Picture Worth A Thousand Words

I ran an errand with my sister-in-law who has two little boys, ages 3 & 5. This is what her shopping basket looked like: (I found this quite humorous)

Berenstain Bear Books. $10

Cool outdoor plates for kiddos. $5

Big bottle of Margarita Mix. PRICELESS!

Hey! You know what they say...If Momma Ain't happy, Ain't nobody happy!

Breakdowns, Cooking, Acting and Love

I come to a lot of important decisions through a moment of crisis…a breakdown…with lots of tears and usually a lack of sleep! There’s a moment of crisis or a breakdown because I’ve ignored that little inner voice in my head and continued to just plug down the wrong path, just FYI. This method hasn’t failed me yet!



I had ANOTHER brilliant idea! (But, no, this idea did not come to me through a moment of crisis…a breakdown…with lots of tears and lack of sleep; well, yes, on the lack of sleep part. That sentence up there was just a random moment of enlightenment. So I had to share. Before I forgot.)

Anyway, there are massive amounts of cooking websites. They're sites that I love to visit and I'll see something that looks so incredibly delicious, that I just have to have the recipe, which almost always invariably consists of instructions...and ingredients...way beyond my skill level. I know they’re beyond my skill level because I don’t know what the words mean, thank you for asking.

So, the other night while I was sitting at home eating a very yummy, healthy and simple (very simple) meal, the thought dawned on me that I should, on my blog, share my healthy, simple, yummy and satisfying dinners! I figure, I'm not the only gal out there who is culinary challenged and if I can help just one soul...

So! The other night when I successfully pan fried chicken and made uber delicious fajitas, I took pictures! And, I’m going to show you! Soon. Very soon.

I think I deserve a big kudos. Not only did I pan fry chicken, I stir fried veggies AND took pics…all with out setting off one fire alarm or causing any big flames! Go, Missy!!!!!



Oh my gosh…Man, I must be a good actor! I don’t even know how I do it. Let me explain. About once a year someone will make a comment to me, and it happened just now, where they state that they perceive me as being a sweet person who does not lose her temper. They say that they can’t imagine me yelling at Dave or envision me in a fight and they go on to further say that they see me acting more like a stereotypical school teacher in fights.

OH, this cracks me UP! If Dave heard people say that he would surely choke on his spit and probably die of shock. In fact, this is probably the furthest description of the truth for Dave. I find this perception so funny! I wish I had enough self control to never lose my temper and act like a crazy woman…I bet my Mom, Grandma, Michelle, Paula, Jennifer, Dave, Uncle Tom, Thomas and Papa all feel the same way, too! Ahhh, but, I’m glad I have a few people fooled. It’s all part of my plan…whaaaa-haaaa-haaa!

Hmmm…I think there’s about 8 people out there right now wishing they were the ones being fooled, too!



Well, apparently I love Wal-Mart greeters and apparently, I tell them so!

The other evening I had to pick up a birthday card from Wal-Mart. After I purchased it and was leaving the store, my mind wondered to the note that I was going to write in the card. Just as I was approaching the store exit (where the Wal-Mart greeters are) I was, in my head, wrapping up the note I was going to write. At this time, the Wal-Mart greeter said good bye to me and wished me a good day. I, on the other hand, had love on the brain, because in my head I was writing ‘Love, Missy,” so, I replied to the Wal-Mart greeter without even thinking, “Love you, too!”

*SIGH*

OH. MY. GOSH.

The minute ‘love’ exited my mouth I was mortified. And, the rest of the “you, too,” kind of came out like “ewwwwewwww,” because I was trying to stop myself from telling a complete stranger that I loved him, too!

Only me. This stuff only happens to me.

Sheesh

I SURVIVED COOKING!

First I was afraid
I was petrified
I thought I could never cook
and so I didn't even try
But I spent so many nights
eatin' everything that was wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
In the kitchen!
Fryin' chicken!
I used a wok, and everything came naturally
I had that glad look upon my face
had I known for just one second
That I could cook so easily!

Go on now fire extinguishers
walk outside the door
Just turn around now
'cause you're not welcome anymore
Missy had some trouble in the past
and she had to think real fast
she almost burnt her house but no, not this time
Oh no, Not I
I will survive
As long as I know how to pan fry chicken
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to cook
I've got all my food to give
and I'll survive
I will survive

It took all the strength I had
not to call for pizza
kept trying hard to cook
the stuff that was in my kitchen
and I spent oh so many nights
just eatin other people's food
I ate out but
Now I hold my wok up high
and you see me
eatin' chicken
I'm not that restaurant crazed person
still scared to cook alone
and no 9-1-1 wasn't called
Dave was there to help me
now I'm savin all my worryin
and given up on kitchn catastropheeees!

I Need You to Send Positive Thoughts My Way!

