Monday, August 30, 2004


Regarding the term "grease" in a previous entry (the nose picking one)...perhaps a little explanation is in order.

Since the moment Tyler was born, his Dad and I have been making up nonsense songs to sing for every task we did/do. There were bottle feeding songs, diaper changing songs, bathtime songs...and there is where you will find a critical bit of information.

No bath time is complete without my stirring rendition of "Singing in the Bathtub" with the following lyrics:

Washing Tyler's pee pee...and Tyler's bum.
Next comes a hair wash...Now we're almost done.
Scrubbing the left foot...and his right to boot.
Say tons of prayers now...hope he doesn't pooooooop.

After a brisk towel dry, Tyler gets the following tune:

Greasing the baby, GREASING the baby,
greasing the baaaaaby riiiiight now. Now we
are greasing the baby...greasing the baby riiiIIIght now.

Sung to the tune of "Oh My Darling, Clementine" as we apply a liberal amount of baby lotion. Oh my yes...with Tyler's sensitive skin and case of infant eczema, we grease him up good.

Now you know what Tyler was talking about when he said he was "putting grease on Daddy".

Oh, and the first ditty is one of mine. The greasing ditty was a Daddy creation. I think my lyrics are better. ;-)

Saturday, August 28, 2004


Toward the end of my senior year in high school, I was getting really tired of working in retail sales. My Father told me about a program at his company (Digital Equipment Corp.) called T.A.G., or the Temporary Assistance Group. They were basically an internal secretarial pool. If someone needed help for a day, a week, a month...they would call T.A.G. and get a temp. Dad told me that these TAG's all seemed to be young kids, like myself, and gave me the phone number for personnel so I could call and inquire. That was the end of the help from Dad. Never let it be said that my old man ever helped me get a job. *wink*

Now I HATE calling places/people I don't know. It's always been a phobia of mine. It took me a while to screw up my courage, call personnel, and stammer my way through a conversation about being a TAG. The very intimidating woman on the other end of the line told me to come in the next day at 8 in the morning to take some tests. Tests?! Oh crap. The next morning, I was freshly scrubbed, wearing my Sunday best, and ready to pee my pants as I sat in a plastic and metal chair outside the office of the very unfriendly personnel woman who ran the TAG screening. She put me at a table in an empty room, handed me a test booklet and a pencil and told me "You have 30 minutes to complete this first exam." It was a basic math competency test. No sweat!

I spent the next 2 hours taking a series of little tests about spelling, grammar, reading comprehension, basic office protocol...the only thing I was dreading was a typing test. I'd taken touch typing in my Sophomore year and done well with it, but I'd only used my typing for school work since that point. No real need for speed when you are typing a term paper (unless you wait until 2am the night it's due). At the end of the 2 hours, the woman actually smiled and told me I did very well on the test booklets. Wahoo for me! "Now I'll take you to the typewriter room for your typing test..."

Typing test?! Oh crap. I walked to this new room like a condemned woman. She sat me down at an electric blue IBM Selectric (well yay! It's the +-same typewriter we have at home!) and explained the test. There was a laminated sheet, face down on an easel. She told me to flip the sheet and begin typing when she said GO. I would have five minutes to complete typing exactly what I saw on the page. Margins were not set, I would have to hit a carriage return at the end of each line, do exact spacing, indents, etc. I was really sweating badly at this point. She picked up an egg timer that looked just like the one my mom used, set it for 5 minutes, and said GO as she let go of the dial. I flipped the sheet over and began typing my ass off...


I typed a few last characters as she came back into the room. She took my page out of the typewriter and left. Sweat was pouring down my face in a most embarrassing way. (I've always been a big sweater. I know...ladies "perspire", they don't my Granny always used to say. But dammit, I sweat like a pro athlete! No doubt!)

She came back a few moments later with a frown on her face. "You only typed 26 WPM. You need to type at least 35 to pass the test and be an entry-level TAG."


