Thursday, September 29, 2011

What Kind of Yard Art do You Prefer?

I like yard art. And not ironically.
I have garden gnomes, birds and toadstools hidden around on the property. My husband prefers things like truck toppers and piles of old lumber and tiles, which obviously thrills me (a woman obsessed with home decor and gardening magazines), but I digress. So imagine my glee and envy when The Bloggess bought Beyonce, the notorious giant metal chicken for herself her husband on their anniversary. Warning to husbands: This is what happens when you do not allow your spouse to buy towels.

And then I found a six foot tall metal chicken in Loveland that I could potentially call my own!

Yes, of course I pulled over and posed with it for a picture.



This rooster and I scream "gangster", don't you think?

I would have liked to load it in my truck but I didn't have the $418.95 that was the asking price. Damned groceries.

So instead of an overpriced hunk of poorly welded metal, Brock and I wisely adopted two ponies for the winter. Clearly we could win awards for our stellar decision making skills.

I'm pretty sure that the Things will enjoy the ponies more than a rusted piece of metal to play around. Both require tetanus shots, so why not pick the fuzzy ones that eat and poop (and eat and poop and eat and poop)?


OMG PONIES!!!!!

So, as sad as it is that I left the metal chicken by the side of the road in Loveland, we have two new pieces of yard art.

Meet Blizzard and Duke.


Blizzard- The Happy Appy!


Duke- The Quaint Paint.
 

Welcome boys! We are thrilled to have you!

Peace, Love and OMG PONIES!!!!,
Johi

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

The Best Movie Trailer Ever

A year or two ago, my girlfriend and I were perusing the local movie listings for a girl's night out. That is when we noticed the title "Trash Humpers" and laughed so hard that I may or may not have snorted. Then we decided on drinks instead, which was the correct choice because we saw a REAL LIFE crazy person who was yelling obscenities to an invisible whore (or someone?) in downtown Ft. Collins.

We never saw Trash Humpers, but I found the trailer to share with you. Please don't watch this in front of your children. Or your boss.


You. Are. Welcome.

If anyone watched this splendid film, I would love to read your review.
I wonder if Netflix has it.....
Actually, I am having a hard enough time wiping the last 1:18 minutes from my mind. I don't think I could handle an entire film.

Do you squash or squish the pencil?

Yesterday was .... ?

It doesn't bode well for the day when you lurch yourself out of bed to discover that your back is out and your first and only thought is "How much longer before I can go back to sleep?". It probably didn't help that I "dressed' myself for the day in sweatpants and a tank top. Nothing says "Bring it on world!" like a drawstring waist, pants that make you appear to be smuggling a loaf of bread in the ass and your bra straps sliding down your arm.

The real result of my first class start to the day is that I'm nursing a pretty bad case of writer's block. I actually think it is a combination of lack of sleep, sore muscles from a much much much overdue yoga class and stress about trying to help out a neighbor by taking in her cat. Or maybe I'm just out of things to say... yeah right, in Brock's dreams. The sleep problem can be cured by Benadryl and the muscle soreness can be alleviated through a combination of more exercise, hydration and two Advil. Unfortunately though, the final issue of the cat proves more difficult as she hates us and has spent the last three days torturing us through a variety of well honed feline passive aggressive methods. She lurked under the bed for two straight days, yowled through the night in our bedroom (thus keeping us awake), growled at any and all children (not cool), hissed at the dogs (I understand) and fought with Smelly Cat through the sliding door (I should have recorded it and sold to to Hollywood for the soundtrack to a horror film). The best part was when she professed her sheer and utter disdain for me by attacking my naked thigh this morning with her fully sharpened set of ninja kittah claws. I guess that in exchange for me feeding her, petting her and letting her camp out under my bed, she thought it was best to repay my kindness by shredding my flesh to a bruised and bloody pulp. Thank you kitty. Message received. Thank God it was only my already hail damaged/spider vein splattered leg and not the perfectly smooth baby cheeks of one of my precious Things.



The injury is much more impressive in person.

.....And the cat has left the building.

Hey, I tried.

