The H Word

You all know of my enthusiasm for school to start, and it finally happened yesterday.  The kindergartner, JareBear was so excited that when we pulled up to his school he exclaimed, "I'm freaking out." We'll see how long that lasts.   I now have kids in college,  high school, middle school and elementary.  Yes we spread our kids out just enough to have the school experience as long as possible.  As much as I looked forward to my new  freedom at the end of a long summer, I forgot about the price I pay for that freedom.  The cost of my quiet time is the  H word, otherwise known as homework.

Having five kids in the house with homework ranging from trigonometry to counting how many apples in a set, makes for some strategic planning.  There can be no distractions.  Even a burp or well, you know, other noises, can set off a trigger reaction.  They all have to be far enough away from each other that one's eyeballs can't make contact with another.  They can't be in a room with a TV or a computer because they have a magnetic pull that can't be resisted.  Cell phones must also be unglued from fingers and taken out of arms reach. (How else am I going to read their texts without them knowing)?

For some reason, another requirement of getting homework done is I have to turn into Momzilla.  There must be constant monitoring, evil stares, threats of starvation and a life on the streets.  Because we all know who will get blamed if homework does not get done and it's not the kid.  I did not feel this much pressure to get homework done when the homework was actually mine!  (That might explain a few things but that is a whole other blog).

 Now, I am not one of those parents who requires straight A's, nor am I drilling math facts into their brains in their sleep.  Nor do I "do" their homework for them. Just getting their assigned work done on a daily basis is my entire goal.  With my high schoolers this goal can take until midnight and that is when Momzilla is worn down and the trust factor comes in.  I hate the trust factor.  It works for some teenagers and not others.  But in the end we have to let go, which is the hardest  part of being a parent.  We have to let go and live with and love the adult that is being produced under our wings.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy my peace in the mornings.  I will hug an kiss my children when they come home from school.  I will feed them a healthy snack.  Then I will quietly put on my Momzilla mask and crack the whip.

Notarized

Recently my college cutie and I both had to get something notarized.  (The reason why,  I will share in a later blog).  In my 43 years I think there was one other time I had to do this.  The idea seems very antiquated.  I was surprised to find that UPS stores have notaries so I told my daughter, who lives in another city, to go to her local UPS store too.

I did not know what to expect.  I pictured an old guy in a back room at an old metal desk with a big round embossing thing.  But there were just UPS folks in their blue polos and khakis.  (I guess the brown uniforms are reserved for the hot delivery boys). The blue-polo lady asked me to go over to a counter in the middle of the store.  I met her there with my very important papers.  She had a log book that she put down info. in and looked at my drivers license.  Sitting next to her log book, was a stamp.  There was no round embossing thing.

So after I signed my very important paper and before she signed and stamped her very important paper, she asked me to raise my right hand.

Huh?  In the middle of the store?  Not wanting to be un-notarized, I did it.

She proceeded with something about solemnly swearing that everything I said, did, wrote and thought, was the truth and nothing but.  So help me God.

Really?  In the middle of the store? Who died and made her judge?  She did not flinch or smile.  She was serious.

So with my right hand still in the air, I said yes.  Thinking I was under oath, I then testified that Colonel Mustard did it in the library with the knife.  Or maybe that was just in my head.

I then got to pay $5.00 for the privilege.

I left the store thinking the whole thing a bit odd but supposed that was how it was done.

I then talked to my hubby who snickered at me.  He said he's had things notarized a lot for his business and never had to raise his hand and swear anything.  Well, maybe that is just because he is a cute and charming.

But then I talked to my daughter who went to her own UPS store.  She snickered too.  Well, more like laughed out loud.  No, she did not swear to anything either.

What?  Why me?  Did I find the only notary on a power trip? Was there a hidden camera and they were watching video, on their lunch breaks, of the poor slobs that raised their right hand in the middle of the store?

I think it was racial profiling.

Everyone knows that Caucasian, middle aged moms, are always the first to get the shaft.

