Sunday, April 25, 2010
We interrupt this program with a brief message from breast cancer.... please do not turn off your computer. Direct your browser to www.kickitkiki.com (that's "kick it kiki", in case you can't see through all those "k" and "i" letters). We will return to your regularly scheduled Kiki Knows Best program in about a year, sigh.
Friday, April 9, 2010
I'm beginning to feel a little guilty about constantly telling stories about my son, Fisher. I do have a daughter too, but since she isn't saying much yet, it's hard to relay how funny she is. She really is a hoot and the cutest thing in the world. But for now, the one with the gift for gab wins. Here are a couple "Fish Stories" that struck me as great.
Naming our son Fisher wasn't a random act. My husband and his Dad are serious fly fishermen. In addition, Nick's best friend growing up was a kid with the last name Fisher. Hence- our kid was easily bestowed with this unusual moniker. We were pretty sure that with a name like Fisher, he was going to HATE fishing. Good news- he totally digs it and caught his first fish today with his dad. See him here with the big ol' nasty catfish from a pond in Scottsdale. Strangely, I'm proud.
I've started asking Fisher about his dreams in the morning. I usually get odd, but not unexpected things from his four-year-old brain. Monster trucks, fire trucks, telephone repair trucks, Budweiser trucks...I think you can see the general theme. But yesterday was new. I quote: "Jenny-Jane (sister) was playing near a well. We weren't really watching her very well, and she fell in. She fell all the way down to the bottom, and then she starting shrinking really small and turned into a teeny tiny spoon. A teeny tiny spoon with a face. Yeah, that's right." Oh my. I thought I got away scott-clean with my pre-pregnancy partying follies in regard to my children's mental health. Let the records show that our first piece of evidence has been presented.
Friday, April 2, 2010
This little story is so funny and so wrong, I keep giggling to myself. Driving home tonight from the grocery store, I've got both kids strapped into their car seats, and we stop on the street to talk to our favorite neighbors Amy, Andrew and little Helen. After a few minutes of chatting through the car windows, my four-year-old son throws this out "So, do you want to come over to my house for Bloody Mary's?" Just like that. God I love that kid. Actually, I was a little horrified, but really, but not a bad idea! (please don't call CPS on us) Unfortunately, they were unable to come over for Bloody Mary's right then, but I'm hoping we can make up for that on Easter. Does that sound sacrilegious? I have a feeling my chances for heaven were spoiled long ago, let's live it up!
Monday, March 29, 2010
I just returned from a quick weekend to Milwaukee with my two sisters to visit my parents. It was fun, silly, sad and shitty all in one. Without being a total downer, my Dad has mesothelioma, cancer from working with asbestos products his whole life, and is really sick. The Dad part was hard like I've never experienced. The sisters part was amazing like I can't begin to describe.
For the first time in our lives, we were not able to stay in our childhood home. Our Dad needed his space, understandably. So we rented a hotel room down the street and had the time of our lives together, despite the circumstances. I kept my iPhone close at hand to document the hilarity we shared while keeping ourselves afloat in our emotional journey. I want to share a few of my favorite moments, and I know that it's ok, because my Dad is a story teller and joke teller. He loves a good joke- as evidenced by his faking dead on the couch one afternoon while we were home. Not funny Dad, jeez!!
What's in the Puddin'?
So in the plane on the way there, my sister Diane makes one of those four-sided paper fortune teller things, while giggling to herself like crazy. Oh yes, she's 12 years older than me; we are beyond pretending to be mature. When she tells my "fortune," the inside panel reveals my fate as "vacation constipation". We all burst into a hysterical fit since of course I'll get that, it's my trademark. Even better, we get "Shusshed" by another passenger behind us- we actually got shusshed! So while home, my mom tells us about this special pudding concoction she makes to aid constipation. We can't help but chant "What's in the puddin'?" until she pulls it out and makes us all try it. I'm gagging now thinking about it. Prune juice, apple sauce and wheat germ in equal parts. I can't accurately describe the consistency but I'm sure you can imagine. And yes, it works.
Bangin' the Wood
This little story needs a precursor- my husband went to Circle K last winter to buy a bag of firewood. When he didn't see any outside, he asked the gal working behind the counter "Do you have wood?" Circle K Sally turns and looks at the magazine racks behind her and says "Nope, no Wood, but we've got Hustler and Big Jugs". Awesome. So the hotel we are in has a wood burning fireplace in the room- really? How can that be safe? Anyhoo- the front desk supplies us with this super powerful synthetic fire log that makes a crazy roaring fire in our hotel room. My sister Claudia takes the fire tongs and for some reason, whacks the burning log with serious force. The thing explodes into HUGE wild spark flying flames- Cool!!! Of course we then fought over who got to "bang the wood" all night. It's a miracle we didn't burn down the place.
Ok- In the interest of time, I have to end here, but I've got a few more Milwaukee stories. Like, was it wrong to eat Kopps frozen custard every day we were there? No it was sooo right. Grasshopper fudge? I'm still dreaming about it.
Oh- and quickly, I did really like Smashburger, so try it.
Monday, March 22, 2010
My husband and I were swapping stories tonight over funny things our four-year old said this week. Mine was a misunderstanding, his, not so much.
So tonight, Fisher and I were watching E.T. Which, by the way, is SUPER fun to watch a little dude experience his first big time movie that includes friendly space men coming out of a spooky ship and the kids who are trying to hide it from their mom. He was literally bouncing in his seat with excitement asking 40 questions a minute as I tried to explain in simple terms all that was happening. I can only imagine the new thoughts and ideas this movie is creating in his cute little head. That's one of the most amazing things about parenting. I just love seeing his wonder and helping to guide his new experiences. Pretty great.
