Smooooooch!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Consider yourself Christmas-smooched!

I Had to Laugh

I signed myself up for a little class on de-stressing.  It was just a single session thing offered through the county.  Heaven knows I could use help in de-stressing lately.  What did I have to lose?

So I walk in and am greeted by an apprehensive-looking woman who reluctantly informs me that the class has been canceled due to lack of enrollment.

Canceled.

No notice.

And not even an apology.

To say I was aggravated is an understatement.  This is not the first time the county has canceled programs I've enrolled in at the last minute, and I was really looking forward to this one.

She and I had a little discussion exploring the business practices of alienating the little business one does actually have left.  Her uninterested gaze reminded me that I was not dealing with a business person, I was dealing with a bureaucrat.  So I ended the discussion and left.

Onc my way home, I spent a little more time dwelling on the situation. 

And I had to laugh.

Imagine being in that woman's shoes. 

Having to cancel a class at the very last moment like that. 

And not any class, a stress management class --

In person,

to a stress case. 

Hmmmm.

No wonder she looked so apprehensive.

Maybe I didn't get the worst part of that situation this morning.

 

Repost: Chilling Questions

Right now, I'm not in a mind to conjure up anything new to write about, so I thought I would repost something from last year at this time.  Since my blog had fewer than 20 followers then, it will be new to most all of you. . . Here goes:

 


I lose a little more respect for my family each time I clean out the refrigerator.

No really.

Who lives like this? Who?

Are we a pack of raccoons?

Squirrels?

Who saved all this stuff? And who wasted all this stuff? For example, not one, but two jars of applesauce-- moldy? Two?? One is bad enough, but two?

And who bought the tube of pesto? A tube. Of pesto. We're more of a "pour and go" family. Jars. I buy toothpaste in tubes and that's about it. And bigger tubes than that.

And all those little ketchup and mustard packets? Do we really think we're going to use those? We're really going to dig those out from under the giant ketchup bottle that rests on top of all those pitiful, little packets? Sure we will. And how did those get in there in the first place? Perhaps they spawned from the ketchup and mustard bottles, together, right next to each other. I don't know.

All questions for minds quicker than mine.

And here's another one . . .

How does all that lint get in there? Who is changing their clothes in the refrigerator!?

That's not that far-fetched, you know. The smell that prompted this latest cleaning tirade conjured images of my son's wadded up socks smoldering in the lettuce crisper.

It turned out to be the butter.

Don't ask me. Quicker minds, I told you.

Thursday Thunks

Time for Thursday Thunks . . .

1. Do you have any special talents? Tell us about them.  Well, I've been told I'm a pretty good arguer.  Wanna make somethin' of it?

2. What is your favorite sound?  Hmmmm . . . probably my son's, "Good Morning, Mommy!"  or maybe the chimes on a town clock or perhaps the angelic voices of a boys' choir. the coo of a mourning dove . . . how can anyone answer this?

3. What was your favorite TV show as a child or teen?  I was big into Little House on the Prairie as a child, I confess.

4. There are a lot of specialty TV networks now devoted to things like golf, gardening, shopping, game shows, sports, news and sci-fi. Do you have any favorite TV networks?  I like the Food Network and the new Cooking TV. 

5. What is your guilty pleasure TV show?  The Real Housewives of ______.  What?  Oh, you love them, too!

6. Have you ever dreamt that you made love to someone you haven’t yet met?  Yes, and that's all I'm saying unless you buy me dinner.

7. What is your favorite sci-fi movie?  King Kong -- classic.

8. What is your favorite reality show?  It's a tie between Top Chef and Project Runway.  (Tie -- clothing humor, get it?)

9. When shopping at the grocery store, do you always return your cart?  Of course I do . . . what kind of psychopath do you think I am?

10. Do you take compliments well?  I'm horrible at it.  Don't say anything nice or I will have to argue with you until I win (see answer to #1).


To read more answers or to participate yourself, click over to Thursday Thunks.

Mutiny On the Bounty Aisle

 
The balance of the universe has been upset.

Leaders overthrown.

Mayhem.

Can you feel it? Has everything been a little askew for you since last weekend?

Me, too.

Here's what happened:

I was sick last weekend.

We needed food.

My husband went to the grocery store and took the kids with him.

Now, my husband does not get to the grocery store very often at all and almost never with the kids. He was like a babe in the woods . . . a babe in the woods escorted by two sharks.

A few years ago, when my children were preschool age and in the middle of a raging sibling rivalry, I established some ground rules for grocery store conduct.

1.  No one pushes the cart, but me.

2.  No one rides on the cart. (My daughter can't stay on, and my son is so tall I can't see past him.)

3.  No one grabs anything off the shelf, but me.

4.  No one puts anything in the cart unless I expressly ask them to. (Grabbing things out of my hand while offering to put them in the cart is not helpful and not appreciated, because it only provokes the other one to grab more quickly next time resulting in my virtual mugging every time I pick an item off the shelf.)

