Pop Quiz

Confession: I can not resist the urge to take an online quiz. I do not know why, I just can not. If someone posts a Buzzfeed or Zimbo quiz about pretty much anything on the facebook news feed ..I will take it. These quizzes can really tell you a lot about yourself. Note: Surveys  & questionnaires sent by my kids' schools, my bank, and other places go unanswered until the third reminder (or until hell freezes over) before I might complete and return. I have priorities. 

Here is what I have learned about myself over the past few months:

Where I should live; French Polynesia, London, or Wisconsin. Yup, so many similarities between those places. I am literally all over the map on where I should live. I am staying put until at least a common climate theme emerges.

What color am I? Pink. Apparently "pink" best describes my personality. I can agree if it is hot pink. If it is pale pink, probably not.

My superpower is SUPER SMARTS. Agreed. Enough said about that.

Tina Fey would portray me in a movie about my life. I love Tina Fey, but honestly, I am pretty sure she would (and should) turn down a role portraying a blogging, coffee swilling, car pool driving, soccer mom, who attends football games only to watch the marching band at half-time. I am not saying I am not interesting. I am saying it would not translate to the big screen, or the small screen, or even a pod-cast. I consider my life to be part performance art and part circus (minus the clowns). You have to live this to love it.

Characters (these are my favorite type of quizzes to take)

I am Yoda from Star Wars. (awesome)
I am the Count from Sesame Street (1...1 fabulous result!)
I am Roz from Monsters Inc. (she is fabulous)
I am Belle from Beauty and the Beast. (I like to read too)
I am Derek Zoolander. (This result thrilled me to no end. I love Zoolander. I would totally get in gas fight, if gas was not $3.80 a gallon)
I am Jules from Pulp Fiction (from the What Quentin Tarantino Bad Ass Are You?) (amazing)
I am the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz (I love shiny things!!!)

Fictitious Places

If I were at Hogwarts, I would be placed in Hufflepuff. (meh)

If I were in the really glum and factioned Chicago of Divergent, I would be in the Candor faction. (I knew I was not Dauntless (snakes, clowns, birds...the fears are plentiful) or Abnegation (I think of myself often, and actually find selflessness close to impossible unless it is for my family). I do however suffer from the the blessing/curse of saying what I am thinking. When people say, "Be honest", nine times out of ten, they do not mean it. Trust me, most people want sunshine blown up their ass. I am not a very good sunshine blower. On the record, I do not want live in the Chicago of Divergent, it is just too grim.

My favorite fictional place the quiz has deemed livable for me is Stars Hollow. SQUEAK! If you are out of the loop, this is the setting for Gilmore Girls. One of my very favorite shows of all time. I will watch this on NetFlix anytime. The characters, the quaint town, the witty banter, and fast talking...perfection.  I could live in Stars Hollow. Everyone was a little neurotic, but in an adorable way. This is my utopia.

Self-discovery 7-10 questions at a time. That is the beauty of the online quiz. Thank you online quiz makers. You are doing noble work. Keep 'em coming!

Crabby Time Crabbiness

In a perfect world __________________, and we would all be happy.

How many different ways can you fill in that blank? I have several. Today I am suffering with "crabby time crabbiness" (CTC). This was an affliction that my children were plagued with from birth to age five between the hours of 4-6 pm, everyday. It was just a bad time of day. I made up a cutesy name for something that was far from cute. Adult cases of CTC seem to be caused by environmental things, and have no particular time of day that the CTC sets in. My case of CTC seems to have flared at 8am today. It was externally set upon me. So instead of letting the CTC take over my day, I am going to share all the simple, and not so simple things that would happen (or not happen) in my perfect world.

In a perfect world...

• cancer would not even be a thing
• people would use "please" and "thank you" with all requests
• everyone would plan ahead and not create "emergencies" for others
• other people's actions would not effect my mood
• dogs would let themselves outside, and not desperately stare at you
• dinner would make itself
• everyone would love every dinner
• no one would sweat the small stuff
• everyone would be content with what they have
• people would celebrate other's success
• jerks would be all banned to one central area away from non-jerks
• every sandwich would taste like someone else made it, even if you made it yourself
• coffee would always be the right temperature
• the litter box would self-clean (just like the cat)
• dessert would not induce guilt
• crabby time crabbiness would not exist

                                                                        ...and we would all be happy.

Oddly, just making that list has made me feel better. It gave me an attitude adjustment. Some the items are so minor, and some are monumental. Sometimes making a list helps focus what we can, and can not change.

Make your list.
Evaluate it.
Come to terms with things you can not change.
Focus on the things that you can fix.

And always, everyday, count your blessings. Blessings always outnumber annoyances.

