Knock, Knock. Anybody Out There?

Today is a funny day.  I don't know why, but everything happening is hysterical to me, for no good reason.  Some of you may have read my blog post from earlier this morning.  I wrote it yesterday and scheduled it to post this morning.... very professional of me.  What you don't know is the incredibly silly thing I almost ran (very professionally) this morning.  Here's a couple of pics for you.....

  

Notice anything?  Anything popping out at you in an, 'one of these things is not like the other' way?

Yes.  You guessed it.  That's not the right sketch.  It's a glorious sketch, one that I printed out, and fully intended to create, but somehow, I created this other card instead.  The snowflake card has a sketch to it, and I searched online for quite some time to find the sketch associated with this card..... I had no luck.

So, in editing, I luckily actually LOOKED at the photos I was posting and noticed..... something isn't quite right.  

There you have it.  In a nutshell.  Thanks to whoever or whatever blog/website that offered me a sketch that I used to make the snowflake card.  I don't know who you are.

Likewise, thanks to the 'new to me' blog, the deconstructed sketch, because you guys have some pretty kick ass sketches..... one of these days I will actually print your challenge, create your challenge and post to your site.  Today is not that day.

Because I'm too busy laughing.

You should be laughing too.  If anyone is out there, reading this blog and all these stories of cards and projects..... you should laugh.  And, while you laugh, leave me a comment about your laughing.... and, don't be all, 'I'm gonna show her' and find the sketch for the snowflake card.... that's just spoiling every one's good time.

Peace out!

It's the getting home that's always hardest.....

Hello Blog Readers!

Today, I'm going to tell you a story of travel. It will be peppered with heavy amounts of sarcasm, so if you can't take the joke, don't read today.  You decide how much is true.  (It's all true.)

It all began at dark 4am.

Wake up!  Let's go to the airport!  Check in.  Security line.  Body scan. (Should I suck in for a skinnier silhouette?) Coffee.... Iced, so my tongue doesn't get burned.  Easy, non complicated boarding, take off and early arrival at the connecting airport.  Then, the wait for the gate.

Turn the phone on, check the time.  Our connecting flight is already boarding.  (Dang that time change!)  We are unloaded at B10.  The race is on.

"Your connecting flight is now loading at gate B93."

We run.

I'm being pulled by my husband.  We make use of 5 different moving sidewalks and two escalators down to the gate on the lowest level.  Just in time to watch the doors close.

We scream, "WAIT!  IT'S US!  YOU NEED US!"

Then, I begin to plead.  "Our seats, they're still available, just let us on this plane!  Please!  We're here!  We have all the appropriate documents for boarding!  We ran!  I might throw up from running!  We carried this box!  We're here now!  Your other plane is why we're late, we followed the rules......"

NO.

We're given standby tickets for the next flight.  $7 meal vouchers.  No apologies.  No awards for running.  No congratulations for NOT throwing up.  Not even a tissue.

We walk away from the gate. Dejected.  I'm crying.  Travel up two escalators.  Stand on 5 different moving sidewalks and up one escalator to the food area.  We have 9 hours to get a meal.  Have you ever eaten in an airport?  $7 meal vouchers?  Really?

We sleep.  We ride moving sidewalks.  We eat some more.  We laugh at people's funny socks, funny hair, funny everything.  I text, tweet and post stories of woe on Facebook.  We spend an embarrassing amount of time looking for the chairs with the outlets, only to discover the outlets are UNDER the chairs.  We feel accomplished.  Our devices charge to 100%.

We wait.

"Now boarding the next plane to your homeland."

We stand RIGHT NEXT to the gate agent.  We are number 1 on the standby list (and in his heart).  He keeps looking at us, nodding his assurance.  We will get on.  We will get on.

We did.

I was issued a ticket for the back of the plane, comfortably wedged between a window and a man I affectionately nick named, 'Stinky McNosepicker'.

Flight time: 1 hour 50 minutes

Stinky McNosepicker is a rebel.  He doesn't power down any device as instructed.  He tries the seat belt fake out.  He looks at babies with disdain. (Dude, I want to live! It's a rule.  Power down.)

He can't defeat level 43 of Candy Crush.

