Thursday, September 30, 2010

Someone had a hot date

     Today when I was surfing the net working I came across this on News of the Weird:

SPARTANBURG COUNTY, S.C. — A woman is facing charges after being accused of shoplifting earrings and two vibrators.  Clerks of two stores in Westgate Mall in Spartanburg reported that a woman was shoplifting.  An employee at Spencer’s said she saw the woman, later identified by police as 19-year-old Aleshia Lollis, go to the back of the store and put two vibrators in her purse.  Security was called, but Lollis had moved on to Claire’s, where a cashier said Lollis went to the back of the store and put three pairs of earrings in her purse… she was arrested and charged with shoplifting.

  WTF?? Are you kidding me? Vibrators and earrings? Where's the wine? I mean if you are gonna dress up and wear earrings for your vibrator you should at least offer it a glass of wine!

  The things I learn when I'm working.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Meet Clementine the next Houdini

Mo came home from school on Tuesday and called me at work. This, in and of itself, is unusual. I tell her to call me, so I know she is alive, hasn't been kidnapped by aliens, gotten lost, or distracted by something shiny. She never remembers. When I call her to make sure none of the above things have happened, she doesn't answer. Her reason is always the same, “ I was peeing woman!” That girl pees more than anyone I know.

   Back to my story, there is a story in here somewhere, I promise.  So Mo calls me and says "We can't leave the windows open anymore when we leave."

  Now I don't know about you but that one sentence made the bottom drop out of my stomach, someone has broken in and stolen all of our shiny things!

  Then she explains, there was a note on the door:

Your dog was on the roof cause he climbed out the window and couldn't jump back in. I brought him inside to keep him safe. Come by when you get home.

My dog? All nine pounds of her, climbed out Mo's window trying to escape her incredibly rough life of ball chasing, bone chewing, and sleeping on my pillow.

  I should tell you that Clementine is the world's best escape artist. She can dig under a fence in the time it takes to answer the phone. Usually she runs away to the post office. I don't know why, maybe she wants to bite a mail man.

They have me on speed dial because when she gets in the post office, and she always goes in, no hanging in the parking lot for my doggie, she acts like she is rabid and won't let anyone touch her. She likes to go in and lay on the tile floor. WTH?

  So now my little Houdini has found another method of escape. I can just see her sitting on the couch, sipping a cocktail, having a snausage, giggling to herself as she plots her next escape.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Out of the mouths of babes

   I recently wrote a post about how I'm such a good Auntie, teaching Ivy to say all those wonderful bad words and then rewarding her with cookies. She's too cute to actually ever discipline! Anyway, the comments on that post got me thinking about Mo when she was little.

   Mo was, and still is, a talker. Sometimes I think that girl came out of my girlie bits speaking in complete sentences. When she was 18 months old her daycare mother told everyone that Mo could speak better than most 5 year olds. Yes I was busting my buttons proud. She spoke young and she spoke well, Mo always spoke clearly, so clearly that other people had no trouble understanding her, no baby talk for my baby! This was cute, most of the time. I can remember a few occasions where cute is not what I would have called it.

   For some reason Mo never really swore. I'm sure she repeated a word here and there but never to the point that it became something we needed to correct. Mo generally would accept our explanations  of what was and wasn't acceptable. She called Beavis and Butthead, Beaivs and the other guy until she was 12, we didn't allow her to say butthead, it wasn't how nice girls talked.

  However Mo always seemed to know which words, even thought they weren't  "bad" words, would get a rise out of people.

  When Mo was two we went to a local Christian church that had a great worship band, Mo never went in the nursery because she loved the music and would sit quietly and listen to the pastor speak. One Sunday after the band was finished playing and we were waiting for Pastor Steve to talk to us Mo told me she wanted to go up there and talk.

   " Sweetie, you can't, that is not for little girls it is only for the Pastor, he tells us about Jesus, remember? " I'm thinking maybe my baby is going to be a minister when she grows up, she wants to speak to a whole congregation!

  Pastor Steve steps up, says hello to all of us and proceeds with that days lesson. Suddenly, my little girl, in that loud, loud voice that only toddlers seem to possess, says " Mommy, I want to talk, it's my turn."

  " No sweetie, it's Pastor Steve's turn, you can't go up there."

   " Mommy, I want to talk!" A little louder this time.

