Random Thoughts Thursday

I’m starting to get tired of cookies. Hard to believe, I know, but true. And we have three more weekends to go before sales are over.

I love that my previous post got so much attention. I don’t know why I love words so much, but I do. It’s fun to explore the way people say things. If you have 2 cents to add to the discussion there (because it’s such a scintillating discussion, of course), feel free to leave a comment.

56 days and I haven’t missed one yet! (note: just because I haven't posted for two days does not mean I don't have pictures for those days!  Check back tonight!)

Yesterday I was driving down 82nd Ave. and noticed that one of the many, many, MANY adult stores/strip clubs was offering senior discounts. I still don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I discovered $30 of grocery money I thought I didn’t have. Such a nice feeling.

What is it about chocolate-covered pretzels that makes me so happy? (see what happens when I find unexpected grocery money?  I'm so bad...)

One day, when my children have children of their own, and they complain about how getting them to clean up is like pulling teeth, I will look at them and laugh. One word: Karma.

I just learned today (Google is a remarkable tool and also a remarkable waste of time) that “three is a magic number” is considered by some people to be literal. As in, the title of my blog is a message from the occult. Nice.

It’s a good thing I don’t have a real job, because my volunteer “jobs” are taking up a heck of a lot of time these days.

Hmmm...it's noon.  Maybe I should feed some kids some lunch.  No one's complaining, but on the other hand it's reeeeally quiet...

I'm Probably the Weird One

How do you say coupon?

Because I’m starting to think I’ve been saying it wrong my whole life.

Of course, my accent is pretty messed up. See, I grew up in Oklahoma, but I also lived in England for five years. So, while I used to have a bit of a twang (not much, but a bit), I also picked up a lot of words, phrases, and intonations from my British friends.  I've been back in the US for nearly 15 years (my word, has it been that long?) and at this point I mostly have a pretty generic, non-region-specific American accent, but every once in a while something else sneaks in there and throws my speech patterns for a total loop.

So I'm conducting an informal poll, mostly for my own entertainment.

Do you pronounce leisure as "lee-zhure" or "leh-zhure"?  How about apricot?  "Ape-ricot" or "app-ricot"?  Is Missouri pronounced "miz-ur-ee" or "mah-zur-uh"?  How about Nevada?  "Ne-vah-da" or "ne-vaa-da"?

I remember having discussions like this around the lunch table in high school.  We were a diverse group, mostly Americans, but from all over the country.  It got rather lively at times.

There’s really no point to this post, except that I’ve noticed lately that everyone around me is talking about this “couponing” craze, but they’re not “cue-poning”, they’re “coo-poning”, and I'd like to know who's weird, them or me.

Random Thoughts Thursday

Why is it that I have all kinds of random thoughts, but as soon as I sit down to blog them, they all go out the window?

I’m starting to think that it won’t matter how much I sweep, mop, or pick up, my living room will just continue to look trashy as long as there are multiple cases of cookies stacked in it.

I love watching the Olympics. I just wish NBC wasn’t showing it so late at night. I need more sleep.

It’s hilarious to listen to two little girls pretend that they’re having a baby, and talk about how it took 2 years for the baby to come out. Although I’m pretty sure anyone who’s given birth will probably agree that sometimes it sure feels that way.

Why don’t people wear pants that fit?

I wonder if I should have yet another blog for all the pictures I’m not posting over at Project 365. Because some days there are an awful lot. Not that anyone would want to look at them.

I got a Facebook friend request from “Utah Bouncy Houses” and I really have no idea why.

I’m not going to mention laundry this week.

My brother and sis-in-law got to play with baby turtles on their cruise a couple of weeks ago and I am so stinking jealous.

Why are the ants coming back already? I don’t want to deal with this yet!  And why are they only upstairs?

