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

About 7 months ago I showcased my custom-blinged swine flu masks in a video:

I wish I had another video to share. Alas, I do not. I know this is disappointing and I promise I will not make a habit of such things *feels self-important*. I do have a couple of pictures of new masks… one is a re-make of the famous and favorite army men mask that my husband made himself under my critical watchful creative eye(s)… and the other, well just another brilliant maniacal creation of my mind. We wore these on Halloween.

Here’s my husband’s interpretation of the army men mask:

Ain’t no fool swine flu gettin’ all up in theh, yo.

This next one was more genius than I gave myself credit for. In my mind, I envisioned the swine flu virus just being scared by all the sharp points on the following mask:

What I didn’t know, until I started walking along the streets, meetin’ mah public where they at… I didn’t anticipate that no one would want to come near me.

No one.

Within the first two minutes of bein’ out in my public, one woman… eyes opened wide in horror… saw me… backed away and yelped, “OH MY GAH! WHAT ISssss THAT?”

I get that a lot.

For the rest of my trick-or-treating evening I was left physically alone. No hugs. No kisses. No hand shakes… not even a high five. No slobbery babies… If you are a recluse – I suggest ordering one of these masks. There is no need to live on a secluded island anymore. A push-pin swine flu mask is all you need to attain the isolation you crave and deserve.

Conclusion: Based on my scientific research, of all the masks I have ever created – I believe this mask to be the most effective at keeping the germies away. Success!

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December 9, 1994.

I remember 2 things from that day, the day before my wedding, 15 years ago…

I remember sitting under a table at The Old Spaghetti Factory… crying. No, weeping. Not from cold feet, but from overwhelming stress. Wedding planning and a college senior who turned in all her papers and took all her finals A WEEK EARLY. Yes, sobbing under a table over there at the Riverside Old Spaghetti Factory.

I also remember our Best Man making hand puppets out of the bread at the rehearsal dinner. The only laughing I did all that day, I’m sure.

Come to think of it, I never did have a bachelorette party… That’s OK, I have BlogHer ‘08 & ‘09… and perhaps ‘10? *prays*.

December 10, 1994… I got married.

I remember the cake-maker-person didn’t add the basket weave design to the top of one of the cakes.

I remember us getting in kind-of trouble for having a money dance. We were married on campus at our Baptist college… where only the Devil himself was more evil than dancing. The big joke on campus was “Why can’t Baptists have sex standing up? Because it might lead to dancing!!!” Yup.

The money we received from that dance was all the money we had for our honeymoon… to the exotic locale of San Francisco :)

My husband’s precious father married us.

I covered my mouth when my groom got the “You may kiss the bride”. I was embarrassed. My sweet daddy had never seen me kiss a boy before. *blushes*

The fire place in the reception room didn’t work.

Instead of a gift table, we had a Christmas tree for guests to put the presents under.

It was arguably the most beautiful the A.J. Staples Room had EVER looked – before or since… Trees decked with white Christmas lights and burgundy bows… garland… a wonderland, as far as I am concerned.

I don’t remember our budget, but it was small compared to many. A couple thousand? Dress, food, fees, cake, flowers… I’m amazed at what we did. We were young… 22 and 23. I was still one semester from graduation. My groom had just graduated the semester before.

SO young. Just. Starting. Out.

“They” said the first year would be hard. “They” didn’t marry my husband. Sure, there were “things”… and there ARE “things”, but… yeah… that was probably our best year. Our poorest year too. Go figure.

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In these 15 years…

I still don’t have a wedding album…

I have many of the same towels.

I have 9 china place settings I’ve used less times than the number of years I’ve been married.

After 15 years, I need new everyday plates.

And new pots and pans.

And a knife set.

I have 3 kids.

And corresponding stretch marks.

I am not the mom I thought I’d be. Nor wife.

I was way better at both roles before I became them.

I have learned to identify “small things” and let go of them.

Were I to have another rehearsal dinner, I would not be found crying under a table.

I would be found drinking at the bar. I didn’t drink then.

But I do now.

In 15 more years???

I cannot imagine, but I have my hopes… like, plastic surgery. Kidding.

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[Before I launch into whatever I am about to launch into... Take a peek at my new venture - Jenny On The Spot Reviews! All week I am taking a The Crystal Light Water Way Challenge... Each day I will write about my journey toward good hydration. So far (today), all my organs have taken all the water. My poor shrunken dehydrated organs... Anywho, you can read about it by clicking here and there is an opportunity to win a $1000 Visa gift card. Just read through the post to find out how! See ya there and happy hydration!]

Why don’t we put great big “air quotes” around that “online break” part. I think “Chris Farley” demonstrates it best:

Aren’t you curious what I did with all my extra time? Well, I spent a lot of time on my pot business. I still didn’t get email squared away. You may have noticed new posts here, but those were scheduled… I got a lot of laundry done last Monday. Monday only. I made banana snickerdoodles and the ice cream part of ice cream smores.
Continue reading ‘What I Did on My Online Break’

There comes a time (ofthemonth) where women need… shall we say… certain “supplies” exclusive to the female gender. *ahem*

And unfortunately (fortheman), despite the woman’s best efforts… SOMETIMES He is called on to help *ahem* restock this very specific “supply”. Probably the most hated item on a man’s “honey-do” list.

