It's either writer's block or menopause. Either way I've gained 10 pounds.

Summer is almost over and I've not written a blog post since June 4.  I will not try to explain this except to say, in a move reminiscent of Janet Jackson at Superbowl VIIXIVITIT, I lost my swimsuit bottoms in a public pool shortly after summer started.  I might have PTSD.

After a long pause in blog production there are some things that are bound to annoy the crap out of readers.

1.  Trying to explain why there has been an extreme pause in writing. 

So, let me attempt to explain the long pause in writing.  I cleaned my copper bottom pans.  Jesus.  My lack of tricep muscles are still sore and I think I found the decomposed remains of Jimmy Hoffa under the black burned stuff that was on my pots.  On the upside - I can now taste my food and I will not be mildly embarrassed if Paula Deen chances by and decides to melt me some butter sprinkled with cheese and then salted (under the guise that she is a reformed diabetic racist).

2.  Trying to explain previous blog topics and why they didn't work. 

So, here are some things I have tried to write about in the past month and then after a rereading - promptly eaten the results (which could explain why I've gained 10 pounds).

a.  How Much I Hate Barbie.  Did you know that along with being an astronaut, physicist, hooker, veterinarian, and entrepreneur, she writes books now?  And (surprise) they read a lot like the genius script from Two Broke Girls.  Because I would never believe it unless I saw it, I've included one of the pages from the book that clearly makes me proud to support public libraries through all my fines.  In case the captions look like they're in Chinese (the book was made in China, after all), I've included the (interpreted) script for you below.



Unnamed character:  Barbie!  Ken's here!  Barbie:  Oh no!  I don't have my brain in yet!  Brunette:  Barbie!  Remember, you don't have a brain!  Barbie:  Oh, yeah!  That's a relief!

  And now I think I should be a published (paid) author.

b.  How Much I Hate Insurance. 

Insurance - n.noun

1. The act, business, or system of screwing.
2. The state of being screwed.
3. A means of being screwed.
4. Coverage by a contract binding a party to indemnify another against specified loss in return for premiums paid unless such premiums go toward a "deductible" in which case the party paying the premiums is screwed out of their premiums and stuck with said specified losses.  (See #1-3.)
5. The sum or rate for which such a contract insures something or not (See #4).
6. The periodic premium paid for this coverage.  "Coverage" being a relative term dependent on the amount of said deductible which is relative and rises in relation to the amount in which the paying party is being screwed.
7. A protective measure.
8. Bullshit.

Term in use:  I f*cking hate insurance.

c.  My inability to cook even with a recipe.

Here is what I made just this morning from a biscuit recipe:

Whatthef*ckisthat?

Y'know how some people have suffered tremendous stress and then go on to like win the Olympics?  Well, I'm kind of like that.  I have suffered the loss of ruining virtually every recipe I've set out to cook and yet I've managed to come out a winner almost every time.

*Eating that idea now.  (And, it's quite delicious I might add.  Score!)*

e.  Like every other female on the planet my hormones are all out of whack.  I think I've narrowed down my afflictions (thank you, WebMD) to either ebola, menopause, a stubbed toe, or a hangnail.  The list of symptoms of menopause is a blog in and of itself (the title of that blog is:  Menopause - Serve Yourself Some More Cake).  I seem to have experienced just a few symptoms (not a comprehensive list) in the time I've had writer's block:  fatigue, depression, hot flashes, mood swings, sudden tears, inability to articulate or write, inability to cook or do laundry, sudden bouts of bloat (although apparently not enough to make the elastic in my swimsuit bottoms hold), gastrointestinal distress (could be related to my cooking?), disturbing memory loss, increased tension in the muscles, and tinnitus (could be due to my kids not being in school?).

3.  Trying to describe how much you have missed your readers.

If it weren't for virtual friends, I'd have no friends at all and I know you guys have all been reading everyone else's superior blogs and having a party without me.  What can I say?  It hurts.

