Sunday, February 28, 2010

Ultimate Fighting

In a last minute event, two opponents come together for the ultimate smackdown.    The family of five will square off against a seasonal stomach bug in a "loser-leaves-town" contest. Given the scope and intensity of such an event, unexpected occurrences are likely to happen (think one punch knock outs and the loss of a lots of bodily fluids).

While the Steeler family has put up quite a fight, showing amazing strength and bravery, the first round will have to go to the stomach bug.  But I sense the momentum has changed directions and the underdogs will emerge victorious!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Self Defense

That second cinnamon roll I had this morning? Yeah, well...I ate it in self defense.  Cause you never know when your love handles will save your life.

The woman in this story claims that her love handles saved her from a bullet, as if they are made from some kind of bullet-proof material.  I love the comment made by "right randy" at the bottom.  It sounds crass but it's kinda true.  She was hit by the bullet because she was in the way and she wouldn't have been in the way if her love handles didn't take up so much space.

I wonder if my doctor will accept this reasoning at my next appointment.  "Okay so I only lost five pounds this month but that's only cause I'm worried about being in a situation where I'm the line of fire and I need a defensive shield?"  Yeah, he's totally gonna roll his eyes at me.  Which is what I did after reading this story.

All this did was prove to myself that I use the lamest excuses as to why I haven't lost weight.  "But my schedule is crazy", "my metabolism is out of whack", "I'm too tired in the morning...or the middle of the day...or the end of the day", "I'm allergic to whole grains", "I'm hungry", "but I need my love handles in case I ever decide to walk into a bar in Atlantic City..."  Oh brother, why don't you people tell me when I sound so ridiculous? Please do.  Hold me accountable.  I can't promise that I won't throw a cinammon roll at you but I will listen.  :-)

Wednesday, February 24, 2010


I think that fourteen years of being with me is starting to rub off on Howie.  I am normally the one who has a trigger happy hand when it comes to throwing things out.  Because I hate clutter.  How many times have I said that on this blog? I bet if you counted and someone paid you a penny for each time, you would be able to buy that island you've always wanted.

Anyway, I'm always the one throwing things out; receipts, boxes, money, gift certificates, you name it.  Because the thought of papers laying aimlessly on my counters makes me crazy.  In turn, this makes Howie crazy because our personalities are polar opposites in that regard.  He keeps receipts from that one time, back in 1982, when he bought a pack of gum.

So anyway, my point...yes...well, I went out early and bought him a Valentine's Day card along with a "from the both of us" one for Mamaw.  I left them in the car by accident and he brought them inside and proceeded to throw them away even though they were in a Rite Aid bag filled with useful things like facial scrub and drippy nose medicine.

And of course, I didn't have time to return to the store until the morning of Valentine's day.  I went to church and then ran by the pharmacy to pick up the cards and standing in the checkout line I noticed a man in front of me. He was an older man with a large belly hanging out of a ripped shirt. He had duct tape securing the lining of his coat collar and he was wearing flip flops even though it was freezing outside.  He smelled AWFUL!  The kind of awful where you reach down and pull your shirt over your nose and start to breathe through it in the hopes that it will cut some of the stench. The kind of awful where the stink follows you home and lingers around you for hours.

He loaded his items on the counter: soap (THANK YOU!!), medicine, toilet paper, q-tips, and a host of other personal care items. I was so glad when he was done because he stopped moving and the stinky breeze he was creating finally ceased as well.  The cashier totaled everything up and he swiped his card, except it was declined.  He asked her to swipe it again and told her that he had just added money to it so there should be no problems.  Still declined.  By this point there was a steady stream of people lining up behind us and he was getting nervous.  "Run it again", he said hopefully.  The cashier rolled her eyes and as soon as she did I heard it: "pay for him."

It was in my thoughts, the place where I normally hear incredibly crazy things like this, the place where God is most likely to speak to me.  "Oh no, no, no...did you see how much his bill was? Seventy dollars!  That's craziness!", I said to myself.  And then a chorus of my new year's resolution about giving started to chant through my brain.  " the point where it hurts, to the point where it hurts, to the point where it hurts."

