Title: Now I Can Kiss That Career In The NBA Goodbye
From a 6'5", 230lb neanderthal upon being called for a charge on a 5'5", 120lb defender:
"That's why they call this church ball. Cause the refs don't know what they're doing (stomp, stomp, lots of under the breath cursing)"
Kudos to the wonderful refs, one of which was The King, for holding their ground and not getting upset by the insults. Their only payment for coming out each Saturday morning for 5 hours to be abused by every out of shape, blow hard Kobe Bryant wannabe in our stake is blessings in heaven.
FYI- it was a very obvious charge. Idiot.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Overheard At....Red Lobster
Title: No One Will Ever Love You As Much As I Do...
From an enormous man at the table south of ours, to his high school daughter sitting across from him:
"I love you but if anyone ever touches you I will kill them. I am not kidding. My life has gone downhill enough already".
From an enormous man at the table south of ours, to his high school daughter sitting across from him:
"I love you but if anyone ever touches you I will kill them. I am not kidding. My life has gone downhill enough already".
Just Wondering.....
*Why hasn't anyone ever called animal control on Curious George and Clifford the Big Red Dog?
*How do Emily Elizabeth's parents afford to feed a dog the size of a dinosaur?
*Is that the reason she's an only child?
*Why did they name her Emily Elizabeth? Did they watch Saved by the Bell and think "hey, that Tiffany Amber Thiessen's parents had a brillant solution to that quandry that's been plaguing us for 9 months now- how do we possibly pick between two cliche and overused names?". Let us not forget that it's entirely plausible they were inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Sarah Michelle Gellar. ( I bet both of their hits in Google search just went up 200% from those 2 sentences. You're welcome ladies. I'm always here to support the actresses of my youth who are now obsolete.)
*If The Man in the Yellow Hat's outfit translate to the real world? Would we see him on peopleofwalmart.com in black thigh high boots, yellow John Stockton shorts with a crystal belt buckle and a yellow off-the-shoulder tube top? Would the yellow hat now sport feathers and a tiger print rim?
*How has The Man in the Yellow Hat avoided multiple law suits for destruction of private property? I bet his neighbors have a petition circulating to get him and that stinky monkey evicted.
*Why do people act like the can understand and interpret George's monkey noises as language?
*If Curious George were to borrow Steve's "monkey translator" (from Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs), what would his first words be? Maybe "You bunch of stupid upright opposable thumbed freaks. How did you pass us up in the evolutionary chain?"
*Would Curious George then become a moderator for Fox News Channel?
*How do Emily Elizabeth's parents afford to feed a dog the size of a dinosaur?
*Is that the reason she's an only child?
*Why did they name her Emily Elizabeth? Did they watch Saved by the Bell and think "hey, that Tiffany Amber Thiessen's parents had a brillant solution to that quandry that's been plaguing us for 9 months now- how do we possibly pick between two cliche and overused names?". Let us not forget that it's entirely plausible they were inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer's Sarah Michelle Gellar. ( I bet both of their hits in Google search just went up 200% from those 2 sentences. You're welcome ladies. I'm always here to support the actresses of my youth who are now obsolete.)
*If The Man in the Yellow Hat's outfit translate to the real world? Would we see him on peopleofwalmart.com in black thigh high boots, yellow John Stockton shorts with a crystal belt buckle and a yellow off-the-shoulder tube top? Would the yellow hat now sport feathers and a tiger print rim?
*How has The Man in the Yellow Hat avoided multiple law suits for destruction of private property? I bet his neighbors have a petition circulating to get him and that stinky monkey evicted.
*Why do people act like the can understand and interpret George's monkey noises as language?
*If Curious George were to borrow Steve's "monkey translator" (from Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs), what would his first words be? Maybe "You bunch of stupid upright opposable thumbed freaks. How did you pass us up in the evolutionary chain?"
*Would Curious George then become a moderator for Fox News Channel?
Overheard At Walmart........
Title: Christmas in the Trailer Park
From a 4th or 5th grade boy to his mom to his mom, while looking for a Christmas gift:
"I want to get him a pumpkin pie and beer"
From a 4th or 5th grade boy to his mom to his mom, while looking for a Christmas gift:
"I want to get him a pumpkin pie and beer"
Thursday, January 28, 2010
You Can Kiss My Hieny January.......
I've decided that I'm going to quit apologising because all my posts of the new year have been so negative.
Does anyone really feel good in January??
Here in Utah it's cold, the sun rarely peeks through the inversion and they dark days are way too long. I have to force myself to leavet the house when the refrigerator is bare except for suspiciously smelling leftovers and cheese. On Sunday we were out of eggs and The King was almost ready to break the Sabbath because he wanted cookies so badly that he was teetering on the brink of madness.
I'm sure that when February finally arrives next week I will be transformed into a happy, content and motivated person again, but for now I'm just going to sulk for 3 more days. At least I know that misery loves compay- almost everyone I know says the January blahs have about done them in as well.
At least the snow is finally melted off the grass in my front yard. The foot that won't leave in the backyard is a constant irritation though.
Stupid January. You suck.
(PS. Thank you, Peopleofwalmart.com, for making me laugh really, really hard for the first time in probably a week. You should be required reading for the winter depressed).
Does anyone really feel good in January??
Here in Utah it's cold, the sun rarely peeks through the inversion and they dark days are way too long. I have to force myself to leavet the house when the refrigerator is bare except for suspiciously smelling leftovers and cheese. On Sunday we were out of eggs and The King was almost ready to break the Sabbath because he wanted cookies so badly that he was teetering on the brink of madness.
I'm sure that when February finally arrives next week I will be transformed into a happy, content and motivated person again, but for now I'm just going to sulk for 3 more days. At least I know that misery loves compay- almost everyone I know says the January blahs have about done them in as well.
At least the snow is finally melted off the grass in my front yard. The foot that won't leave in the backyard is a constant irritation though.
Stupid January. You suck.
(PS. Thank you, Peopleofwalmart.com, for making me laugh really, really hard for the first time in probably a week. You should be required reading for the winter depressed).
