1. I have invented a new move that could get Sanjaya voted off. It's called the Hack and Wheeze.
2. Daughter just told me her eyeball is about to pop out and she can't see or hear so good.
3. OTC meds, please start working.
4. Orlando must have nuclear level pollen that we folks up here just ain't used to.
I'm just sayin, y'all.
5. We've pretty much given up on the "Bless You" etiquette around here. After it's been said 50 times in the past hour, it starts to feel like your mama telling you how pretty you are over and over again while you have an outbreak of acne and the frizzies. Kind of loses its effect.
6. Right now I am watching the "Have You Seen This Snail" episode of Spongebob which, pathetically has become my favorite.
Happy Weekend to the Allergen Free.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Stop Building Your Six-Year-Old's Vocabulary
When we returned home from our vacation I had a nice surprise waiting on our doorstep- a package of goodies from my mother-in-law. It was filled with some very pretty pillows, some cute note cards, odds and ends of newspaper articles and recipes and my new, very serious, literary interest-
Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank And Other Words of Delicate Southern Wisdom by Celia Rivenbark.
My mother-in-law isn't trying to correct my parenting. She thought I would enjoy the irreverent southern humor of Rivenbark. (There are a few "words" scattered throughout. It's a shame, too. It could have been equally funny without them.)
The book is pink with a little girl on the cover blow drying her hair into oblivion. So it stands to reason that my own little 6 year old would ask me, "Mommy, what's a skank?"
To which I reply,"Someone who dresses trashy."
"What's trashy? Tacky?"
"No. Someone who isn't modest."
"Oh."
"And skank isn't really a word you should be using."
Maybe the next book by Rivenbark will be "Stop Reading Books With Vocabulary On the Cover That Could Make Your Six-Year-Old Sound Like A Skank" or something like that.
Thanks, to my mother-in-law, in all seriousness, if that is possible at this point. It is a funny read- one that I will be tucking in the bedside table. (BTW- she did tell me there were a few words here and there inside the cover that my daughter may not need to see, but I didn't even think that she would be so quick to read the cover. Shows how smart I am.)
And Nanc- guess what I will be passing on to you? I'll send it in a brown, unmarked envelope.
:>)
Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank And Other Words of Delicate Southern Wisdom by Celia Rivenbark.
My mother-in-law isn't trying to correct my parenting. She thought I would enjoy the irreverent southern humor of Rivenbark. (There are a few "words" scattered throughout. It's a shame, too. It could have been equally funny without them.)
The book is pink with a little girl on the cover blow drying her hair into oblivion. So it stands to reason that my own little 6 year old would ask me, "Mommy, what's a skank?"
To which I reply,"Someone who dresses trashy."
"What's trashy? Tacky?"
"No. Someone who isn't modest."
"Oh."
"And skank isn't really a word you should be using."
Maybe the next book by Rivenbark will be "Stop Reading Books With Vocabulary On the Cover That Could Make Your Six-Year-Old Sound Like A Skank" or something like that.
Thanks, to my mother-in-law, in all seriousness, if that is possible at this point. It is a funny read- one that I will be tucking in the bedside table. (BTW- she did tell me there were a few words here and there inside the cover that my daughter may not need to see, but I didn't even think that she would be so quick to read the cover. Shows how smart I am.)
And Nanc- guess what I will be passing on to you? I'll send it in a brown, unmarked envelope.
:>)
Thursday, March 29, 2007
I need a vacation from vacation.
I'm pretty sure that whenever Hemingway had writer's block, he went to Orlando.
Sea World. Disney. Universal. Tacky. Tourists. Galore.
We just returned from Sea World and the longest car ride evah. Something about long car rides forces the vehicle to shrink as mileage increases. You leave the house in an SUV and arrive at your destination in a Ford Echo. And, my-oh-my, what snacks and fruit cups can do when you are trying to entertain a child in the back seat.
Not to mention movies, movies and more movies.
How did we ever go on vacation in the 70's? I don't remember watching Spongebob 20 times or drinking 100 Capri-Suns. All I can remember is asking my parents "How many more towns?" and sleeping, completely supine and without any car restraint whatsoever, in the back seat of a Chevrolet Caprice with light blue, vinyl seats, while listening to "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" on the radio.
I can remember that my mom always said how she hated that song (with the devil and all) but listened to it anyway. And, I just loved, loved, loved it because it was all about Georgia and even then I knew Charlie Daniels could rock.
"The Chicken in the Bread Pan Peckin' Out Dough,
Granny Does Your Dog Bite, No Child, No! "
Profound.
So, anyhoo. We spent a few days at Sea World and made a day trip to Silver Springs (a post of its own).
Can I just say that my daughter has fallen in love with the stingray? If we could have bought a discounted ticket, we could have just spent the entire two days at the Stingray Lagoon because you can not only view the stingrays, you can pet them.
Yes, slime and all. And I should know. I touched a few of them myself. I have to say it was kind of cool to actually touch one. (There was also a sink nearby for some serious handwashing.)
We did the usual Shamu and Dolphin shows and the cute Pets Ahoy show with rescued dogs, cats, ducks, a pig, a rat, and a skunk. It was great.
Near the end of our trip, my allergies flared up and now I have officially lost my voice. My daughter started having the sniffles too, and today she has a fever. Thankfully, we are home.
The fish survived our absence after the purchase of a highly technical Betta fish tank filtration system and feeding device. (It would have been a lot cheaper to replace a dead fish, but a Mama does what a Mama has to do.)
The cat didn't cause any injury to the kennel workers. She did hiss the first few days, but they say she gave up the fight and started being nice.
And hubs? He is recovering from all of the driving.
It was fun to get away, but I'm glad to be back. :>)
Sea World. Disney. Universal. Tacky. Tourists. Galore.
We just returned from Sea World and the longest car ride evah. Something about long car rides forces the vehicle to shrink as mileage increases. You leave the house in an SUV and arrive at your destination in a Ford Echo. And, my-oh-my, what snacks and fruit cups can do when you are trying to entertain a child in the back seat.
Not to mention movies, movies and more movies.
How did we ever go on vacation in the 70's? I don't remember watching Spongebob 20 times or drinking 100 Capri-Suns. All I can remember is asking my parents "How many more towns?" and sleeping, completely supine and without any car restraint whatsoever, in the back seat of a Chevrolet Caprice with light blue, vinyl seats, while listening to "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" on the radio.
I can remember that my mom always said how she hated that song (with the devil and all) but listened to it anyway. And, I just loved, loved, loved it because it was all about Georgia and even then I knew Charlie Daniels could rock.
"The Chicken in the Bread Pan Peckin' Out Dough,
Granny Does Your Dog Bite, No Child, No! "
Profound.
So, anyhoo. We spent a few days at Sea World and made a day trip to Silver Springs (a post of its own).
Can I just say that my daughter has fallen in love with the stingray? If we could have bought a discounted ticket, we could have just spent the entire two days at the Stingray Lagoon because you can not only view the stingrays, you can pet them.
