Life Interrupted by a Bowl of Ceviche'

I sit here today wishing to write something profound and exhilarating, but I can't. Not today at least. It is because of what was suppose to be a rare, but celebrated date night on Saturday night, has now turned into a two-day ordeal that leaves me feeling like I'd would have rather bungee jumped off the Empire State Building naked in front of a million gawking eyeballs instead of this.

Date nights between parents are suppose to be a thing of joy and relief since we parents are basically attempting to flee from our kids for a night of coherent conversation and activities that don't included doodling on paper table cloths or breaking up senseless arguments about gum or whose shoelaces are tied better. All while trying not wreck the car while constantly looking in the rearview mirror at your kids smacking one another in the process and yelling "Don't make me come back there!"; which we never do cause we're too busy DRIVING THE CAR!

Saturday night was just that attempt.

All was well until we got home and about 2 am, I am abruptly awoken with searing stomach cramps and an intense urge to pray at the porcelain god in my bathroom. This is where my head stayed firmly planted until sometime Sunday afternoon. The measurement of time is completely useless during one of these moments.

It seems there were little entities in my stomach that kept analyzing the contents and deciding that this could stay (meaning the lining), and this had to go (everything else BUT the lining). The protective guardians of my gullet spent the whole stinking night and morning thrusting out, like unwanted roomates, every imaginable piece of food and drink I had consumed the night before in order to save the bottom half of my body the same sufferage my upper half was going through.

"Thank you so much for your consideration regarding my various body parts, but don't you think you guys can thrust this shit out just a little gentler in future next time?"

After the guardians were through cleaning up the damage left behind from what was most likely the "undercooked" Ceviche' at a local corporate fish "grill", then it was time for the headache to set in that had the husband serving up various herbs like an open sushi bar, and me calling the bottle of Advil my bestfriend.

I cannot believe I just made reference to food.

First of all, I should have known better than to eat Ceviche' made from any restaurant.

If you're not at all familiar with Ceviche', it is fish "cooked" in lime juice only. Well, I usually make mine with Red Snapper and cook it for 24 hours in the fridge, but this one was made with Bay Scallops and shrimp and they must have done the quickie version of cooking on this plate - say about four hours before we arrived!

Seeing it made with shrimp and scallops should have been the first clue not to eat, but I was living off of one bowl of Mediterranean cous-cous for the whole day, so hungry replaced common sense instead. So when I bit into that one bite that seemed a little "soft", my alarms bells were muffled by miniature pillows in my head, by the need to devour everything edible on the table in front of me: warm bread with olive oil and fresh ground black pepper, Pellegrino water with lime, and mounds of Ceviche' with warm tortilla chips.

I was not having to compete with kids for ample bites of the stuff; just my husband who managed to give up on it because he kept spilling the juice all over himself and the table. This just meant more for me!

This is one time I will repeatedly flog myself for being such a pig!

So today I am left with the residual affects of food poisoning; not one single ability to do anything but be a couch potato surrounded by kids who last wish in the world is to be a servant to a sick mom who constantly has to change the channel on the TV when a food commercial comes on.

I can't lay here like this; I have cabinets to sand, doors to paint, backsplashes and hardware to pick and order. This cannot interrupt my life today! But it is and there is nothing I can do about it but wait the long and agonizing moment out.

"It has to run it's course.", my husband tries to comfort me by saying.

I feel the strong urge to reach up and pop him one in the head, but the need to maintain composure in front of my kids is stronger.

Must have a sense class between pukes!

Then my oldest daughter's comment not too long ago was: "So mom, I guess you won't be doing any date nights without us any time soon, will ya?"

"Uh, no Nadia...... I didn't barf THAT hard!"

Legends and Latex

The Passing of Legends

Sometimes age is not measured by the wrinkles the suddenly show upon your face, or the extra weight around your girth that seems to accumulates as the years go by. Age, sometimes, is not even gaged by how fast your children grow.

Sometimes what makes you realized how the years have by is the passing of legends.

This being Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and now, Michael Jackson.

For most of us we saw it coming with Ed McMahon. He has led a full and rich life for many, many years. He was a cultural icon born and raised in the era of our parents and grandparents. He would forever be linked with Johnny Carson and the Tonight Show just as most of us remembered him.

