Faceless Bloggers, Faithful Friends

For those of you non-bloggers out there,
it must seem strange how one person
can sit in front of the computer every day
and pour out their heart.

I am sure there are those of you
who consider bloggers merely
"wanna-be's",
troubled souls,
or journalists who publicly
expose their daily diary.

 I raise my hand.
Guilty.

I suppose I have been all of those
at one time or another.
And I've been many more faces
that reveal themselves
when the keyboard starts clicking.

But above all else,
I believe that most bloggers
are here to learn.

About themselves,
their craft,
and the support and
entertainment they provide
their faceless readers.

I have only been blogging a few years now,
but the changes taking place in Blog Land
are tremendous.
No longer is the blog a blank page
with a calendar of words.

Blogs are brilliant and bold.
Flourished and fancy.
Some chocked full of
advertisements,
contests,
give-aways
and awards.

Some are whimsical,
cute and funny.
Others are heart breaking,
real-to-life
and soul-searching.

There are blogs with stunning photographs,
silly cartoons,
and daily doses of life.

But what all these blogs have in common
is that the person behind them
is growing.
Stretching.
Experimenting with not only their words,
but their feelings.

So, it is both exciting and intimidating
when a fellow blogger offers
a new challenge.

Dee over at

Say Anything

has a giant plate of fun
constantly being filled with
a variety of new applications.

In addition to Dee's personal blog,
she also hosts Say Anything,
which interviews and introduces
bloggers to the masses,
suggests weekly subjects,
and links readers and writers alike
to a network of camaraderie
and creativity.
She even co-writes a third blog.

 A Note A Day

that promotes positivity and
optimism.
Check it out.

This week I've been challenged by
Arlee Bird
over at tossing it out,
and it's a fun project I'm hoping
to follow through on.

Arlee says:
"The challenge would entail that each day participating bloggers post at least 100 words based on the letter of that day, starting with "A" on April 1 and ending with "Z" on April 30. "
(This is counting Saturdays, with Sundays off, which adds up to 26 days - one day for each letter of the alphabet).

So, tomorrow I will be staring
with the letter "A"
and it sounds pretty easy.
But, I can't help but get a bit nervous
when I look ahead to "Q'" and "Z"
and realize I'm being monitored!

If you readers have any suggestions
of subjects you'd like to throw out to me,
just let me know and I'll try to
create something special just for your
letter of the alphabet.
And I'll mention that you
were the inspiration.

Okay, Arlee-
I'm taking up that Double Dog Dare!
Let's just hope this old dog
can learn some new tricks!

Chocolate Wins, Hands Down!

There is something quite pleasurable
about the pastel colors of spring.

Everywhere you look now,
the colors of winter are being replaced
with a burst of eye-pleasing hues -
in celebration of new beginnings.

... lemon colored kitchen towels,
... blueish sea green stemware
for outdoor picnics,
... turquoise lawn flags
that wave with bluebirds and sunbursts,
and overflowing pink pails
of smiling pansies...

However,
my favorite of all the spring colors
is brown.
Yes.
As in chocolate brown.
As in deep, dark, Hershey-lovin' sweetmeat.

Brown. Burnt sienna. Tan. Henna. Hazel.
Chestnut. Umber. And maroon.
But, oh-
good chocolate is like a rainbow on the tongue!

Those little 3-D hollow rabbits
could very well be long fanged dinosaurs-
but the milk chocolate appendages
would still be as appealing
as a set of cocoa-covered bunny ears.

And what a genius who created
those chocolate Cadbury eggs!
They look so innocent-
so small.

But,
believe me-
they pack a big punch of chocolate
that disappears within minutes.
Just crack that chocolate baby open
and savor the smooth taste of heaven
for less than the price of a candy bar.

Another plus-

they fit so perfectly             
in a purse
or palm,
or anywhere you might want
to hide them from chocolate burglars.
(Or those joy-robbers
that might suggest
they are an unhealthy
calorie-laden
sugar-rush).

What I cannot understand
is how in the heck
do the jelly bean makers
stay in business?

Really.
I mean, so you have this choice:
Rich, tongue-teasing chocolate-
or a bit of granulated jelly
encased in a cheap candy shell?

Oh, sure- jelly beans are attractive
displayed in a cute candy dish
or sprinkled among
the green shreds
of cellophane grass.

But when it comes to pleasing
the palate,
they are pitiful substitutes
for true confections-
such as chocolate.

So,
you can have your spring colors.
Your huge, bright,
pink and purple
and apricot
Jelly-Bean World.

I'll just be right over here.
In Brown Town.
Lovin' every melt-in-your-mouth moment!

And The Prize Goes To.....

