Adventures with Luke and The Greatest Prick Who Ever Lived.

Adventures with Luke and The Greatest Prick Who Ever Lived.
Current mood: bitchy
Category: Food and Restaurants

All things considered, I'm a pretty polite, well-behaved woman, usually....in most random social circumstances. That's not to say that I'm also a) a huge instigator of punky trouble or b) totally prone to the trigger of my Mama Bear instincts if anyone remotely threatens, insults, challenges or glances sideways at my awesomely awesome son.

Luke's sick. He's had a head cold, and now a barky cough, for the last 72 hours. Thus, like a good mom, not wanting to expose the rest of his class to his Flood! of! Snot!, I've kept him home the last 2 days. That's the POLITE thing to do--not expose 20 other kids to the Germapalooza your kid spews out his nose every 5 minutes. And he kid will recouperate that much faster if allowed rest and respite from the harrows of the second grade.

That said, some necessary daily chores must still be accomplished even if the child is kept home from school; in today's case, some grocery shopping. We were fresh out of some necessary sick-kid staples like juice, tissues, chicken noodle soup, et al.

Luke digs Butera Finer Foods, a sort of off-chain, chock full of a lot of funky ethnic delicacies, and other random crap he's heard about vis-a-vis his addiction to Alton Brown and "Good Eats" on the Food Network. We went to Butera, meandered through the produce section, where Luke asked me if leather jackets were made from the smooth, hearty skin of the eggplant. Got our daily dose of fresh fruits/veggies and then he stood entranced by the vast selection of hermetically sealed cheeses (the hermetically sealed part plays a huge role in the rest of the story).

Luke was coughing. Call the Uh-Oh Squad! But he was taught, from a purely sanitary and proper manner stance, to NOT cover his mouth with HIS HAND; but rather, the crook of his elbow and arm, when he coughed. See, if you cough into your hand, you thereby spread germs far more easily and disgustingly, all over the grocery cart, the cheese case, etc.

I was nearby, across the Terribly Interesting Cheese Case, looking at varieties of pita breads. This was all near the deli counter, which featured the Customer of the Year, a morbidly obese, greasy, messily-dressed, overgrown-bearded fellow most likely procuring 3 pounds of head cheese. This asshole stopped in his tracks upon hearing my little boy hacking out his left lobe, with the following acute observation:

AH: "Where's that kid's MOTHER? NO MANNERS! NO MANNERS! Look! He's coughing all over the food!!!"

ME: "I'm his mother."

AH: "You need to teach that kid some manners."

ME: "For one, he has manners and he's covering his mouth the PROPER way!"

(I explained the difference between holding your hand vs coughing into your arm, and that better he do that than contaminate the cart, and sweet, leathery eggplant, blah blah. But Dumb! As! Stump! AH wouldn't put up with my, ah, LOGIC.)

AH: "Your kid is rude."

(Rude? You've heard Luke cough for 10 seconds and he's deemed RUDE? Baby boy picks his battles, but for crissakes, he refers to me as "Ma'am" half the time. He excuses himself when he belches in public. He knows the definition of "antidisestablishmentarianism." Piss off!)

ME (increasingly agitated): "Takes a big man to want to beat up AN EIGHT YOUR OLD BOY. Think about YOUR MANNERS while you're BRAIDING YOUR CATASTROPHICALLY LONG NOSE HAIRS, YOU ASSHOLE!"

And we walked away.

(I shouldn't have said "Asshole" at the top of my lungs in front of my child, but he agreed it was totally proper in this context as we discussed the situation further, as he coughed down every aisle. Luke and I also discussed, on the way home, how Mommy's reaction wasn't the most Christian, or the most mature, but he came back with "That man was SO MEAN, I don't blame you for calling him an asshole.")

My methods are edgy, my approach unconventional, my vocabulary, at times, overly harsh. But Luke knows, and further appreciates, that his Mommy would go to any length to protect and defend him, no matter how inappropriate my delivery might have been. The fact remains that Luke was behaving and treating his cough completely within the realms of what is considered "polite." If anything, he was guilty of behaving TOO considerately. So considerately, in fact, that the general population, in their banality, would misinterpret his manners for rudeness, his empathy for ignorance, and not only blame him for such behavior, but also blame his parent. So that, my friends, is perhaps the core reason why I called a man an asshole in public today, in front of my son.

The Ignorant Asshole Couple continued to meet us rounding the corners of several other aisles, and Luke was hyper-sensitive after that about his cough. Simultaneously, I attempted to assuage his discontent about this oaf of a loser, while listening in the other ear to their looping, under-breath digs at my kid, all the time dodging whatever CDC-worthy garbage was trailing off the guys' nose hairs.

Luke wondered what he'd done wrong the whole afternoon, what about him employing healthy behavior had forced this man into a fisticuffs with his Mommy.

Ultimately, son, it was a lack of manners. Rudeness. Ignorance. A man so grossly insecure about himself that he picks fights with sick little boys and their mothers.

