SewerSota

Once upon a time, a cute little couple visited the gulf coast of Florida. They went back several times, each time better than the last. In December, 2007, when it was 30 degrees in Ohio, they traveled down there for 5 days, laying on the powdery white sand, chugging tasty beverages, swimming in the crystal blue pool, walking on the pier, and having NOT a care in the world. Then, when aforementioned cute little couple celebrated their 15th anniversary in March 2008, they went BACK. Sipping more tasty spirits (do you see a theme?), watching dolphins flip, and sitting poolside, once again, culminated into a fab visit. Well, the brighter the sun shone, and the more drinks that were consumed, the more the conversation seemed to go like this:

"Why the hell do we live in Ohio?"
"Because..."

"Seriously. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Your job is tanking. You want to quit. So why not move here?"
"Hmmm. Yeah. Why NOT?"
"Seriously."
"YEAH!"
"HELL YEAH!"
"Sheeeit. We's movin'. Gimme another drink."

"BARKEEP! Another round!"
"OK, so we'll move here."
"Yes! Yes, we will!"

It all made such perfect sense. The dumbass couple raced home, listed their house, and the gentleman made a grand announcement to his office that they would be moving when the house sold. (Never mind that for the next 3 months his co workers and boss would nervously ask: 'umm, so, when do you think you'll be moving to Florida?") The wife began researching areas, schools, neighborhoods, and all signs pointed to Sarasota... the supposed gem of the Gulf Coast. She ditched her winter sweaters. Then they (hahahha!) put a deposit down on a condo --as the wife said, "It'll be snapped up if we don't get it now!" -because, you know, the housing market is on fire down in Florida. (Wildly sarcastic laughter here). They ordered a POD. Was their house sold? Hell no. Did they have jobs? Hell no. They loudly proclaimed to friends and family they were leaving, dammit! "What about jobs?" Parents asked cautiously. "Ahh, screw jobs. We'll find something!" The wife chirped. "I'm renting kayaks and stocking lumber at Lowe's!" The husband declared. In June, 2008, they planned a reconaissance mission to Sarasota to get the lay of the land. The first thing the lady noticed was the pungent smell of shit. Everywhere. Then she realized there was nothing to do. It was DEAD. Then she realized she didn't even like the town. She was offered a job making $15 an hour while her hubby spoke with a few companies that were being killed from the economy and not hiring anyone. Then they realized there were no, what do you call them, BUSINESSES? in Sarasota. Then they realized a few sunny days of getting drunk and not working when it was grey and cold back home was enough to blind ANYONE-- but the reality of it was something else entirely. Then, their oldest daughter complained that the high school looked like a prison, and when they visited the condo they were locked into, the daughter noticed that her bedroom was microscopic. So she made THE hilarious comment of the entire trip: "Great. When I come home from my prison school I can lock myself in my cupboard."

The days dragged by during their visit in their little beach house, each one with more foreboding than the next. The husband began to beat himself over the head for his foolhardiness in not researching the job market in Florida. The wife consoled him and said "We'll land on your feet. Don't forget, you can rent jet skis on the beach." Well, the more the hubby thought about it, the more he knew he really couldn't rent jet skis (or even kayaks). One day, he got into his $500 suit and drove back into SewerSota for a final "interview" and the receptionist sadly said: "Oh, gee, was that today? Todd's out of the country." The wife received a stark text that simply said: "Well I was blown off. Dude out of the country. Sign from God." Finally, their 7 days were up and they fled back to Ohio...where, funny thing, the husband got 2 job offers almost instantly.

Upon reaching the lush, green, alligator-free grasses of Worthington, they fell to their knees and kissed the ground. As the wife drove to her FANTASTIC job, she gave thanks to the spirits above that she hadn't opened her big mouth and quit. She gazed upon the restaurants, art galleries, and shops of her city and appreciated it all with fresh eyes. They wrote a check for $2800 to get out of their lease and vowed to never speak of it again.

