Last night, while Devon was in Scottsdale, Claire and I decided to carve our pumpkin.  I covered the coffee table with newspaper; gathered all the carving tools, a spoon, a bowl & napkins; then grabbed the pumpkin, Claire, and a camera – critical pieces of the puzzle.  When I started to cut the top off, Claire insisted on "helping" – her hands HAD to touch the knife as I moved it around the pumpkin.  To reach the pumpkin, Claire was precariously perched on my knees.  Since she is about three feet tall now, that meant that her head was in front of mine – I couldn’t see what I was doing!

After the top was removed, it seemed more feasible to move Claire to the table as we pulled out the pumpkin guts.  This actually worked out well, except when Claire’s spoon would get stuck in the small opening.  She readily plunged her little hands into the gooey, slimy, seedy, smelly center and removed as much as she could.  I was so pleased that she was interested.  Near the end of our adventure, she actually spent about four minutes examining the strands of pumpkin innards on her hands, and I sat there, marveling at the gears in her little head as they were spinning around.

Claire and I drew the face on the pumpkin mostly together; I, of course, had to take a leadership role or jack would have been decapitated or neutered or otherwise disfigured.  After that, we started carving…  Claire took an interest in the pokey tool and I moved her back to the table and allowed her to "design" the backside of the jack-o-lantern.  She really enjoyed the empowerment and was entertained long enough for me to finish most of the facial features.  Claire helped to clean up the space and even found some seeds on the ground to throw into the trash can.  She is indeed a great helper.

Later that night, Devon and I roasted the pumpkin seeds and sampled a few as Heroes was on.  Claire went to sleep late again and I’m hoping that she doesn’t pass out while trick-or-treating tonight.  She took her Giraffe costume to school today and is already making out with the loot.  Too bad for her that Devon and I have already planned to eat it all!

I thought it’d be nice to stop at CostCo today and get a few items, and even called Donna to see what we needed. I bought fun stuff like Vanilla ice cream, milk, and cheese, and then made my way to the car , to a car that didn’t want to turn on. It whined at me and wouldn’t turn over. I had perishables in the trunk and Claire in the backseat, looking at me with that I-want-to-go-home-right-now,-Momma! face. (And yes, she does call me Momma now, too). Anyway, the car wouldn’t start and the ice cream began to melt while the sun beating down on the mirrors of the car.

I called Donna who hurried down from work since it was almost 5, and she picked up the groceries and Claire. Then promised to return soon with jumper cables, and in the meantime I called AAA who said 60 minutes or less. At 61 minutes they pulled in and jumped it. It started right up and the air blew in my face while the sun went down behind us.

I drove around for 20 minutes before I drove by AUTOZONE. I stopped in and they said my battery was dead and I should buy a new one. Donna didn’t like that idea and wanted me to call the Tempe dealer. They said it would cost me $50 prorated, and AUTOZONE wanted $65.00 so I just bought it. I just did it. I said let’s throw away the money and buy a battery so we can get back and forth to work and everything would just be ok.

So I bought it, the lights turned up nice and bright and I drove home after 7pm, almost 14 hours after I left this morning. Yawn yawn yawn.

The other day my co-worker returned from a trek across campus with a funky orange couch.  No, not a large piece of furniture to sit on, a phone couch.  Cingular was on campus marketing their services, and this was one of their promotional items.  I had to have one.  Just having returned from another part of campus, I stated that I didn’t want to walk out again in the 110+ heat.  My co-worker called in a favor and 15 minutes later, my couch was delivered!  Now it sits next to my keyboard, my cellphone nestled between its arms.  Everytime I look at it, I smile.  Who ever thought a funky orange couch would bring about such happiness?

My mother-in-law sent me the following joke, which I felt compelled to post.

A man died and went to Heaven.  As he stood in front of the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.  He asked, "What are all those clocks?"St. Peter answered, "Those are Lie-Clocks.  Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock.  Every time you lie the hands on your clock move.""Oh", said the man.

"Whose clock is that?""That’s Mother Teresa’s", replied St. Peter.  "The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.""Incredible", said the man. 

"And whose clock is that one?"St. Peter responded, "That’s Abraham Lincoln’s clock.  The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abraham told only two lies in his entire life.

"Where’s Bush’s clock?" asked the man."Bush’s clock is in Jesus’ office.  He’s using it as a ceiling fan."

Being a girl, I love shoes.  Being a type A person, I want to try them on MY way.  I hate going into certain stores and not being able to WALK in the new shoes because they are tied together.  At Target, the shoes are connected by a stretchy band that lets you separate your feet by about a foot.  I’m 5’10" and my stride is almost three feet long.  Stretchy bands do not make me happy.  At Kohls, the shoes are tethered by a cable tie and you cannot get both shoes on at the same time because feet are naturally further apart than the shoes.  So I stopped looking in their shoe department…

Luckily there are places that allow your feet the freedom to experiment.  It is there that I prance, stride, squat, stretch, smell, savor and peruse.  I bought a really PRETTY pair about three weeks ago that I knew I wouldn’t be able to wear (too high).  Two weeks ago, I returned the shoes.  I’ve since bought five other pairs while looking for replacements.  (All at stores that allow feet to express themselves).  Woo-hoo! 

I purchased a silver pair of pumps to go with my new gray wool suit (for the winter); a pair of green suede wedges for a casual skirt that I own and possibily some other outfits; a pair of crazy, embroidered boots, also for the winter season, that could go with black dress pants or jeans; a pair of bronze heels for my brown suits; and a weird orange snakeskin and orange/brown/beige plaid stillettos with a T-strap that I couldn’t resist.

