Softner

Super excited to see my favorite brand of washing detergent in the small bottle.  In my world that meant it now has the option of HE.  I am supposed to use it in my washer, but come on, I like to try new smells and not all are available in HE.

Super excited me goes to do the laundry last night.  I mean who is not excited to do the washing? 

I pour the new “detergent” into the lid.  But, what is this? It is all creamy and liquid like.  I then hold the container up to read it.  No, I never read it at the store; I simply placed it in the cart.  

The NEW is not because it is HE, it is because it is softener.  Darn.  Oh well, I was doing towels anyway, so bleach and softener works out just the same.

The little voices all laugh at me in my head, and I must agree with them.  This is a funny thing.  I swear, one day I will learn to read before I purchase.

her shoes

OK so not only do those shoes exist, the ones in her head..found in the very last store...but have now been spotted in 2 other stores.  Both of these other stores where ones that had been outed from the shopping list, because they would not have them.  In fact they did and half the price! oh well.  Lesson learned here is the place I know they will not be is where they will be found.  I should know this already (multi-voices are screaming at me right now with all the basic same thought of DUH!!) because every time I lose something that place they can't or won't be is where it is. So, why not the "in her head only shoes"??? AH happy days :)

Just a so we all can rest, it must be said, the shoes where perfect and they made her smile and her date was only a touch shorter than her. Yea!

Spoiled Crabbies

I LOVE my Crabs. They are 2 Hermit Crabs, who have lived with me over a year now. I play with them every single day. They are Lenny Crabbits and Paula McCrabby. These are 2 very spoiled creatures. They go to the pool with me in their little carry cage. I take them out to sun tan. I take them to visit their Grandparents (AKA my folks) and they now have a giant aquarium to live in because I thought they needed room to play. Seems as they enjoy it. The 2 bury themselves every night only to make me “play” with them and stick them in the sand box I have in there.

As much as I love my crabs, they are not much for snuggling! Seriously. They won't cuddle well. They either a) hide in the shell or b) try to pinch my flesh off. Ask daughter, she has tried to cuddle them, they make a person BLEED!

I am sitting here looking at them as they are beginning the evening Marti Gras. They party all night like only a crab knows how. They climb all over each other & up the walls. They try to escape, because they know how fun it is to hide in the laundry room & bathroom for days on end. They go for dips in the crabby hot tub. They snack on cranberries and crab cookies. The 2 of them tunnel in the rocks and make awesome art designs in the sand.

The little scary, hairy legged monsters are looking back at me now. I believe they are using crab telepathy to tell me to order them coconut shreds and new driftwood climbing toys. One of my inner voices must be listening because my on-line shopping site is now being filled with pet supplies.

Wow, it is one thing knowing you have multiple voices in your head who can't get along. It is a totally different thing when the voices have the passwords and account numbers to shop! Sensible me voice is thinking that they are crabs and don't need toys. Extravagant me voice thinks they need more toys and even a cooler tank to live in, maybe one with different levels and lights, and heat lamps. PMS me voice is thinking about melted butter and sparkling wine will make those crabs taste real good and free up a little room in the on-line shopping cart for things like Midol and more wine. There are a few more thoughts of tossed around until the exercise nut in me calls for a ZUMBA break. Today that voice is the winner.

I will ZUMBA, then run. And yes, probably come back in and before I shower the critters will get the new coconut shreds and a climbing toy. Spoiled Crabbies!

Perfect Shoes

Shoes... Ok, once you have a perfect dress. You need perfect shoes.

Daughter and I find her perfect dress with hardly any challenge. This was a totally shocker due to last years dress shopping experience where I needed alcohol and seafood after that day! Last year was 8 hellish hours, tears, cussing and my breaking out the IDC how much it cost line just to get ANY dress bought.

This year, I was re-paid with good fortune; one store, only one she wanted, and off to the cash register we went.

Now, we look for shoes a month later. There are no shoes. Period. No shoes she wants, because like her mother she has the little voices in her head! The little voices tell her only this style and color will do. I ask her, did you see these in a store, on line in, in a magazine? Her reply is not shocking to me, for I know this line of thinking well. “No Mommi, I just know this is what will look best, I thought it up in my head.”

Yup, this shoes mission was set forth in her brain from her Command Central and now I although I did not choose the mission, will carry it out!

