Friday, April 30, 2010
In my Honest Scrap post, I mentioned that I was the 2nd of 9 kids. Therefore there were times that I was left to fend for myself. Thinking about it today, dredged up a lot of things that have bothered me.
One of the things from my childhood that I don't understand is having to go in and sign myself up for swimming lessons at the local YMCA. My mom drove me there and dropped me off. I wasn't that old. Like I said, my long term memory sucks. I so wish I had my hubby's brain. I know it was before middle school (or Jr. High as it was called in the olden days). so I had to be 10 to 12. Anyway, I went into the YMCA and had to sign myself up for swimming. I remember filling out the card, and it came to the question sex. I had no idea what to put there. I vaguely remember asking someone what that meant. Little did I know that I just needed to put F for female. But the question really is, why did I have to go sign myself up for swimming lessons at such a young age? Probably because mom had to go do something else with one of the "younger" kids.
We moved from Colorado to Utah the middle of my 8th grade year. So many kids to get registered into new schools. For some reason, I guess it was important that we all do it on the same day. I don't understand this. My older sister was in her first year of high school, I was in the 8th grade, and the rest of the kids were in elementary school. How do we all go to a new school, on the same day, and get all registered. Lucky me, my uncle got to take me to get registered.
The beginning of my 9th grade year, we were in another school. What did I have to do? I had to go to the Junior High and go to the office by myself. I don't even think I had the right paperwork to transfer from one school to another. I didn't know what I was doing, didn't know how to answer their questions. I just know I was there by myself. Again, no adult there to help me.
Today I was thinking about it all. I'm wondering if this is the reason that I have a problem even going to the grocery store by myself. Or any kind of shopping. I know that as my kids were growing up, I would always, it seems like now, beg them to go places with me. I don't understand how people are content to be alone when they go out. I can't see someone eating at a restaurant by themselves without feeling sorry for them. And I know there are some of you out there that even go to movies by yourself. OMG, that would totally be the end of me. I'll wait for it to come out on video before I'll go by myself, thank you very much.
My hubby is the greatest. Every week we do the grocery shopping together. I love spending the time with him. Little does he know, that he is helping me with my insecurities. Well, until now, when he reads my post :).
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Now on with the award. I guess what I'm supposed to do is list 10 things about myself. Yikes, this is going to be hard.
1. I'm an emotional eater. When I get upset, I have to have any kind of pastry or ice cream. Ok, not any kind of ice cream. Usually any coffee flavored ice cream. The one I bought Sunday was Dreyer's Mud Pie. Oh my, coffee ice cream, chocolate graham cracker type chunks, and ribbons of chocolate. Heaven.
2. I love to laugh. My oldest son Justin always gets me to laugh hysterically. Whenever he is over for dinner, he will do some impressions, and they are spot on. You really should hear his impression of a toilet flushing or a vacuum. But he does great "people" impressions too. This in turn gets me to do the snort laugh, or the gut laugh, or the "trying to start my car" laugh, which makes all my kids laugh at me.
3. I have bad road rage. It's a good thing other drivers can't hear me. I'm bad. Can you say potty mouth?
4. I cry easily. Commercials will make me cry. I can see the same movie 100 times, and cry at the same part every single time. Even if I've come into the movie right at the "cry" point. Me, crying. Not good.
5. I'm addicted to NCIS & Criminal Minds. I get very upset when there is not a new one. But I will watch them every night on cable. The only thing I would love more, is more Abbey on NCIS. I love that girl. She rocks.
6. I'm too compassionate. I will do anything for anybody, sometimes to the detriment of my husband and kids. If you need me, I'm there, but too many times I have been shit on. I'm pulling back and putting more of my love to my immediate family.
7. I love to read. Love, love, love it. And my newest love is my Sony E-Reader. I used to go to the library because I read so fast I felt it was a waste of money to buy books. Now I don't even have to leave my house to "go to the library". Can check out those books any day, any time. And returning them is just as easy.
