Black Friday

You know, I would seriously have to be paid at least triple digits to be enticed to go shopping on Black Friday. I went out one time and it will never happen again. There is a reason why people are killed by being stampeded to death or having large shelves fall on them. Not only are the crowds uncontrollable, but the attitudes are nasty and greedy. I don't have 1,000 of my closest friends I want to shop with the day after Thanksgiving. I hate shopping in optimal conditions (i.e. I am in the store alone, everything I want is at my fingertips and my parking space is right outside the door), much less with a billion people being hateful, grabby and ready to throw you in front of a passing motorist if you dare look at the item they are after.

Men & Doctors

What exactly is it with men and doctors?
I used to think it was just my husband who found it impossible to leave the doctor's office with any semblance of important information. I have now found it is apparently ALL men and ALL doctors.
When my children were little, I used to hate having my husband take them to the doctor. His day off was during the week, so you would think that would be the best time to schedule well-baby check-ups, etc. NO! It drove me crazy to have him come home with no information at all. How much does Junior weigh? I don't know. How tall is Junior? I don't know. Does Junior have medicine to take? Yes. What is it? I don't know. What is it for? I don't know.
I then turn to my three year old. Are you on medicine? Yes. What kind? The pink kind. What for? An ear infection.
I mean seriously! How sad is it that I can get more info from a three year old than a grown man? What did he do? Send him back to the room alone? If he went back there with him, what was he doing?
Now, I know it is apparently all men and all doctors. Recently my boss took the office cat to the vet. As he was sitting on Cat forcing a pill down his throat I asked what he was giving Cat. I don't know. What's wrong with Cat? I don't know.
You would think if anyone had a fear of doctors, it would be women. I mean, men may have to have their dangly parts cupped and told to turn their heads and cough, but women have to have their breasts put on a plate and smashed to a 1/4 inch thick. Plus, I have a doctor who likes to do spontaneous paps. Me: Hi doctor. My shoulder hurts. Dr: Oh, let me just do a quick pap and see what the problem is.
Personally, I had never thought to look at a shoulder through the vagina. Dumb me.

Say This...Not That

I don't profess to be Miss Manners or anything, but I swear, some people need a primer on how to give compliments. I am here to provide a couple of suggestions.
1) A qualified compliment is probably not much of a compliment. Example: Say, "You are really smart." Not, "You are book smart." When you tell someone they are book smart, you are actually saying, you don't have the sense God gave a goose, but you can do math (or history, English, literature, etc.). In every other respect you are dumb as a box of rocks. 2) Avoid comparing the person to others. Example: Say, "You are looking good." Not, "Compared to Bertha, you are a twig." This tells the person, "Up until today, I had thought you were the fattest person on the planet. Now, unbelievably, I have found I am wrong. There is another person even fatter than you." 3) Avoid comparing others to someone/something which is obviously horrible. Example: Say, "Do you do something different with your hair?" Not, "Are you trying to look like Einstein with that 'do?" 4) Avoid using ambiguous words. Example: Say, "You have really good muscle tone." Not, "You're really solid." Is that even a compliment? What does it mean? 5) Avoid using words which are generally construed as uncomplimentary terms. Example: Say, "You have beautifully shaped calves." Not, "You have meaty calves." There is no part of a woman's body she wants referred to as meaty.
Basically, I think Thumper said it best in Bambi, "If you can't say nothin' nice, don't say nothin' at all."

Funny Stuff

If you want to check out some funny stuff, check out the Gilly parody on youtube. It worth your time!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCrTrKpxXNY

Barbies

I have become convinced one can foresee the future through Barbies.
Why would I say such thing you ask?
Because I can look into my past and see what myself and my sisters have become by looking at how we played Barbies.
Once upon a time there were four little girls who played Barbies in the rec room. One little girl (we'll call her Sister 1) had a beautiful Barbie bed she was very proud and possessive of AND a Ken doll. Another little girl (we'll call her Sister 2) had a beautiful doll named Francie who had dark, beautiful hair. Yet another little girl (you guessed it, we're calling her Sister 3) had Barbie and a GI Joe with movable arms he could actually put around Barbie and a cool jeep. The youngest darling girl (Sister 4) had a cheap imitation of Barbie named "New Doll" but she also had a Barbie camper, so New Doll could keep on the move.
As these little girls grew up, a pattern began to emerge. Sisters 1, 2, and 3 kept beautiful houses they would spend hours preparing. Sister 4 took her doll "visiting" without bothering to build a house or even dress her doll. Naked New Doll would be tossed across the room when the ladies of the house saw her approach their door. New Doll desperately wanted to have company and get her Barbie friends to come on camping adventures with her, only to be rebuffed because their homes were not yet ready for company.
Sister one enjoyed snuggling in her cozy home with her beloved Ken doll. (She also freakishly bit the feet off all the dolls in the neighborhood.) Sister 2 kept her house and doll beautiful,dressed to the nines and loved to cut the hair of ALL the Barbie neighborhood. She enjoyed "piercing" their ears (which basically meant a straight pin through the Barbie's head). Sister 3 also had a beautiful home, but she also had that cool jeep and tough GI Joe.
Now::
Fast forward 35-40 years.
Sister 1 has a beautiful home and enjoys snuggling down with her husband. She "plans" her spontaneous moments.
Sister 2 also has a beautiful home. She loves clothes and hair as well as her husband. She also cuts hair of others. She, too, must plan spontaneity in advance.
Sister 3, again with a beautiful house. She is slightly more spontaneous (I credit the jeep) and has a hardworking, tough husband.
Sister 4 lives in a hovel and is uninterested in fashion (though NOT naked), but she is rarely home, as she loves to visit others and is willing to change plans at the drop of a hat. While there is no way in hell she will go camping, she does enjoy going.

And an added note: Sister 1 who freakishly bit the feet off all the dolls in the neighborhood grew up to have the worst feet on the planet. That's right--bunions, plantar fasciitis, heel spurs--you name it. Perhaps she is a prophet and knew her feet cause her problems. Or maybe it's Barbie's payback for her biting off all their feet. We'll never really know for sure.

Men Are Different

I adore men!!!
I mean, I really do! They are sometimes much better people than women. Case in point: When a man has a beef with you, he says, "I'm really ticked off at you and am going to punch you in the mouth." (Okay, maybe not so much talking, but the intent is clear). POP! The other guy gets hit in the mouth and the fight is over. No more anger, no grudges.
With females (I say females because it is the same from 6 to 60), it's NEVER over. First, we hint that we are irritated. (Apparently I am the queen of passive aggressive.)When the hint is not taken, then we are truly pissed off. When this happens, girls do some different things. Some girls never confront the person they are mad at. They just talk smack on them to everyone within earshot. Other girls do confront, but twist facts so they themselves are completely blameless and the other person is an inconsiderate @#$^W$%.
And it's not enough that we are mad. It is important to girls to make sure everyone is mad at them.
Another difference I've recently noticed is the "law of dude." Apparently, a guy putting sunscreen on another guy breaks the "law of dude." My incredibly lily white boy came away from a day in the water with second degree burns because he didn't want some dude "putting his hands all over his back."
However, after getting such a horrible burn, that same dude was required to put aloe vera gel on his burn. I'm asking: Which is worse? Having a dude put his hands on your back for less than a minute to keep you from getting a burn and possibly melanoma or having the same dude put his hands on you three times a day rubbing aloe vera over your extremely tender flesh?
Growing up in a house full of girls, I think I can safely say chicks do not have that phobia. Girls are like, "Hey, can you lift my bra strap and get that stuff between my shoulder blades? Can you get the back of my thighs?" Whatever.

