Anything on this site is mine. Mine, mine, mine. Your eyes are on this site right now. They belong to me too. Mwa ha ha! MINE!
Be nice and ask permission before trying to use my posts or pictures. I won't bite. (I may nibble.)
I've already started hearing the buzz amongst the Spinners that this was going to be a hot topic. And wouldn't you know, we're not even done making merry with the goodies and we've already got the Election wheels turning!
Krystal over at Mommy's Escape -Updated Tuesday! (Hey, everyone! Krystal has a new site. My links are current so if you were trying to find her again, this is your chance to link up the right way!)
You don't want to know what my costume is for Halloween. It's pretty sad. Since I'm on the Entertainment Commit-Me, I HAVE to participate in the Costume Contest. I will be a Sprite Catcher. Don't ask. If I try to explain it, you'll never get to the Spins. (And we know that's why you're here..)
Anyway, whenever Halloween comes around, one song always comes to mind and it doesn't leave my mental playlist until after the last candy wrapper has been disposed of. (sometime around Christmas)
I learned this song way back in elementary school, I'm guessing 3rd grade, and I've remembered it word for word over the years. I tried Googling the origin and found this. But the Copyright is 2008 and I learned this song in 1983, so I really don't know if I'm sourcing it correctly. (Disclaimer: The source of the song in question, party of the first part, is probably being mis-sourced or dis-sourced or just plain dissed. Sprite's Keeper, party of the second part (Party over here!), therefore claims no responsibility and/or liability for any confusion and head scratching this sourcing or the parentheses stated within may cause.)
So, Sprite's and my contribution (Okay, actually MY contribution, the kid totally phoned it in.) for the Spin Cycle this week is:
"There is A Haunted House In Town" as sung to the tune of "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" with a little twist.
Here's the words in case you want to sing them to your own kids, or spouses, or even your bosses. It won't guarantee you a raise, but they might just give you a bit more space..
There is a haunted house in town (in the town)
Where all the walls come crumbling down (crumbling down)
Where the cobwebs hang and the window shutters bang
And all the creatures gather round
Where the bats and cats and witches keep the skeletons in stitches
As they sip their spider cidar in the haunted house
They're there, they're there, they're really there (really there)
Watch out, be careful, and beware (oh, beware)
Don't you trick or treat or you're the one they'll eat
When the moon shines on the haunted house
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spintacular week! All of this Halloween merriment has given me a sweet tooth with none of the cavities!
Here's the spooky Spins for Halloween:
A special treat! I've linked all three parts so far of The Shed from Good Father, his ongoing blogga about the sinister storage space that hides in all of our backyards... (Bet you wish you cleaned it out last Spring when you had the chance, huh?) Enjoy:
That's right. This straddling the fence, politically neutral, don't wanna hear anymore about this upcoming election, get outa my face with your campaigning buttons, get off my phone with your solicitation calls, just leave me alone so I can watch the debates and snark in silence blogger is about to take on the polls.
Spin this whatever way you want, the highs, the lows, the goods, the bads, the uglies. Just make it about voting and/or elections.
No matter what way you Spin it, next Tuesday will be a pivotal day in America. Whichever way the colored pendulum swings, Blue or Red, we will make new history with either the first African American president or the first female vice president.
But maybe you're sick and tired of all the talk about Tuesday. Maybe you want to Spin it another way.
Maybe you would rather talk about the time you ran for Class President or the scandal behind the Prom Queen's ballot box that got tampered with right before the dance paving the way for Cindy McGillekuty to claim the crown when everyone could swear they voted for Buffy Simpson.
This Spin is wide open, but there is a catch. Be respectful. If you want to write about this election, by all means, do so. Just remember your readers. If you want to make fun of the elections, we can all use the laugh, but if anything is found to be offensive, I will have to remove the link.
(I know the above disclaimer isn't really necessary, but in case there are new Spinners who aren't aware of the environment we like to play in, I want to make sure all bases are covered.)
