The Mom

They say the memory is the first thing to go, but my mom has a plan to combat that.

First, she has a spreadsheet that has all her passwords in it. The spreadsheet itself is not password protected. Before you freak out, I'll let you know that it doesn't have any user names or websites on it. It's just a list. For this reason, this first part of the plan is not working so well because she has no idea which user name or website goes with each password.

Second, she has a print out of security questions and their answers that she carries around in her purse. Now, the list has some pretty obscure questions such as, "What is the birthday of your favorite boss?"

I understand want to keep this information written down. It's probably a date pulled from thin air. Who knows their favorite boss's birthday? I know my boss's birthday because the VP of Finance brings in bagels to commemorate the date. Except for the promise of breakfast, I have no real reason to remember this information.

However, the second part of her plan isn't working either. Once again, she doesn't know what website these obscure security questions belong to. You would think it would stick out in her mind because of the odd questions, but alas, it didn't.

Further proof that her password memory is going to pot is evidenced right here on this blog. You will note, her comments on this post are from Anonymous, but signed "The Mom".

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/04/im-such-dork.html

Then, she gets hip and signs up for a Google account so she can be "The Mom" instead of anonymous. See this post on April 24th:

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/04/kindergarten.html

A mere week later, she has returned to Anonymous on this post:

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-irony.html

She couldn't remember the password to her Google account!

It's probably on the non-password-protected list somewhere. Oh well, gotta love her!

Silver Lining:

1. She still remembers where she lives, where I live, and all our names.

2. She also remembers all the words to "The Phantom of the Opera" and belts them out while driving. She just forgets to take her foot off the gas petal when the music builds (she got a ticket for this at least once - that's another funny mom story).

3. It's the little quirks like this that make me love her so much.

Another Dork Moment

I don't know when we moved to Seattle, but apparently it happened sometime last week. I'm sure it was a Harry Potter operation. They moved my entire house, the yard, even my neighbors! Amazing what a magic wand and some nifty, rhyme-y spells will do.

I just will not stop raining here!

So me and my umbrella were getting out of the car once I arrived at work late because of traffic. You know the weather is bad when I'M stuck in traffic, and my commute is only 10 miles.

I have one of the cool umbrellas that opens with the click of a button. I guess it's not really that cool, because almost all umbrellas are like that today. But I remember when we poor souls had to push the little do-hicky in and manually push the umbrella up until you hear the click. It really s*cked when you had a paper cut on your thumb. Of course, this was back in the day when I walked to school, uphill both ways, in the pouring ran with no shoes - sniff, sniff, I had such a tough life.

I usually open the door, stick my arm out and open the umbrella above the door so the rest of me doesn't get wet. Not today!

I hit the button as I was grabbing my purse. INSIDE THE CAR! I had the umbrella positioned in a way that it opened all the way and flipped my glasses off. It was like a reverse airbag.

I'm such a dork - again.

Silver Lining:
1. The umbrella closes as easily as it opens.

2. There wasn't anyone in the parking lot so I didn't get a lot of sh*t for it. Although, I'm totally going to get it from all of you. At least it won't be to my face :)

Lake or Pool?

What is a lake?

There are a lot of definitions, but here’s the general gist:

• It is deep enough that you can not cross without a boat. You can make that argument about some ponds as well, but wait, there’s more.


• Because of the lack of sunlight reaching the bottom of the body of water, a lake can not support rooted plants except near the shoreline.


• It’s not an ocean because it is a standing body of water. Not that anyone is going to mistake the Pleasantville lakes for an ocean anytime soon, this was purely informational.

Anywho, Pleasantville has a kick-a** pool club (leisure, kiddie, lap & lazy river), and it opened this weekend! However, there has been a lot of rain lately so the general consensus was that the water would be like ice.

So why did I see so many ding-bat teenagers swimming in the lakes? According to my definitions above, that water should have been colder than the pool! No way I was going to check it out, because our lakes really ought to have the following signage:

Beware the Piranha!

Well, if piranha could survive a Missouri winter, you would have cause for alarm. Fortunately, we only have bass and bluegill in the lakes.

You would think the bass would be scary because they are bigger than bluegill, but it’s the little ones that get you! The bluegills have a preference for certain exposed areas of the human body and they just have to have a taste. Men, let’s just say it may be to your advantage to wear a shirt in the water.

I know this because last summer, a neighbor of mine (who is black – not that it would make a difference otherwise, but it’s important to the story) and a few family members decided to take a dip in the lake, swim out to the raft & enjoy a summer’s day. They jumped in the water, and that’s when the bluegill appeared. It was like a swarm of mosquitoes.

There was some splashing and screaming and one of the guys kept getting bit on the nipple. His nipple was pierced so I’m sure that’s what first attracted them to him. You know fish are like children. Jiggle something shiny in their path and it will draw them in like moths to a flame. Once the bluegill were there, and realized their favorite treat (people skin) was available, they wouldn’t leave pierced nipple guy alone.

Anyway, they high-tailed it out to the raft, heaved themselves up the side and sat breathless in disbelief. As they looked out in to the water, more and more fish were appearing. Had they put their toes in the water, it would have been like piglets to the teats, but much more painful. Knowing they couldn’t stay out there forever, but fearful of the bluegill, they had to come up with a plan.

Pierced nipple guy was the knight in shining armor (which would have actually come in handy here, but armor makes it really hard to swim). He would make a diversion so the ladies could swim back to the dock. In an act of supreme selflessness, he did a cannon ball into the water and the ladies made it to shore safely.

As they were walking up the dock, a woman was watching her sons play in the water.

My neighbor warned her, “There are biting fish in the water. Your boys better watch out.”

The woman said, “Oh, really? They haven’t had any trouble with that.”

My neighbor huffed a bit. “I guess they only like dark meat.”


Silver lining:

1. There may have been a grand plan in place here. It’s a very family oriented community and perhaps the developers were trying to prevent people from skinny dipping in the lakes. I’m grateful for that and considering the age range of people living here, there are plenty of people I don’t want to see skinny dipping. Oh, and I don’t want my girls, when they’re teenagers, going skinny dipping either. Skinny dipping in seclusion = good. Skinny dipping in community lake = bad.

2. I say again, we have a community pool that is super cool. No bluegill allowed.

Friends

I have been blessed with another recognition from my fellow bloggers!

Thank you to Jan at The Little Web for giving me the Most Wonderful Favorite award!

The rules:

Deliver this award to eight bloggers who then must choose and deliver the award to eight more and include the following text in the award:

"These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers."

I had also gotten this award for The Goofy Gardener from Squirrel Queen, but I can come up with eight more bloggers. Not all bloggers are into the awards, but I like them anyway, appreciate their comments and think they are definately worth visiting.

Please take a little time to visit the following blogs:

Confessions of a Desparate Housewife

Good Girl in the Naughty City

Is There Any Mommy Out There?

Laughs and Giggles About Marriage, Cooking & Commuting to NYC

The Journey Within Yourself

It's Gonna Take More Than a Hamburger to Make Me Happy

It Was Dark, Stormy & I Lost My Serial Comma

Pwn Star

Silver lining: I'm "Wonderful" - it doesn't get much silvery than that!

Jewel of a Find

I had been searching and searching for the right piece of furniture to act as a sideboard in my dining room. I needed something that wasn’t any deeper than 14” and had storage. A charger and serving platters had to fit in it too.

Oh yah, it had to be cheap, but nice. Hubby was a little tired of my decorating expenses. Sometimes you have to give them a little sense of control so I agreed to look for something less than $75.

I found things on Craigslist, but they were either too ugly, too expensive, too deep, too long, too tall, too not storage-y.

Then miracle of miracles, I found one that was nice looking, perfect depth & length, had plenty of storage, a little on the tall-ish side, but it was FREE!

How did I come upon this jewel? Well, it all started one night after dinner.

Ken, Barbie & brood had come over for dinner. The kids were driving us nuts so they were relegated to the upstairs. Hubby & Ken got out Guitar Hero (the one that only cost $5.65 – are we lucky or what?) and started jammin’. So Barbie & I were left alone for chit-chat. That by itself is a miracle.

A few glasses of wine (each) and lots of girly talk led us to the office closet. I can sense the gears in your brain moving. You know all the men reading this leaned forward and went “there”, right?