Monday, January 25, 2010
Also......
Did I mention insomnia blows??? It's 2:24 in the freaking morning.
Why can't my brain stop thinking and thinking......
Blasted thoughts. And stress. And problems. And life.
Why can't my brain stop thinking and thinking......
Blasted thoughts. And stress. And problems. And life.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
It's My Blog and I'll Whine If I Want To..
I have lots of feelings that I just need to get off my chest, so to save my poor husband from the pain of a good venting session I'm going to do it here.
Boy I'm whiny lately!
This week has blown. Not only has it blown, it's sucked too. Sucked huge boulders.
The King had an awful week at work. On a good day his job is manageably stressful but when it comes to a new code roll out week it's just an agonizing, eating your fingernails to stubs, buying stock in the Tums corp. kind of stress. On top of that, the code for another extremely important product got all fubbed up after it was "supposedly" cleaned up this summer so that amounted to 2 days of nightmare fixes that wouldn't work and a last minute hail mary that finally saved the day. The King deserved every minute of rest he's gotten this weekend, not that it was much, and needs about 3 more days of sleep to get his mojo back.
Man Child is sick again. Oh joy.
My uncle has now been fighting his cancer for almost a year. He's responding well to his new chemo regiment- the 6 tumors in his lung have not grown- but the side effects are kicking his butt. This week the family found out that my aunt has cancer as well. My heart breaks for her and her family. She is one of the strongest and most determined women I have ever had the blessing of knowing, so I know she's going to be a fighter.
I've had to ground TQ from almost every electronic device in her arsenal. She is not happy with me. Add to the grounding that she has a horrible tooth ache and the earliest I could get her in to the denist is this Wednesday and you have all the ingredients for a perfectly miserable teen.
My newest nephew got admitted to PCMC last night with RSV. He is so tiny, and his poor little body was having to work so hard to breathe. The prognosis is good, but he'll have to be in the hospital for a few days. My poor brother and his wife have 4 other sick kids at home, one of which is Man Child's BFF Oakie-Dokie who has pneumonia. Please say a prayer for this little family tat everyone will get better soon.
Now for me. I am stressed out and frazzled by life this week. The constant snow/cold/inversion invading our fine state has not helped. The recital hall that I have used for years is massively overbooked so I had to push my recital to June. One of my students broke my piano pedal. Sometime during the Christmas holiday MC was playing downstairs with Fox and got into my stuido, found my EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE, EXTREMELY UNIQUE flute and decided to assemble it-causing untold amounts of damage- then throw it back into the drawer where I just found it on Monday. I want a time out from life, but running away never helps anything. Sometimes being an adult really stinks.
Stinks like BYU.
See, my sense of humor is coming back. Venting really did help.
Boy I'm whiny lately!
This week has blown. Not only has it blown, it's sucked too. Sucked huge boulders.
The King had an awful week at work. On a good day his job is manageably stressful but when it comes to a new code roll out week it's just an agonizing, eating your fingernails to stubs, buying stock in the Tums corp. kind of stress. On top of that, the code for another extremely important product got all fubbed up after it was "supposedly" cleaned up this summer so that amounted to 2 days of nightmare fixes that wouldn't work and a last minute hail mary that finally saved the day. The King deserved every minute of rest he's gotten this weekend, not that it was much, and needs about 3 more days of sleep to get his mojo back.
Man Child is sick again. Oh joy.
My uncle has now been fighting his cancer for almost a year. He's responding well to his new chemo regiment- the 6 tumors in his lung have not grown- but the side effects are kicking his butt. This week the family found out that my aunt has cancer as well. My heart breaks for her and her family. She is one of the strongest and most determined women I have ever had the blessing of knowing, so I know she's going to be a fighter.
I've had to ground TQ from almost every electronic device in her arsenal. She is not happy with me. Add to the grounding that she has a horrible tooth ache and the earliest I could get her in to the denist is this Wednesday and you have all the ingredients for a perfectly miserable teen.
My newest nephew got admitted to PCMC last night with RSV. He is so tiny, and his poor little body was having to work so hard to breathe. The prognosis is good, but he'll have to be in the hospital for a few days. My poor brother and his wife have 4 other sick kids at home, one of which is Man Child's BFF Oakie-Dokie who has pneumonia. Please say a prayer for this little family tat everyone will get better soon.
Now for me. I am stressed out and frazzled by life this week. The constant snow/cold/inversion invading our fine state has not helped. The recital hall that I have used for years is massively overbooked so I had to push my recital to June. One of my students broke my piano pedal. Sometime during the Christmas holiday MC was playing downstairs with Fox and got into my stuido, found my EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE, EXTREMELY UNIQUE flute and decided to assemble it-causing untold amounts of damage- then throw it back into the drawer where I just found it on Monday. I want a time out from life, but running away never helps anything. Sometimes being an adult really stinks.
Stinks like BYU.
See, my sense of humor is coming back. Venting really did help.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Just A Little Bit More Venting Before I Turn In....
It's been a long day.
*Fox has started texting and calling his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, casual acquaintances, etc..... in an effort to stave off going to sleep. Unfortunately he's enlisted the help of his three year old brother, undoubtedly because he thinks the "cute toddler voice" will help keep the recipients of these nightly undercover activities from alerting his parents from their occurrence.
Grandma Wheezer narced him out today. She insisted that the 10:30 pm calls were "so fun and sweet", but I know that by that time of night my parentals have shut down the house down like Fort Knox, climbed into bed and cozied into the 85 pounds of quilts and flannel sheets, donned their matching Darth Vader breathing masks and are well on their way to Lala land.
So if you get a call from Fox after 9 at night, please don't answer it. Cute as he may be, you'd only be perpetuating the cycle of late nights, early morning alarms that are ignored, refusals to wake up, oneryness and petulance while dressing, and almost being late for school. If you want a good chuckle though, call his cell while he's in school and listen to his voice mail. CUTEST MESSAGE EVER - seriously, I made him promise to keep it forever so that I can always remember his sweet, tender 9 year old voice.
