Those Dirty Dogs!

It's the new media rant and it goes like this:

"Health Buzz: Pediatrician Group Wants Killer Hot Dogs Remodeled"

Let's break this down a bit. Hot dogs are full of chemicals. The meat is the leftover parts of animals that you'd really rather not think about. I don't even trust the "all beef" label...beef shouldn't look like that. They're just gross. They're certainly not healthy for your body.

So here's my beef with the whole Killer Hot Dog issue (aside from the sheer stupidity of it)...if they're gonna push for warning labels on the packages, can't they at least include something like "If you don't die from choking on this putrid stuff, you still stand the chance of dying a much more slow and painful death due to all the crap we put in these things. Or you might die from the toxins infused into your body to treat the cancer you get from repeatedly abusing your body by ingesting filth. Just sayin'."

But ya'll just go ahead and re-engineer a staple of the American Diet. Keep those kids from choking to death. Heck, make a law mandating that parents teach their latch-key kids a Self-Heimlich, so they can survive another day to play that xbox 360 till Dad gets home from work at 9PM, just to be on the safe side. We need more laws telling parents how to keep kids safe, don't we?

Or, listen to mom and don't goof off when you're eating hot dogs.



Oh, Good Grief.




*disclaimer* I do buy hotdogs for our camping trips and occasional summer backyard cookouts. I'm not a purist. In any given year, I may purchase a total of 8 packages of hotdogs. I have to smother them with so many condiments that the hotdog disappears. I would just eat the relish, but people would think I'm weird. And I ALWAYS cut them up for my little ones.

Happy Monday to Me!

Our local paper has a trivia-type photo game to play. A photographer will shoot a picture of any object of his or her choosing that is located somewhere in the county. They publish a portion of the photo in the newspaper, and the object is to guess what you're viewing. The next day, they publish the entire photo. I have no idea what you win if you guess correctly. Probably nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done.

In honor of this game, I give you the following section of a photo I took.



Know what it is yet? If you guessed Swiss cheese, you're wrong.




If you guessed "Plastic diaper cover accidentally tossed in dryer", you win! Congratulations! Much like our newspaper, the gift you get is your own satisfaction.

Now, before you go thinking I'm all green and whatnot, never fear. I'm neither overly environmentally sensitive, OR stupid ambitious enough to use cloth diapers. Did that with my first two to save money. Discovered I'd rather be slightly sane than rich. Switched to She Who Must Be Hated By Eco-Conscious Wackos.

The real reason I have had these crinkly panties, as they're referred to in our house, is because not only am I of the Anti-Global Warming Frenzy lot of Americans...I am also a card-carrying member of the Moms Who Don't Change Diapers in the Middle of the Night Club. And the Save Yourself Some Laundry Loads By Putting Crinkly Panties Over Your Daughter's Diaper Just In Case She Drinks Too Much Before Bedtime Club.

What dumb thing have YOU done lately?

I Need Sunshine On a Cloudy Day

Does it matter that it was 7 PM last night before I realized my underwear were on wrong side out?

I hate cold weather. It's depressing. It makes me not care about things like clothing...and eating right...

Now, if I can figure out which way to put on my unmentionables, maybe I'll stroll on over to Taco Bell and let them help me lose some weight.



--------------

(FYI...I'm laughing as I type this...no deadly weapons are in sight, so don't call the Stress Unit.)

Today Is Brought To You By Hasbro and By The Letters "C,E,R,E,A" and "L".

Because I don't want anyone to think our house is boring and monotonous, I bring you this morning's kitchen floor offerings.



See...we have colorful neon Playdough, sparkly leftovers from New Year's Eve party hats, and strawberry shredded wheat, tossed onto the floor courtesy of an irritated 17 month old little girl. This is oh-so-lovingly swept into the center of a square of my flooring, size 6"x6".

Yes, I have bigger plans for my New Year than constantly sweeping up crumbs. Tomorrow, I move on to Airing Dirty Laundry. Stay tuned.

I Know I'm Petty, But...

Could SOMEone please explain to me WHY Facebook status updates like "So-and-So is off to watch TV!!!!!" (buy groceries, cook dinner, flush the toilet - you get the point) get a bazillion exclamation points and 27,000 people "liking" it?!?

What is so stinkin' awesome about Sally Somebody going about her everyday activities? Do I know the only 3 people in the world who can come up with something interesting, hilarious, disturbing or challenging? Granted, I don't have 8,439 friends. My requirement for approving friend requests is that I actually know you, spend time with you, used to spend time with you and now don't due to life's circumstances, or attend some type of church/school/community activity with you. Maybe if I approved every person that ever lived, thought about living, or has still-living relatives, I could find someone with a life more interesting than the local real estate transfer log!