Tonight, I am attempting something dangerous…something velly, velly dangelous…

Tonight, for the first time ever, I am cooking chicken in a frying pan! *pause for reaction and wipe that shocked look of horror off your face *

OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN ABOVE PLEASE KEEP ME AND MY FAMILY WHO LIVE WITH ME (so, that’s really only Dave, me, the dogs, the cats and some fish) SAFE FROM FIRE AND EXPLOSIONS AND HARM AND DANGER WHILE I MAKE AN ATTEMPT TO ACT DOMESTIC AND COOK MY MAN DINNER!

I’m really scared. I’m scared for my face that could suffer grease splatters from the frying pan. I’m scared that I might accidentally poison us with salmonella. I’m scared that the chicken won’t be edible. I’m scared that my hair might get singed from grease splatters…I’m scared for my finger tips and forearms, too, and for my eyes.

*sigh* When I make up my mind to do something, folks, I do it, I dive all the way in; so, not only am I cooking chicken in a frying pan for the first time ever, I am also, for the first time ever, going to chop an onion…and sauté it…or whatever the heck it is you do to an onion…the thought brings tears to my eyes! *sniff, sniff*

So, please, wish me luck…and wish for me, I beg of you, that 9-1-1 need not be dialed and that fire trucks, battalion chiefs and ambulances do not end up at my house. I’d really, really like that not to happen. In fact, it would pretty much make my night if that didn’t happen! I don’t really care if we get sick and vomit from the chicken, because, well, you’ve read my blog, vomiting is not something foreign to me… and it couldn’t hurt Dave to vomit a little more, either! JUST KIDDING!

I pray my computer is not a burnt pile of rubble tomorrow and that I may share with you my experience of cooking chicken in a frying pan because, trust me, it will be an experience…cooking with Missy always is.

A Few Updates

So, if you’ve been following along, then you know a few things about me. First, you know that I went into a frenzy, a full out anxiety attack, when I went to the store to buy more deodorant and found that my store…yes, MY STORE, was out of MY DEODORANT! Instead of being able to just grab my handy-dandy, fail safe, keep me smelling fresh, deodorant, I was faced with 69 different choices! OH THE PRESSURE!

I am happy to announce, that after careful thought and consideration, I chose Secret’s Crystal Clear Cherry Mischief deodorant.

Cherry Mischief! Ooolaalaa!

It’s wonderful, marvelous and the scent is not so strong that I smell like a cherry orchard. It’s just right!

Phew! Crisis averted.

Dave profusely thanked me because, when I ran out of deodorant, I simply wore his; so, I smelled like a dude for a while. That caused quite a bit of confusion in our marriage. We’re back on track, though!



The second thing you know about me, if you’ve read along, is that my dogs (there are three of them) do not listen to me. Instead, they walk all over me. When I say sit, they jump. When I tell them to get off the couch, they lie down on the couch. When I tell them wrong, they ignore me. I get no respect! No respect!

Mostly, Angel is the culprit.

Yes, that little girl with that angelic face.

She has a licking problem. When we got her, the man at the shelter said she comes with free baths. I thought that was great! We get a dog from a shelter and they’re going to bathe her stinky doggy body…SCORE!

I was greatly mistaken, for what this gentleman was referring to was that Angel was the bather.

Angel licks everything…everything…and she doesn’t stop…she’s obsessed with the licking and the worst part is…no…I can’t say it…

Oh the shame…the worst part, her tongue is like a bullet, it moves so fast that every now and then…every now and then…*cringe*…her stupid tongue ends up licking my mouth…the inside of my mouth! OH FOR SHAME!

I KNOW, GROSS! SO GROSS! Not to mention the acne her licking causes! Oh, the acne! SOB.

If you are in close proximity to Angel and look at her, just barely glance in her direction her head will dart towards you like a torpedo racing towards an enemy ship and that tongue of hers (she has a Gene Simmons tongue) will dart out and try to bathe your face.

This is Angel. Eyeing me suspiciously. Seeing if the can make it in for the kill.

The more I shout and holler, “WRONG,” the more she tries to lick.

Well, my lovely husband, after watching me go through this for years, finally let me in on a little secret last weekend.

Dave does this thing with the dogs where points his index finger at them with his thumb raised; so, it looks likes he’s pointing a finger gun at them. They become transfixed when he does this, keeping their eyes on him. Out of nowhere, Dave will unexpectedly yell, “BANG,” at the top of his lungs! The dogs hate it. I hate it.

So, last weekend, when I was down on the floor trying to play with my traitor dogs who love Dave the finger-gun bang-man more than me, Angel, tried to overpower me and lick me to her hearts content.

I yell wrong.

I flick her nose.

I grab her snout and engage in an all out stare contest with the defiant child…er dog.

Then, Dave simply says, “Dude, all you have to do is make a gun with your hand and point it at her. That makes her stop. She hates that.”

I made an enlightened Tim-the-Tool-Man-Taylor, “ArrOoo,” grunt and immediately tried this gypsy magic out for myself.

Angel began circling me like a shark circles its prey. She went in for the kill. I rose up my gun shaped fingers, pointed them straight at her face and she…stopped dead in her tracks!

The vixen won't even look my way when the gun-fingers are pointed at her!

Whaaa-haaa-haaa!

