I just read Cynthia’s blog which talked about picking “your song”. Her video of REM on Sesame Street inspired me. LG and I love the guest singers on Sesame Street. Sandra Bullock once did a mean “Ma-na-ma-na”…can’t find it on you tube.
I don’t know if I have ONE song, but this is a song that I LOVED as a child. It’s message rings true to my life…Sing a song, sing out LOUD, don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear….just sing!
Everyone seem to have posted something really sweet for their spouse yesterday, and all I came up with was the depressing last post. Give me a break, I was up throwing up the whole night before.
I do love my man, and was especially grateful that he was there for me yesterday….not because it was the big holiday, but because he took care of the kids while I slept away most of the day, trying to recover.
This video is for you LG, I know you will enjoy!
Abigail went out with her group of church girls last night and sang to some people at a nursing home. (This picture is not from last night, but from a school thing last year – I included the pic. to give you the idea of how cute 8-11 year olds) Aren’t they darling? I am sure the nursing home loved their company last night.
Anyhow, on the way home, I was very impressed with Abigail’s observations of the night. She was telling me all about the people that she met.
“Mom, there was this really old guy who was 97. There was a lady who was deaf and they had to write everything on a paper for her. There was a black guy, and it was his birthday.” She even told me the people’s names.
Sophia and Bella were listening to the conversation and started asking Abigail questions about her adventure. Bella being inquisitive about the aforementioned deaf person asked me, “Mom why would they sing to a dead person?”
I was glad that the girls were paying attention to Abigail’s story, but who would have guessed the dead person association of my 4 year old? I guess I better start writing my mommy speech now for reassuring Bella when it is her turn to go to a nursing home to sing. Really, how am I going to handle this with honesty? It’s not like I can say, “No Bella, don’t worry, there aren’t any dead people at nursing homes.”
This reminds me of another story. Back in December, we had an unfortunate death in the congregation that shares our building. I was in charge of our ward party that was to happen the evening following the funeral. I had a bunch of things that I needed to drop of at the church early because I had to work the next morning. So I stopped by the church late after the funeral was over.
I wasn’t sure if they would have left the casket at the church overnight until the following day’s graveside service. (I believe they did this with Grandma Gold in VA – every state law is different to this effect and I wasn’t sure what TN law was) As my girls love to run the round hallways as soon as they get into the church, I warned them to stay close by because there may be a casket in the cultural hall. You can imagine where the conversation went from there…
“Mom, what’s a casket?” “Why do dead people sleep in a casket?” “Why do they leave dead people in the church?” “What’s a funeral?”
I had tried to play off all the questions so that they wouldn’t be too afraid of ever entering the church ever again. I had told the girls that a funeral would be over the next morning and there was no reason to be afraid because a funeral is “like a party for dead people”. O.k. hindsight is always 20/20! Yes, I could and should have given a better explanation than that.
If you couple Bella’s amazing imagination with her slight anxiety, you can imagine what she thought was going on in the church at the party for dead people. I was surprised that she still wanted to go inside when I had given her the chance to just stay in the car while I ran a few things in. Do you think that she was showing bravery or did the sure terror of being alone in the van when the party all came out of the building egged her forward into the building with mom? I think it must have been the latter, the way she was clinging to my leg.
Either way, whenever I die, I hope all my girls will remember that they are invited to my party for dead people.
So this morning as we were getting the girls ready for school, all of the girls were telling their dad about their trips to see our friend’s baby goats. Thanks to Grammy for the field trip. The girls just loved these baby goats. And thanks to Steve and Stori for their fun petting zoo.
Here is the goat with Bella. Isn’t she cute? I was talking about the goat. This baby goat’s name is Carameletta. Isn’t that a cute name? Again, I am talking about the goat. The other two babies are Dotty and Pedro. (Pedro’s the boy)
“We had to chase the babies dad. We caught Dotty. The baby one is called Dotty
because she has a lot of dots. The dad has a long beard. The dad is
harry-er. The mom goat looks like she is mad at you and being protective,
but she doesn’t really care. The dad goat is bigger than the mom goat. They
were all so cute dad. They were so fun. The dad goat has bigger horns.”
LG in response to the girls: (yes his wit is really keen in the mornings) “So, I think I got it all, tell me if I am right: the dad is fatter, harrier, and hornier?” Yep I guess that dad really does = goat.
I just rolled on the floor laughing. What a great way to start the day.
I think that Gina’s hubby’s humor is also a little twisted. Gina informed her hubby that I suggested he win a good hubby award, he said, “What does a man do to win the chubby award?”
Across the street lives a Bible Methodist preacher, whom we respect. He was given this ugly poo green van from a Baptist church. It has been an eye sore that has never left the confines of their front lawn for the past two years.
This joke is in honor of Knoxville red light cameras and the bladder incontinence that 1/4 mothers experience.
My friend laughed the other day when I told her I have to cross my legs before sneezing or I will pee my pants. She thought I was kidding…I wasn’t. Oh, what a mother sacrifices. My bladder will never be the same.
