My first column for Home Educating Family Magazine came out this month and here's the link if you want to see what it looks like: here.
This is the link for the correct issue. You can peek inside and see me in the table of contents.
Eeek! I'm in a table of contents!
I need to get out more, yes, I realize this.
You can sign up for a free trial digital subscription and actually read the whole magazine if you like (it's good for 7 days.)
Or you can subscribe and see my future pieces as well. This supports their magazine, and also supports their hiring of me, and therefore supports my cute lil' family in a way. So....thanks!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I don't get out much
So yesterday I was at the pool with my sweet trolls. I was reading (of course...not like I go there to swim if I can help it) and the only other people there was a dad with a daughter. He was teaching her to swim. I kept getting distracted by him practically shouting,
'Hi!'
at me. At which point, I'd look up politely and smile or wave, but he would hardly ever be looking my way, which I found odd.
Was he trying to get my attention? Flirt? What was up with this guy?
Finally after the fourth time or so, I started really eavesdropping on him.
Turns out he wasn't speaking English.
Maybe Russian.
German.
Not English.
And when I thought he was yelling greetings at me and I so politely and dorkily responded, he was actually - I believe - saying something like "go!" to his daughter.
It was a tad bit embarrassing.
'Hi!'
at me. At which point, I'd look up politely and smile or wave, but he would hardly ever be looking my way, which I found odd.
Was he trying to get my attention? Flirt? What was up with this guy?
Finally after the fourth time or so, I started really eavesdropping on him.
Turns out he wasn't speaking English.
Maybe Russian.
German.
Not English.
And when I thought he was yelling greetings at me and I so politely and dorkily responded, he was actually - I believe - saying something like "go!" to his daughter.
It was a tad bit embarrassing.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Mooshy Mooshy Wuv Stuff
This weekend my brother, Bri-Bro, got married.
Thus, there was a wedding.
Music.
Smooching.
Champagne.
Cake.
A good time was had by all!
Everyone should get married, I highly recommend it.
And when you do, please invite me.
I do so love a good wedding.
Moose even let me style his hair.
This is my new sister, Rachelle! Oh, and some bum she married. HAHAHA!
This are two of the most ridiculously photogenic people I know: Roosky and Aly-Gator.
Only slightly more ridiculous, and slightly less photogenic, my other brother and my other daughter. Don't you wanna pinch their cheeks?
Brian is actually extremely short but he doesn't like people to notice so for the sake of the blog and the photos he knew I would publish, he stood on a stool so he looked taller.
Halfway through the reception, Moose got a call from Jack Bauer at CTU on his shoe phone(s) and he had to rush out and save mankind. But he was back in time for the dancing.
"Mother dear, I fear something's come between us..."
"That's just Cora, Brian."
"Ah, right."
Evidently, I left my eyeballs somewhere back at the table or something. I'm sure they'll turn up. Only to disappear at the next Kodak moment.
Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs Downum! I hope you have many, many happy years ahead of you.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Giveaway...but not for you...
I'm upping my chances of winning a giveaway by blogging about a certain website. I know, sounds so selfish, but bare with me! (Bear with me? Bare with me? Grizzly nudists anyone?)
It's for the good of my Pooky! He'll get the prize if I win!
What is it, you ask?
A shiny red bike?
A new teddy bear?
A college scholarship?
A pony?
No, even better! FERMENTED COD LIVER OIL!
I know, you want to cry with your admiration of me and my mothering. It really is a beautiful thing. Not everyone would force their little Pooky to swallow fish oil in the hopes that it will reverse his cavities. But I will! By gum, I will!
So, here's the link that allows me to get more entry into their contest:
http://www.foodrenegade.com/giveaway-fermented-cod-liver-oil/#comment-630891
And it seems like a pretty cool website! My pal, Amy, wouldn't steer me wrong; she's cool like that. Why, she even raises nude Grizzlies. Not everyone can say that. Actually, she's the only one who can say that. In the history of nude Grizzlies.
So, get over there and check it out! Just don't enter the contest. I don't want the competition.
It's for the good of my Pooky! He'll get the prize if I win!
