St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital

I'm ready to go on my rounds!

Hiya, Friends!  Well, I've started my internship at St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital.  I betchya didn't know I was even in medical school.  Well, I was, and I'll tell ya how. 

'Member how I said that pre-babies have access to lotsa information while they're studying up on how to be people?  Well, some of that information is medical school.  I saw it in an informational brochure and signed up, which accounts for some of the why I was late getting here (something I will never hear the end of from Mommy, as she's STILL talking about it!).

Anyway, I had some finishin' up to do in the last coupla years, and now I'm doing my internship.  My specialty is going to be Medicinal Laughter.  I'm going to be the kind of doctor that you visit when your funny bone is out of order.  When you can't get a decent belly-laugh going.  When your tickle-box won't flip.

They say that laughter's the best medicine, and it's my aim to be the best practitioner of the best medicine!

I think I'm sitting on my pager again.

An internship at St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital is really hard! For one thing, I write notes in a lot of charts.  A LOT of them.  Lots of little tasks called "scut."  The residents and attendings say we interns learn from scut, but I think it's just work they don't wanna do, so they say 'hey! that intern looks eager!' and they give the scut to us.  Whatever.  Everybody got their dues in life to pay.  At least that's what Aerosmith says.

Another thing I do as an intern at St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital is go on rounds with my resident and whichever attending I'm assigned to that day.  All of us interns follow behind our resident or our attending like a gaggle of geese, and they ask us questions and we answer the questions. We try not to say stupid things in front of the patients!

Friends, I take Funny Medicine very seriously!

Sometimes we get to try our hand at fixing a funny bone or flipping a tickle-box all on our own.  That's the most challenging and rewarding part of being an intern at St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital, Friends.  It's challenging because each patient is unique, and there's no solid set of steps to follow for a successful cure.  Sometimes, our attempts at helping the patient are an abject failure, and we get things like bedpans thrown at our heads.  The patients can be a tough crowd, but I guess you would be, if your funny bone was broken, or if your tickle-box won't flip!  So we hafta remember to be compassionate, no matter how grumpy our patients are!

The thing I stay focused on is that every day I get to help people.  Laughter is a great thing.  And someday, I'll get to be an attending physician at St. Laffalotatus- Mercy-Mercy Hospital, and I'll have a gaggle of interns of my own to fetch me bambinoccinos and lab reports and to write in my charts...

For now, though, I've gotta go.  I'm on-call, and my pager's going crazy.  I'll see ya tomorrow, Friends!  I love ya! Muah!  Gottagobye!

I LOVE Shoes!

What is THIS magical thing in my hands?

Friends.  I've recently found Mommy's Stash of Shoes, and I've gotta tell you.  It's an Aladdin's Cave of Wonders.

Until this point, all I've gotten to wear on my feet, shoe-wise, are booties like what babies wear, sensible Mary Janes, even if they ARE silver, my Rainbow Sandals,  a coupla pairs of little cowgirl boots, my water-shoes, and my little sneakers.

Never, ever have I ever SEEN such cool shoes as what my Mommy has!  And the kicker is she doesn't even wear the COOLEST ones very often!  Usually she wears slip-on sneaker-clogs, rain boots, or regular sneakers, but I found a pair of black leather boots with HEELS on 'em that look like they could hurt somebody if ya stepped on 'em with those heels!

These look great on me and toughen up my outfit!

When I put 'em on, I felt so COOL, and so TALL!  You bet I did!  And another thing, as you can see from the pictures, they went GREAT with my outfit.  I love to work in contrasts, and I thought those boots toughened up my sweet-pink out fit just the right amount! 

Oh, wow, how I love those boots!

It wasn't meant to be, though.  Mommy says my feet are too little, that they're made for her size, and not mine, and I need to stick to my silver Mary Janes and my rainbow sandals.

MAH-MEE! I'm gonna go ahead and keep these, mmmkay?!!

Thing of it is, I've seen how cool it can be to wear black leather high-heeled boots, and I want a pair of my very own, in MY size, and also a black leather jacket.  I think this is how my style's gonna run.

What's that? ... No, I have NOT become my mother!  Look at me!  I'm WAY more fabulous in those boots than she is!  I have snap and panache that Mommy only WISHES she had!

Well, whatever, Friends.  Think whatever you want.  I'm going hunting for more fabulous shoes, because the thing of it is, I just LOVE 'em!

Letters 'n' Numbers Together in Unholy Alliance!

I like to know what's ahead!

Hiya, Friends! 

Hey, if you know me, and if you've been following along at home, I think you do, you know that I'm a girl who likes to be prepared.  Doesn't matter whether it's things or stuff, I like to study up on it and be prepared for it. 

As this is the first week of school for a lotta people I know, I decided to get on the good ol' Internet and see what's in store for me when I start school in a few years. 

Friends, I see it starts off pretty easy.  Letters, numbers, colors, shapes.  Stringing letters together into some words.  Adding and subtracting numbers.  Cutting, coloring, painting, pasting.

I think I can handle that!

But then somewhere down the pike, I'm gonna hafta do something called Algebra.  Friends, do you know anything about this?  Algebra.  From what I can see, algebra is letters 'n' numbers banded together in unholy alliance.

Um, 'solve for X.' ... Why?

Now, Mommy says this unholy pairing is nothing to be afraid of, but upon closer investigation, it turns out Mommy did really poorly in math herself, especially in the algebras, geometry, trigonometry, and calculus.

Calculus.  Isn't that something the hygienists at my Daddy's office scrape off people's teeth with pointy instruments?

Sorry, that was gross, but I'm sure you get my point.  Those things sound scary, and Mommy's telling me not to be afraid of it rings disingenuous in my ears, since Mommy herself was scared to death of anything too numbery when she was in school.

