1. i-anything
2. Marshmallow-y candies - peeps, circus peanuts. ACK.
3. Shower games - baby or wedding
4. Kenny Chesney
5. Tissues with lotion in them
6. High heels for babies. Don't believe me? Yo.
7. American Idol
8. Lavender-scented cleaning supplies
9. Scented baby wipes, cleaners and dryer sheets
10. The Chicken Dance Song
11. Twitter (I've quit twice... this last "quit" was final)
12. Anything with cream cheese in, on or near it
13. Lady GaGa
14. LOST (Sorry Fred and all of Fred's friends)
15. Karaoke
16. Tanning beds
17. fb Farmville or any other fb game
18. Coffee and pop
19. Driving around to look at Christmas lights
20. Leggings
Inspiration from Princess Nebraska, here.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Pointing Blame
At some point, Cindy gave me this super awesome coin purse that is a replica of a bank bag - but on a much smaller scale. I loved it. I used it. It held my special cards and extra cash.
I was running errands last week and shoved the wallet in my coat pocket. That night, it's gone. GONE, gone. Like nowhere to be found, gone. I consoled myself to sleep with the notion that it simply MUST be in my office, on my desk.
It wasn't.
I called the two places I went - Colby Ridge and the Library. No luck.
Eating dinner with Cindy and Judy a couple of nights later a realization comes over me. My library card was in that wallet. I bet the stinkin' library kept it and are just waiting for me to come in, in person, and announce myself so that they may hand me printed copies of the dumb laws preventing me from seeing what I've checked out! That must be it! Sneaky!
Well crap! After the little run-in I had with the library system (read the post AND comments here) right here in blog-land, the last thing I want to do is face them. (Who me? Spineless?) Those jokers can KEEP my card. I'll just make Fred check out my books. Neener-freaking-neener.
The next day, Elliot's teacher handed me my coin purse.
What the---?
I still don't know how it got there but they handed it to me with a smile and I smiled back thinking Heh, heh, heh, you aren't so smooth after all, Library!
I was running errands last week and shoved the wallet in my coat pocket. That night, it's gone. GONE, gone. Like nowhere to be found, gone. I consoled myself to sleep with the notion that it simply MUST be in my office, on my desk.
It wasn't.
I called the two places I went - Colby Ridge and the Library. No luck.
Eating dinner with Cindy and Judy a couple of nights later a realization comes over me. My library card was in that wallet. I bet the stinkin' library kept it and are just waiting for me to come in, in person, and announce myself so that they may hand me printed copies of the dumb laws preventing me from seeing what I've checked out! That must be it! Sneaky!
Well crap! After the little run-in I had with the library system (read the post AND comments here) right here in blog-land, the last thing I want to do is face them. (Who me? Spineless?) Those jokers can KEEP my card. I'll just make Fred check out my books. Neener-freaking-neener.
The next day, Elliot's teacher handed me my coin purse.
What the---?
I still don't know how it got there but they handed it to me with a smile and I smiled back thinking Heh, heh, heh, you aren't so smooth after all, Library!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Snapshot: Elliot James
Elliot is every bit a little boy.
From delving in the mud on the first nice day of the year to obliterating any surface in our house with construction equipment and army guys who are constantly at war. He enjoys watching sports, discussing sports and pretend-playing sports. There are wrestling matches upstairs and super hero movies downstairs most every weekend.
Fred beams, proudly. I think Elliot has provided him more joy than he ever thought possible. I smile, watching them interact. Trading chips and fist bumps and chanting 'Go Big Re-ed' all season long.
I also smile because I know that I'm the ouchie-fixer. I am the one to cuddle with at 6am or at the hint of any sickness. I am the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich maker there ever was and if you're helpful, I might just toss a marshmallow on your plate at lunch.
We each have our role, making us a family.
A family that I live for and can't wait to get home to at night.
From delving in the mud on the first nice day of the year to obliterating any surface in our house with construction equipment and army guys who are constantly at war. He enjoys watching sports, discussing sports and pretend-playing sports. There are wrestling matches upstairs and super hero movies downstairs most every weekend.
Fred beams, proudly. I think Elliot has provided him more joy than he ever thought possible. I smile, watching them interact. Trading chips and fist bumps and chanting 'Go Big Re-ed' all season long.
