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!

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!