tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83867414238367794222012-01-14T08:37:14.573-05:00I Don't Know What I Don't Know...The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.comBlogger2111100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-13297671296001897842012-01-13T16:05:00.000-05:002012-01-13T16:05:39.928-05:00

It has finally snowed. The trees look pretty. Now if it can begin the melting process, life will be good. I hate winter. ...I guess I don't need to sugarcoat it like that, after all we're probably all adults. If winter were a person, I would hire Casino-style gangsters to surround it and reduce it to bloody wreckage using blunt weapons. No need to even drag it out to the desert first. Just

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-78529974888912401842011-12-27T09:28:00.000-05:002011-12-27T09:28:15.206-05:00

Now that we have achieved a safe rear view distance from the mayhem of the Christmas season, lovely and magical though it was, I can begin thinking clearly again. Due to the arduous demands of overspending online and wrapping mass-produced items in paper with friendly/adorable reindeer printed on it, trivial things like thinking clearly and eating leafy green vegetables are set aside between

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-17375186752796380572011-11-30T20:13:00.000-05:002011-11-30T20:13:07.585-05:00

Last weekend, my Groom excitedly escorted me to his thirty year high school reunion. Here is where I pause, so as to recover from the multiple mind-blowing facts packed into that declarative sentence. Anyway, we don't get out much these days. So preparing for this momentous evening entailed many wardrobe changes, hair adjustments, makeup applications, and checking of the profile in the mirror

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-44525318907667094112011-11-07T18:01:00.003-05:002011-11-07T19:24:06.173-05:00

Eighth grader is taxing the limits of my Motherosity, let me tell you. Taxing it like a gainfully employed middle class American. Like cigarettes in New York City. If this kid pushes down any harder on my buttons today, I might burst into a live reenactment of Willy Wonka's elevator. Motherosity is the word I use to describe the otherwise indescribable package of skills and characteristics

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-60178055714049372032011-10-24T07:32:00.005-04:002011-10-24T08:43:52.153-04:00

It seems incredibly unfair that it's practically the end of October again. Wasn't it just blazing hot and sticky outside? Weren't we just cooking burgers and dogs on the grill for lunch every day as if it were a dietary requirement?I just finished reading this really terrible novel, on the cover of which it was proclaimed to be a "killer beach read", and I distinctly remember buying it for

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-79506639946229129952011-06-08T05:33:00.004-04:002011-06-08T06:59:20.403-04:00

Oh, Blogosphere. Do you still exist? Allow me to catch you up on a few outstanding matters. After .8 years of living in our "new" home together, two things have transpired. First, the last of the contractors has finally gone home. All of the home improvements that we have elected, and can currently afford, to do have been done. No more buzzing saws, drills, dust, making way for

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-45775768799725879602011-03-26T16:48:00.002-04:002011-03-26T17:52:19.041-04:00

Fourteen days remaining until the big 4-0. I have managed to reduce myself by six of the eight pounds I am gunning for. Okay, five. It WAS six, but then there was the Chinese Food For Dinner Debacle last night...merely the logical follow-up to the buffalo chicken mac and cheese I had eaten for lunch. Which I then topped off with a cocktail, failing to use lower calorie juice as the mixer.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-37359023022851704162011-03-10T12:40:00.003-05:002011-03-10T13:40:52.801-05:00

What a fantastic week I have been having! Simply beyond my wildest dreams. Really, the wonderfulness of each day has just compounded the cumulative joy coursing through my veins. Clearly, I am winning.On Sunday morning, Future Husband and I managed to carve out a full two hours together. Seeing as I have barely laid eyes on him since that miraculous accomplishment, I remember those hours with

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-24667382439536931092011-03-02T20:18:00.004-05:002011-03-02T20:58:10.547-05:00

This morning I made a regretful decision. For three months, I have adamantly refused to have anything at all to do with a scale; yet, at 6 a.m. today, for reasons unexplainable, I decided to prove how smart I am by finally stepping aboard.Oh, man. I am a big dummy.I think Charlie Sheen must be partially to blame for this misstep. Watching his flagrant dismissal of reality - and clear descent

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-21746443613652095222011-02-21T09:18:00.006-05:002011-02-22T10:38:02.038-05:00

Fifth Grader has been pestering me for a dog since the dawn of time. I blame this on dogs, for acting all frolicky and cute when they belong to other people. Not to disparage dogs without cause, I'm just saying this has not been my experience when they reside with me.I have precisely two personal dog experiences to draw upon. The first was a Shepherd Collie mix that "belonged" to my little sister

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-38887921933599919992011-01-30T14:50:00.003-05:002011-01-30T15:09:57.551-05:00

A week ago yesterday, I was in New York City with the Tornadoes. It was Day Two of a three day trip which I had arranged months earlier as their "big" Christmas gift, and which began a week ago Friday with an excruciatingly slow bus ride in the middle of a blizzard.Aside from the prolonged commute, Day One played out pretty much exactly as I had been rehearsing it in my head for two months:

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-54598137047801905832011-01-12T08:29:00.005-05:002011-01-12T10:11:53.901-05:00

