I am Humbled

Apparently I am an Awesome Blogger Friend. And I have an award to prove it. Ann over at A Nice Place In The Sun bestowed the award upon me. She has me lumped in with some pretty awesome bloggers, so I am humbled. Thank you Ann!

The award originated at Ettarose-Edge of Sanity.com who I have been dropping EntreCards on here and there and her blog is a hoot! Stop over there for a laugh.

This is way cool for me, it's my first award. You like me, you really like me!

This morning, after going through what seemed to be a bout of writer's block, I had a post idea explosion in my brain. I don't know what happened but I now have a list of posts to write. Every 5 minutes a new idea popped in my head. I always keep a list going by the computer. So I went rifling through the papers on my desk, nothing had been added to it in a while. In fact there was only one idea written down and I'll post about it as soon as I figure out what I meant when I wrote down - "Lady zipper" it has me quite puzzled.

Laundry Issues

I've been so busy at work this week, so tired. I had M & M's for dinner tonight. And chased them down with Pepsi. I plan on being witty and funny this weekend. Perhaps even profound but don't get your hopes up. I just found out that Boy #3 has been wearing dirty socks all week. I'll have to buy him some new ones, I don't want to over tax myself with too much laundry. I wonder if anyone else in the house has laundry issues?

Blame it on the Vodka

I crawled out from under my rock Saturday night and danced the night away at Boy #1's wedding reception. I've never bothered to learn any of those "line dances" except for the Chicken Dance and the Hokey Pokey. The steps to the Electric Slide have always eluded me. There's another one and I can't remember the name but the man singing the song tells you what to do. So after several vodka and orange juice's, I said, "Hell, I can do that." So, carefully, so's not to spill my drink, I stomped my right foot, jumped two times, did the Charlie Brown and said, "Hey I'm dancin."
Later in the evening while out on the dance floor the sister in law informs me that she requested "Da Butt". My blank stare and vodka soaked grinned surprised her and my cousin.

"You've never shook it to Da Butt?
"I hardly ever shake it."

Before I knew it, I was doin Da Butt. I was shakin it. Really, when you have Da Butt, you don't need The Chicken Dance or The Hokey Pokey.
I found a Da Butt video on YouTube just in case I'm not the only old fart in the room.

Thankfully when I searched Da Butt on YouTube, I didn't find a video of myself. If you see me on YouTube, please be kind.

The Goofier Side of Life

One of the goofiest memories of the husbands and my marriage was the day (way back in the day) we had our brother-in-laws over, they were helping us put up new kitchen cabinets. Star Trek was on, because we're Trekkie's. Not the new Star Trek, we are purest, the original Star Trek where most of the cast is dead, half dead or Price Line negotiators. The episode that was on that afternoon was the one where the aliens took Spock's brain. Having seen it before we went about our work glancing at the television occasionally. Never missing a beat or drawing attention to our nerdness.
My main job that day was to keep the kids out of the way, I was in the living room changing a diaper (I told you, way back in the day) and watching the TV. Before I knew what I was saying it came out, "Dear, they're putting Spock's brain back in."
"Oh." Before he knew what he was doing he put his tools down and joined me in the living room, leaving our brother-in-laws to stare after us. Their mouths hanging open in utter amazement. They then looked at each other as if to verify that they had just seen and heard the same thing. Both of them cocked their heads to the side, grinned and stored the information away for future use. Boy they use that information often, weddings, picnics, birthday parties, even at a funeral once.
We all just attended a wedding Saturday night so that goofy moment in history is fresh in my brain.

Get Off Your Butt

The company I work for is big on charitable functions. Once a month they pick a charity to focus on. Coming up very soon is Alzheimer's Memory Walk Funds need to be raised to help prevent, treat and cure this disease. And we can help!
Across the United States Teams are organizing. Friends, relatives and co-workers are uniting for the Memory Walk. Team Captains are needed. Can you step out of your protective cocoon for a walk? Can you organize a small group of people to do the same? Ask three friends to join you and in turn they can ask three friends. You have a team now!
The only way I’m going to get off my butt and participate is to have people motivate me. The people at work with their endless caring and giving is what I need to inspire some charitable acts on my part. Let’s get off our butts and take a walk.

