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November 7, 2008

Jr High Cafeteria Says GObama

Finn bought a Barack Obama T shirt several weeks ago and has been wearing it to school.  That may not seem like a big deal to some of you, but here in Alabama, in the conservative Tiny Kingdom, he might as well have gone naked and painted  “I HATE FOOTBALL”on his butt and he’d have gotten the same reaction.  He reported engaging in several “lively discussions” which I was happy to hear about.  He was also on the receiving end of some insults, which were unfortunate but not unexpected.  He garnered a few high fives in the halls as well.

Overall, I was proud that he had the balls to stand up for what he believed in a very visible way, especially at such a tricky age.  He’ll be thirteen next month, and about fainted when I picked up cross-country carpool and got out of the car and walked across the parking lot to talk to a friend, thus exposing myself to his friends.  I was dressed and everything, and I think I’m a reasonably cute mom, but he acted as if a haggard witch had emerged from the minivan specifically to embarrass him.

The day after the election he wore his shirt in celebration, although he said he was careful to remain quiet and let his shirt do the talking.

“But when I got to the cafeteria, it was awesome,” he told me.  “Most of the lunchroom staff is African-American, and when they saw my shirt the man who helps replace the bins of food pointed and said ‘Cool shirt,’ so I said ‘Barack On.’  And the lunchroom lady said ‘Oh honey, how you doin’ today?’ and gave me like seven chicken fingers and usually they give you four.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“My friends were jealous, but I don’t think the cafeteria ladies were spreading the wealth around.  I think they were just celebrating.”

That’s a relief.

fin2
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Two years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: My Name Is Anne Glamore and I Am A Member Of Curmudgeons Anonymous

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 9:41 amSchool Today: Eraserboard Jungle,Tiny Kingdom Exclusive29 comments  

November 4, 2008

A Sexy Outfit For You!

At a recent football game, a neighboring high school performed a halftime dance routine at a football game that “stunned and appalled” one Tiny Kingdom woman.  She found the routine inappropriate for public viewing, as the girls wore mens’ button down shirts and ties and proceeded to “suggestively shake and shimmy.”  Later they tore off the shirts and revealed dance costumes underneath.

I have not seen the routine in question, but I’m an expert in both football dance routines and shimmying in a button down shirt, so I have a little something to say about this topic.

From 1982 through 1985 I was a member of the Dorians, the Tiny Kingdom’s dance team.  In keeping with our mostly Republican, all white demographic, we performed routines so conservative that we might as well have been the toy soldiers in The Nutcracker.  There was nary a wiggle or waggle to be found.  Then we’d march off the field and watch while the other teams shook their asses and laid it down.  I found it highly frustrating.

We scored a coup in the fall of 1985, when the band played “Thriller” and our choreography called for us to turn our backs to the stands and shake our fannies from side to side, using our hands to accentuate the motion.  For a few seconds during each show I felt like a Solid Gold dancer, but it was a small reward for two years of marching with the occasional kick-ball-change.  At least our high-kick line rocked.

Here’s a picture of me performing an exceptionally sexy move for us:
dorian1
and a picture of the kick-line in motion.  I should totally have been pointing my toe.
dorian2

But what does this have to do with the current situation?  Well, as it turns out, the other high school disagreed that their costume and routine was suggestive of a striptease.  Again, I didn’t witness it.

But about three years ago, when Bill and I decided to add some pizzazz to our sex life, I bought a book that was full of ideas besides hopping in the bed and going at it.  I wrote all about it here.  The book promised that if I walked around in one of Bill’s button downs and a pair of high heels, he’d appreciate the show.  The tip was so successful that I shared it with my Bible Study, all of whom have reported amazing results.  (One attendee recommends inviting your husband home for lunch, where he finds you vacuuming in this getup.  They never made it to the bedroom, and she suffered rug burns that she says were totally worth it.)

Unless you have actually worked as a French maid in the past and held on to your uniform, the button down shirt is the thriftiest provocative outfit you can wear if you’re getting ready to make googly eyes with your lover.  Sexier even than the Garden of Eden costume, because in my experience, a man likes to rip a little something off a woman and fling it on the ground.