I later made good use of nap time by staring into a blinking cursor on my blank "new post" page until I clicked away to read a friend's blog post where she told us that her mother informed her that she didn't need a bra until she could hold a pencil under her special tissue.... unaided by her hands. Then I realized (yet again) that I really have no place buying or owning bras.
Later I had a IM conversation with a different friend where we were discussing the always stimulating topics of weight loss, boobs and alcohol. They may or may not be related . Here is a snippet:

Me: Can you give me a bit of your boobage? I need help.
Her: GLADLY....these puppies seriously get in the way.
I'm hoping one day before I die I can figure out the correct bra size to wear without asking for some crusty old lady's help that works in a corset shop!
OR I'll just start wearing tube socks with a hula hoop under them. You know, for support.
Me: lmao!!!!! Good Lord- write that shit down lady! Funny stuff!
Her: I just did ;);)YOU take it.
Her: you said you needed some creative energy fairies sending pencil dust your way!
Here's my final and laziest answer to the boobage issue.........
sans hula hoops, I'll just wear the socks,pull em all the way up and tuck the boobs in there. That's essentially where they end up anyway after 3 kids.
Then I decided that holding pencils under your breasts was way overrated and I went on to thinking about other important things; like butternut squash.
Naturally I thought about food, because we were discussing weight loss.
And then I started thinking about the delicious dinner that I made with some of the butternut squash that I grew in the garden, which I will now share with you.


They are not consistent in size but I'm told that is "normal".

I will have you know that Brock and I both gave it two thumbs up and the children tried to give it to the dogs. But seriously, what do they know? Thing 2 eats crayons (and sometimes rocks) and Thing 1 eats boogers, so I think it is safe to say that their palettes are not quite distinguished as of yet.


Yum-bah.

I made it gluten free. If you don't have issues with wheat, you could easily use Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix (which is what the original recipe called for).
Butternut Squash Casserole
1 lb ground beef
3 cups peeled and cubed (1/2 inch pieces) of butternut squash or pumpkin
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 15-oz can of black beans, rinsed and drained
1 1/2 cups frozen corn (or 3 ears of fresh corn, cut from cob)
4 oz of salsa Verde (or diced green chilies)
1/2 t sea salt
1/2 cup beef broth
4 oz cream cheese
________________________________________
1 cup of Bob's Red Mill Gluten-Free Cornbread mix
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/3 cup milk (I used coconut milk)
1/3 cup canned pumpkin
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
In a large skillet, cook beef, onion and squash over medium heat until beef is browned. Drain fat. Stir in corn, beans, salsa (or chilies) and salt. Heat. Stir in broth and cream cheese until blended. Transfer mixture to a 2 1/2 or 3 quart baking dish.
In a medium bowl stir together Cornbread mix, egg, milk and canned pumpkin. Spoon over beef mixture.
Bake for 20 minutes. Drizzle with honey before serving.
My children are insane. This is killer.
I also used the remainder of the Cornbread Mix (it is a 20 oz bag), mixed it with 1/2 cup milk, 1 egg, and the remainder of the canned pumpkin (about 1/2 cup). I put it into a greased muffin tin (I got 11 muffins) and baked it at 400 degrees for 11-15 minutes. Delish, and now I know what we are having for breakfast (with butter and honey, of course).
P.S. I peel the squash with a potato peeler and it works great.
Peace, Love and Unicorns,
Johi

Friday, September 23, 2011

How to give thoughful gifts.

Many months ago, my best friend noticed that I often signed off on my blog with the artful and civilized "Peace, Love and Unicorns" and he graciously emailed me these pictures of a rare and elusive manicorn.



Neigh.
*snort*

and this one....



Don't fuck with his horn or he will lose his magic.

The first (obviously) became my avatar for an online community which I joined. The second became inspiration of the highest form.

What form is that?, you ask.

The "what makes you laugh, makes you cry" form of giving thoughtful gifts.


You see, this same best friend recently moved to San Francisco. He totally left me and I didn't even get pissy with him. I know? But only because there is a hopeful (or delusional) side of me that thinks that I will be able to afford plane tickets once or twice a year to fly out for a visit. That seems possible, right? Right?

Here is where I interview a different good friend who moved to Washington state some time ago:

Me: Hi lovely, how are you?

Her: I'm really great. I'm busy picking apples from all the glorious trees in Washington- getting ready to press 15 gallons of apple cider.

Me: Awesome! I need to interview you for my blog because I'm out of shit to write about. Is that cool?

Her: Yeah, that's fine!

Me: When did you move to Washington?

Her: *um* I'm eating, talking, driving and dripping tomato seeds all over myself..... When I was one.

Me: I mean the recent move.

Her: Oh, 6 and 1/2 or 7 years ago.

Me: How many times have I flown there to visit you in that time span?

Her: Let me think. Ew... One.
And only because your sister brought you, might I add.

