I am going to make a confession that some will find horrible. Please forgive me.
I've been holding on to this for a while. Because I am an honest person, and because I hate to see anyone wasting valuable time, I have to confess:
I do not go back to comments I've left on people's blogs to see if they have commented on my comments.
That said, if I read a post that I really enjoy, I will subscribe to its follow-up comments so that I can read the continued dialogue (and the blogger's replies). I enjoy reading bloggers' replies to other comments; I find it entertaining. I've recently begun recieving replies to my comments via email from people who use Wordpress, and I love that! (When is Blogger going to do that?!) I just don't go back to monitor replies to my comments. I feel a little guilty about that, so that's why I'm confessing.
I know it's good bloggy form to reply to your reader's comments, and I truly enjoy doing so on my blog, but I do so without any expectation that you come back and keep up with them. It just doesn't seem logical to me; it's hard enough to keep up with your Reader without returning to the posts to see if the author has added a comment for you. I figure if you're especially inspired to communicate with me, you'll do it via email or add it to a comment on a new post (which is what I sometimes do.) I love getting notes like that, and I enjoy sending personal email comments, too.
There. Now I feel better. Am I evil? Am I alone in this?
And now it's your turn; any confessions you'd like to share?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
How I Keep My Heart in Shape
Ever since I can remember, Kyle and I have loved startling the heck out of each other; jumping from around corners and saying, "Boo!" or just standing silently in a darkened room for the other to walk in and get startled. I LOVE the adrenalin rush it gives me to be suddenly scared like that (unless I am in a bad mood or what I call "ugly-hungry.") Don't stalk me, or knock on my windows late at night, but I love a quick startle that is over quickly and doesn't make me feel unsafe. Kyle and I have an agreement that it's okay to do this to each other; we don't do it every day or anything, just once in a while. And he's not allowed to do it when I'm in a bad mood. (So far, he's always respected this boundary.)
So, when I brought Tony and Judith home (see yesterday's post) I knew just what to do. Kyle wasn't home. I placed Tony in front of the deck window, facing in, so that Kyle would see him right when he walked in the house. I placed Judith in Kyle's shower upstairs.
Remember, I told you yesterday that if you're not expecting to see Tony Danza at your house, when you first see him, you think he's a stranger, and running into him in your house can give you quite a jolt. It may not surprise some people who know me that before Kyle came home, as I went about my normal activities in the house, I more than once found myself jumping in fear of the stranger on the deck, because I kept forgetting about him. (Yeah, I'm an airhead like that.)
So, Kyle (age 13 at the time) walks in the door and screams like a girl the second he sees Tony. And, of course, I LMAO! He recovered fairly quickly and congratulated me on the excellent scare I had given him. He said that Tony was "creepy," and put him out in the garage. Several minutes later, he went upstairs to his room (and the bathroom). I can't tell you how fun it was to wait in anticipation for the howling shriek, and he did not disappoint. MAN, that was funny!
Kyle got over it quickly and put Judith in the garage, too. He got the last laugh that night, though, when I came out of my master bathroom an hour later to find Tony in my darkened bedroom. Of course, I screamed, and Kyle LHAO. We had to call a truce that night, and the next day, I sent Tony on his neighborhood walkabout.
It's been a couple of years now since Tony arrived, and he is right now outside in the garage. I think I will play a little prank on Kyle before I send Tony to a neighbor's tomorrow. In fact, I'll videotape it. Keep your fingers crossed that it turns out!
P.S. Speaking of being scared, a bloggy friend of mine has posted 100 Things about herself. One of the things she wrote is that she would love to visit an actual haunted house. For more interesting tidbits and to help her reach her goal of 100 comments, go check out Our Crooked Tree and enter to win $100 in honor of her 100th post!
So, when I brought Tony and Judith home (see yesterday's post) I knew just what to do. Kyle wasn't home. I placed Tony in front of the deck window, facing in, so that Kyle would see him right when he walked in the house. I placed Judith in Kyle's shower upstairs.
Remember, I told you yesterday that if you're not expecting to see Tony Danza at your house, when you first see him, you think he's a stranger, and running into him in your house can give you quite a jolt. It may not surprise some people who know me that before Kyle came home, as I went about my normal activities in the house, I more than once found myself jumping in fear of the stranger on the deck, because I kept forgetting about him. (Yeah, I'm an airhead like that.)
So, Kyle (age 13 at the time) walks in the door and screams like a girl the second he sees Tony. And, of course, I LMAO! He recovered fairly quickly and congratulated me on the excellent scare I had given him. He said that Tony was "creepy," and put him out in the garage. Several minutes later, he went upstairs to his room (and the bathroom). I can't tell you how fun it was to wait in anticipation for the howling shriek, and he did not disappoint. MAN, that was funny!
Kyle got over it quickly and put Judith in the garage, too. He got the last laugh that night, though, when I came out of my master bathroom an hour later to find Tony in my darkened bedroom. Of course, I screamed, and Kyle LHAO. We had to call a truce that night, and the next day, I sent Tony on his neighborhood walkabout.
It's been a couple of years now since Tony arrived, and he is right now outside in the garage. I think I will play a little prank on Kyle before I send Tony to a neighbor's tomorrow. In fact, I'll videotape it. Keep your fingers crossed that it turns out!
P.S. Speaking of being scared, a bloggy friend of mine has posted 100 Things about herself. One of the things she wrote is that she would love to visit an actual haunted house. For more interesting tidbits and to help her reach her goal of 100 comments, go check out Our Crooked Tree and enter to win $100 in honor of her 100th post!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Neighborhood Hijinks
Over at Cre8buzz, Kelly wrote a post about the pranks she and her kids are doing this summer. This reminded me of similar shenanigans we conduct in my neighborhood.
A couple of summers ago, I found Tony Danza and Judith Light at a garage sale! I'm not kidding, but I should probably add that they were actually cardboard, life-sized cut-outs of Tony and Judith. Here's what Tony looks like today:
And here's a closer look. The "bullet hole" will be explained later...
I scooped them up for a mere $5 each. Why? Because I got this great idea from my brother-in-law, in whose neighborhood John Wayne, dressed as a gun-slinging cowboy shows up on people's doorsteps unannounced and scares the crap out of them. I found him on-line here:
So, of course, I had a plan for Tony (and I put Judith aside for a while). At first, I had a little fun with him at our house (see tomorrow's post), but then I got him ready for a little visit to a neighbor's house.
I have to interject here to tell you that when you first come upon "Tony" when you're not expecting him, you do not recognize him as Tony Danza; you think he is just some strange man with scary body language. And even though he has friendly posture, finding a strange man standing on your deck (day or night) will startle the daylights out of you! He scared the stuffing out of me several times when I knew he was there!
I put the following note in a plastic bag and stapled the bag to Tony's back:
Hi. I'm Tony Danza. I hope I didn't scare you too much! I'm staying at the 4444's this summer and thought I'd make the rounds in the neighborhood, just to say hi. Please use the notebook attached to record the story of how we met, and pass me on to someone else. Please check the weather before dropping me off, and make sure I get back to the 4444 house by the end of September."
I took Tony to Mike and Sandy's house and put him on their deck, facing in, so that when they came home from work, they would find Tony looking in the window. Mike came home, saw him first, and nearly had a heart attack.
The fun thing about getting startled by Tony is doing it to someone else. Mike had the nerve to take Tony to Vicky and Chelle's house, which had an interesting effect, given that Vicky is a State Trooper. I don't remember all the details, but I do remember that Vicky actually ran into the house to get her gun when she came upon Tony, who was standing near her squad car on the driveway in the dark. I also recall that she did NOT find the prank funny (until a few days later, after she calmed down.)
The $5 investment paid off considerably that summer, as we shared stories of Tony's adventures at the block party in September. In October, he was returned to us, and we enjoyed reading more of Tony's exploits. As you can see, he is a little beat up today; he has a bullet hole in his forehead, and his neck is broken, and I've removed some "suggestive" clothing he came home in. (Judith is long gone, unfortunately; someone kidnapped her and never brought her back.) I dug Tony up today (forgot about him until I read Kelly's post).
Off to patch Tony up and find an unsuspecting neighbor....
P.S. I want to warn you that if you do this, it's important to avoid neighbors who have health conditions or really bad senses of humor; it could get ugly, and you might never see your cut-out again. Have a sense of humor, but don't remember that you want to get along with your neighbors (well, most of you do, anyway), so make wise choices :) Here's a great place to start; I can't be sure you'll find any for $5, but you'll sure have fun looking. How about this guy?
A couple of summers ago, I found Tony Danza and Judith Light at a garage sale! I'm not kidding, but I should probably add that they were actually cardboard, life-sized cut-outs of Tony and Judith. Here's what Tony looks like today:
And here's a closer look. The "bullet hole" will be explained later...
I scooped them up for a mere $5 each. Why? Because I got this great idea from my brother-in-law, in whose neighborhood John Wayne, dressed as a gun-slinging cowboy shows up on people's doorsteps unannounced and scares the crap out of them. I found him on-line here:
So, of course, I had a plan for Tony (and I put Judith aside for a while). At first, I had a little fun with him at our house (see tomorrow's post), but then I got him ready for a little visit to a neighbor's house.I have to interject here to tell you that when you first come upon "Tony" when you're not expecting him, you do not recognize him as Tony Danza; you think he is just some strange man with scary body language. And even though he has friendly posture, finding a strange man standing on your deck (day or night) will startle the daylights out of you! He scared the stuffing out of me several times when I knew he was there!
I put the following note in a plastic bag and stapled the bag to Tony's back:
Hi. I'm Tony Danza. I hope I didn't scare you too much! I'm staying at the 4444's this summer and thought I'd make the rounds in the neighborhood, just to say hi. Please use the notebook attached to record the story of how we met, and pass me on to someone else. Please check the weather before dropping me off, and make sure I get back to the 4444 house by the end of September."
I took Tony to Mike and Sandy's house and put him on their deck, facing in, so that when they came home from work, they would find Tony looking in the window. Mike came home, saw him first, and nearly had a heart attack.
The fun thing about getting startled by Tony is doing it to someone else. Mike had the nerve to take Tony to Vicky and Chelle's house, which had an interesting effect, given that Vicky is a State Trooper. I don't remember all the details, but I do remember that Vicky actually ran into the house to get her gun when she came upon Tony, who was standing near her squad car on the driveway in the dark. I also recall that she did NOT find the prank funny (until a few days later, after she calmed down.)
