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{Friday, September 27, 2002}

I deleted all my cookies today (in a bold move for one so fresh from computer hell) and suddenly I'm Ms. Anonymous. I have to log-in everywhere. It makes me feel like a freshman. I kind of like it!

Just had to jump up and turn off HBO - some comedian was yelling motherfucker into the microphone and I couldn't tolerate that as background noise. Sometimes I don't even notice, but tonight - annoying. It's probably all of the calories. I started the day lovely - coffee, no food - off to the gym. Then, the weekly downfall: Playgroup. Yes, yes - but not even *that* bad there. Hummus - raw vegetables . . . practically Health Food! Okay, so I did eat a couple of cool ranch Doritos (with *beans* on them though!), but nothing drastic. But then evening came and the hummus got cracked out here and then the kids ate dribs and drabs (and I ate their leftovers). Then Steve came home late and we had a proper dinner (I just had salad). But, ugh, off to Walgreens for the B&J. *Out* of New York Super Fudge Chunk, good and bad, so Half-Baked had to do. Steve and I ate it all. eEEK. Not good. Probably a good 3,000 calories today. Technically about a pound of gainage here. If I don't starve tomorrow, I'll miss my Sunday goal. Damn the weakness anyway!

I watched the last part of the Apollo 13 movie last night and was reminded of something. When Forest Gump came out, most teens and youth-types didn't care much for it. It just wasn't the Way Back Machine for them that it was for adults (even very young ones like I was at the time) -- sort of like us watching the in-jokes of the 1890's. Whatever. But a teenaged friend of mine (daughter of a friend, but also a friend of mine now) liked it. She was about 11 at the time and she adored the film. She also has a strong fondness for the Beatles.

I was like this as a kid too. I read every book about Vietnam that I could get my hands on - even if I didn't fully understand them. I was ravenous for the information. I became a fan of 40's movie stars and collected old magazines and current articles about them. I had (and still do, to some extent) a feeling of nostalgia for those times, even though I obviously did not experience them. It seems like people like this (me) are drawn to others that are similar. It's a strange thing that I'd never put together before, but if someone has a strong interest in history that is not their own, they are *much* more interesting. Will ponder more.

I saw a sign today for Longaberger baskets. Hats off the Longaberger people who have been successfully fleecing people with 5000% markups on BASKETS for over 10 years now. I am completely amazed. Do they have hypnotists at the parties? Crack in the baskets? Yes, they are *lovely* and they are Very Well Made, but hell people - they are BASKETS. They are totally non-functional items (okay, so they can hold magazines and fruit). Couldn't you get a Nicely Made basket out of the Spiegel catalog and be happy? For god's sakes. I'm impressed though. The other pyramid scheme/party hell type businesses have to sell their items at market value. The beauty of the basket is that no one *knows* what the market value is because NO ONE was out comparison shopping for them recently.

Okay, so here you are. Now Pul-lease. Sixty-nine dollar for a basket. This is a normal, typical sized basket that one thinks of when the word "basket" is used. How much do you think this cost to make? Ten dollars? Fifteen? My gawd, I am fainting. Here is a page (a loooong one) totally devoted to charms for bracelets celebrating the basket. This site also sells *retired* baskets. RETIRED. They got tired man. There is one targeted for Father's Day (oh goodie, a basket! dad says, I didn't really want that gun anyway!) and it $58. Wouldn't Dad rather have a steak?
posted by Lisa 11:22 PM

{Wednesday, September 25, 2002}

You Never Buy Me Anything!

We're in chicken pox intermission here folks. One kid back at school, the other on deck just waiting for the telltale fever. Tonight, just about an hour after going to bed Morgan woke crying -- so it may be starting already. Good ole' Emma you can always count on her to sleep during the nighttime, no matter what. A daughter with my own philosophies! At least on that subject. Tonight, as we were making a very quick Target stop, Emma spied a cute sweatshirt. She immediately asked if we could buy it. I immediately said no (with a scoff too, I'm sure). And she said it, for the very first time (oh, where is that baby book?!), "You never buy me anything!" Steve LOL'd when I recounted this to him. He even asked for verification, 'She *really* said that?' Yep, she did.

And though I almost fainted at this rite of passage there in the Target aisle, I realized that she meant that any time she has ever asked for cheaply-made, overpriced retail clothes, I have said NO. And I will continue to say no under those circumstances. This, likely, is held in comparison to her shopping 'spree' last year with Jennifer and Stephanie. She left Target with her hippie items: new jeans (with suede rawhide drawstring front), two shirts (one crocheted, one Bratz!), two pairs of shoes (one "Charlie's Angels" and one clear flower slides) and a necklace. We'll just have to find a happy medium on this one though. Full-price Target is not for me. Even clearance Target makes me woozy as I know the stuff won't make it to see Morgan, or even the spring, in one piece. It'll have to be Goodwill Hippie.

There were a handful of fathers at dance class tonight. The majority looked like they had been called into service by a busy wife, just putting-up-with-it, but charmed by their three and four year olds in their pink leotards. Then there is always the one, rarely two, that seems just way too Into It. Like really enjoying the Dance Studio atmosphere. And I think, just how long until these guys Come Out? When their kids are teens? When they get caught? As a wife, I would be highly nervous about a husband enjoying the dance mom hubbub in the studio lobby. I mean, have they *not* been reading Cosmo since the 5th grade? Do they *not* know about the signs that your husband may be 'passing'? Ah, maybe I'm just prejudiced and swayed by my manly-man husband. Maybe they are just more In Touch with their feminine sides; maybe they enjoy the teens that flow in at the end of the toddler class; maybe they will be careful and never caught.

Our furnace quit working. Actually, that's not true. Our *air conditioner* stopped working last week (back in the Old Days before we wanted a heating unit functional). It froze up completely and the blower would not blow. THIS week we wanted heat. Always something, nag, nag, nag. It's been 66 degrees the last two morning that I've come downstairs. Eeek. My tropical bird thinks he's died and gone to hell. I finally got my act together yesterday and called the Home Warranty company. I expected very little. However, a kindly fellow named Dennis took my chill to heart and insisted a local contractor would call. They did! I was shocked and oh, so pleased.

Mike the friendly repairman arrived today. He was waiting for me when I got home late. I apologized and he said, "What for?" I liked him already. Dennis, my buddy, had warned me that some things were Covered and some things were Not. The repair people would call them and let them know what the problem was before making the repair, seeing if it was covered. Mike surveyed the sitch and announced it was the Controller Board. I said that it sounded like something that should be Covered, something big. He made the call, pulled the part, returned to the basement and there was heat. Ah, splendid heat. By this time it was 2:00 p.m. and it was much warmer outdoors than inside. We went outside in our layers of clothing and were immediately hot. Tonight when Morgan cried, I checked the girls and they were both smothering. Sweaty little dreamers. I turned on the a/c. While I have been typing this, Harley has left the back door open and the heat has come on. Yes, it is definitely fall.
posted by Lisa 10:13 PM