Caffeine Withdrawl/Civilization Withdrawl

Here is an article about a remote Brazilian tribe recently discovered. Face painted and ready to fight, these indigenous people are aiming at the planes with their weapons to ward off evil. Or perhaps nosiness. Kind of like George Clooney with the paparazzi.

I feel this weird fascination and repulsion by this discovery, as reported by the BBC. On one hand, how intriguing it is to know that people actually do exist without cell phones! And computers! And supermarkets!

At the same time, how annoying that they are being disturbed.

Regarding my Diet Coke abstinence, I can only emphathize with the dude in red, shaking his stick at the shiny metal object above him. "You are a threat. You are mean. You are ruining my peace. Go away!"

On civilization notes, it leads me to wonder what would happen if Rex ever gave up his love for the computer game, Civilization? How would he ever express his emotions?

And on withdrawl notes, which also refer to Rex, what if he had practiced that method with our love life. How would we ever have our beautiful children? How would he ever express his emotions?

Life is complicated. Perhaps that poor tribe is better off in isolation. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Take it easy and happy weekend!

* Picture from the BBC link above

5 days without Diet Coke. But I still drink 4 cups of coffee/day. Baby steps.

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Giving up the coke, man

So, for the millionth time, I am attempting to give up Diet Coke. In the process of going through withdrawls, I've lost my purse (just found it), forgot my jewelry, crashed each night by 10 but have woken up at 2am only to lie in bed for two hours straight.

I'm thinking I'm a bit addicted.

And that's just dumb.

How are you all? Giving anything up these days in efforts to get healthy?

At a Loss for Words

Since I've had kids, I've lost cell phones more times than Oprah's lost weight. In fact, Oprah has been way more successful than I've been.

Once it fell off the top of the car on the freeway.

Once I dropped it in a toilet at a San Francisco airport.

Once I washed it.

Once I dried it.

Sadly, the last two fates are more than I do with my hair most days.

Being the computer stud that he is, Rex has always been able to replace them via Ebay. Sometimes the ringers don't work. Sometimes they won't take messages. Other times they sound like the inside of the Staten Island Ferry at rush hour. (Not that I've ever been inside the Staten Island Ferry, but I can only imagine noise, seasickness, and my crappy cell phone coverage as one horrible combination.)

I was pretty proud of a two month, no injury record. Until yesterday when my lucky streak ended. I couldn't find my phone. Bad.

But I called the market, and they said one was turned in at the exact time I lost it! Yeah!

So I figured I'd do dishes before the grand cell phone reunion so when Rex came home for his big reunion with the family it didn't smell like a Tuscon truck stop.

I turned on the disposal - recently fixed - and hear a clunk clunk cluuuuuunk.

Can you guess what was in there? I'll give you three guesses. If you get it right - you win a mangled cell phone!

PS: Thank you all for your well wishes on the Terminator gig. I have heard nothing. NOTHING. I really didn't expect to. This is about the 10th time location managers have photographed our home, and then they never call. My poor house - it's going to be so rejected once again. (Hey, maybe that's why the disposal ate my cell phone.)

Studying for my mid Term...inator

True email written to Rex today, right before the kids and I crashed out for a late nap.

" Hi babe. A location scout from The Terminator just came by and took pictures of the house. They are interested in using us for filming. It would be a six month gig – Sarah and her son’s new home. It would pay (insert ridiculous amount where we'll probably sign our lives away but if we could actually replace the laminate from the photo, and maybe our 1974 toilets, it'd be worth it.)

They like our casa because it is “very Americana” and “non-descript.” “Clean” but a place where “terminators could hide in peace.”

We've had location managers here before, but never has a Terminator crew come to the home of an actual living Terminator - my little robotic Rex. He would be stoked. I'll keep you posted. But probably not in detail. If we get the gig, I'm sure we'll be signing away all rights to speak or we will be detonated.

How's everyone's Monday?

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

More Rumblings from Me

I know I just posted about the beach below. And not to get out of a lovely, carefree mood, but the fact is that 50,000 people have lost their lives in China. In other parts of the world, Tsunamis have wiped out entire villages. Poverty and war ravage other countries, while in other places young girls are being taken by their mothers, raped and killed.

I know how damn lucky I am. And without sounding too pious, I thank God every day for what I have. Why I'm so lucky, I just don't know.

