Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Feast or Famine

No I’m not going to talk about potatoes again. I’m going to talk about men. Feast or famine is the story of my life, and it seems, not just mine, but all single women.

If I am not in a relationship or dating someone men are scarce as hen’s teeth. (Can’t believe I was able to use that ancient expression!) I sit home more nights than I care to think about.

The flip side of that is let me go on one date with someone that I think I might possibly like, and men are crawling out of the woodwork.

I struggle with juggling men. It makes me crazy. I know lots of women who can juggle three or four men at a time but I am so easily confused and often find myself lost in the Clay Canyons.

I want to get to know someone well enough to know if he has potential, but does that mean I shut the door on everyone else? Or do I just date them all while I’m trying to figure it out? And one other thing, I like sex, I don’t want to date for months trying to figure out which one may be Mr. Right and not get laid.


Is there some type of pheromone that people give off when they are dating/married that attracts other people? Is that why so many people cheat? Because they are given so many more opportunities to visit the candy store when they are in a committed relationship versus when they are single?

I have a dinner date tonight and one tomorrow night. I’m tired just thinking about it, especially since it’s freaking cold and snowing. All I want to do is curl up in bed with a good book.

I know one day I’ll miss this, one day when I’m making dinner and picking Prince Charming’s underwear up off the floor, I’ll wonder, why I didn't stay single. But later, when we are snuggled on the couch and I fit perfectly next to him, I will be thankful once again for the love I finally found.

4/365 This is Spring

Freaking snow! on 365 Project

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Post it note Tuesday










Project 365 Day Three

This is my view of the world, Monday thru Friday from 6am to 2:30pm.
Cubicle life on 365 Project

I tried to get a picture of a tumbleweed but it blew away.

I must be Irish



I am convinced that in a previous life I lived through the Great Famine in Ireland and as a result, I am obsessed with potatoes. I have mentioned in the past my peanut butter fixation. I love peanut butter but, if I must, I could live without it. Potatoes are an entirely different story.




I wasn’t always potato obsessed, it started when I was pregnant with Mo. I ate so many potatoes I thought I might actually be giving birth to potatoes. I ate fried potatoes for breakfast, French fries for lunch, mashed potatoes for dinner. And sometimes, when no one was looking, I ate raw potatoes for a snack. My grandmother told me that would give me worms but I ate them anyway.



I remember Christmas shopping with Steve and some friends and I wanted mashed potatoes. They took me everywhere and the world was conspiring against me, I was not able to get mashed potatoes for dinner. I cried myself to sleep that night, life was so unfair.

This morning, I was sitting at work eating my oatmeal, thinking about potatoes. I want French fries, preferably from Crown Burger, with lots of fry sauce and ketchup. Or maybe Sconecutter spicy fries.

I am the Bubba Gump of potatoes. Fried potatoes, French fries, mashed potatoes, au gratin potatoes , hash browns, potato soup, baked potatoes , twice baked potatoes, potato salad, raw potatoes. I’ve even tried potato sandwiches, but the bread messes it up.

After drinking with the girls, I want hash browns, lots and lots of hash browns. The hard part is finding someone who cooks them correctly. I want my hash browns cooked thoroughly, with lots of onion, green pepper and garlic, not just browned a little on each side and flipped.

I love making ham cabbage and potatoes because of the potatoes. I get a big bowl, throw in half a stick of butter and mash it all together, pure heaven! That reminds me, I’m making a ham for Easter dinner, think I’ll make a big pot of ham, cabbage and potatoes.

For now, I need fries, lots and lots of fries……..

Monday, March 29, 2010

Monday....again........all day long

I usually love Mondays, I'm one of those annoying people, ask me how I am, I'm always peachy, fabulous, wonderful.....even if I'm not! Even on a Monday.

This Monday was determined to kick my ass. I woke up at midnight to Mo losing everything she had eaten all day, over and over and over again. Poor kid, I felt bad, but what can you do for them.

So every time Mo ran to the bathroom I woke up. The alarm went off at 5 and I went to let the dogs out. Clementine, piece of cake. Shiloh had apparently not been able to hold it all night so I had a kennel full of poop covered dogs. Lovely.

Let the dogs out, take the kennel apart and take it outside, lock the dogs in the basement. Off to work I go.

I almost didn't want to come home, I knew what was waiting. I had to bathe eight dogs, clean the kenned and then scrub the basement floor because that's where the poop covered dogs spent the day.

Finally it's done. I'm tired. The house smells like a combination of dog poop and vomit and the last thing I want to do it clean. Maybe after dinner I'll have more energy.

I almost forgot, I decided to take part in Project365 ="tired feet on 365 Project">. That's my second picture of 365. I'm trying to figure out how to insert the link here- and trust me it's there, i just don't know how to make it work. Oh well, that's a project for another day, today, I'm tired, smelly and hungry.

