Category Archives: Awesomesauce

I DID It!!

I made it through a nearly 2-hr shopping trip, at my favorite grocery store without:

  1. Singing very loudly, and off key, in the produce section – or any other section for that matter.
  2. Responding to a phone call/text with a blue streak of profanity that looked like I was berating myself

I did dance a little jig when I realized my accomplishments, though. And, no I didn’t do that in the store.  I did that in the parking lot to some wide-berth stares.

But, that doesn’t count, right? Right?

happy feet

Is Your Life Too Hard?

Well? Is it?

Is it YOUR fault?

Tim Hoch, at Thought Catalog, thinks it just might be.

And, in many ways he’s right.

What say you?

And Uh-One, And Uh-Two…

I love music.

No, I mean I really, really love music.

I have two genres that are tops on my list.

#1 – Blues and Swing; from Billie Holiday to Voodoo Daddy

#2 – Celtic; from the Celtic Women to..well, everyone else, it’s not a large pool here in the States

Numbers three through elebenty-hunnert include gospel, classic rock, Rat Pack, and country.

The other day, as I was shopping, I was listening to Pandora radio on my headset.  I have one station called “Thumbprint”.  It’s fairly new (to me), but I’m sure you kids have seen it.  It takes music you’ve “thumbed up” and lumps it all together in one station.

(An aside, you young’uns don’t remember but back in the day radio stations were mostly AM and most of them played a wide variety of music.  It wasn’t until electricity came along, and FM was born, that specific stations with specific music were created.)

I was getting my groceries to the crooning voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, and tapping my feet to the huge sounds of Voodoo Daddy and Brian Setzer.

I was in the produce aisle when a beautiful hymn called “Down To The River to Pray”, sung by the incomparable Alison Krauss, came on and I stopped and closed my eyes for a second.

Then I started to sing.

You know how when you have headphones on you think you’re being really quiet when, in fact, you’re being exceedingly loud and everyone around you notices only you don’t because you’re so caught up in the moment and sure at any second someone from a major label is going to spring up from the fruit display and offer you a million dollar contract on the spot because you’re the most amazing singer since singing was invented and angels weep every time you use those pipes?

Well, let me tell you, it’s every bit as interesting as finding out you left the house without pants again.  Except with fewer recording contracts.

Totally busted while belting out a song in the middle of the produce aisle?  Can check that one off my bucket list.

 

More

…about moi…

*clears throat, considers what to put out there on the Internets, decides she’s way too boring/paranoid to say anything other than what’s already here*

Ahem…

Uh….yeah…

Well, that got awkward in a hurry.

Sorry.

Here’s a picture of a cute puppy to make up for it.

cute puppy

You’re welcome.

 

Outbreak Monkey At the Hunger Games, Easter Edition

My family is not normal. Nothing we do is normal. No event is normal.  Hell, if we had a “normal” day, that’d be abnormal, so right in line.  Even our normal is weird.

Easter egg hunts are not normal at my house.  The grandchildren generally get along, the bigger kids help the little ones find eggs, and there is much rejoicing.

The parents, however, are another story.  It’s Hunger Games, Easter Egg Hunt at our house. There’s tripping, shoving, misdirection (“Holy shit, you just stepped in pile of dog poo!”), and general foolishness as each parent tries to gain an advantage for their offspring.

In short, they’re a bunch of miscreants.  I couldn’t be more proud.

This past Easter’s egg hunt was the same as all the others.  The only differences, for me, were 1) for once the yard wasn’t a mudpit as it had been pretty dry all week and 2) I had to watch from afar having smashed the ever-lovin’ shit out of my big toe that morning when I opened the back door to let the dog out and shoved the bottom of the door over the top of my toe.  It still hurts like a sonofa….

And then, the Outbreak Monkey arrived.

C’mon, tell me you have seen the scary movie “Outbreak” starring Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo.  If not, get thee to a Red Box or Netflix, or something and watch it.

I’ll wait….

*whistles*

*bakes pie*

*builds storage shed*

*cures world hunger*

You back already? Good, now I can finish the story.

