Run And Fight? Or Eat Cheese?

You may have heard the news by now.  We are on the verge of a Velveeta shortage.  There was some sort of "issue" in the moving of production from one plant to anther combined with the holiday demand and boom... less Velveeta.  Did someone tell the Velveeta boss we are only a few weeks away from the Super Bowl?  Could there be a worse time for a melty cheese(?) crisis?

Sadly, in our house, there is usually a small stockpile.  This week, however, there was none!  When I was at the store yesterday, I grabbed these babies before the stampede started.  Well... There was no stampede, and there was a good bit of Velveeta on the shelf.  Thankfully, there is now Velveeta in my pantry.

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to get fit enough to outrun and/or kill zombies in case of a zombie apocalypse.  Do you like my motivation?  Not to "look good," not for "good health"... But just to be able to fight or run from a zombie. 

I have a feeling that this whole Velveeta thing is going to undermine that resolution.  Who am I kidding?  The candy in the jar behind the cheese(?) was going to do that.  Thanks, Santa.

Maybe the zombies will wait until the cheese(?) crisis has passed.

7 Days In

Welcome to 2014.  I have to keep saying "2014" out loud to remind myself.  I've also written "2013" on several things.  I like to keep people guessing.

We're only one week into a new year, and so much has happened.  I may not be able to remember most of it due to frozen brain cells.  The "Polar Vortex" descended upon us, and it is too cold to think.  I love that name... "Polar Vortex."  How cold did it get at your house?  Our lowest low was 1 degree.  Mercy.
The news stations told us how to prepare for the extreme cold.  Drip the faucets, wrap the pipes, bring in the pets, and crank the cars.  No one told me to prepare for smoke detector Armageddon. 
Apparently, extreme cold can cause smoke detectors to malfunction.  It's true.
I spent half an afternoon trying to find a chirping smoke alarm in my house.  When I finally figured out which one needed a new battery, I discovered we had no 9-volt batteries.  I had to let it chirp until I could run out to the store and buy new ones, because smoke detectors which are hard-wired into the home security system will CONTINUE to chirp and/or SCREAM even without a battery.  It's like they're possessed.  There's nothing like standing on a ladder in your 12 degree garage while the smoke detector above you blares a high-pitched tune.  Because my hands were so cold, I dropped the battery and had to climb down, pick it up, and climb back up again.  Twice.
Today, another one started beeping. 
Then, when I went outside to warm up the car, I heard an unmistakable sound coming from the vacant house across the street.  Every smoke detector in the empty house was beeping.  It's like a nightmare I can't wake up from.  I can even hear the neighbor's alarms from our house.  Because my own weren't enough.  I may have to move. 

The "Polar Vortex" has also kept school from starting back on time.  It's been too cold for buses to crank and too cold for kids to be out.  Now, we have another day of vacation due to broken pipes and heating systems in the schools.

All this extra time at home is making the boy love me more.  I made him clean out his closet yesterday.  The start of a new year always makes me feel the need to purge our house of unnecessary stuff.  It's funny how 14 year-olds don't share that vision.

In honor of all the cleaning and purging, I turned over a bottle of soy sauce on the top shelf of the refrigerator today.  Soy sauce went everywhere.  I had to take everything out of the fridge - including all the shelves - wash it all off, and put it all back again.

If some soy sauce would spill on my front porch, maybe I would have an excuse to get the last of those Christmas lights and garland put away.

Hopefully, life will be back to normal in a few days.  We may see temperatures in the mid-fifties by the weekend, and it's safe to say I will see someone in shorts and a tank top.  I have mentioned this before, but folks dressing "out of season" is one of my biggest pet peeves.  I want to go up to them and ask, "What do you wear when it is 105?"
Then they can say to me, "Why do you still have Christmas decorations on your house?"

Happy New Year, friends!

Tweezers, Eyebrows, And I'm Back

I have developed a bad habit of not keeping up with blogging.  Maybe it's the busy pace of life.  Maybe I've been out saving the world.  Maybe I should stop lying.

To the 3 of you who read my random stories, please accept my lame apologies.
Now here's a tale I promise I didn't make up.

