I'm Back!

I spent Christmas with my in-laws in California. It was a fabulous time but I am so glad to be home again.

For Christmas Z and M, my BFF's girls,



















got Rock Band for PS3. I was a little disappointed that it was not Dance Dance Revolution (which I will immediately stop and add three shiny quarters to if I come across it in any of my travels) however, after 5 minutes of playing it, I fell in love.

This game comes with a drum set, guitar and mike. You can hook up a second guitar for four-player. Basically you are in a band and you tour the world playing hit songs from the 70's to now, anything from punk to heavy metal. A lot of the music is grunge from the 90's like Nirvana and Weezer, which is what I grew up on. You gain roadies. You get a manager. You get money. You pretty much get everything you would if you were a real rock band.

Now to give you a little background, my Dad owned a video arcade for the first 18 years of my life. So I became very diverse and good in my video game knowledge at a very young age. At the age of 9, I was top ranked player on Street Fighter (alyougon!) and pinball. Nobody could beat me. It was definitely a money maker for my Dad because people would pile tons of money into his games to try to beat the owner's kid. Let me tell you, I had the best boy/girl birthday parties. All the boys wanted to come to my birthday party...until they found out I was better at video games than they were...

I kind of got burned out of video games by the age of 16. You'd think I'd be a video game junkie but I really hardly ever play. I like Tetris and Myst but I'll play maybe once a year....unless it's Dance Dance Revolution :)

I stayed up until midnight, playing Rock Band with Scooterboy for 5 1/2 hours. He had to be up the next morning by 4:30, I had to be up by 6:00 for work. There's just something about a crowd screaming your name and cheering for you. This game is awesome. This game will consume my life. I have achieved every little girls' dream. I. am. a ROCK STAR! Last night we played for 7 hours straight. My voice was gone by the end of the night. I rocked out the drums so hard that this morning when I woke up my arms were sore. I played the guitar until my fingers bled...okay, I'm exaggerating...but seriously...

Of course the kids have had maybe an hour of playing time....we wouldn't want them to fill their brains with nonsense.

Merry Christmas!

I thought I'd extend an early Merry Christmas to you all. I would like to share with you a wonderful article that just truely hit home with me. Blesssings and enjoy!

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a church, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this happen?" (regarding Katrina) Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.

And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.
Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

My Best Regards. Honestly and respectfully,
Ben Stein

Let me tell you all about my weekend:

I am a crafter. So for our staff Christmas party I made a set of coasters that went over really well. The girls at work loved them so much that I go three orders the next day. I was so excited to go home and start on them, but I had to make a stop at the local Joann's to pick up some more wood blocks and boxes. I needed a total of 12 blocks for the coasters and 3 boxes to house them.

I rushed in to Joann's forgetting that when I got the first set I had taken all but one of the blocks. The one block was still there but there was only one box. So then I ran to Michael's thinking that they'd have some because they usually cary more wood crafts than Joann's. Michael's didn't have any either.


Directly across the streat from Michael's is my least favorite store in the whole-wide world...Walmart. I don't like this store for many reasons, mostly because they treat their employees really bad (statistically they have the most percentage of employees on state assistance, more than any other company in the U.S. because instead of giving their employees full time work, raises, or promotions, they advise them to get on state assistance) but secondly it's because it is the National Where-to-go-to-beat-your-kid Capitol of the World. It never fails me to go into Walmart and see a parent disciplining their child and/or yelling at their spouse.

At this point I was kind of tired of running around to store after store so I decided I'd take a quick trip to the place I have nick-named Devil-Mart, thinking that they might have something along the lines of what I needed. I found several, but not enough coasters.

Still on the hunt to find the coasters which I was once excited about, now cursing about, I knew my Mom would be coming up to visit and that I would have to take her home. Because I had my best luck at Devil-Mart, I knew that on my way to take my mom home there would be two more Devil-Marts, one Michael's and at least one Joann's. Worst case scenerio I would have to go to all stores searching for the coasters/boxes, but I was certain I would complete my list at the first stop.

First stop: Devil-mart. No luck

Second stop: Devil-mart. Some luck

Third stop: Michaels. Mission accomplished but then I realised I forgot to pick up something at Joann's I had been planning on doing for another Christmas present, so the day was not over.