   " No, Mo, now sit still and be quiet."

   " But Mommy they let the monkey talk all the time!"  Pastor Steve started laughing. He did look a little like a monkey.

     Then when Mo realized that penis was not a word said in public, then of course, she had to say it. We were in the grocery store, she's in the front of the cart looking as cute as can be when she smiles up at me and says, " Mommy, did you say penis?"

   "  No Mo I didn't, do you want some pop tarts? " Distract, distract, distract.

   "Yes you did say penis Mommy, I heard you say penis."

    " How about some candy, want some Junior Mints?"

And then my sweet little baby looks at the lady who is passing us in the aisle and says, " My mommy said penis." Then she started singing it.

    All I could think  was why oh why did I teach her to talk?

Monday, September 27, 2010

Toddler Fashion

   This weekend Ivy Love came to stay with us.I always say with us but really, she comes to stay with me, Mo is much too busy with her life to help much with a toddler.

   Saturday night we went to the races. Ivy loves the races, she claps her hands and watches all the cars, she even lets me put those little foam ear plugs in her ears. Her little expression when the cars take off is so cute, she looks so excited.

   Ivy went down for a nap in the afternoon so I jumped in the shower. Now that Mo is 17 I've forgotten how to take care of basics like showering with a little one underfoot. After I got out of the shower I ran around in my towel because Ivy's port a crib is in my room and I didn't want to cut her nap short.

   While waiting for Ivy to wake up a friend called, we chatted for a while and I hear Miss Ivy calling for me. I went upstairs to get dressed, still on the phone. Ivy is so happy to see me! She is jumping up and down and I notice she's naked. One of her favorite things to do before her nap is to strip so this wasn't unusual. Then I notice she is peeing all over herself and the blankets in the crib. I quickly tell my friend goodbye, throw on some clothes and get Ivy out of the crib and into the tub.

  Piece of cake, while she's in the tub playing I do my hair and makeup, not really looking at myself because I'm making she Ivy doesn't fall in the tub.

   Somehow we manage to get ready, out the door and to the races on time. We had a blast, Mo and her boyfriend went, we met Marianne and crew there. I was feeling pretty good about managing with a toddler after all these years until Marianne tugged on the tag that was sticking out of my cleavage and said, " Could this be on backwards?"

  Yes, I went to the races with my tank top on backwards. At least Ivy looked cute!

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Why do people trust me with their children?

   Last night I picked up my little Ivy Love. And discovered that I swear entirely too much. We were driving home and as I mentioned before I live where there is constant construction so coming home the lanes are so messed up no one knows which way to go. Add to that the digging machines were kicking up so much dirt that you could barely see the car in front of you.

   Suddenly a truck comes out of the dirt, in my lane, headed right for us. I managed to swerve onto the shoulder so he missed us but apparently as my heart was exploding and I was peeing my pants I must have said, "What the fuck was that?!"

   When the blood stopped pounding in my ears I hear, from that little voice in the backseat, "What the fuck was that?" Now the pronunciation wasn't perfect but the inflection was exactly the same as mine.

   I quickly turned around and said, " I'm sorry Ivy, that's not a nice word, we don't say that." Then I proceeded to drive home.

  Getting Ivy out of the car I hit my head, as I always do, and I said "Ow, shit!"  Once in the house Ivy dropped her cup, what did she say? "Oh shit" Once again I put on my best frowny face, " Ivy, that's not a nice word, we don't say that."

  Later I was telling Mo about Ivy repeating me in the car and Ivy overheard, she says "Mom!" - yes she calls me Mom sometimes, the Princess is too busy to remember the names of all the peasants who serve her. I said, " Whatcha want baby?" And my little Ivy Love put on her best frowny face and said " Don't say it!" Of course I laughed my ass off.

   A little while later when the dog stole Ivy's cookie she once again said " Oh shit" Again I gave her the frowny face, but before I could say anything she gave me that little dimpled smile and said " Don't say it!" So I laughed.

  I think she was encouraged by my laughter because then she started doing this cute little hopping, skipping kind of dance in a circle, while shaking her head and saying " Shit, shit, don't say it! Shit, don't say it! Shit, don't say it!" Until she tumbled to the floor laughing hysterically.