And there we have it. My reality.

And then we shared parenting moments as she told of her adorable and gregarious 10 year old daughter's crepe making business and I told of how we had to leave the playground early because my kid "punched" another kid. Awesome. Maybe I need to move to Washington....

So, back to this fucking best friend of mine who abandoned me and moved to San Francisco. I wanted to get him and his partner something special for their new home. Something that they would treasure for eternity. A heedful gift that would fill them with loving thoughts {about me}. That is why I chose to give them the gift that I ordered for this same bestie's birthday way back in April, yet never got around to mailing to him, because let's face it, dragging two children to the post office is ridiculous and only crazy (or organized...whatever) people do stuff like that.

So this is what I gifted him for his birthday going away present, which was unwittingly inspired by him:


Thank you to The Cotton Floozy for your craftastic artistry.
 I will have you know that it was, indeed, very well received.

As the wonderful world of retail will quickly remind us, Christmas is coming. So bitches best panic now, get out your wallets and visit The Cotton Floozy's Blog for more fabulous gift ideas. She makes everything from precious crocheted magnets to charming embroidered birds informing bathroom visitors that "Your poop smells nice". Anything that you could ever fathom in the discerning gift giving department (especially if you are looking for a gift for the Corn Fed Girl) can be discovered by simply clicking on this link to The Cotton Floozy.

Seriously, I want that Back-Off mask.

Peace, Love and Manicorns,
Johi

Social media promotes narcissism.

The facebook is at it again with change.

As change often brings confusion, at first I was as disoriented as a stripper without a pole, but I have since figured out how to "subscribe" to people without blowing up my notifications box. I'm still not exactly sure what "subscribing" is, but I'm pretty sure that everyone else is doing it so I guess I will too. Baaahaaah. Bleet bleet.<-----sheep noises. As I was poking around I also discovered that apparently facebook is now offering a purely self-absorbed "subscribe option" to us as well. This is how they are explaining it:

"Want Subscribers of Your Own?
Now you can include more people in your public updates, without adding them as friends" - the facebook

Hey there! Since we are all in such high demand, we can be so kind as to let people see our status updates (which are clearly fascinating) but we don't have to bother with pesky things like acknowledging their existence and adding them as friends! Super! Now we can all be like Kathy Griffin on Twitter, because last I checked she was following not a soul, for clearly no one, save Kathy, has anything interesting or useful to say.

For those of you poor unfortunate souls who aren't my facebook friends, let me offer these stimulating previous status updates from my facebook archives:

I would like to offer Brock's zucchini to all of my facebook friends: Free. Please take it. I'm serious. I cry every time a new one grows. And why are you still thinking dirty? Get your minds right, people!



Stupid question from Brock, "Ohhh, do you want some of that margarita?"

Nothing says "Hey! We're here!" like your dog crapping on the floor of your new vet clinic. Is there a band of hillbillies following me through life playing the mouth harp, the jug and the banjo? Just wondering....

The music that they play on Brock's beloved Encore Westerns Channel makes me want to kill someone. It is that bad. So so bad.

I thought that standing on the corner, dancing like a fool with the M and E Painting sign was the worst job ever. And then I saw the guy dancing on the corner, dressed as a dog holding the pet waste removal sign...... he wins.

....And for the win....

Whomever coined the phrase "Don't cry over spilled milk" clearly never used a breast pump.

There. Minus 56 updates about brownies, that about covers the last two years. My assignment in egocentricity is complete.
*Like my page on facebook and you can receive more beguiling and thought-provoking updates, much like these, but with less Brock and more snark.... for FREE.*
This could very well be the only giveaway I do, people- jump on it.

Go forth, have a great day and remember, as John Wayne once said, "Compliments are always welcome, no matter what the source."

Cheers,
Johi

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Personal Growth with Dr. Wayne Dyer or Stunted Living with Johi. You Pick.

I love Dr. Wayne Dyer so much that I follow him on facebook. I also follow The Rio's Margaritas, but I digress. I enjoy getting daily doses of his brand of positive thinking, although my initial responses (in my head) are almost always the polar opposite of what he is trying to convey. Today, the lucky readers of this post are going to get a glimpse inside the mind of the Corn Fed Girl, then you can tell your therapist that you know someone more screwed up than you. You. Are. Welcome.

Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
Dr. Dyer's picture from his facebook page


When someone suggests something that may seem at first to be outrageous, listen and be curious. Avoid being judgmental. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

When someone suggests something that may at first seem outrageous, they are probably high on drugs, crazy or drunk. Sit back and enjoy the show. It will be like watching Jackass in live action. - Johi


I am a human being, not a human doing. Don't equate your self-worth with how well you do things in life. You aren't what you do. If you are what you do, then when you don't...you aren't. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Good, I can be a lazy ass and sit on the computer all day while Spongebob Squarepants rots the minds of my children and no one can judge me because I am simply making a point that what I do doesn't define me, it is who I aspire to be on the inside that really matters. - Johi



Saint Francis used faith to overcome his greatest fear and saw the fear dissolve into love. For us, too, faith conquers fear. By simply recognizing our connection to Spirit and to one another through Spirit, we raise our consciousness to the level where love replaces fear. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

I would like a statue of Saint Francis in my flower garden... I think those garden statues are cute. Doesn't he protect babies or animals....or maybe it is baby animals? Crap, then Smelly Cat will have to stop eating baby bunnies and birds in the flower garden. - Johi


Hold no grudges and practice forgiveness. This is the key to having peace in all your relationships. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Hahaha. Fine. I can forgive the assholes, but I don't want to be near them, see them or hear them speak. And if I continue to fantasize about them dieing in a fiery crash does it still count as forgiveness? - Johi


Hate converts to love when the energy of love is in its presence. It's important to remember that hate, directed toward yourself or others, can always be converted into the life-giving, love-granting life force of intention. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

I still will hate snakes for eternity. Nothing about something slimy moving with no legs can muster up any feelings of love within me. - Johi


Practice enjoying the present moment, rather than using it up consumed with guilt over the past or worry about the future. Refuse to allow any thoughts based on your past to define you. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Uh... I was raised Catholic. We rock at guilt. And I am a slightly Type A mother. Worry is at the top of every one of our neatly penned lists. Why Catholics drink: because the drink numbs the thoughts of the past that your entire community has used to define you (and your immediate and extended family). Why I have boxed wine in my pantry: It allows me to enjoy the present moment of drinking wine while sitting in Eleanor and reading. Shit, I have this all figured out. - Johi


Without exception, begin every day of your life with gratitude. As you look in the mirror, say, "Thank you, God, for life, for my body, for my family and loved ones, for this day, and for the opportunity to be of service. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" - Dr. Wayne Dyer

I actually practice gratitude every day, but I do it at the end of the day thankyouverymuch. Yesssss! Thank you that I can do something right. - Johi


You cannot always control what goes on outside, but you can always control what goes on inside. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

Try telling that to my digestive system. - Johi


By referring to previous struggles and using them as reasons for not getting on with your life today, you're assigning responsibility to the past for why you can't be successful or happy in the present. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

But my parents really did use me as an indentured servant! and my cat died! and that guy made fun of me that one time when I was running! and .... wah wah wah wah..... Forget it. If I victimize myself, people will victimize me. If I am a fucking winner, people will give me free chocolate and offer to clean my house. - Johi


Release the need to be upset with others. Remember that anytime you're filled with resentment, you're turning the controls of your emotional life over to others to manipulate. - Dr. Wayne Dyer

I knew he watched Top Model...- Johi



Aaaaand, that's all for the day. Off to don my green leisure suit. I have children to raise and house chores with my name spray painted all over them beckoning me.



Peace, Love and Unicorns,
Johi


Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Should the man kill the bug?

Brock and I share bug eradication duties in this house. Don't tell Brock, but honestly, I really don't mind killing the bug, and I do it all the time when he is at work. But when he is in the room with me and we spot a creeper in the bathtub, I make a big deal out of him "rescuing" the family from the tiny intruder. Why? Because I am letting him wear the pants. Isn't that nice of me? Never mind that he is afraid of spiders and they really don't bother me (unless they are excessively large and hairy...or shiny, I think shiny spiders are actually more frightening than their hairy cousins...) I tell myself that he likes saving his family from the serial killing spider in the drain.

There is sort of an unspoken duty assignment in this household. I wash the underwear and everything else (all of the time), he takes out the trash (most of the time), and so on and so forth.  I believe it keeps our family in balance. Never mind that Brock is the actual key to the smooth sailing, as the man is so mellow that I sometimes check his vitals when he sleeps. Again, thank God he doesn't smoke pot. He would be in a coma. 

So there is something stuck in the garbage disposal. I don't know what it is, but when I turn it on I get a face full of spray that is a delightful mixture of water, last night's spaghetti and this morning's oatmeal. Yummy.