That's right my friends.  IF our plane would have crashed, it would have likely been due to one stinky man's inability to master Candy Crush.  Dude, our elbows touch.  I can see your weak gaming skills.  Do yourself a favor.  Shower.  Stop picking your nose.  Follow the rules and smile at babies.

GEEZ.

We fly 1 hour and 45 minutes through rain, lightening and thunder to arrive home to a dry homeland.

Irony much?

We deplane to discover our luggage made it on the earlier flight.  I try to register my complaint with the gate agent only to be interrupted and told that, "There's really nothing I can do.  The airline won't read any complaint.  There's no use telling me."

Okay.

My husband won't allow me to tattle on Stinky McNosepicker for not following the rules, so we board the shuttle to pick up our truck and drive home.

It's two days later, and my shin splints still hurt from the running.  No airline or travel agency cares we were unconvinced.  It's part of it.

Really?

I can laugh (a little) about it now, but at the time, it was NOT funny.  I can't help but wonder..... would a tiny touch of common sense, kindness and grace helped my situation?

I have common sense, but I still ran to try and catch that plane.

I am kind often, but I still wanted to punch the gate agent that shut the door on us smack in the face.

I work on the grace thing.  It's tough.  I don't think I gave out any grace at that airport, but I'm sure it was extended to me from other stranded passengers.

Possibly someone nick named me, Crybaby McPouter.

I should ask the Googles.

Shopping

Today, I spent a large part of the day shopping. Not for anything particular, just browsing around the clothing stores. I was on my last stop of the day. I rode the escalator up to the second floor at a popular department store in the nearby town, right behind a very cute older retired couple. They were sharply dressed in pressed khakis and matching green polo shirts. They were all tucked in with clean sneakers. He was holding her back very gently so she wouldn’t fall off the escalator, and I thought to myself, ‘That is the sweetest thing!’



Later, I was perusing a discount rack (I rarely buy things full price) in the very hippy cool department, when the very same couple walked by. I was holding a very pretty on sale blouse from OneWorld ™ and considering it very carefully, when I hear the old woman say to her husband, ‘Look at these horrible clothes. It’s like circus wear or Halloween costumes.’



She shakes her head in disgust and motions wildly toward the whole department then; they descended the escalator and were out of sight. I stood there, a little puzzled. Do you think she didn’t see me looking at the hippy cool clothes? Or, maybe she didn’t think I would dare purchase a blouse intended for the circus or Halloween? I’m not a small person, and I don’t really blend into any backgrounds very often, so I have to assume she saw me.



Hmmm, I thought to myself. Am I possibly wrong about this blouse?



In true Sassy fashion, I purchased the super cool hippy top and I can’t wait to wear it everywhere important this summer. I sure hope I run into that lady again. I’m going to thank her for the shopping advice.

** Edited to add:

Blog stalkers, I looked for a photo online of the exact blouse I bought, but didn't find it in the same color I purchased.  Here is their website.


I have actually purchased two blouses from this label, and I really enjoy both tops!  Unique, pretty, original and not at all suitable for a Halloween costume.  (Unless you might be dressing up as an example of awesome!)

Twenty Minutes as a Responsible Driver

 

Hello Blog-Stalkers!  I know you are surprised to know that I had a moment of being a responsible driver.  I did not allow road rage to consume me.  I was a wise, non hand-gesturing driver for just over 20 minutes.

 

Today, driving to town on a busy FM hwy, I had the unfortunate luck to get behind a farm truck pulling a large, very old trailer.  The trailer had no tail gate type device to hold the contents of the trailer INSIDE the trailer, and nothing inside the trailer was tied down.  The trailer was holding a large variety of metal type objects, obviously headed to the junk yard.

This is a dilemma.  I can’t drive too close, or some of that junk is gonna fall out and hit my car, and I can’t pass because the road is very busy and dangerous.  So, I followed behind at a safe distance going WAY below the speed limit.  It wasn’t long before I had quite a line of vehicles behind me.  (Most of them suburbans, but I’m trying not to judge.)

At that moment in time, I had five delightful boys riding with me.  All of them better drivers than myself.  All of them eager to give their driving advice.

“Why are we going so slow?”

“What’s that in that guy’s trailer?”

“Is that a fire hydrant?  Hey!  I think he has an old fire hydrant in the back of that trailer!”  “If it falls out, can we stop and pick it up?”

“Whoa, mom, look at all the cars behind us.”