Whaaa-haaa-haaa!

Victory is MINE!

Let me tell you, there is nothing more fun, nothing, than pointing out of the blue finger-guns at your dog, thus making them stop, dead in their tracks and look at you ever so apologetically. It’s a dirty job, folks, but, somebody’s got to do it!

There’s a traitor amongst us.


And, his name's Duke.

Yes, HIM!










I feed him.







I sneak and let him come up on the sofa to cuddle.






I get on the dirty ground and play with him.
















I put up with him sticking his tongue out at me.



















I give him treats.







Did I mention that I feed him?







And, this, THIS is what I get in return:

When Dave vacates the premises Duke, the traitor, glues his nose to the front door, where he stays, motionless, staring.

Eventually, he does tire and he will lay down and look pitifully my way.

He puts on quite a show, intermittently whining and whimpering. He's even started howling, HOWLING, for his long lost owner.

It's quite gross, actually... makes me lose my appetite it's so disgusting. The traitor!

To make the situation even worse Angel, my little Angel. Sweet, loving, sensitive Angel...

...joins him, Duke, the traitor!

There's two traitors amongst us!

Thank goodness for this little guy, he never leaves my side!

It's a doggy dog world out there, folks. It doesn't matter what you do, how many treats you give, how much sustenance you supply, they'll always long after one of their own! HAHAHA!!!!!

A Lil' Thing

It's always good to have a positive outlook.

When my Mom and I were living as two single gals in California, money, in the beginning, was a liitle bit of a concern for my Mom. Lucky for me she decided against working the streets and instead decided to go back to school! KIDDING, ONLY KIDDING, FOLKS! ((SORRY, MOM))

Anyway, I remember one beautiful sunny California day. The sky was the epitome of a blue sky and the green from the tall, tall California trees pressed perfectly against the cloudless sky. Mom was surmissing that we might have to sell some of the beautiful China that she had aquired when we lived overseas.

I told her, in my middle school wisdom: MOM, we may not be rich; but, we can at least look like we're rich!

To that, my Mom lauged.

Mission accomplished.

In Honor of the Weekend, A Party Story

I'm sorry to do this to you; but, I must tell this story. It involves vomit.

Believe it or not, I was a 'good girl' all through high school. I didn't really 'party', except with my girlfriends (and they were very harmless, girlie parties that involved chick-flicks and midnight Taco Bell runs ((OH FOR SHAME, I know!)), I didn't smoke, drink (and by that, I mean alcohol) and I didn't do drugs. I had 'dorky girlfriend fun', which, which I thoroughly loved.

When I graduated from high school, I went to my town's community college and the group that I often blog about kind of started becoming 'the group'.

One evening we were hanging out at my girlfriend's house, and I think it better that I not name any names, just in case... There were a few of our platonic boy-friends and two of my girlfriends there. My friend's parents were not home, they had a dinner date and I don't know what made us decide to do this; but, we decided to spread our wings and try some liqueur.

We virgin drinkers took a few shots. They tasted horrible! We wondered what all the alcohol hype was about. Then, the buzz started kicking in. We decided to do another shot or two. Then, we decided that doing things like riding her parents stationary exercise bike was the most fun we'd ever had. We sat on the couch and laughed giddy laughs, the room had never been so funny before. We were having a grand time until...

We heard the garage door opening. Her parents were home early!

The counter-tops were littered with alcohol bottles.

The boys darted to the kitchen along with my friend who lived there to try and rid the counter-tops of the clutter that we had created...the clutter of bottles that could land us in a world of hurt.

They were unsuccessful. When my friend's parents walked into the house, the bottles were still on the counters.

UH OH. Even in my shnockered state I knew this wasn't good. I sat on the couch, with my back to the whole scene, hoping that I wouldn't have to speak or interact with the 'rents.

The parents were scary calm. Like a calm before a storm. The kind of calm where you know you're in deep, deep trouble. Our poor friend. We got to leave. She had to stay.


On the ride home I was in a big, bumpy, stick- shift truck, the kind of truck that doesn't have a back seat. I was shnockered, sitting up front, stuffed in the middle, sandwiched between my two designated driver platonic boy friends.

The car ride to my friend's house was long. The world around me started spinning. I started to get very warm. I wasn't having fun anymore. When we dropped my girlfriend off at her house I told my designated drivers that I didn't feel good. I looked at my girlfriend's front yard. The lawn looked so inviting. So comfortable. So green. So flat. I wanted to get out of that truck and lie on that lawn so bad! I understand how drunk people end up passed out on lawns! I told the guys that I needed to get out and lay down. They refused, we were right around the corner from my house and they probably figured I would try and run from them...I used to like to run, wild and free when I drank... what can I say...I've always liked running!

I begged and pleaded, I tried to tell them that I wasn't feeling well. I started to get dizzy again. That's when it hit me, a sudden wave of warmth overcame my body, an instantaneous hot flash, I knew I was about to throw up. I was in the middle seat of my friend's truck, sandwiched between the boys. I didn't know what to do. I didnt' know where to throw up. I had enough sense not to puke in the boys' laps. I didn't want to puke all over my friend's dash or floor board...so, I guess I did what any polite, virgin drunk girl would do...

