20 September 2006

dayquil anonymous

Hi, my name is Emma and I'm slamming Nyquil for my stupid sinus headcold.

Hi Emma!

I have an update to a post from a couple weeks ago. I kinda left you in suspense and now your life will be complete with the resolution of said post.

Bear with me, my head started throbbing yesterday morning and hasn't stopped. Coincidently, my retina is about to blow out my eye socket. I've also ingested enough Ibuprofen that I could feasibly cut off my head and still smile & laugh about it. The Dayquil is getting to me too, so if I don't make any sense, well, you're used to it anyway........hey, look butterflies!

I have finally mastered Wonder Woman's spin, although I've turned into Betty Freaking Crocker instead of a busty Amazon warrior woman in star-spangled unders and boots to die for. I don't know how I went downhill so fast, but it started last week when my in-laws gave me a food processor for my birthday. No one could have seen the outcome.

As it goes, this is no ordinary food processor. It's 500 hp of Black and Decker polished guts and steel that grates, slices, dices, kneads and as an added bonus, also chips small trees and can handle landscape mulching.

This is the pinnacle of kitchen perfection.

There I was, standing for half an afternoon in euphoric glee mesmerized by the whirling blades that screamed back at me, "I am magnificent! Watch as I perfect that slice of dairy goodness people call Swiss. BEHOLD! I am that thing of beauty that babies laugh at, that men stare at in bewilderment, and what women only envision in the deep recesses of their Martha Stewart, cordon bleu fantasies."

Thank goodness, Mr. Coffee was able to snap me out of it with an intervention, talking me down from my 5th gallon of homemade salsa. I still get chills just looking at the machine and it's clean lines and shiny buttons, taunting me from it's corner of the kitchen. (By the way, if anyone wants pureed birthday cake, it's in the top shelf of the fridge. )

IN other news....

School for me should be done. It isn't. This bugs me so much that I'm going to name my first ulcer after the school mascot. My school even sent me this letter:

Dear Mrs. Sometimes,

Although you are an exemplary student, it would help to get off your duff, get your poop in a group and send in the course work FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET HOLY PANCAKES!! We do keep in mind it is a work-at-your-own pace course, although we somehow assumed that you were human instead of part snail. We are here to help with any questions you may have. Have a nice day.

Acme Medical Transcription School

PS. You have a cool blog

Well, naturally!

KIDS: Three of four kids are in school full time. It's odd to have the house so quiet during the day albeit a welcome change. Ellie and I can do things, like chop and dice. Why watch Elmo or read a book when you can mince an entire onion in 4.2 seconds?

After applying everywhere I could think of for minimum rage, I will not stoop to another horrible interview and am resolute to working in a bookstore. The last three times I have worked in bookstores, they offer to keep me on after the holidays. Emma, in a bookstore is like a chubby kid on diet in a candy store on allowance day without his mom. Lord knows you can't make it out without your hands full.

And I'm not talking about my favorite TV show with Hugh Laurie. I'm talking about SOLD!! I will know more on Friday or Monday at latest, but I'm already hoarding boxes. I believe if all goes well, we will be in a new place by Oct end. Nothing is set in stone, yet...

We are starting back to church. I don't like me when I'm not immersing myself into what God wants in my life. I get in a bad funk. Even if you aren't a church goer, you can understand feeling like you are not living up to your purpose. I have been feeling like my world is getting small and my life example is crap. That has to change.

I've learned let sleeping dogs lie, even the forgiven ones. Not that I'm calling anyone a dog, per say. Just forgive and go forward. Onward and upward. Speaking of onward, my mother is coming to visit from sunny California come October. Because selling a house and moving isn't enough stress.

I'm not talking about it because I'm mad, not at Mr. Coffee, but...putting it mildly, construction trades stink like a bean-loving skunk devouring Limberger cheese at the porta potty in front of a paper mill.