By the time I was done talking to myself the cashier and the man had come to a stand off.  He was desperate, she was discomfited.  "I'll pay for it", I said before really thinking it through.  I had swiped my card before the cashier had a chance to confirm it.  "It worked!, said the man when the receipt printed out."  "No, this woman paid for you", the cashier explained.  He turned to look at me with a look of complete surprise and happiness.  "God Bless you", he said thankfully. It was a great gift of love on Valentine's Day and I gave it to someone that I don't even know! "How can I repay you? There must be something", he asked.  I told him simply to help someone in need if he ever had the means, to do something nice for someone else.

And then he did something surprising, something that is the reason that I'm writing this in the first place.  He reached into his wallet, pulled out everything he had to his name, twenty-five dollars, and handed it to me.  I tried to tell him that he didn't have to but he insisted and I didn't want to take his dignity. I took it and smiled. 
What struck me is how he so easily reached into his pocket and gave me everything he had.  If I were in dire need, if I couldn't afford to buy soap and juice and someone spared me, I think I would be grateful but would also keep the money that I had just in case I needed it later.  He didn't hesitate, he didn't think, he didn't ponder or worry, he just did it.  What a huge act of humility and faith on his part.  I'm sure he didn't have any more money. He didn't have credit either.  The card he had was one of the pre-paid kinds and it was clearly useless.  It's not like he had cash at home in his OTHER wallet.  He didn't have a car, he was pushing a cart full of trash bags and walked to a housing complex for older people with medical problems.  I know they are low income because I had looked into them when my mom was considering a move to Connecticut. Most of the residents live on SSI alone.  He's far from rich and far from being without money worries.  How could he so readily just hand everything over?  Why am I not more like that? Why do I hesitate?

It was so convicting to think that I was doing something nice for this poor man only to realize that he is much richer than I am in terms of faith. It's deceiving how I can judge people as being in need on the outside when inside, they are well and whole and often times better off than me.  Boy, sometimes the most valuable lessons come from the most unlikely of places.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


It's day six without Facebook and my baseboards have never been so clean. 

Do you notice how I linked to it?  I went to the login page so that I could cut and paste the web address.  Because apparently is too much for me to remember.  I stared at the page and even sniffed my computer screen and closed my eyes as I enjoyed the sweet alluring aroma of the forbidden.

The other day I washed my walls.  MY WALLS, PEOPLE!  I even scrubbed in and under my baseboard heaters and found a mass grave full of dust bunnies.  I also found a few crayons, a marble, dried play dough, a quarter and one of my earrings.

What to do next.  *twiddles thumbs*  I'm bored and thankfully I found this site which gives me suggestions on how to fill my free time.  I think I'm going to start with "build an Eiffel Tower out of Belgian waffles" and "answer the phone in a funny accent".  That should keep me busy for a while!

Monday, February 22, 2010

February Tip

Have you ever forgotten a load of laundry in the washer?  And have you ever had your gag reflex tripped when you open up the washer and taken a wiff of the laundry you forgot? Ugh.  It happens to me all the time because I'm so easily distracted and frankly, laundry isn't on the top of my favorite things to do list.

It's not uncommon that I wash a single load of laundry at least three times before it finally makes it into the dryer. And the kicker? Even though it's been washed three times, it smells worse than before it went in the washer to begin with!!

But I have found a way to to fix this problem!  I got this information from the Queen Of Clean. Whoa, I just went to her website so I could link to it and saw a picture of her.  She used to be quite heavy and now she's a hot mama! Wow, you go girl!!  Anyway, instead of re-washing a forgotten load of laundry with detergent, re-wash with a cup of white vinegar.  It will deodorize the clothes as well as soften them.  It will also clean and extend the life of your washer by removing scum buildup, not to mention saving you money in detergent!  I've begun using vinegar in every load of laundry because I am certain that the clothes smell fresher.  It's because the vinegar literally cuts through odor and dirt where detergents will clean but often mask smells.  Before, my clothes were clean and did smell good but apparently there were still odors there that I didn't notice.  Now they smell AMAZING!

Don't worry, your clothes won't smell like vinegar.  In fact, they will be fresher than ever!  I will sometimes add a bit of softner but it's not necessary. So go forth and be fresh and don't feel bad if you forget a load of laundry overnight.  Look at it as an opportunity to give this tip a whirl :-)

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Places I'll Go

I've given up Facebook for lent. What was I thinking? I knew I should give up something that would be HARD for me to live without, something that would be a sacrifice, something that I enjoy but in the end does me no good.

