Happy Easter

From the three of us....

...to the rest of you.

And the Oscar Goes To...

Every year I want all the eggs to be solid colors. I want them to be beautiful in the basket. I want the colors to complement each other and the dining room.
Every year there are new 'experiments' with the eggs and their dyes. Every year their are 'magic' eggs with names, and rubber band eggs and striped eggs. Every year there is one egg that goes into all the colors various times. The result is the ugliest egg ever. We call it the Oscar egg. (I'm guessing after the Sesame street character--not because it will win any awards.) This year the Goob had to do the Oscar egg in the absence of his sisters. If you think about it too hard it is a very sad and lonely thing--to do the Oscar egg by default.
If you think just a little harder, it is a very joyful thing to be part of a family with love and traditions to pass on and hang on to.
That's how hard I'm thinking tonight, but I still miss my girls.

Did God Really Say...

I love art class pottery. When I used to go to the elementary school art shows, I couldn't wait until my kids were old enough to do the clay projects. The girls each brought home several wonderful pieces. When I moved across the country, I loaded one representative piece of each of theirs on the truck. Sadly, a few had to be left behind. (Impulsively, I hid one fine piece in the ivy on West Ave. to be discovered by a future adventurer. I can only hope they recognize a treasure when they find one. )
Yesterday, the Goober arrived home from school with a surprise for me in his packback. A one of a kind, hand crafted bowl. With a little green trim.

Carefully glazed so that I can use it for serving food.

There is a difference between girl pottery and boy pottery. Girl pottery is used for candy dishes or candle holders. It has butterflies cut into the design. Boy pottery is more robust. It is painted black. It has serpents in the design.

This is from the Goober's Garden of Eden collection. We call it, "Did God Really Sssssay...?"

We Just Stay at Home, and Lie Around...

So the Captain who is being held hostage by pirates off the coast of Africa looks a lot like the STP.

Just in case you've seen the story and were wondering if the STP was being held captive by pirates off the coast of Africa, fear not. He is safely at home. Firmly planted in front of the HDTV bonding with his son over Clone War reruns. Although he does have an increased interest in the Somalian pirates, I'm pretty sure that I never will look good in leggings.

Aye, aye, Cap'n Crunch.

Itty Bitty Healthcare Facility

I worked full time the past two weeeks at the IBHF. Just covering for a vacation. (Next week I go back to the bank. Part time.) The IBHF is attached to a nursing home facility. Because it was the first of the month, I got to do blood draws in the nursing home. Met some very dear old people and some very sick old people and some very grumpy old people. I hope when I am a very old person that I am a very dear one. (Or at least that some of my 'cuteness' remains.)

The Dear response:
Ms. Brenda, I'm here to get some blood from your arm.
Alright, deary, which arm do you want?

The Sick response:
Ms. Brenda, I'm here to get some blood from your arm.
Ms. Brenda? Ms. Brenda?

The Grumpy response:
Ms. Brenda, I'm here to get some blood from your arm.
Do you have to do it before breakfast? Get away from me. Where is that girl who always gets my blood? Ouch. Ouch. Nurse, do see what she's doing to me? Help me. Someone. Anyone. Oh, sweet Jesus.

Goober Eating Peas

A Lenten Update


Do I have to eat this?

Yes.

Could you food process it so it will go down easier?



Yes.







Could I try it in a glass so I can just chug it?



Yes.

Goodness, how delicious!

Are we counting down the days until the end of Lent?

Yes.

W.U.S.S.

This is what my hair cut looks like. One thing I was not wussy about was NO bangs. So I spent the better part of today brushing my hair out of my eyes. (You don't even want to know what the other part of my day was like!). So the STP and Booger are watching Lord of the Rings tonight. And as I walk through the room I realize that my hair is styled just like Aragorn's. Evidently I conveyed to the stylist that the movie star look I was going for was an elfin (elven?) creature from Modor.

FYI--I tried several ways to spell woose. I tried to make it rhyme with something. Goose. Pus. Cuss. Foos-ball. Moose. Mouse. Tush.

FYII--(FYI2?)--The reason the Thursday night movie is Lord of the Rings is because we had taters for supper.

Booger: What we need is a few good taters.
STP: What's taters Precious. What's taters eh?
Booger: PO-TA-TOES! Boil 'em. Mash 'em. Stick 'em in a stew!

Ours were actually done in foil on our new Weber grill. Yeah for cooking outdoors in sub-freezing weather.

Haircut Day

I had an appointment on Monday afternoon to get my haircut. But my stylist called and said she couldn't lift her arms over her head for a day and a half. (?) I offered to kneel on the ground, but instead we rescheduled for this afternoon. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I am a complete woose about things like this. And I had a hard time trying to describe what I wanted.
Last week the STP suggested I watch an episode of What Not To Wear. I don't care to think why. (I've been wearing my hair in a pony tail and really bad outfits around Dodge City this week, just in case he nominated me for the show and someone is following me around with a hidden camera.) But now I know what I need. $5,ooo and a week in New York. I'll take the stylist and the make-up lady, but I won't even need the services of the other two to insult and make fun of my current clothes and help me pick my new ones. (I've got people in New York who could do that for me.) What I need is someone to come here to Dodge City and use my budget and shop in the places I have to shop. That would be reality TV. Here is a shot of me walking into the thrift store. And the Western wear store. Dark jeans that drop straight down from my hips. (See me following 'the rules'?) Here I am trying on cowgirl boots and big silver belt buckles. Wait, we still have 45 minutes and $4500? Lets just head down to the Sugar Shack and have a milkshake.
So when my haircut was done and I put my glasses back on and the stylist asked if I liked it, I wasn't really sure. And I had no idea what I would want her to do with it. But it wasn't the amazing transformation I was hoping for. So I just said I would wear it around for a day or two and decide. I think I'll sleep on it.