I just “had” to show her the fabulous curtain material I scammed a deal on (The guys just slumped back in their chairs. Did you hear it? I’ll be lucky if they bother to keep reading).

While poking around, Barbie noticed a bookcase. Cherry in color, glass doors, about 14” deep. Now the gears in our brains got chuggin’. They had totally been slowed down by all the wine.

“Why don’t you use this in the dining room?”

“Because it’s filled with crap.”

“Get a measuring tape, let’s see if it will fit.”

“Barbie, look at all the CRAP. And there’s all this crap on the floor in front of it.”

You could barely walk into the 6X6 closet!!

I rolled my eyes. We measured the bookcase.

“Fine, I guess it will fit. Now where am I going to put all this crap.”

“Worry about that later.” She started taking stuff out and setting it on the futon. Sure, I’ll worry about it later. Like when she’s gone home and doesn’t have to worry about it herself.

The futon was loaded up and we were ready to move the bookcase out of the closet. We needed those moving men thingys – good thing they were part of the crap that was in the bookcase earlier.

As we were pulling/pushing the bookcase out of the closet, we had to turn it right away, but the futon was in the way. Since we had loaded it up with crap, it was heavy. Some of the crap needed to be moved. So we put it by the closed side of the double doors to the room.

With the futon out of the way, we made tracks across the office floor to the door. Crap! We needed the second door to the room opened to get it out. We had to move the crap back to the futon.

To get to the dining room we had to go through the family room. The boys were in the middle of a song so we just stood there letting the bookcase hold us up (remember a lot of wine was involved – our limbs were wobbly enough without the added deprivation of oxygen from all the crap movement).

When they finished (never mind pausing the game), they moved out of the way so we could push it across the room. Did they help us? No. Did they even offer to help us? No. We didn’t really need them, but it would have been nice.

After quarter-inching (you know when you move something just a smidge to the left, right, back, forward, up, down and then move it back again – this drives men nuts, you women should try it sometime for a little fun and/or revenge for whatever manish thing he did) the bookcase about fifty times, we got it right.

Five kitchen cabinet shelves later, all the fancy-wear made it to the dining room.

Barbie & her brood left, and of course, I still had an empty office closet and a futon full of crap.

Hell’s bells, I’ll worry about that later!

Silver lining:

1. I have five empty shelves in the kitchen – whoo who, I can move the miscellaneous kitchen gadgets out of the pantry and into the kitchen. More room for food – we like food so it’s a good thing.

2. Did I mention the bookcase was free? Of course, I paid for it at one point, but in accountant speak, that’s a sunk cost.

3. All the crap made it back into the office closet right before my mom came to visit three weeks later. Did it take me three weeks to move it all back? Oh, no – it took three weeks to come up with the motivation.

4. I managed to use the word crap 13 times in one post. Gee mom, you must be so proud.

It's a Homophone!

My five year old, Cupie, is pretty tall at four feet. This is especially apparent when you compare Cupie to her friends, Tessy & Prancer, who come from vertically challenged parents.

For this reason, there has been a running joke for quite some time referring to my kids as “Amazons”. Stinkles is actually pretty average. However, compared to Prancer (who is more than a year older), Stinkles is at least the same height, if not a smidge taller.

Because Stinkles is only three and can’t reach the light switches or the sinks, we have step stools in the bathrooms.

Okay, that's all the background information you need for the story :)

The girls’ bathroom has one sink with drawers on either side of the vanity. For whatever reason that stool ALWAYS has to be right in the middle. To get to the light switch, Stinkles will reeeeaaach over to turn on the lights.

Both girls also insist on being able to see themselves in the middle of the mirror when they are getting their hair done. This makes no sense to me – they have a five foot vanity! It goes back to some of the bathroom etiquette of separating individual activities. Just like you don’t take the middle stall in a three stall bathroom, you don’t need to stand in the middle of the vanity when there is plenty of individual space on either side of the sink.

I did this on purpose when we built the house so they each had their own drawers, outlet and vanity space – they only had to share the sink for spitting out toothpaste and washing hands. These activities take, like a minute, compared to the three hours they will spend daily getting ready to leave the house when they are teenagers. Hmmmm, share for a minute with one sink or share a vanity for three hours in order to have two sinks? Hormones, sisters, bad hair days – I think I’ll take the one minute of sharing.

Sorry about the detour.

Anyway, Cupie is too tall to stand on the stool while I’m doing her hair – I can’t see the top of her head when I’m putting in a pony tail or ribbons. Instead, she kneels on the top step (although she’s starting to get too tall for that too).

Recently, she asked me, “Why do I have to kneel on the stool?”

It had been an exasperating morning already so I sighed and said, “Because you have Amazon genes.”

Her face twisted up and she exclaimed indignantly, “No, I don’t. I gave those to Stinkles!”

She thought I meant “jeans”!

Silver lining:

1. She now occasionally stands on the floor (on her side of the vanity) to get her hair done. Baby steps, folks!

2. I told her the difference between jeans and genes. FYI – genes are instructions in the manual God used to make her. That’s how she ended up a tall, brown-eyed, cute-as-a button kid!

Get Smart

If you are in a technical field most people assume you are smart, correct?

Take, for instance, anything to do with computers. If you can open a box, connect cables, insert several plugs into a power strip, AND make a computer turn on, you’re doing okay. Get that internet thing goin’ on and you’re doing good.

Let’s take that to the next level. Let’s say, you can figure out how to connect more than one computer, set up a fire wall, route your telephone, and get movies on the TV using nothing more than a little box and a black cable, you’re on a roll!

There are a lot of people who have accomplished the above within their homes. We have all that, but that’s only because Hubby is a computer networking guru. It’s certainly not because of my computer know-how.

If it were up to me, I would have a land line, cable, and one computer with dial-up.

You know why?

Because someone else would have come in and hooked all this stuff up for me. And each one would remain separate so that I could tell exactly what which one is broken without using any non-existent computer/electronics troubleshooting abilities.

Hubby’s abilities go much further than home electronics, but I couldn’t even begin to tell you what else he does – it’s that complicated. He’s the guy that takes all those 24-like computer/electronic gadgets and makes them all “talk” to each other.

On the subject of 24 – that Chloe character has got to be smart, right? She hacks into all the s*ck-*ss networks (that Hubby did not set up/secure) in order to obtain necessary schematics to top secret underground tunnels and reprogram their computers to play the Hamster Dance every time there was an incoming e-mail.

Computer programming. Now, there’s some genius.

How many people understand that language?

Honestly, how many of my fellow bloggers been to The Blog Doctor whenever you’ve wanted to do something cool, but Blogger didn’t have a readily available gadget? How do you all think I figured out how to put those tabs on the top of my page?

On a daily basis, I walk amongst such geniuses. We have almost an entire floor of our building housing electrical engineers and programmers. These are the guys we depend on in order to create the product the sales department has already sold. They better be smart!

Imagine my surprise the other day, as I was walking to the break room (I think I needed more potato chips), which requires a walk amongst the geniuses, when I heard someone whistling.

What were they whistling, you ask?

IF I ONLY HAD A BRAIN!


Silver Lining:

1. This person was only one out of over a hundred in the engineering department.

2 . In an economy like this, we’re still producing what the customers want and the customers are still buying. We’re more fortunate than other companies out there.

Mouthy Housewives

Hysterical site, I just have to share. For all you anti-Dear Abby types, this is the advice column for you!




Enjoy!

I'm Too Sexy For My Blog

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Wow, That Was Awkward has given me the "Sexy Blogger" Award. Just writing that made me blush a little.

If only you all knew how NOT sexy I am, but I'll give it a whirl.

In order to accept I need to state five things that are sexy about myself.

1. My eyes - I can really turn on the charm with these babies. If I do say, by using some eye shadow and a lash curler do-dad, I can get a lot of things with just my eyes alone. I'll leave the "what" to your imagination.

2. My optimism - I can find something good in anything. Hey, I think there's a blog out there about doing just that. Having a positive outlook is sexy to the point of almost being annoying. I guess it's a fine line.

3. My laugh - Not the one that is loud and boistrous. You know that "HA!" burst - that one can be kind of annoying (hmmm, maybe I should have gotten the "Annoying Blogger" award). I'm talking about the one that comes out naturally, when I'm comfortable and just having a good time.

