Some people have incredible memories.  I am one of those blessed with such a memory.  I can still remember my three-year old Birthday party.  I remember the house we lived in and our neighbors.  Then, there are those who do not have a good memory.  It is as if they have a bunch of eraser crumbs where there should be memories.

A few days ago, one of my daughter's friends said he had read about this light bulb that still worked after several years.  It was in this old firehouse.  I excitedly said to him, "I know where that is!!  I walked to see that lightbulb when I was in the first grade with my class- Mrs. McGlinchey was her name."  It was a long walk too- our school was on 5th Street and the Firehouse was on College Avenue in Livermore, CA.  
He was probably thinking, "Say what?  You remember all of that?"  

I did!

I am trying to compile a scrapbook of those wonderful childhood memories.  It is going to take a long time, but I am excited about putting those memories on paper instead of risking the chance of them turning into pink eraser crumbs!

Well, it is official!  My daughter is driving!  Now I know how my mom felt when I kept saying, "Don't worry Mom! There are millions of drivers out there.  I'll be fine."  I was too........most of the time.

Some people hate to say this or even think it, but most teenagers will have an accident.  You just have to pray it is a minor fender bender- enough to knock them into realizing they are not invincible and they can get into wrecks.  One of the most eye opening statements my dad said to me was this, "Nobody wakes up and says, 'I'm going to get in a bad accident today and total my car."  That really made me think. 
I remember my first accident all too well.  I was riding around with my friend, Kim when I decided I didn't like the song playing on the radio.  Just as I reached down to look for V-100 FM, I banged into the back of a truck.  If that wasn't bad enough- that truck banged into a City vehicle.  A 3-car pileup during lunch hour.  Our friends were driving by, pointing, laughing.  I wanted to flip them off, but I didn't dare.  A cop was standing right beside me. Oh, how I dreaded breaking the news to my parents.  My dad was just relieved I wasn't drag racing.  My mom's reply was, "I knew it!"  I was thinking, knew what?  I still don't know what she knew.

For now, I will worry just like my mom did and pray she will not do some of the stuff I used to do!

 

I loved living in Georgia.  Those people could come up with the funniest little sayings.  My favorite was this little old grandma lady who made the following statement as she sat in her hospital bed recovering from pneumonia:
"Honey, I just as well outta crawl in a log and turn into mud."
I had to think about that a minute....crawl into a log- probably dark and dirty in there.  Turn into mud- die?

You may be wondering why I am talking about this? Well, because, I caught the flu and I didn't just want to crawl into a log I WAS the log.  I WAS mud.    I felt so horrible.  I kept fighting it- thinking, "Eeh, you're not getting sick."  But, the fever erupted and I ached everywhere- even my eyelids were hurting. 

On day four, I was thinking, okay, you can bake a chicken.  They are easy.  So, I threw this poor bird in the oven.  I was very tired as I prepared the gravy.  Dang, if the darn gravy didn't go lumpy. This has probably happened to me less then five times in my life.  All of those five times it was because I couldn't find the whisk.  Well, I was too tired to look for the whisk, so................there were lumps.  I looked at it.  I tried to ignore them, but they were there.  All of them, dancing around in the bottom of my roasting pan. My head was throbbing.  Before I could think rationally, I grabbed the pan and poured the gravy into a strainer in hopes of straining all the lumps out, only there was nothing underneath the strainer.  So, essentially, I poured good gravy down the drain.  David gasped in horror.  "Honey, the gravy........."
Oh no!  I exclaimed.  I just poured it down the drain.
My husband looked at the sink- little lumps had gathered in the strainer, "Um, that's okay, I know you don't feel good."
I went to bed. My last thought was, "I just as well outta crawl in a log and turn into mud!"

 

How can a person not get a warm fuzzy feeling when they hear or say the word ,Skittles.  You know, when you think about it, it really is a silly word.  Skittles!

A few months ago, the high school was playing one of their last Football games.  The weather was chilly, but not warm enough to warrant a hat and scarf.  The high school band was seated in the bleachers as one of their band instructors directed them from below.  Now, he is a likable guy.  All of the kids get along really well with him.  He stood there occasionally turning around to direct them to another song in hopes of cheering the team on.  Unfortunately, there was the hood to his jacket and Skittles.

