The Unveiling of the LEGO Man

If you'll remember, last year I offered up many prayers for my Halloween Miracle and this year, we were poised to have a repeat of the same costume.  Josh, when asked a month or two ago, wanted to be an elephant, again. 

Which suit me fine.  Me, not being much of a holidays kinda gal.

But then he got interested in--no, obsessed with--legos.  And he wanted to be a LEGO-man.  I tried to convince him to be a LEGO.  You know, a block colored red with the nubby things. 

Simple.  So much so that even a monkey--or me--could put it together.

Alas, that was not his vision at all.  A LEGO man would be the only thing that would do.  So I scoured the internet for some ideas.  I found some awesome LEGO man outfits and set out to make one myself for Josh (really, how hard could it be?).  Of course, I waited until the week of Halloween to start said costume, but at least I was making an effort.

As a refresher course, this is a LEGO mini-fig:

And this is what I was sort of going for:

But I had a limited amount of supplies, given my proximity to anything other than a Walmart, as well as a four year old who had his own vision. 

Josh's vision was a LEGO mini-fig that he had brought from home to the store with us.  It was gray with blue pants and one blue arm and one red arm.  He also had gray hands.  True to Josh's form, we had to duplicate THIS LEGO mini fig and not, say, an easier one.  Though, in hindsight the gray hands did turn out to be a blessing.

So Tuesday, the day before Josh's Halloween party at Preschool, we set off on our adventure.  We spent 2 hours at the store looking for something--anything--that we could use as a head.  I finally came upon a 5 gallon water jug:

I sawed off the nozzle bit and stuffed the handle part with batting (for some reason, I had that, and it seemed like a good idea at the time).  I used yellow duct tape to tape everything down and give it that somewhat uniformal shape.

The original idea was to spray paint it yellow, but lo and behold spray paint doesn't stick very well to plastic.  Who knew?  So we went for option number two which was to wrap it all in yellow duct tape.  It was about at this point that I gave up on my vision of the guy in the above photo.  But I was not to be deterred.  If my boy wants a LEGO mini fig, then a LEGO mini fig he gets.

I cut out (large) eyeholes and a mouth and Voila!

A slightly demented LEGO Man.

I took a container of butter, emptied it into a different container, washed it out and secured it to the top of the head for the little nub with--yellow duct tape.

For the boxy shoes, I used a shoe box (I have plenty of those) and cut it in half.  Then I taped them onto Josh's shoes and cut out openings for his legs so he wouldn't trip on them.

The idea was to pull his sweat pants over them, but Josh naturally refused to wear them, so that got scrapped.

Our next order of business were the hands.  Luckily for me, Josh wanted gray hands, so regular duct tape worked wonders.  I cut the hands out of styrofoam and then wrapped them in duct tape

I took a pair of sweats and taped in the perfect size of styrofoam blocks to make his legs look blocky.  And I cut a trapezoidal shape out of cardboard to wear under his shirt for the front.  I attached the hands to gray cotton gloves so Josh could hold his own pumpkin around the neighborhood.  These three items didn't get pictures.  Sorry.

Before the final unveiling, I want everyone to know that Josh loved his costume.  And really that's all that matters.

And he was too sick to go to his Halloween party anyways.  Figures.

So here's the final production:

I think this final picture exemplifies my blog title the best:

"Undomestically Geeky". 

Book Review Friday 10/30/09

Book: Queen of Babble in the Big City
Author: Meg Cabot
Pages: 307

This is the follow-up to Queen of Babble, which I read earlier this year.  I am a HUGE fan of Meg Cabot.  She's the author behind The Princess Diaries series (which I haven't read) and a slew of other books, some of which I have read.  It's her style I love.  If my brain were an open book (heaven help us all), it would read like a Meg Cabot book.

Well, maybe like a Meg Cabot book on steriods because of all the math thingies going on in there.

But still...it's me, in book form.

Queen of Babble in the Big City picks up from when Lizzie returns to the states after a summer stay in France, where she meets Luke, her now-boyfriend (subject matter of Queen of Babble).  She decides to move to New York from her homestate of Michigan to fulfill her dreams of opening a wedding dress refurnishing shop in lower Manhattan while Luke is attending medical school at NYU.  However, Lizzie doesn't realize how hard it is to make it in New York and she tends to open her mouth at all the wrong times and places, making it doubly hard. 

