“Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Yo, Yo…”

Archive for June, 2010

I needed a reminder. How about you?

I wish I knew where I got this so I could give credit.  In my days when I posed as an English Teacher, I would say that borrowing and not giving credit is “wickedness” and  “would not be tolerated” (yes those exact words )….but alas, I’m a hippo0-crite… and there you have it.  Can’t you see?  I’ve got other issues!

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Right now…

Right now my kids are coloring crayola masterpieces on huge boxes that packaged my cabinets (yes, almost fully assembled and ready to embrace all my food storage needs).

Right now I am in decompression mode – a calm between storms.

Right now I have a crush on my lemony yellow walls (actually it’s called Meadow Rue) and the temporarily painted gray floor.

Right now I am adoring my Chunk #1’s summer haircut and Chunk #2’s legs that are somehow skinny and chubby at the same time.

Right now I want to freeze time and put off the start of this crazy week.

Right now I need to get off the computer and go cut a cat for the Chunks.

Right now I’m also wondering when my children will stop loving cats so much….

What are you doing right now?


Baby steps

photo by el jefe

There is this place. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called “Ikea” [‘eye’-KEE-uh]. Sound familiar? (Read with sarcasm.)

It’s a Scandinavian Wonder. (You may or may not read with sarcasm, depending on your connection to Ikea)

If you haven’t been inside, at least, maybe, you’re eyes have beheld its blue and yellow box of a structure that beckons to the masses, including you, to come in and solve all your “organizational” problems, or your “empty apartment” problems, or your “I need some inexpensive mass produced, cool looking furniture” problems, or possibly your “I’m hungry and really need some Swedish meatballs and Lingonberry juice” problems. Whatever it is,  Ikea will make all your dreams come true. (A hint of sarcasm in the first loooooong sentence, not in the last sentence.)

photo by el jefe

We like Ikea.

It mostly stems from my husband having planted some serious roots in the land of Denmark for two years of his life. Ikea was alive and well there.  But it also stems from rebuilding the Blue Bungalow in a way that is interesting and “us” (aka fun)(jk) (no sarcasm).

I don’t care how mass produced the stuff there is. It really does make my dreams come true. You know, that dream of finishing a house.  We are one more step closer. Did you read that?  Another step (in about 1,000) closer. The Blue Bungalow and I are getting along right now. She is my refining fire towards patience. She has devoured my soul more than once but I am triumphant (and repentant), and all will be well.

And my husband is kind. Very kind. (It is possible to use sarcasm here for the sake of humor but will not allow it for the sake of our marriage.)


How to annoy me


While I  share a story with you that may appear to be self-deprecating but is actually just humorous, please interrupt me with sentences that begin with “Here’s what you need to do….” or “You should….

Make sure that I never actually get to finish telling my story and emphasize the fact that I desperately need your help in order to cope in this world.

Thank you.



One of my favorite poems: #2

The Runner
by Walt Whitman

On a flat road runs the well-train’d runner,
He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs,
He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,
With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais’d.

photo by el jefe

Yesterday I was talking with my brother about his triathlon and I remembered this man from mine. In the second mile of my 5k, after my muscles got less wobbly and more rhythmic, this man passed me. He gave me a flick of the wrist that said “Hello, you’re doing a great job, keep going.”

Yes, his wave said all of that.

After he passed me I saw that he was 68 years old (they write that on the back of one calf) and that he was running the Olympic Triathlon (signified on the other calf as an “O”), while I was only doing a Sprint Triathlon. I love this man. He bolstered me up while I ran on a steep hill.  He made me want to keep going. I want to grow up to be like this man.  He is the one I will always think of when I read “The Runner”.

And am I not lucky that my husband happened to get a picture of this man before I came running in?  Yes, so lucky.


No title….just thinking….

One day I will write my autobiography and I will call it “The Good Nerd.”

…because… you know… there are good nerds and there are bad nerds.

I fall under the former.  Why?  Because only a nerd enjoys to distinguish between “former” and “latter” and feels special while doing so. However a bad nerd would stroke her own ego for doing it and then make sure you, the audience, understood the distinction. I’m not stroking my own ego. I’m simply pointing out that I enjoy the difference between “former” and “latter” —

— kind of like how I used to enjoy Grover’s illustration of “near” (neeeeeaaaaaaar) and “far” (faaaaaaaaaaar) on Sesame Street.

Don’t steal that book title.  It’s mine I tell ‘ya.  MINE.

***Speaking of taking stuff — I don’t know who to give credit to for the above image (bad! bad nerd!).