*Ten months ago The King decided to conquer the weight that he'd gradually accumulated over the last 18 years since he graduated from high school. Today he weighed in at his lowest weight, exactly 70 pounds lighter than when he began the journey. I am so proud of him, but I think he's gone about as low as he can without looking manorexic. The man has the best metabolism- he can down three McD's cones in a day and still lose weight.
Jerk
But I love him anyways.
*TQ- see previous post. It will introduce you to the loveliness and ray of sunshine that is a 7th grade female.
And to top it all off, I would be errant if I forgot my Stellar Parenting Moment of the day:
Kill me, just kill me now: Man Child was HEINOUS at TQ's basketball game this evening. They had to stop the game in the 4th quarter when he ran onto the court. In all fairness, he did just want to play, and the firetruck we tried to distract him with was pretty lame, but it was one of those "who's out of control child is that?" moments where you just want to duck your head, throw the kid under you arm and slither away in disgrace.
So that was my day. How was yours????
Semi-retraction: I'm sure that by tomorrow morning I will feel very badly about the negative and sarcastic tone of the last two posts, and really regret blogging in the heat of the moment when my reactions and emotions are completely irrational due the estrogen bubbling into every pore of my body, but for tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace of mind that comes from a good verbal vomiting session.
*Fox has started texting and calling his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, casual acquaintances, etc..... in an effort to stave off going to sleep. Unfortunately he's enlisted the help of his three year old brother, undoubtedly because he thinks the "cute toddler voice" will help keep the recipients of these nightly undercover activities from alerting his parents from their occurrence.
Grandma Wheezer narced him out today. She insisted that the 10:30 pm calls were "so fun and sweet", but I know that by that time of night my parentals have shut down the house down like Fort Knox, climbed into bed and cozied into the 85 pounds of quilts and flannel sheets, donned their matching Darth Vader breathing masks and are well on their way to Lala land.
So if you get a call from Fox after 9 at night, please don't answer it. Cute as he may be, you'd only be perpetuating the cycle of late nights, early morning alarms that are ignored, refusals to wake up, oneryness and petulance while dressing, and almost being late for school. If you want a good chuckle though, call his cell while he's in school and listen to his voice mail. CUTEST MESSAGE EVER - seriously, I made him promise to keep it forever so that I can always remember his sweet, tender 9 year old voice.
*Ten months ago The King decided to conquer the weight that he'd gradually accumulated over the last 18 years since he graduated from high school. Today he weighed in at his lowest weight, exactly 70 pounds lighter than when he began the journey. I am so proud of him, but I think he's gone about as low as he can without looking manorexic. The man has the best metabolism- he can down three McD's cones in a day and still lose weight.
Jerk
But I love him anyways.
*TQ- see previous post. It will introduce you to the loveliness and ray of sunshine that is a 7th grade female.
And to top it all off, I would be errant if I forgot my Stellar Parenting Moment of the day:
Kill me, just kill me now: Man Child was HEINOUS at TQ's basketball game this evening. They had to stop the game in the 4th quarter when he ran onto the court. In all fairness, he did just want to play, and the firetruck we tried to distract him with was pretty lame, but it was one of those "who's out of control child is that?" moments where you just want to duck your head, throw the kid under you arm and slither away in disgrace.
So that was my day. How was yours????
Semi-retraction: I'm sure that by tomorrow morning I will feel very badly about the negative and sarcastic tone of the last two posts, and really regret blogging in the heat of the moment when my reactions and emotions are completely irrational due the estrogen bubbling into every pore of my body, but for tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace of mind that comes from a good verbal vomiting session.
You Wanna Marry My Daughter?
Almost 13 years ago I gave birth to a pretty prime piece of livestock.
Before you start screaming "How can this woman call her daughter a COW? Where's the number for Child Services??" (I mean you mom-put down the phone), let me explain.
My Grandpa was a farmer (wow, did anyone else just have a Robert Redford in The Natural deja vu moments??)- a dairy farmer to be specific. I learned at a very young age to respect the cow. That 1/2 of ton of milking power was the difference between being fed and clothed and living on the street. Grandpa payed big time $$$$ for the best bred heifers, knowing the return on his investment would be worth every cent.
So back to my daughter. TQ is my prime heifer. I didn't have to pay much to "acquire" her (although at the time being really, really poor college students the $1500 we shelled to the good doctors and staff at the U of U Hospital seemed like $10,000), though some may consider the serious water retention and an epidural that didn't work as payment enough. But my TQ was definitely the pick of the litter (as verified by The King- she was undoubtedly the cutest baby in the nursery (I created it to my superior Latin genetics)). She's only gotten better with time. She's extremely smart, funny, sociable, kind and loving. Oh, and she's not too bad looking either.
As mother to such a prodigy, I should be on cloud nine. But the past few months our TQ has entered a stage that has her father and I wanting to switch to homeschooling and locking her in her room until college.
The giggly, on the phone for hours at a time, writing 1000 notes to friends a day, crying over boy drama, parents are stupid and overbearing stage.
In essence, Teenager Life.
Life sucks for the bystanders of the unfortunate wreck that the teenage existence.
The King and I have been relegated to the job of chauffeur and ATM. Fox and MC are nuisances and burdens. The world- nay, all 24 hours in the day- revolves around the ups and downs of Her life. As I sit here writing, I am waiting for the call to pick her up from her latest after-school, student government obligation- which I am so glad she's involved in, I just don't like the "it's more important than anything else than anyone else in the family has going on" attitude. Once she's home I guarantee she'll asking to go on Facebook within 5 minutes from crossing the doorway.
So are the days of our lives.
