Thursday, December 4, 2014

Justified

I really like chunky peanut butter.  I eat it every single day.  I also do all the grocery shopping.

One day, Mitch asked me to please buy some creamy peanut butter.  I scoffed.  Yeah, right.  Why in the HELL would anyone want that?  What's the point?  I didn't buy it.  He asked again.  I scoffed again.  I bought an industrial amount of chunky.  Then, a few months later it was time to buy more peanut butter.  Mitch, again, asked very nicely if I would please buy creamy peanut butter along with the chunky.  I said, "WHY do you want that?  Chunky is WAY better!"  He explained that he likes a small amount on his toast and he gets more than he wants with chunky.  Would I please just get some creamy?  So, being the dream wife I am, I got him some creamy.

Later that same night, Mitch came downstairs to watch TV with me and he had made himself a little snack: peanut butter toast with creamy peanut butter....  and he PUT NUTS ON TOP OF IT.

I looked at his toast.  He looked at me.  I looked at him, and I said, "I am going to kill you."




(I couldn't even find a stock internet photo of toast with creamy peanut butter with nuts sprinkled on it, BECAUSE NOBODY IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DOES THAT!)

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Me and Amazon: Our First Fight

Christmas shopping begins!  (Ugh.)  I started by asking Amazon for exactly what I wanted by simply typing it in the search bar:



Ha. Ha. Amazon.  You're so funny.  





Yeah, that's right, Amazon, even though we've known each other for YEARS and YEARS, you apparently don't know me.  I do NOT NEED THERAPY.  Not even Street Therapy.  Thanks anyway, you snot.  









No, I didn't say you are NOT Lazy, Stupid or Crazy.  I said you ARE stupid.  Sooooooo stupid.  And Amazon, the Christmas shopping season is not the time to tell me that God thinks I'm stupid.  You're a real asshole.  







No, Stupid, you have to eat.  


Wait, no you don't.  




Geez!  Take it easy!  Cyberbully!



You win.  




(P.S.  I think it's kind of hilarious that it costs exactly $0.00 to read a book about why God thinks you're stupid.)

(That's IF you have KindleUnlimited, and if you do, God probably does think you're stupid.)




Thursday, November 13, 2014

I'm always right.


This morning I opened up my computer and the above Google Doodle popped up.  I didn't know what it meant and just assumed from the stars and space-like background, along with the horse trailer on prongs that someone was, for some reason, sending a horse trailer into space.  

Mitch got up and I showed it to him and said, "Hey look, someone is sending this horse trailer to space for some reason." 

Then he told me all about how it is the Philae Lander that was going to land on a comet.  He told me that it has harpoons on it to hook it to the comet in case it slipped when it landed because comets are made of ice. 

Then came the argument:

Me:  Space ice isn't slippery.  They don't need harpoons.

Mitch:  I'm just telling you what I read about it.  

Me:  Well, come on, space is really really cold.  Ice isn't slippery unless it is warm enough to melt.  It's only slippery when it melts.  

Mitch:  But it's a comet.  It's moving.  And the lander is moving.  It could slip.  

Me:  Maybe, but I'm just saying space ice isn't slippery.  They don't need harpoons.

Mitch: ........ two minutes ago you thought it was a horse trailer.  Why are we arguing about this???

Me:  Horse trailer or not, it's not going to slip.  


It landed today.  It's on the comet right now.  And you know what?  It didn't slip.  

BOOYAH!!!!!



Sunday, November 9, 2014

Scenes From a Marriage

Me:  Mitch!  Where is my rainbow striped infinity scarf?  I can't find it anywhere and I KNOW I had it recently!  Did you put it somewhere???

Mitch:  Well, I know there is a scarf in the laundry room right now, but I don't think it is the one you are looking for.  It is white and it is finite.


Monday, November 3, 2014

Monday, October 20, 2014

Mommy's Precious Angel Baby Boy (Sorry, Sam)



Sam is in his senior year of high school.  Can you believe it?  I can't.  He had his senior pictures taken over the summer.

I remember when he started middle school.  The summer before he started sixth grade at his new school Kira, Sam and I drove over to the school to for a tour.  There was a big sign over the front door that said, "Home of the Hawks!"

Kira looked at it and said, "Hey Sam, when you go here you'll be a hog."

Sam said smugly, "Kira!  That sign says HAWKS, not HOGS!"

Kira said, "...I know what it says."

