Glitch, the Prose Version

It is official. There is a Mr. and a Mrs. Mitch. They both said yes. And then they kissed. And then there were pictures. And food. And cake. And dancing. And glow-ria sticks. And sparklers. And watching of Mitch's back as he raced off to his honeymoon in a Mercedes driven by a 16 year old chaufer with a cap. I almost checked for skid marks.

Here are a few highlights of the Event of the 21st Century:

Highlight #1

Having a swig of red wine before attending the temple. Thursday, His Lady Gloria Tibbitts went to the temple for the 1st time. Prior to the temple visit, the hotel I was staying at was having BBQ night. I was by myself and went through the line with the other hotel guests. At the beverage counter, I passed on the beer and went straight for the red wine. I thought the carafe with purple liquid in it was grape juice. I didn't make the connection until it was in my mouth. Classic Mommacita manuever. (one must refrain from any embibing if one expects to enter any temple.) I know what you are thinking. OF COURSE I spit it out. In front of my newly pregnant daughter in law Jenny (who arrived in the nic of time, spit wise). I'm sure the mother-in-law-gross-o-meter went off the scales for her. Right after the swig I was filled with fear and dread that I would have to sit by Gloria's mother and she would smell my al-kie breath. Good Grief.

Highlight #2:

Having a swig of red wine before attending the temple. I now know that I do not have a taste for wine out of a box or probably any wine at all. Case closed. I highly recomend ice water as your beverage of choice. Cool. Refreshing. Doesn't taste like Easter Egg dye.

Highlight #3:

Strawberry crepes at the Tibbitts home Thursday night. Mine was made by His Lady Gloria Whats Her Name and she put everything on it: Fresh Strawberries, Nutella, whipped cream, sugar, the works. I must say the Nutella was a delightful taste sensation in a strawberry crepe. Deeeeeeeeelish. And did you catch the part about my daughter in law serving me? I'm a lucky ducky.

Highlight #4

We had a dinner with the two families on Friday night. Delicious seafood. I had everyone introduce themselves. When it was Tim's mom's turn, she talked about Mitch, told stories, said her grandchildren were perfect, but what brought the house down was when she mentioned Tim and then she pointed/gestured/swept her arm to the ceiling. I thought my kids were going to bust open. Dubers however, was wishing that she had tapped on her chest before she did it. Yo Yo Yo granma-ma. Insert rappy hand gesture here.

Highlight #5:

The Tibbitts family. Cool. Refreshing. Much like my drink of choice. And aren't they pretty? Gloria's mom is wonderwoman: Made the dress. Made the flower girl's dress. Made everything so pretty pretty pretty.

Highlight #6:

Me at the reception: Mitch are you happy?

Mitch at the reception: Yes mom. I'm HAPPY. Then he threw in a She's Pretty. In that dreamy I just got married voice.

Highlight #7:

The Tibbitts' wondered if our family required our children to marry a "certain look". Think Arian Nation. I was asked several times: Did you have a required standard that your children had to marry? I'm sorry, but I was looking around at them and who are they to talk?

Arian Tibbitts Nation

If only Matt could have been there. He's our Baheemath Blonde, that crushes all other blondes to smithereenes. There were however no statements alluding to the fact that my children marry themselves. Coloradoians are polite. That will come later, here, on the home court. Can't wait.

Let me practice my laugh: Ha Ha Hee Hee Ho Ho. Whatever.

Highlight #8:

This is hardly a highlight. I am now double booted. I got to wear 2 boots on my feet. I went to the Dr. right before leaving, and the fracture in my foot is healing, however not yet all the way. Xrayed the other foot because of similar pain. Not quite broken but getting ready to break. Getting ready? I look, walk, and might as well talk like Frankenstein now. I wore both the boots on the plane, but left one off Thursday, Friday, and by Saturday my good foot was a swollen painful mess. I had to wear 2 to the reception. I'm committed to 2 boots now. I'm an embarrassment to the Arian Nation.


Highlight #9:

Seeing Eric, Cheri, Kennedy, and Harrison Koford at the reception. They live in Missouri now. They freaked out the Tibbitts' a little when they were at the guest book:

Gloria's Mom:"Do you know who that is?"

Gloria's Dad: "No, do you know who that is?"

Gloria's Mom: "No, do you know who that is?"

Gloria's Mom and Gloria's Dad together: "Someone we don't know is coming to your wedding Gloria."

