At first I thought it might be some crazy, screwed-up rock band Hurley threw together in memory of his best bud, Charlie.
Seriously though, here are my guesses for which of our favorite Island survivors make up the Oceanic Six:
Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sawyer....umm, hmmm....
Oh, damned if I know!
But I am so happy Lost is back. My only gripe is with my husband, who is an obsessive flipper, and insists on flipping to NESN to check the score of the Bruins game during Lost commercials. The three minute intervals are spent with me, hissing, "Back. Back." It finally ended this evening with Rich relinquishing control of the remote and suffering through that stupid Verizon commercial - the one where the guy and girl are texting love notes to each other - oh, about 7 times.
31 January 2008
29 January 2008
Hip Hop Addendum
A couple of weeks ago, I humiliatingly revealed the costume I would be forced to wear during a hip hop (yes - I said hip hop) recital I am reluctantly participating in this summer.
I am pleased to report that I learned last night that the following changes would be instituted. Over the red "Dance!" leotard, we will be wearing cropped black hoodies - old school, I love it. And second, we will be trading the candy cane tights for black, BAGGY!, cargo pants. Nice.
That part is a relief. What isn't, is that at last night's class, I was miserably lost, having missed the previous session. I basically stood at the back of the room laughing and getting pissed and threatening to quit. Honestly, I don't think anyone much cared.
I am pleased to report that I learned last night that the following changes would be instituted. Over the red "Dance!" leotard, we will be wearing cropped black hoodies - old school, I love it. And second, we will be trading the candy cane tights for black, BAGGY!, cargo pants. Nice.
That part is a relief. What isn't, is that at last night's class, I was miserably lost, having missed the previous session. I basically stood at the back of the room laughing and getting pissed and threatening to quit. Honestly, I don't think anyone much cared.
27 January 2008
Braedan gets Red, Stanley and Guido
Watch as a little boy obsessed with Disney/Pixar's Cars movie receives gifts in the mail from Grammy.
23 January 2008
Feeding the Cars habit
Since he had a playdate last fall with an equally Matchbox-crazed toddler, Braedan has been obsessed with the Cars from the Disney/Pixar movie of the same name. See, prior to that my son didn't watch television, but when he saw how much his friend coveted those movie character vehicles with eyes, he immediately wanted them. And of course, I gave in. The whole thing started out with Lightning McQueen.
Since then it has been Cars nonstop. And he hadn't even seen the movie still. This Christmas, after Braedan sat comatose in front of the television at the gym day care each morning in the weeks leading to the holiday watching Cars, we finally broke down and bought it too. And along the way, he has acquired about 35 of the movie character cars. (A lesson for parents - Lightning McQueen is nearly the same as Bugface McQueen, Dirt Track McQueen, Cactus Patch McQueen, Tongue McQueen, Crusin' McQueen, Radiator Springs McQueen, etc, etc.)
Ever since Christmas, he has been talking about the two cars he didn't get - Red the Fire Truck and Guido - and how he plans to ask Santa for them. In true Grammy fashion, my mom, not for the first time, sent Braedan one of his beloved wishes in the mail yesterday. You can imagine the excitement it caused.
Braedan goes to bed talking about Cars, wakes up in the wee hours of the morning, stumbles to the living room to play with his Cars and can barely function if he isn't holding one of them in his hand at all times.
Since then it has been Cars nonstop. And he hadn't even seen the movie still. This Christmas, after Braedan sat comatose in front of the television at the gym day care each morning in the weeks leading to the holiday watching Cars, we finally broke down and bought it too. And along the way, he has acquired about 35 of the movie character cars. (A lesson for parents - Lightning McQueen is nearly the same as Bugface McQueen, Dirt Track McQueen, Cactus Patch McQueen, Tongue McQueen, Crusin' McQueen, Radiator Springs McQueen, etc, etc.)
Ever since Christmas, he has been talking about the two cars he didn't get - Red the Fire Truck and Guido - and how he plans to ask Santa for them. In true Grammy fashion, my mom, not for the first time, sent Braedan one of his beloved wishes in the mail yesterday. You can imagine the excitement it caused.
Braedan goes to bed talking about Cars, wakes up in the wee hours of the morning, stumbles to the living room to play with his Cars and can barely function if he isn't holding one of them in his hand at all times.
18 January 2008
I never thought it would come to this
Does this look like an outfit that a 30-something stay-at-home-mom would wear? Ok. Well, any self-respecting, 30-something stay-at-home mom?
As readers of Singuloso may know, a couple of months ago I, along with a couple of friends, decided to partake in a hip-hop dance class at a local studio, DESPITE the fact that there would be a recital at the end of the class.
The class was everything I thought it would be - stomping around to the likes of Kanye West in baggy sweatpants and tee-shirts, a suburban dose of 'street.' Now I will be made to look like a deranged, dancing candy-striper. (Yes, the tight-fitting bodice, in shiny, glittery, silver lettering, indeed reads DANCE.) What's worse is that I am not the slim and fit person I was in college. Doubly worse? During our routine - which by the way will not be done to a hip-hop diddy, but an N'Sync Christmas song (the theme is dancing through the holidays) - a group of 7 year old tumblers will join us on stage - WEARING THE SAME COSTUME!
