Lost in the Shuffle

First of all, I want you all to know, that I love my mom and dad. This post has nothing to do with any hate towards them. I do not harbor hate. Just trying to understand.

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 :).

5 Question Friday 4.30.10

It's friday so I'm playing along with Five Question Friday. Here I go.

1. If you could, would you go back to high school?

No way in hell. I hated high school. The only dances I ever went to were the girls choice ones. Can you say, I wasn't in the right group. One day I was walking out of the lunch room backwards because I was talking to one of my friends. Ran smack dab into the varsity quarterback. He gave me one of those eat shit and die looks that only the most popular jerk will give you. I guess I wasn't his type. :)

2. If a genie appeared and granted you two wishes, what would they be? (And, no saying "more wishes".)

I would love to have a personal chef. Maybe only 2 times a week. I would want them to cook things that I have never made but see all the time on the cooking channels. My other wish would be to have enough money that I could help my kids have a better life.

3. What kids show do you secretly like?

Wizards of Waverly Place. My granddaughter loves this show. I have to admit, when she is watching it and has to leave, I will finish watching it to see what happens.

4. What is your beverage of choice?

Coke Zero and coffee with coconut cream creamer. Or a carmel machiatto or white chocolate mocha from Starbucks.

5. What is something that you would change about yourself (or are working to change in yourself)?

The thing I think I would change is being so trusting of people. I will always look for the good in a person until they do something that shows me they aren't. I think I need to be more sceptic of people. Maybe I wouldn't be hurt as much if I did it that way.

There you go. Now play along so I can see how you answered these same questions.

I Have To Be Honest

My daughter awarded the Honest Scrap Award to me today. And since I'm being honest, a couple of weeks ago, one of the bloggers that I follow awarded me an award, and I can't remember who it was. Or the name of the award. Could be that I'm old (yes), but whoever gave it to me, if you are reading this, don't be mad at me. I'm putting a shout out to you. You know who you are.


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.

Pregnant Dreams

Once upon a time, a long time ago, ok, not that long, but almost 29 years ago, I was pregnant with my first child. I remember being so excited to go to our prenatal classes. The one thing I remember the most was the teacher telling us, "when you are in your 9th month, and you are going grocery shopping, be sure the first thing you put in your basket is a jar of pickles. That way, if your water breaks, you can drop the pickles on the floor and no one will be the wiser". OMG, that cracked me up.

One night, I had this dream. I was at the grocery store. Walking around, with my huge belly. All of the sudden, my water broke. OH NO. I forgot to get the jar of pickles. I hurry over to the pickle aisle and grab a jar, run back to where the water broke and dropped the jar. But wait. What are these strange feelings I'm having. Oh, help me. I'm going into labor. Right in the grocery store. I'm not going to make it to the hospital. Oh dear, my son is coming (yup, I was sure I was having a boy because this baby was sooo rumbustious, it just had to be a future Hall-of-Famer). Push, push, out comes the boy. I'm thinking to myself. I need to weigh this kid, because the hospital is going to want to know. So what do I do, I head right on up to the checkout line, and the girl checker takes the baby from me, and puts him ever so gently on the fruit and vegetable scale. Yup, my firstborn child is being weighed like vegetables. And then I woke up.

At the 2 weeks after my due date, because remember, this was back in the olden days when they didn't induce you until you were, oh, 3 or 4 weeks late. And when they did induce you, they didn't give you an epidural until you were dilated to at least a 3. And when they induce you, you are in full blown hard labor. Sorry, got sidetracked remembering. One night, I woke up with that feeling of I need to pee. Rolled off the bed, and whammo, my water broke. (my dream, my dream, at least it wasn't in the store).

Headed to the hospital, and was in labor for so long that the nurse that was on duty when I got there, was just coming back on shift when I finally gave birth. Again, olden days, was wheeled to the "delivery room", made ready, given some shot, promptly threw up, and started the push, push and out SHE came. Yup. I said she. And she was soooo beautiful.