So, in my family the first person to get sick with whatever is the one we call the Outbreak Monkey.  This time, it was my 8-yr. old granddaughter and our first clue was the text her mother sent as they were driving home:

“Aaaand…we have pukage in the van!! AWESOME!”

At 1:00 a.m. the next morning, the poor baby was still puking in her sleep, no less.  My daughter called me asking for the magical potion I keep to stop pukages, so instead of sleeping at 1:00 a.m. I was dispensing wizardry in the hopes my sweet granddaughter would stop the pukies.  She did, and there was much rejoicing in the land…

….until this morning, when my daughter texted me again and said her other daughter has it now…

We had FIFTEEN people at our house on Easter Sunday.  Two are sick, that makes thirteen more to go…except I think I had it already.  I think it’s the nasty new norovirus that has been going around and which I got right after Christmas.

At least I hope that’s what this is.

Or, if my daughter is right – as she said in a follow-up text this morning – it only affects kids 8 and under, or as she put it “the very geriatric, like you Mom”.

Age has its advantages.

 

Because…

….there’s never, ever, not ever, not for one minute…a dull moment in my life……..

Christmas went well.  It was a hunnert degrees outside, and Santa looked like he would melt inside his suit when he visited the gaggle of screaming grandchildren gathered to meet him on Christmas Eve.

Months of preparation and the entire gift-opening extravaganza was over in 12.4 minutes.

The adults at my house engage in a White Elephant gift exchange.  The concept, for those who don’t know, is to gather gawd-awful items you already have, wrap them prettily, and then every person gets a number and we pick packages based on if we’re first, second, and so on.  After the first pick, the next person can either ‘steal’ a person’s gift or get a new one from the stack.  And so it goes.

The idea is to give someone you love a hideous/disgusting gift.  It’s a Christmas Spirit thing.

Of course, there’s always that one relative who doesn’t get it.  That person invariably brings a truly magnificent gift.   This year, it was a giant bag filled with gorgeous household knick-knacks, wall hangers, and so on.  It was the FIRST gift picked, so you just knew the receiver wasn’t going to hang onto it.

Except the receiver, my youngest son, literally guarded his loot and threatened anyone who came near.  He looked like a dog guarding the food bowl as he’d place his body between the would-be thief and the bag…growling and giving the thief the stink-eye.

The kid’s got game when it comes to intimidating looks.

I thought we were going to have a brawl a time or two as shouts of “cheater!” and “That’s not how this game is played!” fell on son’s deaf ears.

For my part, I’ve got so many knick-knacks and crapola around already I’m thinking of changing my name to Pier One Kirkland’s (got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?), so I didn’t want a giant bag with more dust collectors.

In the end, son got to keep his big bag and I got a coloring book and crayons..perfect..no, really, perfect for when the grandkids come over.

I think we need to explain the White Elephant rules one. more. time.

Christmas Day is usually quiet and laid back at our house. I won’t get out of my jammies all day, unless we have company for dinner – which we did this year.  It was still quiet, as all the grandkids were occupied with their new stuff.

The very next day I came down with the latest version of norovirus.  This was the day we were supposed to start taking everything down because the day after that we were going to visit my mother some 700 miles away. Instead, I spent a day and a half praying to the porcelain gods and wishing I could sleep until it all passed. I mean, really…you get the pukes and a raging fever with body aches all at once.  Seriously?  ONE is bad enough, why oh why do we have to get both?  Then, I spent the next four days (three of which were at my mother’s house) with a come-and-go fever, cold sweats, and zero appetite. Good times.

But, it doesn’t end there…as we were preparing to leave on our long road trip (a day and a half behind schedule) – and let me tell you just how excited I was for that, having been so sick so recently – when my sister’s frantic calls and texts began.  Her husband was admitted to ICU with sepsis.  How he went from a healthy, cutthroat, corporate attorney to death’s door can be attributed to the medical profession.  He had a biopsy, it got infected, then it really pissed his body off and he wound up in the hospital for a solid week.  He’s home now, with a PICC line for antibiotics.  Out of the woods, be definitely still on the mend.

