Hillcrest Elementary Alumni are NOT Over the Hill...and My New Plan for Junk Mail

I think I have finally recovered from the Way Back Machine girl weekend in Colorado, and I need to report back in for those of you waiting patiently with baited breath to hear all of the gory details.

All two of you.
(The short version involves mostly layer dip and wine.)

NO topless pillow fighting occurred.

The long version is a weekend remembering the awesomeness of friends you have had so long that they have become like cousins. We know each other's secrets, irritating habits and post-pubescent sexual experience, yet almost nothing about each other's present day to day lives. No matter, we love each other, and the years evaporate away as soon as we are all in the same room. In fact, I even caught two of them talking behind my back. Just like in 5th grade.

Nothing changes.

Being of legal age to drink IS something newer to our retro slumber party and we partook of many, MANY bottles of wine, margaritas MADE from wine, a few odd beers here and there and a mixed drink (someone just always has to be different). We didn't bother with restaurants, but noshed on crudites (look it up) I prepared lovingly...(wile many photographs were taken) with more wine, and some orgasmic Mexican layer dip made by a Gringo. I would share the recipe, but he says it has been in his family for WEEKS and he can't let it out.

I got nothin'..

There was definitely a "cutting
the cheese" remark here...

We discussed our career paths, children, marriages and which kind of Greek yogurt we prefer. We took exactly one hike (with roadies, def. #3) and someone overdid their roadie and wiped out hiking back down. (No injuries were reported.) Later, we tripped down to a bar just to break up the scenery and harassed the waiter while we watched the World Series.

It struck me several times throughout the weekend that through everything, each of us is still very much the same person as we were in our youth. I saw the same expressions, hand gestures (yes, that one too) and mannerisms I recognized from 30 years ago. Uncanny. The only thing we really are is older.

Miss Piggy, The Onion, The Doc and The Comedian

The last day in Way Back camp, we held our heads after a long and hilarious previous evening in the hot tub. All I can say is it was a DAMN GOOD THING that Winter Park was still in the off season and relatively empty or folks would have learned a little sum'pin, yo. We were in the tub so long, I may have developed a skin condition.

Brr! We assured our host friend that the tub would be warm
enough up there on the mountain....and not so much. The next
evening was hotter water and hotter conversation. And pruny fingers. 

We love each other.
We annoy each other.
We surprise each other.
We make each other laugh.
We keep each other's secrets.

Girlfriends are truly the best medicine, even when didn't realize you needed it.

In other breaking news....

I traveled again this week for a board meeting of the Wyoming Women's Foundation (please donate) as I am all about furthering women and girls in my state, yo. The younger Baboo hugged me upon return and asked "Are you going to stay home for a while NOW?".

Silly boy.
Of course not.

I cannot be stopped, you can only hope to contain me.

In need for a last  minute Halloween costume, Special Agent and I went almost as ourselves as an "under the influence Starlet and her Bodyguard". After a long drive across a big state, it wasn't tough to look like Lindsay Lohan's mug shot. Special Agent looked particularly dashing. We attended some friends' party and were (besides the host) the OLDEST ones there. Screw it. We played some Stray Cats on the Ipod and watched them scatter to the kitchen. Infants.

You can't see my prescription pill bottle or my
smeared makeup as well as I wish you could. I also skipped undies
in honor of celebrities who have bared it all unintentionally while
exiting the limo. Yes, I did! Prove I didn't....you can't. 

Still trying hard to get on my blog-ness and write something interesting. I will join some of the challenges again someday and try to make magic.

Some other things you may have missed while I was gone.

 - You no longer need TWO spaces after punctuation at the end of a sentence (this isn't new, but I am on a mission to stop). Originally intended to give a more visual break on a typewriter, they have gone the way of the Dodo...and Pluto. Good luck correcting this habit. I am in a 12 step program. Yes, I have to backtrack and remove spaces...a lot

 - Occupy Wall Street has been in the news a lot lately, but rather than standing in the cold getting a sore throat, occupy your mailbox and use this guy's tactic for telling big banking what you think of them...on their dime.

