Whew! Ok, so I went scrap-booking all weekend. Monday I got the kiddies off to school and went back to bed. Because I can do that ya know. I’m one of “those” moms that don’t “work”. Well, I work….I just don’t get paid for it unless you count sticky fingers and kool-aid kisses – my favorite actually.
Anyhoo, I figure even the Good Lord took a day off, so I’m entitled to one also. Got up in time for my 5 hour lunch with my girlfriend and then the fastest trip through wally-world I’ve ever taken. Had to get home to the family, fix dinner (pipin’ hot chili), help YS with his homework and then it was lights out for me by 8:30. Didn’t even make it through “24” which is my husbands favorite show. That scrap-booking stuff is exhausting!
I read Flo’s post on her pet peeves when it comes to medical shows. I can totally understand her feelings but – not being in the profession – it doesn’t bother me that that much when it comes to ER or Grey’s Anatomy– unless it’s really hokey and then it’s an all new ballgame.
Having said all that and adding the fact that I’m not now nor have I ever been in any type of law enforcement – I can’t hardly watch “24” because it’s so far off base. DH hates it when I watch the show with him because try as I might (and sometimes I really, really do try) – I can’t help but nit-pick the “power of Baur”. So I slept. The entire time. Yeah – DH was happy.
Then yesterday was a “catch-up” day. Well was supposed to be anyway – hopefully Thursday will be a little better. I managed to get a few things done in between phone calls. Not many but enough that DH thought I was busy all day – mission accomplished.
So now that I’ve rambled on and on about nothing important – I’m going to go get ready for my errands and lunch with my MIL. If I don’t blog in a reasonable amount of time – come look for me. :)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
S-L-E-E-P
Gotta have some. The weekend was full of food and friends (I did manage to get some scrapbooking done) and I am exhausted. That is all
Friday, February 23, 2007
Slumber Party
Going to A "Scrapbooking Slumber Party" this weekend!
It's going to be a great time. I'm picking up a friend around 6-ish and we're off for an entire weekend of food, friends and scrappin! I have a lot to get done before I leave so no blog today :(
It's going to be a great time. I'm picking up a friend around 6-ish and we're off for an entire weekend of food, friends and scrappin! I have a lot to get done before I leave so no blog today :(
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Nascar
Did anyone watch the race (Daytona 500) on Sunday?
I felt so bad for Mark Martin. I would’ve like to have seen him win that race. Would’ve been a nice little snub to Roush Racing too.
Mark gave them 23 years of faithful, good driving, a lot of wins (i.e. a lot of money) and they wouldn’t work with him on his retirement. He wanted to retire two years ago but they didn’t have a driver to replace him so he stayed so they could find the “right” driver. After all, this is big business and they don’t want someone in there who will learn all they can and then split. No, they wanted another Mark Martin. A loyal driver – one in it for the long haul, so to speak. So loyal Mark stayed, rearranged the plans he made with his family and stayed. This year, he wanted to drive part time and work on his young son’s up and coming career. But Roush said no. No thanks for the memories or anything – just an ok see ya – I got a new driver now so you can go.
Yeah, it would’ve been nice to see Mark win. With all the durn cheatin’goin’ in the Waltrip camp – a win for a good guy would’ve been sweet.
I felt so bad for Mark Martin. I would’ve like to have seen him win that race. Would’ve been a nice little snub to Roush Racing too.
Mark gave them 23 years of faithful, good driving, a lot of wins (i.e. a lot of money) and they wouldn’t work with him on his retirement. He wanted to retire two years ago but they didn’t have a driver to replace him so he stayed so they could find the “right” driver. After all, this is big business and they don’t want someone in there who will learn all they can and then split. No, they wanted another Mark Martin. A loyal driver – one in it for the long haul, so to speak. So loyal Mark stayed, rearranged the plans he made with his family and stayed. This year, he wanted to drive part time and work on his young son’s up and coming career. But Roush said no. No thanks for the memories or anything – just an ok see ya – I got a new driver now so you can go.