Most of my generation probably know him from the Publisher's Clearinghouse giveaways, or the "TV Bloopers" series with Dick Clark. When his death arrived only a few short days ago, it was unexpected, yet expected at the same time.

With Farrah Fawcett, most of us saw it coming after her documentary was released a short time ago. I remember her hair from the Charlie's Angels days, as she was a cultural icon of my generation. Who doesn't remember "that" poster. We watched her rise in the industry, fall briefly, raise a family, then go on to do some of her best work with "The Burning Bed".

I had always been moved by her admission about how that production had affected her so deeply. I had seen the movie and was finally very impressed with the depth of her performance. She had finally come into her own on her terms to define the type of thespian she would be remembered for. To me, all personal issues after that paled in comparison to the professional actress she had finally become.

Even her final months, she showed that same grace, strength, and determination to do things on her own terms as she did with her career.

Michael Jackson's death was a bomb out of left field. No one could have remotely predicted anything like this coming, except for those in his close inner circle. Only time will tell if we will really know what was going on as we all got use to his ever reclusive and eccentric lifestyle. We will leave that to the experts as we find out more in the coming weeks.

When I think of Michael Jackson, I have to think back to the latter part of the 80's when I was dating a guy named Robin Cutshall. Robin had a roommate named Mike Anderson, who idolized MJ completely. Mike was strikingly handsome; with blonde hair resembling Jackson's coif at the time. He wasn't geeky or weird due to his Jackson idolization, because he could pretty much have any girl he wanted.

Though Mike's dress was on par with the King of Pop, he never pushed it over the edge in order to make himself overtly noticeable in the sense. But singing Michael Jackson's songs was different story. I remember times of walking into the house with Robin and you could hear Mike in the back of the house with his microphone hooked to a speaker singing "She's Out Of My Life", so sincere and with so much heart. Unfortunately, when caught by us, he quickly turned a few shades of red, and embarrassment replaced a passionate karaoke session in a flash.

Robin and I parted ways due to issues in his life and I never saw Mike again after he married. But all through the years, whenever I heard anything about Michael Jackson, my thoughts always turned to Mike and wondered "what did he think of the situation?". When Jackson went through the past 15 years defending himself in court and public eye against molestation allegations, I often wondered what Mike Anderson thought and if his feelings ever wavered towards his idol.

I won't remember Michael Jackson for the many mistakes, faux pas, and blunders he made in the past two decades, but instead for the incredible talent and music he left us all that forever changed music and the way we look and listen to it. There will never be another one like him, just like there will never be another band like the Beatles, or another Elvis.

To all of them I say good-bye, God Bless, and thank you for sharing your best with us all.

Still remodeling the kitchen

The kitchen is still in remodeling chaos. My many thanks to the universe for navigating me towards Liza Lee Miller's blog as she gave such inspiration on what to do with the backsplash behind my stove and my sink.

THIS IS THE IDEA FOR BEHIND THE STOVE

OR THIS BEHIND THE STOVE

????????

The one wall by the refrigerator was such a pain in the ass as it had to be sanded down quite a bit to remove decades of ca-ca and varnish in order to have any speck of paint adhere to the surface of it. It took almost six coats of primer and paint to get the shit covered! Let's not forget about all the caulking I had to do to seal up holes in which various Floridian-based bugs attempt to find food and shelter by sneaking in while I sleep.

I am literally covered with paint and caulk and I'm thinking that if I mess enough sweatpants by doing this, I could start a new fashion trend this fall. But don't ask my how or why Nia has paint all in her hair as she never even lifted a paintbrush. It must be that hit and run ability she has. Flash Gordon has nothing on this child!

I did find that I used the wrong sandpaper on two of the cabinets that nearly left them in splinters when I was done.

Oops!

Luckily, we went back over with finer sandpaper and fixed that problem up in a jiffy. They are currently drying from the 3 coats I applied this morning. Oh, and especially love the skunk look I'm sporting today as I took a moment to apply half the gallon on my roller and paint both the underside of the cabinet and my hair at the same time.

Since I'm sans shower today with a white streak in my hair - can anyone say Pepe Le Pew?

