The Blessed Weekend

And it’s Monday.

I can’t believe how quickly the weekend goes. I remember backwhen I was a working girl (not THAT kind of working girl…gaw…although I totally would have been a Julia Roberts-typeand not her annoying co-prostitute/roommate, Kit). It seemed the week would creep along at a punishingly slow pace. I would gaze at the calendar whiledreaming of Friday and all the freedom it would bring.

I no longer work outside the home, but do plenty of friggin’ work inside the home, and still look forward to that weekend. Let me lay out for you why a weekend is still just as important to us what I like to call, employment-challenged,folks:

1) Naps – Weekday naps tend to be a little encumbered. When I settle in for a snooze on, say, a Tuesday afternoon I am really quick to justify that little gem if I’m caught. “Oh, geez…did I fall asleep? Wow. I must be really exhausted from waking up so early to start that closet cleanout project.” Naptime on a weekend usually goes a little something more like, “EVERYBODY SHUT UP! I’m taking a nap!”

2) Breakfast Prep – Breakfast time withmy elementary school aged kids tends to be a little hectic. I’m trying to provide some brain food, make sure various school notes are signed, give the ol’ ix-nay to two out of three of my daughter’s outfit suggestions and remind my six year-old that he is actually still enrolled in Kindergarten and will need to be attending again that day. And, yes, I understand he just went last week but the State actually requires that he continue to go every week. Breakfast time on a weekend usually goes a little something more like, “We’re out of milk? Uh, no worries. Lucky Charms tastes just as good with water, trust me.”

3) Bedtime – Ah, bedtime. Parents have been battling kids to get to bed since the beginning of time. I can just imagine Mrs. Caveman yelling at Mr. Caveman, “Ugh. Kids need go bed. You. Help.” And then Mr. Caveman’s all, “Kids! Go Bed!” And then Mrs. Caveman’s all, “Ugh. You no help. Why I evenask?”Bedtime on a weekend is more like, “Man, it’s getting late. Um, have you seen the kids?” Or in Caveman, “Ugh. Dark. Kids?”

There is just something so liberating about the weekend and that remains to be the same with or without a paying job. I no longer spend my day in a cubicle answering phones and praying for my lunch hour but I still gaze longingly at my calendar excited for Friday (okay, fine. Istill look forward to lunch).

Happy Monday folks! It’s only Four days to Friday! :-P



Hey Lady! Where’d you go?

You know, when I started this blog forty-hundred years ago I recognized immediately how much I love writing. The subsequent pouring out of blog posts was definitely proof of that. You couldn’t stop me. I was a writing machine. Ideas poured from my soul like lemonade from a pitcher on a sultry summer day. (See? Even with the poetic similes I can’t help myself!) My point here is, I loved it. Couldn’t get enough.

And then, I burned out. I suddenly began to dread what had become such an important part of my day. My creative-thinking hat was off. The ideas weren’t even trickling out. My pitcher was bone-dry. The very minute that writing became a job, so-to-speak, I somewhat quit. Apparently I’m anti-employment, much to dear hub’s chagrin.

No longer feeling the desire to write daily, I started just blogging when I darn well felt like it. Like a rogue. A renegade. A saloon girl. No? Anyway, I’m discovering that I actually miss the commitment of consisitent blogging a bit. Considering that my status as Chief Operating Officer of my house dictates that the majority of my deadlines revolve around soccer practices and double coupon day at Safeway I kind of valued the blog as my escape from the occasionally mundane flow of daily life.

So here I am.

Quick Update:

1) Hubby still works from home.

2) Hubby still occasionally wears pajamas all day.

3) Hubby still pisses me off when he wears pajamas all day.

4) Dear daughter, Avery, is in 4th grade.

5) Dear son, Jack, is in Kindergarten (and they are apparently going to let him stay, yay!)

6) I still stay home and coordinate all the chaos.

7) I still love CheezIts. And Vodka.

I thank you in advance for the warm welcome back, friends. I am excited to get back to writing, reading other blogs, sharing some product reviews with you folks, potentially introducing some vlogs into the mix and most importantly, reconnecting with all of you.


Let the Soccer Begin!

Picture it:

Numerous sets of banged up knees running chaotically through a field of grass, the object of their one-track minded goal bouncing back and forth from ankle to ankle. The buzz of excitement over any potential contact with said object is palpable to those watching this familiar dance.

And then picture this:

On the edge of the field one set of banged up knees perches lazily atop his barely used object which, frankly, saw more action sliding across the cash register scanner than in all 60 minutes or so of practice.

It’s soccer, baby. Done OUR way.

We should have known what we were signing up for after experiencing our oldest in all her soccer glory. My hubby and I spent many a game mulling over several potential bribery tactics to employ in an attempt to convince Avery to run from one end of the soccer field to the other, repeatedly.

Fast forward a few years and substitute a slightly more willful, pigheaded, stubborn version and we’re dealing with more of the same.


When we first broached the subject of soccer to our youngest his response went as follows:

J: “I don’t know how to play.”

Me: “Um, that’s the whole purpose of soccer practice. They teach you.”

J: “O-o-okay. But do I have to run and stuff?”

Me: “Well…if you want to get the soccer ball into the goal then, yes. You will have to run.”

