Darkness...

Sometimes, there are no words for what happens in life. In those days, the only appropriate words are "I'm sorry" and "what can I do." Even then, they're still not enough.

What's old is new again...

So, about last week's election...hmmm, no fun talking about that.

My girls had to clean out the attic last week and this week, I rummaged through the attic looking for clothes to recycle down from one child to another. My oldest child never participates in the annual ritual because she is at the top of the pile - a position she relished until she realized she had to purchase her own clothes.

I remember having to try on hand-me downs - my mother accepted clothes from everyone! For every one piece of clothing that showed marginal promise, there were 200 pieces that shouldn't have been privileged to see the light of day. There was nothing like being forced to keep clothes just because they were long enough in the legs or loose enough across the shoulders. Forget the fact that those clothes looked like styles from the 70's, Bellbottoms! I can't go to school in polyester! Embroidery? You want me to step out of the house in embroidered jeans?

My kids' closets look like the clothes I rejected 20 years ago. It's more than ironic, it's hysterical because I buy the clothes - except for the oldest girl's - she's on her own...but not at Christmas, I'll buy her clothes at Christmas.

The scripture (yes, this saying is from the Bible)"Nothing is new under the sun" can apply to so many things in life. The record losses in jobs and the steep dive of the stock market - rampant social upheaval and the rage against the institution. Like bellbottoms, it's happened before, it's happening now and chances are, it will happen again...

Things they are a changin'

I think I am going to refrain from watching the news this week - just for kicks. It seems that my mood is susceptible to the fluctuations of the stock market. If the market is up at 12noon, then I smile, if the market dives 350 points just before the closing bell, I feel a little worry in my heart. Seriously, what the heck?

Since when did the stock market gain such power in our lives? It just doesn't make any sense! Not only is it just one indicator among hundreds of indicators, but there's nothing I can do about it and so, why should I allow it to have any more influence on my life than it already does. Now, news stations have stock market boxes in the corner so our moods can go up and down with the unpredictable swings.

It's time to use my time in front of the talk-tube in a more useful manner or for that manner, turn it off. What am I really missing? If the world is going to implode, chances are, I'll find out without watch ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox News, CNN, etc telling me about the 1000 ways our world is coming to an end. I already know that story and its drastically different than what they're telling everyone else.

So, tomorrow through Friday, no more tv news. Not sure what that means for me at the gym, I guess I'll be watching more HGTV. Instead of watching the news, I think I'm going to spend that time praying to the One who actually knows and can do something about what's going on. What a novel thought...

I'm out.

The Art of Being Funny...

Tonight, I got to do stand-up comedy. It was my second shot at this dangerous little art form this year. I did it once in February and since no one threw anything at the stage, it was an easy "yes" when the invitation for tonight's gathering came in a few months ago.

For the past month, I've been trying out new bits...bits is the fancy comedy term for the little stories comedians (or in my case, comediennes) tell.

Being funny isn't easy. Matter of fact, no one really wants to brag about the fact that they are funny. "Yeah, I know how to crack 'em up..." It seems that one of the most important qualifications of being a comedienne is the fact that you aren't sure if you are funny or not. It's something you aren't sure of until the audience actually laughs...

It seems that comedy is the most honest form of communication out there. You can tell when someone is laughing and when someone is just humoring you by doing that fake "I'm going laugh so you don't feel like a loser" laugh. In comedy, there's no wondering if you are funny, the audience is always honest. If they don't laugh, you know what's up.

So, as I have been working on my bits, there's that nagging chatter in the back of my brain about what it will take to make them laugh. I realized early on that people won't laugh if I talk about what I think is funny, but they will laugh if I talk about things they are afraid of or won't talk about themselves.

For instance, why will a woman buy a shirt on clearance for $3.99 even though it is two sizes too small? It's like we can't pass up a bargain, even though it isn't right for us - we buy it anyways. Or, why do we bring the wrong size clothes in to the dressing room. For some reason, we can't bring ourselves to select the size we know we wear, we tend to sandwich ourselves into the size that we wore five years ago when we were 20 lbs thinner.

Women don't like talking about that stuff, but they will listen and laugh to someone else talking about it.