I look up and it's the Kofords. The darling darling Kofords. I cried. Eric was Tim's 1st assistant in the priest quorum when he was bishop, and when he grew up and got married, we used to go to a BYU football game every year together. My kids mobbed them as soon as they were spotted. So appreciated their coming... Love them!

Highlight #10:

My kids are all married. I'm feeling a lighthearted, happy and gay (in the old timer old fashioned sense of the word...). I know bliss can't last, but I'd be stupid if I didn't enjoy it for a few minutes. YEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!

PS. Thank you Diana for the use of your home. You are a true seester.

I Know You've Been Waiting for This

Here they are ladies and gentlemen, fresh as a purple daisy from the Denver Temple, announcing America's newest newlyweds: Mr. and Mrs. Glitch.

How pretty are these two?

And here's what they will look like in 4 years

(and no, this is not an announcement or a plea for grandchildren. It is purely for comic relief. and aren't they cute?):

And here is the groom with his Dear Sweet Grandmother just after she slipped him some Fruit Flavored Trident gum so he could have fruity fresh breath for later on. I'm not so sure that's a good thing, but whatever.And here is a hair shot. The groom has benefited from those biweekly hairclub for men visits and the bride's is tastefully lovely. Notice french braiding above bun. Tres Chic Glo, Tres Chic.

Here are some sweet sweet babes. 5 to be exact.
Glo's backyard garden party. with CAKE! This picture doesn't really show it, but the reception decor was FAB. The prettiest I have ever seen. The flowers were STUNNING. And the food was ever so tasty. Did I mention the cake?
First dance as Glitch. Drunken bridesmaids in background. JUST KIDDING.
Jake acting filly sunny. C'mon. You can get this. silly funny.
I removed daz bootz for the pictures so I could wear for 10 minutes the shoes I so painstakingly picked out. My sons are ridunkulous. But notice how the temple cooperated with the Glitch color scheme of purple purple purple. So accommodating and gracious. I will definitely go back.

Cue trumpets. And Angel voices. Loud and crescendoing ones. With a cymbal at the end
The producers of this blog would like to thank the Dubes for all these photos.
Art Direction by Jakers. Pretty sure these boys got bored during the picture taking phase.

More Wedding news to come.

You can hardly wait.

SneakBlog

I'm whispering right now. It's June 28th and today Mitch is becoming Glitch for time and all eternity in about 3 hours. I'm whispering because I really shouldn't be blogging right now but I had to check in for my flight tomorrow and I am compulsedtioned.

I just wanted to let you all know I have two das boots now. One for the leftie, one for the rightie. I am officially ridiculous to myself, and to the family of His Lady Gloria Tibbitts. However, flying as a handicapper is muy bein gracias. Silver lining folks, silver lining.

We're having a great time.

Leigh and Jenn have the cutest little baby bumps ever. And Leigh looks like Pamela Lee Anderson wink wink winkity wink.

For Paul, My One and Only Paul

This post is dedicated to a friend of Matt's, (my favorite son in law.) Matt's friend is named Paul and Paul is all alone on a Caribbean island. Poor Poor Paul. Just him and his books and a Caribbean Island and no wife because she is off to a family reunion in the states, and no study buddy, because Matt and Leigh are in Utah for Matt to have a ruptured disc taken care of (Matt's Mother in Law is such a peach...announcing to the world his hippa business. Please oh please don't let this come back to bite me..)

Leigh said to give Paul a shout out, because ladies and germs, HE READS MY BLOG. Paul you are my favorite, because you read this blog. You know how people stalk blogs?

Well news flash: Mommacita stalks readers.

Paul, this post is just for you:

Here are some delightful tips for anyone that finds themselves living alone.

Tip#1: Get to know your TV guide. You and your TV guide will now have a relationship. (When you read that last sentence Paul, you say 'relationship' in a singy songy voice. Don't question me Paul. I'm right.)

Tip #2: Eat whenever you feel like it. I'm not saying stuff your face all the time, I'm saying you don't have to have dinner at 6:00 sharp. This might be great only if you are the one that has made sure dinner was on the table at 6:00 every night for 26 years. If that is the case Paul, then you will feel quite liberated.

Tip#3: Eat in front of the TV. (see tip#1) You will love love love eating in front of the TV. It is the best because you can't hear yourself chew or swallow. And that makes for better gastronomic success in the long run. wink wink

Tip #4: Go to bed when you want. This is fun, and you have to take the fun parts of living alone and RUN with them.

Tip #5: You can go a day without making your bed and no one will know. Or care. I suggest, however, that you don't become a total slob. You will have to sleep in your bed at night, and you know that you love a comfy bed.