4. My lips - I've been blessed with full, heart-shaped lips - very kissable. Sorry folks, they are reserved for Hubby only. The fact that all of you can't have a kiss from my lips is sexy in its own right.

5. My ability to use power tools - That's right! I have my own tool bag, but it only has a drill. However, Hubby has lots of other power tools and I actually know how to use most of them! There is nothing sexier than a chic pulling on the arm of a miter saw, is there?

Well, there you have it - the sexy and perhaps not-so-sexy things about me.

Now, who do I bestow this upon?

I believe the deserving blogger is . . . .

Comfortable With Chaos!

Check her out and you'll understand the nomination.

Silver Lining:
1. It's another good day in "Idiot-land". Anytime someone has something nice to say about you, it feels good - even if it comes out a little back-handed (see, that's the optimist speaking).
2. Hubby's making dinner tonight - not that it has anything to do with the award, but hey, it makes me happy :)

Oh, The Irony

I was really in the mood for something salty. Not just in the mood, I was craving something salty. I grabbed a dollar out of my desk drawer and made a bee-line for the break room

Once I got there, I had to make a few decisions.

First off, how much salt did I “need”?

Pretzels or Potato Chips? Both very salty, but chips just sounded better.

There was more than one type of chip. I rolled my eyes and once again had to make a decision.

Baked Lays or Regular? Baked Lays were healthier, the even had the check mark indicating the lower fat grams – ooooo, I bet that influences a lot of people. There are other things in the machine with check marks next to their prices, but I don’t care. I want what I want and no check mark is going to influence me to get to choose animal crackers over mini sandwich cremes.

I really should have been responsible and gotten the baked chips, but my fingers were possessed. They punched in the number for the regular chips completely over-riding my brain. Kind of like men – they often let body parts have more control than their brains.

Go back to my desk or sit in the break room? There were a couple magazines sitting on one of the tables. I thought to myself, “You know what? I don’t take breaks and sometime work at my desk while eating my lunch. I’m going to sit down, read a magazine & enjoy my chips.” There was even a little high-pitched “hmh” and an indignant head nod at the end.

I sat down, opened my chips and savored that first one. I enjoyed reading a couple of short articles before I had to tip the bag and shake the last few crumbs in my mouth – you can’t let a good thing go to waste. I got up to throw away the bag and head back to my desk. I closed the magazine and started to put it back on the stack.

My mouth dropped open as I did this. The name of the magazine:

WEIGHT WATCHERS MAGAZINE

Niiiice, eat your salty, greasy, fat-laden chips while reading a diet magazine. It’s like ordering a diet coke to go with your Big Mac & fries.

Silver Lining:

1. No one was in the break room so they didn’t see me reading the WW Mag while eating those chips.


2. No one was in the break room to see the final crumb fall into my mouth – it’s not very lady like and a little on the unprofessional side.


3. I totally enjoyed those chips!

I’m Feelin’ the Love

I received the Noblesse Oblige award today! Thank you so much 1.000.000 Project!

I still can’t believe my little blog is liked by so many.

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:
1) The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervades amongst different cultures and beliefs.
2) The Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage and offers solutions.
3) There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Culture and Sciences and Beliefs.
4) The Blog is refreshing and creative.
5) The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

Reading these recognition points, I wasn’t so sure I fit the bill – it was the “clear purpose” part that was giving me trouble. But after thinking about it a little more, I realized I did have a purpose. Thank goodness, I didn’t want have to turn down my award!!! I’ve been honored three times this week, but I’ll try not to let it go to my head.

So what is my purpose, you say?

It’s to bring a bit of sunshine into someone’s life everyday. I may not post everyday, but I can see I have visitors on a daily basis :)

Hopefully, I lighten the load for someone who may be going through the same thing. I’m sure my positive outlook on the every day calamities, gives others hope that they can get through a similar experience.

On a personal level, I have an outlet for my creative side. I’m an accountant (you would have never guessed that, would you?) so the right side of my brain gets used a lot.

The left side of my brain was really needing some serious exercise. I could feel the left half atrophy-ing. So much so I started getting a little “Night at the Roxbury” action going on. The weight of my head had shifted to the right, pulling the right side toward my shoulder. Naturally, I felt like I had to pull it back to the left, but never quite got my head to stay upright.

My other purpose is to reach out to my fellow bloggers. Giving you all a reason to read, and getting your comments, validates the goofy crap that happens in my life. Like in my post about my workplace restroom, I had so many comments about everyone else’s pet peeves and experiences, I felt justified in my oddball observations. Sometimes I feel like it’s just me who experiences these things, but it turns out, you guys are just as messed up :)

Not only do many of all your posts boost me up when I’m feeling down, I get ideas on how to deal with my children, my stalkers, my most embarrassing situations, financial issues, etc. Sometimes I even have something to offer up in return.

Keep the comments coming. Your feedback brightens my day a validates my principal purpose – to brighten your day and at least give you a reason to giggle.

The Blogger who receives this award will need to perform the following steps:
1) Create a Post with a mention and link to the person who presented the Noblesse Oblige Award.
2) The Award Conditions must be displayed at the Post.
3) Write a short article about what the Blog has thus far achieved – preferably citing one or more older post to support.
4) The Blogger must present the Noblesse Oblige Award in concurrence with the Award conditions.
5) The Blogger must display the Award at any location at the Blog.

In light of the conditions above, I would now like to present this award to:

http://jennscornertable.blogspot.com/

Silver lining:

1. There are so many talented bloggers out there, it was hard to choose just one.
2. Jenn's strength is unmeasurable in my eyes and should be an inspiration to us all.

Redemption

I normall do not just cut & paste funny stuff, but this was just too good to keep to myself.

Keep in mind, this is not about blondes nor is it about women.

These contractors are installing the steel pillars in concrete to stop vehicles from parking on the pavement outside a Sports Bar downtown. They are now in the process of cleaning up at the end of the day and anxious to go home.

How long do you think it will be before they realize where they parked?

Silver Lining:

1. Girls rule, boys drool! Redemption is ours ladies!

2. The "rescue" is bound to make it to the news and these guys have to explain their dumbass-ness to their wives.

I-Can-Not-Believe-It!

Oh, my goodness!

I've been given the "Kreativ Blogger" award!

Thank you so much Beauty (http://journeywithinyourself.blogspot.com/)!!

I hardly know what to say, but at the risk of sounding like a broken record, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." I just can't believe of all the blogs out there, she choose me.

Now I have the enormous task of choosing someone to pass this one to. I have so many choices . . .

After some consideration, I am passing this award on to (drumroll please):

Steve's Nude Memphis Blog

ta, da!

Nothing is too personal, irreverent, or taboo for him to share. Memphis must be one crazy city!

Yay, Steve!!!

Silver lining:

1. It's another happy night for this idiot!

2. I love sharing!

1/2 Ounce Per Minute

Consumption of a half an ounce per minute does not sound too bad.  I guess it depends on what you’re consuming.  Hotdogs, pie, hamburger, pizza, beer . . .

 

120 minutes, 3 ounces, 20 different beers.  Who’s in?

 

Hubby & I were.  It was time for the annual Pleasantville Beer Tasting Event.  Now, I’m a chic and I can not drink ANYONE under the table.  I’m the one who usually ends up there.

 

But the contest was on.  We had two hours to taste three ounce samples of twenty different beers.  Everyone attending the event had a card with the names & a short description of the beers (we’ll get to that in a moment).  As you got your sample, the server would “X” it out.  Whomever could fill their card with X’s first wins.

 

Unfortunately, I had to forfeit right off the bat.  I had my card and a pen handy at all times (forgot the black notebook at home) and was using my plastic cup to hold it down. 

 

Forget it – the wind just saw that as a challenge to see how fast it could pick up my card; thereby, tipping over my cup.  That happened on my fourth, sixth & seventh cup of beer. 

 

I finally learned my lesson and just held onto the card.  But not until I had spilled all three beers in the direction on my friend, Sugar’s, husband.  He finally got up an moved.  No one would sit across from me from that point on.  I felt like I was at the kids’ table, but there weren’t any other kids.  Are you shedding a tear for me yet?

 

I tried to explain that the wind was just assisting me in not acting like a beer sconge (that’s SCOH-nj, not SPUH-nj).  A beer sconge is one who only receives or takes from someone, but never offers any up.  See, I was just trying to share and be a giver.  Yah, no one else was buying it either.

