Cow Eyeballs

That's a cow eyeball. It's not one of the ones I actually had, because I am too negligent to get pictures that look this great. Plus the kids skewered them before I had my wits about me and pulled out a camera.

Cow eyeballs are one of the many perks of being in private school. It is also one of the perks of having poweful connections in the meat butchering industry.

Our little private school for the gifted and talented allowed me free reign (didn't care what I did as long as it wasn't them) to teach some really fun anatomy classes. As with previous classes that I have taught, some of the children hid crying and some of them worshipped at my cow eyeball goo covered feet. The sweet little ones that I locked in the closet fled to the closet were lucky to be in a non conventional school where you can leave your seat to vomit without having your citizenship docked. The ones that grabbed knives and other sharp objects and stabbed the eyeballs were very fortunate to be in an open minded setting where you can have knives at school and scream bloody murder without the local detective arriving to escort them to kid jail. Although we enjoy local law enforcement in the classroom, we use them mostly as eye candy, not as a threat.

As a teacher, I like to use tactics that cause an emotional reaction, therefore cementing the lesson in the brain. My goal, you would assume, is to bring the children to learning for themselves, causing them to seek further enlightenment. You are wrong. I look for the entertainment side more often than not. I go for shock value, terror, and in the end I hope to endear them to me through this. I look for their acceptance and love and my tools are gratuitous gore, dance routines, comedic video, threats, hugs, explosions, and speaking frankly about perscrition abuse.

My next themed unit will be on government. Do I just stream Rush live or take them to the booking room at the jail? Which one gives me the viceral reaction I'm looking for?

Red Ribbon Week

A few weeks ago The School of Awesomeness (Farm Boy's homeschool co-op) had Red Ribbon Week. Of course Officer Handsome was our guest speaker. We tried the old....scare em straight strategy. Only one child confessed to nightmares after, and one refused to participate completely. The children were whisked off to the land of drug abuse by their fearless leader, where they learned the dangers of meth abuse through pictorial proof provided by a series of mug shots. Meth makes you look old, dirty and you get lots of red sores! The treachery of huffing, shown here....

They also had a long discussion about perscription abuse because it's on the rise.  The class watched a video about cancers caused by smoking and heard a woman with throat cancer talk (in a horrible voice!) about what smoking did to her.  Then they saw pictures of men who chewed smokeless tobacco, with their lower jaws removed.  The nightmares only came from the Faces of Meth mug shots, which really surprised me.
And to really drive it home, the kids wore 'beer goggles', which skew your vision and trick your mind. It illustrated how your reaction time and balance are changed with alcohol use.  They seemed to like the beer goggles. 

They also came up with their own funny outfits and anti-drug sayings......Sock it to drugs! (silly socks), Throw away drugs! (football uniform), Tackle Drugs (football uniform), Be normal! Say not to drugs! (dressed normally), Black out drugs! (black clothes), Turn your back on drugs! (wore clothes backwards).

The kiddos got a lot of loot from the local police; bicycle flashers, pencils, rulers, badges, finger print and ID kits, and workbooks.  They also had the glory of being handcuffed, which they didn't like as much as I thought they would.  Maybe that will offset the joy of the beer goggles.

Pinterest

     As you well know this is the place I like to flaunt my weakness.  It feels good to let people know not to expect much when you deal with this hot mess.  My newest form of addiction is Pinterest .   It's kind of like crack in the way that it just won't let you let go. 
     Pinterest is a lovely site.........hey I should be getting paid for this advertisement!  Pinterest is a site where you can catalog, or pin, pictures of your other obsessions that aren't Pinterest.  I've been pinning crafts I woud love to do, but who am I kidding, never will.  I have been pinning food that I might make a fraction of.  I have been pinning interior design for the mansions that I will never own, nor will they have enough bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, kitchens.....or doors (how I love a good door! MMM) for that matter, to ever fit every dream I have.  I've pinned a zillion funny things or awesome quotes to live by that I savor for that second and then go back to that comfy place in my little dark heart where I don't really live by a higher standard of sweet sentiment.  I've pinned fashion out the wazoo.  I love pinning.  Oh the high I get. 
     Somewhere in my stone cold soul I believe there has been a glimmer of insight.  I think this pinning thing is making me a bit covetous.  Well super covetous.  Is that bad? I want to be crafty and chic.  I want to look glamourous.  I want to eat wicked yummy food.  I want a mansion.  Is this another satanic ploy to waste my time and dull my senses?  Probably.  Sometimes I tell myself I am only allowed a certain number of pins...but I never keep to it. 
     I'm not saying I'm stopping.  I'm not saying you shouldn't start....well because I could really use some company here.  I'm just saying I might have recgonized my control is slipping in another area.