I have spent the last three months trying to save a 12 year old laptop.

Yes, it was slow. It never was all that quick. I would really notice when I used my beloved's Mac. However, I am not a Mac person. I am not all, "Apple is the best ever". I do not let myself fall into that lemming way of computing. I also do not think, "Apple is the devil". I have an iPad. I find it very useful. I just like to be diverse in my technology use. I like a good PC. Who does not like something you can fix by shutting it off and restarting it? (Until that stops working too)

Yes, it quit letting me sign in to my blog. It did not stop me from writing, just from sharing.  To be honest, you did not want to hear the horrific thoughts I had during my "repair" phase. It got pretty dark.

Yes, I am not very tech savvy. However, I have learned many things about computers through trial and error...many many errors. I am fully competent in using flash drives to save, and back-up files from a dinosaur computer. Unlike past crashes, I am losing nothing. In fact I may have saved way too much. I suppose I can always lose the flash drives..they are small.

Yes, I hate change. That is pretty much it. I dislike doing things differently.

Yes, I have finally given up...only because Windows XP is no longer going to be supported, and there is not a chance in hell that that poor old laptop will survive a software update. She has been de-bugged, cleaned, rebooted, and refurbished. It is just time to let her go. It is the kindest thing to do. She has typed papers, essays, blog posts, Christmas letters, and countless other documents. I learned how to make a spreadsheet on that computer. I signed up for social media sites on her. I have checked countless e-mails on her. I learned how to search the web on that computer. Online shopping? She was the best. Coupon searches? She was a champ. And now it is time to move on. Mostly for my own sake.

I have invested too much time and caring in an inanimate object that really does not care back. It is like my own personal Her (the movie about a guy that falls in love with an operating system). Sometimes everything is personal, even when it is pretty clear that it is not.

Who has not bargained with a dead car battery?

Who has not cried over a broken coffee carafe?

Who has not felt a little off when they have left there phone at home for the day?

Who has not wept openly when finding a hole in your favorite piece of clothing?

Our things become a little bit of our comfort. We count on our things to be there, and do what they are suppose to do. And if you are a sentimental fool (and many of us are), you want those things to be with you forever. Even though they won't. They are things. Fortunately, I have a very tech savvy daughter that is helping me adjust to my "new normal" on a six year old laptop with Vista that has been sitting around since it was brushed aside for a shiny Mac a few years ago. My daughter really cares, and was starting to think I was never going to move on. At least she knows how dedicated I am. It probably terrifies her.

I am working my way up to Windows 8.1.

Very slowly.

85%

I was reading through some of my previous posts and this one from January 2012 really struck me.  (In a good way, others make me cringe) When I first wrote it I felt some slacker guilt for admitting I am not a real perfectionist, but somehow almost two years later, I want to give myself a high five.  This is why I love writing so much.  It captures moments, and often reminds me that I am not done becoming me yet.  And if you did not read this when it was first published...it is new to you.  ---Allie

Yesterday I had a wonderful talk with an equally wonderful friend. The kind of talk where you cover so many topics, commiserate, celebrate, bitch, praise, and laugh through so much of it. It would be wrong to share any specifics of our long conversation, these are things I hold dear and confidential. Anyway at some point we agreed that we like our lives to be going a solid 85% right. I started by confessing that I am happy with life being at a C+. She then pointed out some truths about me, and it was decided that we are solidly B people. And 85% is a solid B. If everything in life is 85 % good then things are fine. Sure 15% may be utter calamity and chaos, but that can be dealt with as long as the percentage of calamity does not gets larger. It should also be mentioned I am a person that looks at life from a school perspective. Perhaps it my education background or just that I see lessons and test in so many aspects of daily living. Example: The sulky faced, rude clerk at the store that is almost begging you to tell him or her off with their sour demeanor. However, you take the high ground and in your mind assume that something hideous must have happened to this person on the way to work today, so you just say, "Thank you. Have a nice day", at the end of your transaction. You pass. You get 100% for being a civil human being in a frustrating, somewhat hostile situation. There is the glimpse into my very grade based brain that is happy to have an 85% good life.

In truth, how many times in your life can you say everything was going perfect? Maybe as a child, on Christmas. At that point I may have said, "And all is right with the world". Other than that pretty much life consists of taking the bad with the good. Think of the most fortunate person you know. Now think about the thing in their life that you can not deal with or would struggle to deal with. Everyone has something, some have more misfortune or drama than others. However, even those with the most charmed life have obstacles to overcome or learn to live with. Those things just may not be obvious to us. Sure their are people living lives of 95% of everything going well, and they are probably happy. However, their margin of error is only 5%...heck, that could cause this person to completely lose it at some point. Living a solid B life is where I choose to dwell. Perhaps I could strive for more, but my solid B keeps me on the honor roll of life. No one is calling me for "life tutoring", but I am also not getting notes home about not living up to my potential. Perhaps this theory exposes me as a slacker, or maybe just as a total realist. It really does not matter as long as I keep my solid B average. Viva la 85%.