Yeah, it would’ve been nice to see Mark win. With all the durn cheatin’goin’ in the Waltrip camp – a win for a good guy would’ve been sweet.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Scrapbooking
I’ve really gone and done it now. My husband is thrilled, just thrilled. Thrilled with a capitol T. Did I mention that he was thrilled?
A poor crafter is one that can’t come up with any ideas or even be able to copy an idea; a fair crafter can do one or the other but not both. A good crafter can come up with an idea or two – three on a good day, and copy just about anything and have it look good and a great crafter is one that can look at a coat hanger and come up with 101 uses – and they all look/work great. They are the “creative” people.
I fall into the good crafter range. I can copy just about anything (except floral arrangements – I suck at that). I also have several hobbies that I enjoy: sewing, ceramics, crocheting, gardening, needlepoint, arts & crafts, and now my latest one.
I’ve gone and done it. I’ve become “one of them”. I am a scrap-booker. (They say the first step is to admit it.)
A couple of years ago my friends started this hobby and invited me into the fun. I resisted. Big time. No way – no how. I have enough hobbies and things going on in my life that this is just another hobby for me to get into, invest in, get behind in and get frustrated with. No way, no how was I going to start. Then DD turned 16. Jr/Sr prom was a reality. Graduation was a reality.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that life is moving waaay to fast. Not like it hit when I turned 40 and wow! Was I getting old, but more of wow! Life is m-o-v-i-n-g.
For the most part I take pictures on all the holidays, birthdays, etc – all of the usual “landmark” days. I can stick those pictures into an album as good as anyone else I suppose. I can flip those pages and remember when they were taken, I don’t need a date printed on them to remind me. I even brought out an old album to prove my point.
Then it hit me. A simple question. “What’s the story behind these pictures?”, I could remember them but what if I’m not there to tell it?
I wanted DD to be able to take her prom book and show it to her grandchildren and tell them the story of how she felt like a princess getting ready for the evening, how her friends all met at our house and joked about their “limo” (mom’s van), how her feet hurt at the dance and she had to take her shoes off and she wondered if her feel smelled and how the “after party” went great (playing Texas Hold’em) – and she won. I wanted her to be able to tell that story with the help of this album drawing them in. I’m hooked.
I’ve done most of my scrapbooking here at home by myself. I’ve been slowly accumulating a few tools. This is one of those hobbies that can be expensive if you let it. For me the challenge is more of – how to make a page look good for very little money. I’ve gone to friends houses and worked with one or two people but I’ve never had the opportunity to attend a Crop party. Several of us have made the gesture of at least trying to get together as a big group for a while now but it’s always fallen through – it’s a lot of schedules to try and coordinate. January was to be the big one. It was finally coming together and we were all going to be there. The snow and ice canceled the plans for us however. We finally met last week but it was a smaller group. But that’s ok. We’ve decided to set a date (first Monday of the month or something like that) and whoever makes it – makes it and the ones that don’t – we’ll see at another time. We’re also thinking of every other month maybe doing a “weekend” crop and alternate houses. A huge slumber party! I’m thinking hunting season would be a good time for my house!
This thrills my husband in a good and a bad way!
I love doing this and I’ve mentioned to Flo a few times that she should take this up too. She’s one of those “creative” people and would be so good at this! Maybe I can hook up with Holly and get Flo going – then we can make a trip to Texas for a cropping party! That could be her “themed” weekend get away!
A poor crafter is one that can’t come up with any ideas or even be able to copy an idea; a fair crafter can do one or the other but not both. A good crafter can come up with an idea or two – three on a good day, and copy just about anything and have it look good and a great crafter is one that can look at a coat hanger and come up with 101 uses – and they all look/work great. They are the “creative” people.
I fall into the good crafter range. I can copy just about anything (except floral arrangements – I suck at that). I also have several hobbies that I enjoy: sewing, ceramics, crocheting, gardening, needlepoint, arts & crafts, and now my latest one.