The Way Back Machine Weekend

I had the somewhat unusual advantage of starting kindergarten and graduating high school without ever leaving my school district.

No moving.
No new school.
I went from Elementary to Junior High to High School with all of the same group. Like a cult, but without plural marriage.

In first grade, I sealed the friend deal with several girls including twin, whose parents knew one another and therefore felt safe allowing all of us to attend birthday parties and eventually attend sleepovers at their house. Somehow, our group was named "the group". Not inventive, but it stuck. Not too many ever got in, and no one ever got out. Permanently, anyway.

My pals at the school track meet. We wore jeans and Twin and I
rocked the three-legged race. Go Panthers!

Twin and I in matching stripes at our birthday party with a
member of the fledgling "Group". Mandie is trying to steal
my Barbie. I am going to sock her in the chops. 

There were bumps...oh yeah. 4-6 elementary-aged girls is a perfect storm for drama and we had plenty over the years. Many a slumber party ended in disaster as we worked our way through 'girl'dom.

As we grew older toward Jr. High and High School, we made other friends, but the bond of this elementary school group never really disappeared. Even completely pissed at each other, even for years, the friendship remains.We're like cousins, all knowing everyone's background, embarrassing family crap, and that they used to stuff their bra.

Not really.

The friend ship may end if she learns
about these photos, so..
don't tell her.
(credit to Funky Jocata for these photos)

We all had our graduation reception together, grew up and eventually married The Navy Man, The Politician and The Business Mogul and Special Agent, respectively. Two work in the medical field, one is in education, and I am still finding myself. Everyone had two kids, one having a third. I am literally tripping down memory lane while I gather up some photos for this weekend when I plan to see them.

Special Agent being a BADASS back in the day.
We couldn't stand each other in high school, and then..
we got married. 

Me in high school, looking like I am dancing like George Michael in the Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go video. 

I love these girls like family and the reunion weekend in ON. I am sneaking off with some of them this very day to stay at one of the group's new ski chalet in Colorado (maybe it isn't a ski chalet, but that is what I am calling it the whole weekend).  I invited Twin, but she couldn't join us. She's scared.

While we all see each other off an on when they return to town, this group hasn't had a full on slumber party(there was never topless pillow fighting, grow up)  in about, ahem, 25 years...unless you count Senior Party, in which we had a kegger in a field and passed out in horse trailers with about 100 of our closest classmates. One of the group drank way too much and threw up in the trash can the next day during graduation practice. We were awfully proud of our DARE student and Class President. Way to go!

You know who you are.

Our plans for the weekend are showing our age. Our host is threatening to drag us to an Arbonne party at the neighbors the first night in. She promised wine. Arbonne does in fact make me look youthful, since I break out like a pubescent teenager whenever I go near it, so I may not partake. Luckily, I am comfortable to lay on the couch and watch TV while they go. With wine. The rest of the weekend will be filled with a winery tour (see a theme here?), maybe a spa trip and if we feel ambitious and the weather cooperates a mountain hike.

I am totally singing Rocky Mountain High...or at least as much of it as I know. Which is only "Rocky Mountain Hiiiiigh, Colorado". That should be enough for anyone.

Happy weekend!

Dr. Onion's Fishy Experiment in Self Diagnosis and Treatment

DISCLAIMER

 (If I had an attorney, he would suggest I do this, among other things)

 Although you may be inspired by this post, Do NOT try to remove your own appendix or perform your own rhinoplasty based upon what I hope are my positive results at self doctoring. This post in no way advocates the self diagnosis or treatment of you or others in your household. Don't even *THINK* of trying to sue me when your home amputation goes wrong. I'm rubber and you're glue, people. 

________________________________________________________________


I'm sick.


"Puny", as Mae would say. I won't die of it certainly, but I have felt better in my life.