Daddy, on the other hand, was evidently good at numbery things.  That's great and all, but understand where I'm coming from when I say that someone who was GOOD at the lettery numbers and the numbery letters is hardly a good source of comfort for someone who's experiencing anxiety over this sort of thing.  If you're naturally good at something, you don't understand why someone who might not be hyperventilates once A and B and C come to the 1-2-3 party. 

I mean, I don't know if I'm good at math yet or not.  I sorta hope I am.  I mean I really hope numbers are my thing.  It'd be helpful!  Right now, it's too early to tell.  When I count to ten right now, this is how I do it.  Are you ready?  Okay:
One, two, three, eleven, five, six, eleven, eight, nine, ten, Yay ZOZIE!
Somehow, I keep coming up with two elevens.  How does that happen?  Don't get me wrong.  I like the Number Eleven, obviously, but I can't help but notice that the other numbers show up only once in that sequence, so it just doesn't ring true for eleven to turn up twice.

I can count to One right now, so I'm gonna take things One day at a time!

Also, the other day, I discovered an "Algebra for Dummies" book sitting in the dining room, and when I saw it, I said "Oh, Mommy, really!" and walked off in a huff, because I thought she'd gotten it for me already, and that it was premature to call me a dummy at algebra before I've even gone to school, and she told me some story that it isn't for me at all, but it's for her, because she wants to get good at algebra before I get to that point in school.  I don't know whether to believe her or not.  I don't.  If you don't HAFTA do algebra, Friends, for reasons such as already having your high school diploma and a coupla degrees, WHY on EARTH would you do algebra just for fun?

You never know, though, Friends.  You never know.  Maybe Mommy IS trying to get better at Algebra. 

I do know that from where I stand right now, it all looks a bit overwhelming, so I'm gonna stick to my Stacking Tower!  Yes I am!

It's Wednesday Again!

I hear that camel's been outta work for years!

Hiya, Friends!  Have I told you about the camel that's been terrorizing my office building on Wednesdays?  Have I mentioned it?  I know I have over on the Facebook, but I can't remember if I've said anything about it here on the blog.  If I have, I apologize.  If not, here's the backstory:

All of a sudden, this camel shows up and starts asking everybody in sight what day it is.  Like this: "Guess.  What day.  It is!" or "Guess. What. Day. It. IS!!!!"  The first time it happened, I thought it was kinda funny, but also bewildering, because he asked me, and I said "Wednesday?!" and was apparently wrong.  Not that it wasn't Wednesday, because it was Wednesday, but that wasn't the answer the camel was looking for.  Apparently he wanted to hear all of us say "It's Hump Day!"

Camels apparently get a kick out of Hump Day, because they have humps on their backs.  But so does Melanie from the switchboard, and she doesn't like us to mention it.  She even told the camel to shut up!

What's that? ... He's lookin' for me to ask me what day it is?

While I thought it was rude of Melanie from the switchboard to tell the camel to shut up, I DID get kinda tired of him going around asking everybody what day it was, and getting the same answer.

What made it worse, though, is that I was there when hump-back Melanie from the switchboard told the camel to shut up, and I felt bad for the camel because clearly, he had his own agenda, and Melanie had her own way of seeing things, and they weren't even on the same track, but she thought they were, and things got ugly and I was in the middle of it.  So I tried to befriend the camel.  I didn't know what was going on at first, because I was in a meeting up on the Top Floor when the camel got here.  I didn't want him to think EVERYBODY in our building was as sensitive as Melanie.

But the camel didn't want to conversate in a normal manner.  He found out my name's Zoe, and he told me to guess what day it is.  I thought it was never gonna end!  Never! 

Wow.

And now, every Wednesday, that camel comes strutting past the security kiosk, up the elevator, and to my department.  I can hear him the minute he gets out on my floor.  "Zoooooooooooeeeeeeeeee!  Guess. What. Day. It. Is!!!!"

So anyway, I've been trying to do a little background checking on the Hump Day Camel, and I guess his name's Joe.  He usedta be a big, famous advertising icon.  He was on posters and billboards and promotional items, and then some big laws changed, and Joe was out of work.  And now, he's all excited because he's gotten a new job with an insurance company.  I can't remember which one it is, but it isn't the one my VW Microbus is insured with.

Last week, I met another camel at a petting zoo, and I asked the camel about Joe's strange behavior on Wednesdays.  That camel didn't think it was strange, but I got a second opinion from the giraffes, and they said that it's strange, but it's a camel thing.

'Scuse me, Friends! I'm gonna go hide in the ladies' room 'til Thursday!

Still.  I've come up with a strategy for avoiding Joe the Camel on Wednesdays, so I won't be caught up in his "What day is it?" game.  I've decided that I'll just hang out in the Ladies' Room until Thursday on these Wednesdays.  The Ladies' Room on my floor is really nice.  It smells like potpourri, and it has a lounge area before you go into the actual ladies' room part.  I could take my laptop in there and get lotsa work done on Wednesdays, waiting out Joe Camel.

That's my plan. And as today's Wednesday, I'll be testing it out.  Wish me luck, Friends!  I'll see ya tomorrow!  Muah!

When A Couple Extra Weeks Adds Up To A Whole Extra Year

To tell the truth, Friends, I just wasn't ready.

Well, Friends, today's August Twenty-Seventh, and my whole life so far, August Twenty-Seventh can't pass without Mommy reminding me that TODAY was SUPPOSED to be my birthday, but I decided to wait around for another coupla weeks.

Good grief, she oughtta set it to music and play it on the radio.

Now, I read the baby brochure, too, when I signed on to be a kid.  What's that? ... Yeah.  I had access to all kinds of knowledge before I was born.  ... No, I don't know how, but I distinctly remember having access to it, and using the access to the knowledge.  Stop interrupting me.  I'm in the middle of a story.

ANYWAY, I remember reading a very specific thing warning mommies not to get too attached to a due-date, because it's very rare that babies come along on the very day they're supposed to.  Apparently Mommy read that and thought 'well, MY baby will be on-time,' and if you know Mommy, you know how ridiculous that is, because she's rarely on-time for things, so why was she expectating that out of me?

