True Confession

When I saw this in the shoe department:

I wanted to yell, "They've been HEALED!"

(Is it obvious by how blurry this photo is that I was trying to take it quickly before I got caught?)

True Confession: Eating Healthy

Last night Shawn and I both "saved" the snack from our meal plan so we could eat it after dinner. It was frozen yogurt and sliced strawberries.

I was allotted 1/2 cup of frozen yogurt. I smashed as much yogurt as physics would allow into the measuring cup filled the measuring cup with yogurt. As I scooped the yogurt out of the measuring cup into the bowl, the smallest drop of yogurt fell on the counter.

I looked at the more-than-ample amount of frozen treat in my bowl.

I looked at the drop on the counter.

I looked at the more-than-ample amount of frozen treat in my bowl.

I licked the counter.

But, you already knew that was how this story was going to end. Didn't you?

I Don't Strike You as a Survivalist, Do I?

It's because I'm not.

But, I felt like one as I checked out at Wal-Mart with sleeping bags, lanterns, whistles, dust masks, a wrench... You might wonder why I felt like a "survivalist" instead of say... oh... a camper. It's because survivalist made me laugh. And, made me think of "going off the grid." And, having meetings in cabins. Where everyone brings a shotgun... or a rifle (personal choice).

Where in the world was I going with this?

Oh, yeah. Survivalist. I'm not. But, back in March when the 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Japan, I read that so many more Japanese had survived because they were prepared. Then I saw a Emergency Supply Kit list from ready.gov and, well, that was all the shove I needed to think that my family was doomed if I didn't assemble supplies. Immediately.

But, I did take heed from one suggestion I saw that it is expensive to assemble all of these supplies. So, I made a list. And, I bought one or two things every time I went to the store. Unless I had forgotten to buy some things in a while - and then I bought ten or twelve things at once... What's that saying about paving the road to hell with good intentions?

This was all going fairly well. Until I got bored. And, Japan wasn't in the headlines every day. And, it was summer. And, most of the times I was at the store, I had kids in tow, so disaster supply gathering was really the least of my concerns. Getting out of the store as quickly as possible seemed much more necessary for my family's survival.

Then a little broad came along named Irene. And, we have some friends who live in her path. And, again, I got certain that the fate of my family lay in our disaster readiness kit.

So. I finished it. And, I felt like a survivalist as I checked out.

But, here it is:

Pretty, ain't it.

And, now? I don't want to discuss the fact that the most likely natural disaster we will see in our neck of the woods is a tornado.

I can't tell you how annoyed I'm going to be if my disaster supplies get picked up in a tornado and deposited in somebody else's yard...

My Ride's Been Pimped (I don't really even know what that means.)

So, I've made no secret of the fact that Shawn hated my old car. I'm not sure what he hated about it... the glovebox that wouldn't close; the overhead lights that were burned out; the volume button that would get stuck while increasing the volume (that was pleasant); the cigarette lighter that hung out of the dashboard by the wires; the exterior that had a ding in every. single. panel (one of which was on the trim that surrounded the driver window like someone had tried to break in with a crowbar - FYI, you can't fix that without replacing the door panel); the three-foot key scratch that someone gave it while it sat in the driveway last Halloween (I wish I knew who that was... I'd take back their candy); the scratched bumper where I misjudged the side of the garage (I don't want to talk about that anymore). And, I know having a DVD player in the car is a luxury, but notsomuch when it has the same VeggieTale movie stuck in it for six months. Or maybe he just hated the layer of goldfish/cheerios crust that the kids had cemented into the interior over the past five and a half years. I mean, seriously. What's not to love?

Shawn tried to show me other people's pretty new cars. But, ehhhh. Whatever. Mine still "worked."

Then.

Finally. He thought of it. The convincing argument. He drives two-hours down the road. A lot. And, his ginormous SUV gets terrible gas mileage. And, he couldn't drive mine comfortably.

So. I let him buy me a new car.

I know. I give and give.

Blah, blah, blah... All the different options. Blah, blah, blah... I got a Buick Enclave. It is beautiful. I will let my children die of starvation and dehydration before I let them eat or drink in it.

Also?