Tip #6: Watch an episode of the Gilmore Girls each night before you fall asleep. After your prayers of course. This will help you to not notice your aloneness. Even though this is a girlie show, and most men think they talk too fast on that show, you need to give it a chance Paul. You will glean a lot of good lines that you can use in witty conversation in your dreams and the next day at med school. You will dazzle. Again. Trust.

Tip #7: If you must read in bed, all books, magazines, pens, pencils, scripture marking pencils, reading glasses and the like can be kept on the side of the bed that no one sleeps in. This is highly convenient. I thought I was becoming a weirdo by doing this, but then I saw the movie "Dan in Real Life" and I noticed right away that the character played by the guy that plays Michael on the "Office" did it too. This is evidence of universal behavior and must be embraced. Those of you out there not living alone, if you are feeling yourself start to judge, why don't you try to celebrate diversity once in awhile???? No. I am not sensitive at all.

Tip #8: Buy lots of underwear, and then you only do laundry hardly ever. OK. I admit it. I don't do this. I just threw this in because I know you are a guy and you'd probably like it.

Tip #9: Maybe throw in a can of cashews by the books, magazines, etc. on the bed. You never know when you might need a little protein.

Tip #10: If you start to feel lonely, then say to yourself 3 times, "You are my destiny". This will make you laugh at yourself and you will think you are so funny that you love to be around yourself. Then you say to yourself, "Aren't you the funny girl/guy that I get to live with" and then you say "Yes, yes why yes I am" and then you look in the mirror and think "That person is ridiculous I've got to get out of here." and then you go get the TV guide. OK. This tip isn't the best. But I can see it working. Just try it and let me know how it goes.

Any mirror will do Paul

Good Luck Paul. You can do it. I just know you can. And thanks for your undying support.

PG-13. This is PG-13. I'm Sorry, But it Is.

I really have no right to complain. I have so much that is great in my life. But I am compulstioned. Pretty sure that's not a word, but whatever. Every week I go into denial about it. Every week I dread it as it comes closer and closer. Saturday night I get the jitters about it. Sunday morning I play games in my head with it.

I have 8:30 church. You know that's bad. I hate it. Not church. The 8:30 part.

I don't have any little kids to bathe or dress or feed. I don't have any teenagers that I have to squirt with a squirt bottle to get them out of bed for church. (One of the girls in my class told me today that her dad had squirted her with a squirt gun this very morning because she was ignoring him about getting up. She thought he was outrageous, and I was ever so sympathetic. There was almost hugging involved.)

I don't have morning sickness. I'm not up in the night with little ones. I don't have distractions. There is no excuse. But I still hate it. And I'm not the only one. When I have houseguests, and they ask what time church is, and I tell them, the light just drains right out of their eyes and they always groan a little groan of self pity. So stop being judgey.

I'm not a morning person. Sometimes when I get to church I try and joke with people and say I need coffee in the morning, which I think is full of hilarity since we don't drink coffee but no one ever laughs. Except me in my own head. It's because it's too early to be all dressed up and laugh simultaneously.

Part of the reason that I don't like early church is the long afternoon it affords. I have solved that problem by coming home and putting on a fresh nightgown and gently laying my head on my temperpedic pillow with the satin pillowcase made just for me. Earlier, when I am teaching the girls their church lesson, sometimes my mind wanders a wee bit and thinks, hmmmmm, in 25 minutes I will be on the temperpedic pillow. Then I smile, and they think I'm smiling at them because I love them so much. They smile back. but I imagine they are thinking of their pillows too because my lessons aren't all that special. Until they are over and it is pillow time.

Today, I came home from church and I got myself all situated on my especially for me pillow, and I start hearing fingernails and toenails in the ceiling over the french doors of my bedroom. That would be a scurrying around and scritchity scratchity noise. As you can imagine, my muscles became tense. Real tense. I get out of bed and hobble over to the doors because I have no boot on my broken broken foot, (work with me here, the story is better if you feel sorry for me...I don't know what I will blog about when the boot comes off...) and I open the door and step one foot outside on the deck and look up. There is a screened vent for the roof above those doors. Dust and debris were flying out of that screen like no body's business. It was as if there was a fan in there blowing junk out onto my head.

I shut the door right before or right after my heart attack. I can't recall which. But I think Mr. Fluffy Tail is up to no good in my ceiling. And I don't think he is alone. This pretty much substantiates my previous theory about him kissing femmininas. And I'm pretty sure that you can do the math and imaging what else. My attic has been defiled.

