I’ve been toying with writing this particular blog entry for a while. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to come clean. Wasn’t sure if you could handle the stark honesty. But I’ve been thinking about it… working on it, and I think I can say it now…
Hello, my name is Staci, and I am addicted to Diet Coke.
Whew… That was harder than I thought. What? What do you mean you already knew that?!
Oh, I guess you’ve noticed the cups. And the frequent trips for refills (not to mention the even more frequent trips to, um… someplace else.) So much for my big announcement… my ‘coming to terms’ with my problem.
Honestly, I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried to cut back. It’s so hard… I often get a headache if I don’t have the caffeine . I’m a junkie. I think about it when I’m not around it. I crave one when I don’t have it.
Cans are not my drug of choice, unfortunately. No way could it be that easy, and I would just have one in the fridge when I want one. I do not like it from a can… I do not like it, Sam I Am. (oops. Sorry!)
No…*I* have to have a fountain Diet Coke. Preferably from Jack in the Box (and no, I don’t eat the food there!)… preferably from the Jack in the Box on Great Oaks, but in a pinch, I’ll settle for one from somewhere else.
I should have suspected I had a problem when the employees there gave me a Christmas card one year. And then when I got a wedding invitation from one of the girls that manned the drive through window, it should have set off some sort of warning bells (I WISH I were joking…)
Some of my family and many of my friends know that the quickest way to my heart is to bring me a Diet Coke when I’m having a bad day… (you enablers!) Case in point: one dislocated toe… sitting in the Urgent Care Clinic…my angel, Sarah, arrives with a Diet Coke for me. And Phil knows that the following phrase will get him back in my good graces in pretty short order… “You want me to stop and get you a Diet Coke?” A few of my pals even asked me what I would do when we went to Disney… “How will you survive without your JIB Diet Coke?!!” (Note: you KNOW you all weren’t really concerned about me… you just like to make sport of my unfortunate addictive personality! ;)
Yes, I know its bad for me. I do. I know my system is probably chock full of preservatives and artificial sweeteners and other stuff. I just wish I could bring myself to care. ;)
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Pajama carpool
I would like to tell you that I get up before the kids every morning to get ready, get dressed, ‘fix’ my hair, and put on makeup. I would like to tell you that I’m ready to start the day with a smile on my face, a ‘go-get-em’ attitude, and a song in my heart. I would like to tell you to stop that damn laughing.
In truth, Phil has been taking the kids to school most mornings since the weather has gotten colder, and I hang out in my jammies until it’s time to take Libby to preschool at 9:30. But this morning, he left early for a meeting, and also because of all the ‘ice’ we got last night…. (Okay, now *I’m* cracking up! For my faraway friends, big hubbub on the news about a potential ice storm, school being cancelled, etc. This morning… yes, it’s cold…27 degrees…but no ‘delays’!) Anyway, I digress.
That left me to take the kids to school this morning, and it was too cold to walk (yes, we DO walk in the warmer months). The kids might be okay… they’re resilient… but I walk with them, and I simply refuse to be that cold. Why do you think I moved back home from Colorado?!! Remember me? The winter weenie?!
But because everyone else was driving their kids to school, as well, I *knew* the car rider line would be a nightmare. So I was rushing around, trying to get out the door early to beat the rush, trying to get everyone in the van, homework and lunches in backpacks… “Where is your coat?” “Where is your folder?” “Why are you wearing FLIP FLOPS?!!!”
So, what I’m saying, is that I didn’t have a chance to get all dolled up. Heck, I barely had a chance to put in my contact lenses (which are kind of a MUST when driving, especially if you saw my nightmarish prescription!), but when I did put in my contacts, I caught a glimpse of what I was wearing in my full length mirror in my bathroom. It wasn’t pretty.
I was wearing: hot pink pajama pants with snowmen all over them…a bright orange & brown Hairy Man Festival coordinator t-shirt from the festival a few years ago (I’d spilled milk on my matching hot pink snowman pajama top… I DID match when I went to bed last night!)… a pair of slip-on sneakers with no socks…one of Phil’s fleece jackets that I just grabbed (and if you haven’t met my husband, he’s an ‘XXL’ kind of guy… and I’m kind of a ‘medium’ size gal.) My hair was pulled back in a clippie… and I had on absolutely no make-up.
Once again, not pretty. Not even close. Actually, I was breathtaking… in that ‘Holy hell… you scared me!’ kind of way. So I dropped the kids off at school, and the whole time, I was quietly bargaining with God. You know…saying a few little prayers. That we would get to school safely. That we would get to school on time.
And most importantly that I wouldn’t run out of gas or have car trouble. I’m not sure how my pink pajama pants would have stood up to the weather… or the horrified stares of onlookers. ;)
In truth, Phil has been taking the kids to school most mornings since the weather has gotten colder, and I hang out in my jammies until it’s time to take Libby to preschool at 9:30. But this morning, he left early for a meeting, and also because of all the ‘ice’ we got last night…. (Okay, now *I’m* cracking up! For my faraway friends, big hubbub on the news about a potential ice storm, school being cancelled, etc. This morning… yes, it’s cold…27 degrees…but no ‘delays’!) Anyway, I digress.
That left me to take the kids to school this morning, and it was too cold to walk (yes, we DO walk in the warmer months). The kids might be okay… they’re resilient… but I walk with them, and I simply refuse to be that cold. Why do you think I moved back home from Colorado?!! Remember me? The winter weenie?!
But because everyone else was driving their kids to school, as well, I *knew* the car rider line would be a nightmare. So I was rushing around, trying to get out the door early to beat the rush, trying to get everyone in the van, homework and lunches in backpacks… “Where is your coat?” “Where is your folder?” “Why are you wearing FLIP FLOPS?!!!”
So, what I’m saying, is that I didn’t have a chance to get all dolled up. Heck, I barely had a chance to put in my contact lenses (which are kind of a MUST when driving, especially if you saw my nightmarish prescription!), but when I did put in my contacts, I caught a glimpse of what I was wearing in my full length mirror in my bathroom. It wasn’t pretty.
I was wearing: hot pink pajama pants with snowmen all over them…a bright orange & brown Hairy Man Festival coordinator t-shirt from the festival a few years ago (I’d spilled milk on my matching hot pink snowman pajama top… I DID match when I went to bed last night!)… a pair of slip-on sneakers with no socks…one of Phil’s fleece jackets that I just grabbed (and if you haven’t met my husband, he’s an ‘XXL’ kind of guy… and I’m kind of a ‘medium’ size gal.) My hair was pulled back in a clippie… and I had on absolutely no make-up.
Once again, not pretty. Not even close. Actually, I was breathtaking… in that ‘Holy hell… you scared me!’ kind of way. So I dropped the kids off at school, and the whole time, I was quietly bargaining with God. You know…saying a few little prayers. That we would get to school safely. That we would get to school on time.
And most importantly that I wouldn’t run out of gas or have car trouble. I’m not sure how my pink pajama pants would have stood up to the weather… or the horrified stares of onlookers. ;)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Remarkable...
Sometimes things happen in your life. Sometimes these things are remarkable. Sometimes they are so amazing that you want to tell everyone you know about them. This is one such time.
I got carded at the grocery store tonight while I was buying a bottle of wine for a meeting. (yes, wine at a meeting… don’t you want to join my women’s group?!) It’s true. It was something of a miracle. Just a little bit remarkable.
I actually DO occasionally still have to show my I.D. at restaurants, but I can always tell that it’s more of a courtesy… or a ‘card everyone that looks under 60’ policy. But tonight at H.E.B., the girl was clearly not sure how old I was. It helped that I had a baseball cap on, and I was looking down. I guess I looked suspicious… like I was trying to hide my face to conceal my age. When in actuality, it was more like… ‘dang, I look like crap… hope I don’t see anyone I know!’
But she said, “Um… could I please see your I.D.?”, searching my face. I couldn’t help it. I busted out laughing, and told her, “Wow! You are so sweet!” and fished around in my purse for my license.
Her response, “You must be a bit older than 21 then, with that answer!” Then she checked my license… peering near-sightedly through her super-thick glasses…
NO! I’m just kidding! She wasn’t wearing glasses…
She just had an eye patch over one eye. Okay, not really.
She actually was wearing a blindfold as part of the new sensory deprivation test that H.E.B. puts their employees through.
Whatever the case may be… I was floating on air when I left the store. ;)
I got carded at the grocery store tonight while I was buying a bottle of wine for a meeting. (yes, wine at a meeting… don’t you want to join my women’s group?!) It’s true. It was something of a miracle. Just a little bit remarkable.
I actually DO occasionally still have to show my I.D. at restaurants, but I can always tell that it’s more of a courtesy… or a ‘card everyone that looks under 60’ policy. But tonight at H.E.B., the girl was clearly not sure how old I was. It helped that I had a baseball cap on, and I was looking down. I guess I looked suspicious… like I was trying to hide my face to conceal my age. When in actuality, it was more like… ‘dang, I look like crap… hope I don’t see anyone I know!’
But she said, “Um… could I please see your I.D.?”, searching my face. I couldn’t help it. I busted out laughing, and told her, “Wow! You are so sweet!” and fished around in my purse for my license.
Her response, “You must be a bit older than 21 then, with that answer!” Then she checked my license… peering near-sightedly through her super-thick glasses…
NO! I’m just kidding! She wasn’t wearing glasses…
She just had an eye patch over one eye. Okay, not really.
She actually was wearing a blindfold as part of the new sensory deprivation test that H.E.B. puts their employees through.
Whatever the case may be… I was floating on air when I left the store. ;)
Monday, January 26, 2009
Project 365... Week 3
Another week down, another layout finished. This is quite possibly one of the easiest scrapbooks I've ever done.
The tricky part? Remembering to take a picture every day. Occasionally, I'll look at the clock, realize it's 11:30 p.m., and I haven't taken a picture yet. At that point, I panic a little... well, not really, but it definitely becomes more of a challenge to figure out what to photograph.
This week: (I know you can't read the journaling...)
Monday: Mommy & Libby snuggling on the couch, reading Llama, Llama, Mad at Mama. I TOLD you I was going to try to do a better job at being in the pictures!