I want to blog every day and with 'other moms' doing it, I wonder how dirty their houses really are. I decided to visit more blogs but until I move, I shall be a bit scarce. No, I am not leaving my blog, I enjoy it too much. I enjoy getting all my stuff moved more. Speaking of stuff, I leave you with a word from George Carlin,

"Ever notice how your stuff is stuff and other peoples' stuff is crap? Hey, move your crap out of the way so I can put my stuff down!"

16 September 2006

car talk

I was picking up my daughter from school last week and this was the car in front of me. Cute isn't it? I thought it was possibly a antique Mini or a smallish Morris Minor. I'd love to know what kind of vehicle this is. Rather like a 1950's chevy washed in a hot water wash and dried at high heat. It must be nice, though. When it breaks down you can carry it home.

Actually, I just want to win the stapler.

**POST posting: Thank you Granny!! The vehicle is a Nash Metropolitan.

14 September 2006

dermabond girl

I just got a bill in the mail. $518.80 but allow me to back up....

One hot day in the last week in August, I mustered the strength to venture out to the grocery with all four kids. We were out of kitchen staples, and since I can't magically create a four course meal from canned beets and bamboo shoots, I had to go. When I arrived home, I finished unloading the van and was telling the kids to come in the house. Ellie, my 3 yr old, barrels down the driveway full speed. She trips at the bottom and falls headfirst onto the concrete. I was almost sick because I knew she hit hard.

She will be okay, but the hollow thunk of her head hitting the ground...uhhh, so horrifying. I ran over and picked her up, fearing the worst. She had cut her forehead and nothing else was bleeding, just superfical scrapes. I still don't know how she didn't scrape her nose and bang her teeth, let alone her hands and elbows.

We took her to Urgent Care still bleeding from a small but deep head cut. They cleaned it out, examined her and used Dermabond (medical super glue) instead of stitches. Oh, but she was a trooper. 3 hours later and way past her bedtime we made it home.

Just yesterday, I finally got my bill. I'm tempted to drive over there and show them Ali-style what I think would qualify as $518.80 in medical bills.

Dermabond & topical skin numbing (superglue & Lanacane) cost $58

Surgical supplies (aka cotton swabs, two sets of surgical gloves and one band-aid) $138

Pulmonary Function (checking her oxygen intake) $30

Urgent Care Clinic fees (walking on their carpet, waiting in the germy waiting room, talking for 5 minutes to a receptionist that hates her job) $97.00

Professional Fees (the Nurse Practitioner) $195

No wonder I am unable to get affordable health care. I still am going to contest this.

13 September 2006

short snorts

Being a novice writer, I have to share these oh-most-hilarious funny short stories.

JLR over at Impatient Chicken posted on this and I wanted to share some of my favorites from the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest ~ 2006 Results. They are WORTH the read.

"Detective Bart Lasiter was in his office studying the light from his one small window falling on his super burrito when the door swung open to reveal a woman whose body said you've had your last burrito for a while, whose face said angels did exist, and whose eyes said she could make you dig your own grave and lick the shovel clean."
Jim Guigli
Carmichael, CA

"It was a dreary Monday in September when Constable Lightspeed came across the rotting corpse that resembled one of those zombies from Michael Jackson's "Thriller," except that it was lying down and not performing the electric slide."
Derek Fisher
Ottawa, ON

"Despite the vast differences it their ages, ethnicity, and religious upbringing, the sexual chemistry between Roberto and Heather was the most amazing he had ever experienced; and for the entirety of the Labor Day weekend they had sex like monkeys on espresso, not those monkeys in the zoo that fling their feces at you, but more like the monkeys in the wild that have those giant red butts, and access to an espresso machine."
Dennis Barry
Dothan, AL

"I know what you're thinking, punk," hissed Wordy Harry to his new editor, "you're thinking, 'Did he use six superfluous adjectives or only five?' - and to tell the truth, I forgot myself in all this excitement; but being as this is English, the most powerful language in the world, whose subtle nuances will blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel loquacious?' - well do you, punk?"
Stuart Vasepuru
Edinburgh, Scotland

More on past winners of the contest.