And sadly, the world's full of them...most likely, a time will come when I won't be there to shield and protect Lucas from....

Assholes.

Luke’s Observations While Motoring Today...

Luke’s Observations While Motoring Today...
Current mood: amused
Category: Life

After school today, Luke and I had to make a quick detour to our neighborhood US Post Office to drop off a package. Just one package, which I had pre-postaged, so it was a really brief jaunt.

We walked in, dumped the package and walked out.

Luke: "That's ALL we had to do here? Why'd we drive all the way over here if that's all we were going to do?"

Me: "Because it'd have been difficult to get the package to the post office any other way, son."

Luke: "Anyway, on Wikipedia..."

____________________________________________

On Harlem, not far from our house, we were behind the most humongous, obnoxious pickup truck that has ever existed. It's one of those XL trucks, but pimped out even more ridiculously with the addition of four extra wheels and some obscure widening device, thereby allowing it to take up more than a lane and a half. It also bore IL Firefighter plates, so this was clearly a Testosteronemobile. ("Hurry, Short-Coming Boy! Rev up the Compensatemobile! Our pillaging radar has been activated!")

After Luke and I laughed heartily about the Goofy Truck, he said:

"HOLY, MARY MOTHER OF GOD!"

...and segued into the following observation:

"Catholics don't pray to Mary. They pray to Cathy."

Me: "Mrs. Sienkiewicz?"

Luke: "Yes, get it? Cathy---Catholics!?!?!?!"

Me: "Ha! Who knew?"

Cupcake Blunder....on Luke’s Birthday. UPDATED.

Cupcake Blunder....on Luke’s Birthday. UPDATED.
Current mood: jedi
Category: Food and Restaurants

Suffice it to say, my ducks have NOT been in a row since last week and all the added stress, plus 5 nights of acute insomnia. Unfortunately, this all falls the very week of my son's 8th birthday, so let's say I'm operating at approximately 45% of what Normal Mommy would otherwise be.

I was all poised to make the cupcakes for Luke to take to school today, right as Luke went to bed ("went" to bed, note...not "fell asleep"). Looking over the list of necessary ingredients, I cursed myself for not having any eggs in the house, of which I needed THREE. Historically, when I do have eggs, no one eats them anyway, and I totally didn't pay attention to that when I bought the cake cupcake mix. Whoops. So I added an extra half cup of oil to replace the eggy liquid, which was another mistake. Don't get me wrong, I'm an EXCELLENT cook. But a lousy baker.

While the cupcakes baked, I wrapped up a conversation.....

Andrea M: Hey, if I accidentally forgot eggs, will my cupcakes be okay?
sonicflux99: i mean...
sonicflux99: um
sonicflux99: no
Andrea M: wah
sonicflux99: they won't fluff up
Andrea M: I'll just tell the kids I made hockey pucks on purpose then
Andrea M: they're rising a little but not much
sonicflux99: yep
sonicflux99: have fun with the pucks

My hopes weren't completely dashed--a couple of the cupcakes actually had reasonable shape to them, but yeah....the vast majority look like little hockey pucks. But I figured, these kids are eight? WTF do they care, as long as it's sugar, right? Even frosting and sprinkles couldn't save 'em, and when Luke saw them in the kitchen this morning, he said....

"Mommy, why are so many of the cupcakes....so.....small? Did you forget to put eggs in the batter? If you forget eggs, they won't fluff up!"

Thanks, Luke. Thanks for being the 4th person in 8 hours to inform me of this, and thank you for reiterating that you're the smartest little person on the planet.

Let's hope I have tape to secure the wrapping paper, or I'll have to chew an awful lot of gum this afternoon for emergency adhesive. Or use Band-Aids.

*ADDENDUM!*

Speaking of Band-Aids, the birthday boy wanted one after school and an after-school class after bonking his head on his father's couch, when I dropped him off to play with (read: stay out of my hair) Craig's mom till dinner time. The head-bonking segued into a good 1/2 hour of non-stop bawling, whereupon he collapsed off my lap, onto the couch and fell asleep. Another day of aruguing with the class bully, not having the opportunity to stop @ my house for his favorite toy gun, blah blah. And...

"Mom, those cupcakes you made were DISGUSTING. They crumbled apart as soon as you took a bite out of them, they had no flavor, they were EMBARASSINGLY TERRIBLE, MOMMY!"

(Mommy sheepishly apologizes again.)

At this very moment, Lame Ass Attempt At Baking A Dessert For My Son's Birthday 2 is in the oven, this time a cake, and YES, I remembered to put the eggs in. I'm praying for fluff.

Kids. They Grow Up So Fast.

Kids. They Grow Up So Fast.
Current mood: dorky
Category: Life

Luke: "I have more than one arm hair (holding up armpit)."
Me: "You do not."
(Luke turns towards lamp.)
Me: "I'll be dipped! You do!"