A few months ago,  I had my eyebrows threaded for the first time. Have you heard of threading?  The practice of threading apparently started thousands of years ago.  A piece of thin thread is used (by a person who knows what they're doing) to pluck your eyebrow hairs.  It's supposed to be less painful than waxing.
When left alone, my eyebrows look like 2 woolly caterpillars.  I've used tweezers on them for years, and I've had them waxed from time to time. 
I had heard of threading, and when a friend told me she did it, I thought I would give it a try.

The young girl who led me to a chair looked at my face and said,
"Do you know your eyebrows are two totally different shapes?"
Well. 
How have I been walking around?
My verdict on threading?  It hurt.  A lot.  My eyebrows looked good, but it took about 18 hours for the redness to calm down.  On my second visit, the technician took off so many hairs, I looked like a plucked chicken.
That afternoon, I asked the boy if my eyebrows looked bad.  He said,
"How fast do eyebrows grow?"
I was done with threading, and I decided to grow my eyebrows back out.  Well, first I had to actually grow them back.

Not long after the plucked chicken incident, I lost my favorite pair of tweezers.  No big deal, you say.  Buy new tweezers, you say. 
I did.  I bought about 5 sets of tweezers.  I tried and tried to find a pair like the ones I'd lost, but none of them were the same.
Then one day, while vacuuming out my car, I found my old tweezers.  Under the seat.
I have no idea how they got there.
Maybe they were trying to run away from home... Dying of embarrassment from my plucked chicken eyebrows.

I've always had a chap stick/lip gloss hoarding problem.  Now I have tweezers to go with them.

Youth Camp And The Zombie Apocalypse

The summer is more than halfway over, and I don't even have a tan to show for it.
I do have a few itchy streaks of poison ivy, and the boy has strep throat.  We know how to have fun.

We knew this summer would be a busy blur, but I don't think any of us realized just how fast it would go.
Our schedule has included (or will include):
1 week of Soccer Camp
6 days visiting the Florida grandparents
6 days visiting the South Carolina grandparents
1 week of VBS at church
1 week of Youth VBS at church
1 week of Youth Camp
13 episodes of The Walking Dead

Those last two items on my list are more closely linked than you can imagine.  The 3 of us recently started watching what is - quite possibly - the grossest and scariest TV show I have ever seen.  It's a very well-written show, because the more I watch it, the less it becomes about the zombies.
I start to wonder what I would do in a survival situation... which may or may not include dead people coming back to life.
I've contemplated packing a backpack with food... and a hatchet.
I've also decided that watching this show may be the only thing that ever motivates me to lose weight and exercise.  You know what happens to the slow people.

When I chaperoned the boy's Youth Group week at camp, I was able to put my zombie apocalypse skills to the test.  I functioned on very little sleep, lined up for my food, rationed out meds, screamed, and ran.  Not in that order.
We spent 3 days doing different types of mission work in Kentucky, and we had a great time.  We had 31 teenagers and 7 adults  in our group, and everyone made it home alive.

By the end of the week, I felt and looked more like the undead than a survivor.  There were dark bags under my eyes, I was moaning, and I think I was even dragging one leg.

A Penny For Your Texts

At the rate I am posting blog entries, I may have a big whopping 12 by December.
It's not for lack of material... Life is full of great stories, but getting them to the page is another task altogether.
If I stopped long enough to record my thoughts, I might be able to think more clearly.  Get some of that craziness out of my head, you know?

Speaking of craziness, have you ever scrolled back through your "received" and "sent" text messages? 
It's scary just how quickly those messages pile up.  The content of my messages is even scarier.

Last week, I was sitting and waiting in the car line at the boy's school.  Instead of catching up on my Bible reading (I'm behind) or catching up on my Bible study (I'm behind), I scrolled through some old texts.
Here's a small sampling of what my friends and I had been chatting about:

1.  Cat food is like crack to my dog.

2.  Caramel cheese popcorn is like crack to me.  (How do we all know so much about illegal drugs?)

3.  The DMV is a pleasant place in our town.  (This may or may not be an exaggeration.)

4.  Skin tight leopard print pants are not acceptable church attire.

5.  Has the "no Saturday mail" thing started yet?

6.  There are 2 houses in our neighborhood with Christmas wreaths still on the doors.

7.  Baby Jesus went to school.  (This is a post all on it's own.)

8.  Someone stole a plastic baby from a baby shower centerpiece.  (This is directly related to #7.)

9.  I need to justify my Target run.

10.  I'm stuck in the bathroom... I will text you my order.

11.  I tried to cut off the end of my left thumb.  Again.  (True story.  I cut the same thumb I whacked the end off of years ago.)

