Getting Corrected by an Eleven-year-old

"Do you like my spice rack?"

"I like your whole apartment!"

"Hey. It's a HOUSE, ok? I paid for it, it's a HOUUUUUUUUSE."

"it's a condo..."

A Chapter from The History of Allie

So for a little less than a year of my life, I lived in Washington, D.C. I was 7 or 8 years old, and it was the middle of the summer. We ran around going to fireworks for the fourth of July, did fun sightseeing things, and me and my sister followed my dad and his buddies walking around to bars. I'm sure it was adorable.

One night on a walk home to the garden house where we lived I found a checkbook in the street. This checkbook made me think I was Sherlock Freakin' Holmes. I opened the book, discovered the checks had a name and an address on them!! And mailed it, with a letter, back to that address. I also looked at the date of the last check written and it wasn't very long ago! Less than a month! So surely this person must be missing his checks! It was an address in some nearby state, so I figured maybe he was a work commuter, or came here on a short visit. I prayed that the address was still good (as I know now, my checks still have my address from two whole years ago on them, its obnoxious to update that, so it was good of me to worry) and that no one stole the checkbook out of the mail. I thought to myself "What a good thing that an honest person like me found those checks!"

Apparently the owner of the checkbook felt the same way. He sent me back a care package containing a book on Marines, a sticker, some brochures, and a story about how he works to bust foreign citizens who are smuggling drugs into the USA - "the scum of the earth!" - and a little ego boost about how honest, smart, and clever I was for such a young girl!

I think he wanted to subtly convince me to join the Marines someday. Sadly, he failed. I really wish I knew were that letter was. I think I might know. I'll look for it next time I go visit my boxes of childhood goodies.

The Woes of Growing Up

"Ew, you stink. Go take a shower!"

"And use soap this time!"

"Are you guys sure its not just my B.O.?"

"Um, B.O. is washable. With soap."

"I thought you could only get rid of B.O. with deodorant."

"Go get in the shower..."

A Day on Block Island

Rode over with the Cap'n in the wheelhouse! Did a whole little photo shoot of him, actually :)
Spent just enough time on the beach to not get sunburnt.
Realized the water was too cold to do anything in/with anyway.
Went fake-shopping (and realized the store that says "Home Made Fudge" painted on the front of the building is actually a mini-arcade...such a disappointment...)
And took the ferry home with 900 hormone-filled beach-bound high schoolers.

A Grand Little Party

My step-cousin Kaitlin's daughter turned a year old this weekend. Happy Birthday Claire!







She partied until she couldn't stand up on her own anymore. But since she's bad at napping she kept going like a little party zombie.

Able to Defy the Logic of a Six Year Old in a Single Bound!

Gwen tells her friends: "Allie ate 'booberries' when she was little. Mom told me."

Me: "Yeah, that was pretty silly. I had to get my stomach pumped. But how was I supposed to know they were the poisonous ones?"

6yo: "DON'T EAT BERRIES FROM OUTSIDE!"

Me: "BUT WE DIDN'T HAVE ANY INSIDE!"

Nine-year-old Back Seat Driver

"Allie, you're driving on the line....PICK A LANE, YA JERKFACE!"

Kids these days... And it was a curvy two-lane new england back road with pretty heavy traffic, in the rain, at night. One of those situations where you stay as far away from left-of-center as possible, because there was even a shoulder.

9-Year-Olds Leave The Best Voicemails

"awwww, Allie I wanted to talk to you! Congratulations and ask you how your first day of work went... Also, House is on right now!! At this moment! The time now is 8:06. Okkaaaayyy, Love you, byebye. Love you, byebye. Buh-bye, Love you! ...Love you. ...Bye."

"Hi, Allie! I wanted to tell you that when Bunny was still here, HE ATE MY HAT! There's little bite marks on it and everything. I love you. Ok, I love you byebye. Love you. Love you."

"Hi Allieeeee! [Something I can't understand] and Happy Valentine's Day 5 days early. And I had a FAIL at the CVS Shop today. I thought the van next to us that was blue was ours so I started yanking on the handle WILDLY! [incessant giggling] ...ohhh, I had a fail... A HARD fail. Yeah. Buh bye! I love you! Happy Early Valentine's day again. Bye. LOVEYOU!"

So That's What A Weekend Is For!

