Happy 4th

Have a safe holiday everyone! 

Trumped by the Past

I had all these plans for posting some kind of sappy, post-Valentine entry today. I went to Little Missy's Valentine Day party at school, you see, and I was struck, as I generally am when I go into elementary schools, by the overall happiness that seems to engulf them. 


I was going talk about how colorful elementary schools are.   


I was going to reminisce* a bit about my own Valentine parties as a child.  


I was going to discuss the innocence and joys of childhood.


I was going to post all the pictures I took at Libby's party, highlighting all the CANDY they received from each other. Because what's Valentine's Day without mounds of carbs, namely chocolate? 


To top it all off, I was even going to offer a quick how-to, with pictures of course, for the craft I did with her class at said party. Because clearly the entry wouldn't have been maudlin enough without them.  


But it all got thrown out the window when a friend posted a link to some retro Valentine cards on Facebook.  


Gold, these are. I can't believe I've never encountered them before now.**  


Let's start off with a couple that are tailor made for all the emotionally manipulative highly motivated potential (or current) mates in your life. Shame, really, that you can't find cards anymore that just lay it on line like this anymore. "Darling!  I love you SO MUCH that I will kill myself in awful ways if you don't love me back":   

Or I'll just kill you in awful ways if you don't love me back: 

And then eat you:  

Or perhaps you opt for a more subtle approach? 

Not really into bodily harm? Ok, well hold, up there's more. Perhaps fetishes are more your thing. 

I love the double entendre going on here

Maybe you just want to go for the straight forward approach. You know, plain Jane. No kinky stuff, no overt threats to yourself or your Valentine, just a simple little message conveying your feelings. Which is completely understandable. Many of us are the same way. Here's the one for you:  

This one is for the vegetarian in your life: 

No Valentine at all, you say?  Forever alone, you say? No worries, I've got you covered: 

I must find a box of these. MUST. -> 


*OMG! I managed to spell that word correctly on the first try. Wow. That's worthy of a Facebook status update.  
**original Flickr stream

Ages 4+

Taken Norman, OK  

Also, via reader suggestion, apparently this past Christmas kicked off with a banner day for gun sales. Peace and love and all that. 


On a side note, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot to death on April 4, 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee. ->  

Cheers

Here's hoping everyone has a blessed holiday weekend.  Thanks for reading, Tanya 


Song(s) of the week: 

Getting Old Sucks, Episode 3

You know how you go to the store and it's really crowded and you have a lot of stuff on your mind and you're shopping for 15 minutes hours so it's natural that you might have forgotten where you parked before you went in and then you go outside to the parking lot and you can't find your car?  


This happened to me recently.  


OK, it happened to me yesterday.


Before I go any further, let me explain something. When I'm forced to be a Mart of Darkness patron, I always try to park in the little side lot on the south side of the store. The lot only fits about 100 cars or so (as opposed to 6,548 cars the parking lot in front of the store fits) and because of its size, it's much easier to find my car. Sometimes, though, Wal-Fart will close off half of that parking lot to temporary house train cars full of cheap crap made in China really important stuff that I'm sure we all need. Even when those cargo crates are there I will drive through the little lot on the off chance a parking spot is available.  


Yesterday was one of those days. 


This is an important detail to tuck away.  


So I was running last-minute errands, something I'm sure I'll be doing all week, and  my mind was elsewhere. It was an astonishly quick trip for me as I had something quite specific in mind that I was shopping for. I stormed out the door with my goods in hand and walked straight to the section of the parking lot I use when the little section has nothing available.  


Which was pretty impressive, really.  I wasn't completely on auto-pilot and remembered BEFORE I walked to the little lot that there were no spots available in said little lot and I had to use the mammoth lot.  On these occasions I always park in the same vicinity so I can, you know, find my car.  


It was cold. 


It was windy.  


It was wet. 


It was monochromatic: 

I was in a hurry because I had two other places to patron before Libby arrived home from school and time was running short. 


Naturally I couldn't find my car.  


I walked ALL the way down one aisle of cars and ALL the way up another--which if you've been to a Super Mega Ultra Darth Mart you know is easily 2 miles. 


Huh. I missed it on my first pass.  I'll try again.  And this time I'll use my car clicker.  Love that thing, which has a range that goes on forever, so when I click it my car will call out to me and say "Here I am!" with a little beep. 


There I go, being all clever.


Except there was no beep. 


Walking and clicking and walking and clicking and walking and clicking and NO beep.  


