Spot on!

Spot is our family's chihuahua.  He is what we call, "an evil dictator/stuffed animal come to life".  Sometimes, after he has blasted out of his resting place right at your face, you might also call him a "pit viper".  Either way, he don't play.
He is feisty.  His looks are perfect and handsome.  Black and White markings end perfectly and precisely along his belly, down his legs, and down the bridge of his nose.
At some point a wild animal got ahold of him and he was {severely} injured.  Now, when he breathes in moments of excitement he sounds like Darth Vader and scares people who don't know his habits.
He is really fine, but he looks like he struggles, cracked ribs and all.
When we pull into the driveway and he comes running to greet us beside of Prissy, our other dog, it just melts our hearts, all our hearts (all five of them), even though he is mostly only nice to two of us!
At some point Spot decided he was only going to like three or four people.  Two of those live under our roof and the other two are Nana and Papa.
There is no love lost going the other direction either.  Most people really don't love or even love Spot.  My friends have to call or text me from the driveway to get into my house.  Several dog lovers have suffered the hand and ankle biting ON PURPOSE to try to "help him overcome his fear," to no avail.  He is nine now, so I don't see these habits changing on this side of the rainbow bridge.  It has actually been a source of much comic relief at times, once people learn to just leave him alone.  That means don't look at him, greet him, anything.  Just walk by his dog bed, or you will unleash his wrath and fury.
Since we have been trapped, all together, in the house this week I have noticed something about Spot.  I have been sleeping in the living room on a futon b/c Andy works at the hospital and I am trying to avoid whatever germs he might be bringing home.  I really would have thought he would have slept with me.  I like to think I am Spotty's favorite. This is what I have noticed:  He has not slept with me {every} night.  He has slept with Andy most nights.  He chose one or two nights, however, to sleep with me.  The couple nights before I faced a surgery (the surgery did not happen in the end, but it was up in the air at the time), Spot decided to sleep with me.
This made me realize something.  There is so much more to Spot's personality.  I think he was feeling our vibes.  He senses which one of us {needs} him the most and decides his sleeping spot accordingly.  Spot on, buddy!!

It's been a long time

Hey readers out there....HEY!
I am back.
The blog life was calling me back.

There is something creative about blogging and it was the something I have been craving.

The last time I blogged regularly I had three very small children.
There was a spot on my backporch that faced out the big windows where I would sit, all by myself, and just get it all out.
All my creative ideas and thoughts about whatever could just flow.

Since that time of regular blogging I have stopped writing completely.  I just stopped.
All that fun information, all the ideas, all the {vida} has been getting stuck and swirling around.  At least twice a week I think of blog entries.  I write a funny essay in my mind and then I do nothing.

So, this is it!
I am going to write, on my blog, my funny thoughts, any time I want to!
Well, I mean, when I am not at work, or cooking, or reading, or running, or taking kids hither and yon.
Every now and then I am going to sit and write my blog posts!

This should be a healthy way to get my thoughts out and my creativity too!

I hope someone is still here. :)

Expect the imperfected

I don't know if you can see from this photo, dear reader, but my toenails were lovingly painted by my nine year old in her salon yesterday.

After she polished her toenails, she offerred her spa services to her sister and me.  We gladly accepted, (don't we all want our feet rubbed??).  Her toenails looked so fab.

When she painted mine, she was a bit crestfallen b/c the pedicure turned out in 3D--there were clumps of polish sticking up and she had to spend about 10 minutes cleaning polish from around my nails.  In the process she also took the polish off my nails, and she had to start again.

We talked about practicing and what it means to practice and do things over and over and then, eventually things turn our more like you envision them, some version of perfect.

I really don't like things to be too perfect.  It bothers me. It makes me nervous.

When Eva said, "mama, you are probably going to want to wear your tennis shoes out b/c that polish is looking bad."  I told her NO WAY!  I rocked that bright pink polish right to the restaurant, and will continue to rock it until her salon opens again.

A Tale of two Matinees

This week in our part of the world the weather has been particularly wet and cloudy.  We have spent time inside, hanging out together.  I have also had a cold, probably the result of playing in the cool rain and swimming in the 65 degree ocean last week, then passing ratos sitting on the beach (without sun to dry me off).  Who knows?  Vamos, I needed to recover.  

Thursday and Friday, we decided, would be the days to go watch two movies of the summer we have been wanting to see.