I read that and figured I'd get to take my own sweet time making my way into the world, and then I just focused on the things I needed to do as a pre-baby. 

You mean to tell me I hafta wait a whole extra year for kindergarten?

Being a pre-baby is a LOT of work, Friends, in case you've forgotten since your days as a pre-baby.  It was a long time ago for me, but not all that long ago in the grand scheme of things, so trust me when I tell you, being a pre-baby is exhausting, and pre-babies don't need all that pressure from their mommies, worrying about them getting here on-time.  I mean, babies and pre-babies aren't FedEx packages!

I thought I was being a pretty cool customer, letting August the Twenty-Seventh come and go, and me staying all nice and comfy-cozy right where I was.  Hey, I knew I was coming along in a little while.  I could hear Mommy talking to her doctor.  I knew they were conspiring against me from Day One, so if they thought they were being clever and thinking they were gonna surprise me with making me be born before I was ready, they both got to think again, now, didn't they?

A whole year?!  The humanity!

Well, as it goes, apparently the joke was on me.  What I failed to pick up, knowledge-wise, when I was a pre-baby, was that my school has a thing called a cutoff date, and what this means is that if I woulda been born before September First, I could go to school in the year Twenty-Sixteen.  That sounds like fun!  However, I was born a week and a day after September First, so now I hafta wait a whole extra year, into Twenty-Seventeen, before I can ride the schoolbus and carry a lunch pail and backpack and be mayor of the playground.

The older I get, the more this distresses me.  I mean, I've been through almost two years at home with Mommy already, and I realize I'm not even halfway through my Early Life Sentence.  I still have FOUR MORE YEARS to go!  Aaaaargh!  If I could go back to my pre-baby self, I'd tell me that August the Twenty-Seventh is a FINE birthday to have, and to skedaddle!

The thing of it is, I guess Mommy was pretty upset with me, not arriving on August the Twenty-Seventh, back in Eleven.  I guess it really cramped her style.  But the more I listen to the subtext when she talks, the more I get the impression that she's GLAD I'm stuck here at home with her for the extra year.  The message comes through loud and clear that she LIKES having me around, so I don't have any hope of an early release.

I guess I'll hafta make the best of it now, Friends, because it is what it is.  August the Twenty-Seventh is NOT my birthday.  September the Ninth is, and I'm gonna hafta just grin and bear it for a few more years.

I guess this is why pre-babies aren't allowed to make more decisions for themselves.  I guess this is just why, Friends.

Hiccoughs

I can't stop these hiccoughs.

Man, oh man, Friends!  The other day, I had a heck of a case of the hiccoughs.  They were the kind where I'd hiccough, and it'd make my shoulders jump and my belly jerk, and to be honest, it kinda hurt somewhere down at the bottom of my esophagus.  It really did, which is why I asked Mommy to please help me get rid of this scourge that is hiccoughs.

Well, she had a buncha things to tell me to do that didn't work at all.  Hold my breath, she said.  Right.  I tried that, and I don't know how, and even if I DID know how to hold my breath, what a stupid thing to tell somebody to do.  I need my breath in order to breathe, so holding it just seems stupid!

Now, why'd you scare me like that?!

Try thinking of something else, she said.  And that one showed promise.  I thought of everything else besides my hiccoughs, and it worked great until I had another hiccough, and then all's I could think of once again were my hiccoughs, so that was another strike in the book of Zoe versus the hiccoughs.

Then Mommy got me a paper bag and told me to breathe into it.  Whatever.  I didn't wanna breathe into the paper bag.  Have you ever breathed into a paper bag, Friends?  The air's all hot and jungly in a paper bag, and breathing into it makes me feel like I'm gonna run out of air!  What's Mommy trying to do?  Get rid of your pal Zoe?  Sheesh!

Oh, I see.  Yes, the hiccoughs are all gone now!

And then I marched off in a big huff.  Might just as well.  If you're gonna march off in a huff, you might as well make sure it's a big huff, because a bigger huff makes more of an impact than a little huff.  Think about it.  If someone's in a little huff, you just think they need a bran muffin or maybe just a moment, but if somebody's in a Big Huff, you know something is gonna hit the fan soon, and that's the message I wanted to convey to Mommy.  I'd really had it with her and her stupid fake hiccough remedies.

She came up behind me and made a big noise and grabbed me, and it scared me, right in mid-hiccough!  Boy, was I ever mad at her for pulling such a thing!  And I was just about to tell her so, but what happened next was amazing.

No more hiccoughs!  Mommy scared 'em right outta me!

And then I needed new underbritches, because the hiccoughs weren't all that escapade scared out of me.  Holy Moly.

Goals

My goodness, you're full of questions about my plans!

Friends, I've had a devil of a time recently.  It's nothing major.  I'd say they're all first-world problems, so I'm lucky to have these kinds of problems and not real-world problems like not having clean water to drink or having tigers chase me whenever I'm waiting for the elephant caravan to come pick me up.

No, the thing that's been kind of upsetting me lately is that I'm having a Big Birthday coming up, the second one, and everybody's been bugging me about what I'm gonna do now:

Will I learn the alphabet properly, using "LMNOP" instead of saying "lemonlemonpeel" whenever I get to the middle part?

Meh. Goals are misleading...

Will I count to twelve the right way, instead of switching seven and eleven?  (I'll tell ya what.  I like eleven better than I like seven!)

Am I gonna stop opening the real refrigerator and using the bottom shelf as a seat? (NO! If the makers of our refrigerator hadn't intended that to be my seat, they woulda put the ice maker there so I couldn't sit there!)

What colleges am I gonna look into?

Am I gonna go to dental school someday?

And my absolute favorite: Zoe, are you ever gonna learn to use the potty?

To these questions, I say: STOP BUGGIN' ME!!!

