Halloween Leftovers

Does anyone else have leftover goodies from Halloween? Notice there's never any leftover chocolate? I only have one official Trick-or-Treater now. This is Mimi the Diva. In other words she dressed as herself this year. It's all about me, me, me! It's hard being the baby of the family.
We had a little party at Randy and Kari's house. I loved the metallic bronze eyelashes that were discarded halfway through the night. I'm sure the reflected light had something to do with that. And, yes, they are as fun as they look.

We laughed and laughed and laughed. We laughed so hard our cheeks hurt, our sides hurt, our heads hurt, we were coughing, sputtering, hooting, howling, crying, snorting, breaking chairs, nearly wetting ourselves, and almost passing out from the lack of oxygen! Our kids were begging us to stop! And that, folks, is not an exaggeration. We were drunk on laughter. This is Ricky and Dianne.

This is me and my dear husband, Jared, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. I also dressed as myself this year. I already have next year's costumes planned.

The kids need leftover candy so we can steal it to give us energy for the Christmas shopping the next day. Did you hear they were trying to change Black Friday? (Linked up for my foreign friends that might not know what that is, since you totally miss out on Thanksgiving altogether.) I don't shop early on Black Friday. I don't like to see the ugly side of people. I think it's a taste of what it will be like when/if we have a world economic collapse.

So....coming up - my daughter Ali is performing in her high school musical - Opening Night Tuesday night, Nov 16th. She is Sandy in "Grease". It was meant to be her part - she was BORN in Australia, you know! She was speaking Australian up until she was three and a half. Seth spoke with an accent until he was about six. People would ask him how old he was and he would answer, "Fahv and a Hawf." I'll try to post some more in the next few days. Lots happening!

Spooky Stuff

First, I'll start with a horrific story. I ran into an old classmate at a high school get-together. Some losers never change. He was drunk and obnoxious and he even tried to sexually harass me. I was seriously traumatized.

I've been decorating for the season. This is my new favorite decoration. I got it at Just A Bed Of Roses. It's the funnest store ever!

I made this lovely creation for a family get together. It was a big hit.

Dumpster Cake

3/4 cup heavy cream

1 1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

1 tsp. pure vanilla

Heat cream until boiling, stirring constantly. Pour over chocolate chips. Stir until completely melted and add vanilla. Put in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes.

1 Chocolate Cake mix

Follow directions on the box and put mix in a bundt pan. Drop spoonfuls of the chocolate chip mixture in the batter - reserving 1/4 cup. This will create a "lava" filling. Bake according to directions. Remove from pan immediately (flip onto a serving platter).

1 large vanilla instant pudding mix

1 small chocolate instant pudding mix

Green food coloring

Make up puddings. Add green coloring to half of the vanilla pudding. When cake is cool drizzle puddings and reserved chocolate (reheated) and decorate with gummy worms, candy corns, Reese's pieces and anything else you like - that will look gross. (Gummy Rats, Body parts, etc.)

BEWARE! It is very yummy!

Getting Back to "Normal"

I'm waiting for my life to get back to normal. I've had another absence again, but with good reason. My dear step dad passed away on September 17th. Art has been my step dad for 25 years. Even when a person is considered elderly, even when their health is failing, I still don't think you are ready for it. He was "terrible good" until the end.

The Patriot Guard Riders escorted us to the cemetery on their motorcycles and saluted Art, an army veteran and a Harley Davidson rider when he could ride. They made a path to his final resting place, while his grandsons carried him in the casket he made himself.

There's a lot of deep thinking when someone close to you passes away. It's as if everything has paused for you but life is still running in fast motion for everyone else. You contemplate what is really important and realize there are many things that force you to lose focus on them - like work, school, and fatigue.

I've been thinking a lot about these things. Not the fatigue part but the work and school part. This posting has been so serious - not like me. I'm trying to get back to normal. These things help me:
This is Ali with her friend Rob before their Homecoming Dance.
This is me and Holly in the back, KyAnn, Jackie, Lisa and Shauna in the front. We had a Girls' Night Out and ate at an Italian restaurant and talked about blogging. It was nice to get out and laugh with some of the funniest and nicest "girls" on the planet.

Okay, now that I got you caught up, I can't leave you without a funny story. I was shopping in my second home, aka Wal-Mart, when an elderly lady asks me if I knew the store very well. I know the store better than I should and she asked me where the tampons and Kotex would be. I told her they were on the other side of the pharmacy on the right. She turns to her husband and says, "See Harold. I was close but no cigar." Don't worry, I didn't laugh out loud.

Bloggin' BFFs and a Bathroom Story

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to meet a good friend of mine. Yeah, she is my good friend but we had never actually met! We went to lunch had a great time eating salads, talking, laughing, laughing some more, and we even had cheesecake under peer pressure. You know, "I'll have a piece if you do," and "I'll have a piece if you don't tell anyone I ate the whole thing by myself and licked my plate in public."

This is Lisa from Blue and Shoe, KyAnn from Checketts-Myers Clan and this is a rare photo of me. You know how much I love to get my photo taken. Lisa and KyAnn, you may notice a little Photoshop enhancement, erasing of any food particles still left on our face, removal of double chins and I gave myself a breast augmentation. Eh hem. There's only so much you can do in Photoshop when you start with a picture from a cheap camera with bad restaurant lighting.

I missed the other "Blog Friends" get together that KyAnn got to go to because I go to school on Thursday nights. I'm considering changing my night to Monday night. It seems I am missing a lot of things on Thursdays. I cried on Sunday because I'm missing Mimi's "Back-to-School" Fashion Show with the church activity days for girls age 8-11.

On another note, we had an emergency here tonight. For friends on Facebook who watched the drama unfold, you know I can't pass up a good toilet story. I will spare you the photos for this one......and I actually spared myself. There are no photos. It was almost as bad as this time.

Ali came upstairs and complained that the toilet was clogged in the basement. Jared went down and checked it out. He then proceeded to yell at Seth who I guess didn't feel like doing anything about it. I was upstairs in my room listening to the yelling that went on for about ten minutes. I found it a little humorous that they were having such a huge fight over a clogged toilet. We all know, Dr. Phil, that it's not about the clogged toilet. It's about the owner of the "problem" that won't accept responsibility. It's about adding more fiber to some one's food.

Then Ali tells me it's been like that since Sunday. That is wrong on so many levels. But I thought it was kind of funny. So my husband had to run to the hardware store to buy a "power plunger." This was one stubborn obstruction. Jared said he was going to go back to the hardware store to buy a snake. Mimi thought she was going to get a new pet. I downloaded a video so you can learn to use a Plumber's Snake, not a Toilet Snake like I was calling it. The toilet snake may be part of the problem. I was hoping to see more action in this video. I'm thinking when Jared uses the toilet snake I better get it on video. Maybe I'll even have a go with this little beauty!