I'm sure the Skittles were brought to munch on in between songs, but once the kids laid eyes on the huge open hood to his coat, it was quickly transformed into a Skittles hoop of sorts.  One by one, the kids would take turns trying to make a "basket" each time he would turn around to watch the game.  He would feel a few pings now and then as those who missed the "basket" let their Skittles go awry.  Several actually made baskets.  Of course, their band instructor had no idea what was going on, until he turned around a bit too quickly and it happened.  A Skittle hit him in the eye.  His eye twitched as he tried to collect himself.
   "All right, who is throwing Skittles?  I wanna know who is throwing Skittles!"
They all looked down at him.  I'm sure many of the kids busted a gut trying to hold in their laughter.  My daughter said every time he said the word, Skittles, that made the situation even more funny.
He looked over at the drummers 
Finally one of the main Skittle throwers came forward to confess.  He simply told her to knock it off.  Thing is, she didn't tell him there were many inside the hood of his jacket.  I wonder when he finally discovered those?

The people were so nice at the hotel.  We found our room and slept great.  We ended up having a wonderful time.  The wedding was beautiful.  The time we spent with their families was so much fun. 

The morning we were leaving, there was no time for breakfast.  So, I grabbed a  leftover cupcake from the shower.  That thing was so good, but I noticed something......there was something moving on it.  That something was a sugar ant!  They were everywhere!  They were also the smallest ants I have ever seen.  I said out loud, "Well, that 's just great!  I am eating ants! Ants!"  As I blurted this out, I was thinking to myself, "Well, Kendra, that's what you get for not eating the banana.  There were no ants on the banana!  You just had to grab a fattening cupcake!"

All Hannah could say was, "Oh, Mom that is so gross."  She didn't ask to share any drinks with me that day!  I wonder why

Eventually we made it home safely.  Now that I Iook back on the whole trip, the good times far outweighed the bad.  I would do it again, except I would not fly out of Houston, I would have a phone and i would not eat the cupcake!

Well, I covered spankings last night, I mind as well cover my worst trip ever.  My poor daughter, Hannah, had to suffer along with me. 

We love our friend, Brenda.  I used to babysit her.  She was there when Hannah was born and it was time for her to get married.  They decided to get married in Florida.  I can't remember the name of the Island right now, let's hope it comes to me before I finish this entry.

The plans were made for us to fly into Jacksonville around 5:00.  We would carpool with her brother to the island.  No problem.  We had to catch our plane in OKC at 10:00 am.  There was plenty of time.

As we left for the airport, I noticed my phone was dead, so I plugged it into the charger hooked up to my lighter.  I love those things.  As we were preparing to go through the massive X-Ray searching process, I remembered my phone.   It was still plugged into the charger, in my car.  Oh, I was so mad at myself!! There was no way I could go all the way back to my car.  So, I had to buy one of those calling card things.

Our plane left on time, we flew into Houston, switched planes in a hurried fashion.  They shuttled us onto the plane.  We sat down, the door closed, then.................. the plane sat there for three hours.  It was the middle of July.  The sweat was dripping off of me.  I looked like a relative of Alice Cooper. 

We arrived in Jacksonville after 9:00 pm. I had to rent a car.  I told them to give me the cheapest thing on the lot.  Even if it was a carnival buggy, I would drive it.  I did not have a cell phone.  I had no idea where we were going.  I finally came to the bridge to cross over to the Island- drat, still can't remember the name.   The toll booth person asked for $12.00.  I politely said, "Umm, this is a compact car, not a semi."
"I know," he replied, "It is $12.00."
I politely handed him the money, it wasn't his fault they were charging an arm, a leg AND a car to go across the darn bridge.  But I quietly cursed whoever needed to be cursed for that inflated price.  I was expecting maybe some disco lights, or a laser show to watch while I crossed it, but there was nothing!

As I crossed over the bridge to the island, it occurred to me, this wasn't a small island with maybe a few hotels to choose from, it was a town.  I was in trouble!  I had no idea where we were going.  Now, some of you may be thinking, "It should be on the invitation."  Yes, it was on the invitation.  The invitation was at home taped to our refrigerator!  A lot of good it was doing me! After I drove around for about 30 minutes, Hannah begged me to pull over and call David.  He answered.  I started to cry.  I was so tired, I was quickly spending my money on stupid things like bridges and I had no idea where I was going!!!  David was able to tell me what hotel we were staying at.  He said he would call them to let them know we were on our way.  I got directions at the 7-Eleven. 