Fourth stop, no food since 7 a.m. (and it was a not-so-filling scone at that), going on 6 hours of sleep, now being 4:30 p.m., very shaky and pissy: Joann's. I find what I need, get to the counter to check out, ask the cashier if there were any extra 50% off coupons left over from the day, when she says, "No but you can go get the Sunday paper if you'd like because there's a coupon in there valid for today."I replied with, "No that's okay." She persisted, "Are you sure? I'm sure we won't run out of the item (yeah right, with my luck?) if you would like to go grab a paper?" Finally after several no thank you's I replied, "I've been to three Walmart's, Joann's three times, and two different Michael's, I'm hungry because I haven't eaten since 7 a.m., I'm tired because I woke up at 5:00 a.m., I have been driving all over through 4 different counties to try to find these silly blocks of wood for these silly coasters that I was once excited about making and saving $6.00 really, truely, isn't worth it to me right now but thank you for asking."

We were just laughing histerically.

I'm So Pretty

I knew going into National Blog Month that I would, out of the three of us, inevitably loose the challenge of posting every single day for a month. I have no excuses except for the fact that I lost all motivation, inspiration and creativity the last week of November. I was in the lead for quite some time however slowly but surely I fell behind and couldn't catch up.

Luckily the day I had to pay up my deeds of frolicking in the street while singing "I'm so pretty, oh so pretty..." it snowed. It was the first snow fall of the year. So I was happy to do whatever anyone asked me to as long as I was outside... in the snow.

Thus, you have me singing and frolicking to the song from West Side Story, "I'm so pretty, oh so pretty, I'm so pretty and witty and gay:"


Oh yeah, AJ made me wear shorts and her cheerleading t-shirt from 1997. Luckily I was allowed to be in my Fargo Hat and Ugs while participating in this solo-event.

Z's blog

I have asked my trusty 5-year-old friend, Z, to share her thoughts on blog world.  (Just doing my civic duty of raising proper bloggers ;)  So, with great honor, I present to you, Z:

My cavity

Today I had a cav-a-dee.  It hurted.  It was the worst day of my life.  I want my teeth to work.  I want them to feel better.  They won is has a cavity.  My cavity is might go into might get worser. I want my teeth to feel better.  [AJ interrupts and says, "Who wants cookies?"  Z replies, "I do!!!"]  I want to brush my teeth better.  I'm going to brush my teeth better in circles.  It will brush my teeth better and get all the germs.  All the time I will brush my teeth and I will do it when my mom says to.  I will do what my mom will do when she says to right away.    

I hope my teeth will feel better.  The End.  

Gross Gross Gross!

My boss just came down stairs and said he was eating a muffin and started chewing on something hard. He pulled it out and it was a broken off crown. His first thought was that it was someone else's crown that broke off and got baked in the muffin but then he realized it was his own. He even pulled it out of his pocket to show me.

GROSS!

Okay

I am way behind in the amazing blog race for the month of November. I have a bet going with AJ and MMT. There's nothing for the winner, but whoever blogs the least this month will have to frolic down the street while singing the song from West Side Story, "I'm so pretty...oh so pretty..." Not fun.

So to keep me blogging and not bore you guys, send me some questions or topics to write about and I will.

Until tomorrow my blog world friends!

Bowling

To celebrate M's 9th birthday we took a little trip to one of the local bowling alleys. Now I am not a fan of bowling but I didn't want to be a party pooper so I went along with the gang. I laced on those ugly looking bowling shoes and found the properly weighted ball. With ball in hand and stance ready, I took my first turn down the lane. Gutter ball. Second turn, gutter ball. I thought perhaps I should try another ball so I grabbed another ball. Gutter ball. I kept this up, eventually knocking down one or two pins along the way, trying every technique I could (including what I like to call the stop drop and roll technique). My final score on the first game was somewhere in the 60's which was a much better improvement that the 14 I've bowled in the past.

