Wednesday, May 30, 2007

(yet another) sign


that Matt and I are meant to be:

We each, independently, purchased Blake Lewis' version of Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name." It's generally agreed to be the most innovative and best of his American Idol performances. (he's the runner-up this season, for the 98 percent of you who are too cool to know this -- and I'm not being sarcastic with that.)
(yes, Mike, he was the cool beatboxer guy.)

So, yes, that means:
1) We both watch American Idol.
2) We both (without telling the other person) wished to download the song.
3) We both actually DID do so -- and PAID for it.
4) We are out ninety-nine hard-earned cents that could have gone toward, I don't know, a Gwen Stefani song or something.
Are we silly, or what?

It's a good thing the season is over. For the last few weeks of the show, Lizzy was imitating the annoying slide up the musical scale that signals the return of the show from commercial.
She was just about reduced to tears last night when I informed her that, no, she couldn't watch TV. Mommy's last must-see show of the sweeps season (House) was on.
Bad Mommy!!!

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

we did it!!!


House: SOLD.
SOLD, I tell you!!!
Matt just came from closing. It is a done deal.
woo HOO.

Monday, May 28, 2007

living in Disneyland

Our little Wild Kingdom scenes continued to unfold this weekend as Lizzy and I watched Mommy and Daddy bluejay teaching their wee jays how to fly yesterday. It was pretty darned cute. I could spot two of the five – we weren’t really ‘allowed’ to go anywhere near the nest, so I couldn’t tell if the other three chickies were still up there, but I suspect they were because Mom and Dad were intent on only two spots in the yard. There, the little still-fuzzy birdies sat. They’re only two weeks old! I can’t believe they’re already at the ‘learning to fly’ stage. They grow so fast… Sniff… But it’s just as well, because Lizzy was out on the trampoline with her Grandma Connie on Saturday, and the daddy dive-bombed her, as we were warned he would if we allowed the jays to nest on her playground equipment. In the ‘egg’ phase, the parents would grudgingly depart the nest to let us see what was going on. Even after the birdies hatched, we could scare them away for a look. But the parental instinct kicked in hard-core after a couple of days. They wouldn’t leave for anything. I could be close enough to reach out and stroke the parent on the nest (but didn’t dare, because I value my fingers), and they would glare and give us a warning croak. And now, they won’t let us off of the deck without an attack.

As the slower of the birds sat, not looking very willing to learn, a squirrel happened by, looking for nuts, we think. Both Mommy and Daddy bird swooped and dived and drove the poor thing under the deck. That little baby bird wouldn’t do anything until one of the parents flew in to sit next to him. Then he’d strain his little neck and flap his little wings piteously, as if to say, “I’m TRYING, can’t you see! But I just don’t think I can move from this spot, actually!” They would cluck encouragingly at him, and go back across the yard (about 30 or so feet away) to the fence, where I think they were trying to get him to follow. “If you want to be with us, you’re going to have to figure out how to get over here!” The other little birdie seemed to be having more success. He was taking short hops and getting those wings going, if not quite flying yet.

I was giving Lizzy a running narration of the events. “Mommy is saying, ‘c’mon, honey! You can do it! Just flap your wings like this!’” Lizzy said, “But how do you KNOW they’re saying that?” “Isn’t it obvious?” I said. Wow. She’s a fact-checker, that one. My little skeptic.

We also saw a little chipmunk scurrying around at one point, and a robin family feeding their nest of babies up high – we can’t see into it, but we can tell that’s what they’re doing. The bluejays and the robins seemed to have an understanding. That’s all I can figure. But the squirrels clearly weren’t in on the deal.

On Friday, I stayed home with Lizzy (the usual day care closure the Friday before Memorial Day), and we took a long walk and then hung out with our friends down the street. Lizzy and Ethan and Keenan donned swimsuits and played in the kiddie pool and sprinklers. The play somehow morphed into plant watering, and then full-on car washing. Dee just shrugged and got them a bucket and some sponges. Hey – who are WE to stand in the way of a couple of clean cars? From the bottom of the windows down, anyway. As they washed, they sang a short refrain from a song Ethan picked up somewhere – “We will, we will, ROCK YOU.” “We will, we will, ROCK YOU.” Lizzy joined right in – at times, Ethan would do the ‘we will’ part, and Lizzy chimed in on the ‘ROCK YOU’s.
I said to Dee, “at least it’s not ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’.”