Oh the link for project 365 is on the side, that's as close as I got to figuring it out!

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Busy, busy, busy

This has been a great weekend, so much better than last! I'm feeling 100% better and staying busy. Which is not hard to do around here.

These puppies, they really are too cute, getting bigger by the minute. The thing I did not fully think through is the horrible smell created by seven not housebroken puppies when they start eating food. It's yucky! Luckily for them, they are very cute.



My life has become a hamster wheel of feed the puppies, wash the puppies, scrub the basement floor, feed the puppies, wash the puppies, scrub the basement floor. Oh and cleaning up Shiloh's land mines in the back yard. I had forgotten how big, big dogs poop. My tiny little yard may never recover!

I can see the daffodils getting ready to open, my trees are getting fuzzy. I love spring!

This weekend has been awesome. Yesterday was so much fun, Sandi had a birthday bbq for Matt and then I went to the Westerner with my sister and some friends. It was a blast. I'm sure we traumatized more than one person last night!

Since my lovely "boyfriend" broke up with me on my birthday- guess it beats having to plan something- I'm back on the internet dating sites so I should have some funny stories coming. Maybe I'll even meet my prince charming, who knows, anything can happen!

We were also fortunate enough to get to spend some time with our little Ivy love, soon we are taking her and the puppies out in the front yard for pictures. Major cuteness on the way!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Packey and the Yurt

Ever had dinner in a Yurt? Well, neither had I, until my friend's brother was here visiting from Houston and as a group we decided that hiking up mountain, at night, in the winter, to eat in a tent was a good idea. What's a yurt you ask?




"A yurt is a portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia. A yurt is more home-like in shape and build, with thicker walls that a normal tent. They are very very great to live in, and you might consider moving into one if you are planning on becoming a nomad." So says Wikipedia.

Anyway, one of the ski resorts close to home has a Yurt dining experience. You drive up to the resort and hike to the yurt. You have the option of snowshoeing or cross country skiing to dinner, depending on weather conditions. It hadn’t snowed in a few days and the trail was pretty packed so we just walked. The best part? The haul your wine in for you, all the wine you can drink and you don't have to carry it up the mountain.

Now before leaving home I had to decide what to wear. I'm not a winter girl, I do not own winter clothes. A winter coat? I have a trench coat, not a ski coat. Snow pants? Do jeans count? Gloves? Hat? Scarf? I have a scarf and those little stretchy gloves that I keep in the car for when I have to scrape the windshield but as I have mentioned, not a fan of winter so I refuse to dress for it.

My friend said to dress in layers. Layers of what? My jeans fit, not much will fit under them. Then I remember the pajamas the elves brought me for Christmas last year, perfect!


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So I get ready, feeling very outdoorsy and ready for anything in my red long underwear and trench coat. By the time I get to Lee's I've realized the error of my ways, there is no trap door in my pajama's, if I have to pee I gotta take everything off! Better not drink too much wine!

We head up the mountain singing mountain climbing, eating in a yurt songs - just kidding but it sounded good! We are part of a party of 21. Our guide was a guy named Packey, he takes our wine and tells us to follow him.

Fortunately for me it is a beautiful day, that combined with the year long hot flash I've been enduring and I'm warm and toasty on our little hike.

Once at the yurt we find our seats and Packey and the chef tell us about yurts and the wonderful food we will be eating. We just want them to open the wine.

This is to be a five course meal, cooked entirely in the yurt and served to all 21 of only by Packey and the chef. It was amazing, the food was wonderful, the company was even better.

About halfway through our courses Lee and I decide we need to use the ladies room. There are two port a potties just a short little hike from the yurt, and as Packey said, there's a lantern.

We head out into the full dark wondering where in the hell the lantern is, it's very dark, and we are laughing about it. We get to the port a potty which Lee graciously lets me use, since I have to take off all my clothes to pee.

Once in the port a potty it's even darker than outside. I have to take off my layers, my sweatshirt, my turtle neck, my jeans then finally my long underwear. I am now naked in the dark with no idea where the seat is in the port a potty, I'm not feeling for it! My jeans and long johns are around my knees and I'm hopping on one leg trying to feel for the seat with my other foot, all the while laughing my ass off.

Finally mission accomplished now I just have to manage to get my clothes back on in the dark. I come out of the port a potty laughing my ass off and Lee and I head back to the yurt talking about how full of shit Packey is because there wasn't a lantern at the bathrooms.

Back in the yurt we are washing our hands when Packey asked us if the port a potty was ok for us, and we mention how dark it was. What does he say?
"Did you take the lantern?"

Oh, we were supposed to take the lantern that was hanging outside the yurt, not there was already a lantern there! This made Lee and I laugh even harder so we rejoined the men and drank the rest of the wine.