  What could I do? I gave her another cookie.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

To coupon or not. That is the question


   I have good intentions. About twice a year I decide I'll start using coupons and save a crap load of money and take an exotic vacation and be interviewed on Oprah about how I traveled the world on 50 cent off coupons.
   Side note- since I'm easily distracted. Why is there a dollar sign on my keyboard but no little cent symbol? Hmmmm?  Who decided we all have dollars and no cents?
   Back to the reason I'm here. I've decided to start SAVING MONEY!!! Yes, that is exactly what it looks like in my head when I  think about it. Sunday I bought the paper, I dutifully cut out all the coupons and stuck them in an envelope. Today when the sales circulars came out I found a website that will not only tell me what is the best deal, but will also tell me where to find coupons for said deal.
   They make this so easy. I'm armed with a list that I printed off that handy dandy little website, my coupon envelope and a plan.
    Please don't remind me that I don't cook, I'm still excited about the possibility of SAVING MONEY!!!

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Don't look in the cabinets.

  I consider myself an organized person. Ask me for anything, I can put my hands on it in under five minutes. Birth certificates, immunization records, insurance paperwork, Mo's second grade report card. I know where it all is, at all times.

 The flip side of being super organized is that I'm also a tremendous piler. I know it seems like the two of those things would be at odds but if you don't have time to put it away correctly then you should set it aside until you have time to do it right.

  This happens frequently. I have a pile of papers on my desk that need to be filed. My hall closet seems to collect everything that doesn't have a home, and it's huge so after a while it gets very scary. Don't even get me started on the kitchen cabinets. There are cabinets that I don't let anyone else open because they don't know quite how to shove their hip in as they open the door so everything doesn't come tumbling out at them.

 I have lived in this house for two and a half years. Mo and I moved from a two bedroom apartment into this four bedroom house with a basement and the hoarding gremlins are taking over. The sad part is that I'm a purger. Anytime I'm stressed I purge, I load the car and take everything I can fit in there to the local thrift store, still my cabinets overflow.

  My kitchen was someones really bad idea. It's poorly designed and has almost no usable cabinets. The ones that are actually usable are organized, the others are nightmares. Why am I telling you this? I'm hoping to embarrass myself into cleaning these out.

  Maybe I'll go buy some cute baskets and organize these freaking cabinets. Or maybe I'll just take a bubble bath.

Monday, September 20, 2010

It's always something.....

  On Sunday I rode my bike to the grocery store. Earth shattering news, I know. My neighborhood is still on lock down and I need some ricotta cheese for my lasagna.

 Unfortunately for me, and everyone who knows me, I'm one of THOSE people. You know the ones, by golly if life gives me lemons I'm going to make lemonade and share it with my friends!

  If I can't drive to the store, I'll ride my bike. I was excited, do my shopping and exercise at the same time. Look at me! Multi tasking! I felt oh so very European riding my bike to the store. How fun! Isn't this great! Not only am I getting exercise but I'm saving the planet.

I thought I was gonna die! ( which makes me think of Rosanne Rosannadana every time I say it) I bought my bike two years ago and the two of us are only faintly acquainted, but still, anyone can ride a bike.

I am usually fairly active, this summer however, I have been a sloth. No exercising, no walking, very little yard work. I only got off the couch to refill my wine glass. Riding a bike after being sedimentary for months is not a good idea.

 I am also a smoker, I know, I know, I've been trying to quit forever, not working out, yet! So I rode my bike approximately 11 million miles to the store, ( it was only two, but still) when I got there I was afraid.

My thighs were burning, my lungs were screaming and my girlie bits were ready to go on strike in spite of the expensive seat on my bike. How in the hell am I gonna get home?

 I pulled my bike up to the bike lock thingy and looked longingly at the air conditioned grocery store. I wanted to be in there so badly but I wasn't sure my legs could support my weight. I held onto the bike for a very long time after I got off of it, willing the muscles in my legs to come back.

Eventually I was able to walk into the store. I walked around much longer than was necessary trying to pep talk myself into getting back on that bike. I almost called Mo to come get me. What's a little driving through someones yard when your mother is in need?

 I got back on that bike and talked to  myself through the whole ride home, I can do this, I can do this. I have to admit on my other shoulder was my evil twin reminding me that I was going to die a slow and painful death for putting her though this.

 I was almost home when I go to the LDS church. There was a young woman leaving church on her bike. Church dress and all. As she rode away, purple dress flapping in the wind I could hear the music from Wizard of Oz, you know, when the witch is on her bike. So I laughed the rest of the way home.

