I Think This Is My Fault

My last words on my last post were.......
I would love some snow right now.

Then while I slept under my new, lovely shade of cream colored comforter with two muddy paw-prints on it, it snowed. An arctic blast blew through Northeast Ohio, leaving a hell of a commute to work for those of us that had to go to work and not have the day off. Huh....
Should I blame it on that old tired saying, 'Be careful what you wish for.' I just wanted the mud covered up for a couple months so I could train the dog to wipe her paws. She could totally do it too. She's smart.
Maybe I have a blogging genie that's granting me wishes, I've made a few new blogging buddies over at Humor-Blogs.com. Maybe I've rub someone the right way. Ha! Thank you all by the way for the Smiley Votes and yes, I vote for myself, but it's just to see if the vote smiley thingamajig is working right.
Now don't forget my Financial Advice for tonight, given a couple days ago. I'm going to have to start a Financial Blog now, especially if this works.......
I would love a million dollars right now.

Save The Comforter, Save My World

With a fist full of gift cards and cash, I made my way back to the shopping arena. Shopping as God intended, getting stuff for myself that I actually like.
Before I continue, is it wrong of me to be happy to not hear that bell ringing?
Anyway, one of the items on my list was a new comforter for our bed. You can read about what happened to the old comforter here. I found one. Comfortably fluffy and matched the curtains that the old comforter matched. The problem I planned to work around was the fact that it was a lovely cream color. One simple request I asked my house full of testosterone, "Please close the bedroom door when you let the dog into the house so I can clean her paws before she jumps on the bed." Not 24 hours after the comforter was place on that bed two muddy paw prints showed up. Clearly I asked to much of "them". I would love some snow right now.

Financial Advice for a Prosperous 2009

There have to be some poor people in the world, so I only give out this advice knowing that half of you will not even read this post as you are feverishly dropping EntreCards. Half of you will not take it seriously and think of me as a part-time receptionist giving out halfwit advice and the other half will forget all together. I don't want to start an economic boom, this isn't about me.
On New Year's Eve the very last thing you should do before you go to bed is take all the change/coins out of your pockets or wallets, place this change on your front doorstep and go to bed. Now you can see why I know some of you will forget, the whole New Year's Eve cocktail thing may cloud your memory. Then when you wake up on New Year's Day the very first thing you do, before the bathroom or coffee, is bring that money in. That is the start of you bringing in money the whole year.
Think of this as my way of a small economic boost for our failing economy. Hey I do what I can. The husband and I brought in more money this year than last year, so this is a proven money maker. It also helped that I had a job this year.

Kill The Spider

"There is a tarantula in the laundry room, there will be no clean socks until it's dead."
In my world there are clearly defined jobs in our household. Spider killin' is for the men folk. Most spiders hang out in laundry rooms, so it's inevitable to run into a few now and then. But this one, this huge, hairy, eight legged monster made me jump.
"Boy #3! It's spider killin' time!"
After his first look at Shelob, I could tell he was bummed to be the only guy in the house. "Don't let it smell your fear."
He had come down to the laundry room with a wad of paper towels in his hand, but was re-thinking that option. His eyes wandered to the husbands work boot, then the spider, then the boot again. "It's the way to go." I said. "The boot."
"Yeah."
"You can't let it get away, you have to kill it first try. It's the kind of spider that will come back and kill us in our sleep if it gets away."
"Yeah."
The spider never moved during this whole conversation. Thank God. I was hoping it wasn't making it's own plan of attack. "I'm going to stand over there."
"Yeah."
I'm going to have to buy Boy #3 some gum or something after rescuing me from that tarantula.

Gunga Galunga...... Gunga, Gunga-Galunga

Since watching Caddyshack for the eighty-seventh time last weekend Boy #2 has been talking to me in a Bill Murray accent and uttering the phrase Gunga Galunga...... Gunga, Gunga-Galunga to me whenever I ask him to take out the garbage. Back in the day, around this time of year, things got done. One sentence would stop them in their tracks, "I'm calling Santa." I would then proceed to the phone and actually start to dial the weather, sometimes I got an updated forecast, other times I didn't have to go that far, but things got done.
While wandering around the husbands place of employment Friday night, I ran into the Jolly Ole' Elf himself. I grabbed both Boy #2 and Boy #3 by the ear, dragged them over to the Big Guy and said, "Santa these boys are no good, don't bring them anything Christmas Eve. This one won't do his homework and this one owes me money."
"Consider it done ma'am."
At that time Boy #2 took his index finger, pointed it at Santa's chest and said, "Gunga Galunga...... Gunga, Gunga-Galunga."
"Ho, Ho, Ho.....Caddyshack! I love that movie. See you Christmas Eve boys."
I don't care who you are, that's funny. Our children have inherited mine and the husbands incredible sense of humor, chips off the old block.
"Come on boys, mommy's going to grant you a total state consciousness before I knock your heads together."

