On a cold snowy Sunday morning, a mother got out of bed and was about to go brush her teeth when she heard the sleepy crackled voice of her young boy saying, “No Mommy.  Come snuggle with me.”   Even though her teeth were screaming to be brushed, Superman himself couldn’t have walked away from the sweet boy and the warm bed.

So in she climbed and snuggled close. 

“Mom, I had some really weird dreams last night.”  The boy said with a far off look.

“Ooh I did too!  You tell me yours first!”

And off the boy went, describing with much seriousness and attention to detail, every aspect of his dream. 

The mother realized that normally there is nothing more boring on this earth to her than listening to another’s dream.  Some one else’s scatological thoughts in the unconscious mind no less, are sure to be painfully dull.

But on this morning, at this time, there was nothing else the mother wanted to do than to hear what happened next in this boy’s caveman dream.

At the end of his monologue, he looked at his mom and said, “OK now what were your dreams about?”  And not only did he hang on to every word of the mother’s nonsensical dream, he even asked follow up questions. 

As the boy and the mother were finally up and brushing their teeth, the mother reflected what a sweet moment that was.  It doesn’t always have to be the big grandiose things. 

The morale of this story is that right now, while we are in the throws of the holiday season, stop and listen to your loved ones.  Go back to bed and just listen. 

I guarantee they will remember that way more than how clean the kitchen floor is, how even the lights on the tree are or how you stayed up until midnight making twelve different types of Christmas cookies.

If there is an Aldi’s grocery store in your area, and you haven’t been yet, please stop reading this and GO! 

Welcome back!  Wasn’t that awesome!?

For those of you that aren’t lucky enough to have an Aldi’s in your area, allow me to explain the bizarreness and fabulousness that is this 8th wonder of the world.  Ever wondered what it would be like to sell groceries at your garage sale?  Well, welcome to Aldi’s. 

First, you can’t just GET a cart.  No sir-ree!  That is reserved for those FANCY stores.  At Aldi’s, even though the ghetto is a good 20 miles away, you have to rent a cart for $.25.  Yes.  For real.

Saldy, since they don’t give you a handbook upon entering for your cherry voyage, I didn’t understand this concept until my son, on our 3rd trip there, figured it out. 
“Mom!  You put a quarter in here, and then the cart comes out.  And when we’re done, you put the cart back and it spits out your quarter.” 
FANTASTIC!

Aside from the carts on rent, the prices at Aldi’s are ridiculous.  They are easily 50% less than a normal grocery store.  They sometimes have brand names but more often than not, it’s some random Aldi’s brand.  Which really doesn’t matter because Ben and I can’t taste the difference in the cereal, chips, milk, yogurt, etc. 

All the food is in a very garage sale like setting.   Actually “setting” is too serious a term for their displays.  It’s more:
“Frank, I gots a new box of Cocoa Rice.” 
“Great Bob, just ah, open it up dere.  The folks can just get it out of dat box.  No need to actually take ‘er out of da big box.  Dat might make our prices go up.”

One of the other rockin’ things about Aldi’s is not only do they NOT bag for you, they don’t even HAVE bags.  You either have to bring your own (so environmentally friendly) or buy one for a nickel.   Ben and I have had many a fit of laughter while we tried to juggle our groceries sans cart or bag.  

When checking out they literally throw all your stuff in an empty cart which you take over to the side to bag up yourself.  You know you have hit Aldi’s royalty if the checker 1) makes eye contact with you and 2) tells you your total.  Otherwise you just have to look and figure it out yourself.  Oh and please don’t even think about using a credit card.  They only take cash and debit.

See?  Cheap prices + laughing + good food = happy people.

So last week over lunch, I stopped tp pick up some staples.   As I was walking in, a woman who was on her way to return her cart said, “Do you need a cart?” 

“Sure.  Thank you!” I said as I tried to hand her a quarter.

“No.  Keep it.”  she said.

“Thanks again!” I said as I happily walked into the store with a little spring in my step, plotting what awesome things I would do with my new twenty five cent fortune.

Once I had all my goodies, I got in line behind a nice woman, who even though she was struggling with her lot of food and her three year old, made room for me and found me one of those separator thingys.  

While I was putting my food on the conveyor belt, I overheard the guy behind me saying to an older gentlemen, “That’s all you have?  By all means, go ahead.” and ushered him forward.  Since such a beautiful lass as myself couldn’t possibly be without a man, this older guy thought we were together and reached over me to put his one box of cornflakes in front of my stuff.    Of course I didn’t say anything because this was a grocery store clearly full of love and magic and I wasn’t about to break that spell. 

Right as I was walking my cart, full of paid groceries, over to the side to pack them all up in my one sad little plastic bag, a woman came in with a ton of paper bags for people to have and use.   Again… FANTASTIC!

