A Few of My Favorite Things.

Okay really only one thing.

Fried rice!!!

At this point I'm sure you are scratching your head and thinking I was going to talk about Christmas stuff. You know, egg nog, carols, teapots, whiskers on kittens (that's what Julie Andrews was really talking about). By now you should know that nothing here leads where you think it's going to.

What's with the creepy matching outfits?

I love the South. I might have mentioned this once or twice.

It's not perfect though. There are some things lacking here that I might have taken for granted while I was living in NJ. I was just about to list a bunch of cultural stuff but lets be honest, who cares about any of that?

Food. I miss the food.

So lets go back to the beginning of this confusing story.

At thanksgiving the preschool where I work had a breakfast, each classroom was responsible for a portion of the aforementioned breakfast. My kids had to bring breakfast meat. Suggestions included, sausage, bacon, liver mush(if you don't know what this is it's apparently because you don't live in NC). I tried to steer everyone towards bacon. Sadly there weren't all hearing my subtle pushing.

Everything is better with bacon and funnier with googly eyes.

One of the wonderful parents asked if it was okay to bring fried rice. She is not from here (by here I mean the US.) originally and fried rice is something she regularly enjoys for breakfast. I encouraged her. It would be nice to have something slightly non traditional and it wasn't like she was bringing monkey brains of fried snails.

You know this is what you were all thinking.

The breakfast went great and everyone enjoyed the ridiculous amount of food.



If you're still reading. Good for you. I'm about to tie all this together.

The rice was awesome. I got seconds. I raved and raved and raved to her the week after the breakfast. It was better than any rice I had eaten since we moved south. Seriously, this lady could have a restaurant with just that rice and I would be there at least once a week.

He English is good but it isn't perfect, and she's very soft spoken so I wondered if she understood just how sincere my love of her rice was until this week.

The little ones started bringing Christmas presents. Some gift cards, candles, lotions. The stuff you would usually expect until the Friday before break when this wonderful mom arrived with a tray of rice for me.

A WHOLE TRAY!

So yummy in my tummy.

I jumped up and down. I hugged her. I giggled like a school girl. (okay maybe that last one is a bit of an exaggeration)

I went home and immediately had a bowl. It was just as good as I remembered it. Maybe a tiny bit better.

So in conclusion fried rice has been my favorite gift so far this Christmas season.

Anyone want to make me Moussaka?


PS I just realized I already have a post with a similar title. Do I secretly love Julie Andrews?

Who am I kidding? Of course I love her. Have you ever seen Victor Victoria?

Holiday Spirit

I have two unrelated stories today because I like to keep you guys guessing as to what will come next.

Story number 1:

Today was a busy day. There was a long list of stuff I was supposed to get done and it was going to be one thing after another. At some point I realized I was starving so I popped into Subway (so I get paid for product placement?) to grab a quick bite.

I was all set to get some chicken and veggie, healthy, Jarrod approved sandwich when the guy in front of me ordered three 6 inch meatball subs. As the subway lady put them together I was seduced by the red sauce. When it came time to order I got one.

Side note: No judging! I normally make my own sauce from scratch and never buy frozen meatballs. NEVER. But it looked so good and I was so hungry!

Anyway, I ordered the sandwich and moved down the counter towards the register. When the gentleman in front of me got there he paid for his and then added to cashier that he would pay for mine too.

It was such a nice surprise. I thanked him profusely and wandered out of Subway with just a tiny bit less cynicism in my heart.

In a "pay it forward" moment there was a salvation army bell ringer out front so I shoved the cash I had pulled out to pay for my sandwich into the kettle.

So thanks nice guy for giving me a dose of holiday cheer and thank you to my awesome obnoxious facebook friends that proceeded to belittle the gesture by implying I might have somehow traded or threatened the man into paying. I would expect nothing less from a group of degenerates.

Story number 2

Walking out of a large department store I held the door while an elderly couple came in. The following is their conversation.

