Watch this.. you naughty monkeys!

See this man? Do you know who he is? If you don't know who he is, you should. He is Craig Ferguson, Scottish-born comedian who recently became an American citizen. But more importantly, he hosts "The late late show with Craig Ferguson" on CBS at 12:35am.

Now if you're saying.. AM??? I'm not up that late (and or early). If you're one of those terribly dull folks that goes to bed at 9 or 10pm or so then the whole world of late night talk shows might be a bit fuzzy for you. I'm sure you've heard of Jay Leno and David Letterman... now they are funny mind you but they've been around too long if you ask me. If you commit to staying up an hour later you'll be rewarded with even more hilarious programming.

There's Conan O'Brien (my love before Craig) and then if ya flip it over to CBS you'll find my "Craigy" as I affectionately call him. He is a stinkin laugh riot. His monologues are off the cuff and he goes off on the craziest tangents, all in the greatest Scottish brogue. My hubby and I constantly find ourselves guffawing out loud. Whether he's accusing Bob Barker of being a vampire, talking to his imaginary side kick Davis that appeared one night after he'd been taking cold medicine, or telling you why it's a great day in America, it's all funny. His skits/segments are wacky and he takes email questions from real viewers that just plain rock. He has zany sound effects and calls the audience things like naughty donkeys, cheeky monkeys, filthy pigeons. That's right, I said filthy pigeons. When he talks to his celebrity guests it is not "scripted" like on Jay or Dave.... they start gabbing like old friends and the celebrities really open up and tell you all kinds of things I don't even think they meant to say.

Anyway if you have NOT had a chance to see him I beg you to TIVO him or record him. You will be so glad you did. I will be so glad you did, HE will be so glad you did. As a side note I'm not on any backdoor commission from CBS either... so don't be a naughty monkey and check this guy OUT!

What time is it, Mr. Fox?

So we use to play this game when I worked in a daycare back in high school with the afore mentioned name, a kind of red light green light but a heckuva lot more fun. One person was the "fox" and the others all lined up down field. They group would ask, "what time is it Mr. Fox?" and the fox would answer "three o'clock, or 7 o'clock, or whatever o'clock"... and then everyone would take that many steps towards the Fox. The goal of the Fox was to get everyone close enough to grab them and the group could control how big or little their steps were depending on how scared of the fox they were. Finally they would ask, "what time is it, Mr. Fox?" and the Fox would scream "MIDNIGHT" and then all the kids would shriek and run back to the starting line. The fox would chase and try to catch someone to be the next fox.

So yesterday was a weird day. Easter had passed, spring had sprung, flowers were blooming, then, snow started falling. Later that evening, we lost power. Now we don't live where it snows buckets and you lose power. Our snow is light, minimal, pretty much uneventful. I'm not even sure the power outage was related to the snow. It was about 9pm and we were sitting in the family room with the three girls when the whole place went pitch black. The 3-year-old froze in her tracks, the almost 2 year old grabbed onto my leg, and the 3 month old in my arms had eyes a big as saucers when hubby lit a candle to shed some light into the room. We lit some more candles and soon it was dim enough to make out other objects and people in the room. It's pretty hard to explain to the little ones what just happened. The almost 2-year-old kept saying "TV broken" and pointed the hapless remote at it repeatedly. We turned on the gas fireplace and read bedtime stories at the table by candlelight. It was quite fun actually. Everyone went to bed early since it was so dark.

Everyone had been sleeping a while when the power eventually came back on. I'm a light sleeper and woke up with a start to the sound of David Letterman's voice coming up loudly from down stairs and the lights in the hall on. I went downstairs to turn everything off and I happened to look at the only battery operated clock and noticed the hands were directly on 12:00am. The funny thing was, when you lose power, the clocks always come back on and blink at 12:00 and count up from there, so usually you can tell how long the power had been out. But since the power came ON exactly at 12:00am, the clocks all were blinking 12:00am and continued to tell the right time. When one of the girls woke us up a few hours later hubby noticed his cell said 2:44 and the blinking clock said 2:44 too. I explained the power went back on precisely at 12:00am. He thought that was pretty cool. Now what are the odds of that??!! I felt like saying, What time is it, Mr. Fox?" Then saying "MIDNIGHT", then screaming aahrrhhrhhhh!!!! It's like one minute off either way and it wouldn't of worked. I just thought it was pretty cool to be so exact like that. Plus all those technologically impared people that have trouble setting their digital clocks would for once be perplexed, confused, and relieved all at the same time.

Snail Nail

 So today's a special day... ok not so much "special" as it is an anniversary of sorts. Now if you ask my hubby he'll tell you it's the one year anniversary of us buying a plasma TV. But in actuality, there is another, more horrendous anniversary. One not for the squeamish. Ok brace yourself but this is the one year anniversary of me ripping off my big toe nail. Ouch, right? You ain't jokin. 

It started as a regular day. I was in the middle of my many domestic goddess duties when it happened. I had both kids napping (back when there was only two of them) and the littlest one sleeping in my room. I started a load of baby laundry and remembered I had a few extra stained things soaking in my bathroom sink. My thought was to run in there, grab them still wet, run them to the already running laundry and wash them together. Well I grabbed them just fine, dashed across the bathroom tiles and in mere seconds had slipped on the wet floor and rammed my foot under the 1 inch opening under the bathroom door. Remembering the sleeping baby I bit my tongue to keep from screaming in pain. I was actually writhing and crawling around on the floor thinking I had just broke my big toe. 

After a few minutes of sheer pain I finally sat down to look at my injury. Much to my surprise there was blood everywhere and upon closer examination, my big toe nail was popped up like a car hood (still hinged in the back). UGH! (Shudder) Now What?? What followed at first was a few painful days of hobbling around not even able to wear shoes. After a while I could cover it with some groovy Jesus band aids (donated by a friend and heck I thought it would speed up the healing process) but still no shoes. After that all I could wear for a while was sandals, even though it was early spring and still a bit cold around here.

So how long does it take an adult toe nail to grow back? Slower than you think. My friend's son ripped off his toe nail and I guess it only took a few months to grow back in... for me it took a couple of months for it even to fall off. All summer I had, what I referred to as, a "freak toe" where all the toes had polish on them but one, which didn't even have a nail. Sometimes I considered painting the skin with the polish just so they'd blend in but always decided against that at the last minute. Sure, I was freakish, but not desperate. To make a long story short it is just NOW that I have a full grown toe nail. That's right, it took one whole YEAR to grow back. Now that's some snail nail. In sort of a victory celebration and a simultaneous nod to my Irish heritage I have opted to paint them green for St. Patrick's day. Hey I'm just thankful to have options. Here's to cute toes this summer though...

The best $2.79 I ever spent

 In an age of battery operated EVERYTHING I am a big fan of classic toys. Things that spark imagination and spurn creative play. Before my first child was born I had a gift certificate to babysrus and one of the things I bought was this terrific stack 'um buckets. Who knew then they would be the greatest toy ever to grace the face of the earth? Out of all the toys we have, this one is the most toted around, most knocked down, most played with. Matter of fact the more I think about it they're almost like the "baking soda" of all childhood playthings see here:

So what's up with baking soda?