The Name Game

One thing that brings me great pride is my ability to remember people's names.  How I do it?  I am not sure.  My memory is pretty solid when it comes to recalling information specific to people.  I can not remember phone numbers, mathematical formulas, or where my car keys are located.  However, names and faces lock in really well.  Okay, until yesterday.  I was at a meeting for an upcoming marching band competition that is being hosted at my daughter's school.  It was a meeting of all the volunteers.  Meetings and I have a rocky relationship.  I tend to only listen for what I may need to know for my specific position, and ignore the rest.  The game I chose to play last night to keep my facial expressions looking engaged and attentive was, Match the Kid and Parent.  It is fun game.  The kids were all out practicing, so it was more challenging.  Glancing around the room, there were actually many parents I had not met, but not letting that deter me, I studied features and decided who the offspring may be.  (I can not be 100% sure how I scored on the match game since the meeting dismissed before practice and some of the parents escaped).  However, I became distressed when it came to another freshman parent, I know we have been introduced.  I remembered the child's name, and the wife's name (she was not even at the meeting), but the dad's name was gone.  No where could I recall it.  It fell out of my brain. Very frustrating for a person that considers them self a name recalling savant.  I should have been able to shrug this off, but then a sign-up sheet came around and I needed to pass it to "the forgotten-name dad", and he was looking the other direction and did not see the sheet next to him.  Such panic for me. What do I do???

Do I call him Mr. (and the last name which I do remember)?  No, that sounds so teacher-like and not something you do unless your kid is right next to you.

Do I poke him in the arm with a sheet of paper?  No, that is weird.

Do I wait for him to turn around? No, the paper will stop circulating (I like progress to much)

No, I went for the cheap cop out, "Psst...Jack's* Dad".  It worked.  The paper continued to circulate.  However, I am now "that person".  The person who calls people, publicly, by their children's name.

I am not sure if any offense was taken.  Personally, it does not bother me when people call me by my child's name followed by "mom".  I am proud to be their mom. It is an honor.  Frankly, there are so many worse things to be called.  However, I am not sure everyone feels the same.

Being a name recalling savant (up until yesterday), I am not sure how to proceed to relearn this person's name.  I know people I have met several times still ask me my name.  It is annoying for me, but I know many people do not have name recall, so I reintroduce myself (sometimes several times).  It hurts to be so utterly forgettable (not really).  The hardest thing for me is admitting that sometimes my memory for names is fallible.  Ouch, that hurt to write.  Name recall is one of my major functions in my relationship with my beloved.  He is okay with names, but pales in comparison to his name-recall genius wife.  Driving to social engagements it is my job to give him a refresher on who is who.  Pairing the spouses, naming the kids, telling professions...all that stuff.  My beloved is sometimes baffled at how I can spout all of this information, yet forget to buy peanut butter at the grocery, or balance my checkbook (Honestly, I have no idea either, it is just the stuff that sticks in my brain).  We have a great system where I will greet people with their names at events so he can always appear to know who is who. (I share the genius)

Example:
Me: Oh Mary! Great to see you.  Is Bill with you tonight? (best way to pair and locate a partner, who also my have found the open bar. Priorities)
My Beloved: Nice to see you, Mary.  I am going to see Bill.

This is generally a foolproof system, unless Mary and Bill have just filed for divorce.  In which case, I sort of step in it on occasion.  At least I am not poking them in the arm with paper, or asking for their name for the 10th time.

I am going to have to suck it up and ask for re-introduction, or insist my daughter quit the marching band to spare me the shame.  I am going to be so annoyed with myself if it turns out I forgot a name like Mike, Jim, Dan, Tom, Bob, or Dave. (Those are my top six  guessing names)  I am not sure if anyone else on the planet even has "guessing names".  Most people just say, "Sorry, I can not recall your name".  Perhaps no one else has elevated names to an actual game.  



*Name changed.  I do not use the real names of minors, even my own kids on this blog. Ever.

Mommy & We

This week my beloved is traveling on business, which his jobs calls for on occasion.  Many people have spouses that travel far more often than mine, and I am not being "woe is me" about my situation.  My kids are good, helpful, and fun to be around, so we make the best of it.  However, if you are accustom to having another full grown adult around for conversation in the evenings, or to help drive a shift or two for the various activities, it can be a little crazy at times.  I am documenting the days for this trip in my public forum.  In case you never have the opportunity to single parent, you can live vicariously through me.  Or maybe you are a full time single parent and you can call me a whiner.  Either way, I am putting it out there...

