Breakfast in bed.

If it’s your birthday and you live in my house, you get breakfast in bed. If it hits on a school day, you can choose the weekend before or after.

You place your order a few days ahead of time so we can be sure to have the right ingredients.

So today was Davis’ day. That’s his order. [click to enlarge] What made me smile was the specificity…

Heads in a duffel.

Remember the movie 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag? I bet you saw it Jenne’ & hub. I know you did. Don’t deny it. The rest of you? Not so sure.

Anyway, I’m thinking about that movie classic because the duffel bags I ordered for the boys to take to camp just arrived today! And they are some huge honking duffel bags.

Case in point….

Toys for troops.

Because I can’t say it better than Gnightgirl and, after all, this is her amazing project, read her words here. (If you’re a regular Gnightgirl reader, I apologize for the repetition!)

I have more Beanie Baby updates for you all. This really has been one exciting, albeit inadvertent, endeavor. I confess that I was a little nervous there, at the numbers of beanies that were being shipped over to my kiddo. I hadn’t heard, until a few days ago, that Brian and his buddies were able to handle the volume of your oh-so-generous contributions.

There have been a few days when I’ve felt like an absolute lunatic for shipping boxes and boxes of beanie babies over. I’ve found myself thinking, “What am I DOING? Those guys are over there, working, and fighting, and they’re dirty, and exhausted, and I’m sending stuffed toys? Those boys must think I’ve taken absolute leave of my senses; I am surely “The Crazy Mom.”

But now I know.

I know, now, that though we might not be stopping the insanity, we are putting a smile on more than a few faces. Children are laughing because of us. Soldiers are looking for your packages. They WANT your boxes and beanies on THEIR trucks. There ARE dusty, sweaty, exhausted boys over there, that are having a bit of fun and a laugh.

Because of you.

All the way over there, on the other side of the world. You are touching our American boys, and their Iraqi children and parents.

If world leaders can’t come to terms, at least we can, as mere citizens, shake one another’s hands, hand a few toys to their kids, and put smiles on their faces. If that’s not one step toward world peace, I don’t know what is.

It is what we can do.

And NOW, without further adieu, I present you the half-baked, incomplete, under-construction, I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing website:

toys-for-troops.com

Yes, it’s come to all that. It is TIME to raise the roof and GET THIS PARTY STARTED.

Please.

Blog this. Send the link to everyone you know, and ask them to send it to everyone THEY know.
I swear. I’ll fix you spaghetti, too, if you do.

I can tell you that I, for one, am hoping for some spaghetti. My fav. And I can also tell you that the outpouring of support here in Maryland has been amazing. We’ve mailed over 150 POUNDS of beanies (along with some wipes, kool-aid & batteries) to Brian just from our little community. And, I know there’s more coming.

Thanks for reading & thanks for your support!

Oh, what a relief it is!

My mom read my It’s Just Lunch post to 300 women at a luncheon earlier this week. It was well-received. She got lots of comments. And my mom was really proud of me.

I’m not telling you this to brag.

I’m telling you this because it’s a turning point for me.

I think maybe I have enough goodwill in stock now to ask for something.

Mom, I know that there are a couple things that I did (or didn’t do) in the past that pushed you past your breaking point. But now, we’re even. Right?

This should wipe out the question about the you-know-what outside my window. And it should wipe out that other thing that neither of us likes to talk about. Okay? That would be great. Okay?

What a relief.

Thirsty Thursday

From Chemistry World….

Italian researchers have provided another excuse for wine lovers to extol the virtues of their indulgence. A team at the University of Pavia have shown that both red and white wine can kill the bacteria that cause tooth decay.

Gabriella Gazzani and her colleagues selected home-grown Valpolicella and Pinot Nero (Pinot Noir) wines for their study, and tested their antibacterial brawn in a broth of oral streptococci. The wines were ‘dealcoholised’ prior to the test in order to exclude ethanol’s inhibitory effects on bacterial growth.

Wine contains organic acids with known antibacterial effects, including succinic, malic, lactic, tartaric, citric and acetic acids. But Gazzani told Chemistry World that hers was the first study to demonstrate wine’s ability to destroy the microbes that have ruined many a smile.

As well as inhibiting growth of the tooth-decay bacteria Streptococcus mutans, the researchers found that the wines inhibited growth of S. pyogenes, the bacteria that infect the upper respiratory tract and cause a condition called ‘strep throat’, which leaves sufferers with a sore throat and possible fever.

‘Our findings suggest that wine might help prevent caries [tooth decay] and upper respiratory tract infection,’ concluded Gazzani.

You and your little dog Toto too.

So the other day (I might have mentioned it), I had a pedicure. It was wonderful. Except for the ticklish part, it’s the best! I was relaxing, eyes half closed, when into my consciousness seeped the television. It was two evil witches scolding another witch for being too nice. Seems the nicer witch had a young child. (Now, I have to say, these women were not of child-bearing years. So am I to surmise that witches have babies at a much, and I mean much, older age?)