It was between Facebook and TV and since Howie outright refused to give up TV and I knew I would never make it 40 days being the only one in the house doing it, Facebook it is!!  Again...what was I thinking?

I was thinking that I always make excuses for things that never get done.  And I'm not talking about dishes or laundry here.  There are things that get pushed to the wayside because I inadvertantly use up my time.  Things like calling old friends or reading or giving myself a pedicure.  "I'll get to that tomorrow" is the motto I tend to live by but I recognize that I can't keep putting things off.  Now, if I were putting them off for good reason, that would be a different story.  But Facebook? I'm putting off things for Facebook?  It's simply not worth it. 

I've already reaped some benefits.  On Thursday night I spoke with my best girlfriend in the whole world, my sister Kim.  She's not biologically my sister but she is my sister through and through.  If anything were to ever happen to me and Howie, it is she who would get my kids.  Because I love her more than can be written with words.  I trust her more, love her more and need her more than any friend I've ever had.  And I got to spend some time just talking with her.  That is something I keep thinking I should do and always put off for another night.  I felt overwhelmingly guilty when she told me she's been struggling with health issues and will soon need surgery to facilitate an official diagnosis of her condition.  The doctors are using the "c" word as a possibility and it worries me.  But how wonderful that I was there for her, that I was able to spend a few hours uplifting her and loving her, even if it was only through a receiver. So much better than planting crops on my farmville farm.

Besides, I find that Facebook merely eggagerates the worst part of people.  If someone is a complainer in real life, boy howdy are they even bigger complainers on Facebook.  If they are mean in real life, they get meaner.  If they are showy "look at me and all the stuff I have" kind of people, again...worse on Facebook.  It just ends up magnifying people's worst traits, including my own.  I struggle with feeling inadequate.  It's my Sysyphean challenge, my struggle.  And in everyday life I try very hard to not compare myself to other people because the only purpose in that is to make me feel terrible about myself.  Facebook only makes that worse for me because I sometimes perceive people to be doing such better than me when I see pictures of say, their amazing, fun filled vacations.  They are documenting their lives and their lives are full of excitment and travel.  If I took a picture of my exciting life, it would show me climbing a mountain of laundry or swimming through the rough waters of lake dishwater or exploring the jungles of my pantry.  I have a great life and there are things in it that are amazing and fill me with awe and joy.  But those things can't be captured by film and even if they were, I wouldn't share them with Facebook.

I was reading "Oh The Places You'll Go" to the kids last night.  We're brushing up on all our Dr. Seuss books in honor of his upcoming birthday.  And there's a line in that book that says "and remember that life's a great balancing act."  It struck me that he's exactly right.  My giving up Facebook is not because I want to reject it altogether.  It's just that I want the opportunity to step back for a while so that I can remember to keep everything in perspective.  It will be okay to check facebook for 15 minutes a day.  I just can't "check" it for 40 minutes. I will not farm or fish or feed my pet anymore.  It's just a waste of my time.  And I do need to remember that life's a great balancing act.  It's a balancing act for family, friends, food, exercise, alone time, motherhood, basically everything.  Shakespeare questioned why we can want too much of a good thing and showed how it can be destructive.  I think too much of anything or too little of anything is a bad thing.  Balance, now there is the ticket!

I'm going to do better.  I'm going to get things done.  I'm going to make balance my challenge.  Today is my day and I'm off to great places! My mountain is waiting so I'll get on my way :-)

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Be Ye Careful

I was browsing through my monthly blog statistics and found out that 4.08 of my traffic comes from people typing "the dangers of under-wire bras" into their google bars. Yes indeed.  I just did it myself and sure enough, there I am, third link down.  It's for THIS blog...a blog called "My Problems With Underwear" from back in 2008.

See ye careful about what ye writes or ye shall forever henceforth, years from now, be google-associated with that blog you did about who knows what.  Lets just hope that the white pube blog, pimple blog and period blogs I wrote get forever lost in the google archive.  Did you notice that I didn't link to them? There is a reason for that.  Trust me.

Oh, the consequences of brutally honest writing. *smirk*

Oh hey, speaking of brutally honest...I popped my Pampered Chef cherry on Monday night by consulting my first show.  It was great! I had fun except for the part where I didn't get my starter kit with all of my stuff in it.  Which means I had nothing to show, no order forms, no catalogs, no nothing.  Nice, huh?  Luckily, my recruiter saved the day and the show was a smashing (as in a wreck) success.  In all honesty, it was a good first effort on my part.  Because I cook so much and spend 99.95% of my time in the kitchen, I have some useful ideas.  Who knew that all that kitchen slavery would ever be useful?

