One of the great things about this blog is that I can confess secrets and get things off my chest.  In the past I have openly admitted to have certain addictions. Whether it’s books or mindless and pointless games. 

Well once again it seems my pathetic will power has fallen prey to yet another game.  I might as well get this out there… my name is Becky and I am addicted to Farmville on Facebook.

Are you a farmer?  Do you don your overalls and plow that land? 

It’s a very simple and darn cute game. You plant seeds and then harvest them when they are grown. From there you get money which can lead to bigger farms, more animals, huge houses… the sky’s the limit! You also play with others who become your “neighbors.”  Two of my best neighbors are loved ones. (Sorry Mom and Matt but if I’m going down, you’re coming with me!)

Each seed you plant has a certain time before you harvest.  If you wait too long, they wither. THE HORROR!   Earlier this month when Matt was on the cruise he knew he wouldn’t have much, if any, internet access. Being the loving girlfriend I am, I asked in all seriousness, “Honey, do you want me to farm for you?” He replied, in all seriousness, “Sure. That would be great.” So with that conversation and an exchange of passwords (talk about TRUST!) I began my week away from my beloved; farming for him.

I didn’t think much of this co-dependence until Shelly and I were emailing during the week Matt was gone.

Me: I got an email from Matt this morning! He hasn’t fallen overboard!

Shelly: YAY! How the heck is he playing Farmville or whatever on that boat?

Me: That would be his girlfriend farming for him.  And playing Petville for him

Shelly: LMAO. You’re kidding me?!?

That was the moment it hit me. Is this not normal? Has this addiction gone too far? Is this like when an alcoholic puts brandy in their morning coffee thinking that it’s OK until someone gives them that concerned furrowed brow?

A wave of embarrassment flooded over me. An intense feeling of massive dork-dom. I knew something had to change. Something drastic. And so I gave myself a talking to and a hard look in the mirror and I changed.  For the better.

Oh, I still farmed for Matt with much pride at his glorious farm. I just stopped publishing anything that had to do with Farmville and therefore hiding all the evidence. You see, you can take the perception of the addict away but you can’t take the Farm girl off the Farm.

By the way, if any of you are on Facebook and farm, BE MY NEIGHBOR!  I only need 1 more neighbor to get the blue ribbon!

Welcome to 2010!  A great year for everyone.  I promise not to hog all the goodness from this year as I did for 2009.  Sorry about that.

The only problem with 2010 is January seems to be here again.  I asked Santa for one thing, only one thing the big guy had to deliver.  I simply wanted 2010 to forget about January and start on February first.  I must have been on the naughty list this year because I woke up yesterday to January.  It’s the month that won’t end.  A never ending month where we get sunlight for only two hours a day.  We have already had at least a week and a half of this month and yet the stupid calendar still shows January 2nd.  Forget advent calendars in December, we need one for this God forsaken month.  I totally deserve a little piece of chocolate for making it through yet another January day. 

It doesn’t help matters that my darling loving wonderful boyfriend is on a cruise IN THE BAHAMAS while I am stuck here in the frozen tundra.  (His close friend is getting married on the cruise and everything was planned and paid for before I came into the picture…I’m happy for him.  Really.  So.  Very.  Happy.)

It’s so *&$@(!&  cold that Wisconsin makes Siberia look downright balmy.  The high today is 4.  No I didn’t miss a digit.  Just 4 degrees. The high.

I had to take Ben outside because keeping a bored Ben inside the house for too long is like keeping 20 puppies held captive in a small closet filled with crystal glasses.  In the past couple days he has taken to making snow angels in our carpet and setting up a hockey rink in the living room.  His Star Wars Light Saber is the hockey stick with an old ping pong ball as the puck.  I’m going so completely insane that if school wasn’t starting again in a couple of days, you’d see an ad up on Craigslist for a 9 year old boy in the “Free For The Asking” section.  So my point, which I almost completely lost, is that we were out in the elements for maybe 20 minutes today and by the time we came back in my face, earlobes and toes were icicles.  Cabin fever much?