I like doing comedy. It's a challenge and I feel kinda like I'm skydiving when I do stand-up. I'm not sure how I'm going to land - I might even splat, but I do enjoy the journey in between.

I'm done.

The Mystery Chronicles

Thanks to the inspiration from the Bullock household, I decide to try my hand at writing a childrens' book...here's what I wrote tonight. Not proofed, only brainstormed, but tell me what you think.

The Mystery Chronicles

Prologue…
It was too early for Mystery to go out for her morning walk. But Sara Beth snapped on her collar anyways. As they walked toward the backdoor, Mystery was alarmed to see Allison crying at the kitchen table.
Mystery knew that some thing was wrong.
During their morning walk, Sara Beth would always tell Mystery about her plans for the day. Mystery never said anything while Sara Beth was talking, but always wondered what a “cell phone” was because it seemed to be all that Allison would ever talk about.
But, today was different. Sara Beth was silent. As they walked through their neighborhood, Mystery would turn around every few steps and she would see Sara Beth wiping her sleeve across her red-rimmed eyes. Seeing one of her people so sad was more than Mystery could bear. The large German Shepard abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Wishing she had words that Sara Beth could hear, Mystery communicated in the only way she could with her human: “Woof…”
She had hoped that her soft bark would comfort Sara Beth and let her know that she knew something was wrong, but Sara Beth wasn’t paying attention.
“Com’on Mystery,” snapped Sara Beth. “Mom says we have to hurry up. Com’on, let’s go.”
Sara Beth pulled on Mystery’s lease, but the 90-pound dog was too big for the 12-year old girl to move. “Come...on…Mystery,” plead the crying girl. But, a moment later, Sara Beth dropped Mystery’s lease and sat down on the curb to put her head in her hands. Her shoulders began shaking. A muffled sob escaped from under her hands.
Mystery realized that Sara Beth was sobbing once again. The large dog walked over to the young girl and licked her hand. “Woof…”
Sara Beth lifted her head and looked into her dog’s eyes. “It’s not fair, Mystery. Mom and Dad are wrong.”
Mystery lifted her ears. While she didn’t understand everything her humans said, she did know that Mom and Dad were in charge of the house. Especially, Mom, because she was the one who made sure that the Sara Beth and Allison fed Mystery each day. Mystery liked Dad, too, because he always fed Mystery the treats she was only supposed to have once a week. The man in the white coat Mom called Dr. Patterson said that Mystery should only have treats once a week, but Dad fed them to her anyways.
“Mystery, I am going to miss you,” cried Sara Beth. She put her arms around the dog’s neck and buried her face into Mystery’s fur and wailed.
“Woof,” replied Mystery. Where am I going?
Luckily, Sara Beth explained. “We can’t take you with us, Mystery. Mom and Dad said that since we have to move into an apartment, we can’t take you with us. It’s not fair that Dad lost his job and we have to move out of our house. It’s just not fair!”
Suddenly, Sara Beth jumped to her feet and began kicking the grass. Mystery’s ears popped up and she backed away from the angry girl. “What are you doing, Sara Beth?”
“It’s not fair,” yelled Sara Beth into the air. “I don’t want to move…I don’t want to leave my friends…I…want…to…keep…my…dog!”
Mystery was scared. She had seen Sara Beth yell at her younger sister, but she had never seen Sara Beth so mad.
Then, it was over. Sara Beth abruptly stopped yelling and dropped her head down to her chest. Mystery cocked her head and watched Sara Beth breathe in and out. A minute later, Sara Beth picked up Mystery’s lease and tugged the dog forward. “We gotta get back, Mystery,” she whispered.
Allison was still sitting at the table crying when Mystery trotted through the back door toward her food dish. Mom was talking on the phone and taking putting things into big boxes. While Mystery ate her breakfast, she listened as her humans talked. The, something Mom said caught Mystery’s attention: “…yes, she just came back in. We’ll be there in about an hour.”
Mystery decided not to finish her breakfast. She went over to Allison and put her head into the little girl’s lap. For some reason Mystery wasn’t hungry anymore.