Husband: Okay so I am heading to the boys department to get 3 collared shirts and two pairs of pants for Tom and Mike and you are going to the ladies department to get perfume and gloves for Jessica and Sarah.

Wife: I'll see you in an hour.

Then I watched the husband check his watch. I though for sure he was going to tell her to move out. Or take the beach. I wasn't surprised at all to see the Semper Fi hat perched on his head.

Once a marine always a marine. I guess that applies to Christmas shopping as well as warfare.

Triple S Would Make a Horrible Spy

Not because he has a bad poker face or because he can't be sneaky.

He has a great poker face and he can be very sneaky. This comes in handy because like a 6 year old I will search for my Christmas presents. It's not that I don't like surprises.

I do. I just have no self control. (I'll pause while you gasp dramatically.)

Triple S can't be a spy because he answers questions in his sleep.

Tug Timmy, Triple S's home away from home.

Scott works on a tugboat. He works a 2 and 2 schedule. For you non boat people that means he works for 2 weeks on the boat (yes, he even sleeps there), then he is home for 2 weeks. That is 2 whole weeks where he has nothing to do. Well nothing except my honey do list. It usually isn't that long since I'm handy.

You would think this would mean I would make him do all kinds of stuff so I could take a break but because I am so freaking awesome I don't do that. Also it's just easier to do most things myself. (And it's possible that I'm a eansy weensie, tiny bit of a control freak.)

To say Triple S isn't a morning person is what some might call an understatement. I would rather try and put mittens on honey badgers than have to wake him up before 10. 

Why so angry cutie pie?

This means our routine doesn't change even when he is home. I still get up and get the kids ready for school.

You know dressed, breakfast, teeth brushed. All the regular stuff.

(Crazy people put their pants on one leg at a time just like the "normals")

Along with this we also take our neighbors son with us. He's a good kid and it's not like I'm not already going there.

The poor guy has been sick, some horrible stomach bug that is plaguing our school.

So instead of waiting for a knock at our door I left for school with just my two monsters.

When I got home I walked into my bedroom and curled up next to my hubby to snuggle. Okay it was really to steal his warmth. The man is a human furnace and since the car doesn't even have time to warm up before I am already back home I was freezing.

What? I love him for more than just his body heat. Stop judging me!

Now comes the part where I point out that he isn't spy material.

3S- Luke knocked at the door, why did you leave without him?

Me- His mom texted me he wasn't going to school again. Did you answer the door?

3S- No.

Me- Then how do you know it was them?

3S- Who else would be knocking on the door this early? (this was sound logic so I stopped questioning him)


Two hours later when the bear emerged from the cave I asked him if Luke had come by again while I was out.

3S- Why would Luke come by?

Me- You said he knocked on the door this morning.

3S- When did I say this?

He forgot all of it. The entire conversation. I'm not even sure if anyone actually knocked on the door.

Even after being reminded of the details he insisted that it never happened.

Needless to say I don't think this is a great quality for a spy. I didn't check with the CIA but I do watch Burn Notice and Covert Affairs.

My GIANT tree

This is not a complaint. (Triple S has pointed out that just by saying this I am already complaining.)

I wanted to start with that since this is going to sound a lot like a complaint.

My living room. It has a ridiculous double ceiling.

When the children are running around the echo is deafening. No amount of pictures or carpets seems to deaden the sound.I thought about pretending we live in a castle and cover the walls with tapestries but it turns out they aren't cheap. Or attractive. Or available at Target.

So for eleven months out of the year I'm not a fan of the ridiculous waste of space that is the double ceiling.

But it's not those eleven anymore. It's December!

The one month when I love the stupid thing.

Seriously joyful!

It's Christmas! And the number one thing that Christmas brings besides joy and children singing in harmony, and world peace, and wishes and family outings and .... Sorry I got sidetracked there for a moment.

TREES!

Colin and Natalie picking out the "biggest"

 

A GIANT 13 FOOT TREE.

Yeah I said 13. That's how big the monster fir in my living room measures.

Natalie on my shoulders next to the beast.