It seems though, that the rest of the cabinets "are aware" of the remodeling going on as various pieces of hardware on the cabinets doors have been randomly falling off suddenly.

We WILL have to replace it all now.

So I'm off to Home Depot this evening for mine and my husbands date night in order to match up, pick out, fight over, which hardware will go the best.

I'm going for metro modern - he's going for dirt cheap.

Looks like this could be a short date night tonight.

Did I mention that the 1960's lights under the cabinets need to be replaced as well? I didn't! Well, they gotta go too. They are just as hideous as the rest of the kitchen. I was thinking about selling them on Craigslist after I replace them with some savvy LED's, but then again, who would buy these things except an antique dealer who might get a good laugh out of them.

So I have to pick out LED lights as well as cabinetry hardware tonight to go under the sink cabinet and the counter cabinets.

This will be a short date night.

BTW - does turpentine remove hair from the scalp?

It's So Hot, I'm Gonna Fry Breakfast On The Front Porch!

Every year I can't wait for the summer.  But every year, I am so in denial about how hot it gets around here.  When living at the beach, just because you have the ocean close by, you think it just doesn't get as hot as...... HELL!  But it does - sea breeze, or no sea breeze.  Every year I get proven wrong; especially when I have to hose the kids down because they start emitting smoke from their bodies from playing outside too long.

SCORCH, SCORCH, SIZZLE, SIZZLE!

Put it this way, you know it's hot when your usual I have to roam the whole neighborhood because I am still walking ball of fertilizer cat won't even step foot towards the door to go outside because of the blast of hotter-than-Hades air singes his little brown nose if he even makes an attempt to do so.  He has preferred to either lay half on, half off the sofa in a semi-coma for the entire day, or stroll around looking for various objects to destroy and call it playtime for himself.

My air conditioner has been going non-stop for four days now and I go into a half-panic mode after the local news reports last night that air conditioners all over the place are failing from trying to cool our Southern sweaty asses to death.  My overactive imagination starts thinking that ours is going to blow at any moment, and I'll have to resort to hanging bags of ice under each fan while the whole family wanders naked throughout the house to keep cool.

Eewww!  What a completely disgusting vision.

Regardless of the death defying heat, today my son and I decided to mow the lawn together since if only one of us did, then that one would have been passed out in the grass from heat stroke/exhaustion after about five minutes of mowing at 7 a.m.  Most of the time I relish the idea of sweating like pig before slaughter as I look at it as an opportunity to "wash" myself of fat cells that have turned into squatters on my thighs.  Julian looks at it as an opportunity to score more minutes/hours on Xbox 360 without parental retaliation. 

But today is different.... today, our home has been transported into hell and the brown-tipped remains of what was once called grass in our yard, has to be mowed down so that hell's sun can burn off what's left of our so-called yard.  I love the sound of the crunch it makes under my feet, and the feeling of a thousand needles being shoved into my tender skin.  The blood tracks I leave behind go so well with the brown and green pallet at my toes.

Now I've become a bit obsessive about watering the lawn lately.  Let's just say I was outside last night watering with my two newfangled garden hose attachments that have an abundant 25 ways to apply water to your garden/lawn, until about 9:00 pm.

"Why am I not using our automatic water sprinkler?", you ask.

Because I have a call-in to fix it cause it went completely haywire the other night and refused to shut off.  I had possessed sprinklers watering the windows, the other side of the fence, and the other neighbors yard.  It was like poltergeists had taken over my pop-up sprinklers and they were watering everything but the half-dead shit on the lawn.

I was completely soaked when I came screaming..... yes, I was screaming, into the house.

"KUUUUUURRRRRTTTT!!!!   The sprinklers won't shut off and their going nuts outside!", I'm yelling as you hear a fwwwwaaappp, fwwwaaappp, fwwwaaappp, on the front door from the water smacking as it flies around and around in hapless circles.  Water is now coming in under the front door.

So much for the fucking door sealers.  Now the hardwood is gonna warp and mold.  Great!  But hey, at least I got my shower over for the evening, and my clothes laundered to boot!

So now I've been temporarily reduced to a garden hose with various attachments to water a yard that most would give up on this far in the season, but I'm too stubborn to think about.  I want soft cushy stuff under my kids toes like my neighbors yard.  But then again, they have that soft bermuda stuff and some idiot planted cheap centipede grass on my side that grows like a weed but has literally NO redeeming qualities whatsoever except to make the lawn look..... like a cheap lawn.