Anyway, you can call off the exorcism now. Satan has fallen out of someone's bottom.

10 Useless Bits of Info

My sweet friend Holly at Diamond Potential gave me this sweeeet award. I accept it most humbly and graciously. I met Holly at CBC and it was great to meet her and develop a new friend. With this award you must:

1. Thank the person that gave you the award.

2. Share 10 things about yourself.

3. Pass this award to 10 bloggers you have recently discovered and think are fantastic.

4. Contact the bloggers and let them know you picked them for the award.

So here is ten useless pieces of information about me that you could care less about!

1. My favorite song at the moment is "If We Ever Meet Again" by Timbaland and Katy Perry.

2. I am an artist and I believe in the psychology of color. I believe in surrounding yourself and wearing colors that make you happy. If you feel a little blue, wear a color that you love, that you get a million compliments in, that you feel beautiful in. I decorate my house in bright colors and go against the popular taupe and brown decor. I think your house should reflect who you are and if you are like everyone else then......go for it.

3. My favorite color is PINK. There's not enough of pink in this world.

4. I love to entertain. We have a New Year's Party every year (you're invited - it's open invitation) and try to do a "How to Host a Murder" at least once a year. Many spontaneous game nights and dinners out. I also like to be invited to other people's houses so I don't have to clean mine!

5. I like to put on foreign accents. I especially like to put on accents when I'm going through drive-thru restaurants. I know it's demented, but I find humor in putting on a heavy Asian or Hispanic accent to see this innocent, professional looking, matronly woman paying for my "bee-skeet" (that would be a Carl's Jr. biscuit) with my coworker in the car. Blink, blink. And BTW McDonald's, don't forget my Madam Alexander toy or I will be back. You know how important they are to the kids. Blink, blink.

6. I used to be like Martha Stewart. I can cook or sew or make just about anything. But why? I'm more like Betty Crocker now, open the box, add eggs and bake. Hopefully the eggs haven't been in the fridge for six months.

7. I have a few foreign habits. I lived in England for 18 months where I had to adapt to eating with my fork in my left hand and knife in my right hand. I lived in Australia for seven years where I learned that "damn" and "hell" aren't swear words - even in church (which is also the case in England). Having an Australian husband for 21 years seals the deal - you're going to hear those words at our house. But you won't hear the word "bloody" used as a swear word, because it is cursing the blood of Christ. Now that you know, you have to quit saying it.

8. I'm really insecure. Should I have told you that? I try not to re-read my stuff to much or it would never get posted. I hate having my photo taken. I worry that people think I'm fat, ugly, unintelligent, weird or not righteous enough because I say "damn" and "hell".

9. I can belch like a teenage boy. Goodbye dear readers. It was nice knowing you. Don't worry, I save that for my immediate family and my children's dates. Who needs a gun collection? Should I have told you that?

10. It has taken me two months to compile this list. Holly probably forgot she passed this on by now. No - I just can't think of ten things to say about myself. Hmmmm. I just made that belching thing up. I like singing and have fun singing karaoke with friends and Ali. It's awesome therapy.

I'm breaking the rules because it will take me another two months to pick 10 bloggers and contact them. So......CONSIDER YOURSELF AWARDED!

The Bull That Started It

Cheeseboy, you may want to skip this one. Your wife, however, may enjoy this.

Saturday night Mimi said, "Mom, I saw a commercial on TV and there was this bull thing that you ride with a diaper thing on it. But it wasn't a diaper. What was that thing?"

I tried to play dumb. "What? Like a saddle?"

"No. It was white and it was shaped like it would go on your underwear. Like it would fit between your legs. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh. Yeah. That's something that you use when you are a teenager."

"Well, I saw some at Laurie's house."

"Her teenage sisters probably use them."

"Well, what are they?" she asked.

"It's not something I can't tell you about in just a couple of minutes. We'll have a talk about it tomorrow after church," I'm thinking she'll forget about it by then.

Here's the commercial that caused the premature maturation conversation:

As soon as church was over she threw herself on the couch next to me. "Remember we were going to have that talk?"

So, this is my baby girl, she is only ten years old. She still sleeps with a teddy bear and wants to sit on your lap. She doesn't like boys yet and still likes dolls. Maturation Class isn't until the end of 5th grade. We are not ready for this.

"Those white things are called pads. Usually girls use them when they're teenagers or almost teenagers. You know how ladies are the only ones to have babies?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, inside our bodies is this little nest kind of thing and then the baby comes out of this tube. The nest is about the size of your fist and it's right above your bone right here." I drew her a cartoon of a lady with a cartoon reproductive system. "There's eggs in these little egg sacks and every month they take turns sending an egg to the nest. Our body gets ready to have a baby and if we don't have a baby, then our body has to get rid of the egg. So this stuff comes out of the tube every month for about 3-5 days and it's called a period. It's kind of like bloody snot. That's what we use those pads for."

"Ew."

She was very attentive, it wasn't too medical, I didn't giggle once and I don't think I freaked her out. She was so cute and smiling as we talked and I drew pictures. Thank goodness she didn't ask how the baby got in there.

"So why was there one on that bull?" That's what I want to know.

Lessons From Drama

So, I told you about my sucky letter that I got on Saturday. I was a bit emotional about that on the weekend but I'm good now. Just had to get it out of my system. I'm still a little bitter. I could spew out some sarcasm, I'm sure.

Saturday, as I sat at my desk and cried, my wonderful 17 year old daughter Ali walked in and asked me what was wrong. I told her I didn't even get an interview for the position at her school that I really wanted. I had told her about it before and she thought it would be cool if I got a job at her school. I told her they probably had someone in mind for the job already.

My precious daughter put her arms around me and said, "It's okay, Mom. In theater we learn that sometimes people are already picked out for parts. And even when you do your best and you try out for a part and you don't get it, it doesn't mean you weren't good enough. It just means the part was already given to someone else. There's nothing you could have done to change it. You're still a good actor and there will be other parts."

Really? Is she mine? How did I get a daughter so wonderful? My 19 year old son, Seth, came in and hugged me and said, "I love you, Mom." Mimi just came in and hugged me. My husband of course, said everything right and encouraged me. The dog reminded me that there was still ball to play and sometimes it gets stuck under the couch and you need someone to get it for you. There's a deep analogy there for you. My true friends have dived under the couch for me this week.

I'm feeling the pressure of improving my skills so I am not at the bottom of the totem pole but schooling is really taking a big bite out of my time. I love studying graphic design but it sure is hard having much energy for anything much after that. So I'm trying to decide if I need to cut to one day a week of school or what. That was another reason I was looking forward to having summers off, so I could fill in some more time with school. Well, I'll keep reading my fortune cookies and see what life has in store for me. Any advice?

