I dare ya.....I double dog dare ya......

I triple dog dare ya to get one of these and get your hubby, wife, girlfriend, boy friend, mailman, donkey to do it with you. Cuz if you are as competitive as me....you're gonna wanna whoop who ever you are doing it with.

Last night after I'd gone to bed my SM got on the Wii. This morning when I got on I looked at the score board and Oooooh Nellie! Forget the laundry, forget getting the kids off to school properly I had a score to settle. Someone....last night....had beaten my scores! Oh, I appeared to be taking it lying down.

I will have you know that all stars are aligned once again. Peace and zen continue to orbit around the world. I have taken back my rightful 1st Place position and not only that! I am now rating at the ripe old age of 36 instead of 43. I have found the fountain of youth.

If you should need me.......I'll be signing autographs at the appointed space and time. Until then, I am humbly letting my SM know that I whooped him.

I'm having a Wii fit about the Wii

Doctor's orders. I'm to do physical therapy three times a week. Here's your prescription..have a nice day.

Just about as good a suggestion as when I was pregnant and had a gazillion little ones at home and the doctor would say, "you need to put your feet up and rest"..... Yaaaa riiiiight. I'm gonna work on that one!

Obviously, not plausible because you see, I have this wee one at home with me still that I kind of need to take care of and well.....some days I'm just not able to get out of the house and go and do that aquatics physical therapy ya know? I've got soaps to watch..or something.

Remember this post? About my rockin family training for and doing the triathlon? I mention it here too...... and here. Ya well.....guess what? I was training for it too and I really thought I was going to be able to do it and then well.....so after laying on the couch for two years and in bed for the last three months my muscles are kind of muscles? I'm not sure they can even be called that any more can they if there is no definition?

The physical therapy is supposed to help that. Among other things like repairing damaged nerves and stuff. I'd LIKE to throw on my running shoes like times of old and run out the door pounding my frustrations out on the pavement for a few miles or kick and box the heck out of those same frustrations. But no, no exercising or "over doing it".

So, last night my SM brings me home a Wii fit all wrapped up in smiles. "Hey honey, I heard that you can do yoga on this Wii fit and thought maybe you could try it!"......dead silence....SM standing at door with Wii fit still in hands as smile starts to fade.....

Me: Ummm, yoga. Yoga as in sit cross legged on a mat, eyes closed, while some bizarre music that sounds suspiciously like an angry bee buzzes around my head?

SM: Chuckling. Ya, something like that.

Me: As in breathe in......breathe out......visualizing harmony and peace all around.

SM: Still chuckling. You got it.

Me: YA WELL NO! Absolutely not, you know what happened last time I tried that breathing thing. Took that class. I breathed oh I breathed and I was good at it too and you remember what happened? A football came flying out my back side. No one told me that if I breathed like that I'd give birth to a gremlin and no one told me that if I got it wet it would multiply either! I had to figure THAT one out on my OWN. Seven gremlins later...........

SM: Shaking his head seriously concerned. Come on honey, let's just try it. (Gremlins chanting in the back ground. Go mom, go mom, go mom.......traiters.)

Me: Okay, I'll try it but it isn't going to work. Dumb hippy yoga zen trend......

So, we plug it in and it asks all sorts of questions and then asks me to stand on the Wii board thingy and then the thing has the gall to tell me in this stupid wobble head spandex wearing "trainer" voice that I am under weight, a wimp, and working at about the level of someone who is 43!

Me: This thing is a piece of junk! I can't believe you spent that much money on a stupid glorified bathroom scale that throws insults at me while wearing spandex!

SM: Laughing hideously and oh so ready for me to back hand him. Through the tears.....just give it a try. Come on, I'll do it with you.

Me: Fine, I'll show that spandex wearing wobble head a thing or two. Bring on the yoga! He's no idea who he's messin' with.

SM: Ummm, honey....it's not real. He's not real. He can't hear you!

Me: Don't mess with me, I know what's real and what's not! Bring it on. Show me your worst ya Yoga Nazi.

A half hour later......

SM: Honey, you need to shut that thing off. I'ts time for bed.

Me: Hush...Can't you see I'm breathing here? You're ruining my zen!

Toilet paper....I have issues.

Who ever invented this little handy diddy obviously does not have children......boys more specifically.

I have issues with toilet paper. I have ever since I can remember. I am a toilet paper snob.