Yes, slime and all. And I should know. I touched a few of them myself. I have to say it was kind of cool to actually touch one. (There was also a sink nearby for some serious handwashing.)
We did the usual Shamu and Dolphin shows and the cute Pets Ahoy show with rescued dogs, cats, ducks, a pig, a rat, and a skunk. It was great.
Near the end of our trip, my allergies flared up and now I have officially lost my voice. My daughter started having the sniffles too, and today she has a fever. Thankfully, we are home.
The fish survived our absence after the purchase of a highly technical Betta fish tank filtration system and feeding device. (It would have been a lot cheaper to replace a dead fish, but a Mama does what a Mama has to do.)
The cat didn't cause any injury to the kennel workers. She did hiss the first few days, but they say she gave up the fight and started being nice.
And hubs? He is recovering from all of the driving.
It was fun to get away, but I'm glad to be back. :>)
Saturday, March 24, 2007
I'll be back...
Signing off for a little R & R with the family.
Enjoy these wonderful days of Spring!
:>)
Enjoy these wonderful days of Spring!
:>)
Friday, March 23, 2007
Adventures in House Hunting
I've joined the organization known as People for the Ethical Treatment of Ugly Houses, also known as PETUH.
We are house hunting. Can I just say that I love, love, love my realtor? No offense to any realtors reading this, but I have not always had the best experience with real estate agents. At times, I've felt like I've been in the middle of a used car lot with a middle-aged man with a middle-aged spread to match, learning about the benefits of anti-lock breaks and Sure Coat paint,promises of NASA- level gas mileage, and a new car smell that lasts forever.
And shopping is supposed to be fun.
But this realtor? Love her. We are close in age, both have little girls we adore and share a love for laughter. And laughing, we did.
Our first house was in a quiet neighborhood where little Southern ladies named Dorothy and Margaret walk their cute little dogs along the sidewalks, enjoying the shade of the oak canopies. I'll bet if you walk in one of these homes, you would be welcomed by the smell of a pot roast in the oven and potpurri on the coffee table.
Just lovely.
The house we viewed had been on the market for a while and was a "fixer upper." In a nice price range for the neighborhood, it was worth seeing. When we walked in, we were impressed by the older, unique architectural features and nice hardwood floors. The kitchens and bathrooms could use some updating, but so far, not too much work.
We ventured down to the lower level and I immediately smelled it.
"Ooo, I smell mildew," I said.
"Me, too," she said.
We walked on and saw the real reasons this house was a "fixer upper"- water damage. Then, my realtor turned to me with a look of anguish on her face.
"I smell mold. I feel it in my chest," she said.
"Let's get out of here!" I said, fearing that she was about to have an asthma attack.
We returned to the truck and breathed in some good, clean, toxin free air. She assured me that she was not going to require an inhaler or an epi- stick, and we continued on our search.
The next houses were very charming. All were a little older, but in wonderful neighborhoods. There were some pleasant surprises like a granite countertop in one bathroom, a gorgeous patio with a view and one home on a quaint little pond.
There were a few exceptions. Like the bathroom in top to bottom 1970's brown. I could picture Marsha brushing her hair at the sink... "98, 99, 100! Jan! Where are my Go Go boots?! "
Then there was the very, plush, 1/2 inch of nap away from shag bedroom carpet that I wanted to reach down and pet. "Good, dog."
While attempting to enter one home, we were nearly attacked by a bird. It swooped down from its perch on the porch in a fighter pilot maneuver. For a moment, I thought the realtor actually crouched down behind me. The house was great, but the bird? It was waiting for us on the back step as we tried to exit the backdoor. Oh, yes M'am it did. OK. Maybe it was another bird, but does that make it any less creepy?
We left the Tippi Hedren house and headed off to the very last house of the day.
And, honey, we saved the best for last.
The neighborhood? Perfect.
The house? Not so much. Let's just say that the realtor looked frightened when we drove up in the driveway.
She turned to me and said, "I think this is the house I showed months ago. If it is, you don't want it. Let's check it out and see."
Oh, we checked it out- after we stood to the sides of the door, knocked and said,"PETUH! Come out with your hands up!"
It was that bad. My realtor opened the door, took one peek, and closed it. No kidding. It may have been the reflection from the algae in the fish tank inside, but I am pretty sure she turned green.
I had no idea that Real Estate involved HazMat training.
And, in case you're wondering, we did see a few nice homes and one particular home that was absolutely beautiful. But those kinds of houses don't make for good blog material.
I'll keep you posted on our quest. Who knows? Maybe we'll see a house that has a Rear Window with a view.
Bada Bing! (couldn't resist)
;>)
We are house hunting. Can I just say that I love, love, love my realtor? No offense to any realtors reading this, but I have not always had the best experience with real estate agents. At times, I've felt like I've been in the middle of a used car lot with a middle-aged man with a middle-aged spread to match, learning about the benefits of anti-lock breaks and Sure Coat paint,promises of NASA- level gas mileage, and a new car smell that lasts forever.
And shopping is supposed to be fun.
But this realtor? Love her. We are close in age, both have little girls we adore and share a love for laughter. And laughing, we did.
Our first house was in a quiet neighborhood where little Southern ladies named Dorothy and Margaret walk their cute little dogs along the sidewalks, enjoying the shade of the oak canopies. I'll bet if you walk in one of these homes, you would be welcomed by the smell of a pot roast in the oven and potpurri on the coffee table.
Just lovely.
The house we viewed had been on the market for a while and was a "fixer upper." In a nice price range for the neighborhood, it was worth seeing. When we walked in, we were impressed by the older, unique architectural features and nice hardwood floors. The kitchens and bathrooms could use some updating, but so far, not too much work.
We ventured down to the lower level and I immediately smelled it.
"Ooo, I smell mildew," I said.
"Me, too," she said.
We walked on and saw the real reasons this house was a "fixer upper"- water damage. Then, my realtor turned to me with a look of anguish on her face.
"I smell mold. I feel it in my chest," she said.
"Let's get out of here!" I said, fearing that she was about to have an asthma attack.
We returned to the truck and breathed in some good, clean, toxin free air. She assured me that she was not going to require an inhaler or an epi- stick, and we continued on our search.
The next houses were very charming. All were a little older, but in wonderful neighborhoods. There were some pleasant surprises like a granite countertop in one bathroom, a gorgeous patio with a view and one home on a quaint little pond.
There were a few exceptions. Like the bathroom in top to bottom 1970's brown. I could picture Marsha brushing her hair at the sink... "98, 99, 100! Jan! Where are my Go Go boots?! "
Then there was the very, plush, 1/2 inch of nap away from shag bedroom carpet that I wanted to reach down and pet. "Good, dog."
While attempting to enter one home, we were nearly attacked by a bird. It swooped down from its perch on the porch in a fighter pilot maneuver. For a moment, I thought the realtor actually crouched down behind me. The house was great, but the bird? It was waiting for us on the back step as we tried to exit the backdoor. Oh, yes M'am it did. OK. Maybe it was another bird, but does that make it any less creepy?