I am so done with wildlife.

Goodbye UlaRae

I have a friend and neighbor of 28 years, whose mother died yesterday morning. I hope she does't mind if I mention her mother on this public forum. As you can see, her mom was a pretty lady, who passed her good genes down to her daughters, her granddaughters and her greatgranddaughters. She had 7 children, 32 grandchildren and 26 greatgrandchildren. For a woman in these modern times, it sometimes is overlooked what a grand contribution to society being a mother is. I look at her family, and I think to myself: here is a woman who made the world a better place.

As for me, the thing I will remember about UlaRae is that she provided me with chocolate in our lean years. Back in the 80's, She had connections all over the place, and at church she would hand out what she called a "hot sheet". The 'hot sheet' had all these deals for food in bulk that we could purchase through her, (this was before the Costco days). Oh, there were always things like a big ol' discounted bag of flour or sugar on there, but I really only looked at the 'hot sheet' because there was always some kind of chocolate on it. One month it was chocolate stars, one month it was M&M's, one month milk chocolate chips, and one month dark chocolate chips. Without exception, at Christmas there was dipping chocolate on the 'hot sheet'. Always chocolate in every mother's pantry, because of UlaRae. She did this task as a service. She never took a dime of profit for all the organizing, purchasing and delivering she did.

Today I found myself ironing her burial clothes as a favor to my friend, and as I was performing this task, I started thinking of UlaRae. I realized that UlaRae's mothering skills produced a lifelong friend for me, a life long friend who was also an excellent and wise mother for my children's playmates. The value of that in the life of my family is immeasurable. So Ula Rae, Thanks for making MY world a better place, and really and truly, thanks for all the chocolate. I ate it when life got hairy, and then things were better.

Is Less Really More?

I have a squirrel that runs back and forth on the fence of my back yard all day long. I told my grandaughter Gracie about him. I said, "What shall I name him?" She said, "How about Mr. Fluffy Tail?" Mr. Fluffy Tail it is.

This is my attempt at a shorter blog post.

Question: Would you rather read a post that blathers ON and ON and ON about something ridiculous, or would you rather read something equally ridiculous that doesn't take up your whole afternoon and just get it over with? Rest Assured, they both will waste your time.

Mr. Fluffy Tail is famous, and has adventures, (like kissing the femmininas) but you will never know, because of the short post.

Mommacita's Favorite Things Summer Issue

If Oprah gets away with this, so can I. And everyone in the audience gets free stuff. Whatever my favorite thing is, you, the audience will get it for free!

( Mommacita, you are dang impressive)

Favorite Summer Thing #1:

Ice

I know I know. You're thinking: Whoo Hoo Wee Hee big stinking deal. Ice. She likes ice. And because she promised me free presents of her favorite things, now I'm getting free ice. Everyone knows about ice. She's dumb. (just so we're on the same page here, nobody is getting anything free. That was fake) So anyway, I've just discovered ice. Really, truly, I've just discovered ice. I like ice. I like STORE bought ice in my beverages now. It's delish. And no one can take that away from me no matter how boring it is. Moving right along:

Favorite Summer thing #2:

This brush

This little number is Mac Brush #179, and it is big and fluffy and I am using it to put on this:

Summer Favorite Thing #3:

Don't see anything? That's because the picture I downloaded of Mac Leg Sheen is full of errors. and it won't do it's thing. But if you have pasty white legs just like mine, and have tried multiple self tanners (in an effort to remove the blinding glare in effort to show charity to your fellow man) and they streak or are THE WRONG COLOR even though you have exfoliated TWICE then this is for you. It even looks good on toes and feet (a problem area wouldn't you agree?). The brush enables a smooth and even color. (And applying it is like painting a picture for you art lovers out there) It washes off with soap and water, but will not stain your clothes. And best part? Instant gratification. As soon as you put it on, bingo. You are tan. It is loverly. I brush it on right above my boot, and so when I take off my boot, I have a boot farmer's tan.

Kidding. That's twice I've suckered you in this blog.

Summer Favorite Thing #4

Green Leaf Lettuce by these folks This bag o'lettuce is the best bag o'lettuce I have ever tried. I buy it at Costco, and it comes all washed and it tastes like lettuce, and the leaves are all separated and it's just the nicest bag 'o' lettuce a widow lady could ever want. I will warn: It is a BIG bag'o'lettuce. It takes up major space in the frig. BUT, You don't have to wash it in bleach water. That last comment was a jibjab at YOU Leigh who NEVER blogs. Oh you read everybody else's, but do you return the favor?