And I have no intention of sticking my hand into that greasy hole and searching out the culprit.

Why?

Because yesterday Thing 2 shit on me at the chiropractors office, an appointment which I had to wake BOTH sleeping children to get to on time. Did you get that? THEY WERE BOTH ASLEEP AT THE SAME TIME. We all had adjustments, which we all three needed, and as soon as we got home, Thing 2 fell directly on his head in a glorious hands-free noggin landing, which is obviously an awesome activity after a spinal correction. And I needed to do laundry, but the machine was broken, which Brock "fixed" by shoving a screwdriver into a hole and leaving it there. Mysteriously, that method of "fixing" was not effective, so I had to stand in front of the washer with the lid open and manually depress a button. (If anyone starts in on me about doing laundry in the creek with a bar of lye and a washboard, I warn you that I can hit a human head with my shoe from a solid 20 feet away.) Then I forced myself to play barnyard animals with the Things, and Thing 2 gleefully chucked a large plastic horse in my direction and hit me in the eye (I have clearly passed my target hitting abilities to the next generation). Then I put a 16 month old in time out, which is always smooth sailing. Oh and Thing 1 woke up screaming with pain in his ear, so I kept him home from school and put him on antibiotics and listened to him whine. Then I cleaned inside and out and it still looks like a herd of buffalo ran through my house and patio. Then I drank a glass three sips of fucking rancid wine that I purchased because it had a buffalo on the label (I like buffalo). Then I cleaned the toilet and no, I did not shower before bed. And I never got to exercise either, just like the previous seven days. And I killed three spiders, four bees and picked up dog poo from the yard.

So, I vote that Brock sticks his hand down the slimy steamy trap and fish out whatever is stuck. Screw the bugs, I can handle those dudes. I think the man should clean the sink drain, because that stuff REALLY creeps me out. I also vote that he empties the mysterious containers of uneaten leftover food from the refrigerator.....

What things do you take charge of in your house? What about your significant other?

Friday, September 16, 2011

Friday Fun

Love.


Have a great Friday!

Peace, Love and Martinis,
Johi

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Stoop or Soar? I think I'll fly, bitches.

I'm not here to blow wind up your skirt. There is an internal battle daily between optimistic me and pessimistic me. Which side wins is directly dependent on the amount of sleep that I have gotten the night before. I do make a conscious effort to find beauty and gratitude in my life on a daily basis.... and if I can't do that, I try and at least find humor..... and if I can't do that, I watch reality TV and go to bed.

Some days I rock at positivity, complete with glorious mental imagery (What? I'm creative- we creative types do weird things). Other days I am simply irritated by optimism and I just want to retreat to a quiet place and read. I think that this is "normal" for humans. We are, after all, inherently flawed. Right?

So even though I woke up yesterday feeling like I fell out a the garbage truck as it was driving by my house, like I always do the glass was basically half full, it was a tough day. Thing 2 was sick with a high fever and the only thing that made him happy was to be in my arms. So I held him. All day. I sat in Eleanor and rocked the baby until he fell asleep with his head on my apparently pillow-like belly. His fever had made him uncharacteristically docile, and I'm sure the vomiting didn't help either.

So we rocked, and rocked and rocked the day away.

Dishes were left on the counter, laundry was left in the dryer, toys were strewn across the floor, yet we rocked.

On the bright side, I got to sit on my butt all day and not feel guilt of any kind because my baby needed me. Okay, this is not even true, because Thing 1 was bored out of his mind. Guilt-free sitting is probably not possible for me. I grew up on a farm people. We did not rest in the middle of the day. Ever. Ever. It was like this unknown deep voice booming out from the heavens over us "Though shalt not lie down in the middle of the day!" Okay, the booming voice was my dad's, and it wasn't coming from heaven, but more from the vicinity of the kitchen. Shit, you couldn't even be idle for two seconds around that man. Even if you were standing there, pondering whether you wanted a cookie or an apple, he thought that you needed a job and would demand "What are you doing right now? I need help with moving that pile of railroad ties! Put on your boots and gloves and meet me outside!" Quickly I learned to bring home ALL of my textbooks and constantly have them strewn out in front of me, signalling to him that I was doing something useful. (Then I would watch The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air in while "studying".) So now anytime I get to "rest" all day, I slyly take it, like a child stealing a lollipop. I am honestly grateful for the rest, as my batteries are often drained. Some people would use this rest time for meditation or prayer. Being a person who always makes good use of her time, I caught up on about four episodes of Ellen and some Internet reading.