Dear Stress, Let's Break Up

Dear Stress,

     We started out together at such a young age.  We were together so often.  You were there when everyone hollered at Grandma during lunch and made me cry.  You were there when I spent 19 years in school and I wanted to be home.  You've been with me on dates, with every church calling I have ever had, through all of the pregnancies, with each job.......from the one with cold calls to the ones where people could die at my hand.  You stuck it out through renovations and house building.  We have paired up for delights such as homeschool and living with a police officer.
     I'm afraid this may come as a shock, or that you will be upset and feel that my actions and feelings up to this point have not been authentic.  I feel that it is time to break up.  There.......I said it.  We are no good for each other.  I want to have some space and find out who I am.  You put so much pressure on me.  I feel like I am smothering.  Who are we without each other? 
     I hope you read this soon.  It would hate for you to find out on Facebook, when I change my status to <3 single.
     I will put your things in a box on the front step.......Tylenol, chocolate (what's left anyway), Coke, the bitten nails, 2 white hairs plucked this morning, Tylenol PM, the journals full of swear words, and the acne ointment.  I am keeping the shelves of books that you caused me to buy and the soaking tub as I cannot remove it. 
                                                                                                     Sincerely,
                                                                                                              Maimy

B.S.M.K.H.S. In No Particular Order

      So there I was in the dentist's chair yesterday.  It's not one of my favorite places, dating back since my youth when my dentist tried to smother me as I hyperventilated......and proceeded to pull 8 teeth without any tooth numby. As I lay there with the laughing gas cranked up, I realized that I felt pretty good.  I don't think I have felt that calm in at least a year, at my last illicit drug use.  It came to me quite clearly then why people use drugs.

     My brain works overtime all of the time.  It's kind of like a roller derby in there.  Frustration, anger, noise, movement from one place to another at flashy speeds, and I really take a pounding.  The only thing I have found to make it stop......besides nitrous oxide, is reading.  It gives my brain a place to focus.  So instead of doping up I read.

     I've noticed I am pretty infantile in my life progression thus far.

Except I am clearly not that adorable.  I don't think I have  ever properly learned to self regulate.  I am driven by pleasure and desire.  Sounds kind of naughty.  It has more to do with not being able to push myself out of my comfort zone.  It's a very small zone.  Kind of like a dot on a paper.  Officer Handsome can run a 5K after not having run for months.  I stoke myself up thinking I can become a runner and within the first moments of feeling my own heart beat above resting speed.....I just wanna throw in the towel.  I'm not really in pain, I am bored and a little anxious to get away from myself.  Running leaves you not much to do besides think, unless you happen to see a cow birthing a calf while you huff by.  Unfortunately odds are that won't happen often.  Also, once I saw a fallic symbol spray painted on a road sign and that gave me half a second of laughter.

     I find myself a little depressed that I don't make many strides during the day.  My brain flits from one place to the next and I never spend enough time on one thing.  Also I get really bored with one thing.  And I basically hate to do most things because I don't get payoff fast enough.  I think about crafting something awesome, but then I dwell while  I do it and end up not being able to face the thought of attempting some painting, or glueing or refinishing. I want to deep clean the kitchen cabinets and the kids dressers but the thought of having to focus on such dullness while still dwelling on every other thing that needs my attention, leaves me breathless with the desire to run. Eating and reading you can get a buzz from pretty quickly but besides that ........meh, too much work.

     I have concluded that it's about time to tame Maimy.  My natural man.  I conclude that a lot.  She is like living under a brown blanket.  She adds more weight, makes it hard to navigate, and makes everything dark. 

     While I was showering after my laborous run,  (I came up with a snappy idea that I could train myself to run with this website....http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml ) I had nothing to do but think some more.  That's when I came up with a plan.  I have to have guidelines.  Even though I like to wing everything, mostly because planning takes effort, I function better with strict rules and expectations.  Instead of having a to-do list, because I make terribly long ones once I start one, I am making some broader goals to accomplish during a day.

     B.S.M.K.H.S. in no particular order.  I am going to do something for my Body, Spirit, Marriage, Kids, Home, and Self, everyday.    Example.....I already went running, I will read an article from the Ensign and journal with it, I rented a movie for Officer Handsome and I, I will take the kids to the pool or on a walk and they need individual attention everyday so we will read, snuggle, play games and maybe bake, home......ugh put the laundry away, do dishes, start more laundry, and for myself.......it's hard not to get carried away here...for sure I will read, probably while eating lunch, and then hide from everyone and read some more.  Once I can see, feel really, that I have accomplished something I am hoping it will give me enough 'good' feeling to move on to the next task.

