Economy Eblonomy part II

I might tire of this economy themed post scheme before it's time. Maybe it's that I'm tired of the economy. And I heard today that Economy Eblonomy is going to be around until 2012. Knife through the heart.

But I must press on. I'm trying to regroup, rethink. In fact, today I consulted the Mommacita Think Tank For Ideas On How to Save Cash. The Mommacita Think Tank was recently formed (10:00 this morning) and is made up of a volunteer who was available once a gun was put to her head.

Because you're craving more tips from the tip list, here you go.



Economic Tip List ~ Tip Number 2

"Eat what is already in your cupboard"

FYI, I kind of stopped eating cereal in the mornings, in favor of a more protein based meal to start out my day.

Just so you know, back in the day, when there were 4 kids and an athletic man living here, I couldn't keep food on the shelves. Now that everyone has gone, I have become labeled by my kids as that toothless shifty eyed lady who likes to have outdated food everywhere in her house (and since she likes to have outdated food in her house you better be on guard every single second you are with her because she is plotting to make you eat it and kill you and your loved ones).

They all think they are getting away with checking the dates on the food when I'm not looking, but I'm here to tell you they're NOT getting away with it. I see them doing it. I live in fear of them finding outdated food in my house because, one, they mock me for it, and two, it's embarrassing. So when they come to visit, or STAY, I go out of my way to put food with a "good until 2011" stamp on it right out there on the front of the shelf. And then I hope, they don't look beyond the first row.

Anyway, because of this, and because for the last 30 years I got in the habit of buying 2 or 3 of something when something was on sale, I might have too much food.

So I just inventoried the cereal, because while I don't eat cereal anymore, apparently I still buy it. Because you never know when I might start eating it again. This is what I found:

Kelloggs Rice Krispies

Kelloggs Frosted Mini Wheats

Wheat Chex

2 boxes of Post spoon sized Shredded Wheat

Post spoon sized Shredded Wheat 'N' Bran

Kashi Go Lean

Kashi 7 whole grain Puffs

Quaker regular oatmeal packets

Quaker Fruit and Cream Oatmeal Packets

a Giant box of Life

Trader Joe's Oatmeal Complete packets

Trader Joe's Shredded Bite Sized Wheats

Trader Joe's Twigs, Flakes and Clusters

Trader Joes Triple Nut and Flakes reduced Sugar Cereal

Trader Joe's Organic High Fiber O's

(My findings made me uber cranky by the way.)

In case you didn't count what's up in that list, let me inform: there are 16 boxes of cereal up there. So I'm going to start eating up that cereal. Even if I don't like it. I KNOW. Character building. And judging from the high fiber content of most of it, I may not have time to post tomorrow.

To my kids: if you find me dead because I willfully ate cereal with a 2008 date on it, then buy the cheapest coffin you can find and bury me next to your dad.

Economy Eblonomy

How cute is this little viking?

I KNOW. That's my Henry R. And he's looking at his Gram. See the adoration? And get a load of the chin. I KNOW!

Switching gears....



People.

There's an economic crisis going on.

And we need to discuss because it has hit the Mommacita. So I've been trying to come up with ways to stretch my dolla bill. And please know, that if you have a shred of decency in you at all, you will share your economic crisis tips with me as well.



This may or may not be a threat, but if I become poor, then you will have a needy widow on your hands and then poof, there goes your wide variety of choices in life: You will feel strongly compelled to help me. And then you might resent me. But every day, when you read your scriptures, the compelling need to help the lonely widow is going to hit you again and again in the face and in your heart of hearts you'll know you'll have to lift up my weary arms that hang down and pick me up out of the gutter. And then you'll be tired and you might find yourself complaining about that and you'll say to yourself, "Why doesn't that pathetic Mommacita do something to help her own bad self???



So in order to keep our emotional health uncluttered, let's start a little economic crisis tip list.
How's about we call it the "Economic Crisis Tip List"?



Start the Dance Music.



Economic Crisis Tip List Number 1* (or ECTL for short (I'm a big fan of using initials and then slurring them together to form a new word. ECTL would be pronounced eek-tell. See? it's fun!))

