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Upon his arrival, the following conversation took place:
Him: I see you got a window covering
Me: Yeppers. I'm pretty proud of myself. Only $12.97!
Him: It's nice! But you can still see into the house from outside.
Me: What? It's a matchstick blind! They can't see much! Besides, we have a big tree in front of that window.
Him: But I want to be able to walk around in my underwear and I don't like the idea of someone seeing me.
Me: They can't see you, babe. Relax.
Him: Go outside. I will get naked and walk across the kitchen.
Note to self: Matchstick blinds make the Mr. want to get naked. Maybe I'm on to something !
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I need some of the white stuff. I've been on the edge for the past week being tortured by this desire to have it, and having it dangled in front of me, never quite able to get any. I can smell it. I can almost taste it. I. am. so. CLOSE!
It seems I would have to live in Alaska to really get me some.
What? I'm talking about SNOW you pervs! Wow and I thought *I* had a dirty mind!
The chill is in the air (and has been for a good week now). I don't mean the standard 40 something degree temps Oregon usually gets this time of year. No, friends...I'm talking the 15-25 degree weather that brings me some SNOW, BAYBEE!!
(This was the last good snowstorm we had in 2006)
The Portland area typically only gets a mini-coating about once or twice per year, and then it's just enough to cause a 2 hour delay for schools and stupid people to get in their cars so they can make me angry (Seriously, folks...am I the only one in this state to remember to slow the flock down when it's icy? Turn INTO the direction you're skidding? Maybe tap your brakes instead of slamming on them? Asshats.)
So the weather has been telling us for a week now that TODAY IS THEEEEE DAY!!! We are expecting a light dusting of snow tonight and possibly more on Saturday!
I am beyond stoked and cannot wait to bust out the camera and get me some macro shots of EVERYTHING with icicles and water droplets. I do love me some macro shots! In fact, maybe I need a new camera...
Anyhoo...in addition to the lovely white stuff I am expecting, we're gettin us some green stuff too. Sadly, not the kind I can spend on
The girls have been happily
I do, however, have a great post planned regarding my "party" next week and the various items available for purchase. A little tour of my secret box of fun, if you will. Stay tuned!
So the painting shall be lettuce green with teal accents. Don't look at me that way, I didn't pick it. I do get to pick the shade for OUR room, which should be painted by Saturday's end. I shall post pictures!
As for the snow, I think I might need to go get me some boots, 'cause the only thing I have in my closet (being from Oregon) are Birkenstocks. And socks.
No, not really.
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Ok so I'm not very original. Interesting, stunningly beautiful and incredibly witty, yes, but original...notsomuch.
My own version of Lara's Googlage is simply a must after visiting my statistic page today.
Here are some...brow raising...ways people have stumbled across my blog in their desperate search for, well, something completely different than my blog.
TSM interview questions -Are you seriously searching for THIS ? Wow...you need a hobby.
Lindsay TSM -Ok now, this confuses me. Is there such a person as Lindsay TSM? Or are there others equally confused about the necessity for a stunt double for Lindsay Lohan?
Positioning -Try HERE . I think they would have MUCH better advice on that particular subject.
my husband embarasses me when he speaks -Oh, how I understand. Not that I can relate, because the Mr. rarely speaks. Perhaps you should talk to him about how much I embarass HIM when I speak.
no sense sentences -mean you that say nonsense words to make sentences?
what does tsm stand for sex-I firmly believe that it should be had-and often .
darlene tsm naked-I'm relatively sure that I have never been naked with Darlene. In fact, the only Darlene I know is from church and I can assure you that, if we have ever been naked together, you certainly won't find THOSE photos on the net. Nice try, though.
somethin porn-A word of advice-try something simple like www.(insert graphic word for lady bits or sexual act here).com. I'm guessing you'll win the porn lottery. And since when did I mention porn on my site? Oh...yeah. That's right. Nevermind.
tsm ass -The world simply isn't ready, my friend.
sentences that make no sense-I believe we covered that already.
last words in wreck hold my beer i m gonna try something-it's not the last words before a wreck...it's most popular last words of a REDNECK. Jeez.
long sentences that make no sense-are you serious?
she swallowed it whole!-the "she" in question was my dog. And while it was a bone, it was a PORK bone. NO!!! Not in a dirty way! An actual pig bone! Gosh you guys have GOT to get your minds out of the gutter.
leaking naked men-.blink.blink. I'm speechless.
And finally...
what does tsm sex mean?-Oh, internets...tsm sex means hours upon hours of naked, sweaty bliss. And then several doses of advil and a really good meal. Followed by a Heroes marathon. I'm all a flutter just thinkin about it!
