Sunday, February 10, 2013

Grammys Schmammys

The Grammy's are on and my Facebook wall is lighting up with posts about Mumford and Sons, Adam Levine and Justin Timberlake.  I'm not watching.  Don't get me wrong, I love Timberlake as much as the next girl, but my freakout over a new JT album is when James Taylor releases a new CD.  (I'll wait while the youngsters Google James Taylor to see who he is, or better yet kids, just ask your parents)

There is a new band, however, that really makes some beautiful music together.  We call them "Grandma and the Stool Softeners".  My mom and Abby like to entertain Lucy upstairs by shaking musical instruments and pill bottles.  When Grandma's aspirin were becoming broken and powdery, they switched their "maracas" to stool softener pills.  So every evening, the music begins.   



This particular evening, Lucy was shirtless and more interested in jumping around on the bed than making music.  (She's clearly the Anthony Kiedis of the group) (I'll wait while the older readers Google Anthony Kiedis - I'm an equal opportunity name dropper)

They are currently working an a music video, I will be sure to let you know when it drops.



Over the weekend, this site went over 1,000 views and I posted absolutely nothing new.
Thank you, and I'm sorry.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Jazz band follow-up (You won't believe it)

If I had no bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck.

Abby made the jazz band, but not on the drum set which she really wanted.  She wanted it so much, she refused to try out for the other drum options.  Her band teacher asked me to try and talk her into accepting another position because she enjoys jazz band and is a good musician.  I told him she would accept the position of "auxiliary percussion" and not to worry, I would talk her into it.

During our email interactions, he also said that he asked all the students which of them wanted to audition first because they had to leave early.  Abby's hand went in the air.  She just assumed I would be there early.

So, Abby and I talked and she agreed to play the other percussion instruments and it was a much better day.

Until...............

My email got hacked.  And the hackers sent a photo of a large breasted woman to everyone in my contacts list.  Now stop and remember who I just got done emailing earlier that day.....

Yes, I sent a picture of boobs to the band director.

Now, I sent a picture of boobs to about 300 people in my contacts list to be fair, but I received a few "heads up" calls that I had been hacked.  And then I found this email...

"Why did you send me this???"

From the band director.  The thud you just heard is my head hitting the computer, a thud that comes every time I think about this.

I knew that the wrong answer, which I really kind of wanted to type was "Because I am a raging sociopath" so I typed "My email account was hacked.  I am very, very sorry."

I'm pretty sure the band director may think I am trying to get Abby on that drum set one way or another, including flashing him MY drum set in an email.

WHY MEEEEEEEEE???????  

(Abby's aide at school is explaining to him this morning that I am NOT a crazy person, that I just am having a really bad week)

Enjoy your weekend people, and if I sent you an email, I guess you owe me some Mardi Gras beads.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Time...see what's become of me

Today was a bad day.

Abby had jazz band tryouts today after school.  Last year, I didn't know she was trying out for jazz band and I found out when she called me from the school to pick her up.  This year, I knew she was trying out and she was super excited to play "You've Got a Friend in Me" as her audition piece.

Jazz band practice ends at 4, so I assumed that tryouts would also last until 4, since I saw nothing to the contrary on the information sheet.

At 3:30, when I was getting ready to leave, I heard a phone call come in from Abby saying that "Grandma is late to pick me up".  My mother and I ran for the phone, but we couldn't catch her before she hung up.  I grabbed shoes and a coat and ran to the car, both purse-less and bra-less and without brushing my hair, so I could get there as fast as possible.  I made it there by 3:40 - 20 minutes earlier than I was to be there.

I pulled up in front of the school, directly in front of the door she would exit.  I considered going inside, but I remembered the bra-lessness and lack of hair brushing and didn't want to go inside and be "that mom".  I soon saw my friend Maria, who told me Abby had been in and outside several times and would likely be out soon.  And soon it was...

She came out of the door and took three steps out of the required 30 or so to get to me and started to scream "YOU FORGOT ME!" as her face contorted and the tears began to fall.  I quickly told her not to cry as a few teenage girls were waiting for their rides and I didn't want them to witness the inevitable meltdown that was on the way.  When I got into the car, she alternated sobbing and accusing me of forgetting her.  She was leaning over in the car, clutching me, bawling.  Sadness.  Anger.  Sadness.  Anger.  She told me that she had been waiting for hours, that she was starving and she was dying of thirst.  By this point, she was so upset - she was just yelling anything at me that she could.

I later found out that she began to cry inside the school, while waiting for me.  A few friends comforted her and told the band teacher, who was viewing other auditions.  He called my house again and my mother told him I was there to pick her up..  

As we drove home, I told Abby that she is the most important person in my life and that I would never forget to pick her up.  I told her when she needed me that I left the house with no bra and without brushing my hair.  She sniffled and said "But your hair looks beautiful".

