Cousin and I talked on the phone today. We discussed what heaven will be like when we get there.
In heaven, we are going to have a rainbow chock-full of soy lattes. Up there, we will sit on the arch of our rainbow and hold hands and talk about our feelings, which will always be awesome and happy, because we'll be in heaven! Yeah!
No more problems or money issues. Just rainbows, soy lattes, hand-holding, happy feelings, and lions. Lots and lots of lions.
Cousin wants to suck on the faces of cute little lions in heaven. And hey, it's heaven, so why not!? I dig it.
And we'll be able to eat all the food we want and not get fat! Chocolate and red velvet cake and cookies! Roast with glazed carrots and creamy mashed potatoes! Bomb! Oh, and pizza.
And we'll never have to worry about picking up after pooping, peeing animals again, because instead of pooping out waste, they'll poop out blessings made of flowers. Then we'll be able to run through the meadow made of these blessings and sing songs with Cousin's scruffy, flannel-wearing, guitar-playing husband. Which will be amazing-pants.
And then Hubbs will be there too. He and his best guy-friend will get to spend all their time at the range, shooting their guns and discussing grenades and rifles and bazookas. And they'll play Army and wear war paint.
And I'll write songs and bake cookies and eat lots of spaghetti. It's my fave. Especially when there's garlic toast. And EVOO with cracked black pepper. Yums!
And Alli and Max will be there, and we will get to suck on their faces once again, and they will love it.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Dollops and Panties and Rags, Oh My!
Sister has this thing where she doesn't like certain words. Whether it's the way people say them, the context with which the words are used, or even just the way the words themselves sound out loud, she hates them.
These words are fairly inoccuous. They don't have any particularly foul or crude definitions. They're just your everyday run-of-the-mill words.
Take for instance, the word dollop. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you see, hear, or say this word? Could it be, perhaps, the Daisy Sour Cream jingle? It is for Sister. The advertisement comes on the tv, and just the words of the song are enough to turn her into a crazy-hurry-grab-the-clicker-and-mute-the-tv-I'm-gonna-shank-someone-right-now-if-I-hear-the-word-dollop-pants. So naturally, it's funsies to sing the song. Often.
If dollops of sour cream don't get her blood boiling, it's panties. In case you didn't know, those lacy garments under your pants are not panties. They are undies. Somehow the word undies is much less disgusting. I don't even know where this comes from. I say panties. Who doesn't say panties? I mean, if it's good enough for Victoria, and especially since Sister shops at her secretive lingerie shop, then why can't she bring herself to say the word? Why does the mere thought of the word panties send her into spastic wretching and vomiting? I don't get it. But just for social experiment's sake, I say the word when she's around... you know, to see if she'll have the same reaction every time. She does.
As for the word rag, this time it's in reference to someone who is "on the rag." I don't think I've heard anyone use this phrase. Ever. The only times I've heard someone say the word rag was in the context of, "Hey, throw me that rag over there. I need to wipe up this water I spilled." Who, Sister, says "I'm on the rag"? Really?
Oh, Sissy, I heart you and your weird word phobias!
These words are fairly inoccuous. They don't have any particularly foul or crude definitions. They're just your everyday run-of-the-mill words.
Take for instance, the word dollop. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you see, hear, or say this word? Could it be, perhaps, the Daisy Sour Cream jingle? It is for Sister. The advertisement comes on the tv, and just the words of the song are enough to turn her into a crazy-hurry-grab-the-clicker-and-mute-the-tv-I'm-gonna-shank-someone-right-now-if-I-hear-the-word-dollop-pants. So naturally, it's funsies to sing the song. Often.
If dollops of sour cream don't get her blood boiling, it's panties. In case you didn't know, those lacy garments under your pants are not panties. They are undies. Somehow the word undies is much less disgusting. I don't even know where this comes from. I say panties. Who doesn't say panties? I mean, if it's good enough for Victoria, and especially since Sister shops at her secretive lingerie shop, then why can't she bring herself to say the word? Why does the mere thought of the word panties send her into spastic wretching and vomiting? I don't get it. But just for social experiment's sake, I say the word when she's around... you know, to see if she'll have the same reaction every time. She does.
