Saturday, June 26, 2010

Flat Iron Suprise

I was getting ready for a friends birthday dinner yesterday. I decided to try something new with my hair. I've seen lots of women do really cute curls in their hair with a flat iron--I've even done it on my kids so I thought it would be easy enough to do myself. Things were going well too until I saw the back and decided I did NOT want to be Shirley Temple today. I'm a little old for that.
No worries. I will just fluff them a bit to loosen them up.

I guess Shirley Temple Curls don't fluff. They frizz. Time was getting away. I was getting dangerously closer to the running late mark. I hate that.

No worries. I will just flat iron the frizz so it's flat.

I guess frizzies don't flat iron so they're flat. They just frizz flatter. I had two options. Hope nobody notices my frizz hair or call in some reinforcements.

I called my neighbor Teah. Her hair is always cute so I knew she could help. I hung up twice before getting up the courage to call her for real. Doing your own hair is just something women are supposed to know on their own, so admitting that the only reason your hair looks the same every single day is not because you love it that way, but instead because you don't have a clue what else to do with it takes you one notch down on the "Real Woman" ladder.

Ugh. I hate being one notch down on the real woman ladder. She came over though and fixed it much cuter than I have ever done myself. I was now past the I'm running late mark and I still needed to finish getting dressed. I headed my kids out to the car 20 minutes before I was supposed to suprise someone who was 40 minutes away.

I wasn't a very good suprise. Once in the car I told everyone to stay buckled while I unbuckled again to run inside to find my blasted keys. After 5 minutes of stomping around fruitlessly Madisen stopped listening and unbuckled because she said she could find them. I scolded her for taking up more time than was needed and she didn't listen. She just walked in looked around for about 30 seconds then found them in my closet.

I love when the kids don't listen.

I was late. Big suprise. I had to meet Hot Spark at the restaurant, who by the way, was there on time for the big suprise. I told him I thought it would be a good idea to try something new with my hair. He told me he thinks whenever I get a new idea I need to call him first and ask his opinion. I told him "but you never like my ideas." He just nodded and said "uh-huh" like I was missing something big. I sort of think that if a Man expects his woman to be on time that somehow he is violating the woman code.

And I hate violating the woman code.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Guy Code

Our ol' trusty van has apparently seen better days. We didn't pass safety inspections yesterday because our sway bar on the passenger side isn't working. Raise of hands of who even knows what a sway bar is?

I hope I'm not the only one. Pete says I violated the guy code. When Jiffy Lube man was listing the repairs we needed to bring our car up to par Pete was nodding his head like he understood everything, and probably even saw this news coming. So I turned to him and asked what the heck a sway bar is.

That's where I violated the code.

He didn't know what the heck a sway bar is either. He looked at me for a few minutes, then back at JiffyLube man before admitting he didn't know. So I asked JiffyLube man what it is. FYI it helps stabilize your car during strong winds. Hmm. Has that ever gone out on anyone elses car? I'm thinking they made that up. Anyway. Turns out you're not supposed to ask a question like that in front of another male. Pete claims I'm supposed to assume my "man" knows what that something is and that ""my Man" can take care of it.
I asked if it would have helped if I would have directed the question to JiffyLube man first so he could have answered it and Pete still could have looked cool (on top of being hot-handsome).
I guess that wouldn't have worked either. The guy code is strict. It was my job to look innocently at "My Man" maybe even with worshipping eyes while he nodded confidently at lowly JiffyLube man so that all the males in the waiting room could see that "My Man" was a M-A-N. (Puff up chest here).

Seems a little tarzan-ish to me. Also, seems a little harsh for the M-A-N who cried with me during "A Walk to Remember". But maybe this guy-code stuff is just way over my head?

Ice Cold Cuppa'

t all started about 3 weeks ago. Well really if you want to start at the beginning you could call it the day they put out the "boil order". Or maybe even farther back into my childhood. But for this story we will call it 3 weeks.

I got a craving for some ice. Seems semi normal right? It's been hot and when it's hot, ice is nice, right? I had Lovetricity stop at the gas station to get me a cuppa'. A cuppa' the little crunchy ice. You know the kind. Like sonic has. The tiny little pellets. Mmm it was good too.

Then I had him do it the next day.
And the next.