We’re going so slowly because of that full trailer ahead of us.  None of that stuff is tied down, and it’s about to fall out the back, and I don’t want it to hit my car.  Yes, I think that’s an old fire hydrant and no, we aren’t going to stop and pick it up when it falls out.  I think he’ll know when it falls out.  Yes, I see all those cars behind us.  Don’t look at them; they’re signaling my number one status.

So, onward we go, 5 more miles. 

IN MY MIND: Seriously.  Lady, can’t you see the trailer in front of me.  Being 6 inches from my back bumper isn’t going to speed me up.  I’m already late.  I don’t have anything to lose by going this slow.  In fact, I can keep it up all day. 

Brown suburban turns.

IN MY MIND: Whew!  Glad that’s over. 

Onward we go, 5 more miles.

IN MY MIND:  Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.  Red suburban, really?  Kind gestures won’t speed me up.  Can’t you see that fire hydrant is about to fall out of that guy’s trailer?  I’m already late.  I don’t have anything to lose by going even more SLOWLY.

Onward we go, 2 more miles.

Finally, I reach my turn.  I enter the turning lane, and make my safe left turn while the truck and trailer go straight ahead.  The red suburban has turned her attention to hand gesturing to the truck now, and doesn’t see the fire hydrant fall out of the back of the trailer.

No joke.

Thank you Karma!

One boy says, “OH MOM!  The fire hydrant fell out of the back of the trailer!  Can we please go back and pick it up?”

Another boy says, “HA! HA!  Did you see that suburban swerve?”

Yet another boy says, “NOW I see how pot holes are made in the new roads. Hmmm… that sorta stinks for the rest of the cars.”

Yes, we were a little late.  Sometimes, when you drive responsibly that happens.

Off the Top of My Head. For No Good Reason.

This morning I'm busy finishing up about 900 thousand loads of laundry. I'm not exaggerating. I suddenly thought of some stuff.

 1. Dear underwire in every bra I own,

If you're not strong enough to survive a little sloshing around in a washing machine, then you certainly are not strong enough to survive real life. I'm a mother of teenagers. I go places and do things much more difficult than one brief swishy ride in a washing machine. Toughen up!  And, also? Be cheaper. I need to replace you more often.

2. Something funny happened during the mammogram.

I'm standing, completely topless, boob smashed into a machine, holding my breath and grasping the handle for dear life..... at that exact moment, the mammogram technician complemented my hair.

3.  Happy Monday after Thanksgiving!

Back to School -- Pros & Cons

Oh yeah, baby. Back to school.



Pro - Back to routine. Back to normal. Back to some body else being cruise director for my busy boys. Blissfully quiet house.

Con - Setting my alarm clock every morning.



Pro - Friday Night Lights! Football fun! Band crazies! Pep rally mania! Blissfully quiet house.

Con - 95% of my laundry will be green/black.



Pro - Coffee meetings with friends. Lunches with friends. Shopping with friends. (Only on the days I'm not enjoying my blissfully quiet house.)

Con - Sub days (a 'con' that I will enjoy this year!) **fingers crossed**



Pro - Did I mention the blissfully quiet house?

Con - Well, that turns into a con at about week 15.



Adios boys! I want all the details when you get home!

The Substitute Nail Place

I pledge allegiance, to my original beauty shop, the one and only good place to go.

Except when your sister in law forgets about you.

There have been only a couple times in the last 25 or so years that I've been forgotten at the beauty shop. Those times always have two accountable parties. Me. and She. The both of us. One time we blamed the 'force'. A temporary disturbance in the 'force' made us both forget.

Is a forgotten nail appointment by two people even an appointment at all? I digress.....

We're both doing a lot of different stuff, and family members, close friends and an occasional on-looker CLAIM there's some issues involving early onset dementia, so.... sometimes really important nail appointments get forgotten. And, as she will tell you, 'Family gets you nowhere around here.'

I'd like to raise my hands with an Amen to that statement. Sorry... digressing again.

So, because of a whole lot of un-fore-seen and forgotten reasons, I had to go to the substitute nail place. Twice. Whatever.... the second time is the funny story.

I arrived at the substitute nail place only 30 short minutes after it opened. Several, if not nearly all, of the chairs were already filled. This is the really good substitute nail place. PrissE recommended it for emergencies. I'm safe here.

I step to the counter, and request an acrylic nail fill. Tim (name changed to protect his innocence) says, 'Let me see you nails.'

I obeyed.

Tim has a furrowed brow as he says, 'You wait 10 minutes.'

Again, I obeyed.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Tim says, 'You sit chair 2.'

I obeyed. While placing MY OWN POLISH I BROUGHT FROM HOME at my station. Tim sits down, motions for me to give him my hands..... I obeyed (this is not my first nail rodeo). Tim then tells me that it's going to cost $2 more because of my solar nails.

Me: No, they are a-cry-lic nails. (I speak louder and slower when conversing with the Vietnamese.)

Tim: Oh. You do them yourself?

Me: No.

Tim: Oh. You friend do them?

Me: No. (Because, I'm not at the substitute nail place to let every person in the universe know my life story. Or, from whence other beauty shop I came.)

Tim: Oh. Still $2 more.

Me: Alright, but they are professionally done. They are acrylic nails. Premium Powders to be exact. The pink and the white.

Tim: These nails bad. Very bad. All crooked. Lines no good.

Me: Thanks. My regular nail girl will be excited to know your opinion of her work.

Lady beside me laughs out loud. In a big LOL fashion, as we both make faces.

Tim: You go chair 4.

I obeyed.

New nail guy has very little to say. Fills in my acrylic nails, buffs and shapes them, tells me to wash then, new nail guy leaves.

I return to chair 4, where the new nail lady polishes my nails, WITH MY OWN POLISH I BROUGHT FROM HOME, then begins to tell me that the polish doesn't look good. She recommends I use something else. I explain to her, in my slow talk, that I want this specific color because it will be pretty at my sister's wedding.

She's quiet for a moment, then with her most ugly wrinkled up face tells me that I 'need brows done, look too bushy.'

Now, I'm smiling because I think PrissE is having me 'punked' at the substitute nail place, so I decline a wax ripping off procedure and leave.

Later that day, in the car I reflected on the genius of the substitute nail place. They basically insult you until you concede to their procedures. It totally worked! Nail lady ripped 3 sets of eye brows while I was there, just by telling the gals they looked bushy.

It's fascinating.

Ya'll please don't tell my sister in law to insult me. She'll forget what she said, and I'll leave with the wrong procedure. No one wins in the insulting-dementia relationship.

Door to Door Lies

One beautiful evening, at the end of one horribly nasty attitude of a day, I had just snuggled into my comfortable chair (with the foot feet up) when there was a ring at the door. I was irritated, but I paused DWTS, and answered the door. Cute little gal informs me that she’s been sent from the State to test my water quality. Her fees have been paid by her company, could her team please check my water. They would need to enter my home and use my kitchen sink.

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

Water tester dude, spends about 20 minutes testing my sink water and discussing his preliminary results with Fox, Mav and the Bossman. I was home, just in the other room listening to this ….. FREAKIN’ SALES PITCH!

As each minute passes, I grow more and more disgruntled. I receive a text message from Jag, politely requesting that I pick him up from his school sponsored activity, so I slipped my sneaks on. I was headed out the back door when I stopped, cleared my throat, and asked the water tester dude one simple question.

“How much longer is this going to take?”

His reply stunned me as much as it horrified me.

“Just about another HOUR AND A HALF or so.”

It became uncharacteristically quiet in my home as I looked at the unfortunate dude and said quietly, “I’m about to leave to pick up my oldest son. I’m going to be gone approximately 7 minutes. You better be gone when I get home.”

Then, I left.

The Bossman tells me that the water tester dude looked at him with wide scared eyes. Bossman just said, “You heard her.” Then, Fox chimed in, “That’s what she said.” (Because he’s fixated on the television show, ‘the office’.)

It worked. He was running down our side street to meet up with his 'team' when I rounded the corner to come home.

People, don't spread your lies during DWTS.

*Cough* I'm having trouble breathing.

Ever feel like everyone around you is wearing big heavy boots and they're pressing them down on your neck?

No?

It's just me?

In my most 'not complaining' voice, I'd like to suggest maybe some of you shouldn't wear those heavy boots right now.... it's spring and I'm terribly worried your feet will get sweaty.

Horrible doesn't seem like a strong enough word to describe the things that happened in my life before 8am this morning. Strangly, they pale in comparison to what's waiting for me on the other side of 10am.

Dramatic much?

Declaration of the day: I promise to only use the word 'horrible' to describe sand storms, fires and movies.... from now on.

Starting tomorrow.

That's what they said.

I thought it'd be funny this morning to share some things that people have said to me recently..... for the record, I remained mostly calm in all these examples.

Does this mean I'm maturing? Nah......

Some random child asked:
"Is there anyway I can get some clean underwear before tomorrow?"


Some random teacher was 'asking me for a favor' when she said:
"What are you doing 8th period?"

me: "Going home. I have a conference."

"But, you're being paid for the whole day, right?"


Some random idiot said:
"The birthday party went really well, except Fox just wouldn't stop eating! He ate 5 pieces of pizza!!"

I couldn't control myself (because, you better leave my babies alone), so I asked, "Is that all? What? Did you run out or something? I know these parties are expensive, but the children need to eat."

Finally, I have to share a moment in BFF history. I was wondering out loud to PrissE about what we should wear to an upcoming social event.....

me: "I was thinking hats would be fun. But, I don't even have a hat, and I don't want to turn this into a costume event."

PrissE: "I have hats."

me: "Hats it is!"

See? Sometimes all you need is a 'partner in crime' to make everything all 'normal' again.

Wait..... What's normal again?

one of those days...

Yep, ever had one? Me too. Today.

It's made me feel like listing some stuff I'm no longer gonna tolerate.

I might, or I might not use correct punctuation anymore. Because my friend Hector said why be stifled by rules we weren't meant to follow. It could interfere with my (or Hector's or someone else's) right to free expression.

Word.

And, so right. Ending marks have long been an enemy to the free spirit.

If I don't like you, I'm not gonna pretend like I do. Look out. I mean it. And, if that means I push an occasional adult into a snow bank. Okay.

If I do like you, I might hug you for no reason. Or, I might make up some reason for us to have an inside joke. I'm not gonna tell anyone else what our joke means. If you also like me, then you might decide to do the right thing. All on your own. We'll see.

There's a good chance I'm going to relate everything that happens in my life to a Seinfeld episode. I'm probably gonna quote that show often, and in out of context ways. Deal.

Or, don't deal. If you chose the don't option, then don't walk with me in the snow.

Or by a pool. Just thinking ahead.

I may never wear pantyhose again. Just because I don't feel like it.

I've decided that because I'm old enough to have friends that are grandparents, I'm no longer obligated for the local rumor mill. Everybody hold on to your slot on the wheel, I'm bailing off.

"I don't like this, and this is what I'm doing with it!" >(toupee out the window)

Quote of the post: "In the depth of winter, I finally realized that within me lay an invincible summer." ~~ Albert Camus

Winter parenting, 101

First, I'd like to say to all the teachers at my children's school, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry that you've got to go into that building today and deal with a roomful of children that are hopped up on crazy. Because it's never been this cold here in twenty-bazillion years, and there's ice and it snowed, and all that makes the children go bonkers.

Next, I'd like to say, better YOU than ME. I pay taxes. Get yourselves to my free full time daycare, so I can maintain the level of sanity that I've grown accustomed to.

Don't judge me.

Here's what it looks like from inside my garage looking out, straight at my front porch.




Here's what my backyard looks like. (Picture taken from inside my warm house, looking out the back window.)




Dear children, how do you feel about going to school on this, the coldest day in twenty-bazillion years?




Here's what I said to my friend, Amy, in an email this morning, when she was shocked that we only had a two hour delay. Everything in her area is closed, including the airport.

I know! But, can I be completely honest?!? My idiot children got up, ON THEIR OWN, at regular time, and have been acting like stupid little shits for about an hour and a half, so them going to school is probably going to save their little lives.

But, because LISD closed, the teacher workshops were cancelled, so I don't have
to sub. I only have to get bundled up long enough to drive the 200 yards to
school and drop off my children to a building full of grouchy and mean teachers
who are all over FB this morning complaining about not being cancelled.

Yep! Life is good.

It is bitterly cold, and I worry about this decision to have school, but it's
not up to me. So far, we are blessed to have a working heater and plenty of
blankets! We haven't had any frozen pipes, and we're plugging along as if we
know what to do in the cold.

And, my beautiful husband cleaned out one side of the garage, so my car is safe
and warm inside the garage! yay! yay! yay!!!

Go on children, make mommy proud.




In a cruel twist of irony, I'm being "plan B'd" at this very moment. I've been called to sub for a teacher who is, "taking a personal day, because of the cold."

Incredible shrinking mom.

I just wanted to take a moment to alert everyone. In case you didn't notice. I'm shrinking. Hopefully, not in an osteoporosis way, but more in a 'my babies are bigger than me' way.

Exhibit A.




Handsome much?

You know your life is taking an odd swing, when you sit down in your car and notice a seat adjustment. The seat is way, way back. In a way that makes my feet not touch the pedals.

Then, just as I'm wondering out loud, who in the sam hill adjusted the seat..... the 12 year old reminds me of a driving lesson with his dad.

Hello?

You're 12 years old. Stop adjusting my car seat.

And, practice driving in Dad's car.

And, lean down here so you can hear me.

I need a nap. And, some Vitamin D.

Fingerprinting 101

I watch almost every episode of 'Law & Order'. I recently saw an episode that showed the bad guy being fingerprinted with this cool scanner thing. The prints showed up instantly on the computer screen! So, when I found out that I needed to be fingerprinted as a requirement to continue working at school, I was so excited!

The first step to being fingerprinted, was to log on to the secret company's website and fill out a questionnaire. I thought it would be a breeze, because..... after all, who knows me better than, well, me! I'm answering the obvious questions. No problem.

Then, for no obvious reason to me, I was asked..... What is your hair color? They gave me several choices, but I had no idea what to answer because right now, my hair is blonde-ish.... tomorrow afternoon, my hair will be copper (not red), but this time last year, my hair was a dark brunette. No one has clear recollection of what my 'original' hair color was, and I wasn't given the option to click, 'random', so I was stumped! I answered, 'brown', and just prayed the federal government would accept that.

I arrived this morning at the secret company's office and checked in. The office lady was finishing up with the appointment before me, so she asked me to take a seat and wait a few minutes.

While I was waiting, I could hear the conversation between the office lady and the customer being fingerprinted.

Ofc Lady: You're gonna have to come back. Your fingerprints are all smudgy and blurry.
Customer: Ok. What does that mean? Why are my prints smudgy and blurry?
Ofc Lady: Well, you've spent all these year pushing papers at the school, and your prints are worn off. You need to use plenty of moisturizer and drink a lot of water and come back in two weeks. They need at least 8 good prints from you, and I can tell you that none of these are good.

The customer exits the area, looks at me, and wishes me luck.

Keep in mind, that I've been watching Law & Order, so I've got a pretty good idea that I'm going to be arrested as soon as the office lady sees that I don't have brown hair.

Slightly freaked out, I enter the area when my name is called. She's prepared the computer and tells me to enter my social security number. She then shows me the keypad and turns her head. No joke. So she can't see me enter my number. When that's complete, she repeats the social security procedure, and all I can think is, 'this is nothing like Law & Order.'

I'm starting to crack myself up, and I start to giggle for no apparent reason. The lady then takes my finger prints. First all fingers together, each hand. Then, all fingers separate, each hand. Then, each finger separate, rolling them slowly. During this procedure, she tells me,

"You've got really good finger prints. They're nice and clear! Look at your clean lines. If you ever do anything or get lost, the authorities will find you easily."

Well, after that statement, there was no way I could keep it together! I begin to laugh hysterically! I can't believe my good luck! If I ever get lost, my fingerprints will easily identify me!

The next step to the fingerprinting procedure is to have your picture taken. I've appropriately dolled up with lip gloss and I'm ready for my snapshot, when the lady tells me, 'don't smile.'

Well, this is a GIANT problem, because I'm already laughing! I can't hold it together, and I ask why can't I smile?

'The government is only interested in your eyes. They need a good shot of your eyes.'

She gives me a minute to stop laughing. Then, snaps the photo.

I'm sure they won't give me the picture to post on this blog, but if you can imagine me, holding my mouth shut and straining to hold my GIANT eyes wide open.... that's my mug shot.

During this whole process, the office lady never once laughed. She never asked me why I was laughing and she refused to re-take my mug shot! She wished me a good afternoon, and I left. I was only mad when I got to my car and realized I forgot to ask the obvious question.