When Politics Attack

Today I got a rejection letter. It really sucks. I applied for a job that I thought I would be really good at. It would have been a secretarial position for a liaison between the community college (that I just so happen to attend as a student already) and our high school, that my daughter attends. It was open to school district employees only. I didn't even get an interview. I'm sure the job was handed on a platter to some one that they already had picked out, which is the way things work. I've been a volunteer and an employee with our school district long enough to know these things. By law they have to open the position for interviews. At least I didn't have to waste my vacation time interviewing for a position that wasn't really available.

I can remember my Mission President waving his pointing finger, and saying in his high pitched, aged voice, "Elders and Sisters, it's not what you know, it's who you know."

I don't know why I'm so upset about it knowing the way things work, except that I was dreaming about having summers off, planning my liposuction next summer, recuperating in Cabo San Lucas with virgin Pina Coladas.

I Got Trump Fever

You know, even as a teenager I've never been one to get star struck. I think I was more star struck by the uber popular kids at school. I think I still get more star struck when the Bishop at my church says hello to me. Maybe that's just guilt. Once again, clearing the phlegm from my ever clogged throat.

So maybe that's why I don't get why girls go crazy over Justin Beiber. He sings like a girl. Like a girl singing about girls. I remember the first time I heard "She's Out of My Life" by Michael Jackson when I was in eighth grade and the song left me confused why a woman would be sad that another woman would be out of her life. That's before gay people were invented (in my world, anyway) and now it would make total sense. But it really bugged me back then. Kind of like trying to understand negative numbers and infinity and beyond now. Don't think about it, don't think about it. It kind of bugs me that he's from Canada and he speaks like he's been born and raised in the trailer parks of Mississippi. Canada - be offended! Tell him to speak properly and stop trying to talk like a Yankee hick subculture!

Then there is the hair that reminded me of someone who is much, much older.

So I decided to do a little makeover with my newly found Photoshop skills. Who would have known that The Donald was so incredibly handsome? I'm totally seeing it now. And I haven't even seen his credit cards! So, what do you think? Trump Fever? I think Justin should be fired. We should wait a couple of years until his voice cracks and then judge his singing. Too girly for now. I guess that's not a problem when you're twelve.

Side Effects

This blog is supposed to be my humorous blog, right? Where my motto is "finding humor in everyday life." Notice a brief absence? No.....not the absence of my briefs.....eh hem. I don't know if I ever mentioned in my blog that I suffer with headaches. I try not to whine. This is almost a daily occurrence and it really sucks. So how can I find humor in the fact that my head feels like it is hanging on by a tendon at times? Where is the humor in the back of my head splitting open and an alien creature crawling out? Okay - that is funny stuff!

So, I've been trying to get a handle on these things that I have adapted to as everyday life and can fake my way through it pretty good. It's usually when I mention something about a meat hook that gives it away that I'm feeling pretty crappy. But I can still make a joke. Can someone just pick my head up and place it back on my shoulders?

I usually start the day out with Excedrin. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. If it doesn't, I wait until lunch time and I take half of a 10 mg. Lortab, which is 5mg. with less acetaminophen than taking a 5 mg. Lortab. I've been to chiropractors, physical therapists, I have a deep tissue massage once a week at the moment.

Lately, I've been seeing a neurologist. He's put me on this drug called Topamax. I was really excited to find out that one of the side effects was weight loss. Woo freakin' hoo! I didn't know he was talking about the weight of my head when everyone thinks I've lost it. Scatterbrainedness is one of the symptoms. I think it was worded something like concentration/attention and something about recall. No one has noticed any difference.

Taste change is another side effect. Which explains why my long term relationship with Diet Coke has ended. I just can't stand the taste of the artificial sweeteners. I meant to give that up anyway. It was a toxic relationship. But all of a sudden I can't stand the smell of my desk drawer at work, either.

Then there is the fatigue and feeling lethargic, tiredness, drowsiness, do not operate heavy machinery-ness, mood changes, depression, suicidal thoughts. So, I'm feeling really suicidal but I'm too tired to carry it out.

And one of the last side effects of Topamax is headaches. So, how am I supposed to know if I'm getting headaches from the Topamax?

Magic Mimi

This story kind of reminds me the old cartoon, "Hey! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!" "RAWR!" What I'd really like to see is Obama pull all those promises out of his - but this isn't one of those kind of blogs.
I have a ten year old daughter who knows magic. Yep. She goes by the stage name of "Magic Mimi." If you were ever wondering, her real name is Amelia and her toddler version of her name was "Mimi", so it stuck.

Trick Number 1: When her grandpa was staying with us a few weeks ago she decided to show him some of her magic card tricks. She had her stack of cards (a very short, suspicious stack of cards) and fanned them out and told Grandpa to pick a card. He drew one from the deck and looked at it and put it face down.

"Make sure you memorize it," she said.

He looked at it again, "Okay."

"Concentrate real hard and don't forget your card," she says in all seriousness.

He cackles, looks at his card to humor her and says, "Okay. I think I have it memorized now."

"Now place it back in the deck."

Grandpa, who's played this card trick one too many times in his life does the old switcheroo. "Okay, close your eyes." She closes her eyes. He places his card in the deck. She then straightens the deck.

"Let me go get my magic wand." She then runs to the other room and returns with.........a glow stick! She taps the deck three times and starts rummaging through the cards carefully in one direction, then in the other direction. She straightens the deck again. She gets the magic wand again and taps the deck a little harder this time, three times, and does the same thing again. She's looking a little panicked now. She straightens the deck again and this time beats the deck with the wand three times and says, "I don't know what's wrong with this magic wand!" She looks through the deck again and she finally says, "Hey! Did you trick me?"

Trick Number 2: Mimi laid out 12 cards face down on the floor and told Grandpa to memorize his card. She mixed them all around and tapped each card with the "magic wand" once and then went back and tapped each card in rhythm three times. It was like watching a ritual. Then she went back to tapping each card once again when I finally said, "Okay, Mimi!" She stopped (got the message, the build up was too much.) Then she pulled a card up from the display and said, "Was this your card, Grandpa?"

He said, "I don't know, you never showed me the card in the first place."

In which we all burst out laughing and she said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot."

There's real potential there, I know. She knows how to capture an audience, admit when her wand is freakin' broken (happens all the time) and adds humor. We're bookin' her for parties now, so book early.

A Buffet for Anorexics

When I was in high school, anorexia seemed to be the new awareness (besides herpes, Quaaludes and AIDS). In fact, people used to ask me if I had anorexia and I wish, oh how I wish someone would just ask me that for old time's sake. I do have an eating disorder but I think it might have to do with the love of cheesecake and all things chocolate.