When I was little and we would go and visit my grandmother, she would always give us the toilet paper lecture. Only three squares! That's all! Being little, and having toilet paper issues this didn't make me happy. From the beginning of potty training time I knew the purpose of toilet paper. It is a huge wadded up barrier between skin and what is being wiped up. I did not/do not want skin to come in contact with said need to be wiped up mess which my boys from time to time have turned into Picasso works of art as they sit in what I can only imagine is boredom. Why else would they even entertain such a disgusting form of art......hence.....not understanding the contraption pictured above. (Note: Art work in this form is quickly shut down and is done by boys when they are young--I do need to save my boys' dignity from time to time--they can't help having me for their mother.)

I can remember sitting in my grandma's bathroom in a quandry holding those three tiny squares of toilet paper and wanting soooo bad to take some more. Oh, if I could just steal even two more squares! Somehow in my little twisted mind I had images of my grandma with a spy camera counting each and every square as I pulled it off of the roll. I was just sure she had some way of knowing if I took more than my three squares and would yell through the door if I attempted to take more. And so......I hated to go potty at grandma's house.

As an adult in my own home I accept nothing but the best. I want the softest most thickest and I wad enough up on my hand like a pro boxer getting ready for the ring.

The other day I was at a store and needed to use the biffy. As I sat there pulling on the tissue paper I was transported back to my grandmother's bathroom. I call it tissue paper. Next to toilet paper it looks starved!

As I pulled on the tissue it kept breaking. I couldn't even get enough to wrap around my hand once! Pull....rip.....pull......rip.......pull.......rip. After pulling confetti for a few minutes I held up a piece and realized that the tissue was actually perforated every so often. About three squares in length. Then I realized something terrible. I WAS back in my grandmother's biffy reliving the horror of only THREE SQUARES all over again.....

If you do not believe in those who have gone on speaking from the grave belive you me, if ever there is proof I had it that day. Who ever made that tissue paper had my grandmother drumming in their ears....."only three squares...only three squares....only three squares...."

The threads that make up Levi

On Sunday as we were all getting ready to leave after church it was pointed out to me that something was seriously wrong with Levi's sweater. Levi being my son with AHC and who is mentally handicapped.

Levi was doing his little on his tippy toes bouncy walk that he does which in and of itself is a crack up. Levi is not "little" by any means. He's big. He's thick and he's heavy. I've never had to buy husky sized pants until Levi. Picture a little child about the age of 3 mincing on their tippy toes doing a half walk half run. This is what Levi does excepting he looks like a moose trying impersonating a ballerina. It doesn't work but it makes us smile and giggle when ever he does it and he gets this mischievous grin on his face. A memory of him I hope to keep forever.

Anyway, on Sunday as he was mincing away from our group we noticed a looooong white piece of yarn hanging from the back of Levi's sweater and knew......this was not a good sign. Upon closer inspection it confirmed our fears. The sweater if left alone was unraveling and unraveling fast. The sweater would not last but if we hurried and got it off of him we might be able to salvage the sweater. We carefully took the sweater off of Levi and came home.

I thought a bit more about that sweater and Levi and couldn't help but compare. A beautiful piece of work, of art that doesn't quite have all of the loops and threads attached. Left to its own would deteriorate but in the hands of a Master could be repaired and fixed good or better than new.

I'm breaking up......it's a good thing.

In October when my West Nile lit me up like the




My brain started doing this:



Never in my life had I had seizures and admittedly at first they were really scary but there is something to be said for being some what coherant during them as I've been blessed to be. I say some what because I think I'm coherant but it is obvious when I come out of one thinking only a minute has gone by and my SM tells me that it has been more like a half hour or longer......apparently I'm not as coherant as I'd imagined.

If you did not think I was completely loony and off my rocker before, you surely will think I am now after I tell you what I am about to say. If ever I had a shred of dignity or thought that I had a tiny shred it will be completely gone after I admit this latest.





When I'm in the middle of a seizure I start to giggle inside. I can't react on the outside but inside I am watching myself and it is funny to me. If I could react you can be sure I'd be laughing my head off. What can I say.......I'm entertainment deprived.





My seizures have been a pretty constant companion and source of entertainment for three months until this last month........it would appear that they have vacated me and moved on. I do believe that I must now find another source of entertainment.

Farwell my companion of three months....you've been gone now for four weeks and I can't say that I've missed you.....I'm sorry if I've hurt your feelings but we've grown out of each other and it is time to move on. Don't be sad, I look back on our time together with nothing but humor. Some would say that you had a crippling effect on me making it so I couldn't drive. I don't harbor any ill feelings. I don't like to drive in the snow anyway.

If you do decide to pop in every once in awhile my advice to you would be it is better if we make a clean break. Breaking up is hard to do but it is for the best. I wish you all the luck in the world! Farewell!

