Say my NAME!

Does anyone else have this problem?  Listen to this song....


My hubby never says my name.

OK, to be fair, he might say my name once or twice a month, but somehow I always seem to miss it.  It's kind of like seeing a rainbow or shooting star - "Where, where, I didn't SEE it!!"

This is something I have noticed over the years.  I often wonder things like:
Did he forget my name?
Does he have a girl friend and he doesn't want to confuse our names so he just doesn't ever say mine?
Does he not like my name?
Maybe he calls me something else inside his head?  (besides the derogatory on most days) maybe I am more like a Jewel or Stella or Jennifer to him.
Is Kristen a hard name to say?

I always picture us as an old couple rocking away on the front porch one day (some day FAR FAR FAR into the future) and I wonder what he will refer to me as.  Old Lady? 

My co-worker and I have a little skit we often play out when we are having a stressful moment.  It's based on a story she told me about her deceased husband's parents.  It goes like this:
"BOB! (said BOOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBBBBB in a sweet twang)"
"Bob, come heeerrreeee" (sing-song-y twang)
"Aw Hell Lil, whatdoyawant?" (Twang, not so much sing song-y)
"Bob!"
and she wanted him to come and open a jar of pickles or something else equally trivial.  Of course he was always just about to sit down to watch Jeopardy, read the paper, or have a moment to himself in the bathroom, but good ole Bob came hobbling over every damn time he heard his name.

My own grandparents were famous for this act -
"RAYMEEEEEEE......." "Get the TV trays from the basement would you?"
and Ray would argue (practically tackle) with you about getting them himself.  Years later I discovered he wanted to get the TV trays because he could sneak a quick swig and take drag before making the hike back up the basement stairs with 6 TV trays while  his name was being called - "Raymeeee, where are you?"

Now my parents, well they call each other all kinds of names.  My Mom's name is Georgia Diane.  My Dad is William or Bill.  They call each other George and Charlie.

My brother's call me Kristy-Sue. My middle name is not Sue.  The full name is:
 Kristy-Sue you smell like poo and no one is ever going to marry you. ( I told THEM..... no one is ever going to marry you and say your name!)

My Mom calls me Krissy.  I especially loved this name being called from across the mall.

I had a boss who called me Red.

I have a customer who insists on calling me Kristie Brinkley because he likes to dream that I look like her.  He once asked me to call him Billy. FOR REAL.

My hubby, he just doesn't ever really call me - and not by my name.

Thankfully I have three.....

Got into a fight with not one, but two vacuums on Thanksgiving morning.  Thought I would do myself and the family a favor by vacuuming a little before leaving for the Great Turkey Day festivities at my brother's house.  The first vacuum (Circa 2000) proceeded to blow everything I was picking up right back out for about a half hour before I noticed.

After I threw that one out of the house (literally) the second vacuum (Circa 1996) stopped sucking 5 minutes in.  When I investigated, I proceeded to get a face full of dust when the bag exploded.  It's disgusting guts were everywhere. I cried.  Seriously.  Cried.  It was that disgusting and frustrating.

My son watched.  He was attempting to ask me if it was OK if he wore his Asking Alexandria t-shirt to Thanksgiving.  It is supposed to be a volcano on the shirt, but it looks like blood and vomit and while crying I tried to explain that it wasn't really an appropriate selection while using our third and last vacuum (Thankfully Circa October 2011) to clean up the mess.  I am pretty sure he got the point LOUD and clear.

Thankfully he suggested another concert t-shirt.  It had a nice picture of a wolf on it with red devil eyes.

Thinking the worst of the day was over, I would take a shower and come out in a festive mood no matter what.  I was super close to feeling normal and committed to positively thinking that I was going to look good this Thanksgiving.

My daughter heard my sharp intake of breath from the other side of the bathroom door and was asking me if I was OK.  At that moment I was holding my eyelid open with one hand and peeling my contact doused in cleaner off my eyeball with the other while trying not to curl up and die from pain.

While rinsing my eye in water for next half hour I asked myself this question:  WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS TODAY?

