Conversations With My Favorite Person

Eureka!
Eureka!

Triple Eureka!

I just had a burst of light moment!  It was awesome!  And grapes were involved!

Minding my own business, (lets not kid ourselves here. Just who's business am I going to be a minding??) whilst I was washing a blob of grapes for myself.  (Question:  What is the blob of grapes really called?  Is it cluster?  Is it group?  Is it assortment? )  While washing grapes, I popped one into my mouth and thought:

 "Man, the grapes are REALLY good this summer!!" 

 (Question:  Why do we always say Man when starting a sentence?  Or Boy?  Where are the girls in this expression?  You NEVER hear Girl, or Girlie, or Lady, (Question:  What happened to Jerry Lewis?  Dead or Alive?)  or Woman or Female.  Not even a HeShe.  Just ONCE I'd like to think....

"People-with-ladyparts, the grapes are REALLY good this summer!!"

.....instead of thinking about men all the time.  Ah.  I'm baiting you for a comment, can you feel it?  Can you taste it? Are you all wrapped up in a sparkly bow with it??

Anyway, right after I thought about the grapes being REALLY good this summer, I had this urge to blog about it.  (Question:   "Do you think I might appear a tad geeky for revealing this?"  Question was retorical.  Do not answer, because I don't give a hootie)  

And then my NEXT thought was:

 "Blog about grapes being good?  Are you insane?"

 to which I answered, 

"Well that would be a VERY thin blog Mommacita...there is not NEARLY enough material there."

to which I replied quite harshly:

"That's not a blog you moron, that's a FACEBOOK post."

which stopped me dead in my tracks (Question:  Do you think I'm too harsh with the ones I love?? Did I deserve a more gentle approach, such as "That's not a blog you moron, that's a FACEBOOK post and you look pretty?".)  

Can it be true that the reason I was stopped dead in my tracks is because the subject of Grapes being good is just a facebook post?  A FACEBOOK POST?  

Hmmm

Here's my ah ha moment:  (Question:  Oprah Winfrey....Yes or No? )

I think this blog is nothing more than crap you would read about on facebook.  Pardon my french.  I could do my Question bit and ask you why french and not greek or spanish but I'm on to something here.....

Along with the "I'm cranky today" or the "feeling spiffy" the Mommacita facebook posts very well could have been:

"I went to a funeral today"

"Here are some pictures of cats."
.

"texting olympians is the bomb."

"People who put clothes on their animals need to cover their animal's parts that are usually covered by a swim suit."

"I have dirty little secrets and now YOU get to JUDGE me in the privacy of your own home."

"My son robbed me of graduation and I cursed him and died, (me not him)
.
or
.

"My latest favorite thing is GRAPES!!  Hooray for GRAPES!!"

Now that I think of it, this blog could probably be taken care of on twitter, now that I am hip and squared up with the hashtag situation:

#ifyouseemeinthegrocerystoreandyou'rewearingmickeymousepantsIwillprobablytweetaboutit

I think you get the message.

Blogging, an activity that I have done for more than a couple of years now. (Question:  How much is a couple?  Is it two, more than two?  Because if you add all of the blogs up, the answer might add up to be under one year's worth of blogs, and, wow.    I guess I've just faced this actual fact:   Maybe I exaggerate on this thing??? ) and in that one maybe two years I might have been wasting time?  energy?  exposure on the internet?

So what you're telling me is that this blogging activity could have been an activity that could easily have been condensed down into, say, maybe, 10 minutes total, start to finish?  I could of been concise both with time AND words?

I'm not sure what personality discrepancy I might possess that compels me to go on and on and on about a bunch of grapes, but I just did it and in conclusion I should probably go and sit alone in a closet and eat my hair and never be allowed a rational thought again let alone exposure to a keyboard.  

Those grapes were really good.

#pleasecluemein

Could someone please explain to me what the dickens hashtags are?  Because I have no idea.

Ok.  I have a few ideas.

Like, I think they might have something to do with twittering, or twouting, but I'm not really sure what.  I gleaned this information from Jimmy Falon.  But he didn't explain it, he just acted like I am supposed to know what they are.  I have no clue what they are.  Or how they work.  Or their purpose.  Maybe that's the gig...maybe they don't have a purpose.

I wonder if they have something to do with instagram, and again, I'm not really sure what.  I just know that when people have a photo on facebook, then there are a bunch of hashtags that describe the photo.  Like:  #cuteasabutton    for a picture of their baby wearing a headpiece with buttons and feathers exploding on it.  Is a hashtag a way to identify a photo, like giving a jpeg file a name?  But if that were the case, then why are there so MANY hashtags given to the baby photo with buttons/feathers?  #mylil'featherdancer  #daddyslittlecuteasabutton  #grandmathinksimprecious    And why are the hashtags so LONG sometimes?  I have to really study them and I don't mind saying that I find it cumbersome.

Which leads me to the next wonder.  I wonder if hashtags are really just a way to describe whatever you need to describe at the moment.  Like when Mariah Carrey (and if you have read this freaky thing at all you will remember that Mariah Carrey is my MHCE.  Most Hated Celebrity Ever.)speaks in hashtags to describe a performance:   "Hashtag Amazing".  "Hashtag out of this Universe"  Her words not mine.

Which brings me to my next point which makes me feel like a shriveled up little grannie who knits with her glasses perched on her nose (#ithinkthatsmetheirtalkingabout).  I am slipping off the grid.  And its because I don't know what hashtags are.

My 40 year high school reunion is this summer and I'm not sure I can go because of this hashtag thing.

#allivedonesincethelastoneisknitandsew

#muffintop

#havenothadbotox

#notamillionaire

#saggingskininvariousplacesnottoberevealed

#twentymoretogo

#ihavejustmademyselfalldepressedandpitiful

#shoutoutifhashtagshaveruinedyourlifetoo


On a brighter note, I have discovered a new show on Netflix:  "White Collar".  I'm planning a Memorial Day Weekend Marathon.

#youwillloveit

Portlandia

A few Saturdays back I participated in the Rose City Yarn Crawl.  I wrote this blog right after.  I have put off cleaning up the writing and possibly uploading a pic or two for over a month.  Maybe the pressure of the weekly blog was good for me.  I am not looking for your input here. Let's just all admit it was good for me but we will agree not to go back to the weekly thing because I heart no pressure.

Anyway...