I was going to list an even 10, but I couldn't leave out the thumb text.  The doctor reattached the end of my thumb the last time I removed it.  This time, I manned up and glued it back together.  I have no idea why I hate my left thumb.

Thankfully, no left thumb is necessary to type out the "Plastic Baby Jesus Goes To School" post I'm working on.
In the meantime, I will be cleaning out my text messages.

My Word

Lately, I've noticed a trend.  At the start of a new year, people are choosing a single word to live by... A word to inspire.  A word to motivate.  A "word of the year."
Some of the words I've seen are:
"BREATHE"    "HOPE"    "HEALTHY"

I like the idea of choosing a word to guide me through the year, so I've been thinking and thinking.
All I can come up with is "OVERWHELMED."
Go ahead and laugh; I did.
I really tried to be more positive and creative.  But, "OVERWHELMED" keeps coming back to my mind.  So I decided to go with it, and here's why.

At the end of 2012, I was overwhelmed with sadness.  The tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut made evil glaringly real.  I was overwhelmed by the brokenness of humanity.

Between Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve, I was overwhelmed with traveling.  Military families don't usually live close to relatives, so when there's a holiday, you either celebrate alone or hit the road.  We logged a lot of miles in the car, and it gets old.  I was overwhelmed with gas station receipts, cricks in my neck, and a car-sick kid.

When January came, I was overwhelmed at the "things to do" list that hadn't been done.  I was drowning in laundry from the trips,  we had no groceries in the house, and there were piles of things to be put away.  I was overwhelmed with all I needed to accomplish.

I am still overwhelmed at the amount of junk I consumed between December 1 and January 1.  If I drink only water until May, my body will be able to live off the stored calories.  As the new year started and everyone jumped on the weight loss/fitness bandwagon, I was overwhelmed with my lack of motivation to join them. 
To celebrate, I ordered some Girl Scout cookies.

I am currently overwhelmed by the newest addition to our family.  We have a new puppy, and I have dark bags under my eyes.  She is only 9 weeks old, and she has a bladder the size of a pea.  (No pun intended.)  When I take her out in the freezing cold 38 times a night, I am overwhelmed.  I am also reminded WHY I have only one child.  Newborn people and puppies are overwhelming.

So my word for 2013 is OVERWHELMED, but I have decided to turn it around.
Well.  I am going to TRY  to turn it around.  There's another side to "overwhelmed" I like better.

Instead of being overwhelmed by the brokenness of humanity, I want to be overwhelmed with the good I do see.  I want to be overwhelmed by God's grace. I am overwhelmed by His love for us.

Instead of being overwhelmed by all the traveling we will do (again) this year, I want to be overwhelmed by the blessing of family.  I will be overwhelmed with thankfulness that we all get along and want to spend time together. 

I want to be overwhelmed at the abilities I have and the opportunities I have to get things done.

I want be be overwhelmed enough at my good health to not loathe myself.  I want to be overwhelmed enough to get healthier.

I will be overwhelmed by gratitude when those cookies arrive.

I don't want "OVERWHELMED" to be a bad thing.

And, as soon as she's totally potty-trained and sleeping though the night, I will be overwhelmed with love for the new puppy.  In the meantime, I'll settle for being overwhelmed by her cuteness.

In A Bubble

I may have mentioned we are glued to the TV.  The Games of the XXX Olympiad (I love saying that) have sucked us in. 
We all sit on the sofa and scream and cheer for the runners and the swimmers and the gymnasts, even though we saw the headline on MSN 4 hours earlier that told us who won. 
We are easy to please.
Our dog got in on the Olympic action a few days ago, too.  She ran 6 laps through the dining room, kitchen, and living room.  She even hurdled the magazine rack.  I think she was hoping someone would get up and play with her, but then she was pooped out from her blast of energy. 

I have noticed, however, that life on the outside is rolling on.  While we eat Chex Mix and dream of swimming 200 meters without lifeguard assistance.

