30 Day Blog Challenge – Day 4


Today’s challenge is to discuss my favorite picture of my best friend.

Bestie and I have been together for about 7 years.  We met in dance class for our oldest daughters.  I showed up to this class in my favorite holey jeans, stained hoodie and flip  flops.  I decided that I wasn’t going to talk to “those moms” and I would sit there and read a book and live happily ever after.  Then, about half way through the first class, this girl looked at me and said “What’s your name? We’re going to be friends”.

What the what? Who does that?  She does.  She was right.  If we had to sit there and suffer, we might as well be friends.  And so it was.  She doesn’t judge.  She listens.  She understands that we both have lives, jobs, responsibilities, husbands and kids.  If we don’t talk for a week or 2, that’s fine.  If we don’t see each other for 3 months, that’s fine.  We pick up right where we left off.  She knows my crazy and I know hers.  If I want to throat punch number 1, she offers to hold him for me.  She knows I won’t do it.  We’ve cried together.  We’ve laughed together.  We’ve discussed running away, hiding bodies, day drinking, day smoking and everything in between.  All of which we will never do, but damn it sounds good sometimes.

My favorite picture of Bestie is from a party at her house.  We may or may not have had a few margaritas.  She wanted a tattoo, right then.  I reminded her that it was her kiddos birthday party so it was a bit inappropriate to leave.  She was sad at me. ❤ I love you Bestie!!!

in the beginning…

My love for writing started in third grade at Dixieland Elementary.  My teacher was Libby Ellis.  She was an amazing hippy lady.  She’d rescue baby squirrels and bring them in her shirt pocket to school.  She didn’t shave or color her long beautiful grey hair that she wore in a braid.  She had a boyfriend named Chet.  It’s funny the things you remember 25 years later.  I remember hardly anything about any other teachers.

She was passionate about writing.  We’d keep a journal every day.  She’d reply and ask us questions.  She taught us the writing process.  Step by step, we came up with amazing stories.  We did brainstorming.  We did rough drafts.  We edited until they were perfect.  We did a neat sheet.  Then, we submitted them to my mom who would painstakingly typed them up in proper book format.  Then she’d bind them and put them in our contact paper covered cardboard covers and seal them with binding tape.  We had little labels on the front.  Finally, we used colored pencils to illustrate our prized possessions.

All of this hard worked culminated in a field trip to the Young Authors Conference at Florida Southern College.  We dressed nicely.  We met real live authors.  We were hot stuff.  I was forever hooked.

Writing gives you freedom to say what you really want to say.  It gives you the freedom to explain everything about your topic.  You can take time to research and fight your fight.  You can express gratitude or hatred.  You can express pain and triumph.  You are free to choose from any combination of words.  Writing can be formal or informal to suit your mood.

Then there’s the brilliance of words with so many meanings…

My favorite is fuck.  How many different ways can you use this amazing word?  Fuck off.  Get fucked.  Fuck you.  Fucking awesome.  Fucking hell.  What the fuck?  I could go on all day.

The only drawback that I find with writing is that words are so powerful.  Words cannot be unspoken.  Words cannot be unheard.  If you break a bone, it will heal.  If you break a heart, it is forever wounded.

I may not write to Pulitzer standards.  I only write to make me happy and that’s all that counts.

weekend worries


I met a new extended family member on Christmas Day. To avoid talking politics, we talked religion. He was fascinated about the depths of religious convictions of Americans. Long story short, I told him about a girl at the middle school who was perceived to be a devil worshiper. Numbers 1 and 2 were disturbed that she was observed chanting. I told them that if they wanted the freedom to pray before meals, she deserves the freedom to chant. If she is not physically harming them, she can practice her beliefs in any way she feels necessary. He said that is a very open minded view. He’d never heard anyone express it quite like that. I told him I have bigger things to worry about than what other people believe.

I have to worry about if there are clean underwear, gallons of milk and if I have something to cook for dinner. He asked what I worry about on the weekends. I said I worry about whether the cars have been washed. He laughed and stated I needed proper weekend worries.

What do weekend worries consist of? War, politics and religion?

The kids and I were recently discussing war.  Number 3 has been learning about the Civil War in her gifted class.  We briefly discussed how the kids think that America should but out of everyone else’s problems.  I posed this question: When a country is committing genocide, should we but out?  If a country is threatening us or one of our allies, should we but out and wait for something to happen.  There’s no right answer.  I think most of the time we, as a country with a very powerful military sometimes has to pick the lesser of the evils.

As far as politics goes, I am just completely disgusted.  I think that our system is antiquated.  I feel that our system won’t change for fear of the “good ‘ol boys” losing their comfy leather chair.  I don’t think that people should be elected based on who they know with the biggest wallet.  I feel that the electoral college is stupid and we should just follow the popular vote.  I could go on all day with this.

When it comes to religion, I wholeheartedly believe that everyone should be able to practice and believe as they wish.  I feel that people should be free to pray as they wish, wear any religious symbols that they wish and practice as they wish as long as it doesn’t directly affect someone else.  People argue that Muslim prayers shouldn’t be allowed at work because it stops progress.  This is complete and utter bullshit.  Prayers take 3-5 minutes.  I’ve seen people take 30 minutes for a 15 minute cigarette break.  Maybe we should outlaw cigarette breaks.

Ok, those are my new weekend worries.  Now I have a headache.