If you get the chance I highly recommend it, it was a wonderful experience and truly some of the best food I've ever had. Although to have as much fun as I did you would have to go with my friends and I'm not lending them out!

Let the catching up begin....

I have so much to say, lots of blogs floating around in my head, it is taking all my self restraint not to post them one after an another and get them out!

It was a yucky weekend, I was sick, sick, sick, but I'm definitely going to live and before I move on to the posts that I owe this blog I just want to share a little of my week last week before I got sick.

It was a wonderful week and I felt very lucky. On Tuesday my first crocus opened it's little face to me, a full six days earlier than last year!



Wednesday was St. Patricks Day, also my best friends anniversary and we had a green potluck at work. My contribution? A wonderful, green, key lime cheesecake mousse. It even looked pretty!



On Thursday things started to get a little blurry as I felt worse and worse but before sliding down the slippery slope to " I feel like shit" I did manage to get a couple pictures of the incredible cuteness that is currently living in my basement.



And if this face doesn't make you go all mushy inside you just might be an android.



I'm not finished, later I'll tell you about my yurt experience.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Post it note Tuesday

I'm so behind but running really, really fast to catch up. Something short and sweet in the meantime! You too can get your own post it note Tuesday from:

Adventures of a Wanna-Be Supah Mommy















Sunday, March 21, 2010

Sick, sick, sick

So very sick. Have much to say and no energy to say it. New posts coming soon. Promise.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Slacker McFly!!

I have been a slacker, bad, bad, blog tender. I promise to make it up to you, I have lots and lots rattling around in my head.
Let's see since we last talked I went to play Bunko, that's always fun, good food, funny women and alcohol, oh and we play a dice game too!
I also got to spend a fabulous day with my Ivy Love, she is growing so quickly, totally becoming a little person now instead of a baby. She babbles away, I have no idea what she is saying but she is pretty intense about it!





Ivy is a great eater, she will eat anything. She and I actually had veggie burgers and asparagus for dinner, her sister had ravioli. So what is she eating in these pictures you ask? Why girl scout cookies of course!

I finally did my taxes, I usually don't procrastinate because I always get money back but this year, that money is going for a new roof so maybe I'm not as excited about getting it as I should be.

Also, Mo and I went to court for her possession of tobacco charge and can I just say that I am disappointed in the court system. I know it's juvenile court, I know it was a tobacco charge, I know I am her parent and it's my responsibility to teach her right from wrong, but I think some support from the justice system would help. She did, after all, break the law.

I was looking forward to Mo going in front of a judge and getting the bejeesus scared out of her. Mo was nervous, sick to her stomach, didn't know what to expect.

We arrive and find the line we have to stand in. There is a 17 year old girl in front of us, the gentleman behind the glass is verifying the information on her citation. We overhear that she is there on a shoplifting charge. After everything is verified she is told to step to the waiting area on the right, she will need to sit through a law class and then pay her fine. WTH!!

Then it's Mo's turn, her info is verified and she is told to step to the next window and the lady there will take care of her. The woman at the next window asks Mo if she is aware of her rights. Mo has the deer in the headlights look.
"You have the right to an attorney, you have the right to go before the judge, or you can admit guilt and pay your fine."

Mo says " I have the right to remain silent, I choose that one!"
The lady behind the glass laughs, gives Mo the paperwork to pay her fine, tells her she will have 30 days and to try to pay half of it by that date. She also gives her a card for the Quitnet and tells her to call it, " We can't monitor that," she says, "but we are required to give you the card."

As we walked away I was very disappointed. What happened to community service? What happened to consequences and taking responsibility? Mo is paying her fine so there is a small amount of pain involved, but nothing really. What about the shoplifters? Where is the threat of this ruining your life, restitution, righting a wrong?

I'm disappointed, in my child's decision making skills, in my parenting skills and in the juvenile court system. We are letting these kids down instead of lifting them up by showing them how their decisions affect everyone. And by allowing them the opportunity to learn through service to others. I think ten hours of community service to pay a $60 fine would have more of an impact than just paying the fine. Maybe I'm wrong.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Fostering





Mo and I have a new love! Her name is Shiloh and she has 7, count them, 7 puppies! We decide that since we both would like another dog but are not ready to commit, fostering dogs would be perfect. All the love, mess and noise, but no long term commitment.



I assumed we would start on a much smaller scale. The lady with the foster agency called and said they had a ten year old mini pin that was stuck at the shelter, could we take him? Of course we said yes but in the nick of time they found him a home.



Today Charity called and said please, please, please, we have a lab momma and her babies, can you help? Well of course we can! Little did we know that babies meant seven but what the hell!



Charity and Stacy, wonderful women, brought Shiloh and her babies to us today. Shiloh is wonderful but unfortunately she may be doomed. She is a black lab, black dogs have a lower adoption rate than any other color dog. She is also only three years old and this is her third litter. Needless to say her nursing area will probably never return to normal. Her teats hang almost to the ground, poor girl has been bred too often and too closely together.