I'll be honest--there's not much depth here.  But it was the perfect book for a week of de-stressing.  Or what was suppose to be de-stressing, but actually quite stressing with two Halloween costumes to make, a pot of chili to make and a host of other, less fun activities.

I would kill at this point to have a weekend to myself where I could hole up somewhere and just read.  Or watch tv or take a nap. 

A nap would be nice.

But I digress.

Meg Cabot has quickly become one of my most favorite authors and I can't wait to pick up the next book in the Queen of Babble series.

Whoa!

So it's been a week. 

One crazy, weird week.

But I have pictures.  And that's cool.  But I don't have all the pictures I need, so I need to gather my energy and restuff Josh into his demented Lego-Man outfit so I can get a total picture of my efforts. 

And kids have been sick.



And stalkers have been lurking.

And I've spent a lot of time catching up on sleep from trying to get our basement (nearly) finished.  (Pictures of that too--not of me sleeping but of our newly finished basement).

And I spent a lot of time making a Halloween costume for a kid that--thus far--has been too sick to wear it anywhere.

And then there's our new obsession on TV, Stormchasers on Discovery, where people chase tornadoes.  So stupid, yet so fascinating all at the same time.

But don't despair.  I haven't forgotten about you.  This weekend should be a picture-filled blogtastic weekend.  

Unless, it's so busy, I don't find time to come back until next week.  But rest assured, I'm thinking of you.  And there is always my Friday Book Review to look forward to.

Yawn.

But one day you will want to read a book and you'll remember that I have a bunch on my blog.  So you'll come back and find one that I reviewed and I will have done my part to make this world a better place.

Happy Halloween.  Stay warm and get lots of candy. 

Or steal it from your kids. 

Whatever.  The end justifies the means.

Smokin'

A few weeks ago I coerced my twin brother, Scott, into running a 5k with me.  Well, coerce might be a little understated.  It was more like I signed us both up for the race and then told him he was going to run it.

Why?  Because a few months ago he started running and I was so excited to finally have someone from my family start running and I started thinking about all these cool races we could do, and then he quit.  But I still made him run a 5k with me.

I'm nice like that.

The race was yesterday.  Last week, as I might have mentioned, I PRed with an awesome time (for me) of 27:07 at another local 5k.  This week, I wasn't so worried about time.  I was just going out to have fun.

The whole fam damily drove down to watch us run our 5k.  Here's us walking to the start line of the 5k:

And here's us at the starting line:

I was confident going into the race because I knew the course.  That was, until the race director told us the course, which was the opposite way then what I thought we'd be running, so it was considerably harder since it was UPHILL. 

But I was undeterred.

We started off, laughing and chatting.  At about 1 mile, I voiced my regret about eating a Tostino's pizza for lunch.  Scott echoed with his regret of two double cheeseburgers from McDonald's.

At two miles, I was regretting not having peed before the start of the race. Scott had given up on conversation by slipping his headphones in, but he laughed and said "eh, just let it go".  He was about 30 seconds too late with his advice.  We continued forth.  I pointed out the spots where I almost stepped on a skunk and the time I came across a guy with a shotgun.  Just me, him and the shotgun.

In my defense, I kept asking Scott how he was feeling and he replied good.

We ran to the high school and then we had to do a lap around the track. 

I was slightly ahead at this point, but at the top of the last straight away, Scott took off and I was left in the dust.

My cute nieces made signs for us:

It was a great run though.  Scott finished in 27:22ish and I finished in 27:32.  Not too bad for how hard the course was. AND I totally smoked my age category.  I came in first, besting #2 by over 5 MINUTES.  I've never won an age category award before.  I'm so cool.

My mom snapped pictures of us like we'd just finished 26 miles and not just 3.

 

(secret: we felt like we had just finished 26 miles and not just 3.)

I'm not really use to running in the afternoons.  Or the sunlight.  It took some adjusting.  But, all in all, we had a good time.  And I have BOTH brothers tentatively planned for the New Year's Eve run in Sugarhouse Park.

Yeah, we'll see if that happens. :)

Book Review Friday 10/23/09

I know.  Finished a basement AND a book this week.  Will I ever cease amazing you?

