Friday Fragments...

~When I was tucking him in Wednesday night, Dracen proclaimed... (as he sighed dramatically) "I'm exaggerated!"  

"You're what?" I asked.  


(as he sighed again and fought back a grin while placing his hand to his forehead in swooning fashion) "I'm EXAGGERATED and I'm imagining things."   


"Dracen, I think the word you are looking for is exhausted.".

***

~Devin wanted to fix a frozen pizza the other day so I told him to turn the oven on to 400 degrees. Our stove is gas and is on the other side of the kitchen from the oven so I was perplexed to see him go over to the stove in order to turn it on. 

I swear I think he does stuff like that in order to get out of me asking him to do anything at all productive.  In the end, his excuse was that he just simply had a brain fart.  

***

~The guinea pigs, Junebug and Maxie, got a new crib this week because I condemned the old one. It came via UPS Tuesday afternoon and I was really dreading getting it out and putting it together because it's kinda big and just like the old one that I put together so I knew it was a bit of a pain.  

To my gracious surprise, Dracen took it upon himself to get it out of the box and put it together himself.  I think I am now beginning to reap some of the benefits of having a spirited, energetic child. Though he did leave the kitchen upside down, sticky and covered in fruit after making himself a smoothie yesterday afternoon.  I'm going to have to take the curtains down and wash them. Seriously.

***

~Schools were out here Monday and Tuesday for teacher workdays and come Monday afternoon I was just about at my wit's end with the fighting and arguing.  We were planning to go out to eat at Red Lobster when Charlie got home and I was already dressed and wearing my black boots.

Devin had locked himself in the bathroom to escape the retaliation Dracen was about to throw on him and Dracen was beating on the door.  I got so mad that I kicked (yes, kicked!) the bathroom door with my black boots. (I blame PMS)  

I immediately felt like a fool so I gained control of myself and promptly began spraying and wiping the marks off.  Thank God there was no permanent damage.  

***

~As we were driving down the street the other day Dracen saw a man walking and said, "I think that man may be a hobo."  And then, "You know how people have jobs and then they have the things they like to do on the side? Well, when I grow up, my thing on the side is going to be helping homeless people find homes."


And my heart grew three sizes that day.  

***

~Report cards came home for both boys yesterday.  Dracen made  A Honor Roll.  His brother made all sorts of grades.  And I'll just leave it at that. But I will say this...I did not yell.  Also, I found this article most helpful.

***

~Charlie's mom sent him this joke the other day and warned him not to try it at home. I would advise the same.  To him and to every other man in the free world...

A husband had just finished reading a new book entitled, "You Can Be THE Man of Your House"...

Finding new courage that he never knew he had, he stormed into the kitchen and announced to his wife,

"From now on, you need to know that I am the man of this house and my word is the 'Law.' You will prepare me a gourmet meal tonight, bring it to me, and when I am done eating my meal, you will clear the dishes and serve me a scrumptious dessert. After dinner, you are going to go upstairs with me and we will make love the way I want! Afterwards, you are going to draw me a bath so I can relax. You will put on soothing music, wash my back and towel me dry and bring me my robe. You will massage my feet and hands to relieve any last bit of tension so that I can sleep like a baby. Then tomorrow, guess who's going to dress me and comb my hair?"

The wife replied, "The funeral director would be my first guess...

Unless I have your ass cremated."

Happy Friday, Y'all!

*You can see more Friday Fragments or link up your own at Half-Past Kissin' Time! 

The Ones That Got Retold...

*Written in response to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop prompt...

You know the stories that are retold a million times at family gatherings? I call them Life Stories that you just never live down. List your Top 10 Life Stories.

Okay, Here Goes...

1. When I was five years old my dad met Lynne, the lady who would become his second wife and like a second mother to me.  She had a daughter two years younger than myself.  She was not shy. I was. Extremely. On  the night we met for the first time, the four of us were in the car and she just kept chattering, chattering, chattering...on and on...When suddenly, in mid-sentence, she stopped and shouted, "Mama, Mama! Can she TALK?!"  Neither of us have ever lived that down which was a little annoying when I was growing up but is now one of my favorite childhood memories.


