In my never ending search for products that provide the results of exercise but don't require the effort of exercise I recently purchased the Wii Active.
We have the Wii Fit and it was Wii fun, but got kind of Wii old and Wii forgettable -- and frankly since you choose what exercises you want to do... You can call it a workout when all you've really done is sway from side to side on the board trying to get the marble in hole. In otherwords, if you were looking to slack, you can slack.
So the Wii Active came in on Friday, and it has a few nice features such as, the balance board isn't required and if you are not so concerned about what your *** looks like in running shorts, you are able to workout with a friend - at the same time.
I got going on Saturday doing the initial workout and am on a streak, having worked out yesterday too. And can I just tell you, my Wii heiny (which isn't that wii) is a Wii bit sore. My legs, the same. I'm highly considering a Wii Wheelchair right now. The work they have you do is a bit like circuit training, you don't do anything all that long, but long enough and you often come back to do it several times during your session. They have a band that goes around your thigh (I'm sure some legs better then others -- frankly the band could be a bit longer but that's another story), you put the numchuk in there and it can tell when you're doing leg movements (and when your not, it's very kind and will wait... until you do!) they also have a resistance band.
So I have to say if you too are on a quest to find exercise methods that don't require exercise efforts, Wii Active, not your choice. The thing seems to work. My darling husband was almost rendered beached this weekend while kayaking after a trial on the intermediate effort. If you're willing to sacrafice a little sweat, it could be just the thing you're looking for.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
To grandmother's house we go.. sure has changed since I was a kid!
When I was a young girl, to Grandmother’s house we go, was a very different adventure then the one we have today. So as we contemplate a ten-hour road trip to my folks house, I can’t help but think about those trips back then and how much things have changed.
My family is very large, five kids, me being next to the youngest. We had a car similar to that of the Griswald's complete with fake wood trim on the sides and a third row that faced backwards. Us kids always fought over who had to sit on the hump and you knew you had no pull if you were in the very back hump (my designated spot). We had no portable DVDs, iPods and we all were forced to listen to the AM radio, station of my parent’s choice (summer - baseball, winter - easy listening).
We did load up on books, car games such as license plate bingo and find-a-words. And without fail, every trip, my parents would pull out the “count the cow” game. Which looking back on it, they must have had quite a laugh that they were able to pull this one over on us because it is the most ridiculous, pointless game ever conceived. We would drive from Pittsburgh to West Virginia most trips and endured a number of rural roads though a lot of farmland. The one thing you can count on is a lot of cows.
The game was played with two teams, the Right side and Left. Being the designated “hump person” it hardly mattered which team I joined in on, as for many of the early years, I wasn’t even able to count. There were only a few rules, one point for every cow you can count on your side. See a white horse, get 500 points, pass a cemetery and lose all your points.
We would pass herds of cattle; too many to count as you’re speeding down a two-lane highway doing 70. It was the folks in the very back who were expected to pick up the count after the front facers had lost their field of vision. It was quite amazing that the back seat kids knew exactly which animal to pick up the count again, but they always came through for their team.
It seems we would play that game for hours, but it was probably only for ten – twenty minutes at a time. I imagine that it got interrupted by my constant carsickness, someone complaining about being touched by another or a “I gotta go pee!” proclamation from one of the car’s occupants. And still, I’m sure my parents still get a good chuckle over getting all their kids to play a game that had no point, no real winner and play like it was the last game for the pennant.
Now that I have a child of my own, I’ve found a new respect for how brave my parents were! Five kids, packed in a station wagon? No way would I have the courage to do that… not with out my iPod, satellite radio, DVDs, aqua doodle, computer with air card and… front facing seat!
My family is very large, five kids, me being next to the youngest. We had a car similar to that of the Griswald's complete with fake wood trim on the sides and a third row that faced backwards. Us kids always fought over who had to sit on the hump and you knew you had no pull if you were in the very back hump (my designated spot). We had no portable DVDs, iPods and we all were forced to listen to the AM radio, station of my parent’s choice (summer - baseball, winter - easy listening).
We did load up on books, car games such as license plate bingo and find-a-words. And without fail, every trip, my parents would pull out the “count the cow” game. Which looking back on it, they must have had quite a laugh that they were able to pull this one over on us because it is the most ridiculous, pointless game ever conceived. We would drive from Pittsburgh to West Virginia most trips and endured a number of rural roads though a lot of farmland. The one thing you can count on is a lot of cows.