Over the last few days (specifically it began on Tuesday after she wore my new boots for the second time without asking then had the gall to call me out for taking some gum that was left on the counter) I've really been contemplating the wisdom in arranged marriage. As I can see it, there are overwhelming benefits of the institution. First, the issue of boy drama, of who likes who and who is "going out" with who, immediately becomes a non-issue. Dating- not going to happen. The teenage years will fly by in a drama-free bliss. Then, for the icing on the cake, I get to pick the perfect son-in-law. Here's an early draft of the ad I'm thinking of taking out:
"Mom looking for future son-in-law from a good family with a high credit score, college degree(s), and current temple recommend. Future mother-in-law promises to not be overbearing, controlling or obsessive, and pledges grandchildren babysitting services at least bi-monthly if not more. Future wife is beauty and perfection incarnate and guaranteed to go fast so don't sit idly by while you future slips through your fingers"
Is the perfection thing too much? I thought about saying "she's a solid 9", or "3.5 stars out of 4" but I didn't want to risk future mate over analyzing what her flaws may be. There's plenty of time to get to know all of those after he puts the ring on.
Well, there's the call- gotta go get her Highness. But I'm showing her- I'm making her cross the street in the fog and with gym clothes in hand, and walk 50 feet to meet me. Take that princess!
(okay, now everyone put down your phone. I'm not really selling off my daughter. She is wonderful and I love her until the end of time plus a couple of extra days. I just need a day off from being Mom. And by the way- it was actually 4 minutes from foot in door to Facebook IMing).
Before you start screaming "How can this woman call her daughter a COW? Where's the number for Child Services??" (I mean you mom-put down the phone), let me explain.
My Grandpa was a farmer (wow, did anyone else just have a Robert Redford in The Natural deja vu moments??)- a dairy farmer to be specific. I learned at a very young age to respect the cow. That 1/2 of ton of milking power was the difference between being fed and clothed and living on the street. Grandpa payed big time $$$$ for the best bred heifers, knowing the return on his investment would be worth every cent.
So back to my daughter. TQ is my prime heifer. I didn't have to pay much to "acquire" her (although at the time being really, really poor college students the $1500 we shelled to the good doctors and staff at the U of U Hospital seemed like $10,000), though some may consider the serious water retention and an epidural that didn't work as payment enough. But my TQ was definitely the pick of the litter (as verified by The King- she was undoubtedly the cutest baby in the nursery (I created it to my superior Latin genetics)). She's only gotten better with time. She's extremely smart, funny, sociable, kind and loving. Oh, and she's not too bad looking either.
As mother to such a prodigy, I should be on cloud nine. But the past few months our TQ has entered a stage that has her father and I wanting to switch to homeschooling and locking her in her room until college.
The giggly, on the phone for hours at a time, writing 1000 notes to friends a day, crying over boy drama, parents are stupid and overbearing stage.
In essence, Teenager Life.
Life sucks for the bystanders of the unfortunate wreck that the teenage existence.
The King and I have been relegated to the job of chauffeur and ATM. Fox and MC are nuisances and burdens. The world- nay, all 24 hours in the day- revolves around the ups and downs of Her life. As I sit here writing, I am waiting for the call to pick her up from her latest after-school, student government obligation- which I am so glad she's involved in, I just don't like the "it's more important than anything else than anyone else in the family has going on" attitude. Once she's home I guarantee she'll asking to go on Facebook within 5 minutes from crossing the doorway.
So are the days of our lives.
Over the last few days (specifically it began on Tuesday after she wore my new boots for the second time without asking then had the gall to call me out for taking some gum that was left on the counter) I've really been contemplating the wisdom in arranged marriage. As I can see it, there are overwhelming benefits of the institution. First, the issue of boy drama, of who likes who and who is "going out" with who, immediately becomes a non-issue. Dating- not going to happen. The teenage years will fly by in a drama-free bliss. Then, for the icing on the cake, I get to pick the perfect son-in-law. Here's an early draft of the ad I'm thinking of taking out:
"Mom looking for future son-in-law from a good family with a high credit score, college degree(s), and current temple recommend. Future mother-in-law promises to not be overbearing, controlling or obsessive, and pledges grandchildren babysitting services at least bi-monthly if not more. Future wife is beauty and perfection incarnate and guaranteed to go fast so don't sit idly by while you future slips through your fingers"
Is the perfection thing too much? I thought about saying "she's a solid 9", or "3.5 stars out of 4" but I didn't want to risk future mate over analyzing what her flaws may be. There's plenty of time to get to know all of those after he puts the ring on.
Well, there's the call- gotta go get her Highness. But I'm showing her- I'm making her cross the street in the fog and with gym clothes in hand, and walk 50 feet to meet me. Take that princess!
(okay, now everyone put down your phone. I'm not really selling off my daughter. She is wonderful and I love her until the end of time plus a couple of extra days. I just need a day off from being Mom. And by the way- it was actually 4 minutes from foot in door to Facebook IMing).
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Oops, Did I Just Say That Out Loud??
Stellar parenting moment of the Day: (said to The Man Child, not 30 seconds ago- aka. "the moment he will look to later in life as the beginning of the emotional scars that have held him back socially, emotionally and personally")
You are annoying
Yeah, I suck. Sorry kiddo.
You are annoying
Yeah, I suck. Sorry kiddo.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sorry Conan, But I Already Pinkie Swore My allegiance To Jimmy
I bet you've all been waiting on the edge of your seats to find out where I stand on the Leno vs. Conan situation.
You're patience will now be rewarded.
Leno or Conan, Jay or O'Brien, old or kind of old...... what to choose, what to choose???
Neither. I pick Jimmy Fallon.
Fallon is fresh, current, and reminds me of the glory days of SNL when Tina Fey was at the writing helm. His spoof of the Twilight/Rob Patz phenom and "The Real Housewives" series are brilliant. Add in that he has the only real band in all of late night (the amazing Roots) and you have the best talk show on all of television.
My apologies to Letterman, who was blatantly left out of the entire debate. When he stops having Regis or Kelly Rippa on every third night I might toss him a bone and throw his name back into the running for best baby-boomer entertainer.
Update: Jimmy had a Beatle on last night. For the entire show. If that was the only card he held in his deck he'd still win the hand. But, don't be too sad Leno fans- you've still got Ross the Intern.
