Baby, Fashion, Food, Health, Home. The Goings on From a Nook in the Niagara Region.

To Anonymous

2012-01-13T08:02:00.001-05:00

Since I took such a long break from blogging, I knew that probably no one was reading this blog anymore. So I took it as an opportunity to sell out and make money.

Glad someone took the time to comment, though, to call me a sell out, because it lets me know I still have readers. Anonymous comments are kinda hard to swallow, but I actually kinda like being called out. Keeps me ticking. So to all of you silent readers out there: comment! It's easy to use obscure link-ups as a conveyor belt to paypal accounts. But if I know that I actually am writing to an audience I'll have a little more substance. But I can't promise no link-ups (because I love $30 in my paypal every 8 weeks.)

Vain

2012-01-04T17:15:00.000-05:00

I'm a laser hair removal sorta gal. But have you ever considered Botox? I've learned the hard way in "never saying never." They offer Botox injections at the Cosmetic Clinic in Port Melbourne. Offer me a Groupon for Laser Hair Removal, and I'm all over it. Offer me Botox and I'll decline if for no other reason than I'm just 25.

Can't say I'm too young for crow's feet and frown lines, though. (Did you know it takes like a third of facial muscles to smile than to frown? Being sad is hard.) I don't think I have forehead wrinkles or smoker's wrinkles. I'm sure by the time I've lasered my body I'll be ready for injections. Ahh my life of vanity (not).

But speaking of which. How much do you love Nars products!? I just might wear makeup everyday from now on.

This post sponsored by Dr. Tass. Not to be confused with Dr. Ass, which is what I first read upon going to their website.

Some chain link accessories for the fall

2011-12-31T22:30:00.002-05:00

Guest post written by Karen Earhart
Lately, I've been all about buying accessories. I think that it happened because I realized that I had way too many pieces of clothing and not nearly enough accessories to change up my look! So I decided to fix that and have been buying accessories like there's no tomorrow. But they are cheaper accessories from places like Forever 21 and H&M. Besides they're better to buy, especially for trendy stuff, because I'm not investing a whole bunch of money into jewelry I won't wear the next semester.
But one thing that I need for fall but I don't have yet is some chain link accessories. I've seen so many of them in fashion magazines and blogs over the past few months and I really want to get in on that. I shopped around online with my wireless internet Las Vegas and found several accessories on the more affordable side.
I ended up finding the perfect fall chain handbag that I think is just adorable. I love that the chain in it is like bonus jewelry when I wear it!

Home Loan

2011-12-20T13:49:00.000-05:00

In the past two years I'm starting to finally learn about money. I don't know how somehow that life skill went over my head, but it did, and thankfully it didn't kill us. Mr Incredible has a good grasp on money, which negated my zero concept. On the other hand, I always knew that I couldn't overdo it, but that was more for modesty reasons than anything. I'm learning that coupons actually do save money, and not buying something is the best way to save money as well. I'm telling you. I was bad with money. No. Really really bad.

When we were searching for a home, Mr Incredible told me what our mortgage limit could be, and what price tag limit that would put on our house. Thankfully I respected what he said, and tried aiming lower than our top range. First strand of smarts I've ever had about money. I didn't really get everything that was going on in home loaning market, but I knew that I'd better have a cushion. I'm glad I did, because it's hard to consider things like vet bills and online shopping when you make a loan budget. Even though we are fine where we are, I still wouldn't mind downsizing for our next home. Things before we owned a home that seemed so important are really not. And as a good friend of mine says (a very half glass full friend, at that) "it's all how you look at."

We got a fixed home loan unlike an Aurora loan. It's through our bank that I love and would recommend to anyone. A man came and made me sign my name about 75 times. The Aurora loan may or may not have had some shady business associate with it. ie lawsuit. Anyway, I digress.

So if you are looking into buying a home, and are terrible with money like I was, you should go onto a website like http://www.mymoney.gov/. It's really anything you need to know about how to get on the path to financial not-failure. Do that and Dave Ramsey. Everyone loves Dave Ramsey. I saw a car filled with Dave Ramsey quotes. Him and Suze are where it's at. Even though any time I pick up any of their books I kind of get overwhelmed. They are like FlyLady for the financially messy. And if you just take baby steps you'll realize how easy finances can be, and how, no matter what your situation it can be successful. Like I (she) said, "it's all how you look at it."

No More Rack

2011-12-19T23:28:00.000-05:00

Have you heard of NoMoreRack? At first my odd ticking brain thought that it was a Breast Cancer Awareness site. Something along the lines of "save the tatas." Needless to say, I was hesitant to even look at this website, because I was nervous to see what it entailed, and what I would commit my brain and emotions to. (Not much has changed, I'm still an emotional basket case). Then my friend told me that she'd heard of nomorerack and had a $10 credit there for really cheap, nice jeans. And once again, retail therapy prevails. I went to the website and actually had to pick my jaw up off of the floor. It's like a GLORIFIED Groupon site. (apparently there IS something better than Groupon). It's made up of awesome things (THINGS! We all love things!) everyday at super super discounted prices. I heart. I die. I'm staying up until midnight tonight to see the new deals. iphone 4s for $60? mhmm. A Canon Rebel for $60? yes. (Mr. Incredible, take notes.)

I've had a hard time trying to find the nomorerack reviews, but you know my love affair with Martha. And say no more, it's been featured on Martha's show, The View, USA Today, House Beautiful. You must be joking me. But no. I'm sold. And the sucker I am, I signed up. And I'll update you tomorrow about how this sucker will be holding up tomorrow after staying up late finding deals on the computer. I don't need drugs, I've got deals to get high on.

The one review I did read about was the nomorerack scam. (Remember my Derrick blog flop?) It got me nervous. I knew it was too good to be true! But apparently the site was hacked into or something, but it's all taken care of now. It's as secure as any other online shopping (and cheaper, cheaper, cheaper!) I'm really excited. See you later when I'm decked out in Gucci and mac accessories.

Found

2011-12-14T13:43:00.003-05:00

My fingers literally cannot stand typing this story over, because a) it's heard it too many times b) it's so mysterious there's really nothing to say. In short, Mr Incredible picked up Peppy from Ohio. We don't live in Ohio. Ohio is three states away from us. Weird. Better than Austin.

But he came back with a cough, covered with fleas and so ungroomed that we need to shave him. He also came back completely housebroken, really doesn't jump or bark anymore, and begs for food. He might just be stunned. But if these people who had him trained him, then I'm sure they'll need professional odor removal austin. But they might not care about that sorta thing, considering the amount of fleas that were on him. yuck. But I'm really grateful to these people. It's gotta be hard parting with our terribly behaved but awfully cute and fluffy dog. Now he is well behaved and looks like a shaved fool.

'scuse the heavy breathing and the extra deep voice. i was sick.

Last Post Update

2011-11-30T21:47:00.000-05:00

Coincidentally, right after I wrote the last post, someone contacted me to my other gmail account through craiglist saying, "i think i have ur dog." I replied back for info etc, and she hasn't contacted me back. I'm dying. I need a trade show pop up parked in an empty parking lot with Peppy's longing face on it so I can actually meet the people claiming to have my dog. This virtual, un-contactable stuff is too much. Could you imagine? I could have pop up booths in different regions of New York with employees and police officers and PETA people. FOR THE LOVE OF PEPPY.! Pop up displays at Fairs! Pop up trade show displays along the highway! In Amish country, alongside the dried apples and mincemeat pie!

Oh, Peppy, you've taken my sanity.

Some Say Shaken Up, I Say PTSD

2011-11-30T11:47:00.000-05:00

Do you remember last year I made the mistake of my life and bought a dog? Well I topped that mistake. Ready. Set. Guess. WRONG. I didn't buy another dog. I lost the one we had. FAIL. And I've gone through exhaustive efforts trying to find him. In my defense, I didn't really LOSE the dog. He went missing from our back door. Literally scratching at the door waiting to be let in, while I decided I would wait for a commercial to let him in. We think it was a coyote. They are not uncommon in our area. So so so so sad. We went searching for him that night, then I began driving around. I saw a police officer, so I flashed my lights to signal him to pull over. When he did and asked what he could do, I replied, "our dog went missing" I started sobbing and said, "I didn't even like him!!!" Officer responded, "Ma'am, did you say that you don't even like your dog?" "yes!" And so it goes, the dog that has literally left me in a heap of tears of frustration has now left me in a heap of desperation. I've called every police station in the area, flyers, put out our blankets with Mr Incredible's cologne on it (because he was more partial to him than me. I have no idea why.), visited every shelter, SPCA, craiglist, etc. No luck. It's been about 5 weeks now. AND for all you who think that he ran away. Peppy never runs away. A) his electric (controversy!) collar was on B) his breed is known for always following around their owners, and never leaving their side. C) he always always always comes when he's called (only thing he was *moderately* trained at D) he hates the rain and will do anything to get inside.

turns out Peppy and I had quite the love story, since every lost love country song has left me in a mess of tears. cue sara evans. Let's take a moment:

aw baby puppy when we first brought him home

This picture is like I had intuition that he would go missing. It's very milk carton-esque.

Nesting Round 4

2011-11-29T19:48:00.000-05:00

I'm really tired and really overwhelmed. Which should tell you one thing: frantic. When I'm feeling this way I start setting absurd and unattainable goals, such as needing to look like I live in a Martha Stewart home, make Martha Stewart sort of money (pre bankruptcy), and have Martha Stewart looking dinners and Martha Stewart craft times with my kids. And I'll be damned if I don't make the Martha Stewart Walnut wreath before the end of November. I'm damned. MarthaIloveandhateyourdaily5emailstome.

Oh wait. I forgot to mention. I'm nesting. And above paragraph has nothing to do with nesting. Above paragraph is added to already innately nesting maternal crazies. Heh. I'm posting things on craigslist, making weekly trips to the SPCA, arranging Amvets pickups, dropping off at Salvation Army, and arranging junk removal with Shenandoah Junk Removal. Because I. gots. junk. And the house is still trashed. Because I'm about one notch above motivated, and striking neither a negative score nor positive with discipline. None better said than by Hitler, "Mein Kampf." (I'm not sure how that becomes applicable in so many aspects of my life.) (Oh wait, yes I do know why, maybe I'm dramatic.)

UTILITY RESEARCH

2011-11-28T22:59:00.000-05:00

Content by Kyle Lowe
When we moved to Texas wireless internet providers Houston. It was important to me that we found a service that was well reviewed and that was competitively priced. My kids think I’m crazy about getting good deals and saving money, but the truth is that I work hard for our money and want to make sure that I am spending it responsibly. I assure them that they will understand one day when they have a job and start making and spending their own money. Luckily, at our new home in Texas we have a choice of service providers for our utilities. Previously, we lived in rural Georgia and there were not any choices of utilities providers. If your utilities were out and you couldn’t get anyone on the phone you were just out of luck. Even if you could get someone on the phone, it usually ended up taking a long time to get someone out there to fix it, but you had no choice. You were stuck waiting. Choice is one thing that I love about living in a big city.

Get a Melissa & Doug 25% Off Coupon When You Take the North "Poll"

2011-11-17T08:53:00.008-05:00

Melissa & Doug want you to tell them which of their educational toys you think is the best! Just click on the image below to place your vote in the North "Poll!" You'll Get a Melissa & Doug 25% Off Coupon** to use at MelissaAndDoug.com just for voting!

a LOT to say

2011-07-06T22:44:00.000-04:00

Casey Anthony, you serious? You serious, prosecutor? Maybe this case should not have been brought to court so soon, with such holes in the bucket. AND SHE CAN NEVER BE TRIED AGAIN. For Murder in the first degree, manslaughter or aggravated child abuse. All of which I'm sure she's guilty of. You're a psychopath, Casey, (and so is your mom and dad.)

It seems you've had a lot of time to think in jail, Casey. About your ~~loss~~ what's to come of your future. "partial memoir/comedy/relationship advice book for those not in the know." Memoir of what? Aunt Jemima, your cell mate? Comedy? Is there something comic that I'm missing? Relationship? With you mom? Your dad? Caylee's absent father? Or is it Caylee. I'm sure in her short two years, you guys really bonded while you partied.

I could scream. Let's brief this case:

Baby missing for 30 days.
Grandma's 911 call screaming that her grandbaby has been missing for 30 days, oh and btw, my daughters trunk smells like a decaying body
Day of 911 call you ask neighbor to borrow a shovel. You don't use it.
Google searches are "chloroform," "neck breaking" and the like.
55 days from Caylee's birthday you switch your password to timer55. As in, by the time her birthday rolls around you're going to need a good explanation as to where she is.
Caylee was found in a dumpster with three pieces of duct tape over her mouth and nose. With a heart sticker on it.
That heart sticker belongs to the sheet of stickers that is in your house.
Her decaying hair is found in your trunk.
You partied and got tattooed while your daughter was supposedly missing.
You say she was with her nanny, who a) has a name that is shockingly close to the drug you're on b) is a completely fictional person.
You're sick.

K i'm done.

Big Plans

2011-06-09T21:41:00.000-04:00

I'm very pleased to announce that today I have ALL OF MY SUPPLIES ready to starting this Etsy shop. I hope to have it opened by August. I want to have at least 6 items in the shop when I open it. I'm not going to let the cat out of the bag just yet as to what will be in the shop, but ideally I would love to have more than one creation of choice. Where there is a will, there is a way. Another way to put it, as my friend pointed out, where there is a way there is a will. I tend toward the former, probably because I'm a hopeless overachiever. But big plans mean big changes. Which means that I'll probably do less eating cookies and drinking beer at night and more creating. I'm pretty pumped. Hopefully this will take flight. Seems that when things and situations don't go perfectly I quit. I've got to get over that.

In other Etsy related news, Mr Incredible is getting nervous because of this. Quite frankly, I am too. It's glorified Groupon and I'm hooked. So when you see the house and myself and my family donned in beautiful handmade goods, you need not ask where they're from. Love you, Etsy.

wait for it

2011-06-07T20:39:00.000-04:00

.... probably not anytime soon, but I think (and we all know what that means- big plans, little results) I'm going to open an Etsy shop. Skillz? We'll see.

I'm delighted to see that I had 3 comments on my last post. I'm motivated with nothing to say.

So there you have it. An Etsy shop. And in tribute to all you, love, virtual and non virtual alike, what do you think I'll be naming it? IMPERFECTDAISIES. so much love floating all around here. I'll keep you posted.

