charity does faileth

i have noticed in the blogosphere atmosphere, that it is suggested one blogs for 30 days straight to get the blog really rolling.

as i thought about this while driving at 0848, i realized that i did not have enough wow within me to fill 30 days of continuous writing.

at 0849 my hubby called and helped me secure at least 2 consecutive days of blogging.

“we have over $1900 in overdraft fees right now.” the conversation relayed.

doing a quick run through of my rolodex of memories, i knew we did not have anything in our lives that would constitute $1900 in over draft fees.

“remember the donation i made to boy scouts of america for $10? i did not remember because he did not share with me this particular donation. “they somehow thought we donated $2859, which also happens to be the number of the check the donation was written on.” he continued.

first of all, let’s review some facts about the above mentioned donation.

1) i did not want to donate.

2) people actually come to your door asking for said donation after delivering a letter letting you know that they will be coming to you door to ask for donation.

3) i did not want to donate.

4) the hubby is an eagle scout and felt it his eagle duty to donate.

5) i was overruled.

not that i have anything against boys having all their knot tying dreams come true, and that is not because i am suffering from knot envy. in fact, i do know a scout personally, and when he and his friend were tying me to a stump after chasing me down, their knot tying skills let me escape, repeatedly.


i also am not against eagle scouts. although, most of the eagle scouts i am acquainted with, it is actually their mother that earned that rank of eagle. i also happen to know that there are more than likely 40 year old men who still don’t have their license because it was not allowed to be had until they had their eagle scout ranking.

no, these are not reasons to not be donating, i do not like people coming to my door asking for money. if i want to donate to you, i will contact you.

how one mistakes a $10 donation for $2859 is still a mystery. someone in the scouting office did not earn their money merit badge. not only does it make it so we have literally no money in our bank account, it also makes it so we can’t use our debit cards while they ‘investigate’ the situation. what is there to investigate? the check clearly says $10, am i the only non-idiot in this scenario?


i feel like i should take part of the blame in not realizing what was happening sooner. i saw an email from the lovely folks at BSA, but immediately trashed it without reading thinking we had nothing to discuss. had i opened the email i would have seen their sincere thanks for our sizable donation along with a payment record number.  for that amount of alleged donation, i would expect something more. at least the girl scouts give you cookies when you give them money.

clearly, next time any donation is made, it will be made in cold hard cash, and more than likely not to BSA. and never again will the hubby make donation decisions based solely on his scout ranking.

it all depends on the poorness

Stodmor's Blog: Surviving motherhood without eating your young

“there’s no one i’d rather be poor with than you.” i told my hubby this morning after we discussed what we had for the next two weeks moolah wise.

“well, you don’t really have a choice.” he pointed out.

oh but i do my dear sweet hubby, you are hubby #2 remember?

“just look at it this way, we are at the top of the poor bucket. we may be poor, but dang it we make poor look inviting!” i like putting spin on things, it just looks so much better when the equilibrium is off.

that’s right, we are the proverbial frog in a bucket that swam and swam until it got out.

moral of that story?

no one wanted the cream after a frog was in it and the frog just stunk like sour cream when it did get out so all the other frogs shunned him.


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what i learned in my therapy lesson with myself

the longest, most meaningful, relationship in my life is food.

we love each other.

we crave each other.

we make beautiful music together.

love food

i realized this as i looked over at the hubby and he looked right back at me with his reading glasses on, and therefore, hugely magnified eyes stared back at me and i thought “oh !@#$, we really are growing old together.”


i have never had that thought about food.

i think about food when i go to bed.

i think about food when i wake up.

i think about food in church when i am supposed to be going without food while contemplating all things spiritual. i often look deep in thought at church, but in reality, i  am contemplating some chocolate chip cookies which i made as soon as my spiritual body got home.


i know myself well enough that if ever put in a situation where food must be rationed, i would rationally convince myself that the rations were irrationally distributed to  people other than myself. stealing would commence.


i am so excited for the upcoming holiday season, not because i decorate my house, i tend to decorate my mouth, and plan on starting with these babies. don’t tell the hubby, but i regularly cheat on him with these.


on a completely different side note, i found this on my google search for delicious food pictures

candy corn

a candy corn pumpkin, who the hell has time for that???

i am ok with this. i realized that i can be in a loving and involved relationship with the right combination of grease, cheese, and whatever goodness i decide to bring into the partnership.

thank you food, for making my life worthwhile, because nothing else matters.


anti-hugs, the new way to parent

sunday was a perfect morning.


no church.

kids sleeping in.

i felt like a disney princess singing in a forest with little woodland creatures gathering pizza and other delicious food for me to eat.


my daughter walked into the kitchen where i greeted her with a hug.