"You can take the typing portion one more time in 2 weeks, if you would like to try again?"
Wahoo! I wasn't out of the game yet! I decided for the next two weeks I would eat, sleep and breath typing. I practiced every day, several times a day. I typed letters to my Grandmothers, to my friends, to Mom gave me some of those goofy typing phrases to practice with. The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog. The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog. The quick red fox was a big of a dare-devil, wasn't he. Why does that lazy brown dog just lay there like that? Maybe he is just too old...

I went back to DEC Personnel at the appointed time, two weeks later. Praying for a miracle, I was ushered back into the type testing room and sat at the same electric blue IBM. The personnel lady patted me on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry. You'll do fine." She set that annoying egg timer and left the room. I began typing my butt off...again.

As time ticked away, I passed the point where the timer went *ding* last time and I kept typing. Woo! Look at me go! I typed and typed and typed and typed and...wait a second. It had to be five minutes by now, right? I had reached the end of the page and had just begun typing the same thing over again. I snuck a peek at the time. It was at one minute remaining. Cool! I kept going. I looked up again about a minute later. One minute.......and holding. Uh oh.

The timer was STUCK! What should I do?? I snuck a peek out the door. The personnel lady had her back to me and was talking on the phone. In one swift motion, I leaped over to the timer, turned the dial to zero, almost dropped it when it went off with a loud *DING*, placed it on the table and rushed back to my chair. She came through the door a moment later and asked "How do you think you did this time?"

I grinned. "Oh, I think I did WAY better this time. I was really nervous last time." Yes, my good ol' Catholic guilt gnawed at me a bit, but I was overriding it with thoughts of working in a real office, with real grownups and a good paycheck.

Ms. Personnel Lady reviewed my test and was stunned. "You typed over 90 WPM! That qualifies you to be at our executive secretarial TAG level." Oh my. What had I got myself into? She handed me a clipboard full of forms, explained how the program worked and told me my salary. $7.25 an hour. WOW! That was a fortune to a high school kid used to making minimum wage (back then it was under $4). I told her I planned to work for the rest of the Summer, then I would be starting college. She told me I could also come back to work during school breaks, if I wanted to. I was in a joyous daze. She handed me a time sheet and told me I would get a call in about a week with my first assignment, after they processed all my paperwork and put me into the system.

I was on my way! I didn't take the work very seriously at first. I was probably one of the worst TAGs ever. I got in late, took long lunches with my new co-worker friends, did half-assed and slipshod work...I was a carefree teenager! What did I know about having a good work ethic. This was only temp work, after all. Who cared? I remember going to this Polynesian restaurant in Acton where the waiters never asked for ID and I had my first scorpion bowl. It's a powerful rum concoction in a glass the size of a fish bowl. I was plastered! I went back to work after my two hour lunch break where my current assignment was to photocopy this huge pile of documents. TAGs always got the crappiest work. I was barely able to stand. I can only imagine how straight those copies were. *giggle*

Little did I know this was to be the start of a real career for me. Little did I know that my destiny awaited me in the electronic bits and bytes of the DEC corporate intranet.

Monday, August 23, 2004


While I was napping today, John decided to take Tyler over to Wendy's for an early dinner and boy's night out...I got the following tale sent, via email, so I would have a good laugh when I woke up:

So, we're standing in line at Wendy's and he starts rubbing my face.

"What are you doing Tyler?"

"I'm putting grease on you."

Me, thinking he's only pretending... oh that's cute. Wait a minute...

"Where did you get the grease from?"

"My nose," as he sticks his finger in it.

I touch my face and find boogers on my cheek.