I’ve gone and done it. I’ve become “one of them”. I am a scrap-booker. (They say the first step is to admit it.)
A couple of years ago my friends started this hobby and invited me into the fun. I resisted. Big time. No way – no how. I have enough hobbies and things going on in my life that this is just another hobby for me to get into, invest in, get behind in and get frustrated with. No way, no how was I going to start. Then DD turned 16. Jr/Sr prom was a reality. Graduation was a reality.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that life is moving waaay to fast. Not like it hit when I turned 40 and wow! Was I getting old, but more of wow! Life is m-o-v-i-n-g.
For the most part I take pictures on all the holidays, birthdays, etc – all of the usual “landmark” days. I can stick those pictures into an album as good as anyone else I suppose. I can flip those pages and remember when they were taken, I don’t need a date printed on them to remind me. I even brought out an old album to prove my point.
Then it hit me. A simple question. “What’s the story behind these pictures?”, I could remember them but what if I’m not there to tell it?
I wanted DD to be able to take her prom book and show it to her grandchildren and tell them the story of how she felt like a princess getting ready for the evening, how her friends all met at our house and joked about their “limo” (mom’s van), how her feet hurt at the dance and she had to take her shoes off and she wondered if her feel smelled and how the “after party” went great (playing Texas Hold’em) – and she won. I wanted her to be able to tell that story with the help of this album drawing them in. I’m hooked.
I’ve done most of my scrapbooking here at home by myself. I’ve been slowly accumulating a few tools. This is one of those hobbies that can be expensive if you let it. For me the challenge is more of – how to make a page look good for very little money. I’ve gone to friends houses and worked with one or two people but I’ve never had the opportunity to attend a Crop party. Several of us have made the gesture of at least trying to get together as a big group for a while now but it’s always fallen through – it’s a lot of schedules to try and coordinate. January was to be the big one. It was finally coming together and we were all going to be there. The snow and ice canceled the plans for us however. We finally met last week but it was a smaller group. But that’s ok. We’ve decided to set a date (first Monday of the month or something like that) and whoever makes it – makes it and the ones that don’t – we’ll see at another time. We’re also thinking of every other month maybe doing a “weekend” crop and alternate houses. A huge slumber party! I’m thinking hunting season would be a good time for my house!
This thrills my husband in a good and a bad way!
I love doing this and I’ve mentioned to Flo a few times that she should take this up too. She’s one of those “creative” people and would be so good at this! Maybe I can hook up with Holly and get Flo going – then we can make a trip to Texas for a cropping party! That could be her “themed” weekend get away!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Hail to the Queen
It’s been hell here. I spent most of last week as “Queen Lovi”. That’s how I was referred as – and not in a nice way either! Can you imagine?!?!
Seriously though, why is it that I’M the one labeled when, on a monthly basis, men’s brains turn to jelly, the children run with scissors and even the dogs forget that begging from the table pisses me the hell off?!?
Welcome to Hell Week. Years ago after screaming at my late husband that I wanted a divorce because the !*&#@ vacuum cleaner wouldn’t stay plugged in, I went (“ was sent” is probably more accurate) to see my physician. After a few questions and a couple of blood tests there in the office, I was given some pre-printed sheets in which we (my husband and I) had to “graph” my behavior. We did this for 3 months (not looking at each others graphs).
Surprisingly, we both graphed about the same. We basically agreed that, for a few days every month, everyone around me lost the ability to think rationally, to chew with their mouths closed, drive a vehicle according to the laws set forth and just plain live sensibly. It took several days with my eyes turned fire red and my head rotating 360 degrees when I spoke before they realized the wrong path that they had chosen and that I had had enough. Once they realized that, things settled into a more normal period. Until the next month....I can only take it for so long, ya know?
Most people call this PMS – we call it Hell Week. “A spade is a spade” they say, and years ago my late husband and I donned the term to this monthly occurrence before PMS became “fashionable”.
