I Walked the Line(s)

While in Chicago, Hubby went to the Sears Willis Tower to check out the hours for the Skydeck as well as the price of admission. We needed to know if we needed to finish applying for that second mortgage in order have enough money to finish our trip and trek on home (we've been spending a lot of money).



Right there on the website was:



Buy your tickets ahead of time? Fast Pass? It's not like it's Disneyland!

Oh, yea of little brain (that would be us).

Turns out, Willis Tower is the number one tourist attraction in Chicago. Everybody and their grandmother goes to Willis Tower.

We realized this as we walked through the doors at 10AM and into the first line. That's right, I said FIRST.

We stood in line to ride the elevator DOWN to security.

We stood in line to go through the metal detectors.

We stood in line to get our "Yup, we're totally tourists and need the cheesy green screen photo that NO ONE would ever be able to pull off in real life" to commemorate the occasion.

We stood in yet another line to BUY the tickets.

Nope, we hadn't done that whole online thing. By this point we had noticed the people who had bought the fast pass, which was double the price, skipped right past all the lines (they still had to go through the metal detectors, but didn't have to wait in line to do it), and went directly to the elevators (or so we thought).

In the line waiting for tickets, we observed that you could still buy the fast pass tickets. Why would you want to do that? The next step is the elevators to go up. Hubby decided that whomever bought those tickets was paying regular price plus a stupid tax.

Oh, yea of little brain. . .

OK, we had our tickets. We're getting on the elevator now, right?

Nope. There was yet another line. We didn't know what it was for but we stood in it and watched the fast pass people zip right through. Should have paid the stupid tax.

The line was for a movie about why and how the Sears Tower was built and how it became the Willis Tower. Quite interesting actually, but I was ready for the views AND "The Ledge".

We left the movie theater only to stand in yet another line. We weren't the only ones in the movie theater and we sat in about 2/3 of the way back from the exit doors - the ones that lead to the elevator line!

Woot! Woot!

At 12:30, we were on the elevator - which went from the lower level to the 103rd floor in just about 60 seconds. Too cool!

We took lots of pictures of Chicago.

To the North-ish:




To the East-ish:




To the South-ish:

They force you to move counter clockwise so that "The Ledge" is the last thing you get to see.

"The Ledge" is a 4 X 8 X 8 box that juts out from one side of the tower - it is glass and 1,353 feet from the street. Freaky, but soooooo cool!!!





We had to stand in what we thought was the last line to go back down. You'd think having two elevators that should only take 2 1/2 minutes round trip (minute down, minute up, plus thirty seconds for people to move their a**es), we were in line an awful long time.

Remember that cheesy tourist picture? Yah, we had to stand in line to look at those. We didn't buy them - what a waste of a line.

We made it back to the car (which was only five blocks away) sometime after 2PM.

Silver Lining:

1. The views were amazing and "The Ledge" was a unique experience so it was totally worth the wait.


2. I always pray for patience and God was giving me lots of opportunities to practice. I think I passed with flying colors.

The Training Paid Off

(FYI - This is a guest post from The Hubby)

Last night, Wifey and I completed our pilgrimage trip to Chicago to go see Jimmy Buffett in concert. This was our third time seeing him, or the second-and-a-half time seeing him for me. You see, we showed up about 3½ hours early for the show last time, and we proceeded to party (i.e., drink non-child-approved beverages) heavily for that entire time.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided once we got inside that we STILL hadn’t had enough, and bought us each another monster-sized margarita. That was apparently just enough to put me over the top, and I don’t remember much of the concert after that. On top of that, I managed to lose a $250 pair of Maui Jim sunglasses somewhere in the amphitheatre lawn.

So, having squandered that opportunity to see him, I vowed shortly afterwards that I had to make every effort to see him again. That concert was the first time he’d come to our town in 8 years, and he wasn’t coming there this year. Who knows if or when he’ll come back to our town again (after all, Jimmy Buffett isn’t getting any younger), so I figured I needed to look at surrounding cities.

Chicago’s a few hours away, but it’s doable. We’d gone to see Bill Cosby there a few years ago, so selling Wifey on the idea of going to Chicago for a concert shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. The bigger challenge was selling Wifey on the idea of me buying concert tickets at all – she just wasn’t real keen on the expense this year. She knew this was important to me, though, so I think her response was, “Whatever you decide, dear” (which of course meant I was going to buy the tickets).

I knew after the concert last year that I’d get my butt kicked if I ever got that inebriated at a Buffett concert again, so I’ve been in “training” ever since. Seriously, it seems that just about every kind of social gathering in Pleasantville involves alcohol. At the time of the concert last year, we’d only been living in Pleasantville a few months, but this was now almost a full year and a half later. Some of you might recall the time I tried to bend glass – this was part of the strict training regimen I was committed to follow. (In case you missed that story, click here to read more about it).

The night of the big event had finally arrived. We didn’t get as much time to party beforehand this time – traffic in Chicago was INSANE (even on a Saturday – there’s no way I could live with that all the time). That managed to cut a full hour off of our planned partying time. So, since we didn’t have as much time, I decided that I needed to get caught up in a hurry.

Granted, I didn’t drink as much in quantity this time, but what I lacked in quantity I made up for in speed. In under an hour, I’d managed to put down a little more than half of a gigantic bottle of Cuervo golden margarita. Unfortunately, Wifey was making me share it with her, so that’s when I ran out of liquor.

This was enough liquor for her, though, that she managed to get the brainiac idea of going to try and find one of my co-workers based on the time he arrived. You see, it turned out that he was also going to be attending the same show, and we were supposed to hook up together beforehand. However, I’m not sure if he turned off his phone or if he let the battery die, but I couldn’t get hold of him when we got there. I’d found out earlier in the day about when he was planning to get there, so her plan was to walk around to different areas and find out what time the people in that area arrived.

Now, get a mental picture of this – I’m sure you’ve all been to a big concert or sporting event at some point in your life. Imagine one big parking lot for everyone in attendance – we’re easily talking about several thousand cars. On top of that, there were apparently multiple entrances to the parking lot, so finding an area that parked about the time he was supposed to get there didn’t necessarily mean it was the right area.

We never did find him, but we did manage to see some interesting sights. Wifey did manage to get a number of interesting pictures that I’m sure you’ll get to see in the coming weeks on either this blog or her Picture This blog. I also managed to score a mighty tasty shish-kabob from a fellow parrothead (for those of you who don’t know, that’s the name for fans of Jimmy Buffett).

So enough of my digression into Wifey’s brilliant idea – let’s get back to my story. As the title said, the training paid off. By the time our little expedition was over, it was about time to go in. We got inside successfully, and we even managed to successfully “sneak” a camera in, when it turned out that cameras weren’t even banned in the first place. (I’m sure she’ll tell you more about that story at some point). We both managed to make it through all of the concert, and saw a heck of a good show.

So, in the tradition of this blog, here’s the silver lining:

1. I didn’t get my butt kicked by Wifey for drinking my way through another Buffett concert.


2. Our tenth anniversary is coming up in a couple weeks, so our trip to Chicago was kind of an early celebration of that, and we had a fantastic time (except for the traffic – we’re both SO glad we don’t live there).

Slipping Through My Fingers

Over six years ago, the thought of being blessed with a daughter was thought to be almost impossible by one side of the family, and turned out to be inevitable for the other side.

In my husband's family, a girl hadn't been born into the family in 109 years. That is, until my niece came along. My sister-in-law didn't believe the ultrasound and continued to buy boy clothes.

Surprise!

The ultrasound was right!

Then, it was right again for my second niece!

And it was right, yet again, for my Cupie!

And Stinkles!

On my side of the family. . . Well, that's another story.

My dad was blessed with two daughters - me & Sissy. When he remarried, he married a woman with two daughters - fairly close in age to Sissy & I.

I have two daughters.

Sissy has two daughters.

My youngest step-sister has two daughters.

And finally, my other step-sister has a daughter with one more is on the way.

By the time baby number eight arrives, the oldest three won't quite be six years old yet.

Dad has no hope for a grandson - we're all done.

All children are blessings. And such a HUGE responsibility.

I remember thinking, as we left the hospital with Cupie, "I can't believe they are letting us leave with this little baby girl. What are they thinking? How can they possibly know we're going to be able to handle this?"

They didn't know and they let us leave anyway.

