Prizes - Duck and Cover Edition

This will be short since I have a houseful of extras today and a wedding to help get ready for. I'm also inventorying my crockery since it is a family affair. However, I promised myself I will let the bride make the first toss. The most sophisticated of prognosticators have determined that she will most likely to lob several large platters tomorrow. Seriously, mazel tov to the bride and groom. They've overcome a lot to get to this point and I am so happy for them.

Best Target of an Angry Flame-Throwing Pixie Mob goes to Sue's harasser. Sue, I really hope this sorts itself out quickly for you.

The Award of Free Time Three cheers to all the pixies whose little wildcats are now the responsibility of schools for a least a few hours a day. A round of peace and quiet for the busy mamas who have survived the Heatwaves and Monsoons that made up Summer 2007. Y'all, don't be like me and then volunteer for every freaking PTA committee because all that free time starts to feel scary, okay?

Style and Elegance Award Brava to Yankee T for her elegant "A Whiny Poem About the Heat." I've long admired your ability to not just string words together coherently, a feat in itself for me most days, but you can do it verse. A beautiful, old-fashioned silk fan for you so you can cool off the Scarlet O'Hara way.

Baby, Get Out Her Belly Award. Jenevieve, I hope your baby arrives soon. Sending you speedy labor vibes to help get things started.

Serendipity Award to Jenny F. Scientist for finding some expensive antibodies when cleaning out her defrosted samples. A pair of permacold freezers for you.

Before the Brigadoon disappears into the horizon, let's give a lifetime supply of crockery for Mykal, Turtlebella, Queen of West Procrastination, Phantom Scribbler, DevilMacDawg, and all the other pixies with toxic relatives or impossible officemates.

Thanks for playing along and I'll leave the comments open for any impromptu awards from the floor. Until next week, when Madeleine will helm the Brigadoon. Have a great week everyone!

Wildcats in the house

And in the fridge and on the computer and fighting over the television and, goddess forbid, breathing right next to one another. I am going to be so happy next Tuesday when the kids all go back to school. That's all I'm saying.

My oldest is starting high school and has already been asked out for Homecoming. His classes are all rigorous and he's excited to start his next chapter in his life. I'm not sure I am ready for all of this. Just ignore the pile of sodden tissues next to me, 'kay?

The Dancing Girl has yet another amazing teacher. Best of all, Zilla has the most wonderful first grader teacher in the world. His sis had her a few years ago and this should repair the emotional damage caused by that awful kindergarten teacher he had last year.

With that one major whine/anti-whine combo (plus no school buses for their special program this year because our state legislature is Teh Suck), I invite pixies one and all share their whines. Prizes will be awarded for Style, Old Skewl, and Elevated Risk of Mullet. As always, sign your post with *something* so we may properly direct our liquor, chocolate, coffee, and recalcitrant children hugs.

Awards!...better late than never edition

And perhaps also better something than nothing? It's been a lunatic day, in my head, anyway.

This week's Whines of Substance go to

Esperanza, who is sad for her baby-to-be.

Yankee, who's pulling hard for Gigi's birth mom.

And Liceridden, who is itchy and minus a desire to live.

And it is already 6pm in my time zone, and I need to go to the co-op, so I am going to leave the comments open this time for DIY awards. Have at 'em, all!

Hey, boys and mostly girls ...

...it's time to whine!

Whine: the rain. Grey, cold, and dragging on for days. It's summer still, so it's not actually sucking the happiness out of my chest the way it will a few more months down the road, but it's making me a little more wistful than August usually finds me. And I miss the pool! Which is closing soon!

Danged hurricane season.

Antiwhine: I am smack in the middle of the Eastern seaboard, an hour's drive from the shore, let alone anywhere near the Gulf, let alone in the Caribbean, so that sure makes my whine look whiiiiny, doesn't it?

Further whine: next week, school starts so I will need to be getting up at 6 instead of more or less whenever I feel like it. Which means I need to stop going to bed more or less whenever I feel like it.

Further antiwhine: There's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.*

And one last antiwhine: my girl is going to be in a new room at daycare, one where the policy is to support potty training instead of to thwart it. She had her first dry-from-waking-up-to-going-to-sleep day this week! There was cheering and clapping and a present to unwrap! I gotta say, the bare tushy approach is a marvelous thing.

And now the floor is yours.

Remember--no anonymice. If you don't want to sign your post, make up a fancy new pseudonym so we don't feel obliged to take it down.

