Party Time

Saturday was my birthday party. I invited my family and closest, longest-known friends (and their families) to have dinner with me at the Center Street Grill. We had a room to ourselves and a separate table for the kids, and of the 25 who'd RSVPed, I only had one adult and one kid who had to cancel at the last minute (due to illness, so I'm grateful that she kept it home). Which meant that the room looked like this:

And the kids' table looked like this:

It was a great party. I'd brought little activity bags for the kids with pencils and crayons and notepads and notebooks and play jewelry to keep them occupied, and it worked surprisingly well -- we only had to turn around to tell the kids to get back in their seats about once every five minutes instead of the usual ninety seconds.

The adults had a great time eating and talking and eating some more; I thought there would be more drinking, but I never even got around to ordering anything other than iced tea. As dinner was winding up, there were some fireworks outside that completely wowed the kids -- apparently, they thought it was, in fact, part of the party, and they all ran to the window to look. (I have no idea what they were really for -- the general consensus was that it was probably a Veteran's Day thing.)

When I stood up to do a general introduction around the table and thank everyone for coming, I found myself completely overwhelmed with gratitude that I could count so many wonderful and interesting people among my friends. I did the introductions, and then got about as far as, "Thank you all for coming. I'm really happy you could all make it, and I'm just... Just..." And then my mom chimed in with "...Forty!" and we all cracked up with laughter.

And one benefit of having guests at your party who've known you for more than twenty years is that they bring perfect gifts. I'm just sayin'. A "writer's kit" (gorgeous feathered quill, chocolate, and wine). A gorgeous new coffee mug and a Barnes and Noble gift card nestled in a reusable little book-shaped box. A board game that appears to be the evil twin of the bastard child of Candyland and D&D. And that's just a few! Plus, most of the card were hysterically funny. Do these people know what I like, or what?

The only downer was poor Henry's stomach rebelling at the combination of corn dog and chocolate milk and Sprite and ice cream, and reversing engines, so the entire Hegemony set had to pack up and head out pretty much immediately after dessert, while the rest of us stuck around for another hour, just chatting.

At one point, I saw the waitress bring in the bill folder, and I started to reach for it... but she went around to the far side of the table and handed it to my dad. "Hey," I said, "that comes to me!"

My dad took his already-run credit card out of the folder and said, "Yes, that's what they told me." And that on top of the gift they'd given me -- that I hadn't been expecting, because they'd bought me some very nice jewelry while we were in Cancun as my early birthday present!!!

And to top it all off, despite Henry's mishap, the Hegemony took Alex home with them, and when we were all done at Center Street, Matt and I took Penny over to their place as well -- they kept both our kids (along with all four of theirs!) overnight, so that Matt and I could have a child-free date night.

We'd talked about catching Cabaret at William and Mary, but the party didn't break up until after the show had started, so we just went over to the Barnes and Noble and wandered around, relishing the ability to peruse at our own pace and not having to take turns remaining confined to the children's area to keep an eye on the kids. I bought some stuff with the B&N gift card I'd just received, and we also picked up some Christmas gifts for the kids. Then we went home and watched one of our Netflix (Casanova, which I was expecting to be a sexy drama, or perhaps a dramedy, but it turned out to be completely campy and stupid, alas). But we got to sleep in a bit the next morning, and we went out to breakfast and got to bask in a meal where we didn't have to tell anyone to be quiet and sit down, argue with Penny about volume or carbiness of her selections, or cut up Alex's food for him. Ah, bliss.

It had been Alex's first sleepover anywhere, and he had a fantastic time. He was all set to do it again Sunday night -- alas, we had to shoot that down, as it was a school night. But Braz and Adin promised that both our kids had been well-behaved and wonderful (they'd only had to tell Alex and Henry to shut up and go to sleep two or three times!), so it looks like another sleepover could well happen in the future! Whoo-hoo! (And now, if we can just get Ripley comfortable with the notion of sleeping over at our place, we could trade sleepovers with them and get more frequent kid-free nights!)

So all in all: doubleplus good, awesome, amazing, fantastic weekend. As KT and Kevin told me: Obviously, I need to have 40th birthday parties more often!

The Danger of Window Gels

It's a thing I do: whenever there are those gel window clings available in the $1 bin at Target, I pick out one or two and bring them home.