One night about a week after their return, the lovely couple started laughing and couldn't stop. It started when the wife commented, "Do you realize I have no winter clothes?" And then the insanity of the last 3 months dawned on them. The bullet they dodged was more like a bazooka. Moral of the story: Dorothy was right.

Sushi and Mayhem

First of all, let me say hola to everyone. We survived the 6-week holiday binge. I basically ate like Chris Farley—or, as I fondly say to a tempting treat in front of me: “I am going to go sooo Cookie Monster on your ass.” It was the pizzelles that made me pack on 6 pounds. Delish!!! Well, the twins had to choose a country to study at school, and they chose Italy. The culmination of this unit was “International Day” where all the kids brought in a food item from their country. I chose pizzelles for them to take—but I don’t have a pizzelle iron, so I went to Carfagna’s and picked up 6 dozen. I had told the girls how they were made, just incase anyone was curious—I didn’t necessarily tell them that we made THESE. Well, turns out Meg concocted a detailed story in front of the class regarding how she mixed the batter, poured them onto the griddle, pulled the lid down, and cooked them till they were brown…I was like, “Uhhh, Meggie, you didn’t have to LIE!”

We partied, feasted, and celebrated throughout November and December.
Oh—the very last CDU gig was in November. A typical VH-1 “Behind the Music” scenario: 45 minutes before the gig, our bass player (from 20 mins away) called and said, very casually and unfazed: “Ummm, my car won’t start.”

Matt was like, “Uhhh, should someone come get you?”
Bass player replied: “I’ll call you back.”

We didn’t hear back until about 15 minutes prior to the gig starting, when we were told Triple A was on the way. We were all in a panic.

The gig began late, but we suffered through—oh, with the exception of Matt’s guitar losing power during two songs…ahhhh, life on the road, man.

So here’s a funny story…yes, regarding another restaurant. (I see a theme here.) Last night, Russ and I went to get some sushi. Now, on a good day, this sushi place runs a bit slow—even when there are two tables, it’s quite a wait. So, I was prepared to grow a Rumpelstiltskin beard when we walked in and saw a full house and 2 bustling, stressing sushi chefs making those rolls so fast they were almost guaranteed to get a case of carpal tunnel. Still, I hoped for the best.

We sat down and waited—and waited—and waited. Finally, Waiter A scurried over and took our order. I promptly wrote down the 4 rolls we wanted. We waited—and waited—and waited. I grabbed Waiter B and asked for a glass of wine. He apologetically said he had no wine glasses. I said for him just to bring it to me in whatever he had. Ten minutes later, I got my wine in a water glass. By now, we had been here about 40 minutes.

Around this time, Waiter B stopped by and asked, “Have you ordered?”
I said, “Yes… a long time ago.”
He looked concerned, and I heard some tense Japanese shot back and forth as he consulted with the chefs.

About now, Waiter A showed up and said, “Did you order your sushi?”
I said, “YES.” (I mean, HE was the one who took our order!)

He, too, looked nervous and conferred with the chefs. The Japanese voices were raised a few more decibels. It was gonna be a rumble behind the sushi counter.

About now, people in the tables around us were grumbling too, because it was sooo slow. To appease the impending riot, Waiters A and B began tossing around soup, salad, and warm beans to shut people up and keep us munching and distracted. Problem was, we had nothing on our table—no napkins, silverware, or plates…so I began eating the salad with my fingers…finally I ate it leaf-by-leaf with chopsticks. (I tried scoring a fork, but finally gave up.) Russ commented our skeletons were going to be found in the chairs, chattering skulls like in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Finally, Waiter A apologetically brought us back our order form and said, “You just order again, okay?”

I quickly and sternly marked my choices again, and he took off.

I watched the sushi chefs stressing HARD, and hoped there weren’t beads of sweat in my sushi. Waiter B zipped by and said, “Just one minute on your food…” Then Waiter A zoomed past and assured us, “You’re next….”

I replied sadly, “I’m never getting my food, am I?”

Waiter A clasped his hands over his heart and said, “Oooohhhhh….” As if I had shot him.