Would be far more frightening if my 8-year old was showing me a chest hair. Whew.

Pre-Luke-Birthday Blabber
Current mood: nostalgic
Category: Life

My son turns 8 tomorrow, not 27, contrary to his typical behavior.

Luke: "I wish every year you could actually give birth to me again."
Me: "Yeah, because a c-section is SO! MUCH! FUN!"
Luke: "That'd be cool."
Me: "Son, have you any idea how uncomfortable I was at the end of my pregnancy? You actually want me to go through that EVERY YEAR?"
Luke: "Yeah."
_______________________________________________
Me: "Grandma Nancy couldn't come to the hospital right away when I was in labor with you because she was making a meatloaf."
Luke (laughing): "What?"
Me: "Yeah, Daddy went to call her and she said she couldn't come because she was making a meatloaf."
Daddy: "No, she said she couldn't come RIGHT AWAY because she'd just put the MEATLOAF in the OVEN. She came as soon as it was done, though."
Luke: "How long was I in your tummy?"
Me: "Almost 9 months (ed. note: Luke was 2 weeks early.)"
Luke: "Wow."
Luke: "Not like nine years?"
Me: "No. Humans don't gestate like elephants or whatever."

(I vaguely recall telling my obstetrician that I loved him when he said I could deliver Luke on January 16th, seeing as I was in early labor, and telling the doctor that I absolutely couldn't stand to be pregnant for ONE! MORE! DAY! I think Craig's reaction was more "Get the baby out so Andrea will stop bitching constantly about how uncomfortable she is.")

(Sidebar: That very meatloaf then sat in my and Craig's freezer for many months to follow.)

Luke: "It'd be funnier if you gave birth to a meatloaf."
Me: "True."
________________________________________________

Luke: "I was born at 7:28 pm?"
Me: "Yes."
Luke: "You weren't there when I was born."
Me: "It'd have been hard for me NOT to have been there."
Luke: "You weren't awake when I was born."
Me: "I beg to differ!"

(Asking Craig how the c-section looked from his perspective, after the baby was born...."There was SO! MUCH! BLOOD!" But Craig was a champ. Stayed conscious the whole time, as did I, well, except after I kept saying "Yeah, I feel pain, you better give me more Fentanyl. THANK YOU!!!!!!" That shit rocks. P.S. It's all sorts of strange when you get an itch on your nose while your arms are strapped down and your abdomen is open from stem to stern and you have to request a personal nose scratcher. Friggin' weird.)

So more to follow tomorrow, when my favorite little meatloaf actually turns 8.

TV Habits of Nearby Neighbors. And Wes’ Driving. And Me Drumming.

TV Habits of Nearby Neighbors. And Wes’ Driving. And Me Drumming.
Current mood: content
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

I'm taking a calculated Brooding Break from my devastation with regard to the Absolute Fucking Dipshit Asshats who are the Chicago Fire Department (my firefighter friends excluded). No, actually, right now I DON'T want to talk about it.

It's hard to blog and talk to my friend in VA at the same time.

Luke and I take an "alternate route" home to our apartment, so that Mommy With Crazy, Unfounded Fear of Making Left-Hand Turns Phobia Woman can swing an easy right into the driveway instead of waiting for all the Busy Street Traffic to disperse in a Vain Attempt to Make A Left Home.

This alternate route, as Luke coined it, involves going around the block, slowly past the houses on the nice quiet side street. Slowly because 3 ginormous speed bumps are involved. Going over one particular speed bump, Luke is awarded the opportunity to see what this one household is always watching on television.

Luke: "Tonight, they're watching 'Spongebob.' I saw Mister Krabs with his arm around Spongebob. Last night, they were watching 'The Simpsons,' because I saw Homer. Do they only watch shows with yellow characters in them?"

Me: "That's a good question. Should we go back and ask them?"
Luke: "No. Why are so many cartoon characters yellow?"
Me: "Well, yellow is a happy color."
Luke: "Whatever. Mr. Sienkiewicz (ed. note: Wes) drives like a maniac."

(Nice abrupt change o' topic, kid!)

Me: "Yeah, he does. Remember that time he was in front of us on Foster and he jumped out of the car at the red light to say hi, and yickety-yacked until after the light changed? Then he sped away at like 50 miles an hour down Canfield."
Luke: "Yeah, that was funny."

(My turn to abruptly change topics.)

After school today, Adam (Luke's best friend, Wes' son) was telling me his elaborate cologne story, after I told him how Lucas said Adam's armpits smelled like berries the other day.

Adam: "I was wearing cologne!"
Me: "Oh! Wow! Are you wearing cologne today?"
Adam: "No, it's Friday."
Me: "You only wear cologne on certain days?"
Adam (losing train of thought): "My mommy didn't have time this morning....."
Adam: "When I wear cologne, Annette tugs on my arm, and pokes me, and fights with me, and won't leave me alone."
Me: "So when you wear cologne, you're a chick magnet, is that it?"
Adam: "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? (walking away)"
Me (in the distance): "Apparently not!"

