Category Archives: Humor

A Life Lesson, The Easy Way

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tom sawyer

We have a huge pecan tree in our yard.  And when I say huge, I really mean it — as in if it fell, our house would be reduced to rubble.  Every 2 to 3 years, the pecan tree decides to drop thousands of pecans all over the yard.  The squirrels, in these years, do a little happy dance knowing their future is secure.  But for me, I feel compelled to do something about some of those nuts littering my yard.

All I wanted was the pecans in my yard picked up – or rather, to find a way to get my kids to pick up the pecans in my yard.  I didn’t expect to get a life lesson out of it, too!

Check out my latest article on ParentSociety.com

Teaching Kids About Money:  A Life Lesson, The Easy Way.

Bag Lady Goes a Job Hunting

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I have been job hunting. And when I say “job hunting”, I mean random-resume-submissions-online-from-which-no-result-occurs.  However, finally, I received a phone call requesting my presence at an interview…with, like, people and stuff.

The fact that I had not been on an actual job interview in a ‘coons age (Country-slang for a long, long, loooong time) should have paralyzed me with fear, but I confess it did not.

On the day of the interview, I selected my clothing carefully – dress, nylons, heels, the whole works – and packed them into my car to be changed into after I ran to the hair salon to have my emerging grey hairs vanquished.  Possibly, this detour was the beginning of my folly. But, I tend to think it was my venue of choice for changing into my interview attire – Home Depot.

Yep, you read that right.  Apparently, a stop at Home Depot for husband was unavoidable.  But, hey, the Women’s bathroom at Home Depot is big and virtually unused. However, the moment I left the bathroom in full interview attire, my trouble began.  You see, as soon as I started tromping through the Home Depot aisles towards the exit in my high heels, I began to feel a slippage.

Ok, hold on, allow me to explain.  I hate panty hose as in; I detest the feel of the ‘panty part’ under clothes.  Therefore, I have long opted for the stocking scenario – the kind that has an elastic/rubbery band to hold them in place on your thigh.  However, not having occasion to wear stockings much, it had been a while since the last wearing of this pair.

So again, there I was marching confidently to the front of the store heading to my interview when I began to feel slippage of one of the stockings.  Quickly, I ducked behind a display of sockets to inspect the problem.  When I looked down, I found to my dismay the band of the offending stocking was bouncing, exposed around my knee!  I quickly pulled it back up and in my haste ripped a run down the entire length.

My first thought was, surely I had but failed to pull the one stocking up enough the first time. So, I can just hide the run in the back and take care to never turn around in the interviewer’s presence – it won’t look that weird when I back out of the door to leave, right?

But, I did not even it make to my car in the parking lot before the stocking band was slipping down again, now making it to my ankle.  And although the guy who tried to solicit “gas money” from me in the parking lot did not seem at all alarmed by my wardrobe malfunction, I was completely horrified.

I jumped into my car and started driving to my interview.  I began to worry.  What if the stocking starts slipping while I am trying to think of answers to the interviewer’s questions?

“What is your strategy for handling a problem?” (You mean, like, your stockings falling down in Home Depot?).

“What do you consider your strong points?”(Um, surviving this interview with droopy stockings?).

“Where do you see yourself in the future?” (Well, in the next 5 minutes, I see myself walking out of here looking like a Bag Lady with stockings puddling around my ankles).

And that was it, full-on panic took hold.

My mind began to race.  If only I would pass a drugstore on my way to the interview.  I could have just enough time to run in, grab a pair of dreaded pantyhose (not a stocking type place), change in the car and make my interview on time.  If only…

And then, like chocolate from heaven – there it was!!  A Walgreens Drugstore right off the highway – a bit of a back track from my exit, but still possible in my time frame!  I was saved!  I sped to the Walgreens, whipped into the parking lot, searched for the entrance.  It was only then I discovered it was a Walgreens Infusion and Respiratory Center.  Yeah, I have no idea what the heck that is – all I know is, they do NOT sell pantyhose…I checked.