It's uses have become somewhat endless. Let me name a few:

You can stack them

You can nest them together
You can knock them down
You can hide things underneath them
You can use them in the bath (they have holes in the bottom)
You can put snacks in them
You can use them to count (they are numbered too)
You can make a pyramid
You can use them in a sand box
You can make them hats for small toys and animals
You can put a toy between two of them and make a maraca
You can beat them with a mallet and they become drums

It seems age has no limit to these buckets either. At 6-8 months we would stack them up and they would crawl towards them and knock them down. They would laugh hilariously if we perched them on our or their heads. Some of the more creative uses we've found are, well my children for one particularly like the fabulously LOUD sound they make when you throw them against a hardwood floor. Also they like to "bounce" them down the steps of the stairs in a mad slinky-type experiment gone awry. All this people AND they are dishwasher safe! Could there BE a more perfect toy?! So next time you're shopping for a new baby, or toddler, don't be tempted with that tacky tickle me Elmo, or a modern battery operated rattle... Go get yourself the amazing Stack 'um buckets. You'll be GLAD you did.

Fruit and Meat - an abomination

So I have a little rant here, and I wonder if you can guess what it is? Well if you look to the picture on the right here and say to yourself, "My, what a delectable looking pizza" then you really won't appreciate what I'm going to say next. Fruit and meat. Meat and fruit. Sweet and savory. Repeat after me people, they do NOT belong together. I feel almost as strongly about this as I do about the fact that KFC and Taco Bell should not be available in a single restaurant form.

Now normally I save my blog for more amiable musings however the horridness of mixing fresh fruit and cooked meat in the same dish makes me want to gag. Get that pineapple out of my pizza, get those walnuts and strawberries out of my salad, your apples and raisins out of my stuffing, and for gosh sakes get your stinkin mangos out of my salsa! All I can say is WHAT UP PEOPLE? If you are going to go to all the trouble to heat up fruit then it must be paired with sugar and... let's say a crumble crisp topping for starters. Fruit is naturally sweet and therefore predestined to be enjoyed in dessert or treat form. Mixing it with cooked flesh could be considered in bad taste at best or an abomination at worst. Meat on the other hand is savory. An earthy, scrumptious, canine tearing sustenance. It screams for spices, rubs, sauces, and especially gravy. Why go and muck it up with some poor hapless fruit that would be much better served in a cobbler or pie?

If you are one of those people (and you know who you are) who actually enjoy the aforementioned combination and have no compass of what it tastes like to me, I shall give you an example to best describe it's assault on my taste buds. Remember the episode of Friends where Rachel tries to cook a trifle? The pages of the cook book have stuck together and she accidentally makes half trifle, half shepherds pie? I think the exact layers are, lady fingers, peas, strawberry jam, ground beef. When Joey takes a big bite he declares it "TASTES like FEET". Now you know what fruit and meat do to my pallet. Thank you.

A Golden Boy Comes in Handy

My wedding anniversary is coming up in a few days. It will be seven years. He's the greatest really. Funny, kind, hilarious, eternal optimist, hard worker, the ethics of Gandhi, and the patience of Job. So it's no wonder that he's been given the title of "Golden Boy" by friends and coworkers alike. Things always seem to go his way if you know what I mean. Some have even accused him of living on or under a rainbow. He has a knack for tact and timing. Where I'd jump in and mess things up, he'll wait til just the right time and things will go exactly according to plan (It's almost annoying actually). He's patient too. He's very good at planting seeds in those with authority over him, cultivating them for very long periods of time, and by the time they come to the conclusion he had already engineered out for them they are whole heatedly on board and think it's their idea to boot. Not to mention they feel an teensy bit smarter because of it. It's like "dang that was a splendid idea, so glad I thought of it."

Just this week it was proven again in the form of a free plasma. Heck not only was it free, but they paid him $34 bucks to take it off their hands. How is this possible you ask? Well it's all in the day of the life of a Golden Boy my friend. OK technically it wasn't "free" but pretty close.

We bought a plasma last March (with a 3-year warranty) and last week the analog cable channels and some of the inputs just stopped working. They don't make replacement parts and instead wanted us to bring it in to swap it. Then it turns out they don't carry that particular model anymore (perhaps because it's prone to break in under a year?) so they were going to give us store credit. There was a better brand on sale which we considered upgrading too, but the day he called there were none in stock. He decided to wait (patience again) til Saturday because they told him they might be restocked then. He pops by the store on a whim and someone had returned that same better brand and now it was "open and out of the box" and discounted $300 LESS than ours. So he runs home to rip our broken plasma off the wall and in the 25 minutes it takes to get back to the store they had already sold it. 

Now I'm sure you're like... WAIT a gosh darn minute here. If he's really the "golden boy" like you claim why was it gone when he got there? Well don't worry kids, this of course has a happy ending. Well since our plasma was off the wall and ready for exchange he had to basically exchange it for one in the store. There happened to be another great plasma perfectly new and in the box that would fit us to a "T". Turns out our store credit not only covered the brand new plasma, but the warranty on the plasma was cheaper than our original warranty, so all in all he walked out of the store with a brand new plasma AND $34 bucks in his pocket as they paid HIM the difference. Our new warranty by the way will last til 2011. So we have a year newer TV, an extended warranty, and they PAID us to take it home. Incredible, isn't it? Feel free to shake your head in wonder at the amazing powers of my Golden Boy. I'm just glad he's on my team...

Bag O' Plagues?!?

So I was wandering through Party City today on a reconnaissance mission to scout out Elmo options for my daughter's upcoming 2nd birthday in May, when I happened across one of the oddest things I've seen in a long time. I literally stopped dead in my tracks... dead being the operative word here. 




Across the top was a catchy, albeit, disturbing title...

THE BAG OF PLAGUES. I gasps audibly and looked around to see if anyone had seen it too. I approached with great caution, head cocked to one side, perplexed look on my face. HUH? I looked around with great concern. What section was I in, anyway?? Turns out I was in a small (but interesting) Jewish section for the upcoming passover. Intrigued... I pressed on. What could be more fun than a bag o' plagues? Inside the bag was a treasure trove of wonders I had yet to behold. A sack of suffering if you will... a... oh heck, just check out this picture just so you know I couldn't even begin to make something like this up:



Ok, so let's peek inside and see what you get. Well it's all 10 Biblical plagues (or representations of them in fun learning toy form) that God and Moses rained down on those naughty Egyptians for not letting the Israelite people go. I remember the story well from Sunday school. Each plague got worse and worse until finally the stubborn pharaoh let everyone get out of Dodge. So here's a complete list of what you'll get for your money:



Blood: Fake blood
Frogs: Plastic frogs
Lice: Small black bug
Wild Beasts: Animal finger puppets
Cattle Plague: Cow mask
Boils: Sticky hands with boils
Hail: Plastic ice cube
Locust: Large green locust
Darkness: Sunglasses
Death of the Firstborn: 9-pc. puzzle


My personal favorites? The sticky hands with white boils (cause, you know you want your kids playing with boils), the vial of "blood" (love the disclaimer cause real blood might be straw that crosses this camel into "creepy" land), and of course the giant scary louse. The sunglasses (for the darkness plague) add a nice touch and can be used later for "Risky Business" floor slides and Secret Service make-believe games.

I was so enamored with this little bag of God's wrath that I HAD to share it with my zany friends, so I clicked a quick cell pic of the bag with matching title and sent it off with the caption.. What the?!? A few moments pass and I get an overwhelming response. Where ARE you?? Another wrote, "that's hilarious, but where the hell are you?" I replied... I'm at the passover section of Party City... talk about a fun theme party, my friend. It's not a party til someone cracks open the bag of plagues. Let the death and mayhem begin.