Love you :-*

Saturday, August 21, 2004


...and so we arrive at my college years (lest you forgot, I did mention I would be talking about this in a future journal entry.) First a little background (you may want to grab a cup of coffee and a snack, this is a long one). I began thinking about college in earnest in my sophomore year of high school. Is that normal? I don't know. All I know is I was getting a LOT of college brochures in the mail and I kept requesting more and more. One of the schools I showed an early interest in had this cool program that was sort of like "Big Sisters" where you stayed with an upper-classman for the weekend and they gave you the grand tour of campus and an insiders view of college life. What was my weekend like? Let's just say I was looking forward to college like a kid looks forward to Christmas!

I had a nasty falling out with my first boyfriend in my Junior year over a prom dispute (more details on that in a future "Boyfriends" post) and a subsequent lousy time at my prom. The whole affair soured me on male/female relationships and helped determine the course of my future. I decided that I would need a school with fewer distractions, a small community feel like my high school (I didn't want to become just another student number), and a strong foundation in my faith (another Catholic school). What fit the bill to a T? Small, all female, Catholic colleges. Call it temporary insanity.

I narrowed my choices down to three schools. I was accepted to all three, to my great delight. The final choice was NOT easy! Pressure from my best friend, Kathleen, and my on again/off again first boyfriend Ray helped me decide on the school that was closest to home...Regis College in Weston, MA. The very same school where I'd spent my first "college weekend". I still wish I had cut those ties and gone with my REAL first choice - Sweet Briar in Virginia (if you have actually heard of this school, I'll be shocked.) Hindsight is 20/20, eh?

I danced with joy when that fat envelope arrived from Regis with all that fun stuff a new student needs to know. I had to fill out and send in this VERY detailed questionnaire to match me up with my first roommate. I was as honest as possible since I really wanted this girl to be as compatible as possible. The very first question was Smoker/Non-Smoker. My friend Chris had taught me how to smoke, but even then it was not something I did often. I decided a non-smoker would be a much better choice. I could give up my once a week cigarette habit in order to keep my new room from stinking and my lungs from giving me fits. No problem!

A couple months later I got a letter from the school with the name, address and phone number of my new roommate, Melissa M. We were off to a great start! She had an annoying alliterative first/last name combo just like me (Rebecca R.) I wrote her a letter to introduce myself and she replied, on scented pink stationary with cute bunnies on it. Hmm. Alarm bells went off, but I shoved my growing unease aside.

I packed up my life into milk crates and left for my first year at school. I was more excited than I had ever been in my life! My parents helped me bring my stuff up to my new dorm room where I discovered that my new roommate was already moved in and settled. She had selected the bed by the window (the ONLY window), the larger closet, and had taken up 3 of the 4 available walls with her posters and stuff. A poster sized kitten hanging from a tree limb proclaimed "Hang In There Baby!", piles of stuffed animals on her bed included Care Bears and a Cabbage Patch doll, she had a large cork board full of photos of friends, family and *RETCH* cheerleaders!! Her family looked like something out of a tennis magazine...preppy, polo'd and plastic. I was horrified! Some of them were sitting on my future bed. They eventually moved out of my way as introductions were exchanged. Missy (gag) took great pleasure in introducing me to her boyfriend Gregg, who had an iron-clad grip on her hand. He was short, like her, but very good looking. He oozed "possessive" from every pore.

When our families all left, Missy and Gregg sat on her bed and promptly pretended I wasn't there. I decided to unpack and decorate my, er, space. I plastered my favorite David Lee Roth poster (him half nude in a swimming pool) at the head of my bed and Eddie Van Halen and my other fav VH posters on my wall. I was a HUGE Van Halen fan at that point in my life. I liked lots of other bands too, mostly heavy metal, but VH was number one in my heart. I place my one lone stuffed animal, if you could call it that, on my bed. It was a neon green alien named Fred with 2 long legs and a long shock of neon orange fluffy hair all over his head. It was a frustration doll - you grasped it by the legs and shook the crap out of it until you felt better. It did wonders for fluffing up Fred's hair and releasing pent up emotions. Fred was a gift from my friend Pam. She "got" me.