At this point, I knew I was sunk. Going “nylon commando” was not an option as I had neglected shaving … and tanning. So, I reluctantly drove on with the top band of my stocking now getting stuck on the gas pedal when suddenly, within a block of my interview, where no self-respecting store should be, stood- like my very own “beacon of hope” – a Dollar Store.  You know, where they have dollar knick knacks, dollar pet toys, dollar toothpaste and apparently, dollar pantyhose…two pair in a pack.

A speedy superhero-like change in my car, an unavoidable flash to a guy walking by my car window (you’re welcome) and I was on my way again.

And thus, I made it to my interview on time, answered questions brilliantly, with pantyhose securely in place, completely professional and positively no Bag Lady overtones whatsoever.

Or so I thought.

For, it wasn’t until after the interview, driving home in my car, I noticed the white cat fur confidently clinging to various parts my dark colored, interview appropriate dress.

Next time, perhaps I will get dressed at home.

Or, just bring a shopping cart to the interview.

For an update go here – Bag Lady Gets a Job

Destroy This Note After Reading

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I try to be home when my kids get home from school.  It is a time I enjoy, hearing about their day, getting the skinny on happenings at school and any drama ensuing.  But, on this particular occasion last week, I knew I would not be home until a few hours past when they had arrived home.  Therefore, being the responsible, sweet and awesome Mom I am (hey, somebody has to say it), I left them a few instructions for when they arrived home and a special after school snack.

Apparently, my husband felt my note needed a few additions.  He is just lucky I love a good laugh!

Cat Meets Fish

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My son recently got a fish for a pet – three guppy fish to be exact.  We decided it was no use actually naming them until we saw how our cat, Lulubelle, was going to embrace their existence and residence in our her house. Thus, a formal introduction was arranged.

Lulubelle paced around and around the bowl.

Sniffed the contents.

Looked wide eyed at the moving objects inside.

Batted at the glass.

Tested the water with a paw.

It was touch and go there for a while.

Would the poor defenseless fish actually survive our heartless, survival-of-the fittest cat?

And then it happened.

Lulubelle stuck her head into the bowl and…

… drank the water.

cat meets fish

I am thinking, in the end, she decided it was too much work for such a small prize.

Oh and probably, she was thirsty.

Besides, Take Out Delivery is just so much more convenient.

Word-Up: We’ve Got Big Balls

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Cat

As a Mom I am ready to embrace the teen years, more to the point, the boy-teen years.  Heck, I was born ready.  Well, not really.  Actually I was born pink & squishy…and bald.  Be that as it may,  growing up with three teenage brothers must have had some lasting effect – or damage.

So, here is what I have discovered recently.  Apparently, part of being baptized into male teen-dom involves the embracing and appreciation for all humor involving anatomical innuendo (honestly, for me this is not such a hardship).  At the current stage of development, we are heavily into Balls – sport balls, that is, and all implied.  Recently, I was schooled in the infinite innuendo possibilities for the word Balls.

I believe the introductory lesson went something like this:

Mom, you know, the word ball can be pretty funny.

Oh, really, how so?

Well, at baseball practice, say we are going out to warm up and one of the guys asks me “Do you have a ball?” and I will answer, “Yeah, I have two.”

And because the mind is a terrible thing to waste – well that and never being one to leave a good innuendo well enough alone -we brainstormed some more.

Try these on for size, no pun intended (ah, what the heck),  pun intended!.

Does anyone have a ballYeah, big ones

Does anyone have a ballWhat? You don’t?

Hey, grab a ball while you are over there. You’re sick!

Always keep your eye on the ball. aaawkwaaaabrd

Basketball players have big, orange balls.

Soccer players like to kick balls.

Football players have oddly shaped balls.

Baseball players have a lot of balls.

Golfers have little tiny balls.  (sorry golfers,  just  could not resist that one).

It is not a sport without any balls.