Worse - the people who "like" the boring activities! What?!? Can't you cook? Don't you shop? Never heard of coupon clipping? Darn it, people! Get lives! Read a book! Go skiing! Spend an afternoon on the Elderly Bench in Main Action Alley at Walmart! (Yes, there IS such a name. Gag.) Volunteer to wash windows at the local jail! Do SOMEthing, so you don't think your best friend from first grade is so dang great because she remembers how to blow her nose! (Unless she's had a stroke, in which case, great for her that she's recovered that important skill...it's ever so much better than using her sleeve, but do you REALLY believe that she had a stroke and forgot how to blow her nose but she is at Astounding Tutoring Farmer level in Farmville? You're so gullible!)

And what's with the church-sign mentality for status updates? ACK! If I want a Cotton-Candied Positive, Morally Uplifting, Spiritually Emotional, Biblically-Inaccurate, Intelligence-Devoid bit of Drivel, I'll drive by 94% of the churches in my county and pick my favorite. (Or listen to any number of popular televangelists, but we won't go there tonight - I don't want to lose my supper.)

And don't you DARE tell me what you're cooking for dinner! I Do. Not. Care. that you're considered the greatest chef since Teflon came along...feed your family. Leave us out of the meal planning! We all know you eat......

Geez, people! Watch a movie, and write down a funny line you hear. Quote it as your status. Not only will it make you appear funnier than you are - it will make people wonder what drug you just ingested.

Quiet, Please

Our television is on way more than I'd like for it to be. Actually, I'd dearly love to toss it to the curb.

In trying to get Dylan to remember where the volume button is located, I taught him to start at the far right button and count over three. (That's the DOWN button, as the only time we need the UP button is when a train is going by the house.)

I just overheard him saying "One, two, three" and miraculously, Bob the Tomato is no longer bellerin' into my living room about Larry the Cucumber's poor choices.



Encouragement that not everything I've done lately is a screw up.




- Image from google

Do Age and Gravity Mess With These, Too?

I believe the Bible. I believe it is 100% accurate. I believe it is God's word to us. I believe that humans misinterpret it. Often.

Some times, the way things come full circle just cracks me up.

As a setup, please note that I spent my primary school years in a church-run school that sometimes took Scriptures just a wee bit out of context, and when that didn't work, they'd just make stuff up. Well-intentioned, perhaps, but thank goodness I have a brain and can figure this stuff out now!

There were lots of rules, especially about how one was supposed to dress. (Well, let me clarify. Mostly, the rules were about how FEMALES were supposed to dress.) I'm OK with rules, to an extent. I understand that law and order are paramount. I can tolerate minor irritation for the greater good. My parents didn't particularly agree with all the regulations, but they felt the good outweighed the bad.

So -

Monday through Friday, I donned my dress with sleeves below the elbows and length three inches past mid-knee. I was too young for makeup, but that wouldn't have been allowed, anyway. I left my forbidden open-toed shoes in my closet, and tamed my uncut, brunette tresses with Aquanet. Allowed color, automobiles, and running water, we confused some people who thought we were Amish.

Occasionally, we'd ask for the Biblical source of these dress standards.

On why women shouldn't cut their hair - "A woman's hair is her glory" 1 Corinthians 11:15 (King James Version) But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.

On why women shouldn't wear pants - "Women shouldn't wear men's clothing" Deuteronomy 22:5 (King James Version) The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God.

On why jewelry wasn't allowed - "Women don't need jewelry to be beautiful" 1 Timothy 2:9-10 (King James Version) In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.

My arguments against this rationale fell on deaf ears.

"If a woman's hair is her glory, then why do you twist yours up in a knot on the top of your head so no one can see how long it is?"

"Back in Bible times, I thought men wore long robes."

"Why is a strand of fake pearls around my neck bad, but you can wear the same kind on a barrette on your knotted head?"

All of those verses, when read in context, are logical. When used to validate the edicts...eh...not so much.

Remember I mentioned that if a Bible verse justifying an ordinance couldn't be found, things were just made up? Here's where it turns comical.

One of the tidbits that was shared along the way was the reasoning (?!?) behind the necessity of sleeves covering elbows. Apparently, elbows make men think about breasts.

There are verses in the Bible about breasts. Lots about sexuality, both proper and improper. Men's thoughts are mentioned a few times. But no where do I recall reading about elbows. It could be mentioned in Song of Solomon, I suppose, since he mentions just about every other body part. As beautifully gifted as he was with poetry, I'm not sure he would include elbows and breasts in the same sentence.

