Monday, November 18, 2013

MOTB or Get LifeAlert you old Bat!

I have always tried to keep personal things about my children out of this blog.  It’s my choice to share my crazy life, not theirs.  I try to allow them as much privacy as I can and keep them anonymous –or as anonymous as they can be with me as their mom.  So with that in mind, let me give you a basic rundown of my girls.

Daughter #1 is 22, very laid back and easy going.  Exactly opposite of me.

Daughter #2 is 20, very outgoing, extroverted with just a pinch of OCD loudness.  Exactly like me.  Like we actually have the same thoughts sometimes.  It’s like having a prettier, younger evil twin.

Daughter #3 is 12, going on like 17, is also laid back and is really just a sweet little girl.  Exactly polar opposite of me.  Like dogs and grass different.

So there you have it.  I have the most awesome kids ever.  (take that Brad and Angelina).

But here’s the thing.  Raising daughters is not a walk in the park.  It’s more like a walk on a creaky, old, narrow, swinging rope bridge with fraying rope and lots of cobwebs of emotion, that can go either way at any given moment, and you are constantly waving your arms like a flight attendant and standing on tippy toes trying to maintain some type balance.  And just when you think you have this whole parent thing balanced out, you are thrown a Molotov cocktail. All of a sudden there are giant anacondas, alligators, and sharknadoes trying knock you off that teeny tiny bridge into the ice cold water of death.  Or a nervous breakdown… basically the same thing.

The most recent large, bitey-alligator I’ve been Swamp Men wrestling is Daughter #1 has announced she is getting married.  And in all truth this is great news.  The Hubs and I are very proud and happy for both of them.   But here’s the big bite-off-your-leg- with-inverted- alligator-teeth-all-while-trying-to- drown-you-by-this-confusing-spin-move, worthy of a WWE superstar. (I gotta quit watching Animal Planet and apparently wrestling).  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  This is going to make me a “mother of the bride”. Me.  I’ve been to a White Snake concert! I’m what’s known as a “cool mom”.  I just got done having to drive a MINI VAN!  I had an Alley McBeal moment where my dead, lifeless body sat in a lazyboy chair with the remote in my had and my 20 cats starting to eat my toes.

Now, as you can imagine.  We have known this would happen eventually.  One does not have three beautiful daughters and get out of the marriage Gladiator Arena (I watched A LOT of TV this weekend).  It did not come as a shock when Boy #1 asked Daughter #1, as they had been dating a long time.  So the event was not really new.  But me.  Old enough to be a “mother of the bride”.  That… that is preposterous, insane, and terrible vicious lie.  The cat lady thoughts ran through my mind as I sat in the garage, eating ice cream from the carton (mint chocolate chip for those curious types).  How can I be the “mother of the bride”?  So.  I pondered. I thought. I grieved for my long lost youth.  I ate some more ice cream in the hot garage.  Then, I got up and went to bed.  After all, “mother of the bride” or MOTB needs her rest (it was almost 9:00 pm), lest she gets rowdy and breaks a hip.  “MOTB down, I repeat MOTB is down!  Call for backup ASAP. Get that old lady a LifeAlert jiminy crickets Myrtle!”.

However, upon waking the next day, it occurred to me that I… we would get to take over help plan a wedding, so the MOTB horror was momentarily forgotten. We talked colors, locations, why the dog could not walk the rings downthe aisle, and how doves can poo a lot thus not a good option as a finale.  Things were looking up.  Until we started looking at wedding dresses.  Then Bridesmaid dresses.  Then Mother dresses. 

Who? Who designs these things? Martha Washington? Seriously? And who decided peach or tan were good colors for anything, let alone a dress?  NO ONE looks good in peach or tan.  And what is “organza”?  And why would I wear something that sounds vaguely naughty though I’m not sure why.

I researched further. It seems that MOTB dresses come in two styles. 

Option #1 - Conservative Queen Elizabeth peach/tan variation probably in organza or a smart polyester blend, three- piece business suit type dress to be worn with “sensible” shoes and a large floppy hat.  I felt as though I would need to stomp down divots at the Kentucky derby during the reception.