Whatever happens Mo and I will love Shiloh and the babies while we have them and hope that something wonderful awaits them.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Are your legs painted on?

My lovely daughter is 16. Big enough that she should be able to walk under her own power, she is not handicapped in any way, so why am I still carrying her?

We used to laugh and say Mo thought her legs were painted on until she was about 5 because before then, her father and I carried her EVERYWHERE!

I mean everywhere. We went to the grocery store, I carried her from the car to the store and back again.

We went to my sisters, I carried her from the car to the house, and back again. I carried her to bed more times than I can imagine, and that didn't stop until she was about 12.

We went to Moab when Mo was five. Steve and I took turns carrying her all the way to delicate arch. It's a few miles, we carried this kid.

Two weeks ago I picked her up from her father's to take her to work and somehow she managed to forget that she was NOT WEARING SHOES! So what do I do? Give her a piggy back ride into the mall so we can buy her another pair of shoes.

Now, my friend is coming over watch movies and Mo feel asleep on the couch. I woke her up to tell her she either needed to share the couch with us or go upstairs. My baby girl looked at me with those eyes and held up her arms for Mommy to pick her up. So I carried my baby girl all the way upstairs to her room.

Now just in case you are thinking either Mo is really little or I've been working out I want you to know that I am exactly one half inch taller than my baby and outweigh her by about 20 pounds. It's a mom thing, that's all I can say.

I barely made it up the stairs and down the hall before we both fell on her bed. When I put her down I felt like I was floating off the ground. Who needs the gym? Just have a teenager who thinks she is still five when it's convenient.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Juvenile delinquency, at it's best

So, my lovely, wonderful Mo, got busted smoking a cigarette and has to go to court. Really? Court? For a cigarette? Don't get me wrong, I do not want my child to smoke, but seriously, court? I have to take a day off work and go to court with her? She has to pay a fine, as well she should, and then she and I have to attend a Mommy and Me "Why smoking is bad" class. WTF? I wasn't smoking! I remember when Mommy and Me meant something fun, not a court ordered class. So begins my beloved daughters foray into a life of juvenile delinquency.

So of course she is grounded until she is dead, her father, her aunts and I have lectured her until her ears are bleeding. So tonight she and I are bonding.

Like any mother worth her salt I believe hard work is essential to bonding so I decide she will help me rip up the carpet and padding in my room so I can begin the remodel. She tried to get out of it, I remind her about being grounded until she is dead so she begrudgingly agrees to help.

It's kind of fun, pulling up the carpet from the tack strips, rolling it up and then wrestling it down the stairs, out the front door and into the trash can. Once it's in the trash can I realize that even folded in thirds it is over seven feet tall. The trash truck will never take it so we wrestle it out of the trash can and into the truck of my car. After much giggling and grunting we manage to wedge it into the truck and I strap it down with bungee cords.

"What are you going to do with it" asks my innocent child.

" We have to wait until dark, and then go put it in the dumpster by those apartments across the street." Mom always has the answer.

" Why do we have to wait until it's dark?" she is so innocent.

I'm kind of stumped because I realize that not only am I encouraging my budding juvenile delinquent to break the law, I'm actually about to teach her how!

"Well, you're not exactly allowed to dump your stuff in a dumpster that is not yours."

Back in the house we go, Mo practices the song on the keyboard she is learning to impress her Daddy and I continue to rip up baseboards.

Finally it's dark, as Mo gleefully tells me and then asks,
" Are we gonna get rid of the body now?"

This is bad, somehow this has become a game and now we are getting rid of a dead body instead of a roll of unneeded carpet.

Into the car we go, sitting low in the seats like the criminals we are, and make our way to the apartment complex.

We find the dumpster all the way in the back and since we had to shove the carpet in the trunk it takes some serious pulling and grunting and more pulling to get it out. Once out the damn thing opens up like those bake and serve rolls, once you pop that thing open, those rolls are not going back.

Now we are laughing so hard we can't lift it. We drag it to the dumpster, we can't lift it up and put it in the dumpster because it's all floppy, and as Mo reminds me, there's a body in it. We prop it up next to the dumpster as headlights come around the corner. Suddenly we are running and hood sliding like Bo Duke, Mo slams the trunk we jump in the car and take off, careful to maintain the posted speed limit of 10 miles an hour.

As we leave Mo is giggling about what incompetent criminals we are, can't even dump a body in the dumpster, we had to leave it propped against it.

We get home safely, taking the back roads in case anyone is following us. Mo goes in the house to practice the song she is learning and I am left to ponder the lesson I just taught my darling daughter.

Guess that's just one more thing she can bring up in therapy when she is telling them it's all her mother's fault.