Over the years, I've conducted research. I've plunked my elbows on the table and asked people "What do these look like?" The eye-rolling and chortling that follow the explanation grows funnier the more I age.

But about that full circle thing I opened this post with...

Actually, I thought the breast-elbow connection was complete hogwash. Until my three year old son confirmed it.

Headed to the shower recently, I was holding the clothing I intended to wear for the day, including a particular undergarment worn on the upper portion of the female anatomy. Nothing slips by Dylan, and even though it was partially covered by my jeans and t-shirt, his vision honed right in.

"Hey Mom, are you gonna wear that on your elbows?"

The Annual Stalking of Bambi

Today is Testosterone Day in Ohio. More conventional people may also designate it as Orange Day, but I'm not real conventional. When you can sense it just by opening a living room window, it's T-Day.

I'm referring, of course, to Opening Day for deer hunting season.

It's guaranteed that if I drive anywhere in the next week, I will see several deer hanging from trees, dripping on garage floors, and lolling over pickup tailgates. (Especially the bucks. You NEVER put your tailgate up when you get a buck!)

Life demanded that I make an errand run today. My route took me past a house that is apparently a hot spot for hunters. Two mega-duty trucks pulled out in front of me, thick black exhaust rolling from the jumbo pipes rising above the cabs. Two more trucks waited for me to pass, so they could join the cavalcade. The drivers and passengers were sporting the universally recognized neon orange. One by one, they all turned the same corner. I envisioned fourteen overgrown boys piling out of the monster machines, smacking each other on the back, popping the lids off their Michelobs and reliving the take-down of the 12-pointer swinging from the tree in the front yard.

These men may or may not have surprised their wives with a bouquet of roses in the past fifteen years or spent a dime on a family movie night. Vacations to Disney or the Grand Canyon may be a foreign concept. But! By golly, they've had this week of vacation approved at work since the first of January. Every year. Without fail.

When I was in high school, all of my male classmates who hunted were allowed to take a free day on Opening Day. The notion of allowing the females the liberty to enjoy a day for shopping wouldn't have been entertained. Sure, the men were hunting and providing for the family. But we all know that's not why men pull on their boots and Carhartts and perch precariously in homemade tree stands in subzero weather waiting for the elusive stag to have an unfortunate meeting with the wrong end of a shotgun. The fact that the family gets a little deer jerky and enjoys a steaming pot of venison stew is a side benefit.

Several months ago, Tom brought home an eight point buck head that one of his friends at work had parted with. The friend was cleaning out the Man Cave. I'm not, by far, the best decorator in the world, but our house is not a log cabin or in the country. I wasn't thrilled with this monstrosity hanging on my wall. I appreciate benevolence, but...

Tiffany was even unsure what to think about it.




We recently came to an agreement, with the help of an acquaintance. This guy had reason to step on our front porch while the Thing languished in the bad weather, and upon noticing, he declared an immediate need for it. He desired to own it to the extent that he offered us his own deer, should he get one this year. When we didn't respond to his offer quickly enough, he increased it to include a really nice Pack-n-Play for Tiffany.

The Pack-n-Play is lovely girly colors and suits Tiffany perfectly. We're waiting for the call that will fill our freezer. And somewhere, there's an eight point buck hanging on a cabin wall, with a bunch of strong, tough Davy Crocketts beating their chests and telling fish...I mean...deer stories.

Who Messed Up My Peanut Butter?

Seriously, am I the only one in the house that can successful remove peanut butter from the jar, without it looking like this? What are they using, a pitchfork?!?







Around here, it's typically referred to as "B-Bot" - one of the first words Dylan learned to say when he came to live with us. Spoonful upon spoonful, he never gets tired of it. (Thank goodness! It sure makes MY life easier!)




When I was little, I told my Dad if Heaven doesn't have PBJ's, I don't wanna go. While I've since grown up in my spiritual thinking a wee bit, I'm still hoping I get to lick grape jam off the spoon when I'm looking at my reflection in the gold streets. ;-)

To All Rude People, In Regards to My Daughter's Size

Dear people:

This is mother. Normally, I'm friendly, but today I'm a little irritated with ya'll.

My daughter, while she does have her moments, is generally not a rude person. She would most likely not walk up to you and say things like:

"You're fat."

"You're short."

"You need to eat less."

Because, while those things may all be quite true, she isn't mean. (Unless she's on drugs. Then all bets are off. Mean, or humorous. You decide.

She probably also wouldn't say things like:

"You have on 2 shirts."

"Your clothes match."

"Your hair looks funny."

...or any number of other simple observations...