It really wasn’t as bad as it sounds but now that DD looks to be carrying on the tradition, it makes for a mighty interesting week around our house. The fire and brim stone, the power plays. Ahhh….it’s good to be Queen.
Till next month….
Seriously though, why is it that I’M the one labeled when, on a monthly basis, men’s brains turn to jelly, the children run with scissors and even the dogs forget that begging from the table pisses me the hell off?!?
Welcome to Hell Week. Years ago after screaming at my late husband that I wanted a divorce because the !*&#@ vacuum cleaner wouldn’t stay plugged in, I went (“ was sent” is probably more accurate) to see my physician. After a few questions and a couple of blood tests there in the office, I was given some pre-printed sheets in which we (my husband and I) had to “graph” my behavior. We did this for 3 months (not looking at each others graphs).
Surprisingly, we both graphed about the same. We basically agreed that, for a few days every month, everyone around me lost the ability to think rationally, to chew with their mouths closed, drive a vehicle according to the laws set forth and just plain live sensibly. It took several days with my eyes turned fire red and my head rotating 360 degrees when I spoke before they realized the wrong path that they had chosen and that I had had enough. Once they realized that, things settled into a more normal period. Until the next month....I can only take it for so long, ya know?
Most people call this PMS – we call it Hell Week. “A spade is a spade” they say, and years ago my late husband and I donned the term to this monthly occurrence before PMS became “fashionable”.
It really wasn’t as bad as it sounds but now that DD looks to be carrying on the tradition, it makes for a mighty interesting week around our house. The fire and brim stone, the power plays. Ahhh….it’s good to be Queen.
Till next month….
Monday, February 19, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Hugs and Kisses
I'd just like to thank everyone who comes here to my blog and clicks on my ads. Over the weekend I was able to put together two more care packages to be shipped overseas to a couple of our soldiers.
So, a HUGE thank you and big hugs and kisses to you all!
Keep on a clickin'!
Lovi
So, a HUGE thank you and big hugs and kisses to you all!
Keep on a clickin'!
Lovi
Friday, February 9, 2007
How to Stay Young, Part 2
1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay "them "
2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.
3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle. "An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.
4. Enjoy the simple things.
5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.
6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person, who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.
7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge
8. Cherish your health: If it i s good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.
9 Don' t take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.
10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.
3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle. "An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.
4. Enjoy the simple things.
5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.
6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person, who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.
7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge
8. Cherish your health: If it i s good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.
9 Don' t take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county; to a foreign country but NOT to where the guilt is.
10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Ageless...
It seems like this week has been nothing but jokes and jabs about age - especially mine. It's not my birthday either! Nonetheless, my friends and family have made it their minssion in life to remind me how old I am - like I'd forget or something!
Anywho...I received this in my email yesterday. I've seen it before but I love it and wanted to share it.
George Carlin's Views on Aging
Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. "How old are you?" "I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key.
You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead. "How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16!" You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life .. . you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony . . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!
But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed?
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away
Before you know it, you REACH 50 and your dreams are gone.
But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would! So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60.
You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday!
You get into your 80s and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH bedtime
And it doesn't end there. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; "I Was JUST 92."
Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. "I'm 100 and a half!"
May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!
Anywho...I received this in my email yesterday. I've seen it before but I love it and wanted to share it.
George Carlin's Views on Aging
Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids? If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions. "How old are you?" "I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half. You're four and a half, going on five! That's the key.
You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back. You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead. "How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16!" You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16! And then the greatest day of your life .. . you become 21. Even the words sound like a ceremony . . YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!
But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there? Makes you sound like bad milk! He TURNED; we had to throw him out. There's no fun now, you're Just a sour-dumpling. What's wrong? What's changed?
You BECOME 21, you TURN 30, then you're PUSHING 40. Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away
Before you know it, you REACH 50 and your dreams are gone.
But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would! So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60.
You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70! After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday!
