Jokes, she's got Jokes

Or rather she has one joke, and 2/3rds of it is stolen-or shall we say "borrowed" from somebody else.

You've all seen it, the "Farrah got to heaven and God asked her what she wanted for the earth" joke. Here's my take on it:

Farrah went to heaven and God asked her what she wanted for the earth. Farrah replied "For all the children to be safe...and" but before she could finish her sentence, God killed Micheal Jackson. Then Farrah yelled, "But Wait, there's more!"...and God took Billy Mays.

Lets hope Farrah isn't saying anything else.

tell tale signs that the romance has died

Amidst kisses, your husband suggests a bath. You answer, "Why, do I need one?"

Error!

We paid off our first credit card this week. High Fives were flying! But what is hilarious, is that we both got e-mail from the card issuer saying ERROR! Account balance zero, card closed.

Uh, that's no error, that's on purpose folks. Can I quote dog lady and tell the credit card company to Bite Me?

Totally and Completely Offensive

There is every possibility, that in the course of this rant I will become the one who is totally and completely offensive, so consider yourself warned.

I made the mistake of going to the grocery store at 5:00 pm on a weekday. That choice was "my bad"...I take full responsibility for being there at the craziest hour of the day. However, that does not excuse the behavior of one particular patron.

Now here is where I tread in dangerous territory, because lets face it, I don't know every single person who ever comes by and reads these little posts of mine. So, if you find yourself a member of the category of people I'm about to expose my loathing for. I'm sorry in advance for offending you, and hope that you will not take it out on the next person you meet in the grocery store.

I entered the store prepared, child-free, and ready to duck in, get my groceries with a smile on my face, and leave. The woman who saw fit to block the entire baking aisle with the store's borrowed scooter chair, her 2 grungy children, and her DOG however, were not prepared, were not accessory free, and were NOT smiling. They blocked the entire aisle as they perused each and every flavor of Duncan Hines Cake mix and Frosting on the shelf. Suffice it to say, that there was sufficient evidence that eating too many cakes was perhaps the reason for the borrowed scooter to start with. The children jumped around, argued, and occassionally helped the woman reach a new flavor and discuss whether they had in fact reached just the right one. I will admit, I had one or two nasty thoughts about her and her aisle blocking body/scooter prior to my politely saying "excuse me, may I please get past?" (not once, but twice before she actually let me in to the area I wanted to be in). But when her DOG started jumping on me and licking my face, I shoved his nose away from me. He persisted, I shoved his nose again. He persisted and I said (admittedly in a disgruntled tone) "Will you please keep your dog off of me!" To which she replied, with as much vinegar as you can possible imagine, "Well, you could have said something earlier! And don't you know you're supposed to keep 5 feet away from a service animal!" To which I admitted my ignorance followed by "If he's your service animal, where is his vest?"....after a few stutters, she came up with "Well, its too hot for him to wear it!" To which I replied, "Well, service animal or not, I would appreciate it if you would keep him off of me, I don't want him on me." She replied. Get this. She replied with "Bite Me, Just BITE ME!" I turned around and muttered "Maybe your dog will."

(And FYI, there is no possible way that dog was actually a service dog. He was just a dog owned by a woman who's figured out how to play the game. I'm sure she was just waiting for the store to challenge her so she could cry discrimination.)

The Best Mom and Dad I Ever Had

I love notes from burgeoning spellers. Yesterday Gabe slipped a note under the master bedroom door. It said "To Momanddad from Gabe. Yoo r the best momanddad I evr had" I love how mom and dad is one word! I could find all kinds of symbolism in that, but I'll spare you. He also, in a fit of impatience, decided that he would take matters into his own hands and write my shopping list for me, as well as gather my coupons. The list was for items like "bred, milk, dow (dough), serel (cereal) and ches (cheese). The coupons he brought me were for Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, Nicorette, and Glucerna. It ought to be a successful shopping trip.

Quien es Mas Macho????

My dad!

I remember as a child there was a period of time when he would occassionally enter a room holding his arms over his shoulders body-builder style saying "Quien es Mas Macho?" in some crazy voice that wasn't his own. We would laugh and think he was weird, and probably a couple of us would go grab an arm and hang from it monkey-bars style.

I remember thinking I had the coolest dad on the block, maybe even the whole county, when he came home with a pair of checkered OP board shorts. All the cool kids wore OP, and Hang Ten, and now my dad did too!

And while this may be a mixed memory, I remember my dad screeching in to his parking spot in the front of the house, bringing the little white Fiat to a sudden stop which jerked the whole car into place, and hopping out to chase us all around the yard singing Devo's Whip-It! ( I also remember my mom giving him "the look" when he turned up "Teenage Enema Nurses (in Bondage)"-yes, that's a real song-on the radio when we were all in the car.

