we like to help. so click, scroll, click. it's that easy.

A local credit union is having a Pay It Forward contest, where they gave away $10 to anybody who came into the credit union and made a video saying which charity they were giving their $10 to, and why.

TRANSLATION: Bank gives money to people who give it away and make movies.

please vote for video number four.

After all the videos were made, a supersecret panel decided on the top ten most compelling causes. Those ten videos have been posted HERE, and the credit union wants everybody to vote on the best video, which will win $1000.

TRANSLATION: Lots of people were not as interesting as 10 that were interesting and compelling, you get to choose who is best.

please vote for video number four.

As it happens, I know most of the people in the videos, and I'm also going to tell you who to vote for.

please vote for video number four.

Susan, who on a normal day I call Sue, but it's only been the last four or five years that I've been able to call her by her first name without being a little nervous because she was my ____th grade teacher, and in my head her first name is still Missus.

Sue has a real heart for the soldiers in the military. Her sister was in the military, maybe that's how she became involved in the first place. I don't know. But one of the ways she supports soldiers is by collecting golf balls.

Stop scratching your head.

please vote for video number four.

When they have time off, some of the soldiers like to play the Desert Driving Range. Except they can't go retrieve the balls because the area surrounding the bases are filled with land mines. Not superconducive for playing fetch.

please vote for video number four.

Sue collects golf balls and mails them to soldiers in Iraq. And that, my friends, is cool. And if all 135 of you that get me in a reader, and the 67 of you who follow my blog via the googles voted, that'd be 202 votes, and plus me, it's 203 votes, and maybe she would win.

please vote for video number four.

And that would be pretty cool. Thanks, y'all.

open letter to britax

Dear Britax,

MMMMMUUUUUAAAAAAHHHH.

That right there is a big, wet, sloppy kiss from me. I know, it's not always the best strategy to show one's hand like that before even speaking... It would be almost as awkward if I, say, bumped into Alton Brown and even before introducing myself and telling him I'm his new girlfriend because of the Baked Macaroni and Cheese recipe, started making out with him.

Mmmm.... macaroni and cheese.

I digress, Britax.

Last month, I was over at Steph's place, Adventures in Babywearing, because, well, she's flat-out lovely, that's why, and I commented on a post. And do you know what happened?

I won a Blink. In Cowmooflage. Randomly. And then? The UPS man actually brought it to my house! It was so exciting! I love the UPS man. (Not make-out love, I just foster a deep appreciation for him.)

I sliced open the box with a very sharp knife, because I live dangerously like that sometimes, and slid the stroller from the box. Without even reading the instruction manual, I assembled the stroller. And by assembled, I mean I put the two front wheels on and unfolded the stroller. Let me tell you, this is the first sign of an awesome stroller: being able to use it without an instruction manual. Because, Britax, I'm going to be honest with you. Sometimes? I'm a little dumb. And also? I have a teensy-weensy problem with spatial reasoning. Or maybe I have a really enormous problem with spatial reasoning? I'm really unclear about that.

Spatial reasoning aside, my 6.5 year old fits comfortably in the Blink. My 6.5 month old fits comfortably in the Blink. And also, he looks super cute on the Cowmooflage print when he has his cow-print BabyLegs on. Just saying.

Another reason I love this stroller? I can push it with one hand. Which is really useful for the times when we're walking to preschool and I have my vat o'morning coffee in one hand, and a backpack, and three other short people walking under my feet beside me. Maybe you'd consider including a handy-dandy coffee holder? But really, I'm not complaining, because I can chug sip and stroll, and that's really all I need in life.

I don't kick the back of the stroller when I walk, and I'm long-legged-ish. The basket under the seat is large enough to carry a J.J.Cole BundleMe, my wool wrap, two parasols from Chinatown in Philadelphia, my wallet, and Wee Man's and HB's winter coats. Good work, Britax.

I apologize for busting out with that sloppy kiss right at the beginning, but I just couldn't help myself. Thanks for the fabulous stroller. Thanks for supporting great bloggers like Stephanie Precourt. Thanks for designing a really useful, easy-to-use, totally slick-looking stroller.

All my love,
Your new girlfriend,
Pamela


PLEASE BE ADVISED: I won this stroller in a random giveaway, just like I said. There were no strings attached to the giveaway, meaning that neither was I required to, nor was it even suggested that I review this product. Also I was not asked to publicly make out with any employee of Britax. I wrote this post because the Britax Blink is a freaking fabulous stroller, and I would totally pay cash money for one of these. Also? The FTC can suck it.

monday mad lib

Today, we went to the _______(noun) farm. The field trip for _______ (boy's name) class was rescheduled, and we had to be there at _______ (terrible time of day to arrive anywhere when you have 4 children).

