Zombies vs. Aliens

Last night Little Man and Bill were looking up movies to rent from Red Box. They debated between "Alien Apocalypse", "Zombie Apocalypse" and a few others.  Then a question arose of which would wipe us out first, aliens or zombies. So I said, "Duh. Everyone knows the zombie apocalypse will happen first." And here's my logic:

 There are tons of scientists conducting research on how to cure the diseases of the world. All we need is one who is evil has questionable morals and bam! Instant zombie virus. Let's not forget that a flesh eating bacteria already exists.

Anyway, once the zombie virus has infected everyone and we're all vulnerable and mindless the aliens will swoop down and attack us, thus creating the alien apocalypse.

However, if the aliens eat our brains they will become zombie aliens and if they can't defeat our mass zombie army and some escape without knowing that they are infected they could go out into space and create an Inter-galactic zombie alien apocalypse.

Yeah. I know. Crazy. And by crazy I'm talking about my brain and the unsettling thoughts that live there. I feel bad for whatever zombie eats it.

Oh and the boys finally decided against renting a movie and watched TV instead.

VS.

I don't control the weather, but I wish I did

It's been windy here for the past 3 days. Thursday to Friday it was scary windy. Not quite drop-a-house-on-you windy but still windy enough to push around patio furniture. I hate it. I'd rather have a good ol' thunderstorm. Claps of thunder and lightning bolts don't bother me. Watching to see if a tree will snap in half and come crashing down on the house...scary.

Every time it's windy here I feel responsible. Why? Because it was my idea to move out here and then my parents followed and my dad's best friend who we refer to as Uncle came soon after. So I feel like if the weather is less than stellar it's somehow my fault. I told Bill this and he said, "That's stupid. It's not like you can control the weather." I know, he's right. Although it would be cool.

I spoke with some of the resident lifers, those who have lived here all their lives. They said it never used to get so windy so often. I remember past vacations here and it was always warm and sunny which was a key selling point to us moving here. It's still warm and sunny 80% of the time. If only we could get rid of the stupid wind. Where is that dang Wind De-activator button?

Oh sleep, why hast thou forsaken me?

Sleep and I are sometimes like two ships passing in the night. I go to bed all ready to sleep and then, lay there totally wide awake. And yet a few short hours ago I was tired and could have gone to sleep right then but it was too early and would have messed up my already messed up sleep schedule even more.

I go to bed too late. I can't fall right asleep. Sometimes I can't stay asleep. I think I'm a partial insomniac. I'm like an insom because I do eventually fall asleep.

Full blown insomniacs hardly sleep at all. I wonder if they nap during the day? I can nap during the day without any problems. Maybe sleep thinks I'm cheating on it when I nap and that's why I'm having difficulty? I don't always nap, though. And I don't plan on it, it just happens. If you visit more often, sleep, I promise no more naps.

See you tonight.

Who's to say what's normal?

Yesterday for Mother's Day my guys took me out to dinner. Chris got the kid's menu with games and pictures to color, which just for the record is much more fun than the boring, plastic grown-up menus.

So we all placed our orders and looked to see what Little Man was busy drawing. There was lots of red and some blue. Then he explained his masterpiece.

Little Man: It's a murder scene and this is all blood. The guy got jumped by several ninjas and they cut his throat (mimics throat cutting) and his arms and legs and stabbed him (mimics stabbing and dying noises).

I looked at Bill and said, "It's scary that this is normal for us. I mean, most parents would be concerned." He replied, "Nah. He's fine." And then we started eating our food.

Reminds me of that scene in the Addam's Family movie where the teacher called  Morticia's attention to a drawing Wednesday did of an aunt who was burned for being a witch.

Sadly, I'm not able to post a picture of the drawing. It didn't fare so well during dinner.

A push to volunteer

For the last couple of years I've considered getting involved with some charity/organization and donating my time. I wasn't sure what or where but I knew the situation would present itself. And boy did it ever! God didn't just nudge me he pushed me into a specific direction when Christopher was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

I'm talking about JDRF-LV and how I am an now donating my time to a worthy cause.

In the beginning, Bill and I just attended the monthly meetings. We met new people and learned some information about the disease that we hadn't known before.

Then, two months ago, I decided to actively become a volunteer. Now I come to their office (which is very close to the house so yay!) about twice a week for 2-2 1/2 hours a day. I do everything from stuffing envelopes to helping with big charity events.

Sometimes I like the mindless stuff. Staple this flyer to that packet? Sure thing. They did have me use the paper cutter once, which might have been one time too many because of the way the postcardy things were cutting. In my defense, it was getting stuck on the downward cut and the postcardy things kept moving as I struggled. Not my fault!

They also had me measure some paintings for size to be displayed on a wall at our big, gala event. What the heck were they thinking? Me and numbers? Never a good combination. Not to mention it was art and so it was hard to tell how it would hang. I only hope I looked at some of them correctly, otherwise the length was measured as the width and vice versa. This is what happens when you let a non-artsy person use a tape measure.

Anyway, I like going to the office. The women are all very nice. And I like knowing that I am helping out in some way. I do what I can to combat this disease. I do it because it's the least I can do. I do it for Christopher.

However, the next time I'm looking for some guidance, I hope to get a more gentle prodding.

Not all teas are made equal

This past Friday we took Little Man to see the Avengers movie at one of the hotel/casinos nearby. While Bill and Chris were waiting on line to buy tickets I wandered over to Starbucks to buy a hot tea and something sweet to nosh on.

When the young barista guy asked to take my order I started out fine and then we somehow took a sharp left and ended up in Confusion Land. Here's what happened:

Barista guy: Can I take your order?
Me: Yes, I'd like a Tall ( their version of a small) tea.

So far, so good.

Barista guy: What kind of tea would you like?

And this is where the road gets bumpy. You see, I couldn't remember the name of the tea I prefer.

Me: What is your version of a plain black tea?

Barista guy: Well, we have Earl Grey, Chai,  Chamomile.
Me: No, none of those. What do you have that's like plain old Lipton?
Barista guy: Um, Earl Grey, Chai, Cham-.
Me: No, no.
Barista guy: I have no idea.
(Then he looks at Barista girl standing there)
Barista guy: Do you know which one?
Barista girl: I have no clue.
Me: Straining to look over the counter and read the box labels.

Then my eyes spot it. Awake!

Me: The Tazo Awake, that's the one.
Barista guy: Tazo Awake? Okay.
Me: And a piece of Cinnamon swirl pound cake.

Thankfully there was no one waiting behind me.

Now, I realize my lack of knowledge of Starbucks tea brands was part of the problem. But, shouldn't these purveyors of expensive coffees served in cookie-cutter boutique cafes with fancy-schmancy titles know their own products? 

Then again, maybe I expect too much.

In the future if I decide to buy a hot beverage I'll stick to a simple establishment like Dunkin Donuts, where coffee is just coffee and tea is just tea. With a little milk. And two sugars.                  

Don't call me, I'll call you

I'm not a fan of talking on the phone. Gabbing, gossiping, catching up on life, blah blah blah. I really don't enjoy it. Business calls are the worst but that's usually because I don't like dealing with crappy customer service and bureaucratic nonsense.

Thank God for social media or I'd never communicate with my friends or the outside world. People would think I'm a recluse and avoid my house for fear of disturbing "the un-communicative woman who lives there".

I'm not even sure where this dislike of phone calls came from. As a teen-age girl I was always on the phone with my girlfriends. So much that my dad got me my own private phone line so that "other people in the house could use the telephone".

These days I have to be in the mood to make a phone call. Almost like a doctor having to block out some time for an appointment. Once I'm on the phone, I'm fine. I can talk for a while. And I shamefully confess that sometimes I do other things while on the phone like, paint my toenails, straighten up my desk area or the ever popular doodling. Oh come on, I'm not the only one. Don't judge!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unsociable and I love my friends. I would just rather we email, text, message one another or tweet than talk on the phone.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable, or silly or unreasonably silly. But to me the phone is a necessary evil. That I try to avoid.