Of course, now I need a place to store all of the shoes. 

Do
you like cats? We found a cat in our
backyard this morning and it won’t leave! It tried to attack my dog and wasn’t scared when I ran after it with a
stick. It actually stayed put, hissed
and got up on its haunches to swat at me. Now it is camping out under our bushes. I’m not sure what to do…  Any advice?

Now we think the cat is in labor, or soon to be in labor.  Devon decided we should give the cat a blanket and I wanted to give it some water, so we planned our counter attack and just went outside.  The cat seemed scared as I approached, but just sat there and hissed/meowed.  It was one of the most interesting animal noises I’ve ever heard. 

I sat down the water and threw the blanket in the corner (it got caught on a branch of the bush).  As I started to retreat, Devon shouted "hurry up before it attacks again".  I made it to the porch and Devon quickly escorted me inside saying "let’s watch from here".  Haha.  What a scaredy cat!

A month or two ago, we went to Kohl’s. We hoped to find a suit for my new, manly physique, and as I tried on clothing in the dressing room the co-ed custodial staff vacuumed around me. They rattled away in Spanish and practically pushed their brooms under my feet. They rambled on, and I did not. I know how to say "taco" and maybe "tortilla". I even learned what "mas" meant from my daughter’s three year old friend. Today I didn’t need more tacos, and I was annoyed. I finally shoved the $200 suit back on the rack and clumped back to Customer Convenience (hah! not a convenience to me!). I told the manager that I was annoyed and I’d prefer them to wait to clean the dressing room stalls until after I removed myself from them. She apologized profusely and I smiled and left without buying anything.

Yesterday I had to go that store again. This time it was for a present for my daughter that was on sale for $7.49. I was hot, sticky, was wearing a tie, and listened to my daughter whine because she’d not eaten in three hours and only slept for two hours all day. The toy rang up for $9.99. I asked for my $2.50, and the teller explained that I needed to take my receipt all the way back to Customer Convenience. My head started to throb as that vein next to my eye began to dance the tumultuous tango high above the tie that was beginning to cut off circulation to my head. I took a breath and explained to the nice cashier that I was not about to walk to the back of the store, that it was not my fault it rang up incorrectly, and she would fix my problem immediately. I felt like the newsboy riding his bike down around town screaming "I want my two dollars" in Better Off Dead. She paged the manager to assist me in the front of the store, and after repaging her three times, I finally was rerung, refunded my original total, and apologized to. I left the store twenty minutes after I checked out, and I decided that Kohl’s was the rich people’s Walmart.

Yesterday I cleaned out my purse and found $6.63 in change.

Sort of makes me wonder what we could find if we ever cleaned out our closets.

Sitting in Starbuck’s with a colleague last night I had that feeling you get when someone is staring a hole through you. You know the one, where you’ve got a "Kick Me" sign on your back or a stringy booger grasping to the tip of your nose without you knowing. Looking across the room a skinny man with a bike messenger cap, orange shirt and short shorts was staring at my laptop. At one point he even hunched over since it was angled open. At this point I could just imagine him running over and slamming the lid closed and shouting obscenities at me and my opinions.

My laptop lid is covered in stickers. Maybe because the damn thing got scratched to hell and back over the years or maybe because I want to subtly tell people what I think. Now stickers like "It will be a great day when schools get the money they need and the air force needs to hold a Bake Sale to buy a Bomber" tell you a little about what I think of the military and politics, without jumping down your throat with my opinions. Or the other about television, parents and babysitters. Sometimes I fear telling people my opinions because their opinions may differ. I get tired, and I often think I write better than I can verbalize. Therefore, I’d rather write about my feelings, opinions, and desires. And sometimes I don’t even do that. Sometimes I just don’t. I keep them elsewhere and push them aside. But other times I go out and buy one of Those Stickers to just see who peers over their Venti-Iced-Fat-Free-No-Whip-White-Mocha-Add-a-Shot at my computer lid.

I can’t believe that I punished myself last night by tuning into the Miss Universe pagent. What was I thinking?  After scouring the channels and checking the DVR, I settled on the pagent.  What a desperate move…

I tuned in as the top 20 finalists were named, then labored through the swimsuit competition, immediately elimated those whose ribs jutted out further than their breasts.  After naming the top 10 (I picked 5!), the evening dress "competition" ensued.  Could some of these dresses even be considered gowns?  Paraguay – what were you thinking?  The mess of a metal contraption that Puerto Rico assembled was my second to least favorite.  USA – loved the gold neckline and backdrop, but the bottom was distracting.  Japan – love it!  Switzerland – definitely a good color choice. 

The field was narrowed to five and two of my picks were still included:  USA and Japan, although Switzerland had grown on me.  The questions were probably the highlight of the evening, as I enjoyed the women competely ignoring their interpreters and rambling in foreign languages.  Now, on to the results.  5th place:  USA.  Whatever!  Do they keep USA around in the finals so that viewers don’t tune out?  4th place:  Paraguay.  Good!  3rd place:  Switzerland.  What?  Are you sure?  You didn’t actually intend to put Puerto Rico in the top two did you?  (Yes, I was talking outloud to the TV at this point). 

OK, I’m holding my breath.  You have to pick Japan; she is so spunky and energetic and cute.  Come on, pick Japan.  Dammit.  Are you serious?  (I throw the remote).  Puerto Rico beats Japan.

I get up and storm out of the room telling Devon that this is the reason I don’t watch these shows and to never let me do that to myself again.  You know, because it is all his fault.