Things that have happened since the Olympics started:

1.  The price of gas tripled.  Again.  OK, I noticed this when it happened because I am "one of those people" who will drive to the other side of town to spend .19 less.  Yes, I know I spent $3.23 getting there, but it's a mind game with me.

2.  The start of school is less than 3 days away.  Boo and hiss.

3.  Our grass started growing again after 873 days of 100+ degree weather.  Now that grass needs to be cut.  Boo and hiss.

4.  It is still entirely too hot outside.  I prefer to not go out there.  Where is Fall?  I've resorted to looking at pumpkin crafts and soup recipes on Pinterest just to keep hope alive.

5.  The boy grew another 5 inches.  Actually, I noticed this one, too.  He passed me in height about a month ago.
His back-to-school physical confirmed it.  Even the doctor looked at his chart and said,
"Has he really grown that much in one year?"
If the people that measure him for a living are surprised, then what is this world coming to?

So on this hot Monday morning, we are watching more Olympics, and I am making a grocery list.
The living creatures in this house keep eating, and we keep running out of food.

Dan/Daddy left the empty dog food bag on the kitchen counter this morning.  I'm not sure if it was a hint.
He couldn't muster the strength to write "dog food" on the grocery list so he put the empty bag on the island. 
He's apparently weak from lack of nourishment, bless him.
He also doesn't know the dog will eat Chex Mix, too.

If I Lived Another's Life

Do you ever wonder what other people's lives are like? Not the celebrities or the rich and famous, but the regular folks.
I consider myself a regular folk, and some of the strangest things happen to me.
Some people say I'm just very observant. They say weird stuff happens to everyone else; I just notice it.
I have an eye for weirdness.
These are just some of my latest adventures:

1. I pulled into a parking space the other evening at the boy's karate school. The car beside me had some hair hanging in the backseat. Pieces and sections of hair... clipped to a pants hanger. After some checking around to my sources (my sis-in-law and brother) I was informed that this is how people who wear extensions keep them tidy. Hmmmm.
But why were they hanging in the car? Did the hair need to go for a drive?


2. The boy has a new hobby. He gives our cat piggyback rides. Last week, he came around the corner into the den with our cat on his back. He had her bottom on his shoulders, her back legs hanging around his neck, and he was holding her front paws like hands. I was laughing so hard I couldn't sit up. She was just sitting there... bug-eyed and riding along.
When he told me about how he struggled to get her up there, I laughed even harder.
The next morning, we were getting ready to head out the door, and the cat was meowing and meowing. I said, "What is that cat's problem?!?"
He said (dead serious), "She probably wants another piggyback ride."


3. Snoop Dog was at our Chick Fil-A. We tend to visit Chick Fil-A at least once a week... after soccer practice. The last time we were in there, so was Snoop Dog. Well, I'm sure it wasn't the real Snoop Dog, but it looked just like him. I texted my friend, J, to tell her and this was our text conversation:
J:   Take a picture.
Me:  There is no way I can possibly sneak a photo. He'll see me.
J:  LOL. I am at a Holy Week service.
Me:   Now I feel like a heathen. You are at a Holy Week service, and I am at Chick Fil-A with Snoop Dog.

So then I consulted with my other 2 sources (my sis-in-law and brother) to tell them about Snoop Dog.
Me:   I am at Chick Fil-A with Snoop Dog.
My Brother:   Fo Shizzle?
Me:   Word.

I will work on getting a picture of the piggyback riding cat, and the next time I see Snoop Dog eating at Chick Fil-A, I will ask for his autograph.

The Do Nothing Spring Break

So we are halfway into this beautiful thing called Spring Break.
Ahhhhhhhhh.

We chose not to go anywhere or do anything this week, and we couldn't be happier.
I finished a book.
The boy and Dan/Daddy did a little fishing.
We're headed to the movies (Hunger Games, yeah!) in just a little while.

I thought I'd take some pictures this week to document our "do nothing" Spring Break, but so far I only have one photo from Monday.
The boy and his dog.
I told myself to look at this sweet picture every time I want to curse at my misbehaving dog...



I have no photos of me reading a book... That's boring, and I think I was in my pj's.

I have no photos of the fishing expedition... The fish were too small, and I was at the mall.

Happy Wednesday, bloggity people. I'm off to the movies. Thank you, Lord, for Spring Break.

It Really Doesn't Take Much

I really am a simple gal. Our weekend was a blur, but full of little things that made me smile...


