Showing posts from October, 2011

The Reject Stash of Tootsie Rolls

I don’t know about all of you, but Tootsie Rolls are really low on my list of preferred candies.   They’re even below black licorice and those wax lips that claim to be cherry flavored but end up tasting like, well, wax.   And it just so happens that after a successful night of trick or treating, my kids end up covered in Kit-Kat’s and sour gummies and I end up with what I like to call the “reject stash,” which is made up of broken sucker bits, rock-hard bubble gum, and more Tootsie Rolls than I would want in a lifetime.   Whatever it is I think I see, turns out to be a Tootsie Roll for me… I’ve never quite understood the little chewy chocolate confection that has been around for so very long, but surely there must be more to this popular candy than my taste buds realize.    A quick survey among friends revealed to me that people actually enjoy these things, although I’d like to see someone consume half of the collection I’ve accumulated since the reject stash of the

Mama badge for a real trooper

In a moment of weakness and semi-insanity, I agreed to help take on an entire Girl Scout troop.   And while anyone who truly knows me knows that there is probably no better job for me, I have to admit that it’s harder than I thought it would ever be. Growing up, I was a Girl Scout for many years.   The girls in my troop were without a doubt my best friends, and my leaders were positive and permanent role models in the way I live my life even today.   It was, all in all, an outstanding experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything – not even all the badges in the world.   As it was, for all of the years I was an actual scout, the number of badges we actually earned were very few.   It was almost as if one night around a campfire the leaders looked at each other and said, “we don’t need no steenking badges!” and they erupted into hearty belly laughs. But here I am, faced with having to plan meetings and read books and organize beyond my wildest dreams, so that our troop can earn t

In the days before social networking

If you must know, I’m a Facebook junkie.  I consider it my morning news, my afternoon conversation, and an easy way to stay sane so I don’t end up just talking to myself all day long.  It also makes a great gossip column, not to mention a nearly effortless way of reconnecting with old friends and new acquaintances. But with every simplicity in life comes some other form of inconvenience, and for all of the hours I spend on social networking, it only took me a minute to figure out the main downfall of this new-fangled way of interaction. For all the communicating, it makes you actually miss people.  Mostly, I miss the face-to-face conversation, the laughter, and the emotion that inspired friendship in the first place.  Before the days of logging on to get the latest scoop or see a recent picture of a friend’s child, I used to meet my friends and chat over coffee while dishing the news and sharing a smile. Now I brew myself a pot and hunker down with my laptop in the lonely

Guilty thoughts of squirty cheese and Kool-Aid

***I realize now that I've written this that I what I thought was Cheez Whiz is really called Easy Cheese or Ready Cheese or something like that.  No need for squirty cheese connoisseurs to correct me.  I am obviously a novice, and stand corrected. km I really do try to be a decent parent because when it comes to my children, I know that their general health and their behavior are the direct result of the upbringing my husband and I muddle through. I correct their grammar.  I watch their language.  I encourage good moral character and am constantly forcing upon them such things as exercise, education, and healthy eating habits.  Generally speaking, it’s exhausting.  Parenting would be a much easier job if I didn’t give a hoot about how clean their bodies, mouths, and minds were.  I may not be so drained at the end of each day if I let them just eat French fries and didn’t check their homework.  But I do give a hoot and so it goes that by the time they are tucked