The family & I drove out to Murfreesboro tonight to get my car repaired. The deal is that I needed it serviced: breaks, oil, belts, etc. This is a big 'ole expense. BUT, hubby's brother knows a guy who can do all that for a fraction of the cost. Woo Hoo! The catch was, we had to take it to him in Murfreesboro.
While we were out there, we visited with hubby's sister-in-law, and his sister and brother-in-law. Then, we found a Bojangle's Chicken & Biscuits. Okay, I need to say that their sausage biscuits are something I would fight my momma for! So I was in southern culinary heaven. The kids agreed with my assessment, and we all petitioned the manager to build one in Hendersonville.
On the way home, the girls sang Michael Buble', Shania Twain, Owl City and Justin Beiber. Keith slumped in the back seat with his head phones on, trying very hard to ignore his sisters and their complete un-coolness. Of course, hubby and I had to pick at him a little bit, and encourage the girls just to make Keith crazy.
When we got home, we watched the American Idol we had recorded, and hubby and I gave our own critiques of the singers and the judges. The kiddos wanted to watch Glee, but we were completely done for the night, and made them take showers and go to bed.
All-in-all, a great night. We'll be shuffling around for the next several days with only one car. I missed book club tonight, which made me quite sad. And we have to go back out to Murfreesboro to retrieve our car when it is ready.
But it is all worth the blessing of being able to save some money. And the even bigger blessing of some quality family togetherness.
That makes my mommy heart very, very happy! :)
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
It's Magic
Tonight my children and I watched "Bewitched" together- the old black & white version. We had fun watching the plot, and I enjoyed telling them about "the old days." Rotary phones, kitten heels and proper English were all things my children were intrigued by.
It took me to another time when I was growing up. When I thought the magic of "Bewitched"was something cutting edge and wonderful. I was reminded of other shows from that time in my life: "I Dream of Jeanie," "Gilligan's Island," even "Love Boat," and "Fantasy Island" came to mind.
Trying to tell my kids about these shows made me get all misty-eyed. However, my kids were only impressed until Endora, Samantha's mother, vanished and took their attention with them.
It was easy enough for me to stay back in that time for just a little while longer. I was taken back to the end of disco, back to phones that didn't work if they weren't attached to a wall, back to eight track tapes, back to Julie McCoy helping people find their soul mates on the "Love Boat," and Gilligan being clutzy and stupid while the Professor made major scientific breakthroughs on "Gilligan's Island."
Then the kids broke the spell.
"You're touching me!" Amy hollered.
"You took my seat," Keith retorted.
"Let me have the remote, Keith," Emma scowled.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. I was jolted back to the present time. "Bewitched," credits were rolling. My cellphone chirped. I propped my Crocs up on the table. I realized I was nowhere near Tattoo and "la plane, la plane," on "Fantasy Island." But I was okay with that.
I'm happy where I am. But it's still fun to watch the old shows with the kids. ;-)
It took me to another time when I was growing up. When I thought the magic of "Bewitched"was something cutting edge and wonderful. I was reminded of other shows from that time in my life: "I Dream of Jeanie," "Gilligan's Island," even "Love Boat," and "Fantasy Island" came to mind.
Trying to tell my kids about these shows made me get all misty-eyed. However, my kids were only impressed until Endora, Samantha's mother, vanished and took their attention with them.
It was easy enough for me to stay back in that time for just a little while longer. I was taken back to the end of disco, back to phones that didn't work if they weren't attached to a wall, back to eight track tapes, back to Julie McCoy helping people find their soul mates on the "Love Boat," and Gilligan being clutzy and stupid while the Professor made major scientific breakthroughs on "Gilligan's Island."
Then the kids broke the spell.
"You're touching me!" Amy hollered.
"You took my seat," Keith retorted.
"Let me have the remote, Keith," Emma scowled.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. I was jolted back to the present time. "Bewitched," credits were rolling. My cellphone chirped. I propped my Crocs up on the table. I realized I was nowhere near Tattoo and "la plane, la plane," on "Fantasy Island." But I was okay with that.
I'm happy where I am. But it's still fun to watch the old shows with the kids. ;-)
Junk Busters
Yesterday the kids and hubby and I cleaned the downstairs. And I don't just mean a little bit. I mean the deep down kind of clean that gets the dirt out of the corners of the corners.
