tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57271202007-09-17T19:26:08.532-05:00thatgirlBlogger605125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1140809364008124072006-02-24T13:28:00.000-06:002006-02-24T13:29:24.020-06:00

Email me if you don't have the new address.

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139770262093309422006-02-12T12:48:00.000-06:002006-02-12T12:57:36.223-06:00

This blog has been temporarily suspended for bad behavior. Not really. There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. I just need to fix a couple technical glitches so a hiatus is in order. Email me to let me know if you want to be notified when it's back up (and where it is). If you don't have an email address for me, leave a comment with yours. Back soon!

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139699819523923322006-02-11T16:18:00.000-06:002006-02-11T17:16:59.630-06:00

... you can consult the online figure skating TV schedule I've been using since 1998. And while I'm excited about the current Olympics, I don't think that many surprises are imminent. Here's the way I see it playing out for that gold-medal spot: Women - Irina Slutskaya (Russia) Possible upset: Sasha Cohen (US) Don't count out: Shizuka Arakawa (Japan), Carolina Kostner (Italy) Wild card: the

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139676404298875002006-02-11T10:19:00.000-06:002006-02-11T23:33:42.096-06:00

Upon rereading my post and its comments I've realized I've given the impression that, in addition to my kids being willing to eat all kinds of food, mealtimes are a joy around here and getting my kids to finish their dinner is easy peasy. HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHHHAHAHA! No flippin' way. Not EVEN. Actually, OK, Dubya's fine. But he's 15 months. There's still plenty of time for him to throw

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139508334688331562006-02-09T12:03:00.000-06:002006-02-09T12:05:34.706-06:00

Oatmeal. Chopped walnuts. Raisins plumped up by the boiling water. Freshly grated nutmeg. Rivers of half-and-half. Spoonfuls of full-fat, organic yogurt on the side. Feeding my kids breakfast has become one of the delights of being Mom. For one thing, it delights me to pack their tummies with warmth and goodness at the start of their day. For another, they actually eat it. Boss Girl and I plan

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139336409093641342006-02-07T12:09:00.000-06:002006-02-07T12:20:09.246-06:00

Becca was right when she said that I was a bit misleading in the Todd Bridges thing. But it's coming up! For now, we have Part 2. Things I learned in 2005 That I miss church. I don’t miss being Catholic, but I miss church. How to roast a chicken. That I love podcasts, particularly news-oriented ones. That “trust” and “business” can be mutually exclusive. That yet, professionally speaking, it’s

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139278247907708172006-02-06T19:57:00.000-06:002006-02-06T20:11:53.713-06:00

Last week was the first episode I saw in a while that didn't outright suck. The fighting Friday night dinner montage at the end was the best thing since "This tastes like I'm drinking My Little Pony." Let's hope tomorrow's is as welcome. In other news, has anyone else caught on that Luke's daughter's mom is also Jess's Dad's girlfriend? Those silly casting people, trying to put one over on us.

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139244838364041512006-02-06T10:41:00.000-06:002006-02-06T10:53:58.546-06:00

Or as shameless as anyone can be when talking about boobs. But it's my first published Op-Ed ever. So whee! Seriously, does everyone realize that in some states this is against the law? In the ultimate irony, it's even an issue at places like Boobs R Us. Wherever a baby can be fed with a bottle, a baby should also be able to breastfeed. Anything else is hypocrisy.

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1139065165045822462006-02-04T08:58:00.000-06:002006-02-04T08:59:25.056-06:00

Yeah, he got kicked off Skating With Celebrities (of COURSE I'm watching this!) but Willis Drummond is the cause of my recent epiphany. I watched him lumber across the ice with that tiny slip of a thing, former pairs national champion Jenni Meno, after only three weeks of being on skates and I thought: “If he can do it, I can do it.” Thus, the prelude to my Mondo Beyondo: 11 Things I Am

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138942618330613272006-02-02T22:56:00.000-06:002006-02-02T22:56:58.346-06:00

So today I was thinking about fuchsia. Meaning, the color. And I remembered this company I used to work at. We got a new employee, and he had an Asian last name that, when pronounced, sounded like "Shaw" even though it didn't resemble the word visually. After a few days, during administrative work I asked him to remind me how to spell his last name. “H-S-I-A,” he said. “Just think of the last

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138759388019666512006-01-31T20:02:00.000-06:002006-02-01T11:41:27.126-06:00

I don't watch Oprah regularly, though I Tivo the show just in case she airs a must-see (Cruise jumping the couch, Ayelet Waldman defending her scary love for her husband, James Frey being raked over the coals). But I always seem to catch her show in hotels. Last month in Kansas City I was pleased to chance upon her interview with Joaquin/Reese for Walk the Line; this time she'd invited the cast

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138741588159972032006-01-31T09:58:00.000-06:002006-01-31T15:12:35.950-06:00

I'm not much for shopping, but life has to be lived. Sometimes my consumerism gets the unabashed best of me. Especially after a five-hour drive. Here's a little bit about what travel is like in our neck of the treeless plains. Each time we head to a metro city, we outline our itinerary. We ask ourselves questions: Where do we want to stay (because it's always overnight); where do we need to

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138655379586397932006-01-30T14:02:00.000-06:002006-01-30T15:09:39.686-06:00

This post is heavy on the minutiae of figure skating so if that's something that makes you yawn, I warned you. 1. I can watch them practice! I met up with an Internet acquaintance during the men’s long program and she gifted me with two practice passes for the next morning before the ladies’ long program. This was ideal; I could bring Boss Girl to watch the skating informally without expecting