That was a Hell of a Hump

2011-06-02T22:46:00.000-04:00

Wowzers those last few posts (apart from the Koreans) left this blog in ill standing. Well to me, anyway. I really have no interest in reading the last few posts. Actually I never have any interest in reading any of the previous posts. They make my blush and feel nauseous. Don't know why I'm the author of a blog.

I'm on the up and up, finally. I've overcome my quick bout of Depersonalization Disorder (thank you Kim Iverson and Casey Anthony for putting a name to my mind/body disconnect.) I can once again formulate thoughts, articulate feelings, and listen to people without feeling like I'm in an underwater dream.

And then come apologies. Please excuse me, friends and family for the repeated questions, nonsensical answers, and overall DPD. I'm sorry to my faithful readers for nary an update, and I apologize to myself for losing about 20 followers and all my readers along the way.

So let's get back to the good ol' days. Nothing says I'm back to my old self like a few obscure linkups (trying to open my own Etsy shop, here. Gotta use benefactors where I can find them.)

We're getting a new roof soon, with the lowest estimate at $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. ching chong rashem. Homesecurity greatfalls can be a b$&%^. But since there always is that silver lining, we can think, ha! maybe we'll get cable! www.localtv-satellite.com If they'll be on the roof anyway we might as well get some sort of entertainment out of it. (doubt it. I'd rather shop with the extra $90 a month.)

Other than that, I don't know what to update you with. But let me leave you with this, my fellow blog people. I'm gaining weight and for once in my life I don't care. Dare I say, I'm embracing it. We'll talk more about that later. But for now, I have freshly baked cookies awaiting me.

Talent

2011-03-18T18:07:00.000-04:00

Fortunately I love kids, I love Koreans, love guitars and love talent. Eat your heart out.

anxiety dream

2011-03-16T20:09:00.000-04:00

This is probably tmi.

You know those anxiety dreams that you're standing around your elementary school in just your white underwear? I tend to have a million different versions of them. Particularly when I'm anxious. Last night I had that dream in miscarriage form:

I was visiting at a friend's house (a very laid back friend, at that) and went to her basement to find G, my 17 month old. When I found her I found black stuff all around her mouth. I searched around for what she had eaten, then saw a bottle of rat poison in G's hand. I went ballistic and began searching for a number for poison control or the hospital, meanwhile my friend wiped the evidence off G's face and reassured me that "now she's fine!" After precious long minutes of finding the number, dialing wrong numbers, poison control not answering, hospital lines busy, I finally got ahold of someone on poison control. They told me that she can take ipecac (the medicine that makes you throw up) but it will be "violent" throwing up, and it may do her more harm than good since she is so little. ..... woke up in a sweat. ....

I then realized that I'm anxious. Tomorrow (St. Patty's Day) I have to go to my doctor to take medicine. I haven't technically "miscarried," there was just no sign of life at my last appointment. I had three choices- wait it out, take medicine, or get surgery. Waiting it out was risky and didn't seem to be happening. The DNC (surgery) seemed invasive and reminded me of abortions, which thoroughly depressed me. The option I was left with was taking the medicine.

Here are the parallels, just in case they are not as clear to you as they are to me: My baby= my baby. Rat poison= medicine to be taken tomorrow. Friend= "everyone goes through it"/ the unknown. No medical assistance= I take the medicine, go home and wait. "Violent" throwing up= Doctor saying that it's worse than a period, not as bad as labor.

I'm nervous.

This ain't last year's St Patty's Day. <-- real link to my blog from last year. Have I scarred you all with all those sketchy links? Sorry.

By the way, if I haven't made it around to your blog yet to personally thank you, I want to let everyone know how much I appreciated the support and kind words through this bad Bad time. Thanks for not being awkward, thanks for just letting me write what I had to write. a) it was a lot of emotion b) I'm a terrible story teller :) and furthermore, thanks for showing me so much virtual love!

On Grief

2011-03-10T16:16:00.000-05:00

Everything was a little too appropriate today. It's a grey, gloomy, rainy spring day, there's not a cloud in the sky or a sliver of sunlight. I was even dressed appropriately for the occasion. Big clunky boots, jeans, a grey shirt with a navy blue cardigan and a summer scarf. Hair down with just cherry chapstick. All of the glimmerings of new life, hidden under all the sure signs of the dead of winter. I dropped the girls off at my mom's house so I could go to my 12 weeks appointment. When I first got there I did the routine weigh in. I gained one pound. Normally by my 12 week appointment I'm far into about 12-16 pounds. Nurse asks if I had any concerns, as normal, and as normal I think of something that they reply as "well, every pregnancy is different!" This month's concern is that my morning sickness literally stopped overnight ("like all my hormones just went away!") and, "why have I only gained one pound?" This cues the nurse to joke that that should be the least of my concerns, and it's because my selective memory only remembers the times I come in and gain six pounds at a time.

If there's one thing that I remember well, it's my weight. When, where, why, what number, what size. I've been wondering lately why I'm still wearing my regular clothes. By this point in the game, I usually am in the awkward two sizes up, crotch too low, legs too long, but still a muffin top. Typically I throw in the towel and wear sweats from here on out.

Doctor goes through the routine first trimester questions; each of my previous births, when? full terms? weight? Then goes through the routine: heart disease, high blood pressure, depression? I answer no to all of them, "although, sometime I do get a bit down," when she replies, "Kiera, eveybody gets a little down all the time, but you are the happiest person I've ever met." She notes that my belly hasn't grown. She skips the doppler (the machine used to hear the heart) and goes right to sonogram. Last appointment all the nurses were impressed that the baby had already begun moving. His little arms and legs were going the entire time. This time there was nothing. No heart beat, no sweet limbs flailing.

Couple mothers' guilt and Irish guilt and my mind starts racing, even though it probably had nothing to do with me. Was it the days I forgot to take my vitamin? Zumba class? When I got the flu two weeks ago? Was it just too much for the little baby to handle?

The doctor has to send me to "make it official," to the imaging floor of the hospital. The scene must've been set by a director. I finally saw the hospital through a new lens, and I realized why people feared it. Full of death and sorrow. I had to walk down too many dimly lit hallways, with shiny floors, and the smell of bleach. For the first time I realized that the hospital is just kind of dank. I couldn't pull my knit cardigan tight enough around me. I waited in chairs, while listening to news full of more destruction, and read a times magazine through blurry eyes. Then I was simply called in, got a quick, bit too harsh, efficient sonogram, with the tech saying, "yep, I'm just confirming what they already told you." And I was cattled out like any other patient that found out grief worthy news.

I've always loved the hospital, I loved the smell of the cleanliness, the soap, the squeak of shoes. When I think of the hospital I think of unlimited cranberry juice and Lorna Doones on beckon call. I think of clean white sheets, with the tv on low in the background, while I sit Indian style with my new sweet baby wrapped up sitting in my lap. (While I eat hospital meatloaf and buttered corn, topping it off with jello.) I love smelling my baby's sweet head and choosing which outfit to put on her. A white tshirt with a diaper or a yellow tshirt with a diaper? It seems all of these things I was so looking forward to in September is just gone.

This all may seem a little dramatic. I've experienced miscarriages second hand, and I still had no grasp of how devastating it is. In the book of etiquette, you're supposed to never say, "maybe there was something wrong with it," or "you'll have another baby soon," or "at least you have other kids!" All of these things are true, but there is something so earth shatteringly unique about this baby. This hope, this dream. What this baby was going to offer to the world. What I was going to offer to this baby.

The thaw is setting in my bones, and I'm just getting achier. Hopefully the nurses and doctors understand that I was in complete shock when I said, "well there's always a silver lining, and now I can drink beer on St Patty's day!" Because that's not really how I feel. I would give up anything for any amount of time for my children. sl;fsdf;lasjdlasfkhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Impractical Net.

2011-03-08T22:10:00.001-05:00

With the help of a friend, today, I realized that I'm in survival mode. Survival mode really can be intense, but thankfully for me I do a wonderful job at not realizing things/ignoring them. I just had a million friends unfriend me on facebook. Now that's serious. And Mr Incredible has no idea what he'll be doing for job(s) in the next two months. And I have a serious dilemma going on with sending my 4 year old to school next year. And, are we moving relatively soon? Are we going to be having a pay cut? Will Peppy live to see next year? Crisis mode.

Impractical enough. I hope you see the parallel.

Relatively speaking, this all looks just fine. Things work out. Thankfully my marriage is not failing, my children are healthy, and my dog doesn't have lock jaw. And he's little enough that the one and half year can restrain him if need be. There has never been a need, but the little comforts in life are the ones we emotionally fall back on, no? And there is always Mr Incredible to fall back on, too. He's painfully practical, with a tiny streak of idealism in him. Like, for instance, when we recently bought our new van, he confidently yet carelessly threw the "valet key" in the glove compartment. When a wrinkle formed between my brows and I asked him what he was doing, he replied, "it's a valet key!" As though we're going to need valet parking. Ever. Maybe once a year we go somewhere with valet parking, but even still we get there approximately 4.5 hours before the rush. Like 4pm not 830pm. Ideal thinking, eh? In reality we will need that key within the first month of owning the car, because the kids will lose the other keys, and the doors will be locked, and then we'll realize that the "valet key" is in the glovebox. Then we'll really be SOL. But sometimes his tiny proton of idealism is just so comforting. Valet key when we're about to experience pay cut. Tell me you don't want it.

I'm expecting Mr Incredible to come home tomorrow, and tell me that he's purchased Burial insurance. Or, in the midst of all of his exams, papers, work, Peppy walks, kissing the girls goodbye, I'll find him on the computer looking up Medigap Insurance. I'm 24. But seriously, what's not to love about the impractical idealist side of him? One has to rein the other in. We've got it under control. Kind of. Thank God for my recent burial insurance for senior citizens.

A Redneck Joke is Just a Redneck Joke. Don't Hate.

2011-03-04T14:46:00.001-05:00

Phew. I think we've gone a week with nonstop blogging. Go me. I even have a giveaway coming up. Jewelry. Nice jewelry, at that. Stay tuned. (I'm waiting for readership to go up more, so if you want this giveaway as much as I want to do it, then comment, so I know that readership is up.)

Some posts are wordy, some are not so much. That used to rub me the wrong way. I'm coming to terms with it now. So here's another short post.

You might stare a second too long, then be ashamed that it took you that long to figure it out. Maybe. heh heh heh.

Thank you, *friend*, who sent me this!

Redundant

2011-03-03T14:45:00.000-05:00

I'm sure if you read my little tiny independent blog, then you probably read Cup of Jo. And if so, I'm very sorry for reposting this. I want to post this everywhere, I'm tempted to on facebook, but I know that would just be overdoing it. So excuse the potential redundancies, and watch this hilarious hilarious video. And, like Joanna said, even if you're not the watch-videos-online-type, it's still worth it. Because tears were streaming as I watched this:

Film director Johannes Nyholm made this short video, starring his baby. clever. hilarious.

Working off the Ramen Noodles, One Hip Swivel at a Time

2011-03-02T13:50:00.003-05:00

I'm two steps behind, bringing up the caboose, a straggler, trend follower. Call it as you may, but I finally took my first Zumba class. My friend invited me to go with her, and as we were walking in, I said, "well since you've done this already, I can rest assured that it's not going to be sexy Brazilian moves." She casually replied, "no it is!" OH. I'm Irish and have tacked on a few or more extra pounds. I was nervous I'd have to zoom-ba right outta there.

It was amazing to a fault. As in, I want to be a Zumba instructor. The biggest problem was the mirrors. Those freakin mirrored walls will get you every. time. I was bouncing around feeling so good, feeling like I had the Brazilian Rhythm (how hard is that word to spell, seriously. I just googled it three times.) Then I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror (and the lady behind me staring at my underwear lines in my spandex) and I realized that probably the closest thing to me becoming brazilian is my dark hair and pear shaped body. But honey, that di'nt stop this dancin' machine.

I looked less like the girl in the foreground, more like the lady in the teal in the background. With spandex, to boot.

What failed me in the mirrors was quickly rebuttaled in the class of ladies. (Friend not included) There was a big chested lady of about 6'1, a 220 pound man, an anorexic looking teenager with oversized feet, and better yet, the instructor was funky, cute, but she was not necessarily Rio de Janeiro ready either. AND to top it all off, her cool down music was just as amazing as the Brazilian rap. No sarcasm: (thanks, Pearls, for the hint)

Strong and Confident

2011-02-28T13:48:00.001-05:00

I'm starting to wonder if anyone is truly confident in themselves. Seems that the more I learn about people, the more I realize that everyone acts out of their wounds. Seems as though the more confident a person acts the more broken they are. Which loops around into a huge large circle with the beginning and the end being 'be kinder than necessary' because you just don't know anyone except yourself. And chances are, that's scary enough.

But this lady. I'm not sure she has one single wound, because THAT is confident:

Foodie Unleashed

2011-02-27T20:55:00.001-05:00

I am a true blood foodie. This isn't a condition, this is me. It's as innate as survival to me, not just a too comfortable marriage, a backfired eating disorder, or stress. I love food. Really any food, apart from mussels or cannolis. When I was a tender age around three or four and someone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I replied, "eat nutritious foods!" And that is as to the core as I can get.

beef barley soup and oranges, more accurately

Now imagine a foodie unleashed via pregnancy. Yes, imagine. We're talking Hostess cupcakes and spaghetti with butter and cheese and squash with brown sugar and grapefruit! and ginger ale with maraschino cherries! ~~chicken~~, (so gross), ~~elbow noodles~~ (never mention that word again), bologna! salad with bacon and bleu cheese and pickled onions (for realz), mango coleslaw (do it) (ps that is a link on my own accord. First time in a while, I know. It will actually lead you to a real website, not San Diego car repair or Minneapolis real estate. heh.). You get the picture. But that's only in the evenings.

Did you see this past weeks Glee about drinking awareness? And all of the students and Mr Schuester come to school wiht sunglasses on because of their hangovers? And Mr Schue mentions that the principal's cologne is so strong? This is what my morning are like every morning. My body wash makes me nauseous. The smell of coffee, nauseating. The idea of a Reese's egg is literally vomit inducing. The foodie in me is nonexistent, and I feel like a sassy and picky fourth grader. But that hasn't stopped me from outgrowing my pants. So soon. And it's all because of the glorious 1pm-on eating.

