Light on the starch, Martha.

You all wondering out there how Martha, Martha, Martha was? Well, the experience was cool. Going up to NYC with 9 of my mommy blogger friends was fun, funny, and then funnier (the funnier came in when one of the mommies had to have her breast pump checked by the metal detector lady - AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA, the joys of nursing...)...but seeing Martha Stewart in all of her sourness? I say WHATEVS. Let me start with the positive: she's much thinner than she looks on tv. And that's where the positivity ends. Martha isn't friendly or nice or chatty or warm. At all. She's exactly what you'd imagine her to be: very Martha-y. As stiff and starchy as her 360-thread-count cotton percale bedsheets, as a matter of fact. And to that I say, see ya' Martha, I'm off to see Ellen next time I do the rounds. At least Ellen will come out into the audience and shake a tailfeather or two with us.

P.S.: I'd like to give a big 'ol high five to Sarah for setting up this super fun trip. Sarah's a crazy one - you can see it in her eyes - and without that crazy spark, we'd never get into half of the nutto stuff we do. Sarah, you rock! Where are we going next??????

Martha who? Oh, THAT Martha Stewart...

I've kept you in suspense long enough...yep, I'm headed to NYC on Tuesday, Oct. 28th with 9 of my fellow Mommy Bloggers to attend the Martha Stewart show!!! We have no idea of what's in store for us other than we need to be on time (which, in our kid-filled world is EXTREMELY difficult) and we need to look cute (ummm, helllll-oooooo, you're talkin' to a bunch of lil' hot mommies who KNOW when to nix the ponytails and sweats and slip into something a bit more "Manhattan")! We'll have NO problem with the "cute" part...it's the getting from Philly to NYC by 8:30 a.m. that gives me the willies. I guess I'll load up on highly caffeinated tea (I haaate coffee) and hope the trains are on time. So, get your DVR's programmed..the Chester County Mommy Bloggers are in full effect and are taking over the Martha Stewart studio on Tuesday. It'll be easy to spot us - we'll be the MILF's in the front row.

Bambi doesn't have a beef with you, GI Joe.

Hunting is not a sport. In a sport, both sides should know they're in the game. ~Paul Rodriguez

'Tis the season, people. Hunting season, that is. And it's official, I'll probably begin my Black Days very soon. Possibly even tomorrow. What are the Black Days, you ask? Basically, it's just me dressed in tons of black. The summer is over, the weather is officially too cold for my comfort, and now the meatheaded novices are crawling all over the woods and farms around my neighborhood with shotguns and rifles acting like they are G.I. Joe out to save the world. Funny thing is...there's no one shooting back at them. Their enemy doesn't even know there's a scuffle going on. Their enemy is an herbivore for Christ sake! Wow, now that's a threat, isn't it??? UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH. My head hurts thinking about it. I've already put The Game Commission on speed dial on my celly so I can report the dimwits who can't read the big 'ol yellow PRIVATE PROPERTY signs but choose to still park their ridiculous Ford F150's with their "Go Union" bumper stickers on them there. Ew. The thought of these tobacco-chewing numbskulls, walking around in their Wal-Mart camouflage gear, CARRYING A RIFLE!!!! It's horrible. And the worst part is that last year, as I was pulling out of my street, one of these heroes was merrily slaughtering a deer right there along the side of the road - a beautiful country road lined with numerous horse farms and 100 year old oak trees - just chopping him up and letting the blood spill out on the road for all to see. Including my 2 year old son at the time. So, that...the cold, the hunting, the meatheads in my neck of woods...it's all bringing me to the darkside. I'll be the one in black tomorrow. And probably for the next few months.

Meat(ball) me in the closet...

Here's another one to add to The Book Of Strange/Whack Things That Leave Zeke's Mouth: whenever he goes into my closet in my bedroom, he starts yelling "shady meatball!" and runs out. Today he did it and I asked him what exactly a shady meatball was. He simply said that when you see a shady meatball, you have to pat it down until it's flat. ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
I really have no clue what he's talking about since I haven't touched a meatball in over 20 years and meatballs RARELY make an appearance in my home let alone my closet. And yes, if you're starting to now put blog entries together, this IS the same closet that was serving as the Milkbone embryo hatchery about a week ago. What is it with my closet and why are bizarre spirits and strange meat products attracted to it? More importantly, why can't more Prada, Chanel, and Marc Jacobs spirits work their way into my closets via some nice handbags and shoes?