My goodness!  Isn't it enough that I can eat a sandwich without using my feet?  Isn't it enough that I can speak in sentences that even people who aren't Mommy can understand, mostly? 

I'll get the alphabet, eventually.  I'll make my peace with the order of the numbers someday.  As for the potty... Just leave me alone about that.  I don't ask you about YOUR goals for potty usage, now, do I?

Why, because the unaimed arrow always hits its mark!

I think it's nothing short of folly, expecting a little kid like me to have a goal for everything.  No, no, hear me out. The unaimed arrow never misses its mark.  I know to some of you Big People, that's gonna sound like irresponsible talk, but think about it:

I'm less than a month away from being TWO!  If I get a goal in mind right now, and home in on it with laser-focus, I might be missing out on a lot of other cool things I never even thought of yet.  So I like to just live my life right now and keep my options open.  That's what I'm gonna do.  I've made up my mind, which is why I haven't asked you if that sounds good to you.  Honestly, I love ya like a buddy, but in the end, the only person who gets to decide what my goals are and when I start following 'em is me.  That's just how it's got to be.

But Friends, as soon as I get a goal in my sights, you'll be among the first to know, I'm sure, okay?  Deal?  Deal!

I love ya!  Always!  Muah!

I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles!

The ol' soap-a-dope trick.

Hiya, Friends!  You know what?  For as pretty as bubbles are, they sure don't taste very good!  How do I know?  Well, I'll tell ya!

You see, I've been fascinated with bubbles for over half my life.  I have bubbles when I take a bath.  In the warmer weather, my Big People blow bubbles for me, or sometime, we even get to use the bubble machine!  I even have a lawnmower that'll blow bubbles for me, and I think that's pretty rad!

But I've been wanting to expand my bubbly horizons and learn to blow bubbles myself, so I took the wand out of the bucket of solution, put it up to my lips, and blew. 

Friends, I didn't know that you're not s'posed to put the bubble wand right on your mouth, so I had bubble solution all over my lips.  It tastes SOAPY!

Now that's a flavor that's not delicious!

I'm not sure what I expected bubbles to taste like.  I didn't expect 'em to taste like soap.  I'm a little kid.  I can be excused for thinking things are going to taste differently than they do, based on how they look.

I guess if I really had to say what I thought bubbles would taste like, I'd probably say I thought bubbles would be sweet, kind of like sugar, either simple or maple, depending on your bubble solution.  They're so pretty and floaty and iridescent that I'd think they'd be sweet!

I certainly wouldn't expect 'em to burn the ol' eyes when they pop near your face.

I guess I'd file my knowledge under wiser, but sadder that bubbles are not sweet like sugar or syrup, and that they make your eyes sting if you try to catch one to eat it, and it pops near your face. 

I think I'm gonna go get some icy-peem now!

The older I get, the more of those moments I have, that make me wiser, but also sadder.  Do you ever get that, Friends?  I bet you do.  It seems to be part of the human condition.  It seems to be a condition of growing up and learning the way the world works.

I'm not going to let it get me down, though, Friends.  I still love bubbles, and I'm just gonna accept that they're made of soap, that they DO burn the eyes if they pop near your eyes, that they don't taste like sugar, and that you can't lick the bubble wand while you're trying to blow bubbles.  I'll learn to accept bubbles on their own terms, and I hope they accept me on my terms. 

That's my game-plan, Big People!  So off I go!  I'm forever blowing bubbles!

Well, maybe first, I'll go eat something nice 'n' sweet, to get this soapy taste off my lips!

Fun Is Exhausting

Having fun is exhausting.

Hiya, Friends!

Well, I've been having a lot of fun lately, and I'll tell ya what.  Havin' fun is exhausting!

I'm not saying it's a bad problem to have, being tired out because of all the fun you've been having.  I'd say as far as problems go, it's a pretty good one to have.  I mean, I'm not gonna stop having fun so I won't be tired out anymore.  You know?

So I have a plan.  What I'm gonna do about this is keep on keepin' on with the fun, with all eight cylinders.  But to prevent feeling so tired all the time, I've decided that I'll go to bed at a decent time every night, take my naps like clockwork, unless they interfere with the fun I'm having, and make sure I eat to win.

I depend on my naps these days.

You would think I don't have much of a choice in any of these matters, because Mommy and Daddy tell me when to go to bed, and they tell me what to eat, but I'll tell you what, Friends, I've found ways around all that.  Mommy and Daddy can take me to my room and put me in my crib, but once they close the door, I don't hafta sleep.  Oh, no!  I have lotsa stories about how I stay up talking to my toys that stay with me when I'm in my room, instead of sleeping.  And just 'cause there's food on my plate at mealtime, doesn't mean I hafta eat it.

But I'm gonna keep on havin' fun!

The thing of it is, the only person I'm short-changing when I don't take my nap or when I don't eat is me, and you know what?  I'm a kid who likes to eat.  I like my brain to be nice-n-sharp.

I like to think of it as having figured out the game, Friends, not that I'm buckling to what The Man wants me to do.  Or in this case what Mommy and Daddy want me to do.

I have a lot of fun to have, Friends, and I need to be at the top of my game for that, because as I'm starting to find out, havin' fun is EXHAUSTING!

The Spirit of Vacation, Always!

I'll keep the spirit of Vacation with me always!

Well, Friends.  I've been home for a coupla weeks now, from my wonderful Lake Vacation, but going over the pictures for the blog has made me feel like I got to relive the fun while I wrote my posts. 

I feel like I grew a lot as a person at the lake.  Before we went to the lake, the biggest body of water I'd been near was my Mushroom Swimming Pool.  Seriously.  

Because my Daddy tried to paddleboard and fell in the water and then laughed to let me know he was all right, and then he got back up on the paddleboard and tried again, I learned that even if I fall down, even if I fall into water, I can get back up and try again.  I don't have to let falling define who I am or what I'm about.  It's the getting up that I need to practice and keep practicing.