The School Dance

The Booger thought he would go to the school dance this evening. So his Dad took him and dropped him off at the school gym. (Maybe I did drive my car off a cliff and I am now in an alternate universe.) Until supper time I did not know there was a school dance. He was gone from the house about an hour and a half. He called to be picked up at 9:00 because he wanted to watch Superman and the Clone Wars on the Cartoon Channel. I didn't even ask how the dance was. Or if he actually danced. He brought me a diet Pepsi. Obviously, I am still the most important woman in his life. I'm okay with that.

Woot, Woot!

Guess whose federal AND state taxes are submitted AND accepted. Oh, yeah!

Still Thinking...

...about doing the taxes.
...about what my dreams mean. (The recurring ones where my car ends up in a body of water.)
...about what to make for supper tomorrow.
...about what to plant in the flower boxes.
...about flat rocks.
...about buying new underwear.
...about being a good mom.
...about the price of gas.
...about the meaning of life.
...about going to bed.

High Rollers

Just a little rant today about people who roll their own coins as opposed to bringing them in in bulk and letting the bank machine count them. Please don't come to my window. I do not want to be short a penny in each roll. If you think you can just roll 49 pennies in a roll and not get caught that is fine with me. Think whatever you want. But it is stealing!! It is a sin! But if you are willing to sell your soul to the devil for 8 cents go right ahead. It doesn't sound like a good deal to me. But then again maybe you know yourself better than I do.
God only knows why this bothers me today. Maybe because it reminds me of the little 'compromises' I am willing to make. The tiny things I am willing to overlook in my own life. The thoughts I think cause I think no one will ever know. Only God knows.
Ouch!

Too Much Fun-gi

I just love a good fungus. I thought these were especially good fun.

Maybe people in Wyoming are happy because they are easily amused.

Spring is Coming

The flowerboxes are finished and on the front porch awaiting some dirt. And some seeds. And some water. And the Dodge City Town Council voted last week to allow outside watering EVERY DAY this summer instead of the Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday on the southside of town and Monday, Wednesday, Saturday on the north side of town. So now I don't have to keep track of what side of town I live on or what day of the week it is. If I want to water, I can. Except between the hours of noon and 6pm. Because the Dodge City Police Department needs something to patrol in the hot afternoon hours when they are not pulling over speeders.

FYI- I live on the south side of town. One of the Goober's friends told me that Hispanic people who leave their doors open and play their music really loud live on the south side of town. (He lives on the north side of town.) He said this because I was playing my music really loud. I can hardly wait for Summer when I can open the windows and the doors. Ole!

Dress Down Friday

The STP attended the Dodge City School Board meeting one evening this week. It is televised live on the local community station (I'm thinking that this might be common, but as recent subscriber to cable TV, it is a reality TV novelty to me.) So, while sitting on the couch with Goober, remote in hand, watching "The Biggest Loser" (at least I wasn't eating at the same time), I switched over to local channel to see if we could see the STP. As a quiet observer he wasn't getting any camera time, so the Goob said "Let's call his cell phone." Which was such a great idea, but I refrained only because I am trying to set a good example for my son. If I had been with Sara or Ami I totally would have done it. (If I was watching with Min, she would have called before I knew what she was doing and we would have laughed so hard we wouldn't have been able to talk.) But I digress--we didn't actually call and he had his phone on vibrate anyway.
One of the issues at the school board meeting came up when a mom raised the question about changes in the parent/student handbook. The superintendent responded in such a way that it was obvious she knew where this was going. It seems some 5th grade girls received in school suspensions for wearing pajama pants to school. There was no rule against this in the printed handbook, but online a 13th rule had been added concerning not wearing pajama pants, tops, or slippers to school. A meeting on the issue with the principal and the superintendent did not satisfy this mom, so she came to the board meeting to revisit the issue. This made the superintendent unhappy (I think she might originally be from Ohio or West Virginia). I, a call-the-school-mom from days gone by, was cheering on the mom. If I had known about this beforehand, I might have attended the school board meeting in my pajamas just to demonstrate my support. No one could say when, why, or by whom the 13th rule was added.
Hats are also against the school dress code. But in the Fall, if you paid $1, you could wear a hat on 'Hat Day'. Part of drug prevention week.

Seems that we are teaching that the rules are subject to not only interpretation, but also change, by those in authority. And that if you have a certain amount of money, the rules don't apply at all. Might makes right?

Today is Friday. So if I pay $2 I can wear my jeans to work at Dodge City Federal. The money goes to a benevolent fund for use around Christmastime. Wearing jeans is inappropriate for counting money any other day of the week.

I miss my scrubs. Healthcare--a place where pajama pants with drawstrings are appropriate every day. Maybe I could speak at the 5th grade career day.

State of Happiness

If you're from Ohio or New York--don't read this post. (I don't want you to feel worse than you already do.)
According to a recent poll, I live in the third most happy state in the entire United States. Right after Hawaii. That makes me so happy. In fact, the level of my happiness over this news just might move the state of Wyoming ahead of Hawaii on the list.
(I'm so happy right now , I should live in Utah.)

Treasury Secretary?

I still have a job in the financial industry. I don't want to do my taxes. And I certainly don't want to pay my taxes. Could I be destined to be in the president's cabinet?
Or should I just fire up the Turbo Tax and finish my taxes? And empty the dishwasher and put my dishes away in my kitchen cabinets?
I think I need to think about it another day or two.

