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24 Juli It's a good dayFour years ago today I was sitting in a perfect little chapel watching a perfect wedding ceremony and the perfect couple exchange the perfect vows. (I then had the perfect burger in celebration.) It was one of those days that you remember as a black and white film in your head; one of those times when you are absolutely sure that not a single one of the thousands of photographs being taken will be able to capture the day perfectly. One of those times when you are lucky to be there firsthand. I'm happy that I was there the day the perfect couple officially became the perfect couple, and I'm glad that I call them my good friends now. Many cheers to you, Klementine and The Man Behind The Wheel. Happy Anniversary! It's Different With SaltinesMr. Mandolyn and I were recently discussing the sheer brilliance of a favorite blogger of mine when we happened upon a mention of The White Bread Challenge. (eat one piece of white bread in 60 seconds or less) I have actually done this before. Honestly, I have. I promise. Mr. Mandolyn didn't believe me and so we both went into the kitchen to prove our respective claims. Alas, there was no white bread in the breadbox. When we decided that homemade wheat bread wasn't a qualified substitute, Mr. Mandolyn declared that The Challenge is also valid with six saltine crackers. I was pretty sure that this was ridiculous, but the competitive gnome in my head shouted, "You're on!" Yeah, it's different with crackers. After 20 seconds, I'd shoved exactly 2.5 crackers in my mouth and was on the verge of jaw spasms. It wasn't pretty. The timer beeped at the 60 second mark and I had one cracker left in my hand. Mr. Mandolyn laughed. So did I, complete with a shower of partially chewed cracker crumbs. My husband handed me a glass of water and said, "Oh, you're so gross. I'm so glad I married you." Loosely translated, "You're a dork, but you're my dork, so I love you...and by the way, you totally lost The Challenge." Okay, so I lost. With crackers. But next time I see a slice of white bread, I'm finding a timer. Redemption will be mine. 12 Juni Blow Out the Candles, This One Happy Birthday, Mr. Mandolyn! We love you beyond what words can express, now and always. -m & the Bean 21 Mai Everyday Miracles1. A good seamstress
2. A body shaping undergarment with "suit" in its title
My brother is getting married this Saturday and I am a matron of honor. This means that I got a suck-the-wind-right-out-of-me expensive black cocktail dress months ago and cried the first time I tried it on. I only wanted to blame its ill-fitting nature on leftover baby weight. Excuses aside, the sucker wasn't going to zip up without busting some seams. So I put it back in the plastic and back into the closet for a few months. The next time I tried it on I managed to zip it up with some elbow grease, but without shredded any material. "Unflattering" was a solid understatement as it clung to every unfortunate curve of my body.
So I did what any girl would do. Went to Target to embark upon the Great Spanx Hunt of 2008. Oh sure, I had the pair from my wedding, but I needed bigger guns, baby. Besides, didn't Ms. Paltrow admit to wearing two pairs of Spanx on the red carpert? After striking out at three or four Target stores, I wandered around a mall for a while until I unearthed a Miracle Suit from the back of a rack at Macy's. I'm fairly certain that a previous generation of this thing rolled off a NASA assembly line. All I know is its claim of making me look ten pounds thinner in 20 seconds was almost entirely true. There's not a chance in hell that I'll ever be able to get the Suit on in 20 seconds or less without doing some sort of permanent bodily harm. This thing is probably bulletproof, but folks, the dress fit and was almost public-worthy.
An angel disguised as a cafeteria lady/seamstress worked some serious magic and now I feel okay with the prospect of actually being seen wearing the bridesmaid dress. I got a little carried away last night after trying it on and tried a few other dresses from my closet. The Professional Grade NASA Body Shaping Wonder Suit had me zipping up a dress from my freshman year of college. Granted, there are a few ahem...minor additions since the ensemble made its debut in 1998, but that zipper made it to the top without strain.
I might just be in love. I wonder if I would do any lasting damage to my circulatory system if I just decided to never peel it off. Hmm. "Breathing appropriately" is so overrated.
-m 30 April An Open Letter to the Termite Infested Taco BuenoDear Termite Infested Taco Bueno,
You may have failed me for the last time, Taco Bueno. I was just trying to have lunch with Klem last week- not with termites. I'm sorry if that sounds ungrateful, but I was rather proud of Team Klemdolyn and our stamina. We noticed as an employee not-so-casually strolled over to a light fixture and sprayed it with bug spray. Five feet from our table. We even attempted to make light of the fact that every square foot of tiled floor seemed to move with little black critters. We casually switched tables after realizing that several termites had landed onto our table surface. But, dear Taco Bueno, we simply could not continue to play coy when our queso became a termite jacuzzi. I was going to eat that queso. And its conveniently edible chip bowl. Damn it. It was especially delightful that other employees, when Klem brought this issue to their attention, did not seem phased in the least. In fact, I'm not altogether sure they comprehended what she said at all. And for the record, she said it in a normal voice- much unlike the increasingly higher pitched one that I might have used.