1. Make and then reuse your own ice cubes. This will save you $1.49.

I've started making my own ice. I can do this because excellent water flows from my hometown tap, AND there's an economic crisis going on. I still love the store bought stuff, but I'm saving $1.49 on every bag of ice. So I think ahead and make myself 2 trays of ice, and then when I need a beverage I fill the glass TO THE TOP (very important component) with delicious homemade ice and pour in my beverage, drink it, (always using a straw) and then I put the glass and the used ice back in the freezer. Then when I'm thirsty again, I get my glass out and repeat the process. Except for I always treat myself to a fresh straw. They're cheap.



Yep. I'm reusing ice. And if this makes me a bag lady then so be it. I have found that you can reuse your ice up to 4 or 5 times. After that, you take a good long look at what you're doing, you get a little sick to your stomach, and then you tell yourself that $1.49 or not you need to make yourself stop and get some fresh ice.


I have never suffered any effects of dysentary or vomiting.


I do it all for you, people.

OK. That's not the whole truth. I do it all for you, and I do it to try and control the universe.


So enjoy your $1.49 After you've reused enough ice to equal 6 or 7 bags of ice, you can treat yourself to a movie. You can probably do it in as little as 4 months. That's 3 movies in one year. You can make it 4 or 5 if you go to the matinee. Hot diggittey.



*You know there will be more.

Travelmony. Since it's the First Monday of the Month.

Bueno Bueno.

I have been gone for 2 1/2 weeks, and I tried to trick you all by writing blogs about Family Feud. I was in the Bahamas, visiting my little man Henry R. SnugglieBaby. I didn't want anyone to break into my house and steal my giant TV from 1985 so I didn't broadcast my absence. I don't have anything worth stealing (no jewelery, no electronics, no cash, but a lot of bags for good will) but it is kind of the principle of the thing. I don't like uninvited people looking at my outdated food in my cupboards.

I've pretty much been laying on my bed, my luscious luscious bed, (which if I were a thief, I would notice that it is the only thing of value in my house but who wants somebody else's bed with all their sluffed off dead skin all over it) anyway, I've been laying on my bed since I got home, eating cheese and grapes and English muffin bread toast and watching all the stuff that DVR'd while I was gone. Jet lag recovery I like to call it, so's not to feel guilt or shame. Not that I would. Well, I might.

So if you're bogged down in snow, sleet, ice, rain, wind or the like, I testify to you that there IS a place on this earth where the temperature hovers around 70 degrees, the ocean breeze whispers across your sunkissed cheek, the evening causes you to run to the window and watch the sun set over the ocean, (the prettiest shade of pink causes an ever so slight coo), the people warmly say hello to you when you and a baby stroller pass them on the sidewalk, and you don't have to wear even a sweater ever ever ever. Unless you want to for your outfit.



Just so you don't feel super bad, I didn't put a real picture up there. It's a painting on velvet that I found on the Internet, which should cause repulsion and gagging instead of longing and sadness.


Don't ever accuse me of not being plugged in to the feelings of others.

You're welcome.

PS I was never bored even though I might have hinted before that I was. Just keeping it real.

Bored is as Bored Does

Do you ever just get really bored? Like really really super duper bored? And then when you're bored, in a self preserving effort to become un-bored your mind just starts going from one thing to the next until you find yourself somewhere where you wish you'd never gone because it is a really dumb place?


Well, today I watched Family Feud. Let me preface with I'm not much of a Family Feuder, but today I was vulnerable because of the boredom. Plus I was at someone else's house...so I became a Feuder. I'm good at fitting in. And I kind of liked being a Feuder today because today was Celebrity Look Alike Day on the Feud. SO COOL. David Letterman, but not really David Letterman was on, and Jennifer Anniston, and Martha Stewart, and Nicole Kidman. The Jennifer Anniston was a dead ringer. And It got me thinking. Are there people running around that look like me out there? Chances are there are. There's a fake Mommacita out there walking around, probably wearing really bad outfits just to embarrass me. And she's probably skinny without even trying. But before you think ha ha ha Mommacita, just think about it for a minute...if there's a fake me out there, then chances are there's a fake you as well. So ha ha right back at you.

After becoming a Feuder that fits in with others, I went on line to look for a visual for a Celebrity Look Alike Family Feud themed blog, and that was the beginning of the deterioration of my well being. People. There are not only people out there who look and act just like us, but I learned that there are animals that look like us as well. Doesn't sit so well, does it?