The game was played with two teams, the Right side and Left. Being the designated “hump person” it hardly mattered which team I joined in on, as for many of the early years, I wasn’t even able to count. There were only a few rules, one point for every cow you can count on your side. See a white horse, get 500 points, pass a cemetery and lose all your points.
We would pass herds of cattle; too many to count as you’re speeding down a two-lane highway doing 70. It was the folks in the very back who were expected to pick up the count after the front facers had lost their field of vision. It was quite amazing that the back seat kids knew exactly which animal to pick up the count again, but they always came through for their team.
It seems we would play that game for hours, but it was probably only for ten – twenty minutes at a time. I imagine that it got interrupted by my constant carsickness, someone complaining about being touched by another or a “I gotta go pee!” proclamation from one of the car’s occupants. And still, I’m sure my parents still get a good chuckle over getting all their kids to play a game that had no point, no real winner and play like it was the last game for the pennant.
Now that I have a child of my own, I’ve found a new respect for how brave my parents were! Five kids, packed in a station wagon? No way would I have the courage to do that… not with out my iPod, satellite radio, DVDs, aqua doodle, computer with air card and… front facing seat!
Nadya, oh Nadya...
REALLY? All that talk to Ann Curry about how you're going to take care of the kids, how you're so mature and so capable, so up to the challenge... and today I find: http://www.thenadyasulemanfamily.com/
So Octomom, I'll make you this promise: You check yourself into a long term, in patient mental health facility, and I'll donate some cold hard green stuff into your gimmefund. Heck, I'll even use Paypal so that you don't have to wait for credit card to process.
For the good of yourself, your kids, your mother... run, don't walk. Hell, call them up, the men in white jackets will come and pick your delusional ass up!
I will give you snaps for finding 8 names that all end in ah. I'm sure that took you a few weeks.
So Octomom, I'll make you this promise: You check yourself into a long term, in patient mental health facility, and I'll donate some cold hard green stuff into your gimmefund. Heck, I'll even use Paypal so that you don't have to wait for credit card to process.
For the good of yourself, your kids, your mother... run, don't walk. Hell, call them up, the men in white jackets will come and pick your delusional ass up!
I will give you snaps for finding 8 names that all end in ah. I'm sure that took you a few weeks.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Psuedo-celebrities: my entertainment and some wisdom to a few in the limelight
Confession: I love pop culture, and especially now when seldom a week goes by when I’m not giddy about something stupid that ends up on our airwaves. Maybe I’m just older and have achieved a new level of cynicism, but seriously, some of the stuff people do is just beyond stupid, particularly those who are famous and those who want to be. The drive to be in the public’s eye has become such a force that it’s hard to imagine what people will do next.
Now, I’m not referring to MTV, music and fashion trends, in fact, with the exception of VH1’s Celebrity Rehab (now Sober House), I don’t even visit those channels (even Dr. Dru, I TiVo). I’m talking about how celebrity stupid is at an all time high, and folks willing to do anything to become celebrity has reached catastrophic levels. I take a sick pleasure in reading the drama of stars and those trying to become them. It boggles my mind and I find a certain peace with my own existence knowing that however fat, poor, and confused I am; there are people out there earning money for being self absorbed. And yeah, I’ll read about it every time! They don't live in my world, they are fabulously ridiculous and I won't say I love them, but I do love the entertainment they provide me!
Oh the joy I feel when I see Mariah and Nick wearing matching ski outfits, Pam Anderson showing off her camel toe in a bathing suit four sizes too small. Though perplexing, I enjoy seeing Adrianna and Kim dodge the paparazzi as though they were Hollywood royalty – and knowing that they probably called the press to alert them of their where-abouts. And you can argue about how these people deserve their privacy, but if you think about it, there are stars far more interesting then Paris or Brittney, with real careers of major accomplishment, that you seldom see in random photos coming out of the dry-cleaners. These people seek it out, and that’s why I find it so hilarious!
So it is with this in mind, I feel the need to have a little personal commentary on a few recent events.