Thursday we went to see Teen Titans Go!  That movie was so funny.  y'all, if you have not watched Teen Titans Go with a set of kids, you need to find some kids and watch that cartoon.  It comes on Cartoon Network pretty much back to back all day every day.  My kids had told me that they did not want to see the movie--they pretty much all agreed! (I was so sad--rite of passage, leaving kiddie cartoons behind).  BUT, later on, in a moment of weakness, they all also said, they DID want to see the movie.  Yay!!  Teen Titans Go! was the usual funny.  It only lasted 1.5 hours.  They are all written for incredibly short attention spans.  At the end of the movie, Robin is trying to tell the kids the "message (moral) of the story".  No one will let him.  He manages to squeeze in a message to the kids, "Hey kids, on your way home, ask your mom and dad how babies are made."  FUNNY!!  My kids all know--that is another post.  We all laughed.

Friday was going to be the day for Elena and me to watch "Mamma Mia."  Then, I thought about it, and decided all of us would go.  Eva  (9), Victor (11), Elena (13), and me.  I asked a couple friends and they all agreed that all their kids liked it.  It'a a musical...so hey!  As the movie unraveled it was hilarious to me how we were all processing the movie (probably).  Victor the least interested in the movie about love, and how the girl did not know which of three men was her dad and the teenager was discovering her purpose by escaping to Greece.  Eva was into the music and she was trying to figure out who was who b/c the movie kept switching b/t 1979 and 2005 (or so).  She was sitting beside me, so I was the resident explainer.  She thought the two young actresses looked "just alike".  That is a hoot to me b/c they really don't.  I have no idea what Elena was thinking, and most of the time I do not.  I can imagine, having been a 13 year old girl myself, that looking at all those beautiful people in a movie about love--well, you know... I think I am blushing just writing about it LOL.  I was in a complete dream state.  First of all I think any United Statesian who is 40 or older  probably has a lobe of their brain, right by their brainstem called the ABBA portion.  That music conjures up so much emotion for me.  Also, at 40 I was reminscing my own days living abroad etc.  Also, the scenery in that movie!! GOSH!  Then Cher popped up and I was like....this is so wierd.  She was not necessary for this... Her part in the movie was so contrived.  Then she pronounced the name, "Cien fuegos" as "Sin fuegos"  --look it up.  Completely changes the meaning.  Back to the good parts.  Lily James-is the next Julia Roberts in my mind, and when I grow up, I want to be Christine Baranski.  I have loved that woman ever since she was in that show with Cybil Sheppard in the 1990's--she was Maryanne.  GOSH!! Did y'all see her kick her leg up all the way to her face! At some points I found myself feeling embarrased about Donna having the three one night stands in a row and insisting that she "never did this" LOL.  My kids were watching!! Whatevs.  The whole two days with matinees had an underlying theme in the end.  (hee hee).  After the movie I had two potential drives 1.  to binge drink good wine with a friend and dance to ABBA or 2.  to come home and listen to ABBA and paint my kitchen.  Here is the result!  Here are my little movie mates being proud of their work.  Have a great day!

Pick a pronoun, any pronoun

No! Don't!

Please pick the {correct} pronoun.

Recently, I have noticed there is a pattern of people over-using the word, "myself".

Let me explain what "myself" is.

"Myself" is a relfexive pronoun.

It is the pronoun one should use with a verb in which the action of the verb is happening to oneself.

Here are some examples:

I ask myself.

I reminded myself.

I dressed myself.

See?  In each sentence above the verb's action happened to me.  That is why I used, "myself" as the pronoun.

People, I am thinking attempting to sound smart, use myself all the time.

They use myself as the object of the preposition.

Here is an example:  Please give your completed permission forms to Jim or myself.

STOP!!

Correct:  Please give the completed permission forms to Jim or me.

Trust me.

They use myself when they should just use the simple, first person pronoun, "I".

Here is an example:  My wife, Kathy, my daughter, and myself went to the basement to seek shelter.

No!

Correct:  My wife, Kathy, my daughter, and I went to the basement to seek shelther.

Gosh, I wish this could go viral b/c my ears pure sting when I hear people who want to sound smart over-using the poor little pronoun "myself".  There is a time and a place for this lovely pronoun.  Unfortunately, it is being over-used and linguistically abused.

Here are the people I hear using it:  news reporters, preachers, teachers, principals, doctors, ...pues the list goes on and on!

Once you start listening for it, it will drive you crazy too.

My view

On being {smart}

On Being {smart}:

When I was a little girl I learned that being {smart} was a good thing.  Smart in this piece will pertain to intelligence, not to the overall organization of a person as in the British sense of the word (which I love to use, by the way).  I was smart.  My sister was smart.  People who did {well} in life were smart (they got where they were because they were smart.) Smart might get you a scholarship.  Smart got you into all the good classes at our rural public schools.  Smart got you respect.  Smart got you friends above your class (big middle class in the 1980s with lots of nuance).  Smart got you babysitting jobs.  It earned you trust that you might not even deserve.  

