R.I.P Piney, August 2000 - January 2010

*Moment of silence*

He's dead ya'll.

Dead, as in, dead.

Many, many years ago, he started out, so small and frail, yet so full of life. He endured hardships through the years, and many painful prunings, but, he endured.

And as he grew in strength he protected those around him, always thinking more of others than himself.

Then his time came, his time to shine had finally arrived. He traveled a long and treacherous journey to end up in a tiny town called Lexington in November of 2009.

And on Black Friday, when folks were swiping their credit cards with feverish glee in retail department stores, he was carefully chosen by us from among many to become our own...

As he was deemed superior compared to the rest (and his price was right and he would fit through our sliding glass door).

So we cradled him with love and care in preparation for the long ride home (which was about two minutes strapped to the roof of our car).

Soon he was adorned with jewels, precious stones and symbols of love (namely Wal-Mart colored balls and hand-painted ornaments from Michaels). Oh! and those new LED lights (dang they're expensive, but, they conserve electricity!!).

And in the night I would sit and stare at him as he glowed brightly with majestic beauty. My first real Christmas tree. I fell in love and named him Piney.

He provided shelter for our gifts, the fragrant scent of fresh pine, and constant air filtration from dust and pollen in our living room.

Our Christmas morning was amazing. For a month he had waited patiently, not shedding a needle, or bearing alien spider monsters that would freak me out and cause me to set him on fire. At this point, I couldn't imagine life without him...

The season came to an end, and the adornments were removed, yet as the weeks went by I showered him with words of love, and gentle caresses, and bleach-infused waterings every other day. He yearned to live, I could see it in the little pine cones he bore...

But as the weeks went on, I could tell he was growing frail instead of growing roots. I felt dirty, evil, and wasteful, because I missed recycling week way back in the beginning of January...

So I honored his last wish, to represent TWO holidays before he passed on, and we adorned him with hearts, the symbol of our undying love...

And in the last days, when I would caress him, or play his favorite game, "pull my finger" with him, in which he would emit a fresh pine smell, I would only get handfulls of pine needles, and have to turn away so he wouldn't see me crying...

The time had come. But I held out, hoping he would make a comeback, hoping his drying-out needles were just due to the low humidity and the lull of January in general. And then, to my horror, I saw this while taking out the garbage...

A brother from another mother! He was trying desperately to reach out to me so I could save him! But, due to all the un-recycled boxes and gross neighbor filth and rusty protrusions that could give me tetanus I could not. It was worse than that scene in Dumbo. I could not let Piney know of my grisly find.

Alas, it was time. He had made it two months...see my phone?

Remember, I cannot manipulate my phone, or time, or my emotions...

Audrey did the honors of removing his seasonal decor...and, we said our goodbyes.

We gently laid him against the recycled glass bin, where shattered pieces of glass, like my heart, sat in the cold dark cavern of nothingness (ya know until they become another beer bottle or something).

I turned back to say goodbye one last time, and to sing a few bars of My Heart Will Go On, before my eyes welled up and I tripped on the concrete in my PJs in front of the college dude getting files out of his car...

And then...

I saw...

As he was carried out, I saw that he had left me a piece of his heart...or really a branch.

And I was filled with bitter-sweetness, which is my favorite kind of chocolate. And here he will sit, with other mementos, forever.

Rest in pieces Piney, hopefully by providing shelter in ponds for fish and supporting erosion borders.







For facts about real Christmas trees, click here.

I Failed Sex Ed, A-gain...

OK, so, hopefully some of you remember this catastrophe where I helplessly fumbled over squirm in your seat concepts and screamed about gorillas hiding in bushes and basically failed my young and innocent children in my lame attempt to drastically filter and obstruct any lesson that involved the birds and the bees for at least one more year. Well, I am back to my old handiwork...

Last night at bed time...

Jake: Moooooooooooom, what are these again? *pointing to his groin* Ya know, the things hanging down here?
Me: *Extremely long pause* Uhhhhhhhhhhh...
Jake: *stares at me*
Me: Your testicles.
Jake: But what's inside there? It's like two balls?
Me: Your testes, and sperm.
Jake: What?
Audge: TESTES! TESTES TESTES TESTES!
Me: Honey! We don't walk around saying that word like that, especially in public.
Jake: What do they do again?
Me: They help make babies.
Jake: How?
Me: Well, the sperm comes out to meet with the egg from the mommy.
Jake:*wheels in head turning, smoke rising* Do the mommies eat the sperm?
Me: *looking for a way to jump out the window* Ahhhhhh, no.
Jake: Well, do my testes break off into little pieces and fall off?
Me: [I am pretty sure I no longer qualify as a parent as I stifle laughter] Um, no.
Jake: Then how does it work?
Me: I will explain it when you are older, ok?
Jake: *giving me a crinkled up face* Does it hurt?
Me: Nooooo. *realizing that putting off this conversation is still quite appropriate since he still thinks it might hurt*

Then we actually talked about babies, and how cute they are, and how NOOOOO you can't have 10 babies at once (I left out any reference to Octomom) and easy things to talk about that don't make me stutter and imagine gorillas and force me to curl up into a little ball and cry my eyes out.

I don't blame you if you stop following me. But please don't. I need help. Seriously.

Insanity Mondays

I got all butterfingers-like and broke my favorite coffee mug. I need a moment of silence.
(< ----moment of silence)

It's good for me to be silent like that, because when I dropped the mug, and watched it fall to the ground in slow motion, breaking into no less than 40,347 pieces right next to my bare feet I screamed, "that SUCKS!" Yeah man, it gets bad around here. Fear me.

