The Happiness Project :: Crazy Color Dreams

I was having a hard time coming up with a happy thing for today's post.  I don't know why...it's not like I'm grumpy or anything.  Actually, I'm in a really happy mood - even for a rainy day.  I think I'm just a little brain dead.  So, I decided to get showered & dressed, and tackle the Happiness Project a little later. 

Getting showered & dressed first thing in the morning is a big deal for me.  I usually don't do both of these things in succession - let alone at the beginning of the day.  Now don't go getting all crazy on me.  I get dressed everyday.  I promise.  And I get showered at least once a week every other day or so every day.  But I don't get dressed.  You know...presentable dressed.  But today's a special day.  I have a blind date.  But more about that later.

Anyway....  I got showered, got dressed and was putting on the finishing touches and there it was!  One of the things that makes me grin like a kid in a candy shop everytime I put it on.  My Franck Muller Crazy Color Dreams watch.  The Man bought it for me for my birthday a few years ago and I love love LOVE it!  I also love that it's a knock-off.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm totally worth +$35k retail price of the real deal -- I'm just way too cool to wear that kind of money on my wrist. 

So?  What's making you happy today (other than the fact that I took a shower, of course)?

How 131 Became The New 122

I’ve never really struggled with my weight. Stop hating, please. You know, hate makes you store fat. Really. That’s not to say I haven’t had my fat periods and my lean periods, but all in all I don’t really struggle. I consider 115# to be my ideal weight - and no, I haven’t seen it since I got horribly ill a decade ago.  (Oh, but how glorious it was!) 118# is what I refer to as my fighting weight – it’s were I feel I get optimal performance from my body. 122# is my natural weight. It’s just where my body wants to be. And it’s an OK weight for me. Not MILF weight, but an OK weight.

While I say I’ve never struggled with my weight, I do work to maintain it. I eat pretty well – lots of fresh foods cooked at home and absolutely no fast food. I'm a gym rat – nothing like a good sweat to start the day. And I’m not a huge fan of sitting still.  Oh, and I have that nervous leg thing.  You know, bounce-bounce-bounce with the knee.  Drives The Man crazy - and not it a good way.  I keep telling him he should pick up the habit.  It burns a lot of calories.

So with all these things I do to manage my weight, tell me how? HOW did 131# become the new 122#?! Here’s how:

4 oz. Chardonnay = 90 calories
3 oz. 1% Milk = 40 calories
3 Oreo Cookies = 160 calories

Every day. Yep. Every day. And yep, there were supposed to be three Oreos in that picture up there. Guess what happened to the missing cookie. Yep. Ate it before I could get the picture snapped.

So. Can you guess what my goal is for this week’s Shape Up with Aly? Yep. I’m gonna skip the Chardonnay.

OK, I’m going to try to skip the milk & cookies too.

As for last week’s goals…I did OK. I definitely did better on my water consumption, although there’s still room for improvement. I managed to up my sleep average from 5 hours a night to around 6 ½. I’m shooting for 7 hours a night this week. I failed miserably on remembering to take my vitamins. Anybody know where I can get some Oreo-flavored chewable vitamins?

Got a weight loss or fitness goal?  You can find some bloggy support over at  AlyGatrsEverywhere:

The Happiness Project :: Mr. Fix It, Little Bunny & The Lucky Girl

A million years ago...when I had a "real" job - a real horrible job - The Man bought me this little tchotchke to hang off the side of the potted plant in my office.  Geeze Louise how I hated that job, but my office was so dang cute.  Well, now my 'office' is the kitchen, the laundry room, the playroom, etc.  So Little Bunny's been hanging off the lampshade in The Man's home office.  

A week or so ago, the kiddos & I were out at the kitchen table doing whatever it is that we do when we're home trying to stay quiet so Daddy can get his work done doing eduational crafts, when we heard a small crash followed by a loud NOOOO!!  I asked what happened and was promptly told I didn't want to know.  Which really made me want to know.  Turns out, Little Bunny had lost his grip on the lampshade and had shattered into tiny pieces on the floor.  Buddy Boy assured me that Daddy could fix it with glue.  (The Man can work serious miracles with a brush bottle of krazy glue.)  But I told him Little Bunny was beyond repair and was going in the trash.  At which point, he got all choked up and told me he'd go to Target with me to get another one.  When I told him that Little Bunny didn't come from Target and that I was sure we would never find another one...let's just say things got very sad at our house.

Later that evening, I walked out into the kitchen and found my Mr. Fix It working miracles with his glue.  The fact that The Man cares about these silly little sentimental things...well, it makes me more than happy, it makes me feel like a pretty lucky girl.

It's Tuesday, join The Happiness Project over at Leigh vs. Laundry.  Tell us what makes you happy.

You're Lunchin'...and munchin'...on popcorn? (15 minuts of my life I'll never get back)

So, I didn't have anything better to do with my time yesterday while The Man was geeking out to golf on the TV. Actually, I could have been doing dishes, folding laundry, packing the kid's summer camp snacks but all those things seemed so boring. So I decided to number kernels of popcorn. Huh? Yep. I was totally lunchin'. But I had to choose my giveaway winner somehow.

So meet my latest Random Number Generator! 100+ kernels of popcorn, evenly arranged on a glass tray.

30 seconds in the microwave and POP! We have a winner! Congratulations Elizabeth W! You get to head on over to Apeyleedesigns and pick your lunchbox. Hopefully your mailman wont steal yours. Thanks to everybody who entered. I've never had so many entries before. It was lots of fun. Numbering the popcorn...not so much fun. At least I had something yummy to snack on when all was said and done.

Well Isn't That Nice :: The Stinky Falafel Moms (or The Book Store Bullies)

To tell the truth, I wasn’t going to do one of these posts today. I’ve been feeling a little… I dunno, nice lately. And nobody’s playing along with me anyway, and let’s face it, playing with yourself playing by yourself is overrated.

But then I went to Barnes & Noble yesterday afternoon.

As soon as we got there, my kids pulled down a bunch of books and raced over to an open bench in the reading area. My kids like to fight over me – especially in the afternoon. I don’t understand this because I’m pretty cranky – especially in the afternoon. Yesterday was no exception. Ladybug wanted me to read her some inane Barbie book, then Buddy Boy insisted I read Alvin & the Chipmunks Sqeakquelle (and I’m not even going to bother spellchecking that word). Why, oh WHY have I spent so much money on quality children’s literature when THIS is what they want?! Ugh!

Anyway, so there I sit with a stack of mind-numbing drivel when up walk a couple of moms & a bunch of boys. The moms immediately park themselves on the floor right next to our bench. Seriously, one of the moms was even leaning on our bench. And when Buddy Boy got up to get another book, she actually took his spot on our bench! You know the benches I’m talking about, right? The kiddo benches that are just barely big enough for one adult bottom and one child bottom? So that was a little obnoxious. There were other benches available, but I guess they wanted ours. Well, the boys were running and screaming pulling all the paperback books out of the kiosk adjacent to our bench. Then, up walk a few more kids – pre-teen girls all excited about something. So, two moms, seven out of control kids - all shoved into the six foot space between our bench and the wall. Comfy cozy. I was reading at the top of my lungs and my kiddos still couldn’t hear me. It was bad. And I was getting…well, even crankier usual. And then the moms proceeded to pull out snacks. SNACKS! In the bookstore! And not just any snacks. Oh no. A big bag of stinky, fried, greasy falafel!!

So we moved. And they commandeered our space. And Mick Jaeger was wrong when he said “you can’t always get what you want”. Apparently he never got bullied by a mom with a bag of stinky falafel.

Well…you win, Stinky Falafel Moms. This one’s for you:

<a href="http://teddystartedit.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af251/TeddyStartedIt/WellIsntThatNicebutton.jpg" border="0" alt="When flowers just don't say it all"></a><br />

This weekly post is brought to you by passive-aggressive people everywhere. Is there someone or something you’d like to send a flower to ? Or maybe you'd just like to flip someone off in a genteel kinda way. By all means DO SO. And then swipe my button up there and include it in your post. Then come back here and link up, of course.

I'm No MILF (But I Wanna Be)

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The Happiness Project :: Pruney Feet

Pruney feet & fingers....

Freckles....

Green hair....

A small price to pay for too much fun in the pool-side sun.

Oh yeah!  And giveaways make me happy too - so go here to enter mine!!

What's making you happy today? 

Join the fun at Leigh vs. Laundry.

Well Isn't That Nice :: Fight Like A Girl

So it’s Friday, and that usually finds me handing out flowers to some well-deserving passive-aggressive schmuck. (Don’t know what I’m talking about? Go here.) My head’s circling the drain on something a little different today. Something not nice, no matter how you sugar coat it. Something that just makes you want to scream…brace yourself…I’m gonna do it…I’m gonna use the F word…right…now...FUCK!!

Not long ago, a friend of mine – not a close friend actually, she’s the Mom of a friend of Buddy Boy’s, and I like her very much – well, she found out she has breast cancer. And not the “good” stage 1 kind. She’d had a clean mammogram just a few months earlier. This sucks! But she’s strong…so amazingly strong. She made a few jokes, shaved her head, bought some wigs, and donned a “Fight Like A Girl” t-shirt. And she’s doing it…she’s fighting like a girl. Not like a snippity, passive-aggressive suburban housewife, but like a girl. A scratching, clawing, grab-you-by-the-ponytail-and-drag-your-waxed-legs-through-the-parking-lot GIRL.

So today, instead of taking the Southern Lady’s approach to some petty act of unkindness, I’m going to celebrate my friend.  Of course, that doesn’t mean you don’t get to pass out any flowers. There are still plenty of people out there who deserve them, so tell me about it and link up!

<a href="http://teddystartedit.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af251/TeddyStartedIt/WellIsntThatNicebutton.jpg" border="0" alt="When flowers just don't say it all"></a><br />

This weekly post is usually brought to you by passive-aggressive people everywhere.  Today it's brought to you by breast cancer. Is there someone or something you’d like to send a flower to today? Or maybe you'd just like to flip someone off in a genteel kinda way. By all means DO SO. And then swipe my button up there and include it in your post. Then come back here and link up, of course.

Out to Lunch (A Giveaway)

There are many things I love about living in Texas, but my mailman isn’t one of them. Which is ironic, because my mailman used to be one of the things I loved most about living in Texas. My old mailman was a great guy. Now who says that about their mailman?! My old mailman used to let my neighbor’s dog ride in his mail jeep with him while he made his rounds. My old mailman new all his stay-at-home-moms and work-at-home dads by name. Really. He’d greet you by name when he delivered a package to your door. My old mailman looked the other way when I’d conduct a little illegal business through my mailbox. Now don’t go getting all ‘Ooooo, she’s a dope dealer’ excited about this. Years ago I had a pet sitting business. I used to leave paperwork and paychecks in my mailbox for my employees to pick up – which is illegal. Did you know the only thing allowed by law to go into and come out of your mailbox is mail? Technically speaking, your mailbox is not YOUR mailbox? It’s considered property of the US Postal Service?

Well, my new mailman is a problem. Especially lately. He seems nice. He waves at the kiddos and hands them the mail when they beg him for it. But, he’s a liar…and a thief. He says he can’t pick up pre-posted packages from my mailbox – that I have to take them to the post office. Liar, liar, pants on fire! He says he delivers ‘confirmed delivery’ packages to my door and then goes pack to the Post Office and marks them ‘undeliverable as addressed’ and then they disappear forever. Thief! And he loses my packages – like my Mom’s Mother’s Day gift that took 2 ½ weeks to get to her, and the Once Bitten samples I sent to a troop of soldiers doing special training in a bug-infested jungle. The new mailman, who is obviously not a Texan, is totally out to lunch!

Speaking of lunch…. Back in January, to celebrate my birthday, I featured a handful of Etsy shops that were born on my birthday. One of those shops, Apeyleedesigns, makes the cutest bags and lunchboxes. April (aka: Apeylee) recently sent me a lunchbox to review and give away to one of you lucky readers. This is the one that my mailman is eating his lunch out of everyday…because he stole it! From me!! And I’m pretty mad about it. But April, who is obviously nice enough to be a Texan, still wants to do the giveaway – even though she’s already lost one lunchbox to the USPS.

So here’s what’s up for grabs: one of her beautiful handmade lunchboxes - any one you like! Each lunchbox features coordinated fabrics; a thermocool lining to keep things cool and fresh; a laminated interior for easy clean up; a Velcro closure to keep your yummies from falling out; and two convenient exterior pockets for utensils, napkins, your legally licensed concealled weapon - in case you need to go postal, etc. (JKOC...about the weapon, not about all the great features.)

To enter:

- Visit April’s shop and then come back here and tell me which item you like best (this step is manditory for entry.)

You can receive bonus entries by doing any of the following:

- Follow April’s blog: one bonus entry
- Heart Apeyleedesigns: one bonus entry
- Buy something from her shop: two bonus entries
- Follow my blog: one bonus entry

Leave me comments for each thing you do – with a way of contacting you, please.

The giveaway will close at midnight, CST, on June 19 – April’s 5 month Etsyversary (and my Mom’s birthday.)

Good luck!

The Happiness Project :: Serendipity

Some folks say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well, I say when the non-stick surface of your waffle maker starts tearing your waffles apart…make Waffle Sandwiches!

Ya just gotta love it when an appliance failure results in a new and delicious breakfast discovery. Now that’s serendipity!

What’s making you happy today? Join the fun over at Leigh vs. Laundry.

The First Cut is the Deepest

Today was momentous day in our house.

Ladybug's been bugging me for a while now to cut her hair. She seems to be under the impression that if she cuts it, it will be short and straight and brown...just like her friend Audrey's. Last month I took her to my hairdresser, Michael -- so he could do the dirty work of explaining it to her. He looked deep into her brown eyes and explained, "Sweetie, I will never cut your hair. NEVER!" So, I was left with the task of explaining to her that she will never, not EVER be able to wear a Bob. That her hair will always be curly, and cutting it will only make it curlier. That some day, she will realize that her hair is actually a lethal weapon, and that it will get her darn near anything she wants - providing she learns how to use it, of course. Which she will, of course. Which, actually, she has already learned to a certain extent.

But then it happened. Last Monday to be exact. The tangle that couldn't be combed out. The snarl that had to be cut out. It was an unfortunate one - relatively high on the head, in the front, near her face. *snip-snip* A rogue ringlet. A lock that will no longer reach into a pony tail. *Sigh*

Poor girlie. She's so strong-willed. So full of fight. Really. She'll fight you just for the sport of it. But the one thing she lets me do is comb her hair -- even though it's horribly painful and it takes forever. She puts up with it, bless her little Texan heart. But with those fabulous locks reaching nearly to her fanny, the time had come. So...

...out came the scissors.

I cringed as I made the first cut. (Really...I felt a little sick at the sound of those first snips.)

And then, there they were...the locks I couldn't put back on. The point of no return. My intention was to take off about an inch or so -- you know, just to clean it up a bit. In the end, about 4" came off!

Poor little Ladybug. After all was said and done, she wasn't quite sure.

But I think it will be a much more manageable and attractive length for her.

After a while, she seemed convinced that things were going to be OK.

Well Isn't That Nice :: The Nurse

It starts with an F, and it's Friday, but it ain't your regular Follow Friday

(but you can play along anyway.)

I took Ladybug to the urgent care a while back. She had a weird bump on the back of her neck. I'm not a paranoid mom. Actually, I'm pretty laid back when it comes to health stuff. But I spend so much time consciously neglecting my girl, that when this thing popped up...well, let's just say I put myself on a helluva guilt trip. But my Mother's intuition was really nagging at me over this bump, so I decided to take the girlie in to see a doctor.

Now if you read my blog (and of course you do...religiously) you probably know (or have figured out) that I'm old as dirt no spring chicken a 'mature mom'. OK, true confessions, I'm 46. Buddy Boy is 5, Ladybug is 3. I know what you're thinking now.... Daaaaaaaannng! She's OLD. Yeah, whatever. I may have been born before God, but I consider myself remarkably immature I'm as hip as they come. And frankly, up until the 2nd kiddo, I was looking pretty damn good for my age. Actually, it's not that I'm looking bad for my age these days, it's just that I've moved back to Texas where everybody has their kids when they're in their 20s. In the Silicon Valley, where I lived when I bred my replacements, the average age of the 1st-time mother is 35. I had plenty of company on the geriatric maternity ward.

So...back to the urgent care. I'm sitting in an exam room with my daughter. A not-so-gracefully pregnant nurse waddles in:

Nurse: So, what are we seeing this little lady for today?

Me: She's got a strange bump on the back of her neck.

Nurse: OK, Ma'am. Now, is she your granddaughter or your daughter?

Me: *blink* *blink*

All the way home I was kicking myself for not saying, "Hmmm...are you pregnant or just FAT?"

Yes, I missed out on the perfect opportunity for the ultimate rude response to the cruelest question I've ever been asked. Well, sweetie, this finger's flower's for you!

So what's this all about?  If you missed the original post, check it out here.

<a href="http://teddystartedit.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1013.photobucket.com/albums/af251/TeddyStartedIt/WellIsntThatNicebutton.jpg" border="0" alt="When flowers just don't say it all"></a><br />

This weekly post is brought to you by rude people everywhere. Is there someone you’d like to send a flower to today? Or maybe you'd just like to flip someone the bird in a genteel way. By all means DO SO. Just swipe my button up there and include it in your post. Then come back here and link up, of course. 

G’head. Grab it! You know you want to.

The Happiness Project :: Let There Be Light

Seriously.  How could a chandelier made entirely of gelatto spoons not make you absolutely giddy?

This post was brought to you by Leigh vs. Laundry's Happiness Project.  Join the fun, wont you?