Book: Alicia
Author: Alicia Appleman-Jurman
Pages: 448 pages

A friend let me borrow this a while ago and it's been sitting on my nightstand for a long time.  I just wasn't in the place mentally to where I could read about the Holocaust, although it is one of my most favorite topics to read about.  Last week, I was finally there, and so I picked it back up and finished it. 

The story is the memoir of a 12 year old Polish Jewess who was living through the German occupation.  While she never is sent to a concentration camp, she does live in the ghettos in Poland and witnesses a lot of horrible things.  The things she endured over the course of the war are incredible and her fortitude is amazing.  I kept imagining some of the girls that come over and babysit for me who are about the same age and wondered if they would be as resilient.  It's always amazing what you can make yourself do if you are put in certain situations.  Your instinct to survive is a lot stronger than I think we give it credit.

By the time she is 15, the war is over and she becomes one of the displaced.  She has no family or home to return to.  But she makes her way back to Poland and starts up an orphanage for children who lost their entire families in concentration camps. 

From there she goes on to work in the underground movement to move the Jewish out of Poland and into Palenstine. 

Alicia endures heartbreak and illness, but manages to make it through in one piece without losing her faith in God or for the human race.

The story was incredible.  I really can't say enough about it.  We should be required to read stories like this to remind us that our troubles are merely bumps in the road. 

How All Our Hard Work Almost Went Up in Smoke (Literally)

Last night, we were doing some final things in the basement before the carpet layers came to lay carpet (imagine that...carpet layers laying carpet.  Amazing!) this morning.  It was late (like 2 am late) and we had unhooked one of the lights in the bedroom to paint around it.  So we were using our trusty spotlight of which we had been using to work on the basement up until Monday night.

Because we had run out of "proper" lightbulbs for said spotlight, we were using one with a much larger watt size than was recommended.  But, that wasn't going to deter us.  So Wade laid the spotlight down on top of the plastic covering the desk of which the entire basement is built around--that sucker isn't going anywhere--and proceeded to paint.  Then he came upstairs for a minute while I was taking a break.


As we made our way back downstairs we could smell something burning from one of the back bedrooms.  Lo and behold, as the plastic heated up under the spotlight because the wattage in the lightbulb was so high, it burned a hole right down to the desk and was well on it's way to starting a castastrophic fire that would have, at the very least, gutted our entire basement--the very one that was within HOURS of being completed--if not the entire house. 

Can you imagine being that close and having it all burn down to the ground at 3 in the morning?   

Good Weekend Moments

It's been a good weekend.  To make up for a very crappy and stressful week:

Last weekend we painted our walls.  A nice shade of PINK.  I was not so happy when I woke up the next morning, excited we were so close to being done, and finding my ENTIRE basement covered in strawberry ice cream. 

How does one paint their entire basement pink? 

See, we have a guy in the neighborhood who is a painter for a living.  When he handed us the color templates, both Wade and I were overwhelmed.  We had a vague idea of what color we wanted, (hint: it wasn't pink) but there were SO many to choose from.  Bob suggested a particular color combination that he really likes and we went with it.  It looked so nice on a 2 inch by 2 inch square.  We bought 10 gallons of it and promptly forgot what color it was until Wade sprayed it on the walls.

Wade and I both stared at the walls and tried to will ourselves to like the color, but I just couldn't.  And with the furniture we bought for the basement a year ago, it would've looked horrendous, so we had no choice.  We had to repaint it.

And the quest was on.  Though, we didn't have a lot of time because in our exuberance, we scheduled the electrician for tomorrow morning and the carpet people for Thursday and a family party for my side on Saturday to watch the BYU-TCU game on the projector screen.  Throw in three assignments Wade has due, a scout campout, painting the ceilings, and work and we've kind of put a big time crunch on ourselves. 

So a process that would've taken the old Wade and Sandra a month to agree upon, was now condensed to two days.  Find a new paint color pronto.

I spent Monday at Home Depot looking for the "right" shade I was envisioning.  Didn't find it.  So I spent Tuesday at the paint store where we got the original color talking to the paint technician. (Bad sentence structure.  Sorry.  Don't care.  You get the idea.) We talked for 15 minutes and he was just this side of helpful.  But I did manage to find a color I really liked and went with just a quart of it to try on the walls.  I slapped it up, loved it and then handed the decision to Wade. 

I have no problem making decisions...

Wade took Wednesday off from work and went in to talk to the paint people himself, arriving home with 8 gallons of paint.  I wasn't sure what color he was going to choose because it was still up in the air when he left, but he did go with the color I chose.