The swollen red eye I wore to Thanksgiving was a reminder of how thankful I was that the morning was now over.

The rest of the weekend was much better.

The Christmas tree is decorated.  (Circa 1995) The branches on the tree over time point down and the lights and ornaments are already sliding south.  By Christmas Eve when all our guests arrive, we will have a pile of lights and ornaments under the tree.

I purchased all of the exchange gifts  we need.  This is because I woke up Friday morning in a panic about what I was going to get three out of five of them and the hubby knew he wanted to sleep normally for the next four weeks.

The good news is that thankfully (Circa July 2011) I have all the Christmas presents I could have asked for.  Our new to us house.  For that and for my family here and everywhere, I am thankful!

Hope you enjoyed your weekend and enjoy your Holiday season even if you accidentally put cleaner in your eye at the most inconvenient times.

While I was Out....

I wasn't writing that is for sure.
I was buried under mounds of work at work.
I wasn't on vacation.
I was decorating for Christmas at home -Yes, really this early  (we have company coming)
I wasn't sick, injured or indisposed.
I was sick and tired, had a few minor decorating mishaps and still found no time to be indisposed.

But I am back with a little glimpse into my night:

We decided to put the Christmas trees up.  This is a feat in itself.  New house to us, old house that wasn't meant for big Christmas trees.

The cats sat in the corner watching and daydreaming about the fact that we all leave the house during the day so that gives them plenty of time for tree climbing.
The hubby concocted a plan to keep them out - if it works I'll let you in on the secret - it might make us a million.

I am a bit of a control freak.  About pretty much everything.
So our tradition is for the kids to hand me the ornaments (they have names for each and every one of them - not always appropriate but humorous nonetheless) and I put them on.  Normally they wander off half-way through leaving me trying to fill in the gaps.

But this year I was given the pleasure of trimming the tree while they (my two youngest GIRLS) took turns farting.  Yep farting.
Toot.  Giggle.  Rolling on the floor laughing.  Swearing from me.  Threatening to throttle them.   More laughing. More threats. More farts.

I think their grippers are shot.
We had a little Christmas Farty.  Bad language, threats and all.
Then they proceeded to pull their pants up to their chests and walk around pretending to be hillbilly's.  My next favorite thing.  My kids are really threatened by me.

But hey - tis the season for farting, and hillbilly fun.

While I was out I also celebrated this guy's Birthday:

And enjoyed my new favorite vintage thing:

and did a little of this and that:

Say Cheese!

I take the WORST pictures. SERIOUSLY the WORST.

I don’t mean me as the photographer, although I kind of suck at that too. I mean me as the subject. I am surprised I have not broken a few cameras. (Still talking about me as the subject.)

I look like I weigh at least 50lbs more than I really do. The skin under my chin must love when the camera comes out because it takes a better picture than I do. My eyes are always half shut, my hair looks 5x bigger than it is and my boobs look like torpedo’s.

I took a picture with my girls the other day and my daughter’s head comes up to my chest. In the picture, she looked like she had a large growth coming out of her face that was actually my boob.

Speaking of boobs – my bra SHINES right through my shirts in pictures. EVERY TIME.

In the last 5 years, I have approximately 5 pictures of myself and they are ALL AWFUL.

If someone TAGS me in a picture on Facebook, I am HORRIFIED (they really should not be allowed to do that without your permission) especially if it was a few days ago and I didn't have time to delete it.  My friends on the other hand are all super models.  Yes, even the guys.... (no wonder they were friends with me - I made them look better!)

It is really depressing to think you look one way (I DO look in the mirror) and then on paper or screen you look 10x bigger and more horrible than you could ever imagine.

What is even worse, the ONE picture I do not mind is my Drivers License picture. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Who takes a good DMV photo?? People who take BAD PICTURES, that's who.
It’s going to expire next year. Do you think they would let me keep it??

If you do EVER see a picture of me, it’s because it is the best I’ve got. But please remember, it’s at least 3x worse than I look in person.

Yes, I am blaming this all on my ability to TAKE A PICTURE, otherwise, I will be VERY depressed.

