So I've been blog hopping lately. Especially on crafter blogs. I like that stuff ok?
Anyways, I've recently noticed a rash of women posting photos of themselves doing ridiculous things in an attempt to be darling. Oh, look here I am pretending to sew, and here I am wearing my newly made beaded necklace, and here I am with my cutsie hair thingy. Whatever. I'm not so much into that but like I said, whatever. I'm just looking for ideas. (For crafts, not photo ops)
HOWEVER, I just ran across a blog where the girl has posted photos of herself showing off the new bikini she just sewed. Really? What would posses you to do that? For the love.
So I'm asking you please, if I start posting photos of myself in some crafty bikini please confiscate my computer, the bikini, and me. Oh, and if you start posting pictures of your self in skimpy homemade swimwear you should probably be aware that I will be mocking you (and I won't be the only one).
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The Crazy Lady at the Jiffy Lube
So this morning I was at the Jiffy Lube to get my car's emissions tested. Oh the joy. While waiting (for two hours) I saw a woman sitting outside of the store. She was sitting on the sidewalk with her baby.
They were both wearing pajamas even though it was noon. The mom, who could have used a shower and a hair brush, had set up some kind of sewing station with bags and thread and needles everywhere and was stitching buttons on some random fabric pieces.
Meanwhile the baby (who was a girl by the way) was playing with a Bobba Fett action figure while the mom was humming her some Star Wars tunes.
People coming in and out of Jiffy Lube stared but she didn't seem to mind. She just kept on doing her thing and waiting for the insanely slow lubers to do their stuff.
When my name was finally called and it was time to leave I caught one more glimpse of her reflected in the mirrored window and thought boy, I really shouldn't be allowed out in public.
They were both wearing pajamas even though it was noon. The mom, who could have used a shower and a hair brush, had set up some kind of sewing station with bags and thread and needles everywhere and was stitching buttons on some random fabric pieces.
Meanwhile the baby (who was a girl by the way) was playing with a Bobba Fett action figure while the mom was humming her some Star Wars tunes.
People coming in and out of Jiffy Lube stared but she didn't seem to mind. She just kept on doing her thing and waiting for the insanely slow lubers to do their stuff.
When my name was finally called and it was time to leave I caught one more glimpse of her reflected in the mirrored window and thought boy, I really shouldn't be allowed out in public.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
How to Spend A Stormy Wednesday Night
How to spend a stormy Wednesday night.
#1. Go to the Red Box at the gas station. There you can get a giant drink and a movie in one stop.
#2. Make sure that you rent He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (the animated series)Vol.1
#3. Watch it at home on the floor with both children sitting on your lap and your sons 3 legged pet grasshopper in a jar next to you while you drink that soda.
#4. End the evening with a camp out. That's right. Everyone sleeping on the floor in front of the TV in giant quilts.
Try you'll like it. We did.
#1. Go to the Red Box at the gas station. There you can get a giant drink and a movie in one stop.
#2. Make sure that you rent He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (the animated series)Vol.1
#3. Watch it at home on the floor with both children sitting on your lap and your sons 3 legged pet grasshopper in a jar next to you while you drink that soda.
#4. End the evening with a camp out. That's right. Everyone sleeping on the floor in front of the TV in giant quilts.
Try you'll like it. We did.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Bad Guy Dreams
So, yesterday I asked Simon what kind of party he wanted for his birthday party. And what did he answer? A Batman party? A movie party? A swimming party? A slumber party? No, No, No. He wants a Bad Guy party.
That's right, a bad guy party.
My first thought was to talk him out of it and then I thought no, it's his birthday he can envision it anyway he wants to. Then I started to think about what we could do at a bad guy party. First of all I'd paint long curly mustaches on each child followed by a pair of angry eye brows. Then I could tie them all up and see if they could escape. It would be the best party ever.
Unfortunately his birthday isn't for months and he'll change his mind 75 times before then, which is a shame. I'm all for the Bad Guy birthday party.
That's right, a bad guy party.
My first thought was to talk him out of it and then I thought no, it's his birthday he can envision it anyway he wants to. Then I started to think about what we could do at a bad guy party. First of all I'd paint long curly mustaches on each child followed by a pair of angry eye brows. Then I could tie them all up and see if they could escape. It would be the best party ever.
Unfortunately his birthday isn't for months and he'll change his mind 75 times before then, which is a shame. I'm all for the Bad Guy birthday party.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Am I Getting Old?
It's 10:30 and I'm spent. After posting this the computer will be shut down and I will be in bed within seconds. Since when am I worn out at 10:30?
I'm also nauseous beyond all reason. Jon and I just got home. On the way we stopped at Sonic and instead of my usual I got a chocolate malt and some onion rings. Sound delicious? Well, it did to me but now there's a war in my belly. Honestly I think I might die. Really, death feels eminent. My stomach used to be a bottomless pit! A sack full of Del Taco at midnight washed down with a gallon of Dr. Pepper was nothing. What is going on?
Then there is the whole issue of not being able to jump on the trampoline without peeing...