Diabetes is no laughing matter

I love to laugh and consider myself to have a pretty good sense of humor. I even laugh at things that are inappropriate. Show me a video of a dad getting hit in the groin by a ball his child kicked and I'm hysterical. And any joke that starts off with...A priest, a rabbi and a plumber are in a boat... is bound to be funny and have me in tears.

So I'm confused with myself as to why a joke about diabetes left me annoyed rather than rolling. Here's the joke: John has 32 candy bars. He eats 28. What does he have now? Diabetes. John has diabetes.

Um, no, he doesn't.

Maybe it's because this hits way too close to home for me since Little Man was diagnosed. Maybe because it also promotes ignorance and misconceptions. I mean, if you're going to be funny, at least have some truth to what you're saying. I get tired of having to explain that he got this disease by an unlucky roll of the dice and not because he ate too much chocolate. And yes, he can eat candy. Of course I moderate how much, just like I did back before he was diagnosed.

Eating candy or sugar based foods does NOT give you diabetes any more than standing next to an idiot makes you stupid. Although there is that whole concept of the company you keep but I'm speaking generally.

In all honesty, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have laughed at this diabetes joke even if Little Man didn't have the disease. Because it's just not funny.

Although this did rub me the wrong way I still laugh and joke around and with me there's always something funny going on. Maybe in time I'll find this and other diabetic funnies to be humorous.

And maybe not.

A hairy situation

I'm having a good hair day today. So naturally it's a windy day here. *sigh*

My hair is at that unruly stage where I need a haircut and have resolved to ponytail it a lot. However, yesterday after my shower, I put it into a french braid and then dried it. I left it in the braid all day, all night, even sleeping on it which was great because I didn't have to play tug of war with it throughout the night as I tossed and turned.

Anyway, I showered and blow dried it and then about an hour later undid the braid to reveal wavy hair. It looks pretty darn good. Like, take-me-out-and-let's-go-dancing good. But then by the time we went from house to car and car to club the wind would muck it up and I'd look like crap which would defeat the whole purpose. Because that's how it goes with me.

My hair will usually start to cooperate and look good just prior to going to the salon to get it cut. It's like my hair is saying, "Don't cut us. See how good we look? I promise to behave from now on and hold a beautiful style for you."

Until the next time when it goes flat and looks and acts like a hat on my head instead of hair. Time for a cut. A trim, really. Despite the weather.

It's my birthday and I'll celebrate if I want to

Am I the only one who likes birthdays? Their own birthday, I mean.

Monday was my birthday and although I ignore the numbers I still love my birthday and look forward to it like a little kid.

This year my family and I went to dinner downtown near Fremont Street, where we later walked around checking out the shops, characters and people-watching. Then we stopped in at the Pawn Stars, which has now become a tourist trap, and finished the night with a drive down the Strip.

The next night Bill took me out for the adult night on the town since we had little man with us on my actual birthday. We checked  out the Cosmopolitan since we had never been in there yet. Then we went across the street for drinks and bar food snacks at Cabo Wabos.

I love the Strip at dusk when the sun is going down and the neon is coming on. So pretty. It's times like this I feel a little less lonely and really love this city. Furthermore, our summer has begun, a little early, even for us. But I love the summer and warm weather so this was perfect.

What was the best way you ever spent your birthday?

Joints and pain

Last night Bill and I attended the monthly JDRF meeting. The topic was healthy living and how stress affects your life. The Life Coach speaker made a few points about how to reduce stress and how stress affects your body.

One of the things she mentions was that stress can cause aches and pains. Then she said something about pain in joints.

I looked at Bill and whispered: "Am I the only one who thought about marijuana when she said 'joints'?"
Bill: (Looking at me with amusement) Yes. Yes you are.

 Maybe I heard the words "pain" and "joints" and thought she was talking medicinally.Who knows.

The rest of the meeting was fine and informative. And I heard everything the way it was intended.

A Mormon, Four Wives and a Bowler

Sounds like the start of a joke, doesn't it?

It isn't. (Sorry to disappoint. I promise tacky & saucy jokes at a later date.) Anyway, we recently had a couple brushes with celebrities. Sort of. I'll explain.

During Little Man's Spring Break we took him to play mini golf at our local Putt Putt Place. It was a beautiful day so there were a lot of people playing. There was also a camera crew.  Maybe the news was doing a segment on the growing rise in popularity of mini golf. Could be. But there was no news van in the parking lot.

So we asked the girl behind the counter as we paid, "What's up with all the cameras?"  She said they were filming a reality TV show. "What, the Real Housewives of Las Vegas?" I asked as a joke. Although it wouldn't be funny if it were true because I wasn't asked to join. But I digress. (Oh, there is no RHoLV. Yet. In case you were wondering.) Countergirl said "No, they're filming 'Sister Wives'."

This is that show about that Mormon guy who's married to 4 women. Yeah, that one.

We settled into playing our game at a snail's pace because of the amount of people, and bad putting and the Mormon and his lot holding up things as camera crews filmed him, the wives and all their kids playing. I couldn't help but gawk at them. I mean, this guy is nothing to brag about. And what were they doing in MY town all the way from Utah, I wondered. I came to find out from the disgusted grandmother, who was one hole behind us with her grand kids, that he was chased out of Utah for 'bringing attention to Polygamy' and had to relocate here. Ugh.

Then a few days later Little Man got to meet (and bowl) with Professional Bowler, Chris Barnes and his wife, Lynda. Unless you're a pro bowler or follow the Pro Bowlers Circuit, these names mean nothing to you. My dad and brother are bowlers and follow the sport so I know this couple.

This time there were no camera crews, no gawking crowds and just the bowler and his one wife. (A little dig at the above). They were there for a charitable event called Strike Out! Diabetes on behalf of JDRF (Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation). Chris and Lynda have a son who is a Type 1 diabetic so they have a personal stake in this. Let me just say that they were the sweetest, most gracious people you could hope to meet. Chris B. took time to personally speak with my Christopher about his diabetes.

Here is Chris and Lynda Barnes with some of the kids that bowled at the event. Little Man is in front of Lynda.

(Note she has her hand on his shoulder. Yeah, apparently she was quite taken with my charming little man. Hey Lynda, he's not so sweet when you wake him up to go to school.)

One stop shopping

Talk about convenience. I guess you really can get anything at Wal-Mart because someone used the store's women's bathroom as a Meth Lab. Story here. Funny. And sad.

Happy Easter

Some Easter funny stuff in honor of the holiday.

Experiencing technical difficulties

I wish I could say this is an April Fool's joke, but sadly it isn't. I've been having computer problems for a while now and even though I applied a few "band-aids" to keep going, it finally became time to bring my notebook to the computer hospital.

My screen has been acting up and going blank, gray, green, showing lines and other funky things. The tech expert said it might be the screen itself that needs to be replaced (which will take time to re-order a new one, install, etc.) or it could be something as simple as the screen connecting to the motherboard is messed up. In either case he had to order the part that will test out both of these theories which should ship out Monday.

I pray it's just a bad connection because that's quicker (and cheaper) to fix. *fingers crossed*

Anyway, I feel so naked without a computer. I use it for just about everything. Now I have time on my hands. I feel both terribly bored and excitingly free.

I am currently on my dad's computer updating this blog so y'all don't think I've abandoned you and to check my email in case I get an invite from Sting to visit his home in England. Hey, a girl can dream.

I will post again soon, hopefully. In the meantime, have fun pulling pranks. Keep your fingers crossed for a painless computer fix.

Laugh and the world laughs with you. Hopefully.

I have a sense of humor. I love to joke around and play pranks. I love to laugh. Slapstick comedy is one of my favorites. If the Marx Brothers, Three Stooges, Laurel & Hardy or Abbott & Costello are on, I will definitely be rolling on the floor laughing hysterically with tears down my face. A snarky comment, good joke, silly cartoon. Yep, I love 'em!

I've always said we need more laughter in the world and less judging and anger. I think society has forgotten how to laugh at itself. People are so easily offended. Let's just lighten up a bit.

