Interruptions.

Riding home tonight I was listening to the local 80's station. They were doing an all-request show and the requests rocked. I punched the ceiling of the van a few times while I was singing along.

Don and I were singing the duet version of "Boys of Summer" when Ms. Boo interrupted. (I know children do not understand the significance of singing a duet with Don Henley, but can she not see that I am POUNDING ON THE CEILING, for goodness sake?) I quickly quieted Boo down, and was able to concentrate again. On the road, you ask? Heavens, no. On the visions. Visions of that video (one of VERY few I can remember) came drifting into my head. Just as we get to my favorite line (out on the road today, I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said don't look back, you can never look back,) I smiled to myself. Because, if YOU remember the video, you know that he does, indeed, look back.

Suddenly, I am interrupted AGAIN, and my cheerful countenance gives way to furrowed eyebrows.

Boo again? No, no, no. Something much more insidious.

It's my own brain. In overdrive.

It went kinda like this:

Me, to myself: If he had to look BACK to see her, how did he know there was a Dead Head sticker on her car? Do people put stickers on the front of their cars? Is that, like, some kind of tradition among Dead Heads that they put stickers on the FRONT of their cars? Am I confused? Is there some way that he could have seen the sticker on the BACK of the car, yet still needed to turn around to see her again? Could they have been driving in the same direction and then passed her? Or did one of them make a turn? Didn't the video show them driving in opposite directions? Am I not remembering it correctly?

STOP IT, BRAIN! You are ruining the whole song! STOP, STOP, STOP!

I am so totally serious. This is the brain I live with.

Every. Single. Day.

Six Weird things about me

Okay, well, Addie tagged me to do a meme - six weird things about me. I often read these lists and I think, "well, that's not so weird" because I know that a lot of people do the same things. So, I am trying to think of things that I do that few others could say they do too. But, in order for it to be considered WEIRD, I imagine that it must also be something that doesn't have a good explanation.

There are a few things that I do which I think would gross people out. They are definitely weird, but I don't think this would be the best place to share them.

Here's what I thought of:
1. I do this thing every (and I mean EVERY) time I eat cereal. While I am chewing, I hold the end of the spoon handle so that the tip rests in the space between my index finger and my middle finger. Then, I shake the spoon so that it alternately hits the first knuckles of said fingers.

Why I do this, I have no idea. I do it without even thinking. Why I only do this with cereal is totally beyond me. And I only do it with the silverware we have here at our house, I guess because it "fits" in my hand right.

2. I talk to myself*. I haven't noticed myself doing it much lately. But, when I was in college I would walk around campus (alone) and realize that I had been talking to myself for the last 5 minutes. (No wonder I couldn't get any dates, eh?)

3. I can't sit still. My hands have to be doing something - and it usually involves sticking something underneath my fingernails. (Nothing painful) For example, I can think of times I have gone to a bridal shower at church where there is confetti on the tables. If I get to talking with someone for a while, I will, without realizing it, pick up a piece of confetti, and continually fit it under a nail, remove it, do it again. It works during church with the smooth corners of my Bible pages or the edge of a bulletin too. (I think this is why I am always picking at my lips too. Oh, wait, is that gross? Sorry. But I do that without noticing most of the time too.)

4. Any small finger food that is "countable" is eaten only in even numbers. (I am not obsessive about it, though I think I was moreso at one time. I don't feel frazzled if it doesn't work out in even numbers, but I do prefer it that way.) And I have to give equal chew time to each side of my mouth.

5. I speak nonsense to my children. When I say "nonie noons" they know exactly what this means.

6. When I am chewing cereal (what is it with cereal?) and reading the box at the same time, I chew the syllables of the words. Like one chew is one syllable, or if I want to read faster, I allow a syllable for every time my jaw opens or closes. (Does that make sense?)

7. Hey, I'm on a roll. I see things around me and I often think that there must be a mathematical equation to describe it. Sometimes I even try to figure it out. Sometimes I just try to figure out the gist of it. Like the time there was a truck driving in front of me with tires that were obviously too big. So as I drove along, I had to try to figure out if that would cause his odometer to read too high, or too low. And in that case, it would have bugged me if I didn't figure it out right then and there.

8. I go absolutely stark, raving mad if I have to wear shoes with laces for too long. I have one pair of sneakers and I can't wear them an entire day. I wore them for about 4 1/2 hours yesterday and by the end of it I could tell I was fast approaching my limit. All my other shoes are slip ons.