Yesterday was not the best day.In typical misleading fashion, it started out exhibiting best day attributes. Exhibit A: A successful five a.m. two mile run outside in twelve degree weather, and I didn't even die. Exhibit B: All of the laundry is clean AND put away. Pretty good start, yes? Then we had to wake up Seventh Grader.Oh, Seventh Grader.It never stops puzzling me how my wonderfully sweet

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-71288230114654041812011-01-04T17:57:00.002-05:002011-01-04T19:19:18.075-05:00

Here we are again, at the start of a new year. No doubt the fitness centers are all overflowing with Resolutioners, and celery sticks are flying off the produce shelves at grocery stores nationwide. I don't think I've heard anyone utter a curse word within a ten mile radius over the past four days, and that is just truly disturbing, really. Thus, it pains me to confess that I am a card carrying

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-41093478637049476472010-11-17T12:06:00.002-05:002010-11-17T13:09:47.060-05:00

Fifth Grader and I are hanging around the house together today. Eating a little mac and cheese. Watching a little "Hook". Your standard "Mama, I don't feel so good" kind of day. Fortunately, Fifth Grader is not feeling so unwell that she is retching into a toilet or burning up with fever - just your run of the mill headache/tummyache combination, coupled with the fact that 11 of the 24

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-71881435999484221302010-10-28T09:31:00.007-04:002010-10-28T09:55:03.866-04:00

Dear Seventh Grader,You know that saying, "You're driving me crazy"? Seriously, I really think that you are. Driving me crazy. Look no further than this godforsaken twitch in my right eye. Did you see it just then? No? In fairness to you, I don't see how you could have noticed it, since I don't think you have actually looked me in the eye since your last birthday. But eye contact might be

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-36610941817047112882010-10-21T21:10:00.004-04:002010-10-21T21:52:24.651-04:00

Now that the boxes are unpacked (for the most part) and the contractor is gone (though, interestingly, not finished with the job) and we have befriended our new neighbors (befriended might be an overstatement. More like welcomed all of their children into our home while seeing pretty close to nothing of the parents), I've determined that it's time to take a look around this new town of ours.My

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-74538532836591635852010-10-15T16:00:00.005-04:002010-10-15T17:40:36.970-04:00

Now that Future Husband - and Seventh Grader and Fifth Grader - and I are cohabitating, I felt it enormously important to insist upon a regularly scheduled weekly "date night". Just me and Future Husband. Alone. Doing whatever. Initially, I had a whole bunch of creative ideas for what might constitute the "whatever" of these specially set aside two hours. But the effort of thinking up all those

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-49120219723627020432010-10-10T19:27:00.002-04:002010-10-10T20:16:38.393-04:00

I have just returned home from a lovely dinner at an old friend's house where we discussed, primarily, the ideal way to hack up a cow. Lots of fun.We didn't lead with cow-hacking, because that would have just been weird. This is a friend whom I have not seen face-to-face quite literally since high school graduation. And honestly, I don't exactly remember what time I may have spent with her on

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-44381942592368207862010-08-17T20:28:00.003-04:002010-08-17T21:00:43.984-04:00

Seventh Grader amuses me. She amuses me greatly. This evening, she is amusing me by making her way around the house in the manner of a 90-year-old woman. This is the direct result of being two days into gymnastics camp after three months of root beer and Teen Nick. But you know, her thumbs are in excellent shape from all that texting. Fifth Grader also amuses me. She is not amusing me so

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-21156926947397068752010-07-21T18:34:00.004-04:002010-07-21T19:44:13.444-04:00

I am so done with this house renovation. Seriously. We are approximately five weeks away from moving day. I am contemplating spending this remaining time in a state of perpetual drunkenness. But first I have to confirm a few things. Namely, will being drunk exempt me from having to look at a single other sample of tile? How about paint samples? If I promise to show up completely reeking of

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-2738128756227790132010-07-02T10:42:00.006-04:002010-07-02T11:34:43.398-04:00

I made a decision this year to scale back on the amount of summer camp to which I subjected the Tornadoes. And, subsequently, to which I subjected my wallet. So it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Last summer, as I was only a few months into the New Job, I pretty much drove them straight from the last day of school to a 10 week succession of adventure camps, acting camps, gymnastics

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-55779239494603725092010-06-23T19:01:00.003-04:002010-06-23T19:55:09.799-04:00

If memory serves, it was right around this time last year that Seventh Grader - then just a Sixth Grader in the making - began to change. Over time, she transformed from the familiar and loving child I had known, and accordingly groomed, into an unpredictably moody and friend-obsessed other being. Not yet boy-obsessed, simply friend-obsessed. Which, really, was bad enough. If I had just a few

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-78564337480545755962010-06-18T15:14:00.003-04:002010-06-18T15:49:25.918-04:00

I tend to read all kinds of strange things - really, any kind of printed material that is lying in close proximity. One time, many years ago, a stray magazine devoted to soap operas confronted me; next thing I knew, I was hip-deep in some article about how characters are done away with and later brought back under dubious explanation. I remember that the example was given of a prominent soap "

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-51054608716565762182010-01-18T19:41:00.002-05:002010-01-18T20:40:14.140-05:00

You know, life isn't fair. My kids told me. In fact, they tell me that one thing or another isn't fair, according to their calculations, on an average of twice a day. Today, for example, Fourth Grader concluded that it wasn't fair that she only got to snowboard for four hours. And then it wasn't fair that I expected her to read an entire chapter of her book before she could zone out watching