     For real, people out there.......are you cool being in your own head?  Do you have a lot of self control?  Where did it come from?

Cruella de Vil

I was doing dishes this morning when Piglet decided to have one of her bizarre conversations. 
Piglet: Mom we got to choose our moms in Heaven.
Me: Why did you choose me?  You could have gotten a rich mom, or a nice mom, or a cute and funny mom.
Piglet: You are nice......sometimes. And you are cute and funny.  And I don't know any rich moms. 
Me: You could have had another dad too.
Piglet: Other dads creep me out.
Me: So why do you think you chose me?  What were you thinking when you saw me? 
Piglet: You looked like you needed a lesson and I thought, "I can teach her a lesson."
Me: Oh ya, what are you going to teach me?
Piglet: To be nice......or Spanish.  Wait what does cruel mean?
Me: To be mean.
Piglet: Ya, I'm gonna teach you not to be cruel.

I guess she feels like not getting her way 100% of the time is cruel on my part.  Even I haven't learned that lesson yet.  Lesson # 12: You Don't Always Get What You Want......And How To Move On Gracefully.

My Espistle To Gomorrah....Or So You Don't Know When To Call 911

There are a lot of heathens out there.  Myself included.  So most of the time I say.....do what you will.  But this time I am going to say something.  I am going to generalize.  In general this is a bad idea.  If you can tell I am not talking about you.....then you are right.  I am not talking about you. I don't really want a response about how YOU would never act that way.  If I am talking about you.....consider yourself warned.
I have a big, BIG,BIG,BIG problem with any citizen that does not have the decency to make a 911 call....or with those of you that can't figure out when would be a good time.   Here's a tip....if there is a crime being committed or it looks like someone is in danger a call for help would be appreciated.  To help those of you out there with your heads stuck in a dank hole I will make a short list.....
1.  Breaking and entering.
2.  A screaming lunatic.
3.  A person that you can actually SEE entering a vehicle......OBVIOUSLY not belonging to him and then taking property.
4. Someone damaging property.
5.  Someone assaulting someone else....yes, even fists are illegal.  You don't have to wait for a weapon to come out.
6.  People screaming in a public setting...and not because it is BYU basketball.
7.  Someone that looks or sounds like they might be committing a carjacking.   Big heads up here.....when the keys to the vehicle are thrown so as to distract the criminal.......please do not pick them up and return them to the man with the wild look in his eyes.  He is infact, the criminal.  DO however feel free to call 911!!

My dissappointment in society runs pretty deep right now.  It's kind of like hemorrhaging, pulling up to the hospital with a light heart....finally hoping that someone will save you now, and then finding out that the doctors all have an IQ of 50.  Now I know that I can't count on anyone else out there.  Every man for himself.

Shakes, Jakes and Pancakes

  This is NOT Jake.....I was too lazy to format my picture properly.....so my friend Google helped.

Every New Year our family sets a big list of family goals.  Last year, in a fit of rage when the hubs wasn't around much.......I tore up the 2010 goals and shoved them deep into the trash can.  No one noticed.  This year one of the goals that everyone but me decided might be acceptable was to get a dog. 

I apologize right now for any dog lovers out there.  I used to be one when I was little and had my own dog.  Now I live in reality.  I am not a dog lover.  Gasp.....  I would rather bear 4 more children and raise them to adulthood.  I would rather have a rat.  I would rather.....do a lot of things.

Despite the fight I put up, we have a dog.  Some of my requirements for a dog were; he could not be mobile...no amublation of any form.  He could not eat or defecate.  He could not be conscious.  He could lay on a dog bed and not move.  He could not dig.  He could not chew.  He could not live in my house EVER.  He could not bark.   My neighbor upon hearing the requirements for a dog sent me to Cabela's to find a stuffed animal.  I did not laugh.  I appreciated her insight. Of my crucial demands, these were met; he does not chew, he does not dig, he has a dog bed.

His name is Jake.  He is an Irish Setter.  He is the size of a colt, maybe bigger.  He is 6 years old......score 1 for me.  He hardly barks.  He is very sweet natured.  He is almost what I was looking for except that his heart beats.  We found him on KSL and jumped the gun a little when he seemed to be what we were looking for.  We don't have a fenced yard......so Jake is a house dog:(  Jake loves me and it makes it very hard to not love him back.  He wants to sleep with me.....who doesn't though.  Let's rephrase.....everyone in the family wants to sleep with me except for Fire.  She wants her space.  He likes to watch me cook.  He keeps me company while I do laundry.  He is a good walking partner.  Sure I can find things about him which cause complaint....I mean I am still myself after all.  Do I love dogs? NO.  Do I love Jake? Ya.

