parade (or at Downey’s House)?  Just set that clock forward before you leave the house.

Have a great weekend!

About a month ago, all Chloe could do was complain about “Dylan.” She would get off the bus and complain that “Dylan is SO loud! Dylan gets on my nerves! I hate Dylan! Blah, blah, blah.

About two weeks after that, she stepped off the bus, looked up at me with a crooked-teeth smile and asked, “Mom, can I have a play date with Dylan?”

“I thought you didn’t like Dylan?” I said.

“ILoveHimNowAndHe’sMyBoyfriend.”

My brain thought, “Oh shit, here we go.”

So, I told her that I didn’t have a phone number for Dylan (a small white lie, I suppose I could have looked it up in the directory). A week later she was home with a phone number. So, I guess I have to set up a time to hang out with Dylan.

Under strict parental supervision.

Her teacher even said that she can see that they’ve been very buddy-buddy. It’s quite cute. He’s cute. She’s cute.

It’s a big ol’ bucket of cute.

And hopefully not a glimpse into the future I’m gonna have to deal with.

Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules Online Trailer

Damn groundhog.  I would have taken Chloe to punch him in the head, but there was too much snow.

The kids ended up not having school on Tuesday, which put them home for SIX DAYS IN A ROW.  Don’t get me wrong, I definitely enjoyed them.  But without having the luxuries of summer activities like the pool and just BEING outside, they were ready for school.  After about four days.

So, the weather is definitely still winter.  But me?  My attitude is gearing up for spring.  I’ve started re-arranging stuff in the house.  I’m gaining a new sense of purpose, and I’m motivated.  That’s MY big sign for spring.  I never, ever start projects in the winter.  Well, I might start them, but I stop them in about five minutes.  I’m enjoying my renewed energy, and I’m relishing in my great attitude.

And I won’t even let sleet, rain, snow or ice ruin it.

Point is, if I have this feeling, I know that ACTUAL spring is coming.  Soon.  So hang in there.  Trust me.

Hell, I may even wash my car.  Poor thing hasn’t been washed since October.

OK, I can’t decide if this is winter weather or early spring weather. I’m not sure if I should let Chloe “punch that groundhog right in the face,” or tell her to cool her jets. Bad news? 3-5 inches by tomorrow morning. Good news? Well, it should melt pretty quickly. I’ll let the deciding factor be this: If we have a two hour delay tomorrow, I will say it’s still winter, and let the punching commence. (The girls have already been home for five days straight, a two hour delay may be just the thing that would push me over the edge). No two hour delay, and I’ll happily go about my day just waiting for the sun to melt the evil stuff that fell from the sky.

By the way, Girl Scout cookies are in. I will be sorting and figuring tonight, and will take most of them to the restaurant for pick up. If you’re lucky, I’ll deliver them on Wednesday.

Unless I have to take Chloe to punch a groundhog.

Thursday started as a regular (but warm) day.  I threw the kids on the bus and headed home to do some work.  About a half an hour later, I got a call from my friend.  He had to drop something off to the school that his daughter had forgotten.  He said that the school smelled like gas, and there were fire trucks and ambulances.  He said he was taking his daughter home.  Well, I wrestled back and forth with the decision, and finally decided to just yank mine out of school, too.  I didn’t want them sitting and getting nauseous, and if they ended up with an early dismissal, I figured I would beat the rush.

Well, long story short, I got my kids, all my neighbors got their kids, and they moved all the other children over to the middle school to just kill time all day.  Me?  I took the kids to the zoo a day early.  It was 65 degrees, sunny, and we decided to have fun with our curve ball.

We had a great day.  There was hardly anybody at the zoo, and we got to watch the animals for as long as we wanted.  The kids were in a great mood, and there was absolutely no complaining or whining. (Well, there was the occasional, “Are we there yet???”  But I don’t even really hear those anymore).

Usually I make sure that I leave the zoo in plenty of time to beat the traffic.  But that day?  It just didn’t matter.  Traffic, schmaffic.  As we headed home, we talked about getting close to home and stopping for ice cream.  I drove home through Lawrenceville and the Strip, and I followed through on something I had been meaning to do…Stop at Klavons Ice Cream.  I’ve driven past it a bunch of times, but never actually stopped.  The kids enjoyed sitting at the counter, and they got to pick out some classic candy.  I even got some of those little jaw breakers in a box.  Love those.  I remember paying 10 cents at a basketball game for them.  Well, they’re a quarter now…which is perfect…because I got to say “Hey, when I was little these were only ten cents.”

If I have to get old, I wanna do all the old people stuff I can.

I’ve really been trying to live in the moment, and enjoy every single day.  It wasn’t hard that day.  So I figure, next time I’m having a hard time enjoying my day, I’ll just close my eyes and think about our trip to the zoo.