The $5 investment paid off considerably that summer, as we shared stories of Tony's adventures at the block party in September. In October, he was returned to us, and we enjoyed reading more of Tony's exploits. As you can see, he is a little beat up today; he has a bullet hole in his forehead, and his neck is broken, and I've removed some "suggestive" clothing he came home in. (Judith is long gone, unfortunately; someone kidnapped her and never brought her back.) I dug Tony up today (forgot about him until I read Kelly's post).
Off to patch Tony up and find an unsuspecting neighbor....
P.S. I want to warn you that if you do this, it's important to avoid neighbors who have health conditions or really bad senses of humor; it could get ugly, and you might never see your cut-out again. Have a sense of humor, but don't remember that you want to get along with your neighbors (well, most of you do, anyway), so make wise choices :) Here's a great place to start; I can't be sure you'll find any for $5, but you'll sure have fun looking. How about this guy?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Tuesday Tidbits
Lots of little gems today! First up, here's my entry in the Write From Karen Photo Contest! 
I took this photo of Mark and the kids a few years ago, at our favorite camping spot in the Nicolet National Forest; Franklin Lake. We had just finished setting up camp, and they had run down to the lake to throw a worm in. I love the way it turned out, especially because it is a completely untouched photo. (Can't wait to take one this year, as Kyle is almost as tall as Mark now.)
Voting takes place August 2-6 (I'll remind you!), so don't be afraid to enter your favorite summer photo! The prize is a $25 gift card, and since I know you're taking tons of photos this summer anyway, it's worth entering. For more info, click on this button or the one on my sidebar.
Finally, I want to share two recent, entertaining, original, (brief) blog posts from two of my favorite part-time bloggers. I figure if they get a little comment luv, it will motivate them to post their genius more often! Find out why Kandee's new pool is taking so long to be built, and check out Michelle's hilarious fashion critique of "Dork-Leg" Jeans. And if those two don't make you laugh (or at least smile), you might need more than a blog post, but try reading Bee's Things I Absolutely Cannot Do Without. I laughed so loud that Mr.4444 and Kyle looked worried.
There. As Mom would say, "Now, don't say I never offered you nuthin'."
I took this photo of Mark and the kids a few years ago, at our favorite camping spot in the Nicolet National Forest; Franklin Lake. We had just finished setting up camp, and they had run down to the lake to throw a worm in. I love the way it turned out, especially because it is a completely untouched photo. (Can't wait to take one this year, as Kyle is almost as tall as Mark now.)Voting takes place August 2-6 (I'll remind you!), so don't be afraid to enter your favorite summer photo! The prize is a $25 gift card, and since I know you're taking tons of photos this summer anyway, it's worth entering. For more info, click on this button or the one on my sidebar.
Finally, I want to share two recent, entertaining, original, (brief) blog posts from two of my favorite part-time bloggers. I figure if they get a little comment luv, it will motivate them to post their genius more often! Find out why Kandee's new pool is taking so long to be built, and check out Michelle's hilarious fashion critique of "Dork-Leg" Jeans. And if those two don't make you laugh (or at least smile), you might need more than a blog post, but try reading Bee's Things I Absolutely Cannot Do Without. I laughed so loud that Mr.4444 and Kyle looked worried.There. As Mom would say, "Now, don't say I never offered you nuthin'."
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Our Weekend
For many years, we have enjoyed an annual trip to Michigan to visit Mr.4444's Aunt Bette and Uncle George. It's a six-hour drive, but we wouldn't miss it for the world, as Uncle George and Aunt Bette are very dear to us. (They are wonderful hosts, loving people, and they and their two sons and their families are my husband's only extended family on his dad's side of the family.) 
Uncle George, Otto, Aunt Bette, and Monica
On this year's trip, we got two visits for the price of one! We were fortunate to meet Mr.4444's 6th cousin, Monica, and her husband, Otto, who were visiting from the country of Amsterdam. Apparently, Monica's Great, Great, Great grandmother and Mark's GGGGrandma were sisters. (Go ahead and figure out that one if you'd like! I'm not sure we got it right, but we're close.) Monica's GGG grandma stayed in Sweden, but Mark's GGG Grandma immigrated to America way back when. Mark's 1st cousin once-removed did years of family research and found Otto and Monica. Isn't that cool? Anyway, we really enjoyed meeting them, as they were very sweet.
Uncle George and Aunt Bette live in a beautiful home in the middle of a forest that butts up to Lake Michigan. Kyle and Kendall look forward to this visit every year, not only because they love Uncle George and Aunt Bette (of course!) but because they love the beach. No visit is complete with the climb up "The Dune." Now you tree-huggers out there might need to back out of this post here, as we are fully aware that we are causing erosion when we do this, but we are not going to stop. (Sorry.) Don't worry, though, as we only do it once a year, and we only climb it once. See for yourself why:
If you look very closely, you can see Kyle and Kendall running up the dune. And yes, as a matter of fact, I did climb it, although MUCH slower than the kids. (Boy, that will get your heart a thumpin', let me tell you!) Here's a pic of Kyle at the top.
And the best part of climbing the dune? This (Sorry, but you'll have to tilt your head to the left!):
Uncle George, Otto, Aunt Bette, and MonicaOn this year's trip, we got two visits for the price of one! We were fortunate to meet Mr.4444's 6th cousin, Monica, and her husband, Otto, who were visiting from the country of Amsterdam. Apparently, Monica's Great, Great, Great grandmother and Mark's GGGGrandma were sisters. (Go ahead and figure out that one if you'd like! I'm not sure we got it right, but we're close.) Monica's GGG grandma stayed in Sweden, but Mark's GGG Grandma immigrated to America way back when. Mark's 1st cousin once-removed did years of family research and found Otto and Monica. Isn't that cool? Anyway, we really enjoyed meeting them, as they were very sweet.
Uncle George and Aunt Bette live in a beautiful home in the middle of a forest that butts up to Lake Michigan. Kyle and Kendall look forward to this visit every year, not only because they love Uncle George and Aunt Bette (of course!) but because they love the beach. No visit is complete with the climb up "The Dune." Now you tree-huggers out there might need to back out of this post here, as we are fully aware that we are causing erosion when we do this, but we are not going to stop. (Sorry.) Don't worry, though, as we only do it once a year, and we only climb it once. See for yourself why:If you look very closely, you can see Kyle and Kendall running up the dune. And yes, as a matter of fact, I did climb it, although MUCH slower than the kids. (Boy, that will get your heart a thumpin', let me tell you!) Here's a pic of Kyle at the top.And the best part of climbing the dune? This (Sorry, but you'll have to tilt your head to the left!):I'll wind this up with Kyle's pic of the weekend, captured our first night there.
Just the thing I needed to move forward this week...I hope your week is off to a peaceful start, too.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Weekly Winners
First up, my gorgeous necklace from Jen, who lost a Bachelorette bet and paid up, fair and square (or round, depending upon how you look at it.) The necklace says, "Inspire," and I LOVE it! Want one? Go here.Kendall took this one today....
I took the next two while waiting for Kendall at a friend's.
Kendall and Me
For more Weekly Winners, go here! (Now, you can even enter weekly to win cool prizes!)Have a fantastic week! (And thanks, Everyone, for your support this week; you've been great, and I appreciate you :)
Friday, July 25, 2008
The 5 People I Hope to Meet in Heaven
Being at the funeral today got me to thinking....When I get to Heaven (hopefully), who will I see there? Who would I like to see? Who will greet me, and who will I have to seek out? If I (God forbid) died today and went to heaven....
I'd definitely like to see Mark's dad, Bob. He should be having a ball up there! I'm sure he's on the Welcoming Committee; Jack Daniels and an extra glass in hand, along with at least a few dogs at his side.
When Grandma Florence (Bob's mom) died, it literally killed him (six weeks later) so I know the two of them are having a ball up there, playing cribbage and laughing a LOT. I'm sure she no longer has arthritis in her hands and continues to knit like a madwoman (but do they really need sweaters in Heaven??) It would be great to see Grandma Florence again.
Grandma Florence and Bob, Summer 2002
I'd love to see my dad in Heaven. He had a strong faith in God, and I know all is forgiven up there, so he most likely now has forgiven himself for his failings on earth and is finally at peace with himself. I would love to see him that way.
Who else? Hmmm...I would pop in on Grandma Grace, just to say hi. And assuming that there are no hurt feelings in heaven, I would definitely find my dad's dad, Granville, to ask some very pointed questions about why my dad had so much baggage to carry and what it was all about; I have a lot of curiosity about that and about my ancestors. (Of course, in Heaven, there would be no inhibitions, so he would forget how inhibited his generation was and would share freely.)
Assuming that Heaven exists, and assuming you believe, who do you hope to meet in Heaven one day?
I'd definitely like to see Mark's dad, Bob. He should be having a ball up there! I'm sure he's on the Welcoming Committee; Jack Daniels and an extra glass in hand, along with at least a few dogs at his side.
When Grandma Florence (Bob's mom) died, it literally killed him (six weeks later) so I know the two of them are having a ball up there, playing cribbage and laughing a LOT. I'm sure she no longer has arthritis in her hands and continues to knit like a madwoman (but do they really need sweaters in Heaven??) It would be great to see Grandma Florence again.
Grandma Florence and Bob, Summer 2002I'd love to see my dad in Heaven. He had a strong faith in God, and I know all is forgiven up there, so he most likely now has forgiven himself for his failings on earth and is finally at peace with himself. I would love to see him that way.
Who else? Hmmm...I would pop in on Grandma Grace, just to say hi. And assuming that there are no hurt feelings in heaven, I would definitely find my dad's dad, Granville, to ask some very pointed questions about why my dad had so much baggage to carry and what it was all about; I have a lot of curiosity about that and about my ancestors. (Of course, in Heaven, there would be no inhibitions, so he would forget how inhibited his generation was and would share freely.)
Assuming that Heaven exists, and assuming you believe, who do you hope to meet in Heaven one day?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Summer in the Park
Last week Thurday, I picked up Mr.4444's mom and my mom and joined my sister, Mary, at a local park during lunch hour for the "Concert in the Park" series. The Copper Box band was playing a free, lively concert, and the place was packed!
It was quiet at first, but before long, spirited folks were up and dancing. These two got going right away.
The band was quite good. Two of their featured instruments were an accordian and a washboard, so imagine my surprise to see these two jamming! (Yes, that's a kilt!)
Mom didn't dance, but she was up for a little fun. Check out this photo of her and the gyro salesman I recruited for the photo. Isn't she a kick?!
Even those who couldn't stand up and dance got in on the merriment!