9. Sometimes I count my steps. I'll get up to some ridiculous number before I think "why are you doing this?"

10. If I am really paying attention, I will occasionally count the number of stairs in a flight. I don't do this very often though, because if the number ends up being odd, I feel "lopsided" for a while. If I notice that I am doing something like starting a repetetive task with my right foot, I will often start doing it with my left to give it equal time.

11. Sometimes I try to name all fifty states. Just to see if I can.

You can read about some of these and a few others in this post from long ago.

*see comments

I will never, ever, ever....

I realize I am about to risk coming off as an old frump, but a girl's got to have her standards.

I absolutely refuse to continue reading any blog that contains the word "prolly."

If you can even call that a word, because it's not.

I can handle "cuz." I am only mildly frustrated when people don't use periods. I can even overlook an overzealous "LOL" user if the post is interesting enough (though I have to wonder if people are really LOL as much as they say they are.)

But, "prolly" is where I draw the line.

I stop reading. End of story - or post, as the case may be.

I just thought I'd make that public, in case anyone was wondering if I'd read their blog.

I am willing to admit

Okay, moms. You know that smell that kids get when they are grimey and sorta sweaty and haven't had a bath in two days and they just woke up from a nap and drooled all over the place?

I LOVE that smell.

The Trouble With Ohio

As many of you know, I grew up in Connecticut. Great state, that Connecticut. Quite lovely in many respects. I miss it sometimes.

But I live in Ohio now. Me gusta Ohio. Great place to live. Lovely state, all around. I am happy to live in Ohio. Mind you, I'm no Buckeye fan (and, if you are like me, you might not know what a buckeye is until you move to Ohio.) But, I'm no UConn fan either. So there you go.

But I suppose if I had to decide where my loyalties lie, they'd come up on the Ohio side. Fine, fine place, this Ohio.

With one exception.

No one here knows how to do ice cream.*

I began noticing ice cream infractions right after college, when I was living on my own and doing all the important things that single women do when they start out life on their own. You know, things like finding the best ice cream joints.

I have been annoyed, on several occasions, because of the way that people "do" ice cream here. It happened again this past weekend, and I started wondering why I get annoyed. I have concluded that I have long held a subconscious list of ice cream rules. I realized I had several rules which govern my expectations when eating ice cream. Some might consider them ice cream minutiae, but they have led to many a disappointment for me. I think these rules, in part, came from my ice cream experiences when I was growing up in Connecticut. But, Connecticut or Ohio, I truly believe that THIS is how ice cream should be done.

Here are the rules:

1. Ice cream joints should be open all year.
This concept of closing down your shop for 9 months out of the year is ludicrous. What's the matter with everyone? Do people stop eating ice cream just because it gets cold? That's STUPID!

2. If you are going to sell ice cream, you must sell vanilla AND chocolate, at the very least.
What's up with going to a Dairy Queen and being told that they only sell vanilla? At DAIRY QUEEN? Geez, more like Dairy Pauper... selling only one flavor... and the LAMEST ONE, at that!

3. Hard pack ice cream should be, um, HARD.
If you aren't breaking your wrist when you are dipping it (scooping it, in CT) then it might as well be soft serve. And don't try to sell me that stupid Pampered Chef ice cream scoop with antifreeze in the handle that melts the ice cream when you dip it. If I wanted melted ice cream I'd drink chocolate milk. Hard pack isn't supposed to be slimy. It's supposed to be hard.

4. A chocolate milkshake should be made with CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM.
What, I must know, is the point of making a shake with chocolate milk and vanilla ice cream, when you can use chocolate ice cream and get WAY better results? (Unless you are at that Dairy Queen, that is...) No one out here does this. I swear. I first encountered this ridiculousness during my maiden voyage to Steak n Shake. A restaurant which, go figure, only serves vanilla ice cream. Everyone was telling me how great Steak n Shake was. After ordering a single steakburger - which is like eating a beef-flavored piece of paper on a bun - I was served this pseudo chocolate shake. All I could think was hmmm the steak stunk, and the shake is even worse!

5. A malt is a milkshake (in other words, it's drinkable,) with malt in it.
The Spot, the "famous" diner in Sidney, Ohio, makes one killer old fashioned cream pie. But don't order a malt there. It is literally soft serve in a cup. WhaaAAAAAAT?