Mrs. Kravitz Moment, Aug. 4, 2008

I'm so proud of the neighbor kid. He's finally shed the training wheel monkey off his back and is riding around the neighborhood on two wheels, mom and little sister running behind him.

I know my readers have been patiently waiting for my latest "Mrs. Kravitz moment," the last one was about turds. It started off with the kid and the training wheels but ended up with dog poop. You just never know what will unfold outside your office window.
Today I'm focusing on one of the first major steps towards independence. And I don't think she's going to let him do it just yet. She's keeping up with him pretty well. I don't know what it is with us moms and their children riding off and leaving you in the dust on that first solo bike ride, but it tugs hard at the heart. Perhaps we know right then, deep down that we're the next monkey on their backs they are going to try to shake.

I won't get sappy, I won't get sappy, I won't get sappy.

Maybe I'm a little sappy because I've spent the last 3 weeks signing Boy #2 up for college classes and when sitting in the councilors offices in college, all of a sudden I became a lump in the second chair with my purse on my lap. Straining to see over my baby's broad shoulder as he plans his future.
Is this the little boy I taught to ride a bike?
Shouldn't I have a little more say in what he does with his life so he can support me when I'm old?
I'm getting away from this window before I get all misty.

Further Instructions

One of the first little business ventures I tried online was T-Shirts sales, all the way back in 2003. I still have the shop, but haven't paid much attention to it.
The T-Shirts are plain on the front but on the back it looks like someone pinned a note on it. This one pictured says, "Under Surveillance (just act normal). The one I wear all the time says, "Would someone PLEASE stop this woman from spending anymore money? Thanks, her husband.
Under Surveillance is in a contest at www.t-shirtcountdown.com

If my Internet moves any slower while collecting the links for this post, I will break something.

Finally! Here is where you can vote, if you want to! Hey it's a break in the EntreCard dropping monotony. The link goes to the second page in the Funny Category section. Look for my t-shirt picture - vote for it! If you don't see it on the second page go to the first, because the barrage of voting from all of you will take it to the first page.

If further instructions are necessary leave me a comment.

Update: Karen voted for me and moved me to page 1, so I fixed the link!

I Can't Think of a Witty Title

The dog thinks she's a cat. She lounges on top of our couch, guarding the neighborhood. And for some reason she's oppose to any other dog walking down the sidewalk. Doesn't particularly like skateboarders either.

I used up my big word allotment over at the other blog, View of Sue today. I wasn't sure which blog to put the post on, since the post was entertainment related it ended up there, but could have been posted here also, so I linked it.

Also while dropping my EntreCards I ran into a post on No Crappy Crap that freaked me out and I thought I'd share. Follow it's instructions.

Stinkers the Siamese Cat - FOUND

Good news, they found Stinkers. I don't know who "they" are, I'm just going by the signs in the neighborhood. Apparently Stinkers went missing sometime in the middle of the week. White, 8-1/2 x 11 sheets of paper sprang up on all the telephone poles in the neighborhood.

Missing
Siamese Cat
Phone number
STINKERS

You really don't have time to be creative with a sign when your pet gets lost, so you keep it simple. Either the signs worked or Stinkers just got hungry. I have a telephone pole in my front yard and I never looked for the cat.
Pictured is the sign at the end of the development, I guess "they" are thanking all of us for looking.
"Hey, don't mention it, anything I can do to help, really."
I'll be spending the rest of my Sunday guilt ridden because I didn't join the Stinkers search. The weekend was going well too.

Car Misfortune

Weird things happen to me and my car. I’ve depended on car rental more than I care to say. I’ve had the door of a mini-van fall off the hinge, while driving over a traffic counting cable it came loose and wrapped around my tire wheel, my fuel pump died minutes after I passed my emissions test, a kid with a pellet gun shattered my drivers side window, an axle thingamajig broke, left me stranded in the middle of the road and a woman stopped and asked me for directions. These are each, all wonderful ideas for upcoming posts, my misfortunes on the road are bound to make someone laugh, except the husband, he’s the one that I call crying on my cell phone.

Elaborating posts to follow!