Time is abstract.  Abby doesn't understand it.  If I wake her at 6:59 and she looks at her clock, she is HIGHLY upset that I woke her up early.  She doesn't understand that one minute is a very small time of sleep and that it isn't a big deal.  To her, it's a big damn deal.  She wants to be awoken at 7 a.m. - precisely 7:00 on the dot.  She wants me to be waiting outside her school, even when she is done a half hour early.  It doesn't cross her mind to look at her watch and be patient.  She expects me to be there.  Her demands are not because she is spoiled, they are because she can't process what happens next when her schedule changes unexpectedly.

Every day with autism isn't easy - in fact some of them really stink.  But you have that moment that makes you understand what you are working for when your child tells you that your unbrushed hair is beautiful.


This is our Autism Speaks Walk Team, Abby's Angels.  We will be walking on June 1st through Pittsburgh - if you are local - please mark your calendar and consider joining us.




Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Too Cute Tuesday


Oh sweet, sweet Lucy - you are such a happy baby, 
and your hairbow collection is fab-u-lous. 


Monday, February 4, 2013

Everybody deserves a little "RahRahRah"


Last week, our family friend came home from the Army, after being in Afghanistan and Germany.  I wanted Abby to get to see the soldiers get off the bus, with the families waiting with signs and tears of joy.  But alas, our friend was the only one coming home that day, so there would be no rally to attend.  His mother told me that even when he had the opportunity to visit home, there was never that moment of a crowd of people welcoming him home with all the fanfare each soldier richly deserves.

So we gave it to him.  As best we could. 

My girl scout troop made 3 signs welcoming Jon home.  We hung streamers from the signs.  Jon wasn't arriving at the airport until 10 p.m. so I knew Abby wouldn't be able to wait to see him on a school night.  It happened that the night he was to arrive was a deadly windy night and our signs would have lasted on his door about 2 minutes, so his parents allowed me to decorate in his house so he was welcomed with our signs, respect and love.

Thanks for your service to all members of the military and Welcome Home Jon.


Got a friend who needs to be thanked for any reason?  Do it.  Damn, it feels good saying "thanks".

Oh - and thanks for reading.
Sarah

Sunday, February 3, 2013

My card's going to get revoked

I am a simple woman with simple tastes.  I look at new things and new foods like I look at a snowy road..."I can do this.  It can't be that bad."  I am married to a man who snarls at Chicken Kiev and is joyful about taco night.  Rob's idea of branching out with new foods was a risky dish of guacamole a few weeks ago.

Which makes my membership in the facebook group called "Pittsburgh Food Snob" both amusing and questionable.  My friend Kelly invited me to join the group, and I have really enjoyed being a member.  I get to live vicariously through my friends and their friends (including the dude who cooks on PBS - seriously!) and see where they are eating fabulous foods.  I really enjoy reading about the exciting culinary lives of my "Food Snob" brethren - and usually, I enjoy a pop tart while I read up on their baguettes, brulees and brandys.   (Oh my!)

Sometimes, the members brag about what they are cooking too.  And the trash-talking for the Super Bowl has been fierce with the "Food Snobs", the football players could learn from us.  I have been quiet regarding my menu planning...until now.

We began the afternoon with an appetizer of Buffalo Chicken Dip, a specialty of mine.  I use the finest of canned chicken, or whatever Rob grabs at the Community Market.


My side dish was bar-b-qued chicken (a second can, we spare no expense) spread on crescent rolls with cheddar cheese, then wrapped in a braid-like roll.


My main course was....wait for it....Hamburger Helper.  I attempted to fancy it up with crushed Doritos on top (for texture) and sliced green onions.


Dessert was Peach Pie Dump Cake...I know, lousy name, but delicious nonetheless.  1 can of Peach Pie filling with a half a box of yellow cake mix "dumped" on top, drizzle 1/2 stick of butter on top and bake.

So, as you can see - it was a delicious spread of beige foods (the green onions was my Bobby Flay moment - hit them with a bit of color).

I'd love to discuss recipes with you further, but someone is knocking at my door.  I can only assume that it is Chris from PBS to forcibly take away my "Food Snob" membership card.  And likely to smack me with a spatula for crimes against culinary nature.

Mangia, everyone - hope you enjoyed your Super Bowl foods!

Sarah





Friday, February 1, 2013

For the love of Pete, Phil

Dear Punxatawney Phil:

I have had enough.  

Don't make me come up there.  I hate driving in the snow but I will suffer the 1 and 1/2 hour trip to kidnap your furry ass.

I have relatives in Leechburg that WILL know how to tenderize your treacherous hide.

So consider yourself warned.  Call a meeting with Mother Nature and knock it off already.

I think we both know I'm deadly serious.  Deadly.

All my best,
Sarah


"I smell varmint...."  (Any men reading know the rest of this quote)