"My life is difficult. I need more money"
The Expendibles (2010)
Not really about my life, but I do need more money. I just thought this was funny.
"I've come to know that our families are a canvas on which we paint our greatest hopes---imperfect and sloppy, for we are all amateurs at life, but if we do not focus too much on our mistakes, a miraculous picture emerges. And we learn that it's not the beauty of the image that warrants our gratitude---it's the chance to paint."
Sunday, November 27, 2011
I Used To Love Las Vegas
I used to love Las Vegas. Well, actually I still do love it. But I did had a very traumatic experience on this trip. Steve and I went to Las Vegas for the weekend for our anniversary, we always have a good time. However, you need to know that our good time is probably not your good time. We don't gamble, we rarely go to any shows, we don't drink. What we do is go to the movies. I know that's along way to drive just to go to the movies, but that's not the only thing we do. We also shop. We don't shop at the shops at Ceasars Palace or even the Miracle Mile shops. We go to Wal Mart, Big Lots, Deseret Industries, and all the fun funky little shops that we come across. That's weird, you may be thinking. What you need to know is that in our town we have K Mart. Yup, that's it just K Mart, And in the words of Dustin Hoffman, "K Mart sucks". We also go for drives to places we didn't know existed in Las Vegas, we love to just drive.
Okay, well here is where my very terrible experience comes in. We were in Wal Mart. Steve was off looking at TVs and I was looking at house stuff (my favorite things to look at). So, here I am minding my own business when a man, a very large man, strolls by with his son in the basket of his shopping cart. Now, I like people, I smile at everyone (even when I don't mean to it just happens) even those scary guys who look like they want to rob me. So this man and his son, who was about 3 years old, walk past and the little boy says to me, "Hi old lady". Honest, I am telling you the truth, and what to I do? I smile at him. On my face is a smile and in my mind I am thinking of retorts. Nothing comes to mind, I am just flabbergasted.
Now for the rest of the trip I am thinking, did my daughters lie to me and is my gray hair really not attractive, does it make me look old? I don't feel old....but I do avoid mirrors as much as possible so I'm not too sure what I look like. I rely on my daughters to tell me. Girls, have you not been telling me the truth?
Okay, first on my list of things to do tomorrow is go to the drugstore for hair coloring. Hope it helps.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving.....I love it. I love everything about it, from being with family, to eating wonderful food and.....hearing the stories from my Idaho daughter who could not be here for Thanksgiving. She hosted her husbands family this year; hence, the stories. I hope she posts some because her family drama is the stuff of legends. It's never anything horrible, it's just funny. Well, funny to me. Not so much to her! I would tell you about my Thanksgiving day and all the zilllions of things I am thankfu for but I'm afraid I have no time. Steve and I are off to Las Vegas (it's our 40th wedding anniversary) so we are going to go "play". Not play like gamble, play like have no responsibilities, yea!!! So, I hope everyone has fun on their Black Friday shopping day .
Judy, I hope you are still in bed enjoying the peace and quiet that comes when everyone else is fighting for bargins and you are just cozy and warm in the saftey of your own bed.
Judy, I hope you are still in bed enjoying the peace and quiet that comes when everyone else is fighting for bargins and you are just cozy and warm in the saftey of your own bed.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Internet Withdrawl
Hallelujah! We're back online. Our internet has been down for awhile. It seemed like months but in actuality it was only about a week. Really? Only a week?
This is our third wireless device. Our first two seemed to stop working and the kind and patient people at Verizon could not seem to get it back up, so they sent us our third one. Now, I am starting to wonder. Is it really the device or is it because of us? We are not very computer literate. Do you think that simply by virtue of us, Steve and me, trying to make it work we made it not work? I'm pretty sure that's the case. I am wondering how many of these things Verizon will send us before they get wise to us and our inability to work a computer.
This is our third wireless device. Our first two seemed to stop working and the kind and patient people at Verizon could not seem to get it back up, so they sent us our third one. Now, I am starting to wonder. Is it really the device or is it because of us? We are not very computer literate. Do you think that simply by virtue of us, Steve and me, trying to make it work we made it not work? I'm pretty sure that's the case. I am wondering how many of these things Verizon will send us before they get wise to us and our inability to work a computer.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Hobbits, Hobbits Everywhere
I was telling my Idaho grandson last month that I had bought the book The Hobbit months ago and haven't yet read it. He encouraged me to read it, telling me that it was a great book and I would love it.....Well, I had the book. I may as well read it. After all, I love the Lord of the Ring movies! So, I read it. And I LOVED it.