We've lived in our house for eight years this October. We have accumulated more "stuff" than I ever could have imagined. Some of it was sentimental (Awww... Keith wore that the first time he threw up on my mom...). Some of it was something one of the kids just couldn't part with (because, of course we'll use the barbie doll with her hair burned off, one arm and a blue face from the sharpie marker). And some of it was stuff we had meant to throw away, but it got shoved behind other stuff and we forgot about it (Why did we keep this glass duck ashtray again?)
Yesterday, it went away to the trash. And then we cleaned the space it had been in. And then we organized what was left.
Ahhhh... It felt so good to go to bed last night knowing our downstairs was clean and orderly.
The upstairs will be tackled at a later date. So for now, just close your eyes and only reopen them when you come back downstairs.
Hubby commented that the trash collectors are going to wonder what in the world happened in our home this weekend. Our trash cans were full to over-flowing, and we had multiple other garbage bags and boxes stacked beside them. I'm sure we do look a little like we're moving or on a home make-over show (like "Hoarders").
The kids complained at first, as I expected they would. But after they began seeing the results, they were happy (well, that may be too strong of a word) to help.
Next weekend, my little army of dusters, wipers and organizers will join me upstairs as we tackle the bonus room (with VHS tapes of Barney on my list of "out of here's") and the bedrooms (ACK!). Then, at some point, (like when I've had a lot of wine) we'll tackle out the two storage spaces (the "ultimate" storage of junk!).
But for today, I take great satisfaction in looking at my clean kitchen and family room. The floors are shiny, the counter tops are cleaned off and the pantry is completely reorganized. What a great way to start the week! :-)
We've lived in our house for eight years this October. We have accumulated more "stuff" than I ever could have imagined. Some of it was sentimental (Awww... Keith wore that the first time he threw up on my mom...). Some of it was something one of the kids just couldn't part with (because, of course we'll use the barbie doll with her hair burned off, one arm and a blue face from the sharpie marker). And some of it was stuff we had meant to throw away, but it got shoved behind other stuff and we forgot about it (Why did we keep this glass duck ashtray again?)
Yesterday, it went away to the trash. And then we cleaned the space it had been in. And then we organized what was left.
Ahhhh... It felt so good to go to bed last night knowing our downstairs was clean and orderly.
The upstairs will be tackled at a later date. So for now, just close your eyes and only reopen them when you come back downstairs.
Hubby commented that the trash collectors are going to wonder what in the world happened in our home this weekend. Our trash cans were full to over-flowing, and we had multiple other garbage bags and boxes stacked beside them. I'm sure we do look a little like we're moving or on a home make-over show (like "Hoarders").
The kids complained at first, as I expected they would. But after they began seeing the results, they were happy (well, that may be too strong of a word) to help.
Next weekend, my little army of dusters, wipers and organizers will join me upstairs as we tackle the bonus room (with VHS tapes of Barney on my list of "out of here's") and the bedrooms (ACK!). Then, at some point, (like when I've had a lot of wine) we'll tackle out the two storage spaces (the "ultimate" storage of junk!).
But for today, I take great satisfaction in looking at my clean kitchen and family room. The floors are shiny, the counter tops are cleaned off and the pantry is completely reorganized. What a great way to start the week! :-)
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Suiting Up
Yesterday I apparently felt the need to really hate myself. Because I decided I needed to go ahead and get my bathing suit for the season.
I went into Khol's overly optimistic on the selection, discovering, unfortunately, that nothing had changed since last season. There are three kinds of bathing suits: the bikini, the slightly-bigger-than-a-bikini and the "big momma" mumu.
The bikini is an article of clothing (if it can qualify as a whole article of clothing) that covers the very bare minimum of flesh. It is designed for little, bitty girls who are very confident. It is NOT for girls who have a little (or a lot) extra junk in their trunk.
The slightly-bigger-than-a-bikini suit still shows a lot of flesh. Sometimes they are even one piece suits. But they still require a lot of extra confidence, and not a lot of extra "you."
From there, we jump straight to the dress with briefs and bra cups built in. The fabric is awful. The colors and/or patterns are cheap-looking. And there is little to no shape to them. These scream, "I am too fat to care how I look anymore." Or, "I'm old enough that I really need the bra cups to roll my boobs up and stuff them in."
Why is there nothing in between? Cute, sporty, young. But able to cover enough of your body to make you feel un-naked. Why does it either have to be Playboy Bunny or Golden Girls/Free Willy?
I finally selected a few that were the least offensive and went into the dressing room.
Dressing rooms in general are unfriendly to the ego. They have harsh, bright light and big, unforgiving mirrors. My fresh-from-winter vampire white skin was translucent, and not in the pretty way. And what had looked like soft curves in jeans, suddenly looked like flabby cellulite in the bathing suits.
It took every ounce of will power in my being not to either 1) scream bloody murder at my reflection, 2) cry uncontrollably, or 3) both. But I managed to force my way through the suits. Finally, I selected the least of the evils (which isn't saying much), and planned to use fake tanning lotion and wear make up and a cover up to try to offset the suit.
My mood for the day was shot.
I craved what had gotten me into this flabby, floppy body mess in the first place: chocolate, and lots of it. I searched back to the memory of me in the suit, which was now seared into my brain, and was able to leave the chocolate alone.
However, hubby offered me a glass of wine, which I happily took. Finally, I began to feel the irritation of my shopping/torture excursion uncoil.
After my second glass of wine, I came to the conclusion that the next time I go shopping for bathing suits, I'll have the wine first. I'll use the fake tanning lotion beforehand, and I'll have a make over to boost my self esteem before I start.
And, it might not hurt to try on the suits in the dark either... I'm just saying...
I went into Khol's overly optimistic on the selection, discovering, unfortunately, that nothing had changed since last season. There are three kinds of bathing suits: the bikini, the slightly-bigger-than-a-bikini and the "big momma" mumu.
The bikini is an article of clothing (if it can qualify as a whole article of clothing) that covers the very bare minimum of flesh. It is designed for little, bitty girls who are very confident. It is NOT for girls who have a little (or a lot) extra junk in their trunk.
The slightly-bigger-than-a-bikini suit still shows a lot of flesh. Sometimes they are even one piece suits. But they still require a lot of extra confidence, and not a lot of extra "you."
From there, we jump straight to the dress with briefs and bra cups built in. The fabric is awful. The colors and/or patterns are cheap-looking. And there is little to no shape to them. These scream, "I am too fat to care how I look anymore." Or, "I'm old enough that I really need the bra cups to roll my boobs up and stuff them in."
Why is there nothing in between? Cute, sporty, young. But able to cover enough of your body to make you feel un-naked. Why does it either have to be Playboy Bunny or Golden Girls/Free Willy?
I finally selected a few that were the least offensive and went into the dressing room.
Dressing rooms in general are unfriendly to the ego. They have harsh, bright light and big, unforgiving mirrors. My fresh-from-winter vampire white skin was translucent, and not in the pretty way. And what had looked like soft curves in jeans, suddenly looked like flabby cellulite in the bathing suits.
It took every ounce of will power in my being not to either 1) scream bloody murder at my reflection, 2) cry uncontrollably, or 3) both. But I managed to force my way through the suits. Finally, I selected the least of the evils (which isn't saying much), and planned to use fake tanning lotion and wear make up and a cover up to try to offset the suit.
My mood for the day was shot.
I craved what had gotten me into this flabby, floppy body mess in the first place: chocolate, and lots of it. I searched back to the memory of me in the suit, which was now seared into my brain, and was able to leave the chocolate alone.
However, hubby offered me a glass of wine, which I happily took. Finally, I began to feel the irritation of my shopping/torture excursion uncoil.
After my second glass of wine, I came to the conclusion that the next time I go shopping for bathing suits, I'll have the wine first. I'll use the fake tanning lotion beforehand, and I'll have a make over to boost my self esteem before I start.
And, it might not hurt to try on the suits in the dark either... I'm just saying...
Friday, May 21, 2010
Tell Me About It!
Since there has been written word, there has been respect for it. Not too long ago in our history it was uncommon for women or children to know how to read, much less write. As we became more enlightened as a civilization, books were held in highest esteem, and grammar, spelling and punctuation were taught to every child as a prerequisite of moving up.
