Tomorrow I’m interviewing Ford Group VP of Sustainability, Environment and Safety Engineering Susan Cischke – leave your quesiton for her in the comments of my BlogHer post and I’ll ask it- time permitting.
Here Fishy Fishy…heeerreee Fishy Fishy…
December 15, 2008 by 7 Comments
We may or may not be the wards of several fish this holiday break- courtesy of the charter school’s kindergarten class.
Immediately the jokes began about how long it would take me to kill the class pet, because I have a bit of a track record with fish.
I maybe, kinda, sorta, inadvertently boiled our last one.
On accident.
Poor fishy resided in a nice bowl on top of our mantel in our old home. Months went by, and fishy was a happy swimmy member of the family. Then the cold months began and like I did in that house every time it got cold, I flipped a switch and the gas fire place went ‘poof” and we were all warm and toasty.
Including fishy. On the mantel.
Mmmmmm, dinner.
Now mind you this fish belonged to us and only us…not an entire crew of 5 & 6-year olds who will no doubt need therapy if I kill their class pet.
…but as it turns out, many of YOU have already killed class pets. LOTS OF THEM. Early today I twittered about the prospect of becoming foster-fish parents and you people came out of the woodwork to tell me your class pet stories.
Oopsie (who has the cutest Etsy shop) says, “After the Class Pet spent the week at our house, they opted for a stuffed animal class pet. No lie.”
The Smart Mama tells me, “Have killed class pet before. Trust me – they do NOT notice replacement fish – just make sure your kid doesn’t know either…And, by the way, my mom killed class hamster – nobody noticed the replacement hamster either.”
HawaiiReality cracked me up, “Girl, My cat ate gerbil I brought home.Parents got replacmt.Iwas scaredclass wood b able 2 tell difference.But they couldnt”
And although this pet didn’t die…I’m still laughing over the message I got from Josh, “3rd grd-brought class hamster home for xmas. disappeared that night for two weeks. Day before school starts – hamster alive in sock drawer”
I’m confident I can keep the class fish alive. CONFIDENT. Why?
No more gas fireplace.
Plus I think I’m going to set up a webcam on the tank so Twitter can warn me if any of them seem to be going belly up.
Zombies Make Me Pee My Pants
December 15, 2008 by 12 Comments
Like an idiot I did not question my husband’s choice of tv stations tonight.
Goofing around on my computer and not paying attention I Am Legend with Will Smith started and before I could protest, I was magically sucked in.
Of course I had no idea this was a zombie movie and at first it was nothing but a paranoid, gun-toting Will Smith and a dog roaming around deserted NYC.
Had I known there were zombies involved I would have had my husband change the channel immediately and demanded something of a more ‘no drama, happy ending, unicorns and rainbows’ nature.
Here’s the thing: I am the biggest pansy alive when it comes to scary movies. The biggest. I don’t even like really heavy dramas, either. But…that’s besides the point.
The point is scary movies, even REALLY BAD ONES, scar me emotionally and physically to the point where I will vomit. Or pee my pants.
Tonight some zombie woman jumped off some medical table to eat Will Smith and I peed my pants. I then turned off the tv. Of course I couldn’t stop thinking about the zombie woman or Will Smith’s cute dog (who apparently does not meet a good end from what I hear, FYI) and I had more than a hard time going into our garage to turn off Christmas lights and sprinklers.
I’m not kidding.
What’s worse? I’m 100% sure I passed this lovely trait onto my son. Who can’t even bring himself to watch the drama filled parts of a Spongebob espisode if Mr. Krabs is about to yell at Mr. Squarepants. My 5-year-old will leave the room when the AirBud parents get kidnapped. He will make an excuse to walk into the kitchen when the Beast growls at Belle.
He gets this from me. And I totally feel his pain.
Even my adult brain understands zombies are not real and they do not live in the dark of my garage…yet I still can’t go out there right now to shut off lights. So as much as I tell my son it’s ok, not to worry, the Beast really turns out to be a swell guy- I know he’s not buying it, I wouldn’t either.
Zombies live in my garage, why should I?
This Is My Grandfather, the AutoWorker
December 11, 2008 by 24 Comments
Tonight the Senate did not see fit to take care of autoworkers. They’d rather union bust and hand out money to companies like AIG, so they can take spa retreats and give out golden parachutes.
They’d rather watch Detroit fall further and further and watch Michigan’s unemployment rate go higher and higher.
For Wall St. they asked few questions and wrote larger checks. For Main St. they demand concessions and czars and oversight.
Pensions and health care and worker protection were demonized all in the name of business. The pension that keeps people like my grandfather able to pay for care in their golden years. The health care that most Americans would work their asses off for. The worker protection no one has anymore, but sure could use in this day and age.
Tonight my government could have helped and impacted those who don’t wear suits and instead will leave them out in the cold.
Tonight the missteps of an industry were held up as a symbol of the free market and it’s workers thrown to the wolves despite GOP Senators welcoming foreign counterparts with open arms in the South.
Tonight we told American workers they mattered less than the 100% Japanese government funding of plants in our states.
I’m not one for bailouts. I’m not one to always scream ‘BUY AMERICAN.’
But I am one who supports local jobs, local manufacturing, and local indstury.
I also support the need for unions in a world of WalMarts.
Tonight I stand shoulder to shoulder with American workers and hope we weather the storm to come.
For My Birthday
December 10, 2008 by 14 Comments
Santa Claus: Monster or Mercenary?
December 8, 2008 by 7 Comments
My kids are scared shitless of Santa.
Ok, maybe scared isn’t the right word. They can’t look at him, or talk to him, or go anywhere near him. But it’s not clear if they are scared or OVERWHELMED BY HIS GLORY.
This means, aside from one photo when my son was 9-months old and I hadn’t thought through the chaos, my children have no pictures with Santa.
So when I see articles over at BlogHer like Laurie’s…I have to laugh and shake my head at other parents who are fine with torturing their children year after year after year. Don’t get me wrong, I can be a pretty stupid Mother (or ‘Mudder’ as my daughter has taken to calling me) on some things here and there, but I just can’t imagine forcing my crying and scared to death kid into the lap of some large, red stranger.
Do you really need that photo THAT badly? I don’t. And as much as I wanted my kids to pose with characters at Disney, I certainly wasn’t going to shove them forward if they didn’t want to.
No, instead I shove my husband, because he’ll shake his ass with Stitch on behalf of his children anyday.
I Think We Had A Gremlin Once Too
December 5, 2008 by 9 Comments
Formality
December 3, 2008 by 6 Comments
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