TEETHING

Ok, I just had too many memories tied up with teeth after reading mrlady's son's story, I had to post. My son is 10 now and trying to pull two teeth out, so I am going to warn him that the tooth fairy won't come if they came out early. He feels that the tooth fairy is a scam and I told him that the tooth fairy will not visit if he doesn't believe either.

I was awful when I discovered the Tooth Fairy in first grade, and so were my friends. We loved the money and couldn't wait to lose our teeth. It was a beautiful time in our lives, even if we could only eat pureed foods. First of all, if our tooth came out in school, we got a cool necklace shaped like a tooth to put our tooth in and special treatment all day from the nurse in the form of ice pops to stop the bleeding.
After my friend Leslie lost her first tooth in school, most of the girls in my class spent entire recesses trying to dislodge each other's teeth. There were so many bloody grins that year that I am sure my teachers felt like they were at a vampire movie when we smiled as a group.
We tried every trick that Tom Sawyer did and more, thank god there was no internet back then, or we would have needed dentures.
After reading the comments on mrlady's post about teeth, I am no longer embarrassed by the silk drawstring bag that holds all my kids baby teeth and a few of the puppies too. (You know that the tooth fairy sent them back to me just so I could keep them after she was done turning them into stars right?)

Right Under Me!

I thought dogs chewing on shoes was a myth and I thought once I had my dogs way past the puppy stage, I was in the clear. Apparently this is not true. 2 years ago, one of my dogs, the second one ate the little bit of suede off the back of my brand new sneakers. I wear them anyway, though I do have the decency to cringe when people notice. I just can’t bring myself to invest in another possible chew toy. Two days ago, I notice my dog, same dog, chewing frantically and contentedly under the table. RIGHT UNDER ME! Deep in my subconscious something woke up, I had not given any of my dogs a bone in months. I had not bought any pig-like ears or anything; I had not made ox-tail soup either. I bent down, peered under the tablecloth and found my second dog eating the heel of my favorite pair of boots. They are suede with big brown buckles and nice heels and comfortable as H. E. double-hockey-sticks. I was floored, and I screamed, because frankly, I don’t even have nightmares bad enough to beat out my favorite boots under attack. Luckily the one remaining shoemaker in my town is still alive and working a few days a week. He did his best, and I can wear them as long as no one looks too closely at the teeth marks. Once that man retires, I may have to ship my shoes away to get fixed…

Guess who moved into the neighborhood?

I am going to lose it. All of a sudden, after 10 years of living in our little suburban home, a rooster has moved into the neighborhood. No I do not mean some overdressed guy taking up residence around the corner but an actually a real rooster that my dogs go hunting for every morning. He crows somewhere in our little chunk of town and my dogs go insanely crazy! Now there is farmland in our town, but nowhere in a 1/2 mile radius from us. This rooster is probably lurking in the woods behind our house. There is some landlocked property there and I think a little hiking trip is taking place today through our patch to find this distraction. I am going to have to put up chicken wire to keep the dogs out of the woods now, because every morning they are off to find this rooster. In the ten years we have lived here, this patch of woods has yielded 1 bunny, 3 turtles, a few cats and a groundhog, along with some daffodils that the neighbors throw back there after Easter and Mother's Day. We have never seen any deer or anything. It was a benign patch of woods until a few weeks ago. Now I am thinking, with the economy so bad, maybe I should get a few chickens and let them wander back there with said rooster? Fresh organic eggs might make up for me having to chase the dogs every morning.

No Good Excuse

Yesterday I disappointed my daughter; I told her I spent 2 1/2 hours watching back episodes of Paris, My New BFF. She couldn’t understand why I wasted my time. I protested, “It’s iconic reference research,” but she wasn’t budging on her position that I was stunting my brain development. Since my daughter is 13, I have to keep on top of all the tv shows that she may be watching in the future. Of course I just want to watch Lipstick Jungle and Grey’s Anatomy, but if I don’t understand which way the girls are growing, how am I ever going to get through her teenaged years? I don’t yet allow her to watch VH1 or MTV but she wants to and it is only a matter of time until she is streaming back seasons of The Hills and DeGrassi. She caught me watching Brooke Knows Best on my ipod the other day and I didn’t even have a response other than it was free to download.

OK, now that I have proved my reasoning I am going to just offer up the truth, I was curious. It was a fun show to watch in a perversely, slightly sickening way. I was watching a bunch of young ladies and two men dye their hair, throw themselves at men, and drinking themselves into a stupor to get to be best friends with a celebrity user. I laughed at their poor judgment and groaned a few times. I don’t blame Paris Hilton, I blame the girls that really cry about being her friend. I expect some of them signed up for the show to get their faces out there, but some of them are so over –the-top crazy about Paris that it is painful to watch. The girls that attempted to stick up for themselves were quickly vetted out. I have no idea why there were there in the first place; they must have stayed at the crazy bar a little too long, because I would never pick them to be anyone’s best friend.