But before you guffaw yourself silly, BEWARE! This is serious Jewish business here. One google of the Bag of Plagues will call up hundreds of sites offering passover "fun" and educational tools that help little kids learn about their faith. Like the passover bag of frogs seen here:

http://www.milechai.com/p/passover-educational-toys.html


I'd like to state for the record here that I'm not at all dissing the Jewish faith. I was just surprised to find such a wonderful little abstract item tucked between the Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's Day party supplies. The more I think about it the more I want to go back and get myself a bag O' plagues. Hey I think the Jews are on to something. Heck more power to them. Especially this time for thinking outside the pox.

When Gallbladders attack...

So up until now, me and most of my internal organs have been getting along splendidly. It's probably the same for you. Heck, if they are working just fine, no one really probably gives them a second thought. Well, a few weeks back, my gallbladder got peeved and decided to give me the what for. This might be on the most part a tiny, understated, rather forgotten organ but when it gets pissed off all hell can break loose. What IS a gallbladder you ask? Well it's this little sac that sits under the liver and stores extra bile for a time when the liver needs a little extra help on digesting big meals. If you are so inclined there's a retired general surgeon that explains it perfectly here:

http://surgeonsblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/rocks-in-bag-what-i-know-about.html

So my attack started as an aching pain in the center of my back which increased in pressure then shot through like a samurai sword to the front of my chest under my sternum bone. From there it got progressively worse and more intense. I felt like my heart was going to explode. I can't even describe the pain really, although most people say it's worse than childbirth. Well I've had three babies and they ain't kidding. That's practically an understatement actually. I literally thought I was going to die. We eventually called 911 (a first time for everything) and I was brought to the ER.

Long story short, I had stones and I had to have it removed. Where did these stones come from, you ask? I guess most people have them. Most of the time they hang out in your innards uneventfully. Sometimes eating a high fat or greasy diet can cause them to crystallize, OR, and this one is ironic, weight loss and a low fat diet can also cause gall stones. It's like, damned if you do... damned if you don't. I just lost 45 pounds this year, while pregnant mind you, and in a slow and healthy way to boot. Then I had baby #3 seven weeks ago. Well turns out having three babies in short succession doesn't help either. Our good buddy "estrogen" (the bitty) likes to contribute to making the stones get harder faster. This is the kind of stuff other people don't tell you and you only find out after you have kids. So this prize combination of winning factors caused my gallbladder to revolt and try and kill me (Well at least it FELT like it was trying to kill me. He really gave it the college try, although I'm still alive and kicking).

So besides my c-section scars I am now sporting a sexy four-hole addition to my mid section. Sometimes I'm afraid to drink water for fear I'll start leaking like a sieve. Luckily they are pretty small and should heal up nicely. Matter of fact medical science is a stinking miracle! Here it's been a week since they removed an ENTIRE organ from my body and I'm pretty much ok. Walking around (with some pain mind you) but not too much worse for wear. It's amazing if you think about it. So that's it for now, but try and be nice to your innards... just in case.

Who's afraid of a Christmas card??

See this pretty Christmas card? Does it frighten you in anyway or cause you to be suspicious of the sender? Does it cause you a panic attack or a sense of anxiety? Well it scares the living crud out of me... but then again I'm warped. I'm so jaded now when it comes to opening simple emails and attachments now a days and it's not even my fault. What pray tell, happened you ask?

OK so maybe six months back I got an email. It had to do with mazes. I love puzzles so I clicked innocently on the site and started maneuvering my mouse through a series of mazes. The instructions said to turn the volume up so I did. About mid way through the third (and progressively difficult) maze the screen changed to a horrific picture of the girl from the exorcist with the green eyes and the loudest scream you ever heard. I literally jumped out of my skin and freaked out...heart pounding and chair rocketed back two feet I could barely click on the mouse to turn the darn thing off. (Darn and I would of won a LOT of money on America's funniest home videos if anyone would of thought to tape me)

I HATE scary movies. I never watch them. I've never seen the exorcist. I've never seen Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Aliens, Saw, Hostel, anything scary. I don't go to haunted houses put on by radio stations. I can't even watch "the rapist" episode (as my sister and I call it) of Little House on the Prairie. Even if I catch a small part of a scary movie or TV show I'll replay that one scene over and over in my mind. My dad use to scare us just for fun growing up. I use to joke with my husband my home growing up WAS a haunted house, so I don't need to visit one voluntarily. I think the one scary movie I did see in a theater was Arachnophobia. What did dear old dad do? Well while we were at the movie he went and put 100 brown plastic spiders all over our house so when we got home we were already jumpy from the movie and come to find "real" spiders all over the place. NICE, right??!! Took weeks for us to find all those little buggers.

So fast forward to this last holiday season. Someone sent me a Thanksgiving email link that played this beautiful holiday table with candles and lovely music. I watched it four feet away from the screen, volume down, and through both hands over my eyes. My husband thought this a laugh riot but I was seriously scared something bad would pop up. During Christmas I got this lovely e-card. It featured an interactive Christmas wonderland where you could click on different parts of the picture and make it snow, light a gazebo, it was very nice. 

I was so scared to click on anything I made my husband do the whole thing first to make sure it was "safe". If someone sends me a video file I cringe and make him look over it first. How stupid is this? But I can't help it... my online trust has been shattered. I'm not quite sure how to get it back. Most people actually find this story funny. Heck you should hear what happened the other day during a pottery barn delivery... ok well nothing happened technically but the potential something in my head was very amusing. I'll blog about that next time. Stay safe out there people.

Disasters... horrors...

This could also be called the "kitty litter clump story"

So I have a disgusting story. It has to do with toddlers, and cat feces. Yum. Still want to listen? OK, but I warned you. So like I said I'm a mom with three girls under three. It can get quite tricky at times making sure they are all happy and well taken care of. My three-year-old, the most clever of the bunch, will actually wait until I am completely indisposed, like feeding the newborn to come up with her most devious tricks, and loves to drag her younger sister in on all the high jinx. Let me tell you she is lightning fast too. By the time that "hey the kids just got too quiet" moment of silence, followed by an urgent sense of panic, it's probably too late.

So in the two minutes it took for me to start feeding the baby, the oldest and the middle child have slipped out of range, down the hall, and have fallen immediately silent. The first time I check on them they are playing nicely in their room. Phew. False alarm. After a few more minutes I notice it has grown quiet again. By the time I set down the baby and walked down the hall to find them (literally a two minute window we're talking) they have made their way into the bathroom. They have uncovered the top lid of the kitty litter tray and the 19 month old is playing with the poo and litter like it's a sandbox. Litter and chunks are all over the bathroom floor. What's the three-year-old doing you ask? Well she's smearing/spreading litter on the middle child's head... and in the mean time has also pooped her pants. It's takes a good 15 seconds for me to absorb the horrible scene before my eyes before I start shouting NOOOOOO! Where does one start? The poo on the floor? The 19-month-old covered in litter? The 3-year-old with the poopy diaper with the proud triumphant grin?

I start with the most mess, which happens to be my usually sweet middle child. I try to brush off as much loose litter as possible then strip her naked and run the bath. After putting her in the water I immediately try to rinse out some of the litter from her hair. Instead of washing away it begins to clump and cling harder to her head! I realize now (two seconds too late) that litter is formulated to CLUMP when WET. Uh-oh. Now there are huge chunks of litter stuck to her hair and head. GROSS. 

I try a comb to scrape it out... no luck. Finally I find a nail-scrub type brush and start to rub the litter out of her scalp. It finally starts to break apart and the bath water turns an eerie gray color. After what seemed like forever her head started to look like regular ol' wet hair again. I drain the tub, put in fresh water, then give her bath number two. By then the newborn is crying so I hurriedly get the 19-month-old dressed, change the 3-year-old poopy diaper, and rush down the hall to feed the baby. I didn't even have time to clean up the bathroom, just left the poop and litter all over the place and closed the door behind me. Matter of fact I didn't even venture up stairs for the rest of the day.Later that night that turned into a little present for daddy when he got home. Ah the joys of parenting... I think I need a vacation, um and it's only January.