I would like everyone reading this to know: I like blogstalkers.  You're welcome to visit and welcome to comment anytime, although I would prefer it if your comments were of the friendly variety.  Just so we're all clear on that.  Visits, good.  Comments, good.  Ironic mean comments, bad (but funny.)

The princesses in my house just shut me into the playroom.  That's probably an indication that they're up to no good and don't want me to know about it.  It's a nice day; I think I'll force the royalty to take things outside.

Dear Mr. (or Ms.) Angry Anonymous Commenter Person,

Hi there.  Welcome to my blog!  It appears that a Google.uk search this morning for "kfc three is the magic number" led you here (I'm thinking England is running commercials featuring the "three is a magic number" song, although I thought they might be for McDonalds, given the other recent searches that have led people to me.  I could be wrong, though - it has happened.)  It deposited you on a Random Thoughts Thursday post from back in October, in which I happened to mention KFC.

You may or may not have read the post.  I can't really tell.  But I appreciate that you left me a comment letting me know how you feel about my blog, and, apparently, me in general.

I love comments.  Regular visitors here are well aware of that.  Comments make me feel good.  They make me feel like people are actually reading what I shoot out into the blogosphere.  I write for myself, but I wouldn't be blogging it if I didn't want to share it with other people, too.  In fact, I like comments so much that I didn't want to miss out on any that might be left after I've stopped paying attention to the posts, so I set my blog up to require moderation of comments on posts older than 7 days.

Which is how I was able to notice your comment so soon.  So I thank you kindly for your opinion and welcome you to visit again any time you'd like, although in all likelihood you're long gone and will never return.  Perhaps it's better that way, for both of us.  It would probably never have worked out between us, anyway.  I just wanted you to know, though, that I appreciate the irony of your comment and enjoyed a good laugh this afternoon as a result.  Thanks!

You may not care about my life, but I do, and that's all that really matters.

Still laughing,
Allison

I Suppose It Would Keep the Monsters Away

Ellie still wears pull-ups to bed.  No big deal; she's only four.

Some mornings she wakes up dry, some mornings, not so much.  It's a gradual process.  We went through the same thing with Vicki, but by the time she was six, the pull-ups were a thing of the past.

It's Ellie's job each morning when she gets up to take off her pull-up, go potty, and put on her panties.  If the pull-up is dry, she puts it back on her dresser for the next night (hey, those things are expensive!) and puts a sticker on her chart for staying dry all night.  If it's wet, she's supposed to bring it downstairs and throw it away in the big trash in the garage.  She often forgets that small detail and I keep finding nasty wet pull-ups in the bathroom trash.  We discuss this on a regular basis.

Or we used to.

It occurred to me yesterday morning that I haven't seen pull-ups in the bathroom lately.  I also have not noticed Miss Magoo carrying her pull-ups to the garage.  Nor, come to think of it, have I seen an upturn in the number of stickers on her chart or a downturn in the number of pull-ups being used.  I've definitely still been buying them.

So I asked Ellie where she's been putting the pull-ups these days.  She said, "Oh, under my bed.  I'm storing them there."

The first question that comes to mind is, storing them for what?

The second question is, wait, where?  Because she actually doesn't have an "under the bed".  There's only about three inches between the bottom of her bed and the floor, and I blocked it with 2x4s last year because I was tired of stuff getting shoved under there.

So, um, where exactly are the pull-ups again?

She showed me.  She lay down on her back the floor, shoved her feet against the mattress, and lifted.  And it immediately, and quite fragrantly, became very clear where she'd been putting them.

I pulled 10 of them out from under there.  Most of them were not re-usable, but I threw away even the ones that might have been.  I didn't actually check to find out.  We'd moved beyond frugality at this point.

We had a chat.

There is no longer such thing as under Ellie's bed.

Random Thoughts Thursday

Only one cookie left in the house.  This is good.  Especially since on Saturday the seven boxes of Girl Scout cookies we collectively ordered (because Vicki and Lexi each ordered themselves a box to not share with anyone else) will be here, along with the over 100 boxes we need to deliver to other people.  Good times.

