Oh, To Be a Teenage Girl!

My daughter has a friend. Let’s call her “Dippy,” because she is.

Dippy got mad at Gwen the other day because Gwen invited another girl over to our house this weekend. Dippy decided to get revenge. Her revenge? She claimed she fell, hit her head, got amnesia, and didn’t remember who Gwen was anymore.

Uhh…. okaaaayyyyyyyy.

(You see why I call her Dippy, right? Sharpest knife in the drawer, she is NOT.)

So, Gwen got HER revenge by “reminding” Dippy in front of everyone at school that before she got “amnesia” she lost a bet to Gwen and owes Gwen $1000!

And suddenly—*POOF*—just like magic, Dippy’s “amnesia” was cured.

GOD, I ADORE TEENAGE GIRLS!!!!

© Coracabana

Playing Catch-Up: Snow Day!

Okay, so last I showed my bloggy face around here, I promised you a stupendous slew of stories, didn’t I? Ohhhhhhh, I’ve got stories for you, alright. Mm-hmm. In fact, dare I say it?—EEK!—I just might have too many stories. I can’t even really decide where to begin, so I keep putting it off and neglecting the blog, and then the problem just grows bigger and hairier and soooooooooooo much worse.

Kinda like moldy cheese in the back of the fridge.

Or Kirsty Alley.

Whatever.

The point? Much has gone on in my wee wittle world the last month or two…. hence the fact that I only blogged a pitiful, inexcusable three pointless posts in December.

Three!

Pfffft! Sad, wasn’t it? I know.

*cough slacking-good-for-nothing-clown cough*

It may take me a little while to blog it all, so bear with me. However, God forbid, if I’m still slogging my way through it and still blogging about Christmas in June, someone slap me. Okay? Okay.

Anyway, on with the stories….

Snow.

I used to dread snow when I lived in Seattle. Stupid sucktastic snow. Every time it snowed there—*POOF*—the whole city turned Stone Age. No cars, thanks to the rollercoasterish hilly streets being lacquered in an inch thick layer of ice, forcing everyone to ditch their cars and attempt to hoof it like we were in the dang Ice Capades! No electricity, thanks to the snow-encased trees all choosing to fall on the power lines, leaving everyone shivering by candlelight in their chilly homes for days on end! Basically, life would come to an abrupt halt and we’d all turn feral. And, my friends, THAT is NEVER pretty.

Snow was a terrifying monster which I feared all winter long.

But here in Chicago snow is a tame and docile beast. More of a pet, really. The kind that follows at your heals when you go out for a walk, licks your face, and occasionally leaves puddles on your floor. Not the least bit threatening.

Snow doesn’t bring this city to a grinding halt; snow doesn’t seem to impact anything here much whatsoever. It’s just kind of there. And for the first time in my entire adult life, snow doesn’t stress me out.

In fact, I think I like it. Whodathunkit?

Our first big snow day here was at the beginning of December. We awoke one Saturday morning to a scrumptious-looking city which seemed to have been generously frosted with Marshmallow Crème….

And Gwen was THRILLED!!!!….



There was a Bake Sale/Christmas Fair at Gwen’s school that day, but, unlike it would have in Seattle, the newly fallen Chicago snow did NOT take a steaming poo on our plans to go. Nope. We bundled ourselves up and walked a block and a half to school, hucking snowballs at each other the entire way. (Heh heh heh.) I may have also attempted an artsy fartsy snowy picture or two as we went….



The Bake Sale/Christmas Fair was fun. We sampled some delicious treats (my favorite were the “Oreo Balls”) and looked at lots of crafts and handmade trinkets. But my favorite table was “Santa’s Gift Tree” where I won myself this marvelous monster finger puppet, which I thoroughly enjoyed taunting Gwen and her friends with! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!….



After Gwen’s friends bailed (was it something I or my finger puppet said?!?!), Gwen, Scope and I took a whack at the Cake Walk where Gwen won the first prize: this uber-yummy chocolate M&M cake….



Then Gwen, Scope, and I ventured back home to nosh on cake and rush up to the roof of our condo to see our winterized neighborhood from above….



Up on the roof we made a snowman, which Scope (always the gentleman) so gallantly gave his hat and scarf (awwww)….




….and we had another big ol' snowball fight. Duh.

Then to top of the perfect Snow Day, we piled into the car and drove a few streets over to take pictures of ourselves outside the Family Matters house (think Steve Urkel) (or, eww, don’t)….



(What?!)

(Doesn’t everybody take mini road trips to cheesy sitcom houses on Snow Days?!?!)

(No?!)

(Oh.)

The moral of the story? People might tell you that Winter in Chicago is a big. bad, ugly thing, but I’m here to tell you that those people are ignorant. So there. :-P

© Coracabana

Polo!