Linda

Does your McDonalds have an open bar?

I have tried to keep my connections on the down low.  I don't want anyone to think I am not just a normal down to earth mom.  But I guess it's time to spill the beans and then you can decide if you're still worthy of my presence.  I have connections at McDonalds.  My BIL might own a few of them.   I may have access to Happy Meal Toys. Yea I know, it's a pretty cool perk.  Well, the BIL had an open house for  his new restaurant last night and we got to see it pre-grease and nugget-hungry people.

The store was so beautiful and un-hamburger like.  My SIL, who has luxurious taste, decorated every square inch.  There were purples, greens and black and white accents.  And a chandelier.  Yea it would make me think twice about dripping my ketchup on the floor.  It is so pretty it could totally count for a cheap date night.  

And what do they serve at a McDonalds open house? NOT french fries and ranch dip.  It was catered by Wolfgang Puck's restaurant.   There were froo-froo appetizers and an open bar, in a McDonalds.  Though we do not drink, the hubs and I tried to feel as fancy as the atmosphere as we drank our cranberry juice.  When I recognized something that looked like pizza I snagged that too.  

As we were taking a tour of the stainless steel kitchen, the WP chef was also there.  He had on his chef smock and was having an intense conversation, in his European accent,  with the store manager.  She was showing him the ins and outs of the kitchen and how everything worked.  He was fascinated.  I was fascinated watching him be fascinated by how fast food works.  At one point he was holding a frozen beef patty.

So the next time you go in a Wolfgang Puck restaurant, and they offer to supersize your meal, you'll know why.

**********************************************

Last week, to celebrate my 100th post I held my first giveaway. 

We have a winner for the CSN Stores $50 gift certificate...

Drum roll please.....

Sandy aka Doris the Great

She is an adorable blogger and gardener from the Great White North. 

Congrats!  

Linda

School, Shmool

Yea, quit bragging.  I know a lot of you have already sent your kids back to school.  My kids have two more weeks.  Go ahead and feel sorry for me.  I cannot wait for school to start.  I am not one of those moms that will cry as I drop them off.  Though I love the lazy days of summer (a.k.a. sleeping-in), they are usually accompanied by a lot of fighting, whining and "what are we going to do today?" I so desperately want to say "YOU ARE GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY."  So with that being said, for my monthly stint on BlissfullyDomestic.com, I shared my strategy, or lack of it, for Back to School Basics.  Please head over there and share some comment love.


ALSO don't forget to enter my 1st Giveaway to celebrate my 100th post!



Linda

My First Giveaway!!!!!

It is time to celebrate!  I am celebrating my 100th post as a blogger.  I wanted this post to be my 100th but it is actually my 101st.  Whatever.  I started blogging in 2008.  I think I wrote four posts that year and four in 2009.  So at least 90 of my posts have been written this year.  It was the 43 years of pent up angst and rants that could no longer wait to get out! My family now wears t-shirts that say "blog fodder" because they know their place.  I started blogging becasue I love writing but had no idea of the world I was entering.  The friends I have made have been a priceless bonus.  So this giveaway is for my bloggy friends and loyal readers and commenters.

There is nothing I like more than shopping online. Being able to spend money while still in my underwear is a gift of living in the internet age.  Since having 8 people live in my house makes it sometimes smelly and not pretty, I like add pretty things like quilts, pillows and someday, these awesome upholstered headboards!

 

Let's face it folks, a soft headboard is easier on the love life (sorry Dad, but it's true).  But these are only a fraction of the things CSN Stores has in its over 200 stores.  So for my lovelies we are giving away a 

$50 gift certificate that can be used at any CSN store.  

 I am going to make this easy-peasy-lemon-squeasy.  All you have to do is leave a comment.  That's it. Of course those comments that say great things about me may get extra consideration. And if you wanted to join my Facebook group you can.  And if you became a faithful reader and follower of my blog, that would be super. And if you wanted to twitter about it I would love you forever.  But all you have to do is leave a comment because I am easy like that.  Just ask my husband.  

