National Turn Off TV Week

Annie came home from school the other day with the news that this week is National Turn off the TV week. I had heard this but declined to participate as Matt would not be home until Thursday and I was fairly certain that there would be blood shed if I could not use TV as a bribe tool, a babysitter, or an emergency "save me from these kids right now" tool. So when at the beginning of the week Annie announced the news, I told the kids that from Thursday through Sunday we would not watch TV. Yesterday morning, Ellie woke up early, and I plucked her from her crib, got her a bottle, and plopped on the couch with the remote. I turned the volume way down, though, so I could barely hear it. Johnny's ears I think have supersonic hearing, because he immediately woke up when he heard the buzz of the tube. As he's coming down the stairs, he scolds me, "Mom, I thought we talked about this in the car yesterday. No TV." Busted.

Enneagram Obsession

I checked out this book a week ago as a total self-help maneuver to understand myself a little better and to figure out what to work on to grow personally and spiritually. It's called "Wisdom of the Enneagram: The Complete Guide to Psychological and Spiritual Growth for the Nine Personality Types". The idea is that there are 9 general types of people. So I've taken several tests to figure it out. I was getting totally frustrated by these tests, unsure how to respond to such questions like:
I've been
a. romantic and imaginative.
b. pragmatic and down to earth.
What if I am both at different times? How do I just pick one? Or here's another problematic question:
Generally, it's been
a. easy to "get a rise" out of me.
b. difficult to "get a rise" out of me.
What if sometimes it's easy, but sometimes it's difficult? What if I have a split personality?! Oh my God, I think I'm schizophrenic! Or manic depressive!

Trying to figure out my personality type in order that I might improve myself and find more peace in my life was causing me a LOT of stress! But that did not make me put down the book. Oh, no. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead, I stayed up late, worked through the frustrating times just to find out which one of the nine boxes I would fit into. Darn it, I knew it would be one of them. I think I'm probably a mix, with one dominant kind. Here they are for you, in abbreviated expanations:

1 THE REFORMER
The Rational, Idealistic Type: Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic
2 THE HELPER
The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Demonstrative, Generous, People-Pleasing, and Possessive
3 THE ACHIEVER
The Success-Oriented, Pragmatic Type: Adaptive, Excelling, Driven, and Image-Conscious
4 THE INDIVIDUALIST
The Sensitive, Withdrawn Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental
5 THE INVESTIGATOR
The Intense, Cerebral Type: Perceptive, Innovative, Secretive, and Isolated
6 THE LOYALIST
The Committed, Security-Oriented Type: Engaging, Responsible, Anxious, and Suspicious
7 THE ENTHUSIAST
The Busy, Fun-Loving Type: Spontaneous, Versatile, Distractible, and Scattered
8 THE CHALLENGER
The Powerful, Dominating Type: Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational
9 THE PEACEMAKER
The Easygoing, Self-Effacing Type: Receptive, Reassuring, Agreeable, and Complacent

For more info, go to:
http://www.enneagraminstitute.com

I think I'm a 4 and a 1. I am loving this thing, though, because the more I read the more I am agreeing with it. I am turning over a whole new leaf. Watch out world, the new me is coming! (As a kid I always loved corny lines like that).

Kid humor

One of Johnny's friends came up with a nonsense rhyme a few days ago. They stand on their chairs and dance and sing:

"The big big Johnny that you've ever seen
He has a big booty and he's very smelly!"

And then they collapse into laughter.

Johnny

Johnny has been acting goofy ever since Matt went out of town on Saturday. Pushing me, hitting me, growling at me, in short, Johnny is HATING me. He told me yesterday that I was "fired." Then he asked what fired meant, and when I told him, he asked, "if you are fired, who's going to be my mom?" I told him that was a good question. Pause. The wheels are turning in Johnny's head and he says, "Can Mrs. Murphy be my mom?"

Am I crazy?

My Grandmother's 83rd birthday party is Memorial Day weekend in Green Bay. My mom and her sibs have rented a boat for 100 of our family members for the occasion. 4 cottages have been rented near Green Bay to accomodate out-of-towners. 17 people from the Mary family plan on being there and are supposed to cram into one of these cottages. 8 adults, 9 kids. 1 bathroom. Yes, 1 bathroom. When I expressed concern that this might be troublesome to get ready for the fancy party with only 1 bathroom and 17 people, I was told that I am "crazy."

Long John

I have tried to be a little more careful of divulging too much personal data on this website and have felt fine until now about the public nature of blogging. However, a few days ago I received an interesting comment on the last entry, "Money Pit." A commenter calling himself "Long John" wrote: "Who are you going to show your new underwear to? That's a good question. Remember your old friend John from school?" I clicked on the link "Long John" which showed a picture of a very long penis. Nice. So, I immediately changed the settings on the blog so that I have to approve the comments before they show up. I also changed the settings so that this blog is public (anyone can get to it if they have the address), but it's not published in the blogger.com directory. Hopefully, this will save me from future "Long Johns." By the way, if Long John is reading this right now, there were no Johns in my class, and I hope you realize it is sick and wrong to proposition a lady with 3 kids and white cotton brief underwear.