I was busily arranging items on my little desk and trying to ignore the sounds of sucking face behind me when I caught a whiff of a very familiar smell. I spun around and found Missy and her guy passing a joint back and forth between them. I don't know exactly what expression I had on my face, but whatever it was it made Missy snort smoke out her nose as she laughed at me. Gregg held the joint out to me and I just shook my head and went back to my organizing. They were both giggling behind me. I was a little annoyed but not really bothered. After the doobie, Missy lit up a ciggy. Now THAT bothered me. I watched her smoke for a few moments and finally said, "Didn't you say you were a NON-SMOKER on your profile?"

She took a long drag, made some smoke rings, and replied, "Well, yeah. I didn't want to get stuck with a smoker. I don't mind MY smoke, but I hate other peoples smoke. Makes me want to gag." I was livid! I had given up smoking for this girl?? OK, so I didn't really have a "habit" per se, but her attitude just ran up my spine like nails on a chalkboard. Things went from bad to worse. I had NOTHING in common with her. She was snobby, stuck up, rich, and spoiled. The ex-cheerleader pranced around the place like she owned the world. She had graduated from some snooty prep school, got a car as her graduation present, and was screwing around behind her pretty boyfriend's back. He was a really nice guy. He always apologized when Missy would lock me out of our room so they could get busy. I wanted to tell him that his devoted girlfriend was picking up a different guy every night at various frat parties around the area and bringing them back to OUR ROOM. Grrrr! What a slut. I asked our resident advisor that first week how to go about changing roommates. I was told you were not allowed to switch for 3 months. I was in for a looooonnnnng 3 months.

The last straw was the weekend I decided to bring my laundry home, for a change. I made my bed, gave Fred a good jostle and propped him up on my pillow, kissed my fingertips and planted them on David Lee's fine full lips and waltzed out the door. When I returned Sunday night, the room was jam packed with people...a full blown party! Strangers and dorm residents were sitting all over my bed smoking and drinking, David Lee had been torn off my headboard and was being trampled on the floor, my bedspread was wadded up and shoved against the wall (it was soaked with beer, I soon discovered) and, to my increasing horror, something was wrong with Fred. My classy, well-bred, prep school trained roomy had given Fred a mohawk. Most of his shocking orange hair had been shaved off his little green head. Many in the room giggled at me as I inspected the damage to Fred's do. I snapped! With quiet menace in my voice, I asked the people on my bed to get out. With increasing volume I told everyone to GET OUT. Missy gave me a dismissive tsk and told everyone to move to her friend's room down the hall. Then she turned to me and asked "What's your problem??"

Oh what a question. First I asked why David Lee was on the floor. She rolled her eyes at me and said "I hate that poster. His eyes were following me around the room and creeping me out, so I tore it down. You can always put it back problem." I eyed the beer stains and large foot print in the middle of Dave's face and wanted to smack her. Hard. I continued to tell her in excruciating detail what my problems were...with HER.

Finally I sat on my bed, hugged Fred to my chest and asked "Why did you do this to Fred?" At first she laughed at me and then, seeing the tears welling up in my eyes, she stammered out some bull about how she didn't know how much the stupid doll meant to me. That wasn't the point. I felt violated.

At the end of classes on Monday, I returned to my dorm room to find all my belongings in the hallway and this girl Laurie from down the hall moving her stuff in. Laurie wouldn't even look at me. Missy came out grinning - all peppy, preppy and plastic - and told me that she complained to Housing about me and got the OK to switch roommates. I said nothing. I just picked up my stuff and walked away from her. I walked into Laurie's old room and found her now former roommate, Jennifer, sitting on an empty bed and sobbing. Apparently, unlike me, she never saw this coming. She thought Laurie was her new best friend. Jenn had never heard the nasty things Laurie would say about her when she wasn't around. Things like...Jenn didn't wash her sweaters often enough...Jenn was too clingy...Jenn was annoying...blah blah blah. Laurie was nothing but nice to Jennifer's face, and a heinous bitch behind her back. I introduced myself, sat down next to her, and listened to her tell me all about the great stuff she and Laurie would do she didn't understand why Laurie was leaving her like this.

