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IMHO–ha!

22 Mar

So, I don’t know about you, but I loathe it when people whine or complain on facebook. Maybe it is because whining on facebook is usually something like: “I’m so tired of this weather” or “I’m so tired of people who judge” or “I’m so tired of being pregnant” or just plain “I’m so tired.”

Whining and complaining on a blog, however, is totally fine. Why? you ask. It has to do with the fact that a blog post is longer than a one line status update. So you can explain how you feel in a more exact way–what’s really bothering you.

Plus, blog whiners usually put in a little gimme like- “I know I’m just being a baby about this and I should really be grateful right now, but I just feel whiney….” So I can totally relate to that. They know they are being a baby and acknowlege it

And then, there are times when people have truly, deeply sad things happen and that is worthy of a blog post. A one-liner on facebook is too trivial to handle that kind of hurt.

What do you think? Does whining on facebook bother you?

hmmm. that sounded cranky. I’m really not cranky today. I am totaly wiped out! P90X plyometrics. Not for the faint of heart. It is now 1 1/2 hours since I finished working out and my face is finally close to normal color. It was a flaming beet red. Is that bad, in your opinion? I may not get much done today. Moving hurts. (whine whine whine–I know, when I can fit into my size 12 jeans I’ll be so glad I did this–so you don’t have to feel bad for me. I’m glad I’m doing it! Victory will be S-W-E-E-T.)

I have complained on facebook, much to my shame. And it wasn’t very satisfying, let me tell you. By the time I was over it, people were still commenting sympathetically and I felt so shallow. What happened was, I got a haircut on Valentine’s day. I showed the girl in the hair salon a picture of what I wanted and she talked alot about doing this or that and I said that sounds good and I wound up with the haircut she had instead.

This is what she did. After 4 weeks, I can almost make my hair look like how she styled it. Thank goodness I have a super awesome flat iron.

I felt okay about it until I got home. Then I had a complete meltdown and ate a bunch of chips and Nacho Cheese (and whined on facebook shamefully. In my defense, it was not a one-liner.) Then I ratted my hair like this.

Then I laughed at myself and I was fine. Besides, the haircut does look modern and like I know what is going on in the world–which was the ultimate goal. I was tired of people telling me I looked like a runaway from Little House on the Prairie or an escaped polygamist. Sheesh! How much more black eyeliner do I need to add?

The princesses all wanted to get in on the silly messy hair pictures.

One of the reasons I was originally upset about the haircut was that I had set my heart on bangs, and I couldn’t see any when she styled my hair. But I found them. So I felt better.

This is another look I have not been able to replicate again. Too bad. Nobody would tell me I looked like a polygamist if my hair was like this.

New Exercise Program

10 Mar

This is Cutie Pie. She dressed herself. Who says you can’t mix different stripes? Who needs pants when you have super awesome tights like these?

In other news, the Man of the House and I started a new exercise program. His goal: be in shape to max out his Army Physical Fitness Test in 8 weeks.

My Goal: lose 20 pounds so I can be healthy. I am at my heaviest weight ever, 175 lbs. I know you are all shocked because you picture me as skinny, gorgeous, and multi-talented. Hah! I have recently begun to suspect that the reason we have no new baby-pie’s entering our family could be related to my weight. Not Cool.

Well I am getting up at 5 (okay 5:30) AM every morning and exercising. I’m also almost dieting. Which means I try to make healthy choices but I still eat cookies sometimes.

The Exercise plan that we are following recommends taking before and after pictures so you can see how super you did while following their plan. Seems easy enough, right? Except why would I want to take a picture of myself right now? The whole point is that I don’t like how I look. But laying that aside with the self-assurance that it is a goodbye to the old GlowWorm picture, there is still the problem of the picture. See, all the examples in the book are Men in swim trunks and women in bikini’s/sports bra and shorts. Now while I do actually own a sports bra and shorts, I would never ever ever wear them without a t-shirt over it all. Nor would I ever leave my house in that ensemble for any reason, except perhaps if a random fire started in the middle of my exercise routine.

So why would I take a picture of me like that? I would never show it to ANYONE. I would never post it even here for you my loving fans. Even if I make a miraculous transformation and the P90X people invent a $5000 prize for the best set of before & after shots, I wouldn’t submit my picture.