First, Jessica Simpson, no, I don’t think that a size 8 is fat in the real world; frankly, a size 8 would be a personal victory for me. However, when your job, that you get paid butt-loads of money to do, is to be a hottie – then get on the flipping treadmill and stop with the Twinkies! And if that doesn’t seem to be with in your grasp, then at least hire a decent stylist to dress you in things that any respectable size 8 knows better then wearing in public. Sweetheart, high-wasited pants, not good on almost anyone. So dear Jessie, suck it up, stop buying the shoes, refrain from getting your hair colored every other day and call Nutri-System, it worked for Marie Osmond, it could work for you. Say what you will, but it’s not like she’s got some great voice, she gets paid for the way she looks, and that payday is going to end if she keeps expanding at this rate.
Second, Speidi, I really don’t know who you are or why you deserve to be on Yahoo!’s OMG four to five times a week, but go away. You both have a “almost anyone” look about you that isn't exactly special and what ever you’ve accomplished to be in the public eye is so mundane that it’s never even referred to. Any person who calls the media for a photo op at the dollar store is just sad, a couple that feels the need to do this… I shed a tear. Truth, I really don't follow the Speidi thing, But I do find it fascinating that these two fairly obscure random people have so much attention? When did Wonderbread become so fabulous?
Thirdly, and this probably requires it’s own dedicated post, Octo-mom. Please, for the sake of your children, your parents and all of us – run, don’t walk and check your very disturbed ass into a mental institution for a long in –patient stay. I’ve heard you speak; you’re confused on levels that only professionals can truly understand. You’re killing your mom, you live in a pig-sty, you’re the object of major public ridicule that I’m sure you justify by saying you’re misunderstood. You’re not qualified to give parenting advice; you don’t deserve the publicity you’re getting. My sincere hope is that the media will boycott you and stop feeding your sick desire to be the star of another large family reality show with a more advanced mathematical equation as the title (Jon and Kate plus eight minus Jon plus pissed of Grandmother plus six more with possibility of more eggs in a test tube in the future!). All the freebies and opportunities being provided this woman for running a personal puppy mill needs to stop! Give it to her poor mother, she deserves it and frankly, I'm afraid she's about to run - and then what will happen to those poor little babies!
Oh and by the way, please let me clarify something for you, Octomom, public assistance is the same as being on Welfare! And you’ve pissed me off that I have to pay for your delusions of grandeur. I’d be far more willing to pay for you to be locked up in a whacky ward for life – at least that way, I know that everyone, kids included, are cared for!
Now, I’m not referring to MTV, music and fashion trends, in fact, with the exception of VH1’s Celebrity Rehab (now Sober House), I don’t even visit those channels (even Dr. Dru, I TiVo). I’m talking about how celebrity stupid is at an all time high, and folks willing to do anything to become celebrity has reached catastrophic levels. I take a sick pleasure in reading the drama of stars and those trying to become them. It boggles my mind and I find a certain peace with my own existence knowing that however fat, poor, and confused I am; there are people out there earning money for being self absorbed. And yeah, I’ll read about it every time! They don't live in my world, they are fabulously ridiculous and I won't say I love them, but I do love the entertainment they provide me!
Oh the joy I feel when I see Mariah and Nick wearing matching ski outfits, Pam Anderson showing off her camel toe in a bathing suit four sizes too small. Though perplexing, I enjoy seeing Adrianna and Kim dodge the paparazzi as though they were Hollywood royalty – and knowing that they probably called the press to alert them of their where-abouts. And you can argue about how these people deserve their privacy, but if you think about it, there are stars far more interesting then Paris or Brittney, with real careers of major accomplishment, that you seldom see in random photos coming out of the dry-cleaners. These people seek it out, and that’s why I find it so hilarious!
So it is with this in mind, I feel the need to have a little personal commentary on a few recent events.
First, Jessica Simpson, no, I don’t think that a size 8 is fat in the real world; frankly, a size 8 would be a personal victory for me. However, when your job, that you get paid butt-loads of money to do, is to be a hottie – then get on the flipping treadmill and stop with the Twinkies! And if that doesn’t seem to be with in your grasp, then at least hire a decent stylist to dress you in things that any respectable size 8 knows better then wearing in public. Sweetheart, high-wasited pants, not good on almost anyone. So dear Jessie, suck it up, stop buying the shoes, refrain from getting your hair colored every other day and call Nutri-System, it worked for Marie Osmond, it could work for you. Say what you will, but it’s not like she’s got some great voice, she gets paid for the way she looks, and that payday is going to end if she keeps expanding at this rate.