Bilbo Baggins is now one of my very favorite characters. You have to read it, you, too, will love it.
There's only one problem. Since I read the book I see hobbits everywhere and not only hobbits but dwarfs too.
I cannot go into town to run errands without seeing a funny little hobbit with huge, hairy feet. I was at church today, in my classroom with the door open. I was waiting for my primary students and as I was looking out the door what do you think I saw? YES, a hobbit. Now, I realize that this hobbit was not really a hobbit at all. He was just a slightly funny looking little 3 or 4 year old boy, but honestly he looked like a hobbit to me. However, I knew that he wasn't really a hobbit, he had shoes on.
Bilbo Baggins is now one of my very favorite characters. You have to read it, you, too, will love it.
There's only one problem. Since I read the book I see hobbits everywhere and not only hobbits but dwarfs too.
I cannot go into town to run errands without seeing a funny little hobbit with huge, hairy feet. I was at church today, in my classroom with the door open. I was waiting for my primary students and as I was looking out the door what do you think I saw? YES, a hobbit. Now, I realize that this hobbit was not really a hobbit at all. He was just a slightly funny looking little 3 or 4 year old boy, but honestly he looked like a hobbit to me. However, I knew that he wasn't really a hobbit, he had shoes on.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Survivor Sleep Method
I heard once, or perhaps I read that the older you get the less sleep you need. That's not to say that I am old. But I have come to believe that it may be true. I seem to have gotten into the habit of waking up at the crack of dawn no matter what time I go to bed. I like getting up early but sometimes I would rather not be up and about when it is still dark outside and the moon is still shining brightly in the night sky.
So....I have developed a method to help me get to back to sleep. Counting sheep has never worked for me, I need something a little more active. So, here it is. I call it "Survivor, Get Yourself Back To Sleep".
This is what I do. I play out the scenario in my head. Sometimes I get so tired winning all the challenges and making nice that I fall asleep right in the middle of tribal council. I imagine myself as a player in the game of Survivor. I am the player that everyone loves, you know the one, right? I am super survivor (without the cocky attitude).
I get up and start the fire in the morning, I go and hunt for food, and I can even catch fish (eat your heart out Ozzie). I am the go-to gal when someone needs to vent or when they need to tell someone a secret. They know I am a good secret keeper. My tribe mates know that I am a good listener and I will always give sage advise.
Oh, and I am on Coach's team (at least this season). I like Coach, don't ever call him Benjamin (he'll knock your teeth out--he said so). He really is a nice guy despite his weirdo outward persona. I think he's just lonely and misunderstood.
I am the ultimate survivor, the one who leads her tribe to victory after victory in every challenge. They need me and they know it. But, oh no, there is talk about the MERGE. We think it might be today, everyone is on edge.
We go to the challenge and, through no fault of mine! we lose. One of us is going to have to go to Redemption Island. I'm not especially worried, after all, my tribe needs me, like I said. We plod on back to camp, a little down hearted and as far as I can see no one is huddling together to strategize.
Oh no, time to go to tribal council. We gather our torches and start off for tribal council. Jeff is sitting, waiting for us. He begins to ask all of his provocative questions that he is so famous for, trying to get us to turn on each other. I'm still feeling pretty good.
Jeff calls for the vote. One by one we go up to cast our vote. Once we are all sitting again Jeff takes the lid off of the little ballot thingy and starts counting the votes. Sherry, Sherry, Shari (who the heck is she?), Sherry. The Eight person voted off. No way, I've been blindsided. I can't believe it, but at least I leave knowing that I don't have two immunity idols in my pocket. I get up and take up my torch and Jeff snuffs it out. My life is over. Well, my tribal life is over because, after all, fire is life.
As I leave I turn and smile sweetly at my former tribe mates. I tell them no hard feelings. All the while I am plotting my revenge. I leave them with that look that says I understand ( you rotten little backstabbers). I tell them good luck and hopefully I will see you again.
Now I leave and start my long, lonely walk to Redemption Island. Man, it's scary out there. It's dark and there are a lot of creepy noises and I want to run but I know the cameraman is right behind me so I walk confidently away.
I find my way to Redemption Island and who should I see? Ozzie. Oh crap. That's okay, I'm Super Survivor. I can beat him. He probably hasn't eaten in five days and is weak.