 Now here is Rosanne Rosannadanna telling you why you should never quit smoking or exercise. I love her!

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Baby Blues, 17 years later

  I'm feeling a little melancholy today. No, it has nothing to do with the wine I'm drinking. I'm only drinking that because my ass hurts. My ass hurts because I did yard work today, I trimmed bushes and trees and pulled more weeds than I thought one yard could grow, and that is why my ass hurts, therefore, I must drink wine.

  Back to my melancholyness ( Is that even a word?) I think I've discovered why I'm fighting so hard against the changing of the seasons. This was the last summer Mo would be a child!!

  I want time to slow down, move a little backwards, if at all possible. Each season stretching out endlessly before me to enjoy and savor. This is the year that my baby is hurrying to get behind her. She is rushing headlong into adulthood and I'm standing at the door, her jacket still in my hands wondering what the hell happened.

  Please can we slow this down. I want to remember every day of this year. I want to make amazing memories. I want to laugh more and worry less.

  Why didn't I enjoy Mo's childhood more. I wish we had finger painted more, sang more silly, made up songs, played in the mud more, got dirty, ate more cookies, read more stories, snuggled more.

  Instead I did what I think all mothers do in one way or another, I wished it away.
          I can't wait until she sleeps through the night, holds her bottle, feeds herself, walks, talks, dresses herself, goes to school, reads to herself, ties her shoes, the list goes on and on.

    I wasn't trying to wish it away. I kept thinking as she was more independent and able to do for herself, I would be able to enjoy her more. That day never came. I was too caught up in being a Mom. Eat your vegetables, do your homework, clean your room, no, you can't wear just your underwear outside to play. I can't play Barbies right now I am- cleaning the house, cooking dinner, reading, watching TV, working on this quilt, too tired.

  I want a do over. I want to feel that warm squiggly little kid on my lap, smell her neck, kiss her chubby checks, hold her sticky hands. Does everyone feel like this? I only have one child and I feel like I've missed so much. How do women do it with 2,3,4 even 7?

  Mo and I are both typical Type A personalities, over achieving perfectionists who have too many irons in the fire at all times and know that if we want something done right we have to do it ourselves. We are constantly running, I see my baby girl at night when she comes into my room to talk to me when she gets home from a date, work, school activity, whatever.

  Can I lay in a hammock with my baby and count the stars? I want to listen to her "when I grow ups" again. Most of all I want to figure out how in the hell the past 17 years flew by and why I didn't pay more attention.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Land Under Construction

Today I drew you a picture, just like in kindergarten. Why? Because thanks to the State of Utah's construction wizards, I am stuck in my home.

Yes, I really am that awesome with the little paint thingy on my computer.  I love my neighborhood, Loopy Land, and one of the reasons I love it is there is only one street in, that's Loopy Lane, it comes in, loops around and goes back out. We are very self contained, almost elitist, and we like it that way. Unfortunately that means there is only one way to the Hummingbird house.

  That fancy little purple square, that's what my house would look like from space, if the roof was purple. Back in July they put those flashing signs on West Street, which runs directly behind my house, and is the only way to Loopy Lane,. The signs said West Street would be closed from July 21st to July 28th. No big deal, right?

  The first day I came home using North Street and entered Loopy Lane, they were digging up the road directly behind my house. Ok, still no problem. As the summer has worn on they have moved south down West Street and it remains closed from the south. Still not a big deal.

  I have to tell you that North Street has been under construction for five years now. A two mile stretch of road, and it's still under construction. I could have paved it with Lego's, on my hands and knees. The construction on North Street is now at the intersection of North and West Streets, in the past this has not been a problem because I could access West street from South Street. Not anymore.

  So I come home from work and find that I cannot turn onto West Street from North Street. WTF? How am I supposed to get home. I didn't think about it too long because I really had to pee so I jumped a few curbs and cut through some guys back yard, and made it home. Not sure when I can ever leave again, guess it's a good thing after all that I bought all that case lot food.

Friday, September 17, 2010

When did this happen?

Fall is in the air. Yes, I realize it's the middle of September and the rest of the world has happily embraced the cooler temperatures, new school clothes and changing leaves, but I'm dragging my feet.