I also smile because I know that I'm the ouchie-fixer. I am the one to cuddle with at 6am or at the hint of any sickness. I am the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich maker there ever was and if you're helpful, I might just toss a marshmallow on your plate at lunch.
We each have our role, making us a family.
A family that I live for and can't wait to get home to at night.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
How To: March Madness Bracket
Many people await Selection Sunday for the sole purpose of filling out their March Madness Bracket the next day. Love it, hate it, or lie somewhere in between, these basketball brackets are completed all across the country.
How they complete them is another story.
1. Educated. This requires following the NCAA Division I Men's Basketball games for a long period of time - like months, people - and then making an educated decision as to who should overcome who as the playoffs go on. Who has that kind of time?
2. Numbers. Brackets include the team name as well as their standing and some people will choose the team with the better standing. This sounds like a lot of work.
3. Name Aesthetic. My personal favorite, you read the name of each team playing and decide which one sounds better and go with that. For example - Gonzaga was to play Florida State... well, Gonzaga sounds a lot like Gorgonzola that THAT is a fabulous cheese. So, Gonzaga it is!
4. Mascots. This is a simple one. Imagine a cage match between the two teams' mascots - could a terrapin (turtle) beat a cougar? Or could a longhorn beat a demon deacon? This, to me, seems like a lot of research.
5. Naughty Words. This is mostly for the smaller children in that certain words aren't supposed to be used on a regular basis. And as Bart Simpson got away with yelling Hell because it's a place, a co-workers son has Butler going all the way. BUTT-ler. Get it? BUTT. ler.
6. Sounds Like. Used by our little boy, you pick the team based on what you thought Daddy said when he was reading it to you. Thus, the Ohio State Bucket-guys are going all the way. I mean, really, the guys that drive bucket trucks? How could they NOT win?
How do you complete your bracket?
How they complete them is another story.
1. Educated. This requires following the NCAA Division I Men's Basketball games for a long period of time - like months, people - and then making an educated decision as to who should overcome who as the playoffs go on. Who has that kind of time?
2. Numbers. Brackets include the team name as well as their standing and some people will choose the team with the better standing. This sounds like a lot of work.
3. Name Aesthetic. My personal favorite, you read the name of each team playing and decide which one sounds better and go with that. For example - Gonzaga was to play Florida State... well, Gonzaga sounds a lot like Gorgonzola that THAT is a fabulous cheese. So, Gonzaga it is!
4. Mascots. This is a simple one. Imagine a cage match between the two teams' mascots - could a terrapin (turtle) beat a cougar? Or could a longhorn beat a demon deacon? This, to me, seems like a lot of research.
5. Naughty Words. This is mostly for the smaller children in that certain words aren't supposed to be used on a regular basis. And as Bart Simpson got away with yelling Hell because it's a place, a co-workers son has Butler going all the way. BUTT-ler. Get it? BUTT. ler.
6. Sounds Like. Used by our little boy, you pick the team based on what you thought Daddy said when he was reading it to you. Thus, the Ohio State Bucket-guys are going all the way. I mean, really, the guys that drive bucket trucks? How could they NOT win?
How do you complete your bracket?
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Circus Is ... Well ... Back
They closed the street on Tuesday and by the afternoon a few trailers had rolled in. Large, metal trailers with the tiniest of windows (I think?) way up at the top.
Those would be the animals. *sigh*
My Wednesday morning walk from my parking lot to our building was littered a little more than normal with cigarette butts, beer cans and half-smoked joints. Many half-smoked joints. Trucks were idling and dark sheets cover every window. Just outside the driver's side door of one truck was a large plastic bottle that was no longer filled with its original contents... if you catch my drift.
Those would be the workers and performers. *sigh*
Today, buses are pulling up left and right dropping off the many small children that will come to see the performance thanks to schools and day cares. Children that will come with ideas of sparkle, neat animals and acrobatics and their parents who are wishing to be anywhere but there.
This would be this circus. *sigh*
I'm not against the actual circus, per say. I like the idea of it... the show. The unicycles, clown cars and acrobats. The lights and loud music and popcorn for all to share. Those crazy aerialists and that lady that changes dresses every time the tent whooshes over her head (really, how do they DO that?)
I'm against the creepy old men dressed as clowns that leer at the small children. I'm against the ringmaster literally dimming the lights and pointing out "the good kids" whose parents bought them an over-priced flashing piece of plastic garbage. I'm against blowing folks out of canons... cool or not it's just not safe to blow anyone out of anything.
