Mom To The Rescue!

I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks since my last post!! Really I thought it was only 2 and that was bad enough, but 3?! I should be ashamed! And I am. While I have my reasons for the hiatus (as usual) I’ve decided to wait another week to share them with you. Don’t worry, its all good, in fact some of it is super EXCITING!! (EEEE!) In the mean time, I leave you in the very capable hands (and feet?) of MOM who has a refreshingly comical way of looking at potentially disappointing occurrences. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

For Sale: Medieval Torture Devices

A few days ago, I did something completely out of character for me. In my older age, I love comfort. Nothing makes me feel more comfortable than a pair of worn flip-flops. Why else would we live in Florida?

We have an EVENT coming up this weekend, which requires something a little more sophisticated than flip-flops; so, I went shopping for some sensible but somewhat attractive shoes. That’s when they caught my eye – the cutest pair of high-heeled sandals — and in MY size. I’m not too old to look tall and elegant, am I? Shakily, I tried them on. They were very good-looking on my pedicured feet. I felt a little pinch on the little toes, but nothing a bandaid or two won’t cure. With glee and a little guilt, I purchased my new high-heeled shoes.

The event is in a few days, so I donned my new shoes to break them in. After six seconds, I put bandaids on my pinkie toes. Ten seconds later, I slapped bandaids on the instep; a few steps later, bandaids on the heels. Now I have mummy feet dressed in cute little shoes. No problem. They just need to be worn awhile to stretch out.

I have no fear of heights. I have stood toe to glass in some of the world’s tallest buildings and looked straight down. I have flown in gliders, small planes, and helicopters. Nothing made me as dizzy as elevating my heels three inches. I walked into the kitchen, hanging on to the walls, with tiny steps and dizzy head. I felt motion sickness coming on, and reached for the Dramamine. By now, I was more determined than ever to BREAK these shoes in and get used to them.

Have you ever done laundry in high heels? Do you know that when you bend down from the added height, you have a lot farther to bend than normal? I held on to the dryer to keep from toppling over. I pulled laundry into the basket one-handed, dizzy-headed, and noticing a slight pain in the Achilles tendons of both legs.

When I straightened up, I saw that my hot-pink-tipped, pedicured toes were dead white. You’d think if they were dead, there would be no feeling. Oh, no! Each mincing step shot lightning bolts of pain into my poor, zombie toes. The pad of my foot spoke LOUDLY in protest. I ignored their accusatory complaints because I am determined to BREAK IN these blankety-blank cute little shoes!

From the kitchen to the bedroom to the living room – I straightened the house, did laundry, fixed breakfast, washed dishes, and finally – FINALLY – sat down at the computer for a much longer stay than I had planned. If I sit through the entire event we’re going to, I should be able to show off my cute little shoes with minimal anguish. Right?

Do you know that as your feet swell, the straps of fancy little sandals do NOT stretch to accommodate the swelling? Now I have FAT dead-looking feet sticking out of these cute little shoes.

I no longer want to break the shoes in before the event. I simply want to BREAK them. Take them off! Soak fat feet in a cold bath! Rip the bandages off and wait for relief, and wriggle my newly freed toes in comfy flip-flops.

Seriously, does anyone want to buy a barely-worn pair of medieval torture devices with cute little restraining straps and three-inch spikes? Size 7 ½ wide, they should fit just fine. Bwaahaaahaaahaaaahaaaaaa.

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I Can’t Bare It!

As I mentioned in my last post I started a new job this week so I’ve decided to use that as a convenient reason to not write this week. That and the amazing wedding B & I went to and shot this weekend for our dear friends Leslie & V. We have tons of BEAUTIFUL footage! I can’t wait to start the editing process. Unfortunately there is just not enough time in a week to do it all. But have no fear! Mom has come to the rescue! (Wipes sweat off brow.) Today I present a fun little tid bit on grammar, everyone’s favorite subject, written in my mom’s witty style. I promise you will enjoy it! Really. Would I lye to you?  

I CAN’T BARE IT!

If you’re like me, the title would have made you cringe. There are few things as disturbing to an avid reader as the misuse of words.

Call me Gramma Grammar Cop. Before you call me out on my perceived misspelling, may I point out that Gramma, like NaNa, Pop-Pop, Nanny, Granny, etc., is a proper name and the phonetic spelling of grandma as spoken by little mouths.

I recently read a book which had the elements of suspense, great characterization, interwoven plot lines and a dynamite ending. I would have enjoyed it, had I been able to cruise past the jarring walls thrown up by common grammatical errors any good editor should have picked up on. You know what I’m talking about. Here are some examples:

“I can’t bare it!” Whatever it is you can’t bare, probably should remain covered up. If the burden is too heavy, then you might not be able to BEAR it. Yes, bears live in the woods, too, but there are sometimes two or more different meanings for one spelling of a word. Welcome to the English Language.