So, I will not try to tell you why I've been gone, what I've been doing instead of blogging, what topics have just not worked, or how much I've missed you guys.  As some guy once said in AA, "Today I am not enjoying life as it occurs.  Today I am blogging about it instead.  I'm not sure when I will do this again and I will not make any promises.  But today I hope you guys will join me."  (Or something like that.)

The Eat From Our Pantry Challenge

Preface:  Recently one of my talented neices, who I love dearly, came to visit my dad (who I also love dearly).  She wrote a pretty amazing post about my dad and I would love to share it with you.  You can read it here  on her blog (which is a fabulous foodie/fitness blog).

I feel like I have finally recovered from losing the hour that disappeared when we sprang forward (apparently some of us sprang more quickly than others).  I can wake up now and I don't feel quite so comatose even before my allotted one large K-cup of coffee.  As you know I have been trying some cooking challenges and I have also been re-doing the older girls' room in a major way (I promise I will have after photos for you soon - the talented woman who is making the drapes and comforters is still working).  Since I have reverted back to my old cooking ways and I am kind of at a stand-still with the girls' room, today I decided it was high time for some spring cleaning (I am proud that this year I did not wait until summer to do spring cleaning).  The pantry was begging for me to organize it since my Costco purchase still lay on the kitchen floor after being dumped there Monday because the pantry was too crowded and disorganized to put anything away.

Our pantry extends all the way under our staircase leading upstairs, so it's walk-in and (as I've said many times) is big enough to convert into a room for a very small child (okay, maybe not a child, but definitely a pet).  This job took me most of the morning because once I started organizing I decided to go ahead and clear the floor and mop in there (which I'm going to guess hasn't been done in, oh, - I'll try not to gross you out - five years - give or take).   Here is what I ended up with:  (remember:  cell phone camera and bad lighting)

I realize:  1.  This may not look incredibly organized to some of you, 2.  I also realize that with the three Costco peanut butter jars front and center some of you might think I am a hoarder, and 3.  You might also think I am a lush because yes, that is the top of my Costco Lite Beer box.  My explanation:  I cannot afford to elfa my pantry yet (although it is on the long list), I feed six people three meals a day seven days a week (some of them happen to like peanut butter), and I am a lush. 

For me, this is a super-clean, organized pantry and I am supremely happy I took the time to do this (so is my family since they no longer have to trip over all the Costco crap on the kitchen floor).  But I will concede that is a lot of food.  Even for six people.
So, I have decided to issue a challenge to my family.  We are going to eat solely out of our pantry and freezers (yes, we have two and they are well stocked) for one week. 

I usually shop every Friday morning.  I spend from $125-145 on weekly groceries for our family and included in that total are some non-grocery items such as some toiletries and some cleaning supplies.  This is after I carefully plan a menu and try to note what we need (that's the part I am seeing that I am not-so-great-at).  I shop accordingly.  Tomorrow I am still going to plan the menu, but instead of seeing what I need after that I am going to plan the menu around what we already have.  I am only allowing myself to buy three gallons of milk (should be a short trip - - for once). 

I have told hubby and the kids and they are all on board.  Hubby said if we can do it we will have about $112 of free money.  We have already planned to treat ourselves to Spicy Ginger and I am sure we will manage to take care of any money left over after that.  Hubby also Facebooked this to me:

Thanks, hubby.

Wish me luck and if I post next Thursday that I am having milk for dinner - you will know what's up.  Happy weekend!

I'm kind of A Big Deal (and I am serious this time).

I'm *kind of* famous and I almost f*&%ing missed it.  As most of you know I have quite an addictive personality (Don't be jealous.  It's only for useless $hit.  Of course I couldn't be addicted to sewing, being a great parent, or super wife, or cleaning, or cooking great food, or checking my spelling and grammar, or folding laundry correctly instead of just stuffing the drawers full to the point of breaking the dressers.  I'm only addicted to:  procrastinating, things that make me fat, cheap beer, expensive dark chocolates, Pinterest, etc., etc.).  One of my addictions:  I cannot stop finding great blogs I've never read, becoming addicted, adding them to my blogroll, and basically stalking people until they take out a restraining order on me....KIDDING.  No one's done that yet.  That I know of.  It's so bad that I had to make a resolution to try and curb it.  BUT, it seems my bad habits have finally PAID OFF (yeah, pay attention, hubby!).  The fabulous author of one of these new (to me) blogs I recently started stalking has bestowed an honor upon my blog (that sounds so British)...............AND I AM PEE PANTS EXCITED ABOUT IT (that sounds all American). 

