For any of you Twitterers out there, I just want to let you know that you can now follow me on Twitter! Be assured that I am not interested in posting every detail of my "exciting" life, but I will attempt to answer the question, "what are you doing?" at least every once in awhile.
Ever notice that the best parties are the ones that just "happen?" You know, they're the ones that you don't really plan, but you invite a couple of people over....and then a couple more people come over....and then someone brings snacks....and before you know it, it's a PARTY!
Well, that's kinda the way I decided to host a lil' party with the Ultimate Blog Party by 5 Minutes for Mom. I didn't really plan to, but then one thing led to another...and voila!
Welcome to a thrown-together, last minute, but really great-because-great-people-are-there-and-there's-food party!
Let me show you around and tell you about myself.
Here's where I live:
No, I don't have a book about my house, that's a picture my daughter photoshopped for a class project.
Here are my three favorite young people, my Elle, Em and G.T.
I'm a little scatter-brained. Here's proof.
We have a lazy old dog and a stray donkey named Flash. The cats have disappeared.
And since you're here, I'd love to invite you to come back to visit often! I'm hosting "Sanctuary is in the Small Things, 2008" and each day I'm posting fun and EASY things you can do to make your home a great place to be for your family. I've got music to help get you motivated every morning (that explains the funky tunes you hear) and prizes to give away each month. Feel free to browse around the "Sanctuary's in the Small Things" posts and see what I'm talking about. All the information you need is in the "sticky post" at the top of the blog! We've got a great group of "Company Girls" that join in every day from all over the world. We're having a blast so why not join us?
Enjoy the party!
The newly constructed house was a beehive of activity. Every work crew was there, from the plumbers and painters to the landscapers and electricians. Everyone was trying to finish the house on time, and I was in the middle of it. The mural I was working on was taking longer than I had anticipated so I was painting as fast as I could to beat the clock. I kept thinking I would take a break, but it was a 20 minute drive to town and I didn't want to take the time, so I kept going.
Oh. Important side note: I should tell you that there was no electricity in the house. Or running water. That meant that there were no functioning potties. In fact, the toilets had not even been installed.
Not a problem at 9 am.
BIG PROBLEM AT 4:30 p.m.
Late that afternoon I suddenly realized that the uncomfortably full feeling in my bladder was now excruciating and I was about to experience a disastrous accident.
I looked around. There were people EVERYWHERE. A bush was out of the question. The port-a-potty was tipped over, plus I don't care how bad I had to go, I would never use one at a construction site, EVER. A bumpy drive to town? I would never make it.
By now, I was starting to panic. I spied an empty Big Gulp cup and knew I would have to use it. But where? I grabbed it and started looking for a private location. Everywhere I turned, there were people--all men. I felt like everyone was watching me carrying this cup, looking for privacy. Did they know? Could they tell? Lord, pleeeeze help me hold it! Those darn pregnancies...
Finally, I found a closet. It was pitch dark in there. Perfect.
Only there were no handles on the doors yet, just round holes where they would go. Great, just great. I can't even lock the doors, and there were two. I'd have to take my chances that no one would come through the one at the other end of the closet.
I had no choice. I shut the door. I fumbled with the zipper. I set the cup down and squatted, holding it upright with one hand while reaching up to hold the door closed with the other hand over the door knob hole, balancing precariously over the cup, my knees about to give out...all in the pitch black darkness. Dear God, please don't let anyone come barreling through that other door!
Honey, I filled that Big Gulp cup right up to the brim.
The relief was euphoric! Yes! YESSSS!
Now I have a very full Big Gulp cup on my hands. What am I going to do with it? I gathered myself and tried to look nonchalant as I left the dark closet with that full cup. There was literally NO PLACE to pour it out without being seen. I cannot believe I am walking around with a huge cup of warm pee.
I decided I would drive it to a nearby empty lot. I carried it to the truck and set it in the cup-holder. Lord have mercy, I'm driving with urine in my cup-holder!
But no, not so fast. Just as I'm pulling out, the builder pulls up in his gigantic F3500 truck and wants to chat through the window. My mouth is moving, but my mind is only on the very full Big Gulp cup sitting in plain view of this man. Am I making any sense? Will he think that's lemonade? Beer? Please let him think that's beer! (I don't drink but, hey.)
Finally! He stops yakking and I smile a polite "good-bye" and drive slowly away so I won't jostle the liquid. Seriously, the cup was that full.
Well, I learned MY lesson! A 40ish woman who's had 3 kids and no bladder control has no business ignoring nature's call or there will be consequences.
And always, ALWAYS have a Big Gulp cup on hand, just in case of emergency.
I found this over at Jill-Simply My Thoughts. Jill has proudly displayed her "I'm a Company Girl" button right at the top of her page!
