Maybe, just maybe, I'm a New Yorker at Heart. Or an impatient asshole. Your pick.

I had 20 minutes for lunch on Friday (none on Saturday, but that is a whole different story). I went to Cafe Latte, but the line was four miles long. So I went across the street to their bastard child, Bread and Chocolate and the line was three people long. Hooray!

Then I realized that two of these people were in the giggly new flush of love. Shit. They were so busy ogling each other they didn't even look at the menu until it was their turn, which, goodness gracious, they thought was so cute! You could tell they were thinking, "the world, it can not intrude on special, wonderful us." After finally tearing their eyes away from each other long enough to order, they meandered to the register. To fondle. Not to pay. Good Lord, why would they do such a thing!?!

I got my food and stood waiting while they finally thought to pay. Then it was a fight of who would pay. Finally, after what seemed like hours, fucking god damn hours, he paid the cash while she dug in her purse for the exact change. After handing the money over, they locked eyes and smiled at their unity in a cash transaction.

It was so sweet I wanted to tear their heads off and dunk them in coffee, hot, scalding coffee.

So yes, my heart is black, but god damn it people, there is a moral here and that is "don't fuck with my lunch."

I think I just might be losing it.

"Hmm. . ." I wonder to myself, "do I smell the sharp, pungent aroma of dog pee, or is that just the coffee maker?"

"Do they smell the same?"

"Probably not."

"I think I'm just losing it."

Xmas card - Starring: The Keathlys, Jesse, Sarah and a special guest appearance by Melanie's hat!

Don't send a lame Holiday eCard. Try JibJab Sendables!

No wonder he didn't like T-ball.

Noah got glasses today. He wished for them, so he could look like Daddy. I imagine that the evil eye fairy came in the middle of the night and with a swish-swish of her wand, took away some of his vision. Damn fairy.

It's also easier to blame the fairy than myself, especially when he failed the vision part of his pre-K screening almost two years ago. The teacher thought he could see but was just fooling around so I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to it. Bad Lisa. Very, very, bad Lisa.

My consolation? The kid looks damn good in his new glasses.

Hmm . . . I wonder how long I can milk mama's guilt on this one. . .

Damn, baby! I DO look good in glasses!!!

The bad news? He was diagnosed with nystagmus which is an "involuntary eye movement which usually results in some degree of visual loss." When he focuses on something while looking straight ahead you can see his eyes wiggle back and forth. He will tilt his head to the side and try to look out of the corner of his eye to make the wiggling stop. At this point we don't know what is causing it or what the degree is. They made a referral to a pediatric optomologist so we will know more after that appointment. All I really know is that it is frightening.

Holy Catch-up Batman.

This morning I spent two and a half hours paying bills, making appointments, filling out forms and in general, catching up on all the necessary chores that keep our lives humming along smoothly.

It's surprising how many things I take care of every day. No wonder I love hiding in the bathtub every night. There's bills to pay, appointments to organize, filters to change, animals to have groomed, people to feed. The list could be endless, especially with my vivid imagination.

I however, have prevailed. At least for today. My list of things to do is finished. I did everything on it, no matter how trivial.

Now I am off to clean the living room so Noah and I can put up the Christmas tree.

Yea for feeling accomplished and an evening of Christmas music and my zany child full of quirky antics to look forward to!

Crappy Thanksgiving

My week:

MONDAY 7:30 A.M.
Woke to the two main symptoms of the flu (you know what they are people, no need to get graphic). The neighbor walked Noah to school and picked him up. I spent the day in the bathroom and the closest soft horizontal surface to the toilet. I have never been so sick in my life.

MONDAY 11:45 P.M.
Horrific stomach cramps. So painful. COULD NOT BREATHE. Could not stop shaking. Took an ambulance to the hospital so they could pump me full of fluids and potassium.

TUESDAY
Missed an hour of training. No biggie. Started easting solid foods. Slept 3/4 of the day.

WEDNESDAY
Pushed myself to attend 3 hours of training in the morning. Big mistake. Body called, "Mutiny!' and I was back on the couch for the rest of the day. Oh yeah, and now Stan is sick too. Kind lady Sarah brings us sustenance.

THURSDAY
Sadness ensues. We cannot go to Thanksgiving. We had been looking forward to this day at Reade and John's house for weeks. Instead Stan and I sleep the day away while Jesse and Sarah bring Noah over to the feast. They brought us leftovers, but it wasn't the same.

FRIDAY
I call in sick to my 11 hour shift at work. Have option to cuddle in a corner for the Walker family Thanksgiving. Although I am tempted, since I am missing this, the most glorious of holidays, I am not up for it. Besides, there are two babies with wee immune systems who must be avoided. Noah might go to play with the cousins though.

