Did That Really Just Happen?

Kate at One More Thing is doing a weekly carnival of sorts, choosing a topic for other bloggers to write about.  This Last week’s topic is “Did That Really Just Happen?”, but I’m apparently a week behind.  Sue me.

Kate’s life.  As of late.

That’s all I’ve got.




That’s how the e-mail from my sister-in law started.

Girl Scout Cookie Time.  A time I anticipate yearly with both glee and dread.  Glee because those yummy Tagalongs and Thin Mints call out to me, and my taste buds are all a-twitter.

Dread because my ass doesn’t need them.  At all.

Still, in the spirit of supporting my wonderful niece I shall sacrifice my ass.

I can’t see it anyway.

Posted in Funny. Tags: , , . 6 Comments »

You, Too, Can Buy a House in Florida for Under $20,000

I’ve already shared with you one of my favorite blogs – Cake Wrecks.  Wreckporters  scour their local supermarkets, and Flicker, looking for submissions.  I don’t know what it is about this area, but I’ve never seen a wreck in real life, except my godmother’s pile-of -poop-complete-with swarming-flies-wedding cake (oh yes, I wish I hadn’t packed away my photos in preparation for moving, don’t you?). It never ceases to make me laugh, and sometimes even guffaw.  Trust me, no one looks pretty when they guffaw.

A few weeks ago a friend turned me onto another site that has made it’s way into my reader.  It’s a similar type theme blog, but instead of Cake Wrecks it features house listing wrecks.   It’s Lovely!  I’ll Take It! posts listing photos that make you wonder at the  sanity – and commitment to selling – of the people who chose them as representations of their property.  I’ve seen things that no prospective home buyer should.

I was lucky enough to find a listing that was so vile for so many reasons (not the least of which is the nudie shot of the realtor on his website)  I had to submit it.  I’m happy but not surprised that they featured it today.

Go check it out, and while you’re there check out some of the archives.  And please, if you’re ever going to take photos of your bathroom in hopes of selling your house, please flush.

Holy Moly

This brought tears to my eyes.  I hope it does the same for you…

A Thanksgiving Kitchen Tip From Be This Way

If you have Tapioca mix that expired several months ago it’s fine if you don’t want to use it, especially when you are taking a chance of poisoning everyone at the Thanksgiving table.

What is decidedly NOT fine is Tapioca, so don’t even think of putting it down your garbage disposal, at least without running the water for a few moments to make sure it all gets through your pipes.

Why, you ask?

Well, Tapioca expands.  And if it’s sitting in the pipe under your sink it will turn into a solid mass the consistency of glue, and you will have your husband cursing you as he takes apart the garbage disposal to dig it out.

Just so you know.

But don’t worry about us.  Making up is always tres’ fun.

Just Call Me Grace

We were a little late leaving the house this morning. Son had his “late breakfast” in hand, consisting of an Oatmeal to Go bar and milk. He was directly behind me and I started to say, “We’re late, so let’s hurry and get into the car,” but before the word hurry got out of my mouth I stepped funny and got to experience that time-slowing phenomenon where you’re saying to yourself, “Oh, great. I’m falling. Don’t cry out! Son is seeing this! This is going to hurt. I’m sure I’m not looking pretty right now either. And Husband is really going to tease me! What am I making for dinner…, etc.” All this as I’m doing my best imitation of a porpoise bodysurfing on the driveway…

I lay there for a moment, checking to see if I have any excruciating pain that might indicate serious injury, and getting my head together. After all, Son had seen this happen and no matter how hurt I was my first priority was to make sure he wasn’t scared. So I said, “Whoops! I just went kaboom!”, which is what I always say to him when he falls. “My homework!” he answered, and I looked to see homework strewn about, and remembered I’d been carrying it. I wish he was so concerned about his homework when I was asking him to do it.

Before I could reply he asked, “Mommy, are you okay?” I assured him I was, and carefully got up. I didn’t even cuss. There was quite a bit of dirt, my knees were skinned but the most serious injury was to my dignity. Surprising, because I didn’t know I had any left. I thought it eloped with my pride. I think I’m all out of both now. I quickly went back inside and got a few bandaids, gathered the scattered homework and off we went to school.

That’s another of those quirky things about about motherhood. Son was my first thought. Protecting HIM. Even as I lay bleeding.

All in all I’m feeling lucky. Two years ago I fell in a full restaurant in the Bahamas, spraining my ankle and spending the rest of my vacation hobbling around. The time before that- six years ago – I slipped on a nut on a sidewalk and broke my elbow. Apparently I was even less graceful those times. Apparently when G-d was handing out grace I was too distracted over in the stubbornness line to notice.

Cake Wrecks

Today I shall not wax poetic on the state of the economy, rehash the rhetoric of last night’s debate or even talk about Son, the best little man in the world.

Today I will simply share one of my new favorite blogs – one that never fails to make me smile, and sometimes guffaw. Which is not pretty.

Cake Wrecks.

Go forth and laugh.

And if any of you submit one of my cakes, please make sure you spell my name correctly.

My Mother-in-Law Is a Lying Liar who Lies…

Last August my friend Kate at One More Thing… asked me to write a few guest posts for her while she was out of town. Though I had a Mommy blog I didn’t have a writing blog, so I was honored, excited and a bit intimidated. I’m so glad she asked me because if she hadn’t this blog would never have been born.

I thought you might enjoy reading my first ever non-Mommy blog posts, so I thought I’d re-post them while I’m out of town.

Here’s the third post…

I will be teaching my son to take out the garbage. He will learn to put the seat down. Put his clothes in the hamper. Put his empty cans and wrappers in the garbage.