Tonight was band practice. I was sort of, kinda not looking forward to it, purely because I'd have to fess up my Total Miserable Failure to my band, and while I always find playing with the band cathartic and hugely uplifting, I was just in a crappy mood all day.

But the usual goofy antics betwixt myself and Juls, combined with Bob's corny jokes (I think I did like 4 rim shots tonight), Don recording us and Jen offering her wit and wisdom all helped to smooth my mood, put a smile on my face and we were surprsingly on target with our mutual chops this evening.

One of this week's songs, "Testify to Love," I've never played w/the band before, and they haven't done it in like 2 years, so we all pretty much had to start from scratch. It's a very complicated tune, both vocally and musically, so we tweaked it a lot tonight. Now I have this crash out (oooh, drummer talk! Quiz later!) followed by 3 hits to the hi-hat, and then a big, big, big elaborate fill into the final chorus, which is really groovy and fun, but Holy! Christ! do I hope I don't Totally! Mess! It! Up! tomorrow night! At least it sounded really good on the rehearsal recording. So yay. Hopefully, at some time not-so-far-in-the-not-so-distant-future, we'll get these new tracks uploaded as mp3's and post them to our Praise Band myspace page, so keep your ears open.

After practice, I got me some serious Burger King action. I try and shy away from junky fast food except for every few weeks or so, but I was not up to cooking when I got home, and a cheeseburger sounded just about right. But out of the corner of my eye, I could swear my "Fry Pod" (holy stupid name for a cardboard container full of grease, Batman!) said, on the side, "Crap-o-Matic." That, of course, would be much more apropos. It says "Crisp-o-Matic." Still queer.

Today’s Dumb Stuff

Today’s Dumb Stuff
Current mood: frisky
Category: Life

Weird day. My head hurts. Badly.

From Luke's
Cub Scout leader..note the misspelling of "Oops." Grrr.

Now I'm relegated to shouting "OOOOOFFFFSSSS!" all night.

"OOOphs! I changed the January 23rd meeting to January 21st and there is no school that day. So, now it is on January 28th!! Sorry for the confusion!"

This would all be far more relevant had I read any of the original notes that preceeded today's and had any clue that any meeting was taking place at any time in the future. See, ignorance really IS bliss--if all of my son's after-school activities are going to be changed several times over before anyone commits to a given date, why bother stressing myself with the preliminary negotiations?

Prior to picking up Luke from an after-school religion class, I stopped at the grocery store. You know how your local store has the ambient overhead music playing in the background for your shopping pleasure? FYI--the Jewel at Cumberland and Lawrence in Norridge totally fucking ROCKS. Their parking lot is too small, their prices not the most competitive, but Sweet! Christ!

The automatic doors opened to welcome me, whereupon I heard, at a VERY ODDLY LOUD decibel level, Kiss' "Rock n' Roll All Nite." The store was sparsely crowded at the time, chiefly filled with elderly shoppers. Meanwhile, it was all I could do to retain composure and not completely crack up at the dichotomy between KISS and the people with walkers stocking up on cottage cheese.

From there, I picked up Luke at school/church. The religion class he had was held in the lunchroom, adjacent to the cooking area/coffee pot, et al. Pastor came to refill his New! Mug! with some java, and then from behind me, I heard him ask Ginger (the church's Director of Christian Outreach, who led the class) if "Annie could come back here for a second." "Oh shit!," I thought to myself, "Now what did I do?" Pastor merely wanted me to see his New! Mug! Across it, it read, in big, bold, red print, "YOU SUCK." Below it, it said, "That's why you need Jesus." He'd ordered it from larknews.com, sort of a Christian version of The Onion. In any case, my influence and flair for the not-quite insulting jokes about Christianity are rubbing off, finally!

Luke was in a horrible mood when we got home. He'd been sparring with his sort-of friend, Brandon, the whole afternoon, culminating in Luke slamming his arm on the door rail out of school on his way out, thereby ensuring that he'd cry and whine the whole way home. What fun! His mood improved after he'd cooked a homemade snack and settled down for another chat on his web cam with my nephew.

I'm loosely subscribed to a personals site on an alternative Chicago weekly newspaper site, which is where I most recently ran into Rob again, but that's another Oprah show. Today, imagine my horror when I scanned the profile of this really adorable, intelligent, overtly Lutheran guy....only to come to the realization via clues in his profile that he's the younger brother of one of my best friends from college. A tad too incestuous for me personally, but further proves that Chicago is really a small town trapped in a big city's body.

Adam’s Armpits, and The Sausage is STILL Speaking.

Adam’s Armpits, and The Sausage is STILL Speaking.
Current mood: cooky/wacky
Category: Life

An aptly appropriate blog title, considering my son's story as he drifted into sleep to the drone of the uber-irritating Alton Brown on Food Network's "Good Eats" tonight.