What's Your Vision?

 A few years ago my brother inspired me to practice The Secret and use a vision board which has worked for me in miraculous ways.  So, I thought I'd start a little tradition -
Vision Board Sunday

and here is what is on mine this week:

Normally, I am a strictly Alternative Rock kind of girl,but I heard this song and it made me want to dance like a teenager again.  Or workout like I'm going on Spring Break, or just .........smile and feel young.

I want one!

I'm in charge of Christmas Eve Dessert, so I'm envisioning how amazing it's going to look.(this one is going to need A LOT of positive energy)

Loving picturing how my woods floors will be at Christmas

Oh, to be able to see clearly all the time!!!!

Snow on Christmas!

This belongs to the sweet lady who cleans our house and does our laundry. 

and finally:

READING on VACATION

Share your Visions by linking to your site in the comments - Maybe we can all be inspired by each other.
Have a GREAT Week!



Don't Buy Potpourri - TRUST ME.

The hubby has to take the same shot EVERY year - in front of the cannon.

Yes we do recycle the costumes and yes, that is the last known Halloween picture of my oldest.

The oldest stopped dressing up.

Yep, that's him in the back.

The hubby and I had so much fun trick or treating last night that the kids were actually asking us what time it was, dragging their bags of loot and skipping houses before we realized they were done.  

  

What better opportunity to look inside the homes you admire on any normal day than when the door is hanging open and all the lights are on?

While I was peeking into the houses, the men with kids were busy trying to look somewhere else.  We got stuck behind a group of girls that looked like they were in college but probably were 15 and 16 years old. (if they were younger I am SCARED) they were dressed like – Sluts?  This is seriously the only theme I can possibly think they were going for.  

I am not a prude and I say wear whatever you secretly hope to be on Halloween. (which for most girls, WANTED is a common theme) but  in 38 degrees, an upper thigh high toga that does not cover “the upper girls” might not be a good idea.  

But it did give quite a few of the Dad’s two thoughts:  1) I can’t believe I am looking at that girl.  And 

2) my daughter is going to become Jehovah Witness before next Halloween.

There is a house near ours that really went all out and decorated every available space with Halloween décor.  But when we went past at exactly 9pm, they were almost done un-decorating.  

Talk about motivation not to mention GOOD IDEA. –the worst part of Holidays is the day after and looking at the stuff you have to put away.

When we got home, high on sugar and the fun of the night one of those random and annoying slam you back to reality moments happened. 

Culprit

 The sleeve of the coat I was carrying down the hallway caught on a basket sitting on a bench .  This basket is filled with pumpkin spice potpourri. (Like 3 bags worth of the stuff – smells like heaven)  As I continued to move past in my hurry to chase costume parts flying off of the little people,  the sleeve pulled the basket down and EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF POTPOURRI not only fell out, but propelled itself down the hallway, down the stairs (covering every bit of step as it went) and because the surface was smooth, scattered into every nook, cranny and crevice available. 

 I kept walking and breathing VERY deeply as I heard the terrible noise of it scattering and then my dear sweet daughter after a moment of shocked silence helpfully said: 

“ I am seriously glad I wasn’t responsible for THAT mess”. 

 She didn’t even give me time to blame it on them!!  The best way to sum it up, is that it truly SUCKED.    As bad as an entire full bowl of cereal spilling all over the kitchen floor right before you are trying to leave for work. (Happened the other day) or as bad as the expensive windshield wipers the hubby bought that do an awesome job of cleaning the window but WHISTLE like a nasty wind when you are driving and not using them. (Happening for the last several months – thankfully I listen to the radio LOUDLY)  It sucked like forgetting to take the crock pot filled with Broccoli Cheddar soup out of your car overnight. (Check!)

Meanwhile, I’ll be picking up pieces of pumpkin spice pot-crap-ourri  for the next decade.  (Which by the way for me, a new one starts tomorrow – I’m sure I’ll be telling you all about that revolting development in the days to come……)

Closer to the last decade than the next one.