Remember, all entries are due by Friday, November 7.
My fellow Americans and favorite Canadian, we'll see you next week on the Spin Cycle!
I have a crush. No, not on Steve from Blues Clues. (All you Joe fans need to get over yourselves. Steve was HAWT!) Not the weird guy from Yo Gabba Gabba! (I am STILL convinced that the one time I saw that show, half of the visuals were a result of my fever-induced hallucinations) And none of the Wiggles. (I have listened well to all the people warning me about them and covered Sprite's eyes and ears accordingly if a Wiggle happened across the screen.)
The Imagination Movers is a relatively new show on the Disney Channel, totally geared to the toddler and preschool set, but even I am becoming captivated by their tame plot lines. Sprite is actually sitting still for the show. Even worse? So am I! (John, you too. I'm just trying to help you save face.) (Hm, that probably outed you, didn't it? Sorry.)
If you're new to Playhouse Disney (or have been avoiding it at all costs), the programming shows video clips of music and shorts meant specifically for the younger crowd, and I've been seeing the Imagination Movers, a quartet of singers/instrument players, for a couple of months now. They were featured in one video short called "Numbers in My Bag" which jumps from the tv and embeds itself into your brain until you're screaming hours later to stop it with the la la la's. (Crap, there it goes again..)
When the Disney Channel noticed these guys were actually getting some fan mail, they immediately claimed them for a series (much like a toddler would proclaim ownership of a certain toy by hunching over it and screaming "Mine!"), resulting in the reason for this post. (Disclaimer- I'm not being paid for this review, if you want to call it a review. I don't want to call it a review either. Let's call it a fan letter. About them. To me.) John and I, already clued into the Movers, decided to Tivo a show or two and test them out on Sprite, who is very finicky when it comes to television. (Even our Minnie Mouse freak won't plop it down for more than five minutes for her Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.)
(Another disclaimer: We are not trying to force television on our toddler or being nonchalant with the amount of television she is exposed to. We are merely trying to distract her for a little while so the dogs can escape. We are saving lives with television, not hurting them. Thank you.)
(How much backlash do you think the Disney Company would get if they tried to market the above disclaimer? Think about it! "Playhouse Disney! Your pets will thank you!" No? Well, it's good that I majored in Criminal Justice then, isn't it?)
The story line of the episode we had on the DVR was about a lost dog who found his way into the Movers' warehouse and their playing with, losing of, and search and rescue of said dog which entailed. Their friend Neena made an appearance (I don't know why I do this, but I think Neena needs to have a romantic connection with one of the Movers so I watch closely for sparks whenever she's in a scene. I know, I'm hopeless.) (Damn you, Grey's Anatomy!)
Okay, so the show had an assortment of songs, each dangerous in it's own way of being recalled DAYS later when you're sitting in the middle of a very important meeting and your boss asks everyone to brainstorm and all you can summon from your mental archives is "Brainstorming upside down and even in your easy chair!" only to have the song loop over and over and nothing else even your name will replace the mantra-like beat of this seemingly innocent song which might as well have subliminal lyrics like "buy all of our merchandise!" (Oh! So, THAT'S how the Wiggles did it!), and the Movers all displayed their unique talents.
Mover Dave has a red hat which holds everything apparently. He just reaches in and pulls crap out. He also is an inventor. My only issue with this Mover is his eyes. He has very light eyes which come across as colorless, making him look a little off in some of the scenes. (Sorry, it bugs me.)
Mover Smitty is the one with glasses. He has a book of ideas, I guess. I'm not far enough in or interested to find out more about his talents. He also wears a cowboy hat, but referring to my above reasons, I don't know why.
Mover Scott has goggles which allow him to see through walls. (It can probably allow him to see through clothes too, but they're not saying. Neena better watch it.) He's also the more exuberant of the bunch. What strikes me about him is with his long hair and goatee, so I could totally picture him as a rocker.
