…a day for which I am amply prepared year-round.
Oh no, kids…it’s also Paczki Day!
So after the paczki, we can work off the extra calories by racing to the top of the stairs and out onto our balconies in N’awlins, and throw beads at people.
See, here I thought that was a Mardi Gras tradition, and all this time it was people working off the pile o’ paczkis they ate.
It’s all in preparation for Lent, a very important religious observance for some. My husband suggested we participate in Lent this year. I don’t know why, we aren’t Catholic. I told him I was all for it, and suggested we give up ‘sacrifice’ for Lent.
I sacrifice paczki all year long. I think, during Lent, I should give up that particular sacrifice. I also sacrifice leisure time for work, I’d like to reverse that trend, too.
He walked away muttering to himself about how I don’t understand the concept.
Clearly, the man does not understand the concept of ‘sacrifice’.
It’s also apparent that God was not paying attention in shop class one day, and lost his ring finger. Probably when he was creating dinosaurs.
Or Justin Beiber.
No, for that he’d of poked out his eyes.
Nope, had to be dinosaurs.
It also appears that IronMan stole some of God’s (literal) lightning. Take a look again, and you’ll get it.
If you know who I’m talking about, and you miss him too…some of his more hilarious moments as the “center” of attention.
Last weekend the oldest daughter-child requested the use of my sewing machine. She’s going to teach herself to sew, and make clothes for her family.
I haven’t used my sewing machine since 2005, but it was new then so I knew it’d be fine for my budding pioneer woman – no lie, she’s turned from a rampant woman’s rights activist into the model of 1950’s domesticity. She bakes her own bread, grows her own food, raises chickens, and keeps a spotless house.
Not sure if a string of pearls is involved, but her hair is always perfect because when she’s not playing June Cleaver she’s a hairstylist by trade.
But, what does this have to do with the title to this post you ask?
I’m getting there.
The sewing machine is waaaaaaaaaay back in the corner of a closet. We have some very large and deep closets in my house, a fact that may be heartening to those who are organized, but to those of us who are “just going to put this in the closet and deal with it later” it’s a nightmare.
I dove into the chasm Saturday morning, and an hour and a half later my hubby walks into a room knee-deep (I am not exaggerating) in clothing, shoes, what-the-hell-is-this, and so-there’s-where-that-went.
“What are you doing?”, he asked, staring wide-eyed at the mess.
“K wants to borrow the sewing machine and I had to unbury it.” I said, breathless and sweaty.
“Oh”, he replied and scampered out of the room before I put him to work. He can always tell by that look in my eye when I’m about to pounce, and suddenly he has to go clean the andirons on the fireplace. And we don’t even have any andirons, and we don’t use the fireplace much anymore. It was a selling point when we bought the house, but that was before the reality of a wood burning fireplace set in. It’s messy, kids.
FASCINATING, SAUCY, BUT WHAT ABOUT THE POST TITLE??
You are an impatient crowd-of-two aren’t you?
I dragged the sewing machine out and put it in the hallway so we’d remember to take it the next day to the birthday party we would all be attending.
I then grabbed three ginormous trash bags – I’m talking the heavy duty contractor bags, made for clean-up of construction sites and disposal of compact cars here – and proceeded to fill three of them with items for Goodwill, and one smaller bag was filled with trash.
I was left with a gloriously organized closet – the rod had all the clothes I do wear hanging on it, and the floor contained shoes lined up in a row not piled willy-nilly.
More than that, I had room, empty space, a place to put something.
I proudly showed hubby, who asked, “So, what are you going to put in there now that you have all that room?”
My eyes glazed over as I smiled wistfully while visions of crochet projects yet-to-be danced in my head. “Yarn.”
“Yarn? What yarn?”
“I have to go shopping, of course.”, l replied looking at him like he should know better than to ask. I swear, sometimes it’s like he doesn’t know me at all.
He walked away mumbling something about my “problem” as I stared into the closet’s abyss and imagined blues and greens, tans and yellows, bulky, baby fine, heavy-duty and threadlike..yarn…
And that’s why I’m a yarnoholic. I don’t need any more yarn, kids, but I have a void.
In a closet.
I have space.
And, I have a 40% coupon for Hobby Lobby.
….to kill a vampire, but this only lists the top 10 with a few honorable mentions.
Most seem pretty complex to me, but then I’m sure not everyone goes around with a vampire hunting kit like Peter Vincent.
Please tell me you know who Peter Vincent is.
The Bloggess, over there on the left and really - I mean you are not addicted to her?
Anyway, The Bloggess has occasionally posted search terms that bring people to her site.
She has a LOT of search terms to play with.
I only have a few…
special fbi agent juke williams – this one shows up proving that Juke is still up to his old tricks and obviously not getting enough takers to retire and spend his twilight years in lovely Siberia – and if you’re here today, because Juke is looking for you – he is not real, it is a scam, get back to work
vncccccc – ooohhh…I know what this is! That’s the Roman numeral for that game that was just played with the sportsball-thing…Stupendous Bowel, or something like that.
special agent juke williams – toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe – and this search, in some form or other comes up more than anything else…really, people?
Texas weather – wait…five…minutes
baley lamin - i’m sure that’s the name of a folk singer, and if it’s not, it needs to be
what does owiee mean – umm..owiee? Say it out loud, it will make sense
shit my lpo says – huh..i didn’t even know lpos could talk..learn something new every day
tango city in republic of benin – i was not there, not on the night in question at least
I just realized why I don’t usually dig into the search stats.
People scare me.
The call from my oldest daughter, K, regarding her oldest daughter, B, (my oldest granddaughter – she’s 8) went like this:
K: Mom? I have a question to ask you.
K: Some of B’s classmates are telling her that the characters in movies like “Frozen” and the fairies in “Tinkerbell” aren’t real. She asked me if that was true, and I stumbled. I didn’t know what to say.
ME: So what did you say?
K: I asked her what she thought.
(ugh…I hate that answer..always have always will…it ranks right up there with, “because I said so” and is about as useful..but I didn’t tell K this)
K: She just shrugged. What would you have told her?
what would I have said…a million things about magic and belief and I’d of gone on and on, just like I did when K asked me these questions a thousand years ago…
ME: I would have said of course those people are real.
K: How do you explain that, when we know they are not real.
ME: Do we?
ME: Do we know, without a doubt, that fairies that help little boys and princesses that freeze things are not real?
ME: Exactly my point. We choose not to believe, and when we do that I think we lose a little bit of the magic in our souls.
K: Oh, mom…this is why I call you.
K: I’m going to have B call you, okay?
Later that afternoon, my phone rings…
B: Hi Grammy.
ME: Hi B, how are you?
B: Fine. Umm, Grammy are Elsa and Anna real?
(my mind races…”Elsa?”…”Anna?”…before I realize they must be the princesses in “Frozen”)
B: Oh…how do you know?
ME: B, the characters in the movies aren’t the ‘real’ fairies, or princesses or what have you. Do you think every ‘Santa’ you see in a movie is the real Santa? Of course not. The real Santa, and the real fairies and princesses are far too busy with important things to take time to make a movie.
B: Then who is in the movie?
ME: The movies are based on these people, but played by actors who spend time with them and study them so they can be realistic.
B: Okay…thanks, bye!
Just like that, the conversation was over and a little bit of magic was restored to a tender soul still wanting to believe.
And, who knows, maybe that little bit of magic spread to an old soul, making her feel the awesomesauce of it all once again.
I got this iPod/iPad/iPhone speaker/charger docking station-thingy (it’s a technical term, trust me) from Amazon, and this is the conversation I had with my boss about it:
ME: Hey, look at my new speaker/charger-thingy for my iPhone.
BOSS: Does it hold an iPad?
ME: I don’t know, I haven’t figured that out yet. But, it’s got different modes.
ME: I don’t know, I haven’t figured that out yet.
ME: Well, it’s also a clock when nothing’s docked on it…it displays the time, though it’s in military time because I haven’t figured out how to change it yet.
BOSS: Does it have an alarm?
ME: I think so, but I haven’t figured that out yet.
ME: *chuckling* I guess there’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet.
BOSS: Yeah…when did you get this?
ME: Oh I’ve only had it a short time.