And of course, what's a picnic lunch in the park without kids? We all observed in silence as a preschool teacher approached with a rope with handles holding about 12 little cuties. They followed her just like ducklings as she escorted them to a grassy space right in front of my chair. While they quietly and patiently waited, she spread out a a sleeping bag, sat in the middle of it, and said, " Okay, everybody sit down." And I kid you not, every single one of those rugrats snuggled up to her on that sleeping bag and sat down. Every single one,; not on the grass--on the sleeping bag. It was a tight fit (she was not a small person), and we were all speechless at how much control she had over the kids. It was terribly cute. I wish I had taken a photo, but I just didn't think of it til later.
While that was impressive, we were all relieved 10-15 minutes later, when the kids began to act like normal children and got up and moved around a little. I even took a few shots of them dancing with the abandon only kids can show. One of them insisted that I take her photo, and I did. Of course, once I did that, everyone wanted a pic.
It was quiet at first, but before long, spirited folks were up and dancing. These two got going right away.
The band was quite good. Two of their featured instruments were an accordian and a washboard, so imagine my surprise to see these two jamming! (Yes, that's a kilt!)
Mom didn't dance, but she was up for a little fun. Check out this photo of her and the gyro salesman I recruited for the photo. Isn't she a kick?!
Even those who couldn't stand up and dance got in on the merriment!
And of course, what's a picnic lunch in the park without kids? We all observed in silence as a preschool teacher approached with a rope with handles holding about 12 little cuties. They followed her just like ducklings as she escorted them to a grassy space right in front of my chair. While they quietly and patiently waited, she spread out a a sleeping bag, sat in the middle of it, and said, " Okay, everybody sit down." And I kid you not, every single one of those rugrats snuggled up to her on that sleeping bag and sat down. Every single one,; not on the grass--on the sleeping bag. It was a tight fit (she was not a small person), and we were all speechless at how much control she had over the kids. It was terribly cute. I wish I had taken a photo, but I just didn't think of it til later.While that was impressive, we were all relieved 10-15 minutes later, when the kids began to act like normal children and got up and moved around a little. I even took a few shots of them dancing with the abandon only kids can show. One of them insisted that I take her photo, and I did. Of course, once I did that, everyone wanted a pic.
She then insisted that I let her take my camera over to her teacher so she could show her the photo. Peeling her stubborn fingers off my camera, I firmly but kindly told her no, that she could not. She boldly snapped, "Why?! I'll bring it back!" I told her I would show her teacher, but she could not handle my camera. She gave me that, "Some people!" look.
I took a few more pics, and the kids were mostly pretty cute. Of course, when I bought a popsicle, they all stared at it with wide, sad eyes, even though each of them had had their own popsicles five minutes earlier. Feeling a little smothered, I took a walk to take some pics, but I eventually came back and took out my change purse to find some change for a drink. Suddenly, my chair was surrounded by 3-foot tall panhandlers. The boldest (guess which one) said, "Can I have some money? Pleeeeease can I have some money?" and soon they were like a nest of chirping birds, hungry for worms. I said no, but they did not budge, and a couple of them actually had their hands out. I said, "Listen to me. You need to step away from my chair. I am not going to give you any money. I don't even know you!"
Bold One pipes up, "My name is Shanika!" and her posse followed, "My name is Sarah!" "My name is Simon. What's your name?"
Too funny. (Annoying--yes, but funny, too.)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Remembering Ellen
When I was a kid, I had a best friend named Terri Allen. We were pretty close; as close as siblings, pretty much. We lived two blocks from each other, and few days went by without us hanging out together; doing the things kids do. We had a lot of fun (and got in some scraps), but we always made up. We each had a younger sister in the same grade, and they hung out, too. Terri and I once spent a summer as "Secret Pals" for our little sisters, writing them notes from "Binki" and leaving them little surprise gifts. We listened to music, made forts, and put on skits, enjoying carefree times.
One thing that I did not enjoy that much (but did because I was Terri's friend) was peddling fruits and vegetables with her every summer. The Allen family had a huge garden. I never saw it, so I don't know how big, but it must have been huge, because we sold a lot of fruits and vegetables on those hot summer days. We'd fill a red wagon with them, and Terri's mom, Ellen, would drop us off in a nearby neighborhood filled with huge "mansion"-type houses, and we'd go door-to-door with beautiful strawberries, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, eggplants, and other offerings. It didn't take long to sell them; people were very happy with the quality, the service, and the cute little girls working hard to make a little money. We rarely had anything left to sell by the end of our route, but back at Terri's house, we'd eat plenty more. (Her dad, Del, made some mean little red potatoes!)
Eventually, Terri and I drifted apart. I haven't seen her but once or twice in the past 20 years; we kind of moved on in different directions, each of us getting married and moving to other places and lives. I've seen her mom on and off over the years, though (their house is not far away from my mom's). Ellen had been like a second mom to me when I was a kid and young adult. I've taken the time to thank her for that, but we've really not kept in touch like you'd expect.
A few days ago, I was in the grocery store, choosing little red potatoes, when I had a thought of those hot summer days pulling that wagon. I thought of Ellen and realized it had been a while since I'd seen her; I decided to call her. Terri's sister, Sara, answered the telephone and told me that her mom was very ill and in the hospital. When I asked about visiting, she said she didn't think her mom was going to be up for company; it was serious. Ellen had been deathly ill for for a while; in and out of the hospital with heart and lung ailments. Even though Sara had not said so in words, I had a distinct feeling that Ellen was not long for this earth.
I told Mark about it, and during our conversation, he asked, "How old is she?" I told him I didn't know; no matter how old she was, I always thought of Ellen as being 36 or so.
Last Monday, I saw Ellen's obituary in the newspaper. ( She was 65 years old.) Terri called me on Tuesday to make sure I had heard.
After hanging up with Terri, I felt sad, but I didn't shed a tear. Soon after hanging up the phone, I made a plan to make something for the Allen family to eat. I went to the store, bought a bunch of stuff and went home to cook. And cook, I did; for two hours. In the back of my mind, I was thinking to myself, "What's this all about, Barb? You only cook like this when you're stressed out." I didn't feel any stress, but I made a beautiful salad, sloppy joes, taco meat, and a meatloaf. After putting the main dishes in the freezer, I dropped the salad off at the Allen's house (only Del was there) and headed back home.
I decided to write.
And when I got to the part about the "Care Packages" Ellen sent me when I was in college, the tears finally came...
To be continued...(maybe)
One thing that I did not enjoy that much (but did because I was Terri's friend) was peddling fruits and vegetables with her every summer. The Allen family had a huge garden. I never saw it, so I don't know how big, but it must have been huge, because we sold a lot of fruits and vegetables on those hot summer days. We'd fill a red wagon with them, and Terri's mom, Ellen, would drop us off in a nearby neighborhood filled with huge "mansion"-type houses, and we'd go door-to-door with beautiful strawberries, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, eggplants, and other offerings. It didn't take long to sell them; people were very happy with the quality, the service, and the cute little girls working hard to make a little money. We rarely had anything left to sell by the end of our route, but back at Terri's house, we'd eat plenty more. (Her dad, Del, made some mean little red potatoes!)
Eventually, Terri and I drifted apart. I haven't seen her but once or twice in the past 20 years; we kind of moved on in different directions, each of us getting married and moving to other places and lives. I've seen her mom on and off over the years, though (their house is not far away from my mom's). Ellen had been like a second mom to me when I was a kid and young adult. I've taken the time to thank her for that, but we've really not kept in touch like you'd expect.
A few days ago, I was in the grocery store, choosing little red potatoes, when I had a thought of those hot summer days pulling that wagon. I thought of Ellen and realized it had been a while since I'd seen her; I decided to call her. Terri's sister, Sara, answered the telephone and told me that her mom was very ill and in the hospital. When I asked about visiting, she said she didn't think her mom was going to be up for company; it was serious. Ellen had been deathly ill for for a while; in and out of the hospital with heart and lung ailments. Even though Sara had not said so in words, I had a distinct feeling that Ellen was not long for this earth.
I told Mark about it, and during our conversation, he asked, "How old is she?" I told him I didn't know; no matter how old she was, I always thought of Ellen as being 36 or so.
Last Monday, I saw Ellen's obituary in the newspaper. ( She was 65 years old.) Terri called me on Tuesday to make sure I had heard.
After hanging up with Terri, I felt sad, but I didn't shed a tear. Soon after hanging up the phone, I made a plan to make something for the Allen family to eat. I went to the store, bought a bunch of stuff and went home to cook. And cook, I did; for two hours. In the back of my mind, I was thinking to myself, "What's this all about, Barb? You only cook like this when you're stressed out." I didn't feel any stress, but I made a beautiful salad, sloppy joes, taco meat, and a meatloaf. After putting the main dishes in the freezer, I dropped the salad off at the Allen's house (only Del was there) and headed back home.
I decided to write.
And when I got to the part about the "Care Packages" Ellen sent me when I was in college, the tears finally came...
To be continued...(maybe)
Almost-Wordless Wednesday
Monday, July 21, 2008
Lost in the Wilderness: A Cautionary Tale About Over Confidence
One year ago this week, I started this blog as an assignment for a class I was taking in Web 2.0 tools. I knew exactly what to write about for my post, because I had recently had a traumatic experience while camping with the family. I'm re-posting it here, because it remains one of my top favorite posts. I think you will love it, too. (My apologies if you read this already; I accidentally set up two posts on Monday and pulled this one too late for the Readers, I'm guessing.)
I consider myself an experienced hiker. (I’ve hiked to the rim of Mt. St. Helens and put in more than 100 hours on trails all over the state of Washington, for crying out loud!) So when my family went camping in the Sylvania Wilderness Area of Upper Michigan last week, I was itching to go exploring. After a long, rainy night in the tent, I climbed out of my sleeping bag at 5:30am, took a few photos of beautiful Crooked Lake at sunrise, and set off in sneakers, a baseball cap, and a hooded sweatshirt. Given that I only planned an hour or so of hiking, I didn’t give my usual list of hiking essentials a second thought. I put some bug spray on and took a shoulder bag containing a 16oz bottle of water, my camera, a plastic bag with toilet paper (Leave no trace, remember!), and some gum.
Cheerfully, I began my walkabout, blazing my own trail. I did have a small photocopied map, but there were no trails close to our campsite (I had ignored my husband's suggestion the night before to find a trailhead by canoe.) I figured that if I followed the lake line, I’d have no problems. I was immediately rewarded with the beauty of the forest; the sun peeking up from the east, chirping birds, curious chipmunks, and much evidence that beavers had been working hard on gathering saplings for their huts. This was definitely “God’s Country,” and I felt privileged to be a part of it.