I forced myself out of bed at 7 this morning instead of oversleeping until 830 like I usually do, to realize that my legs were about as useful as a fart in a spacesuit (name that book. anyone? Bueller?). Maybe it was because of the extensive play I did with my two cousins on the musical staircase at the Museum of Science that we did after seeing a skydiving movie at the IMAX, or maybe it's the bruises I got from slipping and falling on a patch of ice then sliding under a parked car last week finally catching up with me, or maybe its from carrying that 60-lb box of textbooks from the storage closet in my apartment up to my new office, or MAYBE its the THREE HOURS of hard dancing I did yesterday afternoon while trying out for the MIT Dance Troupe. Yep, that's the one.

It all started about 3 months ago, when my roommate first learned that they were making one of her favorite books, He's Just Not That Into You into a movie. I forgot that it premiered this weekend, and I invited my two cousins up to visit. Clearly this movie, and the gin & tonic that apparently MUST accompany it are not of particular interest to 12- and 13-year-olds. So we go see the movie on opening night (Friday) so that I can pick up the kids on Saturday morning. Which means we have to leave our apartment at 8:15 pm to get in line to get good seats for the 10 pm showing. Suddenly, a 2 hour movie is now 5 hours long. But, as it happens, it was a fantastic movie, and I would recommend it to ANYONE.

Saturday morning, I received a phone call from my aunt, worried that 10:30 might be too late a meeting time for her to get back home and get to her afternoon work shift on time, so can I please leave in 15 minutes. Absolutely, I can! You're family and you won't care if I'm not wearing a bra and haven't brushed my teeth yet or showered in three days. But then? Waiting in the Burger King parking lot halfway between our two homes, when I tried to unlock my car to put the kids' bags in, I accidently lock it, keys inside. So now AAA gets to see me in my pajamas without brushed teeth at almost noon on a Saturday. Oops.

We get back to my apartment with just enough time to bring bags in and collect the 60 lb box of books and be on our way to the Dance Showcase. I'm just gonna throw this out there, but Nerdy Kids are gooooooooooooooood dancers. I am in way over my head. And I haven't even worked out in a year. And they all have better hair than me. Even the boys.

One parking ticket later, we were back home, and since I have a work computer and a personal computer now, both kids could play World of Warcraft at the same time. However, this meant I needed to hijack my boyfriend's account, since I only have one. We decided on an IMAX show (8 pm), I showered, took a nap, and then we took the train out to the Science Center. Kaiser failed immediately at the "keep standing up without holding onto anything while the train starts moving" game. We had more fun than a barrel of monkeys. And we all had Dippin' Dots! And were exhausted when we got home and shared a box of mac & cheese before crashing.

Sunday morning, I made waffles (read: thawed and served) for the kids, and roommate B had a friend staying for the weekend, so she was making (read: mixing, cooking, flipping) chocolate chip pancakes for her share of the apartment while we watched Spongebob Squarepants. Then I went back to MIT to die a death of dance.

It worked. I made three dances, even though Claudia said I looked bored during my audition. That was not bored, that was excessively tired... Worst possible practice schedule I could have gotten:
-Thursday 10-11 pm
-Saturday 2-4 pm
-Sunday 2-3 pm
I did NOT want to practice on weekends. I'm not a student. I'm a full time employee. Weekends are my ME time. But I'll give it a shot for a while and see how it goes... And maybe you can come see me perform (if I'm still alive) in May!

Right after the auditions, I drove 2 hours to give the kids back, and hurried home to watch my three requisite hours of House.

This morning I ran into a friend I haven't seen in about three years in the train station, which hasn't happened to me before in this city, and I'm emotionally prepping myself for a doctors appointment in an hour and a half which may or may not knock me out for two days. Weekend Fin. But the next one is three days long! And there's a Friday The 13th in there, too!

No, I Don't Have Better Things To Do

I just don't feel like posting every day anymore. I sleep probably 60% of most days, and follow my boy around being a doting girlfriend 20% of the time, and the other 20% I split between eating, applying for more jobs, showering, my photo projects, and catching up on 30Rock, Prison Break, and The Office. Note that I am still not working out.

The one fun story I have for you today is that on Saturday, my mom called and woke me up at noon to tell me that she wanted to come up to Boston for dinner and to see my apartment. I was in Hanover. In 3 hours, I loaded the car, took some pictures at Shop Day (DFR), and convinced Paul to come down, too, and skip out on his frat basement for the night. Farmer John has wanted to try out the Hilltop Steakhouse and Butchershop since his Thanksgiving trip to Texas last year where it was recommended to him and his love for red meat. We made it happen, and they brought the kids, too.

It was awesome. I had a filet because I can't eat more than 8 oz. of anything except chocolate at a time and I don't eat red meat very often anymore. We also demolished two onion blossoms and a bunch of IBC Root Beer. The highlights were the placemats - exceptionally thorough cartoons of how and where to slice your cow, and driving the 30 minutes from my apartment with two of us stuffed in the back of the minivan on the floor with sleeping bags because my mother had removed some of the seats.