 

Put the card in my pocket you say?  No way.  I needed it handy to write down the goofy shit.  The more I drank, the more difficult it would be to get the card out of my pocket.  I was liable to rip my pocket and I really like the pants I was wearing.

 

Now, I gotta tell you about some of the beers on the list.

 

Cooper’s Vintage Ale (Australia) – A robust English Ale from the land down under.  Robust indeed.  I’d like to know how it is still considered an English Ale.  Hasn’t Australia been independent from England for a long time.  We do not claim anything we develop is English, we call it American.  Hmmmm, puzzling indeed.

 

Curim Golden Celtic Wheat (Ireland) – An Irish Wheat Beer?  Heck, let’s give it a try.  Maybe I’m biased because I’m Irish, but this one was ok.

 

Weihenstephan Hefe Weiss (Germany) – From probably the oldest  brewery in the world.  Yup, this tasted old!  One table mate described it as tasting, “like it was filtered through my used toilet paper.”  That may have been a little strong, but it really wasn’t good. 

 

By the way, do you really think they needed to put the “Germany” behind the name?  With a name like that, I’m thinking, DUH!

 

Lindeman’s Peche Lambic (Belgium) – If you’ve loved their Raspberry Lambic, then give this peach a try.  Well, I’ve never had the Raspberry, nor was it offered so I’m not sure this was a good way to describe the beer. 

 

Anyway, this beer came in a champagne looking bottle.  I knew right away this was the beer for me (even if I’m not a peach fan).  Will & I had two different opinions on this one. 

 

My opinion was, “The brings new meaning to champagne taste on a beer budget.” 

 

Will’s opinion, “If I were camping with the boys and making bacon & eggs over a fire, this would be the perfect beer for breakfast.”

 

Big Sky Moose Drool (Montana) – This Brown Ale is proclaimed to be the best brewed beer to come out of Montana.  Good grief, I don’t even want to know what the second best is, let alone the worst!  Besides, can you believe “champagne” girl drank Moose Drool?

 

Schlitz (Wisconsin) – Nostalgia galore!  Our dads drank this!  No kidding, does this take you back?  My dad used to keep beer in the basement fridge (his preference was PBR, though), but I don’t think he ever saw the inside of it.  It was the job of us kids to fill it up when a new case came home, fetch a beer when asked, and take inventory on a regular basis so Mom knew when to get another case.  Honestly, this beer was better than most on the list.

 

That’s just the top six, the other fourteen are nothing to write home about.

 

We had a really good time and can’t wait until next year.

 

Silver lining:

1. We finished our cards with five minutes to spare.
2. We rode our bikes so we didn’t have to drive home.  I didn’t even fall down!

It’s A Major Award!

Oh, my gosh!

I totally know how the dad in A Christmas Story felt when he received the huge crate labeled “FRA-GI-LE”!

I just got notification that I have won Neno’s Award!

Thank you to MzzLily for passing it on to me. I’m honored to know that I inject just a smidge of humor into your life.

This award is:

1. A dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging
2. To seek reasons why we all love blogging.

I LOVE writing my blog. I could stop there because I really just love doing it, but I guess my acceptance speech needs to have a little more meat so I’ll continue.

I really like to tell stories and gracious listeners have often said I should write this stuff down. I’ve always blown them off because, who would want to read my stories – I’m a great story teller, but never thought of myself as a writer. Finally, one day, to shut them all up, I started my blog.

At first, I sent the first few lines to family & friends with a link to my blog for the rest of the story. Imagine my surprise when I had people ask to be added to the e-mail distribution. Okay, maybe I had something here.

Then, instead of hearing, “You should write this stuff down,” I started hearing, “I don’t know where you find the time.” This is from the same people who encouraged me to write!

To answer the “time” question – this stuff writes itself. We’re all just a bunch of silly people doing silly things. I’m just a witness who can spin ho-hum into ho-ho-hee-hee-haa-haa.

My next attempt at getting attention was in adding the “Followers” gadget. For all I knew, my family & friends were just being nice. Wouldn’t you know it, people wanted to read my stories – like regularly. Cool!

Now, I have this award! You like me! You really, really like me!

Aims of this award:

1. As a dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging.
2. To seek the reasons why we all love blogging.
3. Put the award in one post as soon as you receive it.
4. Don’t forget to mention the person who gave you the award.
5. Answer the reward’s question by writing the reason why you love blogging.
6. Tag and distribute the award to as many people as you like.

Since I received the award, I am grateful for the recognition of my dedication – that covers #1.

For #2, I got some reasons in reading MzzLily’s acceptance speech and hope to see some more from those receiving the award from me (see #6).

This is the post so I’ve got #3.

As for #4, I mentioned her above, but she’s worth mentioning again – thank you again MzzLily for presenting me with Neno’s Award!

I’ve covered #5 above the “Aims.”

Now, for #6. I’d like to recognize the following:

http://darkstormyloopy.blogspot.com/

http://ididntgetthemessage.blogspot.com/

http://pwnstaraction.blogspot.com/

http://www.outnumberedonline.com/

Silver lining:

1. I’m going to be happy tonight!
2. I’m just so honored (I always roll my eyes during award shows, but now I know it’s true)!

Kindergarten

At some point in your child’s life, you have to let go. For many of us, the first big step is when your child enters kindergarten.

Now, I’m not going to kid you. I’m going to go home and bawl like a baby after my baby gets on the school bus that first day – heck, I’m tearing up right now thinking about it. But I know I have to do it and I’m proud to say, so far Hubby & I have raised an independent, confident daughter.

What I don’t get are these parents who just don’t seem to get the fact that they are going to have to let go and at five, their child is ready to shed the parental coddling.

We went to a “Kindergarten Readiness” meeting last night. I have got to say, I don’t want to hang out with some of these parents. I'm referring to the type who:

• Run to their kids every time they play on the playground
• Volunteer to be a parent assistant at every activity their child is participating in (just to be sure Johnny is getting superior attention and to be there for peace of mind)
• Helps to the point of taking over when ever their child is trying something new

I'm for parental involvement in their child's school and taking active interest in how their child is doing. But there is a fine line between smoothering and parental supervision. As a parent, you need to be acutely aware of this otherwise your child will run amok (as with no parental supervision) or be a meek person dependent on others for decision making - just my opinion.

The generalizations above are based on some of the questions asked last night.

There was a question about emergencies.

“What is your course of action when a child gets hurt of there is an emergency?”

The duh answer was, “We take your child to the nurse or if necessary, the nurse comes to us. In a major emergency 911 would be called. Depending on the severity, you will be contacted accordingly; either through a note home or a phone call.”

What did this parent think the teachers were going to say?

“Well, first we run around like chickens with our heads cut off. Then, we look at each other with blank stares while your child is bleeding profusely. Finally, we pray to God that an ambulance shows up – He usually listens. Next question?”

The teachers’ Power Point presentation included a typical daily schedule. Very clearly, it had a lunch time stated of 25 or 30 minutes.

“How much time do the kids get for lunch?”

Hello, can you not read? The teacher at the microphone pointed out the lunch time stated on the schedule. Whew, at least she encourages people (not just her students) to empower themselves and pay attention to information that has already been presented.

“I don’t see a time for nap. Will the children get a nap?”

Again, HELLO, can you not read? The schedule is up there and no nap is shown. You even observed that there was no nap time! What do you think?

Finally, the point of a parent not being able to let go.

The teachers assured us that they meet the kids at the bus each morning, walk the kids to the classroom, walk the kids to and from lunch and walk them to the bus at the end of the day. This makes sense because they are either outside where traffic could hurt them or it’s a long enough distance for a five year-old to get distracted.

However, there was a concern about bathroom breaks.

“What about the bathroom? Do they all go at the same time or does someone accompany them?”

Let go people! I have never been to a school where the bathroom requires a trip down the hall, up the stairs, through the boxwood hedge maze, and finally across the rickety bridge where the troll lives below.

Especially in an elementary school, bathrooms are not that far away from the classroom. I’m sure Cupie has ADD, but I still trust she can make the trip to the bathroom & back all by herself. Gee whiz, I even let her go to the bathroom by herself when we’re at the park.

Besides, a specific bathroom break was not on the schedule presented earlier. If everyone went to the bathroom at the same time, it would definitely require a designated time.

At one point during all this question and answer period, which seemed to take longer than the presentation itself, my friend Mary leaned over and said, “Have these people never been to school?”

That’s a scary question.

Silver lining:

1. Cupie has an awesome daycare teacher. From the day one, the teacher treated them as though they were in kindergarten as far as raising their hands, waiting their turn, sitting quietly, expecting them to at least try everything put before them, and persevere when they have the skills, but something seems like an overwhelming task.


2. Cupie is prepared for kindergarten. As far as the technical/intellectual skills required, she’ll meet or exceed expectations.


3. Cupie is ready for a new challenge. She seems to excel when a surge when of new stuff to learn is put in front of her.


4. On a selfish note, my daycare bill goes down & I finally get some payback on the portion of my property taxes that have been allocated to the school system.

You Say Tomayto, I Say Tomahto

We use some terms interchangibly in our household.

Cup, Glass

Cupboard, Counter

TV, Television

PB&J, Peanutbutter & Jelly

It's the last one that's confused my three-year-old.

On the way home from the farm Saturday, we were discussing lunch. Cupie said she wanted peanutbutter & jelly for lunch. Sounded agreeable to me, but I had to check with Stinkles. The child would eat chicken nuggets for every meal if I let her. If I didn't check, I could be in store for a royal tantrum.

My question to Stinkles was, "Stinkles, do you want peanutbutter & jelly for lunch?"

By the grace of God, she agreed.

Okay, so I get out the bread, jelly, peanutbutter & two identical plates (can't have different designs or that sets off an entire different tantrum - you have to pick your battles).

After making two identical sandwiches, I set one in front of Stinkles and said, "Here's your PB&J."

Tears formed and she said, "But I don't like PB&J, I want peanutbutter & jelly."

So I gave her the other plate (identical to the first) and said, "Sorry, Honey. Here's your peanutbutter & jelly."

She ate it without question.

What the hell? She saw me make the same sandwich!!! How can she like one, but not the other?

For the first time, I understand what my husband means about not understanding a woman's mind.

Whatever!

Silver Lining:
1. As long as we refer to the sandwich given to Stinkles as peanutbutter & jelly and the sandwich given to Cupie as PB&J, we don't get any tantrums.
2. The child will eat something other than chicken nuggets - which is good because we're out.

The Restroom Evolution

That’s right, there has been an evolution of sorts going on with the restrooms here at the office. It’s been pretty slow, like over the last year or so. The other day, the newest characteristic was the icing on the cake and I can’t keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

The first, was the addition of one of those paper towel dispensers that you wave your hand in front of and an allotment of paper whirs out. I can’t figure out why this one is necessary.

It can’t be sanitary issues as there was already a paper towel dispenser that has those individual z-fold papers in it. They didn’t take it out. Besides, the new dispenser has a sensor that is so insensitive, you practically have to touch it to get it to spit out a paper towel. Now, how can that be more sanitary than the original 1970’s version. Actually, why does even matter how you get the paper towels out of a dispenser? The people touching it, just washed their hands, right??

Also, the new, automatic dispenser is so high on the wall, you have to reach up to wave at the sensor. This causes water to run down your arm and in your sleeves.

Around the same time, sanitary gel dispensers were added just outside the restrooms. Didn’t you just wash your hands???

The next round in the evolution was the addition of signage to the outside of the doors.

For Privacy Reasons,
Please Refrain from Using
Phones in the Restroom

Really??? Is there anyone who doesn’t know that everyone outside the restroom can hear every noise in the restroom?? That includes that fart you went to the restroom to “discretely” let go.

I work in an office of professionals and access is restricted to employees, contractors & temporary workers. How immature to they think we are? I honestly don’t think anyone here is going to go into the restroom with their cell phones with the intention of taking pictures over the stalls. Even if there are creepy contractors, I don’t see women contractors doing this. The restroom doesn’t have a gender check so the mere presence of a male in the woman’s restroom would cause enough ruckus – with or without a phone.

The newest restroom characteristic comes in the form of a SHARPS box. Any they advocating shooting up at work? I suppose this is to ensure you’re being safe with your needles. You wouldn’t want someone else gets a disease by sticking themselves with a used needle when they reach waaaaaay down in the trashcan.

While were on the subject of restrooms, can I jump off my topic for a moment (not that you can do anything about it, but I thought I’d be nice and ask)?

Isn’t there an unwritten rule about using the stall next to someone? Unless it is absolutely necessary, aren’t you supposed to have an empty stall between two users?

For example, if there are three stalls and they are all empty, you should choose the one of the end stalls. That way there the other end stall is available for another person; thus, leaving an empty stall in between. I can see your heads nodding – I knew I was right on this one!

Why, when I’m in a five staller (all empty upon entering) and I’m in the middle one, would some one choose the stall right next to me??? I clearly followed the rules and left at least two available, more desirable stalls – what gives??

Anyway, back to the original topic for the silver lining.

Silver Lining:
1. Obviously, work safety is a positive priority. I’m glad I work for a company that promotes this and takes it seriously.
2. I don’t have to worry about someone in Hong Kong hearing me pee via cell phone.
3. I don’t have to worry about someone taking my picture while in a compromised position.
4. I’m not going to get any germs from the paper towel dispensers (unless someone at the paper towel factory sneezed on them during the rolling process).
5. In the highly unlikely even I get hooked on drugs so I can fry my brains like eggs, I know I can safely dispose of my needles at work.


PS – Before you get all up in arms, I’m sure the SHARPS box is there for a legitimate medical reason. But that’s not something that makes me laugh . . .

I'm Such a Dork

So I went to get coffee and catch up on the daily gossip. I was away from my desk for at least 15 minutes & wouldn't you know it, I came back to that obnoxious blinking light signaling I had a message.

First off, hardly anyone leaves me a message on my phone. If someone wants information from me, it usually comes in the form of an e-mail.

Secondly, I couldn't find a pad of paper.

I had difficulty finding a pad of paper, not because my desk was a mess. No, it was because I actually filed papers and cleaned most of my desk off yesterday. I was looking under the few folders & papers that were left and could find my blasted post-it pad. I finally looked in my desk drawer. Duh, I had actually put them all away in the cleaning process.

I'm ready for a really important message, but it was the hubby (didn't even need the post-it pad). He does have a tendency to say "um" a lot so there were several pauses in the message.

As soon as I heard his voice, I completely forgot that I had just logged in to the voice mail system. As he paused, I was saying, "Uh-huh, uh-huh" like he was actually on the phone. I even said "I love you" at the end. It wasn't until he didn't say it back I remembered that it was only a voice mail message.

I'm such a dork!!!

Silver Lining:
1. I'm going to say that this happened because I hadn't drank all my coffee yet, let alone given the caffeine any time to absorb.
2. You guys are the only ones who know how dork-ish I am.

The Plan

Men think women put way too much thought into a gathering of any sort. Well, I have news for the guys – you’re no better.

“The guys” go out on the same night every week and it is almost always at the same place at the same time. This was one of these ordinary nights, but apparently some thought had to be put into it.

So here it is.

S (the defacto leader): I might be a bit late .. I have to do some work..Here is the project plan I put together.. (insert the sound of crickets chirping. Typical guy – there is no plan) Oh, and re-installing irix was as simple as constructing an atomic bomb in your garden shed, from 2 paperclips, some wood glue, and a dead panda, whilst your arms are tied behind your back.


J: Sounds like a good plan to me….

C: I plan on being there…….oh, and you may want to check, but I think there is a New Town ordinance requiring express written permission for building an atomic bomb in your garden shed. I heard that permit is slightly easier to get than a permit for the garden shed itself.

J: Also remember you are not permitted to keep live pandas on your property, so any of the aforementioned pandas must be killed offsite…

D: My project plan is to drink as much as R.

S: I will bring the helmet then. Apparently, D is a light-weight and has fallen off the stool after having just a few beers. I am running the things that I am supposed to be doing during the maintenance window now so I should be on time.

Does this mean he was multi-tasking or simply (actually) doing his job?

D: Is R going to be there?

S: So far R has not committed.

D: If he doesn't come that screws up my project plan.

R: Sorry, T (the wife) screwed up my plans tonight. And noooo it's nothing sexual related.

As far as he knows, it wasn’t sexual related. Maybe T had him committed. You know, being restrained in a white coat is erotic for some people.

The message from R came in after guys night had already commenced so S brought the helmet for nothing. Leave it to a man to screw up the plan.

By the way, the helmet had Care Bears on it – sounds masculine, doesn’t it? I’m sure they made D wear it regardless of R’s presence – like I said, he’s a light weight. It’s better to safe than sorry.

Silver Lining:

1. My husband, in this case, is not R. I suppose that is somewhat obvious since I would not be “T”.


2. My husband, got a new drink recipe, which I’ve dubbed the “Shirley Tumble”, as in drink a few of these, and you will surely tumble to the ground. 3 Olives vodka (cherry flavor) and sprite – ala Shirley Temple with a kick!


3. Congratulations to J – you’ve accomplished your goal this week – your family made the blog! Your wife will be so proud!

Picture of Oscar has been posted!

And the Oscar Goes to . . .

I have a head full of useless knowledge and fortunately, I have an outlet to relieve the pressure – TRIVIA NIGHT!

After removing the motor from the Christmas tree stand and mounting our homemade Oscar, we deemed ourselves ready for the “Let’s Go to the Movies” theme at Saturday’s trivia night.

Since our table theme was “The Oscars”, we decided to act as though we knew the answers to all the questions regardless of whether or not we actually had the right answer. Turns out, we would have to use our acting skills so often we should have won an Oscar.





Being the “Actors/Actresses” that we were, we should have known everything about the movies, right? We couldn’t be more wrong. In the “Oscar” category, we got a mere seven out of ten correct answers and the majority of the questions were about the 2009 Oscars! Oh, and we had to use a “mulligan” in order to get our score that high. Being the professionals we were, we played it off with fake smiles and golf clapping.

Our next, ‘we’re so awesome, we’re going to fall flat on our faces moment’, came at “Scavenger Hunt” time. This is the game where the MC goes through a list of items and as long as you have the items on your person, you are still in the game.

I was TOTALLY prepared for this. I had brought my pretty evening bag for walking the red carpet, but then I had another purse packed full of crap. This purse was reserved specifically for trivia nights, specifically for this game. I had everything in there:

ATM Receipt, Drycleaners Receipt, Sporting Event Ticket Stub, Pencil, Pen,Eyeglass Case, Teabag (unused), Tape, Metrolink Ticket, Daycare Receipt, $2 Bill, Raffle, Ticket Stubs, Breath Mints, Appointment Card, Cough Medicine, Emory Board, USB Cable, Screwdriver, Whistle, A Piece of Ribbon, A Length of String, Permanent Marker, Highlighter, Toothpaste, Business Card, Movie Ticket Stub, Mustard, Ketchup, Salt, Pepper, Penny, Nickel, Dime, Quarter, Gold Dollar, Deck of Cards, Coupon, Stamps, Lighter, Moist Towelette, Artificial Sweetner, Facial Tissue, Straw, Hand Sanitizer, Dental Floss, Flash Drive, Clothes Pin, Nail Polish, Lip Balm, Band-aide, Cough Drop, Wooden Match, Hair Clip, Tweezers, Candle, Screw, Flashlight, Rubberband, Toothpick, Playing Die, Battery, Hard Candy, Binder Clip, Paper Clip, Nail Clippers, Bobbie Pin, Button, Chuck E Cheese Token, and a Safety Pin.

And I was derailed on Scavenger Hunt item number three – A STICK OF GUM! As we were reviewing the contents of the crap purse prior to leaving, we found a piece of gum that was deteriorating. We threw it in the trash, but forgot to add a new piece to the mix.

In an effort to prevent other tables from benefiting from our brilliance, I brought post-it notes so we could write answers down & pass them around instead of trying to mouth them across the table. It’s a round table and beer was free so the telephone game from one side to the other was not going to yield a positive outcome. From past experience, trying to read lips when there were four of them moving was also a problem as the night wore on.

The post-its were working really well. They were getting needed information over to the secretary (aka answer writer person). See an example below:



Then, we got to a category where we could just throw in the towel (plus a mulligan). This was the “Manly, Yes” category. I don’t know who named the category as I really don’t get the title, but it was about movies guys should know about. Our’s didn’t know much.

One of the questions was “Name the fighter portrayed by Robert DeNiro in the moving Raging Bull.”

A serious comment was uttered, “It’s gotta be a white guy, right?” Well, I don’t know. Is Robert DeNiro white???

We had no use for the post-its in that round so we used them for other things.



At one point we had to unplug Oscar. We were fortunate enough to have a table right near a floor outlet, but it was also right in the middle of the walk-way to the beer stand. While the cord was taped down, people kept knocking the plug out of the outlet. During a more coherent time, we decided everyone’s safety as well as the protection of the cord itself, we should unplug Oscar.

During a less coherent time, I wanted him to light up and turn again. Being the darling husband he is, Hubby yanked up the cord and ran it over to a wall outlet. Mind you, it still ran across a walk way. When a tablemate pointed out someone could trip on the cord, Hubby’s response was, “What? There’s still slack in the line.”

A category, we ladies rocked at was about chick-flicks. Post-it notes were back in the swing and they were a flyin’. To this question, I had a post-it note thrust at me with such authority, I had to go with the written answer.

The question: “In the movie Sophie’s Choice, Sophie had to decide which of her children got to live. Did she choose her son or her daughter?”

The answer: “Her son.”

The Post-It: “Her daughter.” Wah, wah, wahhhhhh.

Before the last round they did announce the winning table. It was us!!! We got out our real smiles, high fived each other and did quite a few “Whoo-who” noises – all out obnoxious and very un-oscarly. My sister won for best costume (she’s the one in her wedding dress).

Since we knew we won for best table and had no chance of winning the night, we really let it all hang out for the last round.

And I received one last post-it.


Silver Lining:

1. I honestly believe our table will be remembered for a long time – best table theme, best dressed, most beers consumed from champagne flutes, most obnoxious . . .

2. Hubby and I have a winning streak going now. We won for best table theme last year too. The pressure – I don’t know if I can handle it (maybe this isn’t a good thing).

I'd Like to Take a Moment . . .

. . . to thank all my visitors, followers & subscribers for being my readers.

I was just looking at where all my readers are coming from and I’m up to half of the United States. UPDATE 5/11/09 - ONLY 12 STATES TO GO!!!!!!

I’ve decided to make it a goal to have readers from all the United States. I’ll go for the countries & territories later – I’ve got seven of those so far!

Check out my list. BOLD are the states I’ve had readers. Red are the states I’m trying to “collect”.

Alabama
Alaska
Arizona
Arkansas
California
Colorado
Connecticut
Delaware
Florida
Georgia
Hawaii
Idaho
Illinois
Indiana
Iowa
Kansas
Kentucky
Louisiana
Maine
Maryland
Massachusetts
Michigan
Minnesota
Mississippi
Missouri
Montana
Nebraska
Nevada
New Hampshire
New Jersey
New Mexico
New York
North Carolina
North Dakota
Ohio
Oklahoma
Oregon
Pennsylvania
Rhode Island
South Carolina
South Dakota
Tennessee
Texas
Utah
Vermont
Virginia
Washington
West Virginia
Wisconsin
Wyoming



If you know people in the red states that need a dose of humor two or three times a week, shot over my blog URL.

Hey, one more thing. I love comments – even if it’s just a “Hee, Hee”. I’d also like to know if you have a goofy life like mine – tell me your stories!!!

If you’re a reader from a red state, let me know – I’m an immediate gratification kind of gal. My funny stories are all in the archives in the side bar, but some of my favorites are:

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2008/10/b-101-have-escape-route.html (this is my all time favorite!)

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-goin-for-grass.html

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-faught-lawn-lawn-won.html

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/01/rhymes-with-sit-fit-zit.html

http://lifemakesmelaugh.blogspot.com/2009/02/taste-that-creates-smiling-eyes.html


Silverlining:

1. I have readers & followers!


2. I got more involved in the blog world and discovered more of the interesting people out there – makes life a little more fun

Rotate This. . .

We’re going to a trivia event this weekend and the theme is “Let’s Go to the Movies.” Instead of going with a specific movie, we’re doing the Oscars.

Hubby wants to make a huge Oscar (cut out of luan) and put it on our rotating Christmas tree stand so it spins around. The problem? Our Christmas tree stand no longer rotates.

After picking his way through the Goodwill donation section, the luggage section, & the Sunday school supplies section, he finally arrived at the Christmas section of our basement. Fortunately, the stand was near the front of the Christmas pile so he was able to haul it out easily.

I had recently unpacked some boxes (we moved into our house a year and half ago & I still have boxes!) and found not one, but two cans of WD-40. Just in time, because Rob decided that was what the Christmas tree stand needed to get it rotating again.

Spray, spray, spray.

Plug in.

Turn on.

Motor running – no spinning.

Well, it must be hung up on something on the inside. There was a screw on the bottom, which he took out, but we still couldn’t get the “guts” cover off in order to inspect the “guts”.

We needed the mini pry bar!

To the basement, yet again. We looked over by the furnace, in the stack of unpacked boxes of workshop gizmos, and the top of the table saw (obviously gets a lot of use based on the amount of stuff on top of it – NOT).

No mini pry bar.

I finally looked in the tool chest. Low and behold, it was there. Who would have thunk it?

For some reason, prying off the bottom of the tree stand became my job. He sat on the couch and watched me.

I could get the pry bar between the top & bottom covers, but I could get it off. I needed more leverage. To the basement for the “Superbar”. I had seen this in the earlier search, so I knew exactly where it was.

So I’m jamming the crowbar under the lip of the bottom cover & pushing as hard as I can. Hubby got up off his butt and tried standing on one side of it to give me a little more leverage. Still no go on frickin’ that cover.

Now, he decided to point out that from the other side, looking down in the hole where the tree stump goes, you can see there is a machine screw in there. Not the head, but the bottom.

I figure, hey, the whole thing is plastic, I should be able to pound something down in there and strip it out. Guess what? I went to the basement again.

I came back with a HUGE long screw. I start banging around with my 2 oz hammer and that bolt isn’t moving. Once again, Hubby, my knight in shining armor, steps in to help. First, he sent me to the basement to “find a real hammer”, meaning the Craftsman heavy ass one.

He’s banging away and suddenly, leaps back with a “YOW! Son of a Bitch!” He had totally hammered full force on this thumb. He was in the kind of pain that travels up your arm so you can’t move it and you have difficulty breathing. This wasn’t funny – he was in serious pain.

After playing nursemaid for a bit, I started studying that stupid tree stand again. Hmmmm, there is a smaller cover embedded on the big bottom cover.

I started whacking away at that. ZING! The little cover went flying across the room. I’m lucky I didn’t shoot someone’s eye out.

WHAAAAAAAAAAH! The head of the screw!!!

Take that screw out and the whole thing opens like magic!

I took it apart very carefully. Not carefully enough because I knocked out the balls in the ball bearing ring. These were nasty. There was black goo all over them, but I put them back in, & lubricated all the moving parts.

Hubby had enough forethought to test the motor before putting it back together. We plugged it in, turned it on & voila – the motor ran smoothly.

I put that sucker back together – no less than a bazillion parts – and tried it out again. The damn thing wouldn’t turn!

We decided, the motor must not have enough power anymore to turn the weight of the tree stand, but Rob figures he can still use the motor and rig up a way to put the “Oscar” on top.

We’ll just see how this turns out.

Silver lining:

1. Good thing we tested this last night instead of waiting until Saturday.


2. The ball bearing goo stain on the carpet seems to have come out.


3. I’m getting a new Christmas tree stand so I’ll be back to “Lazy Ass” decorator by letting the tree rotate while putting on the gold beads & ornaments. God forbid, I have to walk around the tree a hundred times.

My Husband, the Philospher

In the shower, some people sing, some people pray, some people just get it done.

But my husband, well, he thinks random thoughts. And he has the “courtesy” to share them with me.

I’m so proud to be married to a man with such a brilliant mind – he is a member of MENSA after all.

Philosophers have pondered, debated & written theories on everything imaginable. However, my husband has given me and everyone reading this blog something to think about.

A recent sample of his random thoughts:

In a backward world, what if air was replaced by water?

Would toilets be filled with air?

Would fish breathe air while we breathed water?

Sounds to me, like he’s ready for summer and swimming. Or a vacation that involves SCUBA diving.

Now, for the scary (not so proud) revelation:

In a bizarro (as if the air/water thing weren’t bizarre enough) world, what if the human body worked backward?

Would we suck crap up our butt instead of it coming out?

Would it make its way up through the body so our mouths expel food?

Where would our teeth be located, in our butt?

These are the things he thinks about in the shower. How the hell did he get admitted into MENSA? Perhaps he should be admitted to a mental institute.

They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa
To the funny farm. Where life is beautiful all the time . . .


Silver lining:

• I’m having a tough time with this one. I suppose there are worse things he could be doing in the shower, like singing.

EN-E-MA

First off, I have to tell you how utterly disappointed I was on my way to Bible study tonight. There is a house under construction that I’ve wanted to get into, but those construction guys got smarter about how they are locking up the houses (click here to read about my B&E adventure). Now I need an actual tool to get in and I keep forgetting to look for one.

Anyway, one of the doors was wide open, but I was running late. I was carrying my coffee cake AND my dinner plate filled with pizza rolls to Bible study – that’s how late I was. So I couldn’t go and properly explore beforehand, and by the time Bible study was over, it was dark. Shaz-bah, better luck next time.

I was not disappointed in our Bible study though. Back when I was a kid, my parents really didn’t talk very frankly to me about the body. This seemed to be the case with most of the other ladies in the group. I said most . . .

Do you remember when you first learned what an enema was? I know it’s a common question and I’m sure you have a story at the ready. Please share it by leaving a comment below.

I really couldn’t tell you about the first time I figured out what it was. I can tell you the first time I had to give someone an enema. My niece was constipated & I had some of those baby enemas. My sister actually administered it. Normally, it takes a little bit for them to go to work and you have a chance to get a diaper on. Not my niece – it was soooooo disgusting. I don’t know how that much poop accumulates in a baby. It was kind of like when you squeeze the play-doh through the snake maker. Yuck!

One of my friends in Bible study remembers her first time quite clearly, and the story demonstrates a dramatic difference in 80’s parenting styles.

As a youngster, my friend, we’ll call her “P”, and her friend “Q” heard the word “enema”, but neither of them knew what it meant. They started tittering about it and finally decided they would each ask their moms, then get back together and compare notes.

This story exemplifies the “lost enema generation.” They had to go to their parents and actually ASK!

Back in the really olden days (40’s & 50’s), everyone over the age of four knew what an enema was. That was a time when mothers were obsessed with your poop. If you didn’t poop for even one day, you got an enema. It was part of the evening bedtime check list:

• Jammies on?
• Brush your teeth?
• Go potty?
• Did you poop today?

If the answer was no, you had go to the clinic (they had special clinics for this) first thing in the morning. Mothers would fret about your lack of poop all evening and into the night. Fathers, on the other hand, saw the clinics for what they were – a profitable business.

“So Bill, what do you do for a living?”

“Well, Bob, I’m an enema administrator.”

“Wow! Now, that’s job security – don’t see you hitting the bread line anytime soon. Every time I drive by, those places are packed. And I don’t mean just the number of people!”

Today, kids would just Google it. Then they would text the definition to all their friends. Phones would be a buzzin’ all over the playground. “OMG! NMA is so NAGI!”

But, as I said, P & Q had to ask their parents a question – OMG, the horror!

Q got the prim and proper answer:

“Well, I asked my mom. She looked a little shocked, and then she smiled and giggled. My dad told her to go ahead and tell me. So she said, ‘Honey (giggle, giggle), let’s sit down a moment. An enema (more giggling and somewhat uncomfortable smirking) is when they insert a tube into your anus and use water to gently flush out any compacted fecal matter.’ What did your mom say?”

P got the straight up version:

“It’s where they squirt water up your ass so you shit.”

After the roar of laughter died down, somehow our fearless leader was able to pull our study group back to God’s word (she's really good at it). The key verse related to our entire study last night was 1 Corinthians 6:19:

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?"

Maybe we all need to keep this verse in mind and get ourselves a mental enema – flush all the shit out so you can take care of the body you have been given & strengthen your relationship with God.



Silver lining:

1. God and enemas – who knew?


2. Things don’t change that much from generation to generation. Moms still obsess over poop; we just don’t go to the same extremes.

SOLD! Well, sort of . . .

Back in 2005, a friend gave us a 10% off coupon for Home Depot. We had just refinanced the house & taken out equity so we decided to buy ALL the wood to build both an 11’X12’ shed and a 16’X32’ deck. This is enough wood to fill a 2 car garage.

It was August, right in the middle of the dog days of summer. Outside projects would have to wait. So the wood sat in the garage.

Fall came and Hubby had to dig out an area to pour a concrete pad for the shed. This involved digging holes for cement pillars and an “apron” to support the cement pad. By November the pad was finally poured and approved by the city.

Now it was getting too cold for outside projects. The wood continued to sit in the garage.

Spring (2006) came, but there was a lot of rain so outside projects would have to wait. Wood was still in the garage.

Eventually, we pulled 2X4’s out of the garage and started putting up walls!! By the time fall rolled around, we had all four walls up and the attic subfloor laid down. Now it was time for the roof trusses – hmmmm, we’ll have to read up on how to do that.

Around the same time, we fell in love with Pleasantville and signed a contract to build a new house. At this point, the house had a garage full of wood and a skeleton of a shed in the back yard. We also looked around the house and realized there was a lot to be done before we could compete with other houses that were for sale.

We got to work, but it is slow and tedious when you have two kids who are almost three and one. In fact, the progress was so slow, I had to call my dad. He lives in Wisconsin and gave up his vacation to Niagara Falls to make the trip down and finish the shed and get the deck started. Between my father-in-law and my dad, the framing of the deck was done before my dad had to head back to Wisconsin – GOD BLESS THEM!!!

Then, Hubby broke his hand! The city inspector wanted a couple more piers poured under the deck. Rob was using a drill and auger bit to break up the dirt when he hit a rock. I had to get out there and finish the piers with my father-in-law's help. Yah, I’m a concrete pourin’, manual labor type, NOT!


Somehow, after the deck was completed, we still had a ton of wood left in the garage. Ken, Roxie, Hubby & I loaded up a couple of pick-up trucks (TWO trucks worth of wood!) and hauled it all back to Home Depot. There was so much involved a manager had to get involved. I had no receipts since I had bought the wood almost two years earlier. I was so embarrassed. Thank goodness Roxie was there with me - it’s always better to be embarrassed with a friend. At least the wood in the garage was gone.

Anyway, with all the work to get the house up to snuff, we didn’t get it on the market until June of 2007. By then, the market had started to get a little weak so we decided to sell it by owner in order to avoid the 6% realtor fees. I swear the day we put it on the market, the bottom dropped out of the real estate biz.

Despite several drops in price, we were unable to sell before our closing date (September 2007).

We were fortunate to find renters right away so we didn’t have two house payments. They moved out at the end of April and, again, by the grace of God, we got new renters without any time lapse.

These guys were so interested in the house, they put down new mulch, planted some bushes, painted the inside of the garage (where there was drywall), and laid tile in the master bathroom. We thought for sure they would buy it when their lease was up.

Unfortunately, being in the military, they received notice of probable deployment somewhere. Not a good time to be buying a house.

Here we go again.

With the help of a friend, we decided to sell the house via Lease to Own. I was very skeptical that anyone would buy the house at our asking price, even with seller financing. But we got a call the day after we advertised it (which was just this past Sunday).

Heaven and her husband came to look at it on Monday and signed a lease with option to purchase on Tuesday. Now, they either have to buy the house (at our current price) at the end of their lease or they lose their deposits, which are pretty substantial, and the house. So as long as they fulfill their end of the bargain, the house is sold. What a relief!

I have no doubt, God sent me Heaven.

I guess this isn’t a “Laugh” story, just an “I feel good” story that I had to share.


Silver lining:

1. The responsibility of maintaining two houses is gone.
2. We will actually make a small profit on the house; after bracing ourselves for taking a loss.
3. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I slept like a rock last night.
4. Through blood, sweat, and a lot of tears, the saga is almost over & I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.
5. Despite four years of calamity, we’re still happily married.

Were You Born In A Barn?

I’m sure spring is just around the corner. It was almost 80 on St. Patty’s day, cooler today, but the weekend looks great! Tulips are starting to come up. The air is fresh & crisp. I have to say “Sorry,” to my Northern friends – your snow may not melt for another three months & I’ll be enjoying the return of my summer color.

The problem with this time of year is exterior doors tend to stay open, especially when you’re just running in & out for “a second.” We have a double standard in our house. Hubby and I can leave the door open, but when the kids do it, that common expression is heard, “What were ya, born in a barn, aye?”

I’ve never heard any one say, “Yah. What’s it to ya?” Fortunately, neither one of my kids can say yes. Although, in anticipation of this expression being uttered, we should have had a cardboard cut-out of a barn over my belly during the birth. That would have been pretty funny – pretty fricken’ weird too.

I could go into a full blown description of the scene, but I’ll let you use your imagination. Tell me about in the comments below.

Anyway, on such a leaving-the-door-open occasion, we ended up with a visitor. As we were all leaving for the day (7:30AM), my oldest daughter had to run back inside because she forgot to feed our bird, George. Hubby went with her; therefore, the adult-leaving-the-door-open-is-ok clause was in affect.

I was busy buckling my youngest daughter into her car seat & my back was to the front door. Hubby & Cupie were at the back of the house feeding the bird. That’s why none of us saw the sparrow fly into the house through the open front door.

To make it worse, no one found out about the sparrow until 11PM that night!

Cupie has a tendency to cry as she’s running to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Hubby & I were still downstairs watching TV so I ran up to make sure she made it and calm her down. I sat on the edge of the tub and stroked her hair & wiped away the tears. When Cupie got off the toilet, in the faint glow of the nightlight, I noticed something BIG in the toilet.

I thought, “For cryin’ out loud. What did Stinkles put in the toilet now?” Good thing I was right there. We have those crappy builder grade toilets that stop up if you don’t flush between pooping & dropping the toilet paper in. I can only imagine the mess this “thing” would have caused.

I had to turn on the light so I could see what I was dealing with. When I did, I yelled down to Hubby, “Hubby, get up here!”

Hubby’s first thought was, “How big a turd could it be? Ooo, maybe it’s psychedelic in color!” Understand, he knew nothing of the bird (bird/turd – that rhymes, hee, hee – gee I’m mature, aren’t I?) so he thought if there was something to see in the toilet, it had to be a GIGANTIC poop or be rainbow swirled with neon colors. Dude, unless you’ve been tripping on magic shrooms, neon swirl should not be the first thing popping into your head.

So that I didn’t freak Cupie out anymore than I already did, I sent her to bed quickly.

Hubby arrived to see the amazing poop. Boy, was he disappointed.

We both stood over the toilet looking down. I don’t know what we were thinking – that the bird would just wake up after being peed on and fly out??? What a mess that would have been. I’m picturing the same effect as a dog getting out of a lake and “shakin’ it out” – water goes everywhere & reaks, right? Bird, pee bath, wings a flappin’ – EEEEWWWWWWW!

How the heck were we going to get it out of the toilet & what were we going to do with it???

I wasn’t sticking my hands in the toilet. They don’t make rubber gloves thick enough to entice me to pick up a pee-soaked, dead bird.

After searching the kitchen, I came up with a pair of barbeque tongs & five Wal-Mart bags.

Up in the bathroom, I handed the tongs to Hubby and held open the five-ply Wal-Mart bag.

“What am I supposed to do with this!?!?”

“Use the tongs to get the bird out & put it in here.” I thrust the bag at him. Like, duh!

He looked in the toilet and slowly reached his hand forward. Then, he quickly pulled back. Slowly reach forward, pull back quickly, slowly reach forward . . .

This went on for a bit before I asked him, “WHAT are you doing?”

“I just can’t do it!”

I grabbed the tongs & gave him the Wal-Mart bag. I dove in, got the bird, put it in the bag, left the tongs in the bag, snatched the bag back & took the whole kit-n-kaboodle down to the trash bucket (the one outside, not the kitchen trash).

Leave it to the woman to ultimately take care of things – GIRL POWER!!

Silver lining:

1. Thank God it wasn’t George – that would have scarred us all for life.


2. Cupie doesn’t really know what was in the toilet so we haven’t scarred her for life (at least not with this incident – there are plenty of other events she can discuss with her therapist later).


3. Hubby’s excited – he’s getting a new set of BBQ tongs!