Smart man.

He slapped that paint up on the walls and now we have finally achieved nirvana.  Or something akin.

Saturday morning, I headed off to a local 5k.  Which was the beginning of my FANTASTIC weekend.  The course was the same as the running course of the triathlon I've done twice now.  The first year, I ran the 5k portion in 33:17.  This year, I ran it in 33:28.  It's a challenging course.  The first mile is a gradual uphill and then it flattens out and then it's downhill for a smidge and then you turn around and head back, though you turn before you get the full benefit of running back down the gradual uphill.  My only goal was to beat 30 minutes.  But, in the back of my mind, I thought it'd be cool to PR on this course.  But it was a lofty goal since my current PR stands at 27:33. 

I started off, keeping it cool and not sprinting up the first mile.   My neighbor across the street and I were neck and neck.  He's a faithful 5 am runner as well.  I felt really good--and even better when I could spot my training buddy, H.  It's always a good feeling when H is still in my line of sight during a race.  We ran on, each of us alone with our ipods and thoughts. 

As the neighbor and I made the final turn for the last half mile, I pulled slightly ahead for a bit, but I looked across the road to see him right beside me with about a quarter mile left.  I had to cross the street and as we pulled into the parking lot for the last bit, he was slightly ahead of me.  I motioned for all the onlookers to be quiet and at the last possible second, I veered right past him to the finish line.  I was probably two steps ahead, but I still won the duel.

Not only did I win the duel, but I set a PR of 27:07 AND came in fourth (I had originally thought 5th, but at church, I was corrected) OVERALL for the women. 

Not that there were a lot of women.

But still...

I can't begin to tell you have happy this made me.  I'm starting to feel like maybe a Boston Qualifier in a year isn't so out of the picture.  Baby steps, though.  I still haven't run a 5k at a pace that I need to keep to run a marathon.  But I've taken 4 minutes off alone this year and 6 minutes off of this course alone.

When I returned home, Wade's dad was out here, helping Wade paint the ceilings.  He was such a godsend.  I don't think we would've been ready to have the electrician in by tomorrow if he hadn't come out to help.

When I say that we have finished our basement, I mean to say that WE (or rather, more so Wade) has finished the basement.  By himself.  Except for a day of framing help from my brother, a day of laying tile from his brother, and help building the fireplace mantel from a neighbor, Wade has done this entire project on his own.  We hired out the plumbing, the drywall and the electrical.  Everything else has been him.  And he's done an AMAZING job.

So much so that I haven't thought about the "Dream House" in well over a month now. 

I guess it's for the best.

T-5 days and we will be DONE!

Book Review Friday 10/16/09

So, it's not like I haven't been reading.  I have.  But this week, I've spent a lot of time researching a speech I did on the Japanese Internment of World War II on Thursday.  And it was a big hit.  I was surprised that not a lot of people knew much about this particular incident in our nation's history.

By surprised, I mean that I thought maybe it was my supposedly sub-par West Side education that failed me, but apparently, it's one of those incidents that we, as a nation, have swept under the rug.  How disgusted we must have felt when we came to learn of Hitler's atrocities of imprisoning people in camps based solely on their race...

I read a few books (parts of them anyways) and what not.  Even read one while I was blowdrying the basement.  (Don't ask.)

But I didn't read anything that was spectacular.  Not that there probably isn't something out there that is spectacular.  Just that, I picked up what the Magna Library had on the Japanese Internment and it wasn't a lot (Magna being on the west side, I imagine).  So I didn't have a lot to choose from.

One day soon, I'll bestow upon you my new found knowledge.  But it's late, and I'm tired, so I'm not going to do it tonight.
But I will leave you with words of wisdom. 

You're welcome.

Read.  Read lots.  Because when you read, you find things you want to learn about.  Like the Japanese Internment stemming from a book I reviewed a few weeks back called Picture Brides.  And that fosters more reading and you become smart.

Or smarter.  More smart?

And people will bow down to you, and hail you as their intellectual goddess (god?) and you will feel great about yourself and then you will want to impress them even more, so you'll read other things and learn big words and sound as though you know what you're talking about at social gatherings.

And all this because you picked up a book.

Reading is power people.  So read.