Kids know how to do it. They laugh at the silliest things: Peek-a-boo, blowing raspberries, funny faces. We could all take a cue from them.

My mom is known for her falls and stumbles. Some of the stories surrounding them are legendary and never get old. Of course, at the time we feel bad that she slipped and fell and hope she's alright and not injured. Unless you're me and practically bust a gut to keep from laughing out loud, while snickering under your breath until you can't take it anymore and break out into full-blown hysterics. Sorry, Mom. In my defense, I saw the ice patch and tried to warn you.

This past weekend I watched some Three Stooges with Little Man. And he loved them! He howled with laughter which made me so proud. (pounds chest saying My Boy!)

Naturally bathroom humor and fart jokes rate highly around here. Little Man and Bill are on the same wavelength where that's concerned. *shakes head* 

In any case, I think a little laughter goes a long way so long as no one is seriously hurt.

Allergies, you suck

Years ago I went to an allergist in NJ to find out what made me sneeze, cough and generally miserable. A scratch test revealed I was allergic to a crapload of stuff. Figures. The list included: ragweed, cats, tree pollen, dust mites, dander and couple of other things I forgot but those are the main ones.

Then, for the longest time when I visited Las Vegas I was miraculously cured. Seems the dry heat and non-humidity did wonders for my allergies. I could breathe! Of course, I would inevitably return to NJ and *cough* *sneeze* ick.

When we moved to Vegas I thought I was home-free and better breathing was mine. In fact, I told people that this was a main selling point for me. I can breathe better in the desert. And it was so.

For the first year.

But it was not meant to be. Those dang allergies followed me out here to the West Coast. Any time it was windy, or even a day before the winds came I would start sneezing.

Nooooooo! It can't be, I cried. Okay, I didn't actually cry. But there was some sniffling. Maybe due to the allergies. Anyway, I saw a doctor and she said that my allergy-free time was referred to as the "Honeymoon Period". After all, I do live in the desert, so it stands to reason that I develop an allergy to the dust around here.

So I basically traded in one set of allergies for new ones.


My go-to drug of choice is Claritin 24 hour relief. But sometimes it makes me sleepy. Yes, even the non-drowsy one. My body's weird like that. But at least it stops all the icky symptoms. Oh yeah, new home, new allergies, and new symptoms. My eyes now water and my ears itch. I'm a mess.

My new doctor (whom I love!) is sending me to an allergist to be tested for whatever new allergies I've most likely developed. I see this guy in 2 days. I can only imagine.

Singed hair or How do these things keep happening to me?

I love scented candles. They smell nice, yummy and floral. They add ambiance to a room. And sometimes I just like to stare into the flame.

I have a collection of candle holders in different shapes, sizes and colors. And I confess that I stop and smell the candles at the store. Sweet Pea smells awesome. And Christmas Cookie at the holidays smells good enough to eat.

Now, I know the dangers of fire and how to use a candle a safely. Still, that didn't stop me from singeing some of my hair the other day.

How? you might ask. It was one of those simple yet stupid things that can only happen to me. At least this is what Bill tells me.

I had my little candle in a jar all lit and smelling pretty on my bedside table. I was on my computer (as always) doing (important) stuff. I needed something: a flyer, notice, invite whatever to update my calendar. So I reached down  on the floor to where the document lay (it was there temporarily just so you don't think I throw stuff on my floor and live like a hoarder).

But then I couldn't get enough oomph to get myself back on the bed properly so I leaned back a bit to grab for my headboard and that's when it happened. The sizzling sound. That smell. I had singed some of my hair. Luckily it was just a tiny few strands.

When I told Bill he gave me that "it figures" look and said I was lucky all my hair didn't catch fire. He's right because that could've been really inconvenient. Then he said it smelled like burnt hair and grabbed some Febreeze to spray the room.

The lessons here are:

1. Don't leave important papers on the floor. Leave them on your table. But not near the flame.
2. When leaning out of bed to get something always remember where your candle is.
3. Don't look to your husband for sympathy when doing stupid things that seem otherwise simple when you first consider them.

Juggling

I'm not a juggler. I don't play one on TV and no, I didn't sleep at a Holiday Inn last night.

But I often feel like I'm trying to keep all my balls up in the air and not doing a very good job of it. One or two always seem to fall on the floor. It's like that Michelle Pfeiffer/George Clooney movie, "One Fine Day" where her character is trying to explain how she tries to juggle all the things in her life. See clip here. The part I'm referring to starts at the 8:15 mark.

It's hard to do it all. And I envy the women who do. And I hate the ones who do it all while smiling and looking fabulous. How?!?! If my writing is going well and I'm super-mommy and JDRF volunteer/advocate then my house is a mess. If my house is in order, Little Man is happy, his homework done and I've done my volunteering, then my writing suffers. Grrr!

You can see from my sporadic blog posts when I'm busy in other areas of life. Maybe I need better time-management. Maybe I should stop trying to be such a control freak about it all. Maybe I need a vacation to a Caribbean island with blue water, white sand, a massage, fresh fruit and drinks. Maybe I should stop day-dreaming and finish this blog post so I can be ready for when Little Man comes home from school. Then we can do homework and I can start supper, clear the table, do the dishes, go to the park, pack his lunch, watch a video, sort some laundry for tomorrow, etc. etc.

Perfect Attendance

Little Man hasn't missed a day of school since he started Kindergarten 4 years ago. We're talking present and accounted for Every. Day.

Even on days when he has a doctor's appointment with his Endocrinologist (I refer to as the diabetes doctor) he still shows up and then goes to his appointment. The last time, he went to school, left to see the doc and then came back.

He goes willingly. Even with a little cold. Nope, can't stay home. Must maintain perfect record. He's proud of this achievement and has almost a dozen certificates and ribbons for that distinction. His school has awards assemblies each trimester where they acknowledge A/B Honor Roll, Good Citizenship and Perfect Attendance.

Sadly he came down with a cold and fever and was forced to miss 2 days last week. He was bummed out about it. I know, it's unnatural. What kid wouldn't want to miss school? Most kids would even hold the thermometer near a hot bulb or under hot water to con their mothers into thinking they had a fever. No judging. I'm sure many have done something in order to play hooky.

In our case, the Little Man actually likes his school. I do, too. Heck I wouldn't want to give in to a cold and stay home either if my school had been like his. The teachers are young and hip. There's more patience and less yelling. And no one gets a pencil thrown at them for talking out of turn. (true story).

After his 2 day sick leave he returned to school feeling bad about breaking his attendance streak. But then the teacher told him she missed him and his friends were all glad to see him and soon enough he was happy, smiling and running around again. It was business as usual on the playground.

Verizon almost got me killed

I tried to pay my Verizon Wireless bill last night but when I went to log in I somehow had the incorrect password and eventually it locked me out of the account. There was much cursing.

In order to access the account I now had to enter the last 4 SSN digits of the primary account holder (husband). I did this and then it prompted me for a Verifiable Bill Security Password. What in the heyall? I guessed. I was wrong. I tried again. Still wrong. I cursed again.

It then said if I had any problems to contact customer service. More cursing on my end. So, I reluctantly dialed their 800 number. After choosing the directory I needed it asked me for the account password. Huh? If I knew that I wouldn't be calling now, would I? I pressed 0 hoping to get to an operator. "Option invalid." I said "representative." It continued to cycle through my options, none of which pertained to me.

I started shouting into my phone "Representative! A human! Someone who can help me!" As if sensing my frustration and how close I was to flushing my phone down the toilet the automated system told me to press 0 if I wanted to speak to a Customer Care Associate. Finally!!

Paul came on the line and after his introductory spiel asked me how he could help. I explained the problem. He said since I was only an Account Manager and not the Primary Account Holder he couldn't tell me the password on file. Christ on a bike! I'm the effing wife! I pay this damn bill! I told Paul I knew my husband's mother's maiden name, the name of his first dog, his height, weight and blood type. Help me out for the love of all that's holy! He laughed and said if I knew the last 4 digits of his SSN, that would work. Oy! Didn't I already do this? Okay, fine, so I give him the numbers.