Option #2 - I am reliving my teenage years via my poor daughter, because I’m in the middle of my midlife crisis thank you very much. Do not call me mommy dearest, why is it so flippin hot in here and I’ll be darned if that bride will get all the attention, because I look so hot in this low-cut, inappropriately see thru lacy thing to be worn with six inch hooker heels because by golly I may be old, but I’m stylish (If I were Sher doing a music video aboard a navel ship) dress.  

And I can’t do either because, let’s face it, I look frumpy in peachy, business suit dresses, I look horrible in a hat and I certainly can’t pull off that outfit Sher has on let alone figure out my way into or out of it, and it would be a REAL pain when I had to potty like five times.  And there’s no way I could wear those thigh high boots.  Plus I was told I couldn’t wear black to the wedding (or butt-less leather thong suits).  Or white.  Or dance down the aisle as I was walking in.

So at least now I have a mission.  To find the happy middle ground.  I can now focus my attention on this task at hand, rather than making out my last will and testament and scoping out grave plots.  And I have another year to get used to the MOTB title.  Yea. That’s likely to happen. 

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Murder on the Orient Express? Kill Bill? These are indeed trying times in the kingdom? eh... you pick one.

I have a story for you – and it is long…. But hopefully worth your time. 

This is a cautionary tale.  In the spirit of the season, we will call it a Horror Story.  One made of nightmares and bad English.  Yes.  Internet purchasing. 

Once upon a time, there was this awesome, beautiful, thin, cool, smart, young-looking princess (shut up, this is MY story).  We’ll call her Missy (cuz it’s me), and in an effort to get her Christmas shopping started early decided to place a few orders on-line at the beginning of October.  Because as it turns out, Missy is organized, prompt, and ready for the season.  Ok, Missy is just plain lazy.

So several orders placed, several gifts purchased, Missy is feeling very proud of herself for getting a good start on the Holiday Season.  Items start being delivered and Missy is feeling very ahead of the game.  Almost smug.  She may have even boasted to friends…. Perhaps with an air of arrogance.  Ok.  I taunted the crap out of them.  All was good in Missy Princessland.  At least until one item had not been delivered three weeks later.  The Princess was concerned, but not overly worried.

One day last week, being the responsible, organized person she is (shut up, it’s still my story), Missy decides to clean her email box.  And located in the SPAM folder is an email from the store where the missing item was purchased.  Clicking on that email, she found a photo of the item, price, specific details that were unique to the purchase and her address.  She also notices a link that says “to complete your order, click here”.  Thinking she had erroneously neglected to complete the process, she quickly follows the link and reorders the item.  Remember this item hadn’t arrived yet, so it made perfect sense that the original order was incomplete.

At home that very same evening, a package had been delivered.  Missing item, no longer missing.  The email, a fraud.  The item, adorable.  The Princess, ticked.  So immediately Missy sends an email to “bill” of the fraudulent spam email bills asking to cancel the second order – this was sent the SAME day. 

I won’t give you all the gory details, but we will cap this with: it was a pain in the rump, and “bill” was completely ridiculous and “fraud” isn’t a term that’s recognized in China.  So I contacted my bank and filed out fraud paperwork.  After “bill” reminded me that he had my card number and address, I also cancelled my card.  Lesson for all you kiddies…. Don’t put thinly disguised threats in writing.  That’s called evidence.

But much like Lord of the Rings trilogy, where you think the movie is over a dozen times, but it really has two more hours, this was just the beginning.

Yesterday, I attempted to use another card from the same bank (different account) only to find it declined.  Upon researching the issue, I find that an order for software had been placed with my card, a fairly large amount, leaving a zero balance (interesting, huh?  The odd amount was for exactly what was in my account). 

Now.  Hear me say this:  Not every company from oversees is bad – not every Chinese company is bad.  This post is NOT intended to be a stereotype or a country-bashing session.  I’m simply relaying my saga, and it happens to be from China.  This isn’t meant to discourage you from ordering from China, rather to advise you to use caution when ordering online period.  I should also note that I have no proof that the two incidents are related, other than the fact that I don’t believe in coincidence.