Chapter One
Mystery Ride

Mystery hated crates. Furtheremore, she was deeply offended that these humans forced her to ride in one. As far as Mystery was concerned, crates were only for dogs who had accidents and it had been years since Mystery had an accident. Not only was she no longer with her humans, but these people penned her into a wire prison. Mystery decided that she would let them know how she felt.
“Woof! Woof! Woof-woof-woof-woof!” barked Mystery, as loud as she could.
“Hush up, back there,” yelled the man in the front of the big car. He was talking to another human that looked like Mom, but Mystery had no idea who these people were.
“Woof-woof-woof…arrrrrr…woof-woof-woof!” continued Mystery. She wanted out of that crate.
“It’s okay,” answered the woman sitting next to the man.
Mystery stopped barking. Something about the woman’s voice comforted the scared Mystery.
The woman continued: “I know you are confused, but you are going to be just fine. You’ll like the Hancocks. They are really nice people.”
Mystery sat and listened to the woman talk. Mystery didn’t understand what was going on or where Sara Beth and Allison were, but the woman seemed like was trying to be nice to Mystery.
A short time later, the big car stopped. While Mystery calmed down after listening to the woman talk, she got nervous when she saw the man and woman get out of the car and walk to the front door of a large house.
Minutes later, Mystery saw the man and woman return to the car. But, they were joined by another man and woman. Then the door opened, Mystery backed up into the corner of her cage and began barking. “Woof! Who are you! Woof! Where are my people? Woof-woof!! Get back, I’ll bite you! “…Arrrrr –Woof!
The humans didn’t seem to be scared by Mystery’s vicious laughs. The one man grabbed Mystery’s collar from outside of the crate and snapped on a leash. Then, the nice woman opened her crate and tried to coax Mystery out of the car.
Now, Mystery was terrified.
It was time for her to figure out how to escape. She didn’t remember being scared when she got into the crate, but that is because Sara Beth and Allison were there and they told her to get in. Now, her humans were no where around and Mystery was all alone.
She pulled against the leash and tried to escape. Whenever Mystery pulled the leash with Sara Beth or Allison, she could go anywhere she wanted to go. This time, however, Mystery couldn’t pull away. The man was too strong and pulled Mystery toward the house.
Where am I going? wondered Mystery. She was very afraid. Many times Mystery tried to sit down, but the man kept forcing her toward the front door. “Arrrrrrr….woof!” cried Mystery. Where’s Sara Beth and Allison? Could they be inside of the house? Maybe they are going to meet me here?
Those good thoughts faded as Mystery neared the entryway. The front door was open, but she couldn’t see inside. Mystery began to panic. What’s in there? Mystery’s mind was racing and most of all she wanted to know if she would she ever come outside again?
Mystery kept pulling against the leash until she heard the second woman’s voice. It was calm and nice, like the woman in the car. “Hi Mystery. It’s okay.”
The only reason Mystery stopped moving around was to listen to the sound of the woman’s voice. She sounded soothing, kind of like Mom’s voice. Maybe, thought Mystery, I’ll find out if they know Sara Beth and Allison before try to run away.
“Mystery, come here,” coaxed the woman. Her arms were out toward Mystery.
The confused dog sat down and looked around the new space. Mystery was sitting in a small room and she couldn’t really see anything else. There was a room to one side, but the two men were blocking her view. She thought that she could see something interesting, but she wasn’t quite sure.
“Mystery,” repeated the woman softly. “Come here to me.”
In slow, meek steps, Mystery walked toward the nice woman. As she approached the Mom-like woman, Mystery was happy to see that a treat, like those Dad gives her, was waiting in the woman’s hand. But, just was Mystery was going to eat the treat, she heard a noise: “Stop barking!”
Forgetting about the treat, Mystery strained her neck to look for the source of the noise. She scanned the faces of the humans, who were talking to each other. Except for the nice woman, who was still crouched down waiting for Mystery to take the treat.
The woman smiled. “Do you hear Rio talking to you?’
The other humans laughed. Mystery was confused. She looked around the room and tried to figure out who Rio was. Then, she heard Rio again: “Stop barking!”
That was it! Mystery wanted to know who was yelling at her. She forgot about the treat and began stretching toward the room next to where they were gathered. “Whoa, Mystery!” cautioned the man holding her leash. “You’ll have plenty of time to meet Rio and all of the other folks in the house.”
Who else is here? wondered Mystery.
The humans went back to talking to each other and Mystery sat back down and looked around. There were some stairs next to her that lead upstairs. For a moment, Mystery got excited. She liked stairs because where Sara Beth and Allison lived, stairs led up to rooms with beds. Mystery liked beds because they were big and soft and Mom let Mystery sleep on the beds while the girls were away each day. Mystery wasn’t exactly sure where the girls went, but she watch them get into a big yellow car each morning and in the afternoon, the girls would come home and complain about some place they called “school.”
Before Mystery could get sad about not seeing Sara Beth and Allison, the man and the woman from the car opened the front door. She tried to lunge for the front door, not realizing the other man was holding her leash. “Hold on, there Mystery,” said the man. “You are staying here with us.”
Instantly, Mystery turned and looked at the man. She was staying there. Suddenly, it all began to make sense. That’s why Sara Beth and Allison were crying when they put her into the car. After five years with her humans, Mystery realized she was never going to see them again.
“What’s wrong Mystery?” asked the woman. She bent down to stroke the peppery-gray dog lying in the Hancock’s foyer.
The man bent down and began stroking Mystery’s coat, as well. “It’s okay, Mystery. I think you are going to like it here.”