Crashed Computer

Okay, my computer recently crashed, so I have been unable to blog in comfort. I could go into the Buzzard's man cave to blog and use his laptop, but honestly, I'm just not comfortable there.
There are certain aspects of the man cave that are kind of sweet. He is a DJ part time, so he has a really good sound system in the man cave. He also has a recliner, a flat screen TV and of course a computer. His TV is hooked up to his sound system, so he has surround sound with great big speakers. (This means if there is an earthquake in TV, you can actually feel the earth shake beneath you. Of course that also applies to gun shots, car races, animals growling or any other loud noises on TV. I have had to remove all pictures from the wall adjoining the man cave to the house, because the walls actually shake from the vibration caused by the volume.
The part that is somewhat disconcerting is a) the space is shared with a go kart and b) the smell is not too great. The other hobby my husband has besides DJing is go karting. His go kart is parked in the cave too. According to Buzzard, the smell in the cave is "wonderful." "It smells like tires," he says. Apparently his idea of a wonderful smell and mine are not the same. I like the smell of things like apple cinnamon, potpourri, heated oil, perfume, body spray, etc. He likes the smell of gasoline, tires, dirt, BO, things like that. (Okay, probably even the Buzzard doesn't like the smell of BO. I may have exagerrated just a tad.)
Anyway, if I wait too long between blogs, you can definitely blame it on the Buzzard. He has neglected to hook up a different computer for me, so I have to use his laptop when he's not in the Man Cave.
Stay tuned!

Redneck Baby Shower

My sister was recently invited to what can only be called a Redneck Baby Shower. Why? You know it's a redneck baby shower when the invitation ends with BYOB. Seriously??
I can imagine what is on the gift registry: cooler for baby and bigger one for beer; insulated cooler to keep baby in during the winter; a beer fanny pack so I can carry my beer and my baby at the same time; a nipple for my beer bottle so if the baby gets fussy...; a straw for my beer in case I am using my hands for something baby related. Other good gifts may include a leash, so you don't accidentally put the baby down and forget where it is, baby overalls so you can hang baby on your arm like a purse and of course the always useful pet carrier. Another gift may be a beer can mobile for above baby's crib and a neon Coors light to turn on at night.

Unrelated Observation: Note to Cows: You should know that if you are being taken to a meat locker, even if you manage to escape captivity, even if you run really fast, even if you outwit your captors, chances are, you can't outrun a bullet. The people chasing you do not have your welfare in mind. They never really had in mind for you to live that long anyway. They are not going to be careful not to hurt you. All they are thinking is, "It's burger time!"
And it's probably no use hiding. There is probably not a tree big enough.

A Few Additions

Okay, it has come to my attention there are even more drive-thru "What the @#$%?"
Apparently, it has become common to WALK through a drive-thru. This is apparently for those people too lazy to open a door to the building. I could maybe understand this if A) You are so drunk you can't drive and are so smashed your brain really isn't functioning at full capacity or B) It is so late the lobby part is locked and the only part open is the drive-thru. These excuses are only good at drive-thru restaurants. There is NO EXCUSE for walking up to the bank drive-thru window or a pharmacy drive-thru window. That's just frakkin' LAZY!
Also, do think walking up to a drive-thru window at 2 a.m. is the safest thing to do? I mean, everyone is just leaving the bars where they have been drinking for the past 4-6 hours and they now have the drunken munchies. Do you want to be on foot in front of them? Now if excuse A is the one in use here, you may get lucky and not get run over by a car. (Unless it's me behind you, because I may just aim to run your IGNORANT ass over.) If you are using excuse B, I strongly suggest wearing reflective clothing, perhaps investing in a bullhorn or perhaps cowbell and adding lights to your wardrobe.
Another observation: People believe if they are in their cars they are alone. And apparently invisible. Here's the truth--while you may indeed be alone in your car, you are surrounded by WINDOWS! That means clear glass that you can see through and others can see through, too! That means if you are sitting in line at a drive-thru (Where by the way, everyone is at a complete stop and generally looking around) you should not have your finger so far up your nose you look like you are scratching the back of your eyeball. This is also not the place to change your clothes, adjust your boobs, floss your teeth or pop a zit.
I guess what I am basically saying is, "GO HOME!!!"