Spring soccer season started again. Yeah. This momma loves watching the boy play soccer.







On the way home from the game, we ran through Chick Fil-A for some lunch, and the lemonade was dyed green for St. Patrick's Day. It made me giddy. I took a picture to share with y'all, but the photo doesn't really speak to me the way the lemonade did. It actually looked kinda yucky. But, trust me... it wasn't.

I also took the boy to a local farm store. No, I am not a farmer. I am the daughter and the grand-daughter of farmers, however. So the farm store is a place I can appreciate. I had an ulterior motive for going.... I heard a rumor they had baby chickens.
The farm store did not disappoint.



Pictures with a cel phone can't do these babies justice.
A tub-o-chicks. Pure cheeping happiness.



Soccer, green lemonade, and baby chickens. I can't remember a weekend so nice.
Hope you all enjoy the last official day of Winter.
It feels like the middle of July to me.

Questions

There are some things on my mind.

1. How many fat free Fig Newtons can I consume before the calorie content completely overrules the whole "fat free" thing?

2. Why are Girl Scout cookies only sold one time a year? Those girls would never have to pay for a single stinkin' camp out again if they sold those cookies year-round. I could probably put a few of them through college with my purchases alone.

3. Why are 2 of my questions about cookies?

5. What should you make for a kid's school lunch if processed meats are SOOOO bad for you?

6. How do you get a puppy to stop barking at random nonsense but still let her know it's ok to bark at bad guys and boogie men?

7. Why is it 80 degrees on March 14th? I'm worried it will either be snowing in 2 weeks or 120 degrees by May.

8. Does anyone out there decorate for St. Patrick's Day? All the St. Patty's Day stuff on Pinterest is adorable; my motivation level is low, however.

That's it. I couldn't even come up with 10.
Happy Wednesday, folks.

Take 2 Of These And Call Me In The Morning

Taking random photos of my counter tops is not usually at the top of my "To Do" list. This made me laugh, so I had to share it.

We have a corner of the kitchen that "catches" stuff. You know what I mean... school papers, car keys, random mail, coupons, twist ties, and other things that have no home.
Or... "Things That No One Wants To Put In The Proper Place."



I have the cure for what ails ya: Tylenol, off-brand Advil, and/or Sprinkles.

Me, Ellen, and Kathie Lee

There are 2 things on my mind as I compose this post:
1. Y'all are not going to believe me.
2. I should not eat Zaxby's wings at 8:30 in the evening.

A few nights ago, I had what could possibly be the kookiest dream ever.
I had a dream that involved pink lemonade cake, Ellen DeGeneres, and Kathie Lee Gifford.
I promise I am not making this up.

In my dream, I was apparently friends with Ellen and Kathie Lee. Ellen owned a bakery, and I was trying to get in to buy some of her pink lemonade cake. I was frustrated because her bake shop was closed, and I was having a conversation with a group of people about this problem. Kathie Lee popped out (from somewhere?) and told me that Ellen's bakery had been closed the day before, too.

Then, I woke up.

I can tell you how and why my subconscious brain put the pink lemonade cake in my dream. I cannot tell you why I dreamed about Ellen and Kathie Lee. Or why I was, apparently, living among the rich and famous.

I have been obsessed with the pink lemonade cake ever since I saw it on Pinterest.

Obsessed.
Not obsessed enough to make it, however. My sis-in-law made one, and my mouth actually watered when she told me about it.
I keep saying I'm going to get the ingredients together to make it. I just haven't yet.

Maybe I'll call my buddy, Ellen, and order one from her bakery.
If she'd ever open up the darn shop.

Halfway Through January

How is everyone doing with those New Year's Resolutions?
I didn't make any, so I'm doing great. Thanks for asking.
At the risk of sounding like Granny...
Y'all, we just passed the halfway mark on the month of January. Time is a-flying.

Because it has been over a week since I blogged, there are a lot of things to tell you.

1. I finally went to the salon. I have needed to have my hair "done" for too long now. I told my cute hair girl that the hair police were going to arrest me. The other big hair event in my life? I decided I'm ready to grow my hair out again. For the first time in over 10 years, I want it longer. I also told my hair girl that if she hears of a crazy woman ripping somebody's arms off at the Sonic Drive-In, it's probably me. I asked her to bail me out of jail and cut my hair. Fighting with my hair makes me irritable. Maybe I need to rethink this "growing out" idea.

