Friday, April 30, 2010

Letters to Juliet and Noisy Old Men

Last night I got to attend an advanced screening of the movie "Letters to Juliet."  I got invited because...

A. I am cool like that and get invited to all A list premiers in Las Vegas
B. I signed up with like any loser with a email address can do.

So my sis-in-law (who is my second favorite date) and I felt pretty fancy attending this screening, for free, in a theater with rows reserved for fancy press people.  Though they looked no fancier than me.  We were told if we liked the movie, to tell everyone we know.  And if we did not like the movie to keep our mouths shut.  And there were some folks after the movie that were hearing opinions.  (So when you see the ad for Letters to Juliet, with the quote "I laughed. I cried. It moved me" that was me).

It was a packed house, because of all the losers with email addresses who like a free movies, even if it was only rated PG.  We got the only two seats left together, which put me right to next to Old-Man-With-Cane-And-Jean-Shorts.  The second the movie started so did the noises.  Old man noises.  Grunts, hums and haws, lip smacking and a mysterious whistle/laughing sound at inappropriate times.  And then there was the loud popcorn eating like every bite was an effort to keep his dentures in. And this went on EVERY 5 SECS FOR THE ENTIRE MOVIE.  I let my SIL know what I was up against and when she heard him we giggled like schoolgirls hearing their teacher fart for the first time.

So besides the very-annoying-but-probably-someone's-grandpa next to me, I loved the movie. It stars the cute Amanda Seyfried (from Mama Mia and Dear John).  She goes on a journey through Italy to help a Grandma, played by the aging-beautifully-without-botox Vanessa Redgrave, find her lost love of 50 years ago.  Her grandson, played by newcomer Christopher Egan, reminded me of a young Heath Ledger. Ahhhh, Heath.....

It is one of those location movies that make me want to move to Italy, grow grapes, and eat  bread and cheese outside every night while watching the sunset.  The scenery was amazing and the storyline was sooooo romantic.   It was squeaky clean (no sex, no swear words. Gasp!) and the music of Colbie Caillat and Taylor Swift was perfect. It will appeal to an older generation as well since it emphasizes that love is ageless. So yes there are 70 yr olds kissing in this movie, which made the noises next to me even louder.

At the end both my SIL and I sighed that sigh of "Oh if real life was only so romantic." As Old-Man-With-Cane-And-Jean-Shorts stood up his bum was only inches from my face.  And then all I could think was, "Please don't fart. Please don't fart."  It would have ruined a perfectly good free movie.


Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Shift Work Disorder, a.k.a., MOTHERHOOD!

Science today loves putting a name on everything.   I heard about a "new" disorder yesterday called Shift Work Disorder.  It is caused when your body's sleep clock is thrown off by your work schedule. 

Symptoms include:

*Disrupted sleep schedule
*Difficulty in personal relationships
*Irritability or depressed mood
*Reduced work performance
*Sleepiness at work

Why do all those sound familiar?  Oh yea, it sounds like my life for the last 19 years, also known as MOTHERHOOD!  This is not a new disorder, just an unnamed one.  I think all mom's could be diagnosed with Shift Work Disorder.  Whether working outside the home or in the home, it is a 24/7 job.  But I think the newly named disorder is missing a few symptoms as far as moms are concerned.

These would include:

* Inability to sleep without reading Go Dog Go
* Insatiable appetite for chocolate. All. Day. Long.
* The ability to down 32 oz of Diet Coke before 10 a.m.
* Driving the kids to school, piano lessons, dentist, dance lessons, soccer and not ever remember doing it.
* Eating all day long without ever sitting down.
* Going to the grocery store daily and still have nothing for dinner.
* Playing Candyland and feeling competitive
* Using Yo Gabba Gabba as your exercise routine.
* Not wearing make-up or a bra all day long and calling it a fashion statement.  
* Choosing sleep over sex, or sleeping through sex.  Whatever works.  

This "disorder" has been around since Mother Eve and is not going anywhere.  And Mother's will keep pushing through with every tool in their arsenal that they can.  


Tuesday, April 27, 2010

20 years ago today...

...after a whirlwind romance...
(Hoover Damn.  One of our first dates)

...and a short engagement...
(Wearing a dress borrowed from my roommate which got fake wine spilled on it)

...and after we put this picture on our wedding anouncements...
(Notice, matching jeans, sweaters and haircuts)

...I got picked up in this Limo...
(Yes, that is a Motel 6 where I stayed with my parents the night before I got married)

...and I put on this dress...

...and I married this man, in this temple...

...and kissed my "husband" for the first time...
(You can really the see the matching haircuts in this pic)

...and I made my two BFFs wear these dresses...
(Sea foam green and mauve, the greatest wedding colors EVER!)

..and my hubby sang "Sweet Leilani"  while accompanied by his dad on the ukelele...
(Leilani is my middle name, so it was very romantic!)

...and there was a cake that looked like this...

...that we smashed in each other's faces like this...
(they say that is a sign of what your marriage will be like.  So, so true...)

...and then we looked like this..

...then we climbed in our diesel Rabbit...

...and rode away into the sunset...

...and we started making babies...

...and more babies...

...and more babies

...and more babies...

...and another one...

...and one more for good measure...

...and we lived...

...happily every after....

Happy 20th Anniversary Babe.  I love you.  Here is to 20 more!


Monday, April 26, 2010

Credit given to the Goddess of Funny Email Forwards

My daughter forwarded me this list.  I thought it was great and I wanted to share.  I don’t know who to give credit to, except the Goddess of Funny Email Forwards.  She is not to be confused with the Goddess of  Inspirational Email Forwards with Rainbows and Puppies, and the Goddess of False Email Warnings about a Virus that will Attack your Computer if you Open Anything from a Guy Named Bubba. 

My own original thoughts are in parentheses.

Thoughts to ponder:

 1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer's history if you die. (and clean out your underwear drawers of anything you want your kids to never see)

   2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize          you're wrong. (If I ever have that moment I will let you know)

3.I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
(I am totally trying to make up for it with my Sunday afternoon naps)

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. ( I think my blog would be entirely in that font)

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? (You don’t. It just gets shoved in the corner of the linen closet)

6. Was learning cursive really necessary? (Only if you want to send a fancy note to someone fancy)

7. Map Quest needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood. (Yea, you would think. But when driving with my teenagers I think steps 1-4 are very necessary)

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. (I have also thought this!  Not in a morbid way but in a way of important things to avoid doing so you don’t meet the same fate)

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired. (I think it was June, 1979)

10. Bad decisions make good stories. (And good blog posts!)

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day. (It usually strikes around 9:30 am at my house)

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again. ( I still have cassette tapes with NOTHING to play them on!)

13.. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to the ten-page paper that I swear I did not make any changes to. (I just say yes, save changes, and hope those changes weren’t stupid)

14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -- ever. (Yes. That is what it SHOULD mean. But sometimes I think I know better.  And it turns out, I don’t)

15. I hate it when I miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello?), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run like hell????
(my husband will call the home phone and hang up after 3 rings, after I have run to answer it.  He then calls my cell phone which I then have to run and find.  It makes me want to cuss)

16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste. (Amen sista.  One of my favorite lines from Pretty in Pink “don’t waste good lip gloss.”)

17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. (If my mother-in-law is reading this, it isn’t true!)

18. My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Mom, what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How do I respond to that? (I would say Ninjas are worth 100 pts. If it is a Ninja Turtle 200 pts.)

19. I think the freezer deserves a light as well…(I actually checked, and mine has one.  That way I can see the frozen  cookie dough better when I reach in to grab a morsel)

20. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Saturday night more kisses begin with Budweiser than Kay.
 ( On our Saturday nights kisses begin in front of the TV and if there is nothing good on, they contintue!)


Thursday, April 22, 2010

A double standard I can live with...(again!)

 (Back by popular demand is this post that I deleted yesterday.  I decided it was okay to feel this way and express it.  If it offends you… then put on your jammies, eat ice-cream, and think happier thoughts!)

Last fall while family was visiting I prepared for a girls night out with my nieces and daughters.  I made us all t-shirts.  T-shirts with hot guys on them half my age.   We had talked about this night for a long time and I wanted to make it special.  We were going to see the second movie in the Twilight saga, New Moon.  Some of us had read the books, some had not.  It didn’t matter.  We all liked the movies and the guys in them.  We had a great time.  The best moment was when the character Jacob Black was shirtless, in the rain, and my then 14yr old daughter leaned over to me and said, “ This is the best scene in any movie ever.”  Ah, young hormones.  But it was not hurting my eyes either. 

That night represents a great double standard in our society.  If the men in our family, including my husband had gone out together to see Dukes of Hazzard in Jessica Simpson t-shirts, we would have called them pigs and they would have been sleeping on the floor.  Women are allowed to ogle. Men are not.  Women are allowed a new celebrity crush every week and pass around emails of who’s hot and who’s not (I have seen them!)  Women can sit, on their girl’s night out, and talk about McDreamy and McSteamy.  (Hey I know you do! Do not deny it!) If men ogle, hoot and holler, watch movies or TV shows JUST for the female hotness, they could be considered sexist scum. (Hey I don’t make the rules)!

I am sure there are lots of books written on this subject.  I have not read any of them. These are just the thoughts from my own pea brain.  I think men, in general, have earned their lack of rights to be sexist. Throughout the ages men have shown what they are capable of.  And most recently Tiger Woods put the icing on philandering cake. 

Now don’t get me wrong.  I am not a man hater.  Quite the opposite.  I love men of all shapes and sizes.  My hubby does not need my permission to notice a beautiful woman.  In fact, I more than likely noticed her first! But, when it comes to double standards men generally have the upper hand.  Except in this case.   And that frankly, is a double standard I can live with. 


Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Un-Post

I just deleted something I had previously posted.  It was about sexism, double standards, blah, blah, blah.  It was just some thoughts I had rolling around in my head. I was not happy about it the second I posted it.  It did not give a good vibe.  And I am all about good vibrations, much like the Beach Boys.  I have realized today that I do not need to write about every little thing than runs through my mind.  It is a mangled mess at best and most of it, not worth blogging about.  So here are some other things you will NOT see me blog about:

- how my little boys like to wear dirty socks to bed.
- how my sons lizard died and it did not get a proper burial for days.
- how if I were in Glee I would want to play Sue Sylvester
- how we had a corn snake go missing and never found it. I simply replaced it.
- how  I creep people out at Target (oh wait, I did blog about that)
- how I like to go to the dentist just so I can sit in a massage chair.
- how I secretly keep from breathing when someone walks by whom I think may not smell good.
- how I was having a lovely "moment" with my husband when he sees something on my arm and says, "Oh is that a skin tag? I will have to burn that off."
- how I sometimes don't wash my hair for a couple of days.
- how I still secretly hope to be Miss America.
- how I really would like to sit in a snuggie all day, eat bon bons and watch soap operas

So aren't you glad to know you will never have to hear about those things?  Now if only I could just delete them from my brain.


Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Happiness Project: Not Just Cactus

For those of you who thought there was just cactus in the desert...

My entryway.

Want to see what makes others happy today?  Drop by
Leigh vs Laundry to view all the links to the Happiness Project!


Monday, April 19, 2010

Now I am the creepy one at Target...

My day started with a  "Retard Test" (doesn't everyone's?).

5 yr old JarBear:  Mommy I want to give you a retard test.

First I decided that now was not the time to tell him "retard" was not socially correct.

Me:  Okay go ahead.