Paul unlocked the account and texted a temporary password to Bill's phone which I entered. Then Paul had to do a few more things in order for me to go online and change the password again to something I would remember.

While Paul did his thing I joked around with him. "Ya know my husband is going to kill me for changing the password. The headlines will scream "Verizon blamed in death of wife". There'll be a media firestorm. People will be outraged, customers will switch service providers and stocks will plummet. All because of Verizon's security protocol."

Paul was hysterical. "See, you should be glad I called. It was a break in the monotony of your shift." I said. He agreed.

When we finally concluded our business he asked the usual .."anything else I can help you with?"

"No, but thank you for your help, patience and courtesy. In spite of the fact that I am late in paying my bill."

Then I paid my bill online and wrote a nice complimentary email to Verizon's Customer Service Department in which I mentioned Paul being so helpful.

I also made a note of the new password for future bill payment. Hopefully I don't lose it.

Hey I'm totally linking up with Yeah Write. Check it out:

 

Best way to spend a Saturday night

Going to see a show on the Strip:  $50 and up, give or take an arm or a leg.

Going to see a movie: $50 including over-priced tickets, stale, unevenly buttered popcorn, watered-down drink, and half filled box of raisinets.

Getting your butt kicked by your 8-year old while playing Go Fish in the comfort of your own home:  Priceless.

And embarrassing.


I'm linking up with the Yeah Write blogging peeps.

A Vegas-style snow day

This morning at 8:00 am my cell phone rang and since I didn't recognize the number I let it go to voice mail.  I figured I would deal with it later. Oh and for the record, nothing good ever comes from an early morning phone call. Usually someone's dead, in an accident, stranded or in need of a change of clothes. Morbid, yes. But true. Good phone calls usually come late morning when you're dressed and on your third cup of coffee and second load of laundry. But I digress.

Twenty minutes later there's a commotion downstairs and my son comes bursting into my room to say there's no school. My immediate thought is did it snow? What can I say? I'm from the East Coast and days off happen when there's bad weather.

Then Billy comes in and tells me the school is in lock down because of a shooter in the area and all kids are being sent home or re-routed to a nearby middle school.

Whoa! Shooter? Lock Down? What The Eff???

This is a relatively quiet area. Sure we have your routine criminal activity but nothing like this. So I immediately go online while Billy puts on the TV news to find out what's going on. Turns out some guy was shooting an apartment in the complex across the street from my son's school. He drove through the garage and holed himself up inside. It was a standoff.

The school's principal called 2 more times this morning with a recorded message updating us on the situation. Oh and the phone call I missed earlier was the school district telling me what was happening.

Just before noon, a final phone call advised us that the lock down was lifted and students could return to the school but we were already on out way out to lunch with the kid. I figured the day was pretty much done and he wasn't going to learn anything in 2 hours (not counting phys. ed. and lunch/recess) so we kept him home. I can't imagine much learning would be taking place anyway.

I'm just grateful it all worked out and the kids are all safe. Unfortunately, the suspect hasn't been caught, yet.

And I'm trying not to get all panicked and freak out about Chris returning to school tomorrow, despite my mother, the Doom-Sayer, who keeps mentioning that the shooter is still at-large. Thanks, Mom. You can go back to your soap box now and let everyone know that the world is ending soon.

Stop pretending to write

The other night Billy and I were watching TV. A commercial for the new movie, "Hunger Games" came on. (I had never read the books but knew enough that the movie is based on them.) So I was all wow, another author writes a book (series) and not only gets published but has a movie made about them. I just want to get published and settle for mediocre fame.

So Billy looks at me and says, "Maybe when you stop pretending to write you'll actually get published."

I'm taken aback, not in anger but more in a hmmm, go on way. "Explain," I reply and now he has my undivided attention.

And he says: "You write all these things, these articles and other stories that are good, but when you write like you do on your blog, that's great."

Okay. Wait a sec, he thinks my blog posts are great? Cool. Very cool.

"But the articles I write, some need just facts and they don't want the author's PoV," I said.

"All I know is that those posts are interesting. They come from inside your head, they're real," he further explained.

Then he left the room to do whatever man-business he needed to do and I sat there. Thinking.

Who was it that said, "When you write, be real." I think it was Stephen King. It could have been Mark Twain. Shakespeare?
Anyway, Bill doesn't sugar-coat things. He's a great 'first-reader' like that. If it's good, he says so and if it isn't he'll say that, too. And 9 times out of 10 his advice is sound. And who would've thought he'd give the same sage advice as some of the great authors? Especially considering he doesn't like to read? Except when he's pretending to.

Cough cough, sniffle

I was all set to go volunteer at my local JDRF chapter this past Wednesday but then I got sick with a cold. I thought it best not to infect others so I stayed home.

Now I'm feeling much better except I still have the sniffles and an occasional cough. And I might be losing my voice because sometimes when I talk I sound like Froggy from The Little Rascals.

Thankfully the girl who was doing my nails today wore a surgical mask for most of my appointment. She heard me sniffle and croak when I spoke and asked me if I was sick. And so I told her it was only allergies, which prompted a 10-minute conversation about that. Yes, I lied to the poor girl. Don't judge! At least she had that protective mask covering her face while I was breathing in all those nail grinding and acrylic fumes. It kind of evens things out.

I hate when colds linger on and you end up sounding way worse than you really are and people avoid you like you have the plague. Actually that might be a good thing because now no one will bother me. Cough, cough.

Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a God!

Doctors. We tend to treat them like gods. We don't always question their diagnoses. We don't challenge them or ask questions. It's like, they're doctors so they should know better. Right? Wrong.

Sure they have lots of higher education and tend to be smart but they're people, just like you and me. They put their pants on one leg at a time. Unless, they're women and wear skirts. Or men who wear skirts, in which case I don't want to know.

I know some people who take a doctor's word as gospel. These same people who would reign down holy terror if the cable guy showed up late, don't even make a peep if the doctor doesn't return a phone call within a decent time frame. They even make excuses. He said he would call me back this afternoon, he must've been busy. And then they continue to wait for the phone to ring. Perhaps when they are carrying their head under their arm they'll consider actually calling the doctor themselves and demanding to speak with him/her.

Recently Bill was talking to a female he works with. She mentioned that she had been feeling shaky all day. He asked her what was wrong. She told him she was just diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic. He said her blood-sugar levels must be very low and got her some soda and a granola bar, which immediately made her feel better.

As they talked Bill asked her what her blood-sugar levels were when she was diagnosed. She said she didn't know, because her doctor didn't tell her.  What the funk?? Bill told her she should find out because it was her right to know. He gave her some tips and advice and other information (which she had not fully received) and lastly he gave her the name and number of our primary doctor. Because clearly her current one hasn't got clue #1 when it comes to patient care or diabetes.

So what is it about doctors that turns normally strong-willed, loud-of-voice, take-charge people into meek, little kids? It's mind-boggling.

You should never fear your doctor. You should always ask questions, seek second opinions and never take anything for granted. It's your health! I'm not saying be a disrespectful assmunch to them. Just don't sit back and put your health on cruise-control. Doctors aren't perfect. Even Bones was wise enough to know his limitations.

Bones: "I'm just a country doctor."

To lighten up an otherwise serious post (not to mention, show off my geekness) here's a brief video montage of  Dr.  McCoy speaking his famous line: "I'm a doctor, not a..."

Frankly my dear...I love this movie

The other night I watched Gone With The Wind for possibly the hundredth time. It's one of those movies that when you come across it on TV you have to watch, regardless of how many times you've seen it before. Like, The Godfather.

What's not to love about this classic movie? It's romantic, a bit historical and has two fabulous stars in leading roles. I came up with my own list of reasons why I love this movie and why if it came on right now, I'd watch it. Again.

5. The book.
I've read the book and seen the movie. The movie stayed pretty true to the book and I enjoy(ed) both. I think most good movies come from books. Although most movies don't live up to their book versions, GWTW did and still does.

