Thursday, December 31, 2009

2009: What a Ride . . .

Every year brings about changes. You can never say this year was just like last year. And don't even get it in your head that next year is going to be just like this year - good or bad.

Looking back on 2009, this blogger has seen a lot of changes.

Let's see, I started the year off as "The Laughing Idiot" and while it's a very appropriate, I'm not the only idiot out there. So Pollyanna emerged as the one who could see the the bright side of most situations (otherwise you all just didn't hear about it), even those including her own dorkiness.

What?

You don't remember how big a dork I am?

You don't remember the time I opened the umbrella on myself? In the car?

Or the time I tried to use a toaster oven at work? Or the time I ate greasey chips while reading a weight watchers magazine?

And I'm not the only one out there.

Hubby eating watermelon?

The people at the Kindergarten Readiness meeting? Sometimes I wonder why you don't have to get a government issued license to have children.

Speaking of Kindergarten, the biggest change for us was realizing that our oldest baby was smart enough to rhyme, old enough to lose teeth and tall enough to be mistaken for a school ager. So, bitter-sweetly, we went ahead and sent her off to Kindergarten.

This year our carpets smell fresher than last year - at least they did for a few days after Stinkles squirted toothpaste all over them.

I've learned several things this year too (and once you learn them, you don't generally unlearn them so I'll have to learn something new next year).

I've learned:



One of the most awesome things from this past year that will probably never happen again - Oprah's people called me! It probably won't happen again because I'm not really all that interesting now that they've actually talked to me.

And she's going into her final season.

*pouting*

Oh well, 2010 should be interesting. With my random acts of dorkdom, my own family's idiosycracies, and everyone around me doing and saying and singing the funniest stuff, we're all sure to learn something new.

Or have a good chuckle at the very least.

Silver Lining:
  1. Most of you have been with me throughout 2009 - thanks for hanging out.

  2. Cheers to all of you staying on the ride with me as I travel through 2010.

Monday, December 28, 2009

This is What Happens When You Drink an Entire Bottle of Wine By Yourself

randomtuesday


Random Tuesday Thoughts couldn't come at a better time, because I am less than coherent and totally on a random path.

So let's just go.

Boobs.

I've got big ones. Seriously, I could end up with black eyes if I tried to run a spint. Someday, I'm going to get a boob-ectomy, but for now, I'm stuck with the big ones that take up waaaaaaay too much room in my shirts. It is quite the bummer because I could breast feed using only one position - the football hold. You literally hold your baby like you're tucking a football. The timing of this conversation was totally ironic because we're totally watching da Bears vs the Vikings right now.

I seriously hope the the Vikings lose. Not just because I'm from Green Bay and am totally pissed that Favre left to go the Jets then on to a rival team. But because I just watched the movie Kicking and Screaming with Mike Ditka and I really want him to have a good night with da Bears winning.

Good thing there is spell check. You guys should have seen that previous paragraph prior to spell check. There are words like "totaltally" and "pised" and "MOVIE".

Also, it's a good think I'm wearing waterproof Mary Kay Ultimate Mascara. I keep laughing, and tears are forming in the corners of my eyes. I'd be a raccoon if it wasn't waterproof.

That's really hard for me too, wishing da Bears a victory. Being from Green Bay makes it really hard to root for either da Bears or the Vikings. It's like ripping my heart out. Unless you've been there, you just have no idea.

The Wine Bar has the best Shrimp Parmesan dip. It's wonderful because they serve it with warm French bread. It's super crusty and there is no just taking a bite right off the baguette. You would end up with way too many unladylike crumbs on your boobs. Unless you're flat chested. Being as I have big boobs, I would have the crumb problem. To be ladylike (aside from the snortful, drunken laughter), I broke up the baguette.

The Wine Bar has a huge full length mirror directly across from the toilet in the ladies room. If you're a "wide wiper", you can look at your pretty parts. I'm not sure if it's the same in men's room. I didn't go check it out. Really, what would be pretty about that?

Dang it, a Bear just got hurt. Look out! Mama bear is upset. I can't have them hurt; it might ruin their lead. Mama bear - that hurts too. But it's better than being a Viking.

