i may have an overactive imagination

i deliver newspapers.

sad, but true.

this degrading job starts at 3:30 am.

i use a metal cart to bring my papers out to my car and load it.

this morning, the cart suddenly knocked me in the leg.

i looked up to see if someone was joking with me, but no one was there.

the cart is heavy enough not to move by itself.

enter overactive imagination.

i pushed the cart back in place and pushed all thoughts of ghosts out of my mind.

this was succesful until the cart hit me again AND the car door kept getting closer to me even though no one was pushing it.

it is dark at that time of the morning.

i was sufficiently in overactive mode by this point.

i stood very still looking all around me, picturing a disgruntled newspaper delivery gal from the past messing with me when i heard this kind of crunching sound in the snow under my car.

full freak-out mode set in.

the car was moving all on its own by this point.

which cars tend to do when someone takes them out of gear and does not put the emergency brake on.

i am a moron.

an imaginative moron though.


a rite of passage

my son became a man today.

a costco man.

you see, we had lunch there, but bear eats so fast that you need a slow-mo camera just to catch the action and watch later.

he did not feel he had enough to eat.

he did.

being the burly bulk of autistic ‘i don’t want to accept this’ mass that he is, he let me know he was not pleased at being told that he was done.

i disagreed with this memo.

everyone else in the vicinity got the memo though.

enter coscto samples

bear has never really even paid attention to them before.

all i can say is thank you Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Yahweh, Allah and any other deity i may have forgotten for taming the savage beast that is bear’s stomach.

yes, he entered a sample boy and left a sample man.

do you know what color my carpet is?

do you know what color my carpet is?

light brown.

i forgot this beautiful color until yesterday when i swallowed my carpet shame and had it cleaned by outsiders.

how clean are they?

every time i look at the carpet i want to sing madonna’s ‘like a virgin’ song.

i am humming it right now.

can you hear it?

i would take a picture and show you the cleanliness that now abounds in our home, but i don’t want to sully the carpet in any manner.

just think of pure white snow……only brown.



what the slightly neurotic homebound do

the flu season has hit my family hard this year.

i am going on 2 weeks of sequester and seclusion with little dashes out into society.

what does one do when sequestered and forced to stay home?

well, i started by cleaning bedrooms.

by the time i was done i had taken out 6 bags of garbage and 8 bags to thrift stores.

i even found a humidifier in my son’s room that had been missing for a year.


there are no monsters under the bed, i kicked their trash out!

next, i watched my son think it was a good idea to take the garbage out without any shoes on……in the snow…….in sub-freezing weather.


then i watched as he realized how bad of an idea that actually was.


then i taught my other son some wicked ninja moves.

so wicked that he was referring to himself as ‘the fat panda’ when the carnage was complete.


finally, i thought i would fight the straight hair epidemic that is sweeping the nation by bringing back the 80s one perm at a time.


and in doing this stand against straightness, i realized one very important thing:

i should remain in my role as a follower, not a leader.

please get me out of this house!!!

the end is here

yes, today is the last day of term at school.

unless your kids are complete freaks, it means stress, anger, glaring, head-banging, pleading, and insanity.

and that was just the dogs.

the only thing that has kept me sane is the fact that i am the only legal driver to get my kids to school to make sure they keep turning in the assignments.

and it is a tenuous hold.

i will say this, i am ridiculously proud of my son.

he was up till the wee hours of the morning getting a project done.

he raised every one of his grades that needed raising.

he wrote 250 sentences in german in the past 10 days.

he only glares and mumbles 2-6 times a day and tells me i am sucking the joy out of his soul.

basically, he is perfect.

good on ya son.

now onto another conundrum.

my carpets need cleaning.


i feel i should clean them before asking someone to come clean them to hide my secret dirty carpet shame.



to be or not to be expired

“do you think this is bad?” i asked the hubby while looking at the label.

“i don’t think so, does it taste different?” he replied.

so, of course, i tasted it again.

“it tastes sort of “miracle whip-ish.” i declared after licking my finger again.

for those of you who don’t know, miracle whip is evil. there is nothing miracle about a whip.

this finger-licking test led to a deep and meaningful conversation by the hubby and myself that made us question many things like this:

“if is says ‘best if used by’ versus ‘expired by’ does that mean it is not expired?”


“what if this is why it was on sale for such a good deal and every jar i bought is now expired?”


“do you think it will make us sick?”


“i don’t know, the kids seem to handle it.”

we never did come to a solid conclusion.

so, if it says ‘best if used by’ is it really expired?

another important question:

if you eat fruit loops for both breakfast and lunch, can that be considered a diet?

is a little equality too much to ask for?

i’ll admit it, i watch downton abbey.

yes, it is smoozy.

yes, it is ridiculously melodramatic, i mean come on, suddenly walking from a wheelchair?

i was hooked.

i…….can’t…….get…….enough. (and i think matthew is secretly gay)

tonight was the 2 hour season 3 premier and that meant the world needed to stop rotating for those 2 hours cuz mama was gettin’ her fix.

unfortunately, the family did not get the memo.

maybe next time an acronym should not be used.

as i was running around getting the kids things they needed as they needed them, i could not help but wonder why my downton abbey fix was not given the same sanctity as the nfl play-off fix the hubby got.

both events have melodramatic men; so why is mine treated as less important?

what it boils down to is this.

i think until there is equality in the interruption per minute of parental t.v. time, women are still living in the stone-age and i for one plan to make a stand.

and i will get right on that as soon as i finish watching hulu to see all the parts i missed.