Now, through all of this Hannah was as sweet as can be.  She tried to help out as best she could.  But, I was doing something that was making her want to jump out the window.  She finally mustered up the courage to tell me.  "Mom, if you sniff one more time!"
"Han, am I sniffing?"
"Yes, Mom and it is driving me crazy!"
I guess I was sniffing.  It was all that time we were held captive on the plane!

Continued............

Do you remember when you got your worst spanking or punishment?  This is a great question to ask when you are sitting around with a bunch of friends.  Some of the stories you hear will crack you up!

Mine?  Oh, I remember it well!  My dad worked the late shift, so my mom and her friend decided to take the kids to a pizza place.  This place was our favorite.  You could go up to the counter, ask for a penny and then ride this horse for free.  I got this crazy notion to stand in line over and over and get a bunch of pennies so I could ride the horse for hours.  This was the creative thinking of a seven year old. 

As soon as I had a handful of those delightful little circles of copper, my mom said those five dreaded words, "C'mon, it's time to go."

 Time to go? Time to GO?  NOOOOO  

I ran up to her, "Mom, we can't go, I haven't rode the horse yet? I have all my pennies, see..."

She said, "It's time to go, give those to somebody else."

I was thinking, I stood in line over and over and now this woman is telling me to give them to somebody ELSE?

I do not know what got into me, but I made the executive decision to throw those pennies all over the floor! To this day, I'd swear every noise stopped in that restaurant as all of those little circles of copper crashed to the floor.  They splattered everywhere, there stood my mother with a look of horror.  To make matters worse, my little brother, Troy decided to follow my lead, he threw his pennies on the floor too.  My mother's look of horror only got worse.  As we walked out of the restaurant, she grabbed my arm and said, "When we get home, both of you are getting a spanking!"

Well,  at least I wasn't going to be alone on this little upcoming adventure.  A spanking when I get home!  Oh, what joy!  NOT!

There was dead silence.  The three minute trip home was a long one.  Sure enough, once we got home, my mother grabbed us and we both got a good ol' spanking!  I was hoping she would mellow out some before we got home and reconsider, but she didn't.  I don't want anyone to think I was abused.  I wasn't.  And.....let me tell you, I never threw pennies or acted like that in public again!  However, the next time we walked into that same pizza joint, my halo was on tall and straight!

Kendra

Don't you just hate it when you are sailing along on the highway and then all of a sudden, you see it......   Everybody in front of you is applying their brakes.  Two thoughts quickly come to mind, Construction or an accident? Yesterday as I was on an exit ramp, I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed the following sign on the bumper of this rather obese (as my daughter likes to refer to big things these days) truck:  MOVE.  It was put on their in such a way I could read it through my mirror.  "How cool, such a bold statement.  That guy must be in a hurry all the time."  However, I could not MOVE because there was a little grandma driver three cars up driving the stated speed limit to exit the highway.  30 mph!  Once we hit the new highway, I passed the grandma and two other cars in order to MOVE out of the obese truck's way.  Things were once again going smoothly.  I estimated our arrival time just minutes away until I looked up ahead and there they were, brake lights.  Hmmm, accident or construction?  Traffic came to a complete stop.

Now, have you ever noticed when traffic is stopped on a freeway, the cars around you sort of become a temporary family?   You look around and notice all of you are in this little clutch of cars sort of moving along together.   I looked in my rear view mirror to see where MOVE was.  Whew, he was over in the next lane causing some other driver to want to MOVE.  I love to match people up with their cars.  Surprisingly, many people do indeed match their cars.  Short teen ager with the saggy pants- Honda Accord.  Computer Geek- Subaru.  Tiny petite mom with a million kids- HUGE SUV.  The smaller the woman, the larger the car.  I wonder why that is?   Grandma with just knuckles driving, HUGE Lincoln Continental.  Cowboy hat- truck of course.  I couldn't look into MOVE's truck, the windows were tinted.  I hate tinted windows in times like this.  I like to see who is driving the car!