Saving Daylight

Today I went to the Dodge City Building Center with the STP. And I took along my materials list for my new planter boxes for the front porch. And I talked the DCBC into delivering my materials free of charge. (Of course it is just across the street). And the STP measured and cut and drilled and fastened. And one box is far enough along that I could carry it to the front porch and try it on. And then the STP and the Goober had to go shoot guns. And now they are pursuing their favorite of Father/Son activities. Watching a movie. If only the day was an hour longer, instead of an hour shorter.
But I am going to soak my feet and browse through my idea file and decide what wonderful things I will plant in my new planter boxes. And I will imagine that they will all grow and flourish and be the envy of everyone who drives through Dodge City all summer long.
In other news, the snow is completely melted from the backyard. The Goober cleaned up a winter's worth of dog poo.
I just read the book Outliers. I don't think it will make me any more successful, but now I understand why I am not a professional athlete and why I can not play the piano.
Now I am just trying to figure out when we used to start saving daylight so I can be prepared for the dreaded automatic changing of the clock.
If I could save time in a bottle...

Ratatouille-With Emphasis on the Oooey

For the past ten days we have been eating vegetables and drinking only water ala Daniel in Babylon. It is a lenten experience of sorts. A few years ago the Goober discovered Lent and we participated by giving up TV and video games. Since then the Goober has done a little more research and decided that he could not find a single reference in the Bible of anyone giving up TV (and we have added the HDTV and a Wii which would need giving up). So instead the STP and Goober decided to give up a food related item. And that led to eating like Daniel. So our diet consists of things that grow in the ground. Fruits, Vegetables, and Grains. Rice, potatoes, oatmeal, salads, banana sandwiches--all good. Meat, eggs, milk, milk chocolate, and diet Pepsi--not on the menu. This makes cooking a real challenge, since the STP is gluten-free, and the Goober hasn't eaten a vegetable since he ate sweet potatoes from a jar with the Gerber baby on the label. We decided to try it for ten days and see if we look better than everyone else. (Go ahead and read Daniel, chapter 1)

So I found a recipe for ratatouille, and I made it. I have never seen nor eaten ratatouille. So I really didn't have anything to compare it to. I thought it turned out okay. The Goober said it did not look like the stuff from the movie, and I felt obligated to remind him that the movie was ANIMATED and I did not have a rodent pulling my hair to help me make it. He responded with gagging noises and said not to even tell him what the brown things were. The STP picked out all the green peppers and said it tasted better than it looked, but I'm pretty sure he shared the Goob's thoughts on how it looked.

So tonight I was feeling a little discouraged about supper. What do you want? Nothing. What are you hungry for? Nothing. What do you want--nothing. I would rather have nothing than what we've been having. (I was counting the days and this is day 10.) Open the fridge and look in. Oh, good--spinach, zucchini, cucumbers, leftover chinese vegetables that no one wants, and some tofu. Yes, tofu. Like toe foood.

So we made pasta and served it with Prego sauce with chunks of tofu. The STP had quinoa pasta shells, and the Goob and I had regular pasta shells. And we liked it. The Goober had two helpings of pasta WITH sauce, and tofu. And then we looked at each other and decided we did look better than everyone else and we would continue on for 10 more days.

So I'm open to recipe suggestions from all my vegan friends. Wait... do I have any vegan friends?

Of Files and Folders and Filing Cabinets

The file folder was not being used as a flashcard, just as scrap paper. The ten small words were just jotted on the back of the file folder.

There appears to be some confusion if the tenth word was 'is' or 'an'.

The file folder was labelled thusly:

And it has such valuable things as my bills for all twelve terms I attended good old PSU, info on every place I have worked and most places I have applied, the rough draft of my first cover letter handwritten and edited on notebook paper, my first resume typed on a typewriter, test scores from my registry exam, and a hand written note of encouragement from Dr. Glenn V. Tingley. It also has a page where I had written my name and the STP's name over and over in different colors of pen and markers. I suppose I was 20 years old, thinking that I would marry my prince and we would live happily ever after and I would never really have to have a real job. (Which is kind of how it has worked out...)

As an addendum to the filing post...

Yesterday the crazy barking dog (CBD) and I drove Alex to school. Upon our return, on my way through the big room, I noticed the STP had left a file drawer hanging open. (Leaving drawers open is unusual behavior only for the STP around here) So as I walked by, I pushed it shut. But the string from the bottom of my jacket got caught in the drawer. And when I tried to open the drawer, it was locked. So I saw the button with the lock, and I thought ...

PUSH IT! and before I remembered that that is a bad idea, I had pushed it. Which as you probably know (and I do now) locked the drawer for real. And so I had to call the STP and tell him that I had accidently locked my jacket in his filing cabinet. And neither of us thinks there is a key. But the STP is an amazingly understanding and talented man--able to remove stuck jackets from locked cabinets in a single bound. Looks like I was right about him 30 years ago.

Now I am going to find my markers and doodle his name on the back of the cable bill.

Oddly Enough

Not only did I post an odd number of times in February, But Amanda outposted me as well. This is a little troubling to me, because my life is so much better than hers. It is hard to imagine how this could happen. (Maybe I need a new love interest.)

So I am going to back up and tell you about our new TV. After Christmas the STP bought himself a 42 inch TV for the big room. My birthday gift to him was not whining about it. There was some confusion that the TV was actually his birthday gift, but that is not true. (Do not expect that you or I will get comparable gifts for our birthdays.) But also, do not think that not whining is a small gift.

We did not need a new TV. Our current 24 inch TV worked perfectly fine. It was hooked up to the cable for the first time in it's life, and you could watch more that 2 channels, and it did not snow at every football game. (Just the very cold outside ones.) And we are not blind.

