WWSD - What Would Stimey Do?

Has everyone been over to see Stimey's inspirational chronicle of her quest to rid her house of unwanted items, The Junk Pyramid? It's like porn for organizational freaks. I used to be an organizational freak, now I fear I'm just a freak. I have lovely, labeled fabric cubes for all the kids' toys but sometimes, I'm paralized by my own anal-retentiveness. Wherein, I don't have the [inclination] time do do it right, so I don't do it at all. And the clutter grows...

Well, since The New Girl turned me on to Stimey's truly awesome blog, whenever I'm trying to clean up and run across say, a McDonalds toy, I ask myself, "what would Stimey do?" Inevitably, the answer is pitch it, donate it, or recycle it. And so I've been ridding our little Cabina Contenta item by item of unwanted/unloved/unused or just plain, unknown crap. One piece at a time.

Saturday, we had a quiet at home day, which was a nice change of pace from the parade of preschool birthday parties that seem to fill every weekend (this is not a slam; RC's is the end of April). Anyway, Andy was down in the basement with the boys building a fort so I got to do this. This is a before shot of (one of) our kitchen junk drawer(s).

In the process, I found belt clips for cell phones we no longer own, batteries of every shape, size, and voltage, a zillion little felt pads for the bottom of furniture, a useless DVD cleaning kit, tons of fasteners of all sizes and descriptions, and enough birthday candles to celebrate clear through my retirement.

Oh, and I also have this from my Nativity Set (given to us by my Auntie Marie at our wedding shower).
Each year, I try to find the little cut out in the styrofoam where poor Gloria belongs and each year, she ends up back here. And here she stays for at least another year.

At the end of the cleaning, I arrived here. Sorry about the poor light but obviously, the Junk Drawer is by the window. Take my word for it; it's a work of art.


Then, just for good measure, and because the fort-raising was still in progress in the basement, I took a swipe at the wraps and [weapons cache] sharp stuff drawer. This picture gives me vertigo.

As an added bonus, while Andy and the boys were playing around down in the basement, he straightened as well.

Ahhh. Music to a organizational freak's eyes...

Don't Stop the (Birth Story) Carnival

Sarcastic Mom sponsored a Birth Story Carnival, asking everyone to post their stories of how she became a mother. The carnival was scheduled for March 24th but...

Sunday, November 17th, one month and one day before my due date, Andy, my BIL, and I were watching the Patriots play the Raiders on Sunday Night Football while I consumed my weight in guacamole and chips, feeling HRH doing aerobics in my abdomen. I went to bed somewhere around the 3rd quarter and the Braxton-Hicks continued.

Around 1:00 am, I went to the bathroom and upon returning to our room, commented to my unconscious husband that something was up (where "up" = mucus plug) and climbed back into bed. Maybe another half hour passed and the contractions continued and got stronger. I leaned over to Andy and, touching him lightly on the shoulder, whispered, "Honey, I think I'm in labor."

In no less than three seconds, Andy is out of the bed, lights on, and has gone from boxers and a t-shirt to jeans and a sweatshirt. And he's accusing me questioning me about what's going on while I am thumbing through the 'false labor' section of What to Expect When You're Expecting and learning nothing. I call my OB's office and get a call back from the on-call physician, who asks me in his German accent what my previous labors had been like (Dude? Previous labors? Didn't you read the first sentence? This is how I became a mother.)

When the contractions were around 3 minutes apart, we decide that we'd rather go to the hospital and have professionals laugh at us for crying wolf. But not before Andy packs a bag for me - containing six face cloths(?) and two pairs of his socks (I did end up using the socks). Thanks, babe.

On the surreal, 20-minute ride to the hospital, it occurs to us that we may indeed become parents that night and perhaps we needed to decide on a name (we knew it was a boy). Between contractions, we arrived at HRH.

We arrived at the hospital around 3:00 am and parked in the fire lane (I still have the parking ticket as a souvenir). We arrive in the ER and find a nurse to check us in. She explains we need to go to Labor and Delivery and of course, we know where that is. Uh, no. The tour part of our prenatal class was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Did I mention I was a month early? So we get directions and head down to a locked door and press the intercom. A woman answers and I (feeling like Dorothy at the door to the Emerald City) say "Um, my name is Christine Manic and I think I'm having a baby?"

Thank God, we were now in the hands of more competent and knowledgeable people. I was ushered into a very nice room, given the once over and it was determined that I was indeed in labor. Cause these things were really starting to hurt.

0.25 seconds later, I asked for drugs.