The Rose City Yarn Crawl is not an athletic event.  I would feel more accomplished if it was.  It is a bunch of various types of Northwest women moving very slowly (because they have to finger everything) from  yarn shop to yarn shop.  And this is how it goes:

Groups of said various types of women (and a man or two in a skirt) shuffle in and out of said yarn shops and pick up yarn and cuddle it in the crooks of their necks and coo to it.  Occasionally a squeal is heard when someone finds a particularly perfectly dyed batch of yarn or something soft and yummy that has no itch factor, or a pattern of something wonderful they've never seen before that is in their skill level. ( My skill level is not very high just in case you were wondering because I have just started knitting and I learned off of YouTube.  I have watched several Knitting With Judy's.)

 After the cuddling and the cooing and the squealing have run their course, the groups of various types of women (and the men in the skirts because after all we ARE in Portland where the dream of the 90's is alive,) find the end of the purchasing line.  Said line very nearly  ALWAYS runs through the entry way, the door, and spills out onto the sidewalk where there are even more men in skirts.  Not that there's anything thing wrong with that. 

For those of you who have never been to a yarn crawl (....or is it spelled krawl?....I'm almost certain the universe would dictate it.....) these are the categories of the various types of women you might encounter:

1.  Women who are over 50 and may or may not need someone to flank them on either side while they walk to the store from their parking spot because there are gigantic tree roots under the sidewalks in the Alberta District that might cause a plummeting of someone over 50 that wears Danskos.  Some people are very caring. 

2.  Women who are under 50.  Way under.  Their funky monkey skirts swish back and forth as they walk effortlessly along as if there is a way cool sound track rolling in the background.    One woman had an awesome striped swishy earthy skirt that sadly I would be too old for.  If only I were that artsy earthy Eugeney Grandma and I weighed in the lower hundreds and people thought my daughter and I were sisters with her being the older one.

sigh. 

3.  Women who look like they shop at Macys.

4.  Women who look like they shop out of Grandma's closet who once shopped at Macy's about a hundred fifty years ago.

5.  Women who wear their hair very very short.  With color vibrant and varied in nature. Bear in mind that asymmetry is a must.

6.  Women who wear their hair very very permed.  With hardly any color at all.

7.  Women who wear their hair just right because they all go to the same hairdresser.

8.  Women who bathe regularly.  I'm talking every day when they get up in the morning before they go to anything such as a Yarn Crawl or Krawl in the Rose City. 

9.  Women (and the dudes in the skirts) who have defied their mothers and replace a daily grooming schedule with a daily never groom schedule.  . Their hair stinks I might add, because my nose is just about the height of every ones scalp and I noticed, yes I did.  I may or may not have made a face. 

While the diversity of said various types of women was apparent, especially on the southeast side of the river, I found it quite heartening that I shared a love for fiber, color, and the ways we can fuse them together with people who weren't my age, my shoe size, my religion, my life experience, my income bracket or my grooming schedule. Weird.  So so Weird.

I like knowing I did my part on that sunny sunny Saturday to Keep Portland Weird.

In case you're wondering, you and I are the only two people I know who aren't weird.

 






And, as they say,  I'm a little worried about you.

Things That Could of Been but Kind of Are

I know.  I know.

I tried.

I failed.

I'd like to make a codicil to the handshake agreement that I made with my niece Annie.

Truth be told, I should of made it BEFORE I broke said agreement, but I'm trying to right my wrongs here so don't get in my way.

I'd like to add the following stipulation to our agreement: we don't have to blog every stinking week if there is absolutely NO material that anyone would appreciate. (a blog without a response is not a blog that works people)  But we DO have to blog REGULARLY.  We could quite possibly blog even MORE than once a week.  We could blog whenever, but, whenever has to be regular.  Treat blogging as you would treat bathing.   You want to do it regularly, not infrequent, not every minute either.  Remember Dry Skin at the same time you remember smelly hair. Both undesirable.  You aren't allowed to take blogging out of your life.  OR bathing.  I can't believe I needed to tell you that.  So here's the deal:  You can't take blogging out of your life even if you use up your given writing energies on a weekly email for church.  Or something such as that. 

Maybe I'm in a slump or something.

Exhale.

The following is a list of blog ideas that might have been but, were nixed in my own personal correlation meeting.  These subjects were considered, then flushed.  But now, because I'm trying to get back on the wagon, I  painstakingly suck the ideas back from the place that the flushing sends them to.  Virtual Retrieval if you will.

Idea #1.
Just a minute.  I'm drawing a blank here.

Reason:  Not enough Material.

Idea #2. 
  Yes.  A blog about change.  Like how my hair has gone from stick straight to naturally curly in a matter of months.  I'm sure I'm dying of something.   Tim always used to say that in times such as this and look what happened to him.  Anyway, 1980 called and they want their hairstyle back.  This blog would have included perm pictures.  Not of me.  Because I did not rock the mall bangs (girls in malls wore those sticky uppey bangs) with a side of perm.  Don't get me wrong.  I didn't say I never had a perm.  I said I didn't Rock them.  This idea was rejected because all I ever talk about in blogs is how I look and getting old.  Needed something fresh.  Something hap'nin.

Reason:  Too much vanity.

Idea #3.
 I'd get an idea, and then sit down to do it and it would vanish.  Like right now when I'm trying to remember the ideas and I had a good one and off it flew to be with Gracie the Cat in heaven.


Reason:  Too much use of the old lady theme. Or the heaven theme

Idea #4. 
A where are they now expo-say on people I have previously mocked on here.  But who wants to know more about anyone who wears mickey mouse pants to the grocery store or my inability to control my destiny?

Reason:  Too Shallow.


Idea #5
My friend Carol, or Barol, you choose, reminded me that I was behind in my blogging and suggested I go to Walmart.  Hmmm.  Good idea Carol or Barol!  But ha ha the joke is on me, because I went to Walmart about an hour ago and I didn't care enough to look around at what that kid was crying about.  I DID however have some unpleasantness in the parking lot (no spots) and walking into the store (pouring rain and some wind.  I WAS however protected by my Metropolitan Museum of Art Umbrella that gives me great joy every time I use it.  You TOO can have an umbrella such as this if you go to their website)

Reason #!  Too Whiny about rain. Which is just too easy.
Reason #2  Too Overdone.

Idea #6.
 An Addendum to the Mommacita Favorite Thing Series that includes my yummy yummy umbrella.  Its the black on black if you must try and be like me.  Which you totally can, I'm not like that at all.

Reason:  Too Narcissistic

Idea #7
An unfortunate gastro-intestinal experience, which by the way will NEVER be spoken of on this or any publication.