8. My long term memory sucks. I can't remember anything from my 5th grade year. How old would that make me? Hmm, 10-11. I can remember something from each of my school years, but that one, I can't. Sometimes I think I would like to go get hypnotized but it kind of scares me. What if there was something awful that happened to me?
9. My biggest fear is being murdered. I have this extreme fear of being killed while at work. You know, some past employee or customer coming in and shooting up the place.
10. I'm the number 2 child of 9 kids. The baby of the family was born when I was a senior in high school. My mom never liked me to hold him in public because she didn't want people to think I was an unwed mother. Times have sure changed. I promised myself I would never have a large family because from my own experience, I got lost in the crowd. But then, that is about 100 other blogs.
Now I'm supposed to present this award to the blogs I feel deserve it! In no particular order The rules say to present it to 10. But, I'm so new to the blogging world, that I'm sure the ones I'm following have gotten this award a 100 thousand times. So I'm just going to give some shoutouts.
First to Mammas Cookie Jar. (my daughter). She is the one that has helped me become part of this blog world. Then there is Renee of Renee's Ramblings. She cracks me up. And I just found out that I am now her grandma because she wants my daughter to adopt her. Then there is Mary of My Whimsical Way. She was one of my first followers. The Snarkter, of Snide Commentary. She is so open. These are only a few, but I love all of you that I'm following. And all of you that are following me.
Now, pass it on. All of you are fair game. I love learning things about you.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Let me count the ways.
1. I love that you are always there for me. When I'm down, I know I can turn to you and feel so much better. 2. You have so many personalities. I never know what one I'm going to catch on what day. You always keep me guessing.
3. You don't mind that I bring along my other best friend, milk on ice. The three of us have a great friendship.
4. I can share you with my friends, and no one gets jealous.
5. You don't talk behind my back. just directly to my stomach.
Thanks for being there for me, my buddy, my friend. You are the best!!!!!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
I get really tired of seeing all the hate in the world. I get tired of people thinking it is ok to hate someone for their beliefs, and especially get tired of people praying for the death of someone. I understand that we are all entitled to our thoughts and I'm extremely glad that I live in America where I am allowed to speak my mind. But there comes a point, that I just can't take it anymore. I read the hate day after day, holding my tongue and then, whammo, I blow up. That's what happened yesterday.I know I've mentioned before that I don't like contention. But when it comes to the people I love, the mother bear in me comes out. I have passed this trait, whether it be good or bad, onto my children. I love my kids with all my heart, mind and soul. I found out that my daughter loves me just as much. I watched the mother bear come out of her and then I also watched the tumbling of her soul. I watched as she crumbled because of the hate. Of people saying things and "saying" they weren't directed towards anyone, they just like to rant on facebook. Funny how they can dish it out but they can't take it. Don't get me wrong, I love being on FB. I like some of the applications, and I like to be able to see pictures of people and pictures of their lives. I have even found friends from high school and have started those relationships back up. Because of the hate, my daughter deactivated her FB account and has done the same with her blog. That makes me so, so sad. It also has made some of her followers sad, and they have emailed me about it.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
bapa, how many bullets would it take to kill a dinosaur?
hmmm probably 4 or 5.
probably to the head, most likely in the eye.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
What must be going through these birds minds. "ah, there's a nice clean car, uh, oh, I'm feeling a little rumble in my tummy, oops" SPLAT.
Damn birds. And when it hits your windshield, and you turn on the wiper and spray the fluid, it just smears. errrrrrrr. And do you know, it's like there is some kind of paint in their damn poop. You almost need paint thinner to wash it off your car.
Good thing it rained today!!
