I've put up over 1000 designs in under two years! Check 'em out! Zazzle has some new styles of apparel and mugs. I really love the new frosted glass mugs and like my new snowman design on them. : )

Here's the link. Added so far today: another set of beads, two dishcloths. I have another dishcloth finished, and Bill and I made about 40 more beads, so those'll be listed eventually.

So for the longest time, my appetite was small enough that I wanted to order off the kids' menu. But that is frowned upon. I COULD NOT get a two-piece chicken dinner at a restaurant in Des Moines; I had to get a four-piece. By the time they came up with a two-piece meal, I was pregnant and needed a four-piece.
These days, there's a meal at Perkins I love. It consists of a lemon pepper chicken breast, rice, a dinner roll, and a potato served how the person chooses. But guess what: this meal is only on the 55+ menu. And they actually CALL me on this. There is no lemon pepper chicken on the menu for people under the age of 55. So I have four options: I can order something I don't like as well, I can go somewhere else, I can go with my mom and have her order my meal so we can trade, or I can order a chicken breast separately with lemon pepper and sides of rice, potato, and roll.
Am I the only one who thinks that's stupid?

So here's the story:

James Howe and his wife, Deborah, were inspired to write a book about a vampire rabbit. So they wrote a book about a cat, a dog, and a vampire rabbit.
In 1978, Debbie died of cancer. I don't know if she saw the book published or not.
Time went by. James Howe wrote sequels and other books. I bought every book I could find that he'd written. Morgan's Zoo. Teddy Bear's Scrapbook. A Night Without Stars. What Eric Knew. I read Bunnicula over and over by the window on stormy days till my fingers had stained most of the pages with pretzel dust.
James remarried. He wrote books with his second wife, and they had a daughter.
Then, a few years ago, James came out of the closet. Imagine what it's like to make that brave a move. Imagine the guts it takes to say you're gay when you have a family, not to mention a readership largely made up of children.
He's written books about tolerance. He's started programs about tolerance and how much words and bullying can hurt.
So we went to see him, and I was expecting a guy who was maybe 5'7", soft-spoken, constantly adjusting his glasses as he looked out at us.
Instead, in walked this man who was 6'2" and sharply dressed, with an air of confidence that was completely unmarred by the ever-so-slight slump of his shoulders. He was silly and entertaining without losing a grain of dignity.
This man who didn't fidget, this man with a sense of humor and a strong steady gaze, told us about what he'd been through. He talked about people's quirks without judging them. He suggested that we could live in an accepting society, that explaining to our children that everyone is individually fantastic and should be treated as such could help.
Is he being realistic? Probably not. Saying a problem won't be tolerated doesn't make it go away. Saying "accept each other" doesn't mean it will happen. Some parents are never going to care enough to explain that everyone should be loved and respected. And I think we're all guilty of judging people. But someone out there is trying. Someone strong and beautiful and kind and warm and respectful and patient. And he's not doing it in the name of religion or anything other than basic human decency.
He's a lot more admirable than I am. And I deeply respect that.
He even took the time to say something really, really nice about my son. And to give me a hug. He's just a nice guy.

Yes, I've joined the ranks of "Here's a picture of me with X celebrity" people.
James Howe was one of the first people I remember wanting to be like professionally. He wrote mysteries starring cats, dogs, and bunnies; what job could be cooler than that?
So last night I met the guy and gave him a deck of Authors cards we made. If you've never played Authors, you should sometime. It's great fun. Anyway, my mom and I always wanted to make our own deck, and we finally got it done (with a LOT of help from Bill!). We made a deck for me and one for James; we'll do another for Mom when we have time.
James gave a talk about The Misfits at a library, and then he moved on to a cafe for autographs. I had him sign a book for me and one for my son. James (I hesitate to call him Jim!) and the kiddo seemed to like each other pretty well, by the way.
It was a fun night. My son was extremely patient, my mom was excited about the new no-bullying law, and my husband was very helpful in making the experience go off without a hitch. It was fun to see the star-struck kids, too. They were trying to conceal their excitement even more than I was. I could imagine what it would've been like for me to see James Howe in person when I was a kid. . .and if you see my 10-year-old self, just try telling her she'll get a hug from him someday. She won't believe you.