I got an OnStar app. It will unlock my doors for me. from. my. phone. I will never have to climb through my own sunroof again! But, even better? It will start the car for me. From anywhere. I have to be honest. I took the kids to run errands just so I could remote start the car from inside the stores. It's like I'm freakin' Knight Rider!

The one problem?

I can't say "Buick" without making a barfing noise. Like this*:

I'm pretty classy like that.

*Things that occurred to me as I made this video clip:

1) One should not wear a strapless shirt while filming footage of oneself if one does not want to appear naked.

2) I may have gotten a little carried away with my editing abilities on Mac iMovie.

3) I make some really weird faces while pretending to barf. This is terrifyingly obvious when viewed frame by frame. Please don't view this frame by frame.

True Confession(s): Lazy Summer Edition

I have a confession. It's taken me this long to put up pictures of our trip to Corpus Christi because I didn't want to get the camera cord to download them. Not, I didn't want to find it. I didn't want to get it. I knew right where it was, too. It just wasn't ever within reaching distance. I'm still a little bit bitter about the walk across the room I did have to make in order for this post to appear.

I have another confession. I couldn't make the trip to the camera cord yesterday because of the laundry. Oh, the laundry. It had become a beast with a life of its own. I considered throwing it all away and starting over. But, that would have require a trip to the store. And, I was too lazy to do that, too. So. Instead I did nine. loads. of laundry yesterday. Nine. And, I have a large capacity washer. How my family wasn't walking around naked I will never know.

Oh wait. I have another confession. I'm addicted to pinterest.com. If you follow me on Facebook** or Twitter you saw when it occurred to me the other day that there was some cool site out there about which I had heard people rave/bemoan because it was so awesome/addicting. And, as with most things the moment they jump in my head for no reason, I wanted to go to there! The Sirens friends in my life helped make it happen. And, now I have a[nother] problem.

**and if you don't... WTH? I'm only *this many* (Trust me. I'm holding my fingers very close together) people away from having 400 followers on my Facebook blog page. Then my whole life would be validated. Well. You know what I mean. As much validation as one can get from a social networking site. So. Really. None. But, 400 would still be cool. So go tell your mom to be my fan, please...

So there you have it. I guess to summarize: The lazy days of summer have walloped the kids and me upside the head.

I'm exhausted from typing this post. Does someone have a refreshing iced beverage I can drink?

Oh crap. I still didn't post those vacation pictures.

And, I should be honest.

I never did get the camera cord.

The Post Where I Prove I'm a Hypocrite

I am not celebrity obsessed. I wouldn't go around tracking down the every move of the lady down the street. Why in the world would I care about the every move of a person just because their chosen career is acting or singing? I can admire them for the entertainment they provide. I can love their work. But, go to their house and be their BFF? Only as much as I'd want to go to your house and be your BFF - meaning, if I got to know you; and we hit it off; and you didn't pick your nose when you talked; and you didn't make fun of my hair or my clothes or judge me for my long, rambling run-on sentences; and you didn't have a cat at your house that clawed my leg... things like that.

Now, granted. I have been lured in when the media gives me the illusion that I do know these people. But, I don't relish Charlie Sheen's spiraling, out-of-control meltdown anymore than I would relish the alcoholic-induced breakdown of the soccer mom at school. Nor do I need a front-row seat to the tragedy.

I just see these people as people.

All of that to say: I have not been obsessed with the Royal Wedding. I mean, I knew every. single. media outlet would show me what her dress looked like, and how many attendants they had, and any other necessary highlight I would need to be privy to; and many, many that I wouldn't. I have not been seeking out the Royal Wedding "deets." I mean, really. They're just two young adults getting married. A special day. For them.

I was absolutely not going to set my alarm clock for 4:00am CST to see the pre-wedding coverage and the 5:00am CST wedding. No sir. I did that once in 1981, the summer after first grade, and even then I remember thinking, "Why are these people getting married so early?!" (Time zones. It's a tricky concept when you're 7...)

Then. Today.

5:00am CST:

"Mommy, I had an accident."

5:08am CST

I get everyone snuggled back into bed and I think, "Huh. They're getting married right now."