So the near dead grass has to be mowed down to make room for more dead grass that I have to tend to like sick babies needing a surrogate mother to nurture them back to health.  I did it with my herbs - I will do it with a lawn full of crappy looking grass.

Julian and I take turns mowing rows while sucking ice water down like desert rats in a drought.  We're both wearing so much sunscreen that it feels like someone has placed a thin layer of plastic over my skin.  UV's out - heat in!  Can't they make that stuff breathable at least?  Plus, I am sporting the most reflective color of titanium white in my clothes that I need two sets of sunglasses just to rid myself of the blinding glare when I look down at my shorts.  Julian can't even look at me at all with screams of blinding pain as he covers his eyes and shouts "Don't go into the light!"

The suffering we Southerns go through just to have a lush lawn.  It's is no wonder we are the butt of so many jokes in Hollywood.  Add this one to the list!

"Hey Homer - We ain't got nuttin to eat or drink, but damn we have a fine looking lawn now don't we.  Did you make sure you put that extra bug-killin, weed-eliminatin, rock-crushin, ant-explodin, FDA, AMA, USDA approved herbicide, pesticide, cyanide grass fertilizer on it so that we'll have the greeenist lawn in the whole su-bur-ban-ITE neighborhood?  By the way Homer, did you make sure you mowed it so we can see them puuurty diamond patterns when we drive by our yard in our ATV's?"

Please God, strike me dead if I ever get that desperate with my lawn!

We managed to mow it, but it got so stinking hot that I still haven't gotten to the waist high weeds and overgrown blackberry vines that have invaded my front entry way.

I tried weeding last night after the sun started going down because it was just too hot to do it while there was any light showing at all.  I got a whole five minutes worth of weeding accomplished.  I have no idea what the hell I pulled up because it got so dark so quickly.  I do know I got a few blackberry vines as I am still trying to pull the flea-sized thorns out today, and I have track marks of blood in various directions across my legs from the things ripping across my skin as I pulled them out of the ground. What a pretty accessory to have with my summer dresses.

So tomorrow, I will try to rise before the birds even attempt to wake and my skin begins to fry in the 100+ degree weather in order to remove uninvited weeds and out of control fruit bushes in the front garden.  The lawn is mowed, but these weeds are still taunting me - laughing at me - visiting me in my dreams and daring me to even try to pull their shallow and obnoxious roots from my entry way.  

I will don steel-lined gardening gloves, take my cup of coffee and then simply crack my eggs and bacon on the front concrete porch sans frying pan, and cook my breakfast when the sun rises upon it. I will weed till the heat initially begins to bake the hair off my head through my canvas hat.

I'll get about 10 minutes worth of weeding done before I'll have to run into the house and close myself up in the freezer for the day.  Unfortunately, I will have to fight five other people for the spot.

Then I will hire Homer and his friend to finish where I left off.

Well So Much For NOT Getting Political

I didn't originally tend to use my blog as a forum for political issues, but one has taken place that I just can't freaking ignore these days:

The protests in Iran

I have been following these events over the past few days on the major networks, and now via Twitter.  I am simply amazed!  I am moved to tears at times.  I am cheering from my TV and computer at the same time.

As I watch, I am reflecting back quite often to when the Presidential campaign was in full swing.  Some of you may remember John McCain with his camp singing their "Bomb, bomb, bomb...... Bomb, bomb Iran..." mantra to the tune of "Barbaranne" by the Beach Boys.

I can't help but think that these hundred's of thousands of people protesting that their votes be heard are a great part of the Iranian collective that he encouraged the bombing of during his campaign just a short time ago.

I wonder what he thinks about it now, Hmmmm........

I, for one, had hopes that Iran would turn itself around.  Before seeing these protests, I was too quick to judge a country based on it's current "leader", Ahmadinegad.  Please DO NOT ask me to pronounce his name as I am going into that age where one tends to drool on oneself when pronouncing large words or long, rambling sentences.  Saying his name may initiate a flood of spit from my mouth that could short out my iMac.