I remember learning that anorexics (is that a politically correct term?) eating challenged people are excellent cooks and enjoy cooking for other people. I have a cookbook full of recipes from a church that a known eating challenged person contributed many recipes such as "World's Best Brownies" and many other succulent choices. I can guarantee she offered thee best recipes.

I liken this story to an experience I had a couple of months ago when I went to a blogger's conference. It was exciting to meet many other bloggers, some I only knew by commenting on each other's blogs. It was nice to meet some real live people and see if they were as funny in person (and some were even funnier) as they were in their blogs. The funny thing is, this was like a buffet for anorexics. There were a lot of great people with a lot of good things to offer, but no one wanted to really eat. They wanted everyone to eat what they brought. I visited a few sites of cards I picked up and left comments and do you think they even visited me back? Nope. They have Blogger's Anorexia offering you their Sugar Cookies or maybe the dreaded Casserole.

Do you like my first attempt at my new found skills at Photoshop? I only merged two pictures and covered up Lindsay Lohan's breast, though you would have mistaken it for a displaced elbow, but anyway. She has seen better days.

So my last post I kinda critiqued some blogs that were featured on a comment support group called SITS. Some of you thought I might be talking about you, so I thought I would clear some things up. If I read your blog - I WASN'T TALKING ABOUT YOU! I don't read out of obligation because I'm sorry to say I'm too darned busy for that. If I had my choice I would be independently wealthy and I would read blogs all day long and they would inspire me to write my own blogs and I would have a fulfilled life of laughter and warm fuzzies all day long. But I have to work and because I have to work I need to improve my skills which leads me to going to school part time which leads me to this insanity which I have cut down to blogging once a week about.

If you are a daily blogger, I apologize that I don't visit everyday, but if you have something extra terrifically wonderful that you would like me to read because you know I would thoroughly enjoy it, make sure you send me the link, so I don't miss it.

I haven't been very good at being organized, so I try to visit my commenters' blogs as soon as I get a minute. If anyone has any good tips on keeping organized - let me know. But I'm not about to indulge at a buffet if someone isn't going to enjoy it with me!

Support My Cause

I belong to a "comment support group" called SITS. It introduces you to blogs of all sorts and I mean all sorts! Exclamation point! It stands for the "Secret Is in The Sauce." I have found some very OFFENSIVE blogs - the kind that drop the "F" bomb and use the Lord's name in vain. I have found some crafty blogs - which I'm so anti-craft. If it looks handmade, it's because my ten year old made it. Like this gorgeous craft.

It's amazing what you can do with a covered dog food can, paper towels, skewers, paper, glue sticks and crayons. I love this craft. But this is the only craft.

I have found some newlywed bloggers, nearly dead bloggers, newly divorced bloggers, and some very ....oh....'scuze me..... ho .... oh..... ho hum bloggers. Lots of mediocracy. I have also noticed a lot of "cause" bloggers. "This Blogger Has a Rare Disease" and you go to their blog and realize you have nothing in common with 27 bottles of prescriptions, shouting profanities when they're nervous and adult size diapers. Not that I don't feel bad about their disease, but I don't really want to read about that every week (or every day). Which brings me to my cause. I don't talk about it often because I don't want my condition to define me.

Very few people tolerate my condition. I am a blonde. I was born this way. My hair slowly started to darken as I aged, but I decided to be proud of my true color and stopped trying to hide my condition. People that know me, love me for who I am, and when I see someone dressed exactly like me in public and feel a slight embarrassment just to realize it is my own reflection in a window, it is okay. BTW, that really happened. I'm just so glad I didn't say anything out loud to the group of friends I was with. But I kept looking at her, she kept looking at me - yeah. We noticed we were both wearing the same thing.

So back to "Comment Support" groups, you know what I noticed? On their "Feature Day" they gain like 250 followers in one day! But being the procrastinator - well - busy person really - that I am, I visit a few days late and I notice that they are back to five comments. Why?

You know what, I'm gonna resign from SITS. I'm gonna start my own "comment support group" called PITS. "People I Try Stoppingbytoread-andleaveaclevercommentwheneverIgetaspareminute-betweenworkingfulltimeandschoolparttime-andrunningchildrentotheERforconcussionsafterfallingoffatireswing."

It does have a nice ring to it don't you think?

Adverbs and Butts

Today I played "Mad Libs" with two ten year olds. First, I had to find out what an adverb was. I knew it had something to do with verbs, but whatever. And who remembers what a predicate is? Useless stuff we learn in elementary just to forget when we're old and we need to prove to our ten year old that we're smart. I do remember the important life-changing stuff like the life-cycle of a caterpillar.

Mimi and her BFF didn't have a problem with nouns. Especially with using "butt" or "butt cheeks" or "butt crack" and speaking of lines, I had to draw the line at "butt hole." Then there were "boogers" and "poo". I tried to set a good example of words that didn't come from the bathroom. Yeah, right. Our stories were hilarious and the less they made sense the funnier the girls thought they were.

We love games at my house. Seth will bring his friends home and beg me to play "Scattergories" with them. It becomes very competitive. Friendly debates erupt because I have had 20 more years or more of life experience to increase my vast vocabulary. Even with teenage boys, I have to draw the line and tell a few of them to keep it clean. (Boys are so vile sometimes.) There have been challenges for words that we have the Internet ready to Google and some have even lost money. There was Cordon's word that started with a "D" that was an animal. We challenged the two point word "dik dik". Sure enough, there is a dik dik.
For toiletries/cosmetics and with the letter "S" I wrote down "sanitary napkin" as my answer. I was challenged by five teen aged boys. "That doesn't make sense." "Sanitary is a description, it's not part of the word." I told them to call their mothers. We looked it up and sure enough - there was a photo of a sanitary sanitary napkin. They were still murmuring as I gave myself a point.

When Vacuums Attack

There it is, looking innocent enough. But heed my warning.....it is an accident waiting to happen. Just like owning a pit bull, you'll never know if it will return to it's natural fighting instincts, jaws meant for locking down on the enemy. This is my Dyson Animal vacuum, aka the Dyson Pit Bull.
It's not like it was neglected. I took it out for a venture every once in awhile. Keeping it on it's leash - when it happened. It turned on me. As I was adjusting the bottom of it, the handle dropped down on my foot. You know the thing you wrap the cord around? Hit me right on the top of my instep. This is the freak attack we all fear and this is how it left me maimed and swearing. Actually, I didn't swear at all but I rolled around on the floor wailing for awhile.

Later that day, my true colors shone through. Shades of purple, pink and blue. That was one week ago. Today, it is blue, green and the purple now spreads halfway down my toes. I now have two insteps on my left foot. I went to the doctor three days after the accident and it was a little bit broken. Just the tip is kind of chipped. He gave me a pretty shoe but after four days I quit wearing it. It Velcros across the top and made it ache all day.