This is where my screen goes dark. I'm saving the rest of the story for the next time I wake up too early.
NEXT TIME ON SURVIVOR.
So....I have developed a method to help me get to back to sleep. Counting sheep has never worked for me, I need something a little more active. So, here it is. I call it "Survivor, Get Yourself Back To Sleep".
This is what I do. I play out the scenario in my head. Sometimes I get so tired winning all the challenges and making nice that I fall asleep right in the middle of tribal council. I imagine myself as a player in the game of Survivor. I am the player that everyone loves, you know the one, right? I am super survivor (without the cocky attitude).
I get up and start the fire in the morning, I go and hunt for food, and I can even catch fish (eat your heart out Ozzie). I am the go-to gal when someone needs to vent or when they need to tell someone a secret. They know I am a good secret keeper. My tribe mates know that I am a good listener and I will always give sage advise.
Oh, and I am on Coach's team (at least this season). I like Coach, don't ever call him Benjamin (he'll knock your teeth out--he said so). He really is a nice guy despite his weirdo outward persona. I think he's just lonely and misunderstood.
I am the ultimate survivor, the one who leads her tribe to victory after victory in every challenge. They need me and they know it. But, oh no, there is talk about the MERGE. We think it might be today, everyone is on edge.
We go to the challenge and, through no fault of mine! we lose. One of us is going to have to go to Redemption Island. I'm not especially worried, after all, my tribe needs me, like I said. We plod on back to camp, a little down hearted and as far as I can see no one is huddling together to strategize.
Oh no, time to go to tribal council. We gather our torches and start off for tribal council. Jeff is sitting, waiting for us. He begins to ask all of his provocative questions that he is so famous for, trying to get us to turn on each other. I'm still feeling pretty good.
Jeff calls for the vote. One by one we go up to cast our vote. Once we are all sitting again Jeff takes the lid off of the little ballot thingy and starts counting the votes. Sherry, Sherry, Shari (who the heck is she?), Sherry. The Eight person voted off. No way, I've been blindsided. I can't believe it, but at least I leave knowing that I don't have two immunity idols in my pocket. I get up and take up my torch and Jeff snuffs it out. My life is over. Well, my tribal life is over because, after all, fire is life.
As I leave I turn and smile sweetly at my former tribe mates. I tell them no hard feelings. All the while I am plotting my revenge. I leave them with that look that says I understand ( you rotten little backstabbers). I tell them good luck and hopefully I will see you again.
Now I leave and start my long, lonely walk to Redemption Island. Man, it's scary out there. It's dark and there are a lot of creepy noises and I want to run but I know the cameraman is right behind me so I walk confidently away.
I find my way to Redemption Island and who should I see? Ozzie. Oh crap. That's okay, I'm Super Survivor. I can beat him. He probably hasn't eaten in five days and is weak.
This is where my screen goes dark. I'm saving the rest of the story for the next time I wake up too early.
NEXT TIME ON SURVIVOR.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Jury Duty
Well, Steve wasn't able to avoid jury duty so I sure hope they aren't not using any big words!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Help, I Need Somebody....not just anybody
Holy Cow, I really am a blogging virgin. It's never so clear to me as when I'm trying to change my background. When I need help who do I call? My daughter. Honestly, she is as patient as I am impatient. But it dawned on me tonight why she is so willing to tell me the same things over and over again. It's because I am fodder for her crazy mother stories. But that's okay because I think she finally gets tired of telling me the same thing a millions times and then she does my work for me. I don't really plan it that way, but I do always hope it will turn out that way. So thank you, Erin, I hope you never get tired of me and my insipid questions.
Ode to a Date Roll
Christmas is in the air. The minute the weather turns cold I feel the Christmas spirit and part of the spirit to me is baking yummy goodies and making delicious candies. I don't make as much as I used to, but I still have my favorites. One of my favorites, at least to eat, is the ever elusive Date Roll that my mom used to make every year.
Now, the reason I call this candy elusive is because the ability to make it has eluded me for years.
When my mom made candy she was not the candy thermometer kind of candymaker, she was the drop a little bit of the boiled candy in a cup and see if it was at a soft or hard ball stage.
When I make boiled candies I need all the modern helpers that I can get, mostly I need someone to made them for me. But, alas, the trying to make them is most of the fun. Or so I always used to think. This one candy may have changed my attitude toward that idea.