Let me tell you something:  


When it's cold and wet and windy and monochromatic and you're in a hurry and you KNOW you parked here somewhere on THIS aisle, (or maybe the one next door, but still, you parked right here somewhere) and you're walking and clicking and walking and clicking and there's no beep, there is no room in ones thought processes for logic or rationality.   


Someone stole my car.  


Clearly. 


An abridged running commentary in my head:  


HOW could this happen?  It's broad daylight out and this parking lot has security and why on earth would someone want to make off with my little Subaru anyway? (click--no beep) I guess it's pretty new but still...This close to Christmas to boot! Nice. (click CLICK--no beep) Way to go asshole. (CLICK CLICK--no beep) I hope you feel good stealing a woman's car. A woman with CHILDREN. OH MY GOD. How can I possibly work out later if I'm in the middle of dealing with the police about a stolen vehicle? That's going to take forever. (CLICK CLICK CLICK--no beep) Mitch is going to have to leave work early so he can be home when Libby gets there. OH. My. GAWD. Insurance is going to be a living nightmare. I don't want to have to drive a rental again. (CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK--no beep.) I can't believe someone STOLE MY CAR.   


I was out of my head and near tears but had to yet to make any kind of phone call but was thisclose when out of nowhere it struck me.  


The realization that yes, I actually did park in the little lot by the side of the store. I just didn't park in an actual parking space--I sorta made one up.  


The good news is no one stole my car. -> 

MORE Sex Abuse For Christmas

I was trying to decide what I was going to write about and then I remembered one of my grad school professors got arrested this week.  


For child rape.  


Ready for the classes he taught that I took?  


Mental Health Diagnostics 


AND 


Human Sexuality.  


Yes.  The irony train left the station with me sitting in first class. 


I hate, Hate, HATE that it has to a) be a damned Social Work professor and b) it has to be one that I not only know but actually took classes from. 


People I went to school with didn't think much of him.  He got into a heap of trouble in his early years because he kept changing the syllabus in all his classes. I always felt like he was just too busy trying to please the students to be all that effective. 


It just makes my degree feel cheap and somehow defiled.  Like I have to go back to school for a while and somehow repent for what this jackass has been doing for years.  


And no.  I have no qualms referring to one of my old professors as a "jackass" when it's plastered all over the news that he told police he likes to "stroke" young girls.  


We're talking ages 9 to 13 here.  


Excellent. 


And I certainly don't have any issues with posting about it here. He's not my professor now, this has nothing to do with my job, and the fact that he thinks he has a porn problem is now public knowledge.   


I don't watch the local news but you can bet I'll be keeping an eye on this story as it unfolds, which you can view here. I tried to embed it, but the code is bad and I'm not geeky enough to figure out how to fix it.


Additionally, this damn season is kicking my ass.  I always put a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself every December--for instance I make, MAKE my Christmas cards--but for some reason this year feels overwhelming. My unorganized nature and tendency to procrastinate have finally gotten the best of me. Plus it feels as if we're hemorrhaging money with all the extra expenses families don't incur any other month of the year: Craft supplies the school party, dirty Santa gifts for social gatherings, food for The Big Dinner, food for when family is in town, charity giving, and the presents! Oh, the presents for all those people in our life who lack for nothing. 


So, all in all, not a great week. I'm sorry for the cynicism. Hopefully this will pass soon.    


Song of the week:  

Dug Up From the Old Trench

I originally wrote this in September 2008.  I'm re-posting an updated version now, because it just seems fitting considering the season. 

WRAP IT UP

I am wrapping paper's Bitch.

I'm the one who will only use wire-edged, fabric ribbon on gifts. I'm the one who will only use "high quality" paper that's nice and thick and much more appropriate for wrapping a 6 pound beef roast as opposed to a box from Amazon. I'm the one scouring the aisles after Christmas for the excellent deals and hoarding my finds until the following year. I'm the one who will only use color coordinated tissue paper when I have to wrap something inside the Amazon box. 


And while I'm at it, let's discuss tape, shall we? Because tape matters. That nasty, frosty tape simply will not do on my works of art presentations presents under the tree or at birthday celebrations. Nope. What's the point of using lovely paper if you're going to ruin the overall effect by  advertising that THIS IS WHERE I TAPED THE SEAMS TOGETHER? I like the Scotch brand, satin finish, gift wrap tape, thankyouverymuch.  


Bags are a personal affront unless they have been customized to the point of ridiculousness. For instance, the last time I wrapped presents in a bag, I personally decorated them. With cutouts of shoes. On hand-made marbled paper. From a stencil I made. Garnished with two kinds of ribbon. And stamped tissue paper. 


