tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40586693119257608982024-03-12T18:21:24.280-06:00Shades of BlondeKristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-38206794999563400632011-07-08T22:58:00.003-06:002011-07-08T23:13:40.240-06:00Bustin' a MoveI was going to wait until I had nothing to do before returning to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Blogland</span>. With our visitors from Australia, a flooded basement, another water leak a week later, my daughter's pageant, Yellowstone, Disneyland.....I haven't had a chance to catch up! Then Seth shared with me this hilarious story:<br /><br />Seth walked his girlfriend out to the car to say good-bye......his little sister (Mimi, 11) decided to follow them. As they had their arms around each other waiting for the right moment for the goodnight kiss, Mimi stood three feet away from them. Unaware of the awkwardness she was causing she stood there, dancing to the beat in her head, wiggling her hips and shaking her booty. The young couple looked at her, trying to give her the hint. Finally, Mimi said, "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">C'mon</span>, Seth. Let's do the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Macarena</span> so we can go inside."<br /><br />Personally, I like doing the Hustle.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-76105070388560810442011-05-13T21:50:00.002-06:002011-05-13T22:00:09.674-06:00Conversations With Ten Year OldsMimi called me at work today and the conversation was so good I had to put her on speaker phone so the other secretaries could enjoy it:<br /><br />Mimi: You know how I was grounded this week?<br /><br />Me: Yes.<br /><br />Mimi: Well, I've been trying really hard to be a better person. Have you noticed I've been a better person this week?<br /><br />Me: Yes.<br /><br />Mimi: I've been trying really hard not to yell. I've only yelled about <strong>four times</strong> this whole week! I usually yell <strong>that</strong> much in a day!<br /><br />Tonight as I picked her and Hannah up from the skating rink for a school skate night:<br /><br />Mimi: It started off boring. It was boy's choice and that means the girls all have to stand in a line with their arms out like this (holding her arm out horizontally, waiting to be tagged). <strong>Luckily......</strong>no one picked me. When it was girl's choice I just skated around the circle - I didn't want to pick anyone.<br /><br />I laughed thinking how different this conversation will be in a year or two.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-23225505153411071282011-04-08T20:38:00.006-06:002011-04-08T23:32:49.076-06:00Lady in WaitingI posted on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span> today that I hate <span style="color:#990000;">waiting</span>. I'm not a patient person when it comes to wasting my time. I went to work and then straight to the doctor for an appointment where I <span style="color:#990000;">waited</span>. And I <span style="color:#990000;">waited</span>. And can you believe there were NO <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">FREAKIN</span>' female magazines! Well, there were baby magazines, Family Fun, Parenting, Golf, ESPN, Car and Web MD. There was also a Bible that I figured was there for people who are <strong>really </strong>sick and need to change their wicked ways. <br /><br />Back to <span style="color:#990000;">waiting</span>. I read the entire Bible.....well, I could have if I knew I'd be <span style="color:#990000;">waiting</span> for an hour and fifteen minutes. Then the medical assistant asked me to step on the scales and I whined like a four year old, "I didn't <strong>want</strong> to get weighed today." <br /><br />She was very sympathetic, "I know, with this cold weather everyone has all those extra layers on." 'Cause it's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloomin</span>' snowing today, folks - snowing in April!!! As if Pia getting voted off American Idol wasn't stupid enough. <br /><br />The numbers appeared on the scales, "I don't really weigh that much." She humored me, "How much do you <strong>really</strong> weigh?" I subtracted 29 lbs. "Really? 20 lbs of extra clothing?" she asked. <br /><br />"You do realize I'm here for depression and you're really not helping matters." She led me into another room where I <span style="color:#990000;">waited</span> for another 20 minutes. Newsweek or Marie Claire? Holy crap. I'm already smart and beautiful. They have nothing to offer me. <br /><br />I went to the pharmacy and I had to <span style="color:#990000;">wait</span> some more because they didn't have my prescription ready. Then I was told my med needed a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">FREAKIN</span>' <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">PRE-AUTHORIZATION</span> and guess what? Because I <span style="color:#990000;">waited</span> so long at the doctor's office it was now 5:00 in the evening and I would have to <span style="color:#990000;">wait </span><span style="color:#000000;">until possibly Monday. That gives me two more days to possibly go on a crime spree.</span> <br /><br />My husband suggested we go out to dinner and because I'm very considerate of his time, I decided to warn him about the <span style="color:#990000;">waiting </span><span style="color:#000000;">time. So we decided to meet there and while I was telling the kids to get in the car he called and asked me to </span><span style="color:#990000;">wait </span><span style="color:#000000;">for him instead. When we got to the restaurant they had a </span><span style="color:#990000;">waiting </span><span style="color:#000000;">time of 45 minutes. You add that to the </span><span style="color:#990000;">waiting </span><span style="color:#000000;">time it takes for the server to take your order and then the <span style="color:#990000;">waiting</span> time to bring your food, the drink refills, the free <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">bread sticks</span>, the mints and the bill and ........ so we went somewhere else.