An entire day of shopping with a teen is fun and tiring. We did not find the shoes, we found these super cute socks (3 pair in fact), a great outfit for school pictures, returned a coat, paid a bill, were saddened because warranties are not all they are cracked up to be, got that outfit I had been looking at all summer, ate the most wonderful meal, chatted with friends, took pictures of cars we will never be able to afford, stared inside the car we will most likely buy next, bought all sorts of candies at this wonderful market, got a bottle of wine (I know I will need it later), tried on roughly 50 pairs of sunglasses...But no purchase of the shoes. BECAUSE THEY DO NOT EXIST.

On the drive home she explains we will not stop the mission, she breaks it down: I go grocery shop in the morning, she will sleep in, I will make breakfast, she will eat, then we will shop.. I sigh, tap out & drink the wine. I will comply to the demands of the teen daughter. The voices in my head understand the need to be proven wrong before they retreat. I will act as a willing participant, knowing I am secretly on my own covert mission to find a real pair of shoes that do in fact exist and will work with that dress of hers!

Day 2 goes as planned.  As we enter the 10th store, I have the back-up pair found and have prepared her mentally for the non-existing shoe sadness.. We have found the shoe in red, pink, white, gold, silver, sizes up to a 4 (we need it in a 9), and I have her sold on this is the last store then we tap out, get the back-ups.  But what upon my weary eyes do I see, this virtual blinking neon sign is in the store. It is above the only black glitter coated shoe in a size 9 in our great state!

Unfortunately for me, I have praised the back-up pair so much there is now question on if these are in fact the shoe. Many text pix of the shoes to all her buddies, comparing the back-up to the perfect one, trying on a few no-ways, the black glitter ones are purchased! Yea us!!! We are free to eat pretzel bites and sip pink lemonade with happy thoughts and no dismay!  Until she realizes she need accessories....

Dress Shopping

I love to shop! When its for the perfect dress, it is an entirely different experience. Its like a command from Central Office in my mind. I hear the Commander in Chief voice declare, “This is what is wanted. The mission, should you choose to take it, is hunt until found, this exact dress! Good luck, and God Speed.”

And so went the mission for finding my perfect Grecian style dress.

I chose to take my mission on line. I enlist the help of fellow comrades who know how dire my mission is. We make game plans, we make check points, we use technical shopping methods of specific search engines, price ranges, discounts, mailing options.. TADA! Dress found.

This dress is perfect. It met all criteria. It was the perfect color, in the price range, the mailing options where desirable and it was exactly the vision placed by the leader of the multitude of voices in my head.

Then the unthinkable, as I raised the victory flag of dress shopping, this horrid pop-up said on back order. Back order??? What, it said in stock. No this cannot be. Check the account they took the money already, there has to be a mistake. No, no mistake. I have a new email, dress is on back order. If I would like to order it in 2 or 3 sizes smaller it will be available.

The voice with perpetual PMS went off the deep end! Emails to the company, emails to my enlisted shopping helpers, text to my people who where not even on the mission. Yes, the mission was now being undertaken by a very angry person. All others have been dismissed from further action.

The money was returned, even offered a discount for next order placed through them – which will never happen because of the prior trauma they caused.

The solo mission proved to be very interesting. 1 pot of Coffee, a bottle of Margarita Premix 80proof, followed by a 2^nd pot of coffee and eureka! Dress is re-found. In this solo plight there were a few not so brilliant searches. The Halloween Adult costume search, while fun stuff to look at, definitely was not the mission. There where also a few sites where my checkbook would have ignited in flames if used due to the outlandish prices.

Non the less, 2 glorious weeks later that wonderful diesel sound can be heard in my driveway. The head to toe brown uniformed man with that equally brown truck is here to save the day. I paused to wonder, does he know how many times he is viewed as a Super Hero? Because at this point in time there is no question how valuable he was to my mission.

After tearing out apart the packaging like a small child on Christmas morning, I dance around like a fairy, spinning and smiling. I to dash back into the house to show the goods to Command Central. I jump out of my running clothes, slide into the satin and tulle, and stare into the mirror. YES! It is a score, mission Perfect Grecian Dress is COMPLETE!