Because, for one thing, she figures you have a mirror, and you can see these things for yourself, if you bother to use that mirror.

So let me give you some advice.

Shut up!

It's not necessary for you to point out that she's tall, slim, and fashionably dressed.

Oh, and also...

Quit asking me if I feed her.

Or I'm going to punch you.

Sincerely,
Mom

More Things That Shouldn't Be

Something just doesn't seem quite right here...





At a place where I can fill up my tank...




and get the van washed...




I can also use my food stamps. (Well, if I had food stamps, that is...)

Yeah, plenty of great healthy food at this place!! (I'm warning ya...do NOT get me started on making me pay for my neighbor's pop and potato chips! It won't be pretty, and at the very least, the innocent clerk at the grocery store should get the striped shirt for free if she has to play referee!)

But first, I'd like to suggest a consultation with a marketing professional, or maybe hiring someone slightly skilled in creating coherent signage.

Am I getting the special of the day, a good car wash? (Why would I want a bad one?)
Is gas only $2.00? Is that per gallon or per tank?
Are the cigarettes the deal, or are we playing some kind of 3-pack card game?
Is there a qualification process for the free lighter?



Am I the only one around here that thinks this is a little wacked?!?

The Real Thing

If Reality TV, and specifically Contest-Type Reality TV, has it's way with America, soon there will be no free time to leave the 63-inch HD set and go to the bathroom. The recent season premieres of several popular shows proves my point. "Tune in to watch the 3-night season premiere of Dancing With The Stars!"

Wow! 3 nights to view the return of a show, followed by the mind-numbing, butt-widening 2-3 nights weekly of the same show, for the next several months.

It's entirely possible, especially with the magic of DVR, to watch reality TV 24 hours a day, on any possible topic your mind could conjure. I'm pretty sure I know some people who are testing that theory, give or take a few side-trips to McDonalds and StuffMart!

We started watching American Idol during the CLAY SHOULD HAVE WON 2nd season. Due to moves and various other activities, we missed episodes and, some years, entire seasons, but still managed to mostly stay in the loop through relatives and entertainment news. We saw Daughtry get booted when he shouldn't have. Tom accurately predicted during auditions that Taylor Hicks would land the top spot. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you the current Idol.

A friend told us about Dancing With The Stars, so we tuned in to that midway through the 2nd season. Waaaay cool, Savannah and I both loved it. It didn't take long, though, for me to start pondering the whole concept of DWTS. Yes, it's a competition, albeit with a cheesy trophy for the winner. Yes, it's fun. Yes, it's beautiful. But many of the other things that it is go directly against who I am as a Christian wife and mother.

If it's true that people are influenced by what they see on TV, (we are - bought anything you've seen advertised on TV lately?) then it stands to reason that might include negative influence. Call me crazy, but it doesn't seem logical to teach my daughter to be ladylike, and then let her watch Cheryl and Drew grind all over each other to "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy". It doesn't make much sense to talk to my boys about respecting women, when the TV set is showing Edyta and Karina's attempts to recover from their costume malfunction.

While a once-in-a-while viewing most likely won't corrupt the kids' minds, a steady diet of skimpy clothing and often overtly sexual dance acts does not reinforce our values, and does nothing to honor God. So, where do I draw the line? What is ok to watch, what is questionable and why, what is a possible learning experience, and what is definitely off limits? It isn't just my kids that need the limits, either. I, like my children, am vulnerable to letting something ungodly impact my life, and therefore affect my relationships. Can I continually watch DWTS, where the women are all put together, have gorgeous bodies, and can turn a man on with their dancing, and not compare myself to that? Probably not. In my head, I KNOW my value is not based on how I look, but society tells me otherwise, and I sometimes fall for that lie.

I do not attempt to shelter my children from all situations that could be construed as negative influence. Children need opportunities to make choices, right or wrong, when consequences are small, to help prepare them for making (hopefully) right decisions when the stakes are higher. I don't tell my children "we shouldn't do THAT" without giving them explanations WHY we shouldn't do whatever it is we're discussing.

I don't think dancing is evil. (If you know how I was raised, you'll find that comical.) Actually, one of my secret (until now!) fantasies has, for years, been for Tom and I to take ballroom dancing lessons. It is beautiful, and extremely sexy. If I could convince him to accompany me, I would put myself through the pain and torture. Not to be on display for other people, but simply for us.

Over the past 2 years, changes in our family lifestyle and budgeting issues have forced us to be out of the house during Primetime Television on many nights. What I've discovered - well, it hasn't been so much of a discovery as it has been a confirmation - is that we're just plain not missing all that much.

