Happiness Is A Choice

National Kiss and Make Up Day- really?

 

 

On Tuesday, in my INBOX, I received an email from a 1- 800 florist letting me know that Wednesday, August 25th was National Kiss and Make Up Day.  Now, I like flowers as much as the next gal, and I love to kiss and make up, but I must question the focus of my elected officials if they have time to debate and ratify a motion to make a national day for kissing and making up.  I suspect that these folks must have a lot of kissing and making up to do, and in the interest of expediency, they want to get all of it over with on one day.  Your average citizen however, probably does quite a bit of kissing and making up throughout the year, and doesn't need anyone inventing another opportunity for groveling.  So, I implore my representatives and senators to keep their own hearths swept.  Put your time, energy and intellect into working on some of the issues that make me so cranky that I behave in a way that warrants a whole lot of kissing and making up.

Sorry for the interruption of my regularly scheduled blogging- or, a shout out to Jennie P.

On previous occasions I have attempted to blog- and fallen miserably short of reaching any sort of consistent pace.  My friend Jennie P. would get me started, cheer me on and then shake her head with dismay as I sputtered and hiccuped and eventually petered out. 

This time I made no promises- at least not to Jennie.  Internally, I vowed to stick with it and blog at least every other day.  Then a close friend went on a year long vacation where she got to take all of her stuff- and her kids- with her (there was some playground gossip that implied she had moved from CA to MD, but obviously those folks don't know her very well, because she told me it was just a very long vacation).  My older two children headed back to college (not on the same day and not to the same place) my third started band camp and then high school and my youngest transitioned from elementary to middle school.  And just so I could make it really exciting, I started my fourth and final term towards getting my teaching credential. 

So excuses excuses, I didn't post for a few days!  To make up for it I'm going to shoot for three in one evening- and hope you aren't bored out of your minds reading them (please read them).  Jennie, I hope you're not discouraged with me yet!  Note:  looking for a picture of Jennie to add to this post, but I don't have anything digital...Jennie, are you out there?  Jennie?  I know you want to email me some hot picture of you and your five,  5,  FIVE kids.



Found this picture..Jennie is a GRANDMA of two as well, can you even tell which one she is?  Hint: not the angel in the middle!  Well that's all for now.  Some time I'll post some of our adventures together- driving through red lights with six kids in the car, exploding soda cans, frozen eyeball liquid, and Pretty Pretty Princess!

Sunglasses are not headbands- or why do my children have an opinion about my appearance?

 
 

I am blind as a bat- no kidding.  I can never be without my glasses, and as I age, my need for protection from road/pool/beach/metallic glare has only increased.  Through my friend Terri, I discovered these sunglasses- Solar Shields (available at Longs and WalMart for about $20)- which fit right over my regular glasses.  I can't begin to describe the level of convenience I have experienced since I started using these sunglasses.  Now, I don't have to take off my glasses, find someplace safe to set  them down (my purse would be the polar opposite of a safe place, as would any area in my car, any counter in my home, a pocket, etc).  Instead, I can simply slide these on over my glasses and then put them up on my head when I'm not in need of sun protection.  Pure genius.  As an added benefit when they fall off my head and the dog steps on them, I only have to pay $20 to replace them, not the $400 (yes, hundred) my prescription sunglasses cost. 

These magical sunglasses also perform another valuable service- they hold my hair off my face, much the way a headband would.  Awesome mulitasking on the part of the sunglasses and impressive tool implementation by yours truly.  "So," you might ask, "what's the problem?"  Well as far as I could tell there was no problem- until my daughter muttered under her breath, "sunglasses are not headbands!"

Honestly- who the heck is looking at me?  I'm 49, chunky, wrinkled and graying.  I can guarantee you that the only person looking closely at me in the mirror is...ME.  It turns out however, that I own too many solid color tops, I should wear more make up, and I should not have duplicates of any clothing item (no Land's End t-shirts in blue and red and green and white and black) in my closet.  Obviously my girl has not taken to heart the adage that if you find something that fits, is comfortable and within the budget, buy one in every color. 

So if you see a middle aged chubby gal with some wrinkles and gray hair in a solid color top using a pair of sunglasses as a headband being trailed by a beautiful 15 year old who looks like she is talking to herself, say howdy- unless you too might be embarassed to know me!

If Only..