So, there we were.  Luckily, I was in the right lane.  Nothing worse than realizing you are in the far right lane and the far right lane will soon come to an end up ahead.  I glanced around to take notice of my new family- there was the Covenant semi- he was proudly taking up a huge section of highway.  The cheerleader car- all I could see was bubble gum, wild hair and glittery cheerleader decals on the back window.  A mini van was next to us with a video going.  A few cars behind us was one of those cars I like to refer to as mail trucks.  They are as square as a car could be.  In fact, they look as though the UPS man delivered them to their new owner.  All the owner had to do was take it out of the box.  Some sort of goth person was driving that.  I doubt he'll ever become a mailman.   We slowly moved along.  After a few miles, we were free!  Ahhh, freedom.  It is times like these you want to gun it and do 100 mph just for a few minutes. 

Needless to say, we took an alternate route home!

I am a mom.  That's makes it possible for me to get the tap every now and then.  I'm not talking about taps from my husband, I'm talking about taps from my children.  Usually they occur around 3:00 in the morning and it means they are sick.  Most of the time, I quickly get out of the bed for fear there is a throw up about to occur.  Sometimes, I talk incoherently.  One time, I was awakened by Hannah because she had chigger bites driving her crazy.  My first response was, "Where Am I?"
Once she told me I was at home and then proceeded to tell me her issues with the chigger bites, I said to her, "Honey, put water on them."
Poor Hannah.  She walked around to her dad's side of the bed.  I don't think he made much sense to her either.

My friend Stacy asked me one time, "Kendra, are you nice to your kids when they wake you up in the middle of the night?
I told her I was extremely nice.  I would drop and do 20 if it meant they would quickly go back to sleep.

So, at 4:00 last night, I woke up to a child with high fever, sore throat and crying.  I helped her to the couch and luckily found Spongebob for her to watch.  I sat there exhausted, but yet, a thought came to mind.  She is 10.  Soon, I will no longer get the taps from either one of my children.  They will be old enough to take care of themselves.  So, I nestled into the chair and enjoyed one of the not so positive aspects of being a mom, but yet it makes me appreciate the blessings of motherhood!

I was watching America's Funniest Videos and I watched a video that made me so mad I think there was smoke bellowing out of my ears.  A mother was videotaping her kid throwing a fit because A. F. V. was not coming on that night.  He proceeded to grab a belt and start hitting her with it on her legs.  She was halfheartedly laughing.  I was mortified!  This is why we have problems with our kids today.

I'd like to think my kids are well behaved. They obey us most of the time.  Key word, most, being emphasized.  No kid is perfect.  I do not expect my children to be perfect.  How horrible would that be!    People have commented to me, "What is your secret?"  Well, I'll share it with you.  There are no perfect parents and no perfect kids.  Every family has their own little bit of dysfunction.  This is healthy.  It allows members of the family to grow and learn from life's lessons.  I think that is why God blesses us with such little ones to start off, so the whole family can grow together.  Of course, the only thing growing by the time they hit their teens is grey hair for most of us!

I believe in the three C's:  Choices, Consequences, Consistency.  There it is, my secret!

When Hannah, who is now in her teens, first tested my mom skills, she was two.  I told her she could not go into the kitchen because the floor was wet.  She looked at me and decided, "I am going to defy this woman!"  Off she went.  I calmly grabbed her arm and led her to the quiet chair.  I told her to sit there for not obeying me.  I'm sure the word, obey, sounded like blah, blah, blah to her.  But, she would soon learn the physical definition.
I never spanked her.  I just took a hold of her arm and led her to the quiet chair.  How many times did it take?  Eight!  Eight times I led her back to the chair.  By the sixth time, she was getting tired of being led back to the chair, I was tired of taking her there.  But, after that, when we said, "No," she listened and obeyed most of the time.  When she chose not to listen, to the quiet chair she went.  One minute for every year of age.

Give the child choices.  "You can choose to stop crying and stay in the store with me, or you can choose to keep crying, but then we will have to leave the store."  Emily chose to cry one day, so we left the store.  I returned once my husband got home.  I let her know too, "Mommy is not taking you with me because you did not obey me earlier."  The next time, she made the executive decision to stop crying.