This morning I'm being interviewed by
my good blogging friend, Dee-
over at http://dee-theredheadedstepchild.blogspot.com/

Dee has this amazing unselfish nature
that makes her want to advertise unknown talent
that is bouncing around the Blog Planet.
She's like the Mother Teresa of Bloggers.

Really.
If there was a Nobel Prize for promoting
the sisterhood of writers and their forums,
Dee would have a giant gold medal
almost as big as her heart.

Please take a look at
all the great bloggers that she's linked here.
Right there in the lefthand column,
are enough great writers
to turn your morning coffee break
into an all day latte fest.

Relax, Read.
Have a good Laugh.
A great cry.
A heapin' helpin' of this
vitrual smorgasbord of
estrogen gone wild!

See you back here tomorrow!

And, thanks, Dee!
 

It's About Time Someone Asked

Yesterday I was making some last minute
arrangements for my upcoming trip.
I relayed the neccessary information
to the pleasant lady on the phone
and she confirmed my reservations.

"Do you have any special needs?" she asked,
catching me in a strange mood.

All I could see is this big
conversation bubble popping out
over my head,
my fingertip touching my chin,
my eyes glancing innocently
toward the heavens
as I pondered the question.

Then my video daydream started...

There I am.
Standing on a podium.
Making a speech.

"Yes! I have special needs!
You better believe it, Buster!"
And I know I speak for all the
women across this great nation
when I voice my list of needy things!"

1. We need a chocolate bar that
is both terrifyingly delicious, 
but also calorie free.


2. We need toilet paper
that replaces itself on the holder.


3. We need carpet that vacuums itself,
floors that never need mopped,
and a house that never gets dusty.


4.We need a vacation every three months
and a mini-nap every day.


5. We need bras that fit,
underwear that doesn't creep up,
and pajamas that are both super comfy 
and sophisticated-ly sexy.


6. We need heels that feel like sneakers,
sneakers that feel like slippers,
and slippers that feel like bare feet.


7. We need to be told we are pretty
even when we look ugly-
that we look thin, even when we are fat,
and that we are funny, even when 
we can't remember the punchline.


8. We need a good hairstyle.
One that won't take $15.73 worth
of product every week to keep it
full, soft, colorful, manageable and shiny.


9. We need to outlaw irons and ironing boards.
It is both an outdated and demeaning act
that has no place in modern society.
(Sorry, Tina!)


10. We need elegant perfume, jewelry
and clothing at discount prices.


11. We need a Big Lots right next door.


12. We need nail polish that dries in a second, 
eyebrows that stay plucked,
and tummy's that stay tucked.


13. We need cars that are fast, cool, economical, and fashionable-
but still large enough to hold every flea market bargain imaginable.


14. We need the secret to a perfect pie crust.


15. We need to be able to buy
Botox in a bag,
boobs in a bottle.
and youth in a pill.

...suddenly the video daydream fades...
The crowd grows small.
Night falls.
I step down from my soap box.
And return to the real world.

I ask you today, ladies-
Do you have special needs?

Let your voice be heard!

Education and Elimination

A few years ago,
when my son was younger,
he would often
have a few friends over
for a camp out
or a day of fishing.

On one such occasion,
his favorite little friend asked,
"Why do you have
books in the bathroom?"

I was shocked.
Puzzled.
Didn't every one in the
whole wide world
have a virtual library
in their bathrooms?
Weren't magazines as common
next to the stool
as toilet paper?

I just smiled
and said,
"Because we like to read."

Looking back on my answer now,
I guess it was true.
I suppose what I failed to tell him is
that it makes the bathroom experience
more pleasurable-
and quite often, less time consuming.

There is something almost perfect
about a little quiet room
with the door shut-
away from outside interference-
like a safe, comfortable cave
where we perform our primal functions.

Part of my spring cleaning ritual this week
was to tidy and refresh the reading material
in our bathrooms.

I was startled at the variety
that lay tumbled
in the "reading basket"-
but mostly I noticed
how vastly different
my literature choices
were from my husbands.

Here are some excerpts
from a few pages to give you an idea
of what I'm talking about.
For example:

HIS magazine:
"The minimum submergence from the tank floor is dictated by the vertical cage dimension plus the needed 150mm (6 in) submergence above the top of the cage..."

MY magazine:

"Energize your fall outfits with these snazzy statement makers. Thanks to darling collars, colors, and textures, they instantly upgrade basic bottoms and focus attention above the waist..."

HIS book:
"The Strategic Defense Initiative, Ronald Reagan's dream that would, in theory, render intercontinental ballistic missiles obsolete, has been reintroduced as a planned defense strategy by President George W. Bush..."

MY book:

"Arnold discovered that he was the biological father of 807 children, and that one of these was his fiancee, Carol. The dismayed couple's engagement was immediately broken off."