*end Public Service Announcement*

Weekend in Pictures

So technically not this weekend, but I found the picture on our camera.  And it's the only one we have of all four of us (sad, I know).  So here it is.  This is when we went camping in June and I thought I was going to die.  But don't I look like I'm having fun?

This was Josh at his first soccer game, technically not this weekend either.  It was in September.  He wouldn't let go of the coach's hand, though, naturally I didn't get a picture of that.  But I did get a picture of her coaxing him to play.  Which is pretty much the gist of the game.

What a difference a few short weeks make.  Instead of wrestling him into his uniform, he (almost) willingly got in it this week.  And even posed for a picture.  He's a cute kid.  The uniforms are one size fits all, so it's a little big.

We did really well during the first half of the game.  Josh didn't even have to hold the coach's hand.  He ran and kicked the ball and didn't cry when another kid kicked the ball away from him.

That was until some kid, I think, stepped on his hand when they were lying in a heap on the field.  Then Josh screamed at the coach that he hated soccer and never wanted to play again and ran off the field in tears.  But at least we made it to the third quarter this week.  Most weeks, he's left the field in tears before the half.  Like any good mom, I make him sit there for the entire game.  Just so he knows that tears aren't going to garner him an early release from this apparent hell I'm putting him through every Saturday morning.

In other news, look at how big my little girl is getting.  And she's so smart, trying to figure out Josh's toys already.  Look at that hair!  It's finally growing in, though there still isn't much to do anything with and she does look like a boy.  But she's still cute.

That's alotta baby cleavage.

This is Aunika asleep, all smashed into the crib as though there isn't an entire crib to stretch out in.  It's how we find her every night.  It's almost like she just gave up begging to come out and will resume in the morning.  Which is totally the opposite.  We just lay her down and leave the room.  She's usually asleep within 15 minutes.

And lastly, this is my first attempt at a full-blown turkey this afternoon.  As it so happens, when Wade painted the trim to the basement on Thursday (I'm not sure I've mentioned this, but we're finishing our basement) he unplugged the deep freeze we have down there that was storing--among other, less resilient things--a 15 lb turkey my dad got from work (don't ask) that was going to be our Thanksgiving turkey.

When we went down there today--our first time, really since Thursday night--Wade noticed a puddle of water by the deep freeze, which reminded him that he did not plug the deep freeze back in after he was done painting.

So we had to eat our Thanksgiving turkey early.  Like, tonight.  By ourselves.  And since I wasn't entirely planning on making a turkey today, I had to pilfer through a friend's pantry to locate a few side dishes.  So we ate turkey with chicken gravy and pork stuffing.  Luckily, I had potatoes.  The rolls were a lost cause though.  As were a number of other items, but we didn't lose that much food. We had cleaned the deep freezer out a few months back in anticipation of painting, and then over time, I've been putting stuff down there.  You know, until we painted.

But, the turkey turned out okay and I only had to make one phone call concerning the gizzards and neck that the package said I needed to remove.  I found the gizzards, and was about to put the turkey in the oven figuring they forgot the neck when my friend mentioned that you can't miss it.  It's in there somewhere.  So I had to go searching for that, which I found, luckily, shoved somewhere not pretty.  I was doing this all while explaining to Josh that this particular turkey didn't come with a head because he seemed to be (rightfully) concerned about the lack of one and where it went.  And so I took a picture to immortalize my baptism by fire pseudo-Thanksgiving dinner.  It's a bit big for two people.  I would imagine by the end of the week, I will never want to look at another piece of turkey as long as I live.

Feeling (un)Groovy

I'm sick.

But not that kind of sick.  I'm perfectly happy with two kids.  I think I could remain perfectly happy too, but my better half is not on the same page. (Of course he isn't.  He hasn't really been around for baby #2.  But that's for another day...)

(It's funny once you get married, you now feel compelled to explain your sicknesses.  Because if you don't dispel any notion of being pregnant, people automatically think you are if you mention you're sick.  Like women of child-bearing age can't get the flu or food poisoning).

I have a cold.  Complete with headache and sinus ache and stuffy nose and sneezing and I'm trying, desperately, to keep it out of my lungs.  Because once it lodges itself in my lungs, I can kiss my running goodbye for the next 8 weeks.  And I don't have time to do that.  Nor will my sanity remain intact for that long.

I have goals people. 

And so I've been moping around the house for two days now. 