I had just been bitching and moaning about how I never get awarded crap, how I must be just a God awful blogger, how I will never, ever be a famous author (or cookie store owner, damn it), how every other blogger I know has a crap ton of awards and I don't have jack$hit, how my skin is looking so old and that's probably why my blog sucks, blah, blah, blah.  And then I find out that the fairly famous gal over at whatimeant2say (who has a crap ton of awards, BTW, that she had to buy a f&*%ing bookshelf for them) has given me this:

Is this beyond awesome, or what?  SHE is fairly famous and so now that makes me (I guess) kinda famous!!!  Do you want to shake my hand and then never wash your hand again?  I'll let you!  This fame is new, so take advantage of me!  I am so gonna buy a new car today because every kinda famous person needs a new ride, right?

So, apparently when people get awarded awards (this is my first one, so I am not really sure about protocol) they are required to do certain things (like buy new cars and maybe that new purse I have been wanting..............I feel a "note to self" coming on).  So, here's the certain things I need to do/feel compelled to do.  Don't worry I made it concise.

Protocol when you are awarded an award for Awarding People Who Are Kind of a Big Deal.

1.  Acceptance Speech:  I would like to thank myself for being so brilliant. whatimeant2say for recognizing my brilliance. blog.  I would also like to thank God and my mom.

2.  Name 5 things you would stick up your Junk Trunk if you were forced to.  Hmm.  whatimeant2say has never met me IRL so I would not expect her to know that I don't have any Trunk Junk.  I would, however, stick my skinny a$$ up for:  a beer (it's okay I don't need a glass), Ghiradelli chocolate brownies (even just the samples at Costco), injustice of any kind (unless it involves squirrels, those nasty chocolate rats, living things crawling up your toilet to bite you in the a$$, or SPAM because I have rational fears toward all of those things), white girls who rap (because there aren't very many and I think they might need my Junk Trunk - small as it is - to help them out), and The People of Wal-Mart (because let's face it, we would have far fewer laughs without them).

3. Tell at least 5 things you do that would make people want to kill you or, at the very least Hate you for the rest of their lives.  Wow.  Just five?  1.  When I am bored talking on the phone I make a static-y sound with my mouth and say, "Oh, the phone's breaking up.  I'll call you back."  2.  Every time I see Sometimes when I see small, yappy dogs that won't shut up I just want to go to Korea.  3.  I watch Millionaire Matchmaker.  4.  I get in short lines at the grocery and then use a lot of coupons.  And then I write a check.  5.  I drive slower than 20 in school zones (and I have been known to forget about holidays and weekends) and if I see someone on a cell phone I roll down my window and do an old geezer shaken fist move at them.       

3. Blindfold yourself & walk out into traffic on the Highway.  I got my four kids to do that one for me. 

4. Pick 5 Bloggers to BULLY with this (a-hem) ‘Award’.

Adventures in Self Reliance

Ramblings and Rumblings

This Is Mommyhood

Cyberbones 

Manic Motherhood

P.S.  A good friend just brought to my attention that I totally screwed up the answer to #2.  Sorry.  Apparently my brain was "off" when I answered that.  Now that I have read it correctly my answer, "EWWWWW.  EXIT ONLY."

Unicorn as profession of the gifted? Yeah, I have my doubts, too.

So, lately the three year old has been front and center in this family in terms of sociopathic behavior.  She may have oppositional defiant syndrome, she may have split personalities, she may have visions, and she might be delusional.  The jury is still out.