I have four more shows coming up and am finding it quite easy to book parties.  The other stuff, the paperwork part, has been pretty tedious, mostly because it's impossible to do anything with the kids around.  I'm hoping that eventually I will find a groove and it will work out.  Because the benefits are great! The kitchen stuff is awesome, the money is good and I even get to write off expenses for travel if I have a show where I go!  Hey Maven *whistle* can I come visit you??? :-)  Hey you... Freaking Sugar Plum Fairy...can I come visit you too?? :-)

In the meantime I'm focusing on hitting my $1250 but my goal is to exceed that by a lot.  Because I don't do well at just getting by on the minimum.  I don't do half-assed. Unless of course, it's in regards to my project 365...or laundry...or doing my bills on time.  Okay, who am I kidding, I'm the queen of half-assedness.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Excuse me? Have you seen my brain?

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The kids were home for a couple of days this week.  And since it was snowy and cold and windy and frigid outside, I had two options: A) Stay home and let them rip me to shreds OR B) Take them out somewhere and hope that they burn off enough energy to get me through the day.  The energy that causes them to run laps around our kitchen and jump on every bed in the house and climb on top of furniture to get access to things like scissors which they promptly use to cut each other's hair.  Oh yes they did!  My sweet Bear who USED to have gorgeous, long hair in all one length now has a new style which I will call the "half bang".  This means that she has shortly chopped bangs on half of her head and mis-matched odds and ends chopped in Birdie's futile attempt to "layer" her hair. *sigh*  It took much strength not to ream Birdie out! But Bear thought that she looked so beautiful!! I didn't have the heart to get angry!

A group of us had decided to take the kids to an indoor bounce place, the perfect location to burn off some of that previously described "energy".  It was the perfect idea but just as we were about to leave I got a call from Raul's foster mother.  She wanted to come over to visit after lunch.  This was the first time he would ever be here and since we had been trying to get her to bring him for a while, I jumped at the opportunity.  I would be cutting it close but oh well, right?

Well, as you can imagine, my mind started racing. I was crazy nervous.  This was going to be a big deal. I knew we were going to be judged on our house (which was crazy dirty at the moment) and how we and the kids interacted with him.  She would be watching everything!  What if he hated it here? What if the kids didn't get along in this house? What if it freaked him out and he went running away and never wanted to return?

I headed to the bouncy place and got there right at 10 am.  The place was busy with people of all sizes all over the place.  I barely walked in the room when they handed me a waiver form and then it was time to pay and put our kids' coats in a bin all while trying to make sure they didn't run off and disappear into the bouncy abyss.  I was trying to write, pay, watch them and talk to a friend all in the same breath. I took my coat off and ran off inside, chasing after my yungins.

They had a great time.  They bounced, they slid, they ran around chasing people and enjoyed a drink and a snack.  At about a quarter to 12 I started rounding up the troops.  We got their coats and headed out to get mine except mine was missing.  And my keys were in it!  I asked the woman at the front desk if they had seen my red coat but nobody had.  They went inside to look around and it was nowhere to be found. 

We all looked around and I swore that I had brought my red coat...hung it up "RIGHT THERE" and well, "someone MUST have taken it!!"  It was futile.  The coat was gone and I was desperate to get home.  Luckily, a fellow mother offered to drive us home even though it was an inconvenience for her family.  I gladly accepted!  We were about half-way home when I had a moment to stop and reflect.  Did I wear my RED coat? Yes.  I think I did! Wait, I remember struggling to get my coat off and I only struggle with my BLUE coat.  Was it my blue coat? No.  Wait, was it? 

She dropped me off at home and I ran inside and quickly called the bounce place and asked them if they had a BLUE coat with keys in it.  Sure enough!!  It was there all along.  I had forgotten which coat I was wearing and then proceeded to accuse the staff for letting someone take it! And then I had someone drive me home and all the while my coat and keys were RIGHT THERE!!!!

It's funny cause on the way home, the woman driving me said, "it will work out, everything will be okay" and it struck me that I had ZERO concern for my coat and even less concern for my keys.  I was not worried about my car or about coming back to get it or even if someone may have stolen it.  My only concern was getting home in time to see Raul. It was my main-my only priority.