(Sorry about the pen mark on the picture)

So there you have it. All except the part when I was in the recovery room, my dear sweet hubby comes over to me, kisses me and said,

"That was fun, let's do it again"

If it hadn't have been an 18 hour labor and I was exhausted, I would have reached up and hit him.

But I still love that man-o-mine.

Post It Note Tuesday

I love it when I can join a post. Thanks Supah Mommy.

How Do I Love Thee?

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!!!!!

The Firestorm I Created

Well, I went and did it. I finally spoke my mind on Facebook yesterday and did I ever create a firestorm.

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.

I guess what I'm trying to say in this blog is, we need to stop the hate now. In my perfect world, everything is sunshine, and rainbows and unicorns. Love will abound. (I know, and then I woke up). People will say that I've taken this all too personal. That's your perogative. I will always stick up for my kids. With their flaws. Because WE ALL HAVE THEM. And some people don't understand their flaws and try to make them out to be somewhat of a bad person. Each and every one of us have something that brings us down. So just because something that brings me down, doesn't bring you down, don't think I'm taking it personal. I'm not. I hurt just like the rest of you. I just might not show it to the world.

Just remember, if you dish it out, you better be ready to take it.

Conversations with Mr. C

This is my grandson who I will call Mr. C

He is all things dinosaurs. He will be 6 in two weeks. This little guy has the most profound conversations with me and his bapa. (bapa being the name our grandkids call grandpa).

Mr. C is in afternoon kindergarten. My daughter and her family live in the apartment in our basement. Today bapa was giving mom a break from driving him to school because it's a 25 minute drive to and from the school, 4 times a day. They didn't want to pull the kids out of school when they moved in. They will go to the school by us next school year. The following is the conversation they had.

bapa, how many bullets would it take to kill a dinosaur?

hmmm probably 4 or 5.

would he die if you shot him in the body.

Probably Not.

Where would you have to shoot it if it didn't kill him if you shot it in the body?
probably to the head, most likely in the eye.

and in his wiener or bum? (where the heck did this question come from?)

How many bullets from a machine gun would it take to kill a Spinosaurus? A T-Rex?

It would only take one to kill a raptor, cuz their not very big, bapa.

Could an atom bomb kill a T-Rex?

Could an atom bomb kill a Spinosaurus?

Could an atom bomb kill a 100 T-Rexes?

Could an atom bomb kill Godzilla, cuz he's the biggest dinosaur.

Could an atom bomb kill everyone in the world? This question makes me sad. Just sayin.

I love Mr. C. I had this conversation with him one day.

Grammie, do you know what I want to be when I grow up?

Nope, what.

I want to be a scientist.

That doesn't surprise me, that would be cool.

yeah, cuz did you know they make 1000 dollars a week. Thats alot, huh grammie.

Yeah, that is alot. I think you would be a really good scientist.

And I want to have 2 jobs. I want to be a scientist and a race car driver.

Wow, a race car driver too. Why do you want to do 2 jobs?

Cuz I want to do both and make lots of money. Adults can have 2 jobs if they want grammie.

Mr. C. he loves money. His little eyes light up when he gets some. I hope he never loses his zest for knowledge.

Things that Make me Crazy

Yup, it's what you think it is. Good ole bird poop on my car. And that is only one spot that the damn things hit on the car. Four freaking other spots. One was even on the driver's side window, (how in the hell did it land on the side window) right where if you were looking to the left to check the lane next to you, it was right there. I freaked out every time, because it looked like a car was going to run into me.

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?

Ummmmmmm

Notice the open container of creamer and the grocery bag someone brought their lunch in.

Now notice the dry soup scatterings over spilled dry coffee.

Then there is the USED coffee cup on the counter. Lovely, isn't it.

And then, notice how close the garbage can is to said counters.

I work with oinkers. What can I say.

Ode to my Hubby

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.........

Mannland's Getting to Know YOU

Time for me to play along with Mannlands's Getting to Know you. Love it when I don't have to come up with the questions. And you thought you knew me. shame, shame.

