Sunday, February 28, 2010
DO NOT DO THIS if said body wash includes microbeads.
Microbeads do not like soap dispensers. Microbeads clog up soap dispensers.
Just in case you are like me and have idiot moments, let me save you on this one. Donate the microbead body washes to a shelter. Do not try to be frugal and use it in your dispenser. If you must be frugal, leave it in the Dove bottle and set the bottle next to the sink and use it directly from the bottle.
This has been a service message from itiots-r-us to save idiots from ruining their soap dispensers.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Really, get over yourselves and grow up.
Part one: My kids like to watch Amazing Race. Amazing Race always has the obligatory gay couple or two. My kids have, until this time, been clueless. Until Monday when Princess turned to me in the middle of the show and asked me, "Mom, what's 'gay?'" Ummmm....... (My explanation, which was very brief and lacking in most detail basically said they like men instead of women. 10 seconds later, when they introduced the lesbians, we had a similar discussion.) Her response? "How very sad. They can never have babies."
How does she know this? Do you suppose she's playing ignorant?
Part two: So, Princess get's Ranger Rick magazine. I handed it to her in the car on the way home from school. She's reading along while Eldest and his buddy AM are riding in the rear. "Mom! Listen to this! In seahorses, the mama seahorse has something called an ovipositor which she uses to deposit eggs into a slit in the daddy's abdomen where they grow! (Mom says "oh really? I knew the daddy carried the babies, but I didn't know how they go in there....interesting....."OH CRAP what are they putting in Ranger Rick these days what will AM's mother think about our car conversations please, please, please let it stop here!) Princess' response? I didn't know it was called an ovipositor. Hey listen to this....."(continues on with another page of animal bliss).
After pondering this conversation for several hours, I have come to this conclusion: I am ready for the talk now. "Remember how in seahorses the eggs are deposited by an ovipositor? Well in humans it's the same thing but in reverse. We call it a spermipositor."
The first was to my dentist. An appointment that they wouldn't let me schedule for two weeks ago because six months would not be until yesterday. I think they assumed that I have insurance. They assumed wrong. You'd think they would see that in my chart. But that isn't the point. It rarely is. "IT" being my first rant. My point is this: I was in there for an hour while my teeth were scraped, polished, poked and examined by two different people. My final bill was $72 (after my pay day of service discount). They sent me home with two toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste and a roll of floss. Complementary.
My second appointment was at the vet's office where Nonny the evil, who pees in my house and claws my new furniture, who doesn't want to go outside in snowmageddon so lives exclusively in my garage, had to have enough shots that I can allow her near my children. Length of visit: 8 minutes. Cost of visit: $114. They offered to sell me some expensive flea medicine that also counter-attacks something else--worms maybe? (I passed.)
There's just something twisted about that.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
A word from Chaos:
Waterbrook provided me with Secrets and The Golden Cross. My feeling is that these six novels are re-releases. I KNOW that the three I've read are. The best news about that is that many (if not all?) of them have sequels which are ALREADY available. You can't beat that! I'm going to avail myself of them sooner rather than later.
Secrets is a quick and easy read with a hint of suspense, though you get the feeling right off that the danger isn't all that dangerous (making it quite a bit more readable by chickens like me). And I'm afraid I shouldn't say much more as most of my comments would provide a spoiler. It's a nice read with a bit of romance, suspense, and, um, jealousy. On my part. And that's all I have to say about that.
The Golden Cross was RIVETING. I'm not sure why. The suspense doesn't even start up until you are halfway through the book and it drains off pretty quickly. It might simply be that I want the underdog to win once. There are several quotes in there, too, that I have marked and will copy down for reference. Wonderful word usage. And, I'll tell you this; I will be on a seek and find mission for the rest of the series. Though it isn't necessary to read them in order, this is the second in the series, so you may want to start with book one: The Silver Sword.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Of all the household chores, it is the one I most despise. More than cleaning toilets. More than mopping floors. Certainly more than laundry.
I would rather clean out the garage than do dishes.
So, would somebody freeking tell me why I am the ONLY ONE in this house that does dishes? Sees dishes? Thinks, man those dishes should really be done?
I'm tempted to ask my lovely husband, who has many wonderful qualities, not the least of which is never-asks-me-to-get-a-job-even-when-I-offer, if he has ever, EVER looked at a sink full of dishes and thought, wow, that's a lot of dishes, I'll bet Jamie would really like it if I did those for her (I would even allow for a continuation of that thought along the lines of maybe I'll get rewarded later...), but I'm afraid of the answer. I truly, truly do not believe he has EVER looked at that sink full of dishes and felt even a smidgen of responsiblity. Not even when we both worked. Not when we were both students. NEVER.
