Pinky's Up

What am I, the Queen of England?!

*Canister in kitchen, chock full of tea bags, not shown



I cleaned out some cabinets last night preparing for our yard sale today. Apparently, the hubby and I are hoarding tea.

Overheard at Golden Corral

My lovely sister, who I don't get to see nearly enough, graced us with her presence for a few days this past week. She lives out in the boonies of Virginia. No point in telling you exactly where because I assure you, you've never heard of it.

Every time she is in town we end up eating at Golden Corral. This is because my grandfather will only come along if we agree to go there. I don't think anyone else especially enjoys the dining out experience it provides. It's basically over-priced cafeteria food and other than the mashed potatoes and macaroni, the food is pretty bland. And lets face it, how hard is it to screw up those two?  If it weren't for the all you can eat ice cream, I think I'd have a pretty hard time getting the hubby to agree to going. As it is, he likes to refer to it as "The Trough." ha!

Anyway, on to the point of this post. Other than the ice cream, the only saving grace GC has is the entertainment the patrons tend to provide. My sister was busy filling her plate full of starches when she overheard the following conversation:

Classy Woman #1: Oooh, girl! Here go da broccoli and brussel sprouts. Gonna get you sum?
Classy Woman #2: I ain't gettin no brussel sprouts!
Classy Woman #1: Why? They good fo you!
Classy Woman #2: Cause when I gots brussel sprouts in my mouth it taste like someone pooted in der!

Man, I can't wait to go back!

All In Good Fun

First, a little background. I grew up in and out of the Mormon church. When I was in high school and most likely junior high as well, I pretty much thought I was in love with every missionary that passed through our ward. I always looked forward to the one day a month when they came over for dinner. Well, actually we had to take them out to dinner because they weren't allowed in our home (re: no men lived there). We usually took them to Pizza Hut and then out for an ice cream because Dairy Queen was right next door. I remember having a pizza eating contest with Elder Mulder when I was 15 or 16. The scales were tipped in my favor because he had to eat two for every one of my slices. I don't recall how many slices each of us had, but we ended up "tied" by the time the pizza boxes were empty. Knowing neither of us would be satisfied with a tie, my Mom decided that whoever could eat their ice cream cone the fastest would win. You guys, I like to win. As soon as she said "GO" I shoved that entire vanilla ice cream cone down my throat. I am not even kidding. I'm sure you can guess that I had a serious ice cream headache after that, but it was totally worth it.

 Anyway, we also used to beep and wave any time we saw them bicycling around town. We tried to keep the cat calls and whistling to a minimum, of course. The funny thing is, I actually still do that to this day. Even when the hubby is driving, I will reach over him and beep to get their attention and I frantically wave at them like a little kid. They usually look at me like I'm a weirdo, but they always wave back!

Well, that was a lot more background than you bargained for, but here's the conversation I was getting at:

Me: Remember when we used to beep at the Missionaries?!

Mom: Yes!

Me: I totally still do that!

Mom: That doesn't surprise me.

Kerri: I should do that! I see them all the time because they live in my apartment complex!

Me: Ohhh, you should flash them instead!

Kerri: No way!

Me: Yes! They would totally fall off their bikes.

Kerri: They would burst into flames!

Mom: No, YOU would bust into flames!

Me: (after the laughter dies down) We're all going straight to hell...

Just Sayin'

I don't care how many servings of fruit and vegetables it has or how good it may taste, this stuff smells like cat pee.

Singulair/ Cingular

This was too funny not to share! Recent email conversation with my Mom:


Me: $40 for freaking one month of Singulair!


Mom: Yeah, but they have their problems, too.


Me: What?


Mom: Area coverage and dropping calls.


Me: What are you talking about?!


Mom: What are you talking about?!


Me: Haeden’s prescription. Singulair!


Mom: OMG- I need to go see somebody

I'm an Angel

No, really! It's true. I recently became a Chemo Card Angel, and I think you should, too. I don't know a single person whose life hasn't been touched by cancer. Chemo Angels is a program dedicated to supporting people with cancer by matching them with their very own "Angel". As an Angel you are asked to send little notes, cards and sometimes a small gift on a weekly basis. I try to send a little something to my own twice a week.  It doesn't take much time or money and yet it brings a lot of joy to a lot of people who are otherwise going through a very difficult time in their lives.

The hardest part for me has just been trying to figure out what to write. I don't lead the most exciting life and most of my days can sort of be summed up into one little acronym... SSDD (same shit, different day)! ha! And so, I usually end up talking about Haeden. I told my patient that it was either that or work, and I figure Haeden is a lot more interesting!

If that wasn't convincing enough, read on. Here are a couple of patient testimonies:

"My son was signed up with your program until he died. I wanted to let you know that your organization was the best thing for my son. If you could have seen his eyes light up when he received things in the mail! You really lit up his life and I wanted to thank you myself. Thank you for all your organization did for him."


" I love my Chemo Angel! I believe she has to be a true Angel. She ALWAYS knows exactly when I need some cheering up! I don't know where you found her, but I want you to know I love her!"
 
If you think you have what it takes to become a Chemo Angel... sign up here!

Time to be Creative

Before Haeden was born I had plenty of time. Time to cook, time to clean, time to learn something new, to craft, to knit, whatever my heart desired. Of course, at that point in my life, I didn't really have any interest in those things! I was quite content to lay around the house watching TV every evening or stay in bed until 10am on the weekends.

Now that I have a 10 month-old gobbling up all of my time like an afternoon snack, I find myself constantly looking for more to do. I really don't know why that is since the only actual free time that I have any more is the hour and a half between Haeden's bedtime and my own. And yes, I have a bedtime. It's 10pm and it is quite imperative that I am in a deep sleep before 11pm. It's better for all of us that way. Trust me.

So, basically I have roughly an hour each night to relax with my Hubby, and instead I'm running around trying to cut and glue silhouettes of Haeden's perfect little profile, teach myself how to knit (that one isn't going so well), and make DIY greeting cards, invitations, etc. And since that isn't enough, I am going to learn to sew because I want to make Haeden's 1st birthday t-shirt and, of course, a multitude of other things!

I keep asking myself where this is all coming from. I know that part of the answer is just that I want to have a creative outlet. Or, in truth, I just want to BE creative. Sometimes I really feel that I am just fighting against the tide. I do believe that I'm more "left brained", meaning that I'm more logical in my thinking. I am not the type of person who generally comes up with new ideas. Hell, I have a hard time deviating from recipes!

I think creativity is a way of being. Maybe even a process. I hope that if I open myself up to it and also to the possibility of actually failing, it might become easier. More natural. It just might be that I am concentrating too hard on being creative. And where is the imagination in that?


*Edited to add: I realize that I started out talking about one thing and ended up on a different topic, but someone very wise recently told me that it's a blog, and it's my blog. I should write what I want because I'm not being graded! (Whew!)