I'm Going with Flattered.

My friend Amy took my Slovenly post to heart.

What a gal.

What a pal.

She nominated me for What Not to Wear.

WHAT???

Well. Apparently you can go 10 years without seeing a person, and still be able to nominate them from the show.

Quite successfully.

Don't you need secret video or photos or some such folderol?

I asked her if I'm supposed to be horrified or flattered.

Since it comes with a five thousand dollar shopping spree if I'm selected, I decided to go with flattered.

However, after reviewing the photos she attached, I'm ashamed.

HORRIFIED.

She got all except one photo for her nomination from my very own blog.

Dadgummit.

Well! I decided to copy and post her email, which she forwarded to me, so that you could see the level of horrification that I now have.

Don't you love when I totally make up words? I should have said mortification. But, I think if you all join with me, horrification will totally be added to Webster's right along with defriend from facebook!

Anyhoo, here's her email:

To Whom It May Concern,

Below is a blog link about my friend Andrea - aka- Andi. Andi and I grew up together and graduated from Laverne High School, Laverne, Oklahoma in 1994. As a doting mother and fabulous nurse she neglects herself and is in dire need of some assistance. I am using her recent blog post as evidence of such circumstances.

Here is the link: http://andi-rambling.blogspot.com/2010/05/slovenly.html


I just read her post and thought, I absolutely must nominate Andi. She, like me, rarely shops and tends to wear clothes that are "hand-me ups". Her focus is her family, her job and her home all the while her waredrobe is suffering substantially.

Can you help her? Better yet, please help her. I have attached photos for visual reference. I have also attached a photo of Andi and I in our show choir uniforms, 1992.

Here is her contact information.

Removed for privacy



Age: 34



Height: 5' 9" Good guess. I'm really 5'7"



Weight: Removed for my own pride. And cause she underguessed it. Bless her heart.



Occupation: RN



Marital Status: Married



Two Children



Personality: Warm, Caring, Energetic,



Her Style: Used and noncomplementary



See her post regarding her style at: http://andi-rambling.blogspot.com/2010/05/slovenly.html





My contact information is as follows:



Removed for privacy



I am pleading, please help my friend, Andrea Rambler embrace her outer beauty so it works in harmony with the inner beauty we all know and love.



Kind Regards,



Amy


Since I've already shared them with you, I guess I'll review with you the humiliating evidence.

Let's begin with this picture. Other than the obvious problem of an angel sprouting from my head, I don't see the problem.

Unless you count that the shirt is the only thing I purchased myself.

I get lots of compliments on those shoes. I admit they look grandmotherly-ish in this photo, but I'm sure it's the photo, not the shoes. Right? Surely people wouldn't comment at all if they were awful.

Or would they?

I'm confused.

But that skirt is a classic. It is a hand me down from my grandmother. No kidding. It went from her to Dawn, then Paula, and now me. It's still in perfect condition, and it cost a fortune when it was new! So, what is wrong with it? I don't know.

I'm still confused.

Okay, now this photo is a no brainer. Those pants are a good 9 years old. They have holes and paint splatters. Half the back pocket is torn off.

But I love them.

If Clinton & Stacey try to take them, I will have to weep.

And, perhaps the smashed boob sports bra look with the tight long sleeve tee is not the best look for me.

Perhaps I will agree whole heartedly with the use of this photo in said nomination.

There. I concede total defeat on this picture.

But this photo?

Come on!

What could possibly be wrong with this picture?

Do I not look outdoorsy and ready to tackle the Grand Canyon in all it's grand-ness?

Have you heard of people dying from heat stroke in the canyon? The hat is a necessity!

It is cool on the rim, so the jacket is a necessity, and it's lightweight so I could shed it easily and stuff in my backpack for the hike!

Aaaaand, for your information, I still own and wear those shorts! From 2006!

What could possibly be wrong with any tiny part of this outfit!?

Apparently, I'm very challenged indeed, if I don't understand the problem! I'm sure to be a shoo in at this rate!

Now, if she had chosen to use this outfit, I totally would get it.

But, that was all done in the name of creativity.

And laughter.

Okay, and maybe a smidgen of shamelessness.

Please, go read this post if you've somehow missed it. I beg of you.

Click. I know you are tired of my rambliness, and want to move on, but just do it, Okay?

