tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64111241290753534012024-03-13T13:03:38.820-07:00The Daze of UsOur daze with Mom, Dad, three sweet rugrats, some food, and a spaniel named Milo...
Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops.melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.comBlogger312125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-27804709496923310402013-02-21T09:15:00.001-08:002013-10-02T11:55:09.562-07:00goodbye<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm about to break out in song, specifically So Long, Farewell, from The Sound of Music, but I will refrain (though I do know all the parts and all the waves). It's time for this little blog to go the way of all little blogs everywhere, to the Big Blog Land in the Sky, where it can ramble to its hearts content out in the Green, Green Pastures. Everyone dies, my dears, and The Daze of Us is no exception. There are plenty of stories and silliness for you to read, and though I don't plan on continuing writing on here, I still love getting comments and shout-outs, so keep em coming!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Things this blog has done for me:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">given me a voice</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">found me new friends</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">gotten me accused of child-hating (good times, good times...)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">acquired new jobs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">given me an outlet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">caused fights </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">made me think hard</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">renewed my love for writing</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Things this blog has done for you:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">delayed your laundry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">given you something else to read besides The National Enquirer </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, it's lived its life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And it was a full life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Full of giggles, love, silliness, occasional rants, oddball reflections, and a small bit of my heart. Also, copious amounts of cheez-its and bottles of merlot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks for being a part of it for four years! I would kiss you if I could. Really. You can find me on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/melyssa.williams.12">Facebook</a> if you'd like to stay in touch, read me in MaryJane's Farm, and Home Educating Family Magazine, and naturally, look for my books. Maybe someday there will be a new one ... after all, I have four years of material.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Love to you! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">P.S.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Daze of Us funeral and viewing will be Monday, February 25th, when I shut this puppy down. Wear black veils, puhleeze, and bring chocolate. Until then, peruse your favorite posts and remember: that laundry is not going to ignore itself!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That is all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">'Cept ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wuv you. </span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-74767101093945591012013-01-25T16:20:00.001-08:002013-01-25T16:20:39.739-08:00why homeschooled ballerinas rockOnce upon a time, there were two homeschooled ballerinas.<br />
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It is pretty hard to imagine just how hip they were. Homeschooled AND ballerinas. In the '80s. YES PLEASE.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh sorry. How'd Sally Jessy get in here?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqnvvoW0mw/UQMcQZ2LeoI/AAAAAAAABy0/2Ovret-LcvM/s1600/DSCF0090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqnvvoW0mw/UQMcQZ2LeoI/AAAAAAAABy0/2Ovret-LcvM/s320/DSCF0090.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, here they are! Two little lookers. Which is hipper: the plaid vest with the turtleneck, or the doily inspired pinafore? Perhaps the giant scrunchy? </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JB5mUshg5Ic/UQMcROQL_7I/AAAAAAAABzA/X08ih3T6mHU/s1600/DSCF0094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JB5mUshg5Ic/UQMcROQL_7I/AAAAAAAABzA/X08ih3T6mHU/s320/DSCF0094.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry about the flash of light. My sister's legs were landing planes. Like the paneling? Oh I know you do.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xIYlY0DsvIA/UQMcQodP7hI/AAAAAAAABy4/ALQwh_WNlQI/s1600/DSCF0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xIYlY0DsvIA/UQMcQodP7hI/AAAAAAAABy4/ALQwh_WNlQI/s400/DSCF0093.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's more disturbing? The hillbillies on horseback or the fact that I do believe my father has no shirt under his overalls? I need to bleach my eyes now.<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, when you're even half as cool as we are, things just come easily. Like, for instance, six months ago Sally Jessy gave me something from her musical player thingy. I think the kids call it an MP3 player. Or an Ipod. Or some such nonsense. She doesn't know what it is either. I think it came free with her phone or something. Anyhoo. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Make it play music," she says.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Sure thing," says I. "Hubby, make this magical thing that looks like a tiny fashion plate from my old Barbie Fashion Plates, play music, k? K."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"No can do. The SDcard is empty."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Say what now? South Dakota?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Inside your fashion plate there's another fashion plate. Like a card?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Like an ace of spades?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Like a computer chip."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I like chips."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Never mind. Tell her she gave us an empty card."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Who put who in the what now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*sighs*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, obviously, technology is dumb and instead of sending back a full whatevertheheckthatwas, I am just sending her these:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-89208161040181586032013-01-20T09:04:00.000-08:002013-01-20T18:30:06.075-08:00fifty shades of me<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I released a book called Shadows Gray. At the same time, some woman released a book called 50 Shades of Gray. I sold like, two copies. She sold like, six squillion and counting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes someone buys my book and promptly returns it for a refund. I can just picture them yelling,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>hey! what the heck! where's all the naughty bits? boy, cousin Tilly has the worst taste ever in erotica. that's the last time I listen to her; she probably gets all hot and bothered over Sweet Valley Twins.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, I have a few friends who read it, and a few friends who would NEVER read it, and a few friends who don't read anything, so they're out of the equation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't have any interest in reading it, per se, but I had just gotten my Kindle and I was getting the hang of downloading free books.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Free kindle books. This could be a blog post all its own. And it will be soon, I think. I shall title it <i>The Warrior's Werewolf and His Submissive Amish Zombie Lover; the Novella, Part 4. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For a time, amazon was offering the first couple of chapters of 50 Shades for free. So, I downloaded it out of curiosity. Now, I'm not just saying this out of petty jealousy for a woman who became a squillionaire for being a smut writer, but it was pretty boring, badly written stuff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rolling my eyes, I felt dumb for having it on my kindle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, I realized: I had it on my kindle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The kindle that my kids played Angry Birds on. The kindle that my husband peruses when everyone else has the remote control. That kindle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't want them to see 50 Shades on that kindle! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Feverishly, I went to get it off. But getting rid of kindle books is nothing like dropping off your unwanted paperbacks anonymously at the Goodwill! I had just gotten this kindle, remember, and I'm about as tech-y as your average garden gnome. I can barely cut and paste. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I start tapping the touch screen of the blasted device in various patterns. Perhaps if I touch the right spot, it will give me the option to "delete forever from this device and your memory" but alas. I played the opening lines of the theme to the Young and the Restless, which was the only piano song I ever learned, but no. It was still there, mocking me. I could almost hear the Church Ladies marching up my step. They were going to burst into my bedroom! They were going to pray for my wayward soul (again. So awkward). I'd be fired from my job with children! I'd be left by my husband who thought he married a Good Girl! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The tapping wasn't working, so I tried to find the owner's manual. Evidently, the owner's manual is IN the kindle, but I didn't know that at the time. Well played, amazon, well played.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I decide to ask google. I fire up the trusty laptop and type <i>deleting mommy porn from an ereader before anyone finds out.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The laptop FREEZES. I repeat, IT FREEZES WITH THAT OH-SO CRIMINAL SENTENCE IN THE SEARCH ENGINE. It won't minimize the page, it won't close, <i>the laptop won't even turn off. </i>I am going to hell in a hand basket.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The church ladies are getting closer: I can hear them singing Follow the Fold and Stray No More. <i>They are nearly on my lawn! </i>I swear, I have ten heart attacks. I have to get this off my kindle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I go through the rigmarole of waiting for the laptop to mysteriously stop freezing, which takes about 3 weeks. In the meantime, my kids have grown up without a mother and my husband leaves me for Sarah Brown and the Mission Band. One time, a small child enters my room and I toss the kindle like a Frisbee under my bed. I feel like a teen caught with Playboy. Or a mom caught with 50 Shades of Gray. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eventually, once the laptop stops teasing me I find what I'm looking for. To delete a book from your kindle, you simply touch the screen a bit longer and the option magically appears. What a relief. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm so relieved I eat a pint of ice cream and go to bed in my flannel pjs and team building exercise tshirt and fuzzy socks. I've heard an urban legend that reading 50 Shades of Gray ignited fiery passion in the bedrooms of house wives everywhere, but I certainly don't see how. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Those women are so weird, I swear. </span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-72016560806419927942013-01-20T08:34:00.000-08:002013-01-20T08:34:08.016-08:00The day pinterest set my face on fire<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mix an egg yolk with some honey, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Use it as a face mask, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It will smooth your wrinkles, shrink your pores, get rid of fine lines, and make you look like Cate Blanchett, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, they didn't say that. Whatever. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I mixed it up with all the fervor of Dr. Moreau. (He mixed things, right?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then I sank into my gingerbread infused bath as it sat on my face. The concoction, I mean, not Dr. Moreau. That'd be weird! And awkward.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After about five seconds, before I could even crack open my book, my face began to tingle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then it burst into flames.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I washed off my yellow slime and wondered if my free ranging, organic, backyard chicken egg was to blame. Maybe this only worked with pale, grain fed, anemic eggs? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In spite of being gone, my face still burned. In fact, it was getting worse. I stole a peek at myself in the mirror. I was not rocking the cranberry color. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let this be a lesson to us all. There are evil pinterest minions in the world who twirl their mustaches and come up with ridiculous ideas, pin them, then sit back and wait for dummies to try them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am that dummy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am so reporting this problem to the pinterest board. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just as soon as I try this DIY ear wax removal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ta-ta!</span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-76188528431465707562013-01-04T10:15:00.002-08:002013-01-04T10:31:57.633-08:00Beauty RoutinesIf you're like me, you love reading about other people's beauty routines (and you love the color yellow and are scared of shadow boxes) even if you don't consider yourself a fashionista or a regular Carmendy.<br />