So.  The moral of this story is this:

·         Don’t trust “bill” – also, “bill” doesn’t understand sarcasm so it’s a complete waste of time….

·         If you purchase on line, be sure to monitor your accounts.

·         Your bank will not loan you money to hire an overseas hit man. 

·         Websites change their “skins” so you often do NOT know who or where you are buying from.

·         After I cut up the two cards, I immediately had a most uncontrollable urge to buy something.  I think I may need professional help.

·         I am renting the movies Kill Bill 1 and 2 this weekend.  Just for the irony of it. Again, maybe some help is necessary.

·         And lastly, my bank has been absolutely wonderful (AGCU).  I received advice and assistance immediately and they were very knowledgeable about what to do.  So hats off to Tiffany and Juanita.  You are da bomb! Thank you!

I hope someone reads this and learns from my errors.  And “bill”…  watch your back my friend.  

Happy shopping!

Thursday, July 18, 2013

The little engine that said "what, no bathrooms?"

After a particularly “interesting” text conversation with Daughter number two I have come up with three conclusions:  One, my parenting skills are really under par.  Two, my child is spoiled.  And three, someone should really check on those hobos.
Here’s the discussion:

Me:  You know, there are days that I wish I could just run away and be a hobo. But have nice clothes, makeup and jewelry.
D2: Nice

Me: I take it you are not up for the hobo adventure?
D2: No. I like sleeping on a bed rather than concrete.

Me: Yes, definitely a downside.  Plus there’s all the hobo on hobo crime like rape, murder, and stealing.
D2: Ew… and no showers.  So gross.

Me: So…. you are saying that the shower accomodations are the deal breaker for you?
D2: Yep

Me: Did you see my text about the murdery hobos?
D2: yea, but no showers or bathrooms.

Me: Well, I have to say that I’m totally against all the rape and murder.  Hobo crime in general really.  That’s a deal breaker for me.
D2: This is getting weird. (as if it started off as a normal, typical conversation)

Me: yep, sure is.
So there you have it.  My child is spoiled, fearless, and she thinks I’m weird – BUT….. I won’t ever have to worry about her running off to be a hobo.... so there's that.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Adventures with Batman