I Bit The Bullet

Er, that is a picture that I took while I was waiting to board my ship to paradise....the boarding happened to be much later than expected.


Something else I didn't really expect. I pulled the eldest son, Farm Boy out of school. There wasn't one big reason. I have wanted to homeschool all of the kids for a long time. He was being overlooked and not challenged. And he HATED school. HATED it. I felt like I owed him to try something else since four continual years of hating 75% of his day didn't ever make him wake up with a different attitude. I knew it would be a challenge. Still...I didn't really expect what I got.

We quickly formed a sweet little co-op of our own with two other families and two fun mamas. The kids are pretty awesome and it is nice to have a group for the male child to hang with, especially around holidays. We meet on a weekly basis and have a fun project which the kids get through with gritted teeth so that they can move on to challenging each other on the Wii (yuck).

For the first few days while Farm Boy and I were on our own, it was like all of the dreams I had about homeschooling.....except for the missing ten other children and the long farm table. I tested him out of 3rd grade and moved him on to some other things that didn't glass over his eyes. He read, he wrote, he did algebra. And then the honeymoon adjourned rather quickly. Despite how terrifying and wicked mean I find myself, Farm Boy is not ruffled or intimidated. I hate it. If I don't have intimidation I have nothing. Even love doesn't pack the punch pure meanness does. Farm Boy and I are a poor personality match. I pray that someday he finds a girl just like his dad that can put up with the shear amounts of stubborn that spit out of him like lava. He has yet to actually win one of our scuffles.....but he is getting close. Ssh don't tell him. I'll flat out let it be known I dream about starting to drink.

All of the field trips, organic learning in situation, brain bending science experiments, leading Farm Boy to find internal motivation, and break out literary adventures......they are in the crapper and I am about ready to flush. I think my expectations were too high. I think learning is so fun. I want it to be amazing and exciting. I think he should pick up on whatever I present him before I am even finished. I think that I don't want to have to stand behind him with a bull whip and physically press him into doing a teeny weeny bit of work.

At this present moment it is 4:38 p.m. mountain standard time. He has done nothing more than eek out a few words of writing. He has yet to attempt his math. He did not read anything. There was no science experiment. He did however move all of the chairs from one room to another, make cup upon cup of chocky moomie for Nugget, play football with Nugget, make two meals for himself, poke me everytime he walked by, help unload groceries, and explain a movie that I haven't seen. And still......still! Even though I want to drown myself or put my passport to good use by disappearing.......I STILL think that for right now, this is a better choice for Farm Boy than going to an organized school institution.

11 Step Program For Those Thinking of Having Kids....

Yep that's right, she's in white.......

So I smuggled this from FB.  My son is telling me right now that if people read this they won't want kids.  The following is only partially true.  It's actually much worse.  But it also doesn't tell the good parts, like watching them sleep (ya, I know.....they are unconscious!), and giving them kisses and snuggles, or when they say, 'I love you." 


Lesson 1


1. Go to the grocery store.
2. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office.
3. Go home.
4. Pick up the paper.
5. Read it for the last time.


Lesson 2
Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their...
1. Methods of discipline.
2. Lack of patience.
3. Appallingly low tolerance levels.
4. Allowing their children to run wild.
5. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child's breastfeeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.
Enjoy it because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.



Lesson 3
A really good way to discover how the nights might feel...

1. Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8-12 pounds, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. (Eat cold food with one hand for dinner)

2. At 10PM, put the bag gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.

3. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1AM.

4. Set the alarm for 3AM.

5. As you can't get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and watch an infomercial.

6. Go to bed at 2:45AM.

7. Get up at 3AM when the alarm goes off.

8. Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM.

9. Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for work and go to work (work hard and be productive)

Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years. Look cheerful and together.



Lesson 4  Can you stand the mess children make? T o find out...
1. Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.

2. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.

3. Stick your fingers in the flower bed.

4. Then rub them on the clean walls.

5. Take your favorite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it.

6. Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?


Lesson 5  Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.

1. Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.

2. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out.

Time allowed for this - all morning.


Lesson 6     Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don't think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don't look like that.

1. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment.
Leave it there.

2. Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player.

3. Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Sprinkle cheerios all over the floor, then smash them with your foot.

4. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.



Lesson 7

Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice). If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat. Buy your week's groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys. Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.

Lesson 8
1. Hollow out a melon.

2. Make a small hole in the side.

3. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.

4. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.

5. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.

6. Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.


You are now ready to feed a nine- month-old baby.



Lesson 9
Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street , Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV but PBS, the Disney channel or Noggin for at least five years. (I know, you're thinking What's 'Noggin'?) Exactly the point.



