Saying yes...

I. Like. Eating. Guano.

Catchy group, HDB... unfortunately YouTube did not have anything about morepork's, but they did have this...

Love and Marriage

I woke myself up in the middle of the night due to the fact that I was talking in my sleep. I don't talk in my sleep on a regular basis that I know of. I'll occasionally make the muffled scream as I dream about falling off a cliff or something like that, but I've never been one to speak clear, coherent words... which is why I was so surprised to hear myself talking.

As the talking continued, I slowly woke, only to hear myself clearly say, "Shut up, Grizzled!" Oops. That was a little harsh. Had Grizzled heard?? I sheepishly fell back to sleep.

This morning, Grizzled asked me what I was dreaming about last night... said I was talking up a storm and that he believed at one point I told him to shut up, even though it was apparent I was the one who needed to zip it.

I honestly don't remember what I was dreaming about and don't recall being particularily angry in the dream. I'm guessing Grizzled was just using what the lamblets refer to as his "explaining voice"... when Grizzled is in his explaining mode, even the most patient person will find it hard not to ask for silence.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Youngest Lamblet was home sick for a couple of days last week. While suffering on the couch, she thought it might make her feel a little better if she watched some TV shows from her "early" days... her preschool days. I turned on NOGGIN and slipped into the other room to get some work done.

It was then that I remembered how perverse Oobi sounds when not watching it. I flashed back to an earlier time when I honestly thought The Youngest Lamblet had messed with the remote and had inadvertently clicked on some soft porn... This YouTube is way too short and doesn't do it justice, but it gives a hint of what 30 minutes might be like...

Just because you've ordered, doesn't mean you can't look at the menu...

Taking a page from the Snag Handbook of Parenting, I decided to embarass my Eldest Lamblet in front of a friend while driving them to dance... as usual, the topic was veering towards boys... who was cute, who was not. Who was smart, who was not. I chimed in on a couple of the boys who were mentioned to which EL replied...

"Mom! EEEEEW!!! You can't say that!"

"Why not??" I asked. "I'm not dead. I have eyes... I can see what someone looks like and share my opinion. I can appreciate a quit wit and a sharp mind!"

She didn't think so. Her friend giggled. Her friend having told her before that she enjoys the frankness of our conversations, whether serious or not.

At some point during the drive, the topic turned to a teacher that another mother thought was *hot*. I spoke up here and said hot would not be my adjective of choice, but I would say *handsome*. So and so was definitely a handsome man, to which EL's friend replied, "But he's MARRIED! You can't comment on a married person! And... YOU'RE MARRIED!"

EL slid down even further in her seat... obviously knowing I was not going to stop talking. I informed the dear friend that just because you're married doesn't mean you stop appreciating people and whatever charms they might have... and this man was handsome and nice, married or not. I also mentioned that I wanted nothing to do with this man, even if I we were both single. He was 27 and I'm not Sean Penn or Michael Douglas, I've always prefered the company of an older person, but... I could appreciate his looks. He was handsome. End of story.

And then we arrived at our destination with EL making a dash to get out of the car before I said anything else... she was fast, but I was faster. I informed her friend that appreciation never goes away and thank gawd for sunglasses... watching suntanned college-aged swimming teachers is what makes swimming lessons bearable...

And off they ran, but not before I heard a giggle emanating from EL's friend.

I may be married, happily married, but I'm not dead.

A Friend of Glenn Beckons

I received a "friend request" on my real FB page... a page I rarely look at because frankly, I talk to most of the people in other forms, and also, don't feel the need to inform everyone of my latest scintillating activity. If it's that scintillating, I don't have time to post it on FB... Anyhow, in comes an email from someone requesting my friendship.

I didn't recognize the name. At. All.

I've gotten requests before from people I don't know and am always a little curious about what led them there. I always assumed they ended up at the wrong Jennifer. They were searching for the Jennifer K who is a pastor or the Jennifer K who is an equestrian.

Still, I checked this person's info page...

I recognized the face from high school (and the hometown was the same). I liked this person in high school. We didn't do much together, but I always enjoyed this person's company in class or in the cafeteria. Still... what would we talk about now? We didn't hang out together after school. We were really more like... aquaintences.

I looked at the info... this person had an interesting career. This person was married and had a sizable family. Good. I'm glad.

Then I got to the interest links and the fan links. Almost every one was of Glenn Beck!!!

Oh no... I will not be going there. I realize we're not all alike and it's our differences that can make for the most interesting conversations, but no... I will not be going there. But then, I've probably already been indoctrinated. I was indoctrinated by a liberal college education and there's no going back. I've also been known to watch shows that are taped in the Rockefeller Center...

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

She's a man, baby!!!

I was taking a break from holiday packing, was reading some Wolcott posts, when I ran across a quiz that determines your blog's gender... if you're an anonymous blogger, it can determine whether the writer of said blog is man or woman.

Well, as we all know, I'm not anonymous and I'm a woman. My name usually gives it away. Jennifer is not exactly a masculine sounding name. I've also discussed being a mother. I've discussed constricting pantyhose, sagging bosoms and my love for my husband.. and yet, what did the Gender Analyzer come up with for me???