Man, sorry. I wasn't planning on talking about the coffee cup, but BLARGING CRIPES I loved that mug.

You're all psh, buy a new one! But it was free! That's not entirely why I loved it, but it helped.

Anyway...

So I precariously hauled my nearly 60-pound son down 14 stairs by his wrists and ankles, which wasn't easy, as he is sinewy and strong...kinda like me. AHAHAHHAAH! But man, I obviously have superhero muscles somewhere, because he was kicking and grabbing the railing and flailing and squirming and laughing. Again, fear me, but just until about 1 pm tomorrow, when the intense muscle soreness kicks in. Then I will be prostrate on the floor, and then you can just fear tripping over me.

Two words: Chocolate Cheerios. CHOCOLATE CHEERIOS YA'ALL! This ingenius combination has forever ceased this broken-record of a conversation that always takes place with me and the kids at the store:

Me: So what kind of cereal you want? (my way of feigning diplomatic negotiations)

Audge: (screeching at the top of her lungs) The marshmallow princess one!

Jake: (hiding like a Ninja behind the bin of price-reduced oatmeal) *whispering* That one, with the Spiderman flashlight!

Me: Um, no marshmallow princesses, and Jake you don't even like Spiderman, or the cinnamon-apple crunch you would have to choke down to get the toy! How about Cheerios?

Kids: Ewww no gross! (they run down the aisle and start sparring off down near the Fiber One cereal and an obviously disturbed and bound-up man)

ENTER NEW PART OF CONVERSATION THAT ENDS ALL FUTURE CEREAL CONVERSATIONS:

Me: *singing* There are CHOCOLATE onnnnnnnnes!!

Kids: *they release their choke holds on each other and stumble around carts and crabby geriatric people with digestive challenges to grab the box I am holding over their cute little heads. They act really interested for about 2 seconds and then Jacob tries to slip a slinky into the cart while Audrey crashes into yet another old person*

I'm holding out for candied broccoli now...

Homeschooling:

Jacob: Mom, what's your liver?

Me: It's an organ that...wait, you're looking at it in the dictionary! Read it yourself!

So, I think me and hubs play too many RPG games (that's role-playing games, and, before you either get all excited or grossed out or confused I mean actual computer video game games...sheesh) Because we are now talking like this:

Hubs: *Does something to annoy me*

Me: See this? *pointing to my head* there is a minus 1 approval thingie floating right next to it.

Hubs: *Laughs* Well, I just hit you with an Annoyance Resistance spell and a Mirror of Reflection spell too.

Me: Psh. It didn't work, as I have my own resistance spell on.

Hubs: I need to gift you something then, to up your approval...

Me: Actually it's right here *showing off my cocktail ring bling* and this one  too, *showing my wedding ring* but this one right here has a bondage-er, I mean binding spell on it.

Hubs: I do too! *smirks as he holds up his ring finger*

Me: Yeah, but mine has more power *pointing to all the little diamonds around the bigger stones*

Hubs: Oh yes, you have more rune stones than me. You win.

Funny, we weren't actually playing the video game when this happened. Hmmmm...

Analyzing Psycho, Part Eh? Hairy Legs Edition

So, if any of you have read my psycho rants, Part One and Part Deux  and Part LAZY, which are utter nonsense and a waste of your time basically little tid-bits about de-cluttering my brain, my closets, and my life, you'd know I get really revved up, and then a lull sort of passes over me like a rogue raincloud and not much changes. Maybe it's ADD...I was reading a book before I got up to get my tea, and now suddenly I am writing a post. Anyway...

So, some of my goals were:

-Get the house in order. CHECK! (It only took me 7 months to get to it, seriously)

-Do fun creative things for homeschooling and make sure my kids are learning something. Um, CHECK? (for the latter part anyway, I mean heck, the boy has his multiplication tables memorized!) Anyway I am SO happy for home schooling blogs like THIS ONE!

-Stick to a schedule...UNCHECK! I need help here...I got up at 11 today. Sure, it's Saturday but 11??? It's not much better during the week...

-Serving in a ministry. Well, CHECK...we have been sick but, we have at least mentally committed...

-And be a Cool Soccer Mom. CHECK...but their soccer program was just canceled. Um, YAY for no early morning Saturdays and SOB! That was the best league ever and we could afford it! I am now just a Cool Mom who can sleep in, more, with over-sized soccer shoes for my kids, who probably won't get to play anywhere anytime soon. Lameness.

So, once again, I am sort of caught up, and I need to find some other things to commit to.

So I am gonna brush up on what's happening in the Deaf and Interpreting world. Since I am not working during this transitional phase of life, I seriously need to stay relevant, in case I need to start working again. I have tons of great resources to glean from, and I am motivated (yes!) And, I love the career I chose. Love love love it.

And, I am trying to get my hormones in order. Yes, they are way wonkey. They are causing all sorts of imbalances and problems and scares and really, being 35 so far, I have not enjoyed from a womanly standpoint. I am reading books by Dr. Lee and I am trying to take a holistic approach to "aging gracefully" so...with that, wanting to clean and heal up the inside, I want to get the outside to match.

So, I am planning on working out and getting this ever-aging body into shape. Ya know, just the best shape I can be in, nothing drastic, but something that will carry me into my 40's in such a way that my calves don't jiggle as much as my bingo wings. But seriously I don't even want bingo wings. Hey now, hold up...this is no stinkin' New Years Resolution and seriously, I need to start now, because in 7 months I'll just be even older. And probably jigglier. Ugh.