I looked down and sitting on my lap, wide open, was my purse...and...before I could think twice...

I threw up... in my purse...a lot.

All over my wallet.

All over my keys.

All over everything.

My purse turned into a punch bowl...only it wasn't a bowl and it wasn't punch that was in it!

I heard a lot of shuffling around me. A lot of, "holy shits," a lot of questioning, "did she just puke in her purse?" The boys clung to the edge of the truck doors like their lives depended on it, getting as far away from me as they could in the small space that a pick-up cab offers.

They responsibly decided they couldn't take me home like that. So, instead, they took me to my friend's garage where I could sit and lay my head down on a pool table. The boys pulled my hair back into a pony tail, put a jacket around me...and took off with my purse...

They went to the bathroom and began cleaning it out for me!

Sometimes my friend still laments about having to stick his hand into my vomit laden purse.

They rinsed it out and washed everything off for me.

Kudos to my friend, kudos.

I had survived my first experience with alcohol...an experience which will live in infamy.

Sheesh.

Gibber (just because I like the word)

· One of Dr. Oz’s 10 weight-loss commandments is that food must be chewed no less than 20 times per bite. OK, I can do that…but…how do you chew yogurt?





· My sister-in-law said that there is a wonder that a woman feels from wearing fabulous shoes. OH! That brings chills to my spine! That is a fabulous statement!


The wonder that a woman feels from wearing fabulous shoes


I am so proud of her for coming up with that!





· When will I learn, I wonder? Last night I was so proud of myself. I, Missy G, was steaming broccoli. I felt so official, so…so…chef-like and domestic…yea, it doesn’t take much! I was winging it, flying by the seat of my pants, which is a lot for a girl who needs a cookbook to make scrambled eggs! I tell no lie. So, my broccoli was steaming, or so I hoped, and I decided it needed to be tested because I didn’t know how long it took for broccoli to steam. I grabbed my handy-dandy fork, stabbed a piece of broccoli and pressed it against my lips to see how warm it was. That was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, right next to opening a bottle of red peppers with my tongue. Needless to say, I have a nice little broccoli burn on my lips…I guess the broccoli was done!





· The last two weeks the TV show, "The Biggest Loser," has brought me to tears! Can you believe it? Sheesh!

Match Made In Heaven

Friday night I treated myself to decadence. Mmmmm, decadence!


Ya see, I've lost a few pounds in the months that have passed...a feat that is not easy for me...a feat that left me very cranky the first two weeks as my body was adjusting to being starved. I tell no lie. Isn't that what you have to do to lose weight- kind of starve yourself? It sure felt like it those first two weeks!

Sheesh, I'm doing no service to encourage healthier eating, am I? But, that's the truth! Those first two weeks were not the most pleasant! It's a 'live and learn' process. Finding out what leaves you feeling satisfied and what leaves you ravenous for more!


I had no grand tricks up my sleeve, I did not try a 'fad' diet, I simply restricted the number of calories I consumed each day and low and behold...I lost weight! Wouldn't you know it, all those doctors and dietitians that we see on TV are right!

So, the payoff for those first two frightful weeks are that 1) I made it through and 2) my clothes are looser! Yea, baby!

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I stand naked in front of the mirror and think I now have the body of a supermodel. I stand naked in front of the mirror, jump up and down, and see all the fat jiggle that I still need to loose!

It's a pretty sight.

I'd invite you over... but that would just be weird.


So, back to my story: Friday, as soon as I got off work, I headed straight to a local bakery. A good bakery. A bakery that makes cakes and pies on a daily basis and serves them fresh. Oooolaaalaaa! As a treat to myself, I was going to buy a slice of Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting! It was beautiful, folks.

My plan: Have a quiet, peaceful, pleasant, relaxing Friday evening. The thought sounded exquisite. I pictured myself settling into the evening, wearing comfy clothes, cozying up on the couch, watching a chick flick, and enjoying my savory piece of decadence.

I brought out my beautiful, special dessert plate:

Placed my slice-o-Heaven on the gorgeous plate:

And, to top it off, and to feel extra special and girly, I put on Sex and the City FABULOUS shoes:

Oh yes I did!

Then, I watched Sex and the City

The living room was dimly lit with yellow lighting, the dogs were calm, I was curled up on the couch wearing PJ's and beautiful shoes while eating my cake off a beautiful plate. It was an absolutely splendid evening!

It's important to treat yourself, folks.

It's important to treat yourself and to be able to laugh at yourself. I'll tell you why later...haven't quite figured it all out yet...but the feeling...the feeling of planning and having such a lovely evening...'priceless'.

Ramblings, Butterflies and Self Discovery

On Saturday, we (‘we’ being Dave and me) had a plan, a mission. We were going to help our family work on their property for an event so big you may hear about it on the nightly news!

I’m only kidding about the nightly news.