I pilfered (love that word) this video clip from a blog I follow- Coal Creek Farm (www.coalcreekfarm.com).  If only I had the (time, money, clout, connections, energy) I would get private shimmy dancing lessons from Shakira.   She always looks like she's having so much fun!

Designer disposable diapers- now this is something to get your panties all in a knot over!

I'll have to post the photos later- when I can get some kid to teach me how to take the photos off my cell phone and put them onto my desktop????  Suffice it to say that I must first lay down to recover from my recent experience at Target.  While wandering the aisles aimlessly in an effort to avoid going home and cleaning up my office before school starts, I came across boxes of Designer Pampers Disposable Diapers.  That's right folks, I said (well really I wrote but let's not get too picky here), DESIGNER DISPOSABLE DIAPERS!  The list of ridiculous actions that had to take place in order for me to have this experience is one item too long:

1.  Someone said, "let's bring out a line of designer Pampers!"

2.  Someone else (who was probably being paid quite a bit of money) said, "Great idea!"

3.  Some other overpaid sheep/lemming (here after referred to as a shemming) said, "What designer can we get?"  My guess is they were turned down several times by designers' admins who had actually drank their coffee and engaged their cerebral synapse systems before Target finally hooked up with whoever is the "Yeah, sure, I'd love to make my boss look like an idiot" employee for Cynthia Rowley (by the way- who is Cynthia Rowley?).

4. Cynthia Rowley said, "Sure, why not.  I can design some patterns that are gender specific to go on the outside of poop and pee catchers that will be thrown away as well as the next designer- I'm in!"

5.  A shemming at Pampers brought the project all the way through product development.

6.  Many folks participating in consumer focus groups were able to say that they would absolutely buy this product while keeping a straight face- I'm really sorry I didn't get to see that.

7. A complete goof over in Target's merchandising department bought the product to put on the shelves.

8. Some consumer who should not be allowed to raise a goldfish let alone a child bought the darn things.

Now get this- they're on clearance- marked down from $12.99 to $11.48 and some people were actually putting them in their shopping basket! Anyhoo- I think you will agree that this experience requires a glass of Sangria, a cool cloth to the forehead and a half hour 'rest' on the sectional!

(Jennie- Jennie P.,  are you OK- light headed or anything- because this could send you right over the edge!)

What the heck is Aaron doing? or, How to keep an 11 year-old entertained at a wedding!

In the photo at the top left corner you might see an interesting photo...what is that child doing?  It looks like he's in a lovely garden, pretty girls are milling about, and there is all you can eat shrimp at the cocktail buffet;  yet, his eyes are glued to some small black object in his hand.  Unfortunately I need to conscript a college student to help me with technicalities so the writing over the most important element in the photo no longer obscures the important details.  That's my fourth son playing Nintendo DS at his psuedo cousin's wedding reception.  You should have heard the debate over whether or not is was appropriate to play with it during the ceremony in the church.  This kid is definitely going to be a great philibuster (or philibusterer- I'll have to ask Mr. Vergon).

Just drink a banana and eat a glass of water...

Auntie Barb's solution to whatever ails you: a banana and a glass of water!  Turns out it is the cure for headaches, colds, the flu, sore knees and aching hearts.  I'm sure it's good for hangovers, but no one has had to test that posit yet...don't get any ideas, boyos!

 

Happiness is a choice....

Well, once again, my pal Barb has been forced by an international spy to put three thousand miles between us.  Her leaving has led to some reflection on my part (OK I was daydreaming and looking through old boxes of photos so that I could avoid doing homework and dish washing) and I have created a rather significant list of expressions we have developed between us.  In the interest of full disclosure, Barb came up with all the clever ones!  Of course, my favorite is, Happiness is a choice!  Barb and I like to say we are get over it gals, full of hope and optimism- women who see the glass as half full, our yards as green enough, and competitive dressing as an exhausting endeavor.  When our little and not so little ones start to wallow, we are more than happy to remind them that happiness is a choice. Unfortunately, the suggestion does not always dispel Eeyore behavior, but we have every confidence they'll figure it out at some point.  In the next few days, I'll try to post a master list so that you can enjoy our clever wit.

 

The hot chick is Barb.... notice how I have both of my arms wrapped tightly around her, as though my super grip can prevent her from getting on an airplane with her husband, children and dog.  Clearly I need an intervention.

Update:  Notice the wording on the sign to Barb's right- unlike my family, you might read it!