Of the three- Consistency is the hardest, but it is also the most important.  I cringe when I hear parents continually say, "If you do that one more time..........." they never follow through, the kid knows this and the behaviors continue.  I do not believe in grounding for long periods of time.  Within a few days, the lesson is learned, on with life.  If a child is grounded for lengthy amounts of time, the parents tend to give in, the date of freedom becomes a blur and many times the reason for grounding is unknown.  Some people may say, "Gee, Kendra, you only ground for three days?"  Yes, but...........there is a catch. Those three days can be a mild or a severe grounding. 

Hannah went through a spell where she openly defied us over and over.  She was going to her room daily.  David and I both decided with the next infraction, she was going to her room for three days.  During those three days, she attended school, but when she returned home, she could come out of her room for bathroom and meals only.  To keep herself busy she worked on homework and wrote a paper on the importance of obeying your parents.  Her behavior was so much better after that. 

I also believe in creative consequences.  Writing sentences, pulling weeds, dusting floor boards, writing reports on whatever the infraction was.  The important thing is for the consequence to fit the infraction. 

Never, ever argue with your child.  You are the parent, they are the child, it is that simple.  You do not owe them a reason for whatever you are doing.   I tell my children, the only thing God expects of you as a child is to obey your parents.  Pay attention!!  Parents, set good examples!  

God expects parents to rear their children according to His word.  No laziness allowed.  Buck up, be a parent.  Allow your child to grow up and lead a productive life.  Telling them, "If you do that one more time," isn't going to get the job done!

My girls love to go to the library.  So, yesterday I brought Emily and while she browsed the books, I grabbed a couple magazines to look at .  I noticed a very easy recipe for Chicken Marsala.  I remembered a little Italian restaurant down in Georgia that served the best Chicken Marsala.  My mouth watered.  I grabbed a little square piece of paper and quickly jotted down the recipe. 

Well, if Ryan is reading this, I'm sure he will gasp in horror of what happened to this dish!  First of all, I am not a wine drinker.  I do not get excited about the year 1986 and dry versus very dry.  Anyway, I digress.  I wandered in the liquor store and asked her where the bottles of Merlot were.  She asked me what year.  I replied, "Well, whatever is the cheapest."  I think that was my first mistake. 

Once I got home, I browned the chicken breasts, thickened the beef broth and struggled to open the bottle of "cheap" Merlot wine.  Once everything was in there simmering I realized something............I had indeed made Kool-Aid chicken.  There sat the chicken pieces simmering lightly and turning purple.  Those ladies who belong to the Red Hatters club would love this stuff.  Grape colored purple! It didn't smell very good either.  I had to make the best of it.  Okay, Ryan, you better stop reading here...........I grabbed my baster and sucked up most of the wine sauce, I then sprinkled some onion soup mix in it.  I also added more water, turned up the heat.  It was like I was performing a Code Blue on the chicken dinner. 

At the end, my husband said, "This is really good, Kendra."
I replied, "Well, it started out as purple chicken."

My sinuses!  I have not been feeling well for the past few months, so I decided to buy a kit to irrigate my sinuses.  Apparently Dr. Oz on the Oprah show talked about doing this and how it is wonderful for those who suffer with allergies.  Even though I didn't see the show, I knew I was a great candidate after my friend told me all about the show. 
"It's a Netipot," she said.
Hmmm I thought about that for a minute.  A netipot sounds like something an old Englishwoman would use to serve tea and crumpets.  I have yet to try a crumpet.
"Have you tried it yet?" I asked.
"No, but I need to," she replied.

A few weeks went by until one evening, I decided this was it.  My nose was driving me crazy!  I drove to the local drug store.  They didn't have a Netipot.  Apparently, Oprah's show caused an increased demand for the things.  I wondered if some were using them with crumpets. I bought the next best thing. 

When I got home, I looked at it like one would probably look at an enema.  I needed to do it, but I didn't want to.  I read the instructions carefully and then I stood there with it loaded and ready to go.  I thought back to my days as a nursing student.  Staring at the syringe, knowing that sucker was going into someone.  Me in fact.  I got over it.  I could get over this. 

As soon as the first burst of fluid went into my nose, I know my brain was telling my body, "She has dove into the deep end of a pool.  She has sucked in a ton of water.  We are downing, going down!" After that initial shock, I could feel the water seeping into every little cavity in my face.  I instantly knew why my eyes hurt, why my head hurt only on the right side.  Water was coming out of my mouth, my nose.  I had successfully transformed my face into a water fall.  How lovely!