FINALLY—our tray of food arrived, brought by Waiter A. Russ and I ripped into it like hungry pihranas. (By now we had been sitting for an hour and 20 minutes.)

Two minutes later, Waiter B smilingly brought over…a DUPLICATE tray of food.
We all looked confusedly at the plate we were devouring, to the new plate, and back. He stammered something, and finally set the new plate down saying: “Uhhh—just eat it.”

Almost simultaneously, a war of words erupted behind the sushi counter as the chefs ripped into Waiters A and B when they realized what had happened. I assume Japanese F-Bombs were dropped as plates were slammed around, and I prayed to God the Ginsu knives were out of sight. Russ whispered: “They’re going to commit hari kari back there.” I’ve never seen more stressed sushi chefs.

We stuffed our faces as the bellowing continued behind us—so much for the diet—and Russ ate right off the tray because he didn’t even have a plate!! Still, fat and happy, we finally left at 9:00. Moral of the story: Call beforehand.

Drinkin Spirits with the Spirits...

Attached, please find a photo of KFed and Britney, IE, Russ and me. We had a Halloween party on Friday and it was quite fun!!! Various ghouls, pirates, devils, princesses, bikers, tourists, scarecrows and hippies abounded. It was a blast!!!!
Tonight we're going to see the Chili Peppers with some friends. I am quite psyched-- we got great seats!!!
So all is well here in Pleasantville, USA. Twinnies are happy and chirpy (Chloe told me that when I got old she would cook my meals and pay my Geico insurance), and Jordy is hanging in there doing her thang.
Oh, last weekend (21st), Russ and I went to NYC. Goddang it, we walked until our feet were bloody stumps. My dear old friend lives there and I believe I left him a message saying something like... my feet felt like two mangled raccoons?? Anyway, we walked... walked....saw Central Park...saw Lincoln Center... walked....yelled at our nasty hotel employees... walked....walked across the Brooklyn Bridge...saw Ground Zero...walked.... saw Mamma Mia... walked.... saw the Village...went up the Empire SB....walked....oh, it was all perfect until the exhaustion kept up with me and we were sitting in this restaurant near 14th and University--- Russ just dashed into the first one he saw because he was famished-- and nothing on the menu appealed to me (Believe it. There's a first time for everything.) So, I ordered the spin dip appetizer, which I was NOT happy with because that wasn't really what I had in mind for our dinner. So his big-ass burger comes and I am eating cold spin dip with busted up pita chips. So I sent it back and sobbed, "I'll just have what he's having"... and pointed vaguely at his plate. So Russ inhaled his food, while I had nothing, and there I am staring sadly and crying and then I totally chicked out and sobbed about how he ruined the night, etc... I was like an over tired baby. He yelled at me to stand on the sidewalk while he got the check... (I suppose he kicked me to the curb.) Anyway I pulled it together and we took the bus back up to the upper west side where we were staying. Really, we had a good time.
Out for now!!

A Night at The Theatre....(A Copywriter's Satire).

Sometimes, I like to just follow where my sarcastic mind takes me, when I am writing a very serious, uplifting piece for a client. I think I will begin to publish these "Psuedo Projects." For example, I submit for my latest brochure:

Founded in 1975 and influenced by the likes of Grover, Kermit and other endearing puppet creatures, the goal of the Flamingo Theatre was to get children away from the TV and to firmly place their butts smack-dab in a theatre seat to get some culture. Parents enjoyed the tranquil darkness where they could take a nap as their children yammered, complained and squirmed next to them. In 1982, the Flamingo Theatre enlarged their lobby to accommodate the “Discipline Corner,” after it soon became apparent that these aforementioned parents, driven to an irritated rage, needed a place to drag their children after yanking them out of the seats, either to yell in a strained whisper or to administer corporal punishment with a hand, or perhaps a purse. In 1987, the lobby was renovated to include the “Hallway of Tears”, a long corridor leading outside to the street, where the crying children could be led away as to not disrupt the other theatergoers. Soon, the Hallway of Tears overflowed its capacity, as it became at any given time more crowded than the actual theatre. To accommodate for this problem, the Crying Hallway extended into the Terrace of Punishment, a quaint patio-like enclosure with an awning in the event of inclement weather. In 1991, after a widely-circulated petition was approved, the Theatre opened the Pub of Regrets, a full bar where parents could indulge themselves and drown their sorrows over the mistake of ever taking their damn brats to a play, while the chastened children milled about the Pub of Regrets’ stockroom, waiting for their intoxicated parents to take them home.