Day 1:  No one died today.  My greatest accomplishment was cleaning the bathrooms.  I even washed down the walls and ceiling with a bleach solution.  It all started with a cobweb in one corner of the bathroom, and it became a "If You Give a Pig a Pancake" situation. (If you do not understand that children's literature reference, get yourself to the local bookstore and read it.  You can just stand in the aisle and read it, tell them I said it was okay).  Anyway, the bathroom is so clean I could have served dinner off the floor.  I did not.  We went out for chicken shwarma.  It is my comfort food, garlicky chicken and pita bread.  Happy.  My daughter talked about the upcoming Homecoming dance and who was going with whom, and how she likes her dress so much because it's "classy not trashy"...(you bet it's classy.  I paid for a classy dress.  Like I am letting my kid out of the house looking like a Vegas showgirl? No offense to the showgirl population).  My son asked at least fifteen questions about dances.  What it's it?  Where is it?  Do you have to have date?    Do you have to wear shoes?  Are there teachers at the dance?  What if the music is bad?  If you do not dance do you have to leave? Can I go see the dance?  Why not?  Why are you so mean?  Why can't I ask anymore questions?  People who ask a lot of questions learn the most.  No, I do not want to get punched.  That was a stupid question.  It was enjoyable to see someone else in the hot seat getting rapid fire questions, but when the threats of violence erupted, I stepped in and fixed it.  Everyone showered, and then bedtime.
Day 2:  No one died today, but threats were made.  I met my friends for coffee, it was the brightest part of my day.  I love those crazy ladies, mostly because they love this crazy lady right back.  The dog stared at me and then started making gagging noises.  I tried not to take it personally, but it hurt.
Day 3:  3:46am awakened by the cat licking  my nose.  She had done this to my beloved Saturday night.  I was hoping he was just special.  Nope, the cat is a freaky nose-licker.  I sat awake for 30 minutes wondering whether this was a valid reason to return the cat to the animal shelter.  Decided when she starts chewing our faces off I will make a stand.  Re-awoke at 5:30 to start the day.  No one died.  Wednesday is crazy after-school schedule day.  Out of kindness, I brought my daughter a mocha at school where she was waiting for an hour between dismissal and practice.  She appreciated it.  Her friends seemed annoyed that I neglected to get them mochas.  Kids today seem pretty entitled.  I only have resources enough to spoil the two kids I birthed.  No one was lost or left behind.  No panicked calls were made.  I declare victory upon this day.  I am still very suspicious of the cat.
Day 4:  Great victories were achieved before 9am!!!  I had to sign up my Webelos scouts up for some field trips at our local nature center.  The line for this is always HUGE.  I farmed my son off to a neighbor to get him on the bus.  Then I went to wait in line.  Thankfully, another leader from my Cub Scout pack was there.  She was first in line, and people were walking in and lining up with their fellow pack leaders.  My leader friend (and overall awesome person) waved me up.  OH YES!  I am in the front!!! I passed go, I collected my $200.  At the front of the line, still waiting for registration to begin, she explained another leader gave her registrations to turn in for the Bear workshops.  We planned it so I registered all the Webelos I & IIs and she went to the Bear line.  Naturally, being first, we got in to the sessions we needed.  Euphoria, may not even adequately describe the joyful feeling.  I needed this "simple win".  I needed to feel like I got away with something.  Being the solo-parent for four days wears on a person.  My spouse is flying home as I write this post.  I know he is excited to be back home.  I am happy to soon have another adult around.

I give massive amounts of credit to people who walk the parenting path solo everyday.  It is tiresome, and a bit lonely.  I am gladly counting down the hours to the return of dual parenting.

Feline Friday

Massively freaked out!

I am not sure if I am actually get to five random things today, because I am a new mom!   The adorable ball of fluff you are seeing is Zazzles!  So we shall rename the day FELINE FRIDAY.  If you are not a cat fancier, sorry.  You are missing out on some of the most indifferent unconditional love in the world.  I was missing this aloof affection and adoration. We adopted a one year old cat this week.  I had forgotten what younger cats were like.  Our Yoda was 17 years old when she left us, and though I always felt she was rather feisty and spry, I am now being reminded more of what her earlier years were like.  Not that Zazzles is like Yoda...or that I even want that (I do not.  I want to appreciate them as the individuals they are).  However, all cats do certain things as youngsters that fade with age.  The biggest thing is how surprised Zazzles is by the sounds and sights of her new house.  I forget that she is new to house living.  Dishwashers are loud.  Vacuums are terrifying (although I am pretty sure that all of the other humans in my household are equally terrified of the vacuum).  Everything is surprising.  I also forgot how nosy cats can be.  I was accustom to Yoda walking up  going through bags and even my purse.  She gave everything a cursory looking over.  It was second nature.  Yoda also stole pens from my purse, and put them under the dresser in the bedroom. (It has been nice being able to find basic office supplies for the past few months)  Zazzles stalks all bags, bats everything around them, then steals a glance inside and then runs off.  Empty mouthed...so far.  She is not confident in her snooping.  Perhaps in time she will grow more confident in her snooping skills...or perhaps not.  Either way it is nice to have her lovely, indifference in my home.