2. I watched a little Food Network recently, and I have some thoughts about Giada:
a. I like her cooking.
b. Her shirts show a lot of boobage.
c. There is no way in the world she eats what she cooks. Fried doughnuts is what I watched her make. Yeah, right, Ms. Skinny Pants... You are not fooling me.

3. Paula Deen was on the Today show this morning to talk about being diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. Hmmmm.
Now I am a fan of Ms. Deen, so I am rooting for her to stay well. But I am also hoping she continues to cook the same way she always has. Paula, listen to me... Keep on bringing the butter. Just don't eat it all.

4. We had my mom and dad here with us this past weekend. It is wonderful to see my almost 13 year-old loving on his grandparents. He has the best relationship with all 4 of them, and he's not "too cool" (YET) to show them how much he loves them. It makes my heart happy.

5. The Duggars and their 37 children are in my hometown. My high school friend posted on Facebook about them being in a local restaurant. She suggested that no one go there for lunch because the restaurant had no more food. Hot tea almost came out of my nose when I read that. I adore the Duggars, but that cracked me up! And I complain about my grocery budget.

6. I have ordered an obscene amount of Girl Scout cookies. I love how those cookies appear just as I get rid of all the Christmas junk food. Just in time to wreck my weight loss resolution. Oh wait, I didn't make that resolution. Bring me more Thin Mints, girls!

Well I know you are all feeling more informed and enlightened.
Haircolor, Food Network chefs, a giant family, grandparents, Facebook, and cookies. My range of topics is mind-blowing, and my life is terribly exciting.

I can't wait to tell you all about how my husband and I have been arguing over whether or not an egg is a meat.

Tiki Idols and Dave Ramsey

At the risk of exposing my old age, I am about to reference the Brady Bunch. Remember the episode where they go to Hawaii and the tiki idol necklace causes all those problems? If you do, then you know where I'm going with this.
And you have to live in a hole in the woods to not know who Dave Ramsey is. He is a smart guy with some wonderful financial advice. He and his minions also makes me feel like a complete failure on a weekly basis.
The connection between Mr. Ramsey and the Brady family? Hold on.

I think somebody stuffed a tiki idol in my luggage while we were on vacation, because the "luck" around here has not been good.

In the course of about 72 hours, I broke 3 can openers and the mixer.
Have you ever hacked into a can with a butter knife? Do you know it is almost impossible to make sugar cookies on Christmas Eve without a mixer? I honestly don't know how the Ingalls family made sugar cookies.

On the day after Christmas, I came home to Dan/Daddy telling me he'd broken a new Christmas platter.
Then he says,
"Oh and the computer died."

Joy.
Nothing is better than having to buy kitchen necessities and a computer within a few hours of spending entirely too much money on a vacation and Christmas.
With our New Year's goals of "spending less and saving more" fresh in our minds, we have started to replace things.
We determined the computer was truly dead and that no amount of geeks in a squad can help us. The fate of our old files and pictures is yet to be determined. I have an external hard drive, but everything wasn't on it... Lesson learned.
I did want a new laptop, but I didn't want it this way.

The mixer and the can opener were a little less expensive, but who wants to spend money on small appliances? The only thing I can think of that would be worse would be buying an iron. Have mercy.

Dave Ramsey would remind me of that $100,000 I am supposed to have in savings in these "emergency" situations. I would be tempted to throw my old mixer at him.

So... I am tearing my house apart looking for that dumb tiki idol. Whoever stashed it in my stuff wile I was away is in big trouble. By the way, whatever happened to that tiki idol in the TV show? Did the Brady Bunch get rid of it? Did they have to throw it in a volcano to destroy it?

If I find a volcano, I think I'll toss in one of our Dave Ramsey books.

Chalkboard Confessions IV

First and foremost... a big shout out Happy Birthday to my mom!!!
She is someone I am so very thankful for every day. Enjoy your birthday, Mom!

Now.
You've heard that old saying...
"When the cat's away, the mice will play."
In our house, when the cat's away, the mice take his turn at 30 Days of Thankful.



