Let's have fun with getting fired

Okay, I'm getting fired. I'd love to blame it on the Michigan economy, but the truth is, my position isn't being eliminated. My boss finally realized that he can't continue to expect full-time results out of a part-time worker (I work only part time). He realized that he would get better bang for his buck by hiring a full-time employee or two. I'd consider it, except that it's almost an hour drive, and I'd be paying through the nose for child care. That, and I was never truly happy there, anyway. I will miss, however, the deep and intimate relationship with my paychecks.

Moving on...I'm not supposed to know yet that I'm losing my job. My friend told me as a courtesy. I work with her and she's the one who got me the job last January. My boss is out of town this week deer hunting, so I have to just smile and wait for the axe to drop, as if nothing was wrong (now the scene of the Madagascar penguins is going in my head: "Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.")

Being the optimist that I am (stop rolling your eyes), I started thinking of ways to respond when my boss comes up to my 3 foot x 3 foot cubicle and utters those dreaded words, "Got a minute?" You KNOW those words are never good, and since I know what's coming, why not have a little fun with it? So here are a few of my ideas:

1. Contine to stare at my computer screen and respond with a flat "no."

2. Swivel my head wildly left and right, eyes all a-goggle, and exclaim loudly, "WHO is SAYING THAT?" Then just as suddenly return to my work. Repeat as often as necessary.

3. Hand him a milk chug and say, "Yes. Got milk?"

4. Answer with, "Let me pencil you in at 2:00...I'm about to beat my high score at ma-jong."

5. Jump up and while flailing arms as wildly as possible, run screaming from the office.

6. Say, "Why, yes." Follow him to the conference room. When he walks in, continue walking right past. Leave him sitting there for a few minutes, wondering where you went. Ten minutes later, walk past with a Starbucks and go back to your desk like nothing happened.

7. Respond with, "One sec, boss. I just got the news that my husband lost his job, our house is flooded, the transmission just fell out of our car, and little Bobby needs braces. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

8. Point behind him and yell, "OMG, did you SEE THAT?" Then run away.

9. Let him fire me, then stroll in the next day and every day thereafter like nothing happened. Crack open the laptop and whistle while I work. Ask him every day where my paycheck is.

10. Respond with, "Oh, I'm so glad you asked. I was meaning to talk to you about a raise."

So have fun with me! There's no reason why we can't make fun of my misfortune. I'm making lemonade, for crying out loud! Let's hear your ideas.

New Levels of Dietary Insantity

My name is JediMama, and I love food. Let's get that right out there in the open now. Chinese, Thai, Italian, Mexican, German, Middle-Eastern, American...it's all good. I pride myself in my culinary diversity and tolerance. Rare is the food that I don't like -- except parts that once performed bodily functions for an animal. Ew. I'll pass on the tripe, cow's tongue, liver, and anything else that ever filtered, masticated (hehe..."masticated"), extracted, or excreted. And while I'm on that topic, let's just get completely real here for a second. "Tripe" is some fancy word that someone came up with to disguise that you are eating the lining of an animal's stomach. Let me give you a second to digest THAT. Yeah, ewwwwwwwwwww, right?

That being said, I must say that sometimes in my endeavors to concoct something that will hit that little craving spot juuuuuust right, I come up with some pretty weird stuff. Like the time I thought sprinkling hamburger meat with cinnamon would give it a nice savory, down home flavor. What the heck? It worked for Laura Ingalls Wilder in Little House on the Prairie. Of course she used chicken. But whatever. I was also 10 when I did this, so to hell with reasoning. I'm still trying to live that one down.

Other times, however, I hit upon something that makes my tastebuds wake up, turn their little beady heads to each other and say, "Wait a minute...wait a minute! YES! Get ready fellas, JACKPOT!" One such occasion was in college, when a friend introduced me to the delicacy that is hot buttered movie popcorn mixed with plain chocolate m&m's. Now wait a minute...don't go. It sounds gross. Not stomach-lining gross, of course, but one does not typically think to mix such yin and yang together. I mean, a CROP product mixed with sweet chocolate? I say to you today, YES. After all, what are chocolate chip cookies but flour, butter, sugar, and chocolate? Crops and chocolate, people. It works. Embrace it. Try it and see if it doesn't.

