Well, it's about time.

I've been gone a while, recovering. Just to show you how much I love you, I'm going to share with you the top ten list that I wrote....

IN THE HOSPITAL....

WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HEAVY DUTY PAINKILLERS...
(my drugged handwriting was not easy to read, mind you, doing my best here.)

My gall bladder and I have agreed to a divorce. It was an emergency divorce, as our relationship deteriorated VERY rapidly. One day I didn't know it existed, and the next, it was a sadistic time bomb holding my midsection hostage. 

Our parting was not amicable.


MY TOP TEN FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT BEING IN THE HOSPITAL:

10: Intubation: I was asleep during the intubation process, but the resulting damage to my voice surprised me. As a result, I can now do a spectacular impression of a 97 year old chain smoker.

9. SCD: Successive Compression Devices (I had to call the nurse's station to find out what these things are called). They go on you lower legs, giving gentle pressure periodically, in an effort to prevent blood clots. They also give you the sensation that 18 cats are living at the foot of your bed, kneading your covers.

8. "Liquid" Diet: after six days of absolutely NOTHING to eat or drink, I was allowed to partake of a liquid diet. For some crazy reason, I didn't find the IV fluid very satisifying... My first meal was Chicken Broth. It was the nectar of the gods.

7. Morphine Dreams: I dreamed my house was clean!CLEAN! As I have written this in my hospital bed, and have not been home to verify, I'm clinging tightly to my delusion. Each time I woke up, I was presented with a different delusion: I heard water dripping and thought I was underwater, once woke up to what I thought was Pack Meeting (just a nurse in yellow scrubs), and  the list goes on and on...

6. Rubber-neckers. Just because the nurse left that door open doesn't mean you get to try to look up my skirt. Seriously?

5. Respiratory Therapy. It's like carnival game that you CANNOT win. Maybe if they painted an angry bird on it, or made it a team sport instead, I might be more motivated. I'm obviously not dead, so I must be breathing, right? Leave me alone, already.

4. Drugs. Drugs are a wonderful thing when you are hurting. It's good to have professionals who know which drugs work for what, and to have someone anticipate your pain and prevent it from happening in the first place (Kudos, excellent nursing staff!). 

3. Frozen pizza, burritos "wit mardain bragnegz" (I have no idea what that means, but I wrote it down, so it must be something?) As long as these things are in the house, my children don't even apparently NEED parents. Eclair's last question to me when she called earlier wasn't about my hospital stay, or the surgery, but instead "This is my can of oranges, right? I don't have to share with anybody?" (so I guess "mardain bragnegz" is mandarin oranges on morphine.)

2. I think I must have fallen asleep, because there aren't any more after that.....

Instead, I'll tell you another story! When they rolled my back to my room (try not to picture Violet Beauregard, please), there was a small gathering of nurses outside my room. They handed me a piece of cardstock with four photos printed on it. They were pretty excited when they said, "Your doctor left this for you!"

It was four gory and disgusting photos of my gall bladder, and the stone it contained.

The gall baldder was the size of a ruby red grapefruit.

The stone was the size of a large avocado pit (and strangely enough, the same color and shape...).

The photos were too graphic to share (MOM! THAT IS SO GROSS!), so I drew you a picture instead:

So you can see now why we parted ways. The size of this monstrosity made me a minor celebrity on the fourth floor. At every shift change, the incoming nurse and assistant would come and introduce themselves, and by the way, can we see your pictures?

I rang for assistance in the early morning hours, and an orderly came in to adjust something for me. He wasn't from my nurses station, he said, he worked on the other side, but thought he'd come help because he had a minute, and they said you have some pictures?

Last nurse before I came home said she had seen one bigger. Then she looked at the photos, and said, "well pretty close..."

I'd rather garner noteriety for something awesome like growing an extra toe. No such luck.

So back to blogging the insanity that is my life.
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Messin' with people.

A funny thing happened on the way to work this morning....

Back story first: Luke Skywalker & Eclair are home from school puking (ah, the glamourous life I lead...). I need to go to work. So I can have a job. And make monies. And pay for Christmas. And get away from the puking, actually.

Since I have an unemployed married daughter, I drafted her into service. Called her at a little after 8am and asked her to act as auxillary mom today. I'd have to drive to Spanish Fork where she lives and come get her, but it would be worth it.

I allowed her enough time to become fully concious and bathe and find her purse (during which time I put gas in the car and went to Macey's for Popsicles and Seven-up). When I picked her up, I thought it would only be right if I got her some breakfast before throwing her under the bus that is my sick children.

We went to McD's. The one by her house that just had a corporate audit, so they're on their best behavior. And this was our order:

Two sausage muffins
Two large Dr P
Two apple pies

And then I did a hateful thing.

When Drive-up-window-dude was handing me my drinks, I said "Now which one is which?"

I have never seen such a horror stricken face. A face that said "WHAT HAVE I DONE" like he had just murdered someone. Two dark cola looking drinks and neither had any of those little lid button do-hickies pushed in. Beads of sweat suddenly appeared on his forehead, and he aged before my eyes.

This man's world came to a grinding halt.

And then he looked at the order.

Two large Dr. P

And a grin broke out on his face. "I AM VICTORIOUS. I HAVE NOT SCREWED UP. This insane woman is just messin' with me."

"Have a great day, ma'am!"