So while I appreciate the offer, ABC, I'm going to have to pass on this "Television Event of the Season". Your reality is just So. Not. Mine.

Too Bad People Haven't Been Trained This Way...

Happy Friday!!

Updated Homeschool Rules for 2009

I am a home school mom. So when ya'll do that "I'llbesogladwhenschoolstartsthesekidsaredrivingmenuts!!$#%^!!" thing, please stand your distance, because I just might pick up the nearest very large stick and whack you with it! The start of the school year means something totally different for me. To ensure that I maintain my sanity...wait, what am I saying, here?!? OK, OK, to try and appear a tadbit sane so I can fool...oh, forget it, that won't work either...
Let's try this again... For the benefit of my children, my brain, and my house, the following rules apply during normal school hours, which I believe are Monday through Friday prior to 3 PM...

1. I probably won't answer the phone, but you can leave a message and I'll call you back when I have a moment. Long discussions on dancing celebrities and political fallout won't be happening, though.

2. We have voicemail, not an answering machine. So don't yell into the phone, thinking you can annoy us enough that we'll quit ignoring you. We ARE ignoring you, but I'll never hear your complaints because I press "3" when I hear yelling on voicemail.

3. Cell phones owned and/or operated by children living at this address will not be turned on, and will most likely be in the possession of the teacher.

4. Drop-in visitors will be shot at first sight. So if your laundry detergent can't remove neon pink paint, don't step on our front porch.

5. I just might actually NOT answer the door if you attempt to break Rule #4. (We've got good aim - watch the upstairs windows.)

6. Our school day does not look like what you remember from 5th grade. If you drive by and see one of the kids playing in the street, just Smile and wave, Boys. Smile and wave. (well, if they're on a skateboard...if it's one of the babies, please...at least stop and direct them to the sidewalk. Do not call the social workers, though...they're the ones who put the babies here to begin with...they think they're cute, but they don't want them back.)

7. Field trips may include a trip to Stuffmart for diapers and coffee creamer. Don't question it. Just go with the flow, and appreciate a family that teaches their children the Fine Art of Shopping, Economics, and People Watching all at one time.

8. If you REALLY want to help out, come over and take the babies for a morning. Visit Story Hour at the library. They like playgrounds, indoors or out. They like french fries, too.

9. Sometimes the kids get to escape for lunch with friends. Usually on Friday, IF they've cooperated with the teacher during the week. So encourage them to cooperate, or they may starve to death. From lack of spending time with friends, I'm sure.

10. School work includes learning how the REAL world lives, which equates to a JOB. If you see the kids hauling a mower down the street, it ain't for entertainment.

11.Combining teenage students with infants has been a challenge this past year. It's a constantly re-assessed and rearranged work-in-progress. I may chuck it all and head for the hills by October. Please don't look for me. I'm enjoying my blissful ignorance, and the coffee supply is endless.

The school administrator will take complaints. He's big, bald and sees in black and white. Good luck.

Thank you for the opportunity to provide you with...whatever you want to call this. We're here to serve.

Strange Things in Our Neighborhood Recently

It's Friday. Yeah!! Only it's Tom's weekend to work, so that really means nothing...

We brought this little fellow home from church a couple weeks ago. Not like this...



...he actually managed to cram himself into the vehicle, but the ride seemed longer than usual, for some reason. He currently resides on our front porch, until I can decide how to fillet him. Thanks so much, Friend-at-church-who-thought-you-were-funny-letting-my-kids-have-this....Your time is comin'...

My sister sent me an email with a automobile industry suggestion...we live reasonably close to the DIY, cheap-furniture company, Sauder's Woodworking ( WHY it's called Woodworking is beyond me, since it's sawdust and glue in a cardboard box that you hopefully don't screw up too bad when you put it together yourself) - apparently, Sauder's is taking over the manufacturing of cars now...



Yes, some assembly is required.



Now, I'm all for entrepreneurship. I'm all for the American Dream. I'm all for profiting while helping others...I couldn't face my father if I wasn't!

I've seen Pampered Chef and Tupperware advertised on some vehicles, in a basically non-intrusive, not in-your-face sort of way...

But...






uhhh....




rarely does this happen, but...

...I just don't know what to say...

You Talkin' to ME??!??

Ever just sit and watch people? Wonder what makes them tick? Why they act like they do? What happened to them to make them so bitter, nasty, and mean-spirited?

I do.

I have a pretty tough skin. Things that bother many women just plain don't bother me. I'm not calloused. I just happen to believe that most things that stress people out WOULDN'T, if they'd put it into perspective. Sure, things get to me, and sometimes they're stupid things...everybody has bad days. I'm just not one to sit around moping about things I can't change and aren't really that important in the grand scheme of life.