Huh. 


I just re-read that last paragraph.  


I should probably be committed.


Moving on...

For the sake of research and accuracy, I just counted what's in my stash. I have 26 rolls of wrapping paper. This doesn't include the marble paper I bought over the summer or the awesome vintage stuff I scored at an estate sale last year. 


Frankly, I don't find 26 rolls of paper unreasonable at all.

Honestly, I thought it was more. 

I know. I KNOW. On so many levels, wrapping paper is just wrong. And believe me, I've tried (well, not really) to break my little habit.


Here are all the arguments against Made-in-China-Hobby Lobby/Target-issued wrapping paper. Feel free to jump in with more. I'm sure they're as many arguments against wrapping paper as there are socks without mates in my sock pile. 

The Social Worker Perspective: It's just vulgar. The dollars you spend on wrapping paper could feed a child in Darfur for six years. And the luxury paper is even worse! The dollars you spend on that could feed a village in Darfur for six years.

The Environmentalist Perspective: It's a complete waste of resources. Do you know how much engery is needed to produce said wrapping paper? The trees? The oil? Not to mention the landfill space. If you insist on wrapping gifts, reduce, reuse, recycle! Get some of these and they'll last for years!


The Live Life Simply Perspective: It's an extravagance. Do you honestly NEED wrapping paper? Does your life have room for the clutter of wrapping paper and all its accoutrements?

The Cheapskate Perspective: It's expensive. Those Sunday morning comics are colorful, and you've already paid for them via your subscription. Better yet, pilfer through the neighbor's recycle bin on curbside day and then they're free!

The Artist Perspective: Buy it? Why on earth would you buy wrapping paper when you can wrap up gifts in copies of your own drawings or paintings? Why use paper at all when there are so many other unique ways to present a gift? 

The Mommy Blogger Perspective: OMG! Stamping brown craft paper and using it as wrapping paper is SO CUTE! And while you're wrapping your gift, you can take 15 photos of it from different angles at f/2.0 for a supercloseupshot! and then post them ALL to your Wordpress blog for your 246 followers to "ooooh" and "ahhhh" over! Hello? Multi-tasking!! 

The Shabby-Chic Perspective: Have you not been to a flea market lately? You can find vintage boxes for practically nothing and present your gift in those. Quite unique and so much more fun than wrapping paper. 

The Feminist Perspective: Wrapping paper is just another way for The Man to keep us down.

The Man Perspective: Wait, you're supposed to wrap the gift?

I am completely cognizant of all of these arguments.

And yet.


And yet when I see pink and polka dots and fun patterns....

And it's all ON SALE...


So goes all my capacity for rational thought processes. -> 

For Whom the Bell Tolls

I've decided that at this time of year I just need to carry around quarters.  


Because everywhere I go, the Salvation Army Bell Ringers are there.


Ringing that blasted bell.  


Making me feel like an ass if I don't put something in their bucket.  


"Merry Christmas!" they call to me, as I'm walking away from the store.   


Which, after going through the Tanya Filter gets translated to: 


"Go ahead and LEAVE with your frivolous purchases, you haughty, cold-hearted prig! There are starving children right here in the good 'ole USofA, but you just carry on with your day. That's right! Walk away! Don't worry about the single mothers caring for three emaciated toddlers!"


To assuage my guilt, I have been known to explained to them that I'm not dropping anything in their bucket now because I donated to another bucket at the last store I visited 30 minutes ago. 


To which they respond: "Thanks so much!" 


To which I then translate into: "SURE you did, you lying, miserly, twit." 


They torture me. 


Naturally I wanted a picture of one for my blog. 


So I went to Hobby Lobby with camera in hand and chatted one up on my way in the store. She was nice enough to let me get her photo and I had planned on posting it without her name, per her request.  


On the way out, however, I noticed shift change had happened while I was in consuming and there was a new bell ringer.   


I had, simply put, hit the mother load. 


Because not only did the replacement bell ringer don her gay apparel...

Wait, the full body angle is much better...

Do you see them? 


No? 


Let me help you out: 

I'm sorry for the spot color. I won't do it again unless it's absolutely necessary. 

Anyway, where was I?  


Oh yeah.  


Not only did she sport her Buddy the Elf ensemble, she....get ready for it...sang as she was ringing that bell.


Silent Night
We Three Kings
Deck the Halls 


etc. 


A lovely voice, in fact. 


