What would a Monday be without a Super Bowl post-game wrap-up by Sir Groovy Mom? I just don’t know. (I like “Sir” as an English title, leave me alone)

Yes, we watched the game. Me and three of the boys. Frank had to take the eldest of the boy freaks to Milwaukee for a soccer training, missing a good half of the game. Soccer training during the pinnacle of American football!!? Say it isn’t so, well it IS so, the snobbish wankers.

Me, still not feeling so well–

(I ran a temp of 102 for a day or so after my stoopid yeast-cleanse, felt like crap, mom said “Sounds like flu!!” and am still not feeling 100%. Now, though, it is more of foggy-head, sinus crapola.)

– camped out on the couch most of the day, watching Super Bowl pre-game stuff during the Mrs. Doubtfire commercial breaks. I did take Pheenie to work and made one lap around the store, picking up some photos, grabbing Hot Cheetoes for the boys (is it really CheeTOES, like feet/toes ?? I’m too lazy to check), soda, began to feel dizzy and sweaty, so I grabbed some hot-n-ready fried cheese curds (for medicinal purposes only, silly!!), and checked out.

Lootie’s been rooting for the Giants, even when they were up against the ‘Cheese, and had a not-so-good feeling that they were going to get whomped this time around. Die-hard fan he is, save for a split second where (something) happened in the game and he told the team they were “Sucky” for one reason or another. He quickly retracted, though, with an apologetic chin nod and continued his supportive cheering. At that last two minutes when that darn Moss caught the ball and Lootie’s mother (Sir Groovy Mom) declared it was OVER, she was shot daggers. We were held prisoner in our own home by a 10-year-old, forced to “Clap!!!” when NY got the ball, “CLAP!!!” to show our support (two boys did not clap, seeing as they are NE fans). It was Peter Pan for the sports fan: Do you believe in Giants ?? Then CLAP, by golly. Clap!!

(Lootie leading the clap with Sal in the background - Picasa)

A few post-game observations:

1.) I’ve enjoyed the robot that’s been warming up on the screen during these NFL games. Each time it jumped around I was entranced. Had no idea it was a Terminator.

2.) Driving while feeling fluish can be quite a silly adventure. Ask me how many times I almost raised our insurance during my drive (too many to not be ashamed of).

3.) I think I’d like to be a pro NFL player, gritty and dirty with sweat, dirt and grass, fartin’ it up on the field. Looks like fun. Just… for like an hour, or something though.

4.) I sometimes get the game play confused with a video game. It looks surreal from some of the camera angles.

5.) With a birthday in less than a week, my job is to locate a Eli Manning New York Giants Super Bowl XLII Jersey for Lootie. There’s one here
but it is for menfolk. I’m looking for one that’s a bit smaller. I bought him one that was 18/20 (bought big to last more than a day) for Christmas from that company — great service, would definitely use them again.

I’m a self-diagnosed hypochondriac. I think I’ve mentioned that before. Google is my friend and my foe.

After Googling for nearly a year, and reading up on Candida (there’s a million links for this, that’s just one of them — here’s another), I pinpointed that as possibly one of my “issues.” I’ve been taking acidophilus for over a year, trying to restore some balance to my system, but thought maybe I needed to take a bit of a stronger approach.

Took myself to Whole Foods, stared at the different oils. I initially went there for some oregano oil, but then realized they had a slew of different products specifically related to yeast cleansing, wouldn’tcha know? I talked with the nice lady there who was very knowledgeable and patient. We narrowed my purchase down to two different yeast cleansers. I went with this one: Solaray Yeast-Cleanse .

In retrospect I don’t know how on earth I ended up buying this stuff, considering I went in there for oregano oil, NOT a yeast-cleanse and I have a hard time taking nearly any medication without reading up on it to exhaustion. Hmm.

Anyway, I opened the bottle and took 3 pills in the car. Again, not sure how (why??) I did that without even coming home and Googling “Solaray Yeast-Cleanse” first.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I was so cold. Would doze off… or did I? Couldn’t tell. Woke up feeling like total crap. Dizzy, headache, chills. I knew about the “die-off” effect with candida treatments and chalked that up to a possibility and tried to soldier through it. Went to work. Felt like a space-cadet and definitely felt like I was coming down with the flu. Started to wonder what kind of moron would take pills that would cause their body to have the flu.

