Twilight’s Hangover
I would love to say that Twilight has been a fantastic book experience, but instead I’m sitting here exhausted and spent and STILL not done with the entire saga. It’s the most immersing annoying book and I already have problems staying attached to reality. I have found myself thinking thoughts in the style of Bella’s dialogue. Seriously…it’s pathetic.
One more book. Just the last one. sigh. And then I can be done. I can’t leave it undone, because it will torture me, but I have to pay attention to life at some point.
So here I go to the bookstore to buy the final installment after 3 hours of very restless sleep full of vampires and werewolves. ugh.
Trix are for Kids
At my weekly coffee date with the girls I was searching for a pen in my purse when I discovered something much more disturbing, and yet apparently normal for a mother of small children. French fries. Inside. My purse.
BLEGH!
I have never had a purse get this dirty, or if I have (because I am a highly unorganized and cluttered person) I don’t remember (which is also because I’m almost as forgetful as unorganized). I got a look of understanding from some of the ladies and a “I bet I have some of those in mine too” from others.
So this morning I did what any normal messy person would do; I emptied the contents onto the kitchen table, then turned it upside down over the sink and using the sprayer, hosed down the inside. Obviously this isn’t a Coach Bag, but a very rugged REI, rubber on the inside, type of bag. Cute but utilitarian (much like this author).
After hosing, drying and reorganizing (which is the short clean way of saying I dumped the french fries and other oddities) I found a little bottle of essential oils that my mom had given me forever ago. It’s a group of scents that is supposed to give you a sense of Joy. I took a big whiff and started giggling (obviously it’s doing what it’s supposed to) because it smells exactly like Trix.
Which makes me think of my childhood best friend and our favorite joke.
There once was an island called Trid. The people on the island were called Trids (duh). There was a huge mountain that divided the island in two and on each side was a different economic demographic (I obviously did not use that term in 6th grade). A Rabbi came to give humanitarian aid to the poorer side of the island and upon his first visit to the other side he learned how unique their method of travel was.
At the top of the mountain was a monster and as a Trid of Socially higher class and economic status would reach the top the monster would kick them down the opposite side of the mountain. Then at the end of the day he would repeat the kicking, only in the direction of the richer side. With the exception of the Rabbi, whom the monster would repeatedly pass up.
So one day the Rabbi finally got up the nerve to approach the monster and ask him exactly why it was he did not kick the Rabbi down the mountain. And the monster replied, “Silly Rabbi. Kicks are for Trids.”
HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!! God I love that joke.
Frozen boogies
Did you know that you’re boogers freeze when it gets below zero. Mine do. Mine are rock hard just sitting here thinking about how cold it is outside right now. It was -17 according to the thermometer on the truck this morning and we just saw reports of temperatures all the way down to -45 in town.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I think I’m supposed to exercise, take my Vitamin D and drink lots of water, but all I want to do is eat chocolate and bread. Sweet bread. Sweet delicious sugary bread that the baking witch from Hubby’s work gave him. Not just one little loaf, but 6!
What was she thinking? Did we seriously need this much padding? Did she know that I had just bought a planner specifically for the purpose of journaling my food and exercise and that I would have to write “Chocolate Chocolate Chip Bread 2 slices” and “Banana Macadamia Nut Bread 3 slices”.
What really really is weighing on me, besides this horrid headache I seemed to have picked up from Hubby is that I have to drive 80 miles out of town to a farm in two days with both of the children and I betcha it’ll be -40 when I go.
yay.
Redundancy
I might have to start a run on titles starting with “R” and see how far I can go. This is fun. For a nerd like me.
I’ve waxed rhapsodic about mrtl before. Ridiculously so, but I just had to share the collection of gems I have acquired over the past year and a half of friendship. It takes some people decades to accumulate such art but I think I just have the ability to see a good mug and take advantage of it.
So here it is. My exploitation of The Many Faces of Mrtl. (Chronological of course) (What do you think I am, unorganized? bah)
Even Breast Cancer Awareness Witches need to do something with their hair.
Some girls just can’t hold their liquor.
And some other girls like to bite the heads off of teddy bears in public places.
Obviously I’m hoping her boob falls out at that magic moment, but alas it just ends up being a cute shot of her royal cuteness.
What is she? The tongue cleaning pirate?
I think Adam Levine appreciated her divided attention while singing of dirty things on stage.
Isn’t there some cliche out there about having talent in the tip of your nose?
Happy New Year Girlfriend!
Rejuvenation
Can you say that word? I can’t…it’s too long. But I can almost type it, with the help of spell check. The point being that today I’ve cried like 8 times. Thanks to stupid people and probably PMS. At least that’s what I tell Hubby. Then just cause I didn’t feel like I had cried enough, I watched the last 15 minutes of Becoming Jane for the 8,793rd time and bawled my eyes out again. Don’t tell Hubby, he’ll razz me for a week or life. Depends on if I have anything else he can make fun of on a daily basis. Maybe he won’t.
So since I’ve cried it out and gotten over (temporarily I’m sure) whatever pissiness I was experiencing I want to talk about the Queefe. Otherwise known as the vaginal fart. I’m not sure why people don’t talk about this more. I see way weirder things discussed on a daily a basis. What’s so wrong with talking about toots coming out of your cooter?
One of my dearest friends from college was not familiar with the female species and therefore determined that the sound of a queefe must be the same sound that a york peppermint patty produces when broken open close to your ear. Now, I couldn’t argue with him because at the time I was peeing my pants with immature laughter but also because I had not yet had the joy of experiencing them for myself.
What I find so infuriating about this topic is yoga or pilates class. How is it that in a room of 30 women, most of which are over the age of 40 and who have probably had children, I’m the only one rippin’ em while coming out of down facing dog? Why isn’t the old lady next to me flapping in the wind?