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97 days ago I started the Curly Girl Method (you can read about my experiment <a href="http://thedazeofus.blogspot.com/2012/10/curly-girl.html">HERE</a>).<br />
Today, I fell off the wagon. Well, a couple days ago I started to slip off the wagon, when I heated up my trusty old wide barrel curling iron. The soft waves instead of kinky curls! I could run my fingers through my hair without them getting stuck. Today, I fell off the rest of the way when I used shampoo for the first time in 97 days.<br />
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I had to.<br />
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I was turning into Aly Sheedy from The Breakfast Club.<br />
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<br />
Vinegar rinses were helping but not enough. No one wants to see a grown housewife scratching her head like she has lice.<br />
<br />
All in all, my thoughts on The Curly Girl Method are as follows:<br />
<br />
I actually love not using shampoo. I probably will continue NOT using shampoo nine out of ten times. My hair is much softer without it, less coarse, and I think it may even be growing better, cross my fingers and pray the rosary, amen.<br />
<br />
I never followed the two conditioner rule. Seemed like a waste of time to me. I also never bothered with the don't-use-a-towel rule, for two reasons: I hate microfiber almost as much as I hate shadow boxes, and when I walked around the house with a tshirt (the other CG preferred method) wrapped around my locks, my husband started to referring to me as "Swami."<br />
<br />
I was blow drying, upside down with a diffuser. I was also washing my hair upside down, which gave me a frightening view of Gloria, my muffin top, but also gave me a bit more volume and the curls up top formed better.<br />
<br />
Although the curls looked pretty, my hair is not very thick and I was starting to notice scalp peeking through when my hair was "clumping" and curly. Not pretty.<br />
<br />
But the main reason I'm only doing the CGM half-@$%ed is because I hate washing my hair everyday and I could not for the life of me get the curls to look decent on Day #2 or 3. If I straighten things out a bit with a wide barrel curling iron, I can go 4 days without washing. And that makes me a happy, happy camper.<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
For cutting your own hair (yes, I do this. I hate getting my hair cut. I find the leaning over backwards while washing excruciatingly painful, hair stylists cannot be trusted with scissors, and I despise staring at myself in a mirror for that long), I recommend Miss CurliLocks video on youtube. I do NOT recommend my son's method:<br />
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Other beauty products and hints I've been loving lately:<br />
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<br />
<br />
Soap. I don't do froufrou body washes. I love, love, LOVE the smell of soap! It's probably bad for my skin but I love the smell of clean. Caress is what my mom has bought for years so it smells like her house, too. A bonus, although if they start making a Scone scent, that'd be an even bigger bonus.<br />
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<br />
Tights and boots. Gloria is more comfy in tights and a skirt than she is in jeans most of the time. My boots are black and not these pictured above. I forgot: I have a camera now. I can quit stealing other people's images. For other style ideas I love, try to copy, and drool over, visit my <a href="http://pinterest.com/mrslyssa/my-style/">Pinterest style board.</a><br />
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<br />
Ulta lip crayon. Moisturizing and not too spendy (especially with a coupon). I've been loving red lately, but that may be due to my heroine, Lizzie, and her red lipstick.<br />
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<br />
The only deodorant that kept up with my Nutcracker schedule.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Olive oil for face wash. I know I've said it before, but if you aren't using the Oil Cleanse Method, why not? You should.<br />
<br />
Also, I've heard good things about detoxing juices and smoothies, and even things like cayenne pepper/apple cider vinegar/honey tonics, for weight loss and such, but I really can't recommend enough my own personal coffee/half and half/sharp cheese/ice cream/merlot tonic. It'll make you live longer and put a glow in your cheeks.<br />
<br />
You're welcome.<br />
<br />
What are YOUR favorite beauty tricks/products/routines?melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-52573494323003034132013-01-03T08:40:00.000-08:002013-01-03T08:41:27.782-08:00Groceries and Costco and BreastfeedingI now have too many great grocery stores to choose from! I only live in a small town, but boy howdy, we're blessed with great shops.<br />
<br />
We have:<br />
<br />
The Grocery Outlet (my favorite)<br />
<br />
Winco<br />
<br />
Fred Meyer's (everyone claims it's too spendy but honestly, their eggs and almond milk are ALWAYS the cheapest)<br />
<br />
Food 4 Less (cheap, but dirty, busy, and I can never find anything)<br />
<br />
Trader Joe's (adorable but smallish. Love their tortillas and Two Buck Chuck, though!)<br />
<br />
Costco<br />
<br />
<br />
My parents got me a Costco membership, so now I have to know:<br />
<br />
What are the best things to buy at Costco?<br />
<br />
Walk me through it, because this was the first and last time I shopped at Costco:<br />
<br />
I had just given birth to Gianni-Be-Good. I think it may even have been my first outing. First outings after having a baby are monumental, life changing, desperately needed, and always, always, always, horrible.<br />
<br />
We were broke as a joke but everyone kept telling me to use Costco.<br />
<br />
You'll save so much money, they said.<br />
It'll be fun, they said.<br />
<br />
I spent half my week's budget and only bought toilet paper and milk. I left in tears. I was leaking down my shirt, my body hurt, and when my husband gently asked me to cover up better when nursing (in my car. There were pedestrians walking by) I nearly murdered him in several different ways. The baby was crying, my back hurt from my trendy sling, and I just wanted to never leave my house again.<br />
<br />
Hence, the fear of Costco.<br />
<br />
I used to love grocery shopping, back when I never left the house. It was like, my only outing. My only reason to wear actual clothing. Now I leave the house quite often, and I'd rather grocery shop LESS, even if it means spending more at once. (Though I may have a heart attack the first time). If you hear a loud scream, it's me.<br />
<br />
Do you grocery shop once a week? Twice? Twice a month? I have friends who only go twice a month, but my math has never been good and doubling everything I buy sounds...weird. I just can't imagine my groceries lasting two weeks! Is this possible?<br />
<br />
What should I buy at Costco and what should I avoid? I'm the kind of person who will actually go to all those above mentioned stores all in one day, just to get the best price on everything, thus spending five times more on gas. Unless you talk me out of it.<br />
<br />
So, please. Thoughts?melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-54019443326055684402012-12-28T14:59:00.004-08:002012-12-28T14:59:50.234-08:00BOYSBoys are a funny breed.<br />
<br />
For instance, they answer<br />
<br />
Why??<br />
<br />
to every question asked.<br />
<br />
But if YOU ask THEM<br />
<br />
Why??<br />
<br />
they will stare at you, blankly, with absolutely no reply.<br />
<br />
<br />
Let us revisit some of my only son's best antics, shall we?<br />
<br />
And then, let us pour Mama a margarita, shall we?<br />
<br />
Yes. Yes, we shall.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wAQ4BFo42s/SXjH7Ltcf6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/7soJo_o1FxQ/s1600/IMG_1132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_wAQ4BFo42s/SXjH7Ltcf6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/7soJo_o1FxQ/s320/IMG_1132.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">escaping nekked through windows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0xXkbt5IgSE/SZiw_00ypII/AAAAAAAAADI/Hgm7CPQmv3U/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0xXkbt5IgSE/SZiw_00ypII/AAAAAAAAADI/Hgm7CPQmv3U/s320/IMG_1176.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">what happens when get high centered</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-utJrDoHirkU/SZshUOIHyyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/f2sC4ntHHyE/s1600/IMG_1183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-utJrDoHirkU/SZshUOIHyyI/AAAAAAAAADQ/f2sC4ntHHyE/s320/IMG_1183.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first stitches</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lmYeYnqXyZo/SfddaiH71vI/AAAAAAAAAHA/VfsHHiEPUFs/s1600/IMG_1308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lmYeYnqXyZo/SfddaiH71vI/AAAAAAAAAHA/VfsHHiEPUFs/s320/IMG_1308.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first merlot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L4WtQMaPMhI/SiaZKGRnQCI/AAAAAAAAAJk/csBInVR5o4Q/s1600/IMG_1473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L4WtQMaPMhI/SiaZKGRnQCI/AAAAAAAAAJk/csBInVR5o4Q/s320/IMG_1473.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">eating packing peanuts (well, he's allergic to real ones!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7dzQZUhOe8/SiaZKQi0lXI/AAAAAAAAAJs/q8L74uHCE34/s1600/IMG_1479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7dzQZUhOe8/SiaZKQi0lXI/AAAAAAAAAJs/q8L74uHCE34/s320/IMG_1479.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">getting himself a drink of water at the age of 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2C7a5Cl4Oo/SrwYXUf2M4I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/i8YcH6jhLl8/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2C7a5Cl4Oo/SrwYXUf2M4I/AAAAAAAAAQ0/i8YcH6jhLl8/s320/IMG_1741.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"want some butter, mom?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I2uPJ0ctzv4/St4ErAt40DI/AAAAAAAAAUE/Olb7iasi_rQ/s1600/IMG_1758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I2uPJ0ctzv4/St4ErAt40DI/AAAAAAAAAUE/Olb7iasi_rQ/s320/IMG_1758.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">he always left binkies at the scene of the crime</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c1pPNNF_5zY/St4EtZ_iHMI/AAAAAAAAAUM/ttltlkoAcas/s1600/IMG_1765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c1pPNNF_5zY/St4EtZ_iHMI/AAAAAAAAAUM/ttltlkoAcas/s320/IMG_1765.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fish murderer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AanINvIPl4/St4EwETIwwI/AAAAAAAAAUU/QtF1dcjWYfg/s1600/IMG_1767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AanINvIPl4/St4EwETIwwI/AAAAAAAAAUU/QtF1dcjWYfg/s320/IMG_1767.