Add to this that my other sisters are

1. Working on Thanksgiving over 1,000 miles away
2. Evicted and also sick
   

and this is truly a horrid holiday. Life, she is a bitch.

Having kids is the bestest thing ever to happen. Despite everything I have said to the opposite. Really. I like him very much.

I was reading Noah a story in his bed. He was cuddled up in his blanket, leaning against me.

Suddenly! The child was moving his foot around in the mound of blankets and exclaimed, "Mom! I found a secret tunnel!"

Children are most excellent. Especially mine.

OMG! Project Runway! Squeal!!!

I am so excited I could poop.

My guy

I just checked on Noah and Stan, who are both cuddled up asleep in bed, snoring. Noah looks like a miniature Stan, whose quiet snores even imitate his Dad. It's one of those warm and fuzzy moments of my life where I realize how lucky I am to have Noah, and most of all, to have Stan.

Stan and Noah the morning after our camping trip from H-E-L-L.
An hour earlier Stan was curled up in the backseat of the car, trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. Tired and sore, he still is up for coloring games with Noah at IHOP.

When I talk about Stan, I smile. I simply can't help it. I met him when I was 17. Seven years later we started dating. A year and 47 days after our first date, we were married.

Things weren't always roses and sunshine. There were stages. Like:

• Getting to know each other
  
• Yikes, this marriage thing is forever.
  
• Did I give up my freedom too young?
• Wow, his family is whacked.
• Man, oh man, my family is a freak show.
• Is is time for counseling?
• New baby colic time.
• Gee, it would be nice to have more money.

We have grown up together. We are still growing together. We have gone through a horrendous amount of extended family turmoil and came out mostly, if not completely, intact.

The life we have built together is a very good one. When we do have trials, we know that there is a loving, caring partner waiting at home to patch our wounds and empathize. I have never loved coming home more than after I married Stan.

Stan channeling Harry Potter through the cheesy glow in the dark Harry Potter glasses I got at the Barnes and Noble release party for the 7th book in the series. Not only does Stan love me, but he puts up with my incessant reading. The man is a saint.

Stan is 38 on Friday. I have gotten material gifts for him, but what I really want to give him is an excellent year full of fun, adventure and, most of all, love.

Happy Birthday to my one and only true love.

Jesus Vs. Republican Jeezus

My three day weekend.

Three days? Really? It seems more like one.

Friday night I was home at the ripe old time of 5:00 PM and I am off until Tuesday morning. This is a taste of what the 9-5, M-F types get. I like it. I don't like making only $8 during my two weeks of training, but whatcha gonna do?

Saturday I whisked Stan away to the Nicollet Island Inn for the night. It wasn't as glamorous or fun as I planned, but three days of taking care of a sick, over-emotional child will do that to you. It was all we could do to keep awake after dinner for the short walk to our room.

We were looking forward to a good night of uninterrupted sleep, but the Sleep Number bed we were trying out was uncomfortable. We hated it. Reade and John said it took some getting used to, but I believe a mattress should be comfy from the start.

Sarah and Jesse came to our rescue when Grandma Reade came down with a cold and babysat Noah for the night. In return for their kindness they got a boy hyped up on cold medicine and ribs for dinner. Not a fair trade in the least, but they still said yes.

In the morning I wanted to take them to Hell's Kitchen for breakfast. We arrived to find a 90 minute wait, so we ate at the Newsroom instead. The food was okay, but the service sucked.

Which brings us to today. A day for errands and hanging with the boy. Then it's back to the grind. No more Saturdays off for me!

Sigh.

Just in time for Halloween

A creepy pink eye.

I have the exact same symptoms I had last time: painful, swollen eyelid and pus oozing red/pink eyeball. Just like last time, it went into the second eye, but was not as bad.

In the middle of the night I broke out the old antibiotic eye drops in hopes that it would cure me so I could go to work (training) today. It didn't work. So this morning I was off to Urgent Care. I saw the same doctor, told him the same thing as last time and got completely different treatment. Last time he thought it was a bacterial infection. This time he thinks it's allergies.

What. The. Fuck?

Is it because I was struck down with pink eye for a second time? That's like changing treatment because someone got a second cold in their lifetime. He kept alluding to seasonal allergies, even though the last time I got pink eye it was in April. APRIL, Mr. Smarty McDoctorPants, not October.

I am frustrated. I am also still taking the old antibiotics even though it is verboten to do so. I figure it's okay since they don't expire until 2009. I am also grudgingly taking the allergy medicine and drops the doctor prescribed. So if it's bacterial or from allergies I should be covered. If it's viral it will just play itself out.

Damn, I hope I can go to training tomorrow. Today I can afford to miss the training since it was basically a review, but tomorrow I really need to go. Living one more day without knowing how to give an Aveda Carribean Body Wrap treatment is completely unacceptable!