Sewing 101 ! Ask someone else to do it.

This is why the rants lately about sewing. This is why if you came to my house right about now you would encounter a pile of hair and me stumbling around bald with red glazed eyes. In theory it is a darling outfit is it not?

The little leggings alone with that ruffle on the bottom....they just spoke to me. What can I say? I saw the pattern and forgot all about my sewing ineptness. I have been sewing for three days working on this! Reason number 7 that I shouldn't have gotten out of bed the other day and started this mess.

As you can see the sleeves still aren't finished nor is the bottom ruffle on the dress. That would be because as I was FINALLY rounding the bend....I could see home plate in sight........I ran out of thread........

Didn't surprise me. In fact when it happened I threw back my head and started to have an out of control hysterical melt down laugh. The dress you see, the pattern had a flaw. Two major flaws which I have informed the company of, and they checking the pattern confirmed the mistakes. This of course AFTER I'd cut out and started sewing the dress. The sleeves didn't match up by an entire INCH and another small wee factor......the pattern is undersized. It is too small. What should be a loose dress on my baby girl is a tight fitting throw up of color.





What you see pictured here is the matching bandanna. Guess what? It fits! So do the pantaloons, in fact, the pantaloons fit so well I could fit two of my baby girl in them.

If you don't feel sorry for me yet....let me also point out that not only was I making this for my baby girl but another for my niece who is turning 8 in February. I have TWO dresses that are too small.......and yes, I measured everything including my daughter first. According to the pattern....it should have fit....it wasn't until after the fabric was cut out and the first seams sewn that it became apparent that it was too small.

Anyone have a wig they'd like to lend me?

And further more.....

Since I am in the frame of mind for making announcements........I am also a lousy sewer. Is that spelled right? Cuz that looks an awful lot like sewer as in where rats spend their vacations.

Actually, if you saw my sewing you would agree with me that it belongs in the sewer so either spelling fits and that brings us to another announcement. I'm a lousy speller....but you already knew that.

Just call me Pocahontas.

I hereby announce to the world of blogging that I am a lousy writer.

My father was here recently and we were discussing what makes a good writer. As we continued to discuss the subject it became very apparent as to where my writing skills lie.

You see, here's why. A writer doesn't assume that everyone knows what they are talking about. Ummm, that would be ME! If someone were to start reading my blog say today.....or yesterday......they would read it and go, "huh"? Not only that but there is a lot of inside Mormon humor that I use and well duh! Not everyone is Mormon now are they? Just because I live in UT and am surrounded by the lot......take this entry for instance. If you were not Mormon and didn't live in UT you'd have no idea who DI is and think that I'd had some falling out with some weird friend. DI being Deseret Industries. The Good Will or Salvation Army of UT if you will. The place that you go and dump all of your unwanted stuff that someone else might want to use.

Or this entry. Why the heck is that woman in a hospital bed driveling on about Edward and what does Edward have to do with a mosquito and WHY IS SHE IN THE HOSPITAL snorting oxygen? If you'd not been following all along which I snottily assume.....you'd not know that I feel about as highly of mosquito's as I do Stephanie Meyer's books. They both suck! And they both make me sick.........VERY sick.......

So, I happily waltz along thinking that you know that I got West Nile two years ago.....have been spiraling down hill since.......landed in the hospital in October of this year with a MAJOR West Nile blow up to my system and am still recovering. Something that may take years but lets hope not. I'm an impatient person.

Did I mention anywhere that I have an extremely sexy husband? Cuz if you were reading along and saw SM you might think SM stands for Stinky Man.....Sweaty Man.......Swashbuckling Man (not too far off with that one)........Schizophrenic Man.........

SM stand for Sexy Man. Natives stands for what the SM and I reproduced. We have seven of them. One girl amongst the six savages. Having natives and savages for spawn does not make me a squaw.




Unless I can look like this...then you can call me a squaw. However, it does make my SM a warrior.

Does that bring you up to date? Does that answer your questions? Hello! This thing on? Tap Tap Tap!

6 Reasons I should have stayed in bed

• One of the dogs barfed on my baby girls bedroom floor.

• I have a HUGE ZIT on my chin. It is so big that I keep bumping into walls and bouncing off corners because it sticks out so far!

• I dumped egg shells into the natives scrambled eggs so now they are all calling a mutiny.

• My special needs boy pooped BEFORE school so I had to change his diaper instead of letting the school deal with it.

• My bathroom sink decided to choke on a hair ball and plug up.

• I'm all out of European chocolate candy bars........so now I am going to have to send my SM BACK to Germany since I ate a years supply in two days.