However, I DO like to be liked. I've never read How to Win Friends and Influence People, and don't plan to add it to my Must-Read list, but I truly enjoy being around just about every kind of person imaginable. I am a people watcher. I can, and very often do, strike up conversations about anything with nearly anybody. All the better, if I can get a chuckle out of them, make them smile, give them a reason to think. I have a personal bubble space, but I'm not afraid to shrink or expand it, even invite others in, if the mood strikes.

I don't, as a general rule, set out to make people dislike me, but that sometimes comes with the territory known as Deanna. Rarely do I find myself flabbergasted enough to honestly not care if I offend someone by speaking my mind. When I speak truthfully, my methods of communicating do offend some people. I occasionally have to apologize, because while my viewpoint about a topic may be unchanged, my delivery could be fine-tuned. OK, major overhauled!

But...(ya knew that was comin', didn'tcha?)...

Call my kid a pig on the public transit system, and I will not care who knows that I'm not happy. I'm not going to grow cancer in my brain over it, but it isn't something I'll forget.

We just spent 3 days in Chicago with Bucky, celebrating his 16th birthday. It was 3 days of just Tom, Bucky and me, doing fun stuff, eating food that I didn't prepare, exploring one of the most beautiful cities in the country, full of, for the most part, friendly people. Nearing the end of the 3rd day, we were exhausted. We were returning from Sears Tower, and having reached the end of our walking capabilities, we hopped on a near-capacity bus. We may be from the sticks, but we know bus etiquette says "Sit in the handicapped section if no handicapped people need it. Offer your seat to elderly people, pregnant women, or passengers with small children." Knowing this, we sat in the front of the bus. Tired. Zoned out.

Bucky had a significant headache, so he certainly wasn't paying attention to what his fellow passengers were doing. I wasn't being overly watchful, but I had noticed an older lady across from me, reading a book. She was not at all happy when someone sat beside her and bumped into her belongings, and the thought crossed my mind that she just looked grumpy and not very nice.

A couple of blocks down the road, an older, perhaps in their 60's, very able-bodied couple and another older lady got on the bus together. The only seat available was right next to the grumpy book lady, so the single lady took it, leaving the couple standing in the aisle. Several more people climbed aboard during the next few stops, so it was getting crowded. I noticed the book lady glancing at me over her reading glasses. I overheard a conversation that the couple was involved in, regarding an upcoming lecture the lady was to be giving "And I don't even know the topic yet!" My thought was "What's so special about this lady that they ask her to lecture and haven't chosen a topic?"

Shortly, in the back of my tired mind, I began hearing the word "pig" repeated several times. Glancing at the book lady, I realized she was speaking to the couple and their friend, but the words she was speaking were directed at us. "Kids these days are just PIGS!! It's so disheartening! It really is! I mean it! They're just PIGS! PIGS!!!" Her eyes darting from my face to Bucky's kinda gave it away.

I just stared at her. She looked away. I kept staring. Again, she said the word "Pigs" very loudly several times. By this time, the bus was completely full, and I stood to offer my seat to an arriving older lady who looked like she needed it. She very kindly told me that as long as she could hold on to something, she was fine, and remained where she was. We had arrived at our stop by now, and had to step around several people to reach the back door.

I could not resist leaning right into the grumpy book lady, getting down eye-level with her mean face. Patting her on the lap, I smiled sweetly, wrinkled my nose, and softly said, "We raise pigs for a living. We could lecture on it." I walked off the bus, feeling not the least bit guilty about stretching the truth a wee bit...after all, when I was 8, we did have pigs we slaughtered and sold.

Apparently as I was departing, she said, loud enough for Tom and Bucky to hear, "You're pigs!!" They were both oblivious to what had transpired over the past several city blocks, as well as to what I was doing in this woman's face. I had to relay the entire bus ride, lest they be convinced I'd finally lost my mind for good.

But as for the lady - what was she trying to accomplish? Whatever it was, she probably failed. What has she experienced, who has wronged her, how long has she held on to anger?

How much happier could she have been that day, if I'd sat beside her and cracked a joke? Would she have hit me with her book, or would she have warmed up enough to tell me who the author was? Because I would have liked to know...the front of the book looked pretty. Eyes of a child, entitled Honolulu, or something like that, if I recall correctly.

I would have loved to tell her how gorgeous I think her city is. How friendly Chicagoans seem. How absolutely stunning the flowers on the Magnificent Mile are. That we chose Chicago, so Bucky could see Blue Man Group. What a great kid he is.
Ask about her family. Her work, life in the city, good places she liked to eat...

But she called my kid a pig. So now, she'll never know Bucky. She's missing out.

She Wore An Itsy-Bitsy, Teeny-Weeny, Yellow, Polka-Dot.....Burlap Bag!

I was reminded last night of why it's been well over 6 years since my last bathing suit purchase. Just looking at the price caused a mild heart attack. I am not about to spend $86 dollars to learn Humility Through Donning Spandex!

Upcoming events require that I be dressed appropriately for water activities. I don't know how to swim, so how many of these activities I actually participate in will be somewhat limited. If being in the general vicinity of the action requires appropriate dress as well, the management may need to change the rules about not letting people wearing garbage bags into the roped off areas!

Typically if I'm around water, it's a lake, so I can wear what I want. Shorts and a tank top, or shorts over an old bathing suit, or something along those lines. I haven't been in a public pool since...well, I don't recall ever being in a public pool. However, feeling the pressure to conform, I took a stroll through Kohls last night to see just how The Others...you know, the Ones With Bodies...dress when in or near bodies of water.

I searched till I found what I thought would be a tolerable piece of equipment. (That's the only way to refer to something this distasteful. "Cute" and "Sexy" are really quite obnoxiously unkind, not to mention untruthful, words to choose when viewing swimming apparel on the body of a mother-who-birthed-4.) Figuring that a "shorts and long top" style would be better, not to mention cheaper, I grabbed a couple sizes of the same style and headed for the dressing rooms with the Mirrors From Hell. I was certain I wouldn't look any worse than the 60-ish grandmotherly-type lady, quite a few pounds heavier and a couple inches shorter than I, shopping in the same Misses department.

I have no idea what that lady looked like, but THIS lady ain't goin' out in public wearing what she tried to wear in that claustrophobia-inducing hole! The sticker-shock heart attack wasn't enough to do me in, but the broken neck from falling down laughing almost made death a reality. My first thought, after picking myself up was "Oh my gosh! There's no way I'd let my boys see me like this!"

Despite what many people think, Image Isn't Everything. However, image is SOMEthing! And no one should have that image in their mind. That whole "picture is worth a thousand words" thing... I only need two words..."NO WAY!"







(image from google)

Holy Bagel, Batman! It's Jesus!

For those of you that missed out on the opportunity to bid on the Virgin Mary grilled cheese sandwich...and haven't saved enough money to travel to the far corners of the world to view the obscure Jesus shadow on a church wall...and tried but just couldn't quite make the perfect omelet resembling Moses...

I offer you...



...the Jesus Pan.

Call your closest friend, and for a mere $29.99, you can both share in this spiritual bliss. What says "Jesus Love Me" better than a bagel with Freaky-Eye Syndrome!

You'll be the envy of all your family when you prepare your holiday meals with this special, life-changing pan. You may even be asked to preach at your church once your pastor finds out you Worship with Jesus at every meal. Order in bulk at a special discount - these make excellent Sunday School gifts! Pens with your church name are so yesterday!

Despite the oddly-placed punctuation, and the fact that Jesus looks like he's using weird halos to recover from a car accident, this special kitchen tool has been featured on the Jay Leno show, and everybody knows how spiritual that man's shows can be!

Don't schedule your next pancake supper/bingo night until you've called and ordered your Jesus Pans. Your church friends will thank you.

It Must Be a Rhetorical Question, Eh?

Having worked at Wendy's in a former, younger life, I should know better than to buy chicken sandwiches at certain times of the day. My on-the-run sandwich/supper yesterday didn't come from a chicken hatchery. It came from a rubber tree, I'm pretty sure. I've discovered you can choke down lots of things, if the thing is drowning in pickles.

Do we really need Danny Lipford, DIY guru, telling us that all homeowners should have a hammer? Granted, not every home in most 3rd-world countries have a lot of use for hammers, but in developed nations, I'm thinking... Hmmm... if a bank will give you a loan for a house, you've probably considered purchasing a hammer. Finding that hammer when you need it is another story.

When did "burial expense" experts start making telemarketing calls? That was kinda creepy on my voicemail!

Why does my insurance company have NO PROBLEM doling out thousands of dollars monthly for medication, but they limit my chiropractor payments to $1,000 annually? We recently discovered that one of Gabe's seizure medications comes in more than one form, and this means a savings of over $1100 a month, merely by switching from "sprinkles" to "tablets". I suggest they let me have the savings for visits to my chiropractor more often.

Why can I always find chocolate bunnies in the Easter Candy aisle, but I have to search through 87 Walmarts to find a white chocolate cross?