</span> <br /><br />Mimi needed to go to the bathroom and so I came with her to show her where the bathroom is and took the opportunity to wash my hands. As we were leaving I caught a glimpse of a very large brown slug on the floor in one of the stalls. I stepped back to take another look and it wasn't a slug. I said, "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ew</span>. Is that a turd?" <br /><br />"I can't look or I'll be sick," Mimi says. She was obviously switched at birth. <br /><br />That had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this story, but I thought you would like that part. Your welcome. But at least <strong><em>I</em></strong> was a responsible parent and chaperoned my kid to the bathroom unlike some. At least I hope that was a kid......or a stray animal. Did I mention this restaurant kind of rhymes with Crapper <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Barrel</span>? <br /><br />I guess I won't be tying my stories together, they are what they are.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-76313417250837443552011-03-28T20:44:00.005-06:002011-03-29T14:16:46.367-06:00"Voices, Continued" or "Oops! I Pushed the Wrong Button!"When I had a spare minute the other day I thought I would add a little more to my last blog post that was supposed to be saved as a draft. I saw comments needing to be moderated. I looked at the screen in confusion, "Why would I have comments?" Then it hit me. I must have published my last post. So if you are suffering from the inertia it may have created when it came to a quick halt, I apologize. Where was I? <br /><br />Yes, no voice. For <strong><span style="font-size:180%;">seven </span></strong>weeks. It may seem like nothing, but this is how we communicate with each other. I know what it feels like to have a disability. People have no idea if you are intelligent, kind, angry, rude, sarcastic or any other emotion. Whispers come out mono-toned, like <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">texting</span>, except you can use all caps when you text to put an emphasis on words. I had to get good at <em>Charades </em>so people would know what I was talking about, especially in noisy places. You should have seen the kid's face at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">KFC</span> when I ordered the chicken <strong>breast.</strong> <br /><br />It was by accident I found out I could say one word without a problem. I was describing the voices in my head and how they were sounding a lot like Yosemite Sam. So I said a word that sounds like "spit" and my voice came out normal. I realized I didn't have laryngitis - I have Turrets Syndrome. During these last two months I have had to go to a Speech Pathologist for voice therapy. Who has ever heard of such a thing? I had to go around sounding out "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">mmmmm</span>" on an exhale. Then it progressed to "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">mooooo</span>." If anyone had any doubt that I was insane, it was all out at that point. <br /><br />So that has been my trial this year. I feel as if I am overcoming an illness and can see the light of day now. When I went to work today, my friends came in the office to hear me speak, because they said they forgot what I sounded like. Our volunteer that has been coming in for over a month had never heard my voice before. I can answer the phones again. I can call my Mama. I can laugh. Most of you probably didn't even notice.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-24000871173365682562011-03-22T22:43:00.001-06:002011-03-22T22:43:00.883-06:00VoicesSome of you know I have been suffering with a voice disorder for going on seven weeks now. Suffering for me, blessing for others. I can say that I am every husband's dream right now. If you're a friend on Facebook, then you know there have been days I have tried to joke about it, there have been meltdowns, there has been sarcasm, and sometimes no mention of it at all. <br /><br />It's kind of hard at this point not to think that God has some sort of personal vendetta out for me. It seems the things I enjoy doing, He takes away from me. I was an artist and my hand/wrist is full of pain and surgery didn't correct the pain - just gave me a different pain. I love to sing and after that surgery I do not have a voice. I'm not talking I don't have a beautiful voice - I can barely whisper, which takes much effort and if I talk too much I get light-headed.....not to mention my larynx actually hurts. I'm predicting the only thing left to take is my love of food, which now that I mention that.......I have had a metallic taste in my mouth since December and nothing tastes normal anymore. So maybe I will lose contact with everyone I know due to a traumatic brain injury in the near future. That's my Debbie Downer story for the day.<br /><br />So when I was sitting in a church at a funeral, my friend graciously shared the hymn book. I waved my hand like I was turning down a serving of duck liver mousse on crudites. "Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you can't sing," she says with a friendly smile. When you don't sing, you hear everyone around you. A person sitting behind us snorted. I think it was more like an accidental pig noise when your uvula trips over the back of your tongue. Then I heard the same person trying to make their voice match the low vibration of the organ. Then I heard this person's voice scoop to a squeeky high note. This was a lady person, who happened to have no control over her vocal cords and probably over her bladder. Then the conversation with her friend started, "What a shame Danny's not married." "He's not married?" "Well, he was engaged once, but it didn't work out." "He's such a good looking boy, too, what a shame."<br /><br />Then that night we went to Ali's high school production of "Peter Pan." This time the person behind us was a four year old little girl and her grandma. As Wendy comes down from the air with an arrow through her and the lost boys laid her on the ground, she asks, "Is Wendy dead? Is she dead?" When the pirates were fighting she says as proper as she can, "That's not very nice."Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-72649923102448698322011-02-20T15:39:00.007-07:002011-02-20T16:56:26.621-07:00Two TonsillectomiesHave you ever been with someone that isn't very talkative? Do you feel the need to fill in for the lack of conversation and start talking incessantly and next thing you know you've told them your life story? Then you find yourself lying there on the floor in fetal position under the coffee table with your bishop's phone number on speed dial and you feel really stupid because this person knows everything about you and you know nothing about them? Me neither.<br /><br /><br />You may have noticed I haven't been around much since November. Well, without going into details that would even cause a maggot to barf let's just say I have had some issues. With my throat. The Mayor of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Whoville</span> and I have something in common, besides the fact that we're both Republican.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 184px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 273px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575906836026581490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mXxqBeXJbzw/TWGZuZYJYfI/AAAAAAAAAsI/DZi5grPJzgM/s400/Mayor%2Bof%2BWhoville.bmp" />He boasted that he had<span style="font-size:180%;"> 2 </span><span style="font-size:100%;">tonsillectomies. In November, I had my second tonsillectomy as an adult. The first one was about 8 years ago. I knew what was coming. I knew just how bad it was going to be. I knew better than to try to eat <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Spagettios</span>. I didn't know I would be struggling three months later with voice complications. I have spent six weeks out of the last three months with <strong>no </strong>voice. I see trying to communicate with people other than verbally a complication. Some see it as a blessing. Smart @$$es.</span><br /><br /><br /><p>I clap my hands or whistle to get people's attention. I have to play <em>Charades </em>and try to get people to understand what I'm saying. I feel like an idiot. A frustrated idiot. So, I'm going to start using a dice with sayings on it so people don't have to guess what I'm saying. Since there are six sides I will only have six sayings. Of course, there are the two obvious answers, "yes" and "no". For <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">crutial</span> answers that need to be answered verbally, side 3 will read: "Read My Lips" also known as "I can't remember".</p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575918819282466706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sKEEW0ori-c/TWGkn6e_N5I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/KR2b6Kyu-7M/s400/dice%2Bedited.jpg" /></p><br /><p>Side 4: "Whatever" or "Crickets Chirping" or "I did not inhale."</p><p>Side 5: "That doesn't even deserve an answer" or "Come a little closer so I can slap you."</p><p>Sides 6: "I heard you, I'm just ignoring you."</p><p>I have a lot to catch you up on, and since I'm spending much less time on the phone and giving public speeches I should have more time now.</p>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-74659370548570642592010-11-15T22:25:00.000-07:002010-11-15T22:25:01.167-07:00Halloween LeftoversDoes anyone else have leftover goodies from Halloween? Notice there's never any leftover chocolate? I only have one official Trick-or-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Treater</span> 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.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsP36Q14II/AAAAAAAAAr4/JWALIZemFgI/s1600/Mimi%2BHalloween%2B2010%2B001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538037619989274754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsP36Q14II/AAAAAAAAAr4/JWALIZemFgI/s400/Mimi%2BHalloween%2B2010%2B001.jpg" /></a> 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.<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPnG-6avI/AAAAAAAAArw/N5lZFDN1FWM/s1600/Boothe%2527s%2B10-30.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538037331345959666" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPnG-6avI/AAAAAAAAArw/N5lZFDN1FWM/s400/Boothe%2527s%2B10-30.jpg" /></a>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. </div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPhwCTECI/AAAAAAAAAro/DjTw4odlOeg/s1600/Carlson%2527s%2B10-30.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538037239286796322" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPhwCTECI/AAAAAAAAAro/DjTw4odlOeg/s400/Carlson%2527s%2B10-30.jpg" /></a> 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. </div><div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPZgu2RkI/AAAAAAAAArg/tkkmCrzz9Ik/s1600/Rea%2527s%2B10-30.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538037097739732546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TNsPZgu2RkI/AAAAAAAAArg/tkkmCrzz9Ik/s400/Rea%2527s%2B10-30.jpg" /></a>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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Friday_(shopping)">Black Friday</a>? (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.</div><div> </div><div>So....coming up - my daughter Ali is performing in her high school musical - Opening Night Tuesday night, Nov 16<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>. 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, "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fahv</span> and a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hawf</span>." I'll try to post some more in the next few days. Lots happening!</div></div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-10102869332931285872010-10-25T22:14:00.010-06:002010-10-25T23:06:11.905-06:00Spooky StuffFirst, 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.<br /><br />I've been decorating for the season. This is my new favorite decoration. I got it at <a href="http://justabedofroses.blogspot.com/">Just A Bed Of Roses.</a> It's the funnest store ever!