flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

December 21, 2006

Two Wise Guys

We had our Christmas pageant this past week in church. I feel especially bad for our Sunday School teachers - there are something like 12 boys and 2 girls. Yikes! With the abundance of kids, I was shocked that both boys were given speaking roles:

Sean, overcoming the "fake shy" of a 6 year old under my threats, clearly stated his line "hail king of heaven, I offer you this gift of frankincense." He did a good job, and I certainly told him so.

But Tim, the Ham of the day, grabbed the microphone, and melodramatically proclaimed "Hail king of Sorrows! I offer you this gift of Myrrh!" and stuck out his prop, to the oohs and aahs of the audience. Yul Brenner would have been proud.

He's 3.

I'm telling you, this boy is trouble. He's cute, and he knows it.

(and with that yarn, I've got to finish the cards!!)


I lied

two more posts. I've not had the chance to update in weeks... so here's some fodder.

We were watching some music videos the other night, and they had a spate of classic rockers on. They had ELP, the Stones, Yes, CS&N, and others. John asked if CSN were american. I said I thought so, David Crosby, yes, but I didn't know about Steven Stills or Graham Nash. John, in his culturally sensitive manner, said "Graham's a Brit name, like Ian or Colin. I'll bet that guy's a limey."

Wikipedia to the rescue. Yes, Nash is British born. I didn't realize just what a soap opera the bands of the late 60's early 70's were! Crosby got kicked out of the Byrds for hanging with Stephen Stills of Buffalo Springfield. They partner swapped again with the Hollies, stealing Nash, and forming CSN.

ELP wasn't much better, and went on to spawn Asia (yikes).

But, as the VH1Classic show we were watching played the songs you don't hear so much, it was really neat. I heard Zepplin I'd forgotten I liked, as well as ELP I didn't know I liked. If only iTunes sold it all!



tis the season...

... for procrastination. We just finished our annual newsletter (or I should say John just finished it. All I do is the final edit. And the graphics. And the printing.) yesterday, so I'm finishing the cards today. I took yesterday and today away from Spacwells, and have been doing the christmas thing left and right. Cookies, cards, etc. Should be finishing my cards right now, but my writing paw is sore, so I'm typing instead!

So there's this awesome tape I bought back in 1990. Before I had a CD player. It was a limited release. I only play it once a year, for I know the tape will fall apart given time and wear. I have looked every year for a used copy of the CD. No dice. Until this year. For the highway robbery price of $50.

I bought it. I'm so bad. But you know what? Santa's not bringing me any presents. And there really isn't much I want. But I've wanted this for about 10 years, since I got a CD player. This is the first time I've seen it. And maybe I just made someone else's christmas. Hopefully I did.

One more post, about the kids, and I'm back to work...

Merry Christmas to anyone who comes across this blog. It's okay if you're not Christian. It's just a goodwill thing, I swear.


It's Really CousCous!!

I am not a gourmand. I swear. But I'm married to a gourmet chef. What's a hag to do but learn something about high end food (including how daggone good it tastes!)

So the other night, he's cooking some tapioca-like substance on the stove. But it's not tapioca. I'm like - what's that schtuff? Looks like couscous. He's like, it's really couscous. I say, what kind? (couscous is NOT that big) He says, it's really couscous. I say, I believed you the first time. What kind of cous cous is it?

ISRAELI couscous.

Ahhh, gotcha!

(third base!)


December 02, 2006

Old, Flightless Hag

So, now I'm not just flightless, and a hag, I'm old. According to my human development course, I've left early adulthood, and I'm in middle adulthood.

And my bratty sister sends me a card:
"I couldn't ask for a better sister!"

(open card)

"Well, I could, but I think Mom's too old now." (mom is 77)

Yes, I'm a terribly bratty sister. Have I mentioned that my sister is OLDER than I am?



Recipe for a Happy Stinky

First, add a sixth birthday (Happy Birthday, Sean!)
Then celebrate it over three days:

On the first day, your actual birthday, skip school. Eat whatever you want for breakfast, go to the Franklin Institute for the morning, and have pizza for supper. Be surprised when Dad goes and gets you birthday presents, anyhow, after Mom said that going to the science museum was your present.

On the second day, take cupcakes and juice into school, and be all your fellow rugrats' hero.

On the third day, be visited by your grandparents who bring more gifts and cake and icecream.

That is one happy kid. And he's usually a groaner. For you statisticians: 48.5 inches, 47.5 pounds. He's a beanpole. And for once, he's a smiling beanpole!