Except for a brief foray to Josh's soccer game where I managed to kick a (beautiful, perfectly executed) ball into the chest of a four year old.

And I took two naps today.  Or that's what Wade would have you believe.  But really, they weren't naps because (a) they were both under 1 hour and (b) I could hear everything that was going on.  So therefore I wasn't really asleep.  Just wishing I was.

So.  I have nothing for my devoted fans.  Not even a book review.  I hope that I will be back in working condition Monday but if not, well, just wait longer. 

Slow Week

So, it's Wednesday.  And, still I have nothing.  I hate these kinds of weeks.  Weeks that seem to drag on because there's nothing funny/interesting that happens.  I could pull a story from back in the day, but nothing even comes to mind.  *Sigh*

Let's see:

I signed me and two other friends up for the St. George Marathon on Monday.  Well, not exactly the marathon.  The runner series that leads up to the marathon.  It's a program that was instilled to give 500 (this year, 750) runners the chance of an automatic entry into the marathon.  Nice, because the last few years over 8000 people have put in for the lottery and only 2000 are picked.  So, if you're going to do the St. George marathon, this is the way to do it.  You only "have" to run 2 races down in St. George between now and May to qualify.  There's a set list of races, so we're doing the Painter's Half Marathon in January and the Spectrum 10k in March, both races I've done in the past.  I like the half in January because it's something to work towards during the holidays.  But here's a secret.  It's freakin' cold in January in St. George.  I don't care who you talk to or if you've lived there your whole life or what the weatherman says, 20 degrees in January is still 20 degrees.  Even if there's no snow. And it feels colder down there than it does up here because it's all blue skies and crap.  Crap, I say.  Because when there's no cloud cover, it's friggin' COLD.

Keeping with the running theme, I almost passed out this morning.  Stuffy noses.  Asthma. That was fun.

Monday, Josh managed to open all the doors to the car and leave them that way for most of the day.  Then, while he was throwing a temper tantrum--which included actual throwing of inanimate objects--I locked him out of my room while I was inside cleaning.  After about 15 minutes, I opened it up and he said (wailed?) that there was someone at the door.  Of course there was. Come peer in at my chaos, why don't ya?  But, when I went to the door, no one was there. That's when I noticed all the doors were opened to the car.  So I shut them.

The next morning, I woke up for my run and noticed that the front door to the house was WIDE open.  Apparently, we didn't lock it when we went to bed and the wind pushed it open.  Aside from all the neighborhood cats staring at our cats from the porch, I didn't see anything out of place, so I went on the run.  I mentioned on Facebook how the door was left open all night.  That's when the neighbor chimed in and said that her daughter came over the day before to borrow something and Josh answered the door crying.  She couldn't understand him so she just went to the next neighbor's house.  But, the daughter did mention to her mother that all the doors to the car were wide open and that was kind of strange.

So here's my question:  At what point was someone going to come over and check on me?  Because if all my doors are open and my kid answers the front door crying, wouldn't you be a little worried that maybe I was dead?  Or sick?  Or...well, something?

I called Wade and told him that the neighbors are starting to notice that I'm unraveling. 

"Uh-oh" was the response I got.  Apparently, I haven't been hiding it so well from him either.

On a lighter note, I've been going to bed two hours earlier than usual and feel amazing.  See, it dawned on me that I was approaching 30--which use to seem ancient, but with a little perspective, isn't all that old--and I have to stop living like a college student.  Especially since I'm not one.  If I plan on getting up 5 days a week at 5:00 am, then I need to be going to bed before 1 am. Because I'm getting old.  And I have responsibilities now.  They're ages 4 and 10 months.  And so, I've been going to bed at 10 pm.  Wade, on the other hand, is ageless and therefore can still be going to bed at 1 am. 

Also, with graduating from my college self into my mature adult self, I went out and bought some new shirts.  Mainly because I had no shirts save the t-shirts I get from running 5ks.  Which look funny with skirts at church.  So I forced myself to find nice, comfy shirts that look good and aren't "college" attire. 

I love my "college" attire, but it's time to look like I'm almost 30.  Though, it should be noted that I've tried this before to no avail.  But, I will persevere.

When I shop I tend to lean towards the blacks and the whites, with the occassional blue thrown in.  This time, though, I told myself no black, white or blue shirts.  I ended up with a fuschia (a color the old me would NEVER wear), a pale green, an orange, a brown, another greenish color and a white (everyone needs at least one nice white shirt) shirt. 