We left the Tippi Hedren house and headed off to the very last house of the day.
And, honey, we saved the best for last.
The neighborhood? Perfect.
The house? Not so much. Let's just say that the realtor looked frightened when we drove up in the driveway.
She turned to me and said, "I think this is the house I showed months ago. If it is, you don't want it. Let's check it out and see."
Oh, we checked it out- after we stood to the sides of the door, knocked and said,"PETUH! Come out with your hands up!"
It was that bad. My realtor opened the door, took one peek, and closed it. No kidding. It may have been the reflection from the algae in the fish tank inside, but I am pretty sure she turned green.
I had no idea that Real Estate involved HazMat training.
And, in case you're wondering, we did see a few nice homes and one particular home that was absolutely beautiful. But those kinds of houses don't make for good blog material.
I'll keep you posted on our quest. Who knows? Maybe we'll see a house that has a Rear Window with a view.
Bada Bing! (couldn't resist)
;>)
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
What to do when you stub your pinky toe.
Have you ever had a migraine? Or better yet- have you ever given birth? If you have experienced excruciating pain of any kind, you know that pain is relative.
Pain is relative to the person who is experiencing the pain. I didn't say your relatives are a pain. Maybe they are, but let's get back to the point and I do have one although it will take me several run-on sentences, a few metaphors and a dash of sarcasm to get to it.
I have a fairly high threshold for pain. It takes a lot of pain medicine to eliminate my pain and it really takes a lot of pain for me to even request pain medication. I'm tough like that.
But don't make me change my routine. It's like I'm on this treadmill, the little rat in the wheel, just huffing and puffing and trying to reach the proverbial cheese; I'm doing the best I can. Don't stop the wheel. I just might trip over my own little rat toes and fall flat on my pudgy rat belly.
I don't handle stress very well. What is stressful for me may not be stressful for you. What is stress for someone else, may not be stress for me. Stress, just like pain, is relative. I didn't say your relatives are stressful. Maybe they are...
Imagine a steel cable and a long piece of fishing line. If you hang a 20 pound weight on a steel cable, the cable is strong enough to handle the weight. Hang that same weight on the fishing line and chances are, the fishing line will snap. (I'm not talking about the deep sea big game fishing line that could pull in a prize winning swordfish. I'm talking about the average, my Daddy just retired and he's getting a boat so he can fish for catfish and brim fishing line.)
The weight is the same, but the tool holding the weight is very different. The 20 pound weight isn't stressful to the steel cable, but the poor brim fishing line just might need some Prozac.
So, why am I sharing this? Well, I haven't been fishing, but Mama, she needs some Prozac. We have been going through a lot of changes and decision making in our family and my little Brim Buster is just about ready to break.
But, I know what to do. Certainly, I always turn to God in prayer and listen to Him through His Word. I talk to my husband, family and my very dear friends. (Can I just say that those friends are worth more than their weight in Prozac?!)
And I do one more thing- I talk to my doctor. I am not making light of the situation.
OK. I am. My sarcasm is a pathetic coping mechanism. I tell people these things so that maybe someone reading this will seek help for herself. I realized years ago that I need medication. Some people are able to manage their lives with therapy alone, but I cannot. It's OK. It doesn't make me a weak person. In fact, it takes a lot of strength to admit you need any kind of outside help when life just gets to be too heavy.
What I really want to share with you is that when your little fishing line just can't hold the weight, get help. Talk to someone. Talk to your doctor. Talk to a therapist. Just don't try to pull in that big catch all by yourself.
If you know someone who seems to be under some sort of weight herself, be a friend. Don't try to understand why her "fishing line" can't pull in a minnow. Just know that it doesn't. She may or may not want advice. One thing for sure- She needs you to just "be there." Assure her that she doesn't have to carry the weight alone. Encourage her to get some help, whatever type of help is right for her.
No matter what weight you are trying to carry, just realize that we are all very different. We all need different methods of coping and we all need to recognize those differences in ourselves and in others. Be encouraged and know God loves you and He cares for you, whether your stress is a new job, a new baby, or a new hairdo.
It's all relative.
Sometimes we have a baby and we need to "breathe." Sometimes we have a headache and we need an aspirin. And, sometimes we may just stub our pinky toe and we need an epidural and the entire Pain Management Team.
Hey, doc! My epidural wore off...
Pain is relative to the person who is experiencing the pain. I didn't say your relatives are a pain. Maybe they are, but let's get back to the point and I do have one although it will take me several run-on sentences, a few metaphors and a dash of sarcasm to get to it.
I have a fairly high threshold for pain. It takes a lot of pain medicine to eliminate my pain and it really takes a lot of pain for me to even request pain medication. I'm tough like that.
But don't make me change my routine. It's like I'm on this treadmill, the little rat in the wheel, just huffing and puffing and trying to reach the proverbial cheese; I'm doing the best I can. Don't stop the wheel. I just might trip over my own little rat toes and fall flat on my pudgy rat belly.
I don't handle stress very well. What is stressful for me may not be stressful for you. What is stress for someone else, may not be stress for me. Stress, just like pain, is relative. I didn't say your relatives are stressful. Maybe they are...
Imagine a steel cable and a long piece of fishing line. If you hang a 20 pound weight on a steel cable, the cable is strong enough to handle the weight. Hang that same weight on the fishing line and chances are, the fishing line will snap. (I'm not talking about the deep sea big game fishing line that could pull in a prize winning swordfish. I'm talking about the average, my Daddy just retired and he's getting a boat so he can fish for catfish and brim fishing line.)
The weight is the same, but the tool holding the weight is very different. The 20 pound weight isn't stressful to the steel cable, but the poor brim fishing line just might need some Prozac.
So, why am I sharing this? Well, I haven't been fishing, but Mama, she needs some Prozac. We have been going through a lot of changes and decision making in our family and my little Brim Buster is just about ready to break.
But, I know what to do. Certainly, I always turn to God in prayer and listen to Him through His Word. I talk to my husband, family and my very dear friends. (Can I just say that those friends are worth more than their weight in Prozac?!)
And I do one more thing- I talk to my doctor. I am not making light of the situation.
OK. I am. My sarcasm is a pathetic coping mechanism. I tell people these things so that maybe someone reading this will seek help for herself. I realized years ago that I need medication. Some people are able to manage their lives with therapy alone, but I cannot. It's OK. It doesn't make me a weak person. In fact, it takes a lot of strength to admit you need any kind of outside help when life just gets to be too heavy.
What I really want to share with you is that when your little fishing line just can't hold the weight, get help. Talk to someone. Talk to your doctor. Talk to a therapist. Just don't try to pull in that big catch all by yourself.
If you know someone who seems to be under some sort of weight herself, be a friend. Don't try to understand why her "fishing line" can't pull in a minnow. Just know that it doesn't. She may or may not want advice. One thing for sure- She needs you to just "be there." Assure her that she doesn't have to carry the weight alone. Encourage her to get some help, whatever type of help is right for her.
