Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Halloween at the Whiner's Ball

Greetings, Ghosts and Goblins, Witches and Werewolves! Come share with us your tales of gloom, horror, and smashing success! Quick, pass the candy before the kids eat all the good stuff.

Special to the Brigadoon this week: a Costume Contest! Prizes for best costume, and best story concerning a costume. *

Let's get the ball rolling with a Treat: the Great Pumpkin arrived early for fans of the Red Sox! Our own PS hosted the only sports commentary that has ever captured my interest for more than 2 minutes. The dessert recipes alone were worth the price of admission.

And another: I just got Molly Ivins' last book, The Bill of Wrongs, and so far it is wonderful.

On to the Tricks: Did you ever get a phone call at 6:30 a.m., and nobody ever calls then unless someone has died, so you know it is an emergency? Yeah. That happened this morning.

My evil SIL's "emergency" is that she wants to unload some crap that she doesn't want, because she is moving soon, and when she moves she unloads the old because she buys expensive new crap, and the old often ends up in my living room. Her excuse this time is that she wants to give it to our son, who doesn't even live here; this would seem generous, except she hasn't so much as spoken to him in 18 months and fails to remember him on occasions like his birthday and Christmas. So, it boils down to wanting to leave her crap in my living room, again. It's just "easier" that way, doncha know. On the up side, she and I don't speak, so I just have to deal with her leftover stuff, not her personally. [Her brother says, "whatever" to get her off the phone, but there is hope that one day he will say, "How 'bout you call one of those donation places, like a normal person?"]

I'm sure you've got better whines than that one, so have at it!
* I do not have the faintest idea how to post photos in comments, unless you have an URL to link. So, use your words, is the host's advice.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Are You Butch Enough to Use a Plunger?

That is my question to you all.

If detailed discussions of toddler poop make you squeam, just head right down to the comment fields.

You Have Been Warned.

Z. has been pretty darn consistent about pooping in the potty for a few months now, but I made a maternal blunder and fed her apple juice when there was no potty anywhere around. Now, just to embarrass my child beyond all belief if it ever happens that she finds this particular entry of this Brigadoon blog in her teens, the way Z.'s poop hits her diaper creates an item that must be flushed, yet is shaped just exactly so that it will not. It requires the use of a plunger. Every single time. In the few months since the last time we needed to flush poop from a diaper, Z. has gotten bigger. She eats more. You see where this is going. Tonight, every time we wander up to the second floor, we plunge a little. It's a good thing we have more than one bathroom in this house, that's all I can say.

In pettier household news (ha! pettier! I kill myself), why am I always the one to let the dogs in when I'm NEVER the one who lets them out? Inquiring minds want to know.

And, yeah, yeah, I'm writing this one despite my hiatus. I miss you guys, but my plate is still pretty full in real life. I'll be back when things settle down, I promise.

So pixies, what's going on in your lives? --Sheila

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Awards: The Margarita Edition

I figure all that Morton's Salt ought to not go to waste, so I have whipped up a trash can (see, I told you we was classy!) full of virtual margaritas for the pixies to imbibe! And, after a week like this, I say we all deserve a libation, or forty.

Let me start, first, by saying that Phantom always made this gig look so effortless. Sue, I think we all knew *exactly* what you meant when you said you miss her. I do as well. Who knew how hard it really is to whittle down what ALL seem like worthy WW contenders? I know that it's all in fun, but having a support system really does help me get through some weeks, so I hereby award everyone a "I Am A Worthy Whiner!" Award. You all deserve one!

Whines of Substance this week go to:

Amy, and Sarah at ratatat for their wanting-to-be-pregnant woes. I wish I could offer sage advice, but look what I got to work with! Or not. (With family like mine, it's probably best if we don't reproduce much, anyway.) I wish you both the best of luck, and will pray that next month, you'll be getting "We Know What YOU'VE Been Doing!!!" Awards.


Anonymous for the S.O., and the "drifting apart." You have many hugs and well-wishes headed your way, Anon. I'm so, so sorry.

Old Skool Awards this week head out to:

Turtlebella, because I am right with you on the plant-killing. I've often said that I have a black thumb, because my mangling of poor, innocent houseplants borders on the terrifying. I love them, but I can't manage to keep them alive. I've killed air ferns, people. AIR FERNS. Things which are supposed to subsist solely on the air around them, and I have managed to convince them that this is not a wise move on their parts. I've killed cacti. And Chia pets. My freaking CHILD could grow a Chia pet at age five, but I apparently lack the necessary skillz to keep greenery from becoming blackery. That being said (or ranted, as the case may be), I feel your pain, Turtlebella.


Elizabeth for the stress and self-loathing incurred when knowing you have a deadline for articles and chapters looming, but yet not having the motivation or wherewithal to get said projects done. I know how hard it is to get motivated -- I figure each day is a success when I walk out of the front door in the morning with my clothes facing the right way out.

"Desperately in Need of a Handy Cluestick" awards go out to:

Sara and her suffering child for the trials of dorkdom. Feel free to wield the cluestick on people who hurt your beloved with gleeful abandon. Those mean kids never seem to get better, unfortunately. The only thing you can do for your baby is be supportive, and tell them you dealt with much the same growing up. It sure doesn't make it hurt any less, but maybe your child, with time, will grow to see that YOU didn't turn out so bad, and neither will they. Until then, the beatings will continue until those kids learn to keep their big yaps shut!


Miranda for her fireplacing fireplacer of a professor. Have these people not ever heard of an internal filter?!? If something seems like it's a Bad Thing to do or say, chances are you should probably NOT DO OR SAY IT! I'm so angry on your behalf right now! Did this professor actually think his/her conduct would *inspire* you? It would just piss me off. And, in fact -- it has. Many apologies are tendered to you at the actions of this assmunch. Not all people should be teachers, and this eloquently proves my point.

Awards of Mega Margaritas go out to:

Sue for the endless headaches. I have said before that I just don't know how you do it. I know I couldn't. I hope that you find some relief soon. Something. ANYTHING. I will pray that God lifts this burden from your already-full plate. Surely, someone in His service should not be laden with this affliction for so long.


redzils for the mother woes. And the angst, and the faraway boyfriend, and the ill grandparent. I see you know what I mean about it pouring. Salut!


Margalit for having a therapist who just may be the one who is *whacked in the head* for trying to blame Son's problems on Daughter. Um.... what the fireplace?!? I know there's a sibling dynamic, and a struggle for the affection of the parental units in any sibling relationship, but what the hell was this person smoking?! Also, for the migraine, the not sleeping and cranberry-pill solution to the cat's blockage. (May I suggest a cork for the kitteh?) All these other difficulties make the situation with the therapist so much more onerous. You can have *two* margaritas, Margalit. One for you, and one for your therapist, because the color of the sky in his or her world is probably the same color.

Hugs and wishes for better tomorrows for everyone else. Please check back with us next week, when the sublime and sultry Sheila is bringing the Brigadoon back from the ether.

It Never Rains, But Pours

Welcome, pixies to the Morton's Salt edition of the Whiner's Ball. This is dedicated to all of you who just can't seem to get out from under this week. And, of which I am one.

Let's just say that things started off annoying, and got downright brutal from there. Those three of you who read my blog know that I went off to the mountains of North Carolina this weekend for my cousin's wedding. (This is where the annoying part starts, sliding into the brutal.)

There are definite reasons that I live far, far away from most of my family. We arrived in the mountains, my mother, my daughter and I, at 12:30pm on Friday, and were immediately put to work. Now, don't get me wrong -- I don't mind helping out -- not at all -- but imagine my surprise when I, an actual *invited* guest to this shindig, was expected to make the coffee and act as a waitress for those people attending the rehearsal dinner. I did as I was asked, knowing that tempers were short, and that they are my family. I wasn't real pleased, mind you, but I wanted her day to be special.

I lost my cool on Saturday, though, after being bitched at for doing a task that I was asked to do. I threw a little hissy of my own, and proceeded to announce that I was an invited guest, not a hired hand. I was sick, still hacking with that cough that earned my coveted "Elevated Risk of Lung Butter" award last week, and every! single! fricking! person! smoked like there was no tomorrow and cigarettes were their only sustenance. Well, I exaggerate slightly. I didn't smoke, and neither did Offspring. We were downright lonely.

The luster of the weekend was also tainted by the fact that Monday was my birthday, and I gave up my entire weekend to assist people who treated me like domestic help, and on top of it, I missed celebrating with my husband and daughter to travel five hours (through three states) and get bitched at.

On the drive to the mountains, I learned that my maternal uncle would not be making the wedding because he'd suffered a heart attack on Thursday. The good news was that it was a mild heart attack, but the bad was that it occurred in a bad location. We drove through CityOfMyBirth on the way back home on Sunday, and stopped in at the hospital. He seemed in good spirits, but is still in the Cardiac unit, due to episodes of defibrillation.

Monday dawns, along with my birthday. I am feeling every single one of my 37 years, and took to telling people that I was three days older than the sand in Jesus' shoes. "37" may just be a number, but it is seriously messing with my head.

This morning, I'm jolted awake by my husband who says that his mother checked into the local ER overnight for a massive gall bladder attack. Being a fairly sound sleeper who occasionally dreams that her family members are blue triangles (Damn Ray Bradbury and "I Sing the Body Electric"!), I called him later at work to make sure that was not a hallucination. It was not. M-I-L is set to have the stone removed tomorrow, and the gall bladder removed this coming Thursday.

Can someone please stop this week? I want to get off!

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Prizes! Prizes! We love Prizes!

Oh, I'm so sorry it's come to this - late posting of prizes while my dinner is cooking in the oven. Yeah - we won't have dinner until after 7 tonight, again. But at least I cooked something!

First, I think we all need to stop and give our dear pal Scrivner a big group hug. You've been through hell and back, even more so than we knew.

Second - HOORAY for Esperanza. May your NICU experience be brief and pleasant, and may you rid yourself of the dreaded pump quickly. Congratulations!!!

On to the style awards - Kathy A's lovely ode to a dear Kitty Cat takes it running away this week, and here's hoping your dear Friskie-toes has more frisky days ahead. Back to what it's all about here - we have two winners in the Nipple Category - the aforementioned Esperanza, and also Jenvieve. A special bodily fluids award for Liz. Snot and pee, all at once. Oooh boy. That sounds just fun. A hearty dose of clue stick whackings to clueless moms and dads and beer-hogging husbands.

Coming in with an elevated risk of mullet, I gotta hand it to KLee with the "Lung Butter." EEWWW!!!

Lastly, the Old Skool Whine award has to go to Queen of West Procrastination and her sneeze-inducing iPod. Oy!

That wraps it up Pixies - If I left anyone out, I'm so sorry. But dinner is now about ready. Y'all have a great week!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Welcome back to the Whiners' Ball

Ah dear pixies, it's that time of the week again - time for us to come together to kvetch, moan and groan about the things in life that just aren't going our way. That fabulous indulgence of whining for whining's sake. You know you love it - it surely makes me feel better!

I've been an absent whiner, blogger... well almost everything. Something about a new job, a 2 1/2 year old, a law student husband and pregnancy tends to suck the ever-loving life out of anyone. Add to that the heat we've had and the desire to socialize with family and friends, and you have one absent blogging lady.

But I really can't complain too much - I'm uncomfortable, tired, crabby and generally no fun at all, but isn't that the way of anyone at almost 37 weeks pregnant and counting? And my husband is busy in only the way 2Ls can be - you lawyer types (or married to lawyer types) will understand. Oh, and I got the biggest joke today - notification from the Ga Bar that they will publish the exam results at 4 pm on October 26. The same day I'm scheduled to have a c-section earlier in the morning. Uhhh, pass or fail, I don't think I'll be too concerned!

So have at it, Pixies - to borrow a line from our "Founder", How's by you?

Thursday, October 4, 2007


Hugs and 5 pounds of the Halloween candy of choice to all the Pixies, whose worthy whines this week include (but are not limited to): neighbors so in need of a hobby that they string the roof with halloween lights; the annual Halloween Costume Scramble; irritating and/or clueless customers; lectures on "responsibility" from someone who lacks that particular quality; missing classes, eek! (even for a happy reason); control freaks; dental work; serious illness of a dear and long-distance friend; managers, and endless meetings featuring management-speak; cold in the nose; painful therapy; precocious looooove; spitup; fundraising; self-branding; self-decoration with sharpie marker or printer ink; and medical woes of various sorts.

Scriv, we'll help supply the bunker. Margalit, here's hoping things settle the fireplace down.

STYLE Award to (and crossed fingers for) Kathy R., for "My Doctor’s Ode to My Mystery Malady."
It wasn’t ovarian cancer.
It can’t be because of the cyst.
Your “samples” are coming back perfect.
What could it be that we’ve missed?

The ultrasound, it showed us nothing.
The symptoms, they intensify.
We’re stumped by your mystery illness.
How ‘bout Friday a nice MRI?

ELEVATED RISK OF MULLET Award to Diane, who asks: "When they go out in public, do they just leave all their marbles in the car?"

OLD SCHOOL Award to Sue, who has a code in her node (cold in her nose), which caused her to introduce the BEST NEW SWEAR WORD, "Sit." As Pug&MooseMama observed, "My dogs may be confused, but hey," sitting isn't a bad thing.

Hooray for ANTIWHINES of smilingsmilingsmiling, money in the bank, and others bringing joy to Pixies this week!

Best to Moreena and TEAM ANNIKA, in their run/walk/wagon ride to raise money for the American Liver Foundation's research, education, and outreach!

See you next week, for another exciting edition of the Whiner's Ball.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Let the Whining Begin!

This week's installment of the Whiner's Ball is brought to you by the cat formerly known as Anonymous, now positively identified as Psychotic Kitty, whose apparent new mission in life is to make sure I never for one tiny little second ever think I have an "empty nest." Because she needs me! Desperately! So badly she'll eat the packing tape off of boxes and barf in a very decorative manner, if she can't sit on my keyboard or my head -- while maintaining her daily expressions in the tub. Is it evil to feed her catnip, just to chill her out for a little while?

In Anti-Whines: Daughter has been off at her university for a couple of weeks, and is actually enjoying her classes! Her band performed at her first big football game, and she had a blast! The game wasn't televised here, so her dad and I have become pathetic but proud old people, getting excited about a webcam shot [refreshed every 30 seconds] of a giant stadium video screen shot [random] of something involving our baby. Woo Hoo!

Bonus Question: If you are asked to recite the last 4 digits of your SS number, do you have to recite the whole thing in your head before you answer [like singing the ABC's to do filing]? Or is it just me?

Bonus seasonal whine: Don't get me started on seeing Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas stuff all over the stores. These people are pathetic, or they would have New Year's and Groundhog Day and Valentine's Day stuff out, too. And Arbor Day, what ever happened to that?

So, we are definitely in an Old Skewl mood over here at this week's Whining Central. How are things for you? Bring on your whines, big and small!
Edited to add some Breaking Pixie News! Our friend Moreena, mom to the fabulous Annika and Frankie, is helping sponsor a fundraiser for the American Liver Foundation! She and TEAM ANNIKA will be walking, running, and riding in the wagon to raise money to support liver research and medical advances! Please help Moreena and TEAM ANNIKA reach their fundraising goal of $5,000; every little bit helps, and with her typical humility, Moreena will be thrilled with each $5.00 donation. (Ed. Note: Please dig deeper if you can.)
Annika is 6 years old and awaiting a liver transplant. See the site to learn more:
* Donations can be made anonymously. There is a message section in the donation form, so if you want to send pseudononymous greetings, you can.