I must say, however, that I love this candy so much that it's worth the trouble. So here is my salute to the Date Roll:
Ode to a Date Roll
by Emma's daughter (who cannot make a date roll to save her life)
The color's not right, it tastes like a shoe.
I honestly, truly, don't know what to do.
I went to the store, bought all the right stuff,
And yes, I'm pretty sure I bought quite enough.
I carted my groceries out of my car,
Into the house and onto the bar.
I got out the thermometer, the pot, and the spoon.
I know that the grandsons would both be home soon.
And, oh, they would marvel. They'd oooh and they'd aahhh
At this wonderful creation as soon as they saw.
But what did they see when they walked through the door?
My pot and my spoon and myself on the floor.
I give up, I give up I said in a state.
You can all go fishing and use it at bait.
So now I give up, I won't do it again,
At least til next year when, who knows, I might win.
Now, the reason I call this candy elusive is because the ability to make it has eluded me for years.
When my mom made candy she was not the candy thermometer kind of candymaker, she was the drop a little bit of the boiled candy in a cup and see if it was at a soft or hard ball stage.
When I make boiled candies I need all the modern helpers that I can get, mostly I need someone to made them for me. But, alas, the trying to make them is most of the fun. Or so I always used to think. This one candy may have changed my attitude toward that idea.
I must say, however, that I love this candy so much that it's worth the trouble. So here is my salute to the Date Roll:
Ode to a Date Roll
by Emma's daughter (who cannot make a date roll to save her life)
The color's not right, it tastes like a shoe.
I honestly, truly, don't know what to do.
I went to the store, bought all the right stuff,
And yes, I'm pretty sure I bought quite enough.
I carted my groceries out of my car,
Into the house and onto the bar.
I got out the thermometer, the pot, and the spoon.
I know that the grandsons would both be home soon.
And, oh, they would marvel. They'd oooh and they'd aahhh
At this wonderful creation as soon as they saw.
But what did they see when they walked through the door?
My pot and my spoon and myself on the floor.
I give up, I give up I said in a state.
You can all go fishing and use it at bait.
So now I give up, I won't do it again,
At least til next year when, who knows, I might win.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Do It Yourself or, as it is known in our house, Are You Crazy?
"The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits"
Albert Einstein
Have I mentioned before that I am a diy-er? I love working with my hands and I love doing projects around the house. I tell myself that it's in my blood. My dad is a "builder", he can build anything. When there is something that needs to be done around the house I like to do it myself, partly because I want it done right now, I'm rather impatient.
But, alas, my memory is short. I tend to forget about the last project and the one before that one that went awry.
So, to my present project. Earlier this year our "handyman guy" built us some floor to ceiling bookshelves (I'm pretty sure I could have done it myself). I have since decided that I need more storage space, I always need more storage space, where I could hide things away. So on goes the lightbulb in my head and I figure that I could put doors on the bottom part of the bookshelf. It would look pretty and give me my much needed storage space. Easy, right? Anyone could do it, right? I can do that, right?
Okay, so out comes my measuring tape, I really don't know why I bother with that thing, it never works right.
I measure and mark and have Steve set up the table saw. Oh my, sorry, I just broke out in a cold sweat. Just saying Steve and table saw in the same breath sends shivers down my spine.
You really have to know Steve, he can do a lot of things. Carpentry is not one of them. He's a shortcut kind of guy whose mantra is "good enough". Sorry honey, using warped wood that you rescued from the dump is not "good enough".
However, I let him use the warped dump wood because I know that his cuts are not going to be quite what they should be and I will have to go to Home Depot and buy real wood anyway. And what the heck, the practice wouldn't hurt, would it?
Where was I? Oh yes, he set up the saw, on the ground. On the ground we have lots of gravel. Steve is wearing sandals, and I should mention that he has his 6'4" frame bent over the saw. He is, very carefully, pushing the wood through the blade, when his foot slips.
This is the scenario that plays out in my head in a span of seconds:
Steve slips, his head makes contact with the blade. It's like a scene out of a slasher movie except for the fact that we don't have a villain. He's screaming and I am standing unable to move for several seconds. I finally rip off my shirt, not to worry, I dressed in layers today, and press it to his head.
Okay, I'm going back to that happy place where none of these things happened, happy thoughts, happy thoughts!
After my little "mind movie", DIY as taken on a new meaning for me.
The only thing I am going to do myself now, when it comes to power tools, is call someone whose expectations of themselves do not exceed their abilities. Well, at least until the next project comes along that I KNOW I can do.
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