The best part about it is when I hit the 50 pound weight gain mark and have the baby, by then I'm burnt out on eating so much junk and all the time. (knock on wood- chances are just because I'm saying it means this time I won't lose it) So unlike Giselle, who claims that it is a shame that some pregnant women think of themselves as a garbage disposal, I will eat to my content in preparation for labor. Because (this is my ultimate fallback excuse) did you know that calorically speaking, going through labor and delivery is equivalent to participating in a triathlon? Bring it on. I've got some carbo loading to do.

Bus driver

2011-02-23T20:07:00.003-05:00

For most of my elementary years I had this one Bus Driver. Her name was something along the lines or Diana or Tracy or Nancy. She was really cool. Really cool until she got pregnant, and to my young and innocent mind she was more or less a bunny rabbit. (Pot calling the kettle black, whatevs.) When she was not pregnant she was simply a highlighted haired, slim lady with crayolaed pictures of her favorite little riders and a love note from her husband hanging on the dash. When she was pregnant, she really turned into a downright monster. We'd literally tiptoe on the bus. If we made it on the bus, anyway. Because she was not unknown to drive right past you, jsut for kicks or some authority, I'm assuming. Not pregnant, on holidays she would give us our favorite candies and erasers and maybe a construction papered craft that she'd done the night before. When she was pregnant we would tiptoe on the bus and before even making it to the second step she would bark, "DIABETES OR ALLERGIES?" then toss a bag of candy corn at us.

After her maternity leave she would come back radiant and beaming, showing us new picture of her ugly (you know they are) newborn. She would practically hand cigars out to the boys. It was very jarring for us, and took us the full rest of the year to recover and realize she was not a maniacal monster. But then every fall we'd come back and she'd announce the dreadful-to-us news: she was pregnant. Again.

It hit me like a mac truck today, that I am Tracy, Diana, Nancy. I have rage that cannot be tamed. Take, for example, yesterday, my round four to get a license at the dmv. By round four red flags should probably be going up in NYS with quotes like, "slow!" "does not respond well to direction!" "does not read direction!" "unworthy of driving if she can't do this right!" Instead, after a long line and my kids running in and out of rooms, the lady at the desk calmly told me that my proof of address didn't qualify because it's an insurance bill. Red pen circling, "it's right here under the list of unacceptable." I could've climbed over the counter and strangled her with my own hands. I understand this is irrational and unreasonable, but hormones are hormones and I was seeing red. RED.

Or, take for example today, when my washing machine broke for the second time in 6 weeks. I nearly fell on the floor weeping. I called service and they told me that they could come on Friday. Friday? I have clothes that are locked in my washer, my husband WORKS THERE and this just happened a few weeks ago. Friday my ass, ma'am. Again, I realized this was irrational and the whole shebang, but my rage cup was overfloweth. At least today I channeled my adrenaline into efficiency and sorted all of my laundry into garbage bags and brought it to the local laundromat. (That's what she said.) SIXTEEN loads I got done in two hours. Frankly, I don't even know why I own a da*n washing machine.

So friends, if you, too ever run into a Tracy, Nancy, Diana, don't judge, don't hate, don't think they are angry because they're pregnant, because they're not. You'll just never know when it's going to hit them (or you). It may be in a scrub store, (Mr Incredible needs medical scrubs, what can I say?) when you or her are buying scrubs, maybe when you're even buying scrubs online. YOu just don't know. Just the progesterone, OH! the progesterone. It's a downright drug. It basically causes severe narcolepsy, rage and hunger. All at once. All day, for approximately 13 weeks. Don't hate, don't love, just give me my way then get out of the way.

BOO!

2011-02-22T20:43:00.000-05:00

Well well well, friends and frenemies, it turns out I am in the midst of being punk'd. I'm just waiting now for anyone to jump out at me and scare me out of my boots. Then I'm sure my laughter will turn to rage really immediately. Because as that country song says, "God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy."

Turns out Peppy the dog is pretty crazy, too. Oh and I'm pregnant, to boot. Pretty nuts. Good nuts, but nuts nonetheless. Nuts is nuts, eh? So what I should be doing is sitting in my Eames lounge chair eating Hostess cupcakes whilst my chillens color with sparkley crayons, but in reality I'm trying to keep the house in decent order, begging the kids not to mess up anymore rooms, and eating Hostess cupcakes.

On a more upbeat note, we finally got a Swaggerwagon. Should I star in its next commercial? I would, if I could just get some creative juices flowing and a new video camera. (Don't order one from Dell, no matter what the price. It doesn't hook up to the computer to dl, and when you call customer service they transfer you the middle of a Bali street where only 25% english is spoken.)

Well, that's all I've got for now. Later.

I've been punk'd

2011-02-02T14:01:00.003-05:00

There was all this hype about a huge snowstorm that was supposed to hit last night. My bff, in her usual fashion, stocked up on milk and beer. Me, in my atypical but becoming all too familiar fashion, stocked up on beef barley soup and pastry hearts. Oh, the joys to be hormonal and weight gain expected. Anyway, this "snowstorm" maybe maybe would've thrown San Diego for a loop. But not us Buffalonians. The pending anxiety of it, however, threw everyone (University at Buffalo included) into a tizzy, schools and businesses closing. (I'm warming up at the mere idea of this) My next door neighbor's plow came at least twice during the night. Naturally, I expected to wake up and see nothing but a winter wonderland. Instead I woke up to see no more snow than there was on the branches and the steps to the play set in the backyard. (La Jolla I'm coming for the rest of the winter).

me!??!?!?!!?

I've recently begun to think that I'm constantly being Punk'd. Like there are all sorts of conspiracies around me and hidden cameras are just waiting to get a ridiculous reaction out of me. My reaction always ends up being, "am I being punk'd?" which always ends up twice as ridiculous because a) I'm not on camera, b) I give myself away by thinking the world revolves around me. So by the light of the moon this morning, only half-way in my pajamas, I squintedly asked aloud, "am I being punk'd?" There was no snow, but next door neighbor's driveway had been repeatedly plowed, and the ice trucks were up and down my street all night long. Whaat? But apparently, here we are, in the middle of a storm. I'm dutifully eating my beef barley soup and pastry hearts, and I turned up the heat, just for effect.

Sell Out

2011-01-26T08:55:00.000-05:00

In this age of war and economic crisis, what's a better idea for a stay at home mom to do than blog for money? My friends, I have been blogging for money now for months. And have you been awares? I'm a sell out. A big ol sell out. Which works out conveniently, because this blog (as I've mentioned before) makes me want eat sand. It bores me. As much as boxhead 2 or grand auto theft.

What's a girl to do? Start a new blog? Revamp the old one? Lose lose. Maybe I'll just keep blogging for money until I re-like the blog again. Yea, that's probably what is going to happen. I'll blog to make revenue. And someday soon I'll like this again.

Poetry. MMMMhm.

2011-01-25T08:01:00.000-05:00

My life through my blog eyes looks rather bleak. I haven't been painting a very colorful picture in the last few months. Maybe year. Are there consultants for hire? Maybe I need a consultant to counsel me. But I wouldn't need to pay them because everyone has opinions on other people's blogs. Dad, this is for you:

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep

That makes no show for dawn

By stretch of limb or stif of lid,--

An independent one.

Was ever idleness like this?

Within a hut of stone

To bask the centuries away

Nor once look up for noon?

-em dickinson

Come to think of it, I think I have my own personal directory of consultants. Everyone always tells me what to write. Mostly what I shouldn't've written.

All in all I think I have to pick up the pace, take it up a notch in terms of blogging. Because many a time at night, as I'm drifting off to sleep I think, ! that would be the PERFECT cheerful blog post to write.....

great grandmas mug

2011-01-24T13:25:00.001-05:00

Blank Project Collage Mug

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xmas 2010

2010-12-13T10:59:00.001-05:00

Bright Red Filmstrip Christmas

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So Powerful

2010-12-03T12:55:00.000-05:00

It's 1230 on Friday and after a really rough night of kids waking up with snotty noses, I really should be getting them down for naps. But my friend just sent me this email. She said I would be "moved to tears," "Praise God." Those two combined never move me to tears. Actually, not much moves me to tears.

Here I am smiling and crying, my kids confused out of their minds. We're watching a million versions of this awesome concept (Sound of Music in Central Station in Belgium? My kids are dancing their butts off right now, asking if we can do this in the mall sometime. eh ha, probably not)

ps sorry facebook friends, I know I just posted it. I love it so much.

oh nuts!

2010-12-02T22:16:00.000-05:00

Peppy got neutered yesterday. As I wrote as my facebook status, my excitement to his procedure was completely disproportionate. I was so excited for him to be gone for 36 hours, I didn't even know what to do with myself. Turns out, I fell asleep (with the gate open!) at 7pm, woke up not fearing the kitchen and him growling for food. Unfortunately when I asked the girls if they missed them, 4 year old said, "meh, not really." I didn't understand the stress that Peppy is until he was gone. But now he's back.

Mr Incredible walked in the house with a shimmer (or was it a tear for Peppy?) in his eye telling me not to laugh. I don't normally laugh at people or things, or altogether immature scenarios, but seriously:

sorry too lazy to turn this around

Peppy you look like hell

You would never know that the little dude just had his balls cut off. (crass, sorry, i know. but fur realz). He's not lost an ounce of Pep in his step (well maybe an ounce or two.)

Which is taller, a square or a rectangle?

2010-11-28T22:59:00.000-05:00

If you read my other blog, you know that I have this looming Christmas (sans alcohol, I might add) party coming up. There is little to dread, much to look forward to, but if you read my last post, the former becomes what I look forward to and the latter is what I dread. The Irish in me, again. Fall back excuse.

Right now my dread is that I don't have hot shoes. This is muy, muy bothersome for me. First of all, I had a group of 10 or so people tell me the other day that they think I'm taller than Mr Incredible (a rectangle always looks taller than a square). This does not fly with me. I used to very confidently wear heels with him (we are both 5'9). Now I feel as though I'm going to be stuck wearing- what? Flats and dress with tights? That, too, does not fly with me. (and if you're wondering, my "hot shoes" that I had suddenly started making my legs feel less Sarah, more Bristol-esque. In other words, salvationarmy.) I know I could get away with boots, but flat boots are cazh.

So what's a girl to do? My best advice to you is to stay tuned. Because I'm at a loss.

kiwi

versus Mr Inc. Who looks taller to YOU

There's a Ned in all of Us

2010-11-28T22:28:00.000-05:00

Ned: Do we know 'im? Do we love 'im? Yes and Yes. As a matter of fact, I'm A Ned. There is one in every functioning relationship. Keep your eye out for this. There is always a ~~negative~~ emotional person, and then there is the better half, and yes I said BETTER half that is realistic, level headed, easy going. And all of these qualities will end up infuriating Ned. WHAT do you you think you're BETTER than ME!?

These past 4 or so days have been particularly tough ones. I've been overly ~~negative~~ emotional, hyper sensitive, hyper critical. Pretty much verbally abusive, and when Mr Incredible rubs my back and says, "sweetie, you're doing great! You're gonna get through this, it's just a rough patch" I roll my eyes and tell him I'm fat. Because that is what I KNOW will get me a negative emotional response. Works like a charm.

Let's take, for instance, giving the baby medicine. Mr Incredible suggested I should because she was feverish and cranky. You would've thought that he asked me to lug the tv from the basement and hook it up to the computer from the DVI to the HDMI cable. I moaned and groaned so afraid that for SOME reason me giving her medicine was going to work out. "Why don't YOU do it? It's your first day off in 6 weeks and all YOU'RE doing is sitting watching football." And when he replied, "sweetie, I just went out and bought the medicine, and actually I'm working on my homework" all I heard was "oh, baby, it's just the Opt-World HDMI cable you'll have to use to hook it up. You can do it!"

So I pulled myself up by my boot straps, and I did it. I gave the baby Tylenol. And it spilled all down the front of her, on the floor, on my Dry Clean Only sweater. I lost it. I threw the teaspoon and exclaimed that it was HIS fault, damnit. Why did he buy the RED STUFF????? MY Baby only likes the PINK STUFF!!! He calmly replied, "well, next time we'll have to use the dropper." In other words, the HDMI switcher, ya know. I started having a mild anxiety attack. And then baby fell asleep. And once again, I realized it was all alright. Everything's okay. It always is. But the prospect of what COULD happen is always looming. Always in front of my face. It's the Irish in me.

Crossing Fingers

2010-11-26T10:28:00.000-05:00

Today will be the moment of truth.

Remember how the van bit the dust? Yes, well it has been sitting at the car shop since then until we could decide what to do with it. Much is involved in that decision. First we have to clear everything out, which in itself will be epic. I have everything from sunscreen to boots that don't fit anyone to my my marriage certificate. ha. Really. Then we have to decide where to dump it. Did you know that there is a fine to bring it to a dumpster??? Absurd.

~~Procrastination~~ patience always prevails. My dad just so happened to run into the Car Dealer and he delivered good news. If we can drive the van to the lot, and they can find something wrong with our right axel (it's been recalled) then they will give us either a rental car until we buy a new car, or they will give us money towards a new car.

I didn't want us not having a car to be a family affair, but my dad and Mr Incredible are going to try try try to make the van drive from the shop to the store. My Dad following Mr Inc in case the car breaks down. When I told my dad that I would follow him so my Dad didn't have to be involved, he looked at me as though I was asking him to direct me toward the best dating sites or to give me internet fax reviews. In other words, he thought it was absurd for me to risk waiting on the side of the road with the girls in tow, while we waited for the tow truck.

So everyone silently at your computers say a little "vroom baby vroom" for me. And the monstrosity called minivan.

Scrub my Hub. ewww as in clothe him.

2010-11-24T14:37:00.001-05:00

Remember how I said that most of my family is in the medical profession? Yes, let's talk about that.

Unlike most/some people, I have no fear or dread of the hospital, dentist offices, nursing homes. As mentioned in my previous post, I lovvee them. Mostly because I've never been traumatized by any of the above (knock on woooooood) but also because I was exposed to these things all the time. The biggest and probably only problem I've had with my experience with the nursing profession is that no one (Mom, Dad or Sister) let me ever have any say in what scrubs they wore. Always modest, always blue. I'm talking to you, too, Mr Incredible. If I was a nurse, no matter what the establishment (because i do what i wunt) I'd totally be sportin hot pink scrubs.

get this man some SCRUBS!