The other thing that bugged the crap out of me today was this train. Yup, this very train. There is a switching station just to the south of my work. Sometimes it feels like there is an earthquake going on when they attach to each other. Do you know what their whistles mean? I do. Do you know how I know? Because I got so miffed with them always blowing them, that I sent a fine little email to Union Pacific. Asked them if there was a reason they needed to blow their damn horns for freaking ever. Here is the one I'm always hearing.
lllooonnnggg lllooonnnggg short lllooonnnggg (aahh, horror music to my ears)
That means, "I'm coming to an intersection, I'm coming to an intersection, I SAID, I'M COMING TO AN INTERSECTION"
Some engineers aren't too bad. Toot their little whistles and go on their way. Then there is the engineer today. He must have tooted that horn for a good five minutes. Took him f..o..r..e..v..e..r to get to the intersection, and then HE STARTED BACKING UP. Omg! I have a cap gun in my desk drawer just for these occasions. I pull that sucker out, shoot it a few times at the train, and feel better. (Plus, I like the way it smells when I shoot it) It's probably good they don't know that I'm in my office shooting my toy cap gun at them. They might turn me in for terrorism.
Tomorrow will be a better day, right?
And then, notice how close the garbage can is to said counters.
Monday, April 19, 2010
The other day, me and the hubby were driving to our local Lowes to look at trees for the yard. While we were driving, out of the blue he says, "you will be glad to hear that the air compressor is now working". I look over at him and say, it wasn't working? Apparently it wasn't. But low and behold, now it is.
My husband cracks me up. He has a love/hate relationship with all things men. You know, air compressors, wet/dry vacs, anything that doesn't have feelings or is "alive". So apparently he was trying to get it started after sitting in storage for 6 months. Darn thing, didn't want to work. I am the first to admit, I have no idea about how to make these things work. I didn't know that you had to put oil in a lawn mower, or what it takes to get a snow blower "winter ready". He on the other hand, is very much the Tim Allen aka Tim Taylor on Home Improvement. There hasn't been one thing that I have found that he can't do. This is extremely opposite from my own dad. So when they say that girls marry men like their fathers, ummmm no, not this girl. And that makes me very happy. But I digress.
Do any of your husbands/boy friends get so mad at the object of their affection, say, the air compressor, that when it's not cooperating, he'll make it work, whether it wants to or not. Imagine this, hubby, with his wrench, hitting the compressor, swearing like a sailor. Telling it off. I once saw him get so mad at the wet/dry vac, I began hysterically laughing. Note to self. Don't do this. It makes him madder. Especially when I start spouting things like, "yeah, throw that wet/dry vac out the door, it's crying inside". "It's hurting you more than you are hurting it". And my favorite comeback from him, "it knows it pissed me off and I will always win". haha hehe. Alrighty tough guy, it knows you are boss. Oh, and does this mean we now have to go buy a new one?
After I got done giggling, I told him that this story would make a great blog. He said, just don't say it was me. Say something like, "we were driving down the street when I saw a guy beating the crap out of an air compressor". Oops.
We were driving down the street the other day, when I saw this guy.........
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Saturday we go get the moving truck. Then low and behold it is off to the storage unit. Woo-Hoo. We get to the unit and I am told my job is to sit in the car and read. Gosh, I hate that job. My hubby, my youngest son, and my son-in-law, get out, open the storage unit and make a face. Then they start taking things out of the unit and putting it in front so hubby can start the process of "bring me this". But, you ask. Why did they make a face. Well, apparently, the mice had decided to spend the last few weeks in our little storage unit. And they each decided to invite a friend, and so on, and so on. There is mouse droppings everywhere. There is stink of mouse. All of the sudden I see boys running after something. Hubby has a stick. I hear "get the sucker", "little bastard" stuff like that. Of course, I'm hiding my eyes because I hate mice. They continue to put some things in a "it's going to be thrown out pile" and other things go on the truck. S-I-L goes into the unit to get another box. He looks and lo and behold, 4 more mice. The other 2 go in there and I hear a battle. I hear "get him", "you can do it", "laughing". Then S-I-L comes running out of the unit, chasing the little bugger clear around my car, and steps on it. Much high five-ing insues. They finish loading the truck, and hubby says as they are getting the last of the stuff by the dead mouse, "don't step on that" and S-I-L, being the humourous sort that he is, says, "I already did". ha. We park the moving truck and hubby's van in front of my parents house, as this is the safest place to do so.
