Awards

Sorry I'm a little late with the awards ceremony, but I've just started a boot class at the gym down the road and it took some time today to recover enough from it to type. Since it's now Thursday, I won't whine about how much my arms feel like rubber or about running wind sprints uphill. Really, I won't.

The Glad to Hear That You're Alive award goes to Margalit after her 5-day adventure in the hospital followed by a less-than-joyful return home.

The Old School Awards go to Sarah for "feeling oh so lazy" and having "a mild cold, and to Jenr who has a shy and/or stubborn baby on the way.

For the Style Award, all the pixies unanimously chose YT's "Ode to a Good Friend" as deserving distinction; however, seeing as how her ode was entirely an anti-whine, I don't believe it qualifies in this category. Therefore, I'm awarding the prize to kathy a for her silly haiku about the cat going in the tub. Honorable mention to Jenevieve for the alliterative whine/antiwhine "colic" and "cookies."

The Remembering What It's All About Award goes to michaela, who may not have brought the nipples to the Whiners' Ball, but she did bring the bodily fluids in the form of sweat behind her knees.

And the Elevated Risk of Mullet Award goes to Amy for the line "My daughter is only three and she has beaten me." Some sort of honorable mention for the inversion of that phrase by K: "Hugs to [...] the parents whose children are beating them." I just find that amusing.

Finally, thanks for all the well-wishing and support for my friend. I have not heard much of anything about what's going on since the end of last week, so I'm feeling pretty nervous. Hopefully, I'll have an update in next week's whining thread, and hopefully it will be an enormous anti-whine.

Whine some little whines for me

Howdy pixies, you ready to whine?

I'll try to lay off my long catalog of the-sky-is-falling whines and just pass along this one. Earlier today, a charity was scheduled to come by and pick up some clothes we were donating, and once I had them packed up, labeled, and placed outside I decided to get ambitious and also give away some of the boxes of baby clothes and toys that have been stuffed in boxes on a shelf in the garage for a couple of years. I've been reading a lot of Buddhist self-help books these days and thinking about this idea of letting go, and this seemed like a good exercise for me given my fundamental pack-rat nature. So I gave away a whole slew of the toys my kids played with when they were babies. I went through them all and remembered when the kids were so small and gave them all away. I only kept one little toy, a small octopus rattle that was the very first toy each of my kids reached for when they were babies. I don't know what to do with it, maybe I'll hang it from the rear view mirror of my car. I spent most of the morning feeling really sad and nostalgic. Remind me should such a situation ever arise again, that it's best not to stir all that up in the middle of a period which is otherwise thoroughly chaotic.

How's about y'all? What's going on in your neck of the woods?

P.S. I know I said I'd lay off the big-time whines, but my friend who was recently diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer goes in later today for a biopsy of her liver, which if it comes back as benign growth would make her cancer stage 1 or 2 instead of 4. Then tomorrow she'll have the tube inserted into her chest for her chemo treatments. Please think healing thoughts for her.

Awards - Cluestick Squad Edition

The Day of Atonement is nigh and boy, do the people who populate the Pixies' individual universes have much to atone for. Instead of shiny apples, the Cluestick Squad unanimously elected to chop down an entire orchard and fashion a plethora of cluestick sizes, shapes, and colors. We promise to look very threatening with our cluesticks as we encourage bosses, spouses, family members, children who don't take their required medications, mental health professionals, car dealers, digestive systems, reproductive systems, immune systems, retailers already decorated for both Halloween and Christmas, tree branches that fall on vehicles, mammographers, children who go to college far away, and fellow commuters who can't be bothered with either braking or signaling - anywhere a Pixie feels unheard, unloved, and unappreciated - to correct their ways. We will not take no for an answer!

An apple strudel to Yankee T for her always stylish verse that never goes out of style. It is the black of the Whiners Ball.

Finally, a homemade apple pie prize for Elevated Risk of Mullet is awarded to Debangel for fearing she is at Elevated Risk of Pullet. You also get a special commemoration clue stick engraved with bologna sandwich.

Will I look dorky with a parka over my tube top?

I know I complained about the weather being too hot just two short weeks ago, but the solution, Mother Nature, was not to cycle through all four seasons as quickly as my children cycle through their respective feelings of love, friendship, and loathing during the two hours between dismissal and dinner. So take a chill pill, Mother Nature and let us enjoy the transition from late summer to early fall.

So how's it going, Pixies? Are you kids still liking school? For those of you who instruct, have you found a few students who seem positively enthused in your subject? For those of you who are students, have you found a few instructors who seem positively in their subject? Dish below and shiny, fresh-picked apples await those who submit delicious whines of style, whines with elevated risk of mullets (or mallets!), and most humorous old skool whine.

Hugs and chocolate (and stronger tonics, if need be) to all those with more substantive whines.

Awards

Hugs and chocolate to everyone this week! Double helpings for Mrs. Coulter, Debangel, Purple Kangaroo, Amy, Diane, Scrivener, Camera Obscura, Mykal, Margalit, Sara. Cluesticks to all in need.

We're all doing the happy dance for Jeni, whose beautiful son Hosea has arrived!

Condolances to YT and her Gigi, and to That Mommy. Our thoughts are with you.


Old School Awards to:

* Kabbage, who whines that she saw her first Christmas ornaments before labor day, and got the first catalogs already.

* Scrivener, whose temporary crown was felled by that old nemesis, chewing gum, AND whose wife responded to his hard-won new buffness by observing that his pants don't fit.