Left work, came home and flopped on the couch. Slept off and on until evening with chills, nausea and a broken ego. Called Whole Foods and chatted with the kind and patient lady again. She said it is hard to discern. Being flu season I could just simply (and coincidentally) have the flu. But I could also have “die-off.” She said she felt like she was on the brink of the flu as well and after work would be going home to take care of herself. It was decided I would stop the yeast cleanse for a few days and see how I felt.

My mom, a phlebotomist (and the woman who gets to hear about my medical rantings) but not much of an “herb/holistic” person, and generally a pretty calm and quiet lady, told me I was basically a moron for taking “unregulated” herbs like that. No, she didn’t think I’d die from it (one of my many questions), but I should stop taking it. “Nobody regulates that stuff, you know? That’s why people in the medical profession warn against it. Is there anything on the Mayo Clinic’s site, or a reputable site about yeast and cleansing?”

Sigh. No. But tons of people blog about it. Forums… personal testimonials..? Nope. Not good enough for my mom.

I went to bed with the chills again and a temp of nearly 102. Today my temperature is down and I’m sweating. And I took off work. I haven’t taken any yeast-cleanse pills since that first day. And I still don’t know if I have the flu or “die-off.”

The boys did a wrestling tournament last weekend. Have you ever been to a wrestling tournament? They’re exhausting. They really are. Exciting, fun… but exhausting. Last year Lootie was the only one wrestling. I think we went to three or more tourneys. There was a lot of “downtime” waiting for each match, but we’d rest, eat, spectate… just waiting for his next match. This year, all four boys are wrestling. Downtime isn’t so much of a problem anymore. Being at the mat during simultaneous matches is now the big issue.

The first tournament Frank was with off and able to attend. This made things much, much easier because I knew that if I wasn’t at the mat (with one of the boys), he was. I got to see most of the matches (it worked out that way), but missed two of DT’s (the oldest). After the meet was over, Frank and I were pretty well exhausted from cheering, running and dehydration (we both forgot to drink, I guess — the upside of dehydration is the minimal potty breaks, woohoo!!).

I got a good amount of video, but not too many pictures. Here’s one, Franny (the smallest):

(click any for larger)

Franny had a super old-school singlet on for the first tournament. The club had run out of the small singlets, save this one from the 1980s. Leave it to my child to take it. And wear it. Even though his older brothers told him how pansy it looked, he stayed strong and wore that singlet like nobody’s bidness.

After the tourney was over, and all the boys had their medals, their loving father requested one more thing: group picture of coarse!! Evident in the pictures to follow, the twins were eager to pose, the elder two ready to go home.

First photo, all is well and tolerated.

Second photo, “Do a wrestling pose,” says dad. Older boys attention already waning.

Third photo, one last “Grrrrrr” for the camera now. Look at Lootie’s wide-eyed expression. Know where he got that face from? His momma. I’ve been caught doing it many, many times on family videos.

Oldest to youngest: (L-R) Tough guy. Wrestle-mania fan. Trying not to smile. Attempting some form of hand/finger coolness but not knowing what exactly to do with them.

The following weekend I was alone, Frank at work. It was chaotic but fun. I didn’t see any of DT’s matches, only parts of Looties, but all of the twins (nearly missing Sal’s last match). I felt it most important for the little guys to see me in their corner. Still, though, I felt bad for Lootie who is only 2 years older than the twins and had to face the mat alone with nobody, not even a coach. He didn’t complain, though, not once.

. . .

I started another scarf. I say “another” because now I have two going. One is green and frilly, the other is striped and not-so-frilly. Both are not holding my attention, though, and I fear I will be starting another scarf here and have three in my rotation.

They call her the Hinna-Hin.

Years ago I collected Anne Geddes dolls. Just… don’t ask. My past obsessive-collecting of these dolls and the non-existence of that collection now is a prime example of (things) that seem soooo dang important, not being important.

My collection and collecting of these dolls, sunflower baby, rabbit baby, etc., came to a screeching halt when Sal, the younger of the twins, was a toddler. He flat out wouldn’t go near them. The choice between cuddling up with a rabid animal, frothing at the mouth, and an Anne Geddes doll would have been painful.

