While I'm on vacation this week, the theme of my posts has been Momo's Show and Tell. And yet, you're still here. Glutton for punishment, eh?

We discussed random. We discussed my Buckeye fever. Today, we'll talk about my attraction to wine.

See this wine bottle? It's holding my favorite flavor. What? I can call it a flavor if I want to.


What's so lovely about this particular Riesling is that it almost comes up to my six year old's waist. That's what I like to call "more bang for your buck". It was purchased at Sam's Club, where the butcher sommelier told me it was quite yummy.

But, even it's bitter I'll still drink it. I am an equal opportunity imbiber.

My father-in-law makes homemade wine that is some of the best I've ever tasted. And, talk about a bang. Whew! His wine will knock your socks and shoes off.

You'll wake up the next morning and notice you've stuck your Chuck Taylors to the ceiling with masking tape. Then you'll wonder how it happened, because the last thing you remember was skipping down the sidewalk catching butterflies and singing Just Between You and Me.

So the next time you raise a glass of wine to your lips, think of me. My father-in-law is here on vacation with us for the next couple of days, which means I'll likely be walking around barefoot.

Let me know if you're interested in adopting a butterfly.

Labels: Photos, Ramblings, Tooting My Own Horn

Since I'm in the mood to share, and because it's just two days until kick-off, I thought I would tell you about my passion for all things Buckeye.

Buckeyes, like these.

This particular bunch hangs from a shelf near my back door. Because you never know when you're going to be running out and feel the need to put on a necklace made from poisonous nuts.

Some of these were purchased from street vendors, some were made by my father-in-law and two of them were made by my kids when they were in preschool. Sigh...it makes me weepy just thinking about their little hands working with strings, magic markers and toxic beads.

I am an Ohioan born and bred. I have traveled far, but have always lived within a few miles of the hospital where I was born. I like it that way. (Though not so much that I couldn't be convinced to winter in Arizona. Just sayin'.) The only college choice for me was The Ohio State University.

I love me some Ohio State football. It doesn't get much better than waking before sunrise, tailgating with good friends and family in an electric environment, watching The Best Damn Band in the Land, then having the boys play "toss the rag doll" with the likes of Michigan. Gag. Hack. Sorry. I can't type the word Michigan without my lunch coming up.

And yes, I'm fully aware that Ohio State is the best #1 team to always end up #2. Okay, okay. We're not so good at winning championships. It's a lot like going to prom and instead of dancing with the cheerleaders, our boys end up dancing with their Moms who just happen to be there chaperoning. But, at least they get to dance.

That's right. I am not a fair-weather fan. I don't care if they tango with their great-aunt and her oxygen tank. I'll be there to cheer them on.

Football season is about to begin. Fear the nut, people. Fear the nut.

Labels: Ohio State Buckeyes, Ramblings, Tooting My Own Horn

I am 37 years old and have lived in 12 different houses and apartments. I have met, and moved away from, many different neighbors. And, I've had my fair share of bad ones.

When I was little, there was Ursula. She lived alone with her thick German accent and her very scary dogs. Dogs who may as well have been trained by Hitler himself. God forbid if they didn't heel when she told them to.

I didn't try to sell Ursula any Girl Scout cookies, and I didn't even bother collecting paper route money. You just didn't approach that house. Das war verboten!

In college, I had neighbors who made my apartment building smell like Thai food and feet. The odors that wafted under the hallway doors were bad enough that I trained myself to hold my breath from the parking lot to my unit on the second floor. The year I had to carry my bike up the steps was quite a challenge.

Shortly after that, I had my first experience with rotten neighborhood kids. Kids who threw eggs at my house and who put dog poop on my front porch. I'm not going to get into details, but just know that I got them back.

My husband and I have lived in our current home for over 10 years, and we have a great group of folks living around us. But, for the past eight months we've been feuding with our next door neighbor. Well, not so much feuding as not talking at all.

Before the silent treatment began, this was the same lady who would stop you on your way to the car, or in the middle of cutting grass, to give you a dissertation on her family life. These were not stories about her or her husband, but rather about her children, her grandchildren, her grandchildren's barber, the barber's sister, and the barber's sister's attorney's son's teacher's uncle. Literally. She is a gossip to the nth degree...and if you're going to gossip, could you at least make it about people I know?

So this not talking thing? It's really not so bad.

Forget casseroles and picking up newspapers when we're out of town. Turns out that her granddaughter wrecking into our car was the most neighborly thing anyone has ever done for us.

Labels: Ramblings, The Places in My Neighborhood

Tomorrow is our 11th wedding anniversary. Despite our lousy vacation luck, we're dropping the kids and the dog off with sitters, then we're headed here.

Here is a forest, with a hillside lodge, lake, golf course, pool and many outdoor activities.