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbie murderer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4m8JqfkBME/St8ggxU4UzI/AAAAAAAAAUk/zV2ErZbN8IY/s1600/IMG_1770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4m8JqfkBME/St8ggxU4UzI/AAAAAAAAAUk/zV2ErZbN8IY/s320/IMG_1770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">he had Alpo breath for at least two years (I'm not talking about the dog)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BnULYINV-8g/Sx8JCwL428I/AAAAAAAAAZc/o7t28RQ8tdw/s1600/IMG_1927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BnULYINV-8g/Sx8JCwL428I/AAAAAAAAAZc/o7t28RQ8tdw/s320/IMG_1927.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For an entire yr, he wore backwards pjs because he wouldn't stop with the gratuitous nudity</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6gSC186B1Dk/Sx8PRdtz81I/AAAAAAAAAac/GXH_csbgmqE/s1600/IMG_1934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6gSC186B1Dk/Sx8PRdtz81I/AAAAAAAAAac/GXH_csbgmqE/s320/IMG_1934.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His friend, Q, poses nicely while G makes a mad escape</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vZgA_5JT69Q/TFxcIk2VjoI/AAAAAAAAAq8/F-vn0LhKTak/s1600/IMG_2508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vZgA_5JT69Q/TFxcIk2VjoI/AAAAAAAAAq8/F-vn0LhKTak/s320/IMG_2508.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">making long distance phone calls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqx3jke3zZw/TJ55zm9xWJI/AAAAAAAAAtE/2bbv4pdLyOM/s1600/IMG_2628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wqx3jke3zZw/TJ55zm9xWJI/AAAAAAAAAtE/2bbv4pdLyOM/s320/IMG_2628.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I blame his rudeness on his father</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cGBlug4zFy4/TJ5qBz2yxzI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nPV6JM0TTeE/s1600/IMG_2721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cGBlug4zFy4/TJ5qBz2yxzI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nPV6JM0TTeE/s320/IMG_2721.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">going through my wallet for loose change</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMEVq4wXpNM/TSYpFRTGkzI/AAAAAAAAAv8/H1isLGI6W2o/s1600/IMG_2322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMEVq4wXpNM/TSYpFRTGkzI/AAAAAAAAAv8/H1isLGI6W2o/s320/IMG_2322.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nekked jam session</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8PriowbGlOk/UNyFYoqo83I/AAAAAAAABtw/pndpl2IDRQI/s1600/DSCF0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8PriowbGlOk/UNyFYoqo83I/AAAAAAAABtw/pndpl2IDRQI/s320/DSCF0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sugar high face<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qe47UyxPnrY/UN4jJ6kJQWI/AAAAAAAABus/hl07JygbuLg/s1600/DSCF0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qe47UyxPnrY/UN4jJ6kJQWI/AAAAAAAABus/hl07JygbuLg/s320/DSCF0040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the latest: DIY haircutting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-90369037489630661932012-12-27T09:32:00.000-08:002012-12-27T09:32:03.106-08:00I Sleep in a Salad Bar<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or at least, it feels like one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have a television in our bedroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have kids.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They snack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You do the math.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes when I roll over, popcorn kernels - you know, the old maids - go flying across the room and pitter patter across the hardwood floor with alarming noise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes, I swear, I have croutons in body places there should not be croutons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wrappers between my toes, and gummies between my...well, never mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And someone's five year old (I'm looking at you, Mike Williams) colored with a highlighter on my bedspread. With his mother sitting right there, coloring her Megamind page and not even noticing! Can you believe it. Some people's parenting skills. So, now I have orange highlighter all over my bedspread, which is covered nicely by a Lightening McQueen blanket (romantic, I know. I should probably get a photo and pin it on Pinterest so you too can have the sexy getaway we call our boudoir) and food in the sheets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ah well. I like to think of the cracker crumbs as an exfoliating scrub that some women would pay upteen dollars for. And the hot cocoa scented pillow cases? Moisturizing and better smelling than the Axe body spray I bought Gianni for Christmas, which I had to hide posthaste because my eyes were bleeding from the odor emitting from his neck, like Pepe le Pew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Speaking of Christmas, my eldest has inherited my holiday depression: sadness that all this merry making is over which starts around 2 days BEFORE Christmas. We started in with our depression last Saturday, and drank our weight in eggnog as we cried into our cheese ball. We perked up slightly by the sight of our gifts - well, she did anyway. She got a Kindle and I haven't seen her in 3 days now. I hope she's eating. I can just picture her emerging from her bedroom with a Rip Van Winkle beard, a withered old crone. Yes, a crone with a beard! Use your imagination.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In other news, the girls are enjoying school, though of course, they're off right now. In all the sold out theater for Les Mis, Anna was the only kid. I don't know whether other parents feel it was not appropriate for children (I covered her eyes during the prostitute scene) or if kids these days are uncultured ignoramuses. Good think I spelled ignoramuses correctly the first time, or I would have had to delete that whole ironic sentence. Anyway, she was enthralled since she's known every lyric since she was eight. The sequel to Shadows Gray will be out momentarily so naturally, I feel like throwing up. It's like giving birth, except - </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nah, it's nothing like giving birth, never mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I am nervous. I hope you'll read it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll leave you with a quote from the G-ster:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Said to his father: "I love you more than Christmas and tacos."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cora pipes up: "What about me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">G, thinking hard: "I love you more than ... geckos."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(He only has a slight love for geckos, so no one knows if this is a compliment or an insult). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And looky, looky, what Santa bought me!! A camera!!</span><br />
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" Thank you, baby Jesus, for being born so that I can risk burning down an entire church once a year in your memory." - The prayer of Gianni. Kinda like the Prayer of Jabez, except not.<br />
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I love technology...but not as much as you, you see...No, I really love technology more.<br />
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What? Chocolate reindeer butts before 7 am? Why, don't mind if I do, old chap!<br />
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melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-26633920050801511412012-12-18T11:30:00.003-08:002012-12-18T11:30:45.930-08:00seasons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Winter in Southern Oregon:</div>
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Winter in Michigan:</div>
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Winter in Idaho:<br />
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Winter in Wyoming:<br />
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Actually, Easter in Wyoming.<br />
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<br />melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-63998337973144301762012-12-18T09:27:00.003-08:002012-12-18T09:27:51.260-08:00Chick Flicks: the Classics CollectionNow ALL of these are family friendly.<br />
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Unless you're a man, in which case, they are detrimental to your Man Card qualifications.<br />
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All the Anne of Green Gables from PBS. From the pigtails to Marilla to Diana to the Lady of Shalot to the raspberry cordial, this movie is perfect.<br />
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Oh, Gilbert Blythe...making hearts flutter since 1908...<br />
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P.S. Ignore the last one in the series, made years later. It's weird and not based on the real books. Although it probably has some fine moments, I was too confused about the odd plot to notice.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wya-S_3ZGtY/UNCjXJiPuAI/AAAAAAAABoQ/fE6kI3ho2VE/s1600/images+(7).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wya-S_3ZGtY/UNCjXJiPuAI/AAAAAAAABoQ/fE6kI3ho2VE/s320/images+(7).jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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The Colin Firth (what? was there anyone else in this movie? I didn't think so) miniseries, which is about 45 hours long and worth every bit of it, is the quintessential classic. It made Colin Firth...well, Colin Firth. I mean, Mr. Darcy. They are forever linked, let's put it that way.<br />
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The purists aren't as fond of this more recent version with Keira Knightley, but I found it perfectly luscious.<br />
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Of all the Fred and Ginger classics, this was always my favorite. You have no idea how many images of panty liners I had to wade through to find this photo for you, by the way.<br />
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Oh, Jimmy! He made many a fabulous chick flick, but this is my favorite. Hilarious cast and great writing (some days I pretend I'm the writer mom, other days I'm the batty ballerina sister).<br />
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As far as my boy, Cary, goes...well, it's a toss up between His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby. Both hilarious. I wuv him ever so much. And the only reason I'm not including Arsenic and Old Lace is because it deserves a blog of its very own.<br />
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And finally, The Thin Man movies:<br />
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Myrna Loy and William Powell were awesome. Their witty banter is something I hope for when I'm writing, and also what I base my marriage on. After love and fidelity and Cheez-its, naturally.<br />
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So, there you go! A Christmas list the girls in your life will thank you for. melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-75004264611826556402012-12-18T08:37:00.002-08:002012-12-18T09:38:37.557-08:00Favorite Chick Flicks<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anna is old enough these days that she can enjoy a good romantic comedy with me. Although not my favorite genre, a <i>good</i> romantic chick flick cannot be beat! They're few and far between - maybe one in forty that trickle through theaters - but here are my (and Anna's) favorites:</span><br />
