Mine is the Prettiest One

I have accepted the fact that my four year-old son hates art projects and likely will never be a painter, and I'm okay with that. But one thing he has plenty of...and that's self confidence.

Today at school when viewing the obligatory child hallway art, the conversation went like this:
Me: So which one is yours?
His: The prettiest one of course.

Note that his is on the left. And compare that to the one on the right with discernable fish.
There is hope that he'll be strong in math.

I'll Go Approve My Head Shot Now

I get up today and decide it's a day to look more smashing than normal so I select my smartest black wrap dress, faux fishnet leggings and patent leather shoes. It's a good hair day and make up day and I'm feeling sassy and chic or at least as sassy and chic as I can possibly get. It's a Moxy* 10 day.

So a co-worker asks me and another female colleague to interview his daughter who is a senior in high school to help prep her for he college interviews forthcoming.

This young woman is smart, articulate, charming, lovely, and the list goes on. She has strawberry blonde hair--like a princess. She talks at length about her debate club and her variety of topics, her goals for college entrance, her goals for graduate school, her dream to work in genetics and try and cure diseases while babies are still in utero. At one point, I think I slobbered on myself so absorbed in the conversation. She goes on to discuss how she shuns alcohol and drugs because she is solely focused on her studies right now. She is 17 years old.

Me: "Are you shopping for your prom dress yet?"

Yeah, that's about the smartest question I could come up with in her glory.

So me and my colleague leave this little chit-chat afterward and it goes something like this.

Me: "Well, not sure where I went wrong in life as I didn't have a clue about my future and still don't most days. Clearly, I need to work on my parenting skills if I'm ever going to have a kid like that."

Colleague: "Yeah, guess I'll go do some PR now."

Me: "I think the next thing on my list today is to approve my head shot. Does the photgrapher photo shop?"

Colleague: "Yep, any way you want."

My moxy now? About a three.

*Author's Note: I wasn't sure I was spelling Moxy right, so I looked it up on Dictionary.com (not there) so then I went to urbandictionary.com and here is a cut/paste which made me roar with laughter.

A word that would be better suited to being on the 'oldtimey-dictionary.com' website. If you are told that you have moxy it means one of three things:
1.) What the Hollywood world today calls 'it.'
2.) You have an great amount of courage or bravery to do what you want do to.
3.) You have Herpes (which was originally called Moxygoshthisitchesherpes but was shortened to just Herpes in the mid-60's)

Examples:

1.) You, my good boy, have moxy and with your dancing monkies you will soon be the toast of Vaudville!!
2.) Barnabus must have a great deal of moxy to just whip it out in front of his girlfriends parents like that.
3.) Sheryl is disgusting...I think she gave me moxy.

Maybe now, I need a bumper sticker

I have often said that there is no cause or moral issue in the world that I can get so fired up about that I feel the need to have a bumper sticker expressing my point of view on my car about. In fact, I've never understood others who felt compelled to advertise their vehement belief system on their car. That has changed with the Penn State scandal and riot. For once, I'm about as fired up as a citizen can possibly be about a cause, a belief, and a moral point of view.

I have zero and I mean zero to infinity patience for any person in authority there who turned a blind eye to that monster Sandusky and let it go on for YEARS. So you told your boss. That's fine and good, but you worked side by side with that perv for YEARS. There will be dozens of more victims by the time this is all hashed out. I promise you that with Sandusky's "causes" and foster parenting. Yuck.

For all the rioters, you are naive. Go have a kid, and see if you feel the same way in defending these people. Parenthood will change your belief system in many ways.

Don't Go Through Life Being a Lima Bean

I have an irrational fear of sharks. As in, I won't go in the ocean unless I'm in a vessel that says something like "Carnival" down the side. I just think being eaten alive and/or being sucked down under water would be the worst way to go.

