FlipSide:Starting December 10, 2001

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

Last Updated : Friday, December 14, 2001 10:46 PM -0600

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Monday, December 10, 2001

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After the 2 weeks from HELL at work, I am back. Apparently the best way to find out if anyone is reading me is to quit posting for awhile. To those of you who were apparently going into withdrawal without your fix of my twisted version of reality, my apologies. Since I have so much to catch up on, this post will be more disjointed than usual. Oh hush. I said more than usual.

Leslie Scott had an interesting link on her site last week. What famous work of art fits your personality? Here are my results.

"You are Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa.
You are extremely popular and widely known. Although unassuming and unpretentious, your enigmatic smile has charmed millions. You are a mystery, able to be appreciated from afar, but ultimately unknowable and thus intriguing. "

Hmm . . . I am intriguing but best experienced from afar. Sounds dangerous.

(ed - and if you think I'm gonna touch that one, you're outta your freakin gourd... -- jd.)

Last night I finished making out a list of all the people we want to send Christmas cards to. How did this little exercise in frustration and self recrimination start? Did some mother or grandmother or aunt decide that there wasn't enough guilt in the world with Thank You notes and so they had to add an annual familial mailing to let everyone know that you are still alive? (You will notice that all the relatives I mentioned are female? I assure you that only a woman would come up with this ritual. Men just figure their mother will fill everyone in on their lives in THEIR Christmas cards.)

(ed - well, Duh -- jd)

As much as I piss and moan about it, I actually kinda like doing them. I have whittled my list down to 52 from the 80 that I was sending out a few years ago. Now, the slimming of the Christmas card list is a test of diplomacy and finesse. You see, you can't cut someone, willy nilly, from your list that is regularly sending YOU a card. This is rule number 1. (Unless, of course, you want to sever the entire relationship.) And you don't want to cut them after only one year of a missing card, after all, the card could have gone astray in the mail or they could be just having an off year, kinda like we did last year. (Yes, I admit it, no cards went out from the Dominik hacienda last year. I hang my head in shame. And hope I am not cut off of too many Christmas card lists for my one year lapse.) And elderly relatives must be included whether they send you cards or not. Age does have some privileges. Local friends with whom you regularly speak may be omitted, since they already know most everything you put in your Christmas Form Letter for the general consumption of friends and family. You absolutely must include on your list long lost friends from high school and college that you never hear from any other time of year, otherwise you would never hear about little Timmy being accepted to Harvard and charged with Grand Theft Auto in the same year.

(ed - For the record, I have no cousin Timmy. I do know a fellow who might fit the description, however - well, not the Harvard part, but ... well, time to shut up before we realize the statute of limitations hasn't yet expired -- jd).

Some people simply send a card with their names inside. I hate that. It tells me nothing, other than the fact that you are still breathing, have not lost your wits to the extent that you don't know your name (and the importance of sending Christmas cards), and still have enough saliva to lick a stamp. (Actually, with the advent of self sticking stamps, it doesn't even tell me that, so you could be suffering from a catastrophic loss of bodily fluids and I would never know!) Sending cards to all and sundry also gives you an excuse to use all those little teeny tiny pictures of your kids that seem to be included in all school photographic packages that are too small to use for any other purpose. Of course, since the arrival of our digital camera, we have been know to print out various pictures of our offspring in all sorts of attractive (or alarming) poses. As any regular reader of this little bit of dysfunction is aware.

Which leads me to the aforementioned Christmas Form Letter. That is actually John's derogatory name for it, but it does kinda fit. You see, I used to hand write personalized messages in all my Christmas cards. (And remember, I was sending over 80 then!) What this accomplished was my Aunt Beverly (Anderson) knew absolutely everything that was going on in my life. However, the Molines got only the highlights, and the Volkmuths, well, they were aware that my salivary glands were in working order, but not much else. Very early on, I decided that this just wouldn't do. All of the illustrious individuals on my Christmas card list deserved to be treated to the saga of Jack's latest set of stitches, Rhiannon's love life, and of course, the stimulating everyday nonsense that makes up our daily lives. Thus was born the Dominik Christmas Form Letter. However, I try very carefully to not just use it for family promotion (ala, little Timmy got into Harvard). I am sure to put in some of the trials and tribulations of our lives as well. All of which makes for 2 minutes of entertaining reading before it is used to paper the bird's cage, I'm sure.

(ed - please note all of this occurred prior to our taking up this ... habit -- jd).