Tuesday: Inauguration Day... this is the front page and the special insert in the Austin American Statesman. In the actual picture, you can read the date on the paper. Regardless of your political leanings, this was a historic day. (I WILL send you this pic, H!)
Wednesday: This is a little 'thank you' gift I made for a friend of mine. It's a spinning tool caddy embellished with decorative paper. It was pretty. I took a picture. End of story.
Thursday: Libby vacuuming the living room. You can't see it, but her plumber's crack is showing in one of the shots. ;)
Friday: Mommy & Davis on our way to the Mother/ Son Dance... we're decked out in the t-shirts of our favorite teams. (mine was Longhorns, of course! His was a Cubs t-shirt that Phil got him when he went to Chicago.)
Saturday: Josie and Carson at his 'rockin' birthday party. First off, Josie and Carson will probably end up married... secondly, a picture of a birthday party is a good representation of many of our Saturdays! (I SHOULD have taken a picture of the god awful looking, awesomely delicious tasting 'adult beverage' that cj made for the moms & dads. Very tasty, my friend... I need that recipe ;)
Sunday: Curled up in Mommy & Daddy's bed, listening to Mommy read the Tale of Despereaux. And eating lollipops, no less...what were we thinking?!
So... good week. Good pics. Good times.
The tricky part? Remembering to take a picture every day. Occasionally, I'll look at the clock, realize it's 11:30 p.m., and I haven't taken a picture yet. At that point, I panic a little... well, not really, but it definitely becomes more of a challenge to figure out what to photograph.
This week: (I know you can't read the journaling...)
Monday: Mommy & Libby snuggling on the couch, reading Llama, Llama, Mad at Mama. I TOLD you I was going to try to do a better job at being in the pictures!
Tuesday: Inauguration Day... this is the front page and the special insert in the Austin American Statesman. In the actual picture, you can read the date on the paper. Regardless of your political leanings, this was a historic day. (I WILL send you this pic, H!)
Wednesday: This is a little 'thank you' gift I made for a friend of mine. It's a spinning tool caddy embellished with decorative paper. It was pretty. I took a picture. End of story.
Thursday: Libby vacuuming the living room. You can't see it, but her plumber's crack is showing in one of the shots. ;)
Friday: Mommy & Davis on our way to the Mother/ Son Dance... we're decked out in the t-shirts of our favorite teams. (mine was Longhorns, of course! His was a Cubs t-shirt that Phil got him when he went to Chicago.)
Saturday: Josie and Carson at his 'rockin' birthday party. First off, Josie and Carson will probably end up married... secondly, a picture of a birthday party is a good representation of many of our Saturdays! (I SHOULD have taken a picture of the god awful looking, awesomely delicious tasting 'adult beverage' that cj made for the moms & dads. Very tasty, my friend... I need that recipe ;)
Sunday: Curled up in Mommy & Daddy's bed, listening to Mommy read the Tale of Despereaux. And eating lollipops, no less...what were we thinking?!
So... good week. Good pics. Good times.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sleeping in...
Could someone explain this to me? Is there some sort of strange gravitational pull on the Earth’s surface every weekend? Some kind of subtle shift in the cosmos that occurs every 6th and 7th day?
That is the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with. Why else would it be a struggle every damn day to get my kids out of bed at 6:45 to get them up and ready for school? But come Saturday morning, they are up, running around and squealing at 6:15? It makes absolutely no sense to me.
A typical school morning goes a little something like this (at 7:00 a.m.):
Me (standing next to their bed): C’mon, sweetie, it’s time to get up. Time to get ready for school!
Them: Mumble, mumble…
Me: Let’s go… we’re gonna be late. What do you want for breakfast?
Them: Grumble, grumble
Me (pulling back the covers): Hey! C’mon, move your keister! Hurry up, so Daddy can drive you to school! (otherwise, Mommy has to take you in her pajamas… ;)
Them: Grouch, mumble, grumble…
However, on a typical Saturday morning (at 6:00 a.m.):
Them (standing next to our bed): Pssst… Mommy?
Me: Mumble, mumble…
Them: What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry. What are we going to do today?! Can I play on the computer? Can we watch Phantom Menace this morning? Can I have a playdate today? Don’t forget it’s Jason’s birthday party this afternoon… did we already get his present? Can I help wrap it? I hope there are goody bags! Can I eat the Girl Scout Cookies that are in the pantry?
Me: Grumble, grumble…
Them (pulling back the covers): Hey Mom! Are you awake yet?!
Me (grabbing covers back and pulling them over my head): Grouch, mumble, grumble…
So, what’s the secret? What’s the trick to getting them to stay in bed just a little longer on Saturday mornings? Threats? Bribery?
This morning we resorted to a bag of mini chocolate frosted donuts. Phil bought the donuts on Saturday at the store, and we told them last night that they couldn’t come out of their room until 7:30 if they wanted donuts. Even if they woke up early, they just needed to read or play quietly in their own rooms until their clocks read 7:30. It seemed to work. They showed up next to our bed at 7:31, whispering, “Where are the donuts?”
But I can’t see doing this every weekend… for one thing, it’s not healthy, and seriously, the last thing my kids need is a major sugar buzz every Saturday morning. I’m going to have to come up with something else.
Money may have to exchange hands. ;)
That is the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with. Why else would it be a struggle every damn day to get my kids out of bed at 6:45 to get them up and ready for school? But come Saturday morning, they are up, running around and squealing at 6:15? It makes absolutely no sense to me.
A typical school morning goes a little something like this (at 7:00 a.m.):
Me (standing next to their bed): C’mon, sweetie, it’s time to get up. Time to get ready for school!
Them: Mumble, mumble…
Me: Let’s go… we’re gonna be late. What do you want for breakfast?
Them: Grumble, grumble
Me (pulling back the covers): Hey! C’mon, move your keister! Hurry up, so Daddy can drive you to school! (otherwise, Mommy has to take you in her pajamas… ;)
Them: Grouch, mumble, grumble…
However, on a typical Saturday morning (at 6:00 a.m.):
Them (standing next to our bed): Pssst… Mommy?
Me: Mumble, mumble…
Them: What’s for breakfast? I’m hungry. What are we going to do today?! Can I play on the computer? Can we watch Phantom Menace this morning? Can I have a playdate today? Don’t forget it’s Jason’s birthday party this afternoon… did we already get his present? Can I help wrap it? I hope there are goody bags! Can I eat the Girl Scout Cookies that are in the pantry?
Me: Grumble, grumble…
Them (pulling back the covers): Hey Mom! Are you awake yet?!
Me (grabbing covers back and pulling them over my head): Grouch, mumble, grumble…
So, what’s the secret? What’s the trick to getting them to stay in bed just a little longer on Saturday mornings? Threats? Bribery?
This morning we resorted to a bag of mini chocolate frosted donuts. Phil bought the donuts on Saturday at the store, and we told them last night that they couldn’t come out of their room until 7:30 if they wanted donuts. Even if they woke up early, they just needed to read or play quietly in their own rooms until their clocks read 7:30. It seemed to work. They showed up next to our bed at 7:31, whispering, “Where are the donuts?”
But I can’t see doing this every weekend… for one thing, it’s not healthy, and seriously, the last thing my kids need is a major sugar buzz every Saturday morning. I’m going to have to come up with something else.
Money may have to exchange hands. ;)
Friday, January 23, 2009
Hot date...
I had a hot date tonight with a guy that is not my husband.
I had an awesome time with him. We had dinner. We danced. I made him promise that we would do it all again very soon. And then I drove him home because he doesn’t have his license yet. Actually, it will be about another 10 years before he gets it. That’s right… my ‘date’ was with my 6 year old son.
Tonight was the Mother/ Son ‘sports themed’dance at the community center, and Davis and I had so much fun. It was completely his idea… he asked me last week if I wanted to go. I was very surprised, to say the least. I thought he’d have no interest at all, but when he spotted the sign at the community center, I heard about nothing else this last week.
Thinking that he’d change his mind when he heard about the dancing part of it, I said, “You want to dance with me? You want to be my date?” His response? “Mommy, I love you. I want to marry you!” Awwwww! My heart melted. But I told him in no uncertain terms that I was off the market. ;)
We went tonight with a group of my girlfriends and their sons, and we all had a blast, eating nachos, dancing and playing games. The community center had hired a DJ and he kept everyone on their feet, dancing to ‘Greased Lightning’, ‘Twist & Shout’, and, of course, ‘The Chicken Dance’. Davis and I even won 3rd prize in the ‘dance-off’… we so totally rock!
Before I put him to bed, he said, “Mommy, that was so much fun.” I had to agree, and it made me realize that I need to do a better job at carving out time for him…time for just the two of us. He’s an amazing kid, and he makes me laugh. In fact, of all my kids, he’s the one that most shares my sense of humor. Tonight was a night for the two of us to connect.
Of course, when I make him clean up his room tomorrow, he’ll probably want a divorce. ;)
I had an awesome time with him. We had dinner. We danced. I made him promise that we would do it all again very soon. And then I drove him home because he doesn’t have his license yet. Actually, it will be about another 10 years before he gets it. That’s right… my ‘date’ was with my 6 year old son.
Tonight was the Mother/ Son ‘sports themed’dance at the community center, and Davis and I had so much fun. It was completely his idea… he asked me last week if I wanted to go. I was very surprised, to say the least. I thought he’d have no interest at all, but when he spotted the sign at the community center, I heard about nothing else this last week.
Thinking that he’d change his mind when he heard about the dancing part of it, I said, “You want to dance with me? You want to be my date?” His response? “Mommy, I love you. I want to marry you!” Awwwww! My heart melted. But I told him in no uncertain terms that I was off the market. ;)
We went tonight with a group of my girlfriends and their sons, and we all had a blast, eating nachos, dancing and playing games. The community center had hired a DJ and he kept everyone on their feet, dancing to ‘Greased Lightning’, ‘Twist & Shout’, and, of course, ‘The Chicken Dance’. Davis and I even won 3rd prize in the ‘dance-off’… we so totally rock!
Before I put him to bed, he said, “Mommy, that was so much fun.” I had to agree, and it made me realize that I need to do a better job at carving out time for him…time for just the two of us. He’s an amazing kid, and he makes me laugh. In fact, of all my kids, he’s the one that most shares my sense of humor. Tonight was a night for the two of us to connect.