Hope all of you are safe. That your families are safe. And for those of you with family and friends in the military, a big hearty thanks goes out to you for keeping my kids free from want.

It's Hard to be a Beach...

....With days like today. Just look at this beautiful sky! The weather was glorious. The sun was setting while my kids joyously dug tunnels in the sand. There was no fighting. No screaming. If there was, I couldn't hear it over the crash of the waves anyway.

With Rex out of town, Topanga T and her fiance' joined us last minute (just three weeks before the big Italian wedding). They brought their puppies - endless sources of amusement for my own little mutts.

After splashing in the water, Stink found some sunglasses and Pip found a pink headband. Forget God's landscape - Pip has accessories! The day, very unplanned, couldn't have been nicer.

Well, one thing could have been nicer. I could have walked up the steps to my fabulous pink BEACH HOUSE instead of dragging my sand encrusted butt into my stinky SUV to head back to Smog Land.

Other than that. I'm not bitter. Someone has to live in paradise. My only consolation? I get a view of my kids each day. Let some Hollywood rich folk have the ocean, the sunsets, the dolphins splashing in the waves, the smell of the salt air the... the... Okay, I better stop before I see where I can sell toddlers online to buy some beach front property.

Hope you had a great weekend. I owe many of your sites visits. I'll be there tomorrow. Unless it's sunny and I ditch you for the ocean again. Hey, life's a beach.

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

My Freedom - Myth Busted!

I've officially named Wednesday as Andrea night. This means I get the kids to bed at 6:30, spend 30 minutes with Rex for dinner, then get the heck out of dodge. Being myself only, not a wife or a mom, is important to me. Nothing wrong with some alone time, but if I don't schedule it, it won't happen.

Last night, I was out the door at 8 and went walking with Mrs. V. at the mall. Wow - do you know that people actually shop retail? I mean, there were pants in windows going for, like $99 and up. There were no "Red Tag Salvation Army Specials" and no homeless people with shopping carts bartering for the Dora the Explorer handbag right next to me.

After sweating up a storm, I realized that the whole night was mine! I could Ebay all night. Or write. Or watch videos! I was going to sleep on the couch and be my own woman!

But instead, I grabbed an extra large Diet Coke and headed home. After watching Myth Busters with Rex, we called it a night together by 10:Pm.

Ever find that it's not the act of doing, but knowing you can do something, that makes all the difference?

Drawing a Blank

Today my sister and I took my mother out for lunch - her first day using the walker instead of a wheel chair for movement. I have only three things to say about this grand event:

1. Given that it was my sister and myself who were right next to her when she broke her ankle in the first place, this only proves that a mother forgives all sins and places no blame.

2. When my mother couldn't maneuver her way up the curb, a hot, bald and muscular man resembling Billy Blanks offered to carry her up the step. She accepted. He wrapped his arms around her waist, thrust his head under her arm pit, and lifted her gracefully up to the sidewalk. She was elated. I was furious, however, due to my final comment:

The ABC's of BBQ

Today it was warm out. We took the kids to JPL for an open house where Stink and Pip got run over by a robot. Literally, they sprawled down on the floor while a rover pummeled over their small frames and they just laughed and laughed, operated by two techs young enough to be my sons.

If only I could be so submissive when the so-called boulders of life come at me. Instead of running for cover, "Dear God! It's coming for me! Duck! Run for your life!" I should really just smush face down on the earth and let it pass right over.

And so, after JPL, I tried that. When Topanga T's boyfriend called out of the blue to ask, "Interested in some beer and hanging out" I didn't say my normal, "No, I have to food shop and clean the house." I said "Yes, come on over. With a 12 pack. And yes, bring your dogs."

And so they did. Rex cranked up the stereo, Pip blessedly slept, and Stink ran abandoned his movie for the much more pleasant option of writing in chalk on the back yard patio table, in between pilfering watermelon off my lap. I mean, it was so nice to relax, I didn't even other to put it in a bowl for others. "You want some? Here's my tub o'melon and a plastic fork. Come and get it." Classy, real classy.

Later on Cecelia and Finn stopped by. They left before a fabulous meal of heated up spinach, peas and veggie burgers, but they can read about it here.
In closing, this week it's going to be about taking a breath and chilling out. Less coffee, more beer. Less chores, and more laughter.

Though I do want to finish the windows in the house. They are driving me NUTS. I'm trying to chill. I am. But it will be easier to see the world with perspective if I don't have handprints and dog licks on the first four feet of every glass surface. So sue me.