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This movie has the best cast ever. Bonnie Hunt and James Belushi are hilarious, David and Minnie are just right, and the boys in O'Reilly's (Irish Italian restaurant) are so sweet and funny. The best scene (well, one of them) is this one:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WguLSVR1RZA/UMogCE-J4XI/AAAAAAAABlg/Bz9Tyyz33do/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WguLSVR1RZA/UMogCE-J4XI/AAAAAAAABlg/Bz9Tyyz33do/s320/images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> "I got sick on Swiss water once..." </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Other best quotes from this gem are:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Whatever you do, don't shave your legs." "What? Why?" "Because then you won't let it go too far!" "Megan, it's a first date!" "Well, I married a first date, missy, and you know how it is. You're out with a guy, you find him funny and attractive, and suddenly everything he says sounds brilliant. Hairy legs are your only link to reality." "I think you should needlepoint that on a pillow." "I just might! It kept me a virgin till...y'know...whenever."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"What do you do?" "I'm a vet." "Yeah...I didn't go to Nam..."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"I think you should put your shirt on, honey. You're going to ruin Gracie for all other men." </i></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CdsnQuQYaeE/UMoiuMQ9YzI/AAAAAAAABmA/VD85ZFt2eQE/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CdsnQuQYaeE/UMoiuMQ9YzI/AAAAAAAABmA/VD85ZFt2eQE/s1600/images+(2).jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This one I wouldn't let Anna watch yet, due to the swearing (though it is in a British accent, which is decidedly less vulgar, I think) and the suicide scene (which is heart wrenching, and I love Toni Collette). But those are some of the reasons I love it so much; it's not shallow. Which brings me to my favorite quotes:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"We thought you had hidden depths." "No, no! You've always had that wrong! I really am this shallow."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"I mean, he is such a SPECIAL boy! And he has a SPECIAL soul! And I've wounded it!" "Oh please shut up. You're wounding my soul."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"As for his mum, she appears to be clinically insane and wearing some kind of yeti costume..."</i></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bEuFh4ewce8/UMoke5dIHVI/AAAAAAAABmI/Ty_dxmhYIzk/s1600/images+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bEuFh4ewce8/UMoke5dIHVI/AAAAAAAABmI/Ty_dxmhYIzk/s1600/images+(3).jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had to include this one even though it's shelved in my brain as a holiday movie and not a chick flick, and never the twain shall meet (is that the right expression?) because it is romantic and it is hysterical. Best quotes (that my hubby and I quote all year round):</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Mistletoe...MISTLETOE!"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"My childhood was like the Shawshank Redemption except I didn't have some old, warm, black man to share my story with." </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>"Yeeeeeeeessssss." </i></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OsG-epDYpFY/UNCaCvbAAFI/AAAAAAAABmk/3LyjtP-I6z0/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OsG-epDYpFY/UNCaCvbAAFI/AAAAAAAABmk/3LyjtP-I6z0/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tl0yTKRYtok/UNCaC7tHExI/AAAAAAAABms/Oa0IGbE6iC8/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tl0yTKRYtok/UNCaC7tHExI/AAAAAAAABms/Oa0IGbE6iC8/s1600/images+(2).jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vrvkHj2RJL4/UNCaEfMf-AI/AAAAAAAABm0/mj5C2LivdG0/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vrvkHj2RJL4/UNCaEfMf-AI/AAAAAAAABm0/mj5C2LivdG0/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We'll just call these the Steve Carell collection, shall we? The only one I'd let Anna watch is Dan in Real Life. Why?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why, <i>because I am the murder of love,</i> that's why!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And we'll call this next one, the John Cusack collection:</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VGvhZinnpyY/UNCbWTw7kMI/AAAAAAAABnU/4IXuzBCpOy0/s1600/images+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VGvhZinnpyY/UNCbWTw7kMI/AAAAAAAABnU/4IXuzBCpOy0/s1600/images+(3).jpg" /></a></div>
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Not child appropriate. But it's hard for hired gunmen to control their cursing.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1JlKJ2LHw-E/UNCbWgFOZZI/AAAAAAAABnc/3qLCZeKEdYw/s1600/images+(4).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1JlKJ2LHw-E/UNCbWgFOZZI/AAAAAAAABnc/3qLCZeKEdYw/s1600/images+(4).jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br />"You must chill...I have taken your keys..."</i></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtuUnXz_8AY/UNCp1bH_e2I/AAAAAAAABrE/qsH-W0l_YbM/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtuUnXz_8AY/UNCp1bH_e2I/AAAAAAAABrE/qsH-W0l_YbM/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
This Sandra Bullock gem (above)? Or this one (below)?<br />
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Both extremely funny and the source of many a quote at our house.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NfSJraC_fc8/UNCp1295E_I/AAAAAAAABrI/0_hTI6ZfqBQ/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NfSJraC_fc8/UNCp1295E_I/AAAAAAAABrI/0_hTI6ZfqBQ/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, that's it for now. I may have to make a Part II later. Also, a best of holiday flicks - but that could need its own blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What'd I miss?</span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-15818004165352885802012-12-10T15:12:00.001-08:002013-10-23T08:04:37.670-07:00On why I'm quitting homeschooling<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The past couple of years have been hard on our family; those of you who have known us longer than ten minutes know this. One constant for us has been our homeschooling, and for the most part, we've loved it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We've loved:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the freedom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the flexibility</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the choices</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the one-size-doesn't-fit-all way of life</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What we haven't loved:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the pressure</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the cabin fever</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the lack of opportunity to ever "miss" each other (haha!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the academics</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't feel like I necessarily need to shout to the rooftops the benefits of homeschooling; those stats are easy to find, and you can look up the tags labeled "homeschooling" here on my blog if you want my outlook. Nor do I need to give a lot of reasons for why we are done with it (for now), besides the fact that I'm tired and I need something to give (at the moment, I'm teaching 11 dance classes a week, and have writing deadlines). Suffice to say, we are all cheerful and happy and nervous and excited and anxious about our decision to put the girls in a Waldorf charter school. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Batman Jr. won't start kindergarten until next year, at which time we'll decide what to do with him. The biggest decision that led me to homeschooling in the first place was the time spent at home with Mom: that foundation that gave them the courage and the guts and the growth to become who they were going to be. <b>And who they are is pretty cool.</b> They are independent young ladies, full of passion and with a special kind of education not everyone has (from country life to city life, from sheltered kids to taking in seven inner city big brothers). They are more than halfway to who they're going to be as adults. Homeschooling gave them that security, and I won't take that from Gianni if he needs it just as much. However, it's easier to save the world and take on the bad guys if you occasionally get out of your underoos and leave your own living room, so school might be a good idea for him... So, I dunno. We'll re-evaluate in September 2013. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you've never looked into <a href="http://www.waldorfanswers.com/Waldorf.htm">Waldorf Education</a>, start! It's very interesting! I looked into it years and years ago and still have the book I saved up my pennies for as a young wife and mommy. I have always tried to incorporate their philosophy into our homeschool. They're very nature focused, which will be nice for my goonies, who spend entirely too much time "plugged" in to various electronics. They are firm believers in "better late than early," when it comes to academics, which I completely agree with. Forcing children to read before they're ready is detrimental. In Scandinavia, they don't begin school until age 8, and guess what? Much higher test scores. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All that being said, yes, I will still be writing and endorsing and applauding homeschooling! After all, I write about, endorse and applaud home births too, but I sure as heck ain't gonna have any anytime soon! My place with Home Educating Family Magazine is still solid, and I have an article in Homeschooling Today coming out this winter as well. There are plenty of stories and advice I can pull from from our 12 years of homeschooling. And really, education has always started at home, whether your kids are by your side 24/7 or not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The girls are mostly excited to own backpacks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yuuuup. As you can see, they haven't gotten out much...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Soon, I expect the guilt to start. The guilt that I've quit. That I'm not SuperMom, like all the other SuperMoms out there. That something was too hard for me. Ironically, the reason my own mother pulled me OUT of public school all those years ago (like, 15 - HA!) was due to my perfectionism tendencies. And now, lo and behold, I am putting my children IN public school to help curb my perfectionism tendencies! How ironic is that? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's like a black fly in my chardonnay. Yes, sir. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyhow, that's our news for the winter. If they hate it and I hate it, I will soon be writing a post entitled On Why I'm Quitting Charter School. So stay tuned, dear readers, and in the meantime, give me some lovin'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-90705239707778370542012-12-02T09:07:00.003-08:002012-12-02T09:11:39.113-08:00The day I saved a ballerina's lifeIt happened so quickly.<br />
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Seven tiny ballerinas, lined up at the barre, ready to do their tondues. Pink, fluffy tutus, shiny buns, impossibly small leotards, on three year old bodies.<br />
<br />
"Miss Melyssa?" I hear. Actually, she probably said "Miss Melyse?" Because my boss's name is Elyse and they tend to combine us. Like Brangelina.<br />
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"Yes, Gwen, do you need to go potty?" I stop, mid tondue.<br />
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"LOOK!" She points at her pink tights.<br />
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My eagle eyes see:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-quGEWfX4Rn8/ULuJlA7vKRI/AAAAAAAABk4/ujIZDC8AGo0/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-quGEWfX4Rn8/ULuJlA7vKRI/AAAAAAAABk4/ujIZDC8AGo0/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></div>
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But what I REALLY see and I'm sure she does too, is:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vm-rYFNI4KI/ULuJfwydsUI/AAAAAAAABkw/RZOEEnCJYVM/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vm-rYFNI4KI/ULuJfwydsUI/AAAAAAAABkw/RZOEEnCJYVM/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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Not fearing a bit for my safety, my adrenaline kicked in.<br />
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Me:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_5UFUBW57c/ULuJzi3AnbI/AAAAAAAABlA/XWsF7-AJGN8/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R_5UFUBW57c/ULuJzi3AnbI/AAAAAAAABlA/XWsF7-AJGN8/s1600/images+(2).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Armor is very slimming.<br />
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</tbody></table>
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<br />
With the strength of ten men, plus two, I remove the hideous monster from her leg and smash it to smithereens with my ballet shoe. It is easily larger than my shoe, and the pink is covered in spider goo and blood and gore. *<br />
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"You killed my spider!" Her eyes are big as saucers and her voice quavers.<br />
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The rest of the ballerinas look at me as if I just put five rounds of bullets in Minnie Mouse or throttled the life out of Mrs Claus.<br />