At some point I realized that I thought about things a whole lot more than other people.  The things I thought about worried me.  I was probably 8 years old or so.  When I watched the news and saw people suffering, being greedy, being hypocrites, etc.  I worried.  When I learned about loving the planet, all they while depending upon plastic for basically everything, I worried.  I was definitely 8 years old.  I don't remember a time when the world's problems did not worry me at night.  This, I have read, was a common side effect of being {smart}.  It was a drawback.  Smart people worry.  Smart people let their ability to soak in information completely overwhelm them.  

In high school where my smarts got me through all academic work with relative ease, including helping other people pass AP exams when I tutored them, I started to realize some things.  I was working.  I was planning.  I was worrying.  I watched my parents work, plan, worry.  Then, I noticed a whole other subset of the population who didn't appear to worry about sh*t.  They would come into the video store where I worked and check out 15 horror movies on Friday night, return them on Sunday.  They would ride around in their clunker cars, stinky, buy a case of beer and go fishing all day from a pier.  They would cook that fish, choke on a bone, and go to the emergency room to get it taken out.  Did they have insurance on their camper?  Did they have medical insurance to pay for the E room visit? No.  Did they worry about drinking too much beer?  No.  They were not worried about sh*t.  They worked at K-mart all week.  Made enough money to buy some beer.  Bought it.  Drank it.  Repeat.  Kids...they had however many they had.  Did they worry about kids getting hurt, going to college, going to school, being smart?  Nope.  Not one bit.  They {appeared} to live day-by-day.  Happy as hell, or at least satisfied, and not worried.  I observed this at the beach, and I told my mama one time--"you know, it's almost a curse, what we {have}, being {smart}.  I won't live a day in my life without worrying, planning, working.  Those people seem to be just fine, and they don't appear to do any of those things.

Now that I am approaching middle age I wonder what good being smart even does a person.

If I thought, as a child, that being {smart} would lead to riches.  I know now, that is not true.  Some of the dumbest people I know are raking in money selling {whatthehellevers}.  Some of the smartest people I have known are broke as hell, or crazy, or have died from drug over doses.  You might say, "well they weren't too smart, if they were doing drugs."  Well I will ask you to refer to the part above where I talked about the worrying.  

To recent high school graduates I would say: "sell things young darling.  think of the seven deadly sins and sell something that pertains to any of those."  You want to be in the {helping profession}?   nope!  Don't do it!  Working in a helping profession will only lead you down the path to worry.  Society will ABSOLUTELY not value what you do enough to even pay you back what you will pay for college.  Nope.  Don't do it.  

Here are some anecdotal stories from my recent everyday life to drive this point home. Just some snapshots:

a couple weeks ago i drove my husband's 2001 Camry to the bakery to get some scones b/c friends were coming that weekend and we were gonna watch the royal wedding.  I was tired as hell and greasy after a long Friday at the Elementary School where I work.  I paid 30.00 for a box of baked treats.  As I was getting into my car, via opening the driver's side door from the back door b/c the door does not work, I noticed the bakery owner (who is a lovely person and a friend of mine) leaving work in her Porsche.  Let's see:  I help Autistic kids learn to communicate and was educated six years to learn this and I don't make enough to have a working car-door handle, and she sells flaky, buttery bread to people.... 

Last week another friend commented to me  that she was super nervous about the running of their new business selling ice cream along the river front in my town b/c in one day they only made 800.00.  She was comparing that, in her head, to the money she makes consulting.  I was comparing it to the 1/3 of my yearly salary they will make in a month.  So, she is selling fatty, sugary dairy food to the people in my town and running a consulting business (not sure what goes on there) and makes what i just said... and I help deaf preschoolers find the resources they need among our modest means to be communicators...and when we got back into the car after I left her ice cream shop one of my kids had to let my husband into the driver's side.

Those two ladies happen to be very smart.

Another acquaintance of our family and actually, other good friends, sells nabs for a living.  He literally drives a van around and fills up vending machines all over the Eastern part of the state satisfying our snacking needs with wholesale snacks.  Their family does not worry about money.  Ever.  

It almost feels like a betrayal that I would mention these people in this context, but I must.  These are the examples I have of how fucked up it is that I am smart, I have a wonderful profession, I work hard--but I will never have they financial stability and ability to buy a car/house/vacation etc. that these people have who, really, are just selling stuff.