2. I had two little identical giraffes that, looking back on, resembled squeaky toys for dogs(heck, maybe they were!) that I got at K-Mart when I was really young...probably three, I'm guessing. Only I thought they were rabbits and they felt cold to my touch so I called them "Cold Rabbits"  and I did not leave the house without them.  If I left them at my babysitter's house somebody was driving back across town or she was going to have the longest phone conversation of her life in order to assure me that she would put them to bed and take extra good care of them until morning.  


3. I pretended my dolls were real babies for a long time...way after I was old enough to know better. I wrote a post about Shelia Claudia once I know but she was my favorite.  I still have her.  Anyway, I once pulled the Christmas tree over on my little brother and Shelia but all I could say was,"SHELIA!  SHELIA! OMG, GET SHELIA! SHE'S UNDER THE TREE!"  Yeah, that one did not go over well and was brought up for a long time.  I think my dad wanted to wring my neck and burn Shelia at the stake.  


4. I was born disorganized and my room was almost always a disaster area.  One Spring it started stinking something horribly awful and we could NOT find where the funk was coming from.  Eventually, we did.  It was rotten Easter eggs still in my basket in my closet. From Easter. That had long since come and gone.   


5. After waiting in a really, really long line for a really, really long time to get an immunization I needed to start school, I bolted.  My mother chased me all the way down the hallway and to the Exit door that I was about to bust down before she caught me and dragged my little butt back in there to get my shot as all the other well-behaved children who were lined up neatly in single file fashion looked on in horror. 


6. I got a note sent home for unruly conduct by the band teacher in middle school.  My mother didn't know whether to punish me or to just simply be relieved that I'd finally come out of my shell.  


7. There are very few professional photos of my baby and toddler years because I was appalled by photographers and even got so upset once that I threw up all over one. Or so I've heard it told.  A few times.


8. I was notorious for getting sick on or just before a big vacation.  I was running a fever and throwing back shots of cold and cough medicine that I had stashed in my fanny pack, along with my Kleenexes, at Disney World in 1995.  In the hottest part of summer. 

9. To say that I overreacted and over-dramatized any situation that involved me getting hurt in any way, shape, form or fashion would be an understatement of ginormous proportions. And I know I've told this story once on this blog before but the best example and the one I never did live down happened at my Dad's and Lynne's house...


We were outside playing when I hurt my foot somehow.  I can't even remember how now but I was all kinds of hysterical.  I was carrying on in a big way... screaming, squealing, yelling, moaning, crying out in agonizing oh- my-sweet-Jesus-I'm-dying pain.  


Lynne had not yet experienced the magnitude of my drama so she came out of the house fully expecting to see a severed limb or a gouged out eyeball when I, through sulks, sobs and tears said, "My-f-f-f-foot!  I-hurt-my-f-f-f-foot and it's b-b-b-bleeeeding!"  as I thrust my foot into the air to show off my injuries.  Only to realize that I.had.the.wrong.dang.foot.  


Oops.  My bad.  


So I paused, took a breath, and said, "It's the OTHER one!  It's the OTHER one!" as I thrust the real hurt foot into the air and continued on with my performance.   


10. Okay, I can't even believe I'm about to tell y'all this one but it too was frequently brought up throughout the years and also when I was spending weekends with my Dad and Lynne... 


I had some really smelly gas and had been dropping silent bombs in the car that were so bad everyone was cracking their windows and doing the whole gagging with their tongues out routine when I inhaled deeply, got a devilish grin on my face, and without even thinking, shouted out,"I LIKE TO SMELL MY OWN FARTS!" 

Wordless Wednesday...Nice Wheels!

My Mom...

The bicycle has done more for the emancipation of women than anything else in the world. ~ Susan B. Anthony  

There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.  ~Elizabeth Lawrence

My Dad...