Bummed, I continued. I was doing a little better and then my fingers started to give out from the weight of the ball. I went down to a 9lb ball and tried my luck. I got a spare. I kept the momentum going. To my surprise I eventually won the game and got into the 100's. I don't think I've ever bowled past the 80's in my life. It was pretty exciting, but I still would rather play Dance Dance Revolution or Air Hockey instead.

My Day

Today was great because I not only got to spend a whole lot of money on Christmas decorations for my office, but I didn't have to really work AND I got to do it while being paid.

On my outings, as I was trying to find a parking spot at our local Target (say it with a French accent, it sounds fancier), I spotted a lady putting away her newly purchased items in the trunk of her vehicle so I politely turned on my blinker patiently waiting for her to finish. I waited for a while. She obviously saw me, it was pretty obvious I was waiting for her spot. As she shut her trunk I realized, "Hm, this lady is not going to leave this parking spot." I irritatingly turned off my blinker and started to move forward. As I passed the lady, she looked at me and snottily smiled. As if she couldn't have waved me on to let me know she wasn't going to be leaving and instead just unloading the junk she just purchased in the Big Box Store.

Not to let that ruin my Christmas cheer, I found another parking spot...very very very far away from the entrance. Definitely NOT princess parking. I continued on with my shopping extraveganza.

On my way home from my day of fun, I stopped in to get my anti-depressant Rx filled. I waited, again, patiently in line to put my order in. As I stepped up to the counter the lady asked me a few questions and then asked me when I would like to pick up my prescription. I said, "Now would be fine (knowing that I usually have to wait about 10-15 minutes minimum for it normally)." She replied, "Well I can't fill it now, so when would you like it?" I replied in almost irritation, "Two minutes." She replied in a very superior tone, "Well there's about ten people in front of you." Blank stare. Now irritated, I replied to her blank stare with a more definite blank stare. She finally said it would be about 25 minutes.

Note to people who refill prescriptions all day...don't mess with someone when they are refilling an anti-depressants, it's not very funny.

But all-in-all I had a great day.

Christmas too soon?

Since the wind storms arrived this week and all of the fall leaves have been blown away, I suddenly have the Christmas bug. So I started playing Christmas music at work. None of the other girls like the fact that I'm playing Christmas music a week before Thanksgiving. Am I crazy for listening to Jingle Bell Rock and Winter Wonderland before Thanksgiving? I don't believe so. K said you can't jump the season to be thankful to the season of greed. Is that really what Christmas has turned into? The season of greed? 'Tis the season to be greedy falalalalalalala.

Really, today I heard on the radio that Santas' can no longer say "HoHoHo" they must now say "HaHaHa" because "HoHoHo" is a derogatory term used towards women. Seriously? You have got to be kidding me.

Christmas is the season for happy HoHoHo's and Merry Christmases.

Did you hear that Target last year banned, like other big boxed stores, their employees from saying "Merry Christmas" to their customers? Not only that but they no longer allow the Salvation Army Jinglers to stand outside their doors because they don't want to be one-sided towards any religion. BUT they will sell CHRISTMAS items in their stores INCLUDING manger scenes and Angels. Hmmm.

When did Christmas become so controversial? But I refuse to let anyone ruin my Christmas cheer AND I WILL SAY MERRY CHRISTMAS to ANYONE I pass on the street. I'm just spreading the freaking cheer. So HO HO HO and MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Miracles

Yesterday as I was driving home from visiting and a full day of shopping with my mom, I got a call from my husband, "M, I just wanted to let you know that K and T are okay but they were in a head-on collision with a drunk driver who wasn't wearing his seatbelt and died. They are in the ER right now if you want to go see them."

As I walked through the ER doors, I didn't pay attention to anyone. Even though my friends were alive and came away with only scrapes, bumps and bruises, I was in shock. Shocked that I almost lost two very close friends and shocked for them that the other driver was killed.

I held my composure as I walked through the doors to T's room where people who loved her stood. She had just finished getting stiched up from the massive cut she received on her finger from the plate she was holding when the collision occured which shattered in her hands. I saw her shirt sleeves cut all the way up her arms with blood stains seaping through showing me exactly where she had been damaged.

Still in shock, all I could think to do was hug her. Not knowing what I could touch without hurting her, I gently stroked her hair and hugged her head, thanking God that she was still here.