What {does} a consultant to that is vital?

When I have told parents how much I charge for therapy in the summer, they scoff at the idea that they would pay for speech therapy.  That should be {free}.  

All of this frustrates me daily.

I have no desire to keep up with the Jones, but I would like to take a really nice vacation and go {somewhere} each year.  We cannot even {really} afford to go to Busch Gardens as a family.  We might do it, but we will be paying it off over the course of a year or so--bc we put the whole adventure on the credit card.  So there is an adventure with a side of guilt and worry on top.

The one thing that being smart has gotten me is that I learned another language.  Some part of me needs to believe that the only reason I am able to speak Spanish like I do is because of my smarts.  It is the ONE ACADEMIC accomplishment that gives me pride.  Degrees don't.  Naming my Alma Mater does not.  

I might also tell recent grads to sell insurance.  I sure missed a memo on that one!  It is unbelievable to me how much money those fuckers make!  Every insurance salesman I know appears to not worry about one damned thing (oh the irony)!  Why didn't someone fill me in on the good gig these folks have--selling us {guarantees} that if our worst nightmares come true--they will use the money we have already paid in, and {help} us out?  

So, let's see.  So far being {smart} has 1. caused me worry since childhood, 2. not benefitted me financially, and 3.  quite obviously caused me a bitterness that wells up very strong from time-to-time.   How was being smart good again?

Sometimes I vent about this among friends and every now and then one will try to reassure me by saying, "but look, susie, being smart has brought you three wonderfully {smart} children."  And to that I say, "go back to the beginning of this essay, and read it again."  

Maybe my children will be able to afford therapy so that they can tell a professional about this on a couch one day. 

I cannot afford one, so I will write.

Ay que vida!

A second adolescence?

I am 39.  In June the big 40 is coming.  It seems that at close to 40 I am experiencing a second adolesence.  This mostly manifests itself in the rapidly changing relationship I have with my parents.  In order to understand the change, dear reader, you have to know how the relationship {was}.

All my life my parents have taken care of me.  There. Simple as that!  They listen to me.  We converse.  When I was little, they helped with homework when I needed it.  Over time a lot of that help has come in the form of {back up} money.  They have always given me emotional support.  It all goes back to the basics.  They take care of me.  When Andy and I first moved back to Washington they even took care of our children during the day while we worked, or at night if we went out.  

Over the past couple of years, however, this has been changing.  My children are all older.  They are at school all day (as of four years ago).  Andy and I are at work all day.  The  times when we see our parents are mostly snippets of time on the weekends.  We eat lunch at my parents' house almost every Sunday.  Sometimes my mama will cry to me about how fast my children have grown up.  She mourns the loss of babies and toddlers, while I (in my active mamahood) enjoy and relish in all their changes.

One time about two summers ago, I was at their house and my mama and I had a pretty rough argument.  She was doing her usual (sort of criticizing me or some choice I made), and in one instant I decided, "Damn it! I am not listening to this kind of talk ever again!"  my children and I left.  We were upset with eachother for a bit, and it passed.  

Do you see the struggle there?  How it closely resembles adolescence?  She was criticizing our dogs.  Well, she doesn't even like dogs, so what she thinks of mine is irrelevant to me.  Funny thing, before I would have taken the criticism to heart. It would have affected me.  All  of a sudden, that day, I just thought: "This is crazy as hell!  I don't care what you think about my dogs!!"

My dad is really aging.  It has become harder and harder to have conversations with him.  There is no medical diagnosis to explain this change, but I bet you can read between the lines.

I have always been a daddy's girl!! He is my favorite person, just about!! He is a very smart man who, not so long ago, built two rooms onto my house for {free}.  He loves us and will do just about anything for us.  

Adolescence take two has also interferred here.  All of a sudden he became the classic "grumpy old man"  We had several instances of him really blasting some decision I made.  At some point I thought, "hold on a minute, this is not even like your Dad, Susan, what in the hell is going on?"  

This change has been exrta tough on me.  

It is super hard to realize that:  most any daily conversation you would have with a friend, your parents don't want to hear it, or cannot understand it, if you need money you must earn it at your job or go to the {real} bank, if something is broken--Daddy can't fix it (even if he thinks he still can), if you have some controversial opinion or discussion to have--these two aren't your conversation partners.  My mama cannot hear so well anymore, so she does a lot of lip reading, thus phone conversations are a bitch, to say the least.  She is mostly a cut-to-the-chase phone partner b/c she cannot hear you.

When we visit ever-so-briefly on Sundays (my mama likes brief visits only) we mostly just remember stuff.  They like to reminisce.  My dad has about three conversations he is able to have.  I am a fan of none of them.  

