Whoppers and Kit-Kats and Twix… Oh My!

I haven’t had any Halloween candy in the house. In the past I’ve bought bags and bags and bags ahead of time. Not such a good idea. Because when that monthly sweet-chocolate-I-must-have-something-and-have-it-now craving comes by those bags become dust in the wind. Maybe you can have just one or two of those (puny) Fun Sized candies. But I can not. To me, it ain’t Fun Sized until the whole damn bag is gone and I am hunched over writhing in pain. Now that’s fun! Well, not really…
I decided that this year we would have no candy in this house until Halloween. So I went out to run my errands this morning and dropped off a script for Christopher at our local CVS and decided to pick up our candy. I stood there in the center of the aisle, lost, dazed and way, way, way, too confused. First I started grabbing all the stuff I don’t like. I don’t want to be left with gobs of ooey gooey goodness. I’m not good with temptation. So I grabbed some icky stuff. Then I got disappointed in myself. I can’t do that. We’re new to the ‘hood. We want people to come to our house, not run right by it. So I tossed all the icky stuff back onto the shelves. Besides, I know myself and I would end up eating the icky stuff too. Just because. It’s there.
Up and down the aisle I paced, wandering, querying, picking up packages and putting them back. I should have sent Don. This was one decision I was finding particularly difficult. And it continued for about 15 minutes. Bags go in the cart. Bags come out of the cart. In and out. In and out. Finally, I said to hell with it and just walked away with a few bags of really good stuff. I have m&ms, both regular and peanut. I have Reese’s cups and Whoppers and Milk Duds. I have Junior Mints. I have Nestle Crunch bars and something else. I have $50 worth of candy. $50 worth of friggin‘ candy! How absolutely ridiculous is that? But I want to be prepared. I want to have enough candy to pass out. Maybe we won’t get any Trick or Treaters at all… maybe we will run out of candy… I have no idea what will happen but I would rather have enough than not enough. I just don’t want any leftovers. At all.
Which brings me to another topic. My scale. It’s broke. Really is broken. I have this fancy digital thing I got when I first got pregnant with Rebecca eons ago. Well, I stepped on it the other day and the reading was off. Way off 10 pounds off. Of course I would love say I weigh what the numbers said I did but I would be lying and fooling myself. So I got on the scale and it said the same thing. I did this a few times. And then when I got on the 26th time it added 20 pounds! Just like that! I jumped off the scale and screamed! Yessir I screamed. Like I had seen a tarantula crawling by. And then I got back on 20 more times and the numbers wouldn’t budge. But they budged when I stepped on the 51st time. Back to that original reading. I know it’s all wrong but I like it! Damn, stupid, @^%#! scale!
I’ve hit middle age, that’s what I am thinking. I may never see the waistline I had in my early 30s. I haven’t seen it since Alexander was born. The kid destroyed me I’m telling you! I’m sure my midsection is what it is because I bore three children. But I have more excess skin on me than a Sharpei puppy. And I am blaming it on Alexander. And because I am getting old. (And, according to my husband, crotchety to boot!) But I have friends who have 6 pack abs and they are my age! Ok, well maybe the fact that my treadmill has more dust on it that in my bagless vacuum… and maybe my running shoes have been missing since Clinton left office… and maybe those m&ms aren’t really helping… but still!
So you know what I am going to do? I am going to shimmy into a pair of Spanx and grab myself a bag of Twix and eat them on my broken scale!