That's it. I'm old. Who cares? Give me some slippers and a Cadillac I'm going to bed.
I'm also nauseous beyond all reason. Jon and I just got home. On the way we stopped at Sonic and instead of my usual I got a chocolate malt and some onion rings. Sound delicious? Well, it did to me but now there's a war in my belly. Honestly I think I might die. Really, death feels eminent. My stomach used to be a bottomless pit! A sack full of Del Taco at midnight washed down with a gallon of Dr. Pepper was nothing. What is going on?
Then there is the whole issue of not being able to jump on the trampoline without peeing...
That's it. I'm old. Who cares? Give me some slippers and a Cadillac I'm going to bed.
Monday, June 1, 2009
I May Be a Little Paranoid
Jon and I were talking about how I am a paranoid mother the other day. He claims that I tend to be "over protective" when it comes to my children and their safety (or my perception of danger).
Later that night as I was sprinting down the sidewalk chasing Simon on his bike and yelling at him to "slow down" and "be careful" I thought, "Hum...Jon might just be on to something."
Later that night as I was sprinting down the sidewalk chasing Simon on his bike and yelling at him to "slow down" and "be careful" I thought, "Hum...Jon might just be on to something."
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My Name is Simon and I Like Chocolate
As of late I've been feeling like a lousy mother again. I try my best but I just feel like I'm screwing it all up. With that in mind we go to church on Sunday...
As Jon and I are walking our class to sharing time we pass Simon's class coming from sharing time. Simon is mad. Furrowed brows, stomping feet, and my personal favorite---the declaration of unhappiness, "I'm so angry!" Apparently something super cool happened in sharing time and he wasn't one of the chosen few called on to participate. (Which when you are only 4 I can see how that can be devastating.)
I decide to stay with Simon in his class for a few minutes until the crushing blow has been forgotten. Fortunately Simon has like wonder woman for his teacher and she can talk him into doing just about anything. Within minutes she has him with her playing an obedience game. Unfortunately she let Simon be the leader and as I left class he has the kids doing crazy ninja jump turn kicks...
After church our home teachers stop by. Trying include Simon in the lesson (and bless their hearts for trying) one of them asks Simon what he gets to do when he turns eight. Simon looks at us, smiles and says "I get to poo." I send him the look of death and he jumps up in between the two men on the other couch.
Undaunted the home teacher proceeds---showing him a picture of the twelve apostles. "Who are they?" he asks. Without hesitation Simon announces they are "bad guys".
Next comes a photo of the prophet. "And who is he Simon?"
"President of the bad guys."
That's right. President of the bad guys.
Well, what do you expect? It's not like Jon works for the church or anything.
After being shamed we bid farewell to the home teachers and head up to my family's house for dinner. The drive to my parents was peppered with tiny conversations about Simon thinking that the sun was melting him and how his heart is turning bad because he's so tired.
Upon arriving at my family's Simon sits up to the table where he announces that he doesn't want to pray and that the food looks "sick". That's when my grandpa says, "You're a mess! Who are you anyways?" And Simon says, "My name is Simon and I like chocolate."
Chocolate Shmocolate. My name is liz and I still love my little twirp.
Here's to hoping that we do better next Sunday.
As Jon and I are walking our class to sharing time we pass Simon's class coming from sharing time. Simon is mad. Furrowed brows, stomping feet, and my personal favorite---the declaration of unhappiness, "I'm so angry!" Apparently something super cool happened in sharing time and he wasn't one of the chosen few called on to participate. (Which when you are only 4 I can see how that can be devastating.)
I decide to stay with Simon in his class for a few minutes until the crushing blow has been forgotten. Fortunately Simon has like wonder woman for his teacher and she can talk him into doing just about anything. Within minutes she has him with her playing an obedience game. Unfortunately she let Simon be the leader and as I left class he has the kids doing crazy ninja jump turn kicks...
After church our home teachers stop by. Trying include Simon in the lesson (and bless their hearts for trying) one of them asks Simon what he gets to do when he turns eight. Simon looks at us, smiles and says "I get to poo." I send him the look of death and he jumps up in between the two men on the other couch.
Undaunted the home teacher proceeds---showing him a picture of the twelve apostles. "Who are they?" he asks. Without hesitation Simon announces they are "bad guys".
Next comes a photo of the prophet. "And who is he Simon?"
"President of the bad guys."
That's right. President of the bad guys.
Well, what do you expect? It's not like Jon works for the church or anything.
After being shamed we bid farewell to the home teachers and head up to my family's house for dinner. The drive to my parents was peppered with tiny conversations about Simon thinking that the sun was melting him and how his heart is turning bad because he's so tired.
Upon arriving at my family's Simon sits up to the table where he announces that he doesn't want to pray and that the food looks "sick". That's when my grandpa says, "You're a mess! Who are you anyways?" And Simon says, "My name is Simon and I like chocolate."
Chocolate Shmocolate. My name is liz and I still love my little twirp.
Here's to hoping that we do better next Sunday.
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