Of course, when I make him clean up his room tomorrow, he’ll probably want a divorce. ;)
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Voicemail blues...
I have a confession to make. Remember how I said that I'm not good at remembering to check the mail? Well, there's more. *sigh. I'm also not very good at remembering to check my voicemail. (yes, I know that many of you already know that! It's not news to you.)
In my defense, I almost always check the caller ID and try to return calls within a day or two (or three!), but oftentimes a couple of days can go by without me actually checking the messages. And usually when I call you back, I haven't yet listened to the message, if you actually did leave one. This afternoon, I thought I'd check them. The little automated voice told me... "You have twenty-six new messages." GULP... I didn't realize it had been THAT long. Twenty-six... that's my personal best (worst) record. Usually its more along the lines of eight or nine.
My wonderful friend, Jen, has finally just figured me out (about the voicemail, among other things!), and I thought I'd pass the wisdom on to everyone. If you can't reach me, and you need to talk to me (or just have a burning desire to hear my cute little voice), don't bother leaving a message. Just keep calling. Just keep calling. Just keep calling. And don't bother trying to leave me a voicemail on my cell phone either because I don't even KNOW how to check that.
Of, and of course, as I'm checking the messages and deleting them, I accidentally hit the 'off' button at around message #20. Anybody know what that means?! Yep...I need to listen to them all over again. And who knows when that will be?!
Anyway... what have we learned today? Voicemail= bad. Okay, well, not really... Staci + voicemail = bad. It's a personality flaw. I know that. I'll try to be better. And in the meantime, just keep calling. Or send me an email. Or shoot me a text on my phone.
And if all else fails, you can always send me a comment on my blog. ;)
In my defense, I almost always check the caller ID and try to return calls within a day or two (or three!), but oftentimes a couple of days can go by without me actually checking the messages. And usually when I call you back, I haven't yet listened to the message, if you actually did leave one. This afternoon, I thought I'd check them. The little automated voice told me... "You have twenty-six new messages." GULP... I didn't realize it had been THAT long. Twenty-six... that's my personal best (worst) record. Usually its more along the lines of eight or nine.
My wonderful friend, Jen, has finally just figured me out (about the voicemail, among other things!), and I thought I'd pass the wisdom on to everyone. If you can't reach me, and you need to talk to me (or just have a burning desire to hear my cute little voice), don't bother leaving a message. Just keep calling. Just keep calling. Just keep calling. And don't bother trying to leave me a voicemail on my cell phone either because I don't even KNOW how to check that.
Of, and of course, as I'm checking the messages and deleting them, I accidentally hit the 'off' button at around message #20. Anybody know what that means?! Yep...I need to listen to them all over again. And who knows when that will be?!
Anyway... what have we learned today? Voicemail= bad. Okay, well, not really... Staci + voicemail = bad. It's a personality flaw. I know that. I'll try to be better. And in the meantime, just keep calling. Or send me an email. Or shoot me a text on my phone.
And if all else fails, you can always send me a comment on my blog. ;)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Calvin and Hobbes
Remember the comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes? It was penned by Bill Watterson, and I loved reading it in the daily paper, the Sunday comics, and between Phil and I, we even had all the books. Actually, we still have most of them. The kids love to read them, and I thought it was so cute that they were enjoying one of the comic strips that I love. Awww… gave me the warm fuzzies. Until they started plotting against their babysitter, much as Calvin plots against his babysitter, Rosalyn. At that point, I put them up on a shelf in my closet. These kids don’t need any ideas.
One night, she (OUR babysitter…not Rosalyn) showed up at the door, only to find a note taped to the window next to the front door:
DERE SHANTEL, AR PARNTS DCIDED TO NOT GO OWT.
YUR SURVICES AR NOT NEDED.
I swear to God, this actually happened. Shantel, bless her heart, knocked on the door, anyway, and gave us a much needed night out. (She must know I can spell better than that!)
I can remember reading the comic strips and thinking that they were completely hysterical, and maybe just a little ridiculous. That is, until I became Calvin’s mother. Now, they’re more like a slice of my daily life. Davis even looks a little like Calvin, with his blonde spiky hair, and his unwillingness to do anything except make a ridiculous face for the camera. All he needs is a stuffed tiger instead of his stuffed giraffe to complete the picture.
The kids even went so far as to use a big cardboard box to make a Transmogrifier, which was alternately a Duplicator. That gave them a few hours of entertainment. And my apologies if you have ABSOLUTELY no idea what I’m talking about here. But those of you that know what I’m talking about… they did manage to not turn each other into worms, eels or baboons. Hah!
So, yes, I still love Calvin and Hobbes. And I have to chuckle when I see my kids, mostly my son, do something that’s especially ‘Calvin-ish’… makes me feel for Calvin’s mom. (That poor, tired, overworked woman.) The books are down off the shelf now, and the kids are back to reading them, looking at the drawings, and coming up with a little mischief, a la Calvin. And if that’s the worst thing they are reading, I guess I should consider myself lucky.
But I think I’ll keep the Far Side books up there just a little longer. ;)
One night, she (OUR babysitter…not Rosalyn) showed up at the door, only to find a note taped to the window next to the front door:
DERE SHANTEL, AR PARNTS DCIDED TO NOT GO OWT.
YUR SURVICES AR NOT NEDED.
I swear to God, this actually happened. Shantel, bless her heart, knocked on the door, anyway, and gave us a much needed night out. (She must know I can spell better than that!)
I can remember reading the comic strips and thinking that they were completely hysterical, and maybe just a little ridiculous. That is, until I became Calvin’s mother. Now, they’re more like a slice of my daily life. Davis even looks a little like Calvin, with his blonde spiky hair, and his unwillingness to do anything except make a ridiculous face for the camera. All he needs is a stuffed tiger instead of his stuffed giraffe to complete the picture.
The kids even went so far as to use a big cardboard box to make a Transmogrifier, which was alternately a Duplicator. That gave them a few hours of entertainment. And my apologies if you have ABSOLUTELY no idea what I’m talking about here. But those of you that know what I’m talking about… they did manage to not turn each other into worms, eels or baboons. Hah!
So, yes, I still love Calvin and Hobbes. And I have to chuckle when I see my kids, mostly my son, do something that’s especially ‘Calvin-ish’… makes me feel for Calvin’s mom. (That poor, tired, overworked woman.) The books are down off the shelf now, and the kids are back to reading them, looking at the drawings, and coming up with a little mischief, a la Calvin. And if that’s the worst thing they are reading, I guess I should consider myself lucky.
But I think I’ll keep the Far Side books up there just a little longer. ;)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
21 days to make a habit...
"According to scientific researchers, after performing a challenge every day for 21 days it becomes a part of a person's life. It makes it easier to set aside time and a person accrues motivation to want to perform the task without the feeling of forcing oneself."
This is part of a Wiki entry that I found very interesting. I’d always heard that you could build a habit over the course of days, and now I’ve found that to be true. Making time every day for writing, whether it is my regular blog, my creative writing prompts, or my novel, has become a priority for me. It’s a habit for me now. Sitting down every day and writing (usually on the computer…occasionally in long hand) is a creative exercise that I have the motivation to want to perform without feeling that I’m forcing myself. I have become the very definition- wow! Sometimes my stories and blogs are concise, detailed, interesting…other times, not so much.
Gosh, if only other things in my life were so easy to become habit-forming… you know, drinking lots of water, checking the mail, vacuuming on a regular basis, not being so sarcastic. ;) But I guess I’ve never committed 21 days to one of THESE habits.
There are many areas in people’s lives that could benefit from this 21 day philosophy. The whole ‘3 weeks is all it takes!’ mindset. Gyms should use it a ‘tagline’ to sell memberships. Heck, maybe they already do, and I just haven’t been paying attention.
And even though it wasn’t a 21 day challenge, I can’t help but be reminded of that church (I think it was in Dallas?) that challenged the married couples in the congregation to have sex every day for seven days. Seriously, people, it was on CNN a couple of months ago. (Actually CNN called it a ‘mega-church’…hmmm.) Can’t you just picture how that meeting of the church elders went?
Larry: Well, you know that statistic about 21 days, right?!
Will: C’mon, now, Larry, you know Mildred will never go for that!
Bob (hopefully): What about 14?
Jimmy: I think 7 is our best bet. And THAT may be pushing it.
21 days… 3 weeks… 3/4th of a month. I’m a believer.
And today is the perfect time to start a new habit. Maybe I should work on that whole sarcasm thing. Damn, I guess today’s out. Day #1 will have to start tomorrow. ;)
This is part of a Wiki entry that I found very interesting. I’d always heard that you could build a habit over the course of days, and now I’ve found that to be true. Making time every day for writing, whether it is my regular blog, my creative writing prompts, or my novel, has become a priority for me. It’s a habit for me now. Sitting down every day and writing (usually on the computer…occasionally in long hand) is a creative exercise that I have the motivation to want to perform without feeling that I’m forcing myself. I have become the very definition- wow! Sometimes my stories and blogs are concise, detailed, interesting…other times, not so much.
Gosh, if only other things in my life were so easy to become habit-forming… you know, drinking lots of water, checking the mail, vacuuming on a regular basis, not being so sarcastic. ;) But I guess I’ve never committed 21 days to one of THESE habits.
There are many areas in people’s lives that could benefit from this 21 day philosophy. The whole ‘3 weeks is all it takes!’ mindset. Gyms should use it a ‘tagline’ to sell memberships. Heck, maybe they already do, and I just haven’t been paying attention.
And even though it wasn’t a 21 day challenge, I can’t help but be reminded of that church (I think it was in Dallas?) that challenged the married couples in the congregation to have sex every day for seven days. Seriously, people, it was on CNN a couple of months ago. (Actually CNN called it a ‘mega-church’…hmmm.) Can’t you just picture how that meeting of the church elders went?
Larry: Well, you know that statistic about 21 days, right?!
Will: C’mon, now, Larry, you know Mildred will never go for that!
Bob (hopefully): What about 14?
Jimmy: I think 7 is our best bet. And THAT may be pushing it.
21 days… 3 weeks… 3/4th of a month. I’m a believer.
And today is the perfect time to start a new habit. Maybe I should work on that whole sarcasm thing. Damn, I guess today’s out. Day #1 will have to start tomorrow. ;)
Monday, January 19, 2009
Project 365 Week 2...
