38 is shaping up to be pretty darned great.
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So my family went to Busch Gardens and I wrote about it here.
A teacher in Port St. Lucie, Florida got her job back, and I’m not happy about it. Read why.
This week, at 5 Minutes for Special Needs, I talk about my son’s broken volume control issues and request knowledge on the best earplugs.
Michael Jackson was my first MTV crush.
I loved his videos, I loved his music. I proudly displayed his Thriller album on my wall, along with the poster of him in the yellow sweater. I religiously watched Billie Jean, and when they debuted the World! Premiere! Video! of Thriller, I was right there with millions of others, watching video (and television!) history being made. I was there.
I’d loved Michael Jackson long before that though.
At my summer camp (at Disney, of all places! Kinder Kare HOLLA!!) one of my teachers had a copy of Off the Wall, and we would listen to that album on the playground, during pool time, and every chance we could. We’d sing “She’s Out of My Life” quietly and “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” at the top of our lungs. We’d dance to “Off the Wall” and “Rock With You” in mini dance offs. I still count that as one of my best Summers ever.
His music would show up in my life again and again. PYT. Bad. The Way You Make Me Feel. Smooth Criminal. Say, Say, Say. Black and White. Leave Me Alone.
Especially We Are The World.
I even owned the Jacksons Victory cassette. You should check it out. I would have sold my soul to attend the concert. Sadly, my mom didn’t buy it.
Growing up in Orlando, it was known that Michael Jackson spent time here. Locals talked about how they saw him here or there, and everybody knew about his Suite at the Royal Crown Plaza Hotel. You knew when he was in town, or at the park. You just knew.
Michael Jackson was a huge part of my childhood. And now with the deaths of Ed McMahon (Star Search) and Farrah Fawcett (Charlie’s Angels) my childhood is officially over.
I guess it’s time to be a grownup.
Drat.
One of the reasons I chose Word Press as the platform I wanted to continue writing on was because sometimes I need to get things out that I don’t want everyone to read. Like say, my fifth grade teacher if she was so inclined to read my blog (hey, it could happen!).
This Father’s Day something in me just broke. My post was inspired by this post, and not because the post itself was awful, because it was AMAZING. I sat at my computer with tears rolling down my face because at one point in my life, I thought I had that. I thought I had that kind of relationship too. And maybe I did. At that point in my life. I no longer have that, and honestly up until that moment I didn’t think I missed it as much anymore. Many years of therapy and time have helped me cope, and I thought I was okay.
Until that post.
And this song.
I’m not okay. But I feel better, and that is all I can ask for because that is about the only closure I will probably get.
Just breathe. Yes.
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I’m in Charlotte, NC to visit family, then rush home to unpack then repack to spend a few days out at Disney with some incredible Mom Bloggers. This is one of the few times my family will get to join me on a Blogger trip, and I am really excited. The boys have no idea where they are going, and I think they will be very surprised!!
So with that, I’m off!
Please stop by Dawg’s place and send him some love.
Oh, HAI!!
It’s summer, and whoever said I should wait until summer to do all those “home improvement” projects should be shot.
Oh yeah, that person was me. Oops.
So, I’m swamped. I’m cleaning, I’m packing to go to North Carolina to visit family for a few days, and I’m posting at other places. For instance:
– At Deep South Moms Blog I discuss the Alex Barton case and my opinion on whether Wendy Portillo should get her job back.
– At Uptake.com, I’m talking about our latest family day trip to Busch Gardens in Tampa Bay and why a large wooden roller coaster might not be the best first roller coaster experience for a 7 year-old.
- I gave away some delicious Haagen Dazs Five pints of ice cream to two lucky winners! (Congratulations to Drew and Virginia!)
- And next week? Check The Crazed Mommy Reviews for a chance to win a Poken for your very own!! Just in time for Blogher!
So, if you see a green van on the highways with two frazzled parents and two boys fighting over who’s playing what games on who’s DS, feel free to wave. I will wave back, I promise!
Are we THERE yet?!?