5:09am CST

I walk downstairs, past the TV and I think, "I'll just turn it on for a second. Just to see her dress."

I've been watching wedding coverage for five hours now.

Y'all! They kissed twice!! Unprecedented! And that dress! And, Kate is so gracious and graceful. And, they seem so in love with their quiet communications, spoken and unspoken. And, did you see how exquisite her sister looked as her attendant?

I even gave Shawn a little dissertation on the surname of the Royal family this morning. He was fascinated, I can assure you. (Cliffs Notes: They don't officially have one. How cool is that?! But, when you're the Royal Family, I guess people pretty much know who you are.)

So, later tonight at 7pm CST Piers Morgan will be doing a complete two-hour wrap-up on CNN. Awesome. I'm there, Piers. I mean, seriously!

I ♥ Will and Kate! Does anyone know where I can buy a set of commemorative dishes?

True Confession

I only have this cookbook out for show.

I was forced to admit this to myself when I walked past it the other day and the following words caught my eye:

I don't know what the majority of the words in the phrase "4 heads Belgian endive (chicory/witloof)" mean. Witloof?!

I Don't Do Tired Well

It doesn't look pretty on me. at. all. Just ask anyone. Anyone who's ever met me.

I even try to warn the kids: "Mommy is very tired tonight. Please help me so I don't get frustrated."

The other day we stopped at Sonic on the way home from school. The kids asked why and I told them, "I'm very tired. I'm going to get a Diet Dr. Pepper. It has caffeine in it. I hope it will help wake me up so I won't get frustrated with ya'll too easily." (I'm nothing if not honest - that's something, right? Yeah. Yeah. I know. Coins in the therapy fund. *clink* *clink*)

Yesterday, I was tired - again. Bone-numbingly tired. I have no idea why. But, it was like the cumulative tired of the past three months came crashing down on me yesterday afternoon. T-I-R-E-D.

I got the kids home from school. Every day, when we get home from school, Spencer gets a snack and then he does his homework. Every single day. I told him to get his snack then start his homework while I finished vacuuming.

I finished vacuuming and found him. Playing in the garage. On his new skateboard. I. flipped. out. I told him he had "no idea how angry" I was. I told him that that skateboard was "this close to going into time-out for a WEEK!" I was mad.

He came inside - contrite and repentant. He sat down to do his homework. I got back to finishing my housework. And, I hear his rational, calm voice say, "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe you should get a Diet Coke. You seem a little tired."

I didn't know if I should laugh... or get a Diet Coke.

Have you missed me?

Have you missed me? Tell me your answer is "yes." I really need you to say "yes." I'm just going to pretend that you said "yes." K? K.

I was going to check in on Monday, but the telephone/internet modem was out. I was composing the scathing blog I was going to post about how much I loathe the internet provider up here (who seems to have a monopoly on the market), until the technician arrived and asked, "Where's the power cord?" Power cord? Oh, you mean the power cord I put in the garage with the other power cords because I couldn't figure out where it came from? That power cord? So, yeah, my internet and telephone were down for three days because I unplugged it. I've officially lost my mind.

Then I came down with a 24 hour bug. I'll spare you the details. You're welcome.

Anyway, I'm back. And, the update is: I've been unpacking. People? Not one of you told me that this was awful. Yeah, sure, you can try to pass the blame by saying that I could have remembered from some of my previous umpteen moves that unpacking was awful. But, I feel like you should just take responsibility and admit that not. a. one. of you reminded me that this would be awful; that cleaning the bathrooms today would feel like a pleasant escape from unpacking.

I have now reached that vicious cycle of moving piles back and forth because a) I don't really know what I'm going to do with them; or b) I haven't decided if I should keep them or not. I'm about to reach c) so sick of the mess, anything without a place is going to get thrown away. That's a shame, since one of the homeless things I'm looking at right now is a Baccarat vase. Oh well. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

In happier news:

The kids love their new school. I'm pretty sure the overwhelming reasons are "big lockers" (Spence); "Expended Day" (Elizabeth) [Extended Day - the program after their morning classes where Lulu can eat lunch, take a nap and generally have a romping good time in "the fun room"]; and backpacks (Spencer and Lulu). I'm not picky. I was just happy to see those smiling (but, tired) faces when I picked them up from their first day yesterday.

And, everyone is so nice to me at their school. I don't know if I expected them to kick me in the shins every time I had a question or what. But, truly, I haven't felt like I've asked a dumb question yet (and, y'all, I've asked plenty of dumb questions). But, as Shawn said, "Those must be really nice people. Everyone is consistently nice. They couldn't all fake it every single time we have an interaction with them."

In other news:
Have you ever tried shopping for school supplies in the middle of the school year? Don't. Or get ready to hear this a lot: "That's a seasonal item." (And, that would be in reference to a pencil box!)

So, that's about it. I leave you with this anecdote (and a promise to check back in much sooner):
Spencer, Elizabeth and I were squeezed into the handicap stall in the Target restroom (going to the bathroom with children - I don't care who you are, that is a handicap). Spencer went. I lined the toilet so Elizabeth could go and she got slightly obsessed with the fact that she ripped the paper when she sat on it. She finished and I was going to go. Elizabeth said, "Brother, do you think Mommy can go pee-pee without ripping the paper?" Spencer: "Yeah." Elizabeth: "Yeah. But, she's got a big bottom."

Rude.

Seriously. Am I the only one who sees these things?!

We live on the Plains of Texas. What's with the lumberjack?! They can't be offering to take people away from lumberjacking (we have no trees), so they must be offering the dream of lumberjacking. Who knew?

(Someone call that number and report back, please.

Or call from the lumberjack camp!)

This is why you should never put your keys in your mouth.

(That's an unidentifiable "parking lot puddle.")

This should be filed under "True Confessions."

Confession #1: I went to put away the kids' tote bags from a camp they attended this summer. (Yes. It's December. They were hidden on the coat tree. Don't judge me.)

Confession #2: Elizabeth's bathing suit was still in there. And still wet.

I was attacked by my own wedding ring. See how there's blood smeared all over the band? And, this picture doesn't even do justice to the bloody chunk that was missing from my finger.

I hope I'm never DNA tested in connection with a crime. But, wait. That crime would have to involve my own blood... Now I really hope it never happens.

Am I the only one that thinks it's a little hysterical that there's a donut shop a few doors down from the Weight Watchers office? And, it has a drive-thru!

 This happened in the middle of the football season:

I feel like it might have been God's way of suggesting our team just scrap the season and take up swimming.

Serious overuse of quotation marks:

This seems like some fairly intense take-home reading for a 1st grader. I was expecting a Dr. Seuss character. Cesar Chavez? Notsomuch.

(Honestly, it was a cute little book from the "Rookie Biographies" series. I just did not expect a solemn Chavez to emerge from the bookbag last night.)

So, do you see hysterical ridiculousness everywhere you look? Or is it just me?

Halloween Night Busy Work

I was left at home last night to hand out candy while Shawn took the kids trick-or-treating. This was necessary, according to Shawn, so we wouldn't be "the lame house."

I took the opportunity to clear out the "candy cabinet" to make way for the new booty that was being collected.

After I showed no mercy and dumped the entire content of the "candy basket" into the trash, I dug back deep. And, this is what I came up with:

I now present I Spy: Old Candy.*

Do you see...
Petrified cotton candy - in the colors of pink and blue;
Seven Pez dispensers (though you can't tell who is who)!
An almost empty jumbo bag of Twizzlers candy treats;
And an Easter egg that avoided attack - a regular Easter feat!
And, just like the stores, we've already got your Christmas candy, too.
Though, ours is ten months old... and gross; not bright or shiny or new:
There's an open and spilling candy cane of M&M chocolate bits;
And, a poor, forgotten, chocolate Claus who looks like he's suffering fits.
And, finally there are candy canes that look like they've been to Hell.
But, it can't be all bad, 'cause look, right there! There's a festive jingle bell!

Lest you worry that my children are being deprived the chance to tango with Type II Diabetes, here's what we have after one night of trick-or-treating:

OMG!

And, let's face it. We're Johnsons. Marathon trick-or-treating isn't really in our constitutions. Yet, we still managed to bring in that much of a haul. This is unreasonable. Oh well. At least I can rest easy that, in ten months, 3/4 of it will still be sitting here. Petrified.

I guess it's easier to understand how so much candy was attained when I look at this picture:

I mean, who could resist these two?!

*I was inspired by my friend Mandi. She did this on her blog. It's a happy way to look at the chaos in your life!

True Confession

This is me moments before I left my house yesterday (Yes. Yes. It is weird that I stood in front of the mirror and took a picture of myself, thank you for asking.*):

Those? On my feet? Those are slippers. I wore them out in public. On purpose. I have no medical condition that would necessitate slipper-wearing. They're just cozy and faux-fur-lined and they have a rubber sole. I don't see the problem here.

Don't judge me.

P.S. The truth of the matter is that I have probably just moved one step closer to wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes...

*Can you imagine how many pictures I had to take before I got one that I was willing to show you?! No. No, you can't.

True Confession - The Laundry Edition

Clearly I'm expecting a "little plastic cup thingy" shortage of epic

proportions. When it happens, I'm going to sell mine at a premium!

(In lieu of that, someone should probably call Hoarders.)

I think we should seriously reconsider any

decision to purchase white shirts in the future.

(Go ahead. Click on the picture to see the full extent of this horror.)

My final confession doesn't have a picture because I was too busy ignoring the piles of laundry in my kitchen to take a picture of them. (They were neatly sorted, though!) I walked through them for two solid days because I just didn't want to do the laundry. I figured if I waited just another minute longer, that was one more chance for it to get done magically.  It never happened.  I had to do it all myself. It's so unfair.

Does anyone else have a laundry confession that they would like to get off their chest? It would help me not feel quite so alone and abandoned by the Magical Laundry Fairy...

True Confession

This is what bread in my pantry looks like:

The condensation that I see upon closer examination of this picture makes me gag even more than I did when I saw this nightmare in real life.  What I can remember from high school biology makes me fairly certain that's proof of respiration from a life form.

Now I'm starting to think it was probably a mistake to make a sandwich out of the back half of the loaf.

True Confession

In the morning when I am rushing out the door to get the kids to school on time, I empty my car of the trash that is in there from the day before... and leave it on the garage floor.  To actually throw away a cup, you must first empty it of liquid.  It's worse with a can - you must empty it of liquid (out of that tiny hole the size of a quarter) and put it in the recycling, while popping the tab off to save for fundraisers.  I don't have that kind of time.

So it piles up.  I admit, this is a disgusting, pig-like habit.  But, my desire for timeliness beats out my desire for a clean garage (which is officially Shawn's responsibility anyway, right?).

And, to answer your question, no, I can't go back and throw it away later in the day.  It just always seems like such an ordeal to have to dump the liquid first.  I don't know why.  And, you can't throw the whole kit n' caboodle in the trash - then you're just asking for "trash juice".  Gross.

It's complicated in my brain.  Shut up.

If you look closely at the Sonic cup on the right, you'll see the remains of a Milky Way bar that Lulu was given at a class party.  Yum.  Hungry?

Answer to Friday's mystery pic:  a microscopic view of Velcro.  Cool, huh?  Although, it really, really, really looks to me like a terrible parasite you might contract while visiting tropical climes (or a tapeworm like Amy said).

Well done, Marcy (and Mont over on FB).

True Confession

I'm fully aware it's a common name.  But, I still felt like a superstar when I saw this in the store the other day:

No autographs, please.

True Confession

I probably think this is funnier than I should:

I especially liked Elizabeth's pronouncement of, "Mommy.  Cinderella's head just fell off."

True Confession

This is rum cake.  This is rum cake that is eleven days old.  This is rum cake that is eleven days old with way too much rum sauce on it.  (notice how someone cut a piece... and then thought better of it.)  It's still disturbingly moist even though, as previously stated, it's eleven days old.

See the big chunk off the top of the left side.  I ate that.  With my fingers.  Just now.  On the way to throw it out.  It tasted a little... aged.  And quite pungent.  A little like rubbing alcohol.  And, I didn't think it was nearly as bad as I probably should have.

I'd probably do it again.