Why my SM travels so much

I feel that it is time to come out in the clear on this subject. Many of you come and put your arms around me and tell me how sorry you are that my Sexy Man has been once again called out of the country.





I have pretended to moan and groan on your shoulders telling you how hard it is being a single parent but that we are managing. We are tough and used to it.





The truth of the matter is, my SM's company wouldn't send him so often if I didn't have a craving for all of THIS! So, when our supplies run low and they do tend to run low quickly........I call my SM's boss and tell him to send my husband to Germany NOW!





My SM comes home from work and with a sad look on his face says, "I've some bad news honey. I've got another business trip to Germany". To which I reply, "Oh honey, that is such a bummer.....here's your bags. I've got em all packed for ya! See ya when you get home and don't forget to fill that extra bag I put in with your luggage". SMOOCHES!!

I realize you can buy most of this stuff here now in the US but I'm tellin' ya. Once you've tasted the real deal....it just aint the same....and so....the story goes....and we are yet happy once again and our belly's delightfully full of European gummi's, chocolate, Nutella, and cheese since my SM got back on Friday from another "business trip". Sssshh, don't give away my secret. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

Conversations with my ten year old son

The little native on the right in the blue shirt and I had an interesting conversation yesterday. It went something like this:

Native: Mom, does it take very long to build a house?

Mom: It took nine months to build ours.

Native: Wow! That is almost a year! They took breaks for like dinner right?

Mom: Yup!

Native: I'm gonna build my own house.

Mom: Oh really? How come?

Native: So I won't have to pay. It won't cost any money if I do it myself.

Mom: It still costs money. You have to buy all of the supplies.

Native: That's okay. I'll just go and find me some land and start building me a house.

Mom: You can't. You have to pay for the land.

Native: Well, I'm a boy and boys are men. Men can build houses. At least they should be able to. We do stuff like that.

Happy Dance!

I have been seizure free for over two weeks. Ya baby! Let's dance shall we and squash all mosquito's in the process.

The truth about Edward....what Stephanie does not want her readers to know.

This is Edward......




and this is what happened after he bit me........think he's sexy now ladies?

(Side note: The hospitalization......not the yummy fruit basket of which I was not able to partake of.....)

It's not my fault....I come by it naturally!

I have always run through life rather than walked. I have done this since the beginning of time and I have proof. In the days before I came here to this earth I was running to and fro ready to take on this world. I ran from line to line grabbing my body parts and so it is no surprise that in doing thus, I got into the wrong line. I thought I was in the boobs line but in fact......I was in the BOOTS line.

We've had this discussion before remember here? Where I have tried to since make up for it but alas.....fake never did work for me.

I tell you all of this because from time to time (like every week) in this here house hold we have the same borring discussion. Nobody understands my need for more boots...or shoes...but especially boots! I can't help it! I got in the boots line and so it is positively in my genetics making up of me. If you were to take out my heart and put it in some one elses body (hypothetically speaking because I'd have to be dead to do that....or you'd have to kill me......neither one sounds very appealing) and placed my heart in some one elses body then that person would walk around in the same like manner as me driven to getting more boots.





It can't be helped. Come on! Tell me seriously that you do not feel that if you had these boots you could be the President of the United States. These things kick!



Make no bones about it. These would be a perfect addition to my new




Electra Betty Beach Cruiser! Not classy enough for you?




How about these? They are on sale even! Just under $2,000.00 A bargain if you ask me and since we'll be saving so much money on one pair......it leaves room for another don't you think?



Like these.........Oh my......I could do amazing things in these I just know it.



Everyone has a little pirate in them. Some are more willing than others to show it. I'm not judgin' ye. I'm okay for hiding these under some fabulous jeans and when you think no one is looking pulling the leg of em up from time to time to catch a glimpse......or for those who are teasers.....wearing these under a long skirt so that as you walk folks will catch a glimpse from time to time. I have my secrets too. Every Sunday in the winter I wear boots. I get all dolled up in my finery and then I put on my boots. What nobody knows.....is that inside them boots......is good ol' comfy sports socks. You tell anyone and I'll deny it profusely and then cut out your tongue.

Sharing is a sin.

I have tried time and time again to teach my children the importance of being selfish and thinking only of ones self. Survival of the fittest. I do not believe in being a hypocrite. Have I shared my West Nile with any of my children or SM? No, of course not because it is all about me. It is MY virus and I am NOT going to share. Do you think they listen? My baby girl went and got the flu. If she wants the flu then that is fine. It is hers and hers alone. The second I turned my back! She went and shared with her brother who I am sure if I do not keep a close eye on him will try to share with his other brothers.