I seriously need to do that more often.....
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Hairspray

I seem to be ranting about hair lately. First, the sugar shampoo, now the ineffective hairspray.

I didn't buy a bargain one this time, just the same old brand I've been using forever. The bottle from the bathroom had mysteriously gone missing, as things often do in this house, so I just pulled another from the hall cabinet.

I don't really know why I wear hairspray anyway, I spend the entire day running my fingers through it in frustration, working it loose so my hair isn't so cripsy (maybe I should look at changing brands, after all). I suppose I just don't like the way my hair goes completely flat when it snows or rains or hails or is foggy or is hot or rains or snows ...again... So I suppose my method is "spray it into submission, then wrangle most of it loose for some kind of happy medium." Without hairspray, my hair quickly looks like THIS (click the link, I dare you).

But for the last few days, the hairspray didn't leave my hair tacky or anything. It was soft and manageable, but then would go flatter as the day progressed....almost like I had forgotten to put it in or something.

Getting ready for church Sunday was the last straw. I sprayed the hair, as I had the previous two days. Adding more just seemed to make it worse.  Finer mist than is normal, since I got this new bottle from the hall cabinet, I complained to Screamapillar that my hairspray didn't seem to be working.

She said she had noticed it too. Perhaps she could get a thumbtack and make the hole bigger for me? No, I'll just work with it, thanks.

I take a closer look at the bottle, to see if perhaps I had gotten "Super Limp Formula" instead of "Extra Hold." Funny thing, there is no label on this pink bottle. None at all.....so I do what any rational human being would do: taste it (well, I did smell it first).

Anyone like to explain why this bottle is FILLED WITH WATER?

I've been spraying my hair with water for the last two days. This pink bottle was the really the misting bottle I made a year ago for ironing, which some helpful person removed from the sewing shelf and put in the hall cabinet thinking it might actually be misplaced hairspray. Thank you, helpful person.

Church starts in ten minutes. There are no more pink bottles in the hall cabinet. The original pink (nearly full) bottle I used three days ago is MIA.

Here's how desperate I was: I REALLY looked at the spray starch. REALLY. How bad could it be to put spray starch in your hair? But thought, no, I'm not sure how well that would work without applying heat. Then I started seriously calculating how much Modge Podge diluted with how much water would make hairspray? And isn't white glue the same as Modge Podge, I'd just have to dilute it more? Or Thing Two's hair gel - that might do the trick, except that would look REALLY BAD.

WHY oh why, why do I practice these economies, one bottle of hairspray shared between six people. It has only set me up for disaster.

And then I came to my senses and started to use my brain. There is a nearly full bottle of hairspray, likely still in this house. So I search the gril's rooms, which ends with no hairspray and a deep and abiding desire to make a bonfire from their clutter. There is no point in searching the boy's rooms, since Thing Two uses wax or gel, and Luke Skywalker is forcibly hair-sprayed by me only on special occasions. Perhaps he has hidden the hairspray to spare himself from his mother's attentions? No, he doesn't think that far ahead (but I checked the boys rooms anyway).

IT has to be here SOMEWHERE.

As a last resort, I check the location nearest to where it went missing. And that was where if was found. At the bottom of the bathroom trashcan (which, luckily, was not filled with anything vile).

I was late for church. But at least I didn't look like Prince Valiant. And that's what is really important anyway.
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Weighty matters

Hubby and I have become.....sedentary. And weight gain has been the unfortunate result. I started a diet a couple months ago, and I'm down 15 lbs. I've been gently encouraging Hubby to join me in the quest to rediscover my waistline, and I think I might have sparked a little interest. Here's the conversation we had in the car this morning on the way to work:

Hubby: I've started a diet!

Me: Really.

H: It's a PIE diet!

M: A PIE diet? (thinking that PIE would be some kind of acronym and forgetting that Luke Skywalker's leftover birthday pie is still in the fridge...)

H: YES! I eat nothing but pie! Pie is good, right? I has healthy things like bananas! And it includes the Sugar group!

M: I'm not sure if that is a good thing.

H: Yeah, it is! Whipped cream has like some kind of milk in it, right?

M: *facepalm*

H: The best part is that when we run out of pie I can't eat anymore and I will lose weight. WIN!

(I think he presumes that I have forgotten that Thanksgiving is next week, and that pie will become a staple over the next six weeks. I predict weight gain.)
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Home Alone

As mother was too busy and frazzled to update the blog, I figured I'd fill all ya'll in.

Mother exhibited her mad skillz by sewing wedding party dresses for myself, Screamapillar and Eclair. She also took some 400 bridal portraits of Felicity, edited said photos, and made some adjustments on Felicity's dress for comfort sake. She also did many much more things that I can't even recall because they were so numerous. So I publicly thank mother for all her amazing work and to say, WE LOVE YOU MAMA!

She did all this in time to leave with the family yesterday afternoon (And managed to get everyone out of the house within two hours of the original goal time, which I think is a new record) to head to California for the wedding. Alas, I have work, so I get to stay here which means...I am the only one in the house.

O.O

Score.

So anybody wanna guess what I did once the whole family left for California and I had the house to myself?

Did I eat ice cream and go on a chick flick binge?

Did I watch the entire first season of "Angel?"

Or did I go attend wild parties and come home at 3 am?

Maybe I had A BOY come over. *GASP*

Well you'd be right about one thing...I spent the night with a boy.