I had a hard time bouncing back from the sudden discontinued status of my beloved cilantro ranch dressing, but I think this might be more than even I can stomach. I can't rule out that I might be tempted to try another location in the future, but for now, and for always at the Taco Bueno that Klem and I used to frequent, so long. Farewell, Mexi Dips and Chips Combo. Farewell Muchaco on the side. Farewell to the confusion that we instilled every time we ordered our Mexi Dips and Chips minus-beans-plus-an-extra-queso. Yes, we still realize that costs extra.
-mandolyn
27 Februar Things I Learned Today1. A small bit of plastic from a grocery sack can make it through a baby's gastrointestinal tract relatively unchanged.
2. Even with the above mentioned plastic, a poopy diaper is an irresistible snack to my dog. -m 21 Februar Parent of the Year Nominees, Part 1I had lunch with the wonderful Mrs. Klem last week. It was delightful and delicious, unlike the incident that I witnessed at my next stop. It was at Hobby Lobby that I was lucky enough to see another Parent of the Year on display. It was truly a sight to see. Let me see if I can recreate the scene...
I was standing in the fabric section looking for the discount pile for quilt material. (Yes, you read that correctly and no, I'm not over the age of 78, thank you.) I had already been there and wandered around by the yarn and paint and framing stuff but decided that I needed another look, just in case something remarkable had been dumped in the sad little discount bin in the ten minutes since I'd scoped it out last. Laundry avoidance is a beast, isn't it?
I heard an employee hesitate before saying, "Um, girls, can you please not climb on that? Thank you." The mom halfassedly summoned her hyperactive spawn. It didn't work out so well, since they answered her, "Girls, come over here." by running around, screaming like banshees and proclaiming things like, "HA HAHA HA HA I'm ridiculous! Look at meeeeee!" They were picking up rolls of ribbon and inspecting each one for 2.35 seconds before losing interest and moving on. Meanwhile, our Parent of the Year Candidate just focused on her own agenda, largely ignoring that her children seemed to have confused the craft store with the playground after a wild sugar rush. The racket woke the Bean up from her blissful napping state and she just stared at the action with wide eyes.
At some point, someone must have corralled one of the girls into a shopping cart because I heard giggling and yelling and then the unmistakable sound of metal crashing down upon linoleum. Folks, that's not a pleasant sound. It was quickly followed by an uncomfortable pause and then some serious wailing. Y'all. I was afraid to peek around the aisle. I was expecting to see blood, which thankfully wasn't there. What I did I see was an overturned shopping cart, a stunned little girl, a mom holding a sobbing kid while trying to feel all her extremities, and an employee who was desperately trying to show an appropriate amount of concern while holding her tongue. I wasn't sure of my role, really. I wasn't sure if I should stay put and pretend that I didn't notice or if I should run over and ask if they needed help. I didn't want to add onto the certain embarrassment but didn't want to be an ass (well, sort of). I'm still not sure that I did the right thing, but I hung around long enough to figure out that there was no permanent (physical) damage done and tried to tiptoe out of the scene of the incident unnoticed.
It was pretty intense. I was also awestruck by parenting awesomeness that was oozing all over that one. Seriously. Yikes.
Completely unrelated observation from Mr. Mandolyn while driving last night: None of the million (six?) Golden Corral restaurants that we passed on the highway had all the lights working in their sign. Not one. It was more than mildly amusing. It was also past 10:30 pm.
Golden Cor
den Corral
old Cor al
Go Corral
Budget cuts must be pretty bad.
23 Dezember To All Our Blog FriendsWe wish you a Merry Christmas and a very happy (and snarky) 2008.
Team KlemDolyn 06 Dezember 40 Years Ago, Awesomeness Happened.That's when Mr. Klem made his world debut.
I can't wait to spend 40 more years with him. If only I can keep him awake past 8pm.
Happy Birthday WG!
Much love,
The Wife
26 November An Open Letter to The Asshole Who Dumped That Dog.
Dear Jerk Wad,
I found your dog. He was starving and freezing. It was 8:30am on Thanksgiving morning at a gas station in West, Texas. I could count every single rib, and every single vertebrae. When I gave him food and he realized I wasn't going to take off, he wouldn't leave my side. It was 35 degrees.