I could just eat 'im up with a spoon.

HOW DOES HE DO IT??? I mean, how does my sweet Timmy smile on command? I've heard of dogs rolling over, sitting, giving their paw, even speaking. I've been impressed by them all. Let's face it, I'm impressed by any canine antics. But look at my brown and white boy up there all giggly faced and grinny...who couldn't love that puppadidalidooo? The world would be a much lovelier place if there were about 6,734 more Timmy's trotting around. Really.

I had to tell him I was married. I ruined his night and pretty much his life.

Yeah, that's Matthew Ryan and MEEEEE up there. And yeah, he's holding a sign that says Zeke. He's holding that sign b/c he's Zeke's all time fave singer and well, I couldn't quite bring my 3 year old to a show yet. So, I did the best I could and had M.R. send his tidings via a Zeke sign. But let's get back to ME, ME, ME. FREAAAAAAAAAKIN' YEAH RIGHTEOUSNESSSSS!!!!! ME AND M.R. hung out on Friday night. Well, maybe not "hung out" but we "got together"......... Well, maybe not "got together" as much as I paid to "see" him. But, well, he DID stop to talk and hold that lame-ass sign and was very, very gracious about it AND told me to get closer to him when the picture was being taken. That counts for something. Seriously, that boy can sing and write tunes. If you don't go check him on iTunes immediately, you're not my blog friend anymore. Period.

Start decorating the nursery.

Something strange is in the air. The King (Otto, our chihuahua) is trying to hatch a bone. You did read that right. He's trying to hatch a bone. And he's a HE. He's been perched like a hen in our walk-in closet for 4 days now, on Pauly's 10-year-old fuzzy bathrobe, with a bone underneath of him. When anyone approaches him, he growls and shows his teeth. I think The King thinks a puppy will be born of that bone any day now. He thinks there's an embryo in that Milkbone. It's insane. He won't eat, he barely gets off the bone to take a drink. He's obsessed with the Milkbone embryo. I really think I'm going to talk to Dr. Jane (our awesomely super vet) to see if I should rob his nest while he's up getting a drink. Funny how I'M getting obsessed over the Milkbone embryo too, isn't it??? It's kinda' all I've been thinking about for the past few days. I run home to see if The King is still hatching. I take a break from whatever I'm doing to see if the hatchery is still running. At commercial time, I check in on the Milkbone embryo. What is it that's so compelling in there on that bathrobe???? Does The King know something we don't??? I guess only time will tell. I'll let you know if anything pops it's head out of the bone..other than the mold that's starting to form.

Wordless Wednesday.

This is John Surface, a.k.a. Zeke, playing his guitar. John plays his guitar a lot these days. Like, all the time. At least 20 to 30 minutes out of every hour that we're at home. I'm just sayin'....that's a lot of guitar playing for little John Surface when he hasn't even had one lesson (and you can DEFINITELY tell he hasn't had a lesson..). Did you know the ears bleed when too much noise is piped into them on a regular basis? I've lost 22 pints of blood since this guitar obsession hit.

Peace, love, and guitar, peeps.


P.S.: I know, doesn't John Surface actually look more like the Naked Cowboy???

P.S.S. (or P.P.S.?): If you're not in the loop with the John Surface sitch go back a few days and read my bloggity blog. And for future reference, stay in my loop, 'kay???

Target: the cure for the common cold.

As we know, yesterday was not a good day for me. I did power through though and made the best of it. Zeke and I went to a pumpkin painting playdate then on to a friend's b-day celebration. When all of the fun was done, I floored it on over to my doc's office. Dr. Lou is the MAN...I was in and out in 20 minutes with a script for the Z-Pak in hand. I ran over to Target to have my script filled because, well, along with an antibiotic, I felt that a bit of shopping therapy would do my goopy head some good. An hour later (and $101..), I was outta' there with the goods and now today I'm feeling like there may be some healthier days in store for me soon. I decided though that today Zeke and I are laying low - we're doing laundry, vacuuming...ya' know, all the stuff that's usually too lame to do on super nice 70 degree sunny days. I'm hoping that by tomorrow I'll feel ready to conquer the world again. Or at least Chester County.

It's snot my day.