Remember this guy?


As illustrated in this photo, Gus is a cat of very little brain. Shortly after this picture was taken, I turned the faucet on and he merely looked at it in bewilderment before realizing that he was getting wet. Sometimes, he reminds me of the "Simple Dog," (of Hyperbole and a Half) . On any given day, he will be lounging on the floor of the most inconvenient walkway possible. He will sit on the shelf next to Stevie's cage and wonder at what this small creature is, before forgetting that there is glass and running into it. My personal favorite is his complete lack of self preservation instinct, which leads to lack of coordination and general adoration/coddling/being carried around like a toy dog from small children. But I digress.

Last night, I spent my time trying to teach our special cat to jump out through the downstairs bathroom window (at ground level!) so that he could get outside on his own. Muffin, our angelic cat, figured this one out on her own. In fact, she's the one that taught us to do it. Gus...just doesn't get it. Either he's afraid of heights, or he just doesn't understand the concept of "Climbing."I have tried everything short of climbing out the window myself to illustrate that said window can also be an egress, but he fails to comprehend. I even put him outside while it was raining, and then called and waved to him through the window to get his attention, but he simply stayed by the door I put him out of and meowed to be let back in. I'm just going to make sure the litter-box is clean and all the doors are closed and hope for the best.

Stupid cat.

EDIT: in my own defense of not being a COMPLETE cat lady, I also did various cleaning around the house in addition to trying to educate the cat. I also attended a choir rehearsal. So I'm not a COMPLETE lost cause.

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What were YOU thinking?

Okay. If you have a blog or are even remotely familiar with blogger you probably know about your stats. No? well you should. It's the place on your dashboard where you can find out really valuable information. Like how many people stopped reading your blog because you're a loser (meaning me, the loser).

Stats is where I go to see where in the world you are, people reading my blog. And how you got here. Did you click a link on Facebook? Are you a follower (my absolute favorite - I get absurdly happy when that number goes up, and cry in a closet when someone leaves me...)  or get notifications through Google reader whenever I get my act together and post? Did you click a link from your own blog, or a friend's blog? Did you see a post linked up from some random craft I posted out there on the interwebs?

Or did you search for me? Did you really miss me so much that you tried to find me using Google? Or Dogpile? Or whatever?

Did you know that I can see the words you used to search for my blog?

Well I can.

And whoever found me using the key words "chicken leg ficus plant," you've really got me concerned about your mental health. You worry almost as much as whoever used "a picture of a cricket getting burned by a flashlight."  Eeww. Srsly?

What is a "chicken leg ficus plant" anyway? And why would you look for one? On purpose? As for the cricket hater, I can't imagine how that combination of words brought you here.

But I hope you both stopped to read a little, and forgot about the search that brought you here. Because nobody should be out there trying to burn a poor innocent cricket with a flashlight anyway.
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Did you miss me?

Well, I hope you did. I realize it has been a week since I have posted, and I have failed. I set a goal to post twice a week at minimum, and unless I post again today, it ain't gonna happen.

And here's why.

I have nothing to say.

Life has been kicking me in the shins, and while the daily list is LONG, I don't seem to be accomplishing much. I'm really ready for February to be over, to get over these winter doldrums and move on to the next thing, which would hopefully be spring.

So, since I have failed you, faithful blog reader, I'm going to give you something to read that will make you smile or laugh, and hopefully brighten your day (which is truly the point of this whole blogging thing anyway). Click one of the links below to find a post by someone who makes me laugh, I hope you enjoy.



My neighbor Steve is hilarious. His blog, It Only Hurts in My Brain, It is a constant source of amusement for me, I wish he posted more often.

I read Lovely Listing often because you really never know what to expect. Makes me feel better about my own house.

I love "Hyperbole and a Half"  even though it has too many unnecessary swears. I trudge through it to get to the hystecial parts. This expletive-free post is wonderful because I, too, find is necessary to mentally correct other's misspellings (because I am perfect and gramatical never or spellling errrors make).

TAMNers has retired, but if you're a Mormon Mommy Blogger like me, you will appreciate her past posts at Seriously, So Blessed. Hilarious, and unfortunately I know people like this....

Last stop for today is Dave Barry's blog - so full of completely random and bizarre funny things. Check it today's post "Man accused of drunkenly urinating on chicken at Arkansas grocery store."


I am hoping to dig myself out of my hole this weekend and have something to share by Monday. Really. Truly.

Because hopefully SOMEbody missed me?
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Our Happy Little Nerd Herd Family

I should preface this post with the fact that...our entire family is made up of nerds. Us as children never had a chance - Dad proposed to Mom using the riddle game from "The Hobbit." To this day some of my fondest memories are of dad rolling us back in the banana chair as the Enterprise-D activates the warp drive. My 1992 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser has been dubbed, "The Millenium Falcon."* Dad is a Lord of the Rings aficionado, Mom is an Orson Scott Card addict.

I am a roaming nerd, and pick up a new "Fandom" every six months or so. Thing Two is a Halo Addict. Screamapillar will tell you her vice is soccer, but it is in actuality Dr Who. Luke Skywalker is a lego/bionicle/star wars/anything-with-small-parts-that-hurt-to-step-on fan, and can tell you its lore for hours and hours. Eclair has yet to find her nerd-niche, but give her time, people, give her time....