The next morning, hubby and I both were up by 4 AM. We got ready, stopped at the store, and headed to our new house. Well, let me preface this that the previous owners were supposed to be done by Saturday night. Did you see that word "supposed". We get to the house, and there is still some stuff in the house. Holy Bejoly. I was pissed. Oh, and did I mention that they also left a pickup truck in the garage. Much swearing insues from my mouth. (this is not my kichen but is how much junk was still in the house) We start moving the stuff that they had left in the house, into the garage.
The boys all get here, along with middle son, and they start bringing stuff out of the truck. Now, because of the fine party in the storage unit, all things in it will not be coming into the house until hubby has a chance to clean them. Yes, one lovely piece at a time. So they are sitting in our garage. And who decides to show up, FINALLY. The previous owners. They want to know what in the hell we are doing here.
Sidebar: we had already been forwarned by our realtor that the previous owners were pissed that we got the house for such a good price. this house has been a long process. It was a short sale, and if you know anything about the housing market, being in a short sale has nothing to do with how long it takes to get it. we put our offer in on August 10, 2009, and December 31, 2009 the bank finally accepted our offer.
OK, on with the story. At NOON, when the previous owners from hell decide to show up, they are bent. Hubby says, we were told by our realtor that you would be out of here by saturday night. Mr previous owner tries to tell us that we can't move in till after it funds. Hubby, who was a realtor for 11 years, says, there is a difference between, "CLOSING" which we put on our purchase contract and they accepted, and "RECORDING" AND "FUNDING". That is the process. Mrs bitch from hell, ooops, I mean, Mrs. Previous Owner, is pissed as hell because supposedly someone spilled something on her material. Well, lady, first of all, no we didn't and second of all, THEN GET YOUR DAMN STUFF OUT OF THE HOUSE BY SATURDAY NIGHT. breathing, breathing.
Sidebar: Good thing I'm not outside while she is complaining or you might have seen me on the news.
Mr. Previous Owner then tells hubby, "well then, I want a note from you saying that as of this date you are responsible for anything that goes wrong with the house". Hubby is like, ok. Comes in, writes it out. We are all standing around eating pizza and talking. One of the boys, I'm not sure which one, says, before you give him the note, lets all run outside with our hands in the air shouting FIRE. We all start laughing hysterically. Hubby goes to the garage door to go out to give him the note, and he is standing right at the door. Yes, you read that right, right at the door. Was he listening to us? How long was he standing there? He was probably just jealous that we were all in there laughing and he was outside with the bitch from hell. Oh, and hubby and the boys helped them load up their stuff into their truck, because they were too busy bitching and moaning to load. Yes we wanted them out of here.
Hope to do that again real soon. NOT
Thursday, April 15, 2010
So I was so excited, I informed my friend that I had got them. First of all she was concerned about the diabetes. Thanks. I'm ok. I've taken that all into account. Then I mentioned the name of the wine I got. To her horror, it was a cheap wannabe wine. She was totally disgusted with me. She wrote "It's some freaky berry flavored malt beverage and your champagne flutes are embarrassed, okay?" Oh my. This can't be. Take a look. This is my champagne flute with the cheapo berry flavored malt beverage in it. Does it look like it is embarrassed. From what I can tell it is in love with my wanna be wine. See that huge heart around it? I'm sure it is saying, I love this stuff! Don't I look so sexy? Please pour some more into my sleek body, would you please?
And my answer to that is, yes dear flute, yes I will.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Most women, when they have an itch, will scratch it in public if it is on their arm, or their leg, or their head. Why am I bringing this up. Because, I have the never ending itchy boob going. Oh yeah, not the side of the boob, or the top or the bottom, but right smack dab in the middle.
I'm sure all of you woman have had this problem at one time or another. What do you do if you are in a meeting and you get the urge to scratch? Well, you can't, it's inappropriate. So you do the upper arm rub across the boob to try to get rid of the itch. Don't deny it. You all know what I'm talking about. Didn't work, did it. It's still there. You try it again. Nope, not working. If you are in private, say in your office as I am, you decide, what the hell, I'm just going to reach right inside this bra and scratch the damn thing. You are in there, scratching away, and some quiet walking man walks into your office. Busted (haha, no pun intended). Now, most men, will get a thrill seeing a woman with her hand down her shirt. You on the other hand, are so embarrassed. But by darn, it itches.