If they were gonna take my mug shot. Why did I have to answer that question about my hair color?

Blog stalkers.... I need a favor. If I'm ever lost, for any reason, please don't let the authorities put that mug shot on TV to search for me.

six words that describe you

My sister is really smart. She also happens to be a teacher, and recently gave this assignment to her students. I'm completely fascinated with this assignment. I keep on thinking of six words that describe other people.

My sister made this fancy presentation with music and everything, with tons of great examples of this assignment. I'll post it, if I can get her permission and figure out how to put videos on this here blog.

Till then, this is what I came up with.

'Labeled by the school. Succeeding anyway.'

This assignment can be powerful!

I sit around all the time now, and try to think up some great words to describe my life. I've discovered that my six words can change daily. Even hourly, or by the minute depending on what kind of day I'm having.

I think the best one so far has got to be:

'my life is not for everyone.'

Now, I just need some really great picture of me hanging upside down from the monkey bars, wearing a prom dress, shorts and some great pair of red sneaks. Just as soon as I make that happen, I'll post it. Until then.....

Listing the really annoying.

In no particular order:

1. Reading the TV guide to me as I am also reading it and scrolling down. Who here remembers the TV Guide that used to come in the Sunday paper? I do. At my house, we saved that TV Guide, and no one dare lose it! We studied it from front cover to back, marking our favorite shows, and flagging things not to be forgotten. NOW, we have the interactive TV Guide scrolling down the TV in real time. YAY! Or not. Guess what children? I can read it. I will select something I like without you narrating the actual scroll down. Get busy with the shutting up.

2. Don’t poke me in the shoulder. Really? Don’t poke me anywhere, but ESPECIALLY in the shoulder. ‘nuf said.

3. Don’t walk in front of me, and then stop. I’m pretty sure I’ve complained about this behavior before, but it didn’t seem to work then, so I’ll try one more jaunt down the bitchy alley. Walk beside me, or wait for me in the car.

4. If you’d like to ask me a question about what activities I’ve got scheduled, just come right out with the question. Don’t quiz me first, to see if I might be available. Put on your big girl panties, and come right out with the request, and then take the response I give you. Guilt is a two way street, and I’m really getting good at it. Plus, it rarely works on me, because I’m mostly mean.

5. If I’d like to wish you a ‘Happy Holidays’, it’s not because I don’t love Jesus. ‘Merry Christmas’ to you, and also ‘Happy New Year’, but since I’m mostly lazy, ‘Happy Holidays’ covers everything with fewer words. I won’t be judged by you or your misguided holiday wishes. You can go right ahead and frown and scowl at my ‘Happy Holidays’, but you’re missing the point.

My life isn’t for everyone.

Get ready for a more honest blog.

Do you know what's in your heart?

Folks, I'm not talking about heart disease or anything like that. I'm wondering... do you know what's in your heart?

I do. I know and love Jesus. That's in my heart. If He's not in your heart, we can talk about that.

Let's get to some smaller ideas. Is home in your heart? Maybe. Lately, I haven't felt very much at home in my community or at my school or at my church. These are all just places, but always before, I held them in my heart. Really cherishing them. I always saw myself growing old here with the Bossman. The two of us wiping gin dust from the counter for the rest of our lives. Now, that's not necessarily what I see. I wonder where we might park our rocking chairs. I know that place will have flawed neighbors too. All places have their own flaws.

I'm ready to tell you a true story. I broke the law. I was given a ticket. I'm not above the law, not at all, and I've already paid my ticket. I wouldn't for one moment fault the officer for pulling me over. It's true, I was going 25 in a 20. I got the ticket I deserved.

What makes me feel, 'not at home', is that the officer didn't treat me like a neighbor. He is literally, in a physical sense, my neighbor. I guess it's too much for me to expect that I would be treated like a neighbor, because I broke the law.

The ladies in the office where I paid the ticket didn't treat me like a neighbor either. That sort of hurt my feelings. I guess if you speed, you're not a neighbor anymore?

I don't feel at home at my school right now either. There aren't a lot of specific examples of 'why', it's just a feeling I have. Maybe I'm being too sensitive. Maybe I expect too much. I promise, I'm not hormonal. I'm just sharing what's in my heart right now.