Thank you.

The End.

Slovenly

That's what I am.

I sit here typing this post in my hand me down shorts with the word Sooner written across the derriere (cuz I'm so classy) and a red tank top that's at least 3 years old. No make up. Hair in pony tail.

I wonder why my kids dress sloppy, in t-shirts with holes and prefer to wear cut off jeans to new shorts?

Wednesday, the big storm day, I had lots to do.

I had to take the dogs to the vet, meet with the roofer, do housework, go to the store, pay bills, chat with my mother in law, who is still cooped up in the hospital most of the time with my father in law. (He's improving, but I know she enjoys a new face to chat with. At least that's what I tell myself as I talk her ear off.) And, Studmuffin asked me to mow the lawn.

Did you know I literally broke into the "Hallelujah Chorus" when it started raining around 8:30 am?

And, I had to be at an awards assembly at 1:30.

In all my plans for the day, I paid no attention to what Popcorn put on.

I was slightly dismayed to see her in cut offs and an old school t shirt with her hair in a messy pony tail. I told myself it didn't matter. She's in second grade. She just wants to be comfy and have fun...

Because, clearly, you can't look cute and be comfy and have fun.

Please do not disabuse me of my notions.

Then, I noticed all the kids around her in obviously spanking new outfits. I was sitting between two "have it all together" mom's from church. They both talked about how they pick out all of their kids clothes.

Confession: I haven't dressed my kids since they were about three.

I wish I could say I was lying.

But I'm not.

Then, April decided to take pictures of DeDe and I, since her flash was giving her trouble.

It was at this exact moment that I realized something.

In all of my scrambling to scratch everything off of my to do list, I hadn't showered. I had on not one scrap of makeup. My hair was in a messy unwashed pony tail. I just noticed dog hair all over my shirt. I was wearing a tank top and shorts that my sister Dawn bullied me into buying the summer we moved into this house. That would be the summer of 2008. The tank top is egg plant purple. I think I got it from Walmart. The shorts are navy blue from American Eagle, and we had went to buy my nieces clothes. Dawn made me try some on, and I left with two pairs of shorts.

I have not bought any shorts since.

However, I have gotten two "new" pairs of shorts as hand me ups from my niece Sarah.

The question for you, Gentle Reader is this: Why are my children such sloppy dressers?

And, yet another question of perhaps higher importance is this: How does one get on the show "What Not to Wear?"

And, can my fragile ego withstand the humiliation of a nomination and acceptance to the show?

How to Prepare for a Tornado

Guess what? When you live in Oklahoma, and you go to your child's awards assembly, the principal begins the assembly with an overview on the plan for a tornado...

Which would NOT be a drill!

Of course, the storm did not come during the drill.

All day on Wednesday, the news was warning everyone to have their "disaster plan" in place for a tornado. The storm was predicted to begin around 3pm. I thought I'd share my disaster plan with you...

Clean the whole house. Wednesday is my only free day, and if we don't have a big storm that comes and blows the whole house away, the mess will still be there.

Do 6 loads of laundry, including my mother-in-law's. Please pray for my father in law. He's been in the hospital since May 10th. I got a kick out of her coming by and dropping off laundry, showering and grabbing a quick nap before returning to her bedside vigil. Read here: bossing Tom around and doing all of the nurses work for him. Her dropping off laundry is kind of like everything coming full circle.

Shower around 3pm. The storms a comin' and who knows when I might get another chance!

Cook dinner. Try to be relaxed and happy as they forecast a very dangerous storm north of us and another that is "organizing" southeast of us, heading northwest... Try to be subtle in hustling your family through the meal.

Check out the radar. The storm is 30 minutes away.

Have the girls take a quick shower. No sense in them sitting staring at the TV, making themselves sick.

Start cleaning the kitchen...The phone rang.

We are subscirbed to our local emergency preparedness system, and they call with alerts...Studmuffin announces "We're under Tornado warning."

I freak out and go to hustle the kids out of their showers...Only to discover they decided to shower together for some weird reason... They hate showering together, and typically refuse to do it. Start screaming like a banshee to hurry up and get the shampoo out of their hair and get out of the shower.

Have a battle of wills with Popcorn on how fast she is going to hurry, and resist the urge to snatch her by the hair and drag her under the shower spray and out of the tub...I resisted the urge.