I am going to stay on top of the idols of the day because they do influence my daughter’s life. The more mainstream these weird shows become, the more normal it will be for our youth to keep perpetuating the insanity.

Too Young to be Old

I am officially old. Physically I am 42 years young, but I am old in the sense that I remember and mourn the loss of local businesses that used to get me through my life. It took me a while to build up these relationships because I am from North Jersey originally. When I first moved down here, I used to run home every weekend, sure that I was stuck in a shopping wasteland.

After a few years of hitting the parkway every Friday, I adjusted and learned how to live my life without driving 2 ½ hours to get a bagel. I assimilated and put down roots in the muck and sand of South Jersey. Driving around on the weekends, learning my way, I established relationships with stores and service centers in the Brigantine and Atlantic City area. I was finally living here. Then, about ten years ago, my favorite mechanic sold out and moved. This was quite a blow. Who else would I trust? Al had been sending me away for years saying, “You don’t need brakes yet, Michelle. See me next year. They are just squealing because they are dusty.” By the time I needed brakes, he and his son Ronny were gone.

A few years later, one of my favorite supermarkets closed. I used to drive 40 minutes to the Zagara’s in Marlton, NJ, just to get my favorite granola, cheese, organic vegetables and the bagels I was missing from New York. I loved this store, they had beautiful white shopping bags with sturdy handles and red strawberries on them and I always felt thoroughly spoiled walking out of there with my purchases. Every “specialty” market felt second rate to me after they closed. Whole Foods and Trader Joes are just down the road apiece, but they don’t have the same sunny atmosphere.

I feel betrayed when a local store I shop in closes. I have invested in them, why aren’t they here for me? Should I have shopped more? When I married and moved to the town of Hammonton 15 years ago I had to relearn my shopping habits again because I had moved from the shore area. New butchers were needed, gift shops, mechanics, body shops and hairdressers. I loved the shopping in this town though, I could pretty much get everything I needed, the people were friendly and the stores and businesses were family-owned. Now I am not moving again anytime soon, but the businesses around me are moving on and changing hands. In the last few years we have lost our beloved body shop, trust me, I needed Petetti’s right around the corner from me.

We have also lost my husband’s favorite pizza parlour, the owners sold out and retired. They supposedly still make the pizza the same way, but it does not taste exactly the same. Our amazing Toni’s Custard Stand where we used to get fried chicken and ice cream sandwiches is now a Mexican food stand. Baskets by Inferrera’s, my favorite gift store, is no longer on the avenue, but lives on in a back room not open to leisurely gift browsing. There is not the same cache of buying a beautiful gift basket when they sit next to the frying chickens in their butcher shop.

I am not complaining, because we all get older and have to readjust our priorities and business plans, but it still hurts a bit when I realize that my radiator will be fixed by a stranger, and not by our trusty mechanic on Broadway. He left no forwarding address, which is probably best, because we have been trying to track him down and he probably just wants a rest after years of serving his community. People die, retire, or need a change of pace, and if they own a business, their changes affect us all. I myself hear from people that they miss our family donut shop and deli. I do feel guilty that it closed; I do miss our customers and the amazing subs we used to make. Christmastime is not the same without banging out 2,000 cookie trays with my family and co-workers. But Christmastime cannot sustain a year-round business and I understand first-hand how hard it is to staff a store with trustworthy people.

So what to do? I just sit here in my forties just like an advanced senior citizen. I remember all the good times, all the lost businesses and friends, and I make sure I shop locally. I want to make sure that the stores I still love and frequent are here for me in the future.

Halloween 2008

Enjoy all the pictures of Halloween 2008. It almost didn't happen because of the Phillies Parade, but Freddie got us out of the city on time.
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Phillies World Series Celebration

Citizens Bank Park!

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We decided to go to the parade since my husband has been talking about it since before we met. I thought it might be a nice idea to "Sleep Over" instead of fighting the traffic on Friday morning. We booked a hotel, got our tickets to the Lincoln Field Rally, packed and headed out. It was very spur of the moment and I am so glad we did it.

   Our hotel, the Econo Lodge in Philadelphia, .7 miles from Lincoln Field. Lovely staff, horrible electric outlets. This place doesn't earn a star for their rooms, it is a very low budget place, but their staff more than makes up for the rooms. It is a short walk to the stadiums.

The Penrose Diner food is good. They are right across the street from the Econo Lodge. This is where my husband got to shake hands with the Phillies first base coach, Davey Lopes. Guess he had time for breakfast before the parade. Nice staff, they were all dressed up for halloween and I never so a diner so full of red before.