6. A sundae has whipped cream.
Stop asking me if I want whipped cream when I order a sundae. Of course I want whipped cream. If I didn't, I would have ordered a cup.

I am sure this all sounds rather silly to you all. But I have given this a lot of thought, and I think this really is how ice cream should be done. It just doesn't make sense any other way.

I am contacting my congressmen.

(*With the notable exception of Graeter's. Them folks got some stinking good 'scream.)

Something more interesting

is on the way soon. I promise. I am working on a much more cerebral post.

But, until it is done, the following will have to do.

My stats say that someone from Chappaqua, NY has been visiting my blog. It's Bill, I just know it. (As in Clinton... not my neighbor and fellow church member.) Great having you, Bill. Leave a comment some time!!!

I went to a HS girls b-ball game on Thursday night. It was at the school where I used to teach. I decided that it is a good thing I am not teaching anymore. One of my pet peeves is having hair on my forehead or in my eyes. So, I can't stand seeing people with hair in their eyes. It makes me think that they must be going crazy to have it there. Seeing it evokes an unnecessary urge in me to sweep hair out of my own eyes... kinda like when you clear your own throat when someone else's voice is garbley.

So, I am standing in line to get a candy bar at half time and I am looking around: all these kids have hair hanging down to their noses. And I am thinking, if I were still teaching, I would be handing out hairbands as my students came into class b/c I'd go crazy looking at them for any extended period of time.

I miss teaching like I miss assigned reading.

Anyway, Paul was working at the game, and he took the kids with him while he did some important stuff. So I sat in the gym enjoying the "alone" time while the varsity teams warmed up, which, at a high school game, can only be accomplished if there is really loud music playing. I was just sitting there, zoned out... when I heard it...

the lead-in on bass...

the two notes on the piano... and...

All right stop. Collaborate and listen...

It's Ice, Ice Baby... and I can't control myself. There I am tapping my feet (and trying, in vain, not to bob my head) when I realize that I am also lip syncing along with Vanilla. I would've busted out laughing at myself, but I didn't want to interrupt my performance as I was curious to see how much of the song I could remember.

I didn't do too bad. (Perhaps I too, am a lyrical poet.)

In other news, we have been laying down the law for the last three nights, trying to get Boo to go to bed without our assistance. She hasn't liked the process and has, understandably, been a bit frustrated with the new rules we are imposing.

Last night, while in bed, Boo decided to remove all the beads from a "candy-cane" that she'd made out of a pipe cleaner. In the dark, she lost the pipe cleaner and started crying. I went in and (firmly) stated that I would not look for it and that I would not be coming back in her room once I left. Being 3 1/2, she lacks the ability to just "forget about it" so she kept asking for me to find it. I kept telling her the same thing and made my way towards the door. Boo was so tired and so frustrated with my responses over these last few nights, that she put her hands up to her face and exclaimed, "you are so NUTS to me at night time!"

Hee hee!

Quirky, Berzerky

I know I'm quirky:

- Whenever possible, I try to eat (small) food like M&Ms, crackers, or carrot sticks in twos.
- When I am involved in a long conversation on the phone or in person, I almost always find something to play with like a piece of paper, a fork, or a wrapper of some sort. By the end of the conversation, it is all twisted up, or bent or chewed on or something...
- When I see something that can be recycled in the regular trash, I "rescue" the item for recycling.
- I can't stand sleeping on top of my hair or having any wrinkles in the pillow case underneath my face.
- I also hate the feeling of my hair on my forehead. (Unfortunately, I like the look of long bangs that is back in style now... so I am left to choose between vanity and sanity.)
- When I go to sleep, I make wrinkles in the sheet and run my toes between them.
- I have memorized the test announcement for the "Emergency Broadcast System."
- When I pick up the kids' toys, I group everything together. For example, the lifelike farm toys and the "cartoonish" farm toys are separated into different boxes. Maybe this is not such a big deal... except that I actually tried to explain the system to Ms. Boo, who had no clue what I was talking about.
- I have a collection of PEZ dispensers. Though, in my defense, I am not really responsible for this.
- I like to buy fabric even if I don't know what I am going to do with it.
- I drink milk with ice cubes.

Anybody got any quirks they'd like to share. I am interested in hearing...