<br /><a href="http://justabedofroses.blogspot.com/"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204816507887938" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZW-ECoYUI/AAAAAAAAArY/lgRfKcM0nJs/s400/100_1032.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWshJBqcI/AAAAAAAAArI/E0eA2tbEgUs/s1600/100_1033.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204515081693634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWshJBqcI/AAAAAAAAArI/E0eA2tbEgUs/s400/100_1033.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWm04TTpI/AAAAAAAAArA/m_2b85xyY68/s1600/100_1034.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204417301040786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWm04TTpI/AAAAAAAAArA/m_2b85xyY68/s400/100_1034.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWeGFoGwI/AAAAAAAAAq4/au4gxVC2g5k/s1600/100_1035.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204267301509890" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWeGFoGwI/AAAAAAAAAq4/au4gxVC2g5k/s400/100_1035.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWWJW9J7I/AAAAAAAAAqw/gLmAbrmkBJE/s1600/100_1036.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204130740545458" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWWJW9J7I/AAAAAAAAAqw/gLmAbrmkBJE/s400/100_1036.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWO2h67sI/AAAAAAAAAqo/B4A9sTv3t5M/s1600/100_1042.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532204005427179202" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWO2h67sI/AAAAAAAAAqo/B4A9sTv3t5M/s400/100_1042.jpg" /></a> I made this lovely creation for a family get together. It was a big hit.</div><div></div><div><strong>Dumpster Cake<br /><br /></strong><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWA5o2OKI/AAAAAAAAAqg/4buyREtybeI/s1600/100_1098.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532203765743368354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TMZWA5o2OKI/AAAAAAAAAqg/4buyREtybeI/s400/100_1098.jpg" /></a><br />3/4 cup heavy cream</div><div>1 1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips</div><div>1 tsp. pure vanilla</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>Heat cream until boiling, stirring constantly. Pour over chocolate chips. Stir until completely melted and add vanilla. Put in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">refrigerator</span> for about 30 minutes.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>1 Chocolate Cake mix</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>Follow directions on the box and put mix in a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">bundt</span> 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).</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>1 large vanilla instant pudding mix</div><div>1 small chocolate instant pudding mix</div><div>Green food coloring</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>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.) </div><div></div><div>BEWARE! It is very yummy!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-62368377161805740072010-09-26T21:44:00.010-06:002010-09-26T23:25:07.019-06:00Getting Back to "Normal"<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TKAeSvv70OI/AAAAAAAAAqI/hqvfAc7H1Q8/s1600/100_0813.jpg"></a>I'm waiting for my life to get back to normal. I've had another absence again, but with good reason. My dear <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">step dad</span> passed away on September 17<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>. Art has been my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">step dad</span> 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. <div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521444897164652370" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TKAc4U5kb1I/AAAAAAAAAp4/lWUNHwPIdcw/s320/Art%27s+Funeral.jpg" />The <a href="http://www.patriotguard.org/">Patriot Guard Riders </a>escorted us to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cemetery</span> on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">their</span> 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.<br /><br /><div>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 <strong>really </strong>important and realize there are many things that force you to lose focus on them - like work, school, and fatigue. </div><div></div><br /><div>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:<br /><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521452415034177858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TKAjt7JVuUI/AAAAAAAAAqY/jqO4hbxRFM0/s320/Homecoming+2010+2.jpg" /></strong>This is Ali with her friend Rob before their Homecoming Dance.<strong><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521451686109492114" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TKAjDfsJs5I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/a411U1S7GYM/s320/33592_436009707271_507822271_4798155_962957_n.jpg" /></strong>This is me and <a href="http://www.diamondpotential.com/">Holly</a> in the back, <a href="http://checketts-myers-clan.blogspot.com/"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">KyAnn</span></a>, <a href="http://sarager.blogspot.com/">Jackie</a>, <a href="http://blueandshoe.blogspot.com/">Lisa </a>and <a href="http://seekingsisterhood.blogspot.com/">Shauna</a> 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.</div><div> </div><div></div><div>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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wal</span>-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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kotex</span> 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.</div></div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-68296124221803636082010-09-14T22:07:00.004-06:002010-09-14T22:51:48.804-06:00Bloggin' BFFs and a Bathroom StoryA 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."