Marriage

It's gotten to the point where I must admit we have outgrown our house. Even if we throw out half the junk we have around here, we have still outgrown our house.

Most days, the "opposites attract" balance between me and Daddy Star works out quite well. Especially with regard to the raising of the Twinkles.

But every once in a while, we run into large purchases we must make like cars or houses. We bought our current house when I was six months pregnant with Boy Star. I do not recommend it. One of our, ahem, discussions during that househunt ended in the only time since being married that I ran back home to my mother. Oy.

See, Daddy Star... He's a planner. He's an analyst. He is never happier than when a life event requires the creation of a spreadsheet. Woe is me.

And he knows how this is going to make me nuts and has started buttering me up in preparation. He came home from the warehouse club store yesterday with a huge bag of Starbucks coffeebeans.

Woe is me.

Memories

I was looking through old pictures the other day. Maybe I shouldn't do that close to my birthdays, because I was hit with this overwhelming nostalgia for my early childhood.

I had it a lot easier than most, but it still wasn't that great. We lived out in the country, down the road from a dairy. Their cow pasture met our backyard. I don't rember if there was a smell involved (and how could there not have been). I remember feeding apples from our apple tree to them over the electric fence.


I remember jumping in leaf piles my mom raked. And helping her plant the gardens. And when the tomatoes were ripe, she'd give me the salt shaker off the table and I'd eat them under the swingset.

My memory is unreliable. It takes some time before I remember the fights. And the angry scenes after the separation. I remmeber those as an observer. There's no emotion to them.

So anyhow, here's a picture of me at three.

Blame Canada

Recently, a Canadian poster on a message board made mention of a nanaimo bar.

Momm Star made the mistake of asking what a nanaimo bar is. There are some things chocoholics just should not know about.

Attempting to explain this wee bit of heaven to Daddy Star required a bit of
Googling.

Google can be a very bad thing.

Suggestions, anyone?

My long-dreaded birthday has arrived. (And half of you are going to cyber-smack me, so feel free to hit the happy little next blog button at this point.)

I really wasn't expecting this level of neurosis this year. Next year, thirty, that should be the year to freak me out. Twenty-eight was all good. And maybe I'm just getting a jump on the angst now, so I can have fun next year. Please, God.

Anyhow, I have no plans yet. So how should I celebrate my last year in my twenties?

(Ummm, we can leave out anything that would require bail money or hiding bodies.)

Typecasting

Ingenue


What is your sexual appeal?
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Thank you to Prezzie for the fun quiz.

Kiss Kiss

It's Smoochy Love Day! Yay! Momma Star is a sucker for Valentine's Day. Those Hallmark people see her coming miles away.

An entire day that's all sweet and chocolate and red. How can a girl help but be all twitterpated?

Anyhow, you cool girls who know who you are, much love to you, today and everyday.

Hunting

Not that Momma Star would justify the practice, but we have a lot of hunters around these parts. As if it weren't enough to be born into a family of hunters, marriage brought more of them.

Of course, Daddy and Momma Star have had many discussions about when and if the Twinkles will be hunting. Daddy Star always attempts to reassure Momma with "There are no hunting accidents. Just hunting carelessness."

Hmmm....

Youth

I'm of the age that I was a way too young for the Madonna craze of the early '80s, a little too young to be anything other than grossed out by the sex book, and old enough to be horrified by her abuse of Don McLean's opus.

I certainly can appreciate her ability to re-invent herself. I can't fault her politics. Or her obvious dedication to yoga.

But the purple leotard disappoints me.

Lord knows, I'm having birthday-related aging issues of my own. I get it, truly. I color my gray hair. I always wear make-up when in public.

But purple leotards?

i think I'd rather just buy a sportscar.

More fun and games

I've been tagged again. Wheeee! This is so making up for elementary school dodgeball.

Anyhow....

Four jobs I've had:

Boston Market counter girl
Office assistant
Weekend help for a florist
Acquisitions editor for a very small publishing company

Four movies I could watch repeatedly:

West Side Story
Splendor in the Grass
The Princess Bride
Beaches

Four places I've lived:

Little rural suburb
Large, no longer rural suburb
Just north of the city neighborhood
Slightly east north of the city neighborhood

Four TV shows I love:
ER
Lost
Gray's Anatomy
The Daily Show

Four places I've vacationed:

not sure I have four
San Francisco
Niagara Falls
Ocean City, MD
Assorted Caribbean islands (a cruise)

My four favorite dishes:

My mother's curry chicken casserole
My gran's halupki
BLT's on warm French bread
Salmon with dill sauce

Four website I visit daily:

MSNBC (my homepage)
NOTI
GO Fug Yourself
Democratic Underground

Four places I'd rather be:

Barbados
Out to lunch
Any bookstore
Visiting my far away best friend

And now for my tag-ees

Bluesy Fish
OmegaMom
Over the Rainbow
Suburban Meteorite

(Or not. No one's coming after you.)

Fun and games

Note to fellow bloggers: the increased hits one receives from calling a blog post "boobs" gets old rather quickly. Somebody in Kuwait has internet access, and I doubt it's an Iraqi.

Note to blog readers: one may want to make sure all adult content filters are on before one starts clicking the oh-so-convenient "next blog" button.