*this giveaway is only open to residents of the US and Canada. 

*this contest will be open until August 15, 2010, midnight, Pacific Coast Time.  A winner will announced on Monday August 16.  Good Luck.  

Linda

Master of My Domain

Back when the Seinfeld gang had The Contest and became "masters of their domain" I would have never have imagined that I too would be master of my domain.  My web domain that is.  I bought my own little piece of the web-o-sphere today.  I am now a dot com.  I have been watching, learning and listening to the smart women around me like Dee Dee at What Ever Dee Dee Wants and her great how to blog post about custom domains.  And voila! I am the domain master of www.seemomsmile.com.

So now that THAT is mastered, what's next?  Here are some other things I would like to master...

...the art of putting the toilet seat protective cover on and actually sitting on it before it falls in.
...the art of reading a book in less than a month.  So much to read, such a slow reader.
...the art of texting or typing emoticons without looking at the screen.  Where is that darn parentheses anyway?
...being a dog whisperer.  Right now I am just the dog yeller.
...the art of cooking.  Well, not really but I think I supposed to say that because I am a mom.
...parking my SUV in a parking space, straight.  Yea that's me, the crooked one.
...being able to have a pedicure without letting it tickle.  And then giggling.
...not being bitter that there is not yet a  Real Housewives of Las Vegas.

What would YOU like to master?

Linda

And then there was one

No I am not talking about Roberto. who the Bachelorette Ali chose tonight (though I have decided to start calling my husband, Roberto instead of Robert).  It was a good ending to a fun season of the Bachelorette though Ali's hair never quite found it's groove.  I digress.

My heart is aching tonight for a mother in my neighborhood.  She laid her eggs in the bushes of our neighbor across the street.  These hedges have been the incubating spot for many a duck family over the last couple of years.  We have seen many ducklings grow up on our street, which is in walking distance to the lake.  They are the neighborhood pets.  They are watched over and protected as much as possible.

Last spring there was this mommy of about 12 ducklings.  I  think she was vying for her own reality show with that big flock.  They wandered the streets in all their cuteness and spurt their poop in all its grossness. Eventually they go to the lake and stay.

So the new mommy emerged at the end of last week with five little ducklings, barely taller than a blade of grass.  Our whole family was so excited and went outside at every sighting (okay maybe the 16 yr old man/boy was not as excited as the rest of us).

On Sunday afternoon, pulling up to our house, Mommy Duck was walking them across the street, all FIVE.  On Sunday evening she was camping out on our front sidewalk, babies gathered around, and there were only FOUR.  My hubby and I looked around and it was nowhere to be found.  I felt so sad for this mommy and wanted to throat punch the cat or dog or whatever it was that took her baby.

This afternoon we saw Mommy Duck a few doors down on someones lawn.  There were only TWO babies.  More sadness, more longing for throat punching.

Tonight as I came home from a late night of eating junk and making fun of the Bachelorette's hair, Mommy Duck was in front of my house again.  And there was ONE baby. ONE!  My heart sank.  This poor mommy had lost all  but one baby.  I wanted to  bring her inside and protect her and her duckling.  Or stand outside all night and guard them with a bat.  But as we learn from Shark Week and The Hills,  there is a circle of life.

As a mom, raising six of my own babies and wanting to keep them close and safe my heart aches for Mommy Duck.  We can't always protect our kids.  Though I know my own kids will not be eaten by a wild animal (unless camping in Yellowstone apparently), they will leave me.  They will poop all over my house and leave me, as one already has.  So I just pray I have taught them enough to not get eaten alive by the world and to call their mom every once in awhile.

Linda


P.S. This was written at 1:30 am, have no idea if it's coherent.  Going to check on Mommy Duck and go to bed.

Apparently I am the underwear expert now...