Can someone get me some balls, I don’t have any.

And lastly,

In sports, you have to get the balls a little sweaty.

Here I thought Poop would always be the funniest word in the English Language.  I guess I should have known the shift was coming, what with the whole Weenus debacle and all.

And, don’t even get us started on the word,  Nuts.

For more word abuse, check out these earlier posts!

Word-Up: Show Me Your Weenus

Word-Up:  Poop

Word-Up: Opus Anyone?

Word-Up: Get a Yob!

Nightmare on Doddridge Street

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Ok, I confess, this is a post I wrote for Halloween last year during the first month of my SweetSpot days.  But I am thinking all ten of the followers I had at the time won’t mind the re-blog…hopefully!

Happy Halloween

Monday seemed like a normal day. Little did I know something was lurking, lying in wait for me. It started out like any other day; kids off to school, coffee hot, dog fed (thus, her own personal nightmare assuaged).  I turned on my computer, ready to work, blog, socialize, check Facebook.  And that is when the horror began as I was greeted by the words – NO INTERNET ACCESS. I took a deep breath, no need to panic, it’s probably nothing, I thought.  After all, my dog appeared unconcerned and you know how animals can “sense” things.

Very calmly, I began to work my magic…or rather, I began to work tech-guy-on-speed-dial’s magic.  But still, ACCESS DENIED.  Then tech-guy-on-speed-dial offhandedly suggested, “what about your home phone line?” (You see, us here folks out on Doddridge, a.k.a. the boonies, rely on phone lines for our DSL mojo).  I ran for my cordless phone like a chick trying to outrun a chainsaw and as in any good bad horror flick, the line was dead.

However, unlike next-to-die-screaming-teen, I still had cell phone service.

So, to the phone company I went for rescue. Harassed-phone-company-lady informed me that “they” (guys-with-huge-hacking-scissors?) had cut the lines and “no”, the DSL line would not be reconnected anytime soon because first the phone line must be repaired in order to restore 911.  But I stammered that this was a 911 – No internet, no access to the World Wide Web, NO FACEBOOK!!

Harassed-phone-company-lady, unmoved by my hysteria, hung up, leaving me once again to face the horror alone. So there I was, waiting, staring, pacing, looking out for strange-guy-in-hockey-mask; when suddenly, out of nowhere, a thought struck me.  Something my Dad used to always tell me;

“Don’t forget to stop and smell the flowers.”

I grabbed my car keys, I grabbed my dog, (because clearly, judging by her worried look, the canine sixth sense had kicked in), and we started driving – away from the dreadfulness and in search of flowers.

We didn’t find any flowers, because, well, it’s October, but we did find a pretty spectacular fall tree to hang out under.

We didn’t worry about work, we didn’t long to socialize, we didn’t angst over missed Facebook posts,

And nobody denied us access.

Boys Will Be Boys

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Boys will be boys, but how do we turn them into men?  This is a question that has been on my mind a lot lately because…

This year, for the first time, I have two boys attending Middle School. Let us just say that the start to our year has been a bit of a rocky road — like the kind you need a four wheeler for … or a tank. Don’t get me wrong, their grades are fine; good, even. They get their work done and they make an effort. The problem is they are on a quest to fulfill the saying “boys will be boys.”

That’s it.  That is all you get.  You will have to GO HERE to read the rest of the article The Secret to Raising Good Kids?  Teaching Respect  on ParentSociety.com. It will be worth it, I promise – you will laugh a little and maybe even cry a little (at my bad jokes, that is).

The Secret to Raising Good Kids?  Teaching Respect.

Are You Mom or Housekeeper?

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If you are not immediately sure of the answer to the question “Are you the Mom or the Housekeeper?” then you are in desperate need of  a personal day and my most recent article on ParentSociety.com may be just the thing: 6 Ways to Pamper Yourself During Mommy Time.

