FlipSide:Starting May 21st, 2001

A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

Well, the warm weather was nice while it lasted. Aaah, spring in Minnesota. The sun is . . . missing and the birds are falling from the trees from frostbite. The high today was a balmy 59 degrees with a constant grey drizzle. The forecast for the rest of the week is more of the same, with a possibility of frost on Wednesday evening. Frost. Last week at this time it was too stinkin' hot for me to do a post, now today, a short week later, I am sitting here in my warm robe drinking coffee. But the mosquitoes are still out. The holiday weekend forecast is not looking good either. The high I saw for Saturday was 69, while balmy for what we are having now, is not exactly what I had in mind for a barbeque. Speaking of which, pardon me for a moment while I remind Jodi and Mr. Saturday Night to discuss getting together with the Dominik clan over the holiday weekend. (I really need to come up with a better nickname for him don't you think? Email me with your ideas. Keep 'em clean, now. My 7 year old can read, ya' know.)

Again, I found Jack in my bed at 3 am. Now, like any mother, I will take most any excuse to get to cuddle my active son but I draw the line at 3 am for several nights running. I am running out of ideas as to how to keep in him his bed. On one hand, I want him to feel free to come to me when he is scared, but the little rat is most definitely taking advantage of my sleep deprived state. There are only so many days one can take of sleep deprivation.

Well, I am fresh out of inspiration tonight. Blame it on the sleep deprivation. If this continues, God knows what I'll write here. My imagination can run wild when my ID takes over. Get your mind outta the gutter. Sheese. I'm a mother, you know. And old to boot. Or at least I feel that way today. I am 34 years old and right now I am feeling every day of it. And that's a lot of days.

Well, I have gotten a couple of suggestions for a new pseudonym for Mr. Saturday Night. I was even contacted by the man himself!!! Perhaps we should vote for everyone's preference.

Proposed Nickname	Reasoning . . .
Mr. Saturday Night	Current nickname. Based on his first date with Jodi, on a Saturday night.
Mr. Music Appreciation	Suggested in light of his relationship with "the girls" and their owner.
The Music Man	See above.
Todd	'Cause it's his name. But it's just not as much fun, now, is it?

Feel free to email me with your votes or further suggestions. I will announce a winner on Friday. (And reserve the right to use this for fodder of future journal entries, hehehehehe.)

Well, John got word, of a sort, from his office today. His boss's boss will be calling each staff member tomorrow to discuss "packages" (by that I am assuming severance packages). Some staff will be there through February. Unfortunately, John will not be there tomorrow, as he is attending the Strictly Business Computer Expo, so hopefully he will either get a call on his cell phone or Jim (his boss's boss) will leave a message on his voicemail with a number that John can get back to him. Looks like we will at least have some certainty about the situation soon.

The weather is horrible. 44 degrees at noon with grey skies and rain. YUCK. The low tonight is supposed to be 40, as the clouds will keep it relatively warm. (Looks like I need to move those tomato plants up against the wall. No frost in the forecast, but 40 is damn cold for late May.) It is snowing in International Falls, up on the Canadian border. I ventured outside for a few minutes after lunch, looking for a bracing stroll to wake myself up (monkey boy was up to his nocturnal wanderings again) and it was a little more than I bargained for. I head back into the skyway like a thin-blooded snowbird. And they opened the pool at our apartment complex over the weekend. Apparently the weather gods have gotten a good laugh out of that one.

The kids were crying and whining tonight. They seem very tired, they must not be sleeping well. Maybe Jack would sleep better if he stayed in his own bed. I swear, the more stressed I get, the more tired I get, the more tired I get, the more I snack. Yesterday was a complete loss, diet-wise. Today is better, but I could do soooo much better. I need motivation or I am going to gain back all my weight. Something I REFUSE to do.

A friend at work had a death in her family last week and the memorial service was today. I made a meatloaf and froze it and will deliver it to her at work tomorrow. At least then she will have one meal taken care of. It seems no one is cities does anything for families that lose loved ones. When I was growing up, food was always brought to the bereaved family. I can remember eating for days off the goodies that were thoughtfully provided by friends and acquaintances. I do that here and people are, well, stunned. They don't know what to say. Do we lose our civility and our concern for our fellows when we live in a city? I hope not, 'cause those are not the values I want to pass on to my kids.