<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516987287579276402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TJBGtTKCNHI/AAAAAAAAApw/J1OAbcb8pZU/s400/Blog+friends.jpg" />This is Lisa from <a href="http://blueandshoe.blogspot.com/">Blue and Shoe</a>, KyAnn from <a href="http://checketts-myers-clan.blogspot.com/">Checketts-Myers Clan</a> 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.</p><p>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. </p><p>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 <a href="http://ohmyheck-tic.blogspot.com/2010/02/publicpottyphobia.html">this time</a>.</p><p>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 <strong>some one's </strong>food. </p><p>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! </p><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XuqJYkskLsA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XuqJYkskLsA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />Anyway, you can call off the exorcism now. Satan has fallen out of someone's bottom.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-79584888130793527152010-09-03T21:32:00.002-06:002010-09-03T21:31:35.933-06:0010 Useless Bits of Info<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TD0wJLBfWYI/AAAAAAAAAoY/Y7ZTlLUkw-c/s1600/sugardollaward.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493600054597867906" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TD0wJLBfWYI/AAAAAAAAAoY/Y7ZTlLUkw-c/s400/sugardollaward.png" /></a> <div>My sweet friend Holly at <a href="http://www.diamondpotential.com/">Diamond Potential</a> gave me this <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">sweeeet</span> 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:</div><br /><div></div><div>1. Thank the person that gave you the award.</div><br /><div>2. Share 10 things about yourself.</div><br /><div>3. Pass this award to 10 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span> you have recently discovered and think are fantastic.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>4. Contact the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span> and let them know you picked them for the award.</div><br /><div>So here is ten useless pieces of information about me that you could care less about!</div><br /><div></div><div>1. My favorite song at the moment is "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiOeKbRND_A">If We Ever Meet Again</a>" by <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Timbaland</span> and Katy Perry. </div><br /><br />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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">decor</span>. I think your house should reflect who you are and if you are like everyone else then......go for it.<br /><br />3. My favorite color is <span style="color:#ff99ff;">PINK</span><span style="color:#000000;">. There's not enough of pink in this world.</span><br /><br />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!<br /><br />5. I like to put on foreign accents. I especially like to put on accents when I'm going through drive-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">thru</span> 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.<br /><br />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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Crocker</span> now, open the box, add eggs and bake. Hopefully the eggs haven't been in the fridge for six months.<br /><br />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 <strong>is</strong> cursing the blood of Christ. Now that you know, you have to quit saying it.<br /><br />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".<br /><br />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?<br /><br />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. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hmmmm</span>. I just made that belching thing up. I like singing and have fun singing karaoke with friends and Ali. It's awesome therapy.<br /><p>I'm breaking the rules because it will take me another two months to pick 10 bloggers and contact them. So......CONSIDER YOURSELF AWARDED!</p>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-27258417981418787962010-08-31T20:43:00.004-06:002010-08-31T21:24:18.503-06:00The Bull That Started It<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cheeseboy</span>, you may want to skip this one. Your wife, however, may enjoy this.<br /><br />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?"<br /><br />I tried to play dumb. "What? Like a saddle?"<br /><br />"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?"<br /><br />"Oh. Yeah. That's something that you use when you are a teenager."<br /><br />"Well, I saw some at Laurie's house."<br /><br />"Her teenage sisters probably use them."<br /><br />"Well, what are they?" she asked.<br /><br />"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.<br /><br />Here's the commercial that caused the premature maturation conversation:<br /><p><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HUUW4XS9Akk?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HUUW4XS9Akk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></p><p>As soon as church was over she threw herself on the couch next to me. "Remember we were going to have that talk?"</p><p>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 5<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> grade. We are not ready for this.</p><p>"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?"</p><p>"Uh huh."</p><p>"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."</p><p>"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ew</span>."</p><p>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. </p><p>"So why was there one on that bull?" That's what I want to know.</p>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-65089128072768180172010-08-25T21:12:00.003-06:002010-08-25T21:39:12.418-06:00Lessons From DramaSo, I told you about my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">sucky</span> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-9659707485713639572010-08-21T14:47:00.003-06:002010-08-21T16:42:39.989-06:00When Politics AttackToday 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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">liaison</span> 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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cabo</span> San Lucas with virgin <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pina</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Coladas</span>.