But the STP wanted a new TV. A bigger TV. An HDTV. So in an extravagant loving gesture, I let him get one. He shopped online and talked to people and shopped in stores and talked to more people and finally went and bought one. (One of the people he talked to was me and that is why it is only 42 inches.) Here I am looking happy about the new TV.

Now the thing about an HDTV that you (and by 'you' I mean me) might not know is that an HDTV is not really an HDTV unless it is hooked to an HD signal. And all of those shows that say "Now available in HD" are not really available in HD unless your cable company subscribes to those channels in HD and you subscribe to your cable TV HD package. And by subscribe and package I mean pay extra for. Also, it requires the cable people to come and rewire the house and move the cable after you have already paid someone to wire twice. But they will waive the 'installation fee' and you will only have to pay for the HDMI cable and one other $10.00 fee which you have no idea is for. But it will not be recurring, so you do not even call to ask about it. Because, remember the gift. I am not whining. I'm just saying...

So the STP and Goober (who I sometimes refer to as Booger?!?!?!?!) are upstairs in the big room watching Star Wars episode Jabba the Hut on their big TV. Wishing they had a blu-ray player and surround sound speakers. (Which they do not.) And that is fine with me. Because I am not a whiner. I am not a whiner. I am not a whiner. I am not a whiner. I am not whining.

Ten Small Words

of it the to you in a and that is

I found these written on the back of a file folder. I think they are from Between the Lions which Alex used to watch on PBS before he went to preschool. Funny how ten small words can make me think of Arty Smartypants and Cliffhanger and a handful of index cards lined up on the living room floor in Spring Creek and a little girl asking "What does this say , Mommy?" I'm so thankful that we learned how to read.
This morning I read in Matthew 11 where Jesus says to the weary "Come to Me", and "let Me teach you".
Oh that I would learn.

Fat Tuesday

I wrote a blog entry about Mardi Gras that included beads, taking off my clothes, sweatshirts, Spring, ashes, and sackcloth. But because of the malformation or illegality of my client (see below), it did not appear here. Maybe that is for the best.

Bad Request

Whenever I hit the publish post button my computer says:

Bad Request

Your client has issued a malformed or illegal request

Malformed? Illegal?
And now a big red error message appears on my screen.
Somehow I think this is not good.

Luck Favors the Prepared

Went to the county courthouse Wednesday afternoon to apply for my passport. The courthouse is very courthouse-like. The Clerk of Courts is in charge of passports. I had all the necessary things gathered for Goober and I to apply for our passports. We had our photos taken before Christmas. His hair is longer than his shoulders and I look like a terrorist. If I ever disappear, I hope it is the picture they use on the news.
When you apply for your passport they want to know your travel plans. I don't have any travel plans. But luck favors the prepared, darling. So if I get the opportunity to go on a mission trip to Mexico, or be at the delivery of a grandchild in Slovakia, or am tapped to run for Vice-president of the United States, I'll be ready.
And I have 10 years to get to Paris. One of my life goals is to visit France. Now if I suddenly find the time and the money, I'll already have my passport. Oh, yeah. I'm well on my way.

Cold As Ice Fishing

These are the conversation hearts I gave the STP for Valentine's Day. He took Alex and I out to lunch today. He won lunch for 2 at the Sugar Shack in downtown Dodge City by entering the contest in the newspaper. The one where you had to describe in great detail your most romantic Valentines Day ever. No, really, all you had to do was answer the generic questions about Valentine's day and return it to the paper. And they only published the correct answers and the winners' names. No embarrassing pictures or poems.
But the best part of Valentine's Day this year was that the STP took me ice fishing. With 'the guys'. Ice fishing with the guys is no small deal. Wives do not go ice fishing. Even if the guys are going on Valentine's Day. They have breakfast together and one brave guy says, "Wives can come along." He knows his wife would never go, and he seriously doubts any other wife will go either. But Dave says, "Do you want to come along?" And I know that I will never get invited again, especially if I don't take this chance. So I went ice fishing.
Guys do not know what to do with this. First they think I am awesome and their wives are less than awesome because their wives would never go ice fishing with them. (except maybe once when they were dating). Then they start to get uncomfortable thinking that maybe other wives will start to go ice fishing and they will never get to go ice fishing again without their wives. And the wives are not really comfortable with me either. Maybe now their husbands will want them to go ice fishing with them. And who do I think I am--ice fishing with their husbands.
So here is what ice fishing is like: Cold.

Here is what you need to ice fish: A pick-up loaded with ice fishing paraphernalia and two sleds to haul said paraphernalia out onto the ice.