Luke had a play date with Adam this afternoon, where he spent the after-school time at Wes and Cathy's house.

Luke: "Adam's armpits smell like berries."
Me: "WHY do you KNOW this?"
Luke: "His arm was up 'like this' and I could smell it."
Me: "Again. Why????"
Luke: "Well, it'd have been really hard for me to get out of the van any other way."
Me: "Whew. Okay. So still. WHY do we care what Adam's armpits smell like?"
Luke (giggling): "I don't know."

To date, I don't recall ever giving a damn waht my grammar school best friend's armpits smelled like. No offense. Though I'm sure the scent grew categorically more disgusting as puberty set in.

Still, good to know. The boys conversed more about "sausage" and played with the Spidey-Sapien robot I sent with Luke. Furthermore, Luke pranced around the St. Paul hallway after school telling random passersby that "The Sausage Has Spoken."

Confounded students emerged from the hallway, pondering this epiphany, as did the school principal, Mr. Heinze, who had been MY TEACHER when I was a student at St. Paul. I was eventually taken aside in the hallway, scolded for my son's outburst and reminded, "Only YOUR kid, Miklasz."

Duh!

I'm surprised the school doesn't have a memorial plaque in the girls' bathroom stall where I, as an 8th grader, flushed the much-hated (now departed, as in DEAD) 6th grade teacher's stop watch batteries down the toilet one afternoon, only to have them plug the plumbing and later send a wave of urine, Chicago water and feces onto the body/face of the then-school cook, discovered by the school janitor and ultimately traced back to yours truly just days before graduation. True story.

So yeah, only Miklasz's kid.

Leading by example!

For Christmas, I got both my son and my 15-year old nephew web cams, so they can chat online, yickety-yack and share ideas for their screenplay/movie project. Jake finally got his up and running tonight, though he needs an additional microphone, and the boys began their dialogue on what I ASSUMED was this winter's movie production.

Instead, I read this (being the responsible parent I am, I'm archiving Luke and Jake's webcasts for safety's sake, but this was too bleepin' snazzy not to cut and paste...note: nothing has been altered content-wise, aside from utterly useless and unfunny in-between shiz, duly noted where appropriate. Keep in mind...Jake is 15 and Luke is perilously close to 8. I've bolded my son's extra-saucy, snippy remarks):

Jake says:
I see you!
Lucas says:
That's bunny in blaga- i think.
Jake says:
what?
Jake says:
who's in Blaga?
Lucas says:
"blaga"? the code!
Jake says:
uh, sure
Lucas says:
That's hello.
Jake says:
ohkayyyyyyy
Jake says:
I can't hear you
Jake says:
hang on
Lucas says:
You spelled okay wrong
Jake says:
it's my really long ok
Lucas says:
That means funny music beat, and whatever
Jake says:
uh huh
Jake says:
do you speaka da' inglish?
Lucas says:
By now, i think you crearly understand i am making all this up as i go along.
Jake says:
clearly
Lucas says:
I thought so.
Jake says:
I'm trying to duct tape my camera to my monitor, hang on
Lucas says:
Kay.
Jake says:
grrr
Jake says:
argh
Lucas says:
Roar.
Jake says:
big yawn
Lucas says:
That was a real yawn, you freak!
Jake says:
oh hush
Jake says:
I was kidding
Lucas says:
Don't show me your duct tape! It only angers me!
Jake says:
duct tape is awesome!
Jake says:
don't be hatin' on the tape!
Lucas says:
Yeah, for you.
Jake says:
I can see you!
Jake says:
he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he he
Lucas says:
And i can "Hate the tape" whenever i want, Sassypants!
Jake says:
fine
Jake says:
meany
Jake says:
did you get my audio clip of me playing the Force of nature song?
Lucas says:
Oh, jake, he, he, he, YOU ANGER MEEEEE!
Jake says:
don't be goin' al hulk now
Jake says:
oh
Lucas says:
And remember, never da tape can take me down!
Jake says:
do you want to transfer the "through the fire and flames song now?
Jake says:
you won't need my password or anything
Lucas says:
To me, it really does'nt matter! I like that song!
Jake says:
K
Jake says:
I'll start the transfer
Lucas says:
Oh, young boy, you have crossed the line of lucasness!
Jake says:
accept the prompt that just came up
Jake says:
wanna see me rip this tape off my 'stash?
Lucas says:
No "prompt" ever came up, sonny Little pancake, and yes, that would excite me... really.
Lucas says:
Hurry up!
Lucas says:
Oh.......My.........God!!!!!!!!!!
Lucas says:
Are ya bleedin?
Jake says:
hopefully not
Lucas says:
Yuck!
Jake says:
ow
Jake says:
that hurt
Jake says:
exactly what you want to see
Lucas says:
Alright, now it says it failed, but just forget it.
Jake says:
what failed?
Jake says:
huh
Jake says:
ok
Lucas says:
To recive the file.
Jake says:
ok
Jake says:
nevermind
Jake says:
so, did you get the audio clip of my Force of nature song?
Lucas says:
it's alright
Lucas says:
Yeah, It was pretty hard, and my keyboardist adam laughed at it. I sent you an email of another song i wrote.
Lucas says:
one second.
Jake says:
try to accept this
Jake says:
it's a background for the messenger
Jake says:
just a picture
Lucas says:
What?
Jake says:
did it prompt you again?
Lucas says:
No, it does'nt say anything!
Jake says:
did something just pop up?
Lucas says:
Not a thing.
Jake says:
oh
Jake says:
ok
Jake says:
never mind
Lucas says:
Oookay.
Lucas says:
So, how does it feel to be back in school?
Jake says:
tired
Jake says:
tired tired tired
Jake says:
how was your first day back?
Lucas says:
Me too, I yawned mostly the entire spanish class, and aced math. By the way, the backround pic did come up, but another on opened saying it did'nt receive the message twice.
Jake says:
huh
Jake says:
ok
Jake says:
I have finals next week
Lucas says:
Yikes holy gibolyes!
Lucas says:
Even I'm scared!
Jake says:
it like, every class is an hour and fifteen minutes
Jake says:
and that whole time is spent testing
Jake says:
even my easy class has a 200 question final
Jake says:
But on friday, I get to leave at 10:30!
Lucas says:
200? i could ace 400,00 in a few hours!
Jake says:
also wednesday
Jake says:
on thursday I get to get there at 8:45
Jake says:
but the questions aren't that easy
Jake says:
it's my history class
Lucas says:
Well, maybe around 400 in 5 hours, i'd say.
Jake says:
Hey, Luke, I have to get going
Jake says:
I still have to do soem homework
Lucas says:
Where?
Jake says:
where...what?
Lucas says:
When will you be back?
Jake says:
tomorrow around four
Jake says:
or later, like, nine-ish
Lucas says:
I was afraid you would say that.
Jake says:
I checked my email and your message isn't there
Jake says:
what did you send it to?
Jake says:
hotmail or aim?
Lucas says:
Creepy, i don't know. You have to come back tonight!
Jake says:
ok
Jake says:
nine-ish
Jake says:
ok?
Lucas says:
Well, then when?
Jake says:
Nne
Jake says:
nine
Jake says:
ok?
Jake says:
I'll stay signed in until then, but end the video call
Lucas says:
Kay, leave your program on your computer and we will meet back here at 9:00.
Jake says:
sound good
Jake says:
I'll end the video call now