The only thing that is keeping me going in these first couple weeks of January (WHAT??! It’s still only the 2nd?  ARE YOU FRICKIN’ KIDDING ME!?)  is copious amounts of left over Christmas candy (I’m working on a petition so the FDA will give caramels a spot on the food pyramid) and Cupcake ‘10 bloggy conference that is coming up this weekend.  If candy, fellow awesome blogger ladies and Matt coming home with a kick ass tan doesn’t help, I’m a goner. 

So here’s to the new year!  To a great 2010!  To January!  And to not giving in and hibernating until April.

Winter: MOVE OVER Autumn! It’s MY turn now!

Autumn: Oh Winter, we go through this every year. Father Time has been very clear. The first day of You isn’t until December 21st and it’s only December 7th. I have a full two weeks left. You’ll get your turn soon enough.

Winter: Nope.  Now.  I’m bored.  Move over.  My turn.  Now! 

Autumn: Good cranberry sauce and gravy Winter, you are such a barbarian. Why can’t you be more like Spring and I? Sweet, sophisticated and short. Everyone loves us.

Winter: Summer and I think you stink.

Autumn: That’s lovely and so mature. Mother Nature truly has to teach you some manners.

Winter: Shut up. You are just a skinny stupid little season. I’m the biggest season. I’m BAD ASS!  Aww yeah.  And for the record, I can get out whenever I want.  I’m so busting through you and openin’ up my cold can of Whoop Ass. I’m gonna tear it up down there.  Oh and I can totally kick your ass too, Autumn.

Autumn: Has anyone ever told you you’re a pig?  You act like you were just created.  And seriously, where did you get that foul mouth of yours?  

Winter: From Summer.

Autumn: No wonder Mother Nature put Spring and I in between you two.  “Ooh look how HOT I can get.  Ooh look how COLD I can get and long I can last.”   Male seasons.  Never a good idea.

Winter: Whatever.  Hey, your Halloween is showing.

Autumn: You are mildly retarded, you know that.  What does that even mean? Did Father Time drop you on your head when you were a baby season?   Wait!  Where are you going?  Stop!  It’s not your time!  They aren’t ready for you, WINTER!  Stop it!  Hey! Ouch! That hurts! Get off me!

Winter:  As I said, I’m bored, it’s my turn and I’m outta here, Sista!  See ya later Fall-i-gator.

Autumn: MOTHER NATURE! Help! He’s getting out!  Son of a Jack O’ Lantern. Sorry everyone…I tried.

Winter: Whaddup world!  Here I am! 

Would ya take a look at dis! 

Awwww yeah.   God I’m gooooood!

Winter is officially in da hizouse!!!  BAM!

I’m goin’ Green here at Princess Mikkimoto and recycling a blog post I wrote last year.  Not only because we are in the midst of a blizzard here in Wisconsin, but mostly because writing this last December made my head explode.  I lost all creativity until Valentine’s day.  And I firmly believe, something that makes one’s head explode should be reused.

So I give you “‘Twas The Night Before A Snow Storm”:

Twas the night before a snow storm, when all through the city
Many a plan was canceled, which was such a pity.
The snow plows were waiting in the garages with care,
In hopes that Blizzard 2008 soon would be there.

The children were dusting and waxing their sleds,
While visions of a Snow Day danced in their heads.
With Ben in his jammies, and I on the ‘puter,
We sat and we waited, and couldn’t be cuter.

When on the TV there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my Facebook to see what was the matter.
Away to the living room I flew like a flash,
To watch the weather reporter with the really bad mustache.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a snow emergency in Madison. Oh my! Oh dear!
Eight inches! Nine inches! When would it stop?
I sure hoped the news anchor’s head would not pop!

With a little old snowflake, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment this storm made me sick.
More rapid than eagles my curses they came,
I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Goddammit! No More! You Son of a Bitch!
I Can’t Stand This Winter You Evil Old Witch!
Snow on the top of the porch! On the top of wall!
Now melt away! Melt away! Melt away all!”

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The hail and the ice. It was all of the proof.
As I looked out the window and saw the snow shine,
I went to the kitchen to pour some more wine.

The piles of snow came down in huge clumps,
With a realization of this storm, on the couch I did flump..
But my son was quite happy and had a big grin,
As he exclaimed to his mother, “Don’t worry, we’ll stay in!”