Then, it was time to do the blow.  I grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen.  I was ready.  I knew a lot of stuff was going to come out of my nose.  A few months worth of disgusting gunk!   Well, to my surprise, nothing came out!! Absolutely nothing!  A lot of water from the irrigation, but that's all.  I was expecting something- rocks, flowers, maybe even a tree as bad as I felt.  But, no, nothing.

I posted my little escapade on a christian message board I belong to.  A lady soon posted a video from youtube on using the netipot.  I watched it.  That woman- whoever she was, bent over the sink so easily and as she used that netipot thing, nothing came out of her mouth!  Her eyes didn't water either.  I was expecting some snurggles, drooling and at least a few snorts.  But, nothing!

I am very happy to report I woke up for the first time in two months without a stuffy nose.  So, I will continue to use my own netipot thing.  Will I ever say to myself, "Oh, goody, it's netipot time?" I doubt it!



 

Nail Polish!  I love the stuff- when it is on without any nicks, fuzzies or little cat hairs attached.  For many girls- I guess guys too if they like that sort of thing , there is a process to applying nail polish.  First, you remove the old- in my case, most of the time I've left it on for so long the only thing left is bits of nail color- a few swipes of the acetone and it's off.   They also have the convenient little  jars of acetone you soak your nails in.  They usually don't work for me though- I pull my finger out and my nail is still the same color it was when I put it in the jar. 

Next, you lightly file the nasty ridges away so they are left smooth and ready to apply color.  The nail techs will tell you, "File in one direction, you don't want to 'saw' your nails- it makes them brittle.  Me?  I saw away! Gets the job done faster!

This process usually takes a few minutes from start to finish, unless the polish and or your nails are having issues  Several factors can complicate the process such as:

A stray piece of cat hair or fuzzy gets tangled up in the base coat.  Of course, you don't notice this until you are applying the next coat of polish.  Delicately you try to pull it off.  However, it doesn't just come off alone.  It drags a big chunk of color along with it.   A few times I have decided to leave it in there- I've tried to ignore it  But sooner or later, I find myself picking at it- trying to get the rough area off my nail!  Of course, the color comes off along with that ever so tiny piece of fuzz!

Then, there is the polish that decides it prefers to stay damp forever and ever.  You assume it's had plenty of time to dry until you lightly nick it on something and the stuff creates a huge indentation as if it is announcing, "I was still wet, look, look, I'm all messed up now!"  So, you quickly grab the acetone to do a quick touch up, however, while fixing that nail, you get acetone on the one beside it as well.  At this point, a four letter word may come out- especially if you are in a hurry.

I remember when I was in college, my roomate always had beautiful nails.  She had it down to a science- get all ready for bed and then gently apply the color when you are almost completely under the covers.  Then, after the color is applied, you gracefully pull the covers up with the palms of your hands and then go to sleep.  I decided to try this one night.  I did exactly like she did.  However, when I woke up a few hours later to turn around, I discovered my nails were stuck to my bedspread.  It was a mess, I never tried that again!

For my wedding, everyone told me to get, "Those cool artificial nails."  So, I did.  As soon as the nail girls started to clip away my own nails, I knew I was in trouble.  Those nails drove me crazy!  My nails felt as if they had gained weight.  To make matters worse, one of the nails just fell off while I was sitting in a hotel lobby.  I flicked it into a bowl of portpourri- for all I know, it's still in there. 

As I sign off on this blog, my nails are plain and simple- no polish, no fuzzies, no ridges and no hassle........until I decide to paint them again!

The other night I took my daughters to Walmart.  We must go to that place at least five times a week, but that's for another post.  As we were leaving, a man walked past us carrying a 24 roll pack of toilet paper.  Both of my girls looked at him in horror
My 15 year old commented, "Oh, my gosh, Mom, he's carrying all that toilet paper and it's not even in a bag!"
"Honey, guys are like that," I told her.
"But,  people can see it?"
"He doesn't care, he's a guy, Hannah.  In fact, if guys also needed tampons or pads, they would probably carry those out of the store without a bag as well."
I thought she was going to faint in horror at that comment. but, it's true!  Guys have such a different attitude when it comes to those sort of things in life girls would much rather pretend didn't happen.