Over the past couple of years I have struggled through this change.  It makes me cry!  Sometimes I wish my parents were the ones at every ball game, every school show, every band concert etc.  But then I realize--they have their own life.  They are older.  They didn't even enjoy those events when I was little, why would they want to go now?  Check ins are nice.  My mama still likes to help out.  When we are sick she will run things by the house, like chicken noodle soup, or goodie bags.  She and I can visit and chat about books we are reading, or PBS shows. {Thank God for Masterpiece theater!!}

I had no idea this would happen, but I wish I would have had a head's up.  My grandparents died when I was super young, or before I was born in the case of 3 of them.  My parents never experienced the second adolescence with their own parents.  I do have friend in whom I can confide.  We ask one another, "Are your parents doing this too?"  "have you stopped discussing anything financial with your parents too?  

Over the past six months I have decided to "lean in"  I just accept what is.  I just enjoy them when and how I can.  I am sure they are doing the same.  There is so much love!  My children love them so!  The hugs exchanged between my parents and my children on Sundays might make up for any kind of rich meaningful conversations I might be having with them.  

I will never know those again, however, b/c--well has anyone every heard of a reversal of any kind of adolescence?  Vamos para adelante!  Remembering is what we will do. 

The mom tribe

over the course of being a mother, which is coming up on 13 years now, I have realized that the universe really does have my back.  One manifestation of this blessing is the mom tribe.  Over time I have realized that most of my fellow mothers have my back, and I have theirs.

The mom tribe could be defined as a very loose collection of {friends} who also happen to be moms of children who are around the same age as mine.

The use of the fancy parentheses is special, and deserves an explanation.  {Friends} means--we don't have to be besties.

we don't have to run in the same social circles

go to the same church, 

vote the same way,

buy the same stuff,

have the same amount of money in the bank,

be the same color....

We are moms.  We see eachother, we know what an 8 part day is like, and we are all rocking the title, "mom" the best way we know how.

I see members of my mom tribe at work, at all sporting events, at the dance school, at church, at any social event in our town (parades and such), --even the grocery store, or Wal-Mart when I really need some kind of calming treatment to even survive the trip!

Members of my mom tribe have helped me find social activities for my very shy middle schooler.  I will directly quote this member, as what she said was a gem, "We moms of shy girls have to look out for one another!"  That was when she let me invite my child in on a social gathering.  Even gave her rides to and fro.  

They have selflessly taught my children in bible school during the summer.  Selflessly= a lot of work crafting for the reward that can only be sufficient if it is a heavenly one.

Calmed me down during days when all seems to be unraveling around me and nothing lines up just right (like I thought it would when I left the house at 7:20).

They have been my back-ups at sporting events.  There is one member who my children know is the "go-to"  i.e.--"if I have to leave the pool, who do you find, kids?"  This person knows when my children are supposed to swim in events at swim meets and she will go get them...she has one child, and I have three.

These mothers have spend hours giving me advice that comes in fleeting moments, but just at the right time.    There are so many of them and just recently (as in this week), I have started to refer to us as a mom tribe.  

You see one of the members of my mom tribe passed away last Sunday.  She has one child the same age as my oldest, and one who is around the age of my youngest.  One summer she taught all three of my toddlers in Bible school.  I knew she had cancer.  We talked about her cancer.  I gave her a hug in December when our girls were dancing at a beautiful ballroom class formal dance.  All the grace and beauty of the night led me to know that I needed to hug her that night.  It was momentous for me to see all those beautiful children dancing together....the ones we have watched since pre-school.  I knew it was momentous for her too.  I could feel it.  Thank God I could, and thank God I hugged her.  Her cancer returned, and she told me all about it at the pool at the end of the summer at the pool one day. One of the members of my mom tribe has gone.  Her two girls have the other members of the mom tribe upon whom they can depend, but not their own mama.  When I was walking through the line at the funeral I realized that I really don't even know her husband.  I know his name.  I have seen him at the pool.  I was IN THE LINE!  You know what I said?  I told him, "your wife was a dear member of my mom tribe."  Then my voice cracked.  I also explained the mom tribe to her parents by complimenting their daughter and all her kindness, wisdom, and grace.  

Today, another treasured member of my mom tribe had to totally calm me down and fix a problem when my youngest forgot the delicate dance that is after school activities planning.  I guess she could hear the angst in my voice, and she just fixed it.  The sentence started something like this.."I tell ya what..." and ended with problem solved.  

