Thursday, October 28, 2010


You know when you have those days when you are sad and it seems like the universe must know because all of the sudden you are overwhelmed with things that bring you joy?  That was my day today.  I was sad about Sarah, then sad about the disappearance of my makeup bag.  Big deal about the makeup, right?  There are worse things that could have happened.  Besides, I found remnants of a little makeup here and a little there...I didn't end up looking THAT bad.  But I was not myself.  Not feeling like myself.  But then I went to pick up a cake for Dollface and it was so cute that it made me happy!  I took it to the restaurant where I am having a little party for her tonight.  It is a friend's place.  The most beautiful place I have ever seen.  The room he gave me was a picture right out my dreams.  I was ashamed to hang Justin Bieber all over the walls because it cheapened my beautiful surroundings.  If you have never been to this place, you should run right out this weekend and have dinner.  And then the next weekend and the weekend after that.  It is just that beautiful.  And when you walk in, you are overwhelmed with the smell of wood burning and the dreamiest food cooking.  You will think you are up in a chalet in the mountains.  Dreamy.  It made me so happy!  Now I get to run off there to have dinner with my Dollface and her fiends and that makes me smile.  And then first thing in the morning, I get to hop in Miss Rebellious and take them all to stay in a beautiful beach house in Newport Beach and to San D Saturday night to see Mr. Bieber toss his hair forward and sing to them.  Just so we are clear, I am not the least bit interested in seeing him flip his hair.  I have zero interest in teenage boys.  I already have to put up with Teenage Tim and friends.

**If you are wondering about this dreamy place that I call a chalet in the mountains, it is Fire Side and it is on St. Rose and Cactus.  And for those who live out by me and want to stay closer to home, Mountain Side is just right up the street and is my beloved, as well, with the most amazing view.  Very romantic.  Go have a dreamy and steamy date night by the crackling fire.  Ahhh.  And don't forget to order a pina colada.  Virgin, of course.  My favorite.


I find myself feeling so sad this morning.  As I was out for my morning run, I noticed my single mother friend's yard looking a little sad so I went to grab my lawnmower and away I went.  I think I mentioned before that I have this other neighbor (licentious teenage girl's father) who dislikes so much seeing me out doing yard work.  He also gets irritated that I like to do other neighbor's yard work, too, even though I continue to remind him that I love the smell of fresh cut grass so it is actually a treat for me!  Anyway, as I was pulling some weeds in my friend's yard, her eighteen year old daughter came out.  A few weeks ago, I found out she had cancer.  When she walked out of the house this morning my heart ached as I saw what the treatments had done to this vivacious and beautiful girl, how it was ravishing her body.  It was all I could do to hold back my tears and be strong enough to offer words of compassion and encouragement.  I don't think my other neighbor has any idea what this family is going through or he might not have given me a ten minute lecture on my way back to my house after visiting with my friend.  My sweet little teenage neighbor kept apologizing to me and was so embarrassed that her and her sister had not been keeping up on their yard.  It is, at the very least, a pleasure for me to be able to do it.  They are my friends and I would do anything for them.  I told my friend that it is okay to be on the receiving end sometimes, that people find joy in serving others.  As I reflect on our conversation I realize what a hypocrite I am since I am always uncomfortable being on the receiving end and usually will not allow anyone to do anything for me.  I should work on humility.  I find myself in tears now.  My heart feels like it is breaking as I think of my neighbor, my friend.  Beautiful Sarah.  Sarah, who I have known since she was twelve.  Who babysat my children.  Who would make me all kinds of fresh smoothies and leave them on my doorstep.  Sarah, who would show up at my house at dinner time and loved my cooking.  Who's mother is one of my closest friends.  Ouch.  My heart hurts like hockeysticks.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Politically Charged!

It has been a very long time since I sat and watched TV.  I haven't even been watching my Survivor.  Shocking, I know.  I will turn the news on occasionally when I am putting on my makeup in the morning, only half paying attention, but this morning I was so amused by all the political commercials that I had to sit down for a minute so I could really tell whether or not my ears were playing tricks on me.  You all know by now that Gary Reid is not my favorite person in the world, but that I do admire him for some good deeds that I have been a witness to, and for our shared passion on the fight against Yucca Mountain, so you may think I am talking out of both sides of my mouth as I am about to stick up for poor Gary.  This silly commercial was belittling him for "living in a million dollar home in Washington D.C. while millions of Americans are losing their homes".  He also "made a million dollar profit on a land deal while millions of Americans remain jobless".  So, my question is, who is making these commercials and who are they supposed to appeal to?  If it is to us conservatives, you have failed.  We actually applaud people who work for the things they have.  We think people who invest wisely are genius.  So you must be trying to rein in votes from the slackers.  The ones who think everything is owed to them on a silver platter and who despise people who have more than they do.  The ones who think the rich should give to the poor, or should I say the poor who choose to do nothing to better themselves.  (There is a difference between the needy and the poor.)  Please don't misinterpret what I am saying.  I think those blessed in abundance should want to share with the less fortunate because they have so much to give, but I also believe that it is their choice to do so and is not a requirement or an obligation.  Why should I not want to vote for Harry, I mean Gary Reid simply because he has more than me?  That is the silliest thing I have heard in a long time.  And it is insulting that these commercial makers would think that I am shallow enough to blindly agree with them, just because it is an attack on a liberal.  Now, if you tell me that Gary benefited from a shady and dishonest land deal that he was involved with in 2001, strong arming many people in to making it happen, or how he neglected to disclose his increase of the sale of that same property to the Ethics Committee while being a member of Congress, a lawmaker who chooses not to follow or enforce his own rules, then I might not vote for him based on his lack of honesty.  But how insulting to assume that we should refrain from electing him based solely on his overstuffed financial portfolio.  Give me a commercial that states actual facts.  Show me real and not fabricated voting records.  Tell me what your plans to make our country better really are.  Oh, I'm sorry, there seems to be a lack of those ads.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if these politicians would base their entire race solely on what their truthful ideas and motives are and focus less on the other candidate's shortcomings and dug up, half truth, dirty little secrets?  Ladies and gentlemen, it is and always has been our own responsibility to research the real facts to decide who best represents our own views.  I don't care what your views are or whether or not they are the same as mine, I just care that you have an opinion.  And if it is a passionate one opposite of mine, do you want to banter with me?  I love a good duel.  The prize can be that the loser has to sit through a Brad Pitt movie.  Sorry ladies, I have higher expectations than Tristan. 

And Ms. Sharon Angle...I still can't figure you out.  The Republicans are so hellbent on getting Reid out that they forgot to pay closer attention to who they put up to try to replace him.  She seems too hard core, lacks compassion, and her Martha Stewart attitude of "making lemonade out of lemons" would be so gracious if she was actually planning to serve me up a refreshing sweet and tart beverage, but so insensitive and heartless when referring to a young girl who has been raped or molested.  There are times in life when you aren't in love with either candidate, but you still must make a choice.  Sift through all the real facts and you will come to a smart and educated decision based on your personal belief system.  You might have to put forth a little work and do some homework, but it is, after all, your responsibility.  Refuse to ever be a fence sitter.  Those who sit on the sidelines and allow everyone else to choose for them instead of making a decision, walk through life stoically indifferent, which I consider shameful and a sin against the society they live in.  Indifference breeds apathy and once that sets in, you might as well move to France.  But I have hope that those people will turn a corner one day and realize that life is about growth, progression and making a real difference in the lives of those around you.  It is not a whimsical, drunken dance that you should float mindlessly through, showing no emotion, care or worry.  May we all wake up and try to make a difference in our neighborhoods, communities, churches, in our own families, and amongst our friends and coworkers.  And pretty, pretty please, don't forget to vote.  Although I would love you to always agree with me, I would never judge you if you don't.  Again, I just love that you have an opinion.  November 2nd is right around the corner.  GO VOTE!

**Gary is not allowed to share the same initials as my HR, so out of respect to my Mr. Roark, Harry Reid will forever more be referred to as Gary.  Just in case you missed that post! 

PS- I just read this post to Mr. Smith and he said he would love to see a whimsical, drunken dance tonight.
PPS- I still admire Ms. Angle's efforts even though I don't agree with all her political angles.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Less Is More...