__
Thus ends Part One of their first webcam chat. Apologies to the kids for outwardly exploiting them in such a fashion. Ok, not really.

Once the children re-convened, much of the next web cast was my brother and making goofy faces at one another on the cam, my brother picking his nose at me, and other Miklasz family stupidity. What is this monster I have created? I just think it's totally funny how my little one is attempting to match wits with his cousin solely based on his viewings of "Zoey 101" on Nick. So true that kids these days learn a whole different medium of communication that is solely internet-based.

But hey, my son is a helluva typist for his age!

More riveting dialogue later...

The Sausage Has Spoken, or The Coconut, The Boy and Me.

The Sausage Has Spoken, or The Coconut, The Boy and Me.
Current mood: fascinated
Category: Life

One of my Polish grandfather's favorite phrases to use as a sly insult was "The Sausage Has Spoken!," particularly voiced towards my dad if he'd said something stupid. The phrase has been carried on generationally, so now even Luke knows it, understands it, and often uses it in a correct context.

Until today.

Today was weird on a number of levels--it's the 7th of January, yet the high temperature reached 66 degrees in Chicago. We're having thunderstorms, not snow, and the kids returned to school today after the Christmas vacation. After school today, Luke was giggling about with his best friend, Adam, while I gabbed with Cathy and Wes by our cars. Adam and Luke have evidently started yet another "secret club," and in this case, they've pledged to talk about sausage every day and utilize daily a new sentence that contains the word "sausage." Fine.

Until, of course, they stood at the base of the parking lot and school field and Luke decided to shout out "THE SAUSAGE HAS SPOKEN!" at the top of his lungs for, I'm not exaggerating, a good ten minutes. By and large, Adam was laughing too hard to join in this exclamation, and eventually returned to the car doubled over in giggles. Meanwhile, Luke stood there shouting until he was so tired, he had to plunk down his backpack, sit on it and THEN yell, "THE SAUSAGE HAS SPOKEN!"

Eventually the older boys who were attempting to play football replied, "WE DON'T CARE!" and "SHUT! UP!"

Finally, Luke came back to my car and we left to do a little grocery shopping after school, when we finally came upon the Holy Grail of Luke's culinary pursuits--a whole, raw coconut. Of course we HAD to buy the coconut, since they'd been on his Christmas list and all. Luke picked out a handful of other exotic fruits as well as a Mexican pineapple soda (eeew!).