I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. ~Dr. Seuss 

My Boys and Me...

Babies are such a nice way to start people.  ~Don Herrold

Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.  ~Rabindranath Tagore

The greatest poem ever known
Is one all poets have outgrown:
The poetry, innate, untold,
Of being only four years old.
~Christopher Morley

Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music.  ~William Stafford

Having a two-year-old is like having a blender that you don't have the top for.  ~Jerry Seinfeld

Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open.  ~John Barrymore

Minutes are worth more than money.  Spend them wisely.  ~Thomas P. Murphy

Trust only movement.  Life happens at the level of events, not of words.  Trust movement.  ~Alfred Adler

Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons.  ~Author Unknown 

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race.  ~H.G. Wells

Ten Things That Give Me Anxiety...

Today I'm joining in for the first time for Monday Listicles with Northwest Mommy.  I just could not resist the opportunity to list 10 things that give me anxiety...


1. Report card day. And it is coming up very soon since today and tomorrow are teacher workdays here.  They are being prepared as I type. It gives me more anxiety now than it did when I was receiving them myself (with the exception of 10th grade when I was flunking Algebra). Lecturing/punishing/talking to a twelve year old for or about anything leaves me feeling the urge to curl up in a ball and suck my thumb.  


2. Dental appointments. Just typing that brought a feeling of nausea over me.  And my next one is coming up next month.  


3. Fighting/Bickering/Arguing/Shouting. I do not deal well with conflict or turmoil of any kind and my boys are at each other's throats more often than not. And no, I'm not on medication.  I just pray and blog.  A lot.  


4. Those animal abuse commercials.  Specifically the one with Sarah McLachlan.  Talk about ruining an otherwise perfectly fine day. Animal abuse makes me want to go all ape sh*t on somebody's arse.  


5. Trying on jeans or swimsuits. Swimsuits for obvious reasons and jeans because it is next to impossible to find a pair to fit my body.  I'm not lacking any junk in the trunk so finding a pair to fit that without having the gap at the lower back big enough to hold a watermelon is no small feat and leaves me feeling lightheaded and a little like I've just run a marathon.  Not that I would really know that though because I do not run.  Unless I'm chasing Brisco the bolting wiener dog. Which brings me to number six...


6. Bolting wiener dogs.  We adopted Brisco (Big Boy) and Charlene (Li'l Bit) in 2009.  The fosters warned us that Brisco is a "bolter".  Come again?  I had had fourteen years experience with Dachshunds at the time but had never heard of one doing this.  


They did not exaggerate.  He is a bolter and will seize any opportunity he gets in order to buzz past you and out of the open door that does not lead into the fence and hightail it to the woods at the speed of light. I have chased him through a creek, down a steep hill, through briers, woods and backyards more times than I care to remember. So has every other member of this household.  


When the doorbell rings, we all immediately look around for Brisco the Bolter and secure him before opening the door.  Fool me eleven times, shame on you!  Fool me twelve, shame on me!  


7. Grocery shopping.  I'm not sure what it is exactly that I hate so much about this task but I loathe it and will put it off for as long as I possibly can.  


8. Being asked to serve on a committee. This is extremely awkward for me because it's not that I don't care about the cause or that I'm unwilling to help out... I just don't do committees.  


9. Hearing "Momm!  The toilet is stopped up!" Yeah, I don't think this one needs an explanation.  


10. Worrying about the well-being of my boys and other loved ones.  I don't think I'm ever completely without worry.  It's like I somehow believe that if I don't acknowledge something as a possibility and place it in my worry box, then it has a greater chance of happening.  I know it's completely irrational and unhealthy but as much as I pray about it and blog about it, I just can't seem to let go of the worry.


But I'm working on it...

Squirrel Appreciation Day?

I had no idea today was Squirrel Appreciation Day until I saw a post from Animal Planet on facebook this morning.  I didn't even know there was a such thing as Squirrel Appreciation Day and I'm guessing none of y'all did either. 