After about 45 minutes, I was thrilled to find a trail. Feeling like it was my lucky day, I picked up the pace and followed the path, not caring where it led. Who worried on a beautiful morning like this? An hour or so later, I found myself at a familiar place. This was the beach we had played at the day before! We had taken canoes there, because Mr. 4444 had told us it was too far to walk. Imagine my smug thoughts as I realized I had indeed hiked that far.
I decided that I had gone far enough and stopped to consult my map. The local horseflies that had (to this point) been only mildly annoying, would have none of that; they mercilessly hovered around me. Removing my useless baseball cap and cinching my hood on, I snapped a quick photo of a glistening spider’s web, shining in the sun, and headed back the way I had come.
After a while, I began to wonder how I was going to get back to our campsite. I came to a fork in the road and wasn’t positive which way it would lead me, but I knew where the sun had been in the sky when I left, so I headed the way I felt would lead me in the general direction. I was confident that I’d get there, but I joked with myself about getting lost in the woods overnight. (That would suck!)
My stomach growled; I had not eaten breakfast, and I pictured the hubby cheerfully cooking up pancakes and sausage for the kids. I wondered if anyone was worried about me, since I knew it had been more than a couple of hours since I had left. The bugs suddenly became relentless; I could hardly stand it! They left my hands and ankles alone (yes, Capri pants), but they would not leave my face. I picked up a stick in each hand and waved them across my face as I walked, wishing I had put bug-stuff on my face, too. My feet began to slosh inside my sneaks, which had become wet in my relentless traipsing through tall grass at many points in the trail (did I say it poured the night before?). As if I didn't have enough problems already, I was also out of toilet paper.
Eventually, I found myself at another familiar place. It was a portage between two lakes, Crooked and Mountain, but which was which? I recognized the area, because Mark and I had canoed there the day before. I remembered that he had said that Mountain Lake was special; there was no live bait allowed on that lake.
There was a tiny, sandy beach in front of one of the lakes. I stood there, wondering what to do, waving at bugs, considering my empty water bottle, wondering if I should fill it with lake water. As if I didn't already have enough problems, I had to…...you know. (I’ll save that story for another blog, but let’s just say I took care of that problem and forgot about “leaving no trace.” I had more important issues to address.) Feeling renewed in spirit, but not at all sure of where I was (that damned map was useless!) (Or was it true that the hungry, thirsty, panicky brain does not work at full capacity after all?) I set off in a new direction.
A couple of miles later, I realized I was not getting anywhere. I backtracked to the portage area and wondered if I should go forward, or instead, stay put. (After all, as my son tells me, the first rule in Boy Scout wilderness survival is “hug a tree” when you get lost.) I looked across the lake before me and shouted and whistled with my fingers; no response. I walked over to the other lake and did the same. No response.
Suddenly, I heard a boat motor in the distance. God! Please let it be the DNR patrolling the waters, looking for me! The sound faded. I could wait there to be found, but it was Tuesday. What were the odds of finding fisherman in the middle of nowhere, where there were probably twenty different lakes (actually 34) on a Tuesday?! In the sand at the water’s edge, after much consideration, I wrote, “Barb went this way…7/12” and drew an arrow. I also filled my water bottle with lake water, just in case. I felt a tiny bit silly, but I really was becoming worried. Off I went.
As I walked this now-familiar, yet utterly-tangled path, I really started freaking out. I brazenly spit my gum right in the middle of the trail (it would give the searchers hope, I thought). What if I was stuck out here all night? I thanked God that I had left at 6am and that people might already be looking for me. What time was it? I had no idea. The sun was sort of high in the sky, but it couldn’t be afternoon already, could it?! Finally, I found a marker. I consulted my map, but I did not see “A-Frame” on it. Crap! I decided to go that anyway; an A-frame sounded like a place someone might rent for a week (or at least be a good place to break into, should I be stuck here all night).
After two miles (I was counting my steps.) I suddenly heard and saw a small, private plane flying over the treetops! “Oh, my God! They could be searching for me!” I said out loud. “They are never going to find me in the woods! I need to get back to the portage area, where they could see me!” I mustered up what energy I had left and began to hurry back to the portage area, about three miles back. My hope was renewed, but it soon dissipated, as I did not hear the plane return. I dropped a lot of swearwords on this route. I said some things I would not like my students to hear me say. With a teary lump in my throat, I yelled an apology to Mr. 4444 and the kids for making them worry about me. I decided to stop at the portage and just quit trying to follow that blasted map.
As I approached the portage area, I glimpsed a bit of bright red fabric. Could it be….yes! People!! As I approached, I called out weakly, yet cheerfully, “I am so incredibly lost right now!” The middle-aged fisherman and his friend, both in waders, peacefully fishing from tiny rubber rafts, calmly called back, “Where you comin' from?” I was speechless. I had become choked up at the sign of human beings. I don’t remember what I told him, but I remember clearly what he replied, “Don’t worry. We have a very nice map. We’ll get you back on your way in no time!” This idea struck me with such panic that I began to cry, silently, but not shyly. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, but I needed to make my point; I had no intention of going back into the woods again on my own.
The angler in red got out of his raft and approached me. I blubbered, “I’m sure my husband and kids are really worried about me! I really don’t want to spend any more time in the woods. I just want to get back there.” He gave me one of those awkward, side-armed hugs and said, “It'll be okay.” His friend (I later learned his name to be Mike Donovan) said, “You keep fishing, I’ll take her back in the canoe.” It never occurred to me that he could be a deranged killer or worse; I just gave myself to his care, relieved to leave the woods behind me.
Before long, Mike and I were paddling along in his beautiful, lightweight canoe, which breezed over the water quickly. I helped paddle, even though he told me I didn’t need to; I wanted to hurry. I coveted his bottle of water, tucked into the edge of my seat. After hinting, “Do you think it’s okay to drink this lake water I have?” I was relieved to hear him say, “Oh, just drink mine.” I don’t remember a lot of our conversation; just that he worked for a phone company and lived in Illinois and had some kids. He also told me the time; it was 11:00am, five hours after I had started my hike. I thanked him for helping me, and he said that it was “nothing. What goes around, comes around.”
After about 15 minutes, we glided into our bay. (Luckily, Mike knew the area well, and I knew the name of our campsite, which was, ironically, called "Fisher."). The kids answered my call from the lake and met me with the dog at the water's edge. After a drink refill for Mike and enthusiastic thanks from the four of us, we sent him back to his fishing, but not before he showed us his beautiful topographical map of the area and reminded me to get a GPS. (I think I know what I'm getting for Christmas this year!)
Mr. 4444 said he had been worried, but since he didn’t even know which direction I had headed off in, he felt helpless to do anything about it. Kyle, who had heard me say I’d be gone “an hour or so,” had been worried. Kendall (poor thing) said, “Mom, I thought you were dead.” Needless to say, I was apologetic and relieved. I was also done camping.
I guess I am now, truly, an “experienced” hiker.
I consider myself an experienced hiker. (I’ve hiked to the rim of Mt. St. Helens and put in more than 100 hours on trails all over the state of Washington, for crying out loud!) So when my family went camping in the Sylvania Wilderness Area of Upper Michigan last week, I was itching to go exploring. After a long, rainy night in the tent, I climbed out of my sleeping bag at 5:30am, took a few photos of beautiful Crooked Lake at sunrise, and set off in sneakers, a baseball cap, and a hooded sweatshirt. Given that I only planned an hour or so of hiking, I didn’t give my usual list of hiking essentials a second thought. I put some bug spray on and took a shoulder bag containing a 16oz bottle of water, my camera, a plastic bag with toilet paper (Leave no trace, remember!), and some gum.
Cheerfully, I began my walkabout, blazing my own trail. I did have a small photocopied map, but there were no trails close to our campsite (I had ignored my husband's suggestion the night before to find a trailhead by canoe.) I figured that if I followed the lake line, I’d have no problems. I was immediately rewarded with the beauty of the forest; the sun peeking up from the east, chirping birds, curious chipmunks, and much evidence that beavers had been working hard on gathering saplings for their huts. This was definitely “God’s Country,” and I felt privileged to be a part of it.
After about 45 minutes, I was thrilled to find a trail. Feeling like it was my lucky day, I picked up the pace and followed the path, not caring where it led. Who worried on a beautiful morning like this? An hour or so later, I found myself at a familiar place. This was the beach we had played at the day before! We had taken canoes there, because Mr. 4444 had told us it was too far to walk. Imagine my smug thoughts as I realized I had indeed hiked that far.
I decided that I had gone far enough and stopped to consult my map. The local horseflies that had (to this point) been only mildly annoying, would have none of that; they mercilessly hovered around me. Removing my useless baseball cap and cinching my hood on, I snapped a quick photo of a glistening spider’s web, shining in the sun, and headed back the way I had come.
After a while, I began to wonder how I was going to get back to our campsite. I came to a fork in the road and wasn’t positive which way it would lead me, but I knew where the sun had been in the sky when I left, so I headed the way I felt would lead me in the general direction. I was confident that I’d get there, but I joked with myself about getting lost in the woods overnight. (That would suck!)
My stomach growled; I had not eaten breakfast, and I pictured the hubby cheerfully cooking up pancakes and sausage for the kids. I wondered if anyone was worried about me, since I knew it had been more than a couple of hours since I had left. The bugs suddenly became relentless; I could hardly stand it! They left my hands and ankles alone (yes, Capri pants), but they would not leave my face. I picked up a stick in each hand and waved them across my face as I walked, wishing I had put bug-stuff on my face, too. My feet began to slosh inside my sneaks, which had become wet in my relentless traipsing through tall grass at many points in the trail (did I say it poured the night before?). As if I didn't have enough problems already, I was also out of toilet paper.
Eventually, I found myself at another familiar place. It was a portage between two lakes, Crooked and Mountain, but which was which? I recognized the area, because Mark and I had canoed there the day before. I remembered that he had said that Mountain Lake was special; there was no live bait allowed on that lake.
There was a tiny, sandy beach in front of one of the lakes. I stood there, wondering what to do, waving at bugs, considering my empty water bottle, wondering if I should fill it with lake water. As if I didn't already have enough problems, I had to…...you know. (I’ll save that story for another blog, but let’s just say I took care of that problem and forgot about “leaving no trace.” I had more important issues to address.) Feeling renewed in spirit, but not at all sure of where I was (that damned map was useless!) (Or was it true that the hungry, thirsty, panicky brain does not work at full capacity after all?) I set off in a new direction.