I remember going into this medical uniform retail with my mom when I was little. Oh! The Looney Tunes and the Barbie and the Valentine's Day scrubs. And my mom bought white. Probably because her patients- people like that morbidly obese man who kept his gun on top of the donut box, or the woman who claimed that her leg felt "wiggly" when my mom later realized she had maggots crawling in her leg wound- would not've so much appreciated dinosaurs with band-aids.

So here we are, Mr Incredible approaching the end to his nursing school. I'm waiting, just wondering, even though I know, that he, too, will never ever wear character scrubs. And I'm starting to appreciate that a little more everyday. Because who really trusts a man wearing mens' nursing scrubs with designs on them, anyway? Then again, I don't trust too many men that wear white sneakers, either. ;)

The Grandiosity of Assisted Living

2010-11-23T13:48:00.000-05:00

I went to college to become an Occupational Therapist. Mainly because I love LOVE helping people. I don't know why, it's in my bones. It's probably because I come from a family of Health Care people. Nurses, mainly.

If I've ever told you anything about my work ethic, we all know... what work ethic? Zero. It's embarrassing and shameful that a person like me can really make Denny's have a hard time ticking. There are two jobs, however, that I positively loved. Enough to finish my shift and not call in sick once a week. (I don't know why these jobs kept me around. I must have the kavorka.) The first one is a group home. I LOVED these people. (Not the workers, though. Isn't there always one named Kathy The Smoker who hates the world, her ex husband and her daughter that won't move out of the house at age 37?) One of the residents was always yelling. HI KIERAAAAA. MAYBE DA NEXT TIME I CAN SEE YOUR BABYYYYYYYYY. WHO FREW DAT AT MEEE? She was also very strong with behavioral issues. In other words, she could snap your neck if you didn't watch your back.

Then there was the public masturbator. This is no lie. This one time I brought him to a baseball game.....

Then there was Doug, who was obsessive compulsive and obsessed over (including but not limited to) my dad, jack fm, me, other workers, anesthesia (my dad's a nurse anethsetist).

Job number two was an assisted living home. I was a "dietary aide" aka lunch lady. Then I was promoted (demoted?) (moted?) to "residential aide" aka the dirty work. Where I had to scrub just about anything and anyone in the building. And give medicine! and put on pressure stockings! and lotion in unreachable places! buuut ilovedit.

So maybe I like having "rewarding" jobs, but I think what it really boils down to is shower stools, double shower heads and floral bath towels. It's like a taste of luxury. Or is it a taste of what's to come?

New blog

2010-11-22T18:11:00.002-05:00

I'm sure if I add anymore blogs to your reading list you'll need some major saline solution or a travel time machine. Maybe you'll just need some FreshLook Contacts in case you work your eyes to the nub. (Although a friend's experience tell me to only soak contacts in a sterile saline solution for contacts- or else you'll do your eyes more harm than good.) TANGENT.

But have you heard? I've started a new blog with a bad idea. 90 sans alcohol. As suggested, and as strong as it sounds, maybe, um, recommended to me. You'll have to go read it to know what I'm talking about, because I'm not going to label myself with a "drinking problem" on two blogs. That's too much for my fragile self.

Speaking of fragile self, I am sick like whooooaaaa today. Sick as in if I told you anything about it I would be giving you TMI. But I think it's probably the flu (hopefully 24 hours seeing as though I haven't ralphed in 5 hours.) Little triumphs, here, little triumphs.

But at least we all know it's not a hangover I'm nursing.

Swagger

2010-11-20T04:07:00.000-05:00

I need some major help. I need you to dish on CARS! Mr Incredible says things like "soooo have you looked into what car you want to buy yet?" Um no Mr Incredible. I crumble under pressure like that. I can tell you the cars I won't be getting: A jetta (yes I'm talking to YOU mr-incredible-tiny-car-that-I-fall-into), A Toyota Camry (the reviews say niet oh and i need a 7seat min), A 16 passenger van.

And all of those conclusions lead me no where. All of those decisions made me realize I should've brought the car into the auto repair as soon as I saw the bleepin check engine light instead of waiting until the car started shaking at a red light 45 minutes away from home.

Let's do what I do best. If I don't know the solution I procrastinate!: (I know I've already posted this)

The Problem with No Wheels

2010-11-18T14:09:00.000-05:00

So here I am on day three (four?) with no wheels. I'm actually really really loving it. ie My excuse to exercise. However there is just one teensy problem with no wheels.

When I was born my 7 year old at the time sister asked if I was Italian. Because I came out with SO MUCH dark, thick hair. We're Irish and German, no we're not Italian, no I'm not the post man's daughter, I just got the only strand of hairy dna in my entire ancestry. So if you're anything like me there is no doubt to the question 'If you could have only one thing while stranded on a deserted island what would it be?' umtweezersduh. Not that I'm prideful, but more that my rescuers wouldn't mistake me for a gorilla. AND if you're anything like me then you know there is no light like natural light. Not even halogens. So basic "if and only if" math says 'if you are hairy and only if natural light is suitable to do a thorough job then you tweeze in the car.' No doubt.

these are the things I learned in college. ie to be super woman

Unfortunately I didn't think of that when Jamie the tow man towed my car and all 4 sets of tweezers away. To it's final destination. Well, no, actually just the car shop. But 4 days for my face is final destination.

Yesterday emerging from the shower my two year old said, "Peppy pooooped." This sort of um, shit, throws me over the edge. So I went into our family room to find it. No where to be found. No where. But it stunk to the high heavens. Then I saw it: smears on the couch. I nearly lost my head and Peppy nearly lost his life when I decided that some fresh air would do us good. (after wooliting the um, shit, out of our couches and scrubbing them.) So we walked to Walgreens. On the way I realized Peppy was covered in fecal matter. We dropped Peppy off at the groomer to get bathed. Then picked up 2 sets of tweezers at Walgreens. Then went to Pizza Hut for dinner. Then walked home.

So friends, I'm happy to report that our house smells fresh, Peppy's ass is fresh, my face is fresh and I'm a new woman. All with out a car.

thank you Duquesne. For making yesterday possible.

DUNH DUHN DUNH another one bites the dust.

2010-11-17T13:59:00.000-05:00

And so the day has come. As inevitable as taxes. My Ford Windstar with two hubcaps has bit the dust. After thousands of dollars and hundreds of thousands of miles, here we are, homebound. I really don't mind being homebound, it's kind of a nice excuse to stay home and rearrange rooms.

But remember how we refinanced? Well we can't get a new car until our refinancing goes through. Probably in a few weeks. But why not go a few weeks more and cushion some money if we already have to wait? So here we'll be. Unless we cram ourselves into Mr Incredible's tiny tiny car.

And what type of car should we get? I would love a Traverse. But that's out of the budget. (what budget?) It's probably between a Swagger Wagon and a Honda Odyssey. Or really anything big.

So let's all take a moment of silence for big green van.

Thank you.

Pink to Crimson

2010-11-15T20:21:00.000-05:00

The only time in my life I've ever been relieved to find that I had low comment numbers on a blog post was yesterday. So shame on you if you didn't read it, because you'll probably have no idea what I was talking about. OHHHbut I'll explain. I wouldn't leave you hanging that bad.

Over the weekend I received an email to do some advertising on my blog (for money! Oh for the love of money.) My friends were over as I was checking me email. And we may or may not have been carousing. Anydrinkfest I eagerly (oh so eagerly!) replied to my email just to have my gmail go apesnap on me. So I googled this person's name who sent me the email and clicked on the link that brought me no where. All I could find was his facebook, linkdin, myspace. But then, oh then, I saw something about a virus. So I looked at it and behold! I found it, I caught him! This "man" was not a man, he was a virus (from which I'll with hold his name. Because I leaked it like whoa this weekend.) A virus that gives you all sorts of popups! I virus that is a nuisance, though not that bad.

I panicked and like any other good blogger I blogged about it immediately (after the headache subsided the next day). I titled the post 'I'll be damned, ________.' And damned was I when I received an email from him this morning. Damned was I when I rechecked my references. Damned was I when I realized you should never drink and read emails. Or research spam and viruses. Damned was I when I realized I lost my visions of laying in a bed of cash that I'd earned through blogging (without using Adsense!). Damnit.

But in all seriousness, I do owe this guy a sincere apology. It is totally not my style to slam someone's name, especially all over the www. But I really did think that his name was the name of a virus, so I didn't have any hesitation. I was sure satellites were watching in my windows all day, until I got his email. I felt like such a predator. Sorry, ______.

Now who wants their business in my sidebar???

Caffeine

2010-11-11T15:24:00.000-05:00

I'm 14,000 times overjoyed. But in all reality, it probably boils down to the excessive amounts of caffeine in me. My BFFFFFFFFF in reality and virtual reality started a blog. Friends, she is my BESTFRIEND4EVA. I've been trying to get her to blog since I began blogging. She's stubborn as an ass and likes things on her own terms, so 1.5 year later here she is.

And people, this is the start of something good. Not only is it a buzz in itself, I am a new blogger and we are going to conquer blogger one post at a time. Starting with soap.com. ahem. Anyway. You really ought to go follower her. She's desperate. Yes she's desperate. Words that she wouldn't dare say, but I'll most def say for her. Stay tuned. And go check out my better third (Mr Incredible could not be excluded from that. But there's nothing weird going on, either.)

strangely we have next to no pictures together. she has really fast blink reflexes.

Refinancing

2010-11-05T13:17:00.000-04:00

We just recently refinanced our house, interest rates are a whopping 3.75%. We had a couple of options; we could've kept our monthly payment the same and lowered it to a 15 year mortgage, or we could've kept it the same and gotten a loan for our kitchen (so we could have room for a normal kitchen table- so sick of those high stools), but we decided to keep it at 30 years and have the option to pay nearly $300 less. Sweet. A bunch of my friends have refinanced, too.

I love finding out new ways to get lower payments. By divine grace a realized that the girls qualified for super cheap health insurance- that's a saved at least $200! But with all of these saved payments we'll probably just be putting them (soon enough) to a new car with hubcaps. Because have I told you? Poor little minivan is breaking down more than it's running. Well, not quite true, but it stutters more than it runs.

Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. ps this is a major TMI POST

2010-10-27T23:49:00.000-04:00

I'm debating about how detailed to get with this post. This much I'll tell you. I've never cared so little about drinking 1180 calories worth of cranberry juice in my life. I will gain one inch (and that's a compromise, calories, so don't push it) around my waist if the burning OH THE BURNING will go away. I do not once more want to sink to my knees because I have to go SO BAD then crawl to the throne and have nothing come out. Tinkle constipation, friends. That's what I'll call it. Because calling it a UTI would be TMI.

So let's leave with a little poll. You know I love polls. Situation: We have 1 roll of toilet paper left. I'm dashing through Wegmans with vitamin C, cranberry juice and water. I pay, and go into the bathroom so I can make it until I get home. In the bathroom I realize that we are in the midst of running out of toilet paper (at home), and at the rate I'm going (or not) we'll be out in the morning. Would it be unethical to steal a roll from Wegman's bathroom? Remember: THE BURNING. I cannot possibly run to the opposite end of the story to get toilet paper. Let's have at it.

ps. I did not steal any toilet paper. I also did not run to the other end of the store to buy some. I merely put it out of my mind and figured I would cross that bridge when I get to it. That's always a bad decision. I always make that decision.

Ay Caramba

2010-10-26T22:17:00.000-04:00

I've gone Spanish and come back.

I can't believe I've become just another wasted space in the blogosphere! I've neither participated or contributed to the blog world. I'm tellin ya, it's this damn dog. (peppy I'll love you til the ocean turns to yogurt. Or you get hit by a car.) peta leave me alone. He's fine! Although, he did run into the street today, but since goose, deer and golf cart crossing are all too common on my street the drivers navigated little Peppy just fine.

So how are you, friends? (I know, the most awkward rhetorical question possible for a blogger to ask.) I've been good. Busy. I have this completely unnecessary itch to spray paint all of the insides of my cupboards.

And I've put myself on a spending freeze. Why, you ask? Frankly, I have no idea. Go figure I made this "commitment" to myself as I was pouring the last glass of milk and chomping on the last piece of produce in our house. The girls had crushed pineapple for snack today. My friend and I had champagne and shrimp cocktail for snack today. And peanut butter on spoons. Siccckkkk.

I'VE to bed. I will I WILL check in soon.

Much love from ME to YOU. Whoever reads this and comments will get a special prize. I'm not sure what yet, but believe me. Because YOU are my faithful ones.

blog bullletin

2010-10-06T15:09:00.000-04:00

Friends:

Hello, it's been awhile (part 14)
CSN has given me another promotion (yay). Last time I mentioned (yes, a mere mention!) I was able to purchase a wonderful quilt for the baby's nursery! It looks sooo good. I'll take a pic soon. I love it so much I'm actually going to get another one to have matching twin beds in the nursery (soon to be the big girls' room)

In all honesty, CSN is worth taking a look at. It's like a high quality Walmart online. I has anything from dining room chairs, to quilts, to dog strollers. yesssssssss.

Here's the quilt I got (and what I'm getting another of)

Put through the wringer

2010-09-14T20:23:00.000-04:00

Well congratulations, me! I've had my first mean anonymous commenters on my last post. Although, really they're not that anonymous.

I wrote a (mean, in retrospect) comment on someone else's blog. Along the lines of, wow that was boring. Only because I'm every day thoroughly entertained by this person. I've read the blog for at least a year every day, sometimes checking MORE than once in hopes that there'd be another post.

My comment: funny? Apparently not. Hurtful? Apparently so. But whoa Uncle Sam did I get some nassssty things said about me. On that blog. On facebook. AHHHH and such is the life of being able to say whatever you want to another person because this is all virtual.

Hey, at least I didn't try to disguise myself and comment as Anonymous. Righteous.

Mustard's never tasted so good

2010-09-12T13:06:00.000-04:00

You know how discouraging it is when you just can't shake those last 5, 7, 10 pounds? Me too. Especially since I haven't been working out, the weight that I'm at looks even heavier because it's not lean muscle. It's fatty fat.

My perfectly fitting jeans are fitting very imperfectly, and I'm always tugging at my clothes so they don't ride up, ride down, get bunched in the wrong places. Such a frustrating place to be in. The biggest problem of it all seems to be my appetite and love of all food/drink. That plus no self control has ground moving effects. Quite literally.