You know the moment when you are knee-deep in laundry and it occurs to you that the job of mom (or in some cases, dad) is more like the job of live-in housekeeper?

I don’t know about you, but before I became a mom, my visions of motherhood went more like little children tripping along behind me, through the grassy meadow, singing in perfect harmony. OK, that might have been “Sound of Music,” but you get my drift.

Well, whenever I begin to overly obsess on the housekeeper aspects of being a mom, which usually comes in the midst of some particularly gross job like scrubbing toothpaste globs out of the carpet, I know it is time for a personal day…

We all need some personal time every now and then. Go Here to get 6 suggestions on how you might spend it.

Go now…what are you waiting for?…the laundry will wait…I promise!

6 Ways to Pamper Yourself During Mommy Time.

Never Sit on the Couch at a Nudist Colony

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There is a guy who lives in my house.  I like to refer to this particular guy as PRE-Teen.  Truth be told, this is not the first time I have been motivated to write about PRE-Teen and his unique take on the world around him.  (A Decade of Wisdom).

Listen, I know he is my kid and therefore I am genetically programmed to think every thought he expresses is cute, amazing, hysterical, brilliant even (quick, call CNN).  But I honestly challenge you to read through the list quoting 10 of his more recent declarations and not find at least one that makes you smile, laugh or fist pump in agreement.

In the world according to PRE-Teen:

Being smart is fun and all, but I it is good to take a break.

Batman’s movies are good but Batman is a sissy Superhero because he has no actual super power and he isn’t even smart, like Ironman.  The most Batman can claim is “Manhero”.

And while on the subject…

Joker is a completely lame villain when played by anyone other than Heath Ledger.

Eating too many gummy bears gives you gummy spit.

There is nothing more completely wrong than a “Mankini”…

…except maybe a hairy man wearing a “Mankini”.

Never miss (breakfast) “the most important meal of the day” – even if that means having it for dinner.

Teachers are like tissues, they are no good once they have been used. (although, he recently added the discovery that some can be folded and used again).

Vegetables are like ice cream…except they taste bad.

And last, my own personal favorite…

Never sit on the couch at a nudist colony. (think about it)

Sometimes, following his random proclamations, a lengthy debate ensues.

But most of the time I just have to nod my head,

and agree.

(and giggle a little, too)

For other Pre-teen isms Go Here!

Teen Talk: Episode #5

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Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you another episode of  Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at home.

One day, Teen was hungry.

Teen:  “Hey Mom, could you make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

Mom: “Sure, ok”

Teen:  “And Mom, could you cut the crust off?”

Mom:  “What?  Cut the crust off?  That is something you do for little kids!”

Teen:  “I know”

Mom:  “Even when you were a little kid, I never cut the crust off.  You never asked to have the crust cut off.”

Teen:  “True…I am  finally getting up the nerve to ask…”

The End.

Teen Talk: Episode #4

Teen Talk: Episode #3

Teen Talk Episode #2

Teen Talk Episode #1

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

It’s My Birthday and I’ll Blog If I Want To.

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Today is my birthday.  Well, not my personal birthday because then we would be singing something like   “Swing Low, Sweet Chariiooott…”.  No, today is the One Year Old Birthday of my little project – Looking For The Sweet Spot.com.  Honestly, just like having a baby, I can’t believe it has actually been one year.  I guess time flies when you are having fun, or early onset senility makes time seem like it is flying… either way – it has been an experience.

For the most part, everything that has happened around Sweet Spot has surprised the heck out of me.  Surprised that I actually posted my first blog (Just Another Day In The Life). Surprised when my first Sweet Spot story was published  (I am Woman: Ode to Chris the Caveman). Completely  shocked when I woke up one morning to being Freshly Pressed on WordPress (You Deserve The Wave Today).  Surprised when I logged on to find a post gone crazy on Stumbleupon (10 Things I Just Don’t Understand).  Surprised when I was asked to join the ParentSociety.com team of writers (For Those About to Rock or Turn 40 Someday) Amazed that this post keeps getting pinned at Pinterest on a regular basis (Today’s Best Moment: Thursday, April 5).  And pretty much just blown away to have a place where  I can actually confess to killing a vacuum!

One of the most astonishing turn of events this year has been the support and heart felt shout-outs received from fellow bloggers.  Honestly, it was not expected as, lets face it, blogging often feels like everyone else is “doing it better.”  I was honored with my first award – the Sunshine Blogger Award – from one of my favorite bloggers Fadderly.com.  And then, I received several more.  The close proximity of  receipt kept me from being able to do all of these honors(except the first one)  justice at the time.

So, I decided what better way to celebrate the one year threshold than to recognize those fellow bloggers who, through their recognition, contributed to making the first year of Sweet Spot so memorable! Check them out, they are all fun, funny, informative and interesting in their own right!

Fadderly:  Hysterical Dad of 4, great artist and continues to be one of my favorite reads because I always know I am going to laugh!

(Sunshine Blogger Award)

Elixir of Memories:  At Elixer of Memories you will read about slices of life that make life fun.  You will get some laughs and special musings.

(Beautiful Blogger Award)

Beautiful Blogger Award

Mom Knows Better:  One Moms journey with her son – learning from each other, laughing, and just living life.

(Versatile Blogger Award)

versatile blogger award

Expatially Mexico:  Living in Mexico, this blogger takes wonderful photos and shares unique experiences of life and travel in a foreign country.

(Versatile Blogger Award)

Cheryl Huffer:  Cheryl writes everyday about life and living in a fun, funny, and truthful way.

(Very Inspiring Blogger Award)

The Usual Bliss:  She travels, she camps, she enjoys life, she takes the most beautiful photographs and has the cutest dog!

(Sunshine Blogger Award)

i mayfly:  A fun blogger with a killer sense of humor – she blogs about all things,  adds wonderful photos and tells it like it is.

(Versatile Blogger Award)

All Access Pass: A teacher and Mom who brings  inspiration and creativity to both jobs – and shares her great insights through her blog.

(Versatile Blogger Award)

Passport to Bliss:  She blogs about travel, photography, design – all things that bring joy to life.

(Versatile Blogger Award)

The Coffee Club:  Just what a coffee club should be – she entertainingly blogs about books she reads, projects she takes on, kids, being a Mom and all assortments of life.

(One Lovely  Blogger Award)

Sweet Jelly Bean: Here you will find all things “fun & sweetly inspired” – the little things in life worth sharing such as Mom moments, to-die-for beauty products and everything inbetween!

(Very Inspiring Blogger Award)

The Inner WildKat:  She has a passion for books, music and writing.  She can knock out a beautiful poem and also give you the best sexy girl music selections!

Happy Birthday Sweet Spot

Teen Talk: Episode #4

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Comic by K

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you a review by  Teen Talk.  I assure you, everything you are about to hear is real and unedited. Please, do not try this at home.

One day, Teen returned home from an entertainment activity, shooting zombies with a paintball gun.

Mom:  “So, how was it? Was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

Teen:  “No! It was horrible, completely lame,  a real rip-off.”

Mom:  “Really?”

Teen:  “Yeah, it was a total waste of time and money!”

Mom:  “Well, would you go to it again if it cost less money, say like half the price or something?”

Teen:  No way!  I would never do to it again.  NOT EVEN IF THEY PAID ME!!!”

(pause)

Teen:  WAIT!  Actually, they could pay me to go…but, they would have to name their price.

The End

Teen Talk: Episode #3

Teen Talk: Episode #2

Teen Talk Episode #1

For more views by Teen Go Here: Teen Talk

10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use

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So let’s just say you did something completely crazy like, oh I don’t know,  answer the wanted ad for parenting?  Wanted: A Parent. Faint Hearted Need Not Apply.  Hey, it’s ok, we all do it because there is no accounting for crazy.

But now, you may really need to check out my post on ParentSociety.com10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use.

It is the logical progression.

1.  Do something crazy like become a parent

2.  Ask for help from those who have run the gauntlet.

3.  Apply advice liberally in a trial and error fashion.

4.  Hope, plead, pray, cross fingers for the best.

Thank you to all the contributors who helped me put together the awesome list! Apparently, I not only need help with parenting, I need help compiling a list of tips to help with parenting. It is a good thing I have such wonderful (and vastly smart) friends and family!

10 Awesome Parenting Tips You’ll Actually Use

Wanted: A Parent. The Faint-Hearted Need Not Apply

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Ever wonder how a Want Ad for the job of “Parent” would read?

Well, wonder no more, just head on over to ParentSociety.com where my latest article or rather ‘want-ad’ is running today. It might be good for a laugh (or cry).

Wanted: A Parent. The Faint-Hearted Need Not Apply

Life, the Ego-Sucking Siege

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having a bad day?

Have you ever noticed how life can sometimes be a constant barrage, sucking away your ego and self-esteem bit by bit?  Yeah?  Well, I have been having one of those days weeks months (as proof I submit to you The Day I Killed the Vacuum and Why I Can Never Be a Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama).  But today, well today was like the cream of humiliation rising to the proverbial top.

Today, I had to go to my sons’ school – Teen and Pre-Teen.  Not what you might think, I was just dropping something off to Teen.  I stopped in the office to talk to the secretary, school nurse and principal.  I walked through the school, waving and saying hello to students and teachers I know.  I went into the middle school cafeteria, located Teen at his table, having lunch with all his middle-school teen friends and gave him the item I had brought for him.  I stopped to say “Hi” to Pre-Teen as he entered the lunch room with his classmates.  Lastly, I had a quick impromptu meeting with a teacher and then left the school, waving to more teachers and students as I exited the building.

Once back in the car, I headed straight to the grocery store.  Upon arrival at the store, I leaned over to pick my grocery bags and for the first time noticed that the zipper, on my ever-so-snug skinny jeans, was wide open, X- Y- Z.

Yep, that’s right, I had just cruised all over Teen-dom with my barn door flapping in the breeze. (I just know tonight I am going to have one of those naked-walking-around-school dreams.)

(sigh)

And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I marched straight into the grocery store and for some bizarre reason, bought a plant.  You know, a plant – innocent, helpless and with no idea of the horror that await it under my care. Knowing my track record with all things green (The Accidental Farmer), this venture will surely end badly for all involved – especially the plant.

And so,

The siege rages on…

How to Grow Old Gracefully

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See that cool lady in the photo?  That is my Grandmother, on her 80th birthday, riding the pink bicycle she requested as a gift.  The picture was taken shortly before she passed away. I love this picture because it will always remind me to…

Well, if you want to know the answer to that dangling statement you will have to hop on over to my recent post on ParentSociety.com,  “How to Grow Old Gracefully”.

Here is a little excerpt to tempt you:

Here is the thing; mostly I picture my personal aging journey being more like “Sunset Boulevard” than to “Driving Miss Daisy.” And what’s more, I fear I will be taken through my golden years chained and shackled like Hannibal Lector in “Silence of the Lambs.”

However… bear with me here because I think I may actually have figured something out for once about How to Grow Old Gracefully!

Go here to find out what I think I may have, with the help of my beautiful Grandma, figured out about how to grow old gracefully!  You might be glad you did…

“How to Grow Old Gracefully”

Other musings on age: “Is There Life After 40?”

Why I Can Never Be a Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama

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hoochie mama

I have recently been in the unenviable position of seeking employment. Honestly, in this economy it’s a bit of a futile trek uphill.  It doesn’t help that in my job life I have jumped all over the map. However, at this phase in my life I can pretty much rule out a few occupations:

A Vampire – I mean, Bella makes it look pretty cool but seriously, how great could it be having to drink animal blood for an eternity?

A Doctor – apparently you need some kind of special license for that job or something.

And after my experience last week, A Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama is now permanently off the list (and I am just sick over the lost tips wages).

How could such an admirable career goal be dashed with one experience?  Well, let me explain.

Last week, I had an appointment with the dermatologist to have a little, itty bitty, teeny tiny cyst removed – a cyst that was trying hard to mind its own business but made the doctor nervous nonetheless.  Apparently, the whole idea of someone coming near me with a knife freaks me out (Thank you Nightmare on Elm Street) because the closer to the appointment it got the more nervous I became – to the point where I could not sleep the night before and was a bundle of jittery goop by the time I arrived at the office on “the day.”  However, the Doctor assured me once the numbing agents were in place, I wouldn’t feel a thing and it would be no big deal. Low and behold, he was right – that numbing stuff is the bomb!  So I settled down and prepared for an easy experience feeling proud of my Spartan Woman level of bravery.

But then I began to hear something– snip, snip, snip, snip.

Doc:  “I know you can hear the ‘snipping’ but don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

Um, too late.

It was pretty much a quick toboggan ride downhill from there.

Me: “Doc, you should know, I feel kinda sick at the moment.”

That statement was instantly followed by cold sweats, light headedness, the urge to hurl, and the involuntary desire to pass out – which I would have done had I not already been lying down with my feet now so very attractively hiked up in the air and the AC cranked down to Arctic proportions. Right then and there I knew I had pretty much blown my whole “I am woman hear me roar” status so I tried to concentrate on preserving what dignity I had left. And then finally, after an eternity, the ordeal was over.  Ok, it only took, like, 10 minutes, but it felt as if I had watched Dr. Zhivago…twice.

Later, as I lay on the recovery table of shame, the Doctor came in the room to check on me.

Doc:  “How do you feel?”

Me:  “Fine” (I lied, no sense in enhancing  my newly acquired wimp status).

Doc:  “Hey, look at the bright side…”

What, there is a bright side?  I’m not as big a wimp as it seems?  I won’t be trying to live down my behavior for the rest of our doctor/patient relationship?  I really am the Spartan Woman I momentarily believed myself to be??

Doc:  “…At least you didn’t puke on my shoes.”

Yeah, ok, I guess I will take what I can get.

But, clearly, the boob job required for me to ever acquire the rack needed for Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama employment is unequivocally off the table.

There goes that “special skill.”

Today I go back to the Doctor get my stitches out.  I hope Doc chooses his shoes accordingly.

The Day I Killed the Vacuum

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I hate vacuums.  I can’t even express how much I dislike all vacuums. Vacuums have been a plague on my life (no drama at my house).    No matter how many vacuums I purchase, or how much money I pay for them, it is always the same story.  They don’t pick up what they should, like dirt and animal hair. But oh yes, they love to pick up what they shouldn’t, like the carpet corners and their own chords.   And speaking of the chord, is it my fault that my vacuum chord always ends up a mass of black electrical tape to fix the places where the vacuum has continually sucked up its own appendage and stripped it clean?  Shouldn’t a self-respecting vacuum be more discerning?  Eventually, my vacuums always end up spitting more dust than they pick up. And don’t even get me started on the new and improved “bagless” vacuum. Because changing a bag every once in a while was so much more inconvenient than having to manually dump the disgusting contents from the canister into the trash (as dust flies everywhere) on a regular basis!

Anyway, on the day in question, my current vacuum/bane-of-my-existence clearly crossed the line.  Now, it is only fair to point out this was not my first indiscretion where machines are concerned.  There was the time with the smoke alarm (Woman vs. Machine).  However, trust me, this time the machine really had it coming.

Last week, I was up to my neck in a heinous vacuum job involving the eradication of a summer’s worth of dead and live, scurrying spiders. It was near the end of the job when the vacuum chose to jump (ok, it might have fallen) off the step it was perched on, thus dislodging the nearly full “bagless vacuum” canister and spilling contents all over the floor.  In that instant, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the vacuum’s time had come.  And, ok, I will admit it…I was a tad peeved, and maybe a little pms, and possibly temporarily off my rocker.

