Jenny On the Spot: Caffeinated mom, lover of dancing, glitter and glitter.

JD, may I use that phrase? I know you own the whole, “I *insert action here* so you don’t have to” concept. And it’s true! She does it ALL so we don’t have to. She’s a giver like that. She even ate sardines! I would NEVER do that for you… but mostly because my tummy is so full of Oreos and coffee all the time.

Aaaanywho. I digress.

I want to re-post my story about a cleanse I did a little over a year ago, in case you missed it. We are embarking on a season of resolutions. A time when we feel motivated to eat our veggies or purge our inboxes… or colons. Depends on the individual.

Here’s a picture. Totally unrelated. I’m getting too wordy. *eyes cross* Lucy got “polka bot” jammies for Christamas this year… I got my own last year. She made us wear them together the night she got hers. We took pics. I love how she puts on her best face for pictures:

Continue reading ‘In Which I Save Your 2010: I Did A Cleanse So You Don’t Have To’

I saw these signs awhile back. I did a double-double take and made my husband double back so we could get a picture. It is as confusing IN CONTEXT as it is out of context. Kinda like my mind lately – in or out of context… Huh? Whu?

Precisely.

Let me change directions…

• Hop on over to my reveiw blog to enter to win $500 in beauty products from L’Bel, follow this link to check it out!
• Or go there to enter for a chance to win a table-top sports game from ZeloSport… one for yourself and one for you charity of choice!
• Did you know somebody very special just made it into her first REAL PRINT magazine? I’ll give you one guess who… *whistles*… Check out the newest edition of Type-A Mom’s Winter 2009/2010 Edition… It’s full of great articles from great women of the web (sounds so Matrix-y)… and me. My own article is titled: No Fail Resolutions: Make 2010 Sparkle Like A Brand New Toilet

It’s true! Look at the picture below! That girl stabbing that devil-skein of yarn? ME! Not only is my writing in a real-life magazine, but also my ANGRY EYES!!! By the way, my hubs just asked, “So if you have SEVERAL skein of yarn… is that called FORESKEIN???” Aaaanywho. We digress:

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We all have them. Certain words that creep us out or make us snort and giggle like we did back in driver’s ed and science class… back when simple words like “period” were dirty and worthy of a good “snicker”.

Yet, I had no idea the bevy of words I that would forever be ruined… when I grew up. Who knew my adult mind would evolve to such lowly immaturities. Or perhaps my understanding has evolved so much I am wise beyond my years.

Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m saying. Don’t be a hater. You and me? We are more alike than you… No. That’s not true. I suppose I feel a little guilty.

You see, if my word list keeps growing at the rate is has been… I will be limited to speaking only articles and prepositions… incidentally, that brings me to my first word:

10. PREPOSITION

9. FAMISHED

8. FOLD

7. SHAMMY

6. MOIST

5. COMMANDER

4. COIFFEUR

3. SEPTIC SYSTEM

2. CREVICE

2. SALVE

2. POINSETTIA

1. BUSINESS, JUNK, TOOL andthelike.

I. Uh. Ermmmm…

The End.

*For more “mature” reading material you can hop on over to:

• My guest post at Indie Biz Chicks thankful stuffs…
• Or to Mom on the Spot where I curse the evil nature of chestnuts. Some people bring light to world issues. I fight with inanimate objects – and LOSE!
• Of course, there is always the video of this snickering inaction, thanks to good friends like my Lisa:

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So. I have this friend. Darcy. A personal trainer. A personal trainer who happens to be my friend who has been cruel kind enough to show me how to properly and effectively work mah boday. She is into “functional training”, and I’m all, “Heh… she said “function”…

Lemme tell ya, the first time she functionally beat the living crap out of me werked her functional magic… I spent lots of time face to rubber with the butt of a Bosu ball. She is a HUGE fan of the bosu ball, thusandtherefore, I have now sucked face with a great number of Bosu balls. Lucky Bosus. I’m kidding.

*not me* but… been there done that.

Wanna cookie?

I digress….
Continue reading ‘My Butt Hurts, You Don’t Even Know.’

What? You didn’t turn the page off your interwebz?

I actually have a post of substance I should mold and nurture… instead I share with you a personal struggle…

Buying tampons in bulk.