Go on. Walk away from THAT without parting ways with at least a buck. 


I dare you.  


It gets better: come to find out she was the Salvation Army Bell Ringer Coordinator for all of Norman, Oklahoma one year. 


But wait! There's more!  


Her name is Holly.  


Listen folks, I can't make this shit up.

Holly, bless her, was extraordinarily nice and answered all the questions I peppered at her, rapid-fire like Oprah on a caffeine binge. She was also exceptionally tolerant of my sitting in front of her for what felt like an hour, but was in reality probably only 10 minutes, snapping pictures and doing it badly.


Here are some things I learned:


1. The bell-ringing campaign is the Salvation Army's biggest fund raiser of the year.*


2. The bell ringers in Norman are volunteers, although there are some around the country who get paid. 


3. There are hundreds of bell ringers in my town each year, and they sign up for their spots months in advance. 


(You read that correctly: months.)  


4. Naturally the coveted spots are the ones where the ringing happens inside.  


5. Wal-Mart makes the ringers suffer the elements**


6. The volunteers come from civic organizations, local businesses and churches.


7. Holly said coordinating the volunteers was a "hard job."  To which the Tanya Filter translated into "it was a huge pain-in-the-arse and even if you threatened to shave off my eyebrows and pull out my nosehairs with a horse-powered clamp I would never do it again."


8. I donated $4 to Salvation Army that day, $2 in the bucket for each bell ringer I approached. 


Because it's so appropriate, I'm posting my absolute favorite Christmas carol of all time (video 1:28)->

*Ok, this tidbit I learned from a woman who used to work at Salvation Army. 


**Holly didn't tell me this either. I just know because the ones over there are exceptionally forceful with their "Merry Christmas" as I'm walking away having donated to another bucket 30 minutes ago.

Tis the Season

Atwoods in Norman, OK. 

I don't know about you, but I live for sparkly guns hanging from my Christmas tree.  

Target. Norman, OK.  

And then you can wrap these and tuck them under... 


Peace and love, Tanya.  -> 

Pseudo SEAL

The Boy sporting his Halloween digs. Should someone try to rob our house, I'm just going to sick my son in this ensemble on them--it's enough to scare anyone.  ->  

Friday Fun

Shorts: 

Real Time WWII tweets.  How about that?  

Those extras you see in the movies?  Inflatable. 


More really excellent reasons as to why I am completely and utterly RIGHT when I say spiders are evil. 


Where on earth has this photo site been all my internet life?  Score! 


Medium:  


So--what better way to bring family-friendly fun and games into your home than to order a gas mask?  


That's right, I said "gas mask." Straight to our front porch, originating in Israel via Amazon. Um, "Israli-civilian issued," to be exact:

Hebrew? Sure!  Authenticity.  That's how we roll. 

Suffice it to say, The Boy is taking his Halloween costume quite seriously this year. Here's a look in context: 

Cool look, right?  I mean, in a Pink-Floyd- Another-Brick-in-the-Wall-Part-2 kind of way.


Naturally, his sister wanted to give it a whirl. Because I allow him to be such a good influence on her. Disclaimer: Forgive! The following picture is not nearly as good. I could drag her out of bed 90 minutes after she went to sleep for a redo, but believe it or not, I do have some parental sense that rears its ugly head every now-and-again:

She's going to be a "necromancer" this year for Halloween. Which is some sort of creature on some video game that summons the dead.  


Again, we are nothing if not wholesome here at Mattek Central.  


Not to be outdone by a future Navy S.E.A.L. Dude or a Summoner of Death, The Boy took a picture of me too:

Little Missy, to me:  You look like an elephant, Mom. 


She does wonders for my self esteem, that one. 


By the way, the actual mask is expired.  So much for that family vacation to the Izu Islands. 


Song of the week:  

Pink Floyd – Another Brick in the Wall (Part II) - Watch more Music Videos at Vodpod.

Sharpies! For the Languid Approach to Crafting

Or, 


Yet another reason why I'm a Sharpie Slut.  


There are people out there who take their crafting seriously.  


There are people who make honest attempts and do it wrong. 


And then there are people like me.  People who like the idea of crafting and like the results of crafting and can sometimes go into a manic-y crafty phase, but for the most part feel it's an awful lot of damn work, not to mention messy, thus laziness tends to trump desire 78% of the time. 