Just A Few "What the @#$%"

Okay. We have all had times where we just say, "What the @#%$?" One such moment for me was this weekend. I went shopping with a couple of sisters and when we finished the torturous task of trying on all assortment of clothes, we decided to treat ourselves to an ice cream cone. We decided to go to Sonic and take advantage of their $1 cones and sundaes. Nothing particularly odd there. So we go to the drive-in restaurant and find what? A drive-thru!! My first thought of course was "What the #$%@? Next it was how lazy do you have to be to be use a drive-through at a driv-in? So now, not only do I have to stay in my car, but I can not even put my arm out the window. What really took the cake though, was the fact that there was no drive-thru window. A girl still came out to your car to hand you your order and take your money. I mean, seriously? What is the point of a drive-thru window at a drive-in?
While I'm on the subject of drive thrus, does anyone else get disturbed by the braille on the drive-up ATMs? Why are you driving if you're blind and need braille instructions? How do you find the ATM? What about braille signs telling where the bathrooms are? How do you find the signs? I really don't know.
Then we get back to my sister's only to find her dog is suicidal and running in front of my car. When I refused to hit her and kill her, she stayed IN FRONT OF MY CAR! "What the @#$%! I think the dog seriously needs therapy or Prozac or something. Maybe the dog whisperer can come and talk to her. Can't you hear the conversation now? "They never let me sit at the table. They never let me sleep under the covers. They stuff pills down my throat on a daily basis. It's like I'm a stepchild or something!"
I have no answers for any of these things. I guess I'll just chalk them up to another mystery of the universe.

Sometimes I wonder (Rated "R" for violence)

Sometimes I wonder. Is it hormones? Do I need more/stronger/different meds? Or am I just frakkin' crazy?
Recently I have noticed I have been what I like to refer to as "edgy." (Other people have a different word for it and is something like biditch. Yes, that is a word I recently invented. Don't know how to pronounce it? It's a mixture of the word idiot and another word.) Sorry, I digress.
Anyway, my nights are plagued with bizarre frustrating/annoying/confusing dreams and I wake up frustrated/annoyed/confused. Not a good way to start the day. I usually have a headache and feel as though I've had no sleep. Another reason to be joyful, right? I go to work and think everyone there is an imbecile (except my darling friend at the front desk). If either of the two remaining people talk to me, generally what they say makes me want to put a letter opener or fork in their eye socket. (Actually, just thinking about that now made me smile.)

At first I thought maybe other people were just grouchy. That is until I realized that while I'm listening to them, I'm hoping they choke on their own tongue just so they will shut up.
Being menopausal, I realize I'm sometimes a little moody, but it has gotten to be a terminal case of horribleness to mankind in general. I have a fuse about a quarter inch long and I have little fantasies of doing bodily harm to innocent people who just had the nerve to say something horribly rude like. Are you okay? You've been really quiet. WHAT?!?! How dare you! I'll show you quiet! I then proceed to pull the tongue out of their mouth and wrap it around their neck four times.
I think maybe if I could just get a good night's sleep where I didn't wake up thinking of work, poverty or idiots, maybe I'd be okay. One night I had a dream my boss was taking us all to Florida. Nice, right? Except he came to my house two days before we left and oversaw my packing, telling me what I could and could not pack, even down to my socks and underwear. He then proceeded to tell me what bodily functions would be allowed while we were there. (Suffice it to say, pretty much none.)
Another dream, one of the girls at the bank put $100 into my account because I was her preferred customer. Since I had not checked my balance online, she took it away because I was so ungrateful.
I think maybe I'll just go back to my padded room and put on my shirt with the really long arms and wait it out.

VODKA
Who Knew?
1. To remove a bandage painlessly,saturate the bandage with vodka.
The stuff dissolves adhesive.

2. To clean the caulking around bathtubs and showers,fill a trigger-spray bottle with vodka, spray the caulking, let set five minutes and wash clean.
The alcohol in the vodka kills mold and mildew.

3. To clean your eyeglasses,simply wipe the lenses with a soft,clean cloth dampened with vodka.
The alcohol in the vodka cleans the glass and kills germs.

4. Prolong the life of razors by filling a cup with vodka and letting your safety razor blade soak in the alcohol after shaving.
The vodka disinfects the blade and prevents rusting.