Okay, so yesterday 2:00 p.m. rolls around and I realze that everyone in my house has been fed except Mama. I peruse the pantry...Cookie Crisp cereal, pretzels, fruit roll ups, Ritz crackers, raisins, (who the heck spilled this bottle of food coloring in here???). Nope. Not doin' it for me. Check the fridge...grapes, milk, eggs, leftover chicken, tortillas, cheese...(what the hell is THAT in that container?)...a-HA! Hot dogs. Fresh. And for once I actually have both buns and dogs at the same time. And the buns are pillowy fresh. Yep, we have a winner. Hot dog it is.

One thing I must interject here is that I almost never do anything the ordinary way. I wish I could. I do. It would have saved me from having to design, cut and sew 13 Jedi robes this week. But I always have to do just a little more. It's an illness. So in keeping with this trait, I decide that my usual ketchup, mustard and sweet relish hot dog needs more pizazz. I'm out of onions, which already is deflating my joy at having found something to fill my crave. My mom always takes those little dehydrated onion flakes and soaks them in water, then puts those on her dogs. I'm not keen on that. Number one, I don't think they have the best flavor. Number 2, I sort of feel bad for them. They are plucked from the field, dehydrated, minced, and entombed in a spice jar (or in my case, since this particular batch came from my beloved bulk warehouse, Costco...entombed in a 62-gallon jug). It's almost like they have been laid to rest. Then here comes Joe Blow who decides to rehydrate them from their little onion slumber and slather them all over a processed meat byproduct for mastication (*snicker* -"mastication" again) and digestion. Barbaric.

"Hmmmmmm," says I, tapping my fingers across my chin. "What would add some pizazz to my pork product?" I glance over and notice my 72-pound bag of French's Fried Onions. The wheels turn...I reach for the bag...

Heaven! (You have to say this with the high-pitched, sing-songy voice like multitudes of angels descending from the clouds. Please take a moment and do that. Otherwise you lose the impact of the joy my buds were feeling. They were in there high-fiving each other, I swear.)

So yes, I have sunk to new lows. I'm sorry that I need to drag you all down with me. I just know that a few will be busting out that French's can at the next weenie roast. Mmmmm...processed mystery meat in a processed white-flour bun, topped with deep-fried goodness...I'm the picture of perfect health. (My checkup labs came back today...cholesterol 184...I'm still good...)

True Mama Love

Sometimes I get so caught up in doing things for my own children...showering them with my love, bending over backwards, marveling at their uniqueness...that I forget that my own Mama must still look at me like her baby.

This week I am busy planning a Jedi training academy party for my son's 6th birthday. It will be a party to live on in A's memory for decades to come (I hope). A party replete with homemade Jedi robes for each guest, light-up lightsabers (thank God for the internet and bulk sellers), Star Wars cake, Death Star Pinata...and a surprise appearance by none other than...Darth Vader himself. Okay, so it's really my dear old brother in a pretty sweet getup -- the authentic movie version costume with lights and breathing device. He gets really into this stuff, so who am I to say no?

So in the midst of all this work, I happened to email my mom for advice on how to make a Princess Leia cinnamon bun "do", as my son insists that we all wear costumes. I ran the gamut of ideas...bake some huge buns, shellac them, and glue them to a headband. Hmmmm...anything involving shellacking doesn't sound so fun. Roll up some rope and paint it? Braid a skein of yarn and roll it up? Meanwhile I found someone at Etsy who knitted a hysterical winter cap with the big old buns knitted on the side. I emailed it to my mom to ask if she could knit such a thing. Being a knitter, she could probably whip this up in her sleep, right? She informed me that it would entail knitting "in the round", which she was never fond of. She didn't think she could pull it off. Okay, no problem. (Although I didn't understand what a Shakespearean theatre had to do with knitting, but whatever.) My search continued.

Today dear, sweet, giving mommy emailed me with some surprise photos. Here is her message:

Okay, once I got Dad to stop laughing, he took these pictures for
me.....if they EVER get shown to anyone else besides you, (hubby), and
or the boys I will not do anything else ever again in the way of
"craft projects" for birthday parties. You may want to go with your
original plan of having a head band and braids....I'll bring this
"thing" but you may not want it. It's really hard to see the
"circles" on the side but believe me they're there. Ok, now
I'm gonna go back to my reading and try to forget I did
this :)

So of course I can't show you the photos, as it would break the sacred Mother/Daughter "let's not ever make each other look like an ass" bond. But suffice it to say that dear mother did indeed get her knitting needles a-flyin' to accomodate her only daughter's plea for help.

Now THAT, my friends, is True Mama Love.

