News Of The Day

Today I wore my turquoise cowboy hat to the pool and I felt pretty dashing, so I didn't worry as much about my Vera thighs and cupcake belly. Sher and I swam, and I played a haphazard game of Marco Polo with her, from which I was relieved to be rescued by K. I don't do good with Marco Polo. The boys then played "try to knock mommy off her raft" and I threatened to box their jaws if they didn't leave me alone. To be honest, they really are not that scared of me.
We are all as brown as nuts now, and we are having such a wonderful time. This vacation has been good for the soul.
Something funny to me, is how "bored" the boys are with the beach. It seems that 10 hours of video games don't bore one quite like 3 hours at a beach paradise. Every morning when we head down for the water, laden like pack mules with towels, coolers, and umbrellas; they don't act too interested, but once we are there they forget to be bored and have a good time in spite of themselves. I am worried though because by now most people are saying, "I am ready to go home." I am not.........Laters.

Cupcake Payback

So instead of thinking, "Oh I am on vacation in Destin," I am thinking, "OMG I look so fat in my bikini!"
I looked at some of the pictures that I took our first day on the beach and its such a shame that I will have to burn them instead of posting them in my scrapbook. Haha ok, I don't scrapbook, but if I did I would have to cut myself out with the cute little zigzag scissors that scrapbookers use. All the cupcakes have caught up with me.
Besides my belly fat issues, we are having a wonderful time and I will post as I have Internet access... which isn't often. I love vacation!! Laters.

My Adventures Since You Last Saw Me

You may or may not know it, but I am on vacay. Oh boy, do I love vacation! We started the week off by finishing the packing for the move to the new house and a semi-lazy Sunday, in which we had 2 services, which slowed down our start.
After service, we left straight from the church and drove four hours to our hotel. By the time we were close (at about 12:30 am) K was doing the rumble strip tango and I was doing him the big favor of screaming loudly, "you're weaving all over the road, why won't you let me drive?" K loves it when I correct his driving, so we agreed to disagree and we were not kind to one another for the next few minutes.
The day started somewhat better on Monday and after a long drive we made it to the lake house for our first day of vacay!
We swam and boated and I drove the Sea-Doo at 6o mph and practically scared myself silly. As a natural-born safety scissors, the speed and whistling wind were too much for me and I was overcome by the need for calm. I goosed the throttle twice more up to 60 just to show myself who was boss and to prove that I could be wild and crazy and then I took it back to the dock. K got a picture and if you could actually see me, instead of a humanoid shaped blob, you would see how carefree and risky I looked.
It was a great start and now we are visiting dear friends in Lexington, SC.
I certainly have needed this time of peace and rest so I am drinking it all in like a thirsty camel. I still have the beach to look forward to! Laters.

The Comforts of Home

I have decided that instead of moving I will just burn down my house. And State Farm Agent Marty O'Neil, if you are reading my blog and while I am on vacay, my house mysteriously burns down from the rat's barbeque or the like, I was totally, totally kidding.

Moving is really difficult in myriad and diverse ways, but the part that I hate the most is the sad vibes that come from the neglected house. There is a point where everything is in the worst state of confusion and clutter (hence the burning reference) and that is where I always want to walk away and just leave all my junk and start again.

Moving is hard for those of us who don't like change. I like things to always be the same and even when I can sense a better opportunity, being strong enough to reach for it is difficult for a stick-in-the-mud like me. Moving feels like wrenching all my security away. When I sit on the toilet, I think, "Hey, I know this toilet." When I open a drawer, I think, "Hey I know this drawer." When I sit on my chaise I know where the table is and where my coffee cup sits. Now I don't know where anything goes and I have to find a new drawer, and place for my cup.

But I can deal with it, so cheers for me and my new place. I know it will feel like home pretty soon. Laters.

Sexy Boots

I have decided that I don't wear my cowboy boots often enough. I plan to rectify that problem starting now. Laters.