You're patience will now be rewarded.
Leno or Conan, Jay or O'Brien, old or kind of old...... what to choose, what to choose???
Neither. I pick Jimmy Fallon.
Fallon is fresh, current, and reminds me of the glory days of SNL when Tina Fey was at the writing helm. His spoof of the Twilight/Rob Patz phenom and "The Real Housewives" series are brilliant. Add in that he has the only real band in all of late night (the amazing Roots) and you have the best talk show on all of television.
My apologies to Letterman, who was blatantly left out of the entire debate. When he stops having Regis or Kelly Rippa on every third night I might toss him a bone and throw his name back into the running for best baby-boomer entertainer.
Update: Jimmy had a Beatle on last night. For the entire show. If that was the only card he held in his deck he'd still win the hand. But, don't be too sad Leno fans- you've still got Ross the Intern.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Lest I Got Too Serious A Moment Ago and Now You Are Considering Never Reading This Pointless Blog Again...
So that levity may return to my happy little blog, this also just came in:
(this is real- I mean real, real. Got it right of KSL)
"APNewsBreak: Mark McGwire admits using steroids"
Can I hear a big ol' DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(this is real- I mean real, real. Got it right of KSL)
"APNewsBreak: Mark McGwire admits using steroids"
Can I hear a big ol' DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Reason #1000 That I Will Never Consider Fox News "News"
This just in from the AP:
"Sarah Palin takes Fox News commentator job".
I have never and probably will never get political on this blog. I am content with my political views and do not feel it necessary to defend them to anyone. So people enjoy this kind of debate; I abhor it. But when I saw this headline I just HAD to post it so that it might go down in history (my own personal history) as the day I said good bye and good riddance to Fox news forever. Glen Beck inspired me to go out and buy the "Fox news" coffin but this slams the lid and seals it shut.
Hold the presses, this headline just came in over the wire:
"Crazed Utah blogger/housewife reveals that you CAN in fact be a good Mormon and completely disagree with Glen Beck".
Hear that silence? It's the world NOT coming to an end :)
"Sarah Palin takes Fox News commentator job".
I have never and probably will never get political on this blog. I am content with my political views and do not feel it necessary to defend them to anyone. So people enjoy this kind of debate; I abhor it. But when I saw this headline I just HAD to post it so that it might go down in history (my own personal history) as the day I said good bye and good riddance to Fox news forever. Glen Beck inspired me to go out and buy the "Fox news" coffin but this slams the lid and seals it shut.
Hold the presses, this headline just came in over the wire:
"Crazed Utah blogger/housewife reveals that you CAN in fact be a good Mormon and completely disagree with Glen Beck".
Hear that silence? It's the world NOT coming to an end :)
To Brighten Your Day:
The King just called me to let me know it's been a world class shizzy, anal cavity of a day.
I'm not a member of the corporate world, but I think I understand days when if one more person comes to you with one more problem your head might just explode.
It just so happens I that I have 2 little ditties that might help brighten the dreary, world-worn day:
1) As seen on my favorite vet's sign- spied on the way to get a half-off Route 44 Diet Coke at Sonic (which I drove an extra 10 minutes to get, and probably spent more in gas than the $1 I saved in Happy Hour):
"I got a dog for my husband. Great trade"
2) The Man Child decided to try out shaving today in the shower while I was getting some clean clothes from the laundry room. He now has 1/2 of a right eye brown and a scab from nicking himself. Fox's eyebrow has just grown back in from his own attempt to save a few months ago, so it's nice that they timed their trysts back-to-back like that.
I'd post a picture of his work, but that would require getting up.
I'm not a member of the corporate world, but I think I understand days when if one more person comes to you with one more problem your head might just explode.
It just so happens I that I have 2 little ditties that might help brighten the dreary, world-worn day:
1) As seen on my favorite vet's sign- spied on the way to get a half-off Route 44 Diet Coke at Sonic (which I drove an extra 10 minutes to get, and probably spent more in gas than the $1 I saved in Happy Hour):
"I got a dog for my husband. Great trade"
2) The Man Child decided to try out shaving today in the shower while I was getting some clean clothes from the laundry room. He now has 1/2 of a right eye brown and a scab from nicking himself. Fox's eyebrow has just grown back in from his own attempt to save a few months ago, so it's nice that they timed their trysts back-to-back like that.
I'd post a picture of his work, but that would require getting up.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Brain Washing
Tonight while I was lounging in bed nursing a cold (cough, cough, wiping hand across nose), I decided to take the opportunity to sit the Man Child down for a session of "gentle parenting persuasion". On the syllabus for tonight- convincing the MC that I am and should always be #1 in his life.
It went a little something like this:
Mom: Repeat after me son (to which he dutifully complied)
"I love my Mommy"
"My Mommy is the best"
"My Mommy is my best friend"
"I will love her forever and forever"
"I will never love anyone more than my Mommy"
"I promise that I will take care of my Mommy when she is old"
"I will change her diaper for her when she can no longer go to the potty on her own"
I was really enjoying this bonding moment until TQ interjected that I was brain washing him (hey, there were no water boards involved) and therefore these profusions of love really didn't hold much weight.
No, no I protested. I was only helping him verbalize what he felt inside but until this moment could not find words to express. Couldn't she see the adoration in his eyes? The way he clung to me as if my hug could save him from all the ills of the world?
Then the sound of the garage door slowly opening interrupted our bonding moment. The Man Child squealed with delight "daddy's home" and jumped off the bed with such speed and agility you would have thought he was chasing a chicken nugget on a stick.
I didn't see the reunion but I am sure if it was played out on film there would have been a shot of them running in slow motion to each other, arms splayed wide, silent tears running down their faces, as if they had been apart for years and were finally reunited through the magic of the Internet and Dateline investigators.
Irony is so cruel.