I am no good at being sick. Some actually enjoy wearing pj's all day, sleeping for long hours interrupted and watching daytime TV. Some even enjoy going to the doctor, which I think.... Is. Weird.


The Onion is enjoys none of these.

The Onion is a bit of a whiny baby pissy pants when sick...

Luckily, I am almost NEVER sick. But today, I am the epitome of  "Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching, Stuffy Head, Fever -I can't rest" that the medicine ad proclaims me. 


They forgot crabby. 

After self-medicating with whatever I could find in our over the counter supply, including a night with Prince Nyquil, I stumbled across some antibiotics someone didn't finish (I know...don't judge). Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy headed-ness doesn't really bespeak antibiotics, but the popping ears and muted hearing sure does.


Yes, it does.


Why not? Threw a couple down my gullet. Amoxicillian. Relatively harmless.


Amazingly, I felt better that day. I continued to another dose and felt very smug that I had taken care of my own little self, and sniffed while I watched old DVR taped episodes of America's Next Top Model. 


(I loathe Tyra Banks. Is there a more narcissistic person in the world? And that's coming from a blogger.)


The problem was...I only had a few left. Like a junkie (on antibiotics?) I shook the bottle, counted to see how long it would last. Not long. 


This is the part where I have to admit that I am fortunate enough to have good insurance and plenty of money to go to a proper doctor. I also know that antibiotics are cheap, prescription-wise. The doctor who prescribes them just doesn't happen to be. I could go to the doctor. 


I just don't wanna. 


Since I was welded to the couch for days, I had a lot of time for workthe Internet. Just for fun, I looked up antibiotics to see if I could score some of my own and was terrified at the obvious overseas website designed to 'keep you healthy long time'


Um, no. Those could be sugar pills..or Drano. 


But, what also showed up were sites from your friendly American SURVIVALIST, and those folks have done their homework on everything from dehydrated meals to stockpiling ammo to...you guessed it, medical needs for when the apocalypse or whatever arrives. 

There was a lot of camo themed blogs and message strings about how to keep moisture out of gun powder and what not. I happened across some interesting information that prior to this couch-ridden day, I had not know before. 


1. Fish require antibiotics. 
2. Fish respond to the same antibiotics that humans respond to
3. The antibiotics that fish and humans take are made at the same pharmaceutical facilities
4. Fish antibiotics do not require a prescription.


Mom People, stop freaking out. I am a research nerd and I have spent hours researching this topic. HOURS. COUCH PARALYZED HOURS looking up the pros and cons, possible medical issues one could have and even the pharmaceutical companies which produce them. I was able to look up the fish antibiotics, take the code off of the pill capsule, and then search for it on the AARP's pill identifier. I was also able to take the code off of the pill to look up the pharmaceutical producer and identify the pills there again, and see a little info about the company. It is not driven toward pets, in fact it never mentions it as a market, go look! It is the real deal, and is located in the U.S. from what I can see.


(I also read the reviews on Amazon, not very scientific, but usually accurate.)


Of course I looked at the downside. I play fair.


The potential risks of ordering Fish antibiotics are this:
1. Allergic reaction
2. Utilizing the wrong antibiotic for the wrong ailment
3. Growing gills (KIDDING!)
4. Building a tolerance to antibiotics

To be fair, here is an article about the negative side of humans using veterinary medicines, but still only list allergic reaction as the most dangerous side effect to antibiotic use. Did I mention, i will not try to take feline-leukemia pills to get high? I won't. 


You know by now that I ordered myself some antibiotics. 100 250 mg amoxicillian capsules for around $20 with shipping. 


Stop freaking out. I have some commons sense. 


When the antibiotics arrived, I opened the container and used AARP pill identifier again. I looked it up on a few just because I'm thorough like that.  


Maybe some of you know that my Dad was not a rule follower and that bending the rules is commonplace...so I quickly utilized my same life theory to justify that I would not:


1. Suffer allergic reaction, since I have taken amoxicillian before. If I did, it would be no different than when the doctor prescribed me cyclines TWICE with minor issues. ('Cyclines are not for me, but 'Cillians...oh yeah)


2. That there are 1,000 hits on Google for what antibiotics are needed for which ailment available to me online, many from medical texts. 