I’m sure I’ve blogged about our little dog Charlie. AKA Batman.  He is a Havanese and we got him from the Humane Society about 9 years ago.  The vet wasn’t sure how old he was, but guessed that he was about 2 so, at this time he is roughly 11 years old. 
In his younger days, he would burrow under the fence to go on heroic adventures.  I say that because I like the idea of him being a hero and not some random pooper and butt-sniffer of cats.  Obviously we didn’t want him hit by a car or dognapped by the Joker, so we started walking out with him.  Kinda like the President’s Secret Service, but we get to watch POTUS go poo and sniff at all things gross (cat hiney).  Too bad we didn’t get those ear buds and could relay messages back and forth.  ***sigh*** anyway...
Lately his age is catching up to him, and instead of Batman, he’s really more the Walter Mathau of Grumpy Old Men.  He really just wants to eat, sleep and go poo.  Other than the occasional cat-butt sniffing and begging for food… he is basically lying in the floor under everyone’s feet.
So the other day, early in the morning, he tells me he needs to go potty.  And by “tells me” it’s more he wiggles in front of the door when you say “wanna go outside?”.  And it was pouring.  Because of his hatred of all things wet, I knew he had to go pretty bad.  So I grabbed my robe and out we went.
He runs right out to the grass then darts around the house.  I am standing under the eve of the porch trying not to get wet.  I stand there for what seems like a lifetime. 
Finally I decide that he’s gone AWOL again, so I do that thing where you kinda walk/run/jog on your toes so that your entire foot doesn’t get soaked.  Somehow, I slipped and fell.  And not in a graceful Jennifer Lawrence at the Oscars way.  More like legs and arms flailing, a very girlie squeal, and robe falling completely open way.  Ok, I had on shorts and a t-shirt on underneath, but that is a moot point – I was down.  Now I REALLY wished we had those secret service ear bud things.  “hot momma down, repeat, hot momma is down…. POTUS is mia…. POTUS is mia”.
As if this wasn’t bad enough, I could NOT get up.  Like my arms and legs were somehow disconnected from my brain.  I felt like the Scarecrow in Oz.  Seriously ya’all, I couldn’t get enough leverage to get up.  Finally I just stopped, tried to catch my breath and take a quick peek around to see if any neighbors were around.  I’m not sure if I was happy or sad or too loopy to find no one outside.
As I’m laying on the wet grass, in the pouring rain, trying to keep my robe together, here comes Batman.  He pauses, sniffs my way, then promptly runs to the porch where it’s dry.
WORST BATMAN EVER!!!!  Even Lassie helped that stupid kid get out of the well all the time. (by the way… where was this kids mom… he was always in some sort of trouble. And isn't one time in the well enough to learn to stay away from it?  And further was the dad Cesar Mallan?  How did he know what that dog was saying?).  Anyway, it was obvious I was on my own.
After a lifetime of struggling, and talking to myself (which may or may not have included naughty words) I managed to get to my feet.  I walk into the house AFTER Batman had darted in first, lest he be left outside even near the rain.  My daughter and her friend were just waking up and watching tv.  They see me and ask what happened.  (They sensed something was amiss because of the mud, grass clippings, the soaking wet hair, the smell of hatred oozing from my every pore and the leaf stuck to my neck).  I finally catch my breath to tell them my harrowing adventure/near death experience and my daughters friend says.  “Maybe you need life alert”. 
So folks, this is what it comes down to.  I was a broken hip away from the nursing home.  I am so gonna hate getting old.
*POTUS = President of the United States. 

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Here we go again....

Hi Everyone.  It's been a while.... but I've been busy - or at least busy looking busy.  The holidays snuck up on me and things just got busy.  I've missed blogging, so I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. I hope you will keep checking the blog... I really do want to get more consistent.

So despite the fact that I don't like (read HATE) reality shows, I have to admit that I've started watching a few lately.  Now, I know.... I know.... they are most likely scripted but wow.... they are addictive. Here's my take on a few.
  • First is The Voice.  I started watching it because a friend from High School was a contestant. (He was amazing by the way).  Originally, I was very much against it because I couldn't believe Shakira would have anything of importance to say.  However, she surprised me.  Not only is she sweet, doesn't dress like a ho, she is a great coach.  She actually gives useful and good advice.  Also, Usher surprised me in that way as well.  I think he may be the best coach.  Plus let's face it.... Adam is HHHOOOTTT!!!!  The show actually seems to want the contestants to succeed.  Not like American Idol, where that is just one big circus train wreck. 

  •  Second, I'm very much into Duck Dynasty.  While I resisted its redneck lure for the first two seasons, I find that I very much enjoy it.  I like that the teens show respect, that they pray before meals, there isn't constant beeping out of language, and I do love watching their antics.  Jace is my favorite bearded duck hunter.... I love that he manipulates the group so much..  Ok... ok, I really just admire that he does it so well.  
There are several others that I watch here and there.  Mostly I don't care for them enough to watch every episode, and I tend to have the t.v. on while I'm working on other projects.

Which brings me to another topic.  I have a new hobby.  Flea Marketing. I know!  I don't want to love it... but I'm super addicted!  I am into re-purposing items.  In the last six months, I've repainted five rooms, re-upholstered my couch, re-purposed eight chairs, three tables, and several other small projects.  Yea..... I've been busy.  And I've started a very small side business and website.  Please go here and take a look.  Like my Facebook page and visit often. 

This has also peaked my interest in shows like Storage Wars and Haunted Collector. I don't want to accidentally pick up a ghost at the flea market.  Unless it was a cool ghost that told me the future... .like a genie.... that would be cool.

Here's a look at the new graphics.