He put on his Santa hat and looked like an elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

I gave into the storm and turned on the fire,
While Ben continued to bound. Would this boy ever tire?
But soon he too was swayed by the notion and theory,
That there would be no school tomorrow, which made him so cheery.

So no homework was done and no lunch was prepared.
And for me, perhaps even work might be spared.
So Mother and Son exclaimed with all of their might,
“Happy Snow Day to all, and to all a good-night!”

3am Saturday

“Of course he has to be at the one friend’s house who lives 25 minutes away.”

“Too bad this wasn’t yesterday.  I could have stopped at Old Navy for some shopping.  Everyone needs a $5 fleece.  At 3 AM.”

“I better not get in an accident.  I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Actually, what the hell am I wearing?  Good lord.  I hope I don’t get stopped by the fashion police.  I’m in massive violation.  In fact, if I were walking down the street someone might give me $5 and point me in the direction of the nearest homeless shelter.”

“So this is what it feels like to be out past bar time.”

“Hey!  Taco Bell really IS open late.  I could so go for a Nacho Bell Grande.  Slight detour perhaps?”

“Thank God Matt and I didn’t pick last night to find our true calling as Rock Stars and therefore have to pick the child up in a cab.”

“I haven’t seen another car in the longest time.  This is so cool.  I bet this is what it’s like on the Autobahn.  Without any other cars and the fact that I’m only going 40 in a 55.  Oops.  At this rate I’ll get there by 4:30.”

“That was sweet of Matt to offer to come with me.  I should have taken him up on it.  I bet he would go to Taco Bell with me.”

“This kid better sleep until noon.”

The other day at work, while I was listening to my Madonna radio station on Pandora, Michael Jackson’s (ya know because he and Madonna were BFF’s) “Beat It” came on.

When we heard “don’t be a macho man…“  it got Josh and I talking. No one uses the word “Macho” anymore. Seriously when was the last time you heard someone described as “Macho”?

For those of you that are awesome-70’s-Lingo impaired, Wikipedia describes “macho” as “A person who is overtly masculine, hence the Spanish word Machismo”

This word is truly fantastic but has sadly fallen by the vocab wayside.

Therefore, just like Justin Timberlake brought “sexy” back, I’m bringing “macho” back.

It’s going to be all the rage. I can see it now! Tween’s all over will be describing the hottest guy at school as “Macho!” Rappers will be saying their new hot ride is so “macho!” The cell phone airwaves will be flooded with text messages saying “U R 2 Macho 4 me”. Applebee’s greatest new appetizer will be the “Macho Nacho”. I might even change my name to Princess Mikkimacho? I think I’m going to make David Hasselhoff the poster boy for this retro word.  Because really what’s more “macho” that this hunk of burning love!?

Clearly I’m going to be very busy with this new campaign. In fact I’m now off to start the “macho” storm on Twitter.

Or perhaps I could work on getting a life and in turn, find something more meaningful to blog about next time.  Until then, sorry but those 2 minutes of your life that you spent reading this drivel are non-refundable.

How MACHO is that?

As I mentioned in yesterday’s Wordless Wednesday, President Obama came to Madison to give a speech on education at Wright Middle School.

To say this was a big deal to Madison is a giant understatement. Not only have we not had a sitting President visit our fine city in 59 years (since TRUMAN!) but Madison has a huge love affair with Obama. WE LOVE YOU OBAMA! See? I can’t even help it. It’s like a political turrets.

So when Wednesday morning came along and my very conservative, very Republican office mate turned to me and said, “Over lunch wanna go see Obama’s motorcade?” Not only did I fall over in shock but I said, as fast as I could so he couldn’t change his mind, “SURE!”

And that, my friends is how Josh and I, stood together in fine bi-partisan form on the street corner waiting eagerly for the President’s motorcade to go by.

It was so exciting! As each minute passed more people came out and the police presence increased. Soon there was a security helicopter flying overhead and police barricading the roads.

I called my parents to tell them to “GET DOWN HERE!” They were only one minute from getting to us when the police shut down the street they were on and they were stuck. However because all the drama was for Obama (wow, I just made that up on my own. Maybe I should be his new PR person…) they both thought it was still pretty cool.