Well, according to Animal Planet there is and it is today, January 21st, and it was started by a wildlife rehabilitator from Asheville, North Carolina (which is just about an hour and a half drive from me) in 2001.  


You learn something new every day!  


Anyway, since it is indeed the day to honor these cute little tree rats (and also because this was a good excuse for me to take another break from cleaning house),  I'm sharing my most recent photo of the Darlings ''appreciating" the one who feasts daily on the berries of the holly tree beside my bedroom window...

Happy Squirrel Day! ;)

A Grief Revisited...The Five Stages

In my last grief post I talked about how surreal my life had become. Today I'm going to talk about my experience with the Five Stages of Grief that Elisabeth Kubler Ross first introduced in her book, On Death and Dying, in 1969, two years before I was even born.  I recalled studying about them in school but I was amazed to discover just how right on they really were...

These stages did not necessarily happen in order for me as I am sure they don't for most people. The first one I recall experiencing was Bargaining... I think I knew he was gone before I ever even knew he was gone, if that makes any sense.  I felt it in my bones and in my soul before I ever got out of the house.


I remember trying to bargain with God though.  I begged him not to let this happen... promising, vowing to be a better wife, a better person, a better Christian, if he'd just let him live.  As if this was somehow my fault...like I was being punished for my imperfections. I realize now how irrational and self-centered this belief was but when you're in the midst of something so monumentally tragic, your thoughts are anything but rational.  


I think I experienced a little Anger pretty early on, before we had even left the hospital, but what I was mostly feeling then was shock.  I remember the Denial clearly because once the finality of it sunk in for me, I was mortified by some words of denial I spoke to Devin a few days after his death. But I know I fully believed them at the time which is so bizarre to look back on because I've always considered myself a person with a pretty good understanding and grasp of reality.  


I don't remember the date exactly but I know it was probably within just a few days after the funeral. Devin was only four so I can only imagine how he was processing this in his mind since I was finding it so difficult to comprehend myself.   We were in the living room, just the two of us, and he was lying on the couch when he said, very matter of fact-like, "My daddy has been gone for a long time now. When is he coming back?"  


And I spent a lot of time later on beating myself up for this but God help me, I was in such a shattered state at the time that I actually thought it was possible.  I said, "He's in heaven now, remember?  But maybe God will let him come visit us sometimes...like as an angel."   And I believed that somehow.  I really did.  


Grief does some crazy things to us.  


The Anger and the Depression seemed to come and go as they pleased.  One minute I'd be pissed at Darin for allowing such a thing to happen to himself and leaving me with so much responsibility and two boys without a father.  The next minute I was shouting at God for allowing this to happen.  I wanted to know where his guardian angel was that day!  I wanted to know WHY?  Why me?  Why him?  Why us?  


If I wasn't angry, I was depressed.  I hated sunny days because the sun and singing birds seemed to be mocking me.  I wanted them to be depressed too.  Misery often does love company.


Yeah, the anger and the depression took turns for quite awhile.  I sometimes felt like I had more personalities than Sybil, never knowing which emotion I was going to be hit with when I got out of bed each day.


Finally there is Acceptance.  It, however, was not the final stage.  It wasn't as if I woke up one day and said, "Okay, this is it.  He's not coming back so I'm going to stop grieving and get on with my life now."  Grief is nowhere near that simple.


Looking back, I'm going to say I probably entered the full on acceptance stage sometime just after the one year mark.  It was like a turning point for me.  I had survived all the firsts. And for me, that was huge.  I knew that everything was going to be okay from there on out...Not perfect... (I mean whose life ever really is?)...But okay.  


I felt like a true survivor for the first time in my life and I was ready to start rebuilding...

   

What I've Learned From Extroverts...

I am an introvert.  No two ways about it. I think many of the kids in my elementary and middle school probably suspected something was seriously wrong with me because I rarely spoke to anyone. And if they didn't think something was wrong with me?  They thought I was a complete and total snob who thought she was too good for them all.  


Of course neither of those things were true.  Social situations were just extremely difficult for me.  


And while I have improved my social skills greatly over the years, I'm still the same ole introvert I always was. But because I find it hurtful when I hear that someone concluded that I simply did not like him or her (thanks to the extroverts in my life telling me so) I have learned to make more of an effort to appear a little less aloof.


And that's not the only lesson I've learned from the extroverted people I have known and loved over the years.


Here are just a few more that come to mind...

~Other people, even the ones you are closest to, really cannot read your mind. I seriously think I forget this from time to time.  An introvert internalizes everything.  Our wheels are constantly turning within even when we may appear to be in a complete state of rest on the outside. So I now try to make more of an effort to actually speak or write some of my emotions, wants, and needs rather than keeping them locked up tight in that little box in my head. 


~Paying someone a compliment can often turn their day around. (Just do it.)
I know this because I have been on the receiving end of such compliments.  I don't think I ever realized though that while I often thought of them myself, I rarely spoke them.
  
Charlie (one of the most extroverted people I've ever met) helped me see this a few years ago... He was wearing a light turquoise-colored polo and I said, "You look really good in that color. That's your color."    A huge grin came across his face and he said, "Thank You! You don't give compliments very often."  My reply was, "I don't?  Well...I think them."  


So now I try to remember to actually pay the compliment forward rather than keeping it to myself.  


~Someone not remembering your birthday or another significant date/detail does not mean they don't love you.  I think this was one of the hardest lessons for me to learn.  We introverts think, observe and listen much more than we speak which makes it easier for us to remember such things. I rarely ever forget someone's birthday. Ever.  Once I file something like that away internally, it is always there.  


Most extroverts are not like this.  I am aware now that this is a gift and that I should not take it personally when someone else doesn't remember every single detail about me and about our past together.  They are just wired differently, that's all.  


~Go ahead and point out the obvious because chances are pretty good that it may not be as obvious as you think.  Again, introverts internalize things and we listen to and observe our surroundings A LOT because we aren't busying ourselves with chatter.  So what may seem obvious to us may go completely unnoticed by everyone else.  


I can't tell you how many times I've kept quiet about something important simply because I thought it was obvious to all, only to find out later (from an extrovert) that I was the only one who noticed.


~People are not nearly as focused on you as you are. So lighten up.
I think that we [introverts] spend so much time within ourselves that we sometimes assume that the rest of the world is just as focused on us which leads to more social awkwardness and anxiety. 


They are not.  


And the extroverts in my life have taught me this.  Chances are pretty good that nobody else is noticing that tiny zit beside your nose, that little scuff you just got on the front of your boot, or that your black t-shirt is a shade off from your black yoga pants (something you did not yourself notice until you got out into a brighter light and are now freaking out inside about.)


So now when I feel myself having an inner panic attack over something so insignificant and trivial, I remind myself of what my beloved extroverts would do...



And I just roll with it...


Shrug it off, carry on, and roll with it. 


And maybe even laugh at myself a little in the process.


**This post is part of the Writer's Workshop at Mama's Losin' It.

The closet gets cleaned and SpongeBob gets dissed.

I am happy to come here today and report that my closet is no longer hazardous to my physical well-being because the pics I posted of it here yesterday succeeded at shaming me into straightening it back up...again.  And I am quite positive that I would not have carried it out had it not been for that.  
Because I was so not feeling it.  


It was not, however, as bad as it looked or that I had originally thought because the complete organizational job I did in there back in September was still partially there.  I just had to uncover it.  


See?

I should probably think about maybe getting around to taking that trash bag full of clothes that is sitting just outside it in the bathroom to the Salvation Army sometime soon though because it has been there since September. Also, I could probably stand to bag up a few more things because who needs a hundred and ninety two t-shirts?  I have no idea why it is so difficult for me to do things like that but it always has been.  