Large enough to ensure I will be able to continue my ornament addiction for years to come.

So no complaining. At least not until January when everything is packed away and the echo returns.

All decked out with no where to go. It's so pretty!

I'm Thankful I'm Handy

Yeah it's two weeks after Thanksgiving but I'm going to post about things I'm thankful for anyway.

I'm thankful my pops, the big RECCO, fixed everything. We never called a plumber or an electrician unless they were related to us.

When I was little he had only blue collar jobs. He would come home covered in mud and blood, but even when he got himself a fancy office his hands still betrayed his handiness. Massive with thick callouses, they always had a few cuts because although dad was handy he was also impatient. He would jam that giant mitt into the tiniest places because it would take longer to get the extension for the wrench.

 

He once sawed a socket wrench in half because it wouldn't fit in between my engine block and the radiator. Of course he couldn't be bothered to file the edge so the radiator fluid and his blood mixed into a horribly macabre Christmas decoration all over the driveway.

Not that he noticed. We always needed to point out to him when he was bleeding.

One of many things I get from him is this same lack of self preservation.

Sorry I got sidetracked.

When I came home yesterday I walked down to my mailbox and tried to get the mail out only for the box to fall off the post.

It appears that someone knocked the whole thing down. I'd love to accuse hooligans but I find it unlikely that after knocking it down they suddenly had a crisis of conscience and tried to fix the thing.

"Stop, I just can't live with myself. What did that mailbox ever do to me? I think I'm just trying to compensate because my dad never told me he was proud of me."

That is my third choice drill, the only one that was charged.

First I cursed loudly. (The kids were still in school so no judging.)

Then I marched back up the driveway with the mailbox tucked under my arm and got all the tools I would need to fix it.

I didn't grab a hammer and just try and bang it back on. I didn't call Triple S on the tugboat somewhere in the gulf.I didn't call my nice neighbor and ask for help.

I fixed the dam thing. 

So thanks Dad for being the crazy man who made me change my own oil in my first car. For making me learn to change the tires even though we had triple A. For teaching me how to use power tools and the importance of a fuse box and a thousand other things.

Good as new!

I walk with Danger!

This sounds like it's going to be be about a lifetime movie.

It's not.

It's going to be about situational awareness. Which now that I type it sounds really boring.

Trust me it's not boring.

It's awesome, like everything else on this blog. As awesome as New York City's Fourth of July Fireworks.

Crazy amazing!

Alright maybe I'm over hyping this?

I mean I don't want you getting all excited and then I just tell you some ridiculous story about socks or tire pressure. (those were both options BTW)

Lets start over.

This post is the perfect amount of awesome. Not too much and not too little. Are you ready now?

Last night I went to the gym for a late night class. When I walked inside my car was the last one in the farthest row in a crowded parking lot.

When class was over my little blue car sat all alone in a poorly lit corner. It was just like a scene in a movie. Where it suddenly feels like your car is a thousand miles away and there are wolves howling in the background and noises that you aren't sure are coming from in front of you or behind.

I wasn't paying attention but I'm still pretty sure that wasn't any dead bodies?

Wait, SHHHH, is that footsteps.

hahhahahah Just kidding. I'm not some normal girl.

I tucked my keys into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, texting a friend about a possible lunch date. I didn't look over my shoulder or pay attention to my surroundings. I didn't look for suspicious vehicles. I didn't keep my keys in my hand ready to use as a weapon.

I probably should do all those things. You should, for sure.

When I finally got to my car I pulled out my keys unlocked it and got behind the wheel. For the first time since I had walked out of the building I thought about all the horrible possibilities. Of all the BAD things that could have happened.

So this post is really a public service announcement for all you normals out there who can't call on your crazy strength. (think beer muscles). Be careful in parking lots. Walk in pairs. Be aware of your suroundings.

Or forget all that and live on the edge. It's cool and I highly recommend it.

This is NOT a Political Post

I repeat! NOT a political post.

My kids are awesome.