With all my free time, one would think I would have all my Christmas cookies baked and my decorations up, right? You would be WRONG. Completely, totally, inexcusably wrong. However, I have gotten my house cleaned up to the point that I believe I can admit visitors without first requiring a tetanus booster. Okay, so it's not dirty, it's just cluttered. Now much less so. I ruthlessly threw out stuff (and yes, my husband and children do continue to look in the garbage bags to see what I am throwing out), stored stuff on the deck (our storage spaces are all full), and did laundry until my children (and spouse) begged for mercy. 2 people can now enter or leave the living room at the same time!!! Care to lay odds on just how long that will last? Of course, the most important cleaning discovery . . . the complete Risk game. Seems the Jones family (minus Dad, who forgot to inform Mom of a certain commitment he had made for himself and thus is being left to cool his heels home alone . . .) will be staying over at our humble abode on Saturday. Those older than 10 will be (hopefully) playing a rousing game of Risk after the children have been banished, oops, I mean put to bed. Hopefully, I will get to baking at least a few cookies this week or we won't have any until we go to Iowa on the 21st. Now that, would be a truly tragic event.

Tuesday, December 11, 2001

Well, 25 cards and one batch of cookies, I am on my way to the Holiday Season. Last night I managed to get 25 cards done (John "helped". He did one.) And I baked a batch of family favorites, oatmeal chocolate peanut butter chip with pecan cookies. Way too long a name, I must work on that. Hopefully I will get some more cards done tonight. Cookies depends on the state of the dishwasher (as in has John gotten all the dishes into it or are there left overs). If the gods of dishwashers permit, I will make Russian teacakes tonight. If not, tomorrow then.

(ed - 1-It's tough to share an address book with a control freak. 2-All the dishes are in the dishwasher, and both cookie sheets are hand-washed. -- jd)

Tonight I proved beyond a doubt I am the master of useless trivia in this house. While we were eating dinner, the television announced that a new Brady movie would soon debut. The Bradys Go to the White House. Yes, your fears have been realized, Mike Brady is elected President. And you thought we had problems when W was elected. Anyway, this led to a "Brady-off" between John and I. You see, one of us would quote a line from the Brady Bunch theme song, and the other person had to come up with the next line. John was stumped by "they were four men living all together". Obviously he didn't watch as much Brady Bunch as I did as a child. I will have to send him for remedial Bradyization at Nick at Night.

(ed - and she pisses and moans because I know the finer points of HTML and CSS code, instead. Sheesh. -- jd).

It was a very long day at work and this is about as inspired as I get today, I fear. Jodi just doesn't provide the entertainment she used to. I did, however, get into a interesting dissertation with Marcia Bilbrey via email regarding the nature of "need". Provoked by my comments regarding Christmas cards last night, Marcia sent me an email saying that she sends Christmas cards because she wants to, not needs to. Which lead to my philosophical ponderings on the nature of the term "want". My position, basically is there are the greedy "wants" and the needy "wants". The greedy wants are the things that we really want and would enjoy, purely for the quality they bring to our lives. These things vary from person to person. For me they are things like chocolate and movies and CDs.

The needy wants are the things we must do, either because we have been programmed from childhood to do them or we must have them simply to survive. There are certain things that are standard to all people, food and shelter being the most common to everyone. However, the quality of these things that we NEED are programmed into us. You don't need a 2500 square foot split level with 4 bedrooms and 2 baths for shelter. Depending on where you live, a tin shack would be sufficient to keep the rain, snow, and wind out, just not as comfortable. And of course, there are the things that we have been programmed to "believe" that we need that we really don't. Christmas cards, for me, fall into this kind of "want". I want to get Christmas cards from others and so I send them to others and I want share my life with them, so I send them the dreaded Christmas Form Letter. For the record, I do enjoy sending out Christmas cards, it is just one of jobs that seems terribly onerous until you actually sit down to do it. I would guess that Marcia will expound upon her views on the subject on her site tonight. (And yes, I was the one in the 8am philosophy class arguing that human nature is basically evil and the "good" people spend their lives struggling against their basic nature. The "bad" people are the ones that don't exert the effort to overcome their nature. I think I scared my prof, but, that's what you get when you drag a freshman out of bed for an 8am philosophy class after a night of liquid entertainment. She pretty much didn't ask my opinion again all semester.)

(ed - so THAT'S what I did wrong in Phil classes -- jd)

Rhiannon's homework assignment tonight was to come up with a list of free things she could give her family for Christmas. Her first thought was for a "No Attitude" coupon she could make up for me. I told her I wanted 52 of them. One for each week of the year. She happily agreed until I told her that that still only counted as one item on her list. Then she wasn't so happy. Where are those damn coupons when you need them.

It is terribly quiet around here. I had better go investigate just what my children are softly destroying. Pray for me.

