Cerulean Pangolin

We had a fun night this past Thur.  Had a bunch of friends over for a cookout followed by a firefly hunt for the kids.  The kids all got along great, and had quite a blast chasing after fireflies in the glen behind our house.  Definitely we'll do this again next year!

Not content with a healing collarbone, the boy went and stepped on a nail.  No sign of infection luckily.  And I have to say it's wonderfully handy to have a father-in-law who's a doctor and can be reached for immediate consultation on such things.

Before the cookout, I spent a good two hours uprooting weeds from around the yard.  By no means did I get them all, but I made a serious dent, and the most egregious offenders (who were taller than me!) are history.  But now I'm paying for it, as I managed to get poison ivy on my left arm.  I didn't even see it, which has me concerned that I'll get more unknowingly when (if?) I get back to weeding.  It hasn't itched too badly, except for this morning at 5:30 when it woke me up and decided to be unbearable for a while.  I scratched around it (not ON it!) which gave temporary sympathetic relief, but then it would just burn worse than ever so perhaps that was less than brilliant.  Finally got up and put some Gold Bond on it, which helped only a little and then meant I had to hold my arm up off the bed since I didn't come close to rubbing it in well.  Just when I thought I'd have to give up on sleep I finally found a good way to prop it up and drowsed off.

My son has his first broken bone! While goofing around on the jungle gym with his sister (unsupervised, I should mention), he fell onto his left side and now has a greenstick fracture of his left clavicle.  It was clear it was a definite injury rather than normal bumping/bruising, but he was pretty brave about the whole thing.  No scream, not many tears, but continued moans and winces when it's jostled.  He was very good about the doctor examining it and about going into the x-ray room on his own.

He is a little woe-is-me about it hurting (and having to take motrin), but is also loving the extra attention it's bringing.  To me it feels like a major right-of-passage.  His father and his maternal grandpa both broke collarbones at age three, so he's behind the curve.

Is it wrong to be thinking it's good that it was him and not her?  She'd be a bundle of tears and wallowing in self-pity over the pain, and he'd be jealous of all the attention it brought her.  He definitely wishes it hadn't happened, and perhaps now will be less jealous in the future when M has minor injuries that get her short-term intesive attention.

We are home.  Fun was had.  Pictures were taken. 

Not much in the way of interesting details to share -- we went to the beach in the mornings, played around in the afternoon, and swam in the condo pool after dinner.  Kids made progress on their swimming prowess.

The toys from my childhood that my mom brought along were all hits:  Fashion Plates and the Mighty Men and Monster Maker (fashion plates for boys, essentially) are definite favorites, and worth tracking down vintage sets on eBay for those of you with kids.  The Fisher Price Wooden Circus was loved too, and I've now researched and learned it predates my birth by ten year, having been made in 1963.  Another classic worth tracking down on eBay.  Also some games:  Children's Hour, which was a box set of three different games (elephant board game with spinner, fishing game, and matching game), good for children as young as 3-4.  And the Sesame Street  Missing Match-Ups game, a memory-type game that is better for younger children as it avoids the fuss of laying out a bazillion cards in rows.  All seem findable on eBay except the Sesame Street game, which is the least unique of the lot.

Spirograph was enjoyed but was too hard for them to use on their own, so it didn't come home with us, but the rest did.  Yay!

We're on our way to FL for a week at the beach, with my parents.  K's software release was done on time so he is with us, yay!  Today's parental amusement was listening to both kids singing as they listened to their little mp3 players with headphones on. 

G's MRI was yesterday morning.  It went fine, though if I never have to watch one of my children be put to sleep again I'll happy.  They didn't warn me that he'd fight against the gas mask as it started working (and judging by the comments of mom friends last night, he fought more than most).  It is an intinctive reaction to freak out when someone is forcefully holding a gas mask over your child who's actively trying to get away from it.

I wanted to go for a good cry after that, but also knew that I needed to look perfectly happy and unworried for when he woke up at the end of it.  So instead I went to the cafeteria and ate two black bottom cupcakes.

The whole thing took longer than planned; first we were kept waiting as the anesthetist was running behind (at 8 am!), then they did do his MRI with contrast and had a wait for the right person to show up to do that.  By 10 he was back in his room and I got to sit and wait beside him.  It took a while for him to wake up, though I don't recall how long nor was it unusually long.  It's just long when you're waiting to make sure your  baby is okay (and that you were right not to attack the doctor who gassed him) while he's lying there so small and still.