Yes, I was pooped on. She was only a couple of weeks old and she pooped all over me during a diaper change. I started squealing for help, but my own father just sat there and laughed at me. I guess that's the official initiation into parenthood (as if the birth thing weren't enough). You get pooped, peed or puked on.

She cracked her skull open on a fireplace mantle and needed stitches at 11 months. Fortunately, her brains didn't fall out. It was a small cut after all.

She endured the entrance of her little sister into this world. She cried when, right as we were leaving the hospital, the nurses had to take Stinkles for a hearing test. She cried, "My sister, my sister, my sister . . ." She thought the nurses were taking her away permanently.

I lived through trying to sell a house while living in said house with two small children. Cupie was up rooted from the only home she'd ever known, and taken to a new daycare filled with strangers. Just as everyone said, kids are flexible and Cupie shined as her personality captured the hearts of all who met her - to this day, she has no shortage of friends.

She's lost a tooth, learned to read, taken at least one bike ride sans training wheels.

Now, it's time for another milestone and the greatest challenge thus far - she's entering kindergarten. Perhaps the challenge is more for me than it is for her. She's happy and excited. I'm excited and sad. My baby is growing up, and like the nurses who trusted us to leave the hospital embracing all the responsibility that came with a baby, I have to trust that I've given Cupie the tools she needs to embrace being responsible for herself.

It's just so hard.

Where did the time go?

It just slipped right through my fingers . . .

Click below to watch Cupie's journey from that first ride home to the first ride on the school bus. It's only a couple of minutes. There is music so have your speakers on if you want to hear it.




Silver Lining:

1. This is just one more step before she walks out of our house and into a life of her own. It's so hard to remember that one of our jobs as parents is to raise our children into self-sufficient, responsible adults.


2. I have thousands of memories leading up to this day, and I know there are thousands more to come. Memories are a treasure I hold onto tightly and pray will never be taken from me.


3. I'm not alone. Across the country thousands of "babies" are getting on the school bus for the first time and thousands of mommies are wiping a tear from her face as she presses on with the day.


4. No matter how big she gets, she will always be my baby.

I'm So Stressed About School, I Might Break Out

Not my first day of school, Cupie's!

I’m so stinkin’ tired right now. I was up until 1:30 selecting, editing & resizing pictures for the Cupie Slideshow. First day of kindergarten is tomorrow!!

It was open house at the school last night. Cupie met her teacher, put her supplies in her cubby and got a goody bag. This did not make Stinkles happy. I feel kind of bad for her because Cupie’s getting a lot of attention lately with new clothes, new shoes, new backpack, goody bags, bus assignments, no naps, staying up a little later.

On top of not being the center of attention, last night, Stinkles was mowed down by an obnoxious boy in a green shirt. Knocked her on her buttocks, spilled her lemonade and made her cookie break in two. She didn’t take it so well.

That little boy looked to be a school-ager. I hope he’s not in Cupie’s class. Good grief, he’ll probably turn out to be her first boyfriend. Well, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

Hubby won’t let her have a boyfriend anyway. Not until she’s at least 25 so we’ve got 20 years to go. He’s hardly amassed an arsenal of shot guns to ward off the boys, but he better get going. Ah, I remember way back then. Like me, my daughter is a social butterfly. Hubby is in deep – just ask my dad.

First, it’s that little boy in kindergarten. Then it’s the cutie on the skateboard. Before you know it there’s a peach-fuzzed lip teen ager standing on your door step asking to take your baby to the pizza place in his P.O.S. Festiva. I don’t want my daughter getting into any car called a Festiva – that totally sounds like a “fiesta” and no guy is going to have a fiesta with my daughter!

Am I getting ahead of myself again?

I am? That’s good because Hubby hasn’t started shooting lessons let alone actually purchased a shotgun. Besides, he hasn’t even started to build the shotgun rack he’s planning on mounting within plain view of the front door.

Let’s get back to the kindergarten issues, shall we?

I have to go to the grocery store to get lunch supplies. I’m a working mom. I have a hard time coming up with weekend meals that aren’t the same thing over and over. How am I going to keep Cupie fed seven days a week??? My repertoire is PB&J, chicken nuggets, cereal, fish sticks, mac & cheese, & hot breakfast. There’s more than that, but those are the items of the highest frequency on the grocery list. Help????

We haven’t picked out the first day of school outfit yet. We’ll have to make that a priority tonight. I don’t want to deal with it in the morning. It’s been bad enough lately with the, “Don’t make me tell you to get dressed again. . .” speeches that have become a regular occurrence. And these are just regular ole days – not THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

I swear, the first day of school outfit set the tone for the entire year when I was younger. You either dressed right or you were ostracized from the “IN” crowd for the rest of the year.

So, I went to the:

• first grade in knee high socks, knickers and suspenders


• sixth grade in my stretch pants, huge shirt with a side slung belt and earrings the size of your fist


• tenth grade in my tight rolled jeans, tucked in blousy pirate-ish shirt and hair the size of Texas

We moved right after I had started my junior year of school. I was so ticked off at my mom, I don’t remember what I wore after that.

Sorry about the fashion show. For those that are my age (you know who you are because you are laughing and thinking back to when you wore the same thing), you’re welcome for the trip down memory lane. For those who are younger, Google styles of the eighties & early nineties – trust me, you’ll laugh. For those who are older, go ahead and laugh – just remember you were the ones who thought fashion in the sixties and/or seventies was cool.

I’ve reached the age where I don’t care about being trendy. As long as something is pretty, fits comfortably, and doesn’t require dry cleaning, it’ll do. My boss frowns on pajamas in the work place, but I’ve got these pants that are super stretchy and light weight, it’s almost like wearing PJ’s. I wish I had them in a bunch of different colors.

I suppose I’ll also have to evaluate what I’m wearing at the bus stop tomorrow. I don’t want to embarrass Cupie on her first day. Who am I kidding? I might as well embarrass her – gotta make the money I’m going to spend on therapy worth it!

Silver Lining:

1. The first day of school only comes once a year. All the stress will be relieved by 8:30 tomorrow.


2. My daughter is like me – not shy. She shouldn’t have any trouble making new friends. Its one thing I’ve never had to stress about with her.


3. All of you are going to give me lots of lunch ideas. Lunch stress – relieved!

PS - I'm tied for first in my Babes in Blogland quest, and there is a dark horse coming up the stretch. Please take a moment to click the red button at the top of my right side bar. Vote for "Life Makes Me Laugh" as your favorite Babe in Blogland. There's only a week & a half left. Thanks!

Say What?

The grocery store. The first place you think of for an earful of entertainment, right?

Probably not, but you should. You don't have to stand still long to overhear some unusual conversations. Next time you're at the store, pretend to be comparing two brands of tofu and you might overhear this:

(Woman, with two shopping carts and three kids, on the phone)

Hey, girl! So they've got Creamy JIF, Crunchy JIF, Skippy, Peter Pan, generic, and some all natural stuff. If he's allergic to peanuts, what kind of peanut butter can he have?

Say What?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Try not to fall to the floor laughing at this! You might crack your skull on the hard cement floor. If you crack your skull open, your brains will fall out (I actually tell my kids this). Then, you'll ask stupid questions like this woman all the time.

Not surprisingly, this same woman was overheard in the check out line displaying an equally amazing level of brain power.

Let me set the scene:

Two carts of groceries (including several cases of soda) have been unloaded and rung up. There are three smallish children and a guy standing around waiting for Peanut Butter Ding-bat Lady (PBDB for short).

According to the cashier, the total is $437. PBDB runs her food stamps card. There's only $400 on the card so she is left with a balance of $37.

The guy suggests she use her child support card. Didn't know they had cards for this now, but I guess it makes sense. That way you can make sure you use the child support money the way you're supposed to - ON THE CHILDREN - right?

Nooooo, no, no, no, no, no. Duh, that would be to obvious.

PBDB: I can't use that. That's just my beer & cigarette money.

Say What?!?!?!?!?!?!?

But wait, it gets better!

The guy ponies up the $37.

As a thank you, PBDB says: Next time we're at the store, I'll buy you a couple of extra cases of beer to make up for this.

Say What?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Since the child support card is her ciggies & beer money, how is it any different? Either she uses it now to buy the groceries or she uses it later to buy his beer.