1. Mens chests..hairy or hairless?

Definitely hairy. Love to run my fingers through my hubby's hairy chest. Ooh la la.

2. How often do you run red lights?

Not very often. Maybe once or twice a year. I'm always afraid there is going to be cop just hiding enough for me not to see them.

3. If you could raid any celebrity's closet..whose would you raid?

Well, again, it would probably have to be Kathy Bates because she is more my size. And I bet she has some nice stuff .

4. Would you rather have more followers/friends on Facebook, Twitter, or your Blog?

For sure my blog. I don't do twitter. I leave that for the younger generation.

5. What makes you feel sexy?

Well, considering the fact that I'm not a size 4, nothing makes me feel sexy. Unless it's when my hubby calls me cutie. Still gives me a little chill after 31 years.

6. I get excited when...........?

I can do something for the people I love.

7. Are you the "outdoorsy" type or more "indoorsy"?

Me and outdoors are not on good terms. So indoorsy for this girl. Give me a good book, coke zero on ice, and I'm happy.

8. Would you rather have your dream home or a million dollars?

A million dollars. Just moved into a home that I love. Could pay it off and then buy each of my kids a home.

So there you have it. Was it what you thought?

The Adventures of Moving

This actually happened 2 and a half months ago. I know my friends on Facebook have read this, but I just had to share it with all my blogger friends. Here it is.

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

Inanimate Objects

My friend informed me the other day that champagne flutes have feelings. I'm not sure I believe her. Let me explain. First of all I'm sure that you all read my blog about going to the liquor store. Well, I decided that I needed some cool glasses to drink it out of because, well, if not I would be drinking it out of a coffee mug. Didn't want to do that. So off to the store I went. I knew that I didn't want regular wine glasses. I have nothing against them. I just knew that I wanted champagne flutes. Why you ask. Because they are so elegant and sexy looking. I'm not the big huge drinker. Just once in a while. And I really can't drink a lot at one time due to my diabetes. Brings that glucose right on down.

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.

Can I Be Blunt?

Actually, I really dislike blunt people. You know the ones I'm talking about. You've worked with them. Are related to them. Are "friends" with them. I used to work with a girl that would always let me know the minute I walked in that I looked like shit. "wow, your hair looks bad today". Oh really, I know my f-ing hair looks bad today. You didn't need to bring it up. I already didn't want to come to work because of my hair, SO GET OFF MY CASE!!!

My daughter has a SIL that is blunt. I've been around her and would like the smack the crap out of her whenever she talks. Is this some kind of learned behavior? Do you feel so bad about yourself that you have to make others feel bad too. Or do you think you were put on this earth to let people know all the rotten things in life.

But the thing that really sent me over the edge on BLUNT PEOPLE is a "supposed" friend of my cousin. She is the mother of 4 children, ranging from 11 to 15 months. Her daughter just turned 3 the other day and so she threw a birthday party for her at her local park. Now, little kids and parks equals tired kids and moms at the end of the party. My cousin's daughter was getting tired. Her friends little boy was chasing her wanting her bag of candy. Her daughter turned around and hit this poor little boy in the face with her bag of candy. Being the good mother that she is, she ran over to her daughter, told her to apologize, put her in time out told his mother that she was sorry. Do you know what this "friend" did? Turned to her little boy, who is freaking 2, and said, "Reed you need to tell Amy that she is a bitch". Can you believe that? Telling a 2 year old to call another child a bitch. WTF!!! If it were me, there would have been a huge name calling, cat fight. And then I would wash my hands of her.

I think blunt people are in the category of abusive people. Maybe they have had a rough childhood. Maybe they don't know any better. But you know what. My childhood wasn't always a bed of roses either. But I never, ever intentionally say things that are meant to be blunt. And I'm sorry if I have offended you if you are blunt. But people need to realize that the person you are being blunt to could be having the most horrible rotten day already, and you just sent them over the edge. I've seen it happen to my daughter, and I've seen it happen to my cousin. The despair in their calls, the self worth that it affects.

This world needs to be a nicer place. So let it begin with you.