I would like to lose 10 lbs. in the next couple of months.  In light of the previous paragraph, I do not see that as even a remote possibility, and I should probably just go embrace that fact and eat the last cookie.  Right?

This morning I made pancakes for breakfast.  It's amazing how fast they'll get out of bed for that.  I should do it more often.

Yesterday Vicki told me, "Mom, Ms. M. says we can bring Valentines on Friday after all.  Can you go buy me some tomorrow?"  So today, because I am the World's Best Mom (darn it), I went to not one, but two stores and actually managed to find Harry Potter Valentines.  She better appreciate me, because that's two favors in one week.  Those kids, always pushing their luck.

I am currently reading The Help.  Oh, my.  What a good book.  Day two and I'm over halfway through.  So, so good.  (Thanks Rachel!)

Ellie is still convinced that she can control automatic doors by waving her hands.  I can't stop laughing when we're out together.

I swear this room was clean 10 minutes ago.  Human tornadoes, that's what they are.

I don't understand what people find so threatening about teachers wearing religious clothing.  I'm glad Oregon is working towards no longer being one of the last three states with a ban on this.

Chris is in CA again.  I get to take all the kids to Lexi's gymnastics class.  That's always so much fun!

Is Farmville really all that entertaining?  I mean, sure, it's probably better than folding laundry, but I'd much rather waste my time reading a book than harvesting virtual acreage or feeding virtual unicorns or hunting down the virtual Mafia.

Ellie is so excited because I told her we were having a "whatever night" for dinner.  She gets to choose whatever she wants for dinner (within reason, and preferably already in our house) and she's already decided she's having...a hot dog.  Oh, to be four.

I'm making alfredo sauce for a Valentine's party which is being hosted by fabulously talented cook.  Can you say intimidated?

I guess I'll go take care of that last cookie now, and read my book.  And maybe even fold the towels!  Or I could just read the book...

I Stand Corrected

An extremely indignant nine-year-old informed me last night that Dizzy Bear is a GIRL*.

I was not aware of this fact.

The post on HER has been updated to correct this horrible mistake.

My apologies, Dizzy Bear.




*This shouldn't have surprised me, considering that this is the same child who once had a baby doll, a GIRL baby doll, named Jacob.

In Which I Blog about Nothing

I can't think of anything to blog about.

Okay, that's not true.

I can think of LOTS of things to blog about.  I just can't get them to come out sounding right.

Like how I wanted to stay up late reading the other night and decided to be responsible and go to bed (relatively) early instead.

Or, conversely, how I should have done two loads of laundry yesterday but didn't.  I only did one, and then only because I wouldn't have had clean undies today otherwise.  It's all about me, you know.  But now no one seems to have any jammies.

Or how I'm loving Lexi's Brownie troop more and more all the time.  We had a great meeting yesterday, led by Vicki, who is trying to earn her Junior Aide award.

Or how Chris and I have watched two completely different but still both awesome movies the last two weekends: The Tunnel and Stranger Than Fiction.  One left us emotionally on edge for hours afterward (which is a great then when the movies ends at midnight) and one left us on a laughing high for hours afterward (much better, no matter the time.)

Or how I baked snickerdoodles on Sunday, and when Ellie told her sisters about it, she said, "We're making stickernoo... Um, we're making stickernoo... We're making cookies!!!"

But I can't seem to blog about those things in any coherent way.

Perhaps the universe is sending me a message: Put Down the Blog and Slowly Step Away.  And Nobody Gets Hurt.

Time to do some laundry and pick some kids up from school.  Possibly even in that order.

If I don't get distracted by the "stickernoodles" first.

Random Thoughts Thursday

What is it about guacamole that makes me eat so much of it?

I’m letting the girls walk home from school alone again today. It just occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t be advertising this on the internet. Hmmm...