Tonight I was viewing Star Trek (2009) with my parents. The following conversation took place tonight, and had me pausing in moderate disbelief that this kind of occurence is completely normal in our household.

Mom: Wait. That's not right! They're building that on the ground!

Dad: No they're not, it's...They're shuttlecraft.

Mom: No, its the Enterprise.

Dad: That's not the Enterprise.

Mom: They're building the ship on the ground! That's wrong! Karen, rewind and pause it.

Dad: No, it's not.

Mom: That IS the Enterprise!! Look! (She gets up and gestures at the screen.) Deflector dish, warp nacelle, saucer section, warp nacelle!

(Dad is quiet for a minute)

Dad: I dont like you. You ruined it for me. I'm going to get some ice cream.

RESOLUTIONS

It's that time of year again, time to make spectacular goals and then fail when it comes time to reach them. Since they're not gettin' done anyway, lets make them great!

This year I resolve to:

Keep my house completely clean every single day.(Stop laughing, right now.Yes, I know that this will not happen until everyone moves out, including me.)

Lose all that extra weight and get back to a size nine (The last thing that I wore that was a size nine was my wedding dress. 22 years ago. And we're dreaming here, so anything is possible!)

Get organized - have a place for everything and everything in it's place (Actually, I have half-acheived this -- I do have a place for everything. But everything is not it it's place - it's mostly in something else's place, or on the floor. This allows for easier access, right?)

Be on time to sporting events, concerts, and everything that starts at a specified time. (Of course to reach this goal, I may have to leave behind the athelete or performer I am going to see at the specified event, but the important thing is to be on time, right?)

Spend less time on Facebook. (Yeah, right. Getting right on that after I finish this game of Scramble. I'm trying to beat Melissa's high score, okay?)

Park my car in the garage again. (I think the garage is that big giant room with the really big door currently being used as a storage unit for stuff that's not mine...)

Inherit a million dollars. (From whom, I have no idea. I don't know anybody with a million dollars. But wouldn't it be ideal to inherit it from someone I do not know, who lived a really full life and was happy to die and leave me the million dollars? Yep. Ideal. Then I could buy Thing One some snow tires or chains for the Iceberg On Wheels.)

Be glamorous and stylish and perfect in every way. (Oh wait, I already AM!)
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A Little Broken Piece of my Heart

A small piece of my heart broke yesterday.

I woke up December 17th, 2010 at 6:30 AM. I knew my car had to be scraped and started if I was not going to be driving an iceberg on wheels to work. 6:45, my friend Sarah sends me a text.

"Provo Tabernacle is burning down."

At first, I was trying to see how that statement worked, Sarah's statements sometimes being non-sequiter. Then my stomach begins to sink.

I ran upstairs and turned on KSL--nothing, just the weather. I go back downstairs and wake up mom, telling her I'm not sure, but I just got a text to telling me what happened. We both run upstairs, and now the news has changed to the traffic--focusing on the closing of the main streets around the Tabernacle. It then went to footage of the Tabernacle.


I started choking up.

I finished getting ready for work, and mom got dressed to head down to take pictures. Throughout the day at work, I discussed it with a lot of people, via text, IM and facebook. Mom shared with me the photos she took when she went down.




After work, I briefly drove downtown and could see all the firetrucks, and the pillar of smoke coming out from the ruins. Seeing the roof gone really...kinda started to make it sink in.



I had a concert, Carols and Confections w/ the Maple Mountain High school that night, so after driving through nightmarish construction traffic, I was there. Every time the rental organ played, my mind turned to the Tabernacle back home that was still burning.

On my way home, I battled the construction again, as well as snow. Mom and the kids met me downtown to look a where things stood. I held it together until I saw one of the pillars that held the balcony up standing free, silhoutted through the window. I walked around the building to the south side with mom, which was where I really lost it.

A light fixture in the doorway of the south side entrance. The heating vent right above it, between the stairs that used to lead to the clock tower. I heard part of the south-east tower stairs collapse. I could see through the melted and broken windows to where the organ should have been to the smoky sky. Flames could still be seen through the windows and busted doors.

Our whole community is heartbroken at the loss of not only a religious meeting place...but for the loss of a piece of HISTORY. This is one of the oldest buildings west of the Mississippi. Older than the SLC tabernacle.

I love that building. I have known that building for as long as I can remember. Growing up, our stake conferences were held there, and I have distinct memories of mom hissing at me and my younger siblings to get way from the balcony before we fell and DIED. I remember trying to slide down the banisters. I remember countless concerts over the years. I remember Screamapillar at the age of three singing, "I am a Child of God" with her little friends at stake conference. I remember the first time I heard the organ play during a dress rehearsal for our annual PHS Masterworks concert. I remember another Masterworks concert, performing a positively DISASTEROUS rendition of "Come Thou Fount."

I have so many memories of that wonderful, sacred building, and it breaks my heart to see it like this. And yet...there is still hope.


The miracle is not the fact that the image of Christ in the Second Coming is preserved. It is what it symbolizes. Christ is always there. He will ALWAYS be there for us, despite what fires of the world will try to destroy us. It cannot destroy Him.

Going back again to the ruins tonight, the fires finally extinguished, there is still a sacredness there, even among the ruins of that wonderful building that was dedicated to the Lord. I have felt it, and even in the face of this tragedy, I have found my faith strengthened. While the physical and monetary loss is great, the Spirit of God remains, and will never leave us.