We woke up to find one half inch of ________ (noun) on the ground and trees. It was so ______ (adjective), I nearly _______ (verb) my ______(noun) off... and that was before I got out of my _________ (noun).

Lucky for me, and everyone else, I had made ________(food) in the crockpot so we could actually ________ (verb) breakfast before we left. Unlucky for me, I could only find one of my ________ (noun), and had to wear my faux-crocs.

We _______ (verb) to the farm very ________ (adverb) because we were _______ (adverb) late. As it turns out, I am not as _______ (adjective) as I thought; ________ (number) parents got there after us. Ha!

My _____ (male offspring) seems to be very ______ (adverb) with the other ________ (plural noun) in his class. They all shouted "_____!!!" (exclamation) when he ________ (verb) out of the ______ (vehicle).

Lucky for me, I remembered to bring my _________ (noun) so I could record the crazy _____ (noun) that is my _______ (plural noun). I _______ (verb) lots of ______ (plural noun) while they ________ (verb) in the snow and got their _______ (body part, plural) wet and cold.

Unlucky for me, the farmer had us _________ (verb) Red Delicious apples, which are on the same level as _______ (noun) in my book. Lucky for me, his wife let me dump our icky Red Delicious apples in the ________ (noun) for second-quality apples, and refill our _______ (noun, plural) with Macoun apples.

The best part? The farmer's wife makes these totally amazing cider _______ (noun) that are covered in ________ (noun) and are probably laced with some sort of addictive substance like _______ (noun). The next time we have any ______ (noun), I am putting _____ (noun) in my mini-cooper van and _______ (verb) to the apple farm and _______ at least 2 dozen of those bad boys. I will ______ (verb) them all and ______ (verb) them in cider, whilst the _______ (plural noun) wait in the minivan.

And now, the fun part!!! This is a contest. What you should do: Copy and paste my mad lib into the comments and ________ (verb) in the blanks. The person with the funniest version, and the person with the most accurate version will ______ (verb) a half-pint jar of ______ (fruit) butter, handmade by me. Why? you ask, and not just because my header told you to. Because it's Monday, and nothing spices up a Monday like cloves and cinnamon and turbinado sugar!

Be sure to leave your email address in the comments so I can contact you if you are the winner.

girl scout demographics, defined

Miss O joined The Brownies. For those of you who are unfamiliar with The Brownies, they are mini-Girl Scouts. I accompanied her, as I am wont to do, because I am That Sort Of Mama. You know, the kind who doesn't send her six year old daughter off to a brand new activity all by herself, but stays and makes a big freaking deal of it when her behavior goes all crazy.

Not that my daughter misbehaves. Ahem.

Wee Man is really struggling with this whole not-going-to-girl-scouts-thing, and Miss O and returned home just in time to hear this:

GIRL SCOUTS IS FOR GIRLS. YOU ARE A BOY. YOU CANNOT GO TO GIRL SCOUTS BECAUSE YOU DO NOT HAVE A VAGI.NA. WHEN YOU ARE OLDER YOU CAN GO TO BOYS WITH PEN.ISES SCOUTS. YOU MAY NOT GO TO GIRLS WITH VAG.INAS SCOUTS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS BOY WITH A PEN.IS WHO CANNOT EVER GO TO VAGI.NA GIRL SCOUTS?????

We'd been gone for an hour and a half. That must have been one long conversation.

my lifelong struggle.

So I have this problem. And who better to kvetch with than my friends of West Blogoslovakifornia? Nobody, that's who. I'm going to be honest with you, because I am pretty much honest, unlike my good pal WRH, who posits that all women are liars. And yes, I meant posits, not post-its, which are things, unlike posits which is cinnonamous with theorizes. Get with it.

Anyway.

I'm hairy.

Seriously. Hairy. And I'm pretty sure that's why my birth parents gave me up for adoption. And I'm also pretty sure that these people? Are my biological family.

The Hairy Face Family

Or maybe Ma Hairy Face had an affair with the Fire-Eating Lion Tamer, and was afraid that I would come out looking all smooth-skinned and clean shaven and whatnot, and Pa Hairy Face would find out and get all pissed off and, I don't know, clip her beard or something. The horror!

I remember in elementary school, we were attempting to playing basketball, and the pretty girl brushed up against me and squeed with shock at the sleek mink coat my forearms were wearing.

Ach, and my legs? I'm going to save you the regurgitive experience that is the detailed description of how 'zactly gross they were, just know this: shaving your legs is for when you're older. (As are contacts, small-framed glasses, calling boys, and staying up past 9:30. But clearly, I survived. And also? I shave now.)