I was taken down the hall to another room where K sat on the phone telling her step-mom what had happened. Just the sight of her made me tear up a little. When she hung up the phone she had a smile on her face which confirmed to me that she was okay and, in fact, more okay than I as I could not get a smile out. As she tearfully told me what had happened I watched as she moved her hand gestures ever so slowly, subtly displaying the pain that she was in. I sat next to her, not wanting to let go in amazement that she was in somewhat good spirits.


We walked back down the hall to T's room where the ER nurse finished wrapping her freshly stiched finger. By this time I had enough confirmation for myself that they were okay. As the girls were discharged, we took a slow walk out to the main enterance while C pulled her car around to take the girls home. M.A. and I helped the girls into the car. K couldn't lift her own leg up in the car, so I gently lifted it in and wrapped the seatbelt around her chest, buckling it safely, like a mom buckling in her baby snuggled into its protective car seat.


I held my composure while shutting the door and watched them drive off but as I walked back to my car, I lost it. All emotions of sadness for the man who lost his life, joy that God protected my two friends, and pride that while the girls waited for the emergency vehicles to cut them out of their mangled car they prayed together the entire time, were rolling in one fell swoop. I cried in my car for about 5 minutes, praying the only two words that I could muster: "Thank you."

This morning I woke up with a pit in my stomach still but I am so thankful that God has given this life to us. To waste it is a shame. This has taught me to really cherish those I love. And even though I am angry at the thought of someone ever drinking and driving, I feel a loss for the man I didn't know. I pray that whatever pain caused him to drink has passed and he is at peace now.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow I get to spend half of the day with my two favorite kids. I get to get up at 6:30 a.m. and be a child for 4 or 5 hours (one of my favorite activities). I like days where I get to just play and be silly and children are the most accepting of that child-like immaturity that sits within me. Think about it, could you go up to an adult and just tickle the snot out of them? Nah. BUT with a 5 year old, I get to tickle her until she hick-ups. And, her little brother, I get to play baby-on-a-cob where I nibble him up all the way from he toes to right behind his ears (that's the sweet spot). I can honestly say, nobody that I know would allow me to play baby-on-the-cob with them without looking at me like I'm retarded or something.

However, there is a certain age at which those fun games suddenly become immature to any child. This will become a very sad day for me. But until then I will have my kicks and giggles being just as silly as they are for as long as they will allow me.

My Favorite Boy

I love this kid. This is my BFF's son who is 10 months old. My how time flies. It was just yesterday that I was in the hospital holding what was to become the joy of my life.

He tends to eat my face. I think he started about two months ago. It's quite funny. I've tried gobbling him up since the day he was born and then, one day, he figured out how to riciprocate. With his baby growled, drooly face he'll grab my hair and give me opened mouthed, slobbering kisses. Sometimes he'll miss my mouth and eat my nose. Not very good for when it's running, but it's hilarious.

Discovery Channel

Was featuring Wild Asses, Squatters and Peckers tonight. Does anyone else find that funny? Watch as the Wild Ass chases after the burrowing Squatters only to be startled by the enormous Pecker. Hahahaha.

It's Happened...

Blogger's block. I knew it would come but I was hoping not so soon. Okay, the truth is that it's Thursday and my week hasn't been particularly great because I've been fighting a nasty cold among other schtuff. But I don't want to bore you with my yuck-o week, so I will leave you with some inspirations of someone else:

Zero

Zero,
such a shy performer,
at first hiding behind the no's "n",
you step out onto the clear, open page;

0,

inside your tight boundaries lies amazing space,
the mouth of a bottomless well dropping down into
the dark waters of unknown significance,
where absence is not naught and a mere
nothing adds more to the already full.

Cipher of silence, swollen round with fresh beginnings,
of curtains about to open, the choir's first breath... . . .

Origin of origins which comes forever before
the note which can never be played.

~Cliff Crego

To Man of Many Thoughts

Quit stealing my and Becoming Refined's blog ideas! If you do it again, you will be automatically disqualified....either that or I will withhold something very valuable ;) Love you Oats!

