Christmas was great at our house. Conman got everything he put on his list to Santa Claus (and then some), I got a replacement wedding ring for the one I lost, and DH got a new video game for the computer, and that was just here at our house. At mom and dad's it was clothing central, and we all got stuff we can use.
For a little more about what I got in particular at mom and dad's...
My mother apparently believes that I'm a sixty-year-old living in a thirty-two-year-0ld body. Never mind the fact that I am forever struggling to stay "hip" and "with it" (are those the correct terms? I'm not sure any more...) so that I won't be a complete embarrassment to my son when he gets older. Mom insists on prematurely aging me. Let's give a rundown of the clothes she bought me for Christmas this year:
1. Sweater with appliqué. I don't remember exactly what color it was, or exactly what the appliqué was either, but suffice it to say that if I were doing my own shopping, I wouldn't be wandering to the rack that holds this beauty.
2. Sweater with "Aspen" or "Nordic" motif. I know that mom did not actually go to either of the places that are appropriate to buy a sweater like this (namely Aspen or any part of the world that would legitimately carry the word "Nordic" it its description) so she bought it off the rack in a department store. It's red with some sort of skiing or snow-play black and white motif around the collar. Yet another rack I would most likely avoid like the plague.
3. Thin sweater with built-in tank top dickie and black, fake, seed pearls. My schedule doesn't include a visit to the Whispering Pines Retirement Home Christmas Formal Hoe-Down, so I doubt I have anywhere to wear this gem. Waaaaay too overdone to wear casually with jeans, and of a black tone that goes with none of my black slack or skirts that I would wear on a slightly dressier occasion. Mom's solution? "That would look fantastic with a pair of khaki slacks!" Okay. I'll get right on that.
4. Plain purple sweater exactly like the one she bought last year. Okay, in all likelihood, this is the one I'm most apt to wear. It's plain. It's got cable-knitting. It's purple. Sounds great, right? Well...let's back up for just a second. I'm a natural blond, and I have the pasty-white skin to prove it. Pastels are, by and large, NOT by best colors. "Washed out" is an understatement; in this case, it's more like "bleached bone white".
That's not to say that I'm not appreciative. I mean, at least she tried, right? You'd think in thirty-two years of knowing me that she would at least have some inkling of the styles and colors that appeal to me. I don't think she's ever paid that much attention, though, and it's even worse since Conman came along. Oh well, 'least I'll be warm this winter, even if I look like something out of American Graffiti gone terribly awry.
Thank goodness for the gift I bought myself - a FlyFusion pentop computer. I asked for this, she had NO idea what I was talking about, so I bought it for myself and she paid me back. Perhaps in another post I'll relate to you the story of the pen, and how it is filled to the brim with win.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Christmas Shopping and an Anecdote
For today's entry, I thought I'd give you a couple of nuggets to chew on for the holiday season. I probably won't be posting again until after Christmas (unless something really fantastic happens and I feel you simply must know about it NOW).
Anyway, I was all prepared to rant and rave about Christmas shopping, crowded stores, horrible traffic and how awful people can be during the holiday season, especially the last weekend before Christmas.
Quite simply, I can't. Let me explain.
First, traffic wasn't that bad; I've seen it much worse in the shopping centers that I frequent. Sales were good, people were surprisingly cheerful and even helpful. I couldn't believe it myself; I gave information to a lady and she not only said "thank you", but said, "Oh, honey, thank you so much, you just helped to make my baby's first Christmas!" because of the information I gave her. Someone actually backed their vehicle up so I could take a prime parking spot instead of taking it for themselves. People said "excuse me" and "I'm sorry" and "thank you".
It's surprising that I find things like that amazing, and quite frankly, the world ought not work that way. We should all be kind and polite to each other no matter what the season, but I like that it shines a little brighter during this of all seasons. Okay, sermon done.
And now for the anecdote.
It isn't snowing outside, and there isn't even a chance of a white Christmas around these parts this year, but that's okay; Chirstmas always brings back some memories of sledding and snowmen, cold feet and hot chocolate, wrapping and then later unwrapping presents. This happens to be a sledding anecdote (which happened either in late junior high or early high school); I may have another "wintery" anecdote for you after Christmas.