Mover Rich has scribble sticks/drumsticks which allow him to write in the air, on the ground, tables, etc. Basically, he's the resident graffiti artist. (He also would have been the popular "IT" guy in high school. You know the one..)
And Neena who works for her boring uncle down the hall and is always coming over to see the Movers. I hope she's getting salary. Hourly would kill her check with all the time she spends with the Movers.
So, there's the Movers. I think of them as the Monkees of the New Millennium.
Every weekend since September, we've been tuning in at Sprite's insistence, "Moomers!", and tuning out reality as we watch these 4 guys, well into their 30's themselves (I think?), solve somewhat easy problems through outlandish means. Sprite loves them, I can't help but like them too, especially Mover Scott, the focus of my Mom Crush. (Sigh.) (I'll get over it as soon as the next Matt Damon flick comes out.)
What kiddie show has gotten up YOUR craw lately? Come on, you know you have a favorite show or host... I told you mine. You tell me yours.
Hi, you've reached Jen over at Sprite's Keeper. Sprite! Get down from there! I'm sorry I'm not here right now, but Sprite! Stop pulling Blue's ear! please leave a message John! Could you come get your daughter please? and I will get back to you soon. And if you're calling from a campaign office, I'VE ALREADY VOTED!!!!!..... Beep!
Yup, that's right. I'm not here.
Yes, I know you think you're reading a post right now, but this isn't really a post. And you're really not here.. Or are you?
Actually, I'll tell you where I am. Krystal over at Mommy's Escape had Tiny Danceron Monday and needed a little help running the fort while she's tending to 6, count 'em, 6 kids. So, Jenbo from Steenky Bee gladly took the reigns yesterday and played host to all the well wishers. However, Jen had to get back to her own blog before Henry took ALL the dance face moves, and Krystal needed someone else to help tidy up the joint. There were a lot of FIRST'S thrown around. A LOT. Do you know what a mess those are to clean? Jen made a valiant effort to wipe them up, but it needed more elbow grease.. So, of course my OCD raised my hand for me and made me say "Me?"
Anyway, when Krystal debuted little Gabriella Crystal, my heart melted at all the babilicious squishiness (Huh, I was expecting Spell Check to have a conniption on that combo, but nothing. Maybe it understands baby cheeks chomping..) and my head immediately went into overdrive with rhymes.
That's right. I offered up a poem to the Gods of Guestposting. I couldn't help it! The inspiration was overwhelming.
And if you come back after the jump, feel free to play in the archives. But if you do, bring a cloth and some cleanser? It's getting kind of dusty in there..
Sprite pulled herself up the step ladder carefully. She had just seen a little boy, slightly older than herself, achieve this wondrous yellow climbing instrument and psyched herself up to attempt the same activity. I stood behind her, my hands at the ready to catch her, my words at the ready to caution her.
She displayed no fear of heights as her pigtailed head climbed higher yet, determined to reach the platform and the quickest route to the circular slide. I followed her up and over to her destination, playing her aloof shadow lest she get the impression I was actually trying to keep her safe.
After a couple of rounds of Follow The Leader (Guess who was Leader?), my anxiety calmed enough to where I was giving her more space and loosening the parental leash so she could climb and slide at will.
Keeping a left eye on the toddler, I let my right eye roam and noticed how busy the playground was. Dozens of kids were roaming the grounds, swinging, climbing the yellow "spider web" built for young adventurers and adults trying to prove themselves. In fact, at this moment, a man well into his forties, was sitting high up in the "web", his foot feeling around for a hold to lever himself down as the rest of him balanced precariously. His daughter, more physically adept (and a lot lighter) coaxed him down while other children snickered at the jittering ropes surrounding him.
The jungle gym was quickly filling with more children, most of them under the age of five. Parents circled the set in random order, usually near a high exit of the platform in case a preschooler got the urge to fly. Intermittent call outs to children of varying sizes abounded.
"Caden, don't climb that high! You'll get stuck!"