Whale Watching

We have a client who saw a whale watching sign down at the marina. So she sits there...by the sign...to watch the whales. The sign is there as an advertisement to go on a whale watching tour...on a boat..in the water....to watch some whales...on the boat...in the water. She said to us, "You know, I go down there all the time but I have yet to see any whales!"

You know, somtimes it's better that I don't know these things. How can I keep a straight face the next time she comes in? I'll see that image of this lady sitting by a whale watching sign with some binoculars looking for whales of the pier. It is really just better that I don't know the depth of peoples' craziness sometimes.

Quote of the night:

"I'm just waiting for fat to come back in style."
~Your's truly, WMT

POW! RED!

I died my hair the other night...that's right, it's officially dead. And it's red. Dead red. I wasn't going for the dramatic look. The last time I dyed it, I did it strawberry blond with red highlights, lowlights, whatever they're called...and it looked great. This time I thought I'd go for more red, less blond, so I dyed my entire head red. I'll be putting the highlights in it later on in the week, but for now every time I see my reflection I think...”POW! RED!” It's quite the shocker. It will fade though right? Watch, this will be the one box of red that actually doesn't fade. I'm not saying I don't like it, it's just very noticeable, which I'm not used to, and very dramatic. Hey, it's better than dirty sink water blond!

To Forgive

It is easy to ask for God's forgiveness and accept that He has forgiven, but what is the hardest part, is not accepting God's forgiveness, rather accepting that we, ourselves, are forgiven. Forgiving ourself is the hardest thing to do.

As I was studying about forgiveness today, I realized it's not trusting that God has forgiven me or that I am worth being forgiven, it's me that hasn't forgiven myself completely. C.S. Lewis wrote, "We are offered forgiveness on no other terms. To refuse it is to refuse God's mercy for ourselves. There is no hint of exceptions and God means what he says."

Thank you, Lord, for your constant love and forgiveness. That even on the cross, while suffering, you were able to put away your selfishness, your pain, and sacrifice your life for ours. So that we can know your true love, forgiveness and kindness and so that we can know that you relate to our suffering because you have suffered the most.

Football Junkie

I walked into my apartment after an hour of shopping to find my husband, lounging on the couch with two remote controls in his hands, intently watching football. We are avid fans of the Seahawks and Colts and today the two teams were playing at the same time. So hubby decided he would take a splitter to our cable and move our little TV used in the office into the living room set atop one of our end tables. He had both the Colts game and the Seahawks game going at the same time and when there was a commercial on one TV he'd mute it and watch the game on the other TV. When that game got boring or went to commercial, he'd switch it back. It really got confusing when one station would switch games to see highlights of other games not being televised.

I think it was the closest thing I have experienced to developing a twitch. However, if I could do that with my design channels, I would be in Heaven. Honey! We're keeping both TV's in the living room.

The New Family Pet

Z, my BFF's 5-year-old kindergartner, found a new pet. On the table sits a red plastic bag with some kind of an acrylic box, very small box, sitting on top and in it is a ladybug who keeps crawling up the sides of the box, frantically flapping its wings trying so desperately to get out. She did a great job by trying to make the ladybug feel at home. Inside the box sits a red rock of some sort in case the ladybug decides it would like to do a little rock climbing. But rather the ladybug enjoys pushing the rock with its frantically flapping wings because it's probably thinking there will be a hole under the red rock that it can climb out of and fly back home. There's a foam sticker in the shape of a jack-o-lantern which I'm assuming is her door welcoming decoration. Z's attempts at making the ladybug feel welcome and at home are impressive, however, I have a feeling that this is how the killer bee were engineered. Some kid in desperate need for a new family pet attempted to make a cute little bumble bee feel at home in its new entrapment in which the said kid put in extraordinary efforts to make a cute home for the creature, when in all reality it pisses the poor insect off enough to want to kill all things that resemble the gigantic thing that stood above the acrylic box pointing and staring and making weird noises at it while it flailed its little wings screaming, "GET ME OUT!"

Unfortunately for the ladybug, it's Z's intent to wait until Tuesday to set the ladybug free because she wants to show her big sister the new family pet. But the ladybug will probably die before-hand resulting in sadness for the poor kid. Fortunately for us, I have a feeling that if Z was to let the ladybug free before dying we would soon see a new caption in the Sunday paper stating, "When Ladybugs Attack."