I knew when he was starting to come around by the sudden increase in his pulse, at which point he got out of that perfectly posed position on his back and rolled up on his side.  He slowly woke up from there, opening eyes briefly, muttering random things which may or may not have been intelligble, and generally acting drunk.  He was very pleased with himself, declaring his bravery early on which I heartily agreed with and praised. 

After being dopey in bed for a while, then eating a snack, he suddenly was ready to go and sat up and got ready to hop down and go.  That was unexpected; it was clear his "go home it's over" switch had been thrown and he was ready, despite his still general wobblyness.  He refused a wheelchair, which I think just goes to show he was still dopey cause I can't believe he wouldn't normally find that fun, and instead wobbled down the hallway with me on one side and a nurse on the other, clutching at him as he lurched about while insisting he could walk just fine.  I carried him to the car and away we went.  For doughtnuts.

It started with letting the kids watch Portal and Lego Indy on xbox (Daddy or Uncle R play).  Then I drug out my ancient Nintendo to play Yoshi's Island for them.  This went on for a number of months with them simply happy to watch, until the fateful day my brother let G help play a bit on Indy.  It was all G could could talk about for days, while K and I debated the merits of letting him really play and settled on once a week for about an hour, per game machine. 

G is thrilled, and it's clear how much he enjoys playing and thinks about it all week while waiting for the right day to roll around again.  The kids have been speculating recently about what it would be like if Mommy had another baby, and G has decided it would be great because he'd get to play more (the logic being that I'd have less time with him and would let him play more to keep him distracted, I guess).  He's also declared that he would like to live with me still when he grows up so he can continue to play Yoshi.  And he's marvelled that "when you're dead, I can play all the time!"

Nice to know obsessed boy isn't going to miss me too much.

M on the other hand, is much less interested in watching or playing, but does have some interest.  But tonight I think we've found her favorite thing ever.  G and M got to create their own profiles on the xbox tonight, which involves not just picking out a name but also an avatar whom you can dress.  She is happily creating multiple outfits for her avatar with my brother's assistance.  I don't think she needs to actually play a game at all, a computer dress up doll is all she needs.

In a couple weeks we'll be in FL for a week at a condo with my parents.  My mom is bringing along my old Fashion Plates, which will blow M's little mind, I think.

Internet, you are failing me.

So we went to family swim tonight, as is usual on Fridays.  Usually I alwasy use the stairs to get in and out of the pool.  Today after taking the kids for a potty break, I thought I should stop being wimpy and just step down to the ledge and in (perhaps 1.5-2 ft drop each).  Big mistake.  I don't know exactly what the heck I did, but my right calf muscle ripped quite painfully.  It stayed in full agony, like a Charlie horse, for only a short while, then subsided into sorta-hurt threaten-to sieze up again feeling -- unless I do something silly like twist the leg while bearing weight, or otherwise flex the muscle in any sort of way.

Of course it would have to be my right leg, which made driving a little nerve wracking.  Good thing I didn't have to tromp on the brakes at all, and that the pool is just a mile from home.

Anyhow, I'm home and trying to google to find out what I should do for my poor leg to ease it, and as you might surmise by now from my first sentece, the internet is failing me.  Google "ripped muscle" and of course you get all sorts of sites on weight lifting.  Similar results when going to WebMD where you might think they'd treat ripped muscles as an injury rather than a thing to try to achieve. 

Fail internet.  I hate you.


ETA:  And now I know I should have started my search for "torn muscle", which leads to the correct terminology of muscle strain.  Leg is now elevated and on ice, and ibuprofen has been consumed.

G lost a lens a few days ago.  A screw fell out, and the lens followed, at an unknown time during the day.  Repeated searching through all the areas of the house he'd been did not turn it up, so a new one was ordered.  And of course, because it was lost rather than broken the warranty doesn't cover it, but luckily it cost less than I expected plus the optician gave me a 50% discount. 

We got bicycles for both kids a few weeks ago.  I knew teaching kids to ride without training wheels is hard, but I didn't realize how hard it is to learn with them as well.  Probably in part because they never spent that much time on trikes.  We've gone around our street a few times, with me running back and forth between them to help.  They need pushes to get started, and steadying hands when they hit a driveway (where the pavement dips at an angle and makes spills more likely).  I'm constantly telling G to look where he's going instead of at his feet.  M will freak out that she's going to crash into G, even though he's stopped 15+ feet ahead of her and she's travelling at perhaps one inch per second.