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Evidently, they make ballerinas tougher these days.<br />
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I apologized for saving their lives and we went back to tondues.<br />
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*not really<br />
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P.S. You have no idea what I went through googling images of spiders for you. Really. I deserve some major chocolate, decadent coffee drinks, blogging awards, or copious amounts of Merlot for what I do for you three readers.melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-763454852237033792012-11-26T13:25:00.003-08:002012-12-02T09:12:33.197-08:00FeetThings we know about my feet:<br />
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1. They are hobbit feet. Short, and chubby, and somewhat square.<br />
<br />
2. Also know as Flintstone feet.<br />
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3. Also known as Maple Bar feet.<br />
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4. They used to be able to do things like this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-InCv6-UcMxM/ULPca9FSXSI/AAAAAAAABkM/vCT1mRzQqRs/s1600/rb-ballerina-en-pointe-1-0809-mdn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-InCv6-UcMxM/ULPca9FSXSI/AAAAAAAABkM/vCT1mRzQqRs/s1600/rb-ballerina-en-pointe-1-0809-mdn.jpg" /></a></div>
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But then they got old and extra Maple-y, and now they look like this:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V_7EGjMrGvg/ULPdaEW1u1I/AAAAAAAABkU/BAdm8U_xqjM/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V_7EGjMrGvg/ULPdaEW1u1I/AAAAAAAABkU/BAdm8U_xqjM/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not me. Einstein. But we share a love of fuzzy footwear.<br />
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</tbody></table>
Anyway, the girls were complaining all last week that the Mommobile smelled. Specifically, they whined, it smelled like rotten yogurt.<br />
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Seeing as how they're the ones who eat in the Mommobile, not the Mom for which it was named, I gave them the task of cleaning it out. There's probably something nasty that you gremlins forgot you left back there somewhere, said I.</div>
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Let it be known, I could not smell the odoriferous culprit myself.</div>
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Turns out it was coming from the front seat, not the back, and they traced it to my dance bag - specifically, my ballet shoes. Which I don't think smell at all. I mean, they're no petunias, but come on. Rotten yogurt? I'm insulted. Frodo. I really am. <br />
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<br /></div>
melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-74679668935415072222012-11-24T09:02:00.001-08:002012-11-24T09:02:09.553-08:00the post I can't seem to title appropriately so we'll just call it business socksSo, I realized, while not shampoo-ing my hair this morning, that it's been a while since I've faithfully blogged about anything. This is due to watching the ticker on my Amazon page like a hawk. It may not take long to write a book, by George, but breathlessly and desperately watching for sales, stars, reviews, and comments is a FREAKIN' TIME COMMITMENT, PEOPLE. Don't underestimate it. I just have to check, says I, 23498.4 times per day, as I struggle, weak limbed, over to the smoking, quivering, much abused, laptop. It'll only take a second, says I, as I stuff pie in my mouth and re-tie the robe I put on three days ago (after shampoo-ing, I gave up on society approved clothing. At least until my patent on disposable onesies for adults comes through).<br />
<br />
So, anyway, things have been a little busy for me, what with all that...busyness.<br />
<br />
I almost wrote business. Which makes me think of business socks, which would go really well with disposable onesies.<br />
<br />
Anyhoo. Not a lot going on here. Made Thanksgiving. Ate Thanksgiving. Will continue to eat Thanksgiving until the last piece of congealed stuffing is gone and I can finally wash all those plates and bowls (holy smokes, my cupboards are empty).<br />
<br />
All I can think to say is, I'm pretty sure I have a brain tumor or something. My ears always hurt when I get up, which can only mean one of several things: they get folded over and smooshed during the night (a likely possibility), I'm grinding my teeth again (a likely possibility), or I have a brain tumor (the most likely possibility). I don't know why the tumor would hurt my ears, but I figure it probably rolls around in there like a tumbleweed and occasionally gets caught in my ear canal. I keep forgetting to google my symptoms, like any self respecting play at home doctor would do; probably because I'm busy blogging for you. Oh yeah, and watching my Amazon stats. Be right back.<br />
<br />
K. What was I talking about?<br />
<br />
Right. Medical symptoms. So, anyway, if you don't hear from me, I'm either 1. tending to my patent duties, 2. tending to my pie, 3. tending to my brain tumor, 4. not washing my hair or putting on acceptable clothing. KnowwhatImean? You know you do.<br />
<br />
So, until then, my dears, enjoy your stuffing and your tumor free ears.melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-60139078571795929562012-11-09T12:20:00.000-08:002012-11-09T12:21:29.432-08:00It's Not Easy Being GreenFirst published on Home Educating Family. Republished with permission by the team, and the author (that's me).<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Women have
something in them that fools them into thinking they are Super Woman. Well, for
me it’s Wonder Woman (I even had the Underoos to prove it. And the aluminum
foil bracelets. And the crown). So, when I get sick, I live in total denial for
several days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’m fine,”
I croak, crankily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I gargle
garlic juice and take hot showers. I drink huge amounts of tea and put my hair
up so it doesn’t stick to the back of my clammy neck. I google my symptoms and
realize I’m dying of a flesh eating disease. Eventually, the sore throat begins
to get worse. Where a scratchiness was a moment ago, a full on forest fire the
likes of which California has never seen, is breaking out now. My voice begins
to go, which small totally children take advantage of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What’d you
say, Mommy?” I hear as they run off to wreak havoc and take over the free
world, “We didn’t hear you! Did you say DO put the baby on a leash and DO dress
up the neighbor’s cat? OKAY!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My insides
turn to sandbags. Is it my kidneys and liver and spleen shutting down, or am I
just exhausted? Do I even need my spleen? What’s with the sudden bouts of
narcolepsy? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then the
coughing begins, and I sound like a bull frog with a smoking problem. I hack up
my spleen and learn having it on the inside of me was optional after all. Like
my tonsils, wisdom teeth, and appendix. Which all seem to be dripping out my
nasal cavity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Still, I do
not admit to being sick! By golly, I may be a little under the weather. But I
can beat this. For crying out loud, I fly an invisible plane and karate chop
Nazis for a living, I think I can beat a wee little head cold and still teach
phonics! Pshaw!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Speaking of
air planes and Nazis, I start to see strange things. Am I hallucinating due to
a fever, or are there really purple life size Gummy bears in my office? Do I
embrace them or eat them? Why is it so hot in here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Still, I do
not admit to any illness. On the sly, I may be sipping Nyquil like it’s a juice
box, but that’s a total coincidence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sick!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As if to
punish me for ignoring them, the Porcelain Throne Gods demand a sacrifice and a
thorough worshipping at their alter. Knees knocking together, I answer their
call. They are angry with me and I have to prove my loyalty to them by sticking
around for oh, about three days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I haven’t
combed my hair or put on make-up in a week. I keep my bangs slicked back with
homemade, organic hair gel (boogers and spit). My nose looks like I was stung
by a mass of killer hornets with pink Kool-Aid in their stingers. I’ve gone
through so many rolls of toilet paper for blowing my sore snozz that I’ve had
to ration the remainder in the kid’s bathroom: three squares for #1, five for
#2. We can’t have company over because they might have to use the bathroom.
Also, since I have The Plague (or is it The Black Lung?) they wouldn’t want to
come in anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now comes
the point where I admit I might be sick. After a full week of hearing people in
my life tell me to go to the doctor, I am finally at that space. That space
where I can admit I need help. Help of the narcotic variety, that is. A little
Codeine? Don’t mind if I do. A Tylenol cocktail? Why, yes, please. Bubble gum
flavored antibiotics? Come to mama.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course,
deciding to see a doctor and actually seeing a doctor are too entirely
different scenarios. In the scenario in my mind, I call, they answer, I go in,
they are glad to see me, I get medicine, they say goodbye, I come home. What
really happens:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They don’t
answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have some
lovely flute music to occupy myself while I am on hold for thirteen years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christmas
comes and goes. My baby graduates from college.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Eventually,
they come back on the line and what do you know? I’m still sick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They can
squeeze me in in three days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Three days?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ll be dead
in three days, I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay, come
in now, they agree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I go in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They are
busy. Small children sneeze on me, and one licks me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I read
Redbooks from 1989. Crickets chirp. Tumbleweeds tumble by. I’ve heard every
song Michael Bolton ever sang on the soft rock station. Twice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They call me
back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I explain my
symptoms. Well, not really. My voice is gone at this point, so I charade my
symptoms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Flailing
wildy, I make gestures and do a little improv interpretive dancing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You don’t
feel well? The doctor asks, as I back flip over the table and mime Scarlet
Fever. I land to a 9.5 from the Romanian judge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I nod, in
relief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Would you
like something for that? The doctor asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I embrace
him fondly and get snot on his coat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He writes me
prescriptions. I mime a marriage proposal but he declines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The thought
of driving to the pharmacy to pick them up makes me cry, but I am strong! I am
Wonder Woman! I am invincible! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Before I
brave the horrors of the pharmacy, I need a nap. And some tea. Maybe a
sandwich. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Afterwards,
I feel a little better. I skip the prescriptions, toss what’s left of the
Nyquil, undress the neighbor’s cat, and comb my hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I hear my
husband sniffle gently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Horror
crosses his face. “I’m so totally sick! No one’s ever been so sick! I’m calling
in sick! Honey, I’m sick, would you make me some soup while I go immediately to
the doctor? I’m sick!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ah, my hero.