Hey there. Yep, I’m still alive.... although you’re totally forgiven if you thought otherwise due to my sudden callous abandonment of Blogaritaville. I suck. Clearly.

And I’m also in Seattle.

I’m staying at my mom’s house for the holidays. I’ve been here for five lonnnnnngggggggggg days without Scope (who had to stay in Chicago a wee bit longer due to work) and without my daughter (who had to go stay with her dad for Christmas until the 26th).

*sniffle*

But things are looking up. Scope is aboard a plane right this very second, zooming his way across the sky towards me. He’s over South Dakota right about now. I know because I’m stalking him tracking his flight. See?….


That’s my hubba hubba hubby’s plane. Pretty snazzy, huh? I know! His plane will be landing in about two hours and I’ll be picking him up in the airport.

Squeeeeeeeeeeee!!

Oh—and it just so happens to be Scope’s birthday today too.... so, of course, I’ll be wearing this at the airport….


God, it’s FUN being married to a gloriously geeky, tastily techy, mega-marvelous man!!!!

:-)

I have many stories to tell you, Blogaritaville, but I’m not sure how much blogging time I will have over the next week or so. So, just in case I don’t make it back here in a timely manner, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

© Coracabana

Oh Baby!

So, we spent Thanksgiving weekend at Scope’s parents’ house where there’s this—this—hey, wait a minute…. Have I ever bothered to describe Scope’s parents’ house to you before? Hmm?….

No?

Oh. Huh. Well, lemme try to paint a mental picture of it for you: it’s simultaneously an antique hunter’s heaven, a garage sale guru’s jungle gym, an eBay excavator’s bouncy house, and a thrift store surfer’s wicked wild wave. How’s that for summing it up? ;-)

The house is bursting full (FULL) of old collections. We’re talking dolls, buttons, skeleton keys, pins, photographs, figurines, books, plates, linens, artwork, and all kinds of other antique-ish goodies and treasures. You could spend a week exploring in there and still not see it all, I swear! It’s really quite something.

The doll collection sits posed around a chair on the recreation room floor near the couch where my daughter sleeps when we are staying there. Gwen has outgrown dolls, of course, but she doesn’t mind sharing the room with them.

Except for this one:


I’m told his name is “Little Brother.” He looks perfectly innocent and harmless, right? Absolutely. Yet for some truly mysterious, inexplicable reason he frightens the living heck out of Gwen. She actually has panic attacks when she sees him. And there’s no use throwing a blanket over him or turning his back to the room or anything like that, no, no, no, because just knowing he is there is enough to freak Gwen out.

We’re talking about a 14 year old girl here. A 14 year old girl whose room at home is full of skeleton figurines and black bats hanging from the damn ceiling! So, I’m having a little trouble seeing what is so terrifying about a baby doll.

Aren’t you?

I mean…. it’s not like he watches you, unblinking, in the shadows with a sinister stare….


It’s not like his depraved eyes follow you across the room as he plots his evil plans….


It’s not like he lingers closer…. and closer, licking his vile lips while you change your clothes….


It’s not like he has a terrifying temper and an axe to grind….


It’s not like he climbs soundlessly into your bed and leans over you, maliciously smirking while you sleep and startles you awake when you feel his foul breath on your face….


It’s not like his unholy hand lunges out and grabs you as you scream and struggle to get away….


It’s not like he has a perverse taste for human flesh and the last thing you’ll ever see is Satan reflected in his eyes….


Nope. Nothing like that. He’s just a baby doll. Sweet dreams, Blogaritaville.

:-P

© Coracabana

Why I Miss Animaniacs (Exhibit 1)

Ummm…. how the heck did the censors miss THIS????….



Nice one!

*snicker*

© Coracabana

Darling, You’ve Got To Let Me Know, Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

Soo, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 1) is FINALLY out in theaters today!

*geeky, spazzy, happy dance*

And I’m SOOOOOOOOO excited about it, I hardly slept a wink last night! ‘Cuz if there’s one thing I really rock at, it’s getting ridiculously overexcited about all things Potterific!

*squeal*

(I mean, please, you’re talking to a girl who made a Voldemort piñata out of paper mache all so she could enjoy watching Voldemort getting his butt beaten.)

(Three diferent times.)

(Yep.)



Ahhhhhh, I love me some Harry Potter!!!!

*WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!*

I’ve already reread book 7 (for the fourth time) up to the point where the movie will be split, just so it’s all fresh in my head. And my Hogwarts schoolgirl costume (hubba hubba) has been unearthed and is hanging in the closet waiting to be worn.

(Yes, out in public.)

(Well, maybe.)

(If I can still squeeze myself into it.)