Why do I bring this up in a post. Because, it's one of those itches that just won't go away. Maybe it's my age and going through menopause. But good heavens, if I was going to have the never ending itch, couldn't it be on my arm. Someplace I can scratch no matter where I am.
Must go now, have an itch to take care of. :)
Monday, April 12, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
I walked bravely into the place and showed them the picture I had found that I wanted. Here is what it turned out to be. A daisy flower vine. From the minute I got it, I loved it. I felt so free and alive.
They told me, once you get one, you'll get the craving for another. Were they ever right. I thought and thought. What could I do. Ta-da, I decided to get a little butterfly for each of my grandkids. That way, as I get more grandkids, it would give me the excuse to get another tattoo. Looked up pictures of butterflies and went back. Told them I wanted them around the flower vine.
I was again, overcome with extreme happiness, when I saw my grandkids. The only bad thing was, it was the dead of winter. I had to wear long pants. I couldn't show my legs. This was going to be the longest winter ever!!!!
Made it through Thanksgiving, Christmas and New years. Uh oh, I'm getting the urge, the urge to splurge. I need another tattoo. And why should I just celebrate my grandkids. I needed to get one to celebrate my own children. Who, by the way, loved that I got the first ones. They were proud of me, of me stepping out and being my own person. So I called them all, asked them what they thought of me getting a butterfly for them. They said it would be cool. I let them pick out the color they wanted to be, and the butterfly they wanted. Went back to my favorite place and gave them the pictures, told them which one was supposed to be which color and to do what they thought would look the best. My daughter picked out the red butterfly. My oldest son picked out blue, and my youngest the green. I love how the girl that did it put them as siblings united. And finally, the weather got nice enough that I could wear my capris and see them whenever I wanted.
Doesn't sound like too scary of a midlife crisis does it. The thing is, I was raised to not deface my body. Not to do anything that would upset the parents. But, I became independent at the age of 51. Even tho, to this day, I still haven't told my parents that I got them. I try not to wear anything around them that they will see them. I hate confrontation. I don't want to hear the disgust and shame in their voice. My siblings, another story. Most of them know about them and have seen them. And say they are supportive.
I feel bad that I didn't start doing things for myself way before 51. I hate that until then, I always did things that I perceived would not rock the boat. That would not upset my parents, other than marrying a person that wasn't of my faith. That was upsetting to them. And from the day I married him 31 years ago, I've tried to do everything else that wouldn't upset them. The one thing it did to me, was show me that I would never ever make my children feel like what they did was the end of the world. I know that we all make mistakes in life, and if we don't have a soft place to fall, we feel very alone. And yes, I'm still with the same man I married against my parents wishes and I love him to the ends of my soul.
I also have to give a big shout out to my daughter, who has shown me that it's ok to be who I am. Who loves me even tho we went through a rough time, but who will always be my best friend. And to my 2 sons who have always been there for me, who don't laugh too hard at me when I cry during a sad commercial, and laugh at me often.
So if getting a tattoo is the worst thing I could have done with my midlife crisis, then so be it.
Thus started my journey into adulthood, at the ripe old age of 51.
Friday, April 9, 2010
It would definitely have to be Kathy Bates. But don't worry, I have never broken anyones foot with a sledge hammer.
2. Did you ever go to summer camp?
One year I went to girls camp for a week. Have to say I hated it. Not much of a "loves natures" type of girl. My idea of "camping" is a motel room.
3. What sends you running and screaming in the other direction?
Mice. Hate, Hate, Hate them. They scare the crap out of me.
4. What is something you do that drives your spouse nuts?
My snoring. What can I say. I snore. Other than that, I don't do anything that bothers him. hehehehe
5. What is currently your favorite song?
This isn't my favorite song, but every time I hear it, I think of when I first heard it when I was younger. I'm not sure if this is the title, but I think it is Indiana Wants Me.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
I'm sure you already know that when you sneeze you close your eyes. This can be dangerous if you are in rush hour traffic. You have to make sure you are a fair amount of distance from the car in front of you when the sneeze finally happens. I dare you to try to keep those eyes open when you sneeze. Triple dog dare you!!