The plan, this mission, caused me to have butterflies. So many, in fact, that I contemplated calling in sick to this ‘Family Day’!

My family is a bunch of ‘do-it-yourselfers.’ I know I’m pretty vague about my skills as a ‘do-it-yourselfer’ but, through your, the reader’s, ability to infer, I believe that you may have picked up on the little fact that Missy is not a big, nor good, do-it-yourselfer!

So, when Saturday morning came, I woke up, had an assortment of comfort foods for breakfast, put on my big girl panties, gave myself a pep-talk about how I have a brain and the ability to think and that I can do anything that comes my way, and then we were off to construction land!

As soon as we arrived I was approached by two little boys who wanted to play with me. Hmmm…playing with nephews as opposed to becoming a do-it-yourselfer…worked for me!

As I walked over to said nephews, I noticed the youngest one had something in his hand…something that started moving…something that was BIG… and green and oh my…something that was alive! It was a toad (not a frog; but, a toad, as I was informed by my 5 year old nephew!)! He was holding the largest toad that I had ever seen! I mustered up all of the adult courage I could at that very moment, squealed in a high pitch shrill, pulled my elbows to my sides, wildly flapped my hands…all to accomplish what, I don’t know! Then, I ran like a sissy on my tiptoes from the humongous toad, screaming “I’ll be a do-it-yourselfer, I’ll be a do-it-yourselfer, just don’t make me play with a toad!”

People looked at me like I was crazy…people being my 3 and 5 year old nephews. I think I lost 'cool points'.

Low and behold, being a do-it-yourselfer did not entail me painting anything that the family would forever have to look at, nor did I have to permanently affix anything to a wall and, best of all, I didn’t have to use any tools! Everything I was tasked with doing was stuff I could totally handle…like crushing soda cans that needed to be recycled…putting things into neat, orderly and clearly designated piles, and eating pizza with my nephews…without the toad…all the while getting a tan…Man, if this is what do-it-yourselfing is, bring it on!

I did discover something that day…

Do you want to know what it is?

That I discovered?

I discovered that, Dave, in our relationship, is the do-it-yourselfer. He’s the muscle, he’s the brawns…he even has the shirt to prove it! His shirt reads:

“DAVE: The Man, The Myth, The Legend”

That’s right folks.

I, on the other hand, and this is what I discovered on Saturday, in addition to being the psychology gal, am also the technology gal. Whenever this family has an iPod problem; they dial 1-800-MISSY! So, really, I may not know how the heck to operate a ‘Bobcat,’ I may have even thought that when they were talking about bobcats all day they were referring to the animal and not to the piece of machinery that was driving around the property; but, by God, when it comes to iPods, I am your wo-man, I will make sure you have music, even if it takes me hours to do it!


I had a fun day; I played with my nephews, without the toad, and the butterflies that I experienced earlier were so not warranted and quickly subsided once I realized I was being tasked with jobs I could totally handle, which is a good thing, because butterflies, AKA: a nervous stomach, causes…well, we all know what nervous stomach’s cause…

What? You don’t know what nervous stomach’s cause?

Let’s just say it can lead to toilets overflowing...

Last weekend I found myself in a querulous situation that left me perplexed and angry and questioning humanity!

Dave and I went to see a movie. The theater was packed! Before the movie and during the previews, while people were still finding their way to their seats, my seat kept getting kicked and bumped. No big deal, I thought; it will calm down once the movie starts.

But it didn’t, it got worse!

These weren’t just little kicks and bumps, either. It was as if there was a soccer player sitting behind me trying to score the winning shot, kicking the ball as hard as he could to get it past the goalie. Only there was no goalie and there was no soccer field but apparently, my seat was still the ball.

A quarter of the way through the movie, after my seat and I had been jolted extremely hard, I abruptly sat up, leaned forward and tried to turn around and make eye contact with the bum sitting behind me. Only, I couldn’t turn around! This was the day the box fell on my head and no joke, I could not fully turn my head from side to side!


*Side Note* I felt pitiful when that stupid box fell on my head! I walked from the garage to the family room to tell Dave what had just happened… and to get some sympathy. Of course, the situation slightly amused him; and, of course the situation slightly frustrated me! First of all, when the box fell on my head, I sardonically thought that of course something like this would happen to Missy…Ha, ha, ha, I thought; very funny. I also thought that now I had a story to blog! (I know, I’m sick.) But, when Dave was slightly amused, I lost composure!

(For the most part, I find my Missyisms funny; it’s important, very important, to be able to laugh at yourself. Don’t ask my why, though…I’m still trying to figure out that part. This Missyism, was not yet funny to me, yet. All I felt was pity! Every now and then, I don’t find my Missyisms funny!)

So, I exclaimed to Dave:
“I know! Ha, ha, ha! Silly, clumsy Missy! These things always happen to her!” And, like any mature adult, I stomped out of the room!

I often think it funny, in an odd, ironic sort of way, that when growing up, children have this idea of what an ‘adult’ is. Then, when we grow up, we learn that adults can be more childish than children!

OK, sorry, back to my story.