Business, finance, law and education split hairs to get the exact meaning of a phrase or idea to the point that the definition is twelve times longer than the word. Communication is vital, and having precision is crucial.
Enter the present. The formal need for structure and precision is still very much needed. However, socially, we have new mediums in which we communicate. We now have the internet, emails and texts. Our world will never be the same.
When the world first got email, I spent time writing out a letter like I would if I were writing a letter to mail. Soon, it was common knowledge that email was in place to make communication faster. That meant that some of our social courtesies were not necessary, and, in fact, not wanted. The idea was to get to the point, say what you had to say, and move on.
I had barely caught on to this concept when we began using text messages on pagers and then cell phones. Talk about condensing an idea! Whew! My kids can have an entire conversation in about three texts. And they only use about six letters, numbers or symbols per text!
At that point I realized, I was officially "old" in my children's eyes. It was kind of like when I was in college and asked my dad about a floppy disk and he got that "deer in headlights" look on his face. Mentally I thought, "Old." I see that look on Keith, Emma and Amy's faces, and I know what it means.
Of course, I did it to myself. If I had been smart, I would have just googled "LOL", "ROFL", "G2G" and other such phrases designed to make us move at an even more break-neck speed than email ever thought of. But, instead, I asked the kids. At first, they laughed, assuming I was being funny. Then realization sunk in that I was clueless. Then I got that look: "old."
Today, I'm happy to say I can usually figure out most text acronyms, even if I don't readily recognize them. I have also been trained in the ways of making faces out of symbols, so that if I'm being funny about something, I can include a smiley face :-) to underscore the fact. Or if I'm mad I can make a frowny face :-( to really bring home the fact that I'm very displeased.
It makes me wonder what our forefathers who labored for literally months over our Constitution would have written if they were to write it today? Would it simply say:
"Yo, Peeps! Listen up! B :-) . Don't stress. K? Peace out."
Wonder if poor Thomas Jefferson is rolling over in his grave?
Hopefully, there will always be a place for formal writing that requires following time-honored spelling, punctuation and grammar rules. In my heart of hearts, I believe there will be.
Guess time will tell...
G2G,
MommyBarbie :-)
Business, finance, law and education split hairs to get the exact meaning of a phrase or idea to the point that the definition is twelve times longer than the word. Communication is vital, and having precision is crucial.
Enter the present. The formal need for structure and precision is still very much needed. However, socially, we have new mediums in which we communicate. We now have the internet, emails and texts. Our world will never be the same.
When the world first got email, I spent time writing out a letter like I would if I were writing a letter to mail. Soon, it was common knowledge that email was in place to make communication faster. That meant that some of our social courtesies were not necessary, and, in fact, not wanted. The idea was to get to the point, say what you had to say, and move on.
I had barely caught on to this concept when we began using text messages on pagers and then cell phones. Talk about condensing an idea! Whew! My kids can have an entire conversation in about three texts. And they only use about six letters, numbers or symbols per text!
At that point I realized, I was officially "old" in my children's eyes. It was kind of like when I was in college and asked my dad about a floppy disk and he got that "deer in headlights" look on his face. Mentally I thought, "Old." I see that look on Keith, Emma and Amy's faces, and I know what it means.
Of course, I did it to myself. If I had been smart, I would have just googled "LOL", "ROFL", "G2G" and other such phrases designed to make us move at an even more break-neck speed than email ever thought of. But, instead, I asked the kids. At first, they laughed, assuming I was being funny. Then realization sunk in that I was clueless. Then I got that look: "old."
Today, I'm happy to say I can usually figure out most text acronyms, even if I don't readily recognize them. I have also been trained in the ways of making faces out of symbols, so that if I'm being funny about something, I can include a smiley face :-) to underscore the fact. Or if I'm mad I can make a frowny face :-( to really bring home the fact that I'm very displeased.
It makes me wonder what our forefathers who labored for literally months over our Constitution would have written if they were to write it today? Would it simply say:
"Yo, Peeps! Listen up! B :-) . Don't stress. K? Peace out."
Wonder if poor Thomas Jefferson is rolling over in his grave?
Hopefully, there will always be a place for formal writing that requires following time-honored spelling, punctuation and grammar rules. In my heart of hearts, I believe there will be.
Guess time will tell...
G2G,
MommyBarbie :-)
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