No matter what weight you are trying to carry, just realize that we are all very different. We all need different methods of coping and we all need to recognize those differences in ourselves and in others. Be encouraged and know God loves you and He cares for you, whether your stress is a new job, a new baby, or a new hairdo.
It's all relative.
Sometimes we have a baby and we need to "breathe." Sometimes we have a headache and we need an aspirin. And, sometimes we may just stub our pinky toe and we need an epidural and the entire Pain Management Team.
Hey, doc! My epidural wore off...
Linda does it again.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Quiz Answers
1. Hunt For Red October- Way to go, Melissa!
2. Seinfeld- George pretends to be a marine biologist. Lynne- You go, girl! Any Seinfeld nut is a friend of mine. :>)
3. Forrest Gump
4. Fried Green Tomatoes- Evelyn says this to her husband. She prepared him a "low cholesterol meal" for Valentine's Day and he asked her if she was trying to kill him.
5. King of The Hill- Peggy Hill to Bobby. (There are so many classic Bobby Hill lines. Hard to pick just one!)
6. Steel Magnolias
7. Friends- Ross to Rachel. If it hadn't been a comedy, they could have named it Knots Landing.
8. Toy Story- Woody
I gotta go....there's a snake in my boots...
2. Seinfeld- George pretends to be a marine biologist. Lynne- You go, girl! Any Seinfeld nut is a friend of mine. :>)
3. Forrest Gump
4. Fried Green Tomatoes- Evelyn says this to her husband. She prepared him a "low cholesterol meal" for Valentine's Day and he asked her if she was trying to kill him.
5. King of The Hill- Peggy Hill to Bobby. (There are so many classic Bobby Hill lines. Hard to pick just one!)
6. Steel Magnolias
7. Friends- Ross to Rachel. If it hadn't been a comedy, they could have named it Knots Landing.
8. Toy Story- Woody
I gotta go....there's a snake in my boots...
Movie and TV Quotes Pop Quiz
Do you remember these?
1. "I will live in Montana. And I will marry a round American woman and raise rabbits, and she will cook them for me. And I will have a pickup truck... maybe even a "recreational vehicle." And drive from state to state. Do they let you do that?"
2. ""The sea was angry that day, my friends. Like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."
3. "The best thing about visiting the President is the food! Now, since it was all free, and I wasn't hungry but thirsty, I must've drank me fifteen Dr. Peppers."
4. "If I was gonna kill you, I'd use my hands."
5. "Mom, I'm fat."
" No, honey, you're not. You're husky. It says so on your jeans."
6. "Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair. "
7. "We were on a break!"
8. "Somebody's poisoned the waterhole!"
Answers tomorrow... Have Fun!
1. "I will live in Montana. And I will marry a round American woman and raise rabbits, and she will cook them for me. And I will have a pickup truck... maybe even a "recreational vehicle." And drive from state to state. Do they let you do that?"
2. ""The sea was angry that day, my friends. Like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."
3. "The best thing about visiting the President is the food! Now, since it was all free, and I wasn't hungry but thirsty, I must've drank me fifteen Dr. Peppers."
4. "If I was gonna kill you, I'd use my hands."
5. "Mom, I'm fat."
" No, honey, you're not. You're husky. It says so on your jeans."
6. "Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair. "
7. "We were on a break!"
8. "Somebody's poisoned the waterhole!"
Answers tomorrow... Have Fun!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Where in the world is Melanie Diego?
OK.
I'm still here. In case any of you had nothing better to do and were wondering why I have not pitifully attempted to amuse or inspire anyone with my Kindergarten level writing in a few days, let me explain. I've been busy with The Thing Called Life.
Blah Blah Blah
Like trying to decide whether we will stay in our rental, buy a home, what to buy, where to buy, what color bath towels to hang... OK not that. Much prayer and gnashing of teeth is happening at my house.
So, in an effort to prove that I am alive and kickin' I offer you this proof:
My Pitiful Attempt At A Post Which I Wrote In The Car, But Not Literally As I Do Not Multi-task While Driving Unless You Count Applying Lipstick And Listening To My Daughter's Philosophy On Life
The title itself could be a post because it is so long and boooorrrinngggg....
Here goes-
Proof That I Am A Product Of The 80's
1. I get excited when I hear Thriller on the radio. I spent one entire summer glued to MTV waiting for them to play the Thriller video again. When it came on, I called all of my friends and told them to,"Turn on the TV! Thriller is on for the 300Th time today!! Don't miss it! Oh My Ga- Do you see those dance moves? AHHH! He is going to break through the door!"
Ahhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Ahhhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.
And if you don't hear Vincent Price in your head right now you are probably too young... sigh...
Yes, people. I knew Michael before he became a freak.
2. I cannot style my hair without using hairspray. At least one whoosh over the top of my head.
3. When I can't find someone, I am tempted to say,"Bueller, Bueller."
4. I have tasted New Coke.
5. I have heard Eddie Murphy sing.
6. I understand that a Flock of Seagulls may or may not have anything to do with birds.
7. I know that Big Country had a song called Big Country on an album with Big Country written on it, but I don't remember where they were from. (somewhere you can ride four wheelers, apparently)
8. I always wanted to party like it was 1999, but I didn't know that I'd have to stock up on food and fear the end of the world... ahem.
9. I remember when Sarah Jessica Parker was a brunette.
Square Pegs, Square Pegs, Square Square.
10. We did not use acid as a drug. We washed our jeans in it. It made it much easier to rip them.
I didn't personally wash them in acid. I bought them already washed in acid, which means I paid (well, my mom paid) for someone to wash them in acid. That is so much more pathetic. I think if I had access to acid or other corrosive material, I probably would have done it myself. Scary.
11. Jellies are shoes, not condiments for toast.
12. I saw Sinbad and Rosie on Star Search.
13. I know what Paula Abdul and Arsenio Hall have in common.
14. I used to think that computers could "think" and talk to you.
15. I lived without the Internet.
OK. That last one? Nearly sent me into a panic attack. You mean we actually existed and managed to live a normal, balanced life without google? Who knew?
16. Then there's this display of fashion mistakes-
Happy Weekend, Y'all!
I'm still here. In case any of you had nothing better to do and were wondering why I have not pitifully attempted to amuse or inspire anyone with my Kindergarten level writing in a few days, let me explain. I've been busy with The Thing Called Life.
Blah Blah Blah
Like trying to decide whether we will stay in our rental, buy a home, what to buy, where to buy, what color bath towels to hang... OK not that. Much prayer and gnashing of teeth is happening at my house.
So, in an effort to prove that I am alive and kickin' I offer you this proof:
My Pitiful Attempt At A Post Which I Wrote In The Car, But Not Literally As I Do Not Multi-task While Driving Unless You Count Applying Lipstick And Listening To My Daughter's Philosophy On Life
The title itself could be a post because it is so long and boooorrrinngggg....
Here goes-
Proof That I Am A Product Of The 80's
1. I get excited when I hear Thriller on the radio. I spent one entire summer glued to MTV waiting for them to play the Thriller video again. When it came on, I called all of my friends and told them to,"Turn on the TV! Thriller is on for the 300Th time today!! Don't miss it! Oh My Ga- Do you see those dance moves? AHHH! He is going to break through the door!"
Ahhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Ahhhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.
And if you don't hear Vincent Price in your head right now you are probably too young... sigh...
Yes, people. I knew Michael before he became a freak.
2. I cannot style my hair without using hairspray. At least one whoosh over the top of my head.
3. When I can't find someone, I am tempted to say,"Bueller, Bueller."
4. I have tasted New Coke.
5. I have heard Eddie Murphy sing.
6. I understand that a Flock of Seagulls may or may not have anything to do with birds.
7. I know that Big Country had a song called Big Country on an album with Big Country written on it, but I don't remember where they were from. (somewhere you can ride four wheelers, apparently)
8. I always wanted to party like it was 1999, but I didn't know that I'd have to stock up on food and fear the end of the world... ahem.
9. I remember when Sarah Jessica Parker was a brunette.
Square Pegs, Square Pegs, Square Square.
10. We did not use acid as a drug. We washed our jeans in it. It made it much easier to rip them.
I didn't personally wash them in acid. I bought them already washed in acid, which means I paid (well, my mom paid) for someone to wash them in acid. That is so much more pathetic. I think if I had access to acid or other corrosive material, I probably would have done it myself. Scary.
11. Jellies are shoes, not condiments for toast.
12. I saw Sinbad and Rosie on Star Search.
13. I know what Paula Abdul and Arsenio Hall have in common.
14. I used to think that computers could "think" and talk to you.
15. I lived without the Internet.
OK. That last one? Nearly sent me into a panic attack. You mean we actually existed and managed to live a normal, balanced life without google? Who knew?
16. Then there's this display of fashion mistakes-
Happy Weekend, Y'all!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
More moments in the car
Daughter- "Mommy, sometimes I'm idealess."
Mommy- ""You're what?"
Daughter- "Idealess."
Mommy- "Oh. That's called writer's block."
Daughter- "And sometimes my brain works faster than my fingers can write and I say, 'Stop it! Slow down!!"
Mommy to herself- That hasn't happened to me in a while...
;>)
Mommy- ""You're what?"
Daughter- "Idealess."
Mommy- "Oh. That's called writer's block."
Daughter- "And sometimes my brain works faster than my fingers can write and I say, 'Stop it! Slow down!!"
Mommy to herself- That hasn't happened to me in a while...
;>)
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
His Eye Is On The Sparrow
Yesterday my daughter and I went to the park. It was just one of those days where you absolutely must go outside or you would burst. The weather was perfect and you could feel Spring on your skin.
While we were there, we enjoyed the birds and giggled a lot. Something about sunshine and songbirds makes you giggle.
It began to get dark and we started walking back to the car (a long trek at this park). As we made our way back we happened upon an area where some teenagers had enjoyed a picnic. And left their cans and garbage behind.
We still had a long way to walk and were without any type of bag. Still, my daughter insisted that we pick up every single can and scrap of plastic strewn about this area of the park. She was worried about the birds and the animals getting caught in some of the plastic or being harmed by the garbage left behind.
Our arms were full and may I say- I wound up with drips of Dr. Pepper, Mt. Dew, and beer (yuck) all down my t-shirt. We gathered an empty box of Girl Scout cookies, too. The Girl Scouts would have been disappointed.
Two cans were left. There was absolutely no way we could gather them in our already full arms. (I made sure my daughter did not carry any beer cans. I had all of the really disgusting trash.)
My daughter began to cry,"What about the birds? Mommy, can't we come back? Can't we walk to the trash can and come back and get these cans, too?"
"No, we can't, Sweetie. It is getting dark. We are the only ones here and it just isn't safe for a Mommy and her little girl to be out here alone," I said, my heart breaking at the sight of her tears.
She continued to cry as we walked back to our car, loaded down with someone else's trash.
I turned to her and said,"We just have to pray that God will send someone else to pick up those cans, too. He sent you here. He loves that you care about His Earth and the animals. He is smiling right now. He will take care of it."
My words seemed to comfort her and we kept walking, the sun quickly sliding down behind the horizon. As we walked along, we found an empty box someone had left behind. We put all of the trash we had gathered in the box and continued on, reaching the trash can and our car.
When we got in the car, after some serious Purell sanitizing, I shared with her how I have learned to trust God. When I am overwhelmed and think that I have to be the one to save the world, I have to remind myself that God has a whole army of Christians working for Him. Many times in my life, I have worked on a project or struggled to help someone and I've tried to do it all by myself. It is so frustrating to feel like you are working alone. When I have faith and give it all to God, I am so comforted knowing that He is in control and He will prevail.
"Just say a prayer and He will take care of it," I said.
"I already did, Mommy," she answered from the back seat.
We drove home and I suddenly realized that I need to literally practice what I preach. I have had so many things weighing heavy on my heart lately. I have allowed doubt to fill the space where faith should dwell. Right then, I said a silent prayer, asking God to "take care of it."
This morning I received an email letting me know that God had indeed "taken care of it."
My first thought was about the birds- the sparrows that He loves. He cares for them. Surely, He will care for me, His Child. I am reminded that I am worth more to Him than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6-7)
Thank you, God, for taking care of me and for providing all my needs. I just want to take this moment to praise You.
While we were there, we enjoyed the birds and giggled a lot. Something about sunshine and songbirds makes you giggle.
It began to get dark and we started walking back to the car (a long trek at this park). As we made our way back we happened upon an area where some teenagers had enjoyed a picnic. And left their cans and garbage behind.
We still had a long way to walk and were without any type of bag. Still, my daughter insisted that we pick up every single can and scrap of plastic strewn about this area of the park. She was worried about the birds and the animals getting caught in some of the plastic or being harmed by the garbage left behind.
Our arms were full and may I say- I wound up with drips of Dr. Pepper, Mt. Dew, and beer (yuck) all down my t-shirt. We gathered an empty box of Girl Scout cookies, too. The Girl Scouts would have been disappointed.
Two cans were left. There was absolutely no way we could gather them in our already full arms. (I made sure my daughter did not carry any beer cans. I had all of the really disgusting trash.)
My daughter began to cry,"What about the birds? Mommy, can't we come back? Can't we walk to the trash can and come back and get these cans, too?"
"No, we can't, Sweetie. It is getting dark. We are the only ones here and it just isn't safe for a Mommy and her little girl to be out here alone," I said, my heart breaking at the sight of her tears.
She continued to cry as we walked back to our car, loaded down with someone else's trash.
I turned to her and said,"We just have to pray that God will send someone else to pick up those cans, too. He sent you here. He loves that you care about His Earth and the animals. He is smiling right now. He will take care of it."
My words seemed to comfort her and we kept walking, the sun quickly sliding down behind the horizon. As we walked along, we found an empty box someone had left behind. We put all of the trash we had gathered in the box and continued on, reaching the trash can and our car.