The Case of the Itchy Boob

Have you ever noticed the difference between men and women when they have an itch. A man, will scratch that itch, whenever, wherever it is, not caring if there are women, children and babies around to see. I work around men, if they have an itch "down yonder", they scratch it.

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. :)

Pet Peeve Monday

Welcome to Pet Peeve Monday. I'm usually not really excited about going back to work after a nice weekend. Of course, when there is a 5 car accident and you are sitting in a parking lot usually called I-15, you know it's going to be a really good day. So, without further ado. Here are my pet peeves of the day.

1. I get on the freeway and I'm minding my own business, and what happens. Mr. let me speed up really fast and then ride your bumper decides to be my best buddy. At this point, I'm really wishing I had a big speaker on the top of my car so I can spout obscenities at him. I'm also doing all in my power to keep my hands on my steering wheel, because they have a mind of their own, and are begging me to flip him off.

2. People that can't make a right hand turn without going clear into the oncoming traffic. Hello, I'm headed your way, quit talking to the dude sitting in the passenger seat, and KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!!!!

3. In keeping with the car peeves, people that don't pull up far enough in the parking space. Went to the bank today and Mr. Plumber Guy has left a good 5 feet of his butt sticking out into the parking lot. Sure wanted to tell him where he could take that pipe and put it.

4. People not listening to what you say when you answer the phone, or when you go back to ask them if they have been helped. This is a big sore spot with me. I hate it when I answer the phone, say the name of the company, and the person on the other end is talking or not listening. Find myself saying "hello", and then they say, is this "enter company name here". Well yes, dumb A, it is. Maybe if you had been listening when I answered you would have heard that. Breathing, breathing.

5. In keeping with the "phone" peeve. People that come into my office, get out their cell phone, and make a call. Do you want me to think you are cool. Not going to happen. I think you are rude to not have your personal call in a personal setting. I'm busy, leave me alone.

6. My last peeve of the day. People that leave a big mess in the lunch room. Turn everything into a garbage can, except the garbage can. Open sugar packets, cream packets, soup packets, hot chocolate packets and leave the empty ones sitting on the counter. I'm ready to put a sign up that says, "your mother doesn't work here, clean up after yourself". I don't get paid enough to clean up after your lazy self. Grow up, clean up.

Here's hoping that Tuesday is a better day.

The CRAZY Journey Into My Mid Life Crisis

Two and a half years ago I turned 50. I wasn't afraid to turn 50. I was happy. My kids threw me a surprise birthday party. And the biggest surprise was that they gave me a trip for 2 to San Francisco. Have I mentioned, I love my kids. After my 51st birthday, I got the huge yearning to get a tattoo. Oh yeah, 51 getting my very first tattoo. Goes back to the "I'm a grown woman now, I'm doing what I want, not what my parents want me to do, not what my husband wants me to do". So I grabbed my friend Lizzie (yes, Lizzie of now engaged to my son) and we went to the tattoo parlor that she had used before. Funny how a 20 year old girl could make me brave.

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.

5 Question Friday

1. Who would you want to play you in a movie of your life?
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.

FIELD TRIP

I made a stop to the liquor store today. First of all, I live in Utah. We have to go to a state run store to get it. And we have to go from 11 am to 7 pm, because the fine, outstanding, never do wrong legislature has decided to pass a law that those are the fine hours of business. Did I mention our fine, outstanding NEVER DO WRONG, legislature? Senate Majority Leader Sheldon Killpack, was arrested in January 2010 on a DUI. What? How can this be. Drinking in Utah? By him. No Way. (Sorry, got sidetracked)