What is it, you ask?
A shiny red bike?
A new teddy bear?
A college scholarship?
A pony?
No, even better! FERMENTED COD LIVER OIL!
I know, you want to cry with your admiration of me and my mothering. It really is a beautiful thing. Not everyone would force their little Pooky to swallow fish oil in the hopes that it will reverse his cavities. But I will! By gum, I will!
So, here's the link that allows me to get more entry into their contest:
http://www.foodrenegade.com/giveaway-fermented-cod-liver-oil/#comment-630891
And it seems like a pretty cool website! My pal, Amy, wouldn't steer me wrong; she's cool like that. Why, she even raises nude Grizzlies. Not everyone can say that. Actually, she's the only one who can say that. In the history of nude Grizzlies.
So, get over there and check it out! Just don't enter the contest. I don't want the competition.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A List
Time for one of those list type blog postings. A couple reasons for this:
1. I can't get my thoughts organized cohesively enough to make blackberries segue nicely into ballet, or homeschooling segue into bacon. Actually, there's a lot of bacon in homeschooling, so that might work.
2. I should be making a list of homeschool supplies instead of a list of nonsense. But I'm not. And it's getting harder to deny that school is starting soon. Stoopid back to school specials and sales and commercials. How am I supposed to bask in denial and procrastination if ad genius' keep throwing it in my face? Also, I want a Trapper Keeper. And Sharpies...lotsa Sharpies!
So here are my thoughts, happenings, and desires, posted in a lovely numbered format for you. Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.
1. Last night my smurfs (or is it smurves?) picked blackberries on the side of the road. Today, we make pie. It's another reason to love Oregon, the wild blackberries. They are delicious. Gianni eats them as fast as I can pick them (obviously he can't pick them himself, he's far too busy eating them). He has a strange fear of "pokies," something I believe his hypochondriac sister instilled in him, so it takes him approximately three weeks to approach a bush. We also weren't dressed for picking last night (we were supposed to be taking a bike ride but were ambushed by a strange and irresistible jonesin' for blackberries five minutes in) and so I was forced to carry him a bit. He was nice enough to lay his head on my shoulder and cheer me on by saying, 'you can do it, Mom! I'm not heavy! Just a few more miles to go! Yaaah, Mommy!'
2. My first column for Home Educating Family came out this month. I'd love to tell you how great it looks, but I sort of am not a subscriber. Yet. I will, I swear! But the Trapper Keeper comes first. Budgeting is everything. Anyway, if any of you readers subscribe would you tear out the article entitled Everything I Need To Know I Learned in Sunday School and mail it to me, please? Thanks. It was based on this original blog posting if you want to refresh your memory.
3. We have found a house we very much want to rent so I will let you know if the landlady accepts us. Thinking of delivering fresh blackberry pie to her... It's a super cute 1950s house (yes, very us) in a lovely neighborhood.
4. I entered my first writing contest, but alas, did not win. I didn't expect to, but it would have been a nice shot of motivation. Ah well. Still plugging along on the book: 25,000 words! That's a quarter of the way through! Yaah me!
5. We bought a second car from some of our closest friends, which is just another step in the Get Thee Back To Normalcy Project we've been working on since June 15th. Before you know it, we'll be living like YOU! Like EVERYONE ELSE! Joy, rapture, hallelujah, and pass the bacon! I'm going to dig myself a wonderful rut and never come out. You'll all wonder, where's that strange girl with the fifteen children and the pink carpet and the crazy lifestyle? and I'll be like, here I am, in the rut down here! Basking in normalcy and writing a book. That's me. I may even, I don't know, get a gym membership or something totally Americana like that. Or a Starbucks punchcard!!! Oh yeah. Totally getting one of those. And shop at The Gap!! Nah, I'm never gonna do that. I went on a date with my LuvahBoy last weekend and we went to see Crazy, Stupid Love (cuz when you've been married more than ten minutes the husband goes to see what the wife wants to see) and there's a scene where Ryan Gosling (who may or may not be married to me in The Movie in My Head) tells Steve Carrell he is better than The Gap. And then he makes fun of his Great Clips haircut, which made us laugh because we had literally just walked out of Great Clips not two hours before. With a coupon.