When we got in the car, after some serious Purell sanitizing, I shared with her how I have learned to trust God. When I am overwhelmed and think that I have to be the one to save the world, I have to remind myself that God has a whole army of Christians working for Him. Many times in my life, I have worked on a project or struggled to help someone and I've tried to do it all by myself. It is so frustrating to feel like you are working alone. When I have faith and give it all to God, I am so comforted knowing that He is in control and He will prevail.
"Just say a prayer and He will take care of it," I said.
"I already did, Mommy," she answered from the back seat.
We drove home and I suddenly realized that I need to literally practice what I preach. I have had so many things weighing heavy on my heart lately. I have allowed doubt to fill the space where faith should dwell. Right then, I said a silent prayer, asking God to "take care of it."
This morning I received an email letting me know that God had indeed "taken care of it."
My first thought was about the birds- the sparrows that He loves. He cares for them. Surely, He will care for me, His Child. I am reminded that I am worth more to Him than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6-7)
Thank you, God, for taking care of me and for providing all my needs. I just want to take this moment to praise You.
Psalms 84
"How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
I long, yes, I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord.
"How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
I long, yes, I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord.
With my whole being, body and soul, I will shout joyfully to the living God.
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow builds her nest
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow builds her nest
and raises her young at a place near your altar,
O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, my King and my God!
What joy for those who can live in your house, always singing your praises.
What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord,
What joy for those who can live in your house, always singing your praises.
What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord,
who have set their minds
on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
When they walk through the Valley of Weeping,
on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
When they walk through the Valley of Weeping,
it will become a place of refreshing springs.
The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings.
They will continue to grow stronger,
They will continue to grow stronger,
and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.
O Lord God of Heaven’s Armies, hear my prayer.
Listen, O God of Jacob.
O God, look with favor upon the king, our shield!
O Lord God of Heaven’s Armies, hear my prayer.
Listen, O God of Jacob.
O God, look with favor upon the king, our shield!
Show favor to the one you have anointed.
A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else!
A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else!
I would rather be a gatekeeper in the house of my God
than live the good life in the homes of the wicked.
For the Lord God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory.
The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.
O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, what joy for those who trust in you."
For the Lord God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory.
The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.
O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, what joy for those who trust in you."
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Medicare, Marmaduke, and Miatas.
I think I may have discovered a phenomenon.I was out today running an errand and I saw an elderly lady walking her dog. The dog was a cute little pup, walking as fast as his little legs could carry him. This is when I realized something. The age of a person is reversely correlated to the size of their pet.
For example, when you are a kid you love puppies and all dogs, but what are the typical family dogs that Santa brings? Labs, Golden Retrievers, German Shepherds, and Rottweilers.
Yep. When you are a kid, your dog is big. Even our favorite cartoon dogs were big- Marmaduke and my personal favorite, Scoobie Doo. You can't get much bigger than a Great Dane!
So, there we are, growing up with this big dog. We throw the ball for him. We take him for walks. He pulls us over with the leash while lunging for a squirrel. Our dog is just one, big bundle of fun.
Then we leave home, get a job and our own apartment. They don't take big pets, so we get a medium sized dog like a beagle or a poodle, or a cute mutt from the pound.
Before we know it, we are retiring and moving off to Florida and our dog of choice is a Bichon Frise.
The opposite is true for the car we drive. As we age, the size of the car gets bigger. This has happened to me. My first car was a cute, sporty Toyota Paseo. I was so cool. Now I drive a Camry and our next vehicle will most likely be a mini-van.
What do old people drive? Cadillacs. Yes, the older you get, the larger your vehicle becomes. Why is this? Do we need the room? What are we hauling around besides our dentures and our depends?
I guess if I live to be 100, I'll be driving around in my RV with my tiny, tea cup Chihuahua in my lap, hanging his tiny tea cup tongue out the window.
Let the good times roll.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Extreme Sports in the Womb
They say that babies can experience a lot in the womb. They hear and feel much of what we hear and feel when we are pregnant. This may have a lot to do with the reason my daughter won't eat potatoes.
When I was in my first trimester I had a lot of nausea. I never threw up. I just wanted to. For about a month all I wanted was potato products from Sonic. One day I ate tater tots and fries for two separate meals. I use the word "meal" loosely. I went nuts with the spuds. Maybe it was the starch, or maybe the salt. I don't know, but it worked. I
After the urge to purge went away, I craved certain foods like Chinese, Mexican, anything spicy, turkey sandwiches and Cheetos (had to be at the same time), and Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters.
If it were possible, I would write a thank you note to the person who united the peanut with chocolate. This was pure genius. And to take roasted peanuts, pile them all on top of one another in a football-style tackle, then smother them in rich chocolate?
Sweet Mother of Pearl.
Most normal people would buy the bag of Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters and it would last them, oh, a few days or maybe a week. I was pregnant. It lasted me for the ride home.
Yes, M'am. I ate an entire day's worth of calories en route from Wal-mart to my house. Sometimes I would pace myself, saving a few for when I got home, so I could drink a tall glass of skim milk with them. I went with the skim to keep my girlish figure.
To this day my daughter loves Cheetos and Reese's peanut butter cups. She has just recently discovered the negative nutritional goodness of Girl Scout cookies- peanut butter patty.
If Homer Simpson is reading this post, I promise you that he is drooling right now and yelling for Marge to bring him a snack.
Just as the pregnancy potato products had an adverse effect on my daughter's taste for spuds, I fear that one day she will have some unusual aversions without knowing why.
Let me explain.
When I was about 7 months pregnant, we visited the Outer Banks. My husband wanted to see one of the lighthouses so we decided to take the "ferry" on over.
Now, what do you think of when I say "ferry?" You think of a normal barge type water craft, don't you? Oh, no. You are so very wrong. This particular ferry was a small, teeny, tiny, minuscule fishing boat. This boat was so small that if you actually did go fishing in it, you would have to leave the fish behind because there wouldn't be enough room for you and the fish to go home.
The weather was cold, damp, and windy and the water was rough. It was white capping like the foam on your cappuccino. The ride was a very long 15 minutes. The driver completely ignored the fact that my belly was the size of a nuclear reactive watermelon and decided to keep his tight schedule.
The faster he went, the more the boat bounced. Boom. Boom. Boom. My bottom kept bouncing up and down, over and over. I thought for sure I would go into labor. When we arrived on the island to see the lighthouse, I cried like a scared, mom-to-be. We asked the sweet, retired park volunteer if there was any other way back.
The lady brought me a chair, gave me some Coke, and said,"Shug, the only other way out of here is by helicopter. Do you need me to call one for you?"
Now I had to decide if I wanted to take the chance going back with Captain Pogo Stick or request that the state park personnel call a chopper in to save me from premature labor and a nervous breakdown.
I went with the boat ride. Only this time, the Captain was a little more understanding. He must have told his first mates back at the dock about this huge pregnant woman he almost sent into labor. My guess is they gave him a piece of advice- Give the woman a seat on the back of the canoe along with a huge cushion and slow down.