I learned that there are lots of treasures to be found at the place where the water meets the land.  Aunt Colleen and I picked up lotsa interesting rocks and fossils and even some pretty glass that looked like it'd gone through a rock tumbler.  Before I went to the lake, I woulda thought that stuff wasn't all that special, but seeing it all lined up like Aunt Colleen and I had it, I saw that there's prettiness to be seen in the seemingly insignificant things.  You just have to look for it.

That's what I learned on my vacation, Friends.  That's the spirit I want to keep with me always.  And I'm going to. 

Plus, I'm gonna find a little vacation in every day if I can.  You'd be surprised how vacationish wearing a pair of neat goggles and a sunhat can make you feel, Friends.  So that's where I'm gonna start, by golly! 

See ya tomorrow!  Muah!

A Diverse Feast

Cookin' for a diverse group can be a challenge!

Hiya, Friends! 

Well, have you ever had to cook for a buncha people, but all those people have different things they like and don't like and can eat and don't eat? 

I recently hosted a dinner for the Little Giraffes and some of the other Little Animals from the Steppes, as well as a delegation of Tiger Babies and such, and had to come up with a meal that would suit everybody, wouldn't offend anyone, and also wouldn't upset anybody's allergies!

I knew it was gonna be a doozie of a task, especially that thing about making everybody happy and not offending anybody.  Especially since I was cookin' for such a diverse group, with very strong opinions!

Yoo-hoo!  Does anybody want vegan gravy?  Yes?  No?

Fortunately, nobody had any food allergies.  That kind of thing can really complicate matters for somebody cookin' for a large group!  And you don't wanna not invite anybody because they have allergies.  That'd be too bad!  So you hafta learn to accommodate 'em, or know to keep your dining room stocked with lotsa epi-pens, just in case.

But hooray for me, I didn't hafta worry about that.  What I had to worry about was fixing something that would keep the Tiger Babies and other omnivores feeling like they got something to eat, but wouldn't make the Little Giraffes and other herbivores uncomfortable or make 'em feel victimized.  You do not want to make your dinner guests feel victimized, Friends.  You just don't.

I mean, it's just Poor Form.

Next time, I'm gonna let a caterer handle this!

So I ended up thinking outside the roasting pan and I made Mango-Coconut Soup with Tofu Croutons and Mandarin Oranges, and also a nice, green salad with mixed greens and a delightful lime-coconut dressing. I served my salads on palm-leaves, and the Mango-Coconut Soup with Tofu Croutons and Mandarin Oranges was chilled and served in those fancy glasses that look like they're wearing high heels!  It was great!

There were some that made snoots about having cold soup whipped and served in a footed glass, but most everyone else loved it all!  It made me feel really good inside that I could pull that all off without using any meat or dairy products, and if anybody was offended, at least it was their taste-buds that was offended and not their very selves.  You know?

So I'm proud of me for pulling it all off, but I'll tell ya what, Friends.  Next time, I'm gonna call upon the services of a good caterer to juggle everything!

Where Do I Get My Energy?

People who meet me wonder where I get my energy!

Hiya, Friends!  People often ask me where I get my energy.  They wanna know if I sleep plugged in to some sort of device that charges my batteries overnight, or if my Mommy puts RedBull in my sippy cup.

The answer is no, I don't sleep plugged into some battery-charging device.  Could YOU sleep, hooked up to something like that?  As for RedBull, what even is that?  All I get in my sippy cup is milk or water.  I don't even get to drink juice!

No, don't feel bad for me.  I don't miss it.  I don't miss drinking juice.  I've had juice at two restaurants, and while it was neat to drink out of a box, juice just doesn't do it for me.  It's okay!  Seriously!

I don't know where I get it, really, the energy.

And before you can ask, no, Mommy doesn't give me lots of things with sugar in it, so my energy is not actually sugar-fueled mania.  It's honest-to-goodness energy. 

I kind of think it's just the way I am.

Do I have my days where I feel sort of sluggish, logy, tired, and otherwise dopey?  I suppose so.  I have definitely made my peace with naps, mostly.  I don't like to nap when there's other things to see, like when I'm in the car.  Mommy can sleep in the car, just like that, so long's she isn't driving.  I don't know how she does it, but I've sat and watched her fall right to sleep that I know it's true.  The point of that is I think part of my energy comes from getting adequate rest.

But I when I feel sluggish, I decide, 'NO!' and power on!  Rah!

And I eat well.  I have my things I eat as a treat, like some chocolate or icy-peem.  Cookies and donuts.  But those things are so much in moderation that I wouldn't even say they're moderation.  They're mostly every-once-in-a-while treats.

So rest, good food.  That adds up to serious energy, if that helps you, Friends.  And of course, there's the hydration.  I like to stay properly hydrated.  If I don't stay properly hydrated, I get a little grouchy.  My head feels like there's a belt around it, and somebody's snugging it up, and nobody likes that!  So I drink my water! 

And on the days when I do feel less than super, I just decide that the doldrums are not going to get me.  I look myself in the eye with the help of a mirror and I say 'Zoe WithLizardbreath, snap out of this funk and jump up and say WOOOOOOO!' and at that point, I jump up and shout 'WOOOOOOO!!!!!' and do a little dance, and then I'm on my way.  My energetic way.  So maybe some of it is a mind-set, and I'm glad I could set my mind to ENERGY!  Right?  Right!

I love ya, Friends!  Muah!

Just Droppin' In

Catch me, Uncle Lorentz! I'm droppin' in to see you!

Whee!  Well, Friends, while I was on vacation, I found a new way of making an entrance: just droppin' in!  You see, I've become very adept at walking, running, shuffling, dancing, sliding, and tripping into a room, so all that stuff is yesterday's news.  I like to turn heads and make people say "Wow!" so I was thrilled when Uncle Lorentz helped me out and we figured out how I could just drop right in out of the sky on people!