This started about a year ago, when I got some to decorate for Penny's Valentine's Day party, and not only did Alex enjoy them, he was enthralled by them. And not just him, but Penny as well. So when those little gel hearts were completely worn out and nasty, I replaced them with something else. And then something else. Et cetera. The kids like to play with them, and they're cheap, and when they start to look nasty or out of season, there's always something else in the $1 bin at Target.

So I'm working from home today (as evidenced by my lack of a post this morning) and in between work tasks, trying to clear out the living room as much as possible, because tomorrow morning the carpet cleaning service I hired is going to show up and -- please oh merciful gods -- Do Something About This Carpet.

I've schlepped a dozen or so boxes of stuff into other rooms, and when I moved a box from the living room into the play room, I paused, and opened the window shades there for some light. And I noticed the leftover Christmas clings still on the window. Which is not to say I hadn't noticed them before -- they're right in front of me every time I pull the car up to the house -- but today, I decided, it was time to get rid of them. (Past time, in fact, as I'd completely forgotten to put up the pretty new clings I'd bought on the Valentine's Day theme. Oops. And now we shall be gel-less until I get a chance to go to Target and find some spring flowers or St. Patrick's Day clovers.)

I peeled the clings off the windows and dumped them in the trash. Ah, the room looked better already.

Well, no, actually... it didn't. The clings had been there so long they'd left a sort of nasty residue/film on the glass. Well, I could take care of that! I grabbed a big wad of paper towels and my bottle of Formula 409.

Let me hasten to add here: I do not clean windows. I don't. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've cleaned the windows since we moved into this house twelve years ago. The light comes in, I can see what's going on outside, and grubby little fingers are going to mess them up anyway, so... I just don't bother. But for some reason, that residue from the gel clings was bothering me, and that's why I keep 409 in the closet. Just in case.

So I cleaned the windows. Had to actually put some elbow grease into getting the gel residue off, but not so much I had to go in search of my scrapey thing.

There. Now the windows are looking great! ...Well. No. Not really. Because the glass is clean, but all around the edges, they are completely nasty. But hey, that's only another spritz or two of 409 and another few swipes with my paper towels! And hey! Gorgeous windows!

But only on the inside. The outside of the glass is actually pretty nasty, especially in the living room (because those windows have 12 years of accumulated muck on their exteriors, whereas the play room windows only have 4 years of accumulated muck). But even though I think I've only ever done it once before, I know how to clean the exterior of these windows: You open them halfway, and then there are these little tabs that you pull, and the window tilts open! You don't have to take the screens out or go outside! (Granted, this only cleans the bottom halves of the windows. But I am not feeling energetic enough to get a stepstool and go outside to clean windows, so this is all we're getting! I'm cleaning the outsides of the bottom halves, and that's IT, I'm DONE.

Only, possibly on account of their only having been used once in 12 years, the little tabs that you pull so the window tilts open? Slightly stuck.

My hand slipped on one of them, and banged slam into the little lever that you use to lock the windows. Took some skin off the side of my hand. It bled sluggishly for a few minutes, and then subsided, but it hurts like a... a thing that hurts a lot. And it's exactly on the spot where the heel of my hand rests against the edge of the computer when I'm using the trackpad.

I told Twitter it was a window-cleaning injury, but then Matt messaged me immediately, worried I'd cut some glass and was even now bleeding to death on the sofa, tapping away on Twitter rather than going to the emergency room for stitches. So rather than worry you like that, I figured I'd trace this one back to its true root cause: those dang window gels.

I'm telling you guys to watch out. Those window gels are dangerous.

Shorties

Matt and the kids brought me flowers last night. No particular reason; they (well, Matt, really) just decided that it would be nice to do.

Penny picked them out -- a dozen white roses -- and the florist wrapped them in two six-stem bundles so each of the kids could bring me one. They're beautiful.

And so are the flowers.

***

After I'd put the roses in a vase, Penny scavenged the ribbons they'd been wrapped with. From the white one, she made me a "crown" -- a headband, basically, that she decorated with some crystal-looking, rainbow-colored, flower-shaped stickers. Wearing it made me look like a flower child reject from the 60s.

***

Not sure if there'll be a post tomorrow; Penny has the day off from school for a teacher workday, and she'll be with me in the morning, when I usually write these. We'll see, but I make no promises.