Isn't that an interesting phrase?  Someone mentioned it today and it caused me to ponder it in my mind.  I suppose there are many things in life where I would agree that, yes, less IS more.  Like when it comes to plastic surgery and botox.  I might even have said that none is more until I recently learned that you can actually buy a set of hot mamas.  I had no idea!  When did that happen?  I promise that I don't judge anyone who has purchased them.  But there is something odd and plasticy about a woman, ewe, or a man, who has had botox.  Have you seen Blagojevich lately?  He almost has a cabbage patch doll look about him.  The only thing that moves on a cabbage patch face are the eyes and it's the same with poor Rod.  All he can do is blink and perma-smile.  How on earth can you not fall madly in love with that man?  There is something so attractive to me about a man with no shame and no fear.  And he is so friendly.  I am shocked that a guy who knows what he knows can walk around in one of the biggest cities, waving and shaking hands with everyone, and no one takes a shot at him?  He's my hero.  Getting back on subject, I actually think that seeing smile lines is adorable.  You shouldn't be ashamed by them.  It shows that you have had a happy life.  I believe that a woman aging gracefully is the most beautiful of all.  So I say notox to botox.  To me, less is more when it comes to decorating, too.  I love simplicity.  Simple lines.  Simple furniture.  Not too much on the walls.  I am not a fan of clutter and a lot of random items, just to fill space.  Objects in my home have a purpose or a meaning.  The rest will find it's way elsewhere.       

Less is more when tanning.  A light bronzed glow is more beautiful than hours in the sun that left you with the curse of leatha skin.  One good pair of jeans that feels like second skin is worth more than a closet full of ill fitting ones.  Less is always more when it comes to makeup, too.  Unless you are Dolly Parton.  She is beautiful in any amount of makeup.  Less piercings is also a favorite of mine.  Zero gauges.  I'm sorry, they are yucky and make me lose my appetite.  Less Reids in office is better than more.  A spoiled child is one that is given more than he can appreciate at one time.  It isn't their fault.  They can't help it.  Give them a little at a time.  They are capable of appreciating one or two really great toys, but do not have the capacity to find gratitude enough for everything all at once.  No one does.  You can never spoil a child with too much of your time, though.  What a foolish thing for someone to say and actually write in a book.  A house too big is too much.  I only need and want enough space to function and live comfortably in.  A cozy home where everyone is not too far away from each other promotes more togetherness.  I LOVE a cozy home.   And one really amazing memory placed delicately in your mind, where it will never be lost, that you attribute to giving you more conviction and passion in that single experience than anything else you can remember, is worth more than living a lifetime of frivolous nonsense where you learned nothing at all.  Yes, less can be more.

But then more can be more, too.  More is more when you are talking about a good movie, book or song that you love.  One that you never want to end.  It could go on and on and you would be content to just keep watching, listening, reading.  With a good movie, I will rewind the romantic ending and watch it over and over again.  Just those last fifteen minutes.  Like I did today when I put on Ever After while I folded the clothes.  I know, it's crazy, but that's me.  I am known to replay my favorite songs over and over and drive my kids and Mr. Smith insane.  And I mark pages in my favorite books so I can easily flip to those passages whenever I want.  More is more when you are receiving compliments from someone you admire. 
There can never be too many stars to look at in the sky.  I could never have to many plants, flowers and trees in my garden.  In fact, I would love it to look like the Garden of Eden.  And opposite from my opinion on the size of a home, more is more when it comes to the area of my surrounding yard.  I would rather live in a small cottage (or cabin) surrounded by acres and acres of land than in a mansion with none.  One day I will have that.  More friends is always better than less if you have the kinds of friends that I do.  But less is more if you have a bunch of fair weather friends.  Children can never play outside too much.  More is more when it comes to fresh air and exercise.  Kids are more creative when they are outside.  More education is better than less.  You can never learn enough.  Someone could study for a lifetime and still never even begin to touch the surface of endless knowledge.  But those who think they know everything know nothing at all.  Less of those people is more.  Having more children is better than having less, but there are those who can only have one, two, or three.  Some can have none.  I wanted twelve.    

People who suffer more trials than others are often some of the most inspiring individuals that I have ever met.  You must suffer pain to experience pure joy.  You appreciate happiness more when you have gone through the sorrows of pain.  More is more in a lot of ways.  I could argue that more in monetary gain is more but it is a shame that I can not believe that to be true.  People who are very well endowed are often void of compassion for others.  They have too much at one time to appreciate.  Like the spoiled child.  There are times when I wish I had more so I could give more.  Isn't that the beauty of being blessed with so much?  More is always more when it comes to the time you give to others.  Whoever made up the saying "it is the quality of time and not the quantity of time" must have been a person full of a lot of guilt who I feel sorry for.  I am also a firm believer in you get what you pay for. (Except for Miss Rebellious.  I paid a fortune for a bad attitude.)  So when it comes to buying quality, more is more.  I can never have too many kisses, hugs, passionate love.  And if I could eat more chocolate, that would be fantasorgasmic!  Is that a misspell?

And then there is the category of just enough.  I call it the Goldilocks category.  A wedding ring should never be too small, it's borderline insulting, and I consider it gaudy if it is too big.  I like to see one just big enough to let me know that I am worth it.  But I notice that gaudy to me is just right to most women, and that's okay.  Everything in life is just a matter of opinion.  I like to watch the news, just enough to be informed, but not too much to become depressed.  I visit California just long enough to relax, but if we stay too long, my husband will want to move back.  I like to be alone, just long enough to be able to peacefully think, not too long to feel lonely.  I like to stay up late, but not too late to leave me with dark circles the next day, which happens too often to count.  Watching just enough reality TV to get in a little mindless activity and indulge in a guilty pleasure is fun, but too much can leave me feeling truly mindless.

So yes, less can be more, or more can be more.  Just enough is also something to consider.  It is a matter of opinion on what you place your own value in.  Every one's ideas are different.  What is most important in our lives says so much about our character.  I would love to know what you consider less is more, and what is your definition is of more is more.  Do tell.   

Sunday, October 24, 2010


RED...such a good flick.  One of the most entertaining and creative films I have seen in a very long time.  And isn't it just like me to hone in on the romance between Frank (Bruce Willis) and Sara (Mary Louise- Parker)?  The movie is not considered a romantic comedy, but what little romance there was, I thought was heart throbbing.  How romantic I found it to be that Frank would read the books that Sarah was reading, just to have a connection with her.  He had never even met her but he knew her so intimately and fell in love with her, simply by talking to her on the telephone.  Men, when you take the time to really know a woman like that, to know and understand what inspires her, what makes her tick the beautiful rhythm she tocks, find amusement in her silly qualities and character, you will impress her beyond belief.  I also loved how Frankie gingerly treated her.  Like she was a porcelain doll in a case.  Even when he had just been in a total brawl, battered and beaten, he came to her rescue to gently lead her to safety.  He was so concerned about her and wanted nothing more than to protect her and keep her from harm's way.  Can you just feel my heart swoon?

And that John Malkovich?  What a charmer!  I loved him and his pink pig!  And when I grow up, I want to look just like Helen Mirren when she is wearing her beautiful white dress with black combat boots, being swept off her feet by a Russian agent.  Swoon, swoon, triple swoon.  And what about the action?  How hot was it when Bruce stepped with masculine ease out of the car in slow motion as it was spinning out of control?  Hot.  Mad hot.  Men, I am sure you will not notice any of the silly *romanticnesses that I did, because you will be so entranced by all of the amazing action scenes.  But if you do, I will be impressed by your softer side.  

The movie was totally awesome.  I can't give it enough praise!  A+++Musing!!!!  How can you not fall in love with a movie starring Bruce Willis, Mary Louise-Parker, Johnnie Malkovich, Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren, and Richard Dreyfuss?  Truly one of my favorite movies.  I laughed so much during it that I actually clapped-laughed.  That means I was thoroughly amused beyond control.  Please tell me that you will go see it this week?  I will be so excited for you!!  And if you have no one to go see it with, call me.  I would LOVE to go with you!

*I don't know if romanticnesses is in the dictionary or not, but it is a real word to me.

Friday, October 22, 2010


Yesterday was my day of apologies.  Well, I only had two to make.  One here on Musings and one other one.  But the other one is a secret.  No one knows.  Well, two people know.  Speaking of secrets, today I went to the mall with my BFF.  I had to take two pairs of hot jeans back because they were just a little too hot to wear in public.  Then we ventured in to Victoria's Secret where I made a shocking discovery!  Did you know that someone made a perfume just for me?  It's called Secret Charm.  How did they know I LOVE secrets and I LOVE charm?  By the way, I have plenty of it.  Charm, that is.  And secrets.  The scent of this perfume is so intoxicating that I almost wanted to make it my new boyfriend.  It is an aromic, dreamy and steamy concoction of honeysuckle (My nectar.  Remember my friends, the bees?), Gala Apples (my favorite snack, minus the peanut butter), and Stephanotis flowers!  Yes!  There is also a flower named after me!  This yummy perfume smells just like me.  It's true.  So I had to buy a bottle.  Well, I bought two.  One for home and one for my purse.  I wonder why Victoria didn't just send me a case of it?  I was, after all, some one's inspiration.