Procrastination is my middle name. 


In other news, Brisco Darling will go in dark and early in the morning for his teeth cleaning.  Why in the h.e. double hockey sticks it is necessary for him to be there before the roosters crow is beyond me but it seems that is always the case even with any type of human surgery.  


Not that this is surgery but dogs do have to undergo anesthesia in order to have their teeth cleaned which is why it costs about triple the amount of having my own teeth cleaned.  And also leaves me in a state of worry until I can go and pick him up because Worry is my other middle name.  I have a few.  


I'm trying to get Li'l Bit out of having hers cleaned this time.  Hers aren't nearly as bad as his and the dog doc suggested I try an oscillating toothbrush, telling me that dogs seem to do better with those than with the back and forth brushing of a regular toothbrush.


Although I strongly suspected this would not be the case, Dracen and I bought them both battery operated SpongeBob (because the kiddie ones looked to be the only ones that would fit in their mouths) toothbrushes at the grocery store yesterday and let's just say that she did not take to it the way I had hoped.  I only wish I had a video of it because the look she gave me just before she began thrashing her head from side to side in an effort to escape was all kinds of priceless.


Maybe I should've gone with Spiderman. Dracen was worried that "they" (I guess the cashier, bagger and other Food Lion shoppers) would think that the SpongeBob toothbrushes were for him.  Possessing a toothbrush shaped like a talking sponge nerd apparently becomes uncool around the age of eight and a half. 


And now that I've seen it in writing?  


I think that may just be a good thing.

So much for pajama day!

I just woke up fifteen minutes ago, at 9:52 a.m.  And I think I only woke up then because Brisco Darling walked into the room and gave me a glare that said, "WTH?  Don't you think it's high time you got your lazy arse up outta that bed and let me outside, already?!"


The boys are still sleeping and I know I should wake them up so that they can go to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight but waking them will increase their time together which will also increase the amount of bickering I will have to endure today. So I've decided to sit here and drink my coffee in peace and let nature takes its course.  At least until 11:00.  I will be forced to take action if they are asleep past eleven.


My dreams of staying in my pajamas all day today have been crushed, however, since I never made it to the grocery store over the weekend.  I'm not exactly sure what it is that makes me loathe grocery shopping so much but I rank it right up there with housework and organizing things. 


I still haven't figured out how I landed this gig as a stay home mom yet because my housekeeping skills are mediocre at best.  I'd much rather decorate or paint the house than to clean or organize it. Just as I'd much rather make new outfits out of my clothing items than to hang, fold and color coordinate them all neatly in stacks and rows. And don't even ask me about the state of my kitchen cabinets or refrigerator. 


There are those among us who were blessed with the gift of organization and good housekeeping skills.  I am not one of them. And I accepted this fact long, long ago.    

I try.  Really, I do.  I can't tell  you how many times I've organized something like my closet.  I spent hours one Saturday back in September re-organizing it once again and was pretty successful at keeping it that way for awhile. I have the pictures to prove it...See?

And this is what it looks like today ...

I'm not sure why I just showed y'all that hot mess that can only be blamed on me and me alone since I'm the only one who goes into that closet. I think I'm hoping it will motivate guilt me into doing something about it.  


So now it's eleven o'clock (the time I said I'd wake up the brothers), I'm still in my pajamas, and I have vowed to get groceries and organize my hot mess of a closet.


If this motivational guilt trip thing works I'll be posting after pics tomorrow.  If not, then I'll try to come up with a good excuse...


Happy Monday!  

A Grief Revisited...Defining Surrealism

I started this blog in an effort to share my experience with grief...hoping, praying, that someone, somewhere, would read my words...my story... and find some form of comfort and hope in them. This blog quickly and unexpectedly evolved into so much more than that and I can't imagine ever falling out of love with this thing called blogging.  But...I continually hear a knocking at my soul that I think is telling me to revisit and share my grief story from time to time so that is what I'm doing.  I don't know how often I will do it just yet but my plan is to share a little  more of my story each time because it is my belief that every battle we are forced to fight...every storm life casts upon us, is not only meant to strengthen and grow our own spirits, but those of others as well. So here I begin...