My manly man. He of the bulging biceps and raging testosterone. My G.I. Joe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t get
too close,” he gasps, as I rub his chest with Vapor Rub. “I wouldn’t want you
to catch this…don’t want you getting sick…I can take it though…is my soup
ready? My soup, cuz I’m sick? Man, I’m so sick,” snarf. Blurp. Snoffle. “I’m so
glad you didn’t catch this, honey. Aren’t you glad you didn’t get sick?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t
worry,” says I. “I never get sick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-28341656410065564832012-11-01T13:42:00.000-07:002012-11-01T13:43:18.808-07:00The Post Where I Talk About My Augmentation Yep. You read it right. I've been thinking about it for a long while, and it has finally come to this. I never thought I'd be one of those gals who couldn't get confident about the way the good Lord made her. I've heard things like, <i>I just want to enhance what I have,</i> or <i>Just a smidge bigger: nothing too noticeable or ridiculous, </i>and I thought to myself, <i>sure, sure, we all know you're just making excuses for your poor self body image.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
But, honestly, now I get it. I really do. If this is what it takes to:<br />
<br />
1. Make my shirts fit better<br />
<br />
2. Make me feel more like a woman<br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
3. Get rid of the excess fabric in my dresses<br />
<br />
Then, yes! Why not?<br />
<br />
My husband is behind me. My sister and mother are behind me, because they too, suffer bad DNA and genes in this department. We may go in as a trio actually. Get a punch card or something.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure about the whole silicone thing, but oh well. It'll be worth it when my purse fits snugly, the way it's meant to.<br />
<br />
Now all I have to do is find a doctor to do the procedure.<br />
Turns out there's not a lot of call for shoulder implants. Who knew?<br />
<br />
What? What'd you think I was talking about?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xyZ-SEKWXZA/UJLebPwmvtI/AAAAAAAABi4/q6h19QV05dg/s1600/80s-Shoulder-Pads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xyZ-SEKWXZA/UJLebPwmvtI/AAAAAAAABi4/q6h19QV05dg/s320/80s-Shoulder-Pads.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, if only I had been an adult in the '80s. Perhaps shoulder pads will come back.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-10799308963454871162012-10-30T13:09:00.000-07:002012-10-30T13:09:09.925-07:00Gloria in a nudist colonySo, I don't wanna do laundry anymore. It never ends, and that's depressing. I mean, I like the dumping in the washer part just fine, and the soap part, but then I'm way over it and I just want to sit around and bemoan Lady Mary and Matthew for a while. Maybe Pinterest something. I don't wanna sort underpants.<br />
<br />
So, I thought we could join a nudist colony. It seems the only logical thing to do, and also very green, which is very hipster of me considering I don't even recycle. But I care deeply about the planet, goshdarnit!<br />
<br />
But, the thing is, I don't want to join a Fit nudist colony, it'd have to be Frumpy nudist colony. Maybe a nudist colony/fat camp? Do they have those? If not, they should. It'd be motivating for the members, although it'd backfire on me. They'd all be out doing deep knee bends and squats and I'd be eating cheese. Pretty soon, it'd be a Fat Camp for one and that's hardly a camp, people.<br />
<br />
On the other hand I don't know what Gloria, my muffin top, would do if I gave her room to breathe, and frankly, the idea is a little terrifying. I can keep her under control with some flat tab Yoga pants, or some jeans in a size that some mature adults would call, too small, or some high waist-ed granny panties. If I gave her room to, you know, maneuver, she might spread or something, like Jabba the Hut. She could ooze into things, like small children and puppies, and also, she hasn't quite forgiven me for the<a href="http://thedazeofus.blogspot.com/2011/10/its-name-of-musical.html"> Waxing Incident of Which I Do Not Speak</a> (just write about), and she may get revenge yet.<br />
<br />
Also, this would be a family affair and Gianni especially, should not be encouraged to flaunt his birthday suit. He already speaks of body parts with disturbing nonchalance, usually at the most inopportune times. Like when conversing with pastors ("did you know weenies can grow?!") or swinging at the park (while shouting, "underdogs make my weenie tickle!")<br />
<br />
My other idea, if the whole nudist colony doesn't pan out (or if they reject our application for membership), is disposable clothing. I came up with this idea when I had babies and they were constantly pooping out their onesies and making yellow stains all over creation. Pop-up onesies that come in a tissue box!<br />
<br />
How do I get on Shark Tank?<br />
<br />
Another application? Really? Forget it.<br />
<br />
Or I could just finish the laundry and threaten to cut the next person who casually flips their socks into my empty hamper. I am always harping on everyone about how <i>you never need to wash jeans.</i> Okay, not NEVER never, but MOSTLY never. I can go weeks without washing my jeans, but I confess it's not just because I fret about the planet, it's because I hate that dance you have to do to get back inside them after washing.<br />
You know the one:<br />
<br />
<i>shimmy, shimmy, shake, pour, groan, kick, stretch, gasp, cry, ooze, shimmy, nap, suffocate, whimper, pep talk Gloria. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
This is why homeschool moms wear denim jumpers. No, not because they're fashion challenged, but because they don't the time for such nonsense; they're too busy <strike>blogging</strike> homeschooling. Also, they're too busy writing letters to the Homeschool Association about rejecting my membership. I think they feel threatened by Gloria or something.melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-36674736026612456372012-10-23T07:33:00.002-07:002012-10-23T07:34:10.000-07:00Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H2B8KvBC1g8/UIalBc3FckI/AAAAAAAABgM/hdtGMrpPa_A/s1600/038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H2B8KvBC1g8/UIalBc3FckI/AAAAAAAABgM/hdtGMrpPa_A/s400/038.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy 5th birthday, little man. You're my favorite sidekick, my best cuddler, my personal food critic, my defender, my stunt man.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I say this as though he reads my blog. I'd explain my reasonings, but I have to go put Happy Birthday, Gianni, on my Facebook wall, as though he has Facebook. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will leave you with funny pictures. Cuz he's a funny boy. And we have had no weird doctor visits this whole year! I mean, we've had normal ones, but no embedded Q-tips in body parts, no allergic reactions, no flesh eating bacterias, no stitches! I'd say 2012 was a good year for the G-Man. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LjXjxcRSMPI/UIamwU0Ba2I/AAAAAAAABgU/p6HK5B9mgmE/s1600/img_0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LjXjxcRSMPI/UIamwU0Ba2I/AAAAAAAABgU/p6HK5B9mgmE/s320/img_0075.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aw! He's so much cuter than a bowling ball! That 24 hr labor was worth it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9o44IkebLgA/UIam-jaop9I/AAAAAAAABgc/FsT6QHIW_5g/s1600/img_0184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9o44IkebLgA/UIam-jaop9I/AAAAAAAABgc/FsT6QHIW_5g/s320/img_0184.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm sorry, what? My parents are who?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbb8MfClOmQ/UIaoBVlXkxI/AAAAAAAABgk/UP1lgY3MU-A/s1600/IMG_0668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbb8MfClOmQ/UIaoBVlXkxI/AAAAAAAABgk/UP1lgY3MU-A/s320/IMG_0668.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Totally found it like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xq2OdKzngXw/UIaoCm6qhfI/AAAAAAAABgs/UG7INUak7XI/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xq2OdKzngXw/UIaoCm6qhfI/AAAAAAAABgs/UG7INUak7XI/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only room for one cute kid. Take her back to Walmart, mom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nIf3S36fMqo/UIaoEIuUBWI/AAAAAAAABg0/9nVwqevGLYQ/s1600/IMG_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nIf3S36fMqo/UIaoEIuUBWI/AAAAAAAABg0/9nVwqevGLYQ/s320/IMG_0707.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again! Get lost, sister!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iir83qZsizM/UIaoFrI6aMI/AAAAAAAABg8/Bj220iOFKD0/s1600/IMG_0739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iir83qZsizM/UIaoFrI6aMI/AAAAAAAABg8/Bj220iOFKD0/s320/IMG_0739.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bringing sexy back. Look at those abs!</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t7zUnXLRtyI/UIaoINMihBI/AAAAAAAABhE/Ill97rY-saM/s1600/img_0201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t7zUnXLRtyI/UIaoINMihBI/AAAAAAAABhE/Ill97rY-saM/s320/img_0201.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I said, milk! Bring me milk! And maybe some pretzels!</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KXCwBPzdx-g/UIaoJexTe7I/AAAAAAAABhQ/MZxDr_09r6o/s1600/img_0230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KXCwBPzdx-g/UIaoJexTe7I/AAAAAAAABhQ/MZxDr_09r6o/s320/img_0230.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do these glasses make me look fat?</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sZSfh6lWKS0/UIaobvU8fjI/AAAAAAAABhY/tz8KWIAPNIw/s1600/IMG_1132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sZSfh6lWKS0/UIaobvU8fjI/AAAAAAAABhY/tz8KWIAPNIw/s320/IMG_1132.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to escape this fully clothed society...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2motStmi8Zs/UIaoww9OM1I/AAAAAAAABho/pVD7KPq0qJc/s1600/IMG_2069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2motStmi8Zs/UIaoww9OM1I/AAAAAAAABho/pVD7KPq0qJc/s320/IMG_2069.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How YOU doin?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u7fr9xrC5oE/UIaox8LR_tI/AAAAAAAABhw/jqatKFxZT8g/s1600/IMG_2193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u7fr9xrC5oE/UIaox8LR_tI/AAAAAAAABhw/jqatKFxZT8g/s320/IMG_2193.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uh. Yeah. I have no witty caption for this one.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kK-7w-NyNbs/UIaozEd0WzI/AAAAAAAABh4/NCoQ_n-PuMA/s1600/IMG_2225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kK-7w-NyNbs/UIaozEd0WzI/AAAAAAAABh4/NCoQ_n-PuMA/s320/IMG_2225.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's handsome from every angle!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ7YgluuekA/UIao0U1DoeI/AAAAAAAABiA/SaM3LzyaOtw/s1600/IMG_2320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pJ7YgluuekA/UIao0U1DoeI/AAAAAAAABiA/SaM3LzyaOtw/s320/IMG_2320.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Again with the nudity. I apologize.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QSvWLlNGoC0/UIapRmmYl3I/AAAAAAAABiM/Nk_1LRbYG6o/s1600/IMG_2458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QSvWLlNGoC0/UIapRmmYl3I/AAAAAAAABiM/Nk_1LRbYG6o/s320/IMG_2458.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I miss his curls.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3oyt0TH1kk/UIapSj9Z-CI/AAAAAAAABiU/tREyngIBg9E/s1600/IMG_2628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3oyt0TH1kk/UIapSj9Z-CI/AAAAAAAABiU/tREyngIBg9E/s320/IMG_2628.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rudddddde.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hp66BgB7QRo/UIapZ-fDL8I/AAAAAAAABic/JilnHkq5VMs/s1600/DSC00067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hp66BgB7QRo/UIapZ-fDL8I/AAAAAAAABic/JilnHkq5VMs/s320/DSC00067.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy birthday.</td></tr>