I tried to unload them at a garage sale, practically giving them away. One kind lady fell in love with a couple remaining dolls and I gave them to her at a mercy price, thankful to her for getting them out of my house.

The rabbit/Hinna-Hin remained.

Frank threw Hinna-Hin in the trunk of his car to take to the dumpster. But time went by and he forgot to dispose of her, and one day, as we were driving, Franny (the other twin), reached into the trunk (we have back seats you can pull down and access the trunk) and laughed. “Guess what’s in here Sal?!!” He pulled her out. An older (8-year-old) Sal wasn’t scared, but had refined his reaction, now conveying repulsion. They giggled and laughed about the Hinna-Hin, setting it in the seat, mimicking Twilight Zone doll who could not be killed. Sal was a good sport, and though he laughed, I could tell he still did not like the doll.

Recently, somehow, the oil-stained creature has made it back into our home. Sal will touch her, but only to move her far away from him. He can talk and laugh about the Hinna’, but keeps a steady eye on her with that curious fear we all get sometimes with things that ook us out, but we can’t help to steal a glance.

I realize it would only be customary to have one of those sappy, look here he is as a baby and here he is now entries for Dants, as he turns 14 today. But… I haven’t the energy. I’ll save that for a cheery disposition, and cake-cutting skills later. He already has his gift (a new snowboard — my goodness those things are pricey), so I’ve nothing else to do but be kind and try not to look as exhausted as I feel. He doesn’t like parties or big fusses over him (another inherited gene from his dad) on his birthday, but he won’t object to gifts, of coarse!!

. . .

Well, I done shot all my high expectations of daily posts all to heck, didn’t I? With Christmas and birthday and work and some personal crap that I’m too tired to discuss — I skipped some entries.

The world stopped, but only for a second. Did you notice?

Shooot. Hardly.

. . .

Work is very busy, being newsletter week plus bulletins for Christmas, Christmas Eve and the regular service. I was on the receiving end of some delicious yummies (bars and breads), and… yeah. It hit the spot and perked the day up. The little things, I tell ya. Another perky-perkmaker is my Sigg.

I chose the SIGG “Maharadsha Turquoise” one after numerous visits to the display rack located inside Whole Foods. For many months I’ve eyed up the bottles, fondled them, fantasized about them (would I like it, would I not… would they be hard to drink from, do I get the flip top or the ringed top… what cooooolor should/would I get if I got one… would it fit in my cupholder in the van… would it fit in my purse… would the kids like it… is the inside coating poisonous — just the regular questions, you know), and then walking right on past them to the olive bar. Finally, yesterday, I did it. I bought one.I take a bottle of water to work each day. Normally I’d take my water jug, but it broke months ago. Probably about the time I started fantasizing about the SIGGS. I have spent well over the $20 investment cost of a new SIGG. What was I waiting for? It was either buy the bottle, or pick up yet another case bottled water.

Hooray for me. I like my shiny new bottle. I took it to wrestling practice last night (the boy’s practice, not me wrestling, you silly thing) and the boys all drank out of it, refilling it twice. That’s about $5 in water bottles right there. Took it to work today. Another buck or so. I’d like to get another bottle or two and maybe some extra caps (probably a sport top). They have all kinds of stuff you can get, different styles, bags, doohickies.

. . .

A few more days until Christmas. Am I done shopping? Not really. But I’m ready for Christmas. Family, having off work. Reflecting. A longer Thanksgiving with more meaning, that’s what Christmas is for me. It is really hard not to get sucked in to the stress and expectations of this time of year, regardless if you celebrate. Be well, don’t stress it, don’t be unhappy. I say this to you and to myself, heh. I stress easy, I worry even easier and I often stress out over (imaginary, perceived) expectations. Sigh.

Yesterday Lootie went to my parent’s house to help move some boxes. A pastor friend of theirs has been staying with them since early summer as she sought employment. Recently, she found a church north of here, and is in the process of moving. Knowing how Lootie likes to work (weird, huh), they called him up. The deal was that he’d help move boxes and then someone would take him to lunch.

Lootie came home sporting $5 from their thankful friend. He was thrilled. Proud, and thrilled.
Today, more work. Dad needed some help pounding nails in a project (and, apparently, was also in need of someone to watch the last half of the Packer game with). He picked up Lootie, they finished the game, went to work.