Here I am, Rock You Like Alberto...

(The line of the week, which Russ woke up and sang to me as a mini-hurricane
blew through our vacation condo)

On June 9 we loaded up our car--luggage and kids secure in the vehicle--and
at 2:30 am, we pulled out of our driveway. The girls thought it was a blast
to fall asleep in the back of the car at 11pm (we didn't feel like dragging
them down from their bedrooms, and yes, we locked the doors.) So we brewed
some coffee and, as I just said, hit the road at 2:30 AM. Of course, I
snoozed while stoic Russ drove, and I still whined when I woke up about how
tired I was. He has the stamina of a soldier in wartime...the boy doesn't
flinch.

At 8:30 AM, in Virginia, the girls stirred their sleepy heads and we pulled
into a Country Kitchen, where we did various tasks such as peeing, putting
in contacts (me), applying makeup as if for a photo shoot (Jordan),
complaining at the slow pace with which we were served our grub (me),
getting chided for being whiney (Russ), and then continuing on our merry
way, whereupon I inserted one of the many Books on Tape I had brought along
for the journey (Newbery winner, "Jacob Have I Loved", the tale of competitive twin sisters on an island in the Chesapeake Bay), much to the dismay and rolled eyes of my motley crew, (mainly Jordan, who wanted to play Pink's new CD.)

At 2:30 PM, we arrived at our rental office in Folly Beach, South Carolina;
grabbed the keys, and found our condo: an open, airy, brightly-colored
place with three bedrooms, three baths, and a balcony overlooking the
crashing surf. We flung the French doors open and let in the salty air,
excitement tingling me like I was six years old on Christmas morning. God
Damn, I love a beach. The girls hit the pool, and Russ and I ran down to the
Piggly Wiggly to get some groceries. The girls remained in the pool for the
next six days, only emerging on the last day pickled and liver-damaged like
David Blaine. Just kidding. But not by much.

The next day, we parked it at the beach and watched the girls boogie
board...Russ brought us a bucket of spirits on ice and we soaked up some rays.
Then we went into one of my favorite places, Charleston--a mere 10 miles away. We pigged out at Hymans and strolled around the darling cobblestone streets,peeking in the Circa-1600's Circular Congregational Church and reading the Olde English gravestones: , (IE, "Here Lyes Three Charminge Boys; Their father's Delight and Their Mother's Joye; Turned now to worms in this dark earth...") Etc etc. Creepy yet WAY COOL. Then, they were having a Jazz Vespers inside the quiet, air-conditioned church; so I sneaked in and relaxed to the soothing, tinkling piano melodies. I almost fell asleep!

The next day, after more skin-pruning and swimming, we went back into
Charleston and visited the Farmers Market, where I got suckered into buying
a bunch of crap. We then walked along the Battery and then popped into the
Edmonston-Allston house, where we stood on the piazzas and the drawing rooms
and saw all the 250-year-old furniture, etc. Oh, Ashley...Ashley...
Even the girls, who were dragging ass at that point, thought it was cool.

On Tuesday, Alberto roared in. It was a bummer of a day considering the storm blew in as we were on the damn ferry to Fort Sumter!!!
It was a monsoon; we could hardly see two feet in front of our face. We
huddled for an hour in the little museum on the island and after we took the
boat back, we had to walk about 2 miles to our car in the storm which was at
St Philip's Cathedral. Russ left us hunched under the awning of a State
Farm Insurance agency and sprinted to get the car. He rescued us 6 minutes
later. The rain didn't let up and I started getting REALLY depressed. We
were at dinner back on Folly Beach and I was being glum, my elbows on the
table and a dejected pout on my face, and Jordan said helpfully, "Hey Mom, there's a
bar over there!" I couldn't believe it; Russ and I DIED laughing!