You know you are a redneck if

You wear old underwear as a shirt. Talk about a commitment to recycling.


(Also my Halloween costume for next year. Aw, yeah.)

Apple Orchard Pumpkin Time

Last night Stan and I went to a Halloween Party. He was an Executioner and I was the big breasted slut that gets killed in every horror movie.

Today we switched into family mode and took Noah to the apple orchard and then the pumpkin farm.

He saw some big cement structures.

Then he turned into a tiger

and got eaten by a vampire.

Tonight is pumpkin carving and watching "The Littlest Vampire."

Halloween. It rocks.

Glam Guns for Girls

I have been waiting my whole life for this.

Jeannie vs. Carmella

Stan: "I just finished watching the Sopranos episode where Tony's girlfriend calls his wife and tells her that she's been shtupping her husband for years and he's now banging the one legged caretaker. Do you know what it reminded me of? It reminded me of watching an old I Dream of Jeannie episode. You know how they were always stepping in the dog poop or doing something uncomfortable to watch. No matter how much you didn't want them to do it, you knew they would and you couldn't stop watching."

Lisa: "You do realize that you just compared the discomfort of watching the Sopranos to the discomfort of the zany antics on I Dream of Jeannie?"

Stan: "Yes."

Lisa: Uncontrollable laughter. "I love you."

You should have at least one in your home!

Wow. Watch and be amazed.

What up, yo?

Time keeps on tickin' and all that jazz.

Work is still slow, but I am hopeful that if I just hang on until November it will pick up.

I have been reading good books, taking a lot of HOT baths and simply love spending time with my boys.

This week has been hard with the sleeping, but I am resigned to stay up this morning and get some shit done around the house. Like blogging, which is very important.

I also need to get back to the gym, but will leave that until Monday. This week it's just not gonna happen. I hate the idea of going but love working out when I am there and feeling good about it afterwards.

Today I get to have lunch with Noah before I pull the 3 - 8 shift at work. There is nothing more entertaining than having lunch with 26 kindergarten kids. They are a ball of furious energy and they all want to talk to me, sit by me and play with me simultaneously. If you ever feel unwanted, this, my friends, is the cure.

So that's it. A post to catch you up and let you know I am still alive, if not kicking. After all, kicking at my age is indiscreet.

OMG The irony. . . the freakin' irony.

Today I worked a five hour shift. I only had one client. Which means I only got paid for one out of five hours. Yes, I get paid a lot. But what I do is strenuous. Seriously. Deep tissue massage hurts me while I make you feel better. Yes, that is irony. I love irony. I love it so much I should get a t-shirt or a tattoo. But in the hard knock reality the fact is that in helping people feel better I am putting myself in jeopardy.

I try to get sleep, eat right, use proper body mechanics, get regular massage myself (Fuck! God damn it! I forgot to call George and schedule my massage this week! FUCK!! GOD DAMN IT!!! SHIT!!!!)

The life of a care giver, healer, what ever you want to fucking call it, is paved with (right of BOOM!) mine fields. Our passion is to help others heal, or patch them up enough to heal themselves and/or others. It is as fucking strenuous as your counselor hearing your deep dark secret memories, because, let's face it mother fucker, if something is buried in your mind, it's buried in your muscle tissue memory and if I release it, you better fucking believe I will be able to help you deal with it.

Otherwise your body wouldn't have felt comfortable to let it go. I have a B.S. (no, it doesn't stand for Bull Shit, although sometimes I feel that might be more adequate of a designation. It stands for a Bachelor of Science in Psychology which I studied four hard, long, years for). I attract criers and I think it's because they know I can handle the emotional deluge they let loose in my therapy room. It's a safe place with an experienced, trained professional who will take what you give as par for the course and be nonjudgmental.

Damn. I love what I do.

This month is slow. It's hard since I started at a company I really love during their slow time (so there's not much payback for my efforts). But I honestly think the owner and the company's vibe match my own. I believe things will work out and I will be very happy with my job. So far, not bad, and the prognoses is excellent. So I'm holding out for the good stuff and loving what I've been able to do and experience so far.

Because they hate me.

Stan is playing with Noah in the only room in the house I occupy. He is currently blasting him with his "chocolate rain" ray. You can guess where that came from, right? I just showed Stan the original chocolate rain video because he read Jesse's post and was stumped about who Tay Zonday was.

Oh, thank the blessed universe, Stan realized his error and took the boy downstairs to watch some Woody Woodpecker cartoons. Yesterday at Target I bought the boy the complete collection for a mere $35. Three disks to rot his healthy little boy brain. 75 cartoons to occupy him so I don't have to parent and can crash with some alcohol and my own brain rotting activity. Like TV, ooh, I love TV. Or the internets. If the internets had a mouth I would kiss it. Hard, but not too hard.