Oh - but the animals.
I'm guessing the pig didn't ask to be trained to push around a stroller with a baby pig inside. I highly doubt the elephant likes being manually prodded to put it big ole foot up on a ball. I also think the horses want to do a little more than trot around a concrete performance floor only to get shuffled back away somewhere and then - no doubt - back on the trailer either for the night or for the next few nights of traveling. And no one really thinks the dog wearing a clown hat is hysterical.
But then I think - is the pig pushing a stroller having a better life than the one that gave me sausage with my pancakes?
Truth is, I don't really know.
Those would be the animals. *sigh*
My Wednesday morning walk from my parking lot to our building was littered a little more than normal with cigarette butts, beer cans and half-smoked joints. Many half-smoked joints. Trucks were idling and dark sheets cover every window. Just outside the driver's side door of one truck was a large plastic bottle that was no longer filled with its original contents... if you catch my drift.
Those would be the workers and performers. *sigh*
Today, buses are pulling up left and right dropping off the many small children that will come to see the performance thanks to schools and day cares. Children that will come with ideas of sparkle, neat animals and acrobatics and their parents who are wishing to be anywhere but there.
This would be this circus. *sigh*
I'm not against the actual circus, per say. I like the idea of it... the show. The unicycles, clown cars and acrobats. The lights and loud music and popcorn for all to share. Those crazy aerialists and that lady that changes dresses every time the tent whooshes over her head (really, how do they DO that?)
I'm against the creepy old men dressed as clowns that leer at the small children. I'm against the ringmaster literally dimming the lights and pointing out "the good kids" whose parents bought them an over-priced flashing piece of plastic garbage. I'm against blowing folks out of canons... cool or not it's just not safe to blow anyone out of anything.
Oh - but the animals.
I'm guessing the pig didn't ask to be trained to push around a stroller with a baby pig inside. I highly doubt the elephant likes being manually prodded to put it big ole foot up on a ball. I also think the horses want to do a little more than trot around a concrete performance floor only to get shuffled back away somewhere and then - no doubt - back on the trailer either for the night or for the next few nights of traveling. And no one really thinks the dog wearing a clown hat is hysterical.
But then I think - is the pig pushing a stroller having a better life than the one that gave me sausage with my pancakes?
Truth is, I don't really know.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Grumble Gramble Grrrr
Dear Fruit Thief:
How were your strawberries? Oh, wait - they weren't YOURS. I get that we all share a fridge... but I thought we all sort of just ate our own food. The joke - so obviously - is on me. I'm guessing you thought that 'whoever brought those yummy little berries' wouldn't even notice, right?
Wrong.
You see, when you're a massive Type A like myself there's a good chance you filled up the bag of strawberries for work EXACTLY half full. And were further tickled when you counted 12 of them in there! 12! Yay! So, you can imagine my disappointment when I got out my bag and noticed it was only 1/3 full and I only counted 9 berries.
That said, I am thankful that you only stole 3 of my hormone-injected berries (let's face it - it's winter in Nebraska... those things ain't just-a-growin' wild right now) and not the entire bag.
Further, I'm thankful that I had not yet washed them so you no doubt had a funny taste of dirt, various insecticides, and my own dirty hands in your mouth. I like to call that the taste of guilt.
I hope a seed gets stuck in your teeth.
XOXO,
Anna
How were your strawberries? Oh, wait - they weren't YOURS. I get that we all share a fridge... but I thought we all sort of just ate our own food. The joke - so obviously - is on me. I'm guessing you thought that 'whoever brought those yummy little berries' wouldn't even notice, right?
Wrong.
You see, when you're a massive Type A like myself there's a good chance you filled up the bag of strawberries for work EXACTLY half full. And were further tickled when you counted 12 of them in there! 12! Yay! So, you can imagine my disappointment when I got out my bag and noticed it was only 1/3 full and I only counted 9 berries.
That said, I am thankful that you only stole 3 of my hormone-injected berries (let's face it - it's winter in Nebraska... those things ain't just-a-growin' wild right now) and not the entire bag.
Further, I'm thankful that I had not yet washed them so you no doubt had a funny taste of dirt, various insecticides, and my own dirty hands in your mouth. I like to call that the taste of guilt.
I hope a seed gets stuck in your teeth.
XOXO,
Anna
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