And what a lucky day for you that you have the chance of a lifetime to see my Handlebar Pete!  Love the shades.  Remember, he is my rumored husband, not my option #2.  Don't we make a cute non married couple?       

Oh, I'm sorry.  I cropped my self out of the picture.  He pulled me in a little too close for comfort and I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression.  I did get Mr. Pete to admit that I was and still am his favorite PTA president ever!  And that he misses me.  I asked him if he was flirting with the new presidency.  He said of course.  He said he likes to make them feel good, because their husbands don't flirt with them anymore.  Let me let you in on a little secret...I don't think that is his motive.  But good news!  He is on Miss Stephanie's matchmaking list, so single ladies, if you're interested and are attracted to his mustache, which by the way, shows zero signs of gray, and if you're diggin the shades, call me for a hook up.  He's gonna love me if I can get him a date!

And just so you know, no one blocks and spikes like my Dollface.  But that's no secret.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

So Sorry

I know when I write some of the things I do, I am at great risk of offending a plethora of people.  I would hope that you would all realize that I think just about everything is funny.  I find amusement in seeing the irony in so many things and am just entertaining myself along the way.  Half the things I make fun of are things I have done.  Like being a former Diet Coke addict.  I am almost positive that all my organs are embalmed in yummy formaldehyde, and I am in no way trying to put myself on a soapbox and say "LOOK AT ME!" and if that is how I am being perceived, I am so ashamed.  People are always more important to me and I really do care about their feelings.  Your feelings.  Nothing is worth hurting someone.  Not even my silly blog.  I am sooo sorry if I did.  I love you all.


Happiness Is...Friends

Elementary school was the best.  Everyone was friends with everyone.  And you didn't find a lot of silly little cliques in those K-5 years.  But when junior high came around, things began to change for me.  I remember those years as being some of the most difficult ones for me.  My father was a wonderful provider but because we had eight children, there was not a lot of extra money.  My mother was a beautiful seamstress and made a lot of our clothing.  Many of her nights were sleepless as she sewed through the wee hours so that we would have something to wear.  I loved my mother's clothing.  I would look through magazines and show her what I wanted.  She was so talented that she could duplicate almost anything.  I was proud to wear the clothes she made me.  I was never embarrassed or ashamed.  I didn't have a lot, but what I did have, I loved.  But in eighth grade something happened that devastated me.  There was this one girl and this one boy who would always laugh when I came in to class.  It was English class.  I knew that I was being made fun of for something, but I had no idea what it was.  Then one day, they let me in on their little secret.  They had been taking a tally on how many times I wore the same three outfits.  I was humiliated.  Especially when I read the title of their intelligent and very important survey.  Stephanie's Ugly Outfits.  Sweet.  In all honesty, my heart went out to my mother.  I cried for her.  For the hours she spent in dedicating herself to such a selfless act of love for me.  I can hardly write about this without my eyes swelling.  Even to this day, that memory brings tears to my eyes.  It was very difficult for me to bear going to that class every day.  After knowing I was being mocked.  I had to put on my toughgirlface and just endure it.  I had to dig deep and decide that I didn't care what anyone thought.  I loved my mom's handmade, sewn with love outfits.  And I loved my mom.  I also had other fun and exciting daily encounters with another group of girls who found it amusing to come up and whisper in my ear that I was the ugliest girl in school.  "And by the way, you look like a boy."  And then they got really brave and bold and began yelling those words to me as I passed by them in the halls.  I will say, that it did quite a number on my self esteem.  That was a much more difficult thing to endure than the silly survey.  I wonder what provokes such meanness in girls.  And at the time I wondered why everyone thought those girls were so cool.  I thought they were cruel.  I cried a lot in junior high.  My eyes were always swollen.  My mom used to ask me why I cried so much.  Back then, I didn't feel like I had a place of refuge, or that one friend that I could confide in.  I am sure that there were lots of other kids at school, going through similar challenges.  And I would guess some went through much worse than I did.  I count my blessings that I made it through.  I am sure the girls who made two years of my life miserable have grown up to be quite lovely.  I am sure they have beautiful families and teach their children to be kind and loving to everyone.  I hold nothing against them and I only want the best for them.  Is it possible to have no malice towards someone but still find mischievous pleasure in clicking the ignore button when they ask to be my facebook friend?  Why don't they have a "H NO!" button on facebook?  I'm going to suggest that.  I think it would be a fun button to click.   

I was blessed to have one very best friend in high school.  She was the kind of friend you always wished you had.  I met her when I was fifteen.  Almost sixteen.  She drove this awesome old truck that she was much too small for.  She looked like a polly pocket driving Ken's 4x4.  It was adorable.  She lived on her own.  In her own apartment.  At sixteen.  She worked for everything she owned.  I admired her then and I look up to her still.  I have a reverent respect for her ability to face trials that I don't know if I would have the strength to endure.  It was a privilege to go and visit her yesterday.  I would drive hundreds of miles and back in one day just to be with a friend in need.  Especially a friend like her.  I went to offer her support and encouragement, like she did for me way back in high school and has continued to do over the past 21 years that we have remained close friends.  My real goal was to talk her in to coming to live with me so I can take care of her for a while.  But she is much too strong and reassured me that she can take care of herself.  Of course she can.  I should have known better.  As I was driving home, I realized that I got more out of our time together than she most likely did.  Spending time with friends who love you and understand you, that never judge you, who can "love you all better" is the most healing and therapeutic remedy there is.  I love that kind of friend.  The kind of friend who just gets you no matter what.  Who you don't have to explain why you feel the way you do, why you do the things you do and say the things you say.  They have this unconditional love and support for you.  You can make a mistake but they don't care and will still think you are as adorable as ever!  They know what your favorite everything is, even that Dahlias are your favorite flower, but can never send them to you because Dahlias are almost impossible to find.  Friends never make you feel silly for being a vegan, in fact they will go out of their way to make sure your order comes out right.  They don't agree with you on everything, but they respect you enough to listen and consider your views.  They find it amusing when you throw your tantrums and patiently let you finish.  They don't always tell you what you want to hear, but they are kind and gentle as they tell you what they think is best.  (Which usually is the best because they can see the bigger picture as you are focusing in on the smaller one.)  Their heart goes out to you when you are sad.  They comfort you when you are lonely and stick up for you when no one else will.  They are your forever advocate.  They come running to your rescue when you feel all alone.  They support you in all your ideas, even if they think they are silly.  They feel prompted to call or text you at just the right times, when you needed to hear from them.  You may not see them very often, but when you do, you pick up right where you left off.  Even if it was twenty years ago.  I love a friend who leaves you better than when they found you.  Who inspires you to want to become a better person.

I suppose I value friends so much because of my earlier years, when I felt all alone.  I appreciate those who touch my life even in the simplest ways.  They leave a lasting impression on me.  I am always thankful for time I get to spend with friends. Thank you to all those who surround me.  I take comfort in knowing you are there.  You make me feel this happy!!

I really don't like this picture, I find it very unflattering, but my friend told me that it was her favorite.  That it represented pure joy and happiness.  She took it.  She made me laugh that hard.  So I put it up for her.  Because happiness is...friends!

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

My Body Is A Temple

I have a lot of pet peeves.  But, I think everyone does.  I try not to go off on them too much because I think it will make me look angry and bitter, two things I swear I am not.  I would prefer to think of myself as passionate.  Some may say too passionate.  Especially when it comes to my lifestyle.  Eating healthy is not about being thin for me.  It's about feeling healthy.  Having endurance and vitality.  My body is a temple and I don't care what you think.  I mean, I do care because I love you, but I hope you understand that I would never change for you.

I'm not even sure if I would classify these things as pet peeves as much as I would call them concerns.  So, these are some concerns of mine.

Now, I know I am walking on thin ice with this one, especially because some of my friends are doing this.  Friends who I love and adore, but I do worry for them.  This concern of mine is HCG.  Is it really as "safe" as it claims to be?  I think it is curious how men don't seem to mind taking a pregnancy hormone.  I know, I know, I know.  The hormone is found naturally in both men and women, but why on earth would the men want to have more of it running through their veins?  It can't be healthy.  And I can't help but wonder if a man takes a pregnancy test while on it, will it come out positive?  Will someone please try it?  I have to know!  I'm kidding.  I already know the answer to that.  Someone should still try it, just for fun.