Remember the guac from earlier? Yeah, so did I. Proud, bonding moments passed between myself and my husband (who had heretofore never even seen me pee) and the toilet as I adjusted to labor. Eventually, I was in bed and given a Nubain IV, which allowed me to sleep between contractions (mmm....sleep....contraction! owwwwww!....sleep...) and then my boyfriend the anesthesiologist arrived to place a red hot poker needle into my spine with that great, "move-and-you're-paralyzed" warning. I was. not. impressed. with the Epidural.

More time (weeks, maybe months) elapsed and I opened my eyes to find my team and my husband watching The Today Show. I spun my head 360 degrees and demanded to know why Katie Couric was on TV. They switched off the television and got down to business; it was TIME TO PUSH.

Of course being a month early, my doctor was away so the on-call OB, Dr. Mengele arrived. I suck at pushing. I told him the epidural wasn't working. He did not care. And told me more meds would slow progress. I think he studied medicine straight out of the bad parts of the Bible where women must endure the pain of childbirth to atone for Eve's sins. To this day, I hate him.

After about two hours of "he's just around the bend" (Bend? What freakin' bend? What do you mean my body is shaped like a J?), my nurse finally turned on the tough love and demanded that I get at least two to three good pushes out of each contraction. Andy hears this and decides to try this approach with me as well - once.

He then wisely returned to holding my hand and shoveling ice chips into my waiting mouth. Finally, the baby was crowning. Using that same drill sergeant voice that had worked so well on me, the nurse instructed Andy to take a look. He left my side and peered down, returning seconds later, white as a sheet. He later told me his only thought was "that's one big vagina." He stayed up by my head throughout the rest.

At 10:26 am, after nearly four hours of pushing, I finally PUSHED just the right way and was rewarded with my beautiful 5 pound (head) and 9 ounce (body) baby boy.

It wasn't until they went to push the pitocin through my IV that they realized that the IV had come out and I wasn't getting the drugs. Andy fessed up that he'd been inadvertently stepping on the IV tubing throughout the night. My own OB also later told me that I'd reacted poorly to the epidural and he'd watch for that next time.

What I remember most of the next hours and days was the first time I was alone with HRH. I looked at him and knew him; he looked familiar - not in a 'he looks like his dad' kind of way but more of an 'I know you.'

And I was a mom.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

My friend JCK over at Motherscribe (check out her sassy new look) has tagged me for the six word memoir meme.

Though JCK describes it not, Holly at June Cleaver Nirvana, JCK's tagger, describes the task thusly: Sum up my life in six words. No more, no less. The loophole is you can write as many of these six word sentences as you want.

Brown Eyed Girl; Bleary Eyed Mom

No Freudian Slip Here; I Fall

One Size Does Not Fit All

Counting My Blessings, Every Single Day

Some Nice Girls Do Finish First

Don't Put That In Your Mouth

Young Women Want What I Have

Don't Call It Paranoia; It's Intuition

One Brain Cell at a Time

May I See the Dessert Menu?

Do Not Try This at Home

Survived my 20s to be Happy.

Keep Me Sane; Make Me Crazy

Warning: this exercise can be addictive. You think in six word sentences. (See what I did just there?)

I'm tagging Jennifer at Thursday Drive because I can't wait to see her words everyday.

My buddy, Denise at real. life. ramblings. because I heard Hey There Delilah on the radio and thought of her (cause I first heard it on her site).

And Phoenix because we tag each other.

Random Act of Kindness

Taking a moment to acknowledge that there are some nice people in the world.

Yesterday in the greater Boston area was like standing on the top of Mt. Everest (I would suppose). The wind was blowing around 20-ish and gusting up to 40-50 miles per hour. It was around 40 degrees but with the wind chill, it felt like it was in the teens.

In the middle of all this, I decide I've got to go to Target and finish a little Easter Bunny shopping. So off I go with RC in tow.

I'm pushing the cart with our bags underneath and RC standing precariously in the basket section. As we're exiting the store, one of those huge gusts of wind blows by and nearly pulls the shopping cart out of my hands. It also takes the bag with the Easter baskets and a couple of candies, spilling the contents into the parking lot. I can't let go of the cart because RC will blow away and I can't grab my stuff. Out of nowhere, a very nice lady yells as she runs by me "you get him, I'll get that!" and proceeds to grab my errant purchases on their way to Starbucks.

It was a relatively little thing but it helped me out quite a bit.

Happy Easter.