5. Spray vodka on wine stains,scrub with a brush, and then blot dry.

6 Using a cotton ball, apply vodka to your face as an astringent to cleanse the skin and tighten pores.

7. Add a jigger of vodka to a 12-ounce bottle of shampoo.
The alcohol cleanses the scalp, removes toxins from hair, and stimulates the growth of healthy hair.

8. Fill a sixteen-ounce trigger-spray bottle with vodka and spray bees or wasps to kill them.

9. Pour one-half cup vodka and one-half cup water into a Ziploc freezer bag
and freeze for a slushy, refreshing ice pack for aches,pain or black eyes.

10. Fill a clean, used mayonnaise jar with freshly packed lavender flowers,
fill the jar with vodka, seal the lid tightly and set in the sun for three days.
Strain liquid through a coffee filter,then apply the tincture to aches and pains.

11. To relieve a fever, use a washcloth to rub vodka on your chest and back as a liniment.

12. To cure foot odor,wash your feet with vodka.

13. Vodka will disinfect and alleviate a jellyfish sting.

14. Pour vodka over an area affected with poison ivy to remove the urushiol oil from your skin.

15. Swish a shot of vodka over an aching tooth.
Allow your gums to absorb some of the alcohol to numb the pain.


And silly me! I've only been drinking the stuff!!


I never realized how much emails could teach you. I recently received the above email and snickered a little to myself. Then I got to thinking: Wouldn't that make the job of cleaning house much less onorous? So now, this a typical "cleaning" day at my house.

Prepare my "cleaning solution" by pouring a bottle of vodka into spray bottle. Taste it to make sure it the correct strength. Clean my face using the vodka astringent and take a shower being sure to add a shot of vodka to my shampoo. Take a shot just to get in the mood to shower.
Remove my razor from the vodka solution it has been soaking in. Shave a strip of fur from my legs, take a shot. Shave a strip, take shot. Continue until all fur is removed from legs.
Next, I need to bandage up my legs to staunch the flow of blood created my missing a few times with my razor. Take a shot.
Looking around the bathroom, I spot some mildew up in the corner of the shower. Spray the mildew with "cleaning solution." Spray solution into my mouth. Notice caulking is looking a little dingy as well. Spray solution into my mouth, then remember I am supposed to be spraying the caulking. Spray caulking, then into my mouth. Spray mouth again. Stumble out of bathroom, falling on the way.
Go into kitchen to get used mayonnaise jar. Add vodka to remaining mayonnaise. No lavender leaves, but I have parsley flakes. Almost the same thing. Set mayo mixture outside.
Look at clock and wonder where the time has gone. Wonder why I am running so low on "cleaning solution." Notice I can't see very well out of my glasses. Decide to clean them with a damp cloth soaked in vodka. Squeeze vodka into my mouth from cloth. Wipe off glasses. Still can't focus. Repeat above instructions.
Realize the entire day is gone, and knowing I obviously worked my butt off, decide to go to bed. Of course, my "cleaning solution" is gone too. I may have to get another job to support my "cleaning" habit.
No, I'll just fix myself a drink of Formula 409.

Have you ever met me????

How do you like the new look??? My friend Karma "pimped" my blog. I'm too technologically stunted to do anything like this myself, but I gotta say, "I LOVE IT!!!"
Now, for today's topic. I have been married for 25 years, yet I still frequently have to ask my husband, "Have you ever met me?" He has recently had a renewed interest in fishing. He asked me if I wanted to accompany him on a fishing trip and of course I said, "Hell no."
WHAT?!?! He acts as though he's shocked. "How could you not LOVE to fish?"
Wellll-- let's see. How long do you have for me to answer? 1) I hate being outdoors. My lily-white flesh is likely to burst into flames when exposed to direct sunlight. I don't like to sweat. I don't like to be cold. I don't like sitting on the ground. I don't like bugs. I don't like grass under my butt. I don't like dirt.
2) I don't like dirty hands. To fish, one must first touch a nasty fishing pole; second, one must bait the hook using a nasty worm or some other form of nasty fishbait; third, if you do catch a fish, you have to touch a nasty fish to remove it from the hook. Don't even get me started on the process of preparing said fish for consumption. 3) Fishing bores me out of my mind. Apparently I have the attention span of gnat, but I wish to be entertained if I'm not allowed to talk. I will watch TV for hours, play games or read, but I do not want to just sit there watching water silently
Now, I could politely explain all this to my husband, but I'm thinking if he hasn't heard me say any of these things in the past 25 years, while my attention span may be that of a gnat, his is apparently shorter. I figure a simple "Hell, no" gets the point across much quicker.
.