While I was about to put my cart away, after feeling the generosity of my fellow Aldi’s shoppers, I began to feel guilty for just taking my $.25 pot of gold.  Until what to my wondrous eyes should appear but a woman walking up towards the carts!

“Do you need a cart?”  I asked eagerly.

“Oh.  Yes.  Thank you!”  she said as she tried to hand me a quarter.

“No.  Keep it.”  I said.  “Some woman gave me this cart to use and now I’m giving it to you.  Maybe when you are done you’ll give it to someone else.  We’ll see how long we can keep this going.”

She laughed and said “Thank you!  I’ll do that…”  And off she walked into the glory that is Aldi’s.

It may not be much, but these strangers and their random acts of kindness in a discount grocery store, threw some sun on my otherwise very rainy, non eventful Wednesday.

Change is a funny thing.  I used to be a firm believer that people didn’t really change.  We were who we were and that was that.   You played with the cards life dealt you. 

That was until it was ME that wanted to change.  Until it was me that WAS changing.  Until a dear friend said “Maybe you weren’t ready before.  Now you are.”

Without going into all the gory details, because god knows that laundry doesn’t need to be aired out for all, let’s just say I’m looking forward to a much simpler, much less stressful, happy life. 

And I realized just the other day, that without my even knowing it, my outsides had begun to match my insides.

Almost a year ago I went from being a very high maintenance blonde:

Back to my natural color:

Minus touch-ups for the gray that pushes it’s insistent self through.  Which to me, ISN’T natural.  How can a 22 year old go gray???

In addition, the other major change as of late is my nails went from these claws:

to these…

Sorry for making those of who have known me for my entire adult life pass out from the shock. 

You see, for the past 14 years (Yes, really. One. Four.) I have gone into the nail salon dutifully every two weeks.  Spending countless hours and countless cash for this upkeep. 

And then one day, a couple weeks ago, I literally couldn’t take it anymore.  It all of the sudden seemed so absurd and such a colossal pain in the ass.  I had this overwhelming feeling that I wanted them off.  That I needed THEM GONE.  NOW!  
And even though someone last Saturday night said, “What happened to your beautiful nails?  Last time I saw you they were so nice.”  I love this new part of me. 

Don’t worry my Minneapolis friends; I promise I haven’t turned into a total Madison Hippie.  I won’t start dating men who don’t shower and I won’t turn in my cotton for hemp.  I also won’t give up my heels for clogs…  Except, oops.  It might be a little too late for that one.

I know it’s not the end of 2008 and perhaps I should have saved all this great self reflection for a New Years Resolution.  But really?  Why wait?  Change is good.  It’s refreshing and hopeful.  And I’m happy.  I’m digging this new Mikkimoto. 

Just like my new weak baby nails that are finally seeing the light after being in the dark for more than a decade, we will both get stronger with time and cherish this new natural life. 

But um, if anyone has some good tips on how to get my rice paper consistency nails into something that resembles anything even remotely strong, PLEASE let me know. 

One day I’ll like to use my nails to scratch my head instead of the nearest utensil.

Today has the promise to be a historic day for this country.

Today I will stand in line, for however long it takes, to vote for the candidate that I believe in more than any other Presidential candidate I have ever voted for.

Today I will pretend to concentrate at work, but really won’t be able to.

Today I will eat my way through this very important and anxiety ridden day.

Today my son and I will spend the night at my parent’s house since there is no one else I would rather go through the election results with than my mother.  The woman who I called in the summer of 2004 while watching the Democratic National Convention and saying, “Who is this guy!? He’s amazing!!  HE should run for President.”

Today we will sit in her living room with our laptops, in front of the TV, nervous, hoping and weeping. 

Today you need to vote.  Regardless of your candidate. 

Today you need to exercise your right as an American citizen of this fine country and be engaged in our democratic process.

Today is a day I will not forget.

Today has the promise to be historic.

 Vote.

Today, over lunch, in an attempt to be less like a mongrel and more like a lady, I went to my salon to get my brows and lip waxed.  Because I am The Sensitive, my newly waxed skin, especially my lip, turns fire engine red after waxing.  But nothing a little make-up couldn’t cover and back to work I went.

I’m not sure if it’s the dry weather or my blood pumping harder than normal due to the massive frustration of my very conservative and VERY Republican co-worker, but no sooner did I get back from lunch then I got a bloody nose.

This, in and of itself is not a big deal as it happens to me frequently.  I guess not only is my skin sensitive but so are the innards of my nose.  
I didn’t think much of this because again, they happen all the time. 

However…
This one was bad.   

And the cleaning lady was in the bathroom. 

And it wouldn’t stop. 

When it did stop, I was happy. 

Until it started again.  

With more intensity than before.  As Josh was reading from the Internet on how to get nose bleeds to stop (very helpful… except I knew all this) in between Kleenex changes, I proceeded to bleed down the front of my shirt. 