Here is my layout for the second week of my Project 365... I'm loving this album... loving this set-up...loving this idea.
Let's see... I know you can't read the journaling, but the pictures are as follows:
Monday: Josie getting measured for her baton for Twirling Team
Tuesday: the pizza and wine Phil picked up on his way home for dinner because it was such a crappy day (pizza for the kids, wine for me! p.s. If you haven't had Papa Murphy's, it's VERY good. Much better than Buddy and Al's!)
Wednesday: Josie's Brownie Troop had flag duty before and after school (this is a 4x6 collage of 4 different pictures)
Thursday: Libby had Pajama Day at preschool
Friday: One of my favorite sights at the end of the day... Phil walking in the door after work!
Saturday: The kids reading and putting together puzzles (Phil took this pic because I was in Temple at my mom's... good job, honey!)
Sunday: A picture of the kids playing outside because the weather was BEAUTIFUL! In fact, no one was allowed to come inside ;) They even ate lunch out there on their little picnic table.
Next week, I am going to make an effort to be in one of the pictures, too. I know all you scrapbook goddesses know how hard it is to hand off the camera to someone else. I'm even considering making this my picture of the day today... to document how I am taking pictures and blogging about the completed layouts. A picture of a picture of a ... Never mind. Now I'm confused. ;)
Let's see... I know you can't read the journaling, but the pictures are as follows:
Monday: Josie getting measured for her baton for Twirling Team
Tuesday: the pizza and wine Phil picked up on his way home for dinner because it was such a crappy day (pizza for the kids, wine for me! p.s. If you haven't had Papa Murphy's, it's VERY good. Much better than Buddy and Al's!)
Wednesday: Josie's Brownie Troop had flag duty before and after school (this is a 4x6 collage of 4 different pictures)
Thursday: Libby had Pajama Day at preschool
Friday: One of my favorite sights at the end of the day... Phil walking in the door after work!
Saturday: The kids reading and putting together puzzles (Phil took this pic because I was in Temple at my mom's... good job, honey!)
Sunday: A picture of the kids playing outside because the weather was BEAUTIFUL! In fact, no one was allowed to come inside ;) They even ate lunch out there on their little picnic table.
Next week, I am going to make an effort to be in one of the pictures, too. I know all you scrapbook goddesses know how hard it is to hand off the camera to someone else. I'm even considering making this my picture of the day today... to document how I am taking pictures and blogging about the completed layouts. A picture of a picture of a ... Never mind. Now I'm confused. ;)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Rockin' out...
I had the chance to be in the car by myself this weekend. This just doesn’t happen very often. I love being in the car by myself. I really do. Not just because I don’t have to listen to anyone arguing. Not just because it means the car stays clean for just a *little* longer. Not just because I can think without hearing someone say, ‘Mom? Mom? Mom?’ over and over again. ;)
The main reason that I love being in the car by myself is because I like to listen to loud music. I’m talking ear-splitting decibels. I’m talking head-throbbing, crazy loud music. Not many people know this about me because it’s only when I’m in the car completely alone that I crank it up and sing along at the top of my lungs. I’m sure I make quite the picture on IH-35.
So in the car this weekend, I had the music cranked up, and I was thinking about how different music marks different ‘eras’ in my life. There are just certain songs that instantly transport me to another place and time in my life. I can’t hear an Alanis Morrisette or NIN song without thinking about my mid twenties, after I had graduated from college. I had my own apartment, without a roommate for the first time in my life, and had started teaching middle school. I can remember cranking the music in my car on the drive home from this exhausting, stressful job that I loved wholeheartedly.
It is amazing to me how music has the power to elicit images and even feelings from years and experiences past. Some of the other songs that instantly give me a mental image:
Chicago’s “Hard Habit to Break”… junior high dances. Actually just about anything by Chicago or Journey takes me back to junior high and the dances in the school cafeteria. The crushes, the heartbreak, the dirty socks… ahhh… the memories! Didn’t you know that ‘you’re the meaning in my life? You’re the inspiration.”
The Eagles… “Hotel California”. I can remember being in the big, creaky bus we had chartered for our high school senior trip to Florida. We played this song over… and over… and over… Almost twenty years later, it still conjures up images, not of sunny California, but of the vast curtain of pine trees on either side of Interstate 10.
Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places”… freshman year in college, dancing at Dessau Hall. Everything about the fun and excitement of my first year in college is resurrected when I hear this song. I know it word for word, and have sung it a hundred times in bars and at parties. (along with ‘You never even called me by my name’ by David Allen Coe and ‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond… 'so good! so good!')
Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’… Phil and I danced to this song on our first ‘official’ date. I can still picture the Christmas trees with the (pilfered) white lights, and the white balloons floating across the floor. We danced together, not realizing then that we’d dance to that song at our wedding, years later. (yes, I know… kind of an unorthodox song! It wasn’t our first dance at our wedding, if that makes any difference.)
‘These are Days’ by 10,000 Maniacs… this song instantly makes me think about all the planning Phil and I did in the months leading up to our wedding. I never get tired of hearing that song. :)
It makes me wonder what songs will be the ones I remember from this period in my life, when I look back on it. Will any songs have the power to bring me back to this particular time? In the future when I hear, Matt Nathanson’s ‘Come On Get Higher’ or Jack Johson’s ‘If I Had Eyes’, will I remember the crazy November I spent writing a novel, listening to them on ‘repeat’?
Which songs will I be able to trace back to the life I’m living right now? Makes me curious. Makes me grateful for technology like my iPod, where I can access any of these songs at any point. Makes me glad that I occasionally get to be in the car by myself to listen to the soundtrack of my life. With the volume on high.
The main reason that I love being in the car by myself is because I like to listen to loud music. I’m talking ear-splitting decibels. I’m talking head-throbbing, crazy loud music. Not many people know this about me because it’s only when I’m in the car completely alone that I crank it up and sing along at the top of my lungs. I’m sure I make quite the picture on IH-35.
So in the car this weekend, I had the music cranked up, and I was thinking about how different music marks different ‘eras’ in my life. There are just certain songs that instantly transport me to another place and time in my life. I can’t hear an Alanis Morrisette or NIN song without thinking about my mid twenties, after I had graduated from college. I had my own apartment, without a roommate for the first time in my life, and had started teaching middle school. I can remember cranking the music in my car on the drive home from this exhausting, stressful job that I loved wholeheartedly.
It is amazing to me how music has the power to elicit images and even feelings from years and experiences past. Some of the other songs that instantly give me a mental image:
Chicago’s “Hard Habit to Break”… junior high dances. Actually just about anything by Chicago or Journey takes me back to junior high and the dances in the school cafeteria. The crushes, the heartbreak, the dirty socks… ahhh… the memories! Didn’t you know that ‘you’re the meaning in my life? You’re the inspiration.”
The Eagles… “Hotel California”. I can remember being in the big, creaky bus we had chartered for our high school senior trip to Florida. We played this song over… and over… and over… Almost twenty years later, it still conjures up images, not of sunny California, but of the vast curtain of pine trees on either side of Interstate 10.
Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places”… freshman year in college, dancing at Dessau Hall. Everything about the fun and excitement of my first year in college is resurrected when I hear this song. I know it word for word, and have sung it a hundred times in bars and at parties. (along with ‘You never even called me by my name’ by David Allen Coe and ‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond… 'so good! so good!')
Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’… Phil and I danced to this song on our first ‘official’ date. I can still picture the Christmas trees with the (pilfered) white lights, and the white balloons floating across the floor. We danced together, not realizing then that we’d dance to that song at our wedding, years later. (yes, I know… kind of an unorthodox song! It wasn’t our first dance at our wedding, if that makes any difference.)
‘These are Days’ by 10,000 Maniacs… this song instantly makes me think about all the planning Phil and I did in the months leading up to our wedding. I never get tired of hearing that song. :)
It makes me wonder what songs will be the ones I remember from this period in my life, when I look back on it. Will any songs have the power to bring me back to this particular time? In the future when I hear, Matt Nathanson’s ‘Come On Get Higher’ or Jack Johson’s ‘If I Had Eyes’, will I remember the crazy November I spent writing a novel, listening to them on ‘repeat’?
Which songs will I be able to trace back to the life I’m living right now? Makes me curious. Makes me grateful for technology like my iPod, where I can access any of these songs at any point. Makes me glad that I occasionally get to be in the car by myself to listen to the soundtrack of my life. With the volume on high.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Game on!
Okay, let me preface this by saying... My husband is an amazing guy. He is a great dad, he's fun at parties, and he knows without me having to say it when I've had just about enough time with our three beautiful progeny, and then he always has a plan for something fun to do with them to give Mommy a break. He does laundry, grocery shops with all three kids in tow, and is the official 'pool float' for the kids in the summertime. He makes me laugh on a daily basis, and after 18 years together, we definitely speak each other's language (usually ;).
But then, there are days like today, where I could just strangle him.
Why?! Why? Why, Philip Linson (using my stern voice), did you have to teach our children how to play the 'Punch Buggy' game? Do they REALLY need another reason to hit one another? Especially in the van? Even in fun? Because we ALL know how that's going to end. Not well. They just really don't need any more ammo in their sibling warfare.
And can I just mention that he did it RIGHT before we were getting back in the van after having a nice lunch together (the kids are out of school today.) I took Libby to the bathroom after lunch, and he took the older two back out to the van to get them loaded up.
When I came out, Davis socked his unsuspecting mom in the arm, and said, "Green punch buggy!" Which of course cracked them all up. I just glared at my darling husband, who by the way, gets to get back in his OWN car, and go back to his job for the rest of the afternoon.
Way to go, honey. ;)
But then, there are days like today, where I could just strangle him.
Why?! Why? Why, Philip Linson (using my stern voice), did you have to teach our children how to play the 'Punch Buggy' game? Do they REALLY need another reason to hit one another? Especially in the van? Even in fun? Because we ALL know how that's going to end. Not well. They just really don't need any more ammo in their sibling warfare.
And can I just mention that he did it RIGHT before we were getting back in the van after having a nice lunch together (the kids are out of school today.) I took Libby to the bathroom after lunch, and he took the older two back out to the van to get them loaded up.