(Shut up.)

And Scope, Gwen and I already have our tickets to catch the movie tonight once Gwen is back from school and Scope is back from work. But, still, I’m torn…. It’s almost like there is a wee evil horcrux-making devil whispering in one ear…. while a tiny lightning bolt-scarred angel is whispering in the other….


Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “Psssst! Hey, you! Ginger!”

Me: “Whaaa—? You talkin’ to me?”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “Duh. D’you see Carrot Top here, honey?!”

Me: “Uhh. No. No, thank God!! Christ, that would suck big hairy hyena ba—”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “Shut up! I’ve got an idea. Listen up. Scope’s at work today, right?”

Me: “….Right.”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “And your kid is at school, right?”

Me: “….Yeah…. And?”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “Well, then why not sneak your Muggle self on over to the theater and catch the movie now? Huh? You could see it twice! You know you want to. Who’s here to stop you?”

Me: “But the three of us are going to see it togeth—“

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “Pfffffft! They’ll never know! That’s the beauty of it!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “NO! STOP! DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!”

Me: “*gasp* Are you my Harry-Potter-shoulder-angel-voice-of-reason-conscience-thingie?!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “Yes, genius. Nice schoolgirl outfit. I can see right down your shir—well, never mind. Listen, ignore the Dork Lord over there, ‘kay? He’s a putz. Just walk away. Seeing the movie behind your family’s back would be awesome, yeah, but it would also be selfish and wrong. Repeat after me: It would be SELFISH and WRONG.”

Me: “It would be—wait, you can see down my what?!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “*whistling innocently*”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “C’mon, don't listen to that guy! He's trying to lead you down the path of righteousness. I'm gonna lead you down the path that ROCKS!!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “Oh, come off it!”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “YOU come off it!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “You!”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “You!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: You!”

Wee Evil Horcrux-Making Devil: “You infinity!”

Tiny Lightning Bolt-Scarred Angel: “Grrr.”


Gah!

You see what I mean, right? These opinionated, runty, Emperor’s New Groove-plagiarizing, little dudes have been arguing in my ears for days. And I’m so confused! Should I stay? Should I go? Or should I whack ‘em both with a flyswatter? WHAT?!?!

Oy.

© Coracabana

The Joy of Six

So, six years ago today I nearly died from a massive blood clot in my spinal cord which ruptured, flooded my spine and caused all kinds of drama in my body and in the lives of the perplexed doctors in the ER that day. Uh-huh.

That picture up there is my favorite picture in the whole world. (Yes, really.) That picture saved my life. It is my actual MRI which showed the Neurologist all the missing pieces of the puzzle. Without that picture, I would have bled to death internally in the ER, never knowing what was wrong with me.

See the dark blob in my spine where the arrow is pointing? That was the blood clot. If you’d palmed the clot into a orb, it would have been the size of a golf ball, they told me. And that is HUGE.

(Eww, I know.)

Statistically, I should not be here. Statistically, blood clots in spinal cords are exceptionally rare, but the freak times they actually occur they almost always kill. And, if by some miracle they don’t kill, they always (ALWAYS) result in paralysis. Statistically, I wasn’t supposed to walk out of that hospital.

But I did.

My Neurologist calls me “Miracle” and says I’m famous in his universe. He excitedly shows me off, yelling, “you’ll never see anyone like this again! NEVER!” whenever he has students in his office.

I had spinal surgery six years ago today knowing at the time that I would either wake up paralyzed or not wake up at all. But, nope. I woke up in much better condition than anyone expected. Instead of paralysis, I ended up with nerve damage on my entire right side from my armpit down. But—eh—big deal.

What’s nerve damage like? Well, it’s a bizarre mixed bag, really. It means I have an extremely sensitive elbow which hurts A LOT whenever anything touches it, I have a numb (ish) foot, I have a numb (ish) leg, and I’m only ticklish on one side. It means that when I sit in a chair, I pretty much only feel half my ass there because I have a numb (ish) butt cheek. And it means I have a numb (ish) boob (nicknamed Beelzeboob! – *snicker*) which, oddly, refuses to stay put in my bra now and which I introduced to y’all way back in THIS TMI THURSDAY POST….


(Ahhhhhh, that picture never gets old!)

(But anyway….)

Bizarre boob and numb ass aside, I know I’m really, really, REALLY lucky. I know I’m lucky with every step I take. And so today, November 18th, is MY day. That’s right, I own it. So there.

*sticking out tongue*
I usually try to do something nice for myself every November 18th and, if I can swing it, I typically take the day off work. But since I’m not working right now (and, NOOOOO, shut it, I’m not being a bum! - Scope and I have agreed it will be best for me to wait on the whole job-hunting quest until after the holidays, ‘kay?), I can’t exactly take the day off work today, now can I? No.