If I told you how I did it, it'd be like finding out how the magician turns the Kleenex into the dove.  Suffice it to say it took some magic.

This way of making an entrance definitely elicits a big "OH WOW!" from people! 

And that, Friends, never gets old.

It involves pulling a cord.  That's all I'm gonna say.

Now, I know I need to be judicious about where and when and upon whom I just drop in.  For instance, if I ever get to go to Cirque du Soleil (and I really, really wanna, hint, hint!), it probably wouldn't be a good idea to just drop in on anyone.  They might think I'm part of the show, and not know to catch me.  Or worse.  They might think I'm part of the show and think I have the lamest Cirque du Soleil costume in the history of the Grand Chapiteau.

This reminds me.  Somebody remind me that come Halloween-time, I wanna dress up like a Cirque du Soleil performer!

Anyway.  I also wouldn't want to just drop in on someone if they're watching a movie in a movie theater.  It could unnerve them and the other patrons, and also be almost as irritating as someone texting through the whole entire movie.

When I do any magic trick, I like to stay hydrated.  It's so important!

A restaurant would be a poor place for me to just drop in on a friend.  If you think a fly in your soup would be something strange to deal with, a Zoe in your soup would really take the cake.

Nope, I've pretty much gotta be choosy about where I just drop in on someone.  I've gotta make sure it's safe, and I'm not going to fall through a glass table or fall down an open manhole cover.  I've gotta make sure the person I'm dropping in on is ready to catch me.  That is a critical, critical component to the whole trick.  I've gotta confirm and double-confirm that they're not driving, eating, using a sharp utensil, doing calligraphy on a valuable piece of parchment and using indelible ink, giving or getting a tattoo, or watching a hockey game.

It really isn't as complicated as it sounds, Friends!  And it's so much fun!  So be prepared.  Keep your chin up and your eyes on the sky, because you never know when your pal Zoe's gonna be droppin' in on YOU!  Muah!

Splish-Splash!

I looked out at the Lake, and Daddy was standing on a paddle board!

Hiya, Friends!  Well, I'll tell you something.  I love water!  This should come as no surprise, since you know I spend time in my mushroom swimming pool at my house, and one of the top things I look forward to when I attend a Little Giraffe Convention is the swim-up donut bar, so that I can combine my two favorite things: donuts and swimming.

You know, that whole thing about not swimming and eating is an urban legend.  You won't get cramps if you eat and then swim in less than an hour! 

Next thing I knew, Daddy fell and went 'splash!'

That isn't what I'm talking about today, though.  I'm talking about just the fun of swimming.  Getting in the water.

Recently during my Lake Vacation, Uncle Lorentz and Aunt Colleen rented a kayak and a paddle board for all of us to try.  I got to ride in the kayak, and that was a lot of fun for me.  The paddle board was too challenging for me.  It's pretty much this board you stand on and row around the lake with! 

Aunt Colleen hopped on that thing and went skeeting all over the Lake with it!  She could turn on a dime with that big board!  It was so much fun to watch!

Daddy tried it out, too, and I got to watch him. Now, it was a windy day, with the water doing jumping jacks, but Daddy tried out that paddle board, just the same.  I watched him hop up on the board, and then the waves got really wavy, just like they KNEW my Daddy was trying to stand on a paddle board, and next thing I saw, Daddy's feet were up in the air and I heard a SPLASH!!!

He's okay.  Just got a little wet!

"Daddy fall!" I said to Gramma!  And Gramma told Daddy to laugh!  "Laugh!" she said, "so Zoe knows you're all right!"

And Daddy laughed.

I guess that made it all better, so far as I was concerned.

What Daddy did next really inspired me, Friends!  Do you know what my Daddy did? 

Daddy got back up on that paddle board and tried again!  He gave it another shot!  That made a bigger impact on me than if Daddy woulda hopped on that paddle board and paddled around that lake like a pro.  It really meant a lot to see my Daddy work at that paddle board, and to fall off and see him get right back on it. 

That's a lesson I'm gonna carry with me: if ya fall off the paddleboard and into the lake, you just get right up and try again until you get it!  Rah!

Paddle to the Sea!

Hey! Check me out! I'm on a boat!

Hiya, Friends!  You may notice that in today's pictures, I'm riding in a boat, and I've gotta say, I love it!

I believe the type of boat I'm riding in is called a 'kayak.'  I call it 'fun that floats!'   I don't know what it is about being on the water that's so thrilling and relaxing- yes, both at the same time!  I think we could call it 'thrillaxing.'  Yes.  I like that!  Anyway, it is thrillaxing to be on the water.  I think it's relaxing because the water has kind of a rhythm all its own.  There are currents and waves, and you can kind of just get carried away.  It's thrilling to be on the water because it's something I don't get to do every day, and also, there's a whole entire world underneath the water that I don't even know that much about! 

In the days before cars, hopping in a boat and paddling away was the way to get around.  I couldn't help but think about that while I was in the kayak on the lake. 

Another thing I couldn't stop thinking about was that there's supposedly a monster that lives in Seneca Lake!  How about that?!  I don't know what its name is.  I was kind of disappointed that I didn't get to meet the Seneca Lake Monster, because I would have liked to ask it its name, and introduce myself, and maybe see if there's anything I could do to help it be more understood among my people.

I mean, maybe the Seneca Lake Monster isn't even a monster at all, but the day it first came into contact with any people, it coulda had a headache and appeared not to be very friendly.  I don't think it's fair to judge him on that one encounter. 

We take our paddling very seriously, and also I'm lookin' for the Seneca Lake Monster!

That's my one disappointment with my Seneca Lake vacation, Friends.  I never got to see the Monster, let alone introduce myself and find out if I can help him at all. 

The rest of the time was really fun, though, and I DID discover that I really like kayakin'. 

Maybe next year, I'll get to meet the Monster and help him out!