Summer Favorite Thing #5

Leigh's Belly. I saw it on SKYPE today. It's the cutes and it has a baby in it.

My blogs are too long. Don't lie, I've looked at the other blogs, and mine go on for ever and ever and it embarrasses me. I was also going to highlight grape tomatoes, because I'm really into those at the moment, and dark chocolate covered jojos (like oreos only better) from Trader Joes but I don't have the energy and I'm hungry now and my blogs always go too long. So all you summer lovers out there, all 4 of my readers, you go treat yourself to some of Mommacita's Summer Favorites. And think of me. Especially every time you have ice. Obviously, I'll take any attention I can get.

Mommacita and the Awful Terrible No Good Bad Day

Get this.

Today I stop at a Shell Station to purchase Shell Station stuff.

I'm inside the little shop that has the twinkies and honey roasted nuts. That's not what I bought. I'm paying. There are two creepy employees, just out of the penitentiary. You know the type, the kind with too many tats, shifty eyes, and sporatic facial hair.

Creepy Employee: Mahame?

Me:

Creepy Employee: Maaaahaaame?

Me: (Am I Mahame?) Yes?

Creepy Employee: You have a bug goin' down your shirt there. (eyes look at my shirt and what's in it and going down it (not that there's anything that great going on in my shirt (frankly, I have seen better days) but truth be told I felt somewhat conspicuous so maybe I imagined the part I just told you. Not that I wanted that to be happening, because believe me I did NOT. ))

Me: (look down. A sort of beetley type bug is headed down my cleavage along my sunglasses that are stuck there. Does Creepy Employee have this view? THAT was my first thought.)
Ack! Ack! Ewe! Ick! Ack! Ahh! Eeee! OOO! ACK! EWE! OUI! YIKES! COUGH! SPUTTER! SPIT!(jump jump dance hop wiggle shuffle jump stomp stomp) (I have just moved every possible body part in front of two ex cons.)

Creepy Employee: he he he he

I pay, I give him the wrong amount, he corrects me, I give him the right amount, I forget to get my change, I have to go back and get my change after I'm half way out the door, (I am DISTRACTED) Creepy Employee is still he-he-he-ing me. Yep. I'm hilarious Creepy Employee. I drive 30 minutes to my Mother in Law's House.

I run to the restroom to rest. As I am sitting there resting, pulling off a few squares of Charmin, I look at the floor and I see the same bug that went down my cleavage, frantically scuttling across the floor as fast as it can. That was one stressed bug that had been trapped in my top for the better part of an hour. And because of being confined to one particular spot, my bug smashing bootie foot (try as it might) could not stretch quite far enough to reach it. I could have fallen. Please do not visualize.

Today, I was thrice creeped out. Maybe even more

This post is true, and the saddest truest part is that no bugs were hurt in the making of this post.

Das Est Goot Fraus and Fralines

Tonight I had an activity with the 14 and 15 year old girls at church. I'm standing here before you, right now, admitting the truth. I was dragging my feet something awful. The activity was to go to the high school and watch the upper German classes put on "The Little Mermaid" all in German. Seriously? The girls were dying to go. You're with me right? Doesn't that activity sound like a root canal? I knew it was going to be hot in the Pantheon, I knew it was going to be drudgery, ridiculously boring, and especially since I didn't have a child in it (heck, I didn't even KNOW anybody in it) what on this big green earth was I thinking putting myself through "The Little Mermaid" in bad German by High School students? (Like it matters that it was bad German....)

So I took a very large water bottle and trudged off to the High School with the girls. The last thing I said to Glynnis, (my friend and the other leader) as the lights were going out, was: "Hey, maybe we can close our eyes and put on a fake smile and rest a little during this."

Well kids, color me pleasantly surprised. It was FUN. It was FUNNY. I laughed a LOT. Those teenagers were so clever, yet ridiculous, and although it was all in German, the costumes, sets, and props were full of sass o frass. This is a generation that was raised on DVD's, (it's all about influences baby) and although they incorporated the Hans Christian Anderson story, you could definitely see the Disney language breaking through. (Ursela's eels were my favorites. Two twin brothers played them...they were dressed in black tights and turtlenecks with their arms trapped in, and they had used black duct tape all over bike helmets to form eel snouts. They moved in unison... twin simpatico... so funny!)