Sadly, it's gotten even worse since this article was written. Elmo now sucks up half an hour. Where is the shark who sings about his pearly whites? That was my favorite segment, and I can now only find it on YouTube in Dutch. It's just not the same. Sesame Street has no content. My mom asked if my son likes Snuffy and I had to say, "He hasn't really seen Snuffy; Snuffy's rarely on." I did get Big Bird in China and Big Bird in Japan on DVD for my son. . .which means that now, whenever he sees Big Bird on Sesame Street, he asks where Barkley is. And. . .I just don't know where Barkley is. I just don't know.
I did notice, a couple weeks ago, that Bob has a picture of Mr. Hooper up in his apartment. It's like the last loving salute to the past. Where will we be when Bob and Big Bird and Bert and Ernie and Cookie Monster fade into memory?
http://www.flakmag.com/tv/sesame.html

Maybe I'm behind the times. I know this stuff isn't new. But I finally picked up an Endangered Species bar at Target. This one happened to be an Organic Smooth Dark Chocolate bar. 70% cocoa. So, to begin with, it's organic and full of antioxidants. Good for me. The outer wrapper is printed on recycled paper. 10% of the profits go to support wildlife/habitat. The cocoa is grown in the shade of rain forests so that the forests are "useful" and nobody feels the need to clear them. Plus, the cocoa is ethically traded so the farmers get a good price.
How did the thing taste? Good initially, then with a kind of aftertaste that made me think of cigarettes. The aftertaste lasted about a minute and then was replaced by a more pleasant aftertaste.
Hy-Vee has the Endangered Species bars too, and you can get them online at chocolatebar.com.
I also like clicking & shopping @ therainforestsite.com and its associates.

When I think about teachers, I'm really scared for my son's future.
I've had some very good ones--don't get me wrong. But some of my really bad ones make me think it's going to be hard for me not to act if the kiddo gets stuck with similar ones.
In first grade I had Mrs. Berggren. I remember a time when I had an ear infection and she wouldn't believe me, so I suffered all day until it was time for Brownies. At Brownies I hid in a corner of the gym, trying not to cry, till someone found me and asked what was wrong. Also, one time during recess in the gym, someone ran into me. I was trying to recover when the other first-grade teacher asked me what was wrong. I wouldn't say anything because I knew I'd cry if I did, and then Mrs. Bergreen chewed me out in front of the whole class and I did cry. Another time, John Paul Bryant wouldn't stop talking to me in class (I think he had a crush on me). I finally lost patience and turned around to tell him to shut up, and Mrs. Berggren made me turn my desk around for the rest of the day. I was utterly humiliated. I wasn't the only one she was mean to. It was Sarah Underhill's pretend birthday one day (her birthday was in August, so we celebrated at a different time), and we were in reading class. If you lost your place in reading, you had to go sit in the hall. Our superintendent came in, and the teacher stopped class to talk to him. After he left, it was Sarah's turn to read. She was off by one sentence, and she had to go sit in the hall. Also, my mom says that Mrs. Berggren would put sad faces on worksheets where all the answers were right because she didn't approve of my handwriting.
Then there was Mrs. Niederhauser. . .she said dinosaurs were okay for little kids, but that we were too old for them. She didn't believe dinosaurs were real. She said scientists invented them to make money. Also, she had a college-age daughter named Carrie who scared us all a lot. She had lots of cartilage piercings and was supposedly in the military. She came on Halloween as the Grim Reaper, and nobody told us it was Carrie. They thought that would be funny. We THOUGHT it was Carrie, but we weren't sure. Amy Mangum also claimed that Mrs. Niederhauser had told her she didn't believe in Santa, and Sarah Wolken (a note: I could be spelling a lot of these names incorrectly) said Carrie told her which students they liked and didn't like.
In college I had a prof named Dr. Davis. I swear she was doing psychological experiments on us. She made us all sit around the outer seats of the classroom, meaning that I couldn't lift my arm without elbowing someone. And one day someone didn't hear something she said, so I repeated it to the person. Dr. Davis lectured me in front of the class like I was in first grade all over again. Not an acceptable way to treat anyone.
My friend Allison broke her arm in school one day. Her teacher said it was fine and wouldn't send her home. I think that takes the Bad Teacher Award.
What if someone treats my son this way? I know that calling to complain is likely to just make things worse for him. . .
Anybody else have horrible-teacher stories?

We have purchased 0 bird feeders (except a couple disposable thistle ones, back in the day).
We have 5.
Bill's sister and her husband got us a seed feeder; my parents got us a thistle feeder; my mom got us a hummingbird feeder and an oriole feeder; my father got us a suet feeder.
Maybe they should start getting us birdseed. ; )
We sure attract a lot of awesome birdies, though. : D