And, just recently I was noticing that it's time to pull out the ol' pumice stone and shaving paraphernalia, mainly because in these parts of the world springtime comes like in April and, before you know it, wearing jeans causes you to stroke in the warm weather, socks slide right off due to excess humidity, and your kids ask you why there is hair under your armpits. So it kinda becomes important to me to have a summer facade that won't make people scream and run in terror. And, I have to start taking care of all of it now, because undoing months of winter neglect, while hiding under lots of layers, is an arduous process; man, summer is SO exhausting.

Then I saw this:


And, let me just say, that tons of emotions flooded my being all at once. I was all, ACK! YOUGOGIRLWHATINTHE??ISTHISREALCANIDOTHISTOO? And hey! Nice feet!

Caveat here; I am always attempting to read the actual NEWS in the morning, and somehow I am distracted by this tomfoolery, which apparently serious professional journalists think is important for me to know about, AND spend copious amounts of energy thinking about for the rest of the day, and thus allow the sludge that corroded my mind to spill out onto my blog, which is just ridiculous. (Wow, awesome run-on sentence there!)

Yet, here I am. Psh. Don't judge. You're here too man.

So anway, after all of that, I can SO happily skip right on past the deep contemplation of social norms, cultural stigmas and superficial expectations of Hollywood and the like because Mo'Nique simply stated that she does not care to shave. 'Nuff said. I can TOTALLY live with that.

But, as much as I admire her, I must say that to all who are within a near radius of my being I will be fair; since I spend a great deal of my summer poolside, for the betterment of, and regard for, civilization and young children around me, I will care. The End.

Mo'Nique, you are my hero.

FANTASTIC FLASHBACK FRIDAY SNOTNESS!

ACHOOO! What? *sniff* HACK. Ewww.

Man! My daughter has been sick all week, which, was sort of OK, because I was on my massively-psysho, must-clean-every-closet-and-nook-and-cranny-in-my-home, cleaning trip. So while she hacked and snotted all over the place, I watched The Office episodes on Netflix and cleaned like Agassi on Meth (though he knows now, as I have known forever, that Meth is not necessary for manic cleaning, merely motivation is all you need, NOT Meth. PSA done.)

Now don't go thinking I am one of those amazingly organized and cool moms for having TOTALLY clean closets and for removing 15 bags of stuff from my home; It was penance really, because there is no excuse for a SAHM to have such chaos existing in a tiny apartment. It was bad.

So now that I have paid my bills, cleaned the house AND plucked my eyebrows, I am COMPLETELY ready to be sick for the weekend, thanks to said daughter who so generously shared her snot-ridden disease with me! YES! *doing the cabbage patch with tissues stuck up my nose*

Oh wait, that was a bad idea! *head pounding, sweating and HACK HACK!*

Oh YUCK what is that? Gross!"

So, how appropriate that it is Friday, allowing me to not think and simply post my...

FANTASTIC FLASHBACK FRIDAY FUNNESS!

Oh man RUN! Kitty is about to sneeze, and being sneezed on by a cat is worse than dog farts! Seriously RUUUUUUUUUUN!

Well first, stick around and read my post down there. Yeah, I've posted this before but, I'm sick so humor me (sick with a cold you sarcastic sillies) BUT it has revisions, because this is my blog and I do what I want. It's like, my Third Edition, and it is awesome.

And, if you're sick too, maybe you'll relate, and laugh, and the laughter will cure you, and then I can be credited with your healing, and then I can bottle and patent and sell this post as a cold remedy and cure the world of the Cold Virus and become rich and famous and pay someone else to clean my closets. I need a nap.

* * *

You Are One Sick Mother...

About 5 pm yesterday the smack-down happened; I was minding my own business when suddenly my throat decided it was time to set itself on fire. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I wonder if this is the result of my son sneezing directly into my face as I was flossing his teeth two days ago? Probably, I surmise, since the stench of his puss-filled tonsils wasn't successful in knocking me out initially, The Cold thought it would give it a try. So, I am sick. Have you had day like this?

You feel The Cold creep over, tap on your shoulder, and ask if it can ruin your life for a while. You shake your head no and pretend that it isn't crawling into your nose and orifices, cackling crazily as it looks for ways to infiltrate your mucous membranes and lymph nodes. You continue on with your day, cooking, driving, meeting, cleaning, blogging, ignoring, overcoming, and when your work is done, you convince yourself that you're just a little "worn down" from your awesomeness. So, you get into bed and say to yourself, "I'll be fine in the morning."

WRONGNESS!

See, during the night The Cold found the key you had hidden under the mat and he took up residence in your head, changing the interior design you had worked on so diligently (ya know, with your vitamins, healthy eating and consistent exercise. psh) into a raging mess of green phlegm and rapidly multiplying bacteria, all the while laughing as he turned up the thermostat.

Morning comes and you stagger out of bed, met by two equally snotty children, who are bouncing around like excited electrons, because apparently The Cold has no hold on their ability to move, like he does on you. This makes The Cold THAT much more not awesome. Because see, you just can't plop on the couch with great cold meds and Netflix watch instantly epis of your favorite shows. Oh no. You're a parent. Deal.

You pour orange juice over their cereal and stumble like a lame Zombie over to the couch as they scream in disapproval over your recent culinary decisions. You need to go to the bathroom, but, it can wait as you mumble though a few phone calls to cancel, uh, your life...

You know today is going to be a great day for the kids, full of TV, games, and junk food, and you don't care. You will do whatever it takes to stop them from walking...their feet on the carpet causes cranial pain beyond comprehension. You are out of cold meds, so you down 18 Children's Tylenol tablets. There's breakfast!