Tomorrow night I will perform in another dedicated building, the Assembly Hall on Temple Square in SLC. I hope that I can share this testimony of faith and never ending spirit with those who come to see us perform.

While I will miss this building, and it hurts, I find comfort in God, and a true phrase I have written in my journal.

"And this, too, shall pass."

I like to think that with God's help, we can make it through and become better in all ways.

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A picture of mom comforting a woman ended up picked up by the AP, and you can see it on the CBSNews website HERE.

Daily List

Every day I make up a list of stuff I gotta do. I've been doing it since the dawn of time. I love to cross things off, even if they are stupid things like "drive to work" because then I feel like I might have actually accomplished something today.

I'd like to share with you the most recent items that really need to get done, but never quite get off the list:


Finish hanging Christmas lights. I LOVE having a billion lights up. During the 2002 Olympics we lit up the house and yard with a ton of red white and blue lights that we kept up thru the the end of February. With Screamapillar's help, there are currently 600 LED bulbs lighting up the front bushes. And man are they bright. I still have approximately 659 more strings of lights I would like to hang. There is a neighborhood lighting contest on the 16th. Thing Two begged his father to leave me in the dark (ha!) about this, but word got out. I just need to sort through all the lights, figure out which ones are busted beyond repair, then hang them before the temperatures drop below freezing again. Maybe this year I'll actually throw away the busted lights so I don't have to sort through them again next year...

Retake the family photo for the annual Christmas card. Eclair was having a meltdown during the original shoot, and looks like she had been crying. Because she was. Desperately needs a re-do. Everyone looks lame. And then I need to compose the Annual Epistle of Exaggeration and Outright Falsehoods. And then fail to mail it.

Remove the gelatinous pumpkins from the front porch. These are not Halloween ones, just the uncarved punkins from Thanksgiving that I keep meaning to remove to the garden so they may fulfill the measure of their creation and make more pumpkins for next year. One of them looks like a puddle now. Frankly, I've let this go so long that I am now afraid to move them.

Anybody wanna come over and help?

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100 Things...

Everyone is doing the whole "100 Things" on their blogs. Except me! Something must be wrong with me. I've had a blog for like 9 whole months now and I have not blogged "100 Things!"  So, it's supposed to be things about me, so maybe you'll learn something new! Here goes:

1. I like to cook, but I hate cleaning up after.

2. I like making crafts, although I seldom finish them.

3. When I do finish crafts, I rarely put everything away correctly until the last possible moment. Or later.

4. I always burn the last batch of cookies because I have ADD and I already moved on to something else.

5. I'm a binge eater - not like I eat tons and puke it up for some insane reason, but I find something I like, eat some everyday for like a month, then I can't stand to ever eat it again.

6. I love to sew costumes & fun things, but for some reason the patterns rarely get back into the envelope - next time I try to use the pattern, essential pieces are missing.....It's like I didn't want to clean up after or something...

7. I have a bunch of half written posts hanging about in my blogger dashboard. Good ideas for posts that never quite made the cut for publishing. Like they don't quite have what is needed to share them with anyone...

8. I recently plucked my left eyebrow but haven't quite gotten around to the right one yet.

9. I started writing up a cookbook of family recipes about 10 years ago, but the project kinda lost steam.

10. The last time I went to the mending basket to work on a project, I found Thing Two's size 3T footie pajamas that needed the zipper fixed. He's 18 now. Don't think he needs those anymore.

11. Are you starting to see a trend here?

12. I make a list of all the crap I need to do everyday, but less than half of it gets crossed off.

13. Every year about this time, I take a family photo and print 30 copies, then compose the "Annual Epistle of Exaggeration and Outright Falsehoods" for the extended family and friends. I never actually mail it.

14.Speaking of not mailing things, Thing Two's graduation announcements are still sitting on the piano. He graduated in May. It is now November.

15.

16.

17.






(Crap. I think my Farmville crops are dying.)


(You need a check for how much for what?)


(IT'S BURNING! You're standing right next to it! Why didn't you stir it?).

(The cat threw up where?)

(No, I don't know where your shoes are. Try looking wherever you took them off.)


(Where the heck is my cell phone? What do you mean "the dog has it?")


(What do you mean I missed your Parent-Teacher conference? The paper is where? Oh. Your backpack. How helpful.)


(She has how many pills left? I guess I'll just drive up to Primary Children's during rush hour traffic to get her refill.)


(What? You missed the bus AGAIN!?!? I told you I'M NOT DRIVING YOU!.......***sigh***  Go warm up the car.)












100. The only things I have ever completed from start to finish took nine months ended in the maternity ward of the hospital.

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What I did this week instead of blogging.

I kinda burned out there, blogging every day in October. Karen wanted to do it again this month because of the whole "Blogging Month" thing, but I said no. Unless she wants to post everyday instead of me.

I can't do it! I is bizzy! I has lots to do! I'm a responsible adult, after all.

So here's what I did this week instead of blogging:

VOTED -- please see previous post.

Edited 14 BILLION photos: family portraits mostly, and also Lovely Whit's engagement photos.