Second, Speidi, I really don’t know who you are or why you deserve to be on Yahoo!’s OMG four to five times a week, but go away. You both have a “almost anyone” look about you that isn't exactly special and what ever you’ve accomplished to be in the public eye is so mundane that it’s never even referred to. Any person who calls the media for a photo op at the dollar store is just sad, a couple that feels the need to do this… I shed a tear. Truth, I really don't follow the Speidi thing, But I do find it fascinating that these two fairly obscure random people have so much attention? When did Wonderbread become so fabulous?
Thirdly, and this probably requires it’s own dedicated post, Octo-mom. Please, for the sake of your children, your parents and all of us – run, don’t walk and check your very disturbed ass into a mental institution for a long in –patient stay. I’ve heard you speak; you’re confused on levels that only professionals can truly understand. You’re killing your mom, you live in a pig-sty, you’re the object of major public ridicule that I’m sure you justify by saying you’re misunderstood. You’re not qualified to give parenting advice; you don’t deserve the publicity you’re getting. My sincere hope is that the media will boycott you and stop feeding your sick desire to be the star of another large family reality show with a more advanced mathematical equation as the title (Jon and Kate plus eight minus Jon plus pissed of Grandmother plus six more with possibility of more eggs in a test tube in the future!). All the freebies and opportunities being provided this woman for running a personal puppy mill needs to stop! Give it to her poor mother, she deserves it and frankly, I'm afraid she's about to run - and then what will happen to those poor little babies!
Oh and by the way, please let me clarify something for you, Octomom, public assistance is the same as being on Welfare! And you’ve pissed me off that I have to pay for your delusions of grandeur. I’d be far more willing to pay for you to be locked up in a whacky ward for life – at least that way, I know that everyone, kids included, are cared for!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Memo to Makers of Little Boy's Underpants
Dear Sir/Madam:
I am about to give you a bit of information that will make your product far more valuable so please take note - and if you'd like to send me a little something for this advice, please contact me below.
If you make underpants for little boys that have imagery on them - such as WALL-E, Buzz Lightyear, Handy Manny, Spiderman, etc. -- DO NOT put the big power image on the back. Yes, a three year old is much more excited to wear a pair of drawers that have his favorite characters on them, and the reason is because he wants to SEE the damn picture. When it's on the ass he can't do that! And as Super G told me this morning, "I don't want to sit on Spiderman, it's just not nice!"
So, my son goes into the world every day wearing his Character Panties BACKWARDS! yes, the pee pee flap is in the back and if you challenge him on this, he will tear your head off. I'm certain my son is not the only one who insists on facing the ridicul and discomfort of backwards briefs.
I'm happy to sport the cash to pay the licensing fees involved in purchasing items with characters on them, and if the power image was covering the jewels, not the crack, I'd be far more willing to fork over a few more dead presidents for them.
I am about to give you a bit of information that will make your product far more valuable so please take note - and if you'd like to send me a little something for this advice, please contact me below.
If you make underpants for little boys that have imagery on them - such as WALL-E, Buzz Lightyear, Handy Manny, Spiderman, etc. -- DO NOT put the big power image on the back. Yes, a three year old is much more excited to wear a pair of drawers that have his favorite characters on them, and the reason is because he wants to SEE the damn picture. When it's on the ass he can't do that! And as Super G told me this morning, "I don't want to sit on Spiderman, it's just not nice!"
So, my son goes into the world every day wearing his Character Panties BACKWARDS! yes, the pee pee flap is in the back and if you challenge him on this, he will tear your head off. I'm certain my son is not the only one who insists on facing the ridicul and discomfort of backwards briefs.
I'm happy to sport the cash to pay the licensing fees involved in purchasing items with characters on them, and if the power image was covering the jewels, not the crack, I'd be far more willing to fork over a few more dead presidents for them.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Ponder the future of media and advertising.
Being in the media world, I am particularly aware of the state of media, in fact, I'm inundated with it, and the picture isn't pretty.
As with most, media, my sites (iMoms.com - network of local mom websites -shameless plug) is dependent on advertising to exist. So, when media companies are going through huge layoffs, putting property up for sale, filing for bankruptcy, it's a little scary.
But as a consumer, I was just thinking... if advertisers are pulling back, what does that mean for us? More self promotion running in newspapers, magazines, websites -- seriously, how many subscription cards does a rag need? Or on TV? Since I doubt we're they will add a few more minutes of content on to our favorite shows, are we destined to see the same commercials over and over? Because if that's the case, I quit. I can only handle so many Geiko wolfmen ads and I'm already far past my quota.
