The Girl of 100 Lists

I am the girl of 100 lists.
Fom what shall I wear to who I have kissed.
Check patterns off, let nothing be missed.
Sing I to myself and my 100 lists.



Like many girls my age, I learned everything I needed to know about life from Belinda Carlisle. Take fabulous vacations! Waterski! Learn to lip-synch better! Those irrepressible Go-Go's; they got so much done in a day! And you know why, don't you? Because they made lists.

I do declare... I am the Girl of 100 Lists! Every morning to help me get crackin', I drink some wonderful coffee and prepare the List Du Jour. Lists help me stay organized and feel successful. I like to use paper that has lines and a comfortable pen. Sometimes I try to match my little pen to my coffee cup, even though it's very distracting and counterproductive to getting actual things accomplished. Still, it's fun and extremely adorable.

Sure, there are days when the list can be pretty tedious. Other days, challenges are everywhere! Occasionally, I put stuff on my list that is already happening, so I get to cross it off right away. When I make my lists, it's like I'm saying to the world, "Hey, World, look at me! I am MAKING a list!" It's THAT powerful a feeling.

Lots of successful people make lists. Santa Claus. Led Zeppelin. God. And me!

Look! On the Horizon, the Ginger Zebra!

Hey, remember when this used to be an art blog? I know, I barely do either. And that's just a shame, because I make cool stuff when I set my mind to it. Uckh! I disgust myself! Well, not really, but I do need to be tougher on my creative side. There's at least five projects upstairs that I have no issues with; I should finish them. Here's three oldies, but goodies that deserve a second chance.
1. Swingin', Smokin' 2. Fairy Girl 3. Pilfering Pooch There's also a new guy; he's pretty big and super sweet (30" x 40").
4. Ginger Zebra Now that they're up on the blog, I really should address their completion. There, I feel better already!

Clinker!

It has been 2012 for a little more than a week now. The new year fits so nice and snug, thus far, like a glove. I have some practical goals; they are quite reasonable. Grow hair, check! Make new friends, check! Keep up with old friends, check! Continue being excellent, check! Remind Dad to shave regularly, check! Get Dave to paint stuff and make home improvements, check! Let's see, what else can I do? Hmm. Something bossy that involves the kids...

I've got it! Piano lessons! What a great idea. I will pay good money to a brilliant musical mentor who can help the boys develop some creative talent. Hopefully, they can learn at the feet of a chain-smoking master, as I did. I wonder where in the Queen City I can find that unique individual who not only provides piano instruction, but also fixes broken stoves and small appliances in the basement of his modest two-family home... I know, it's a tall order. The Bronx is pretty far away, and so is the past. Tommy Carr's shop is long gone from Crosby Avenue, I bet. But hey, we still love music. And we do have that piano. By jove, I will teach them myself!

Sure, learning how to play an instrument is torturous monotony for children, but so is almost everything when you're young (and definitely, when you're Desmond). Of course, there will be lots of yelling and sobbing. No big deal. There's plenty of that most days, anyway. Might as well do something productive while we're making all that racket!

No Need to Be Coy, Roy...

Boy, Christmas break lasts a long time in these here parts. Sixteen days and evenings of festive delicacies (pigs-in-blankets for breakfast, yay!), holiday films and family fun.

Well, thank God that's over! We usually start pretty strong; I'm always gung-ho for the mother and child reunion. They're just a couple of sweet kids, after all. But two weeks? C'mon! If you're smart, you'll start squirrelling away some monies for Summer Camp, post haste. Don't be caught short, come the end of May. It's in your own best interest that you enlist the assistance of some professional camp counselling teenagers to help stave off those icky summertime blues. Life is long, especially in July.

So let's everybody start off this brand new year on the right foot, and get back on that bus!

I'm a Believer!

I think these boys are just about done believing in Santa Claus. Sniff. We did have a nice long run, though. Desmond jumped ship sometime during the year, when I botched a critical tooth fairy event. Now, he is much more of a realist. And at least, he's not trying to bum the other guy out. Rory's playing it pretty close to the vest, as well. That's always the safe bet. He saw a sign in the neighborhood for Cookies with Santa - December 18. He asked if we could go; he does love cookies. I told him I thought it was something geared more toward the younger kids - a photo opportunity with a professional stunt Santa. His face looked sad, like he already knew too much. But he took it well. They still cobbled their lists together, and we mailed them to the North Pole. The letters themselves were more clinical and straightforward than in previous years. Less chatty, no artwork.

Dave did threaten to call Santa on his cell phone a couple weeks back. Neither of them even flinched. That tactic used to work wonders when they were toddlers! They'd be all tearful and blotchy, begging for just one more chance to straighten up. I felt so bad for my husband. The moment he said it, we both realized that his power was gone, and I may never look at him in the same way.

So, I guess this year is more for David and myself. We still hide the gifts in a closet and wrap them when the boys have gone to sleep. I'll arrange them under the tree on Christmas Eve and fill the stockings. Then I'll stage the break-in. I like to leave a few little things at the foot of their beds, suggesting that Santa actually came upstairs to check on them in the night. (Tracking mud through my house with his work boots, right.) I'll nervously nibble on two cookies and half of a carrot, crumple up the napkin and pour the milk down the sink.