Today we went to a nearby park with a nearly level paved path that's not quite a mile long.  The did much better on it.  G is definitely getting the hang of it better, and is confident; he would get way ahead of M and me.  His biggest problem right now is that randomly and inexplicably his pedals will lock and to get them unlocked I have to flip the bike over and mess with it for a while; the chain doesn't seem to have a problem. 

M did much better, but she's afraid to go faster than a snail's pace, and doesn't want to listen to any advice I have.  She's sure it's better to steer into the grass when she wants to stop, rather than learning how to use the foot brake.  Her glowing, happy report to daddy when we got home was at odds with our mutual frustration with each other for much of the two laps we did.  It's so fun to have your child alternately scream at you to not touch the bike because she can do it herself and  then demand you hold on and help, between one breath and the next.  It was a reminder of why I would never ever consider homeschooling her, because she refuses to accept anything that resembles active teaching from me.  For me to teach her, it has to be subtle so that she doens't realize it's happening.

I know she did make progress though, and enjoyed it -- she's eager to go back to the park very soon and it was her favorite thing from the day in her nightly thank you prayer.

 

Only after a family dinner discussion has explained the word anthropomorphization can you command your child to "stop anthropomorphizing your fork and eat your dinner."

M was complaining of her new adult tooth hurting, which surprised and concerned me.  In a fit of inspiration yesterday I looked not at that tooth, but the one next to it.  Yep, she has her second loose tooth.  Now we go through 1-2 weeks of her accidentally biting hard with it and dissolving into tears, plus jealously from the boy.  Since neither one is happy about it, can we magically make him be the one with the loose tooth.

Preschool is all over.  I'm not the type to get all sentimental that my babies are growing up, instead I'm lamenting all the grocery shopping and other errands that they will have to join me for, for the summer.  But it is a good thing that they enjoyed school and did well and will be properly ready for Kindergarten in the fall.  And they're looking forward to doing lots and lots of worksheets this summer (no really they are, I'm not being my usual facetious self).

The kids caught 5 caterpillars on Tues, which are now in a one gallon ice cream container.  They're migrating across the sidewalks these days which makes them easy to spot and capture.  I've identified them as eastern tent caterpillars, and from that got appropriate leaves for them to feed on from cherry and pear trees.  Yesterday all were still alive and leaves showed signs of munchage.  This morning one looks to be dead, two more have spun cocoons.  The other two we could spot and didn't move things around to search for so as not to disturb the cocoons. 

I made the mistake of starting to read them a book I enjoyed as a teen without reading at least a bit of it myself to remind myself of the details.  The subject matter is generally quite appropriate -- it's hilarious non-fiction tales of siamese cats (Cats in the Belfry by Doreen Tovey).  But the writing is surprising advanced, which I hadn't remembered in the least.  The vocabulary level is quite high, and on average there's at least a couple words per paragraph that I have to explain.  Plus there's cultural references up the yin yang that are quite beyond their current level of knowledge of the world (Shakespeare, works of art, old movie stars).  Then there's the section I had to skim and skip when discussing cats coming into heat and being bred, as it was coming too close to illuminating for them the huge gap in their understanding of how babies come to be.  Oh, and the author in English so there's all the British/American English differences to contend with.  But they are quite enjoying listening to me read the story, so it's too late to say it's not a book for them.  So instead I'm editing as I read aloud as best I can, but still face interruptions with questions several times per paragraph.

Just killed a big creepy spider that had the audacity to crawl across my desk and right up my monitor.  It disappeared for a while after that, and I was too chicken to poke much to see if I could locate it. But I got a couple kleenex at the ready in case it showed up again, and eventually it did.  One failed attempt to killed followed by a successful squashing.  And now I have too much adrenaline coursing through my brains to bother getting myself back in bed where I belong.


So, on another note, my son looks like he entered witness protection, having recently lost his long shaggy hair to a nice short cut rather like his father's plus the addition of his new glasses.  Little boys with glasses are almost unbearably cute.  He's always been quite the charmer...if he knew (or when he discoveres) how much the glasses enhance his natural charisma, he'd never complain about wearing them (not that he's complaining now, though he's tired of being admonished to actually look through rather than over them).

My family just got home from a short trip (up to Rhode Island for my Grandma's memorial service). In amongst the big pile of mail I brought in was a business card from a tree service, and hand written on that was "Black locust on house!".

I was more curious than concerned, because while I had no idea what type of tree that was, the trees around our house which I knew to be within falling distance of it were known to me and not that kind. Plus there was no obvious tree sticking into my house, that I had seen.

Then I went upstairs to help the kids settle down for bedtime, and poked my head into our guest room for curiosity's sake. No tree through the house there. Then I turned on the light, and could see out the slider door onto the balcony, that indeed there were tree branches, pressed right up against the door.

Oh. That tree. The one right at the back corner of our property, which I've never known the identity of, and which I frequently have forgotten is ours as it truly is at the corner and feels as much like the neighbor's or part of the open glen behind the house.

Now after more proper investigation -- as proper as it gets in the dark when it's just starting to rain -- we have seen that indeed the tree is on the house, just at the corner and luckily the masonry on the side wall seems to have taken the brunt of the weight and so the house isn't caved in or anything. We think the roof is fine, because there should probably already be signs of water damage if it wasn't (assuming the tree came down in a storm).

All in all I guess we were lucky that it wasn't worse, especially since we weren't home when it happened. I guess I can thank grandma for watching over our house while we were away.

So I'm still up, watching tv.  Stupid commercial is on for a new vacuum cleaner with a UV-C light to kill all the germs on your floor.  Seriously people, isn't this never-ending quest to create a sterile enviroment just a bad bad idea?  Immune systems need exposure to everyday germs to build resistance, if instead you kill all this stuff then you'll have people with poor immune systems and the germs left will be the super ones that manage to survive all these sterilization attempts. 

I've got a big ol' plotbunny attack from this.  Picture a future where most of your life and everyone else's is spent taking steps to keep everything perfectly sterile.  You wear white sterilized clothes, gloves, masks; carry around a bevy of disinfecting wipes and sprays and a pocket irradiating lights.  Everyone knows that germs are deadly, had a childhood friend or two that didn't listen to their parents and skinned their knee and died of the ensuing infection.  Procreation is strictly an in vitro procedure, as couples wouldn't dream of having sex without full bodysuit protection -- the exchange of fluids could kill you.

I'm not sure of a plot to go with this setting, have to think more....

so I was sleeping peacefully, when the boy woke me up for a standard drink-and-potty trip (how glad I'll be when they decide they can do this without my zombie-sleepy presence someday).  And now I'm thinking about the damn mri I need to schedule for him and I can sleep. 

Someone that works for a local mri center found out a bit more info for me, plus I read the actual script the dr. wrote for it, and now I can't make a decision.  It seems the procedure might take more like 30 min instead of 15-20 that the ped thought.  Plus, the ped specified "contrast at the radiologists discretion" so he may very well have to have an IV which I know will not go over well with him, but then he might surprise me by being brave or by not being bothered after the initial insertion.  I can't be back in the control room to talk to him while it's done, but maybe (maybe!) I could be in the actual room with him -- except I know you can't be in there wearing metal and my wedding ring no longer comes off my fat finger so that means I can't be in there but shouldn't a mother be willing to have her ring cut off to hang out with her son if he's scared...  Arrrrgh!  I want to go back to sleep, I don't want to obsess over this!

We've determined that G takes after my father.  Firstly there's his love of math (while nowhere near advanced as his cousin T, it definitely seems past his peers).  Then there's his interest as a sports fan (which is far in advance of his grandpa's actually, but as his parents and three other grandparents have zero interest, that seems the only source).  And now we can add farsightedness to the list (while all the rest of us are nearsighted).

G had an opthamologist appointment today, mandated after vision screening at school discovered that his left eye turns inward.  This is apparently most likely due to poorer vision in that eye, and the eye straining to compensate, rather than a muscle issue.  And most likely the corrective measure will be glasses, possibly bifocals.  But just to freak me out they had to mention eye surgery.  It was in the context of "I really don't think that any eye surgery will prove necessary" but still it made me twitchy.

Also, in order to rule out any structural anomalies or neurological problems they want to do an MRI.  They don't expect to find anything, and I'm not freaked out about that being done.  We do have to figure out whether he can lie still for the time it'll take or if he'd need to be anesthetized.  After talking to him about it this morning, and taking a trial 5-min run of lying still under a small table, I think there's a very good chance he can lie still.

He is excited about the idea of getting glasses.  He's young enough to have no idea kids can get teased for them, and to just see how neat it'll be to have glasses like mommy and daddy and a classmate and a cousin all do.