I love the teenage mind, how fresh and silly and sassy it is. To see it tapped and pushed in a positive way was an absolute delight. Viva los Viva los Viva los TEENAGERS!!!! I hope Cold Play writes a song about funny German speaking teenagers and puts colorful special effects with the song and acts real cool when they sing it and advertises it on TV over and over and over again so everyone will download it. And I hope all funny German Speaking Teenagers get the royalties. That would be cool.

I went to Walmart to get more bags for my foot. When I walked in the greeter offered me a motorized shopping cart. I didn't even make eye contact. There were two carts sitting there. PLEEEEEENTY for everyone.

Two thoughts:

1. Do I look that pitiful?

2. If I start zipping around in one of those, I will see at least 10 people I know. (just like when you go to the store without showering or makeup.)

It's never fun to realize you fear being mocked in Walmart.

Free Time with Options

The Institute Class that I teach is out for the summer. Last week, at this very moment, I was hunkered down with books and scriptures and larning stuff. For the next few months, on Mondays, I'm free, I'm free, I'm free. On Monday and Tuesday morning at least. So I'm trying to decide what I might do with the extra time since I'm free I'm free I'm free.

Option #1:

Sleep. I wanted to put a great picture here, of a beautiful woman who looks exactly like me, with her hair splayed out all over the pillow in a cinderella fashion, long lashes brushing against the cheek of pinkish hue. However the only sleep pictures I could find I had to pay for. And I'm not paying for this blog to continue.

Option #2:

Learn more about these two.

OK. Settle down, I'm kidding. I was at the foot Dr. this morning and they were in a magazine. I had forgotten they existed. These two girls scare me. Now that I look at them starring at me from my blog, I'm questioning whether or not I want to taint my blogosphere with them. Someone give them a t-shirt, would you? And a mirror. And a makeup remover towelette. And some shampoo. And a comb. And a snack.

Option#3:

Continue my bulemic shopping for a Mother of the Groom Costume for the wedding. I buy, I return. I buy, I return. I buy, I return. I've done it with jackets, skirts, tanks, shoes, earrings, you name it, I've done it. I've purchased and regurgitated. Upstairs in my room I have two pairs of the exact same shoe. My dresser has 4 pairs of shoes on it, all auditioning themselves for me, as if they were in the shoe department of the store. Pick me! Pick me! I'm not sure if the internet and free shipping has made my life easier or more complicated.

Option #4:

Plant more purple flowers. There are zillions. They are multiplying at night when I sleep (looking like Cinderella with pinkish hue). Last week I wrapped my broken foot in a walmart bag and went out in the rain and planted almost 5 dozen. Didn't make a dent. Cue sad violins. Or white trash music. You choose. This is how I felt planting and dragging around the Walmart bag on my foot:

Option #5

Figure out how to tell the bride and groom that since seeing the foot Dr. this morning I found out I might be dragging my honkin' booty-cast and 1 really nice shoe (not sure which one yet, but it will be only one) to their wedding. If it rains, I may double bag. More white trash music. Crank up the volume. And hand me that pencil so I can black out my front tooth.

Think pinkish hue

P. S. I apologize for having the Olsen twins and Andrew Wyeth in the same blog post.

Bad Taste. In My Mouth.

This is not a funny blog. This is a mad as a hornet blog.

Today I went to a quilting class at a quilt shop that is not in my town. I bought all the fabric at said quilt shop. I bought a special ruler for the class at said quilt shop. I drove 40 miles to get to said quilt shop to attend the class. (Gas Money People, Gas Money). I paid 45 bucks for the class. There were 8 women there. That's 360 bones that Karen, quilt shop owner made just on the fee, not to mention the fabric everyone bought at her store........which would have been hundreds of dollars.

Karen collects money from everyone for lunch and takes orders and runs out to pick up lunch for everyone. Very nice of her I think. As I am eating my taco salad, (which was in a container that was almost as big as a 9x13 pan...I don't know why but it was) I hear her say: "No one is to throw any of their food garbage away in the store's garbage can. If you have food garbage (such as a 9x13 pan with taco salad drippings in it?) then you have to take it home with you and throw it away there. I don't have any garbage service here, and I'm not taking it home."

I rode up with my friend in her very nice Acura. I cringe and think: "What if my gooey garbage leaks in her nice car? I have no bag to put it in. So this 9x13 pan is just going to float around in her Acura with her 9x13 pan and we're just going to hope and pray that neither one of them tip over and get salsa or sour cream or goo on the carpet of her car? Sour cream will really stink up her car for good. Or wait. Maybe in order to save the interior of the car, I will have to HOLD the garbage on my lap for 40 miles, smelling it (after it has sat around for 4 hours) wrenching all the way home. It will leak on me now instead. I'm not so down with that idea. This is so very awkward. Is she serious? Tell me she's not serious."