So, when I abruptly sat up, leaned forward and tried to turn around to look at my assailant face to face, I realized that I couldn’t turn my head enough to see the perp. Hoping that my body language would be a clue for the goon to quit kicking my seat, I turned back around and tried to get settled.

No sooner had I turned back around that an annoying little foot began kicking my chair incessantly.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tapt-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

For about a minute straight.

I didn’t know what to do! I froze! I sat there, stared straight ahead and thought, “Great, now have I done!” I contemplated telling Dave because I knew he would turn around and say something. I decided against that because I didn’t want there to be a scene. Then, I contemplated telling move theater employees, but I wondered if they could do anything. Lastly, I contemplated what type of individual messes with a stranger at a movie, who finds pleasure in that. No one I want to know, that’s for sure.

After about a minute, the ‘tap-tap-tapping’ stopped. For the rest of the movie my seat just got kicked intermittently. I should not have let it, but it ruined the movie for me. I was so distracted thinking about what kind of idiot does that to people. I wondered if this was a joke and if I knew the people. I wondered if my seat would get kicked every time I moved. Being the scaredy cat that I am, I also wondered if they were gang members who were going to beat me up later! That’s another reason I didn’t tell Dave…I didn’t want us to get shot or stabbed! (I know, I’m sick.)

When the movie ended, I saw the scrawny punks who were sitting behind me…teenage boys!

Why are teenage boys so stupid?

Lesson learned: The next time that happens, I AM going to turn around, even if I have to stand up, and request that my seat stops getting kicked!

I am also going to make sure that I have my pepper spray so if they are big, bad, gang members, I can spray ‘em and have a running chance!

I Didn't Know 'Bastard' was A Bad Word!

Ah, the lessons we learn in child-hood, the priceless lessons we learn, that stick with us forever. Growing up is such a joy, isn't it? It never sucks, ya never have to learn anything the hard way...it's a breeze...NOT!

One Christmas morning, in a land far, far away…I’m just kidding, one Christmas morning, when I was in middle school, all of the children on the block got massive, awesome, super-soaker water guns. Mine was ultra cool! My super-soaker was attached to a backpack that included two containers filled with water. I would never have to stop in the middle of a water war to refill my gun; it was a match made in Heaven!

As soon as the kids on the block were done opening their presents, they congregated and engaged in a huge massive water gun fight.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Kids tease each other; they jest, joke and banter back and forth. One boy, I guess, in my 12 year old humble opinion, took it a little too far. I know that I am the epitome of cool, calm and collected, I never get upset or riled up; so this may shock you, it may just send you right over the edge; but, have to tell you, I lost my cool with this boy! I wish I could remember what that boy did to me; but, as sure as I am that planes fly in the sky, I am sure that it must have been something heinous and awful, like, maybe he snuck up behind and put ice cubes down my shirt, or maybe he stole my new water gun. The jerk! So, at the top of my lungs, I screamed at this boy, “YOOOOOOUUUUUU BASTARD!”

OH FOR SHAME!

We lived in tropical Hawaii at the time, where the temp is always warm…and where everyone, including my parents, kept their windows open…all the time.

As soon as the insult left my lips I heard, “MELISSA ANN SHAW GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

No child, NO CHILD, likes to hear all three of their names called! Fear, dread, tummy knots and butterflies immediately replaced my anger.

What had I done, what was wrong, I wondered? I figured that our cat, Dottie, messed up Christmas dinner somehow and that I was needed to help repair the damage…cause my 12 year old culinary skills were far superior to anyone else in the house.

Stop rolling your eyes please, a girl can dream!

When I got to the house I realized that I was the one in BIG trouble, not my cat. Uh-oh. I hated being in trouble! I was reamed for shouting profanities, at the top of my lungs, on none other than Christmas day! “I didn’t know ‘bastard’ was a bad word,” was my only pitiable defense.

I had to get on my bike and ride all over Hickam Air Force Base until I found the victim of my tongue lashing and apologize.

The victim thought this was all too funny.

I think some kids have tougher skins than adults.

And, I now know that ‘bastard’ is a bad word.

Priceless lessons, I tell ya, priceless!

Weekend-In-Review

1. On Saturday, a heavy, heavy box fell on my head…I feel like I have whiplash. That’s what I get for trying to organize. Sheesh.

2. I must print a retraction. In my story, “Alas, A Tween Missyism,” I wrote that my mom said something, “in her high pitch shrill.” I did not do justice in describing the situation. My mom does not have a “high pitch shrill.” On that fateful New Year’s Eve Day in what seems like a million years ago, my Mom, astonished by my lack of action, merely exclaimed that I get a towel and clean up the mess. The way I described the situation made it sound like my mom flew off the handle…that was actually not the case…she was more flabbergasted (and slightly amused) that I did not clean up the mess and instead, painted my nails.

3. My mom has no recollection of the above event...at all! That is too funny!

4. I am not going to make it a habit of printing retractions. I do it for my mom, who I hold in the highest of esteem...and in lieu of Mother's Day!

