My Grandpa Used to Pronounce Mondays as "Mundys"

Here is my current fav on the radio (at least 'til they play it too many times, like they're bound to do)...

Music Video Codes By Music Jesus.com

Sandal Pledge

My Mom just sent this to me.


And I'll comply,


with the exception of the pedicures,


I simply can not slip that into the budget...


But I'll work on keeping them just as good


as the little Asian ladies who work at our local salon.





Be sure to check out the pic at the end! You won't be sorry.





All right Ladies and Gentlemen , it's that time of year once again!!!


SPRING has arrived...and I think we need to be reminded of a few things.


So to my sisters , brothers, girlfriends, boyfriends, etc.:

PLEASE, repeat after me below ...

The Open Toed Shoe Pledge

As a member of the Cute Girl Sisterhood, I pledge to follow the Rules whenwearing sandals and other open-toe shoes:

I promise to always wear sandals that fit.

My toes will not hang over and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs.

And the sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps.

I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact andchip-free.

I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe.

I will sand down any mounds of skin before they turn hard and yellow.

I will shave the hairs off my big toe.

I won't wear pantyhose even if my misinformed girlfriend, coworker, mother, sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if I tuck it there.

If a strap breaks, I won't duct-tape, pin, glue or tuck it back into place hoping it will stay put.

I will get my shoe fixed or toss it.

I will not live in corn denial; rather I will lean on my good friend Dr. Scholl's if my feet need him.

I will resist the urge to buy jelly shoes at Payless for the low, low priceof $4.99 even if my feet are small enough to fit into the kids' sizes.

This is out of concern for my safety, and the safety of others. No one can walkproperly when standing in a pool of sweat and I would hate to take someonedown with me as I fall and break my ankle.

I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like Vienna sausages. I love that part, it reminds me of pregnancy.

I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/coworker when she asks me if her feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell her thather toes are as long as my fingers and no sandal makes creepy feet lookgood.

I will promise if I wear flip flops that I will ensure that they actually flip and flop, making the correct noise while walking and I will swear NOT to slide or drag my feet while wearing them.

I will promise to go to my local nail salon at least once per season and have a real pedicure (they are about $20- $30 and worth EVERY penny).

I will promise to throw away any white/off-white sandals that show signs of wear... nothing is tackier than dirty white sandals.

Can you follow that pledge?

It's for everyone's best interest.

Really.

Dads Rule, Moms Drool

Flynn was watching her daddy outside. He's been slaving away, working at rebuilding a playset that was given to us by Flynn's girl cousins.
I've taught her to admire him. Always admonishing all that he does. For the days that he's been working at this, I've commented,
"Daddy is working hard for you guys to have a fun playset. He's such a good daddy that he's doing that for you."
And for a little added guilt...
"Not all Daddies do things like that. Your Dad is special."
So she chimed in,
"He's strong."
"Yep, he is strong."
"Why is he strong?"
"Because that's how God made Him. God made Daddies strong."
"He is so strong. He is stronger than you. He's stronger than you Mom."
And when I wouldn't reply...
"MOM, he's stronger than you."
"Yep Flynn, he's stronger than me."

Then, the other day, the kids were playing with marbleworks, my most recent & awesome garage sale purchase. I admit, no clue, no clue how to assemble the thing. I tried, but it all looked very confusing.
"Flynn you'll have to wait 'til Daddy gets home to figure this out."
"Dad's smart."
"Yes, Daddy's very smart."
"Mom, Daddy's smart...but you're not."

Sweet Sixteen

A little belated birthday wish to my favorite FIRST niece.

Hannah is very special. First of all, she is my prized babysitter. Anyone who can care for my kids all while playing with them, is a star in my book.

Second of all, she is a reference while trying to get Flynn to eat, "Don't you want to grow up to be tall like Hannah?"

Third of all, she is so darned cute. Bias aside, she is just plain beautiful....inside & out. She has a strong faith & will reach many one day when she is a missionary.

Happy Birthday Hannah!

