ArchivePage 3 of 101

Miss Grumpy Pants

I’m feeling a wee-bit like a cranky kermudgeon (andIdon’tcareifIspelledthatwrong). It’s just the little things that are making me feel like I am being continuously ever-so-lightly flicked on the forehead continuously… I have a list. Bitter-miserable souls are good list-makers. At least there is some good in here somewhere.

  • The air-brushed fakey perfection of women in the media. As hard as I work to be less fat than I have ever been since hormones took over in the early 80’s… I will never… … … It really sucks being a real woman with a real body (like, never a size 0 - EVER!) in this age of Photoshopped fakeness. We have no appreciation for real beauty because of all the fake- crap we are bombarded with. Makes me want to puke, but not in an eating-disorder sort-of way. See? I am in a bad mood. 
  • I hate pimples. *holds back profanity*
  • Claims like the following just tick me the heck off. They communicate a false sense of hope for the most hopeless of people — parents of sleepless children:
  • When my computer freezes. Or is slow. I have things to do and have no time to wait for something like a COMPUTER to take time to think. Sheesh.
  • Inanimate objects. I am certain that while I sleep at night all inanimate objects meet to decide how they will orchestrate my emotional undoing. Fragile items jump away as I carry them, drawers “fall” and contents spill, said drawers suddenly become too “fat” for the opening they just fell from, necklaces tangle, packages meant for a 3-year-old to open — behave like Fort Knox, items intended to stay upright tumble… and don’t even get me started on how my wayward floss and braces laugh and taunt me as I make great efforts to be a good patient for my orthodontist… 
  • Martha Stewart recipes. This is a love-hate thing. She. Makes. Me. Crazy. But for some reason, I can’t quit Martha. {clutches chest}
  • People who write in all caps. All. Caps. WHAT? Is that voice immodulation carried over into print?

  • Voice Immodulation Syndrome from Tony Weber on Vimeo

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Make Me Laugh Monday - Santa & preschool parties

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Clause…” EWWW! Not so much! I don’t care WHO is under that beard and bright-red suit…. No. Just… NO. My kids are creeped-out by the thought of it too. What can I say, I raise smart kids. 

Lucy’s preschool Christmas party was yesterday. Every year (all my kids have gone to this preschool) Santa comes to deliver little gifts to the children. Usually Santa is our teacher’s husband, but this year it was a student’s grandfather. This detail is important for later.

Each year, Mrs. Cindy has the children prepare songs to perform for the parents. It truly is delightful. I remember the first year with my son when “J’s” jingle bells sailed across the preschool for all the jingle-bell passion and heart he put into his choreography. This year… My sweet Cole… At first I thought it was adorable, all her chicken-bock-bock-bocking and twirling and passion, and singing to her classmates instead of to the parents. “Oh, she’s so social!” I thought.

THEN as she continued, I began to freak out a bit. I wondered if she was exhibiting signs of certain health issues. This is not the funny part. I was actually a bit freaked. People, my daughter was acting WEIRD. I wish I could show video, but for her online protection and protection of the other kiddos, I regret I cannot :( It is pee-your-pants funny as well as A-to-the-dorable.

Back to the party — At one point, I overheard a friend say, “She’s gone. She’s gone…” I took it as. “She (a preschooler) escaped the property, we must form a search party!”. No. Apparently sweet little “E” was in her car with a tummy ache - because she was afraid of SANTA!

After the performance, the children and parents waited for Santa’s arrival. Santa hadn’t even made it through the door when “B’s” face dropped. It was like she had seen a ghost. She began to cry and ran to her mother saying, “I don’t like Santa!!!”.

I am happy to report, Santa’s feelings were not hurt in all of this — and as far as I know “B” and “E” are doing just fine. I am thinking Santa is doing just fine to, because the last I heard about him was when the preschool teacher’s husband said,

I am going to go help Santa get undressed.

*insert my junior-high sex-ed class giggle here*

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Please add to our reasons to laugh this Monday! Add your name and the link to your Make Me Laugh Monday post into the Mr. Linky provided (read: your FUNNY post, not any old post you want to simply promote). Be sure to link back here in your post, so participants can get the most laughter into their Monday by meeting all the participants. Sure, it might just be 2 folks, but who knows when we’ll hit… a MILLION!!! Right? right? *crickets chriping*

Anyway — It’s Monday! Let’s start this week off right… laughing! 

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All I want for Christmas

My friend D… recently wrote a post titled “Peace”.  *waiting for you to read her post* … In it she gives 2 Christmas lists from 2 different boys in one of the classes she works with.

One boy wrote:

  1. macbook
  2. ipod
  3. macbook air
  4. at&t blackberry
  5. iphone

Another boy wrote:

  1. bike
  2. shoes
  3. a dog named Cocoa
  4. my mom to come see us on Christmas
  5. a better life

This year is a hard one for many people. Honestly, in the history of “bad years”, I am thankful it is not the worst (yet?) - in my lifetime nor in recent history for that matter. But what D…’s post reminds me of the most is the broken hearted. While our nation struggles with a growing financial crisis, people are still struggling with broken hearts and broken relationships. Money or no money… there has always been loneliness, sorrow, mourning, emotional & physical pain… It is sometimes harder to see the effects of the broken-hearted than the effects of poverty.

