The Kindle Challenge

I have seen a lot of ads for a Kindle and it looks like something I might enjoy. After all I do read quite a bit. Also several people have recommended them and said how much they enjoy them.

I do have a few concerns. Firstly while I read a lot, I hardly ever BUY books. I exchange them, I check them out, and only rarely do I actually buy them. So will I have a Kindle I never use because I'm too cheap to buy books?

So in order to justify this purchase I am going to "buy" one without spending any money out of pocket.

How? Well I am going to use my saved up "swagbuck" gift cards. I have $50 from them right now. I have another $10 from filling out surveys. I also have $25 from my credit card usage while my debit card is being replaced. (honestly Honey, I didn't loose it on purpose!). So right now I have $85 saved. I just need another $174. I wonder how long it will take.

In case you haven't signed up for Swagbucks yet, I highly urge you to do so. It is just silly not to since you get free stuff. Plus if you do it through the link on this blog I'll also benefit and I would really like that.

I May be Crazy...But Then You Knew That!

About 5 years ago I decided I wanted to run a marathon. Lot's of people do this and describe it as a life changing event, somewhat safer than sky diving. The fact that I had never run farther than 2 miles in my life and hated to run didn't seem relevant. I mean I wasn't running for the joy of it, I was running to scratch it off the bucket list.

It didn't help that I confided my desire to one person. Just one! She, as luck would have it, had done just what I was describing, and had a book to teach her how. Which she loaned to me.

And so it began. My first run was less than 30 steps. Literally. But amazingly within a few months I running double digits runs, and I even have witnesses. Then life threw me a roadblock. My job changed and I had new hours. My nightly runs after work started about 7pm. Did I mention I lived in Duluth, MN? Running in the pitch black was not good for a klutz. The second time I fell and had to limp home with my knee gushing blood I decided the marathon would have to wait for better timing.

Of course even though I trained last time, and my last run was 16 miles, quitting made the fear grow. Plus I am now 5 years older, and ever so slightly fatter. But I watched the "1 ton man" on the Discovery channel last night and decided I need to take steps before they have to cut me out of my house. Apparently the theory I was working on...that there is a limit to the size your butt can get...is completely wrong! This is very disturbing. So I dusted off my "non-runners marathon guide" and went for a jog last night. I only made it 18 minutes so I have to work up to the 30 minutes required to start officially training, but I'm going to give it the old college try. (For those of you who knew me in college, please try not to laugh...I might have graduated Magna cum Lucky, but I made it!)

Because misery loves company, I'm trying to talk my two sisters into joining me. Not only will I have other people to commiserate with, but we may be able to buy life insurance policies at a group discount. Hey, gotta find discounts where you can! Plus two of us have kids old enough to dial 911. Sorry Mol, you're on your own. But in 6 months you can find me at the finish line. Or dead. Might be a photo finish.

The Final Tally

Well, we survived the first boy/girl party. Sort of. That is, it was sort of a boy/girl party. Actually since the kids are all homeschooled they were polite, followed rules, and had fun, but nobody was sneaking off to play spin-the-bottle or search the interiors of closets. Well one boy wanted to pet our cat, but he went alone.

We had chocolate cake, pizza, ice cream, and strawberry punch. We have white carpets. Number of kids who spilled anything? Zero. I, on the other hand, spilled a quart of red punch, dropped a slice of pizza, and had cake fall on a formal dining room chair. Twice. Number of times I cursed myself (Silently! Honest!)for scheduling a party during PMS---too many to count.

But they played outside on the play-set until the thunderstorm started and then they all had a hoot playing Mario and Wii Dance. It was even fun to watch.

I guess that's why I don't worry about socialization for my home schooled kids. They have awesome role models. In fact my only concern is that somebody is going to wise up and kick us out!

Thank heavens for Amway Legacy of Clean stain remover--all traces of pizza, red punch, and chocolate cake successfully removed. See Honey---I TOLD you I needed that steam cleaner!!!

OCD+Kid's Birthday = Big Bucks

I am a fan of Dave Ramsey and anybody who advocates spending less, saving more, and avoiding all debt. Dave is hard core, XXX, no hold's barred about tellin ya like it is. I appreciate honesty and he makes a lot of vaild points.

But.

Funny how there's always a "but" isn't it? He says you should be able to have a kid's birthday party for no more than $25. Really? I'm a coupon clippin queen but I can't get within spitting distance of that figure.

This year with Hubby off defending truth, justice, and the American way, I resorted to bribery. If my daughter would forgo a shin-dig I said when Daddy gets home we'd go to Disney.

Disclaimer--this wasn't about economics so much as sanity preservation.

Anyway, she didn't agree. But being her father's daughter she proposed a counter offer. Sea World (free admission for Military--Bless you Anheiser-Busch) and just cake and ice cream for a few friends in her school group. Done.