--Sheila

*(points to the first pixie to catch the reference)

Awards! Morning at the doctor's office edition

Old Skool Awards first: The Birthday Letdown Award goes to tiruncula who wants her other dollar. We're taking up a collection for you!

The It's Too Darn Hot Award goes to Scrivener (no AC and over a week of over 100 degrees! Oy!), to devilmacdawg (pregnant! In Texas!), and to camera obscura (who's also having to deal with Too Much Laundry and Not Enough Appliances).

The Waiting is the Hardest Part Award goes to queen of west procrastination who's waiting for her Exciting! New! Computer! to arrive from its sojourn in the States.

The coveted Style Award goes to:

• kathy a., who's also in the running for Elevated Risk of Mullet for "Somewhere over the rainbow/cats won't poop/in the bathtub where/it is hard to scoop"
• YT for her Whiney Ode to Kids Who Leave For College ("Two! Two College kids this year!")
• and lastly to Turtlebella who sings about her mother and Ex? Step-father.

And now to the Elevated Risk of Mullet:

• First Runner-up goes to....uccellina who is so graceful as she "does the dance of morning sickness"
• And the winner is...debangel!!! With the immortal words:

  "if I give you a dollar, will you promise to at least think about changing it
  into pennies and administering it to Gramma Scrooge in suppository form?"

Hugs and lots of sympathy to ccw for in-law woes (hooray for finding your BIL's mom!); to k and her childcare provider - thank goodness no one was hurt; to margalit for her son who's having a manic episode and who also has to deal with idiots; to KLee for her roof and the pending city inspection thereof; and to sue and her friend who is being stalked by a scary ex-husband (http://www.blogger.com/www.endabuse.org).

And that concludes this portion of our awards broadcast. Tune in next week when our host will be Sheila (S.)!

Wednesday Whining...on the road edition

Hi y'all! I'm here in Humidity Like a Brick Wall region, where I just visited with KLee - a major anti-whine in itself. We'll be flying back tomorrow, so I hope I'll have some winging wingeing.

So, what're your beefs?

Awards: Heatwave Edition

Oh, whiners, have we got awards for you! Pull a chaise up on the verandah, and snag a passing waiter (or cabana boy, whatever your preference might be) for a drink and some dainty sammiches.

This week, we have many people vying for Whines of Substance!

* Sheila's ongoing battle with a moldy basement, allergic family members, firing toxic employees, tax woes, and potential eye surgery. Lord, Fates, or whomever is up there mucking around with stuff -- cut Sheila a break all-damn-ready!

* Margalit and her angry son, being attacked on her own blog, prickly heat, a demented attack cat, and disappearing blog job. One of these things alone is enough to fell most people, so Margalit, you have our enduring sympathy and wishes for all anti-whines for you in the future. Big hugs and congrats on your daughter's excellent visit to the hospital.

* Liz and the death of her grandfather. We're so sorry. I hope he went without pain. And I'm glad that you were able to be there with your family. Many pixie hugs heading your way.

Style Award: By popular vote, and for sheer cojones by all parties involved, Yankee Transplant sweeps the category with her sonnet to screwing. YT, you have the sympathy of all the parents (current and to-be) in the ballroom. It's not a funny situation, but you took something so fraught with parental landmines and turned it to gold here. You win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Style and a bathtub full of the liquor of your choice in order to make it through. And the ever-loving support of the pixies. Bitch if you want, baby. We got your back.

The Old Skool Awards this week go to:

* Kate/One Tired Ema for having "Jenny from the Block" stuck in her head. Isn't that considered cruel and unusual punishment? I heard that the gubmint was thinking of using that as a torture technique.

and

*Andy, who can't play video games anymore. He also must be getting a crowded mantel from all the Old Skool statuettes. Andy, does a little black rain cloud follow you, and just cosmically screw with you all day?

"Elevated Risk of Mullet" Award for funniest use of language:

Lisa V. wins a solid gold purse liner for her upcoming dog purchase. And, if you go with the glasses, make sure to grab the JackieO-esque frames. Part of the package, dontcha know?

The one-time awards, suggested by our wonderful whiners are as follows:

Trillwing gets a "Sounds Like Something I'd Do" nod from Jeni for breaking her nose. Ouch! Poor Trillwing. Pass the ice! Get better soon, and watch those doors! Those bastards have the habit of just jumping out in front of you!