But barely.

When that child buckles down, it is a terrible thing to behold...

Gather bicycle helmets, flashlights, blankets, jackets, and make sure they're all in the bathroom, our "safe room."

Studmuffin then says, "Calm down! What's your big deal? The storm is still 15 minutes away. Do you want to go the community shelter?"

WHAAAT?!!!

"I thought you said 'tornado warning' when you answered the phone!"

"Oh. Sorry. That was just telling us about one south of us, and that it's headed this way."

Grrrrr...

So.

I calmed down.

And watched the news. The storm was going to go south of us.

I decided to go do what any good Okie does in the event of severe weather.

I went and stood on my front porch and stared at the sky.



Earlier in the day Popcorn had said, "I hope God surrounds our house with a thousand rainbows to protect us from the tornadoes!"

Then she burst out laughing because she had meant to say angels, but apparently, rainbows are pretty good too!

Playing Dress Up

The girls had a piano recital on Thursday. I was confused and thought it started 30 minutes earlier than it did.

Typical of me.

Well, since we had a few minutes to spare, and since I had actually came out with a cute outfit for myself, we had a photo shoot...

Sure, I could have used that time to pick up the house for 30 minutes, but where's the fun in that?

So, here's my ensemble.

Skirt: Off of the clearance rack 3 years ago from Kohl's. I had seen it in the spring and wasn't sure I liked it...So, when it went on clearance, I thought it was worth the purchase since I was still thinking about it.

Shirt: I bought it to layer under my scrubs at work. Turns out, it matches the skirt! At least, I think it matches. Please don't disillusion me. Thank you.

Shoes: White pumps that I bought for Easter.

Now, here's the real kicker. See that necklace? And that ring on my right index finger? Well, my mom was planning on getting rid of that jewelry from Avon. I used to wear it for dress up as a kid. The ring is even adjustable! Anyway, I nabbed them to let my girls use for dress up.
Of course, in typical mooch fashion, I nabbed them to wear for myself!

And... perhaps, I stuck my chest out a little far in this photo. Please understand there's nothing there but padded bra, so I'm not really sure what I was sticking out there!

Oh, and does it not bring back the whole bend and SNAP issue all over again?

P.S. I think I needed a camisole.

Crud. I wore that shirt to church today.

I am an idiot.

Prayer

I had an interesting event at work today...

We have a new nurse who is orienting to our department. She is a beautiful woman both inside and out. She teaches 5th grade Sunday school, has two beautiful boys, is an amazing nurse.....

And she told me that she wishes she had the courage to pray in front of any doctor the way I do...

I was taken aback.

It's been a long time since I worried what others would think about me stopping to pray with a patient.

But I wasn't always so bold.

It kind of started gradually, and I think God had a progression of lessons to teach me about praying with patients, which then extended to family members, and has now reached the point that I will pray for anyone, at any time.

Before we start our procedures, I pray with my patients. If I'm called to a department to start an IV for certain tests, I offer prayer to help ease their minds as they await results. If I'm walking through the CT holding area, and I find a woman in a neck brace, on a back board, weeping and crying because she has to pee so bad she is miserable, I pray with her after I call her nurse in the ER and ask if she can get an order for a catheter to relieve this woman's pain...

The point is, I feel no fear offering prayer.

I have to say that this journey to boldness in prayer began with one defining moment.

Isn't that weird? Something as simple as making prayer with my patients as routine as starting an IV, has a defining moment...

We were still living in Arlington, TX. I had a two year old and a three year old at home at the time. A woman in my Bible study group decided she was being called by God to teach, specifically in the public school.

I remember the conversation so clearly. She was calling me to offer me hand-me-downs from her daughter (yes, indeed, I've always loved hand-me-downs). She was sharing her story with me about her desire to become a teacher, and she said to me, "I know you really don't understand this, because you just have a job."

I was confused by this statement. She then elaborated. "You know, you just go to work as a nurse to do a job. You don't feel called by God to be a nurse."

WOW!!

That was a pretty harsh statement, but I have to say this lady had never pulled any punches with anyone, so I guess she was just stating facts as she saw them.

And that was truly a sad thing.

I was obviously not pursuing my career as a nurse with all of my heart, soul, mind and strength. I was obviously not doing all things in my job as I was doing it for the Lord. I was obviously not sharing the joy that I had received from my Savior at work.

She did not work with me. She had never even been in my hospital. However, her observations of my attitude towards work (I had trophy wife fantasies even then) had left her with the impression that I did not have a calling to be a nurse.

Therefore, I could never understand the passion she felt for becoming a teacher.

OUCH.

I can never remember a time when I didn't know I was going to pursue a career in health care. That being the case, and the ease with which I fell into the roll of nurse, I knew that I knew that I KNEW that God had called me to be a nurse.

I was simply failing to fulfill my calling.

Oh, I was going to work.

I was doing my job. I was doing it well.

But, I was not doing it with the mindset of being the hands and feet of Jesus.

That conversation transformed my patient care. It began with carrying note cards in my pocket with scriptures of encouragement. It turned into me saying a silent prayer as I bathed bedfast patients, and changed adult diapers...

This led to me hugging my patients, and their families. Kissing foreheads. Squeezing hands. Grabbing an extra blanket for their bed and folding it neatly within reach should they need it...

It slid into me becoming vigilant for opportunities to pray with anxious patients.

It led to joy.

Now I receive immeasurable blessing through my service of patients and families.

But, the boldness to offer a prayer to any person who walks through my door did not come over night. It has been a process six years in the making.

And it all began with a brutally honest conversation with a woman I only casually knew.

I'm so thankful God softened my heart to hear what He was saying to me through her.

In closing, I will share with you my life verse. I started carrying this verse after I had my youngest child, and I was working nights and days both, whatever I had to do to not put my kids in child care. I was living on coffee, and running on fumes, and I was struggling to show Christ to others at work.

Forget that.

I was struggling to do more than provide basic care to patients...

God gave me this verse, and I still carry it with me, and pull it out to remind myself how I am to be.

Philippians 2:14-16a
Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life.

That's it. Don't argue. Don't complain.

Just hold out the word of LIFE.

Don't Get Your Panties in a Wad!

Disclaimer: This is not my story at all. It is a story recounted by my sister's sister-in-law years ago, like when I was in junior high.

But, it was so hilarious, I remembered it, and now I will share it with you.

And, I will hog all of the glory!!

Bwahahaha!!!


We will call our heroine Crystal.

Because that is her name.

And, I'm sure she is totally okay with me stealing her stories from 20 years ago and recounting them to the entire blogosphere.

Or 5 whole people that may read this...

But, just in case you're wondering, I'm again debating the whole heroin/heroine spelling. I'm pretty sure I picked the right one, but who can be bothered to actually look these things up?

Certainly not me!

Crystal had taken a shower and was ready for bed...She got an invite for a late night trip for ice cream.

She was in college.

She was footloose and fancy free.

Of course she went for the ice cream!!!

Then, she came home and went to bed.

*Isn't this the most hysterical story you've ever read? I know you are totally clenching your cheeks in excitement!*

Anyhoo, the next morning she got up and went to class.

Where she noticed something balled up in her pant leg.

She reached down and pulled it out.

IT WAS HER PANTIES!!!

In a moment of horror and mortification, she dropped the panties and kicked them away from her.

Soon, the person she kicked them to noticed the panties under her desk, and kicked them away...

Then the NEXT person noticed the panties and kicked them away...

And, in my memory, this little drama played out for the entire class.

At least, that's how my memory remembers her story.

Aint'cha glad I totally just pirated that story for my own uses?

Yeah. Me too.

Mother's Day Conversations

*AHEM!!!*

This post is going to start with a serious case of bragging. Because, clearly, I am a hard worker, and you should all feel slovenly in comparison. So pay attention, people!

On Saturday, the day before Mother's Day I did the following tasks:
Washed windows.
Washed doors.Washed blinds.
Washed curtains.
Cleaned ceiling fans.
Washed every single light fixture.
Flipped mattress.
Washed all bedding.Cleaned my refrigerator. (I think we had enough penicillin in there to treat a third world country.)
Did 3 additional loads of laundry.On TOP of making monkey bread for breakfast, serving leftover hot dogs for lunch and running to Taco Mayo for dinner (where everyone requested bean and cheese burritos, and I wondered why I didn't make my own at home).


OH! And, I made a fantabulous purchase on my way from returning one of the girls' friends to her parents, and I will share that with you later.

But, returning to conversations regarding Mother's Day:

Bookworm is helping me wash the two windows flanking our front door. They are the easiest to wash, as they have no screen and can't be opened, so no yucky track or sill to clean dirt out of...

Dirks Bentley is blaring from the radio..."Gonna get a little bit siiidewaaaays..."


"So, Mom... Am I going to get paid for this?"

Me, looking slightly surprised, "Well, I guess you probably will. I hadn't really thought about it."

"I was just asking."

And she promptly disappeared to her room, where she only had to wash her own window, but she did make me a Mother's Day card...

Fast forward to 7:30. I have been cleaning since about 9am. I am running high on endorphins and bean burrito with a sense of accomplishment. I am hanging Bookworm's freshly laundered, curtains.


"Wow! My arms and shoulders are tired!"

"I bet they are! But, just think, Mom. You'll get all of this work done today so tomorrow you won't have to!"

Good to know, darling. Good. To. Know.

Next, we can consider this morning. Bookworm and Studmuffin got up bright and early and made me pancakes from scratch, with whole wheat flour (not even my recipe, and they were fabulous), fresh strawberries, and of course coffee.

Bookworm: Mom! Breakfast is ready! Only Dad & I worked on it...

And, I saw that to be true as her sister was on the couch under two blankets watching Disney Channel....


After breakfast, Popcorn addressed her primary concerns in all avenues of her life: Would she have enough time in her day to play.

"Um, Mom? Remember you don't have to do any work today..."

I look around and see the piles of blankets, sleeping bags from sleepovers and piles of unfolded laundry (I said I did them, not folded them all!) There is window screen (new rolls) on the table along with stacks of bills and papers to file or toss....

"Oh? Are YOU going to do all of the work today?"

Popcorn looks slightly distressed, "I don't know," in a voice barely audible, but with her most wheedling smile firmly in place...

"Well, do you think your daddy will do it?"

She ponders this for a minute...

She leans forward, then whispers conspiratorially, "Why don't we just pretend it's not there?"

I like this kid's style.

So, I am sitting here blogging, my children are locked in their rooms for the day after a fist fight following church (clearly my children are full of the Spirit following worship), and Studmuffin is folding clothes and watching Science channel. Next, I'm off to clean out my closet. Which may lead to cleaning out junk drawers in my kitchen (sadly, I have about five of those...hanging my head in shame here).

Because I want to.

And it will make me almost as happy as all of those things I did yesterday...

Because, sadly, not much makes me happier than a big list of all the things I've accomplished in one day.

I am a dork.

Nagging

It doesn't work.

Surely you've heard that by now...."Don't nag. It only irritates your husband."

So, being the quiet, demure and submissive wife that I am, I don't nag.

What's the point?

It doesn't work!

Nope.

Instead, I try to play helpless and frail.

Which really doesn't work either... Ya' know, the whole bossy, nursey, I-know-what's-best, assertive personality doesn't bode well for the frail, helpless deal.

Then, I try sticking my chest out and doing the whole bend and snap thing. Hey, I've even been known to offer up certain *ahem* rewards for a job well done.


Which obviously has a pretty good return on the investment.


However, there are times, when even that fails. In those times, I pull out the big guns.

I blog.

For example, did you know what I am getting for Mother's Day?

Yes, I already know.

You see, my Mother's Day gift is the gift that keeps on giving.

And giving.

And giving.

I'm getting new bathroom faucets!

I know, I can feel your jealousy pouring through my computer even as I type. Please. Restrain yourself. Covetousness is NOT appealing.



You see, he OFFERED to buy me new lawn furniture. Which I have wanted forever.

But, we still have Holly, and she will eat any new lawn furniture that we acquire. She ate a pool pump that a fence was built around, so what's to stop her from eating furniture sitting easily within jaws reach?

Plus, two out of three faucets were dripping, and we couldn't get them to stop...

So. I'm pretty sure they will be installed by the end of the day on Mother's Day.

You see, that's the beauty of this here blog. Studmuffin can't let the whole blogosphere know he didn't get my faucets installed!


Post Note: I had started this post and planned to upload pics of the boxes of faucets before Studmuffin got started. In typical, my-husband-is-the-greatest-style, he had the first installed by 8:15 this morning and was started on the second.


Drat. He totally stole my thunder.



Perhaps for Father's Day I'll get him the matching light fixtures for him to install...

The Embarrassing Squeak

A conversation from a few weeks ago...

Me: Our lawnmower has a terrible squeak when I turn it. Seriously, it is so loud, I think the neighbors hear me. It's kind of embarrassing!

Studmuffin: Hmmm...It probably needs a belt replaced.

Me: And, I found this deal on the ground. I thought it was a gas cap, but nothing is missing a gas cap that I can find.

Studmuffin: Hmmm.....I think it's off the mower.

And I blithely went about my life, confident that my knight in shining armor would make all right with my world.

Fast forward to this Wednesday.

I pulled into the driveway at about 8:30 after choir practice. Studmuffin had his shop door up, and I could see him painting on the signs he made for the girls...

Great News!!

Studmuffin did diagnose the problem with the mower.

What a man.

What a MIGHTY good man.

You will never guess what the black thing-a-ma-jiggy was.

It turns out that black doo-hickey I found was not a gas cap.

It was the thing-a-ma-bob that holds the wheels on.

You see, Studmuffin began to mow.

And the front wheel fell off.

Did I mention ours is a riding lawn mower?

Did I also happen to tell you that my do-gooder neighbor Rebel (This is sadly not his blog name. It's the only name I know him by. And, he's exactly the type of neighbor you have unfortunately mentally labeled him with) was in his yard hitting those wiffle golf ball thingies...

Don't you love my technical terms?

He just stood in his yard, whacking wiffle golf balls and watching my Studmuffin drag, push, pull our three wheeled lawn mower to the shop...

I think the curls give everyone fair warning.

Popcorn has been begging for a perm for two years. I finally decided to let her get one...

And then I found out that they start out at $55!!!

YIKES!!!

So, being the tightwad that I am, I begged my mom to do it for her.

Because that's the kind of gal I am.

Last weekend we went to see them, and while Bookworm checked cattle with my dad and rode through the cattle on her horse, my mom slaved over Popcorn's hair.

I always loved when my mom washed my hair. She was a "beauty operator" back in the day. She owned a shop by our house, and closed it after I was born. Getting a good head scrub/massage by my mom while she washes your hair is the best!

After she washed it, she decided to trim the ends. Good idea. It hadn't been trimmed in several months. The challenge to sit still began. Not an easy job for a kid who's blog name is "Popcorn" in direct comparison to her personality.

Then, we had to let the preconditioner set...

At this point, all is cool with her world.

Still feelin' cool as Grandma is still rolling her hair...

By the way, we are already over an hour into this process.

Okay. I'm obviously not feeling so cool. She is having total melt down at this point. Remember the burn of a perm?

And, no. I hadn't washed my hair in approximately to 3 days when this picture was taken.

I wish I could pretend this was out of the norm.

But it's not.

I consider washing my hair optional, and to be done a maximum of twice weekly.

True story.

Oh, and please disregard those Rustler jeans I'm wearing. They are a holdover from high school, and my mom keeps them around for when I come home. It's handy to have them there for riding horses...

Aren't those high pockets lovely? And let me assure you, even though those are men's jeans, they go ALL. THE. WAY. to my waist.

Speaking of, I think this may give you a clue as to why they called me Steve Irkle in high school.

And Peewee Herman.

And why I refuse to tuck in a shirt to this day....All legs, short waist, short torso, monkey arms.

Enough said.

At this point, the smell is so bad she can taste it.

Lucky for her my Grandma Irene came to see the excitement.

And, in typical Grandma Irene fashion, she had a stash of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and Almond Joys in her car.

Because that's the kind of grandma she is...

The chocolate helps remove the icky taste, ya know.

Plus, this meant I got to eat an Almond Joy for no apparent reason other than moral support.

That's just the kind of mom I am.

Full of support and Almond Joy.

I think the two hours worth of fidgeting/hair pulling/scalp burning was worth her suffering.

Plus, that curly wild hair gives people a peak into her personality before it explodes all over them...

You know the phrase "I got a wild hair?" Well, Popcorn lives a life of wild hair ideas.

So, I guess this hair is fair warning.

Although it is quite possible those wild hairs come from my side of the family.

And, yes, in typical Lumberjack's Wife fashion, I posted a picture of a picture. Although I did not copy this idea from her, I was already doing it when she started doing it. However, I don't want her to think I'm copying her, and not giving credit...

I think it's particularly nice that I left the caption from my scrapbook in it.

And, no, I was not helping them clean the kitchen. Someone needs to immortalize these shenanigans for all posterity on film.

Besides, I HATE taking care of leftover meat. And, as the youngest, I'm fairly adept at avoiding tasks I don't like.

Maybe Dawn hates leftover meat too.

Perhaps that's why she's holding a knife to Paula's throat.

Leftover meat can lead to desperate actions.

I Can't Find My Glasses

Beware: If you still have delusions of my ladylike mannerisms, please disregard the following post...

Oh!


You're still here!

Goody. I have a fabulous tale to tell you...

The year was 1996. Possibly 1995. I do know it was during basketball season the winter before Studmuffin and I got married. By this point in our relationship, I had developed the pattern of following him around. After the summer spent together in 1995, I was utterly unable to stay away from him. I had scrambled for scholarships and transfer of financial aid, and moved to go to school with him. Of course, he then graduated college, married me, and drug me to Texas.

Where I cried and made him promise he'd move me home to the farm "some day." I have yet to experience that "some day" but I'm not giving up hope!!!

Anyway, back to our tale. It was about 1995. I had transferred colleges to be with my honey. My car was giving me trouble, and so I opted to ride home with him for the weekend. I'm not sure exactly why we were going out of our way through the town of Woodward, but nonetheless we were...

I was apparently having some allergy issues. At least, that is my excuse.

Not that I remember ever suffering from allergies before the fall of 2008, after we moved back to Oklahoma.

But, surely. It MUST have been allergies.

Why else would have I ever exhibited such behavior?

You see, I had some serious sinus drainage. Studmuffin, being a typical man, did not have any tissues.

Not even a napkin.

Forget that... I'd have settled for a sock!

However, he had nothing to help my precarious condition. The snot was so out of control, that it went from being sniffed up my nose, to trickling onto my upper lip...

I sniffed.

I snorted.

I had the unfortunate end result of sniffling endlessly...

I had a big ole hocker, and I had no place to spit it...

No problem. I'm a farm girl. My dad did not neglect his duties as a father on the farm....I knew how to spit out the window in a desperate situation.

And I did.

After spitting the big loogy out the window, I flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror to check my hair.

Because, ya know, it would have been a travesty for my curls to be mussed after spitting it out the window...

Something looked strange.

MY GLASSES!!

"Where are my glasses?"

Studmuffin: Did you wear your glasses today?

Me: Yes.... Didn't I? I don't have my contacts in. I think I would have had a headache if I didn't have my glasses on all day.

Studmuffin: I don't remember seeing you wear them today.

Me: Huh....

And, I will spare you the details of the remainder of our conversation. We reviewed where I had been that day, and did I possibly leave them certain places, and after much deliberation, we came to the unfortunate conclusion that my glasses were now lying somewhere on the highway, shattered into a million pieces.

Well, I wasn't exactly convinced they were in a million pieces. I felt we should go back, and drive VERY slowly down the road in the approximate the vicinity that I felt the urge to spit and try and catch a glimpse of my glasses...Because perhaps the lenses might be intact. Or the frames...Any little piece that may be salvaged...

Studmuffin disagreed and refused to turn around and scavenge.

So. I lost my glasses.

And I had to tell my parents.

So, in typical Andi who can't keep a secret, and if you have something uncomfortable to say, just get it off your chest and get it over with, I told my mom the second I saw her.

At the regional basketball play offs at the high school I graduated from.

Yep. I marched up those stairs to the upper section where my parents were sitting with their friends, plopped down next to my mom, and spilled the entire woeful tale...

Did I remind you that my mom is severely hearing impaired? You know it was not possible to share my humiliation with her in a quiet, subdued voice. No. I had to speak in a clear, firm voice so she could hear me properly.

Because, clearly. There was never going to be a better time than in a gym packed with literally thousands of people, with all of the people I've grown up with sitting around me, to hear my sad story.

But, it was off my chest. And I felt better.

If slightly humiliated.