Keep going. There's proof. You've always got to have some proof if you want to make yourself nuts.

This one is supposed to look like Paris Hilton. I don't think this one would ever make it on the Pets Who Look Like Celebrities Edition of Family Feud. It's just not close enough for me.

And because you really really love kittie pictures:

This one is supposed to look like Yoda. Are those horn thingies real? You never know with Photo shop and stuff. I think pet people can become weird sometimes if they let themselves. Just a friendly little heads up to you pet folks out there.


So Yah. Today I wasted some time. And now I've done it to you.

Now that I think about it, It was sort of fun wasting your time. All the pleasure, none of the guilt. Kind of like spending other peoples money. And just for visual effect, I think I'll waste some space at the bottom of this blog.

See you next time.

An Annoying Song is Stuck in My Head

This morning I had a dream when I think I was supposed to be waking up. This just goes to show you, when you're supposed to be doing things like waking up, you have no business laying there in bed floating back into dreamland.

In my dream that I had no business having, I had just finished a delicious meal at Original House of Pancakes, not to be confused with an IHOP that serves that Rootie Tootie Fresh and Fruitie business. I was leaving the restaurant, and I somehow picked up on the fact that I was mentally ill. Being mentally ill, I tried to bum a ride home from two couples who , were complete strangers. This is how I knew I was mentally ill because I thought "Mommacita you are crazy to ask strangers for a ride." They said no, because their car was full. I totally got that they wouldn't want me in the car with them, (for a myriad of reasons including I had not showered) so I talked them into letting me ride on the hood of the car which turned out to be quite comfortable. I'd ABSOLUTELY do it again under the same set of circumstances.

It's been 7 hours since I woke up and I still can't stop thinking about the Original House of Pancakes.

I order the pecan pancakes alot when I go there. If I have to think of this all day then so do you. And yes. I totally own that I am deeply flawed.

Song For a Beautiful Day

Right after Tim had his kidney removed. at the beginning of the cancer saga, and after they told me he had a 99% chance of surviving his little bout with cancer, they wheeled him into his hospital room all reved up on painkillers. I was with my friend Miss Kitty, (thank you again for spending that day with me) and there he was, tubes coming out of everywhere, however Tim was lucid enough to have a conversation. It was a Tim torked up on painkiller conversation but never the less a conversation. Miss Kitty and I kept giggling at him, because he was pretty drunk, and since we had never seen him thus, we were enjoying his ridiculous-ness. He inquired about the weather, to which we replied: " It was a beautiful sunny day today, with blue skies and no clouds."

He sat there and thought a minute, and, unprovoked he slurred out a reply: "I married a beeeeeeeautiful girrrrrrl on a beeeeeeeautiful day like tooooooooday." We laughed until our sides hurt at him, and whenever Miss Kitty and I are together on a pretty day, and we notice the beauty of the day, one of us pretty much always repeats Tim's drunken quote.

The thing is, even though I laughed that day, I had an instant thought come to my mind and this was it:

Here is a man who has been told he has cancer, is looped out on drugs, has just been though major surgery, has lost a kidney, and even in the state he is in, his instinct is to make me feel loved and beautiful. And that is pretty much the way my life was everyday. And it was bliss.

I know some people don't understand why I am still so connected to my deceased husband. It's true, I am. But in my belief system, my religion, we believe, that love and marriage are eternal...and I can't reconcile putting my memories in a box and taping the lid shut. I want to remember him, because he was worth remembering, and I know that at some point in time we will resume counting our anniversarys again.

On February 17, 1977, Tim and I started a life together. We created a family out of thin air, we loved, we laughed, we disagreed, I got mad, he acted perplexed, we made up, we had babies, we raised them, we slept, we ate, we traveled, we stayed home, we worked, we discussed and discussed and we decided how we wanted things to be for our little corner. We had fun. And we created a life for 4 other people. Which has turned into 5 more people. Is it me, or is this not all worth staying connected to?

All of that leaves me on this note, which is a note I sing, loud and unashamed, for the world wide web to hear:

Happy Anniversary my Timmers. 32 years ago today was the most beeeeeeeeeeeeeeautiful day of my life.
(sorry about the cancer.)