David remembers overhearing a conversation between his nephews when they were ages four and six.  The younger one asked the older one, "Jason, do girls fart?"
He replied, "Of course not, stupid, only guys fart."
He is now married with two kids, I wonder how long it took him to find out, yea, girls do fart!

Let's compare a few things:
Public bathrooms:
  Most girls will wait hours if they have to before they will do the duty in a public bathroom.  Worst case scenerio, they will wait until nobody is in there- even if it means sitting on the pot for awhile, before they do the duty.  This is followed by an immediate flushing- referred to as the courtesy flush.
  Guys, heck, they go in there, do the duty- regardless of who is in there and then they flush.  No problem.  Job done, on with the day. 
To Spray or not to spray:
   Women will search a bathroom for spray.  Once they find it, the bathroom is quickly transformed into a meadow of blossoming flowers.  If it's Christmas time, the room is transformed into a huge Christmas tree that now smells like a dog just took a crap under the tree.
   Guys, well, they prefer to do the Jim Carrey thing, walk out, let out a "whoop" or a "Whew" while making the declaration, "Nobody better go in there.  A bomb just went off."
The "F" word:
   If a girl farts within earshot, it was an accident.  That sucker sneaked out.  She had absolutely no control over it.   There are a few of those girls who don't care, but they are of another breed. 
   Guys...........well, most like to compare their farts.  "Whew, that one was rotten! Hey, can you do it again?  Frank, go get a match."  I never figured out what, "Get a match" meant until my brothers educated me on this practice when I was in high school.  Of course, I thought they were gross beyond words.  Who would want to risk lighting their butt on fire?  Well, a guy!
Lastly, purchasing TP:
   Girls will plop the package of paper in the cart.  Some will try to stash it under the cart.  That's the best place for it- not a lot of people can see it down there.  If that is not possible, they will plop it in the cart, but surround it with other stuff like kleenex, Cascade and boxes of cereal.  Don't put the Bran cereal too close to it though, people may come to conclusions. Upon exiting the store, that paper better be in a bag or else!
   Guys- they will plop that package smack dab in the front of the cart - in fact, if there is not a kid occupying the seat compartment, that is where it goes- they like people to know, "I am a guy, I poop and I need more paper, man!"

Don't you hate it when you go out to a restaurant and spill something on your shirt or pants?  I always do this when I am wearing white.  It is as if that white shirt is made out of some sort of material that sucks the food to it.  Never under the arms or other inconspicuous places, it is always right smack dab in the front!

Yesterday while we were out of town, I wore a red shirt with a snowman on it.  It was NOT white, therefore I had no reason to worry about a spill. Well, so much for that!  I dropped three onions down the front of it.  If that wasn't enough, my husband gave me a bite of one of his onion rings and the onion slipped right out onto my shirt.  I dabbed the spot wishing at that very moment I had one of those Tide stick thingies, but I didn't. 

From there, we went to a shoe store.  I wandered around and started to notice little whiffs of onions when I would turn suddenly.  My daughter came up to me and said, "Mom, that lady over there smells like BO really bad."
Whew, at least I wasn't the only one who smelled, I thought to myself.

A few minutes later, she turned around and said, "Mom, it's you.  You smell like B.O."

B.O.? Me? Now I know I put on deodorant.  I wondered if she was smelling the onion smell.
I called her over to my shirt and said, "Does it smell like this?"
She leaned down to smell and then darted up quickly, "Eww, mom it's you?  That smells like B.O."
"How about onions?"
"Yea, it sort of does smell like onions too."
Onions too? B.O. and onions? I had to get that stinky thing off of my sorry self soon.  From there we walked over to Target and I purchased another shirt.
I then changed in the bathroom and proceeded to tuck the stinky one in the back of the car.
Later that night as I was getting things out of the car, I could still smell those onions. They were mutant by now.
I quickly stashed the stinky thing in the wash and added some other clothes for company and then sprinkled a generous amount of baking soda in there as well to thoroughly deodorize the whole load.
My husband, being the sweet man he is, decided to put the load once it was finished, into the dryer.  I did not know he was doing this until he came into our room and said, "You know that load of darks you put into the washer? Well, somebody left a pack of gum in their pocket and it is all over everything."
I wanted to scream!!!  Yes, it no longer smells like onions but it is covered in gum and it smells like spearmint now.