It went a little something like this:
Mom: Repeat after me son (to which he dutifully complied)
"I love my Mommy"
"My Mommy is the best"
"My Mommy is my best friend"
"I will love her forever and forever"
"I will never love anyone more than my Mommy"
"I promise that I will take care of my Mommy when she is old"
"I will change her diaper for her when she can no longer go to the potty on her own"
I was really enjoying this bonding moment until TQ interjected that I was brain washing him (hey, there were no water boards involved) and therefore these profusions of love really didn't hold much weight.
No, no I protested. I was only helping him verbalize what he felt inside but until this moment could not find words to express. Couldn't she see the adoration in his eyes? The way he clung to me as if my hug could save him from all the ills of the world?
Then the sound of the garage door slowly opening interrupted our bonding moment. The Man Child squealed with delight "daddy's home" and jumped off the bed with such speed and agility you would have thought he was chasing a chicken nugget on a stick.
I didn't see the reunion but I am sure if it was played out on film there would have been a shot of them running in slow motion to each other, arms splayed wide, silent tears running down their faces, as if they had been apart for years and were finally reunited through the magic of the Internet and Dateline investigators.
Irony is so cruel.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Whoever Said Watching Football Was Boring Wasn't Listening Closely Enough!
Overheard last night during the Alabama, Texas "national Championship" (don't get me started on what a joke the BCS bowl system is) game, which The King was watching and I was ignoring while stalking much wittier and funnier blogs:
"Balls in the air!!!!"
Thank you random Sugar bowl commentator for making me giggle.
And no. I'm not really a 15 year old boy posing as a lame middle aged housewife online. "Ball" humor surpasses age or gender.
"Balls in the air!!!!"
Thank you random Sugar bowl commentator for making me giggle.
And no. I'm not really a 15 year old boy posing as a lame middle aged housewife online. "Ball" humor surpasses age or gender.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Letter To The Food Gods....
Oh food deity, why dost thou tempt me?
I have spurned the flesh of animal.
Turned away from the dairy delights.
No fried food will pass my lips,
nor fermented fruit or barley.
Why, why, then must thou persecute me so?
Of the grains of the field I freely eat,
and enjoy their natural goodness.
But to a grainer and processor they must go,
to be tossed and turned with sweet nectar
to form the nutriment,
the bane of my existence,
the last temptation of a healthy soul,
Cereal .
Reese Puffs, your sinful goodness doth make a strong mind weak,
and a olympian willpower waver.
One bowl, nay. It must be two.
My mind doth protest but my belly cries "More, more, more!"
I confess my weakness, and ask for absolition-
from the calories that sit squarely on my hips
A sinner I am
In penance I will worship at the altar of nutrition.
May I please start tomorrow??????
There's still a cup full left in the box,
and a provident man waste not, want not.
Sincerely,
An ashamed, but fully intending on sinning again,
Loma
I have spurned the flesh of animal.
Turned away from the dairy delights.
No fried food will pass my lips,
nor fermented fruit or barley.
Why, why, then must thou persecute me so?
Of the grains of the field I freely eat,
and enjoy their natural goodness.
But to a grainer and processor they must go,
to be tossed and turned with sweet nectar
to form the nutriment,
the bane of my existence,
the last temptation of a healthy soul,
Cereal .
Reese Puffs, your sinful goodness doth make a strong mind weak,
and a olympian willpower waver.
One bowl, nay. It must be two.
My mind doth protest but my belly cries "More, more, more!"
I confess my weakness, and ask for absolition-
from the calories that sit squarely on my hips
A sinner I am
In penance I will worship at the altar of nutrition.
May I please start tomorrow??????
There's still a cup full left in the box,
and a provident man waste not, want not.
Sincerely,
An ashamed, but fully intending on sinning again,
Loma
A Tale of Two Bones....
I've been holding off on posting the tale of our New Years Day drama as long as I possibly could. Not because I'm procrastinating (usually I freely admit that I am a gold medalist procrastinator), but because I really just didn't want to go there again.
However, I just vowed two posts ago to be a better blogger. To record the great moments of mi familia for posterity.
Boy do I have a whopper for them.
But as much as I don't want to relive the last 5 days I must before the memory fades and the details blur.
Fox's great-grandchildren better thank me.
We had a fantastically fun New Years Eve at my parent's house with my siblings and their children. We played games into the wee hours of the morning. Even the kids were up until their eyelids couldn't hold open any longer. Fox and his bestie cousin Tanner wore out everyone else, and were only trumped by The King who was dealing with a server and etl failure for one of their clients until 4:45 am (for those of you who don't speak computer geek, something stupid broke in the 'puter code).
Despite being awake most of the night, these two boys were up early playing. They only stopped to enjoy the delish breakfast/meat fest that Grandma and auntie Fancy made. After eating all the grandkids went downstairs to the "grand kids room" to play. I headed for the shower to was off the scent of bacon that had decided to leech to my hair (why oh why, does meat have to smell so bad? Is it any wonder I gave the stuff up at 14????). Having scoured my head until it hurt to make sure no pig fat residue remained, I was just getting out of the shower when The King knocked on the door and yelled "Fox fell off the bunk beds and won't stop crying. It's been 30 minutes (yes, it was a long shower). You need to look at his arm."
I immediately knew it was bad. Fox doesn't cry for longer than 20 seconds when he gets hurt. Normally a kiss and hug from mom, followed by a band aid if necessary, is all to make Fox wipe away the tears and get right back to playing. I went upstairs and he was sitting on the couch with his right wrist wrapped in a ice pack. I was hesitant to look under the wrap. When our dog Bella broke her leg years ago and I saw the bone trying to punch it's way out of the skin I almost fainted. Fortunately, Fox's arm and wrist looked normal but swollen. Still, he would not stop crying so we decided to take him to Instacare.
At Instacare we had to wait approx. 20 minutes before being seen. Fox had stopped crying on the way over but was turning a sickly shade of grey. I think he was in shock from the pain. When he started heaving I knew he was either going to throw up or faint. The King got him a barf back and he dry heaved into it and then slumped onto The King. Just at that moment they called him back but he was so wobbly we had to hold him up to get into the room.