Buttered Popcorn

Popcorn is one of my all time favorite naughty treats.  The more butter the better, and I like it with salt or sugar. I like it steamy fresh or cold.  These little nuggets of pure happiness are partially to blame for why I will continue to exercise my @$$ off.  Mini bites of buttery Heaven.  The exercise must be done because I don’t want to be the size of a barn! A small outbuilding, perhaps, but not a barn.  Side note: Another positive of exercise I have found, I can get in touch with my inner person, or at the bare minimum, hold a board style meeting with all the little voices. 

Also please note, eating popcorn while running is counterproductive, but fun.. Yup I have done this, and wish I had a camera to freeze forever the odd looks people freely gave me for doing something out of the norm.

But this little ditty is so not about my love of popcorn.  It is about a very close friend of mine.  Her nickname is Butter.  Yes, it is due in part to her excessive love of buttered popcorn.  More specifically her love of the micro-waved bag kind of popcorn.

Where I am employed they sell popcorn to raise money to throw small positive energy boosting parties.  My co-workers all love it and it is a good way to escape the daily humdrum.  My office is beside the other person of equal status.  I was trying to communicate to her some vital information and she was simply replying with mmmhmmm, uh-uh, hmmmmm, and uhu…To say the least I was very annoyed.  My back had been to her the entire time.  I had been searching a cupboard in our hallway for a specific document.   It is then I exasperatedly turn around to give her tongue lashing on her oh so not helpful input.  

The site I encounter is one burned into my mind for all time.  All I can do is laugh.  I am laughing so hard now no sound is coming out of me.  The co-worker was speaking to me in the language of popcorn-bag-butter-licking!  Her face was in a bag, all that was exposed was her eyeballs, which looked like a frightened raccoon.  This woman had the paper bag torn down the seam licking every last once of butter and salt off it.  I had never in my life seen such a thing, let alone a co-worker, a grown woman at work!!!

She was frozen, wide eyed and unable to explain herself. She stuttered a few words about she didn’t think I would actually enter her office, and please don’t say anything.  But, this was too good.  I had to share with the others.  And I did, and I officiated her re-naming to Butter.  

I think the more amusing thing was when I told my young nephew why we call her Butter.  He smiled and said “Well she should have ripped it up in smaller pieces so she got every little part.  That’s what I do!”  He then very seriously instructed me to make sure I told her not to lick the bag I was taking home to give her the next day, for it is coming from the fair and she did not want those extra flavors! HAHAHA

Soccer Fans

Soccer Parents in my Home Town..An interesting group to say the least..   Note, I am one of these creatures. 

First let it be known I do not like sports as a general rule. Well, unless you are going to count shopping online or in human form at a plaza, or if you count coupon clipping or if by chance my work outs and running because I refuse to eat healthy count as sports, I am not a fan.   This is due mostly because of “FANS”. 

I sit in the bleachers thinking in my head about chores, social activities, how my beloved is playing a video game while my butt is falling asleep & the bones are being pierced by aluminum, wondering is it really this hot out or is my blood pressure elevated?  I am not going to utter these thoughts while at the game.  I am going to cheer and smile and clap.  

Why, well because I am a fan of MY KID and MY KIDS TEAM..  ALL of my kid’s team!  I mean all of them, including the ones who dance with the ball, the ones who go way outside the ideal goal keeper areas, the one who can’t seem to focus, the one who is too slow and must surely eat poorly, the one who is fat, the one who is definitely better than the others and has ambition, the one who is only out there because the coach and her family go to the same church, the one who is only on the team because of pity. 

Yup, you guessed it—the reason I hate sports is sitting directly beside me.  All of these remarks where uttered at an extreme volume by some non-supportive parents.  I would have moved but it was like a territory thing, The Clan had sat there 1^st.  (My family is referred to as a The Clan because we do everything as a group)

These horrid people are why I don’t like sport events.  I did not pay to listen to you BITCH and MOAN!! I paid to support my kid and her school and her team.  I want to scream to zip it up, coach your own team, ask questions like, why are you so miserable, is there an issue at home, do you hate our school, and do you need higher authority to guild you in life??? But, I don’t.  My daughter will die of embarrassment, and my mother raised me better...Or so the voices in my head are saying.