Dancing Queen

I like the way Hula Dancing tells a story!

Hiya, Friends!  As you know, I love to dance.  Dancing is my thing.  When I'm happy, I dance.  When I'm sad, I dance to make myself feel better.  When I'm nervous, I dance to burn off extra energy.

If you were to ask me what kinds of dances are my favorite, I'd hafta say all of them.  You know, there's just a whole world out there, and so many ways to dance that it's hard to pick just one. 

Right now, Hula Dancing is pretty new to me.  I decided to learn it when I went on my recent vacation.  I didn't go to Hawaii, but I DID go to a lake house.  It doesn't matter that the lake house was in central New York State and not the Land of Aloha.  Aloha is a frame of mind you can take anywhere with you, so I took my Aloha to Seneca Lake and decided to learn to Hula Dance.

I like the way Hula Dancing tells a story.  You use your arms and hands to tell a story about palm trees waving in the breeze, or the ocean, or volcanoes.  Since where I live and where I've vacationed so far doesn't have those things, but I like to Hula Dance, I adapt the dancing to suit my situation.  When I tell a story with my Hula Dance, I tell a story about maple trees, and creeks, and windy days.  I talk about thunderstorms and cows in the yard!

Dance like nobody's watching, Friends!

Purists would frown on the way I adapt my Hula Dancing to suit what I know.  They'd say it isn't True Hula.  Well, to that I say that's just fine.  I'm not out to win any Authentic Hula Dancing For Little White Girls From the Snowbelt awards.  You know what I'm saying?  I think the true spirit of Aloha and Hula allows for little kids like me to make it my own.  'This is Zoe's own hula dance," I think.  And I think the gods and goddesses of the dance smile.

I'm not trying to come off like I'm from Hawaii.  I just love the way Hawaiians are so friendly and inclusive, and I think their dancing is beautiful.  I like to learn about their culture, and try to learn how to be more Hawaiian in the sense of sharing the spirit of Aloha with the people I know, that I think my way of dancing is more authentic than if I'm trying to be somebody I'm not.  So I don't apologize for my Hula Fusion.

What I'm trying to say today, Friends, is that I think it's great to dance as though nobody's watching.  If you love the way a certain dance makes you feel, like I love how hula dancing makes me feel like I'm on vacation, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, then you go ahead and do your dance and don't listen to the criticizers.  Their criticism says more about them than it says about you, and you can tell 'em your pal Zoe says so!  I love ya, Friends!  Muah!

The Music of My Life

We should go caroling in August! It's warmer!

Hiya, Friends!  How are you today?

Boy, I'll tell you what.  This kid's brain is about on fire.  You know why?  Well, I'll tell ya.

I know it's August and all, but I can't get enough of hearing Christmas songs.

... Hey!  That wasn't very nice, throwing your beverage at me!  I barely had enough time to duck!  You coulda got me!!!

Anyway, I know it's August and all, but I've recently taken to hearing the Christmas songs in a book called 'Where Did They Hide My Presents?'  It's fun words set to regular Christmas carol tunes.  And I just love 'em.  It's like somebody crawled up into my mind and wrote down my thoughts in holiday-based tune.

Every time I get to pick what book I want, I tell Mommy and Daddy I wanna hear songs out of WDTHMP.  I'm not trying to rush the season.  I'm not ready to say good-bye to summer.  But I have a theory as to why I'm so attached to the Christmas Music, and I think you're gonna think this is as brilliant as I think it is.  Hold on!

Stay nice, Friends!  Santa's watchin'!!!

See, when it's Christmastime, it's cold outside. At least it should be, especially if you live in the Snowbelt like I do.  But in August, it's nicey warm.  So why can't we get our Christmas caroling out of the way NOW, while it's warm enough that people would want to traipse around singing, and other people would wanna stand in their open doorways, listenenig to 'em?  I've heard tell that there's people who do their Christmas cards this time of year, to get that task out of the way, but really, I think that's a nice job to do in front of a fire, with a big mugga cocoa.  In other words, that sounds like perfect cold-weather work to me.

Singing outside in the freeze and the chill, not so much.  So if we could just persuade ourselves and the other members of whatever community caroling group you happen to belong to, that August is the time to do the caroling, you might be surprised at all the time you have at the beginning of December to do your Christmas cards, since you wouldn't be busy recovering from a horrendous cold or hacking up part of a lung, because you caught a draft during your wintertime caroling.

Friends, I'm not being critical of the way you do things, but part of my job as a kid is to think about all the ways I'd change the world, now that I'm here, and this caroling thing in the wintertime is one spot where I think you have things all mixed around.

Think about it and get back to me!  I'll be rehearsing my scales!  Muah!

Shoppin' at Little Kid Grocery

That Pidgie McDougall just bought all the marshmallow salad.

Hiya, Friends!  As you may or may not know, I was born to shop.  This should come as no surprise.  And I really like it.  Shopping.  I even do my own shopping at the Little Kid Grocery. 

They have all my favorite things at the Little Kid Grocery.  They have cupcakes and sprinkles, and balloons, and back in the deli they have marshmallow salad.  Sometimes, it's even on sale!

That's where today's topic of inquiry focuses, actually, the deli counter at the Little Kid Grocery.  See, one day a coupla weeks back, I was in the Little Kid Grocery, just stocking up on a few things.  Sprinkles were on sale for a dollar forty-nine a pound, because they're in season right now, and I like to stock up on 'em this time of year and freeze 'em for when they're not in season and they get expensive.  Although this year, I hear the conditions were ripe for a bumper-crop of sprinkles, and the unusually large harvest could potentially keep sprinkle prices down well into the winter.  I sure hope so!  They're such a staple!

Anyway, marshmallow salad was also on sale in the deli, and I love marshmallow salad.  Everybody at Little Kid Grocery knows I love marshmallow salad, probably because every time I do the shopping, and I go back to the deli department, I say how much I love marshmallow salad.