Lootie came home sporting a huge black toolbox with a few random tools inside. Proud, and thrilled.

Like free stuff?

. . .

I don’t usually crave M&Ms. Sometimes, but rarely.
They are a delectably poppable, dangerous snack. Pop, pop, into the mouth. The candy coated equivalent of popcorn. Not good.
They can inspire an arrangement by color.
The light brown ones tasted the best, but now they’re extinct.
Sentimental M&M eater, I am. I am.
They come in a dark chocolate option. I appreciate that, but am not fooled. They’re still… M&Ms.

. . .

Friday. Can’t lie, it is nice to know the weekend is ahead of me instead of behind… from a “work” point of view. If only I could put work completely out of my mind instead of letting myself slip into calculating next week’s tasks. A job I can leave at work, is a job worth pursuing.

Or a discipline I have not yet mastered.

It was so nice to have a day off. Feels… normal. Frank and I shopped, searching for a Favre #4 jersey, kids size 8. We scoured the rotten, evil mall. Every store said they were sold out.

“Number four’s a popular number this year…”

I didn’t even know I was looking for a number four, just Packer, Favre and kid size. But that number four, uttered from a kind salesperson’s lips, was what ended up saving the day. Steve & Barry’s was having an eight-dollar sale, everything for 8 bucks. I picked up 3 pairs of jeans (twins and Dants). Had them wrapped at the “free with optional donation” kiosk. They weren’t intentionally gifts, but since I could get them wrapped for free, why not?

The lady was kind, but slow, and I ended up wrapping one of the boxes myself. We left a $2 donation.

I stopped in at Payless shoes, hoping to find another pair of the furry suede boots that are all the rage (right now I’m outfitted in my daughter’s too-big ones), but no luck. We left the mall, ready to get some food, but made a quick stop at TJ Maxx. Frank ran down to the athletic store to see if he could find the jersey. I browsed the purses, fragrances, boots (still looking), wandered past the women’s clothing, back to the linens where I picked up a twin flannel set to hold in my hands and “ponder” while I shopped. Frank showed up with a Favre jersey that looked fit for a toddler.

I shook my head. “How much was it?”

“Fifty.”

“Frank. Take it back!! He’ll be lucky if he fits into it at all, there’s no room to grow even. No way. We’ll have to shop online and hope we find something. And hope it comes before Christmas.” I set the flannel sheets down on a display table by the men’s clothes, deciding not to get it. As we walked by the customer service desk I saw a flash of green and gold and the number four amongst a rack of clothing behind the desk. I leaned into the counter, fondling the shirts. Two were large men’s size and one — I knew from the experienced eye of a mother — was a child’s size 8. “Are these on hold?” I asked the young man who was ringing up a customer.

He came over, looked at them and pinched the two man-sized shirts in his fist. “From here down is.” He motioned opposite of the jersey I had my eye on. I snatched it up and checked out the tag. Size 8. Price? $29.99. Score.

As Frank came back to see what the hold up was, I held up the jersey. “Size 8.” He was about as shocked as I was. I shrugged. Smiled. Stifled maniacal laughter. And raced my fat little legs over to pay for it before someone could tell me differently.

Lunch was at the Hong Kong Cafe, Madison. We had calamari for appetizer, Mongolian beef and governor (something). I liked Frank’s governor (something) better, and ended up mixing both dishes for a satisfying meal.

. . .

Frank has off tomorrow, and we thought I should go ahead and take tomorrow off, too. It is hard for me to take a day off, for some reason. I feel guilt. Like I’m playing hookie. Heh.

My mom once told me that I could not be quiet. She feared an intruder in our home. If someone ever broke in and we had to hide? It would never work. I could tell you to be quiet and you simply would not have been able to. I thought it was funny when she told me that. But now, as a mom of a (couple) apples that landed quite close to the tree, I share her concern.

. . .

This morning there was a threat of an icy commute. I braved it anyway, and went to work. Everyone that called said they did not expect me to be there on such a wintry day. Two ladies that stopped in to make baskets for shut-ins around noon, an hour before I leave, warned me to get an early start out of the office. The snow was coming down hard and the plow had not visited yet.