Vacuums are not our friends. They are dangerous species waiting to turn on you. No matter how pretty they look - beware. Because of this attack, I cannot even look at another vacuum without shaking and crying. I now have suck-a-phobia.

Surprise Rosebuds

When I was in the bath the other day I was surprised to see.......rosebuds! Not those kind. If we were talking about those kind I would be mentioning the hanging baskets. A coworker gave us some nice homemade bath salts and I knew they had lavender buds in them, but not rosebuds.

Speaking of surprise rosebuds, Mimi once again reminded me that she needed a bra. She said, "Maybe you could take me and I could at least try some on. And then you could go back when I'm not with you and buy it, so they won't know it's for me."

I laugh, "Okay."

"So what size do you think I wear?" she asks.

"I don't know, maybe the same size as me," I say teasingly.

She looks at my chest, as if she hasn't seen it lately, and pulls her head back and says, "Nah uh."

So I guess I'll get one of those little halter thingies to help train her......rosebuds. Have you ever wondered why they call them training bras? What do you train them to do? Sit up pretty? Play dead? Dance? Mine only lay down.

When I Get Time

When I get time, I'm going to tell you all about my wonderful husband, who just had a birthday. And I'm going to post a picture of him. But it has to be perfect, so I haven't had the chance to do it yet.

When I get time, I'm going to tell you that I broke my foot by a freak vacuuming accident. I'll post pictures about that, too. And when I get time I'll tell you I hired a cute gal to clean my house, because it's way to risky for me.

Speaking of risks, when I get time I'm going to share my opinion about people who take risks and expect others to risk their lives to rescue them. Stupid, stupid, irresponsible people.

And when I get time, I'm going to tell you how one of my biggest peeves in life is death - well, when people say, "He died doing what he loved the most." How do you know he didn't really like living and he's really peeved that he did something so stupid and now he's dead? If I choke on cheesecake, please do not resuscitate. I'm just giving you permission now to let me die doing what I love the most.

And when I get time, I'll tell you that my dad just moved in with us and we weren't expecting him for another week and that's why I was vacuuming when it attacked me.

And when I get time, I'll post a picture of my hubby in a Speedo when we were dating because that was the style in Australia. And when I get time I'll tell you I could barely look at him in his Speedo because.....no time to explain that.

And when I get time, I'll tell you it's our 21st Anniversary this Sunday and tell you how he has become the perfect man and I'm so glad we've made it over some hurdles.

And when I get time, I'm going to read your blog from the very beginning so I know why your blog is named what it is, or just because I like to laugh for that long. And now that I have a broken foot, I can't go walking and I need my abs exercised.

And when I get time I'm going to tell you my opinion about how I thought slavery was banned a long time ago, but some people hiring illegal aliens for pittance didn't get that memo.

And when I get time, I'll show off some Photoshop skills I've been learning in school. Because I need my pictures to look perfect.

And when I get time, I'm actually going to write on my other blog and share pictures that need to be Photoshopped because they have faded.

And when I get time, I'm going to leave you the funniest, most awesome comment on your blog. Wait! There's always time for that! Even if I don't post, I can still visit you. I'm just a good friend like that.

Growing Up

My baby turned ten. I was really kind of sad about it on her birthday last Thursday. We spent the day together, shopping, getting her hair cut, getting party supplies, buying a "Build-a-Bear" knock-off. (It's the only thing close by.) Her two birthday parties stirred some other emotions, like homicidal tendencies.

We decided to have an "Alice in Wonderland" party and everyone was to wear a crazy hat. Nine crazy kids came to celebrate. Mimi went into show-off mode and it left me wondering how she had friends. Why do kids do that? They are like obnoxious drunks who can't do enough to try to get people to laugh.

Here's our "Tea Party." I actually found gummy mushrooms which I laid on the table for decorations. I searched high and low for these little bottles.

The kids watched "Alice in Wonderland" (the new one). They squeaked balloons until I almost went bizerk and ran in there like a mad woman, popping every balloon. I actually had a visual of this and imagined the looks on the kids' faces. I thought of the rumors; "Mimi's mom is just like the Mad Hatter." This is her cousin, Bryson. They are only a year apart.The day after her birthday, Mimi said, "We need to go to Wal-mart."

"What for?" I ask.

"I need a bra," she announces.

"No you don't," I said in a laugh.

"Yes, I do, too! You said as soon as my nipples start sticking out, that's when I need a bra!"

"I don't think you're nipples are sticking out," I said.

"Yes, even look!" she argued. Then she takes the neck of her T-shirt and stretches it over her chest to expose.....nothing. "See, it's starting to stick out." I'm telling you, it was smaller than a mosquito bite. Smaller than the zit on my forehead - which could definitely use a bra.

I could never imagine doing that in front of my mom. I think she just started buying me bras. I would have been embarrassed to attract any attention to that area of my body. Now, buying a bra is like buying shoes. The "Bra Fitting Specialist" goes in the dressing room to make sure it is adjusted right and the right size.

I went to a "specialty" store and after the lady came to check on me she turned and announced she would go get a bigger bra and announces my cup size loud enough for the entire little shop to hear. When I came out, ready for my purchase, my husband was sitting there with a smirk on his face. Then he says like a teenage boy in a locker room, "Bigger bra, huh?" He was so proud of my hard efforts of growing fat cells on my chest.

Desperate Parenting

I share this story, which I find humorous now, but oh so far away from humorous ten years ago. Young moms can learn from this, old experienced moms may applaud me. But I survived a son with behavioral problems. I'm not talking normal boy things, I'm talking about me and the principal having a close working relationship. Did I ever tell you about the time in second grade when he peed all over the other boys in the boys' bathroom? I, unfortunately, got to know all of Seth's elementary teachers.

I was the president of our children's program at our church and was holding a meeting at my house. We were planning away when Seth, fourth grade, made a huge scene. I'm talking my face was probably bright red, I was trying very hard not to kill him in front of four other women, he was screaming with his foghorn of a mouth about life not being fair and he's going to run away. I believe I told him he couldn't go outside until he cleaned up the landfill we called his bedroom. He went upstairs and packed his backpack, slamming the door as he left. It was one of those slams where you're amazed every picture didn't fall off the walls. To say the least, I was beside myself in anger. BUT......I had to remain socially respectable. Lucky for him.

When the meeting ended, I had calmed down quite a bit and decided to really dig into Seth. I made a sign and put it on our mailbox in very large letters. It said, "BOYS ROOM FOR RENT. MUST DO CHORES." A couple of neighbors called to find out if we were really renting out a room. (There goes the neighborhood!)

A couple of hours later, Seth returned, sign gone, and he said, "Sorry, Mom" and gave me a hug. Here we are ten years later and he still lives at home, usually has a messy room, still fights about mowing the lawn, doing dishes, etc. The thing is, he really can move out and we remind him of that sometimes. We parents need leveraging no matter what age our kids are.