3. I will not attempt to do anything further than treat minor ailments, not try to give myself an open heart surgery. 


4. I already avoid going to the doctor and do not like to take anything beyond Excedrin. If a natural course of antibiotics taken did not have the desired effect (wellness), I would see a doctor. If I were taking antibiotics for ailments more than 2 x in one year, I would need to see a doctor. 


Update: One week later


I am still alive.

In fact, I am much better. I took the fish antibiotics and..


I did not die. 
I did not become a survivalist
I did not grow gills
I am not making fish faces...much.

I believe they are the same antibiotics I would have gotten from my doctor. From a pharmaceutical company just like the one I bought them from. 


And, I feel better.


Nothing fishy about that. 

When Eating Healthy Fails

It's Fall.
I am a wonderful mother.
I feel like cooking.
I long to make delightful and healthy snacks for my family to enjoy.

And also, I have some black  over-ripe bananas on the counter that are starting to look like a science project.

Please...kill us...

I made some smashing gigantic banana muffins for camping in a new pan my pals bought be for my birthday and hit it out of the park with regard to deliciousness.

Crispy Corners Brownie Pan - Bed bath and Beyond

So of course, I can't find the recipe. 

And I suspect said recipe was laden with oil and sugar...and chocolate chunks. Chunks, not chips...you heard me. They were stellar and the campers descended upon them like a swarm of locusts. 

I looked for a new recipe that was both delicious and healthy so I could make my kids eat them for breakfast instead of cooking provide healthy snacks for my kids to take to school. Some had oats, walnuts, carrot, and flax seed. 

I had: flour, water, sugar, chocolate chips and some half dead bananas. 

I came across one that received good reviews so I whipped them up. The batter seemed thick, but I didn't worry too much - these were healthy and devoid of tragic substances like oil OR butter! I even used whole wheat flour I had hidden found in the back of the pantry. 

Guilt free goodness!!

I hummed while I worked, drank my tea and patted myself on the back when they practically LEAPT out of the crispy corners pan without effort. I sampled the fare and thought...........

Meh. 

Not bad, but certainly not the delicious camping goodness. They were heavy and a little dry. :-( Just then the baboos and their cousin rolled in, a-starve. I offered the muffins and they cheered, suspecting the return of the camping muffins. I hinted these were a little different, and then lay in wait to see the response. 

Meh. 

They ate them, but not exactly ravenously. They watched TV and merely consumed them, in slow bits. One didn't finish hers, and she always finishes hers...

I offered some butter, therefore RUINING the healthy aspect, but the group declined. And discarded their half eaten gigantic muffins on the coffee table as I wept. 

Muffin fail (cousin of muffin top, but that is another fail for another day).

What to do? Luckily, I made a DOUBLE batch of crap, so now what? Ah, Google, my dear friend. 

A few clicks and I was learning  more about simple syrup than I ever wanted to know. I few sites talked about how to avoid dry muffins and cakes next time, which I felt was rude. If I could go BACK, I wouldn't be trying to FIX my muffins, now would I? WOULD I? (ahem.)

Simple syrup is truly, simple. Equal parts sugar and water (and any additional flavor if you like) it can be added to iced tea, mixed drinks and of course, can be used to add moisture to baked goods you have screwed up trying to be healthy which have become dry. 

I stirred some up and whisked it furiously, even the the recipe just said boil. I brushed it THRICE over the muffins and even poked holes in them to facilitate saturation. I put a little between my cheek and gum, and put a dab behind my knee just because. 

Now i wait. Eating table water crackers. Why, because they are delicious and made with processed flour, thats' why! Duh.

The treated muffins smell good. They're shiny. The simple syrup has soaked the muffin papers on the second batch (round) and we may have to eat the wrappers too. 