Manic Mommy's Greatest Misses

I have nothing to say. Truly. I've got stuff going on in my life but nothing that would either grab or hold your interest or make you smile, let alone laugh.

Sometimes, when I have an idea for a post, I'll start writing it with the idea of getting back to it at a later time. See? Just then? I made myself laugh. Get back to it! Hah! I'll also take pictures that may or may not make into a post.

Behold, the detritus of my mind and hard drive:

1. Most of a How To post concerning securing an uncooperative two-year-old into a car seat. I can only assume it's unfinished because I have yet to master this skill in a reasonable amount of time.

2. An ode to my next car.

3. My friend, Joe's startling resemblence to Kevin Youklis:





























4. A post on what Halloween costumes say about you and/or your child. Costumes actually found online included:
- Robert E. Lee
- Temper Tantrum
- Doodlebops
- 'Big Daddy' pimp-type costume (with my own caption of Low Expectations)


5. The importance of preparedness when spending 10 hours tailgating outside a Jimmy Buffett concert.

6. Toy Time Out. A (now missing) picture of the top of my cabinet, where toys end up when they are used as weapons. A waystation to the trash.(This one is way lame but I needed to make 10 - and yes, there were even lamer ones.)

7. A Christmas Song review featuring scores for Christmasy-ness on the "Claus-o-meter." Example: Merry Christmas Darling by Karen Carpenter rated an 8.

8. Apparently, I was making soup.














9. A lament of RC's continued pattern of destructive and reckless behavior (why do I think I'll still be writing about this 10 years from now?)

10. A list of top 10 high school/teen years songs. Heavy emphasis on Duran Duran, Adam Ant, and Journey.

You Can Call Me Al

Dear Mr. Gore,

Please excuse Christine from environmental global good citizenship today as she was cleaning the bathroom.

During this exercise (in futility), she utilized no green cleaning products. Resulting, in the senseless deaths of untold good bacteria and weakening the immune systems of not only her household but also everyone they will ever come in contact with. Furthermore, we believe the mustard gas created by the mingling of these chemicals has caused an actual hole in the Ozone Layer, the size of a juice box . Said hole is currently positioned directly above our house, as viewed by Google Earth.

Additionally, Christine used no less than 3/4 of a roll of 0% post-consumer recycled, white, paper towels, placing them into a plastic trashbag for pick up by a carbon monoxide-emitting waste transport vehicle (garbage truck). These, and numerous other potentially recyclable materials will then be shipped to an unknown landfill, where they will begin the slow process of decomposition, which will last well into the 22nd century.

Lastly, she ran water in both the tub and sink (sometimes simultaneously) and flushed the toilet approximately 40 times.

Sincerely,

Christine's Remaining Brain Cells (not wiped out above-mentioned mustard gas incident)


ps She also uses plastic applicator tampons.

Technique

Actual conversation at our house:

Andy: Hey, did you know that RC knows how to lock the bathroom door?

MM: No...when did he figure that out?

Andy: He was twisting the lock with the door open while we were in there tonight.

MM: You know it's just a matter of time.

Andy: I want you to remember, when it's time to break down the door, the stairs are right behind you.

MM: Uh-huh...

Andy: So make sure you don't try to kick it down (demonstrates Kirk kick move). You'll end up at the bottom of the stairs. Instead, use your shoulder (demonstrates COPS move).

MM: Thanks for the tip.

It really is only a matter of time...

Movie Meme

This meme has been floating around the blogisphere for a little while. I took up the gauntlet thrown down by Jenn over at Juggling Life. I don't know if she coined this particular phrasing but the use of the word behold makes me smile.

Behold, the rules:
- Pick fifteen of your favorite movies.
- Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
- Post them on your blog for everyone to guess.
- Fill in the film title once it's guessed.

This part is for the reader
- No Googling or using IMDB search functions.
- Leave your answer(s) in the comments.

And away, we go:


Movie 1:
- Will you have me, lady?
- No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days. Your grace is too costly to wear everyday. But I beseech your Grace to pardon me; for I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
- Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
- No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born...
Much Ado About Nothing (Andy and Manic Little Sister)

Movie 2:
- How long was it we had, honey?
- I didn't count the days.
- Well, I did. Every one of 'em. Mostly I remember the last one. The wild finish. A guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out.
Casablanca (Karen at The More, the Messier)

Movie 3:
- Y'know, this was supposed to be my weekend off, but noooo. You got me out here draggin' your heavy ass through the burnin' desert with your dreadlocks stickin' out the back of my parachute. You gotta come down here with an attitude, actin' all big and bad... and what the hell is that smell? I could've been at a barbecue! But I ain't mad.
Independence Day (Andy, Manic Little Sister, and Denise at real. life. ramblings.)