I may or may not have teased my husband about my own issue with this “supply and demand” problem just this morning. I mean, he WAS going to run errands, sooooo… However, so everyone will know I am a compassionate woman, I released him… As I said, just kidding Baby”… I could swear I saw the testosterone rush back to his face… the whiskers on his unshaved jaw waved in celebration.

This little “interaction” reminded us of a time when we were first married. It was the evening of the fourth of July.

We went to a local drug store. *Ican’tbelieveIamactuallytellingthisstory* We had to pick up a few things. One item on this list was… errrmmm… Let’s just say we were newlyweds who were actively pursuing a state of kidlessness for a span of several years. Think “barrier method”.

So, we get to the counter to pay for our “goods”. We make the transaction… all three of us (my 23-year old dashing, young husband, the high school-aged male checker *of course*, and I) made valiant efforts to make no eye contact. I was proud of our mature manner throughout the very uncomfortable process.

But.

As we walked away… as. we. walked. away… our teenage checker added, with an innocent pep in his voice —

Enjoy the fireworks!!!

Really? After working so hard to avoid eye contact… it was finally made – thricewise in triplicate!!! Confused. Guilty. Dirty. Ashamed. As quickly as we all made our eye “contacting” we all looked away. Dumbfounded.

That walk back to the car… I think I tripped on my jaw the whole way. Looking back, I wish I had the daring then I have now. If I were ever in that spot again, I’d turn on my heel… put my hand on hip… cock my head to the left (or right) and say… “You bet yer sweet britches we’ll enjoy the fireworks.” And then he’d probably throw up in his mouth a little because I’m an old woman, but… that’d be his problem. Not mine.

When’d I get so sassy?

I believe men really get a raw deal in these days of such progressiveness.

And maybe I shouldn’t use this video in a courtroom to defend my forthcoming argument on why I think kids need they daddies. But, c’mon. That was AWESOME.

I read/see/observe slam after slam after slam on how poorly men behave, dress, don’t pick things up, can’t find things in the fridge, scratch their bellies, fart, breathe wrong, and/or don’t put their dirty clothes in the laundry basket. To name a few.
Continue reading ‘Every Kids Needs Daddy – Happy Father’s Day, Dads!’

I suppose I should tell you this is a card I got at Hallmark. It cracked me up… like my butt. I digress…

Speaking of skinny people… I have battled with weight issues all my life. I think I started a “modified eating plan” back in second grade. I wore the “Pretty Plus” sizes most of my tween and early-teen years. I NEVER wore a single digit size as a teen. I am probably in better physical condition now than I have ever been in my life. But I do not consider myself “skinny”. If I told you my height and corresponding weight, you’d be all, “Yup. Not skinny.” I do not see a “skinny” girl when I look in the mirror. Though… to be honest I am the most comfortable in my own skin since… honestly, I don’t know that I ever felt as comfortable in my own skin until recently. And though I feel fairly comfortable, I still tug at my shirts and poke at those pesky skin rolls…

So, recently, a friend mentioned that her mom identified me as “Oh, the skinny one?”.

*blinking*

I nearly pooped my pants.

You don’t even know.

I wanted to french kiss her mom.

Instead I told my husband about this fabulous compliment! Do not get mad at my husband. You might feel what he said (see below) was a HORRIBLE comment. But it wasn’t. We both nearly fell on the floor in laughter, and I think I even gave him a High 5 for his keen wit.

Me: Dude. My friend, my, my, my friend….  said her mom called me “the skinny one” today!!! Dude! … DUDE!!!!  *holds arms out and looks self up and down with approval*

Hubs: *with one side of his upper lip lifted* Skinny??? Compared to WHO???

You have to admit, that was pretty good. He went all Michael Scott on me!

Of course, this was on the heels of this convo regarding a new band he discovered and wants to play the guitar just like the guitar-guy. I suppose I deserved it….

Hubs: Hey! I found a new band that I love! Listen. I want to do music like this!

Me: Oh baby!!! You can TOTALLY play like that! They aren’t very good!

Good thing we found each other. No one else would ever have us.

Yesterday was a big day. Not only was it the world premiere of my first music video, but it was also my husband’s birthday AND my blog’s birthday. Let me tell you, it ain’t easy brining breakfast in bed to a blog. A girl has to get VERY creative to make a blog’s “big day” special… 5 years of blogging. Whoa. For my husband, alls I had to do was go to the local market over there and buy their wicked-awesome biscuits and gravy!

My Hubby Hubberson (oh he hates it when I do that “-erson” stuff!). 

I want to spend a few words swooning about my husband. Why? Well, he did choose Me, so I don’t have to tell you he’s a Smarty Smarterson. That’s obvious! He is also cute. And he does a stellar job at being “Dad”. The best choice I have ever made was to love a man who loves his children with the passion my man has… a man who swoons rather than fumes over the insanity of our emotional daughters… a man who models both gentleness and strength to his son. 