I’m feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the laundry piling up in the hall. I need to fold it, but there’s just so much of it.

How is it that a room can go from spotless to a complete disaster in less than five minutes? Maybe if we figure out the answer to this question, everything else will fall into place, the universe will align, and world peace will be realized.

...or maybe my house will just be cleaner.  That would be okay, too.

Google would like to have access to my location. Why does that make me slightly nervous? Keel da google!!!

I have a new lasagna recipe I think I’ll try tonight. I’ve been using the recipe handed down for generations in my family (actually, I think my mom got it from my grandma, who got it from the back of the lasagna noodles box, but no one has to know that), but I’d like to see if there’s something better out there.

I just read a post here about pronunciations. This is an ongoing issue in our house. I, too, am “bizarrely fascinated by pronunciations.” Grammar nerd, you know.

I had a strange desire to read a Jane Austen book this week.  But I don't own Emma (although I thought I did), so the moment passed and I picked up Wuthering Heights instead.

I think I need to watch Anne of Green Gables again sometime soon.  I need a Gilbert Blythe fix. (love you, honey!)

The Ballad of Dizzy Bear

We have an extra member of our family that you may not know about.

Her name is Dizzy Bear. She’s small and she’s blue and she’s not as fluffy as she used to be.

Dizzy has been Vicki’s stuffed friend of choice for a loooong time. I bought it for her in Washington, D.C. when she was 19 months old. We’re not sure where the name Dizzy came from (D.C., maybe? Who knows how the mind of a not-quite-two-year-old works.) When she was younger, Dizzy went everywhere she did. To the store, to church, to Grandma’s house. She went hiking...

See her?  It's like Where's Waldo.  She's "helping" her climb the rocks.

...and camping...

When your 4-year-old daughter allows you the privilege and honor of posing for a photograph with The Bear, how can you possibly say no?

...and she even made it into our family picture one year.  She hung on the wall with us for a very long time.

Once she got lost in Wal-Mart. It was pretty traumatic. We got her back the next day (apparently she made some friends in the toy department and decided to hang out for a while until an employee realized she didn’t actually belong there and sent her to wait for us in the lost & found. After that, Dizzy had to stay in the car when we went into stores.

One day, not long after Vicki’s third birthday, I took the girls to McDonald’s while Chris was working late at school, and Dizzy sneaked in. And was kidnapped by some strange man. I kid you not. When we ran back in from the car to search for her, other parents in the play area told us they had seen a man in the regular dining area with a bear that fit Dizzy’s description to a T. But by then the man was gone and so was our beloved Dizzy Bear.

We lived without her for three weeks. Vicki cried. I cried. It was devastating for all of us. The people at McDonald’s got really sick of me calling them to ask if a little blue Beanie Baby-like bear had turned up. They just didn’t understand. We needed our Dizzy.

Looking back I can’t believe we actually did what we did next, but that little bear had personality. We searched the internet for a new Dizzy. I must have Googled every possibility: “Washington DC stuffed bear”, “souvenirs Washington DC bear”, “Washington DC teddy bear”, “50 states bears Washington DC”, “please, dear Lord, just let me find this bear”. We were beginning to give up hope, and to this day I cannot remember the words or the website where we finally hit the jackpot, but the search result I clicked on right after Chris said, “One last website and we’re done” was the one. We found her! And paid a ridiculous amount (probably three times what I originally paid) to get her back.

And what a joyous day that was.

Of course Vicki knew it wasn’t the same bear, but she was happy to have a replacement all the same. Those three weeks were long. She’s been just as well loved as the original, but this one has thankfully stuck with us {although she did have to be rescued from a Barnes & Noble about two months after we got her. You’d think we’d have learned, but no...)

She spent a week at Girl Scout camp last summer.

She still has a place of honor among all of Vicki’s stuffed animals.

And she sleeps on her neck every night.

She may be getting shabby, but, just like the rest of us, she’ll always be a part of the family.