To wit: 


Why on earth would anyone feel the need to dig out all the paints, paint brushes, cups with water for rinsing the paint brushes, drop clothes for the inevitable mess from the paint and brushes, and cleaning cloths for said paint and brushes and WHY  would anyone walk all the way to back of the house to retrieve all that paraphernalia when there's an office right there in the kitchen and said office has what?  


Say you: Sharpies! 
Say me: YES!  Sharpies that hello?  Don't drip. And don't spill.  Winner, winner, chicken dinner.  Right here. 


So, in continuing with my new, posting-gratuitous-pictures-on-the- blog entries theme, allow me to show you Little Missy's creations from last week.  


First though, the step-by-step instructions: 


Items you need: 
1) Sharpies.  If you're particularly indifferent, you can whittle this down to a singular Sharpie. Color: black. 
2) Cute little pumpkins 


The project  


1) Give the pumpkins and Sharpie(s) to your kid 
2) Let her draw on the pumpkins. 
3) Drink wine surf Facebook surf Pinterest Sit back and watch your progeny create. 
4) Feel smug because you run a craft paint free establishment. 


Time for the project: 15 minutes.  Time for the photos: Well...read on. No matter that I was languid with the craft. Clearly I can't hide my OCD tendencies. 


First I took this picture of her creations mid-project, to demonstrate my ability using the uber-close-up feature on the fancy camera. And to be all arty: 

I thought it was a nice little vignette. I would have been satisfied with just this picture. But Little Missy's immediate response upon the viewing was:  


LM: Aww...you didn't put the Dracula one on top?  


Significant oversight on my part, not letting Dracula be King of the Pumpkins.   


Bad Mom!  


So I told her I would and take another picture.  


LM: You need to wait until I get ALL the pumpkins done and then take a picture of all them.  


Silly me, leaving those other pumpkins out.  As I social worker, I should know better than to exclude and discriminate against certain members of the gourd population.  


Bad social worker!   


So she set to work getting all the pumpkins decorated and soon enough declared them ready to go.  After she took the time to arrange them just so, I snapped the shot: 

Say you: Very cute...
Say me: Hold up!  


I'm sure you couldn't help but notice that there is something drastically, horribly wrong with this photo.  I simply couldn't let it stand as it would enormously affect the overall quality of my blog. Which is exceedingly high, as you know. 


Here, let me help you out:

Can you just see how that random brick and the planter in the background simply ruins the snapshot?  How can you possibly concentrate on my daughter's little Sharpie wonders with those eyesores completely screwing up the composition? 


Right.  


You can't. 


It's simply impossible.  


So I took another picture:  

Say you: Very nice! No more brick, no more planter. 
Say me: Hold up!  

The little fella there on your left is kind of fuzzy and in the shadows.  That simply won't do. After already disenfranchising these guys once that day, I was in no mood to deal with the ramifications if I did so again.   


Obviously, another shot was in order:

UGH!  

And again: 

Ew. Disaster.  


SY: What's wrong with that one?  It looks fine!
SM:  SHUT. UP.  I can't display a pumpkin pyramid that's off its horizontal axis!  

Letting a picture like this stand would imply I have low standards.  It would imply that I've used Sharpies on an actual painting project in my home!  


Wait...


Never mind.


Moving on.


But before I do, let me just say this: those blasted pumpkins were hardly cooperative during this whole endeavor.  Since the earth kept rotating around the sun (can you believe the nerve?), resulting in the sunlight, you know, moving, we had to re-arrange the pumpkins accordingly more than once. Oftentimes there was mutiny: 

Little bastards.  


Finally, after taking like, 20 pictures, I got one I could live with: 

There!  Observe, if you will, the finished shiny, Sharpie fun-time Halloween happy, happy, joy easy-peasy-with-no-drips project!  


SY: Umm...I hate to point this out...
SM: Don't go there...
SY: ....but....
SM: Seriously?  DON'T...
SY: I can see the planter in the background again. 
SM: *Looking at the picture in stunned disbelief* 
SM:*Now looking at you and wanting to maim you*

HERE!  Satisfied?  

SY: Well, Dracula's a wee bit fuzzy. And the corner guys are not looking straight...
SM: Get off my blog.  


I thought we were done with the project. I really did. But after the impromptu photo shoot on the deck, Little Missy went on a scavenger hunt and found this, not to mention a buddy, not pictured here:

Aw, hell.  


Sharpies weren't going to really work on a warty, bi-colored gourd*.  


I Really, really did not want to get out those paints.....


.....thought hard....looked around office....


Eureka!! 

->


PS: Did you know there was a band out there called The Gourds? Oh, the power of the Googles...