Well, that's just about it for my Search Stats. I figure by mentioning porn, politics, sexual positions and sentences that make no sense, I should have massive traffic coming straight from Washington DC in no time at all.
Cheers!
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A handly little fact I've discovered:
Emotional pain is connected to escape.
Escape is connected to drinking and smoking too much.
Drinking and smoking too much is connected to ulcers.
Ulcers make your stomach feel like a punching bag. You also lose your appetite.
Losing your appetite and feeling like utter shite makes you lose weight.
By George, I think I'm onto something...
Now if only the leaky glasses at home refilled themselves like the magical ones at the pub...then we'd really be talkin turkey.
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Oh internets. You haven't abandoned me! My cup overfloweth! Thank you for your warm wishes and encouragement. Though it indeed sucketh to be in the Pit of Despair (note the Princess Bride reference), it is somewhat good to know that I do not suffer alone.
The following dialogue is a rough simile of a conversation had last night:
Me: I've decided to make some changes in my life. I realize I am escaping to the pub (and Jack Daniels, my secret lover) and anyplace else I can go when things feel overwhelming to me here, and I don't want to do that. Especially since you really don't like me
Him: Mmm hmm. (looks at my curiously).
Me: So I've made an appointment with pastor Bob to talk about my life and some of the choices I'm making now, and about leading worship and how amazing it feels...and I just think I want to do some things differently so that I can really feel good about what I'm doing up on the platform, and what happens here at home.
Him: Okay.
Me: There is one thing, though. I don't want this to be a one-sided thing. Part of the reason I want to escape (as we've discussed numerous times) is the fact that when I'm home, my house is a wreck and I feel very lonely and overwhelmed and such. When I'm out I am waited on hand and foot. There's always someone asking me if they can get me something, telling me to sit down and relax and how fantastic I am. That is a serious plus when dealing with chronic pain. And...people like me! Basically I'm saying that maybe we should look at some ways that you can be part of this renewing of the mind thing. Maybe look at how you do things, too, and make a few changes. For the greater good, you know.
Him: Like what?
Me: Like when we talked the other day and you said that you felt that the work I do from home, though it is for long hours, leaves me more free to get up and take breaks and leave the house when I want to. The idea that you somehow saw my work as less stressful and less difficult than yours...well, honestly, it made me feel sort of devalued.
Him: What? (Oh crap. Why can't I keep my mouth shut?) If I had known you would use it against me I never would have told you that.
Me: No...wait...that's not what I'm trying to say...I just need to be able to tell you how I feel about this...I want things to be better. They're not bad, and you're not an oaf, it just hurt my feelings.
Him: You make it sound like I do nothing for you. I just can't win.
Me: Honey, if I come to you with something from my heart and you react defensively like this, it hurts. If I continually get hurt when I open up and talk to you, I'm afraid I'll just stop coming to you.
Him: The same can be said for you taking what I told you and turning it around on me. I'll just stop sharing my feelings about things.
*sigh*
Me: Nevermind.
It's not just this situation. I feel this way about a great many things in my life. Escape is my mantra right now, and it has to stop. Vacations are great, but you can't live there. Not without a sugar daddy.
So who wants to be my sugar daddy? Anyone?
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The easy answer to that question is lost. Very lost.
There are so many things I simply cannot discuss on this blog, and it's frustrating. Why did I start blogging if I can't spew my verbal vomit all over the internet? Sadly, anonymity isn't as anonymous as it used to be. Therefore, you'll simply have to settle for some cryptic posts until I find me a new bloggy spot where I can
Needless to say, life has been such a whirlwind lately. So much so that I haven't sat my butt down long enough to write a new blog entry, leaving any of my faithful readers who might actually still visit this sad excuse for a blog out in the cold. For this, I apologize.
I tried to write music today. Tried, and failed. It's as if the tap has been turned off. The creative flow blocked, etc. I feel robbed, only rightfully so. This musical ability to express myself in song has always been such a lifesaving outlet that I'm feeling almost crippled by the lack of it. I can blip out music and lyrics, but they're ridiculous and make no sense. Why, you ask? I'm guessing that since music is a God-given ability, and I've chosen to back off a bit from that relationship that perhaps He has stood back and let me do what I will, reaping those consequences. And what consequences they are, indeed. I think today the point was finally made.
Now, what will I do with this revelation? If history is any indicator, probably piss it away with every other good bit of information I've ever received.
Because I'm nothing if not self important, no?
Wallowing in self-loathing,
TSM
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They're 30,000 feet above me right now. More specifically, above Texas. At least, that's what the airline tracking system says. They will be landing in about 30 minutes or so.
Every year I ship them off to enter a world of Nascar and mullets, Busch beer and go carts, to spend time with the other half of their DNA, and every year I wring my hands until I know they're safe. Well, as safe as they can be with a man who wears a mullet.