Humor on Hold

Sunday morning we woke to the news that a local Police Officer was shot and killed on a routine traffic stop. Josh Miktarian was keeping my community safe, he was keeping my family and me safe, for that I am grateful beyond belief. It takes a very special kind of person to put themselves in harms way.

I ask for prayers and some kind thoughts for this special man and for his wife and three month old daughter.
Our community is in shock. Flags fly at half mast and flowers are piling up where Josh was gunned down, I pass by it everyday. The gunman is claiming self defense, Josh's gun was never out of his holster. While our community mourns we also hope for justice.

Bad Karma Post

I fear I may have upset Marco Polo. Or the Lord above, can't be sure but I know someone ruined my day of leisure at the pool. I dragged my butt out of bed close to 10:00 am. Yes, I sleep until 10:00 am on the weekends.
The sky was bright and sunny and the pool was calling me. I grabbed my pool bag, contents mentioned in my previous post and strolled to the pool. Found a lounge chair with only one broken strap, pretty good for the crowd that had already assembled there that bright, sunny day, and arranged my belongings in their proper place. Can of Pepsi within reach and book in my hands, I settled in my chair for the tanning process to begin.
This is about the time that the spirit of Marco Polo ruined it all. Apparently he likes the silly assed game in his name. Dark clouds covered the sky and I had only read two pages of my book, didn't even get my can of Pepsi open. I felt sprinkles of rain and since I had walked to the pool I couldn't wait to see if this was going to blow over. I had to pack up before I even broke a sweat. Inside my head I was swearing like a drunken sailor.
On my way I home I came to the realization that for the first time in the history of my pool going days, I had not heard one child utter the words Marco Polo.

Marco Freakin Polo

I got nothing against explores/merchants sailing the high seas trading with the Far East back in the day, I just want to let that be known. My biggest problem is the stupid swimming pool game made out of the poor guys name.
Marco.............
Polo...............
Marco.............
Polo...............

And now it's in a car commercial.

My favorite form of relaxation in the summer is to grab a towel, a book, a can of Pepsi and a corner of the pool deck within the development where we reside. With a good Stephen King or Dean Koontz I can tune out the world, almost. The insentient Marco Polo-ing has poked a hole into my life of leisure, grating on my very last nerve. Who the hell thought up this stupid game?
Close your eyes and say Marco, chase down anyone that says Polo with your eyes remaining closed. Can't the children just chase each other with their eyes open and their mouths shut? For years I've worked on my even tan to the tune of Marco Polo, enough is enough already.
Would it be acceptable behavior on my part to approach little Johnny and Susie? You know say something like, "Cha, you know what? Your mindless blabbering is killing my brain cells. Play something else."

Turd Grabbers

During my recent Mrs. Kravitz moment as I watched my neighbors teaching their little boy how to ride a bike, I couldn't help but notice at least five people going by the house walking their dogs. I've been known to stare out my window for long periods of time. It's part of my fat ass problem.
The dog walkers all strolled past at various times and in various shapes and sizes, but all with one thing in common, a filled poop bag. The way they all confidently walked past my house you could tell they were skilled, seasoned dog walkers. They have a certain air about them as they saunter by with a leash in one hand and swinging a bag of poop in the other. For those of you that do not have a dog to walk, let me explain to you how the poop gets in the bag.
It's somewhat of an art form. Since a dog will crap just about anywhere, owners must always be on the ready for turd removal. They take their plastic bag and stick their hand in it. Grab the turds with just that thin layer of plastic between their hand and the doo doo. With a single motion they will swoop those turds into the bag, turning it inside out and tie a knot in the bag, securing the turds and smell neatly in the bag of their choice, continuing merrily on their way in less than a minute.
They are an elite group of turd grabbers, for this is not an easy task. Getting it all in one felt swoop requires skill. Not dropping a single turd requires concentration and patience. So when you see a turd grabber walking down the street, give them a nod of encouragement, they have skills beyond ours, they are good at what they do and they are keeping the community poop free.

Just Call Me Fat-Ass

Because it's only a matter of time before it's true. Half the summer is gone and I've done far less strenuous activities than previous summers. I've gone to the pool but I find myself napping instead of swimming and that might explain the uneven-ness of the tan this year. An even tan is a full-time job, it isn't easy.
I blame EntreCard and blogging.
I fear I may be setting a poor example for the dog. She likes to follow me around, she's found a comfortable spot near my computer. The both of us will have an ass the size of a bus if we continue down this lazy path of inactivity. We're going on a walk tonight, as soon as I finish these Reese's Cups.