* Queen of West Procrastination: "Curse you, large plate of spicy fries that I ate yesterday!"


In the Style category, kudos to Sue, for her fireplacingly elegant prose submission, "Conversation with Square One."


Elevated Risk of Mullet Awards to:

* Amy, for "you can't win [the baby lottery] if you don't play."

* Sara, who did "battle with the fierce Beast Excel," only to find someone else got the same fireplacing assignment, too, and she could have skipped all that fun.


"Ain't that the truth" Award to Mrs. Coulter, for the observation, "A three year old does not provide effective commiseration."

Bad Socks, Bad! Award to Sarah, who is currently and may forever be struggling with the dreaded clothing aversion temper fits.

Special recognition for cluestick-worthiness: the boss of our own Name Under Development, who cannot trust an 11 year employee with a credit card to buy paper plates. That's a morale builder every time!


Thanks to all the pixies for playing. The brigadoon will be back next week; hope to see you!

Aloha!

Welcome to the Aloha! edition of the Whiner's Ball, sponsored this week by cute little invisible dragons, which used to roam around my daughter's tiny hand and tell her stories. The dragons liked chocolate, a lot; also bubble baths, silly books, TtFTE, and pretending to be fairies with magic wands. Or veterinarians. Or rock stars. It kind of depended on their moods.


Alas, my baby daughter got too big for her dragons, and now she is heading off to college in another state. My big antiwhine is: wow, a whole new world! I'm so excited for her; a million doors will open. She's taking a bunch of interesting classes to help her decide her major, and she'll be in the marching band. And her roomie is from Hawaii! Aloha! We had one last mom/daughter adventure Sunday, visiting a huge street fair where we saw absolutely everything: dogs, dragons, dancing, taiko drums, art, art cars, jewelry, old friends, bands, food, people, and a ukelale orchestra with hula dancing!


Whines: OMG, impending empty nest! And OMG, she'll be so far! And, since she is supposed to put all her stuff in the car Friday, is it really too early to, like, think of packing?? I've become the kind of pathetic old person who buys shelf paper and toenail clippers and sticky-notes and 300 other random items for a legal adult, because she might never be able to find them there. There is a danger of flooding when we leave; better take kleenex.


Passing the adult beverages, pineapple, macadamia nuts, and teryiaki kabobs. Tell us your tales of doom, dismay, victory, and humor! Prizes for style, elevated risk of mullet, and old school whining entries! Please make up an undercover name, if you must whine even more anonymously than usual. Aloha!

Special Edition: 9/11

Six years, my friends, since everything changed.

Six years, since we heard the horrible news, one way or another.

Six years, and I suspect a lot of us are still trying to make sense of what happened, and what has flowed from that.

9/11 was a collective tragedy. Please share your memories, thoughts, feelings, if you wish. This thread will stay open until Thursday.

Thanks to Robin Andrea at http://newdharmabums.blogspot.com/2007/09/remembrances-of-things-past.html, for the inspiration of her lovely post.

Prizes: Never surrender!

This awards ceremony is brought to you time-delayed courtesy of the giant timesuck, I mean insightful discussion taking place at Bitch, Ph.D. on American attitudes toward money as seen through the lens of the insane cost of housing. What does that have to do with Wednesday Whining, other than some overlap in participants? This comment, which might as well be our rallying cry:

Forfeit whining rights?
Never!

And on that note, I award the Whine of Style to Yankee Transplant, for a beautifully structured poem on how good life is, which leaves her nothing to whine about. Nooooooothing to whiiiiiine about! It’s a tragedy.

(And a nod to my very own Snuggly Girl, who had basically the same complaint after her first day of school, though she expressed it without style. And followed up with two nights of sleep disturbance. Worrying? Naaaaah. Not her. But I digress.)

Whine of Substance awards (and buckets of hugs) to:

KLee, because sewage in the workplace? Not OK.

Sue, whose endless headaches and depression leave her apathetic about the chicken and the egg.

Margalit, whose kids have pulled a switcheroo on her. And extra hugs to get you and the Boy through tomorrow’s funeral.

Elevated Risk of Mullet award to turtlebella, for “But really, I'd prefer just to have the sour skittles without the whine-induction.”

Seasonal Anti-whine award to Sue for “New pens.”

Finally, a great big back-to-school hug for everyone who sent a baby (of any age) off into the unknown this week. And everyone who tripped on them as they bumbled around their new school.

Whining: the post-Labour Day edition

It's Back! To! School! for us this week. My please-god-let-it-end whines are less about summer vacation itself (we had a pretty good time) and more about the capacity of my child for anticipatory anxiety. The wailing at bedtime for the past few nights has been nuts. Probably developmentally appropriate and all, just nuts. Because the chances that she’ll fail second grade because she doesn’t have a red marker are fairly low.

We went marker-shopping last Friday, which freed us up to move on to the real worries. The chances that she’ll have a mean kid in her class are somewhat higher than the second grade failure rate. And my guilt that I didn’t find better ways to deal with her mean-kid experiences last year is, you know, huge. Nothing beats finding out over the summer that the reason she didn’t eat much lunch last year was because the kid across the table was kicking her, so she just wanted to get outside as fast as possible.

Things will be a blur once I pick her up today, so I’m going to open up the whiner’s ball and save my First! Day! of! School! whines for later. Those of you who are a week or so in can feel free to remind me that the drama will die down. And those of you without kids can feel free to complain about how much worse the traffic is now that all those darn students are back.