Movie 4:
- That's it? Some faceless guy rips off all your clothes, and THAT'S the sex fantasy you've been having since you were twelve?
- Well sometimes I vary it a little.
- Which part?
- What I'm wearing.
When Harry Met Sally (Jen at Monkey Planet)

Movie 5:
- It's out of control, and it's coming your way. You got about fifteen minutes. Now, they wanna try somethin'. They wanna blow those water tanks two floors above you. They think it might kill the fire.
- How're they gonna get the explosives up here?
- Oh, they'll find some dumb son of a bitch to bring it up.
The Towering Inferno (yeah, ~Denise! from real. life. ramblings. got the last one! Well played!)


Movie 6:
- What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering. For weeks, Marianne, I've had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hope. I have endured her exultations again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.
Sense and Sensibility (Jen at Monkey Planet)

Movie 7:
- You'd better tell the Captain we've got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital.
- A hospital? What is it?
- It's a big building with patients, but that's not important right now.
Airplane (Jenn at Juggling Life)

Movie 8:
- What are you talking about? How'd you figure that?
- I can add.
- Jack, they've got half the Ph.D.'s on the planet working on it.
- Houston says we're right on the money.
- And what if they had made a mistake, all right? And there was no way to reverse it, you think they would tell us? There's no reason for them to tell us!
- What do you mean they're not going to tell us? That's bullshit!
- All right, there's a thousand things that have to happen in order. We are on number eight. You're talking about number six hundred and ninety-two.
Apollo 13 (Jenn at Juggling Life)

Movie 9:
- Hold your ground, hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!
Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Auntie Jen - good second effort. Honorable Mention to JCK, our Motherscribe who identified her boyfriend, The Viggo)

Movie 10:
- Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father prepare to die.
The Princess Bride (Jenn at Juggling Life)

Movie 11:
- Meanwhile, I struggled for exactly the right BB gun hint. It had to be firm, but subtle.
- Flick says he saw some grizzly bears near Pulaski's candy store!
- They looked at me as if I had lobsters crawling out of my ears.
A Christmas Story (Jenn at Juggling Life)

Movie 12:
- Fellows, let's be reasonable, huh? This is not the time or the place to perform some kind of a half-assed autopsy on a fish... And I'm not going to stand here and see that thing cut open and see that little Kintner boy spill out all over the dock.
Jaws (Jenn at Juggling Life)

Movie 13:
- You're a thief and a liar.
- I only lied about being a thief, I don't do that anymore.
- Steal?
- Lie.
- I'm with someone who doesn't have to make that kind of distinction.
Ocean's 11 (Kristi)

Movie 14:
- We have pictures of you so-called mooners. And just because the pictures aren't of your faces doesn't mean we can't identify you. At this very moment those pictures are on their way to Washington where the FBI has experts in this type of identification. If you turn yourselves in now, you may escape a Federal charge.
Grease (Manic Little Sister)

Movie 15:
- There I was, standing there in the church, and for the first time in my whole life I realised I totally and utterly loved one person. And it wasn't the person next to me in the veil. It's the person standing opposite me now... in the rain.
- Is it still raining? I hadn't noticed.
Four Weddings and a Funeral (Jen at Monkey Planet)

Like Jenn, I won't tag anyone but consider playing. The research alone is so much fun you'll want to go re-watch all your movies.


Only two more to go! Andy guessed them but didn't post a comment so they're still fair game. And my little sister was wrong and boy is she going to be pissed.

Existential Crisis Averted

(or at least postponed)

I've been home now for one year and five months, give or take a few days. Since before we even had kids, Andy and I talked about getting to this point as "the ideal." As in, "ideally, you'll be working and I'll be home with the kids."

The reality is far from ideal. I remember a friend who works as an Autism advocate saying she loved her job so much she'd do it for free. I've never felt like that about any job. I was good at my job, liked doing it well enough, liked the people there, problem-solving, and all that stuff. I had jobs but never a vocation.

At home, I've been looking to find that missing piece. I hate housework, although I like a clean house. I like playing and doing projects with the kids but I like sitting and reading a book as well. I like to eat but I don't like to cook. I bristle at the idea of others defining me by these actions. Maybe this stay-at-home-mom thing isn't for me. And then I actually had an epiphany; it doesn't matter.