Chapter Two
Too many to count

Trigger was the first one to see the dog coming up the walk. He jumped down from the window and headed toward the dining room.
An anxious bird paced back and forth in its cage. “Trigger, Trigger, what did you see?” asked Tequila. Her blue and green feathers fluttered with each word. Her voice was high and screechy. She was nervous about what was about to happen. “Is it here? I know it is…see, I told you they were going to bring in someone new…”
The sleek, Bobtail cat strutted slowly toward the cage. While Trigger was very interested in watching the new dog come into the house, he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to torture the endless noisy cockatiel bird by stringing out the details of an arrival the dining room-bound bird couldn’t see.
Trigger walked toward Tequila’s cage and sat down. He swished his tail back and forth across the carpet a few times. After a few moments, the bird fluttered down to her bottom perch and began pacing in front of the cat. It never seemed to occur to Tequila that Trigger was stalling to make her crazy. In fact, Tequila never seemed to think about anyone other than herself. It wasn’t her fault, she was alone in the dining room by herself much of the time.
“Tell me!” screamed Tequila.
Trigger was used to Tequila’s hysterics. In fact, watching Tequila freak out is what made Trigger’s nonchalance so much more satisfying. He stretched out his long tan colored body and began grooming his paws.
“Tell me!” screamed Tequila again.
“Tell her!” squawked Rio from the living room.
“Yes, tell me,” yelled the dining room bird. She was shaking with fear.
Once Trigger saw a few feathers drift toward the floor, he decided to end his little game. The tricky little cat stood up and walked to the edge of Tequila’s cage.
“Would you like to know what’s going on?” asked Trigger.
“Tell me, Trigger!” pleaded Tequila.
“Well, it’s like this…” began Trigger. The cat began to tell the dining room bird about the scandalous arrival of a new dog.
“You should see how big it is,” dramatized Trigger. “It’s huge!” The mischievous little cat sat on its hind paws and spread apart his front paws. “Huge!”
“Oh, no,” cried Tequila. “No one here is that big.”
Sensing that Tequila was nearing a full fit, Trigger rubbed his paws together and launched into the next level of the story. “Yes, he’s big, but you should have seen his teeth.”
“Oh, no!” moaned Tequila, her body shaking more than before. She overturned her water dish as she used her beak to scamper back toward higher ground. Dozens of green and blue feathers fluttered toward the floor. “Oh, no!” she cried over and over again. Then, the little bird began fluttering around her cage. “It’s going to eat me! I know it!”
“Only if it likes the taste of crazy birdie,” replied Trigger. The fun of upsetting Tequila was over now that she was flying around her cage making too much noise. Trigger swished his way back toward the living room, passing an annoyed Rio on the way.
The 30-year old Macaw bird flew down to the floor in front of the sly and tricky cat. While the neighborhood birds feared the Hancock’s notorious kitty, Trigger was more crafty than crazy. He knew better than to mess with the wise Macaw.
“Trigger!” barked Rio. The middle-aged bird rose to his full eight inch height and stared into the eyes of the once- triumphant cat.
“Oh, Rio,” sighed Trigger heavily. He licked his paws and tried to seem nonplussed. “Oh, what now?”
Rio raised his wing and pointed it toward the haughty little cat. The Macaw leaned forward until his wing touched the cat’s nose. “You know exactly what’s wrong, Trigger.”
“You tell, Rio!” cried the chorus of parakeets in the corner cage in the living room. They usually didn’t say much, but they were universally afraid of Trigger, who as a kitten spent many hours trying to eat them when their humans weren’t around. So, the parakeet triplets appreciated it when Rio put Trigger in his place.
“Hush, girls,” shushed Rio. She turned her attention toward Trigger once more. “You know that Tequila can’t see what’s going on, so why do you torture her?”
Trigger looked around the room, pretending not to see the Macaw’s wing in his face. “Oh, you know – well, it’s just fun,” replied Trigger.
Rio poked Trigger’s nose with his wing. “Fun, you saw,” began the Macaw. “Would it be fun if I pecked your nose?” Rio snapped his beak a few times.
Instantly alarmed, Trigger scooted past Rio and jumped into the window sill. The parakeets cheered while the scampering cat ran away.
But, the cheering stopped when the front door opened and the living room pets heard a familiar sound: “Woof!”