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-80964926894428474202010-01-09T11:14:00.002-05:002010-01-09T12:10:38.124-05:00

So it's official. We're moving. In seven months.I've held back on telling the story of how Boyfriend found a house he loved, brought me to see it so I could also discover that I loved it, and how we then moved forward, in a glacial series of steps, to eventually reach yesterday, when we scheduled the closing. Believe me, it was better for you that way. I also refrained from telling just about

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-42513570047502060202010-01-04T17:46:00.002-05:002010-01-04T18:39:36.612-05:00

This is a quote from an actual conversation that took place this past weekend between myself...and Fourth Grader. And? It was absolutely necessary.Fourth Grader has officially entered the land of double digits. She chose to mark the occasion of her first birthday to end in a zero by filling our house with similarly aged children and riddling them all about the furniture from sometime Saturday

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-25361333622074839652009-12-31T13:31:00.003-05:002009-12-31T14:00:31.669-05:00

I wasn't going to post anything today, as I run the risk of overcompensating, by posting three times in one week, for the month that I completely ignored the blogosphere altogether. But my windows are vibrating. And I am incredibly annoyed by the vibrating windows. So I share my annoyance. There is a crane in my neighbor's driveway across the street. Some monstrosity has been under

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-30266599526663034602009-12-30T10:33:00.003-05:002009-12-30T10:42:39.519-05:00

I decided to screw around with my blog template this morning. This is what I came up with. It's fetching, don't you think?I picked a new blogger template called "jellyfish", mostly because it wasn't called something more boring like "minima" or "rounders". "Jellyfish" is at least interesting-ish. But, okay, I don't love it. It seems very wide to me. And I can't figure out how to make the

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-57755225699905029862009-12-28T09:55:00.002-05:002009-12-28T10:27:06.159-05:00

Well, it's Monday now, and the beginning of the Tornadoes' week long break from school. They have multiplied, of course: presently, there are also two guest tornadoes on the premises. I hear them upstairs, beginning to stir. Any minute now they will be down here rooting through my kitchen in search of things to pour syrup on, sugar loading for the inevitable Dance Off that will surely

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-30497493084113407232009-12-26T11:24:00.002-05:002009-12-26T12:16:26.742-05:00

Christmas is over. That pretty much sums it up. Depending on your inflection, that brief sentence can be a sentiment of relief or one of melancholy. Either way, the fact remains the same. It's the day after Christmas.In all honesty, it was a challenging holiday season for me. Not in any kind of catastrophic way...and really, nothing of any special significance happened that would make this

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-17626595214434979152009-11-19T21:46:00.002-05:002009-11-19T22:47:25.540-05:00

Let's not leave anything to assumption: I am decidedly NOT participating in NaBloPoMo. And that should settle that guessing game once and for all.The list of daily and nightly and everywhere-in-between obligations, that I have been racing around to meet lately is just too long to detail. And probably not that interesting. And detailing them might come off as whiny or attention-seeking anyway,

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-3346620773942342882009-11-09T17:02:00.002-05:002009-11-09T17:45:21.724-05:00

Well here we are, back in the fated month of NaBloPoMo. Back where it all began. Two years ago this month, AficioNada was born - and if you don't recall, she was borne of spite: slightly impure, somewhat narcissistic spite, but, admittedly, spite nonetheless. Actually, wouldn't all forms of spite be narcissistic? I mean, otherwise, why bother? Anyway, two years have passed and I'm still here

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-4322759261492284312009-10-12T11:26:00.005-04:002009-10-12T12:31:25.960-04:00

There's a certain irony that occasionally pops up in the realities people create for themselves, or should I say in the pictures of themselves that they paint with very broad brushes. It's a bit of a stereotype, I suppose: the teacher with the high school dropout son or daughter, or the cop whose kids are always in trouble with the law. I had a doctor once who went to jail for stealing

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-61529011253963228692009-10-08T20:31:00.003-04:002009-10-08T20:52:45.534-04:00

Sixth Grader would be horrified if she knew that I was about to write this about her. But too bad. Because the thing is, Sixth Grader has been torturing me these last few weeks, and it is only right that I pay her back by making it public.Oh, I don't really think that way. Not always. But this time? If for no other reason than to maybe invite a little empathy and support, I am going to tell

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-33177834739574275472009-09-29T07:36:00.003-04:002009-09-29T07:53:00.083-04:00

I'm no genius. But once in a while, I know what I'm talking about. Take "room parent training" for instance. The "training session" was last night in the school library. Here's what I learned: room parents bake. That's the job I signed up for. Baking. Definitely less than ten words. Oh, but not just random baking. Room parents bake what they are told to bake. Cupcakes for Halloween.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-20174360871624821032009-09-23T05:59:00.003-04:002009-09-23T06:09:47.357-04:00

So congratulate me. I'm a room parent. Whatever that means.The "room parent coordinator" left me a message the other day that I have been "selected" to be Room Parent for Fourth Grader's class. I was really hoping for Sixth Grader's class, if only so I could have permission to show up in her classroom and bug her on occasion. But this will be fun, too.Except I really don't have any idea what