Luke's exotic fruit findings were VERY well thought-out. As he perused the red pears, he said, "You need to find one without bruises, soft to the touch, and with obvious HEFT, using his hands as little deciding scales." HEFT? HEFT? You're almost 8...what do you know about HEFT, son?

During our jaunt around Jewel, Luke began a monologue of his infamous "Mega Meals with Lucas Bechtel" show (coming soon to Food Network). This was highly amusing though distracting, and I left the store without procuring two must-have items today, limes and Advil (don't ask, but no, I wasn't planning to put the "Lime in the Coconut.").

The best part of his narrative was this:

Luke (as Food Network host): "Coconuts were largely used in Medieval Times as a weapon, during perhaps a war in the 1400's. Soldiers would inject poison into the milk of the coconut and kill their enemies." (Silly me, I thought they'd just pelt the enemies WITH the coconuts. Who knew the plan was so much more sophisticated???) Then he pulled me aside and said, "I'm making this story UP, Mommy. It's not true." (WHEW!) "Coconuts aren't actually nuts," Luke said, "they are 'droops,' but calling something a 'cocodroop' would be too silly."

Luke: "Suppose you were a hobo on a deserted island. Would you eat coconuts and drink coconut milk as your sole nutritional source? Yes, perhaps, if you were a hobo living in Hawaii!"

Me, interrupting: "Luke, how many HOBOS live on DESERTED ISLANDS?"

Luke (continuing, ignoring my logical aside): "And suppose you're a hobo with a laptop on a deserted island. You can check out all of my recipes for coconut on foodtv.com."

Me: "HOW MANY HOBOS HAVE A LAPTOP?" (How would it fit in the little bandana sack on the stick???)

So we purchase the coconut and exotic fruits, and get into the car, where Luke insists on holding his coconut en route to the gas station, where I buy a pack of cigarettes. I can safely say he was the only customer in the gas staion clutching a raw coconut.

The coconut, the boy and I made our way home, during which time he read me the instructions on the coconut as to how to enjoy said coconut. Once home, the aforementioned enjoyment involved two big kitchen knives, a pair of kitchen shears and a big hammer. Luke drained the liquid from the coconut and put it in a big bowl, while I helped him chop the fruits for his salad.

I must say, his tropical fruit salad was delicious, if not hilarious.

What's cuter? Luke's cooking obsession or him holding a raw coconut while wearing a t-shirt that says "ROCK ON!" In any event, he rocks, as does his salad.

*SIDENOTE* In the first photo, note the bag of Rold Gold pretzels by the kitchen sink. This is another one of Luke's food experiments. The bag of pretzels is empty, but now filled with WATER and STAPLED shut. I'm still not sure what his ultimate plan is with it....

A Note From God.

A Note from God
Current mood: drained
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Dear Andrea,

Saw that you chimed in and wanted to send a quick note to let you know I did get your message.

Yeah, sorry about the sore throat--better make sure that's not strep on Monday, because even in my omniscience, omnipotence and omnipresence, I can't bloody keep track of everything, so I'm not sure what new dreaded malady I threw your way. I was multi-tasking at the time.

I dunno, I guess I felt that you weren't quite SICK ENOUGH last month, and being the sarcastic Joe that I am, I thought it might be funny to allow germs to attack you again, knowing your resistance is low, your defenses are down and you've been treading thin ice as it is. At the very least, it'll teach you to finish your antibiotics this time.

What was up with you in the Jewel parking lot? I remembered that you get all out-of-sorts and flighty at certain junctures during the month, but when I saw you actually look down and WONDER if you were actually WEARING SHOES, I had to chuckle. That's pretty bad, Cha Cha.

Funny that any time you scroll down your web history, and see "robosapien.com," even though you and Luke were looking up details about his Spidey-sapien, you think of Rob. And laugh. At least I gave you the ability to think of Rob and actually laugh. Finally. Sheesh.

Yeah, I too saw the two friends who encountered one another at the gas station last night, who clearly hadn't seen one another in a long time, and they warm, boistrous conversation they were having beside you as you pumped gas. You totally should've walked up to them and said, "Wait. Isn't anyone going to ask me HOW I HAVE BEEN? 'Cuz I'm having a really kind of shitty day...GROUP HUG!" But I know how you feel about strangers thinking you're even crazier than you really are. So your hesitancy was thereby acceptable.

Why did Drozd have to lose his only surviving brother? Only I can answer that, and right now, I don't plan to. I know my timing sucks. Sorry. But at least Steven knows you're all thinking of him, praying for him and his family, and I promise I'll do right by him. So stop worrying.

You know what? Have some more cranberry juice, pop a couple Tylenol and go back to bed. Things will be clearer and less painful when you awaken, that I can guarantee.

--God

Luke’s Missives Conclude a Very Blog-a-Riffic Wednesday

Luke’s Missives Conclude a Very Blog-a-Riffic Wednesday
Current mood: cooky/wacky
Category: Life

Lucas claims he stayed up until around 3am last night, writing his new book, "Robo-Wars." (Luke: "Mom! It's not copyrighted yet!!!!")