Silver Lining:

1. I don't really know because I don't think there have been any studies on this yet, but I hope she represents a small number of food stamps and child support recipients. There are several stereotypes out there, and PBDB just enforces the bad ones.

2. While my children may go to therapy when they are older and discuss at length the many ways I screwed them up, I know in my heart of hearts I did my best. I don't think PBDB could say the same.

The Narrow Escape

My sister, Sissy(ingenious, I know), is guest posting today. She sent me this little story after returning from a trip to "The Great White North" (aka Wisconsin - I know it's August, but come on, it's Wisconsin, I think they've gotten their first frost already).


In Sissy's words:

Ok, so you know how you tell your kids things that they shouldn’t do and why they shouldn’t do them? Well, I am that kind of mom that speaks the right path, but doesn’t necessarily follow it!

Mimi (four years old) knows about cigarettes. However, I always tell her they are yucky and bad for you. She asks “Why?”

So I tell her cigarettes give you bad stinky breath, stinky cloths, wrinkles and worse, that you can DIE from them.

Granted, I do occasionally smoke however, I NEVER let my kids see me. I usually smoke when I’m out drinking. It just goes with the alcohol, why is that??

So I go on a trip to visit my family. I make sure I bring cigarettes for I know I will be drinking WINE - a few bottles of wine. You know at family gatherings you need alcohol to tolerate it all.

Anyways, the weekend goes by, I had a few smokes, and without thinking, put them in my purse and back home we go.

We get home, unload the car, and unwind from the 8-hour drive. Later that evening, I went to change purses, for the next day I had to return to work. Heaven forbid, I carry around my weekend, PINK summer bag which doesn’t make my work attire.

I place the cigarettes on the table. No need to transfer them to my work purse. The long weekend is over and there is no WINE in the house for me to enjoy.

A few hours later, Mimi comes running into the living room.

”Why do you have CIGARETTES!!”

Like a deer caught in headlights, I just looked at her, my stomach dropped to the floor. My mind is racing “Oh no, what do I say? What do I tell her?”

So I play dumb.

“What, what are you talking about, where are there cigarettes?”

She goes running back into the kitchen and brings them back to me.

One hand on her hip, the other shaking the package of cigarettes around, saying “These cigarettes MOM. Why do you have these? These things are YUCKY!”

Quick on my feet, I play the blame game. “Those must be Great Aunt DeeDee’s. Remember, she was smoking outside during our visit, maybe they got placed in mommy’s purse by accident.”

I continued, “You know mommy and daddy don’t smoke, cigarettes are bad for your health silly.”

Then Mimi is like “Ya, I know, but now we need to drive back up north and give them back.”

I simply said, “Mommy will mail them to her, would that be OK?”

Mimi thought that was a good idea.

WWOOO, that was a narrow escape, mommy got away with that!


Silver lining:

1. Even grownups still lie like little kids, we've just got more practice. Mental note: HIDE what every you don’t want your kids to see.

2. Kids are gullible and believe Mommy & Daddy know everything. All this will come to a screeching halt by the time they've reached six or seven, but we can live in bliss until then, right?

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Demi-a?

You ever have one of those days? You know the kind. Nothing seems to go right.

I’m not having one of those days. I’m having a great day. I’ve laughed quite a bit in fact.

It’s my friend Demi who’s having one of those days. And gosh darn it, if it ain’t funny when it’s not you.

Let’s start with this morning.

I was running late so I don’t know if she had had any coffee. We get coffee together every morning and get our gab on before starting the day. But today was not one of those days.

Maybe that's what started the whole thing. She didn’t have any coffee, nor did she get the benefit of getting a preview of future blog posts. She doesn’t actually read my blog because I’ve already told her all the stories over coffee. Although, she could read it once and awhile and voice her opinion.

Let’s get back to her day.

So she comes down to my desk and rests her elbows on the ginormous stack of papers at the end of my desk.

“I have a problem. This spreadsheet worked last week, but now it doesn’t. I swear I’m doing the exact same thing.”

As per our routine, we hippity-hop down to her desk.

“See this number here [points a report on her desk], doesn’t match this number on the spreadsheet.”

I started looking at the reports.

“You ran the wrong report.”

She tried to log in to re-run the report, but clicked on the wrong website in her favorites.

Once we got to the right website, she clicked on the wrong button to run the report.



“What’s with you and the clicking? Or should I say mis-clicking?” I’m snickering at her expense, but at least she was snickering at herself.

Isn’t snicker a funny word? Seriously, where did this come from?

Were the people who invented the Snickers bar laughing when they came up with nougat, caramel, peanuts & chocolate? Nougat is a funny word too; maybe that’s what started the whole thing.

Fast forward to lunch time.

We head over to the Jack In The Box for our two free tacos (free taco Tuesday). That’s another post, for another time.

After a somewhat uneventful lunch, we’re heading over to the grocery store for a few things. I’m reading her my notes for yet another post (like I said we didn’t have the morning coffee – I gotta get her up to speed sometime), yet I’m the one who noticed she was about to pull out in front of another car.

Technically, she was making an illegal turn, but she blamed the other guy anyway. There was a median in front of us so she was going to make a quick left (against traffic) to jaunt around it so we could get to the grocery store. The guy hesitated for like an eighth of a second so she took that as the signal for her to go ahead with her illegal jaunt.

Fast forward to after the grocery store.

This time she almost backed into another car that was also backing up. That chick had the gall (another great word) to honk at us! She’s the one who floored it when backing out of her parking space.


Then, a guy almost t-boned us. Totally would have been his fault – he was the one entering our lane of traffic.

I’m now sitting white knuckled in the passenger seat.

“Demi! You can’t click on the right things this morning. Now, you almost got into three accidents. What is the deal?”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that last guy. He was on your side.”

OK – I totally deserved that. I’d been giving her all kinds crap all day. And I hadn’t brought up the issue she had with her cell phone not working yet – turns out it had been turned off. Seems that in turning your phone off, it doesn’t ring nor can you make any calls with it – weird, huh?

We rode along for a little bit, chit chatting. Despite the driving issues, I stayed in the car with her because hitch-hiking would have been more dangerous. At least if we got in an accident, my body would be found right away instead of rotting in a ditch for weeks after the hitch-hiker killed me. My family would have closure sooner. I’m a thinker, aren’t I?

Suddenly, Demi turned toward me. I thought, “Dude, keep your eyes on the road!”

“I know what my problem is! I can’t hear anything!”

WHAT?

What does hearing have to do with clicking the right button on the computer or not running into any cars?

“No, Demi. I think the issue today is just the your aura. But just to be safe, should we get you one of those ear horns?”

Silver Lining:

1. She has a good sense of humor and was laughing with me the entire time I was teasing her.


2. I found an ear horn/trumpet on Ebay for only $545.00 (or you could buy it now for $580.00).

Blog Frog

To all my bloggy friends: I need your help! I've added "The Blog Frog" to my sidebar and need you guys to help build my community. I've got a sassy new badge you can add to your blog, then you can come back and join the "Amusement Park".

To all my non-bloggy friends: Start a blog yourself so you can join the fun! I'll be one of your first followers :)

To all my friends: What do you think of the new look?

I'll be back later with a funny post about this weekend.

Silver Lining (since there has to be at least one): I'm almost done puttering with my blog, and I finally feel like the look matches my message.

PS - I've gotten some comments about the Blog Frog thing. All you have to do is add my badge to your sidebar (or link up to me some other way like add me to your blog roll). Then return here & click on "Become a Ticket Holder". You enter your URL and that's it - you're in!

Watch Out Superheros of the World - You've Got Competition

It’s my 100th post!

(As long as you don't count the contact me, profile, etc ones for the nav menu)

Sorry, it’s taken me a whole week to post something new, but I was hoping something extraordinarily funny would happen this week to write about. But it didn’t so I’ve got to reach back into the archives of my brain.

Watch out folks, the dust could choke a small child and send all you allergy types to the hospital for a breathing treatment. I didn’t have to reach back too far, it’s just that I don't like to use my brain all that often.

Back in April, I told you all about the Pleasantville Beer Tasting event. Lots of fun, but last year’s was even better.

In case you’re too lazy to click back to my prior post, I’ll give you a quick run down on how the beer tasting event works:

1. You pay to get a card listing 20 beers. The card has the name of the beer, country of origin, and a brief description.