I have always lived in this little community in West Virginia, and my parents lived on a hill (which isn't entirely uncommon around here). Their driveway is asphalt, and when about six inches of snow falls, it's not entirely difficult to compact that six inches down to a nice, 2-inch thick sheet of ice. Makes for some fan-tas-tic sledding.
Generally, we rode down the hill on four-foot long sheets of mine belt. Picture heavy, 1/2 inch thick black rubber with a sheet of fiberglass fabric in the center, and you've pretty much got the idea. However, there was one wooden sled with steel runners that you could steer, and everyone who lived near me waited anxiously for their turn on the wood sled.
When my turn rolled around on this particular day, I had a great idea. I would ask my friend "Roundman" to ride down the sled with me. Now, before we go any further, I have to explain our track to you. Like I said, the driveway was asphalt; it curved slightly to the left, and at the bottom you had two choices. You could either hope to cross the bridge and end up either in the creek or out in the road (depending on whether or not you hit the bridge) or you could cut a little harder left and go over the 2-foot high bank and into the neighbor's yard. This feat isn't difficult to accomplish, and most of the time you could make the turn and come to a gentle stop there in the neighbor's yard.
Now, I told you that so I could tell you this - Roundman and I were going to go down the hill together on the fastest sled known to man, on a 2-inch thick sheet of ice over asphalt. As his nickname may indicate, Roundman is NOT a small fella; our combined weight on the sled was approximately 300 pounds. He laid down on his stomach on the sled, and I laid down on his back, also on my stomach.
The moment came, and Roundman pushed off. It wasn't long before we were going approximately Mach 2 down the hill; I could feel Roundman struggling to keep control of the sled under me. We managed to make it down the hill, and make the turn into the neighbor's yard, and skidded to a halt out in the middle of his yard.
I hopped up off his back and walked a little way away from him, not turning to look at him, and said, "Oh, wow, man, we have got to do that again!" I could hear our friends chuckling around us, and I turned around and looked at Roundman. He was plucking a combination of grass, dirt and snow out of the top of his overalls-style snowsuit. The sled was about eight feet behind us, the front of the runners buried into the ground all the way to the piece of wood you use to steer the contraption.
Yep. We'd sledded for about eight feet on Roundman. He looked at me, his perpetual grin on his face, and said, "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I wanna go again."
Merry Christmas, everybody. Be safe, be joyful, and show your love.
Anyway, I was all prepared to rant and rave about Christmas shopping, crowded stores, horrible traffic and how awful people can be during the holiday season, especially the last weekend before Christmas.
Quite simply, I can't. Let me explain.
First, traffic wasn't that bad; I've seen it much worse in the shopping centers that I frequent. Sales were good, people were surprisingly cheerful and even helpful. I couldn't believe it myself; I gave information to a lady and she not only said "thank you", but said, "Oh, honey, thank you so much, you just helped to make my baby's first Christmas!" because of the information I gave her. Someone actually backed their vehicle up so I could take a prime parking spot instead of taking it for themselves. People said "excuse me" and "I'm sorry" and "thank you".
It's surprising that I find things like that amazing, and quite frankly, the world ought not work that way. We should all be kind and polite to each other no matter what the season, but I like that it shines a little brighter during this of all seasons. Okay, sermon done.
And now for the anecdote.
It isn't snowing outside, and there isn't even a chance of a white Christmas around these parts this year, but that's okay; Chirstmas always brings back some memories of sledding and snowmen, cold feet and hot chocolate, wrapping and then later unwrapping presents. This happens to be a sledding anecdote (which happened either in late junior high or early high school); I may have another "wintery" anecdote for you after Christmas.
I have always lived in this little community in West Virginia, and my parents lived on a hill (which isn't entirely uncommon around here). Their driveway is asphalt, and when about six inches of snow falls, it's not entirely difficult to compact that six inches down to a nice, 2-inch thick sheet of ice. Makes for some fan-tas-tic sledding.
Generally, we rode down the hill on four-foot long sheets of mine belt. Picture heavy, 1/2 inch thick black rubber with a sheet of fiberglass fabric in the center, and you've pretty much got the idea. However, there was one wooden sled with steel runners that you could steer, and everyone who lived near me waited anxiously for their turn on the wood sled.