Anyhow, to continue with this stream of consciousness post, wanna know what it's like having a job that pays commission? Some days you are booked solid with clients and make an obscene amount of money. Then the Fall season hits and for some reason the salon spa is dead. Serious tumbleweed time. I had one 90 minute massage today during my 8 hour shift. That's right. $69 for 8 hours of work. Blech.

I was bored. I finished a sweater I was crocheting for baby T (or "cube" as he is affectionately called), helped put stock away, read some magazines, got my legs waxed (YIKES) and wandered aimlessly through the chilly day.

No clients have booked with me for tomorrow. Yet. I am sending positive vibes to remedy the situation. Those rich Summit avenue types will all be getting mysteriously tense this evening and calling the salon spa for massage! Yes. It will happen.

I hope.

I didn't mean it that way.

While getting a massage, I've had clients say some things they don't really mean to be naughty, but since they are lying there naked, it's sometimes hard not to hear it that way.

Like:

"You can go a little deeper."

"Wow, you can really feel everything inside me."

"Mmmm . . . perfect pressure."

"You really know how to work slow and deep."

"I like it."

"Do you do men/women/kids?"

"I'm going to send my husband/wife/kid/friend to you. S/he'll love your touch."

Then there's the moaners and groaners. Stan sure misses hearing moans of pleasure coming from a room where his wife is massaging a naked man. Although usually it just made him laugh.

Yup. I've got me a great profession.

How quickly one can fuck up, without even trying.

Last week I started having lunch with Noah on Thursdays. He has to go to the after school program Thursdays and Fridays so this gives me a chance to see him and break up the monotony of being in the same building for 8 and 1/2 hours a day for the little sprite.

Last week all was rainbows and pink clouds raining hearts and candy. This week they got to the lunchroom early and all was doom, gloom and the seventh circle of a Scooby Doo cartoon where they are convinced that this time the monster is real and they are in mortal peril.

Noah had forgotten I was coming for lunch and had promised to bring pizza. He was in the lunch line, fighting back tears as he thought his mom had forgotten to pack him a lunch. In our world, not so big of a thing, but in the world of a kindergarten boy, it was Armageddon.

When we got to the table he crawled up on my lap and started bawling. He thought he lost his lunch and I would be mad. He also thought maybe I forgot to pack him one and why would I do that? Didn't I love him? Did he do something wrong?

By the end of lunch he was feeling better, but he still was clingy and that endured throughout recess and into their "R & R" time afterwards. I stayed, at his request for "just a little more time mommy . . . please don't leave yet mommy." We did puzzles and he stayed glued to my lap. Finally it was time for me to go and for Noah to join his class for circle time. I got a big hug and kiss and then my boy valiantly joined the others for four more hours at school.

You try and you try, but the best intentions can still make your kid cry.

Lisa Keathly: Massage Therapist

The new job is going well (so far).

I am super busy. This means lots of clients, money and sore muscles in about that order.

Being away from home so much is hard and Noah is not taking to the long days at school and Rec Plus very well. I hope once he gets used to it all will go smoothly.

I am off to shower and dress up for work. Yes, I actually wear something besides jeans now!

More on the job soon (but not too much, this is a public forum after all).

I did nothing and it was everything I thought it would be.

Today I celebrated my last official day of unemployment.

I got Noah ready for school, packed his lunch and dropped him off for the day.

Then I came home, let the dog out and went back to bed for four glorious wonderful hours.

After that I had lunch, watched TV, changed clothes and walked up to school to pick Noah up. Following our homecoming I visited with neighbors and enjoyed the beautiful weather.

Now I will make dinner, go to yoga and spend the night with my guys.

Today, I rested for tomorrow I work.

My next tattoo.

I have decided to get a tattoo of a bluebird to represent my Grandpa, who was very special to me.

He called his 1998 Oldsmobile Delta "the blue bird" and babied that big blue boat. Despite his love for that machine, he still allowed my older sister and I to learn to drive in it. I remember the car always smelled like him and he called Oldsmobiles "Osmobiles."

Here's some ideas:

I like the branches and berries on this one. It has a watercolor vibe, which is cool. The bird just needs more blue.

Maybe I should get one in flight? This one looks like it's about to run into barbed wire though.

I like the coloring of this one.

I like this one because the bird is sitting on a barbed wire fence, which reminds me of my Grandpa's farm. My grandpa loved watching the sun set so maybe the bird could be chilling on the wire, watching the sun set.

Ideas? Comments?

Noah's first day of kindergarten a.k.a. Please pass the tissues.

The boy loves to pose.

The boy also loves his new skull backpack.