Poor Mr Incredible could hardly stand one more three-lettered question or comment. Clue: ends in t, starts with f and has a vowel in between. And 'fit' is not the correct answer. My poor children, even though they have not expressed in so many (or any at all) words, could barely stand one more day of me jumping for dear life into my jeans, red faced and sweating, and anxiously albeit politely asking them to leave my room so they could not watch in horror the spectacle I was creating.

So I'm taking some very sound advice and trying to go no carb for 2 weeks. 14 days. No big deal. Really what I should be doing is sleeping with a plastic bag over my head. Because that's easy to do for 14 days too.

It's 1pm on my second day of no carbs. I politely declined a Tim Hortons egg, cheese and sausage biscuit and a donut of any sort. And then when I came home shaking from the effects of too much coffee and no carbs (carbs=food) I downed 2 ninety seven percent fat free hot dogs. I was licking the ketchup and mustard off of my plate as fiercely as I would've licked chocolate icing off of an unsuspecting two year old's birthday cake.

It's that bad. But only twelve and a half more days to go.

Have you done any no carbs? How did you survive it?

This post brought to you by Bristol Palin and Oh! Calcutta

2010-09-05T22:09:00.000-04:00

Ugh this pic doesn't even do them justice

When I heard today that Bristol Palin is going to be on Dancing With the Stars, I knew I had to honor the Palins immediately. I needed to find an occasion to wear those shoes.

I'm 5'9. And so is Mr Incredible (height may or may not be his only un incredible characteristic.) And what better place would I have to wear these than an Indian restaurant? Where I can one up small Indian men two times with 1) my height 2) my thick (er?) Buffalo accent? I bet Bristol felt like me, too.

Bristol are you feeling self conscious than your leg is bigger than his head? Very relatable tonight, Bristol. Very relatable.

Sarah, why do your legs look so much hotter than mine?:

and this pic DOES NOT DO MY LEGS JUSTICE.

One Oh! Calcutta martini (two parts liquor to one part pineapple juice to one part Indian cologne)

Indian waiter, "you get rose he get beel."

Do I have loose ends not tied up? Have I made a complete thought throughout this whole post? Sorry. Oh! Calcutta. and mr incredible's left over beer. good. night.

At least the title was good

2010-08-29T12:55:00.001-04:00

I'm Irish (like I don't wear that on my sleeve) hence I'm morbid. It's just in the blood. The running joke in my family, for instance, is that no party is complete without my mom's "untimely and tragic" story. There needs to be at least one for the "Opa!" effect.

So really, what should I've expected when I read a novel by an Irish 23 year old? A series of untimely and tragic events, of course. But I didn't expect that. I expected the book to be just as wonderful and moving as the movie P.S. I Love You. (I don't even really like movies, let alone get effected by them. During ps I love you I was streaming tears the entire time. I'm not sure if pregnancy hormones had anything to do with it, but I'm not willing to take the risk that it wasn't.) The cover of the book says that it's by the same author. Which should've been my second red flag. If you like a movie so so much, chances are the book can't live up to the movie. And isn't it always a shame when you read the book then watch the movie? ( I hear Eat, Pray, Love is exceptional.)

and And that was the only credit that the book cover gave to this book. No New York Times reviews. No reviews at all, really. No preface (not that a book needs them, because frankly, I never read them. Although I always realize in retrospect that I should've read the preface. This happens every single time.)

So. With all that being said, I need to say one more thing. I never thought that I'd be the type of person that would write a bad review on a book. It is someone's piece of art, after all, and who am I to slander that? Why would I deter someone else from reading it? (especially since it's just a depressing novel?) I have no answers to that question other than I can't believe I wasted 450 pages (but only 3 days, if I might add) to read it.

It was series after series of missed meetings with the true other. And then when they're fifty and divorced and baby mamas and baby daddys and failures failures failure and 415 pages of FAIL they decide "oh my true love! We've been "best friends" (let's face it you can't have the opposite sex be your best friend through marriages et cetera et cetera) since we were 5 now let's get mawwwwied even though your post menopausal and we have a combined three children in three different countries. AND you're a successful doctor who only cares about work and YOU'RE always bitching about being a single mother and the manager of a hotel who didn't even pass health dept regulations." And you're attracted to each other why?

There is one thing I was impressed with, however. Apart from the epilogue, the whole book was written via letters, emails, Instant messages. But when I think back about the story, the times and places of events are very clear. That is the one and only thing that I would describe as "talent" or literal "piece of work." But boyy, was this book a piece of work.

I also like the Title (main character's name) Rosie Dunne. Who wouldn't want to be named that? And I liked reading it in my own version of an Irish brogue. That was the one thing that kept me from scratchimg my eyes out.

So if you're ever in the mood to read a very frustrating story that uses phrases like "gone mental" and "demented" and every 150 pages mentions a drag queen named "Miss Behave" to jazz the story up, this is definitely the book for you.

But clearly, I don't want to talk about it, so keep it to yourself.

I'm off to read about training my puppy, for a dose (or more) of reality.

I get by with a little help from my friends (followers?)

2010-08-27T16:41:00.000-04:00

We all remember the days of celebrating when we'd have one more follower. I remember clearly the day that I was up to my fourth follower and first random commenter. I shouted for joy and told Mr Incredible (among others) and I quote: "A professional blogger commented!" I'm realizing a year or so later that she wasn't "professional" she had a lot of followers. Again, my mantra applies, tomato tomahto.
.....
Wait. Who am I kidding? I still wait for just one more follower. And a different commenter. Heck! I even got an anonymous commenter the other day! The only reason I was sad was because I wasn't verbally harassed by he she (it?). And I'm still, STILL waiting for the day I get a Cambodian spammer in my comments section. That's official like relationship status on facebook official.

But alas.

So I'm imploring your help. Because when Jen says that she's blogging for her job (pffff) and Emcy asks "how do you have 104 followers? Not that I care how many followers I have...*trailing off...* (pfff) and Rose is "online journaling" we all just know that they are new bloggers who haven't come to grips with Step 1: Admitting. Admitting that we are powerless over our need to be noticed. To have followers.

We all want to be leaders of a circus. In our case, it's a virtual circus. Which is pretty thought provoking. Descartes, anyone? (Rose?)

So I'm going to strongly advise you to go read their blogs and follow. Follow. Follow. And I'm going to proudly list them on my blog roll under my (not yet existent) Friends and family Blogs. I always thought those friend and family blogs were such a Below the Belt Move. Like saying, "these are outrageously awesome blogs under 'My Faves,' but please excuse my Friends and Families' blogs." Not so, friends.

I guarantee youll be slightly envious of their way with words. Dormant Gloria Steinman? Yes please. Delightfully and maybe overeagerly assisting policemen (while describing her husband as having a 'clipped bark'?) Uh thank you yes. Chicken wings (too many?)? Forgetting to take out the garbage (again?)? Now that is empathy at its finest.

Welcome to the Family

2010-08-25T13:31:00.000-04:00

I've discovered something new about me today. I'M NOT A NATURAL AT DOG REARING. I've discovered something else about me today. I take back all the times I self deprecatingly shook my head at people when they would say that I'm natural and good mom. BECAUSE I AM. My new dog told me so.

New dog, you say? Kiera, what's this? Answer: I don't know!

Here's the story. We wanted a labradoodle. We as in I suggested a dog to Mr Incredible. Ya know, someone to play fetch with. Labradoodle- hypoallergenic, relatively mild, kid friendly. I always wanted a big dog. So it met the criteria. Yesterday we go to the pet store, conversation as follows:
Me: Mr Incredible just so you know if there's a labradoodle in there I'll want it immediately.
Him: No, we're going to go through a breeder, not the pet store,
Me: Just sayin.

Lo and behold, there was the sweetest lookin' labradoodle you ever did see there. (commence whining and my argument why we should get him right.now.)

Until took him out and played with him, that is.

Just a flesh wound.

My sweet little timid, timid, scared of any living thing (potato bugs included) children asked to play with a puppy that was little and sweet. We chose a little Havanese puppy. Upon delivery to my arms the pet shop worker said, "this dog is basically dead it's so chill."

Right. up. my. alley. Eldest daughter held this dog (!!) for 15 minutes (!!!!). And then said "I want to buy him." *heart melting*

Blah blah blah I can't believe I'm giving you all these details.

cut to the chase next day we bought dog. Named him Peppy.

I did my research on Havanese dogs, but maybe not so much dogs in general. A) You have to take them out in the middle of the night? B) You have to let them "cry it out in the cage?" THIS is the point that I'm emotionally detaching myself. None of my kids "cried it out" in their cribs (and btw, they sleep through the night in their own bed (cept the baby is still in our bed)) But I'll be damned if a dog ends up in bed with me. I'll be damned. C) Dogs have "rest time" and "play time." I thought dogs just laid around all day waiting to harass the mailman. No? No.

Needless to say, I'm more tired than I've been in a while. Although this is the nice type of tired because my body isn't recovering from labor.

Meet Peppy

in all his glory.

With Pep in his step.

Beef-a-reeno

2010-08-17T21:09:00.000-04:00

This restaurant
plus

these horses standing outside of it
made me laugh out loud remembering this:

rusty! no!

Miley has it wrong. It was a party in Can-AH-da

2010-08-16T20:03:00.001-04:00

I'm back! What? you didn't miss me? Oh, it's because I was on a long weekend. Not a vacation. There it's been clarified.

What I look like on vacation. no for real.

I'll begin at the beginning and the end. We went to Blue Mountain in Canada. It's a ski resort only it was summertime. So it was a summer resort on a mountain. It was ah!mazing. It's an hour and a half past Toronto. If you're thinking, "ooo I love big cities!" redirect your thinking to, "note to self: never go on vacation when you have to drive through a ginormous city." Unless you super fluffy heart traffic jams, of course.

Did you know that if Toronto were in the US (tomato tomahto, ay?) it would be the third largest city after nyc and la? Approaching the big city, I thought, 'Ikeas! skinny people (maybe even famous)!, musicals! and Asians!' Round number two: Approaching the city I thought, 'Please God don't let there be more traffic jams that creep up so fast on you that I'll get whip lash and more importantly, will let the kids wake up."

I won't get into all the wonderful nitty gritty details of it. But this much I'll say: Starbucks under our hotel room. Tim Hortons in Canada. Pool. Beach. Mountain. Someone else washing all of our dirty towels. Beer. Martinis. Wine. Live music. Need I say more, friends?? Need I say more.

Front: capri sun. Back: cranberry lime martini. It's not everyday that I have martinis. (garnished with limes, that is.)

There's a fungus among us (but I decided to blog about something else)

2010-08-12T15:03:00.002-04:00

I'm tired. Have I ever mentioned that before? I don't complete full sentences, thoughts, really anything other than appetite, when I'm this tired.

Have you ever read design interior blogs when you're tired? Gone to TJMaxx when you're tired? Tried ordering off the dollar menu? Decided between an ice cream sandwich and York mint patty? (I ate both plus another york mint patty. the big ones.) Gone to AAA to rent a van with all four hubcaps? DMV?

So now I'm tired an anxiety ridden. I'm not good enough and AAA and DMV employees have successfully made me feel inadequate and have left me wondering if my children are in fact comparable to ferrets. (So I didn't brush their hair today!!!!!) Most importantly, I'm frantically calling, emailing, scouring craigslist for a dresser like this:
(mind you I'm not trying to get a new bedroom furniture sets. This is for our living room/den)

to turn into this:

via

and I want to turn this:

into this:

via

Oh the list could go on.

Thank GOD I'M GOING ON VACATION TOMORROW.

Hopefully I'll come back Monday (oh, whatever, it's a long weekend. I call them vacations) with wonderful pictures and stories and the best Irish tan you ever did see.

See you thennnnnnn. <3 <3 <3

(the mere thought of vacation and my fingers just typed 790 words per minute.)

My Mahtha

2010-08-11T14:31:00.000-04:00

After many years I am slowly coming to grips with Martha. Martha Stewart that is. My mom always made it very clear to me that Martha was a daughter hating, stock stealing know-it-all. Which I heard as 'she makes gaudy crafts and has people who housekeep for her.' And newstand Enquirer magazine covers told me that she doesn't rock a thong bathing suit very well. Notice that "doesn't" doesn't mean "can't" or "won't" or "strongly advised not to." All these thing made me steer clear of her.

Fast forward (rewind?) four years ago when I had expiring frequent flier miles. Choose from the following: Martha Stewart living, Fishing, Golf, Southern Living. Obvious.

Needless to say, I've fallen in love. Martha, I love you and all of your turquoise orange stuff and crafts and print out lists and recipes and cookies of the day that I receive via email every single day. And your paints! oh, your paints, Martha! I was in a bit of a white wall hell when you withdrew your line (maybe they withdrew the line from you) of paint from Lowes. But you know that Home depot would pick up those pieces.

Today I was in celebratory retail therapy mode (again) (Mr Incredible's semester is over) at TJMaxx and I found Martha's cookbook for $12 from 50. I don't know whether I should eat it or read it cover to cover or start baking feverishly. Fat and furiously.

My little snowflake of respect for martha has now snowballed out of control. Sure! I'll make sesame cookies. Sure! I'll make nautical coasters. Yes! I'll hang up your must have for a laundry room list up in my laundry room. Of course! I will sweep the floor every night if you tell me to, Martha. Actually I'll lick it for you. What's your favorite Martha craft? cookie? list?

Let's talk Martha.

vacation

2010-07-31T15:12:00.000-04:00

I've been a ball of nerves recently. And it so happens that kids have been climbing and kicking and sitting right on that ball. Muy mal.

Since I am American and my July has been so patriotically busy everyone EVERYONE is overtired. My kids are adrenaline rushed overtired. Simply put: they're so tired they can't sleep. My head has been spinning. Yesterday everyone woke up uber early from their naps which put me in a fit of rage.
Me: God, you need to take my rage away, please, thanks?
God: Plan a vacation
Me: omg, God, you're so smart.
...
Hiiiiiiiiii kids!!!!!!!! I'm so happy you're awake! I love you and I don't care that you're whining incessantly because we're going on vacationnnnnnnnnnnn

Do you have any suggestions for a vacation spot (relatively cheap) in the Northeast? I made the humongo mistake of googling it. We'll pass on family massages, thanks.

I think I'm ready

2010-07-28T21:10:00.000-04:00

Whoa now that was one heck of a hiatus.

Hi! I'm back and I might even be ready to commit. Fingers crossed.