"Lizzie, love, please don't lick the step. It's dirty. DIRTY!!"
"No pushing!"
"Wait your turn!"
"No shoving!"
"No kicking!"
That last shout out came from me. Sprite was pacing, as toddlers do when forced to stand in the increasing line for the slide. She kept kicking at the rails, working on her newest hobby.
We learned of her willingness to kick at anything on the ground just recently. She kicked at her Winnie the Pooh ball in her room. She kicked at her Noah miniature after she had cast him from his Ark. Her favorite thing to kick? The oven.
Boom.Boom.Boom.
I would walk over and see her facing her reflection in the oven's door and kicking out with her right foot. Her reflection would smile back at her. Look what you're doing! And the noise you're making!
Then the evil mommy (Um, that would be me.) (Totally typecast.) would zoom in on her broom (Hm, I have a beagle, will that work?) (Blue says no.) and stop the innocent merriment and send her off to do something boring like color. The wall. (No!)
Since the kicking began, nothing has been safe if it is vertically challenged. The cabinets have been kicked. The front door has been kicked. Harry has been kicked. I have been kicked.
Since Sprite was kicking at the rails of the jungle gym, I gave up quickly after the first warning. Eh, no harm, no foul, I thought, as I turned my attention to a mother standing next to me. I started relating about Sprite's kicking habit and its effect on the oven as we both looked up at Sprite.
And watched her kick the little girl in front of her in the shins. Not hard, mind you, but not right either.
My snark took over. "I guess she figured she's mastered the oven," I commented.
"And now she's moved on to my daughter?" the other mom replied.
My cheeks flushed, my eyes widened. Busted.
Caught in a bad child, worse mommy moment.
I'll spare you the rest of the emotional beat down. Let's just say I'm looking for another park.
It's Sunday night, 9:38PM. I was supposed to write my update this morning and spend tonight on the Nord. The Nord will have to be pissed off for one more day. (Gah. It's like he expects me to just walk all over him.) It's been a weekend.
As I'm writing this, the television is on for background noise since John is playing World Of Warcraft and probably not gassy. (I think there's a direct correlation between his gassiness and my closeness to him. He never seems to be tooting when I'm not in the area, but once he climbs into bed after a long day and starts unleashing the growls, I begin to wonder...and slap at him, but wonder all the same.)
"Bridezillas" is playing and I keep pausing in this update to question if the brides featured in the show truly know how bitchy they come off before the final edit. The blonde bride featured in this segment barely stops eating fried food while she barks out orders and orders more burgers. It makes me want to put down my Weight Watchers Peanut Butter Cup Sundae.
I'm sure I'll finish it. I have faith.
The diet has not been grueling this past week. I haven't deviated from my routine in any way. I'm still on the same low carb, high protein kick I have been on since January. I still have my cheat day on Saturdays and this has been what has kept the temptations at bay and kept my weight going down for all these months. My desserts have always been Smart Ones ice cream sundaes, so I'm not cheating here either. Unless I have two. Then I could call that cheating.
Here's where I have deviated. The Nord has not been getting any attention from me. You see, I have walls in my home. The walls needed paint. Badly. John and I have a family event coming up in about 3 weeks and the walls cannot stay this way, because being the OCD minded person I am, I am OBLIGATED to show everyone the flaws in my home, but these walls are not a lot of tiny little flaws, they are one BIG FLAW waiting to be gawked at, and I cannot take that probability and John cannot take ME when I cannot take that probability, therefore we decided (before I officially joined HASAY and dragged John into it as well) to paint the walls this last week.
John couldn't get to the gym. I had to ignore the Nord. We promised each other this would still be exercise since our upper bodies would be "feeling the burn". This last week belonged to the walls. Every night, after a healthy dinner, John put Sprite through her paces with her bedtime ritual, and I prepped the area we would be painting. We worked hard for a good couple of hours each time until our arms were sore, our throats were parched, and our knees were buckling.