6. Nutella has become a food group 'round these parts. If that's wrong, Roo and Moose don't wanna be right.
7. According to my stats if you type in Fondant Preacher in a search engine, you will eventually be directed to my blog. I find this funny, odd, and weird, since I don't recall ever in my life having written a word about fondant. I've never used the stuff. Wanted to, but never have. I can't buy fondant when I need Sharpies and magazine subscriptions. Also, silverware, beds, garbage cans, towels, chairs, and all that other stuff we have need of and don't own, but would look great in our 1950s style rental house. Dishcloths, waste baskets, curtains, pillows, soap, spoons, bowls, water glasses. Good grief, I should be making lists of other things... Pots, pans, footstools, why did my font just change on me?
8. I don't actually have anything to say about bacon, sorry. Except that's it is excellent on potato and leek pizza.
9. When we went to the coast a few weeks ago, we all went zip lining. Great fun. Gianni had no fear, quite like he is in water. Segue into...: the little water rat taught himself to swim. He's only three! What the?? I don't know if I like it. Water scares me. Anyone who knows me, knows this. I think it goes back to when Cora disappeared during the Episode of Which We Do Not Speak. She was gone for an hour and a half at the age of four, lost in the mountains and I really thought if the kidnappers didn't have her, then I would find her face down in a stream somewhere. At least, that's my psychologist take on it. Maybe I've just seen Jaws too many times. Whatever. Anyway, the last thing Moose needs is more confidence in the water, so I'm not sure his doggy paddle is something to be happy about. If only the water was full of "pokies" he might exercise a little restraint. Anyway, I would put photos of the little man zip lining but it would make his Gramma toss her cookies, so I won't.
10. I don't have a #10 but you can't end a list on a 9. That's be weird.
1. I can't get my thoughts organized cohesively enough to make blackberries segue nicely into ballet, or homeschooling segue into bacon. Actually, there's a lot of bacon in homeschooling, so that might work.
2. I should be making a list of homeschool supplies instead of a list of nonsense. But I'm not. And it's getting harder to deny that school is starting soon. Stoopid back to school specials and sales and commercials. How am I supposed to bask in denial and procrastination if ad genius' keep throwing it in my face? Also, I want a Trapper Keeper. And Sharpies...lotsa Sharpies!
So here are my thoughts, happenings, and desires, posted in a lovely numbered format for you. Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.
1. Last night my smurfs (or is it smurves?) picked blackberries on the side of the road. Today, we make pie. It's another reason to love Oregon, the wild blackberries. They are delicious. Gianni eats them as fast as I can pick them (obviously he can't pick them himself, he's far too busy eating them). He has a strange fear of "pokies," something I believe his hypochondriac sister instilled in him, so it takes him approximately three weeks to approach a bush. We also weren't dressed for picking last night (we were supposed to be taking a bike ride but were ambushed by a strange and irresistible jonesin' for blackberries five minutes in) and so I was forced to carry him a bit. He was nice enough to lay his head on my shoulder and cheer me on by saying, 'you can do it, Mom! I'm not heavy! Just a few more miles to go! Yaaah, Mommy!'
2. My first column for Home Educating Family came out this month. I'd love to tell you how great it looks, but I sort of am not a subscriber. Yet. I will, I swear! But the Trapper Keeper comes first. Budgeting is everything. Anyway, if any of you readers subscribe would you tear out the article entitled Everything I Need To Know I Learned in Sunday School and mail it to me, please? Thanks. It was based on this original blog posting if you want to refresh your memory.
3. We have found a house we very much want to rent so I will let you know if the landlady accepts us. Thinking of delivering fresh blackberry pie to her... It's a super cute 1950s house (yes, very us) in a lovely neighborhood.
4. I entered my first writing contest, but alas, did not win. I didn't expect to, but it would have been a nice shot of motivation. Ah well. Still plugging along on the book: 25,000 words! That's a quarter of the way through! Yaah me!