4.  The Time Period.
I love the pre-Civil War or antebellum period. The Southern plantations, the dresses worn by the Southern belles, the scenery, was all gorgeous. Maybe I'm romanticizing it but that era was itself, romantic. Who wouldn't want to live in Tara?


3.  Mammy.
Long before Nell Carter on Gimme A Break, there was Hattie McDaniel as Mammy. Who wouldn't want her as a caretaker? She was sensible, feisty and kept you in line. Scarlett may not have always been good to  her but I'd like to think that in her own way, she adored her Mammy.

2. Rhett Butler.
Do I really have to say anything else? Sure he was a rogue and a scoundrel but he was dashing, debonair, handsome and one of the original bad boys. Who can blame Scarlett for falling for him? Even though she realized too late...

1. Scarlett O'Hara.
She was selfish. She was mean. She was conniving, manipulative and broke almost all of the 10 Commandments. So why do I love her? She was a strong woman in a time when women were more damsels in distress. Sometimes her ends may not have justified the means but she did what needed to be done. She also didn't give a damn who liked her or what they thought of her. Some girls/women today could learn a lesson or two from her.

Bad blogger, bad!

I've been a bad blogger lately. I apologize for that, especially those who come here faithfully and find nothing new to read. What can I say? I suck!!!!!

Seriously, I've been battling mild depression and my anxiety has flared up resulting in insomnia and fits of itchiness. Yeah, real pleasant. So with all that, I haven't felt much like writing or talking (weird, I know!) and my blog and articles have suffered.

But I think the fog is finally starting to lift. I'll spare everyone and refrain from singing "I Can See Clearly Now". However, if you really want to hear my rendition, just lock two cats in a shower stall with some catnip and a piece of string. Ahhh, the sweet, melodic sounds of kitties fighting.

From here on out I shall try to be more vigilant in my blogging, even if I just post jokes, or funny pictures or pictures of funny jokes or funny jokes with pictures.

Thanks for understanding.

An open letter to Smith's Grocery Store

Dear Smith's,

I <3 you. Seriously. I want to marry you and have mini marts with you. Okay maybe that last part was a bit too much but it's a testament to how much I like shopping at your store.

Unlike those 'big box' impersonal chains, you are smaller and easier to move around. And even though you don't always carry certain products or some of your items are a bit pricier, I remain faithful to you.

Shopping in your store also makes my whole trip more pleasant. I don't have to fight my way through the aisles among wandering people in mis-matched clothing who stand smack dab in the middle trying to decide between two different brands of denture cream. Pushy shoppers don't hit me in the back of the leg with their shopping carts either.

Most importantly, I don't leave all frazzled and wanting to stuff someone inside the ice cream freezer. So in a way you also provide an important health and safety service for mankind.

I love that I don't have to wait on an endless line while some woman at the register argues about price or fishes loose change from the bottom of her pocketbook. Your store isn't afraid to open a new register to accommodate me.

For all of these reasons, I don't mind grocery shopping, which I usually hate more than de-linting my socks.

Sincerely,
A happy shopper

Funny Signs

This is hilarious. Graffiti on Signs

They have Phil, we have Max

 It's Groundhog Day and while the nation looks to Pennsylvania and Punxatawny Phil to see whether there will be 6 more weeks of winter or an early Spring, we in Las Vegas check in with Mojave Max, the tortoise. Not that it matters either way to us. Our winters are usually mild and end quickly.

That's where Max comes in. Students in Vegas try to guess when Max will come out of hibernation so Spring can begin. So far, Max is still asleep. Lucky tortoise. He gets to sleep and no one rudely wakes him up.

Anyway, my guess is he'll wake up and stumble out of bed sometime in mid-March. Night night Max. See you in a few weeks.

Love makes it all worth it

Ah the joys of Motherhood.

First there's pregnancy. The nausea, puking, backaches. Your stomach grows so that you resemble a Macy's parade balloon.

Then comes labor in all its excruciating glory; the pushing, the yelling, the mess and finally a baby.  And then there are the sleepless nights and a routine of eat, sleep, poop and repeat.

Followed by:
Chasing after a newly walking and then running, toddler on the loose.

Stepping on Legos and assorted action figures in the middle of the night.

Cleaning up missed aim even after repeating the phrase, "Do pee pee into the toilet."

Temper tantrums because he doesn't want to be there wherever there is and total meltdowns because he's hungry.

The many 'nots': Not eating what you prepared, not listening when you say "don't touch that", not wanting to do homework.

The endless cleaning of stickiness, spillages, crumbs, and fingerprints.

And then one day he hugs you and says, "Mom, I could never get a better mother than you. I love you."

And that, well, that wipes away all the pain and challenging times and makes it all worth it.

We interrupt this blog to say "Thank You"

I'd like to take a few minutes out of my daily blog to thank all of the awesome people/fellow bloggers who come to read my posts, comment on them and/or have joined as a member. I heart you. Really, I do.

Although I love to write and do it because I have an insatiable need to comment on everything, it does make me feel less like I'm talking to myself when other people pop in. *Choked up sob* I promised myself I wouldn't cry...I'm kidding.

So, a big ol' Thank You to you all. I enjoy reading your comments and likewise, I enjoy reading your blogs as well. And thanks to Erica and Yeah Write - Love Links for letting me share my blog and giving me the opportunity to meet some fabulous people. Still waiting for a bottle of bathtub gin, though. Anyway, you all rock!

And that concludes our mushy segment of this blog. We now return you to our usual snark.

Attitude of Gratitude

About a month ago, during one of my insomniac nights when my mind is a tornado of all things wrong/not done/could be better in my life I started thinking instead of all the things I am grateful for in my life. As I mentally ticked off my blessings I realized I have a lot to be grateful for and this made me smile. It also made me relax enough to fall asleep. Or maybe it was the counting that finally did me in. Math always did bore me, but I digress.

I call it my Attitude of Gratitude list because it improves my attitude. I realize it may sound like cheesy, religious spiel or something you see on Oprah but I think it helps to calm me if I focus on all the good in my life instead of the stupidly wrong. It certainly lightens my attitude enough to not want to plot the diabolical ends of people who piss me off. Well, no, I still do that I just don't act on it and I thank my Gratitude list for that.

I also don't walk around all "Mary Sunshine" either but when I start to feel down or can't sleep it's nice to pull out this mental list. It reminds me of what matters.

My Gratitude list probably includes the same as a lot of peoples:  family, good friends, a home, a job (if you're fortunate enough to have one, especially one you enjoy). I mention stuff I sometimes take for granted like good physical health and little things like my love of reading and writing.

Then there are those who make the list automatically no matter how much they annoyed the crap out of me like Bill or my mom. But not the dogs next door who are always barking their little heads off like wind-up toys, no they go on the List-to-plot-the-diabolical-ends-of-but-don't-actually-do-it. They should be grateful for that list.


Anyway, everyone has something or some things that they are grateful for. Do you have a list and what (or who) is on it? Feel free to share.

Attack of the killer mutant snow goons

I'm a big fan of Calvin & Hobbes and my favorite is the Snow Art series. If you're not familiar with the comic, it's about a little boy (Calvin) and his stuffed tiger (Hobbes - which in his mind is alive). Each winter when it snowed they set about making snow men, but not your cute, run-of-the-mill Frosty types. These were freakish snow monsters sometimes doing horrific things. Hilarious. So in honor of winter and the recent snow that has fallen in many parts of the country, here are some pics of Calvin & Hobbes and their mutant snow goons:

So that's how it works? I was totally using it wrong.

The other night I got up to go to the bathroom. Bill (the husband) turned and asked me, "Where are you going?" I told him. And then he asked, "Why are you taking your cell phone?" I looked at him and replied, "Because it's my flashlight." Then he turned over and went back to sleep.

What? Oh come now, I know I'm not the first person to use their cell phone as a flashlight to see in the dark. In fact, I use other things in ways not intended. I'm sure you do, too. Take for instance, a butter knife. It makes a handy screwdriver. Especially if something comes loose in the kitchen. See the convenience there?

