I'll take what's in the box, Monty . . .

Take something beautiful. A glowing woman swollen with life ... 

 ... the subsequent miracle of birth ... 

... culminating in the arrival of a beautiful newborn.

Now, taint it all with the ever so quaint, recently made popular expression, 'push present'. Just brings a tear to your eye, don't it? A push present, for those of you with inquiring minds (and who haven't already figured this one out for yourselves), is a prezzie that one parent gives the other for birthing the new addition to their family. So, that would be you husbands, boyfriends and significant others of either gender. Now, me being a tad on the dédaigneuse side, I find the expression cringe-worthy. Frankly, I prefer the alternate expression, 'baby bauble'. Besides feeding into my love of alliterations, it clearly spells out what the non-baby-pushing-out parent should be shopping for (which, after popping out three people myself, is the LEAST you should receive by way of thanks, if you ask me!).

There are sites dedicated to the browsing and purchasing of these gifts - Gifts.com have a large assortment and even the parental bible, Parents.com are part of the revolution, offering the baubles no woman would turn down but also smashing ideas like spa treatments and trips! It's almost enough to make me want another baby ... I said ALMOST!

So, welcome to the world of  'push presents', where actress Jessica Alba has requested a $54,000 gold and diamond Frank Muller watch for the  upcoming birth of her second child, stylist Rachel Zoe received a 10-carat (10!) diamond ring and  Marc-Anthony gifted J-Lo with a pair of $2.5 million earrings. (Sure, you're saying, but she had twins! Well, you'd be wrong because he also gave her a $300,000 canary diamond ring! Yowsah!)

What did I get? *snicker* Let's see ... that would be nothing for the births of Kevin and Jordan. When Julia came along, I turned to her father and demanded flowers. I reminded him that this was my third (and last) ride on the delivery table merry-go-round. I reminded him that he had always wanted a daughter and now had one. I reminded him that every other woman on the floor had flowers and by gawd, I was not leaving the hospital until I had MY freakin' bouquet. He came through and in the 14 years we were together, that marked the second (and last) time he ever brought me flowers. But that's a whole other posting for a whole other day! So ... what did YOU get?

Flying the (not so) friendly skies

Some of you might know that I had reason to renew my dusty, old passport recently. I was invited to spend a long weekend in LA; a fantastic time to be sure. My travel there and back gave me a chance to see what has changed in the world of flight since my regular forays back in the pre-9-11 days.

Obviously, I knew the days where my kids were allowed to roam around the cockpit for 20 minute periods were long gone. What I noticed most was how little the flight attendants (is there a newer, more PC term used nowadays?) seemed to do. I mean, pillows and blankets have gone down the same road as open cockpits; nothing aside from non-alcoholic beverages and the air that streams down on you from the mini vents is free. Passengers don't call the flights attendants for A-N-Y-T-H-I-NG! From what I could see, apart from a head count, seat belt check and pouring juice and Coke, they seemed to have little else to do. Small wonder then that they have so much time to screen the wardrobes of boarding passengers. On June 15, US Airways staff insisted a young man hike up his baggy pants and when he refused, they called police and had him arrested! Fine, I don't want to see a stranger's underwear more than you probably do (well, not MOST strangers' underwear!) but a mere SIX DAYS later, the same airline allows the boarding of an old man wearing what seems to be woman's lingerie! Now, if you ask me (and I'm certain if you polled both planes' passengers), most (if not all) would prefer seeing the waistband of a pair of Calvin Klein's atop a pair of jean's waistband rather than a dude's package barely ensconced in a teeny pair of panties. Gawd, I hope they were panties - they didn't show a back view, thankfully!

But enough about ragging on the flight attendant's ... let's talk pilots! Southwest Airlines recently has to discipline one of their pilots who has a problem with old, overweight and gay flight attendants. Not a big deal, you'd think - except when you're stoopid enough to complain about them WITH YOUR MIC OPEN! My favorite part (well, one of them) is that an air traffic controller comes on to warn that someone's mic is on and this dolt doesn't even bother to check his, just keeps whining. It took two warnings before he shut his transmission down.

Yeah, I'm sure the diversity training he was forced to take really stuck.

Dude ! Where are your manners ? ! ?

Alright, I admit it - I have ranted and raved about this subject before back when I was Laynee (on my previous blog). For those of you who read it, feel free to move along, nothing new to see here. I was compelled to reblog about it, however, because sadly the situation still exits ...

Back last week when I was headed home following Jordan's skydiving adventure (see previous posting), I decided I would take the scenic route. It was a stunningly beautiful day - hot, bright and sunny. Jack was hanging out an open window and Van Halen was pounding out of the speakers. I came around a slight curve and saw an old man walking on the road up ahead. Naturally, I slowed down and gave the man a very wide berth. Checking my rear view mirror, I start to slide back into my lane only to notice the old man is still hugging the side of the road. I keep watching the rear view mirror and to my amazement, he whips it out. Yes. IT! He did! Once again, yet another man has decided to take a whiz in the great outdoors. While this is hardly the first time that I have been privy subjected to seeing a guy take a leak outside, I am still shocked when it happens. That particular day, once I got over my initial amazement, I tried to rationalize this stranger's behaviour. He's an old man, I thought, maybe he couldn't wait until he got home. Then Logical Elaine kicked in (she always does!). When, I asked myself, was the last time I saw an old woman hiking up her dress and squatting to void her bladder roadside? NEVER! For some reason, women have come to realize that the world is not our toilet, a fact that seems to escape a great many of the male gender. I have no problem with the idea of stopping on the side of the highway to hustle a young child out of a vehicle so they can pee; I have done it on occasion when my own kids were small. The point is, kids have not yet mastered the art of self-control. Adults, on the other hand, are supposed to have achieved that level of physical and social development. Yet all over the planet, there are scads and scads of men who apparently still need their mom, girlfriend, wife, fiancée, roommate, best bud, boss or whoever to ask them if they remembered to go pee pee before they head out. C'mon guys! Go tinkle BEFORE you go out. And if the urge hits while you're out, find a bathroom or gee, I don't know ... try holding it? (Umm, for those of you who can't, they have bladder control that looks like underwear these days, ya know!) Failing all that, you risk grossing out women everywhere ... and descending a rung or two down the evolutionary ladder ... not to mention, a hefty $365 fine!

Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm off to the powder room ... to, umm, powder my nose!  ;-)

Squirrels, squirrels everywhere ... squirrels, squirrels best beware!

Why? Because I have a cat with a taste for squirrels. The season's kill count is up to two, lifetime total of three. This morning finds a squirrel tail on the back balcony. Three possibilities exist - one of the cats brought back the tail from the latest victim or somewhere there's a squirrel running around without a tail or there's been a further fatality. Either way, there's a squirrel tail on my back balcony that I'm going to have to dispose of.


I'm really starting to hate squirrels!