The scale laughed at me on Friday. Not one pound lost.
On Saturday, we were on the East Coast for a baby shower (which was being held in a sauna) and without any effort on our own part, sweat out a good couple of liters each while engaging in the fun. The voice in the back of my head was whispering, "This will bring you down a pound for sure."
I climbed aboard the scale today. Nope.
Tomorrow, it's back to the Nord. I've missed him. I hope he forgives me. (The flowers should arrive in the morning.)
On John's side, he officially joined Weight Watchers since they have a weekly meeting at his office. He's been counting points (I tried this when I was breastfeeding and got nowhere with it, but he seems to like it.) and of course, lifting weights in the form of paint cans all week.
He checked in with me today to say he is officially down 2 pounds. (I'm thinking it's from the release of gaseous pressure. People carry water weight. John seems to carry an air gage.)
I resent him a little for the fact that I have been doing the exact same type of physical labor and denying myself any and all chocolate (and the closer we get to Halloween, the more pressure I am feeling!) and he managed to get ahead a full two pounds.
So, our stats this week are:
John: 2 down, 58 to go.
Me: 0 down, 40 to go.
I resent him. I can be honest. (And I WILL finish the Peanut Butter Cup Sundae.)
I can barely think straight. We're over on the East Coast for the weekend, (Hey, Krystal!) and we have been here, there and every- ah, screw it, it's been a day.
But, as I was getting ready to shower off the baby shower (Yeah, that has a story, but it's late, we'll cover it tomorrow, or Tuesday, or never.) (Huh?) (Crap, it's Midnight! Stay away from mirrors and finish the damn post!), I realized I had nothing to post for tomorrow, which is today, because you're reading this today, and now, since it's 12:01 (CRAP!) (And yawn!), technically, I wrote it today, so we're on the same page no matter what way you look at it. (Dude, it's dark, the kid is finally asleep and I'm hovering somewhere near it myself, you're lucky the post is in ENGLISH..)
So, I thought I would give you two little vinegarettes (Yes, I know they're vignettes, but John likes vinegar to the point that he'll splash it on everything, soup, tomatoes, rice.. I KNOW. Ew.) that happened today:
Of course they're John related. Aren't they always?
Vinegarette #1:
We were on our way to the East Coast this morning and I was using the time to teach Sprite German check the Google Reader. I was commenting on Half As Good As You and actually cracking myself up with the comment I was typing about Casey's story when John said, "What are you laughing at?"
"The comment I'm typing, it's funny."
"You crack yourself up?"
I laughed again. "Sure, I make myself laugh sometimes, so?"
John paused then said, "You know, monkeys crack themselves up..."
I laughed so hard, I let him live.
Vinegarette #2:
It was 11:56PM. (Yes, fifteen minutes ago)
"John, I need to write this post for tomorrow. Can you stay up a little longer and watch some tv?"
"How would watching tv help you write your post?"
"Background noise."
John stood next to me as I booted up the laptop. And let one loose.
I sputtered. "You couldn't leave the room to do that?"
"You wanted background noise..."
I'm still deciding his fate...
It's now 12:17AM. I promise I'll make John drive home tomorrow so I can work on the next installment of Club Half As Small As You (HASAY) for Monday (tomorrow) since it is technically Sunday (today) although I should have written it on Saturday (yesterday) so I wouldn't be up at 12:19 confusing the hell out of myself and you (now).
So good night. (Or should I say good morning?)
I'll leave you with a question: Does late night random typing make snark funnier or just plain sad? Discuss...
(Warning: Halloween stories may cause shortness of breath, shortness of patience, heart palpitations, frights, Sprites, evil sights, queasiness, uneasiness, weariness of others, fear of dark corners, fear of dark places, fear of pretty much anything in shadows, suspicion of out of the ordinary activities and desire to call one's Mommy. Please consult with your doctor.)
(That was the disclaimer.)
Happy Hauntings and remember you have until the 31st to submit those Spins!