I might have mentioned this before, and yes I realize I am slightly biased but that doesn't change their aweseomness.

You might have noticed earlier this month it was election day. Between the robo calls, nasty commercials, debates, recap, speeches, fundraisers, stumping (still not sure what that means), baby kissing, finger pointing, pundit screaming.....

Sorry. I got caught up for a moment.

So unless you live in a bomb shelter or the dark ages (no I don't mean you NY and NJ) you know election day is a big day for politicians.

I won't tell you how I voted or why because this is NOT a political post. I might have mentioned that already. I will talk about my kids now.

Between my preschoolers on Monday and my daughters kindergarten class on Tuesday I got to hear some colorful descriptions of the two gentlemen running for the white house.

Side note: Please remember even when you think your kids aren't paying attention they hear everything you say. I'm not kidding. EVERYTHING!

Triple S and I try and keep our angry discourse down to a minimum around tiny ears. Not because we are awesome parents or because we are smart and all knowing. Although that would be great.

Nope. We don't talk politics because, although we usually agree on most subjects, my language can get pretty colorful. Think sailors or truck drivers. Sometimes I even use sci-fi bad words and combine others to increase their potency. It's a problem.

Side note: This is also the reason I don't watch reality TV. Too much yelling at the TV. Stupidity brings out some serious rage in me. Singing shows being the only exception.

This is Photoshopped so no reason to call PETA please.

Back on topic. My kids had no real preconceived notions about who would be a better choice for the job so among their deciding criteria were looks (they're kids, don't judge them), experience, mistakes, and pet choices.

Needless to say the two of them had some heated debates.


In the end there were siblings divided. Only one woke up happy the next day.

Well until I announced it was toaster strudel for breakfast. Then everyone was smiles again.

So here's hoping if you woke up unhappy because of the results that something as simple as a frozen breakfast treat can still make you smile.

Plus this is AMERICA. You don't see anybody trying to sneak into Russia do you? Well unless it's to rescue their kidnapped daughter /wife/ x CIA partner and we all know that unless you have a number of high caliber, fully automatic weapons that is a no fun trip.

You can seriously find anything on the Internet. It's AWESOME. (I love that word.)

Reading is Fundamental

I think at this point everyone is aware that I am a lunatic. Seriously. I've given you enough proof.

Here's the coolest part about being crazy though.

Other crazy people.

I know a lot, of varying degrees of course. (you can't have a bunch of tens. That never ends well.)

Back on point.

This is the picture one of those awesomely crazy people posted on Instagram (yeah I have one of those accounts too.) Found in a nice little antique shop. (The aforementioned friend, April, LOVES her some vintage. )

I feel like the baby can see my soul.

80 cents and this little gem could have been on her night stand. I have to admit that I'm just a little disappointed that she didn't get it. They call that buyer's remorse.

Seriously, what does this baby know? Is it some sort of demon baby? Does it involve Milk and BGH?

This book is deep. On one level it has a half naked man holding a tiny baby. Two things genetically designed to drawn women in.

So sure you grab it and you start checking it out. You can't deny a million years of evolution ladies!

Staring at the cover I started thinking up a whole backstory. Kind of like a superhero but for a creepy romance novels. I imagine it sat in those "leave a book, take a book" bins you find at post offices and nursing homes. The ones filled with the worst paperbacks ever published.

It's cursed. It has to be cursed and if you are unlucky enough to bring it home then you too, are cursed.

You wake up on the 4th day (yeah, that is random.) and suddenly your house is buried under primary colored toys and you can't remember the last time you showered. Your clothes all have some dark colored stain on them and you can't form sentences without adding extra syllables to all the nouns.

Where is the shirtless man? You may wonder. Keep on wondering. This book offers no answers, only questions.  Questions that will haunt you all of your days.

Okay maybe that's a bit extreme but I think we can all agree this book is weird.


Side note:
If you want this book you can get it used from $.01, new in 1999 it was only $4.25. I wonder if there is a Kindle version?  (I just checked. There is.)