A couple of miles later, I realized I was not getting anywhere. I backtracked to the portage area and wondered if I should go forward, or instead, stay put. (After all, as my son tells me, the first rule in Boy Scout wilderness survival is “hug a tree” when you get lost.) I looked across the lake before me and shouted and whistled with my fingers; no response. I walked over to the other lake and did the same. No response.
Suddenly, I heard a boat motor in the distance. God! Please let it be the DNR patrolling the waters, looking for me! The sound faded. I could wait there to be found, but it was Tuesday. What were the odds of finding fisherman in the middle of nowhere, where there were probably twenty different lakes (actually 34) on a Tuesday?! In the sand at the water’s edge, after much consideration, I wrote, “Barb went this way…7/12” and drew an arrow. I also filled my water bottle with lake water, just in case. I felt a tiny bit silly, but I really was becoming worried. Off I went.
As I walked this now-familiar, yet utterly-tangled path, I really started freaking out. I brazenly spit my gum right in the middle of the trail (it would give the searchers hope, I thought). What if I was stuck out here all night? I thanked God that I had left at 6am and that people might already be looking for me. What time was it? I had no idea. The sun was sort of high in the sky, but it couldn’t be afternoon already, could it?! Finally, I found a marker. I consulted my map, but I did not see “A-Frame” on it. Crap! I decided to go that anyway; an A-frame sounded like a place someone might rent for a week (or at least be a good place to break into, should I be stuck here all night).
After two miles (I was counting my steps.) I suddenly heard and saw a small, private plane flying over the treetops! “Oh, my God! They could be searching for me!” I said out loud. “They are never going to find me in the woods! I need to get back to the portage area, where they could see me!” I mustered up what energy I had left and began to hurry back to the portage area, about three miles back. My hope was renewed, but it soon dissipated, as I did not hear the plane return. I dropped a lot of swearwords on this route. I said some things I would not like my students to hear me say. With a teary lump in my throat, I yelled an apology to Mr. 4444 and the kids for making them worry about me. I decided to stop at the portage and just quit trying to follow that blasted map.
As I approached the portage area, I glimpsed a bit of bright red fabric. Could it be….yes! People!! As I approached, I called out weakly, yet cheerfully, “I am so incredibly lost right now!” The middle-aged fisherman and his friend, both in waders, peacefully fishing from tiny rubber rafts, calmly called back, “Where you comin' from?” I was speechless. I had become choked up at the sign of human beings. I don’t remember what I told him, but I remember clearly what he replied, “Don’t worry. We have a very nice map. We’ll get you back on your way in no time!” This idea struck me with such panic that I began to cry, silently, but not shyly. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, but I needed to make my point; I had no intention of going back into the woods again on my own.
The angler in red got out of his raft and approached me. I blubbered, “I’m sure my husband and kids are really worried about me! I really don’t want to spend any more time in the woods. I just want to get back there.” He gave me one of those awkward, side-armed hugs and said, “It'll be okay.” His friend (I later learned his name to be Mike Donovan) said, “You keep fishing, I’ll take her back in the canoe.” It never occurred to me that he could be a deranged killer or worse; I just gave myself to his care, relieved to leave the woods behind me.
Before long, Mike and I were paddling along in his beautiful, lightweight canoe, which breezed over the water quickly. I helped paddle, even though he told me I didn’t need to; I wanted to hurry. I coveted his bottle of water, tucked into the edge of my seat. After hinting, “Do you think it’s okay to drink this lake water I have?” I was relieved to hear him say, “Oh, just drink mine.” I don’t remember a lot of our conversation; just that he worked for a phone company and lived in Illinois and had some kids. He also told me the time; it was 11:00am, five hours after I had started my hike. I thanked him for helping me, and he said that it was “nothing. What goes around, comes around.”
After about 15 minutes, we glided into our bay. (Luckily, Mike knew the area well, and I knew the name of our campsite, which was, ironically, called "Fisher."). The kids answered my call from the lake and met me with the dog at the water's edge. After a drink refill for Mike and enthusiastic thanks from the four of us, we sent him back to his fishing, but not before he showed us his beautiful topographical map of the area and reminded me to get a GPS. (I think I know what I'm getting for Christmas this year!)
Mr. 4444 said he had been worried, but since he didn’t even know which direction I had headed off in, he felt helpless to do anything about it. Kyle, who had heard me say I’d be gone “an hour or so,” had been worried. Kendall (poor thing) said, “Mom, I thought you were dead.” Needless to say, I was apologetic and relieved. I was also done camping.
I guess I am now, truly, an “experienced” hiker.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Who, Me?! Gosh, Thanks!
Well, lookie what I got; a sweet award from a lurker* named Jewels!
I've somehow got Jewels convinced that I am "honest, real," and funny; what a sweetheart :) Jewels is pretty real and honest herself, as evidenced by this post, which I dug from her archives. (It's her "Before" pic when she cleaned her kids' bedroom!) I also found this gem on her site. I love that Jewels finds time in her very busy day to pop in and read my blog now and then. Thanks, Jewels!! This award is well-timed, because I've been reading some new blogs lately and am happy to have the opportunity to pass them along. Jewels said the "rules" are to give the award to seven people. (Sorry, but I'm going to be a rebel and choose six.)
The first award goes to Weaselmomma, whose is cheerful, funny, and energetic. This woman has FIVE kids and a very active life! She lives in a fantastic neighborhood and often writes of the fun they have. If you're in a bad mood, go to Weaselmomma's site; she's sure to cheer you up.
Next up is DadofDivas, who writes an engaging blog, filled with daddy observations, thoughts on parenting, and just a general positive attitude. DoD is a very nice guy who is always willing to help other people and gives Daddy blogging a good name :)
Janice, of Chasing Myself, gets this award because she is inspiring. Janice is a fighter; she is going to school while trying to be a mom and wife, and getting very little support at home for doing so. In spite of that, she perseveres and refuses to let others' negativity get in the way of her goals. You go, Janice!
I'm so glad So Grateful to Be Mormon is on my blogroll; a daily dose of Kathleen does wonders for the soul. In fact, people who wonder what's so great about blogging or why I would be so anxious to empty my reader should be directed to her blog. Thanks, Beany, for being such a positive leader in the blogging community. (And I'm jealous of all your awards!!)
Must. Choose. Jill!!! Jill (of The Perlman Update) is a breath of fresh air; if you think you are stressed, read her archives and realize that you're a wimp. Jill is moving her entire (military) family across the world and is doing so with finesse! Check out her shopping list, and you will never complain again about having to take a trip to the store.
Karen, at Food Glorious Food and life in general also deserves this award. She is funny, sweet, and brave! The blogosphere is a better place with Karen in it :)
I also want to give a shout-out to Tiffany and Heather, who not only keep up their personal blogs, but are also the masterminds behind The Secret is in the Sauce, which is a source of blogs, yes, but also a community. Tiffany and Heather are making a difference with their brilliant idea of bringing bloggers together to meet, share, and support each other. Their Sunday Shoutout is a perfect example of how these two genuinely care about their members. Heather and Tiffany are cheerleaders of sorts, and they deserve a "You-Ra-Ra!!" Thanks, Ladies for your contribution to blogging. Your efforts are appreciated!
Of course, I could give this award to many others. Every one of you, My Enablers, contributes positively to the blogiverse daily, and I appreciate your humor, insights, and heartfelt posts. You make my day on a regular basis, and I appreciate you :)
*lurker-one who reads a blog but does not typically comment
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Sunday Sampler
Lots of stuff to get out of my head today...
First of all, thanks, Sheri, for finding this excellent, funny article on "How Not to Kiss!" It took me back. (If you read it, please go to Sheri's site and leave a comment; she'd love to hear your kissing horror stories. You'll find my offering here: Worst Dates.)
Second, I'm not sure I'm thrilled with Blogger's new Blogroll feature; I'm just not sure it actually works. If your blog is missing from Some of My Enablers, will you please let me know?
However, I am thrilled that I learned how to list my archived posts by Topic! Check it out by clicking on the Archives by Topic button (you will want to make one!) The code is slightly tricky, but doable.
My laptop (32-day old GATEWAY laptop) crashed on Thursday. The diagnosis from the Geek Squad is that it had a "bad hard drive." Nice. All of my summer pics and email from the last two days...gone. (I guess it could be a LOT worse, though.) And yes, I did buy disks for the express purpose of backing up my hard drive, as "strongly urged" by the little pop-up message on my computer. The disks were sitting right next to the computer (unopened) when it crashed. Had I taken care of it, I would have saved the $145 I'm going to have to pay today to have stuff put back on the computer. Other than that, it was "under warranty." (Well, I should HOPE so!)
And if you're still with me here, your time is going to be worth it. Click here for 31 Days to Becoming a Better Blogger. This article is an excellent resource for bloggers in any stage of the game, offering really useful tips for improving your readership, as well as your blog. Enjoy!
P.S. There are still two weeks left in the SITS Six Weeks of Summer Giveaways! I'm dying to win a new digital camera, but they have also been giving away three $50 TARGET GIFT CARDS each week. All you have to do is say hi and check out featured bloggers, which is easy and fun! If you go there and tell them I sent you, my name goes in the hat an extra time, HINT HINT!
First of all, thanks, Sheri, for finding this excellent, funny article on "How Not to Kiss!" It took me back. (If you read it, please go to Sheri's site and leave a comment; she'd love to hear your kissing horror stories. You'll find my offering here: Worst Dates.)
Second, I'm not sure I'm thrilled with Blogger's new Blogroll feature; I'm just not sure it actually works. If your blog is missing from Some of My Enablers, will you please let me know?
However, I am thrilled that I learned how to list my archived posts by Topic! Check it out by clicking on the Archives by Topic button (you will want to make one!) The code is slightly tricky, but doable.
My laptop (32-day old GATEWAY laptop) crashed on Thursday. The diagnosis from the Geek Squad is that it had a "bad hard drive." Nice. All of my summer pics and email from the last two days...gone. (I guess it could be a LOT worse, though.) And yes, I did buy disks for the express purpose of backing up my hard drive, as "strongly urged" by the little pop-up message on my computer. The disks were sitting right next to the computer (unopened) when it crashed. Had I taken care of it, I would have saved the $145 I'm going to have to pay today to have stuff put back on the computer. Other than that, it was "under warranty." (Well, I should HOPE so!)
