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Tuesday, September 29, 2009

If I could just get my hands on one of those dream decoders.....

Do you remember the episode of Seinfeld when Jerry scratches out a note during the night of some funny thought that he plans to use in his act, except in the morning he can’t read his note, and neither can anyone else? When he does finally figure it out, it turns out to be not funny at all? That’s almost exactly what happens to me about 4 times a week, most of the time I don’t wake up and write anything down, so I end up waking up with the feeling that something great slipped away while I was sleeping.
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Well, not today folks. Last night I thought/dreamt an idea and I remembered it all night long. I even half woke a few times feeling pretty smug about the great post I was going to write this morning.
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Then morning came, and I remembered, oh yeah, I sure did.  It was this, hold on to your hats. I had this great idea to write about how funny it would be to talk about what it must be like to be a test chef for Hidden Valley Ranch. Are you dying of hysteria?

Me neither. These are the things that go through my head at night.  No wonder I'm so tired in the morning. So, um, well...I don't really have anything to say about test chefs at Hidden Valley Ranch.  You?

Instead let me tell you about this other thing.

Sometimes I fall down. Other times I trip over my brother’s dog. Then I end up with one of these~


But I’m not mad. I mean I know that dog didn’t mean to trip me, besides, like I said, I fall down, probably a little more often than your average grown up, so really, I’m not mad.  But unfortunately when I tripped over the dog I had my cell phone in my hand and now the keypad is stuck on CAPS. So now when I send a text people think I’m yelling at them, not to mention all of my twitter tweets look like I’m having an emergency (or a mental breakdown—which in my line of life is the more likely option). It’s a little awkward.

ANY SUGGESTIONS?

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Viva las Chinchillas!

I don’t care what anyone says, America’s Next Top Model is one of the best things on TV. Hands down, I'm not even kidding. Where else could you hear a 19 year old girl say something like “I know Miss J. don’t like my walk,” ( for those not in the know—Miss J. is Miss Tyra’s dress wearing man friend/runway coach/flamboyant freakshow judge) “but it’s my signature walk and I’ve had it forever and I’m not changing it.” She’s 19 and she’s had that walk FOREVER!! I’m 41 and I've never had a signature walk. I'm really thinking I should get one.

Do you think it’s too late for me?

This is for my sister-in-law, would wouldn't have to rely on me to keep up with current events if she'd watch Top Model every once in a while~




Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I think it's time for a little chat

Yesterday morning I happened to be feeling a little blah, wouldn't you know that's just when I came across this article. Blue is the New Black. It didn't help my mood. I don’t know about all women. I haven’t asked any, I can only speak for myself, but I do wonder why I can’t rustle up some cheery cheer a little more often. I’m sure I wasn’t always like this. In fact I know I used to be a glass half full girl. Nowadays I don’t even think about the glass, I’m just so busy trudging along. Sometimes I get tired of hanging on. Tired of worrying about what everyone else thinks of me. Tired of trying to be better for people who end up disappointing me. Tired of being responsible. Tired of taking showers and eating and feeding my children. I get tired of returning library books on time, tired of checking them out in the first place. Sometimes I want to leave the mail in the box for a week or heck, a month even. I’m tired of answering my phone. Tired of making excuses for others’ bad behavior. Just, you know, tired. Then other days, not so much. Other days I look forward to the mail (Netflix, duh!), and feeding my children. Sometimes I really like other people and want them to call me. There are days when being responsible feels good and days when I NEED to take a shower(um, yeah, MOST days I need to take a shower).

Maybe we women are unhappy because we put too much pressure ON OURSELVES. I don't remember the last time anyone scolded me for taking my books back to the library late or told me I was raising a bunch of malnourished banshees (I don't count unsigned notes that are slipped under my front door). The only person making fun of how I look in my yoga pants is me. The last time I was compared to the mom across the street I was the one making the judgments. Maybe we're unhappy because somewhere along the line reality set in and we realized that most of our wildest dreams aren't going to come true. That's just the way it is. It's possible that my subconcious took a hit when my 12 year old self came to the realization that not only was she NOT going to look like Olivia Newton-John and marry Leif Garrett, but he wasn't even the kind of guy she wanted to marry.
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If only I could stop time, even for a day, if everything could remain still (you know, the kids, the laundry, my dreams of grandeur)while I did a little sorting in my mind. Naturally one day would not be even close to enough time to sort all that goes on in my mind, but maybe it would be enough to get the ball rolling. Maybe I could have a little face to face with that voice that's always telling me I'm not good enough. Because seriously, of all the things I'm tired of, she's at the top of the list. I'm sick of the voice in my head that tells me I should go with her to check out Rick Springfield next time he's at the casino and would it kill me to put on a little makeup once in a while?(--oh wait, that voice is my mother, she's got this huge crush...nevermind).
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I don’t know, maybe talking to yourself doesn't do any good. Maybe my inner self is a snot and won't pay any attention to my outer self anyway. That would be just my luck.
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I’ll tell ya though, the thought of feeling like this-or worse-for the next 30 years……. I'm pretty sure this town ain't big enough for the two of us. I bet I can take her.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I seem to have sprung a leak.