Pretty soon, I was leaving the house with all 3 kids to stop at the "Top Stop" for the dang ice. I was even making others stop there with me. Because I felt silly to stop regularly for just ice, I started buying the 44oz size cups filling it full of ice, then pouring in about a quarter full of Diet Coke. That way I could pay for a drink, but really, who needs Diet Coke when you have the cold crunch of frozen water pellets?


I know. It had surpassed my addiction for diet coke. That was my first clue there was a problem. The final straw happened soon after. I stopped after my girls swimming lesson to pick up my usual. I filled my first 44oz with ice then a touch of DC. It wasn't enough for me. I thought about the long night ahead, and how many hours I would be without my precious ice, and I did it.

I double iced it.


I've always loved crunching ice, but never needed it. At least not like this. I've been trying to figure out my problem. Maybe I am a little dehydrated? Since the stupid water boil order happened down here I have seriously cut down on my water drinking. Not because it isn't safe to drink still (because it was lifted several weeks ago) but just because I'm afraid it has permanently grossed me out. So maybe that is all it is? I need to come up with a solid reason for this because Andrew doesn't think I'm dehydrated-- just crazy.

What say you?

No Ticket Please

A day in the life! Whoa, and it's been a doozy! You know those dreams where you're in a big fat hurry to get somewhere important, (in my dreams usually to do something fantastically noble like save 100 children from enormous crocodiles, of course) but your feet move slowly and every time you think you can get out the door some new obstacle comes your way and you have to take care of that before leaving?

That was today. Only not in dream life. For reals.

I would never dream of blabbering on for an hour about something (maybe) so I won't bore you with everything, but of all the obstacles to face on your way out the door gum in your daughters long hair has to be one of the worst. I know. But thank you miracle Goo Gone for being you and transforming a sticky scissory situation into a mere gooey hurdle. And thank you Misty for blogging about it a year ago or I never would have known it existed.

So I'm on my way to my destination approx 2hrs after when I should be there. I was just cresting the home stretch when I get pulled over by a dang cop.

Dang Cop: Did you know your reg. is overdue?
Me: ah. Yep.
Dang Cop: Also, you were probably going a little to fast.
Me. sigh* Yes.
Dang Cop: Were you in a hurry?
Me: Nope. I just came from further south where the speed limit was higher, and I was in a rhythm.
Dang Cop: Okay, just give me a sec

He walks back to the car to do cop like things. When he comes back:

Dang Cop: Do you know how to get out of a ticket?
Me: *eyes bright* uh. . . no?
Suddenly Dashing with Mysterious Handsome Eyes Cop: Don't lie--At least with me that always works. Most people try to tell me they didn't know their car wasn't registered, or they were speeding. I'm going to let you off with a warning this time. .
Me: Oh, thank you!!!

I Heart Cops : )

Boy was I happy the wardrobe gods planned for me to wear my cute pink shirt today!! I am too old to believe my looks in any way swayed his decision, but seriously the cute shirt coincidence is there, so think what you will. Everything was looking up Jodi!

I made it to said destination just 2 hrs and 15 minutes after appointed time! At least I made it. In superhero crocodile dreams I never end up making it. I just flop over and I end up awake on my lumpy bed sans hero medal. Nothing's more disappointing than swapping a medal for a drooly pillow.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

I'm Rubber

So we've started a budget. Dave Ramsey says it will make us rich. I now understand why so many people say budget is a four letter word.

1. F
2. U
3. N
4. !

Budgeting is super cool really rad stuff. Mostly I love seeing where all of my money goes. And goes. And goes. It's a slippery little paper. It's hard to hang on to when I see really cool stuff that I need. It's kinda like I'm rubber and cool stuff is glue, and the money bounces right off of me and sticks to the cool stuff. I can't help it. I like things. Being on a budget is kinda like when you go to the dentist and your mouth is numb, so you have to suck your dinner up through a straw. Nothin' get's through.
Not even the cute panels I need for my window. Not even my new couch. Not even Hawaii. Hawaii doesn't fit through a straw.
You know what Hot Spark thinks we should do with our money?


I know!! Ludicrous!!

But I didn't marry him for his brains people, just his cute butt. We've been on a "fun!" now for like 5 weeks. I figure we should be at our half-way point for richness. If I'm not rich in the next 5 weeks it may get crazy over here.

To speed up the process I'm starting a Get Me Rich Quick Fund. If you would like to donate just contact me and I will come by to pick up my check. If you donate, you get to be in a raffle for who gets to choose the location of my first of many vacation homes. I will even autograph a post card from said location once we're there.