As for the word rag, this time it's in reference to someone who is "on the rag." I don't think I've heard anyone use this phrase. Ever. The only times I've heard someone say the word rag was in the context of, "Hey, throw me that rag over there. I need to wipe up this water I spilled." Who, Sister, says "I'm on the rag"? Really?
Oh, Sissy, I heart you and your weird word phobias!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
It's that time of year again: summer colon cleansing!
I'm trying to lose weight. I have been since October 2008, but I'm still a Fatty-McFat-Fat, twenty months later. So not the plan.
I had kind of thought that maybe by this time, Hubby and I would possibly be working on bringing Baby #2 into the world, but I just can't bring myself to do that when I haven't even lost all the preggo weight from the first time around. When Hubby and I were first married, I decided (and when I say decided, I mean I did so without actually consulting Hubbs) that it would be a fantastic idea to put no more than two years between each of our children. At the time I did not realize that Hubby would actually have to consent to this plan, nor did I account for the fat still hanging out around my mid-section.
I really feel I should explain myself here... I'm OCD. I thought that if I meticulously planned my child-bearing years, I could have my chosen number of four children before I reached the age of 30.
I now see the flaws in this plan.
For one, by the time I'm 30, if I had four children between the ages of 0 and 8, I'd be crazy-pants and not even able to raise them... as I'd be institutionalized.
Two, labor and childibrth hurt like a mother. Three, I'm still fat-pants. Four, I'm poor. Five, I live with my parents. Six, I don't think I want four kids. I think maybe I'd like two, because... seven, my hoo-ha can only take so much. Eight, I don't want to be the next Duggar woman with a tv show. She seems super-sweet, but I don't want to perpetually shop at Motherhood, Pea in the Pod, or Boat World.
Now, this is not my little Roo's fault. I used pregnancy, and then nursing, as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted to, saying, "It's for the baby. He needs this chocolate mouse cheesecake laced with 300 grams of fat!" Ugh. Hindsight is 20/20.
So anyway, I'm going to do a cleanse! It's a ten-day herbal cleanse from AdvoCare. I've done it before, and even though I struggled to follow all the tiny, little food do's and don't's, I still felt great by the end of it. So this time, I'm hoping that not only will I have more energy and clearer skin again, but that it will also jumpstart my weight loss plans and get me back on the right track.
I had kind of thought that maybe by this time, Hubby and I would possibly be working on bringing Baby #2 into the world, but I just can't bring myself to do that when I haven't even lost all the preggo weight from the first time around. When Hubby and I were first married, I decided (and when I say decided, I mean I did so without actually consulting Hubbs) that it would be a fantastic idea to put no more than two years between each of our children. At the time I did not realize that Hubby would actually have to consent to this plan, nor did I account for the fat still hanging out around my mid-section.
I really feel I should explain myself here... I'm OCD. I thought that if I meticulously planned my child-bearing years, I could have my chosen number of four children before I reached the age of 30.
I now see the flaws in this plan.
For one, by the time I'm 30, if I had four children between the ages of 0 and 8, I'd be crazy-pants and not even able to raise them... as I'd be institutionalized.
Two, labor and childibrth hurt like a mother. Three, I'm still fat-pants. Four, I'm poor. Five, I live with my parents. Six, I don't think I want four kids. I think maybe I'd like two, because... seven, my hoo-ha can only take so much. Eight, I don't want to be the next Duggar woman with a tv show. She seems super-sweet, but I don't want to perpetually shop at Motherhood, Pea in the Pod, or Boat World.
Now, this is not my little Roo's fault. I used pregnancy, and then nursing, as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted to, saying, "It's for the baby. He needs this chocolate mouse cheesecake laced with 300 grams of fat!" Ugh. Hindsight is 20/20.