Reasons #1,2,3,4,5 Respectively
 Too Much Information
Too Gross
Too unreal
Too pitiful
Too much laughing at me personally

Idea #8.
An experience that happened with a grandchild that immediately following the experience I was forbidden (in no uncertain terms) to use for blog fodder.  My initial reaction was Gee,some people have no sense of humor.  But then Idea #7 happened to me and a piece of my sense of humor was carved off of my SOUL by the person in the universe who does that sort of thing and I've never been the same since.  But I get it now.

There are limits people.

Even if you laugh so hard you want to have your sides surgically removed and you plainly don't care if they take part of your sense of humor as well.

So Yeah.

Reason:  Too Exposing to the entire universe.


I look at this list collectively.

I gather in the data.

I am not sure of the purpose of this thing anymore.
Who am I?
Where do I come from?
Where am I going?

Yes.
You are correct sir.
This is definitely a slump.

Because they're not coming to any reunions.....

You might have to copy and paste, but trust me, it will be worth your while.  These kids are too perfect.  All 4 of them.  And please withhold your Arian nation cracks.  I already know they're blondies. 


http://danicanelsonphotography.com/2013/01/g-family-st-louis-family-photographer-2/ 

PS  I hope it's OK with Larsa and Dubers I put this on here....It was already online :)

What's My Deal?

Could the thing that is wrong with me quite possibly be that while everyone else is gathering their thoughts together and deciding how they can improve in 2013 I am posting a video about  a Siberian woman (with a very lovely makeup job and headpiece fit for a bride) who houses a billion stray cats which should never be confused with postage stamps and feeds them like chickens?  Which then leads me to a video about a guy who stuck over 2000 toothpicks in his musty beard?  Why does this kill me?  Why do I like to be killed?  Could that possibly be what my deal is?  That I like to be killed?

I mean really.

What's my deal? 

I wander through my simple life.  I observe.   Then I ponder.  Then I take the observations and twist them all around with pondering so I can kill myself.  Then I write it on here.  Then I check for comments.The formula is simple, people.  But the overtones are killer.  The wrong kind of killer.

I'm telling you right here, and right now, this is the oddest behavior I know.  I'm observing it right now and I'm killing myself  because I can't help but ask myself:  Is my observing and then pondering and then writing and then waiting, really another person's 1000's of stay cats or toothpicky beards?  Is that my deal?  Am I a circus freak and I don't know it?  Am I a circus freak to a circus freak?  Because, if you think about it, a circus freak has to have people of their own that they observe and ponder and write about that are odd enough to classify as their own personal circus freak despite the fact that they OWN the definition of circus freak.  And I really wanted to put an exclamation point on that  last sentence but I was afraid that I might seem too freaky for even a freak of a circus freak.

So Yeah.  I think THAT'S my deal. 

And I'm just going to have to live with it.

Because (and I am ashamed to admit this) if I set another goal to try and use my time wisely in 2013  I just might die but I won't be killed if you know what I mean.
 

Attention: TLC

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3hhCh9t-bI&feature=youtu.be&a

And that ladies and gentlemen, is how it is done.

Because somehow, I always knew that it was.

grinchie mcGrinchster

If your're looking for a lovely little feelgood blog this Christmas eve, keep browsing sista friend.  (Not to offend, but do men read this thing?)

Here are the following experiences that must be read and flushed away because I am really diabolically opposed to sending a negative vibe into the universe.  Could I tell you all about the wonderful heart warming things that have happened this month?  Why yes.  Yes I could.  But you would be bored.  Tim's first rule of happiness was never be bored.  Which is why I spelled it with and 'i' like Will Smith.  Or did he use a Y?  I don't know.  See?  Not boring.

Grinchness # 1.

I flew to St. Louis for the Duber Graduation from St. Louis Orthodontic School.  It was both exciting and fun.  (but not delicious.  Larssa called the chicken a salt lick.  I agreed.  McGrinch.)  I was taking great care to look my best on my son's big night.  I know I promised to never mention them again, but when I brought out one of my favorite things to draw the hair above my eyes, I panicked to find that my hair drawing tool was EMPTY.  McGrinch.  I was going to embarrass my son in front of all his little friends because I would have no hair above my eyes. (still keeping good on that promise to never mention the word _ _ _ -_ _ _ _ again. )  I was saved by a knock off by Maybelline purchased at Walgreens but all evening I suffered from _ _ _-_ _ _ _ insecurity.  Which is the deepest form of not being secure with oneself.  McGrinch.

Grinchness #2

I traveled to Denver with the Graduates.  My grandson was on an ANTI grandma kick probably because he was all souped up about the move.  It might have been the Walgreen _ _ _-_ _ _ _s.  McGrinch.

Grinchness #3

I stayed with Timotee's sister in Denver, and she and her husband were SO NICE (there was an open kitchen there, and for a Mormon, that is akin to an open bar) As I was driving off to go to the airport to fly out we get a phone call.  I had left my cosmetic bag in the bathroom.  Guess what might have been in it?  Yes.  _ _ _-_ _ _ _ drawing tools amongst other necessities such as deodorant and dental hygiene supplies.  McGrinch.  I got to ride to the airport in a Mini Cooper.  NotMcGrinch.  Very zippy.

Grinchness #4

This one is the worst of all, and the impetus for this post.  All the other things I'm obviously stretching.  Anyway, at the Denver Airport, the security line was Huge.  I've never seen one so long.  McGrinch.  But thanks to minicooper driver, who suggested I go earlier, I had plenty of time.  I walk to my spot in line and right behing me is cell phone guy.  Lets call him CPG from now on.  So CPG is talking on his phone.  Nice and loud
     "Yeah.  I've had a hard time getting home.  Spent a night in Topeka then here.  Yeah. Yeah Yeah, Laugh.   Here's my tip for the day... "Never fly at Christmas Time."  Yeah.  Thats my big tip for the day.  Yeah." etc.

He then hung up and called another person.  Conversation was identical.  THen another person.  Then another.  Same convo.  This went on for infinity.

The loud speaker came on and asked everyone to join the Denver airport in a moment of silence to honor all of the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary School.  The entire airport whirrs to a complete stop.  No talking, no Christmas music, no kids yelling , no shoes or luggage clicking on the tile...just silence.  Except for you guessed it.  1,000's of tired travelers, little kids, babies, employees, foreigners, ... everybody.  Everybody on the planet except for Cell Phone Guy was showing respect with their silence.

All I could hear was "Yeah.  Here's My Tip for The Day...Never fly at Christmas" And THE LAUGH.  as if,

McGrinch

I was annoyed beyond belief. 

More McGrinch.

So to You, Cell Phone Guy, Employee of FedTex4, with your little FedTex4 jacket on and yes I made a point of looking so I could put it in here.... to you...nice work.  I'll always treasure your tip of the day and it will forever be an anthem of Grinchiee McGrinsterhood forever and ever more.