Ice fishing parphernalia includes: An ice auger (or two). To drill 6 to 10 inch holes through 18 inch thick ice. You first auger can be 6 inches in diameter, but the big fish are hard to get through a 6 inch hole so you will need a bigger auger. With a bigger engine. It takes two men to operate this, so you will also need a friend.
Ice fishing poles. This is a good time of year to buy an ice fishing pole, because they are on sale. You might as well buy two. If you have a license to ice fish you can use two poles. So you will have to drill two holes--for each of you.
A fish finder. This will tell you how deep the water is under the ice, so you know how deep to drop your line down the hole. It is also good to see fish swimming past your bait on their way to someone else's bait.
Bait. minnows, shrimp, or earth worms. Have some of each because you never know what the fish will be hungry for. The shrimp can be frozen. Ice fish love their food frozen. Also, you need a pocketful of miniature marshmallows to attach just above the earthworm on your hook. This makes the bait float a little, or else it gives the worm something to nibble on. If you are serious, your marshmallows are in a jar. They are bright green and have glitter on them. Now is a great time to buy a jar of these because they are on sale.
A fire pit. Set this up on the ice in the middle of where everyone is standing. Light a big fire. Once your line is baited and in the hole you will have a lot of time to stand around the fire. Stand on the far side of the fire from your holes. That way you can keep an eye on your poles in case you 'get a bite.' If you see your pole move you will have to holler and run frantically to your pole. Grab the line and give it a jerk to 'set the hook'. If you do not do this fast enough, some one else will do it for you. If the fish gets away it will be your fault, no matter how many guys have tugged on the line.
Now here is the part that is confusing. Put your pole (the one you just bought especially for ice fishing) down on the ice. Do not pick it up again until you have pulled the fish out of the hole using only your bare hands and a hand under hand motion on the fishing line. Just let the line fall in a tangle at your feet. I repeat--Do not use the pole or the reel. Again, if the fish gets away, it will be because you made a mistake in not keeping the line taut. You can probably solve this problem by buying a more expensive ice fishing rod. (While you are there you might as well price a new gun.)
A cooler stocked with food. Sausages to cook over the fire. Bags of Doritos. Drinks. However, if you are a woman you should not drink anything. There are no 'facilities' and it is not as easy for you to 'see a man about a horse' as it is for 'the guys'. And it is an hour home over a bumpy road.
If you catch a fish, it will flop around before it freezes to death. You will have to pick it up and get your picture taken with it. Hold the fish out in front of you, away from your body. This uses perspective to your advantage and makes your fish look bigger in the picture. If you want to catch another fish, you will have to kiss this fish. (This is a little known fact because guys do not take pictures of this ritual.)
If you want to sound like you know what you are doing, look at the fish and say, "Oh, it's a bull. See it's..." Do not finish the sentence. Anyone who does not know how the sentence ends will be too embarrassed to ask. Any one who knows what to look for will see it clearly and realize how knowledgable you are.
The STP and I only kissed each other, because we did not catch any fish. Alex caught two very nice cutthroat trout. My feet only got a little cold.
Would I do it again? Only if they asked me again.

From Amidala's Blog

Someday I will learn to use those little link things so you can go other places from here. But for now I just copied and pasted this from ami's blog. So you can keep up on the cloy world.

its everywhere.
i've been reading a book. for fun. don't ask me where i have been finding time to do this, i really dont know but i really like the book. its The Shack by William P. Young. i'm only about halfway through it now, but i only started it about three hours ago :)what i had to share was yet another intance of cloy being used outside of my family: its a more sad context, but its there nonetheless.

"Other times he would dream that his feet were stuck in cloying mud, as he caught breif glimpses of Missy running down the wooded path ahead of him, her red cotton summer dress gilded with wildflowers flashing among the trees."


Actually, when I copied and pasted this, the "its everywhere" made its own little link to itself. Maybe by just thinking about it I was able to do it. What if everything I desire tonight becomes my reality? This is way too much for my little mind. I'm going to bed before something really weird happens.

Emu, Brutus?

I got my Dad's propensity for clutter and his feet. The dry cracking kind of feet. It is exascerbated (exasperated?) by the dry winter weather. I am trying a new remedy. Emu oil. It comes in a little jar. It stains your feet and socks an ugly yellowbrown. It smells like emu butts. The list of ingredients lists 'fragrance' as an ingredient. What kind of fragrance would that be? Do they mean for it to smell like emu butts or does emu oil smell even worse than that and the fragrance is added to make it smell better? If that is the case, I don't want to ever smell unadulterated emu oil. I did a little research and found that the oil glad is not near the emu butt, but on it's back. What I couldn't determine was if the emu had to be dead in order to extract the oil. There is some suggestion (but no real evidence) that emu oil may also reduce wrinkles. I thought briefly about applying it to my neck, but the thought of my neck wrinkles filled with yellowbrown residue smelling like emu poo dissuaded me. And if the emu has to die, I'm pretty sure my vanity is not worth the life of an emu.
My feet are actually looking and feeling better. At least they are no longer cracked, bleeding, and painful.
This post reads like a bad spelling class essay. Where you have to use at least five of your vocabulary words in a paragraph. Exacerbated, propensity, unadulterated, residue, dissuaded. I'm not sure any of them are spelled right. Or used correctly. I really just wanted you to know about my feet. We're not going to talk about the clutter thing.

Ms. Brenda's Valentine's Playlist

Saturday night was the church Valentine's banquet. Held at the aforementioned Trapper Creek Lodge. The STP was asked to be the speaker. So since he doesn't have a lot of game and fish stories(yet), he decided to do his "All You Need Is Love" message. The one where he dresses like a hippie. (He wore his tattoo sleeve.) So as an introduction, I put together a Name That Tune game with songs that told our love story. I gave a few hints, the year of release, and a few bars of the song and the audience had to shout out the song title and artist. A good time was had by most.

I Want to Hold Your Hand The Beatles
Wouldn't It Be Nice Beach Boys
I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do ABBA
Weekend In New England Barry Manilow
Kiss Is On My List Hall and Oates
Slow Dancin' Johnny Rivers
Having My Baby Paul Anka
You Don't Bring Me Flowers B. Streisand/N. Diamond
Butterfly Kisses Bob Carlisle
I Loved Her First Heartland
We Will Dance Steven Curtis Chapman
God Only Knows Beach Boys
All You Need Is Love The Beatles

I plan to give the STP a copy of the CD for Valentine's Day along with some spanish conversation hearts. I hope he gives me chocolate. I do, I do , I do, I do, I do.

Walking Pneumonia and the Boogy Woogy Flu

The Booger has been sick for a week. Fever, chills, congestion, headache, stuffiness, runny nose, bloody nose, aching, coughing, lack of appetite, general malaise. As the week progressed, so did the symptoms. Finally on Friday the doctor pronounced the verdict of walking pneumonia. And we switched from over the counter remedies to antibiotics and prescription cough medicine. Still he doesn't move off the couch. I'm not sure about the walking part of the diagnosis.

Fish In A Bag-Explained For Ami

After the great ice fishing expedition and the pan fried fish with eyes, we were also given three smoked trout. I gifted one of them to the people from date night. I made one of them into dip to eat with crackers. And the STP wanted to send one back to guys he used to work with and originally ice fished with. The problem was deciding if a smoked trout was adequately preserved to survive a cross country trip through the mail. And how to answer the question, "Anything liquid, flamable or perishable?" So one of the church ladies had a vacuum sealer, and so the STP took the smoked trout over to her house and sealed it in a bag, put that bag into a box and mailed it off. He believes with the sub zero weather, the smoking, and the sealing that the fish was indeed NOT perishable.

The fish has yet to arrive.

I'm wondering if it ends up in the lost package department somewhere in the midwest, how long fish in a bag will remain imperishable.

Why Abi contemplates any of this? I can't explain that.

A Little More Cloy or Is This Getting Old?

From Joe Torre's book on the Yankees:

"Back in 2004, at first Rodriguez did his best to try and fit into the Yankee culture -- his cloying, B Grade actor best," the book says. "He slathered on the polish. People in the clubhouse, including teammates and support personnel, were calling him 'A-Fraud' behind his back."

Saw in the news that the Yankees are trying to include a clause in new player contracts that prohibits the use of the word cloy in any form. Good luck with that. I'm pretty sure cloy is back to stay.

Thank, Jimmy, for being my eyes out there.

I Used To Have Three Sisters

Alex visited the dentist shortly after his oldest sister left for college. The hygienist, in an attempt to make conversation (Why they do this when they have their hands in your mouth still eludes me), asked him if he had any brothers or sisters. He said,"I used to have three sisters, (and the hygienist braced herself for a sad story), but one of them went to college." I explained to him that even though your sisters don't live with you any longer, they are still your sisters.


Turns out I may have been mistaken.

I spent the past year getting to know my adult sisters better. A few delightful days in California, a week at the beach house in July. I thought we had bonded. Sent my baby sister a little gift that arrived on her birthday. Have all of their numbers in my cell phone. But after yesterday's edition of the Dodge City Gazette appeared on newstands and mailboxes throughout the region, I just have this to say: Sisters? What sisters?


Could they have used a baby picture, or even an awkward preteen picture? No. How about a recent, horrible, worse than real life picture! (And how did they photoshop those extra rolls on my stomach?)







Could they have cleverly disguised it so only those very close to me would be in on their little joke? No. How about my full name and my age just spelled right out!

On second thought, maybe I will keep my sisters. Now that I know how the game is played, I have 2, 3 and 10(!) years to exact my revenge. Years to gather inspiration and ammunition. I've only been thinking for one day and already I have this:

For the Cattauraggus Weekly:

NA: For your fiftieth an enormous surprise,

Finally your age is your bra size

(I have pictures...You know I do!)

For the Huntington Beach Press:

MK: Happy birthday to you,

Happy fiftieth to you,

You look like a crab,

and you smell like one too.

For the Clearfield Chronicle:

Remember I have 10 years for this one...

Oh, be afraid little sister, be very afraid....

Cloy Revisited

I have become a subscriber to Time magazine. Because it is difficult to get news here. Oddly the Feb. 2nd issue of Time arrived in my Dodge City mailbox on Jan. 26th. Is this because of the time zone changes? Or are we in Dodge City just ahead of our time? Anyway, on page 22 of this issue in a short article by Alex Altman regarding Super Bowl halftime shows there appears this sentence:
In 1976 the non-profit organization and performance group Up with People--lampooned on The Simpsons as Hooray for Everything--began a cloying stretch of dominance that included four performances in 11 years. (emphasis mine)
This may be the first sighting of a use of the word cloy outside of the hymbook.
Steelers in the Super Bowl? It never seems to cloy.

Birthday Week, Continued

Last night the STP and I, along with a couple from Dodge City Federal, went out to Trapper Creek Lodge for date night. Very good food, very good company (I invited them because they are OLDER than me) and a very good time. I wanted to take the STP there for his birthday, but decided it was what I wanted not him. So we went for my birthday. This is a place in Shell Canyon. Beautiful setting against the mountains, snow covered, log building, soft lighting against the dark sky of evening. Lovely.
Tonight I soaked in the tub by candlelight while the STP cleaned up after supper. And now I am going to watch Pirates of the Carribean (the first one!) with the STP and Goober.
I'll be sorry to see this week end.

Update on Healthy Breakfast Results

Just in case you forgot what the Goober looked like, and you've read the statistics about obese children, and you think maybe the marshmallow creme is a bit excessive, I just wanted to post this picture of my son. Maybe it's a little misleading, because he is standing sideways...

Let's Table That

Okay, maybe I have a table problem. On my way home from work at Dodge City Federal yesterday, I took a walking detour into the Dodge City used furniture store. And I bought a table. Not the table I was looking for. Another table that I just found out I needed when I saw it. Like my most favorite of things it is made of wood and will need painted. And I already have the less than coriander green paint, remember? So I had to buy it. And bring it home. And I already have a place for it. See?

Also, here are the pillows I made for the living room. The ones that have been crying out for their own table.

See how good they look with the table. And Dixie and her friend like it a lot. Oh, yeah, I'm going to hurry up and paint it green before the STP holds an intervention.
When did she start collecting and painting tables?

We can't really remember when it started, but it definately got worse when she turned 50.