So I’m thinking that the idea that the dancers’ costume had no sexual overtones was a bit naive.  My scientific experimentation has proven the outfit to be titillating and seductive, and that’s exactly what I intend each time I put it on.  If you were a Dorian and saved your seamed fishnet pantyhose, well, that just adds an extra layer of entertainment.

Of course, if you wear this outfit too often, you may end up with one of these:
dorian3

Let’s all take a vote. You can try out the shirt and hip shake to gauge its effect before voting if you need to.  In fact, I encourage you to do so.

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Three years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: All About You

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 6:49 pmBlast From the Past,Googly Eyes: Make Love Not War,School Today: Eraserboard Jungle21 comments  

October 30, 2008

Finn Fulfills The Contract & Plays Drums

Finn has succeeded in making decent grades, particularly in his Advanced Algebra class.  At the start of the school year we drew up a contract with him, setting forth our expectations for his grades.  The agreement stipulated that if his total GPA was above a certain number, he would be entitled to a cell phone.

This was his first year of junior high, and he had to learn to juggle numerous activities.  In addition to the core curriculum he had the advanced class and two electives, Band and Spanish.  He also ran cross-country every afternoon and of course kept up his once a week drum lessons.  I was looking through scrapbooks recently and realized he’s on his third set of drums and fifth year of lessons– he’s well on his way to being able to replace Charlie Watts when he gives out.

Here he is with his first set of drums:

scan0002

Here he is about a year or so ago doing a gut-busting drum solo:


Finn On Drums from anneglamore on Vimeo.

I was positive Finn would remain phoneless.  Algebra proved to be a challenge, and it revealed weaknesses in his study habits.  We enlisted the help of the MasterMinds tutoring service in a last ditch effort to shore up his grades, and I’ll admit that I was snobby about the idea of tutoring, having never been tutored myself.  When we got to the headquarters, however, we discovered that everyone who is anyone algebraically was being tutored, and the waiting room was a prime social hour.  Plus, Finn’s tutor was much better than I was at explaining the commutative property.

So he’s entitled to a phone, and this afternoon we’re heading to Verizon to get it.

While we’ve been adamantly opposed to any technology for the kids that would take their focus away from reading and playing snipers in the front yard, I’ll admit that it will make things much easier on me once Finn is able to reach me when a practice is over, or when he has caught a ride home.

Tomorrow, for example, is not only Halloween, but also Homecoming, and Finn plans to walk from school to the village with a friend to watch the parade, then join other friends for Halloween activities, and then head to the football game.  I’ll need him to check in with me and let me know where he is and who he’s with.  He’s experiencing a new level of freedom, and so am I.

I’m taking the opportunity to upgrade my phone as well.  I have the free phone that comes with a Verizon account.  I need a phone with a QWERTY keyboard.  I mainly use my phone to talk, but now I’ll be doing a small bit of texting and I’d love to be able to check all my emails and moderate blog comments from the phone as well.  It would also thrill me to be able to tweet from my phone.

I’m completely flummoxed when I stand before the array of phones at the Verizon store and I figured I’d turn to y’all instead.  Do I need a Blackberry, even though I’ve made fun of Bill’s addiction to his for years?  Would something else like the Dare or Voyager or ENV2 be better?  I’m committed to Verizon so don’t go suggesting that I get an iPhone, lovely as that sounds.

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 9:27 amInventions, Creations, Experiments,School Today: Eraserboard Jungle24 comments  

October 8, 2008

The Electric Slide & Tiny Prints

Prying information out of boys is like interrogating a particularly recalcitrant prisoner.  Often I get the best anecdotes purely by accident.  Bill has a passel of first cousins in Columbia, South Carolina, who are now getting married one by one.  We refer to them affectionately as “the dancing Glamores” because they showed up en masse at our wedding and proceeded to lead the entire reception in a risque version of the Electric Slide, and everyone is expected to participate in that activity at each subsequent nuptial.  The next one is in November, and the boys came home as I was scheduling it on the calendar.