They look sticky on the top, which is an improvement over their first look of..

((all together now))

Meh. 

When I squeeze them ever so gently, they seem to have a little more give and the syrup seems to have soaked into the holes I made with corn cob holders a very precise kitchen tool.

I want to suggest the baboos try another one, but I'm afraid of rejection.

And, it's lunch time. 

I consider having one myself, but I am now stuffed like a Christmas turkey with Table water crackers. 

It's stress eating. Don't judge. 

I spy the smallest and kindest baboo watching football and ask him to help with an experiment. He loves science, so he agrees to help. 

I explain the lengthy process of my corrective method while he listens intently. He says:

"ok"

I cut the muffin down the center and wait patiently while he dives in. I ask "is it better??" He says:

"sort of. Can I have some milk?"

Sigh.

The larger baboo and her ridiculously tall cousin sweep in and go for round two on the scientific muffin experiment. The baboo RAVES about their improvement, lauding their increased sweetness and increase in moisture. Then, she says:

"Will you buy us lunch in town?"

Sigh. Science is so subjective. 

Fall is in the Air and So are Allergens

Please to enjoy the adorable sneezing baby panda below and be assured that my continued sneezing is nowhere near as entertaining. I looked for a horse sneezing for a better comparison, but no. My allergies are a little flared today, as they are every year at this time. It's awesome.



After several weeks of high temperatures, it appears that Fall received the memo to start with the lower temps and wind TODAY. Normally it seems a little more transitional, but this morning was a tad frosty. I love fall, and I welcome all but the allergens every year. It's cool and breezy today and feels like football weather. It's delicious to get out of stagnant air conditioning (achoo!). Our autumn season is normally a shorter one, pre-empted by snowfall or a cold snap so I try to enjoy it while I can.

I worked at my Bountiful Basket Food Co op site today, and I was glad I am the type of person who doesn't clean out the car often, since I was able to retrieve a random sweatshirt from the rubble.

Achoo!

Achoo-achoo!

((sniff))

I thought it best to stay away from loading the baskets with produce, with all of the unsanitary sniffing and nose wiping. I am now looking at my "bounty" (I kind of dig saying that..) and deciding what we will and won't eat and what can be hidden in smoothies and lasagna. I feel like cooking some healthy muffins, and maybe a few pre-made lasagnas. The fam is hiding.

The baboos are back in school, which pleases me to no end. They are great to have around, but this life without a day without laying on the couch a schedule is a little weird for us all. I think we are all sort of sick of free time and we really want to feel the inflexibility of a rigid day to put a snap back in our step. Or, at least I feel that way.

We have been getting out of our pajamas for a whole week now and are no longer using swimming as a substitute for showering. I have begun the last of my classes toward my degree and am ignoring my homework right this very minute. The kids are sporting it up and Special Agent is fighting crime like he always does to allow us the opportunity to bitch about all of our free time.

Layers...out.

Five Solid Reasons to Love The GLEE Project

1.  Being uncool is cool 
Just like its parent show GLEE, The GLEE Project embraces being a little weird, a little different, a little off. It reminds all of us, cool-kids-lunch table or not, that EVERYONE has worth. (Except for my former brother in law, he is seriously and painfully worthless.)


2.  Awesome covers of songs you only belt out in the car
Feast your ears on all manner of song choices assigned to the cast. You can hear some awesome renditions of songs you used to sing into a hairbrush with your brother (ok, just me, I guess) like "Don't You Want Me" and Under Pressure/Ice Ice baby and Jessie's Girl.




3.  Identifying with your favorite character
Because you get to know the cast, see their talent as well as their vulnerability, it becomes easy to root for one of them, or ALL of them. Fans feel the crushing blow when a cast member is not called back and elation for those who will make it through one more round..or those who quit on principle, and to save their friend from being eliminated. After singing a beautiful haunting version of "Blackbird".