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-19514426148686247122010-08-10T21:19:00.005-06:002010-08-18T11:25:50.997-06:00I Got Trump FeverYou know, even as a teenager I've never been one to get star struck. I think I was more star struck by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">uber</span> 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.<br /><br />So maybe that's why I don't get why girls go crazy over Justin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Beiber</span>. 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">eighth</span> 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, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">don't</span> 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!<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIYJpWnZDI/AAAAAAAAApY/7VefGjHkmuU/s1600/justin+bieber+edited.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503988248598766642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIYJpWnZDI/AAAAAAAAApY/7VefGjHkmuU/s200/justin+bieber+edited.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Then there is the hair that reminded me of someone who is much, much older.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIYJpWnZDI/AAAAAAAAApY/7VefGjHkmuU/s1600/justin+bieber+edited.jpg"></a> </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIXCK01REI/AAAAAAAAApQ/JGpRYVCLHrc/s1600/donald-trump-photo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503987020633293890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIXCK01REI/AAAAAAAAApQ/JGpRYVCLHrc/s200/donald-trump-photo.jpg" border="0" /></a>So I decided to do a little makeover with my newly found <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Photoshop</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">girly</span> for now. I guess that's not a problem when you're twelve.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIYJpWnZDI/AAAAAAAAApY/7VefGjHkmuU/s1600/justin+bieber+edited.jpg"></a></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIXCK01REI/AAAAAAAAApQ/JGpRYVCLHrc/s1600/donald-trump-photo.jpg"></a> </div><div> </div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIXCK01REI/AAAAAAAAApQ/JGpRYVCLHrc/s1600/donald-trump-photo.jpg"></a> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503991077811784114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIauU_kCbI/AAAAAAAAApg/hJa2B0myEIg/s400/trump+make-over.jpg" border="0" /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TGIYJpWnZDI/AAAAAAAAApY/7VefGjHkmuU/s1600/justin+bieber+edited.jpg"></a></div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-34144900391312749762010-08-10T13:04:00.005-06:002010-08-10T13:43:02.545-06:00Side EffectsThis 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurrence</span> 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!<br /><br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">meat hook</span> 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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Lately, I've been seeing a neurologist. He's put me on this drug called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Topamax</span>. I was really excited to find out that one of the side effects was weight loss. Woo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">freakin</span>' <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hoo</span>! I didn't know he was talking about the weight of my head when everyone thinks I've lost it. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Scatterbrainedness</span> is one of the symptoms. I think it was worded something like concentration/attention and something about recall. No one has noticed any difference.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Then there is the fatigue and feeling lethargic, tiredness, drowsiness, do not operate heavy machinery-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ness</span>, mood changes, depression, suicidal thoughts. So, I'm feeling really suicidal but I'm too tired to carry it out.<br /><br />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?Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-48109234734074389072010-07-27T23:11:00.003-06:002010-07-27T23:51:38.863-06:00Magic MimiThis story kind of reminds me the old cartoon, "Hey! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!" "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">RAWR</span>!" What I'd really like to see is Obama pull all those promises out of his - <strong>but</strong> this isn't one of <strong>those </strong>kind of blogs.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TE-8wXMhTYI/AAAAAAAAApI/e3z-g8YjLJM/s1600/Hocus.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 395px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 399px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498821209088937346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TE-8wXMhTYI/AAAAAAAAApI/e3z-g8YjLJM/s400/Hocus.jpg" /></a> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"Make sure you memorize it," she said.<br /><br />He looked at it again, "Okay."<br /><br />"Concentrate real hard and don't forget your card," she says in all seriousness.<br /><br />He cackles, looks at his card to humor her and says, "Okay. I think I have it memorized now."<br /><br />"Now place it back in the deck."<br /><br />Grandpa, who's played this card trick one too many times in his life does the old <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">switcheroo</span>. "Okay, close your eyes." She closes her eyes. He places his card in the deck. She then straightens the deck.<br /><br />"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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">rummaging</span> 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<strong> wrong</strong> with this <strong>magic wand!</strong>" She looks through the deck again and she finally says, "Hey! Did you trick me?"<br /><br />Trick Number 2: Mimi laid out 12 cards <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">face down</span> 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?"<br /><br />He said, "I don't know, you never showed me the card in the first place."<br /><br />In which we all burst out laughing and she said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot."<br /><br />There's real potential there, I know. She knows how to capture an audience, admit when her wand is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">freakin</span>' broken (happens all the time) and adds humor. We're bookin' her for parties now, so book early.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-74645612596413200542010-07-21T22:03:00.004-06:002010-07-21T23:26:09.975-06:00A Buffet for AnorexicsWhen I was in high school, anorexia seemed to be the new awareness (besides herpes, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Quaaludes</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">AIDS</span>). 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. <div></div><div> </div><div>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 <strong>thee </strong>best recipes.</div><br /><div></div><div>I liken this story to an experience I had a couple of months ago when I went to a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">blogger's</span> conference. It was exciting to meet many other <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>, 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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Blogger's</span> Anorexia offering you their Sugar Cookies or maybe the dreaded Casserole.</div><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 295px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496590102517873570" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TEfPk3iBe6I/AAAAAAAAAow/IaEEQvdWnjU/s400/anorexic+buffet.jpg" />Do you like my first attempt at my new found skills at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Photoshop</span>? I only merged two pictures and covered up Lindsay <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lohan's</span> breast, though you would have mistaken it for a displaced elbow, but anyway. She has seen better days.</p><p>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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">fuzzies</span> 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.</p><p>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.</p><p>I haven't been very good at being organized, so I try to visit my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">commenters'</span> 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!<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 389px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496596670489920098" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TEfVjLIlgmI/AAAAAAAAAo4/JAaWMF7KTik/s400/no+men.gif" /><br /></p>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-65506950833703310492010-07-15T22:06:00.004-06:002010-07-15T23:07:28.744-06:00Support My Cause<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TD_bwCfDwSI/AAAAAAAAAog/AdssgMU4FvQ/s1600/bra.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494351688762638626" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TD_bwCfDwSI/AAAAAAAAAog/AdssgMU4FvQ/s400/bra.jpg" /></a> I belong to a "comment support group" called SITS. It introduces you to blogs of all sorts and I mean <strong>all sorts!</strong> 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.<br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494353600949734482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TD_dfV7_TFI/AAAAAAAAAoo/pLD-gUaOPMU/s400/100_0646.jpg" />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.</p><p>I have found some newlywed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>, nearly dead <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>, newly divorced <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>, and some very ....oh....'scuze me..... ho .... oh..... ho hum <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>. Lots of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">mediocracy</span>. I have also noticed a lot of "cause" <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">bloggers</span>. "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.</p><p>Very few people tolerate my condition. I am a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">blonde</span>. 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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">embarrassment</span> 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.</p><p>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? </p><p>You know what, I'm gonna resign from SITS. I'm gonna start my own "comment support group" called PITS. "People I Try <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Stoppingbytoread-andleaveaclevercommentwheneverIgetaspareminute-betweenworkingfulltimeandschoolparttime-andrunningchildrentotheERforconcussionsafterfallingoffatireswing</span>."<br /> </p><p>It does have a nice ring to it don't you think?<br /></p>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-12797040382164727552010-07-06T19:56:00.005-06:002010-07-06T20:48:07.147-06:00Adverbs and ButtsToday 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490990259218599602" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TDPqjFnazrI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/XZeQI8mTrY0/s400/dik+dik.jpg" />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.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-83337503215760611352010-06-29T21:19:00.006-06:002010-06-29T22:14:51.328-06:00When Vacuums AttackThere 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.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCrABN6sZTI/AAAAAAAAAoI/6iB7DwJsC3I/s1600/vacuum.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488410223052612914" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCrABN6sZTI/AAAAAAAAAoI/6iB7DwJsC3I/s400/vacuum.jpg" /></a> 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.