“Are they listed as “the dancing Glamores” in the phone book?” Drew asked.

“No, we just call them that because of their dancing prowess, which is another name for talent,” I answered.  “They’re expert Electric Sliders.”

“I know the Electric Slide!” Porter said.  “We do that in gym.”

I don’t think I’ve written about the strange activities that pass for gym these days.  I’m befuddled by the fact that at other schools the kids are learning the rules of real games like tennis and lacrosse, while our children spend an inordinate amount of time on square pieces of wood with wheels, engaging in a game called “scooter hockey.”  Drew says that between the wheels, the flailing legs, the hockey sticks and the balls, it can get dangerous, so he usually scoots to the corner of the gym and spins in circles until he falls on the ground.

But although the boys cannot stand learning the Electric Slide, it clearly has real world application, so I told them to pay attention because they’d be needing those skills soon.

“But it’s such a joke, Mom.  The coach is like, kick your leg higher, Glamore,” Finn complained.

“You don’t even go to that school anymore,” Porter said.  “When I do the Electric Slide I wiggle my butt and the girls laugh.  But only when Coach isn’t watching.”

“Dude, wiggling your butt is a major part of the dance,” I said.  “Keep it up.”

Sounds like we have dancing Glamores of our own here in Alabama. They have until November to learn the steps and add their own style to the dance.

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People write me asking me to review all sorts of things and generally I refuse, because the requests are generic, or the products have nothing to do with me and my family.  We don’t do princesses or baby toys, and organic baby food isn’t big at our house.  If you’ve invented a non-odorous soccer cleat, or a food that results in a friendly, cooperative teen, however, I’m your target audience.

I did agree to review Tiny Prints cards because I am a paper product whore.  I’ll admit, when I first heard about Tiny Prints I pictured those wee frames with your baby’s footprint in it, and that is not at all what this company is about.  (To set the record straight, I don’t have any of those footprints, nor do I have any bronzed baby shoes.  I’m unsentimental like that.)

Tiny Prints makes full sized cards for all occasions, including invitations, holiday cards, birth announcements and so forth.

Here in the South people seem overly fond of flowery cards, in my opinion, but I have a definite bias against flowers in any form — fabric, wallpaper, upholstery, and so forth– except for real flowers themselves.  I especially liked the Tiny Prints funky holiday party cards, not because I ever throw a holiday party, but because the cards did not have a single poinsettia leaf on them, and that is a good thing.  You should check out the web site if you have an event in your future.

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While I don’t have bronzed booties of my boys,  I do have a hunk of sand with three indentations I made at the height of my craftiness, years ago.  It was the end of a long, hot summer, and The Voice of Reason and I brought back sand from our annual beach trip, which was no small feat considering all the toddler gear we had to lug back as well.  She’d read about an “easy” project where you mix sand with concrete or plaster of Paris, pour it in a mold, have your child put a hand print in, and then save it for posterity.

It seemed simple enough.

But if you are going to do this, I’d pick a day where it’s about 70 degrees, and limit yourself to one well-behaved 10-year-old.  Somewhere I have a picture of us, which either 5 or 6 kids (we’re not sure if her youngest was born yet) and pails of plaster, bowls of sand and kids running amok.  There’s another picture, too, where we’ve come to our senses and brought the highchairs outside and put Drew and Porter in them so that we have two fewer boys running around.  I won’t speak for the Voice, but my padded bra is slung on the van, because it was well over 100 degrees and we were both sweating like big dogs.

An outsider wouldn’t really be able to tell that the sand has three boys footprints in it, but by God, I’ve saved it, because it reminds me of a sweltering afternoon that was rescued only by juice boxes and a large gin and tonic.

The fact that I can’t find the picture pains me.

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Three years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Virtual Book Club #4

(with many book suggestions!)

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 9:32 amBlast From the Past,Book Reviews,Festivities & Celebrations,Music: Give Me A Beat!,School Today: Eraserboard Jungle7 comments  

October 3, 2008

Anne Glamore: Master Mathematician

This week we added the Maroon 5 and Counting Crows concert to our usual busy schedule of work, school and musical and athletic activities.  The concert didn’t start until 8 p.m., when the boys are usually winding down, so Tuesday afternoon I got them all jacked up on Coke and Mountain Dew so they’d be wide awake for the festivities.