Curiosity and the Internet is a BAD COMBO!

I won't go into too many details but the truth about "the baby" involves a Navy Seal named Quinn Keelor and a beautiful stranger (are there any other kind?)

I have a sickness. I'm going to bed now before I buy the kindle version. Darn you Evolution!!!



OMG I just remembered that another friend asked me to be in her book club. This is totally going to be my first pick.

One (more) Weird Thing About Me

Not sure what the total number of crazy traits I've revealed on this blog is but I'm adding one more.

Is this thing on?

I sing in the car. Actually I sing anywhere I am alone or just with my kids. I do so loudly and as often as I can. If I'm watching the Voice I get excited when I can sing along.

I could totally get at least one chair to turn.

Now none of this is really weird. Lots of people love Karaoke and even more sing in the shower. The weird part is that I think I'm good. Not Adele or Aretha Franklin good. I'm not delusional. (stop laughing)

I'm totally good enough to sing in some local cover band. Or at least that's the crazy story I tell myself in my head when I'm BELTING out tunes.

Old and new. Today's play list in the car included Nina Simone, Melody Gardot , Bruno Mars and Maroon 5. There was some other stuff mixed in but those are my favs. The ones I really go to town on.

So if you are on my street and the windows of my house are open, there is a good chance you will hear some singing. If you think I'm awesome feel free to say something. If you don't, you have nothing to fear because although I will fearlessly give a speech in front of a thousand people or hold a giant snake or ride some crazy twisting upside down roller coaster, I don't sing in front of people (that aren't related to me).

Wait that's not true.

Shhh. This part is shameful and you all must pinky swear before I reveal it. I can trust you guys right?

In 8th grade I sang in the talent show.

What? That's not so bad you say.

Agreed.

Here comes the bad part, and remember you are sworn to secrecy.

I sang Wind Beneath My Wings.

Better Midler. I sang Better Midler in a room filled with 13 year olds and their parents.

Let me clarify. I sat on a stool in the middle of the stage wearing some hippie, flowing skirt and sang with my eyes closed.

You might be thinking that everyone was cruel. That they mocked me and that is why I don't sing in public anymore but you would be wrong. They were kind and generous. They said nothing but nice things.

Who knows why I stopped what could have been a very mediocre rise to a first round elimination from American Idol. It's one of Life's great mysteries and I will leave you to ponder it.

Until the next time I get introspective and post more of my crazy.

I Could Take Him

A statement I make on a regular basis. Probably more than once a day depending on how many people I encounter.

Seriously. It's a problem. I look around a room sometimes and I think about who is the first person I need to eliminate if a giant bar fight breaks out.

This is of course a little ridiculous as I spend most of my time either at the Preschool where I work or my kid's school. It's unlikely a massive, no holds barred, ladder and chairs match is going to break out.

Doesn't mean I don't think about it.

At this point I'm sure you are questioning my sanity. First, stop judging! Second, pretty sure I told you I was crazy up front.

None of that is the point.

Today some guys from a local Karate School came in and gave a lecture about anti bullying. They did a pretty good job but that still isn't the point.

I count take them.

I could totally take them.

I mean I would have had to leap over a bunch of under fours but I could totally take them.




That's not too crazy right?

Sweet. Thanks you guys. I'm feeling more normal already.




PS I just re read this before I posted it. I do that because I am an awful speller and my typing isn't much better. Plus I can't pull my usual and blame it on auto correct.

Not the point. I seem to be easily distracted today.

This post reads like a "how to" essay on surviving prison.

I should sign off now. Maybe I should take a quick web MD quiz to check my sanity level?


PPS I made this today.



Stupid Hobby Lobby! Stupid Internet!

AWESOME DR WHO

Chili Cook Off (Take 2)

All of my faithful and fantastic followers know that for some bizarro reason I entered a chili cook off a few weeks ago.

Then there was thunder and lighting and buckets and buckets of rain and it was cancelled.

So I did it again. 10 plus gallons of chilli cooked and ready to hand out.

