Purgatory

The time between Christmas and New Years is like a week long purgatory. You are done with one year and in a holding pattern waiting for the next one to start.

You are given a week to consider how you will make things better (should you choose to do so) for the coming year.

You can't really start any "New Life Changes" during that time because it would be like a false start. The universe referee would blow the whistle and you have to get back to the starting block and wait nice and proper with the rest of the humanity for January 1st to roll around.

All week I keep saying I will start eating properly and get back to the gym. But I keep rationalizing that I can't do anything until this stinky year is all finished and done with.

I barely stepped foot in the gym this year, as compared to the year before when I was there 5 days a week for at least an hour at a time. I could really get moving on the treadmill and was approaching being able to bench about 100 pounds. I guess I figured the year was just one big wash so I might as well go with the flow and add gaining 10 pounds to the list of other atrocities the year brought our way.

We also said goodbye to a dear family member who was with us for 9 years.
We will miss you Rosie and you will always be in our hearts.




But the new year dawns on the horizon with a hopeful pink glow that it will bring closure to some of the issues that colored 2008.

Our family is healthy and there is a lot of love. I guess as long as we have that, we will be doing just fine.

On that note, one can always use a little jib jab to lighten up a day....



Youtube link here

The Brownie Thing Clarified

After several people inquired, I realized I should probably clarify what a Brownie Thing is....

It is a soft piece of fabric that Katherine made with her Brownie troop to hang friendship tokens on.

If being a Brownie Girl Scout didn't encompass wearing a skirt and girlie vest, I think Jeffrey would join so he too could make cool projects like Brownie things.

Merry Christmas

A Very Merry Christmas from our house to yours

The Brownie Thing

I really am trying to write something tonight.
Anything at this point.
Life has been so completely sucky that I figure I must be able to find some humor in at some level.
Not writing because life sucks is a lousy excuse.
Not writing because my children are driving me nuts is on the other hand, an extremely acceptable excuse.
I therefore shall use it.

Enter grumpy whiny child....

"Mommy, she wont let me touch her Brownie thing."

"She wont let you do what to who?"

"Katherine wont let me touch her Brownie thing."

"What's a Brownie thing?"

"It's that long soft thing hanging on her closet that she made at Brownies. She wont let me touch it."

"I thought I told you to put on your pajamas?"

"I was going to but....."

"Since when does putting on your pajamas include touching each other's stuff?"

"But mom....".

"Go to your room and put on your pajamas or else I am going to go in there and help you."

(Funny how that always clears the room.)

The sound of not putting on pajamas floats through the house.

"Jeffrey, stop pushing me, I'm ta-rying to brush my teeth."

"I'm not pushing you, now get off my stool."

"But I have to look in the mirror to brush my teeth."

"No you don't... And that's my stool.... So get off!"

"EW EW EW you had your hands in your underwear and now you're touching me with them."

~~~~Giggling~~~

"STOP IT!!!!"

~~~~More Giggling~~~

"MOMMMMMEEEEEEEE JEFFREY IS PUTTING HIS HANDS IN HIS UNDERWEAR AND THEN TOUCHING ME."

"NO I'M NOT....... KATHERINE WONT GET OFF MY STOOL."

(Hang on sec, I'll be right back.....)

(No wonder I'm not getting anything done.)

(I am considering moving my desk into my closet.)

(Maybe my neighbors closet.)

No warranty expressed or implied

As if life isn't stressful enough, the universe gives us teenagers
Anyone looking for a low mileage 19 year old with a bad attitude?
Comes with own high mileage transportation that I paid for.
To be fair, she has paid for 6 of the past 24 payments.
Thereby proving I have no idea what I am talking about when I say she hasn't paid her fair share.
She after all has been doing the best she can.
I clearly have no idea how hard life can be.
I am immature and my expectations are far too high.

What the hell is wrong with me???

Drippy Sappy Love Poetry

I spent a good portion of my youth writing drippy sappy love poetry.

Because I felt it came from the depths of my soul, I figured it had to be good.

Now I figure not so much.

I have always loved to write. I started writing stories when I was was 5 and discovered my moms old typewriter.

I thought it was possibly the best invention I had ever seen.

No pencils, no pens, just press some keys and VOILA! my stories appeared. (I hadn't figured out yet that when you made a mistake you had to start the page all over again)

The first thing I wrote about was my cat, Princess. My mother had me convinced she was a purebred Persian and therefore one of the royals of the cat world. As a kid I didn't notice that she was missing the whole "oops my face rear ended a truck" look. In reality she was just a pretty white cat and it took me until my adulthood to come to terms with that.

But I digress....

In my story she became a white tiger who was very clumsy and her sister decided that she should be made queen to make her feel better about herself. Of course none of the other tigers thought it was good idea but they did it anyway and it all ended happy.

The down trodden triumphs!

I of course thought I was the first person to ever invent such a deep and complicated plot. But to put my maturity in context, I had to ask my mother how to spell "but" (not the kind you sit on I told her) so that should explain it.

I wrote and wrote and wrote my way throughout elementary school. More stories unfinished than not. I still have a rather large wicker basket in my closet full of all the hand written pages from that era.