Relaxed .

Photo Friday

Last week my kids had Friday off of school because it was the end of the semester.  It was rather cold so we resorted to a favorite activity that we do not nearly enough.  Pottery painting!  I just picked up out freshly fired creations.  Mine is the tilted pitcher that I am going to use to refill the water reservoir of the coffee machine.  We currently use a really big plastic cup with the cast of Twilight plastered on it.  We have no more Twilight fans in the house, but it holds a lot of water.  It is currently residing in the recycle bin now that the tilted pitcher is home and ready to be pressed into service.  I did intend to make the stripes in varied widths, because it adds whimsy.  And who does not need more whimsy???

Now if I may direct you attention to the stunning turtle to your left.  This is the fine work of my daughter.  She is in a turtle phase.  She even painted the masked faces of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on her nails recently.  This is as close as she is getting to having a real turtle.  They smell odd, and carry illness.  Please refrain from comments about how cute turtles are and how they make wonderful pets.  I am not adventurous in my pet keeping ways. Cats, dogs, and fish...and the fish was a bit of folly really.  Fish are even too exotic.  So I hope she loves her the turtle she painted.  It is lovely, and odor free.
My son was very happy to see the Iron Man piggy bank.  Iron Man is his favorite of all the super hero types.  He likes that Tony Stark made himself into a super hero through his own thinking and inventing. I suppose that it seems like the most attainable way of becoming an action hero.  He also does not want to subject himself to excessive gamma rays, get bit by a spider, or the other painful ways that mortals become superheros. Yes, we have talked about the best and worst ways to become a super hero.  Thor and Superman had it easy being born into greatness.  I am impressed that he has figured out his limits, but is still striving for being a super hero.  Not to mention Tony Stark has a pretty kick butt collection of cars, and rather plush living conditions.

Happy Weekend.  Don't overdose on chips and guacamole during the Super Bowl.  I am officially rooting for the team coached by a Harbaugh to win.  My odds in Vegas are stellar.

***Note:  I really tried to make the title "Photo Phriday" or "Foto Friday", but I could not stand the cutesy misspelling.  My love for alliteration has it limits.

In MY Opinion...on opinions

As you can see from my title this is going to be a rip roaring, very topical, super important, and possibly life changing post.  If you believe any of this, please direct yourself away from this page now, before the disappointment changes the core of your being.  I can not be held responsible for your declined mental state or that fact that you may, in fact, lose IQ points reading about MY opinion...on opinions.  We have all had those conversations that upon the completion you wished there was some actual way to get the time back, and perhaps a small portion of intelligence that was sacrificed .   You know the person that knows it all, and tells it all...and is exhausting to hear.  You walk away like you have been slugged in the stomach.  Doubled over mentally from having to hear all the "great wisdom" this person possesses.  It is painful.  You wanted to contradict the person, but it would just prolong the conversation you never wanted.  Knowing if you argued an opposing opinion you may appear just as head-strong and thought inflexible as the person that is basically, lecturing you on their topic.  It is a conundrum.  We are all entitled to our opinions, but let us be really honest, some people have really messed up opinions.  My opinions are messed up too.  My worldview is pretty jacked up. (I will provide some examples of my messed up worldview at the end...judge for yourself)  I own it.  It is mine.  I will take it to my grave. I am not often very good at verbalizing my opposing viewpoint to other people's jacked up opinions because I have a sarcastic little monster that lives in me that just likes to poke jabs under the radar.  This is very poor communication, but it makes me happy to just poke.  It could be classified as passive aggressive behavior, and that is a fair assessment.  However, my sarcastic nature keeps me in the quasi-good graces of the ultra-opinionated, "never wrong" people of the world.  The people that truly, honestly believe that their opinions are the gospel truth, and thus should be preached.  Opposing viewpoints are not welcomed by the "never wrongs".  Facts to the contrary are like acid being thrown in their face.  The recoil and counter attack is not worth it for me.  I am not a "never wrong".  I am wrong a lot.  I admit it, apologize if needed, and move on.