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melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-40617373559968491972012-10-21T20:50:00.000-07:002012-10-23T14:34:25.021-07:00Marshmallow Madness<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've gotten a little weird about marshmallows lately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think I need to open a shop or something. I'm coming up with all sorts of wild and crazy flavors. I didn't even know I liked marshmallows, not really. I mean, a S'mores now and then is tasty enough, but mostly I like the roasting part, and then I feed it to a ravenous <strike>wolf</strike> child. I remember making homemade ones once as a <strike>wolf</strike> child, and although they were good, they were super sticky and more like marshmallow fluff. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I'm going to share with you the basic recipe, because I love ya, and it's really a sort of sacrifice on my part, because now you'll know how easy they are and you won't be impressed with me any longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, a basic marshmallow recipe is more or less the same wherever you go on the web, and so please forgive me if I don't site the original source, because who the dickens knows who the original source is anymore? But to be totally fair, this particular recipe came from <a href="http://bakingbites.com/2004/12/homemade-marshmallows/">the bakers at Baking Bites.</a> So, stop by and say hello!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Also, I still don't own a camera (someday, some rich blog reader is gonna feel sorry for me and mail me one anonymously. I just know it.) so you'll have to use your imagination in parts, and bear with my google pictures. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, here goes, moppets:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Homemade Marshmallows</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;">.75-oz unflavored gelatin (3 envelopes of Knox gelatin)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">1/2 cup cold water<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />2 cups granulated sugar<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />2/3 cups light corn syrup<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />1/4 cup water<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />1/4 teaspoon salt<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />1 tablespoon vanilla extract</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Line 9 x 9-inch pan with plastic wrap and lightly oil it. Set aside.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />In the bowl of an electric mixer, sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water. Soak for about 10 minutes.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Meanwhile, combine sugar, corn syrup and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring the mixture to a rapid boil and boil hard for 1 minute.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Pour the boiling syrup into soaked gelatin and turn on the mixer, using the whisk attachment, to high speed. Add the salt and beat for 12 minutes. After 12 minutes, add in the vanilla extract beat to incorporate. Here's where you have fun adding in your wild mix-ins.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Scrape marshmallow into the prepared pan and spread evenly (Lightly greasing your hands and the spatula helps a lot here). Take another piece of lightly oiled plastic wrap and press lightly on top of the marshmallow, creating a seal. Let mixture sit for a few hours, or overnight, until cooled and firmly set.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />In a shallow dish, combine equal parts cornstarch and confectioners’ sugar. Remove marshmallow from pan and cut into equal pieces with scissors (the best tool for the job) or a chef’s knife. Dredge each piece of marshmallow in confectioners’ sugar mixture.<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Store in an airtight container.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4tAqYgrYzoc/UIS-2YT-_4I/AAAAAAAABfY/ow-5NLv3uM4/s1600/Homemade+Marshmallows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4tAqYgrYzoc/UIS-2YT-_4I/AAAAAAAABfY/ow-5NLv3uM4/s320/Homemade+Marshmallows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, a few notes on the original recipe: the mixture in your mixer is going to become very nearly, wet cement. HAVE YOUR GREASED SPATULA AND GREASED HANDS READY. I'm not kidding. The first time I did not, and well, I nearly glued myself to the counter, the whisk, the television, the computer, and the dog. My hair was glued to my cheek, my hand was glued to my nose, and I nearly burst a gut laughing at myself. So, be prepared. Don't say I didn't warn you. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mix-ins I have tried thus far:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: orange;">candied ginger</span><span style="color: #333333;"> (I snipped tiny pieces and laid them in the bottom of the dish, added in the marshmallow, and snipped some more on top. Pressed em in a bit and voila!) and powdered ginger. DELICIOUS! And sophisticated. I mean nothing says sophisticated like Ginger Marshmallows, am I right? You know I am.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Deig4lGufCU/UIS-9Vj9gMI/AAAAAAAABfg/GlbQluaRqII/s1600/candiedginger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Deig4lGufCU/UIS-9Vj9gMI/AAAAAAAABfg/GlbQluaRqII/s320/candiedginger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Peppermint. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Have a small </span><strike style="line-height: 22px;">wolf </strike><span style="line-height: 22px;">child crush some peppermint sticks or candy canes in a ziplock bag with a heavy pan or rolling pin. He will enjoy this immensely and you will have smooshed-to-smithereens peppermints. Stir in (and when I say stir, I use the term loosely. Remember you are working with wet cement). Add a swirl of red food coloring.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CNjfFXwbNUM/UIS_vmQfFGI/AAAAAAAABfo/ah42xyfOjdE/s1600/Peppermint_Patty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CNjfFXwbNUM/UIS_vmQfFGI/AAAAAAAABfo/ah42xyfOjdE/s320/Peppermint_Patty.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Peppermint Patty, not a peppermint stick. Don't crush her in a ziplock, please.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Snickerdoodle. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dump in a BUNCH of cinnamon and up the vanilla. I'm not kidding you - these are out of this world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y87IP7g6n-I/UITAZA036SI/AAAAAAAABfw/fxvi9IZMQpg/s1600/cinnamon_2j.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y87IP7g6n-I/UITAZA036SI/AAAAAAAABfw/fxvi9IZMQpg/s1600/cinnamon_2j.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Other flavors I'm itching to try:</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Lavender. </span>Add in some lavender and some purple food coloring? I don't typically like lavender in my food, but I think this would be nice.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #b45f06;">Salted caramel. </span>These are definitely next on my list.</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #38761d;">Browned butter and sage.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #660000;">Maple.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Rootbeer.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: red;">Mocha or coffee.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: purple;">Brown sugar.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: yellow;">Lemon (with zest! Mmmm. I love lemon zest!)</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: red;">Chai tea.</span></div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
Got some crazy flavors for me? Wanna be my partner in my marshmallow making business? </div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 1.3em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-37186072978505942002012-10-15T08:38:00.000-07:002012-10-15T09:37:05.376-07:00A Story in Text Speak<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My sister and I text a lot. It's imperative because we have ninety-six children between us, so if you do the math, you'll realize that if we want to actually have a conversation, with our vocal cords, we'll have to wait until summer of 2032. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If ever we die, and people try to recreate our last days using our text messages, no one would make sense of anything, and it would look like we were chubby, alcoholic, hungry, television addicts. Which, we may in fact, be, but there's more to us, darnit! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just nothing worth texting about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For instance, sometimes we'll get a flashback and be reminded of something in our shared childhood. Last night, it was Newsies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Remember Newsies?</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KM4Y6wZl3BA/UHwm_t7xe0I/AAAAAAAABeg/WUn_rBFRlUg/s1600/Eva-Hoid-of-em-newsies-5905596-800-600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KM4Y6wZl3BA/UHwm_t7xe0I/AAAAAAAABeg/WUn_rBFRlUg/s400/Eva-Hoid-of-em-newsies-5905596-800-600.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was watching it last night with Roo, having serious flashbacks to 1992 and my love affair with Christian Bale's hair, who wasn't anybody at the time (him or his hair). </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BSSaoYMGGlU/UHwnXfuz0eI/AAAAAAAABeo/mlgoyMosS7s/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BSSaoYMGGlU/UHwnXfuz0eI/AAAAAAAABeo/mlgoyMosS7s/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not kidding. I loved his hair. That floppy boy look. Did it for me every time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hat boy was a cutie patootie, too. So was the Brooklyn blonde boy, also with floppy hair.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Actually, this whole movie was a dream for a 14 year old homeschooled, nerd girl. The entire cast was dreamy boys, with dance moves, brooding eyes, and floppy hair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our text conversation went something like:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>I'm watching Newsies! Squeal!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>I'm the king of New York!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>Didja know the kid who was also in Doogie, who always plays the Brooklyn Italian kid in every movie of that decade, is actually Russian? The things you learn with imdb. (</i>Note: I can no longer watch any movie without looking up the cast on imdb)</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZPs_08H9rxA/UHwsmrZVSjI/AAAAAAAABfA/_rAgzkvzsYk/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZPs_08H9rxA/UHwsmrZVSjI/AAAAAAAABfA/_rAgzkvzsYk/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max Casella. Not Italian.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>I know, right??</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>Also, Christian Bale has been happily married to you for years! It's crazy the trivia you can learn.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>It's true! We're just so happy together!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>I could tell from the red carpet photos. Did I tell you this is back on Broadway?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>I'll pack immediately. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>Wait! Is Broadway a real street? So, I like, what, go to 4th and Broadway, or something?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>Yes, it's a street, dummy. I puked on it when I was preggers with Aly. I think it sees a lot of puke though, so I fit in.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>Wait again. Why is Bill Pullman's character suddenly better looking than Jack Kelly?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>Probably because you're not 14 anymore. You could be Christian Bale's mother's character by now.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>That was harsh. Also, I refuse to accept your math, homeschooler. Am so only 14. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her: <i>I'm the king of New York!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: <i>I love Bill Pullman. I've been happily married to him for years.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The End.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">P.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I could probably do a whole series based on text messages.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">P.P.S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My sister and I are kind of a fount of knowledge when it comes to movie trivia. We're really our own special kind of imdb. Feel free to text us at any time with your movie and television emergencies. We may answer with things like, <i>I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I? </i>or <i>Bless your beautiful hide! </i>or <i>Come out to the coast...we'll have a few laughs!</i> but if you're a true fan of quotes, this won't bother you in the slightest.</span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-53436158168874533882012-10-08T10:39:00.001-07:002012-10-08T10:40:36.784-07:00Grandpa's Least Favorite SongIn the spirit of Halloween, I bring you the song that made my sweet Grandpa go berserk. Thus, we sang it as much as possible.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Do Ever Wonder?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Do you ever wonder when the hearse goes by</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>That you may be the next to die?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>They wrap you in a big, white sheet</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And then they bury you 6 feet deep.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>All goes well for the first few weeks</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>But then the coffin begins to leak.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The worms crawl in</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The worms crawl out</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>The ants play Pinochle on your snout.