For a while there I just kinda lost my mind. I'm busy being bored. Bored as in Mr Incredible is home 6 hours a night and I need. to. fill. the. days. So I shop. I shop for food, I shop for me, I shop for Mr I, I shop for my family, I shop for birthdays that will occur in November. Expensive habit, I know.

I've also been busy being American. Because if you're not busy in July then you're not American and your passport should be revoked immediately. Many a hotdog's been ate and an icecream cone been slurped (lie I don't like cones). Beaches have been tread upon and pool's a peed in.

The whole gardening spiel that I wrote about? Niet. Too sticky, too many bugs. And it only looks okay. Which, if you think you know me, means that my towel is just about thrown in. For this year anyway.

See you tomorrow?

Hello, I've missed you (kinda) but the break was worth it

2010-06-23T13:19:00.000-04:00

You know how the longer it is you go with out calling an old friend, the longer the conversation is going to be, which puts off the call further? Helllllllo blog. So where to begin, old friend?

My basement: turns out it's not sewage, might not even be a foundation problem. Might be Roto Rooter are just this side of "professional plumbers."

What I've been doing: remember how I've said I can only really deal with one creative outlet at a time? Well I am a full fledged gardener (maybe.) I've transplanted (!!!!) a bush, I'm planting so many perennials I could have a mini nursery (not true). I've been weeding, watering, planting, Miracle growing, planting, planting. Weeding. I super puffy fluffy heart gardening. I'm already bracing myself for the loss I'll have to endure during the winter. Unfortch, once I take the winter break from it, come next spring I'll have no idea what the h I got myself into. Maybe not, we'll see. Carpe diem.

For a while I really felt like I had nothing much to say that was anything less than a Jewel song from her Spirit album. I was consumed in serious thought full of angst about the world we live in and what will become of me and who? who? is it that I love so much who will die first? Was that a run on sentence? sorry. Orange you glad I didn't blog these past couple weeks? I was pretty much zero fun. I completely delighted in my dread because it was a feeling of hopelessness it was just something to think about.

I totally have to get some pics up on this drab blog. I'll take some of my garden. And maybe the big pile of carpet that we ripped up from our basement before we found out it wasn't sewage. Maybe I'll tell you what I've been buying these days. (recovery of a somber mood = retail therapy.)

this makes me happy sad. watch it. happy sad as in why did i eat all those cookies last night.

And my foundation will be sturdier

2010-06-10T13:45:00.000-04:00

If my posts turn into one word sentences, or I just stop posting all together, call 911. Since I feel like I'm up to my neck in germs, I'm taking matter into my own hands and fumigating the house with bleach. It's my only choice because our BASEMENT FLOODED AGAIN. I am a powerless creature relying heavily on Roto Rooter, bleach and the blessing of BFI trucks. Thank you, garbage men, for taking all of my soiled (think same word usage as in a hospital, nursing home etc), wet goods every Monday morning.

Roto Rooter man is downstairs in my basement replacing my sump pump again (in less than a month) saying things like "Some things to tackle," and "your work cut out for you" and "$4,000- $5,000." We have another plumber coming to give us an estimate on the $1,800 fix in the next "few hours." (you get why that's in quotes, don't you?) And soon we'll have a FOUNDATION man coming within the next day because we need a new foundation or some crazy jazz because soil and sand is "weeping" through holes that the previous owner drilled in the ground. Hence our sump pump dies every time it rains.

So I'm left with approximately 4 brain cells, the power of prayer and my fist beating my chest "O Domine, Miserere, O Domine Miserere, Iesu Christe, Miserere"

My spring cleaning is more thorough than you-ourrrrrs

2010-06-08T20:47:00.000-04:00

Did anyone else get those torrential down pouring (more like side pouring) rains a few days ago? We did. And boy, was it shitty. Pun intended. Lot's of pun intended.

Rain is like an erratic teenager. So much potential to be so good, but even more potential to be devastating. So much good comes from it, yet so much damage can be done. Mama don't know whether to love im or hate im.

Last month we got a notable amount of rain and our sump pump went kaput on us. There was flooding in our basement, we had to throw out some of the girls' toys, but really the dehumidifier took care of us. Probably not the correct way to go about a mini flood, but it turned out fine. $500 dollars later and a new sump, I thought we were in the clear. I was wrong.

Most of the rain that came (in our most recent storm) was during the night. When I woke up first thing in the morning to get Mr Incredible's scrubs out of the drier, there was ankle deep water in about half of out basement. Psh, a little rain water never hurt anyone. So I waded through it, shook off my wet feet, went back upstairs to tell Mr Incredible that we were flooded. again. and worse. Hung up my pants to dry because why would I wash them? just a little rain water on the bottoms. We called the plumbers again, thinking maybe?? it was a faulty sump, even though I could hear it still running still. The plumber came (8 hours after they estimated) and couldn't figure it out. Next morning they sent another plumber to figure it out. I was (still) barefoot and was (still) wearing these:

the said pants that air dried then I slept nice and cozy in bed with them the next night.

K, really bad picture from two years ago. But they're wonderful girly dandelions blowing in the breeze pajamas. sigh. So glorious.

So I'm downstairs in the basement with the plumber and I picked up a few toys off the ground to put them on a shelf as he was saying something along the lines of "eureka! I've got it." ..... "don't pick up anything else without gloves on, k?" .... "You're basement has been flooding with sewage. Your town is notorious for this." .....

me: "you mean I'm stepping in my...."

him: "and your neighbors..."

ARE THE DOT DOT DOTS AS LOUD TO YOU AS THEY ARE TO ME TYPING THEM?

All my dominoes fell into place and it made sense. My basement was smelling like a bad gastric blowout that you find only on porta potty walls. The first day I went into the basement I was sliding around. Ya know, the same feeling as stepping on the bottom of a duck infested pooped pond. All my white to-be-washed pile of towels developed brown rings around them.

ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET? ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET? My jaw is tight just typing this. My toes were squishing in not just our OWN fecal matter, but my geriatric neighbors, too. Prune juice, laxatives and grapefruit.

So this is what I've been doing, friends. Double gloving it, throwing out anything that cannot handle concentrated bleach, moving furniture, washing washing washing, Xacto knifing our carpet, bringing dripping poop laden carpets, toys, garbage upstairs. This is what I'm doing.

Please don't never return back to my blog because I wrote a poop post. This was such an exception and I pray that I'll never have write anything as nauseating again.

Did I mention that to get this fixed is an estimate $1,800?? As in I have a van with missing hubcaps can't we please start saving for a new one? No, we need to make sure poop will never backwash into my house again. Me thinks I need to learn the bus route.

Throwing in the proverbial towel. Or at least wanting to.

2010-06-03T07:03:00.000-04:00

I'm stuck. Winnie the Pooh stuck. If I just don't eat the damn honey I can get out of what I started. But I love honey. And so it goes with blogging.

I went out for a delightful wonderful time with my good friends tonight. In absolute passing they mentioned how my blog is scratch your eyes out uppity. Of course this is what stuck with me for the rest of the night. That I don't let on to my true self, feelings, etc. Other people have said the same thing to me. And a friend's friend read my blog (once) and thought I'm super perfect. (wait, okay, I just flattered myself a million times over, but that's along the lines of what people were saying). I do try to take a positive spin on my blog. a) who wants to read people's woes? (answer: a lot of people. so they can "relate.") b) what if ex boyfriends are reading this (answer: yes, I'm that vain) c) why the h would I want to air my dirty laundry (answer: at least my dirty laundry is smeared bananas on the shoulders of shirts)

But honestly, I've had a pretty shitty week. Then again, "shitty" is relative. I could not think of a life that I'd rather have. Because I love my life. So I guess this all is the viscous cycle of am I acting cheerful or AM i cheerful? TBD.

Mr Incredible and I have been at each other's throats. I (still) haven't printed one picture since my 8 month old was born. I've hung nary a picture on our wall to decorate the house. When I asked Mr Incredible if my love handles were coming back he answered that "maybe I should just start walking some more." (no, that's not emotionally abusive or insensitive, I expect him to answer those types of questions in honesty) My kids, particularly the eldest, are painfully shy and it can be so frustrating sometimes because people cannot see all that she has to offer. Sometimes I feel like in wanting to please everyone I please no one.

But really? That's really what I have to complain about? I have a good life. I suppose it is a cheery life, full of life, love and more love. But I do fight with my husband, yell at my kids, make a fool out of myself, and have elephants and cougars and a mirrored wall in our bedroom. I'm fiery and emotional and sometimes feel not good enough. It's not perfect, but what is?

Maybe 'Imperfect Daisies; The Tale of a Real American Housewife' should be more like The Tale of a Cheerful American Housewife; or Sarcastic American Housewife; High Strung, Low Energy American Housewife; Disregarding American Housewife

SUGGESTIONS? you know I love your opinions.

No money in the world

2010-05-27T23:06:00.000-04:00

This is not an obituary. They're alive and kickin' despite what these close up photos say.

Just sayin', I wouldn't have it any other way.

You know this isn't a mommy blog. But I do own bragging rights.

what I wore wednesday didn't exactly pan out like planned

2010-05-26T22:58:00.000-04:00

Finally after weeks of indecision, I decided that I wanted to be an active member of What I Wore Wednesday, over at Pleated Poppy. Active as in 2:7 days. As in I would not've been allowed to participate in any extracurricular activity in high school. I'M SORRY LINDSEY CHENEY.

Actually, she should be apologizing to me because what the h, lindsey? Where is What I Wore Wednesday!?!??!?!?!!??! Turns out I'll have to do my own pitiful, pitiful, so so sad version of WIWW (<-- not world war 1 or 3).

Drumroll: (In other words I'm feeling narcissistic and embarrassed that I really think you care about my clothes. I'M TRYING TO BLOG EVERYDAY HERE, PEOPLE.)

Tshirt: Jcrew (my friend thought it was a sparkly buffalo on it which made my sparkle love it)

camisole: gap

Jeans: Banana Republic (love because they fit perfectly, love more because they were $12)

Try one:

Try two:

Finally Mr Incredible came home:

shirt: BR

jeans: gap

shoes: awesome pumas

What I didn't wear Wednesday:

And since you waited all so patiently, I'll tell you where I got it. A garage sale. From h&m. But a garage sale. Did that change your minds?

The clothesline opinions were inspiring

2010-05-25T19:03:00.000-04:00

I was totally diggin' that you guys had an opinion on clotheslines yesterday, and diggin' even more that Team Kiera prevailed. As always. You people really showed me that you care about my clothes (or something)

Tomorrow I'll be linking up my blog to What I Wore Wednesday. What I was supposed to do was take pictures of what I wore every day that week, then I'll display it every Wednesday. I think I took two or three outfits. I forgot the other days or maybe was in my pajamas most of the day. Oops. What I don't want to happen is me looking like a goofy ol faux pas, so I am employing your help. Again. Opinions. Remember, I won't be sad or mad or happy no matter what you say about this outfit. I'll either keep, or I won't. It's either cute, or it's really not. I've owned it now for two years and have never worn it.

I'm not going to tell you where it's from because I don't want you to be biased.

Maybe I'll cut off the puff sleeves and make it sleeveless.

Who am I kidding, unless my mom does it for me, it'll never happen.

Sparks aren't flying like I'd expected between me and my sewing machine.

One more thing, if I do wear it ever, it'll be ironed.

Does it make my legs look fat?

You don't have to answer that. But if you want to say something like, "cut out the chocolate, fatty"

Last last thing: I didn't wear it today because it's totally not nursing accessible. It'd be to wear out on a date with Mr Inc, not for a playdate.

I realize that out of every square foot of property I live on, I had to take it in front of my 1:2 missing hubcaps. I'm okay with that.

The Verdict is in:

2010-05-24T19:53:00.000-04:00

Congratulations, HUTCH. Enjoy your new (vintage) sugar dish and creamer!!!!! Promise you'll bring it if we ever get Tim Horton's together, k?

True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max: Result:5Powered by RANDOM.ORG

Your opinions counts

2010-05-24T13:00:00.000-04:00

It has been absolutely beautiful weather here in the Blo these past couple days. 79, clear skies and sunny right now.

Yesterday I was driving with Mr Incredible and we passed someone's big yard with a clothesline. Their clean laundry was blowing and swaying everything breathed summer. I excitedly told Mr Incredible that I was excited about hanging a clothesline (it's been a year since we moved into our house!). He got a 'are you crazy' smirk on his face which naturally made me immediately defensive. "What, Mr Incredible, tell me why you think that is a terrible reason and convince my why using energy from our dryer is so much better." He said that he thinks that clotheslines look WT. I think they look romantic.

The whole sunny day clean cotton feeling quickly dissipated and left me deflated.

Romantic? WT? (think: Team Kiera)

via

Bugs down, bottoms up

2010-05-21T20:02:00.001-04:00

First off, please stop being stubborn and enter the giveaway! Last chance!

*****

I think I've hurdled the hump of gardening. I've never been a gardener, but always wished that I was. My dad has a great garden with tomatoes and onions and carrots and strawberries and a peach tree- and that's just mentioning the edible stuff. His flowers and bushes are beautiful and he and my mom put in lots of time and effort for their garden. I always imagined that is how owning a home would be for me too. (cut Somewhere Over the Rainbow) We have deer that eat anything other than hydrangeas and some other flower that I forget, the plants that I try to raise die, and most importantly I've always been afraid of bugs. My summertime punishment growing up was to weed the garden. Being afraid of bugs made that job hell. Deep sea diving with sharks sans cage sounded better. (not that it was an option)

So I'm still on that faux homeschooling mother earth is wondaful mom kick. Which means the girls and I are outside a lot; which means I'm trying to point out the extraordinary in the ordinary; which means I kinda semi have to get down and dirty; which means BUGS. Ants are the only things that are okay. Butterflies are OUT so don't mention it. One is fluttering by you and you think, okay, I'll dodge it and go to the left and vroom it goes to the left and then you're like, oh 'scuse me, I'll go to the right and bam they're aiming for your face then you're like OH SHIT EVERYONE HIT THE DECK and that's when it decides to land on that beautiful butterfly infested lilac bush right outside your front door. They all get scared and you realize you're in butterfly hell because now they're all flying in everywhichway direction and really all butterflies are are really juicy hairy caterpillars that fly. And you know how insects can manage to squeeze through anything well you can only imagine Oh! The Places They'll go! like up or down your pants.

So like I was saying I've had to act brave and courageous around all creatures of God so my girls may not end up as neurotic as I. Lo and behold, it worked! Acting courageous made me courageous. So today I confidently put on my new (read: what I bought last year and never opened) gardening gloves and started pulling weeds like they was nobody biznit.

My next hurdle: Overcoming the inevitable 'initiation to motherhood' pose:

We must rise as a nation and send them to meredith.

2010-05-20T21:48:00.000-04:00

I'm stealing these family photos from her to make sure more people can appreciate this. Because I'm crying laughing and beer literally just came out of my nose looking at these. Meredith, thank you for the good word that you spread throughout the 'net. I wouldn't have laughed yet tonight if it weren't for you.

BUT before you look try to think if you have any awkward family photos. If you do, you too can be featured. Send 'em.

now some of my own research:

google. duh.

I'm human again.

2010-05-19T13:49:00.000-04:00

I've only known one person in my entire life who actually thrives with very minimal sleep. 3 to 4 hours a night, precisely. The thought of that makes my legs achey and my eyelids heavy. I know other people who are just fine when they don't get enough. That is commendable to me. Me, however, is an exception. I generally try not think of myself as 'the exception' and more 'the rule.' (<- elizabethtown) Because I'm not exceptional, I am just the same as everyone else. Except when it comes to sleep. I take after my mom and grandmother (okay, so we're back to square one. I'm not exceptional. Even with sleep). They can sleep anytime. Anywhere. My grandmother says she could sleep on a clothesline (I think that's how it goes, I'm so terrible with sayings). So I can sleep no matter what.

The problem is without sleep I am a monster. And that's only a slight exaggeration. For realz.

My babies tend not to sleep all of their seventh month of life. Not sure why. So all night long I'm tossing and turning and just trying to get this baby to sleep. (She's in bed with us because that's how we roll. Literally) Needless to say, I've been a little bit edgy, foggy, grumpy, pissed, confused, hungry hungry hungry (why? why? does it always go back to food for me!?)

Until last night. She slept again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AKA pancakes and David Gray for breakfast, shopping, visitors, cleaning, hotdogs for lunch, no nap while my kids are napping which equals blogging and cookie dough. Because when I'm happy I eat, too.

So I think I'll go tie up the loose ends of my life right now and maybe even work out. Because I have energy again. relief.

Blogs, we have a problem

2010-05-17T21:11:00.000-04:00

I opted out of the blog roll scene for ohsay one week. No bien. I thought it would be a good idea because then I wouldn't have to weed out the blogs that I don't read every day, and I wouldn't have to show everyone what I was reading or not.

Instead my head turned into a fuddled mess every time I came on the computer. "now which blogs was I hoping to read, again?"

So we're back. And my blog roll is growing and growing and I love it and I'm overwhelmed. And I'm not even done adding blogs.

Anyone else overwhelmed by this? In other words, so many blogs, so little time.

And the Etsy gods smiled and opened up the heavens and showered down amazing-ness. In other words, GIVEAWAY!

2010-05-17T09:01:00.000-04:00

I have a simple word equation for you:
high noon cup of tea
plus
vintage
plus
Etsy
plus
giveaway
equals
the warmest virtual feeling of love ever.

This creamer and sugar bowl makes my heart melt a little and my mouth water for Earl Grey tea and lots of sugar cubes. (Actually I love raspberry splenda in my earl grey, but this set mocks anything less than decadent.)

halfpenny vintage is a Chicago based shop that specializes in anything beautiful and vintage. And sometimes vintage's awkward days. They are offering this set to one lucky, lucky reader! Go visit halfpenny vintage and leave a comment to enter. Winner will be announced next Monday. Good luck!

This week in review:

2010-05-15T20:32:00.000-04:00

Someone better get me a beer quicker than you can say "Mr Incredible's new shoes."

Because every time I pass them I shudder.

Just because they're Adidas doesn't mean they're stylish. This is called victimizing the brand name shopper. Shame on you, Adidas.

The worst part of this entire fiasco? I did this to him. See, he needs a pair of white sneakers for his nursing program. Because nurses wear white shoes so body matters can show up clearly on them. Mr I was about to buy shoes himself. That in itself is against the laws of nature and the laws in this home. Add 'white' and 'sneakers' to that list and you can call me Johnny-on-it.

Two choices. K-swiss, or Adidas. Weighing options, weighing options- Adidas. I seriously didn't think they'd look that bad though.

*** I just told him to read what I've written so far and he said, "how bad do they look?" then clicked over to the photos. I suppose this is my opportunity to show the world***

uh huh.

In his defense, he realizes this. The first day he came out doing the Newsboys heel click and asking "what is it that reminds me of being a little boy again?"

But this. This has to stop. When you take them off, Mr Incredible, they must be parallel with each other. Or else it would be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

I don't know why this wasn't on Fox News

2010-05-14T20:47:00.000-04:00

Obama was in Buffalo yesterday, much to my surprise after he'd already came, visited, then left. Frankly I don't know what he was doing here, but I know the important specifics. a) A girl who got to speak with him told him that he was "a hotty with a body." Representin', I'll tell ya. Buffalo, woot woot.

And most importantly- food b) he went to Duff's wings and ordered 10 extra crispy medium wings. If I could edit people's behavior, I wouldn't know where to begin with this, Mr President. First of all, Duff's is dandy and all, but when you come to Buffalo and want wings, you go to the Anchor Bar. That's a given. The person who mislead you to this wings' joint (on the outskirts of Blo, nonetheless) should most definitely be fired. Secondly, no one orders their wings extra crispy. This ain't Kentucky Fried Chicken, this is Buffalo, New York. (Bad news, that's not my joke. Good news, that's not my joke.)
credit

credit
RIGHT

credit WRONG

Taking the plunge

2010-05-13T09:50:00.000-04:00

I've said before how we really, really don't watch much tv. Really not at all. Mr Incredible and I love The Mentalist, Castle and The Amazing Race, and he loves hockey and football, but other than that very rare.

So what is it with feeling like canceling our cable is going to be a sentence? Isn't it kind of crazy that having cable is just what you do? It's NUTS. It's give or take $60. Sixty dollars a month. That is ballpark $700 dollars a year. (!!!!) Basically we pay about $3 an episode for our favorites. But even not really because off season, reruns, etc. AND you can nearly find any show on hulu if you wait 24 hours (except the Mentalist)

So why am I getting cold feet?

When I called to cancel the lady said that for $11 a month we can just get the basic channels. That seems to cure my hesitance, but do I really want to pay $11 more (than I have to) a month? I know, it's the all or nothing in me. It's seems obvious to do that, right? (When I can't get ahold of Mr Incredible for more than 5 minutes, I reach out to you, blog readers. Delight in that.)

via

There their or they're.

2010-05-11T20:54:00.000-04:00

There are some words that actually make me crazy. Some crazy to say, some to hear, and most when people say them wrong. For instance. I am to the point where I can barely stand to use a stapler anymore and will succumb to only paperclips. For the rest of the day after the use of a stapler I have to use much restraint to not smash my face into a window just thinking of the word. Stap-ler. That is how it's spelled and that's how my brain feels it should be said. Instead of staple-r. A stap LER? That makes me so mad I lose my peripheral vision.

There is this other word that I've been trying to remember all morning and day and night that I cannot stand hearing or saying. It's actually literally making me crazy. It's a common word and either starts with a 'd' or and 'f' and has one 'r' but everyone automatically adds an extra one where it doesn't belong including me and I loathe it. It's something like 'friendly' or 'framework' and there is really very little choice but to use the word because it is so common. But I can't think of it. I've been picking my brain all day to remember it and my brain is raw.

This post is getting painfully boring.

Do me a favor:

library, not lie-berry
across, not acrossed
especially, not expecially

via

Let's be honest. How painful is spelling sandwich. Sandwitch? Sandwhich? That one gets me every time.

New Leaf

2010-05-10T19:28:00.000-04:00

First things first. Hello 3 column minima template sans ShabbyBlog background. Welcome. I'll be honest. I never really ever actually notice anyone else's template/background/layout unless it's really rockin'. AAalmost never. So I really don't expect that you've ever noticed mine. BUT isn't it beautiful? My technologically, beautiful, smart smart savvy smart cousin figured out my html hell I was in. I am SO excited. When I asked Mr Incredible to look at my "new blog" he said, "was. it. the. chad?"? Um no. New layout. Not blog post title. But you might have never seen the old one. And that's cool (kinda).

So speaking of Mr Incredible and all his incredible-ness, he is starting an accelerated (I told you he's above average) school program. Basically it's four years of school all crammed into one. And he'll be working all the while. Ahmazing. (orange you glad I didn't say incredible?) Fifty. four. credit. hours. In the next 365 days.

And of course, since this is my blog and solely about me-ow I'll tell you how this directly effects me.

...

K, I'm not really sure. But I'll be damned if I don't have three meals a day served every single day of the next 365. For some reason the only way I can think to contribute is with food. And cleaned and ironed clothes. (have I ever told you how much I luuurve to iron???) Any other suggestions? Should I be doing more? Less (never)?

via

Me. Pearls, yes. Black turtleneck under blue polka dots, no. Grey hair, kill me. Pink napkin, Incredible wouldn't be caught dead. Second degree burns due to chicken casserole steam, hope not.

Was it the chad?

2010-05-07T14:31:00.001-04:00

I've lost a total of three (or was it four?) followers in the past 2 weeks. I realize that people who "follow" don't necessarily read. I also understand that people want to weed out the blogs that they don't actually read. It doesn't make the sting go away though.

I've been thinking a lot about unfollowing blogs that I don't read. I would rather not have a blog roll and instead have my own reliable list of blogs I enjoy. After losing "so many" (<- relative) followers though, I'm not sure I want to put anyone else through the disappointment. Frankly, it sucks.

So, was it the chad?

I won't talk about stupid blogger anymore. at least not right now.

2010-05-06T20:40:00.000-04:00

For my birthday/ mother's day, Mr Incredible decided on getting me a sick camera for me. He's letting me choose which one, which is a badgood idea. I have complete cold feet from it because they are so expensive and I'm overwhelmed. Because I know me, it'll probably be another year. or three.

I was on the phone this morning talking to my friend about it when the doorbell rang. It was literally like a bad tv show how perfectly it worked out. In the mail was this:

I thought that the box was from a giveaway I'd one with some ghetto Sherrie's Berries packaging (not that the giveaway I won was ghetto, or that Sherries Berries is ghetto, just all of it summed up together), but alas! it was not. There were true sherrie's chocolate covered berries in the box!

At this point I thought it was surely from his grandmother or mom, because they're cool like that and are always on top of holidays. Wrong again!

cory= Mr Incredible, just incase that threw you off.

If you're thinking that's nice and cute and wonderful but my husband/significant other does this on a weekly basis, think again. I want to say something like this has NEVER happened, but I'll be safer with very rarely. He's just not into the mushy gushy stuff and that's cool. Most of the time. This made me so happy I was literally almost speechless. I felt like I should cry, but I didn't, mostly because I don't cry happysad tears.

I know you're wondering, what can you take from this post?

I have very little happysad emotion in me
Saving $40 on shipping charges to have it come three days early will win my heart over doubly. I love saving money, Mr Incredible not so much. So that right there spelled l-o-v-e
Those last five pounds can wait
You have it right there in writing: I am the Best Mother Ever

One last thing: Let's just clear the air. It's not that Mr Incredible isn't lovey dovey, it's that he is painfully practical. Less Shakespeare, more Bob the Builder. Not in terms of learning levels, though.

Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody

2010-05-05T13:38:00.000-04:00

I need a computer dweeb, quick. Dweeb is not offensive, it's endearing. Now someone go get me a computer dweeb.

If you've been obsessively checking my blog in the past 24 hours like I obsessively check some of yours, you know that the blog templates have been beaten and thrown to the ground. Then rebeaten then trampled on. And guess what? Naught without labor. Or naught with labor. Because it's NOT doing what I tell it to and shabbyblog I swear to the stars if you don't let me take your backgrounds off my blog I will singlehandedly html you until you cry.

So. Can someone help me? I'm a technological idiot. Or can you direct me to where to go!? I'm pulling out my hair when I should be writing sweet posts about doll heads and iced coffee.
kthanks.

via

p90x Results

2010-05-04T13:07:00.000-04:00

are not here.

They're here. kinda.

What I've been up to

2010-04-30T21:02:00.000-04:00

We've established that I've been royally annoyed with Blogger, no? In all actuality, that's only about 70% of my excuse as to why I haven't been blogging. The other 30% is called 'different creative outlet.' Correct. I am only able to handle one creative outlet at a time. Further proving that I'm not naturally creative. E for effort though.

So anyway. You know how I go through those "I'm a sucky mom!" "I'm a hands on mom!" kicks? Well she's at it again, folks. This time it's more like "I'm an all natural faux homeschooling mom who only participates in all things warm, fuzzy and mother earth-ish."

The fruits of my labor:

JA! How cute is he?! Please realize that this is my first Waldorf (or any other type, for that matter) doll and I'm hooked. So hopefully my future dolls will look less like they've just had their wisdom teeth out and more like this (this is what I was going to use for Wordless Wednesday...):

no, wait, maybe they are very similar. My babies are very fat. Very Fat. And I like to dress them as close to a fat Buffalo Jills as possible. OH that's a joke. That outfit was painted on her.

So back to the dolls. My friend taught me how to make the heads, which are the hardest part. Then I stumbled on this site which gives free tutorials et cetera. I'm so excited to make dolls for our doll house, and more little snuggly dolls. WHO KNOWS. Maybe I'll get good enough to actually sell these little beauties!?

The morning after I finished my doll my three year old came in and woke me up and said, "mommy! I love my doll!" uh, super cute and Mr Incredible shed a tear or two. Don't tell him I said that.

this one goes for $125 on Etsy. I will be a millionaire.

Lastly, my parent's are away for the weekend at the Sheep and Wool convention in Baltimore. a) they're picking me up so high quality doll hair wool stuff b) I'm not kidding. They took a plane.

I'll post more pics of my up and coming dolls, and hopefully some with hair, too. Because you carrrrre.

pps Mr Incredible already told me that his body is disproportionate to his head. Thanks anyway!

The Winner!

2010-04-29T19:36:00.000-04:00

I am so totally beyond frustrated with Blogger; I thought the ridiculous issue would work it's Google magic and figure itself out by today, but bleepin alas.