I was on the Junior High Swim Team. It was all kinds of fun. I was a pretty decent swimmer, backstroke was my strong suit. We don't have poolside seating for spectators; there's a mezzanine overlooking the swimming pool, with big plexiglass windows to keep the humidity in (or out, depending on where you sit). The plexiglass was quite hard to see through, as it was covered in fingerprinty smudges, scratches, and condensation.

EVEN SO, my mother someone actually said to me: When did you start shaving your armpits? I noticed when you were swimming.

I was swimming backstroke, and from a hundred or so feet away, my mother AND THE ENTIRE WORLD could gaze upon my hairy armpits.

Excuse me whilst I go suck my thumb FOREVER.

In high school, I ran track for a while, and trust me, I use the word RUN very loosely. One time I got third place in the 800 or 1500 meter something or other, but only because the coach would not. shut. up. Moving on.

One of the local schools had, maybe still has, a very hairy coach. And I am not even kidding. I've created a high-quality illustration to make my point:

the other team's coach.

big brown dots = enormous quantity of hair.

yes, I think he had hair for feet.

and yes, locals, the color scheme just might be indicative of the team.

One look at that man changed my life forever. I began tweezing like a madwoman. I started shaving my arms. Yes, I said I shave my arms. Because there is no way I could continue to let the legacy of The Hairy Face Family pollute this beautiful earth we live on. My mother Someone said to me, You know once you start shaving your arms you'll never be able to stop because it will grow in thicker and more coarse and I replied THAT IS THE POINT. I WILL NEVER STOP. NEVER NEVER NEVEREVEREVEREVEREVER.

Uncle Lion Face, I'm sorry. I just can't.

Other random hairy relative, I believe there's a better way.

And to my biological mother, it's not that I don't appreciate what you've done for me. It's not that I'm really ashamed to associate with you, well, much, anyway. I just need to feel like a natural woman. And by natural, naturally I mean smooth and unhairy.

Because I can't grow up looking like grandma.

And I have to say unhairy, even though it's not a word, because oh my word, have you ever consulted The Googles about hai.ry wo.man in order to find pictures for a blog post about being hairy? I couldn't even read the first page or I would have gone straight to hell, no passing go, no $200.

randomness. you've been warned.

Sweets is the most adorable creature ever to roll over on the face of this earth. I breathe him in, and subsequently exhale butterflies and unicorns. I revel in his very existence.

I would, however, enjoy sleeping more than one and a half hours at a stretch.

****************

There was a class in college that wasn't really a for-credit class, but if you were a music ed major, you had to go or else things would get really ugly. I don't even remember what it was called, but every.last.music ed major had to go. Sometimes we'd play BAND, sometimes we'd play CHOIR, and sometimes we'd play ORCHESTRA. Upperclassmen would take turns conducting whichever pitiful ensemble we'd concocted; I say pitiful because nobody was honking away on their major instruments.

Once when it was my turn to conduct, I went up to the podium and waved my baton and picked on the flutes, and did the other band director-ish things one does when one stands upon a podium. I was thinking really hard, and as a filler, whilst wrapping up my thoughts in my head and starting to speak all at the same time, I would start my sentences by saying OKAY.

At the end of my turn, there was a little critique-by-peers session. One girl, a clarinet major named Linda, said, You keep saying 'okay'. Everything's not okay.

Three years later, she was found dead in her apartment. She had hung herself. Her words still ring in my ears.

***********

I made spaghetti sauce tonight from some of the tomatoes we canned. Today's version had onions, garlic, a green pepper, honey, thyme, oregano and basil. And also a really ridiculous amount of ground beef. I am craving beef like crazy. I will personally deliver a punch in the mouth to the person who asks if I'm pregnant.

**********

Wee Man and HB really enjoy preschool. HB tells us he HATES!!!!! IT!!!! but his teachers swear he plays and laughs and cavorts and does all the stuff normal, happy children do when they like school.

We are going on a field trip to the apple orchard tomorrow. This means: CIDER!!! and DONUTS!!!! And also a 75% chance of rain and a high wind warning. Which means 100% chance that I'll be wearing my knee-high black wellies with white polka dots, and long underwear.

**********

The Mister was named Employee of the Month at his workplace. So I bought him a slice of raspberry pie at the farmers' market today, and delivered it to said workplace to show my appreciation.

I was not named Employee of the Month at my workplace. So I bought myself a loaf of pizza bread at the farmers' market, and ate it on the way home from the farmers' market to show my appreciation.

************

I still have not seen the latest Harry Potter movie. And it grieves me.

********

That is all.

check me out

I made my very own header from scratch!