It's time I joined the fall party. We have had night time temperatures in the 40's and Mo had asked me several times why I refuse to turn on the furnace.

I mumble something about getting it inspected and needing a new filter but the real reason is I'm not ready. I was just warming up to summer, turning on the furnace means admitting it's gone.

Not gonna do it. I still have plans for this summer. I have a bikini I haven't worn, farmers tans I want to get and tomatoes I want to eat, fresh from the garden.

I'm a little behind but this weekend I will be working to catch up. The scarecrow will be under the tree, the fall wreath on the door and I'll caulk the stupid windows.

Maybe I'll wear my bikini while I decorate the house for fall. It's gotta be done, might as well enjoy it, and provide another excuse for the missionaries to steer clear of my house.

Who are these people?

Sometimes you just have to ask yourself- is anyone really that stupid?

When I call the doctors office the recording says " If this is a life threatening emergency, hang up and dial 911"- I always call my gynecologists office when I cut off a limb or something.

Tag on my blow dryer says "Do not use while bathing"- this takes multi tasking to a whole new level.

I dialed a wrong number today, the recorded message said " If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please hang up and try your number again." When would you not reach that recording in error? Is anyone so lonely they actually dial a wrong number to listen to the recording?

A package of light bulbs carries the following warning " Bulb will become hot during use." Seriously?

And my new vacuum even tells me " Put the vacuum away after every use to prevent tripping accidents."

It's a slow night, I'm painting Christmas presents and reading labels in between coats. Right now my life should carry a warning " Repeated exposure may cause you to die of boredom."

Thursday, September 16, 2010

You've gone too far Billy Ray!!!

Driving to work today I hear on the radio that Billy Ray Cyrus and his son Trace are going to be doing a reality TV show about paranormal events and conspiracy theories. It's going to be called: UFO: Unbelievably Freakin' Obvious. it you don't believe me just check out Billy Ray's wikipedia page. Say it ain't so Billy Ray!

Sadly, it's not only so, it gets even worse, of course I had to google it, stealthily at work because there is a conspiracy to limit my social media activity, and over at On The Red Carpet I found the following information:

"The pair will embark on cross-country trips and use "important data" Trace’s best friend, "Silent Franky," digs up on his computer in his parent's basement to "crack the government code surrounding a wide range of potential cover-ups, from political controversies to the existence of alleged creatures to eerie occurrences that have long been in question."

I'm afraid there is a tear in my beer, Billy Ray, cause I'm crying over you! I loved you with a mullet and your Achy Breaky Heart, I loved you and Hannah Montana, although thanks to that show and several years of teasing Mo may never forgive me for her name.

But really? Reality TV? About paranormal events and conspiracies? I just don't know you anymore Billy Ray. I forgave you for the mullet, Miley's purity pledge, which made me throw up in my mouth a little, but I'm afraid this time you've gone to far.

I can no longer hitch my horse to your wagon and hold my head up high. Come back from the dark side Billy Ray, back into the light, you know the way, you even wrote a song about it.

I want my mullet back.
My ol' Camero, an' my eight-track.
Fuzzy dice hangin' loose an' proud.
ZZ Top, they're playin' loud.
A simple time, that's what I miss.
Your mini-skirt an' your sweet kiss.
Things are changin' man, an' that's a fact.
I want my mullet back.

Now I must go block Billy Ray's twitter account- he needs to know how mad I am about this silliness. Besides, Aunt Becky said it was a good idea, and I always do what she says.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The birth heard 'round the hospital

Women are fascinated with birth stories, especially when we are pregnant. We will listen to horror stories about 48 hour labors and huge babies all while envisioning our own serene birth experience. At least I did anyway. I was sure those women had a hard time because they were whiners, liked to complain, weren't in control, you name it, because I knew that wasn't going to happen to me.

I was going to give birth surrounded by mood lighting and soft music, never breaking a sweat or smearing my make up and my delightful newborn was going to come gurgling happily into the world, already potty trained.

Then I woke up. I think all birth stories should be the same- PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, and a baby with a head the size of a cannon ball pees, poops and throws up on you, all at the same time, forever and ever, the end.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea, I absolutely adore Mo and being her Mom is the greatest gift I could have ever received, but did she really need to push her way into the world using my girlie bits as a portal?

Most of the time when I tell people my birth story they call me a sissy and tell me I had it easy. What the freak ever!