I feel like crap. That picture above??? That's about how my head feels at the moment. I'm all jammed up and it's not a traffic jam up there folks, it's a head full of goo. I've got nothing to say except, excuse me, I've got to go blow my nose now.

Jack-O-Lanterns everywhere. Ya' know, the "people kind".

Yesterday was our annual trek to the Pumpkin Festival in Jim Thorpe, PA. We go to Mom Mom Cookie & Pop's house and make our way down the road to the most awesome pumpkin festival on the mountain. It's super duper fall pumpkiny fun and well, to be honest, seeing all those mountain mommas and papas makes us giggle all day. Cookie and I noticed quite a few "hotties" throughout the day that boosted our ego...quite a bit. Suffice it to say that dental plans are NOT part of the their benefits packages. I'll leave it at that.

So, we counted and realized that this was Zeke's 4th official Pumpkin Festival - even though he's only 3 1/2. He's a pro by now. He knows the scoop...as soon as we enter, he immediately perches upon the heaps of pumpkins for the photo op, then we head to the food booths so that Pauly can check out the goods. I'm always too anxious to get to the rides and Ghost Town to eat, so I'm in charge of rushing the meal as much as possible. As soon as the 5 minute meal is gobbled, we head for the fairway where all of the rides and games are located. This year had a really neato addition - there was a pen of baby deer that the kiddos could enter to feed and pet. Wanna' know what bummed me out MOST??? No adults allowed. Ummm, WHY? I soooo wanted to give those little sweeties a hug. Zeke and I see them every day in our yard and this was the perfect opportunity to finally touch their amazing fur and see their cutie pie eyes up close. But no. Nope. I was shot down. I even pulled out the big guns saying to the gatekeeper that I was afraid Zeke may "manhandle" the deer. Nope. No entre for me. She told me she'd keep an eye on him for me. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. LET ME IN, HORRIBLE HITLER MOUNTAIN LADY!!!!!!!!! Anyway, Zeke loved it, I kept poking my hand through the fence and manged to stroke a few deer heads with 2 fingers every now and then, but all in all it was a pretty sweet addition to the Pumpkin Festival.

Uncle Johnny and Aunt Melany joined us at the festival which completely MADE Zeke's day (since he totally thinks Uncle Johnny is a rowck starrrrr...) and I managed to get a great picture of Johnny and Zeke. Funny how the two of them really look alike, I think.

We finished off the day with a trip to a cool restaurant with an awesome view from the highest point on the mountain. It was gorgeous. Amazingly enough, Zeke fell asleep on the way home...which never...I repeat...NEVER happens. I guess that means it was a good day, huh?

Next year: our 5th official trip to the Pumpkin Festival..

An apple a day, Mr. McCain.

Wow. It's gettin' hot in heeeeeeer. I've never seen the temperature rise or felt the pressure tighten as much as it has lately in these parts. Life is just so darn POLITICAL right now. And I'm so freakin' into it, that I can't get my mind off of it. Never, ever before have I been so concerned about what's about to happen. Is it just me? I don't think so. I had a charged, intelligent conversation with 3 other playgroup hot mommas last night, and I was shocked to find out that they're McCainiacs too. Yeah, I'm one of THEM again. I know, I know...you thought that winky-eyed, kissy-faced Sarah girl scared me outta' town...but I just can't do it. I can't vote for someone who seems so radical (Obama). He seems like he's hiding something to me and I just can't put my finger on it. Could it be all of his middle-eastern ties that make me quiver? Maybe. Or maybe it would just make me feel better if he still called himself Barry. Call me crazy, but the name Barry makes my tummy less flip-floppy.

Sorry all you dems out there. I hate to disappoint. I'm simply praying that old Johnny Boy can keep his cholesterol in check and hit the treadmill for 30 minutes a day for the next four years. McCain MUST STAY HEALTHY FOR 1,460 DAYS. I'll be one unhappy senorita if I have to deal with a moose-killer for a president. It just won't be cool.

The only problem is it doesn't offer a 401K plan.