It sounded so simple. Then pizza was added. ($2.50 each, but I needed 4)
Punch- two bottles of sprite, strawberries, and 2 cans pink lemonade.
Oreo place cards (her idea and she made them but it required felt and puffy glue)
2 boxes Oreos to decorate her cake
1 LARGE tub white frosting
2 cake mixes (oil plus 6 eggs)
candles
ice cream
plastic/paper goods (admittedly not required but let's be real.)
fruit salad (probably won't be eaten but I had to do something to cut the sugar)

We blew right by $25 and that was before a gift. True we did not hold the line at cake and ice cream but it is hardly a lavish affair.

So.

I need help, either my OCD meds are wearing off or I am missing something. How do you throw a party for a pre-teen without breaking the bank?

Get organized!

Here is a fun give-a-way if you need to organize your life. I hope I win because you know how much I need this! If you win, do as I say, not as I do, because I'm not exactly a paragon of organization.

Stress-It Sneaks Up On You.

I keep telling everyone that the kids and I are coping with the deployment just fine. Oh we all have our moments but we deal. Which is true, we do. But stress is tricky and it sneaks up and bites you on the butt when you least expect it. Which is why I found myself eating cat food the other day.

Sorry I had to take a quick pause and let my stomach contents settle down. It still makes me gag.

We had gone strawberry picking and the kids helped me get the berries washed and chopped. We made jam, pies, cookies, froze some, and everything was going just peachy. Ok, so I had several projects going at once but it was no more of a disaster than my kitchen usually is. I thrive in chaos. I am MASTER OF THE KITCHEN UNIVERSE! Right. So it was no big deal to be watching several recipes at the same time. Or at least it wouldn't be normally.

But the cat was hungry. I don't have a death wish, and grace is not one of my strongest attributes, so having a 20 lb cat rubbing on my ankles constantly was asking for trouble. So I did the sensible thing.

I told elder daughter to feed him so he'd leave me alone.

Which she did. Except she left the knife she used to scoop the food out of the can laying on the counter.

Which I then picked up and licked. I will NEVER eat spam again because it tastes the same. Please excuse me while I run to the bathroom quickly. Just the thought brings back a gag reflex.

This is how I know I am more stressed than I think, or rather that "background" stress uses up brain cells. A cat food covered knife looks nothing like a spoon used to stir jam. Nor was it anywhere near said spoon. (Bet you can't wait til I give you a jar though, right?) But I just didn't think. Or rather the neurons that normally prevent such stupidity were already in use.

There is only one thing to do until Hubby comes home---there is an immediate NO LICKING policy in effect in this household.

Oh, and memo to the makers of Science Diet---they put food dye in everything else, would it kill ya to add BLAZE ORANGE to cat food????

Strawberry Blues

We went strawberry picking. Again. It's become a strange compulsion for us. The berries are so plump and red, just bursting with juice that I feel this NEED to pick them. Those of you who subscribe to Freudian psychobabble please remain quiet. Hubby is deployed, is it any real surprise that I am fascinated with all things edible?

Yikes. Quick change of subject needed.

Ok, so we made jam. 58 jars worth. When I was politely asked to stay out of Wal-Mart's canning isle I moved onto pies, shortbread, muffins, and even came up with a strawberry-banana bread recipe my kids flipped over. Cheesecake. Check. So much baked goods stuffed into my freezer and given away that friends see me coming and bolt the doors. I swear I heard a rumor that I was having a fling with the Pillsbury dough-boy or how else could I afford the flour?

In short we must stay far, far away from the berry patch. OCD and perfect strawberry weather does not mix, I suppose.

On the other hand I haven't made strawberry margaritas yet. KIDS! Put on the sunscreen we're going pickin'!

And so it begins....

Tonight as I look around the house, I feel like Alice must have felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. I look around and nothing is familiar. Gone are the comforting piles of familiar stuff lovingly placed with tender care. No stacks of old magazines full of inspiring projects I'll never get to. No old papers waiting to be sorted. No half full bottles of lotions and potions filling the void under sinks.

What is this strange place all freshly washed and buffed? What silly creatures live thus? How can they move freely without having piles and rubble to hide behind should the need arise? Where is the thrill in creeping to the sink for water at night with no threat of broken limbs or stubbed toes?

How can they breath lemony fresh air and not wish for a few dust bunnies to scamper out and play?

The flowers are weeded and everything is swept, organized and arranged. No clutter. Saints preserve us...there is no clutter!

Clearly we have entered the land of HOUSE4SALE where all must be kept in perpetual cleanliness. Oh Lord, give me strength to tame the wild beasts roaming this land with only one thought...ESCAPE! I jest not. They live solely to mess; seeking out anything which can be left in haphazard abandon.

But, for this one night, they are in bed and all is calm, quiet, and clean. Awwwww. I may be high from the cleaning fumes but I suspect I may have to hide just a few dustballs back under the bed. Man wasn't meant to live on Pledge alone.