Now Gimme some eggnog I need some cheer.

Um, There's More

I have memory issues.  I was going to put the following items on my favorite things list but it slipped my mind last night.  In fact, the very next sentence I want to write right here is slipping my mind.  And the sentence after that. And that.  Infinity.

I put brand new, freshly laundered sheets on my bed yesterday.  I had trouble getting out of them because

A.  So Comfy
B.  So Cute.

Dying to see them?

Mommacita's Favorite Thing #7

These are the softest sheets ever.  I found them at TJ Max. Unfortunately that makes me a Maxinesta.  Which is a big fat Yikes.  They feel like sheets that have been washed a zitillion times, yet the thread count is only 300.  My brother told me that if I ironed my sheets that they would be soft.  He's right. So worth the effort.   And the Polka Dots?  C'mon.  

Sa-Weeeeet!

I want to marry these sheets and it is monogamous.

Mommacita's Favorite Thing #8

Knit Pics Bamboo Knitting Needles.  These are Yummy.  Not only are they gorgeous to look at, but they are gorgeous to use.  They slide like Butta.  Melted Butta.  I have a set of straight ones and a set of circular ones and I couldn't be happier about it.    Knitting is just like quilting.   You think you are done buying junk that helps you create, but you never are.  These needles by the way are only found online.  Knock yourself out. You won't be sorry.

I would like a check from the following companies for the free advertising I gave them to 12 people:

L'Occatine

the CW television Network

Public Broadcasting Service

Walmart

Sexy Sexy Hair

Mac Cosmetics

Kate Spade International

Knitpics.com

Thank you and I'll see you when the rolodex in my head reminds me of more.

Favorite Things, End of Year Edition

Today has been an odds and ends day..  Don't tell the shower police, but I didn't have one until late in the afternoon.  It was a no eyebrows day.  And I hesitate even saying that because I really don't want to be known as no eyebrows girl but maybe I've just cemented my fate.  I thought it fitting, in between sheet changing and preparing gifts for shipping (which is cheaper:  FedEx or UPS??  answer quickly please!!!) to squeeze a blog in between the tasks of the day.

I've done a favorite things edition before, but I've grown so much as a person since then.

You will be able to testify to my growth when you see my list.

The list is random and not in any particular order.



Let us begin.

The room is thick with excitement.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Mommacita favorite thing #1

L'Occitane Hand Cream.  The Glitches gave me some of this for Christmas last year and I love everything about it.  Even though it comes in several scents, I prefer the one they gave me:  Plain ol' regular.  It is  GREAT smelling.  The cream is fantastic.  It is a bit more spendy than other stuff, but if it is just you using it, you might just want to splurge.  I still have just under 1/2 a tube left because I hoard this along with hair products.  Glitch told me that there was a L'Occitane store in the train station in Switzerland. While I've seen these stores in malls, I've never seen one of their stores in a train station here.  I decided it must be Europe's version of Bath and Body.  You will love.

Mommacita Favorite Thing #2

Call me crazy, but I never knew about the TV show "Felicity" when it was really on.  It just was not on the Mommacita Radar.  I have only watched about 6 or 7 episodes, so I can't really put a FULL endorsement on it, but so far, it seems pretty decent.   About Felicity..... I want to know her, because she would LOVE me and I her and amidst the love fest I would wish for her hair. and I would magically get it and then we would braid each others curls and then we would go draw things and be besties.  Except I wouldn't dress in so many wool sweaters due to that hot flash thing. 

Mommacita Favorite Thing #3

OK.  I know I said I loved Felicity, but Britain's "Doc Martin" is my absolute all time favorite of 2012.  I would put it in the romantic comedy with a bit of drama genre, (that would be a ro-co-dra)  with a medical twist.  It is very subtle, yet clever, beautifully written, well acted, sweet and fun.  It is ABSOLUTELY Great TV!  Jaqueo Stinkie and his wife concur.  Two favorite things thumbs up!!!!!  The main character is a social idiot but you root for him.  Because of the  idiot part.  That's why you root for me.

Mommacita Favorite Thing #4

Insulated beverage cups with straws. 

    I love that my beverages stay cold.

    I love you can wash the straw

    I love there's a lid

    I love this item so much I want to marry it.

But only as a polygamist because I have 6 or 7 cups.

The cups would be sister wives.

Mommacita Favorite Thing #5

Since I'm a hair product hoarder, I'll share my newest obsession.  I now have short sexy hair, and I am also hard up.  Its a match made in heaven. 

Currently I only have one bottle and that makes me a little anxious.  I might run out and then my hair would be short and the opposite of sexy, One could argue that it would be, something like.... maybe..... short and nosexy,  and that I wouldn't be hard up, but I'd be: don't even look at the thing in the corner.  And then people would say "Darn it, Why doesn't that thing in the corner who might be a woman buy a wig?"

That would be bad.

Mommacita Favorite thing #6

This is my drawing implement.  Sadly, I bring it back to eyebrows. All roads lead to eyebrows.  At least in 2012.  In 2013 I will never speak of them. Let us all never speak of them in 2013.

I like this eyebrow draw-er because it never has to be sharpened.  Suffice to say, I go through a lot of them, So I have alot of free Mac Lipstick due to their recycling program.  It makes me be able to walk around with many options:

I think I'm a MC8819-6 kinda gal. I would NEVER MC8819-11. My hairdresser Cindy pretends to wax my eyebrows every other month just so I'll feel like other women in the salon.  Now THAT'S sensitivity training.

FYI, it would be insensitive of you to start calling me derogatory eyebrow nicknames.  I would not stoop to your level, however, I might turn into a social idiot that you would root for.

Pushing Back

Today I woke up to rain.  Big Rain.  It was before 7, and that is not my usual time.  I'm a sleeper inner.  Anyway, about the big rain.....  It was noisy, and gray and dismal, and the sun wasn't quite up.  I kind of groaned, because as I heard the rain, my thoughts turned to Jennifer.   Jennifer is a friend, not a close friend, but a friend non the less, and today, in the rain, the big rain, the noisy, big, gray and dismal rain Jennifer was burying her husband Doug.  Doug had succumbed to cancer after a 5 year war with it.  Doug used to hug me in the hall at church, his church being all finished and mine being about to start....and I would look at him and tell him I was so proud of him for shrinking the tumors in his lungs...then his brain...then his adrenal glands...then eventually his valiant try with his liver.  My stomach did a little lurching, thinking about Jennifer, and her family, going to the cemetery on this gray day.  So Not Fair.