4. One of the best things that happened to me this weekend: these new Sex-and-the-City-FABULOUS shoes…that were 80% off the retail price! Oh Yea!

5. Irony (or luck): The result of me attempting to organize this weekend was that I found my two ice/heating pads (they can be put in the freezer or in the micorwave); so, while I gave myself whiplash by letting a box fall on my head...I was also able to give myself relief!

Could you please wipe that look of horror off your face! :0

Yes, we've now lived in the house for 8 months.

Yes, I'm still unpacking boxes!

It gets even better, though...

...some of the boxes that I unpacked...were boxes from when I lived in my apartment...

...boxes that never got unpacked at my last house, the duplex! (Boxes that have been pakced for 5 years!)

OH FOR SHAME! :0

I wonder what other treasures I'll find???!!! Getting whiplash sure isn't giving me any incentive to find out!

Random Things I Think About

Do you ever think about things like this? I do…a lot…when I’m driving by myself or when I’m in the shower…

- Someone, somewhere in this world, is going to fall in love today. A good love. A love deserved. A passionate love. A great love.

- Today is someone’s wedding day.


- Someone, somewhere, will have the time of their life tonight.


- Someone, somewhere, is going to get proposed to today.


It’s easy to take these thoughts and turn them into sad thoughts because as many great things occur to people, not so great things will also occur to people; the nightly news reminds us of that. I try not to think about those thoughts…but, the thoughts above, I find so intriguing! It reminds me that there are events occurring in other people’s lives that are bigger than me. Does that make sense? We get so wrapped up in our lives, our world, but we’re really just such a small piece of the equation…there’s just as much going on in other people’s lives, people we don’t even know (people we’ll never know), great things. I think it’s neat to think about that.

All of us have had some great times- our epic nights, our great events…things we wish we could go back and do over and over again. It’s exciting to think that those things are happening to other people right now, as I’m sitting here, by myself, on a Friday night, not out partying, just having some quiet time, writing for your reading pleasure (and writing for my pleasure) that while I am doing this, something incredible, exciting, exhilarating, is happening in someone else’s life right now.

That’s pretty cool.

Billion Dollar Idea!

I went to the store last night because I needed more deodorant. (You’re welcome.) The store did not have the deodorant that I typically use; so, I was presented with the daunting task of, you guessed it, picking out a new deodorant! Did you know there are at least 50 different kinds of deodorants?! Different scents, different roll-on capabilities; some are solid, some are gel. They all promise to roll-on invisible, too; but, c’mon, how many times have you seen someone wearing one of the “roll on invisible deodorants” with a bunch of white flakes in their armpits! Or, how many times have you smelled someone’s body odor? Obviously, they weren’t wearing a strong enough deodorant. On the flip side, how many times have smelled nothing BUT someone’s deodorant?!

See, it’s a daunting task. Will this one REALLY roll on invisible? Will that one smell TOO strong? Will this one DO the job? And then, all of the commercials jingles start running through my head , “Sure...Unsure!”

It’s a daunting task, picking out a new deodorant when you’re perfectly happy with the one you typically use.

This made me think: I wonder what type of deodorant Joann uses? I wonder what Jennifer uses? (I think it’s Dove.) Paula? Michelle? Robin? Sandra Bullock? Oprah? Hmmm… I decided it would be weird for me to call them with such a question; so, I put on my big-girl panties and made the decision all by myself…so far so good, thank you very much! But, this lead me to conclude that girls, women, teens, females, whoever, need a little hand book that gives them such guidance. The handbook could include helpful information such as whether solid deodorants really do dry invisible and if they do, name the brands. I’m serious. A whole helpful book should be written and provided to women so when they find themselves in such perilous situations they have an answer readily available…because, of course, such a book would be pocket size so it would easily fit in one’s purse.

Other topics could include; hairdryers- go cheap or buy the best; bras- which brands have straps that will slip off your shoulder and which will stay securely in place.

Maybe I should take it upon myself to write said book! Yea, right! I believe, though, that a book like that could get filled up so quickly with important tid-bits that it would sell like hot-cakes…how fast do hot-cakes sell, anyway? If you’re trying to lose weight like me, then they probably don’t sell very fast. Hmmm…

Alas, A Tween Missyism

Once upon a time, in a state far, far, away, there was a pre-teen named Missy. Missy lived in the beautiful state of Hawaii where there was no such thing as “fake-n-bake” tans, fore everyone soaked up the sun’s rays naturally. A tween in Hawaii is distracted with many important things, such as keeping finger and toe nails polished as all the outdoor rough and tumble play like climbing Plumeria trees or engaging in water fights kept feet looking pretty gnarly if not kept polished.

In Hawaii, Missy lived in ‘on-base’ housing. Anyone who has ever been exposed to military housing knows that, just like in off-base housing, things in the house can break. Luckily, up to this point in Missy’s life, she had never been exposed to a toilet that over-flows. Unluckily for Missy’s mom, up to this point in Missy’s life, she had never been exposed to toilet that overflows.

It was New Year’s Eve. Missy had an exciting night of babysitting the neighborhood kids ahead of her. It was pivotal that her fingernails got painted wacky and wild colors for this landmark occasion. Missy’s parents, and all of the other parents on the block, had an exciting night of partying ahead of them. New Year’s Eve was always a formal affair for Missy’s parents and her mom would wear dresses that resembled Vanna White. Missy, on the other hand, wore outfits that resembled Punky Brewster!

So, on this exciting New Year’s Eve day Missy found herself home alone. She wondered what to do. The floors didn’t need vaccuming. There were no friends to talk to on the phone. All of the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher…so, Missy decided to paint her fingernails! But, before doing so, Missy had to go to the bathroom. She did her business and flushed the toilet. As she was washing her hands, she looked down at the toilet that was still running. The water in the toilet was rising! “OH NO!” Missy thought! She didn’t know what to do! She jiggled the handle on the toilet. That did no good. Now, Missy started to panic, that internal panic where a knot begins to form in your stomach and you’re in denial about the catastrophe that’s about to enfold right in front of you! She jiggled the handle again, waited a few seconds, and nothing changed. Now, water began flowing over the sides of the toilet and running down to the floor. Not wanting to get wet, Missy backed out of the bathroom and stood there, staring at the toilet geyser, praying, literally praying, that the water would stop running. The entire bathroom floor was now covered in water. She didn’t know what to do. She shut the door. Missy thought that would prevent water from flowing into the hallway. She ran to get paper towels. When she got back to the bathroom, the toilet had stopped overflowing. PHEW! What a relief! But, Missy was still left with a flooded bathroom floor. She started ripping paper towels off of the role and began placing them on the floor, attempting to soak up the water. They did absolutely no good! The paper towels did not make one bit of difference. Missy shut the bathroom door. She didn’t know what else to do. “I know,” she thought, “I’ll paint my fingernails and maybe something will come to me.”

So, Missy went out to the lanai and began painting each fingernail a different color, hoping she would channel her Fairy Godmother and know how to clean up the lake in the bathroom. While Missy was concentrating hard on her nails, her mom got home. Missy told her mom what had happened and showed her the bathroom. All Missy remembers after that is her mom, who was now exasperated, scoffed, “You’ve just been sitting here, painting your nails?!” Missy, totally unaffected, explained, “I didn’t know what to do, MOM!” Her mom, thinking this is the last thing she needed to deal with before getting ready for her New Year’s Eve party, said in her high pitch shrill, “You get a towel…YOU CLEAN IT UP!”


There are days when I still feel like that little girl, staring at the lake in the bathroom, totally perplexed and not knowing what the heck to do!

Do my nails still look good, you ask?

Ah, you get it!

Of course they do!

Miscellaneous Monday

1. In order to achieve balance in life, one has to be secure, because to achieve balance means you’re letting some things go, which can cause anxiety for some…and a plethora of other emotions I am sure; so, striving to achieve balance could be a really, really difficult feat for some.

2. I was telling Dave about a TV show I saw where a married couple and the wife’s parents all lived in the same house. A TV crew came to their home along with a “life coach” to try and help the family. One of the first exercises the life coach tasked the family with was for each of the 4 adults to describe the others in just one word. Everyone was playing nice and all of the adults received adoring accolades until it was the husband’s turn! He used very pleasant words to describe his mother-in-law and father-in-law; but unfortunately, the word he used to describe his wife was ‘Nag’! Needless to say, the wife began crying and the stage was set for the life coach.

When I was done telling Dave about this and about how mean I thought the husband’s small-minded description of his wife was, Dave, after a quiet moment of thought, said, “My word for you is, ‘loving’.”

Awww

It's those surprising, out of the blue moments that can mean more than a boquet of flowers or a box chocolates.

OK, well, maybe nothing means more than chocolate; but, this came close! HA, just kiddin!

5 Things

1. When I am by myself I am content because I feel like the people in my life are a blanket that keeps me snug all of the time.
Awwww…

2. I have a horrible, no good, very bad habit. About once a year or every other year, I…I...I charge stuff to my credit card! There, I said it! Phew! I go on a spending spree! My Dad and Suze Orman would be so very, very disappointed. It would not be so bad if I didn’t have credit card debt. In my defense, I do not buy frivolous items; I buy household items, like curtains, so people can’t see me naked. In all reality, I’m doing society a favor.

3. I had a revelation the other day that I have never made a casserole!

4. Did you know that I know how to knit? You know, *sigh* knitting is the reason I feel better about myself. I can’t hem curtains, I can’t cook, I can’t sew…but, for the love of all things chocolate, I can knit! I can knit you a scarf that will help keep you warm, that will provide you comfort! What does cooking do, I ask? It provides you with short term pleasure. OK, so it’s life sustaining short-term pleasure…BIG WHOOP! I can provide YOU with long term warmth. It’s my saving grace, really.
...But, I do love to eat!

5. I met Dave for the first time at Dairy Queen. He was wearing wrangler jeans with a belt that had a huge belt buckle. Looking back, that makes me chuckle because that is so not my husband!