The Carcass in the Driveway

You have to wonder what's got to happen to a chipmunk that it would just keel over dead in your driveway. The possibilities are endless but I've narrowed it down to two that are not necessarily correct but amusing.
Heart attack? Did it's heart finally give out after digging too many holes in my flower beds? Or with my active imagination and the fact that I watch way too much television, did someone put it there? You know with a Luca Brasi swims with the the fishes kind of warning. Does a dead chipmunk have some sort of meaning in the world of organized crime?
Now to the matter at hand, I never have and never will take an active part in dead animal disposal. With three boys and a husband I shouldn't have to. So when Boy #3 informed me of the chipmunk carcass in the driveway I said, "Ewwwwwwww."
Then, "How are you going to handle this honey?"
He settled on a triple WalMart bag, the dogs pooper scooper, duct tape and rubber bands. That dead chipmunk isn't going anywhere.

Double Secret Probation

I put the dog on double secret probation last night. If you look closely at the picture you can see what my comforter use to look like, before the dog ripped all the stuffing out of the hole she tore down the middle of my comforter that matches my curtains. The hole is completely through and there was a small garbage bag full of the cotton stuffing all over my side of the bed. My side of the bed, because amazingly enough the husband was asleep when the dog decided to kill my comforter. While I was at it, I put him on double secret probation too.
"I guess I have to buy you a new comforter, huh?"
"Oh yeah, this is going to cost you."
The dog is so lucky she's cute.

Careless Screw-Up

If I'm not careful, I'm going to be looked upon as a careless screw-up. My children will start nursing home shopping earlier than they should have to, my husband might take my checkbook away, work might put me in the basement office and mom and dad will change the will.
Last week I ate leftovers that were leftover too long, missed a day of work and that's about all I'm willing share about that horrific day. Sunday I stayed at the pool to long and now I'm beet-red, the peeling should start in a couple day. That's going to be attractive. I almost missed Father's Day. I thought it was 2:00 and it was 3:00, made the mistake of telling mom that. So I showed up at the door with a Father's Day present and a can of baked beans.
After I stop glowing, I'll have to redeem myself somehow.

Office Exterminator

I amused my co-workers today. Innocently, I brought in the mail as usual. Much to my surprise the object I saw out of the corner of my eye hanging from the catalogs and envelopes was not an object but a spider hanging from part of it's web I dislodge from the mailbox. Here's where the co-workers started to laugh, well after my yelp they did. The spider shimmied up it's web and rested on a catalog. This is when the discussion ensued. How does Sue get rid of her unwanted desk mate? Nothing like, "Here let me do it."
The best advice I received was, "Use these scissors and move the catalog, the spider will fall to the ground and then step on it."
So crazy it might work.
Only when it started to fall, it stopped in mid-air because of the whole web shooting thing that spiders are capable of. (you've seen Spiderman, you know what I'm talking about)
Being the quick thinker that I am and ready to kill anything that crawls near me, I cut the web with my scissors, the spider fell to the ground and I stepped on it. Then I waved my hands around like a moron. I'm quite certain that this scene will not be forgotten soon by my co-workers. The story got around the office and shop pretty quick. I can only hope that I'm not thought of as the office exterminator, I really don't want to do that again.

Excuse Me? Where's The Midol?

Is it just me? Can WalMart make it a little easier to find the Midol? I had a long list when I walked into WalMart yesterday, but the first thing on it was Midol. I couldn't find it. My aggravation level grew at an alarming rate. Chocolate was going to be piled high in that cart later. Frustrated and ready to ask just about anyone the where abouts of the Midol, I heard the pharmacy chain-link garage door going down. Dear God they're closing and the knowledge I sought, closing with them.
"Excuse me? Hello?" I waved my hand grasping for someone to notice me. I grabbed the attention of a woman and yelled, "Where's the Midol?" And didn't care who heard me. She actually came out of the chain-link pharmacy cage and took me to my relief. On the bottom shelf for goodness sakes!