He will know how to do a load of laundry. He shall learn to clean up after himself if he sprinkles while he tinkles, and he will most definitely put the toilet seat down. Instead of leaving the wax seal from the milk jug on the counter, he will learn to walk the extra three feet to toss it in the garbage.

My mother-in-law insists that she taught my husband all these things. If that’s true, what happened to him between the ages of twelve and 37 that made him forget? And is it hereditary?

If so, my future daughter-in-law will think I’m a lying liar who lies. And I’ll tell her it’s reversible. It only took three or four years of marriage for my husband’s memories to return.

And I’ll hope she has sons. So I can warn her that she’ll be a lying liar who lies, too.

And on that note, I will await my chewy gooeys. Your turn, Mary!

So, there you have it. The first three non-mommy posts I ever wrote. I hope you enjoyed them!

Country Living and the Loo

Now that my in-laws are living on seven gorgeous acres in North Carolina’s Smoky Ridge mountains they are thirty miles from the nearest town. The nearest store is a bait and tackle about five miles away, and they don’t stock cheesecake (and even if they did it would be suspect, don’t you think?).

That’s a huge change from South Florida, where they lived in an area with about 1000 stores in a two mile radius. I do errands almost every day to get us out of the house, and to maximize geographical efficiency (I’ll go to one store that’s by the park one day, another that’s by the library the next…) to save on gas.

In South Florida if you forget milk at the store it isn’t a big deal – just run back out and get some. Here it means they do without or spend the time and gas to drive that thirty miles back to town. They need to bring a cooler to the grocery store for frozen food items, at least in every season but winter. We had to forgo the ice cream yesterday because we forgot the cooler. Tragic times for an almost-four year old…

They say they are adjusting nicely to the change. They make a run once or twice a week and accomplish as much as possible in that one trip. We made that trip yesterday, and it brought into clear focus one of Son’s more annoying foibles. On our trip into town yesterday we made the following stops, all within a 1/2 mile radius (skip down to Final Tally if you want the short version):

  • Hardware store to get the chainsaw fixed. Son visited men’s room (single stall, I waited outside). Son also got a lollipop.
  • Drop off PT Cruiser to get boat hitch attached. Son did not go. While the men did that us ladies and Son went to…
  • Shoe store to look for some boots for Son so he can navigate the muddy land better. Son visited men’s room (single stall, I waited outside).
  • Drug store to pick up prescription for Husband’s grandmother, which was not ready. Son did not go in. Son did not go in.
  • Second drug store (I was surprised that there are two!) where my mother-in-law picks up her prescription. Son stayed in the car.
  • Grocery store (Where I forgot to pay for Son’s cookie! I’ll pay them next time…). Son visited the men’s room. Twice. Once with Poppy, once with Daddy.
  • Post office to mail a letter. Son stayed in the car.
  • Newspaper office to pay prescription. Son visited bathroom (only one), got a drink of water and helped let the cat out.
  • Bank to cash a check. Son visited men’s room (single stall, I waited outside) while the woman from the newspaper office (who just happened to follow us over there onbusiness of her own) laughed. A lot.
  • Back to pick up the PT Cruiser, whose trailer hitch had not been installed in the nearly two hours we’d been gone because the part had not come in. Which they didn’t bother to tell us when we dropped it off. Son stayed in the car.
  • Lunch at the Burger Basket (the most awesome burgers!). Son visited bathroom (only one).

Final Tally:

Number of hours we were out: 2ish

Number of Stores (etc.) Visited: 9

Number of places Son entered: 6

Number of Son’s Bathroom Visits: 7

I knew Son had this obsession with the loo. He visits (or wants to visit) the bathroom in every store and restaurant we patronize. It’s more of an issue now because he no longer wants to go into the ladies’ room with Mommy; he insists on going to the “three letter” room. Discussions about bad men are dismissed with either assertions that:

  • there are no bad men in there,
  • if there were they might hit him, but then he’d hit them and they’d get lost, or
  • there could be bad men in the ladies room, too.

My kid. He’s going a lawyer. Or a plumber.

And he will have ice cream. My father-in-law is making another trip to town tomorrow, as the trailer hitch has arrived. We’ll make sure he takes the cooler, plus thirty cents for the cookie we forgot to pay for.


Just to illustrate how oddly my mind works: this post started out as a discussion about the in-laws’ garden and how I can’t wait to have one on my own. Can you say stream of consciousness?

Fine Literature at a Great Price

This morning Son and I were going to go to the gym for open gym time, but it was canceled so we went to the library instead.

This isn’t our regular library, but we’ve visited before.

Every visit to this larger library must include at least two visits to the bathroom and two elevator rides. There’s a cafe, and the children’s area is about ten times the size of our regular branch.

They also have a perpetual sale of donated and replaced books. Children’s books are twenty-five cents (!!!), so I picked up a few. One in particular was a no-brainer. I’d read the book right after it came out and just knew that I’d buy it when I had kids. I’d just not gotten around to it yet.

Every day before nap Son & I read a few books together. We’d been to the bookstore last night and he’s been inseparable from his new train book ever since. I grabbed one of the new-to-us library books, too, and we sat down to read. After reading the train book (for the seventeenth time today) I gently declined his request to read it again and told him I thought he’d really love the new book.

I opened the book and after the first sentence he started laughing.

I don’t mean giggling, or a cute, short chuckle. I mean laughing. Deep, belly-clutching, roll-on-the-bed, grab my arm and hug me, lose-his-breath, can’t-stop type laughing.

I was laughing, too.

I’d finally introduced him to one of the finest books ever written: Everyone Poops.

I’m glad to see that like me, he appreciates good prose.

I’m so proud.

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