Down on the Farm and a nice encounter with the Marlboro Man

Alexander had a field trip today to a farm in Oxford, Connecticut. This was my third time to the farm (I’d been with both Becca and Christopher when they were in Pre-K 3) and, truth be told, I was not looking forward to it. Not even a little bit. Not at all. Outside the skies were grey and the winds blustery. The grounds were heavy with wet leaves from yesterday’s rains. I have learned from my past that it’s always a good 10 degrees colder at the farm than it is here. And even here they were predicting wind chills in the 30s!
This time I was prepared bundled up in my black turtleneck sweater, black leggings, long, white quilted North Face coat and my super warm ULU boots. I was dressed for the farm. Or the Alps. Or Mt. Everest!
I was secretly hoping for rain, but when I got up this morning I saw that was not happening. I dragged my unwilling self out of bed and rose the troops. As miserably disappointed I was in the sun’s appearance, I knew Alexander was thrilled. He’d been talking non-stop about the cows and the hay ride and Old Mac Donald. So instead of sulking and whining I decided to put on my big girl panties and suck it up.
I did not, however, go on the school bus. Alexander was upset. Both with me and the fact that he couldn’t ride with the other kids on the bus. He’ll have his chance one day. But he’s only 3 and now I want him with me, strapped safely in his car seat. I feel better that way.
Because I was driving (instead of being all cooped up in a stuffy nasea-making school bus) I was able to see and appreciate the breathtaking beauty of rural Connecticut. As we hit the “mountains” of Oxford the sun hid behind the clouds and the skies had a menacing look. Then we drove through the valleys and the sun came back out with the rain. But wait, that wasn’t rain; It was snow! Real snow… October snow! It wasn’t sticking but it was flurrying and white. I was as giddy as Alexander in the back. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such an awful day after all!
Not long after we got there the other driving (mean) moms arrived followed by the school bus. We were met by a wonderful gentleman who would guide us and drive the tractor that pulled our hay covered wagons. I nicknamed this fellow The Marlboro Man. He had that gruff, tough exterior. He was rugged and strong. And he was so gentle and wonderful with the children. The only thing missing was a smoke and a Clydesdale.
Alexander and the children delighted in the snow and pumpkins and feeding the cows! It was a truly wonderful day after all! The air, while chilly, lent itself wonderfully to the spectacular skylines and views. Because I was bundled up like the Abominable Snowman I had as wonderful a time as Alexander did.

(The Marlboro Man!)

(I think my camera took a liking to him!)

The many and varied colors of the day were absolutely spectacular!

The cows were gentle and loving!

It’s what’s for dinner!

Warm Tootsies!
Alexander trying to catch snow on his tongue!

Enough Already… One week and Counting!

This election is a lot like pregnancy. It has been painful at times (excruciatingly so) and way, way, way too long. Like obstetricians poking and prodding much too frequently for nine very long months, the media pokes and prods our presidential and vice presidential candidates. Look, it’s no secret where I stand politically these days. (Though truth be told neither candidate is ideal.) But what I heard on the news yesterday morning was appalling, disgraceful.

Somehow I was able to escape the antics of Blue and Joe, Max and Ruby and tune into what I believe was an NBC station. Good Lord help me if my folks over at Morning Joe stooped this low… but someone was actually interviewing the second hand shop where Ms. Palin and her daughters shop. And whoever this interviewer was (I was in the bathroom trying to do my hair) actually had the audacity to ask how much Ms. Palin and her daughters spent on their shopping sprees there. How completely and utterly tacky is that? Gauche, as my grandmother would have said. Delving into her personal-political life is one thing. Delving into her clothes shopping habits when there is nothing wrong with them is something else completely. (In fact, by shopping at a second hand store she is indeed recycling.)

No one made fun of Hilary while her husband ran for office. And they should have. Boy should they have. When her husband was elected Mrs. Clinton had a complete and total transformation. (Thank Goodness.)

I am sure this stupid, complete waste of time interview was all a result due to the latest gossip about the Alaskan Governor trading in her second hand clothes for the haute couture and high price tags of Saks Fifth Avenue and Needless Markup, er, I meant to say Neiman Marcus… If Obama can spend (waste) millions on his campaign then for crying out loud let the woman dress nicely. If someone is willing to shell out some money for some good quality clothing then let them. Mrs. Palin doesn’t do too terribly badly on her own. She just needs a little fine-tuning.

I only wish, perhaps, that someone would afford her a nice stylist because, come on, this beehive doo-op thing has to go. And her Lens Crafters should get tossed into the trash. Unless she will no longer be able to see Russia from her bedroom window. In that case, she should keep them.

While we are on the complete opposite sides of the political spectrum (I being on the North Pole and she being on the South) I have to admit she is a very attractive and bright woman. She’d be stunning if we added some highlights and contacts. Her suits are too stuffy indicating that she is less Maverick than she would like to admit. So whoever the new stylist is, if you are by chance reading this, I think Sarah needs a little color and sparkle under her suits. And really, one can dress quite conservatively without dropping tens of thousands of dollars an outfit. I think Sarah would look quite well in a nicely tailored Calvin Klein pantsuit, or an elegant Ralph Lauren (doesn’t have to be Black Label) suit in black or charcoal grey worn over a pretty hot pink cashmere (or even lavender!) sweater and some pearls. Pearls are stylish and the perfect accessory. I just implore that she stay away from my J. Crew!