When I came out, Davis socked his unsuspecting mom in the arm, and said, "Green punch buggy!" Which of course cracked them all up. I just glared at my darling husband, who by the way, gets to get back in his OWN car, and go back to his job for the rest of the afternoon.
Way to go, honey. ;)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
This thing should come with a warning.
I’m sorry. I should have warned you. Yes, about that monkey picture. Isn’t it just the teensiest bit frightening? Maybe even a little horrifying?!
I had to take a picture since my scanner is still not working. And I HAD to take a picture. I’m not sure you would have believed me if I had just told you about this doll. (which by the way, is ‘not a toy. It is a fine collectible to be enjoyed by adult collectors.’)
The flyer came in the mail, mixed in with a bunch of other junk mail. It was in my front seat, and when I turned a corner, it slipped out from the rest of the mail, startling me with its scary little monkey face to the point that I just about had an accident. No WONDER I hate checking the mail so much!
Is that not just the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen? I wouldn’t even want to meet the kind of person that would order ‘Baby Jingles’. (‘Baby Scare the Ever-lovin’ Crap Outta Ya’ is more like it.) Check out that tongue. Who thinks these things up?!
Not only can you order this (from the Ashton-Drake Galleries… ooh, la, la!)… guess what? She’s got a bunch of little ugly monkey friends you can order, too! For only $29.99* each! (*payable in two payments of just $14.99)
And of course each little monkey has their own pair of shoes with tiny bells on them (why, you may be asking? Um… so you can hear them sneaking up on you in the middle of the night?!) and their own special little T-shirt with a delightful saying, like “Mommy’s Little Monkey” (see exhibit A)… of course we can’t forget “Daddy’s Little Monkey” (because Daddy deserves to be freaked out, as well!)… “Go Bananas!” (self-explanatory, I guess.)
…and my personal favorite: “No more jumping on the bed!” Awwww! C’mon, you know the ditty! Sing along…‘Momma called the doctor and the doctor said…’
“Refill Momma’s prescription! She’s got the credit card out to order from the Ashton-Drake Galleries again!”
I had to take a picture since my scanner is still not working. And I HAD to take a picture. I’m not sure you would have believed me if I had just told you about this doll. (which by the way, is ‘not a toy. It is a fine collectible to be enjoyed by adult collectors.’)
The flyer came in the mail, mixed in with a bunch of other junk mail. It was in my front seat, and when I turned a corner, it slipped out from the rest of the mail, startling me with its scary little monkey face to the point that I just about had an accident. No WONDER I hate checking the mail so much!
Is that not just the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen? I wouldn’t even want to meet the kind of person that would order ‘Baby Jingles’. (‘Baby Scare the Ever-lovin’ Crap Outta Ya’ is more like it.) Check out that tongue. Who thinks these things up?!
Not only can you order this (from the Ashton-Drake Galleries… ooh, la, la!)… guess what? She’s got a bunch of little ugly monkey friends you can order, too! For only $29.99* each! (*payable in two payments of just $14.99)
And of course each little monkey has their own pair of shoes with tiny bells on them (why, you may be asking? Um… so you can hear them sneaking up on you in the middle of the night?!) and their own special little T-shirt with a delightful saying, like “Mommy’s Little Monkey” (see exhibit A)… of course we can’t forget “Daddy’s Little Monkey” (because Daddy deserves to be freaked out, as well!)… “Go Bananas!” (self-explanatory, I guess.)
…and my personal favorite: “No more jumping on the bed!” Awwww! C’mon, you know the ditty! Sing along…‘Momma called the doctor and the doctor said…’
“Refill Momma’s prescription! She’s got the credit card out to order from the Ashton-Drake Galleries again!”
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Can you feel my pain?!
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
Does my toe still hurt? Well, just a little, but that’s not what’s paining me at this point. What’s killin’ me right now? I just got back from taking Josie to the eye doctor… and OUCH!! Damn, I KNEW I should have force-fed that kid her little neon orange jars of carrots when she was a baby!
Not only did her prescription change enough to warrant new lenses, but she has just about outgrown her frames, too. And it’s only been a year. Time to whip out the checkbook.
A few years ago, a friend of mine who’d just had her second baby in as many years, told me, “You know, I’ve always heard that babies are sooo expensive. I’m just not really finding that to be true!”
I had to chuckle. I’m pretty sure that no one said BABIES are expensive. But KIDS sure are. You can cut costs with babies. Breastfeed. Make your own baby food (I highly recommend lots of mashed carrots). Borrow baby equipment. Use cloth diapers (if you’re crazy!)
Not so easy once kids get older. So far this week, we’ve bought new glasses… bought tickets to the Cub Scout Blue and Gold banquet… paid for the Twirling Team… paid for this month’s piano lessons…and ordered books from the Scholastic book order.
And it’s only Tuesday. Ouch.
Update... now my van won't start. Frickin' great.
Newest update... van finally started. Thanks, Sarah, for always being there for me in a crisis! You rock, my friend.
Does my toe still hurt? Well, just a little, but that’s not what’s paining me at this point. What’s killin’ me right now? I just got back from taking Josie to the eye doctor… and OUCH!! Damn, I KNEW I should have force-fed that kid her little neon orange jars of carrots when she was a baby!
Not only did her prescription change enough to warrant new lenses, but she has just about outgrown her frames, too. And it’s only been a year. Time to whip out the checkbook.
A few years ago, a friend of mine who’d just had her second baby in as many years, told me, “You know, I’ve always heard that babies are sooo expensive. I’m just not really finding that to be true!”
I had to chuckle. I’m pretty sure that no one said BABIES are expensive. But KIDS sure are. You can cut costs with babies. Breastfeed. Make your own baby food (I highly recommend lots of mashed carrots). Borrow baby equipment. Use cloth diapers (if you’re crazy!)
Not so easy once kids get older. So far this week, we’ve bought new glasses… bought tickets to the Cub Scout Blue and Gold banquet… paid for the Twirling Team… paid for this month’s piano lessons…and ordered books from the Scholastic book order.
And it’s only Tuesday. Ouch.
Update... now my van won't start. Frickin' great.
Newest update... van finally started. Thanks, Sarah, for always being there for me in a crisis! You rock, my friend.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Project 365... Week One
Well, here it is, friends... Week one on Project 365. Not sure if you can read the journaling in the pictures, but hopefully it gives you an idea of what I'll be putting together for the next 51 weeks. ;)
There is also a small picture on the right of the 'short week', which still needs to be labeled with the dates.
As you can see, it's pretty simple, but if I'm going to keep up with it, it can't be terribly complicated or difficult to do. For each week, I'll simply have to make the 'Week of' card, and print out the journaling cards. Since its a Word document, I can change the font, size, location, etc. on the days of the week. If you would like the document, (I know several of you had asked me for it... sorry I've dropped the ball!!), send me an email, and I'll send it as an attachment. I also just purchased a date stamp at Office Depot (you know, like the old-fashioned 'library' one...), and I'm just stamping the date on each journaling card.
I'm excited about how it's turning out... and I think it is a good representation of our life right now. And it takes some of the pressure off. Seriously... now if I don't get around to scrapbooking Davis' Gecko Pride day, for example, at least I have it documented in the Project 365 album.
It's all good...
There is also a small picture on the right of the 'short week', which still needs to be labeled with the dates.
As you can see, it's pretty simple, but if I'm going to keep up with it, it can't be terribly complicated or difficult to do. For each week, I'll simply have to make the 'Week of' card, and print out the journaling cards. Since its a Word document, I can change the font, size, location, etc. on the days of the week. If you would like the document, (I know several of you had asked me for it... sorry I've dropped the ball!!), send me an email, and I'll send it as an attachment. I also just purchased a date stamp at Office Depot (you know, like the old-fashioned 'library' one...), and I'm just stamping the date on each journaling card.
I'm excited about how it's turning out... and I think it is a good representation of our life right now. And it takes some of the pressure off. Seriously... now if I don't get around to scrapbooking Davis' Gecko Pride day, for example, at least I have it documented in the Project 365 album.
It's all good...
Saturday, January 10, 2009
High School 'Musing'-cal
This afternoon we took the kids to see High School Musical 3. Yes, I know it has been out for a couple of months, but between the busy-ness of the holidays and the cost of movies these days, we waited until it was at the dollar movie before we went. It’s just too expensive for a family of five to go to the movies anymore. I’m sure there’s some sort of mathematical formula…factor in the popcorn and sodas, and multiply that times the number of trips to the bathroom, and it works out to about a dollar a minute for each minute that I actually get to watch! So, we’ll just wait until it’s at the discount cinema. ;)
High School Musical 3… can’t say I loved it with a capital ‘L’… it was certainly no High School Musical 2! The series is pure cheese, as you know if you’ve seen any of them, but there’s just something that is so addictive about those darn songs. Even Libby stomps around the house, belting out about how she wants all things… “Fab-a-lous”.
HSM 3 was okay (the kids really liked it), but I felt like the previous ones were more fun…more ‘Disney’… a little lighter and fluffier. The third one was kind of heavy-handed, and at one point, I leaned over to Phil, and told him, “Gee, I just don’t remember high school being this fraught with inner turmoil.” Maybe it was for others, but I’m a simple girl, I guess.
I also don’t remember being so regretful about my high school career ending. I guess if my senior year was on the tail end of an amazing cocktail of Disney, singing, & dancing on cafeteria tables (the table dancing didn’t come around until college for me ;), I might have been a little more like Troy and Gabriella, gazing around at all my friends, with tears in my eyes, as we held hands in our red graduation gowns, humming, ‘We’re All in this Together’.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t get the heck out of dodge fast enough. Don’t get me wrong. I had fun in high school. I had some good friends. I had some good times and made some fun memories. But, for the life of me, I can’t really remember feeling wistful that it was finished when it was. I was pretty darn stoked, if I recall, (and if I recall the language of the decade, ‘stoked’ was in usage then).
College awaited… a whole new world of dorm life, new friends, challenging classes, and other people who, like me, were venturing out of the various tiny towns where they’d grown up, in search of independence, and possibly, their own identity.
Who knows? Maybe we’ll see all the HSM characters reprising their roles for college life… but I doubt it. HSM, like the musical, Grease, isn’t supposed to be reality. It’s supposed to be an idealized version of the high school experience. That whole, ‘these are the best days of your life’ theory... the ‘glory days’ philosophy.