Dee and I were joking about the discrepancies between the various, er, wildlife experiences at her house and mine. Granted, a bluejay divebombing is no treat, but for the most part, it’s all Snow White-ish cute little animal time up at the end of Sovereign. We have our wee bunnies, our nesting bluejays and robins, our chipmunk, our fuzzy wuzzy caterpillars. Somewhat of a fantasyland of friendly animals.

Dee and Sam apparently live in Adventureland. Or perhaps Frontierland. I think they probably think I’m a total nature wimp, at this point. Whatever brave front I had put up thus far came crumbling down this past week. First, Dee and I went running through the woods adjacent to their property. We had a good little workout. When we got back, Sam or Dee said merrily, “Don’t forget to check for ticks!” Um. Then there’s the copperhead snake that lives in their crawlspace.

But the Big Momma of Kate Willies came when I went into their backyard to toss an apple core into their too-cool compost bin. For reasons too boring to explain, I was by myself – Keenan was asleep upstairs. Lizzy was with Dee, in their van, picking up Ethan from preschool. I marveled at the awesomeness of the compost bin, flipped up the lid, and … just about freaking lost it when I saw the size of the spider that stared back at me (they have eight eyes, you know. Or is it more…). Okay, I don’t know if it was staring back at me, but it probably was! Dude. No one will EVER believe me when I describe this monstrosity. No one apparently has seen it but Sam, who would probably meet up with Bigfoot himself with mild curiosity and zero fear. “Oh, yeah. The Big Guy’s been living back there for decades, I hear. I’ve only seen him a few times, but he’s a smelly one.” Because, when I say, “spider,” what I mean is, “tarantula.” “sentient being that might well eat rodents.” So help me, so help me. The abdomen was flatter, but THAT WAS THE ONLY DIFFERENCE between it and a tarantula. Big ol’ hairy thick legs, big ol’ stripey body, big ol’ … geez, I’m creeping myself out again, just thinking about it. And it was sitting next to a big ol’ nest, as well.

Mothra spiders attack D.C. suburb! Residents flee in terror!

Naturally, when Dee returned a few minutes later, the stupid spider was gone. As was the last of my credibility.
When Sam came home a few hours later, he said, “Oh, yeah. It’s a wolf spider. A little smaller than my hand, I guess. That’s about as big as they get. Its bite is mildly poisonous, but it won’t kill you or anything.” Dude, I’m not worried about its BITE. It’s just … why does the size matter? I don’t know, but I keep hearing that it does. And in this case… Let’s just say, I’ve been face to face with black widows before, and yeah, they’re freaky. But this one will remain in the memory for a long time. The photos of wolf spiders I later Googled were nothing compared to this monster. Those were merely spiders. This thing ... words just don't do it justice.

Copperhead snake vs. freakazoid wolf spider. Cage match! I honestly do not know which would win.

Friday, May 18, 2007

party people

Lizzy and I are going to no fewer than three parties tomorrow. One of a school friend, in Ashburn (finally! Evidence that someone else at the day care doesn't live in Arlington! We're grateful), one who's a daughter of daddy's friend, in Manassas, and then a neighborhood block party that so happens to be held right at the bottom of our driveway. I've heard from a couple of neighbors that the previous occupants never attended the party, and somehow required entrance or exit at the height of the festivities, effectively requiring the seas to part, with difficulty. It's nice having such low standards to live up to as neighbors. Matt and I can manage to at least attend the occasional party. Hooray!
Lizzy and I were actually invited to a fourth party, but we decided, c'mon -- enough is enough! The baby shower can happen without us. Somehow.