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-56903171129092414372009-09-17T18:08:00.003-04:002009-09-17T18:20:40.769-04:00

I am about to depart for my very first PTO meeting ever. Considering Sixth Grader is...in the sixth grade...well I just never had time before, okay? Gawd, get off my back...Speaking of Sixth Grader, I am happy to report that she is no longer "going out" with anyone. Even more happily, she did the dumping. So, let's see, the relationship began on Saturday night. Sixth Grader and her friend, A

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-58634625090186559022009-09-13T19:06:00.002-04:002009-09-13T19:47:12.504-04:00

Last September, I wrote a little post called "The Cheese Stands Alone." I'd link it for you, but apparently I do not know how to do that on an iMac. Why would it be any different than on a PC? Or perhaps I am really that much of a complete computer idiot that I cannot figure out how to do such a simple thing...in any case, "The Cheese..."was last year's Old Home Day post. This right here?

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-9417657343928104622009-09-11T21:13:00.002-04:002009-09-11T21:54:14.245-04:00

Because I. Am. Toast.The pilot week of back to school has finally, painfully, come to a close. If it weren't for the part of me that is pathetically - but hopefully not in an overwhelming, annoying way - narcissistic, I would not even be able to summon the energy to recap this week. Much of it is a blur at this point anyway. Then again, I am writing this from the far side of several glasses

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Yesterday was the second day of school, so naturally I needed to take Fourth Grader to see a doctor. It seems she made it all of ninety minutes on that first day before making her way to the nurse's office. She loves to go to the nurse's office. Her excuse, on this first journey, was that she had a cough. So the nurse gave her a cough drop and sent her back to class, refraining from calling

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-30328612944399710892009-09-02T18:48:00.003-04:002009-09-02T19:30:05.649-04:00

So my laptop is still in the shop, and I have no real inkling of when I am going to get it back. I really miss my laptop.Not that its absence has kept me away from the Internet. No. Much to the chagrin of Sixth Grader, I have spent the past few evenings basically hogging the brand spanking new iMac that I bought for the girls to share a few months ago. Admittedly, I have spent most of my

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-40195385235175600532009-08-31T17:19:00.002-04:002009-08-31T17:46:57.437-04:00

I've been thinking for a while now that I should dress up this here blog. You know, pick out a jazzy new layout -something snappy and cougarette-ish - that might wake things up around here and inspire me. In fact, I was pretty determined to accomplish this very task over the past few days. Since I was kicking around the house anyway, and spending a disproportionate amount of that time sitting

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-82748677544953600242009-08-29T11:23:00.004-04:002009-08-29T12:05:23.838-04:00

My mother is on her away to my house right now, and I have no idea why. It could entirely be a simple parental visit - which I hope it is - but those don't happen very often. Something else usually has to be stirring for her to make the trek out here to the woods on a Saturday morning. These woods, by the way, are already starting to close in on me. Summer has drawn to a wet, cold end, and

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-43990085214451365512009-08-26T07:30:00.004-04:002009-08-26T15:21:25.677-04:00

When I first started this blog, I had hoped to incorporate an occasional book review into the mix. I'm quite bookish, you know.I'm also quite sporadic with my attention to the blogosphere...but I didn't really have to spell that out for you, did I? I feel like I am forever - and I mean every single time I sit down to actually write something here, and to peruse other people's blogs - trying to

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-10263433684265339182009-08-24T11:32:00.003-04:002009-08-24T12:21:45.027-04:00

So we are down to the nubs of summer break - 1.5 weeks to go. As I have exhausted all known forms of available summer camp, just a wee bit short of the start of the school year, it looks like I'll be fielding the remainder of their time off personally while I attempt to "work from home"."Working from home" was conceptually an option with my former employer, but it was kind of a joke. It's

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-60654152424742426972009-08-10T20:40:00.002-04:002009-08-10T21:40:16.002-04:00

Yes, yes, I know. I've been back from Virginia for four days, and I'm just posting about it now. Actually? If I were to post about our trip to Virginia, it would read something like this:It was really. Really. Hot. We swam a lot.And slept late every day. The end. Here's a few more details: The drive, though long, was quite pleasant. Colonial Williamsburg is kind of a tourist trap. There

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-9873971418093687252009-07-31T21:20:00.002-04:002009-07-31T21:55:29.403-04:00

By virtue of some miracle, I have made it to Friday night. Some weeks it's a sketchier feat than others. And this week was a killer. But here I am, and the work week is behind me. Also drawn to a close is Third Grader's latest theatrical adventure - a student rendition of The Secret Garden, in which Third Grader played a groundskeeper, and also took a stab at a few duets. She informed me a

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-36938895160315868442009-07-29T18:17:00.002-04:002009-07-29T18:33:51.110-04:00

This is likely to be very short and...we'll just go with sweet, but probably more like "curt" or "rushed". It's Wednesday - a good half a week after the marathon Saturday of attending barbecues, the most significant of which was the ol' Hogfest across the street. I was pretty angsty about the Hogfest. I think I mentioned that the other day. It's been a bit of an uncomfortable situation for me

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-43570682205197716682009-07-25T10:48:00.002-04:002009-07-25T11:47:40.897-04:00