She needs to veer a little bit away from her comfort zone. Look we all know she is one sexy broad, so play up those attributes. A little sex appeal never hurt anyone. And obviously, they’ve brought Ms. Palin a long way. There is nothing wrong with a soft, sexy hockey mom.

In a week her 15 minutes of fame will be over. Let her go out in style!

It’s almost that time of year…

to set the clocks back and replace all of our batteries in our smoke detectors (if they are not hardwired into your electrical system/alarm systems) AND you Carbon Monoxide/Gas Detectors. If you do not have one, I IMPLORE you to get one now. They save lives. I am now living proof (and thank God not a statistic) that ours saved our lives. Put this on the top of your to do list. Do it NOW. And tell everyone you know, parents, siblings, friends, co-workers… EVERYONE.
We were running late to school on Friday morning. Nothing unusual there. Christopher mentioned that the number on the CO detector box was unusually high. (Admittedly I have never paid much (any) attention to the small white box plugged into the wall in the front entryway. I shushed him and told him to finish getting ready. There was a lot of yelling going on that morning. The kids couldn’t get their acts together. Couldn’t get dressed. Couldn’t pick up their toys, clothes, messes. Admittedly, I am pretty anal about leaving the house tidy in the morning. But I knew this was not going to happen. I thought I would drop the kids off at school and come back and tidy up. Then I remembered that I had a meeting at the Audubon Center for the wine tasting I am organizing. With an hour to kill I decided to head to Starbucks with my friends instead of going home. There would not have been much time for tidying anyhow.
When all was said and done we left the Audubon at about 11:30. Alexander passed out in the car shortly there after. I was looking forward to a nice nap. It had been a long time since he had had one. When we got home I went in to unlock the house so I could transfer my sleeping babe. I hear the shrill of the smoke detector but I saw and smelled no smoke. That is because it was not the smoke detector but the CO (Carbon Monoxide)/Gas Detector. And then I remembered how Christopher remarked how high the numbers had been. The red numbers glared angrily at me. 44. (Normal is 0) The light indicating I needed TO GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HOUSE ASAP was on as well. It had already been a long week. I was already stressed and overworked and overtired. All I could think of at that very moment was that a) this was indeed a crisis and b) I was not going to get a break that day. I was more annoyed by that, truth be told.
I texted Don and asked him what to do as I stood in the kitchen smelling the foul, rotten-egg odor that I had not smelled that morning. Seeing my kitchen counters covered, sink filled sky-high with dishes and the dishwasher that begged emptying, I actually contemplated tidying up. Alexander was safely in the car at the bottom of the driveway. Just then Don texted back (cell phones are not allowed on in the ORs but he can text me on his Blackberry) and told me to call the fire department and get out!

I grabbed a house phone with me since we have no cell reception where we live. Of course I grabbed one that had been off the charger. Typical. I drove down to the main road where there is reception and called the fire department non-emergency number. They told me they were sending someone over but to hang up and call 911.

And that’s when fear and exhaustion consumed me. I drove home. Alexander was still sound asleep. I pulled in and waited beyond one of the stone pillars at the bottom of the driveway. I saw the fire engine come racing down followed by a police car. I followed them up the driveway and let them in, explaining the situation as I unlocked the front door.

The men were all suited up in their oxygen tanks and masks. Clearly they were not taking this lightly. As soon as we opened up the front door their super-sensitive CO/Gas detectors started sounding off frantically.

How could I have ignored Christopher? Why didn’t I take a closer look at the monitro that morning? Was my dream house going to blow up sending everything we owned in the air… photos, memorabilia, etc… favorite jeans, antique jewelry… was I going to be a statistic? Would my house be in the news… blown to smithereens? Remember we just moved here in May. We are still not fully decorated (by any stretch of the imagination.) All these thoughts started racing through my head. I knew in my heart something was very wrong and very dangerous. My older two were in school and Alexander was still sound asleep in his car seat oblivious to everything.
After a good half hour I decided to wake Alexander. My little boy who is all about fire engines and firemen shouldn’t sleep through all this excitement. So I woke him. He was very groggy until I mentioned the big red fire truck in the driveway. He perked up immediately. He was thoroughly impressed. I told him to stay seated on the hill, away from the truck and away from the men who needed to do their work. I explained, as best as I could to a 3 year old, what was going on. He was a doll. He was a gem. I was terrified and he was in his glory. And despite it all I was so happy for him.
Eventually one of the fire men came out and explained that there was leak coming from somewhere. They could not pinpoint the exact location, though they knew it to be in the basement. The reason the levels were so high throughout the house was because the CO was seeping through all the vents.