After Karen's announcement, the room goes silent. Then I hear a timid voice behind me say "Are you SERIOUS?" I felt like applauding. Standing ovation even.

Apparently Karen was serious. She was having nothing to do with our garbage. Apparently it was more appropriate for us to bundle up our stinky lunch garbage that had been sitting in the sewing room with us for 4 HOURS and put it in our cars with us and drive 40 miles with it, so we would not burden The Speckled Hen with it. Heaven Forbid.

PEOPLE. What has happened to service? I'm serious here.

If The Speckled Hen were my quilt shop, and I was hosting 8 really nice women for the day, (8 really nice women that I had made a bunch of money off of) and my shop didn't have garbage service, then the 8 really nice and beautiful women would have been able to take throwing out their lunch trash for granted. I would have gone and gotten a garbage bag and filled it with every one's stinky lunch garbage and I would have put it in my own car to take to my own home rather than causing all that awkwardness and displeasure.

The customer is always right. Service with a Smile. What has happened to these values?

My heartfelt thanks go to Taco Bell, who let us throw away our trash when we went inside to purchase a beverage. I will return to Taco Bell for any future beverage purchases....again and again.

As to you Speckled Hen: you and I? We're done. Voting with my feet here.

Multifaceted Abnormal

First of all, that picture is not me. I do not have a camera. The person in the picture DOES have their pajama pants on. I could not, nor did I search for a person with their pajama pants off.

Digging a hole here. Please continue.

Last night I was laying in bed watching my 1 episode of Gilmore Girls that I allow myself each night. Lorelori and Rory are my multifaceted abnormal family, and we kiss each other good night every evening. Rory used the term multifaceted abnormal in this episode to describe Loreli, and, well, because of what had just happened, it got me thinking. I too, am living the multifaceted abnormal life. And this my friends and family, is a clear illustration of that fact:

I got out of bed to start writing this blog. That is wrong on so many levels, the first being I had no pajama pants on because earlier I got up to go get a drink, and when I came back to my bed and TV, I sat down on a tube of hydrocortosone cream that didn't quite have the lid snapped on. As a result I found myself wallowing around in a big ol' dollop of hydrocortsone cream.

Before this unfortunate event occurred, I was naively making sure that I was doing a very good job of sitting on the bed, fluffing pillows, squishing down into the mattress, and snuggling in. Unbeknownst to me, hydrocorozone creme had squirted all over the place. It made me laugh out loud. LOL as the kids are saying now days. I know it's not funny to you, but to me it was the equivalent of 50 clowns pouring out of a tiny car, which really isn't all that funny either, but it is all I can think of at the moment.

Anyway, the more I tried to clean it up, the more it was seeming to travel (a rear end is a very large vehicle) ...from the tube, to the side of the tube, to the sheets, to my pajamas, to the quilt, to my fingers, down my hand, and don't forget: in cases like this it is required to drop it on the carpet... This experience quickly turned into an episode of I Love Lucy. Abnormal, yes?

I think my rear end forced 1/2 of the hydrocortizone cream out of the tube, and that is not only a facet of abnormal, but a little humiliating as well. It was a brand new tube, (dag nab it to the power of 3). A brand new tube all over my jammiepants and sheets and hands and carpet and the rag I'm trying to sop it up with. This experience tends to make a girl feel like her rear end is the biggest, heaviest, most cumbersome item on the face of the earth. (OK, I concede, maybe not that abnormal.)

But, you know that moment that happens right before you actually do the stupid moment? I'm talking about the moment right when you are all innocent and in the dark, happily going along your merry way, thinking all is well, and nothing bad will ever happen to your tube of hydrocortizone cream.

And then boom. There you are with your brand new hydrocortosone tube all half empty with an indentation the size of your left bottom cheek on the lower half of the tube (and the contents of the tube are smearing around from here to eternity because you are one step behind on the direction the smear is choosing to go. Everything your buttock hits leaves a mark.)

Anyway. You know that "right before" moment? That "I'm in the dark" moment? There's something a little abnormal about that moment as well.

Because if you were the star of a movie, and the movie was about you sitting on an open tube of hydrocortizone cream, in the movie there would be suspenseful music playing to warn the people in the audience that harm was going to come to your new tube of hydrocortozone cream.