You get into your 80s and every day is a complete cycle; you HIT lunch; you TURN 4:30; you REACH bedtime
And it doesn't end there. Into the 90s, you start going backwards; "I Was JUST 92."
Then a strange thing happens. If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again. "I'm 100 and a half!"
May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Tornados
Man, I feel for those people in Florida. The storms that ripped apart their communities last week were vicious – and quick.
The severe storms that produced the 3 deadly tornados happened in the wee hours of the morning when most people are still sleeping, getting those last few zzzz’s. Nor did they know, until it was too late, that the noise they heard was not the alarm going off signaling the start to a new day. Most only had minutes to find shelter.
This scenario is a big fear of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love thunderstorms and everything about them, the noise, the smell of rain, the vivid lightening. BUT, I only love them when I know that they won’t produce tornados.
I’ve been frightened as well as fascinated by severe storms as long as I can remember. As a young girl I clearly remember hovering in the southwest corner of our basement with my brother, 2 sisters and two dogs. (I also remember looking at that same corner as an adult wondering how the HELL we all got into that little space). I remember one time, running to our neighbor’s house because the police were going around the neighborhood telling everyone to take cover and our parents were at Safeway getting groceries. We were scared witless and yet we got into trouble for leaving the house. (I remember thinking a lot of things at the time that happened most of which can’t be put into print and still to this day think we got a raw deal on that one.) I also remember a time where my dad got upset with Fun House Pizza (they make the BEST pizza EVER) because they wouldn’t deliver during a tornado warning! I remember on our honeymoon, winds so strong from the thunderstorm that the trees were bent in half and howled for hours (not much of a mood-maker for me!).Not all are bad memories though. I recall a time that my mom was running through the house, throwing robes at us three girls yelling “get to the basement”! We got to stay up and watch this movie about these “blog-type” monsters on this ship. They had balloons on their feet and it was scary as hell but oh so cool! I can remember being in my mobile home in Minneapolis when a tornado went through and my dad talked to me on the phone for 3 hours to keep me calm (that bill sucked big time!), and on the day we signed the papers to our new home in Owasso, Okalahoma a tornado formed right above our new house.
Really, anyone who has lived in the Midwest has these kinds of stories. And there isn’t any one time that scared the bee-geebies out of me bad enough to develop a phobia so I’m not sure why I have one.
I think the biggest fear is something like what happened in Florida. Middle of the night, it’s dark and can’t see it until it’s too late. My house has a tall tree line on the west side of our property so we can’t see anything coming here so that doesn’t help and I live in a house that doesn’t have a basement – but I’ll have one next time for sure!
You can’t live your life in “What if….” mode and I try not to do that when it comes to these storms. Most of the time it isn’t to difficult. In the 15 years I’ve lived here we’ve only had 3 tornados that were close enough to worry about. Oh and one “wind sheer” (burst of wind coming straight down) that didn’t produce a lot of damage to my home (thankfully). So I guess I can “suck it up” once every 5 years or so and brave the big bad storms!
The severe storms that produced the 3 deadly tornados happened in the wee hours of the morning when most people are still sleeping, getting those last few zzzz’s. Nor did they know, until it was too late, that the noise they heard was not the alarm going off signaling the start to a new day. Most only had minutes to find shelter.
This scenario is a big fear of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love thunderstorms and everything about them, the noise, the smell of rain, the vivid lightening. BUT, I only love them when I know that they won’t produce tornados.