Happy 2008!

So I only have a few moments to myself here to welcome you to 2008! You see I'm the busy mother of three girls under three. Yes I'm crazy, yes I'm fertile, yes as I'm typing this I'm afraid that it just suddenly got quiet in the next room and all manner of disasters could of occurred with the oldest two even though they are 20 feet away and within earshot. OK, I'm back. False alarm. The oldest one has crawled into the crib with the middle one and they are singing and jumping. Hey at least they are self contained.

So even though I really love blogging the actual odds of getting to chance to do it are slim to none. Well if the planets aligned and the gods looked favorably on me (thus in that maybe 2/3 of them were napping) then I might jump in here to share a wacky story or two, then of course I will. Probably the time would be better spent grabbing a bite to eat or going to the bathroom or throwing the laundry in the dryer but alas I must make time for ME too... right?

Anyway hello to you my blog, my sanity, my 2 minute escape. I hope we can continue to entertain each other. HAPPY NEW YEAR

Broke Bink Mountain

So recently my husband and I tried out a new fun hobby. It's called, break your three-year-old from using a pacifier. Now I know not every kid gets addicted to "the bink", I'm sure there are many mommy nazis out there who say it's a crying shame to even give one to your kid in the first place. Well in my defense I can totally blame a random labor and delivery nurse for introducing a bink to my newborn whilst I was recovering from a C-section. She appeared literally at 2am and whisked the baby away for a check up, shots, and whatever else they needed to do (my guess was just to torture and wake up the tired mommy, but I digress). When my daughter returned she was happily quiet, wrapped up like a burrito, and sucking on a newborn pink bink. She looked content and sleepy so I thought, what the hay.

Flash forward three years later and my little one was still totally addicted to that thing like nobody's buisness. We had tried (unsuccessfully I might add) to rid ourselves of the bink at earlier times, but it never did quite work. After reading up on some parent tips online and watching a few episodes of the super nanny we felt armed enough to try it again.

After a few years, we were left with only three binkies when my hubby started plotting their demise. First he cut the tip off of one and left it where she would find it. She came over with the saddest little face and said, mama, my bink broke and proceeded to immediately throw it away! We looked at each other with surprise... was it going to be this easy?? Should we have done this years ago? Ah not so fast. She instantly found the second bink and popped it in her mouth. A few days go by and we actually lost the seond pink bink... and then there was just one. A few more days pass and we decide this will be it. Snip goes the tip and we give each other the look like, now there's no turning back and we're screwed. About 15 mintues later she finds it, does another sad face (the saddest ever) says, my bink broke, and tosses it away. Now we wait (in panic mode) as night approched, wondering what would happen when she asked for it.

Now I'm not going to lie, that first night she had trouble falling asleep. She recanted the story of her bink breaking and throwing it away, and I think she finally crashed at 2am. But seriously, the next day, she didn't even ask for it. We were so shocked! It's been a week now and she is totally free from the bink. Success! Well sort of. Now that she's off the bink it must of given her extra thinking time to figure out other clever things like how to crawl out of her crib and climb the safety gate to downstairs, unlock the front door... but that's another blog...

Disaster Updates

So you're probably sitting on the edge of your computer chair, wondering if we ever did manage to get that double blue smurf stain out of the carpet... so I thought I'd give you an update: The short answer is Yes, and Hallelujah. The first stain came out great. The second stain, thanks to the power of prayer, elbow grease, tireless effort, and the miracle wonder that is Oxyclean is also completely gone! Also we've learned to toss an old towel over the new shop vac so any exhaust can still get out, just not back onto the carpets. ALSO, if you are a shop vac company shouldn't there be a very large warning on the box stating that giant exhaust spray might shoot out the back of the machine?? I cringe to think if we had been cleaning up vomit... does that mean a fine 3-foot mist of vomitness would spray out over the carpet? Yikes and yuk. My husband did say in the small print there is a small warning about that, but I think they should opt for a large yellow and orange disaster warning type sticker so at least you know what you're getting into. Do all shop vacs do this? Our is this just a special feature of ours? Looking back so far we are still not to the point to find the blue paint stain hilarious yet, but just yesterday I think I saw my husband smirk when he read my blog about it.
Secondly, the extra tickets... what did I do with them you ask? Well I attempted my first ever Ebay sell. (I buy sometimes, just not sell). To my shock they went for double the starting price! (I listed them at the price I paid for them just hoping to get my money back) Visualize me now waving peace signs with my fingers over my head and in my best Nixon voice saying "I am not a scalper". Plus we know what Jesus does to scalpers. Apparently Hannah freaking Montana is the hottest thing since sliced bread and I just happened to ride her gravy train all the way to the bank by purely random coincidence.
Oh and the room. It turned out so NICE. It has the peaceful crisp/clean look about it. I still have to add some finishing touches, but all in all I am very happy with all the trouble it was to implement such an overambitious project. That's all for now. More later.

Big ambition = Big messes

 So I don't know if you've ever been six months pregnant and you get that crazy urge that some people refer to as "nesting" but I've got it... and I've got it bad. With that said we (and when I say "we" I mean "me", who then eventually talks hubby into it) decided to make over my bedroom. Our new recent obsession is Santorini Greece. The place looks like heaven. Perched high atop a 400 ft mountainous cliff at the rim of a dormant volcano surrounded by the ocean. This Greek white washed village with ocean blue domes can only be reached by gondola or pack mule. We decided to do our room in these colors (ultra white, blue trim, sky blue ceiling with clouds), which is quite ambitious seeing that we have this large room with a high vaulted ceiling, I'm 27 weeks pregnant, and afraid of heights to boot.

Now we're no painting novices. We've done seven other rooms in our house without a minor mishap. Light colors, bold colors, sponge painting, rag painting, you name it. Home Depot could hire us out practically. Now besides being a major decorative challenge we add into the mix a curious cat, a 2 1/2 year old that likes to "help", a climbing 16 month old. Are we CRAZY, you ask? Probably. Plus, you'd think it'd be one of these suspects to be responsible for some kind of a mess causing ruckus, but alas you would be wrong.

So we started with the bright blue trim around the doors and the indented frame in the wall above our bed. The name of the paint was "Mary's Robe" blue, which I thought was a good omen. How could you go wrong painting with the favorite color of the mother of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? The other color we were looking at was called "Filth"... ok actually it was called Firth, but the other made us laugh harder. Most of the trim is done and we are about to move onto the sky blue ceiling. As we move the huge drop cloth over the bed and move the ladder, the entire tray of blue paint unbeknownst to us caught on the edge of the plastic and flipped over like a pancake onto the light beige carpet. We of course didn't discover it for a good 5 minutes when I looked down and gasped in panic. I lifted up the tray to find a GIANT 1 ft radius smurf blue stain on the carpet over 1 inch thick. I felt like throwing up.


Ironically only days before we had talked of buying a shop vac, but at the time had decided to wait. That was the wrong decision. So hubby takes off to buy a shop vac and I try to clean up what I can. Soon he is back and we set up the vac, get out some detergent and oxiclean and turn the bad boy on. To my surprise... the stain starts to come out! As we both watch the blue paint come up we get very excited. Suddenly, hubby says.. I'm getting wet! We turn around to find that there is a huge exhaust spray (blue of course) coming out the top of the shop vac, covering hubby and everything behind him in a 3 foot radius. So now we have stain number 1, which is coming up, and a very large stain number two now soaking in to the carpet. Grrrr. Needless to say it put our paint project on hold for hours as we tried to get the paint up. Two days later the original stain is totally gone, but the secondary stain (which must have gone down into the padding) keeps coming back. At the time I was like, honey, will this be something that's funny later? He's like... I sure hope so. So far we're still waiting.