Lesson 10

Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying 'mommy' repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each 'mommy'; occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car everywhere you go for the next four years. You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.

Lesson 11
Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt- sleeve, or elbow while playing the 'mommy' tape made from Lesson 10 above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.

This is all very tongue in cheek; anyone who is parent will say 'it's all worth it!' Share it with your friends, both those who do and don't have kids. I guarantee they'll get a chuckle out of it. Remember, a sense of humor is one of the most important things you'll need when you become a parent!

Is Your Mama Gonna Miss Ya Now You're Gone?

The incident occured Sunday October 31st around 0530. The only witnesses to the crime were the handsome couple toodling down I-15. The children were rendered unconscious from hours of Halloween partying and sugar withdrawl.




Witness statements.....

Officer Handsome: I think a jackrabbit just jumped in front of us.

Lovely Lady: What the *&^%$#@! Aahahaha! Something just flew at us!



Despite the dark nature of the night sky Officer Handsome signals and moves to the right. Upon reaching the off-ramp he completes his stop and exits the SUV with an LED flash light. He examines the bloodless carnage and returns to debrief. Handing over the flashlight to Lovely Lady, he snickers and insists she should find interesting the scene at the front of the vehicle. With much trepidation and a sense of foreboding, she rounds the SUV and finds herself face to carcass with an extremely large, and quite substantially dead owl. Having known this is what she would find, she shrieks with pride, "I told you so!". Then with the fear of God like ice water in her soul.....she runs down the off ramp pawing at the arteries in her own neck and shielding her ears from her own terrified screams. It appears to be a case of suicide by SUV/Cop.



The body remains afixed with a rigid determination to the front of the vehicle. Upon reaching Cedar City and the breaking of dawn across the morning sky, they were able to peer into the dead yellow eyes of the owl. Contemplating removal of the body from the grill, their decision was made by the quickly growing crowd of excited Asian tourists. The handsome couple were forced to move on with the corpse still firmly implanted, amid the flash of high quality Asain cameras.



The couple made many friends as they crossed Southern Utah, Arizona, the sinful and ugly Nevada, into the unsavory village of Barstow California. People love to be entertained as they drive the Godforsaken desert. This day, their dreams were realized. Many hand gestures, smiles, gasps, and screams were exchanged. For the few tenderhearted still remaining in the soul parched Nevada, there were tears shed as the owl triumphantly sped at great speeds, past their waning vehicles.



Upon entering Barstow, the town where life no longer has meaning, the handsome couple prepared to lay their new friend to rest. Lovely Lady retrieved her secret stash of surgical gloves, secreted away in the secret compartment, for a scene such as this that she secretly knew would happen one day. Pressing them into the caring, yet strong and manly hands of Officer Handsome, she exclaimed, "Don't touch that foulness with your bare hands!" The bird was swiftly removed with little trouble, despite it's ability to ride the grill through four states. Pictures were taken to document the momentous occasion. The bird was toed by Officer Handsome just to be sure no signs of life remained after the arduous journey. Nope, it was truely dead. It was time for goodbyes and a few photo ops from the new crowd gathering at the Carl's Jr. Farewell friend that gave us such memories! Farewell.

If I Could Trade Places With Someone Else For A Day.....

I struggle right now whether to be straight about my answer here or not. There are lots of people that I wouldn't mind trying their life out for a day. I could live with being rich, I could live with having toned glutes and abs. Frankly I could live with being my toddler, which would mean drinking chocolate milk and hanging out naked all day. I wouldn't even mind being the love o' my crush. But if truth be told I would like to be someone.....and I don't even know who she is.......that has the energy to do it all; be a fantastic, sweet tempered mother, a smoking hot wife, a real Betty in the kitchen, the skill to bring all of my home decorating fantasies to fruition, the wherewithall to squeeze in some sort of intense jump training workout, and the baffling ability to be lead by the Spirit in all my doings....to know what it would be like to be able to do the right thing without feeling like every step I took wasn't happening underwater with weights around my extremities....to have peace in my home and in my heart, to not struggle with feeling like I am tempted beyond my capacity at every turn. I don't know who this person is.....but I wouldn't mind being her for a day. P.S. It would really be icing on the cake if she had great hair to boot.

A Letter To Someone That Has Injured Me Recently

This is another Challenge from my private blog.  Who thought this would be a good idea?  Probably a teen forwarded this challenge until I somehow stumbled upon it.  I gaurantee there are people out there that are publishing their 'smack down' on a pulic site.  'Not gonna do it.'   Plus I'm not really harbouring any seething hatred worthy of a public take down.
My only options are writing a letter to the child that pulled my hair too hard while giving me a great comb through (which I forced the child to do).  Or.....this bread bowl.