As I left (on time, not early), the plow was getting started in the parking lot. The only vehicle in the east lot was mine. The plow passed me and I crossed the lot. unbeknownst to the driver of the pick-up/plow, he backed up his vehicle, gunning it, coming within half a foot of crushing me. In the moment I registered that I was still standing and alive, I noticed I had been plowed in, up to the door on the van.

“Make your heart jump?” I heard from behind. The truck had stopped. I could see two men inside, neither face registering the fear and anger that mine was. I made a sideways motion with my hand, saying, “So-so.” It took all my strength not to spout off on the mouth about being nearly hit, and on top of that, PLOWED IN.

It took me about 10 rocks in forward and reverse, with the plow kindly watching, to release my vehicle (a HUGE van) from the packed in snow. After backing out, I stopped in the plow’s path, stepped down from my van, and scraped the ice and snow from each window. He didn’t say anything, but sat and waited for me to finish.

The ride home was a slow journey through snow and cautious drivers. Some people won’t exit the house when it is snowy, as if the flakes are something foreign and forbidden. As someone who has lived in Wisconsin and New York, snow in winter does not concern me too terribly much. I enjoy it, especially when it dumps buckets like this. Talk to me in late winter, though, when Christmas is past and snow is not as new and exciting.

. . .

The kids hoped for a snow day tomorrow, but it doesn’t look like it will happen. That means I have the day to spend with my husband. Yay. We will shop and have lunch and spend the day together like we used to before I took this job. I miss that.

Monday, my work-at-home day. Most of my “home” work is computer related, so often after straining my eyes and body, I take a break by throwing in some laundry, washing dishes, or some other household chore. Today dish washing was in order. We went to bed last night without doing the dishes and the stack was staring me down the second I entered the kitchen. After getting the kids off to school, I threw the dishes in a sink full of water, letting the soaking time take a bite out of my scraping and scrubbing time. I also cleaned out our coffee maker (a percolator) and made a fresh batch of coffee, in the manner I earlier explained. The picture below features 8 O’Clock Columbian beans, which I am pretty certain I won’t be buying again (unless I forget that I detest them and throw them in my cart like, apparently, I did this last time). They just don’t brew the kind of tasty, rich cup that I enjoy.

Anyway. 12 cup portion of beans + 1 cinnamon stick + a healthy pinch of cardamom.

Grind.

Mmmmm. There are healthy properties in cinnamon, too, don’cha know?

Cinnamon’s essential oils also qualify it as an “anti-microbial” food, and cinnamon has been studied for its ability to help stop the growth of bacteria as well as fungi, including the commonly problematic yeast Candida. - link

Cinnamon and blood sugar control:

Cinnamon may also significantly help people with type 2 diabetes improve their ability to respond to insulin, thus normalizing their blood sugar levels. - link

More information on the health benefits of cinnamon.

Good stuff.

I also did some meal planning and have dinners set through next Wednesday. Shyuh.
Balanced the checkbook.
Got my “home” work done.
Purchased a skateboard magazine subscription for Dants as part of his birthday present.
Ordered a Peyton Manning jersey for Lootie for Christmas

When the kids got home from school I popped up some popcorn in the iron pot.

Stove-popped popcorn, popped in coconut oil, drizzled with melted butter and sea salt. Lootie and I sat on the couch with the bowl between us, reading enjoying salty, buttery bites.

Baked some bread (recipe from hilbilly housewife):

Gotta say the smell of baking bread warms a home nicely.

But the bread was for dinner, even though our household managed to eat an entire loaf before we made it to dinner. We had meatloaf, corn, salad and homemade bread — Franny said, I LOVE this dinner!!!.

I even managed to go grocery shopping with my thought-out list (applause). I spent $204 dollars, with a savings of $40 (store sales and a couple coupons).Though I got a lot accomplished, there is always much, much more to do and I find myself having increased difficulty getting everything done. I used to keep notes and lists in a spiral-bound notebook, but got too busy and lazy for that (self-defeating, I know I know). I think, for my own sanity, I need to start one up again. Organization helps me to get more things accomplished and be a better manager of my time and money.

Tomorrow I go to work, but Wednesday I’m taking off since Frank has off. We need to shop. Together. Yay. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a while. I’m looking forward to spending the day together. We need that.