It makes me giggle when I read about the diet, too.  You can only consume 500 calories a day!  Who on earth wouldn't lose 1-3 pounds a day on a 500 calorie diet?  So, tell me why you would even need to inject yourself with silly HCG?  Oh wait.  Now I remember.  The HCG is there to help you to not feel hungry while you are starving yourself.  Sweet.  I think the best part of the HCG diet is that you don't need to work out while you are on it!  I mean you are advised not to work out while you are on it.  In fact, Dr. Simeon, who created the diet, advises takers to "sit back and relax while your body resculpts itself".  I am pretty sure the only way you can resculpt your body is by lifting weights.  At least that is what Jack LaLanne taught me.  I can see why the "no working out" rule would be so appealing, though.  Exerting any energy is such a nuisance.  Dr. Simeon says working out while taking HCG will cause dizziness, lightheadedness and nausea.  Sounds suspicious to me.  And a fun side affect from HGC is that once you stop taking it, you will experience hair loss, just like we women do after having a baby.  The good news is that you will get to lose your hair multiple times throughout the course of the diet, since I believe there are at least three rounds, right?  So if you have been wanting to thin your hair out because it is too voluptuous, now is your chance!  By the way, the HCG diet is not a new one.  It was introduced back in the early 90's and I am curious as to why it disappeared for a while and now it has made a come back.  If it was such a miracle weight loss drug then, wouldn't we all be thin now?  Nothing beats old school.  Clean eating and working out.  It is the hard way, but the results will last a lifetime.

Now on to concern #2.  Protein drinks.  Another questionable thing.  I have no objection to a clean soy protein drink, although I think they all taste yucky and I consider them useless.  But do you really know what whey is?  Allow me to fill you in.  Whey is the putrid, yellow-green by product of cheese production.  Only about 10% of the milk used to make cheese actually ends up as cheese.  The rest of the unlovely liquid separates out as vile smelling (and tasting) whey.  In the late 70's, there was a frantic search for a way to get rid of it.  Before dairy consumption doubled from 1960 to 1978, it was simply trucked to hog farms and fed to pigs.  (Why do we feed everything yucky to poor Wilbur and friends?)  But it became too expensive to ship.  Strict federal and state regulations prohibited it from being dumped down sewers.  Whey is 100-200 times stronger than residential sewage, yuck, and most sewage plants can not treat it adequately.  Disposal in streams was not an option because whey depletes waterways of oxygen, thus rendering them incapable of supporting marine life.  Disposal on unused land or gravel pits was also unsuitable because of seepage into water supplies.  Many cheese factories just went ahead and dumped the whey surreptitiously and illegally.  The solution hit upon by both the industry and our government was to apply high technology and sophisticated marketing techniques and feed the whey to humans.  Of course!  How else should we get rid of it?  I remember reading about this about ten years ago.  My brothers were all in to drinking their whey protein shakes after working out.  I used to beg and plead them not to.  They didn't care and would guzzle it down while flexing their rock solid biceps at me, claiming that their yucky smelling drinks made them buff.  I couldn't watch or I would gag.

I think it is fascinating how we eat and drink things just because someone tells us it is good for us, without any knowledge of what it really is and where it comes from.  Why do we do that?  I say it's crazy.  And then we feed it to our children.  By the way, the diet industry basically gets this yucky whey for free, only paying a penny per gallon.  It may have gone up in the last ten years to two pennies a gallon.  But, then again, it is considered waste that no one wants so it could have gone down to a ha'penny a gallon.  Now go look at all your labels and see the yummy whey listed in everything from soup mixes, cocoa, pancake batter, Twinkies (yuck), salad dressing, baby food (tragic), breads...the list goes on and on.  See why I make everything from scratch?   Even better, look for casein.  It is another by product of milk that is used to make the strongest wood glues known.  I kind of dig the idea of having that in my body, don't you?

I promise that I have no agenda tonight to try to turn everyone on to the idea of becoming a vegan.  I just beg you to steer clear of those yucky whey drinks and go for a nice clean piece of chicken, fish or egg whites instead.  And I don't care, have a steak!  But I will stick to nuts.

How lucky you are, because now you get to learn about aspartame.  My all time favorite.  It was discovered by James Schlatter, who was a chemist for G.D. Searle pharmaceutical company, doing research on amino acids, working to develop a treatment for ulcers.  He noticed the sweet taste one day (by accident) and decided that there was much more money to be made by this chemical if it was sold as a sweetener.  And he was right.  Brilliant businessman.  By the way, this same sweet tasting chemical was also used to create nuclear weapons.  Shhh.  No one wants you to know that.  It has been rumored that neither Mr. Schlatter nor any of the other top dogs at Searle will ever allow anything with aspartame in it to ever touch the lips of anyone in their family.  I can see why.  I could go on and on about the dangers of aspartame, but I will choose to just touch on a few of my favorites.  Aspartame is a multi potential carcinogen.  It has been linked to many if not all cancers.  It also triggers an irregular heart rhythm and interacts with cardiac medication.  It damages the cardiac conduction system and causes sudden death.  It deletes serotonin and triggers all kinds of psychiatric and behavioral problems.  Aspartame is an endocrine distributing agent, stimulating prolactin, which is a pituitary hormone that changes the menstrual flow and causes infertility in women.  It triggers every kind of birth defect from Autism and Tourette's Syndrome to cleft palate.  Aspartame is also an abortifacient (a drug that induces abortion).  It also causes male sexual dysfunction and ruins female response.  And just one can of Diet Coke makes your body so acidic that you need to drink one gallon of water to bring it down to a healthy alkaline level.     

This is my favorite, though.  Aspartame converts to formaldehyde at 86 degrees.  That formaldehyde converted from the free menthyl alcohol embalms living tissue and damages DNA.  It interacts with vaccines and damages the mitochondria or life of a cell.  How long does our Diet Coke sit on pallets in a 100 degree warehouse or on a 120 degree delivery truck?   If you want to drink a Coke, just drink a real one!

Like I said, I could go on and on.  I just picked out my favorites to share.  I do appreciate how the FDA turns a blind eye to all the studies done by researchers.  All in the name of money.  Sweet.  But I believe that it is our responsibility to be educated on what we put in to our bodies and what we feed to our precious babies.  Not sit and blame others.  We should know better.  To me it is all very simple.  Living foods = Living bodies.  Succumbing to an occasional sinful indulgence is not bad.  And it can be lots of fun.  I think the point is, everything in moderation when it comes to some things, and never when it comes to others. Which is which is your own personal choice.  We all have our sometimes and nevers.  My "never's" are drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes.  My "sometimes" are a secret. 

You didn't realize I was such a wealth of information, did you?  Again, these are the opinions (mixed with lots of research-backed facts) of a silly girl.  Take them or leave them.

Morning Entertainment

(If you are reading this from a cell phone, there is a small chance it will not translate correctly and will not make any sense.  Especially on a Blackberry.)

This is why I consider my morning runs the highlight of my day!  I am so entertained, I can hardly contain myself!

I finally got to see Harry's mistress.  She  will not be requiring an eye exam or a hearing test  seems to have a winning personality. 

Burros.  And a random Sparklett's water bottle.  It makes perfect sense.

Because real deer would totally be walking their delicate little hoofs around on a sea of sharp rocks and graciously agree to pose so nicely for my picture.

My favorite.  Elves.  Don't they look angry?  Santa would be so disappointed if he knew how mean they were to me.  And I'm disturbed at the level of concern the owner has for the little one.  She must be worried that he is suffering from Napoleon syndrome.  Perhaps he confided in her and that is why she gave him a little stepping stool to stand on.  And what is his hand doing up in the air?  I think he might be heiling Hitler!  Or maybe he is just raising his hand, waiting for me to call on him so he can answer all my questions.  Could it be that all he wants is a little high five?  I think I will maintain a safe distance away from him since I can't see what his other hand is getting ready to do to me. 

This owner startled me when she walked out from the side gate, asking me why I was taking a picture of her house.  I told her   "Congratulations!  You have won Henderson's Tackiest Yard Award".   how much I loved how she arranged the deer around her well groomed, prickly cactus garden.  And that when I daydream of the mountains, this is truly the romantic scene that comes to my mind.  I especially admire this home owner's attention to detail by adding the heavenly misted, (I mean heavy handed, spray painted) rocks to resemble white, fluffy, fresh fallen snow.  It makes me want to jump right in and make a snow angel!
NO!!  Your eyes are not playing tricks on you!  That really IS a giant, overstuffed frog with a menacing grin on his face, wearing a ghetto fab necklace around his neck!  Or it could be a toad.  I was too scared to get close enough to tell for sure which cold blooded animal it really was.  And YES!  He is wearing a hoodie!  Because it is sooo cold outside.  I do appreciate the frog/toad's festivity, all ready to say Happy Halloween to all the children who are brave enough to face the creepy toad man's house to say trick or treat.  However, I think I will skip by this house saying "no thank you!" to toad man's salmonella laced candy, Halloween night.  Mr. Toad might try to take me on a wild ride that I am not sure I am willing to go on.