Were these instructions helpful? Click no no no no no Google.

So, no pictures (it doesn't even give me an option to post pictures), no fun, oh, except for the WINNNNNERRRRRR!!!!

Foxy from the Fox Den!!!! (won't let me do bold or a link, sorry Foxy). Get me your info so I can send it forward!

Dear Blogger

2010-04-28T13:11:00.001-04:00

I strongly dislike you and let me actually post my wordless wednesday. stop being so $@$# difficult.

This post took me 24 hours. I'm not sure why.

2010-04-27T09:16:00.000-04:00

I promised my ever faithful reader (hi nwright) that I would document my Friday birthday celebration. She wanted picture documentation, but that stopped real quick after I took the first picture in fancy-ville restuarant and my little samsung flash lit up the entire place and screamed that I am not accustomed to fancy dinners with just the husband. And that my camera takes embarrassingly bad pictures:

sorry nwright.

I'll start with first things first. Drinks. Let me preface this with I had a rough day. I showed up at my parents' house crying sans makeup, frizzy hair and insisting that neither I nor the kids deserved to have fun because we were all acting crazy. My ever understanding mother said four simple words that changed my night. "Go have a Manhattan." "okay."

Have you ever had a Manhattan????? I thought it was going to be something fruity delicious wonderful because my parents are NOT drinkers. I should've known better when the waiter started asking me how I wanted it and with what type of whisky. Being the obedient child I am, though, I told him to make it on the "sweeter" side (read: straight up rubbing alcohol with a marachino cherry). First sip made my eyes water and remind me of the first time I drank.

Bread: Pretzel rolls with butter (mustard would've gone better, Black and Blue)

Appetizers: Crab and lobster fondue aka cheese cheese cheese with a side of gourmet

Bottle of wine: (should've known even better than the Manhattan)

Dinner: Mr Incredible got the Paella; spicy clams, lobster, crab, scallops, shrimp, on top of saffron rice. But that's not really accurate because I don't really remember. I got short ribs and hangar with bleu cheese mashed potatoes and the biggest awesomest onion rings you could imagine. I didn't even eat half of it because at that point I went to the bathroom to check to see if my dress was literally splitting at the seams I was so full. It was not. This is not a joke.

Two hours (?) later we left, went to the local icecream shop to pick up cake so I could celebrate with the kids and my parents. I was too full to eat it, but I heard it was good.

This might've summed up the night:

he looks underage

and i look like a dog. a dog who just had a manhattan.

Which is more important? my birthday or a GIVEAWAY?

2010-04-23T14:06:00.000-04:00

Today is my birthday.

More importantly, we have another giveaway!!!!

or should it read:

Today is Friday, April 23rd and we have yet another giveaway. How fun are these giveaways???

More importantly, it's my birthday. ???

This day 1986 was a fine fine day when the angels sang and showered down love, beauty and sheer wit unto me to grace all of you. My middle name is Grace for a reason, you know. Instead of birth announcements, my parents sent out a Public Service Announcement. They knew the world would have to be prepared for this.

But enough about me, let's talk about gifts (for me). I want more followers. Mr Incredible has proven to be useless in that area. You people are the next best thing to his commitment and undying faithfulness. More followers, please.

But enough about me round two. Let me give YOU more awesomeness:

Frickin how much do you love these prints?! I died when I first laid eyes on Horatia. Go check out Kirby's shop and tell me your favorite piece of art. She's offering any one of her 4x6 prints to one of you lucky readers! asd;lfk!

Leave a comment to enter. Winner will be announced Thursday!

Nothing better to talk about on earth day than the birds and the bees

2010-04-22T13:39:00.000-04:00

Of course I wouldn't talk about the birds and the bees. I don't have sex.

Anygetiton, have you noticed a crazy abundance of girls in the world lately? I mean, rarely do I see mothers with boys, it's most always little girls. I'm one of those families, too. Have we established that I have three kids? Three girls.

So anyway, Mr Incredible is always like, oh me oh my I have no y's. I'm always like, oh relax, wouldya? God told me he won't give you a boy until you learn to open doors for me and treat ladies like ladies.

So even though he loveloveloves his little ladies, I told him after number three was born that he should get a dog. Someone. Anyone to play fetch with him (although he's hell bent on them all playing softball *coughbutch*.) After a little bit of talking, we (he) decided that for more than one reasons, we're not going to get a dog right now. So I'm getting him a boomerang.

Anyway. My point: Mr Incredible was in the Army for four years doing somethingsomething somsortoftask that involved radiation. Turns out, the guys that work with this radiation stuff HAVE NO Y'S.

I've always wanted nine kids since I was little. But THAT might be too much estrogen. and shoes.

Thank God girls clothes are cuter than boys clothes. And there are more girl names than boy names to choose from. (or make up. whatever you fancy)

Giveaway winner!

2010-04-22T13:14:00.000-04:00

Congratulation Salt! from Salt Says! you've won yourself the Little Tiara artwork giveaway! Email me you shtuff so I can pass it on to Little Tiara.

Thanks for playing!

If I were the type of person who remained speechless at shocking times, i'd be speechless. absolutely.

2010-04-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

I'm probably 10 months behind on this post. A while ago (oh, say 10 months ago) I heard of Pajama Jeans (PJ, k? you don't expect me to keep typing 'pajama jeans,' do you? That's like a tongue twister for my wrists) and I was a little depressed. Kinda like, okay I know the Snuggie made it big, but that was a long stretch and they're going out faster than you can say 'Snuggies for kids and dogs.' But you, PJ? You're not going to make it big. Maybe in a van down by the river. But the only thing big about that is the super sized meals four times a day.

Today I reheard of the PJs and became increasingly sad. Why? Because I received a catalog (look it up if you're less than twenty years old) in the mail today for Mother's Day that had PJ all over it. Damn scammers! They are trying to convince mY HUSBAND that it is okay for ME to wear jeans during the day then while you sleep, then THEN pajamas at night then when you wake up all day. They're trying to get him to buy it!

Let's be clear. There are those days that I bum around the house all day and wear my pajamas until it's time to go to bed again. Those are the days that I apologize profusely to Mr Incredible for being an embarrassing contributor to society and his family and promise myself that I will never forgive myself if he needs to go on prozac at some point in time. All because I wore my pajamas too long. That happens about once a week and Mr Incredible doesn't even notice.

Then there are the nights where I drink one bottle too many of wine and coincidentally fall asleep in my jeans, just to wake up the next morning to get on another pair of jeans. This is not okay either, but hey. it happens.

All of this being said, I'm starting to like the concept. joke. JOKE. relax.

Do they come in skinny jeans?

I ate too much again ANNNND Little Tiara Giveaway!

2010-04-16T08:35:00.001-04:00

Ohhh shoot I was on such a (two day) roll for blogging everyday. But then, ya know, life happened yesterday and I spent the day shoving my face instead of doing anything else. It was Thursday, you know. And you know what happens on Thursdays. Binge Thursday. Don't think this is a special occasion or anything. Without fail, this happens every. single. Thursday. I just assume you don't want to read about my indignities every Thursday and then my complaints every Friday because I get THE WORST. food hangovers. All kidding aside. This morning consisted of lots of coffee and Tylenol. All because of that damned Sara Lee *light* pound cake and brownie batter out of the box mixed with water to eliminate my chances of saminola and added fat from oil. I won't list the other foods because a) you don't care b) the ones listed are the ones that put me over the edge.

Shoot. This is supposed to be the post about the giveaway. I really need to start seperating my thoughts into different posts.

Onto the giveaway. So. Little Tiara and I have been reading (and commenting) on each other's blogs since I began blogging. Yay. We go back. She is offering your choice of any of her posted artwork either as a notebook (sweet) or notecards (maybe that would help me with my correspondence issues). Awesome! Click on this link and tell me your favorite piece of her work! Winner's choice! Then if you feel so inclined, you should click on this link and read her blog. She's romantic and girly and all the stuff that I could be if I didn't binge every Thursday.

Winner will be announced next Thursday at Some point in time EST. Good luck!

Narcissism. And don't walk alone on bike paths.

2010-04-14T15:41:00.000-04:00

I've said it once and I'll say it again: Thank God for Wordless Wednesdays. I started writing about Altemio Sanchez, Buffalo's notorious bike path rapist of 26 years who was finally caught a few years ago and is sharing a cozy ol' time now with his cellmates called Bubba uno and Bubba dos, but then I realized there was no good way to blog about him. Although I do have to say that I'm not mad or scared, I'm so so sad for him. I know, my emotions are twisted in that sort of way. I told my dad that I was so sad for Altemio and he looked at me and asked if I was equally as sad for his victims and their families (he was a killer, too). silence. I've already spent too much money on therapy (that's a lie.). WHOA rein myself back in. My point of wanting to start writing at him is, ladies, even though he's in jail and everyone thinks that they're in the clear, you're not. Don't go on bike paths in woods by yourselves, please? Thanks.

So onto WW. You know the only reason I'm putting this is to make up for my lack of smarts from yesterday.

In simpler words, I look glamorous throwing my bonneted baby up in the air whilst wearing pearls and sunglasses. This was 3 years ago. What this picture doesn't tell you is that you could not see the floor in our apartment, and since laundry overwhelmed me too much I would just make underwear and undershirt runs to Target.

True stories.

Happy Wednesday! Oh, and don't forget to check in tomorrow because here goes another giveaway! (I'm easily persuaded)

I'm a self proclaimed martyr

2010-04-13T19:56:00.003-04:00

Today was the kind of day that feels like I was stuck in sludge. Woke up tired, drank coffee, brought clan to baby's checkup appointment, went to my mom's to play, came home to play, ate hotdog, ate hotdog again, had unsuccessful naps, self consciously yelled, decided I needed to get my shit together. Again. And what better way to do that than to walk to the grocery store with all three kids? None.

Imagine: Me wearing dangley earrings (not relevant, just adding to the absurdity), skinny jeans, Gap zebra flats and the Moby wrap with (overtired) baby in it. While pushing the double stroller with three year old in back and two year old in front. Get it? Good. Now imagine me pushing the said 100 extra pounds uphill there and back with the wind against me. On two major roads, crossing streets, major parking lots. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. But by golly, kids, we'll have fun.

We get to Wegmans and I realize that I can't really buy that much stuff because a) I can't push a stroller and cart at the same time b) I'll have to carry it all home. With 100 pounds of kids, uphill, wind against me. And skinny jeans.

So I buy the regular basics (yogurt, produce, pasta). I put the heavier (oldest) kid in front to weigh down the groceries that were going to be hanging off the handles in the back (with me?) so I could put the two year old in the Moby and lay baby down in the second stroller seat so she could sleep. Hope you read that slowly. Smart thinking! Now the stroller won't tip over backwards!

I'm walking walking through this large large VERY large parking lot all the while getting crazy stares from people in cars. But I held my head up high like you, Mrs Duggar. Baby is crying because she's so sleepy. Blisters are forming on my feet and two year old says she wants to get down and walk. So I ask three year old (in front seat. Don't you remember that? gee whilickers) if she wants to go in the Moby. She says yes. Baby just fell asleep. Three year old hops out of the stroller so I can tuck her away like a baby kangaroo. And oh shit i forgot that the groceries are still hanging on the back of the stroller with the baby in the second seat sleeping and not buckled in. And on this very busy intersection the stroller tips backwards, baby wakes up, I'm afraid she has brain trauma (she doesn't, the groceries saved her little head). I put crying baby in Moby and the other two walked the rest of the way home with me. And I let them put candy in their yogurt for dinner.

Would I do this again? Of course! It was so much fun. Of course I wouldn't wear skinny jeans and would buckle baby in next time, but other than that, YES! I would. Because let's be honest. Who doesn't like to play the martyr card?

Technicalities

2010-04-12T21:12:00.000-04:00

Here's the dealyo. I have more giveaways lined up! Yay yay yes yes yes.

However: I think I want to wait til I have 100 followers. yes? no? Tell me your thoughts.

Another question: for those of you who've done giveaways, where do you get a button on the blog to click on to link back to the giveaway? I feel like a constant terrible nag having to remind everyone to enter in every post.

Edumucate me.

It's the weather, i'm sure

2010-04-10T21:05:00.000-04:00

What have you been up to lately? Wait wait, don't tell me. I'll go read your blogs that I haven't read in 2-3 WEEKS.

I've not noticed until now that these past two to three weeks have been bad. 1) no blog. 2) no p90x (THAT might be for a different post) 3) eat. eat. eat. eat. eat. 4) minimal exercise.

These are the things I care about people. Being fat and virtual people. I think a screw's loose.

I have noticed, however, that I am not nice when I don't blog. So you might be hearing from me a little more.

I have more giveaways, but somehow in some virtual way the last two (even though I LOVED doing it) completely exhausted me. I don't know why/how. Stay tuned.

via

I think I need a nap.

giveaway winner!

2010-04-08T21:08:00.002-04:00

Congratulations #12! Anonymous drobst {at} roadrunner {dot} com!

Thanks for playing, and thank you nikkiscloud9!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-04-07T20:11:00.001-04:00

Thank my lucky stars for wordless wednesday. Because we all know that I don't have much else to say this week. I don't even really have a good picture. Oh well.

like mother like daughter.

oh and don't forget last day to enter!

If you don't think this is disturbing, then you're disturbed.

2010-04-05T12:12:00.000-04:00

Couldn't they just keep her innocent for a while longer?

Shiloh says that she wants to be an actress like mummy and daddy when she grows up. So mummy and daddy are going to put her in acting lessons. asdl;fajs

she's three you sicko parents.

I wanted to be a zookeeper when I was three and my three year old wants to be a good reader when she grows up.

So it's high time we look at pretty (handsome?) little Shiloh and lament. Because Shiloh's mummy wanted her to be a boy gd, shiloh why can't you do anything right?!

St. Michael protect me from the voodoo that Angelina is about to cast on me.

Weekly Giveaway!

2010-04-01T15:02:00.000-04:00

I'm excited to annouce this week's giveaway by Nikkiscloud9. Isn't the tote adorable? Hand stenciled! I'm not sure if you're aware, but I LOVE red, LOVE elephants and LOVE totes. How tote-ally awesome is this?!?!?!

For a chance to win, head on over to Nikki's shop and tell me what your favorite item is. I'll announce a winner (using random.org) next Thursday (the 8th).

Good luck!