A certain person really thought that I should bare my stomach for my before picture. Just the thought makes me feel slightly nauseous. No one needs a picture. I’m sure you all know what bread dough looks like after you let it rise once and then punch it in the middle. That’s what my stomach looks like. The following are the compromise before pictures that I took. A certain person is concerned that I won’t be able to see my progress without the bare tummy picture. I am quite certain that the fact that my jeans fit or possibly my skinny jeans or possibly new jeans (please bless it to be true!) will be all the proof I need.

The pictures don’t look as bad as in real life—somehow the fat rolls that are clearly visible when I wear that shirt sort of faded into the shadows. Not sure how that happened.

Cutie Pie felt no qualms about baring her belly.

True Confessions

9 Mar

Once upon a time, there was a mommy who agreed to carve a jack-o-lantern for her childrens for Halloween.

Carving the pumpkin went pretty smoothly, even the part where she made the childrens scoop out the slimy seeds.

But then the mother realized that she didn’t have any tea light size candles to put in the pumpkin’s head and light up his face.

After searching around, she found a half-burned up pillar candle (blueberry scented). The only problem was, as many pillar candles do, this one had burned down inside itself so there were high walls of wax shielding the flame from the pumpkin’s face, so no light could be seen.

So the mother decided to trim the walls off and expose the flame.

She did blow out the candle and pour off the hot melted bit.

She found a knife to trim with. *****Note: this candle was not made of that soft glowy see-through-ish kind of wax. It was a speckldy,hard, parafin-ish type of candle.

The mother began sawing on the candle. She did think, “hmm, I shouldn’t cut towards myself with this knife.” But the mother couldn’t figure out a cutting angle that wasn’t towards herself, so she just kept on and hoped for the best.

The tricksy knife slipped and stabbed the mother, right in the fleshy palm of her hand.

It was a very burning feeling. The mother took a quick peek at the wound. Luckily it wasn’t very deep into her hand–just about an 1/8 inch under the surface, but about 1/2 inch wide and 1/2 inch long. She washed it, packed it with Triple Antibiotic Ointment and covered it with a band-aide.

The childrens had to be satisfied with a non-light up jack-o-lantern. But the mother made a delish-i-ous treat to distract them. So they forgot the whole thing.

The pillar candle was vengefully thrown in the trash.

The Mother was too embarassed to tell her husband about the stabbing, because she had been using a knife in a foolish manner.

So she never told him.

She didn’t wash any dishes for about a week. Luckily, she had just washed them all recently, so the pile up didn’t seem much out of place, and the husband made no comments.

After about a four days, the wound healed shut and not even a scar remained to mark the spot.

The mother cannot even remember for sure which hand was stabbed.

The mother does not let dishes pile up like that on a regular basis any more, so must be careful not to stab herself again, lest someone notice.

The childrens are older now and might tattle on her too.

Some Like It Hot

4 Mar

Last week, the Man of the House and I went tango dancing. It was marvelous! We both loved it-even though we were beginners. We have tried merengue, salsa, waltz, and square dancing before. We had fun with those but TANGO is our dance. I intend to make sure we continue with it!!!!!

The tango music was familiar to me and I remembered a movie my sisters and I LOVED watching when we were girls.

Some Like it Hot with Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, and Jack Lemon.

So funny! (“How do they walk in these things? It’s like Jello on springs.”)

Jack Lemon’s character, Jerry/Daphne the Bass Fiddle player, is my favorite. Tony Curtis (Jo/Josephine the sax player) makes a prettier woman, but he isn’t as funny.

Probably my favorite quote from the whole movie is when Tony Curtis who has been masquerading as Josephine, changes into sailor clothes to pose as a millionaire–attempting to woo Marilyn Monroe. Jack Lemon is angry about it and gripes him out.

Jerry/Daphne : “And where did you get that phony accent? No-body talks like that!” You have to hear it though and I couldn’t find a YouTube of it. Because actually, Tony Curtis is doing Cary Grant’s voice and doing it perfectly.

So glamorous! (Marilyn Monroe & Tony Curtis making out fully clothed for hours. That’s how I formed my first ideas of what sex was. I haven’t decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But I do know it is preferable to all the movies today that just throw people naked in bed with no prelude and no prettiness.)

