Friday, October 27, 2006

Fund raisers suck

Barely two months into the new school year, our family has already been socked with no less than seven fund raisers. Yes, seven.

We've had bulbs (flower, not light), pizza, cookie dough, pretzels and candy, wrapping paper, coupon books, and what can only be described as a catalog of junk. For one of the fund raisers, my child's school graciously gave me the option of coughing up a flat fee, rather than sending my child slogging through the neighborhood to sell stuff. You better believe I jumped on that, because I still bear the scars of rejection from my own experiences with fund raisers.

I remember coming home from school or scouts with a crisp, mimeographed order sheet with neat little boxes lined up beneath names of the products, rows and columns of boxes for product descriptions and quantities and totals. I'd dream of filling them to the very bottom, and having my teacher fall into wild paroxyms over my amazing sales skills.

Unfortunately, my neighbors were cheap. Or maybe they just didn't like me. But when it started to get dark, I would head for home with my now-mangled order sheet containing maybe a half-dozen names, and very small amounts listed in the TOTAL boxes, knowing there would be no Top Seller Award for me. That privilege always fell to the kid whose father was a supervisor at the plant, and somehow "persuaded" each of the hundred employees working for him to order at least one thing.

Talk about an inferiority complex.

It was a harsh lesson; one I've carried with me for more than a quarter century, now. So you'd better believe I paid the flat fee. I figure it's way cheaper than the therapy fees my kids would have to pay in the future.

posted by Donna Birdsell at 12:12 PM 0 comments

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Puppy love

Okay, the squirrels didn't get me. But we did get a new puppy, and while he's cute as the dickens, he's worse than a baby.
(Disclaimer: I *know* my dog is not a baby. I don't wish to suggest that my plight comes anywhere near the pain and suffering of a new mother. But there are comparisons that beg to be drawn.)
This furry little baby considers our entire house his diaper. He already has teeth--lots of sharp little ones, which he uses on our hands and feet, and our antique furniture and carpets, with gleeful enthusiasm. And in the three-and-a-half days we've had him, he's steamed through the sweet infant period, and is now a bizarre amalgam of willful toddler and randy adolescent, and has begun to hump everything. My kids' swingset is getting more action than I am.
What? You say this cute puppy-time will go fast? That I'll look back on it fondly? I know you're right (I hope).
And in a few years when people who had an actual baby on Thursday will still be wiping noses and trying to get Sesame Street music out of their heads, my "baby" will be hitting middle age.
I shudder to think what his mid-life crisis will be like.

posted by Donna Birdsell at 8:11 PM 0 comments

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

As the Squirrel Turns

I live amongst crazy squirrels. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds, I don't know. I haven't tagged them.
I have no idea what makes them crazy. Perhaps it's the gasoline fumes from the nearby highway, or the pesticide from my neighbors' lawns (our lawn is blissfully, naturally weedy), or the questionable water supply in these parts. In any case, they are insane.
For example, my lawn chairs, which I will admit were purchased at Home Depot for about twelve bucks apiece--lovely forest green faux-Adirondack chairs--are slowly being consumed. They look like swiss cheese. Every morning there's a bigger pile of plastic shavings under the chair, and a new hole in one of the slats of "wood."
And the outdoor planters I usually use for my mums have completely disappeared. I don't know if the evil beasts ate them, or if they stole them for some nefarious purpose. Maybe they're throwing them off the turnpike overpass.
I'll be honest. The squirrels scare me.
They have no fear. I often find them hanging out in the garage, or stripping green blueberries off of our small blueberry bushes. They seem to mock, like the soup Nazi, "No blueberries for you!"
In the morning when I go out to get the paper, there are always seven or eight congregated on my front doorstep. What are they doing there? Are they planning to leave a burning bag of doggie doo? Are they plotting to overthrow the Republican party? Are they peeing on my welcome mat? Sometimes the doorbell rings, and... there's nobody there!
Last night, while I was deep into an episode of Weeds, I heard scratching above my head. They were trying to get in.
They were trying to get in, I tell you!
If my blogging suddenly stops, you'll know why...

posted by Donna Birdsell at 7:50 PM 1 comments

Monday, October 09, 2006

I Heart the '80s

I love the '80s. Obvious, by my new release Suburban Secrets, in which four high school girlfriends get together and reminisce about the good ol' days.

My husband, who is slightly older than I am, doesn't get it. He thinks the music was bad, the clothes were bad, the hair was bad. He's right, of course, but that's all part of the charm of the Me Decade.

Remember those omnipresent gargantuan shoulder pads? Having been born with generous shoulderage already, I routinely looked like an NFL linebacker in photos. And how about those huge belts? We could all be ready at a moment's notice to move a piano, or lift some really heavy weights.

How about knickers? Gauchos? Parachute pants? Suspenders? (Mine were rainbow striped, and had all the pins and buttons that Mork from Ork wore. Gawd, I loved those things!)

My favorite outfit, however, was a pair of Sassoon jeans and a plaid blouse with a granny collar, which I wore beneath a faux-sheepskin vest. Yes, a FAUX-SHEEPSKIN VEST! Hot. Literally.

What was your favorite '80s fashion statement? Email me a picture of you in 80s garb, and I'll send you a few goodies, and post the picture on my site.

posted by Donna Birdsell at 9:53 AM 2 comments