He has his lunch and is ready for school!

Or a modeling career.

It's so easy it is to induce a full blown panic attack. Who knew!?!

Tonight was going to be all about getting Noah ready for school. Packing his bag, picking out his lunch items, deciding on a outfit, etc.

Instead we ended up at the stupid neighbor's house for an impromptu birthday party for their 6 year old.

We got back at bedtime and now I need to get Noah's things together, study for my massage licensing exam (which is at 10:30 AM tomorrow morning) and get a decent night's sleep.

Fuck that shit. Part one is done. Now I'm opening me a bottle of wine.

Good night, sweet in-home business, good-bye.

I have one appointment scheduled for this Saturday. After that, I am officially closing Keathly Massage.

I will be sending postcards out to my clients to let them know of the change. It will be sad for them, but I am nothing but excited. I start my new job next week doing massage at a salon/spa. They are reliably busy, so I will have a stable income. I will also have benefits.

I will be $90 vs. the $45 I was charging at home. If you don't mind paying the difference, great!

If you do mind, e-mail me and I will give you recommendations for a new therapist.

I take the St. Paul massage therapist licensing test on Thursday. I start working on Wednesday. Noah starts school tomorrow. Life is certainly changing, for good.

The Great MN Get Together

Sunday we went to the fair (last Sunday that is) and a great time was had by all. We have learned from experience, and Jesse would have been not only proud, but not annoyed in the slightest by our ways of partaking in the Fair experience.

FIRST LESSON: Use a park and ride close to home, not close to the Fair. Last year we had the unfortunate experience of thinking we were parking at a Park and Ride when actually we had joined up with some Saint's game fans. Then we went to three Park and Rides before finding one that wasn't full.

This year we parked near Broadway and Industrial Blvd. Not even 10 minutes later we were on a bus and shortly thereafter, at the Fair. It was smooth, like buttah.

Noah hanging at the Park and Ride in style, waiting for the bus.

We met up with friends right away and headed for the food building. We started with fries, gyros and cheese curds. All the Fair favorites were consumed that day, including cotton candy:

Noah, yet again in the stroller, getting a sugar rush. Note Daddy on the bench and the inflatable Scooby Doo we bought for him riding on top of the stroller.

Yes, that's right, we are on to LESSON NUMBER TWO: Have a Fair Agenda. Not only did we have an agenda, but we had a map (I can never get my bearings at the Fair or remember where things are). So we had a plan, and a route. This way we saw what we wanted to without all that nasty backtracking.

Besides the regular Fair merriment, Noah got to play with Avery, who he hadn't seen in awhile and missed very much. Outside of the DNR Building they got to run and chase each other around while we rested our tired old legs.

"I'm gonna get you!"

Then they proceeded to tie each other up in a very innocent, non-kinky fashion.

"Now that I have you, I will tie you up and keep you forever!"

The end of our Fair journey was flown solo. B felt ill, Wenda needed to get little Avery home early and Craig and Terrie voted for the Horticulture building over the Kidway. Noah went on a couple of rides and then asked me to ride with him on the Ferris Wheel and a scary looking ride called The Tugboat. Picture a scene from The Perfect Storm and you'll get the idea. It wasn't as bad as it looked though and Noah now has ammunition to use against me, "Ha, ha! You were scared!" He also asked for a picture next to a pirate ride.

"Grr! I'm a pirate!"

"No, really, it's just me, Noah!'

Seven hours and $100 later we went home. It's different going to the Fair now that we have to split our time between what Noah wants to do and what we want to do, but it was still fun. I didn't get to see all of the exhibits I wanted too, but I'll be damned if I spend more than one day a year at the Fair. After all, I have to start on my agenda for next year.

Paranoid Parent

Noah is starting school and I want to get him a watch with GPS. Does this make me overprotective? Crazy?

I don't want to get him a phone with GPS, although that would be the cheapest option. Phones aren't allowed in school so he wouldn't be able to carry it around on his waist or in his pocket.

That leaves me with a watch or something else that attaches to Noah. Like the Chitter Chatter Phone from Hop-On. Unfortunately, it's not released yet. They are telling the public that it will only cost $50. You can call the watch anytime to get a GPS reading on where your kid is. They can also push the star button to alert you to a change in their location, or push one of the other picture buttons to call home, mom, dad or 911. I don't know if it would be allowed in school, it is a phone after all, but it doesn't have a ringer and he could hide it under long sleeves.

The chitter chatter phone which I would not oder in pink.

But, as I said, it's not available yet and who knows when or if it will be. That sucks, because it is cheaper than watches with only GPS, like the Wherify Watch at $179:


You actually lock this on your child's wrist. If someone tries to pry it off, it emits a LOUD alarm. There is also a panic button that calls 911 with the child's location. The monthly fee ranges from $20 - $45. It also gets pages, which is an option I'm not really interested in.