It all started exactly as I had pictured, there was no pain, I was practically running laps around the hospital when the doctor told me to walk for an hour. This is gonna be a piece of cake- nothing hurts- life is good.

I was doing perfectly fine, not feeling any pain until the doctor decided I needed pitocin, lots and lots of pitocin, then suddenly I was kicking nurses, screaming and arching up off the bed like I was having Rosemary's baby!

It's too late for an epidural. Exactly what in the hell does that mean? Too late to wake up the anesthesiologist? Cause as long as I'm feeling pain, it's not too late. But that is what the wonderful doctor said and no one would give me drugs. I begged, I cried, I promised to never do it again if they would just please, sweet Mary mother of Jesus- give me a fucking epidural! No dice.

I realize I was only in labor for 45 minutes but we all know time is relative. 45 minutes spent lying on a beach passes in a heartbeat. 45 minutes spent trying to expel a human being from your body lasts about 27 years.

I had my support team, baby's Daddy, my mother and my mother-in-law, all there to help welcome Mo into the world. I wanted them dead. Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't talk to me, stop breathing. Someone rub my back right now, don't touch me, rub my back, don't touch me, why won't you rub my back? I think my head may have been spinning around at that point.

Finally the doctor said I could push, all I remember is the nurse telling me not to push with my face, I had no idea what she was talking about, she told me to be quiet I was scaring the other patients, so I kicked her. I wanted her dead too. Then the doctor told me to stop pushing, Mo was face up and I think he was trying to turn her but I couldn't have stopped pushing if my life depended on it. Mo was like a freight train, she saw the light and was going for it.

Then suddenly, my vagina no longer hurt and the doctor was holding my daughter up for me to see for the first time. All I could think was "Thank God that thing is out of me."

I think I must have temporarily lost my hearing because I never heard Mo cry although everyone said she did. When they handed her to me she was wrapped up like a little baby burrito. I knew in that instant what everyone meant when they said you have no idea how much you can love another human being until you have a baby, because the first time I looked at her I felt like my heart was so big I could no longer breathe.

I started crying, I loved her so. I looked at my little red baby with the head full of black hair and said, "I hope you don't mind being an only child because Mommy is never doing that dumb shit again."

Then when her Daddy bent down to kiss her I started crying harder because I realized she looked like a troll, a cute troll, but a troll none the less.

Lots of sunshine and roses and mood music there, let me tell you. By the next day I was convinced she was the most beautiful baby in the world and the smartest, there wasn't anything my baby couldn't do. I completely forgot I thought she looked like a troll until her newborn pictures came in the mail and as cute as they were I had to laugh at my beautiful little troll baby.

This time 18 years ago I was going through the IVF process that would bring Mo to us. I can honestly say, she was worth every bit of it.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

PINT I work in hell

That One Mom

It's happened... I've become a Utahn!!!

First I want to say, I love Utah, I love living here and I think it's been a wonderful place to raise Mo. I also think that one of the reasons this place is so wonderful is because of the Mormons.

Now having said that, I gotta tell you, those Mormons are a strange bunch, and I'm not just talking about the liquor laws and baptizing the dead. They believe in being prepared. Not your garden variety boy scout preparedness, I'm talking about end of the world, Armageddon preparedness.

I'm from Maryland, their state motto should be "We are never prepared" because every time the weatherman says they are going to get a couple inches of snow, if you don't make it to the grocery store with 30 minutes of that newscast, your family has no bread, milk or toilet paper for a week.

The first winter I lived in Utah when they were calling for snow I did what any good Baltimoron would do, I went to the store. It was freaking empty! My lucky day! I ran around willy nilly throwing things in my cart, giggling at my good fortune. The next day at work I was telling everyone about my luck the night before. They didn't understand, why would you go to the store because its going to snow? Don't you have FOOD STORAGE?

What, you mean like, extra food that you are not actively eating right now? Who does that? Well, I got an education that day. You see, these women don't need to buy milk, they have powdered milk in the basement. Bread? They can make their own, and they have the stuff, IN THE HOUSE, at any time to do it! Neighbors don't ever need to borrow a cup of sugar, they have at least 25 pounds in the basement.

I was freaking amazed. These people are prepared. Most of them have a room in their basement that is wall to wall shelving, filled with- FOOD! You know what's in my basement? The stuff that doesn't fit in the garage.