Seriously, not everyone I live by is crazy.  And I live a safe enough distance away from these people to not let their class and elegance rub off on me.  If they ever do get too close to me, I would slip on my slinky cat burglar clothes and kidnap all the faux animals and Harry paraphernalia and place them strategically in Summerlin.  They could use a little more class out there.  Ewe.  I just realized that Harry Reid shares my Mr. Roark's initials.  I will have to call Harry, Gary from now on.  Because he falls in to my Gary Busey category.

I really do love Henderson.  And I can and do appreciate people who walk to the beat of their own drum.  As long as they are walking on the other side of the street.  I'm kidding.  We all know I love everyone!  Even the two Garys.  Even though I am visually and intellectually unstimulated by them.

I do hope I have convinced you to come be my neighbor!  You know you want to.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I Am Loved

Thursday night I may have been having a hard time.  And I may have left a post that could have sounded a little bitter.  If you want to know the truth, maybe a small part of me wanted to run away by my self for the weekend.  Instead, I decided to call up a friend and go out for the night, but I couldn't reach anyone.  Just as I was walking out the door ALL     BY    MY    SELF, a friend came through.  Two.  She was with her boyfriend who graciously came with us.  Which was a real treat because he drives this monster truck that I have always wanted to ride in.  So I fished my wish and it made me really happy!  By the time we got to our destination, I had forgotten all about being stood up.  Being stood up?  It happens all the time.  But, like I said, I can't be mad, right?  If it is no one's fault then why waste my energy being angry?  Being angry is so draining and will give you wrinkles.  Not worth it.  But it still hurts and makes me want to throw a tantrum, but what good will that do?  It would just make me look silly and I always regret making myself look silly.  Now, no one is allowed to be upset with Mr. Smith.  He really can't help it.  Litigation is a beast.

My friends really cheered me up, but I HAD interrupted their date, so my night out was a little too short.  They wanted to leave and go snuggle, I'm sure.  I really could have used a longer night out.  But I am thankful that I was not alone.  Most of the time, I don't have a problem with being all by myself, but that night, I needed some company.  Thank you to all my friends who loved me better that night.

Mr. Smith came home very late.  And he may not have come home to the happiest wife.  I wasn't angry, but I told him that we needed to talk.  He never likes it when I say that but he knows my response is always, "too bad" so he agreed to put on his listenface if I agreed to get in the car and go on our trip.  It was two in the morning.  I wanted to be in my bed.  But I could tell he really wanted to make me happy so I humored him and got my sleepyface in the car.

I won't bore you with the details of our talk (hahahaha) but I will say this:  I am certain Mr. Smith's schedule will not be changing anytime soon.  I will continue to be a supportive wife and find joy in life as it passes and always look forward to the time we do get to spend together.  Like this weekend.  We spent two days at amusement parks and one day at the beach.  Disneyland is truly my #1 choice of vacation spots.  Call me crazy.  I don't care.  Mr. Smith is not a fan.  We take the children at least once a year, but every so often I beg and plead him to take me there alone.  I have loved Disneyland since I was a child.  We are a family of five, with one who doesn't like to go on anything thrilling.  So Mr. Smith or I will stay with her while the other goes with our two oldest on the rides and will sit alone.  Or next to the random old man.  I never like to sit with strangers.  And I miss having someone to sit next to, someone who I can wrap myself tightly around, hide my face in his chest so that I feel safe and protected.  While I am sure the random old man would not mind my shnuggles, I wouldn't want to lead him on.   

Mr. Smith knew he was in trouble Thursday night, so I am sure he thought that the best place to take his unhappy wife was to the Happiest Place On Earth.  And it was.

The following night, we went to Knott's Scary Farm (a place where I left a lot of hockey sticks at) which is a whole other story.  One that I am much too tired to write about tonight.  Oh!  And, I can't forget about the Wedge!  And I must say, my weekend ended with my favorite thing ever!  Rain.  I am very loved.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

What Are The Odds

 ...that I find myself alone in an empty house tonight?  Poor Mr. Smith had an unforeseen deadline and did not make it home for our five o'clock date to go out of town.  He called earlier and said to be ready by five.  Do you know what I went through to have everything done and ready by five?  Hell.  I don't care.  I'm going to say it.  But I refuse to be upset, it is not his fault, but I am out the door to go have my dolled up self a nice Pina Colada.  Virgin, of course.
All       By       My       Self.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


How adorable were the two giggling children in my bushes this evening that left me two perfectly roasted marshmallows on a white paper plate?  And how did they know that I have been daydreaming of roasting marshmallows in the mountains all summer long?  They must have been reading my facebook.  I LOVE random acts of kindness.  They inspire me.  Thank you giggling children.  Whoever you are, she says with a twinkledwink.  I am also a fan of practical jokes, so thank you too, to the trickster who left me a shopping cart on the side of my house.  

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I consider myself a pretty simple girl.  I do not care for a lot of bling.  I can only wear accessories for about an hour and then they start to really bother me, unless it is my leatha or silver cuff.  I live in jeans and tees and if I want to dress up, I will throw on a pair of 5 inch heels.  I can walk in heels.  That is one thing I am very talented in.  I don't like to go to fancy restaurants because they are too stuffy and make me feel uncomfortable.  Unless it is the Tillerman and that is just because I am nostalgic and used to go there as a teenager, for Homecoming and other dances.  I would rather go to a movie than a show on the strip.  But I do dream of going to Phantom one day.  And these days, I would even rather stay in and watch a movie at home, in my pajamas.  And speaking of daydreaming of the mountains, if I could, I would live in a cabin somewhere in the wilderness, but still have a house on the beach.  I would love to have a quaint little library on the west side of the cabin since that is where the sun sets.  I love reading while watching the glow of the sun fall and rest upon the mountains.  I would fill those dark wood shelves with all the classics, mixed with a few more modern reads and a collection of lanterns, old and new.  I love lanterns.  I just started collecting them a year ago.  I don't know why I like them so much.  Perhaps it is because they allow you to see in the dark and that seems to be comforting to me.

I would love to have those wooden ladders in the library, the kind that roll back and forth, but I would add a little place at the top to sit and read so that I wouldn't have to bother coming down if I didn't want to.  I could just stay and read from there.  The house would be mainly made of windows so that I could always look out and see the beautiful trees from every direction.  I would never take it for granted that I get to live amongst them, surrounded by them.  And I would hang a bird feeder from almost every tree so that their beautiful sounds would wake me up in the morning.

We would have cable because I love TMC.  The television would have to go right next to the fireplace so we could watch old movies and the crackling fire, both at the same time.  The kitchen would be right next to the great room so that I could visit with my family and friends while I was cooking for them.  I would need triple ovens so I could bake as many cookies as I wanted at one time.  I would have the best dishwasher money can buy.  Maybe two!  And Mr. Negative would never be an obstacle for me because he is not allowed to live in the mountains.  Only nice people can live there.  I would have lots of pillows on the couches just because I love pillows, but I would never mind if people toss them on the floor.  It would be the coziest home, one that my guests would never want to leave because it would smell like yummy Cookie Chick's cookies and a wood burning fireplace.  I love those smells.  I would make sure everyone felt  like my home was their home.  I would reassure them that they could stay as long as they wished.  There would be a garage full of snow mobiles, bikes, sleds and skateboards.  Everything fun.  Right next to the Range Rover.  I don't even care what color.  Just not navy blue.  And I would drive Miss Rebellious off the nearest cliff.  Of course without me in it.  That's not true.  I would give her to someone who needed her.  Travis.  No.  Travis deserves a new one.  I would buy him a new one. 

I would have a sunk in hot tub right next to a fire pit so that we could roast marshmallows while soaking in bubbles, drinking a daiquiri.  Even better, a Pina Colada.  I forgot, I like those better.  (I just had a dream about that the other night.)  There would be a beautiful garden out side, one that was planted by me, with everything I needed to make the most delicious meals.  There would be a phone for emergencies and a computer for convenience but they would be tucked away in a beautiful antique armoire.  There would be no HALO allowed, but there would be a classic upright Ms. PacMan machine that would not need quarters or tokens to play.  But none of those electronics would be the center focus of the home.  The center of the home would be a huge, hammered, dark wood table with at least twelve chairs.  We would have all of our meals there, the most delicious meals you have ever had, meals that you could tell were made with love.  By me.  We would play board games there every Sunday night and I would never win because I never do.  I only win at card games.  Because I am a clever little vixen.  So, after the kids go to bed, we would play card games.  I would smoke you every time, only because you most likely let me.  Because I had made you such a love-filled delicious meal and you would want to repay me by letting me believe that I had out-smarted you. 