Dear Bread Bowl,


You crusty little sucker with your pious smirk. Your insides are soft and delicious. You hold things I greatly desire; chicken salad, creamy soups. You tempt me despite the high caloric intake. My weakness for you is repaid with your injurous crust slicing through my tender thumb. You will live long enough to regret this....as I rip you piece by piece to feed to the birds off of the pier.

                                                                                              Ever,
                                                                                                      M

Set Goals You Can Accomplish

On my private blog I am doing a 30 day challenge.  Today I am supposed to be posting my goals for the month.  Yeppers, I am going to post goals to accomplish in the next three days.  Some of you may feel that is cheating and I should post of  all of November.  Nah.  There is a much brighter possibility that I will accomplish a small list in a small amount of time.
Sometimes when I have to make a To Do list.....I like to add some things that I can already check off.  You know, just to get my engine started.  Help me feel like I can get something done.
My Short Term Goals For October
1.  Get out of bed.
2.  Dispose of dead bodies.
3.  Make soup for ward Trunk or Treat party. (This is looking sketchy.)
4.  Eat Chinese food.  (This is looking like a sure bet.)
5.  Launder every stitch of clothing not being worn or having already been put away.  (I will NOT make a goal to put all of the laundry away.  In essence setting myself up for failure.)
6.  Trick or Treat
7.  Halloween party
8.  Pack clothing, food, toys for 6 people for 7 days.
9.  Finish reading Abraham Lincoln Vampire Slayer.  (This is also looking like it will have a positive outcome.)
10.  Drive to Disneyland:)

My Favorite Super Hero

In honor of Halloween, my super fave holiday, I thought I would post my all time favorite Super Hero.  Yes, her patriotism shines through in this amazing outfit. 
I seriously love Wonder Woman.  Great hair, snappy boots, small waiste.........and the ability to super jump and make people tell the truth. Ooo ooo, can't forget the ability to change clothes by spinning.   I spent hours pretending to be Wonder Woman when I was little.  I once made a bionic jump from my bed with such power that I drove my knee into my nose and rendered myself bloody and helpless for an afternoon.  I sometimes contemplate purchasing an outfit like that and wearing it all day.  I think it would really give me the drive I need to finish the laundry.  I pretty much covet her rope of truth.  I would love to take people out to an old wooden shack and tie them up and ask them all sorts of questions.  Bahaha......the power!
Yep, I'm power hungry and I long for great hair.  It comes so naturally to Wonder Woman......and this is why I love her.

Cherry Clafoutis.......Ya, That's What I Said

I'm sitting here having an ADHD moment.  I have cleaned about 16 different places and I can't seem to nail it down to just one area.  I've finally given myself a pseudo break and I started looking through some cooking magazines I need to get rid of.  

I am looking at these pictures of food like some people probably like to look at porn.  I can't get enough and I don't want to throw them away.  Frankly I want to save them under my mattress. 
The problem is that I like food.  Ever since having the nuggets my tastes have developed quite nicely and I really enjoy trying new things, new flavors, new combinations.  The bigger problem is that the rest of my family including The Man, eat like toddlers.  Cut up pieces of meat.....beef, chicken, pork, maybe a cheese stick and some chips to top it off.  None of them will eat a thing if it has any kind of sauce or vegetable....most of them don't even like bread.  That is a mortal sin.

So, unless I want to make my own very tiny meal with food items that I don't usually keep on hand....er, you know there are only so many things you can do with a hunk of meat and plain white rice (YUCK!), I don't really eat the kinds of things that I dream of.
On our super awesome anniversary vacation (that wasn't sarcasm......I know, it's hard to tell sometimes) we had the best time!  But when it came to food we were doing a lot of meat based restaurants.  I love some good meat, don't get me wrong.  BUT I would like to branch out.  Finally, desperate to make my taste buds happy, Officer Handsome took me to a beautiful little French bakery.  The food was so beautiful I was near tears.  I loved my food.  I nearly had an affair right there in front of him.  My heart was very close to transfering it's affections.  And what pray tell did that handsome man eat?  The only normal thing on the menu...a BLT.  I literally had to block him out to be able to enjoy my food.  It was like eating with someone on a diet.  I wanted to give him a little smack on the tush!  And not in an anniversary kind of way!

So here's what I'm gonna do.  I'm gonna save my little pictures of pretty food, that I am sure tastes just as pretty.  I'm gonna put them right next to my bed.  And when Officer Handsome doesn't come home until VERY late at night because he was chasing a nut job down a deserted road in the dark, after she threw some drugs out the window........I'm gonna look at those pictures.