This is the weekend that my neighbors across the street hold their annual Hogfest blowout. The fact that it's once again time for this day of neighborly debauchery can only mean one thing: it is, in fact, summertime. Like many people, I have barely noticed the arrival of summer this year. Could be because it doesn't seem to want to stick around for more than two or three hours at a time, and

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-91928100654934144922009-07-18T12:36:00.002-04:002009-07-18T13:27:20.652-04:00

It's Saturday afternoon, positively gorgeous and sunny outside, and I am here blogging. There is something seriously wrong with me.If it weren't for the fact that I have not written anything here, yet again, in nearly two weeks, then I would SO be outside enjoying the weather. That's not entirely true. For one thing, I'm still in my jammies. My hair still resembles the shape of my pillow, and

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-84321786533531738082009-07-07T16:50:00.002-04:002009-07-07T17:44:08.230-04:00

Hello, blogosphere. Believe it or not, here I am. I'm having a hell of a time getting this blog back into action on a regular basis, but I've at least figured out the reason. The reason is that I am possibly the most boring human being on the planet. Seriously. I can prove it. Let's take a look at Exhibit A: The routine. My day-to-day life over the past few weeks has fallen into a fairly

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-58178503361194288052009-06-19T08:39:00.002-04:002009-06-19T09:11:45.694-04:00

I got this letter in the mail a few weeks ago informing me that I shouldn't use my oven anymore. Apparently, there have been seventy-two incidents of ovens just like mine catching on fire from overheating wires. I generally get around to opening my mail once dinner is cooking. ..so this letter made for a rather tense waiting game while the steak tips finished broiling. Of course, I could have

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-63783133893908421662009-06-13T13:13:00.003-04:002009-06-13T14:05:56.204-04:00

Since I last appeared in the blogosphere, that's pretty much the sum total of what has captured my attention. Whether I liked it or not.We'll start with softball. I might be in love with softball. Well, love's a bit strong a term...but compared to listening to the same floor routine music seventy-two consecutive times, when it is applicable to your own child's efforts exactly once, softball

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-56116624222927760512009-06-02T20:41:00.003-04:002009-06-02T22:03:16.216-04:00

So it's June now - the time of year when school winds down, wraps up, and then goes away for a few short months - and I am officially shoulder deep in the process of organizing the summer for the Tornadoes. Organizing the summer pretty much consists of signing them up for camp. Camp after camp after camp after camp. At this point, I have things pretty well lined up for them. I've left a few

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-76802695301771495832009-05-27T20:22:00.003-04:002009-05-28T06:25:16.199-04:00

We have just returned home from Fifth Grader's Springtime Musical Spectacular. And it did not disappoint.When I say that it did not disappoint, I don't mean that it was a night of awe-inspiring performances. What we had on our hands tonight was a riot of first- and second- year pupils of various musical instruments, with a mostly unvarying lack of control over said instruments. We had our

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-12736678034797586392009-05-25T19:55:00.002-04:002009-05-25T20:40:11.219-04:00

I'm going to write this post under the assumption that I have let far, far too much time pass since the last one, and that nobody at all is even bothering to check my blog's vital signs anymore, because why bother? Just to come up empty again? Just to discover that the disappointing void of information on the life and times of moi, Fifth Grader, and Third Grader just continues on into the

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-83652388029649613552009-04-27T18:37:00.002-04:002009-04-27T19:22:52.221-04:00

I don't know what it is right now, but the only day of the week that I seem to have the mental capacity to write is Mondays. Probably has something to do with my deep, internal struggle to balance my business career self, as it returns to the office, with my artistically longing self, which seems to be getting completely lost in the shuffle.Either that, or I'm getting enough sleep on the

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-12437888733179371362009-04-21T20:38:00.004-04:002009-04-22T07:46:09.765-04:00

You get a girl at the crossroads, my friends.I can't believe I put up that semi-whiny post about my birthday...and then, yet again, disappeared from blogland. It's been a hell of a week. A few weeks, really. And what I mean by that is, it's been a hell of a few weeks in my head and in my gut, if not necessarily from an external point of view. Between adjusting to the new workplace, grieving the

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-36566151241964942222009-04-08T20:24:00.005-04:002009-04-08T20:46:09.732-04:00

In the spirit of re-embracing my blog - and showing my appreciation that you still take the time to come by here to see if I'm still alive and posting - I want to thank Dingo for her most excellent office decorating tip. And also? A perfect birthday gift idea.One cabana boy, please.Oh, I'm just kidding. No cabana boy could possibly replace Boyfriend. Although I wouldn't hate being somewhere

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-42807339456873472242009-04-06T19:14:00.003-04:002009-04-06T19:27:08.264-04:00

So here's one really cool detail about my new job: I scored a corner office.Woo hoo!Truth be told, it doesn't mean a whole lot to me. I mean, whatever. An office is an office. But when Rocky and I were asked which vacant spaces we wished to occupy, he very generously offered me up to the corner. And I didn't exactly argue with him. I mean, come on, I'm not crazy! So this weekend, we - Rocky, my

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-69148133154946291332009-04-05T18:44:00.002-04:002009-04-05T19:37:23.762-04:00