Fun Factor

My dad was the father who, when we wanted Happy Meals, told us to smile and it would be happy.

When we fell, he had a repertoire of witty quotes that all went something like this, "Come here and I'll help you up."

But he also gave me his lunch money, doing without so that I could have.

He drove to Sonic in the "woody" to see why I wasn't home/embarrass me in front of all my friends. I realize now this equals love.

He gave me chances to fulfill my dreams and I never realized that chances are what they were. Perfect opportunities, but I do see it now, and I am even more grateful.

From him, I learned that sometimes if you wait patiently, things will come to you without being chased.

From him, I learned to trust my own judgment because he believed that I would make the right decision.

I know now, that he was interested in living the experience, about making our lives diverse and enjoyable, about finding something fun in the everyday. He was successful. All the fun excursions to the zoo and outings to Lake Arbuckle and Little Niagara are tucked safely away in my memory banks. The trips down old dirt roads leading nowhere are now treasured. I love the memory of my dad shooting down a 100 foot water slide to delight of my own children. His reason- he couldn't let my boys show him up. I repeat the same quest for fun with my own children. I pledge to carry the fun torch.

I heard from my sister-in-law about their Sunday drive about their small town and I felt jealous.

What is better than dinner at Snappy Tomato Pizza and then a drive around town ogling houses with Mr. Larry at the wheel to point out all the fun sights? I would say nothing. Laters.

My Kids Are Home!!!

Some things I did not miss:

Mooooooooom, he is touching me
Tripping over shoes in the floor
Mystery wads of toilet paper left on the bathroom counter
Strawberry cake frosting mysteriously smeared by NO ONE all over the kitchen floor
Endless rounds of Hannah Montana and The Suite Life on Disney
Being awoken at 1 am by someones bad dream
The fight over who gets the back seat
The Great Lunch Debate
The too hot/cold complaints
Aimless requests for money
Dirty underpants left on the soggy bathroom rug
The never ending game of Go Fish

Yes, they have done/said all these things in the 24 hours since their return, but golly I'm glad they are home! Laters.

From Back In The Day

Haven't done poetry Thursday in a while, so here you go.

Some relevant background information: My 3^rd grade class acted this out for Parent's Night and I was the back end of the Jabberwocky. I can still recite it on demand.

Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand; Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

A Tiny Bit Of Sarcasm

I am thinking that I might not be a good Christian after all because I don't end my letters and emails with things like "In His Mercy," "In His Service," "Gripped by Grace," or "Clasped Firmly In The Hands Of God." I just usually put "Thanks," or "Regards" and leave it at that.

If I were a good Christian, I would undoubtedly have gone on 10 mission trips to build schools in Africa or dig wells in a remote shanty town in India. I would also make sure to tell everyone else in the church who couldn't afford to go about my "life changing" adventure just to spread the good word.

If I were good, I would have drunk directly out of the same communion cup as a leper and not worried about cooties or disease.

I would have wiped the sweat off a beggar's brow with my own shirt and then worn it all day-sweat side in.

I would always preface the important messages that God "gave" me for others with things like, "I am only saying this because I love you," and "God loves the sinner, but hates the sin."

I would always end my plans for vacation with the phrase, "Lord Willing" and hope that I hadn't dared to presume to take a vacay that might directly tick off Jehovah and ruin His cosmic plan for my life.

I would have large fish symbol or "If you think it's hot here….." bumper stickers displayed humbly on the back of my car and maybe throw in a nattily airbrushed "Jesus" vanity plate in the back window to really get the point across.

I would not be irritated by the well-dressed panhandler who always spots me in Grand Central. You know- the one who always "leaves" his wallet at home and needs a ticket to Armonk.

I would wear the WWJD charm bracelets I get from parishioners as Christmas gifts with pride instead of giving them to my six year old for her dress up box.

I would ask the little children to come unto me, especially the ones who scream for 2 hours on a 3 hour flight or publically eat scabs and or boogers.