Their they go, getting there knickers in a twist again. And they’re hair is a mess, too. My teeth hurt from grinding. Do you see the problem here? “There” is how you spell it when you mean over there. “Their” means it belongs to them. “They’re” is short for they are.

Yesterday, I seen a billboard with a gross misspelling. Ouch. I SAW it. I HAVE SEEN it. See the difference? “Seen” is not the past tense of see unless it’s used with the helper word “have” or “had”, depending on the meaning you want to convey.

I do not loose my keys, unless I’m setting them free. When I lose them, it’s usually not with the intent of liberating them.

I am no techno-phobe, but one disservice technology has given us is the auto-correct function. It just turned the correct use of “they’re” to “there”, as I typed it. The challenge is to catch it in the act and nip it in the bud, or, use an extra set of eyes to catch it later. That’s called editing.

I’ve been guilty of letting some of these typical errors lie in wait for the unsuspecting grammar cop to find, so I don’t feel badly about airing my opinions here. Sometimes two sets of eyes don’t catch the little devils. It’s when an entire document, or book, as in the case of the one I labored through, is fraught with these little trip-ups that Gramma Grammar Cop is ready to tare her hair out. Oops. “tear”.

The Dead Thing Saga Continues and Ends

I haven’t been very good about updating on the Dead Thing saga, but by the end of this post you will be fully informed.  Sadly this may be the last post on the subject because the Dead Thing was finally found! Two days ago as a matter of fact thanks to an invasion of flies and a VERY brave critter control specialist. But I am jumping ahead of myself.

My first account of the “the smell” confirmed there was something dead somewhere in the recesses of the crawl space under my place of work. The first critter controller was unable to find the body. However, during that initial search we discovered a significant hole in the back wall from which the smell was traveling into our office. That led to my next assignment: find a contractor to seal up the hole. Within two days the contractor arrived armed with spray foam and…moth balls! Not knowing the full effect of moth balls he explained to me that since there was a critter problem they would put the moth balls in the hole prior to sealing it up. Apparently critters do not like moth balls. Neither do humans. An hour after the contractor left, my boss was asking me to get him back now to get the moth balls out! It was worse than the smell we had been dealing with for a week. The strong toxic smell of moth balls times 100 because an entire box had been emptied into the wall +  a slightly less-powering smell of rotting animal (we hoped that’s what it was) = NOT a good combination!

It took a couple more days for the contractor to fit us in. He removed the foam, took as many moth balls out as possible and sealed the hole back up with foam. In case anyone ever asks you “as many moth balls as possible” is never enough. Even if you remove every single last one of them it can still take weeks for the smell to dissipate. And since he didn’t remove every last one of them the smell was only slightly less-overwhelming, leading to my next assignment: get the contractor back again to tear the wall out if he has to and get every single last ball out of the wall!

The next time the contractor came out (we are at week 3 now) it was with his boss. It was determined that the wall would have to be dismantled from the outside to remove the last remaining moth balls, and on the third try they got ALL the moth balls. So everything was right in the world again, right? Of course not! That would not make a very interesting story now would it?

Over the next week, the moth ball smell lessened and the death smell lingered and moved. Eventually it went away altogether. Instead of going out quietly (because how cool would that be?), it left in its place an invasion of the biggest, blackest flies I have ever seen. At first we noticed 6 – 8 of them in the windows. My boss and co-worker took up the challenge (a little too eagerly if you ask me) of ridding the office of these offensively buzzing creatures the old fashion way, rolled up newspaper style, and they were successful…until the next day. The flies had multiplied over night. There were now at least 12 – 14 flies in the building! After some more effective swatting, I suggested getting a fly catcher (you know, one of those strips that hang from the ceiling in almost every corner store I’ve ever been in).

I have a new appreciation for those fly strips. They really work! The only trick is trying to open them and hang them without getting stuck yourself. If only their were a hidden camera for all the mess ups I had.  However, for every one I put up I caught at least 15 – 20 flies,  sometimes more. This lasted at least week before…

enter Brave Critter Control guy!

When he saw the issue, he went on a search for the source of the flies. He climbed into the attic (without a ladder I might add). He just shimmed his way up there. Then he moved to the crawl space. When he finally emerged about 30 minutes later, he asked for a trash bag because he had found the dead thing! While in it’s current position it was unidentifiable he was able to confirm that it was indeed an animal and not a human. Phew! It wasn’t until he pulled it out that he discovered it was an opossum that has been dead for about – you guessed it – 2 months! This was not his first trip to the abyss so how did he finally find it?  The trail of really big, really black flies led him straight to it. He also discovered how they were entering into the office and  stopped it up for us. Since then there have been no new fly sightings!