I got to the funeral early, so I could maybe see her, and hug her, and tell her she could do it.  I did it all, I saw, I hugged, and I told.  Our eyes welled up with tears together, two women, not close friends, but nonetheless two women who had a shared experience of broken hearts.  I felt my stability shift just a bit.  My heart ached.  Ached mostly for her...but to be honest, it also ached for me. 

Its been 9 years since we have planned a funeral, dressed a body and had a burial day.  I have come a long way.  It has taken years and years. In those years I have learned better how to walk around with the wound that loss weaves into your fibers. Sometimes, however,  life has events that bring you back to the wound and you are reminded.  Reminded of it all:  the loss, the saddness, the grief.

Nevertheless,  I'm here to say that being pushed back to that place of sadness is OK.  I would even go so far as to say that it is Good. 

While they were bringing Doug into the chapel for the funeral, we all stood up out of respect.  I'm not going to lie, I started to struggle a little.   I felt an arm reach around my waist from the left.  Then I felt an arm from the right inch around my shoulders.  What is not Good about being reminded that you have people in your life who will help you bear your burdens?

While listening to Doug's children tell wonderful stories about their dad, I was sent back to the stories that my son told of his dad at our funeral.  What is not Good about being reminded that you had people in your life whose love trickled down: from them to you to your children and all around and back again?

While listening to a speaker teach the congregation about God's great plan of happiness, the Redeemer of Mankind, and the hope of an eternal  reunion on resurrection morning, I was transported to a place of hope and certainty of my beliefs.   What is not Good about being reminded of God's love for all mankind, and His plan to reunite families together forever?  What could be Better?

I believe that there is good, and I believe that there is evil in this world.  I believe that cancer is evil.  It destroys, it maims, it disfigures, it brings strong to weak.  Pure. Stinking. Evil.  I heard  a line from the funeral today, that was uttered right after Doug died. (paraphrasing here)

"Cancer has lost.  It did not win.  The cancer will not continue to grow and flourish, but is now dead, and deteriorating, lifeless, stagnant, and still.  Its remains are in a state of atrophy even now..  On the other hand, Doug has won.  He has beat the cancer, for he continues to live, to think, to feel, to care, to do, and to be.  He exists still, and he will continue on throughout eternity."

Good triumphs over evil.

Life triumphs over death.

Togetherness triumphs over loneliness,.

 Joy triumphs over sorrow.

A push back to that place, the place, while I wouldn't want it every day, is a blessed reminder of all things that are Good.

And since from time to time I have to be in the place,  I'm grateful that the place can also shine a bright light on the Good.

My wish is to soak up all that Good..... soak it up just as fast as humanly possible.

Booyah!

Will the World Be a Better Place if I clue you in on the fact that this morning I had pumpkin pie for breakfast and whipped cream from a can was included and I sounded a little like a nursing baby humming it's way through a feeding and then I sprayed a little whipped cream right into my mouth like I'm the only one who lives here?

It feels so good to do service.

Gratitude, Poof, Spanx.

I have been writing a weekly email for the women that go to my church.  After wishing everyone happy birthday and putting in an uplifting quote and sharing everybody's good news and including a  calendar with items such as a nativity festival that is needing nativities to display,  (its borderline oxymoronic) I finished the email with my own little list of what I’m grateful for. 

 “A 10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List”  is the title I gave this list.  And there was no premeditation for this list.  I made it  up as I went along.  And it shows.  Not a lot of thought went into it......OK???????

 This is not to say I’m not grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the love of family and friends and a body that works most of the time, and all the other big things that bless my life... Of COURSE I am grateful for those.  So don't get all harummmmphed and call me out on my dumb gratitude list.  Even if you are tempted.  Which I’m sure you’re not. Even though I just implied that you were.

I made this list to keep people reading the emails.  The women seem to need a bit of fluff and poof amidst their calendar items for the week to keep them from hitting the delete button or worse yet the send this to spam button.   I have since tweaked the list to make it blogworthy.  I hate to insult my readers, all 5 of you, but lets be honest....you like a little fluff and poof yourself.  

I hope I'm not saying anything wrong when I say fluff and poof.  I really am making this up as I'm going along. If it is an innuendo for something awful I do it in innocence.  Forgiveness mandatory and let us never speak of this again.

Soooooo-oo, Since I have not given you a blog yet, and since it is already written, and since I am lazy, and since you're saying to yourself "What the heck Mommacita just give us the silly list, because don't you think we deserve it after all this silliness, sometimes you drive us crazy with all your fluff and poofiness",  I give to you a very unspecial list:

 

 “10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List”

 

1. A warm house on a windy, rainy, putrid  Sunday night, And my calendar says I can stay out of the wind and the rain and the pue and the trid.  This was not the case tonight, but maybe someday it will be.
2. Family ties- just knowing I have some is good.
3. Skin perfecting make-up.  And I promise next week's blog will not even have the work MAKE-UP in it.  Because I'm just as sick of this subject as you are.
4. A monthly day of beauty which is really just a haircut and a color 
5. Gas is not 10 bucks a gallon
6. Ice.  Yes.  I love ice.  In my beverages.  And yes.  It’s a REALLY little thing.  And by the way, I am grateful for a hot shower with just as much passion.
7. 4 granddaughters and 3 grandsons who like me.  It’s the liking me part that I’m grateful for.  This is not a little thing and technically should not be on this list but I’m a grandmother and have to talk about them.  It’s the law.  
8. When I go to Costco and the rain lets up while I’m loading my car. Any Northwesterner understands this  and if you are a NWer then we are soul sisters on this one
9. Good TV.  I just loves me some good TV.  Oh yeah, and books. And algebraic equations.  OK, I lied a teensy here but I refuse to tell you where.
10.  Eyes that are ABLE to read without Reading glasses but still have the OPTION to read WITH reading glasses if I want to or need to.  Sheesh this is tiring
11. Spanx.  And I know that’s 11 on a list that says 10 in the title.  But how could I not be Thankful for something that does so much for so many who need a little help here and there?  Spanx are truly a compassion based unmentionable.  If I happened to be an unmentionable, I might look to Spanx as a role model. 

There are more, but as you can see, this list is a little scary because I think I just said that I would use a girdle as a role model. Stream of consciousness is the devil. 

 I will spare you any more, “10 Little Things Mommacita is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List” items  which will put my act of sparing you at the top of YOUR  “10 Little Things you the READER  is Grateful for Which is Not an All Inclusive List”  

You the READER have bad grammar.  Just saying.

I'm just tired now.