The next morning, we woke up to a beautiful sunny day, and headed off to
Middleton Place...one of the most awe-inspiring places I have ever seen!
Acres and acres of formal gardens, marble statues, the ruins of a plantation
house that was burned by the Union army (but one of the houses still stood,
which we walked through etc.)...swans, ponds, bridges, all overlooking a bluff on the Ashley River. We took a carriage ride through the woods and past the stableyards,where peacocks screamed at us and a pig lounged in the mud. It was fantastic!!

Back at the beach, the girls wanted to shop for some presents for some
friends who had birthdays. On a whim, I picked up a "surf necklace" for
Russ, which was a cheesy shark's tooth on a leather strap. He turned up his
nose and said, "Ummm, who am I, David Lee Roth? A shark tooth nestled in my
chest HAIR?" Ahhh, he's funny!!

More sun, more pina coladas on the sand (whiskey for Russ), and then
Thursday we JET SKIIED! It was a blast!!! I couldn¹t even see. My eyes
were so sprayed with water I just kept them closed and clung to Russ, not
knowing what ass-battering wave was coming, which was even more
exhilarating!! I was screaming like a freak. He was putzing along and I
yelled, "C'mon, is that all you got, ya puss?" and he promptly floored it
over the waves as I screamed and when he finally slowed down he goes,
"Calling me a puss?"

Friday we had our goodbye meal at AW Shuck¹s back downtown across from the Market and the girls took their goodbye swim with their "summer loves"...an 8 year old boy who had a thing for the twins and his 12-year-old brother, whose eyes bugged out at Jordan in her bikini. Russ and I watched them from the balcony and I said, "When did we become on THIS side of the pool?" It's so weird, how some things never change in the circle of life. Like, as they flirted with their new, brief friends, their parents were just background noise...the last thing from their mind. I remember that so vividly, the living in the moment as a kid, not aware of anything else.

Then we went to the Morris Lighthouse, on the secluded end of the island, and it was all wild and green and overgrown and it was like being on a deserted island. Gorgeous!!! I couldn't stop staring, wanting to imprint on my brain. The lighthouse was out in the water, the sand dunes rose up, the waves rolled in in silence, no buildings to be seen...I could imagine the way it was when the first ships sailed past.

So, we left at 3:30 am on Saturday, back home at 2 in the afternoon, greeted by a child-deprived Yeti-dog. Willy, the one-woman-cat, mauled me all
night, happy to be reunited. Russ growled his typical, sarcastic comments like, "Ummm, does he need a condom?"

All in all, a fantastic Vacation 2006.

Yesterday was Jordy's birthday; she had 8 friends sleep over, and they had quite the time. God was smiling upon me previous 3 nights, so sleep caught up with me and I conked out like a dead person...I didn't hear a thing!!! I just shut my door, turned the fan on and slept. Actually, maybe God smiled down on the kids...apparently, they overflowed the toilet. I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if I'd been awake....

Well, time to get writing! (I mean, 'real' writing.) Gotta bring home the
bacon!!! Peace, my peeps.

call me, my line, call me, call me any, anytime......

Raymond Chandler's private eye creation, Philip Marlowe said it best: "I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun."

OK, maybe a coat, and maybe a cute little funky hat, but I don't have a gun in my house... which is a good thing due to the trauma I have endured lately.