It appears that someone on my security team has slipped my e-mail address to an underground organization of extremely devout and conservative wackos who have an inside connection to government and law enforcement memos and also happen to love bunnies in costumes. When I find out who it was heads are gonna roll. And I’m not kidding this time. This group who has their hands all over my secret contact information is now coming at my inbox from a variety of different crazy pants places and I have received in the last month more nutso political, religious, and kitty/rainbow e-mails than in the entire last two years combined. It's insane. Like the senders.

The subject lines read like the front page of the New York Times-

Social Security 2009 not a joke...serious stuff

LOOOOOOOVE THIS!!!

Warning from the Police(Not a joke)

Jesus left our home this morning

And the ever popular-

I better get this back!!!

I’m getting crap –I mean correspondence -from both of my parents, and judging from their similar tastes in e-mail; if the internet had been around when they were together their marriage may have lasted. Then there is the very unbiased political information I’ve been getting from my brother’s father-in-law (I KNOW!!?). He’s sent me Ted Nugent videos, warnings about our evil president, and urgings to stop the Postmaster General from issuing liberal postage stamps (surely you can see the very real and present danger in that). Rounding it out is a person from my church who has gotten her mitts on my e-mail address because we worked together in a church capacity and is now letting me know how I can help with her local tea party/Glenn Beck loving community organization and also passing along emergency preparedness advice. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good Ted Nugent video and I can always use canning tips, but holy cow, sparkly good luck rainbows is where I draw the line.

It’s okay though, I think I’ve figured out a plan to stop all of them. I am in the process of composing an e-mail of my own, it will have flashing graphics, as well as the trademark FW:FW:fw this is serious open first in the subject line. My letter will tell them about a virus that will cut off all of their e-mailing abilities if they continue to send forwards, but, here’s the genius part, if they stop immediately Microsoft will keep track of how many e-mails they receive but DON'T pass along and when the number reaches 1000 Bill Gates will personally cut them a check for $10,000.00.
I think it just might work.

Monday, September 21, 2009

I’m feeling a little like Rip Van Winkle.

While I was in Virginia life here was moving ahead. It’s slightly unsettling and kind of rude if you ask me.

You’d think my family at least would’ve had the consideration to not make plans for fall break or apply to colleges or get taller (I’m not kidding, one of them grew about 2 inches in 2 and a half weeks) without me. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure no one cleaned the bathrooms the entire time I was gone, maybe that was their compromise.

Anyway, I’m trying to catch up and we’re still working on the remodel, which at this point, to be honest, is starting to lose some of its charm and becoming more chore-like. I’ll have to post some pictures soon, because there is MORE TILE!

PS~I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that our new neighborhood is teaming with packs of Chihuahuas, but it is. They roam the streets like they own the place, usually in groups of 3. It’s like their lucky number or something. Well, this morning one pranced right out in front of my car, I almost ran over it. I think the city might need to schedule one of those controlled hunt things. You know, like they do when the possum population gets out of control in Tennessee?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

What the heck is a triops?

I got home yesterday after being away for 16 days. That my friends, is a LONG time to be gone.
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I'm happy to be here, but I already miss those twins and their little brother and my little brother and his cute little wife in Virginia. This song has been stuck in my head all day.  They Might Be Giants are my niece and nephew's favorite band.
  

