Did I say that right… ‘less than’ three days? Don’t make fun of my math. It’s about as stellar as my geography.

Wasn’t keeping track, but I think I downed this six hundred and nineteen page book in less than three days flat.

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Really, it’s Good News, the musical! Our friend, Tanner, was in his HS play and I went along with my camera. It WAS a phenomenal performance by ALL the actors; very impressive! They swept their WA competition and received Top Honors last night from the 5th Avenue Theater. UPDATED EDIT: Two of my favorite pics were featured in the Woodinville Weekly newspaper this week!

Here are some of my favorite pics…

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“I know it like the back of my hand.”

Am I the only one that doesn’t know the back of my hand? I mean, when I look at it I know it’s mine, but if I had to, say, draw it without looking, I’m pretty sure I’d fail. Looking at them now, I can see that there ARE distinctive markings that probably aren’t the same as someone else. Here, I’ll take a picture (it’ll last longer) and we’ll break it down.

On my left hand, my middle finger nail bed is funky from a meat slicing incident, Halloween 2000 (may it rest in peace). Luckily my nail grew back so I don’t have to sport a snaggle-nail. Then I imagined ever since I was a little girl, that the backs of my hands pressed together in utero in a way that gave me those triangle freckles (little girls think of the craziest stuff sometimes).

Speaking of little girls… Piper calls her freckles her “beans,” even though she knows they’re actually called freckles. Here’s one of her “beans” and B.A.C.A. tattoo…
Then on my right hand I have a 6cm pink circle that’s magical. When pressed, it disappears for a short while. No, it’s not melanoma, just a funny little blood spot that I can use to amaze the gullible.

Even though I’ve taken pictures and explained, in detail, what the backs of my hands look like, I’m still not sure that I KNOW them enough to use the phrase correctly.

Q: How well do YOU know the back of your hand?

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Sometimes guys say that we (ladies) should lift the toilet seat UP when we’re done, instead of them putting it down when they’re done.

Here’s my theory:

Ladies #1 seat down
Ladies #2 seat down
Dudes #1 seat up
Dudes #2 seat down

That’s three downs to one up. Down wins.

Besides, why can’t they just SIT down for #1 to keep it cleaner?

The end.

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In my old age, I’m realizing some of my quirks that began in my childhood.

Smell is a BIG thing for me. Would that make me “smelly?”

There’s a common breath smell, it seems, amongst some non-meat eaters. Don’t get all mad at me, I’m just telling it like it is (and it’s not EVERY one). Maybe it’s because they eat foods that are more spiced and flavored to make up for the missing meat. It’s kind of a garlic smell, very tart.

Some clothes manufactured in India smell of sulfur, kind of a matches scent (which you can eventually get out with vinegar and sunshine). Years ago, I bought a pair of pieced overalls (when they were all the rage) from eBay for a pretty penny (I think they were about $60 – they were only sold in boutiques with a boutique price). They wreaked even before I got them out of the box! After all the work I put into getting the smell out, they were out of style and I never wore them. What a waste of money! (P.S. I’m embarrassed to say they’re still hanging in my closet, and it’s been over six years.)

I remember one day at college in the recreation hall (bowling alley, arcade, billiards) when I walked past a particular game that gave me a whiff of my 5th grade friends house. The smell reminded me of white bread with margarine, Pepsi, scrambled eggs, M&M’s in the camper, and fried potatoes. No other game in the room smelled, at least not as noticeable as that one.

Nostalgia… I think that’s what my smells are all about. Most of them remind me of an event from my past. Polo cologne reminds me of EVERY guy in High School (hahaha). There’s a shampoo that reminds me of our family friends, the Everett’s, in Clovis, NM. Aqua Net hairspray reminds me of Maria Mares; that girl layed ON the hairspray nozzle. Lady Fingers firecrackers reminds me of Teresa Beardain’s back yard when someone stuck them in her swing set poles and set them off (never could fish them out so the burned stench remained). A butcher shop reminds me of our old Golden Retriever, Barney; we’d bring home cow legs for him. Lavender is one of my favorite smells that’s not really associated with a particular event except that sometimes it takes me back to the time Cathy and I took our little kids down to the Young Living Farm in Mona, UT (Yardley of London lavender liquid soap specifically reminds me of Carrabba’s in Orem). Miss Teenie’s house has a certain smell that I sometimes get a whiff of at a boutique store (she’s not sure what scents she uses, but she has plug-ins, soaps, and lotions that carry through her entire 14,000 sq ft not really but it feels like it sometimes house).

The other day we realized the shower curtain liner needed to be replaced. At $3 each, you’d think we’d take care of it before HAVING to, if you know what I mean. That bathroom is so moist, pink mold and mildew is kind of inevitable… so we replace the curtain instead of going through the hassle of cleaning it (about once a year). Yes, I do feel guilty about putting it in the landfill (I am partial to being GREEN, but don’t really do much yet), but I DO recycle so that lessens the guilt a titch. Ben hung it and I couldn’t help but shove my face into the newly unveiled plastic smell. Probably not the best thing for my lungs to be absorbing, of course, but it’s crazy how happy it makes me feel (maybe it’s the toxins talking). I think that obsession started when I received my first brand new Barbie doll. They have that same stench when you first pull them out of their package. Sniff, inhale, sniff. By the time the odor wears away, I’ve gotten my fill (so it’s not like I’m obsessed to the point that I SEEK plastic things to smell).

Q: Am I weird, or is this common?

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I’ve been working out the bugs of the latest Webkinz fiasco’s for my beautiful offspring.

What I don’t get about the site is that it’s supposed to be designed for kids but I, as an intelligent and tech savvy adult, have a little trouble figuring some things out.

As I’ve been wandering around the site, I have to admit that I’ve been lured into the abyss of Webkinz land. I’ve been known to almost pass on nightly family prayer because I was in the middle of a game (last night). But if I were going to be truly honest I would admit that the only reason I didn’t pass was because I happened to die at the very moment I was given a second call to prayer. Bad mommy.

What’s worse… is when Jack came to invite me to said family prayer and saw that I couldn’t pull myself away, he said, “Geez mom. Get your OWN Webkinz!”

Pitiful, isn’t it?

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