It got awful, and I finally I took a stand.  My head was pounding from the blood surging in my veins.  I had rubbed a hole in my frayed jeans because I wanted to choke a human, simply to make that mouth stop.  I could not believe these people, one mother in particular, where calling themselves fans.  You cannot tell me that many negative comments are meant to support your team!!!! There is no way this negative attitude is a reflection of I LOVE SOCCER! GO TEAM!  SOCCER MOMS UNITE! So I stand up, shout for the girls to Go Team, we love you! Positive love & reinforcement from your Supporters!!!  

Ahh, I made my point.  The worst offender weakly apologizes and states she was rude and is sorry.. Yea, she is Sorry…I shake my head and say so..  Now I have an answer I can say with conviction when people exclaim, What, you Hate sports?!  I will say yes, because of “FANS”, especially the SORRY ones.  

Potty Paper ALERT

The funny post on potty paper which had me in stitches has become even more amusing! Both teens are now hollaring from diff toilets at the same time about this stupid toilet paper...

The boy is hostile because the cloud like paper evaperates when wiping the exit only region.

The girl is screaching back that if he knew how to use toilet paper then there would not be an issue..

This lead to the Momma.....What do you think???  My answer is easy, Son, use 3 squares, Daughter, how do you know he doesn't wipe right?

Son replies the daughter and I have much smaller hinies and can use 3 squares, he is using no less than 6. Daughter says well I am going for he doesn't know how to wipe because he is whining and smells bad! Son replies with more insults this went on for a VERY long time...

My Mommi Mode kicks in and resolves it with an end it now result. I purchase wet wipes for the potties and tell them both to use 3 squares and if either would like to assisted in hind end wiping let me know, I believe both are scared to death now because they wispered to each other and have not called me in to investigate wiping issues or do a square count - THANK THE STARS!

i heart straws

I <3 Straws! Straws, not to be confused with straw; the yellow, dry, dust mite infested, dead plant material. Straws... They are a grand , multi-colored, smile inducing, pleasing invention!

I actually watched a program, yes admittance of wasting an entire hour of my life that will never be regained, on how they are made. Simply because they are so very loved by me! They come in so many colors and they bend, they are a way to over come many bad situations... Oh, and need I tell you, they are a great chewing toy for an adult?

I willing acknowledge I chew mine to smithereens..For 2 reasons. Reason 1 is when people see the gnawed plastic carcass hanging in a glass- they know without a question that is MY drink, not theirs. Reason 2 because it keeps me from uttering things I know I should not.

Folk close to me know that I can not drink without a straw. If a glass is involved I need one. Period. If I don't have one, I will seek one out and if not offered one, I will take the first unused one I can, even if it means swiping someone else's before they had a chance to put their lips on it :) I do keep a stash in the SUV though, for dire moments.

It is basically a known fact that if it has a straw in a glass, it is mine and it has a 98% chance of being alcohol laced. I have so much confidence in the people I surround myself with, I freely leave my beverage unsupervised because everyone knows to A) watch their own kid cuz I ain't and B) if it is not in my hand & left it unsupervised there is a greater issue in need of my attention & this glass is most certainly filled with tequila, vodka, or spiced rum to calm me when I return for it. The adult consumables are listed in no particular order here, I might add.

Back to straws..They are a perfect way to make sure your beverage is drinkable with out fear of brain freeze or molten lava temperature destroying your taste buds. The straw is like a little beacon that alerts you when the liquid hits the lip area to STOP drinking if the temp is not a glorious tepid warm or the slightly chilled sort.

Straws also make drinking a beverage you think has the flavor similar to what you can only imagine cats hind end would taste like a do-able deed! Serious here, I have had to choke down a drink or 2 that tasted like this..Unfortunately, I made a very unkind remark very similar to this, to a beaming and proud inventor of the “drink special” once. Yes, I am now fully aware you are not to tell another human that the “special” tastes like; another not so nice word for DONKEY.

Here is a Hint to save face in relationships-use a STRAW. For there was no straw in the @$$ flavored drink, if there had been I might, and I only think this because of my deep love of straws think this, might have been able to drink it & not embarrassed my then-boyfriend with my observation!

On that note, I shall drink my slightly too strong, but wonderful drink through a straw. It is very strong indeed, but the beautiful, bright straw somehow manages to calm it down.  There is just some kind of magic that flexed plastic creates..They never did explain the smile educing magic part in the How a Straw is made clip, but it does not matter, the magic is there and saves me DAILY!!!!