Friday, September 11, 2009

It's Really Such a Shame

I’m too busy to read and too scattered to write (forget proofreading and spell checking), which of course means I have tons to write about and a long list of things I’d like to be reading. It’s horrible. You pity me, don’t you? You know…if you felt like it, you could give me a hand (I know you were wondering how you could help), I’m going to link to some of the "news worthy" tidbits I’ve bookmarked lately, a few of them are probably old news already (man I HATE old news), but if you could just read one or two and let me know if they’re worth my time that would be great. I mean, if I don’t need to read that penmanship thing, why bother, right? You guys are the best!
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Here we go, in no particular order-
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Little House in the War Zone*
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The Write Stuff
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What the Public Option Actually Does
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Preacher used juice cans to hijack Mexican jet
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Ellen DeGeneres to Replace Paula Abdul
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I can't tell you how much not knowing what’s going on in the world bugs me. Not to mention, spending time with my mom reminds a person (like me, for example) that you don’t want to stray too far from the beaten path. You don't want to stick your head in the sand, you've got to pay attention. Ya know what I’m sayin? If I don’t keep up with things who knows what could happen? Before you know it I could be sitting around with my family telling them (with a straight face) that the reason I want to be cremated is that I heard hair continues to grow after death and I don’t want to risk anyone seeing my dark roots AFTER I’M DEAD!! I swear on my collection of Smurfette figurines my mother actually told us this, then she told us she’s already chosen a matching urn for her dog. A conversation that unfortunately began when her significant other (and by significant I mean he keeps her out of our hair most of the time--pretty significant if you ask me) told us he has just ordered his headstone and he will be known in the afterlife as “Beautiful Jim”. I guess he’s given up on trying to convince us to call him that while he’s living.
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There’s so much more where that came from. Don’t you wish I had time to write?

Friday, September 4, 2009

Please allow me to make a few suggestions

It's a long weekend.  If you have time and you are not put off by a little language (well, it might be more than a little)and a tiny bit of sex, I highly recommend this book.  It's funny and serious and it had me thinking about the people and relationships in my life and my own mortality and how much I love sarcasm, especially when used in it's proper context.
I strongly recommend that you NEVER see this movie.  And if it's too late for that, I implore you not to recommend it to anyone.  Ever. Please.
But you should totally see this one again.
 Then check out this post.  It's stinking funny. And after you've read it, throw together a closing of your own and leave it in the comments.  I bet those of you who are LDS can come up with some doozys. (Is that how you spell doozy?)
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Finally, I BEG you, seriously, do not ever eat this.  EVER.  Holy Hannah what were they thinking?

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Thank goodness my mom brought over some kleenex

I've gone out of town.

I don't usually go anywhere. Especially alone. But that's just what I've done. Gone somewhere. Alone. Unbelievable.

My brother and his wife had a baby and that's where I am. I've come to help and if the planets align properly I will actually be helpful. One never knows how things like this will turn out, it's a crap shoot. You know what I mean. You want to be useful but before you know it, you're just in the way and you've eaten all of their leftover Easter candy and your brother is wondering what made him think he could trust you with his dogs never mind his kids and you spend the next 5 years not making eye contact at Thanksgiving. Not that my brother even has dogs, but you know what I mean, Crap Shoot.

Coming to Virgina means leaving my family motherless. Which shouldn't be a big deal. My kids are pretty self-maintaining, and I only cook a hot breakfast on the first day of school and their birthdays (if they're lucky), but I've spent a good deal of time and energy convincing myself that they need me. Desperately.

So much so, that I typed 8 pages of instructions for them to follow in my absence. It's quite possible that my family cooked their first meal without me over a bonfire which was no doubt started with a sacrifice of my book of rules, and possibly a chant praising the joy of wearing the same underwear for a week while watching Dirty Jobs after school in lieu of doing any dirty jobs of their own. Though in all fairness they probably didn't cook anything over the fire, because really, ramen noodles and frozen pizza aren't necessarily "open flame" friendly.

My brother told me that it was insulting going to such great lengths explaining things to my husband. He said I should trust that, because he is one of the two parents lording over our children, my husband already knows all of these things which I felt compelled to type out, alphabetize and color code, (let me tell you what-- it was right then and there that I told my brother to mind his own business. Jeez, I don't get all up in his grill (that's street lingo for poking my nose where it doesn't belong) and tell him to stop wasting his life on NASA's website, do I? Okay, well maybe I do. But guess what? Someone has to tell him. He's a grown man for crying out loud.) Don't tell my brother, but later I was thinking about what he said, and I suppose he might have a point. Logically I know that no one will starve or go to school without shoes, and I do trust my husband to feed and clothe everyone and to not forget early release (by the way, it's today at 12:15, would you remind him if you see him? Thanks!), illogically (and let's face it, thats the kind of reasoning I do most of the time) I've convinced myself that by leaving this list behind, my family will be able to feel my influence and love while I'm away.

Yes, I have been told I'm delusional. By a therapist. What's your point?

Look, even though I have a very exciting life as a semi-professional blogger, (you'll probably be shocked by this) I'd say roughly 99% of my identity is being a mom, and I LIKE it that way. I've been gone 2 days and I miss my family insanely, and I hope that somehow they know that what I really meant when I said "No good knives in the dishwasher" and "Please change the litter box on Tuesday" was "You guys are the BEST family EVER and I'm probably going to cry every night from missing you so much."

 
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