So in an attempt to make my blog more personal (as if the details of my husband's dirty laundry...literally...see here...aren't personal enough) I decided to add a profile photo to the blog page. Ugh.
It's not that I'm hiding anything from you, my dear and faithful readers. But I am not a camera person. I don't like having my picture taken. Actually, despise, loathe, dread, run screaming in a zig-zag pattern from anyone holding a camera would be more apt. I never take a good picture. Ever. And whenever someone manages to talk (bribe, threaten or beat) me into posing for a picture, I end up looking like a squinty-eyed munchkin. Oh, I'm also short...there's more personal info for you.
Anyway, so perhaps you can imagine the hours of angst that my simple, "gee, I should have a picture on the blog" resulted in. I have been through years of stored digital photos, watched my kids grow up in slideshow format and still couldn't find a picture I wouldn't mind sharing. True of the thousands of photos I looked at I was only in about ten of them, but still there wasn't a good one in any of those lonely ten. I was pretty much left with the "just had a baby" pictures (no one should see that), the tear streaked "my husband just returned from war" and a few scary red-eyed "who is going to clean up this mess" holiday pictures.
What's a shy, camera-phobic blogger to do? Fortunately there's an app for that. Well, not an app. Clip art. Click, click, click and voila...there's me up in the corner. Me if I were blonde, skinny and animated. The chocolate cake is about right though.
So there you go, now you can put a face to the funny. Unless it's not funny in which case I'm glad it isn't a real picture because if you actually knew me and didn't like me I'd probably cry.
Showing posts with label oops. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oops. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Deep Down I Still Want to be Cool
Not that I was ever supremely cool to begin with. But sometimes my inner rock star desperately wants to make an appearance...somewhere between the homeschooling, the mini-van driving and the grocery shopping. Just a little bit. I don't want to recapture my youth (good Lord no! Anyone who says that may not remember high school clearly enough) and I don't want to jump into some wildly age-inappropriate outfit and try to figure out how to look like I belong in a vintage record store. But every once in a while I'd like to feel...hmmm...not quite so old. Is that fair?
Well, last month I got to do just that. And it was all thanks to Major Dad.
The story starts way back in December, right before Christmas. I went to the mall to get shoes for the kids (cause there was a sale and I had a coupon...that's the "old" me part of the story). Well, in the parking lot I had a boo-boo. A pretty big boo-boo. I was pulling forward through the parking space and I scraped against the neighboring car. And not only did I scrape against it, I managed to pull my bumper almost entirely off. Yeah, oops.
I left a note with all my information and told the kids about being responsible and all that, but I felt rotten. Just rotten. Major Dad earned bonus points because he asked if I was ok and told me "accidents happen" before he laughed at me.
Anyway, the car needed lots of work. Lots. So I ended up with a rental car. A nice, economical Chevy Impala. Blech. But, the rental car person wasn't having the best day so not only did she accidentally charge me $100 when she shouldn't have, the gas tank was also on empty. And, she left all of her rental car keys in the Impala when she let me drive off. So I left with the keys to all of the cars on her lot. And you thought you had some bad days. Well, of course I returned the keys to her as soon as I noticed them, but Major Dad was not pleased with the customer service. So, being major Dad he called and had a "talking to" with the company.
And voila...upgrade.
I felt awful about it (because I'm allergic to confrontation), but I went anyway to get the upgrade.
This upgrade....
That's right, a brand spankin' new Dodge Charger as specifically requested by Major Dad. He knows me so well. And I got to drive it for three whole days. Three days of rolling down the highway in a muscle car. Vroom. True I had two kids in the back and I spent most of the time saying things like "do NOT drop your Cookie Crisp on the floor this car doesn't belong to us." But still, it was a fun three days.
Well, last month I got to do just that. And it was all thanks to Major Dad.
The story starts way back in December, right before Christmas. I went to the mall to get shoes for the kids (cause there was a sale and I had a coupon...that's the "old" me part of the story). Well, in the parking lot I had a boo-boo. A pretty big boo-boo. I was pulling forward through the parking space and I scraped against the neighboring car. And not only did I scrape against it, I managed to pull my bumper almost entirely off. Yeah, oops.
I left a note with all my information and told the kids about being responsible and all that, but I felt rotten. Just rotten. Major Dad earned bonus points because he asked if I was ok and told me "accidents happen" before he laughed at me.