My guy. He’s patient. He’s imperfect. I need my man to be patient and imperfect. I need patience because I can be exasperating. I need imperfection because perfect people intimidate me and are… exasperating ;)

His sense of humor is enviable. It is also disgusting. And infuriating. And embarrassing. And hawt. A wicked-awesome sense of humor is hawter than lava *szzzzzzz*… He makes me laugh harder than anyone I know. He can also make me gag more than anyone I know. He is a creative man. Creativity mixed with his brand of humor can take a girl places… Let’s just say with my highly-developed gag reflex and his “creative humor”… Umm… My gag-reflex gets a great deal of practice.

He has a singing voice that makes the ladies melt. Seriously. On more than one occasion I have had other women swoon flutter melt inquire, “Does he sing to you all the time??? He must sing to you all the time…” And then there’s his pencahnt for bringing forth the laughter. Women love a funny man…”Do you LAUGH all the time??? I bet you laugh all the time…” I am serious. As a heart-attack. This has happened more times than I can count on both hands. He’s a crooner. He’d be a comedic force on Saturday Night Live… But ladies. He’s mine. MY burden blessing.

He talks A. Lot. People. You have no idea. This is a rare trait in husbands. Some of you ladies may be jealous. There are very few women I meet who complain that their husbands talk too much. Friends, my husband is EXHAUSTING. He’s got a woman’s mouth when it comes to the gift of gab. Lawdy! But I am not complaining… really… It is mostly irritating because, gollygosh, WHAT ABOUT ME? Isn’t it all about Me? How can it be about Me when He is talking like… like a person who never stops talking? Huh??? HUH??? 

Mah man. He joys with me in my victories and comforts me in my defeats… even if it’s silly. And it usually is. He thinks I am funny and acts like he misses me when we don’t get to spend time together. It’s nice to feel important to someone… As I train for various running or triathlon events — he is the one watching the kids, picking up the slack while I go on 2, 3, 4 hour runs or workouts. He lugs the kids at the events while I chase my dream of  ”just finishing”. I could NOT do it without his support and encouragement. He is the hairiest “cheerleader” you will ever meet, and he is not allowed to wear a cheer uniform. But he is allowed to yell, “Run, Jenny, Run!”

He indulges my need to write. Never squelching my  silliness… my posting with reckless abandon here at Jennyonthespot. In fact, 5 years ago — on his birthday — he set up this blog and even came up with the title that stuck like flies on flypaper: Jenny On The Spot. The gift of a blog to me, on his birthday.

Sure, we have our “things”. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t have “things”. But  I am not gonna tell you about that stuff. Isn’t it enough to know two wonderful people have “things”, just like you??? We’re practically normal.

I am so thankful my husband was born. I am thankful for the life he has lead and life he desires to lead. He is strong and noble and compassionate. He is infuriatingly optimistic, but I will change him…

So, Baby… Happy Birthday — yesterday. Thank you for all you do for me, for our family. Thank you for working hard… not only to support us, but also in your efforts to be the husband and father that we need. You have said recently, “I married up.” Hmmm… I don’t agree, Baby. I’m the one who “married up”. 

Really.

P.S. I love you.

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I mentioned yesterday that I am not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I don’t even know if “Valentine’s” should have an apostrophe. Sheesh. If it wasn’t for the glitter I think I’d shoot Cupid with his/her (yeah, another reason I don’t “get” it) own arrow. But I am actually trying to spread some love in this post, and am failing miserably. It must be the blackness of my anti-Valentine heart oozing through the tips of my fingers. 

See. Can’t stop. I need to regroup. While I do, here is a love song for all my bloggy, twittery Valentines out there *swoon*

But I am not done with my gift to you, my bloggy pals! Have ya’ll heard of “linky love”. I know you have. Not only do bloggers do it for the comments, we also do it for the links/trackbacks, yes? C’mon… let’s be honest here. Well, I found a FUN site yesterday that will let me put some effort into my love for you. If you will leave a comment (yes a bit self-serving, but it really is the most efficient) with your twitter id and/or your link… I will send some linky love courtesy of http://linklove.hubspot.com. If you do not have a twitter id – no problem! Just make sure your link is included, and I will make it so. It is my Valentine gift to you. MWAH!!! MWAH!!! MWAH!!!

Continue reading ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. Really.’

A few days after the election, my husband and I saw this in one of the yards at a frat house near the University of Washington. My husband took the picture. I was driving, and told him he HAD to get a good picture, because… hello? I’m a blogger! And, as the old saying goes, “I am soooo blogging this!”

Oh yeah, the picture:

My husband titled this: Undecided Voter

Kids these days…

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So, the other day (7daysago) Paul and I sauntered into a cute little shop. In that shop I saw this sign:

I immediately began thinking of place to hang a sign that was OBVIOULSY crafted just for Me. I thought, “Can I make that into a necklace? Can I mount that somewhere on my car? Maybe I should just place it above the front door of my home…”

As my mind raced with options, my husband made his preference known,

WE SHOULD HANG THAT OVER OUR BED.

He is such a guy… and yes we should.

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Has anything made YOU laugh lately???

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