There is some notion out there that a personal opinions can not be wrong.  Opinions can be very wrong and misguided.  They can be right to the individual, but that does not make it universally true.  These personal opinions may guide that person, and that is fine as long as that person is aware that the rest of the planet is not held to standards that their opinion sets.  And we can all agree that some people are very misguided, non?  Here are examples of some of my opinions that guide me through my life, but certainly are not universally true...

• There is a limit on how long you can blame your childhood for your adult problems.  The limit is 25 years, if you can not sort yourself out by 25 years of age, get professional help.  Yes, we all have baggage from childhood no matter how idyllic or traumatic.  Get over it.  Go to therapy if you can not put your past in your past.  Life is too short to keep reliving your first 18 years.  Make peace with it, and do better as an adult. (I may expand this one into a full blog post...it is my best opinion...in MY opinion)
• Dark chocolate is better than any other type of chocolate.
• Small dogs are just over needy cats that bark.  If you like small animals, stick with a cat.  Their aloof independence is heartwarming, and they do not pee the floor when guests walk in the front door.
• Men should never color their hair.  Silver hair on a man is sexy.
• You can handle anything for 8 weeks.
• Ride the biggest roller-coaster at least once, and never admit that sucked to those have not tried it.  Seeing their scared faces and slightly pained necks is worth the lie.
• Honesty is the best policy unless you are talking about roller-coasters, pulling a practical joke, or are trying to get out of a conversation with a "never wrong"  
• It is okay to wear gold and silver jewelry at the same time.
• Toe rings are wrong.
• It is okay to be wrong.  Sometimes it can be fun. 

So those are some of my opinions.  I told you some are pretty jacked up, and I am fine with it.  If you do not agree with me...don't be me.  See how easy that was?  

Obsessed with Socks

My sister gave me a great pair of blue striped socks for my birthday.  You may be thinking, "Big deal. Socks."

Yes!  Big huge, super awesome deal.  These are the best socks ever.  I have waited outside the dryer for these socks because they are soft and warm, but not too warm.  They are wool, but not itchy.  These socks are perfect in boots, trainers, loafers...really every shoe I own except pumps.  Striped socks look exceptionally silly with pumps.  These socks make my feet smile.  After three weeks of waiting outside the dryer, and once double wearing the socks without washing (Yes, I did that. My daughter chastised me, and she was correct in doing so.  Message sent, message received, socks get washed after EVERY wearing), I finally went to the fancy outdoor store (REI) and found more pairs of these great socks.  Now I have four pair.  My favorite will always be the blue striped socks from my sister.  It is not easy finding socks when you have big feet.  So often the heel of the sock does not meet the heel of my actual foot causing an odd feeling, and causing the sock to slouch and bunch around the ankle.  Men's socks are larger, but larger all around and often bunch in shoes (very uncomfortable).  My sister knows the pain of finding good socks that do not cause annoyance.  We are both big footed ladies.  My daughter is following in our big footsteps and has learned to appreciate a fine fitting pair of socks.  There are tons of worse things than having big feet.  Stubby toes...now that it is a hideous thing.  I do not think I could wear open toed sandals if I had stubby toes.  When your feet are long, generally your toes are long, unless you had a run in with a lawn mower when you were wearing flip flops (In which case, I am sorry.  And I am sure your learned your lesson).

I am obsessed with socks.  It is okay.  Thus far I have been able to function as a semi-productive member of society.  Mostly, I am just grateful to have finally met a great pair of socks.  Thank you Betsy.  Very truly, my favorite birthday gift this year.  A gift that keeps giving warmth and joy.

Happy Wednesday.  Please stay warm and do not leave you kids or pets outside for extended periods of time.

Prone to Write

I am attempting something never done before.  I writing while laying on my couch.  I am also planning on publishing the post.  So this could be interesting.  Normally if I am laying down to write it is in my journal or a notebook.  It is typically on my stomach and my left arm gets all cramped up from the odd angle I lean on it.  Anyway, today I took a rather glorious, and embarrassing digger down the steps and my lower back feels like it may recover, but it is uninterested in sitting in an office chair at the computer...which is upstairs.  Yes, the same stairs that I took the express trip on an hour ago.  My hands were full, my feet are large, the stairs are narrow.  It was a perfect storm.  Now I am itching to write so I am grateful to my iPad that allows me to get on my blogger account.  The functions are not as easy as on the computer, not to mention laying on your back is not the most natural position to type.  I have pillows stacked upon me to get the screen at the right angle.  It is comical.  When one is prone to write, sometimes one must write while prone.