2. You get a 3 ounce cup of each beer (we opted to get 2-4 at a time – you don’t want it to get warm) and the distributors put an “X” through the box to the left of the beer name. You’re only allowed one taste of each unless you’re a pretty good flirt, or you know the people distributing the beer (I had both these things going for me)


3. The event is 2 hours long.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh (that’s the sound of time going backwards). Ah, we’ve reached Summer 2008, night of the first Pleasantville Beer Tasting event Hubby & I attended, near the site of the first fill-your-beer-tasting-card-first contest.

We filled our cards within two hours. Hubby claimed I cheated because I gave away some of the nastier tasting beers. Not that it mattered, he filled his card first. There wasn’t Moose Drool on the list, but some of it tasted like gutter water.

Using my flirting skills I scored myself an entire bottle of some beer from Brazil – I remember it being the best one. This was after consuming more than the equivalent of a six pack (considering I gave some away) in two hours.

Then, our friends Ken & Barbie knew one of the distributors, and they had extra bottles of beer left over. Scored another beer or two here as well. It was no Brazilian beer, but at that point the taste buds are so numb, who cares?

Hubby and I stumbled over to the amphitheatre to “watch” the band. The amphitheatre was only a block away, but we felt the need to wheel our bikes over because we didn’t want to leave them at the Wine Bar (where the beer tasting event took place – weird, I know). I kept bumping them on the pedals so my shins were bruised all to hell the next day.

We parked our bikes at the top of the amphitheatre and plopped down on a bench. I saw a friend about 20 yards away and told Hubby I’d be “right back” because I wanted to talk to her. If any of you have ever read my post about breaking and entering, you would know that I NEVER come “right back”. After 15 minutes, Hubby came stumbling over and hung out with the guys.

Someone offered him a bottle of beer.

Why would you do that? He could barely stand up as it was.

By this time, I had started sobering up. While Hubby doesn’t remember this, I remember it very clearly.

Hubby came running (in a weaving, stumbling kind of way) with the most excited look on this face (kind of like his proud I-ate-half-a-watermelon smile).

“I bent glass! Look, I bent glass!”

He turned around and repeated this to anyone standing nearby and shoving the beer bottle in their face to show them the bent neck.

This continued for about five minutes as he made his way around to everyone standing in a 10 foot radius.

Someone finally pointed out he was holding an aluminum bottle.

He had tried to twist off the cap (aluminum bottles are not twist offs) and ended up bending the neck of the bottle.

Silver Lining:

1. I had sobered up enough to remember this proud moment.


2. While Hubby doesn’t remember, I’ve got witnesses.


3. Just like this year, we rode our bikes so there was no driving involved. Unlike this year, we had to walk the babysitter home (we didn’t even want to drive around the block).

PS – While we felt the need to move the bikes a block to the amphitheatre, we didn’t feel the need to move them over by our friends. The bikes were completely obscured from view because of all the people there. Good thing we live where we do. They were still there later, and they weren’t even locked up.

Fruit Salad, Yummy, Yummy

Ha, ha - I can see you all bobbing your heads to that high quality Wiggles song. Well, I can't really see you, but I still know you're doing it.

Anyway, we LOVE fruit salad. It's not the kind your Aunt Matilda used to make with all the corn syrup, way too many canned peach slices, and was just plain slimy. No, we make ours with grapes (green & red), pineapple, strawberries, watermelon, apples, bananas, and sometimes oranges.

Hubby was in charge of getting eggs and bread. He came home with five hundred bags of stuff - that's a lot of bread. My we-can't-be-blowing-money-at-the-grocery-store-just-because-it-looked-good face changed very quickly once I realized the makings for fruit salad made up some of those bags.

My kids recognize the ingredients as well. Apparently, we weren't moving fast enough on cutting up fruit because Stinkles reached up and rolled the watermelon right off the counter; thus, splitting it in half. She was just kick starting the process, I guess.

After letting the split watermelon sit on the counter for 1/2 hour (just long enough to make a watery mess requiring at least ten Bounty paper towels to clean up), Hubby cut up one half for the fruit salad. We only needed half, and Hubby made a comment about just cutting up the rest and sticking it in the fridge.

I said, "Or you could just get a spoon."

I WAS KIDDING!

Next thing I know, he's grabbed a spoon and the salt shaker, plunked his a** in a chair, and proceeded to eat the other half while watching Grease.

Take a quick detour with me for a second. What's up with salt on watermelon? This is the goofiest thing I've ever heard of - sounds like a great way to screw up a good watermelon. Although Hubby doesn't understand putting cheese on everything either. I guess we're even.

Does anyone find it amusing my husband was watching Grease? I do.

So there he is enjoying every morsel of his watermelon and its salty goodness, when he asks Cupie to bring him a fork. I raised an eyebrow.

"What? I need something with a little more bite. The watermelon kind of slides around on the spoon, and I can't get my usual Hubby-sized (aka fist sized) bites in my mouth." It seems the watermelon kept slipping off the spoon and landing in the "bowl".

Cupie was more than willing to help him out. I'm sure she was hoping to get the spoon.

Eventually, the juice started getting in the way. He couldn't see the bottom of the proverbial bowl to be sure he was gouging out the red part instead of the white part. Also, the juice was becoming a potential hazard. According to Bill Cosby, salty juice in the eye could blind you for life (or was that soap?). Not to mention the damage I'd inflict on him due to spilling juice on the furniture and/or carpet.

A solution was conceived!

No, it did not involve dumping the juice in a sink.

It involved a straw.

Cupie ran to get one. This time she "benefited" from this action. Hubby was so generous, he let her drink the juice using the straw. Yum, salty, nearly tasteless watermelon juice. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

She did come back for seconds and thirds. The third time, she exclaimed, "Oh yay! There's more juice!" Sad.

As "Hopelessly Devoted To You" was almost over, Hubby finished the watermelon and was very sad about the whole thing. I think the whole event is just plain sad.

Silver Lining:

1. I didn't have room in the refrigerator for an extra container of watermelon. Hubby solved that problem - he's just so full of solutions isn't he?

2. Fruit salad - need I say more.

Who Is This Idiot - Blog Hop '09

I know there are lots of you ladies out there who are sad that you didn't get to go to Chicago for Blogher '09. However, I've found an alternative - an online party/networking dealio!

Even if you're not into the whole "Blogher" thing, you can meet new bloggers, and attract some new readers too.

So here's what you do:

Click the picture above to get the rules, put a link in your side bar & write a post telling people a little bit about you!

Have fun!

OK, here's what you "need" to know about me:

• I'm married to Hubby - almost 10 years now!


• I have two beautiful daughters - Cupie & Stinkles


• I live an idealic town I call Pleasantville. It's super cute! There are lots of amenities and entertainment within walking distance. We can ride our bikes to an organic farm where they have live animals & crops. Most of the houses have front wide, deep front porches - but even if you don't have a porch we're all super friendly.


• My family rents a garden plot at the organic farm. We can't use any chemicals and almost everything was started from organic seeds. It's a slow process and we're learning a lot. I chronicle some of it in one of my other blogs - The Goofy Gardener.


• Speaking of which, besides this and my gardening blogs, I have one more. I have a passion for photography and I share it in Picture This . . .


• I crochet baby blankets and knit scarves.


• I'm really quite a DIY'er. I've made all my curtains for every home I've ever had. When I see something I really like, but can't afford, I figure out a way to either make it myself or find a frugal alternative. I'm not too shabby with a jig saw and a drill either.


• I love to laugh and I see the good in almost every situation. Let's face it, I'm funny and I'll give you a chuckle at least a couple times a week. I crave attention and comments just feed that need so I'm looking forward to making a bunch of new people laugh.

That's just a few of the facts about me, but there is so much more. You'll just have to comb through "The Idiot Chronicles" to find out more. I've made it a little easy on you by listing my favorite posts in the sidebar.

Now go out there and meet some new people. Click the button at the top!

Silver Lining:

1. I enjoy finding new blogs to read and this is a great opportunity!

2. At least I know about Blogher now - I learned about it too late to join in the fun. Maybe next year!

First Dear So and So "Letters"

Dear So and So is hosted by Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow for Let in Crazytown. Here's my first set of letters:


Dear Mother Nature,

Have you been sleeping? Are you just hitting the snooze button instead of getting up and changing the season over to summer?

Or did someone send you a letter saying that they didn't believe in you so you've totally left Pleasantville without a summer? Don't tell me we're going to have to build a clock that chimes:



Seriously, it was only 70 some degrees the other night. My kids had to wear jackets! Where is the usual almost 100, humid as a rain forest July weather.

You don't have to return with a vengeance. I'm thinking mid 80's would be good. At least we could use the pool we pay a zillion dollars for each year as part of the HOA.

Thanks in advance for dropping in,
TLI


Dear Hubby,

When we eat dinner outside on a July evening that leaves you so cold, you have to huddle under a blanket because you "just can't seem to warm up," don't ask me to get you a brown thing (aka fudgicle) out of the freezer. Hello!

Love you tons anyway,
M


Dear Follower Who Stopped Following,

I hope I didn't offend you. I'd rather have someone call me on going over the line by contacting me via e-mail (there's a contact button in the nav bar) instead of just dropping out. At least let me apologize. You kind of hurt my feelings.

Sincerely,
TLI


Dear Faithful, Loyal, Awesome, Wouldn't-Let-Me-Down Readers,

I'm falling behind a bit in my quest to be number one on the Blogs in Babeland top ten. I know it's a top ten list, but my pride is on the line here. If you haven't already, please click the red button to get to the poll, and vote for me. If you've already voted for me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Groveling shamelessly,
TLI


Dear Mascara Marketers,

FYI - Nothing short of fake eye lashes is going to make my eyes look like the model's in your ads. Quit claiming your want makes a difference. Also, I'm sure I'm wiggling my want just fine without paying double to get one that does it for me.

Just going to buy the cheap stuff from now on,
TLI


Silver Lining:
1. It feels good to get some of this off my chest.
2. After that letter to Mother Nature, maybe we'll get some warmer weather here.

Anyone for Pizza?

I didn’t bring my lunch today, nor did I feel like going out. The food drawer at my cube is also empty seeing as how I ate my last pop tart for lunch yesterday. A friend of mine regularly plays trivia in the lunch room so I decided to take my chances with the wheel of death and play a little trivia.

The wheel of death is a vending machine that contains “fresh-ish” lunch type food – salads, sandwiches, square pizza, etc. It’s a frustrating machine.

Sometimes it takes your money, but doesn’t let you open the compartment door.

Sometimes I rotate the food I want to the door, but the machine decides otherwise and will spontaneously turn to some other random compartment (which is usually empty).

Other times, the dang door doesn’t open far enough. I got a salad last week and the door opened about four inches when there was a seven or eight inch salad container to get out.

That sucker was $2.75, there was no way I was letting that door close. The compartment was giving birth to the salad whether it wanted to or not. I yanked it out, slapped it’s bottom, and heard that newborn salad cry as I pulled off the crinkled-up lid.

Today, I decided to go for the square, elementary school pizza. When you put it in the microwave it gets all chewy. I decided I should give the toaster oven a whirl.

I’ve never used a toaster oven in my life.

And there were no instructions near by.

There was a button for pizza. Duh, let’s push that one.

Gee whiz! It started blinking at me. I stared back at it with a blank look on my face. Now what?

Another friend happened to be in the kitchen and came over to help. He had never used it before either, but he was kind enough to point out the “start” button.

I pushed the start button. A blue light came on, but the display continued to blink at me. So I pushed the start button again.

Everything turned off.

Like an idiot I went through this routine three more times. I finally let it blink just to see what happened.

Lo and behold, it started to warm up!

It continued to blink until it hit a desired temperature of 400 degrees, then switched over to timer mode. 20 minutes!!! I don’t cook a frozen pizza at home for that amount of time! It was at this point I realized we had frozen pizza for dinner last night. And my mother-in-law was bringing pizza over for dinner tonight. *sigh*

I pulled open the door after five minutes (the cheese was bubbling) and discovered there weren’t any pot holders or oven mitts around. It was 400 degrees, how the heck was I going to get it out of there?

I got a fork to slide it out onto a plate, but it was stuck to the little pan.

After I singed my knuckle, trying to work a plastic knife between the pizza and the pan, I got a wad of napkins to use as a pot holder.

By the time I extracted my pizza from the pan, the whole dealio had cooled off enough to use my hands. I made my way over to the trivia group, picked up my pizza, and discovered it was chewy.

Next time, I’ll just microwave it.

Silver Lining:

1. The pizza must have been somewhat fresh or I cooked it long enough because I haven’t shown any signs of food poisoning yet.

2. I won’t be craving pizza anytime soon. That’s better for the diet that I re-start every day because I failed the day before.

Bunco - RTT Edition

Random Thoughts Tuesday. Hmmm, this seems like a good time to get out all the Bunco stories I’ve got rambling around in my brain, but haven’t had a way to bring them together in a coherent story. Thanks Kat (3 Bedroom Bungalow to Let in Crazytown) for turning me on to this.

If anyone else wants to join in, click the button above to get to Keely's blog for all the "rules" and to grab your own button.

In case you don’t know what Bunco is, it’s a dice game requiring twelve players. I belong to two different groups – one with mostly ladies from church and the other with my Pleasantville neighbors. Bunco has been referred to as “Drunco” because, let’s be honest, you get twelve women together without kids & husbands, alcohol will be involved.

Also, don’t think the church group is different from the Pleasantville group. They can get just as loud and raunchy as any other group. For this reason, I don’t feel like I actually have to differenciate between the two for any of these random thoughts – you can make up your own vision.

I have another post about Bunco. To get a little more understanding, you can read it here.

Anywho, here we go.

Misty has these “Native American Story Teller” dolls littering her family room. I didn’t think the one's she had looked as much like Native Americans as I thought they looked like those Russian nesting dolls, but that doesn’t matter. So these dolls sit there with their mouths open holding babies. Apparently, the more babies these dolls are holding, the more valuable they are – what a scam, you could just glue as many babies on as you wanted to make more money. Their mouths are open because they are supposed to be telling a story, but I gotta say, I don’t know if they are telling stories or offering blow jobs – they totally got their “O” face going on. Maybe this is how they get so many babies.

One gal carries a vibrator around in her car, just so she can say that she does. You never know. It may come in handy when there is an extra long light, or an accident that totally shuts down the highway.

There is a lot of counting in Bunko – adding is not allowed. Do you know how hard it is to add 2+5 after two or three hours of drinking margaritas? When we roll the dice (there are three), we count out the points (just go with it & don’t ask questions):

Roll 1: One
Roll 2: Two-tree (two points here – it’s a U.P./Northern WI thing – it’s always “Two-tree”)
Roll 3: That’s it

“That’s it” is a common phrase.

Why we feel the need to announce, “That’s it,” when we don’t score any points is a mystery really. Everyone at the table can see that, duh!

It’s like playing Poker and losing all your money. “Well, guys I’m out of chips, I guess I’m out of the game.” Really? You think the guy next to you with all your money isn’t thinking, “Ha, ha sucker – that’s because it’s all riiiiiight here.”

Also, after a few drinks just reading the dice can be difficult.

One night, Dusty rolled a 4, 5, 6 and the target number was three. When we said, “That’s it,” she got all up in arms. Dusty said, “Well, it was close to a three.” Hmmm, 4-5-6, yah that’s close.

And finally for this Random Tuesday Thoughts Bunco Edition, the bean dip at the last Bunco night was so delicious we gobbled it up with everything. It was like cheese to a Wisconsinite (cheese goes with everything to us). We had the dip on top of nachos, with the tortillas, just chips themselves, strawberry shortcake, Reese’s Peanut Buttercup cookies, margaritas. Nothing was too sacred for the bean dip – it’s the whore of dips.

Silver Lining:

1. I’ve got several more score sheets with notes to fill a book – although some of the notes, I’m not sure I understand anymore. Remember, they were taken under the influence.

2. Bunco isn’t going to end anytime soon. There will be more stories.

PS – If you like me. If you really, really like me, please click on the red button in my side bar. Vote for Life Makes Me Laugh for the top ten Babes in Blogland. You don’t even have to really like me, you can just sorta like me – I’ll take the vote anyway.

I'm a Babe!

Do you remember that movie Airplane?