So we made it back safely. It ended up being a wasted trip anyway. My husband was disappointed that the lighthouse was closed and he couldn't actually go in it. He was grateful that I didn't have a baby right there on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
I managed not to have a nervous breakdown or severely injure Captain Pogo Stick.
My daughter was fine, but I have a feeling she will never, ever want to go bungee jumping.
When I was in my first trimester I had a lot of nausea. I never threw up. I just wanted to. For about a month all I wanted was potato products from Sonic. One day I ate tater tots and fries for two separate meals. I use the word "meal" loosely. I went nuts with the spuds. Maybe it was the starch, or maybe the salt. I don't know, but it worked. I
After the urge to purge went away, I craved certain foods like Chinese, Mexican, anything spicy, turkey sandwiches and Cheetos (had to be at the same time), and Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters.
If it were possible, I would write a thank you note to the person who united the peanut with chocolate. This was pure genius. And to take roasted peanuts, pile them all on top of one another in a football-style tackle, then smother them in rich chocolate?
Sweet Mother of Pearl.
Most normal people would buy the bag of Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters and it would last them, oh, a few days or maybe a week. I was pregnant. It lasted me for the ride home.
Yes, M'am. I ate an entire day's worth of calories en route from Wal-mart to my house. Sometimes I would pace myself, saving a few for when I got home, so I could drink a tall glass of skim milk with them. I went with the skim to keep my girlish figure.
To this day my daughter loves Cheetos and Reese's peanut butter cups. She has just recently discovered the negative nutritional goodness of Girl Scout cookies- peanut butter patty.
If Homer Simpson is reading this post, I promise you that he is drooling right now and yelling for Marge to bring him a snack.
Just as the pregnancy potato products had an adverse effect on my daughter's taste for spuds, I fear that one day she will have some unusual aversions without knowing why.
Let me explain.
When I was about 7 months pregnant, we visited the Outer Banks. My husband wanted to see one of the lighthouses so we decided to take the "ferry" on over.
Now, what do you think of when I say "ferry?" You think of a normal barge type water craft, don't you? Oh, no. You are so very wrong. This particular ferry was a small, teeny, tiny, minuscule fishing boat. This boat was so small that if you actually did go fishing in it, you would have to leave the fish behind because there wouldn't be enough room for you and the fish to go home.
The weather was cold, damp, and windy and the water was rough. It was white capping like the foam on your cappuccino. The ride was a very long 15 minutes. The driver completely ignored the fact that my belly was the size of a nuclear reactive watermelon and decided to keep his tight schedule.
The faster he went, the more the boat bounced. Boom. Boom. Boom. My bottom kept bouncing up and down, over and over. I thought for sure I would go into labor. When we arrived on the island to see the lighthouse, I cried like a scared, mom-to-be. We asked the sweet, retired park volunteer if there was any other way back.
The lady brought me a chair, gave me some Coke, and said,"Shug, the only other way out of here is by helicopter. Do you need me to call one for you?"
Now I had to decide if I wanted to take the chance going back with Captain Pogo Stick or request that the state park personnel call a chopper in to save me from premature labor and a nervous breakdown.
I went with the boat ride. Only this time, the Captain was a little more understanding. He must have told his first mates back at the dock about this huge pregnant woman he almost sent into labor. My guess is they gave him a piece of advice- Give the woman a seat on the back of the canoe along with a huge cushion and slow down.
So we made it back safely. It ended up being a wasted trip anyway. My husband was disappointed that the lighthouse was closed and he couldn't actually go in it. He was grateful that I didn't have a baby right there on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
I managed not to have a nervous breakdown or severely injure Captain Pogo Stick.
My daughter was fine, but I have a feeling she will never, ever want to go bungee jumping.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
I don't mean to brag...
Oh, yes I do!
Just when you think your week is really starting to stink (literally) with smelly fungi sprouting in the yard, Newman losing a package and did I mention that my sink stopped up last night...
Anyhoo.
Just when you're having a no good, rotten, terrible, bad day, you find out that this poem won First Place in the State Creative Writing Competition.
Oh, yes M'am. Mama has been burnin' up the cell phone with this one.
And the Internet. And the local papers... OK, not the papers.
And did I also mention that I carried this child for 9 months and birthed her after a gazillion hours of labor and an epidural that wore off?
I did?
OK. I have been known to repeat myself.
It's my blawg and I'll brag if I want to.
;>)
Just when you think your week is really starting to stink (literally) with smelly fungi sprouting in the yard, Newman losing a package and did I mention that my sink stopped up last night...
Anyhoo.
Just when you're having a no good, rotten, terrible, bad day, you find out that this poem won First Place in the State Creative Writing Competition.
Oh, yes M'am. Mama has been burnin' up the cell phone with this one.
And the Internet. And the local papers... OK, not the papers.
And did I also mention that I carried this child for 9 months and birthed her after a gazillion hours of labor and an epidural that wore off?
I did?
OK. I have been known to repeat myself.
It's my blawg and I'll brag if I want to.
;>)
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Hello again, Newman.
Newman and I aren't getting along.Newman lost a package that I "returned" but I wasn't really returning it. I was refusing delivery, because it took Newman over 2 weeks to deliver a package I had ordered from a "certain company" that supplies novelties and delightfully cheap crafts.
And I LOVE delightfully cheap crafts.
It was supposed to take a week for Newman to deliver said package. I was under a time restraint. The crafts were for Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving was fast approaching. The company offered to overnight a second package to me at no charge, using another shipping company. That package arrived on time and intact. The company suggested that I refuse deliver for Newman's package, because it would be the easiest method of handling the situation.
Boy, were we naive.
I actually drove to Newman's "office" and refused delivery, handing the slow and damaged packaged to him personally. Newman, in Newman's typical tone, was not even apologetic for the slow delivery or the fact that the package was damaged and partially opened.
Fast forward 3 months. The company has not received the returned package and now wants to charge me for the delightfully cheap crafts or have me mail the package to them. (The crafts I don't have from the package I never even opened.) In several phone calls, the company has suggested that I talk to Newman.
Newman.
Well, I did talk to Newman. Only Newman told me that it was out of his hands, since I was refusing delivery, there were no services involved and therefore nothing Newman could do. Newman advised me that I should have paid to prove the mail return, even though I was not actually mailing anything and in Newman's own words,"there were no services involved."
It's just like Newman to charge me for a service I am technically not receiving.
That Newman!
Tomorrow- Why I hate the library.
I am just full of joy today. Can ya tell?
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The grass is always stranger on the other side.
It's always a learning experience at our house.
Last night we were getting ready to go out for dinner when my daughter ran in the house to say,"Mama! Come quick! Snake eggs!"
Just as a reminder, we live in a rental house in your average, Edward Scissorhands, I can knock on the neighbor's door without leaving the house suburbia. We don't really know our neighbors that well, which, at times can be a good thing.
We also don't understand the complexity of their landscaping.
Our neighbor has a large, nicely landscaped area adjacent to our house. There are native plants and outdoor lighting and what appears to be snake eggs.