They opened up all the windows, doors, sliders, bulk head doors and brought these massive fans in to blow out the bad air and bring in fresh air. They did this until their readings dropped back down to 0. We would be allowed back in when all was safe and clear.

The fireman who came out to talk to us what completely taken by Alexander and his love for all firemen related things. He commented that the firemen noticed all his fire gear and apparel throughout the house and they loved his bedroom! Alexander delighted in that and was completely star-struck when the fireman talked to him. He had this wide, super-goofy grin on his face. It was precious!

Eventually we were told we could get back in safely. The furnaces had been shut off but not the hot water heater. I was instructed to keep my eye on the CO detector and if the numbers crept back up we would know it was the water heater. If the numbers did not creep back up, one of the furnaces would be to blame.
Our furnaces were inspected later that afternoon and indeed that was where the problem lay. There was a crack in the heat exchanger which was emitting gas and carbon monoxide. Had we not had our carbon monoxide detector we may have not gotten out of bed the following morning. Scary stuff. Luckily we have two furnaces and the broken one has been dismantled (and will be fixed for $4k!!) on Monday. The one that is operational is doing a great job keeping everything (except for the playroom over the garage) nice and toasty.
Our house is only 20 years old but the heating and air system are original to the time of construction. I hope the other furnace does not go as well. If it does we’ll be in the poorhouse! And, I really do not want to have to go through all that drama again any time soon.
Carbon Monoxide is a natural occurring by-product of all natural fossil burning fuel — gas and oil. So unless you have no gas or oil in your house I implore you to get a carbon monoxide detector in your house.
(getting oxygen tanks and masks on)
(suiting up for the gas chamber)

(getting super duper sized fan off the truck to flush toxic air out of
the house)

I’ve been Tagged… again!

Margaret, mommy to beautiful Grayson and Emma Claire tagged me. Now I need to post 7 random facts about myself and tag 7 people.

My 7 random facts are (in no particular order):

1. I am a perpetual postponer. I put everything off until the last possible minute. But while I operate very well (at my best) under pressure, I really do hate procrastinating.

2. I have suffered from ADD all my life. I was not diagnosed until after college, however. I have passed this lovely trait on to my son Christopher. Like me his is a very calm person. But he fidgets a lot. And gets distracted all the time. So if you are in a deep conversation with me and I do not keep my eyes focused on you at all times, it is not my intention to have “wandering eyes” as I really can not help it. It is a constant struggle. We have just put my son on meds and they are making a world of a difference. He tells me he can pay attention and people aren’t “bothering” him anymore. I love him and I am proud of him and I secretly want to steal one of his focusing pills! But I will stick to my uber strong Starbucks instead!

3. I would like to publish my stories someday. I have written short stories and some children’s stories. They are all boxed in the basement at the moment.

4. Maybe even a cookbook too. With my kids.

5. I would love nothing more than to have to my house to myself for an entire day with no spouse and no children. I would watch Oprah and Martha and take a lovely Jacuzzi tub and read my book and snooze!

6. My maternal grandmother is my inspiration. (I’ll blog about this amazing woman later on.) She died 4 years ago and I still miss her tremendously. I think she is my guardian angel.

7. I am not a religious person. I am by heritage Jewish. I was brought up celebrating Christmas. And have never practiced though both my parents did when they were children. Good thing as Christmastime is absolute most favorite time of year! My husband is Catholic. My children will be able to decide (when they are old enough to do so) which religion they would like to follow. I will insist, however, they learn all about their heritage on my side. It is too important to ignore and forget. I want my children to understand how tragic the Holocaust was. I want them to understand that racism can not be tolerated. I also

want Rebecca to read the Diaries of Anne Frank when she is just a bit older. That book completely changed my life.

Wow, I had no intentions of this being such a “deep” post… but there we have it 7 random things about me that you may not have known!

I am now tagging Jenni, Jen, Andrea, Mandy, Ann(ie), Jo, and Liz!

In search of the Great(est) Pumpkin

We took a little drive yesterday to nearby Shelton, CT to admire the breathtaking foliage before it disappears altogether. And to get some pumpkins. It seems everyone’s doing it these days! We nearly didn’t because our schedules have been so busy but Christopher’s soccer game was cancelled yesterday and so we jumped at the opportunity to do something together (besides fighting!) as a family. It was a crisp, fairly chilly day. Perfect weather for a pumpkin patch!