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Spiff graduates from middle school
June 4, 2009
Our Family, 2009
These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
Sand Castle Construction 101
These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
Wha? It's Magically Delicious!
If you look close, you can see a rainbow!
Cheers!
These are the Days – 10.000 Maniacs
Maybe it’s because of all the plans I have been making as of late with old friends. Maybe it’s my upcoming high school reunion. Maybe it’s all the #80stweets I’ve been reading (and making!) on Twitter. Maybe I’m just harkening back to a simpler time, when the only thing I had to stress over was what outfit to wear out on a Friday night and the term paper that was due at the end of the grading period. Whatever it is…
I want a mix tape.
Not just any mix tape, mind you. The kind that was given to you by someone who was crushing on you. The one with all those songs hand-selected by that guy, you know the one. The one you stole kisses from in front of your locker. THAT kind of mix tape.
Sure, now all you have to do is pick songs from iTunes, burn them on a CD, and viola! But that’s not the kind of mix tape I’m talking about. That’s too easy.
I’m talking about the one where you listened to the radio for HOURS; waiting for that ONE song to be played. When it finally did play, you had to be ready to record and through the entire song you prayed the DJ would wait to do their schtick until after the last note was played. You had to be quick too. One second too long and you had to try to reset the tape so the next song will record over your mistake.
It was mixing and DJing back in the day. It meant something. You had to work for it to make it perfect.
This was the mix tape every girl wanted. The one with songs of undying love and emotion. Those forever songs that, even now when you hear them play even in Muzak form, you are transported in your mind back to that dance floor at that dance where you prayed the chaperones didn’t see where your date’s hands were REALLY going. Those songs that stand the test of time. The ones you might put on one of those iTunes burned CDs today.
Remember that mix tape?
I want THAT mix tape.
So, if you know me in real life, I’m kind of a people pleaser.
No, seriously, I am.
You can stop laughing now. Seriously.
It is my goal in life to make people happy. Content. Thrilled with everything.
I will bend over backwards, I will borderline (or just outright) annoy you making sure you are happy. I will drive you nuts.
It’s a gift, people. One I’d love to return to the store for a full refund. But I’ve been told there was a 30-Day return policy, and we’re 30+ years past that point.
Or it’s a side effect of my Jewish guilt.
Anyway.
If I have learned anything in the past few days, no matter how hard I try, no matter how personal I take things, no matter how much I listen, and try to accommodate…
YOU SIMPLY CAN NOT PLEASE ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE.
Even if you want to. Badly. Desperately.
You’re welcome.
Lately I have found myself surfing the channels to find something to watch on TV. It’s become a vast wasteland out there, now with The Real Housewives of New York over. So while I bide my time until the reunion show and The Real Housewives of New Jersey (Holla, @Jonniker!) I have found a show that every time I pass it, I’m compelled to watch.
And it makes my husband a little bit no a LOT nervous:
It’s Snapped on the Oxygen Channel.
(no lie, as I’m linking this up, I have the window open to the show and the intro music made my husband’s head snap up from his game and look at me with crazy eyes..)
I can’t help it. I love true crime stories, because I personally can’t fathom how someone could think, even for a minute, that they wouldn’t get caught. Me? I’d TOTALLY get caught. So I watch in fascination of the stupidity of it all, and I’m hooked.
It also seems like every time my husband enters the room one of these shows is on. (Give it a few more weeks; Oxygen will run constant episodes of Tori & Dean, and his head will really explode!) He is constantly commenting that he just knows I’m taking notes on how to kill him and bury the body and get away with it.
He says I need to ask you, dear Internet, if he should feel justified in his fears that I am going to use the show as “research”, and that his days are numbered.
So? Should he be worried? Fearful? Sleep with one eye open?
I say no. Every story ends with the woman getting caught and jailed. It’s not like the show is providing me a road map on how to off my husband.
Besides, I can find that on the Internet anyway. Who needs a TV show for that anymore?
Honey? Hey! Where are you going? …Honey?