M is going to get her own formal eye check in a couple weeks, when G goes back to be looked out without dilation drops.  We really don't think there's any issues, she passed the preschool vision screening with flying colors, but given the family history we expect her to get glasses eventually and this will provide the doctor with a baseline.


ETA: I forgot a mini-rant I wanted to include with this, about why some adults find it necessary to lie to kids when the truth can be explained easily in a non-scary manner.  Specifically, when they did the vision screening at preschool, they didn't  explain that they wanted to see how well the kids' eyes were working so that if they needed help to work better they could get that help.  Instead they couched the whole thing in terms of playing a game.  I just find that ridiculous, especially because when an issue is found, as happened with G, then I'm left to explain to him that it wasn't a game, it was a test.  *grumble grumble*

I'm a very unaccomplished cook who finds the necessity of making a meal every night tedious and annoying.  But I've been trying to up my cooking game over the past several months.   Sometimes I look up recipes, sometimes I just think of thinks to throw together.  I'm not producing fabulous results yet  but at least we're having fewer frozen foods and boxed mixes.

Anyhow, it's hard to keep track of my creations so as to be able to reproduce the more successful ones and make sure to avoid the flops, and I realized that LJ is the perfect place to keep track of things and also perhaps get a little advice from people with more culinary skills than I posess.

Tonight's dinner was a ham casserole intended to use up some of the leftovers from Easter dinner.  It was based off of a recipe I found on recipezaar (I'm starting to love that site), modified to my tastes and ingredients on hand.  I'll post the approximate recipe below (only approximate, as they only thing I love about cooking is the fact that you don't have to measure a lot of things precisely)

Makeshift Ham Casserole
2-3 cups cooked pasta (I used rotini)
1-2 cups diced ham
1-2 cups peas
1-2 cups onion, mushrooms, and a garlic clove sauteed in oil/butter
1/2 cup slivered almonds (to add cruch)
1 cup shredded cheese (used mozarella; pepper jack might be interesting to try)

Mix all that up and bake in a covered casserole dish for 20-30 min at 350.

It was alright, but definitely could have benefited from a light cream sauce, which I'd thought as I was making it.  The cheese helped hold it together a bit, and I wouldn't want to be drowning in sauce, but it definitely needed something more to hold it together.  It also was pretty bland, probably some pepper and/or paprika could liven it up a bit (but not too much or the kids would eat even less of it). 

What  I need help with is a sauce for it, as my skills/knowlege of creating sauces extend to opening cans of creamed soup.  I'm getting a bit tired of using that as a crutch for meals, not to mention it seems like it should be healthier to create a sauce from scratch.

So much to catch up on, since I don't post with anything resembling regularity.

The boy gave me a good scare last week, when he ran into a bar at eyeball height at the start of a bridge on a jungle gym, instead of ducking under it.  At first I didn't realize it was that serious, just thought he got a good bump and needed some sympathy.  I carried him back to a bench to sit and then see that there's bloody tears coming from the eye he's clutching tight.  I did freeze for a bit but at least didn't turn into a hysterical pile of goo (eyeball injuries freak me the heck out, whether real or movie/etc).  Finally got him to let go of it and open a bit and determined that the blood came from a quarter inch cut on his eyelid, just above the eyelash line, and his eyeball was unharmed.  It stopped bleeding pretty quickly and probably we didn't even need to go see the doctor but I was freaked out and wanted to be sure so I called once we got back to the car (we were out at the zoo, on a playground there) and they had an appointment for as soon as we could arrive. 

The phone call was a bit annoying -- I was saying I didn't know if we should come in to the ped's office or go to urgent care, and was asked if he needed stitches in which case go to urgent care as they don't do that at the ped's office.  I didn't think it would need stitches, but I didn't know for sure which is why I wanted to have a professional look at his eye.  I nearly yelled at the receptionist when she repeated the question of it needing stitches -- how the hell should I know, I've never been to med school or nursing school, and my childhood was uneventful such that I never had stitches nor did my brother, so I really have no experience to know the criteria.  Grrrr!

Hmm, I know I had something to report on the girl, but I'm drawing a blank right now.  I was also going to talk about cooking, but I'm going to put that in it's own post.
 

Were on day...5? of being sick.  M started on Tues, then G on Thur morning, then me last night.  It's not a bad sort of illness at least, just a high fever plus mild cold symptoms.  Certainly by comparison to my good friend who's daughter was just diagnosed with diabetes I have little to complain about.  But I am ready to have everyone healthy again.  Anyway, that's not actually what I planned to post about.