JarBear:  A purple man lives in the purple house.  A red man lives in the red house.  A blue man lives in the blue house.  So who lives in the white house?

I really was not sure where he was going with this and I hoped it was not a racial joke.  But I looked at the source and decided to continue with the obvious.

Me:  A white man.

Jar Bear,  with much jubilation:  No. The President!  You're retarded!!

Great.  He has figured out already that Mommy is one short of a six-pack.  It usually takes them until at least 13.

So after I dumped loving dropped off kids at school I headed to Target. My love for it was not completely shattered by the molester.  

As I was buying way more than I had originally planned I noticed an older couple (meaning, older than me!) talking above a whisper.

Her: She needs it now.
Him: Can't she wait until her wedding?
Her:  She can't wait until June!  They'll break off by then.

They were standing near the lingerie.  That's all I'm saying.

So, as I was checking out, and no one was molesting my arm, I noticed a guy at the register that was one over from me.  There was a toddler in his cart, no older than 18 mos and a newborn baby girl in his arms (she was wearing pink so I can assume it was a girl).  There was no mama around and he was buying a ton of diapers AND nursing pads.  How dang cute was that?  I mentally added him to my Super Hero list along with Iron Man and Tampon Buying Man.

We were pushing our carts out at the same time.  He was pushing with one arm, still holding his baby.
 I could not help saying to him, "You're such a cute daddy and you buy nursing pads too!  Do you need any help?"  He just smiled and said no thanks.

As I walked to my car I thought "oh my gosh did I just say that?" First, I said he was cute.  Then I mentioned what he had bought, which was already bagged at that point, so he knew I was watching him make his purchases.  Then I asked if I could help.  What was he going to do?  Hand a complete stranger his baby?

He was probably thinking, "Okay creepy lady, get away from me and my kids."  He probably then ran home to tell his wife he was never going to Target again to buy nursing pads.  I just ruined everything for her.  Maybe I should tell her about my molester and I won't seem so bad.


Thursday, April 15, 2010

I was young and I needed the money...

I had every intent on participating in Kristina's Glamour Shots Gone Wild Blog Carnival today.  Because Glamour Shots + 15 to 20 years = outstanding entertainment for all.  I was willing to throw my own bold attempt at supermodel stardom into the mix.  First the pics had to be found.

So I pull out THE box.  The one that holds all pics I don't know what to do with and grows daily.  It is a scrapbooker's nightmare.  Good thing I don't scrapbook.   Soon my office looked something like this.

 This mess is Kristina's fault. 

I had twenty years of pictures all over my floor.  And believe it or not, those are organized piles.  I started putting them in categories so next time I went hunting it would be easier. Yea right.  So instead of finding my Glamour Shots (I think the paparazzi stole them so when I become famous they have something to blackmail me with),  I found 20 years of memories.  All my kids school pics, family group pictures, prom pictures and wedding pictures.  I love looking at a skinnier me full of hopes and dreams, while I was still young and dumb.

So I did not find THE Glamour Shot that makes me look like I was auditioning for Dynasty or ready to serve cocktails at a fine establishment downtown.  But I did find this one that I HATE almost as equally.

This was taken with my girls about 6 years ago.  My hair looks like a helmet and I can't do the pouty look. It is more evil than pout.  The girls were practicing their glares for the teenage years.  

You see the cuteness factor goes way up when I am not in the photo.  But they will probably cringe at this one day as well.  I sure hope so anyway.   

You want to see some more? Head over to Kristina's for your Glamour Shot voyeaur dreams fulfilled.


Wednesday, April 14, 2010


It was field trip day with my preschooler, JarBear.  I am one of those horrible moms that don't love field trips.  I send them to school for many reasons and my sanity is the top of that list.  And since my kids are in private school I pay for that sanity.  With my older kids I always had the excuse of have little ones at home, but now my excuses have run dry.

My kid loves it when I go. And as I discovered today, it's so he can get in more time to hang on me and whine.  Yea, that's fun.

I noticed as we arrived at the Natural History museum, that a mom was toting cupcakes share for her daughter's birthday.  Okay, that could be some motivation to get me through the museum with 20, three to five year olds.  As we were guided by our 90 year old docent who actually wanted the kids to be quiet and listen, my mind kept wandering to the cupcakes.

JarBear enjoyed the museum and we both tolerated the smell of old, dead, dusty animal fur.

"Mommy it smells funny and hurts my eyes." (we are still working on differentiating our five senses).

JarBear finding Nemo from the inside out.

Looking at old, dead, stinky fur animals.

After  1 1/2 hours of enlightenment we walked to the adjacent park.  Cupcake time!  The kids were sitting at two different picnic tables where cupcakes were handed out along with napkins and water. All of the kids were served and there were almost a dozen leftover. There they sat and not one mom partook.  Seriously?  You can't tell me I am the only one who wanted a cupcake.  It was 11:00 am and I was starving.  If I had been home I would have been on snack #4 by now.  All the mom's stood around and pretended to enjoy watching their kids devour their treats.  JarBear was licking his like a lollipop.  I wandered nonchalantly to the end of the table with the leftover cupcakes.  I just knew any second there would be a mad dash for them and I wanted to be the first one in line. 

The mom who brought the cupcakes started gathering them up in a box.  Really?  Are we all pretending to be on diets?  I heard her say something about saving them for the afternoon class.  My stomach was growling and I was denied a cupcake.  

I blame her for my stop at the Sonic drive-thru window on the way home.  I blame her for the mouthfuls of frozen cookie dough since I've been home.  This could have all been easily avoided with one cupcake.  

JarBear enjoying his cupcake.  Whatever.


Monday, April 12, 2010

Movie Bathroom Review

Last Friday night I went to the movies with my second favorite date, my sister-in-law.  We like to eat and laugh with one another and I don't even have to shave my legs or put out at the end of the night.

We ate some Panda Express and bypassed the concession stand because we are both being "good" right now with our diets. Good is boring and I was craving popcorn and candy.  I sipped my bottle of water with great resentment.

Before the movie even started I needed to empty my bladder.  Public restrooms are one of my least favorite places in the world.  I literally have dreams about needing to go really bad and finding nothing but grosser than gross toilets.  So I guess you should call them nightmares.  The only public bathroom I do not detest is the one at Nordstroms.  It smells nice and clean and has couches where you can sit and have buyers remorse.

Theater bathrooms are their own beasts.  Just the sheer volume of toilet stalls all in a row is overwhelming.  But not as overwhelming as the always unique smell.  How do I put this delicately?  It is the smell of hours of gynecological appointments gone awry.  Just sayin'.   I have a preference of going in stall where I have not seen the previous client. I do not want to know whose airspace I am getting half naked in.

So after I have picked a stall that has been empty for at least a few minutes and has not tell tale signs of what previously went on, it is time to find some place to put the purse.  Hopefully there is a hook.  The floor is not an option, for obvious bacterial factors. If I have to I will hold it on my lap, which is always comfortable.

Now if anyone would like to teach me how to put a toilet seat cover on and then turn around and sit down at the speed of light BEFORE it falls in the toilet,  I am all ears.  I fail at this miserably.  I don't know if I am slow or I am not getting the correct ratio of toilet cover torn off to create that necessary  toilet cover to toilet seat ratio. I guess I need to take a class.

Then there is washing up which can be as gross as the toilet stall itself.  There are counters that are covered in water, papertowels, hair and some kids dirty butt.  The new motion censored faucets and soap dispensers seem like a good solution to the spread of disease, except for one problem.  Apparently I have cold, dead, lifeless hands that can't be recognized by anything but a NASA satellite perhaps.  There is nothing stranger than moving my hands up and down under a faucet while praying for water, while others come and go finishing the task successfully.

I feel like saying, "Wait can you hold your hands under there for a second while I wash mine? Thanks."