Raw ingredients. This is before I make the "magic" happen. Oh yeah and sing it with me. Goya oh Boya!

 The event was supposed to run from 4-8.

I ran out of Chili at 6.

Half way through, and I was out!

My only saving grace was that I wasn't the first. I cleaned up my table and started to wander only to realize about half of the 40 competitors were out as well. 

Lots of people and me doing my best ymcA impression.

10 gallons seemed like a ridiculous amount of chili and it was gone (two spoonfuls at a time) in 2 hours!

I didn't win. In case you were wondering. (I call Bravo Sierra)

The police did.

I wanted to make some comment about the judges not wanting to make the people with guns angry but then I remembered that this is the South and everyone carries a gun.

There was also a peoples choice winner. Based on ticket counts I came in about 5th there which is pretty freaking awesome considering how many people were there and I had never done anything like this before. (well unless you count the two weeks before when it was rained out but I'm not so you shouldn't either.)

So this is it. My new life's mission is to win! I'm going to buy a trailer and spend every weekend perfecting my recipe. I'm going to dedicate every free moment to finding the perfect chili pepper. Never mind. I'm going to have to grow it. Keep them close so I can ensure their perfection. 

Wait, would I have time for this blog?

On second thought I'll probably just try again next year.

Special thank to MIL (Mother in Law) for the apron. Got a lot of compliments on it and a few laughs when I flipped it over.  (it had topless firefighters on it, cause MIL is just a little bit crazy too.)

Natalie is AWESOME.

Sometimes my daughter is so awesome it hurts.

She doesn't want some borderline creepy costume for Halloween. No fishnets or glitter or pink hair.

None of that for my princess.

Are you afraid?

She wants to be a scary werewolf.

I hope she never wants to be like the other girls. Different is so much more interesting.



Oh yeah and she draws Daleks on our chalk board.

Exterminate!

PS

in case anyone is wondering if I play favorites Colin is also awesome. He actually chose to read a book this morning on the car ride to school instead of playing his DS. (If you don't know what that is I'm very very jealous.)

A book people! Now mind you it was called Captain Underpants but he was still reading it!

best kids EVER.

Mother Nature Hates Chili

I think it has something to do with Methane and Global Warming but I can't be sure.

I might have mentioned that since we moved down to the South I have a lot of free time.

Isn't this blog proof of that?

So along with other ridiculous things a few weeks ago I decided to enter a Chili Cook-off. Sure, why not?  That's what people with free time do with a Saturday.

So I bought everything I would need for my World Famous Autumn Vegetable Chili (that I only invented when I was at the grocery store shopping for the cook-off and now that I think about it the name is kind of misleading since it was actually a meat chili but it had vegetables in it.)

Perhaps I should re think the name?

Stay Focused!

This is what 10 gallons of chili looks like and yes I am a messy cook. Stop judging!

So I cooked. All day.

Then I went and borrowed a tent, a table and a pot. I set everything up in my designated location.

The Chili was hot. There were festive gourds and table clothes and I had been given my sign so everyone could vote for my chili.

Everything was perfect. Then I sent Triple S home for a few last minute items.

My first sign that things weren't going good was the sky. It started to get dark. Next came a text from the weather obsessed Triple S.

Triple S- Standby to get drenched. Not looking good from the west.

Me- So not cool.

Triple S- This would have been a good thing to do NEXT weekend (Sometimes he can be very obvious)

Me- No kidding (Sometimes so can I)

Triple S- You in your car?

Me- No holding the tent down. If I get struck by lightning I'm going to be p*ssed!

So you can imagine that if I need to hold the tent down that things have gone horribly wrong.  It is also at this point that I realize that Triple S is back but sitting nice and dry in his car.

So not cool.

Triple S- That was a close one (his comment about the lightning strike)

Me- I hate you

Triple S- I brought a towel?

So I stood there. Waiting for the thunder storm to pass. At first I tried to move everything to the middle of the tent to keep it dry but I quickly gave up with that foolishness. Instead I just stood there while the rain turned the ground into mud and destroyed the tents around me.