Don't say I never gave you anything!

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Does YOUR Car Have a Power Box?

Sometimes my keys get away from me. It's very frustrating. They're like a pet that I have to take care of and watch constantly or they will wander away. Like I need anything more to take care of. I do have 3 kids, a hubs, a stinky dog, and my ego to take care of after all.
This morning I was in a rush to get Shea to her dance class. She has a concert coming up so it's crucial she is there on time. Guess what? I was ready to leave on time!! Point for me! You should see the delicious early morning scramble I have perfected and we're not even talking eggs here. I can actually brush my teeth, blow dry my hair, and get the boy dressed at the same time--true story. So we are all headed out to the car and I have my arms full of things for our after dance play date I've set up with several other Mom's. A few minutes later, we were still standing around the car, peering in at my cute little purse, holding my sly little keys, behind the silly little locked door.
"But, I was on time!" ( I may or may not have dropped the playdate things and stomped my foot like a 3 year old, but it's mighty depressing when you make such a herculean effort only to be thwarted by your devious keys).
Being thwarted makes me grumpy. My kids watched my face turn to a bright red while I held my breath so I wouldn't say bad words. They sort of backed away hoping to slink out of sight before mom went off. I was good. I only sad bad words under my breath.
I went door to door asking my neighbors if they happened to have the stick thingy that people use to break into car doors. It's good that it's daylight, and I wear Mom jeans or that could have seemed really suspicious coming from the new lady in town. My cute neighbor Brenda suggested calling the police because they have nothing else to do out here, and apparently her keys run away too so she's had to call them before herself. The convo went something like this
"Yes, I was hoping to have someone come and help me unlock my car doors, my keys are locked inside"
"Does your van have a power box?"
"Uh, no, I don't think so, I don't know what that is. . . so no"
"Do you have a button to push that unlocks the whole car?"
"Oh, like my keyless thingy?"
"Um. . . no. Okay, when you open your door, is there like a little button you push that unlocks every door in the van, or do you have to manually unlock each door separately?"
oh, the lady said "power locks." not power box. I just made the poor dispatch girl explain what power locks are to the idiot woman who locked her keys in the car.
"oh, yep. I have that : )"
And she sent an officer on his way to my house. While he was on his way I remembered I had gone to the park the day before and "oh wait? did I put my keys in the stroller?" sure did, so they were right there in the stroller, in the garage, outside the silly locked car. I quick called dispatch back, but I couldn't admit I found my keys outside the car so I just said "we were able to get the door open, so no need for him to come out." We meaning, me and my keyless thingy activated the power box.
After re-corraling the kids I was able to make it to Shea's dance only 45 minutes late to her hour long class. So much for getting ready on time!

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Joe Schmoe Stalker Mosquito

So, I am all happy about summer arriving and all that, but ever since the sun started shining on my house we have been stalked by an overgrown mosquito. Don't get me wrong, I like bugs just as much as the next woman, but this guy is enormous. Kinda like the size of my head, and then maybe even a little larger. I don't like him by my back door, I've told him this, but that's just the way stalker bugs are. They truly don't care about my feelings.
Every time I open my back door at night giant stalker mosquito does his best to flap his eagle wings and get right in my face. Last week, he ended up in the house. What he didn't realize is that I have a secret weapon. . . Madisen is excellent at "shooing" bugs the door. He's getting trickier though. Today it's afternoon time. That's like 7 hours before we even turn on his favorite porch light. That's why I didn't see it coming. I stepped outside without a thought and BAM! Right on my ear. He had me. I could hear him buzzing his "ha-ha's" into my ear canal. It didn't last long though. I couldn't squish this guy, not unless I wanted his gooey bug juice globbering down my face. Thankfully I have been blessed with girly reflexes and my jerky-squeal-wiggle was enough to get him to buzz off--onto my pants. This time it took a little more of the jerk, a little less wiggle, and a mad dash to the house before I lost him. I don't know what to do about this guy. It's obvious one of us has to go, and we haven't even lived in our house a year yet so I think we would lose money if we sold. So that means it has got to be him. If you've ever seen Monty Python, you would say, "obviously Jodi, a machete is the best tool for the job". But this isn't your average Joe-shmoe-mosquito.

The problem is, I haven't been able to find a bazooka on clearance.