PS. Happy Anniversary Schneeberwitz and Willie. Love you both!

PSS Happy Birthday Miss Kitty! You know they say that 50 is nifty.

Who Throws Away a Bowling Ball?

I've decided to take this opportunity to discuss my neurosis with you, my captive audience.

(However, judging from the number of comments from the last two posts, I'm not so sure I have an audience....especially since the comment on the VERY last post was from my daughter, and it was clearly a pity comment, one that I appreciate, yet a pity comment just the same.)

So back to my neurosis. I have a couple thousand of them, but I can't flood you with them all at once, because then I won't even get a pity comment. And goodness knows I'm all about the comment.

I was having a conversation with some people last night...OK, family members.... and I was accused of throwing away their stuff, and when I tried to defend my actions I was told (and I quote) "It's just so hard to have a couple of extra things around." Did you catch the sarcastic edge there? Yah. Me too.

Let's get something straight here before I really get going. This post, could in reality go on for eternity if I let it. When I went in and repainted my kid's rooms after they left home, and threw away their treasures, (absolute crap....and trust me, I don't use the word crap lightly because I know people who are squeemish with the word crap and I don't want to offend, but it really IS the only word that can be used here..), I threw and threw and threw and threw. And I didn't feel guilty. In fact I felt free. I FELT FREE, YES FREE my fellow brothers and sisters of the human race. And it was then that I discovered that I have an aversion to other people's stuff. It stifles me. It makes me feel closed in and worried, and cantankerous. I love walking into a hotel room and knowing that no body's stuff is in there. I love opening a closet door and having it be empty. Especially if it is in my house. I don't have a problem if I go into someone else's home and it is full of their stuff...That's not the problem. The crux of the matter is that I just don't want to be responsible for a lot of stuff. I don't want stuff. Yet I continue to buy stuff, which accounts for my worriedness and cantankerousness. I hate that I buy stuff. But I have fun doing it. I just don't have fun living with it. You see the neurosis here? Yep. I'm a case

But before you judge too harshly, here's a glimpse of a VERY small portion of the junk that I have been know to throw away, to not "keep around because it is just too hard."

First, I might have thrown away candles from Chile

Yeah, I know, seems pretty heinous. but let me just let you know that they were in coconut shells cut in half and stunk like 3rd world country. Or mold. You decide.

Second, I definitely threw away a shopping bag full of tags

You think I'm kidding. I'm not. You think there were only a couple of tags in there. THERE WERE MILLIONS. Case closed.

Third, I might have thrown away a CD of Russian Music, In Russian, That sounded like Nothing

I just have nothing more to say about the CD. I refrain from gratuitous use of the C-R-A-P word.

Fourth, a Bowling Ball. Yes. You heard right. I threw away a bowling ball.

I'll be honest. This is the item that elicited the "It's too much trouble to keep crap" comment. It was a present, to a child, from someone who probably was hoping that their wildest dreams would come true and she would marry them because of the bowling ball. I knew the minute I saw that thing being carried through the front door that it was going to be trouble. I saw that child go on a mission for our church. 18 months I kept the bowling ball. I saw her go back to college. Still the bowling ball at my house. I saw her date lots more boys. Still the ball was rolling around in my spare room. I saw her get married. At each step I would say, "do you want this bowling ball?" Only by the time I said it for the last time I probably put a stupid in front of the bowling ball. I couldn't see that ball going anywhere but with me to the grave. I gave it to Good Will. So arrest me.

Fifth: You might dub this the "shoe portion" of this event. I most assuradly threw away Red platform sandals that were never worn, never will be worn, except for a talent show where someone (one of my kids) might be trying to look really stupid.

Guess what? I think these originally came from Good Will and they went right back to the mother ship for more non good times

And Last, I tearfully thew away a pair of Homer Simpson Slippers.

These were a Christmas gift to my youngest who had size 13 feet and these were only a size 12. He stuffed his foot into them anyway and shuffled around on Christmas. Yep. He put his foot in Homer's mouth and we all laughed wildly as you do on Christmas when something ridiculous turns up. Despite the sentimental value, the warm and fuzzy memories, what am I supposed to do with a pair of Homie slippers the rest of my life? Look at them and cry? Look at them and wish they had a little spot in them I could push that said "doh"? I don't think so.