It was a pretty good burn for a second grader.

The first day of ninth grade I drove Sam to school.  He was a little nervous about starting high school.  We were listening to the radio and a new song came on that I liked so I turned it up to try to lighten the mood.  It was a good song:  happy, lots of whistling.  I didn't understand the lyrics because I'm old, but I thought it was saying something about a bucket.  Sam looked at me like I was weird.  Later I figured out why.  The song I was blasting for my baby on the first day of high school was "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People.  It's all about a kid shooting other kids in a school shooting type scenario.  The lyrics weren't saying, "[something something] my bucket!"  They were saying, "run better run, faster than my bullet"  HAVE A GREAT FIRST DAY OF HIGH SCHOOL, HONEY!!!

Pretty soon my baby will be graduating from high school and will be a college boy.  He has big dreams of getting his own place and making tons of money and being an independent man.  I have big dreams of him staying at home and going to the community college a few blocks from my work and carpooling together every single day.

I think some compromises might have to be made.   

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Bear Bait

Hey, guess who never blogs anymore?  Me!  Except for today.  Today I'm blogging.  Here's a funny story for you.  One of Mitch's friends is going to be bear hunting this fall.  Bear hunters leave bait out for the bears for a while before hunting season starts to lure the bears to a certain spot so when the time comes for the hunting to start, it's super easy to go to the local bears' new favorite restaurant and shoot them which I would fully support if panda bears lived around here. Of course, stupid pandas won't eat anything but stupid bamboo so baiting would be pretty boring and easy.  Just like panda bears.  Anyway, Minnesota black bears like to eat what people like to eat so bear bait is pretty good stuff. Pastry and bacon and stuff.

Mitch's friend Frank is going to bear hunting this fall and he's leaving strawberry preserves and granola. Pretty high quality bait!   Way to go, Frank!  Mitch thinks it sounds delicious too so he keeps bugging Frank about where the bait is being left.  Frank won't tell him because he doesn't want Mitch going there and eating it.  Ridiculous, right?  Right.

We were talking about this while eating dinner tonite, and Kira said, "Our neighbor baits bears.  He leaves bacon and donuts."  We were quiet, all of us thinking the same question but not daring to actually say the words.  I think she sensed it, but didn't say anything in her defense because she couldn't deny the question that was on all of our minds, and now, because of her silence, we all know she is out in the woods eating bear bait bacon.

So Frank, where DO you leave your bait???


What would make this delicious breakfast better?  Bear bait, of course!

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Drama

I hate drama and conflict.  I hate when people do things just for the sole purpose of making someone else feel bad so I'm not even going to go into great detail about the drama I have experienced this summer other than to tell you that it has happened at the rowing club between the "elite" set and the amateurs.  What I love about this whole topic is the way that some of the ladies on my team have handled. it.  I love my ladies. Today I'm going to tell you about Leigh.

When a team of my ladies were docking a quad one day, they bumped the dock.  Rowing shells are very delicate so it's never a good idea to run into anything.  Duh.  Everyone knows that, but docking is hard.  The ladies didn't do any damage to the shell, and certainly didn't want to dock the boat badly, but a woman from the more elite group saw it happen and barreled down to the dock and screamed her head off at my ladies. The coxswain in our team's boat, Leigh, is a retired police officer and triathlete.  She interrupted the screamer and told her not to talk to anyone of the ladies until they had gotten out of the boat.  (that's rowing protocol)  Once they got out of the boat Leigh calmly, quietly, and efficiently handled the screamer, reminding her that nobody WANTS to damage shells, mistakes happen, no damage was done, screaming doesn't solve anything, it just pisses people off, and finally she said, "You are not allowed to talk to me again," which is genius.

Another day we were carrying the 8 boat from the lake side and we set it down in slings to dry it off.  The same screamer came out and yelled about how we almost laid the boat down on the impeller (delicate plastic thingy on the bottom of the boat) and "everyone who knows anything knows not to do that."  Leigh handled it again saying, Thank you for your comments, and 1. We didn't lay it on the impeller.  2. If you thought we were going to lay it on the impeller, why didn't you speak up before we did it, and  3. I thought I told you you were not allowed to talk to me again.

I love that woman.