And then it starts:

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! I need MILK! Not juice!
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! He put glue in my hair!
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Where is the remote!??
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! I broke the remote!
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Before you can blink it is lunch time. You haven't gone pee yet for fear that your head will explode if you get up, but you arise anyway because kids are on your lap, bouncing mercilessly and breathing on you, which is like daggers in your eyes AND full bladder.

Figuring food is merely secondary to survival (because you think so clearly while ill), you throw down some bread and lay peanut butter in a stripe (why is the peanut butter white? you don't care) and sprinkle chocolate chips all over it, and zap it in the microwave. You don't remember putting the food on the table, or how you got to the bathroom, but thank goodness you did as you haven't peed in nineteen hours and you are convinced it is now coming out your nose. Oh no, that's just snot. Lots of it.

Cartoons are over and a Jerry Springer show comes on, but you figure this one exposure is OK since the remote is now broken and the TV is all the way across the room and thus out of reach. Husband calls to check on you.

"Hi hon!'

"nnnnnnnhhhhhhh"

"Uh, not feeling good, huh?"

"nnnnnnnhhgggggggggmmmmbbb"

"Kids ok?"

"nhhh?"

"Do you need me to come home?"

"Nnnnnnne hmmm hnnnh hfffff gggg!!!"

You are PRAYING he understood that you actually said, "YES IMMEDIATELY!" but instead he interprets your lack of vowel usage to mean you are totally rebounding from this onslaught of disease as he says, "love you!" and hangs up. You think to yourself, oh, he is SO getting this Cold! I will SO snot all over his face as soon as he walks in that door!

The room continues to spin as you lose consciousness from time to time, finding yourself sometimes in the kitchen making something with chocolate chips, breaking up fights, or sliding off the couch.

You make it to 5pm and hubby comes home, finding piles of clothes in strange places, dishes all over the house, snot rags covering the couch and the kids running around yelling, "mom fed us chocolate chips and mayonnaise for lunch! Dad, what is a 'babydaddy'?" Hubby looks at you and asks, "what's for dinner?"

You throw the phone, and a take out menu, toward his kneecaps and crawl to the bathroom as your kids bound after you, asking where their glue went and if it's OK to put apples in the dryer.

Somehow you manage to lock the door just as the kids start banging on it, screaming "MOOOOOOOOOM" for about 5 minutes, until hubby comes over and says, "you ok?"

"mmmmmmmmmmgnbgngggggggg"

"Ok...you want sweet-n-sour or cashew chicken?"

"mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmbbbngggg?"

"Ok, I'll order that."

Prostrate on the floor, you see a magazine left there by hubby, you pick it up to read it, but decide that the floor is much more interesting.

The scum and debris on the floor is making you feel worse, so you throw several shampoo bottles at the light switch and somehow get it to turn off, but now you will have to clean up shampoo that has splattered all over the wall. No time to think about that while you are busy trying not to die.

The ringing of the doorbell brings you back to life and you move in Matrix-style slow motion to the table to eat some take out. But, your head feels like the inside of a bass drum and it is pounding so severely that you will have to time your chewing to the pulsing in order to just bring your teeth together.

Hubby finally gets that you are SICK because you eat one bite of food and start to cry. He sees your crusty eyes, the wad of toilet paper stuck in one nostril, and snot running out of the other, and says, "maybe you should go to be-" and with that you fly up the stairs, lock the door and fall into the bed.

Yeah, tomorrow should be a better day...

Two Words: Heidi Montag. I Just Have To...

Sorry ya'all. I just have to chime in on this one.

I barely knew who Heidi Montag was until about 6 months ago, because I don't watch TV regularly. Since then I have seen her here and there on the news, and on talk shows with her husband, promoting their book and bragging about how cool it was to be "villains" in Hollywood. A few times I kinda thought maybe she was in on the joke with the rest of Hollywood, capitalizing on a character, ya know like Barney, or The Joker, or the Chihuahua in the Taco Bell commercials?

Anyway...

I don't think she's enjoying the ride. I think she is tragically delusional and a hurting soul.

And OK, why care, right? I mean, duh, there are many horrible things happening right now, people need our attention and care through donations and prayer in Haiti for example. But when I saw this I was just dumbfounded...

I watched her GMA interview, where she claimed "that beauty came from within," and that she didn't look different, just a "different, better version of myself". Huh? And, this interview is even sadder. She says she almost died for this. I would argue in many ways she already did.

Look. I still remember the day when an older boy teased my son about his ears at a birthday party, a kid my son hadn't met before, a kid my son wasn't even talking to before he was hurt by him. I remember seeing the kid walk up to Jacob, and them talking, and suddenly my son's smile dropping away as the kid laughed, pointed and made loud remarks about how big and funny looking his ears were, remarks I could hear on the other side of the room. When the kid bounced away laughing, I went over to Jacob and asked him what happened. "He said I had really big ears mom! He said I was funny looking!" He didn't engage for the rest of the party. My son was five!

Needless to say I cornered that kid like a starving mama bear, with a bad case of PMS, and had a little "talk" with him, eye to eye. I couldn't help it. If he was old enough to effectively make a little boy hate his ears, in 10 seconds, he was certainly old enough to hear what I had to say through my humongous bear fangs. And, no worries, I was diplomatic and stern all at once; I did not make fun of the boy back, but he KNEW he better not EVER do it again to my son or anyone! And although I assured Jacob that there is nothing wrong with his ears or looks, he still complains about his ears, so they must be covered by his hair, and sometimes worries that he is funny looking...this child:

Ya'all that breaks my heart.