Everyone walked all together in the streets lining up for the parade. There was not one person in a bad mood, it was wonderful!

The Spectrum, soon to be torn down. I know it is in bad shape, but it is sad to see the past broken up for shopping and bars.

This was a freaky shot, we went up to "visit" my husband football seats, I cannot imagine sitting up that high on a cold snowy day. There is no leg room and the pitch is so crazy that you would fall over seats if you stood up a sneezed real hard. I know that the new stadium seats are closer to the field, but I thought is was worse than Veteran's stadium. I am not going to an Eagles game in those seats, no way, no how.

My son in his Phillies gear.





Family Photos! Love those helpful strangers.

The William Penn Curse Is Dead!

My "Special" Pinky

My Pinky will never be the same, my pinky toe that is, not my sister. I broke it by trying to put the foldable TV table away. I dropped it instead and smashed the #@$% out of my toe. This is what happens when women clean the house, they get attacked with furniture. We should just know better by now; men should move all the big stuff that they leave out. Anyway, it has been over a month, it is still really red, and I still can't get my sneakers on. I am going to lose the little nail too, I can just tell. I assume that when the cuticle of the nail stays black for over a month, that it may not even grow back? I might be getting a fake pinky nail at the salon for the rest of my life. Acrylic on my feet? eeeeeeaaawwww! By the way Wendy, thanks for giving me that table, me and my pinky toe will remember you always.

A love affair...

I am supposed to be making Halloween costumes for a float, clearing out a shed and writing three papers due this week. My bedroom is a mess and I am pretty sure that the laundry has set up it's own system of government by now. So, where do I start? I know, Coffee! I think I'm in love, love, love with that coffee press. For those of you who don't know about the three years of coffee drama I recently went through, you many think I am obsessing. I may be, and that's fine. But I have a coffee press now and I think I can tackle the aforementioned jobs.

You see, it all started with a beautiful cup of coffee I had on a camping trip with Wendy in college. It was Chock-Full-of Nuts coffee in an old fashioned percolator. Delicious, right? I liked it. I had always drank tea, my whole life. Now I liked coffee. It was good. Then my friends Maggie and Ralph moved in, we lived together during college. They were big time coffee drinkers. Maggie had this little spanish percolator, she steamed the milk and I liked that. But she moved to Puerto Rico and took her coffee making skills with her. Now Fernando gets what I had used to have, my own live-in barista. A few years later a beautiful Krupps, ten cup coffee maker made it appearance; my friend Michele gave it to me when she bought a different color one. After 10 years of making one cup a day, it got cranky. It started spitting my beloved brew out the sides and down the front of the machine.

Wendy, decided to give me a new machine. I liked it very much, but it was too big for my ONE cup that I needed each day, and the grinder was way too noisy. We used it for a few years. It also had a lot of parts to clean. Every time Wendy asked me if I like it, I felt bad because she spent so much money on it. It was okay, but the thought was better than the machine. I visited friends in florida and had the chance to use Kevin's one cup machine with the little plastic cups of flavored coffee. I thought it was cool. One cup, no mess, what could be better? I went home, looked up the machine, it was Three-hundred dollars. I thought, no way!

My husband bought me a one cup coffee maker by Melitta for Christmas. it was Fifty dollars. The big coffee maker went into the cabinet to be used when we had guests. Best gift ever, I thought, I loved the one cup pod machine and used it for two years in my classroom because I wasn't finding the time to use it at home. My sister, Pinky, bought me a case of their coffee pods. I made coffee for all my friends in the morning. We were all so happy.

Then, I mistakenly went to Pinky's house and she made me a latte. A real latte with her Starbucks machine. OK, that was it, The coffee I had been drinking was "just coffee." I knew there was something way better out there calling my name. I started buying other pods for my machine and it didn't like it, it started leaking and I couldn't make coffee at home on the weekends without lugging it home. The other teachers started to get nervous, and brought in their own machine. When I went to Starbucks, I was no longer getting my Mocha Frappiccino, I was buying lattes. I started going to Starbucks on my way to school once a week to treat myself, but the other days I was unhappy. I was going broke over brown water.

For some reason, I resisted buying a new coffee maker, after all, everyone else always bought me one, and I just couldn't decide. I wanted strong coffee, I wanted my froth, and I couldn't afford to keep going into Starbucks. So I went cheap, I bought a little $3 coffee funnel and some good coffee and went coffee commando for a few months. I patted myself on the back that I had solved all my problems, and very cheaply, I might add, though I missed the froth.