So anyway, I'm going to do a cleanse! It's a ten-day herbal cleanse from AdvoCare. I've done it before, and even though I struggled to follow all the tiny, little food do's and don't's, I still felt great by the end of it. So this time, I'm hoping that not only will I have more energy and clearer skin again, but that it will also jumpstart my weight loss plans and get me back on the right track.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Facebook quizzes cause paranoia and identity crises
Do you suffer from multiple personality disorder? Paranoia? Identity crisis?
If you do, I have the solution to your problem! It's called Facebook.
It's a magical world where you can discover the color of your aura, which Golden Girl or Kardashian sister you are, or even the personality of your inner unicorn.
It was late, I couldn't sleep, there was nothing to watch on TV... and as a consequence of insomniac-induced insecurity, I decided to find out more about myself. Surely Facebook could tell me all the things I was secretly needing to know.
Here are my results...
My musical key is G Minor. I have a flair for the dramatic. I'm argumentative, emotional, and I have a hot temper.
If you do, I have the solution to your problem! It's called Facebook.
It's a magical world where you can discover the color of your aura, which Golden Girl or Kardashian sister you are, or even the personality of your inner unicorn.
It was late, I couldn't sleep, there was nothing to watch on TV... and as a consequence of insomniac-induced insecurity, I decided to find out more about myself. Surely Facebook could tell me all the things I was secretly needing to know.
Here are my results...
My musical key is G Minor. I have a flair for the dramatic. I'm argumentative, emotional, and I have a hot temper.
- This is true. I do have a hot temper. I am a redhead, after all.
If I were one of the Kardashian sisters, I would be Kourtney. I'm very stubborn. I hold grudges. But I also have a sweet and loving side.
- Yeah, I can see that. I always have had a problem with bitterness. Plus, Kourtney is the oldest sister, and I am in my family too.
If I were one of Shakespeare's characters, I'd be Viola or Rosalind. I don't give up easily, and I like to wear men's clothes.
- Okay, so while I may be tenacious and go after things I really want, men's clothing is not one of them. Or is it? I wonder what the Facebook quiz guru recognized in me that caused me to get this result?
I am a pink Sharpie.
- There was no explanation from Guru on this one. Maybe it just thinks I like pink. But I mostly wear black. What does this mean!?
My inner instrument is the clarinet. I am versatile with fingers of fire. I love speed. My enemy is the trumpet. My best friend is the oboe.
- But I played the alto saxophone! To think I was a clarinet this whole time? How could I have missed the truth within me for so long? Maybe I need to go back to school... Surely, the key to my absolute bliss lies in playing the clarinet and being besties with an oboe-player!
My inner pin-up girl is the typical housewife. I am a bright, happy girl. I am full of joy and always ready to help others. Sometimes I am a trouble-maker.
- I am a wife and mother, and I do live in a house. But it's not my house, so I don't know how typical that makes me. I thought I was happy, but am I missing my true calling? Somewhere out there is a typical house with my typical name on it, and I am supposed to have typical shutters and a typical white picket fence. Where's my typical husband and my typical son? My typical dog? What does that even mean???
My inner nationality is Swedish. I'm friendly, gentle, and modest. I have a good heart and a lusty nature. I have a well-developed sense of irony. I tend to understand people intuitively. I have a sense of insider vs. outsider and stick to people within my own circle. I am loyal and timid.
- Wait? I thought I was an American... Does this mean I'm going to be deported? I don't speak Swedish! I don't even know where Sweden is! This is bad. Really, really bad. Or does this mean that I'm adopted? And my parents never told me!?
Are these quiz results supposed to make me feel better? Somehow, I've been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic! Which one of my personalities is Kourtney Kardashian? Is there a secret part of me that wants to wear Big Dog t-shirts and Birkenstocks!? Will I be shipped off to Sweden and forced to play the clarinet? Will the Swedes make me marry that typical husband and make typical babies with him?
I wonder if I can check these symptoms on WebMD?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
You never know what you'll find in the home remedy section of a health food store
I'm disturbed. Like, for reals. Not in an "I-need-my-meds-now" kind of way, but just in a general "I-really-wish-I'd-never-seen-that" way.