So far, we are thankful for:
Food (written by the consumer of groceries)
The Cross
Coffee (written by the consumer of coffee)
Salvation
The time change (written by the tired me)
A great son and wife (not written by the dad/husband)

Dan/Daddy is out of town and the boy decided to fill in for him on his turn.
Apparently, we are great.

Don't Call Me If The End Times Come

Did y'all ever know someone who canned things? Someone who spent hours and days making sure they were ready for the winter with jars and jars of vegetables and pickles and jams?
I have aunts and grandmas and grandma-in-laws (and even friends) who do.
I vividly remember the smell in my house growing up when my mom made homemade pickles.
All those jars and lids and hot water baths... not to mention all the picking and washing and cutting and chopping.

Well that is not me.
I soooo admire the art of storing food, but I am content to ride off to the Mart and spend money on Smuckers.
Don't get me wrong... I LOVE the homemade stuff. It tastes better, and it probably has way less sugar and chemicals.

When we came home from the orchard a few weekends ago, I had a LOAD of apples, so I got the bright idea to make apple butter in the crock pot.
My sis-in-law has done it a thousand times, and the recipes are all over the internet.

Well.
20 apples and 2 days later, I had myself 2 whole jars.



Don't be jealous.
There are calluses on my hand from all that peeling.
I am happy I did it, and it IS yummy.
But my word. The labor and the payoff did not equal out.

I'll be rationing this stuff out like it's liquid gold. If you come over to our house for breakfast, do not expect to get free reign on the apple butter jar.
And, if the apocalypse is coming, you may want to find another place to stay.

Chalkboard Confessions III

7 days later, I finally got a reply.

I'm not sure who "Me" is, but I have my suspicions. I don't watch all that crime TV for nothing.

Hey there mysterious "Me" person...
You sure are cute with your skinny purple self and your spiked up hair.
I love you, too.

Chalkboard Confessions II

Remember my chalkboard confession from a few weeks ago?
Something about a house on the beach and a raise?
I'm still waiting.

But it seems as if I've inspired someone.



"1 hundred dollars" is a lot to a 12 year-old. Well, "1 hundred dollars" is a lot to me, too.

Now that I know someone is actually paying attention in my house, I put this up...


It's been on there for 5 days already.
Stay tuned.

Black Cats, Doctor's Orders, Blood, and Costumes

In case you're wondering, I still haven't "re-done" the front porch, and the uncooperative pumpkin blew over in yesterday's wind.

So here's the latest information in our world:

1. Baby Kitty has a new home. Hallelujah. My sis-in-law's cousin (and her daughter) took her. We had formed quite the bond with her cute little self, so it was hard to see her go. And her name is officially "Foxy" now. How cute is that?

2. Dan/Daddy had a follow-up with the spine doc. Spine Doc is slowly allowing more and more activity, but he gave Dan/Daddy instructions yesterday that I am not too sure about. The doc said that one of the worst things Dan/Daddy can do at this point in his recovery is load or unload the dishwasher.
Really? Really? (I think I smell an over-paid rat here.)
Unloading the dishwasher, dear readers, is one of my least favorite things to do. It's also one of the (few) things Dan/Daddy does. (Go ahead and judge... the housework in this house is NOT equally divided. Now it will be even less so.)
I think there's some kind of "man conspiracy" going on.

3. When I am sitting in the car waiting to pick up the boy from school, I can hear the afternoon announcements on the intercom. Yesterday, this is what I heard:
"Could a custodian please come to the hall by the Music Room? We have a blood spill."
Mercy.
Middle School is a rough place. I know it could have been a nosebleed or a cut hand or any number of non-violent injuries. But, I am the mom of a 12 year-old boy... My mind just goes there.
What's High School gonna be like? Severed limbs?

4. I took the boy to look at Halloween costumes yesterday. For the first time in 10 years, he has no clue what he wants to be on October 31st. We thought walking around in the Halloween store would give him some ideas. Well. Let me just tell you. If you haven't been to a costume store in a while, get ready. It gave him more than ideas... it gave him an adult education. It gave me a headache.
When did Halloween turn into a Playboy Bunny fashion show?
It was one of those moments I pray and thank God for giving me a boy.
I will take fake teeth and scary masks any day over "Sexy Cinderella" and "Show Your Hiney Alice In Wonderland."

Can't we all just get back to the true meaning of the holiday?