Money Pit

So we have a little bit of money from our tax return that we'll do something with. We got an estimate on landscaping the backyard. Some light landscaping plus a patio and brick path to the garage would run about $11,000. Hmmm...maybe we'll do something else this year.

We decided to look into replacing the windows in the front of our house. There are 10 of them, and they are narrow little windows. 6 in the front, 1 on the side facing the door, 3 on the side facing our neighbors. And it will cost anywhere between $7,000 and $14,000 to replace them. So I'm thinking about covering up the windows on the sides (the 1 facing the door, the 3 facing our neighbors) and making it just plain wall. Advantages of this are: less air leakage I think, more wall space to put a piece of furniture or art. Disadvantages of this are: less sunlight from the sides, no more being an exhibitionist for neighbors (who will I show my new underwear to?). I don't even know if this would save money (savings of $2800-5600, but what is spent on new wallboard, stucco, etc?--it might be a wash).

Golly it's expensive to fix up a house.

Matt update

Matt found a new job! He has been way too busy and overworked for the last couple of years, getting worse after his company was bought by a ginormous company and those above him cared even less about his unfortunate spot. Matt is better suited to a smaller company where he feels like he is worth something. He will beat his head against a wall for ages before he finally gives up, however (annoying to me when the thing he won't leave is a horrible company, good for me when the thing he won't leave is me). But when he finally turned in his notice, the black cloud lifted and the enormous burden of his position went away. Ahhh, Atlas shrugged. He starts in about three weeks. He's taking a week off at home, and he's going on a fun-filled trip to England for the Champion's League Finals (soccer, or "football" if you prefer the British). Hooray.

Kiva.org

I want to pass this on to those who haven't heard of it. Microlending is "the extension of very small loans (microloans) to the unemployed, to poor entrepreneurs and to others living in poverty who are not bankable" (from Wikipedia). Very very cool concept if there is any hope for the poor (esp those in third world countries) to have any hope of raising themselves out of poverty. Here is the site:
kiva.org

My big fat Irish family

I am Godmother to my nephew. I am not exactly sure what a Godmother is really supposed to do except hold the candle at the baptism and give cool presents at birthdays and Christmas. I feel like it should be something more than this, especially because I think the presents that I have given my nephew over the years have sucked. Mostly because I have not stuck with his Christmas list which includes all things violent (he asked for and received a gun from his Dad two Christmases ago--they go the range for a bonding experience). Anyhow, in an attempt to be more than the Aunt who gets him boring books and sensible sweaters, I wanted to take him to the museum of his choosing for a special day yesterday (he is on Spring Break). He wanted to go to the Planetarium and see an Imax show.

I check out showtimes and I'm getting really excited for our big day. Annie is in school, so Johnny and Ellie and Cole and I would go together. Then my mom calls and wants to go. Then my brother from Wisconsin calls and says he's here for the week and he's coming too. Then I find out that his three kids will be with him. My mom and brother insist that my Dad come also because this is a "family outing" and he can't not be there. So, I set off on my special outing for my Godson with my mom, my dad, my brother, his three kids, and my two kids. The Grizwolds take the Planetarium. So much for an intimate special time with my nephew. It costs about $150 for all of us to get in and see the show and the kids just ran around screaming and banging on shit the whole time. Next time we're going to McDonald's playland. :)

Mattress Story

I was the happy recipient of a two year old mattress from my Aunt who was moving. Finally Annie's 35 year old mattress could be replaced!

On Thursday last week I picked it up. I hauled the new mattress upstairs and decided to give away the old one. I would drive it to salvation army. Now I was quite occupied and not paying good attention when I stripped the sheets off the bed and hauled it down the stairs and outside. But once the thing was leaning up against the van I took a step back and looked at it in the bright sunlight. I was unprepared for the sight. I know that from time to time there might be accidents of various sorts on beds, but this looked as though someone had been shot on this thing while dying her hair and drinking hot chocolate. And I didn't think I could bear to give it to salvation army in this state. It had to be thrown out.

Neighbors of ours have rented a dumpster to clean out their basement. I looked down the street at it and decided to ask them if I could toss the mattress in. I walked up to the door to ring the bell and before I could even do so, the door opened and what appears to be a 19-year old young woman with long dark hair and gaudy blue eyemakep opens the door. But then the large features and the atom's apple appear and I realize that it is, in fact, a dude. That didn't stop me from my goal, however, which was to find a way to dispose of this unfortunate mattress before a cop drove by and asked to inspect my Honda Odyssey for any dead bodies.

"I was wondering if I might be able to throw something in your dumpster?"
"I don't care. Go ahead." Teen transvestite walks past me to the car and I wonder if there are other she-male teens that hang out in front of the Lake Street theater and Ben and Jerry's.