If this is what's in store for us, then it's time to buy stock in TIVO, because I'll never watch live television again!
As with most, media, my sites (iMoms.com - network of local mom websites -shameless plug) is dependent on advertising to exist. So, when media companies are going through huge layoffs, putting property up for sale, filing for bankruptcy, it's a little scary.
But as a consumer, I was just thinking... if advertisers are pulling back, what does that mean for us? More self promotion running in newspapers, magazines, websites -- seriously, how many subscription cards does a rag need? Or on TV? Since I doubt we're they will add a few more minutes of content on to our favorite shows, are we destined to see the same commercials over and over? Because if that's the case, I quit. I can only handle so many Geiko wolfmen ads and I'm already far past my quota.
If this is what's in store for us, then it's time to buy stock in TIVO, because I'll never watch live television again!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
It's my life and I'll Santa where I want to!
Done, finished, OVER IT. Every year it's the same thing, the drama, the tears, the anger, the cursing and the exhaustion caused from holding on to my rules for all their worth. And every year I think we've come to an understanding, yet every year, the entire thing comes right back up. Only with more drama, more tears and more tantrums. Yes, tis the season to be jolly. Jolly my jelly ass.
So here's the players:
Husband: 37 Eldest son, one sister
MIL: 53some year old drama queen, spoiled princess, comes from whacked out home with psychopathic institutionalized mother who had a rotten childhood
FIL: 55+ year old quiet, uber geek, has Pavlovian response to wife's tirades, probably just wants to make her shut up - so he does what ever she rants
SIL: 30 spoiled princess, feels completely entitled, new mother, wife to second husband who is in for a big awakening
ME: 42, fourth daughter of five children, lives ten hours from my parents, 3 hours from in-laws, probably know as a bitch - definitely doesn't care, mother of 3 year old only child (who will stay that way) and wife to a husband who travels half the year. Also, run a new business unit for my company and really doesn't have time for any of this.
Here's the conflict:
ME: Family, quite large (last count 22), only gets together once a year, parents, in their mid-seventies, Christmas -- HUGE DEAL, decorations are even in the laundry room, family ten hours away, told in-laws, since they don't do much for Xmas, we'll be going to Florida every year until we can't any more. My parents, no hassles, no emotional manipulation, no obligation, no guilt and a lot of fun - particularly for son or any kid who believes in Santa. Oh, my family also has a place for us to stay, requires no hotel rooms or boarding of dog.
THEM: Gives head trips like "You love them best because you see them first" or "We're just a detour on the trip to-from Florida", got a new one this year "Second stop, second loved" (really, I did - have it in text on my phone if you require proof), you get the picture. By the way, we see them about 10 times a year.
HUSBAND: Just trying to keep it all together
This conflict arises this time every year. And every year, I think we are all in an understanding that we will always go to my families for Christmas and we will have a Christmas before/after with them. They don't do anything for Christmas anyhow. Shit, their tree and all decorations are taken down by 10:00 AM on Dec. 26. None of them can cook worth a darn and I don't care to see my sister in law's in-laws, because they're redneck, backwoods, self-absorbed high class trailer park inhabitants.
Every year, I explain, Christmas is the only time all the family is together, the only time that all 22 of us hook up. My parents are in their mid-70's, this won't continue many years further. Every year, I go through his mom's drama, every year I think we have reached an understanding... Every year it happens again.
And here is how it's posed to me... You love them more. Are you kidding me? Seriously, who says that kind of thing? A six year old? Apparently, a 53 year old mother in law in serious need of some psychotherapy.
Look, yes, call me unreasonable, tell me I'm being a baby and I may secretly agree - or at least understand. But here is the deal. Christmas at my family's house is magical, every room is decorated, my mom wins awards for her outside lights, the place is a madhouse. There are fights, there is screaming, there is drinking, there are little ones and bigger ones and sports on tv, there is big meals and great food and wine by the box. There is no guilt (all i would have to say is that we weren't going and my parents would completely understand) and no expectations, or hassles. My parents are just more then happy that we're all there. It is their one joy to have us all together and they know those days are becoming fewer and fewer. I want my son to know that Christmas, it's important to me.