The doctor examined him and ordered x-rays. If you've ever had x-rays you know they have to move your hurt appendage around A LOT to get the view they want for diagnosis. Fox cried through the process, which was thankfully pretty short. It was very obvious from the x-rays that Fox had broken both the radius and the ulna at the wrist. Because the arm would swell for 2 or 3 days, they put a splint on him and directed us to get him in to an orthopedic specialist on Monday for casting.
Once Fox had the splint on and his wrist was isolated he felt 1000 times better. We took him home and kept his arm elevated for the rest of the day. He spent the entire weekend in the sling, but was able to play and get up and around with no problem.
Here are some pictures from Instacare:
(In the waiting room trying not to pass out.)
(Getting x-rays.)
(Splint on and feeling much better.)On Monday morning I called to see if I could get an appointment with the orthopedist but they could not fit him in. Apparently the long holiday weekend put them way behind so the earliest I could get him in would be Tuesday at 10. I took him to school with orders to take it easy and leave his sling on but I still got a call from the office to pick him up around 12:30. Apparently he had gone out to recess and slipped on a snow pile and fell. Smack on his arm.
Wonderful.
In the movie Sound of Music the older, matronly nuns sing a song about their frustrations with Fraulein Maria. In it they ask "How do you catch a cloud and pin it down".
This song sprang into my head while driving over to get Fox. It was inevitable that he'd fall. If I was a betting gal I would have made a mint on the odds that he's get hurt again. Fox just can't stay still. His favorite part of school is recess and gym. Despite my pleadings and threats he went ahead and, well, acted like a normal 9 year old boy.
Frustrating, but not something I was going to make him feel bad about.
Tuesday morning dawned with the excitement that the splint would be off and a cast would replace it. A red cast for the University of Utah. A cast that his friends could draw all over. Fox was stoked. Mom was stoked that his fragile arm would be better protected and less vulnerable. The only person not excited was the Man CHild, who woke up in a rare crappy mood (mornings are usually his best time of day) and showing the signs of an oncoming cold (ie. snotty nose and cracky voice).
True to form, the doctor's office was extremely behind so I did my best to entertain MC all while being surrounded by 10-15 retirees in for their arthritis appointments (I'm not kidding here. I was the only adult under 50 in the waiting room). After fighting with MC for 40 minutes, Fox was finally called back. He had to have more x-rays taken, then we were shown to the casting room. The nurse came in and asked me if I had seen the x-rays before. I answered that I had on the day of the injury. She looked at me strangely and then directed me to the computer where the new scans were on screen. She asked "did they look like this?". Now, I've viewed about 4 x-rays total in my life and found them hard to decipher and slightly creepy, but the gigantic bend in his bone staring right at us would be obvious to a two year old.
What the CRAP?????
It was pretty obvious that either our Instacare Dr. missed a huge diagnosis or his fall at school did a lot of damage but didn't hurt. I'm going with the first case as more likely. His radius had been displaced, which basically means that the broken bone has moved backwards and was sticking out. Like my dog. Who made my faint.....
Oh no.
Fortunately with all the swelling you couldn't really see the warped bone, but it was obvious on the x-ray. It looked like a crooked finger. The doctor came in as we were looking at it and asked me the same question- hadn't they told us that the bone was displaced? I asked him what he needed to do- it was pretty clear that they couldn't just cast his arm and leave it at that. He said that he could get the bone back in place manually, but wrapping Fox's arm in plaster and then pushing the bone back and holding it in place while the plaster dried around it. The process would take 2 or 3 minutes.
Oh, did I forget to mention that he'd do it without pain medication??????????
That's right. He was going to re-break my son's stinking arm right there without knocking him out first.
I think he could tell I was not happy with THAT scenario, so he offered to send Fox over to the hospital next door to get an IV then be sedated by the on-call anaesthesiologist, but that would take a 2-3 minutes procedure and turn it into an hour long one. I presented both options to Fox and left it up to him. The kid is so brave. Without hesitating he said "mom, let's just get it over with". I think the fear of the IV (which he knows all to well from being an retinitis pigmentosa guinea pig) overwhelmed the fear of the unknown pain of bone replacement.
Sure to his words, the doctor moved quickly and had the bone in place in a matter of seconds. The ensuing two minutes where he held the wrist at a 45 degree angle to keep the bone in place while the plaster dried were agony for Fox. He screamed so loudly I'm sure the entire floor of the building could hear him. His cries scared MC, who I was holding one arm while holding Fox's good hand in the other. MC yelled at the doctor over and over "Let go Fox" while tears poured down his face. It was so touching to see MC's protective instinct take over, and the empathy he had for his brother's pain. Seeing my son in horrible agony was one of the worst moments of my life. I never, ever want to see that look on his face again or hear that kind of pain in his voice.
After the plaster set up the doctor sent Fox to x-ray to make sure the bone was aligned. He was weak and wobbly from the pain, but like the brave trooper he is went in with no complaint. The x-rays looked good so they sent him back to get a full arm cast. It turned out to be the most awkward looking cast I've ever seen. His wrist in set at 45 degrees, his elbow locked at 90 degrees- it looks malformed. I was given instructions to keep him down for 2-3 days with his arm elevated above his heart (to keep swelling down and circulation moving) and absolutely no movement. He could try to go back to school after that but could not participate in any physical activity whatsoever, and the mutant cast had to be in a sling with his wrist up by the opposite shoulder at all times when he wasn't laying down.
It's now Thursday and with much hesitancy I took him to school today. We were an hour late getting there because it took him so long to get up and moving and ready, but he has been so bored at home I couldn't justify keeping him cooped up here. I have my phone sitting by my side just waiting for the call from the school that he's hurting and to pick him up, but maybe I'll be wrong and he'll make it through fine. He is the toughest kid I know. I just can't bear to think of him in pain again.
Whoever said that being a mom means wearing your heart on your sleeve was the smartest person to ever live.
Monday, January 4, 2010
And The World Is Right Again
After 2 weeks of mayhem and frivolity, order has once again been restored at La Casa de Loma.