I am going to start blogging again, b/c over the course of the last month blog posts have been writing themselves in my head and I realize that the only way to honor this is to post it, to write, to {blog}.  Enjoy firends!  I might share of facebook, and i might not.  This has not been determined yet.

My first ever!

I.  am trying to figure out how to get pictures from my phone to post here on my blog.  If I get this figured out my life will be easier Bc I have pictures from everyday on my phone.  So far I am not loving Blogger on my phone..

Christmas Eve 2016

Hello Bloggy friends, if you are still out there!

My blog has been calling to me recently.

There is something missing in my daily and weekly goings on, namely a creative outlet.

My need to write is great.

I write lists all the time, facebook posts to groups I am in, letters to {no one}, but I also need to post here.

When this blog first started I guess blogging was a {thing} to do.  It was  somewhat trendy, and I was going with a trend.

I am also realizing that some things that are trendy just stick with a certain few, and blogging and I might be stuck together.

It is free, it is harmless, it is a way to halfway journal and halfway write creatively...

So, here goes.

Get ready b/c when I have wild ideas, I am going to put them up here!

I am not sure where all of my wild ideas have been going for the past year or so, but they are officially going to be on this blog page as of right now.

Stay tuned friends and acquaintances, and hopefully some new people too!

Summer's here!!

**Update** This one is really old, so I will start from here, but I did not want to leave this little gem out! :)

Hey everyone!!

It is officially Summer time for me!!
My last day of the 2016-17  school year was yesterday, and today I begin the mega clean up/mega laundry wash/exercise regimen....the list goes on!


Here are some summer goodies..we have a big cabbage, we have a volunteer squash plant and some volunteer basil plants in the yard...
Victor planted the cabbage.
We are going to eat it this very week! :)

Now, for some fotos, which I have forgotten how to put up here..

The teeth in my jewelry box

They are there...

sharks' teeth, childrens' teeth, puppy teeth...

I take them out of my pockets. 

It takes effort, they have to be untangled from the pocket lint.

I take them out of beach bags...they could stay right there.

For some reason, at the beach

kids lose teeth.

They could just live in the travel bag, the teeth.

But know, they go into the place where the valuables live.

Today, I put some special sharks' teeth in, and I thought.

All these teeth are in here..and I don't even know

from whence they came.

Does it matter?

When an island becomes a continent

Why is it that when something is good, if it is muy muy grande it becomes even better?

That is so dumb to me!!

One time someone pointed out to me that the sweetest strawberries are actually the old timey original ones that are little...

The giant ones that are so sought after--actually taste like nothing.

They were bred to be very big and red, ....and ....nothing else.

We watch a lot of HGTV in my house.  The main reason is because they are not talking about politics or sex etc.

I just don;t want to see either of those, or the Karshi(whatevers) in my spare time.

Back to big and little.  I am  not sure if my dear bloggy readers remember but I have an island in my kitchen.  It is the size that I can reach across...it is a place to eat, make food, and serve food.

Well lately on HGTV I have noticed that when people want an island they want it to be the size of Texas!!  It is just crazy...and, in my mind, defeats the purpose...

If the island becomes a continent...it is no longer cute.

It is no longer functional...the mama can no longer reach across to serve food to everyone...

WTF...

This goes right back to the {statement} piece of jewelry becoming a speech!!

Cool it, people!

Think about functions of things....and size.. and bigger is not always better!

I think I will post again sooner this time.

This post has been swimming around in my head for six months.

So silly not to post it!

Who's your best friend?

Eva just asked me this question, followed by a choice of two people:

Adriene, or Bon Qui Qui!

Both of these people, by the way, are internet known only to me.  

These are virtual relationships.

Yoga with Adriene is the place where I met my {friend} Adriene.

She is so cute, sweet, bubbly, funny, inspiring, nice --all the good things.

Bon Qui Qui and I go way back--about five years or so, maybe more.

She is a comedian.  Anjelah Johnson.

When I need to laugh my head off  real hard, I find Bon Qui Qui--or Qui Qui for short! LOL!

This question was a cute one to me, and one that could not have been asked--even ten years ago probably, b/c back then I bet most mommies did not have internet besties!

I am sure glad I do, as these two ladies bring happiness to my life in simple ways.

If you have not checked them out, please do!

I bet you will love them too.