DISCLAIMER to everyone who has had a b'day & hasn't gotten a b'day shout-out from my blog... I just can't. So please accept my general rule of bloggie thumb, SWEET SIXTEEN BLOG SHOUTS ONLY. I'm only human. ;)

Musical Parade

This morning on the kids' favorite show, Curious George, the "Man With the Yellow Hat" was a part of a band... like high school (not garage band).... there was a tuba, some maracas, & I believe a xylaphone... you know, what every good band is made up of.

George eventually got to join this band. Which delighted my kids. Lord, George could do no wrong.

Anyway, the tv is off & now the kids are parading through the house. Flynn has a shakey drum (which was a souvenier Indian thingy which I slide the stick off becuz I'm afraid someone could lose an eye) suspended from a pair of tongs. Gabe's contribution to the musical parade is a backpack on wheels (don't ask).

Flynn leads the parade with, "A'one, A'two, A'three...."

Have I mentioned how much I love being here with them??...

On a different note, a baby girl named Sophia needs your prayer. She was born early with a ton of complications & right now it's touch & go. Her praying parents also covet your prayer. This family attends church w/ my BF Heather.

Allergy Article

Step on over to my milk allergy blog & check out an article I recently read.
It not only drives home some of my fears, but makes me nearly wet my pants when I think about Flynn attending public school.
All the more need for us to pray that she outgrows this.

I Stand Corrected

Actually, the name of the world's shortest poem is not ANTS.
It is FLEAS....

FLEAS

Adam Had'em

There you go...

Thank you Mom for allowing me to see the err of my ways...

as you've done so many times. ;)

I think what I had in my mind was ADAM... then ADAM ANT (remember him, totally 80s)...

And there ya go. The next thing I'm doing is plagiarising & not even doing it well.

Crabbing, crabbing...

Ugh...
Do you ever take time out of your busy schedule to do something for someone else... a stranger, whom you owe NOTHING to....
then, you don't even get a simple thank you?

The phone rang. I was pulling Flynn's shirt over her head... I saw it was Progressive. I KNOW we don't use them, so I figured it was the wrong number.
"Tom" (names NOT changed as to NOT protect the guilty) left a very detailed message for ADAM Perry. Apparently ADAM was in an accident with his 2003 Escort. And Tom was needing to speak w/ ADAM.
Well, ADAM doesn't live here.
I've never heard of ADAM.

TOM needed ADAM to return his call promptly. Which was NOT going to happen, as ADAM doesn't live here & will not be receiving the message left.

Now I'm busy... too busy in fact to be sitting here leaving this blog entry, esp when it's a sunny 58 outside & my kids to need burn off energy running & dropping handfuls of sand in their hair.
BUT, I'm one of those conscientious people, responsible to a fault.... and if I didn't call TOM back, it would be eating away at me that ADAM wouldn't be returning TOM's call & what about the other driver??

So, I call Progressive, at the number left, and who should I reach but TOM.

I explain to TOM that he left a message here & it was for ADAM & ADAM doesn't live here.
"Adam Perry?"
"Right, this IS the Perry residence, but there is no ADAM here."
"Hmm, that's very strange."
"Yes, and I've never met nor heard of an Adam."
"That's REALLY odd."
Me, starting to feel a little under interrogation, started to feel a little guilty (for what, I'm not sure).

"Well, when I pulled his name up in the system, your number & address came up...2024 *****?"
"Yes, that's our address... perhaps someone looked up Perry & attached our info to Adam Perry's name?"
"Do you have Progressive insurance?"
Me, thinking, 'if you even try to sell me insurance, I'm going to come up there & strangle you with your cheap tie.'
"No, I don't have Progressive insurance."
"Well, okay."
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLong silence.
Me, wondering, 'is he NOT going to thank me????'
"Well, I thought I should call you since the message sounded important."
"Thanks."
"MmHm."
click.

I guess I should've just saved some time & let TOM spend the rest of the week wondering why ADAM didn't return his call.

I'll end this blog with the world's shortest poem, taught to me by my uncle, entitled ANTS:

ANTS

Adam Had'em

DETOX

I'm kinda in rehab...

After a weekend of trying things on & realizing how large I've become, I've hit bottom.

Starting a new diet, the Fat Smashers diet. I'm on day 3 of detox.... only eating certain fruits, veggies, oats, brown rice, yogurt, & egg whites.

