Tag Archives: humor

Genre Breed

dog readingbookAgents, publishers, bookstores, and Amazon require authors to identify a novel’s genre. It’s not always an easy task. Wouldn’t it be great if genres were as easy to classify as dogs?  By replacing the word genre with breed writers will identify target audiences more quickly and readers will discover the reading experience they were searching for.

So today, this blog has gone to the dogs!

Sporting genre/breed: Written for retrieving, these novels are best enjoyed in hard copy because the reader will refer to them again and again, annotating in the margins, and dog-earring favorite pages. The sporting genre is perfect for pointing out fowl/foul symbols and watery archetypes


Hound: Serious literature designed for authorial technique hunting, readers will delight in sniffing out important themes and deer/dear allusions, howling their foxy literary analysis to all.

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Toy: Light and adorable novels that contain glamorous fluff or posh plots. Some have a bit of bite (BDSM) to them, while others lick you with giggles.The perfect size for your e-reader.


Herding: Novels in a series that come together, gathering characters across a range of sub plots and adventures.  Linked by themes or overarching plot, these novels are branded to build readership with each new book.


Terriers: Novels that eagerly scurry down the literary hole to expose man’s rat-like proclivities. Although their plots shed light upon varmint dogmas and critter-filled creeds, they are endearing tales that roll over for a good belly rub.


Working: Action-packed novels with a taste for adventure: Expect daring rescues, growling characters, mastiff-tastic heroism, and dog-on good sex. These novels work hard so the reader won’t have to.


Non-sporting: Bursting with energy and tale-wagging dialog, these novels are drool-worthy reads. From the elegant-clipped poodle-ish exposition to the requisite bitchy stereotype to the spirited climax, the reader can expect intelligent plotting and obedient language. Fans of non-sporting genres are loyal and devoted.


Which breed of book do YOU prefer to read or write?

(I’m saving cross-breeds for another blog.)


Related links: Readin’ & Writin’


Hubby Plants a Garden

IMG_0407  I know trouble is brewing when Hubby walks outside and stares at the backyard.

“This summer I will  grow crops and we shall feast,” he states. 

FYI: The backyard is 1/2 the size of a tennis court.

Crops?  Did he mean a garden?

“Yes, yes,” I agree, wondering if he just watched a movie about medieval times. “And I shall quit my toil as scribe to peasant apprentices to weave the cloth.”
“I’m serious!” He wanders about the yard.
“Have you ever planted a garden before?”
“It’s in the blood of my people.” Manly chest thump.
“You told me ‘your people’ descended from Spanish royalty.”
“We were great landowners.”


So what does a helpful and supportive wife do? I purchase a few gardening books—big ones—with lots of pretty color photos. Very comprehensive. The happy farmer on the book cover holds a beautiful basket brimming with organic vegetables.

The books sit on the coffee table and collect dust.

“It’s March,” I inform hubby one fine sunny day.  “When were you going to till the soil? Or for that matter, buy some top soil?”

“There’s plenty of dirt in the back yard.”

Yeah, hard-packed dirt—not soil suitable for growing vegetables.

Therein ensues an argument about the benefits of building a raised bed or digging up the rocky dirt.

garden 3Flash forward a few weeks later—raised bed garden is built and chicken wire is installed around to protect ‘crops’ from jaws of hungry 10- lb pooch.

The next step? Planting—except Hubby comes back from the store with SEEDS!

“Are you crazy?” I ask. (Actually, I believe I use a more colorful choice of words.)

Flash forward again after only a few seeds have sprouted…Hubby returns to store for plants.

“Get plants with vegetables already on them!” I shout as he drives away.

 The Harvest:
  • tomatoes ( a lot)
  • zucchini  ( a zillion)
  • 4 tiny strawberries  (we believe the dog enjoyed most of them)
  • a few wee eggplants
  • lettuce for about 3 salads
The rosemary is out of control!

The rosemary is out of control!

I veritable feast!

Hubby’s a carnivore. I really hope he doesn’t decide to raise cattle.

Note: Top photo is NOT our garden, but the backyard of my son’s grandfather-in-law. Now, he’s got CROPS!

Related Posts:Hubby goes to starbucksHubby helps in the kitchenHubby uses the car’s navigation system; Hubby goes to Costco



Click  Amazon link for novels.

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Queen of T.P.

“We’re out of toilet paper, mom!”
“There’s no more toothpaste left, honey.”
“How come we don’t have any more paper towels?”tp

Sound familiar?