And if you're still with me here, your time is going to be worth it. Click here for 31 Days to Becoming a Better Blogger. This article is an excellent resource for bloggers in any stage of the game, offering really useful tips for improving your readership, as well as your blog. Enjoy!
P.S. There are still two weeks left in the SITS Six Weeks of Summer Giveaways! I'm dying to win a new digital camera, but they have also been giving away three $50 TARGET GIFT CARDS each week. All you have to do is say hi and check out featured bloggers, which is easy and fun! If you go there and tell them I sent you, my name goes in the hat an extra time, HINT HINT!
Friday, July 18, 2008
My Black Thumb
See this GORGEOUS Trumpet Vine? It's not mine; it's Mom's. She's given me shoots from it three times, but I have never even been able to keep them alive long enough to plant them! I pretty much kill everything I try to grow, with only a couple of exceptions. There is one plant that I have at school that is thriving, but only because it basically can't be killed and practically grows in the dark (don't ask me what it's called; I am clueless.)
Thankfully, I have Mr.4444 to help. He is SO sweet; he made two raised gardens for me to plant vegetables in. We've had the gardens about two years, and I did manage to grow some nice pear tomatoes, green peppers, jalapenos, and cilantro last year. This year, we got a bit of a late start, and the garden looks pretty pathetic, but I was full of initiative the other day and actually weeded it!
This year, Mr.4444 decided to plant lettuce, carrots, basil, and other goodies. So, I "went to town" weeding and even cut lettuce for our supper! I was a little confused about one row of lettuce; it looked pretty bedraggled, so I cut it down and threw those leaves in the woods. I also saw big, deep deer tracks in the garden and made a mental note to ask Mr.4444 to help me put up the fencing that we had forgotten about.
Lawn mowed, garden weeded, and deck blown clean, I sat down for the first time all day and happily awaited Mr.4444's arrival home to bask in his praise. A neighbor, Ron, stopped by with some homegrown cukes (YUM), and he and Mr.4444 went out to our garden before I could even share my news. Here follows our conversation when Mark came inside, after Ron had left:
Mr.4444 Wow! The deer got into the garden last night and totally munched the radishes!!
Me: Yeah, I saw the tracks. Um...radishes??
Mr.4444: ????
Me: Um...I think I cut those radishes down, thinking they were lettuce!
Mr.4444 shakes his head and laughs. "No wonder. I thought those deer did an incredible job chewing them off so neatly."
Of course, Mr.4444 called Ron later to tell him what I had done. Ron's reply, "Well, tell her we put up the fencing; that should keep her out of there in the future!"
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Naughty Fiona
Several days ago, I was talking with someone about credit cards and signatures. I told her about an experience I once had in Washington State. I was in a gas station with one hand full and the other awkwardly trying to sign a credit card slip. I offered, "Man, my signature isn't even going to be recognizable!" The genius behind the counter said, "Oh, that's okay. The bank never looks at those, anyway."
What?! What a dip! I thought (but didn't say out loud), "Dude! YOU'RE supposed to be the one looking at the signature, not the bank!" What an idiot.
So, the friend laughed at my story and said, "My husband has been signing credit card slips "Prince Charming" for years! No one has ever even noticed, even when they "check" the signature." Now, this idea intrigued me! I decided then and there to give it a try myself. On Tuesday, when I went shopping, I purposely used my credit card (instead of my debit card) at four different stores and signed it, "Princess Fiona."
You have no idea how fun it was to do this! It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. The "Good Girl" in me felt like I was living on the wild side; living dangerously, about to be caught. It was like skinny dipping, or playing a prank on someone; so much fun, mixed with a tad bit of fear.
I'm going to keep doing this, just for fun. I have no idea what I'm going to do if anyone actually looks at my signature and confronts me (maybe tip them for their vigilance or something.) Hopefully, I won't get arrested. Certainly, I'll have to explain myself and offer proper I.D. I don't really know...And I'm okay with that.
Disclaimer: I am in no way recommending that you do this; it's probably illegal. Don't blame me if you get in trouble, and good luck finding me (Princess Fiona's castle is in a very elusive place!)
What?! What a dip! I thought (but didn't say out loud), "Dude! YOU'RE supposed to be the one looking at the signature, not the bank!" What an idiot.
So, the friend laughed at my story and said, "My husband has been signing credit card slips "Prince Charming" for years! No one has ever even noticed, even when they "check" the signature." Now, this idea intrigued me! I decided then and there to give it a try myself. On Tuesday, when I went shopping, I purposely used my credit card (instead of my debit card) at four different stores and signed it, "Princess Fiona."
You have no idea how fun it was to do this! It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. The "Good Girl" in me felt like I was living on the wild side; living dangerously, about to be caught. It was like skinny dipping, or playing a prank on someone; so much fun, mixed with a tad bit of fear.
I'm going to keep doing this, just for fun. I have no idea what I'm going to do if anyone actually looks at my signature and confronts me (maybe tip them for their vigilance or something.) Hopefully, I won't get arrested. Certainly, I'll have to explain myself and offer proper I.D. I don't really know...And I'm okay with that.
Disclaimer: I am in no way recommending that you do this; it's probably illegal. Don't blame me if you get in trouble, and good luck finding me (Princess Fiona's castle is in a very elusive place!)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Web 2.0 and Zombies 101
Many people have expressed confusion over what "Web 2.0" is all about. In case you missed my post on the Cre8buzz "Anthill," I thought I would take some time here to explain Web 2.0, so you can stop feeling stupid when people use the term. I am no computer expert, but I think I know enough to make it understandable for normal people like me. (And yes, I think I AM normal, thank you very much!)
Social networking sites, blogs, bulletin boards, Social Bookmarking, podcasts, Twitter, and wikis are just some of many Web 2.0 tools people can use to network and communicate. To me, they are the "toys" I can use to experience the web to the fullest. They're called Web 2.0 because they are the new technologies that have been developed to enhance the Internet experience and to use it to its fullest extent. New Web 2.0 tools are developed every day.
This is just the basic definition for people like me, who just want to have fun on the web. People who have businesses to grow would be foolish not to understand the wealth of opportunity that Web 2.0 tools provide. I've used Commoncraft.com for the links in this post; they do a fantastic job explaining concepts. Here comes the Zombie part of this post: Commoncraft also has a very funny explanation of Zombies, which I have posted in the past but is worth a replay! In fact, I will post it here for your viewing pleasure at the end of this post!
I learned about Web 2.0 when I took a class last summer. It was a lot of fun, and one of the projects I had to do for the class was explore one of the tools, use it, and report back. That, friends, led to the birth of Half-Past Kissin' Time! So, no more vapid staring and nodding politely when people mention Web 2.0. You're in-the-know! To be in-the-know about Zombies, watch this:
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
In Which I Get Busted
Okay, so you're lying if you say that you do not suck your gut in when you are in public. (That is, unless you have a flat stomach, in which case I'm very jealous!) With no clothes on (and no one looking) I look fine; a great butt, fairly nice legs, but then there's that pesky 4-months-pregnant-looking-belly part. Soooo, I suck my gut in most of the time when I'm in public.
Thankfully, I carry my weight in my middle, so it's a fairly easy place to hide it. I normally wear loose shirts that don't draw attention to my waist. Sometimes, though, I feel like wearing a t-shirt that isn't baggy and un-stylish. Today was one of those days; I wore my cute American Apparel t-shirt, which is just plain and very comfy. Unfortunately, it is not very forgiving, and before I left the house, I made a mental note to suck my gut in when I got to the store.
I was a shopping maniac this afternoon; Office Max, Post Office, Target, Walmart, Gas Station, and Festival Foods. (And it's just now occurring to me that you might be worried that I'm about to share a story like this one. Never fear; this one isn't nearly as bad as that.) Anyway, I'm standing next to my cart in Walmart, contemplating paper toweling, when a woman walks slowly up the aisle.
She recognizes me before I realize that I know her (she is wearing no makeup and is a neighbor I don't know all that well), so she has a couple of seconds before I recognize her. In those two seconds, I notice her eyes are drawn to my stomach and then politely away, but not fast enough. DAMMIT; I had gotten lost in the moment and let it all go; too late to suck it in! I can see from her eyes that she is surprised to see that I have a gut. She recovers quickly, but I see the question in her eyes, "Is she pregnant?" We chat for a moment and move on, but I knew I'd been busted.
This experience was a first for me (as far as I know!); and being outed like that was good for me. Good thing I bought a scale today (before I even got to Walmart), and I worked out this morning for the first time in weeks.
By the time the neighborhood block party takes place in September, I'm hoping to dispel any possible pregnancy rumors...Wish me luck!
Thankfully, I carry my weight in my middle, so it's a fairly easy place to hide it. I normally wear loose shirts that don't draw attention to my waist. Sometimes, though, I feel like wearing a t-shirt that isn't baggy and un-stylish. Today was one of those days; I wore my cute American Apparel t-shirt, which is just plain and very comfy. Unfortunately, it is not very forgiving, and before I left the house, I made a mental note to suck my gut in when I got to the store.
I was a shopping maniac this afternoon; Office Max, Post Office, Target, Walmart, Gas Station, and Festival Foods. (And it's just now occurring to me that you might be worried that I'm about to share a story like this one. Never fear; this one isn't nearly as bad as that.) Anyway, I'm standing next to my cart in Walmart, contemplating paper toweling, when a woman walks slowly up the aisle.
She recognizes me before I realize that I know her (she is wearing no makeup and is a neighbor I don't know all that well), so she has a couple of seconds before I recognize her. In those two seconds, I notice her eyes are drawn to my stomach and then politely away, but not fast enough. DAMMIT; I had gotten lost in the moment and let it all go; too late to suck it in! I can see from her eyes that she is surprised to see that I have a gut. She recovers quickly, but I see the question in her eyes, "Is she pregnant?" We chat for a moment and move on, but I knew I'd been busted.
This experience was a first for me (as far as I know!); and being outed like that was good for me. Good thing I bought a scale today (before I even got to Walmart), and I worked out this morning for the first time in weeks.
By the time the neighborhood block party takes place in September, I'm hoping to dispel any possible pregnancy rumors...Wish me luck!
Monday, July 14, 2008
A few weeks ago, I fell upon a fascinating online magazaine website, Trendhunter.com, which just keeps drawing my interest. (They send a weekly update called Trendcandy, via email.) The blog fodder at this site is so incredible, I almost hate to share it, but it's also too good not to share. Take this week, for example; Trendhunter has a list of 45 of the Most Expensive Things in the World.