Oh and purple shoes.

Watch out world!  I'm coming out of my shell.

Book Review Friday 10/02/09

Ha.  But it's Sunday you say.

So.

Book: The Virgin Queen's Daughter
Author: Ella March Chase
Pages: 347

I was a little hesitant to pick up this book.  For starters, I know next to nothing about the Elizabethian era.  I have heard a few of the more famous names throughout my (very limited) history education: King Henry VIII, Ann Boleyn, Katherine Parr (maybe?).  But that was it. 

By which I mean, that was all I knew.

Secondly, I'm not really into historical fiction...blah, blah, zzzzzzzzz.

And so with these two strikes against me, I'm now breaking with Friday tradition to write a review on Sunday for this book that I just finished.

(And you thought I took the week off.)

Because I enjoyed it that much.

The story follows Nell, a country borne girl who grew up in a family with some ties to the Royal family (or something.  I enjoyed the book, but I didn't get all of the formalities.)  Nell's father taught her everything he could, breaking mold with the notion that women weren't as intelligent as men.  From an early age Nell wanted to escape her small town(?) and become a servant(?) for Queen Elizabeth I, who was educated much the same way that Nell was. 

Nell, against her mom's greatest wishes, leaves to go to court (Queen Elizabeth I's) and once there discovers secrets that threaten to unravel her and perhaps end her life.

The story line itself was intriguing.  It held my interest for sure.  But what I really liked about this read was the historical backgrounds thrown in.  I was especially pleased that you didn't have to have much of a previous knowledge of Queen Elizabeth I, the Tudors (Queen Elizabeth I's bloodline) or her reign to fully appreciate the story .   The inner workings of the court and the reign of Queen Elizabeth I FASCINATED me.

The characters were well developed and you had a definitive sense of like/dislike for each one of them.



I don't want to give away any more of the story, so I'll leave it at that, but suffice it to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to anyone and everyone.  If not for the story itself, then definitely for the in depth study of life at that time during Queen Elizabeth's reign. Note, however, that the author makes no secret that she took liberties with the historical aspect for the sake of the story, so it's not all true.  Which is why it's historical fiction.  But there was definitely a lot of research involved.

House Rules

I play pretty well with other people.  But, I've had to set up a few house rules so that everything goes smoothly:

1.  All visitors must be wearing pants when they arrive
This rule may seem pointless.  Really, are there people out there going door to door with no pants on?

Yes.  Yes there are.

But, by  people I mean "little" kids, not my friends or anything.

Because my friends all show up fully clothed.  Usually.

I made this rule for three main reasons:
(a) If you are old enough to come to my house to play--which is quite different from running away from your house and even more different then "playdates" which is just babysitting--then you're old enough to wear your pants to my house. Now, I'm sympathetic to a child running away and ending up at my house--once or twice.  But daily suggests that pants are optional at your house and maybe you need to have a little sit down to discuss proper visiting attire.



(b) I understand there are "accidents" when no one has taught you proper bathroom habits.  Pants allow for an extra layer of coverage protecting my stuff from your bodily fluids.  And since you're "playing" not being "babysat" it does not fall under the realm of my jurisdiction should you choose to bypass my bathroom and use your pants instead and so, I just send you home.  It's much easier to walk home if everything is contained in your pants and not spilling out of your underwear.
(c) In most situations, a child standing on my doorstep in just his underwear is a sign that he has snuck out of his house unaware.  Shortly, a red-faced, apologetic mother will arrive to collect her wayward son.  However, this is hardly not always the case.  Thus, if I send you home to get pants, you must find your mom to get you your pants and then she will (in theory) ask where you're headed.  You will tell her to your friend's and then she knows.  See how swift that is?

2.  Please do not rifle through my pantry looking for food.

It's a pet peeve.  I don't want other people looking for food in my house.  If you're that hungry, go home and eat.

3.  When I say "no food in the living room" I mean to say "no food in the living room".  That includes any food that you may have pilfered from your own home to bring to my home because of rule #2.

This stems from that nasty incident involving ground up graham crackers in the carpet while you were watching tv.

4.  DO NOT go into my room.  EVER.  It's my room.  I don't come to your house and go pilfering through your stuff looking for money.