I’ve been frightened as well as fascinated by severe storms as long as I can remember. As a young girl I clearly remember hovering in the southwest corner of our basement with my brother, 2 sisters and two dogs. (I also remember looking at that same corner as an adult wondering how the HELL we all got into that little space). I remember one time, running to our neighbor’s house because the police were going around the neighborhood telling everyone to take cover and our parents were at Safeway getting groceries. We were scared witless and yet we got into trouble for leaving the house. (I remember thinking a lot of things at the time that happened most of which can’t be put into print and still to this day think we got a raw deal on that one.) I also remember a time where my dad got upset with Fun House Pizza (they make the BEST pizza EVER) because they wouldn’t deliver during a tornado warning! I remember on our honeymoon, winds so strong from the thunderstorm that the trees were bent in half and howled for hours (not much of a mood-maker for me!).Not all are bad memories though. I recall a time that my mom was running through the house, throwing robes at us three girls yelling “get to the basement”! We got to stay up and watch this movie about these “blog-type” monsters on this ship. They had balloons on their feet and it was scary as hell but oh so cool! I can remember being in my mobile home in Minneapolis when a tornado went through and my dad talked to me on the phone for 3 hours to keep me calm (that bill sucked big time!), and on the day we signed the papers to our new home in Owasso, Okalahoma a tornado formed right above our new house.
Really, anyone who has lived in the Midwest has these kinds of stories. And there isn’t any one time that scared the bee-geebies out of me bad enough to develop a phobia so I’m not sure why I have one.
I think the biggest fear is something like what happened in Florida. Middle of the night, it’s dark and can’t see it until it’s too late. My house has a tall tree line on the west side of our property so we can’t see anything coming here so that doesn’t help and I live in a house that doesn’t have a basement – but I’ll have one next time for sure!
You can’t live your life in “What if….” mode and I try not to do that when it comes to these storms. Most of the time it isn’t to difficult. In the 15 years I’ve lived here we’ve only had 3 tornados that were close enough to worry about. Oh and one “wind sheer” (burst of wind coming straight down) that didn’t produce a lot of damage to my home (thankfully). So I guess I can “suck it up” once every 5 years or so and brave the big bad storms!
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
CRS
Yesterday YS came home from school all excited...he lost another tooth! Yippeeeee! While this means more money in his pocket, it is nothing but a mere sign of old age to me.
For the past year or so I’ve had problems remembering little things….the tooth fairy (twice), the Easter Bunny, and yes….even Santa Claus’s cookies. I’ve had to come up with some pretty creative reasons as to why the Easter bunny left a basket in the room we use for storage (he must’ve been hiding when dad came down for a midnight snack and left it so he could move on to the next house), or why the tooth fairy left the money on the bathroom sink (couldn’t make it to the bed with all the dirty laundry and toys on the floor). Luckily Hubby has a sweet tooth so he reminded me about the cookies and milk.
I can’t seem to help it. I just plain forget. And it’s catching up to me. See, YS believes. Yes, it’s only because he know the consequences to not believing, but he believes none the less. Since he is my youngest, I can afford to be lenient here, but it’s costing me. Each time I forget is a reminder that I’m no spring chicken. That phrase “you’re as young as you feel” is sort of true and most days I feel in my 20’s….well 30’s anyway. My body can tell me one thing and my mind will tell me something else! And on the days that both body and mind feel old – well, hell, that’s a new blog in itself.
My dad use to have a shirt that said “CRS Syndrome”. It stood for: Can’t Remember Sh*t. At the time I thought that shirt was hilarious.
Now that I have CRS – it ain’t so funny
For the past year or so I’ve had problems remembering little things….the tooth fairy (twice), the Easter Bunny, and yes….even Santa Claus’s cookies. I’ve had to come up with some pretty creative reasons as to why the Easter bunny left a basket in the room we use for storage (he must’ve been hiding when dad came down for a midnight snack and left it so he could move on to the next house), or why the tooth fairy left the money on the bathroom sink (couldn’t make it to the bed with all the dirty laundry and toys on the floor). Luckily Hubby has a sweet tooth so he reminded me about the cookies and milk.
I can’t seem to help it. I just plain forget. And it’s catching up to me. See, YS believes. Yes, it’s only because he know the consequences to not believing, but he believes none the less. Since he is my youngest, I can afford to be lenient here, but it’s costing me. Each time I forget is a reminder that I’m no spring chicken. That phrase “you’re as young as you feel” is sort of true and most days I feel in my 20’s….well 30’s anyway. My body can tell me one thing and my mind will tell me something else! And on the days that both body and mind feel old – well, hell, that’s a new blog in itself.