Seriously, I do not have a single pretty picture of a Viking woman in my head. They'd all be named Helga - Helga Favre. Not a pretty part. A bear is really a much better picture - sad.

Well, that's it for my random thoughts. For the guys, let's end on the same note as we began.

Boobs.

Silver Lining:

  1. While the Vikings and da Bears were playing in cold, cold, cold Chicago, no one's armpits were showing signs of emitting steam. That would have been weird and wrong.

  2. The Wine Bar is only a quarter mile from home so you can leave during a commercial and still make it home in time to make fun of the Vikings without missing a play.

  3. Keely's got lots more people with coherent random thoughts. Perhaps, you should pop over there. Click here, or on the purple button all the way back at the top of the page.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Christmas Is . . .

Wishing everyone the Merriest Christmas ever!

Besides the obvious (and by obvious, I mean the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ, not Santa and presents), what does Christmas mean to me? Well, you all are in luck because I plan to tell you.

Mistletoe. A bell hangs from the bottom of ours. We like to stand under it and ring the bell so someone notices and gives us a kiss. Good thing there is a bell because standing under the mistletoe loudly saying (Will Farrell style), "I'm standing under the mistletoe. The mistletoe has someone standing under it. Hello people, mistletoe stander here." Well, that would just be weird.

Extra days off work. Not that they are really days off. The kids get up at six in the morning because they don't understand the concept of sleeping in on a day off. Then, there is the cooking, shopping, housecleaning, etc. that you feel you must do while on vacation. I don't know anyone who takes time off work and actually loafs around their own house. Most of the time we pay good money to travel someplace in order to act like a bump on a log in the name of being on vacation. Never mind the fact that if you were disciplined enough you could do it at home for FREE!

Risking your dignity in order to get the very last, "I must have it" present. We've all been there. Everyone out there has tried to make a child's dream come true at some point.

Return lines for all those thanks-but-that's-not-what-I-wanted-you-should-have-done-a-gift card items. I really don't like giving gift cards. But forcing someone to stand in line to return an item, get a store credit and have to stand in line to buy what they really want just doesn't seem very Christmas-y. A gift card just expedites the process. I actually like getting a gift card for places I don't normally shop for myself. It forces me to do something for me.

Yuletide carols. What is a yule? I jumped away to look that up (not that you could tell) - apparently, it has something to do with a 12 day hunt that occurred around this time of year in good ole Germany. I wonder if that hunt yielded dancing ladies, drummers drumming, golden rings and a partridge in a pear tree too.



Cupie. The sparkle in her excited eyes rivals any star in the sky. She's a rare creature who will insist you tickle her more which I happily indulge in just to hear her laughter.

Hubby. Without my husband there is no Christmas. Not because he gets me a lot of presents. He is my champion, he is my soul mate. He is the killer of spiders, the disciplinarian of children, the believer in Reagan-omics. God brought Hubby to me, and I accepted His gift with all my heart. There is no Christmas without my husband because there is no Christmas without God.

Ringing bells announcing the beginning of church services. I know they are rung before every service, but on Christmas, they just sound a little richer, bolder, truer.

Iridescent sheen on fancy stuff - clothes, ornaments, napkin rings. Twinkly lights shining through the light layer of snow.

Stinkles. With hair that is a deeper and more beautiful red than any Christmas bow, she has the passionate personality to match. It's that passion I love so much. Her stubborn attitude is the one that insists that she's not tired even though she's falling asleep standing up. And it's the one to force me to set aside the need get out the door for the appointment I'm already late for in order to snuggle for a couple of minutes.

Time with friends. We had a progressive dinner recently. It only took us five or six hours to "have dinner", but it is a highlight each year. Yes, there is A LOT of food. But making the time for conversation, laughter, and enjoying the company you're with is an important part of the feeling of Christmas.

Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters - family. Then, there is the extended family. And the friends who might as well be family. Wow, the house can get pretty full! Much better than the alternative. May we all be able to spend this time of year with someone.

Astronomical budget bleeding. I can't help it!