The possibility of quitting just before the recital still exists for me. And each time I look at that costume, rumpled up in a plastic bag in my closet, that possibility becomes increasingly real. But (and at this point it's a big but(t), literally and figuratively) should I decide to join in this circus, I will NOT be posting the recital date here on Singuloso.
As readers of Singuloso may know, a couple of months ago I, along with a couple of friends, decided to partake in a hip-hop dance class at a local studio, DESPITE the fact that there would be a recital at the end of the class.
The class was everything I thought it would be - stomping around to the likes of Kanye West in baggy sweatpants and tee-shirts, a suburban dose of 'street.' Now I will be made to look like a deranged, dancing candy-striper. (Yes, the tight-fitting bodice, in shiny, glittery, silver lettering, indeed reads DANCE.) What's worse is that I am not the slim and fit person I was in college. Doubly worse? During our routine - which by the way will not be done to a hip-hop diddy, but an N'Sync Christmas song (the theme is dancing through the holidays) - a group of 7 year old tumblers will join us on stage - WEARING THE SAME COSTUME!
The possibility of quitting just before the recital still exists for me. And each time I look at that costume, rumpled up in a plastic bag in my closet, that possibility becomes increasingly real. But (and at this point it's a big but(t), literally and figuratively) should I decide to join in this circus, I will NOT be posting the recital date here on Singuloso.
05 January 2008
Apres Holiday
Most everyone I know is glad the holidays are over. I, on the other hand, suffer a mild to moderate depression once all the festivities have finally come to an end.
I admit it. I am one of those "Christmas people." I love decorating the tree. Sitting by the fire listening to Christmas music. Watching Christmas Vacation over and over until the lines between my holidays and the Griswold's are blurred beyond recognition.
Over the last couple of days, I have been periodically (and sadly) removing Christmas decorations from the rooms in my home. On New Year's night, still nursing a bit of a hangover, I took all the ornaments off the tree, leaving it naked with nothing but it's twinkling white lights to cover its fading needles. The next morning, my son got up from bed, went into the living room, and came running back as if someone had just taken off with his shiny new squad of Pixar Cars. "Where are all the
ornaments?" he asked. "It's time for us to put the tree outside," I told him. "But why?" he pleaded. "Christmas is over," I said bitterly.
But for four days the tree stood there in our living room, naked and twinkling, hanging on. It's star shining like a beacon of hope. On day three, I noticed one lone ornament hanging from a low branch - a sign of solidarity, no doubt, put up by my son.
Tonight marked the complete removal of our beloved Tannenbaum. The removal on this particular day has nothing to do with the Epiphany but rather the fact that our tree stopped drinking water well before Christmas and there was a rather well-defined circle of pine needles circumventing our tree skirt.
Our son, eager to help with this obviously ceremonious task, told us in no uncertain terms that we would be getting a new tree to replace this "old" one. I didn't have the heart to tell him that a new tree would not arrive for another 335 days. Our collective disappointment would have been too much to bear.
The silver lining to all this Christmas tree removal business though is that our small living room feels unusually large without that all important symbol of the holiday season taking up half our space. A couple of minutes after the tree was tossed out into the icy snow, I was already talking up a few new pieces of furniture and conjuring mental blueprints for our "new" room. I'm feeling better already. And after all, Christmas is only a mere 354 days away now.
Damn. But it's a leap year, isn't it?
I admit it. I am one of those "Christmas people." I love decorating the tree. Sitting by the fire listening to Christmas music. Watching Christmas Vacation over and over until the lines between my holidays and the Griswold's are blurred beyond recognition.
Over the last couple of days, I have been periodically (and sadly) removing Christmas decorations from the rooms in my home. On New Year's night, still nursing a bit of a hangover, I took all the ornaments off the tree, leaving it naked with nothing but it's twinkling white lights to cover its fading needles. The next morning, my son got up from bed, went into the living room, and came running back as if someone had just taken off with his shiny new squad of Pixar Cars. "Where are all the
ornaments?" he asked. "It's time for us to put the tree outside," I told him. "But why?" he pleaded. "Christmas is over," I said bitterly.
But for four days the tree stood there in our living room, naked and twinkling, hanging on. It's star shining like a beacon of hope. On day three, I noticed one lone ornament hanging from a low branch - a sign of solidarity, no doubt, put up by my son.
Tonight marked the complete removal of our beloved Tannenbaum. The removal on this particular day has nothing to do with the Epiphany but rather the fact that our tree stopped drinking water well before Christmas and there was a rather well-defined circle of pine needles circumventing our tree skirt.
Our son, eager to help with this obviously ceremonious task, told us in no uncertain terms that we would be getting a new tree to replace this "old" one. I didn't have the heart to tell him that a new tree would not arrive for another 335 days. Our collective disappointment would have been too much to bear.The silver lining to all this Christmas tree removal business though is that our small living room feels unusually large without that all important symbol of the holiday season taking up half our space. A couple of minutes after the tree was tossed out into the icy snow, I was already talking up a few new pieces of furniture and conjuring mental blueprints for our "new" room. I'm feeling better already. And after all, Christmas is only a mere 354 days away now.
Damn. But it's a leap year, isn't it?
02 January 2008
The Holidays in Pictures
Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. Ours was filled with much laughter, fun, food and spirit, some of which can be seen here.
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
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