You know, the one with Leslie Neilson and that awesome speech his character (Rumack) gave to Ted Striker? The speech went something like this:

Well, I don't have anything to say, you've done the best you could. You really have, the best you could. You can't expect to win em all. But, I want to tell you something I've kept to myself through these years. I was in the war myself, medical corps. I was on late duty one night when they brought in a badly wounded pilot from one of the raids. He could barely talk. He looked at me and said, "The odds were against us up there, but we went in anyway, I'm glad the Captain made the right decision." The pilot's name was George Zip. The last thing he said to me, "Doc," he said, "some time when the crew is up against it, and the breaks are beating the boys, tell them to get out there and give it all they got and win just one for the Zipper."

Well, here's your chance to "win one for the Zipper."

There is a contest to name the top ten blogs amongst the Babes in Blogland. Being a delicious babe myself, I think I am definately one of the top ten - if not number one :)

It's up to you, my loyal readers, to place a vote for me. See that cute little red picture that says, "VOTE FOR ME" above it? I'll give you a minute.

Yes, that's the one.

Now click it, and "Life Makes Me Laugh" is the sixth one on the list.

Please, oh please take a moment to vote for me!!

The contest closes on August 20th, but don't worry I'll keep reminding you with every post (I'm just annoying that way).


Silver Lining:

1. I've already got one vote! Nevermind that it was me voting for myself - I'm just being honest here.

2. I have all of you wonderful, faithful, loyal, reliable, wouldn't-leave-me-hangin' readers.

"Just want to tell you folks good luck, we're all counting on you."

Well, I'm counting on you. Thanks for not letting me down. No pressure or anything.

I Hear Voices

My parents live 500 miles away from me, and 99% of the time they are not in the room with me and my kids. To this end, I don’t understand why I keep hearing their voices when I’m yelling at my kids.


This happens any time I hear the following phrases:

Turn that down.

Don’t make me come over there.

Grouschmockit! (This means move it)

Put your shoes away.

I’m sick & tired . . .

Do you want me to turn this car around?

Stop that crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.

Because I said so.

Turn off some of these lights, the house is lit up like a Polish chapel.

I’m on the phone!


One time I was on the phone with The Mom, when I heard the phone phrase. I said, “Did you just say that?”

She said, “No, honey. That was you”

Then it hit me. Oh, crap! I’ve turned into my parents.

Silver lining:

1. Sissy & I aren’t too screwed up so I guess I’m not scarring the kids for life with these phrases.

2. Grouschmockit is actually endearing. This one has been in the family for generations. I’d heard both my grandma & great-grandma use it. I don’t know how to actually spell it or what language it is – my guess is either German or Russian.

Favorite Game

What was the first body part your child was able to identify?

Probably their nose, eyes, mouth or belly button, right?

Not my kids.

They are both extremely ticklish in their armpits. Since my favorite sound is my children's laughter, their armpits get tickled a lot.

Early on, one of our favorite games with them was, "Where's Your Armpit?"

As a result, the first body part they were able to identify was their armpits.

Wow, aren't I a great parent?

Silver Lining:
1. It's still a fun "game" we play. And they willingly raise their arms. Too funny.
2. The game always ends with snuggles, and that's just awesome.

Good Grief!

What a morning!

What’s the first thing you do when you get to work?

Beside quickly flipping on the lights, radio & signing in to my computer, I need COFFEE!!!

So, I pick up my cup (the kind with a lid) and head over to the mini kitchen to make my poor man’s Starbuck’s cup of coffee. But first I need to clean out my cup. This is a morning ritual because I just don’t get to it the day before.

I pull off the lid and scrub everything up real well. Then, I grab some paper towels to dry it all off. Even the inside, which I know doesn’t make sense because I’m just going to pour coffee in it.

I proceed to add six sugar substitutes (Splenda is preferred, but work is too cheap), an entire packet of sugar free hot cocoa, powdered creamer (not measured by any means, just pour for a second or two), and finally the coffee goes in. If I’m lucky, my friend Demi will have saved a bit of her cereal milk to top it off. I don’t know what this combo would be called or what it would cost at Starbuck’s, but I get it free at work. HA, HA all you Starbuck’s suckers!

I went to put the lid on the cup and it set in the top way to easily. The little rubber ring was missing!!! You know, that ring that prevents the beverage from dribbling down your shirt.

Crap, what happened to it?

I looked at the floor – nothing but a bunch of paper towel scraps. How hard is it to pick those up people? Never mind the fact that I didn’t pick them up either – I was too busy stressing over the missing rubber ring.

I looked in the sink – not there. Sweat was starting to form on my brow.

Was it in the disposal [Cue the Psycho stabbing scene music]?

I used a plastic knife to push back the black thingy that prevents the food from flying out when you start it up.

Ewwww! There were pieces of chicken in there!

If I was sticking my hand in there, I had to know exactly where the rubber ring was. I needed a flashlight. Fortunately, being the stuff queen, there was one in my purse.

Rush to the desk.

Rush to the mini kitchen.

Rushing was good for the moment because the wind dried up that sweaty brow.

Me and my handy-dandy knife inspected the disposal using the flashlight. Geez, those things are wide. I couldn’t see all the way to the edges. I needed a wider view.

I started to pull the black thingy up, but the underside was covered in slime! ABORT! ABORT!

After washing my hands I looked despairingly around the kitchen. It’s got to be some place else and thought to myself, “Please oh please Magic Rubber Ring Fairy, make it appear. Make it rise up like the Great Pumpkin. To be sure I’ll see it, have the Hallelujah Choir sing loud and proud so I can turn in the right direction.”

Guess what? There is no Magic Rubber Ring Fairy. Dammit!

Dejected, I made my way back to my desk. I figured I’d drink the coffee without a lid and pray to God I didn’t tip the cup over. With the state of my desk, finding a secure place to set it down was a challenge. Not only did it have to be a place where it was unlikely to be tipped over, but it also had to be convenient. I can’t be turning around (I have a U-shaped cube) and reaching way over to the back of my desk for my coffee.

The optimist in me started laughing at the whole situation and I decided to write this blog entry. I had gotten three lines in (right up to the picking up the cup part), and [Bing!] a light bulb went off.

It had to be in the trash. I hadn’t been sitting here very long and I had mostly been the only person in the mini kitchen during this saga so it should be near the top right?

Nope.

In the five minutes I had left the kitchen, someone had come in and made a new pot of coffee. I had to dig past the coffee filter & grounds plus all the paper towels I had used in my garbage disposal quest.

Woot! Woot! There it was!!!

I washed that baby, got it on my lid and guzzled the coffee. Now, I need another cup. I just may skip back to the mini kitchen.


Silver Lining:

1. Duh, I found the ring!

2. There were powdered donettes – five seemed like a good consolation prize for my efforts.

3. I managed to accomplish all this activity without an ounce of caffeine in my body. That’s a major feat. My boss doesn’t even ask me to do things without making sure I’ve had a cup of coffee first – he knows better. That’s what makes him so great. I might just get him a card for Boss’s Day this year.

I've Got Boobs

Recently, I was getting dressed and happened to drop my bra right in front of my three-year-old, Stinkles.

She cupped by boobs and said, "What are these Mommy?" As if the question weren't weird enough, her hands cupping my boobs was just plain uncomfortable.

We've never had any of these conversations in our house because they've never asked.

I bit the bullet, and said, "They're boobs, Honey."

She excitedly pulled up her shirt and said, "I've got boobs too!"

Now she looks at everyone and asks to see their boobs or wants to show off her own.

We've explained that boobs are a private area, but modesty has completely escaped her.


Silver lining:

1. She's only three so it's cute now. We won't find it so cute when she's sixteen though.

2. That first private body parts conversation wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be.

4th of July 2009

We've had some seriously weird weather here in Pleasantville. Normally, the 4th of July is hot as Hades with a humidity level that rivals the tropics. No amount of de-frizzer is going to save your 'do.

The weekend was looking unbelievably good - 80-some degrees all weekend with a good chance of rain Saturday morning. I swore it was an April Fool's joke, but the applicable grace period for that expired at midnight on April 2nd.

For once, the weather guys were right. It rained (a lot) Saturday morning, but went to mostly cloudy for the afternoon & evening with a few sprinkles here and there. The temperature was awesome, but we ended up with the standard level of humidity - I know Hubby had to change his shirt once because I was soaked with sweat just from being outside.

We headed over to the block party around six-ish and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. All the neighbors had contributed with food of some sort (what's a party without too much food) plus cash for a band and the BIG fireworks.

The kids got to play with water balloons.

And sparklers.

And ate sugary food (heaven forbid they put something healthy, like a hot dog, in their mouths).

We partied with the band right up to fireworks time.

Like I said, we all chipped in for the big stuff. It was a good show.

I didn't time it, but it was at least half an hour.

Then, the party was over. The monsoon had arrived.

Oh well, what's an Island Block Party without a little rain (we had rain for the block party last year too)?

Silver Lining:

1. The humidity didn't hamper our enthusiasm.

2. The rain came right after the fireworks.

Do the Marketing People Laugh to Themselves When They Come Up With This Stuff?

So, I was at Target the other night because I needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions. Hubby was kind enough to keep the kids at home so I just had to walk the aisles – I couldn’t help myself. Sad, that I see going to Target without kids as an escape, a luxury, if you will.

Once I got home and unloaded my purchases, I observed the following oddball information on the product tags:

• I got an awesome insulated bag. It’s just the right size to lay at least six bottles of beer on their side & zip it up. This is important because we live in a community where people regularly carouse the streets & impromptu gatherings occur. You need the bag just in case. Of course it would be better if I could find one where the bottles (we don’t do cans, we’re bottle snobs) stood upright, but this will do.
  
  Here’s the tag on the outside of the bag. I didn’t actually read the tag at the store. I saw the size & that it was insulated. I didn’t care what it was intended for.
  
  
  
  Since I already had beer on my mind, I thought the fact that I could have a lunch of eight beers was very intriguing. Really, how many times have you thought, “I need a drink” at lunch time? While eight beers might be excessive for one (depends on how badly the day was going), you could find some other poor soul & share.



• Still on the bag. Check out the tag on the inside.
  
  
  
  California Innovations, based in Toronto Canada, but made in China. I just found this to be quite humorous. I wonder what the guy developing the tag thought.
  
  Hmmm, I’m representing three countries on this tag. I wonder how many more I can get. [imagine phone dialing] Hey, Tom, are you sure this 8 Can Lunch Bag was exclusively made in China? Were there any other countries involved? Did it stop in Australia when it was shipped over here? [pause] It has an Arctic Zone tag on it. How about the Arctic, did it go there at all? [more pausing] OK, thanks (in a deflated tone). [phone hangs up] Darn it, I’ll just have to leave all this extra white space. Would have been cool to include Australia.



• Then, there was the toilet bowl cleaner.
  
  
  
  Huh? Kills the flu virus?
  
  I’m sorry, I never thought about catching the flu from a toilet bowl. Does the flu virus travel via human waste? I’m not touching, let alone drinking toilet water so why should this be of importance? I guess if you flush while still sitting, some vapor water could splash up onto your butt. Does the flu some how work its way in from there? After you flush, are you rubbing your butt? Aren’t you washing your hands?
  
  I think “Kills the flu virus” is a stupid claim.



• Finally, I went to McDonald’s before shopping.
  
  
  
  Iced Mocha – served hot or cold. Wouldn’t it just be a mocha if it were served hot? Enough said.

Silver Lining:

1. Shopping alone – definitely nice.


2. Along with all the other stuff I bought, I managed to remember the original purpose of the trip (prescriptions). I hate it when I leave a store, get half way home, & then remember that I was supposed to get X, which is why I made the trek out of “the compound” – Pleasantville has almost everything you need on a given day including entertainment so you generally don’t have to leave except for that whole work thing and the occasional trip to Target.


3. I’m not going to get the flu from my toilet anytime soon.

Sometimes Scary

Don't you think it's scary how well you know your kids sometimes?

Last night we were driving home from an outdoor production of Annie and it was way past the kids bedtimes.

About 15 minutes into the drive home, Hubby asks, "How are they doing back there?"

I turned around and looked. "Well, one is sleeping and the other is picking her nose."

Hubby says, "So, you're saying Cupie is sleeping?"

He was right!

Our three-year-old is a classic nose-picker - grosses me out! How do I stop this???


Silver lining:

1. The mostly enjoyed the show, but it was different enough from the movie that they lost interest. We left at intermission otherwise it would have been way, way, way past their bedtime.
2. Stinkles did say she was hungry at one point, I guess she was just being resourceful.

What's With This Heat?

The weather here has turned from rainy & dreary to hot & steamy. The heat index is supposed to be something like 105 – 110 today!!! I’m sure that’s with 100% humidity. I hate it when I walk out of a nice cool building into the blistering heat with a humidity level that makes me feel like I’m drowning.

This kind of heat makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Last night, I was playing Bunco (that’s normal, not a heat induced thing) and heard the wildest story. . .

It was a hot and steamy Sunday morning so the town folk headed over to the church – not because it was hot & steamy, but because it was Sunday. The ladies fanned themselves with their bulletins, the preacher approached lectern quickly (so as to create a breeze within the robe), the men aired their pits by splaying their arms across the backs of the pews, and the children just sat there (it was way too hot to cause any kind of disturbance).

One woman took the hot and steamy thing to a whole new level. All this was actually getting her hot and bothered. And she was going to do something about it.

From the back of the church, this woman started crab crawling across the tops of the pews. Polite as could be, she even said “Excuse me,” as she climbed to the front of the church. By now, everything had stopped and everyone was staring (don’t lie, you would be too).

At the front of the church, the preacher, calm as can be, approached her to see if he could help her with something. To which, she propositioned him. When the preacher turned her down in front of everyone, did she walk away with her head down in shame? I would if I were turned down flat in front of everyone I knew. Nooooo, she proceeded to strip off her clothing in an effort to change his mind!

The authorities were called and she was hauled off to the looney bin.

As I relayed this all to my husband, he just sat there playing on his computer. I wasn’t sure he had heard the story until the end when he asked, “So what church was this at? I’d consider changing religions.”

I wonder if he wants to become a preacher too.

Silver Lining:
1. The woman has been taken somewhere to get the help she needs, be it medication, or a cold shower.
2. It wasn’t me! While I may belong in a looney bin, I don't need to strip off all my clothing for that to become blatently obvious. Besides, NO ONE wants to see me hot, bothered & naked!

Marching to the Beat of Your Own Drummer

As I was driving in to work today, I observed a woman walking. She was in her walking “gear” – t-shirt, shorts, tennies, IPOD. As she was walking, I could see her arms were a flappin’. Then, I saw her head grovin’. She was totally into what ever was on her IPOD, in her own world, power-walking to the beat of some kind of drummer.

I had to giggle to myself because as an outsider, she looked quite ridiculous. I think it’s funny when I bust people doing this in their cars too. I hate it when it happens to me though. Even worse, is if you get busted for speeding while you’re doing it.

This is exactly what happened to my mom many years ago.

We were driving from Mid-America to Florida. Mom had a conference and Sissy & I were going to Disney World! (I’m groovin’ in my chair to that “Goin’ to Disney World” song right now.)

It was Mom’s turn to drive and the driver gets to pick the music – that’s the universal rule for road trips. At the time, her favorite tunes were on the soundtrack to “Phantom of the Opera”. She knew every word, every crescendo. The crescendo is what got her in to trouble.

Song four – “The Phantom of the Opera” – has the lead actress singing couple of measures that kept getting louder and higher in octave each time they were repeated. Mom, envisioning herself as this character, sang right along. With every crescendo, her foot got a little heavier on the gas.

Head tipped back a bit (so she could project) and swaying a bit with each note, she sang and sped her way right past a State Trooper.

Sissy & I saw him as soon as she sped past, but this was too late. He saw us too.

In Macon County Georgia, Officer Slappy (yes, you read the name correctly) pulled my mom over and wrote her a ticket for speeding. Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of “The Phantom of the Opera”.

Silver lining:
1. After all the lectures before the trip about not speeding, Mom was the one busted, not Sissy & I.

2. Mom still likes “The Phantom”, I still like “The Phantom” and my five year old has just discovered “The Phantom” – cool, huh?

River of a Different Substance

Wow, that was Awkward had a nifty tag thing-a-ma-bob going on and it sounds really fun so I shoe-horned my way into the criteria for participating.

I went to the first folder in my picture files and pulled out the tenth picture.

Now, I have to make a post out of it.

My youngest daughter was only 18 months old, and this was her first "active" summer. The year before she was only a lump that rolled over. I guess that would be considered active, but this year was much more fun.

