(Insert Ear Piercing Scream Here)

It's a good ear piercing scream!  I have a Statcounter attached to my blog page. It's where I get all the information for my world famous YFMWNOEWL.  I usually check there every three or four weeks to see what people have been Googling (or Yahooing, or Binging or whatever else-ing) to get to my blog.  And I just found something that made me squee! with joy.  (Yes, I meant to type squee! and not squeal.  Squee seems so much more jubulant than squeal.)

Someone Googled "peopleofwinco.com" and got to my site.  So maybe there is a demand for this type of thing?  Hmmmmm . . . . . I know my friend Bev would be more than happy to be a contributor.  She recently took her first trip to Winco and asked me why people subjected themselves to that place.  Poor thing, she went to one in Portland, on a week day, in the afternoon. 

I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

Creative Legacy

I have been blessed to know a very dear lady named Lani.  She has helped me through so much during our brief encounters and has encouraged me through her blog.  So today, instead of blogging, I'm going to post a link to her most recent blog.  The post encouraged me in so many ways . . . . I hope it does for you, especially those of you who are creative and think no one really cares.

Creative Legacy by Lani

Let's Do Lunch

This would actually be a nice picture if she wasn't trying to look deranged in a subtle sort of way.

Yesterday Amber and I went to lunch at La Bottega.  Seriously, if you're a local you need to go just to try their carrot ginger soup. Wow!  Anyway,  Austin was skiing with the youth department all day and Tyler was working.  Off to lunch we went!  And what a conversation we had.

I can't remember why we started talking about it, but she wanted to know why she and Austin call my parents "Poppy and Nana" and why Tyler's parents are called "Grandpa C____ and Grandma B_____" instead of using their last name.  She also thought it was funny that Tyler and his sisters names all start with "T" and both the girls married men whose names start with "T" as well. 

I told her that we originally were going to give Austin a different middle name and how I decided to change it . . . . where I was and what I was doing (his middle name is Tyler).  She told me that if we would have named her Amber Cheri it would have been weird.  And it would have been.  She has my middle name.

We had such a good time that we decided next year when Austin is going to public high school that she and I will go to lunch once a week.  We'll try new restaurants and we'll visit many old favorites. 

I can't wait.

This blog pretty much wrote itself

Sadly enough (for me) this really did write itself.  I'm just the messenger describing the events of the day.

I have recently begun jewelry making.  Crafty, beady jewelry making.  I took a beginning jewelry class in December and was instantly hooked.  Here are two of my first three creations.  The third one will never be posted on here as it is absolutely hideous still a little rough around the edges.

I signed up for another class and it took place this past Saturday.  We kind of had to sit out in the middle of JoAnn's because there was a birthday party going on in the classroom.  I didn't really mind being out in the open and I mused about which of my friends I would see there.  Because if any place in Clark county is going to get crazy busy, it's JoAnn's on a Saturday.

As I sat down, a man who appeared to be in his mid to late forties picked up his bag and moved himself directly across from me. All the while staring at me as if he hated me.  The tables are very shallow and that didn't leave me much room so I spread my stuff out to the left and right of me.  I was a little taken back but figured he was making a necklace for his daughter or wife, girlfriend, etc., and maybe a little nervous. After the events that will take place momentarily I now realize he was probably making the necklace for his mom who lets him live rent free in her basement.

At this point (as if I'm not already sick of him) he starts complaining about being in the middle of the store, how loud it is and that it's very inconvenient for him.  He apparently thought I needed to know that he really wanted to be in the quiet classroom and someone should have called him before the class to inform him of the change.  All I could think was that the classroom doesn't even have a door on it so how he thought it would be quiet on a Saturday at JoAnn's is beyond me.

I was busying myself getting my supplies out and heard a crinkly noise.  I looked up and he was taking a small plastic shopping bag - which he had just gotten his supplies out of - and slowly moving it over the table directly in front of me.  All the while he was giving me the death stare.  FREAKED to the OUT!!!!  And he just left the bag there and went on about his business.  There were only two of us in class at the time and wow!  I suddenly had the urge to publicly thank the someone who put us out in the middle of the store.

I bent over to get the last of my beads and as I sat up, there he is doing the death stare at me again and as I live and breathe, cleaning out his ears with q-tips. I glanced at him and quickly bent back over to pray to God that he wasn't carrying a large knife in his bag o' tricks.  Thankfully, there wasn't time to find out.