While determining our excursions, we certainly know we won't be horseback riding. The first time we tried this, my husband's horse firmly decided to NOT climb the hill back to the stables, so we instead traveled through thick brush that left us looking like Indiana Jones had used us for whipping practice.

The second time we rode horses (on our honeymoon), the guide took the two of us along a cliff in Hawaii...a cliff right next to a shooting range. I don't know who was more spooked by the gunshots, me or the horses. Probably me.

Maybe I've watched too many westerns, but I was just waiting for my horse to rear up at the sound of a rifle, at which point I would go tumbling down the mountain. My husband would've heard a lot less nagging these last 11 years, that's for sure.

We also won't be climbing in a canoe. The last time the two of us went canoeing, we managed to tip ourselves, the entire contents of our very full cooler, wallets, phones, everything...in about two feet of water. Yes, you read that correctly...two feet. It barely covered our knees, and yet we were drenched from head to toe.

And golf? Well, I'm a hack at best, so that's out.

Besides being with my husband, taking in the beautiful scenery and the poolside bar, I am most excited about the lodge's treadmill. I'm pretty sure it won't need to be uncluttered before I can use it.

I know I'm in the minority when I say I get excited about working out while on vacation. But, that's just because of the aforementioned clutter, and because I often have to stop my treadmill in the middle of a run to get someone a snack, or fix a computer problem, or wipe a child's butt. These kids? They're so needy.

But, treadmill or not, I'm looking forward to some alone with my man. Leisurely strolls around the lake, good food, tasty wine, and of course...there will be me kicking his butt at Scrabble. Happy Anniversary, Honey! I'm totally going to triple-word-score on you.

Labels: My Better Half, Photos, Ramblings

Let's look among the items in my pantry for today's pop quiz. What you can't see? The organic granola, canned salmon, lentils, and prunes. That's right. It's a place where you can find healthy food...like Wasa Bread on which to break a tooth.

Labels: Photos, Pop Quiz, Ramblings

My nine year old daughter was born ten weeks early, during an emergency c-section. I went to the hospital for a routine ultrasound and they didn't let me leave until they had strapped me to a table, cut my stomach open, whisked my baby away to be put on a ventilator, and fed me Percocet and chicken broth for five days. Ahh. Good times, good times.

Her brother was competitive from the get-go. Although he was only seven weeks early, he came complete with four heart defects, a kidney disorder, a missing right tear duct and a stomach flap that wouldn't close...thus allowing breastmilk to freely flow out of where it had recently gone in.

Needless to say, my husband and I spent a lot of time in the hospital when our kids were young. And, each and every time we entered that place we had to scrub our hands with a very distinctive smelling anti-bacterial soap.

Now, whenever I visit someplace that has that same soap, be it a hospital, restaurant, or gas station, I get a flood of memories when the aroma hits my brain. Usually that flood is somewhat traumatic.

The smell of ginger takes me to Hawaii, the fragrance of roses to my Grandmother's back yard, and I can't even buy apple cinnamon oatmeal because, when warm, I revisit some seriously nasty diapers.

I have read other blogs and comments that make mention of this phenomenon, and my best friend has a story about chopping green beans when she received a phone call from someone bearing bad news. Guess what she thinks of when she smells green beans now?

What I want to know, boys and girls...where does your mind travel when you get a whiff, and what's that you're smelling that sends you on your way?

Labels: Prematurity, Ramblings

My six year old son was playing Marble Blast on the computer when I thought it would be a good idea for him to stop his game and come read me a book. Because really? Who can get enough of Ten Apples Up on Top? The antics and drama always keep me coming back for more.

I called from the living room, "Hey, why don't you come in here and read me a story?"

And it's a good thing I knew he was playing a game, because he replied, "Okay, but wait until I die first!"

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

A few months ago, my husband started a new job. His office isn't particularly close to our house though. Because of that distance, and for various other reasons, I had never gone to visit his new digs with the kids. None of those reasons being that I was hoping to drop 20 pounds before meeting his new co-workers.

But, today he asked that we come up so I could hang some pictures for him and so he could introduce us to the people he hangs out with all day long.

I did my best to make the kids look presentable, I flat-ironed my hair, made up my face, and spent a half hour deciding what to wear. Though, that outfit turned out to NOT be good enough, so I stopped at a department store on the way to his office to buy a new shirt.

After we parked, I wiped off my son's face and made sure my daughter's hair wasn't sticking out in all the wrong places.

But, I forgot to tell my son not to make comments about what people look like.

The first person we saw was the middle-aged receptionist, to whom my son quickly referred to as, "Grandma".

And, the second person we met was a lovely lady whose face my son crept close to, then he looked her in the eye and said, "You have a little, little, little mole."

I should've known that with my kid around, the least of my worries would be what I looked like.

Labels: Kids, My Better Half, Shameless Statements

In an interview with Conde Nast Traveler, Matt Damon was quoted as saying, "I think many of our problems as a country would be solved if people had thick passports. There's just no substitute for actually going and seeing things."