Well. 

Sorry, Friends.  I'm disappointed and I need a moment.

That Pidgie McDougall was in front of me in the deli line, and she bought up the last five gallons of marshmallow salad. 

Who on Earth needs a five-gallon pail of marshmallow salad, Friends?  Who?  I mean, usually I'll buy a quart, which is what I was after that day anyway.  I'll share my quart of marshmallow salad with my friends at the office. You don't need a lot of that marshmallow salad, you know.  It's very dense on the calories and sugar and quite light on the nutrition, but it's a treat.  A guilty pleasure of mine, if you will.

Anyway, there was speculation over why Pidgie McDougall needed a five-gallon pail of marshmallow salad.  Someone suggested that she was going to invite me to share some with her.  I knew right from the start that was a preciously naive guess.  Pidgie isn't that kind of McDougall.

Also, we all wondered if maybe she was having a party, but nobody could really figure out who she'd invite to her party, even if she DID have marshmallow salad to offer.  Marshmallow Salad is tasty, but isn't worth putting up with Pidgie for that long.

I realize that sounds mean, but Pidgie McDougall has been my arch-nemesis since the first time I started shopping at The Little Kid Grocery.  Always keeping something stirred up.  Arguing with the stock-boys.  Trying to make the checker-outers take coupons that have expired and making them cry when they say they aren't allowed.  Bumping other shoppers out of her way with her cart so she can get to the good stuff before anybody else.

And then there's this: it finally came out why Pidgie McDougall bought the deli's last five gallons of marshmallow salad that day:  She saw me over in Sprinkles and Decorations, weighing the sprinkles I was buying, and heard me telling Hattie Halperin how happy I was that marshmallow salad was on special, because I love marshmallow salad.  So she hurried over to the deli to get there first, and she bought all the marshmallow salad, took it home, and you know what she did?

I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't heard it with my own two ears.  And I did.  I was a coupla people behind her at the deli counter, and they asked her how she liked her five-gallon pail of marshmallow salad, and she told them she ate a dish of that marshmallow salad and then let the rest spoil.

Okay, I'm all better!  Didn't need those calories this week, anyway!

I guess now you know that in the deli department at The Little Kid Grocery, they have a limit on how much marshmallow salad we can buy at once.  It's one gallon, so at least if we're having a party, we don't hafta make four separate trips into the store to get enough marshmallow salad.  We can still buy enough to share with our friends or co-workers.  But we can't buy five gallons and then let it all spoil.

It's a shame it's come to this, Friends.  Putting limits on how much marshmallow salad we're allowed to buy in one trip, but I hafta say, I agree with Management's decision.  As long as there are Pidgie McDougalls in the world, and they have pots to stir, there'll hafta be policies that seem to pinch the style of the rest of us.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy some marshmallow salad that the people from Little Kid Grocery set aside for me in the deli department.  That was good of 'em.  I love ya, Friends, and I'll see ya tomorrow, and please remember not to be a Pidgie McDougall!  Muah!

Hockey Fangirl

I can't wait for hockey season!

Hiya, Friends!  As you know, I'm a hockey fan.  Well, maybe you don't know.  I haven't talked about it with you in a long while.  Maybe I have.  I can't remember.  Sometimes I get things mixed up, whether I've talked about them over on the Facebook AND over here on the blog, or if I've just talked about something on one venue or the other.

So if you DON'T know, if you're somehow unaware of it, now you know.  I'm a lifelong fan of the Buffalo Sabres. 

I'll never forget the first hockey game I ever saw.  It was the Sabres.  They were playing the Anaheim Ducks in Helsinki, Finland.  Kevin Sylvester ate an eel on a stick during the pre-game show.  I remember this, because I was two days shy of being a month old, and Mommy, Daddy, and I were waiting at our Jeep dealership for them to do some minor fixes on our Red Jeep.  The game was at a funny time of day for a Friday hockey game: One o'clock in the afternoon. 

I dressed like Sabretooth today!

I remember all this, because at the time, I would eat every coupla hours, so at the beginning of the game, I enjoyed a Little Bottle of my Similac.  ... You know, I kinda miss that stuff.  I liked Similac! ... Anyway, I enjoyed my first bottle of Similac as the game started, and at first, it was a little weird to me.  But I started following along.  I fell under the spell of the play-by-play fellow's voice.  I'd never seen anything like that hockey game.

We got to watch that whole entire hockey game at the dealership that day, and the Buffalo Sabres won!  I was hooked, and I was delighted to find out that in just a coupla nights, I got to watch again!  This time, I was at my own house, and I got to see the hockey game on the bigscreen television, and I could finally see the little black dot those boys were chasing after!

It was so exciting, I can't even begin to tell you, but I'll try.  IT WAS REALLY EXCITING, BIG PEOPLE!!!

I learned the name of the fellow who does the play-by-play calls.  He's Rick Jeanneret!  And the way he describes what's going on in the game, I understand it!

How many more weeks 'til hockey?

These days, now that I've listened to and watched dozens, maybe even a couple hundred hockey games since that first one I saw back when I was almost a month old, whenever I hear Rick Jeanneret's voice, I say "Hockey!!!"  Honestly, I think of RJ as family.

And "Hockey" was one of my very first words I ever said!  How about that?!

So now that it's the middle of August, I'm getting kinda itchy for Hockey Season to start.  Lotsa things have changed in Buffalo.  New buncha coaches.  Some new players.  RJ's only gonna call three more seasons before he retires for real.  That means all of us, fans, listeners, the players... we've all gotta make the most of it, so RJ can go out with a bang.  I would love to see Rick Jeanneret get to have the Stanley Cup over for dinner! 

Heck, I'd love to get to invite Rick Jeanneret over for dinner, and we could eat ice cream from the Stanley Cup.  That'd just be GREAT!

My name is Zoe, and I'm a hockey fangirl!