He really started complaining in full force and finally packed up his stuff (minus the bag he slid over to me) and left.  Then he went to the front and demanded a full refund - which the angels at JoAnn's gave him.  Did I mention he left the class after our teacher handed out all the instructions?  Issues of right and wrong went by the wayside, I was just glad he was gone.

Here's the necklace we made in class.  I just love it.  We learned how to make the "bead balls" ourselves and I can't wait to make something else using them.

I was inspired when I got home and that night I made this glasses holder? chain? lanyard?  Not sure, but I needed to hang my magnifying glasses around my neck for when I do the intricate jewelry work.  It's quite a site to see me in two pairs of glasses.  At least that's what my kids say.  I haven't had the guts to look at myself in the mirror with them both on.

And here's a little good bye from Gwen.  She was wondering what was getting so much attention from me.  She's getting as jealous as the chihuahua.  And see the cord thingy in the upper right corner?  That's the latest in the long line of things she's destroyed.  Nice.  Real nice.  Good thing she's cute!

YFMWNOEWL 2010 Edition

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's been awhile.  Let's just keep it simple and say the first holidays without my mother were horrible.  I spent most of the time trying to keep myself from having a breakdown.  But, it's over, I'm feeling great and I'm lovin' January.  And the last thing she'd ever want me to do is sit around feeling bad. 

And even though I haven't been blogging for a month the 10's of readers I have attracted keep looking at my site.  How sweet of you.  And the Googlers keep Googling away and giving me some pretty interesting material.  So without further adieu . . . . . .

sheri+i+dont+think+my+husband+will+find+anything+he+thinks+i+dumb about
Really?  You think you're so superior to him?  "i+dumb about" doesn't sound the least bit off to you??  Okay, sweetie, you really ARE all that.

computers
Are not something you should be coming to me to find information out about.

blue tarp white trash
I agree, the camo tarp is really the only choice to show how classy you are.

cheri ending

If I could Google it, would I even want to know?

turning 40 now what
If you're like me, you get to have surgery and get reading glasses to "amp up" the power of your existing glasses.  And I'm only 5 months into being 40.

alaska white trash
I'm sorry, the correct term for me now is Washington white trash.

Signs of aging and turning 40
Number one sign:  You're 39.

kitchen organization
Yes, what is that and where do I get some?

mermaid from Beri

I will ask for the 500th time . . . what the heck is BERI?????

cuddledud changed
They changed my life - who knew being warm 24/7 was so easy?

where did my mom put my top

If you're old enough to Google this, you're old enough to be in charge of your own clothes.  Hey, did my kids Google this?

kazuo kawasaki crippled
I wonder if Sarah Palin sent him a get well card.

why do we cover up baby jesus
Because in all our porcelean nativity scenes, his anatomically incorrect body would just confuse the children.

classic overreactor
What?  This came to my blog?  This whole blogosphere makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...*

cheri spooning
You gave me an idea.  My husband likes to use "forking" as a substitute for a naughty word.  The next time he does, I'm going to come back at him with, "You're so spooning right!"

kid almost touching a bird
Not a kid from 1977 named Cheri, I guarantee you that.

my mom is my fav
Awwwwww, have my kids been Googling again?  Let me find those shirts for them . . . . .

*Okay, so I didn't write that.  Neil Gaiman did.  But you get the point.

The Passion of the Little Baby Jesus

There he is in all his plaster glory.  Our strange Little Baby Jesus from our Nativity set.  Try to overlook the fact that his "blankie" doesn't really cover up his anatomically incorrect body and that he has blonde hair and blue eyes.  Every year I say I'm going to get a brown marker and color his hair and eyes the correct shade of middle eastern Jewish.  And every year I haul off and do nothing.

Over the years, not one thing about Christmas has stirred more screaming fits of passion in my kids than our Little Baby Jesus (LBJ for short).  Let's break it down, shall we?

First we have the screaming over just who gets to put LBJ in the manger fresh out of the styrofoam box.  And the absolute worst thing I could ever say was, "Just take turns."  Because I obviously forgot that if you're the second one putting LBJ in the manger, it has lost all meaning and will result in tears, red faces and generally bad attitudes.  For some reason, the kids have thought it was my responsibility to remember who placed LBJ in the manger first the year before.  Yeah, the woman who has to have a huge calendar displayed on the refrigerator so I can remind myself what I have coming up that day is going to remember who got firsties last year.

Second we have the "oh no you di'int" when one child decided the manger is in the wrong part of the Nativity.  I get chills just thinking about the yelling and crying that has caused over the years.  Of course my reasoning of, "Does it really matter where the manger is on top of the end table" never put my kids into the logical state of mind I hoped it would.

I saved the worst for last.  The horror of one child purposely hiding LBJ and proclaiming that he will not make his appearance until Christmas morning.  Oh, the smugness.  The self-satisfied eye glilmmer.  The triumphant spirit of "ain't no one gonna tell me I can't move/touch LBJ."  Resulting in gasps from the other child.  The inevitable, "Moooooooooooooooooooooooom!!"  The threats of what the sucker would do to the hider of LBJ if he wasn't returned now.  And this would be where I used to go postal.  Let's just say about 30 seconds into my postal breakdown, LBJ would be returned by the offending child.

I was in my small group this week and someone remarked that sometimes our simplest Christmas traditions will be the ones our kids will remember the best.  All I could think was, "Will my kids ever look back at the Passion of the Little Baby Jesus with fondness?"  I'll admit, I dont think I'm there yet.  Thankfully the kids are 14 and almost 12 this year and there has been no fighting this year over LBJ.  He just lays there in his manger undisturbed.

But I am thankful.  Thankful that the kids were fighting over Jesus.  Thankful that even though their little kid passions got in the way, they know the real meaning of Christmas.  It isn't having a Christmas list 75 items long.  It isn't shopping every day for six weeks.  It isn't even our Christmas tree.  The focus of Christmas for us is Jesus. 

This year Austin didn't want to help Amber set up the Nativity set.  She set it up all by herself and made sure every shepherd, goat, wiseman was looking straight at Jesus.  That's something I'll remember forever.

Apparently the beagle has a weight problem

The dog who moves so fast that not even my super cool Canon Rebel Xsi can make her appear unblurry, is fat.  Not obese, the vet assured me, but just overweight.  Wow.  Who would have thought that a dog who shows absolutely no self control in any area of her life would restrain herself and not eat as much as a lumberjack?  Me, that's who.  I'm a regular genius.

I have never owned a dog that you have to keep on a feeding schedule.  The most Belle has ever weighed is 6 pounds 8 ounces.  And the least she has weighed as an adult is 6 pounds, 6 ounces.  We have always just loaded up the dog food dish when it's empty.  Apparently this backfired with the beagle.

I didn't think she was fat.  I just thought she was filling in nicely.  She's only 16 months old and I thought she was still roly-poly from baby fat.  Don't I sound like some delusional mother who thinks their 10 year old still has baby fat?  But in my defense, in the grand scheme of things my dogs aren't exactly top on my priority list.

Our vet is wonderful and didn't suggest putting her on diet food.  He said it's mostly fiber and doesn't really solve the problem.  He told me sometimes food allergies will trigger overeating (huh?) and to eliminate certain things from her diet.  I told her I had already eliminated processed beef, wheat and corn.  He was impressed.  I was not because knowing that these three ingredients are tough on dogs means only one thing.  I have high maintenence dogs.  Not the digestive system of iron types who can eat Ol' Roy or Dog Chow.

He said the best thing to do is regulate her food intake. Great. So that means I have to remember to feed them in the morning and the evening.  And I only give them a certain amount of time to eat.  What's the certain amount of time?  It's the exact amount of time it takes me to remember to shove the beagle away from the bowl of food she's stationed herself at like a linebacker protecting the quarterback.  I swear she squats to lower her center of gravity.

She seems to be losing weight - she actually has some definition now and doesn't look like a walking tree stump.  So while she's looking better, she is now spending more and more time at my feet in the kitchen.  Which again, is a total BLAST for me.  I get a real kick out of constantly tripping over her.  And heaven forbid I drop anything on the floor . . . . it's a death cage smackdown between her and the chihuahua.  Which is really, really fun.

Tyler said when these two move on, we're not replacing them.  And by "these two" I'm assuming he means the kids and not the dogs.  Because I think we'd lose touch with reality if we lived a dog free life.  You've got to have something to ground you.

And if cleaning dead varmint remains off the beagle after she's rolled in them doesn't keep you grounded, nothing will.