Spanx for the Holidays!

Now you can have your cake and eat it too!

I’ve been 10 pounds over my pre pregnancy weight for 3 years now. I keep waiting for it to just melt away, but I think I should start giving up hope. I mean, it’s a little like Linus and The Great Pumpkin. He keeps waiting and waiting and waiting. He’s been waiting for about 40 years I think. We all know that the Great Pumpkin is not going to show up but Linus isn’t giving up so easily. I suppose that’s how it is with my Muffin Top, Michelin Tire, middle age spread. If it was just going to melt away I am pretty certain it would have done so by now. Of course all those goodies that come out of my oven, and off the shelves from Target (remember Pumpkin Spice Kisses and Kraft’s Caramel Bits that went into my delicious caramel apple cookies?) are not helping matters any. At all. I should just motivate and do something about it. But for some reason I can’t. I should dust off the treadmill. I should unfold the jogger. I have a long list of Shoulds. But I don’t.

So there we have The Battle of The Bulge. My cute pants are snug through the belly. Not so pretty. Not so comfortable. They remain piled in my closet in hopes, that like the Great Pumpkin, they will magically make an appearance.

Last winter I bought some Spanx. Some wonderful, ingenious, life altering Spanx. They flatten and lift and tighten. And they work. And they are miraculous. And I do love them. So yesterday after staring tearfully at an oh so adorable pair of jeans that I have not worn in a very long time I decided to try them on with a pair of Spanx. It was like those 10 pounds fell off faster than Samantha could have had she twitched little button nose! I had a shape. I could see hip bones — well, sorta! I pulled up my jeans and they lay flat and smooth across my midsection. I had no muffin top or Michelin tire. I was smooth and taught and flat. Jeans haven’t looked that good in a long time!

This afternoon as I was leaving school a friend of mine pulled her car over and asked me if I had lost some weight. “You look so thin!” She told me.

I smiled and said “Spanx!”

Nature in Art

My Not So Artisitc One made these wonderful pictures using simply the twigs and sticks from our back yard. His brother and sister were busilly Crafting at the table and he came up with and created these. He randomly placed the sticks on the white paper and painted and glued them to the paper with Mod Podge (the same product I used for the pumpkin luminaries). The only things missing are a couple of frames!

This craft is so super easy and can be done by anyone. These pictures would also make lovely gifts at Christmastime for parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles!

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Stop the world… I want to get off!

It’s what I want to do right now. It is also the name of a musical from which I had to sing when I was in music class in elementary school. Mrs. Seuter loved show tunes. I did too, actually. But she didn’t love me. I was cast as an Alto and all of her beloved Sopranos got the best solos and musical roles. That’s OK. I know I can’t carry a tune very well. Ok, at all. Blame it on genetics.
I remember singing — Ok, shouting — at the top of my lungs, songs from various Broadway musicals. I loved Annie. That was a favorite for many, many years. The first time I saw it (there were many) Andrea McCardle had the lead role. The third time I saw it Sarah Jessica Parker (Yes, the same one of Square Pegs and Sex in the City fame) played the role of Annie. I tried to belt out the songs like they did. I remember standing in my room, in the center or my (lime green shag rug) stage singing You’re Never Fully Dressed without a Smile, Tomorrow, and Maybe. I had my Original Cast recording on my record player. I played that record over and over and over again. It’s probably at my parents’ house still with their original Frank Sinatras (my grandmother’s) and their original Beetles collection… with my J Geils (Freeze Frame) and my Greatest American Hero 45s! When I outgrew Annie I still stood on that lime green shag stage belting out all the songs from Fame, and Flashdance. My stick-straight hair couldn’t quite keep up with the big styles of the 80s… I cut all my sweatshirts and thought I was as sexy as Jennifer Beals… My friends would pass me by in the school hallways singing “I wish that I was Jessie’s Girl!” They thought they were soooo funny.

Those were the days! The good ol‘ days.