I know that I have barked up the "Sorry I haven't posted much lately" tree once or twice in recent weeks...and yet here I am, creeping on up that trunk one more time. Can it still hold me, I wonder?I always have a good excuse, you know. Usually it has something to do with gymnastics, or a column deadline, or work-related mental exhaustion. Well this time? It's two out of three. But in a

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-24342272759540307792009-03-29T11:51:00.003-04:002009-03-29T12:42:26.667-04:00

I'm finally getting around to uploading all the pictures that Fifth Grader took of her sleepover party - what, two weeks ago? - and, apparently, it is going to take three hours.I suppose that's fine, seeing as it's Sunday. Normally the idea of anything taking THREE HOURS to complete would make me completely batty, but since I really don't have to do anything else besides wait, I will try to make

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-73706699551269079402009-03-23T18:54:00.002-04:002009-03-23T19:34:59.826-04:00

Remember all that happiness I mentioned on Friday? You know, I actually managed to hang on to that happiness pretty much right through the weekend. Strange but true. For once, in I don't know how many months, I managed to spend my weekend doing a little bit of all of the things that I enjoy. Drinks and laughter with friends on Friday night. A trip to Borders with the Tornadoes, and a nice run

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-62533034998516295332009-03-20T08:53:00.003-04:002009-03-20T09:00:52.333-04:00

I am feeling eerily happy today. To be honest, it's freaking me out a little. What do I have to be so happy about? Hmm. What am I happy about, what am I happy about...it's not a gimmick, seriously. I don't know why I feel like this. Here are some possibilities:It's Friday.The sun is shining. The snow is melting.There is a "sale pending" plaque on the sign next door.I bought some new clothes

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-67236080290032162532009-03-16T20:51:00.002-04:002009-03-16T20:59:30.682-04:00

Well, we survived the big party. I think. I might be talking in my sleep.Anyway, I'm sure you aren't surprised that, with a column deadline looming, I had to write about it. It's not half bad.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-83652892076365082472009-03-11T18:54:00.003-04:002009-03-11T19:31:21.926-04:00

I neglected to mention earlier on that Fifth Grader asked if she could have a sleepover birthday party this year. It's this Saturday. I attempted to limit the number of guests to half a dozen or so...but you see, Fifth Grader is a bit of a social butterfly. She has friends from several walks of life - yes, at the tender age of eleven, she has already racked up more than one walk of life - and she

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-6505585253561718242009-03-09T08:48:00.002-04:002009-03-09T10:04:12.152-04:00

It is Monday morning, it is snowing, and school has been cancelled. Again. These poor kids are going to be in year round school, whether they like it or not. We are easily up to the very end of June at this point. Summer promises to be a blink of the eye. So depressing.Well let's talk about something a little less depressing for a moment. Like the Shamrock Invitational. Yes, another

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-16301290719652954922009-03-02T20:11:00.001-05:002009-03-02T20:13:25.990-05:00

1. Work from home2. Catch up on your blog reading3. write a new column.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-53810335548948110502009-02-27T20:56:00.003-05:002009-02-27T22:18:53.596-05:00

Today is Fifth Grader's birthday. She is eleven years old. I'm a little weepy. We have just returned home from honoring the tradition of the birthday dinner - the birthday girl chose Olive Garden for her fete - with one too many breadsticks before dinner and a spectacular gob of chocolate-filled chocolate cake afterward. Hello, food coma. However, as I fell asleep while writing my last post

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-74516483812129053412009-02-25T21:32:00.003-05:002009-02-25T22:35:39.179-05:00

Hello. We're back. We have been on vacation, and have senselessly returned home.I expected that I would write a little bit while we were in California, perhaps provide a running commentary of our trip, but I have to confess that I pretty much completely checked out of my own daily life out there. I'm not going to apologize. There is a pretty hefty amount of stress in my life at the moment -

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-19905752115695971232009-02-19T20:31:00.003-05:002009-02-19T21:06:00.036-05:00

It's 8:30 p.m.-ish on Thursday, and while I wait for the Tornadoes to finish their baths, hairdrying and teeth brushing, I thought I'd say hi. Hi!I'm very disappointed in the recent lack of attention I have been paying to my blog. I'm even more disappointed in my recent lack of attention to other people's blogs. Reading your blogs has become part of my daily routine, and I have certainly felt

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-5841822172401866172009-02-16T20:49:00.003-05:002009-02-16T20:51:46.519-05:00

We are heading out to L.A. at the end of the week to visit Miss S. and family for a little vacation. Yay!Vacation is not really my strong point. I'm getting better at it, but it takes some doing for me to really relax. In fact, I wrote about it here.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-12977900414022476132009-02-13T07:16:00.003-05:002009-02-13T07:50:40.678-05:00

The Tornadoes got on the bus this morning, armed with a box each of those little valentine's day cards for their friends. Remember handing out valentine's day cards in school? Some years the teachers were really into it and had us all make these elaborate "mailboxes" to receive our fond wishes. Other years - when teacher woke up on the cynical side of the bed - we simply walked around the room

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-27479050698498155222009-02-09T19:35:00.003-05:002009-02-09T20:18:45.827-05:00

So I think I have figured out something really cool. Well, really cool for me - for you, maybe not such a big deal. Anyway, I seem to have hit upon the sweet spot of all the possible menial job assignments at these never ending gymnastics meets. And they call it scoring.Now, don't be silly and confuse scoring with judging. Scoring is simply arming oneself with a palm pilot that speaketh to