Yea I am beginning to think I need to stick to online shopping.  This time, I was not molested at Target and no one was shot at Costco.  But I did attempt to shop at Costco for the first time since the very controversial incident. I was running low on my new favorite chocolate covered blueberries, so clearly I had no choice.  Not to mention the churro craving I could no longer ignore.

Everything seemed back to normal and the store was business as normal.  I was making my regular counter clock-wise route around the store, putting things in my cart that were not on my list.  I was almost done, event free when I spotted the sheet sets.  We were down to one set of sheets for our Calif. King and these were actually on the list.

As I was starring down the sheet choices, an older man (older than me, say 50ish), non-creepy looking, was looking perplexed starring at the ladies underwear.  He already had a cart full of socks and men's underwear.  I tried to ignore him when he spoke.

Non-Creepy Man: My wife's not here and I'm out of my element (so glad he was admitting that).  I am buying underwear for a ladies charity (sure you are).  I need less fashionable and more serviceable.

Now I was this guys expert on ladies underwear.  Great.  Serviceable?  Not fashionable?  Funny and weird terms for underwear.  Little did he know, in my mind "serviceable" underwear sounded a lot more dirty than fashionable.  He was apparently embarrassed.  Costco did not carry any underwear that would be the envy of the girls at the strip club.  He had nothing to worry about.  And because I am nothing if not charitable, I directed him to the packages of ladies underwear.  I told him they were perfectly acceptable to donate to charity.

And trying not to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, I tried to be nice.

Me being nice:  Yea, you have a lot of socks and underwear there.  That's very nice of you.

Yea I said something that lame and pushed my cart away.  And I prayed that, that man's wife would not let him out alone, again.  Especially if he was on an errand to buy ladies underwear.

Linda

Back when I was a blogging virgin...

So as not to interrupt my crazy, lazy, hazy, daze of summer, I am repurposing an old post.  But not just any old post.  This was my FIRST post EVER.  This was written back in October of 2008, when I was a blogging virgin.  I had no idea what I was doing with a blog for about the next 1 1/2 years.  I think my writing voice has changed a bit, but the topic and and my feelings about it, have not.

Morning Naps

I am not a morning person. Even with all the mornings I have had to get up for in my life. 4 years of early morning seminary, 1 1/2 years of missionary service, and let's not forget 6 babies over a 14 year period of time and the varying times of the early mornings that has allowed me to see.

 From the time the oldest kid could pour cereal and turn on the TV,  I have spent morning time in bed. Especially during the summer breaks when there was no one to get ready and take to school. Now, I thought nothing of it until a few years ago,

I found I was a topic of conversation. A friend came over one day with a friend of hers that I had not met. After she introduced me to her friend, the friend said " Oh she is the one that sleeps until 9". I was shocked. I laughed it off but have thought about it a lot. Are moms automatically supposed to rise at the crack of dawn because they are a mom? And the fact that I did not get up early was enough to mention in a conversation because I was breaking the mommy code? So why the guilt about sleeping in?

Yes, getting up earlier would allow me to "get more done" in a day. The stuff that I would do will always be there. Always, always, always. Yes, I could spend more time with my kids. But lets face it, the kids are one reason I sleep in and they will be mine for eternity. Now, don't get me wrong I still do my motherly duties when necessary. Like this morning began my one week in 4 to drive my son and others kids to early morning seminary. I was done with this task by 6:15 am. It was still dark outside and no one else was even up yet. I thought about taking advantage of this "extra" hour like a good mom would do. But the thought never made it to action. So I did what a normal, tired, mom of 6 would do. I went back to bed.

Linda

Five Reasons I am a Stay-At-Home-Mom

My mom likes to cut pictures out of magazines and save them.  She is an artist and loves pretty things and saves these for inspiration.  Growing up I loved going through he file folders of clippings.  And a few days ago I found some in my own files.  They were my moms because they are clearly from the 1950's or 1960's.  And the image these portray is as relevant today as they ever were.  They brought to mind my own reasons for being a stay at home mom for the last 20 years.

1. I am perfectly lazy.  I like to sleep in and not wear a bra.  And an employer might frown on that.  But lets face it, I live in Las Vegas so there are lots of jobs where NO bra is a requirement.  

2.  I did not finish my degree so my job choices are limited.   I am a few credits shy of the ever popular Undecided Degree.  I got my Mrs. Degree instead.  I think it pays more and gives me great flexiblity.  

3. I grew up in a very traditional home.  My mom stayed home, my dad worked and was home for a warm meal every night.  I liked the security of that.  While my hubby works long hours, is rarely home for dinner and I do not like to cook, it is the thought that counts.  

4. I want to be the one to ignore my children, put them in time-out, let them eat cold cereal for dinner, drag them to piano lessons, scold them for swearing, and let them go to bed in their swim suits.

5. On August 30, for the first time in 20 years, all six of my kids will be in school full-time.  All day, every day.  I will be home alone to sun bathe, watch Jerry Springer and read my People magazine.  And the complete chaos that ensues after 3:30 pm daily, will be completely worth it.  

Linda

Because I like a challenge

Okay not really.  But a blog challenge I can handle.  About 400 other ladies are tackling this challenge so I decided to join the cause.  Because I am nothing, if not follower.  So I am attempting the ProBlogger's 31 days to a better blog, along with a support group in the SITS forum over at The Blog Frog.  ( I think that is enough links for one sentence).

Now, I know what you are thinking.  My blog is already pretty fabulous.  But when you take away my good looks and pretty pink header what have you got?  I am feeling the need to define and challange myself and this seemed like a good platform.  So this is already day #3 of the challenge because most organized bloggers started on Monday.  But I wanted to make a grand entrance, so here I am.  So I will be cramming for my tests as I did over 20 years ago.  Some things never change.

Challenge #1, Elevator Pitch

An elevator pitch is how you can define yourself and your job/goals to someone else in a short amount of time.  Like in an elevator.  Now the only elevators I usually ride in are in casinos.  Not because of my gambling addiction but because the casinos are where the good movie theaters are located in Las Vegas.  These elevators usually smell of smoke, shame, sadness and a one-night stand.  I don't usually talk to anyone in these elevators and tell my kids to close their eyes and plug their nose.    So I will try not to take the term "elevator" pitch too literally.

When I describe myself to others I usually say, "I am a mom."   Being a mom comes with a set of given traits and habits that would immediately be understood by others, especially other moms.  And I think the same goes for bloggers.   So If I say, I am a mom and a blogger I think that would describe a lot.  But now I need more definition.  What is my blog about? Well it is about whatever I find funny or amusing that day.   It can be about finding the humor in parenting, being a mom, a wife, a daughter, sister, friend, human being or creepy person at Target.  So how do I make that sound exciting and make folks want to know more?

Here goes:

I am the mom of six who likes to find and write about the humor and every day insanity of being a woman and mom raising a family.  And I hope to help other moms feel that their life is normal.  

Okay, how boring is that?

I would say I don't want your opinion, but I guess I do.  I am open to suggestions.  But be kind or you will not be invited back.

Linda

iWant, iNeed, iLove

I never wanted it.  I told my husband I didn't need it.  But in his continued desperation to buy my love, he gave me the iPhone for Christmas 1 1/2 years ago.  And it was love at first sight.  I did not know that I was missing the other half of my brain until I was holding it in my hand.  Glossy screen.  Smooth buttons that live for my commands.  Since that day, it has not left my side.

My hubby did not know what he had done.  He called the phone my lover because it slept with me at night. It has been with me through thick and thin.  It has survived the dirty little fingers of my kids playing their games.  It reads to me and sings to me.  It reminds me of my appointments, gives me directions and tells me when my movie is starting.  It has been an intense, very one sided relationship.

And then I let it down.  Down, over the stair railing, about 12 feet, to the tile floor.  I might have shouted an expletive.  When I picked it up, it looked like this.  It's not supposed to look like this.

 
Popular opinion told me that the Apple warranty did not cover cracked screens.  My heart was breaking. I did not want to buy a new one.  I made an appointment with a Genius at the Genius Bar at Apple. Yea that is what they call themselves.  It is supposed to instill confidence.  Unfortunately it does not work.  

So as I have learned about going to any appointment that I need excellent service, I showered.  I put on something other than my High School Musical t-shirt and sweats.  I wore make-up and earrings.  And of course the kids asked, "Where are you going?"

I walked in with confidence.  I was not timid with a look of "I dropped my phone and it cracked and you won't replace it and I'm going to cry."  I did not look like that.

I was seated at the Genius bar where I waited for my genius.  He did not look the part but he was all I had.

Confident me, "Ummm my phone looks like this and it shouldn't."

He looked at it and smiled.  We both knew exactly what had happened to that phone and neither one of us was going to say it out loud.  He had me take off the cover which revealed the back of the phone that actually had cracks in it.

Wanna-Be-Genius, "Well these cracks could be from a fall or from yanking it out of the wall too hard. This is kind of a grey area."

Confident me had no comment. I think silence was by best weapon in this case.

Wanna-Be-Genius, "We are going to go ahead and replace it.  Have you synched it?"

Confident me, "Yes."

He went into the illusive "back" where all the new iPhones hung out waiting to be adopted.

Confident me was jumping up and down inside.   I said good-bye in my heart to my old phone as it got whisked away for parts.

Helloooooo new phone.  It's the beginning of another beautiful new relationship.  I just won't take it near the stairs.

Linda

Remember when I was NOT famous?

So about a bizillion years ago (no exaggeration),  I sent some articles to Mormon Times.  Because, well,

A.  I am a mormon

B. It is a newspaper, sent to other mormons. 

C. They publish stuff other mormons read.  

D.  It is a niche I am really interested in. 

So I think I sent two.  And then......nothing.  I was not shocked but in my dream of dreams I thought they would read my totally engaging stuff and knock down my door.  Did. Not. Happen.  

So I forgot about it, much how I forget about my other squashed dreams.  (you know, world peace.  Just a morning a peace would be nice.)

Last week an old friend wrote on my facebook  page (one of those "friends" I haven't seen since the day I graduated from high school),  and he asked if that was my article on mormontimes.com.  It did not even occur to me that it might be because I had not heard from them.  

So I told him no. 

He sent me the link but I didn't look at it.  

Fast  forward two days.  I get an email from an editor at mormontimes.com.  They published my article.    Not in the paper. But online.  What the?!?!?!?!

So they published it online in the Reader Voices section.  Yea baby.  I have a voice.  

This same article was once a blog  post many months ago when my dad was the only one that read my blog.  So now that  I am famous, reading it will cost you one click...Just Another Manic Sunday.  

So it did not make it to the printed page.  But everyone knows print is dead anyway.  

Long live my virtual fame.

 

Linda

Yea, he said that.

I have not written about weight a lot.  It is a sensitive issue for most.  Not so much for me.  It is what it is.  Since I have been married I have always been thin-ish.  Even between the  fat-inducing babies, the weight would come off.  Don't hate me.

Then I turned 40-ish.

The habits I had formed for the last 20 years have caught up with me.  Just a bit.  And these habits have gone straight to my tummy.  That seems to be where I store my Cokes, brownies, hamburgers, fries, Cherry Limeades and late night buttered popcorn.  And and don't forget to super-size all that.  With little effort I can appear to be 6 mos pregnant.  We don't know the sex yet but we think it will be shaped like a Gingerbread man.

Then there is my husband.  He eats really healthy unless I can entice him to the dark side.  Which seems to be easier the older we get. It's the dark side or go hungry.  But even then he knows how to eat in moderation.  He doesn't feel the need to eat the entire pan of brownies as I do.  What is that about?  And he stays thin. You are allowed to hate him.

I have decided he is going outlive me.  Which is fine.  Then he will have to live alone, not me.  If it was me living the end of my life alone they would have to extract my 700 lb. self from my bed, into my casket, with a forklift.

Well he may live longer.  If I don't kill him first.

A few days ago I asked him the age old question that every woman knows you should never ask.  I guess like most women, I didn't think he would actually tell me.

Me (standing in front of the bathroom mirror): Do you think I should lose some weight?

Still alive husband:  I love you just the way you are.

(So far so good. But I had to push it further.)

Me: So if I never lost any weight stayed this way for the rest of my life, you would be completely satisfied?

Still alive husband: Well....(here it comes), you may be more attractive visually if you lost some weight...

Yea, he said that.

And right then he was more attractive to me, with my foot in his crotch. You know, visually.

Linda

* Picture is fictional.  Any resemblance to actual legs, feet or crotches is strictly coincidental.

Mayhem at Costco

No it wasn't me and my kids.  An apparently crazy man can take the blame this time.  It was last Saturday when my daughter and I went to Costco to stock up on summer supllies.  You know, important stuff like  cold cereal, fruit snacks and a 20 lb bag of chocolate chips.  Because you never know when you are going to need to make 20 doz cookies.  I usually try to avoid Costco on a Saturday because of the crowds.  But because I am completely incpable of planning ahead, we ended up there on a weekend.

We first downed the customary $1.50 hot dog and soda.  I can not pass up a good hot dog that I get to decorate with a publically shared mustard and ketchup  pump.  Just the thrill of not knowing whose hands have been where, make it taste all that better.  So then with my daughter driving the cart without any Costco drivng experience, we shimmied and dodged our way through Costco.  And as usual when family comes along, I spent twice as much as normal.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as  we got a check mark on our reciept and headed to our car.  That's when I noticed the first cop car.  It pulled right up in front of the store, blocking traffic and lights spinning.  My first thought was "uh-oh, someone lost their reciept.  There is going to be trouble!"  As we were driving out of the parking lot, two more police cars passed us and zoomed  towards the store.  Wow, we were really missing the action.  I was almost tempted to turn around and see what  was up.  But I didn't want my chocolate to melt so I had my daughter search for a police scanner on my phone.  No luck.  Oh well, they must have caught a shoplifter.

It wasn't until Sunday after church when my daughter told all the kids were buzzing about what happened at Costco.  She shared the gruesome story then I read it in the paper.  While WE WERE THERE, there was a crazy man knocking things off shelves and  breaking things.  Security called the police when they saw he had a GUN! Managment starting telling everyone to evacuate, leaving their carts and all.  (We were just leaving the parking lot at this time.  Thank goodness we got out with our loot!).  As folks were leaving, the police arrived and found the guy leaving the store.  They asked him to stop.  He went for his gun and they SHOT HIM like four times.  Dead.  In front of MY Costco.  Just yards away from the churros.

It was witnessed by a lot of people and the thought makes me sick to my stomach.  ALMOST sick enough to not go back their and try there new gelato.  Almost.


Linda

Move Over Dr. Ruth

I have solidified my self-proclaimed status as a sex education expert.  I know that status may be news to some of you but in my house I am well known for giving advice and words of wisdom on this topic freely and without solicitation.  My teenagers love me for that...Well, they will someday I am sure.

If you want the secrets to my success  you can find them today at Blissfully Domestic.  I share my pearls on   how to talk to your kids about sex.  Please go read, comment and bask in my Dr. Ruth-like attitude.

Linda

I like sticky things

Oh That's Funny!

Funny weird-In the new Eclipse movie Edward was very endearing and almost as hot as Jacob. 


Funny Ha Ha- Mr Dishwasher Repair guy's thick Russian accent.  I sooooo wanted to get him to say "moose and squirrel."

Funny embarrassing- A little situation I had with black bra under a white dress, in the most inappropriate place, and getting discovered and being sent to the "principal's" office.  


Funny because if I didn't laugh I'd cry-Having an electrician, dishwasher repairman, carpet cleaner and Mr. Painter Man all in my house in the same week.  And my car in the shop TWICE!  (Next week, window-repair guy).


Funny because it's better them than me- My daughter getting a job at Cafe Rio the same week the Man/Boy got a job at McDonalds.  God bless minimum wage and fast food.  


Funny new realities- My college-cutie in her first apartment, calling me distraught over her first gas and electric bill.  Welcome to adulthood baby.  Wanna trade bills?


Funny ironic-  A bank down the street from us that went out of business, with a sign in front of the building that says "bank owned."


Funny inappropriate- My husband coming up with a new name for Sarah McLachlan when he found out she's a lesbian. (Where was he when that closet door was opened?). 


Funny annoying-  My 5 year old calling me "mama".  He can call me mom, mommy, mommy dearest, mother, woman or Tipper Gore but "mama" makes me crazy.  


Funny sad-  My house is now staged, organized, clean and pristine.  I am missing my stuff.  


Linda


P.S.....Funny but not true- Apparently Sarah is not a lesbian. It is a rumor.  It is a rumor that I have now help spread. But we now have a nickname for her if she ever becomes one. 

Get Your Butt In Here

Alone at last with my computer, 2 bowls of cereal and Tivo.  I have time to blog today because...

1. My brain will explode if if don't.
2. I know how to successfully pawn my children off on other people
 and make it seem like it was their idea.
3. My house is LITERALLY wrapped up like a cocoon in plastic and there is NO WAY OUT!

Yes, Mr. Painter Men are here again.  It took them awhile to come back after the peep show.  And all the men are suddenly wearing large hats and sunglasses.  And I am in a parka.  And there is plastic covering every window and door.  They say it is to protect the door and window frames.  But we all know it's so they don't have any chance of seeing the 43 year old white woman in her birthday suit. I feel like we are in a large science experiment and we're being quarantined. Soon those men from the movie ET will break in and want to analyze us.  I just want to "phone home".  Or  go to Nordstrom's Cafe.

We are still in home staging/improvement/repair hell.  Monday the electrician was here, tomorrow the carpet cleaner and then hopefully Vern Yip from Design Star to put it all back together for me.  And just so I can say his name some more.  We are shooting for an Open House on Saturday.  I have always wanted strangers wandering through my house, checking out my underwear drawers and critiquing my cleaning and decorating skills.  So yes, the Open House is a dream come true.  (If you would like to come there will be a special viewing for blog friends.  The first 10 to show up will get a shirt that says "I saw Linda's underwear drawer and all I got was this dumb t-shirt").

So while people are traipsing through my house I will be taking in a quadruple feature at the movie theater. Any movie having to do with airbenders, vampires, or Tom Cruise running fast will do.

Linda

Peep Show

As we continue on our "staging" journey I begin to welcome strange men into my house.  The other day it was "painters".  Very nice Hispanic gentlemen. They were going to be outside all day so I would remain comfortably in my house.

I opened the blinds and curtains of my upstairs master bedroom to let the sunshine in as I do every morning.  I locked to bedroom door to avoid any traumatic encounters with my kids and jumped in the shower.  Ahhh.  Every time I shower I think I should do this more often.  I toweled off and walked into my  master bedroom wearing nothing but what God gave me.

And right outside my bedroom window was Mr. Painter Man.

I squealed (maybe added a swear word or two) and ran into my closet. Holy Crap, I just flashed the poor guy.  I don't think he saw me and was praying for a benefit of the solar shades that the manufacturer never intended.

I got dressed and very casually walked to the window and closed the blinds and curtains.

I texted my husband to tell him about the peep show.  And my sweet husband, who is forever defending my honor, texted this back:

"Make sure he subtracts that value from the total bill."

Or, as I pointed out, they could end up charging us hazard pay.


Linda