03 Jul 2013 Leave a comment
Father’s Day weekend, my car was broken into.
Since the police have no leads in the case, I thought that I would help them out by drawing a composite of what theoretically the burglar should look like.
So, it’s well known that all robbers have a big nose. Possibly a mole or a wart on the end.
Oh, and big ears. That is a given! And a bald head with only tuffs of hair around those gigantic ears because it is proven fact that once you start a life of crime, your hair starts to fall out. This has been proven over and over again in all the crime shows because a piece of hair is always found at the scene of the crime.
BUT…plenty of facial hair.
And beedy eyes- with a blind-fold to make those eyes look even smaller.
A thin-lipped crooked smile.
And a stocking cap- generally black. Most thieves get cold easily. Possibly knitted by his mother.
And lastly, a big belly. ALL robbers have a a big belly.
Now, there are several items that were taken from my car that should narrow down who the subject is. First item that he stole was my ipad. My ipad had a bright pink case, so it should be easy to spot.
Second, my robber stole my $10 Walmart sunglasses. True, he won’t get much from them at a pawn shop. But, he will look stunning in the fake plastic shiny diamond looking things on the side.
He also stole a pair of my sexy pumps. You know, the cute heals with the strap that goes across and makes you stand 6 inches taller.
Last but certainly not least, he stole my altoids. YES, my altoids. Breath mints!
So, I am looking for someone wearing incredibly sexy shoes and shades, carrying a bright pink ipad with incredibly fresh breath.
If you smell this perpetrator, please help out by calling the police department. Your tips will remain anonymous.
06 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
in Family Tales
As the hot summer days roll by, my pre-teen has determined that he is “bored.” He has watched every show that there there is to watch for the 80th or 8 millionith time (I have lost count somewhere between June and July), he has done the whole “family vacation” thing and he has done his third tour in France. Now, he has nothing to do.
The declaration of “bored” is followed by an announcement on facebook to all his friends out there: “Who wants to hang out!” The only response are the crickets.
As a mother, I am furious. I want to cry out to the cruel world, “This is MY son. DO NOT ignore him.” I want to call each and every one of his friends and say, “How dare you.” in that voice that tells each and every last one of them that I am truly the wicked witch of the west.
Wisdom tells me that his friends are either busy, that they aren’t on Faceboook or they are on their own vacations. I throw wisdom to wind and continue to tell myself that a true friend would have dropped everything INSTANTLY and responded without hesitation.
I WANT AN EMAIL 20 SECONDS AGO!
As my son sits alone in his baron and desolate room with big tears rolling down his face, too upset to eat dinner and so miserable he cannot even bring himself to play Minecraft, I make a decision right then and there that I will never, ever, ever let him hang out with those cruel and thoughtless friends of his.
While I am contemplating sending him to a new school where there are far superior friends, I hear a noise from his room. “Get out!” I realize that his older brother has now added to his turmoil. I roll up my sleeves and stomp down the hall, determined to make as much of an anger noise as a mother can make. I get my finger ready. You know, the finger that knows all and tells all. I take a deep breath so that my mad mom voice can take over and…wait.
“Get out!” I hear again, “That’s too funny. I can’t quit laughing.”
28 Jul 2012 Leave a comment
How does someone with no technical experience whatsoever end up having her own blog page? It is quite interesting that just a few months ago I could barely turn on a computer, thought Facespace was an actual website and Angry Birds was somehow closely related to Twitter.
I bought my phone from a vendor on the street during the King Arthur days. This phone had a wonderful feature called “pocket dialing” and it seemed to activate itself quite frequently without my knowledge.
Not too long ago, I ran into the store to grab a few items: bread, milk, butter and stuffed mushrooms (can’t forget the stuffed mushrooms). I walk toward the check-out counter, playing a balancing act with my groceries, phone and keys in one hand as I dig through my purse for my debt card with the other.
My balancing act is challenged when I hear an odd noise coming from my groceries. I look down at them in disbelief. My milk had just mooed at me. I continue walking down the aisle thinking that my mind is just playing tricks on me.
But…I hear it again. My milk definitely mooed at me. I stop dead in my tracks and set my groceries down in the middle of the aisle. Everything but the milk, which I examine quite intensely. I look around for hidden cameras or something to let me in on the joke but I see nothing out of the ordinary. That’s when I hear the noise again. I then realize that the noise is not coming from the milk, but from my phone.
“Hello?” I quietly whisper into the phone. “Moooom!” the outrageous voice cries through the phone, “You dialed me AGAIN!”
That was the day that my family ganged up on me and threw away the ‘tin can on a string’ that I called a phone, and forced me kicking and screaming into the technical world. I was introduced to the iPhone.
The rest has been all a blur of iTunes apps, Facebook, Pinterest and web browsing. Oh, and by the way, did you know that Californians are not the only ones who can surf now?
I have since fallen in love with the iPhone. I carry around this six hundred dollar piece of technology (more powerful than the first NASA space shuttle) in a professional-looking case that makes me look more than just important, I look POWERFUL! I use this wonderful technology quite frequently to play a tile matching game on-line.
My mid-life crisis started out as a bad day at work. Ever have one of those days when you could swear that you work at the mental ward at the local hospital and all your co-workers are the patients? When I came home that day, I felt an unfulfilled destiny weight heavy on my shoulders. I cried over the depressing thought that I had become a compliant 9 to 5 work zombie.
My self-pity was broken with one quiet question posed to me from my soul-mate. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“What?! ” I answered back, “I AM already grown-up!” I had to laugh at the question presented to me, however, he did not.
“Seriously,” he repeated, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
And so… I seriously considered the question.
“I want to be a writer…” I stated boldly. But then that insecure voice inside of me finished, “But, I’m not that good. I’ve never even published anything.”
He told me that he would not allow me to let my childhood dream die. His words gave me new encouragement. He told me that if it’s something that I love, then it’s something that I should do. I shouldn’t worry about what others think. I should do what makes me happy.
Thus….my blog was born. Welcome!