I use Bill's pillow to prop my laptop on if I'm on my bed. This annoys him, mostly when he needs his pillow to go to sleep. He went out and bought me a laptop stand just for this reason. I use it to stack all my I'll-deal-with-it-later mail. At least it's being used!

Apparently this misuse of things runs in the family. My mom's letter opener broke. She now uses a paring knife to open her mail. I asked her why she didn't just go out and buy a new letter opener. Her answer: "Why? This knife works just as well." I get where you're comin' from, Mom.

Anxiety and panic

If you're a fan of The Bloggess, like I am, you may have read her Post in which she discusses her fight with depression last week. I read it. And it inspired me to share my own struggles with anxiety and panic disorder.

These are not easy illnesses to talk about. The stigma that surrounds them and the lack of understanding by society makes many of us hide away how we truly feel. Dealing with anxiety attacks and panic disorder is scary and frustrating and makes me feel damaged. This isn't something I can "get over". Nor is it something I do for attention. Believe me, there are lots more fun ways to be in the spotlight. Being unable to breathe and breaking out in a cold sweat are not them.

I can't tell you what started my disorders. There are no traumatic events or serious illnesses that caused them. Just like I couldn't tell you when or where I might suffer an attack. All I know is that they are physically debilitating.  The anxiety causes me to feel out of control and then I panic and all I know is that I feel like I've got to get out of here. Now! I remember avoiding some outings just so I didn't chance an attack happening. But that made me feel like a recluse and I hated missing out. I knew there was something wrong so I made an appointment to see a doctor and he diagnosed me.

Currently I take medication which makes me feel even-keeled. I haven't had any episodes or attacks in almost three years. And even then they were minor in scale because of the meds. Now, I'm not advocating pills to deal with anxiety, panic or whatever disorder you suffer from. I'm just saying that they work for me. And as long as my fabulous doctor is in agreement, I'll keep taking them.

I'm hoping for a time when I won't be dependent on medication to get through the day. Right now, though, I still need them. I'm not ready yet and too scared to go pill-free. I'm like a little kid and the world is my big, scary closet full of monsters. However, the meds help me keep the closet door closed, until I'm ready to slay the monsters on my own.

Get linked!

No more lives to live

It's the end of an era. A daytime era to be exact. Today marked the last airing of the ABC daytime soap opera, "One Life To Live".

I haven't watched the show as religiously as I did years ago but I always kept in touch with the happenings. I did watch the last two weeks just to see how it would all end. Would all loose ends get tied up? Would characters get their happy-ever-after? Would Llanview be decimated off the map? (I know it's a fictional town that was never really on the map in the first place, but humor me.)

My grandma got my mom into the show and then I got interested. Even after my grandma died and my mom went back to work and lost interest, I kept watching, until such a time as I could no longer keep up.

OLTL has been around longer than I've been alive. Not that I'm so old but still it's a long time. And I always thought it would be around, waiting for me to come back like a long-lost son or the daughter it never knew existed.

It's a shame that ABC didn't see the value in this show (or All My Children - which it canceled September 2011). These shows are an escape, like a good trashy novel. They amuse us, anger us, and mostly entertain us. The characters become family. We cheer for them and cry with them. But that's what a good show does...it gets us involved.  Sure it's make-believe and some of the story lines are so far-fetched but that's what makes it so much fun. It's a guilty pleasure.

Who knows, maybe somewhere down the road the show will be resurrected and come back from the dead like a favorite character.

In the meantime, farewell Llanview and all your inhabitants: Viki/Niki Lord Reilly Buchanan  etc.etc., the Buchanan cowboys, the crazy Cramers, the beautiful Llanfair mansion and everyone else. I'm gonna miss you.

Strong emotions

When I was a little girl and I felt strongly against something I would use the word hate. My grandmother would say, "Hate is a strong word. Say instead that you dislike it." These days I tell Little Man the same thing.

And then the other night while I was giving him an insulin shot he said that he hated diabetes and he hated God for giving it to him. At first I went to correct him but then I thought he's feeling what he wants and expressing himself about his disease. He doesn't actually hate God, he's just looking for someone to blame for it all. Me too. So I said nothing and just hugged him.

Dislike might be a nicer way to express how much you don't like something. But sometimes disliking something isn't enough. I don't just dislike having to watch him prick his little fingers or giving him insulin shots. I Hate it. I hate that he has this disease. I hate that he has to be mindful of what he eats. I hate that we have to monitor his blood glucose levels. I hate when his levels are high and I hate when they are low. And most of all I hate that I have no one and nothing to blame for him having diabetes in the first place. Sorry Grandma, I don't just dislike it, I HATE it.

I keep my hate to myself. But I let Little Man openly feel what he wants to feel as he manages his life as a diabetic. If he wants to cry, I let him. If he wants to scream, I let him. If he wants to hate the disease, I let him. The only thing I won't do is let him cope on his own. For the most part these dramatic displays of emotion are few and far between. Mostly he just gets frustrated or loses patience. Like if his blood glucose meter doesn't register his blood sugar levels correctly because of an insufficient amount of blood on the test strip and he has to prick another finger. It's understandable.

Oh and later on that evening as I was tucking him into bed he told me he didn't really hate God, he was just really upset. I Love that kid.

Happy Optimistic New Year!

2011 wasn't all that great. For a lot of people. I don't need to go into the details because we all know the hardships people are enduring. Still, on New Year's Eve and in the 2 days following, I've sensed a lot of optimism in the air. Folks feel happy to a greet a new year. They've shelved the old year and look ahead with renewed purpose. It's like a sense of camaraderie, of "We're all in this together" and "This is going to be our year!"

I feel it, too. I look to 2012 with hope and good feeling. I've set some goals and feel good about attaining them. I wish everyone a wonderful new year filled with renewal, betterment and goodness. Let's do this!

Farewell 2011

Last post of the year. And what a challenging year it has been. Not just for me but for many others as well. My son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, which sucked and continues to suck but we are dealing with it. There's been disappointments, frustrations and sadness. But not all of 2011 was bad.

My best friend came out to surprise me for my birthday and we had an amazing time. I re-formatted my blog and became more serious about posting and writing. There's been more family togetherness, which sometimes made me want to curl up in a corner and eat my hair. Mmm Herbal Essence, tasty.

I think 2012 will be awesome. Despite what the Mayan Chicken Littles say. I don't usually like to make resolutions but I do set some personal goals to achieve throughout the year. So hopefully I'll be thinner with some stories and a book published. And then the world will end. Be just my luck.

Have a happy, healthy New Year and be safe wherever you plan to celebrate.

New Year's Traditions

When we lived in New Jersey, it was traditional to ring in the New Year with Dick Clark and watch the ball drop in Times Square. We also laughed at all the silly people freezing their butts off while we sat all warm at home but I digress. Whether we hosted a party, went to a party or spent a quiet NYE at home, we did so while watching the festivities in the City.

Now that we live in Las Vegas our new tradition for ringing the new year is to watch the fireworks over the hotels on the Strip. Last year we sat in a heated car until the last minute, got out to watch the display, wish each other a Happy Happy and ran back in the car. It was unusually freezing cold!

Aside from how you spend the evening, there are also certain traditions/superstitions that are practiced to ensure good luck, good fortune, happiness and more in the new year. One year we celebrated NYE with another couple we were good friends with. The husband brought over a pot of lentil soup and insisted that when the clock struck midnight we each eat a spoonful of the soup. Doing this was supposed to bring us good fortune in the coming year. The soup was good, the fortune so-so.

My great-grandmother was full of these rituals. She believed that you should have all your laundry done and your house clean before the midnight hour or else the new year would find you always washing clothes in a filthy house. She also believed that you should pay off all necessary debts or else you would be continually broke and owing other people.That's easier said than done these days. She had food traditions, too. Eating red cabbage meant good luck. However, cabbage leaves some people gassy, which means bad luck for the others around them.

Anyway, here's a short list of New Year's traditions from around the world. Extra commentary by me is in blue at the end.