What a pain in the bahooty!

No, it's not a trilobite.

What do you get when you cross yummy sweet bread over left over ham, cream cheese, pepper jack cheese, and green peppers?



Down home goodness.

Levi is my favorite and I'll tell you why.

Time to take down the Christmas decorations. Last night after the natives had gone to bed my Sexy Man took down the tree for me. A HUGE project considering how many ornaments we have that have to be carefully stowed away.

This morning when Levi got up and saw the tree missing he asked:

Levi: Where is the tree?
Daddy: It is gone!
Levi: Who took it?
Daddy: The Grinch.
Mommy: Who's the Grinch?
Levi: Daddy.

Thaz right! And don't you forget it! Let it be known in the records of history that for once! The title of the bad guy went to some one else other than me. And that folks......is why Levi is my favorite today.

Back in the olden days.......

My baby girl was spoiled rotten this Christmas by her grandma. Grandma sent her this darling apron and headband.



Grandma also sent my baby girl this doll with a matching apron and head band.



The dolls name is, "Julie" which happens to be the name of my baby girls best friend. With the doll grandma also sent all of the Julie stories.



I asked my baby girl when "Julie" lived. She looked in her books and told me. I said, "oh cool. She's my age. She was born a year after me!" My baby girl said, "ya, she was born in the olden days.............."

Kidnapped.....again

Once again the natives have kidnapped my camera and it isn't until I download my photo's that I am made aware of their shenanigans.

It would appear from this lot of photo's that the subject matter or victim would be little Eva, my 3rd boys' bunny.




I wonder how bunnies feel about their fellow equines. Care to really bounce bunny?



Isn't she adorable? I wish that when my eyes had been created they had been put together with natural eye liner. I hate applying make up every day..which is why I don't! I'm lazy that way.




We love Brio trains in this house. I think Eva likes Brio too. Great for gnawing on....not that we let her, grief! What kind of a mother do you think I am? Lazy? Ya, you're probably right and not just about putting on make up.




I'm a sucker....thaz whut I is.

Hey baglady!

My hair started to turn a lovey shade of shimmer when I was a Senior in high school. I can remember plucking the one or two stray grays. Now, if I were to pluck I'd be bald so the alternative is to either come out on stage and shimmer and glow or hide in a closet under the guise of color in a box.

Personally, I really do not care if my hair is shimmery. I prefer to call it shimmer instead of gray.....gray sounds so drab and cold and color less. Kind of like today. A cold drab gray day. My SM likes my darker hair though and thinks I'm not mature enough to carry off the full shimmer so he colors my hair for me.

I have come out and told the awful confession in this post that I'm not an environmentalist but I do believe in recycling grocery bags. They make lovely hats don't you think?

"My minds not twisted......just bent in several strategic places"

Kids went back to school today. So sad, vacation is over. I decided since I was feeling pretty good that I would start to put Christmas decorations away.



One of the first things I'd put up was this nativity. There have been some years where I've kept it up all year long just because I love it so much.




This year I noticed that the natives have once again added their own personal touch.





This is what Santa gave me in my stocking this year among other things. When Star Wars was huge (when is it not in this house) I was given the title "Jabba".



I'm starting to get a complex, but don't worry. It won't cost you much, "JUST YOUR VOICE.........life's full of tough choices....IN'T IT?"

Off with their heads! And kindly wrapped in tissue paper....

Have you ever read, "Girl of the Limberlost"? Gene Stratton Porter is by far one of my favorite authors. (I have many........). I have read Girl of the Limberlost several times and each time I read the part about the little boxes that she makes for her friends with all of the little gifts in it wrapped up in tissue paper I find it quite charming.


I suppose that is why when Kirsten received this little box for Christmas from a friend I was so taken and charmed by it. It reminded me of gifts given long ago.

According to this friends mother, the floral paper that the box was wrapped in had been saved for like FOREVER. The paper had been given to this girl and she, delighted with it had saved it for the perfect opportune moment to use it.

This little lady is a few years older than my baby girl but is quite taken with my baby and loves her to pieces. My baby girl of course adores this friend and thinks she is the world and all that!

For days my baby girl would look at this pretty package under the tree with her name printed on it. A pretty piece of floral tied with yarn and a candy cane.




The moment came for my baby girl to open her gift and she was not disappointed. Inside wrapped up in tissue was a little family of mice having tea, some stickers, some beads, and a shiny quarter for Kirsten and this adorable note telling Kirsten that all but one of the mice's heads come off!