Cheesecake Happens

Last night I had a dream that my son graduated and he was wearing a cap and gown. The thing was - he was graduating with a bunch of delinquents. I have no idea what meaning that dream has.

I got together with my BFF on Friday night while my husband went on a medieval camp with Mimi. No, I did not want to go and when Mimi called to tell me goodnight, she happened to mention there was no toilet and she would have to potty in the woods, that was an affirmation of my decision.

Karen and I ate at Rubio's where I had a sip of water that tasted like it was fresh from the toilet. Really. It was that bad. Try putting out a flaming mouth with that.

Thursday, I came home from work and our conversation went something like this:

Mimi: Why are you wearing a shirt under that shirt?

Me: 'Cause everyone would see my boobs if I didn't.

Mimi: You mean your crack?

Me: Yeah. It's actually called cleavage.

Mimi: Your crack is called cleavage?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: Your cleavage crack?

It reminds me of a time we were sitting in church, Mimi was about 2 1/2 years old. She was sitting on my lap facing me and it was dead quiet during our meeting. Next thing you know she pulls my scoop-necked T-shirt out and puts her head in and says loudly, "Mommy! You have a bum on your neck!" I handed her to Jared and didn't look up to see who saw that one.

I can't wait to explain what an anal cleft is, AKA gluteal cleft. Makes it sound so intelligently special. "Cover up your gluteal cleft." I guess that's what the thong was made for.

Thursday night I had school and Mimi wanted invitations to her birthday party to hand out the next day, which was the last day of school. So when I was telling my friend at work about her turning 10 on the 10th of June of 2010......I started crying. I didn't cry when my kids went to kindergarten, I thought they were so ready. But my baby turning 10? AND my other daughter is going to be a senior in high school this next school year. She's hoping to get a singing/theater scholarship and she said friends are talking about scholarships being better out of state. I told her she's not allowed to go out of state. I would have to move out of state with her and be her roommate.

You may notice I've put on a few pounds since my profile photo from last year. It happens fast and it sucks. I'll blame my birthday when everyone gave me cheesecake. So tonight after a girl's night with Karen, I ended it with reading all the blogs I'm following and had some cheesecake to drown my sorrows (two girls growing up).

Routines

Sometimes we do things without thinking about them. Sometimes we do them all the time and don't realize it......until we embarrass ourselves doing them.

My 17 year old daughter had a boyfriend. She said she broke up with him because she wants to be single during their senior year next year. He's so cute I told her I would just adopt him instead. They are still really good friends, in fact he was at our house tonight.

Usually when I come home from anywhere I walk through the garage door and run to the bathroom usually chanting urgently, "I needa pee pee!" Tonight I walked in and my hubby was waiting with his arms open waiting for a hug and I hand him the grocery bags except he didn't catch them so they landed on the ground and I squeal, "I gotta potty!"

He said, "Can't you give me a hug first?"

I start running down the hall shouting, "I have a turtle!" Well, you can imagine what that means. C'mon, doesn't every family have a code word? I usually only share that kind of information with my family. Except when I came back out, there was Ali's friend that is a boy, but not her boyfriend, sitting there in my living room. I didn't know he was here even though his car was parked out in our driveway. Also I walked out of my bedroom (after releasing the turtle into the sea) in my pajamas singing at the top of my lungs, "Tonight's gonna be a good, good night..." (Black-eyed Peas) and I notice him sitting there. I quickly fold my arms and stop singing and hide in the kitchen. Maybe that's the real reason they broke up.

The sad part about this little routine of running to the loo every time I come home (like Pavlov and his dog) is my nine year old has taken note. I came home and found my toilet lid down with a note on the lid, "Dear Mommy, I went to Lauren's house to play. Love, Mimi." I found another one today. At least she knows I'll find them.

Bloggers Galore!

Gobs of Blogs

There's blogs about family,

celebrities and friends,

Blogs can be short

and some never end.

Some can have causes

Some make you laugh

Some offer recipes

That leave you with gas.

Some are about babies,

vomit and poo

What I learned at CBC

is to just be YOU.

Wasn't that tender? Did you expect anything other than tender? Yes, I went to the Casual Bloggers Conference and it was GREAT! I just seem to be one of the ones who procrastinated blogging about it. If Fifi can blog after trying to immigrate to Mexico, I can blog after having my lovely headache that spanned the weekend. But this is not a whiney blog, so I won't whine. Except about this one thing at CBC:

Do you know what that is? No! It is not my MRI! It is a Tootsie Pop that I was totally ripped off with. You know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Too darn many when there is no Tootsie Roll in the center. If this was my MRI I'd have you know I have a lot of chocolate goodness inside my head.

Me and Lisa getting into the spirit of the night. See what happens when you have too much red food dye in Swedish Fish? Lisa is an awesome dancer!
I stole this picture from Serene. DeNae, Tauna, Serene and Crash. I have no idea what Crash's real name is. I'm sorry. But you can visit thier super fantabulous sites.
This is Alexes at One Cluttered Brain and Linda at See Mom Smile. They were so much fun. We had fun eating out almost every meal with Linda. So much fun - you should have been there! Start planning for next year. I'm glad to have met so many new friends!

Once again, eh hem, let's start over. That sounds like it happens often. Glammy gave me an award! Yipee! Skipee! Woo Hoo! She's actually "Glamazon the Mormon Mom" who I stumbled across following another blog. But here's the thing, Glammy. I love you much better than the other person. But she doesn't know that, so don't go spreading rumors! Okay, you can. They'll all be jealous and mention me on their "What I meant to say..." or "Post its." I'll be black listed. She said she gave me this award because I have funny stories and on of her favorites was about Easter. I tried to find a favorite post of hers but I have resolved to not having a favorite one. I love everything she writes, funny or serious. I really love her Friday Confessionals and I nearly wet myself when I read them. I tried to play along once. I just can't be too consistent at this point in life. I just want to thank her again for not giving me "that other award" because I would have to be way too creative for it! But thanks Glammy, for thinking my blog brings you sunshine.

Now I'm passing it on to five others who bring sunshine in my life:

1. Kyann who is really funny. I love her observations in life.

2 Pearl because she is really funny, too! I try not to hate her because she has no booty.

3. Serene who is so much fun to read and once again - she is another funny lady! Are you seeing a pattern here? These are the women who inspire me!

4. Fiona who is my sister-in-law in Oz (Tasmania to be exact - and yes they speak English there) and hers is more of a family blog, but it still brings sunshine in my life.

5. FiFi who has been on vacation for the last month, but I think it's time for her to come back. One of my fave stories of hers is "Mother: Another Word for" and I think I like the "Avoiding an Affair Part 1 & Part 2." She touches on mid-life crisis. Maybe this award will inspire her to come back from vacation! Go and show her some bloggy love!