Spain
At midnight, it's customary to eat 12 grapes, one at each stroke of the clock. Each one signifies good luck for one month of the coming year. Unless you choke on grape # 3.

Finland
The Finnish predict their fortunes for the coming year by casting molten tin into a container of water and interpreting the shape the metal takes after it hardens. A heart or ring shape means a wedding, a ship signifies travel, a pig means lots of good food. Or that you've made a pig of yourself in the last year.

Philippines
Round shapes which represent coins, symbolize prosperity. There are heaps of round fruits on dining tables. Some folks eat precisely a dozen fruits at midnight. Polka dots are also thought to bring good luck. So dressing in a polka dot dress should get you lucky! 

Belarus
Unmarried women play games to predict who will get hitched in the new year. In one game, a pile of corn is put in front of each woman and a rooster is let loose. Whatever pile he approaches first shows which woman will be the first to marry. This is worse than standing to catch the bride's bouquet.

Denmark
People stand on chairs and jump off them at the same time at midnight to banish evil spirits and bring good luck. Unless you fall off the chair or go through the floor, then the evil spirits have the last laugh.

Central & South America
Folks wear special underwear in places like Brazil, Ecuador, Bolivia and Venezuela. Red means love; yellow means money. Brown means dirty.

Merry Christmas!

It's Christmas Eve. All is calm right now. But later, it will be busy and loud and tons of fun. There will be food and laughing and music and presents. We celebrate Christmas Eve and since my son still believes in Santa Claus there will be presents for him to open Christmas morning.

But for now, tonight is the big deal. Me, Husband and Little Man will gather with my parents, my brother and our uncle. I cannot wait. I still look forward to Christmas Eve like a little kid. I love to watch people open the gifts from us. My son has taken over the duty of passing out the gifts and reading the names off the tags. Once the gifts are opened we sit and have dessert. I provide the baked cookies and my mom usually has some sort of cake or pie. Then there's more talking and laughing and fun.

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas wherever, however and with whomever you spend it.Whether it's a grand affair or a small intimate gathering, have yourself a merry little Christmas.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland

Here's to not getting the shaft this Christmas

There are a few presents under my tree. I had to wrap them and place them there because of Cousin Eddie. I'll explain. One of my family's favorite Christmas movies is "Christmas Vacation." If you haven't seen it then this post will make no sense to you. If you have seen the movie, carry on.

Well, Little Man bought a few token gifts for family at his school's Holiday Boutique. A few days later he put them in their little gift bags and placed them under the tree. Then everyday he would check to see if any more presents were there. My dad (in jest) referenced the Chevy Chase holiday movie and said "Maybe we're all getting the shaft this Christmas." Little Man asked him what that meant and my dad explained.

Excerpt from the movie:
Clark: "And if you believe in him, and you believe in your mom, and you believe in your... your dad, and if you've been good all year round, Santa Clause is going to bring you something."
Ruby Sue: "Sometimes I think all that Santa crap's just bull. If he was so real, how come we didn't get squat last year? We didn't do nothing wrong, and we still got the shaft."


Little Man seemed a bit concerned and said "I was very good this year. I hope I don't get the shaft." Then my mom told me my dad felt bad and that I should hurry up and put some things under the tree to reassure Little Man that he was getting presents for Christmas.

Thanks, dad.

And thanks, Cousin Eddie, for not getting a job (in 7 years!) and buying your kids Christmas presents so that they wouldn't get the shaft, thereby making it possible for my dad to tell my kid about your Christmas fail and making me wrap presents and put them under my tree earlier than usual.

Frosty, the Miser Brothers, Kris Kringle and other Christmas 'toons

So, in reality I'm an 8-year old girl living in an adult woman's body because I love love love watching the Christmas cartoons each year on television. "Frosty the Snowman" - Happy Birthday! "The Year Without A Santa Claus" has me singing the Snow Miser and Heat Miser songs. And I still get a little choked up when Kris marries Miss Jessica on "Santa Claus is Coming to Town".

I've been watching these each year since I was a little children. Now, I enjoy them even more with my son. It's so cool to sit with him and watch something that I grew up with and see his reactions. He also sings along with the Miser brothers and he thinks the Burger Meister Meister Burger is a poop.

We also watch the newer animated Christmas specials like "The Polar Express". He asked me if I would get on the train and I told him - Absolutely! But I would want to toot the horn and steer. Please hold the women-as-bad-drivers jokes.

I am a big Peanuts fan and I'm proud to say my kid is, too so it goes without saying that our favorite Christmas show is "A Charlie Brown Christmas." We get up and dance with Snoopy and the gang and laugh when Snoopy kisses Lucy. Spending time watching these holiday shows with him makes Christmas even more special.

I've got a store!

I am now hawking my wares on Zazzle.com. Ok, so far there's just one tee shirt with a creepy black widow spider on it, but! I designed it myself. Go here and buy buy buy! My store is called Desert Sinsation. More cool stuff coming.

Christmas humor

Take time to laugh amid all the hustle & bustle and craziness of the season.

A Sign of the Times
As a little girl climbed onto Santa's lap, Santa asked the usual, "And what would you like for Christmas?"
The child stared at him open mouthed and horrified for a minute, then gasped: "Didn't you get my E-mail?"

20 Ways To Confuse Santa Claus:

1. Instead of milk and cookies, leave him a salad, and a note explaining that you think he could stand to lose a few pounds.
2. While he's in the house, go find his sleigh and write him a speeding ticket.
3. Leave him a note, explaining that you've gone away for the holidays. Ask if he would mind watering your plants.
4. While he's in the house, replace all his reindeer with exact replicas. Then wait and see what happens when he tries to get them to fly.
5. Keep an angry bull in your living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when he sees a little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa suit!
6. Build an army of mean-looking snowmen on the roof, holding signs that say "We hate Christmas," and "Go away Santa."
7. Leave a note by the telephone, telling Santa that Mrs. Claus called and wanted to remind him to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread on his way home.
8. Throw a surprise party for Santa when he comes down the chimney. Refuse to let him leave until the strippers arrive.
9. While he's in the house, find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes back and sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that last payment, and take off.
10. Leave a plate filled with cookies and a glass of milk out, with a note that says, "For The Tooth Fairy. :)" Leave another plate out with half a stale cookie and a few drops of skim milk in a dirty glass with a note that says, "For Santa. :("
11. Take everything out of your house as if it's just been robbed. When Santa arrives, show up dressed like a policeman and say, "Well, well. They always return to the scene of the crime."
12. Leave out a copy of your Christmas list with last-minute changes and corrections.
13. While he's in the house, cover the top of the chimney with barbed wire.
14. Leave lots of hunting trophies and guns out where Santa's sure to see them. Go outside, yell, "Ooh! Look! A deer! And he's got a red nose!" and fire a gun.
15. Leave Santa a note, explaining that you've moved. Include a map with unclear and hard-to-read directions to your new house.
16. Set a bear trap at the bottom of the chimney. Wait for Santa to get caught in it, and then explain that you're sorry, but from a distance, he looked like a bear.
17. Leave out a Santa suit, with a dry-cleaning bill.
18. Paint "hoof-prints" all over your face and clothes. While he's in the house, go out on the roof. When he comes back up, act like you've been "trampled." Threaten to sue.
19. Instead of ornaments, decorate your tree with Easter eggs.
20. Dress up like the Easter Bunny. Wait for Santa to come and then say, "This neighborhood ain't big enough for the both of us."

Dear Santa,

I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the backdoor.
Love, Susan

Dear Susan,

Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my face. You want to be a kiss-ass? Leave me a glass of Chivas Regal and some Toblerone.
Santa

Burnt dinner rolls and other Thanksgiving traditions

As far as popular traditions go, we don't say grace before the meal or share what we're most thankful for and we certainly won't line up outside a store waiting for Black Friday sales. Our holiday tradition involves a foodie mishap. Every. Year.