Whatever the case,  the annihilation began as I kicked the offending machine…several times.  Lacking the desired results, I then proceeded to take the vacuum apart piece by piece and throw each piece violently out the back door onto the concrete driveway.  I swear I heard the sweet sound of cracking plastic and dislodging mechanisms.  The attack was only complete when the main vacuum unit was sent skittering across the driveway to its final resting place, lodged partially under a parked car.

Around this time, my sons, hearing the ensuing brawl, came to investigate.

Teen: “Uh, Mom, what are you doing?”

Me:  “Killing the vacuum.”

Preteen:  “Need any help with that?”

Me: “No thanks, I think I’ve got it covered.”

Then, I shed tears – not for the vacuum now lying scattered all over the driveway like the Scarecrow after the Flying Monkeys had their fun – but for the dusty, bug infested mess left in its wake that had to now be manually cleaned up and just out of good old frustration.  And that my friends, was the end of the vacuum, or so I thought.

For you see, sometime later that day, I looked outside to see Preteen collecting up all the scattered vacuum parts. And when next I looked out the window, there sat my vacuum on the back porch fully reassembled (and I am completely sure it was snickering at me).

I left it sitting on the back porch hoping it was reflecting on its bad behavior and fairly certain of its demise as a result of the onslaught.  However, the time came when pet hair in the house began to clump and blow in front of me like tumbleweeds in the Nevada desert.  Dreading the thought of facing yet another new vacuum purchase, to the porch I went to drag the vacuum back in the house, hoping it could, albeit inadequately, still to do its job.

That afternoon, when Preteen came home from school…

Me:  “By the way, I tried using the vacuum today and, guess what? It worked!”

Preteen:  “Really?  That is amazing!”

Me: “No Preteen, actually, you are amazing.”

Preteen smiled and then we both laughed.

As parents, it is our job to pick up our kids when they are down and put things back together for them.

But sometimes, it works the other way, too.

You Know You Live in a Small Town When…

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You know you live in a small town when…

You are sitting in your car at the bank drive-through window waiting on the lone teller  (we’ll call him Ted) to finish your transaction.  Around the corner of the bank comes the other teller heading out on her way to lunch.  She waves to you as she walks by heading to her car.  Suddenly, she doubles back and approaches your drivers side open window.

Teller:  “Paula (yes, first name basis, of course) could you give this key to Ted when he returns with your transaction receipt?”

Me:  “Ok.”

Teller:  “It is the key to open the safe to get money out.  I forgot to leave it when I left for lunch and he won’t be able to get any money for customers without it.”

Me:  “Um, yeah, sure.”

Teller:  “Thanks.” 

Me: “No problem, have a good lunch.”

And no, I did not run to the nearest Walmart to make a copy, because well, the Walmart is like everything else when you live in the boonies, far away.  Oh, and that would be a federal offense…and wrong…and very un-small-town-like.

5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”

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If your kids never, ever ask this question, wouldn’t even think asking it, would die before this question passed their lips,  then stop reading right now this instant.  However if, as I strongly suspect, your kids are like mine and fully abuse the question “How Much Longer?” , you might want to check out my latest article on ParentSociety.com,

5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”.  

Alright, already, here is the teaser…

My son has an annoying habit of constantly asking the question, “How much longer?” How much longer will something last, how much longer until we get somewhere, how much longer until something arrives, etc. (OK, it isn’t annoying, it is cute, endearing, precious, just like him … now do I get my parent-of-the-year trophy back?).

Actually, the problem isn’t just that he asks the question…

Enough?  Now, if you please, go here to get the rest of the snarky story.

5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”

Oh, and if you need further laughs on this Wednesday hump day, I recommend this short and sweet vlog –  Boy Meets Tree

For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!