So it makes me hurt for Heidi too. She states that people have made fun of her her whole life, and that she was an "ugly duckling" before she became "famous", though the ridicule continued through blogs and other sites. Her face became a reminder to her of the unfair words and teasing she received at the hands of heartless people, and seemingly she has responded to it in such a way to perpetuate it. The characters she and her husband now play clearly reflect the pain they have endured; I mean, what better way to deal with public hatred than to welcome it in with open arms, like you brilliantly orchestrated the whole thing yourself? I mean, her album is called Superficial for goodness sakes!

It's kinda like this, cat poop stinks, right? Oh of course it does I am SO right. Gag. And, sometimes you try to use an air-freshener to mask the smell. Eventually though, that air-freshener has an underlying scent of cat poop no matter where it is sprayed, or how much you loved the smell before; you are then forced to change that air-freshener to again mask the smell of cat poop that is always there regardless.

So sad. It wasn't that her face/body wasn't pretty enough, it was that it represented something that stunk, people in her life who treated her poorly. Yeah, we all have endured unfair scrutiny to some degree but, come on, some people are very delicate in nature, and, as we all know, the cloak of anonymity on a blog, or web site, or comment thread can allow people to be pure, unadulterated evil. We all can't be strong in the same ways. So, she changed what to her was already destroyed and in her mind rebuilt it successfully, though the backlash that comes now through Hollywood will be even worse, and already is. But she is living in The Now, and, for now, if she doesn't see that same face, she doesn't relate to the pain. When you're 23, have no guidance, and you sadly can't appreciate how your worth and beauty was created, from the place it matters most, this is what happens.

I mean, what do you all think? While I don't want to coddle my son into thinking he is amazing looking, I do want him to be proud and thankful for how he was made, and to not allow people to dictate how he views himself. I want him to be accountable to his actions and character while not being dependent on the approval of man. I wish that for Heidi.

So, if in any of our circles, her name comes up, let's say a quick prayer for her, and something nice too, shall we?

Insanity Mondays and READ THIS...You Might Have Won Something...

Here is it, the day is nearly over, and I am JUST now posting! That is how INSANE my Monday was! Just like that guy feeding the shark. INSANE!

Not really. I just cleaned closets all day, like I have for the past 5 days. Amazing what you find while Spring Cleaning, thankfully no sharks, or spiders, or spidersharks...I won't have to do this again for at least another 5 years. I.rock.

But do you know how fun it is to burn files? Oh man, FYAH! It roared and blazed, I cackled and added more and more paper and it blazed and blazed aaaahahahhahhahahaaa!!!

It also makes a mess in the fyah place.

But, I had Piney to off-set the carbon monoxide.

And I still have him. Oh yes, I do.

And, he's looking a *tad* dry but today, I sprayed him with a light mist and petted him. I shall love him forever.

Please help me.

Oh oh! I have awards! Yes I do!


First, I have this sweet HAPPY cupcake award to pass out, the rules are that I am to state 10 things that make me happy, and list 10 blogs that brighten my day, this is from Holly Ann over at My Bubbled Mess. Thank thee, Holly!

Here are 10 random things, not the top 10 things, but, just 10 random things. They are:

1. Piney
2. Clean Closets
3. Toilet Paper
4. Jim and Pam from The Office
5. Bad Coffee
6. Good Coffee
7. Charlie The Unicorn
8. Ninja Glare
9. Spam Fried Rice and
10. My washboard abs (yeah, right)

OK, and now 10 blogs to bestow this to, 10 that brighten my day, like cupcakes, especially white cupcakes with white frosting, which I totally forgot to add to my list, but still...

1. Be Different...Act Normal
2. Cake Wrecks (how appropriate!)
3. Maxgrace
4. Domestic Dork
5. Life is Not a Cereal
6. One More Werre
7. Jon Weece's Blog
8. Weird, Unsocialized Homeschoolers
9. It's A Beauty-Filled Life and,
10. Stacy's Random Thoughts

Awesome...now, for this award:

This was awarded to me by Kelly at Speaking From the Crib, and, she is pretty flippin' remarkable herself. I wonder if she could do a flip? Anyway, she awarded this to her blog roll so yeah, I'm doing the same thing! So, if you're on my blog roll down there OR you see your button, you obviously, in my mind, are a remarkable read, and know that I try to check your blogs everyday and I try to comment on every post so, congrats! Take it! Take it!!!

And lastly, this uh-MAY-zing award, from A Day in the Life of a Surferwife,


Man, THANK YOU Surferwife!!! She thinks I am "bizarre" and that's A.O.K. by me! Totally, I could stare at this all day. This goes to bloggers who I am pretty sure love Chuck as much as I do! Their wit, humor and sass deliver such a serious round-house kick to your face that you can't help but crawl back for more kicks, offering your other cheek while you cry and giggle and drool bloody molars out the other side.

So before I pass this on, I must post an awesome Chuck Norris-ism, as will my recipients. Which I will now do with pride. Ahem:

"When Chuck Norris' wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Don't worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, 'Never question Chuck Norris.'"

Man, I love Thanksgiving.

This awesome award goes to:

Wendiwinn
Sounds Like Tomatoes
Much More than Mommy
Speaking From the Crib
E3P2S
The Creative Junkie
Daily Dose of Reality
Straightjackets Are Slimming and,
A Fabulously Good Life

And with barely an hour left in my Monday, I say to all,

Peace.out.

FANTASTIC FLASHBACK FRIDAY FUNNESS!