We always have alot of great things to be thankful for; this year, especially. We haven't been able to figure out the fireplace in this new house yet, but who cares? It's 70 degrees, most days. I truly love the holidays, more now than I ever did when I was a kid. Merry Christmas, everybody!

And In This Corner...

Rory Malcolm has never been the type to back down from a fight, but some stuff just ain't worth it. Take the altercation he had on Tuesday morning with some troublesome school furniture. Everybody was lining up for lunch, minding their own business, our man included. From out of nowhere comes this student desk chair. Clearly a superior opponent, all chrome and sharp edges. Especially for a tomato can like RM. Leading with the face, as usual. Ouch! After they revived him, some volunteers brought the injured party and his cream cheese sandwich into the nurse's office. It must have really hurt; he was crying all over his baggie filled with ice cubes when I signed him out for the rest of the day. A brief leave of absence, due to an unsightly shiner and mild to mid-level embarrassment. Talk about getting your bell rung.

Conquering Christmas Clutter

There are very few secrets to a beautiful artificial Christmas tree. I'm going to tell you what they are because I made them up, and they are true.

Secret #1. Fake trees are dormant for a big portion of the calendar year. Considerable fluffing up of the branches is required. The bigger the tree, the more fluffing is necessary. Get your spouse or an underpaid stage hand to assist you with this crucial holiday effort. If he or she is taller than you, remind them that they should just WANT to help because of their size and the length of their arms. "One's charitable nature is directly proportionate to his or her height." This is a really great quote that Dave just made it up. Feel free to use it, if you like, in order to encourage some assistance from the people just sitting around your house, watching you work. If those squooshed limbs are not unflattened properly, you might as well just leave your tree wrapped in its plastic body bag, leaning against the darkest corner of the garage (where the spiders live - Eek!).

Secret #2. Something festive must be hung from every branch! And I mean EVERY branch! If you run out of Christmas ornaments, start looking through the drawers in the kitchen for stuff. Tell the kids to empty their pockets. Get it all up there! You can stop decorating only when your Christmas tree is positively lousy with ornaments! Once you've completed these two important procedures, step back and admire your efforts. And now, for the piece de resistance. Tada! Okay, take a closer look. Closer. Beauty is, after all, highly subjective.

Little Boy Blue

Some Sunday nights after dinner, Rory will get tearful. He is sad that the weekend is almost over. In between sniffs, he will sob about the torture of his education, the unholy length of each school day and his concern for my welfare in his absence. I allow the waterworks for a few brief moments, if only because I'm pretty sure I used to feel that way from time to time, leaving my own mother when I was little. Even though she was rough and did a ton of hollering, I loved her. This little vagary of his makes me think of just how much I miss my mom, so I pull my youngest boy close for a minute or two.

I remind Big Bunny that second grade is his job, home schooling is not an option, and I will be just fine while he is away. If he persists with the tears, he must go and fetch a tissue, blow his own nose and pull it together. Learning how to comfort yourself is just part of growing up.

Paranoia, the Destroyer

Once all the Halloween swag has been carefully inventoried and catalogued, you really need to ask first before you go eating a guy's Nerds Rope. Even if it's twelve days later and Trick or Treat is already forgotten, don't do it. Even if you found the half-eaten package discarded in the back of the car, DO NOT eat their Nerds Rope! They will never forgive you. And now they're gonna be watching you very, very carefully. Feeling guilty, feeling scared. Hidden cameras everywhere, Stop! Stay in control! I mean, it could just be your imagination...But it's probably not. You really just need to get your own candy.

The Pit and the Pendulum

There's a big test today on telling time. I hope Little Bro does okay. We're still kinda shakey on which hand does what, for how long and why. It's so confusing, and our man on campus is easily turned around. Maybe once you actually start wearing a watch, you take time much more seriously.I told Brother that Santa Claus could bring him a nice one for Christmas, but if it means he's gotta sacrifice games and toys from his wish list... Let's just say, he's not feeling it.

What a cinch it would be to simply gaze at the constellations in the sky and figure out that it's almost bedtime. But these facts are important things to learn and know. Otherwise, you're gonna miss all the best shows, like Dude, What Would Happen? (on Cartoon Network, Wednesday nights at 8pm/7 Central). You gotta watch it!Dude, how else are you gonna find out what would happen if you tied 375 helium-filled balloons to a sumo wrestler? Did you see that episode? It was completely bananas! Or how about what would happen if the guys challenged a great big lumberjack to a lunchmeat chop-off? You'd be surprised at the results!

And just how are you gonna cook your own Hot Pockets someday? Or figure out when church is over (ugh!) You could end up burning your mouth or worse yet, going straight to H-E-double hockey sticks.

Besides, all the coolest jobs require that you know time pretty good. Like racecar drivers... and ninjas... and the guys who work at the bakery (they are so lucky!)So, off he went to school this morning, confident and filled with time-related knowledge, after a somewhat misguided attempt to slurp down his cereal with a green crazy straw. Go get 'em, Rory Boy! And remember the immortal words of one of Dublin's fondest intellectuals, Oscar Wilde. "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars!"