We have pretty accomplished women on our team.  Leigh was pretty high in the police ranks when she retired last year.  We also have a lawyer who is a retired FBI agent, a doctor, and several business owners.  I really can't believe the way that they (we) have been disrespected by a small contingent of other rowers and fellow club members.  I think the problem the other rowers have with our team is that for the most part, the women on our team are fearless.  A couple of our novice rowers (including Leigh) took out a double sweeper boat last week.  People were up in arms about it because usually it takes rowers three or four years to advance to that level.  It went fine.  They did very well.  It's not rocket science, it's moving a boat.

I think we need to start going to board meetings.  Well, the other ladies can.  I don't like conflict.  ;) 

Friday, August 8, 2014

Rowing Novice

Hello again.  Two days in a row.  What do you think of that?  Looks as if our dry spell is over.... or is it....

Today I'm going to catch you up on my athletic career.  As you know from my post in June, I joined the local rowing club.  Isn't that cool?  I think it's pretty cool.  Why?  Because a few years ago I would have never imagined me, a huge chicken, rowing a skinny, tippy boat in the middle of the Duluth Harbor, where people DIE every year.  But I do that now.  Regularly.

I joined a team of ladies who row that I met at the gym.  It's been lots of fun, but I have found there are two kinds of people at the rowing club:  A group who just wants to get out on the water and practice, workout, and have fun.  And a group who wants to keep the club exclusive to a very elite and superior group.  The team I am on is in the first group and we have a couple of coaches who are elite quality rowers. The ladies that row in the 8 oared boat are pretty tight.


This is us at the Duluth Regatta in June.  The lady in the blue hat isn't technically part of our team, but she's a good sport and sat in with us for our regatta.  She's what you would call an elite rower.  The rest of us are either novices or amateurs.  We are learning, and practicing, and having lots of fun.  

So my schedule almost every day this summer has been to get up at 4:30 in the morning, drive down to the lake, and then row in either a single, double, quad or the 8 boat.  It has been fantastic.  Sometimes I just have to stop and look around and say, wow, I can't believe I'm doing this.  

Sometimes we have to carry the boats across the point to the lakeside because of wind conditions.  When we do that the lake is usually like glass and the sun is just coming up.  It is gorgeous.  

We are not the best rowers in the world, but we aren't bad.  If we can keep the team together for at least a few years, I think we will be better and better.  We are going to participate in the Master's National Championships next week.  I will be in two races in the 8 boat.  I am really looking forward to it.  

There is something really special about being on a rowing team.  When you're in the boat you have to work together, in total unison, or the boat doesn't move as well as it could.  When we are in total unison, it's like magic.  It's smooth and fast and exciting.  You can feel in your feet and your butt when everyone is moving together perfectly.  It is really amazing.  When you're in a boat with other people there are no good rowers or bad rowers.  The team is only as good as the worst rower (usually me) and thankfully my team is supportive and very forgiving.  We are literally all in the same boat.  Rowing is a lot harder than it looks.  It's very technical and you have to think about it and work all the angles all the time.  We are always striving for the perfect stroke.  Mine are getting better, but they are still few and far between.  The ladies I have met and had the pleasure of spending time with this summer are amazing. They are kind, and brave in every sense of the word, and we have all become very close knit.  

Tomorrow:  Drama drama drama!!! (more rowing)

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Movie Review: D of the P of the A

I went to see Dawn of the Planet of the Apes the other day.  I don't really have much to say about it except:

1.  It wasn't as good as R of the P of the A.
2.  Ceasar, the main monkey character, was handsome and dignified.
3.  I got everything I ever wanted out of life when I saw a chimp on the back of a stampeding horse shooting two machine guns.  


I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me...

Hi.  I haven't posted anything on here since June.  That's so super lame.  I'm sorry.  I have lots of excuses, but they are only excuses.  Excuses are lame.

So what did you miss?

1.  Kira has been funny
2.  I've been a super athlete
3.  I've had a fun summer
4.  I'm excited for the new school year.
5.  Drama drama drama!

Today I'll I'm going to tell you about his Kira.  She is a funny girl.  She's 14 now and has requested that I not blog about her, but she's conflicted because she likes people to know about how funny she is, but she does't want me to talk about her to anyone because I'm her mother and THAT'S EMBARRASSING!