Dirty, Messy.......Life

Challenged by my dear, dear friend  http://liddell6.blogspot.com/ I decided to post about what makes me dirty, messy and loveable:)
This blog has never intended to make anyone feel inferior.  I am pretty sure that it never has.  I think I am fairly upfront about the fact that I am frantically trying to keep my head above water.  If anything you should surf to your next web address feeling uplifted that you are succeeding where I am trodden down in the mud. 
Thus I will leave you with 7 dirty, messy, strange things that I accept about myself.....yet find myself adoring anyway!

1)  I do not like even numbers as a general rule.  I find 4,6,8, etc...offensive in their desperation to be even.  I do not like that they try so hard.  It is very hard to watch. It makes me uncomfortable. (For some reason 22 does not bother me.  Infact I like it.)

2) I have phenominal pregnancies physically if you don't count that my hips disengage and I totter around like a pure bread dog, awaiting euthenasia.  Mentally I am a mess.  I teeter on the verge of hysterical, raging, mania.  As the birth nears I feel like a trapped animal.  I also feel like my agency has been taken away and I am being forced to proceed with something that I do not want to be part of.  I refuse to return to the doctor just to prove that no one can make me go into labor.  I am not a pleasant person to be around.....BUT after I have accepted the fact that I cannot physically or mentally survive without medical intervention (epidural!) and that warm, safe feeling courses through my lower body......there is a time in there that is the very greatest time in all the world.  And it is not the drugs I refer to.  When that little tiny nugget that is all yours is born, after such intense deranged fear and trama.  There is no other time that is more ROMANTIC!  It is even deeper than romance.  I don't think I have words really to say what I mean.  When it is just you and your little baby and your hubby........that is the deepest love and adoration, the safest and most loved I have ever felt.  And when I mourn not having more babies....this is the thing I mourn for.  Well, that and the irresistable baby.

3)  I love to sort money.  I seriously L.O.V.E. it.  Our family saves all of our change in a huge bucket for our vacations.  When it's time to dump it out and roll the coins I am stoked.  I love sorting it because there is no guess work.  You are either a penny, a nickle, a dime, or a quarter.  Really this speaks volumes about me.  I like when things fit neatly.  I don't like when there are things that I don't know where they belong.  Therefore there are stacks of mail and paper on my counter because I am undecided what to do with them.  I hate not knowing.......in general, all across the board.  Just lay it out for me. Do you love me, hate me, do I irritate you, what should I be when I grow up........the list of things I need to know are exhausting.

4)  I did this fantastic workbook which took me months.  It literally ravaged my soul.  I learned things about myself that I do not like....I do not like them with a firey intensity.  I crave adoration.  I am lazy and desire only what comes with ease.  I have dark recesses so terrible that they are like a red velvet lined coffin.  There are parts of me that want only what is impossible, or risk damnation.  No joke.  And guess what.  Although I was trodden down like a wet leaf in the mud.......I liked it.  I liked that I could look at all of those things and admit that I knew they were there, but that I am still a pretty rockin' chick.

5)  I have hideous, grotesque, Quasimodo like nodules that grow on my scalp.  They are not many in number, and not frequent. There you go.  I have surgically removed some myself and had others removed by someone more professional.  Now for everyone that was soured by my striking beauty and raged with jealousy over my perfection.....you know the sick truth.

6)  I love that texting was ever invented.  That is because I do not like making phone calls.  That is because I am afraid that I will interrupt someone doing something much more important than speaking to me.  And while their phone rings, they will look down, see my name on caller ID and roll their eyes.  As I have an issue with desperate numbers (see #1) I also do not wish to be seen as desperate.  This causes me to act aloof and uncaring when I am secretly not aloof and I care so very deeply.  I employ this trick on many people. 

7)  I once snuck into a Stake dance when I was underage.  I find this hilarious for more than one reason.  a)I lied to get into a church function.  I showed fake ID even. b) I did not dance.  c) When I was of age to attend, I could not have been dragged there.  d) I did not even attend school dances.....even though I assure you dear readers, I WAS asked.  Then why, pray tell did I do something so flat out dumb?  Because...and this is the real #7, I succumb easily to peer pressure.  When pressured by the right person, for the right or wrong reason....I'll cave, especially if I love you. 

Now go ahead and spill your guts on your own blog and PULEASE tell me all the messy little things about you so that I don't have writers remorse.