So yesterday I wolfed down an awesome turkey, ham, salami and cheese sammie with chips and I was noshin' and happy and thinkin', "man, I wish I could eat these everyday" and all was right with the world. Then I woke up at 4 am. Let's just say it wasn't purty...

So, it's Friday, and, while I recover, I thought it would be great to flash-back to times when I nearly threw up for other reasons. Sound fun? Oh, of COURSE it does because it's time for...

FANTASTIC FLASHBACK FRIDAY FUNNESS!!!

Poor kitty. He's always so angry. Be happy I didn't make him puke up a hairball, because I have the ability to, and I am JUST in that kind of mood...

So, grab some Pepto and enjoy the flashback. Leave me some comments of commiseration, will ya? Thanks!

I Was Not Made for Fear Factor!

So, I don’t know if Fear Factor is even on anymore, but I did enjoy squealing over it years ago when we still had TV (college budget and kid’s eyes can cause drastic actions, like canceling your cable). I am thinking maybe it was canceled? Well, if they are still serving up cow brains to ingest, and possibly infecting people with Mad Cow Disease (maybe they test them), then, they SHOULD be canceled…BSE..shudder…

Anyway I know I wouldn't qualify. Why? I can't swim, I'm not competitive, I won't wear a bikini, and I have no sense of adventure, but, besides that, I know for a fact that I could never, ever, reach deep, deep down inside and muster up the courage and ability to scarf down any sort of bug or animal part that doesn’t end in “chop” (like pork chop) “burger” (like hamburger) or begin with “fried”, like fried gizzards. If its fried, I might be able to choke it down…

I learned this about myself the minute I put Jacob on “solid” er, baby food. I was all about giving him a balanced array of foods, mashed mush that would give him the most bang my buck (I used to sit by his crib and pray for him…and uh, count out how many calories he had consumed that day to assure I didn’t starve him. Believe me, he was NOT starving!). So Jacob ate his fair share of apple cereal with cinnamon (cinnamon for brain development) mashed prunes (for iron and easy poo) creamed spinach (for all those "benes" of dark, green leafy vegetables) and, for a protein punch, creamed turkey.

Have you ever TRIED the creamed turkey, let alone looked at it? When you open the jar, it looks like something you left in the fridge for about three months. This is one of those things I did to Jacob that I will always feel bad about, feeding him creamed turkey. My cute little man ate that creamed turkey without a peep of complaint, and I mixed it with his apple sauce, spinach, and whatever else was the food de jour.

My mom told me that when I was little and still on baby food, she would come home from work (dad worked nights, mom worked days, I got LOTS of fun time w/ both parents as an only child) and find me just starving. My mom would ask, “did you feed her?” and my dad would say, “of COURSE I fed her!” Sometime later she was present when my dad was feeding me and came to realize the source of my ravenous appetite-I’d get a bite, he’d get a bite, I’d get a bite, HE would get a bite…apparently he never tried the creamed turkey, or he has no taste buds.

That creamed turkey is the equivalent of Freddy Kruger, your garbage disposal contents, and all the fear-factor foods blended-together, COMBINED!

One day as Jacob was eating it, mixed WITH his creamed spinach (another not so yummy jarred food) I decided to try it. I thought, well, this can’t be all that bad, probably just like baked turkey. And, I LOVE turkey! Thanksgiving is my favorite meal! Surely I was raising my son to be a lover of all foods yum.

By the way…when Jacob was six months old, and I was nursing, I made that mistake of holding him over my head and cooing at him. The boy puked up digested breast milk, and it shot right into my mouth and down my esophagus before I even had a chance to digest (haha) what had just happened. There is nothing quite like the taste of bile and curdled milk together.

I am serious, I would drink a pint of that before I would ever let that creamed turkey touch my lips again.

As I raised the spoon to taste test my son’s turkey lunch, the smell prompted a gag reflex so forceful that it caused my uvula to shoot out of my mouth and hit the wall (the uvula is that dangly thing in the back of your throat, in case anyone was overly alarmed at what a uvula might be). I actually got scared and began shaking and sweating. That instant I started considering whether or not I should even serve this vile paste to my son ever again. Protein…was it really that important? Couldn’t I just give him peanut butter and eggs and have an Epi-pen handy, in case he was allergic to either, or both?? Wouldn’t that be more humane?

I ended up switching to creamed chicken, which wasn’t quite as offensive, but I still had to be prepared since the site of anything pale and pasty caused me to start heaving. Thankfully, he was only on baby food for a few months. Audrey wouldn’t go near the stuff. Good girl! Let’s keep Fear Factor OUT of our menu!

I Wear My Sunglasses on my Head so You Can See my Smeyes...

I am always slapping on My Face in the car; I barely pull myself together enough to force the kids to use the potty, throw on some clothes and fly out the door in time for anything, so, The Face must be applied in the car while we madly drive to our destination. And, while I try desperately not to stab myself in the eye with my mascara wand as we hit pot holes, I hear this:

Jacob: Mom, what are you doing? What's that stick? What's that white stuff you put on your face? Paint?

Me: I am putting on my make up.

Jacob: Why? You look fine!

Josh: Really Kim, you don't need make up.

Me: Thank you, men, in my life, for boosting my self confidence, and trying to prevent me from blinding myself, but my ZITS make me think otherwise, and I don't want to scare little children, have women slip me their business cards for AVON zit cream, or have someone ask me if I have the Chicken Pox!

Jacob: Well, you don't need to put all that stuff on, it doesn't matter what other people think!

Audrey: I love make up! Give me the stick mom!

So, a few days ago, Jacob's Words-o-Wisdom echoed in my head as I realized we were out of milk and bread, and I needed to run to the store.