I thought about leaving her in the dark with her wonderful delusion, but I decided she was better off knowing the truth about her "perfect" roommate. It took a lot of convincing, but I got some unexpected help from Grace, our friendly neighborhood Lesbian punk rock girl from the end of the hall (Grace was the first proudly gay person I had ever met...I liked her a lot). She overheard the crying and poked her head in, listened to me tell the truth about Laurie, and she came up with some choice examples of things Laurie had said within her earshot as well.

Jenn ended up being a fantastic roommate, and one of my closest friends for many years after I left school (she is the one who ended up pregnant and backed out of my wedding party - if you read my post about my wedding). She also talked me into trying out for the acclaimed Regis Women's Chorus. We had a great time traveling to off campus performances, hanging out with her friends from back home, going to parties, playing tennis and trying to pick up guys. I'll have to do a post just about our exploits together. We had some wild times!

Laurie's loss was my big gain. Those two bitches really deserved each other. Oh! They also drove each other CRAZY! Laurie even slept with handsome Gregg behind Missy's back. You could often hear their yelling all the way down the hall. Joy!

While I am on the subject of roommates, I couldn't leave without mentioning the second worst roommate I ever had. You would think I'd learned my lesson about having a roommate after the Missy incident; but no. I couldn't afford a nice apartment on my own when I was desperate to move away from home, so I started looking at ads on the bulletin board at work where people would post things for sale or rent. I went to look at this place in Marlboro this girl advertised. I am drawing a blank on her name, at the moment, but I am sure John will remind me when he reads this. [Tara, hun. Her name was Tara.] Oh yeah! That was it.

The place was a really nice 2 family house. The landlord lived in the other half, and Tara and I would share. It was a 3 story room, half-bath, kitchen with huge pantry, large entryway and closet on the first floor, her space on the 2nd, and two rooms with a tiny bathroom on the 3rd floor. I would have a bedroom and use the other room as sort of a second living room so I could have privacy. We shared the first floor. It was a really nice place for the money and she didn't seem too bad...a bit quiet. It's always the quiet ones...

She was a witch. I don't mean her personality! She was a practicing Wiccan! She burned incense, made her own celebration robes, and had an altar of sorts in her room (I snuck a peek one day). I came home one time to yards and yards of damp black cloth stretched the circumference of our living room. Apparently she had hand dyed it black and it was stretched out to dry. She was also very active in the SCA (those folks who like to do the Renaissance fairs). She warned me that at certain times she would be up at midnight and would be nude in the living room. Umm, ok. I could deal with all of the above. It was her weird boyfriend and how they acted together that really freaked me out. He was a rather rotund redhead with more freckles than I had ever seen (she was petite with short, jet black hair)...he looked JUST like Alfred E. Newman. You know, the guy on the cover of MAD magazine? I swear to God!

Anyway...after several months of peaceful coexistence, Tara came to me one day to announce that when her boyfriend was visiting, I should plan to just stay in my room. They wanted to feel free to, uh, do it where ever and when ever the mood struck. Yeah. I didn't feel too comfortable with that arrangement, but I really liked my space and the rent was really affordable. Then she announced he was going to move in with her and I had to find a new place. Since I had never signed the lease, I had no leg to stand on and fight her. She gave me only 3 weeks to find a new home. I don't know why I didn't stand up to her and demand more time. Maybe I feared waking up one day with no hair or a bad case of warts? Ah well. It became a moot point since only one week after she told me to move out, I lost my job and wouldn't be able to afford the rent anyway. I was forced to move back home, again.

