Hallowe'en II

Ted forgot to mention a few things about our Halloween experience last year. He was absolutely right about the candy, (VERY important to have enough so we don't run out), but he doesn't remember the horrors I had to face from the frightful "holiday".

We tried to take it pretty easy last year - rented a movie, left lights on to attract trick-or-treaters, and Ted picked up food from one of our favorite places so I wouldn't have to cook:



We love their BBQ chicken pizza, and I'm always a fan of all things Asian, so he also got one of their Thai Crunch salads - mmmmm:



We haven't eaten there since.

Because this was me just a few hours later (minus the uber-hairy legs):



The yakking continued all through the night, but I went to work the next morning because I didn't have a scrap of lesson plans ready for the day. I made the 45-minute drive without puking in the car or out the window, but warned my principal that it was imminent and if I didn't start feeling better, I was going home. He didn't have to ask why - I looked awful.

As it turned out, I was able to hold in the vomit all through our 65-min first period, but soon after had to let loose in the nearest toilet as the principal was en route to check up on me. He heard the heaves two hallways away and ordered me home, where my sister came to tend to my every need. They weren't many, since even the tiniest sip of water sent me racing to the toilet.

Did I mention that food poisoning doesn't know the difference between the entry and the exit? It's all the same to those little bacteria - just get everything the hell out of there, doesn't matter how.

Ugh. Stupid Halloween.

A week or so later, when I went to visit Laura in the hospital during her eternal prenatal stay, I told that story and she said her husband had been even more sick from the SAME SALAD at CPK, different (but nearby) location. Something was rotten in the state of California!

Overall, I lost about 9 lbs from the experience. My GI tract was completely cleaned out, and I never wanted to wipe my bum again.

This year, I'm just eating candy for dinner. It's much safer.

Hallowe'en

Last year we got into Halloween in a big way.  We thought, "we're in a house, we're going to get all sorts of trick-or-treaters!"  So we went to the local pumpkin patch, aka the parking lot of CVS/pharmacy, to pick up the perfect orange gourd.  It came replete with a petting zoo and a little false advertising.  See the sign below.  There weren't any horses, golden retrievers, squirrels, pigs, great blue herons or velociraptors to be found.  Try goats and chickens.  Later it was pointed out to me that it isn't actually a velociraptor on the far right.  It's a monkey (there weren't any monkeys to pet either), but I could have sworn that it was the infamous flesh-eating dinosaur.  To me the tail and the branch are the dino's neck and head respectively, the monkey's legs are the raptor's scrawny forearms, the monkey's head is its tail and the monkey's forearms are the legs.  I had all these horrible images of a Jurassic Park style meltdown in the drug store parking lot.  Alas, the biggest risk was a case of avian flu.

You know what though?  We didn't get even one measly trick-or-treater.  We had to eat all those yummy Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Almond Joys, Hershey's Minis and Peanut M&Ms by ourselves.  I blame our neighborhood for any and all weight gain we may have experienced.  I can't imagine why we got completely ignored.  Look at our lovely initial emblazoned jack-o'-lantern (no double entendre intended)!  I'll admit I was a tad bit suspicious that we were going to have some extra candy on our hands though when I didn't see a single little ghost or ghoul in our neighborhood on the way home.  Things could be different though this year, right?  We better start stocking up on candy right now.  We'd hate to run out.

An Anatomy Observation

I find it absolutely hilarious that people rub my tummy. I'm almost 6 months pregnant, and I'm surprised I haven't popped out more, but there's definitely a bump there, and of course my boobs are massive.

Twice today, students have greeted me in the hall with "Hi Allison!" and then immediately look down, reach their hand out, touch the tum, and say, "Hi Baby!" It's very cute and endearing and I don't mind it in the least.

The reason for thinking this is funny more than anything else is that as a former student (and T.A.) of anatomy, I know exactly what they're rubbing, and it ain't no baby. Behold, the anatomy of the adult abdomen.



Now, many have seen a picture like this, but few realize the ramifications of it when a fetus is thrown into the mix. You ladies out there who have ever had one growing in you know exactly where the movements manifest themselves. For those who haven't (yet), it's right where all the monthly cramping goes on that drives you nuts. For all you men, here's a picture.



When a baby is growing in there, it stays low while EVERYTHING else gets pushed upward to make room for it. So for the past week, as students have been having their way with my pooch, I giggle inside thinking "Thank you for the well wishes to my liver and intestines. You're SO sweet." Of course, I'd rather have them touch my body up there instead of where the baby actually is, the little perverts.

Opa!!