And 5.  My daughter (as the chief offender) must walk slightly behind my son. (This method makes racing impossible and reduces cut-offs drastically.)

These rules may sound harsh, but they are not as harsh as my tone of voice and mood upon exiting the grocery store before said rules were invoked. Harmony for all, that's my motto.

So my poor, innocent, naive husband returned from the grocery store, the kids sheepishly following behind him. Once I confirmed that he did, indeed, get my juice and cough drops, I remarked on the notable tension in the room.

My husband choked out, through gritted teeth, "These two were just terrible. They drove me nuts the entire time."

I looked at them.  They averted my gaze.

I looked back at my husband.  "You didn't let them push the cart, did you?"

"Well, yeah, why?"

Why? Why???

All the things I have worked so hard for . . . the peace, the harmony, the order . . . all down the drain . . .

My son pushed the cart.

My daughter "helped" by putting things in the cart.

My son began "correcting" the order of things in the cart.

My daughter resented said correction.

Bickering.

Racing.

Cut-offs. 

Toes run over.

Limping.

Tattling.



Mayhem.  Just may.hem.

All rules thrown over.

Power has shifted back to the sharks.

All in one innocent trip to the grocery store.

 

Pssssst!

In a strange turn of events -- okay, it's movie night at school . . . for a cool $50 both my kids can go back to school and watch a movie in their same classrooms with the same classmates and teachers they see everyday.  To say I didn't see the allure is an understatement, but feeling like we can't say no to everything AND knowing the money goes to a good cause, I said yes.

And now I say:  Yipppeeeee!

Because it just occurred to me that my husband and I will be having dinner alone tonight for the first time in ages.

It's a beautiful night.

Steaks on the grill . . .

Potatoes, too.

And mushrooms.

A little wine . . .

And time to eat . . .

And no one to warn.

And . . .

Gotta go!




Get your minds out of the gutter, we have to pick them up at 7:00!

Spring Brakes

When you're a parent, you do things for your children.

Right?

Whatever they need, you do. You're a parent.

Me, I'm a mom.

I would lay down my life for my children.

You know I would.

There is no sacrifice too large for my children.

I have been pregnant. I've watched my feet swell beyond my own recognition. I went months without eating any salt. (Oh, yeah? Try it for, like, 4 hours.) I endured hours of labor only to submit to a c-section in the end.

There were sleepless nights of rocking and lullabying, and kicking and flailing (no, not me).

There are the adventures with food. Things they like, things they don't and whatever ramifications thereafter flow.

I don't think I have to mention the soiled diapers . . . and pants . . . and socks . . .

There are the nightmares.

And the first days of school.

The fevers. The scrapes and bumps. The stitches.

Hours spent watching shows starring purple dinosaurs, green grouches, and animated rabbits

And round-the-clock, on-demand psycho-therapy regarding the delusion of monsters existing under the bed.

But all those pale in comparison to what I am being asked to endure today.

Today.

ugh.

This may be it for me today.

As you may know, it is spring break in our little kingdom. We did the usual things, Easter, picnic, playground, shopping, cleaning rooms (yes, it's not all beer & skittles, even when you're 9).

But we planned something special for these last few days of spring break.

A water park.

Not just any waterpark.

Great Wolf Lodge.

If you're not familiar with Great Wolf Lodge, allow me to elaborate:

Indoor waterpark.

Six story water slide.

Wave pools.

Splash mountain.

And much, much more.

That's right? Who needs sleep? Who needs food? When you can just swim and splash and swim some more.

I watched with horror as my son pulled a robe that caused a pail to overturn and dump water onto an unsuspecting boy on the level beneath him.

I sat forward, ready to jump up and save my son from the certain pummeling he richly deserved.

But the unsuspecting victim just wiped the water from his eyes, laughed, and went on his way.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??

Surely, they are not my kind.

This is my kind:

I hate the water.

I don't like water on my face.

I get mad.

My maiden voyage on an innertube in the wading pool ended with me grabbing for my husband and screaming (between gulps of water), "Help me! I hate you! HELP ME!!"

I got water up my nose and, obviously, on my face.

(Think back to yesterday. Remember that weird little moment in the afternoon when the sun was suddenly covered over by a black cloud and a strong, mean breeze blew through? Yah, t'was me.)

I have a new strategy today.

You. See how you're protecting me? Here I sit with my cherry mocha from the in-house Starbucks, still in my pajamas.

Nice and dry.

The kids and my husband have already gone ahead to the waterpark.

Interestingly, no one implored me quite as passionately to join them this morning.

Too bad.

Blogger Bummer

When I read about Blogger's new limitations on pictures, I couldn't believe it.  ONE picture per posting?!?!?!!  That's ridiculous . . . not to mention totally impossible.

Don't they understand that pictures are essential to so many blogs?

Decorating blogs need pictures in order to communicate.  Same with any and all crafting blogs . . . any lifestyle blogs, too. 

I just can't believe it. 

April Fool's!