Obviously, on the ick side, I was only sitting on my arse because my little pumpkin felt awful, but it paid off because he was a bit better by bedtime.

While rocking the baby, I was reading some of the traffic sources for my blog. I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat. I was getting traffic from something called "Christian Forums". "Shit.", I thought. "What material of mine would be appropriate for something called Christian Forums?" So I clicked on it and found that some clearly intelligent person with a sense of humor liked and shared a link to my How to Leave the House with Children comedy post , where I think I only used one naughty word. I felt temporarily relieved.... that is, until I read the comments from other Christians using this forum that proudly declares them to be people of Jesus. People pretty much hated me. Two of them actually accused me of being things that were quite insulting. What. The. Fuckity Fuck? Now, I happen to come from a long line of Catholics (Go Breeders!) and even though I found a different church that better suits me, I am still a Christian (the kind that doesn't announce it to everyone she meets). Upon reading this garbage written about me with hate, all I could think was "Well. That doesn't seem very "Christian-like", now does it?"

I will admit two things:

1. I am nowhere near God, Jesus, Mother Theresa or even Jessica Alba, and Karmically, I probably deserve some reminders of that.

2. I knew that putting myself "out there" on the World Wide Web could potentially create unfavorable backlash targeted at me. I am the polar opposite of thick-skinned and I knew that shit could be slung at me, yet I consciously chose to push forward and put my thoughts and words out there for criticism. That is exceedingly frightening and difficult for me, as, I assure you, I am my own worst critic.

Yet, this blog has been such an uplifting place for me, filled with messages from wickedly funny people who dig my posts, and aside from one "anonymous" douche-bag marking my facebook page as "spam that contains derogatory/inflammatory information", I have only gotten positive and encouraging words from people.

I would like to take this moment to sincerely say THANK YOU to my readers. And extra thanks to those of you who linked to me and take the time to comment, because knowing that people are actually reading and enjoying what I write makes me feel like I am giving something positive to society (other than the two awesome kids that I am raising), and that makes me feel useful, which in turn makes me feel good about myself. Let's face it, we all need to feel good about ourselves. Then the goodness trickles down to those that we encounter and that whole "pay if forward" theory is set into motion.

Whether my readers are Christian, Buddhist, Atheist, or what-have-you, I love you. You guys make my day every time I log on to find that my words meant something to you, and your positive and hilarious messages far outweigh a couple of "God Like" people's derogatory remarks.

If I could ask two things from you today:

1. Could you send some positive thoughts/prayers/good vibes to Thing 2? I hate to see my precious ones not feeling well.
2. Pay that good shit forward. I promise that I will.

Peace Be With You
(and also with you),
Johi

What sorts of negative things have you encountered with your personal work? How did you deal with it?

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Hysterical Laughing or Crying? It's a No-Brainer....

I LOVE movies. Thankfully, Brock does too, so it is a mutual bonding "activity" for us. I love sitting still for two hours and letting someone else entertain me for once to be transported to a story through visual effects, music, attractive stars and witty dialogue. I think Brock loves being in the same room with me for two hours when I am not talking. I love popcorn. I get emotionally wrapped up in plots and I love flawed characters and first kisses and chemistry. The only thing I have a hard time with is the death. Not so much adult people's deaths (because, let's face it, some people deserve to die). But when the innocents bite it, children and animals, I feel like someone is ripping out my guts.

As I have mentioned before- I may be unstable.

Is it a bad sign that I cried during the preview for the movie Dolphin Tale?

You haven't seen the preview? OMG, it's about a dolphin.... who loses his...*sniffle*..tail and people....*waiver*... believe in overcoming adversity *choke*....by dreaming the impossible *gasp*....

Yeah, I probably won't be able to see the movie.



I don't do well with animal or baby drama:
....which is why Snowdogs has been on my DVR for six months and I still haven't watched it (I KNOW a dog is going to die, I can sense it, and I haven't felt emotionally equipped for that in...well.... six months).
....which is why I will never again watch Old Yellar.
....which is why I bawled like a baby when I watched Return to Snowy River (yet oddly never shed a tear at Steel Magnolias)
....which is why I don't even want to discuss Benji or Where the Red Fern Grows.
....which is why I don't watch anything about kidnapping or untimely death of children- which is why I have to limit my time with Lifetime or the Hallmark channel.