That Aussie fiancee of hers was all squinty in all the photos except the ones where we were under the bridge. Aren't they cute!! They're getting married in January. So, yeah. Pitchers. Lots of them. ALmost all edited now, only about 300 to go. Seriously. Out of over 1600 frames over the last four weeks. It's Taley's fault, she gave me a new 4gig card for the camera. Shot until it was full.

In other news, my two insane daughters decided to switch rooms this week. So they emptied all their crap into my formerly clean living room. All of it. They have too much crap. Way too much crap.

See? And there's still furniture in the rooms! Tons of it! They started last Sunday night, and a week later my living room still looks pretty much like that. GET TO WORK, LAZY GIRLS!!! Finish the job. If they think they are getting any new clothes for Christmas, they are sadly mistaken. I now know how much they already have. They don't need ANYTHING.

Also, I spent a lot of time cleaning up from Halloween. Taking the paper down from the windows, recalling all the borrowed costumes, and cleaning up the crafting mess I left behind me on the dining room table. That's where I discovered this:

Which of these things is not like the others? Which of these things just doesn't belong? I tell ya' what -- tha's what happens when you buy da google eyes at the dollar store. There was a billion in there, so I shouldn't complain.

The high point of my week was when I was SOOOO tired and SOOOO not paying attention in the shower.  I am sick, you see, and not at my best. Thing Two has shared some kind of plague with me, and I feel like I'm going to cough up a lung. My head hurts. My throat feels like I swallowed a bottle brush. I am achy and swollen, and hungry but not at the same time. It's pretty horrible, really, probably because I haven't been sick for a very long time. Probably more than a year. So I'm really being wimpy about it. And I hadn't put in my contacts yet. So in the shower I was presented with some choices when it came to hair care:

Hokay - so all are pink, and all are.....bottles of soapy stuff. So I probably shouldn't have chosen the one right in the middle. 'Cause I don't really have a problem in need of "HAIRBALL CONTROL."

WOULD SOMEONE LIKE TO EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THERE IS CAT SHAMPOO IN MY SHOWER? The cats get bathed like what? Once every six months? So maybe we could keep that under the sink instead. And then I won't have to worry about "Hairball Control" shampoo being my option for today.

Thank you for tuning in.
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You BUM!

***HALLOWEEN POST EVERY DAY IN OCTOBER -- DAY FIVE***

I think that boy costumes are so much harder than girl costumes. Girls plan ahead. They may change the plan 7000 times before Halloween, but at least they have a plan. My boys, they wait until the last minute (even though I pester them mercilessly trying to avoid the inevitable panic on October 28) without exception. See, they don't really care. Just as long as they don't have to dress like Prince Charming, they're fine with just about anything.

So here is an almost-last-minute costume on Thing Two. He's a bum. A lovely Hobo. Wig from the thrift store, hat from my Incredible Box o' Hats, thrift store jacket that has been "distressed" by the boy. The beard came from the grocery store Halloween aisle. Don't forget the wooden spoon. Why? I have no idea. But it seemed like a good idea at the time...

Speaking of bums, I have a story for you. See this adorable angelic face? That's Luke Skywalker at age 2.

I discovered that he is a bum. Remember, he goes to the high school? He's in that program that allows uber-smart 7th graders to hang out there instead of the Jr. High. So, he's the smallest, skinniest, cutest and most pitiful thing to walk the halls since the dawn of time, even all the other 7th graders are much bigger than he is.

 Screamapillar tattled on him the other day.

"Mom, will you make him stop embarrassing me at school?"

"What's he doing that embarrasses you? He's just a little kid. You're probably making a big deal out of nothing."


"Mom, he stands by the vending machines and begs for money. Puts on this pitiful face and asks people for quarters. Then he just eats out of the machines all day instead of eating his lunch."


"You're kidding. PLEASE tell me you're kidding."


"No, Mom, I'm serious. It is SO embarrassing. You have to make him stop."


And this isn't the first time. It all started at Halloween when he was 2. Ring the bell = free candy. He went ringing doorbells and asking for candy for weeks afterward. And he was so cute, PEOPLE GAVE IT TO HIM. One neighbor thought he was so adorable she would keep a big jar of red vines and give him one every day for at least a year. I had a good friend that worked in the photo lab where I used to develop film (remember film?) who would give him a quarter every time we came in so he could use the vending machine to get a treat. What did he learn from all this?


CUTE & ADORABLE = FREE STUFF


But how long can it last? He's starting to grow. His shoulders are getting wider, even if he's not getting much taller very fast. Soon he will be gawky and awkward and a lot less cute. And the days of free handouts will be over. Nothing lasts forever. Especially cuteness.
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Multi Tasking

Multi-tasking. Can't decide whether or not I think it's a good thing.

There are two differing opinions out there:

GET MORE DONE

or

SCREW-UP MORE THAN ONE THING AT A TIME.

I think both are true. I like to listen to the tv while doing other worthwhile things, like playing Farmville. I feel like I accomplish more this way. I can plant virtual rhubarb and get the weather report at the same time. This works for me.

But in the kitchen, it is often disastrous. Just ask my family. I always burn the last batch of cookies, because my ADD brain has moved on to the next task without completing the first.

So sad, burned cookies.

If only there were another way, like a clone slave I could make do the second job for me, who I could keep locked in a closet once the cookies were done. And she could clean the house too.

Never mind, it wouldn't work. She'd have to be a clone of someone else, someone not a control freak like me. Because a clone of me would just mess it up more because she would try to multi-task also.