In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit that my neurosis is one that I am comfortable with for now. I embrace it with the arms of the universe, and shout loudly and clearly, for all to hear and witness:

I, yes I, am someone who throws away a bowling ball.

Bring on the Government Intervention

When we were dating, the Tim-o-tee used to say that when people got old, their blood was brown.

Really? Is this what you say to a beautiful girl to get her to marry you? Really?

He loved my horrified reaction. So he tried to think of more horrifying things to reel me in. Like this: I think the government should withhold food and medication from the elderly. I would giggle and then he would nod his head and then hold his mouth all serious and not blink. It was all a ruse to get me to touch him. I would give him a little push and then he would grab my hand and not give it back. Then he would say: Think of all the money that would save. BILLIONS!! He'd always say billions like it really was going to happen.

Really? I'm trying to get to know you, and now I know you want the government to kill old people? Really?

This last weekend I spent with Tim's siblings and his mother at the sibling rivalry reunion. The mother is getting old. The siblings are getting old. The one and only non sibling (me) is getting old. I noticed bad backs and gray hairs and bottles of pills. And I think I saw brown blood when I had a hangnail go bad on me.

It's so like Tim to go before his blood got brown.

I need to go sit on the couch now.



PS IF any of you out there are a future employer, please know the writer of this blog does not, nor ever will condone withholding food or medication from the elderly at the hands of the government of the United States of America or at the hands of anyone else including yourself. This blog has never been political, and never will be because I'm only about stupid things(exceot for the posts about my grankids, those are FAR from stupid). But, I just started thinking about that title up there, and then I started thinking about all you wackies out there who might read this thing and then I started thinking about how people might get the wrong idea and not know it's supposed to be a joke, A JOKE and now I find myself in the middle of this here big ol' disclaimer. Oh boy, now I'm just making myself even more tired and now I'm going to REALLY sit on the couch, and fall asleep with the remote in my hand and I'm going to cradle it in my arms like it is a little tiny baby with bright happy red blood.

hummmph.

Sawyer Timothy....Why Yes, He IS a Delicious Morsel. Thank You for Noticing

Yep. That's me. And SoyBean. On Sunday, his blessing day. It was right after the event actually. In this shot, I was asking him if he had seen Grandpa Tim. (In heaven, or, ten minutes ago, I wasn't picky) He looked right into my eyes and smiled and then concentrated real hard and during the concentrating those little lips actually said "whao". Which we all know means: Yes most beloved grandmother.

And since we're on the subject of SoyBoy, today I saw the little Mister again. After he was fed, and burped and changed, I looked into his sweet face, and in an effort to entertain, I stuck my tongue in and out and in and out again. He looked right into my eyes, smiled, he concentrated real hard, and then lo and behold during the concentrating I saw that little tongue go in and out and in and out again.

Seriously. Be still my beating heart.

So Yeah. I'm totally clued into his learning patterns. And Yeah. Tim and SoyBean are definitely buddies.

A Sunday Evening Email from a Dear Friend AND a Bob Costas Update

Dear Mommacita:

I think that is it time for you to move on and find a new boyfriend

Sorry about your luck.

Carol

Oh boy.

PS (this ps is not part of the email, it is merely me trying to make the world a better place.)

I didn't watch the Superbowl. This is my privilege as a widow. However, when I flipped on the TV this morning to catch my FAVORITE SINGING GROUP THE MORMON TABERNACLE CHOIR, the TV happened to be on the Pre Pre Pre Pre Pre a million times Pre Game show with Bob Costas. I said Duh-aaaaaaaaaang when I saw him..... ...even though

1. It was the Sabbath,

and

2. I was alone and it takes a lot for me to speak out loud to my own lil' self.

The Costas' hair was clearly 5 times as dark as it was during the Olympic Games. IT WAS. Holy Grecian Formula Batman. Did any of you notice that? Did you? Huh?

Then tonight while I was at Dubers and Lars', He was on the Post Post Post Game Show. His hair had lightened during the Superbowl. I had to stop myself from snorting.


I SWEAR to you this is true. And truth always makes the world a better place. It does. And you know it. And I'm talking to you, Mr. Michael Phelps. And you too Bob Ridiculously Fakey Hair.