Sister, Friend, and I went to Earth Fare today, which honestly, is pretty much my fave store these days, as far as grocery stores go, that is.
Until today, I'd only ever grazed on free snackage from around the store... because they'll let you try anything... so I can make a whole meal out of taste-testing the peanuts, various trail mixes, almond butter, olives from around the world, cheese, crackers, chocolate... really, whatever I can get my hands on.
But today, Sister and I were with Friend, who may be preggo, so because she was feeling queasy, I decided I'd find her some preggo tea. Mother-in-Law got me some when I was preggo. I mean, I never drank it because there were naked nursing women on the box and in the magazine that came with the tea, and seriously, I was freaked out and charged with preggo hormones, so you know, I threw it away. But since I at least knew of this type of weirdo tea, I thought maybe Friend might find it helpful for her upset tummy.
But on the way to looking for this magic tea, we stumbled upon the home remedy aisle of the beauty section of the store. What we discovered was strange, weird, bizarre, disturbing, creepy... (I'm running out of adjectives... ooh, disconcerting)... to say the least.
There are photos.
Because who would believe there are actually products with these names?...
Sister, Friend, and I went to Earth Fare today, which honestly, is pretty much my fave store these days, as far as grocery stores go, that is.
Until today, I'd only ever grazed on free snackage from around the store... because they'll let you try anything... so I can make a whole meal out of taste-testing the peanuts, various trail mixes, almond butter, olives from around the world, cheese, crackers, chocolate... really, whatever I can get my hands on.
But today, Sister and I were with Friend, who may be preggo, so because she was feeling queasy, I decided I'd find her some preggo tea. Mother-in-Law got me some when I was preggo. I mean, I never drank it because there were naked nursing women on the box and in the magazine that came with the tea, and seriously, I was freaked out and charged with preggo hormones, so you know, I threw it away. But since I at least knew of this type of weirdo tea, I thought maybe Friend might find it helpful for her upset tummy.
But on the way to looking for this magic tea, we stumbled upon the home remedy aisle of the beauty section of the store. What we discovered was strange, weird, bizarre, disturbing, creepy... (I'm running out of adjectives... ooh, disconcerting)... to say the least.
There are photos.
Because who would believe there are actually products with these names?...
- Yeast Free Vaginal Salve
- Sweet Annie Vinegar Douche
- Vital Vulva Wild Yam Salve
- Diva Cup
The salves, I can only imagine must be for a raging case of genital warts.
As for the vinegar douche, um... ga-ross!!! Why not just squirt a bottle of Heinz 57 up there?
The Diva Cup was by far the most disturbing of all. Really, it was the final straw. We had to leave after this one, because Friend was getting sick. The Diva Cup is an alternative to other brands like Tampax and Always... You get the idea... And every woman is entitled to her own way of taking care of things... Even the hippie ones... But the thing that made us want to wretch, and frankly, confused the mess out of us was that this Diva Cup came with a charm... like on a charm bracelet... What we couldn't figure out was, "Where the heck does THAT go!?"
Saturday, June 12, 2010
On Rainbows, Soy, and Hand-Holding
Yea! My first blog post ever! How excited are you to read the thoughts that come straight from my head to the keyboard? Well, actually, you might not be that excited, but that's okay, because I am excited enough for everyone!
Let me tell you a little about myself... I'm Kimi. I'm married to my high school sweetheart. We've been married for 3 years, but we've been together for 10. Well, almost 10. We have a son, and he is pretty much the cutest little boy you will ever meet. When I see him, I just want to squish him and suck on his cheeks! And no, that's not awkward or weird or anything... He digs it. Totally. We also have an Aussie Shepherd mix named Jake. Yeah, well, we didn't get to name our dog. You see, he was a rescue dog, and he already had a name... So that's my family. Well, I have a bigger family than that, but that's boring-pants stuff, and you don't care. Unless you do, in which case, I can tell you all about them... but for now, I'm leaving them out.