<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCq_4UhbIzI/AAAAAAAAAoA/Lk2lg_qvp0w/s1600/100_0829.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488410070206849842" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCq_4UhbIzI/AAAAAAAAAoA/Lk2lg_qvp0w/s400/100_0829.jpg" /></a> 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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Velcros</span> across the top and made it ache all day.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCq_sBC910I/AAAAAAAAAn4/qnAbekpZlJo/s1600/100_0831.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488409858820396866" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TCq_sBC910I/AAAAAAAAAn4/qnAbekpZlJo/s400/100_0831.jpg" /></a> 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.</div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-35941905077803299972010-06-28T14:05:00.003-06:002010-06-28T14:18:43.322-06:00Surprise RosebudsWhen I was in the bath the other day I was surprised to see.......rosebuds! Not those kind. If we were talking about <strong>those </strong>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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />I laugh, "Okay."<br /><br />"So what size do you think I wear?" she asks.<br /><br />"I don't know, maybe the same size as me," I say teasingly.<br /><br />She looks at my chest, as if she hasn't seen it lately, and pulls her head back and says, "Nah uh."<br /><br />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.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-5316008055395093712010-06-23T21:52:00.003-06:002010-06-23T22:29:20.423-06:00When I Get TimeWhen 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />And when I get time, I'll post a picture of my hubby in a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Speedo</span> 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 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Speedo</span> because.....no time to explain that.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />And when I get time, I'll show off some <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Photoshop</span> skills I've been learning in school. Because I need my pictures to look perfect.<br /><br />And when I get time, I'm actually going to write on my other blog and share pictures that need to be <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Photoshopped</span> because they have faded.<br /><br />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.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-35975224804496876662010-06-15T17:41:00.011-06:002010-06-18T15:01:29.692-06:00Growing Up<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRyhOCLkI/AAAAAAAAAno/3exO1bGasT0/s1600/100_0827.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483152105931943490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRyhOCLkI/AAAAAAAAAno/3exO1bGasT0/s400/100_0827.jpg" border="0" /></a> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tendencies</span>.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRqLW0w0I/AAAAAAAAAng/o94-q8Ar8pg/s1600/100_0809.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483151962624279362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRqLW0w0I/AAAAAAAAAng/o94-q8Ar8pg/s400/100_0809.jpg" border="0" /></a> 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.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRdRT1HKI/AAAAAAAAAnY/BVB3CdEtnWo/s1600/100_0819.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483151740884032674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgRdRT1HKI/AAAAAAAAAnY/BVB3CdEtnWo/s400/100_0819.jpg" border="0" /></a>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.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgQobqRhJI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/nv0_xVu5SwM/s1600/100_0817.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483150833129456786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgQobqRhJI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/nv0_xVu5SwM/s400/100_0817.jpg" border="0" /></a> The kids watched "Alice in Wonderland" (the new one). They <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">squeaked</span> balloons until I almost went <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bizerk</span> 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, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bryson</span>. They are only a year apart.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483155658878159794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RSVudY4S6RM/TBgVBU-bC7I/AAAAAAAAAnw/Xnk6NKhQ4yw/s400/100_0823.jpg" border="0" />The day after her birthday, Mimi said, "We need to go to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Wal</span>-mart." </div><div></div><br /><div>"What for?" I ask.</div><div></div><br /><div>"I need a bra," she announces.</div><div></div><br /><div>"No you don't," I said in a laugh.</div><div></div><br /><div>"Yes, I do, too! You said as soon as my nipples start sticking out, that's when I need a bra!"</div><div></div><br /><div>"I don't think you're nipples are sticking out," I said.</div><br /><div>"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.</div><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>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. </div></div></div>Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4058669311925760898.post-31488583508480304772010-06-09T17:07:00.003-06:002010-06-09T17:31:54.171-06:00Desperate ParentingI share this story, which I find humorous now, but oh so far away from humorous ten years ago. Young moms can learn from this, <strike>old</strike> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!)<br /><br />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 <strong>can</strong> move out and we remind him of that sometimes. We parents need leveraging no matter what age our kids are.Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07870337424997944073noreply@blogger.com17