When the end of the world was coming at the end of 1999 I thought maybe I should be prepared. I had a little bookshelf in the basement and it had our survival kit on it- flashlight, tampons, band aids, granola bars and some juice no one liked. Glad it wasn't the end o the world, you can only live on tampons and granola bars for so long.

Anyway, for the past week or so I've been hearing ads for "caselot sales". All the stores are having them! Stock up now! Save money! So Sunday morning I woke up early, grabbed my debit card and headed to the stores.

Four hours and $200 later I stood in my basement and thought "Who is gonna eat all this shit?" It's important to point out here- I don't cook. So I have no idea what was going through my head as I bought 24 cans of tomato sauce, 12 cans of chili, 24 cans of kidney beans, green beans, corn, black beans, instant mashed potatoes, stuffing, 5-40 oz bottles of ketchup, enough pasta to feed an Italian family of 5 for a year,10 jars of peanut butter, diced tomatoes, chicken broth, sauerkraut,rice, tomato soup, 12 boxes of cake mix and 48 cans of tuna fish. There was no method to my madness, I bought whatever they had on SALE!

I guess if the end of the world comes we can eat green bean and tuna fish sandwiches, except we still don't have any bread, or toilet paper. Guess I better go back to the store.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Smelling Weed with Willey

Once again I went to my favorite place for a concert, Red Butte totally rocks! Joyce and I thought since it was Willey Nelson and all the seating is general admission it would probably be best if we camped out overnight.

Thursday evening we went up with a tent, sleeping bags, chairs, warm clothes and lots of alcohol. It was a great night, we made some new friends and spent a lot of time peeing in the bushes. The security guard told us to be careful there had been a mountain lion sighting, we never saw her.

Joyce was worried that everyone would think we were lesbians and wonder what we were doing in the tent, her daughter told her it all depends on what shoes you wear!

I'm not sure what it says about me that I camped out to watch a 77 year old pot head sing, but it was a blast. I jokingly told my daughter I was going there to smoke weed with Willy.

We did not smoke weed with Willy although we were right in front, someone else did and we could smell it so Joyce dubbed it our "Smelling weed with Willy" night.

A good time was had by all, my P.I.C. was there, making me laugh- she brought an aluminum water bottle filled with her favorite mixed drink and on the bottle it said "I'd do me" then she bit my butt in front of my boss. That woman is freaking hilarious!

I am so fortunate to be surrounded by such wonderful women!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Wine makes you young- Dr. Oz said so

I'm a fan of Dr. Oz. Seriously, who hasn't spend their entire life following that yellow brick road? Ok, I know he's not THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ, but I've discovered he's a really, really smart guy.

I'm never one to jump on the TV talk show doctor wagon. Dr. Phil, really? But Dr. Oz, he's pretty cool, and his books have pictures.

I'm addicted to the YOU series, I have them all, You Staying Young, You on a Diet, You Being Beautiful, You an Owners Manual, You Are One Hot Momma, ok, I made the last one up but I think it's a good idea for his next book.

I am currently re-reading You Staying Young and believe it or not, I've got this stuff down. Dr. Oz is just reinforcing what I already know- red wine is the shit! He even says so no fewer than 10 times in this one book.

He explains it all, some thing in the wine turns on genes that help you stay young. All I care about is a doctor said "Drink wine and you will be young and beautiful" No need to read anymore, this is one beauty secret I can live with, besides when I turned the page there was something about rectal tampons and I decided that even if he does know about wine he just might be a little on the weird side.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

I'm expanding my horizons.....

I love writing. All writing but this blog brings me so much happiness. The fact that all three of you read it and leave me delicious little comments is more than I could ever have hoped for!
I follow some amazing blogs, and one of them is Kludgy Mom, not only is she my kind of mom but she has information, that she readily shares with those of us not in the know.
I am not completely computer illiterate but mostly, I am. My friend Kathryn had to show me how to do those little linky things that I think are so very cool now. She also taught me to twitter. That sounds dirty but I promise, it wasn't at all!
Anyway, now I have bloggy homework and am learning how to do all kinds of cool things. One of those things was to set up a facebook fan page, it all sounds so very vain, but I'm liking it. I feel like I am making my mark on the internet. After all, who doesn't want to read about wine, bad dates, crazy teenagers and the awesome friends who help me survive?
So, if you wanna be my fan-did those words actually come out of the end of my fingers?- you can click the little linky thing on the side and there is my page. I don't really know what to do with it yet but I'm sure as soon as I do, you will be the first to know.
On a completely unrelated note, the wood glue holding my kitchen chairs together is fighting the good fight, but I'm not giving up on it, I've got the teenage boys helping now so before you know it, I'll have freshly painted chairs!
What a week its been already.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Lazy or inspirational Monday?