I couldn't stop crying.
As Mr. Klem and I tried to figure out what we were going to do (West is so small, it doesn't have an animal shelter), at least 20 people walked past this dog. Everyone ignored him. We called emergency clinics and boarding facilities in Waco, which were full. After an hour of this, and trying to introduce him to our dogs, on the off chance we could all be in the car together, a miracle happened.
The manager of the gas station loaded the dog into her truck and said she would take him. "What's one more?", she said. The tears started again.
So here's what I don't get, Jerk Wad. Why? Why leave a defenseless animal to suffer along a highway in the middle of nothing? No food, no shelter, nothing. That day, it snowed. The dog had short hair, and was skin and bones. It was a short time before it was hit by a car or attacked by another animal in equally pitiful shape. I hope you can live with yourself.
Happy Thanksgiving. So many people with so much, too many with so little.
: Klem 08 November An Open Letter to The Important People In HollywoodDear Important People in Hollywood (and New York, apparently),
The Writer's Guild has been on strike for a few days now, which I've admittedly only been vaguely aware of. That is until this afternoon when I read an article and only made out certain blasphemous phrases like "production of The Office will be halted" and, "no talks have been scheduled." Um, I'm sorry, this isn't going to work in my world. Now I'm sure all parties involved have a memorized Power Point presentation that clearly outlines why they are right, who should be pointing the finger, who got more candy than everyone else just like they always do and how it isn't fair and blah blah blah money blah blah blah. I just want to laugh. Hard and every week at a scheduled time. So do whatever you have to do to kiss and make up. Like, now.
Strikes ruin everything. Baseball will never be the same to me. I'm still trying to get back into hockey. Ok, so I don't hold a grudge against my postal service, but c'mon people, don't eff with The Office. Or 24. Grow up and talk to each other like real people are forced to do every day and work it out. Soon. Okay? Okay?
Lovingly,
mandolyn 29 Oktober An Open Letter To Tony Romo.Dear Tony Romo,
I like you. You are the quarterback of my Dallas Cowboys. You are talented and hunky. You were behind me in the tollbooth lane once and I almost passed out. You seem like a lot of fun, what with your getting loaded and singing Journey on stage with Mr. Belding. You date Jessica Simpson, Carrie Underwood and Sophia Bush. None of that bothers me, because the Cowboys are 6-1 and you seem focused.
Until now.
Until this.
Until Britney.
She is a nightmare. A walking, panti-less, whirling dervish nightmare of hair extensions and Frappacino. A black hole of suck. I'll bet her bra reads like a petri dish. What I'm trying to say is - stay away. At best, she'll run over your foot. At worst, she'll marry you. That will not make Jerry Jones happy. Or TO happy. Or me happy. I need your head in the game, not swiveling around, wondering when she's gonna hit you with an umbrella.
Now. Let's look ahead. Philadelphia on Sunday night. Gotta whup up on some Donovan.
Glad we had this talk.
Love,
Klem
05 Oktober Thanks, Mandolyn.After I e-mailed a very lengthy complaint to Mandolyn about work, this past weekend and my car, this was the response I got:
I will have lunch with whatever Klem I can get. I’ll listen to you tell me all about the crap that’s going on if you want to and even agree with you defiantly if you so wish. And you can ALWAYS hold my baby.
See that? That is FRIENDSHIP. No questions, just support. That is why She. Is. Awesome.
Also, this is after she just asked me one simple question, that really nothing to do with my current mental state. I just decided to e-mail rant like crazy.
I am lucky. Everyone should have a friend like that. With a baby as beautiful, to boot.
The world would be a lot better.
Thanks, Mandolyn.
: Klem
13 September It's A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (An Open Letter)Dear Klem,
Happy, happy, happy birthday!
I'm thrilled that you aren't spending it at the office. That was a particularly wise choice. I hope you take some time to find a good slice of chocolate cake (a lovely cupcake will do) while you're off having fun in the big city with Mr. Klem. Here's to many more happy birthdays (and lots of happy regular days, too). We'll properly celebrate over some chicken sandwiches and waffle fries (or whatever you choose) soon!
Love you, Friend!
Mandolyn
04 September The Dog Ate My Excuses.Since Mandolyn left (escaped?) our shared corporate world, our shared blog space has been less work related and more life centered. And unfortunately, less frequent, something I'm working on remedying.