I couldn't resist taking this little quiz. I laughed right out loud at my analysis: If I'm THAT easy to analyze from my coffee tastes, what must my sandwich preferences say about me? (Pepperjack cheese means I get along well with others but I'm a little spicey?) I'll save that one for professionals to speculate.
***What Your Latte Says About You***
You are easygoing and pretty simple to please. You don't put up a fuss... ever.
You can be quite silly at times, but you know when to buckle down and be serious.
You have a good deal of energy, but you pace yourself. You never burn out too fast.
You're addicted to caffeine. There's no denying it.
You are responsible, mature, and truly an adult. You're occasionally playful, but you find it hard to be carefree.
You are expressive and friendly, but you are never pushy.
What Does Your Latte Say About You?
Go find out at:
Last week I wrote about Regrets. Several of you commented with such thoughtful, insightful words that I think I may have to do a follow-up. And then there was a comment from Kitty, one of my favorite story-tellers, making reference to an "unfortunate fake ID incident."
Well, you don't just get off leaving a cryptic reference like that and then go whistling back to your own little blog! Oh no, Missy! That was like waving chum in front of a hungry shark: I just HAD to know the rest of the story. So she emailed the whole sad tale to me, and I (sympathetically, of course) laughed through the entire thing. What are friends for? With her permission, I'm sharing her regrettable (but highly entertaining) adventure here:
Here goes. I've never been much of a drinker, but I am one year younger than all my friends. So when I was almost 20 they all started spending the weekends at this really fun bar and I felt left out. I got hold of my older cousin's ID. I have a ton of girl cousins and IDs were passed around a lot over the years. Which is why I wouldn't blog about this, as my mother reads my blog and I don't want to get anyone in trouble.
Keep in mind that I am now 30 and people sometimes think I'm a teenager. I was so worried about this when I was pregnant and my fingers were too swollen to wear my wedding ring. I could just imagine people thinking, "Oh, look at that poor, gigantic, unwed teenage mother." Also, when solicitors call they occasionally ask for my mom or dad. So I looked and sounded about 11 when I was 19-going-on-20. Trying to pass for 24.
Goodness, I'm making a short story long.
So the ID photo didn''t look all that much like me. It looked like... you know, my cousin or something? With big late eighties hair. It was now 1997 or so. I don't think it had expired, but my cousin lived in a small town and she hung on to that big bang look longer than necessary. I applied heavy eyeliner and teased my hair trying to match the photo. My friend drilled me about "my" date of birth, astrological sign, high school graduation year, etc. I reminded my friends about a dozen and a half times, "don't forget to call me CARA!"
When I got to the bar the bouncer let in everyone in my group. Even my friend's younger sister with a fake id. When my turn came he took one look at me and burst out laughing and told me to go home. He didn't even want to see my ID! I was soooo offended. After all, I was only one year younger than the rest of the group. It wasn't THAT ridiculous that I could be 21, rather than practically 20. That's when my red hair kicked in and got the best of me. Instead of making the obvious choice - heading home with my tail tucked between my legs... I made a scene. I absolutely insisted (bold-faced lied) that I WAS not just 21, but twenty-FOUR. Indignantly. Very huffy-like. I literally held up the line until that bouncer agreed to look at my TOTALLY VALID driver's license, which was very CLEARLY me! Harumph!
So then the bouncer told me that either he would confiscate my ID and I could go home or he would summon the police to verify my age. Did I back down? NO!! Surely if I still stood by my ID he would realize that it must be the truth and back down. What I failed to realize was that there was a policewoman on patrol walking up and down the block full of bars. I was envisioning a phone call, which would give me a few minutes to make my exit, if necessary. About two seconds after I told him to go ahead and call the authorities (kinda snotty-like, too), he waved her down.
So then I had the pleasure of being totally humiliated in front of the entire line of bar patrons and those passing by. I was given a citation and later had to go down to the police station and was officially arrested (fingerprints and everything!) for said unfortunate incident. I recently found out about the concept of expungement, so fortunately that silly evening no longer part of my permanent record.
So that is my VERY long (sorry!) story, which I realize does not paint me in a very flattering light. It is obviously the most stupid thing I've ever done. I do tend to lose my temper (okay, mind) when my feelings/pride are hurt, which still gets me into trouble to this day.
I rarely share this story, for obvious reasons. But I tend to remember it when I hear about teenagers and young people doing stupid things. Kinda keeps me humble.
I love Kitty's last lines, don't you? Thanks for sharing! Take a minute and go get to know her more over here, (look for her hilarious bra story) and maybe leave her a comment to let her know her regret is safe with the Company Girls.....