At one point it looked like it was a little people convention.

Tents lowered to keep the participants dry. It didn't work.

Finally as the storm clouds cleared the event organizer popped his head under my tent to let me know they had cancelled the cook off. I won't recount my conversation here but imagine it included lots and lots of sarcasm and you'll have the basic idea.

At this point I was feeling pretty crazy. Not to mention the mud. There was also some insane laughter involved.



It was over.

After cooking all day I had 10 gallons of Chili and no chance of winning.

The prize was $1000 and Colin had made me promise I would buy him a laptop if I had won. Poor kid was devastated. Not sure if he had faith in my cooking ability or is just delusional about how much of a chance I really had. Either way he was angrier than I was about the cancellation.

So yeah, Mother Nature hates Chili.



PS

I hand delivered the Chili to a number of people and brought some to work. I thought about saving it but that much chili in my freezer reminded me of crazy survivalists.

So here comes the question.

The rain date is this Saturday and of course Triple S headed back to work today.

Do I really want to do it all over again this weekend? Am I just that insane?


10/11/12 (so cool!)
UPDATE:
I'm in!
Please stop by.

http://thegreatchilicookoff.com/cooks.html

10/13/12
UPDATE 2:

I didn't win! Apparently the police did. Sounds like some of the judges might have had some tickets they were hoping to get taken care of.

I'll update with a more in depth post tomorrow but I didn't want anyone not being able to sleep without knowing.

Zumba (It's not just a late night infomercial)

Zumbathon!





This past Sunday was the Zumbathon.

Right now you might be thinking that I have mentioned that twice but still not explained it. To you I say two things. 1) thanks for reading this and 2) chill out. I'm getting to it.

Zumbathon (third time, please don't turn this into a drinking game) is the Fundariser Zumba runs for the Sunsan G Komen Foundation. A worthy cause. Breast cancer affects 1 in.........

Sorry this isn't that blog. We all know Cancer is BAD but if you need some uplifting story you are going to have to go elsewhere.

Here you get sarcasm and cynicism, probably some weird observations. Oh yeah and buckets and buckets of CRAZY.

So back to Sunday. On the infomercials everyone looks like they are having so much fun. Jumping and shaking their "money maker" (I'm sorry, I will never say that again). All wearing matching Zumba gear.

That's crazy.

Except that is pretty much how every class goes. Without the matching gear. That stuff isn't cheap!

3 hours is a lot longer than the 60 minutes we usually do. Like three times longer. (Math genius!) I was prepared though. I bought energy bars and jelly beans. Don't judge. They were energy jelly beans made by Jelly Belly and yes that is a real thing.

See, totally not made up.

Not to mention water. With the way I sweat it out I refilled my bottle 5 times. Crazy, and super gross. At the end my skin felt like I had spent the day at the beach, again gross.

I never said it was glamorous. I was jumping around for 3 hours!

This is the end of the day and be thankful this is from afar. And that you can't smell us.

The Zumbathon (I changed my mind about the drinking game but pace yourself! You're not in college anymore) was held at a gymnastic studio and the floor was all bouncy. I felt like Micheal Jordan! I had like a 7 foot vertical leap.

That's me on the far left. And yes I know I look awesome!

Okay maybe not 7 feet but it was 7 inches. At least. Seriously I was catching some air. For the first 20 minutes I was a crazy person and then I remembered I had committed to 3 hours! Bouncy floor or not I was going to need to pace myself. So I slowed down.

Me and some of the crazy ladies who thought 3 hours of Zumba was a good idea.

And thanks to the Jelly Belly jelly beans and the awesome music and instructors, I survived. I could barely lift my leg to get into the car but I did manage it. Sure I looked like a 90 year old lady with a bad hip but I was still moving. Of course when I got into the car I was terrified I wasn't going to be able to get out again once I got home. (In case you were worried I did manage to get out, it was slow but I did it without help.woo hoo!)