I haven’t been here in a few days not because I am ignoring you all… not because I have jetted off to some fantabulous island in Indonesia but because I have been busy. Too busy. Way too busy for my own damned good. Dizzying busy. It’s not the taking the kids to school and schlepping them from this activity and that activity and this play date and that play date kind of busy… but it’s the volunteer work busy. It’s the organizing and planning the school’s parents association wine tasting busy, and heading up the wrapping paper fundraiser busy and volunteering for the school book fair busy and overseeing the 4th and 5th grade social busy. Not to mention weekend plans and having people over for dinner busy. Last night Don and I were sitting in the family room talking about this and that when it suddenly hit us that the lease on my van is up in 3 weeks. Three weeks!

How did this happen? So now somehow, amongst all this craziness, I have to go car shopping. It’s so confusing and so complicated. There is so much out there, perhaps even too much. But there is not a whole heck of a lot I like, truth be told. I am a snob with a beggar’s budget at this point. I looked at the Audi Q7. That car is a Beeeooot! I would have driven off the lot with it in a New York Minute. But it’s a tad bit too small. Sure I could squish three across the second row and a couple more in the back, but Rebecca gets car sick — terribly car sick — and I imagined her there squished in the second row next to her brothers, or in the back row feeling a bit green under the gills. As stylishly me as that car is I have to put my kid’s well-being before my materialistic and shallow desires. Sigh… And due purely to size I can now rule out the new Acura MDX and the Volvo XC90. Bummer. Bummer. Bummer. So what is there left to drive? Not much. The Escalade is a dream in a Pimp My Ride Kind of a way but just too big for me. Same with the Suburban. And the Sequoia. I don’t like the way Fords drive. I love me a Mercedes, but that’s a bit too much to handle at the moment. The Lincoln Navigator is too big too. And yet I need to be able to sit 7 people in my car. (That allows 1 friend per child, plus me.) The Armada is out of the game on name alone. Sounds too much like Armadillo. Or Amarillo. Or Armageddon. I loved, loved loved the Land Cruiser. But Toyota had to go ahead and completely ruin the body style. I do not like (for me) the Tahoe, Trailblazer, Denali and Yukon. I do not like the Arcadia. I do not like the Pathfinder. Highlander and Pilot are too small. See where I am going with this? And no, I am NOT getting another van, though, as van’s go my Sienna was rockin’ and stylish with her leather and wood trim and had more bells and whistles than Santa’s sled at Christmastime. For a van the Sienna is hot. But I didn’t say that. You heard no such thing from me. I have three weeks to find a car. While schlepping kids and doing all that other stuff. And I am losing my head. I am losing my mind.

And suddenly we are halfway through October and I still haven’t found a painter — Good Lord No! I am not going to try to do that myself now too! My living room and dining rooms are in dire need for a make-over. And we need furniture. And Christmas is coming. Oh Christmas! I am so not ready to go there yet! I am barely ready for Halloween as we await Rebecca’s Padme (Star Wars character) costume. Christopher’s Darth Vader is, admittedly, pretty cool and Alexander looks adorable as a firefighter. I still have to buy the candy. But I do this a day or two ahead. I don’t want it in the house. We can never keep our grubby paws off the stuff! I haven’t really decorated this year. We’re that lame Halloween House. Maybe I’ll get a white sheet and cut a bunch of holes in it. We’ll hang it on a tree in the front and people will think that Charlie Brown stopped by. But he didn’t stay either as we were too lame even for him. Well, we’ll just have to be that way this year.

There’s just too much to do and I can’t keep on top of it. I need to try to stop and take a break. I need to step onto Rebecca’s hot pink flokati (Pottery Barn) stage and stand in front of her mirror and grab her mike and sing. I’ll not sing to Miley or the Jonases… I’ll not sing to Coldplay or Maroon 5 or Five for Fighting or John Mayer. I’ll sing to the Police. I’ll sing Roxanne. Loud and out of tune. I’ll sing to Springteen. I’ll sing Rosalita. I may even jump a little higher. I’ll belt out a tune or two by Billy Joel. And Queen. And Abba. And I won’t stop until I have sung every single Go-Gos song! We got the beat! And then, and only then, I may just pass the microphone off to Mandy and join her in a Milli-Vanilli duet.

Since, this will never happen, I might tell you instead, to roll up your car window if you happen to be passing through southwestern Connecticut tomorrow. And if you see a light blue Toyota Sienna with a cute blond chick in the driver’s seat you may just want to turn your own radio or DVD or iPod tunes up, way up. And that sound that sounds an awful lot like a dying cow… is… not… me! I will be singing. I may be singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider. or 100 Years. And maybe I’ll throw a few show tunes in for good measure!