Hopefully, for most of us, that’s not the case. ;)
High School Musical 3… can’t say I loved it with a capital ‘L’… it was certainly no High School Musical 2! The series is pure cheese, as you know if you’ve seen any of them, but there’s just something that is so addictive about those darn songs. Even Libby stomps around the house, belting out about how she wants all things… “Fab-a-lous”.
HSM 3 was okay (the kids really liked it), but I felt like the previous ones were more fun…more ‘Disney’… a little lighter and fluffier. The third one was kind of heavy-handed, and at one point, I leaned over to Phil, and told him, “Gee, I just don’t remember high school being this fraught with inner turmoil.” Maybe it was for others, but I’m a simple girl, I guess.
I also don’t remember being so regretful about my high school career ending. I guess if my senior year was on the tail end of an amazing cocktail of Disney, singing, & dancing on cafeteria tables (the table dancing didn’t come around until college for me ;), I might have been a little more like Troy and Gabriella, gazing around at all my friends, with tears in my eyes, as we held hands in our red graduation gowns, humming, ‘We’re All in this Together’.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t get the heck out of dodge fast enough. Don’t get me wrong. I had fun in high school. I had some good friends. I had some good times and made some fun memories. But, for the life of me, I can’t really remember feeling wistful that it was finished when it was. I was pretty darn stoked, if I recall, (and if I recall the language of the decade, ‘stoked’ was in usage then).
College awaited… a whole new world of dorm life, new friends, challenging classes, and other people who, like me, were venturing out of the various tiny towns where they’d grown up, in search of independence, and possibly, their own identity.
Who knows? Maybe we’ll see all the HSM characters reprising their roles for college life… but I doubt it. HSM, like the musical, Grease, isn’t supposed to be reality. It’s supposed to be an idealized version of the high school experience. That whole, ‘these are the best days of your life’ theory... the ‘glory days’ philosophy.
Hopefully, for most of us, that’s not the case. ;)
Friday, January 9, 2009
Things I learned or was reminded of this week...
Things I learned or was reminded of this week:
1. Even though a four year old doesn’t usually nap, she probably still needs to.
2. A dislocated toe hurts for a long time. Especially when you whack it on a shoe left in the middle of the floor. Especially when it’s your own shoe. Damn.
3. Guinea pigs poop. A lot.
4. If you put said guinea pigs on the floor in an effort to get a cute picture, the flash will probably startle the little darling, and it will likely try to make a break for it under the sofa.
5. An hour can easily slip away while sitting in Barnes & Noble, reading the first few chapters of Twilight to see if you really want to purchase it.
6. ‘We are often our own worst enemies’ and ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. And a couple of other platitudes.
7. Any rags that have ‘Goof-Off’ on them should go DIRECTLY to the garage. NOT the laundry room… ahem.
8. I take mine and my family’s good health for granted. I need to work on that.
9. Taking at least one picture a day is harder than it sounds. Especially when it's pictures of guinea pigs.
10. That I should keep it in perspective. What? Well, just about everything. ;)
Oops... forgot one: No matter how thorough you are with the Christmas 'undecorating', you will STILL find something that didn't get put away, once the boxes are already sealed and back in storage. Dangit.
1. Even though a four year old doesn’t usually nap, she probably still needs to.
2. A dislocated toe hurts for a long time. Especially when you whack it on a shoe left in the middle of the floor. Especially when it’s your own shoe. Damn.
3. Guinea pigs poop. A lot.
4. If you put said guinea pigs on the floor in an effort to get a cute picture, the flash will probably startle the little darling, and it will likely try to make a break for it under the sofa.
5. An hour can easily slip away while sitting in Barnes & Noble, reading the first few chapters of Twilight to see if you really want to purchase it.
6. ‘We are often our own worst enemies’ and ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. And a couple of other platitudes.
7. Any rags that have ‘Goof-Off’ on them should go DIRECTLY to the garage. NOT the laundry room… ahem.
8. I take mine and my family’s good health for granted. I need to work on that.
9. Taking at least one picture a day is harder than it sounds. Especially when it's pictures of guinea pigs.
10. That I should keep it in perspective. What? Well, just about everything. ;)
Oops... forgot one: No matter how thorough you are with the Christmas 'undecorating', you will STILL find something that didn't get put away, once the boxes are already sealed and back in storage. Dangit.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
It's in the genes...
Biology and genetics are funny things. Sometimes you just can’t escape them.
For example, I have a family history of high cholesterol. There is nothing I can do in the realm of diet and exercise that will lower my cholesterol from the upper reaches of the 200’s to get it to below 200. For this reason, I have to take a low dose statin drug every day (yes, yes...along with diet and exercise. *sigh). That’s biology, my friends. There’s just no getting around it.
So I think it must be in my husband’s biology that he is almost completely incapable of making a bed. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Girls, you’ve GOT to know what I’m talking about here. Last one outta bed should make it, right?! Unfortunately once we are out of bed, there seems to be some sort of invisible (at least to me) force field that prevents anyone with a Y chromosome from approaching it.
And on the few occasions he has fought through his natural inclinations, and has actually pulled the comforter up, the assorted decorative throw pillows still remain neatly stacked on the treadmill. (Isn’t that what you use YOUR treadmill for?!) And the sheets? Usually still in a twisted bundle at the foot of the bed… a lump beneath the comforter that is big enough to make me wonder if he unwittingly made it up with one of the children inside.
His reasoning is this: “We’re just going to get back in bed tonight, so what’s the point of making it up?”
I am tempted to counter with: “There will be another ridiculous movie on the Sci-Fi channel with a one word title (Tarantulas!) later this week, so what’s the point of watching this one?” (Anaconda!)
My girls do a pretty serviceable job of making their beds. Even my four year old can pull her comforter up, and fluff the pillows. My boy? Well, there goes that biology rearing its ugly head. His quilt is just as likely to be shoved into his closet as to be on his bed. Don’t want to mess with it? Stick it in the closet. Phil would probably do the same thing with ours, given half a chance.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are plenty of things that Philip would tell you that I am genetically incapable of doing… such as mowing the lawn, putting Christmas lights on the outside of the house, and cleaning the lint trap from the dryer (I always forget!) I’m not perfect. I just like the bed made.
It’s in my genetic code.
For example, I have a family history of high cholesterol. There is nothing I can do in the realm of diet and exercise that will lower my cholesterol from the upper reaches of the 200’s to get it to below 200. For this reason, I have to take a low dose statin drug every day (yes, yes...along with diet and exercise. *sigh). That’s biology, my friends. There’s just no getting around it.
So I think it must be in my husband’s biology that he is almost completely incapable of making a bed. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Girls, you’ve GOT to know what I’m talking about here. Last one outta bed should make it, right?! Unfortunately once we are out of bed, there seems to be some sort of invisible (at least to me) force field that prevents anyone with a Y chromosome from approaching it.
And on the few occasions he has fought through his natural inclinations, and has actually pulled the comforter up, the assorted decorative throw pillows still remain neatly stacked on the treadmill. (Isn’t that what you use YOUR treadmill for?!) And the sheets? Usually still in a twisted bundle at the foot of the bed… a lump beneath the comforter that is big enough to make me wonder if he unwittingly made it up with one of the children inside.
His reasoning is this: “We’re just going to get back in bed tonight, so what’s the point of making it up?”
I am tempted to counter with: “There will be another ridiculous movie on the Sci-Fi channel with a one word title (Tarantulas!) later this week, so what’s the point of watching this one?” (Anaconda!)
My girls do a pretty serviceable job of making their beds. Even my four year old can pull her comforter up, and fluff the pillows. My boy? Well, there goes that biology rearing its ugly head. His quilt is just as likely to be shoved into his closet as to be on his bed. Don’t want to mess with it? Stick it in the closet. Phil would probably do the same thing with ours, given half a chance.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are plenty of things that Philip would tell you that I am genetically incapable of doing… such as mowing the lawn, putting Christmas lights on the outside of the house, and cleaning the lint trap from the dryer (I always forget!) I’m not perfect. I just like the bed made.
It’s in my genetic code.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Getting Unstuck
I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck.
I ventured into Barnes and Noble today for a little motivation. I wandered around the store, my iPod buds tucked into my ears, and finally found myself in the ‘Writing’ section.
If you haven’t been a part of my little world for the last couple of months, I started a novel in the month of November. I wrote over 50,000 words over the course of that month. I was in the groove… I was cruising… I was loving my story… I was on track to finish in record time. I even have a cool, ‘double meaning' title for my novel: Leaving Messages.
And then enter December. The month of presents, parties, Santa Claus, over-eating, & Christmas movies on ABC’s Family channel. I’m sorry, but who can resist ‘Home Alone’ and ‘Elf’ and ‘A Christmas Story’ and ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’? Hello?! I’m just one woman… and I’m not made of stronger stuff, I guess. December… the month of just about 2000 words. I have lost my momentum. I am so close to the end… but right now I am stuck. Stuck. Stuck.
In the writing section, I perused volumes of writing books, (which for a store as large as this, I was surprised at how tiny the writing section was.) But within those two shelves, I saw quite a few different tomes on how to be a better writer of short stories, novels, poems & screenplays, and guides on how to get published. (Soooo not there, yet.).
There was even an Idiot’s Guide to Writing. Not quite feeling like an idiot yet, I put that one back. There was The Tao of Writing… a little too deep. Writing Boot Camp… been there, done that. It was called NaNoWriMo, remember?! Writing to Change the World… waaaay too much pressure, there. I’m not writing to change the world. Usually I’m just writing for me, and occasionally YOU (but mostly just me ;) And there was more than one book that was a different play on the word, “WRITE”… you know, The Write Stuff… Write On… Publishing a Novel the Write Way. I could never take a book like that seriously.
So, I left without anything, except the hint of a headache. And here I am, back at square #52,530. I just need to take that next leap. I’ve lost momentum, but I haven’t quite lost faith in myself. I will finish it. It may not be a spectacular work of fiction, but it will be a pretty spectacular accomplishment. Now, if I can just get unstuck.
p.s. My middle name is Michelle. ;)
I ventured into Barnes and Noble today for a little motivation. I wandered around the store, my iPod buds tucked into my ears, and finally found myself in the ‘Writing’ section.