Years ago, I was watching a documentary on great whites and somehow, some fool discovered that if you touch the nose of a shark, it's eyes roll back in it's head and it falls backward catatonic like in a haze for a short period of time--presumbly so you can maybe get away. (or long enough for it to get really good and mad at you when it recovers.) While they were demonstrating this, a few people got their hands cut on the razor sharp teeth of the sharks trying to demonstrate this technique and I watched all this with morbid fascination. Cuts = blood = sharks = eyes and teeth = scary.

As I was discussing this with a friend the other day and I looked on You Tube for the documentary and in doing so came across a National Geographic special. In short, it said that sharks don't like to eat humans...to them, we're like lima beans. Only to be eaten when there is absolutely nothing else. They much prefer seals who are like hot fudge brownie sundaes. Wh0 wants a lima bean when you can have a sundae. Agree! As a lima bean has to be the most un-endearing bean, if not food, there is. Nat Geo gets props for the most excellent analogy.

I have known people that I'd classify as lima beans in life. In other words, I only deal with them when I absolutely have to and suffer through it thinking, why must I endure this person?

The moral of this story is then, don't go through life being a lima bean. How's that for a catch phrase?

Easy No Bake Halloween Cake

I'm a good baker, but sometimes, speed is the answer. And my little four year old chocoholic doesn't really have a palette for gourmet treats, the junkier the better. So with that said, check out this "so easy a caveman can do it" Halloween cake. It starts with a Pepperidge Farm chocolate frozen cake (thawed most of the way), some Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies, some plain shortbread type cookies, a few crushed Oreos for dirt, and some gummy pumpkins from our local candy store, and voila! Instant kid happiness.

To do the writing on the tombstones, I melted some chocolate chips and piped them on there, and then chilled to set. However, if I had skipped this step, it still would have been just as cute and Little Man would have never noticed. We devoured this cake and I think it took 10 minutes to put together. Little Man asks "Mommy, I want this cake every day from now on."

What Would Your Last Meal Be?

Have you ever played the game at a dinner party where you cite your last meal, should you ever be on death row? Because in my circle of friends, that's a real possibility. Ha.

I found this topic of great interest in the recent Texas execution of Lawrence Brewer. According to CNN.com, he ordered such an extraordinary amount of food, that Texas is considering removing the "last meal" privilege altogether.

He ordered:
- 2 chicken fried steaks covered in gravy
- a triple meat cheeseburger
- a cheese omelet
- fried okra with ketchup (you might be a redneck, if...)
- 3 fajitas
- a pint of Blue Bell ice cream
- a pound of BBQ and white bread
- peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts (Lawrence obviously had a grandmother who made fudge, so I wonder where he went wrong in life?)
- a pizza
- 3 root beers

Thanks Larry, ruin it for ALL the death row inmates with your gluttony.

What would mine be? It's always the same:
- Fried chicken
- Mashed potatoes with gravy
- Grandmother's Green Beans (although not sure they will ever be replicated)
- Hot Fudge Sundae

What would yours be?

The Tattle Turtle

So my four year old son is a major tattle tale. I thought that was solely a girl thing but apparently, it's a four year old thing. He even tattles on his own self which I find quite amusing. For example:

Him: Today I got a time out at school for pushing Ted out of the swing.
Me: Then no TV for you tonight.

I wonder when he's going to catch onto the fact that these confessions lead to restricted privileges. I guess even negative attention is attention. But back to the turtle.

The other day I was doing drop off and his teacher and I were chatting, and he comes over to tattle tale on Annie who said a "mean word." The teacher put up her hand and told him to go tell it to the turtle and he proceeds to walk over to the corner of the room and start talking to a stuffed turtle. I asked the teacher, what is that all about? as it was quite an amusing little sight. She proceeded to tell me that she teaches the difference between telling and tattling. You tell when:
- someone is hurt
- someone is need of help (bathroom, zipper, etc.)

Tattling is trying to get someone in trouble. Hence the tattle turtle. Genius!