But today, this entry is full throttle about my amusement/discontent with my current job. But first, a little background. During M's leave, our company was sold. We're still the same place, same name, but our parent company is different. Also, our building hours have changed. Now, we leave at 5:30 instead of 5:00. Does it suck? Absolutely. I live 10 miles from The Office, but because of the half-hour difference my commute has increased by 25 minutes. I hate it even further. Pun! Rock me!
But one person in our office is not taking this lying down. This person has developed a system of intricate reasons/excuses to leave early at least 2 days a week. Considering she is my direct boss, I notice. Hell, it's a department of 8, everyone notices. But as the reasons/excuses get more and more ridiculous, and I get more and more irritated as she's leaving early, I thought I'd throw them out for everyone to see:
1. I need to pick up my dog from the groomer's.
2. The air conditioning went out in my rent car.
3. There's a soccer game at the park by my house and traffic's going to be rough.
4. I have a hair cut.
5. My child is sick. (point to note - her babysitter is across the street from her house and has no other children)
6. My nanny's dog is sick. (this was today - I'm still confused by it)
7. If I don't leave early, my nanny will put my baby out on the street. (nebulous, but effective, used once a week)
(And OMG - sidenote - someone just stopped by my office and said "T's not gone for the day, is she?" Oh yes. Yes, she is.)
Yes, I sound like a total bitch, but sometimes she leaves an hour early, after coming in late and taking an hour lunch. And it's not like we all don't have things we'd like to do. I too enjoy getting haircuts.
Have I mentioned I need a new job? And perhaps some sympathy.
: Klem
30 August I knew I should have added a little more flour.Or possibly a bucketful.
So far, I'm digging this Stay At Home Mom thing from the 1950's. Obviously, I love being able to stare at my darling* child any moment I choose. It's pretty nice having the time to take care of things around the house so that it doesn't look like a tornado ravaged it with a Mack truck that it picked up from the nearby highway. I can actually make preparations the dinner that I think about at 2pm. I can vacuum cat hair and clean up doggy wizzle more than twice a month. I can wear clean clothes that weren't frantically washed the night before and still partially damp. My plants aren't in a constant state of Wilt. Hell, even the fish are getting fed consistently. It's pretty awesome.
Apparently I should leave all the cookie-making to Klem. Seriously. Her cookies are gorgeous. They've been artfully photographed. And they are as delicious as they look. She's told me her secret before, but I have yet to recreate her magic. I attempted to make Oatmeal Raisin Cookies! (my favorite, hence the capital letters and mid-sentence punctuation) this afternoon. I added some chocolate chips, let's not get stupid. And they taste pretty good. The problem lies in that "cookie" isn't exactly the appropriate noun for them. No, I made three dozen Oatmeal Raisin [Chocolate Chip] Gooey Mushy Globs! instead. No, it didn't stop me from licking the batter bowl clean. And the beaters.
*My darling child who sleeps through the night all the time. Except last night. She was in and out of sleep all night long. It was...hmm. Unrefreshing. Today, I needed cookies. Or globs. Whatever. 27 August I'll skip the pepper, thanks.I realize that I've only been at the whole parenting thing for 3 months and can hardly be referred to as an expert, but I'm pretty sure that I won the blue ribbon at Wendy's on Saturday night, possibly by default alone.
The whole Wendy's experience was wheels-off from the start, really. It's a new location and they were training someone in the burger making assembly line at 6pm on Saturday evening. It took approximately 15 minutes for us to place our order (we were second in line) and another 10 to get a tray of what they thought we should have. Apparently Bored Cashier took a look at my ass and decided that I'd better just go with a chicken sandwich. Hell, after the wait, who was I to argue? Whatever. I showed her anyway. I got a large combo only to get the collectable Cowboys cup.
So anyway, the baby and I settled into a booth while Mr. Mandolyn waited (and waited) for our food and Captain Really Awesome Parenting Skills stormed in with the Children of Mass Destruction (all under age 5 for sure). Once he corralled the CMDs in a booth and said, "you boys sit here while Daddy goes right there and gets some food..." it was over. Within seconds, the CMDs were screaming and squealing and finding furniture parts that made slamming noises when dropped. They were running around, in and out of the bathroom ("Daddy, we turned the fan on!") All the other patrons instantly made casual eye contact and formed a secret bond with the Knowing Glance. CRAPS did little to quiet the storm. Oh sure, he called out the occasional, "CMD #1, tell your brother to stop that." "I said go sit down." "Hey, don't climb on that." "I said go sit down." "Sit down." This dude was in control. Hey man, maybe the drive-through is for you.