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138314653121914682006-01-26T16:01:00.000-06:002006-01-26T16:30:53.210-06:00

Or maybe it's bipolar. This has been one crazy few days, and my head -- and my heart -- is all over the map. I'm going through one of the worst professional experiences of my life. At the same time, I'm on the cusp of landing one of the biggest assignments of my life, in a national magazine I have yet to break into. Neither has a bit to do with the other, thankfully -- except that I have no

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138245930497824812006-01-25T21:21:00.000-06:002006-01-25T22:37:46.756-06:00

Today, in the weekly paper, a birth announcement boasted the first baby born in our county in the new year. The baby was born on January 18. ***** I substitute-taught four years ago for four different grade levels. I taught English to every single student in each grade. My roster totaled 162 kids. ***** In the years since I've taught, speaking of the high school students only, two have died

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138166211547407302006-01-24T22:10:00.000-06:002006-01-24T23:16:51.646-06:00

I've always had a thing about accents. I consciously shed my Boston accent my first semester in college, but after 18 years of practice I can revert on command and drop my R's with the best of them. Also, if I'm tired, or upset, or talking to my mother, that little Bostonian in me will poke her head up without warning. With the exception of a few things I just can't shake -- Barbara will always

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1138131601275001792006-01-24T12:47:00.000-06:002006-01-24T23:25:10.523-06:00

This post has been slightly edited, since I realized that what I meant to say and what the words I chose said were not the same. After forgetting they were on last week, I finally had a chance to catch the rebroadcast of the Golden Globes this past weekend. It was odd to watch and not immediately spew my thoughts about the ceremony onto the Internet, because the GG's just so call for that sort

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137883812667840832006-01-21T15:10:00.000-06:002006-01-21T16:50:57.246-06:00

I am so hooked on those half-size perforated paper towels that I can't bear to use the full-size ones. All we've got in the house are full-sized (I know, what's up with that?), and every time I use one I have to rip it in half. Whoever came up with this amazingly simple little idea is an effin genius. Usual Suspects on Bravo is just not the same. The movie begs for cussing. My exercise routine

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137816143952866022006-01-20T21:38:00.000-06:002006-01-20T22:02:24.063-06:00

He rang the doorbell rang at 9:15. I had just put coffee on and Cowboy was still in bed. (We're definitely not morning people, but last night in particular was sweet relief because Boss Girl did not wake up ALL NIGHT LONG, and Dubya at least went back to sleep after he woke up and ate. We were damn well going to get all the sleep we could get.) I answered the door with stringy hair shoved back

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137612376109430642006-01-18T13:15:00.000-06:002006-01-18T13:26:16.193-06:00

Home. Sick. All four of us. 3 AM Barney. Screaming three-year-old. Hacking coughs. Sore throats. Whimpering one-year-old. Suppositories. Spitting out of medicine. Vomiting of medicine. Flu. More flu. Strep? Screaming. More 3 AM Barney. Midnight sippy cups. Living room beds. Balled-up Kleenex. Waking to dried-up snotty noses. ER visits. Doctor phone calls. No daycare. No daycare. No daycare.

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137088289767186912006-01-12T11:45:00.000-06:002006-01-12T11:51:29.766-06:00

I've gotten attached the idea that I want a sketch of a pioneer woman in my newsletter. Colored pencils, maybe? I'm picturing something abstract. I'm resigned to the fact that I may have to go without this -- it's like I saw it in a dream, but sadly I am devoid of artistic talent. As a final attempt I thought I'd post here.

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137087459997053772006-01-12T11:33:00.000-06:002006-01-12T11:37:40.046-06:00

What with the weaning attempts and other stuff I've been remiss in my blog reading this week. Actually, "other stuff" = "more sickness." Boss Girl was acting strange Tuesday morning, threw up Tuesday night and has been home sick ever since. I only hope Dubya doesn't re-catch what she has. Which is why I had no idea till this moment that it was National De-Lurking Week. I love that this is an

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1137039392790036902006-01-11T16:22:00.000-06:002006-01-11T22:25:23.473-06:00

So on our recent trip to Kansas City I went to this store. I'd never heard of it before I moved here. And I didn't know they had a retail presence until I stepped into this monolithic building. Aquariums. Endless walls of animal heads. A separate department for every outdoor activity you can imagine. Definitely enough to keep Boss Girl's eyes wide, even if we arrived too late to get her picture

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1136870801974141682006-01-09T22:48:00.000-06:002006-01-09T23:30:28.180-06:00

The chips, they are a problem. I feel like they should be called Chips. Or C.H.I.P.S, like the TV show. Or wasn't that C.H.i.P.s or something? Those letters stood for something. California Highway something patrol something. C.HiP.s, maybe. California Highway Patrols. Dammit, I used to know. Are there even periods? Now the periods look wrong. I WILL NOT GOOGLE to find out. Anyway, chips. Not

thatgirltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5727120.post-1136781765180404142006-01-08T22:36:00.000-06:002006-01-08T22:42:45.256-06:00

Today I went 19 hours without nursing. Which means, of course, that Dubya did too. I actually gave him -- wait for it -- a BOTTLE. What a concept! Dubya's easy, though, he never had a problem with anything we put in his mouth -- he had bottles of breastmilk in the hospital after he was born and then during our road trip last summer. The ones today just had water in them, though. He seems to have

thatgirl