I thought, is it worth wasting make up for? It's not like I will see anyone I know, and I am totally past trying to impress anyone, especially when I am buying Preparation H and Always Extra Heavy overnight pads. I mean, hubby manages to look me in the eye everyday like this without recoiling or crying so, why should the Produce Man get any better? Yeah, Produce Man, say hello to my leeetle frens...ACNE! MUAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAA!

And with that, I threw on some clothes and ran my fingers through my hair, because combing is too cumbersome, and causes static, which forces me to use hairspray on already nasty hair. I stare in the mirror and realize that even though it's 2:30pm, I look like I just woke up. And, not only am I looking my age these days, I have exactly 20 zits on my face, in really cool places, like on my eyelids, upper lip and the center of my forehead. Produce Man is gonna be soooooooo impressed scared out of his mind.

But before I left, for whatever reason, I decided to accessorize. Oh yeah. A nice bright red scarf, and, to top the look off, sunglasses on my head.

Suddenly, I was transformed.

Those glasses, well, they gave my hair a little lift, and the scarf added a little, je ne sais quoi, but, somehow, I went from looking like a worn-out lazy mom to a supermodel who, after staying up all night at a swanky after-party, needed some Preparation H for her baggy eyes, not because she carried two children over 8 pounds...

I then decided, in the three minutes I had to warm up the car, to perfect my "smeyes". Oh, you don't know what that is? It's smiling, with your eyes. I tried to find the Tyra Banks interview with Larry King, because she teaches the smeyes so well (it looks like she doesn't want her secret all over the net). But, for reference, here is Jennifer Lopez; she is always smeyes-ing, but really, I always thought she was near-sighted, or smelling something bad, or just trying to be sinister...

SMEYES!

So yes, with sunglasses on my head, and a fancy scarf and my smeyes, I went about my business, getting eggs and toiletries and bananas without causing mayhem or blinding anyone. In fact, someone mistook me for Angelina and asked for my autograph. Psh.

Insanity Mondays

Oh my goodness ya'all...

Here's the tree, still sitting happily in my living room, emitting extra oxygen and a strong, fresh pine scent!

Yes...it's still alive! It's a post-Christmas, post-New Years, post too-lazy-to-throw-out-the-tree miracle!!

What, you don't think that is a current pic? Psh. Check it:

See those beautiful needles, next to my phone, with today's date? That proves it, and now you can go tell all your friends you know a crazy blogger who has had a real Christmas tree, with all the pine needles STILL ON, in her living room for 6 weeks now, and counting. And, don't start thinking I am smart enough to change the date on my phone to fool you, I can barely work the volume settings...

So as you can clearly see, my plan to keep the tree as long as possible...is...working...

But, I didn't think this through all the way...

The longer Piney lives, the more attached I become.

AND...what the what is this???

Is Piney actually growing pine cones? Seriously? I can't remember if these were there when we bought him!

What could it be? The fact that our house is a cozy 68 degrees? Just the right amount of natural light? The fires I have going everyday are providing the extra carbon dioxide it needs? The squirt of bleach I add to the water each time I water him? Or is it because every night I "pet" Piney, telling him what a great tree he is, and that I hope he lives forever???

Can you imagine, come July...

Random Friend: Whoa! What's that, kim?
Me: Oh, that's my plant.
RF: Plant? It looks like...a Christmas tree?
Me: Oh, it is...
RF: Is it real?
Me: Yes. It's immortal.
RF: Wha?
Me: Yeah. Piney's gonna live forever, as long as he has bleach water and constant love. I am willing him to my kids...
RF: Piney...hmmm...so...you're not gonna throw it out?
Me: What are you INSANE? Look at him! He's amazing!
RF: He...yeah, well, are you gonna at least pick up all those pine cones on the carpet?
Me: Nah...when you leave I'll let the squirrels in and they'll take care of it.

Sigh...

Don't Miss the Beauty of the Little Things in Life!

When your day feels like a flurry of craziness...


Don't forget to stop and enjoy the little things in life...

** Yes, both pix are mine, and that IS a real snowflake; the picture was taken with my awesome Sony Cybershot DSC -H10

I Found Bigfoot, And Bigfoot Hates Shoe Horns...

Having a little girl is so sweet isn't it? I mean, I love my boy too, and, if you have read this and this you know, like all highly emotional, pre menopausal moms, I am nutso crazy gaga about both kids. But, with little girls everything is so, little! Cuteness!

Especially her nose. Audge probably has the tiniest nose I have seen but, it fits her face, and she also has cute little lips and elfish ears, blonde hair (which still amazes me) and while her stature is fairly average, man...those little tiny attributes...so so CUTE! *restraining from making squealing sounds and pinching her cheeks*

In many ways this doesn't surprise me; my ring finger is 4 1/4, even though I am nearly 5'6". My shoe size is a modest 7 1/2, and my wrists and ankles are small (though not shapely) and this is why I cannot do push ups or run; they just ain't gonna stand to the pressure...the girl was destined to have some sort of small physical features...

But, it ends there.

See, last year, dance and soccer season came knocking, demanding our money, so it was time to crawl out of my hibernation hole and commit myself and my kids to their extra-curricular activities. Of course like a responsible, prepared mom, I pulled out all the gear about 4 days before everything was supposed to start up and CRAZAP Audge's shoes did not fit! Her soccer shoes, ballet shoes and tap shoes weren't just a wee bit snug, they were like, SIZES too small. I looked at her feet. What the hey happened over the winter? I always buy their street shoes big, so I hadn't realized that her feet were growing at a rate faster than mold on shower grout!