He did come, shortly after we arrived and we had a wonderful visit with him.  He walked in, kicked off his shoes and rushed right into the playroom as if he had been here a million times before, like he was familiar with the place.  His foster mom commented on how that was inappropriate behavior, that when he does things like that you realize how "different" he really is.  I didn't see it that way.  It may have been inappropriate in her opinion but in mine, it made me feel like he was at home and that was magnificent.

He played for a couple of hours.  He wore high heels with Bear and helped me console Bubba by hugging him after he fell and sat next to Birdie in her room and told her that he loved her. It was amazing to see him here, in this house, in our lives.  He fit in perfectly and he was so at ease, so at home.  She did have to leave a little early as she had her other 4 kids with her and they were getting antsy.  They didn't like that Raul was getting all of the attention.  They were curious about where he was coming and who we are but when they saw us with him, they got quite jealous.

She piled the kids in her car and I walked out with her, giving him hugs and kisses as he sat in his car seat.  Then the door closed and they were off, down the driveway and for some reason, I just burst into tears.  It's always been us who visited him and while it was hard to leave him it was us doing the leaving.  Somehow watching him leave was a million times harder.  I wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and never let him go and I realized that we've come to a point of no return.  I could never turn my back on him now because now he owns a piece of my heart.  I am starting to fall in love with him and each visit, while it gets us closer and closer to bringing him home, gets harder and harder because we have to let him go at the end of the day. I'm starting to get uncomfortable when I hear the nearly constant questioning of "when is he coming home, isn't he home yet, when will he be with you permanently?"  Because I don't have the answer and I wish I did.  And when I don't have adequate answers people squint their eyes and shake their heads and say, "what's taking so long? What's wrong?"  I wish I could communicate his needs better and that people would understand that he does have tremendous special needs and that our family is going to great lengths to do right by Raul, to make the process easier for him.   I used to be able to blow it off but this too is getting harder.  Don't they know that I'm just as frustrated and that it's taking every ounce of our patience and endurance to get through this?

I get to see him twice this week and be left alone with him for the first time.  Next week we'll see him twice, maybe three times and he will soon be starting his daily and weekend visits.  I can't believe we're already six weeks into this. We still have a few weeks to go and we are facing some difficulties with his transition.  Maybe.  Because none of us know how this will go down.  We've done a great job of easing him into things and there have been no problems so far although that may change when it becomes permanent. 

I know this for sure: each visit from now on will get harder and harder and these next few weeks will take a LOT more emotional fortitude than I ever expected.  I'm distracted, as evidenced by me forgetting my coat and keys even though they were right in front of me.  By the end of this I will surely lose part of my mind!

I did go back to the bounce place and purposely sought out the manager who had bore my exasperation.  I whole heatedly apologized and even gave her a hug.  It's not always easy to humble ourselves and admit our mistakes, especially when they are so blatant.  It needed to be done and she was so generous to accept my apology so readily.  If you know me personally, please be prepared for my mental absence for a while to come and I humbly request your patience.  This too shall pass and I will soon be back to my normal self but for right now, don't be surprised if I forget your name.  Or even my own name.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A Little Passive Agressive

There is a dance that happens every night at our house.  It goes like this...Howie turns the TV off and asks me if I'm ready to go to bed, which is in itself more of a ritual than an actual question because by the time he asks me, it's been two hours that I've been passed out on the couch.  Because he's been watching Tekzilla or something equally as nerdy that makes me feel like someone shoved a hot spike up my nose and scrambled my brain.

But here's where it gets interesting.  As soon as I'm half conscious, I run upstairs as fast as I can so as to avoid being the last one downstairs.  This is because I don't want to be the one to turn out the lights.  Or let the cats in. Plus, I want first dibs at the potty.  Because waiting for the man to pee is like that one scene from "Austin Powers" right after they have defrosted him from his cryogenic state.  You know, the one where it takes him FOURTEEN HOURS to pee.  And just when they think he's done and the computer tries to say "evacuation complete" he starts peeing again.  That scene has played out countless times in our own bathroom where I stand over his shoulder, with my legs crossed while I do the pee pee dance as he continues to pee and pee and pee and pee. There are bills in Congress that have passed faster than his urine!