(Most famous last words of a redneck: "Y'all hold my beer...I'm gonna try sumthin'")
(Second most famous last words of a redneck: "Y'all watch this...I'm gonna try sumthin'")
I've heard so many mothers describe the worry that accompanies motherhood and how it doesn't go away as they get older, it just changes. Personally, I think it's our acceptance that changes because our power to do anything about their choices and safety becomes next to nothing as they become adults.
But these dear ones are not adults. Yet. True, they're well on their way. Technically speaking, the 16 yr old could make me a grandmother, except that he has far too much
Case in point: Apparently the young men at the high school think it is some kind of rite of passage to pick an upperclassman and try to rattle him by making a pass at him. Early in the year, a height-challenged freshman came up to my son and said,
"Hey there...you've got quite a nice butt. I bet it looks great in those underwear..what kind are you wearing, anyway?"
My darling son replied,
"Yeah, they're pretty hot. They're leopard print bikinis with a button on the back. When you press it, it goes RAAAWWWRRR." Smiling at the poor, shocked boy, he winked, lifted his hand like a kitty and scratched toward him, and in a husky tone repeated, "Rawr!".
We think we're raising another Dane Cook. Only time will tell.
But I'll tell you what, that won't make a bit of difference if the freaking plane crashes.
Jeez, can't I enjoy ANYTHING?
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I'm tired. Not in the sleep-deprived need-a-valium kind of way, but in the straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back manner. I've had it. Stick a fork in me...you get the idea.
I realize I'm not alone in this, and that this is how everyone probably feels. I'm even less special than I think I am (please...no Jerry's Kids quips). But it doesn't make it any less frustrating that I cannot control my environment. Not even if I own the damn place. It's getting worse, and Mt. Trac-uvious is about to blow and level Pompeii.
This all started because I had to pee. Simple thing, really, this peeing. You simply seat yourself (yes, boys, we like it if you do it, too!) and release your bladder. Heck, I think I mastered that before I ever cracked my first grin. But, you see, I have this habit of looking at the toilet before I sit down. I do live with a couple of boys, ya know. Caution is always a good idea.
As I peered down at the seat and began to pull my drawers down, I realized that, although I just
Then, my eyes caught the bathroom scale. Not that I have any interest in weighing myself, mind you. I simply couldn't see the dial due to the layer of some type of powder someone thought might be fun to dust across the glass and all over the floor around it. Of course, then I had to look at the floor. Apparently, when I installed the toilet all those months ago, I must have missed something, because a portion of the floor around the toilet is now displaying a slightly discolored ring as if water is gathering below it (and knowing my luck, it'll be my ass falling through the floor when it finally gives). The rest of the floor was covered in a similar substance as the back the of toilet, in case I wondered what was sticking to my bare feet.
With a heavy sigh, I turned to
If it were just my bathroom, internets, that's a 30 minute fix. And that would be scrubbing everything. I can handle that. Unfortunately, it's my entire house. It's my entire life. It's me. We're all dirty and grimey and in desperate need of a thorough cleansing.
I think I always feel this way when my two older kiddos get on a plane for the lone star state in November. Something about watching them fly away makes me want to clean up my life so when they come home, they love me more than when they left.
Now...if only I could arrange to leave myself for a week, I might be able to do that, too.
Or at least find a really good maid service. For free .
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I feel a need...a need for handly novelties that sport my company logo in stylish yet sophisticated manner. Promotional items to throw at my lipstick-waving inspiration-raving Independent Sales Directors to make them feel special. Because they are , darnit!
In my vast research, I have found several different companies that provide this service, but by far the one that really got me going was this site for promotional items . It seems that every other website I went to for this type of product (including the girlie-themed pink ones) either had too many products that were hard to sort through, or only had a couple of options that everyone else in my business would be wanting to use.
I loved how this particular vendor of promotional items has everything all stupid-proof (for my benefit, yay!) in neat little categories so that even I can't get lost. Doood...right ON! So now, here I sit, trying to decide between ice picks and beanie hats. Or maybe a tiara.
Either way, if I order 1,000 over at promopeddler.com, I can get a hefty discount. Because who couldn't use an extra hundred tiaras every now and then?
I'll keep you posted...
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I swear, this boy of mine provides me with more resources for this blog than any other aspect of my life. Someday he'll read them all and promptly disown me.
Picture our dinner table. Not the table itself, because it's crappy and needs refinished. Rather, picture the scene at our table while we
Mike begins to laugh to himself, and then, as if aware we were all staring at him, he said, "One of my friends got a virus on his computer...from PORN. And I had to fix it for him
"How do you know he got it from porn?" Dad says.