And the cleaning lady was STILL in the bathroom.

When she was finally done, I ran in there as fast as myself and my box of Kleenex could get there.

I got the nose to stop, just to notice I was literally a mess.  I know its Halloween and all but a bloody shirt is not cool.  So I basically had to wash my shirt as it was on me with the theory that regardless of the time of year, wet beats out blood any day of the week. 

Oh and because this is MY LIFE, with my lip red from the waxing I looked like I had dried blood on my upper lip.

With a “bloody lip” and wet shirt, I came out of the bathroom feeling like a Super Model.  Really.  It’s a wonder I’m single. 

Fellas, the line starts to the left.

As promised, my mom and I went down to the Obama headquarters on Tuesday night to hand ourselves over for the cause.

As soon as we walked in, you could feel the energy in the room.  It was palpable.  If you lined up everyone that was there, I’m sure you would have had ages from 15 - 85.  Men and women.  Pick a color or creed, they were there.  With just a few weeks until this momentous election, we were all working for the same thing.   Watching all these people volunteering their time for Obama, gave me chills.  And a ridiculous perma-grin.

Mary was our volunteer coordinator.  And bless her heart but she had no business organizing this many people.  I had to literally sit on my hands and bite my tongue in order to fight the urge of taking her clip board out of her hands and yelling, “OK people!  THIS is how it’s going to work from now on…”   

Our first assignment was to call people who were already pegged as Obama supporters and wanting to volunteer.  It was a great way to ease into the phone banks.  My mom and I got such a kick out of the woman who was having hip surgery in the next couple weeks but still wanted to canvass on election day.  Or the woman who, when my mom called and introduced herself as working for the Obama campaign, exclaimed, “YES!  I have been waiting for you guys to call!  I will DRIVE people all day on election day.  Sign me up!”

Or my favorite, Ruth.  Ruth was 76 and told me she was so scared of what would happen if Obama didn’t win that she would make herself available anytime, doing anything. 

I found out later that one of the reasons the place was so crazy was because it was High School Night.  Yes, our young Americans who can’t even vote yet were volunteering their services. 

I sat at a table with three girls who couldn’t have been older than 15.  It took them half an hour to just get up the courage to make their first call, (in between texting their boyfriends and sharing the responses with each other…) which ended in fits of laughter on some poor person’s answering machine.  Thank god they were also calling supporters and not undecided voters.   Because I am who I am, and because we were working for HOPE, I couldn’t help myself and said to them, “Ladies, let’s pull it together.  This is for Obama… OK?”  
And what do you know but half an hour later, when the cute little thing in braces nailed it, I said, “See?  THERE you go!  Nice job!”  To which my mom, one table over, laughed out loud.

Once we finished those lists, Mary gave us just random people in Wisconsin to call and ask who they were supporting and if it was Obama then we would try to get them to volunteer.  Now these calls were FUN!  We were calling up north and as Forrest Gump so eloquently said, ”You never know whatcha gonna get.” 

I think my favorite was the guy who said “Mary?! This is Becky from the Obama campaign.  Want to talk to them about CHANGE?!??   Yeah, sorry Becks, she’s busy.  Thanks!”   Click.   Or the woman who said, “Um, my husband isn’t here but I’ll tell you…  he’s supporting McCain but I’m supporting Obama!” 

All in all, it was such a great experience.  At one point as I sat there, I thought,  ”If Michelle and Barack could see all these people, these strangers, jammed in this place, some on their cell phones because the headquarters ran out of land lines, all doing this in hopes of bringing back something to this country that has been missing for a very long time… wouldn’t their hearts swell?” 

I know mine did and I can’t wait to go back next week.

10.  After work on Friday, kiss the week goodbye and go to bed at nine.

9.  Saturday morning watch your kid’s soccer game on a beautiful fall day. 

8. At said game, scream like the Soccer Mom you are, hoping to make Sarah Palin proud.

7. Spend much of Saturday afternoon reading a book that is labeled as Teen Sci-Fi, thoroughly enjoy this guilty pleasure and not be embarrassed.

6. Saturday night, drop the kid off at the rents and meet your BFF out at a fun sports bar to watch Brewers baseball and Badger football.

5. Laugh so hard that night that your mouth literally hurts and all your eye make-up has been cried off.

4. Sunday, do not shower and do not get out of your pajamas.

3. Have a friend over for your son so you can spend copious amounts of time on Facebook without interruption.

2. After grocery shopping with the punk, have that overwhelming feeling of sheer joy that your fridge is now full of lunches and dinners for the entire next week. 

1. And finally, end the weekend with a pajama party (not hard since per step 4 you never got out of your p.j’s in the first place) with your cute son, while eating pizza, and watching AFV.   Make sure to remind the boy, who is laughing so hard at the guy who got knocked in the crotch with a baseball bat, to breathe.