There would be a big hammock outside where every night, we could go out and watch the stars.  We would be able to see every one because we are, after all, living in the mountains...

I do apologize.  I am sure you have heard enough of my daydreams.  I have mentioned before that I have another blog besides this and the vegan one.  It is my other blog, a book blog.  You will always be able to tell when I have been working on that one because my mood shifts from silly-sarcastic to... passionate-daydreamy.

Monday, October 11, 2010

The Hard Way

I tend to learn lessons the hard way, and I think I have decided that I like it that way.

I am pretty sure that I mentioned this before, maybe on Facebook, but every once in a while I will see a random shopping cart in my neighborhood.  Please tell me that you all find them in yours, too?  It drives Mr. Smith crazy and we always think "who in the world?".  Everyone becomes a suspect.  I give it a few days to see if the sweetheart who rolled it in will kindly roll it back out, but then I always end up walking it out of my neighborhood, usually after midnight, and strategically placing it where it can't be seen by me anymore.  But I had to learn that the hard way, because the first time I saw a shopping cart in my neighborhood,  I decided to be the bigger person and walk it back to the store.  I am sure you can imagine what an exciting adventure that was for me.  Especially as I walked by the high school.  The comments that were bestowed upon me were so uplifting and motivational.  Those high school boys could put Tony Robbins out of his hokey pokey job.  My self esteem had never been higher.  And the looks I received from passers by?  I got zero smileyface looks of "what a good citizen that woman is", which is what I totally deserved.  Not a one.  I did, however, get the meanface stare downs from hell, I mean hockey sticks.  It was humiliating.  And the closer I got to the ghetto, the more shopping carts I found.  I ended up returning four that day.  I'm serious.  Every time I saw another one, I thought, "oh, fine!  I might as well".  By the way, the store is way further than it seems from my house, and those four shopping carts were not nice to me and I could tell they had not learned the art of cooperation from anyone.  It was almost impossible to control them.  But I didn't quit.  My eyes may have started to swell and a tear or two may have been allowed to fall, but I refused to give in.  Trust me, I could have easily left them in one of the many different neighborhoods that I had to walk through to get to that store.  And they probably would have fit in nicely and perhaps made a pleasant addition to some.  But I didn't.  

The hard way may not always be the funnest, but I am still convinced that it is the better way.

I don't own a KitchenAid, a Bosch, or a bread machine.  Shocking, I know.  Everyone thinks I'm crazy but I actually like making cookies and bread with a wooden spoon.  I swear it makes them taste better.  I don't like store bought frosting or jam so I make my own.  I enjoy doing my own gardening and I wash my own windows.  I sew my own dresses because I can and I'm very talented at making them fit my body like they were made for it, which of course, they were.  And when I decided to replace all my baseboards, I used a miter box and a hand saw.  Oh, and a hammer and a sinker tool from my "Her Tools" box that I received as a bridal shower gift.  I think it was supposed to be a joke but I took it seriously.  I did borrow my brother's power saw when I did the crown molding in my powder room, but that was because I could not get the angles right on the miter box and I was wasting all that expensive material.  I will admit that after I used the power tools, I seductively whispered "where have you been all my life?" to them.  I kind of fell in love.  So, needless to say, if we ever have a natural disaster and we are without power for a long stretch of time, I will at least be able to help rebuild houses and bake cookies for everyone.   Yes, I will be able to bake because I learned at girl's camp how to make an oven out of a cardboard box and tin foil.  I am still hand washing my dishes but only because I am disputing Mr. Negative's false assessment that my dishwasher is broken due to the overuse of soap on my part.  Once again, I only ever used half the dose of soap.  A dishwasher is one luxury I do miss and one I desperately need back.

Yuck.  It sounds like I am gloating.  I'm sorry.  Wonderful me is not the point.  The point is that there are many lost arts.  Wouldn't you agree that we live in a very "I want it now" world?  I like knowing that if all of our modern conveniences were taken away tomorrow, I could still survive.  That's why I like to do things old school and why I think learning the hard way is the better way.  I will say that I highly dislike washing my own car, though.  I could use a good recommendation on a wonderful new car wash to take Miss Rebellious to so she can have her mouth washed out with soap.  Did I mention that she would not close her sliding door and made me drive her home with it open?  And for the record, I like knowing how to do everything just in case I need and have to, and I have said this before but it is worth repeating,  I consider myself very feminine and go crazy mad for chivalry so I would always prefer a man to do things for me.        

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Options and Invitaions

Since it is dark and scary outside, I asked Mr. Smith if he would please drive behind me while I go for a run, or perhaps he might think it was fun to run with me.  He asked me what option three was.  I told him I could always ask my option three husband to go with me instead.  Actually, I am not tempted easily and have rather high standards, so my options list only goes to number two.

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To all my dear friends who read my blog, I ask a favor of you.  I may have sent you an invite.  Not one to play a mindless game with me, not one to attend a jewelry party, and not an invitation to accept a heart or a flower.  I sent you a request to please follow my blog.  You might not even know you have it.  It can be found by clicking the application icon on your facebook page.  Normally I would never send or ask such a thing, and I feel really silly asking you, but I need at least twenty followers to be an official Networked Blogs user.  Not having enough keeps my hands tied, and I am not a girl who enjoys being constrained.  So if you love me, you will accept.  I'm just kidding.  Only do what you feel comfortable doing.  I never get offended and if I ever do get my feelings hurt, it only lasts for a day or two.  So if you choose to ignore, I will still love you.  And if you haven't gotten an invite, it is because I can only send out nine at a time, but you can choose to follow me without it.  Just go down to the Networked Blog box at the bottom of this page and click *follow this blog!  Thank you!!!   


Makes Me Go Bananas, Crazy, Wild Happy!

Yesterday was a "what the bejellybeans" day.  I was tempted to say something else, but Mr. Smith says I shouldn't say heLL.  "Even though those aren't L's, they are hockey sticks?", I asked.  "Even though", he said.  Fine.  Just know that I want to, because it was truly a what the hockey sticks day.  But I will refrain and say bejellybeans instead.      

My day started out with what I thought was a ten mile run.  For whatever reason, the night before, I mapped out ten miles one way, instead of five miles there, and five miles back.  "What the bejellybeans?"  That's what I thought when I realized what I had done.  Sweet.  But, you know what?  I made it.  There were moments when I thought I might pass out, but I soldiered up and made it home.  I didn't even stop once and walk.  But the blessing that came from my twenty mile hockey sticks of a run was that I got to witness another beautifully decorated yard!  Yay!  It was much more creative than the deer and elf yards.  This classy home was all dolled up in "Vote for Anyone But Harry Reid" paraphernalia.  They had ever so elegantly placed beautifully hand painted signs on every tree, fence and even upon the house itself.  What the bejellybeans?  I could hardly believe my eyes!  No way could someone have that much animosity towards someone else.  I actually felt a lot of compassion for this poor person.  And poor Harry Reid.  No one deserves that.  I could never survive in a world with that much hate for someone else.  It would hurt my heart and make me age twice as fast!  

I have seen people sticker up their cars with "Dump Harry Reid" signs.  Now I know which garage they park in at night.  In the crazy garage.  I feel bad, but I think I might have to put these people on my "Super Crazy List".  Right above Michael Jackson fans.  But, just like the crazy deer and elf people, they are definitely security savvy.  I would never, ever, ever attempt to break in to their home.  I wouldn't even want to solicit there.  But you have no idea how tempted I was to knock on the door and ask what the hockey sticks could Harry Reid have done to that man to provoke such an outward display of vengeance?  My guess is that Harry must have done something truly sinister to this man.  Scandalous even.  Like "lured his wife away" scandalous.  I have to know.  I bet it was that.  And if it was, I demand to see what his wife looks like.  If she is cute, I would give her an eye exam.  If she passed I would order a hearing test because I bet a million dollars she scores a low D or an F, and I'm a lenient grader.  Have you ever heard Harry talk politics?  I simply can not help myself.  I am turned off every time.  I do wonder why his son Rory has chosen to run as plain old Rory and not claim his last name.  I'm sure it was an executive decision by the artist based on how it looked graphically on the sign. 