Happy New Year to you and {yours} (both real and virtual).                                         

The craziest Sh!t I have ever heard {Merry Christmas}

Like most of you, I have been on Amazon shopping for everything that {santa} will bring this year to all kinds of lovely people in my life.  At one point I had ordered so many things I had to stop and make a list (even though I can look at my account history right there on Amazon! LOL).  Anywho...I ordered several things for myself.  These were things I have been wanting that happened to be deeply discounted during the frenzy that is Christmas shopping.  All of the stuff I order from Amazon likes to go to my Mama and Daddy's house, and it is stuck in my maiden name.  Amazon is now so old that the first order I made from there happened in my senior year of college when I was scrambling to design a unit for student teaching.  This makes me feel old.  BUT, I digress...

It is good that the stuff goes to my Mama's b/c then the kids don't look at all of it right away at least.  

Last Wednesday I had to go to my Mama's for a visit and to check out all the purchases that were continually arriving at her house.  She  was amused, I must say, as I opened all of the boxes.  One oof them contained both things I ordered for myself!  One was an instantpot! and the other was a car vacuum.  Both of these are items I highly recommend.  Get ready for the crazy part...

My Mama asked me:  Are you going to wrap that up for yourself?  But she said it in a more of am imperative tone of voice...like she was heavily suggesting that I wrap this giant pot up for myself.  

ughhh.. "no,"  I said, "I am going to pop it right into my car, and I am going to cook some lentils in it this weekend!"  :)  I said this in a cheery tone of voice b/c you don't smart mouth, or smart tone my Mama. 

We had a brief discussion about how silly that would be...but then we got into other conversations, b/c I just kept opening boxes.

The next day at school I decided to take an official poll...I was going to ask people from a wide variety of backgrounds (younger, older, black, white, hispanic, weathy, broke as hell etc.) if they do this strange thing I will call, "self gifting."  Before I even started I had a hunch that this was something that only those of us with the XX chromosomes would EVER dream of doing.  It reeks of ...shit, I don't even know a word..but I will describe it...

Just in case all of the people in my house--who I take care of everyday--are so shitty and unthoughtful that they do not give me a present, I am going to SAVE THEM THE EMBARRASSMENT of being so thoughtless and selfish, that i am going to take time out and wrap up something for myself!!! 

WTF??

Let me tell you, all the women I polled said, "oh sure!" --cue the very confused, {do I actually have the XY combo} face...???

What!!!??

One was Mrs. Bailey.  She is an older black lady--probably my dad's age.  She has taught school since I was a little girl, but she is tech savvy and all that.  I enjoy visiting with her whenever she substitutes.  She chuckled and said, "oh yeah..."  Then she explained...if you don't you might not get anything..

Next was Emily, who is about three or four years younger than me.  She is a teacher.  She said...oh, yeah..I wrap up a couple and then if I see that my husband has brought something home, I go ahead and open them early...

Then came several other teachers who I asked...and they all said yes.  They buy something they like (with their own money that they work for every day) and then they wrap the item up and put it under the tree.

Y'all this is crazy as hell.  I am calling it out.  If someone can't buy me a present...then I don't even want one.  If I work, and go and buy myself something...I am going to use it when it comes..that is not a present!! 

The only part of the polling that i have neglected is the part where I ask men this...

oh yeah..I wonder how many men folks do some crazy thing like this...

By the way, I wrapped the stuff Saturday and put it under the tree--it says from "Santa" on it, which my kids think is a hoot...

I told them he already had to come and drop their stuff off...they said, "mama, how come it is your handwriting?"  I said, "b/c Santa told me to write that on there...duh"  I have so much fun with being the imaginary creatures..I just make it up as I go along...the Amazon warehouse is where Santa lives--and the UPS truck is a sleigh....It is just as good as any of the other stories...

Merry Christmas to all, and all you lady friends out there...go out and buy yourself something real nice, and DON'T WRAP IT UP!! buy it b/c it is on a good sale, and use it immediately!! 

December party {a Wishington post}

Suzanne and Randy began to realize that their friendships in Wishington were needing constant re-evaluation, and Suzanne was truly wondering WTF, as this was beginning to seem pretty much like middle school. 

For example, one of the years in December they were invited to the 40th birthday party of the husband of Boarding school friend.

Randy and Rick Richard McRichardson V were really not that great friends, but really, guys tend to be be at leat friendly with most others.  So, Randy and Suzanne decided, why not head over to celebrate.

Mind you, they had to head over to a {farm} that was at least an hour away.  Suzanne called the {friend} to let her know they would be attending.  (RSVP).

Friend had a note of surprise in her voice, but Suzanne brushed it off.  They were  excited to have a date night, a night to hang out and socialize, and to help celebrate Rick's turning 40.  Suzanne was a firm believer that if someone invited you to a birthday party, in particular, it was rude not to go and help them celebrate (you were important enough to that person so they wanted you to be there so they invited you etc.)

Off they headed.  

Boarding school girl had told Suzanne that she and about four other girls were all going together with a driver ...Suzanne thought nothing of it.

When they arrived at the party everything was fun enough.  There were tons of people to talk to, cool places to be, lots of yummy food etc.

Theree came a critical moment when they had to decide...are we staying for the night, or going.  Suzanne and Randy decided to stay b/c they were having fun still and there was a crowd.  Then at around sometime ...who knows what time it was...Suzanne noticed there were no other women ANYWHERE!!  At the WHOLE place.  Had she missed a critical memo???

Not only were the five moms with the driver gone...all the other women were gone too!

Suzanne and Randy sat around for a while, slept on some couches for a while, and then around two AM, Randy decided they would get the hell out of there.  

Thank God for Randy!! --That is what Suzanne was thinking..

Otherwise she did not know what to think...

The wishington social scene had her totally baffled!

The day Dumbledore died

My oldest two and I have been reading all of the Harry Potter books together over the course of 2015. It started out b/c I was curious.  This series of books fell past my childhood reading, and for that matter, college reading phase.  So I missed it.  When Elena began to be curious about Harry Potter we decided that I would read them aloud to both Elena and Victor.  And thus, the Harry Potter Club was formed!

We have read and read and read...these books have been so fun to read aloud!  After I read them, Victor read the first two on his own.  Book five was a freakin night mare...it was not very good, and it was very long.  Somewhere along the way I read a spoiler alert that Snape was going to kill Dumbledore...so I knew it was coming.  I thought it would happen in book five--but it did not, so then I thought maybe that report had been false.... (fingers crossed).  

Book six totally redeemed the series!! It was fabulous!  BUT --as Elena and Victor and I lay reading the other night, the spoiler began to reveal itself as truth.  I could tell it was going to happen...

AND IT DID.  When Dumbledore died we all cried...I was crying so I could hardly read, Elena and Victor were both beside me crying (Eva was lying on top of me asleep).  We had to stop reading before we could read about the funeral.  The next day I had a work day at work and I had the best day.  I listened to the radio and just worked away, checking off my workday list.  Then, at the end of the day, a little gloomy cloud settled itself right over my psyche...when I got home Andy and I were talking and we both decided that this happened b/c Dumbledore had died!  We had become very attached to Dumbledore.  We watched the movie last night (we only watch the movie after we have read the book), and the part where Dumbledore was killed by Snape was not even sad...nope!  

After book seven (the last one) our Harry Potter club will end.  It has been so fun to have these books to read to them on nights when Andy has to work.  TV  basically sucks--we either have to watch Disney shows together, or there is a murder show on....or football.  So, I guess we will have to find another series of books to read. 

My personal {flair}

The house itself is bare!  One might try to disguise this as minimalism.  I however, just neglect to decorate.  I have wreaths which I could put on the door, and some years I do.  This year, however, I have not hung a single wreath.  I like to keep the neighbors guessing!  "Wiill she or won't she bring out the seasonal wreath?" 

If you look very carefully here--like with the eye of an archaeologist, you might discern an old flower bed.  There are rocks in a circle...I bet, at one point, there were flowers here..some azaleas or something! :)  There used to be a tree too, apparently.  Now, we just need to rake it out.  If we wait patiently was are going to have a pine tree there eventually.  Hey baby tree!  One  or two of the rocks in the circle is a giant piece of coral fossil.  It is very cool.  The gravel around here comes from a mine where they mine phosphate. They have to mine below with level of the Castlehayne aquafer.  The ocean used to be where we are, so there are bunches of sharks' teeth, and hunks of coral fossils.

This is a pile of pine straw, which I will be raking up Thanksgiving day...it is driving me crazy, but I will say...it does just scream, "fall!!"  And, if you look in the picture below, you can see another pile.  That one is leaves.  There are pecan and oak trees all over the yard...so we have leaves galore!  That pile will also soon be removed.  So, maybe after three posts, I have made one point.  Flair eludes me.  The older I get, it even eludes me in my clothes.  Should I just claim to be a minimalist?  That claim, to me, implies a choice.  Am I making a choice to be {flairless}, or is it just by default.  I refuse to say that it is lazy...b/c my lack of flair comes from a lack of care, really.  Where do you place yourself?  In the flair camp, or the non-flair camp, or do you actively claim to be a minimalist?  

Flair

Can you see all the flair on my neighbor's house?  She has these cute potted plants and there are always lights on them, that light up at night!! It amazes me!

It is so pretty.

So glad she does it, b/c my house....

Stay tuned.  LOL