Kibbles and Bits

This is yet another interesting, take-a-second-glance-while-driving story. Out of my peripheral vision to the right of me, while driving near a BBQ joint, I see a man...or woman...dressed in a pink pig mascot type costume. In front of the pig are a couple walking, rather holding back their dog who was intensely barking and jumping at the pig. If dogs could talk, I imagine this one would have been saying something along the lines of "bacon bacon bacon bacon BACON! I smell BACON!"

Visions of Becoming a Lawyer

We often have some pretty interesting folks come to our office wanting consultation since my office is next to a homeless facility. However, yesterday we had a fella come in to talk to one of the attorneys to see what it would take to become a Lawyer rather than wanting a consultation for an injury.

He started his visit very politely by ringing the doorbell (it's very clear when you come to the door that we are a place of business and, though it's polite to ring a doorbell, it is definately not necissary...why we still have a doorbell is beyond me). He then proceeded to ask to speak with a Lawyer because he has realized his "life's purpose..." which is to become a Lawyer...and wanted to know what steps he would need to take in order to fulfill his dream.

Well, the paralegals usually handle these sorts of things because, quite frankly, the attorneys simply don't have the time to. So one of our very experienced paralegals came down to greet the very polite fella. He explained to her his dream, including that he came to this conclusion because he has died three times. She was very warm with him and encouraging by letting him know he'd have to go to school and that it would be best to talk to one of the counselors with a local college and, to top it off, he'd have to take the Bar Exam, which is not very easy. When she explained in detail the intimidating steps to becoming an attorney, he started inquiring about what it would take to have her job instead...

Good Morning Blog World!

This month is national blog month (although I really doubt it's a national holiday...) so that means I have to blog about something every day. I don't know if I really have something important or blog worthy every day but I will do my best. To join this little club go to:
http://nablopomo.ning.com/profiles?xgk=612651d083
You'll have to copy your blogs into NaPloPoMo but that takes little time and effort.

Happy National Blog Month!

I just realized...

I get to sit on my butt all day to make money off of other people who sit on their butt all day...and I work, while sitting on my butt all day, to keep them sitting on their butt all day. Ah the joys of working as a worker's comp paralegal.

Treat or Trick...

I caught a cold yesterday, of all days. I can't be sick...it's Halloween for goodness sake! But alas, I am. So my day today is already crap-o, just because I feel like, well, crap-o.

I get into work this morning and there are yummytreats waiting for me like almond cookies in the shape of fingers, festive Halloween cupcakes and home-made scones (I brought in some home-made caramel apple cider again). With the first impressions of the day, I think it's going to go pretty well, considering.

Until...I go to use the bathroom. It overflows...all over the floor. Seriously, it was a mini-lake inside of the 4x4, not enough room to bend over, tiniest bathroom you'll ever be in. I clean up the mess. It wasn't so much a mess as it was just wet. Of course, after I clean it all up, the toilet decides, "Now I'd like to perform normal and allow all the water filled up inside of my bowl to correctly drain." Stupid toilet.

Anyway, not two minutes later I hear, "AH! Come quick! Hurry!" It had overflowed again on a co-worker. I'm trying to run all over the place to get a plunger only to find there is no plunger in any of our three bathrooms. There's nothing to do but watch as the toilet, once again, fails us and spits out all that is within it onto the floor.

Now if you can only imagine, half of my co-workers are in costume. Trying to clean up in a tiny space is hard enough, but add the difficulty of wearing a costume in the mix and you have one unbearably funny scenario.

Thanks, Halloween...I didn't really ask for the trick.

Vacuum The Building!

My BFF's two daughters are 8 (almost 9) and 5. Last night when we were all sitting down to eat some delicious dinner, the dog (a 3 year old black pug) had a bad case of gas. M, the oldest of the two girls, immediately got a whiff of his stickiness exclaimed, "Everyone! Evacuate the building!" Because Z, the 5 year old, looks up to her older sister, she promptly replied, "Everyone! Vacuum the Building!"

I was rolling.