But the real deal-sealer was when I looked over and saw the older brother take a pepper shaker away from his sibling who was LICKING THE TOP. Older CMD took the shaker, made a move to set it on the next table, and hesitated just long enough to LICK THE PEPPER SHAKER himself, too. I almost lost it. I became obsessed with the tainted shakers. When CRAPS got the food (after a good 15 minutes of pure chaos) he and the CMDs sat at another table, leaving behind a group of at least three LICKED shakers. Licked. The tops. Seriously.
As we left, I attempted to casually collect the CONTAMINATED pepper shakers and took them to Bored Cashier and explained that I'd seen several kids lick them. I said that I figured they would rather throw them away then leave them out. She looked at me like I had spoken French, had three heads and forgotten to wear pants. Whatever, three licked pepper shakers down. You're welcome. 20 August Burn in Hell, Ron Mexico.There are no words to aptly describe the brutality of dog fighting.
To see exactly the gutter trash that is involved, watch the HBO Real Sports. If you can stomach it. I can't. Or for some dog fighting lite, hustle over to www.wwtdd.com and scroll down past the Jennifer Aniston story and look at the picture. But please, don't let a child see it. It's vile, violent and horrible. Just like Michael Vick.
I don't know what Vick can do to redeem himself. He lied to Arthur Blanks, his fans, the NFL, said he was going to clear his name. He knew he was a liar, a torturer, animal sadist all along. This isn't a race issue, this is a cruelty issue. If Peyton Manning did this, I would want his head on a spit.
I don't want the PR spin, his apologies, his promises to make it up to those he's offended. What about the dogs he electrocuted, hung and buried? It's a sick life, a sick ending, a sick taste in my mouth.
Forgiveness is too far away.
: Klem 31 Juli I have a big foam finger right here for you, David Beckham.I have tickets for the FC Dallas Vs LA Galaxy match tonight.
David Beckham will not be in attendance.
I bought these tickets five months ago. FIVE.
Right now, if somebody wanted to measure my rage, I'd go ahead and list it as HIGH. My blood pressure is also hovering there.
I can't discuss.
: Klem
26 Juli An Explanation For The Next Person Who Asks Me If I'm Sending Out Birth AnnouncementsEnvelope Makers, meet 4x6 photo. Photo, meet the Envelope Makers. There. Was that so hard? 4x6 photos are not specialty sized. They aren't especially unusual. It is comprehensible that one might like to send a 4x6 photo (or baby announcement, ahem.) in the mail without having to embark upon a scavenger hunt through retails stores and the Internet. Seriously. Am I taking crazy pills? The only place I have been able to find envelopes designed to attractively accommodate 4x6 photos are online and expensive, making the fact that I designed and printed my own baby announcements in part to save money completely pointless.
So, Envelope Makers, you've now made my life more difficult. A hearty congratulations to you. Last week, Mr. Mandolyn and I stood on a stationary aisle determined to come up with a solution. We refused to give in and special order envelopes online, but also didn't want to send out 4x6 announcements, swimming in any of the standard sized envelopes readily available to us. Half of the them were already printed on pre-cut 4x6 photo paper, and there was no way I was going to redesign it to fit a different size. These were desperate times. The solution? We bought half-fold sized envelopes and mounted each announcement onto a piece of textured colored cardstock (that fits the envelope) with photo corners. A teensy-bit ghetto? You betcha. We're just hoping it looks a little bit better than otherwise.
I was really hoping to get by without this much effort. Some of the textured cardstock colors don't really match...it's kind of a stretch. Whatever. But seriously, to the next person that tries to cleverly drop hints that my announcements are getting out kind of late, I'M WORKING ON IT. They will get out soon. Yes, before the child is enrolled in kindergarten, thank you. 25 Juli I admire your Mavs enthusiasm. Just not while driving.There is a time and place for large foam fingers. On your rear view mirror, while driving, is not one of them.
Consider, really, Chevy Malibu, as the the GIGANTIC FOAM FINGER WAS SWINGING WILDLY FROM SIDE TO SIDE BLOCKING YOUR VISION, could you see the road properly? Was it impairing your ability to signal? Obviously it was, because why else would you have cut me off doing 70 mph? Surely you aren't an idiot. Surely.
So please. Think before you hang another piece of spirited sports memorabilia (John 3:16 sign, clown wig) in your line of sight.
My blood pressure and the drivers of the Dallas North Tollway depend on it.
Love and Dirk,
: Klem 24 Juli The Leather Anniversary.Three years ago I walked down the aisle to say I do to the man of my dreams. I gotta say, it's worked out pretty well.
So, thanks Mr. Klem, for making the days brighter, the jokes wittier, my car cleaner and my life better.
My heart still smiles.
Love,
The Wife
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