Talk to you tommorrow!

Ex Husbands and Boys Man Enough For Barbie Slippers

Stink, Pip and I checked out the opening of a local firehouse today. They had never been to one before, and after today, they're certain to want to go back. Although they'll no doubt be disappointed when there's no jumper, no live band, no food, trucks on display or a climbing wall. "What? Just, like, firetrucks today?"

It was a hectic morning of fighting with Rex, the kids at each others' throats and the sad realization that I was, yet again, late with my credit card payments. Rex is so timely, if he were female, he wouldn't even be late for his period, despite being pregnant. He's just annoyingly perfunctual and practical about everything. Which is why we have a home and savings and food on the table and why I am clearly the biggest whiner on the planet. I'd take a class on how to be more grateful, but I'd just be late, so what's the point?

With all the dumb irritation of the morning, it wasn't until we arrived at the firehouse that I realized Stink didn't have shoes. Luckily Pip, who had on a princess dress and purple ballet shoes (because you can't ride a fire engine without sparkles) had an extra pair of Barbie slippers. He had a choice: Wear the blond or go home for his own sneakers, cutting his play time in half.

You can take a guess what he chose.

Between the shoe fiasco of 2008, and an emergency bathroom break post firetruck festivities that forced me to leave the car in the middle of a local park n' rec lot while I raced to the mens room, only to be interrupted mid-operation by a football player needing to use the facilities, the day was eventful to say the least.

Rex met me later at a local McDonalds where we didn't talk about credit card bills, vacation plans or how a last minute trip to Costco for a hot dog is too spontaneous for him. Stink can't eat hot dogs anyway, and if we went, I'd have to admit that I don't have the cash I thought I had due to a late payment on my credit cards, so it was a good time to just let it go. We held hands while the kids burned off the rest of their energy, ensuring an early bed time tonight. Gavin, the 10 year old down the street, is coming over at 7 for the first time to watch the kids while they snore. His only concern? Can he watch the NBA playoffs. After today? I don't care if he watches porn, as long as he doesn't tell his parents and keeps my kids safe so I can reconnect with the man who I sometimes forget about in the heat of my go-go-go crazy spinning brain.

Speaking of going out, I had better get the kids' dinner ready while they knock around a balloon the size of a kiddie pool that Pip intercepted from a 20 year old fireman in training. Pip: "I don't want a baby balloon. I want that biiiiig one on top." He looked at her in disbelief. "Pleaaaase?" she coyly offered up, then gave him a wink. No joke. He was defenseless.

Oh, for those of you interested in my ex-husband's blog, you can give him some love over there. He's single again with the most handsome boy in the universe, so if you know any hot women that don't mind living in Austin, give the man some props.

Though here's the warning: His blog platform is on Vox - One of the most difficult blogs to sign up for and comment on. I hate Vox. That's the reason I divorced him all those years ago. I mean, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was young and dumb and not ready to do my own laundry, let alone pay bills like an adult. No, not that.

And finally, happy wedding day to Mrs. V's sister in Florida. Hopefully V's kids made it down the aisle without staining their tuxes and she is now happily buzzed on martinis.

Happy weekend!

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Lots of Balls in the Air

Some of you wanted to know about the yellow ball in the last post that looks like a cross between a dog treat and a bomb. I have an answer for you, and it's not the most titillating.

Though it can be used with tits.

It is none other than... a massager. That's it. You stick in a battery and it kind of shakes. I'm seriously considering giving it to my kids for a bath toy. Though the fact that it came from a sex store is a bit creepy, so maybe not.

Speaking of sex, a few weeks ago I went into an adult store for research. I figure if I'm going to write 3 posts/week on sex, I've gotta come up with some better material than how foreplay in a Southpark "I Killed Kenny" tee shirt is not as exciting as it's cracked up to be.

I brought a friend with me from church (ha, there's some irony in there) who had never been in a "toy store" - or so she says. To prove the point that once a mother, always a mother - despite big intentions to rev up the sex life, I give you the following example:

Friend: Wow, look at those vibrators. They are HUUUUGE. What's the big yellow one called?

Me: I believe the correct name is "Ouch."

Friend: All I know is that I had better start finding something new for my husband. We've been so bored and... LOOOOOOK! Batteries in the vibrator aisle! Those are perfect for my son's new light saber!


More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.