I have to admit that I know of a few good deeds Harry has done for others.  Just because I don't agree with his politics doesn't mean he isn't a good person in other ways.  I will not be voting for him, but if I saw him, I would flash him a mischievous twinkled smile and shake his finger pointing hand.  Compliment him on his passionate fight against Yucca Mountain.  But, I might feel the need to chastise him for stealing that poor man's wife.  But then again, her husband is a bit hateful and I suspect he might have a slight temper.  I can see why she may have been swooned by Harry's kind and gentle disposition.  By the way, and totally off the subject, Mr. Ross Miller:  What the hockey sticks?  I am so disappointed.  I do hope you reconsider and send out those absentee ballots to our military, so that they, some of America's finest, the men and women who can't physically be present to place their vote because they are fighting for our country, can have the opportunity to still cast one this coming election.  Are you worried how they might vote?   I think you might be trying to give Harry Reid an advantage.  Ross, remember when we double dated back in high school?  Remember when I set you up with that amazing girl?  Do me this one favor.  Reconsider.  Send out those absentee ballots.  It's only fair and it's the right thing to do. 

Well, that was my morning.  My afternoon was spent at Hash House A Go Go, which I say is a no go.  I loved the concept and creativity, and the music was awesome.  And I did admire the cuteness and festivity of all the workers dressed up in their Halloween costumes.  Until my waiter showed up with his face painted like the Joker.  What the bejellybeans?  It was a little creepy to me.  It kind of made me not so hungry anymore.  And he was not so happy.  Aren't clowns supposed to be funny?  He was neither fun nor funny.  Just grumpy.  The menu looked interesting, but the flavor was lacking.  A little salt and a fresh herb garden would do wonders for that place.  Oh, and less batter and fry.  I decided to just stick with my fresh squeezed orange juice to avoid possible heart failure.  Oh, and a word of advice, one dish could have satisfied my cute little family of five, and we still would have all gone over our recommended daily caloric intakes.

My day ended with a date down by the lake to see Macbeth.  The weather was breathtaking and I love Shakespeare, so I was in heaven.  It was very reminiscent of my youth when we would go to Foxridge to see Shakespeare in the Park.  I loved that park.  I am too nostalgic.  And I love everything old school.  Anyway, last night was such a beautiful night that I thought, "What the bejellybeans?  Maybe I should splurge and have some chocolate".  I had forgotten how happy chocolate makes me!  Embarrassingly happy.  Go bananas, crazy, wild happy!  After not having it for months, I think it made me high.  Now I see why some people say what they say about that sinful indulgence.  I agree.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Something Amazing

I don't remember how long ago, maybe a month or so, I lost one of my favorite places.  My car wash.  It may sound like a silly thing to feel so sad about, but I loved it.  More than the car wash itself, I loved the people who worked there.  I took my car there every Friday morning.  Sometimes I went on a Monday, but for the most part, I was a Friday Regular.  The boys that worked there were always so nice to me.  And I am not talking about "creepy, I want your number" nice.  They were friendly to everyone.  Of course I would like to think that I got special treatment, but I know better.  So when I got the news that they had closed, I was truly upset.  But, the first thing that came to my mind was my friend there, who, just the week before, told me how excited he was to be having his first baby.  He told me all about the mother of his soon to be baby boy, he told me how they were looking to buy a safe car, how he was working hard so they could move out of his mother's home and in to a place of their own.  He is who I thought about when I got that news.  That boy, the friend who's name I had forgotten.  I desperately wanted to find him.  I wanted to buy his baby a crib.  I wanted to give him my rebellious car.  She might treat him better and he would most likely appreciate her more than I do.  I tried to get a hold of the owner of the car wash.  I emailed him but never got a response.  I left a message for him, but he never returned my call.  I really didn't expect him to.  I gave up, but I never have forgotten about this boy.

Now, I never, ever, ever have money in my wallet.  But on the special occasions that I do, I always, always, always run in to someone who needs it way more than I do.  A few days ago, I was at the bank and for what ever reason, I pulled out a nice sum of cash.  I had forgotten that I even had it in my purse.

This evening, I was at Target with my Bells.  We were on a mission to find vampire teeth.  Can you imagine what I did when I saw this boy, my friend from the car wash, walking towards me with a big smile on his face?!!!!  Yes!!!  I screamed and ran up to him but stopped mid arm throwing hug because I noticed a pregnant and glowing girl with him and I didn't want to raise any concerns.  I told them both everything I just told you.  How he was always so good to me, that I was so worried about him when I found out the car wash had closed.  He told me the details of that day when he found out that he was out of a job, what his struggles have been since, and what his plans for right now are.  They told me that they were there at Target registering for their baby shower.  How they are expecting on December 28th, and how excited they are to become parents.  I asked them if I could write down their information so I could send them a gift.  As I was going for a pen in my purse, I saw the money that I had taken out earlier in the week.  I was incredibly thankful that I had it and ever so thrilled to be able to give it to them.  My trip to Target was meant to be.  I love nights like this.

I have been so tempted to buy that car wash.  Hire everyone back.  Open a Cookie Chick's Bakery inside.  Wear jeans and a cute little apron and walk around in pink high heels.  Well, I would start the day off in heels but would end up kicking them off.  I know you all would come and support me, let me make you a smoothie.  Visit with me while drinking that smoothie and eating the best cookie ever.  A cookie that would knock your socks off, while getting the best car wash ever!  My boys would treat you good and so would I.  

By the way, the boy's name is Travis.  I won't ever forget again.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Another Apology, Another Facebook Pet Peeve

This morning I am reflecting on a comment I posted on Facebook last night about mindless and idle activity.  I asked myself if mindless and idle activity was really that bad.  I have decided that I don't think it is!  Don't we all need some once in a while?  I guess the real danger lies in whether we can show some self control and not overindulge.  I will, and always have been able to admit, that Facebook is a guilty pleasure of mine.  It has been known to pull me away for lengths of time from other more important things.  However, I have reeled myself back in to reality and only indulge once in a while now.  I think Facebook is amusing and entertaining.  I can't believe I rebelled against it for so long.  I apologize Facebook.  I should have never judged you!  You have been good to me so far.  Of course my only complaint has been those irritating habits that I refer to as my "Facebook Pet Peeves", which reminds me of another one...

I love when people post something like this:  "Tell me a story you remember about me."  OR  "Remind me of how we met."  Maybe it's just me, but it sounds a little vain and narcissistic.  I think I would be frightened to open the door to everyone's recount of a story about what and how they remember me.  And then to post it in a public forum?  No thank you.  I am almost positive I do not want to know.  Unless it is really good and then you can message me later.  And if someone is finding it difficult to remember how we met, then my feelings are hurt and I have a tear in my eye because I am obviously unmemorable and no longer in the mood to remind them.

Personally, I would prefer to learn more about you!  A majority of my FB friends are from high school and we have not seen nor spoken to one another in many, many years.  I think if I was going to ask a question on Facebook, it would be this.  "Tell me something that I don't know about you."  That's more fun for me!  And if you were to ask me that question, you would find out a lot of juicy stuff.  Like... it takes me twice as long to do my housework because I listen to my iPod when I clean.  I can't help it, I have to stop by every mirror in the house so I can dance in it for a while.  And I have many mirrors in my house.  Not for vanity's sake, but for dancing's sake.  And because of this silly habit, I have perfected quite an inspirational and moving routine to Ice Ice Baby.  Can you see it?  No.  Well, maybe at the next reunion.  If you're lucky.  Or at my baby brother's wedding.  You might also learn that I just signed up for belly dancing classes, just in case I visit Morocco or some other Middle Eastern country one day.  I would want to blend in.  Or, I might need to seduce my way out of a scary situation.  By the way, did you know that you use more of your hips and lower back to belly dance?  You would think it would be your belly, but it's not!  I might also tell you that I now have rather unsightly scars on my wrist because of an accident with a shattered punch bowl, but that I have decided that they are sexy because so does my favorite female book character.  And you would learn that she is only my favorite female book character because she intoxicated my HR and won his heart, so she must be some kind of wonderful.  Actually, I am kind of jealous of her.  I wish I was her.  But envy is not a virtue that wears well on me so I am trying to get over it and be happy for her.

I could share a lot more, but I have to save some of my mystery.  I am very complex.  You can't know everything all at once!

Regarding yesterday's post...What can I say?  I was feeling a little passionate yesterday.  I have one apology to make, though.  My comment about me not having faith in our judicial system was misspoken.  It is not true.  I do.  I was just feeling upset about a certain judge who forgets that her job is to do what is best for sweet and innocent children who are at the mercy of adults that should be protecting them.  This judge has her own agenda.  I actually think, for the most part, that we have a pretty decent judicial system.  Did you think I was going to apologize for something else?  How silly of you!