Other GPS watches that look like a normal watch start at $400.

Sigh. I don't know if I can realistically make this happen, unless I find a really good deal. I honestly don't know why this technology is so expensive. You can get a phone with GPS in it for $50. Why is plain old GPS four times that much?

If any technogeeks out there have other ideas, please let me know.

Rockin the playground.

Because image is everything, especially in kindergarten, I bought Noah this:

Skurvy Pirate Backpack from Small Paul.

Tell me he will not be the coolest kindergartener at Waite Park Elementary. I dare you.

Silly Keathly Boys

Noah's goatee is the awesome.

This is what Stan will look like when he's old.

The boy came home from a day at Como Zoo with Grandma transformed into a tiger. Grr!!!!

The coolest craft sale fundraiser in MPLS organized by Crafty Planet

Let's all go, shall we? A drink at Grumpy's and fabulous crafts to buy? I say AWESOME.

If you have something to contribute (pictures maybe, Jesse and Sarah?) that would be rockin' cool as well. I'm going to crochet up a baby sweater, hat and bootie set for the event. I'm couch-ridden anyhow, so I might as well make the most of it.

Here's the info:

The 35W bridge collapse has affected us all, personally and as a community. Although most of us can't do much to build the bridge back up, we can do something to support the families of those injured or lost.

In response to this tragedy, some of your local crafting friends will be hosting--

A Stitch In Time Saves Craft Sale

Grumpy's Downtown
1111 Washington Ave S.
September 6, 2007
6:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.

We hope you will be able to join us!

In case you're asking... How Can I Help?

(1) Are you a crafter or an artist? Do you know someone who is? Craft like crazy (make them craft like crazy) and drop off/send your donations to:

Crafty Planet
2318 Lowry Avenue NE Minneapolis, MN 55418

Please have your name/website/contact information along with pricing on your item(s). Donations should be received at Crafty Planet no later than September 1, 2007. (If you're not sure you'll make that deadline, please just give us a heads-up to know something's coming!)

(2) Are you a retailer, gallery, group leader, or part of a crafty community? Please put this notification in your next newsletter or send a special email to your contact list. Spread the word! Also, please consider donating to the show. (Talk to your tax person - you may be able to write it off!)

(3) SHOP, SHOP, SHOP!!! Please join us at Grumpy's Downtown on September 6. Doors will open at 6:00 p.m. for crafty shopping goodness! All proceeds and donations will go to the Minnesota Helps - Bridge Disaster Fund.

Questions? More details? Just want to chat? Drop us a line at AStitchInTimeSaves@gmail.com.

Sick, sick, sick, sick.

Tuesday morning at 7:30 AM I was at my friend's house with Noah, bright tailed and bushy eyed, to babysit her kids for the day.

Ella is 4 and Ben is 2. Ella is my favorite, since she was the only one to wake up clean. Ben, on the other hand, not so much. Kid got the flu in the night and somehow, unbeknown to his parents, vomited, went back to sleep and rolled in it until I finally woke him up at 10:15. The kid is usually up by 9 at the latest, so I knew something was up. I just didn't know it would involve me cleaning up a superfund site.

First I washed the kid from head to toe attacking the cement like goo until he was finally clean. Then I had to strip the entire crib, clean the crib and the floor.

Then came the big D - twice.

By the time his mom was able to check her voice mail and call it was 12:30 and he had just been put down in a clean crib for a nap. I knew he would crash out for a long time, so I let her stay at her training.

Results: Last night Noah vomited three times in the night and is now having a party on the other side.

Karma. She is a true bitch.

Jesse's Kraken

Me. I bought it. He. He gets it.

Monday is bill paying day.

And yes, now that you mention it, there are better things I could be doing with my money.

Say it like it is.

Life changes.

My new job starts October 29th and is full time for almost two months while I'm in training. That means pulling the old 9-5 shift for awhile.

That also means Noah is now going to be in full day kindergarten. I was against it while we had the option of him coming home to me. Now having him in school from 9:10 to 3:25 every day will be a godsend. My late start date give us plenty of time to help Noah settle into his school routine with Momma at the ready if he needs help.

Five years of living on one solid income is over. We may be in debt, but we pulled off raising our kid outside of a daycare. He's more than worth all of the sacrifice.

I GOT THE JOB!!!

Woooo-Hooo!!

Whee!!!

Working through procrastination

This morning Noah and I cuddled up and watched hours of cartoons until he "felt better." I don't think he was really sick. I think he just needed some down time. Either way, it was nice.

I showered and was going to tackle some projects, but did different ones instead. Instead of finding the drill and installing the hook rack in the bathroom I bought months ago, I cleaned out the linen closet. Then we cleaned Noah's room. I realize he needs hangers, so we are off to Target.