My dad use to have a shirt that said “CRS Syndrome”. It stood for: Can’t Remember Sh*t. At the time I thought that shirt was hilarious.
Now that I have CRS – it ain’t so funny
Monday, February 5, 2007
Super Bowl Ads
I love Maxine!
However, I for one was disappointed in the commercials for the Super Bowl. I mean, that’s the whole reason for watching the game really. Oh sure, there were a few commercials that made us chuckle. Blockbuster, with their version of high tech pc knowledge was pretty cute, as well as, the Bud Light’s rock, paper, scissors ad.
All in all though, there wasn’t any one ad that really stuck out - the one that everybody has to talk about around the water coolers - kind of funny. It was all just to “bland". Bummer. I can't help but think about the 2.3 million dollars (for a 30 sec spot) that was spent. Man...what I could've done with that money......
One final note – congrats goes to the “amateur” commercial maker who made the Doritos commercial. Good Job! It was as good, and in some cases better, than the guys who were paid the big bucks!
Till next year guess!
All in all though, there wasn’t any one ad that really stuck out - the one that everybody has to talk about around the water coolers - kind of funny. It was all just to “bland". Bummer. I can't help but think about the 2.3 million dollars (for a 30 sec spot) that was spent. Man...what I could've done with that money......
One final note – congrats goes to the “amateur” commercial maker who made the Doritos commercial. Good Job! It was as good, and in some cases better, than the guys who were paid the big bucks!
Till next year guess!
Friday, February 2, 2007
Survivor
I got this in my e-mail the other day and it gave me a good laugh!
A new series:
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids eachfor six weeks
Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean,correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries eachweek.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentistappointment and a haircut appointment. He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on aholiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation).
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house,planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep andall chores are done.
There is only one TV between them, and a remote with dead batteries. Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid songthat comes on TV and the name of each and every character on cartoons.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, which they will apply to themselves either while driving or making three lunches.
Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, atortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.
Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylishshoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try toget through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominalcramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but neveronce complain or slow down from other duties. They must try to explain what a tampon is for when the 6-yr old boy finds it in the purse.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at leastonce to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting. He will need to read a book and then pray with the children each nightwithout falling asleep, and then feed them, dress them, brush their teethand comb their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave the home with no food on their face or clothes.
They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. and then spendthe remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.
They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, "You're not the boss ofme."
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday,height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favoritesong, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to bewhen they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance.
The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate withhis spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and overagain for the next 18-25 years...eventually earning the right to be called
Mother!
A new series:
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 3 kids eachfor six weeks
Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his assigned house clean,correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries eachweek.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentistappointment and a haircut appointment. He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care (weekend, evening, on aholiday or right when they're about to leave for vacation).
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house,planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep andall chores are done.
There is only one TV between them, and a remote with dead batteries. Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid songthat comes on TV and the name of each and every character on cartoons.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, which they will apply to themselves either while driving or making three lunches.
Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, atortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.
Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylishshoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try toget through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on their clothing.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to endure severe abdominalcramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but neveronce complain or slow down from other duties. They must try to explain what a tampon is for when the 6-yr old boy finds it in the purse.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at leastonce to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting. He will need to read a book and then pray with the children each nightwithout falling asleep, and then feed them, dress them, brush their teethand comb their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave the home with no food on their face or clothes.
They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m. and then spendthe remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.
They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to, "You're not the boss ofme."
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday,height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favoritesong, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to bewhen they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance.
The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate withhis spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and overagain for the next 18-25 years...eventually earning the right to be called
Mother!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
A Blonde Moment
DD has asked me not to repeat this story but I just can’t seem to help myself. We sometimes tease her about her “blonde moments” and her “DD-isms” (these are normal everyday words that DD has managed to rework in her own way, in other words, she mispronounces and then accepts them as gospel) but it’s all in fun. A few times though, I just have to shake my head and wonder about her.