Dumpsters are supposed to be able to open from the side, but this one was locked. So I spent about 10 minutes trying to hoist the mattress high enough to push over the top. I couldn't even get the thing off the ground it was so heavy. I tried tipping it onto my head (until I realized my head hurt before the whole thing was even on it). I even tried tipping it on my back like a beast of burden to get it lifted up. It was quite a sight, and if any of my neighbors were watching that day, I'm sure they were laughing their asses off watching me try to push this blood-soaked mattress into the dumpster.

I actually stood back from it a moment and remembered grade school science class. What I needed was a simple machine. A lever. No levers in sight, but I did see a couple of plastic lawn chairs. Fulcrums. I set them up to face each other and then tipped the mattress up on one end until the other end was high enough to reach the chair seat. I then lifted the other side to the other chair and presto! I was able to get underneath the mattress with my shoulder and hoist it over the top. In what seemed to me like slow motion, I watched as the terrible beastly mattress began the descent into its new home. And then, I heard the satisfying "thunk" that signaled the end of a mattress' life.

lessons from Mary

Now that Matt is feeling better for the most part and now that Easter is over, I am no longer a single mother nor a raging lunatic (which is how I get before a party). Did I mention I had Easter brunch at our house with Matt's family? It was my first holiday to host. I actually love making brunch. It's low-key, I love all brunch dishes, and I don't have to feel weird about not serving meat.

Now, I come from a mother who LOVES to entertain. I don't mean simple entertainment either, I mean anywhere from 22 (the number in my "immediate" family now) to 65 (when she throws a big bash). She gets out every piece of silver (the really old fashioned fancy type where the tarnish gets caught in the scrollie little groves and is really hard to rub off when you're an 8-year old performing slave labor before a major holiday). She taught me how to fold a napkin on the table so all you have to do is pick up the corner of it and let it fall on your lap. From her I learned the rule "serve from the left, remove from the right". She taught me that a proper meal should be colorful and include a balance of rich foods and more simple foods. She taught me to fill the coffeepot when you're preparing for a party so all you have to do is turn it on halfway through dinner. Cocktail hour should be just that--one hour to allow for the time it takes for your meal to finish cooking. In short, my mother is the hostess with the mostess. In my family, we tease her because she finds it appaling to put a bottle of anything on the table. As a result, when I was growing up, katsup and jelly always went in little serving cups. Cookingware never went directly on the table; food was always transferred to serving dishes before being placed on the buffet or the table. And we 5 kids were kept busy at night doing dishes. Hmmm...maybe that was the point. I kid you not--to this very day it takes 5 kids plus 4 spouses about two hours to complete all the dishes from Christmas.

Unlike my mother, I become a complete basketcase when faced with the chaos of a fancy dinner party. Chaos and complication are not my cup of tea. But the opposing force at work is my upbringing: all I've ever known of "proper" parties is FANCY FANCY FANCY! And it was my first Easter to host my in-laws. I came up with a brilliant plan. Buy half of the stuff for brunch from Williams-Sonoma (I had a gift certificate that I needed to use), assign duties to everyone to bring one thing, and then I was only responsible for making two dishes from scratch. I consulted my mother the pro on the food. With my mom's coaching, I made everything ahead of time, set the table the night before, and even borrowed pastel bunny servingware from a friend for an adorable table. It was a total hit!! Here was the menu:

Veggie fritata with red pepper sauce
Blueberry coffeecake with lemon curd
Lemon coffeecake with rasperry sauce
bagels with cream cheese
fruit salad
tomato, cucumber and onion salad
Coffee
Orange Juice

I think I'm going to do Easter every year now!

single mom

Matt has been sick for a few days now, and I must say, it SUCKS to do everything by myself. I have like 30 seconds before doing the next thing, so just a few observations:
1. I realize just how much my husband does now to keep our household humming (or at least chugging)
2. I have new respect for single parents
3. I don't understand people who get divorced with little kids...
My 30 seconds of freedom is up.

New Blog, New Look

Why "Heaven and Pi"? Well, I have occasionally fantasized about opening up a cafe that would be conducive to book clubs, artists, music and politics. I also realize that the Buzz Cafe has kind of done this already, and it's a lot easier to just go there. But if anything ever happens to the Buzz, be prepared for "Heaven and Pi." Heaven because I am intrigued by all things Godly and Spiritual, and Pi because my favorite dessert to make is blueberry pie (and I'm a dork and love the play on words). But beyond that, Pi is such a mysterious number (the ratio of circumference to diameter of a circle). Pi is based in math and should be logical, but has many characteristics which make it so strange: it is infinite, it doesn't repeat, there is no seeming pattern to the digits that comprise it, and it shows up everywhere in nature.

You might think that using an irrational number whose exact value is not fully understood would not be wise, but it is the exact number required for many of math's most complex equations. I just love thinking that Something infinite, not able to be calculated, not fully understood is just the thing we logically minded people need to solve some of life's greatest riddles.