Turn back the clock...

Sometimes life just runs you right over, doesn't it?

I forgot what I was going to say...

Earlier this afternoon, I had a great blog topic. Now that I've got time to write, I don't remember it any more...so, I'll talk about something else that happened today, namely, the three things I procrasted finishing today:

1. Grocery Shopping...we've got food. Problem it, nothing goes together. It's a big 'ole conglomeration of pieces parts. But, I'm not in any mood to solve the problem. When the kids ask "what's to eat," my answer is "something with bread" because we've got lots of bread...however, we are low on the stuff that goes inside the bread.

2. Filing...usually, I love putting stuff away, especially paperwork. Not today. Sure hope there's nothing important in that pile.

3. Laundry...sure the pile of laundry is taller than my eight year old, but I'm not in the mood to walk up and down the steps over and over again. I don't care to wash and fold laundry that's going to end right back up in the laundry basket on Tuesday (unworn and still folded).

I did make dinner - but that's the only meal I made today. Clearly, it's a bad mommy day. I am flying way under the standard for good mommies. Tomorrow, I'll care. Today...not so much.

When did I get old?

This year, my kid is going to homecoming. How did that freaking happen? Seriously, I still remember my homecoming - I thought that I would be old enough for my memories of homecoming to fade before my offspring experienced this slice of high school life.

Homecoming is always a special time for me...but not for the reasons one would think. Since I was taller than the other guys and could kick most of their butts, it's no surprise that boys weren't beating down my door to ask me for a date. One year, I did get asked and then, he promptly stood me up after I had purchased not one, but two dresses for the event. My senior year, the teachers had to cajole on the of the football players to ask me to Homecoming and since he was the only one likely to ask, I said 'yes.' Then, my friends all got catty and stopped talking to me that week. The claws came out during the homecoming attendent voting and it seems that I was the only one that got scratched...that's what happens when you are the Homecoming Queen. Yeah, me.

So, my memories of homecoming aren't the best. And now, I have to try to keep my memories (baggage) from infecting her experience.

I keep asking myself why I still care about the fact that I was never asked to Homecoming or Prom. It's been 20 years and deep down, way down, I am still a little tweaked. Stupid, I know.

As I look at my daughter and think about how strange it is to watch her grapple with the quasi-socio-political quagmire that outlines the high school experience, I hope that perhaps she might realize her self-worth much sooner than her mother did. That her enjoyment of life experiences isn't tied to a specific "must-have" list, but rather she enjoy the good of life and learn from the bad.