If you haven’t been a part of my little world for the last couple of months, I started a novel in the month of November. I wrote over 50,000 words over the course of that month. I was in the groove… I was cruising… I was loving my story… I was on track to finish in record time. I even have a cool, ‘double meaning' title for my novel: Leaving Messages.
And then enter December. The month of presents, parties, Santa Claus, over-eating, & Christmas movies on ABC’s Family channel. I’m sorry, but who can resist ‘Home Alone’ and ‘Elf’ and ‘A Christmas Story’ and ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’? Hello?! I’m just one woman… and I’m not made of stronger stuff, I guess. December… the month of just about 2000 words. I have lost my momentum. I am so close to the end… but right now I am stuck. Stuck. Stuck.
In the writing section, I perused volumes of writing books, (which for a store as large as this, I was surprised at how tiny the writing section was.) But within those two shelves, I saw quite a few different tomes on how to be a better writer of short stories, novels, poems & screenplays, and guides on how to get published. (Soooo not there, yet.).
There was even an Idiot’s Guide to Writing. Not quite feeling like an idiot yet, I put that one back. There was The Tao of Writing… a little too deep. Writing Boot Camp… been there, done that. It was called NaNoWriMo, remember?! Writing to Change the World… waaaay too much pressure, there. I’m not writing to change the world. Usually I’m just writing for me, and occasionally YOU (but mostly just me ;) And there was more than one book that was a different play on the word, “WRITE”… you know, The Write Stuff… Write On… Publishing a Novel the Write Way. I could never take a book like that seriously.
So, I left without anything, except the hint of a headache. And here I am, back at square #52,530. I just need to take that next leap. I’ve lost momentum, but I haven’t quite lost faith in myself. I will finish it. It may not be a spectacular work of fiction, but it will be a pretty spectacular accomplishment. Now, if I can just get unstuck.
p.s. My middle name is Michelle. ;)
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Things you may or may not know about me.
Things you may or may not know about me.
1. I have a twin.
2. I don’t really have a twin. I’m a pathological liar.
3. I’m not REALLY a pathological liar. I am just an embellisher of the truth.
4. Now you’re going to wonder if everything I say is complete and utter crap.
5. Good. That’s what I was shooting for. ;)
6. Here’s one: When I was fourteen, my best friend tried to teach me to drive and I drove her dad’s car right into a deep ditch. It had to be towed out.
7. The song, ‘Release Me’ by Wilson Phillips changed my life for the better.
8. When I was a middle school teacher, I led my Texas Future Problem Solving team to a State Championship two years in a row.
9. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me nauseous.
10. I broke my left arm when I was in junior high, horsing around in the girls’ bathroom.
11. I once saw Emilio Estevez waiting in line at a movie theater in Austin, Texas.
12. I used to have very long hair that hung almost to my waist.
13. I have never been to Canada. But I would like to go.
14. I have been drunk in a border town in Mexico. I would not like to do that again.
15. My middle name is Anne.
16. One of the statements from #6-#15 is not true. Any idea which one it is? ;)
1. I have a twin.
2. I don’t really have a twin. I’m a pathological liar.
3. I’m not REALLY a pathological liar. I am just an embellisher of the truth.
4. Now you’re going to wonder if everything I say is complete and utter crap.
5. Good. That’s what I was shooting for. ;)
6. Here’s one: When I was fourteen, my best friend tried to teach me to drive and I drove her dad’s car right into a deep ditch. It had to be towed out.
7. The song, ‘Release Me’ by Wilson Phillips changed my life for the better.
8. When I was a middle school teacher, I led my Texas Future Problem Solving team to a State Championship two years in a row.
9. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me nauseous.
10. I broke my left arm when I was in junior high, horsing around in the girls’ bathroom.
11. I once saw Emilio Estevez waiting in line at a movie theater in Austin, Texas.
12. I used to have very long hair that hung almost to my waist.
13. I have never been to Canada. But I would like to go.
14. I have been drunk in a border town in Mexico. I would not like to do that again.
15. My middle name is Anne.
16. One of the statements from #6-#15 is not true. Any idea which one it is? ;)
Monday, January 5, 2009
Project 365
So, I’m taking on a new challenge this year… it’s not quite as rigorous a task as NaNoWriMo was, and I promise I won’t bore you with lengthy daily updates. (Um…okay, now is when you’re supposed to say, ‘We loved all that droning on about your novel! Noooo, really we did!’) Anyway, I thought I’d tell you a little about it because I think it will be a cool ‘slice of life’ project.
It’s called Project 365, and it involves taking one picture a day for a year to document your life. No, it’s not a picture of ME everyday (God forbid!)… I have seen some of those on YouTube, and to be perfectly honest, the very thought of that horrifies me. I would know, unequivocally, exactly how many days I spend with a baseball cap stuck down over my messy bedhead. Not sure I want to document that.
No, this involves taking a picture of anything in your life on that given day… the idea being that it is a better ‘snapshot’ of your daily world than a more traditional scrapbook gives. Yes, I know, I’m already a goddess in your mind when it comes to scrapbooking (among other things, right?!), but I thought this sounded like a cool challenge.
I started on January 1st, and the plan is to do a weekly layout which consists of the 7 pictures from the week, and one or two sentences of journaling for each picture. I’m working from Monday through Sunday (so yes, my first week will be a little short…) and so far, I’ve taken pictures of the guinea pigs, Davis reading a chapter book (he’s getting so big!), the kids with all their light sabers playing ‘General Grievous’, and the book we’re reading: The Tale of Despereaux.
The picture of the book is a perfect example… I would not ordinarily make a scrapbook page about reading this book to them, but it is an important little snippet from our family life these days. Now it’s documented. I think that’s pretty awesome.
When I finish my first full week’s layout, I’ll post a picture. I’m looking forward to seeing how it will all come together. A day at a time, I guess… just like real life.
It’s called Project 365, and it involves taking one picture a day for a year to document your life. No, it’s not a picture of ME everyday (God forbid!)… I have seen some of those on YouTube, and to be perfectly honest, the very thought of that horrifies me. I would know, unequivocally, exactly how many days I spend with a baseball cap stuck down over my messy bedhead. Not sure I want to document that.
No, this involves taking a picture of anything in your life on that given day… the idea being that it is a better ‘snapshot’ of your daily world than a more traditional scrapbook gives. Yes, I know, I’m already a goddess in your mind when it comes to scrapbooking (among other things, right?!), but I thought this sounded like a cool challenge.
I started on January 1st, and the plan is to do a weekly layout which consists of the 7 pictures from the week, and one or two sentences of journaling for each picture. I’m working from Monday through Sunday (so yes, my first week will be a little short…) and so far, I’ve taken pictures of the guinea pigs, Davis reading a chapter book (he’s getting so big!), the kids with all their light sabers playing ‘General Grievous’, and the book we’re reading: The Tale of Despereaux.
The picture of the book is a perfect example… I would not ordinarily make a scrapbook page about reading this book to them, but it is an important little snippet from our family life these days. Now it’s documented. I think that’s pretty awesome.
When I finish my first full week’s layout, I’ll post a picture. I’m looking forward to seeing how it will all come together. A day at a time, I guess… just like real life.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Tub time...
I love to take hot baths. It’s one of my favorite things to do. And I can seriously multi-task in a hot tub. Read a magazine, drink a glass of wine, relax, and ignore any chaos that is going on outside my bedroom door. Oh yes, I’ve become quite good at that. I love to lie in the tub, with water hot enough to scald, soak in the scented water, and scrub with a myriad of fancy body washes.
Last night, for instance, I was trying out a new wash I’d gotten for my face that guaranteed that with one use I’d look a decade younger. Just a couple of uses, and I’ll be ready for elementary school again (well, okay, maybe more than ‘a couple’). ;)
It was full of all sorts of yummy smelling botanicals… and evidently it was laced with a little bit of hydrocloric acid, too, because when I accidentally got it in my eye, I just about went blind. I was flailing around in the tub, trying to rinse out my eye, and I managed to pop my contact out and into the palm of my hand. My eye was still on fire, so I wasn’t going to attempt to put it back in.
I thought that the best course of action would be to get out of the tub and put my contacts into their case. I stood up in the tub, ready to step out onto the bathroom mat. Of course, I am still favoring my right foot, since my dislocated toe incident, and I had a brief moment when I was worried that I’d fall ‘ass over teakettle’, climbing out of the slippery tub. I’d have to make a split second decision as to whether I’d catch myself, and possibly sacrifice the contact cupped in my hand or just fall on my already injured foot. I figured that going to Urgent Care to have my toe popped back into place would be cheaper than replacing a contact lens.
Having managed to get out of the tub without incident, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even gotten a towel before I’d gotten into the tub. Why not? Oh, I don’t know. Why do I do half the things I do? I guess I always think that Jerome, the towel gnome, will deliver the towel to me whilst I’m soaking.
So, sans towel (well, sans ANYTHING!), dripping wet, bleary eyed, standing at the bathroom sink, I managed to get my contacts safely stored away. Before I got back into the tub, I figured I should get a towel this time around. Especially since my own towel gnome happened to be downstairs watching college football, and I knew it would be awhile before he made his way upstairs. Besides, it bugs the heck out of him that I’m always forgetting my towel before hopping into the tub or shower, so thought I’d just circumvent that little argument. ;)
Of course, all the clean towels had not yet made it to the linen closet in the bathroom, but were fortunately just a few steps away, folded in a laundry basket in my bedroom. So I run into my room (still dripping wet and um…well, you know…) to grab a towel, and realize that EVERY damn window blind in my bedroom is completely open. Well, that’s just special. Now I’m sure that none of my neighbors saw me… I don’t even know if anyone was outside because I immediately dropped down, and crawled on all fours over to the laundry basket to get a towel to wrap around myself.
Doesn’t that sound like a relaxing way to spend an evening? No wonder I needed a hot bath after that.
Last night, for instance, I was trying out a new wash I’d gotten for my face that guaranteed that with one use I’d look a decade younger. Just a couple of uses, and I’ll be ready for elementary school again (well, okay, maybe more than ‘a couple’). ;)
It was full of all sorts of yummy smelling botanicals… and evidently it was laced with a little bit of hydrocloric acid, too, because when I accidentally got it in my eye, I just about went blind. I was flailing around in the tub, trying to rinse out my eye, and I managed to pop my contact out and into the palm of my hand. My eye was still on fire, so I wasn’t going to attempt to put it back in.