Here’s a tip for you-who-may-be-reading-this: Do not sign up with Vonage. Even though their happy little jingle... Woo-hoo, woo-hoo-hoo.....is quite catchy and sucks you in, do not be tempted. I spent 15 HOURS last week on the phone with them... An average of 2 hrs a day. I talked to Amir, Mohammed, Shamir, and finally... Greg. Thank God. He talked me through it like a bomb detonator: “See that wire? Put it in the Vonage adapter. YOU CAN DO THIS. YOU CAN DO THIS.”
Me- “NO! I can’t!” (sob, with dirt and spiderwebs in my hair from crawling on the basement floor.)
“Yes, you can. FOCUS! FOCUS! Remove the cable from the phone jack and place it in the back of the Vonage adapter!”
“I DID! No dial tone!”
“OK, place the cable into the base of your cordless phone...”
“NO! If I unhook it we won’t be talking anymore!”
“Trust me...trust me. YOU CAN DO THIS!”
-click— and Greg is still there, Praise Jesus! “Told you! You have to trust me!” He says, now into the 82nd minute of our conversation.
“Now....I want you to hang up and I’ll call you right back.” He says.
“Noooooo!!!” I whimper.
“Trust me. I WILL CALL YOU BACK!” He says with fervent loyalty and conviction, like the dude in Last of the Mohicans declaring, “I will find you!”
With a trembling hand, I hang up.
RING! RING! I leap on it. “Hello?”
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Greg says cheerfully.
I almost want to bear Greg a child, right on my basement floor. (I don’t know if he wants one, but that is the depth of my gratitude.) I skip, sing and jump. I tell him goodbye and I love him, then go upstairs. I pick up the wall phone on my kitchen. DEAD AIR. No dial tone.
My ecstasy wanes a bit as I realize that even though my cordless phone works, that unfortunately the damn thing is tethered to my computer in the basement, and I don’t want that! How inconvenient! Plus, none of my wall phones work.
I call Vonage back.
“Hello, this is Kabul, I may help you?”
“I want to talk to Greg.”
“There many of us are here, assisting you is our pleasure, I for know no Greg, there are seven million of us here who work.”
“GOD DAMN. Why don’t my wall phones work? Only my cordless?”
“For phones for to work, you must go outside to gray junction box on your ‘ome and to pull out the three cables.”
“Huh?”
“Please to make sure there is no electricity for you to be shocked and meet your death.”
“HUH? How do I do that?”
“You can hire an electrician.”
“I am not hiring an electrician!” I sputter.
2 DAYS LATER:
“Hello, thank you for calling Vonage, this is Kushka, may I be of assistance?”
“Yes. My wall phones don’t work.”
“For phones to work, you must go outside to gray junction box on your ‘ome and pull out the t’ree cables.”
“I DID THAT. Still no dial tone, only on my cordless.”
“Hmmm. Plug the back of the cord into the base of your phone...”
“I DID THAT TOO.”
“Hmmmm. You for have many many notes here on your account.”
“I want to cancel!”
“You must call another number!”
TWO HOURS LATER:
“Thank you for calling Account Services, this is Rigestan, may I for be to help?”
“I was given this number to cancel.”
“Why for you be to cancel Vonage?”
“Don’t make me get into it. This is my thirteenth phone call. I just want to cancel. I want to go back to AT & T.”
“You must call AT & T, and they must be to instructing us to give your number back to you.”
ONE DAY LATER:
“Thanks for calling AT & T, this is Lisa, can I help you?”
“GET ME AWAY FROM VONAGE! What do I do?”
ONE HOUR LATER:
“OK, Stephanie, you’re all set, we have your number scheduled to be back soon, and the number is 555...7543...”
“Great! Thanks! Wait! What? It’s not 7543. It’s 7354.”
“It is?”
“YES! It is! I know my own phone number.”
“Sorry. We must have transposed something.... Please hold...”
PATHETIC I tell you!!! NOW I find out that Vonage may not release my number for 2 more weeks, conveniently putting me over the 30 day guarantee timeframe... What a headache this has been!!!
ARRRGGGHHHH.
I just got back from driving Mom & Dad to the airport; they’re going to visit Vinny and Tam. I should have stowed away in their luggage. Take me away and plop me down on a beach!!!
OH- last Saturday we did an acoustic set,-- other than the angry bar wench and no crowd, we rocked!! CDU Unplugged! What a shame, what a shame.....