His family, half the time they take off on Christmas, they barely have a tree and that's the extent of it. There is no room for us, so we have to stay down the road at an over priced hotel (which frankly does beat having to stay there, but inconvenient just the same). They will usually go out to eat because they sure can't cook and other then the drinking, that's the extent of the fa-la-la. I find it a complete let down, it's depressing and there is no joy in it. My husband doesn't enjoy himself, it usually is hit with a ton of guilt on everything else by his mom and my poor sister-in-law's new husband can't wait to escape.
And the biggest part is we've been through this, we have had this discussion, OK, lets call it what it is, this war every year. And just when I think we have all reached an understanding -- 11.5 months pass and we're are right back in our fox holes and ready to attack. And though I'm over it, I've dug my hole deep, and have no intention of retreating.
So here's the players:
Husband: 37 Eldest son, one sister
MIL: 53some year old drama queen, spoiled princess, comes from whacked out home with psychopathic institutionalized mother who had a rotten childhood
FIL: 55+ year old quiet, uber geek, has Pavlovian response to wife's tirades, probably just wants to make her shut up - so he does what ever she rants
SIL: 30 spoiled princess, feels completely entitled, new mother, wife to second husband who is in for a big awakening
ME: 42, fourth daughter of five children, lives ten hours from my parents, 3 hours from in-laws, probably know as a bitch - definitely doesn't care, mother of 3 year old only child (who will stay that way) and wife to a husband who travels half the year. Also, run a new business unit for my company and really doesn't have time for any of this.
Here's the conflict:
ME: Family, quite large (last count 22), only gets together once a year, parents, in their mid-seventies, Christmas -- HUGE DEAL, decorations are even in the laundry room, family ten hours away, told in-laws, since they don't do much for Xmas, we'll be going to Florida every year until we can't any more. My parents, no hassles, no emotional manipulation, no obligation, no guilt and a lot of fun - particularly for son or any kid who believes in Santa. Oh, my family also has a place for us to stay, requires no hotel rooms or boarding of dog.
THEM: Gives head trips like "You love them best because you see them first" or "We're just a detour on the trip to-from Florida", got a new one this year "Second stop, second loved" (really, I did - have it in text on my phone if you require proof), you get the picture. By the way, we see them about 10 times a year.
HUSBAND: Just trying to keep it all together
This conflict arises this time every year. And every year, I think we are all in an understanding that we will always go to my families for Christmas and we will have a Christmas before/after with them. They don't do anything for Christmas anyhow. Shit, their tree and all decorations are taken down by 10:00 AM on Dec. 26. None of them can cook worth a darn and I don't care to see my sister in law's in-laws, because they're redneck, backwoods, self-absorbed high class trailer park inhabitants.
Every year, I explain, Christmas is the only time all the family is together, the only time that all 22 of us hook up. My parents are in their mid-70's, this won't continue many years further. Every year, I go through his mom's drama, every year I think we have reached an understanding... Every year it happens again.
And here is how it's posed to me... You love them more. Are you kidding me? Seriously, who says that kind of thing? A six year old? Apparently, a 53 year old mother in law in serious need of some psychotherapy.
Look, yes, call me unreasonable, tell me I'm being a baby and I may secretly agree - or at least understand. But here is the deal. Christmas at my family's house is magical, every room is decorated, my mom wins awards for her outside lights, the place is a madhouse. There are fights, there is screaming, there is drinking, there are little ones and bigger ones and sports on tv, there is big meals and great food and wine by the box. There is no guilt (all i would have to say is that we weren't going and my parents would completely understand) and no expectations, or hassles. My parents are just more then happy that we're all there. It is their one joy to have us all together and they know those days are becoming fewer and fewer. I want my son to know that Christmas, it's important to me.
His family, half the time they take off on Christmas, they barely have a tree and that's the extent of it. There is no room for us, so we have to stay down the road at an over priced hotel (which frankly does beat having to stay there, but inconvenient just the same). They will usually go out to eat because they sure can't cook and other then the drinking, that's the extent of the fa-la-la. I find it a complete let down, it's depressing and there is no joy in it. My husband doesn't enjoy himself, it usually is hit with a ton of guilt on everything else by his mom and my poor sister-in-law's new husband can't wait to escape.
And the biggest part is we've been through this, we have had this discussion, OK, lets call it what it is, this war every year. And just when I think we have all reached an understanding -- 11.5 months pass and we're are right back in our fox holes and ready to attack. And though I'm over it, I've dug my hole deep, and have no intention of retreating.
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