Thanks Matt. We'll get right on that.

Labels: Shameless Statements

If you haven't been watching the Olympics, it's time to climb out from under your rock. Let's catch up, shall we?

The opening ceremony in Beijing was, simply put, visually stunning. Unless you happened to be on narcotic pain killers for a migraine headache, in which case it was quite scary.


The audience was filled with world leaders and dignitaries, including our very own President George W. Bush, who appeared hot around the collar. It's possible it was the temperature. But, it was more likely the lead paint from his "red phone", which was ironically Made in China.

Here, he trades in that red phone for his finger phone and tells Russian Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin to, "Call me".


This is swimmer, Michael Phelps. He strikes this pose A LOT. Because he can. He currently holds three gold medals with more on the way. On day three, he and his teammates took it upon themselves to smash some Frenchies. Merci beaucoup, Mr. Phelps. Merci beaucoup.


If you haven't watched synchronized diving, don't start. You will be enthralled by the smoothness, the timing, and the skill, only to find out something was completely off.

A fraction of a twist here, a slight over extension there. All noted while the divers are flipping and speeding through the air. Here you can clearly see why the USA didn't earn a medal. What? You don't see it? Note the toe curl. No medal for you!


Currently, China and the United States are neck and neck in the overall standings. If you want to give a shout out to the underdog, you'll need to cheer for Uzbekistan. Because if your country was somewhere between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, you'd need people to cheer for you too...medals or not. No offense to the former Soviet Bloc. Just sayin'.

Labels: My TV Addiction, Olympics Cliffs Notes

My daughter just returned home from a three-day trip to my Mom's house. I figured it would be good for my kid to have some time alone with her Grandma.

Grandma reported that her youngest grand-daughter was polite, helpful, and easy to get along with, and that they had a wonderful time together. In fact, it was so wonderful that my Mom said, "I asked her if she wanted to move in with me."

I laughed, knowing full well that my daughter would have none of that. My Mom doesn't own a Wii...or even a computer. The horrors.

I asked, "What did she say?"

Proud Grandma replied, "Well, she said she'd love to! But, I told her she would miss you guys too much. And, do you know what she said to that?"

"No," I answered hesitantly. What?"

"She said that as long as she had a picture of you and could occasionally see you on weekends, she'd be just fine."

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Shameless Statements

When I was my daughter's age there were two things I wanted more than anything. A turtle and a paper route. What? A turtle seemed like a reasonable pet and a paper route seemed a decent way to earn enough money to play Pac-Man at the Pizza Pizza Restaurant up the street. You'll never guess what kind of food they served.

My Mom wouldn't let me have a turtle, but after many tears and tantrums, she caved into the paper route. It lasted about two months before I quit. But, I would have been so disappointed had I not had the experience.

My nine year old daughter has recently had her first run-in with real disappointment. A person we thought was very kind, has chosen to hurt someone we love dearly. I won't get into the details, as juicy as they may be, because that is not the point. I will say there is hurt, there is back-stabbing, and there are attorneys.

But, the details don't apply. My child was deceived, and that is all that matters.

This deception wasn't by another child, but by an adult. Someone who made herself out to be sweet and caring. Someone who spoke to my daughter with affection and attentiveness. Someone who made herself out to be someone she obviously is not.

How do you explain that to a nine year old? How do you instill good morals when there are people in your life who have none? How do you teach your children to trust people, when those whom you've trusted are completely untrustworthy?

I really don't know what to say to her. I don't know how to explain that what she saw is not what she gets. That the person she thought she knew, was not that person at all.

My daughter doesn't deserve that kind of disappointment. At an age when she's still fascinated by rainbows, these are the true colors I'd rather she not see.

Labels: Family Life, Kids

On school picture day in the fourth grade, I attempted to put my hair up in barrettes only to have one side that just wouldn't lay flat. Thanks a lot cowlick. So I did what any, normal, nine year old would do. I grabbed the cow-licked hair and cut it off, leaving a two-inch long strip of hair sticking straight up. My Mom was thrilled.

My nine year old daughter has inherited a lovely tuft of hair in the very same spot and it gives her fits when she's trying to put her hair up, just as mine did.

The other day she pulled it back into a ponytail and, as usual, the hair around the cowlick was a mess. Some laying flat, some sticking up, parts of bare scalp showing through.

We were in a hurry to run some errands and as she was climbing in the car she asked, "Does my hair look okay?"

I replied, "It's fine".

But, where I had remedied the situation, her brother ruined it when he looked at her and asked, "You mean your dinosaur head?"

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

My very pregnant sister-in-law came over for a visit this evening and my son immediately took interest in her big belly.

He rubbed it, he informed her she was having a boy, and then he named that boy, Bubba.

After that he said, "Actually, you have three baby bumps". And, then he touched her stomach and said, "One...".

Anyone want to guess what he touched for two and three?

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements