MCCAIN CHOOSES PALIN

I don't know much about this woman yet, except that she has a baby the same age as Charlie!

I'm having trouble getting the laundry done, and she's running for vice-president. If ever I felt like a failure for not being able to do more after having a baby, it's now.

Thanks a lot, McCain.

On second thought, Palin should have been holding her baby during today's speech, you know, like those crazy women that take their crying babies up with them to the pulpit during testimony meeting. She could have dressed him in a Prop 8 Onesie, and then he would be a true political tool!

*Everyone remember what green means, right?

IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES

Yesterday I walked up to my car and found this flyer placed on it by a local church:


Talk about scary! It looks like some sort of death threat, not an invitation to their Sunday services.

I have a really hard time with the concept of "living like you are dying." If I knew I was dying, I would do things a lot differently. Erik would quit his job and we would travel the world. We would not make long term plans or save money. Of course, you can't live like that or you would save nothing and make no long-term plans.

Lately, I've been feeling very "oppressed." We've been extremely determined to live on a tight budget and save money these past few years. Yet, I feel like we are so focused on saving that we are never able to enjoy what money we do save.

Well, yesterday, I just about had it. I just had to spend some money. No, we did not get a bonus, raise, or win the lottery. We just went on a crazy spending spree because we couldn't take it anymore.

First, Erik bought some shoes...

...I bought expensive concert tickets...

... then, Erik bought a 30 gallon salt water aquarium!

So, for that one day, I really felt like we were living like we were dying, because we hardly ever spend money. I wish I could tell you that money doesn't buy happiness, but I actually felt really good yesterday, so maybe it does!

THE COOLEST SHOW ON TELEVISION

Alright, could Sesame Street be any cooler? I don't think so.

Yesterday, Will Arnett (or maybe it was GOB?) was doing magic tricks with Elmo, complete with "Final Countdown"-type music. (Thanks, Candace, for the tip!) If that isn't enough, today there was a 30 Rock parody and Feist singing 1-2-3-4!

I wish Luke realized how great all this is, but unfortunately, I think the "coolness" is going over his head.

IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS

This weekend I tried the infamous and controversial raw milk for the first time in my life. It was excellent and lives up to the hype (especially if you don't shake it up and just drink the cream off the top. Mmmmm.) As I type this, I am drinking a cup of normal milk and it's kind of gross compared to raw milk. I've been ruined forever.

Although I have an easy way to get raw milk in town, at $6.90 per 1/2 gallon, I can't afford it. I would have to order 12 1/2 gallons a week to keep up with our milk consumption. That would be $358 a month on milk alone! I just can't justify it, regardless of how good it is.

If you were to ask Erik what he would do if he had a million dollars, he would probably get his pilots license right now. I, on the other hand have bigger plans for that money. I would eat my way through it.

If I had a million dollars, I would shop at places like Whole Foods, sorry, I meant, Lassens, for everything. We would eat grass fed beef imported from New Zealand for lunch and lobster for dinner. We would use raw milk in our pancake batter. I would give my children boxes of organic juice and expensive crackers. My refrigerator would be full of kefir and Naked Juice. I would eat exotic breads, french pastries, and brie whenever I liked. The only ice cream allowed in our home would be Haagen-Dazs. All our produce would be organic.

I'm not alone in this idea. Read any gossip magazine, and there are countless pictures of celebrities (aka millionaires) going grocery shopping at Whole Foods! I have yet to find a picture of a celebrity at Winco or Food For Less. Really rich people spend a lot of money on their food just because they can.

Gwen Stefani and family.
(If I had a million dollars, I would not take my toddler to the grocery store with me.)

Nicole Ritchie exiting Whole Foods and drinking a Naked Juice.

Orlando Bloom stealing a shopping cart from Whole Foods.

It's hard to believe that Victoria Beckham does her own grocery shopping, but here she is in 5 inch heels at, you guessed it, Whole Foods!

Now, those that really know me are are probably thinking, "Wait, can't you get most of this food at a discount?" Yes, but it's still expensive, so it'll just be rice and beans/beans and rice for the time being.

One day... one day.

I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT

Someone recently asked if I could do a post about wedding announcement etiquette. Her words were something like, "If I get one more announcement with the registry information printed on the actual announcement, I am going to scream. That is so tacky!" She's right, but man, you think those anti-Prop 8 people hate me, just imagine if I were to dissect actual wedding announcements that people have sent me! That would be worse than using the Stork Parking at Babies 'R' Us when you're not expecting. I'm bad, but I'm not that bad.


I save every wedding announcement I receive in ziploc bags that I keep in my closet. Once in awhile I go through them with friends and we sort them into good, really good, and hideous. (Don't you judge me. It's a fun little game.)

Mormon wedding announcements are especially fun because they include pictures. This is a strange phenomenon unique to Mormons. Other religions don't typically do this. I get really mad when I don't get a picture.

So, instead of offending every single person I know by critiquing my least favorite engagement pictures, I will be vague and just tell you what drives me crazy!

1. Pictures where the couple doesn't touch. I have a picture where the couple is on opposite sides of a fence. Weird. Another where the couple is on opposite sides of a bench. What are they trying to tell us?

2. Pictures where I can't see their faces. Alright, I know I said I wouldn't, but I have to post this one engagement picture to illustrate my point:

I twisted this picture every which way and still couldn't see what my friend's fiancee looked like. Drove me nuts. Why send a picture out if we can't see your faces? Waste of time and money, in my opinion. Plus, how are we supposed to know if you are scummy-yummy or equally matched. I'm just sayin'....

3. Most black and white pictures. Alright, I have a confession. I have a black and white engagement picture, at my insistence. It was cool in 2001. Everyone did it, but now I hate it. The photographer was great, but I wish now that I could see the beautiful colors of the trees, etc. What a waste.


I didn't like this picture because of my arm. The best part is that we received lots of picture frames with this picture in it as wedding gifts. I wanted to say, sarcastically, "Wow, thanks... just can't get enough of that picture." Gag.

4. Pictures with animals. I hate dogs.

To end this on a positive note, here are some examples of good engagement pictures.


I liked my sister and brother-in-law's picture because it was easy to see their faces, in color, and no dogs. We had the same photographer for our engagement pictures, just 7 years apart and now she is a professional. It really does make a difference.


This isn't an announcement, but I loved this idea for a unique Christmas card. Of course, doing this requires foresight and preparation.


Finally, here is one of Erik's favorite engagement pictures. He likes it because you can see the BYU sailing club property in it. Seriously, he mentions it every time we go through our announcement bags.

EASY TO PLEASE

Sometimes I think, "Wow, I am so cheap. Is it even possible for me to be any cheaper?"

Then something like this comes along.

Thomas Tank Engine Roundhouse Train Set
Retail Price $599.00

My version (are you ready for this!?):

Thomas Tank Engine Set, Special Cheap-o Edition
Retail Price: $2.00

I went to K-mart and they had these doodle things inside Thomas Tank Engines for $1.00 a piece, so I splurged and bought 2. I cut the boxes apart and taped together pictures of the track and glued the background of each box onto the paper. (I got "crazy" and added another sheet of track for him.) He likes to color on it, which he probably would have done on the $600 real set too. I am not kidding when I say that this thing has been occupying him for days.

2 year olds are so easy to please... sometimes.

QUESTION AND ANSWER TIME!

I recently received this question from MamaDoula:

"is this a real blog, or a fake one like seriouslysoblessed?"

Well, MamaDoula, first I would like to compliment you on your career choice. Although I have never used a doula, I thought that would be a pretty cool career. My one fear about hiring a doula during childbirth though is that I would pay all that money and then realize that she annoyed the heck out of me. So, I pray that you are a calming force for women in labor and not some irritating lady they want to strangle.

Now, on to your question. Unfortunately, this is a real blog. I really am (somehow) attracting mormon homosexuals and housewives to my site. Crazy, I know.

Your question really has me thinking though, maybe I should turn this into a fake blog. I would do it slowly of course. At first, my readers wouldn't know what was true or false, and then suddenly I'd be hanging out with Posh and Becks in one of my posts and you would all say, "Hmmm, maybe she's making this up."

If anything, that question was quite the compliment. Fake blogs are exciting! Real blogs are boring.... zzzzzzzzzzzz....

If anyone has questions or something you would like me to blog about, please contact me at ordinaryhousewife@gmail.com.

GOING AROUND WEARING A BIG BS

Here's a lead for Dateline NBC, the local news, or any other investigative reporters -

Remember this scene in Jack-Jack Attacks when Syndrome (the villain) replaces Kari, the babysitter?


Syndrome: Is this the Parr's residence?

Kari: Yes! I'm Kari, the babysitter!

Syndrome: Well, hello, uh... Kari. I am...

Kari: You're my replacement, thank heaven you've come! What does the S stand for?

Syndrome: For... s...Sitter! Yeah, sitter. Originally I was gonna have initials for babysitter, but then I would've been going around wearing a big BS, and you understand why I couldn't go with that.

Mr. Dicker: ... and you believed him!?

I've been helping a friend out this week by transporting her daughter, Mary, to and from daycare and preschool. No big deal, right? Except that I can't believe how relaxed security is at the daycare!

Day One:

I go into the daycare to pick up Mary. The teacher asks to see my i.d. I show it to her and she can't find my name on the list, but lets Mary go with me anyway.

Day Two:

I go into the daycare to pick up Mary. It is a different teacher from the day before. This teacher still can't find my name on a list and tells me to talk to her supervisor who is down the hall. I look down the hall and the supervisor's office is empty. I take Mary and leave anyway. No one stops me.

Does anyone else think this is super scary? They obviously have policies in place to insure that children only go with the people they are supposed to, but they are not being followed. Do you realize how easy it would be for an estranged parent with no rights to his or her children to pick them up and take them away forever?

I know that most of you are probably thinking that I am blowing this out of proportion, but imagine the consequences for not following this simple procedure? What if I was a crazy person? A child molester? Some stranger off the street? An evil villain (aka Syndrome) hoping to take Mary hostage to threaten her superhero parents?

People are way too trusting.

TAKE IT LIKE A MAN

The other day my neighbor asked me (with a straight face) if I had seen the ghost roaming around in their backyard. I said, "No, tell me more about it so I will recognize it when I see it!" (It was so hard for me not to laugh during this conversation.) Very seriously, she said, "You know, these homes were built on farms, so it make sense that the ghost resembles a Chinese farmer." I thought, "Whoa - a Chinese farmer? You mean like this guy?"


When Erik wanted to buy this hat while we were camping I couldn't bring myself to come right out and tell him that I thought it was ugly because he liked it so much. Instead, I opted to say it looked like something someone who worked in the rice fields would wear. I figured that would make him not want to buy it, but he was like, "Cool!" and plopped down $15.

I have to remind myself that it could have been worse. This was my brother-in-law's hat during our camping trip:

His wife (my sister-in-law) put it best when she said, "It looks like the kind of hat that the Relief Society uses to make center pieces." Larry knew she didn't like it, but he wore it proudly the whole week we were camping. Gotta love his attitude!

Why can't women be as forgiving as men? Whenever Erik's hair gets big, he starts to look like Elton John. I tell him this and he doesn't seem offended one bit. If he told me that I looked like Elton John, I would freak out. Crocodile Rock aside, it's probably much harder to be a guy, because women do not take criticism well.

Erik once asked me five minutes before we were leaving the house for a party, "Is that what you're wearing?" I went ballistic. I screamed about how hard it was to find clothes that fit right since I had a baby. I blamed him for my ugly clothes because his job made us move so far away from real stores. The worst part was the babysitter in the other room listening to my entire teenage-esque tantrum. So embarrassing.

Or take last night for example. Erik asked, "Will you be offended if I put garlic salt on my dinner?" I said, "No," but I was really irritated.

I don't want to be the over-sensitive wife that can't be told that her cooking is bad or outfit is ugly. I just am, but don't tell me I am or I will freak out.

PROP 8 ONESIES NOW ON SALE

Just in case you were wondering how to dress your kids when you go door to door in support of Proposition 8, I have created an online store where you can purchase the onesie pictured above. I didn't want the toddlers to feel left out, so there are shirts for them as well!


Plus, here's a fun and creative way to tell that "special someone" how you really feel about California politics!

HOW TO GO BYE-BYE ON TIME

I am late for everything. It is getting to be really embarrassing. I am always hopeful that we can start getting ready to leave the house ten minutes before we need to be out the door and it never works. Never.

Fortunately, I have devised this helpful formula to know when to begin getting ready to leave the house so that we can be on time:

Time You Need to Pull Out of the Driveway: 9:30 a.m.

Add 5 Minutes for each child in diapers.
Add 15 Minutes if you have a nursing baby.
Add 10 Minutes for each child you need to get dressed.
Add 10 Minutes if your baby spits up a lot.
Add 20 Minutes if you have to feed a toddler.
Add 5 Minutes to pack your diaper bag.
Add 20 Minutes if you need to get ready also.
Add 20 Minutes if you need to actually look good.
Add 20 Minutes if your kids need to look good too.
Add 10 Minutes if you need to move anything from one car to another.
Divide the Total of These Added Minutes by Two if another adult is helping you.
Add 20 minutes To that Total if the other adult helping you is your husband or someone else that is easily distracted.

Using this formula, I would need to begin getting ready at 7:00 a.m. to leave the house at 9:30 a.m.

Yet, if you nurse the baby at 7:00 a.m., he will need to be nursed again before you leave at 9:30 a.m. Starting this early also means that diapers will need to be changed twice. This now compounds the problem, making your start time even earlier. My life has turned into a bad word problem and I don't know the answer.

It's a wonder I ever leave the house.

WHOA, NELLY!

Who would have thought that my little Proposition 8 post would cause such a stir?! My story about using Charlie as a political tool* got picked up by a Los Angeles based news blog yesterday and then numerous gay Mormon forums. Nice.

At first I was mad that I was being called a bigot, (and that Betty Bowers thing really irritated me too), but then I saw my page loads go through the roof! Exciting stuff!

So, to all the Proposition 8 haters that are visiting my blog for the first time, I welcome you. Stop by anytime!

Since you obviously have a lot of anger that you need to get out, here are other topics that I have recently written on that you might find controversial and enjoy commenting on:

Homebirths
Pierce Brosnan's Singing Voice
Breastfeeding
Fat Faces
Mitt Romney
Tacky Modesty

And let's not forget the most controversial topic of them all -

David Archuleta Is Overrated

You see people, I'm just an ordinary housewife. Calm down. Save your hateful comments for political forums, not silly housewife blogs. If anything, these kind of reactions make me want to go out and talk to even more people about Proposition 8!

*Sarcasm is denoted in GREEN

THE ART OF LOOKING GOOD WITHOUT REALLY LOOKING GOOD

It's 4:00 p.m. on an average weekday. What are you doing?

I know what I'm doing. I'm getting ready for my husband to come home from work! In this, my 2nd year as a stay-at-home wife, I am perfecting the art of looking good, but not too good for when he walks in that door at 5 p.m.

For example, what would happen if you made cookies for your husband every day? He would begin to expect it. On the day that you didn't make cookies, he would freak out and scream, "Woman, where are my cookies!" Isn't it better for those cookies to remain special?

I call this The Art of Looking Good Without Really Looking Good. In other words, your husband knows you look good under those thick glasses and messy hair, but you're only going to show that side of you every third day so he doesn't get used to you looking good. That way, you can only get "better looking"!

As a kid, I saw this episode of Donahue where this woman would not let her husband see her without make-up. This freaky lady would wake up really early before him every morning to do her make-up. I never heard the end of the story, but I imagine that one day there was some emergency in the middle of the night, he turned on the lights, saw her face, ran away and never came back! Silly lady. This could have all been prevented if she would have just practiced the The Art of Looking Good Without Really Looking Good.

Everyone's method of doing The Art of Looking Good Without Really Looking Good is a little different. Mine includes lots of nasty hair rubberbands, little deodorant, no make-up, ugly mom shorts, and an old shirt from Girls Camp. (See the picture below for today's example.) I challenge everyone to do this for two days, and then on the third day actually make yourself look nice. You could even make cookies on the third day too for an added ooomph!

Good luck and you can thank me for the marriage advice later!*

Welcome home, Honey. Don't expect cookies.
This is as good as it gets today.

*Just in case you weren't sure, this whole post is a joke, kind of, sort of, okay, not really.

ANOTHER REALLY STUPID QUESTION

I've been talking to mortgage brokers all morning because we are seriously considering buying a house and I realized that I left another really stupid question off that list I made a while back -

"How much would you like your monthly mortgage payment to be?"

Each time I am asked this dumb question it is taking everything in me to not say, "$1 a month."

Once while buying a car, the salesman asked us this dumb question and I said, "I want our payment to be 10 cents a month." He said, "We can't do that." I said, "Then, why did you ask me?" And we walked out.

Stupid questions demand stupid answers. C'mon people!

PROPOSITION 8

This may sound crazy, but when I was a missionary for my church, I actually really liked going door-to-door. It was like a big game. You never knew who (or what) you would find! Would an overweight half-naked man answer the door in his underwear? How about an old lady with lots of cats who thought you were Catholic nuns? Or a Moroccan family who spoke little french (or english) but wanted to feed you? I loved it, even if people were kind of mean! Alright, they were really mean, but it was still a fun time.

Well, I decided today after going door-to-door in support of California's Proposition 8 , that missionaries would be much better received if they were allowed to carry a baby in their arms.

Really, how could anyone slam a door in this face?


When we were holding Charlie, people were so friendly! And, no, I do not feel guilty about using my baby as a political tool.

Me, Charlie, and my friend, Elisa, "canvassing" the neighborhood this morning

Erik enjoyed it so much that he stayed out even after I had to take Charlie home for his nap!

Here's how it all played out -

Doors Slammed in Face: 2 (All Charlie's fault since he was asleep in the stroller.)
People Who Asked if Charlie was on the Ballot: 1
Greasy Men Who Hit on Us: 2
Houses Decorated with Ugly Americana Stuff in Front Yard: 4
People Who Agreed With Us: Too many to count! (It is Kern County after all.)

HOW TO SUCCESSFULLY TAKE YOUR TODDLER TO A RESTAURANT

Luke, Erik and Charlie at Sambo's last week.
This picture was taken just minutes before a major meltdown.

1. Don't do it. You're an idiot if you think your 2 year old is going to sit there and carry-on intelligent dinner conversation with you. He doesn't sit at the table for more than ten minutes at home. So, why will he sit at a restaurant for an hour? This will not end well, no matter what you think.

2. If you ignore Tip #1, or are pressured into going out to eat by relatives and/or friends, try to act like everything is normal when your toddler is throwing a tantrum because he can't get down and explore his new surroundings. Make people think that it is more of an honor for them to get to have your child disrupt their dinner than the annoyance it really is. Say things like, "Isn't he so gosh darn cute?" when he throws his food on the floor and screams in their ears. This might work if you say it a lot.

3. Be grateful when your toddler climbs under the table because then you can act like this bad experience isn't happening to you. The other customers will think you are just a normal family out for dinner if they can't see him. Booths work best for this kind of behavior because you and your husband can use your legs to block your toddler's exit without drawing too much attention to yourselves. Don't trick yourself into thinking the restaurant floor is worse than your kitchen floor at home. At least they clean theirs everyday.

4. Be prepared to buy an overpriced peanut butter and jelly sandwich for $7,99 that your toddler won't eat.

5. The only way that you might be able to keep your toddler at the table for more than five minutes is by giving him lots of sugar, i.e., chocolate milk, hot chocolate, chocolate sundaes, chocolate cough drops, etc. Let him drink the coffee creamers. Heck, let him drink coffee if he wants to. Yes, it will make him sick. Yes, it will give him an awful sugar high (and low) that you'll have to deal with later. Yes, it is unethical. However, none of that matters when you are in the moment. Just do what you have to do to keep him there with you.

Luke out with Gramma and family in Solvang.
I believe he's on his 10th cup of hot chocolate in this picture.

6. Be happy, even if you have to pretend. Remember that you are the idiot who is paying for the experience of taking your toddler out to eat. So you better enjoy it. If someone else is paying for you, then you should of used the money that you would have spent on dinner for a babysitter.

MICHAEL PHELPS COULD HAVE BEEN MY HUSBAND

Watching the Olympics this week reminds me of the time when Erik tried to go to the Olympics. He could have been the next Michael Phelps for all we know, which means that I could have been married to "Michael Phelps."

It was 2004 and before we had kids, so we were fancy free and anything seemed possible. Erik sat down with me one day and said, "I really want to go to the Olympics. " So, naturally, we discussed all the sports that were a possibility, aiming for Beijing in 2008.

Weightlifting? Too heavy.
Swimming? Too much work.
Running? Too much training.
Judo? Too obscure.

After going through the list, we decided that sailing would be Erik's best ticket to Beijing in 2008. Erik reviewed the requirements and thought it could be a possibility because of his mad sailing skills. The only problems being that a) he did not have a boat and b) he did not have money. (Note that I did not list the slim chance that he would actually make it to the Olympics as a problem.)

Erik and his friend, Jared, found an Olympic class sailboat for $1,000 in the classifieds, and they drove all the way from Provo to Sacramento in one day to fetch it. When they got there, it looked worse than this -


... and it had a broken hull.

Erik and Jared then proceeded to find sponsors to make their Olympic dream possible. I, in the meantime, was working on getting my passport renewed so that I could travel to China to cheer them on in 2008.

Tahitian Noni agreed to meet with them and Erik spent hours putting together their presentation for sponsorship. He estimated that they would need a total of $200,000 to make their Olympic campaign a reality. Tahitian Noni said they would give them all "the product" (aka juice) they wanted for free. Since you can't get to the Olympics by juice alone (no matter how "life altering" it might be), they looked for other sponsors, but nothing came to fruition, and their Olympic dream faded.

Damn you, Tahitian Noni.

DO YOU WANT TO BE MY FRIEND? CONFIRM OR IGNORE

I just received an email from my dear friend, Facebook, telling me -

"You are now in a relationship with Erik Lassen."

Whew, finally. I was wondering about that.

Erik decided a few days ago to sign up for Facebook, which meant that I had to sign up too. Especially since he started taunting me with threats like, "I am totally going to have more friends than you!" Great, just what I need. Another time waster on the internet only to prove my husband wrong.

The funny thing is that most of these people aren't real friends. Erik claims otherwise, but on my list, I haven't spoken to most of these people for years. Do they even remember me? If we were in public, would we say "hello" or pretend that we didn't know each other? Do they count as a friend if we were introduced once at a party ten years ago? It's funny how I have such a desire to find people from my past, know they are alive, but not really talk to them. Just like Slydial and blogging, this is yet another way to communicate, without really communicating.

MOVIE REVIEW: MAMMA MIA!

Dear Mr. Brosnan:

Although we have never met, please permit me to call you Pierce.

So, Pierce, I saw Mamma Mia! last week and have needed some time to think about it. It's kind of like when one witnesses some funny accident where the victim isn't hurt, only embarrassed. That's how I felt about your movie.

Listen, man, I can totally relate. I have an awful singing voice. When I was a kid, my mom made me enroll in music day camp for a few summers. The director felt compelled to give every kid a solo who auditioned, even if it was just a few lines in a medley. I was ridiculously bad, and I knew it. That was only in front of a couple hundred people, and poor you, this movie has been seen by millions, worldwide.

I hope it makes you feel better to know that my husband finds your singing voice "endearing." He loved the movie more than I did, (that's why I married him). We've had a lot of fun singing along with "SOS" on ABBA Gold and imitating your voice. Good times... good times.



Admittedly, the movie is starting to grow on me, especially because I can't get the songs out of my head. I just wish there could of been a little more character development and better directing. Some of those film shots were pretty goofy.

Who am I kidding? I love cheesy dance numbers and ABBA!

As for you, Pierce, I know you tried your best. That's all that matters. Besides, with a career like yours, who cares?

Sincerely,

Cristin

P.S. Do you know where Amanda Seyfried's bathing suit in this scene came from? Not like I'm going to look like her in it, but I wouldn't mind trying it on. Thanks.

I LOVE SLYDIAL

I learned about Slydial last week and my world has never been the same!

Slydial is a free service that connects you directly to someone's mobile voicemail so that you can avoid talking to them without looking like a jerk. Brilliant!

I hate awkward conversations. Whether it be with a family member, friend, stranger, WHOEVER, so this is perfect for me. A-ha! I'm so sneaky.

Here are some sample messages I am certain to be leaving in the near future:

"Hey Alchoholly! It's Cristin. Wow, I'm so sorry that I missed you. I really wanted to talk to you. Oh well, hope you're doing great. Too-ta-loo!"

"Hey, Lady Who Keeps Calling Me to Watch Her Kids at the Last Minute! Wow, I'm so sorry that I missed you. I really wanted to talk to you. I'm available to watch your kids right now, but since you didn't answer, I guess I won't be able to. Darn! Talk to you soon!"

"Hey 'Friend' Who Wants Me to Sell Pampered Chef. Wow, I'm sorry I missed you. I really wanted to talk to you. Looks like we're playing phone tag. Call me! "

"Hey, Erik. I want to buy this new furniture, but you're not picking up! Shoot. I guess I'll just go ahead and buy it. I really wish you would answer your phone so we could talk about it. Love ya!"

The list goes on forever....

I may sound like a jerk to some people, but I know you've been there, praying that someone would not pick up their phone when you call. My prayers have been answered. Thank you, Slydial, you're 'da bomb.

GOODBYE WEDDING RING

It all started with a bee.

While we were camping* last week I got stung by a bee on my ring finger. I didn't think much of it until the following day when it swelled up like a balloon and my wedding ring was stuck. I thought about leaving it on, but Ben (Erik's cousin who is a surgeon) insisted that I needed to get it off.

First, Ben tried to wrap my finger really tightly with dental floss, just like he does with the unconscious people at the hospital. That hurt really bad. (Remember, I had a baby at home in my bedroom. So when I say something hurts, it really hurts.) It didn't help that I had a little group around me as Ben tried to "operate." After about five minutes, I couldn't take it anymore and asked that we just go to a jeweler and cut it off.

Erik was like, "Whoa. You're actually going to cut off your ring? The ring I gave you! The ring I sold a sailboat for!" I've never thought of myself as a sentimental person, but it did make me feel kind of bad. That ring and I have been through a lot during the past seven years. However, it hurt really bad. I didn't really feel like I had a choice.

Besides, I figured what better place to get a ring cut off your finger than in Santa Barbara!

We headed on down to the jeweler. She couldn't do it. The surgeon wouldn't do it.

So, Erik, stepped in and cut it off. What a man.

It's difficult to tell in this picture how huge my finger was, but it was big. I know a jeweler can repair my ring, but since it always got caught on things, maybe now I can lower the ring a little and change the setting. I know that changing my wedding ring is more practical than sentimental, but the diamonds would be the same... unless of course Erik wanted to add some more diamonds to it... hint, hint.

*More about that later. It's going to take some time to compose my thoughts and pictures.

THE SMARTCYCLE

Is your kid fat, lazy and stupid? Then you need, The Smartcycle!

Have you ever seen this thing? It's an educational video game arcade system that works while your child is pedaling. Genius. I couldn't get Luke off the thing in Toys 'R Us. Since I'm too cheap to buy it, I will just make him run in place while I put homemade flashcards in front of him. Same idea.

Too bad the little boy in the demonstration video wasn't overweight. They could do a before and after type thing and probably sell more.

I COULDN'T SAY I WAS SAD

The Friday before we went to Redondo Beach, while in Bakertucky for some doctors appointments, the Noisy Truck broke down. I couldn't say I was sad.

It was actually very exciting. We were on the freeway, chugging along, when suddenly all the electricity went out, and then the car stopped working. We coasted up the off ramp, turned a corner, and parked on the side of the road. We took out our handy little GPS, found a tow company around the block, and they picked us up within 10 minutes. Luke was excited because he was able to ride in an even bigger and louder truck (the tow truck) all the way home.

You'll probably have to enlarge this picture to see my face, but I was really happy that it broke down! I like the utility of the truck, but it is just way too much vehicle for me. All the way up the mountain, I was sitting in the back of the tow truck thinking about how great it will be to not have to drive the Noisy Truck anymore. What a blessing that it broke down! Maybe I could get a Jetta!

Then my dreams were smashed when Erik fixed it that same evening. It now runs fine. Thanks a lot, Erik.

I'M NOT A WOMAN ANYMORE, I'M A MOM

So, you've all seen the "Mom Jeans" skit on Saturday Night Live, right? The other day Erik told me that my new shorts from Old Navy looked like Mom Jeans.

The Offending Pair of Shorts

The really bad thing was that I knew he was right. I could just feel while I was wearing them that they were not flattering, yet I continued to wear them. This is how I feel about all my clothes. I feel like I am drowning in a sea of Mom Jeans and there is nothing I can do about it.

When I say, Mom Jeans, I mean "Mom" clothes in general. I know that some of you will say, "What's wrong with dressing like a mom?" Perhaps part of it is being 30. However, look at those Desperate Housewives ladies. They are all well over 30 and they don't wear Mom Jeans.

Last week I visited my grandmother. Like usual, five minutes into the visit I was covered in poop and spit up. My wardrobe has turned into 5 colored t-shirts that I pair with ugly shorts or capris. When I go to the store to buy more clothes, I keep buying the same ugly stuff. I can't help myself. I don't know what to do or how to break the cycle of buying such ugly clothes.

According to this article, "The fear of failure is one of the main reasons women end up buying more nasty mom jeans." I'm sure that kind of reasoning could apply to my entire wardrobe.

[Speaking of clothes, I used hairspray, oxyclean, baking soda and detergent to get the stains out and it worked! Thanks everyone for the help!]

GOT NOTHING IN MY POCKET

I'm home. Vacation over. Too bad. So sad.

Do you remember when songs used to touch your soul? Like in 2nd grade when I heard Madonna sing "Crazy for You," I felt like she was expressing the inner most thoughts of my heart about my crush on some boy I now can't remember.

It's very rare these days that a song does that for me. I really liked Redondo Beach. It's only 2 hours from our house, but since we rarely go to that area of L.A. it felt like a fun little vacation for us. As I was driving out of town I heard the song, "Beverly Hills" by Weezer. I've never liked that song, but at that moment I felt like it described exactly how I was feeling. I want to live within walking distance of the beach, but it's too expensive and we're too poor. Oh, the injustice.

We especially liked the area where my mom grew up. It was a short 10 minute drive from our hotel, so we drove around and explored her old neighborhood. We got dinner and ate it at this nearby park:

Look at this picture. These kids are practicing football. I want to practice football with a view of the ocean. The view from the park is absolutely gorgeous. You can see Catalina Island. I wonder if these kids even notice it or they just take it for granted because they see it every day. This photo really doesn't do the view justice. The different shade of blue towards the bottom is the ocean. Catalina is to the left.


Erik said, "Wow, I'd really like to live here, so that means we can't afford it." Why is that always the case with us? True, we could live in a big fancy house on the beach and be unhappy. I would really like to get a chance to test that theory.

I know that it doesn't really matter where you live, as long as you are with people you love. Attitude makes all the difference. Home is where the heart is. (What other cliché can I come up with to try and make myself feel better about living out here?) I know I sound materialistic and ungrateful. Just let me feel this way tonight, and I know I'll have a better outlook in the morning.

Here's some random pictures -

Here we are trying to fit in with all the rich people at the park and not look so white trash. It was hard.

Luke smiling at the camera. A rare picture.

This is how we roll when it's just me and the kiddos out for a walk.

Erik and Luke on the pier. I was so worried that Luke would try to climb off the side and he didn't.