***

My dad isn't much for actual correspondence, but he likes to send me funny emails. The two he sent me last night were actually funny enough to make me giggle out loud, so I'm sharing one of them:

I recently picked a new primary care doctor. After two visits and exhaustive lab tests, he said I was doing 'fairly well' for my age. (I just turned sixty-something.)

A little concerned about that comment, I couldn't resist asking him, "Do you think I'll live to be 80?"

He asked, "Do you smoke tobacco, or drink beer, wine or hard liquor?"

"Oh no," I replied. "I'm not doing drugs, either!"

Then he asked, "Do you eat rib-eye steaks and barbecued ribs?"

I said, "Not much... my former doctor said that all red meat is very unhealthy!"

"Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like playing golf, boating, sailing, hiking, or bicycling?"

"No, I don't," I said.

He asked, "Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have lots of sex?"

"No," I said.

He looked at me and said, "Then, why do you even give a shit?"

Back To It

Saturday didn't go so well.

I wanted to go to the Fall Festival at Newport News Park. Penny was enthusiastic, and Alex is always happy to get out of the house, so it seemed like a good idea. I even thought to pack lunches, so we wouldn't have to guess at carbs for Penny or points for me.

Walking up to the festival, though, routed us straight through a playground. Alex saw the swings, and from that point forward, all he wanted was to go back to them. Have I mentioned that he's starting in on Two-ish behavior? Yeah. There was a lot of sobbing and crying and whining until Matt gave up and took him to a playground to swing.

And Penny wasn't too keen on the crafts that I wanted to look at, and she didn't want to stay in the kids' area while I wandered around to look at stuff. She had fun in the kids' area, at least -- did some crafts and got some free takeaways. But I'd been hoping to wander more. I've found some really cute things, in previous years. But by the time Penny was done with the kids' area, Alex was in a near-continuous state of meltdown, and we decided to just give up and head home.

Alex fell asleep in the car about halfway home, unsurprisingly. And then, having had a ten-minute nap in the car, he completely refused to take any more nap once we got home. Matt took him along to the comic store in the afternoon, and he fell asleep again, but once again refused to nap at home.

You know what kind of mood you get out of a toddler who's had two ten-minute naps? A Very Bad Mood, that's what. The rest of the evening was horrible. We gave up on the notion of going out to eat for dinner and got takeout instead. And then the takeout place forgot my soup, and the thing I'd ordered was not remotely appetizing. (I don't even know why I ordered it. I can't blame that part on the restaurant. Seriously - I don't like spicy food, I don't like peppers, I don't like mushrooms, and I'm not the biggest fan of spinach salads. So why would I order a chili-lime chicken spinach salad with peppers and mushrooms? Major brainfail.)

The only unalloyed good thing about Saturday was that Penny pestered me to keep my promise that we could decorate for Hallowe'en. I started out feeling like it was yet another chore, but her enthusiasm was contagious. We hung streamers and various doodads all over the house, and by the time it was done, I wanted more.


Sunday was some better, though Alex continued to demonstrate his near-Twoness for us. But I took a trip to Target to pick up a couple of things and wound up buying more Hallowe'en decorations while I was at it.

And a costume, too, which was a triumph in itself -- I haven't been able to buy an off-the-shelf costume since I was still trick-or-treating. (There were the no-money years, and then there were the fat years.) I was so excited to be able to buy a costume that I wanted to buy about four of them. It took me a long time to decide. I thought about a fairy costume so Penny and I could match, but the adult fairy costumes are -ahem- short, and proud as I am of my lost weight, the skin on my legs is still kind of... saggy and baggy and not really what I want to be showing off. Same problem with the pirate wench costume. The tavern wench costume had a long skirt, but didn't really appeal. The snow queen costume was gorgeous, but looked hot. The Cleopatra costume was pretty, too, but I didn't think Penny would get the reference, and since she's about 85% of the reason I'm getting a costume in the first place... no go. I finally settled on a Gothic robe and told Penny I was going to be a witch, only without the pointy hat. She was very impressed by the spiderweb detailing.

