Saturday, November 19, 2011

PMA, PMS and the Universe

My husband's all about PMA (positive mental attitude), while I'm all about PMS.  The first involves denying reality, not making contingencies for emergencies (don't you love the way those two words look together?) and thinking that if you don't talk about a problem, it doesn't exist.  The second involves bloating, eating, cravings, procrastinating, brain fog, cramping, irritability and mood swings and chocolate.  Did I mention chocolate?

According to my husband PMA can cure a cold, mend broken bones, lower cholesterol, and make your whites whiter.  Bless his heart.  I wish I had more PMA, not that I'm necessarily NMA (negative mental attitude), I think I'm just mostly MMIA (mentally missing in action--you know the light is on but I'm gone eating chocolate somewhere.)

My husband is also a firm believer in "putting things out in the universe."  This means that if you want something to happen, you think about it, you say it out loud, you write it down and the universe delivers. 

For instance, a couple months ago he thought he would like to go on a foreign trip so he sent his request into the universe and lo and behold within a couple months the universe delivered.  He went on two foreign trips (both work related).  The universe respects my husband probably because he is a serious man--one who dots his i's, and crosses his t's and never j-walks. 

The universe does not take me seriously.  Maybe it's because I wear mismatched socks, sing Captain and Tenille songs and tell your mom jokes to my kids.  If there's something I really want, I am smart enough to keep it on the DL because if I think it, say it or breath it, I will jinx myself and the universe will laugh in my face.

Just this past week, I let this thought escape into the universe: Gee it's been a long time (20 years) since we've  had goldfish.

About 30 minutes later there was a knock on the door.  When I opened it there was a plastic bag containing 3 goldfish with this note: Broil 2 minutes on each side.  Season with a pinch of salt.  Enjoy. 

Dear Universe:

If you get a message from me, just ignore it unless it involves money, a clean house, or buns of steel. 



P.S. The fish didn't even taste that good.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

My Very Own Stick in the Mud

The man who makes my heart beat fast and loves me even though I'm directionally challenged, verbally unfiltered, and physically and mentally challenged is off seeing the world again.  Right now he is in Budapest, Hungary.  He was supposed to go there 2 years ago on Thanksgiving.  (What better place to be on Thanksgiving than Hungary, unless it's Turkey?) But his trip didn't pan out because his mother who always made me feel like I was the best thing that ever happened to her family--now I realize she was just very kind, very patient, and very smart--and I love her for it, decided to take a permanent trip to heaven.

So, while Ric is lecturing in Hungary, which is a better place for him to lecture than the kitchen table, I made an exciting trip to Lindon which is almost like London except it is missing an o, a bridge,  a tower and an abbey plus some blood pudding and bubbles and squeak.  But what Lindon is lacking in towers and abbeys they make up for in exciting things like Kindermusic with Rebecca Hainsworth, because seriously, kinder music has got to beat rap;  First Fantasies Costume Cuzzin  because who couldn't use a little fantasy especially if it involves your cousin???  And my favorite, JUMP ON IT.  At least my sweaty son and his recess-smelling friends said they had some wicked birthday fun there.

But how funny is this?
The picture my husband sent to family members from his trip to the Dead Sea to prove he is not a stick in the mud.

He is the tall stick in case you are wondering. 

No, he is not a stick in the mud.  He is a Ric in the mud.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Halloween Quiz answers before Thanksgiving

Answers to the Halloween Costume Quiz:
Flashlight.  The only kind of flashing I do.

Panty-waist, although my friend guessed chastity belt when I wore it to a par-tay. 
Party-pooper, what my husband has dressed up as every year, only he won't wear the hat unless I photoshop it on. . . along with the brown. . .
Hand-me-down.  Very exciting for someone with three older sisters.
Cactus.  Who knows?  Cactusing could be the new planking.
Ceiling fan.  This is what I wanted Luke to be for Halloween.  But alas, he chose to be a stick man instead.  At least he has the body for it.
Dead end.  Thank you Bree for letting me use your end because well, it's hard to take a picture of your own butt and well, mine has kind of gone south.
Split-end -- although technically Lila doesn't have to worry about split-ends until she gets hair.
Ice cream--do you get it?  There's her eyes (ice) and on her eyelid is the word scream.  It's okay.  My family didn't laugh either.

Your mom.  Okay this one did make my family laugh because we are ALWAYS telling your mom jokes: Like tonight when Luke said, "This dinner's hot," and I said, "Your mom's hot!"