Covered in Poo, Paste, and Cookie Crumbs...

This blog could also be called, "Jesus doesn't like scalpers". See this gigantic pile o' animal cookies? Well it's from a Costco sized vat (newly opened) that fell from the kitchen table and spread in a 10-foot radius all over my hardwood floor. This is the picture AFTER I had cleaned it up mind you. Who knew over 2000 cookies could make a 1-inch layer of mess over your entire kitchen, with your 2 1/2 year old marching in her bare feet just to hear the terrific crunching sound it makes. All while your 15 month old who has climbed up onto the table, knocked over a cup of water, and is smearing a nice thick paste of smashed cookies all over the table like some paper mache project gone awry. Oh and their both poopy to boot.

How did this happen, you ask? Well technically I could blame that monopoly Ticketmaster. So after the story below where I botched the presale, the sale to the general public was Saturday. My sis had got 2 tickets for the concert by going to an actual location, where I had bombed out again at home. After she noticed how high the tickets were selling on the black market she calls me and suggests the San Antonio concert is about to go on sale in a few minutes, will sell out in minutes, and maybe we should try to buy more tickets because she has "tons" of mom friends that will drive the extra miles to go to a sold out concert.

So I got the girls downstairs all ready for the 5 minutes I'd be strapped to the computer. They had snacks (cookies obviously), sippie cups, their favorite kid songs show in the DVD player and were sitting nicely on the couch whilst I raced upstairs to try and buy the tickets. Bam I got right in and just bought whatever the hell they offered me (crap seats at expensive prices) and wouldn't you know it, but I GOT them?! Sweet. I print out the receipt and call my sis in sweet victory while heading downstairs. When I approached the kitchen the above scenario is what I found. We weren't even planning to sell them on eBay at outrageous prices or anything, just to mom friends dying to go to a sold out concert. When I saw the mess I thought to myself... Jesus doesn't like scalpers. Wow imagine the mess if he ever went after Ticketmaster...

Ticket Bas$%*ds

Capitalism is alive. Capitalism is well. Capitalism is breaking the hearts of little 9 year old girls everywhere.

So it's been a few years since I had to use Ticketmaster (well call it TM for short - or should that be TB?). Heck most of the concerts I've been to were more of a first come first serve basis where you camp out and the earlier you get there, the better your seat. I was recently drafted for a mission from my dear sis to play the role of "super aunt" and help procure Hannah Montana tickets for my niece. She was a member of the fan club and had a presale password to buy tickets before they went on sale to the general public. Since I'm an online wiz I took her up on the challenge and the second the presale started I was clicking away. The presale tickets sold out in literally seconds, with the only offerings being the nose bleed sections with the most expensive ticket price of $66 per ticket. (tickets were suppose to be $25 - $70). Thinking my sis wouldn't want to pay that much I didn't buy them at the high price and sadly I had failed my cute lil niece. I felt jipped.

I started researching complaints about TM/TB and found they are one GIANT monopoly. They control 90% of all large venues and 79% of smaller ones. If you want to go to ANYTHING you will have to go through TB. They have jacked up the prices but 30-40% after the ticket price with mysterious "fees" like the "convenience fee", the "facility charge", and of course taxes and shipping fees. They offer the worst seats first it seems, and come to find out they sell most of the medium to good tickets to ticket brokers (aka professional scalpers) who then jack up the prices to outrageous levels, with one ticket costing hundreds of dollars.

So the day of the "public" sale comes today and my sis decides to go TO an actual TB store in person to get tickets. I am recruited to try the online version again from another state at the same time to see if one of us can get them. This time we luck out. Well I don't, they offered me the very last row in the very back of the arena for $50 a pop. I think, I'll refresh and try something better. Nope. 20 seconds in they are sold out. My sis calls and says she was able to get 2, and her friend got 2 as well. All the tickets are near each other.. would you think they costs the same?? Well you'd be wrong.

My tickets: nosebleed near last row: $50 

Her friends tickets: nosebleed near the last row $60 

My sis's tickets: nosebleed near the last row $40

Now remember my nosebleed tickets at the presale I didn't buy: $66

Remember people that's the price BEFORE taxes, and about $17 in fees PER ticket

Is there any rhyme or reason to these prices? Wouldn't tickets on the floor be the most expensive around the $70 level and the nosebleeds be at the $25 price? A quick check on eBay and Craigslist shows that even these now crappy seat tickets are selling for $200 a ticket. This is crazy, what 9 year old girl and her mom can afford a $400 concert?

A few popular music bands have tried to sue TB as a monopoly. They have slowly been buying up smaller ticket sellers until there are none left. They can charge what they want, back door sell to scalpers, promise tickets together that when you get them are not together but they are not refundable (even if it is their mistake), and make a HUGE profit in the meantime. Heck I'm not against profit.. I'm against gouging the general public out of their hard earned cash. Even big sports teams have tried to sue them with no success. They cannot be stopped. They say absolute power corrupts absolutely. They ain't kidding.

Here's a link to consumer complaints against TBhttp://www.consumeraffairs.com/entertainment/ticketmaster.htm

The burning... the itching...

OK, so you know what hurts? A sunburn. You know what itches even more? Hives. You know what really really hurts and itches like a mofo??... A sunburn, COVERED in hives. That's what I've got right now. It is taking all my will power not to stop typing and scratch myself to death.

It started innocently enough. Went to the zoo, got a surprise sunburn around my chest, neck and shoulders. Matter of fact the shirt I was wearing was a scoop neck on both sides so when the burn showed up that night it was like a bright red collar or native-type head dress both front and back. The next day I went over to my parents and my mom recommended a "save a tan" lotion that turned out to be the start of my demise. Shortly after I put it on my skin started to mildly itch. I figured it was part of the sunburn. By the time I got home it was a very intense itch and a rash had started to form.

So then I decided to play "home apothecary detective" to sooth the itch. Um. This turned out to be a bad idea. First I tried Noxzema to cool the burn, but the itch got so intense I decided to try some Gold Bond medicated itch lotion, which dulled the itch long enough to allow me to fall to sleep, but I smelled like the little old lady from Pasadena. At this point I have 3-4 different lotions on my poor skin, and my clever and sarcastic sis thought I should perhaps marinate is some teriyaki as well. At 4am I awaken from a dead sleep with the most painful burning sensation, like I literally want to rip my skin off. One check in the mirror and I've got raised welts and hives all over my sunburn. I had to jump in a freezing cold shower to help relieve the pain, but oh MY it was COLD, so now I'm wide awake. 

Then I decided to call a phone nurse ("nursing consultant" I was informed by the PC hospital operator) to see what I can take (since I'm 20 weeks pregnant to boot). She told me to try white cider vinegar to sooth the itch. That one made me cock my head to the side but she told me not to worry. So downstairs I go to find out that I have only apple cider vinegar. Well heck it's the only vinegar I have so I'll try a little bit.

So now I'm sitting here with welts, red native collar, rash, sunburn, hives, pain, smelling like an old lady who just dyed a butt load of Easter eggs and still not sure what to do. I bid you soothing relief... hope I can find some myself

The scariest 30 feet...