Dentist time again

Okay, it was time to go have my teeth cleaned again. Not a big deal really...unless you have to have a panoramic view x-ray (cue ominous music here). It was one of those good news bad news scenarios. First the bad news. You need to have these panoramic views taken about every five or six years (okay, really that's part of the good news). These views show the bone structure, all dental work you've had done (which show up as glaringly white spots on these x-rays) and the position of all your teeth. (These are the ones used by a forensic odontologist to compare with anonymous remains to identify your cold dead corpse when it is found alongside the road in a state of decomposition. Good times.)
Anyway, I digress. First, they take away your glasses, which in my case means I need a seeing eye dog, a white cane or someone leading me. Since neither of the first two options were available, the hygienist led me to a device in which I was to put my head and bite down on this little...thing. A vice is attached to my head, then a light with crosshairs is shone on my face. "Hmmm...that little cross is supposed to be on your nose. Let me try to move your head a little."
After trying unsuccessfully to move my nose off my cheek (where it apparently is), the hygienist tries raising and/or lowering the device. "Maybe you're shorter than I thought." Now, I am feeling like a midget with a face something like a Picasso painting.
After trying desperately to rearrange my facial features to meet the specifications of the machine's settings, she calls for help. Luckily, a little reconstructive surgery fixed the problem and they were finally able to take a panoramic view of my teeth.
So what's the good news you may ask? I was told I took a beautiful picture. Now I know the secret to my taking a good photograph is for me to have no flesh of any kind in the picture. Just goes to prove that beauty comes from within!
By the way, they better have to use those pictures to identify my remains!!
(Actually, I really have to add that I actually like going to the dentist. They get my sense of humor and laugh at my jokes. What's not to love?)

I Don't Like the Tone I'm Seeing!

As a writer, it is important to me that people are able to understand the meaning of what I write. Sometime for this to happen, you need to help the reader understand the tone it is written in. Some written forms allow this to happen rather easily by allowing the writer to use tools such as italics, bold, caps, etc. One medium that lacks these options is text messaging.
I'll explain.
While it is indeed possible to use all caps in a text message, it requires pushing numerous buttons. I personally have no idea how to italicize in texting. You can underline, but again with the button pushing. In addition, the very nature of text messages is to be short, sweet and to the point. No one wants to read a dissertation on their phone.
Plus, there is always the hindrance of "text talk." brb, LOL, ttyl, BMA (Okay the last one is my own personal text talk and it is only for those of you who know me well enough to be able to figure out what it means. Hint: The first word is Bite)
I love texting, but can't really bring myself to use text talk. It goes against everything I believe in to not use proper punctuation and spellings of words. I am waiting for the first time I read an application and it has text talk instead of real words because the person no longer knows how to spell real words.
Anyway, before I continue this rant, recently my sisters and I were talking about the tones of our texts. Three out of four of us frequently correspond through texts. (The fourth is not technicalogically advanced enough to do texting.) The interesting part is that because she doesn't receive the texts, she hears about them verbally. That is how we came to hear about the perceived tones in each other's texts.
Text: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun.
Response: Maybe I will have to see.
Text:Well sister 2 and sister 1 and me and mom are all going to the cabin.
All sound innocent enough, right. Now add tone with 'tude.
Text: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun. Read: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun.
Response: Maybe. I will have to see. Read: (With total disinterest and probable negagtivity) Maybe. I'l have to see. (Read: If nothing better comes up, I'll consider it.)
Text: Well (Read: Well!! [Add chicken head movement here]) Text:Sister 2 and sister 1 and me amd mom are going to the cabin. (Read: We are all going and will have fun with or without you. It will be your loss, not ours.)
Of course we only hear about these interpretations later after hearing the texts through the non-texting sister.
Apparently, another form of writing which doesn't allow for italics, bold, etc. is right here. I don't have any tools with whch to italicize or bold. Bummer. You'll just have to guess my tone.