Ted and I tapped into our inner Mediterraneans and hit the St. Anthony's Greek Fest a while back. Well, we saw an advertisement for it a couple months ago and when it approached, I asked, "So are we still going to the Greek Fest?" His reply: "Well, I'm going. I don't know what YOU'RE doing." If there's anything Ted loves, it's going like a lamb-eater to the slaughter.



We invited the illustrious Mike and Lilian to join us since it's been so long and we haven't been hitting the karaoke stage like we should. They were totally game, so we met up and we hustled our hummuses over there.



Who should we see in the food line but Jean, Tim, and their wee one. What an added treat! Well, it was two treats since we caught them snarfing down these little numbers. Behold, the Greek Donut. Christy, don't drool on your computer.



To know that Tim & Jean were eating dessert before dinner (and were planning to finish off a few pastries afterwards, too), cemented their good reputation in my mind, so the six adults, one baby, one fetus, and one bared hooter (won't say whose) sat down to a VERY yummy dinner of kebabs, shrimp, moussaka, rice and authentic salad. We were stuffed so of course, it was time to find some baklava. Oh yeah, and watch all those sweaty, hairy Athenians dance a little jig.



The pastry table was our first visit because we all figured we'd need to come back after we made our rounds to the other booths. Now, I love baklava as much as the next phyllophile, but frankly, I make a mean batch myself. Instead, I made a beeline to the apricot filled shortbread and the custard-phyllo creation, and we were not disappointed with our choices. But our trip around the converted parking lot was not without its own visual delights. First, the triplets being pushed around by grandpa.



Don't you just want to eat them up?? If they'd been wrapped in phyllo and dipped in syrup, Ted would have had a go at them. What he did appreciate though, was this: lamb on a spit. The side dish? Fries!



We turned a corner to check out the carnival-type booths they had going for kids, and I laughed out loud when I saw what they were using for the "Throw the ring around the bottle" game. I guess in some cultures, it's never too young to start.



I snapped this picture of a dude who was obviously at the wrong party.



And I've saved the best for last. During our wanderings, we ran into my former boss and his wife - co-owners of the mortuary where I worked a few years ago. We were delighted to see each other (Mary and I became good friends hanging out among the dead together), and what do you do when two people are so happy to see each other?? That's right! They hug!!

Well, in the time since I left that job to pursue my teaching career, Mary left the upper half of her wardrobe to pursue what she missed out on in heaven when she was standing in line (twice) for perverseness: boobies. I'm no small fry myself, but I swear, I hugged that woman and those things felt like two bocce balls on a board. I pulled back from her and exclaimed two words, "Whoa! Boobs!", then turned to Ted and asked "Have you hugged her yet? Here, hug her!" She laughed the whole time and then bragged she wasn't even wearing a bra... SO unfair. If I don't wear a bra, my belly button's got neighbors.

So Mary, here's my tribute to you:



OPA!!!

Like mother, like son

Last night was the ol' annual Back to School night for our small Social Justice charter school heavily populated by families who will most likely never taste the likes of any sort of justice, social or otherwise. Ah, irony.

The parents of my "advisory" (homeroom) students were to come to my room first so I could give them their child's schedule for the night. I also introduced them to the night and told them about the purpose of advisory (which I'm still figuring out. I admit I'm not the biggest advocate of tacking on an extra 45 useless minutes to my day). How many of the parents in that advisory group spoke passable English? None!

However, one of my 6th grade advisees, ill-suitedly named Jesus, told his mom that I was pregnant. She was very excited about this fact, and asked "How many month?" Now, I'm not fluent in Espanol, but since I've lived in L.A. my whole life, I've learned to get by with a few phrases. I've also taken a page out of my mom's book by crossing over what I learned in French and adding an "o" or "a" to everything (Note: "Spaghetti'Os was the originator). But I know my numbers between 0 and 11 and that the booze-guzzling holiday Cinco de Mayo stands for the 5th of May, so I replied "Cinco!" She then spouted off something under her breath, but I managed to catch "solo cinco" and "muy grande".

My first reaction was to think - 'Wait! I'm five months! Didn't I say five?' and then went through all the translations in a split second in my brain: one-uno, two-dos, three-tres, four-quadricep, five-cinco de mayo. I'm right - why is she saying I'm mui grande?? Then I noticed she was skinny. The little....piece of work. I was gonna make her whole boca muy grande if she kept that up...

So what did I learn? These damn parents are just as rude as their damn kids. And I'm not wearing that outfit again until I really am grande.

*Ted's addition after he read this post: "You should have asked her how long she'd been in the US. When she replied cinco yearo, you could have said something like, "You've been here 5 years and you still can't speak any English?!?!?!?!? So stupido!! Your IQ must be cinco too!"

This is only one of the many reasons I love my husband who loves his chubby wife.