Matching Socks, The Dog Will Lead You to Them

The dog must have hid one of the husbands smelly socks in my office. And I fear if I don't find it soon I may die. The dog likes to hide socks or use them as a pillow, you know snuggle up to them with our scent on them while we are at work or school. Just the other day we found several of Boy #3's socks in her little house, the house she seeks comfort in when I vacuum. This sock discovery left Boy #3 slightly confused, a little befuddled. Being last in the line of three boys doesn't leave him many options when it come to clean socks, it's a seniority thing. I tried to comfort him in his confusion, "Honey, you will have socks that match now."
"Matching socks......" he repeated in disbelief.
"Yes, see you remember matching socks, your socks matched at your brothers wedding."
"Matching socks." It was all coming back to him now.
"Of course," I said, "people will think we have money now. They'll expect better presents than I was planning on buying. I'll have to start doing lunch, getting my nails done and drinking non-fat mocha lattes."
"Can I wear my matching socks now mom?"
"I should wash them."
His face fell, he's not stupid, he knows what happens to socks once they go into the laundry.
"I'd take the risk if I were you." I told him. "You don't want them to smell like dad's socks do you?"
The fumes usually lead me to the hiding places before I suffocate, but my sinus's get clear out while on the hunt.

It's A Major Award

Knowing that post number 500 was drawing near, I wanted to make a big deal out of it, like everyone else does. I've never celebrated a post number before, wasn't sure where I would go with it. So I decided to give myself an award.

Let's face it, I deserve it and no one else is going to give me one. I took matters into my own hands and awarded myself a Major Award. One might say a most prestigious award. Wow I spelled prestigious right on the first try. I can't stop thanking myself, this is awesome, really thank you.

I reminisced a little, looking through my old posts. Mis-spelled reminisced on the first try, damn it. Here is my very first post on this blog, which kind of explains the weird name Farvel Cargo. This blog started out as an advertising venue for our home business that never went anywhere, now it's just an addiction, an out of control addiction that consumes my life. You see I've barely started my Christmas shopping, the tree is only half decorated, no clean socks and I can't remember where Boy # 3 is. I don't know who I think is going to do all this stuff for me, but someone should. My blog has just been awarded a Major Award, I don't have time for trivial matters.

Wrath of God Zit

On the left side of my nose is a bright, shiny, un-pop-able, red zit. I wore my glasses this weekend and they were lopsided on my face, that's how huge this thing is. Being 4o somethingish, I kind of thought this sort of thing was behind me.
I managed to cover it well for work or at least I think I did. No one looked at me funny. You know standing and talking to me and then seeing their eyes zero in on my nose and stay there for the remainder of the conversation. That didn't happen. Table's turned, I would have stared at some one's big zit. Kind of like Austin Powers, "Moley, moley, moley."
I went over to mothers last night to see if she might have some words of wisdom on my horrendous nose. She's the one that told me that the zits would go away with age and that the cramps would go away after having children. Three children later I still go into pre-labor every month. The words of wisdom I received were, "Don't touch it!"
Dad, being a pro-active kind of guy said, "Pop it with a needle."
"Don't tell her that, she'll do it."
Maybe I'll just put some Windex on it.

I'm Thinking Chinese

A shower, chicken soup and a mocha at hand have my strep throat at bay perhaps long enough to write a post and do some online shopping. No amount of winter wear will have me out in the twenty degree weather with falling snow to attempt Christmas shopping this weekend. Some year in the near future I might learn from my mistakes and start my shopping early but this year I'll be scrambling again. And if it didn't hurt to talk a string of obscenities would be spewing from my mouth all weekend long. But instead, I plan to curl up on the couch watching the game show channel and nodding off in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace. I just have to get the husband to go along with this plan and keep a fire going all evening to appease me, he's the key to this whole master plan. He's going to have to feed me too. I'm thinking Chinese.

The Illusive Pin Number

I know the first and last numbers and the two middle numbers. I just can't seem to string them along in the proper sequence. Not without the little piece of paper at the bottom of my purse that has my dad's Subway order on it and a phone number of whom, I know not. It's not like I can't memorize things, it's just that I haven't taken the time to commit those four little numbers to memory. I've been busy and it's always been at the bottom of my purse that today I decided needs cleaned out. There are 67 grocery lists in there, 38 coupons and 23 receipts, give or take. Usually when the purse gets this unorganized, I get a new one. Same with the checking account, hence the new pin number.
Every year a new purse and every 3 to 5 years I have to tell the husband the checkbook is beyond hope and we must start again. The poor guy looks over his newspaper and says, "How much is it costing us this time?"
"The purse or the checking account?" Ha!

All I Want for Christmas is a Brake Job

Two years ago I received a diamond tennis bracelet from the husband for Christmas. You can read the tear-jerking post on it here. That was probably one of the best presents ever, maybe number 2, right after the Barbie Country Camper, the Swingingest Camper on wheels. Barbie would always swing by my brother's room to pick up GI Joe and they would drive cross county or to my backyard, for a picnic or to get married.
This year all thoughts of jewelry or vintage Barbie Campers has been put on hold, taken off the table, scratched off the list, because I'm getting a brake job and a thermostat. It's what every girl wants. Sure, I want to be able to stop my car at will and be relatively warm after scraping the ice off my windshield, but damn the timing. Brake jobs and thermostats don't go with my new boots.

But It Was Not This Year

I held my ground. I was prepared to hold out until the day before Thanksgiving for a dinner invitation. You could see the fear in my eyes at the thought of hosting a Thanksgiving dinner. The year may come that I will have to cook the feast but it was not this year. This year my dear sister-in-law came through again. I dined on turkey, mashed potato's and gravy, stuffing, sweet potato's, green jello, lima beans and pumpkin pie with cool whip. The year may come that all invitations come crashing down around me but it was not this year. This was the year all eight of us sat around card tables and ate like Kings. By all that I hold dear on this good earth, I thank you dear sister-in-law.

I should send her some flowers.

Oh and yes, I'm quite the geek. Lord of the Rings was on all weekend.