HIS catalog:
"Highly frangible, jacketed, open tip that maintains integrity at high velocities in fast twist barrels. Reduced ricochet. limited penetration. great for steel targets..."

MY catalog:

"These delightful ladybugs or frogs will add a welcoming glow that is sure to be noticed in any pathway or garden.Line a walkway or create a cute focal point."

HIS publication:
"Hedge funds are notorious for investing in a wide range of risky strategies, including commodities options. futures contracts and the little-understood derivatives market where complex swaps amount to little more than financial gambling..."

MY publication:
"This month take an afternoon to declare pajama day- stay in them as long as possible and just putter around the house. Also, take ten bucks to the dollar store and see how much cool stuff you can find..."

Well,
as you can see-
there is quite a variety
available for your entertainment
and comfort
when you come to visit.

But it's weird.
Suddenly, I feel so dumb.

Detour

Please see my Ten in 10 blog post for today. http://rae-tenin2010.blogspot.com/
Thanks! Have a great day!

Battle of the Bulge

It never fails.

Every single time I get a
good head start on my diet,
some celebration-
or holiday-
or important event
sabotages my success.

Fattening food just seems to find me.
Seeks me out.
Smothers me.
Attaches itself to obvious places
on my anatomy
and sucks the skinny out of me.

I find it's easier to
give in
than to fight with
chocolate,
punch it out with pastries,
or joust with junk food.

It's a losing battle.

Especially this time of year
when the Easter Bunny
starts pooping out dozens of
Cadbury Eggs everywhere I look.

They are at the checkout lanes,
the gas station counter,
the bank lobby
and the dollar store.

But let me warn you now.
They are not innocent little eggs.
They are bombs.
Filled with explosive calories
that will blow up your diet.

You are much better off
eating the ears off hollow rabbits.
Even if they taste like wax
or brown plastic.
Cheap chocolate is better
than no chocolate,
I always say.

Anyway,
I woke up today feeling very strong.
Refreshed.
Ready to do what needed to be done
to fit in those old jeans.

Then I find out that tomorrow
is Chocolate Covered Raisin Day.

At least I'm getting fair warning.
At least I can hide somewhere safe
until those Raisinette rebels
march past my house
on their way to the movie theater.

I mean, let's face it-
if they weren't covered in chocolate
they would just be dried,wrinkly fruit
that I would never take a second look at.

(But,
they really got it going on
with that delectable coat
of sweet confection.)

And they know it.

Blasted raisins!

The year starts out with
a ton of alcohol,
moves to a football field of nachos,
then fills its giant heart with bonbons,
grabs you with it's jelly beans jaws
and chocolate coated everything.

Then about May,
the year starts offering
potato salad and shortcake
and ice cream and barbecue.
Sweet corn
and apple pie
and bratwurst
and cold beer.

Then around November.
it switches back to sweets
like cookies and pumpkin bread
and chocolate covered cherries
and fruit cake.

It is truly a war.

Now...ugh...
hummmm....
Have you seen my white flag anywhere?

Radar Love

Last week, I finally took my dog , Radar, to the vet.
He had been suffering from some type of allergy
since fall.
On the last visit, the doctor said to simply
wait it out and it might disappear with the
colder weather.

It didn't.

His scratching woke me up at night,
drove me bonkers all day,
and caused me to say "Stop it!"
over a million zillion times.

So, after a quick shot for allergies
and a pill for fleas -
we were $75 poorer.
But hopeful that his
legs drumming the carpet
and his incessant wiener licking
would finally cease.

I hated to get my hopes up,
but by that evening I had
noticed a drastic change.

I glanced over at my husband
as we watched TV that night.
"Have you noticed that
he's stopped I-T-C-H-I-N-G ?",
I spelled out.

"A little, I guess.
Did they give him a S-H-O-T?"
my husband asked.

"Yeah. He was good, though.
And they gave him a P-I-L-L."

"Did you give him a T-R-E-A-T?"

"Of course. And a T-O-Y
that I'm saving for later."

Then my husband looks over
at me with sudden disgust.
"Why are we spelling?," he asks.

"Because he doesn't know he's a D-O-G.
He thinks he's a B-O-Y," I say.

And I smile.
It is truly amazing how an animal
can come into your life
and bring such utter comfort.
Radar filled a little void
after the kids grew up
and left home.

My husband shakes his head.
"You are S-I-C-K," he tells me.

"But, you're right," he adds,
Our B-O-Y sure is C-U-T-E."

Empty nest syndrome
sure has some
mighty strange side effects.

I Am Woman- Hear Me Roar

Recently, I had to send off for
a certified copy of my birth certificate
because of an upcoming trip.

It came in yesterday's mail
and I quickly opened it
to assure it was all in order.

My sister Tina was visiting
and I told her
that I finally got my certificate!
I scanned it over with a quick mumble.
All on fancy blue stationary-
Mom's name,
Dad's name,
Date of birth,
City,
County,
My name,
and my sex.

WHAT?
The certificate stated: MALE.

Tina laughed.
I did a quick check down the front
of my sweater
and then proceeded to get mad.

Was this someone's idea
of a joke?
Was there some family secrets
that no one spoke of?
Were those tiny black hairs
appearing on my chin lately
just a precursor to the hidden truth?

I immediately made a phone call
to straighten out this crazy gender bender.

"Well, " they said, "if it is our mistake
we will correct it.
If it's wrong on the original document,
it will require a process-
which usually takes about eight weeks-
in order to make the necessary corrections.
Plus- you will have to prove you're a woman."

At that point,
I didn't know whether to
laugh or cry.

They said they could let me know
the results of the original records
in thirty minutes or so.

I waited.
And waited.

My trip was already paid for ,
(scheduled sooner than eight weeks)-
and they certainly weren't
gonna let me get on that plane
unless....
well...let's be frank here-
Unless I taped my titties
and grew some balls.

I called my husband on his lunch hour.
"Honey", I said in my deepest voice,
"Did you know you are married to a man?"
Silence.
Then, with total confusion in his voice,"What?"

I explained the situation-
and as always, he was cool headed
and told me they would probably get it
all straightened out.

If not, he sure would have
some major explaining to do
to all those macho guys at work.

Finally, the phone rang
and the nice lady told me
that it was their mistake.
The original said FEMALE.
And she put a revised copy
in the mail to me.

Just a little scare.
But enough to get me riled.

The best part of the whole
crazy situation
is that my husband came home
with a big smile on his face.

"I'm a woman!" I laughed,
telling him that they fixed the mistake.

"Prove it," he said.

And I did.

Mr. Rogers

This Saturday is not only the
first day of spring,
but it is also"
"Won't You Be My Neighbor" Day.

In celebration,
I decided to post my
blog entry from last year
that honored Mr. Rogers.

Hope you enjoy it...again. :)

__________________________












I had been out all day-
My nerves were shot,
my feet were tired-
but my long list of chores
was finally completed at last.

I couldn't wait
to get home and relax.

I hadn't thought much about it before-
this routine that I go through
when I get back home from some place...

...I usually toss off my uncomfortable shoes
and replace them with sneakers if I'm
going back outside...
I'll hum a little tune...
and I put on my favorite old sweater...

And today for the first time
I realized
that ...
I've turned into Mr. Rogers!

It's crazy, I know-
but hauntingly real at the same time.

My husband is so much like King Friday
and my sister sometimes acts like
Lady Elaine Fairchilde!
And my mail lady
is suspiciously starting to
look like Mr. McFeely!

I'm starting to speak softer,
dream about field trips,
and sing silly songs!
And sometimes I imagine myself
in the Neighborhood of Make Believe.

God help me if I go out
and buy a little trolley car!

So-upon this sudden realization-
I decided to do a little research
into the role-model
I had apparently morphed into.

Here's what I found out :

Every sweater that Fred Rogers wore
was hand knit by his mother.

Upon meeting Mr. Rogers for the first time,
Koko the Gorilla, (who learned
up to 1,000 words in sign language),
greeted him with a big hug-
then proceeded to take his shoes off of him.

Mr. Rogers weighed himself every single day.
He stayed at 143 pounds for the last
30 years of his life.
He found peace in the number 143.
He explained it by saying that
it takes one letter to say "I'.
Four letters to say "love".
And three letters to say "you".

He was genuinely kind.
While on a trip to a PBS executive's house,
he discovered that the limo driver
was expected to wait in the car for 2 hours.
Mr. Rogers invited him to come in and join them.

Later, Fred rode in the front seat
and he asked to meet the driver's family.
They went to the chauffeur's house,
played jazz piano and
talked throughout the night.
The two shared notes and
stayed in touch the rest of his life.

So-
maybe it's not that bad-
-Me turning into Mr. Rogers and all...
(Except I haven't got the weight thing
going for me yet ...)

We could all aspire to be like him.
With kindness toward others
and positive thoughts,
we could actually improve our quality of life.

Just wake up one morning and realize-
it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood!

Wednesday's Rant

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I don't really know much about it
accept that there is green beer,
shamrocks and cabbage.

I suppose that's reason enough to celebrate.
And, if you like the color green
and leprechauns-
then this is your day.

But I'm not really here today
to talk about St. Patrick's Day celebrations.

I am here to offer a little etiquette advice.

ALL CHRISTMAS DECOR SHOULD BE
TOTALLY REMOVED BY ST.PATRICK'S DAY!

Maybe I'm being too hard on some people.
Maybe they are in wheelchairs
or on extended tropical vacations
or are still waiting for Santa.

I happen to pass by this certain nice home
every time I go into town.
The porch is still covered with
Christmas.

A big wooden sled,
a holly wreath,
snowmen,
strings of lights
and red bows.

Seriously, people.

Get out of your cave
and take a look around.
Daffodils are blooming,
for Heaven's sake!
We have already celebrated
New Years,
Valentine's Day,
Groundhog Day,
Daylight Savings Time
and now
St. Patrick's Day.

Please take that crappy snowman
off your porch
before I go insane!

For one thing,
it was sorta tacky to begin with.
Too cutesy, really.
A bit overdone.
I bet you've got a house full
of coffee-dyed dolls
giant metal stars
and red, white and blue.

That's perfectly fine.
I can't see it.

But that snowman on the porch
is about to get drop-kicked
into next Christmas
if you don't remove him soon.

I'm growing tired of his
irritating coal-studded smile,
stick arms
and over fluffy red scarf.

I know they have local ordinances
that issue tickets for junky yards,
abandoned cars,
expired yard sale signs
and such annoying things.

I vote we ticket people
who leave their Christmas decorations
out past the first of March.

Who votes with me?

The whole freakin world can't wait till spring
and whoever you are in that big green house-
you are forcing winter upon us every time we pass.

I would hate to be your neighbor.
'Fraid we'd be having a war going on about now.

Hey, I'm easy to get along with.
You can have your gazing balls
and yard silhouettes
and even those creepy Expedia garden gnomes.

But, please...
Spring is only three days away
and Christmas
was three months ago!
Nix the porch decor.

Now.

Sorry.
That's my rant for today.

Now- here's wishin'
you fortune and rainbows
and the luck 'o the Irish!

Top 'o the mornin' to ye!

March

March trudges on.

He walks through my days with
his brown, heavy boots-
thick with mud
and shards of winter.

I let him pass-
allow him
to fill my days with cold rain
and sunless afternoons
and his occasional
fits of thunder.

He promises me things.
Says he brings gifts.
Soft things
like butterflies
and ivory clouds
and velvet clover.

He teases me.
Assures me the days ahead
will be green
and full
and bright with sunshine.
Tells me I'll run barefoot
and smile
and wish upon the stars again.

He reminds me of sand
and strawberries
and hummingbirds
and hope.

But for now...

I wrap myself in
a cave of umbrellas.
Hide while the lightning
strikes in the distance
and dampness fills my veins.

I shake.
Tremble.
Ache with spring fever.

And he laughs.

F-Packs

I’m going on a vacation in a few weeks, so I’ve torn up my closets  trying to find and organize my luggage.

Somehow I’ve procured several mismatched sets and carry-on’s - and even a few with broken handles, missing wheels and hotel soap still tucked into the netting.

Wow…I’ve sure come a long way since the paper sacks my husband and I stuffed our clothes into on our very first vacation.

I will probably do a lot of walking on this trip and have considered what type of purse to carry that will be comfortable as well as roomy.

And I almost choke every time I realize that my best choice by far is the F-Pack.

No offense to those of you who regularly use a Fanny Pack, but somehow I’ve always placed the F-Pack in the same league as chain wallets, acid washed jeans tucked into slouch socks, and mullets.

It’s a shameful discrimination that I find myself abandoning –because suddenly I see the advantages of a super, all-in-one bag that requires no hands or shoulders to carry.

In an attempt to familiarize myself with this much misunderstood fashion accessory, I studied Wikipedia this morning.

Wikipedia says this:

The fanny pack (Canada, US),

belt pack (US),

belly bag (US),

Buffalo pouch (US),

hip sack (US),

hip pack (UK),

or bum bag (UK, Oceania),

moon bag (South Africa),

the Joe bag,

or man bag,

is a small fabric pouch secured with a zipper and worn at the waist by a strap around the hips or waist.

The name "fanny pack" is derived from the fact that they were traditionally worn facing the rear above the buttocks, for which fanny is a slang term in America.

Despite the name, many do not wear fanny packs on their rear because they are easier to pick pocket and harder to access. In English-speaking Canada, due to proximity to the United States, "fanny pack" is the more commonly used term as well.

In the United Kingdom and Anglophone Oceania, the term "bum bag" or "belt bag" is used, since the word "fanny" means vagina, rather than buttocks, in those countries.

I just really don’t think my husband is going to let me run all over creation with a “vagina bag”  fanny pack locked around my waist.

Can’t you just hear the conversation on the beach?

“Hey, hon, could you reach into your vagina bag  fanny pack and find me some crackers?”

“Your vagina bag fanny pack looks a little puffy today.What have you got in it?”

Stranger in the restaurant: “Wow! I love that vagina bag  fanny pack. I’ve never seen one like it before!”

Crap. An F-Pack is now totally out of the question. Thanks, Wikipedia!

______________________________

March 13 is International Fanny Pack Day.

Wear yours proudly!!!!

http://www.facebook.com/pages/International-Fanny-Pack-Day/277658555271?v=photos#!/pages/International-Fanny-Pack-Day/277658555271?v=wall

La, La, La, La La….

My husband often wakes up with an earworm.

No, it’s not a larvae or a bug or any kind of insect at all.

Earworm is the term used for “ the most common type of what’s called “involuntary imagery,” sounds, pictures, smells, and even tastes that repeatedly come to mind unbidden.”

Having earworms can also be described as “getting a song stuck in your head”.

We’ve all done it.

…Walked around with “Zippity-Do-Da” or “Achey Breaky Heart, or the theme song from the Beverly Hillbillies running over and over in our brains.

Sometimes it gets stuck there all day- appearing as you awake and following you through lunch and dinner and until sleep finally stops that repetitive lyrical madness.

James Kellaris, a professor of marketing at the University of Cincinnati has done years of research to learn more about a theory of his -known as “cognitive itch.” According to Kellaris, “certain pieces of music may have properties that excite an abnormal reaction in the brain” — in other words, your brain detects something extraordinary or unusual about the music that compels attention.

Your brain tries to process the itch by repeating it, which only makes things worse — like itchy skin.

Kellaris finds the music most likely to cause an earworm has one or more of three key qualities: repetitiveness, simplicity, and what he calls incongruity, often an unexpected rhythmic variation.

A 2003 study by Kellaris showed that nearly 98 percent of people experienced earworms, usually involving sung rather than instrumental tunes.

While women and men experienced earworms equally often, women had to put up with them for longer and were more likely to be peeved.

Kellaris’s research also suggests that musicians and those inclined to worry are particularly susceptible to worm attacks.

My husband’s ear worms would be okay except for the fact he sings them out loud- and then I catch them-

and then, there we are…

… drinking coffee and singing “God Bless America” or “Polly-Wolly-Doodle All The Day”.

Like a couple of losers.

With giant, annoying earworms.

Studies show you can’t do much about it.

Try concentrating on another song, or seek some type of distraction.

Or just let it worm it’s way out.

That’s what I’m hoping will happen today.

That this rock and roll earworm beating “In-a-goda-da-vida” inside my brain will finally give up and go elsewhere.

But I suppose it’s better than last weeks earworm:

“I’m so pretty,

Oh, so pretty,

I feel pretty and witty and bright…

I feel dizzy,
I feel sunny,
I feel fizzy and funny and fine…”

And, I’ll let you in on a secret:

I caught that one from my husband.

Awesome!!!

March 10th every year is the official International Day of Awesomeness.

And my mother was one of the most awesome people I know.

I just wish I had known her longer. And better.

I’ve spent more of my life with my husband (and almost my children) than I did with her.

Yet, her kindness and love has traveled with me through these years. Always comforting me during hard times… always sharing my joys in days that were bright.

She raised nine kids in a two bedroom house, never learned to drive, and spoke two languages.

She played the mandolin, once sang at the Keil Auditorium in St. Louis, and loved soap operas.

She liked coffee, donuts, and ice cream.

She sometimes wore dresses with nylons,

Calvin Klein jeans from yard sales, and an apron full of wooden clothespins.

She never dyed her hair,

had a manicure,

smoked,

or drank liquor.

Once in awhile she would cuss, much to our surprise. "Mom!"’,we would say, our eyes wide in wonder and disgust.

“Shit Fire!" was her favorite thing to mumble under her breath when the bills, or us kids, or a stubbed toe got the best of her.

But she never allowed us to use curse words- and she always kept us within ear shot just in case we were tempted.

She did her daily tasks without complaint. Ironing, washing, mopping and cooking.

Sewing, sweeping, dusting, cleaning. Packing lunches, balancing the budget…..and still she found time to ask us about our day and to tell us about hers.

She rarely wore jewelry, makeup, or

perfume. But Evening in Paris or some Avon brand always had a spot on the top of her dresser.

She had favorite dolls on her bed, miniature figurines in her kitchen and neighbors that she loved.

When I was about ten years old, she found out she had lymphoma. And after that, it seemed the years were memories of ups and downs and surgeries and recoveries and good days and bad days.

But there was always hope.

And always faith.

And Mom never lost her motherliness- her kindness-

her gentle and funny ways.

She died when I was 32.

But her awesomeness never did.

It lives on in all her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren-and beyond.

I see it every time I smell a lilac,

hear a mandolin,

eat a jelly donut,

or mop my floors.

I feel it every time I need comfort,

have questions, or feel despair.

And every single time that I mumble

“Shit Fire!"”

 

Mom, you were awesome!

And today I celebrate your awesomeness!

Thank You!

If I Were….

My good blogger friend, Dee- over at the ever-growing and popular blog site- The Red-Headed Stepchild,  posted this quiz on her site…and for lack of any original material, I’m gonna steal it and tweak it a bit. Thanks, Dee!

What If I could be……..Hummmmmm…..

If I were a month, I would be October. Always floating a fine line between summer and fall. Loving cool nights… soft, cinnamon days- and beautiful colors.

If I were a day of the week, I’d probably be Wednesday and they’d call me the Old Hump.

 If I were a time of day, I’d be about 11:30 a.m. - Nap Time.

If I were a planet, I’d be my children’s moon and peek in their window at night… and shine on them and give them peace.

If I were a sea animal, I’d be dead. Because I can’t swim.

If I were a direction, I would be very, very confused.

If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a soft, wide chair with jelly stains and crayon marks and silver coins under the cushions.

If I were a liquid, I’d be Tequila. (without the worm).

If I were a gemstone, I’d be a chunk of coal-trying my best to look like a diamond.

If I were a tree, I’d be an artificial Christmas tree so I would never have to die. And so I could spend my life watching happy people and smelling  warm baked cookies.

If I were a tool, I’d be a glue gun. Because I’m a Mom. Always trying to mend, fix, save and unite my family.

If I were a flower, I’d be a daffodil. Because everyone would love to see me coming and hate to see me go.

If I were a kind of weather, I would be an evening in May… 72 degrees with a sky full of stars and a soft breeze and the songs of crickets.

If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a guitar. So my husband would fondle me on a regular basis and we’d make beautiful music together.

If I were a color, I would be blue. Like the sky and the ocean… But I’d be envious of all the gold’s and silver’s and cool metallic's.

If I were an emotion, I’d be love. Because “Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy.
Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude;
It is not self-seeking, nor easily angered.
It keeps no record of wrongdoing.
It does not delight in evil,
But rejoices in the truth.
It always protects, trusts, hopes, and preserves.
There is nothing love cannot face;
There is no limit to its faith, hope, and endurance”.

If I were a fruit, I’d be ripe pear. Yellow, freckled, plump and sweet.

If I were a sound, I’d be laughter.

If I were a car, I’d be a little rusty, but a lot dependable. High mileage but low maintenance.

If I were a food, I’d be pizza. So I’d never get tired of myself. And I could wear something different everyday. Spicy-sweet and usually stuffed.

If I were a place, it would be wherever my family is.

If I were a material, I would be terry cloth. Cheap, but comfortable. Absorbent, but not abrasive. And I’d smell like Snuggle.

If I were a taste, I’d be salty..like crispy hot French fries, the rim of a perfect margarita …the taste of vinegar chips.

If I were a scent, I’d be my mother’s perfume, so that she would always be with me.

If I were an object, I would be a rabbit’s foot.Let people rub me all day and make their wishes come true.

If I were a body part, I would be a neck. So I’d get kissed a lot, covered up well when it’s cold, and get adorned with beautiful jewelry.

If I were a facial expression, I’d want to be a happy surprise. Because everybody likes surprises.

If I were a song, I would be “Que Sera Sera”…

“Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be. “

If I were a pair of shoes,  I’d be a pair of slippers. I’d never get muddy and I’d get to watch TV at night and even get to walk on the good carpet.

 

Now- it’s your turn!!

It sure gets your mind thinking.

Let me know your If’s! :)

Monday, Monday…

That’s a tune from the Mamas and the Papas, I think.

“Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine
Yeah…

but whenever Monday comes,
But whenever Monday comes

a-you can find me cryin' all of the time…”

Monday means:

Another week of planning meals

VDM-(Vacuum, dust, mop)

Laundry catch-up

Waiting for Friday

Another episode of Jack Bauer saving the world from nuclear bombs

Weekend trash to wrestle to the curb

Leftovers

New mail !

Another chance to start a diet.

Another chance to figure out what happened to the last diet

A day closer to spring

A day closer to death

A fresh slate

Clean sheets

New friends

Old friends

Blog updates

I know this post is really lame, but it is an experiment of my new Windows Live Writer.

Let’s insert a Tag:

Technorati Tags: THIS IS WRITTEN FROM MY NEW LAPTOP !

 

How about a Map?

Let’s try a picture…..

A table?   SPRING

Pros	Cons
Warmer	Grass grows

 

So cool!