This joke is called:
Breaking the Speed Limit
A woman was driving down the highway about 75 miles an hour, when she noticed a motorcycle policeman following her. Instead of slowing down, she picked up speed. When she looked back again, their were two motorcycles following her. She shot up to 90 miles. The next time she looked around, there were three cops following her.
Suddenly, she spotted a gas station looming ahead. She screeched to a stop and ran into the ladies’ room. Ten minutes later, she innocently walked out. The three cops were standing their waiting for her.
Without batting an eye, she said coyly, “I’ll bet none of you thought I would make it.”
When I recently taught Abigail how to use the spellchecker, she didn’t understand why she had spent so much time on that darn spelling bee a while back. I also wonder, “Why did we spend every moment in the car for three weeks spelling word after word, if a computer will fix your mistakes for you?” She was amazed! I am sure that somewhere in that great brain of hers, she is trying to figure out how she can have Microsoft Word close by for next year’s competition.
I don’t want to make you think that I am trying to exploit Abigial with this video because I chose to post the video of when she got outed. Abigail was the only third grader to stay in until the third round; she did very well. And it’s a good thing because it felt like I lived and breathed spelling there for a bit. I just love watching her little wheels turn in this video. You can see it on her face that it only took her .005 second to realize that she didn’t know how to spell smear. So, what did she do… she said something as quick as she could to get the misery over with. That’s my girl…why prolong misery?…if you barrel through anything fast enough, it is as if you didn’t experience it at all. (Wow, even if she doesn’t ever win the spelling bee, maybe I have taught her some life coping skills?)
I like to blame LeGrand for the fact that Abigail did not know “smear”. Really, if that would have been my word, she would have never forgotten the trick…ear with and sm? (Dad didn’t really get into the spelling tricks) The end of page three was dad’s job while mom was at work, back in December. LeGrand swears they went over it, and I am not trying to be mean by blaming him, but really, just so you know, it is the only way that I am feeling good about my job as a mom right now. That spelling bee was one way that I could prove that I was a little smart. LG, well, let’s just say he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone (he’s pretty secure) and he can also do math. And, let’s face it, with Word around, who really needs to know how to spell anyway?
Is anyone else having trouble using their spellchecker in blogspot? I am sorry if I have made you all cringe with my misspelling during the last few days. (Is that word even spelled right?) Well, if anyone knows what I need to do so that I can spell correctly again, can you give me a shout? I would hate to smir my stellar spelling reputation.
And, a good old fashioned spelling bee is not going to work…I now know modern technology in the most intimate fashion, if you know what I mean.
So, good news at the imsofunny camp. I’ve had a total of 1,800 hits in the past few days. I never expected my instalanch and gateway link from two political blogs: instapundit and gatewaypundit.(because from my post a while back, you all know I have never really been into politics) But, wow, I have taken myself by surprise with my own involvement the past couple of weeks. Something lit a political fire under me and I am not totally sure what it was.
To all of my readers who like my typical stories and not my Mitt Romney propaganda, you will be happy that my love affair politics is almost over. I can feel my disenchantment coming on: it’s inevitable, tomorrow is SuperTuesday. I’ll be glad when it’s over, so I can get back to blogging about things that I love. (not sure what the things I love are, but I like to rediscover that every day) I reallylaughed at what a man said to me tonight when I called him about voting. He said, “Well, honey, what I always say is, You have to vote or you have no right to b****.” (I apologize to my Mormon friends for the vulgarity there)
On a side note: I have had the same template for my blog for the past 3 years. But recently people say they can’t read it any more. Which, means that who knows how many of the people from my miracle of an instalaunch could actually read my blog! Oh well, I never planned on being famous in the political world anyway.
For you who have been disappointed when you came to my blog to only find one smeared page, you will be happy to know that I am now in the processing of changing my template. I have to say though that I feel a great sense of loss. I have gotten attached to my old one! How sad, somehow the instalaunch I’ve been wishing for got me no loyal readers and simutaneously ruined my good old template! Well, I guess it’s all about progression. (blogging and political)
Do you want to know what I think is totally sour?
I hate it when my friends send me e-mails that ruin a very real enjoyable part of my life.
I always get a lemon in my water when I go out to a restaurant. I can’t stand the taste of old yucky pipes.
I won’t paste the forwarded e-mail here, but let’s just say that one of my friends decided it was necessary to tell me that restaurant lemons are full of germs.
Do you know how I am dealing with the news? Well, I am basically acting as if I never received the news. I have reasoned it away so that I can continue to enjoy my eating out experience.
How do I know those people are really scientists? And how can they say that just because the lemons are bacterial at Harvard area restaurants it means that it is the same scenario in Knoxville? Besides, I am never going to visit Harvard anyway, and I am sure that the waitresses’ fingernails in Knoxville are cleaner than those uppidity college students.
So, people, please think before you send me an e-mail. Some people are just trying to live every day anxiety free. I just don’t want to know these trivial things. I have never gotten sick from a restaurant lemon before. I dont want to worry every time I sit on a public toilet seat. I want to take my kids to McDonald’s to play in the balls syringe free. I want to check to see if someone left their change in a vending machine or public phone (haven’t seen one of those in a long time – are they still even around?)
You get the picture. No more sour e-mails, please!
alice w. gold 