Can you imagine the disaster that would be?

So, I guess if I had to decide and I was being honest, I'd have to say multi-tasking is bad. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop doing it.

Would you like a burnt cookie?
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Adventures in the Laundry Room

How long can a family of seven survive without a dryer?

Seven weeks, so far.

It started with this strange buzzing sound. Which progressed to no heat. And seven hours to air dry clothing. No thanks, I don't really want that utility bill. I know about these things, I work for the local power company. My wonderful dad came over to look at it. He glared at it and it started to work again. Then quit as soon as he left. He came back four weeks later and declared it dead: the part cost more than a new dryer. Lamesauce.

In case you're wondering? It was parts 11-20 that failed. Curse you, 11-20!


Alternatives?

Well, line drying, of course. So handy-me puts up a clothes line in the backyard. Back & forth from deck to fence three times. About 60 feet of drying space. That should do the trick.

Not.

First of all, one load of towels takes two of the three lines, and won't be dry in time for the next load to be hung. So, add hanging wet towels from the deck railing. Hanging things on hangers to dry from the handy closet bar in the laundry room, and in every door frame of the house. Some things have to lay flat to dry, or they risk becoming so misshapen that they more closely resemble somthing Vishnu could wear. They're on the couches in the living room. More clothes hanging on the stair banister in the living room. More clothes drying flat on the downstairs couch in Luke Skywalker's room, and the upstairs couches in the family room.

Frankly it was starting to look like Kohl's blew up or something. Or more like DI, looking at our clothing. And the humidity made me think I was revisiting my childhood encounter with Ginger.

This plan did not work. Things happened to the hanging laundry. Rain. Wind. Bird poop. Ever dried off after a hot relaxing shower with a towel washed in hard water and hung out to dry too long? I guess towels that burlap-esque and crispy are good for exfoliating, right? Hand me that blow dryer instead, would you?

Then I made a discovery. An amazing wonderful discovery. Out of desperation, I hauled five baskets of wet laundry to the nearest laundromat. Spread them all out across a wall of dryers, and started dropping quarters in. Only to find (after dropping in two dollars worth of quarters) that this laundromat offers FREE DRYING. You heard it, sisters, free drying. The catch? Between the hours of 5am and 3pm Monday thru Thursday.

It could be worse, you know.

At least I didn't end up as part of someones PSA on dryer safety, like the poor sap who owned the dryer above.

So until further notice, you know where to find me. Monday thru Thursday at 5am at least.
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The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

You've seen the commercial. The dad dancing through the aisles of the office supply store, rejoicing that his kids are going back to school?

That would be me right now.

Two weeks from tomorrow, two of the three remaining public school age children will return to school. The third starts the next day, because she's a big shot high school sophmore.

Big shot high school high school sophmore is in for a treat. Luke Skywalker will be going to high school with her. Yep. You heard it right. Screampillar's 12 year-old brother gets to go to high school.

Middle School sucks. It's a fact of life. There is somthing about middle school that brings out the worst in some kids: they're rude, inconsiderate, crass, mean, disrespectful, and they smell. Sorry, just the facts here. My kids did stupid stuff in middle school, stuff that made me say "What in the world were you THINKING?" and the reality is  they weren't thinking. Most of them don't. They're too busy growing and a prodigious rate and establishing pecking order.

Pecking order usually works out like this: top of the heap are the beautiful people - the attractive non-smelly kids who look like they have it all together and don't dress like outcasts from Gilligan's Island -- athletic/cheerleader types. Next is the largest group: normal kids who don't stand out all that much, but aren't total rejects. The normal kids are followed by the outcasts: band geeks, drama kids, and dead last, the nerds (or smart kids).

Funny thing is, this largest group, the normal kids? They're the ones establshing the pecking order. They decide who the golden children are. They mock the band geeks and drama kids. They beat up the nerds. And every one of them wants to be one of the beautiful people.

My son is a nerd. He is smart. Nobody gets his jokes. He is very short. And shy. He doesn't care what clothes he wears, and often looks like an outcast from Gilligan's Island.  He likes his hair short, because that way no one bothers him about styling it. The most important part of his wardrobe is his backpack -- because it is required to carry 345 books that have nothing to do with his school assignments. He would get pounded into paste in middle school.

So I am grateful that he's going to high school.  There's a new program for scary-smart geeky kids like him, where he will find peers - true peers! Geeks like him.

And his big sister will probably throw him in a trash can before the first week is over.

Something I am very annoyed by.

Keeping it real. A phrase we hear more often these days.

Here's my definition: Being truthful, not deceptive about your life.

The example I present: Fake Christmas letters. You know the ones. "Here's an update on our wonderful family! Our six-year old has been accepted to graduate school! Our oldest daughter has completed her second doctorate at Yale, and will be old enough to go to Girl's Camp this year! The baby is potty trained at 6 months, and has mastered Underwater Basket Weaving! I'm being considered for an Emmy for my self-produced You-Tube video on homemade baby food! Hubby is having trouble juggling his many commitments and had to turn down that promotion to company president as it would not leave him enough time for his favorite hobby -- being on this year's PGA tour. Tragedy struck us this year when our third vacation home (the one in Maui, not Vail or Barbados) was exposed to potential calamity -- the neighbors had termites!"

