One Zombie Sunday

Okay, here’s the deal.

There’s this race I really want to run in. I’m only sort of a runner. Like, mostly I run on the treadmill, because it hurts less and I don’t trip as often as I do when I run outside. Plus, I don’t trust you people on the road- have you seen you drive?

The race is a 5k obstacle course. With zombies. Who try to eat your brains.

I know, awesome, right?

I’ve been asking around to try and find some people to run it with me. The race closest to where I live is just outside of Philly, on a Saturday in June. I’ll have to take two shows off work to do it, which means that anyone I work with would have to do the same (which means, Jonny, you can’t do it, because somebody still has to mix the show).

So far I have no takers. People at work don’t want to lose the shows. The young people in my house don’t want to exert the effort. The women that I train with- who are all fitter and younger than me- say they’re afraid of getting injured and then their households will fall apart without them. I hadn’t considered injury as a real possibility, but I am pretty sure that my household will be Just Fine if that happens.

The race is called Run For Your Lives. Are you in? Or am I gonna have to do this all by myself?

Don’t want to run ? You can be a zombie! Or a spectator. (Go Jules Go, I’m talkin’ to you!)

Prombie — Photo by ismellsheep via WANA commons

That was your picture. Here are your links:

So this woman named Beth Howard lives in the house from the American Gothic painting. You know, the one with the pitchfork and the farmer father and his spinster daughter? Yeah, she totally lives there! She wrote this great book too, called Making Piece and is pretty much on a mission to make the world a better place through Pie. Yes, Pie with a capital P. She runs the Pitchfork Pie Stand at the American Gothic House and teaches all kinds of people how to make pie, including urban high school students. This just may be one of my favorite blog posts from anyone of all time. Wuz Up Wit Dat Hip Hop Pie Class on The World Needs More Pie.

Did you know Home Depot has a bondage aisle? 5 Things I Learned in Philadelphia or How To Love Your Double Life on 50 Dates in 50 States.

I’m including this one for my high school kids and anybody who has ever had to write a stupid repetitive essay: Since The Beginning of Time Mankind Has Discussed on The Onion.

In Thailand, 6 feet vomiting is still less expensive than 3.5 feet bloody. Just so you know. 3.5 Feet of Bad Blood on The Good Greatsby.

And finally, I leave you with a video that my Cirque du Soleil stage manager friend hipped me to. As she said, Layoffs? Not Funny. This Video? Funny!

Happy Sunday.

The Best Idea He Ever Had

Monday is pizza lunch day at the elementary school, the only school without a cafeteria where one could buy lunch in a pinch. . . if, say, one overslept or forgot to get lunch meat, or just couldn’t fricking deal with the prospect of making that many goddamn sandwiches again. Therefore, Monday has long been our throw-money-at-the-kids-and-let-them eat-crap-at-school day.

When school started up again after the holidays, CC issued a mandate: each of the four kids who have not yet graduated will be responsible for making school lunches one day each week.

Monday plus 4 kids making lunches each one day a week translates into both of us getting a whole extra thirty minutes’ sleep in the morning. That’s almost better than sex.

Almost.

It had to be a rule laid down by him. I never would have been able to make it stick. First off, they wouldn’t have believed me. Then, when they realized that I meant business, they would have been stuffing fistfuls of dry cereal (if there was any left) into sandwich bags and hurling them at each other on the way out the door going, “Here’s your lunch!”.

But now, the night before their allotted day, they make the sandwiches. They gather the snacks. They label the bags and put the cold things in the fridge. There have been some interesting but predictable occurrences. Like the lunchmaker gets the most coveted snacks. And how the day that we were nearly out of bread, #4 equally dispersed the hateful heels from two loaves of bread so that everyone got only one, and no one got stuck with two. Except for herself; she was exempted from heels and got the last two regular pieces of bread. She left one heel for CC and I to share for toast.

Last night #2 came into the living room full of angst.

#2: I would like to state for the record that I HATE that wheat bread for sandwiches!

Me: That’s what you said when I bought white bread! What do you want?

#2: Well, I like that OTHER white bread!

CC: I bought a loaf of that- it’s on the counter!

#2: I KNOW! That’s why I used it for my sandwich.

Me: And you used the hateful wheat bread for everyone else’s sandwich?

#2: Well, yeah. That way there will be more of the good white bread for my sandwiches later.

Me: When has that concept ever worked at any time for anything in this family?

#2: We’re out of goldfish.

My favorite part of this whole thing, maybe even better than the extra sleep, is what they’re writing on each other’s lunch bags.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious but we didn’t see it coming: My darling baby brother, Fart Face, Booger.

But #5, having Friday as his lunch-making day, has the entire week to think up retaliations for what his sisters write on his bag.

The girls underestimated him. My favorite last week was Don’t forget your ointment!

Wordless One & Done

Hey. It's One & Done Sunday. — Hey. It’s One & Done Sunday.

Here are your links:

There’s a lot to be said for feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Go Jules Go writes about posting a video clip of her singing on her blog: Hitting The Right Note Please do click on the clink in the post of her singing- it made me really happy.

Renée A. Schuls-Jacobson wrote this really cool and disturbing piece that stuck with me. Not a Tale for Children.

Darla always makes me laugh: Top Fifteen Signs You’re Old– She’s a Maineiac

Another badass post from Melissa Stetton on Pretty Bored: Bikini Auditions, Ugh.

I loved this post too– it’s funny-yet-poignant-but-not-in-a-way-that-makes-you-want-to-strangle-kittens-or-kick-babies: Life- The Yelp Reviews on Byronic Man. I gotta work on my own review.

Happy Sunday.