I forgot my wedding rings today. I had put them in the cleaner last night after I made meatloaf and I forgot to rinse them off and put them back on this morning. Gee, does that mean I'm not married? (John says no, but if I meet a rich fella . . .) It's amazing how barren you feel without them. My bare ring finger has caught my eye several times today. I notice my naked finger out of the corner of my eye while I am typing, or gesturing as I talk, or any of many other mundane day to day tasks I take on without noticing my hands. (And yes, I talk with my hands. Somehow it doesn't surprise you, now does it? In fact, in high school, my friends ran a little experiment. They made me sit on my hands and talk. From my point of view, it didn't work real well.)

Back when I had only been married about a month, I had a wedding to go to in Breckenridge, Minnesota. (On the North Dakota border, talk about FLAT!) John was unable to attend due to his work schedule (he was working retail and you just don't get weekends off in November when you work retail.) so I went with a friend of ours (and my old boyfriend). We had just gotten on the freeway when I realized I didn't have my wedding rings on. I squealed and said we absolutely had to go back. And he, silly single man that he was, wanted to know if I really needed them. Let's see, I have been married only a month and I am attending another wedding, and you ask if I need my wedding rings? I quickly acquainted him with the fact that my wedding rings were, in fact, an absolute requirement. He just looked at me and shook his head. Silly single man

The gentleman who accompanied me to this wedding was also named Jon. As the bride was an old roommate of mine, her parents were acquainted with me and the fact that I had recently married. As such, they made the logically assumption, when they greeted us in the receiving, that Jon was my new husband. I am told the looks of horror that came over both our faces as we hastily denied being married to each other were quite comical . The bride could hear the our loud and vehement denials all the way down the receiving line. You see, Jon and I had not broken up on the best of terms. He decided he wanted to go back to his old girlfriend. He chose to explain this to me using the words, "She is so small and needs me and you are so big and independent." You know, I just didn't take his description of me well. Knowing the man as I do, I know he didn't mean it the way it came out, but there is just no good way to take it when you boyfriend breaks up with you and says one of the reasons is you are "big and independent". I got him back, though. I made him an usher in my wedding, as he and John were quite close. So he had to spring for a hotel room, a gift, and a $70 dollar tux rental.

There has been a new entrant in the sweepstakes to rechristen "Mr. Saturday Night". Check out last night's post for the previous entrants. Tonight's new submission is "Saturday Night Special". Oooohhhh, there are sooooo many place to go with that one. One could say "he's a pistol". But that would be a horrible joke and sooo beneath me. Okay, so it's not. Oh, and Todd, I did get one vote for just "Todd".

Well, I need to bathe and let my husband have his computer back. And put my wedding rings back on.

I ride the bus to downtown St. Paul every morning. (Okay, most mornings, some mornings, the Dominik hacienda is just not moving that fast.) The bus I take is a double or accordion bus that is consistently full, sometimes with a few people standing. (My kids seem to think this bus is a carnival ride. When we take one to the State Fair, they always sit in the seats in the accordion section and squeal whenever the bus takes a corner. They don't need to ride any midway rides, they got THE BUS. But that's another story.) This morning I am one of the last people on the bus (a shock, I know) and I come to the center of the bus, where the accordion seats are. To my right is a woman who has set her rather large bag on the seat beside her. Since there are not many seats left and there are still people behind me, I say "Excuse me" to her, expecting she will look up, get a clue, and move her bag. Nope. She looks up at me a minute, then shifts her legs to the side so I may more easily pass by her to another seat. What, does she think this is her personal private transportation? I'll bet she is one of the same people who's stuff ends up in my overhead compartment on airplanes too, 'cause they need so much room for all their carry-ons. Sheese. Lady, just drive to St. Paul if you are that much of a pig. She probably drives one of those damn SUVs too. You know the type, someone who's idea of "off road" is the mall parking lot. They don't haul alot of stuff and they only have 2 kids if they have any at all. They just buy SUVs because they are in and they can afford them.

Well, I am just in toooooo good a mood to let that woman ruin my day. You see, I had really really good political news this morning. I'm sure many of you have heard of Senator Jeffers of Vermont, who is expected to announce today that he is leaving the Republican party to be an Independent. This will give control of the Senate over to the Democrats, with the power to chair committees and decide what bills are brought up when. Not good for the Bush White House.

Then, I hear on the radio that Senator Jesse Helms (a man slightly to the right of Attila the Hun, who has been holding up the US paying UN dues and any number of other obligations most of my lifetime) is considering retiring and that knowing he will lose his chairmanship of the Foreign Relations committee could tip the scales against him running again. Better and better.

Then, to top it all off, I am informed by a colleague who is reading the paper that it seems Senator Strom Thurmond, who at 97 is the oldest member of Congress (I think he may have served with Washington and Jefferson, and incidentally, they didn't like him either) is ill and may not survive or be forced by his poor health to retire midterm (he was just re-elected in 2000). Now, please understand, I am not rejoicing that a man is ill and may die. I am sure his family and friends are greatly grieved by his condition. However, that said, I have always considered him to be a blight on the Senate and I am ecstatic at the possibility of his removal from their ranks. All and all, it is a good day for the Democrats (and, in my opinion, for the entire country).

Under the heading of "That's Something You Don't See Everyday", I have this to offer. Walking through the skyway yesterday, I was approached by a gorilla, being trailed by a camera man. Okay, so it was a guy in a gorilla suit, but still, it is just not something that happens to me often. It seems the gorilla is concerned with education in Minnesota. He asked my companion and me some questions regarding how we felt about teacher's pay. Of course both of us felt they were underpaid (considering my companion is married to a teacher and I have considered becoming one, he really hit a receptive audience). I am not sure what the gorilla's purpose was, but the camera man was filming. So, I guess watch for me in an upcoming Education Minnesota (the Minnesota Teacher's union) commercial.

I suspect the gorilla was out on the streets due to the fact that Minnesota's Legislature was forced to adjourn this week without passing a budget. If a special session is not called by our governor {the gorilla name Jesse}, our state government will shut down as of July 1. I have a friend who works for the state and she told me that they have been advised by their supervisors to not make any major purchases in the near future. If there is no budget, obviously, there is no money for teachers. Hence the gorilla. The best part of this whole mess (she says sarcastically) is that our governor has not decided when he will call this special session. He has publicly toyed with the idea of not calling this session until after the July 4 holiday, which would cause the government to shut down, in order to "hold the Legislature's feet to the fire". Great, 'cause the Legislature did do things your way, let's put 30,000 people out of work. That's good thinkin' Jesse. State employees don't need to make house payments or car payments or hey, even feed their kids. To be fair, though, Jesse has a history of making public pronouncements like that one and then following a more logical path. I don't know if he has a good staff to talk him out of it or if he goes home and his wife smacks him upside the head and says "What were you thinking?!"

And the beat goes on . . . and the day gets better. John received word this morning, not official word yet, but word, that he and the programmers have "jobs as long as they want them". If they stay until August 31 of this year, they will get a bonus of 2 months salary. There she blows!!!! That is my house downpayment. I have now been amusing my office by doing the "crank dance" and singing all through the office. Lalala. I am a happy woman. I am told I am much easier to work with when I am not having quite so good a day. But I'm makin' 'em laugh.

Rhiannon manage to flummox her father at supper last night. She started out with the announcement "I think I like Colin best of all my boyfriends." Notice the plural "boyfriends". Daddy's immediate response was "And do these walking corpses have names?" (Ed - Not precisely true. My immediate response was to attempt to pass milk, linguini, and spaghetti sauce through both nostrils at once. The resulting backup gave me a headache most of the evening. -- jd)He doesn't deal well with the idea that his little girl likes boys. And she really really likes boys. She is only 7! (and Dad is 37, going on 97 -- jd). Rhiannon, usually a sensible child, ignored her father's outburst and continued to catalogue her boyfriends, from preschool to the present, with a little synopsis of her relationship with each like: "I was the most comfortable with Colin, I loved him and I knew he loved me". Hmmmm. . . good thing Colin doesn't go to school with Rhiannon anymore or I would have to rethink Daddy picking the kids up from daycare (So would daddy -- jd). Then we heard a few names I hadn't heard before in connection with a "relationship" with my daughter. Then we ended with her current amore, who, she stated, she would like to kiss her. John's eyes kinda glazed and he froze with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to this mouth. Then he closed his eyes. I believe he was praying for patience (no, not patience. A general reduction in stress and stomach acid, I think -- jd). Either that, or planning where he could get the proper armaments for the plan he was hatching (Yeah. Nukes-R-Us is having a sale this weekend, and me without my government procurement plan -- jd.).

Rhiannon either ran out of things to say (doubtful, she always seems to have something to say, even if it is repeating what she has already said) or wised-up and changed the subject to the less volatile topic of politics. "Mommy," she says "Should I be a Democrat?" Being the good parent that I am, I told her that she should make up her own mind when she was older. "But you're a Democrat, Mommy." I explained to her, yes, I was, but I still always voted for the best candidate. (Which usually is the Democrat, and no I didn't say that out loud (right. Just another beer bottle muttering in the fridge... -- jd). Besides, my congressman is a Republican and I like him very much and vote for him when he is up for reelection.)

If my in-laws had heard that conversation, they'd be suing for custody. My mother-in-law believes that Democrats are evil (Ed - again, not entirely true. To ascribe to them evil tendencies would be to acknowledge them as both intelligent and human - far better to classify them with pixies and ogres and pretend they don't exist -- jd). (Except for me, she likes me. I think she believes there is hope to convert me. Good luck. My mother would as soon as shoot me as hear I had gone over to "the dark side".) I do not exaggerate. I do NOT discuss politics with my in-laws. Occasionally my mother-in-law attempts to solicit my opinions and start a dialogue, but I know better. I saw what happened after the election in 1992. After the election, John and I were up at his folk's place and the conversation (not steered by me) turned to the recent election. John, who had been raised in this house and really should have known better, proudly announced he had voted for Bill Clinton (ed - Given the alternative, I had serious doubts about Bush the Elder lasting for another four years, and the thought of his aging heart being the only thing separating the Dan Quayle from the Oval Office had me peeing in my pants -- jd). Omigod, you would have thought the roof had fallen in. (Or one of my relatives had announced to my family had they had become Republican {always spoken in a hushed tone} <g>) His sisters proceeded to tell him of the moral decay our society would suffer at the hands of this monster (Ed - oh, how prophetic they were -- jd.) and his mother seemed to believe that babies would be bludgeoned to death in the streets. John was loudly attempting to defend his choice when his youngest sister turned to him and said "you just voted for him because of HER". Ohoh, absolute silence. At times like this, my axiom is born out. Remember ladies, when your husband does something his family doesn't like, it's your fault, you're just the bitch that married in. I never said a word. The conversation kinda ended abruptly after that and we moved on to less contentious topics, like religion. (Being as we are all Catholic, that actually is a less contentious topic, most of the time, but I won't got there . . . )

This evening my daughter had a social engagement. She had a surprise party to attend. Of course, seeing as she is seven and a tad bit gregarious (oh what a shock considering her parents are so shy and retiring) we decided it would be best to not inform her of the party until the morning of the party. Apparently we didn't need to exercise this care, as it seems this was the social event of the 1st grade season. Every girl in Rhiannon's class was invited. The only girl who wasn't aware of the party was the guest of honor. (And her best friend, poor girl, she walked around school all day bewildered as to why she wasn't invited to Kimmy's party, only to find out when she got home, she was. Oh well, since she was going, her tender feelings were miraculously healed.) This is a braver mother than I. Imagine, if you will, 15 screaming, giggling, headstrong 1st grade girls invading your home. Just pour that bottle of ibuprofen down my throat now please, I feel the headache coming on just thinking about it.

After we got home, I put in one of my favorite movies, The Ideal Husband with Minnie Driver, Rupert Everett, and Cate Blanchett. According to the featurette on the CD, this movie is based on an Oscar Wilde play. That explains the vivid dialogue and witty repartee. I love watching this movie. Rupert Everett is a scream as a gentleman of leisure. I highly recommend the movie to anyone who enjoys period pieces (it takes place in 1895 London), Oscar Wilde and/or witty dialogue, or romantic comedies.

According to the weather forecast, we may finally see the sun tomorrow. And both Sunday and the Memorial Day is supposed to be in the 70s. A good thing since we are supposed to meet Jodi and the Music Man for a picnic on Monday. Should be fun, and I can finally put a face to the email. Aaah, yes, the contest. Thanks for reminding me. Since I told Mr. Saturday Night that his vote could count double, "just Todd" won the polling. However, it's my post and I have decided to use several of the nicknames interchangably. Nah na nah na boo boo.

Well, this nonsense has gone on long enough today and I think I have gotten myself into plenty of trouble should certain family members read my post so, Ciao, baby! (And yes, I am aware of my husband's attempted witticisms in the first few paragraphs, he will be dealt with, you may be sure.)

Another miserable grey and rainy day here in the Twin Cities. Well, to be fair, the sun did make a couple cameo appearances in the sky. Since it was still yucky outside (and frankly, even if the sun had shown it's sorry face today, most parks would have been too soggy to send my little mud-man to anyway) we took the to Mall of America. Wandering those little legs through that monstrosity (each level or lap, if you prefer, is a mile, see Marcia you can get your daily exercise and shoe shop at the same time!) tires them out. The Warner Brothers Store was closing their store, so we picked up a Harry Potter tee-shirt for Rhiannon and a Scooby-Doo tee-shirt for Jack for only $18 total. Not bad, we will have to stop by again before they close for good on June 26. Of course, we also made the obligatory stops at Rybicki Cheese Shop and the Original Cookie Factory. Yum. If you ever get to the MOA, these shops are a must. And you can get your family relatively cheap treats, especially at the cheese shop. They always have samples of cheese out front for shoppers to taste. The shop, decorated in Green Bay Packer decor, naturally, after all Wisconsin is the cheese state, has all sorts of kinds of cheese. If you want a snack to nibble on as you cruse the mall, you can either buy a cheese stick, string cheese, or a bag of cheese curds (a Minnesota and Wisconsin delicacy). We chose the cheese curds, and other than being a little salty, they were very tasty.

After we had wandered the mall for several hours, we took the kids to Mac & Dons (McDonalds) so they could eat more food with absolutely no nutritional value for their dinner and run in the playland and completely tucker themselves out. We finally got home about 7:30 and the kids watched (again) the final episode of Star Trek Voyager. While they were watching that, I cleaned, made up some caramel pecan rolls for tomorrow morning, and a new recipe for chocolate chip cookies. (I hope to have enough energy to get a start on my recipe page tonight, so take a look and see if I got those recipes there.) So now, it is 10 to 11 and I sit here typing this and watching Midway on Turner Classic Movies. One of the best war movies ever made. My dad loved war movies (or anything starring John Wayne).

As a result of my activities today and tonight, I haven't gotten squat done on Rhiannon's quilt. Well, unless you count talking to my mother-in-law about it. She has found more material for me to use for her quilt and some material for froggy quilt for Jack. Because, of course, what one child has the other must have as well. I can't have them in therapy years from now, complaining that Mom like so and so best because she made them a quilt but never made one for them. But at this rate, they will get them when they are 20. So far, I have about 10 little pillows for Rhiannon's quilt, which will make about one row. There are, of course, two ways to look at this, but being as I am not the optimist of the Netwidows, my outlook tends to be more, well, let's just say it is discouraging, so I choose not to think about it at all.

Well, if tomorrow's weather is passable, I will take the kids outside to play. Perhaps a cookout of something with some friends. Or just a run in the park with a picnic lunch. Sandwiches and stuff, nothing fancy. My, this is a boring post, no catty comments about my husband, no stories. Hmmm. . . maybe I can leave you with one story. Let's see . . . unfortunately, I'll be damned if I can think of one. Well, if I do, I will add it. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll just have to disappoint you all with this mundane post. Sorry. Ta.

Well, so far a very productive day. I have created a forced labor camp in my children's bedroom, making them pick up in there so I can actually see the carpet and their clothes are actually in their drawers or hanging up. Apparently I am the Josef Stalin of Mommies. Why is it they need me to hold their heads and physically turn them in the direction of the stuff on the floor? I have had them to the eye doctor, I know they can see. Do they think if they ignore the mess it will go away? Or do they think if they ignore it I will go away? They really should know me better than that. So far they have been at a 1/2 an hour job for 3 1/2 hours now. I have spent the time cleaning out Rhiannon's drawers of clothes that don't fit her, picking up in the kitchen, feeding everyone caramel rolls for breakfast (very good, the recipe is on my new recipe page) getting stuff out of the freezer for the picnic tomorrow, and generally trying to get this place livable again with very little cooperation from the natives.

I have also managed to get up a movie page now. Check it out when you get a chance.

I hate this where I have to stand over them all and tell them what to pick up and watch them do it if it is going to get done. I had hoped to do something outside today but right now that is not looking like it is going to happen. Repeat the mantra, Ilovemyfamily Ilovemyfamily, Ilovemyfamily (damn, it's not working).

Well, hopefully we will get outside today and my house will get picked up and I will post more when the urge to kill has past.

Well, a trip to Bachman's and $20 later, I felt much better. I abandoned the gulag to John and headed out before I did physical harm to my children. Came home with more plants, some of which I potted this afternoon. Unfortunately, Hulk Hogan, my downstairs neighbor, objected to my choice of de-stressing activity. He came up and proceeded to express his outrage at finding some dirt and water on his deck. John basically told him to get over himself, it is part of the price you pay living under other people. I agreed to pot my plants on my other deck, since he doesn't use the one off his living room, but I told him I couldn't do much about pots tipping from wind and rain and such. He said he had complained to the office twice now, apparently they are taking this very seriously, since we haven't heard from them as yet. Sheese. So much for stress relief.

After that we went out for a walk and took the kids to the neighborhood park, where they played for about an hour. We had my grandmother's Hungarian Goulash for supper and now I am trying to heard my filthy children into the bathtub. I am going to try to get some work done on Rhiannon's quilt and not kill my children for their lack of listening skills. Ilovemyfamily Ilovemyfamily, Ilovemyfamily (my, this sounds familiar). After my kids are in bed, I think it's time for a very large drinky-poo. Well, at least they're cute.


Looks just like his dad, don't he? Oh, gee, is my face red, that isn't John. This guy is clean shaven and John has more red in his hair. Oops.	Ahh, legoland. Nirvana for the child.
	I don't need to be rescued damnit. I'll do it myself. Now, give me your gold so I can shop. I need more shoes!!!
Where did that pesky dragon get to, anyway? Ooooo, is that heat I feel on my behind?!

Would you believe I started this? I showed Jack how I used to swing with my legs twined up around the swing chains. Yes, I actually demonstrated. And yes, that strange sound you heard around 6:30 this evening was my back cracking. Luckily, none of my vertebrae seem to be damaged, although I am more aware of each individual vertebrae's existence in a way I had not been. Give me a break, it has been a good 10 years since I attempted that particular move. And my husband had enough of a self-preservation instinct to not take a picture of it. I'm so proud of him.

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Copyright © 2001 Ann Dominik. All rights reserved. Complaints about the technical details of this page can be directed to the abused geek who takes care of it for me, and is grossly underpaid for what he does, he thinks. No reproduction without written permission. The opinions and content of this site are my own, and not the responsibility of this site's host, my employer, my pets, my parents or anyone else you may care to blame. Please respect my opinions and I will do the same for you. I may on occasion publish e-mail to me; if you do not wish your mail to be published, please write CONFIDENTIAL or DO NOT PUBLISH at the top of the e-mail. If you would prefer to remain anonymous, please note that as well. If you're incapable of reasoned civilized discourse but feel compelled to correspond with me, I'll be happy to filter your mail out after a few choice comments regarding your ancestors, upbringing, and the likelihood of your family tree not forking in the past several generations. And thank you for checking out THE FLIP SIDE.