Looking to buy a home? This one might not be in the budget, but it sure would be fun to go to the Open House!
It's the "most expensive home for sale in the United States," the "Godfather" home, and coincidentally was once owned by William Randolph Hearst! If you want to see more of this place, you can't, but you could go back and look at my post about Hearst's other property. I'm sure the decor is similar.
Okay, don't have that kind of $ but want to buy the hubby something special for his birthday? Try the most expensive beer available, Sam Adams Utopia. It's $5 per ounce and is 27-proof.
“The first sensations are a viscous mouth feel and a sweet sherry-like flavor with nuances of toffee and maple. There are notes of vanilla and plum and a hint of charred wood..." So there you go; perfect gift for that kind of guy who chews toothpicks!
Something for the little princess? Try the most expensive Barbie Doll in the world. She's half-naked and still costs $85,000.00!
Like to camp out, but hate those dreaded snakes and bears bothering you? Try this amazing treehouse tent, which comes at the bargain price of $50,000!
(Please don't show Mr.4444, because this is just the kind of nutty stuff he'd be interested in, and he'd make me sleep in it with him. He's a big fan of winter camping, too, so please DON'T mention this to him!)
For these and other Most Expensive Things in the World, go to this link at Trendhunter.com.
Looking to buy a home? This one might not be in the budget, but it sure would be fun to go to the Open House!
It's the "most expensive home for sale in the United States," the "Godfather" home, and coincidentally was once owned by William Randolph Hearst! If you want to see more of this place, you can't, but you could go back and look at my post about Hearst's other property. I'm sure the decor is similar.Okay, don't have that kind of $ but want to buy the hubby something special for his birthday? Try the most expensive beer available, Sam Adams Utopia. It's $5 per ounce and is 27-proof.
“The first sensations are a viscous mouth feel and a sweet sherry-like flavor with nuances of toffee and maple. There are notes of vanilla and plum and a hint of charred wood..." So there you go; perfect gift for that kind of guy who chews toothpicks!Something for the little princess? Try the most expensive Barbie Doll in the world. She's half-naked and still costs $85,000.00!
Like to camp out, but hate those dreaded snakes and bears bothering you? Try this amazing treehouse tent, which comes at the bargain price of $50,000!
(Please don't show Mr.4444, because this is just the kind of nutty stuff he'd be interested in, and he'd make me sleep in it with him. He's a big fan of winter camping, too, so please DON'T mention this to him!)For these and other Most Expensive Things in the World, go to this link at Trendhunter.com.
Weekly Winners (a day "late")
A while back, Sarcastic Mom started a Sunday idea called Weekly Winners, which invites bloggers to post favorite photos taken that week. That sounds good to me today, since I took a few. Here's my contribution.
After the thunderstorm...
Two days later...
Absolutely delicious Chicken Enchilada Quiche supper one night, recipe courtesy of Saucy Chef, Nonna. (Don't let the dark colors scare you; I used red, white, and blue corn chips! I also used cut up chicken from dinner the night before, instead of canned.)
Sunday's Catches of the Day...(ignore the finger; I swear it was unintentional!)
For other bloggers' Weekly Winners, check this out!
After the thunderstorm...
Two days later...Absolutely delicious Chicken Enchilada Quiche supper one night, recipe courtesy of Saucy Chef, Nonna. (Don't let the dark colors scare you; I used red, white, and blue corn chips! I also used cut up chicken from dinner the night before, instead of canned.)Sunday's Catches of the Day...(ignore the finger; I swear it was unintentional!)For other bloggers' Weekly Winners, check this out!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A Life Lesson Remembered
So Grateful to be a Mormon recently wrote a post about being grateful for little things and keeping your eyes open to the good things around you. This reminded me of a life lesson that I learned a while back.
Mr.4444 and I each grew up in Green Bay, Wisconsin. If you know anything about Green Bay (and Wisconsin, in general) you know that people are friendly; you will never stand in a line in Green Bay for more than five minutes without learning something personal about the person in line in front of you or behind you (or both.) Mark and I are no exception; we are both very friendly and talk to strangers on a regular basis. We are "people persons."
In 1990, Mark and I got married and made a home in tiny Hoopeston, Illinois, where Mark had landed his first "real job." Hoopeston (125 miles south of Chicago) was the self-proclaimed "Sweetcorn Capital of the World," but was really just 7000 people living in the middle of an enormous cornfield in the middle of a flat, flat state. Because of a Kentuckian influence, people there called us "Borb and Mork." These friendly folks used expressions like, "We was fixin' to" and "it's clear over yonder." Mark worked as an inside salesman for a company called FMC, which played a large role in the Hoopeston economy. I took a job at a group home for boys, in nearby Danville, Illinois (a 20-minute drive).
As I said, Hoopeston was (and still is) a tiny little town and very blue-collar. People who didn't work in the FMC factory worked at the local grocery stores, Pamida, American Can and Stokely's canneries, or drove to Danville to do similar work. College-educated and from the "big city," compared to Hoopeston, I thought the people there were nice and all, but I did not see myself belonging there; I was more "sophisticated" than those people. I considered Hoopeston a stepping stone for Mark career-wise; I figured we would live there maybe a year or two and then move up.
I had already moved a bunch of times in my young adult years; I expected to move again. I didn't even hang things on the walls in our home (we rented 1/2 of a house). I went to my job every day and developed one close relationship there, but overall, I mostly kept a polite distance from folks in Hoopeston. "Why bother developing friendships here?" I figured to myself. "We'll be moving away before long." I didn't exactly avoid people, but I did not go out of my way to nurture friendships in Hoopeston (although Mark did).
Three years later, FMC moved Mark to an Outside Sales position, and we headed to upstate New York. We were excited; a young "yuppie" couple, moving to the glamorous state of NY. We moved into a duplex in the bedroom community of Ballston Spa, and I started a new job in Schenectady. The business of moving took up a lot of our time at first, but soon, we were ready to meet our neighbors. We met the people next door; the Martins, who were friendly, yet private. In spite of our efforts to befriend other neighbors, though, we were met with a seeming indifference. People just weren't friendly! We'd pull in the driveway and wave to a neighbor, only to be ignored. Two neighbors could be blowing snow side by side and never even nod acknowledgement of each other. After a year, we finally became polite friends with our neighbors on the other side of us. This was really weird for us; not being super friendly with our neighbors. The isolation was amplified when I went on bedrest for three months with my first pregnancy and Mark was still traveling a lot for work.
When we moved again to Webster, New York, I did make a good friend (in Kandee), and we had one "couple" friend, but in general, we were lonely (me, especially, since Mark still traveled a lot on business.) We were two very social people in an area where people were private and kept to themselves, for the most part. More and more, I began to appreciate those "simple" folks from Hoopeston. Suddenly, those "country people" became smarter than I was; they knew the true value of friendship. Unfortunately, it was too late; I had avoided setting roots down in Hoopeston because I kept looking to the future, instead of appreciating what I had in front of me all along. It took moving to New York state to learn how foolish I had been.
This was a life lesson I have never forgotten. First of all, I learned that you should appreciate what you have when you have it; you might not always be so blessed. I also learned to embrace the love and friendship that is offered to me, always, and to reach out to others who might be isolated in our community. I learned that it's wrong (and stupid) to think someone's friendship is not worth your trouble or that you are any better than someone else, just because you have a higher status job or more education. I'm ashamed of my attitude back then, and I am grateful to God for straightening me out in a gentle, yet clear way.
Just some food for thought...
Mr.4444 and I each grew up in Green Bay, Wisconsin. If you know anything about Green Bay (and Wisconsin, in general) you know that people are friendly; you will never stand in a line in Green Bay for more than five minutes without learning something personal about the person in line in front of you or behind you (or both.) Mark and I are no exception; we are both very friendly and talk to strangers on a regular basis. We are "people persons."
In 1990, Mark and I got married and made a home in tiny Hoopeston, Illinois, where Mark had landed his first "real job." Hoopeston (125 miles south of Chicago) was the self-proclaimed "Sweetcorn Capital of the World," but was really just 7000 people living in the middle of an enormous cornfield in the middle of a flat, flat state. Because of a Kentuckian influence, people there called us "Borb and Mork." These friendly folks used expressions like, "We was fixin' to" and "it's clear over yonder." Mark worked as an inside salesman for a company called FMC, which played a large role in the Hoopeston economy. I took a job at a group home for boys, in nearby Danville, Illinois (a 20-minute drive).
As I said, Hoopeston was (and still is) a tiny little town and very blue-collar. People who didn't work in the FMC factory worked at the local grocery stores, Pamida, American Can and Stokely's canneries, or drove to Danville to do similar work. College-educated and from the "big city," compared to Hoopeston, I thought the people there were nice and all, but I did not see myself belonging there; I was more "sophisticated" than those people. I considered Hoopeston a stepping stone for Mark career-wise; I figured we would live there maybe a year or two and then move up.
I had already moved a bunch of times in my young adult years; I expected to move again. I didn't even hang things on the walls in our home (we rented 1/2 of a house). I went to my job every day and developed one close relationship there, but overall, I mostly kept a polite distance from folks in Hoopeston. "Why bother developing friendships here?" I figured to myself. "We'll be moving away before long." I didn't exactly avoid people, but I did not go out of my way to nurture friendships in Hoopeston (although Mark did).
Three years later, FMC moved Mark to an Outside Sales position, and we headed to upstate New York. We were excited; a young "yuppie" couple, moving to the glamorous state of NY. We moved into a duplex in the bedroom community of Ballston Spa, and I started a new job in Schenectady. The business of moving took up a lot of our time at first, but soon, we were ready to meet our neighbors. We met the people next door; the Martins, who were friendly, yet private. In spite of our efforts to befriend other neighbors, though, we were met with a seeming indifference. People just weren't friendly! We'd pull in the driveway and wave to a neighbor, only to be ignored. Two neighbors could be blowing snow side by side and never even nod acknowledgement of each other. After a year, we finally became polite friends with our neighbors on the other side of us. This was really weird for us; not being super friendly with our neighbors. The isolation was amplified when I went on bedrest for three months with my first pregnancy and Mark was still traveling a lot for work.
When we moved again to Webster, New York, I did make a good friend (in Kandee), and we had one "couple" friend, but in general, we were lonely (me, especially, since Mark still traveled a lot on business.) We were two very social people in an area where people were private and kept to themselves, for the most part. More and more, I began to appreciate those "simple" folks from Hoopeston. Suddenly, those "country people" became smarter than I was; they knew the true value of friendship. Unfortunately, it was too late; I had avoided setting roots down in Hoopeston because I kept looking to the future, instead of appreciating what I had in front of me all along. It took moving to New York state to learn how foolish I had been.