One of the joys of being a Mom is that ever so gradually–over the course of many years– you inherit a few choice titles and responsibilities as well–important monikers of distinction and honor. (Can  you hear the sarcasm?)

  1. Queen of Toilet Paper: Maintains TP inventory of all bathrooms in the home.
  2. Refrigerator Czar: Responsible for incoming and outgoing food; inside cleanliness; and defender of “I’m saving that” specialty items.
  3. Empress of the Iron: Specialist in ironing clothes that family members need in 2 minutes.
  4. Pantry Princess: Stocks and organizes all canned and dried goods.
  5. Monarch of the Mall: Knows exact GPS location of every single store and closest crownparking spot.
  6. Countess of Coordination: Organizes all important events so they fall on the exact same day
  7. Maharajah of Manners: Stand in for Emily Post or Miss Manners
  8. Tyrant of the Trash: Only person capable of identifying an overflowing trash can
  9. Dinnertime Dictator: Chooses time, location, availability, and menu of meals
  10. Duchess of Don’t: Repeats time-honored maxims: “Don’t throw the ball in the house;” “Don’t forget _____:” “Don’t give me attitude:”  “I don’t think so:”

royalDo you have any special royal titles?

Related Posts: Experienced Mom lesson #1; 20 Signs you’re an Adult; Gadget Girl; Countless Club Cards; The Refrigerator Blues:

Packing Black

imagesI‘ve got a BIG problem!

I’m not a good packer. I over-pack some items. Under pack or forget others.

A long weekend? One large suitcase and a duffle. Both stuffed! Not exactly a minimalist approach to packing.

It’s just that I can’t decide what I want to wear. What will I feel like days in advance? Clothes are an emotional decision…am I feeling fierce?  Melancholy? Do I wanna blend in or stand out? Am I having a skinny day or a fat day?

Some people pack light, I pack black.

Black is safe. The color doesn’t show spots. It’s versatile. Classy. Slimming. Also boring.

But black is also a no-brainer because I have so much of it!  Belts–skinny, wide, extra wide.  Jackets and sweaters of different shapes, weights, and styles. Trousers. Jeans. Leggings.Short tops, long tops.  And shoes! Shoes. Flat for walking. Heels for dinner. Uber trendy. Conservative.  Uggs for warmth. Open toed. Patent.

Hubby pokes fun at the pile of black shoes next to the suitcase. “We’re only going for 2 days, why do you need 4 pair of shoes?”

“Go away!” I throw a shoe at him. “Before I decide to put my blow dryer in your man bag!”

After a harrowing shoe selection, I decide on the extras. A bathing suit–you never know. Flip flops for walking to the pool. A cocktail dress. A semi-fancy dress.Sweats for an early trip to the lobby for coffee. Exercise clothes–nah.

I take a sweater or two–because it’s cold in hotels. Add a a short sleeved t-shirt, a long-sleeved t-short, a tank top–I want to be prepared.

“Just pack two outfits, that’s all you need.” Hubby, having ducked the shoe,  shakes his head and points to the growing pile of clothes.

“Oh, easy for you to say.You don’t care what  you look like.”

“I care! I’m just not obsessive!”

Mrs-Addams-_-morticia-addams-10949280-350-593After an hour of coordinating ensembles, accessories, unmentionables etc, I realize my suitcase looks like it was packed by Morticia Addams.

Packing my make-up is getting a bit easier. I just swipe my arm across the bathroom counter and drag it all into a giant tote bag.

And no matter how many lists I make, I always ALWAYS forget something critical. Like my toothbrush. Or hair brush. Or floss. Or mascara ( the horror).

Once I left all my beautifully coordinated outfits hanging on the bathroom door. Ol’ Hubby burst out laughing until I told him we had to go shopping for new duds.

If I pack for cold–the weather is uncharacteristically  warm. If I pack for heat, there’s a mysterious cold snap.
I’m the only one I knew who FROZE in the Ecuadorian rainforest!

I'm wearing 2 skirts and 4 tops in this pic

I’m wearing 2 skirts and 4 tops in this pic

“Weird weather, we’re having,” the bus driver commented as I shivered in two layers of thin cotton skirts. (Actually, that’s how Hubby translated the rapid-fire Spanish )

Maybe one day I’ll have a system comparable to all those famous jet setters. Or I’ll learn packing tips from InStyle magazine articles when they do a spread for a “weekend in wine country.”

Perhaps when I’m a famous novelist and zipping around the country signing copies of my latest bestseller I’ll HAVE IT DOWN! Packer extraordinaire! Yup..

Related Posts: The Perfect School Bag; Denim Distress; Closet Craziness; Girlie to-do list part 1; Girlie to-do list part 2; Impatient Me!

Click  Amazon link for novels.

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Salt Lake Ghost Story 2

To recap from yesterday:

My brother’s rental house was the  location of horrific crime. The murdered woman’s spirit still inhabited the home!

Later that day, after I left spook central, mom contacted a friend who had her new house “de-ghosted.”   Although not a religious person, the friend is very spiritual, and felt an unhealthy energy in one of the rooms. She hired a medium, who smudged the house to clear the negative energy.

My brother refused to pay $$$ for a medium to blow smoke around his house.

sageBooknerd and do-it-yourself-er that I am, I figured we could clear the spiritual air ourselves ( a great family activity!)  The next day mom and I set off to a New Age store ( surprisingly, there are quite a few in SLC). We bought The Ultimate Guide to Sage & Smudge.  I read the book cover to cover that night.

Spiritual cleansing by smudging has been done for thousands of years. The Catholic, Greek Orthodox, a few Protestant,and  Buddhist religions , as well as many Indigenous tribes use the ritual of smudge/smoke to cleanse and purify a space or a person.

Depending on the purpose, there are many smudge worthy herbs. Sage, sweet grass, tobacco, juniper, lavender, mugwort, and  rosemary are some examples.

According to the book, several like-minded friends, and a few internet sites,  we decided to smudge the house with sage. So, it was back to the store for sage bundles.

A few hours before sundown, we returned to my brother’s house ready to smudge. My mom, a frequent visitor, claimed she never felt anything strange in the house.

“Is she here?” she asked. “How come my children can sense a ghost, but I can’t?”

Already apprehensive and nervous, I walked around the house, feeling nothing amiss– nothing creepy–until I entered the kitchen. Frigid air engulfed me. I experienced that same pins and needles feeling from the other day.

“She’s right here. Come here and feel for yourself.” I waved mom over, moving out of the ghost space.
Mom took a step into the pocket of Cold Creepy.”Oh my God! I feel it!”
“She watches me while I cook,”  my brother said.
Looks like a giant doobie.

Looks like a giant doobie.

We lit the sage bundle,then blew it out, allowing the sage to smoke.

Newbie smudgers that we were, we went by the book.Picture this:

  • brother is leading the way with a lighted candle.
  • mom is holding a bundle of smoking sage
  • sis (me) wafts the smoke into the general direction with a white towel


(It was like a scene from a bad reality TV show: Ghost Smudgers! )

I was petrified, my imagination on overdrive ( guess that’s why I write fiction).  Visions of ghastly ghouls and chilling apparitions filled my head! The library scene from Ghostbusters  kept running through my mind.

The three of us went to every corner; the whole time I’m speaking to the ghost and wafting the smoke into every nook and cranny.  I let granny ghost know that her killer was in jail for life, and that my brother would take good care of her home. I read her the newspaper article about the murderer’s conviction and we left the computer print out on the dining room table. We brought a Bible and I told her it was time to join her loved ones on the other side.

It took us over an hour to smudge the whole house. Basement and all.

The temperature of the house increased about 10 degrees.

My brother’s house smelled liked burnt sage. We smelled like burnt sage.
Sage smells EXACTLY like marijuana!

I can’t imagine what the neighbors thought! And I was really worried that if we got stopped by the police, the officer would not believe our story. (Well officer, we were cleansing the house of ghosts.)

The final result: My brother had to smudge the house two more times before he felt ghost granny had fully left the premises. We learned later that this is common with spirits. A few weeks later, my brother just happened to meet the murdered woman’s niece! Weird, huh?  He told her about the haunting ( she had no idea) and learned that she had been a wonderful, sweet lady.

A few months later, my brother saw the ghost! An apparition was standing in the kitchen! Was she still lingering in the house? Or was it someone else?

We’ll never know because he moved out a few months later.

The library scene from Ghostbusters!


Salt Lake City Ghost Story

securedownloadThis past weekend, I turned some friends on to the iPhone Ghost app. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a free app that reads some kind of ghostly frequency. Red, blue, yellow,and green dots on a screen show if a spirit is present. If the ghost is communicating, words appear on the screen.

I TOLD my friends it was really spooky. I WARNED them! Well, the next day they were totally freaked about words that appeared on the screen and how those words directly related to her deceased mother.

But sometimes you don’t need a Ghost Radar to know there’s a spectral presence near by!  This was the case at my brother’s house. A new job in another state and a crappy economy, had my brother moving into a rental while he decided what to do with his house.

It’s a very small, old, unassuming house in an older part of Salt Lake City. One story, 2 bedrooms, 1 bath, kitchen, dining room, living room, large basement, and large overgrown backyard.

My brother is the macho type; he owns guns, two champion hunting dogs, and isn’t afraid of anything! (He once had to deal with a charging elk, but that’s another story).

Right away,
  • he noticed that the house was always cold. He assumed it was poor insulation.
  • both dogs would stare unmoving at some fixed point in the room
  • both dogs became spooked or agitated for no reason
  • there were ice cold pockets in the house
  • he felt like he was being watched.
  • he felt as though someone was sitting next to him on the sofa
  • the house felt malevolent

Spooky, huh?

So, he wasn’t surprised to learn that the former owner had been  violently murdered in her home. Newspaper articles confirmed what his coworkers told him when he shared the address of his new home.
A few months later, I came out to SLC for a visit.

“Hey sis, come check out my house. You get strange feelings all the time, tell me what you think.”
“OK, cool, we can try out my new ghost app.”

Enter Sis. The house was cold–and it was 90 degrees outside ( there’s no AC)

I walked through the living room-seemed OK–entered the dining room–nothing scary here–turned the corner and entered the 2nd bedroom–and BAM that’s when I felt it!
Ice cold shivers. Pins and needles. My entire body felt soooo bizarre.  I’ve never experienced anything like it. “She’s here.”
“Yep, she likes to hang out there. Turn on the ghost radar.” Brother points to my phone.

I’m thinking, NOT!

But I did anyway.
“How long does it take to work?” he asks, hovering over the phone.
The red dot appeared instantly and then–silly me–I began to talk to the spirit. No, I am NOT a medium.
I walked out of the cold spot and back into the dining room.
The specter said ( via ghost radar), “hole.”
I glanced up at my brother whose mouth hung open in shock.
“What is it?” There didn’t seem to be any holes in the dining room.
“You’re standing directly over a large hole in the basement that used to be an old sewage drain.”

Oh, crap! (excuse the pun)

Finally, I told the spirit to “go to the light” (Stupid, I know, but what does one say to a ghost?) The spirit replied she was angry.

OK…Time to go!

I turned that ghost app OFF and hightailed it out of the house.

Tomorrow’s blog…mom, brother, and sis attempt to get rid of the ghost.


Teen Slang 2

Don’t be a tool!

OK hipsters! I have 20 more words for you! Let’s see if you know the definition of these slang terms.

1. tool
3. trip
4. beat
5. chill
6. wack
7. tight
8. bunk
9. dis
10. bling
11. game
12. props
13. step off
14. front
15. played
16. lit
16. janky
18. dope
19. Hoopty
20. hater

Here are the definitions.

1. tool: noun: fool, person with no self-esteem
2. down: adj: to be in agreement
3. trip: verb: to panic, worry
4. beat: adj: being old -fashioned, not trendy, boring
5. chill: verb; to relax,to clam down
6. wack; adj: crazy, inappropriate, weird, stupid
7. tight: adj: cool, excellent, begin emotionally close to a person(s)
8. bunk: adj: no true, unacceptable, disagreeable, false
9. dis: verb: short for disrespect, criticize,
10. bling: noun: jewelry, shiny, sparkly
11. game: noun: having charisma, people skills, sex appeal
12. props: noun: to give credit, to praise,
13. step off: verb:to leave alone, to retreat
14. front: verb; to pretend to be something your not
15. played: verb: over used, tired
16. lit: noun: to get drunk, high OR to get angry
17. janky: adj:nasty, tacky, worthless
18. hoopty: noun: old, dilpatidated  car
19. dope: adj: awesome, great
20: hater: noun: a person who is jealous of another

How many did you get correct?
Think you can
 you use the words in a sentence? Leave a comment using the terms!

20 more words tomorrow!

Related Links: Teen Slang; Teen Talk 3#
Click  Amazon link for novels.

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Teen Talk

“Yo dawg, how mad cool are you?” (translation: hey good friend, how crazy cool are you?)

Sometimes when teenagers speak it sounds like a foreign language. It is! But I think this generation has created a whole lot more vocabulary than back “in the day.” If you remember “boss” or “narley” (spelling?) then you’re OLD dude.

Test your coolness. Can you define the following words?

1. po-po
3. mad
4. roll
5. hella
6. sick
7. aiight
8. cheddar
9. dime out
10. biter
11. mack
12. jack
13. straight
14. word
15. bounce

How did you do?

Here are the answers:

1. po-po: noun: police
2.  dawg: noun: 1.male friend ( not to be confused with dawging) 2.unattractive person either morally or phsyically)
3. mad: adj: many, astonishing, prodigious, a lot of, many
4. roll:verb:  to leave ( especially in a vehicle), to go, how you handle something
5. hella: adverb: to a high degree, exceedingly, very
6. sick: adj: great, of high quality, talented, exceptional
7. aiight: adj: acceptable, agreeable
8. cheddar: noun: money
9. dime out: verb: to inform on, tell on, expose, to rat out
10 .biter: noun: a plagarizer, or unoriginal person, copy cat
11. mack: 1. verb: to kiss, to flirt;   2,  noun: male who gets lots of sexual attention
12. jack: verb: to steal: noun: nothing
13. straight: adj, all right, fine, honest
14. word: noun; a response, endorsement, or greeting
15: bounce: verb: to leave, to go away

I’ll post 15 more words tomorrow!

WARNING: Do not attempt to use these words in a serious conversation with teens. But by all means, use words to add humor.

“I’m grounding you for coming home late, cuz that’s how mom rolls.”
“Yo honey, mom’s gotta bounce.”
Related Links: Teen Slang #2; Teen Slang #3
Click  Amazon link for novels.

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School Answering Message

Taking the day off to catch up on teacher and author responsibilities, BUT so as not to leave my faithful readers high and dry, I will share a funny video.  Any teacher will appreciate it. Sometimes, I wish I could leave something similar on my voice mail.



The Merkabah Recruit 
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Treadmill Lament

Requires agility just to get to

Requires agility just to get to

There you stand in my crowded garage
Between plastic bins and file cabinet lodged.
Chrome and rubber and plastic
whispering promises of a body fantastic.


“Walk! Run ! Jog!” I hear you call from afar.
“You spend too much time sitting in the car.”
So I pull on a t-shirt, the Nikes I lace
Step on the rubber mat, gonna make my heart race.


To pass the time, I watch Bones on Netflix
My inspiration some skinny young chicks.
I adjust the speed, faster, and faster I go
Getting into the rhythm of the treadmill flow.


 Look at me!
I’m trying to burn today’s calories.
But the meter reads only one hundred and three!
Heart pumpin’, calves burning, startin’ to sweat
Probably haven’t even  burned off my latte I bet.


Time is passing sloooooow
and I’ve got no where to go.
Faster. Slower. Flat or incline
Minutes passed–only nine!
Don’t watch the clock!                                         securedownload
Pretend you’re a jock!
Forty minutes later, the torture is complete.
My legs hurt, got blisters on my feet.


I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise the treadmill
And, you know, I probably will.
But maybe the next day, or the day after that
Cause I really do have to lose some of this fat.


I write this bad poem in fun and in jest
 But I actually do my very best.
 Just wish there was an easier way to stay svelte
then to walk-run-jog on a big rubber belt.


Hubby Funnies: Hubby Goes to Costco

Costco (1)It’s not often Hubby accompanies me to Costco. Can’t say I blame him. It’s crammed with people; you spend more than you budget; buy stuff you don’t really need ( in bulk); and wile away a good hour walking up and down the skyscraper-high isles.


Hubby doesn’t like shopping. (The “s” word makes him yawn.)
So when we had to return a Christmas gift, he decided to come with me. After we waited in the miles long return line, I informed him I needed to “get a few things.” ( Female for “Muhhahaha…I’m gonna make you push a cart behind me like a sissy while I take many hours to buy all the food in the store!”)


Hubby pushed the cart , BUT he didn’t follow me. I headed toward the grocery section, thinking Hubby was right behind me. By the time I turned at the Polar Ice Cap ( the frigid room where they keep the veggies), Hubby had vanished!


Disappeared into the Costco abyss!
I looked all over for him! I finally found him in front of one of the sample stands, noshing on a sausage.
“What are you doing?”
“Eating.” He executes a perfect toss of his paper cup into the trash bin.This is only my 4th stop, there are about 5 more to go. And I want to go back to the sausage lady.”
“Well,hurry up,  I’ll be in the veggie room.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
But I enter the veggie room alone! Again!
He finally…finally meets up with me, a frown on his face. “Do we really need all those vegetables?”
“I thought you were going on your caveman diet!”
“I am! Meat and vegetables and meat!”
I toss an armload of celery, asparagus, red peppers, cucumbers, and lettuce in the cart. “You can pick out your own meat.”


Now Hubby likes to complain that I shop “too slow” and take “too much time.” He doesn’t know how to choose a ripe fruit or a fresh vegetable.
So imagine my surprise when he spends  a looooong time perusing all the meat cases! He went from pork to beef to chicken and back again. His pupils were dilated and he wore a delirious  smile on his face. ( Kind of like when I see a shoe sale)
After much deliberation, he tossed pounds of pork in the cart, then marched over to the beef section where –I swear—he  wiped a tear as he fondled a 50 lb cut of beef.
“You are NOT getting that!” I shake my head.
“It’s so beautiful. I can almost taste it.”
After I drag him away from the meat cases, I stop at the kitchenware isle and point to the pots.
“I need new pots.”
“Yeah, I know, you keep telling me, but there’s no way I’m gonna buy you pots for Christmas. I would NEVER live that down.”
“You’re probably right.”
He hoists the giant box into the cart next to all the meat and together we stroll to the register—he’s happy about his meat and I’m glad to have shiny new pots.
Best part about taking Hubby to Costco: He loads the stuff in the car and unloads it when we get home.
Now, If only he would cook all the meat he bought!

Related Links: Hubby goes to starbucks; Hubby helps in the kitchen; Hubby uses the car’s navigation system

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The Refrigerator Blues

I got the cool–
those dual
Refrigerator blues
 Cuz, it’s true
I need to own two.
Twin places to keep yesterday’s stew
Double the storage for food that’s new.
Two times the space to fill with Tupperware
Of dinner leftovers or restaurant fare.
Mexican fajitas, Chinese take-out
Korean barbecue, half a jar of sauerkraut.


Limpy carrots, a rotten Portobello mushroom
This 2nd fridge is nothing more than a cold food tomb


Bottles of water and two cans of beer
are  carelessly shoved to the very rear
To make room for one pizza slice
 A carton of eggs and leftover rice.


The boxes, the cartons, the plastic wrapped food
Remain there quite nicely, until I’m in the mood
To clean out the 2nd fridge in my spare time.
Then, oh, dear, who knows what I might find!


Out of sight, out of mind,
That’s the well-known rhyme
If only I could remember just what’s inside
Before it rotted, dried out, or died
I would be ever so thrifty and clever
Knowing what I bought, forgetting never!


Then it hits me! It does! As I write this sad verse.
I pull the phone from out of my purse.
I open the fridge door, snap a picture, it’s true
Now I won’t have to guess, I will have a clue!
Once a week, I pledge, the photo I’ll update
The leftovers will be saved from their horrible fate!


In fact, that gives me another idea that’s grand
For trips to the store and super-sized land.
The insides of both refrigerators will I with camera snap
Then I won’t fall into the “do I have that” trap.


Riddle me this:
How can both refrigerator and pantry be stuffed with food
but Hubby and kiddos say we have nothing to eat?

freshest food is behind fridge door #1

who know what lurks behind fridge door #2

Related Posts: Treadmill Lament; My Closet; Wanted: Food Fairy; Gadget Girl; Smokin’ Good Times

Fab Female Friday-Mom

Mom shops for presents and wraps the gifts
Some of which, she can barely lift.
Mom buys the ribbons and the bows
Locates the misplaced scissors and tape, she always knows.


To the mall, to the store, and back again
Always careful about what she spends.
Shopping for deals
Cooking the meals
Stashing the gifts
Buying clothes that actually fit.


Baking the cookies, the fudge, and the pies
Removing the spot from off of dad’s tie
Mom roasts turkey, stirs the gravy, glazes the ham,
And decorates the house with Holiday glam.


Mom is Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the elves combined
A more loving heart, is impossible to find.
So give Mom a break and lend her a hand
Cause, you know she’s your biggest fan.
Merry Christmas, Mom
I love you!



Hubby “Helps” in the Kitchen

Yesterday! The Kitchen! Hubby “helps” me.

While I send a query letter, post on Facebook, twitter—you know, the social media stuff—Hubby loads the dishwasher and turns it on.

Wonderful, yes?  The kitchen is cleaned—not too tricky since we had a Costco meal—the counters are germ-free—and least that’s the claim on the spray bottle.

Tappity-tap-tap-tap. My fingers on the keyboard.

Rumble. Grumble. Splish-splash. Dishwasher noises.

Ten minutes later…

Lovely white suds are billowing out from under the dishwasher. 

“Oh-oh,” Hubby says. “I can’t believe I did that.”

The moment those words leave his mouth—I KNOW! “What did you put inside the dishwasher?” I’m afraid to look. (Actually, I lie. I’m afraid  I’ll have to clean it up.) How does one clean soap bubbles, anyway?

“Not my fault. Somebody put the dishwashing liquid under the sink. It’s never under the sink. Who put the bottle under the sink?”

Um…the same person who sneaks into the laundry room to remove ONE sock from the dryer…the same person who leaves the door unlocked, the window open…the same person who hides the remote and the dog’s leash. The elusive Nobody. ( I have teenagers, so they’re always good to blame)

I digress.

Hubby opens the dishwasher and it’s FILLED with iridescent bubbles—they might even be described as pretty if it weren’t for the mess involved.

As I write this, the dishwasher is going through yet another rinse cycle. And soap suds are still on the floor.

The dishwasher liquid vs dishwashing liquid incident reminds me of when:

Not for automatic dishwashers.

  • I grabbed the Windex instead of hairspray (the smell clued me in)
  • I dropped a gallon of liquid detergent in the laundry room ( took weeks to scrape up the soapy residue)
  • I washed a load of clothes with a tube of  lipstick ( everything was ruined)
  • I made coffee (left the kitchen) but forgot to put the carafe under the spout
  • I spend 10 minutes searching for my reading glasses when they’re on top of my head

My list could go to infinity and beyond!!!

What silly things have you done? Lately.




Survival Saturday: Tripping the Light Fantastic

lightsIt’s THAT time of year! Time for Hubby to drag out the dusty boxes full of Christmas lights. It ain’t a pretty sight!

The photo you see is our neighbor’s light display!

“Honey, Our neighbor is STILL putting Christmas lights up!”
Hubby—who is not competitive at all ( cough, cough)— walks outside and waves to our over zealous, light-tastic neighbor. “This year, I’m gonna out light him!”
“Sure you are.”
“This year I mean it. I’m pullin’ out all the stops! I’ve drawn a diagram, bought more extension cords…”
Hubby proceeds to take down and unpack all the boxes labeled Christmas lights.
“This year, we’re gonna have the most lights!” He says while laying light strands across the yard.
The neighbor in question takes weeks to put up his lights. We have NO IDEA where he stores the stuff either—his garage just isn’t big enough.
Fast forward an hour…
“I can’t find the reindeer or the angel’s head. Think anyone will notice?”

Nah, no one will notice a headless angel!

“How does a  reindeer-sized box go missing?” 
I think I threw the reindeer out last year. Only its ass lit up—it looked so wrong.”
Last year, our teens had many colorful names for the booty-lit deer. Since this is a PG blog, I regrettably cannot repeat those hilarious crude epithets. They even made a song about it to the tune of Rudolph,The Red-nosed Reindeer.

Now, just so you know, there is NO POSSIBLE way my husband can compete with the retired (we think) carpenter across the street. But every year Hubby buys several more decorations. Inflatable Santa is his favorite. No assembly required.

This Saturday, Hubby—wearing golf clothes—tells me he will be stopping by the golf course on his way to buy more decorations.

Our Christmas light collection to date:

  • 3 boxes of semi-tangled icicle lights
  • 2 boxes of  blanket lights to throw over bushes
  • 1 inflatable Santa—who appears a bit on the ethnic side—Hubby says he’s tan.
  • 1 impossible to put together mechanical elves-on-teeter-totter
  • 1 angel with trumpet
  • a 5-ft lighted wreath that requires balancing on a ledge from a 2nd story window to hang—-Scary ( the precarious procedure used to hang it, not the wreath).
  • 1 snowman
  • As of 3 PM: one inflatable bear   

 I’ll try to classy the place up with a few poinsettia by the door.

Can’t wait to see what Hubby comes home with next.

Please, everyone, stay safe this Holiday Season.

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