My little 2 1/2 year old is getting so big. Talking up a storm, learning new things every day, makes me think it won't be long before she's out the door for kindergarten, grade school, high school, prom, college, moving out... and I can't even fathom right now sticking her on a bus in a few years and saying "see you at three"... makes me queasy just thinking about it.

So my siblings and I use to live right around the corner from our grade school. We were labeled "walkers" (aka nerds) and the closest we ever got to the inside of the school bus was the occasional field trip. Looking back now we were probably the lucky ones, living so close to home, not having to deal with any extra bully troubles, but at the time we thought we were somehow getting jipped out of something fun. The one plus side to the deal was that we did get giant whiffs of the diesel fumes as the buses zoomed by our house, which I have to admit I still rather like to this day.

Now my sister and I use to walk home together, and from the corner of the school's cyclone fence to the closest corner of my parents yard was literally like 20-30 feet. This mind you was in a quiet little peaceful neighborhood where nothing scary ever really happened. We however thought this the most terrifying stretch of road anywhere in the continental United States. We had been warned as most kids to not talk to strangers, and forced to watch a couple of cheesy after school specials about stranger safety... but with a dad that liked to spook us all the time and caused great panic just for fun made our active little imaginations believe that any car, bike, mail truck, ice cream truck, and especially "rapist vans" were out to get us. (You know, rapist vans, the kind that have no windows or doors except maybe the back that look all beat up - you better run like crazy if you see one of them).

So we would start at the corner gate and would first look in every direction for cars. Then we would book it as fast as our little legs would carry us (in complete terror mind you) to our parents yard, through the tree line, over the bark, leap over the shrubs, to the safety of the front door. This was a daily ritual, I'm sad to report.

It makes my husband laugh so hard now when I tell him of our running, since he's seen the shortness of that stretch of road and it's literally a stone's throw away. Now at first today when I was thinking of how scary it would be to put my future little 5-year-old on a bus and wave goodbye... Now I'm thinking hey maybe it's a very good thing she's not going to be a "walker"

Which way to the library??

So this little sign always cracks me up whenever we venture over to my husband's home town of Covington. Simple in it's message of course but it made me wonder if it might be a touch too simple?

Now if your looking for that place that holds all dem books with all da learnin' in them, then you've come to the right place. Looky here Ma, there's a person with an open book and an arrow pointing you in the direction of said person or book. In my fourth denominational thinking (as my dad so calls it) I picture a small video in my head where the camera rolls past this sign to three or four people sitting slightly off to the right of the sign holding books in the same pose. But if the average Joe uses their super-sleuthing deducing skills, I believe this sign will lead them to the local public library.

Here's my beef with this sign. If you're on your way to the library, shouldn't you know how to read the words "library"?? Do you really need a picture of someone reading a book to know where you need to go? And if you can't read the word "library" then maybe you shouldn't be going there in the first place.

Then this made me wonder about other signs. What if the restroom door signs with the male and female symbols on them were replaced with pictures that depicted what goes on behind closed doors? Is it only then people would know what to do in there?

I say this library sign is a slap in the face of our collective intellect. They say a picture is worth a thousand words... but in this case a picture is worth just one, the word "library". But it also has a very loud invisible parenthesis following that shouts (DUMB ASS)! It screams: "You're too stupid to read the word library, so we're going to SHOW you". Then hopefully you can follow the arrow to the correct building and get yourself some "edjumacation", you stupid ignorant prick. Hey is that sign yelling at me? Golly I love this country.

The Plasma Chain Reaction

OK, so hubby's been researching, and prepping, and shopping for plasmas for 6 months now. Finally the one he wanted went on sale and he brought it home. So I'm like plasma.. what's the big deal? But after we got it home and I saw the difference between regular and plasma well it's like night and day. Apparently I'm an HD snob now. LOL

Anyhoo.. he didn't just get any ol' plasma. He had to get a BIG one. This stems back to his childhood when his family always had the newest and biggest technology in the neighborhood. All the kids would come over and watch movies on their 6 foot projection TV in the 70's. They were the first ones to own a VCR on the block.. you get the picture.

Little did he know he would set off a huge chain reaction of events - filling our evenings with painting, moving large furniture, buying new furniture, and basically rearranging our whole lives....

Well this big ol' plasma does not fit in our current entertainment center, designed for lowly regular televisions. Oh did I mention we have 9 remotes? That's because we have 9 different VCR's, DVD's, laser discs, stereo stuff, record player, you name it. We're not super rich or anything.. just things he's collected over the last 20 years. (We work in TV so he loves techy stuff)

So I have this huge wall entertainment center that I have to get rid of.. well I think hey, I will make this an armoire dresser for my room that doesn't have enough storage anyway. The small dresser we have I will repaint for the girls room.... so this is the list of things now we are doing.

1. move and paint old dresser to match nursery
2. disassemble entertainment unit and move piece by piece upstairs
3. reassemble it as a bedroom armoire
4. go through all the closets/clothes and reorganize everything
5. paint all the walls in the family room
6. Buy a new armoire/audio cabinet to hold all the equipment
7. Assemble it and load up all the equipment
8. Hire our electrician friend to hide all the wires in the wall
9. Mount our surround sound speakers and hide wires in the wall
10. Rearrange the bookshelf to new room configuration (and all the stuff on them)
11. Buy plasma wall mount and hook it to the wall
12. Go to the dump to get rid of old machines, equipment, boxes... the works
13. Finally enjoy our new room

(this is all while a 2 year old and a 10 month old "watch" and "help"... YIKES

Anyway, I thought it funny that one purchase would change our whole lives and the look of our house!

Big belts and crappy hair

What's UP with fashion today? I've never been a trend maven, but I've been noticing the 80's are creeping back into the main stream and it's worrying me a bit. A few months back I was shocked, nay perplexed that stirrup pants and leggings were making a come back. I couldn't help but flash back to my absolute favorite outfit in 7th grade: White stretch pants, white loafers (no socks), over sized hot pink with white polka-dot shirt, with matching earrings and don't forget the banana clip). Another crazed 80's trend making a come back was mini skirts over the top of black leggings. Don't forget to slash up your sweatshirt to wear on top of that and about 50 Madonna bracelets on your left arm...

So I'm not opposed to belts, of course I haven't worn one since maybe the third grade (and it was rainbow, thank you). I've noticed all these wacky belts EVERYWHERE. They're not just for holding up pants anymore, and they are not for wearing around your waist for that matter. No these belts are HUGE, cover up your entire rib cage, start at your hips and sit up under your boobs. WHAT?? They make you look like you've been severed in half and held together with strips of buckles and leather.

  

Then there's the hair. I can't stand it. Technically it's probably more 70's hair than 80's... and MEN are the surprising culprits. It's way too long. Then it flips up on the sides in that ever so metro sexual way. It looks dirty, it looks unkempt, it looks like they rolled out of bed. Spikes I can handle, tousled I can handle, but stringy dirty mops... yuk. Hey I thought Justin Timberlake was gonna bring sexy back... well I'm still waiting JT. My hubby laughs at my solution when I see a gent with ugly tresses... I want to KICK it off their head. 



Oh and don't even get me started on Senjaya from AI, his hair gets girlier every week. I don't want to kick it off as much as I want to pour acid on it and rub it off with an old towel.

That's all for now

Mine Eyes!

So I don't know if you remember this picture or not... but it's the most hilarious picture ever taken at Disneyland. In all reality it was snapped at the exact time a large fireworks display was going off, however it looks like good ol' Walt and Mickey are leading their followers into an atomic bomb blast for a mass suicide.