We did a question night tonight, because everyone was awake enough (M having napped earlier, and G having had more ibuprofen not so long ago so he was I-don't-fell-sick-right-now high).  Topics ranged from what can go wrong when a baby is born (so therefore one might choose to deliver in a hospital rather than at home) to how can someone at Sesame Place dress up as Big Bird, since he's so much taller than people are.  These are equally important subjects when you're five.

Anyhow, it was a rambly conversation and involved much cuteness.  G declared that he doesn't want to die before M (having remembered being told that men don't live as long on average), but then also that he doesn't want her to die first.  He wants to die at the same time, cause he loves her.  Awwwwww.

Also asked about marrying her again.  She's declared that she doesn't wish to marry him, and I talked about the fact that you're not allowed to marry someone so closely related to you.  They really wanted to know why, so I gave a quickie science lesson on DNA and inheritance and genetic diseases. 

G's definitely obsessed with the idea of getting married, or finding who he'll marry.  For a bit he decided upon a friend of ours (the one who now has diabetes).  I said that was fine if he loved her, and she loved him.  Clearly he felt some doubt about this, because a bit latter in the conversation he decided that he'd simply ask everyone in the world to marry him.  M, ever practical, pointed out that that'd take too long and he'd be dead before he could ask everyone.  Ah, sisters, gotta love 'em.

A bit later he decided perhaps he wouldn't marry at all, which I said was fine too, but pointed out that that makes it much harder to have children if he wants to.  That lead to a tangential conversation on adoption and artificial insemination (not in those words, especially as they don't have a clue about how regular insemination works yet either).

Discussion about babies being born led M to remember me mentioning that I never got kicked by the two of them, as they just kicked each other, which she thinks is hilarious.  That led to talking about how it's not so fun to be kicked in the bladder or a kidney, which led M to declare yet again that she doesn't ever want to have a baby.  It was also around this point that we talked about being born in a hospital, and how the cord had been wrapped around M's neck so that it was nice to have a doctor to help with that.

And somehow we segued from there into people wearing character costumes at Sesame Place, and how someone could be Big Bird (oh, I know, it's because we have a picture of Big Bird in their room, and G was asking if all their pictures are real or not).  Eventually they mostly ran out of questions and I was able to bid them good night.

Once or twice a month the kids manage to engage me in a long discussion at bedtime.  I know in large part it's a stalling tactic to delay going to sleep, but it's also about a topic that I feel it's good for them to become more educated about and I'm happy to take the time to answer their questions.  The last time this happened the topic was childbirth (when M freaked out about learning right now how to ask for an epidural). 

Tonight's topic was war.  We wound up on that topic after reading "The Buffalo Storm" which is about a girl travelling with her family on the Oregon Trail.  The background information I gave them about it and the dangers faced by the wagon trains led to a brief discourse on native americans followed by fear of war in our country, which lead into the general war discussion. 

I steered clear of any mention of current wars (as there are so many complicated nuances that far exceed their ability to understand) and instead talked about wars our country has been in historically.  We hit the Revolutionary War, Civil War, and both World Wars, with a brief description of what countries were in each and why they were fought.  I very much regretted K being away at band practice for the evening, as this whole discussion would have been right up his alley; he's much more of a history buff and much better at explaining things.  Though he'd also probably go off on more tangents on pet topics, so *shrug*. 

1. YOUR REAL NAME:
If you don't already know...

2. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother and fathers middle names)
Beth Daniel

3. NASCAR NAME: (first name of your mother's dad, father's dad)
Ralph Wilmond

4. STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name)
Milch  (ewww)

5. DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Green lemur

6. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, town where you were born)
Beth Carbondale

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd fav color, fav drink, add "THE" to the beginning)
The Grey Cocoa (ewww)

8.FLY NAME: (first 2 letters of 1st name, last 2 letters of your last name)
Cher

9. STREET NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, fav cookie)
Fudge Brownie Chocolate Chip

10. PORN NAME: (1st pet's name, street you grew up on)
Butterscotch Taylor

11. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first 3 letters of last name plus izzle)
Milizzle

13. YOUR IRAQI.. NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last name, first two letters of your middle name, last two letters of your first name then last three letters of your last name):
Hlbeyller

14. YOUR GOTH NAME: (black, and the name of one of your pets)
Black Cedric

15. STRIPPER NAME: (name of your fav perfume/cologne, fav candy)
Nada Butterfinger