Anyhoo- we are on the couch and he says, "Where's my shit?" Ummm, what? "Where's my new shit?" Come again?? So this goes on about six or seven times. Finally, I'm like "Dude, I'm having a really hard time understanding you. It sounds like you are asking me, where is your new shit?" He says, "Mom, not shit. Where's my new shit I got today?" Aargh!! What the hell are you saying??? Finally I remember the new art set my sweet friend Julia and her boys brought over as a bday gift. I say "Do you mean your new art 'set'?" "YES!" he says, and I realize that he really thought he was saying 'set' the whole time. " 'Shit' is a grown up word," he says. Right.
So my husband tells me that while trying to fix the water pipe that was broken in our back yard ALL LAST WEEK, (see previous entries about that pile of fun), and dealing with the cable tv guy, our son saunters out to join the "guys" aka, ten workmen, in our back yard. He sees the cable guy on the roof and says "Pussy, you're a pussy!" The Mexican landscape guys working on the pipe nearly pee their pants. "What???" my husband says, and my son keeps saying "Pussy, pussy, you're a pussy!" up to the cable guy. Honestly, we have no idea where this came from. I know I never say that word, my husband, maybe, but not that we can remember. So, it's still a mystery, and completely wrong, but man, that's funny!
Friday, March 19, 2010
I'm not high maintenance, I'm not! I try to convince my husband of this when he insinuates the opposite. I don't get my nails done, I don't do any microderm or botox or peels (not that I don't desperately need them or want them. They're just not in the budget right now), I don't need my boob job redone every few years (ok, I don't even have a boob job- obviously), and I shop at Last Chance on a regular basis. All sleeveless tops $1.59 this week, yippee! Seriously, I'm a quite a bargain as far as wives go.
So to prove my low maintenance status, I'm going to show my excitement for the new burger joints opening in our hood. Looks like we've got a handful coming soon, read about them in this article. I'm super excited about Zinburger, a new Sam Fox venture opening at the Biltmore. There's one in Tucson but this is the first in Phoenix. Sam Fox has the midas touch in my book so I'm sure it will be great. I'll be heading there with girlfriends in a couple weeks so I'll let you know what I think.
What I'm most excited about at this moment is SmashBurger at Camelback Colonnade. I saw one of those sign flipping guys promoting it on Camelback Road this week- far from a good first impression. Additionally, the Colonade is no Kierland Commons, duh. Thirdly, it looks like a chain restaurant- get ready for offensively cheap interior design. So why am I excited? Well, in today's mail, I received a postcard with their menu. I ignored the 200 burger toppings and zoomed right to beverages. Beer? Yeeees! And I'll do you one better my friends- bucket of 4 beers for $9.99. Sold. AND they've got a kid's menu with hot dogs- my go to food for the midgets. Nitrates and fillers? Who cares, they'll eat and I'm happy. No babysitter needed and I get an affordable but tasty dinner out with drinks. Perfect. I'm desperately trying to get there this weekend so I can let you know for sure if it's at all worthy.
So while most husbands will be treating their wives to a respectable weekend meal out, I'm just hoping to get my hands on my own bucket of $9.99 beers. Oh my, is my Milwaukee showing??
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
My head is spinning a bit tonight, so I thought I'd give you an update of what's circling around in my brain. Hold on, I'm not even sure where this is going...
-You will all be relieved to know that a new box from Jack Spade arrived on our doorstep this afternoon. My husband is now correctly fitted into his XL sweater vest and he headed to bed purring like a kitten.
- DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT go to the Phoenix Zoo during spring break. My sweet niece is visiting from University of Arizona (best school ever, yes, my alma mater) and we packed up the kids Monday morning for what we expected to be a quiet early week visit to our zoo. The parking lot was our first clue. Nearly every spot was taken by a mid 90's mini-van adorned with those white stickers of miniature family member silhouettes. BTW, where do people buy these? I've never seen them for sale anywhere and I tend to shop in seedy places. But I digress. The crowds were huge and I am still having nightmares of the beyond-freaky woman with calves the size of helium tanks, covered with bad fruit stripe colored tattoos, lying face down like a beached whale, trying to grope the sting rays. Truly grotesque and horrifying. We left that place feeling like we had just left a battle zone. Even an emergency Sonic drive through couldn't shake our post traumatic stress.
-So these guys came to fix our pool fence. About four years ago, my artsy husband designed a beautiful iron pool fence that looks fab, but hmmm... when we allowed it to rust to look "rustic", who knew that the rust would completely eat away the structure so one touch of a four-year-old's finger could bring the whole thing crashing down? My entire childhood growing up in Milwaukee really should have taught me more about the effects of rust. My Dad drove Pontiac station wagons, for pete's sake. So while the guys were pick-axing away, they hit our main water line. Are you kidding me? I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say that I'll be brushing my teeth in the kitchen tonight and I won't be opening the toilet cover until after Roto Rooter arrives tomorrow morning. (I'd like to end this segment with a "Crap!" But that's just too easy)
I feel like I could go on for days here, I like this stream of conscience thing. But I'll just end it here with this quick American Idol update:
- I'm completely broken up about losing my boy-toy Alex Lambert last week. If anyone knows how to contact him, please don't hesitate to tell him I'm more than willing to be his Mrs. Robinson.
- Lilly Scott? Totally miss that weird grey hair and Betty Boop voice. Who knew?
- Haeley Vaughn? Good riddance wonder lips.
- Lee Dewyze? I have a new love.
- Andrew Garcia? I'm over you.
- Siobhan Magnus? Your name is as weird as you are.
- Tim Urban? I have a theory about you and it's not kind or politically correct. If you're not gone soon, I may have to share it and reveal your secret.
Finally, to my sweetest friend Staci and her Mom. Thank you for being my biggest fans. I'm totally flattered.