I thought that the best course of action would be to get out of the tub and put my contacts into their case. I stood up in the tub, ready to step out onto the bathroom mat. Of course, I am still favoring my right foot, since my dislocated toe incident, and I had a brief moment when I was worried that I’d fall ‘ass over teakettle’, climbing out of the slippery tub. I’d have to make a split second decision as to whether I’d catch myself, and possibly sacrifice the contact cupped in my hand or just fall on my already injured foot. I figured that going to Urgent Care to have my toe popped back into place would be cheaper than replacing a contact lens.
Having managed to get out of the tub without incident, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even gotten a towel before I’d gotten into the tub. Why not? Oh, I don’t know. Why do I do half the things I do? I guess I always think that Jerome, the towel gnome, will deliver the towel to me whilst I’m soaking.
So, sans towel (well, sans ANYTHING!), dripping wet, bleary eyed, standing at the bathroom sink, I managed to get my contacts safely stored away. Before I got back into the tub, I figured I should get a towel this time around. Especially since my own towel gnome happened to be downstairs watching college football, and I knew it would be awhile before he made his way upstairs. Besides, it bugs the heck out of him that I’m always forgetting my towel before hopping into the tub or shower, so thought I’d just circumvent that little argument. ;)
Of course, all the clean towels had not yet made it to the linen closet in the bathroom, but were fortunately just a few steps away, folded in a laundry basket in my bedroom. So I run into my room (still dripping wet and um…well, you know…) to grab a towel, and realize that EVERY damn window blind in my bedroom is completely open. Well, that’s just special. Now I’m sure that none of my neighbors saw me… I don’t even know if anyone was outside because I immediately dropped down, and crawled on all fours over to the laundry basket to get a towel to wrap around myself.
Doesn’t that sound like a relaxing way to spend an evening? No wonder I needed a hot bath after that.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
WhatEVER!
I find myself using the same phrases over and over. You know me, friends… I like to talk. Boy, do I like to talk. (stop nodding your head in that smug manner.)
To express my astonishment or my incredulity, I am in the habit of saying, ‘Shut UP!’ (Just FYI: the accent is on the ‘UP’). It’s not very nice, I know, but I can’t help myself. Other people point it out to me, especially my children. When I say it, usually talking to one of my girlfriends on the phone, they will all gasp, and say, “Oh, Mommy… you said the ‘S’ word!” Yes, peeps, at MY house the ‘S’ word is ‘shut up’. Or ‘stupid’. And the ‘F’ word is ‘fart’. Gotta love little kids. ;)
When I would work summers at a daycamp during college, I became practically famous among the staff for the following phrase: “Go wash your face and get a drink of water. You’ll feel better.” That was my magic cure-all for unhappy little campers who were arguing, crying or otherwise just whiny. Get hit in the noggin with a ball? “Go wash your face and get a drink of water.” Heatstroke? Same thing. (just kidding, people!) I must have said that two dozen times a day for one malady or another. The other staffers started using it, and I spent several long, hot summers at that daycamp, with kids who thought that water had medicinal properties.
Other things I say on a regular basis:
- ‘my friend’ (I say this ENTIRELY too much. Both in conversation and in my blog.)
- ‘ya think?’ (Phil just said that I say that a lot. I answered, of course… ‘Ya think?’)
- ‘Love it!’
- ‘Can I get a NO?’ or sometimes, ‘Can I get a HELL NO?’ (um…that’s the ‘H’ word)
- And we mustn’t forget… ‘Omigod…’
But there is one phrase that I wasn’t even aware that I used all the time, until we moved to Colorado, and we met our awesome pals, Jesse and Jen. (Much like you don’t realize you have an ‘accent’ until you move somewhere else, and everyone points it out to you!) Jesse always gets the biggest laugh out of me saying, “Do what?” Who knew I said it so often? It’s just a knee jerk response that means… I guess, “What?” or “Pardon?” or “I didn’t hear you,” or “Excuuuuse me?” Depending on how it is said, it can be a question, an answer, or even a sarcastic retort. Well, Jesse had never heard it before, and even now, when we see each other (not nearly often enough, Levines!), he’ll crack up the first time he hears me say it.
Yep, that’s me, my friends. Do what? You knew all this about me? Shut UP! Really… ya think?
To express my astonishment or my incredulity, I am in the habit of saying, ‘Shut UP!’ (Just FYI: the accent is on the ‘UP’). It’s not very nice, I know, but I can’t help myself. Other people point it out to me, especially my children. When I say it, usually talking to one of my girlfriends on the phone, they will all gasp, and say, “Oh, Mommy… you said the ‘S’ word!” Yes, peeps, at MY house the ‘S’ word is ‘shut up’. Or ‘stupid’. And the ‘F’ word is ‘fart’. Gotta love little kids. ;)
When I would work summers at a daycamp during college, I became practically famous among the staff for the following phrase: “Go wash your face and get a drink of water. You’ll feel better.” That was my magic cure-all for unhappy little campers who were arguing, crying or otherwise just whiny. Get hit in the noggin with a ball? “Go wash your face and get a drink of water.” Heatstroke? Same thing. (just kidding, people!) I must have said that two dozen times a day for one malady or another. The other staffers started using it, and I spent several long, hot summers at that daycamp, with kids who thought that water had medicinal properties.
Other things I say on a regular basis:
- ‘my friend’ (I say this ENTIRELY too much. Both in conversation and in my blog.)
- ‘ya think?’ (Phil just said that I say that a lot. I answered, of course… ‘Ya think?’)
- ‘Love it!’
- ‘Can I get a NO?’ or sometimes, ‘Can I get a HELL NO?’ (um…that’s the ‘H’ word)
- And we mustn’t forget… ‘Omigod…’
But there is one phrase that I wasn’t even aware that I used all the time, until we moved to Colorado, and we met our awesome pals, Jesse and Jen. (Much like you don’t realize you have an ‘accent’ until you move somewhere else, and everyone points it out to you!) Jesse always gets the biggest laugh out of me saying, “Do what?” Who knew I said it so often? It’s just a knee jerk response that means… I guess, “What?” or “Pardon?” or “I didn’t hear you,” or “Excuuuuse me?” Depending on how it is said, it can be a question, an answer, or even a sarcastic retort. Well, Jesse had never heard it before, and even now, when we see each other (not nearly often enough, Levines!), he’ll crack up the first time he hears me say it.
Yep, that’s me, my friends. Do what? You knew all this about me? Shut UP! Really… ya think?
Friday, January 2, 2009
I resolve to...
Do you make New Year’s resolutions? I think most people do, even if they don’t actually write them down or list them out. But the beginning of a new year seems a bit like a fresh start, and even if you don’t make ‘Resolutions’ (note the capital R), chances are good that you have a few things you’d like to do differently in 2009. I know I do, and of course, since I keep nothing from you, my wonderful readers, I thought I’d share with you what my mantra for 2009 will be. (I just KNEW you’d want to know!)
My ‘theme’ for the new year is simple… it’s not a list of detailed resolutions, but its what I’m going to be shooting for. My mantra is this: Cut back.
Yep, that’s pretty much it. And it encompasses a lot of things for me. The things I need to cut back on… scale down… simplify… For example:
I need to cut back my calories… simple as that.
I need to cut back on my diet Coke consumption (*sob!)…
I need to cut back on my frivolous computer time (but I will sure miss chatting with my pals on IM so much! Heck, maybe I can even finish my novel.)
I need to cut back on my volunteering.
I need to cut back on spending money.
I think if I can succeed in working on these things (among others), good things will bloom up in their place. I want more time with my family. More time to read to my kids. More chances to be with my girlfriends. I want to be more fit. I want more time to do the things that I want to do, rather than the things that I feel compelled to do. I want to remember what is really important in this life. I want to reclaim some time.
So, maybe by cutting back, I can work on simplifying my life. That’s my goal. Just a little reminder to myself that in order for my life to be as full and rich as it should be, I have to let some things go.
I think I can do that.
My ‘theme’ for the new year is simple… it’s not a list of detailed resolutions, but its what I’m going to be shooting for. My mantra is this: Cut back.
Yep, that’s pretty much it. And it encompasses a lot of things for me. The things I need to cut back on… scale down… simplify… For example:
I need to cut back my calories… simple as that.
I need to cut back on my diet Coke consumption (*sob!)…
I need to cut back on my frivolous computer time (but I will sure miss chatting with my pals on IM so much! Heck, maybe I can even finish my novel.)
I need to cut back on my volunteering.
I need to cut back on spending money.
I think if I can succeed in working on these things (among others), good things will bloom up in their place. I want more time with my family. More time to read to my kids. More chances to be with my girlfriends. I want to be more fit. I want more time to do the things that I want to do, rather than the things that I feel compelled to do. I want to remember what is really important in this life. I want to reclaim some time.
So, maybe by cutting back, I can work on simplifying my life. That’s my goal. Just a little reminder to myself that in order for my life to be as full and rich as it should be, I have to let some things go.
I think I can do that.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
You cuckoo people asked for it...
There's my toe in all it's dislocated glory. Sorry if I made you flinch or wince.
I was very hesitant to put the picture on here... not because it looks crazy as heck, but because I am in desperate need of a pedicure! Oh well.
Today its totally bruised and purplish, and I am walking pretty gingerly, mostly because I'm completely paranoid that its going to pop out again. Oh yeah, I didn't tell you that part? The doctor at the Urgent Care Clinic told me I might want to learn how to pop it back in by myself because once something is dislocated, it's much more likely to get dislocated again.
Isn't that just extra special?
I was very hesitant to put the picture on here... not because it looks crazy as heck, but because I am in desperate need of a pedicure! Oh well.
Today its totally bruised and purplish, and I am walking pretty gingerly, mostly because I'm completely paranoid that its going to pop out again. Oh yeah, I didn't tell you that part? The doctor at the Urgent Care Clinic told me I might want to learn how to pop it back in by myself because once something is dislocated, it's much more likely to get dislocated again.
Isn't that just extra special?
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