Me: "Luke, you NEED to NOT be WRITING at THREE IN THE MORNING TONIGHT. YOU NEED TO BE SLEEPING!"
Luke: "But Mom, I do my best writing at night."
Me: "As did I, but my parents would NEVER have allowed me to stay up all night, when I was 7, writing a book."
Luke: "That's because your parents were crazy."
Me: "THOUGH TRUE, you still can't."
Luke: "Did your parents have videocameras on you? Is that how they knew?"
Me: "No, because my dad would have to have stood there cranking some old reel-to-reel machine, and he had better things to do."
Luke: :(Laughs)
Me: "Go to sleep. NOW."

Ugh. The "Where to Go With Dad?" Dream.

Ugh. The "Where to Go With Dad?" Dream.
Current mood: distraught
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

My dad made his first Dream! Appearance! of 2008 early this morning.

Reality backstory: Craig's mother, Meredith, was staying with Craig during the holidays at his townhouse in Park Ridge, which is next door to my mom's townhouse. This arrangement worked out marvelously while Craig and I were living together (not sure how Craig felt about it, but oh well). Nowadays, I live about 2 minutes away just within the City limits in Chicago (thank you, Fire Department).

The day after Christmas, my mom got the ticker tape and floats out to parade the much bally-hooed arrival of her on again/off again beau who lives in Las Vegas, whom she hasn't seen in several years (apparently, they're "on again"). She also handed me a gaggle of quarters, a box of Tide and some fabric softener and told me to do my laundry at my apartment building ($$$ coin operated) instead of her house (FREE!), since the Beau would be in town until JANUARY 16th. Evidently, during the course of their on and off-again thang, my mom has reprogrammed the Beau's brain to completely forget that she has children and grandchildren (I wonder if she took all our pictures down in the house?) who *might* come around a couple times in 3 weeks. Who knows.

All of which puts me in withdrawl mode, seeing as I talk to my mom every day, sometimes multiple times a day, so imagine my unease when the first time she came up for air to blow a well-being check in on me was the 30th of December.

Me (all salty): "You're still alive?"
Ma: "Oh shut up."

I've been back and forth and at Craig's house numerous times since The Beau arrived, and once in a while, it's obvious looking next door that they're IN THERE, but I feel totally weird about ringing the bell and just saying hello, which goes against our normal M.O. in relating to one another. Conversely, I do respect her privacy (somewhat).

Which leads me (finally) to THE DREAM.

In the dream, the Christmas holidays were among us, Craig's mom was in town to stay with Craig, my mom's Beau was in town to stay with her, I had Luke and my nephew at my house (all of which were true in real life) and BOOM--my father arrives, in his typical "dream way," where he's not dead, just "gone" and throws a wrench in the lives of everyone he loves.

Dad didn't understand why or how The Beau was with my mother, with us trying to explain that since Dad had been "gone" for 24 YEARS, it stood to reason that Ma would have moved on.

My Ma and I were arguing about why she couldn't let Dad stay with her for Christmas, and then I broached him staying with me at my apartment. (This is where I got really bummed out.) My mother said my Dad didn't want to stay with me because he "didn't know me anymore."

Hence, this is the first time in the history of this recurring "Dad's Back!" dream that I was NOT the apple of his eye, his little girl. I was a STRANGER. And that freaked the hell out of me.

I told my mother in the dream, "But didn't you tell him about me, about what I'm like as an adult...that I'm becoming a FIREFIGHTER like he was, that I PLAY DRUMS IN A BAND?"

"He's just not comfortable with you, he hasn't seen you in 24 years" my Ma said, which I think generated a huge WTF? response from me.

So Ma didn't know where to go with Dad, he couldn't go to Craig's because his mom was there, and he didn't WANT to stay with me.

I awakened before this clusterfuck of a situation was resolved, so I have no idea where my dad ended up in the scheme of things, or if he just chose to disappear again, which is most unsettling.

Thanks for the visit, Dad, always a pleasure to re-connect, but nice storyline!

Sheesh!

Psychologically, I totally realize that The Beau's being here planted the "Where does Dad fit in?" seed, but you'd think that it'd be immediately deduced that he DID belong with me....and now that I think about it, my Dad never voiced his "who the hell is Andrea?" opinion; it was all heresay via my mother....interesting.

Oy vey.

Thankfully, I'm now awake, and it's now January 2nd, which means I can finally go to Borders and pick out my 2008 daily desk calendar. One of my credos is to never buy a calendar for the next year during the holiday season--they're full price. Better to wait until after the New Year, when they're 75% off, and you can choose from the scraps left of lonely, misfit calendars that no one else wanted. This hereby ensures that I will receive a gem, like my 2007 "Daily Phobia" calendar (perhaps the 2008 "Daily Phobia" calendar???). The possibilities are limitless (not really!)!!!!!!