It seems slightly ridiculous to buy a Hallowe'en costume just to have something to wear while I stay at home and hand out candy -- there isn't even a chance of wearing it to a party or to work, since Hallowe'en is on a Saturday this year. But I'm okay with being slightly ridiculous, if it'll keep this odd sense of enthusiasm going.

Who knows? Maybe I'll even be inspired to decorate for Christmas, this year.

Addendum

I got so caught up in ranting about the proposal that I forgot to talk about the whole reason I was writing about it at all:

However dark the cloud, there's always at least a glimpse of silver. In this case, I have so far encountered two little sparkling stars that make me smile every time I see them:

1) My main point of contact with the other company we're working with on this proposal is Mr. Moneypenny. I swear I'm not making that up, that's his honest-to-god name. (I usually avoid using the full/real names of people I encounter at work, but this one is too good to pass up. And not likely to score very high in a google search, heh.) I've so far avoided making any Bond references in my communications with him -- he's probably pretty sick of it, I'd imagine. But the temptation to do so anyway is really quite incredible.

2) While compiling a list of various contracting officers for assorted contracts -- most of whom are located in the DC metropolitan area -- I discovered there is a town in Maryland actually called Suitland. Suit-land! Ah-hahahahaha! How very appropriate! How the hell did that slip through?

Color Me...

So Elizabeth posted her results of this color quiz, and I'm a sucker for online quizzes -- mostly because they're funny. So I followed the link and read Elizabeth's results, and found something rather more in-depth than most quizzes get to. And also, a pretty dead-on peg of Elizabeth's personality, from what I could tell.

So out of curiosity, I took the quiz myself.

Liz took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Over-imaginative and given to fantasy or day-dream..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Eerily accurate.

Cool.

An Observation

It's been a long time -- at least a decade -- since I've been close to major relationship drama.

Without attempting to explain or pass judgment on any of the parties involved, I just want to make this observation: The internet age has really had a negative effect on the whole process.

I mean... "She stopped following my Twitter account," just doesn't pack the pathos of "She burned all my letters."

Funny Little World

I called the ENT yesterday to make an appointment about getting my ear unstuffed. The earliest appointment I could get? Three weeks from now. Whaddafu?

So if you were, like, an ENT looking for a place to settle down and establish a thriving practice, Williamsburg just might be the place for you. Apparently, we have a shortage.

---

Fourth of July tomorrow, so no post. We'll be going down to my parents' for BLTs. Which reminds me, I need to call and find out what I should be bringing.

I'm looking forward to it immensely. BLTs are one of the few reasons to tolerate summer, as far as I'm concerned, and my family gets very serious about these sandwiches. We only do it once a year, but when the time comes, we do it right. Mom buys tomatoes big enough so that one slice will cover (and I do mean cover) the bread, and she cuts slices thick enough to shame steaks. Dad fries up nearly a pound of bacon per person, and they toast up most of two loaves of bread. A head or two of lettuce and a couple of bottles of Durkee's complete the ensemble. (I think I was in college before I learned that most people just put mayo or mustard on their BLTs.)

To make it the quintessential summer meal, we'd have a dozen or so cobs of sweet corn, and a big ol' watermelon for dessert. My mouth is watering, just thinking about it.

We may eat more on BLT day than we do at Thanksgiving, to be perfectly honest. But let's face it: turkey and mashed potatoes taste the same year-round. Tomatoes and corn are indisputably and indescribably better in the summer.

---

Yesterday, I came downstairs in the morning to find that Penny had -- for reasons unknown -- wrapped a satin and rhinestone toy dog collar around her Batman action figure and left him on my purse.



I don't know what she was thinking when she did it. What I thought was, Huhn. Well, it's not all that surprising that Bruce would be a little kinky. Or that he'd be the Sub.

Cravings

Okay, this is an advertisement for a car, but it's still weirdly fun. I've gone four times and haven't stumped it yet.

Crave Reader

Marital

Bear with me, here.

So several weeks ago, I saw this post in my RSS feed and fell over laughing and I hit the Share button and added the comment, "I'd love to find the whole thing!" (I use Google Reader, and you should, too. Sharing and being able to tack on notes is awesome. Okay, you need a google/gmail account first, but doesn't everyone already have one, if only for junk mail?)

And then tonight, my RSS feed offered up this post, which when I curiously clicked on the button, led here.

Just as I thought: Hilarious beyond measure.