Drew kept his eyes glued on the bass player.  Porter dragged Bill all over the amphitheater in order to view the show from every possible angle.  Maroon 5 flashed green lasers over the audience from time to time, which drove Porter wild with jealousy, as his latest heart’s desire is a laser pointer that he can use to burn holes in things that he refuses to identify with more specificity.

Finn stayed put, trying to achieve that “I know I appear to be with these parental units and little brothers but I don’t actually know them” look by remaining one foot in front of us at all times and refusing to look me or Bill in the eye when answering our questions.

During the break between bands, Drew, Finn and I went to check out the T-shirts (we decided to find them cheaper on eBay) and on the way back the boys waited while I stood in the line and finally used the bathroom.  I saw a girl in Finn’s class and introduced myself before ducking into a stall.  Upon hearing this, Finn came undone, and made it clear that my role was to ignore her, not to approach her, smile at her or engage her in conversation so help me God.

Finn and his friend must have talked about me at school the next day.  He reported that I “said some highly inappropriate things” while waiting in line for the bathroom.  Sure, I was reminiscing about the days before the amphitheater had seats everywhere, and had a large lawn in the back where you could toss a blanket and relax and listen to the music, but I wasn’t talking to a seventh grader about this. I was chatting up the other ladies in line.  About nineteen years ago Bill and I had gone with a group of people to a low key concert of the Jimmy Buffet or James Taylor ilk, and we spent the entire concert macking on a blanket under the stars with a live soundtrack below.  Occasionally we came up for a sip of beer and a bite of fried chicken but mainly it was lips and tongues and Sweet Baby James.

The other ladies in the bathroom line had similar tales to tell, although they may have been smooching to Randy Travis or Metallica, and I think Finn and his friend are just jealous that they are going to have to drape themselves over hard stadium seats to make out (when that time comes) instead of laying back on the grass, swatting mosquitoes, assuming they notice them, which they won’t.

This week has also been dominated by Algebra, which is Finn’s most challenging class this semester.  For a few weeks Bill was in charge of ensuring that Finn was employing appropriate study habits, while I checked up on the duo.  However, when Finn brought home a couple of bad grades and was nonchalant about them, Bill freaked out to the Nth degree and I decided that Bill was too personally invested in Finn’s success.  We switched kids and he’s now in charge of Drew and Porter’s fourth grade curriculum (and my God, Porter, George Washington Carver did a lot of great things with peanuts but he did NOT write To Kill A Mockingbird, that was Harper Lee, who hung out with Truman Capote, who was sort of a peanut, so I can see how you might get confused).

Finn has a big test today, and I am such a stellar mom that if he asks (and only if) I will write him out a practice test to help him get ready.  He has some big things riding on his grade this semester (like an apparatus that rings and dials numbers).

He had a packed afternoon yesterday.  He got home from cross country around 4:30 and I dropped him at the high school so he could play drums at the football game at 5:00, and he returned around 8:30.  By then I had thirty math questions written out, along with my answer key.  All my algebra from the 1980’s has come flooding back, so if you find yourself butting heads with an equation that contains a variable and it needs solving, or maybe graphing on a number line, or you need to apply the distributive property, reduce the numbers down to the least common denominator and solve for X, head back over here because I can help you.  My talent is wasted here, though, because algebra never comes up in the law, or at the grocery store, or while doing laundry.  I haven’t told Finn that.

alg

Hot tip for the day:  Any number to the 0 power is 1.  I have no idea why.

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Three years ago in My Tiny Kingdom:It’s Good News, So Why Am I Crying?

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 8:40 amBlast From the Past,Festivities & Celebrations,Glamorous Escapades,Music: Give Me A Beat!,School Today: Eraserboard Jungle15 comments  


Welcome to the Kingdom

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I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table. If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me. I'm happy to speak to your group or club.

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