This was a life lesson I have never forgotten. First of all, I learned that you should appreciate what you have when you have it; you might not always be so blessed. I also learned to embrace the love and friendship that is offered to me, always, and to reach out to others who might be isolated in our community. I learned that it's wrong (and stupid) to think someone's friendship is not worth your trouble or that you are any better than someone else, just because you have a higher status job or more education. I'm ashamed of my attitude back then, and I am grateful to God for straightening me out in a gentle, yet clear way.
Just some food for thought...
Family Fun, Reunion-Style
Last night, some of my cousins and I got together to tie up loose ends for the biennial "Draeger Descendant's Reunion," which is scheduled to take place the first weekend in August. I have 34 cousins on my mom's side, and we're all adults with families of our own now, so we rent out an entire YMCA camp for the event. Everyone arrives Friday night and sets up camp. This year, on Saturday morning, everyone will be invited to a "Make Your Own Omelet" breakfast. Also new this year will be morning Tai Chi lesson, just for those interested. The rest will just hang out, catching up with cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.
This year's gathering is sure to be a great time, and to get in the mood, I looked through photos from years past...
My cousin-in-law, Tama is always kind enough to bring her henna tatooing talents; there's always a line of people waiting for one of these:
Waiting patiently, Aunt Pat wondered, "Will this be the Harley tatoo I have always wanted??"
Others head to the archery range or swimming in the bay, but there's always the uncles who would rather sit and shoot the breeze....
After lunch (a group effort), everyone looks forward to the Family Olympics!! Last time, we started with the Balloon Pass. Mark's team seemed up for the challenge, though Carli wondered, "Will there be any cute boys at the talent show tonight??" 
These two proved that kids the same size have an easier time of it.
Would Aunt Donna deliver??
And a hot summer day needs a water relay, right?
Yes, of course there's the three-legged race!!
There are always plenty of medals to go around...
Obviously, the Family Olympics are a blast, but for many, the event we all look forward to is the Saturday night Talent Show. Let me tell you, there is a lot of talent in this family. Mom is always the Master of Ceremonies, and everyone is welcome to get in the line-up. There's singing, dancing, skits, and general hilarity. I'm so excited, as this year, Kendall and I are planning to sing together (a first for us!)
There are always plenty of medals to go around...Obviously, the Family Olympics are a blast, but for many, the event we all look forward to is the Saturday night Talent Show. Let me tell you, there is a lot of talent in this family. Mom is always the Master of Ceremonies, and everyone is welcome to get in the line-up. There's singing, dancing, skits, and general hilarity. I'm so excited, as this year, Kendall and I are planning to sing together (a first for us!)A blogger called Blessed1 writes a Faithful Fridays post in which she writes about things she is thankful for. TerriTerri has followed suit, but she calls hers "Quit Your Bitchin' Friday." I've told you about our reunion; I'm very thankful for my extended family and the love and fun we share. What are you thankful for this summer?
Friday, July 11, 2008
Questions and Answers
No, I'm not going to ask you to ask me stuff (although you can if you want to). I've just had it in my mind to share some recent positive experiences (and one negative) with some businesses. And let me assure you that no one has paid me or bribed me or given me any freebies to talk about this stuff. (Get a pen; you might want to write some stuff down.)
First, a Question: Why Doesn't Remington answer my email? I thought I was polite. I've given it a week. But I am not one to mess around with, so now I'm going to let you know why you should avoid buying one of these:
It's the Remington "Smooth & Silky."
Don't worry, husbands, I'm not suggesting that your wife let herself grow into a woolly, Brillo-pad mess. I like to shave (in the summer) as much as any other woman, but I just wouldn't recommend this particular product. I bought it a month ago and loved it at first; it did the trick. However, when I stood it on the counter one day, it wobbled over and fell off, breaking part of it; it's top heavy. My fault, I thought; it wouldn't be right to return it. I just stuck some duct tape on it and carried on. But then, it happened again, and I realized that this product isn't ergonomically designed correctly; it doesn't stand up by itself, and should have a base. For $40, don't you think it should stand up and act right?! My sister has a Lady Remington; it has a base and I've heard no complaints from her. I want to know if Remington is going to respond to my email.
Question: Would you like to stop receiving forwarded emails from that friend/family member who keeps blindly flinging that crap to every email address they can find? A fellow Buzzer/Genius wrote a post on the Cre8buzz Anthill. She wrote about how to get those annoying forwards to stop, and she shares a wonderful website that will anonymously, politely, gently-but-firmly get those frequent offenders to stop. It's called StopForwardingUs, and it's free. Check it out!
Here's a Question: Why does everyone use Google for Internet searching when Dogpile searches Google, Yahoo, LiveSearch, and Ask and gives you just as good information? Maybe people just don't know about it? We've used Dogpile for years and love it, so I thought I'd pass that on.
Finally, here's an Answer for anyone looking for a really fun, friendly, active social network for bloggers. I seriously LOVE Cre8buzz; since joining, my readership increased about 20%, but more importantly, I've developed friendships that I hope to have for years to come. Most of my blogroll comes from Cre8buzz folks, as a matter of fact.
At Cre8buzz, you can sign up in a category (I'm in Moms, for example), but you can (and should) cross categories to meet all kinds of funny, entertaining, smart community members. Not a mom? Other categories include Photography, 20-Something, Entrepreneurs, Real Estate, Crafters, Beauty, Fitness, Women, and Pets, to name a handful. Buzzers can also go to the Anthill, "Where the Ants Go to Speak" and post at the community blog, which brings attention to your blog, yes, but also exposes you to bloggers of all types and backgrounds. Check out my Buzz profile, and look at my "Friends" to see Birdie, Jen, Tena, Dad of Divas, and other fun bloggers and find out what "The Buzz" is all about!
So there you have it; more questions than answers, I'm afraid, but hopefully something helpful for everyone. It's going to be too hot today to do anything outside anyway, so check this stuff out! :)
First, a Question: Why Doesn't Remington answer my email? I thought I was polite. I've given it a week. But I am not one to mess around with, so now I'm going to let you know why you should avoid buying one of these:
It's the Remington "Smooth & Silky."Don't worry, husbands, I'm not suggesting that your wife let herself grow into a woolly, Brillo-pad mess. I like to shave (in the summer) as much as any other woman, but I just wouldn't recommend this particular product. I bought it a month ago and loved it at first; it did the trick. However, when I stood it on the counter one day, it wobbled over and fell off, breaking part of it; it's top heavy. My fault, I thought; it wouldn't be right to return it. I just stuck some duct tape on it and carried on. But then, it happened again, and I realized that this product isn't ergonomically designed correctly; it doesn't stand up by itself, and should have a base. For $40, don't you think it should stand up and act right?! My sister has a Lady Remington; it has a base and I've heard no complaints from her. I want to know if Remington is going to respond to my email.
Question: Would you like to stop receiving forwarded emails from that friend/family member who keeps blindly flinging that crap to every email address they can find? A fellow Buzzer/Genius wrote a post on the Cre8buzz Anthill. She wrote about how to get those annoying forwards to stop, and she shares a wonderful website that will anonymously, politely, gently-but-firmly get those frequent offenders to stop. It's called StopForwardingUs, and it's free. Check it out!
Here's a Question: Why does everyone use Google for Internet searching when Dogpile searches Google, Yahoo, LiveSearch, and Ask and gives you just as good information? Maybe people just don't know about it? We've used Dogpile for years and love it, so I thought I'd pass that on.
Finally, here's an Answer for anyone looking for a really fun, friendly, active social network for bloggers. I seriously LOVE Cre8buzz; since joining, my readership increased about 20%, but more importantly, I've developed friendships that I hope to have for years to come. Most of my blogroll comes from Cre8buzz folks, as a matter of fact.
At Cre8buzz, you can sign up in a category (I'm in Moms, for example), but you can (and should) cross categories to meet all kinds of funny, entertaining, smart community members. Not a mom? Other categories include Photography, 20-Something, Entrepreneurs, Real Estate, Crafters, Beauty, Fitness, Women, and Pets, to name a handful. Buzzers can also go to the Anthill, "Where the Ants Go to Speak" and post at the community blog, which brings attention to your blog, yes, but also exposes you to bloggers of all types and backgrounds. Check out my Buzz profile, and look at my "Friends" to see Birdie, Jen, Tena, Dad of Divas, and other fun bloggers and find out what "The Buzz" is all about!
So there you have it; more questions than answers, I'm afraid, but hopefully something helpful for everyone. It's going to be too hot today to do anything outside anyway, so check this stuff out! :)
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
So you think you can dance?
This video will make you smile, I promise. (turn on your sound if you can)
Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.
Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Mostly-Wordless Wednesday
This is what happens when you are away at camp and your mom misses you; she posts an embarrassing childhood photo. Kyle was two in this photo. He entered the playroom completely dressed. This is how he came out; these three items....
And yes, we did feed him (even twice per day, sometimes!) He has gained little weight since; today he is 6 feet tall and weighs about 140 pounds.
For the record, he doesn't dress like this anymore...
And yes, we did feed him (even twice per day, sometimes!) He has gained little weight since; today he is 6 feet tall and weighs about 140 pounds. For the record, he doesn't dress like this anymore...
Monday, July 7, 2008
A Hero for Moms and Dads Everywhere
This woman is my hero. She's forty-one years old, has a 18-month old baby, and is a strong competitor in the 2008 Olympic swimming trials. She's amazing! Check out this video interview with former and hopeful Olympian, Dara Torres.
Bachelorette Fan? Please send your condolences to Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy; we had a bet, and she lost. (In case you Tevo'd it, I won't blow the ending!) Loser has to send the winner (that's ME) something from her home state. I can't wait to get my prize!! :)
And look who was inspired by My Deepest Shame! Check out Jess's mess transformation! Now, where's yours??
Aged Olympians - Dara Torres is 41 & Hot as Ever (VIDEO)
And while we're on the topic of swimming, Bee wrote a great post about pool etiquette. Check it out here. Feel free to recommend other funny "pool posts," and I'll link them here.Bachelorette Fan? Please send your condolences to Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy; we had a bet, and she lost. (In case you Tevo'd it, I won't blow the ending!) Loser has to send the winner (that's ME) something from her home state. I can't wait to get my prize!! :)
And look who was inspired by My Deepest Shame! Check out Jess's mess transformation! Now, where's yours??
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