The Line in the -er-Lawn

As a military spouse I have, by necessity (not choice) become good at solo survival skills. I know how to jump start a car. I know what to do when I get a flat tire in the middle of no-where at 5:30 on a Friday. I can balance the checkbook, pay the bills, and if needed do the taxes. I know how to evaluate investments, find sitters in a pinch and when to head for the ER. Minor plumbing or electrical issues--thank God for Duct tape. Ask any military spouse how they cope and you'll probably get a shrug and a "you do what ya gotta do" answer. Sure it often requires the medicinal dark chocolate Milky Way or rum and coke but we deal.

Until now.

I noticed that there are several round holes in my lawn. The helpful neighbor next door told me they are most likely from snakes digging burrows.

That's it, the house goes on the market, TODAY. By happy coincidence we are planning to move but even if we weren't the house would be sold. NO FREAKIN' WAY am I sharing living space with snakes. I have coped with sneaky lizards that dart around when you least expect it, the occasional well behaved rodent has even been offered food and lodging. Teacup sized cockroaches have many fine qualities. But snakes? Oh no.

This I WILL NOT DO! I don't care what type they are, I don't care how they help balance the delicate ecosystem. I HATE SNAKES. It's not rational, thus it can't be changed with familiarity or education. Heck even the Bible recognizes that they are evil. As far as I'm concerned Eve should have sent Adam after that snake with a shovel and ended it right there.

Let us pause while my blood pressure descends from the stratosphere.

Great, now I have to clean out the garage so I can enter and leave the house solely through the garage, avoiding all non-concrete areas. Please God let someone buy the house quickly!

Meanwhile I mounting an anti-snake defense that would have changed the outcome at Thermopylae. Fair warning to any snakes contemplating entering the fortress: I only missed expert marksmanship by two shots: one went through the groin and the other through the head. I hit what I aim at.

Please God, let the house sell quickly.

To Shod or not to Shod?

Ok, here is today's point to ponder: are you a wonderful, fantastic, always wear shoes to protect your joints, kind of person, or a shoeless barbarian? Not that I have a personal bias or anything, but especially down here in FL shoes seem to be the one article of clothing most people would just as soon do with out. Not just when it's hot, either. Even on the rare non-balmy day, hordes of people slip on their flip flops and off they go.

Can I just pause here to say, "EEEIEWWE!"

I mean, really, flip flops have to be the lowest form of foot wear ever designed. I ought to know being up with all forms of dressing down. I mean it offers no support and depends on the wearing having such thick calluses between their toes that the strap rubbing up and down between their sensitive piggies doesn't drive them to commit mayhem. Another pause while I count to ten and think calming thoughts. BUT REALLY PEOPLE, HOW DO YOU STAND IT????

Feet should be smooth and soft, not unlike a baby's butt. If you can walk across hot coals without flinching, you don't have a strong mind, YOU HAVE NASTY FEET! I don't care if flip flops sometimes come adorned with all manner of sparkly doodads. It's just lipstick on a pig and you're not fooling ANYONE.

Besides, what if the urge to play footsy ever came over you? Try not to shudder with revulsion at someone's feet touching you and play along for a sec, 'kay? Which would you rather have sliding up your leg? A smooth silky foot with skin actually sensitive enough to feel, or calluses thick enough to double as alligator hide? BBBBRRRRRR, oh baby!

True, I probably couldn't slip off my double knotted Nike's discreetly under the table with my other Nike clad foot, and a flip flop barely stays on when you want them too, but still, who cares if you can take off the shoe if your foot is so manky?

Plus going barefoot on hard concrete leads to back, knee and joint pain. I kid you not. So shoeless barbarians enjoy your foot breath-ability. Someday the cobbler will get his due; you watch and see. Cute toenail polish aside those unsupportive shoes will cost ya someday.

The Easter Pig Needs Zoloft

As a kid my mom used to tease me about the "Easter Pig". It used to be funny. Not so much anymore when it is a little to close to home. It ceases to be funny about the same time you loosen those jeans.

Where was I? Right, the need for antidepressants. You'd think with the plethora of refined sugar, fat and chocolate leering at me every where I turn this time of year I'd have plenty of reasons to smile. I mean, I want my antioxidants as much as the next person, and chocolate is the best source right? Never mind that I have to keep my dentist on speed dial.

It's just not as much fun this year. Without Hubby around to appreciate our egg art, coloring eggs seems boring. Plus E Bunny just doesn't have as much fun hiding in the closet making baskets when it doesn't degenerate into loud giggles and "shush you'll wake the kids" sugar rush/cop-a-feel wrestling match with Hubba Bunny. (BTW I think we'll not tell Hubby about THAT nickname!) Plus Hubba Bunny is ALWAYS the one to get up early and hide the eggs! Who's gonna do that crap this year?

As much as we miss him on regular days it's sooooo much worse on holidays.

But as I tell the kids, it's a perfect time to reflect on sacrifice and redemption. Our small, temporary discomfort is so insignificant in the scheme of things. Time to stop wallowing in our own pain and reach out to those we can help. It's not "spring holiday" it's EASTER. Resurrection trumps season change.

Besides, Hubby will come home soon and until then there's always chocolate.