That's what I hope for, but it's up to her to deliver.

Blah...blah...blah...

By all accounts, today should have been fabulous...I slept in while my little Roosters got themselves ready for school ( I even managed to ignore the constant beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep... yeah, it was that annoying. Someone didn't turn off their alarm clock before they went downstairs.

Still, the sun was shining and the air was fresh. My house was barely tidy (which is the goal) and I had no plans for the day.

It should have been perfect.

And yet, I spent the day in a funky mood. There was five happy minutes while I was eating my Orange Sesame Lean Cuisine, but then, back to funky.

So, I pondered my blah-ness on the treadmill. That didn't help.

Then, I had my customary post-work out ice cream cone...but that didn't help. Then, I got worried.

Next, I had a Snickers bar after running all of my errands (why did I even bother running three miles?)...that did help my mood a little. Chocolate is always the go-to rescue. It never fails.

In fact, it worked so well, I decided to bake a cake tonight, just so I could slap some chocolate frosting on top...good for me.

Orange Sesame Lean Cuisine...

While there is not such thing as being in "love" with a diet food, I must admit my intense fondness for Smart Ones Orange Sesame Chicken with rice. It is so yummy. I just ate one. It's the only diet food that I can eat just one of and be happy.

Usually, diet food is just an excuse to eat three of something, rather than just one. For example...slow-churned ice cream, which is half-fat and one-third less calories. My brain sees the slow-churned ice cream and immediately calculates that I don't have to have just one serving of slow-churn because afterall, it is lower fat than the regular version I would have purchased. Instead, I scoop out the full-fat equivalent, therefore reaping me more ice cream. Don't try to follow my math...it works for me.

But, the orange sesame is different. It's tasty, it's meaty and best of all, it's filling and I don't understand why. I also don't know how to make the orange sauce they use, but I'm gonna figure that part out later...when I eat the other one in the freezer.

Well-timed suicide...

So, we finally got around to buying a new car. We've been threatening to do it for a few years, probably since the minivan turned 8 years old (4 years ago). My husband has been begging me to ditch the space shuttle, but as long as she cranked on everyday, I was willing to live with the embarassment of driving a space-shuttle shaped minivan. Who wants to have a car payment just so that I don't have to drive around in an ugly car? Of course, if you read my previous posts, being ugly was the least of her problems...

All it took was a trip to the dealership to change everything. We meant to buy a minivan, but through a bit of twisting and turning, we ended up buying a SUV, most importantly a vehicle with 140,000 miles less than the minivan...go figure.

As we were leaving the dealership, I swear that the minivan looked sad. She saw me hop into the new car and drive away with a smile on my face...I'm sure that she thought I had forgotten her. Maybe, I did.

For the next three days, I drove the new car. I had to! For the first time in months, I was driving in a car with windshield wipers worked in the rain, not only during dry weather. I had air conditioning...and I still haven't turned it off yet...not to mention, doggone it, the new car was just prettier and I must say...I looked good in it.

Matt gave me until Tuesday to get ride of the minivan. He was going to have it hauled away, but I was convinced I could sell it. So, Tuesday evening, I was talking with a friend, who was looking for a replacement vehicle (a cheap one) and I was extolling the virtues of my minivan...yes, I was honest about her quirks. I gave her a bargain price and she said her husband would come by and look at it the next day.

I arrived home an half-hour later, oblivious to the fact that my minivan wasn't in front of my house. When I announced that the minivan had been sold, Matt shared an even bigger announcement: the minivan was dead.

Gone.

It seems that my minivan dropped her transmission without warning. She had cranked up every day for the eight years we'd owned her. We never had any warning that this was coming (I'm sure there was a warning, but clearly, we didn't see it). No lights were on to indicate something was up, she just died.

I think it was suicide.

Matt said that she had to go on Tuesday and she decided to go out on her own terms. Don't blame her.

So, on Thursday, I sat in a downtown parking lot and waited for the tow company to come and get her. There would be no resurrection this time. It was just time to let her go. Right before they arrived, I took her picture and let one tear fall down my cheek. The tow dude laughed at me for caring so much about a car.