So I choose comedy most of the time. Because I am a firm believer that everything can be cured with laughter (and cupcakes).

So Hysteria looks like it is right up my ally:




Seriously, the invention of the vibrator? Genius topic. How can this NOT be hysterical?

Plus, as a youngster, I went to camp with the director of the film, and she was awesome 20 years ago, so I can only assume she is even more awesome today. AND we're totally facebook friends. Awesomesauce.

Now that I know a bunch of famous people, I need to go finish the laundry, scrub that sticky mystery substance off the floor and consider showering.

What movies are on your to-do list?

Monday, September 12, 2011

Fight Fire With Fire

You know how when certain people start talking, it leaves you fantasizing about a bucket which would hold an entire human head (specifically theirs) and enough water to cover it?

No?

Never mind....
But for the rest of you:

So there I am, standing in a herd of mothers on a playground. In our midst was a number 10 (i.e. a braggart). The list of things that this woman claimed to be an expert on was long (winded), detailed, hyper and annoying the ever-living fuck out of me. I tried a few techniques to subtly let her know of her social inadequacy. I used intense and ugly sarcasm, I didn't make eye contact, I used harshly inappropriate language, and I even walked away and stretched my hamstrings.

Yet she did not falter.

At one point, her level of ridiculousness was so fierce that I actually engaged her with a question, for the sole purpose of blog fodder just to hear her bloated, self-loving answer. It was Ah-mah-zing. She was Ah-mah-zing. (Just ask her, she'll agree).



And I was going to be either an astronaut or a Victoria's Secret Model....

Just before I was ready to bore out my own eardrums with an ice pick, my friend swooped in with the most brilliant move in playground history. She out-played this egotistical peacock. I know all of you have been in this situation with someone from work, from school, from church or a mom's group and you find yourself stranded with your standard, self-declared-god-like human. "How do you shake these people?", you ask. "TELL ME....."

It was genius. She directed her attention at this gasbag and started talking in detail about bodily functions. Farting (or, as her husband likes to delicately refer to it: letting gas *gagging over here*) was the main subject, but she also threw in some details about fecal matter and urine that I believe sealed the deal. Or maybe it was her walk-by-pause-and-lift-the-leg demonstration of flatulence (directed at Miss Windbag herself). Either way, we all took her cue and joined in, it worked, and Suzy-So-Splendid-And-Smart walked away from us.  Then we all sighed a collective sigh of relief and moved along to the more important subjects of double knit polyester and giant metal chickens.

So remember, the next time you run into a diarrhea fountain of braggadocio, fight fire with fire. And if you can light yours on fire, then you get double bonus points.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

My Life is This Exciting.

Conversations with and around my four year old, otherwise known as Thing 1.

*Thing 2 is shrieking. Again. It is clear that he is pleased with his volume and pitch. I decide it is time to take action before he becomes a menace to society.*

Me to Thing 2, "Do I need to put you in time out?"

Thing 1, "THAT'S A GREAT IDEA!"


*The Things and I are playing with blocks. Thing 1 and I are building and Thing 2 is playing the part of Babyzilla. The scattering of blocks is violent, frequent and obviously filling him with glee.*

Thing 1 looks at me and says, "Maybe you should put the baby down to sleep...."


*The Things and I are eating lunch. Thing 2 is "using" his spoon and dumping soup down his overalls. Thing 1 is nibbling on his sandwich like a squirrel eating an Oreo. I finished two bowls of soup and was cutting myself a brownie for dessert.*

Me to Thing 1, "I ate all of my lunch so I am having a brownie. If you eat all of yours, you can have one too."

Thing 1, "You must be a really big girl!"

.......

awesome.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

If at first you don't succeed, take some cold medicine and try again.

Our anniversary weekend was kicked off with a massive head cold on my behalf. Nothing says "sexy beast" like breathing through your mouth and coughing up phlegm. I set a very romantic tone, indeed. In short, we cancelled our plans for a weekend in the mountains and settled on one evening out instead. We browsed the antique mall, had an amazing dinner and then I made my husband take me to see Bridesmaids in the cheap theatre, which officially made this the best anniversary ever. And yes, he liked it too. In fact, he laughed just as hard as I did. In his words he "nearly burst a sac". Don't we just ooze class?