Well, then I saw the cooking channel and a chef using his coffee press. I had seen them before, but never in use and always thought they looked so complicated. According to the show, they were easy, and my obsession started anew. Thankfully my sister, catching my schizoid behavior, and probably unconsciously admitting that she started the whole problem with the amazing latte in the first place, bought me a coffee press. I used it and it was so easy and the coffee was amazing. I started using my immersion blender to make frothy milk. But this created a big mess and the thing made a lot of noise.

I ran out and got a little froth whipper at the Goodwill store. I am now in coffee heaven. I have miles of quiet froth, and my kids and husband are bugging me for coffee. They have learned how to use the press and expect caramel macchiattos every weekend. (I really need to get some decaf for them.) After reading what I have written, I must have driven everyone around me crazy for more than the three years I originally thought. I was in L.L. Bean the other day looking for raincoats for the kids and I saw a camping coffee press. Too cool, now I have to go camping so I can buy it. No doubt after reading this, one of my friends will get it for me. They always come through when we are talking coffee.

Tips for Dealing with Strangers on Craigslist

Be Cautious when Getting Rid of that Eyesore in Your Yard

Tips for dealing with strangers on craigslist
by Michelle Wendt
Read This article on my Associated Content Page!
Tips for Dealing with Strangers on Craigslist
Be Cautious when Getting Rid of that Eyesore in Your Yard


Today was my first real experience using craigslist. I posted an ad for a FREE swing set, two hours later the old eyesore is gone and I have more space in my yard. This whole experience was not without it's dangers and pitfalls. With a little planning, you can get rid of your old stuff and still feel safe. Within five minutes of me posting my seven-year-old swing set, rusty pictures and all, I had eleven replies and people were begging me to pick them, strange people I didn't know. Before ever placing an ad that could bring strangers to your door, take a moment to consider if you know of someone you are already acquainted with that may be able to use your old junk. Offer them the rights of first refusal.
If you are unable to give your junk away to friends, there are a few things to consider when allowing someone you don't know to come to your house. I was a bit cautious in giving out my address, after all, who wants strangers coming to their yard? I wrote the ad specifying that I would not provide tools or access to my house to use the bathroom or for any other reason. I figured this would keep any potential freaks away. When they pulled up I looked out of the window and wrote down their license plate number. Absolutely do this whenever you are letting strangers on your property. I locked the house door behind me when I went outside to greet the couple and pointed them to the rear yard. I had my cell phone in my hand. My three mini-schnauzers were barking madly from the inside windows, but I still I kept my distance at all times. Always keep something between you and strangers, preferably something you could throw at them if necessary.
The man brought his own tools and generator, since I would not be providing electricity. Do not provide access to your house, ever. I have no outside power line and I was not going to run a line out of my house, it would mean the house would be unsecured. Yes, I am a type A personality.
I was relieved that he was prepared with an electric saw and I was all set to go back into the house when his toddler made a beeline for the swing set and started swinging. When I write beeline, I mean it, I had to ask the couple to remove the child from the set as bees had made a hive in it a few years ago and it might not be safe. I can tell you, my first thought when she sat on the swing was, "What if she gets hurt on my property?" What could I have done? I should have made sure that the child did not come on my property. I could have dragged the swing set to the front yard. In this litigious society, we cannot be too careful about who is on our property and we cannot ever let our homeowners policies lapse. When writing your own ad you can always specify that children are not permitted on your property.
How do you pick from all the replies? I wondered that myself, they all wanted my set, at least 3 repliers wanted the set immediately. I even got a few sob stories, "I am interested in the swing set and can take it apart. My kids having been bugging me for one for some time now and being in the midst of a divorce I have not had the financial ability to provide one." I continued opening the emails and thought about how to decide.
The one I hated to turn away was from a grandmother; "I really could use this for my granddaughter, who spends a lot of time with me. It would be a great diversion from having to go into the pool with her all the time."
To be fair I chose the person who got back to me the quickest. Hindsight tells me that I should have picked the one who agreed to all my type-A requests, which I did.
After packing the pieces up in their truck, the scrapping couple left, taking my eyesore and a whole lotta bees with them. I have saved myself a trip to the town dump, an uncomfortable conversation with my husband about dismantling the set, and painful bee stings, but it was an unsettling experience just the same. I actually got an email from the couple that picked up the swing set after I thanked them, "If you ever decide to sell your patio set we would be interested," Clara wrote. Okay, now I don't know if I should feel uncomfortable or not. Is this the start of an ongoing relationship, will they be back scavenging everything made of metal in my yard? Probably not, but it freaked me out. Take your ad down immediately after the item is gone from your yard and do not reply to any further inquiries.
As far as my experience with Craigslist goes, I think it is a valuable resource for everyone, but I will always be cautious with people I am not familiar with. When I sell my living room furniture in the coming weeks to make room for the new set, I will bring the furniture out of doors so we don't have any strangers in my house. The safety of my family is worth me dragging it outside.