Daughter and I ran outside and found Daddy looking over the eggs in question. I ran up next to him and there they were- white egg-shaped somethings all nestled in the mulch. What's more, it looked like there were tiny, orange legs inside the eggs.
EEEWWWW!
The three of us stood over the egg nest and just threw out ideas-
"I don't think those are snake eggs. Snakes don't have legs."
"But, what is it? Alligator? Turtle? Birds?"
"Mama, I don't want you and Daddy to get bit!"
"This is totally grossing me out."
"Maybe they're dinosaurs... Mama's just kidding."
Then I poked at them with a stick because, well, that's what you do when you find something gross and you don't know what it is.
We encouraged daughter to go in and wash her hands so we could go to dinner. As she was inside, husband and I discussed the oddity in the neighbor's yard. We were certain that whatever these eggs were, they were not going to hatch now. Nothing could keep them warm and well, I had poked them with a stick.
So we headed off to dinner, still puzzled. I was praying that whatever was about to hatch in my yard was not deadly and that the Chinese restaurant we were going to did not have any crab claws or bird parts on the buffet.
EEEEWWW!
On the way there, we entertained the idea that the eggs could be a plant, a mushroom, or something alien. At the mention of "alien" my daughter said some kid did it, "probably a boy!" We finally managed to change the subject, have a nice dinner, then return home.
To the stench. The retched stench.
We pulled in the driveway, got out of the car and looked at each other, wrinkling up our noses.
"What is that smell?"
"Smells like a paper mill!"
"Must be sewage."
You see, after careful investigation on the trusty Internet upon our return home, I found out that our eggs were not eggs at all. They are nasty, disgusting, smelly, octopus stinkhorn mushrooms. They grow in mulch in perfect conditions, and it seems that right now it is a perfect condition.
And, poking them with a stick is the last thing you want to do when you have stinkhorns growing in your yard or your neighbor's yard. Kicking them doesn't help either. The stench will catch a summer breeze and ride around for miles, sticking its tongue out at people as it goes by.
Nah-nah-nah-nah-nahhhh!
So we don't have snakes or alligators or birds or aliens incubating next door. We have putrid, smelly mushrooms. I would have welcomed a nice, friendly rattler any day.
Update- I promise that I will take a picture and post it tomorrow.
Last night we were getting ready to go out for dinner when my daughter ran in the house to say,"Mama! Come quick! Snake eggs!"
Just as a reminder, we live in a rental house in your average, Edward Scissorhands, I can knock on the neighbor's door without leaving the house suburbia. We don't really know our neighbors that well, which, at times can be a good thing.
We also don't understand the complexity of their landscaping.
Our neighbor has a large, nicely landscaped area adjacent to our house. There are native plants and outdoor lighting and what appears to be snake eggs.
Daughter and I ran outside and found Daddy looking over the eggs in question. I ran up next to him and there they were- white egg-shaped somethings all nestled in the mulch. What's more, it looked like there were tiny, orange legs inside the eggs.
EEEWWWW!
The three of us stood over the egg nest and just threw out ideas-
"I don't think those are snake eggs. Snakes don't have legs."
"But, what is it? Alligator? Turtle? Birds?"
"Mama, I don't want you and Daddy to get bit!"
"This is totally grossing me out."
"Maybe they're dinosaurs... Mama's just kidding."
Then I poked at them with a stick because, well, that's what you do when you find something gross and you don't know what it is.
We encouraged daughter to go in and wash her hands so we could go to dinner. As she was inside, husband and I discussed the oddity in the neighbor's yard. We were certain that whatever these eggs were, they were not going to hatch now. Nothing could keep them warm and well, I had poked them with a stick.
So we headed off to dinner, still puzzled. I was praying that whatever was about to hatch in my yard was not deadly and that the Chinese restaurant we were going to did not have any crab claws or bird parts on the buffet.
EEEEWWW!
On the way there, we entertained the idea that the eggs could be a plant, a mushroom, or something alien. At the mention of "alien" my daughter said some kid did it, "probably a boy!" We finally managed to change the subject, have a nice dinner, then return home.
To the stench. The retched stench.
We pulled in the driveway, got out of the car and looked at each other, wrinkling up our noses.
"What is that smell?"
"Smells like a paper mill!"
"Must be sewage."
You see, after careful investigation on the trusty Internet upon our return home, I found out that our eggs were not eggs at all. They are nasty, disgusting, smelly, octopus stinkhorn mushrooms. They grow in mulch in perfect conditions, and it seems that right now it is a perfect condition.
And, poking them with a stick is the last thing you want to do when you have stinkhorns growing in your yard or your neighbor's yard. Kicking them doesn't help either. The stench will catch a summer breeze and ride around for miles, sticking its tongue out at people as it goes by.
Nah-nah-nah-nah-nahhhh!
So we don't have snakes or alligators or birds or aliens incubating next door. We have putrid, smelly mushrooms. I would have welcomed a nice, friendly rattler any day.
Update- I promise that I will take a picture and post it tomorrow.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Y'all, Come on in!
It's a Blog Party!
Are any of you allergic to cats? Just let me know. I'll put Maggie in the garage. We had some friends over once who didn't tell us ahead of time. They came over for dinner and the poor man started to wheeze and his eyes watered up. I felt just terrible. We put the cat out but it was too late. Our friend ended up going home early.
So, just let me know. Mama always said to make sure my guests are able to see clearly and breathe. That's just a standard of hospitality where I come from.
I lit some candles to get rid of the boiled shrimp smell. We had shrimp for dinner. Now it just smells like vanilla shrimp.
Feel free to have a Diet Coke, some sweet tea, or some coffee. I'll fix it for you. There are some finger foods in the dining room. Please, help yourself.
Oh, and excuse the fingerprints in the fudge. My daughter helped herself to some while I was in the kitchen... let me put that away right now...
Welcome! I am so glad you stopped by my little blog. That begonia on my porch has bloomed for a solid six months! It looks a little anemic and grey, though. The hyacinths haven't lost a single bloom and they have stayed a vibrant lavender. It's really amazing; I've never been able to grow a thing. My husband is the gardener in the family.
I love to write about everyday things. I really love to find humor in everyday things. Humor is what keeps me sane. And, let me tell y'all, I am teetering on the edge. I love being a wife and mom. God has blessed my life so much.
If you are new here, just make yourself at home. Have a seat and stay for a spell. You are welcome at our house any time!
After the storm...
He is still with you.
Please go here-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHdcyue0bSw
for some encouragement. I am having problems posting a video for some reason today.
Please pray for those recovering from the storms in Alabama, Georgia and Missouri.
Our hearts are with you.
Please go here-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHdcyue0bSw
for some encouragement. I am having problems posting a video for some reason today.
Please pray for those recovering from the storms in Alabama, Georgia and Missouri.
Our hearts are with you.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
This Is A Message From the Emergency Broadcast System
It has rained all day and there are tornado watches all over the southeast.
I can't help but think about this story-
Get the flashlight. I feel a drizzle.
Where's my purse?
I can't help but think about this story-
Get the flashlight. I feel a drizzle.
Where's my purse?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