In the interests of time -- I'm helping my boss with a project this week, because we have no one on vacation for the first time in two months, so we had to come up with SOMETHING time-consuming to do -- I'll tack on this excerpt from a friendly e-mail earlier today to Dottie:

The bluejay birdies on Lizzy's play equipment hatched. They nested on what amounts to a perfect viewing platform, yet they don’t have the consideration to move along when we want to view the babies! Unbelievable. I never see the birds feeding their chickies (five of six seem to have hatched), but the babies continue to grow. I know this because they’re too big to fully conceal (though the bird gets REALLY fluffed up when I come around; it’s interesting), and I see babies poking out from underneath. That CANNOT be comfortable for them! And I can tell they’re still alive, and bigger. So they must be getting SOME food. Maybe in the early morning?
Lizzy played sick yesterday. She threw up real good in the car Wednesday evening on the way home – she told us that morning that she was sick, but she seemed fine (no fever) and so we didn’t believe her, and she seemed to do fine at school all day – so Matt stayed home with her yesterday. They jumped and bounced and kicked and played, some with Ethan, the good friend and neighbor, and then when I got home (at nearly 8! I hate the non-HOV commuting options), we all – Ethan’s parents, and another friend named Jackie – imbibed margaritas and had fajitas. Lots of fun. A good almost-ending to my week.
I’m trying to lean on Matt to patch up the squirrel holes (wherever they are) in the attic this weekend. I am paranoid about Squrrels II: The Return. Which could, I suppose, happen any time – I hear they have two nestfuls per summer season. Yes, unlikely to be soon, but I want no chances taken.


Have a great weekend, y'all. Only five hours of must-see prime-time sweeps viewing left! In Matt's words, 'after next week, I get my wife back.'

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

is it just me ...

Or is this the slowest week ever?

I've been wanting to blog, but things have been busy here at work, and (blush) that's where I have time to do most of my blogging. Ahem.

I’m planning to do a recap, with photos which I now have in my possession, of Lizzy’s and my recent vacation to SoCal. We’ll put Blogger’s limit (is there one?) on photos per entry to the test.

I think I’ve sort of readjusted to live here in NoVa. I’m reminded daily of how good we have it. We really do! Thanks for putting up with my whining when I lose sight of that, or tend to concentrate on the things I DON’T have right this minute. And, yes, some – proximity to family, etc. – are important. But there are only a few things, really. I’m pretty much outrageously blessed.

On a community pride/commuting note: Matt and I have noticed in recent, well, years that certain communities have developed little oval stickers once used only by European countries. As I’ve done some driving in European countries, this confused me for awhile. Then I realized one day, oh, they’re trying to be cute. Okay. If I had a dollar for every ‘OBX’ (Outer Banks, N.C.) sticker I’ve seen on a car during my commute, I’d … have a lot more dollars. Maybe this is such an awesome place that vacationers simply cannot help themselves? I'm uncertain whether that makes me want to visit, or to stay away.

Recently, Matt and I noticed with amusement, and a little disdain, “SR” stickers. We got close enough to a vehicle to make out the teeny-tiny type that tells you that, yes, nearby Loudoun County’s own South Riding (an attractive but at least slightly creepy pre-planned community) has a sticker of this type. Matt joked that we needed to get a PV (Pleasant Valley).

Lo and behold – while I was away on vacation, Matt and his mom spotted one! (on a vehicle, on the road) We’ve seen several more since. And, yes, if we figure out where to get them, our poor little Ford Focus, thus far unafflicted by stickers, will be sporting a proud PV.

That all is amusing enough, as far as I’m concerned. But this morning, we saw the ultimate capper: PW. For, and I kid you not, Prince William (county). From whence we just escaped, er, moved. I hope you don’t think me racist for honestly reporting that a Hispanic man, blasting really frenetic, scratchy tunes out of his open window, was at the wheel of the white pickup.

Hee.

Side note: South Riding, which is practically a few softball tosses away from Pleasant Valley (though over a county line) if you go the back way, has its very own Curves! And it's open slightly later than my previous Curves. Maybe I shouldn't quit after all...

Thursday, May 10, 2007

blessings

I have the most startlingly beautiful, massive, unexpected spray of flowers at my desk today. The hubby’s a good, and generous, man. It’s clear that he took care to choose a flower that I told him recently makes a lovely bouquet (Gerbera daisy), as well as the flower I wanted prominently in our wedding (hydrangea). This Mother’s Day bouquet is in our wedding colors, as well.
What a guy!

Also – thanks to all who prayed for our house-selling situation. A buyer has been found (miraculously), and I assume that if all goes well with the inspection, we should have it off our hands by the end of the month. It’s not the money we were hoping for, but at this point, just having an end to it all is blessing enough.