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-88233382514070601152009-02-04T07:19:00.003-05:002009-02-04T08:06:45.878-05:00

Third Grader lost a molar over the weekend. She concerns herself a great deal with making the right impression, so the tooth had to soak in a cup for two days before it was worthy of presentation to the Tooth Fairy. This ritual of hers causes me a mild amount of anxiety - so far, she has always made me aware of when the tooth finally passes inspection and can be placed in the tooth pillow which

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-78864515682019757022009-02-02T07:19:00.002-05:002009-02-03T07:30:41.749-05:00

New column is up. And it's short and sweet.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-43734172293483517032009-01-31T10:15:00.008-05:002009-01-31T18:44:30.724-05:00

So I have just returned from a whirlwind forty-eight hour trip to New York City. Got in late last night and, despite the fact that I arrived home exhausted and frozen to the bone, still woke up at 7 a.m. this morning. Damn this internal alarm clock, it refuses to let me sleep in.Let me just start by saying that I love New York City with all my heart. Except in January. In January I apparently

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-38468227910272767312009-01-26T19:48:00.002-05:002009-01-26T21:45:28.476-05:00

Can I just say? That I really do not enjoy being an adult. Oh sure, it has its perks, I suppose. For instance, I can drive. I can enjoy an adult beverage out in the open, without having to slide the vodka bottle back under the passenger seat in D's beat up old Subaru while she looked out for the cops. (Probably those two examples shouldn't have been mentioned consecutively, but you get my

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-75088974226338607932009-01-21T20:12:00.004-05:002009-01-23T12:14:19.661-05:00

Answer: Somewhere around two or three, the tossing and turning begins.Question: What is the hour at which I have woken up every day this week?Answer: At least once a day. Question: What is the number of times I have been on facebook this week?Answer: Um...twice, I think...Question: What is the number of times I have been on my treadmill this week?Answer: A giant time suck, served with a

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-24459358680811879562009-01-18T15:52:00.004-05:002009-01-18T16:47:02.534-05:00

Yesterday I managed to pack seventy miles onto my odometer, all within a ten mile radius of my house. My tour went like this: Home to grocery store to Y to home to Y to double drop-offs of Tornadoes. Do you see anywhere in there the slightest hint of "this is my day off and so I am relaxing"? No.Not much could be done about the grocery shopping. It's a necessary evil. Since admitting a few

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-20256592360172222492009-01-14T18:57:00.002-05:002009-01-14T19:58:41.860-05:00

As promised, I have returned to enlighten you as to why I am such a stressball this week. Actually...knowing me, I probably won't tell you all that much. I might allude. I might suggest. But it would be highly out of character for me to put it all out there in plain view. I mean, let's be honest here: that picture over there on the left? Not really me.Like I said, there are many details.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-70384476834748974612009-01-13T04:07:00.004-05:002009-01-13T04:57:17.094-05:00

There's nothing finer to do around here, on a frigid Monday night in January, than haul yourself over to the school gym for a Holiday Concert. Wouldn't you agree?Well, whether or not you agree, that's what we did last night. Among the myriad of annoyances dropped at our doorstep in December - courtesy of mammoth ice storm and multiple blizzards - was the cancellation of Fifth Grader's Winter

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-16197482661021684152009-01-04T13:29:00.002-05:002009-01-04T14:41:36.230-05:00

Here we are, four days into 2009. And I am bored. Bored bored bored. So. Bored.I don't know about you, but being bored makes me angry. Mostly because being bored is really just cryptic talk for being lonely. And then, once I start making that translation, I find that I am tiptoeing into feeling just a wee bit sorry for myself, which really pisses me off. I mean, really. Why go there?

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-1181187569911268572008-12-31T09:49:00.003-05:002008-12-31T10:22:23.086-05:00

Well. I seem to have blown it in December. It's not my fault, really. Not when you consider the major ice storm. The abbreviated holiday season, courtesy of the major ice storm. And oh yeah, there was Christmas. Well there you go, folks: a month's worth of posts summed up in four sentences. Enjoy!Actually, I tried to encapsulate the experience of the past few weeks in my new "Tween Us

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Thank you all for stepping up the comments last week. And no, I have not been off pouting in the corner about the chirping-cricket-like silence of my blog on any given day. Clearly I need to spend more time networking in the virtual world, or else become a whole lot more amusing...I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt and say the problem clearly begs the first solution. I mean, come on.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-20963537105509562352008-12-10T12:31:00.003-05:002008-12-10T13:16:49.580-05:00

There's a tradition in the Third Grade at the Tornadoes' school. It is the tradition of the Gingerbread Village. The Gingerbread Village is a confectionary scale model of our beloved town center. You know, the town center - the site of Old Home Day, the place for trick-or-treating. Every year around this time, the Third Graders head down to the town center to select and sketch their individual

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-5136933088453637812008-12-07T14:27:00.000-05:002008-12-07T14:28:15.059-05:00

What I mean is, it's a miracle this got written at all.And yet it did.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-7479172404028611512008-12-06T22:08:00.003-05:002008-12-06T22:49:59.839-05:00