My kids don't either.
They actually had the nerve, THE NERVE, to say in response to, "you've destroyed the whole house"
"we didn't mess up the kitchen or the dining room."
Oh, you didn't, did you? You didn't eat that dinner? You didn't scarf those cookies? Those aren't your cups/plates/forks/spoons/bowls/lunchboxes/foodsmutz/animalcrackersgroundintothefloor? I guess you ARE right. You DIDN'T mess up the kitchen and/or dining room. That isn't your Darth Vader helmet there on the floor. I wore that while preparing your barbecued meatballs with seven side dishes. It makes me happy to do puzzles in between sheets of cookies, but I didn't get that 24 piece one done so I left it there on the floor along with my puppets. I did all that. Let me go clean that up for you.
And when I'm done I'll tackle the rest of the house you ungrateful little angels.
YES, I AM in a snit tonight.
Dishes do that to me.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Some time in this beloved mess of a story I Became A Writer and my writerly friends would scoff at "prairie romances" and their "formulaic" plotlines and "predictable" endings. And I, being a follower of the worst sort thought there might be something to what they said. After all, most of the prairie romances I read, I read in middle school.
So it was, I confess, with a little trepidation that I took up The Hidden Flame by Davis Bunn and Janette Oke. I honestly don't even remember requesting it, though it came in the mail, I presume for review (and I probably did request it). What have I gotten myself into? I asked myself. I don't have time to read this. I don't have time to read anything. But if I did request it, I needed not only to read it, but also to tell you, my lovely readers about it. What if it was a formulaic prairie romance re-written to look like a first century church historical novel?
I needn't have feared. Mercy me, it was scary good. Scary good. The kind of good that makes you want to give up sleep to read it. (Which I believe I remember doing with the latter Love Comes Softly books. Maybe my writerly friends were getting too big for their britches?) And, OK, maybe I say this too often, and maybe God is working on crud in me, but this book really struck a few spiritual nerves in me, too. Made me want to strive to trust and obey. And re-read Acts. And read this book's predecessor The Centurion's Wife. It was rather most excellent. So, if you are hankering for something new and different and historical and spiritual, you have found your book. Though you may want to start with the first in the Acts of Faith series.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
I just came off a 24 hour stomach bug. I feel like I have a massive hangover. Can't move. Head aches. Dehydrated as all get out and can't find anything my stomach will accept. A seven pound weight loss is so not worth it. I do NOT understand bulimia.
I finished reading The Secret Garden with Princess on Sunday night during the Super Bowl halftime. Have you read that one? In it Colin is a self-declared invalid, certain he will die before adulthood, goes into hysterics because he feels so bad. Yesterday, as I waited for the hours of nausea to pass and I didn't stand, I could understand Colin. I don't know what lead him down the road to staying in bed (sickly toddlerhood, I guess), but once you've lain abed for more than ten hours, everything hurts. My hips ached so badly I couldn't lie down anymore. My head ached so fiercely that I didn't want to be horizontal. I ended up sleeping upright on the couch. Which worked until my neck protested. Sickness is awful. I hope to not repeat it very often.
Because 34 year old mothers of four are apparently carriers of the plague, we are rarely invited to super bowl parties. Because we are rarely invited to the parties, but still want to participate, we have our own parties with our four plague carrying children. I stocked up on plenty of fatty foods, laid out a picnic blanket on the living room floor and gave my children permission to go at it. By the second quarter, when they kept asking if they could have XYZ, I gave them the following lecture, "Go ahead. Eat whatever you want. But make sure you stop before you make yourself sick. When you are a burping, farting, puking mass of diarrhea on the bathroom floor, don't come to me for sympathy."
Two pieces of pizza and a reasonable bowl of rotel dip followed by an orange. Really. That's it. But at 2:30 in the morning, while camped on the bathroom floor and begging God to just let me puke and be done with it, I wanted some sympathy. I got none.
Justice. That's what that is.
The Daily Texas Series by Lisa Wingate:
, without ever leaving home!
The Blue Sky Hills Series by Lisa Wingate:
A Month of Summer
Road Trip Snacks (Straight from , of course!)
Wrap it all up with a fuzzy, fleecy Texas throw blanket for those cold nights on the road (or curled up with your books!)