If we look closely, the desires of the boy in that second list - really, 3 out of 5 - has to do with relationship. Him wanting a dog is even more significant in the light of #4… This makes my heart ache. I’m pretty sure it would make my heart ache even if I wasn’t a mom. And you know what? If #4 was in place, I am certain “a better life” would not have ever crossed his mind. 

I know it would be easy to arrange to get a bike for this boy (my son’s age, by the way). If all the commenters on my last few posts donated a teensy $5 each, we could get that boy a bike - even several pairs of shoes. However, we all know that’s not the issue here. We all know that is not what we want for him the most, and we all know that is not truly his #1 hope. His joy needs to be fulfilled… his heart needs to be un-broken.

As we pop coins in the Salvation Army pot, maybe donate a turkey and canned goods to our local food banks… let’s not forget the broken-hearted. They are harder to see, but I am pretty sure if we slow down a bit and taken a moment to really listen… really watch our community - we’d all be pretty surprised.

I have no solutions. Perhaps it will be our little efforts collectively. Maybe a smile instead of an impatient grimace… A few extra minutes of genuine interest while the old man who talks too much in line — talks too much in line (because he is lonely)… Maybe it is, in fact, a pair of shoes for a child… Hold back judgement… Give grace… I am amazed at how one sour word or look can change MY day… Imagine the impact of even a brief moment of sincere goodness on a broken-heart — child or adult. It all trickles down.

Thank you, D… for sharing and giving me pause - especially in a season when I feel there is no time to do such things.

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Karen Carpenter’s vocal twin.

I am pretty sure that would be me.

You remember Karen… with her buttery voice all smooth like a clean shave sans razor burn… Even if you are not a wild fan of The Carpenters (I might fall into that category), it is absolutely inarguable - the woman’s voice is that of an angel. I will delete any comment otherwise. So, I guess what I am really trying to say might be,

I also have the voice of an angel, just like my vocal twin. You criticize her, you criticize me, and I only accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover, American Express, Paypal and COMPLIMENTS.

Got it?

So, as I took a shower… and sang “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” in *ahem* buttery tonal perfection… I TOTALLY hit a note that sounded like Karen Carpenter. Totally. I was singin’ away and I was all, “Whut the whut?” I actually looked around for the ghost of Karen Carpenter. Then I thot, like, “THAT’S NO GHOST! THAT’S THE VOICE OF A FRIGGIN’ ANGEL!” I looked around the corner to find neither angel nor ghost… and that was when I realized - 

I am the vocal twin of Karen Carpenter!

I! Know! Brains, beauty, crafty skillz, dancin’ skillz, vlogging skillz, and now… singing a note just like Karen Carpenter! If “Awesome” were matter and not an adjective/verb I would totally be oozing all kinds of awesome right now. If “Awesome” were matter, I believe it would look a lot like glitter, smell a lot like chocolate. ButIdigress…

So. Back to Me Karen and Me. We are also big fans of graphic tees.

  

It’s uncanny, I know…

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Undecided Voter

A few days after the election, my husband and I saw this in one of the yards at a frat house near the University of Washington. My husband took the picture. I was driving, and told him he HAD to get a good picture, because… hello? I’m a blogger! And, as the old saying goes, “I am soooo blogging this!”

Oh yeah, the picture:

My husband titled this: Undecided Voter

Kids these days…

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I made an Advent calendar with my own two hands.

I nearly glued myself to death, but I lived to tell the tale — look:

You can make one too! Let me show you how!  You’ll need do-dads and numbers and pockety-envelopes and glue-stuff and ribbon and glitterfication product, and a canvas and a big spot to mess-up and paint and a little foamy-brush-thing — to paint and glue with.

You will need to paint your canvas. Then lay out your envelopes… the picture below gives greater detail:

Then:

Adhere your decorated pockety-envelopes with Mod Podge. I suggest not gluing to the edges of the pocket. Leave a quarter inch or so. It’ll allow your pocket some room to grow when you insert your treats. I made the mistake of applying glue to the very edges. I am able to get one candy kiss in any one pocket. 3 kisses should fit easily if you leave some room for “stretching”. 

Now fill the pockets! Candy kisses, mints, mini candy canes, have the kids share a Hershey bar (4 squares each!), we did a movie night, paint your own pottery is coming soon… and we’ll be decorating cookies one evening too!  I added the picture below to give you an idea of the true-life size… That’s my 3 year-old Cole standing next to our calendar.

If I were to change anything… I might consider a more sturdy pocket. The pockets could tear rather easily because they are paper. We’ve not had any problems, but I’d like this to last several years.

 

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The Confessional - My Nubbin

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Ha. Ha.

Made ya look!

I don’t have a nubbin! I may have one GI-NORMOUS eye, but no nubbin.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa….