5. We bought a second car from some of our closest friends, which is just another step in the Get Thee Back To Normalcy Project we've been working on since June 15th. Before you know it, we'll be living like YOU! Like EVERYONE ELSE! Joy, rapture, hallelujah, and pass the bacon! I'm going to dig myself a wonderful rut and never come out. You'll all wonder, where's that strange girl with the fifteen children and the pink carpet and the crazy lifestyle? and I'll be like, here I am, in the rut down here! Basking in normalcy and writing a book. That's me. I may even, I don't know, get a gym membership or something totally Americana like that. Or a Starbucks punchcard!!! Oh yeah. Totally getting one of those. And shop at The Gap!! Nah, I'm never gonna do that. I went on a date with my LuvahBoy last weekend and we went to see Crazy, Stupid Love (cuz when you've been married more than ten minutes the husband goes to see what the wife wants to see) and there's a scene where Ryan Gosling (who may or may not be married to me in The Movie in My Head) tells Steve Carrell he is better than The Gap. And then he makes fun of his Great Clips haircut, which made us laugh because we had literally just walked out of Great Clips not two hours before. With a coupon.
6. Nutella has become a food group 'round these parts. If that's wrong, Roo and Moose don't wanna be right.
7. According to my stats if you type in Fondant Preacher in a search engine, you will eventually be directed to my blog. I find this funny, odd, and weird, since I don't recall ever in my life having written a word about fondant. I've never used the stuff. Wanted to, but never have. I can't buy fondant when I need Sharpies and magazine subscriptions. Also, silverware, beds, garbage cans, towels, chairs, and all that other stuff we have need of and don't own, but would look great in our 1950s style rental house. Dishcloths, waste baskets, curtains, pillows, soap, spoons, bowls, water glasses. Good grief, I should be making lists of other things... Pots, pans, footstools, why did my font just change on me?
8. I don't actually have anything to say about bacon, sorry. Except that's it is excellent on potato and leek pizza.
9. When we went to the coast a few weeks ago, we all went zip lining. Great fun. Gianni had no fear, quite like he is in water. Segue into...: the little water rat taught himself to swim. He's only three! What the?? I don't know if I like it. Water scares me. Anyone who knows me, knows this. I think it goes back to when Cora disappeared during the Episode of Which We Do Not Speak. She was gone for an hour and a half at the age of four, lost in the mountains and I really thought if the kidnappers didn't have her, then I would find her face down in a stream somewhere. At least, that's my psychologist take on it. Maybe I've just seen Jaws too many times. Whatever. Anyway, the last thing Moose needs is more confidence in the water, so I'm not sure his doggy paddle is something to be happy about. If only the water was full of "pokies" he might exercise a little restraint. Anyway, I would put photos of the little man zip lining but it would make his Gramma toss her cookies, so I won't.
10. I don't have a #10 but you can't end a list on a 9. That's be weird.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Problem with Bathrooms These Daze
Once upon a time this blogger watched an episode of Oprah that mentioned that toilets spray their contents like in a six feet radius when you flush them.
I am not OCD about a ton of stuff, especially dirt/grime/bugs/snakes/germs type stuff. I'm the mom who lets her babies eat all the dirt their little hearts desire, to the chagrin of their aunt. Mud pies are good for the soul, I tells you!
But that sorta grossed me out. The toilets, not the mud pies.
Unfortunately, I have a boy, a man child, a wee human who has been fascinated with the ol' loo since he could toddle on his chubby legs to it. He used to flush all sorts of things down there. Mostly deodorant caps...the occasional Superman action figure. Lunch. He doesn't do that anymore because he uses the toilet for what it's designed for, which you'd think would be great.
Except.
Except he has to hug the thing in order to flush it. We're talking straddle it, both arms akimbo, drawers down, face unbearably close to the very pot. I can tell him till I'm blue in the face to pull up his big boy undies, stand aside, and then flush with one finger, but it ain't gonna happen. He has to make out with the toilet.
And my toilet isn't gross. I have myself plus my pre-teen army of two to clean it regularly.