One of my favorite memories now was when mom and dad were saving up for mom's dream car...a champagne beige Peugeot station wagon. (Anybody else's mom ever long for a car with a name nobody else could say?) While they were saving the money they needed for the dream car, we drove around in a car they bought for a dollar from a ward member. It was an oxidized blue Ford LTD, complete with peeling white vinyl roof. We called it La Bomba, the Stadium Cruiser, the Battle Tank, etc. But there was a rule involved with riding in this car. No, it didn't have anything to do with seat belts, this was the 70's. Dad would NOT pull away from the curb until every occupant of that car had yelled at the top of their lungs, "Pigs In Spaaaaaaaaace!". Nobody was excused from screaming, not even guests.

I remember the year I was in sixth grade and we had a new principal at school. I don't know the dirty details of why and how my mom earned the nickname "THAT WOMAN" from the PTA, but I knew she owned it and wore it like a badge of honor. At some point "THAT WOMAN" (aka mom) had a meeting with the new school principal. Apparently it didn't go well. Suddenly I see my dad, all 6 ft of him, walking with that posture that meant somebody was in trouble, and it wasn't going to be pretty. He entered the principal's office and there was no point in hanging around. I went back to class. Later, I'll never forget the whispers going around what seemed like the entire school, "Lisa and Melanie's dad beat up Mr. Toth!!!" He didn't. But I think he wanted too. The next year I went on to Jr. High, and my sister and brothers went to a different elementary school. I wonder if I ever knew what the row was about? I don't remember, if I did.

Then there was the year that "Nancy" the girl who was in 7th grade, but rumor had it she was supposed to be in 9th grade, tried to sit on my dad's lap on the school bus on the way to Mountain High for the school ski club trip. That didn't go over very well.

Did anybody else's dad wear out a Social Distortion tape at any point? Mine did.

You know, I think there's alot I don't know about my dad. Peices of his youth that he's carefully tucked away. But what I do know about my dad is that he has always unconditionally loved us. And I love him.

Recycle, Re-use, Re...Respirate?

You already knew that mad scientist junior, the most thoroughly evolved of the cave-hair-clan has been experimenting with possible alternate uses for empty water bottles. Fortunately, his master plan to develop a "bepwoding" device using tired old AA batteries, speaker wire, and a water bottle proved inert. (ok, he doesn't say "bepwoding" anymore, but I still do!) But did you know if you punched tiny holes in an empty water bottle you could use it as a respirator while the carpet guy treats the animal stains the previous tenants left behind? Apparently its not as effective as hoped for, since the project was found left on the stairway shortly after it was introduced. A more effective use for said empty water bottles was far simpler. One bottle strapped to each wrist with a single, wide, rubber band creates excellent arm-rockets. Of course, they would be even better rockets if they were full of soda, shaken heartily, and let loose, but we'll pretend we never thought of that! ;)

I'm pretty sure when my son is grown he will tell his children that when he was a child he didn't have any toys and he had to make up his own toys out of plastic water bottles. He will have entirely forgotten the 3 buckets of toys sitting in his closet as I type. His memory of the things purchased will fade, but I gaurantee you he'll remember the things he created. And that's why those water bottles haven't been sent to the place they belong yet. He's having too much fun with them. Poor little mad-scientist, mommy won't buy him a real toy. Better go make up a new one!

That took a little longer than planned for.

I'm not super-woman, not exactly, but I did have our move semi-well organized and thought I would in-fact be the woman who somehow had everything in its place, up and running, and ready to resume normal life within 1 day of move-in. I'm sure it shocks you that this is not the way things happened.

Not that it has been a total disaster, we actually have accomplished quite a bit over the last week. Our progress, however, has been stunted by the knowledge that today, one week and a day post move-in, would be the day that all the things that should have been done BEFORE we moved in, would finally be taken care of. The list includes: Pest Control, Carpet/Pad removal and re-installation, Toilet repair, and phone jack installation.

Why, you may ask, were these things not done prior to our moving in to this place? According to the property management company "Everybody's idea of clean is different." Hello frustration! I will give them this, I essentially made $100.00 cleaning my own bathrooms on move in day, and while they were pretty nasty, they weren't the worst I've ever seen. (Ever been on an RS cleaning detail?) I only had to clean up things like hairspray, make-up, and hair. No feces-so we were good to go to take the $100.00 credit and do the cleaning ourselves. The carpet (and the tac-strips, and probably the baseboards) however, in this "No-Pet" home were magically soaked in animal urine. We opted to let the management company take care of that problem.

Despite a few minor challenges, I couldn't be happier about this new place. It is a little bit nicer than the old house (definitely constructed better) the rent is a little bit less than the old house, and the best part is...JP can't hear us when he's asleep and we're down stairs!!!! I can even have the radio on, play games with the kids, cook, come in and out at the front door, etc. and he doesn't hear a thing. I've realized I've developed some poor housekeeping habits which arose from the need to be silent at the the old house, and I'm having to make myself relearn daily habits but its exciting to be able to be a home-maker again, and not a "silent-partner" (hehehe).