More Honey Than Bite

I am feeling a little feisty today.  It might be because of my walk this morning.  I am still not well but I needed some fresh air so I decided to go for a walk.  The walk that turned in to a run when a swarm of persistent honeybees tried to devour me.  I can't really blame those cute little honeybees, though.  How can they help themselves around such a sweet aroma?  I am all nectar.  Is there such a thing as a honey with a little bit of bite?  That is what those honeybees are making tonight. 

I love wearing my Sarah Palin tee.  I am wearing it today.  I was wearing it during my walk this morning.  I bought it in San Fransisco during my anniversary trip two years ago.  Yes, they do sell conservative souvenirs in The City of Complications.  I was shocked, too!  It was a men's style tee, not so flattering, so I brought it home and altered it to fit me like a glove.  I happen to love Sarah.  I get in to some fun banters with people when I wear it.  Say what you want about my Sarah, but she is all woman.  A woman to be admired.  I respect every one's opinions and will always listen.  Sometimes with only one ear open.  But I do listen.  What I just don't get are the women libbers who hate Sarah Palin.  I thought your whole philosophy was to empower women?  I thought you loved to see women gain positions of strength and try to make real contributions to society?  I thought you liked independent women who can stand up for what they believe in and use their intellect to make decisions that they feel would better their lives and the lives of our future generations?  But, as it turns out you only support the women who believe the same as you do, yet you claim to provide a "safe space for diverse dialogue".  You say that your agenda is to encourage woman in civic involvement, promote self sufficiency, activism, spiritual health, and general wellness.  You wish to connect individuals (women) to new ideas, information, organizations, and to each other.  So I am confused at your hatred and vengeance towards Mrs. Palin.  I knew you hated men, but I thought you loved and supported women.  All women.  Doesn't Sarah exhibit all those qualities that you claim to admire, teach, encourage?  Oh well.  You're smart.   

I believe I am the true feminist (using my own definition of the word) because I admire any woman who is brave enough to say what she feels and fight for what she believes in, especially when she is willing to throw herself in to the public eye and chance ridicule and mockery.  Whether I agree or not with that woman's politics, ethics, or ideals, she still gets my recognition and respect.  As do the men who display the same qualities that I find so respectable and admirable.  By the way, Sarah did not blow it for McCain.  McCain blew the race all by himself when he just wouldn't come out and say what we all wanted to hear.  Telling us what he really believed in and stood for.  He held back for whatever reason.  Sarah never holds back.  I wonder if it's true that Sarah and Glen Beck are thinking about running in 2012?

Can I take a minute and just say how impressed I am with Sarah's daughter, Bristol?  I was so happy when I heard she was getting back together with Ricky Hollywood.  I would totally take back a guy who left me and his new baby and posed for Play-whatever.  And it wouldn't bother me one bit if he decided to pursue a promiscuous and reckless career, badmouthed my family to the press, or called my sweet little baby brother a word I won't even repeat.  To me, that man who Bristol will wed herself to screams of all class and integrity.  There is nothing sexier than a man like that.  I can totally understand why Bristol finds him so irresistible.

In all sincerity, I wish I could have been Bristol's mentor.  I would have taught her to recognize all the red flags.  I learned a lot from Mistake #1.  But I am sure Sarah tried her best to help her daughter and I have faith that Bristol will come around.

Since my mind is focused on politics, I must say something about immigration.  Get ready or skip ahead, because my seriousface is on.  I have mixed emotions on that subject.  I heard a lecture quite a few years ago given by a very wise man.  He spoke about how nations crumble when their birth rates decline, as it threatens a nation's prosperity.  That is just what is happening in our country right now.  It is normal to see a decline during times of financial crisis.  Birth rates plummeted in the 1930's during the Great Depression and they are now, during this Great Recession.  But, we are experiencing a higher decline in birth rates today.  People find it worrisome to have children when facing financial difficulty, perfectly understandable.  However, and thankfully, the Hispanic population has been helping to maintain our country's birth rates for many years.  It is true.

All this controversy on what the immigration laws should be promotes a deep concern in me.  For reasons such as this, I highly dislike blanket rules and laws.  I believe there is always an exception to almost every rule.  I prefer "rules" that are regulated on a case by case basis.  I hate to see families ripped apart.  Families that have been here for generations.  Good people who are working hard to provide for their children, their elderly, and who contribute to our society in a positive way.  People who choose not to misuse or abuse our welfare system.  If you assume this is not happening, that families are not being ripped apart, you are being very naive.  Like I said, I can see all sides on this subject, but I worry about what the immigration laws will look like.  Especially because of all the crazy judges who do and rule whatever and however the want.  I wish I could say that I have faith in our judicial system, but when I see a drugged out mother, who allows abuse to happen, gain custody over a clean, hard working father who is in tears and can't understand how a judge can do such a thing, I lose my faith.  Sadly, that happens every day.  I wish I was a Family Court judge. 

Now, of course I am not talking about allowing everyone and anyone who wants to come here to be given free reign to do so.  I believe this country is a very blessed one.  I think it is a privilege to be here and I consider myself so fortunate to have been born here.  I believe everyone should enter legally and within the guidelines that are set up.  And of course I am not talking about the criminals and drug lords.  I went to court with my husband one day and watched as rows and rows of men, the majority being illegal Hispanic men, all plead guilty to some very awful and vile crimes.  Their punishments were so soft that they were allowed to go.  I witnessed them walk back in to our society, on to our streets, amongst our children.  It horrified me.  Personally, I think all of our criminals and drug lords should be sent off to Alcatraz.  What will it take to get that place up and running again?  From what I saw, it is the perfect place for our criminals and drug lords to take rest.  It just needs a good wipe down and it will be fine.  

We should tighten our borders to protect us from evil but be wise enough to recognize those who dream of a better life.  Those who are willing to do what is required to become contributing members of our society.  That was the essence of the dream and the foundation on which our country was founded upon.  It is what our forefathers fought for.  Other than the (American) Indians, we are all products of immigration.  We should be lenient to those who have established a home here and who are living good lives.  I have heard many thoughts on immigration but have never heard of anyone speak about how it has helped our country to grow and flourish and allowed our birth rates to not decline to alarming numbers.  Numbers that would threaten our nation's prosperity.  I suppose it takes a silly girl to point it out.

I hear so many complaints on how the Hispanics are taking advantage of our welfare system, yet I see plenty of our own doing the same.  PLENTY.  We should require it of everyone to become self reliant and create incentives for those who do, especially the small business owners.  And say what you will about Hispanics taking away your jobs, but I hear many of you non-Hispanic people say that you are unwilling to consider an opportunity unless it pays a certain amount, and so you will continue to take an unemployment check until something better comes along.  Forgive the Hispanics for being humble enough and appreciate any opportunity to work and make money to support their families.  They are not taking your jobs away.  They are accepting an opportunity that you were too prideful to take, so, in my opinion, you do not deserve it.  Did you ever think that by taking that job, the one that doesn't meet your salary requirements, that it might possibly open a door for you to progress and be promoted to a better position?  Kindly take a moment to contemplate and study that out in your mind. 

I loved what Ronald Regan did for the state of California.  His state welfare system required people to work the state farms and factories as a form of pay back for assistance.  Why are we not doing more of that?  If we did, we might also be able to stop relying on other countries to supply us with some of our most basic needs.  Did you know that even some of our eggs come from as far as China?  Yuck.  (Please support your local farmers.)  People need to work.  It is how they gain self respect, learn self reliance, and gain the motivation for personal growth.  But if we just give everything away with no expectation of a return, how are we helping?  I wonder sometimes if our government prefers to have it's people rely on them.  It reminds me of this king I once heard of...

My mouth has gotten away from me again.  I think I got my moxie back.  Will anyone be speaking to me tomorrow?  Remember, I am more honey than bite. 

**As a side note and since I mentioned him earlier, I am not the biggest fan ever of Glen Beck.  I do appreciate his passion and insight, most of his politics and his morals, but I might like him more if he didn't have such an obnoxious personality.  I find it hard to take him seriously.  I prefer to listen to Sean Hannity, but I try to watch all the news channels because I like to be fair and balanced.  I also have a strong suspicion that Ayn Rand might be Rush Limbaugh's mother, or grandmother.  And if I missed the news where Bristol and Ricky broke up again, I apologize for my ignorance.  It has been weeks since I watched TV or read a People magazine.  And I do realize that it may sound as though I am contradicting myself when I innocently make fun of people but then post about being judgmental.  If you are one of the lucky or unlucky to really know me, you recognize my sarcasm as a token of my love and affection.  I might not agree with you, but I do love you.  Even my women libbers!  Even my PETANS, even Michael Jackson...maybe that's pushing it too far.**