I spent countless solitary hours in that minivan. Most days, only she and God heard my truest feelings. I wiped thousands of tears on her seats. Only she knows how I sound when I sing really loud and she was the last thing I talked to before I got out of the car, arriving at one task or another.

Maybe she was just a car. But, she was also a safe place for me for more than 100,000 miles of life over the last eight years. You can't always find friends like that everyday.

I'll miss her.

Collective Bargaining...

If you know us, you are probably aware of our "snack bandit." It's an issue that we've dealt with for years the source of many frustrating moments. Cakes, brownies, fruit snacks, cookies or any other sugar-laden treat has a particular motto in our house: now you see it, now you don't.

It's not that I don't want the kids to have treats, it just that they eat them all in one sitting and I usually don't get any. I love treats, too. The only thing standing between me and the 20 lbs I want to lose is dessert. And carbs...I love carbs, too.

Anywhoo...I picked up a couple of boxes of fruit snacks to take whenever we've got a game or something afterschool and we can't get home for snack. Well, last night, I noticed that someone, perhaps a group of three girls or one solitary eight year old, but someone had picked off one entire box of fruit treats.

I'll fast forward through the usually denials and emphatic finger pointing and move on to the fun part. Well, in order to get the guilty part to fess us, I usually have to throw them all under the bus and threaten to ground them all from the computer and the Wii if no one 'fesses up. This method always creates more peer pressure than I could ever generate with threats.

Then, the most important part...I leave the room.

The girls are left to hash/beat/cajole/threaten each other if the guilty party doesn't come clean, kinda like a collective bargaining session. There are bribes for coming clean. Periodically, there's a threat of minor bodily harm or the always effective "I won't let you come in my room anymore" threat. Typically, this process only takes about 1/2 hour. I know things are coming to a head when one of the non-guilty parties is sent to me bringing the following statement: "So, what's the punishment for the one who did it?"

I dunno...depends on how I'm feeling that day. Depends on how long it takes them to come back to me.

Last night, I had two words for the union gathered in my dining room...No Deal.

The non-guilty party scurried back in the room and frantic whispering ensued. I wasn't in any mood to make a deal because I know who swiped the treats.

A few minutes later, the guilty party shuffled into the kitchen with a meek smile and spilled her story. After I conducted the all-important verification process (this is to make sure that her sisters weren't making her the 'fall guy'), I thanked her for telling the truth.

Then I took away her Webkins, which is a fate worse than a spanking and grounding put together.

I don't always win, but when I do, good for me.

"Face"-ing It...

On the last episode of Barbie's Road Trip - Driving at Night...

I had insomnia. It was a well-timed bout of insomnia because when I came downstairs, my front door was open. Since I live in a more urban area, having your front door open in the middle of the night isn't the best way to keep one's stuff on the inside, rather than unintentionally on the outside.

You know, people do weird things when they can't sleep. Some eat junk food, some watch infomercials and others pace the floor. Not me...I finally found the time to get on Facebook.

I've had friends nagging me for months about getting this done and I've been dragging my feet. So, at 2:30am, I got to work. First point of contention...figuring out which photo to use. Let's be honest, I wanted to find a great photo of me that captured my best side. I wanted long lost friends to exclaim, "Wow! Barb hasn't aged a day!" Yeah, I'm shallow. I don't want to look old - at least not yet. I haven't earned the wrinkles yet (but, since Katie has her temps, I am sure that I'm going to earn some soon).

Well, in order to achieve such lofty standards and impress people I haven't seen since the high-flying, hair-spray raising 90's, I had to resort to a bit of trickery...a slightly blurry photo of myself.

I found a photo of myself that I loved. Part of the reason why I loved it - it's kinda blurry. The blurry portions erase about 5 years off my face and my teeth look flawless.

This evening, I "asked" if people wanted to be my friend. Feels a little like a throw-back to jr. high when you had to circle "yes" or "no." I usually always got the "no." I sure hope my luck has changed. What happens if someone says "no." Watch...it will happen and I'll be a big 'ole loser.

(timeout...I'm thinking)

I had to think about what I am going to do if someone rejects. Why would someone that I haven't talked to in 20 years from high school want to be my friend? How do they know I'm not crazy? How do I know that they aren't crazy? Can someone stalk in Facebook...am I just wiggin' out for nothing?

Of course, I put the name of this blog into my Facebook. Just so you know, at this point, no one knows this blog exists because I haven't told you about it. Well, that's over - so much for the invisible blog.

It's night-night time and I sure hope I can fall asleep. Setting myself up on Facebook has consumed a great deal of time and effort. I'm not sure what I can do to top that...

Glad I stayed awake...

Usually, I set the tv timer for 30-45 minutes and I'm always (and I mean always) asleep before the tv goes off. But, not tonight. At first, I blamed it on that extra dish of slow-churned peanut butter ice cream...let's all say "yummy!" After awhile, I thought it was because I was subconsciously stressing out about the upcoming week (You know the week where you've got so much to do that you've skated past freaking out and you're cruising 70 mph toward panic, maybe not panic, but definitely panic-like.)

Anywho...I finally woke up 30 minutes ago (at 1:03pm)and came downstairs. GLAD I DID! When to my surprise, I realized that my front door was wide open. Nothing like a wide open front door in the middle of the night - and yes, all of my suburban friends would be mildly panicked, too. This text-book definition of a "God-thing" is the only good reason for insomnia. It's not like I've got a bunch of high end items in my house, but I'm not trying to give it away for free either.

After checking to make sure that a late-night visitor wasn't hiding in my kitchen or basement (if he is, well, he's now locked in the basement), I decided to eat a snack. And, what goes better than a snack: telling your friends that you forgot to close your front door and what type of snack you are eating at 1:32 in the morning.

Here's hoping that I fall asleep soon. But, I can tell you this...tomorrow is going not going to be good...

Decision time...

We went to the dealership because we wanted to test drive a new car. I love new cars...just not new car prices.

After a glorious test drive in a brand, new vehicle, my frugal side emerged and I scooted toward the used car lot in search of an already depreciated vehicle with a few more miles, costing a few less shekels.

At some point, some of you are going to be reading this blog and I know that you will want to scream, "just buy the car and be happy!" And, I will be. But, it's been twelve years since I've had to buy a car. When I was a drug rep, free cars just showed up every sixty thousand miles. Then, I bought the minivan - and I've blocked that experience out. Matt brought his car seven years ago - it was new, but I wasn't there.

So, I'm a little anxious. Love me anyways.

She knows...

I began the day elated...we went and looked at cars yesterday and asked for some online quotes. Since no one in their right mind wants a minivan, it seems there are some good deals to be had on large boxes of metal that are only desirable to women with juice box drinking, sports playing, gigantic backpack dragging offspring.

And I want one.

But, I feel a little guilty. I think the minivan knows that we're getting ready to give her the 'ole heave ho. While we were looking at vehicles, we parked the minivan off to the side so she couldn't see what we were doing. As exciting as it was to look at new vehicles, I did feel bad about the old girl...

Until it rained today. Apparently, the space shuttle knows that her days are numbered. Now, most of you know that the driver's window only goes up 1" every few hours, so I need three days notice before it rains so that I can get the window up in time. But, the piece de resistence was that the windshield wipers just stopped working today...nada, nothing. Which is a bummer when it's raining outside!

I could be embarassed, but since I was driving around with my window down in the light rain, I've already been embarassed and so, a little more embarassment - well, that's just another day in my life. Sigh.

Get out of my house!

It's the night before school starts and right now, it seems I am the only person smiling in my house. We've spent the day doing the stuff you're supposed to do the day before school starts - went shopping for a car (more on that...), ate 'The Last Supper' and went to the park.

So, we went car shopping. No, we didn't buy a car...

New topic...just came home from the gym. Why is it that I can kill myself running for mile after mile at the gym and still come home to eat a bowl of ice cream without guilt. Boy, that ice cream was good.

I've been working on this blog for about an hour. Truthfully, I've been watching the #1 Chick flick of all time for 59 minutes and about a hot minute typing. Fortunately for you all, I'm more interested in the movie.

I'm out.