Makeup Removal

Today We're talking about Make-up.  Maybe its because it might be on my mind from confessing about my eyebrows.  Maybe its from having a dream about Glitch being in a skit while shaving my head as I lay sleeping.    Despite the reason, you're getting my psychotic views on make-up, or more precisely, my psychotic views on makeup and the aging American Caucasian Woman.

My big question today is:    

HOW LONG IN AN AGING AMERICAN CAUCASIAN WOMAN'S LIFE  

(assuming she is NOT a natural beauty and is CLEARLY a woman who needs to wear 

makeup every stinking day of  her life)  

DOES SAID WOMAN HAVE TO CONTINUE WITH THE PURCHASING 

OF MAKEUP, THE APPLYING OF MAKEUP, THE TOUCHING UP OF MAKEUP, AND THE REMOVING OF MAKEUP?  

Or in other words...  is there an end to my maddeningly boring makeup ritual?  Is there mercy in this lifetime?  Is there?  IS THERE????? 

I've been doing an informal study over the past, say, 500 months.  I have been studying the faces of women who are at least 10 years older than I am (yes, I am at least 500 months old.  At first I wasn't sure, but now I am because I just did the math on a calculator that (oddly enough) has keys that are 1 inch by 1 inch so aging people can see them)

While studying, my feelings went from a "hmm-m how odd" to full on fear.

These are some of the things that I fear:

1.)     I fear I will become that woman who doesn't know that less is more.  You know her.  Eyelids a little too turquoise, lips a little to red, cheeks a little too circular, skin a little too puttied.  I fear that sometimes I have crossed that line.  I have tendencies.  Particularly when I'm experimenting with some eyeshadow that was free in a gift with purchase that if truth be told, I know is wrong for me but I just keep trying to put that square peg in a round hole.

It could happen

2.)      I fear that I will become that woman who can't see and her kids should step up to the plate and take away her lip liner so that she doesn't go to church with "Plum Crazy" eyebrows.  Don't scoff.  I know a person who did this.  I also saw a woman who drew her eyebrows ABOVE her real eyebrows.   And all four corners were squared off as if a stencil was used with a can of spray paint.  The whole thing was a rectangle arch situation.  I became paralyzed, absolutely paralyzed with fear.  She had double eyebrows.  Like a rainbow.  The top set were dark.  The bottom set were hairy.  I couldn't stop starring.  Or feeling scared.  I think this is the woman who I fear the most. 

 No eyebrows AND outside the lines.  Behold my future

3.)     I also fear I will be that woman that says waaaaaaaaaay too soon, "Hey, I'm over (insert age here), so I don't need makeup any more" and so she, after covering her age spots up for (insert number here) years,  just relaxes and lets them flap in the breeze.  Like a tush in a hospital gown.    I especially don't care that when 'flap in the breeze woman'  was 13, she and her friend down the street used to lay out in the sun with baby oil smeared on every surface while listening to the Monkeys on KPIX Radio and were even known to call the station to request a song for a boy named David Croft that someone not me was crushing on.  Should anyone have to look at  45 year old sun damage or a tush that is flapping before they absolutely have to??.

they don't call 'em liver spots for nothin'

I could avoid all this dopey stuff if only I turned down the vanity knob a notch or two.  

But then I would have to blog about my fears of loosing my inner beauty as I age, due to repressed anger from man's inhumanity to man. 

You like the shallow me.  I just know it.

Sabbath Confessional

So. 

Racking my brain here.

Trying to find a subject.

From my mundane existence.

Don't get me wrong.  I cherish the mundane.  I seek the mundane.  The mundane pleaseth me.  Because even in the mundane, there is always TV. 

So in desperation, I've decided to tell some of my secrets.

Since I have never leaked these secrets to only those who know me well, I stand at the edge of risk.  Now you will all know these things.  Am I ready for it?  Am I confident enough for this kind of exposure?  I don't think I am.   But onward I trudge through the muck.  Hold your head high, Mommacita.  You're about to  reach unalterable exposure.  This is almost like TMZ.  Without the cameras and high risk paparazzi chase down I-5.

So, now, I give to you my 5 readers, some unknown facts about me, a delightful woman of mystery.

Please be kind I implore you.  Just because I'm writing it here, doesn't mean I want to talk with ANY of you about it face to face. If you do, I will turn into a 13 year old girl and run screaming from the room with a door slam that will quake the earth.


Confessional #1

I DRAW MY EYEBROWS ON EVERY SINGLE DAY EXCEPT THE DAYS I MIGHT HAVE FOOD POISONING OR MORNING SICKNESS.  NO, THIS IS NOT AN ANNOUNCEMENT.

Yes.  This is embarrassing.  Mainly because when people see me without eyebrows on they can't help themselves by saying something obnoxious like, "Gee, you look so different" or "Gee, you look like an old woman"  The latter was said to me in my freshman dorm room the first week of my college experience right after I had left the bosom of my childhood home.  Yes.  I was scarred for life.  But mainly because the scenario was repeated each time I got a new roommate, a child learned to talk, I went to girls camp etc. etc. etc.  Sometimes I look at older women and think, hey, you don't draw your eyebrows on and YOU'RE getting away with it does that mean I will get away with it at 40? Then I turned 40.  So I changed the age to 50.  Then I turned 50.  Well, you get the drift.  I will be drawing these babies on until I die.  And don't tell me to get them dyed.  I've tried.  My eyebrows are made of plastic fishing line and have you ever tried to dye plastic fishing line?  So yeah.  I became an art major in college so I might draw.

PS  I was at a ST Louis Nordstrom 2 years ago and a Mac Representative finally showed me how to do it right.  I love thinking about walking around for 55 years with stupid eyebrows.  Dig hole, jump in, pull dirt in after me.

Confessional #2

My dirtiest little secret is that I READ OBITUARIES IN THE SALT LAKE CITY DESERET NEWS AT LEAST ONCE MAYBE TWICE A WEEK.

I know.  IT"S WEIRD!!!!!!!  I was visiting my parents once, and while watching the paint on the walls age I picked up the newspaper and saw an obituary in the Deseret News for a DOG.  You heard me.  A DOG.  It was a little white one.  It was mixed right in there with everybody's beloved Daughter, Wife,  Mother, Sister, Grandmother, Aunt, and Friend.  The dogs owners really missed that dog alot.  So after reading about the life of the dog, I started reading the obituaries around it.  I kind of liked them.  Everyone was different.  Some were mushy:  "Grandma was the most sweetest most kindest  most cutest Grandma in the universe."   Some were succinct:  "Jerimiah is dead.  Obituaries cost a fortune.  The end."  Some were for little babies.  I always felt true sorrow.  Some were for children.  Same reaction.  Some were for family members of people I went to school with.  Some oozed love.  Some were full of respect.  Some are poorly written which would most likely pose the question "Got Proofreader?".   Some were beautifully written which really did leave the world a better place not like this ridiculousness piece of bleh.    Anyway, I've never found any obits that rival the ones in the Deseret News.  It's because they'll obit anyone including a dog.  Even though I've been searching and searching, I have never found another dog one.  Dog ones kill me.   I'm sure there has been one, but its just too weird to look online in another city's obituary page more than once maybe twice a week.