Every Thanksgiving my family gathers for a delicious meal. The turkey is moist, the gravy is lumpless, the potatoes are mashed. But somehow, no matter what, the dinner rolls suffer. We follow the directions, we set a timer, we check them half-way through. They still get burnt. My uncle calls it Cajun-style. We laugh about it and my mom says it's tradition to serve burned dinner rolls. I've done it. Mom has done. Sometimes it's just the bottoms. One year, sadly, they were inedible.

In the past I was able to blame my stove because it cooked unevenly. Then we got a new stove and there went my excuse. Mom usually gets distracted and then - suddenly!- remembers the rolls in the oven. I tried scraping the burnt bits off the bottoms once. I think I finally got fed up and just cut the burnt part off and we served bottomless buns.

Got nothing better to do?

Someone sent me this in an email. If you're a professional time-waster, like me, this will provide hours of entertainment. Make sure you have your sound turned on so you can hear the Boing!

door stopper fun

Facebore

Am I the only one bored with all the inane statuses people are posting on Facebook? Things like "Joe Has-no-life is at Target shopping." Really? Well, while you're there, pick me up a few things, Joe, so I don't have to go out later and post the same lame status. There are those who choose to post every time they do something or who use Facebook as their own personal check list. "Going grocery shopping." An hour later I get to read that they are now done grocery shopping and have begun to clean the house. Unless you did both in a clown suit or, naked...Nobody Cares!!

Some people feel a need to post based on every emotion they feel. "I'm pissed." "I'm so happy." "I'm so sad." This prompts other "friends" to reply with sympathy or questions asking "why?" Now, I understand if someone writes something because they need encouragement or want to share some joyous news. But, really, must every stinkin' thing good, bad or otherwise be documented? Did you win the lottery and are you giving me a share? Did you find the body of Jimmy Hoffa in your yard? Because I really could care less that you're tired and going to sleep.

I'd be really impressed to read that someone swallowed a whistle and now every time they fart, their butthole whistles Dixie. That would be a great status update.

The tale of the turkey thief

Every year the Little Man's school sponsors a fun contest for Thanksgiving called, "Hide the turkey". The object is to disguise a picture of a turkey, thus "saving" it from being eaten as the main course on Thanksgiving.  You get to use whatever materials you want to hide your turkey's identity.

Two years ago we disguised  the turkey as a dog, using cotton balls that we colored brown to be his fur and we glued floppy ears, paws and a snout made from construction paper onto him. Lastly, we wrote "Woof" by his mouth. My son received third place for his entry. (Yay!) Last year we colored the turkey red and drew a large M on his body to make him look like an M & M. So far, all very cute. This year we went a different route.

The Little Man decided that he wanted to "save" the turkey by disguising him as a robber. We made a black mask out of construction paper that covered his eyes. My Husband cut out a Nerf gun from some store's flyer and we affixed that to the turkey's hand. Little Man colored the rest of him black because that's what robbers usually wear. We were all pretty proud of this family effort. He handed in his entry this past Tuesday. I'm hoping I don't get a call from the school saying our turkey is too violent.  Or, maybe they'll ask me to come in and show me his turkey with questionable looks.

School: (all concerned) We wanted you to see what your son did for the Hide the Turkey contest.
Me: Um, I know. His dad and I helped him.

I can imagine the rest of the meeting going downhill from there. Maybe we should have stuck to the original idea of a Ninja turkey holding a Hatori Hanzo sword? 

In my day...

Halloween is over. We took the little ninja out for tricks 'n treats. He had a lot of fun and so did me and the husband. It was nice to see so many other houses in the neighborhood decked out in creepywear. However, what's up with the attitude of some kids?

In my day it was customary to say "Trick or Treat" when one happened upon a house. Of course we did this with no shoes on, in the freezing snow, up hill.... But seriously. It's just three words. For free candy! I don't get that whole standing there holding your bag open thing while saying NOTHING.

Maybe I should just be grateful the kids uttered a "Thank you" when given the candy. But still. It's not like I want them to juggle chainsaws or pull a rabbit out of their butt. (If that's your thing then good on you but I don't wanna know).

And then there's that attempt to upgrade your candy. These kids come up and eyeball my candy bowl and instead of taking what I want to give them they ask for something better. "Do you have any Twix bars?"Or, "Can I have the Nestle bar instead?" Whatever happened to that old Kindergarten phrase that even my 8-year old understands: You get what you get and you don't get upset. Hey you punk ass who's barely dressed up and just has on a hockey mask (how unoriginal) or a little bit of scary makeup, be glad I'm not giving you a Charleston Chew I found buried somewhere in the back of my cabinet circa 1998. Better yet, be glad I don't toss a rock in your bag, Charlie Brown.

Some kids should just sit in the pumpkin patch and wait for the Great Pumpkin.

Vicious Malware almost ate my computer

Last night I was really tired and planned to go to bed early, or earlier than I normally do. However, I thought one stop over at Pinterest wouldn't be a big deal. So off I went looking and laughing and pinning when I came upon something I thought particularly witty and clever. I clicked to the linked site hoping for more witty and cleverness but instead a big scary Malware monster attacked my little 'puter.

Suddenly there were scary little pop-up windows declaring that my system had a "Delayed Write Failed Error 32". Another scary looking window said I needed to do a restore and a system scan and sacrifice a goat while burning a ritual candle in the name of the Computer Gods.

I immediately closed all the windows and they Kept Coming Back!!! I logged off. I re-booted. I watched my files just Poof! disappear. Then I did what any other normal person in such a situation would do. I panicked. Fingernails got chewed. Hair was pulled and also chewed. The husband was yelled at even though he was quietly minding his own business playing a game on X-box.

I ran my super-duper virus protection program in its limited capacity because I haven't yet updated it. Yet!  I will! I am! I also said a little prayer to God to please take a moment or two out of his busy schedule to save my computer and not have all my files be lost into the Great Unknown.

At this point it's almost 3 am and my perfect little plan of going to bed at a reasonable hour has been blown to bits. I decided to go to sleep and hope that maybe when I wake up this will all have been some ridiculous nightmare or maybe an episode of  Scare Tactics.

After a light, uneasy sleep of 4 hours I get up and get the Little Man off to school. And then I boot up my PC, fingers crossed the whole time. And....nothing. It wasn't a nightmare and Tracy Morgan didn't jump out of the closet to assure me that my husband set me up for a good fright.

I did some online research and after finding a free down-loadable scanner through Microsoft  that removes these pesky programs and finding out how to bring my file and folder babies out of "hiding" I am happy to report that all is well with my Dell laptop.

Lessons Learned:

Always update your virus protection software! (a little PSA from me to you)
Always backup your files! (another PSA)
Never click a link you are unsure of. (duh!)
Scare Tactics is funny.
Scary malware is not!
Go to bed when you plan to and get off the dang computer!

Hey! Come check out Lovelinks. Read some cool blogs, leave a comment or two or three and then come back Thursday and vote for your fave.  

He has a kid's room; I had a disaster area.

The little man has his own room at my parents' house for when he visits or sleeps over. There's a bed, nightstand and possibly a floor. It's hard to tell with all the action figures waging war in various ships and battlegrounds. Little green army guys are fighting alongside members of G.I. Joe. Transformers are joined in battle with Bakugan. There are tanks, boats, helicopters and other transports as well.

Anyway, some out of town relatives are coming to visit and will most likely be coming to see their new house. I suggested to little man that we "straighten out" his room to make it presentable for company. More than likely this will include me trying to figure out which faction goes into what tote box.

Me: Is this guy from G.I. Joe?
Little Man: No Mom, he belongs to Halo.

How silly of me to not know the difference. At least I can identify the Star Wars characters. Yay!

I told my mom of our intention to clean up his room and she replied in true grandmother-type fashion.

My mom: Oh that's not necessary. It's a child's room. It's supposed to have toys all over.

I stared blankly, blinked a couple times, and did a cartoon-like head shake. Did I hear correctly? Where was this woman when I was eight-years old? My room was called a disaster area if I had toys all over. And I HAD to clean it up. So. Not. Fair.

I'm still going to make little man make his room look presentable, if only to just get under his and mom's skins a little. Hey, if I had to do it, so does he! So there!