We have now passed the halfway point of this ordeal - er, festival of fun - known as Snowflake Invitational and I, for one, am ready to get on with my life.I can't bear to talk about this meet in any coherent detail right now as we still have one day to go. Fifth Grader competed tonight and Third Grader reports at 8 a.m. tomorrow for her session. Somehow I ended up saying yes to Fifth Grader's

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-67553631263877350932008-12-03T08:55:00.004-05:002008-12-03T10:24:52.153-05:00

I thought I would take advantage of this moment of tranquility in my own life to say a few words about my neighbor.He's moving, you know. Tra la la.Other than that one time, I have refrained from discussing my neighbor. Even now, I hesitate. Why? Because although I have certainly never told anyone on my street about this blog, you just never know. And honestly, I don't want any trouble. I

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-77025583795184743162008-12-02T08:36:00.004-05:002008-12-02T09:18:16.502-05:00

You know, it really bums me out when everything goes right. I mean, what am I supposed to write about?Sure, I could tell you all about how spectacularly my long Thanksgiving weekend went. I could tell you about how my absolutely perfect Christmas tree - you know, this one - is already up and decorated. And how our brand new little outdoor snowmen - replacements for these guys, who didn't survive

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-84745775730492712122008-11-25T16:24:00.006-05:002008-11-25T17:20:04.186-05:00

So it's that time of year again...the time of year when you can demand good behavior out of your children with the mention of three simple words: "Santa is watching."Such powerful words. Their utterance saves me so much time and aggravation trying to teach lessons of right and wrong. They hold so much promise, and also fear. I mean, what kid in their right mind wants to tangle with Santa Claus?

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-59760594067109648352008-11-21T09:06:00.003-05:002008-11-21T09:27:25.230-05:00

If there were such thing as a Thanksgiving fairy, I would ask her for a new blog template. I would also ask for seven trillion more waking hours in the day so that I could actually get to my blog, write things, spend quality time assessing the myriad of available jazzy blog templates out there and selecting one with which to upgrade the visual appeal of this site. Alas, there is no Thanksgiving

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-84114950246903566412008-11-16T16:29:00.002-05:002008-11-16T16:34:31.975-05:00

I've spent the entirety of the last forty-eight hours immersed in gymnastics land - specifically, our first invitational of the season, the Turkey Tumble. We did fabulous work. Fifth Grader won two medals. Third Grader won two medals AND a 4th place all around trophy. So very proud of them.And I have somehow managed to assemble a column, which I now leave to your kind attention.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-1737156703678918212008-11-12T20:33:00.003-05:002008-11-12T21:41:17.094-05:00

Among the thousand tiny, unimportant details about myself that I have not previously shared in the blogosphere is this tidbit: parts of me are not real.I'm talking nails, people. Please. Waaay too frugal to revamp the big stuff. Not that the big stuff needs revamping, thank you very much - but I have long felt a conviction to keep as true to the original model as possible. That is, until I

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Last night I heard the most shocking statement. It wasn't the statement so much as who made the statement. It was me. And the statement was: "I wish I had a husband."Whoa. Context, please.It was just one of those days. One of those days where I threw myself into my work all day and wanted nothing more than to slip into a drama and activity-free night with the girls. A day where I spent my

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-48215202016758321592008-11-03T07:25:00.002-05:002008-11-03T07:28:05.719-05:00

I figured I spend so much time grousing about our never ending stream of guest tornadoes, I'd call it a column this week.Gotta do something with the pain.

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-46216088986952415702008-11-01T14:24:00.002-04:002008-11-01T15:10:38.878-04:00

I don't know about you, but I am so glad that Halloween is over. It seemed like a particularly dreadful prospect this year, what with it falling on a Friday and all - like many of you out there, I had visions of trouble minded teenagers, driving themselves from house to house, showing up on my doorstop and shaking their pillowcases at me, demanding candy at an hour far beyond the published trick

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-91194399843635382622008-10-28T07:25:00.003-04:002008-10-28T08:24:38.835-04:00

Here we are, forty-eight hours on the flip side of Sunday. Sunday that I spent watching Olympic athletes do crazy, uber-athletic things with their lithe bodies. I had hoped to deliver to you a cheeky synopsis of the experience - perhaps with honorary medals for various special moments - but I'm too distracted to be cheeky, so you're getting the straight up version.First of all, we took a bus. A

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-5734202243874938042008-10-25T19:16:00.004-04:002008-10-25T20:14:36.666-04:00

If anyone had tried to tell me twenty years ago that someday I would spend every waking hour of my life at the Y watching gymnastics, I would have doubled over laughing. I would probably have laughed so hard that I would have accidentally spilled my Michelob all over myself. And yet, that seems to be how things turned out.For instance, today. Today was Practice Meet day, the precursor to the

The story of Tress:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-60651306033817387462008-10-22T15:41:00.002-04:002008-10-22T16:09:11.370-04:00

Yesterday was all kinds of fun. First there was the early morning orthodontist appointment. Doctor Torture warned me last time we were there that this appointment might run a little longer. He had that glint in his eye when he said it, the one that wanted me to get the code. I got the code. So I prepped Fifth Grader with a little breakfast Tylenol. She emerged from the torture chamber with

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