Birthday week--Day 2

There was some discussion at Dodge City Federal the other day about being a year older, a decade older, a half century older. Inquired around to find out what the terminology is for half a century. Decided it is 'old'.

I started the day off by going to the doctor's office. Cross another thing off the to do list. Bad news: because I am old and have a family history I will have to schedule a colonoscopy. Add that to the to do list. Good news: because I am old and not sleeping around I do not have to have a pap smear this year. Almost makes turning 50 worth it. Then I watched the inauguration and then I went to Bible Study and then I took Alex to the dentist for a checkup and cleaning. So that is one more thing crossed off the list. More good news: I didn't get lost and no cavities. Then I came home and baked a pan of brownies. So it seems that I'm running about two-to-one in the good news/bad news and off the list/on the list categories.
Just noticing that there is no between as you age. Seems like there should be some time between your face breaking out and your hair turning gray. Or some time between having your last period and facial hair. The physician's assistant asked me about some symptoms and conditions that I don't have yet. Wonderful things that I have to look forward to.
My favorite daughter got me two worship CDs for my birthday. The STP got me a CD player for under my kitchen cabinets. My CD player in my car has worked 3 days in a row. Nobody got me black balloons.
It's all good.

Shredding

Today I am celebrating the first day of my 50th birthday week. Told the kids at church yesterday that when your age ends in a zero you should celebrate for a whole week. I celebrated by doing 5 loads of laundry and sorting through papers. And shredding things I don't think I need anymore. I was hopeful that the place would be less messy at the end of the day , but so far it's not working out that way. Maybe when I actually fold the 5 loads of laundry and clean up the shreddings it will be better.

I have more plans for tomorrow. Just went ahead and scheduled a pap smear for 8am tomorrow morning. Do I know how to celebrate or what? Guess you can be glad I didn't invite you to my party.

No Fishing

Yesterday was a great day for ice fishing. So the STP went. I never get invited to go along. I told him how dissappointed I am with this. I told him that the next time the guys ask him to go fishing he should ask if he can bring his wife. I don't think he even asked.
He brought home some beautiful trout. Most of them were in the form of fillets, but this lucky creature got to keep his head.

And his tail. So I just pan fried him just like that.

In some butter and my own mix of herbs. Alex thought he wouldn't want to eat fish every night, but he ate his share tonight. Dave feels the same about fish. I thought it was very good and it is the first thing I have ever cooked with it's eyeballs intact.

Maybe if the guys find out I can cook a trout they will invite me to go along.

Hey, Dave. Can your wife come along and clean the fish?

Nah, let's just bring 'em home and she can do it there.

GB Report

The cutest grandbaby on earth is spending a few days with us. So we don't have time to update and tell you about the STP's speeding ticket or his new HDTV or how sad we are that Amidala had to fly back to the 'East Coast'. We are too busy kissing this baby.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Brown paper packages tied up with strings...

(imagine Julie Andrews singing it)

The Church Lady was digging in her basement and found a box. Tied up with string. Mailed to the previous inhabitant of her house in 1954. (imagine again--something older than me) And in the box were 15 crystals that match the aformentioned chandelier. So now my chandelier is complete, and I have a few extra crystals, and I have a box (which I retied with the original string) tucked away in the bottom of the china cabinet. Just knowing its there makes me happy. And just having it out of her house makes the CL happy.

Snowflakes that stay....not so much.

A Healthy Breakfast

As part of my new year's resolution to eat healthier and feed my family healthier, I am starting with a healthy breakfast for the Goober.

Chocolate pancakes. Made with Nestle's Quik (less sugar than other brands). Chock full of the rich antioxidants of dark chocolate chips. Topped with marshmallow fluff, and rich chocolate syrup from our homeland.

Not sure about the health factor here? Let's have a closer look: See?

Calcium and 5 essential vitamins and minerals. Am I a good Mom or what?

Happy New Year

2009 was about half an hour old when the STP got pulled over by the police. Welcome to the new year.
Do you have any idea why I pulled you over, sir?
No, Officer, I don't.
Okay, it was a burned out headlight on the STP's suzukimobile, and he just got a warning. Good to know that Dodge City is safe. There's just something a little unnerving about having flashing lights in the rear view mirror.

Not Exactly Gold, Frankenscense, and Myrhh

Alex has two complete weeks off from school. He doesn't have any work to do over the break, and he is beyond the years of bringing home ornaments, or little gifts for Mom, but he didn't come home empty handed. He snuck in with a little stomach virus, which attacked him last weekend. He shared it and the STP and Amanda got it on Tuesday. By Christmas eve everyone was feeling well enough to go to church and eat Aunt Sara's taco dip. By 1am Christmas morning I knew what my three gifts were going to be. Chills, vomiting, and diarhrea. Once I got the first one, it was just the anticipation of the others that made the night go so fast. By morning, I actually felt better (but I have no desire for any more of the taco dip) and spent the day on the couch. All of the buckets in the house are back where they belong. Next episode: the blizzard.

Winter Wonderland

Joy To The World

I Had This Great Idea...

...for our Christmas picture. Unfortunately, we had to wait for Amanda to get here and then when she got here it was 12 below zero and because I have many years of experience trying to get my family to pose for a Christmas picture, I knew better than to ask them to do this in below zero conditions. So Saturday it went to 7 above. So we went to take the picture. Along the highway.

The great idea involved changing the population sign. With white electrical tape. It also involved Alex on Dave's shoulders to accomplish this. And Amanda on Dave's shoulders because I wasn't happy with where Alex placed the '9', and he refused to do it again and Amanda (who has more Christmas picture experience recognized the crazed look in my eye and didn't want to hear for the rest of her life how we never got the picture in 2008) agreed to climb up and move the '9'.

The great idea also needed a one hour photo developer which we found one hour from here. It involved e-mailing said photo and driving an hour to pick up the prints. And so today I was just going to pick up a box of cards in town and mail out those great pictures. But, of course, I live in DODGE CITY where there are no boxes of Christmas cards. So now I can not send out the cards until I actually have them and I'm thinking the nearest cards are probably an hour from here. And it is 5 degrees and snowing. And I'm not going out there. So here is the picture:

Please note that it is not photoshopped. We really changed the sign with electrical tape, stood along the highway in single digit weather, and took this picture of ourselves. If I could photoshop, I would have taken the picture in October, changed the sign with photoshop and photoshopped Amanda in. But what fun would that have been?

Last Minute Gift Ideas

1. A Pedi-egg.
2. Photoshop

Regifting Ideas

Things I would like to give back or away:
1. My Dad's feet.

Not Normally Like This

It is minus double digits outside today. Neither car will start. Amanda is here. We are going to make hot drinks and watch the abs of steel video. And stay in our pajamas all day. And try to clear yesterdays dishes off the counter before Dave and Alex get home. But if we don't get that far down our list there's always tomorrow. When it will be well below zero again.

I Really Need To Stay in More

Over the weekend I was the female chaperone for the youth group at a teen conference/concert in the big city. When the STP was a YP (youth pastor) for 10 years, I did not even once serve as an adult chaperone to anywhere. Alex asked me to go , so I thought it was a good thing that he thought I was cool enough to travel with the youth group. Turns out they were just desperate for a female chaperone. Turns out that last year a teen girl spent the entire weekend throwing up. And the female chaperone spent the entire weekend cleaning up and driving her to meet her mother half way home. No one told me this ahead of time. I only found out through snippets of conversation. Like these:

Why didn't Lisa come?
Her Mom wouldn't let her because she spent the whole time last year throwing up.

Do you want to eat at McDonalds?
Oh yeah, this is the McDonalds where Lisa threw up last year.

Surprisingly, last year's chaperone was busy this weekend. Too busy to spend the weekend with 8 teen girls. Know what's worse that 8 teen girls? Eight tired teen girls. Know what's worse than really loud music? Really loud music in the dark with strobe lights--trying to keep track of eight teen girls. Evidently there is a good reason the YP never asked me to chaperone with him.

The headline band was skillit. I can't tell you anything about them, except that they were loud. Some of my teen girls got their autographs. When they showed them to me, I just said
Wow, groovy!
because I couldn't read their names. Unintelligable writing and unintelligable lyrics but evidently they are really good because they are 'like my favorite band'. And evidently there are lyrics. Because some teen girls were singing along at the top of their voices. At least I think they were singing. I couldn't really hear anything and it is difficult to read lips of screaming teen girls.

So my plan to get out more is going really well. I have other things to blog about, but I am way too busy. I'll try to update more often. But to do that I would have to stay in...

C, I'm Still Thankful...

61. Christmas trees
62. Colorful lights
63. Candy Canes
64. Cocoa with mini marshmallows
65. Cough drops
66. Cars that start
67. Co-workers
68. Celery
69. Carrots
70. Cosmic brownies

Building Relationships on a Ladder

True to my pledge to get out more, I ate supper at the bank last night. It was the 'decorating party'. Starts at 5:30. Pizza and chicken, decorate the lobby, and Santa comes. Simple enough if you've done it before. Just a few complications if you are new. Bring the family? Yes. Kid's sit in Santa's lap? Yes. What time do we eat? You ask a lot of questions.
(The last time Alex visited with Santa he asked for a tape dispenser to tape his sister's mouth shut. Fortunately, this was in the days of his speech impediment and Santa didn't really have a chance to figure out what he was saying before I tore Alex from his lap. He was three.)
I talked Dave and Alex into attending with me. I decided to attend for 1 hour (and make our getaway before Santa arrived). I fed them a little supper at home in case the pizza arrived after we left. So, of course, they were eating right at 5:30. By 6:00 we were standing in the lobby looking at a ginormous tree. A handful of kids were hanging ornaments on the bottom two branches. And there were two strings on lights on the top of the tree. Everyone else is standing around looking at each other. So Dave gets the ladder positioned and so as not to leave him hanging, I climb up the ladder and attempt to string lights from branch to branch.
Lest you think this is a lovely picture, let me remind you that I have gained 15 pounds in the last four months. I am still wearing the same jeans. I have cleverly disguised my mushroom stomach with a Christmas sweatshirt. When I look in the mirror I remind myself to keep my stomach sucked in and stand to the back of the crowd. But, no, instead I climb up on a ladder in the middle of the room, above everybody's head, and raise my arms in the air. Lovely.
By the time I come to my senses, I realize it is time to go. I take what little dignity I have left and make a hasty retreat. Dave and Alex decide to stay and finish the lights and wait for Santa.
Santa brought Alex a great personalized sweatshirt. Dave got to meet some of the people I work with. I got out of the house and a piece of pizza. Like I needed that pizza.

I Gotta Get Out of Here

I have discovered why it is getting more difficult to post. I don't get out enough. I don't really know where to go to look for adventures, but I am getting motivated to start looking actively for one. Or two. But not many more than that for right now. I'll let you know how it goes. Until then here is how the Fern Green Table turned out.

Before:

After:

On With the Show!

51. Comments
52. Paychecks
53. Mrs. Potts
54. Big mugs
55. Countdowns
56. Gluten Free Oatmeal
57. Recipes you can count on
58. Pomengranate 7-up
59. Diet Pepsi
60. Hope