I was reminded of this picture this morning when I went into my bathroom. We have one of those double sink counters with large mirror and at the top is a panel of lights. Now for the last three years they've been slowly burning out but we haven't been replacing them. I totally got use to the dimness in there and when I noticed we were down to one bulb I thought well heck, it's time to break down and buy some bulbs. So I went to the store and bought two 3-packs of bulbs and headed home. Well turns out they were 60-watters... EACH. I suppose the old bulbs must of been 40-watters so when I flipped on the switch I wasn't just getting 240 watts, but rather 360 watts! All at once. Coming from a darkened bedroom it was like I had entered the surface of the sun. It took me a full minute to stop squinting! It was like Jesus was coming back. Anyway, I was reminded of the picture where Walt tried to take us to heaven with him and it made me laugh. Thought I'd share.

Get your freaks here...

So here's another great sign from www.engrish.com. Apparently all the freaks in Japan are 75% off now, which I think is a great bargain. Matter of fact now that it's February, the month of Love... or month of "Lub" as my husband calls it, it's time to reminisce about those terms of affection we call our significant other.

If you settle for the mainstream you're probably use to hearing the basic sentiments, like honey, darling, and dear. Then there's the super sweet terms that are mostly reserved for the newlywed set, like sweetie, honey lamb, sugar pie, sweet cakes. If you're marriage is on the rocks you might go with the more gruff "hey you", or "yo jerk" or "hey loser". Or if you're marriage has lasted over 50 years you probably just resort to a series of grunts.

Now hubby and I have two sets of terms of endearment. One is cutesy cutesy and the other is of our own making. OK, so the cutesy one goes like this. I call him honey bunny and he calls me sweetie peetie. (I know, gag). The other sentiment we use is short, practical, and to the point... sort of like a verbal shorthand. I call him freak and he calls me leech. To the outside listener this might sound a bit harsh, but freak has become a term of affection in our house. If you are deemed a "freak" consider yourself in fine company. Our definition of freak is someone who is an original, an evil genius, someone who does something so off the wall, you're impressed. Then there's "leech". Normally a blood sucking worm-like creature but in the hands of a loving relationship it becomes a term that means loyal, steadfast, and "I can't live without you".

It makes me wonder what other couples are calling each other? Feel free to add your own endearments in the comment boxes. I can't wait to hear everyone's nicknames for each other. So enjoy this season of "Lub" (that's lub and not lube), oh wait, maybe it's both...? and, oh yeah... you're a freak!

Feeling Blue?

They say that January is the month where people are most likely to feel blue. Bills piling up from over spending at Christmas, the lousy weather, the days still being too short, and realizing you haven't been faithful to even one of your New Years resolutions can make some people feel depressed.

January is also a big month for travel, especially around here. Everyone wants to get away from the cold weather and January is the perfect month to jet somewhere tropical... like my friend here. Now it's a known fact that people don't get a lot of sun up in the NW. So if you're going somewhere warm, you might want to get in a few tanning sessions before you go, so you're skin is use to the sun rays and won't fry like a big ol' slab of bacon. Like Conan O'Brien says of his pale Irish skin... "I wear sunblock 50... it actually shoots rays back up to the sun".

This funny pic was sent to my cell phone by my friend... FROM her tanning bed! She had removed her sexy mini eye protectors and exposes her bare corneas to the gamma rays (or whatever rays are used in tanning beds) just for my sole amusement. Quite frightening, don't you agree? For some reason I just can't stop looking at it. I like how her blond hair looks fright white, how the whites of her eyes look pink... she's a cross between Violet from Willie Wonka and a blue man group blow up doll. So after seeing this picture maybe you're just too scared, amused, or distracted now to be depressed. You're welcome.

The olfactory marking method

So I've noticed something lately... there's more than one way to claim your territory. If you're "the Donald" then you can opt for the super obvious and just name everything after yourself. Trump water, Trump Towers, Trump golf course, Trump; the toilet paper (you know it's coming). But if you're clever, there's a new sneaky way to mark something as yours... using only your nose.

I used to work for a certain maker of airplanes. Everyone there seemed to look the same after a while; the ubiquitous middle aged man, slightly out of shape, balding a bit, wearer of glasses. Most contained no obvious scent (thank goodness). However there was this one engineer who would come update computer programs and GOLLY he smelled good. He smelled exactly like a big ol' pile of super fresh clean laundry. I realized right away that no man would smell like this on his own and I supposed this was his wife's sly way of letting the other ladies he worked with know that he was taken. I quick glanced down at his ring hand confirmed my musings. Wow... what a neat trick.

I didn't have to look much further than my own mother for a confirmation of this tricky trend. It must be something written in the secret grandma handbook, because no matter how clean my children are when they go to grandma's house, they come back smelling different. I could send them in crisp clean clothes, with a diaper bag full of clean replacement clothes, and by the time I get back they've had baths, and everything's been washed. We're talking clothes, blankets, jackets, hats... the works. If she could wash the disposable diapers, she would. Now I'm thinking either this woman really really misses doing laundry for 4 kids, OR, she is secretly marking her grand kids with her own scent...(diabolical). Maybe it's letting the other grandma's know these babies are hers. Maybe she's letting me know she's still the alpha female of the pack. Whatever the case the new scent is there, it's strong, and by golly it's quite deliberate.

So the next time you're not sure who is whose... just take a whiff around. The answer might be right under your nose.

Small Children and Dogs... a resolution story

Ok, so it's a new year. Happy 2007 by the way. Of course everyone's into those pesky resolutions, which most predict won't last but for two weeks at the most. There's the goal to lose weight, the one to get in shape, the one where you try to be nicer to people (that means you, Rosie and Donald), and the one where you try to be a better person.

One of my hilarious friends (mother of three with a super active sassy four year old son she'd like to possibly return to sender) sent me a most amusing text when I sent her one wishing her a happy new year. It simply said:

Happy New Year.  
My resolution is not to kick small children and dogs.

Ha. Now THAT'S a resolution. None of this world peace or lose weight, but one biting wish that must of come after one very long day of mothering. Matter of fact I locked that text in my inbox, so I could read it whenever I needed a good chuckle. Now of course I could resolve to blog more this year (which I will), and lose weight (which I hope), and resolute not to break these resolutions (ironic), but also maybe to resolve that I don't have to wait until I have some hilarious picture to share and the writing has to perfect before I blog. Maybe I can just lay it all out on the table, as is, imperfect and sometimes painfully funny. So small children and dogs stay out of my way... I'm gonna Blog BIG in 2007!

That's gotta be SOME Bee!

So I found this sign over at my new favorite website, www.engrish.com and I guffawed out loud. You see, I'm terrified of bees. Am I allergic? No. Almost wish I was though cause then I'd have an excuse for running and screaming across the room. Perhaps it stems from the fact that my practical joke father use to kill bugs and then chase us down the hall with them smashed in a paper towel. After a while he'd just have to crumple up a paper towel and chase us with that, no bugs in sight. Well this reminded me of a couple funny bee related stories.

Let's see, well I once heard my ultra conservative and sweet mother utter her first swear word in my presence due to a bee. We had been picnicking at a park full of yellow jackets when one had apparently dug it's way into the sexy orange tweed car seat cover in our butterscotch van with the large side pipes. As we were driving out of the park it stung her on the behind and she said a word starting with SH** and swerved all over the road. Us kids were shocked and awed that day.

Another time on one of our famous family camping trips, my sister and I were sitting quietly in the first row of seats, listening to Olivia Newton John on the 8-track when all of the sudden (in the days before AC and the windows were all open) a monster of a huge bee (it was very large, and orange and black, though no one believes me now) flew in the front window and right between us. Simultaneously and with the grace of synchronized swimmers, we both threw our heads towards the middle of the car and screamed, both hitting each others head with such force that we almost knocked ourselves unconscious. We get mocked to this day over that story.