However you, the star of the movie, would not hear the music and would not pick up on the camera focusing on the innocent and extremely vulnerable hydrocortizone creme tube that happens to be slightly open.

And you, the star of this movie, wouldn't really be aware that the camera is focused on your pajama clad rear end, (wide angle lens needed) and you also wouldn't be aware that the focus of the camera is showing your rear end slowing descending, inch by precious inch on the helpless tube. You, as the star, would be TOTALLY CLUELESS as to the danger that awaits.

Don't you find this abnormal as well? Isn't it abnormal that we aren't aware of the danger, that we can't hear the music, that we don't pick up on the clues? I mean, we're in the room for gosh sakes. We're right there. Right next to it. How is it that we don't pay attention?

In my blog, all roads lead to Tim. (Is that yet another facet of abnormal?...told you I was multifaceted).

Tim didn't complain that much to me about any of the stupid things I did, but I know it drove him nuts when I didn't make sure lids were on tight. Last night I think ol Timmy boy had a very very large goodtime laugh, and he probably ran and turned the suspenseful warning music down as low as it would go, just to make absolutely sure that no one would ever EVER have a chance of hearing it. And then he propped his feet up on his little celestial ottoman that is decorated with basketballs and plays the theme from Sportscenter, and waited for the fun to begin.

You WISH I could be your Mother in Law

Friday I went to the land of bliss. I purchased lots of purpley goodness so I can have even more purpley goodness around for the purpley goodness wedding. His Lady Gloria Tibbitts loves purple. Here's a peek at what's in store:

The Internet said this was called Purple Spring Daisy. That couldn't be right. I think they meant to say "Unbelievably Incredible Purple Spikey Daisy Tipped with Sky Blue

Flower to the Power".

Purple Lobelia: A Crowd Pleaser

SetcreasaPalldo Purple. This one needs a new name too. Mine is green on the top and purple on the bottom. So it should be called GreentopPurpleBottomPalldo. I like the Palldo part.


Petunia. Purplie Whitie Stripie. Sort of reminds me of Aqua Fresh Toothpaste. Fresh breath is very important in a wedding setting. Not just for the bride and groom mind you.




More Lobeliea. With White on it. Because I have white flowers too.



Dahlia. Oh my. I might eat this for dessert.

Osteo Soprano. Must be a girl flower.

Double Purple/White Petunia. I hear these are more work, because you have to pluck the blossoms off to encourage growth, however, I think it is worth it. Wouldn't you agree? I have these also in Deep Dark Velvety Goodness Purple, and Purity Temple White. Yummalicious.

Purple petunia. Not the work, but quite the stunner.

Maybe THESE are the Osteo Soprano. Can't remember, but aren't they cute and happy?

Heliotrope. Smells Great. Oh, you come and walk by them and you will see I'm right. You will breathe in a breath of Heliotrope air and say to yourself: That Mommacita knows what smells good. And by the way, SHE smells good all the time. You KNOW you're thinking that.

Fuchsia. Deep Purple. This is a little picture, but I have a HUGE plant. Let's be honest I may kill this one with my irresponsible ways. In my past, I have been a Fuchsia Killer. But I'm hanging this one in a tree, so I'm giving it another shot. If I can pull off keeping this alive, I will be mighty impressed with Mommacita. I will be a true nurturer. Finally and forever more. Are you not glad to see me have a goal in life again?

Yet again, more Lobelia. Trailing Lobelia, to go with the white geraniums.

Spikey stickey uppey flower. 10 bucks to the person who can name it. But the one I got only has 1 spike. But it may grow more. So I don't know. This is kind of a stupid contest. I wouldn't enter it if I were you.

Last but not least....lobelia. It's the baby's breath of the 21st century.

I also bought 3 Begonias, so I lied about the "Last but not Least" part. I LOVE the vibranty soft luciousness of the mighty Begonia. Those little flowers just give and give and give all summer. And I love them with all my heart for it. I bought a RED, a YELLOW and a very lovely YELLOWY ORANGE one. I will be hiding the Begonia pots from His Lady Gloria Tibbetts when she comes, because I want her to think that it is all about her, which it is (except for the begonias...they do not come in purple, so those were about me.) And with that, I will leave you with this thought: There is nothing nicer and more restful than a purple flower. Except maybe a Begonia, and that is why they should make them in purple'

Imagine non-stop Begonia Purple creating

Mother In Law of the Year Award for yours truly