It was 63% sure I was a man, baby!!!

And it's not even like I was talking to the analyzer on the phone!!! It couldn't even hear me and still... I'm Sir Jennifer.

Oh well, I'm not upset. I remember taking a human sexuality quiz back in college. I scored an even 50-50 between male and female traits. My professor said that was a good thing... the closer to even, the more balanced the personality, and those that score too far one way or another, are... well, they're annoying.

But still... 63%???

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Enjoy your bird, enjoy your family. Travel safely if you're traveling.

Hugs and kisses,

Sir Jennifer

Outed by a lamblet...

I got roped in to doing another year of Art Appreciation for the youngest lamblet. I don't mind doing it, but this is the 3rd year out of 4 that she will hear her mother spouting off about all things art.  I would like it if she could hear some varying opinions, but no other volunteers were to be had, so the same ol', same ol' with me will be better than not having the program at all.

Today I went in with a couple of Frank Lloyd Wright prints. I usually bring in my own stuff since the prints that the PTA has lined up have been done to death. The selection is slim and tends to either be a pastoral or something impressionistic. If I'm not mistaken, they even have impressionistic pastorals. Having been through the prints before, I was also surprised by their lack of architectural prints. Apparently the original program doesn't consider architects to be artists. I do. I make a point of giving at least one architectural talk during the year. Chicago is a treasure trove of archtectural wonders. Kids need to realize that they are surrounded by awesome sculptures that they can walk through, live in, or work in.

The 3rd graders were open to the idea, were relieved to hear that I like questions and that they could ask as many as they liked. They always have good ones and I like the fact that they make me think. I don't want to just get up there and give a canned speech. I had no activity planned for today so I figured I'd allot at least 10 minutes for random questions. I was pleasantly surprised, 98% actually pertained to the topic at hand.

As I was packing up my wares to leave, I mentioned a few other things that I would bring in over the course of the school year. I said I would also bring in at least one of my own pieces of art at which point, the traitor formerly known as Youngest Lamblet, yells, "Mom!! Bring in the Snacktator!!!"

I nearly died.

I said a fast and hushed, "No... I'll bring in a painting...", but it was too late as I heard numerous 3rd graders saying, "What's the Snacktator??" "Bring in the Snacktator!!!" I again said no, that the Snacktator was just silly thing I had made for fun and was not really right for this program.

They didn't stop. I wanted to crawl out of the room. The teacher must have seen my distress and must have had horrendous visions of what inappropriateness the Snacktator must truly be because she joined me in trying to change the topic.

I just pray none of them remembers the name and goes home to ask Mom or Dad to Google the Snacktator. Next thing I know, they'll be finding my Condiment Carnage illustration, my Bill O'Reilly cookie, or the Precious Moments Vulture, complete with severed zebra leg, I made for Snag.  God knows what else I've done while bored and trying to entertain myself. These examples might be tame... Oh my GAWD! They'll find 3 Bulls!!!

This is reminding me of the time my Eldest Lamblet told her classmates about Thelma and they asked if I would bring her in.  I had to explain how orbiting cigarettes, coffee and martinis was not going to go over well with the school board and that some artwork is really only meant for adults.

If you don't hear from me again, DCFS has been called...

I'm sorry... I couldn't resist.

I swore I was swearing off politics because I was swearing too much. I was scaring my dog... plus, my youngest lamblet tossed out a "He was really pissed off!" today... causing me to ask her why she used that choice of words. Her response?

"You say that all the time, Mom! Especially when you're watching the news."

So, I figured for my sanity and in order to be a good role model, I would cut out politics until I went to vote...

And then... Grizzled showed me this. I can't resist.

Yeah, I laughed...

When Worlds Collide

This morning, while minding my own business and walking out back, nearly 3 feet from any given plant that held insect allure, a bee somehow found its way between my eye and my glasses. I think it was a bee. It could have been a yellow jacket or a wasp. I could only hear the buzzing. I hurled my glasses to the ground, something that any glasses-wearer would normally not do. People who have worn glasses for decades usually have a 6th sense about the safety and whereabouts of their glasses. I then pawed and hoped for the offending creature to get the hell off of my face.

I had a span of about 30-some years where I had no stings of any kind. I seemed to forget somewhere in that time that they hurt! I am always amazed now at how much they hurt. I am truly in awe of how much it hurts to get stung in the thin and delicate skin of the eyelid. I'm just thankful it landed there and didn't somehow sting my eye. I don't even know if an eye can be stung. I don't want to find out.

The above, blurry photo was taken with my phone camera. It doesn't look too bad yet. It swelled completely shut within the next 20 minutes. Thank gawd I'm not allergic. I've spent the day in a Benedryl haze with an ice pack strapped to my face. Fun times.

And to think that yesterday, when the youngest lamblet was shrieking about not wanting to pick tomatoes because there were bees out there, I confidently told her that if you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone.

WRONG!

I merely crossed a bee's flightpath... or it crossed mine...

I must say though, bee stings seem to be good for crow's feet.