Just recently my hubby of 5 years got to see some bee fear in action. He really didn't know of my phobia and we were all getting into the car. About 2 feet in front of us was a little creek running though some property. We all get buckled in when I hear a buzzing down by my door. I look just in time to see a yellow jacket stuck inside the car. I flip out and start screaming, I threw my head into my husbands lap, lay sideways in my seat, and tried to kick open the door and unbuckle my seat belt at the same time. He had no IDEA what was happening and almost drove our car into the creek. 

Finally I get untangled, open the door, and start running. The bee flew out and I get back into the car. His adrenaline was pumping, I had freaked him out and he was now MAD. The step kids in the back seat were mad. As we pulled down this long driveway it was deathly silent and I could feel glares at the back of my head like heat rays. Suddenly the madness wore off and almost at the same time everyone burst out laughing. I felt totally stupid... but sheepishly told them of my irrational fear of bees. Anyway, so when I saw this sign I started to worry what kind of BEE would need a sign like that?! Makes ya wonder. I'm staying clear of Japan just in case.

I'm back... and I've brought weapons!

OK so I've been away for awhile. My little one (the mini acrobat) gleefully ran off a kitchen chair a few weeks back and broke her arm, so I've been distracted with all the trauma that goes along with an injured child. Now that she's on the mend I'm feeling much more like writing again. I apologize for the hiatus and promise more fun stories and pictures. Speaking of which, I must share with you my favorite picture from a Halloween a few years back...



At first you must be saying to yourself, WOW, that must of been SOME party. Especially considering the fact that there was no alcohol involved. I love this picture for the fact that you can just stare at it and try to make some kind of story about it. Let's break it down.

Well at first you might see the poor hapless teenager who goes by the common name of "Jenny" (written on her skirt). I happen to know for a fact that this is not her name, so she's assuming the identity of cheerleaders every where with a name they can relate to.
That's Jenn with TWO n's 

She's not looking at her ever present attacker, but smiling slyly for the camera. Then there's chick wearing the heart on her head. She smiles knowingly as something bad is about to happen. Love IS blind, they say... here they mean it literally.

Then we've got a bee type character off to side. Hey, there's always bee's around pooh as he searches for honey. Then, the more obvious characters. There a very randy Austin Powers taking it all in - with what appears to be at least 3 gym socks in his trousers. He's quite out of place for this picture, but makes it all the more interesting. Lastly, we have Pooh. Beloved storybook character from yesteryear. However as we can see, pooh is on a mission. Pooh looks beYOND annoyed and has found a machete somewhere in the 100 acre woods and is wielding it around in a chopping-like fashion at on lookers. Has the cheerleader done something to deserve this, or has pooh gone mad? Either way it makes for one GREAT picture.

I'm not crazy - I just look it

So I thought I'd share with you a nice little short story from yesterday. I spent most of the day playing with my almost 2 year old daughter and taking care of her little 3 month old sister. The baby was napping and the toddler and I were have a rousing game of peek-a-boo using a blanket. She was having a blast and would throw the blanket over her head and walk around like E.T. in the Halloween scene. I would peek underneath the blanket and she would giggle with glee. Then she'd rip the blanket off both of our heads and start over. This went on for a while, and unbeknownst to me, my hair was becoming quite the disheveled mess.

About a 1/2 hour later I hear the doorbell ring, and without thinking, go to answer it. It was a carpet cleaning service lady who was offering a special. I stood there holding one baby, the other one clinging to my leg. I was glancing nervously around to make sure the cat didn't bolt out the small opening, and patiently listened to this lady's speech. I politely declined and closed the door. Then I happened to walk by our entry table mirror and saw what was probably the most frighteningly large, poofy, mass of hair ever to grace to the top of my head! I was MORTIFIED. It was sticking out in all directions and here the nice lady had said nothing! I was one step away from the tattered robe, bunny slippers, and ciggy hanging out of my mouth in the classic trailer housewife cliche. Heck, the pink curlers would of been a grave improvement. She must of thought I was stark-raving shifty-eyed MAD. Hopefully it was more like a mad scientist mad, and not plum loco. Hey, even Einstein had some wacky crazy hair. Maybe he was just playing peek-a-boo??

The Power of the Winky Smiley Face

So, I've come across a handy little accessory in the last few weeks. It's able to leap tall buildings in a single bound... ok maybe not...but it sure is helpful in getting one out of some sticky situations. Behold the power of the cute little winky smiley face! Oh sure, he's a tad unassuming, and not as popular as his football captain cousin, the "happy face" - but in the land of cyber space chat and cell phone texts this little face can say a LOT.

It's come to my attention that you can almost say ANYTHING mean, edgy, untruthful, or sarcastic to someone, and follow it up with a winky smiley face and bam, no harm done. It's like a cute little yellow get out of jail free card.

This came in handy just the other day, when I chastised a coworker who was using company property for personal use on the same weekend I needed the equipment to work from home. I was slightly ticked and in the heat of the moment sent what is probably the meanest text ever, which said, "Thanks for taking the food out of my kids mouths". I panicked as soon as I hit send, knowing it was too late to get anything back. As I sat dreading the impending reply... suddenly everything was ok again. Much to my surprise I got back a rather friendly reply with a "you're killing me" in regards to my comment. I quickly sent a winky smiley face to cover my butt and immediately got one in return. Phew. Of course it might help if you have a sarcastic nature to start with, so people are expecting you to be funny - but the winky smiley face definitely helped.

My friend Jill says that one should be careful when tapping into the power of the winky smiley face. She says one day there might come a time when the winky smiley face won't be able to repair what's been said. So far he's worked every time, but it's probably good to heed her warning none the less. So the next time you're cyber space chatting and maybe say something you shouldn't of, or get yourself into a tricky texting pickle, try out the good old winky smiley face. He's "just kidding" with an attitude.

Outsmart the Fart!

So we have a phrase at our house that I'd like to share with you. It's called "Outsmart the Fart". It's a great phrase, has two separate meanings, and it's so catchy and fun to say that I can see it easily sweeping the nation in the not too distant future. It originated from one of our classic kitchen white board moments, where you blurt out something with out thinking and it becomes an instant family classic.

Well as some of you know, if one were to "pass gas" so to speak, that gas (seemingly thicker than air) can quickly immerse in and around said farter. If that same said farter were say, to directly walk into the room, the gaseous cloud would waft on in right behind them thus leaving the entire room to smell the inner workings of their bowels.

HOWEVER. If a fore mentioned farter started out in the direction of the room, but quickly and without provocation doubled BACK from whence they came, (rightly confusing the noxious fog) then whip around in an rapid about face before traveling into the new room, the lost fart, not knowing which way to go would head in the opposite direction, and all in the room entered would be safe. Soon, it became a matter of courtesy. If a smell lingered about you, politely "double back" before entering a new room... and the phrase "Outsmart the Fart" was born.

Now the phrase seems to pop up whenever we talk about trying to outsmart a clever person or find the most desirable conclusion to tricky situation. For example: Hey your boss wants you to work this weekend but we've got those concert tickets, we should try and "outsmart the fart" and see if you can get out of it. Or borrowing from my many new motherhood experiences: Hey we want to eat some ice cream but we don't want the baby to see, so we'll have to be sneaky and "outsmart the fart" so they'll still want to go to bed on time. Remember, it's a great multipurpose, catchy phrase. So feel free to take our "Outsmart the Fart" and run with it... just be sure to double back first.