I just dropped Zeke off at school. His nose was a bit stuffy today and I really, really wanted to keep him home and just snuggle him up in my bed all day. It took a ton of self-control to stick to the day's schedule. I know for sure that it's his seasonal allergies kicking up, but still, I hate it when he sounds all congested. My poor little man. I just wanted to squeeze him and wrap him all up in his tee-tee cover (Zeke's version of a woobie) and keep him cozy all day. Of course, it wouldn't happen even if I did keep him home from school. He'd chill out for about 10 minutes, then he'd be up and ready to go outside to play. He's not the type to lay around for any extended period of time. Even when he had pneumonia last year, we were outside, bundled up in 10,354 layers of clothes, swinging on our swingset. Insane. I guess it's better than having a little couch potato. I realized something today tho when I was getting him all duded up for school. He's still just a little guy. He has little feet, little hands, little ears, ...everything is just miniature on him. It's so darn cute. As old and experienced as he acts at times, he's still just a little, tiny person making his way in this world. I love to just hold his hand and feel it's tininess at times. It's so vulnerable. And I know that it's not going to be that way for very long. These are the days I'm so thankful that I get to hold his hand...every single day as he grows up. He reaches for ME when he cries or when he wants to show me something he just drew. It's the greatest feeling in the world when I stop to think about it. I'm his center right now and I must, must, must remember that no matter how many times I miss being in a career, that this specific career...the career of creating a person...is far superior to any job I've ever done in the past. Even if I go back to work and exceed all of my expectations for myself, I think Zeke will be the highlight of my resume. After all, he's the only "job" I've ever done that has ever said "I love you" back to me. Now that's a pretty big paycheck.

Famous...in his own mind, that is.

Something strange has happened in our household. Zeke has become obsessed with playing the guitar (he has a miniature version of the real thing), and he won't put it down anytime we're at home. It's cute and cool and all that, but I have to admit, at times I find it somewhat annoying. Now, as a mom, I guess I should be all gaga over my baby's new found interest and all that junk. But, well, I just don't FEEL LIKE stopping every 10 minutes to listen to some newly created song called "The Lovely House" or "Avalon Shores". Yeah, the songs have pretty decent names, kinda' deep if you ask me, but the singing/guitar playing sometimes borders on making my ears bleed. Here's the wacky weirdo part of this whole thing tho...ever since this guitar thingy started, Zeke has proclaimed himself "John Surface". When I ask who in the heckio John Surface is, he just "air guitars" and yells "ROCK STAR"! Holy Crap. My 3 year old is living a double life as a toddler glam rocker. In his mind, that is. Isn't this why child psychiatrists were invented? And don't they like really, really medicate kids that exhibit these types of behaviors? Wow. Never thought it'd happen to me or mine. Here's my plan of action: it's simple. Don't ever, ever, under any circumstances, tell Dr. Joe (Zeke's pediatrician). If Zeke mentions John Surface at his next checkup, you can bet the house and cars that I'll tell Dr. Joe all about John Surface...my long, lost uncle from Nebraska who used to play bass in an 80's hair band.

I'd like to give a shout out to Timmy Kane.

I guess you all watched the vice-presidential debate last night, huh? What did you think? Now, I don't want my bloggity-blog-blog to get all political and hot and bothered. I'm not all about that. But I can say that Pauly and I have had some major words over this coming election. He tends to be pretty secretive about who he's going to vote for so that he doesn't sway my views. Whatevs, I'm not that wishy-washy this time, buddy. Admittedly, I have been in the past, but watching my 401K dwindle down to ridiculousness has made me a bit more aware than usual. God knows I still want to be fabulous in my 70's. So, about that debate last night...what the heck? WHO IS THIS PALIN LADY AND WHY DID THEY LET HER OUT OF ALASKA??? I really, really wanted to vote for McCain. For various reasons. But mainly because I think a president of the U.S. should have had the experience of actually fighting for his country before having the distinct opportunity of leading it. McCain, as we all know by now, is a war hero. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But after last night, I can't vote for him. Palin is a buffoon. What vice-presidential candidate gives "shout-outs" on national t.v. during a debate? What v.p. candidate actually WINKS at the audience and the American public NUMEROUS times during a debate? WHO CAN TAKE HER SERIOUSLY??? I certainly can't. It makes me sad b/c I thought it was all wrapped up in my head - I was voting for McCain, even though I had reservations. He was the lesser of two evils, sad to say. But now, well, he's got some hokey jokey Alaskan dummy at his side who can't seem to get the word "maverick" out of her head. It's over. I'm voting for Timmy Kane (my chihuahua). At least he doesn't give ludicrous shout outs to 3rd graders..