So that is the end of this saga. Just thought you might want to know.

Tight Rolling

Thanks to my youngest son’s fashion sense (black hi-top sneakers with neon green accents)I coerced my co-workers into a conversation the other night about fashion repeating itself. I’m a firm believer that there are just some things that should be left in the 80’s and 90’s, although I have to admit, E (said son) can totally pull off the neon. There is actually only ONE thing I dread returning to the fashion world and that’s tight rolled jeans. Apparently, I have felt this way a LONG time because I just stumbled upon a post I wrote in 2008 about exactly that. So I decided that tonight I am going to re-post my 5 year old rantings because they still apply. Enjoy!

Yesterday, a dear friend of mine was trying out a new style. She is a beautiful young woman and she totally pulled it off. She was wearing skinny jeans that were folded at the bottem so that they almost looked rolled up. Like I said, she looked great but it immediately brought back images of junior high (late 80′s, early 90′s) and tight rolled jeans. I said as much and everyone looked at me like I had gone batty (which is a look I receive often enough to know what it means). So, my question is: does anyone else remember that horrific time in fashion, besides myself? And did it traumatize you as much? I made the statement that if the tight rolled jean look repeats, as fashion has a tendency to do, I am leaving the planet. I hope no one in that room holds me to it however, since the technology is just not available to sustain life on the moon at this time.

It did bring up another question though. Why does it seem that only the fashions from the 60′s on are repeating? There are so many generations before that time that have great fashion to offer. I don’t see any problem in greeting my husband at the door after a long day of work in a 50′s style dress with accompanying pearls and high heels. It’s actually a testament to our femininity that we are able to vacuum, prepare dinner and take care of the kids in said fashion. Or what about the flapper style of the 20′s? Women really broke the mold then, claiming independence from the expected fashion of the day. All this to say to those that have influence in what’s in style….PLEASE don’t bring back the tight rolled jeans!!!!!

I guess I was a little less wordy back then. Anyway, I’d love to know what your fashion fears are, if any, or what fashion you would love to see again. Please let me know in the comments section below. By the way, I hear Fanny Packs are BACK!

This And That

It’s late and I should be sleeping but I didn’t want a week to go without posting, so this will be a short one…a little of this and a little of that.

I was recently reminded of another silver lining that comes from divorce, at least from a single mom’s perspective…TAX RETURNS. My chin nearly hit the floor when I saw what I was getting back. I’m not talking cha-ching since there is always something that needs attention the minute there’s even a hint of extra cash, but I will be able to get that new dishwasher, thereby saving several of the towels that end up on the floor to sop up the mess the current one is making. And I can finally get some new tires on the car. Well maybe not NEW but at least lightly worn. Woo hoo! Shopping spree. Too bad I can’t use it on a new wardrobe or a vacation sans children. Maybe next year.

We had a wonderful visit this past weekend with my dad and MA (yay!). They surprised my boys in Target of all places. It was a set up of course, and there was an additional surprise of an early birthday present. While the boys played with their new toy, I had some quality time with MA. But as time will do, it flew by and before we knew it they had to return home. It was sad to say goodbye and reminded me of how much I miss them and the rest of my family. There is something to be said of living in close proximity to your loved ones. (Actually there are probably several things to be said on the topic, both pro and con…not going to touch that one at this hour.)

While I was sad that their visit had come to an end I still has something to look forward to. As a Christmas gift I bought B (and myself) tickets to see one of the bands we love Ra Ra Riot. Although the waiting from December to February was difficult, it was well worth it. They put on a great show with great energy. The opening band Pacific Air was also impressive. Now, anyone I’ve told about the concert has looked at me sideways because they haven’t heard of either. Please someone tell me they’ve not only heard of them, but agree with me that they are fantastic!

Exciting news: I just launched my business with Origami Owl selling Living Lockets. This is so out of character for me that I still can’t believe I’ve done it. For more information on these products and the business click here.You can also visit and like my Facebook page. I’m still learning so be patient with me.

A weird thing has been happening to me lately. Well, several weird things have been happening, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my crankiness and woes of motherhood so I’ll stick to my original thought since it’s actually about thinking. You know that inner monologue or voice you hear when you think about writing something? Lately, my inner voice has been saying ya’all a lot! For instance, I wanted to write “Check out my Facebook page Ya’all”. Why? I’ve never said ya’all in my life! Not out loud and not in my head. What is happening to me? Any ideas? (Feel free to leave them in the comments).

So, there you have it. My shorter than normal and extremely discombobulated (<- OMG I didn’t realize that was a real word) ramblings. Hope it wasn’t too A.D.D. Have a great weekend!