I'll never find myself washing my floors. I'll never be fulfilled because all the toys are neatly stacked and organized. The satisfaction must come from the big picture - without and within.

There are some SAHMs (God bless 'em) who do find fulfillment in these tasks. If I'm truthful, I find their worlds to be somewhat small. There are some working mothers who can only be fulfilled by working outside the home. I understand these women a little more; to raise happy, contented children, it is best that you, yourself are somewhat happy and content. I'm not even going to touch upon the money aspect because for a great many mothers there simply is no option.

So I sit here with just enough rope to hang myself. And I look at the big picture.

I am facilitating the ideal for my boys. I raise them. Sure, some days, it's going to Target and folding clothes. But I just got home from playgroup with RC. And 99% of the time, it's me picking HRH up from school. Almost every day it's not pouring or below zero, we're out in the playground at school. I know his friends' parents and they know me. When the boys are sick, there's none of that old "are-you-going-to-take-a-day-or-am-I?" panic. I'm here. I'm able to schedule doctor's and dentist's appointments, playdates, gymnastics, tee-ball, and birthday parties. There is strong continuity in the boys' life.

Maybe I'll never find my vocation. But I like my job well enough to do it for free. I'm facilitating the ideal for my family. And that fulfills me.

A Love Story in Four Pictures

From an email sent by my mother. I wish I could give credit where credit is due.

Love the wife-beater.

Apparently, He's Not a Fan of Daylight Saving Time

Here's a Riddle for you:

Question: What time is it when your clock looks like this?

Answer: Time for a new clock.

Knock Knock.

Who's There?

It's RC ripping the hands off my clock.


Editor's Note: This is my 100th post. I've been thinking about it and trying to come up with something memorable/special. Actually, I think this one reflects so much more.

He's Got Your Back

Yesterday was our second actual warm-ish, sunny day in months, when the kids were able to play outside after school. It's hard to say no after this interminable winter. So RC is happily digging up rocks in the sand and HRH is engaged in The Pushing Game with his classmate, Timmy, in the school playground.

The Pushing Game (for those of you who are female and/or only have daughters) involves running full bore across the grass and slamming into your friend with sufficient force to knock him down. Apparently, it's a blast. So after seven or eight times of Timmy's mother and me admonishing them to slow down and be careful, we simply gave up. Boys truly will be boys and besides, the grass is like a sponge from all the melting snow and rain.

While we're chatting, we take note a particularly brutal (but clean) hit that lands HRH on the ground with his elbow under him in an unnatural way. We head over to survey the damage. HRH is stoic and doesn't cry but RC witnesses this interchange from his vantage point in the sand. He runs over and with a rock (a stone actually, about half the size of a brick) and launches it, connecting with Timmy's shoulder. "Don't you knock over my big brother," he yells!

Thankfully, both HRH and Timmy were fine and Timmy's mom understands the nature of little boys. No harm, no foul.

Not surprisingly, Andy regaled his entire office with this tale, with all of the men and most of the women congratulating RC on his loyalty and protective insticts. Tonight's dinnertime discussion centered around clean hits and no weaponry.

A hard concept for an an almost three year old. And for a mommy.

Clipped

This post is cut and pasted (with permission) directly from an email I received from my cousin, a teacher, last evening. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Hi everyone!

This is both funny and disturbing at the same time, but I wanted to share. If you are weirded out about personal girly things, involving a friend or cousin as the case may be, stop reading now, and go about your business. But if the intrigue of the matter overshadows that, (Christine?) read away.

So I'm in work today and it is one of those crazy days. My assistant was out and there was no substitute, so my boss was with me. I am in my dramatic play area with the kids, and I'm kneeling down tying an apron on one of my students, since we are doing a restaurant theme.

Now picture this, I am completely on my knees, and somehow a clipboard (for taking food orders you know!) gets placed on it's side and somehow makes its way between my legs. I then decide to sit backwards, so as to put my butt on the back of my calves. (OK, this is where it gets gross...)

Now I can't manage to be accurate for anything else, but somehow my girly parts made direct and hard contact with the edge of the clipboard, causing significant pain. Then, 2 seconds later, I realize that blood is gushing down my legs. So now I bolt out of the classroom to the bathroom to clean up, to realize that it is not stopping!

So in what became a total comedy, I run to my desk to grab pads, (thankfully I keep a stash of them), one of my supervisors takes me in the bathroom to check out my injury. I later found out that she didn't realize the exact location of the injury, thinking it was just on my groin - I didn't get to show her thankfully.