The "Doublemint Mazel Tov" goes to Uccellina who is expecting twins! Here's where we all break into a Kermit the Frog moment, and shout "yaaaaaayyyy!" for Uccellina. May your pregnancy be easy and without complication; may your babies be beautiful and blessed, and may you always be as happy as you are right now. Best wishes from all the whiners. It couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

I hereby award a "Lawn Maintenance Avada Kedavra Spell" to Dr. Corndog. On second thought, you may not want to magic the grass into flaming death just yet. Let it grow a bit more, and hide the lightsabers in a far corner. When the boys go searching for them, hope jungle animals kidnap the younglings to raise as their own. Hey -- it could happen!

Turtlebella gets a "Voodoo Fertility Ritual Dance" just for the sake of completion. Covering all the bases. Everyone's rooting for you, Turtlebella. We're all hoping for you to soon be as fertile as the Napa Valley.

To all, thank you for whining along with the rest of us. It makes us look less needy if we all whine en masse.) All of your whines are worthy, and I raise my glass in your honor. Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to go hunt down the guy with the mini-cheesecakes. Until next week, when the utterly divine Liz will be hosting the Whiner's Ball!

Days of Whine and Cheese

Welcome to yet another edition of Wednesday Whining; another chance to let our collective hair down and get off our chests those things that are bothering us.

My whine this week: I am a confirmed flatlander. We had a great weekend vacation to the Biltmore House in Asheville, North Carolina, where I began gasping for air like a landed salmon after attempting to walk back up to the house after visiting the gardens. The change in elevation, she is not my friend. I will talk badly about her behind her back from now on.

I also went off my diet, but that's an anti-whine, and probably better for the world since I am not such a bitchy wretch when I have chocolate in me.

How about you pixies? Anyone care to loll on the verandah with me, drink cocktails, and pretend that we're as rich as the Vanderbilts? Hey -- we can dream, can't we?

And the envelope, please

Well, before the whiners' ball vanishes into the mist for another hundred years week, there are some awards to hand out around here ...

style: our poets were not so much in evidence this week, but I was moved not just by the content of Scrivener's whine on how hard things are hard but how the pace and repetition made me feel it. Scriv, we're all hoping things get easier for you.

old skool: Andy's having a hard time finding soda pop that tastes like, well, soda pop. Hey, Andy, you can always try making your own!



elevated risk of mullet: kathya for "heh, we're breaking ground on new rungs of hell"


I'm also giving a nod for Compactness of Whine and Anti-Whine to Jody, and ...

OMG, Uccellina!!!

Thanks for playing, everyone, and a personal thank-you to Elizabeth for telling me to put some antifungal cream on my feet, already. Seeya next week in the comments when the lovely KLee plays host! --Sheila

(as the mist envelops us, comments are closed)

Let the whining commence!

My whine for the week is that I can't swim laps. Why not? you ask. Well, I'm so glad of a chance to tell you.

On Sunday, I stubbed my foot between my toes. It was right before bed, and I cursed a little and went to sleep. The inter-toe area was a little sore Monday morning, but nothing that a person couldn't ignore. Until I took off my shoe in the changing room at the pool in the afternoon. And once released from the leather that was holding my pinkie toe against its companion, my inter-toe area just plain throbbed. I investigated, and apparently I did not simply stub those toes, I actually managed to wrench my little toe far enough away from the rest of my foot to cause a small crevasse to open up. The water on the changing room floor is none too reassuring. This morning I smeared the crevasse with neosporin and hypericum-calendula ointment because why use one mode of western medicine when you can use two? I even wrapped both toes up in a couple of Z.'s peuple cat band-aids for good measure. But walking up and down stairs is a little on the ouchie side. And my office is on the third floor.

Anyone else out there read Apex Hides the Hurt? The part about the limp? No? Well, I wish I hadn't either.

Anti-whine: The store was named in the annual best-of list put out by Slick City-Name Magazine, and was featured prominently with a very nice photo, and a local TV news crew came by to film a spot to boot.

Whine: I had to go to my competitor to buy the dang magazine.

Okay--your turn! --Sheila


Standard anonymity/pseudonymity spiel here: Blogger allows anonymous commenting, but the Wednesday Whine does not--there is a small roaming herd of moderators patrolling for anonymous comments to delete, so if you have a whine you don't want to sign with your name (or with your olde familiar pseudonym), just make something up the one time so we don't feel honor-bound to take it down. Also, if you goof on pseudonymity, Blogger allows you to delete your own comment via the little trash can icon. Just copy the comment first to repost. The roaming herd of moderators will try to catch you if cry for help, but DIY is your speedier option.