As of this morning, I'd lost 3 lbs. I'd expected more at this point, as I am STARVING.

Here's to a healthier me... and much less of me.

MOM My Ride

Clickety-click above.... to see a parody on PIMP My Ride.
What's funny is that my ride is already MOM'ed, at least the interior is.

Also, down & to the right, take my quiz. See how well you know me.

A Funny Revenge Story

Okay, so the Lord says Vengeance is mine...
but this story is STILL funny:

A Funny Story About Curtain Rods.....

CURTAIN RODS---- PRICELESS

She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.

On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things.

On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candle-light, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of spring-water.

When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

When the husband returned with his new girl friend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell.

They tried everything; cleaning, mopping and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.

Nothing worked.

People stopped coming over to visit.
Repairmen refused to work in the house.
The maid quit.

Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they couldnot find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.

Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.

Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day.
She agreed and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork.

A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home... And to spite the ex-wife, they even took the the curtain rods!!!!!!

I LOVE A HAPPY ENDING, DON'T YOU?

Frozen Eggs

Yep, we nearly froze our eggs off, hunting eggs in 40 degrees.
But we hunted, nonetheless. Not once. Or twice. But three times.
So my kids are pros.

And there will be pictures to come. As soon as I surface myself from the pool of plastic eggs that my surroundings have become.
And those pictures will be cute. You can count on that.

But meanwhile, you can gush w/ me at what Flynn & her Daddy conversed about the other day...
"Flynn, why do we have Easter?"
"Because of Jesus. The bad people put nails in his hands and his head."
"That's right. Jesus died for us."
"But why?"
"Because He loves us."
"But why?"
"Because He wanted us to be in heaven forever."
"But why?"
"Because He's God's son & God wanted to give us a gift."
"But why?"
"Just because."

So, yesterday, Jeff wanted to turn the tables & started asking Flynn questions. She'd answer him & his response would be, "But why?"
She finally said to him, "that's too many questions."

Good Friday

1,600 plastic Easter eggs. Approximately. And they're all in the back of our mini-van.

The sweat of my brow & the extent of my organizational skills, have all been spent on this egg hunt.

So that's become the bulk of my thoughts. Will there be enough? Will people know where to go? How can I be sure they go to the correct table to redeem their prizes?

What am I going to wear? What will Flynn wear? What will I take for dinner afterward?

Now isn't that just silly?

Not silly that I've planned a community-wide egg hunt.

But that it's consumed my mind.

Yesterday, I slipped Jeff's iPod in my ears & pushed play.

He had uploaded a dramatization of the resurrection... with voices such as Cuba Gooding Jr. & James Earl Jones.

It was good. I was getting inspired. The deep bass of the music escalated as Christ carried the cross & the intensity thrived as the moment grew nearer. 'Wow!' I thought.

But then it hit me...

When Jesus was carrying that cross through the town. Through the streets. Blood dripping from His flesh-torn back...

He heard no music to inspire Him.

When they nailed him hands & his feet & speared his side, there was no bass beat.

There was crying...and mourning... and a Mother who watched her son being beat... and made fun of... and disrespected... and murdered.

There was no dramatization, nothing that made Jesus feel uplifted or inspired.

Except...

Except for you.

Can you believe that? Can you wrap your mind around that? Someone thought enough of YOU to die. In my lowest of times, especially in my best of times, that was way more than I deserved.

When I pray in the morning, I start out with,

Dear God,

Thank You for giving me a breath to breathe today.

You didn't even have to wake me up this morning but You did.

And then on top of all of that, You've blessed me like You have.

It's true. He worked so hard just creating the universe, and us, and all the animals.

Then, on top of all of that, He gave His son. Something I have only fully understood the last two Easters, since I have a son of my own.

Just for us.

I could go on & on after that. But I won't.

But those are my thoughts today.... after Flynn asked me (after a short summary I gave her on why this is Good Friday),

"Why did He die?"

Really, all she needs to know is that He loved her that much.

And because of that love, JUST that love, she & all the rest of us, have the option of eternity in heaven.

Tiny Dancer

Looky-looky who started DANCE CLASS last week...

Here with the "tappers" (as she calls them)...
Look at these moves!

And that was before the class!