Since I see illness as a giant effing waste of time, I was fully dedicated to having a fun weekend, despite my hacking and snorting. So I spread my germs planned a labor day party for my friends who recently moved from Jersey and popped some non-drowsy cold meds! The sheer amount of physical labor that one can do on a single dose of cold medication is astounding. I was hopped up like Mary Lou Retton on cocaine. I'm not going to lie, it was kind of awesome and I got a shit ton of work done. I pruned four giant trees, my entire flower garden, the surrounding willow shrubs and cleaned the entire house from top to bottom in a 24 hour period. Never mind that I was sweating through my eyelids and I can hardly walk today, nor can I lift anything with my right hand. The place looks GREAT and it was worth it!

Other than the fact that all nine children at my house were devoured by mosquitoes, the party was a success. (Duh, my friends are incredible)

Since I had actually cleaned my home, I gave my Jersey friend a full-house tour. She had never been here before and I was glad to show off my decorating efforts. Then I told her that this would be the only time I cleaned for her arrival (because honestly, my house is normally a pit) but I wanted her to know the "cuteness potential" of my home (plus she wants me to help her decorate and I didn't think that two months worth of dust on the furniture, toys and dog hair on the carpet, laundry strewn across the floor, mail in eight piles around the house and grit and sticky substance and clutter on every surface would say "Pick ME to help you decorate. I'm good. No really. I am.").

Then this morning I woke up to a clean home! And a code red diaper situation with Thing 2, complete with full crib bedding infiltration. As I was taking care of that mess, Thing 2 was busy dumping Thing 1's apple juice all over the floor. As I was cleaning up the apple juice, Thing 2 was methodically pulling every dish towel out of the drawer and throwing it around the kitchen like confetti. As I was picking up the dish towels... well you get the picture, it was one of those days. But I was determined to overcome!

Then we had a sales presentation for "whole house air cleaning system" in our home. (Code: a vacuum dude came here and showed us the coolest vacuum ever.) Then only thing this contraption didn't do was hover in mid air. I was thinking "Thank God I spent yesterday cleaning! Now he won't think we are total pigs!" Then he got out this awesome blue rocket and pulled scary, nightmare-inducing crap out of every surface of our home, including Eleanor (surprise surprise, she was born in 1969). I felt like the worst housekeeper on the planet, or like Debra on Everybody Loves Raymond. I seriously wanted to buy this thing but it was the same cost as the enormous amount of dental work that I still need to have performed and I pick eating over a clean house. But I seriously want this thing.....

Then I spent the rest of the day in the mom vortex of cooking and cleaning and playing with the kids and time out and laundry. I was feeling like, despite the fact that I had been sick and even if my house looks clean we are living in 35 years of dead skin cells and dog hair, I had been moderately successful. Then Brock walked in, looked at me and announced,"You look haggard".
Yessss. Thanks honey. Let's put a little NyQuil that, shall we?

Friday, September 2, 2011

More Love for You and I

A poem* for my Brock, on our anniversary:

On this day, 6 years ago, you married me.
We laughed and loved, we danced until 3.
It was the best day of my life,
the day I officially became your wife.

It was just us, you and I,
There, as two, we began our ride,
We threw parties and took vacations,
we became parents! (goodbye parties and vacations) which filled us with pride.
It also transformed us with new worry and stress.
Oh how one baby made me feel like a mess!

....And no sleep doesn't help either.

But we learned a different kind of love and sacrifice,
for the baby we didn't know we needed for all of our lives.
We bonded in a new way, with mutual adoration,
over a tiny baby boy, filled with fascination.
We learned greater patience and empathy,
in our little log house made for three.

The economy crashed, times became rough.
Your business was slow, marriage is tough.
Just then, with great timing, along came another boy,
With his laughter and tiny feet and our house full of toys.
With his easy smiles and twinkling eyes,
we found ourselves laughing in the hardest of times.

The cat died, the horses are gone, for that we feel sorrow,
But with hope and hard work, there will be brighter tomorrows.
Here we will thrive, kids and gardens growing tall,
We focus on the happy, we relish in the small.
Mixed in with many joys, we've had sadness and strife.
But when we stand side by side, I know we can conquer this life.

You and I.

The years have changed us, that much is true.
We are older. We lack sleep. Yet I still love you.
For the past years, I thank you and offer my hand,
so we can move forward, together, in more love.
There will also be cookies. It will be grand.


Love, Johi

*I'm obviously not a poet.

I dedicate this song to Year Number Six~ "the year of more love...and more money too, because that would be nice."





I love you.
Happy Anniversary Brock. Thank you for walking beside me in this journey.

Love Wins.


Photo from the first year of our marriage by Dennis Line