Pint-sized stalker

A's Kindergarten "term paper" is due tomorrow. It's a story/book about whatever he wants.
Anyway, I sat down with him tonight to get him to work on it. OMG, it's like pulling TEETH! I'm going to go nutty by the time he graduates.Here's an excerpt of what our evening was like. Remember, he is OBSESSED with Natalie Portman (Queen Amidala in Star Wars), and his book is about the battleships of Star Wars...

A: (bobbing his head, making silly sounds)

me: A, focus.

A: (stops, stares at his paper, makes another silly sound)

me: A, focus. Write the words (tapping the example text that I wrote down as he dictated).

A: (writes one letter) Hey mom, do droids exist?

Me: No, they don't.

A: Well, do service bots exist?

Me: Nope.

A: What about buzz droids?

Me: Nope, those don't exist either. Focus...

A: Do robots exist?

Me: Yes, robots exist, sure.

A: Can we get one?

Me: Well, buddy...I doubt that. They're very expensive.

A: I want to get one to have around the house so Natalie Portman will be impressed. She'll think I built it.

Me: She will, huh? That would be something...okay, write the next word, buddy.

A: (writes a word) Mom? Remember that scene in Star Wars Attack of the Clones Episode II where Anakin rode that big animal and fell off (chuckling now)?

Me: Yes.

A: I'm going to do that for Natalie Portman, only with a cow.

Me: (fighting the urge to laugh and scream at the same time, considering the late hour and how many more battle ships need to be described) That would be pretty funny. Write, please.

A: Yeah.

(write write write)

A: Mom?

Me: Yes, buddy.

A: Can you get the spare room ready for Natalie Portman? (A firmly believes that the letter he wrote to her will reach her, and she will indeed attend his birthday party).

Me: Honey, I don't want you to be disappointed if Natalie doesn't show up, okay? She has lots of fans and she's very busy with making movies and stuff. She might send a picture, though. Okay, write the next word, buddy. Leave a space! Leave a space! Okay, you just wrote "Thisisa".

A: (Holds his pinky to the paper to measure how much space should have been between the words) Oh. Okay.

A: (more silly sounds)

Me: A, focus on the task at hand. (tap tap tap)

A: (writes a letter)

(We get to the part where he writes his dedication and his name)

A: Hey mom...I'm writing my name like an autograph, like Natalie Portman does.

Me: Yes, yes you are.

(by this time I'm exhausted from spending two hours coaxing a sentence per ship -- 10 in all. I place my head down on the table and I am silent as he writes a bit more.)

A: Mom, are you dead?

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

I guess my one consolation is that he dedicated his book to me. I'm shocked that it wasn't Natalie Portman.

The Virtual Ribbon Cutting

TA-DA! Here it is. My personal blog...and the virginal first post, no less.

One would think that a person who has been programming websites and applications for almost 10 years now would have made this leap into the blogosphere long ago. Well, I guess it's sort of like the telemarketer who goes home after a long day of telemarketing and abhors the idea of getting on the phone to chat with anyone. Or the short-order cook who chooses to suck down a half pint of Ben and Jerry's rather than cook one more flippin' meal. Or the gyno/OBGYN who...uh...nevermind.

Anyway, the point is, I guess by day's end I also get into that mindset of, "If I have to work on one more flipping website..." Yet here I am. Why now? I'm going to blame it on my BFF, Laskigal. "You HAVE to start blogging," says she. Her enthusiasm bubbles over as she speaks of contests, feedback, community...not to mention the sheer cathartic nature that posting our brainwaves entails. Honestly, I didn't even know she HAD a blog until she told me a few weeks ago. And although my days are packed from beginning (8:00 a.m.) to end (2:00 a.m.), I find myself regularly checking her blog. Aside from her quick wit and engaging writing style, I discovered that it's a great way for me to keep abreast (tee hee..."abreast" :P) of what's going on with my BFF, who is six hours away from me.

So here it stands. My electronic therapy.

Oh, about the name. I chose "Life Out Loud" because, really, life IS loud, is it not? Yes, I am a mommy. I am a wife. I am a programmer, a baker, a seamstress wannabe...a Jedi robe maker, obsessive researcher, online shopper...an entrepreneur, a big thinker, a dreamer. But I am so much more than all of that. We are ALL so much more than we realize. From one day to the next, we never really know what changes will come our way. We can live it timidly, or we can embrace the challenges that come our way and relish the opportunity to find the silver lining in everything. That is the challenge that I put forth. Live out loud. Look for opportunites. Grab a hold of life. Seek the silver linings. And through it all, keep a sense of humor and humility.

Happy blogging.