Before losing Darin I really had no clue what grief entailed. My heart always ached and went out to those who had experienced such a great loss.  I would say a quick pray for them, send them a card if I  kind of knew them, and always shake my head and think or sometimes even say aloud, "I can't even imagine."


And I couldn't.  No one can.  Until it happens...


It's like you're going along fine in the world, completely unaware of how fleeting life is, and then BAM!, out of nowhere this thundering beast you never saw coming hits you so hard it knocks the wind out of you and leaves you struggling for breath and grasping for something...anything...to hold onto. 


In an instant everything in and around you changes.  The air even seems different.      


I remember not being able to cry.  I so much wanted to cry, as if that would somehow heal me and take away the sick, empty hole that had suddenly taken up residence in the center of my being. The tears did eventually come of course.  They came so much and so often that I wondered why I ever wished for them in the first place.  


I just wanted to feel normal again but I knew that I never really would.  At least not the normal I had always known.  


There were many mornings I would awake fully believing it had all been some horrible, awful dream but when I sat up to tell Darin all about it, I was hit with that cold, ruthless monster of grief and sick, raw emotion yet again.  I can't recall now how long that went on but that was just one of the many hard truths I was learning about grief. 


There would be good (or at least okay) days...days when I would notice things that I had never picked up on before grief entered my world.  Like those redbirds that suddenly began appearing in the trees in the front yard, or that penny on the floor that  I'd swear wasn't there just a second ago, or the way the clouds, the trees, and the flowers seemed to be talking just to me. 


Surreal.  This was the definition of it. I finally understood what that word really meant for the first time because I was living it every day. 


Where had my real life gone?


Because this one I was being forced to live surely could not be mine...

Friday Fragments...

~I don't know why but I have taken up watching The Bachelor this season.  I'm off and on with that show.  Sometimes I can't stomach it at all but I have been sucked into the crazy this season. I'm not sure what kind of screening they do when choosing these women but I swear I think they purposely pick a few who are clearly clinging to their sanity by their pinkie toes in order to guarantee a good hearty dose of drama queen. 

~I bought some  Boca meatless chicken chicken-like patties last week.  I cooked a couple of them up the other night and slapped them on some whole wheat buns with a little mustard and mayonnaise. Devin actually argued with me by saying, "There is no way this is NOT chicken!"  This vegetarian thing is going along better than I had ever imagined and I honestly do not miss meat at all.  


~This cute little creeper has been hanging out in the holly tree beside my bedroom window.  I took this through the glass...

~I nearly fell out of my chair laughing when I saw this on Pinterest last week.  I cannot tell you how many times I have come home to this exact look!

~Someone is coming to measure the bonus room/bedroom upstairs this morning for new carpet.  I finished painting up there a couple of weeks ago. Sometime after I told the boys I was fixing that up as a family/rec room, we were all having a conversation and Devin said, "Next mom is going to make the bonus room into a pimpin pad!" (or something like that).   When I was twelve "pimpin" meant something entirely different but I'm pretty sure I didn't even know the word!  


~I just realized last night that Monday is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day which means it's a three day weekend and I could not be more excited about the opportunity this will give me to sleep in on a Monday morning! And I'm not ashamed to admit that I may not even get out of my pajamas. 


~In case you were unaware, it's Friday the 13th!  I personally think superstitions are a little weird but I believed them all when I was a kid and was always careful to not do things like open umbrellas in the house and never failed to make an X in the air if a black cat crossed my path. Now I pretend it's good luck if I see one.  I guess that's weird too and I'm okay with that.      


~I want this sign...

**Linking this post up with Mrs. 4444 for Friday Fragments at Half-Past Kissin' Time!

Happy Friday, Y'all!