Today when I was walking with my dog, Ninja, I noticed that the squirrels were incredibly active.  Ninja fancies squirrels so it is easy to notice those furry little scamps.  Ninja believes in her sincere little doggy heart that it is her life's goal and purpose to catch, and kill or maim all squirrels that cross her path.  Unfortunately for Ninja, I am a bit squeamish when it comes to blood and guts, so my life's goal and purpose (at least when I am walking her) to hold her back from all small woodland creatures.  Thus most of walks, on very squirrelly days, end up with both of us frustrated with each other.  I am annoyed that I have had to tug the leash and say, "Ninja, leave it alone" a thousand times.  She is frustrated to have been on the receiving end of the tugging and crabbing...which I am sure all she hears is, "Ninja! blah ba wah blah".  We came back from the walk today and retreated to our separate corners.  Well, she went to take a nap, and she is a champion at sleeping.  This dog could sleep anywhere, anytime, and fall asleep in seconds.  It is amazing.  That was unnessisary information, but you will forgive me, as I am more prone to ramble when I am writing prone.  So I went to sort out some rubbish upstairs and then took my great fall, that landed me on the sofa.  Now a rambling post about squirrels...yikes.  I have not even looked to see if we have any pain meds in the house.  However, as I look at my rather stream of conscience type of writing I am doing, it seems like I am medicated.  I think it is just because laying down the thoughts come are more random.  It is as if my body posture is welcoming more trivial things.  Or maybe I just wanted to write something, and they can not all be well crafted, perfectly thought out musings.  Today, just musings. Very randomly laid out for you.

Be careful on the stairs or do not let the urge to clean overtake you in the first place.  I wish I would have gotten that memo from the future earlier...but isn't that just the way it goes?

Watch This!

On December 21st, 2012 the most amazing thing was discovered at my house.  Let me give you some back story before I get to my point. It is the build up that is where the story is...or so I tell myself.  December 21 was a Friday, it was suppose to be the end of the world, but it turns out the Mayans just ran out of circular tablets to chisel (my interpretation based on no fact what-so-ever) Anyway, this day was a busy one.  My son's Cub Scout Pack was having a holiday potluck dinner and I am not just a den leader, but some sort of party planner for the Pack.  My exceptional organization skills, coupled with owning a clipboard have made me seem like a reliable person for such events.  Most of my day was spent making sure my vehicle was loaded with the need table coverings, beverages, the awards for my den...a lot of shit, okay, lots and lots of shit in my vehicle, and a dish to pass.  You may imagine my temperament was less than lovely on this day ( the day the world did not end).  This event coupled with the fact that I had a family party at my house the following Sunday, and of course Christmas the following Tuesday.  It was hot mess time.  I had lists, my lists had lists, my clipboard was full, my wits were at their very end.  The Pack potluck ended up going fine, well it was over and that was all that mattered to me at the time.  A giant check could be made on this event and this day.  I did what most well adjusted people do after making it through a hectic event, I put my kids to bed and opened a beer.  This is where the best thing happened.  My December 21st miracle.  The life changer.  I turned on the television, flipped through the guide of 200 channels that generally disappoint me.  On this day my highlight on the guide stopped at A&E on a show called Duck Dynasty.  Bonus, it was on a marathon. (insert a "YES" with a fist pump)

I had seen posts on my social media about Duck Dynasty.  Some from people I actually respect.  I had never happened across it prior to this night.  The blessing of the Duck Dynasty marathon was exactly what I needed at this moment. (And beer was the correct call on beverage) Here is a brief synopsis of the show...it is a reality show based on the Robertson family of  Louisiana.  The family was poor, but made its fortune through duck calls made by Phil, the patriarch of the family.  Phil's middle son, Willie, went to business school and took the mom & pop business to a multi-million dollar business called Duck Commander and they also make Deer Commander calls.  The back story is great, but the best it just the way the family interacts.  It is a reality show with real feeling.  The Robertson family embraces their humble roots.  They seem to take the term red-neck as badge of honor, which is awesome.  It is just a show you just have to see.  It is funny, heartwarming, and you really just want to go hang out with these people.  My favorites are Jase and Uncle Si (he is a Vietnam veteran who has great stories he claims are 95% true).  I feel sad that I am so late to the DD party.  So if any of you were under the same rock I was...crawl out, now go check out the most fabulous reality show EVER.    

Test-Drive Challenge

Let us file this under "S" for sketchy...but it is only slightly sketchy...I blame it on TV.
On a Good Morning America segment there was an offer of a $25 gift card for test driving a particular make and model of car.  My car loving son was getting his shoes on for school when he heard this offer during the Freebie Friday segment.  He then insisted that I test drive that vehicle for the gift card.  Silly.  Not so silly that I would not do it, but silly none the less. It felt like a dare.  Dares are fun.   It has been mentioned here before that I lack a general sense of caring about vehicles.  I do however like a challenge. I figure going in and test driving a car I really know nothing, or care nothing about would be a challenge.  I needed to seem sincere about the vehicle, but no so interested that I walk out with a monthly payment.  I called the dealership and set up a time for a test-drive so I would not chicken out.  My son went to school so I would not have him pushing me to drop by the dealership.  I am a complete stickler for an appointment, it obligates me to follow through.  After I made the appointment I began to slightly panic because of my lack of caring about cars.  A person was going to ask me what I look for in a vehicle and I honestly have two requirements...