I don't think any of my older kids ever had imaginary friends.  I think the three year old does.  The friend's name is Elisa.  Here is what I know about her:  she is "like a princess," she lives in a castle, her parents are never mean, her parents never spank her, she can eat cookies and candies whenever she wants, she spends a lot of time on the Wii, she is around five years old, she has a brother (sometimes), and she goes to school (sometimes).  Here are the details that are sketchy:  how my daughter met Elisa, where Elisa actually lives (What is her castle near?), whether or not anyone else in our family knows Elisa, and whether or not we could sometime in the future meet Elisa.

Currently Girl 3 plans parties for Elisa, she talks about her like she was alive and real, she obsesses on Elisa's family, and she often spends more time talking about Elisa than about us (her real family).

Because I was mildly concerned about this new obsession, I extensively researched imaginary friends (via status updates on Facebook), and here is what I have learned:  imaginary friends are common and quite hilarious, I'm frankly surprised this is not more stand-up comedy fodder, some kids have gone to great lengths to give their friends fascinating details, in the history of man imaginary friends have taken the rap for everything from eating the last cookie to skipping school, having imaginary friends may be psycho-babble for sorting out issues within your own family (blech), and kids who have imaginary friends *might* have significantly higher IQs than kids that don't.  All in all my research showed:  Good news?  I guess?  Don't analyze my family?  My last kid is clearly a genius or if anything WAY smarter than the others?  I should be happy?  Right?

Well, here is where I am skeptical.  Let me take you back a few days ago when baby and I were in the grocery store check-out line.  A delightful older gentleman was in line behind us and was chuckling as baby was loudly belting out B-I-N-G-O while asking me a million questions far beyond her level (one of them being the purpose of Feminine Products).  This tolerant (possibly hard of hearing) older man asked her her name and how old she was to which she responded appropriately and with remarkable gusto.  He then asked her if she knew her ABCs.  She belted out a good 19 out of 26 letters and he clapped when she was "done."  He then commented to me, "You have a smart cookie on your hands."

Trust me, I did not get excited.  I was born at night, but not last night.  Plus, I have three older children.  So, I know better than to get excited when someone compliments my childrens' intelligence or behavior.  The compliment only means that they will immediately do something so ridiculously stupid (pick their nose and eat it, loudly ask an incredibly nonsensical question, slug their sibling in the nose, fart and then laugh, etc.) that it will cause you to leave them behind at whatever public place you happen to be.  Therefore, I just smiled silently.

He then turned to baby and enthusiastically said, "YOU ARE SO SMART!  What are you going to be when you grow up?"

To which baby (grinning a wildly psychotic grin) equally enthusiastically shouted, "I AM GOING TO BE A UNICORN WHEN I GROW UP!!!  WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP???"

Kids with imaginary friends *might* be smarter?  Someone save us.

I hate it when that happens.

So, today was already gearing up to be a doozy.  And then the law showed up. 

First things first.  When I got up, I logged onto Facebook just like I normally do, but unlike normal I found that my husband had posted a video to Facebook.  To the normal folk this may seem innocuous.  To "normal folk" I say, "My husband is not normal."  He only joined Facebook a few weeks ago and since then this is a sample of our conversations regarding Facebook (Note:  They all end the same way and they all take place when I am busy doing very important work):

Him:  So, how do I "friend" people (insert any action you can do on Facebook)?
Me:  You just search for them, and when their name comes up in the search box click on them.  When you click on them it will say "Friend."  Click on that and they will get a friend request from you.
Long pause.
Him:  So, where's the search box?
Me:  It should be in the upper part of all pages of Facebook.  Your wall or home.
Another long pause.
Him:  Home?  Wall?  I thought they were the same thing.  Oh, okay.  I see.  So, I just friended someone, and I am not sure who they are.  How do I "cancel" that?
Me:  ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

So, imagine my shock and surprise when I logged in and saw that he had posted a video.  And it was totally appropriate and cool.  With a comment!  On his own.  Totally.  I was so happy.  And a little scared (which keep reading and you will find that was totally justified).  I vowed that if it rained today I would stay inside...just to be safe.  Little did I know getting struck by lightening would have been a picnic.