So, Scope is going to take the day off instead!

*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!*

Scope is playing hooky with me today and has plans for the two of us which do not involve us leaving home, from what I’ve heard…. and…. uhhh…. hmm…. why the hell am I over here blogging?!…. ummm…. yeeeaaahhhh…. I.... uhh.... gotta go!.... :-)



© Coracabana

Chopped!

Back when we were in Seattle, my daughter and I didn’t have cable TV.

(*gasp* I know.)

As a single mom, I just simply couldn’t justify actually PAYING to watch TV (whaaaaaaaaa—?) So, screw it, we didn’t. And I have no regrets on that, because if I had plunked down all that hard-earned moolah for a bunch of stupid TV shows, I seriously doubt I would have been able to afford to take my baby to Disneyland the two times we went…. and I would much rather have had those Disneyrific vacations than cable TV.

Hands.

Down.

So, we survived with our free basic local TV channels (well, minus PBS and CBS, which would never ever come through! *sniff*) and our piece of crud converter box which kinda sorta maybe worked when it felt like playing nicely with others and wasn’t PMSing or dropping nine words out of every ten word sentance or pixelating the images sooooooooooooooooo badly that I often thought I was watching a game of Tetris.


Nice, huh?

Yep.

And, for obvious reasons, we never really watched much TV. It was too frustrating to be honest.

Of course, I knew that would all change once we moved in with Scope. Scope, like 99.99999999999999999999999% of you reading this, has cable TV.

Me, personally, I’m still not too fussed about the TV. I like me some Dr. Oz every now and then and I admit I’m looking forward to American Idol starting up again (Steven Tyler???? As a judge???? Seriously???? C’mon!!!!), but otherwise—eh—I don’t really care what’s on TV. Even with cable. Whatever.

But my daughter…. she feels a little differently.

Gwen is LOOOOOOOOOOOVING cable TV.

*insert the sound of angles singing: “laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”*

And, oddly, her favorite channel is not MTV. Nor the Disney Channel. Nor anything else you might expect a 14 year old girl to gravitate towards. Nope. Her favorite channel is Food Network. And her favorite show is Chopped.


If you haven’t seen Chopped yet, lemme sum it up for you like this: you take four chefs and force them to compete against each other creating a three course meal out of completely insane “mystery ingredients” (grasshoppers, raw lamb hearts and gummy vampire fangs, anyone?!) which they need to throw together into (hopefully) tasty (or at least roughly edible) meals in a ridiculously small amount of time without managing to poison any of the judges.

Gwen adores it. And Friday afternoon Gwen asked me if she, Scope and I could have our own Chopped competition here at home over the weekend.

Hmmm. Interesting.

So, we did.

We simplified it, of course. We focused on creating desserts only, not a three course meal. We each picked one mystery ingredient with which to spring in each others' gob-smacked faces (with evil glints glinting in our eyes) which had to be included in the desserts and we had 30 (ish) minutes to throw our masterpieces together.

And, oy, it wasn’t easy.

*whew!*

Here is how the Cora, Scope and Gwen version of Chopped played out yesterday afternoon:

Gwen’s mystery ingredient was: semi-sweet chocolate chips….


My mystery ingredient was: cherry flavored Craisins….


And Scope’s mystery ingredient was: crescent roll dough….


Scope created these yummy little doughy muffin thingies topped with melted chocolate chips infused with Craisins and marshmallows and topped with vanilla pudding and powdered sugar….


While Gwen made these ultra cute teeny sandwiches filled with melted chocolate chips, Craisins and marshmallows….


And I got out my Harry Potter party candy molds and made marzipan-filled chocolate frogs on Craisinified cresent roll lily pads sprinkled with powdered sugar….


We noshed on each others’ desserts until we felt a little nauseous (or at least I did anyway) (blah) and then we voted. We judged each other on creativity, taste and presentation. I lost a few points because my chocolate frogs were still chillin’ in the fridge when my 30 minutes were up. (*sniffle*) And once all the votes were tallied, Gwen announced the winner:


SCOPE!!!!

Of course, now Gwen is begging for a rematch and, because we are still suffering with icky sugar high hangovers today (*cranky shudder*), Scope and I are thinking of ditching the whole dessert plan and making the rematch all about appetizers instead.

(Hmmm.... just what do grasshoppers taste like anyway?.... Chicken?)

(Sorry, Gwen!)

So, congratulations to my hubba hubba hubby, Scope, our Chopped Champion of desserts! YAY!!!!

But, uhh, don’t get too attached to that title, dear, ‘cuz next time I’m kicking that cute little rear of yours!

*pinky swear*

;-)

© Coracabana