Paper towels are also being replaced by hand dryers.  So after 20 minuntes and a line of dripping hands behind you, your hands will be dry, paper free.  So I usually walk out of the bathroom experience with wet hands and hope I don't run into anyone that is a hand shaker.

"Oh sorry, I just went to the bathroom and my hands are wet.  No, that's not pee."

But this is what I endure for a couple of hours of entertainment.  And at the end of that two hours, my bladder usually makes me endure it again.

And just for informational purposes, on Friday we saw "The Last Song."  If  you can stand Miley Cyrus'  "I just smelled a skunk" face, it is a good movie.  I liked the story line and got the hot men's beach volleyball scene I have been craving since Top Gun.


Saturday, April 10, 2010

Molested at Target

I usually don't post on Saturday.  But If I don't write about this now I'll have to go into therapy and blogging is cheaper.

I slept in and woke up to birds chirping, piano playing, dogs barking, kids riding big wheels in the backyard.  Perfect.

I quickly made a to do list in my head, because that is always reliable (extreme sarcasm).  I got dressed and asked my 15 yr fashion consultant if my blouse made me look like a butterfly.

Yes, a little.

Oh well.  I did not change.  It's spring and I like butterflies.   I went to Target as-is and hoped I did not run into anyone with butterfly net.

Let me say right now, I love Target.  Now I know lots of women say that but I REALLY love Target.  I want to marry it and have little Target babies of my very own that sing cute Target commercials.  

My mental list first told me to look at shoes.  I needed wanted a pair of strappy black heels.  And there they were.   $24.99.  More Target love points.  Then I needed a birthday gift for my TanMan to take to a 13yr old boy birthday party.  Normally I would head straight to the iTunes gift cards but I was feeling a bit creative so I headed to the camping section.  I pick out a headlamp and mini lantern.  I was feeling a bit awesome for those choices.  Then I passed the CDs and the Glee soundtrack sung to me.  I had been meaning to download some songs but had not so I bought the entire CD.  Feeling a little more awesome.

I was really on a roll when I remembered to actually pick up a gift bag, tissue paper and birthday card.  Now, I did not have a cart.  I think that if I don't get a cart I won't spend as much.  But I am amazed at how much I can actually carry in my arms.  For this trip I was piling things in my cute shoes box.  So by the time I got to the check out I was ready to dump on the conveyor belt.

When I approached there was no room quite yet for my stuff.  There was a seemingly normal looking man in front of me.  He was wearing a puffy down vest.  That should have been my first clue.  As soon as there was room for my stuff he turned to me, took my box of goodies out of my arms and laid them on the conveyor belt.  He even put the space-bar-thingy between our stuff.  My first thought was how chivalarous that was and I told him so because I was still feeling the Target love.

But then chivalry turned to creepiness.  For some reason after he took the box from my arms and I said thank you, I felt the need to point out to him the box lines on my arm.  And Mr. Puffy Vest took that as an invitation to touch my arm.

Not just touch it, but rub it.

With both hands.

Even above my elbows.

No one except my husband gets to rub above my elbows.  And that's on a good day.

He said "Does that feel good?  I am a physcial therapist."

And that gives you permission to feel up arms of complete strangers in Target?

I was dumbfounded, grossed out and in shock.  I am not sure if I said anything.  Should I give him my phone number after this?  Are we dating now?

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only 10 seconds he stopped molesting me and started touching my stuff.  No I had not paid for it yet but I had already bonded with it and it was mine.  I have to wear those shoes to church buddy!

He asked me questions about the lantern, where do my kids go to school.  He proceeded to tell me about his son's scholarship to UNLV.  He had procreated?  Of course he had and it had probably happened in line at Target.

I think I was polite though inside I was throwing up.

And as quickly as our relationship started, it ended.  He bought his two large bottles of hydrogen peroxide and left.

Peroxide?  Isn't that stuff used to get blood out of things?  He probably had to clean up after molesting women at Wal-Mart and stuffing them in his trunk.

I was dazed as I walked to my car.  I put in my Glee CD and started singing "Someone to Love", at the top of my lungs.  Yea, we all want someone to love, but not in line at Target.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Dear Oprah, I am over you.

Dear Oprah,

I am not quite sure how to say this since we have had a relationship for almost 25 years.  So, here it goes…I am over you.  Yep, it’s true.  It has been a gradual and painless process.  But let’s face it.  It’s time.  We had a good run.  I have been with you through all the thick and the thin (no pun intended. Okay, yes there was).  I have watched your rise to the all-knowing-all-powerful-talk-show-Goddess you have become.  I have been jealous of Gayle.  I watched you make-over the frumpy and praise the newly thin.  I have been there through the touching and heart-breaking.  I have cried with reunited families and abused children.  I watched you fawn over celebrities and become their new best friend.  I swayed and danced as you swayed and danced with great music icons. 

Oprah you may not remember me, but I came to your show.  TWICE!  It was the late 90’s when I lived in the Chicago area.  I remember being so nervous and spending hours on deciding what to wear.  I got my five seconds of camera time but the shows were really kind of boring.  And I was a little hurt how you didn’t even really acknowledge the audience during commercials.  I didn’t even win a car.  Sigh.

But I continued to watch.  I watched as your Midas touch turned Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz into household names.  I watch you get a mammogram and a colonoscopy and I don’t do that for just anyone.  I watched you introduce book after book for your club and even tried to read a few.  I realized we had different taste in books.  Either Tony Morrison is way over my head or I am way over hers.  And I already knew how to eat, pray and love.  Thanks anyway. 

You used to come off as every woman’s best friend.  You said you knew being a mom was the hardest job on earth.  But you don’t have kids.  You have maids and cooks and assistants.  So you really don’t know.  You became out of touch and too big to relate to the regular person.  You think a $100 purse or blouse is a bargain.  I decided I couldn’t really have a relationship with someone that has never shopped at Target. 

And then there was the whole election.  I knew we had different political views and that was fine.  But then you really made it clear.  You shoved it in my face.  You even said you knew half the country did not agree with you but still wore your “Hope Won” t-shirt the day after the election.  Like the rest of us did not have hope? I think we are just hoping for different things.

To be fair, I still Tivo you everyday. I watch if I find the topic interesting.  But I have no qualms deleting if you are too high on your horse or talking about child molesters for the 1 millionth time.  So I wasn’t really sad when you announced the end of your show.  I think YOU can feel that a lot of women are feeling the same as I.  Yesterday you announced your new prime-time interview show called “Oprah, the Next Chapter” or something narcissistic like that.  Oprah, darling, I think that is a chapter I will skip.



Wednesday, April 7, 2010

My Computer is Exploding with Awesomeness

I have amusing conversations with my kids and overhear funny things almost daily.  Here are a few of the gems...

I was going through a drive-thru with 16 yr old Man/Boy.  There was a sign outside the drive-up window that said

"Condiments available on request"

Because the word "condiment" still sparks the 12 year old in me and makes me giggle, I said,

"Look honey they will give you condoms on request."

Without missing a beat the Man/Boy said,

"Mom, they just want you to practice safe lunch."


We were riding in a quiet  car.  No radio and dark outside.  The 5 yr old  says to his 8 year old brother, 

"If you close your eyes and be quiet you relax."  

(I did not know he knew how to do either). 


I told my 12 year old TanMan he needed to get his Eagle Scout Award by the time he's 18.  

He said, "18?  16! Because by 16 I'll  be into girls and won't have time for my Eagle"

(glad he's pacing himself)


The TanMan was teasing the Co-Ed who was home for spring break.  

"We celebrated the whole time you were gone!"

"Shhh you weren't supposed to tell her" I added.

"Yea, you know you cried,"  the Co-ed retorted.

TanMan said, "Yea we cried with cake in our mouths!"

(ahhh the love of siblings)


Co-Ed to TanMan "Have you hit puberty yet?"
TanMan, "Yes. Multiple times."

(heaven help me)

TanMan (as you can tell by now he has a very healthy self-esteem) said,

"If you blog about me the computer will explode in awesomeness.

(so I am going to sit back now and enjoy the fireworks)


Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Life is good then you get pooped on.

It was one of those days when everything was going great.   I was enjoying our spring break with my family and renewing friendships and family ties.  The two little guys were playing with cousins as we took the four oldest to downtown Salt Lake to enjoy the sights and sounds of the Easter message and weekend.  We listened to wonderful, inspirational messages from men of God.  Then we enjoyed a calorie filled meal and milkshakes at our favorite burger place.

As we were waddling back to our car, laughing, enjoying each other I heard the sounds of the Utah State bird, the seagull, flying over head.  These birds are known for their miraculous insect eating abilities over 100 years ago in Utah, saving crops and over 4000 pioneers from starving.  Yea, well,  that was then.

I felt a plop on my arm.  I thought one of my boys had thrown food at me.  That would not be shocking.  But I looked down on my WHITE sweater and saw greenish, gooey, seagull poop.  Ewwwwww!!!! And I swear I could hear those birds laughing as they flew away.  I screamed and gagged like a woman who had been pooped on.  My hubby poured water  on it and tried to clean to the best of his metro-sexual abilities.  But there remained one big green stain.  It did not quite match the milkshake stain I already had on my cuff.  Yea, I was a mess.  I had hours to go in that sweater before I could change and it was way too chilly to take it off  (thank you Utah for the artic weather).  So, I tried not to let it get me down or walk to closely to someone in case I smelled of bird plop.

When we were finally on our way back to our lodgings and the kids were still laughing at the well aimed poop (I guess it could have been worse).   I decided to turn it into a teaching moment.  I had heard several messages that day about taking advantage of teaching moments with our children so I decided to turn poop into a positive.

Okay kids listen up. Sometimes life will be going really well and then you get pooped on.  And it is usually not a matter of IF you get pooped on but WHEN.   And it is up to you to decide how to handle the poop. Do you get mad and poop back?  Or do you say "Okay I got pooped on.  I'll clean it up and move on," And that poop may leave a little stain and set you back for awhile and you may have to head a different direction to stay out of the poop.  But it is all up to you and how handle the poop.

Well they all laughed at me.  But I bet that is a lesson about bird poop they will not soon forget.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Memory Speedway

I am blogging from my phone. It is supposed to be a smart phone so we'll see just how smart it really is. As long as it is smarter than me, we'll be just fine.

Yes, I am that committed to my blog. Or just ready to be committed I am not sure which.

I have been on a road trip without the hubby for two days now.
I have discovered two very wonderful things about traveling alone.

1. I don't have to confer with anyone about when to stop and pee or whether I should go through a 3rd drive thru in as many hours for a Dr Pepper.

2. There was no one to blame but myself when I got lost.
 No "You should have turned back there idiot!"
Only the own voices in my head were left to have it out. And they never listen to me anyway.

So I have actually enjoyed being alone with my little boys. Now, don't tell them that or it will ruin the whole "mommy dearest" thing I got going on and they will never fear me again.

I dragged my boys to my old college stomping grounds and a trip down memory lane ensued.
And memory lane turned into memory speedway and they endured it patiently.

Look boys, there is my first apartment.

Look, this is where I grocery shopped.

This is where I pretended to study.

That is where that boy and I .....nevermind.

This is where I failed all those tests.

There is the jewelry store where we got my engagement ring.

This is where your dad and I lived but those condos weren't there.

There is the doctor's office I first heard your sisters heartbeat.

That is where we went to church.

This is where I had all those dreams 20 years ago,
that have all come true.

Sigh. What a great day.



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