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My One Big Eye

I have a pet peeve. O.K. I have several pet peeves. HOWEVER… there is something about Me that bothers Me very much… I see it during my self-affirmation time in the mirror all day every morning so often. And that issue is… my ONE BIG EYE. I am different than Mike Wazowski though… 

He has only ONE EYE. Me? I sport two ocular units. Mike is also green. Me? Not so much — my skin favors a more “tan” hue… but I digress…

Now, I am not criticizing my looks. I am merely analyzing my facial imbalance. I mean even Julia Roberts — with whom I rival in beauty according to some brilliant people with exceptional vision — SHE has one big eye… right???

Curses! Ugh. At least I don’t look like Geronimo. Double curses!!!!!

3 years ago this month I had a tumor (schwannoma) removed from my right orbit. You should have seen the looks My Public gave me when I walked about while that puppy was healing! 

The good news was the tumor came back benign. The sad news… I… I didn’t realize the surgery would… *tears up*…

I spoke with my surgeon a couple of weeks later. I said, “O.K. I’m gonna give it to ya straight. My right eye was already bigger than my left and now… and now…”

You want to know what he said? He said,

“Your right eye is not bigger than your left, your right eye OPENING is bigger.”

Why I outta…

Awesome. Fast forward 3 years. Here is a picture of me AND MY BIG EYE OPENING posing for a picture this Thanksgiving… 

Why don’t I give you a closer look:

Thank you, I do have beautiful eye(s). They are a window to my soul… windows which apparently are two different sizes. If I ever meet you in real life, it’s O.K. to stare. I’ll just pretend you’re staring at my flawless… Uh… I’ll just… I… Uh…

Hey. Aren’t eye patches coming back “in”? I hear “Pirate” is the new black for 2009… Argh!

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Make Me Laugh Monday - I am an adolescent.

You may (ormaynot) already know that I am somewhat of a juvenile when it comes to my humor-style/appreciation. Simple things for simple minds? Perhaps. I prefer the term, “comedic genius”, but… you may use another term and why don’t you just keep that to yourself, m’kay pumpkin? So glad we are on the same page.

As a refresher, in case you are unfamiliar with what makes me laugh — words like “junk” and “business” and “salve” and “follicle” and… aaaanywho. You get the jist. So imagine you are in the car with me, and I drive past these advertisements:

  

Pretty much we are pullin’ over so I can take a minute to regain my composure… not pee my pants, and also take a picture for mah blog. And also, we will be late to your appointment… Sorry. 

Or how about this… I am reading Skippyjon Jones and the Big Bones *snicker* to my childrenses one night, and imagine my moral dilemma when I read the following:

Then he popped a pickle in his puss. He slapped some glue all over his newfound bone and stuck it onto his model.

*blinking*

I can hardly write this without flopping on the floor in hysterical laugher… not unlike a 13 year old in sex-ed class. Excuse me. I need a moment…

You can order this wonderful children’s book on Amazon

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How many of you Twitter? If you do, you are familiar with the email alerting you to new followers. Imagine my reaction when saw this in my email subject line:

Infection is now following you on Twitter!

Quite honestly, I was sure if I should laugh or start scratching… I also recieved this alert:

Santa Clause is now following you on Twitter!

Kinda wasn’t sure whether to write him or lock my windows…

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Have something funny to share? Let’s try Mr. Linky one more week and see if he plays nice. Excited to see what ya’ll have found!

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Deep Thought Thunday

“Alliterative Kerry” took down “Sensible Kerry” when they went toe-to-toe over THAT title. That “Alliterative Kerry” sure can be a Pushy Pusherson…

Anywho… I went for a run early this morning and got to be alone with myselveS. We always get some good one-on-one-on-one-one-one-on…. time in when We run “alone”. It was toward the end of my run, say, mile 5.5, that a long downhill sent me all-giddy with how good it felt to conquer a long uphill. It felt good to conquer that hill, and to be greeted with a moderate downhill. Being the thinker that I am, I thought to MyselveS:

The downhill is so much sweeter after a hard-earned uphill!

Then We thought, 

That’s good stuff. We need to share that with Our public, Kerry…

So, Blogger Kerry has taken the reigns and is sharing it. What do you think? You don’t have to go for a run to appreciate this concept… Don’t you think the wonderful times of life are supremely more sweet when you have something un-sweet to compare it to? What if life was flat? I’m pretty sure we’re happy the world is not flat. But I digress. I mean really, how do we really “know” sweet in the absence sour? How do we “know” loud without soft… Dark without light… Love without hate… Chip without Dale… err… Chocolate without not-chocolate?

I certainly don’t welcome the “uphill” times of life with open arms, mostly because I am not a big fan of work or effort. You know, “uphill battles” — they can be hard, painful, and often require a lot of work. However, when those times end (and they always do)… the prize of the “downhill” comes. The fruit of one’s labor, and how sweet that fruit can be… 

I dunno. Maybe I need to not spend so much time with myselveS.

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