My Seinfeld Bathroom Experience

This story is not for the faint of heart. If bathroom humor offends you stop right here.

There's certain things that you just shouldn't have to frantically search for. Like car keys when you're in a hurry. Children in the mall. Immodium. Toilet paper in a public bathroom.

My friend and I went to a new shopping mall a few weeks after it opened. Nature called and we visited the shiny new public potty. As I search for a seat I always make sure there is toilet paper which in real life I call "loo roll." I looked in the nearest stall, nope. No loo roll. The stall next to it had plenty so I went in. I heard two obnoxious ladies walk in and they were talking very loudly. I heard the door next to me close.

Now I referred to these ladies as being obnoxious because they were talking very loudly, as if no one else was around. I think there should be some unspoken law that you don't talk to people when you're on the toilet. Not that it takes a lot of concentration to relieve oneself, but doesn't it seem a little weird? Maybe it's just me. "How's it going, Tinklebell?" "It'll work itself out in the end." Weird stuff.

I knew the lady who occupied the loo next to me didn't have any toilet paper. She hasn't come to that realization yet because of her conversation. Then it happened. First, a gurgle and then a squirt. Then noises you wouldn't want others to hear. But it didn't bother her, "Yeah, and wasn't that shirt so cute? I couldn't pay that much for it." Then some whistles, toots and honks. She carried on her conversation as if nothing was happening, except a flight of geese flying overhead. "So what did she say when you told her?" Her bowels were exploding. There was splashing and pouring between the flatulence. She was what I deemed as "losing her guts." I was sitting in my stall with tears running down my face because I knew she had no loo roll. I was shaking violently with silent laughter. I couldn't come out because I know I would be laughing uncontrollably.

Then she said as loudly as she had the rest of her conversation, "Oh no." That was it. I was in fits.

"What's wrong?" her friend asks.

"There's no toilet paper in here. Would you mind handing me a few paper towels?" This reminded me of Seinfeld's "Can you spare a square?" I could hear the paper towel dispenser in use. "Which stall are you in?" She asks.

"Right here. I'll stick my foot out," she answers.

You could hear the exchange of the paper towels. "Thanks." Then you could hear the rustling of the paper towels and flushing of the toilet. Meanwhile, she is still having conversation like nothing is happening. "Could you hand me one or two more paper towels?"

"How many do you want?"

Ppppppptttttttt! (That's the sound of guts being expelled.) "Make that two."

How I did not burst out laughing at this point I don't know. I'm really bad especially when I know I'm not supposed to laugh. As soon as they left the bathroom I came out and fell into laughter as I recited the event to my friend. This friend, however, doesn't really appreciate bathroom humor though she did say, "Oh my gosh!" and laughed a little. Of course my husband found it hysterical and often asks me to share "that bathroom story" with friends who love a good public bathroom story.

Once in a public lavatory I heard a little girl in her stall saying, "One poopy plop." Pause. "Two poopy plops...." and so on. And I'm sure we've all had our toddlers embarrass us by asking us if we were doing a number one or two in the bathroom. Or they announce that it stinks. Let me know if you post any funny public potty stories.

Enquiring Minds Want to Know

I had some questions asked of me from "Anonymous." Since anonymous could be a number of people, I'm not sure who I am answering. Male, Female? Mean, Nice? I think if I was going to ask myself questions I would have asked something like, "What is your secret to good humor?" or something along those lines.

I was asked what Jared (my hubby) did for me for Mother's Day and why didn't I post anything about that. Well, my darling husband got me some flowers and a box of chocolates. Not just any box of chocolates.....Lindt Lindor. And once again I accused him of trying to make me fat(ter) and he always says, "I don't care if you get fat. I love you." I know. Isn't he a jewel? He really is good to me. He then slept for most of the afternoon and cooked frozen fish for dinner (which I didn't think was very blog worthy, in fact I was a little annoyed he slept all afternoon) and then we went to see my mom who lives about six miles away. We came home and he called his mum in Australia on Skype. I elaborated my children's activities because they didn't do anything for my birthday and I made a big deal about it in one of my posts, so I thought I would update whether Santa was coming this year. I feel I do so much for them, so the least they could do is make me feel special!

I probably didn't blog about that because I try to keep my blog posts somewhat short. I know people are really busy - including me. I work full-time as a secretary for our school district for wonderful people who have moved out of the high school special ed. programs and want to work.

I then go to school three nights a week studying graphic design. You know how some kids know what they want to be when they grow up and they work towards that goal and know exactly what they were put on earth for? That wasn't me. I never knew what I wanted to be except a wife and a mother. My natural talent would be in visual art, but my insecurities have never made me a competitive person and I took my talent for granted "because there are a lot of other people out there who are better than me." I know, that sounds really dumb. Just understand to be artistic you have to have a little bit of a dark or weird side. We all think differently and that's what makes the world a great place. I went into graphic design because of my love for creative things but unfortunately my creative juices are nothing but a fine dust at the moment. Which brings me to the third question.

I have another blog called "Spiritually Speaking." I share my conversion story and other things spiritual but it has been sorely neglected. A friend asked me why I separate the two and my answer is: I don't want to target my readers to just LDS people. I have a lot of friends who don't share my faith and I don't want them to feel as if they can't read my blog because they can't relate. I'm not the kind that can just sit down and start writing and it turns out wonderful. I think very deeply about what I share on that blog and I know I'm in the middle of telling about my friend's conversion. I then have my mission to London to share and lots of wonderful experiences since then. Why don't I just do it? Well, I'm taking Photoshop in school right now and a lot of my pictures need a little "lighting" and touch ups. They have faded with time, just like my other blog.

And the fourth and final question - yes, Anonymous, you are appreciated. I know some bloggers write comments to their commentor comments. I rarely go back to a blog to check to see if the blogger has commented to my comment and I assumed other people were like that too. Though some comment on comments on a regular basis. I sometimes go to my commentor's blogs and answer their comment there. I'm usually a very good commentor. If you don't have a blog, sign it "Anonymous in the blue hat" or something and I will know you from the other anonymous people.

Nothing funny today, friends. I'll work on it though.

Dog Food Reviews

It's been a whole week since I last posted. Since it's "Oh My Heck Wednesday" I thought I would share a funny little story with you.

Mimi was opening a can of dog food, you know, the kind that you pull the ring on the top. As the lid snapped off the can a chunk went flying into the air and landed right in her mouth. She shouted, "Ew! A chunk got in my mouth!" Then she smacked her lips a couple of times and said, "Mmm. Not bad."