Then the kids spent the night, and I let them (and Paul) stay up until 2 am playing World of Warcraft because I'm a terrible babysitter. We woke up around 10, which is exactly when we needed to leave to meet my mother halfway - in Worcester - to drop off the kids before taking my College Student back to school to study for his exam (today). I am embarrassed to admit that I actually said the words "If we don't leave NOW, you won't get Starbucks!!". We didn't leave then but they still got their Starbucks (see today's Daily Photo), and because I am my mother's daughter, she was even later than we were.

Maybe Its Time To Change The Channel

At my mom's house, there is only one places where one ever eats meals: the dining room table. Its a cozy little table, in the cozy little dining room right off the living room. The TV is sort of between the two on a swivel and pretty much is always on, if for nothing other than background noise.

My nine-year-old sister has a playroom in the basement (which is really in shambles and smells like the many pets we have which reside down there) with a TV. As enforced by my stepfather (whose youngest kid is almost 18), the basement TV is where the "kid shows" are played, and the living room TV pretty much stays on CSI or Law and Order. Gwen, being practically an only child, since the older kids are mostly moved out and hardly ever stay there, has a bit of an attention problem. If the TV is on, she stares at it, and forgets to chew her food. This was a problem for my stepfather, so she is made to sit with her back to the TV. This has been the case for about two years.

Now that the kid is a little older, she's getting more and more perceptive, even if she's not looking at what she hears or following the story detail for detail. Last week we had a family dinner at my uncle's house, and the kid found some sidewalk chalk. She asked my uncle, who was manning the grill, if she could use it. Side note: he said "Only if you don't get any on the driveway." There is no sidewalk in his neighborhood.

She drew these:That is a dead toucan, a dead cat cartoon character, and a family of dead whales.

And this last one, down right near the street, for all the neighbors to see. For this masterpiece, she dragged my stepdad outside to see, and told him "Look! I drew the guy from CSI: Miami!""He's laying in a pool of his own blood!"

Whac-A-Mole

A day in My Life At Home greatly resembles this game because I am the oldest of my Grandmother's 24 grand-children. Today, six of us and my aunt went to Lake Compounce - America's Oldest Theme Park! Pretty good, all things considered, especially for a mere hour's drive to roller coasters AND water park and free soda all day. And they had the Pirate Ship Ride. You can never go wrong with the Pirate Ship Ride. You can, however, go wrong with a Lazy River where you aren't allowed out of your tube, or in any position other than sitting up with your legs hanging out of the tube, and really, you can't even touch the walls or anyone else in the river without six lifeguard whistles blasting in your face.

After I told the kid who coated himself in powdered sugar that the bees were going to attack him, my aunt told him to "Go take a dump in the pool."
Because, obviously, dumping is what you do when you are either jumping or diving.

On our way to the pool, I hear "Don't play with your fat in public!" and find that the source for such shenanigans is again MY family. I decided this was a good opportunity to teach them to belly-bump in greeting, rather than handshake.

And then all 5 kids want to go on different rides and start running in different directions, and this is where the whac-a-mole analogy is really apparent for those untrained in Pre-Teen [ages 8-12] Control Tactics.

And later, at home, they're sitting in front of the TV so wholly absorbed in Halo 2 that the phrase "Somebody get me a paper towel; I drooled on the floor." merits almost no attention whatsoever other than an "alright, someone pause the game." But then, "going commando" merits giggling like a little girl.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Bad Hair Day

This is a photograph of a drawing of Yours Truly, as depicted by my cousin Claudia, age 12. My teeth are hideous.

But I mean...I think I look pretty good there for having just spent two weeks living off PB&Nutella sandwiches while aspiring young actors and actresses lather me in boogers and semi-washable marker and paint and comments like "My teacher isn't a pot smoker; she's a make-up smoker!" and other general kid-ness.

Obligatory "Intro to Camp" post

Another counselor asked me if I "knew" the piano today. I said no, because I was incapable of walking up to the piano and playing the songs that are played in the musical...She meant "Can you find the A key?"

So I play (on one hand) the intro to Ode to Joy and tell them that is the extent of my musical expertise.

A little 11-year-old girl suggests Hot Cross Buns. I start to play. I miss a note (or go the wrong way) and the sassy little sprite looks at me and says:

"Wow... That is the first time in my ENTIRE life I've heard someone mess up Hot Cross Buns."

I suppose I should just crawl into the cave I came from.