Be that as it may, I have been in a liquor store, one time before. Yes, I'm 52. This was my second trip. Scary thought huh. I have led a sheltered life, but am now on my way to adulthood. (This will scare my family members, but hey, they might as well find out here, right). I headed over to the cheap wine section. My youngest son brought wine to our Easter dinner. I found it really tasty. I decided hey, I'm grown now, I can do what I want. I found the wine that he brought, thanks to his drawing about where in the store it would be, got 2 bottles, because you know, might as well, I'm there. I go stand in line. Young guy in front of me "forgot" his ID. Oh well, sales clerk says, "what year were you born", he spouts off 1974, she says, it better be, rings him up, and voila, off he goes. She scans my 2 cheap bottles of wine. And says, "I need to see your ID" What the? Do I look like I'm 21? My sons last words to me before I left work were, don't worry, you won't be carded. hahaha. Was he ever wrong. So, trying to get that "man, I feel stupid" feeling out of the way, I sad, "sure, thanks for asking, I must be a young looking 52 year old woman" Or, maybe she just thought, I bet this is only the 2nd time this woman has been in a liquor store. Yeah, that's what it was. Watch me squirm. It even had the sign warning me, HAVE YOUR ID READY. I thought about it, but didn't because I know I look older. Maybe I needed to have my capris on so she could have seen my tattoos. (whole other story). Maybe I should have had on a different shirt, showing my cleavage. Not the blue number with the 2 birds on it, that I threw on this morning.

I still can't decide if this is bothering me or funny. hmmm, maybe I should go have a glass of wine!

What's In A Sneeze

Sneezing. It's one of those facts of life. Problem is, there are good times to sneeze and bad times to sneeze. Let's discuss.

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'

It's All In How You Ask?

Have you ever answered the phones at the place that you work. It's never a dull moment. If you happen to work a place where there is a "sales counter", the way people ask for it totally cracks me up. I have come up with a few of my favorites, and what I truly would like to answer when they ask.

Is "Bob" on the desk?

No, he isn't. He is probably standing behind the counter.

Can I have "Bob" on the desk?

Well, that is kind of a personal question. But if he wants you to have him, by all means, go for it.

Can I have your parts?

Hell no, you can't have my parts. What parts are you trying to get at anyway?

Can I speak to your desk?

Hmmm, you can but honestly, I don't think it will talk back. I have to admit. One day, I was eating my lunch, and my son, who works at the same place I do, was eating lunch also. The phone rang, I got that exact question. I said, just a moment, put the guy on hold, and sat the receiver of my phone onto my desk. Said out loud, "have at it". My son looked at me like, what in the hell are you doing? I said, well he asked if he could talk to my desk!!!

There are days I just want to page the counter the way they are being asked for. And also, certain people that have different names and the way people butcher them, that would be quite hilarious to page them the way they were asked for. But I am afraid that the guys wouldn't answer the phones because they wouldn't know what or who I was talking about.

One more thing, I have 6 lines coming in to answer. If someone has made an outgoing call, say to your cell phone, please don't call back without seeing if they left a message. I can't tell you how many times I hear this. I just got a call from this number. Well, isn't that nice. I don't have any idea who it was that would have called you. There are 15 people that work here. Guess what? If it's important, the person will leave a message or heaven forbid, call you back. Shocker, I know.

An Oldie, But a Goodie

Did you have a nightmare as a kid, that you remember all these years later? I remember having a dream when I was in first grade. That was a long 46 years ago, but it is still as vivid today as it was when I was a kid.

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.

CLOWNS, Clowns, And MORE CLOWNS

Happy Easter. Another dream from about 6 months ago. You know they are a doosey if you still remember them vividly this long after.

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

Dear Victoria's Secret

I have a major complaint about bra's. Look at that cute little, emphasis on little, bra. It is so awesome. But wait, what about if you are a Plus Size woman as I am. First of all, you don't even offer "my size". You think in your crazy little world that all women are teeny tiny, size zero to two women. I have something to report to you. WE AREN'T!!!!! But just because I'm a larger woman, doesn't mean I don't want a cute, sexy bra. Oh, I can go to Lane Bryant. They don't offer the cute sexy bra's that I'm talking about. But I don't want to. I want to go to Victoria's Secret. I think that is what her secret is, you have to have the perfect body to get one of her bra's. And don't even think about looking online for one at Victoria's Secret either. Been there, done that.

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.