The worst is when I’m in pilates doing scissor kicks with my hips up off of the mat. If you’ve never done these and you may suspect you could suck in some air, then I suggest avoiding this move at all costs. It’s frightening and may give the people around you the wrong idea. They may start making diet altering suggestions.
I know this very lovely girl who I am very fond of that had a sneezing problem. She would sneeze and fart at the same time, which was horribly embarrassing and yet we all thought it was the rip roarin’ funniest thing in the world. I’m pretty sure now that it wasn’t a fart! So now I know two people. Two whole people. WTF? I know that I can google “vaginal fart” and find pages upon pages upon pages with not one solution to this predicament.
The only suggestion that might be viable (and I have yet to test the theory) is to use a tampon during class. Then there were the people that freaked that if you used a tampon for a 60 minutes class you were just asking for TSS. I think it might be worth to risk to try it. Just remember to get your KY out before you try it. OUCH!
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So as I was adding links I found the most AWESOME video. And it isn’t helpful in the least.
Panasonic Trickery
We blessed ourselves with a brand spankin’ new fancy dancy TV this fall and have been chained to it ever since. But about three weeks ago I started having the strangest issue with the remote. Every morning, right when I was sitting down to watch a little Regis and Kelly and eat my toast the remote wouldn’t work. It would not work for about an hour, the miraculously start working again.
We started timing when we could start using it again. I would chat with Hubby, who was at work, “It’s back on and it’s 9:34!”. We did this every day for a week. Then we conveniently forgot about it.
We attempted battery changes, unplugging the tv, changing weird settings that we never knew existed, and hitting every button available in every single sequence to see if it would magically return to power. It didn’t.
Finally we broke down and called Panasonic this morning to wait on hold and see what the situation might be. We held for about 10 minutes before a nice girl named Shakira picked up and started her standard round of questioning. Somewhere along the way she asked if we had fluorescent lighting near the tv.
What a strange question, I thought. I answered her that we did not, but that we did have a SAD UV light…which…it just so happens…I turn on every single morning when I sit down to watch Regis and eat my toast.
Case dismissed.
Craigslist Christmas
I admit I enjoy shiny new things, but a four year old and her little brother have no clue whether or not a toy has worn out it’s welcome at someone else’s house. They just know it’s new to them, which is why we opted to find our kid’s favorite toys on Craigslist.
I am swimming in STUFF. It’s everywhere. I had no idea we had accumulated this much from just a few craigslist purchases. For instance, Junior loves Cars the movie so we started doing regular searches for Cars merchandise. We found a few posts that seemed to be from the same seller, so I contacted the seller and bought everything she had for $40 dollars. I just spent half an hour trying to find a box big enough to put it all in.
Then there was the Toy Stoy haul. $10 for a Toy Story insulated lunch bag full of critters (little plastic figurines), a padded Woody and Jessy doll and a Buzz Lightyear ship. Oh yeah, and the digital camera that sells for $50 on Amazon for $25. SWEET!
I also am thanking the gods for the friend that sold us a Thomas train table and collection of tracks for a ridiculously low price. We will be thanking them more monetarily after seeing just how much it really costs at the store. There will also probably be dinner and *cough* “favors” involved. That’s how much money we saved. (As IF we ever would have had enough money to buy what they had brand new!)
So now that I’ve wrapped (excuse me, Santa has wrapped) almost all of the presents I’m really interested to break down just how much we’ve spent. Because although I planned on budgeting precisely I am completely oblivious. I think I stayed within budget, which only confirms that I wasn’t.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a restful night!
Batter went wrong
I mentioned recently how great the Orange Cranberry Chocolate Chip cookies were that Erincooks put on her site, although I haven’t mentioned the 10+ lbs I’ve packed on from nibbling on them these past two weeks. Let’s keep it that way.
I decided to make these to give away to friends and family this season, so yesterday I started the process of making a double batch. I mixed the dry ingredients, set them aside (after using the very very last of my flour) then started on the wet mix. I had just enough butter, sugar and eggs to start the batter and was very proud of my speed and efficiency.
I may have gotten a little too big of a head though because as I was breaking the second egg over the kitchenaid mixer (which is a wicked cookie making machine) I dropped half of the shell into the bowl. I could hear the crunch crunching of the shell as the paddle went round and round, but I couldn’t react fast enough to save it. I reached for the lever to turn it off and just released the tilt mechanism twice before I realized where the “off” switch was.
I was so mad that I just walked away, packed the kids up and headed to the store. WTF was I thinking? It was insane out! Anway…this is what I found when I came back.
Hope your cookie baking goes as planned without any egg-haps.
Long Hard and Cold
Winters in Alaska are tough. They’re long and dark. And the cold that can accompany seems to get harder to handle every year. I feel like my feet are ice blocks before we even hit freezing. Even in my own house, when the thermostat says 70 I feel like it’s 33.
And even though my amazing spectacular hubby stopped me from going to college when I broke down sobbing because of it(it’s a long story that involves tuition waivers, deferred student loans and a drive to be more than just a “Mommy” ugh), I still think there’s something deeper going on.
It could be the dark. Although the dark has never affected me this badly before. And it could be the stress, although I don’t feel that I have anything to really be stressed about. It also could be the um…well…the uuuhhhh…shoot. I have no idea.
I’m counteracting it with gym time with a girlfriend, taking my Vitamin D, and having a fun fruity drink every now and again (ok…maybe a little bitty bit more than that).
Oh and I’m playing with fiber like MAD. I love my spinning wheel. I just want to pet pretty wads of wool all day long. White wool. Black merino wool. Handpainted silk blend wool. Oh how do I love thee, let me pet the ways…
sorry…I got distracted. It was either the wool or the screwdriver. You decide.