And that was just last week…hell, part of last week.  The rest, though, was anti-climactic after all that led up to it.

I even rang in 2016 asleep, on the couch at mom’s, for the first time since I was a child.

It was a hint for this year.  Keep it quiet, dude. I need my rest.

Merry Hallowthankmas!

It’s that time of year, when bloggers post either sappy, sentiment-filled thank yous and I love yous to all their devoted readers.

But, that just wouldn’t be me.

So, keep the merry in your Christmas,

The happy in your New Year,

And most of all, keep your nuts away from the fire.

Have a good one, see you next year.

Phrase Dujour

There’s this thing, called the Internet, that is truly one of nature’s most amazing black holes ever.

I mean, one minute you’re asking Aunty Google about where to find the best gingerbread cookie recipe, and the next thing you know you’re reading about famous gingers in movies – my personal favorite being Maureen O’Hara.

Hours can go by and before you know it, it’s time to go home and you won’t even be in the running for Most Productive Employee this week/month/year.

Oh well, might as well console yourself with trolling comments on hilarious Amazon products – like uranium and unicorn in a can (go look, and don’t say you haven’t been warned) – or watching BuzzFeed videos and then accidentally coming up with:

“The Most Awesomesauce Phrase of The Day” in the comments.

Today’s phrase  was about makeup application, and one commenter was lamenting the cost of makeup and how if she put it on she wanted it to be seen, dammit…so she said:

“…put that shit on like you’ve been slapped n the face with a PopTart ladies…”

…………..aaaaaaaaaaand scene

 

When You Least Expect It

I was having a grumpy day.  I was hurting, I was tired, blah, blah…

And, I had to go to the post office as the last errand of my busy work day.

I got there and noticed people walking up to the door and stopping.  After a few seconds most of them turned around to leave. When I got close enough I saw why.  The big sign proclaimed the credit card system was down, and only cash was accepted.

Who carries cash anymore? Not me..that’s who.

Grumbling, I went back to the car and asked Auntie GoogleMaps where the next nearest post office was.   I found it and set off, at least happy that I was heading in the direction of home.

I got to the next post office, and apparently ALL THE PEOPLE who’d left that last place had gone there.  The line was out the door.

Now, I was really starting to get annoyed.

Fine, I thought, I’ll just go to the post office near my house.  This post office is right out of the 1940’s.  They staff is very small, usually very sour, and very slow, and on any given day there’s an incredibly long line.  At least it was close to home…so, there’s that.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the post office to see only two people in front of me.

Imagine my further surprise to hear a man’s voice.

Singing.

He was singing Christmas carols.

He was very good, too.

Looking at the line of folks, I thought for sure it was one of them.

I also briefly wondered if I’d forgotten to take my headphones off, and was the singing coming from them.  Yes, I do stuff like that. All. The. Time.

Nope, it was one of the clerks behind the counter.  He was young-ish (but then, face it, I’m old and the young-ish are getting younger-ish every day) and had full-sleeve tattoos, large rings in his earlobes, and a shaved head.  He was delightfully full of sparkle.

When it was my turn he greeted me enthusiastically, asked about my day as though he really cared, and proceeded to serenade us all as he completed my transaction.

I left there with a big smile on my face, and a decidedly springier step.

I’d been so annoyed at having to search for a simple post office, and the quest had led me to a very sweet place.

It just goes to show you, when you least expect it……..

 

 

I Have a Confession

I’m addicted to the silly, sappy, soapy, and other words that start with “s”, holiday movies on Hallmark Channel.

Yesterday, I started watching them at 6:00 a.m., and didn’t stop until another of my guilty pleasures, “Once Upon a Time”, came on at 7:00 p.m.

I mean, I binge-watched.  I only got up, reluctantly, to pee and eat.

On the plus side, I am nearly finished with my stashbuster crochet afghan.

On the minus…thirteen hours?? Sweet clothespin jeebus.

I may have a problem.