When my turn rolled around on this particular day, I had a great idea. I would ask my friend "Roundman" to ride down the sled with me. Now, before we go any further, I have to explain our track to you. Like I said, the driveway was asphalt; it curved slightly to the left, and at the bottom you had two choices. You could either hope to cross the bridge and end up either in the creek or out in the road (depending on whether or not you hit the bridge) or you could cut a little harder left and go over the 2-foot high bank and into the neighbor's yard. This feat isn't difficult to accomplish, and most of the time you could make the turn and come to a gentle stop there in the neighbor's yard.
Now, I told you that so I could tell you this - Roundman and I were going to go down the hill together on the fastest sled known to man, on a 2-inch thick sheet of ice over asphalt. As his nickname may indicate, Roundman is NOT a small fella; our combined weight on the sled was approximately 300 pounds. He laid down on his stomach on the sled, and I laid down on his back, also on my stomach.
The moment came, and Roundman pushed off. It wasn't long before we were going approximately Mach 2 down the hill; I could feel Roundman struggling to keep control of the sled under me. We managed to make it down the hill, and make the turn into the neighbor's yard, and skidded to a halt out in the middle of his yard.
I hopped up off his back and walked a little way away from him, not turning to look at him, and said, "Oh, wow, man, we have got to do that again!" I could hear our friends chuckling around us, and I turned around and looked at Roundman. He was plucking a combination of grass, dirt and snow out of the top of his overalls-style snowsuit. The sled was about eight feet behind us, the front of the runners buried into the ground all the way to the piece of wood you use to steer the contraption.
Yep. We'd sledded for about eight feet on Roundman. He looked at me, his perpetual grin on his face, and said, "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I wanna go again."
Merry Christmas, everybody. Be safe, be joyful, and show your love.
Friday, December 21, 2007
...And To Top Off the Day...
Yes, yes, I realize that this is now three posts in one day, but I'm here to tell you, this is just funny beyond belief to me. I can't exactly explain why, but I find more humor in this child's facial expression than I find in an entire year's worth of SNL:
moar funny pictures
moar funny pictures
I'm Just...Speechless...on THIS One.
For my first post of any substance, I give you this:
Jonny Glow
While I see the inherent value in this product, I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone would spend good, hard-earned money on something like this. Generally, there are certain habits in place that a couple gets into regarding "nocturnal emissions"; for example, in our household, the procedure goes something like this:
"Hey! Wanna see something cool? Come with me to the bathroom!"
(If you happen to be reading this out-loud, remember to add much vim and vigor to this little quotation)
Now, if that above hypothetical situation is something you've ever heard in your household, it's time to have a discussion with your child. Luckily, I haven't heard that with Conman...yet. But let's, for just a second, assume you've heard this and have no problem with it. With our little fly-on-the-wall hidden camera, let's follow said child and his compatriots to the bathroom. We watch as he or she closes the bathroom door and flips off the light. At this exact moment, we hear a collective, "Ooooooh!' emit from the gaggle of children who have accompanied your child into the facilities.
Now, imagine for a moment that you are the mother of one of said gaggle of children and you have stumbled upon a closed bathroom door and hear the collective sigh of disbelief from your child and a number of other children. What would be your first thought, and first reaction? I can assure you it wouldn't be "Oh, they're admiring the Smith's Jonny Glow again...". Rather, the door would fly open to horrific thoughts of a genital presentation going on behind a closed bathroom door.
Aside from this little scenario playing out, I'm willing to bet any child learning to hit the mark (in the case of a boy) is about a million times more likely to flip on the bathroom light when using "the potty" during the night than to rely on our dear friend Jonny Glow to light the way. Well, okay, I'll admit, maybe the first couple of times after installation, but then the new would wear off and the light would then again be popped on.
So there you have it - another piece of useless junk available on the internet if you're so inclined to needlessly illuminate your toilet. If for nothing else, buy it so you can say to your friends, "Hey, guys, come to the bathroom with me - I wanna show you something!"
Jonny Glow
While I see the inherent value in this product, I can't for the life of me figure out why anyone would spend good, hard-earned money on something like this. Generally, there are certain habits in place that a couple gets into regarding "nocturnal emissions"; for example, in our household, the procedure goes something like this:
- Wake up;
- Realize you need to pee;
- Check clock (because the time this happens is of utmost importance at say, 3:30AM);
- Gently exit bed;
- Slowly walk (and/or stumble) to bathroom;
- Shut door as quietly as possible;
- (Here's the important part) FLIP ON THE DAMN LIGHT;
- Evacuate as needed; and
- Return to bed.
"Hey! Wanna see something cool? Come with me to the bathroom!"
(If you happen to be reading this out-loud, remember to add much vim and vigor to this little quotation)
Now, if that above hypothetical situation is something you've ever heard in your household, it's time to have a discussion with your child. Luckily, I haven't heard that with Conman...yet. But let's, for just a second, assume you've heard this and have no problem with it. With our little fly-on-the-wall hidden camera, let's follow said child and his compatriots to the bathroom. We watch as he or she closes the bathroom door and flips off the light. At this exact moment, we hear a collective, "Ooooooh!' emit from the gaggle of children who have accompanied your child into the facilities.
Now, imagine for a moment that you are the mother of one of said gaggle of children and you have stumbled upon a closed bathroom door and hear the collective sigh of disbelief from your child and a number of other children. What would be your first thought, and first reaction? I can assure you it wouldn't be "Oh, they're admiring the Smith's Jonny Glow again...". Rather, the door would fly open to horrific thoughts of a genital presentation going on behind a closed bathroom door.
Aside from this little scenario playing out, I'm willing to bet any child learning to hit the mark (in the case of a boy) is about a million times more likely to flip on the bathroom light when using "the potty" during the night than to rely on our dear friend Jonny Glow to light the way. Well, okay, I'll admit, maybe the first couple of times after installation, but then the new would wear off and the light would then again be popped on.
So there you have it - another piece of useless junk available on the internet if you're so inclined to needlessly illuminate your toilet. If for nothing else, buy it so you can say to your friends, "Hey, guys, come to the bathroom with me - I wanna show you something!"
Howdy, Y'all!
First off, I should probably give you a little bit of information about myself and what I propose the purpose of this blog will be.
I plan on posting my observations about the world around me, in what I hope to be a humorous manner. I mean, hey, I find this stuff pretty funny, and I'm in the middle of it. Sure, some of it might be of the "Oh, man, it was hilarious (but you really just had to be there to get it)!!!" variety, but that's okay. I'll feel fulfilled if I'm able to at least convey it to you, and if you get some modicum of joy out of it.
The second thing I ought to do is introduce you to the cast of characters likely to turn up in these entries. I mean, it's only fair that you ought to know who the heck I'm talking about, so here's the rundown:
I plan on posting my observations about the world around me, in what I hope to be a humorous manner. I mean, hey, I find this stuff pretty funny, and I'm in the middle of it. Sure, some of it might be of the "Oh, man, it was hilarious (but you really just had to be there to get it)!!!" variety, but that's okay. I'll feel fulfilled if I'm able to at least convey it to you, and if you get some modicum of joy out of it.
The second thing I ought to do is introduce you to the cast of characters likely to turn up in these entries. I mean, it's only fair that you ought to know who the heck I'm talking about, so here's the rundown:
- DH: "Designated Husband". If you need more explanation than that, uhm....I really don't know what to say about that...it's my husband for goodness sake...
- Conman: My one and only child; at the time of this posting, he is 5 1/2 years old (the 1/2 is exceptionally important).
- Pup: The new dog we have living in our house, and a constant source of either humor or aggravation. You be the judge.
- SS1: My eldest stepson.
- SS2: My youngest stepson, who is now technically the DH's "middle child".
- Mom: My loving, caring, thoughtful and insightful mother. And if you believe that, I've got a piece of oceanfront property in Utah I'm just dying to unload.
- Dad: My loving, caring, thoughtful and insightful father. This one really is the truth.
- FIL: My father-in-law; mostly absent (as in, we don't see him very often) but a genuinely good fella.
- MIL: My mother-in-law; see FIL entry and substitude "gal" for "fella".
- SILs: My sisters-in-law; see FIL and apply MIL caveat.
- GL: This is my best "internet" buddy, and my guild leader. I talk to him nearly daily, and have done so for about a year and a half. We laugh, we cry, we yell at one another, but it's all good in the end.
- W/GL: This is GL's wife. I've met her once, and think she's a jewel of a woman.
- GL1: Oldest child of GL.
- GL2: Youngest child of GL.
- "Guildies": This is the general lump I will dump all my guild mates into at any given moment.
- BFF: This refers to the woman that's my best friend, the sister I never had.
- H/BFF: Husband of BFF.
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