But Walmart doesn't. And 711 doesn't. The park certainly doesn't.
And even when he's not in there with me (because he's standing under the hand blow dryer with a dreamy look on his face, letting his golden locks fly free) I still get grossed out because those stalls are built for fairy children and elves. Seriously, I'm 5'3" and not hugely overweight and I have a heck of a time fitting in there. Closing the door almost causes me to fall in the bowl. Which would be grodie.
So you're supposed to flush with the lid down - according to the World According to Oprah - but they don't have lids! So the next best alternative is to jump at least six feet away as you push down the flusher, right? Well, no, you can't do that because the stupid toilets flush on their own now. Who invented these things? Cuz he obviously didn't watch Oprah. There is no possible way to get out of the way when there is no lid to close and even if you could jump up fast enough and break through the door, you'd have your skivvies down to your ankles. And no one wants to see that. Also, you would trip on your purse that you had to set down on the four inches of floor space in the stall because the purse hook is busted.
In case you couldn't tell, my five minute run to Walmart was 40 minutes because Gianni had to do #2 twice. And that is why I share my dissatisfaction with automatically flushing toilets and Oprah and her impossible to follow advice, with you.
You.
Are.
Welcome.
The end.
I am not OCD about a ton of stuff, especially dirt/grime/bugs/snakes/germs type stuff. I'm the mom who lets her babies eat all the dirt their little hearts desire, to the chagrin of their aunt. Mud pies are good for the soul, I tells you!
But that sorta grossed me out. The toilets, not the mud pies.
Unfortunately, I have a boy, a man child, a wee human who has been fascinated with the ol' loo since he could toddle on his chubby legs to it. He used to flush all sorts of things down there. Mostly deodorant caps...the occasional Superman action figure. Lunch. He doesn't do that anymore because he uses the toilet for what it's designed for, which you'd think would be great.
Except.
Except he has to hug the thing in order to flush it. We're talking straddle it, both arms akimbo, drawers down, face unbearably close to the very pot. I can tell him till I'm blue in the face to pull up his big boy undies, stand aside, and then flush with one finger, but it ain't gonna happen. He has to make out with the toilet.
And my toilet isn't gross. I have myself plus my pre-teen army of two to clean it regularly.
But Walmart doesn't. And 711 doesn't. The park certainly doesn't.
And even when he's not in there with me (because he's standing under the hand blow dryer with a dreamy look on his face, letting his golden locks fly free) I still get grossed out because those stalls are built for fairy children and elves. Seriously, I'm 5'3" and not hugely overweight and I have a heck of a time fitting in there. Closing the door almost causes me to fall in the bowl. Which would be grodie.
So you're supposed to flush with the lid down - according to the World According to Oprah - but they don't have lids! So the next best alternative is to jump at least six feet away as you push down the flusher, right? Well, no, you can't do that because the stupid toilets flush on their own now. Who invented these things? Cuz he obviously didn't watch Oprah. There is no possible way to get out of the way when there is no lid to close and even if you could jump up fast enough and break through the door, you'd have your skivvies down to your ankles. And no one wants to see that. Also, you would trip on your purse that you had to set down on the four inches of floor space in the stall because the purse hook is busted.
In case you couldn't tell, my five minute run to Walmart was 40 minutes because Gianni had to do #2 twice. And that is why I share my dissatisfaction with automatically flushing toilets and Oprah and her impossible to follow advice, with you.
You.
Are.
Welcome.
The end.
Monday, August 22, 2011
On my mind
Not Georgia. Never been. Would like to, but only in say, January.
Yumminess. It's what's for dinner.
My Moose peeking at me as I type from behind bars. The bars on his top bunk, don't fret. In a minute he'll climb down and accost me with his savage morning breath. It may melt my face, but I can take it, cuz he's my Pooky Head.
Trying to convince Pooky Head to get a haircut. He is opposed. He may be a hippy before I know it; hanging out on the corner, wearing love beads and tie-die, driving a VW bus and crashing my commune. Hey, get your own commune, boy! I was clear on the tie-die rules.