5.  Any money found on my property is my money.

6.  Knock once and then wait.  Do not continue knocking until I open the door.  Because here's a little secret:  When you knock like that, I know it's you.  And thus, if by some small miracle, Josh has not heard it, I will ignore you until you grow tired of knocking and leave.

7.  If you are using my bathroom, please close the door.

8.  If you need to use my bathroom more than 3 times in a 30 minute time period,  you have a problem and need to go home.

9.  No, my son cannot accompany you to "Bubblegum Man's" house.  I don't care that your mom lets you go.  Clearly, we've established that your mom and I operate under different sets of rules.

10.  Do not argue with me.  You are six.  It's my house, and therefore my rules.

See, just a few rules.  Shouldn't be too hard. I think, when I was a little kid, this stuff was pretty much common sense.  

The Unpopular Stance

I'm going to take the seemingly unpopular position on something.  I know.  I'm going out on a limb, risking alienation from my dozen fans, but I'm going with it.  And you can't stop me:

I think, ethics and morality and common sense aside, that David Letterman did the right thing by coming clean on his tv show the way he did. 

*gasp*

Let me clarify.

Do I think it's right for him to be sleeping with women that work for him?  No.  Do I really care?  No.  Well, except enough to devote precious time on my blog about it. 

But it's the principle of the thing, not really Dave Letterman per se.

So here's the thing.  The entertainment/political/famous wannabes worlds have been dealing with infidelity and in particular, this issue, for a while.  Probably since the dawning of time.  As we, as a society, have become more hungry to get the scoop on everyone's private lives, these people who choose to live life in the limelight have lost control of their private lives.  But most likely, they lost control of it a long time before the media started snooping. 

It would seem that "keep pants on" should be common sense when you reach a certain level of stardom.  On second thought "keep pants on" is a pretty good motto to follow for most everyone.  But, especially if milions of people know you. 

So, anyways, back to Davey Boy.  If you're living under a rock then you might not have heard of the lastest in his life.  He always seems to get the good stuff too.  With the alleged kidnapping scheme involving his son and his nanny (the son's, not Dave's) and now this.  Here's the shortened version:

Man wants money.  Man schemes to get money from Letterman by exposing Letterman and his "creepy" (Letterman's words, not mine) acts.  Letterman calls cops.  Cops determine it's blackmail.  Cops set up sting operation.  Man is arrested, but Letterman must now confess to "creepy" things in front of a grand jury.

But instead of waiting for all this to hit the news stands--because you know it will.  It always does--Letterman took the controversial position of announcing it on his show.

Time out.  I didn't grow up in a Letterman household.  We were strictly a Leno home.  But, over the years since leaving the Leno home, I've come to appreciate Letterman's self-deprecating sense of humor.  He has a lot of funny things about him.  But I don't generally watch him.  I choose to spend that block of time either catching up on other shows that are recorded, reading, or sleeping.  But I will catch him on occassion.  I was a little saddened by his choice of joke material when he went after Sarah Palin's 14 year old daughter earlier this summer, but out of principle, I don't make it a habit of boycotting shows or people.  Everyone says stupid things (me, me) and as long as they apologize about it, I'm good.  I can forgive. 

So, no I didn't actually see this happen "live".  I read about it and then watched a clip of it the next day.  But still...

At first, I thought it was kind of a joke.  And I can only imagine what was going through everyone's mind watching it "live".  But it was getting kind of serious and I did know the background since I was reading an article about it. 

And here's what I liked about it:  He admitted that he did sleep with women that worked for him.  But then, he didn't apologize.  He didn't stammer through a half-thought out apology about using his power or fame to gain the attentions of younger women.  He just left it as is.  Because, really what it came down to, is it was two consenting adults participating in an activity that was really no one else's business but their own.  While he's been with the same lady for 23 years, he only recently got married in March and supposedly these affairs went on before then.  So he wasn't "technically" breaking any rules or anything. 

So what made it different from the other apologies we've seen lately?  Well, for one, there was no "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" statements.  He admitted it clean out.  There was no sneaking around and avoiding questions.  But, namely, he beat the media to the punch by admitting it himself, shocking the viewers and sending the media into a tailspin.

So much so that The Today Show spent close to an hour discussing this very story with three legal analysts on Friday morning.  Really?  This is the most important thing that we could find to talk about?  And that makes me sadder than to think that there are women my age that would sleep with Dave Letterman.  *shudder*