My final thought? (Bet you never thought I would end this post, huh.) But seriously; I never had another roommate again - until I moved in with the love of my life, that is. I still highly recommend living alone, if you have the choice. ;-)

Thursday, August 19, 2004


Ya know, I used to be much more of an Olympics watcher when I was younger. I loved watching women's gymnastics, men's gymnastics, men's diving (love those Speedo's, fellas), and in the winter Olympics - the figure skating. Even back at the height of my viewing days, I wasn't what you would call a "fan". I didn't know the names of most of our team members. I didn't check the schedule to find out when my favorite events were on (thanks to McDonalds for doing all those Olympics related contests where you could win food and prizes if the event on your ticket was a winner). I would just tune in at random and see if something I liked was on. I've been lucky that way! I've caught some really amazing Olympic moments.

Tonight was no exception. I happened upon Men's Gymnastics and found myself routing for the Korean guys. They seemed to really be kicking butt! The announcers had all but given up on the Americans. Then Paul Hamm did the unbelievable! He came back after this gasp inducing screw up on the vault to WIN the men's all-around gold medal. His last routine on the high bar cinched it. It was such an amazing routine, I actually started to well up with tears when he stuck his landing. I knew at that moment that I had witnessed something amazing. Even Paul, himself, didn't believe it when his trainer told him he won the gold. He won by 12 one thousandths of a point! Whew!

One last thought before I change the channel again trying to find something else to watch... Why are the Men's gymnastics floor routines so wooden and mechanical looking, while the women's are so fluid, artistic and accompanied by music?? It seems so sexist. Oh well. I still love it all.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004


I chuckled with amusement as Tyler rounded the corner and entered the family room. He was talking to himself and carrying a familiar object. He made his way to the barrier dividing the space into family room and my office (otherwise known as the back of the sofa). "Look Mommy!" He declared proudly and jammed the object firmly onto his head.

"What's that son, your hat?" I grinned and tried to sound serious as I held back my laughter.

"No Mommy," he sighed with exasperation tinged with pity, "it's my space helmet!"

Well, duh! I should have known that. Looks totally like a space helmet, what do you think?

I think the golden arches of the McDonald's Happy Meal box handle make a lovely visor for his helmet, don't you?

Friday, August 13, 2004


An entry over at The Peach Pages today sent me down memory lane. When my husband and I first got married, we were renting this tiny two bedroom cottage in Denville, NJ. The place was build in the 1920s and had a natural river stone foundation. It was a former vacation cottage (near the lake) that had been converted into a full time dwelling. It was cute, but there were gaps in the foundation. This left the basement open to habitation by unwelcome critters.

My cats had a field day when they moved in! They were bringing me little mice on an almost daily basis. A pretty rare treat for an indoor cat...they didn't have many opportunities to hone their hunting skills in my other apartments or my condo (just an occasional moth or bee).

At first the mice seemed content to stay in the basement. I adopted an "if they don't bother me, I won't bother them" attitude. I saw no evidence of poopies in my cabinets or holes chewed through my cereal boxes. Then came the day one of those cute furry critters ran right over my foot as I was watching TV. I am not at all squeamish about rodents. I've had many as pets in the past, but this made me jump. I wondered what made him venture upstairs where the two cats were?? Seemed pretty suicidal to me.

I started seeing more signs of the mouse invasion of the upstairs and was on the brink of calling our "landlord" (he was a high school buddy of my husbands). Then the cats deposited a new prize outside my bedroom door. A dead snake. Holy crap!! Where did they get THAT from??? I told John about it when he got home from work and he promised to call our landlord soon.

That weekend, we were being exceptionally lazy and sitting around the house. John decided to go back to bed for a nap after all our exhausting hanging out and doing nothing. He went into our dark-as-a-cave bedroom (love those blackout shades) and crawled into bed. He tossed a bit to get comfortable and his leg brushed up against a wet spot in the sheets. Since we were still newlyweds, this was not all THAT unusual. *wink wink*

Then he felt something move and brush up against his leg. That's when he whipped the covers off and flipped on the light.