J: “Do I get a prize?”

Me: “Don’t you think having fun is a prize?”

J: “No.”

M’kay. Here we go again.


Costco (Where the Strong buy Batteries and the Weak buy…Everything?)

We’re all on a budget, right? These economic times have been rough on the lot of us and I’ve joined the ranks of the many trying to spend smarter/save wiser. Then why, oh why, would I continue to send my husband into that financial sinkhole more commonly known as Costco?

Let me set the scene for you:

Him: Hey, honey. I need some rechargeable batteries. I’m going to head to Costco. Need anything?

Me: (Looking at him speculatively) Are you sure that’s ALL you need? Batteries?

Him: Yeah. That’s all I’m getting. Do you need anything?

Me: So let me get this right. You are going to Costco and all you’re going to buy are batteries and the things I ask you to pick up?

Him: (Looking at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind) Yeeesss.

Me: (Looking at him with worry given his sudden memory loss) So, if I say I need spinach, bananas and bread you’re only going to buy batteries, spinach, bananas and bread?

Him: (Quickly losing his patience with this conversation) Um, yeah. Batteries, spinach, bananas and bread. I’m going now.

Me: Alrighty. See you back here with batteries, spinach, bananas and bread?

Him: Ya.

End scene.

Have you ever seen the movie “The Jerk”? Do you remember a certain scene where Navin (played by comedic genius Steve Martin) after a heated moment with his lady love is telling her he’s leaving and he needs absolutely nothing.

“I don’t need this stuff and I don’t need you. I don’t need anything — except this, this ash tray, and that’s the only thing I need is this! I don’t need nothin’ but this – just this ash tray, and this paddle game. The ash tray and the paddle game – and that’s all I need, and this – the remote control. The ash tray, the paddle game and the remote control, that’s all I need. And these matches. The ash tray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball. And this lamp. That’s right. This paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp and that’s all I need. And that’s all I need too! I don’t need one other thing. Not one – I need this – the paddle game and the chair and the remote control and the matches, for sure.”

Argumentatively one of the funniest scenes (and movies) of all time, and strangely, an almost perfect parallel to Jer and his shopping trips to Costco.

I have this vision of him walking the aisles of that addictive warehouse pulling random things off the shelves.

“I don’t need this stuff..I don’t need anything — except these Red Baron pizzas, and that’s the only thing I need are these! I don’t need nothin’ but this — just these pizzas, and this Swiffer. The pizzas and the Swiffer – and that’s all I need, and this — a car waxing kit. The pizzas, the Swiffer and the car waxing kit, that’s all I need. And these lighters. The pizzas, the Swiffer, the car waxing kit and these lighters. And this Armor-All gift set. That’s right. The pizzas, the Swiffer, the car waxing kit, the lighters and this Armor-All gift set. That’s all I need!

He can’t help himself, you guys. I send him for four things and he brings home 2 packing boxes full. And yet I still send him. Why? Because I’m lazy and don’t have the patience to stand in those Godforsaken lines waiting to checkout and then attempt to navigate my way past the hordes of lunchgoers trying to decide between a chicken bake or polish sausage. And Jer? He loves it.

So I guess I will continue to find space for all of his finds and the money to pay for it and he will continue to preserve my sanity. What a lovely duo we make, eh?


Hanging my head in shame…

Hello friends. Am I still allowed to call you that? Do we need to go through that awkward ‘get to know each other’ phase again?

I have been absent for a very long time. In fact, in blogger’s terms, you could say a lifetime has passed since my last post. Even truer, in Mindy’s terms (that’s me in case you have forgotten), I have grown approximately 7 gray hairs since I have last written and I’m pretty sure there may be a new crow’s foot peeking out the side of my eye. Not lovely.

You may ask where I have been that has caused my hair follicles to deviate from my natural blonde (ahem, okay, blonde with some assistance) and my skin elasticity to turn against me?

Living life, yo. Just living life. And it’s been a bit of a bitch.

Winter wreaked havoc on me and my family. We all succumbed to one illness or another and at one time 3 out of 4 of us were on antibiotics for pneumonia. Most of us got well right away but one of us had a little bit of trouble getting out of the exceedingly uncomfortable sick bed.

I was sick, folks. From the beginning of February through the end of March I battled coughing, snotting, hives, overgrowth of certain healthy fungii, decimation of any beneficial bacteria in my stomach and a one-way ticket into any bathroom within running distance. It was ugly.

For those who like to know the details: I had pneumonia/sinus infection which led to complications from my antibiotic and an apparent penicillin allergy, which led to thrush and an uber-sensitive stomach, which led to C-Diff, a nasty bacteria which took up residence in my body with the intention of slowly killing me. I’m sure of it. But, with the help of some fabulous drugs, an amazing probiotic and some very soft toilet paper I prevailed and at this point in time I can say with certainty that I am almost all better!

Which is good because toilet paper is getting expensive!

Now, enough with all that negative mumbo-jumbo. Life is fabulous again and I’m hoping I can get back to doing some more regular blogging. I’m also running around with the idea of doing some “vlogging”. What do you think? Could you handle a little virtual chit-chat?

I bid adieu for now, friends. Chat with you soon!