I certainly don't feel at home or part of a family at my church. There are many changes happening within our church's ministries and changes can be upsetting. It's hard to always remember that church people are just people, and people are flawed. I wonder how the apostles traveled around so much with Jesus, talking to all the church people without constantly being frustrated. They were just people. In the end, many betrayed Jesus.

I'm not saying I'm Jesus. Please don't read that in this post. I know I'm just a person, with my own list of flaws. In fact, some say it's a really long list. Now, that list includes 'lady who speeds.'

I guess some people will still consider me a neighbor, even with the speeding ticket. Some people will gossip about me. That's alright too. Some people will prove to me that they aren't now, and never really were my neighbor. That information is probably good for me to learn now.

I think that people at my school and church will also, over time, prove to me if I'm part of their family, or any sort of a neighbor. I think I'll also learn if I'm a good neighbor. Maybe, I'm not.

I know what's in my heart. I know home is in there. Just now, without the walls. Maybe that's the blessing I needed to learn.

Week in Review: A list of oddities

1. I have received 23 text messages from my teenager in the past two days with zero words spelled correctly. I can read all of them.

2. I found out that 5th grade math is too hard for me.

3. One of my pre teens just informed me that his nostrils whisper to him and tell him to raise his arms up and wave them around during classes at school when he is bored.

4. My other pre teen has started greeting me by saying, 'Hey baby, how 'ya doin'?' Complete with nostril flare.

5. I tripped walking in flip flops. Twice.

6. It's cool enough now, that I've worn jeans two days in a row. Both of those days, my husband told me I had a 'nice ass'.

7. Three boys asked me to paint green/black RHS on their chests for the Friday night football game.



Not these three.

Life is short, wear striped panties.

SEVERAL months ago, PrissE and I were spending a lovely sun-filled day at the pool with our whole bunch of children, when one of PrissE's friends from her new school stopped by. We visited some, had the proper introductions (I can't remember her name now) and said goodbye.

As PrissE's new school friend left, I commented that as a grown woman, shouldn't that lady know that she was wearing striped panties underneath her very stylish white Bermuda shorts?

The two of us laughed.... only briefly, as we pondered how many people would see that friend all over town as she ran her errands. Otherwise, perfectly made up, and obviously ready for a fun-filled summer afternoon of activities.

It was a brief moment in our lives, but I remember it.

Yesterday, I knew it was laundry day because there was ONE lone pair of panties in my drawer. I was very thankful that one pair was left, and being proud of general good hygiene sense, I slipped that pair of panties on. I finished off my Saturday outfit with some turquoise capri pants, a cute red t shirt, and my new sneaks before dashing to the grocery store.

I went to Walgreens, Michael's, the gas station and the United Grocery store, before heading home with my carload of purchases. It was only as I was unloading the car that a child asked me if I always wore striped panties on Saturday.

I just paused briefly before replying,

'Not always.... today is a special Saturday.'

Morning Errands with a Former Non-Blonde.

Today's first stop is the oil change place. Easy enough. I pull in and roll my car window down. The guy greets me and asks me a question, 'Mornin', here for an oil change?'

(Okay, I'll play along.)

'You bet! I also need the air in my tires checked. I think these two are low.' (As I point to the two driver's side tires.) Second guy says to me, 'Hey! Did you know these two tires are low?' (I wonder.... is he giving me an unsolicited commentary on my weight? Is PrissE trying to 'punk' me? What's happening?)

(All bets are off now.)

I tell him, 'Yep! I sure did! That's why I came in here! Guess what? Did you know that you're holding an air hose?' Man stands there, grinning, with a puzzled look on his face and says, 'Yes Ma'am.' So I tell him, 'See? It's like destiny has brought us together.... me, with my low tires, and you, with your air hose. See what you can do.'

All the time, I'm thinking to myself.... where's Bill Engval when you need him. (The 'Here's your sign' guy.)

Next stop.... well, all the rest of the stops were pretty uneventful. Boring even. I could make some stuff up to tell you. It might even be slightly funny, but it wouldn't feel real. I'm dedicated to the honesty of today's errands.

That first stop at the oil change place has kept me in a grin all morning long! How much do we love the oil change guys!? Grimy hands, saggy pants, and always big grins on their faces. Sometimes, holding their sign.