I just like thinking about a person's life and their weird family.  Is that so wrong?

Aren't you glad there's people out there who appreciate  other people's efforts?

What? 

No.  I am not trying to make weird normal.  Its weird and I own it.

Confessional #3

I CAN"T WATCH ANY OF THOSE 'HOARDER' SHOWS ON TV BECAUSE I GET NAUSEOUS AND I START RETCHING.

This is NOT a lie.  The thought of a house full of cat skeletons and rodent poop makes me sick. Not to mention all that stinky junk. 

Confessional #4

I HOARD HAIR PRODUCTS.

I love everything about hair products.  I love the smell, I love the thought of trying a new one, I love the thrill of finding a really great one, and this goes for everything from shampoo to hairspray.  And my friend has a niece with her beautician's license and sometimes I get to go with them to the beauty supply store, and the thought of hair products at a discounted price makes me absolutely giddy!!!!  I can't stop buying them because what if I never ever ever get to go to a beauty supply store again (even though they will take me whenever I want).  I am compelled to buy 5 of one thing and then I find a better product so I'm stuck with 4 bottles of Sugar Shock up in my closet.  It is a problem people.  I'm not a rich woman. 



This needs to be over.  I can't take any more confessionals today.  I'm all vulnerable and naked now and I've spent my life trying to be clothed because, just trust me, it's better that way.

And I'm all about the world being better. 

Whatever People

 I argued with my niece Annie that my life has nothing to blog about.  If I were, to say, live around grandchildren I could make you so impressed with mine and unimpressed with yours that you would go to bed tonight feeling slightly bad about yourself.  And you would think that there were indeed perfect people out there and you are INDEED a slub on the fabric of your life.  I think my exact words to Annie were:

"Do you REALLY want to hear about how I killed a spider with my backscratcher and now I have to use the handle end to scratch my back so I don't get spider guts or the thought of spider guts on my back which transfers to my nightgown which transfers to my sheets which interrupts my TV watching in bed.?"

Ok.  Not my exact words because remember people can embellish on blogs and remember what I said about how I threatened to make you feel about your grandkids?  I mean it people.  I might become desparate.

I might be desperate because  I am finding that I am obsolete.  Blogging Obsolete.  First of all when I came in here last week to post, the landscape of blogspot.com  had changed (don't get me wrong, it needed to....I had frustrations) and the changes left me feeling like I was the Rumpelstiltskin of Bloggers and that in my 25 year sleep they had changed the way to do everything on this sight.  I can't get from place to place.  I can't import pictures...really great pictures.  I just don't have the fight in me people.  I don't have anyone to kill my spiders OR scratch my back and now this.  GeezeLouize 

I had a great blog planned for this week.  Glitch was here visiting.  We visited The Grandmother who is 88 or 89 (Her age is a question mark because she has two birth certificates...and she works this fact to her advantage whenever she can so now SHE doesn't even know how old she is...)  GloBug took Pictures and sent them to me.  I had a picture of GrandmaLoveIt sitting as close to Gitch as she possibly could without sitting directly on his lap.  Glitch was laughing and he really has a terrific smile which you might have enjoyed.  I had a picture of Gitch protecting his earlobes from a earlobe chewing crazy person in their late 80's.  I DID NOT have a picture of said Crazy firmly reiterating that she HAS NOT been to a garage sale in over 6 MONTHS.  6 MONTHS people!   I had a picture of Grandmaloveits' dining room table which contained the following items:

An Autumn Leaf Magnetic Mailbox Cover

A Red White and Blue Wooden Elephant hanging on a Jewelery Hanger Thing

A Red Teddy Bear

A Giant Clothespin

A Cement House Ornament with a Bird on it that says Flycatcher underneath the Pink silk Flowers it holds

A Brass Bell

A Glass Candelabra

A Porcelain Egg that opens to Hold Crap

A vase of fake tulips

A Christmas Ornament with Jake's name on it in the shape of an airplane

 More glass stuff

Yeah.  All this and no not one garage sale.  It would have been a sweet blog.  Only I COULDN'T SEEM TO GET THE PICTURES TRANSFERRED FROM MY COMPUTER TO MY BLOG.  Yeah.  I'm THAT stupid. 

I can't even find out how to go in and edit blogs.  

I can't move around the site.

I'm starting to feel like a slub on the fabric of my life and it pretty much stinks because my job is  to make you, the reader feel like that.

Go me.

Wouldn't you Know this would be Gross

So Yeah. I shook hands with my darling niece Annie and her brother's wedding to start doing this again once a week.  She's the reason I started up a blog in the first place, so if you want to get scientific about it I guess we can assume that Annie has blogcontrol over me.  All Powerful.  All knowing.  All Seeing.

And This is going to be short this first time, because:

A.  My suitcase is still in the trunk of my car from traveling home from her brother's wedding. (I've been home a day and a half.  And yes, this might be thought of as lazy pants)

B.  I think I might be dead or dying. 

Lets address A.

I chose to leave my suitcase in the car because after driving home from the airport in the dark with torrential rain, white knuckling it all the way because when I say torrential rain, I really mean it this time Oh shoot, I've lost my train of thought and I'm currently sweating profusely (see B).  Anyway, I spilled out of the car onto the garage floor and dragged myself into the (hem) powder room to (hem) how do you say vomit nicely?  So My suitcase is still in my trunk and I don't care who knows it. I don't know when It will be lifted out.  Perhaps when Mitch comes for a visit.

Now for B

I think I gave it away in A but I feel compelled to warn you that if you eat a chicken pecan apple salad (but I didn't see one single pecan and I was looking for them the whole time ) with no dressing at the Wendy's in the Southwest terminal at the Salt Lake City Airport then you will want to die and die quickly.  Only you won't die like you want but will linger on, sweating, chilling, and experiencing other unmentionable tortures which my boys came home from their missions calling boo.  With out getting totally sickening, let's just say, I am experiencing all the pleasures of a good and tasty food poisoning.  Including an IV drip in the ER.

Let's digress a little.  I drove myself to the ER.  I don't think that I should have.  I thought I was being self reliant and noble.  I was being stupid.  I include this as a warning to all five of you.  Don't scoff.  I just may have saved someone else's life.