Meeting New Friends at the Park

29 Sep

I took my kids to the park this evening and there was another woman pushing her kids in the swings next to me. Her kids had dark hair and eyes, like mine do and she said,
Her: So you are a white girl married to a Hispanic, too?

Me: ….(pause while I wrap my head around the question. I have never thought of myself in this way before. Probably because I define myself by who my family is, not by my race and my husband was born in the US and doesn’t refer to himself as Hispanic.)

…umm, yeah. I guess, I mean his mom is Mexican, but he doesn’t even speak Spanish. I think it would be nice if he did. Then our kids would learn Spanish.
Her: My husband and I, we both speak Spanish and English, so do our kids. You can put your kids in the Spanish class at the elementary school and they will teach them.

Me: There is a Spanish class at the elementary?
Her: Yes, it is called ES….something..

Me: ESL (English as a Second Language. My husband taught that in the high school for mostly HMONG kids. It is for teaching English, not Spanish.)
Her: Did you see on the morning show today, they were talking about the wives of Hispanics?

Me: No, I didn’t.
Her: Well, they were complaining about how white women marry Hispanics and then when they get deported, the women go on government aid. They didn’t even mention those of us who don’t.

Me: Oh? (???)
Her: Like my husband has been deported 3 times and I never asked for government help once! His friends just helped me out until he was able to get back.

Me: … uuhhh, That’s good. (what!!!!!?????)
Her: Obama said he was going to give everyone work visas, and he hasn’t done nothing.

Me: You’re right, he hasn’t. (It must be awful to live in fear that your husband will die trying to get back across the border.)
Her: We are all going to Mexico to visit soon. I’m kind of nervous because of what happened there on the border, you know? Like did you see that movie “Blood_something___” where they lured white women over the border and then chop them up and put pieces of them on crosses?

Me: No, I missed that one (thank goodness)
Her: We just got a bunch of them movies. There is this one, “Sin Nombre” it will make you cry. The man gets shot crossing the border. He doesn’t make it.

*******
Then she ran off to catch her son because he was headed for the road. And I had to leave to get my son to Cub Scouts on time.

Here’s the thing. I googled, trying to find the news program she was talking about. I couldn’t find it. I have questions though.

1. Is “white” synonymous to “citizen” where you live?

2. Is “Hispanic” synonymous with “illegal” where you live?

3. Why should an American Citizen who is married to an illegal alien have less rights than any other American Citizen? What makes her worse than any other American Citizen who applies for government aid?

4. Can’t this guy get a green card? He is married to an American Citizen.

5. Why can’t we just give everyone a green card? Then no one would be illegal and we would know who is here and they wouldn’t have to live in fear or be exploited by the bad guys.

Winner, winner, Chicken Dinner

11 Jun


The winners of my give-away are

Katie- Day Solution

Vicki- Primitive Felt Nativity Pattern.

Hope you love them!!

Vicki, send me your email address so I can send you the PDF file.

Milking Cows

19 May


Milking cows is like being in prison.

Only in prison, you don’t have to milk cows.

a hahahahahahhah! I love it. Thanks, Sister F., I’ll be laughing for a long time.

*this photo stolen from wikipedia

I have a Helper

5 Mar

Peach Pie helps out.

And I have an excuse to make a new post and therefore move the last post down! Not that I have a problem with the post itself, but the title. Ick! What was I thinking. Everytime I see it, I feel like I was calling myself “big and shapeless” instead of the shirt. Glad to move that one down on the list a bit!

The Story of a Hat

18 Feb

A young cowboy hat came to visit one day.

Here is the handsome head he arrived on.

When it was time for the handsome head to go home, our cowboy wasn’t ready to go! He hid under the couch. What a naughty boy.

There was so much to do in Missouri.
Rope a LongHorn Tricycle.

Jump on the trampoline.

Watch Cardinals.

Play with the baby.

Flirt with some pink boots.

Unfortunately, there was no future in the relationship.

Finally, he was ready to go home.
Here he is in a Mary Kay box–which may have been beneath his dignity, but was the only one available that was big enough.

“Adios mi amigo.”
Say “Hello” to Texas for me.

Hurrah for skirts!

7 Aug

Oh, I wish I were so clever to have written this. I will have to settle for being cool enough to love it and link to it so I can read it many more times.

I see London, I see France

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