But that's not totally the reason why I dart upstairs.  You see, if I'm the last person to come upstairs I do what most normal people do...I turn the lights off behind me.  Howie does not understand this concept.  If I'm left downstairs alone he will turn off every light in the house and leave me in the dark so that I have to turn on the light in the hallway so that when I turn the kitchen light off, I won't be blinded.  Then I have to work my way, backwards through the house, turning lights on and off, on and off until I finally make it upstairs.

And yes, I understand that I could just turn everything off and walk through the house in the dark but we have a large house and it's spooky.  And creaky.  And did I mention spooky?  Here's the funny thing about that- it's not like Howie has a problem with leaving lights on.  We've been together almost fourteen years and in that time I have been completely unsuccessful at getting him to A) remember that his coat goes in the closet and not draped over the corner of the kitchen counter.  B) get rid of his favorite (yet overwhelmingly disgusting) pillow that he's had for almost twenty years because the thought of what crawls around inside of it gives me nightmares.  C) Learn to turn off the lights in the basement, closets, even in the cars as proven last week when the mini-van wouldn't start because he forgot that he left the dome light on all night.

So, it's not a matter of him being frugal or environmentally conscious.  Nope *said with a popping sound to emphasize the "P"*  No my friends, this stems from years and years of living with a blind mother who didn't know the difference between whether the lights were on or off.  So he could easily leave her alone in a completely darkened house and she would never know the difference.  But here's the problem: I'M NOT BLIND!! I need the light to steer my way and protect my delicate pinkie toes from jamming themselves into our furniture!!  But it's just reflexive for him.

And so last night as we were both at the bathroom sink brushing our teeth and washing our faces I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. Because he had just moments before left me downstairs in the pitch blackness of night.  I finished up quickly and then I turned off the light and walked out, leaving him standing there in the dark bathroom.  It immediately clicked because he started cracking up and puffs of toothpaste came shooting out of his mouth.  "Okay, okay...I get it", he said, in between giggles. I think I made my point.

But man, I really have to do something about that pillow.  Because just the thought of it, just the memory of it, as I wrote it in this blog made me scratchy all over. I tell you, there are generations upon generations of dust mites living in that thing.  Maybe it can "accidentally" fall victim to an "unfortunate", "unforeseen", "circumstance". *scratches head and then all over body*

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Ima Pampered Chef

The other night I hosted a Pampered Chef party.  And honestly, the only reason that I host parties like that is for the loot.  It's the only way that I can legitimize the acquisition of party stuff.  Because I can't justify spending money to BUY the stuff but I am happy to get it for free :-)

And then my consultant told me about this promotional thing where you can become a new consultant and get a kit worth several hundred dollars for the amazing price of seventy some dollars.  And then only have to sell like $1250 in stuff (about 3 parties) but then you're contract is done.  You are not obligated after that.  You also get $250 in cash and $100 in pampered chef dollars to spend as you choose and extra commission if you sell more.

Here is where I make a dramatic confession to you.  My kitchen could easily rival that of a collage freshman's.  I have mismatched coffee cups that are chipped and cracked.  I own three different sizes and colors of plates.  My dinner glasses are plastic Eskimo Joe cups that I bought for $6 about three years ago.  My knives are dull, my can opener and cheese grater can be considered lethal weapons and I can never seem to find the 1/3 measuring cup!

My cookware retains the scent of my dish soap so much so that my kids actually think it's normal to eat scrambled eggs that are seasoned with water lily and jasmine.  My spatulas melt so much that I'm pretty sure that the melted plastic constitutes a large percentage of our daily fiber intake.

And so it wasn't complicated to decide that it is totally worth doing a few shows in order to make our kitchen suitable for grown ups with four children.  Because there is only so much teflon a child should ingest.  Doing so will allow me to get approximately $1,000 in free products when I combine how much I got at my show plus all of the incentives.  I'm so excited!! I might even spring for the cookie press that makes snow men that look  like giant penises.  You know, so I have something to send in for the school Christmas party next year.

Now I just need to study the catalog so I'm not at my first show calling the zester/scorer a "thingamajigger".

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Because I Love This

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This is from one of my favorite books, "Tuesdays With Morrie".  You can read it in a matter of an afternoon but it can change your perspective for weeks to come.

"So many people walk around with a meaningless life.  They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important.  This is because they're chasing the wrong things.  The way to get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning."