a small encounter

Small Child: You know, we have more toys at our house than you do at yours.

Me: Oh well that is probably because we only have one kid in our family and you have three.

Small Child: Why do you only have one kid?

Me: Well . . . God has only given us one kid so far.

Small Child: Why?

Me: I don't know.

Small Child: Is he going to give you more kids?

Me: Yeah, I think we will be getting more kids.

Small Child: When?

Me: Don't know.

Small Child: Then how do you know you will get them?

Me: I just know.

Small Child: No, how do you know? You might not.

Me: A little birdy told me so.

Small Child: What? A bird? It could talk? What was it's name?

Me: Frank.

Small Child: Birds can't talk!

Me: Hummm. You believe whatever you want, but Frank and I talked all through lunch. I had ham on rye, he had tuna fish. He told me he gets really mad when little kids ask a lot of questions.

Small Child: You're just kidding. Frank didn't talk.

Me: Oh, you got me. I'm just being funny. Did you know that I have more friends than you? I even have friends in Finland. I guess that makes me the coolest. You better run along now, I think your mom is calling.

hey you, stupid, yeah you

I've done a few stupid things in my life. Not hitchhiking or base jumping stupid. No, mine has been more of the listening to Rush Limbaugh in college and buying the 200 count Red Vine package from Costco stupid.

Truth be told, I think I am of average intelligence. As children, my sister and I were given I.Q. tests. To this day my mother won't tell us our scores. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why. My sister can play any instrument she picks up site unseen, it took me three years just to learn to braid hair. While my sister emerged as the teachers pet, I was spending my time collecting them.

circa 1979

I don't mind being average. I worked hard and did well in school. I developed a love for reading and I have set out to read all the great ones. Or the ones I think are great anyway. Maybe by the end of my life I will have some small understanding of the world in which I lived.

But let me get to the point of this post. I hate the word stupid. The boy has been busted as of late using this word, or one of its derivatives, and there has been some punishments dealt.

I also hate that the world seems to only really recognize genius when it comes to scholarly feats. I once spoke to a friend on the phone. She was driving her kids to karate, eating an apple, fast forwarding the DVD, quizzing her daughter on spelling words and putting on mascara. And we had a perfectly cognoscente conversation, albeit a few, "stigma, s-t-i-g-m-a" and "surplus, s-u-r-p-l-u-s" .

Dangerous? You might say. But I say to you, necessity is the mother of invention, and mothers, above all, are inventors.

I think it is time we redefine terms like genius and stupid. Let's start by looking around us at the mere virtuosos of everyday life. I tell you, you are probably living right next door to a mastermind of organization! Have you seen these mother's with four plus kids? They are nothing short of brilliant.

I personally think I should be given an honorary doctorate in reproductive medicine. I know all there is to know. Can someone get on that please?


The drawing for the hat in the previous post will be open until Friday so scroll on down and have a look.

dangling the carrot

I think we all know that I am not above bribing people to get them to do what I want. To coax all you lurkers out, (I know you are still out there, I even know where you live- well, generally). I offer you a little bribe that you will hopefully be unable to resist.

My good friend Wendy has started a business selling hats. Evidently, hats are the chic accessory these days. I'm not in my twenties anymore so I can't be expected to know what is hot in modern society, but I have friends. I have friends who keep up with trends and they fill me in. In this way, I am really in the loop and super hip.



Any lurker who is willing to reveal themselves by leaving a comment will be in the drawing for this darling little jockey cap donated by Wendy of Swanki Hats. I chose to give away the blue one because that is the one I liked the best. If you aren't so much of a blue gal, click on over to Swanki Hats and order it in another color.

Survivor man just bought me a knit cap for Christmas, but if he hadn't, I'd be ordering up one of these. I guess I could always have two caps, but I think I might feel a little ridiculous, you know, with the weather being 85 degrees and all.

Okay kids, comment away. I'll use my random number picker to select a winner on Friday.

P.S. Check out Swanki Hats list of shows. There will be a party in my area next Wednesday. If you live close, stop on by.

so

So, I have been thinking about a conversation I had with a friend a year ago. I do these sorts of things. Go over old conversations in my head thinking about what I should have said. It's just one of my many neurosis and I have learned to just roll with it.

Anyway, I had just started my blog and she was saying how she likes to read blogs, but she rarely comments. At the time, I readily agreed with her. Why should a person have to comment on every blog they read? What if you really don't have much to say on the topic? Why the pressure?

Damned needy bloggers! Get over yourselves! (I spit in the dirt for emphasis!)

However, I am finding that not unlike casserole recipes from the 70's, humble pie is a regular menu item that keeps cropping up around here. I've got the pudgy thighs and bitter aftertaste to prove it.

There have been times, over the last year, that I have poured my heart out into a blog post only to be meet with silence. It feels a little like I have told an offensive joke at one of my parent's dinner parties. Crickets chirp, throats are cleared.

I was fine until I added a sitemeter which educated me on just how many people don't have anything to say in response to my ramblings. It is really quite absurd how many of you keep returning to my spot here on the internet only to LURK.