Disclaimer: I planned to end this with a heartfelt summary about being a Christ follower, but I can't now because I have cracked myself up. And I don't suppose that this is a blog you read for spiritual insight-so you shouldn't too disappointed. Laters.

(If you have a bumper sticker or a mission trip under your belt, no offense intended)

Melancholy Baby

I love that funerals make everyone forget all the bad stuff. My dad used to call it “preaching someone into heaven.” I think that it occurs because the loss of the person is felt so strongly that we cannot imagine them unhappy or sad; that we hope in death, they have achieved the peace and happiness that eluded them in life.
Regardless, it is an interesting phenomena and that is what I like about it. Everyone deserves the “perfect” chance and maybe that is just what heaven is.
I hope that no one will remember the bad things about me like my cupcake addiction, my tendency to be nasty in the morning before I’ve had coffee, and the fact that I like to slam doors when I am angry and that I never clean behind my toilets.
If anything is remembered, let it be my shoes or my ever-changing hair color or the fact that I will invite someone over for dinner even if I don’t like them; just so they aren’t alone. Remember that I love my kids more than my own life and that I think dessert should be a required course of every meal- even quiet dinners at home. Remember that I am the consummate impulse shopper and that it’s ok because I probably needed it anyway. Remember that I need a few toe-dips in the pool before I am ready to dive in, but once I’m in; I’m in all the way.
Remember it and tell me now, saving it up is a waste. Laters.

R. I. P.

These shoes walked 2 miles today.

I am proud of them and the legs and feet they are attached to.

I sprinted the last quarter mile.

I almost lost my shorts.

That would have been funny.

Laters.

The 4th Post

I have been invited to a pool party to participate in a celebratory manner the birthday of our great nation. I ask in advance for your forgiveness.

Please forgive me for my white legs and visible stretch marks.

Forgive me for thinking that I am firm and twenty one.

Forgive the tiny bikini that will do its best to support me, but fail miserably.

Please forgive the, ahem, "tiny" pot belly that exists from 3 kids and cupcakes.

Please forgive the slightly jiggly thighs and derriere, I have been slacking at the gym.

Please, embrace my flaws and say nothing of them while I enjoy my day in the sun. Laters.

Hail To Thee, Oh Cupcake

Tonight I rewarded myself with a Crumbs Baba Booey cupcake. What was the reward for you ask? Because I am super awesome- just ask anyone.

If you don't know, the Baba Booey is a chocolate cupcake with chocolate and peanut butter frosting, liberally sprinkled with peanut butter chips and a gooey peanut butter center. I split it with K just to be fair to my diet, but it was super tasty. K ate almost all of my piece anyway, so most of the guilt properly resides in his tummy.

I think we have found a new house, so I have the new house excitement vs. the packing/moving dread. Right now the new house euphoria is winning, but the packing flashbacks are giving me some serious twinges right behind my left eye.

A good day overall, though I miss my piggies and I want them home. K misses them too. Laters

Hell No You Can't Go!

I have been pulled into the great movie debate by my 12- almost 13 year old son. He wants to see Transformers and after consulting my handy online parent review I gave him a definite NO! The reviews specifically mention cussing, violence, and lots of shots of Megan Fox's underwear clad butt. This all seems designed to lead a young, impressionable boy to places no mother is comfortable with. Plus, as someone who spends a lot of time walking around in underwear, I really couldn't stand up to the Megan/Jacinta butt comparisons that he might be forced to make.

He gave me the "all my friends are doing it" spiel to which I barely restrained myself. Oh, how I longed to give him the timeless reply "if all your friends jumped off a bridge would you?" Less satisfaction, but I am happy that I acted like an adult.

K was wavering and I felt like the meanest mom ever, but I think that part of good parenting is trusting your judgement and I judge that booty shots are not good for 12- almost 13 year old boys. In a teeny, tiny corner of my heart I do feel bad for him especially since he texted me to tell me he was emotionally scarred for life. My reply- "I doubt it." Laters.