When I was a kid, I was the housekeeper and cook. I even did the grocery shopping with the same metal laundry cart I used to bring the clothes to the laundry room in our apartment building. Now a days, I really do like things clean, neat and orderly. But I also want to give taking care of people a big "fuck you!" since my psyche is already overworked from my past job.

More counseling might help. Or a well paying job so I can hire someone to clean for me. That would be elevens.

Happy Birthday Jesse.

One day I will be wealthy enough to buy you this for your birthday - because nothing makes you glad to live another year like bacon.


Mmmmmm . . . . bacon.

Sometimes life is just that way.

Fine, the other ones didn't work, so here's a different comic for ya.

Noah's New School

Again, Noah's new school doesn't have glowing test scores. Minneapolis schools do not test well. They have a difficult population to deal with, but so does Columbia Heights and their test scores are at or near the top of the entire state.

One of the Waite Park parents made a good point about Waite Park vs. the two other local elementary schools. Wilshire has barely any minorities and the ones they do have are not ESL kids (they don't even have an ESL program) and are not from low income homes.

Observe:
Free Lunch Caucasian
Waite Park 56% 56%
Bel Air 42% 65%
Wilshire 14% 81%

So does Wilshire has the top scores because the families are mostly 2 parent, upper middle class white homes? They don't have special needs or ESL programs so their scores may be higher because of that as well. Does that equal a better school?

Here's the nitty gritty test scores (grade 3):
Math Reading
Waite Park 69% 70%
Bel Air 83% 84%
Wilshire 91% 84%

Another thing to ponder about Wilshire: The only kids I know who have gotten accepted into open enrollment have been minorities from good families who value education. Not ESL kids, not inner city kids, not low income kids. So Wilshire focuses on keeping a population that scores well and doesn't have special needs. I know that attracting kids and keeping enrollment high is good business for schools, but the way Wilshire goes about it rubs me the wrong way.

All of the parents of Waite Park students I have talked to love the school. I think Noah will do well there. The question of if he would do even better at Bel Air or Wilshire keeps nagging at me though. Have I done the best I can to get him into the school that will give him what he needs? It's a hard question that I am sure I will keep asking for years to come.

Creepiest crochet pattern ever

Never will I make this, unless I give it to someone as a harbinger of DOOM.

Little things are the cutest

I just crocheted a baby sweater using this pattern in olive green with black trim. It is so fucking adorable I want to make a baby just to have one to put in it. Alas, it is for Jeff and Angie's little bean sprout, so I won't get to put a Keathly nubbin in it, but I will get to see a baby inside it sometime in September.


I think I am going to make this hat in the same green as the sweater and some matching booties. I am tempted to make some monster slippers instead though, or some fashionable UGG look alikes. Just for funzies.

Love is still in the air.

They still love me. The spa director is out of town and won't be back for "several days" but will follow up with me when she gets back.

Wow, the waiting is still killing me. I won't rest easy until I'm filling out those new employee forms.

Updates

A friend of mine, with his 4 kids in the car, saw the bridge collapse in his review mirror. Chills I say, chills.

I just sent a follow up e-mail re. the job. Keep your appendages crossed.

35W Bridge Collapse

God? Buddha? Lucky the Leprechaun? Hells bells, someone or something kept us away from that bridge yesterday.

This shows an overview of the massive, 1,800 foot bridge that fell 70 feet.

Stan usually gets off around 5:30 PM and takes the bridge home. Yesterday he stayed home with a headache.

I was driving straight for the 35W entrance at 5:20 PM. I had planned not to take 35W due to the construction, which shut down the bridge to one lane, but was tempted when I approached the entrance because at this time of year there is construction everywhere. Trying to avoid it is almost impossible. Still, I had checked www.traffic.com and my new route seemed clear, so I took a chance and hit 94 instead.

When I heard the news and saw the pictures (at a client's house between massages) I got the chills, wanted to cry and was in a state of disbelief. This is as close to home a tragedy has ever been.

Kare11 has a video of the collapse caught on a security camera.

I'm just happy everyone I know is okay.

Listen to the sounds, of silence.

Friday will be two weeks since my technical interview. You know, the one where the person LOVED me and gave me nothing but kudos. The one where everyone so far said they loved me complete with exclamation points.

And all I have heard since has been the chirping of crickets and the screaming of children.

I am thinking of e-mailing the human resources contact tomorrow, just not sure what to say.

Dear XXXX,

Do you still love me and want to hire me? Because I, personally, am still smitten.

Hoping the answer is "yes!'

Lisa

Happy Wedding Anniversary to me and Stan!