30 Day Blog Challenge – Day 3

My Favorite Store – Ace Hardware

This was a tough one because I wanted to say Lowe’s.  It’s big.  They have everything.  To me, though, customer service trumps anything that the big chains have to offer.  My Ace Hardware is a family owned hardware store in Winter Garden, FL.  I love this place.  Number 4 and I go there if we’re not sure about what we’re doing.  We browse, we sing, we laugh.  When we have a question, the guys don’t look at us like we’re idiots.  When I was fixing our water feature in the front garden, I told him that I had that “black tubing stuff that has the wire in it that’s hard as hell to cut and I need more of that”.  He said okay and took me out back to explore the sizes.  I needed a screw for the car.  I took the old one up there and the guy went through all of the drawers and found the perfect one.  The list is endless because I can fix anything (I tell myself).  Number 4 likes to stack stuff.  He arranges the shelves when I am browsing.  I’m sure he will be working there soon.


Most recently, I needed to redo the dryer vent.  The last “heavy duty” one crushed and was sending lint flying around the laundry room.  Again, I asked for help and we were helped with a smile.  This is a video of number 4 helping me look at vent hoses.

So if you are in my area and want to conquer the world (or your home) swing by my favorite shop.

The 30 Day Blog Challenge #2

Today says that I should show you a photo of something I ate today.  It’s 10:36 AM so it won’t be that exciting.

This is a photo of my empty cereal bowl and my coffee.

Breakfast is a HUGE drama for me with #1.  He’s been asking me for as long as he could speak for sugary cereal.  I can’t wrap my mind around a child starting his day with a bowl of sugar to help them have a fantabulous day at school.  I see people pushing their buggies at Wal-Mart with 5 boxes of frosted marshmallow sugar cubes and I think “ooh their kids are going to feel awesome!”  This is just my personal opinion.  So I splurged and picked up Honey Nut Cheerios.  I had a bowl of them with a banana and Lactaid.  In my most beautiful cup from my BFF I have a double shot latte and a little sugar free French Vanilla syrup.


For regular meals, I try to cook as healthy as possible.  I try to not use processed food and add as may vegetables as I can into as many hidden places as I can.  This usually ends in mass disappointment or me vowing to throat punch a kid.

I guess this blog will chronicle these adventures.  Wish me luck.

lyrical masterpiece


I’ve been watching this show, Sonic Highway on HBO.  It’s Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters exploring the history of American music.  To me, Dave is a hero.  Music is not only our culture, but the world’s culture.  It unites us all.  On every corner (or curve for those of us who know the earth is round) of the earth, people use music for the same thing.

Music says the things that words aren’t quite enough for.  Words are flat.  Words are cliché.  Words do not express emotion.  They are cold and callus.  Their bite can sting and cut you to the core.  This is because when people speak, they rarely say what they mean.  The whip out something to win an argument or push people away.  On the other hand, when people wield words of love and admiration, the recipient rarely understands the magnitude of what is being said.  They often dismiss it feeling they aren’t worth of the praise.  More often than not, people rarely have the actions to substantiate the words that they speak.

I think people are nervous to say the things they feel.  They may be embarrassed that they will sound stupid, unmanly, corny or maybe even like an asshole.  Sometimes the truth hurts to speak, but the …

The most beautiful and painful example of this would be “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton.  This song was written when his son tragically died.  I couldn’t imagine finding word to express the agony he must have gone through.

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I couldn’t fathom letting the words come out.

In most every culture, music is used to express emotion.  It is a celebration.  It is a battle hymn.  It’s a mourning.  It’s a plea.  It’s a greeting and a salutation.  It’s a prayer.  It’s a universal language.  It the cadence to which we live our lives.

When I was born, I was immediately immersed into a very eclectic musical experience.

My mom would sing songs to me for all occasions, from waking up to going to sleep.  Every night she would sing “Good Night Sweetheart” by Dean Martin.

Goodnight sweetheart
Til we meet tomorrow
Goodnight sweetheart
Sleep will vanish sorrow

Tears and parting may make us forlorn
But with the dawn a new day is born
Goodnight sweetheart
Though I’m not beside you

I grew to associate music with comfort.  As I got older, I did the same.  There was The Temptations for happy times, Air Supply for sad times.  Merle Haggard, Hank Williams and all the other outlaws were for family gatherings, also known as pickin’ n’ grinnin’.  Guns n’ Roses helped us clean the house.  Statler Brothers accompanied us while cooking Thanksgiving dinner.  Bluegrass music is associated with camping in Georgia.  The Monkees and The Mamas and The Papas were for long trips in the car.  As I grew older, I broadened my horizons and added Linkin Park and Staind to help with my perpetual stress.  Also, 90s rap music lightens the mood.  Tone’ Loc, 2 Live Crew and Bel Biv Divo never let me down.

When I had children, I carried on this tradition.  There’s nothing better than when your babies turn into toddlers and they start singing love songs to you. They also learn music association. Recently, “I Could Not Ask For More” by Sara Evans, came on. Number 4 said, Mom, this is Number 1’s night time song. He knows that The Platters “Only You” will sooth him.

When our time here on earth is through, I know I can count on someone to Sing Me Back Home before I die (Merle Haggard).

Blog Challenge Day 1


So I found this little blog challenge on Pinterest. (http://www.contentwritingwizard.com/2012/12/new)  I thought I’d give it a try.  The worst that can happen is no one will read it.  Today I am supposed to put a picture of myself and tell you about my day.  So here is me at a museum in Stockholm.  I felt like I was on the show “What Not to Wear”.  It was one of those horrible mirrors, but a cool picture. 

Today pretty much sucked.  I’ve been feeling blah.  My wacky nunu thyroid is being a bitch today.  Also, it was gloomy outside.  I was pretty much Eeyore today, as I have been for a week now.  Tomorrow will be better.  At least I had all of my chores done before I hit the couch.