Wednesday, December 12, 2001

Seems Jodi has taken offense that I said she in no longer as entertaining as she used to be. So she went to great pains to aquaint me with the wonderous muscial instrument that is her body. In fact, I think I can safely say that her entire body is now getting in on the act. Not only do her boobs sing, but her butt hums. (Hmmm . . . if your lips vibrate when you hum with your mouth . . . no, not going there. UMI (Ugly Mental Image). And after Matt and the Goat, I have enough of those to live with . . .) Not that she demonstrated this for me, mind you. In fact, let the record show that I have never heard her boobs sing, I have only her word for it. However, I consider that good enough and do not plan to investigate the matter further. Especially not in light of her latest orchestral manuver. I wonder if she could give John lessons. He definately needs tuning, if you know I mean. Then again, I'm not sure I want to know what she adjusts to get the proper tones out of each body part. I would think the knobs are in different places for male and female, but I could be wrong. I think I have gone as far on this matter as I care to now . . . So, let's just say I take it back. Jodi, you are entertaining, so PULEEZE, don't tell me how to tune . . . anything.

(ed - I'm reminded of the band "Orchestral Manouvers In The Dark" - now I'm wondering if I should have paid more attention to them... -- jd)

In another completely unrelated manner (you'll be relieved to know) it seems our email at work today was hijacked by a spammer. Now, we are a company of 25 employees, so it raised an alarm when their were 8000 emails sitting in the que waiting to go out. Apparently some spammer thought WCRA-MN seemed like a great address to send "Increase your business by 100%" spam. If you received this email, I apologize and quite simply say "It wasn't us. Honest!"

Thursday, December 13, 2001

This Day Intentionally Left Blank.

Friday, December 14, 2001

Had a little impromptu conference with Jack's preschool teacher today. She had been on vacation for a week and when she came back yesterday, Jack took one look at her and burst into tears. This, naturally, left me wondering just what was going on. All I could get out of Jack was that she was mean to him. Since Rhiannon had had this teacher as well, I wasn't immediately concerned that he was being beaten or anything, so, as I was running late, I tabled the whole situation to deal with later. After some conversation with the young man last night and this morning, I found out his definition of "mean". She makes him mind. It seems the young assistant teacher who had charge of the room in Patty's absence had no idea how to control a room full of 5 year olds, mostly boys. I can sympathize. Sometimes I'm not sure what to do with one! Anyway, Patty came back and they all had to tow the line again. THAT is Jack's definition of mean. (Hmmm . . . I wonder if this has anything to do with my stock answer of ". . . because I'm a MEAN mommy" when the kids are questioning some directive I have given them just a tad too much.)

Through all of this, though, I found out Jack is doing well in a typical 5 year old fashion. He asks why (sometimes too much in my book, but his teacher is delighted with his inquisitiveness, but then again, I'll bet she's not answering some of the "whys" I am) he's good at recognizing letters and numbers, and is fairly attentive. Then there is his "peer interaction". What was called "Working and playing well with others" when we were in school. Seems he is REALLY good at that one. For example, he was hunkered down with a buddy of his having some milk the other day, discussing all of their issues that are of great importance to preschool boys. (Doesn't this sound like a couple of guys having beers in a bar?) Then Jack looks across the table at his friend and says "Don't you think your big brother is GROSS?" Said friend looks back and says "Why?" "Because he wants to marry my sister!" (At this point in the story, John slaps his forehead, groans, and scribbles down another name on his "Dead Man Walking" list.) Friend says "When's the wedding?" Jack replies, "Not for a while, their not teenagers yet."

Of course, poor Victor (the big brother) has a long road to haul. Rhiannon is still planning her wedding to Alex, who apparently has been playing Harry Potter with her at recess (he's Harry, she's Ron's younger sister, I think). Of course, Alex's best friend (who is playing Ron in this little game) still seems to have a crush on her as well. Then, there is the new boy at school my husband was telling me about that seems to have designs on her as well. If this is her love life at 8, God help me when she is 15. Better work on John's blood pressure, at this rate the top of his head is gonna blow off.

Last night was run run run. Was late getting out of the office. Run to the bus. Bus was late. Run for supper. Kids made a mess with their dinner. Run to the bathroom. Late for Girl Scout meeting. Run for the car. Late getting out of the meeting. Run for the car. Need to pick up pretty paper for the Christmas Form Letter. Run to Office Max. They're out. Run to Target. They're out. Run to Kinko's. Thank Gold they're not out. Run home. Put kids to bed. Collapse on couch and watch ER. Rouse myself enough after the news to drag my sorry backside into bed. Needless to say, I'm not running much today.

Tonight is my office's Christmas party. We have having a 7 course meal at a culinary institute. John has already looked at the menu and decided he doesn't like half of it. Unless he decides to be a little more flexible, I guess we will be making a run to McDonald's on the way home.

There may not be any more posts this week. There is the party tonight. Guest from out of town tomorrow. Shopping on Sunday. As exhausting as it sounds on paper, I am sure it will be a good time. Hope ya'll have a great weekend.

Saturday, December 15, 2001

Sunday, December 16, 2001

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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