4.  No one gets called back based only on talent
After crooning out their best during the final three song showdown, you will think you know who is going to get the axe because their song was a little off, their moves a little stiff. Then, the sour faced director Ryan grills the terrified singers, digging into their soul to see what lies beneath a great voice and teen angst. He smiles like a Cheshire cat as he watches the kids sing for their supper. Damien's charm has carried him through many a rough final song performance. 


Many times, the person who sang the best is labeled "least writable" and isn't called back. Sometimes this isn't fair at all and you yell at the sour faced producer Ryan. Even though he can't hear you. 




5.  There is no voting 
Thank you baby Jesus, there is no secret voting by the members of the cast. There is very little back biting and since being awkward can be a bonus, there is little to be gained by Machiavellian tendencies. 


This show has heart. It makes me want to cheer for it, for the cast members who are weird, heavy, gay, conceited, small, moody, angst-ridden and wildly talented. I would love to see all of them on GLEE. The next pool of kids at William McKinley High School is going to be one to watch. 

The Kids are All Right...

Although i don't remember it well (Twin probably does, she is a savant for that stuff) I have seen the "first day" photos of our gang standing on the step many times, Twin and I in plaid dresses which makes us look like Cindy Brady, school bags on opposite arms. 


Although we are twins, my sister and I look like the photo negative of one another, one brown hair and brown eyes, one blond hair and blue eyes one right handed, one left-handed, one nice, one mean (you decide). Our brother stands over us in his Hobie surf shirt (Rock on, in Wyoming *snort*), hand on each of our shoulders, a knowing an experienced 5th grader with weird teeth and a bad part in his hair. 


My brother had always ridden the bus and I was wildly jealous. He seemed so cool, strutting over the hill, his comb in his back pocket in case he needed to re-feather, walking with the neighbor kids. I stood in the driveway most afternoon days and waited to see his feathered hair come over the hill. He was so cool. 


When it was our turn to go to school (we didn't need no stinkin' preschool, apparently), we were charged and ready to ride the bus. 


But Red wouldn't let us! 
She INSISTED on driving us to school the first day. 
Booooo. 


You couldn't argue or whine audibly with Red, so we exchanged looks in the back seat of the maroon Monte Carlo. At least with our brother on the bus (No fair!), we both got a window seat. 


We arrived at Hillcrest Elementary and went into our classrooms. Red was worried about us. 


Perhaps we were nervous or needed to use the bathroom before she left. 
Maybe we felt a little scared of this big new school. 
Maybe we would feel shy around all of the new kids. 


Um...our group didn't really know the word 'nervous' or 'shy', as they didn't exist in our family. In fact, none of us has ever met a stranger, still. Red might have been projecting her feelings a smidge. Maybe red was suffering from PMS (Projecting Mother Syndrome)


Twin and I RAN to the big scary building (all of those tiny hooks, chairs and tables ARE ghastly) and put our things away. Red chatted with the teachers and other parents for a few minutes until she realized...we were gone. GONE. 


Where had we gone?


She had meticulously monitored our whereabouts for 5 years and had somehow lost track of us the first day of school! 


What if we were scared? 
What if we were crying? 
What if someone in a big white van, a la  the "CBS After-school Special" was trying to ask us if we wanted to help him find his lost dog? 


I can see Red quietly freaking out in her pantsuit and sort-of beehive hair, politely inquiring to the teachers, a little embarrassed..."ahem, excuse me...but...where are the girls?"


To which the teachers said "Oh, they went to the playground already". 



Unbeknownst to Red, after situating our personal Kleenex box and pencil case with the strawberry smelling eraser, we then skipped down the walkway to the playground.  Recess first! Yay! 


Hell no, we didn't cry!
We wouldn't hear of lurking around on our mother's pantsuit leg!
So what if we didn't even say goodbye to our poor fragile mother whose chicks were leaving the nest?
It's RECESS, yo. We were getting our swings on. 

I am totally the one on the right
Photo credit

And tomorrow, we were riding the bus.


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This post brought to you by a prompt from your friends at Studiothirty, which I see has been PLUS sized?