Lovin this.

But I’m afraid there won’t be any VDM being done today.

Thanks for playing with me today!

Celebrate your Monday!

My To Do's For Spring Clean

Well, it is finally March-
and can Spring be far behind?

It's a shame that I can't just
concentrate on the grass growing
and the daffodils blooming-
but that the word "cleaning"
has to buddy up with "spring"
and make the whole ordeal
a little less wonderful.

Ten Things I Need To Do Now
Because It's Spring:

1. Throw out the fruit cake from Christmas,
the potato chips from New Years,
and the last chocolate covered cherry
from Valentine's Day.
Replace those with fresh fruit,
Baked Lays,
and stupid chocolate pudding cups
that in no way imitates or replaces
a real chunk of chocolate.

2. Open the bedroom windows
and air the place out.
It's a dark den of tangled sheets
and heavy curtains-
with a nightstand of tissues,
cough drops
and Rolaids.
It smells like a fart.
I'm hoping to remedy that
with fresh air,
Febreeze,
sunshine
and a giant feather duster.

3. Replace the three burnt bulbs outside,
pick up the tree branches from the
last snowstorm,
and remove my fake poinsettias
from the front porch.
Wade through mud
to burn trash,
check on my tulips
and get the mail from
the last few days.

4. Clean my closets.
Finally get rid of the dancing Santa,
the plastic geraniums,
the CPO jacket,
and the purple generic Crocs.
Throw away all my Old Navy hangers,
my WalMart sacks
and those jeans that I'll
probably never squeeze my
thighs into again.

5. Organize my drawers.
Eradicate any underwear and socks
with holes, safety pins,
rotten elastic
or glow-in-the-dark hearts.
Give all slips,
thongs,
long johns
and stained tee shirts
to Goodwill.

6. Clean the pantry.
Toss the black-eyed peas
from 2008,
the sugar that is hard as concrete,
the crackers that never got sealed
and the popcorn that
Orville Redenbocker made
as a child.
Rearrange the giant pots and pans,
electric skillets, blenders,
grills, choppers, slicers,
pitchers, trays
and assortment of other
"I need " items
that I never really need.

7. Give the entertainment center
a good overhaul.
Dust, shine
and wipe all surfaces.
Sort through CD's, DVD's
and yes- VCR tapes.
Tie up all loose cords,
dangling plugs,
unused remotes
and expired TV Guides.

8. Clean the garage.
Pick up the decor from the
Halloween party.
Put the Christmas tree
in the attic.
Move the patio furniture
to the back yard
and sweep up the mound
of dead ladybugs.

9. Plan my garden.
Put it all in a nice notebook
like I did last year.
(Too bad I never looked at it
after the seeds arrived in the mail.)
Pull Samuel (my scarecrow) out
and give him a nice outfit
to wear for the new season.

10. Rest.
Pull up my hair, my feet,
my chin
and just take it slow.
Reflect,
rejoice,
renew
and rejuvenate
with good music,
bird songs,
lilacs,
a warm breeze.
A juicy pear,
a long prayer,
a pedicure
and a porch pondering.

Spring is coming soon.
What's on your list?

The King of Sala-Ma-Sond

Tomorrow is the birthday of Dr. Seuss.
One of my favorite memories
is sitting down with my sister Linda
and reading Yertle the Turtle.

We read it hundreds of times-
until the spine of the book collapsed
and the pages became
worn and dogeared.
We never forgot the image of those
turtles all stacked upon one another
and then collapsing into the muddy pond.

Or the image of the fly coughing
far away on a distant mountain
and Horton hearing it clearly.

Or Lolla-Lee-Lou wanting
a huge plume of feathers
and then not being able to fly
once her wish was granted.

I think those stories taught us
lessons that we still utilize today.
And gave us a warm memory to share
when we are old ladies.

So, here's to Dr. Seuss-
For the lives he changed
with his simplistic rhymes
and comical characters.
Happy Birthday!
*********

This is not a day for making pies.
For roller skates or swatting flies.

This is not a day for rubber boots.
It is not a day for woolen suits.

It is for celebrating Dr. Seuss!

I think we should have green eggs and ham-
Invite Horton, the Grinch
and Yertle and Sam...

Just like one big happy fam !

Invite small and tall
and thin and fat-
Just roll out the Welcome mat !

And give a shout to Cat in the Hat.
What do you think about that?

I think we should Hop on Pop-
Find Fox in Socks
and run the Zoo-
Find One Fish, Two Fish
and a fish of Blue.

We will invite
Gertrude FcFuzz and Lolla-Lee-Lou-

That's just what we've planned.
That's just what we'll do!

We will sing and eat cake
with Thidwick the Moose

For today is the birthday
of Doctor The Seuss!