It's a dismal realization to learn that I am a mere shadow in my family's photographic history. In many photos, I am the fuzzy backround figure in a sharp image of my children mugging for the camera. In others I am caught frantically trying to scoop up household debris before the snap of the shutter. Too late! There's my backside, bending over while the cute kids smile, unconcerned that their house will forever look like a war-ravaged zone in our albums. Don't they care?
Sure, I'm in the holiday pictures in front of the tree. There are some with me cooking. I've got some Mother's Day pictures in my bathrobe, eating breakfast in bed and looking like I just woke up.
But there are few, few pictures I would deem worthy enough to say, "Now THAT's a good one to put on my blog for anyone in the world to see, especially after I've criticized famous people's hair!
So I snuck into my daughter's bathroom to quietly take some self-portraits on a Good Hair day. The humidity level was just right, and the pouffy look (which can surprise any of us with its random appearance) was thankfully, not present. However, I learned the hard way just how difficult it is to get a good shot of one's head in the mirror, especially without one's teenage son around.
Here's one of the "better" ones I took:
Its really hard to get centered AND focused, obviously.
This one's not bad, but the flash is right in my face:
I happened to find this out-of-focus (big surprise, there) shot of me filming my son's hockey game.
So, for both of you who wanted to see the 'do, that's all I got. That's gonna have to do you until after this year's "family-in-front-of-the-tree" shot.
PS Sorry for the music, but I couldn't resist. I'll take it down tomorrow......
I have a thing about good hair. I've mentioned it here and here. In a perfect world, I would have Posh Spice's hairstyle. It's cute, it's bold, and it's expensive. Those are three words aren't often in the same sentence as "Rachel Anne...."
But I will never have "Posh Hair."
I have two main problems to contend with. First, I have a birthmark at the nape of my neck that would show with a style like that. Not that I'm ashamed of it, but it is a consideration.
Second, my husband thinks that the Posh style makes women's heads look like large, misshapen melons. And there's my biggest obstacle right there. I hadn't really noticed the similarity until he pointed it out, followed with the words, "Man, that's ugly."
My heart sank. Birthmark or no birthmark, wouldn't it be great to walk into a room with hair that makes everyone turn and look? To know that people just want a glimpse of the back of your head to see how it's cut? My dreams went up in smoke.
So I've compromised. It's gotten a little shorter (after all, I AM over 40) and it kind of has the basic shape of Posh's hair, except without all that glamour. I guess I really don't want the paparazzi following me to WalMart.
But I carry my hairdresser's card with me JUST IN CASE someone stops me on the street and asks, "WHO does your hair?"
Then I will smile demurely and say, "want to see the back?"
This is a perfectly meaningless post, but I am trying something new.
My daughter, Elle, is helping me set up a new facebook account so that we can stay in touch even more easily! Typepad has a new feature that lets you post to Facebook from your blog, so I am going to test this out.
I'll let you know if it works!
With football season well underway, you might feel like you aren't communicating with your man like you used to. Especially on weekends.
I suggest using Sports Talk to bridge the gulf, and to get your man to truly understand your needs.
"I'm going to call an audible," for "There's going to be a last-minute change of plans."
"I don't like your Hurry-Up Offense," for "I don't think you should make a rush decision."
"Now you're in the "I" Formation," for "You are being incredibly selfish here."
"There's going to be a flag on the play," for "You're going to have to back up and start over."
"That's a 10 yard penalty," for "You are in trouble."
"Delay of game," for "Dinner isn't ready yet."
"All my jerseys are "Throw-Back" jerseys," for "All my clothes are out of date and I need new ones."
"We've got too many men on the field," for "I can't function with all these kids running around."
"1st and goal to go," for "There's a real good chance you're about to score with me."
"You're gonna have to punt," for "You just lost your chance to score with me."
"False start, Offense," for "I didn't give you any signal to make your move."
"False start, Defense" for "You don't even know what I'm going to say and you're already arguing."
"You aren't running the right route," for "You're just not there when I need you."
"Pass Interferance," for "I would have gotten everything done, but something came up."
"Don't draw me off-sides," for "Don't do something that you know is going to make me mad."
"You're at 1st and 10," for "You're out of the doghouse and you've got a new chance."
"Throw a Hail Mary," for "You have one final chance to get yourself out of this, and you better pray."
And even though baseball season is over, you can toss in a few of those terms as well. Men get it when you say:
"You're on deck," for "I'll change THIS diaper, but you're getting the next one."
"Grand slam," for "You scored big points with me."
"I need a Seventh Inning Stretch" for "I'm tired and I need a nap."
Using language your man understands shows that you care about reaching his big ol' heart. Because deep inside that tough exterior is just a guy who knows all about winning and losing. He's out there on the playing field everyday, and he needs to know he's got a cheerleader on the sidelines who knows the game.
And ALL guys understand the words, "How about a Half-Time Show?"
No translation needed.