“what’s wrong?” she immediately asked.

“nothing, why?” i asked still glowing in woodland glory.

“you hugged me.” she said.

my other daughter came downstairs about 15 minutes later receiving a hug from me as well.

“what is going on?” she asked.

“i am hugging you.” i said.

she just kept walking to the bathroom shaking her head.

apparently my mother intuition for nurturing hugs is lacking.

i am not a hugger.

i like my hugs like this.


while the hubby and i were walking around a store yesterday, i was telling him this story.

“wait,” he said while pausing “are you holding my hand?”

apparently i am not a hand holder either.

my cat has autism

“your cat is autistic.” the diagnosis rang in my ears.

it was me telling myself that my cat now had a life long disability.

“how did this happen?” i wondered to myself. “why did i not see the warning signs?”

and the signs were all there. lack of eye contact, lack of desire to be around people, would only interact with someone if the person was ignoring him. if a person was laying on the bean bag, he would sneak up and lay next to the individual as long as no acknowledgment of said cat was acknowledged. basically, complete disregard for all humans.

there was no paw flapping though, maybe that is why i thought he was just a little delayed.

as i mourned all the things i will miss now, like playing with balls of yarn


or rainy days of snuggling.


of course i would actually be a cat person to want the snuggling, but this is beside the point, i realized we were ok.

i could let go of my dreams for him. i could rejoice in the fact that he hates to be around people so much, he even poos outside.

i can rejoice at the lack of cat hair in my house because he hates people.

i could let go of my dreams of watching him chase little mice filled with cat nip around.

cat nip

i am ok with being used as only an outlet for food.

we are ok.


see, he refuses to even look in the camera for a picture.

cats with autism: there is a 1 in 50 chance your cat could be autistic too.

know the signs.

coming full circle

Stodmor's Blog: Surviving motherhood without eating your young

shortly after queen was diagnosed, we were at a church activity where i sat and watched a teen-aged boy run back and forth flapping his hands looking up at the lights in the gym.

i was still settling into the shell shock of the diagnosis, still letting go of the dreams i had for her, and still trying to figure out what exactly life held for us.

“i do not want that for my daughter.” i silently thought.

i still thought that the boy i was watching must be terribly unhappy being able to do nothing but run back and forth flapping his hands.

“i cannot let that happen.” i vowed.

tonight at the pool, queen was walking back and forth along the edge flapping her hands and looking up at the lights on occasion.

“does she have a diagnosis?” a grandmother next to me asked.

“yes, autism.” i answered. i still do not like to…

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the importance of a snappy ID pic

one can never put too much emphasis on an ID picture.

the picture ID can make it so you are never allowed in any venue with actual human beings.


or, the ID can make it so you not only get in free to every venue you ever try to enter, you also get a free unicorn, puppy, and adoration from the masses.


i never had ben pegged for trying a fake ID to up his age.

this clearly states he is in 12th grade and i have it on good authority he is firmly in the 11th.

sneaky little devil.

fear me dear children, fear me.

today, congress is voting on air strikes to stop a nefarious organization.

but i know the real reason for the ordered air strike.

i am in full PMS and having money problems.

fear the mother and send me in to visit ISIS, i don’t even need a face mask or sword.

if they insist i do wear a face mask, please make it blue, that just brings out my eyes.


i don’t think it is coincidence that fear and mother are used in the same sentence.

there is hope

“i can never date, i am too much of a slob when i eat.” said my 10 year old while trying to lick her shirt clean at dinner.

i looked across the table at my husband and saw food all down his shirt and said, “don’t worry, even your father found someone to marry him.”

never, never, never give up ella, there is always a clean freak looking for a slob.