Mitch and I went out AT NIGHT last week without her.  We were going to be out late and Kira was going to be home alone.  Part of me thought she might be apprehensive about being home alone at night, but she assured us she was FINE and to just GO.  Around ten o'clock I got a text from her.  I thought, well, this is it, she wants us to come home.  Here's the text:


Yeah, that's right, she wanted me to know she had the shower of a blind amputee.  What a weirdo.  She was in bed when we got home, but let me tell you, I got a good look at her the next morning and she wasn't all that clean.  I told her I was impressed with her imagination, but not too impressed with the quality of the shower.  She said she thinks she must have shampooed with conditioner because, you know, eyes closed.  She's been working on it and is getting it down.  She said she can now recognize shampoo because of the lather.

The other night at the dinner table we were telling the kids how they are lucky because they have many advantages over their peers.  They wanted to know like what kind of advantages, and we said that they are lucky because their parents are financially secure and our family is intact.  Those two things alone makes a huge difference in a kid's life.  Kira said, "We are not an intact family.  Grandma's uncle got his leg cut off by a train.  Remember?" (duh!?)

Mitch's and Sam's and my jaws dropped.  What???  We had to explain to her what the term "intact family" meant.

I kind of love how her brain works.

But also, because she is 14, the worst age in the world, she is a smartass.  We went swimming at Lake Superior the other day because the waves were big.  That's always fun.  I was trying to balance having a fun and exciting swimming day with being a good parent so I said, "You remember what to do if you get caught in a rip tide, right?"  (the answer is to swim easy, parallel to the shore until you can get out of it.  She KNOWS this.)  She said, "Oh yeah, you swim STRAIGHT OUT!" and pointed into the endless, dangerous oblivion of the lake.  I got some more gray hairs that day.

Okay, that's enough for today.  More tomorrow on the topic of being a super athlete.  Here's a teaser:


I'm third from the back.  I look like a fly with a tiny yellow mustache.  

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Eager Volunteer

It's Summer Vacation!!!!!! I'm pretty happy about it. I joined the Duluth Rowing Club and have been out rowing with the master's rowing team a few times. I was signing my membership form the other day, and there is a line on it that says members are expected to contribute 10 hours of volunteer time to the club sometime throughout the year.


I read that out loud to Mitch and he said, “Well, you may as well just tear it up! They should know YOU are NOT going to do THAT!”


I know what you are saying. You are saying, “God, Sarah, why is he being such a bitch?” Let me explain his position and maybe you will understand.


When the kids were very small and were involved in the city hockey league, I got a call out of the blue from a woman I had never met. I wasn't that crazy about the kids being in organized hockey in the first place because in case you didn't know it, hockey parents in Minnesota tend to lose their minds about hockey. Most of the parents are decent people, but they can't make up for the wackos that constantly screech asinine things from bleachers during games like, “GET THE PUCK!” and “Put it IN THE NET!” (No shit.) Or worse yet, they clang cowbells. These people have shopped for, and remembered to bring COWBELLS to clang nonstop, indoors, amongst crowds of people. Who does that?


Anyway, back to the call from the woman I never met: She left a looooooong, obnoxious message on my voicemail that outlined the many hours I would be volunteering for that WEEK, and where and when I should show up. She didn't ask if I wanted to do it, she didn't even ask me to call her back to talk about volunteering, she just assumed I had nothing better to do than work at a concession stand and sell Ring Pops to kids with snot trails on their faces that they can't even feel because they are so cold, and then just stand there and watch while they eat them. That's torture, not volunteering.


For some reason that phone call flipped a switch of stubbornness in me that even after a decade, I can't switch off, and here's why: Volunteering is optional. It is something one does because they feel compelled to contribute their time to a cause that they feel is worthwhile. Calling someone and TELLING them when they will be volunteering, and assuming they will just do it goes against the very nature of volunteering. So I refused to do it. Did I feel guilty leaving all the burden for rink flooding, locker-room supervising, and concession stand-manning to Mitch? A little, but not enough to give in.


I know what you are thinking, “Hey Sarah, in all the years your kids have been involved in hockey, haven't any parents ever asked where you are and why you aren't volunteering?” Good question. Sure they have, but Mitch tells them, “She didn't pass the background check,” and they drop the subject.


And I'm okay with that.


Now you're saying, “But Sarah, you're a teacher. Of course you've passed a background check!” Well, the hockey parent's haven't put two and two together yet. Big shirts, little hats, apparently.



So now you are wondering if I am going to let the ten hours of “mandatory volunteering” keep me from joining the rowing club. No, I will do it. It's ten hours, not 8 million like the hockey league expects. And it probably won't involve watching kids with blue lips suck on disgusting Ring Pops.