I don’t care how many years one has been purchasing the wide array of feminine hygiene products, it is never comfortable to plop one’s “goodies”… “pons”… on the counter. I am not afraid to purchase the needed items, but I cannot think of a time I have bought a pack of this-or-that where I haven’t looked for a checker-chick. I don’t want the fellas knowin’ mah bidness.

Secondlyandwhosoever… in this economy, I have become keeeeeenly aware of how expensive these necessities are.

NECESSITIES.

I mean, if we lived in the Biblical days, we’d just be cast outside the city gates to live in a tent for a week.

We don’t get that luxury today. No tent outside the city for the modern woman. Nope.

I digress… What I’m sayin’ is — this economy + coupon for tampons at grocery warehouse + 2 box limit = “the heck is wrong with HER insides?!”

And the whole while I’m nervously chatting about the economy and how awesome coupons are and the value of buying two 84 count boxes of tampons in bulk… so “people” only have to buy “CERTAIN THINGS” every 90 – 120 days or so… or less *ahem*

Golly. It reminds me of the time after my fist child was born.

Are you STILL here?

I needed “supplies”. Lots of supplies. I was well-read on parenting and the birth process, but I had no idea… NO. IDEA… about the wrath of the  ”just gave birth undercarriage”.

Friggin’ Armageddon.

Still here?

Aaaanywho. I loaded up a cart of things that I felt would best behoove a woman in my bloody sad state.

I unloaded enough “supplies” onto the check-out counter. I perceived there was enough on that counter to clean up the oil spill of the Exxon Valdez back in ‘89.

I also had a 24 pack of coke. And candy bars.

Aaaand… a checker-dude.

I just looked down. I don’t think he  saw my tears. I never screamed as afterbirth contractions riddled my new-mommy body. I remember crawling into my car, tearing open a candy bar and weeping… from pain, embarrassment and pure exhaustion. Aaaaand that is another story.

It was truly awful. Today was not so awful, but I still had to put two 84 count boxes of tampons on the check-out stand.

I compare buying tampons in bulk to wearing thong underwear. It’s never comfortable, but it’s not so bad after awhile. I… uh… aye… that’s… thah…har… at least that’s what I’ve heard.

*blinking*

This post was just all kinds of uncomfortable, now wasn’t it?

I am here to serve. *bows and hits head on desk on the way back up*

This all kind-of reminds me of the time my hubs and I had to buy… well… anywho… I did write about that too…

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This is mostly confessional, but part digressional. Cuz that’s how I roll, yo. *flashes gang sign*

Y’all Remember in the 80’s… when it was cool to peg your pants and tuck them into your socks… mulitcolored layers of socks (or legwarmers)? *flinches* Aaanywho. I did something similar not too terribly long ago. However, I did it to SAVE MY LIFE…

One day, I decided to vacuum my mini-van. I was hunting for petrified french fries and hoping the spilled milk was dry enough it would flake off. I’m kidding {not kidding}. No I’m kidding. *shakes head*

I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed my way to an acceptable level of clean. Gone are the days of “truly” clean.

I headed back home. The children and I piled out of the car when, when, when…. I saw it. It.

IT.

A. Continue reading ‘The Confessional – I almost made call backs for the local drill team.’

Here I am WAS  bidding for a job… a job with some level of visibility for a local financial institution…(when I originally posted this) yet I can’t resist. I should let them think I have it all together… just let them believe I run my home like a well-oiled machine.

Why can’t I let feeding maggots lie?

I wasn’t going to share this.

I wasn’t going to share.

But the story that I want to hide

Won’t let me hide it there.

Huh? “Won’t let me hide it THERE.”

I. Don’t. Know.

It rhymed. I was going for Dr. Seuss-y, and ended up Edvard Munch-y… and he was neither a writer nor a poet, but a painter… So.

*scratching head*

Anynohows. I am a glutton for punishment blogger, not a poet.

OBVIOUSLY.

So. Maggots.

Continue reading ‘The Confessional – Maggots’

I saw this at a 4-way-stop yesterday evening. HAD to take a pic. HAD to share it.