I'm off today, thank you Labor Day! I've been puttering around the house. I love to create things, quilts, afghans, something new out of something old.

I am in the process of redoing some things I bought to make lovely Christmas presents. This requires a bit of paint and some mod podge. I'll let you know how it goes later.

As I was painting these lovely wooden things I started looking at my kitchen table and chairs. Now this lovely kitchen set was purchased at the local thrift store for the princely sum of 40 bucks. I'm thinking they could be so much more. I've already disassembled a chair, with my little Ivy Love's help, she just loves hitting things with a hammer, and she's a pretty good wiper after you've sanded too.

Later, after Ivy Love's nap, I'm thinking a trip to the hardware store for some wood glue and putty. I have big dreams for these chairs.

I started thinking, wouldn't it be lovely if I could do things like this all day, everyday? A little seed has been planted. Don't get me wrong, I love what I currently do, the people I work with are fantastic and my hours are the best. But, what if.....

What if I could get up every morning and create? Make something beautiful that someone would love? What if, I could work anytime, anywhere, making one of a kind things that display the personality of the recipient?

I will show you pictures of the Christmas gifts, later, those who will receive them read my blog and I can't give away Santa's secrets! In the meantime just know, the wheels are turning....

I think it's time for a change. I'm tired of always feeling like I'm chasing. Chasing money to pay the bills, chasing recognition for a job well done, chasing someone to share my life.

Now that Mo is mostly grown it's time to slow down and do what I love. I've never been much for expensive homes or cars. My happiness is found in people, not things. I'm researching, trying to see what can be, if I pursue my dream.

I'll let you know what happens.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

My talents are legend....

This weekend I decided to have a cookout and invite all the people I love. Lots of yummy food, great company and just enough alcohol to season the night.

I worked diligently preparing all day, chicken, sausage, potatoes, squash, plus plenty of hamburgers and hot dogs for the kids.

I chopped and marinated a ton of veggies, squash, onions, green peppers, mushrooms and potatoes for the foil packet dinners, lettuce, tomatoes and onions for the hamburgers and hot dogs.

I made incredible cupcakes, filled with cream cheese and chocolate chips. I was also going to make a jello poke cake, lemon, lemon, lemon! How hard can it be, cake mix, jello and frost it with pudding. The lemon sounded so refreshing on a hot summer day.

I had a major jello fail. How can this be? I live in Utah, the jello capital of the world, and I fail at jello.

I bought lemon jello and lemon pudding. After the cake was in the oven I started to make the pudding so it would set up in time to frost the cake with it. Measure the milk, pour in the powder and whisk away.

It's not getting thick, isn't pudding supposed to thicken, at least a little while you are whisking? This did not. I was wondering how I managed to buy defective pudding when I noticed the box of pudding sitting on the counter, right where the box of jello was supposed to be.

Apparently I poured the jello powder into the milk instead of the pudding powder. Does not work the same. No refreshing lemon poke cake because although my talents are legend, making jello is not one of them.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010


Dammit! I thought I could do anything, I am woman hear me roar! Well, I just got my ass handed to me by a rolling cooler and some super glue.

My partner in crime and I are going to see Sheryl Crowe at Red Butte. I have a cute little rolling cooler I bought just for the concerts. They let you bring your own food and drink, and trust me, we need a truck but the rolling cooler will have to do.

The first time I used this little cooler the wheel popped off and I have been on a mission to fix it. How hard can it be?

I bought a little bolt to hold it on, but wait, the hard plastic that holds the wheel is cracked. No problem, I have super glue.

Yeah, what the hell ever. Why do they call it super glue? The only thing it will glue together is my freaking fingers. Now I'm sitting here typing this one handed trying to figure out how to separate my fingers so I can pack another cooler, one that doesn't roll, so I'm gonna need both hands to carry it.

And I'm trying to decide what evil needs to be done to the people who invented super glue, and tricked me into buying it!