So wish us good luck in our new home, tell us your moving horror story, and consider yourself welcomed back!

Words of Wisdom from a Little Old Man

Today is our wedding anniversary and I thought I'd write about one of my favorite conversations ever. It was with a 92 year old man who was a client at a bank I once worked at. His words have always stuck with me.

He had come to the bank to make a deposit, and while I was processing his transaction, he noticed I had an engagement ring on my finger. He asked me about the lucky guy and of course I answered all his questions with the excitement of a newly engaged woman.

Then, he told me (almost tearfully) that he and his wife who had just recently passed, had celebrated their 75th wedding anniversary just a few weeks before she died. I commented on how beautiful that was. His response was priceless. He chuckled and said "well, you know, the first 50 years were a little rough, we were still getting to know each other. But the last 25...they were pure bliss.

And so I look back on our tiny little 7 years, just one tenth of the time, and I can sort of see how that makes sense. The first 5 years were really, really hard. Then the 6th year was a transtional year, now, this 7th year, it has been wonderful. Not perfect- of course not- but truly wonderful. I wonder once we hit 10, will I feel like the first 7 were rough? At 20 will it seem like the first 15? I have a sneaking suspicion it will.

And so, a public "Thank You" to my husband who has worked so hard to be a good husband. Who has practiced patience and perserverance in the face of many significant challenges. And has loved me, just the way I am. Not in an enabling, giver her what she wants or nobody will be happy kind of way, but in a "I want to help you be the very best person you have inside of you" kind of way. And that, I think is true love, because that kind of love requiresa long term commitment to see the project through.

Gotta Get My Move On

6 days and counting till we pack up these boxes and move them to the next house. Fortunately, we have a two year lease on the new place, so we won't be doing this again next year. Now keep your fingers crossed that the new landlord is planning on paying his mortgage and we can actually stay the whole two years we are planning on being there. Its not even a "cross town" move, let alone a cross country move, so I am very grateful for that. But its almost making knowing what to do in advance more difficult because some stuff doesn't really need to be packed, just relocated. But other stuff, I don't want to see again until we're in a house that has a mortgage with our name on it. So, I'm a little scattered, but I think we're starting to get it together. As of this morning, you can actually tell that we've started to pack things up to prepare.

So see you the next time I get online, maybe next week, maybe not for a couple weeks, we'll see.

Lisa

What Can I Do To Help?

JP and I lived on some pretty scarce resources during a time when it seemed like everybody else was living high on the hog. We got creative from time to time, and we definitely learned more than one lesson about how NOT to do things when money is just not available. So my question to you is this...What can I do to help you? What do you want to know? Do you need budget stretching ideas? Do you need coping mechanisms? Do you need cheap/free date night ideas? Wondering how to make yourself more employable? What can I help you with? You can comment, even anonymously if you'd like, or e-mail me and I will search my brain and any other resources I can find to come up with ideas that might help.

What Does a Sea Horse Say? And Other Silly Questions

Does anybody know what a Sea Horse Says? No? I didn't think so, how about a Cockroach? (I hear the kind originating from Madigascar make a pretty impressive hissing sound, but I've never heard it...thankfully.) These were just a few of the things we were considering in our home last week.

We also considered other things.

Is it appropriate to come running out of the house naked to greet the strangers buying your piano?

Should you punch a girl in the back as she's walking away from you even if she did pinch you?

If you order a Chocolate Caramel Bundt Cake Sundae at Sonic, should you ask for a "Boooont" like you're the lady in My Big Fat Greek Wedding? Or will that be completely lost on the 15 year old at the window?

Does Scooby Doo really teach children how to make explosive devices?

Should Mad Scientist Junior EVER be allowed to be behind closed doors?

Should batteries, wires, and empty water bottles ever be in our home, together, at one time?

Should shoes that can be put on by one's self trump shoes that don't stink?

Should hopping off the bus right before the bus driver closes the door, while everyone is yelling "what ARE YOU DOING!?" be rewarded if what you are doing is tattling on yourself and handing over the items you had planned to sneak to school (not explosive...just beach towel and shorts) to your mom?

How long should a child who refused to eat dinner be forced to watch the rest of the family enjoy dessert?

Is it wise to force a child to throw away his broken toys and cause him an entire week's worth of anxiety if you could have just done it for him while he wasn't home? (and probably have never been detected.)

If you go under the knife for plastic surgery, can you call your consultation "getting fitted for my prosthetics"? If you do call it that, can you get meals from the RS sisters for a week?

How did I know that item on the menu had a dirty name?