Yeah. Right.(and eww, Stepford family)


I'd much rather hear: "We had a lot of legitimate challenges this year. I gained another ten pounds because I can't handle the the stress of my kids and part-time job. My house is a big mess and really could use a paint job. My kids are trying hard in school, but a couple are having a difficult time of it. There never seems to be enough cash to handle what's going on, but we are tightening our belts and pushing along. Hubby is working hard on trying to get a promotion and raise, but with the present economy, all we can do is keep praying. We are happy despite our problems and hope the challenges your family is facing are teaching you as much about service and sacrifice as ours are."

Much better.

You know, I really wouldn't want to be that first family. Doesn't sound like there's a lot of learnin' and growin' going on there. I did receive a few Christmas letters from the second family, and I love them all the more for it. First family, I'm not sending you a card this year, and I'd prefer not to get one from you next year. Unless I really need a laugh, because honestly, nobody has it that good, and if they do, they sent the letter to me in error. I have no idea who you people are, and frankly, I don't have time for you.

What set me off of this rant? It all comes back to "keeping it real." Sometimes real is good. The "real" of honesty and integrity.
Sometimes real is REALLY BAD.
The "real" of people who provide TMI. You know who they are.

They are this unnamed celebrity who featured this on her show yesterday. Before you click on either link, know that you're in for a treat. "Keeping it real." The first one shows this cosmetic-worshiper out in public without makeup (gasp!). You should know (as I unfortunately do because I have an almost 16 daughter who for some unknown reason thinks this show is a good one to watch) if you have ever watched or been forced to listen to her program, that every woman is beautiful but only if she is in full makeup and dressed quite posh. This is the subject of 90% of her shows. What a valuable lesson for our teenage girls! Worse would be teaching them that they should aspire to be anything like this incredible shallow individual.  The second link is from yesterday's show where this unnamed celebrity thought it would be a good idea to show an actual colonic performed live on television. Seriously. That's not "keeping it real" that is "epic bad taste."

Another thing I love about that show is how she's always teaching us the amazing bits of wisdom that she alone has discovered and has condescended to share with us. Like yesterday again.

Don't put your purse on the floor of the public bathroom, it might get yuk on it.

Wow. Don't know how I survived 44 years without that nugget of wisdom. All these years I have been just using that little hook on the back of the door that some misguided person hung there for no apparent reason.

Thanks so much, Super Model. Without your "keeping it real" for me, I don't know where I would be.
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Day-after-Sunday Confessions.

Three things nobody really needs to know or care about:

A. There are still Christmas decorations in my living room. Proudly displayed with dust accumulated since they were put there in early December. I really see no point in putting them away, since we'd be getting them out again in a matter of months anyway.

2. I cut my own hair this weekend. It was bothering me and I don't have time for a haircut.

C. I woke up at 4am and watched "Justice League" with my son, who is also an insomniac. We were too tired to even mock this incredibly stupid movie. I think we were both hoping it would put us to sleep. It didn't.
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Top Ten things I have run over with my car

10
Late at night, driving through northern Arizona, we were pointing out wildlife. We saw fox, deer and racoons. Then Hubby yelled "Look kids! A rabbit!" right as we ran over one.

9
Pulled in to Moab during a very hot summer. Then a terrible racket came from under the car. Pulled over in a panic. Discovered that the "tar" they paint on the road cracks had stuck to all four tires, and was slapping against the wheel wells with every rotation.

8
The playpen. I had leaned it against the trunk before putting babes into car seats. I then forgot to put it in the trunk and backed over it instead.

7
During the "Epic Road Trip Vacation of '08" we ran over 9 states lines in 9 days.

6
Returning from a visit to a friend in Visalia on state road 155 thru Wofford Heights to the cabin in Kernville (never make my mistake and take this road. Never.). Late at night. Driving my dad's 280 ZX (which means I'm nearly lying down to drive and can barely reach the clutch). For some unknown reason there are literally HUNDREDS of mice crossing the road for a stretch about 7 miles long. I estimate I killed more than half of them.

5
My own timing belt. Don't ask. I'm still recovering.

4
My own shoes. I was at the beach, okay? Took them off to get the sand off my feet before driving, right? Just forgot to put them back on again.

3
On the way to Yellowstone I drove through a swarm of locust. They were everywhere. As their green guts plastered my windshield, Hubby leans forward with a tortilla chip and exclaims: "Guacamole!"

2
Those ingenious industrious neighbor kids! You know, the same ones who lit the gas can on fire and made a crater in the street? They built a bike ramp. With enough nails to construct a four bedroom home. They left this ramp at the end of my driveway. And I backed over it. And got a flat tire. Thank you, neighbor kids.

1
On the "Epic Road Trip of '08" we went to Nauvoo. As we were leaving to come back home, we had to cross the Mississippi (AGAIN - 8th time?). As I am approaching the bridge, I see a really big turtle. With all my vast experience running over beings who apparently have no better life's goal than to become roadkill, I think to myself, "It's going that way, so I had better swerve this way." Too late does it really register that "IT'S A TURTLE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, IT AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE BEFORE YOU'RE GOING TO RUN OVER IT, YOU IDIOT!"
So, yeah. I'm a turtle murderer.
My swerve only ensured that I would run it over quite squarely. No chance of a miss.
It was gruesome. And my children will never forgive me.

Goodbye forever, followers.