Posts Tagged ‘humor’

I made sloppy joe’s for dinner last night, yes it’s a veritable cornucopia of gourmet treats at my house.  While browning the ground turkey, it occured to me that other people might not pound the crap out of their meat with a wooden spoon like I do to make sure there is not one bit larger than a pea and god forbid there be a ‘string’ left.  You know how the meat comes out of the grinder in long strings and if you don’t, well, pound the crap out of it with a wooden spoon, it will brown in those long strings and that just makes me want to gag.

So I started thinking about the fact that I’m kinda OCD about stuff, but they are very random, which keeps things interesting.  It’s like I have some distant relative of OCD who comes to visit my brain once in a while at completely unexpected times and yet, when he’s here, HE’S HERE TO STAY.

I’m completely compulsive about the pillows on my couch.  The hub unit will throw them on the couch in any order and while I applaud him for the effort, IT MAKES ME INSANE that they are not all straight and in a particular color order.  I don’t mind that they get used, but for goodness sake, PUT THE ZIPPER SIDE DOWN!

Actually I’m pretty compulsive about how my house looks in general, as it must be NEAT.  However, I really couldn’t give two figs about whether it is CLEAN.  So thank you to Cathy for sending me EVA, our saviour 🙂

Then there is the difference between hub & I.  This morning he made a big show of putting on his Santa Clarita Choppers t-shirt, which came with the Harley we brought home a few days ago.  We got one for the monkey as well and as hub was putting his on, I kept shaking my head NO NO, cause the little guys t-shirt was in the laundry.   OOPS.  Meltdown. 

Hub:  How dirty is it?

Me:  Well, he wore it all day, and then he slept in it.  He’s eaten in it and played at the park in it.  Since then, it’s been in the hamper, under other dirty clothes for two days.

Hub:  Only two days?  Kid come here, let’s put your SCC t-shirt on.

Different standards.  Made my hair stand on end, but the smile on monkey’s face helped me keep the bile down.  Of course, I can’t hug him, but whatever. 


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My big sister is here visiting from northern California.  She is this fabulously creative, supportive, nurturing, giving and incredible woman (who by the way, doesn’t see any of that in herself, sheesh, maybe we set the bar too high for ourselves??) and I love her unique perspective on the little things in this world.  The following conversation took place while we all sat at the dinner table watching a recording of the Discovery Channel show about the Endeavor Space Shuttle launch, which my three year old is completely fascinated with.  Yeah, he’s smarter than me, so what?

After watching all the astronauts get suited up and hearing a little personal history, including the list of degrees each of them have, my sister turned to me & the hub unit and said:

Sis:  ‘Jeez, these are really smart guys.  It makes you wonder if these are the kind of people we SHOULD be sending into space.  I mean, what if something happens again, like it did with Columbia?  All that knowledge and experience would be lost.’

A moment of silence.

Hub: ‘Weeeell, if not these really smart guys, who should we be sending up?’

Me:  ‘PERHAPS we should send up some guy named Earl.  After all, the inside of the space shuttle probably doesn’t look all that dissimilar to the inside of a double wide.  Actually, if you could just make the controls look like a TV remote, we might have a shot . . . ‘

Let’s take a vote.  Really smart astronaut guys or Earl?? 

Just a glimpse into the profound thinktank that is my house, where we delve into the pressing problems of the day and come up with viable solutions. 

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I used to think I was a patient person.  Actually, if I’m being honest with myself, perhaps patient isn’t the correct word.  I was, um, easygoing.  And possibly just easy, but that is definitely another post.

Being an older mom, I really started out feeling like I had patience in spades.  After all, we waited so long and went thru so much on our infertility, hysterectomy, adoption journey just to bring the kid home – why would I ever YELL at him????

Then he started wanting to do things for himself.  Freakish. 

Do you know how long it takes a three year old to brush his teeth?  WELL, let’s see.  He must walk to the bathroom, climb up on the stool, climb down from the stool, open the drawer, take out the toothbrush, close the drawer, climb back up on the stool, climb back down from the stool, open the drawer, take out the toothpaste, close the drawer, climb back up on the stool, put down the toothbrush, turn on the water, open the toothpaste, squeeze the toothpaste onto the toothbrush, close the toothpaste, tip over the toothbrush and smear the toothpaste all over the counter and the clean shirt I put on him only one minute ago before he walked to the bathroom, cry, cry, yell at me for trying to help, say ‘I do it,’ open the toothpaste, squeeze more toothpaste onto the toothbrush, close the toothpaste, set down the toothpaste, pick up the toothbrush, put the toothbrush in his mouth, swallow the toothpaste without it ever having touched a tooth, move the toothbrush back and forth three times before saying ‘I all done, mama,’ point to his teeth and say ‘white teeths,’ climb down from the stool, open the drawer, put in toothbrush and toothpaste, close the drawer and leave the bathroom.

Perhaps this is why I may need a few more sessions with his holiness, the Dali Lama. 

But hey, things are looking up.  I read today that the Catholic church is going to allow confessions via the INTERNET.  Talk about a blog I wanna read . . .   That would be a real timesaver if I were Catholic.

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Country of Origin:  Whoville

Short for:  Oompaloompaoopherectomy

Definition:  The removal of certain lady parts from a ladywho’s you know.  As in Lindaloohoo’s who-ha.

I was speaking with a friend the other day who may be faced with having a hysterectomy.  Part of her surgery will include an OOPHERECTOMY which is just the coolest word and I enjoy saying it, spelling it, seeing it in print and evidently, making up stuff about it.  Basically it means that they will be yanking the ovaries along with the uterus. 

I have had the pleasure of all of the above and I’m here to tell ya, not so much fun.  But survivable and in the end, was the best decision I could have made.  Much, much healthier for it, along with the added bonus of being able to bypass that pesky feminine products aisle at the store.  Nope, don’t need nuthin’ from down that aisle.  Let’s go see if they’ve restocked bath rugs . . .

When I was prepping my mind before my surgery by ingesting every word ever written on the subject, I was lucky enough to stumble across a great website, one which I highly recommend to any other ladies (men if you care at all about what your woman is going thru, you should check it out too, so you’ll know what to expect and when to duck) who may be facing this life changing step.  It’s hystersisters.com and it’s chock full of wonderful information, stories and advice.  I personally learned how to sum up my situation in one sentence when people asked- ‘Look, they’re taking the crib, but leaving the playpen.’  Any more questions?

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It was a really bad day for my marriage when our three year old stopped taking naps, since the hub and I always enjoyed our own afternoon playdate (sly boots wink) while he slept.  Or at least we had the OPTION to enjoy it.  Now our only options are early, early and I repeat, early in the morning, which has never been my best sexy kitten time.  Or late.  And by late, I mean past 8 pm after which the hub staying awake becomes dicey, but which is when the little guy goes to bed perchance to sleep, perchance NOT.   He is still awake in his bed as I write this at 10 pm, while my husband is peacefully snoring in our bed, see earlier post ‘fluffy review’ for the medical explanation for snoring.  And if monkey is still awake by the time hub & I miraculously do manage to both be awake and in our room at the same time, I’m terrified he’s going to tiptoe in and startle us by asking ‘What doin’ mama??’ complete with hand gestures and quizzical look on his face.  This also does not lend itself to sexy kitten behaviour.

So I had to enroll the kid in a class during the week just to get some alone time.  We have about a one hour window, so I figure we can clean the house with the other 55 minutes.  This morning hub unit dropped kid off with the understanding that he would return to our house forthwith where I would be waiting for him.  Waiting.  For.  Him.  Meow.

I miscalcuated.  Now, I’ve never been one to worry about other women.  Sure that 19 year old may LOOK hot, but eventually she will have to speak, which, thankfully, would result in my man losing immediate interest.  When I start to notice him spending time with a young, attractive mute I may need to pay attention.

Nope, the mistake I made was to not scout the businesses surrounding said school.  My bad.  While the candles burned down to puddles and the Showtime after dark special languished on hold, I sat alone drumming my fingers.   Should I just go ahead and clean the house?  Nah.  I’M GONNA CALL HIM.  So I did.  And ya know what?  Turns out there’s a little place called SANTA CLARITA CHOPPERS right across the street from the school.  Perhaps there should be a law about that, requiring all motorcycle shops to be registered with the WOA (wives of america) and housed at least a mile from any type of family establishment where husbands might be distracted by something shiny.  Put them in an orange light district to at least give us a little warning.  

Seems the other woman is a 2002 Harley Davidson Softail, with 10,000 miles.  Yeah, she’s used.  Yeah, she needs some work.  Yeah, he’s gonna spend money on her.  And he’s taking me to meet her tomorrow morning. 

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I thought I’d start today with a list of the things I’m grateful for in my life 🙂

10.  Not being born during pioneer days.  No really, this is a big one.  I don’t think I’d have done well without contact lenses, automobiles, shopping at Steinmart, indoor plumbing and microwave Lean Cuisine.  Although, the full skirted fashions had their advantages in hiding the booty . . .

9.  Having reached my peace with my father before he passed away from lung cancer.  I was able to be there to help take care of him and share valuable time with him and my brothers & sisters.

8.  The hard, dark, bouncing off the walls, deep in the pit of dispair times I’ve had in my life, which helped me become the person I am today, she who is able to appreciate all the wonderful things in life. 

7.   The smell of the bath rug aisle in the Wal Mart.  You know, the matchy matchy ones with the rubber backing.  There is just something about that smell that makes my mouth water and I feel all oogy inside . .  in a good way.  DON’T ASK.

6.  The opportunity to work at a job which I truly loved, with friends I treasured.  It was a blessing afforded me by people who had faith in me and whose opinion I valued highly.  I am grateful every day for knowing the joy of being successful at something which was challenging and rewarding beyond my wildest dreams.  Thank you Universal Music Group.

5.  Beauty around me.  I have always had trouble with my eyesight and I fear that some day it will not be good enough to enjoy the beauty around me.  Whether it is the way my older son’s blue eyes look when he smiles, or the way my younger son’s tongue reaches out like a windshield wiper around his mouth to get that last bit of melted chocolate, or the way my husband’s hand looks on my stomach when he sneaks up behind me and grabs me to sway to music while we’re cooking dinner.  Or it’s the way the white clouds look passing thru a particularly blue sky overhead, seen thru the leaves of a tree with pink flowers.  So many simple, beautiful things surround us every day, every minute and they give me amazing energy.

4.  The feeling of sitting in a bubble bath on a warm summer afternoon, with the window open, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains and the sound of kids playing somewhere in the neighborhood.  That along with a great book, time to enjoy it and a cold can of COKE gently fizzing next to my head. 

3.  The three year old who is sitting in the living room playing with his space shuttle (the LITTLE one mama, not the big one), after eating his eggs and strawberries, because that’s what he woke up asking for. 

2.  The 24 year old son who called me Mom for the first time 3 years ago.  Wow. 

1.  The husband who saw all the potential in me that I never saw in myself and coaxed it into bloom.  I love you, Hub Unit.  

I hope everyone has a wonderful, relaxing, or energetic if that’s what you prefer, weekend 🙂

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So me and the Hub took our little guy out for ice cream the other day (pre tacos, pre stomach flu, yech). 

I watched the chocolate fudge ice cream melting off the cone he was holding, seeing it smeared all over his hands and his sweet little face, and I couldn’t help but think of the following story.

On the east coast, ice cream is a really big deal.  There are many little ice cream stands that are only open during the ‘season’ which is usually Memorial Day thru Labor Day.  So when it’s available, people go in droves, daily.

Now on this particular day last year, I happened to be at our local ice cream stand in upstate New York with several parents and their children.  It was a warm day and we were all feeling mellow and enjoying the sun and the sound of the kids playing in the field, watching the airplanes taking off from the airport right next to the big open field behind the stand.  I watched as one dad came over to help his young daughter with her dripping ice cream cone.  He smiled and asked her if her cone needed a maintenance lick.  She said yes and he proceeded to lick off all the drips before handing it back to her.  I had never heard that expression before, but thought it was so cute and clever.  That’s what we as parents do for our kids all the time, right?  We clean up the drips on their ice cream cones, we spit polish the dirt from their face, we brush the dust from their clothes, etc.  What a sweet little family moment.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting next to one of my friends, who shall remain nameless but her picture is sitting on my bedside table, (ha) and relaying this warm, touching moment.  My friend has three young sons and is possibly the funniest woman I know.  She listened to me tell this story and then stopped and gave me a long stare.  I’m all ‘WHAT?’ And this is what she said:

‘You know Linda, when I hear the term ‘maintenance lick’ it really brings something completely different to mind.’  Suddenly it clicked – OMG that is soooo funny.  We both started giggling.  Then we were laughing so hard I realized the bladder tuck I got as an added little bonus to my hysterectomy, miiight need a refresher. 

Blushing bright red, she continued:  ‘Here is what I think of some poor woman saying:  Ya know honey, I realize it’s been seven years, but I could really use a MAINTENANCE LICK!’ 

Yeah, it gets me right there too, every time I think of it 🙂

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