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>They eat the jam between your toes</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>And that's the way the story goes!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy October, ghouls and boys! Teach this old song to your kiddos - they'll totally thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And since my Grandpa is probably scowling at me from above (I just realized this song may be the reason he asked to be cremated) here are a couple more. These ones he actually taught me, and they aren't disgusting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After The Ball</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After the ball was over</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(insert name here) took out her glass eye...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Put her false teeth in fresh water...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Stopped up her bottle of dye.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Stood her peg leg in the corner...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Hung her false wig on the wall.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Then all that was left went to dreamland...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>After the ball.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>******************</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Catalinamatalinahoopenstinerwaltintimer</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Catalinamatalinahoopenstinerwaltintimer</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Hogenbogenlogen </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Was her name!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>She had ten hairs on the top of her head</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>5 were alive, and 5 were dead!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Catalinamatalinahoopenstingerwaltintimer</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Hogenbogenlogen</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Was her name!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>She had two teeth in the front of her mouth</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>1 pointed north and the other pointed south!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(Chorus. Please don't make me type it all again. See above).</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>She had two eyes on the front of her head</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>1 was glass and the other was lead!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(Chorus)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>She had two ears on the side of her head</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>1 was yeller and the other was dead!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(Chorus)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>She slept in the kitchen</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>With her feet in the hall</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>That's because she's nine feet tall!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>(chorus)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What are your favorite kid songs and who taught them to you? Do you know these classics, or have a different version?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-86451666567063462082012-10-02T18:27:00.002-07:002012-10-02T18:27:49.124-07:00curly girlA year or so back, you'll remember, I did the No 'Poo thing. I made it about 6 weeks, then I succumbed to the temptations of the hair aisle at Rite-Aid once again, and went on a binge of sweet smelling shampoos. I seriously fell off the wagon, hard. I was hiding Cucumber and Melon Smoothing Shampoos in the back of the toilet, and Gardenia Frou-Frou Delight Conditioner under the bed. Everyone pretended not to notice how jumpy I was, and chalked my shaky hands and twitchy eyes up to withdrawal symptoms.<br />
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Anyway, my pal, Tawni, is trying the Curly Girl method with her hair, so I said I'd jump on the band wagon with her, because after all, what are friends for, if not for jumping onto beauty band wagons? But because I have absolutely no will power at all, and change my mind frequently, and will be tortured by visions of flat ironed locks even in my sleep, I am writing this down so you all can keep us accountable.<br />
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Also, she doesn't blog.<br />
And I don't have a camera.<br />
So, if you were hoping for before and after glamour shots, you'll have to visit us both in person. It'd be cool, wouldn't it, to document, but hey, here are basic, sort of Before Shots:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Og1hrf6ppGo/UGuQBzPYRLI/AAAAAAAABdg/zMCpKQI3edI/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Og1hrf6ppGo/UGuQBzPYRLI/AAAAAAAABdg/zMCpKQI3edI/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eu9hYhtdxTk/UGuQClGTZrI/AAAAAAAABdo/h43Gd6llOPU/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eu9hYhtdxTk/UGuQClGTZrI/AAAAAAAABdo/h43Gd6llOPU/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Tawni</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As you can see, we are prone to frizz, and Raman noodle type curls.<br />
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Both of us have very similar hair, and both of us experienced weirdness of the follicle kind after giving birth. She just had a wee babe, a daughter I like to call Melyssa, but they don't. So, post partum, her hair weirdness is really kicking in. I just had a wee babe <strike>recently sorta</strike> 5 years ago, but I'm still adjusting to my particular weirdness.<br />
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As are all of you.<br />
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I blame celebrities, by the way, for why us curly haired girls hate our hair. We have ironed the heck out of it in our misguided attempts to look like Gwyneth Paltrow, and instead we end up with huge biceps from the blow dryer, and frizzed out, dried out, haystacks for hair. Sometimes I touch my hair and remember we're out of Shredded Wheat.<br />
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So, basically the Curly Girl Method is something along the lines of this:<br />
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1. DON'T shampoo. Use conditioner instead (yep, even on your scalp). If you get too greasy after a while, you can wash with baking soda, but from everything I've read, you'll be surprised.<br />
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2. Use lots of conditioner. Of course, botanical, all natural, no sulfate is best. Here's what I got, because it said No Sulfates and No Silicones right on the bottle, and also because it was under $4 for a giant bottle:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lwn757U__6k/UGuQ6KynGAI/AAAAAAAABd0/xCfeZfDutvo/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lwn757U__6k/UGuQ6KynGAI/AAAAAAAABd0/xCfeZfDutvo/s400/images.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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3. Use No Silicone gel. Or get wild and crazy like Tawni, and don't use any products at all. I'm not ready to be so wild and crazy yet. So, I bought this:</div>
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As far as styling goes, I guess you do what floats your boat. Blow dry, or don't, just try not to touch your curls as much as possible. This is key. Don't EVER brush curly hair, people. All of us with curly hair already knows this basic fact, but just in case... Comb through gently when hair is super wet, <i>and that's it.</i><br />
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Well, we'll see. In just a few weeks, I expect our After shots to look a little something like these<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sY8IQE1j_QU/UGuSPKQ2oQI/AAAAAAAABeA/KstpMLSrUmI/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sY8IQE1j_QU/UGuSPKQ2oQI/AAAAAAAABeA/KstpMLSrUmI/s1600/images+(2).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ut6VuvMLldU/UGuSPu42JII/AAAAAAAABeE/jhjnj5cdjGU/s1600/images+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ut6VuvMLldU/UGuSPu42JII/AAAAAAAABeE/jhjnj5cdjGU/s1600/images+(3).jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Tawni<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">My hubby should be thrilled because every time I straighten my hair, he sighs and says, <i>you just ruined a perfectly good hairstyle. </i><br />My students will not be thrilled, because every time I leave my hair curly, they squint up at me and say, <i>what happened to your hair? Did you forget to brush it today?</i><br /><br />Also, I'm not super thrilled with curly hair the length my hair happens to be at the moment, and will be for at least a year beyond now, because my hair grows at the Speed of Snail. It's not short, but it's not long, so basically what I get, if I'm not super careful and if I don't flat iron (like I want to already...awk! help! I'm falling off the wagon again! I wanna be Gwyneth!) it can look like a fuzzy pyramid.<br /><br />Well, I'm off now. Off to NOT shampoo and NOT flat iron. For at least a couple weeks. Then I fully expect to give up and give in to the desire to run my fingers through my hair again, instead of getting them lodged halfway in a mass of tangles.<br /><br />Who's with me, girls? (We all know your hair ain't that straight naturally). <br />Join us? (I'll even let you be Catherine Zeta Jones on my blog).<br /><br /></span></td></tr>
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<br />melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-74602095022176455202012-09-26T09:18:00.001-07:002012-09-26T09:22:04.883-07:00Why Walmart is the Devil's Lair<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, it's not their shady practices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The way they take over the world, one yellow smiley face at a time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's not their greeters, or their lack of greeters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's not even their clientele. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They are the MOST expensive store in the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Worse than Macy's!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Worse than Dillard's!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Worse than Whole Foods!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lemme give you a rundown:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oranges: $50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Face wash: $50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Loaf of bread: $50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gum: $50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Swing set: $50</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's right, <i>everything in Walmart is $50.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is the only explanation for why I can drop by for a lemon and three bobby pins and spend $50. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I hate Walmart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Oh, while I'm here I'll just pick up some paper towels.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Well, we'll run out of trash bags eventually. Might as well grab four boxes.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It's not like we'll ever stop using toilet paper; guess I'll grab some.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Oh, look! shoes!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And what do we have? A fifty dollar lemon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I won't go back! You can't make me! I don't care how badly I need dog food, scotch tape, and bread crumbs! I will go to Dog Food R Us, the Scotch Tape Factory, and Bread Crumbs Unlimited! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who's with me?! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411124129075353401.post-42524408307622369272012-09-21T22:24:00.001-07:002012-09-21T22:24:50.392-07:00The Great Pumpkin Holy grownin' kids, Batman, I just realized that those photos on my sidebar of those three adorable gremlins ARE A YEAR OLD!<br />
<br />
Here lies my children's childhood.<br />
R.I.P.<br />
<br />
Why don't you just grow up and run away and leave me to become the crazy cat lady, who pushes baby dolls around in a stroller, why don't you, children of mine?<br />
<br />
Holy cow.<br />
They're getting older.<br />
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Somebody make it stop!<br />
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Also, somebody make Genesis return from Ireland - the land of death and pestilence and horror and lack of Melyssas - so she can carve punkins and take photos, like last year and every last year for the past 12 years.<br />
<br />
In the Great Pumpkin's Name,<br />
Amen.melyssahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01984914375593665050noreply@blogger.com3