So I'm calling you out. Olli olli oxen free!!!! Today is national de-lurking day. Really. They have a day for it. It seems I'm not the only chagrined blogger out there.

Especially you, Miss Finland! The lurking has got to stop.

85 with a slight chance of bragging

I went running today. It was 85 degrees with a lazy breeze. The palm trees swayed. The birds chirped happily amongst themselves, no doubt discussing the weather. The sun kissed my shoulders and strengthened the mellow sent of my sunscreen and the tang of cut grass that hung in the air of the neighborhood.

There have been moments, quick and fleeting, where I miss the stillness of winter. The beauty of the stark, skeletal trees dusted with snow. And I think to myself how distinct seasons make for such a rich and vibrant life.

But ultimately the plebeian in me wins out.

What can I say? It's January and I smell like Banana Boat.

humble pie

I thought I'd share my recipe for humble pie. Jenny and Julie, you're gunna love this.

Humble Pie

1 heapful of "I hope Thom doesn't want to play sports."
1 large portion of selfishness over personal time on Saturdays
372 eye rolls over parents going to their kids games instead of out to lunch with us
87 white lies told to a child as to why we haven't signed him up to play

Mix well over a period of a couple years. Pour into a dish of crusty looks of distrust when told that kids games are actually a lot of fun. Bake at a ridiculously high heat.

serves one

For all you out there that have gingerly told me for a while now that kids sports are really a great thing only to be meet with smart remarks and a hand wave, you should know something. Today I am eating my words.

Yesterday was Tommy B.'s first game. It was 80 degrees and a little windy. He had soooo much fun despite the fact that his mother refused to fall into the "Soccer Mom" profile, so she wore stylish clothes and brought no lawn chairs or water.

He scored a goal in the first half, then he decided to get a little social time in while the ball was still in play. Now, that's my boy.

the results

Finders Keepers

Ahhhhh. Good art day. I was inspired by recent events.

Available for purchase here.

floating

"Do you believe in fairies?....
Originally uploaded by i.anton

Well, I'm still floating around up in the clouds. It seems the vacation I have been gifted from my usually worrisome mind will be an extended one. The laundry pile has formed a personality all it's own and it creeps and growls at me with rick rack teeth as I pass by, but I am unaffected.

I have recently acquired a small stash of vintage wall paper and I have every intention of channeling my dreaming state to create something wonderful today. Ben is out on the ocean fishing for a scaly foe that will fight the good fight, and Tommy B. is playing with bugs in the sunshine. Laundry be damned. Today is an art day.

finders keepers

Well, the call finally came. A child with down syndrome had wandered off from home and the Search and Rescue team were called in. There have been other calls. Lovely little calls, involving skull bones, decomposing bodies and suicidal people, but until Ben gets his first responder certification he can't participate in most rescues. Tonight was a different story. With a child missing, they needed him.

The phone rang just as we were sitting down to dinner. My husband has always been a fast eater, but tonight I was dumbfounded as I watched him finish off an entire cowboy dinner (sausage, beans and cornbread) in three gulps. Thom and I were only half way through our meal when we saw a blur of a uniform leave the house.

Thinking that this was an opportune teaching moment, I turned to Thom and said,

"Did you know that Daddy is going out to help find a little kid who wandered away from home?"

"What's the little boy's name?", he asked.

"We don't know. It might even be a girl. Whoever it is, they are lost outside in the cold and dark. Don't you think it is great that Daddy likes to help people?"

"Uh, yeah." He seemed a little underwhelmed. I don't think he grasps how cool his dad really is. I mean, lawyer by day, search and rescue guy by night? That is bascially the formula for a super hero.

We sat eating our dinner and I smiled at him to reiterate the point that helping people makes us happy.

And then he said, "You know Mom, if it is a little girl, maybe Daddy could just bring her home and we could keep her."

Finders keepers.

evidently

There is a little something that has cropped up over the past little while. A few of my friends have remarked on it, and after the twentieth person said something, I started to take it seriously. Evidently, I have a phone etiquette problem.

I don't say "good-bye" at the end of the conversation.

I guess I just don't think it is necessary. I mean, if you say to me "okay, tomorrow then, at noon", and I say "yeah, I'll see you there", isn't that the end of the conversation? Do I really need to say some sort of trite farewell after having said "I'll see you there"? In my mind it's a closer. Click. I guess I could add "with bells on!", but that's just cheesy. The conversation is obviously over, right? Hang up.

But evidently, some people rely on the traditional good-bye to acknowledge the end of a phone conversation. I would love to promise you all that I will, from now on, give you the proper good-bye you are looking for, but that is just so accommodating, and not like me at all. But, what I will do is this. I will start ending my calls with "10-4 big buddy".

Will you be needing me to say "over and out" afterwards?

Okay, on to other business. Could the maker of this goooorgemoose gift please step forward? I received this super fun surprise from my Pink Christmas secret friend and, as so often happens during the Christmas chaos, I lost the note that came with it and I desperately need to thank this talented girl for her thoughtfulness. I remember recognizing her as one of my readers so I'm counting on her to get this message. She also sent along a magnet board from Steel Dreaming Designs which I immediately hung and put photos on. It was such a fun package to receive!