Man Child is perched on his throne (aka mom's bed) watching PBS programming and drinking a nice sippy cup of milk. He's fought and lost the battles to (1) eat chips for breakfast and (2) eat breakfast on said throne. The diaper wipes have been dumped out and random cleaning of the armoire, tv and door handles has ensued.
All is well.
As much as MC loved having his siblings home for Christmas break, I think he was as ready for them to back to school as I was. At only 3 he has realised that when the older sibs are home he becomes the low Man on the totem pole. There are 2 more people to boss him around. Two more people to witness his crimes and then prosecute him in Mom's court. And most importantly, 2 more people to fight with for the remote.
So it's not really surprising that he fell right back into the pre-holiday routine effortlessly. What is shocking is that I kind of missed this morning battle of wills with him. Just now when he tried to smuggle a piece of bread into the bedroom for the third time I almost laughed. Almost.
Holy cow. He just rammed the entire thing in his mouth and is now standing in front of the tv chewing. Either this child is scary smart (as he figured out that I said "no food in the room" rather than "no eating in the room"- an important distinction)or he's just persistent and really loves food.
It's nice to have things back to normal.
Man Child is perched on his throne (aka mom's bed) watching PBS programming and drinking a nice sippy cup of milk. He's fought and lost the battles to (1) eat chips for breakfast and (2) eat breakfast on said throne. The diaper wipes have been dumped out and random cleaning of the armoire, tv and door handles has ensued.
All is well.
As much as MC loved having his siblings home for Christmas break, I think he was as ready for them to back to school as I was. At only 3 he has realised that when the older sibs are home he becomes the low Man on the totem pole. There are 2 more people to boss him around. Two more people to witness his crimes and then prosecute him in Mom's court. And most importantly, 2 more people to fight with for the remote.
So it's not really surprising that he fell right back into the pre-holiday routine effortlessly. What is shocking is that I kind of missed this morning battle of wills with him. Just now when he tried to smuggle a piece of bread into the bedroom for the third time I almost laughed. Almost.
Holy cow. He just rammed the entire thing in his mouth and is now standing in front of the tv chewing. Either this child is scary smart (as he figured out that I said "no food in the room" rather than "no eating in the room"- an important distinction)or he's just persistent and really loves food.
It's nice to have things back to normal.
Welcome 2010.....4 Days Late.
I have an issue.
Well, truthfully I have many issues but one that causes constant marital strife is my insistence that certain phrases and/or word combinations never be uttered in my home.
Words like Coca-cola. French fries. Milk shake. Chest of drawers. Chicken breast (it sounds so intentionally perverted. The chicken is dead. Do we really think that it cares what part of its' body was hacked up so we can make dinner.
What does this have to do with welcoming in the New Year? Nothing really, except that every time I turn on the tv or radio and hear the phrase "New Year resolution" I want to stick a red hot poker in my eye.
Needless to say, I'd rather be blistered and blind than participate in that New Year tradition.
Don't get me worng. I think it's great to make goals for yourself. For instance, I really want to be better about blogging regularly again. For Christmas The King had my blog published into a hardbound book. It is the most amazing, most personal gift anyone has ever given me. As I was flipping through it I realised with surprise and joy that unconcsciously I had written a 230 page journal over the past year. Then I was ashamed that the entries in the last 4 months have been so sparse. I owe it to my husband, children, and future grandchildren to keep writing so they know our history. I need to be less concerned about the writing process and just write for the enjoyment of capturing the important and not-so-important events in our life.
But I refuse to "resolve" to be a better blogger. One you commit to "resolving" you are on a path to destruction and self-loathing. New Years resolutions are so cliche because NO ONE KEEPS THEM!!!! Wouldn't it be better to say "I'm happy with my life, but I'd like to ...............". See, no commitment. No firm deadlines. No breakdown when you inevitably give up in a month or realise in June that you can't even remember what you "resolved" to do in January.
So, I love my life. I love my family. I'd like to be a better YW president, a better disciple of Christ, a better mother, wife, sister daughter and friend. I'm sure it won't happen immediately, and that I'll fail a lot. But at least I know that's what I'm working toward.
Hello 2010. It's going to be a great year!
Well, truthfully I have many issues but one that causes constant marital strife is my insistence that certain phrases and/or word combinations never be uttered in my home.
Words like Coca-cola. French fries. Milk shake. Chest of drawers. Chicken breast (it sounds so intentionally perverted. The chicken is dead. Do we really think that it cares what part of its' body was hacked up so we can make dinner.
What does this have to do with welcoming in the New Year? Nothing really, except that every time I turn on the tv or radio and hear the phrase "New Year resolution" I want to stick a red hot poker in my eye.
Needless to say, I'd rather be blistered and blind than participate in that New Year tradition.
Don't get me worng. I think it's great to make goals for yourself. For instance, I really want to be better about blogging regularly again. For Christmas The King had my blog published into a hardbound book. It is the most amazing, most personal gift anyone has ever given me. As I was flipping through it I realised with surprise and joy that unconcsciously I had written a 230 page journal over the past year. Then I was ashamed that the entries in the last 4 months have been so sparse. I owe it to my husband, children, and future grandchildren to keep writing so they know our history. I need to be less concerned about the writing process and just write for the enjoyment of capturing the important and not-so-important events in our life.
But I refuse to "resolve" to be a better blogger. One you commit to "resolving" you are on a path to destruction and self-loathing. New Years resolutions are so cliche because NO ONE KEEPS THEM!!!! Wouldn't it be better to say "I'm happy with my life, but I'd like to ...............". See, no commitment. No firm deadlines. No breakdown when you inevitably give up in a month or realise in June that you can't even remember what you "resolved" to do in January.
So, I love my life. I love my family. I'd like to be a better YW president, a better disciple of Christ, a better mother, wife, sister daughter and friend. I'm sure it won't happen immediately, and that I'll fail a lot. But at least I know that's what I'm working toward.
Hello 2010. It's going to be a great year!
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