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Showing posts from December, 2018

things i hate part 2.

This was such a hit last time, and to be honest it was painful to stop once I got started, that I decided to do part two.  You. Are. Welcome.  For those of you who missed the last post, I get kind of cranky like once every four weeks or so, and feel the need to disband the popular notions that certain things are cool.  Here we go... 1. Red Vines Let the record stand in showing that red vines taste like wax.  They are not good, and they never were.  Twizzlers should be your licorice of choice, but not the cherry kind.  I'd argue that Nibs are just as bad as red vines.  The only reason people pretend to like Reds Vines is because it reminds them of when their grandmother would give them a vine for a treat, which was dangerous for all dental work.  Those things get stale and hard after like .34 seconds of air and could break your tooth with one fail chomp.  Of course our grandparents drove our parents around without car seats or seat belts, so safety was clearly a concern in that d

everything hurts and i'm dying

One of the comments I hear regularly is "Come on... you don't seriously workout at 4am, do you?" Guess what? I do! Five days a week I work out at 4am, and on Saturday I usually sleep in until 5:30/6am before I go.  Now, let the record stand that I don't like mornings.  I am not a morning person, and Dewy will back me up on this.  In fact, when we were first married and he woke up singing it was almost a deal breaker.  Mornings are cold, and dark, and gross, BUT they set the tone for my entire day.  That means I want to get off on the right foot. I've always enjoyed working out.  I go through phases where I prefer running to lifting or classes to free weights, but regardless I enjoy a good workout.  I like pushing myself and getting sweaty.  It gives me more energy, and mentally I feel better about myself.  Nothing drives me more insane then hearing people complain about getting in shape or losing weight and then refusing to do anything about it. "I don&

december 7

I was sitting in Miss Dickemore's fifth grade class, wearing jeans and a white shirt that had blue flowers on it, and reading Maniac Mcgee  when the PA came on.  The office was requesting me.  When I walked in to the office, I was greeted by my Grandma Cozie and my second grade younger brother, Nick.  Grandma told me to go get my things, and that we were leaving.  When I asked what I should tell my teacher, the secretary told me that she knew what was going on and I didn't need to worry about it.  When I got back to class, Miss D asked where I was going. I told her she was supposed to know, shrugged my shoulders, and grabbed my stuff.  We loaded up Grandma's white van, and headed downtown.  Nick and I sat in those green velvet captain chairs firing off a million questions to an uncharacteristically serious grandma and grandpa.  They said very little.  When we pulled into the emergency room parking lot and exited the van, Nick stuck out his belly and said in a silly voice, &

elf on the shelf.

When I first heard of the elf on the shelf idea, I thought it was the worst possible thing I could think of to do as a mom.  If I were to give in to those antics, I was to be committed to moving that dumb doll around for the entire month of December.  And then what? A leprechaun  for St. Patrick's Day? A Mayflower for Columbus Day? Oh, excuse me... Indigenous People Day.  Where does it end? Sending your kids to school is a surefire way to be outed as the worst parent in town.  The kids all talk to your kid about their traditions and goings-on, and your kid comes home and wonders why you don't decorate your table for Halloween like Carson's mom.  Because, Rhett... Halloween is stupid, and I pride myself on being the meanest mom in the neighborhood.  When he came home asking why Santa sent his friends an elf but not him, I knew it was only a matter of time before I caved.  I was sure, however, that I was not going to follow the ridiculous actions of all the other elves.