Back to B.

So Yeah.  I'm a mess.  And I slept on a bed without sheets last night and trust me you don't want to know why.  The sad part is is I just might do it again.  sniff.

So anyone out there who MAY have made a comment on Allpowerful's blog about me not having posted a blog yet, who called me a liar,  and you know who you are yomama,  just feel my pain.  Go on.  Feel it.  

Excuse me now, Gatorade calls.

I feel fortunate to like the Purple.

Good Ol' Fashioned Bloggie Blog

I don't understand it. 

After all this time.  After all those "When are you going to blog?"s. 

 After remaining silent during the royal wedding.

 

After remaining silent during the great Christmas 2010 illness that had me tethered to the ladies room.

After remaining silent after hearing the news that I'm having another granddaughter.  (Go Lisa! Go Lisa!)

After remaining silent after taking up knitting.

  Remaining silent after Thanksgiving in St. Louie.

Remaing silent after many world class freak shows were witnessed by me, Mommacita.

  

Remaining silent after the Navy Seals reminded me that Dubers and his friends used to play Navy Seals Training in High school and stand there and torture each other with face slapping episodes to prove their toughness while I stood there and wondered what the heck.  

And last but not least, remaining silent after the Great Pinkie Toe Break of May 2011.  No Picture to follow even though I took one.  I don't know how to upload it from my iphone.  Just so you know it hurt like Crikee.  You don't ever want an appendage to be perpendicular to the thing it appends from.


If I examine too closely the impetus for coming back to this blog, then I might have to become my authentic self.  (By the way, if I hear the term authentic self one more time I might become inauthentic in order to spite the authentics. And then it would be requisite for me to take up spitting out the car window.  I've seen it done alot and I think I could do it if need be.)

So yes, ladies and gentlemen, here is my reason to stop my TV watching and express myself to the world.  Here is my need.  Here is my desire.  Here is the wind beneath my upper arms that sufficeth for wings. This is what moved me.  This is what caused the stirring of my heart.  My breathing in. My waiting to exhale.  This is it.  Here it is.  Finally.  The Reason:

Dear Doggie People,
If you are going to dress up your doggiechild in humiliating doggiechild skirts, and if you are going to go to the Subway drive through, and if you are going to let said doggiechild prance around in the back window and then after the prancing is finally done you let your doggiechild stand in your back window with it's rear end to the driver BEHIND you, then please please PLEASE PLEEEEEEZE put some underpants on your doggiechild.  Today I felt like I was looking up someone's dress through your back window.

And that goes for all kittiechilds as well.  Girl or Boy.  No matter.  Just don't want a tulle frame around all that stuff.

 Good Night and Thank You to all who when they want to wear a costume, they wear the entire ensemble.  Its the only decent thing to do.  You know you feel the same.

.

All is Well in Wellsville, or, I Think I Found Stars Hollow

Can you hear it?
Wait for it.......Waaaaaaaait for it.......   YES!  There it is!  Can you hear Andy of Mayberry whistling the theme song?  And can you see Opie kicking up dust with his fishin pole over his shoulder?  And can you smell Aunt Bea's blueberry pie comin' right out of the oven?  And hear Barney Fife shooting himself in the foot?  Yes?  ME TOO!

Because I was there in person today:  Mayberry RFD.  I was coated in retro.  This morning Jaqueostinky's family and I headed off to Wellsville (real name) for a 'Founder's Day Parade" even though it is really Labor Day today. 

(ps.   There's loads of low quality pictures to come....I was so excited by what I saw that all I did was point and shoot.  Aesthetics be forgotten.....  Lighting be dar ned.....)

First, the po-lice started off the parade with a bang.  Please note Gracie and Sophie off to the left side, not so impressed with them,  holding their WalMart sacks waiting for the candy throwing to begin.  And That Girl in the pink and white striped shirt?  Lets be keeping it real and say that she was strictly a kid from 2010.  She kept gathering candy in her space and then would run over and steal what had been thrown to my two little angels.  I wanted to kick her real hard and that was not very Mayberry of me.

Next we see the satisfied face of an assertive child who problem solved by running up to the candy throwers and flashing her dimples.  How very Grandma Margaret of her.

Next we have a larger woman being pulled by a smaller pony.  I'm just sayin.  It might have been too hot for this.

Next we have a softball team and one girl dragged her barkalounger up on the truck.  I know there is a sign that advertises a raffle, but that thing looked like someone's dad had already put several miles on it during 7 or 8 consecutive March Madnesses.

Here we have the Wellness Community Band.  Most of it's Participants were over 65, not that there's anything wrong with that.  My biggest regret of the day was not snapping a pic of the 85 year old woman

 that was banging on the bass drum.....Don't you just kick yourself when you miss the golden moment? 

 ps.  There were alot of suspenders in the band.

Band Enrapture

Wellness's Oldest Sweethearts.  So MAD about the blur because they were the cutes.

The UNREAL homemade glazed donut that I bought from one of Jaqueo's scouts

The Preston Idaho High School Marching Band.  Remember?  It's Napolean Dynamite's alma matar

SO EXCITING!

Pedro is the student body president AND plays the trumpet 

Socially Concious Demolation Derby-ists

Socially Unconcious Home Care Givers who make their Patients ride in a parade

Members of the A.M.R.S.  (American Medieval Re-inactment Society).  A particularly poignant quote from their flyer:  "A Kingdom for a stage, Princes to act, and Monarchs to behold the swelling scene. . .

- Shakespeare, Henry V

If you join, there are CAMP OUTS!!!!

Please do not be offended by the next two pictures.  I just pointed and shooted like the camera said to do.

So now you've got yer wild ones, that at first glance have gotcha wondering:

"Are they or aren't they???"

.....And then you see the two blonde ones with red goo slathered on them and there's no more doubt. 

Just lots and lots of confusion and an urge to cover up your grandchildren's eyes.

For those of you who think my blogs are too long (you know who you are Glitch), you may find it rather noteworthy that I did not include pictures of Wellsville's Oldest Citizen which included a man in a straw hat, my grand kids bearing down on the candy throwers, the Queen of 1856 who really might have been THE queen they are talking about there, a ninn-compoop wearing a real bearskin and a real bearhead on his head, a float that celebrated the Golden Spike that had a woman who left her dentures at home, two tweens carrying a flag that announced the Excess Material Disposition Crew who were really just people who scooped up horse manure,  a cowgirl in sparklie tight pants, and a float carrying princesses that was covered with so many silk flowers that the first thing that popped into my head was "40% off coupon at Michaels."

So yeah....I edit.