DD had to put gas in her car so off she goes. She comes back and is laughing because she didn’t realize just how little she had been paying attention when gas has been put into her car. She’s worked the nozzles, hubby always told her which nozzle but not why he picked a certain nozzle, etc. So she stands there on this day looking at the pump and starts the decision-making process with “eenie, meanie, miny, mo”. The man on the other side of the pump hears this and offers his services. He kindly walks her through the gas-pumping process and she fills her car and heads home. She comes in the door laughing at what a goof she had been and how thankful she was to this man and how she really should have paid more attention to dad, and wow! Did I realize that that was the first time in a year that she has put gas in all by herself with no one else there? (She says all of this is a span of 2.5 seconds. Those of you who know DD know exactly what I’m talking about.)
Anywho, I asked DD how much she paid for gas. She puffs up like a toad and our conversation proceeds like this:
DD: I paid 87 cents or 89 cents. Shoot I can’t remember!
Me: You paid 87 or 89 cents per gallon for gas?
DD (proud as punch): Yep I sure did
Me: At Casey’s?
DD: Well duhhh of course where else?
ME: And you know this is the price you paid because……
DD: It said so right on the pump
Me: Really? Like on a little yellow/orange sticker with black border and numbers? Perhaps right on the front of the pump – maybe underneath a clear window with a changing digital number?
DD: Yeah? Is that not right?
Duhhhhhhh.
Ok – maybe hubby and I should accept a little responsibility here. We probably should have explained the octane numbers on the front of the tank. We assumed (another mistake we made) that DD was paying attention when being helped with her gasoline needs. DD passes the Casey’s store at least twice daily. Did she ever notice the big sign on the corner that has the prices of unleaded and premium gas? Yep, she noticed– and she noticed how much the gas was – per gallon…..and it’s no where near 87 cents a gallon. That just didn’t occur to her that they meant per gallon at that particular Casey’s. Yep, she’s a blonde
DD had to put gas in her car so off she goes. She comes back and is laughing because she didn’t realize just how little she had been paying attention when gas has been put into her car. She’s worked the nozzles, hubby always told her which nozzle but not why he picked a certain nozzle, etc. So she stands there on this day looking at the pump and starts the decision-making process with “eenie, meanie, miny, mo”. The man on the other side of the pump hears this and offers his services. He kindly walks her through the gas-pumping process and she fills her car and heads home. She comes in the door laughing at what a goof she had been and how thankful she was to this man and how she really should have paid more attention to dad, and wow! Did I realize that that was the first time in a year that she has put gas in all by herself with no one else there? (She says all of this is a span of 2.5 seconds. Those of you who know DD know exactly what I’m talking about.)
Anywho, I asked DD how much she paid for gas. She puffs up like a toad and our conversation proceeds like this:
DD: I paid 87 cents or 89 cents. Shoot I can’t remember!
Me: You paid 87 or 89 cents per gallon for gas?
DD (proud as punch): Yep I sure did
Me: At Casey’s?
DD: Well duhhh of course where else?
ME: And you know this is the price you paid because……
DD: It said so right on the pump
Me: Really? Like on a little yellow/orange sticker with black border and numbers? Perhaps right on the front of the pump – maybe underneath a clear window with a changing digital number?
DD: Yeah? Is that not right?
Duhhhhhhh.
Ok – maybe hubby and I should accept a little responsibility here. We probably should have explained the octane numbers on the front of the tank. We assumed (another mistake we made) that DD was paying attention when being helped with her gasoline needs. DD passes the Casey’s store at least twice daily. Did she ever notice the big sign on the corner that has the prices of unleaded and premium gas? Yep, she noticed– and she noticed how much the gas was – per gallon…..and it’s no where near 87 cents a gallon. That just didn’t occur to her that they meant per gallon at that particular Casey’s. Yep, she’s a blonde
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