Anyway, the nice witch was named…are you sitting? Tabitha. Seriously. What creativity! And her daughter? Endora. I’m not lying. Though it might be the other way around. The kid might be Tabitha. But who cares really?

This soap opera has an entire thread about witches. Does anyone else think that is bizarre?

I had never heard of Passions before. Have you? It’s on network TV. Not that being on network means it’s any good, mind you. But seriously.

I used to watch General Hospital. Religiously. I remember Demi Moore as the reporter. The wedding of Laura and Luke. Stavros. Crisis after crisis. Affair after affair. I don’t know why I was drawn back in, day after day.

Recently, I saw GH on while I was at the gym or someplace. OMG. Monica. What the heck happened to Monica? She looked just awful – she clearly has had a lot of work done. Not in a good way, either. But I digress.

So GH was silly and out there and unrealistic in many ways. But this Passions takes it to another level.

Witches.

I’m going to have to ask my media buyer friend what kind of ratings that show gets. Because I can’t believe many people would waste their time on that when there is plenty of better (notice I didn’t say good) crap on air all the time. And besides, now that there’s a Food Network, who needs anything else?

Except possible TLC for What Not to Wear and Fox (so I can see House).

George.

I was cleaning out Reed’s drawers this evening (you would not believe some of the icky things I found) and when I opened the bottom drawer, this is what I saw.

George. Curious George.

Reed slept with him, ate with him, rode with him. Reed and George were tight.

When Reed started preschool, we thought George should stay home. And he did. He stayed on Reed’s bed eagerly awaiting his friend’s return. Reed would run to get the monkey the minute we’d walk in the house. And he’d carry him everywhere.

So why was I surprised at the preschool conference when Mora Tzippi asked me to tell her about Reed’s best friend?

We were new to town. Reed was a man of few words. Seriously, he barely spoke. So what friend did she mean?

Tzippi went on to tell me that Reed talked about his friend and all the things they do together. She told me in great detail. I must have looked very puzzled. And then she mentioned the friend’s name. George.

Well, maybe laughing out loud was not the most mature and maternal response. But it was hilarious! Reed, who didn’t talk except when extremely necessary, had his teacher convinced he had a friend named George who did all kinds of funny and fun things.

So when I told her that George was a stuffed monkey, she was not convinced. Seriously, she said, “No, I mean George. Reed’s friend.”

So tonight when I was cleaning out his drawers in preparation for packing him for 2 weeks of overnight camp, I was lulled into a memory of my quiet and adorable 2 year old who loved his stuffed monkey. And flash to him leaving home for 2 whole weeks.

Think I should pack George in Reed’s duffel?

If your office was like my office….

I know, it’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.

Have a little patience.

I love that song by Guns & Roses. Okay, I admitted it. Here’s another confession on that track, I think Axl Rose is hot.

But this post is not about heavy metal. And it’s not about the dream I had that one time where Axl…. oh wait, I’m off track.

This is about us. All of us.

We need to relax.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how we communicate with each other. When you get an email, you feel like an immediate response is needed, right? When your phone rings, you need to answer it.

I’m as guilty or guiltier than anyone.

When you get a letter, do you rip it open immediately? Do you grab a pen and paper and write back on the spot?

Me neither.

Sometimes, we need time to think. To respond.

Sometimes, we have better things to do.

Sometimes, we don’t want to be found. It’s so easy to track someone down. But should we? Is it really that important?

Back in the olden days, a letter would come on horseback. When it got there, it got there. Were people inpatient for communications? Maybe, but they had no choice but to wait.

Waiting is good. Wanting is good.

In our right-this-second world, I worry that we’re all becoming so impatient, so unwilling to wait.

We need a little patience.

ooh ooh patience….

Half of a century.

Our friend Mark was born a half century ago. Fortunately for us, he still can muster the energy to throw a great party. (Did I mention his wife was very young = around my age?)

Here is said lovely wife, Julie. Now might be a good time to discuss the camera problem. Yes, the camera phone. I don’t want to bore you with the saga of my phone (unless you really want to hear – then call me!) but I had finally gotten all the camera settings right when that last phone croaked and now this new one? As you can see, I have not perfected the settings on this one. I apologize for the fuzzy shots. But perhaps you could close your eyes about 1/8 of the way and pretend that you’ve had several beers. That might make them look just a wee bit better.

The eating begins. For those of you who don’t partake in the steamed crab thang – sorry. Some of the following photos are a little graphic.

Not this one. Just a crowd shot. Whew.

Mmmm. Dinner.

Okay, apologies to Fran but this made me laugh. The photo is so blurry (my fault, of course) but to me it looked like she was eating so fast that the picture blurred. Hee hee.

Here is what she really looks like. And she doesn’t eat all that fast at all. Really. And she didn’t pay me to say that.

Ahh, the birthday boy (at 50, we may need another term?) and his old friend, Scott.

More tasty crabs.

Pam and Kent. You’ve seen them before — at a wonderful dinner at Kinkead’s.

And whatever you say, it’s not Ellen’s fault.