Indecent Proposal

I am easily wooed by verbal acuity.  Truly it is true.  I didn't date much in highschool (gasp).  My extreme social phobia and grade oriented obsession kept me busy enough.  But I would also like to point out that I didn't know very many funny guys.  Superman would counterpoint  that is because I didn't know ANY guys.  I would then counterpoint that that makes him a very lucky man.  He would then laugh in a derogatory way.  What I am really trying to get at is though I will never dismiss that Superman is a hot piece of work and I could chew him up when I hear his radio crackle, or I see him in his dress shirts.....it's really his verbal skills that caught my attention.  A good laugh with him is almost as fulfilling as a good.......book:) or a supersize box of Jr. Mints.  You know what I mean.  If he couldn't make me laugh I would have never married him.  Blue eyes can't compensate for everything.
Superman and I like to play our little games.  "Can you think of any couples that aren't equally matched in looks?"  That is our study in the bizarre social phenomena that people match up physically.  "What would you do with oodles of money?" That is our fantasy game of traveling the world and funding our kids Ph.D. educations.  "What would you do for X amount of money?"  This one is also known as 'Indecent Proposal'.  It was our latest endeavour.    I love these games because it's when my love is at his funniest.  I am ashamed to say that I theoretically allowed him to have an Indecent Proposal for only 1 million dollars.  I was easily bought.  I did however have stipulations.  She had to be over sixty and he had to throw up after. I felt like his obvious displeasure was worth a million.  He chivalrously said he wouldn't be bought when it came to me.  Who knew?  I mean seriously.......who knew? 
Finally after much heckling that I was easily bought, I had to take back what I said.  When push came to shove, for a mere $5,000,000 Superman would kiss an oxpecker (the symbiotic bird that cleans up rhinos and other such animals), or any other animal I could think of.  I don't really see either one of us being approached for that kind of dare though.  But I will put it out there in cyberspace.....if you've got 5 million to throw away......we'll kiss a 'butt bird' as my man calls it.

Failure

Well there we were, Superman and I, planted on our little chairs in Nursery.  The little darlings were fighting playing sweetly with the race tracks and dolly furniture.  The last little boy to arrive brought his own Book of Mormon.  He was very excited to have his own book of scripture.  We asked him if he wanted to hold it or put it on the table.  The overwhelming desire to play with the train consumed his little soul.  He put the book down.  Then from the corner of the room we hear a tiny little chipmunk voice say 'This isn't a scripture class anyway.'  Ah, well thank you special little spirit.....it had only been moments from my last failure and the taste was beginning to leave my mouth......I couldn't quite remember what it was like.  But now I do.  That's right, no scriptures are being used in our Nursery. 

Dumb Things That Make A Girl Happy

Try not to be shocked......there are some things I am not very good at.  I jokingly said the other day that I had just found #3623.  The joke is that the number is significantly higher.  The first 1000 probably having to do with lack of self control.
The thing I wasn't good at.....actual mountain biking.  I have ridden a mountain bike on surface roads and dirt hills for years.  I have not, until the other day, ridden on actual mountainous trails.  We decided to go camping before the actual holiday rolled around.  Thus avoiding a handful of things I don't like; other people, other people, and all of the things that come with other people.  Superman graciously lent me the use of his mountain bike.  I had wisely left mine at home hoping to avoid the coming situation.  Much of my problem had to do with the fact that his legs are a hair longer than mine and I was terrified of a bloody crash involving the 'boy bar' and my body parts.   The dirt was very loose and there were lots of large rocks.  I learned about applying both the front and back break.  Squealing ensued.  There are many appropriate times to welp out a good squeal.  This, among times such as; making cotton candy for school functions, flying down country roads on a four wheeler with a maniac at the wheel, being tasered in the dark by your spouse, using a got glue gun, being poked with sticks by your children and their friends........
I am happy to say that it ended well.  I only bailed into the bushes once.  I'm not good at mountain biking.  Not yet.
So there I am sitting by the campfire in my layers of clothing, including a fleece jacket, down vest, and some sort of Northface kind of get up.  The kids are surrounding me like I am beautiful Glinda the Good Witch and they are little Munchies.  Daddy is inside the trailer taking care of everything that I don't take care of when we camp (everything).  Along comes one of our camping neighbors with his 10 year old daughter in tow.  He asks if our parents are around.  I lit up like a firework.  You would have thought he just handed me a ridiculously large check and informed me of winning Publisher's Clearing House.  I was beyond stoked that he thought I was a child.  Granted the guy was trolling for drugs, which is what he wanted to ask our parents for.  So I guess he's not really a reliable sort of fellow.  Guess what........I DON'T CARE!!  Ya, someone mistook me for at least a teenager, AND it wasn't even dark! 
This bodes well for my goal..........Live to be 100, look 60, act 15.  I have a feeling I will need a lot of time to really work on the first 1000 things I'm not good at......all having very much to do with lack of self control.