The Truth About My Mom

This past weekend, I spent a day and evening at the cabin with my mom and sisters. There were a couple of friends there as well, so we couldn't help but regale our audience with tales of our past, whether distant past or recent past.
My mom said we always tell her she won't be remembered for cooking, but what can she do? I have actually been giving that a lot of thought. And the answer is EVERYTHING!
When we were growing up, my mom was a full time teacher and still managed to raise four little girls, three of which were born one right after another, one a year for three years. (Yes, it's true. I am the good child, waiting four years before making my appearance!) Not only did she do the grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, rolling up four heads in pink curlers every Saturday night so our hair would look nice for church, but she also built us Barbie furniture, made clothes, fixed our bikes and even managed to create a few inventions of her own, like the bicycle built for two. It may not have ever turned out the way she wanted it, but her persistence is the lesson that stuck.
I think back on my childhood and the biggest thing I remember is humor. That's probably why I put such stock in a good sense of humor. My mom has always told me (especially in the past few years) that I am exactly like my daddy. While I consider that a huge compliment, there is one thing I believe I got from Mom. My sense of humor.
When I remember the funny parts of my childhood, my mom was always a part of it. I think my daddy had a deep appreciation for "the funny," but I don't think he himself was all that funny. I really can't think of any funny things involving him except his reaction to my mom's antics.
I remember the look on his face as my mom "balleted" while cooking dinner. I remember his disbelief when the neighbor told him about her doing cartwheels in the front yard after tucking her dress into her pantyhose. The look of astonishment as she zoomed past him on a skateboard in K-Mart. I guess if the truth be told, I may be 90% like my daddy, but the other 10% is pure mom. She still makes me laugh and even puts up with being the butt of the joke (or the uvula as the case may be)!
So Mom, while I hate dedicating an entire blog to you :-) I love you and thank you from the bottom of my funny bone!

New Year

Ah, the new year is upon us and as usual, people all around me are talking about their new year's resolutions. Not me. I figure, I never get around to accomplishing my new year's resolution, so why bother. It just decreases my self esteem when I feel like a loser for not accomplishing what I set out to do. I mean, if you can't even keep a promise to yourself, what does that say about you? Better to set the bar very low and have zero expectations so you don't disappoiunt yourself once again.
On the other hand, I have already accomplished a great deal this year. Here it is, only the fifth day of the new year and I have already cleaned out two rooms. I actually mean CLEANED OUT two rooms. Yes, it's true. You know it's way past due when the clothes in the closet you are cleaning out must be thrown away because A) they are so old they are hopelessly out of style (yes, I threw away three shirt dresses from the 80s as well as a plethora of denim skirts I haven't been able to squish my arse in for a decade.) or B) They are yellowed with age. (Okay. some of those clothes survived the clean out. I mean how do you throw away your baby's Baptism outfit or your First Communion dress?) Yes, my wedding dress is among those items as well, as is another wedding dress??? I can only assume belongs to my sister-in-law. (Hanging with that dress was a pepto pink brides maid dress I looked horrid in.)
I must credit my mother with providing the motivation to clean out these rooms and I also credit my husband for loaning me an excavator to remove all the crap from my house!!My mom was a big help in making me realize it was time to chuck stuff. (It seems I need to be held accountable if I am ever to actually accomplish anything.)
In that respect, I was doing well with my lifestyle change of changing my eating habits to a healthier, more fit program. The holidays came and all the pounds I shed prior were replaced, as well as about five more. Now five pounds doesn't sound like much if you weigh 95 to begin with. When you have to start weighing at a grain elevator however, it is time to take a little more care.
To that end, my daughter and I have decided to get back on a healthier track. She will be my watch dog and I will have to answer to her if gain more weight or if I stray too far off the healthy bandwagon.
Okay, that is sounding a lot like a resolution, so I better stop while I'm behind. See what I mean?? I can't even keep my promise to myself not to make promises to myself! I suck.