Long time no blog!!

Aaahh Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day….

Forgive the Earth Wind & Fire kick. I am quite the spelunker of funk as I mine for information. It is scary how you can find abso-bloody-lutely anything on the Internet. Yet, quite helpful. I was a smart whippersnapper in school, but my god, I would have been a 4.2 GPA if I had access to the web back in the day. Going to the library! Pulling out the… gasp….card catalog!!! Checking books out then reading them, putting paragraphs together on index cards, putting them all together on a typewritten rough draft!!! Then typing it all again! WITH ANNOTATED FOOTNOTES! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

OK, anyway, it’s December, not September… (and now that song will be in your head for a day, don’t deny it), and I am older, as my 36th birthday has come and gone. it’s all downhill from here. WHY! WHY must I be such a vain girl?? It’s more than vanity, it’s my identity…. Youth, that is. Who wants to feel it draining away? Nobody. Admit it.

Well, I chopped my hair off. It’s sassy. It’s the Mia Farrow cut. It’s always worked for me before, but now I miss my long curly locks even though I was beginning to look like Dee Snyder with the ringlets. So, back to the old me. The day I found out I got my new awesome gig, I went out and got it all cut off. (Four days later I got a new car.) I always do things on a grandiose scale. Next, I’ll let it grow in dark again. I am so PSYCHED to begin this next chapter of my life!!!

Enough of my goddamn hair… (but I am thrilled about the job). Today my girlies and I went ice skating downtown at Skate on State, right by the capitol building. I’d forgotten that I am a passable ice skater! I was gliding around like Nancy Kerrigan...no, as Russ said, I am more of Tonya Harding type of gal. We had so much fun; the sun glinted off all the tall buildings and the twinnies zoomed around like little water bugs, with huge grins on their faces and pink cheeks. I couldn’t HANDLE THE CUTENESS! Jordan was totally sulky because I ripped her away from her friends but I bellowed, “YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FAMILY!” Anyway, she snapped out of it. She was pissed because she didn’t have a coat, as usual (kids do not wear coats anymore!!) so I shared mine with her and when I skated she sat down by a space heater on the sidewalk!

Well, the kids got A HAUL for Christmas… as I looked under the tree it was almost embarrassing. Russ is totally into the Gameboy, of course…he snagged it from the girls already. I ordered a few new games off Ebay during my 4am fit of insomnia two nights ago.

Oh—their Nutcracker performance was FAN-TASTIC! Absolutely beautiful, I sobbed like a bullied schoolgirl at their sweetness and light. The show was accompanied by the Cols. Youth Symphony Orchestra…a nice touch. All season we have been playing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies.

For my b-day eve, Russ and I went out to a fancy-schmancy place for cocks and apps. I downed about 4 Key Lime martinis. Sooooo good!

Mom, Dad and Beth came down for Christmas Eve and we had a spread at Chez Russ and Igor. We cooked turkey, ham, potatoes, etc etc and then we sat up reminiscing and cracking up til 1am. My gift to them was a “memory jar”… long story but, it served its purpose. I mean, we laughed so much my head hurt. Here are some highlights: 1.) Flashing Dad my first training bra in 5th grade cuz I was too embarrassed to tell him but I was just bursting to share, 2.) Mom always marching (or storming, pick which you like) off to take someone to task like that kid who peed off the jungle gym in front of me, or the kid who bit me on the ass; (first grade brought out the perverts, I guess)… 3.) Dad wanting to know if his school had a snow day so he disguised his voice sounding somewhat like Squiggy and said “Ya gonna close?”… Pause… “All right.” 4.) All the “boating incidents” with poor Vince bearing the brunt of it; 5.) Mom getting an afro and driving us around lost in Atlanta on the way to Florida with Grandma... etc etc… there were just so many!

Well, it's a gettin late, have you seen my mates? gonna get my little twerps to bed. Ciao!