And bless her heart, you know I tried and tried and tried to shove her precious feet into those shoes; I was convinced we were not utilizing the space in the shoes correctly; I used shoe horns, made her put on really thin nylon socks, had her stand, sit, hold her legs in the air to have all the blood drain from her feet...just short of grabbing the butter I decided it was in fact true, it was time to buy new shoes.

So as you know, soccer/dance season is pretty much the same for every 6-year-old in the United States, so the first three stores I checked on-line were OUT. As was the dance studio, at least in her size. However, Amazon saved the day, and, while my son was fine wearing his soccer shoes for another season, I slapped down a considerable amount of moolah to properly prepare my daughter for her dancing, goal kicking feats of fabulousness without causing her any pain or phyisial deformities...

And here we are again...

Again, about 5 days before her dance class was to start...

Me: Put on your tap shoes hon.
Audge: They don't fit!
Me: WHAT?
Audge: I can't get them on!
Me: Oh, well, that's the wrong foot...let me try...
*shoving, whining, crying, semi-cursing and more shoving ensues*
Me: WE JUST BOUGHT THESE LAST YEAR!
Audge: Let's get new ones!
Me: *crying because I know I will have to buy soccer shoes too*

My daughter is Bigfoot.

Seriously, I need to go into the shoe business. I mean, at this rate I would be a millionaire, as sobbing moms, who have to take up a second job, come to me to buy new shoes for their kids every 6 months, kids who have the same body/feet ratio as professional basketball players or rabbits...because see unlike her tennis shoes, these shoes always need to fit juuuuuuuuuuust right, so she doesn't kick her shoes off during a performance into someone's teeth...

So this time I was smart-uh, smart-er, and I went straight to Amazon, and got her the best deals I could find, in the most generous size I could allow, for shoes that fit well yet won't become projectiles during a corner goal kick or a kick ball-change...

Yeah, I know some of you just can't wait to press "comment" and tell me about all the great deals I can get on used shoes but, sorry. Please don't judge but, other people's kids' sweaty, mashed-in toe jam used shoes are something I am not prepared for. However, if anyone is looking for barely used, completely lysol-ed out tap and ballet shoes in a size 11 1/2 with the name, "Audrey" written in permanent marker on the bottoms, let me know...

Vicious Dog Farts Will Not Keep Me Away From You...

So today a good friend asked me why, when she stepped out of her home, her neighborhood smelled like pastrami sandwiches. I could only think of one possible reason, so I said, "zombies?"

Which leads me to my next award post. Except this one has nothing to do with zombies, or chickens, or zombie chickens, but is probably much stinker and deadlier, this is all about dog farts.


Now, suffice to say, I have kids, and they are at that ripe old age where farting around everyone they know is still hysterically funny, to them, and, the smellier the better. They are even more pleased if they slip out a silent killer, you know, the ones that knock you down to the ground as you enter their airspace. And, instead of helping you, in case you have a mild concussion, they laugh at you, and their gaseous abilities.

Anyway, I say this only to acknowledge that the only thing worse than a silent kid fart is a dog fart.

Oh my goodness. There is something evil about the gas that comes out of a dog. And it doesn't matter their size I tell you. Our 7 pound chihuahua would melt the eyebrows right off of your face and destroy the cilia in your bronchial tubes. We would cry for days and consider staging an exorcism for him. No wonder I couldn't keep houseplants alive!

ANYWAY...this award goes to bloggers who write blog posts so dang well that I would walk through a cloud of noxious, skin-melting dog farts, to get to my computer, to read them. Of course it would make sense for me to grab a mask and say some prayers, but, if it came right down to it, I would brave the green cloud and the loss of my perfectly tweezed brows...and these blogs are:


The Lost in Suburbia Blog - Tracy, from whom this awesome award originated (and pray for her, she is a prisoner of raucously evil dog farts).

Much More Than Mommy - She uses WD40 a lot. Especially on Pizza Night.

E3P2s - A good friend who has become an even good-er friend, and she makes my brain run fast around the track, and she also has wickedly yummy fashion sense.

Speaking From The Crib - If there is such thing as a gangsta blogger, she's it.

Mass Hole Mommy - What can I say her blog title intrigued me, and now I am a fan.

The Retirement Chronicles - I covet her pictures and her camera...don't worry she knows this.

For Love or Funny - I love all her funny, even if she smells like a dead fish...

A Fabulously Good Life - She is fab, man. Seriously.

A Day in the life of a Suferwife - She is not a surfer herself, but a runner; my inspiration.

Wendiwinn - When I say, "where's the beef?" I find it right here. Every time.

The Creative Junkie - Her junk is creative. And it ain't junk.

How to Survive Life in the Suburbs - If I move to Canada, I want to live next to her.

Diary of a Mad Bathroom - She's gonna write a book about her uncle. I get the first copy...

Multitasker - I am nearly convinced she CAN do it all while making me laugh.

Hey Lola - We love zombies. It's a special bond.

Sounds Like Tomatoes - She would handle this whole dog fart dilemma with Febreze...

Crazy Thing Called Motherhood - Yoda. She knows what this means...

Stacy's Random Thoughts - It's a cornucopia of funness man...

Lulu's Sandbard - We sit at the same cool table...and man, she knows how to use a treadmill...

Adventures With Edward - Now, I do not like Twilight, but...I love this Ed, and when he crawls out of Kearsie's purse, awesome things happen...

So there you have it. Basically I have the constitution of a giant cockroach, because that is a lot of deleterious fumes to endure, should it stand in the way of any of these blogs...

Peace out ya'all.