Today is our eight year wedding anniversary. That means a gift of Bronze/Pottery (traditional list) or Linens/Lace (from the modern list). Really people, two lists? Are people really buying this? If so, which list should be used? What if we choose the wrong one? The horror!!!


Anyhow, we skipped the presents all together and ran away for 24 hours instead to the beautifully appointed Wildwood Lodge in Lake Elmo. We booked the King whirlpool suite. It was heavenly.

We ate dinner at the Dock Cafe in Stillwater. We didn't eat outside, but sat windowside so we could appreciate both the view and the air conditioning. We started out with drinks and ceviche, which was so yummy I could have eaten the whole plate myself. I had excellent herb seared scallops and Stan loved his honey soy glazed salmon. I would go back there for dinner in a heartbeat.

Jesse and Sarah took our parental place with Noah and lived in our shoes while we were gone. Noah had a great time and Sarah is threatening Jesse's position as the perennial favorite. Sunday we took them out for brunch before they were free to live their life, once again kid free.

It was a good weekend.

Harry Potter - Deathly Hallows - Book 7 - MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!

On Friday night I went to see the spectacle of Harry Potter Fans at the Roseville Barnes & Noble. The "party" they threw was lame, but the people watching, whew, boy, that was priceless. There were a lot of good costumes. Unfortunately, I didn't get good pictures of them, but I did get pictures of the ladies I went with.

The ladies. only one of them bought a book after spending 3 1/2 hours of waiting.

It was definitely a night for teenagers. The geeks were flaunting their Harry Potter love in all it's glory and the "cool kids" wore perfect Harry Potter costumes while their girlfriends wore slutty outfits with black Hogwart's robes open to show off their young, nubile flesh. My favorite couple was the gay one that practically mounted each other while waiting in line. I guess if Harry Potter was gay and cloned, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of himself.

My favorite Harry Potter of all time though? Stan.

Stan models glow in the dark Harry Potter glasses.

I finished the book before putting Noah to bed on Sunday night. Unlike the last movie, it wasn't a disappointment. It had the good old happy ending that I expected, with a little real life (death) mixed in. Harry is killed but can choose to come back, and does. Who says this book is anti-religion!?! It's a total C.S. Lewis resurrection moment! Then he kills Voldemort after a cocky dialog, where he calls him "Riddle" and which I enjoyed. Give me 2 - 3 years and I will look forward to re-reading the entire series again.

The sweet, sweet smell of success (I hope!)

I finished my second interview yesterday morning. Monday I had a group interview and received an e-mail reply that they "loved me!" complete with exclamation point.

Friday morning I gave a technical interview where I gave a full body 60 minute massage (in 75 minutes). The woman echoed loving sentiments, complimented me on my muscle work and interpersonal skills and unofficially told me I should be getting an official offer.

Next step: the final interview. I am waiting to hear from either the spa director or the head of human resources to set this up.

I am excited to work somewhere that provides education opportunities as well as a lovely smelling place to work in. I'm not sure how this will effect my current clientèle yet, but someday hope to only be working out of the spa. My massage career seems to be picking up steam and I am happy.

Oh no, she didn't!

I had a group interview at XXXX last night. We had to stand in front of 2 employees and 16 other interviewees and answer some questions. One was "what 3 words describe you?" One girl got up and said that she was very loving. Then she lost it. You could see her little brain clicking into overtime, but she simply could not think of a way to elaborate on the spot, without, as you will read, totally humiliating herself. She said, "I love very. . . . . hard. I'm a VERY HARD LOVER."

Oh. My. God. In. Heaven. I'm surprised she didn't bold right then and there. I thought it was hilarious, but it seemed that no one else in the room was having the internal struggle I was to keep it together. I guess the rest of them were just cool like that.

Jesse took some pictures of us.

Stan was a goof ball.

"If only it was plugged in."

"Toyota!"

I was sneery.

"Damn kid and his damn toys."

All for the sake of thirty dollars.

I used to think that pet grooming was expensive.

Dodi 3/4 of the way through grooming.

Now I am astounded, astounded I say, that a mere $30 would get someone else to wash my dog, cut her hair and nails and brush her teeth.

Note the perfectly even shave job on her torso! If only you could see it in person, when the thin spots really pop!

The directions looked easy, the DVD demonstration was a breeze, but the (halfway) finished product shows my lack of experience with both a scissors and a razor.

What did you do to me?

I still need to finish her feet and legs, but will need an assistant for that part. I'm not happy with the cut, but am thrilled that I didn't cut her or leave a bald spot. I'm going to try and refine, I mean, learn some skills for this job. If I can't cut it (bad pun, couldn't resist) I'll take her back to the grooming salon with my figurative tail between my legs. I'm not ready to give up quite yet, but am more than happy to accept help and or tips.