I heard his deep-throated scream from the other end of the house (not all that shocking, since this house was the size of a postage stamp). "What!! What's wrong?!"

He came running out of the bedroom in a panic..."It's a *bleepin* snake! In the bed!!! It's still alive!!!!!!!"

You guessed it. One of the cats had deposited their latest "toy" in our bed. I suspect it was Sasha and he was still playing with the snake when John interrupted the cruel reptilian torment. The snake had been abandoned; alive, punctured, and bleeding under the covers.

I am still happy I decided against napping that day. ;-)

Years later, in a different house, we discovered a carpenter ant infestation. In the course of conversation with the nice exterminator, we mentioned the "snake incident". He was amused. "Yup. Where you find mice, eventually you will find snakes. Snakes love mice." Good to know.

Now I know why the mice were leaving the basement. They were running from the snakes. LOL

Thursday, August 12, 2004


I just caught my reflection in the mirror in my bathroom and found myself wondering.

How long has it been since I last looked in a mirror?? How long has that scratch on my cheek been there? How silly I look with my Pocahontas braids pinned on top of my head with little cutesie butterfly clips...I look like a German haus frau.

Makes an odd sort of sense (I am part German, after all), but I can't make sense of how I am feeling this week. I am SO flippin tired. I have been sleeping at every opportunity but it hasn't helped. I have no motivation. I go to bed tired. I wake up tired. I sit around all day...tired!
OK, I did just have a very action-packed and busy week, last week, with mine and Tyler's mini vacation; but I should have recovered from that by Tuesday, at the latest. Right?

Wait...when the heck did I braid my hair? I remember pinning it up because the braids were tickling my back...but when did I do the braiding???

I hope I am back to normal soon. I need to get back to my workouts. I need to do some laundry. I have so much I want to write about in HERE. *sigh* It's 3 AM. I'd better go back to bed. Sleep some more... hope I wake up later today feeling better. Good night.

Sunday, August 08, 2004


We're back! Tyler and I went to Massachusetts for a week to visit my parents and do some fun stuff together while his Dad was traveling on business. It was fun taking Ty around to some of the places I had fun at as a kid. Canobie Lake Park was a real treat. I haven't been there since probably 1982. It looked wonderful! They really keep that park up beautifully. You would never know some of the rides there have been around since 1902. They add something new almost every year too. I was sad to see that the "duck pond" was gone from the midway games area (I have such fond memories of picking up those rubber ducks and winning cool prizes).

Canobie has a huge selection of kiddie rides, so Tyler had lots to choose from. We never did make it onto all the rides he COULD have gone on. Ty is obsessed with the "car" style rides and had to go on them 2, 3, even 4 times in a row. What a kid! I had to diffuse a couple of toddler melt-downs when he didn't want to leave particular rides to give the other kids a turn. I was able to ride a few of the rides with him, which was really great. It's usually hard to find rides that I can fit on.

One of the newer rides they have that certainly wasn't around in my day was this incredible corkscrew style inversion rollercoaster. We sat on a bench just feet away from the start of the corkscrew spiral and Tyler watched in awe as the cars rushed by carrying the screaming masses. "I wanna go on THAT one!!" I had to explain that the ride was just for bigger kids. "I *AM* a big kid!" Who can argue with toddler logic?? To make up for the rollercoaster disappointment, I took him down by the lake to the Jungle Bouncer. Ty felt the need to make that ride EXTRA fun by screaming just like the big kids do on the big coasters. I was laughing my ass off! The other Moms watching him were also giggling at his enthusiasm. What a kid!! (Check out the Jungle Bounce photo above to see Ty in full "scream" mode. Too funny...)

p.s. Thanks to Kas for "missing" me! It's nice to know that someone was wondering where I went when my journal updates stopped for a week. LOL