I turned to poetry in my angst ridden youth. Cranking out page after page of heart felt love gibberish. Pouring out of my soul onto paper. Not all was bad but there were some that I cringe at when I gather the courage to reread the stuff.

Eventually I got married and had children (or the children had me, its a blurry line) and I stopped writing for the better part of 12 years.

One much needed divorce and the angst ridden love-sap poetry resurfaced. I do believe I outdid myself this time around.

Once again I got married and I no longer had time to see how many times I could use the words soul, passion and heaven together on the same piece of paper.

I finally came to realize that I really did miss writing but maybe should concentrate on real stories that go somewhere and have plots. I have heard some of the better works of fiction have these.

I am hoping one day to complete a sci-fi adventure thriller peppered with some hot steamy sex scenes. (OK maybe the correct way to put it would be one day I hope to START etc etc).

But just writing bits and pieces for this blog has gotten me started on creating things that don't require the enter key every 3 or 4 words. I am enjoying myself and I guess that is the whole point.


Since I don't like to make a post without a picture or two, I figured I would subject all you to one of my poems... try to be kind.

DANG... is it too hard to read?? There is nothing I hate more than when people write stuff and then stick it onto a wild background, rendering the text unreadable.

I was trying to be fancy and I think I only succeeded in making a mess.

Sushi Porn

I have at least 100 other things I need to be doing today, but circumstances require I sit at my computer and get none of it done.

I am trying to not eat out of self-made boredom, but as I click around I keep finding food porn everywhere.

The last webpage I came across was full of Sushi.

Real, Japanese made, luscious, delectable sushi.

It got me wanting the real thing.

Sushi comes in all shapes, sizes and prices and for the sushi snob I live with, a good sushi dinner surpasses the gross national product of some emerging nations.

You can find less expensive options, but that would include eating rolls and dining at places with names like "Wok 'n Roll", "The Sushi Bar & Grill" or "Sushi, factory direct to you".

I know that the first rule of thumb is to find a restaurant with real Japanese sushi chefs. And having a tattoo of a rising sun with Japanese lettering on your forearm does not count.

Once an authentic dining experience has been found, I want to avoid the wrath of the man with a foot long Ginsu knife. Thus I have tried to learn all I can about Japanese sushi eating etiquette.

I will never leave my chopsticks standing up in my rice, as if they are incense waiting to be lit. I will never hand anyone food, pull a bowl towards me, point at what I want, make gestures or stab my food with said chopsticks.

I shall never make wasabi soup out of my soy sauce.

I will not soak my sushi rice in soy sauce, leaving clumps of it in my bowl and drippings of it trailed along the table, up my shirt and on the corners of my mouth with the excess.

I will not order in broken Japanese, but instead will either leave the ordering to the one who actually can speak Japanese (previously mentioned sushi snob) or go ahead and ask for it in my first language. I want to actually get what I am trying to order. I am not ready to try my luck on blowfish.

I also will not order non-sushi items to be delivered to me at the sushi bar because "I do not like anything raw". If this is the case I had better sit my rear end at a table and order my chicken teriyaki with California roll out of earshot of said man with sharp implements.

When bringing my children with me I will not allow them to play "shoot the soy bean through the drinking straw and see if I can get it up my brothers nose on the first try" game. Because this will then inevitably be followed with "I can tie my noodles into a lasso and loop it around my sisters ears" game. Neither of which can end well. Not that I would know from experience or anything.

So my entry today started out about wanting food and evolved into a lesson on food etiquette. Sorry about that.

I guess the only way to make up for it would be to post some really good sushi porn...

 

Sailboat

A poem I wrote when I was in my teens.

Color

Corruption!

OK, so I haven't posted about anything these last few days.

I was going to post pictures of Jeffrey's 8th birthday BUT my SD card somehow got corrupted and when my computer (all knowing, all seeing) asked if I would like to repair the damage I answered Yes.

Now I answered NO the first time it asked me and it let me continue on to view all my lovely pictures of the sweet little face blowing out all his candles, opening his gifts... you know typical kid birthday stuff that parents live for.

But I digress...so I answered Yes the next time I slid my card into the computer slot and lo and behold BAM!!!

"The damage has been repaired." Followed by " The card in the slot is not formatted.. would you like to format now???"

Well OK I say... and click YES followed by the words of doom:

"If you format this card all information on the card will be lost"

So I am now in possession of a card that I cannot view, nor can I use because my computer will not recognize it unless I press the "destroy all" button.

I do however have a get out of jail free card.

Last January on one of our trips to Disney World, Alex thought he would check out all the pictures we took by viewing them in the camera's view screen. Somehow as he was scrolling through the 40 or so pictures we had already taken, he conveniently erased each and every single one of them.

After a brief bout of hysterics and after we got home I bought one of those recovery programs and it did its job and found every lost picture. When things are gone in electronic land, things are not really gone. Believe me, I know this for a fact because I watch NCIS and they are always recovering data that some bad guy thinks he has cleverly erased. Who needs to go to college when you can learn all you need to know on these realistic and completely factual shows!

So I am now in pursuit of my recovery program CD which has conveniently gone missing, probably in desk drawer someplace. All I need now is a program that can help me find THAT and I will be all set.

So because I know its boring to read posts without pictures, I will leave you with this:

Sometimes ya gotta let your hair down and have a good time!