It’s Friday, Do You Know Where Your Harvey Wallbanger Is

I’ve never had one, but it sounds strong enough to make your head numb before you start banging it against the wall.

Here’s the recipe in case you need one:

1.25 oz vodka
0.25 oz hazelnut liqueur
3 oz orange juice
1 slice orange
In a glass with ice, add vodka and orange juice.
Stir and float liqueur on top.  Garnish with orange slice.
 
Good luck.  Let me know if it works.
 
Have a great night 🙂

When Outsourcing is Good

Well, since Camping screwed up on the date again and we’re all still here (although the day’s not over), I guess we’ll have to keep on trucking with this whole survival thing. 

“Survival” in the U.S. these days seems a bit more of a struggle than, say, back in the 1980’s when I used to roll out of Gekko’s penthouse, throw some frilly underwear over my clothes, air out my armpits under the bus stop hand dryer and “get into the groove” with all the other Working Girls in Manhattan (no, wait, did I work in Manhattan in the eighties….can’t remember….30 years ago….too fuzzy….)  Anyway, 2011’s version of hanging out on Wall Street is certainly a horse of a different color.  Can’t say that I plan on “Occupy”ing any Tea Parties any time soon, but I do totally catch their drift of frustration.  Our family is broke and in debt.  My husband and I are working, but eating peanut butter for breakfast, because, C’mon!  $5 for a jug of milk?  $7 for a slab of bacon?  Have you tried turkey bacon?!??  But, rather than camp out in protest (sorry, ever since working the Faires, I’ve had an aversion to bunking with unwashed Rennies full of dragon piss), we’ve chosen to constructively focus our frustration into a win-win patriotic form of outsourcing.

Oh yeah, I said it, the dirty word that causes the pockets of American IT workers to shiver in terror.  But, repeat after me, “Outsourcing is Good.  Outsourcing Works.” — when another country is outsourcing to us.  In our particular case, our nouveau riche South Korean buddies are shipping over their kids and paying us to watch them.

Yes, South Koreans actually seem to like us and trust us enough to belabor their precious accomplished, multi-lingual, well-behaved offspring with our unhealthy, greedy capitalistic, ugly American customs.

Awww, gosh.  We kinda like them too.

As I’ve mentioned, this is a win-win situation.  The area of South Korea is only 38,622 square miles with a population of 48 million people.  In order to give their kids a leg-up in this heavily competitive market, S.Korean parents send them to private schools in other countries where they can pick up different languages and customs and benefit from a more well-rounded education.  On our end, struggling private schools are now using “foreign aid” by signing up with agencies that import eager students from Korea, China and other countries; and  American middle-classed families provide these students with room and board so they can hold on to their homes.

I’d discovered this opportunity in Craig’s List of all places.  In the past few years we’ve hosted three kids through different agencies, one girl and two boys, all teenagers.  And, yes, you have to question the sanity of someone who would voluntarily invite more teenagers into their home. 

Some of them do eat a lot.

But they’ve been great, actually.  It’s been a terrific experience so far, and I plan on happily sharing stories about them in some of my future blogs.

Najung-e

What am I doing awake

Lately, my eyes have been popping open about 3:30 a.m.  Could be from my husband’s snoring (which will be another blog I’m sure everyone will be anxious to read), or pre-menopause (I’m learning to blame all ridiculous behavior on hormones).  Naturally, my brain doesn’t focus on all the wonderful things going on in my life and would rather fixate on issues that I can’t do anything about at 3:30 in the morning!  A good Christian would probably pray the worries away (Jesus doesn’t like us to worry).  Instead, I’m choosing to share the misery (because it loves company, right?)

We adopted a dog named, Becca, a few months ago.  She’s naughty. 

She’s also stinkin’ cute, lots of fun and a very fast runner (I’m counting on her to up my PR).  She’s a southern dog, who hails from Kentucky.  Part lab and part feist, a breed that LOVES to chase squirrels.  The squirrels are driving her nuts right now with all their pre-winter activities (sorry for the bad pun).  (Have you noticed I use a lot of parentheses when I write in the wee hours of the morning?  How annoying is that?!)  So what am I doing sitting up worrying about my dog in the middle of the night while she sleeps peacefully curled up on the sofa?  I’m trying to figure out what to do about her FLEAS, Aaarrrghhhhhh!

Let me preface this dilemma with a discourse questioning WHY bugs were created!?!?:

Ok, I know they’re arachnids and technically in a class by themselves, but Why Spiders?!  I know they eat other bugs, and I liked Charlotte’s Web and all, but they creep me out, and they bite you, and some are poisonous.  I have a long history of disliking spiders starting with bugging (another bad pun, sorry) my parents in the middle of the night to get rid of the big hairy critter staring at me from my pepto-pink bedroom wall.  I did try to face my fear of them by ordering a tarantula when I worked at a pet shop.  Ends up that I was allergic to it and broke out in a rash even when I held it with a rubber glove – Ha!  Since ticks are also arachnids, I have to wonder about their existence.  They suck your blood and spread disease.  Does anything eat ticks?  I have to question the food chain theory.

Head lice!!  What the?!?!?  No, they’re not dangerous.  But they’re itchy and annoying.  And they keep your kids out of school.  And make you cut everyone’s hair and hate mayonnaise.  My poor daughter got them one year right before school started.  She missed her first two weeks of school because the nurse kept finding nits even after we treated her twice, combed through her hair every day, cut it short and even got a note from the doctor stating that she was in the clear.  I can’t blame Easter Seals for being too careful because they do have medically compromised kids to worry about (My daughter has cerebral palsy and used to go there.  She now attends a public elementary school.)  I can, however, blame the Chuck E. Cheese ball pit for getting them in the first place.

Fleas!?!?!  They are making our poor dog miserable.  And we’ve tried everything.  I comb through her every day, which is no easy task because her fur is bristly and very short.  I’ve given her showers, which she hates – I’ve never known a dog to hate water so much.  Tried the natural method of eucalyptus leaves and organic herbal spray etc.  We only have two rugs which I vacuum every day and sprinkled with Borax.  Tried Frontline Plus several times.  Thinking about trying Advantage.  Unfortunately, it looks like we’re also going to have to hire an exterminator to bomb the place.  These stupid little bugs are getting way too expensive!

I’m open to any suggestions…

Of course, now I’m tired.  And it’s time to get up.

Why Old and Fuzzy

Hi!  My name’s Niki, and I’m 46 years old.  Is 46 old?  It’s all in perspective.  And, sorry, mine’s a bit warped.  Ask my kids, though, and they’ll tell you I’m ancient.

I guess, technically, I’m middle-aged (but what if I don’t live until I’m 92??).  I could come up with a blog called “Midlife Isis,” but I’m not a goddess, so…

And the “fuzzy” part?  How about blurred vision, an addled brain, and chin hairs that pop up faster than a game of Whac-a-Mole.  Oh yeah, I’m all about fuzzy.

If you’re really, really, really, really, really bored or just slightly psychotic, dump some Kahlua in your coffee and Google “old and fuzzy.”  Here are some catch phrases I’ve found:  “…the wig looked used, old and fuzzy…,” “old and fuzzy f words…,” “Fighting Fuzz Balls: How to Breathe Life into old (and fuzzy),” “My antennaes are old and fuzzy…,” (huh?), “…were they old and fuzzy or pre-raisin?” (ewww).  And, my favorite – “Google’s view of D.C….old and fuzzy.”

I love my blog name.