He just asked me if I was typing to the boys. That makes me sniffly. I miss them. You guys reading this? I MISS YOU TURKEYS!
Finding a house. Always starts out So Incredibly Super Fun, then slides down the Richter Scale to Not As Much Fun, then all the way to This Is Frustrating. Scouring craigslist though just never gets old however. I can buy a wheat grass juicer!! Not kidding. I can commiserate with the mad guy who wrote a diatribe about property managers exploiting all his money for application fees and then telling him the house he wants is already rented to someone else (except I'm not at the point where I'll cuss about it and use all caps. Yet). I also liked the ad for a wine rack that announced WINE NOT INCLUDED SO STOP ASKING!
Babies. I can't help myself. If anyone has an extra, please mail me one immediately. My neck has not been drooled on for quite some time. Dang Moose is about to be four. What happened to my baby?? Did he eat him? I need someone to snuggle and cuddle and hug and kiss and name George.
First payday on Thursday!!!! Do the payday dance!! Pirouette and chasse, pas de bouree, and LEAP!! Repeat! One more time! This time, FASTER!
Settle down and have a wheat grass smoothie.
Speaking of haircuts (yes, we were, try to focus, dear reader) Cora wants one. My little tomboy. I'm thinking of allowing her to get an Audrey Hepburn pixie cut but only on the promise that she'll wear cute headbands, or barrettes and learn to style it. Thoughts? Not you, Papa, I know you like it long; other people's thoughts?
Seeing my bachelor brother get hitched soon. I hope the Mr. and Mrs Downum enjoy their wine rack (WINE NOT INCLUDED, SO STOP ASKING!)
My book. I'm at a stage where I feel as though I'm writing filler...books are long. How do authors churn out all these books? I'm creatively depleted and I'm only on 16,000 words.
Breakfast. See ya!
Yumminess. It's what's for dinner.
My Moose peeking at me as I type from behind bars. The bars on his top bunk, don't fret. In a minute he'll climb down and accost me with his savage morning breath. It may melt my face, but I can take it, cuz he's my Pooky Head.
Trying to convince Pooky Head to get a haircut. He is opposed. He may be a hippy before I know it; hanging out on the corner, wearing love beads and tie-die, driving a VW bus and crashing my commune. Hey, get your own commune, boy! I was clear on the tie-die rules.
He just asked me if I was typing to the boys. That makes me sniffly. I miss them. You guys reading this? I MISS YOU TURKEYS!
Finding a house. Always starts out So Incredibly Super Fun, then slides down the Richter Scale to Not As Much Fun, then all the way to This Is Frustrating. Scouring craigslist though just never gets old however. I can buy a wheat grass juicer!! Not kidding. I can commiserate with the mad guy who wrote a diatribe about property managers exploiting all his money for application fees and then telling him the house he wants is already rented to someone else (except I'm not at the point where I'll cuss about it and use all caps. Yet). I also liked the ad for a wine rack that announced WINE NOT INCLUDED SO STOP ASKING!
Babies. I can't help myself. If anyone has an extra, please mail me one immediately. My neck has not been drooled on for quite some time. Dang Moose is about to be four. What happened to my baby?? Did he eat him? I need someone to snuggle and cuddle and hug and kiss and name George.
First payday on Thursday!!!! Do the payday dance!! Pirouette and chasse, pas de bouree, and LEAP!! Repeat! One more time! This time, FASTER!
Settle down and have a wheat grass smoothie.
Speaking of haircuts (yes, we were, try to focus, dear reader) Cora wants one. My little tomboy. I'm thinking of allowing her to get an Audrey Hepburn pixie cut but only on the promise that she'll wear cute headbands, or barrettes and learn to style it. Thoughts? Not you, Papa, I know you like it long; other people's thoughts?
Seeing my bachelor brother get hitched soon. I hope the Mr. and Mrs Downum enjoy their wine rack (WINE NOT INCLUDED, SO STOP ASKING!)
My book. I'm at a stage where I feel as though I'm writing filler...books are long. How do authors churn out all these books? I'm creatively depleted and I'm only on 16,000 words.
Breakfast. See ya!
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