"Oh, easy!" he replied, "it was called a TROJAN!"
...blink...(insert hysterical laughter here).
When the tears stopped flowing and I could breathe again, the only sentence I could muster was something about he and I talking about the birds and the bees, history and truth in advertising.
Sometimes I just lurve parenting!
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...it's like a fart in church. It happens, we know it happens, we can smell it coming, but we're really helpless to do anything about it. Besides, sometimes, it brings relief.
This is precisely one of the several changes we are in the midst of right now. Nothing as chaotic as buying a house, nothing as profound as going on a mission trip, nothing as miraculous as having another child
He is leaving the world of fast food management to re-join the ranks of retail sales management. Goodbye free food. Goodbye holidays and weekends. Goodbye day-after-Thanksgiving sales. Oh wait...he never froze his butt off at a large box-store at 4:00 a.m. to catch the sales. So that won't change much. What will be thankfully different is his sense of belonging. Because I'll tell you, if any man belongs in a store full of electronics for 12 hours a day, it would be the Mr. He might as well have circuitry for veins and a motherboard for a brain. And not to mention a HUGE hard drive. Wrapping my arms around him and nuzzling my face in his chest when he comes home will inspire a completely different kind of hunger from now on. And with the decreased stress (I hope!), he ought to be more readily available to
Plus he gets a discount. C'mon, daddy, mama needs her an ipod!
Other changes at the house of TSM include the merciless expansion of my ass, the addition of two abandoned kittens ("just until we find them homes" I said...psh...) and my least favorite of all the changes, the change in the Oregon weather.
What's so bad about weather? Besides those perky weather girls and weather men with bad toupees, the weather can make a simple day turn into a nightmare of pain and hopelessness. Much like parent-teacher conferences. And yoga classes.
The cold air has made its way into the Pacific Northwest, and headed straight for my body. Apparently, the Arctic air and Fibromyalgia spend the colder months of each year gettin' busy in my muscle fibers. And lemmejusttellya, they're like teenagers in their parents basement. So I have developed a special frienship with the phamacist and am crossing my fingers and toes that I don't come out of this in the spring with another nasty addiction to add to my collection. Here's hopin'!
Changes both good and not-so-good have arrived, but I find a special comfort in knowing that soon, the discomfort of these changes will be replaced by the chaos brought by changes of another kind alltogether.
They way I see it, as long as none of these changes call me "Grandma", I think we're good.
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As night falls, the sky turns a brilliant mixture of purples and blues. The birdsong is replaced by the sound of crickets chirping, and the nocturnal wildlife begins to stir. The light fades away, replaced by a warm glowing from the windows of our home, evidence of the lives inside continuing, despite the darkness outside.
Marvin the Moth approaches our house, and begins fluttering against the window, trying in vain to gain access to the flame that is our kitchen light. The noise draws my attention, and I study him briefly before heading outside to get a closer look.
He is beautiful in his own way with his wingspan and brown & tan coloring. He is active and strong, and I size him up for what will soon be a sight to behold.
I cup my hands around him and feel him struggle against my palms, trying to get free. Alas, it is too late for Marvin, for he has a date with destiny in the form of Gertie the Garden Spider.
She is stunning and large, easily the size of a half-dollar. She makes her home in the Clematis bush outside our front door, and ha become accustomed to being offered winged creatures nightly by her human roommates.
As I hold Marvin's wings and wiggle him in the web, leaving him free to struggle in vain in Gertie's web, I hear what appears to be moths shrieking in the trees around me. "Oh the humanity!" and "Save him!". But it is too late. Gertie scurries down, sinking her fangs into Marvin as he utters his final words:
Death Resides Here...
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We're turnin up the heat for this one, folks!
I wanna know who makes you " hot and bothered"!
Where are the best blogs about sex? Preferably the married kind, of course. Who makes you laugh about your positioning? Nod your head about embarassing topics and go a little lust-blind thinking about the nasty?
Guess it's a hot topic for me lately, but I wanna know!
My favorite is listed above. I tell ya, those wimmins are the hotnessss!!
Post your favs!
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Here's something you don't want to overhear from the kitchen when you are eating at a restaurant:
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........."Five second rule!"
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The call came in, and I have a clean bill of health! As ecstatic as I was to hear it, I probably sobbed for a half hour releasing all the stress that had built up while I waited.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Worry for nothing? Even if it had been the worst case scenario, would worrying have helped? NO! Be anxious for nothing, says the Bible...a book I need to spend more time reading.
I'm not where I should be, folks. Methinks it might be time for some changes.
Like working out. Starting today. And quitting smoking. And drinking.
Maybe.
Thanks for all the support!
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