Now mind you, I don't have the car, it is in [city 15 miles away] with [husband], and now I have to call my gyno to tell her that I have a vaginal injury due to sitting on a clipboard. So my friend drives me to [husband's work] to get the car, I drive to my mother's to get clothes to change into (yup, had to wear her undies too - turned them inside out, and was still padded) and head off to the doctor.

At the doctor's office, I was a bit of a celebrity because they were practically taking bets as to how the injury actually happened. The top of the list was that the metal clip on the top of the clipboard clipped me. Once they found out what happened, they decided that a metal clip may have been better. So the nurse practitioner comes in to examine me and I believe her exact words were "OK, let me see what we have - OH GOD!" Not a very promising thing to hear when you are laying in stirrups on a table.

So they get my regular doctor to check me out and she determines that what I did to myself was the equivalent of giving birth, (to a clipboard!!!) kind of like a do-it-yourself home episiotomy. She then debates about giving me stitches, but decides that the pain involved in that might be worse.

So now, I am bruised, swollen, and have to use a squirt bottle when I pee. And to top it all off, no sex until I am completely healed. People at work think that [husband] is going to sue for pain and suffering. But the best part of all of this is that I have to fill out an accident report at work. Now what do I write on that...

So thumbs up to any of you who have given birth vaginally. The pain/discomfort involved in a c-section is nothing compared to how I currently feel! Hope none of you is too weirded out by this and that your days went better than mine. Well, off to put a bag of frozen peas down my pants.


I...have nothing to add.

iPod Meme

Phoenix over at Phoenix Says Stuff did this meme way back on January 13th and I thought it was so cool that I finally remembered a month and a half later to post my own. BTW, P? As a personal favor, could you please post your labels so I don't need to just keep hitting "older post" to find this thing?

Phoenix also reported on the style of her style iPod so I figured I should as well. It's a Mini and it's green, which is my favorite color, and Andy bought it for me when I was trying running 2 1/2 years ago. I think I ran with it twice. I hate running. I like yoga.

This is the iPod Meme. In the interest of full disclsure, I should mention that my much more technically savvy brother loaded my iPod for me (from my own collection of course) with a heavy Jimmy Buffett influence. Given the law of averages, JB was bound to show up quite a bit.

Anyway, the rules are simple: Hit shuffle on your iPod then answer each question by hitting next.

Q: What does next year have in store for you.
A: Halleluja, I Love Her So by Ray Charles

Q: What does your love life look like next year?

A: A Love Song from a Different Point of View (more commonly referred to as Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw) by Jimmy Buffett (I DID NOT cheat!)

Q: What do you say when life gets hard?

A: Burn that Bridge by Jimmy Buffett

Q: Song that reminds you of good times?

A: Boogie on Reggae Woman by Stevie Wonder

Q: What do you think when you get up in the morning?

A: Lonesome Day by Bruce Springsteen

Q: What song will you dance to at your wedding?

A: Aint No Sunshine by Eva Cassidy (Actually, we danced to You Belong to Me by Patsy Cline)

Q: Song that reminds you of your first kiss?

A: Natives are Restless by Jimmy Buffett

Q: Your favorite saying?

A: Milk and Honey Days by Tim Gearan

Q: Favorite place?

A: Last Mango in Paris by Jimmy Buffett

Q: Most Missed Memory?

A: Chewin' Gum by Ella Fitzgerald

Q: What song describes your best friend?

A: I Wish by Stevie Wonder

Q: What song describes your ex?

A: It's All Understood by Jack Johnson

Q: Where would you go on a first date?

A: I'll be Home for Christmas by Jimmy Buffett

Q: Drug of choice?

A: It's Still Rock and Roll to Me by Billy Joel

Q: What song describes yourself?

A: Taxman by The Beatles

Q: What is the thing you like doing most?

A: Here We Go Again by Ray Charles

Q: The song that best describes the president?

A: Rock and Roll Music by The Beatles (If I were going to cheat, it would have been here)

Q: Where will you be in 10 years?

A: Cry by Ray Charles (that's not good)

Q: Your love life right now?

A: Paper Tiger by Beck

Q: What is your state of mind like at the moment?

A: Frozen Man by James Taylor

Q: How will you die?

A: The News by Jack Johnson

HRH's Latest Master Works

Clearly, a giraffe. Possibly wearing Mickey Mouse ears. Definitely happy.

Two summers ago on the Cape, Andy bought a little inflatable raft and took HRH out on the river behind our rented house. Notice he's got blue eyes (and oars for hands).