Struttin' around in your giant pink bunny suit, or what ever obnoxious article of clothing your weird aunt _____________(insert the name of your choice here)made you this year. It's more fun to strut around like a proud peacock than to sulk in a corner. Have fun with it!

Silver Lining:

  1. In a world full of sin, God sent his only child to die for our sins.

  2. I don't think we need anything more than that. Merry Christmas everyone!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Fast Cash

Yes, I know I've been absent for awhile - sorry. I've been very busy and not my usual chipper self, but I've got a little giggle for you today.

Have you seen these ads on TV: "Send us your gold and we'll send you a check." They show a pile of glitz. Then, a person with a goofy, fake surprise look and and fistful of cash pops up.

I've often thought, who in their right mind is going to blindly send off their jewelry that is potentially worth a fistful of cash? Must be a scam.

I don't know about the places on TV, but apparently, there is a local place that buys gold for cash. A girlfriend of mine just traded in some broken chains, earrings that were missing the match, rings she doesn't wear, etc. She watched the entire time as a balding guy behind the counter scrutinized her offerings under a magnifying glass, weighed the acceptable pieces, punched some numbers into a calculator and handed her a wad of cash!

This morning, I eagerly went through all my jewelry in anticipation of a lunch time adventure.

Amongst other pieces, I had:

  • a broken chain necklace

  • a bracelet I had gotten from a boyfriend sixteen years ago

  • various single earrings

  • the original setting for my engagement ring

  • and a ring that I couldn't where it came from

It was a pretty ring with a tear-drop shaped opal offset by a couple of diamond dust chips. I was still looking at it, wondering where I had gotten it, when Hubby came to check out the loot.

"Where did you get that?"

"I was just wondering that myself."


Then, it hit me.

"Oh, yah. The other Knuckle-head gave that to me."

The other "Knuckle-head" was a guy I dated before Hubby and happens to have the same first name as Hubby.

He was such a jerk, when I decided to break up with him, I refused his phone calls for an entire day while I filled about half of one of those blank journals with all his short comings. When I was finished writing about how much of a jerk he was, I called him over to my place, sat him down (I remained standing) and read him passages from the journal. I even made him wait while I said, "And another thing, hold on I need to find it," so I could find the right page. I made sure he knew why I broke up with him.

Cold? Perhaps. But that jerk still had the nerve to tell people he didn't understand what went wrong with us!!!!!!!

*shudders*

Anywho. Hubby looked at the ring again, plucked it out of my hands, and tossed in with all the rest of the jewelry to be traded.

"Yup, that's goin'."

Silver Lining:
  1. Got $25 for that ring.

  2. Got about $300 for everything else. I couldn't believe I had that much "money" lying around - it was all stuff I don't wear for one reason or another. You just never know what you're sitting on!

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Parental Logic

Because I've got eyes in the back of my head . . .

I brought you into this world, and I can take you out . . .

Keep it up and Santa may put you on the naughty list . . .

Because I said so . . .

Ah, the logic of parents.

My girls are small enough to still believe almost everything I say. Especially if I say it with any sort of authority.

From personal experience, I know this will not continue into the teenage years.

Case & point (I was about sixteen):

"Dad, are there onions in this?"

I can't stand onions. I can taste them in everything.

Hubby and I went to the Waffle House once and my order of hashbrowns had been cooked on a griddle that at one point in time had onions on it. I nearly choked on the first bite - they had a distinct onion taste. I wasn't even hungry after that.

Dramatic? Yes.

Changable? No.

Back to dinner with my dad.

With a look of complete disbelief, he answered, "How could you tell? I minced them up! You can't even taste them."

Being a smart*ssy teenager, I responded, "If you can't taste them, then why are they in there?"

"For flavor." Too late - Dad was soooooo busted.

I just grinned from ear to ear and pushed my bowl away.

Silver Lining:

  1. I had gotten too big for him to knock me into next week.

  2. I had gotten old enough to take notes for my own parenting manual. Too bad I was a perfect angel. That manual is not helping me deal with the temper tantrums and mischievous actions of my own girls.

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