I was on the phone with Matt when all of a sudden we saw police motorcycles and cars cruising down the empty street. “Oh my god! This is it! I gotta go!” I exclaimed as I hung up.

Only to have nothing follow.

My new friends next to me thought we were duped. “You know,” one woman explained, “They have a lot of different routes so maybe he went another way.” And when my mom sent a text saying that the police were letting them turn around and go home, my heart broke. Would there be no Obama for this Mama? (Man, there I go again! Damn I’m good!)

Until out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash. Seemingly out of no where came a flood of black cars with lights flashing. “THIS IS IT!”

Honestly the cars, limos with flags (there were two) motorcycles, SUV’s, vans and an ambulance came so fast I sort of lost my mind. I became that crazy lady who was waving her arms at all the cars at once and yet not seeing a thing.

After they passed as I was still standing there mouth agape and dumb struck, the woman next to me said, “Wow! HE WAVED! Obama waved at us!”

Wha? He did? Um, what? You saw him? Oh yeah, ah, I mean me too.

Josh didn’t see him either but we both decided on our way back to the office that we were close enough and even if we didn’t see him wave at us, he still did. You know, the whole tree in the forest thing…

And that, second to being a 6th grader at Wright, was good enough for me.

(pictures courtesy of Josh’s camera…)

Last Monday was Matt’s birthday and since this was the first birthday we had together, I wanted to make it extra special.  I couldn’t just get a boring store bought cake.  Oh no.  I had to show off my Mad Baking Skills, and let this guy fully appreciate just how lucky he is to have found moi. 

Because I am a true giver at heart, I couldn’t keep this creation a secret.  Therefore I give you to a step by step recipe for how to make The Best Birthday Cake ever!  No need for thanks.  If you would like a printed copy, feel free to email me directly.

***********
Step 1) Prepare your cake according to your late grandmother’s super secret hand written recipe card the box directions.  Make sure to start this project at the very last minute.  Even though you have all weekend, wait until 9pm on Sunday night.

Step 2) When the two rounds are done baking, take them out of the oven and curse loudly when you realize that you have to wait for the cakes to cool COMPLETELY before you can begin frosting.

Step 3) Pace around the kitchen willing your still very warm cake to cool.

Step 4) Think seriously about putting the cake in the freezer for a few minutes.

Step 5) Get a grip and go play Farmville on Facebook.

Step 6) After an hour march back into the kitchen and say out loud, “Ah screw it, this cake is totally cool.”

Step 7) Take the first round out of the cake pan.  While putting it on the cake plate try to ignore the fact that one side defects from the rest of the cake and falls off.  Say something to the effect of “Oh my.  Hmmm, umm…” but reassure yourself you can “totally glue” it back with frosting.

Step”8″) Begin frosting layer one.  Similiar to Step 7, ignore the fact that the moment you even come close to the “hurt” spot, it begins to crumble even more.  Continue to tell yourself MORE frosting, when the other layer is added, will help.

Step 9) As if holding a bomb, C-A-R-E-F-U-L-L-Y put the top layer on.

Step 10) Frost both layers of the cake in one seamless motion, blending the two cakes together in a beautiful swirl form.

Beautiful!  It worked!

Step 11) Turn the cake around.

Oh. Dear.

Step 12) Add some snazzy sprinkles to the top of the cake in order to distract from the striking resemblance of the Grand Canyon on the other side.

Beautiful!  It worked!

Step 13) Turn the cake around.

Awkward.

Step 14) Realize it is now 11pm and there is nothing you can do at this late hour except for create diversion from the problem.

Step 15) Diversion created!

Step 16) Serve the cake the next day with a big smile, a rousing rendition of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and freakishly tall candles that when combined with the smart looking sign will dupe the receiver into thinking “You shouldn’t have.  No really.  You should not have.”

All rights reserved by Becky Crocker. 

In honor of this being one of the best summers I can remember, I am saying goodbye to my favorite season with as much gusto as a firework finale.

PLANS! BAM! WE HAVE PLANS! KAPOW! GO HERE! POW! GO THERE! POW!