The Man and The Birds

The man to whom I’m going to introduce to you was not a scrooge, he was a kind decent, mostly good man. Generous to his family, upright in his dealings with other men. But he just didn’t believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas Time. It just didn’t make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn’t swallow the Jesus Story, about God coming to Earth as a man.

“I’m truly sorry to distress you,” he told his wife, “but I’m not going with you to church this Christmas Eve.” He said he’d feel like a hypocrite. That he’d much rather just stay at home, but that he would wait up for them. And so he stayed and they went to the midnight service.

Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound…Then another, and then another. Sort of a thump or a thud…At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They’d been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large landscape window.

Well, he couldn’t let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the birds to it. Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on a light, but the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in. So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable. But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them…He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms…Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn.

And then, he realized that they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me…That I am not trying to hurt them, but to help them. But how? Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him.

“If only I could be a bird,” he thought to himself, “and mingle with them and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to safe, warm…to the safe warm barn. But I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and understand.” At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind. And he stood there listening to the bells listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. And he sank to his knees in the snow.  - Paul Harvey

Toad! 

At first I thought it was a leaf until it moved.  There he was, just sitting there on the walkway.  I picked him up and he sort of nestled down into the palm of my hand as if to say, "Ah, a warm spot."

I'm wondering what the heck he's doing out and about in the middle of December.  We have already experienced ice and snow storms.  Any toad experts out there?

I moved him over to an area where there was some dirt and loosened up the ground around him. 

I love surprises like this in life.  On December 18th in the mid west, you'd never expect to find a toad in your front yard. 

I love to bake.  I would not consider myself a good cook, just a good baker.  Over the years, when people are gathered around planning a pot luck, I always volunteer to bring the dessert.  There was only one time I got stuck bringing the salad.  Not a good day for me.  I didn't know what to fix.

I love to have people over for dinner.  Of course, I plan the main course around the dessert.  This is how it has always been for me.  Dessert, then the meat and whatever else goes along with the meat. 

I hear the words, "Um, I have to bring something tomorrow," many times.  Especially now that the kids are back in school.  I laughed at my daughter the other day.  She has to bring a particular food that is common in Europe.  As soon as my face lit up at the thought of making a dessert common in another country, she said, "Mom, but I have bad news, you can't bring a sweet thing, it has to be a dinner sort of dish."

"DANG!" was my first thought.  I still don't know what she is going to bring this Friday. 

My family could be at opposite ends of the house, but as soon as I drag out my electric mixer, they all navigate to the kitchen.  It is sort of like a dog hearing the electric can opener.  "Something good has to come out of that thing."
Especially mixers- think about it, rarely do mixers mix anything that is not good- doughs, mixes, puddings, etc.  I hate brussel sprouts- you'd never put those things in a mixer either. 

I'm signing off now, gotta troll the web for European dishes! 

I remember my mom making the comment, "It's colder than a witches tit in a brass bra."  I looked at her and then she laughed, "You weren't supposed to hear that."
I thought about her comment, well, brass can be very cold when it freezes, and a bra made out of brass... yea that would be very cold.

Today, I am proud to announce it IS colder than a witches tit in a brass bra!!!  Last year we were blasted with a horrible ice storm- no power for seven days.  We were able to get out of the house around day three to just drive around.  It was so eerie.  The down town had no lights.  None!  All you could see were head lights and the enormous power and light trucks parked in various places.  When you stood outside, all you could hear was the constant cracking of tree limbs.

Yesterday, we woke up to ice, but thankfully, by evening the temp had climbed enough to allow some melting.  Today, the ice is just about gone, but we are expecting more sleet tomorrow.  Sunday night I looked outside and noticed the coolest thing.  I spider web with ice on it.  Now, that is one powerful web!!!  The ice dangled from it back and forth.  My first thought wasn't, "Go get the camera."  It was, "Now where is Ryan Schierling when I need him?"  His photos are the coolest!!!  You could drop this guy in the middle of a field and he would come out with an artistic photo within seconds.  Since he lives far far way, I opted to take a try at it myself.  We'll see how it turns out.  Right now, we can't find the UPC cord for the camera.  This is a typical thing for us.  Tape, scissors, bandaids, UPC cords.  Where are they when you need them!

To all of those sharing our weather.  Stay warm, drag out the monopoly game!

Kendra