Monday I woke up and sat at the edge of the bed for ten minutes, afraid to try and stand. When I finally did convince myself I had no choice I was shocked to find I was fine. Seriously. Fine. It was crazy!

3 hours! and I was fine the next morning. Guess this working out thing is actually doing something.

Awesome.


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I just realized that in the beginning I said Zumba was like the infomercials but without all the matching then I posted pictures and we are all wearing the same thing. I think that's called irony. Or just my lack of attention to detail. Either way. The pink shirt was to raise more money for boob cancer. So I got one.

Stop judging. It was for a good cause.

And even though I didn't talk about the good work of the Susan G Komen foundation...

http://ww5.komen.org/donate/donate.html

http://www.zumba.com/partyinpink

Just in case.

Don't tell anyone I sent you. I don't need anyone knowing that I'm not an evil non feeling weirdo.

My D'Oh Moment

Yesterday morning started out like most days.

I got up. Got the kids ready and drove them to school.

Then since it was Thursday I headed over to the gym for Cardio Ballistic (not nearly as scary as it sounds).

After an hour and a half of sweating a few ladies and I headed over to Caribou Coffee to talk about dogs, daughters, no big whoop.

"I’m feeling a little vaklempt!"

Time passed pleasantly enough as we chatted about crazy families, road rage, kids and the theory of wave particle duality.  (we're smart ladies. It isn't always about shoes and purses.)

As the time came to leave we wandered over to our cars talking about one of the funniest books of all time. In my humble opinion.

As it happens I had gone to a reading and purchased a book for a friend. I even had it signed because I'm an awesome friend. Just, apparently not awesome enough to actually mail it to her.

 But I digress.

So as we were talking about Stanley the Magical Squirrel (seriously read the book.) I remembered the extra copy in my truck. I popped it open and pulled out my prize, sternly warning her not to let any harm come to the book so that I can mail it to my friend, cause I'm awesome like that.

The three of us stood there, the two of us who had read the book trying, and falling very short, to explain the hilarity found with in the pages when momentary distracted I closed the truck.

Crap! Crappy! Crap! Craptastic!(It's possible my language was a bit more colorful.)

In my hand was my wallet and my phone. Very glaringly missing though, was my keys.

You know. The pretty silver things that make the car go vroom vroom?

 Lets be honest. These are not my keys.

Mine have about 40 discount cards and a few home made trinkets attached.

bees and explosions

I got a phone call today. My peanut was stung by a bee while she was on the playground. It was my first phone call from the nurse. Obviously she is fine. Sadly she has been stung before so no swelling up or trips to the ER for her.

Why do we make cartoons out of things that want to hurt us?

She did tell me all about the sponge in a bag she used as an ice pack. It was yellow in case you were curious.

Now for the explosions.

On the way home today Colin proceeded to go through an entire one man show in the style of a Steven Seagal revenge flick. Imagine Hard to Kill.  That was before he got all patchouli smelling, planet saving preachy.

that is going to hurt in the morning.

There was a lot of "And then ____ was like..."

Some exciting car chases that involved lots of police and explosions.

There was even a twist where some one's wife was killed but it was just fake. She was actually okay but hiding. (who saw that coming?)

Admittedly the narrative needs a little work but it wasn't bad for a first draft. (Plus he's only 8)

About ten minutes in he asked if I was tired since apparently I hadn't been showing the proper level of excitement at his story. After that I gasped a few times and added a few "No way"s he seemed sufficiently humored.

When we got home he asked if we could make it into a movie. Since I don't know Micheal Bay or the people who write checks for him I suggested a book.

We compromised on a comic. I'll let you know when it's ready for publishing.

Привет.

Stop what you're doing!

9 people in Russia are reading my blog.

Okay you can go back to your lives now.

That's all I've got. Just thought is was cool that I've gone INTERNATIONAL!

It's totally got to be this guy or my stereotypical world view will be ruined

Stay close by though just in case people from Australia start reading. I'm saving this image for future need.

that's not a knife! (you know you just said it with the accent in your head.)