Then there is the dreaded, I really need to pee and a sneeze is coming on. Yes, had this one happen today while at work. Working, working, oh my, I really need to go. Working, working, still haven't gone. Yikes, here comes a sneeze. Uh oh, sneeze happens, and what else. Ladies? At least the ones of you that have had babies. Say it with me, oh dear, a dribble. Oh goodie, now I need to make it to the restroom without the floodgates opening. Darn sneeze.
Speaking of having babies. There is the sneeze that decides it wants to grace you with it's presence while you are standing. My last baby was 10 lbs 4 oz. And yes, I did have him 24 years ago, but if you are like me, you still feel like you might just lose your innards if you sneeze while standing. And I know you all do the cross the leg thing when sneezing and standing. You can't fool me. I've seen it.
Good thing those sneezes feel so damn good. Just sayin'
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
I dreamed I was at school. It was time for recess. The best part of the day. We were all playing outside. All of the sudden we hear screaming. Oh my goodness, what are we to do. We are 6. We start screaming. I decide that I'm the brave one. I start going towards the sounds, and all these kids are running out of the restroom. I see a teacher walk out of the restroom. What is wrong with her head? OH NO!!!!! Her head is as flat as Frankenstein's head. NNNNOOOOOOOO. She is screaming, "don't go into the restroom".
I'm brave. I go into the restroom and THERE HE IS!!!!! I start screaming and run out.
I was screaming when I woke up. And have never, ever forgotten.
I dreamed that I took my 3 kids to Colorado Springs to show them where I lived as a kid. Just me and my kids. No husbands, wives, or grandkids. We get there, but decide to stay in a small town outside of Colorado Springs. No name, just some fictitious town in my dream.
But wait, they are having a clown convention. All sizes of clowns were there. I especially remember a very, very tall clown. One so much taller than any of the tallest buildings there. This clown was walking down the street, shooting tennis balls out of a tennis ball shooter type gun. All different colors. Oh, I wanted a purple one so, so, so bad. He finally gets to my family and all that is coming out of his gun are the plain, ole, yellow ones.
I was a little upset, so I told my kids we better go find a place to stay for the night. I know, good luck, clown convention and all. Everywhere we went, sorry, no room in the inn. Finally, we see a warehouse type looking place. Maybe they will just let us sleep in there for the night.
Oh my, we get inside and it is the coolest thing we have ever seen. This big, gigantic warehouse is full of school buses. We go to the front desk, and ask if they have a room we could have for the night. Sure, they say, we have a few buses left.You read that right, our "room" was going to be in a school bus. But they were the most extravagant rooms you have ever seen. And they even had showers in them. I know, there are custom buses out there, but a school bus. I was in heaven. (and judging from the picture I found, apparently you can do about anything with a school bus).
We get all our stuff settled and decide to go out for a walk. We walk down the street. There is a huge, Vegas type hotel. It has an empty parking lot. Why, because they all wanted to stay at the School Bus Hotel. There is a rumbling noise, we look down the street and all these "gremlin" type creatures are stampeding towards us. We start running for our hotel, and, and, and!
I wake up. Clowns and school buses. Hmmmm
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Let's take this a little further. Plus size clothes. Just because I'm not a perfect size, I want cute clothes. I don't want the ugliest colors, the god-awful worst prints in the world, and no style what-so-ever!!!!!! I want the cute freaking clothes. And I don't want to have to pay an arm and a leg for them either. Get with the 00's. Just because you designers out there think that we could do something about being a plus size, we can. Or sometimes it's beyond our control. But not all of us want to look like a freaking circus clown. ERRRRRRRRRR
I'm ok with the size I am. I just want respect. If you don't like me because of my size, too bad, so sad for you. You are the loser. Because I'm very much well worth knowing. I just want to look HOT while you're knowing me.