Anyway, the car needed lots of work. Lots. So I ended up with a rental car. A nice, economical Chevy Impala. Blech. But, the rental car person wasn't having the best day so not only did she accidentally charge me $100 when she shouldn't have, the gas tank was also on empty. And, she left all of her rental car keys in the Impala when she let me drive off. So I left with the keys to all of the cars on her lot. And you thought you had some bad days. Well, of course I returned the keys to her as soon as I noticed them, but Major Dad was not pleased with the customer service. So, being major Dad he called and had a "talking to" with the company.
And voila...upgrade.
I felt awful about it (because I'm allergic to confrontation), but I went anyway to get the upgrade.
This upgrade....
That's right, a brand spankin' new Dodge Charger as specifically requested by Major Dad. He knows me so well. And I got to drive it for three whole days. Three days of rolling down the highway in a muscle car. Vroom. True I had two kids in the back and I spent most of the time saying things like "do NOT drop your Cookie Crisp on the floor this car doesn't belong to us." But still, it was a fun three days.
Monday, June 6, 2011
This Time It Wasn't My Fault
Really! I was all fired up to be back at the blog, I had a bunch of first drafts of future posts, I was feeling inspired and then...lightening struck. No, seriously lightening. I'm not being metaphorical this time. We had a big thunderstorm about two weeks ago and BOOM! We got hit by lightening. Not me personally, that would be an entirely different kind of post, but our house. I could Google the odds of your house getting struck by lightening, but I'm pretty sure it's some ridiculous derivative of pi multiplied by a whole bunch of zeroes and divided by the number of things you really want to get done online.
Anyway, here's the story. Major Dad was home and it was kidlet bath time. He had Jack in the shower (because Major Dad doesn't do baths) and there was a nasty thunderstorm raging outside. Now, I actually like thunderstorms so I was enjoying the sound effects. Then there was a loud thunder clap followed by a really, and I mean REALLY, loud crack. Major Dad and I looked at each other with expressions that silently said, "Uh-oh." And then we promptly told the kids that everything was fine.
Since Major Dad had his hands full of soapy child, I put on my shoes and went to investigate. I didn't see anything smoking or on fire so I went back inside. Maybe not a thorough investigation but hey, it was raining. Later that night we discovered that the electronics in our office were dead. It was an mechanical massacre. The surge protector had been completely overloaded, the breaker blew, our dsl modem was toasted and the laser printer was fried. Praise the Lord that no one was hurt and our house is fine. And I am beyond happy that we had rearranged the basement and that my brand new computer was in a different room and on a different plug.
So after almost two weeks of living off the grid...foraging for information nuts and berries in the wilderness of a no-internet wasteland, we got our new modem and are back online. Unfortunately the printer is still dead. Major Dad has taken it apart (it kind of looks like an autopsy on R2D2) and is trying valiantly to fix it.
See, not my fault...this time.
Anyway, here's the story. Major Dad was home and it was kidlet bath time. He had Jack in the shower (because Major Dad doesn't do baths) and there was a nasty thunderstorm raging outside. Now, I actually like thunderstorms so I was enjoying the sound effects. Then there was a loud thunder clap followed by a really, and I mean REALLY, loud crack. Major Dad and I looked at each other with expressions that silently said, "Uh-oh." And then we promptly told the kids that everything was fine.
Since Major Dad had his hands full of soapy child, I put on my shoes and went to investigate. I didn't see anything smoking or on fire so I went back inside. Maybe not a thorough investigation but hey, it was raining. Later that night we discovered that the electronics in our office were dead. It was an mechanical massacre. The surge protector had been completely overloaded, the breaker blew, our dsl modem was toasted and the laser printer was fried. Praise the Lord that no one was hurt and our house is fine. And I am beyond happy that we had rearranged the basement and that my brand new computer was in a different room and on a different plug.
So after almost two weeks of living off the grid...foraging for information nuts and berries in the wilderness of a no-internet wasteland, we got our new modem and are back online. Unfortunately the printer is still dead. Major Dad has taken it apart (it kind of looks like an autopsy on R2D2) and is trying valiantly to fix it.
See, not my fault...this time.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
You Know It's Going to be One of Those Days When....
You misspell your own name. Twice.
I feel like I could just leave the post like that and move on with my life, but you, my dear and faithful readers probably deserve more of an explanation than that. Otherwise you might really start to worry about me.