So about the rainbows, the soy, and the hand-holding... It's this thing with my cousin Shelly. And I know I said I wouldn't get into the whole family thing, but we're like, super close. And she lives in Washington (the state, not D.C.)... so we don't really get to see each other a whole lot, but we do get to talk on the phone, and sometimes we even Skype. Which we need to do again soon, by the way. Anyway, when we have a bad day, we call each other, so we call each other A LOT. On one such day, we were venting, and I said, "Wouldn't it be great if we could just get away from all our problems and sit on a rainbow for a while instead?" The rainbow, of course, being the magical ability to escape reality, because let's face it, everyone likes to do that every once in a while. Right? And then Shelly said, "And we'll drink soy lattes and hold hands too!" I said I dig it, and she did too. So it has kind of become our thing.
I am super excited to write about my life! Be prepared for rants on things that bother me, my love affair with chocolate, my weight loss journey as a result of said love affair, bad days, and just complaining in general over the ins and outs of mommyhood and wifery. Oh, and old people who can't drive. Really, anyone who can't drive. Please get off the road. Also, what bothers me? Geico. And their advertising. Those cavemen are butt. Other things that bother me: Oprah, Joy Behar, Whoopi Goldburg, Shar Jackson, and anyone else on The View... BP bothers me. Yappy dogs bother me. I'm bothered by women who think it's okay to wear a two-sizes-too-small babydoll John Deer t-shirt with no bra, to a healthfood store! It's one thing to walk into Walmart looking like that, and something else entirely to step foot into Earth Fare like that. If you can afford to shop at a fancy-pants grocery store, then you can afford some Victoria's Secret, okay?
Let me tell you a little about myself... I'm Kimi. I'm married to my high school sweetheart. We've been married for 3 years, but we've been together for 10. Well, almost 10. We have a son, and he is pretty much the cutest little boy you will ever meet. When I see him, I just want to squish him and suck on his cheeks! And no, that's not awkward or weird or anything... He digs it. Totally. We also have an Aussie Shepherd mix named Jake. Yeah, well, we didn't get to name our dog. You see, he was a rescue dog, and he already had a name... So that's my family. Well, I have a bigger family than that, but that's boring-pants stuff, and you don't care. Unless you do, in which case, I can tell you all about them... but for now, I'm leaving them out.
So about the rainbows, the soy, and the hand-holding... It's this thing with my cousin Shelly. And I know I said I wouldn't get into the whole family thing, but we're like, super close. And she lives in Washington (the state, not D.C.)... so we don't really get to see each other a whole lot, but we do get to talk on the phone, and sometimes we even Skype. Which we need to do again soon, by the way. Anyway, when we have a bad day, we call each other, so we call each other A LOT. On one such day, we were venting, and I said, "Wouldn't it be great if we could just get away from all our problems and sit on a rainbow for a while instead?" The rainbow, of course, being the magical ability to escape reality, because let's face it, everyone likes to do that every once in a while. Right? And then Shelly said, "And we'll drink soy lattes and hold hands too!" I said I dig it, and she did too. So it has kind of become our thing.
I am super excited to write about my life! Be prepared for rants on things that bother me, my love affair with chocolate, my weight loss journey as a result of said love affair, bad days, and just complaining in general over the ins and outs of mommyhood and wifery. Oh, and old people who can't drive. Really, anyone who can't drive. Please get off the road. Also, what bothers me? Geico. And their advertising. Those cavemen are butt. Other things that bother me: Oprah, Joy Behar, Whoopi Goldburg, Shar Jackson, and anyone else on The View... BP bothers me. Yappy dogs bother me. I'm bothered by women who think it's okay to wear a two-sizes-too-small babydoll John Deer t-shirt with no bra, to a healthfood store! It's one thing to walk into Walmart looking like that, and something else entirely to step foot into Earth Fare like that. If you can afford to shop at a fancy-pants grocery store, then you can afford some Victoria's Secret, okay?
I also feel that I should preface every post with "I have a dry sense of humor. I love irony and sarcasm. Please do not be offended. This blog is for funsies." But that disclaimer would get super-redundant and annoying, so here it is, just this once. Enjoy!
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