Prizes!

The "There's a hands free kit?" Award goes to Esperanza for Remembering What it's All About.

The Bringing the Bodily Fluids award goes to Andy, Esperanza (obviously), and Amy. Feel better soon, Andy! And Amy, the potty issues do end....eventually. But what do I know? I'm still wiping MM's tushy.

The Morton Salt (When it Rains it Pours) Award goes to DebAngel (I'm so sorry about your illness, your mom, and your dog).

The What Would We Have to Drink Award goes to Miranda! I hope you were able to get the whole thing printed!

The Jack Frost Award goes to Turtlebella, JenR (stay warm inside mommy, baby!), Sue, and especially K (ice INSIDE the windows!)

The coveted Style Award, with attendant Crown goes to Yankee T. for her brilliant new work, "It's a Hard Tooth Cracked".

And finally, the Whine of Substance Award goes to Sue: "Whine: I made a pastoral call yesterday morning to someone who seemed a bit low on Sunday. She ripped about four layers of skin off of me about a stooopid wall hanging that was recently removed from the sanctuary (by Board approval - and it happened while I was freakin' holidays - had NOTHING to do with me).She bitched me out and verbally abused me until she decided to hang up on me. Bitch. They definitely do not pay me enough money to put up with this shit. Today?? I hate my job. Everything about it. I can't get excited about any of it. Not just because of her, but because I feel like I've been told one thing "We want to move forward" but the first change that happened resulted in a complete freak out all over the minister. What the fireplace am I doing here?"

And that is not even including her headache. Hugs and kisses, Sue.

And that wraps it up for this week. Thanks again for your patience and your contributions!! See you next week when our host will be Kathy A.!

Our moderator is currently in class, prizes will be posted this afternoon. Your patience is appreciated!

Comments are closed on the below post, but please use this space to whine some more, to sympathize, to vote, and to think up new and interesting prizes!!!

Wednesday Whining: Muffin Man is gonna be six edition

How did this happen???? Just yesterday he was a wee tiny baby and now, oh heck! He's up to my neck! (actually, oh darn it! He's above my armpit!)

And did you know that an adult tooth can grow in behind a baby tooth? And does anyone have any ideas on how to floss that bad boy?

How's by you? Any tales of woe?

Prizes!

In case you were wondering, the reason the media has declared this the most depressing week of the year is that the weather is dreary, holiday credit card bills are due, and we’ve abandoned the optimism of our New Year’s resolutions.

But the pixies have come up with much better reasons! We’ve got worries of all kinds this week.

kathy a. has “flu. barf. clean-up.” Urgh. Thanks for sharing, with us and the cats.

Sue, we’re thinking of you today and hoping your time in the MRI tube yields actionable cause for your fireplacing headache.

Sending “get the baby out of my uterus” vibes to JenR and “get the teenager out of my bed” vibes to Margalit.

Cluesticks for crabby kids (including mine) and endless patience for the caring adults in their lives . . . us! Valium in the meantime, and some “sleepy baby” dust for That Mommy’s Kid2.

We welcome esperanza to the world of juggling work and family. Here are your crazy juggler’s hat and some flaming swords.

Miranda, we’d be happy to talk you out of starting a Ph.D. program, or into it. You know, whichever. We’ll stay tuned for updates.

I can’t help laughing about Redzils' landladies who imagine pestilence in every corner of the kitchen. I’m sorry, Redzils. I hope whining about it is helping you laugh, too! It should be harder for them to conjure invisible vermin if you are there to say, “No, that’s just poppy seeds on the counter.”

A virtual copy of Micro$oft Project is on the way to Sarah because her renovation plans require a flowchart. Eeeep! Good luck. I’m guessing there are plenty more good whines left in this little adventure.

I am sniffling my way through my second cold since Christmas, so I am staying far, far away from Camera Obscura who definitely doesn’t need any more viral exposure just now.

Especially big hugs to Amy as you struggle to tell your daughter her pony is ill. We promise not to tease you about owning a pony in the first place if you need to whine some more next week.

And finally, last and most, hugs, chocolate, free child care, and imaginary perfect medications to Anonymous. The medication is for your husband (cures depression, no side effects, kicks in immediately) but I’ll throw in an extra dose of comfort for you, too. I think the pixies had some good suggestions. I hope you find a path through this maze.

Wednesday Whining: Mid-Winter Blahs Edition

Today was going pretty well, actually. I had a few work meetings, sent an email to a good friend. I was moving through the day smoothly. Then came the meltdown.

Take one wet, cold, tired, hungry seven year old and one tired, hungry Mama. Mix together in a change room full of other mothers and kids. What do you get? Tantrums, one for each.

Oh, and by the way, I heard on the news that this is the most depressing week of the year.

Why? You tell me.

Prizes!

Hugs and condolances to all the Pixies suffering this week from: not enough sleep, global warming, family members in the hospital, cats with dubious and stinkerino hobbies, evil girl scout leaders, insurance company rage, headaches, crying, 24/7 bambino schedules, sore nipples, obsessive handwashing, kinda sickness but not enough to take to the bed, too-expensive meds, too much busy-ness to whine, meds with too many side-effects, rain and cold forcast for vacation, misplaced sex drive, coffeeless days, PMS of the offspring variety, battles with schools, battles with banks, itchy spots, sinus infections, green tongues [yuck!], too much of a beloved one who cannot stop talking and demanding attention, oblivious spousal units, too much crying and whining, that fashionable "hell warmed over" look, the fucking cancer, work suckiness, family suckiness, the hideous beepbeepbeep of a smoke detector wishing for a new battery, clueless colleagues, departmental budgetary woes, laptops on last legs, drafty houses and doors that won't close all the way, personal PMS and zit explosions.

Esperanza wins the Remembering What It's All About Award.

Sympathies and a bag of green M&M's to A. Nonnie Mouse, who describes her missing libido as "a shriveled little raisin on the floor" and asks us to save it for her, should we run across it.

The coveted Elevated Risk of Mullet Award to Gary, who responded as follows to Liz's whine that she is not getting enough sleep and the polar ice caps are melting:

You mean if you get more sleep, the polar ice caps stop melting? Dammit,
your bedtime is now 8:30. Don't make me send Al Gore over there to read
Goodnight, Moon.

Gary meant it, too. Liz missed her bedtime, and Mr. Gore took time out of his busy schedule to tuck her in.

The Style Award is once again captured by the fabulous Yankee T, addressing the question of whether WW has outlived its usefulness to readers:

Somewhere, over the int'net,
There's a blog,
Where I can vent all my whining
And not be called a dog.

Somewheeeeeeeeeere,
over the int'net,
Skies are grey,
And we can all kvetch and belly-ache,
Every single "Wensday"

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the whines are far behind me
But til I do that, god knows when
I need a place to whine and then
Here's where you'll find me

Somewhere, over the int'net,
Whiners cry
Whiners cry over the int'net
Why then, oh why can't I?

Thank you all for playing this week! Tune in next week, when Madeleine will be your gracious host.

And thank you for the kind and positive comments in the post below, asking whether you think WW has outlived its usefulness. We plan to keep on with the weekly Brigadoon, rotating hosts. One or two hosts may step down due to the press of real life; some others have not been hosting lately, but plan to as things settle down for them in coming weeks and months.

Nothin' But Good Times Ahead

... or so I hope. Credit to Molly Ivins, whose book of that name currently graces the reading chair.

Meanwhile, it still appears to be January. My recent cold led to an unfortunate addiction to several seasons of a TV show that I missed because [a] I don't watch TV, and [b] I don't have cable. My hands feel like sandpaper, and are prone to cracking in a very attractive manner. A fingernail snapped off painfully. The new coffeemaker went wild and flooded the counter instead of filling the pot. My hair looks like it was styled by rodents.

On the antiwhine side, we adopted the kittens we have been fostering, as they seem to like it here but have not quite gotten around to trusting humans. They are very goofy adolescent furballs.

So, how're things at your end, Pixies? Passing the chips and dip.

e.t.a. -- hey! i learned how to do links! not good links, mind you, but links nonetheless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please stop by the post below.

Wednesday Whining: The Future -- A Pixie Poll

A month or so ago, noticing that comments have been down lately, the moderators of Wednesday Whining had a little discussion about whether the Brigadoon Whinefest has run its course, or what. Being the dedicated procrastinators that we are, we decided to table the discussion until after teh holidays, and then maybe ask the Pixies what you think.

When this site began, none of the new hosts thought we could hold a candle to Phantom, the founder of and creative genius behind Wednesday Whining. We still feel that way. But we loved [and still love] the community that had formed, the humor, the fabulousness of a regular time to complain our hearts out about matters big and small, silly, poetic, and mundane. We wanted to keep it going, albeit in an altered way.

Now we want to know, after 6 months of the grand Brigadoon Experiment -- what do you think?

Awards: The "As Time Goes By" Edition

Ah, pixies! Awards time again! As I said in the whining post, I have too little time, and all at the same time, too MUCH time. I can't believe that I'm almost freaking FORTY years old. Where did all that time go?!? Who allowed this travesty to happen? Who in the world authorized me to have a twelve year old child? Someone, somewhere, has seriously screwed up on this one, and I ain't takin' the blame, no sirree, Bob.

Still, somehow, it'll be all my fault. It usually is.

My sympathies go out to all of our participants this week, including those deal with family woes, sick or colicky kids, vision trouble, hurty skin, slobariffic progeny, or kids who blow chunks all over them.


This week, In the "Whine of Substance" category:

Sue, with her ongoing (and neverending, poor Sue) migraine pain. This is also compounded by the fact that she waited 9 months for an appointment with a neurologist, only to have him give her a prescription that may have side effects that would affect her job performance AND not real end in sight for Sue long-term. Sweetie, I think they should nominate you for sainthood, because I would have long since gone postal on everyone.


Margalit, who apparently won the germ lottery for this go-round: sinus infection, bronchitis, and thrush. We love you, honey, but don't get mad if we slap a biohazard sticker on you as you walk by. Look on the bright side -- maybe you gave the utterly clueless SpEd teacher some nasty and virulent strain of disease! And, lose your shizzle as often as you need to, girlfriend. No one but you is going to advocate as hard for your kids! You have got to stand up and make your voice heard. Now that they've heard you, let's hope they take your concerns to heart and get *their* shizzle together.

and

Thatmommy for everything sucking. I'm so sorry it's all so hard right now. Just know that we're here, should you need a friendly ear. I hope things get better soon.


And in the "They Say It's Your Birthday" category:

A nod to kathy a's youngest, who turned 19 on January 8th; and to my own Offspring, who turned 12 on January 9th.

Hugs and virtual presents for Madeleine, who celebrates her (mumble, mumble)th birthday on 10 January! May your day be as special as you yourself are!


The "Mamas Is The Craziest Peoples" Awards go out to:

amy. Amy's Unbloggable of last week has escalated into a WTF?!? answer from the doctor, but is only slightly tempered by the fact that her oh-so-delicate little flower of girlhood specimen, the Tot, has finally learned to pick her own nose. Only another mother could appreciate this one, because that means that *amy* no longer has to pick the Tot's nose FOR HER. This, pixies, is indeed a milestone! Just please, amy -- instruct her that anything after the second knuckle is no longer considered "picking", but has moved on into "brain surgery."

and

Liz, who has had to ground the misbehaving Muffin Man, and now has to deal with her own slice of parental hell -- the feeding of the virtual pet panda. Well, console yourself with this one thought, Liz... if the panda dies, at least you won't have to go out into the cold backyard to dig the grave for him. See? There's a silver lining if you only apply yourself hard enough!


The "Mazel Tov!" Award goes out to :

Diane, who is expecting! Hooray! We're all verklempt for you! We can't wait to hear more!


By popular vote, Uccellina wins the coveted "Elevated Risk of Mullet" award this week with her "Crotchal Pain of Doom." The joys of pregnancy, no? I'm sorry that you can't sleep. May Mr. Sandman dump an entire sack of sleepy sand over you and your crotch. Wait... that sounds wrong... Oh, well.

Love and hugs to all. May you all have your whines lessen over the course of the week, and thank you all again for coming and participating in this online version of the stitch-and-bitch. Stay tuned for next week's installment, when our fearless leader will be kathy a.

The Better Late Than Never Edition

Pixies -- where has the time gone? It seems to dribble through my hands like sand these days. My beloved Offspring, the fruit of my loins, turns 12 today. I was so caught up in her birthday (and the fact that I'm now older than them thar hills) that I am running late on posting the whine.

I'm fired, I know. But, better late than never.

So -- what's grinding your gears this week? Who in your life should have an unhappy meeting with the cluestick brigade? Who wants cheese to go with their whine? Fire when ready!

Oh good lord, is it ANOTHER year, already?

Correct me if I'm mistaken, but didn't we just last night finally get rid of that old one that was still hanging around?

Ah, well. I guess it's better than the alternative.

Me, whines: the cold that won't go away, itching in the nether regions (yeah, yeah, like you don't come to the whine for the TMI factor), a daughter who's heading into the home stretch of her third year, and a dog that barks at 5:20 whether or not the spousal alarm is set for that hour.

Me, antiwhines: a new computer! a new computer! a new computer! a new computer! a new computer! (Yes, that was five antiwhines off of one object. I really like this machine.) And tomorrow the spouse and child return to their respective schools while I am still sorta-kinda on vacation. Yeah, baby.

You? Your turn.

Whine away, pixies! The comment fields are yours.