Do people really write those letters to Dear Abby, or are they computer-generated? I realize America has it's fair share of dumb people, but if people are really as dumb as some of those letters indicate, would they be smart enough to write for advice?

How can anyone POSSIBLY watch enough TV to make it worth the $136/monthly bill I saw recently, belonging to a woman who has a male significant other that refuses to work?

Why?

Why?

Why?

It's a near-full moon. I live with teenagers. I have a 3 year old. Any or all of those facts might explain my grouchy, whiny, inquisitive attitude. I am SO not feelin' the love tonight.

Tearing the Wrapper Off Counts as Exercise, Right?

Miniature Cadbury Caramel Eggs just don't have the appeal of the larger ones. Sure, it's easier to hide one in your mouth if one of the kids happen to appear in the room while you're sucking one down enjoying every small nibble. But darn it, they're wrapped in foil. Got any idea how long it takes to unwrap one of those things? I don't either - I gave up and just ate the gold shiny stuff along with the chocolate and caramel. Figured it might help me with the elimination process later on.

I also like to eat chocolate chips. My mother-in-law thought I was a complete loon when Tom and I first got married, because she had never heard of eating chocolate chips sans cookies. *BOGGLE* She thought it was such a strange notion that one year for Christmas, she bought me a bag of chocolate chips as a gift. It was practically my favorite gift that year, proving that sometimes mothers-in-law actually do get it right!

In the nearly-18 years I've been married, I can probably count on one or two hands how many times I've baked chocolate chip cookies. However, my hips tell a story of proportions best left denied. We won't go into that right now.

This issue with chocolate isn't held by myself alone. It is a familial trait. My oldest sister employed various methods of weaning her body from the desire for chocolate chips. One of my favorites involved her putting the yummy morsels in her deep freeze in her unheated, subzero temperature cement-floored garage in an attempt to fool her brain into thinking it could go without chocolate. Her feet didn't care that she had no socks on - they just automatically marched her body down the hallway and planted themselves in front of the freezer while she munched on frozen Nestles. I'm thinking she gave up on the notion that this plan worked, because she didn't develop frostbite requiring amputation.

Hershey's Kisses do in a pinch, but for all the work of unwrapping the chocolate, and picking off the pieces of that darn white tag that rings "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" bells in holiday commercials, you'd think the bite would last longer. Then again, maybe it would, if I actually bit instead of inhaling.




I like regular Hershey Bars, without almonds. There is no reason to clutter up perfectly good chocolate with nuts! But several years back, when they changed the wrapper to the shiny, slick plastic stuff, it nearly sent me over the edge! You have to grab the end just right, and pull it slowly open or you rip it, and therefore ruin the presentation of a perfect bar of chocolate. You actually have to put effort into ripping a straight line down the center, because otherwise the evil wrapper-gods sit and laugh at your mounting frustration as you watch the chocolate ooze out the end - melted at the mercy of your angry hands. I had to ask what was wrong with the old Foil-covered Paper Wrapping, so I called to complain. Yes, I actually called that 1-800 number they provide for just such comments. I complimented them on the quality of their food product, and told them they were causing issues with my addiction by forcing me to slow down in the presentation process. They took my comments under advisement, and most likely fell off their chair laughing. It did me no good - they didn't return to the former packaging.

Hershey's Nuggets are a much better option, if you have to unwrap. They're solid rectangles, and the wrapper is paper as opposed to flimsy, Kisses-type foil, so it doesn't rip. You can make them last for 2 full bites and feel like you've accomplished something. They have a melt-in-your-mouth option, if you're willing to hang on long enough. If you're not a chocolate purist, there are even several editions with various flavor enhancers like caramel, dark chocolate centers, and raspberry.

But...

...for the immediate satisfaction without any of the fuss, go with Mini Hershey's Kisses. Found in the baking aisle with the chocolate chips and cocoa, these little temptations are smaller than your average Kiss, but packaged like chocolate chips. Therefore - unwrapped. Simply cut open the end of the silver bag, and pour the little boogers right into your hand. Directly into your mouth works if you're desperate, but this is usually only required for the first mouthful, after which you can dump some into a bowl and pick up smaller quantities.

Considering that we are so close to the Easter Holiday, I can't forget to mention one of my favorite places to sneak into once in a while. If you're anywhere near the Ft. Wayne, Indiana area and you're alone, visit DeBrand Fine Chocolates. I say alone, because if you haul the whole family in there, you're going to walk out with a T-shirt that says "I Went To DeBrand and All I Got For My 20 Bucks Was 5 Truffles and This Shirt That Won't Stretch Over My Hips".

My name is Deanna, and I'm a Convicted Chocoholic.


(image courtesy of google)