So I sat down today at my trusty pink laptop (yes, it is pink) and prepared to dutifully write a post filled with encouragement and inspiring faith-filled...uh...words. Right, lots of awesomely strung together words. I typed all my super-secret info into my Blogger log-in page, my mind whirling with the many possibilities of the aforementioned awesome words, when I was suddenly confronted with Blogger's "Nope, wrong answer" message.
It's actually a much more professional message, something along the lines of "We're sorry, your username and/or password are incorrect so you will not be allowed to enter this highly sensitive world of tossing random opinions into the universe under the cover of anonymity until you remember who you are and/or locate the coffee stained napkin you scrawled your password on." You know, something like that.
So with a grumble and a sigh I looked at my username, which happens to be my email address, and realized that I spelled my name wrong. My own name. Fabulous. So after a furious click-clacking of the backspace button, I re-entered my info and was was promptly denied. Again.
"We're sorry, you're still wrong. Clearly the burden of remembering one more username and password is too much for you. May we suggest that you legally change your name to log-in and begin tattooing passwords on your arms so you no longer have to rely on a memory that is slowly being eroded away, even though we're pretty sure you still remember most of the lyrics to The Facts of Life theme song. Feel free to try again, but we're pretty sure you're going to embarrass yourself again."
Anyway, after that little pep talk, I looked again at what I had typed and realized I had misspelled my name. Again. My real name. Sigh.
This time I typed like a little old lady drives...with my head hunkered down over the keyboard, watching each finger type the keys.
And voila, success. And now all of you get to laugh at my expense. Although in fairness to me and my melting brain, it was my last name. Which I got from my husband, I mean I've only had for like 11 years. It's not like I forgot how to spell my first name or anything.
PS...Is The Facts of Life theme song stuck in your head now? Sorry.
I feel like I could just leave the post like that and move on with my life, but you, my dear and faithful readers probably deserve more of an explanation than that. Otherwise you might really start to worry about me.
So I sat down today at my trusty pink laptop (yes, it is pink) and prepared to dutifully write a post filled with encouragement and inspiring faith-filled...uh...words. Right, lots of awesomely strung together words. I typed all my super-secret info into my Blogger log-in page, my mind whirling with the many possibilities of the aforementioned awesome words, when I was suddenly confronted with Blogger's "Nope, wrong answer" message.
It's actually a much more professional message, something along the lines of "We're sorry, your username and/or password are incorrect so you will not be allowed to enter this highly sensitive world of tossing random opinions into the universe under the cover of anonymity until you remember who you are and/or locate the coffee stained napkin you scrawled your password on." You know, something like that.
So with a grumble and a sigh I looked at my username, which happens to be my email address, and realized that I spelled my name wrong. My own name. Fabulous. So after a furious click-clacking of the backspace button, I re-entered my info and was was promptly denied. Again.
"We're sorry, you're still wrong. Clearly the burden of remembering one more username and password is too much for you. May we suggest that you legally change your name to log-in and begin tattooing passwords on your arms so you no longer have to rely on a memory that is slowly being eroded away, even though we're pretty sure you still remember most of the lyrics to The Facts of Life theme song. Feel free to try again, but we're pretty sure you're going to embarrass yourself again."
Anyway, after that little pep talk, I looked again at what I had typed and realized I had misspelled my name. Again. My real name. Sigh.
This time I typed like a little old lady drives...with my head hunkered down over the keyboard, watching each finger type the keys.
And voila, success. And now all of you get to laugh at my expense. Although in fairness to me and my melting brain, it was my last name. Which I got from my husband, I mean I've only had for like 11 years. It's not like I forgot how to spell my first name or anything.
PS...Is The Facts of Life theme song stuck in your head now? Sorry.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
As Honest As It Gets
So once again I have apparently abdicated my heavy blogging responsibilities. And once again I have been stalked, harassed, badgered, cajoled and teased for not posting. And yes, once again I'm very, very sorry. Bad blogger (smacking my hand). So what's my excuse? Don't have one. I honestly couldn't think of anything to say. Which is weird, I know, since there are people who actually pay me to write stuff. Go figure.
See, Major Dad was gone for a month on a training exercise, and it rained...alot...so the kids and I were stuck inside and I just felt overwhelmed in general. So my pet blogging project got shuffled repeatedly to the bottom of my to do list. And honestly the bottom of my to do list is the equivalent of chore Siberia. But, because I currently fear for my blogger safety (I'm looking at you, Shelly!) and because my darling hubby won't stop teasing me about being a slacker...here I am, ready once again to bring laughter and wisdom and adorable anecdotes to the blogosphere.
Sooooo...um, let's see. Well, there was this time, uh....hmmm...oh, I found this great site, wait no I didn't. Nope, I got nothing. You know what I've been doing these past 2 months? Painting my nails and making chocolate desserts. That's right, life in the fast lane, people.
See, Major Dad was gone for a month on a training exercise, and it rained...alot...so the kids and I were stuck inside and I just felt overwhelmed in general. So my pet blogging project got shuffled repeatedly to the bottom of my to do list. And honestly the bottom of my to do list is the equivalent of chore Siberia. But, because I currently fear for my blogger safety (I'm looking at you, Shelly!) and because my darling hubby won't stop teasing me about being a slacker...here I am, ready once again to bring laughter and wisdom and adorable anecdotes to the blogosphere.
Sooooo...um, let's see. Well, there was this time, uh....hmmm...oh, I found this great site, wait no I didn't. Nope, I got nothing. You know what I've been doing these past 2 months? Painting my nails and making chocolate desserts. That's right, life in the fast lane, people.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
The Dog Ate My Blog
"Knock, knock..."
(peering timidly around the corner)
"Anybody here?"
(crickets chirping in the distance)
Ahem. Soooooo...been a while, huh? You're looking good. Have you been working out? How 'bout them...uh...sports team that you root for?
Ok, I know, I know. A blogger should blog. Hence the er part of blogger. (hanging my head in shame...really, I am...it's kinda pitiful) I'm sorry. I have a whole list of excuses, some of which I will share, but I hope you, my faithful readers will forgive me.
Unless it's been so long that you're looking at this blog title with a polite, but slightly confused smile, trying to figure out who I am and if you should know me. Kind of like a high school reunion. It's ok, just smile and nod and sip your punch, eventually the dj will play something we all know and it will be just like old times.
So 9 months of blogging silence summed up in one grammatically incorrect sentence...husband came home from combat (all fingers, toes and other body parts accounted for, Praise the Lord!), finished homeschooling 2nd grade, frantic summer family fun, adopted a dog and started homeschooling 3rd grade and preschool. Toss in a few meltdowns, a lot of chocolate and you get the picture.
And now, back by popular demand...the blog resumes! Well, maybe not popular demand. Pretty much just a few really sweet, and persistent friends (I'm looking at you, Shelly & Nora!) But how about that last post, huh? "Waiting like David." Get it? Waiting...cause you know, I made you wait for so long. It was accidental irony...the best kind. Ha ha! Oh, right, only funny to me. Sorry.
So leave a comment (how do you like the new look?), say a prayer, tune in tomorrow and pass it on to your friends.
(peering timidly around the corner)
"Anybody here?"
(crickets chirping in the distance)
Ahem. Soooooo...been a while, huh? You're looking good. Have you been working out? How 'bout them...uh...sports team that you root for?
Ok, I know, I know. A blogger should blog. Hence the er part of blogger. (hanging my head in shame...really, I am...it's kinda pitiful) I'm sorry. I have a whole list of excuses, some of which I will share, but I hope you, my faithful readers will forgive me.
Unless it's been so long that you're looking at this blog title with a polite, but slightly confused smile, trying to figure out who I am and if you should know me. Kind of like a high school reunion. It's ok, just smile and nod and sip your punch, eventually the dj will play something we all know and it will be just like old times.
So 9 months of blogging silence summed up in one grammatically incorrect sentence...husband came home from combat (all fingers, toes and other body parts accounted for, Praise the Lord!), finished homeschooling 2nd grade, frantic summer family fun, adopted a dog and started homeschooling 3rd grade and preschool. Toss in a few meltdowns, a lot of chocolate and you get the picture.
And now, back by popular demand...the blog resumes! Well, maybe not popular demand. Pretty much just a few really sweet, and persistent friends (I'm looking at you, Shelly & Nora!) But how about that last post, huh? "Waiting like David." Get it? Waiting...cause you know, I made you wait for so long. It was accidental irony...the best kind. Ha ha! Oh, right, only funny to me. Sorry.
So leave a comment (how do you like the new look?), say a prayer, tune in tomorrow and pass it on to your friends.
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