That was the first kinda weird thing that happened.  Then, as I was just kind of fooling around at my desk, talking to a good friend on the phone, and planning out my day I saw something outside the window out of the corner of my eye.  At first I thought it was a dog.  Then upon a full-on head jerk and muttering that sounded something like, "WHAT THE %$&#?",  I realized it was a coyote.  I quickly said to my good friend, "I have to go.  Sasquatch might be in my backyard.  No one is going to believe this.  I need to go take a picture.  Call you later."  Thankfully I was dressed, although not entirely appropriately (I'll just leave that part up to your imagination), so I grabbed the camera and raced outside to photograph him/her.  I did this because in our house no one believes anything any other family member says unless said family member has verifiable proof (like a photo).

I sprinted into the area behind our house.  This guy was moving fast, so I had to go clear into the neighbor's yard.  It was just as I had gotten behind our neighbor's house (as in right behind their patio door) when this GINORMOUS owl/hawk/swan/flamingo looking bird SWOOPED out of the lower part of a nearby tree and flew right toward the coyote/wolf/dog/chupacabra.  IT SCARED THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF ME.  I did a thing that could only be described as Crazy Wail and Swat Like Mad and took off running back to my house.....with no photograph. 

I immediately called my friend back to tell her what had happened, when I'll be damned if that sucker came sauntering BACK BY MY BACK DOOR like he was either 1.  Taunting me, or 2.  Giving me another opportunity to prove myself with a photo.  So, I said, "CRAP!  He's BACK."  She said, "GO PHOTOGRAPH HIM."  I said, "I'm kinda scared."  She said, "Leave baby in the house because he might be hungry and grab a broom."  As I write this now I realize that sounds pretty Crazy Town, but right then it sounded perfectly plausible.  So, I grabbed a broom, the camera, and sprinted out again. 

What my other neighbor would have seen behind his back fence had he been home (I am still praying he wasn't) was this:  Me, wearing less than appropriate clothing, flailing a broom in one hand, sprinting across the wild land behind his back fence, chasing what I think was a coyote am sure was a coyote, while looking through the lens of a camera, trying not to trip, and glancing up above to make sure I was not eaten by an owl/hawk/big-ass bird.

This all prompted me to update my status on Facebook immediately after it was over:

just saw a coyote closer to our house than i've ever seen, so i go out to take a picture of him. as i am chasing him (camera in hand) this GIANT owl/hawk looking thing swoops down on him. let's just say i hope my neighbors are at work because i screamed, and started swatting at the air above my head while running for my life. i am not even kidding. i am now officially creeped out.


Now, had my excitement for the day ended there I would have been completely satisfied....but, it only got stranger.  I went upstairs to take a shower and told baby to play quietly.  Next thing I know, someone is BANGING on the door as I am standing in front of the mirror stark naked hair dripping wet (do not picture that it will only make you want to poke your eyes out with sharp sticks - I know that from personal experience).  I figure it's my house cleaner and don't do anything.  The banging continues and then becomes coupled with constant ringing.  So, I thought what you are probably thinking now:  Holy CRAP!  Someone got eaten by the coyote and people now know (since I posted it on Facebook) that I know something about it!!!!!!!!  SOMEONE IS IN IMMINENT DANGER!

That's why I put on some clothes (the inappropriate ones from earlier) and screamed for my baby.  She came sauntering in.  Frantically I said, "WHO IS IT?  IS IT MS.--------(house cleaner)?  WHO IS IT BABY????"  And baby very calmly said,  "No, mama.  It's not Ms. ________, or Ms. (random friend), or Ms. (another friend)."  I frantically said, "WELL WHO IS IT THEN???"  

"It's a police officer.  But, don't worry.  He's not here to arrest you."

By that time I was down the stairs, it was too late to change my clothes.


Post script:  Turns out baby was right.  It was indeed a constable.  He was not here to arrest me.  He very calmly said he had papers to serve on hubby.  Before you worry about hubby, no I did not serve divorce papers on him, it was not totally unexpected, and we are hoping it is something we can deal with.  But, please imagine Officer M.'s surprise when I opened the door, dressed in my not entirely appropriate clothes, hair wet, and with my sweet baby saying, "See momma.  It is a police officer, but I don't think he will arrest you."  I hate it when that happens.