Autumn

We had our first frost of the year yesterday. I woke up to crispness in the air which filled our bedroom while snuggled under the warmth of my down-feathered, micro swede slipcovered, flannel sheeted, nothing but snuggly comfiness of blanketed layers. I was in the perfect mushed position on my side, hesitant to get up and face the day, but yet excited for the sun had just started to peak through the curtains and even though I knew I had to go to work, I was eager to greet this beautiful fall day.

Why is it that no other change of season fills my spirit more than Autumn? I am a summer girl, I love the spring and my Dad always called me his "Little Snow Bunnie." But it's Autumn that gets me giddy. The sipping of warm pumpkin spice lattes and caramel apple ciders, pumpkin pie, crisp mornings, and the array of magnificent colors in the trees.

My husband and I carved pumpkins the other night. When I got done scraping the stringy pumpkin insides, I stuck my head in the freshly carved pumpkin and smelled its cool pumpkiny freshness. Do you remember that smell from when you were a kid? Maybe I'm the only one who likes sticking their head in a freshly carved pumpkin and sniffing it, but it's one of my favorite fall treats.

Fall is also my favorite time of the year to go on walks...especially at night. Even if it's raining outside, I put on an extra layer to tramps through the crunchy leaves lined along the sidewalk awaiting for my arrival. This, I'm sure, is God's way of making sure I get that extra needed exercise for the arrival of Thanksgiving.

Oh Fall...thank you for your arrival. I will enjoy your weeks to come in pursuit of winter.

My Husband

I know this would completely embarrass him but this is too funny to pass up (I love you, Oats).

Last night as we were crawling into bed I noticed how much his feet stunk. Now I know guys' feet aren't supposed to smell like roses, but these were pretty bad. His response to my foul face was a very nonchalant, "Oh, I guess I should wash them tomorrow." Other than my first thought of how disgusting I just found my husband to be after being married for 3+ years, I was wondering why he replied as though he doesn't wash his feet every day. Now my husband isn't one of those plumber crack kind of guys. He doesn't usually stink and he's very handsome. So being curious I asked, "You don't wash your feet everyday?" and he laughed. When my husband thinks something is really funny he'll laugh in a sort of Bert and Ernie (from Sesame Street, you know: heeheeheeheehee) combined with the snake laugh (tststststs) kind of way...it's quite funny. But generally he only laughs like this at really disgusting stuff like farts and stinky things and only particularly when he's done such things...not quite so funny when I cause the event.

Anyway, this sparks a whole new conversation on yuckiness that in the 7 1/2 years I have known this man, I have never known what I am about to share with you. He told me that when he was in high school he never clipped his toe nails. YUCK! Now why I continue to ask questions to keep this conversation going rather than gag and move on, I don't know. So I ask him, "Did you have very long toe nails (invisioning the Ripplie's Believe It Or Not's curling toe nails that haven't been clipped in 20 years) or...what?" He replied, "No, they managed to usually fall off in my socks." Again, not knowing why I continued rather than GAG and leave it at that...I pursued the disgustingness..."SO you had toe nails swimming around in your socks all day long while you went about your day?!" He said he usually didn't feel them.

I just want to leave you with this:

Guys: Why are you so disgusting? And why do you always have to laugh at your most disgusting moments in life?
Girls: Why?

The Joys of Apartment Life

We live in a small apartment complex. Our complex manager is, oh around 85 years old. I think he's senile because it takes him at least 5 reminders and a year for him to do anything you've asked of him.

This morning I was ironing my clothes and getting ready for work. Note: I am usually buck naked from 7:00 until about 7:40 in the morning. At about 7:30 I heard a knock on the door. My husband had already left work for the day. Immediately I rush to my bedroom to put on a robe where I quickly realize I don't know where it's at because, well, I'm usually naked when I should be wearing a robe (my husband calls me his little exhibitionist...I'm not really). So I finally find the robe and answer the door. It was my 85 year old apartment manager. The first thought going through my head was, "WHAT IN THE HECK ARE YOU DOING KNOCKING ON MY DOOR AT 7:30 IN THE MORNING?!" He was there to let me know he was getting the locksmith to change the lock today. We've been asking for this to happen for about three months now, why couldn't he wait until later today day? It's not like it was imperative for him to knock on my door at 7:30 in the morning and ruin my naked morning frolicking.