My experience with dog food was when I was just her age - fourth grade. We lived in North Carolina and we had a golden mutt that we named Thai. As in Thailand - that's where my dad was at the time on TDY for the Air Force. I borrowed a book about dog species from the school library and my five year old brother and I looked through the book, studying all the species and trying to find out just what kind of dog Thai was.

Page by page, getting distracted by all the species, the big ones, the tiny ones, the fluffy ones and then we found it. We were convinced that Thai was a genuine Dingo from Australia. We told all of our friends that Thai was a Dingo. This was about 1975 when most Americans didn't even know what language they spoke in Australia, and a few years before the movie Grease and way before Crocodile Dundee.

I remember pouring Thai some dried dog nuggets and I wondered what they tasted like, so I threw a nugget in my mouth and started crunching away. I then spat it out almost as quickly as it went in. Why did Thai get so excited to eat petrified poop? I don't think I had ever tasted poop before to my knowledge, but it tasted exactly like the smell of poop. I lost a little respect in my dog that day, but it faded quickly. I never touched his food again. Or any other dog's food, for that matter. When it comes to good food, how can you trust a species that identifies others by the smell of their butt holes?

Peeping/Pooping Toms

I work for a company that employs people with disabilities. We have a production area that some disabled adults work in. We refer to them as clients and even kids, because they are just like kids. Work is like a box of chocolates....you never know what you're gonna get. Sometimes I answer multiple phone calls from the same person in one day. Sometimes people call me for directions and they have to call multiple times from their cell phone as they are on their way. "I see that store, now where do I go?" Some of them we are scared of because they have a driver's license.

I needed to use the ladies room one day last week. I was the only one in the three stall loo and had just sat down when I heard the bathroom door open and close. Next thing I know there were two sneakers under my door. One of the clients had made their way to our side of the building and was peeking through my bathroom door. She turned and left as soon as she saw whatever it was she was looking for, or not. I thought of all the funny things I could have done, like yell at her to "get the hell out of here" or maybe moon her. Unprofessional that would have been. But funny. I told the supervisor in the back and she said she always does that. So I guess I'm not special.

My friend/coworker shared her experience with a client. The client was yelling that she needed a plastic bag as she was holding a wet paper bag. She was making quite a scene and yelling, "I need a plastic bag for my hairspray!" Kate told her she didn't have a plastic bag and maybe ask another worker. This settled her and she said she would ask someone else and would Kate hold her bag for her while she asked. Kate held the wet paper bag, which she discovered had an odor. A very yucky odor. It didn't smell like hairspray. When the client came back Kate asked, "What is in this bag? It stinks!" Client says, "Oh. That's my dirty underwear." Ew.

Then this very same week we had a client who has Down's Syndrome come to the window. This client always wears a baseball cap and never smiles. He said in his very slow, quiet voice, "I'm sorry to bother you."

"What do you need, Ross?" we asked him.

"I'm sorry to bother you." Big sigh. "Well," sigh, "I went to the bafroom," sigh, "A while ago," sigh, and then holds his hands level to his shoulders, "and it was this big." Sigh. "And my stomach hurts." Sigh. "I don't feel good." I'm thinking his intestines probably needed time to adjust to their new position in his gut. We didn't laugh while he was there. You're probably wondering what I said to that. It was something like this: "You'll probably start feeling better since you went to the bathroom." One of the other secretaries said, "Krista, if you don't want to help another person at that window today, we'll understand."

Five Things

Diane at Contentedly Neurotic tagged me with this meme. I love the name of Diane's blog. I was thinking of naming my blog something similar, like "Delightfully Disturbed," "Satisfiably Psychotic" or "Medicated Zombie." What do you think? I just googled a thesaurus and another word for "content" is "fat dumb and happy." I kid you not! I figured I may have to change the name of my blog in a few years, anyway, to "Shades of Gray" or maybe "Postcards from the Asylum." Meme's are great when you lack material to blog about, not in the mood, or too busy to think - which is me (too busy to think). Here we go:

1. Where were you five years ago?

We were in the process of selling our house and building the house we are in now. We lived in a two bedroom apartment because they didn't have any three bedroom apartments left in the complex. I just realized we must have spent Christmas there and I can't remember it at all. It must've been traumatic. We put the two girls in the bedroom and had Seth sleeping in the room that was supposed to be the dining room. In the kitchen you couldn't swing a dead cat or you'd hit all three walls. There were boxes everywhere and wall to wall stuff that didn't fit in our storage unit. Traumatic.

2. Where would you like to be in five years? Right here in my same neighborhood. Moving was a big job and I hope to never do it again. Not until I'm wearing a night gown all day and can't remember my name. Financially stable would be a good place to be.


3. What is on your to do list? This is my night off, so there's not much I want to do. So I'll take this as on my bucket list: Go to Africa and South America so I can say I've been to six of the seven continents. We're thinking an Amazon cruise would be fun. Is there much shopping in Africa? Maybe Morocco or Egypt, that's still Africa. In case you're wondering about the seventh continent - I have no desire to go to Antarctica - maybe when global warming settles a little more.

4. What are five snacks that you enjoy? Chocolate. Chocolate chip cookies. Nuts. Smoked Mussels. Cheesecake.

5. What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire? You know, that's a lot of money. I'd even settle for one million. 1. Buy my dream house in my same neighborhood, completely finished and furnished to my "groovy" style. Landscape finished. Nothing for hubby to do except fan me. 2. Buy houses for my dad, brother, sister, mom, Jared's parents and put money aside for the kids to buy houses. 3. So we're still talking a billion, right. Buy a condo in Australia so we have a place of our own to stay at and visit whenever we want without putting anyone out. 4. Hire a housekeeper, like Alice on the Brady Bunch. One that speaks English would be great. And if she knows how to cook low fat meals, do deep tissue massage and is a personal trainer that would be a surety in getting the job. 5. Open an affordable older folks home for older folks who want to continue living and having fun while they do it. My mom would tell me there needs to be a "no complaining zone." Her words would be a little different than mine (mine would just be under my breath). Wait - there's more! I still have leftover money! Lots of it! Bwahahaha! I'd be a student forever! I'd go to Disneyland! I'd travel the world! I'd get liposuction! I'd have a royal butt wiper! I'd buy a cabin in the woods! A boob reduction.....trust funds.....peace on earth good will to men!

Ooops! I forgot to tag five people:

Lisa at Blue and Shoe because I just love that girl!

Pearl at I Has No Booty because she has already spent a million dollars in her last post. Now she has more to spend!

Linda at See Mom Smile cause she always makes me smile (and laugh hard!)

Serene at Serene Is My Name, Not My Life because she is so darn cute!

Kyann at Sanity Is Overrated because she is so right about sanity.

All of these women are humorous and I am an avid follower of all of them. And with my billion dollars we're all going on a Disney cruise! Dreaming again....going to bed now!