If this doesn’t fix the woes of a REALLY bad week, I’m not sure what will.

Did this past week really just happen?

It was, without a doubt, the weirdest, most emotionally up and down week I have had in a long time.  Years even!  I won’t say “ever” because the week Ben was born, that was the weirdest week of all time.  “This baby is cute but um, when are his parents coming to get him?”

In the span of just a few days I saw the worst in people and the best in them. 
I saw horrible things that people will do to those they love and the absolute kindness of strangers.
The sheer insanity of the human race and the very sane.

Although it was exciting, I’m not sad to see this week end.  I’m sure my stomach isn’t either. 

And watching Sarah Palin last night with her “In-ur-gee”, her “Senator O’Biden” and all the “shout outs to those third graders in Alaska” was just the cherry on top of the lunacy that was this week.  

God forbid you ask that woman a question and actually want an answer. 

“Governor Palin, do you like apples or oranges?”
“Well I’ll tell ya, John McCain would say, and I’d agree, that chicken is not the way to go.”

Confusing right?  Yep.  That pretty much sums up my week.

Now that it’s all over, I need a nap and a big ol’ glass of wine. 

Um, actually I’ll take the whole bottle.  Thanks.

It’s been 7 years and I still remember that morning in 2001 like it was yesterday.
I was in my office talking to a friend about her brother-in-law who I had the biggest crush on.  He had just asked her for my number and I was on Cloud 9.   During our conversation, an employee of mine came in and said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York.  I waved it off because JIMWANTEDMYNUMBER!!!  And I thought this was just some small plane.  It was sad but no big deal, right?

Little did I know.

Since then, the date September 11th has always given me chills.   Whenever something is scheduled for 9/11, I give pause.
However, I feel the same no longer holds true for many out there.  No, I never lost anyone that I knew personally, nor have I even known anyone who knew someone who died on 9/11/01.  And for that I am fortunate.  

However, whether it’s time gone by, or perhaps because it became such a political issue where the Bad Guys were never caught, I feel like people are forgetting. 

There were many around the office yesterday who were just thinking that today is one step closer to Friday and a pay day.   There was no mention of what this day means to so many.  On Yahoo news, remembering 9/11 was a headline under Hally Berry and Jennifer Aniston.

But for me, I do remember.  And my heart goes out to all the familes and loved ones who are grieving today.

Lastly, for all those who say Liberals aren’t patriotic… I, for one, just got done eating my granola and hugging a tree before I wrote this post.  

As my grandfather used to say, “It’s my country too God-damnit!”

I have a headache.
And I am tired and hot.

OK I love summer.  Really I do, but sweet baby Jesus, why is it so friggin’ busy?!? 

Ben and I have had something every night this week and haven’t been home before 8:30pm since, well, I can’t remember when.  That might not seem late to the majority of America but when this girl likes to go to bed before 10, it’s late. 

There are coach-pitch games to go to, camp picnics and performances, and friends deciding its a good idea to move to Texas and therefore we must have the biggest going away party EVER!

In addition, could someone please tell me why ALL my friend’s parents decided to Get Jiggy With It in the fall of the 70’s, therefore giving birth to the majority of my friends in June, July and August?  

My laundry pile is so high I should get a warning flag for the top.  Just in case some small child might attempt to climb it they should be warned of altitude change and thinner air at the peak.

We desperately need groceries.  Currently in the fridge I have beer, Diet Coke, yogurt, olives and mustard.  Yum.  

My floor needs sweeping so badly.  When I finally get around to sweeping I’ll have a pile that will rival Mount Laundry.  Ooh, I could have a mountain range of crap in my house.  Tourists would come from all around the globe to see the 7th wonder of the world.  (Perhaps the sun has truly started to eat away my brain.) 

Also, guess what?  Eight year old boys don’t volunteer the fact that they need to bathe.  Shocking, right?  Tonight, I happened to run my hand through Ben’s hair and it got stuck in mid swipe.  Stuck.  As in it couldn’t move.  There was so much chlorine, sweat and bug spray that it would look like Marge Simpson’s hair if it was just a little longer. 

What ever happened to the lazy days of summer?  The images of floating down a river with a drink in hand?  Of swinging on a hammock?  Of no plans… just letting the day take you where it may?

Maybe I’ll devote this weekend to doing nothing!  Yeah.  I’ll do that right after Ben has a friend over, going to Art Fair on the Square, helping a friend move, and of course lots of pool time and grilling. 

Wait a minute… if summer equals just making time for the FUN things and doing NO housework or dreaded grocery shopping, then what the hell am I complaining about?!  YEAH BABY!  Bring on going to the pool, bring on the birthday parties, bring on baseball games! 
Bring on Summer! 
She’s my new BFF!