This was the year she learned how to walk, which turned into running really quickly. Running after a toddler, trying to catch them, but at the same time not running them over is a skill they should teach in those child bearing classes. It would go something like this:

Instructor: Well now, wasn't that an interesting video? Take special note of how the doctor was in charge of "catching" the baby.

Video rewind & pause at that special moment
Instructor: You all have only 12 - 18 months after the birth to perfect your catching skills.

Blank stares & open mouths from all the future mommies & daddies.

Instructor: That thing inside you ladies is going to learn how to walk.

Heads nod very slowly.

Instructor: Well, it's going to learn how to run too. You have to catch the child without running him/her over (they're always politically correct like that).

Light bulbs appear and heads nod vigorously.

Apparently, we did not pay attention in child bearing class, nor did we perfect the skill with our older daughter. To avoid the Get-her! I'm-trying-but-I-might-knock-her-out! exchange, we came up with a plan - put her in overall every chance we get! You don't have to grab the actual child, just the "handles"!

You see she is studying the river of bubbles so contently, but that doesn't mean something in the distance couldn't attract her attention a split second later, and off she'd go. Which is exactly what happened - good thing we were one step ahead!

On a side note, she was only 18 months old so she was eating regular foods (like real people), but was wearing diapers. The messes we had to clean up were so foul, we started calling her stinky handles - stinky butt, handles for the overalls. Eventually this got shortened to "Stinkles".

Silver lining:

1. Anytime you, as a parent, can feel like you've got a leg up on the kids is cause for celebration - bubbly all around (and I don't mean the bubbly you blow through a wand).

2. She doesn't know the origin of her nick-name so she doesn't care that we call her that. We're probably dead-meat when she's a teenager. I figure it's just another tool in the parental arsenal to keep the boys away.

By the way, I like the way Wow picked the people to participate. He did the first five odd numbered comments, I'll do the first five even numbered comments (2, 4, 6, 8, 10). Bring on the comments - can't wait to see your pics!

Fit & Active?

Let’s just say I am neither fit nor active by any stretch of the imagination.

However, I rode my bike twice this weekend (once to the farm, once to get an ice cream cone), but now I have bike-butt. Maybe staying inactive was a better choice.

Anywho, despite my general inactive state, I decided to try the “Fit & Active Pepperoni Pizza Pockets”.

Let’s just say, I found out where the “active” part of the name comes from.

The ends of the pocket were hermetically sealed. I was using my handy-dandy plastic knife to cut into it, but I needed something more like a hacksaw. My arm was quite active.

On the first end, I managed to hack my way in. The middle was really good; although, I should have read the package more – it had provolone cheese in it. I don’t like provolone because it sticks to your teeth – yek!

When I got to the other end (yes, I was eating the ends because I was really, really, really hungry), I again attempted to hack my way through. My knife was dull from the cutting of the first end, but I discovered I didn’t have to cut all the way through. All you really had to do was score it, and it would snap off – similar to when you’re trimming a piece of glass or drywall.

Drywall, can you say yummy?

Silver lining:

1. I had some Strawberry Sugar Wafers as a chaser – now that’s yummy!

2. While I was buying the Fit & Active pockets, I managed to buy enough groceries to make three or four dinners - we had eggs & toast for dinner last night because it was the only thing left in the fridge/cupboards (we were even out of cereal).

The Shoe Monster

I got this e-mail from my sister this afternoon and it was just too good to keep to myself. This is straight out of the e-mail - I couldn't have written this story any better myself. (My comments or supplemental information is in white.) This picture is obviously not from the photo studio, but dang, I just had to show off how cute my niece, Lulu, is.

Here's the e-mail:

I have been busy today, on my day off. Went to get Lulu's 1st birthday pictures taken (even though she turned one 2 months ago). Let’s just say I started at 10:30 this morning and I just got home 30 minutes ago (It’s 3:30 now). Oh yea, and I lost one of Lulu's shoes along the way!!

We left the house with her barefoot. I made sure I packed her shoes for the photo shoot. Lulu finds shoes fascinating. On any given day, we can only find 1 shoe out of the set. She likes to move them around the house and put them in different places. We find the other half of the set in her hiding places, like the toy box, the bathroom trash, her highchair, the diaper chest. We as a family struggle every morning trying to find a matching pair of shoes. Lulu is a little stinker.

At the studio, we are on the last outfit change, and what do you know, I can't find the other shoe!!! I thought I was losing my mind, I knew I packed both shoes. I still can't find that damn shoe!!!

Went to the Mills to have her pictures taken and their camera didn't work due to the storm. Had to then drive out to the other Kiddie Kandids 35 minutes away! They only have ONE sitting area. Luckily, the Mills store called ahead of time for me to get me in. We started at 12:00 and pictures were complete by 12:30. Then, we had to wait for others in front of us to finish deciding what pictures they wanted. THEY WERE THERE FOR ANOTHER HOUR!!! My god, really!!!! I already knew want I wanted and what I needed (only took 10 minutes – we both use this photo studio all the time so we’ve got it down to a science)!!! They only had one computer to set your orders on. The family before me was sooo undecided. I wanted to get bitchy and say, "Excuse me, can I just place my order real quick?" But I kept my cool, we know how hard that is sometime- LOL!!!

Silver lining:
1. Lulu was a trooper. She didn't get a morning nap, but she didn't get fussy at the portrait studio. She was very good.
2. She is passed out upstairs right now.

You Ever Have One of Those Days?

Neither the phone nor the shower gods were looking down on my friend Ari recently. In fact, they both conspired against her in order to cause great pain and embarrassment.

Ari was in the shower when the phone started ringing. How many times has this happened to you? Nobody else in the house seems to be answering it. They just assume you’re going to do it even though you just told them ten minutes ago you were going to take a shower.

So what do you do? Let it go to the answering machine (nobody has these things any more, do they? They really should be Smithsonian bound.) or voicemail, right?

Not Ari.

No, she jumped out of the shower & ran for the phone.

Along the way, she tripped over a body pillow lying on the floor, curled her toes (a bit too much it turns out), and ended up sprawled out on the floor.

Neked.

Somehow, she made it to the phone and was able to answer with a guttural, “Hello,” BEFORE it got to voicemail. She must not have let it ring very long before jumping out of the shower. She certainly had time to grab a towel.

Honestly, who did she think it was that she needed to get to the phone right away? The Queen of England, Ed McMahon?

Probably not Ed. He would have shown up at the front door. Can you imagine that? He and the rest of the Publishers Clearing House posse are standing outside her door with that gigantic check and balloons AND a camera. Then, there’s Ari whipping open the door.

Neked.

Her foot was killing her and swelling up. She managed to put clothes and scrounge up one of the not-answering-the-phone folks for a trip to the emergency room.

Once you get to that triage area, the first thing they ask you is, “How did this happen?” Being the type of person she was, Ari told them the whole story. Hello! Lie a little and say you tripped over something like a dead body, not a pillow!

Upon inspection, the doctors told Ari her toe was turning a beautiful shade of purple. First off, since when is anything painful even remotely beautiful? Secondly, she totally had to check it out at home with a mirror because she just not that bendy anymore. Unfortunately, for you all, she didn’t take pictures. Well, maybe it’s fortunate. I’ve never seen her feet. They could be knurled and decrepit for all I know.

Turns out she chipped the bone in her big toe when she tripped over the pillow. How do you break a toe on a pillow? Really, did it have rocks in it? A dead body?

She’ll have to alter her shower routine from now on. She’s got a few options:

• Don’t answer the phone – that’s what voicemail is for.


• Bring a phone into the bathroom – like in fancy hotels.


• Shower in a swimsuit – dual duty (sorta) in that the shower cleans you body and does a bit of laundry.

Silver lining:

1. She willingly shared this story AND watched me make notes in the black book so she can’t be mad at me for sharing.


2. It wasn’t me! :)

One Cool Taco!

My company is celebrating their 300th customer! To celebrate, they had the icecream truck stop by and give us all a free icecream.

I usually go for a fudgecicle, but today the Choco Taco screamed, "PICK ME!"

Not wanting to disappoint, I got a Choco Taco.

As I was riding the elevator to the third floor (didn't want to ruin the yummy-goodness-soooo-not-on-the-diet moment by taking the stairs), I inspected the packaging.

This is what I saw (pay attention to the two circled items on the right):

Glad they cleared that right up!

Silver Lining:

1. It was free!

2. It was good!

3. It was free!