For a girl who normally doesn’t travel that much, my addled brain thought it would be a great idea to do a Tri-State tour in these last few weeks of summer.  Sadly, my car doesn’t give me frequent flier miles.
Last weekend it was Minneapolis, tomorrow it’s Chicago and next weekend, for Labor Day, it’s Northern Wisconsin.

Don’t get me wrong, these are all very fun activities but sweet mother of Judea, a Saturday without two hours in a car would be interesting.

It’s not just the traveling.  I have literally been going for two weeks straight.  Ben and I haven’t been home before 8:30 pm for, well, so long I can’t remember.   In fact, last night, I was supposed to get together with TBFDE and some friends who wanted to meet this human who actually wants to DATE ME.

That was until this very mature, 37 year old, mother of one, found herself not playing in the sandbox very nicely.  In fact, rumor has it, she was throwing sand!

You see, yesterday over my lunch hour, with what felt like a vice around my temples, I tried to pack in at least three hours of errands into one and came dangerously close to tears when Doris, my friendly Walgreen’s cashier, said I couldn’t combine my coupons.

When a Walgreen’s employee makes the tears start to well up in your eyes an intervention is needed.  You have hit rock bottom.

Once in the safety of my car I said out loud (which is what the mentally insane are wont to do) “This is ridiculous, Becky.  Something has to give…”

So that’s how I cancelled plans with TBFDE (who rocks even more because not only did he totally understand, he was SWEET about it) told my friends they could meet the Mythical Creature Known As Matt later, picked up the boy from Camp Grandma and Grandpa, raced home and proceeded to lock ourselves in the apartment by 5:15.

It was heaven and just what I needed to recharge my batteries for Chicago (GO CUBS!), the start of school, the start of baseball and soccer fall season and the first meeting of TBFDE’s friends.

Yes this self induced “Time Out!” was quite necessary.  I needed to make sure things were kept at a “throwing-sand” level rather than escalating to the ”using-one’s-shovel-as-a-weapon” level.  That one is harder to explain.

I am a terrible person. I have so much to do including uploading pictures from “BlogHer Madison Style” and posting about it. And of course there is the ever growing pile of laundry and that pesky child of mine that needs to be fed. But I can’t help myself. I’m obsessed. Over a woman no less. She’s just so cute and feisty I can’t help myself.

I love me some Sally.

Have you met her before?

She has this Spa and you have to make sure to make all the customers happy. If you do that you make more money and with more money you can buy new things and with new things you can make customers happy who will then tip you more and… WHOA. Breathing is important.

Because in all true addictions you have to blame someone (right?) I blame this solely on Cousin Sister Amy. When she was here for Camp, she showed me this cute little app on her iPhone and said “Oh have you ever played ‘Sally Spa‘? You have to! It’s so much fun.”

Well then my mother just had to run out and get an iTouch. Because really the poor woman only has one desktop, two laptops, a Wii, and a palm so duh, of course she NEEDED an iTouch. And then once again that Amy girl had to open her big mouth and say, “Aunt Natalie, you have to add Sally Spa!”

My mother did, I played it once and that ladies and gentlemen was all she wrote. The fat lady sang loud and clear. I was hooked.

I found myself asking to go over to my parents house just so I could get my hands on “Mr. Touch.” I fought with my kid on who’s turn it was. Mature Parent of One? Your table is now available.

Because my poor poor mother had no time on her OWN new toy she suggested we buy and download the game on our PC’s. Which was pretty much like taking an alcoholic into an open bar with free booze that never closes.

And that is how, my dear friends, last night, after playing for, oh, I don’t know, one million hours I finally went to bed at one million o’clock with both hands and forearms in massive Carpal Tunnel pain. That’s the downside of being ambidextrous… I was switching between hands, depending on which one hurt less. Therefore this post has taken me 3.5 hours to write because I’m pecking it out with my chin. I have never been more envious of Jay Leno.

Like all obsessions I promise I’ll get a grip. But if I don’t answer your emails, don’t play my turn on Lexulous or don’t come to the door when you knock, it’s because I have 5 customers who are waiting to get into the sauna and don’t even get me started on how many are waiting to check out!!!