1. The vehicle starts
2. The vehicle moves

Really.  That is all I care about.  Sure I have colors I like and do not like, but even that is not very important.  Now I needed to appear that I cared about features.  It was becoming abundantly clear why I had never test-driven a vehicle before.  I am not picky about cars, as long as it fulfills my two requirements I am happy.  My dad or husband had test-driven and recommended all of my vehicles for the past 23 years.  YIKES!  

Furthermore, I was test-driving a foreign car.  I have only driven American cars.  Perhaps a couple rental cars were foreign, but as for ownership...I am a domestic.  But an appointment was set, so it had to happen.  And the $25 gift card, my motivator.  Oh, and I knew I would write about the experience.  Secondary motivation.  Oh...my son wanting me to do it, the whole reason I even considered it at all.  Full of motivation, and coffee, I headed to the dealership for my test-drive.  My very first solo-trip to a car dealership.  This was the loop in my brain on the 20 minute drive...

• Ask smart questions
• Emphasize that you are just starting the car shopping process
• No dumb questions
• No buying (okay that would be easy)
• Have fun

Over and over those things ran through head.  Realizing I was doing something new and different was exciting.  Playing the part of someone who actually was interested in cars was a true challenge.  Until I pulled in the parking lot and saw the type of vehicle I would be test-driving. (Really, I had no idea what it looked like I knew the make and model when I made the appointment.  I never looked at any pictures on the website)  It was a lovely sedan.  A sedan.  No sliding doors.  Four hinged doors.  And a trunk.  Not a rear lift gate.  This car was everything that I do not drive, and I had only seen the outside.  I spoke with the salesman about my vehicle needs (I added more that my initial two needs) then he made a copy of my drivers license, grabbed the keys, and we headed out to drive.  Yes, I am describing this step by step, because never before have I been the person anyone talked to in the car dealership.  Up until this point I had been the backseat person.  The little lady.  The "Mrs.".  Pretty much all things that make me annoyed in most situations, but since I have complete apathy for motor vehicles, I have accepted my diminished role in the automotive selection process.  It was nice to be asked the questions about what I am looking for in a vehicle.  It was nice to be directly spoken to and told about features.  It was nice to be the driver during the test-drive.

The vehicle I drove was pretty "loaded" with nice options.  Sunroof over the driver and passenger seats, heated /cooled leather seats (front and back), heated steering wheel (that is nice), push button ignition (very suspicious of this feature...I like keys), and it was a lovely titanium color with a bit of metallic fleck in the paint.  It drove quite and smooth, accelerated nicely.  I felt rather luxurious as compared to my almost ten year old, very trustworthy mini-van.  This vehicle did not scream, I AM A MOTHER OF TWO, or I BAKED 3 DOZEN CUPCAKES FOR THE BAKE SALE, or SURE, I CAN DRIVE FIVE KIDS ON THE FIELD TRIP TO THE ZOO.  No, this vehicle really did not say who the driver was at all.  It was almost too anonymous for me.  Yes, it was fun and a little cool.  It takes a lot for a non-car person to find a car cool.  The new car smell was nice.  However, I only have two real requirements for a car...it starts, and it moves.  The other features I like about my current vehicle is it gives my current credentials.  I am very okay with my three rows of seating, and the lack of coolness my vehicle projects.  I am not my car.  My car is not me.  It is a way to get from here to there and back.  It is all I need.  I will worry about projecting my own image outside of vehicle.

The added bonus is the $25 gift card that I will get in 6-8 weeks after I send in my test-drive certificate.  I did this as a lark, and to make my car obsessed son happy.  What I gained was a new experience, a writing topic, and a new found appreciation for my current vehicle. 

Leap Day Crazy

This is my son doing his homework.  No, he does not always do homework with Bumblebee gloves and a mask. This was taken after his Halloween costume arrived in the mail, in late September.  He was extremely excited.  The cup of coffee is mine, although it makes for a funny picture.  The reason I posted this picture today is because the little fellow informed me that since it is Leap Day and I can do something crazy today.  Then he added, "Crazier than usual".  My son knows I am a little different.  Noted from the picture above I may have passed on some quirkiness.  The kind of quirkiness that doesn't not reserve itself for one day every four years.