In other news, I’m drowning in life… and am struggling with finding time this week(s). To be totally honest, I am having a hard time finding my smile too. “Too busy for smiles?” you probe (heh, probe). Maybe… I think the “too busy” makes it too easy to miss the reasons to smile.

I want to thank all who commented on my last post… I am slowly replying to each one. The encouragement, the thought behind what each person said… I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It seems I am in the down-swoop. I am feeling reflective, funny is harder to see and create… I want to just sit in a corner with my thumb in my mouth, my knees to my chest and cry. Or maybe just pound back fistfuls of chocolate chips. Or a pallet of baked goods. Beer. Tequila? All of the above, but not at the same time. Oh, a nice bowl of baked potato soup with extra bacon might help…

I don’t know why I am feeling “Debbie Downer-ish”, but then… I do know why. It’s all ambiguous and specific. And no “why” is really big enough to provoke such a dramatic response. However… I think I am going to start my period.

Every month for the rest of my life.

Until menopause, but, like THAT is something to trade bleeding for?

TMI. So sorry. See? I am not in a good spot.

*SCREEEEECH*

I recommend going to CHEERUPNATION, because it is a guaranteed place to go for a cheer-up. They are up for an award! Oh, JD at I Do Things is also up for the award, but a different category…an award I am willing to share. Also, If I do not win, I hope it’s becuase of I Do Things… she does things, so we don’t have to :)

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This weekend sucked. I was going to “fluff” up the “sucked” part and be all, “This weekend was Stinky Stinkerson.” But if I wrote that, the the “totally honest” part of my title would not have been “totally honest”.

It was not a weekend of illness. Nor a weekend of tragedy. Nor a weekend of poverty, nor oppression, nor starvation, nor anything worthy of garnering an uprising of pity, concern or having a group of friends rally and bring my family meals for 2 weeks (though I would never turn that away, rain OR shine)…

It just sucked. The “Mom!!!” part of this weekend, sucked.
Continue reading ‘Can I Be Totally Honest?’

My feet are a WRECK. Over the past 3 years I have stacked running and triathlon events in such a way that my feet have not have the opportunity to return to the intended state they were given to me. You know, 10 intact, cute-ish toes… all with nails. Not model feet, but I considered the nail shape and thickness all to be in normal-to-acceptable range. And give those babies a pedi by a pro… only better.

But now it is all about smoke and mirrors my friends.

I now have 6 normal toe nails. 1 ultra thick one, if I am not careful, I am afraid it might get taller than me. I am not posting a picture. Even I have boundaries. The other thick nail… a professioanl was able to wrangle her to a place of submission. Poor guy. Yes, I had a pedi by a man. It was uncomfortable, but it had to be done. I had a public to protect. I swear, left unchecked… my toes could hurt an innocent by-stander, or at least make them vomit in their mouth a little. I want my public to be a happy public, so… I will endure a pedi by a man… if that is what it takes. *folds arms*

I also have 2 toes (the center ones) with NO NAIL. Did you know you can paint the spot where a nail should be? No one can tell. Smoke and mirrors my friends, smoke and mirrors…

The 2 nails that have complete gone AWOL are a direct result of my marathon in early May. They were fine the morning before, and made big, throbbing protests the days following. One fell off weeks ago. The other fell off yesterday.

Being the sub-standard mom that I am… Our Tooth Fairy (this will make sense, I promise) has a reputation for not showing up in a timely manner. This was a letter my daughter left for our TF one time:

Aaaanywho. So. I lost my toenail yesterday. My daughter Olivia (who had lost a tooth the day before… made a note for our fair Tooth Fairy AND left her tooth just outside her bedroom door instead of under her pillow… she is a go-getter, I tell ya. Thank heaven the TF woke up at 3:30 in the a.m. and remembered to scrounge the kids’ therapy fund and paid the kid for her tooth… which, by the way… she RIPPED out cuz that girl is made out of pure Awesome and Tough Schtuff!)

Where was I?

Oh. My toenail. My daughter was there when I finally showed Ms. Nail who was boss. Olivia said, “Oh! Mom!!! You should put that under your pillow!”

“But Olivia, do you think the Nail Fairy will come?”

Olivia was certain, “Oh yeah. You better not put it under your pillow… put it at your door.”

My poor girl. *plops 2 quarters back in the Therapy Fund*