Tell me if this isn't funny:

While driving to the post office today, I thought something looked strange, so it was worthy of a second look. It was a forklift forklifting a forklift...

My Ish

I have a friend who sparks me. There's just something about her that makes me feel child-like and rejuvenated. We can sit and color at the coffee table or have intense theological conversations. I feel I can be me around her.

I've been battling depression and have been on anti-depressants for the past couple of months. I was very hesitant at first to get any sort of "help" because I was raised to think it's all in my head. If I tell myself to be happy, I will, inevitably, be happy. Ha. I tried that for a year and it got me nowhere but bad yuckiness. But now I'm working my way through it and am finally to a point where life is good again. I've surrounded myself with people who I thought I wasn't good enough for but who inspired me. I've found that they gain just as much out of my company as I do theirs'.

For my birthday, my friend gave me this book, "Ish" by Peter H. Reynolds. It's written like a children's book, you know the kind you can read in two minutes because there's only 5 words per page. This is the most influential book I've read in years. It's about a boy who, like me, is an artist. One day he was sitting down at the kitchen table painting a vase of flowers and his brother comes along and basically tells him his painting sucks and that it looks nothing at all like a vase of flowers. The boy tries, through many more attempts, to make a painting that looks more perfect but finally gives up, crumpling every painting. His sister grabs the crumpled paintings off the floor and runs to her room where she's hung every one of his discarded paintings on her bedroom wall. She points to the boy's very first painting and says, "I like this one the best." He says, "but it doesn't look anything like a vase." She replies, "it looks vase-ish." The boy's creativity suddenly comes alive and he paints trees that look tree-ish, houses that look house-ish, fish that look fish-ish and so on.

I haven't painted in about a year. I've been so caught up in what other people think of me and my work that every time I had a creative idea, I would immediately tell myself that it wasn't good enough, it wasn't perfect. What I've forgotten is that I am good enough in God's eyes. My paintings might not be perfect, but they are ish, they're me-ish.

Spiders

I'm am deathly afraid of spiders. SO afraid, infact, that if I see one, I immediately get this pee-my-pants sort of feeling. I don't know where this fear actually came from and quite frankly...I think it's rediculous. They are more afraid of me than I am of them. Plus I have the power to squish them.

So one of my co-workers decided to play a little joke on me. Do you know those black plastic spiders you can pick up around Halloween time? Well, I just happen to have a black keyboard and a keyboard tray that pushes in under my desk. She put the black spider on top of my keyboard, pushed my keyboard under the desk and patiently waited in the break room (which is about 10 feet away from my office) while I discovered my little surprise.

I arrived at my desk, hurredly pulled my keyboard out to type something important on the computer, and went to position my fingers on top of they keyboard. That's when I just happened to look down....I jumped back, gasped, and the quickly realized before peeing my pants or screeming that the spider on top of my little black keys was fake.

She was laughing...I was rushing to the bathroom.

Another Random Work Conversation:

A: "We're going to have caramel apple cider tomorrow at work, would you like some?"
K: "What's that?"
A: "Well...it's cider...made from apples...and it has caramel sauce in it..."
K: "What kind of caramel sauce?"
A: blank stare...

A quote from my office for the day

"Don't tell me what to do with my panties"
-a 60-year-old redhead

Imagine this:

It never ceases to amaze me, Seattle that is, the unique diversity of this beautiful city where I've inhabited all of my 26 years of existence. This past weekend my husband and I and my favorite couple friends escaped to downtown Seattle for a day of fun. The drive to downtown was, as always, beautiful...although I swear my BFF's husband ripped a couple in the car...making for a quick flashback to stinky cheese day (I'll save stinky cheese day for another post).

So of course our first stop is Pike Place Market. A wonderful market full of stinky fish smells, unique foods, very inexpensive but beautiful bouquets of flowers, people, and any kind of art you can think of including a shop quite not so full of merchandise dedicated to "lefties" (because seriously, how many things can you put "I write left-handed" on?) to the performing arts. Which leads me to this guy...a balloon artist I'd like to name The Seattle Troll: