Thing 2 drew this for me many years ago. For years, I thought it was a picture of me, but it's not ... it's a picture of Mamma, not Mama. I don't know who Mamma is, but she either can't decide which direction she wants to go or she needs corrective surgery on her hips, knees, and ankles! Poor Mamma.
Scientists at the University of Lincoln have determined that there is a right and wrong way to pet your cat. They released their findings in a 2014 article for Applied Animal Behavior Science. Their findings include where ... and where not ... to pet your cat.
You can read the full article here to make sure you are in compliance. But let's face it ... if you have a cat, you're working harder at the pet/master thing than the cat is ... I say pet the cat however you want!
Growing up, Thing 2 showed no interest in learning how to cook. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Now that she is engaged to be married, she's beginning to realize she and her future husband will starve to death if one of them doesn’t learn how to cook. Anxious to have her sweetie brag to his friends about his wife’s culinary skills, she’s been trying out new dishes, and I am happily reaping the rewards. After years of wishing my kids would cook for me once in a while, Thing 2 is now more than willing to cook dinner and await my praise. The night before last she cooked a broccoli rice chicken casserole, and it was pretty tasty. I’m sure there will be some less than appetizing meals served to me in the coming year, but so far, so good!
When I opened the garage door to leave this morning, I could see the tell-tale signs of a filthy raccoon that had attempted to get into my garage. I'm sure it's motivation was the smell garbage in the trash can. It obviously tried to get in underneath the overhead door, but it didn't work. Good ... I despise raccoons!
I really dislike when I see a headline on the web about a story that catches my eye, but when I click on the link, it takes me to a video ... not a print story. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but when I'm online reading the news, I actually want to read. Sometimes there is a video and a story, and I'm fine with that. I can read the story and decide if I want to watch the video ... and I usually don't ... the article is generally sufficient.
There are some things that you just have to see to believe, but most of the stories can be described effectively without having to watch a video ... with an advertisement first (which I always mute).
So, to all you online news outlets ... don't just assume your audience would rather see a video. There are some of us who still want to read our news.
I had to run to the grocery last night, and on a whim, I looked for Cinnamon Bun Oreo's ... and found them! After I got home, I opened the cookies and tasted one. I was so disappointed. I couldn't taste any cinnamon. The cookie itself is good, but it doesn't taste anything like a cinnamon bun.
The oreo "chef's" may have intentionally went light on the cinnamon, but they went so light that the flavor is non-existent. People who like cinnamon buns like the taste of cinnamon! The cinnamon is the selling point! The cinnamon lovers who buy cookies expect to taste cinnamon.
I say the cookie is a Big ... Fat ... Fail. If you make a cinnamon cookie and want cinnamon lovers to buy them over and over and over, you need to add enough cinnamon that they can actually taste it. I'll eat them, but only because I like cookies, and (fortunately) I like vanilla cookies, but I won't be buying them again.
It's more like they're wrong 85% of the time. They also say global warming is responsible for all the catastrophic natural disasters ... despite that it's a proven fact that the Earth's weather is cyclical, and the Earth is in a cooling cycle.
Meterorologists can claim whatever they want, but that doesn't mean it's true.
I woke up this morning to the news that Glenn Frey died yesterday. As soon as I heard the news, I called Superman, a huge Eagles fan. He had already heard the news, but my daughter overheard the conversation and asked me who died. I told her Glenn Frey, and she looked at me like Penny looks at Sheldon when he's explaining physics.
"Of the Eagles," I added.
"Oh", she said, then turned over to sleep a little longer.
She didn't know who Glenn Frey was, but she did know the Eagles (even though his death didn't seem to affect her much!). All of my kids know the Eagles music and all the words to most of their songs. They should ... they listened to it throughout their childhood because I listened to it. Anyone who grew up listening to the Eagles never quit listening to the Eagles.
I don't remember the Beatles breaking up, but I do remember the Eagles breaking up. Their music had filled our lives through all of our formative years. It seemed such a shame that this talented group of musicians, that had made such amazing music together, would no longer be serenading us everywhere we went.
They got back together again in 1994 and began a reunion tour ... and their fans rejoiced. In 2007, they released their first new album in 28 years ... Long Road Out of Eden. Superman and I saw them in concert in October of 2010, and it was the best concert I have ever been to. Some of the band members looks a little worse for wear and tear, but their musical talent and their voices were still sharp and clear.
Music touches the soul in a way that no other art can. It can transport us back in time. For those of us who grew up listening to the Eagles, when hear Hotel California, or One of These Nights, or Tequila Sunrise, we're not middle-aged people raising kids and struggling through life ... we're sixteen again. We're riding through the night with the car windows down and the warm, summer breeze blowing across our faces. Our biggest problems are whether the boy we have a crush on likes us and how far we can push our midnight curfew without getting grounded. We're young and innocent again, full of joyful expectations of our journey towards adulthood.
Fans all over the world are mourning the death of Glenn Frey, and those who kept intending to go to one of their concerts are kicking themselves for missing out on the opportunity to see one of the greatest legends of rock and roll. I am so glad I got to see them. The tickets were expensive, but they were worth every penny.
Glenn Frey did what we all dream of doing ... he created a legacy that will live on long after he's gone. His name will be echoed in halls by people not yet born.
Thank you, Glenn Frey (and the Eagles), for providing the soundtrack to my youth.
Eagles in 2008 (left to right): Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Joe Walsh, and Timothy Schmit
I saw this book at the library the other day. Since Uncle Wiggily is somewhat of a legend in my family, I had to snap a picture.
When I was growing up, "us four little kids" were all born within five years of each other. Since little kids don't understand birthdays and why only one kid gets a present, my mom always bought us all something on each other's birthday. Sometimes we all got the same thing (like the year we all got giant Fuzzy Wuzzy bears), and sometimes we all got something different ... like the year I got an Uncle Wiggily game (which is what I'd been asking ... begging ... for).
I never knew what presents my mom bought, either for the birthday girl or the others, but one year I told one of my little sisters that I'd tell her what she was getting if she told me what I was getting. I knew she wouldn't tell me and ruin my birthday, so it didn't matter that I didn't have a clue as to what she was getting.
She immediately blurted out, "You're getting an Uncle Wiggily game!"
And I immediately burst into tears.
Since then, it's became a joke in our family ... when anyone asks what they're getting, the answer is always, "You're getting an Uncle Wiggily game!"
This little guy is in constant motion, so getting a picture of him that wasn't blurry was a time-consuming endeavor! I can't wait until he's big enough to run to me, throw his little arms around me and say "I love you, Grandma!".
My gas light came on last night when I was on my way home, but I waited until this morning to stop for gas. I don't think I've ever paid this little for a tank of gas since I bought my van ten years ago. I know really cheap gas isn't good for the world's economy, but it sure feels good to my economy!
My best friend once commented that it must be nice to be the same size as my daughters and be able to wear each other's clothes.
I can see why she'd think that ... but, no ... it's not nice!
Thing 1 doesn't live with me anymore, so her clothes are too far away to be of any benefit to me. I have been known to raid Thing 2's closet on occasion, but a lot of her clothes are a little too "young" for me to wear with any confidence.
Thing 2, however, often enjoys the benefits of raiding my closet. I wouldn't mind, except it's hard to get them back. Sometimes she brings them back without my asking, but it usually requires nagging or raiding her floor in order to retrieve them.
She borrowed my favorite black sweater about a month ago. I just got it back ... dirty, of course ... so I washed it. I put it on this morning and noticed a big hole on the sleeve! Had the hole been on the elbow I could have dismissed it as wear and tear, but it's just below the elbow ... on the top side. Something she was carrying obviously snagged it, and now I have a hole ... and now have to go buy a new favorite black sweater.
If you ask my daughters if it's nice to be able to wear each other's clothes, the answer would be "Yes, very much so!", but if you ask me, the answer is a resounding, "NO!".
W's mommy wasn't feeling good yesterday, so she asked me if I'd mind watching him. Mind? Heck, no I don't mind!! He was a perfect little gentleman for me. He's "talking" and smiling now, so we had long conversations in between his naps. This sweet little angel is the perfect baby ... he's loves to cuddle, he's easy to comfort, and he's about as cute as cute can be! I must say, little W has set the grandkid bar pretty high for his future cousins!
My jaw dropped when I looked outside my window this morning. The entire sky was a vivid, bright, red/pink. My camera didn't even come close to capturing the beauty of this sunrise. It was gorgeous!
And, obviously, I was wrong about the snow melting away yesterday. Even though the ground is still warm, the temperature was frigid, so I guess that kept the snow in place. What melted on the roads yesterday only froze solid overnight, so schools are closed today. My sister and brother-in-law in Minnesota are probably rolling their eyes at us! But that's okay ... I don't mind being laughed at if it means a snow day from work!
Yesterday the high was 55º, but they were predicting 1-3 inches of snow to fall overnight. When I woke up this morning, I almost rolled over and went back to sleep ... just because I can ... but then I remembered it was supposed to snow last night. I (reluctantly) got out of my warm, toasty bed and peeked out the window. and was greeted with winter wonderland.
I looked online to see just how much snow we got, but none of the news sites for this area mentioned anything other than the fact that it snowed ... there was no official count or even an estimate. I'm guessing it was about 2". We've had such a warm, mild winter that the ground is far too warm to allow the snow to stay around long. I don't like winter or snow or cold, but I will concede that a snow-covered landscape can be beautiful ... as long as I don't have to get out in it!
I recently read an article written by a linguist who documented what swear words are used most in areas of the United States. (No doubt paid for by a grant from the government at the taxpayers expense.) This particular linguist chose eighteen offensive words and how prevalent their use was across this great land of ours. Since civilized journalist don't use those words in print, they typed the first and last letters of the word, with asterisks in between. After perusing the list, I decided that I'm either getting old or don't get around much. While I knew what most of them were, I didn't have a clue as to what some of the words they were they were "asterisking out" were supposed to represent.
I live where the f-word is used less frequently. It appears all coastal regions, including those around the Great Lakes, use this word with much more frequency than the rest of the country. If the people who live in those areas hear that word more than I do, they must really be sick of hearing it!
They have also deduced that my area uses the words gosh, darn, crap, and douche more frequently than other regions. ("Gosh" is a swear word???) Oddly, those words weren't "asterisked out", so I have a hard time calling them real swear words. I rarely say gosh, darn, or douche, but I have been known to utter "crap" from time to time. The article didn't mention the word "poop", which is my expletive of choice. Yup ... when I'm mad or disappointed, I say poop or poo. I guess that makes me a real potty mouth (no pun intended).
An activist in China held a contest last year to find the "best" photo of women with untamed armpit hair. In addition to the contest being really icky, the prizes are even worse. You can read about it here.
The last couple of years I lived in my former home, a stray cat sat on the porch, alternately taking naps and watching traffic pass by. Sometimes she lays on the porch and naps, while other times she lays in the swing and naps ... so my kids named her Nap Kitty.
I stopped by Thing 1's house the other day and found Nap Kitty still on duty. I guess when Thing 1 and her husband bought the house, they also bought Nap Kitty!
I received this fortune well over a year ago, and I've yet to be recognized or suitably rewarded. But, it's still better than the fortune my best friend got one time. It was, without a doubt, the all-time worst fortune ever ... it said for good fortune, she needed to eat her fruits and vegetables. That may be true, but it's hardly profound. Besides, we've got mothers and doctors to nag us to eat better. We don't need it from the fortune cookie people, too.
I would think being either 400 pounds OR being a bearded woman would make you easy to find, but being both would make it impossible to hide for long. She may as well turn herself in. Even in a city the size of San Diego, how many 400 pound bearded women can there be?