11 September 2006

Moms Want Dads To Know

I was over at a blog that wanted my opinion as a Mom and my comment was looking like a post.

Make your way over to What Moms Want Dads to Know About Them and make a comment.

and for DADS!! Men Behaving Dadly. You can comment on what you wish Moms knew about Dads over there.

As a mother of a 9, 7, 6, and 3 year old and a wife of 13 years, here is my contribution to the things I wish Dads knew about Moms:

1) Please don't call me Mommy unless you are talking to the kids about me. There is nothing in calling me Mommy or Mom that hollers out, "You are the sexy, attractive, friend & love of my life." Call me crazy, but the idea of you calling me the same name as my mother-in-law does nothing for the libido.

2) Since I do not thank you for going to work everyday, I do not expect thank you's for watching the kids, scrubbing toilets and doing errands. Regardless, everyone wants to feel appreciated. The appreciation you show toward me does pay forward and usually unconsciously on my part; a cleaner house, a more cheerful hello coming home, more favorites for dinner.....and sometimes in the most delightful ways. ~wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more~

3) Asking me 'what did you do all day' before you find out what kind of day I had can be detrimental to your health. Please find out why I had a non-productive day before the Spanish Inquisition. I won't (and shouldn't) dump on you the minute you walk in the doorway.

4) My work does not end when you walk in the door. Yours doesn't either. I feel when you come home, I have reinforcements! We both chose this life with children, we should participate in the good and the difficult parts. This means teamwork which brings me to #5.

5) Help us stay unified when it comes to discipline. This way, our children won't think that one of us is a pushover and the other is the bad guy.

6) When I am sick, I cannot always do my regular mom duties. I wish I could call in sick from my Mom job but I cannot. Just because I am not in my bed doesn't take away my 101 degree fever and keep me from throwing up.

7) Every Mom needs some time to herself. I am no exception and am much more understanding when you want to the bookstore or go out with the guys.


Much to his credit, Mr. Coffee knows these things well. I am very thankful we are able to communicate these bits of wisdom. Possibly, I will get him to write some down from Dad's point of view and I will post them. He probably won't have as many Monty Python references, but insightful nonetheless.

06 September 2006


It's interesting having a mix of boys and girls and most importantly when it's come to potty-training. Mr. Coffee, being the shrewd negotiator he is, concocted a plan from the beginning that would unequivocally spare him the duties of potty-training 'the girls'. He would in turn, take care of 'the boys'. This was an easy arrangement for him due to the fact that our first born happened to be a baby girl.

As it went, I accomplished the lion's share of potty-training her. I taught her bathroom etiquette and procedure, cleaned the messes, and explained to her the anatomically correct names for her body. Later, for good measure, I followed our daughter's birth with two sons.

Who's the potty-trainer now? OH, yeah. Who's your MOMMY!!!!??

To his credit, Mr. Coffee never did complain about the arrangement and of course, would quickly correct me when using inaccurate anatomical names such as "pee pee" or "bits". I being the prude I am, when rare occasion called for it, speaking outloud any anatomical names proved difficult. It wasn't until I was in my 20's that I discovered that Missionary Style did not mean I was going to marry someone in the ministry. But I digress...

My son, armed with this Grey's Anatomy schooling made this story priceless.

Once upon a time many moons ago, my 4 year old son was injured. Slowly, he made his way down the hallway in obvious distress. It was the distinct sound of pain that caught my attention, sounding like someone had lost a toe or possibly an eye during a brotherly wrestling match.

"Son, are you okay?"

He was bent over and cradling himself appropriately.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH, " his moan continued, "ooohh, Aiden hurt me!!"

"What happened?" I asked, fully prepared to hear a new story of how to injure yourself in a 10 x 10 room. Jumping off the top bunk? Swinging from the closet hanger rod? Sticking your head in a dresser drawer?

"Aiden hit me in the peanuts with his knee."

I quickly retorted under my breath while snickering, "Look on the bright side, at least he didn't get you in the galls."