Friday, May 04, 2007

vanity

I make a general practice of trying to keep Lizzy away from my cell phone, but she got her grubby mitts on it recently.

She used the opportunity to inform me that she did NOT like the photo of her that pops up when the phone is opened. The photo in question is of Lizzy with short hair, and she does not care for short hair these days.

"Would you like me to take another one to replace it?" I asked.

"YES," she said, emphatically.

I have no idea where she could have gotten this concern for her appearance. No idea at all.

:)

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Lizzy, naturalist

I’m often a bit torn when it comes to Lizzy and gender issues. On one hand, I love, love, love having a sweet, soft little girl who likes to wear dresses (sometimes) and play with dolls and tends to nurture things as opposed to being bent on destroying them.
On the flip side, she doesn’t seem to like trying to climb things much – which used to be cool (toddler stage), but now seems a bit whiny – and she does silly things sometimes, such as say, “Ick!” or "Ewwww!" when I’m reading the Pokey Little Puppy to her at night and the puppy encounters things like lizards, spiders and grasshoppers going up the hill or down the other side.

So I was quite pleased Monday night when we arrived home from work and day care, and we found a fuzzy little caterpillar on our garage door. Lizzy wanted to know if she could touch it. “Of course you can!” I said, telling the persistent inner Mommy voice that, no, this would not be that type of caterpillar I heard about one time with poisonous spiky hair on its back. She wanted me to pick it up first. So I did. Then she did! Then she carried it around, letting the little guy crawl all over her arms and shirt, and pleaded with us to let her ‘keep it.’ Matt and I successfully argued that 1) there were about 30 million identical caterpillars within a square acre of this one, and 2) it would probably die if we took it inside. So she put it down on the deck railing in the backyard, and wished it goodnight as dusk fell.

On the way home on Tuesday night, Lizzy said, “Will my caterpillar still be on the deck in the backyard?” I said, “Well, we can check!” and whispered a furtive prayer that we’d be able to find one of those 30 million fuzzy little guys somewhere around when we got home. Sure enough, we found three on our driveway within the first, oh, nine seconds of arrival. Lizzy delightedly proclaimed that the most active was her little friend from the preceding night. She left that one outside without too much of a struggle, but periodically throughout the evening said, “I need a pet. I need a pet.” Which I find hilarious, because Lizzy and I are basically leaning on Matt to “let” us have both a couple of cats AND a baby right now. Poor guy!

To keep our still-in-residence attic squirrels in good company (I guess), a couple of bluejays moved into our backyard about a month or so ago. We saw them making a nest on the play equipment we inherited with the house one Saturday morning.
Matt’s dad was visiting, and pointed out that we’d better get rid of that nest before the mommy bird laid eggs in it and they decided that the entire backyard was their territory. They’re rather notoriously bad sharers, I hear. And they took off for a week or two, leaving us ample opportunity to do so. But I just couldn’t. Have you ever seen a nest up close? It is a thing of amazing, inspirational beauty. At least, this one is. It’s got lovely little twigs cleverly interwoven that trail artistically down the side of the platform a bit. And a perfectly round inner bowl of what looks like dried mud. It’s absolutely astonishing, that these birds can throw that thing together in a few hours. If it wasn’t found in nature, I’d visit a museum to see it.

A week or two ago, they returned. And laid six little brown-and-yellow-speckled eggs. The mama (I assume) looks at us defensively whenever we go on the back deck, and she took off for a treetop when Lizzy wanted to go bounce on the trampoline on Saturday. Then mama came back. I hope the eggs weren’t harmed by her forced departure.

We also appear to have not just one, but two, bunnies who seem to live under a bush alongside our fence! I saw one brown little bunny with a white puff of cotton tail the first time we sneaked into the backyard to check out the (vacant) house. And we’ve seen him a bunch of times since. He’s totally a resident. But we’d never seen his friend until a couple of days ago. I joked to Matt that that particular amenity hadn’t been listed with the property. It’s such fun for Lizzy to be able to see these little guys.

Though, having said all that, I’d still like to kill me some squirrels. (joking, wildlife management folks -- only fantasizing. Er, joking.) But I’ll settle for getting them out of the attic – and keeping them out.