So well just call him President "Shithead" instead.  That's easy enough to say and UNDERSTAND.

What I have observed over the past few days has led ME to believe that what WE were lead to believe about the people in Iran before this, are not the people we have been actually seeing or hearing from.  These are not the people that are secretly making nukes behind closed doors.  I see way too may peace signs in those crowds.  

It seems that all we've been seeing are overloaded press op's by President Shithead for the past few years.  The speech he made at Columbia University back in 2007 is so laughable it's hard to believe anyone took him seriously.  Schizophrenia comes to mind here when thinking back to that delusional time in history.

It is very clear to see now that he does NOT speak for the country of Iran.

See, President Shithead is just a short guy compensating for his size.  I bet the sucker has to stand on two vegetable crates just to get that squirrely little Mickey Mouse head of his to reach the edge mike.  He's the kinda short guy that uses ego and attitude to make up for the size he lacks (you can take that ANY WAY you want to here).

I bet his biggest issue is that he was never breastfed either.  He was probably given some of that Chinese made formula that was recalled long after it did some serious desert storm action of it's won on his brain.

Also, WHAT is with that haircut of his?  Didn't we last see that hair style on Al Bundy in the 80's show "Married With Children"?  

And what is up with that facial hair?  Has anyone heard of Nair in his administration?  Hey, I would just love to give him the same wax treatment on his face that I recently gave myself here. Now that would be a demonstration of "shock and awe".

He does seem to be a hairy little midget, doesn't he?

This is why President Shithead wants to keep his current position in Iran.  Where else is the little hairy tirade gonna get a job?  Would you want a recount if it meant the possibility of you getting your legs surgically stretched in order for people to see you over the height of, let's say..... a bush! 

Oops!  That was a subconscious slip if I've ever had one!

But that's not really my point.  I'm proud of this sect of Iranians who have chosen to stand up and fight for their votes and to have voices  be heard in lieu of being imprisoned or assassinated - or both - by the current government regime.  

When was the last time we ever did that in this country?

The Revolutionary War comes to mind.  Or maybe the Vietnam protests of the sixties.  Oh geez, my dad is gonna kill me for that comparison.

Okay, okay.... I'm getting WAY too political here.

The fact that the Iranian military is loading the dead bodies from the protests in trucks and carting them off without even informing the next of kin, is just a testament to what is going on over there.   This is according to a blog by an eye witnessed account from a medical student there (thank you to inicotone.com for this).

The fact that there is 13 year old child, who was killed during gunfire and carted off in a military truck, whose family will NEVER know what happened to him or where he is.  His mother and his father will never get the chance to see, or mourn their now dead son.

The fact that a hospital, after protesting themselves because of the unjust treatments of both the living and dead being brought in, was shut down by the military and the entire staff was imprisoned inside.

The fact that the current Iranian regime is methodically gathering names from twitter accounts tweeting out of Iran and hunting them down for arrest, as they continue twittering regardless, shows us the passion of a nation whom we have not set eyes on since all this mess between our governments started.  

Where have these people been, and why is it only now that their voices are being heard?

Why are we just now seeing the true faces of Iran?

It is inspirational to see the whole world rally around a country that most of us here in America were beginning to feel as if they were returning to the barbaric days of the early 80's when the hostage situation happened.

I'm sure a few of you still remember how crappy that was.

Would it get so bad that the government under President Shithead's watch would start taking hostages themselves, or worse yet, threaten to nuke the crap out of several choice countries; ours and Israel being at the top of their lists?  I think we have heard a resounding NO from hundreds of thousands of thirsty, worn out, yet passionate patriots of Iran who prefer a more peaceful and humane resolution to differences between cultures.

I say, GOOD FOR THEM.  Let's support them in their efforts.  This is one time our government didn't shove the  ideology of democracy down their throats.  It seems that they have hungered so long for it that they are begging, screaming, protesting, and rioting in the streets for it.  It was not forced upon them; it was by their choice that they decided they wanted it.  That is what a part of being free is about.

Let their voices ring through Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, My Space, and anywhere else they can yell it from.  Let us hear them and support them regardless of the outcome.

I REPEAT THEIR CRIES OF:  "NO MORE PRESIDENT SHITHEAD!!!"

And I say: