Markel Farkel Friday

Hooker boots!

As you may know — but probably wish you didn't — in light of these horrible dark economic times, I've been searching long and hard ... searching for the perfect black leather boots. (I'm deep, I know.)

I found a pair a couple of weeks ago. They were perfect in every way.

Except one.

And that one thing was pretty important. They hurt my feet like hell.

I tried wearing them around the house, but they killed my arches. So back they went.

But now, tah dah! I have new boots:

My mom thought these made me look like I had Barbie feet. I thought they looked vaguely like hooker boots — my mom did assure me that it was not the case.

The only thing that stopped me from getting these boots originally was the platform. I'm a tall girl (relatively of course, my cousins and brother would disagree), I don't need platform boots. But they passed all the other tests, so now I finally have (slightly hookerish, but that's not all together bad, is it?) black boots.

Just doin' my part to save the economy.

I can't wait for this show

Today is one of those days

Today is one of those days where I love my kid, but ...

I want to throttle her.

My kid is sick. I know that I can be difficult when I'm sick, but at least I have the common courtesy to take it out on my family and not on doctors and nurses.

Margaret has a cold and a terrible sore throat. I fear strep so I made an appointment to see the doctor and to get a strep culture.

She saw the doctor. But she didn't get the strep culture.

Why? Because she didn't want to. She said it didn't feel good. Um, sister, no duh. But you get it done so anyway. That's the beauty of life.

She'd stick out her tongue, but as soon as the nurse got the swab in her mouth, that tongue would recoil.

The nurse was kind and patient. I tried to be patient, then I tried to make her laugh, then I tried not to clamp my hands around her neck (successfully! Yay for self control!).

But the doctor said it didn't look like strep ... yet. It was probably just a virus.

As a child I don't ever remember saying no to a doctor or a teacher or anyone in authority (OK, maybe my parents, but I knew it came with a price). I'm not sure where she gets this from, but she's always been like this. I blame her father's genes.

Of course, I do also sympathize with her and am kind of glad that she will stand up for herself (even if it's utterly wrong to do so). And I love her more than I'm frustrated with her, so life goes on.

And she's still one of my most favorite people to be around. Mostly she's a really great time.

I wrote about spending time indoors with her and with our friends and family over here.

At the end of that post, I mention playing the game of Things. The funniest part of playing that game was my dear friend Tracee saying, "I can't make eye contact with any of you" because our answers were so far beyond the realm of good taste.

Hey look it's Tuesday

My mom and Margaret are home sick with colds. My right kidney is acting like a little bitch and nagging me in a way that makes me want to punch it. But punching yourself in the kidney is very hard to do ... and stupid, too.

Even though stupid is as stupid does, I'm going to post some pictures my mom took while we were in Aspen a couple of weeks ago instead.

When my mom saw my left finger in this picture she said, "Kelley will like that one."

Kelley has a veritable buffet of flip offs. It's quite impressive.

I like this picture because I look like a cyclops. What girl doesn't dream of being a cyclops?

In this one, Mar and I are chickens ... duh!

Wha'? You don't act like chickens at restaurants? How sad.

25 Random Things

I got double tagged to do this 25 Random Things meme on Facebook by both Cari and Marlys.

So here it goes:

1. I usually ignore most memes, chain letters, chain e-mails and the like unless I really like the person who sent it and/or I'm in the right mood.

2. I have a weird relationship with rules: I follow some with an obsessiveness and others I pretend don't apply to me (don't even think of changing the rules of Farkel or turning without using your blinker around me).

3. I started playing the guitar five years ago because everyone else in the family had musical instruments. I never intended to be in a band or write original music. I just wanted to learn to play Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi, so I could sing along.

4. I wear all black to work every day because I'm too lazy to figure out outfits that go together.

5. Two winters ago I had six black turtleneck sweaters that were exactly the same and I wore them every day to work for three months. It was awesome.

6. I love the scarf, purse and wallet I got for Christmas this year, but not as much as the Gibson Flying V Bill gave me.

7. The last New Years Eve show my band played, I screwed up the count down to midnight simply because I counted wrong ... outloud ... into the microphone.

8. I love to make fun of myself. But am trying to do it less, because it hurts my self-esteem.

9. I will pretty much do anything to make other people laugh. This gets me into trouble.

10. I didn't drink any alcohol for over four years.

11. I started again when my dad got sick.

12. I miss my dad so much, but I love having my mom with me. I feel selfish about that.

13. I wish my mom would live with us forever.

14. I've become obsessed with what my family eats and I bug them about it relentlessly.

15. If I wasn't me, I'd probably think I was annoying and talk about myself behind my back (especially when I'm hounding my family about food.)

16. I get crushes on things and people and will cyberstalk the object of my crush.

17. I'm obsessive about my skin and spend a lot of time and money trying to save it.

18. My life is very stressful right now and sometimes I just want to cry over it, but I don't.

19. Playing music with Laurena, Kelley and Scott is the best stress reliever there is.

20. I love my bandmates like they were family and hope we stay together forever.

21. Having my daughter was the one the two best decisions decisions I ever made.

22. Marrying Bill was the other.

23. I'm jealous of how kind and lovable Bill is.

24. I know that I don't deserve him.

25. I love my family more than I can ever show.

Markel Farkel Friday

I'm so thankful for Markel Farkel Friday — I've never been so excited for a day of the week like I am for this one.

Worded Thursday

Since I missed Wordless Wednesday yesterday and I'm all harumphy and whiny today (hey stress, suck it), here are some pictures of Nastia.

Yep she's crawling around on top of our hangers in our closet. She loves to get up there (by climbing up our clothes — darn cat) and batting the light cord. I could discourage her and she does take direction well, but opening up the closet to see a little kitty face eye to eye is pretty awesome.

Where were you?

Where were you when our first tan president was inaugurated yesterday?

I got to hear that pastor guy give his invocation and use every name of Jesus he could think of and Aretha belt out My County Tis of Thee, but just as our 44th president was to give the inaugural oath and give his speech, I was enduring the most painful dental experience of my life.

I was just having a crown prep — something I've had done five times before — but something went wrong with the Novocaine.

My tooth didn't numb and I endured drilling of an un-numb tooth for way too long before I finally stopped my dentist. He apologized (not that it was his fault) and then I endured several more shots and finally my tooth numbed up.

By then the migraine medication I took earlier in the day coupled with the dentistry drugs had a bad effect on me. I came back to work feeling like a zombie.

I finished up my work and bailed.

I was looking forward to following Obama's inauguration, but instead I retreated to the safety of my futon room and wallowed.

It could've been worse, of course, we could be facing another idiot administration. Thank goodness for smart politicians, let's hope he can get something done.

No style points awarded

Oh, it was a glorious weekend. Sunday was the crowning jewel.

We got up relatively early (for us on a weekend) threw our gear in the car, picked up our favorite family of cohorts and headed up Grand Mesa to Powderhorn.

The sun was shining and the snow was fine. And I skiied.

Yep, I skiied even though my snowboard and virtually brand-new boarding boots sat neglected yet again.

I haven't been boarding in a couple of years since I sprained my ankle. Instead, I grew to love the spectator sport of watching Mar ski while I dodged back and forth between the base of the bunny slope and the bar (mmm beer).

I promised Bill that I'd get back on my board this year. I vowed that Mar and I would take lessons — her to improve on her solid ski basics and me for a refresher course on how best to not fall on my plentiful ass.

But instead I said to hell with it and even though I haven't skied in 10 years, I rented skis for the day.

And I'm so glad I did.

Mar and I spent most of the day traversing the bunny slopes. We made it down a few blue runs and did quite well. And except for the one run after lunch when I couldn't ski fast enough to get away from Mar's singular bout of whining, it was really a shitpotful of fun (is that how it's spelled, shitpotful? Or it is shit pot full? or shit potful? I'm gonna have to ask Google. Hang on. Hm, there doesn't seem to be a consensus, but shitpotful seemed plentiful so I'm going to stick with that.)

Of course the day had an inauspicious start in that on the first run down, Mar leaned too far back and ended up bombing down the hill sitting on the back of her skis. Needless to say, she was ready to call it a day right then and there. But I yelled at her a bit and forced her back on the lift (my parenting skillz are inspiring, no?).

The scariest thing I learned on the slopes yesterday was that while Mar handles stress just like I do (crying, whining and generally acting like a brat), she also is very much like her father, too (thank goodness).

Along side a couple of the bunny runs are some horrible, bumpy trails through the trees. Later in the day, as her confidence grew, Mar started trying some of those trails.

And. She. Loved. Them.

I tired them, too, only to end up be heckled by some dudes on the lift shouting "more fries and less pizza" meaning my exaggerated snow plow wasn't the way to make it through the trail.

For not having skied in 10 years, I did remarkably well, if I do say so myself, and I didn't fall at all.

OK, it wasn't actually a fall skiing as much as a fall trying to get off the lift with one ski on.

Yeah.

Mar and I were getting on the lift for the last time before they closed down and we in good spirits, although a bit tired.

I had a lapse in attention once we got sat down and kicked my right ski back too soon. Next thing I knew I was looking back over my shoulder at my right ski impaled into the ground and the guy behind us awkwardly raising his snowboard to avoid smacking it.

Much to Margaret's delight, I started shouting, "My ski, my ski."

The lift operators didn't notice because it happened way after we were seated and on our way.

Finally they heard my shouting, plucked the ski from the snow and thrust it into the unwilling hands of a snowboarder on his way up the lift.

My right ski was five chairs behind us and I had to get off the lift.

The lift operator saw us coming ... or should I say, heard Margaret laughing and slowed the lift down while I feebly tried to ski-walk off the lift.

I immediately crumpled into a pile and tried to shimmy out of the way as Mar skied away bent at the waist, laughing hysterically.

Oh the things I'll do to entertain my kid.

Markel Farkel Friday

Chub-a-lub

We just started a contest here in the office at The Daily Sentinel. It’s loosely based on the hit TV show, The Biggest Loser.

Those of us wanting to shed some unwanted pounds (are there really “wanted” pounds? Well, I guess Richie gets to add those wanted baby pounds) are weighing in weekly with prizes going to the one who loses the most weight percentage.

The best thing about this contest is that it’s got us talking about our weight, our eating habits (and drinking habits) and it’s got us thinking about what we want for ourselves.

I’ve always been a chunky girl ... click here to continue reading

Wordless Wednesday

Delurking Day

I just found out it's National Delurking Day.

So all y'all should leave me some comment love, if'n you want to. If you don't, I'll just assume bad, bad, smelly things — this means you, mom.

Cheers.

The 1970s were scary

I am a child of the '70s, being born in the flagship year of 1970. I don't remember it being a completely garrish time, but I was young and apparently blind as a child.

Below is excerpts with some insightful commentary on the fashion of 1977 via the JCPenney catalog (click the full-screen button on the top right for easier viewing):

JCPenney1977

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Catalogs Consumer jcpenneys

Markel Farkel Friday

TGIMFF!

Update on the Giant Pencil

On Nov. 3, I introduced you all to the Giant Pencil (imagine that being said through a grand megaphone — Giant, iant, iant, iant Pencil, encil, encil, encil!).

It's been almost two months, so let's check in with me Giant Pencil (imagine that being said with an Irish accent).

The giant pencil is now 13-1/2" — down from it's original 16".

That's 1-1/4" a month.

At this rate, I'll need a new Giant Pencil (imagine that being said however you want) before Christmas!

Wordless Wednesday

Product Review: Red Devil Duckie *blush*

Shortly after the fine folks at Nokia asked me to review their 6650 cell phone, I received another product-review request.

While I jumped at the chance to review the cell phone, I was hesitant to review the products of this other company.

So I sent them this e-mail:

Thank you for your interest. I am very intrigued by your offer. I'm not sure that I would give you the review your are seeking, in that, mostly I like to make fun of stuff. But if you're interested in ridiculous review that would be appropriate for my mother to read, then I would love to review your products - respectfully, of course, but with tongue in cheek, for sure.

Being an open-minded type of company (understatement), they agreed to allow me to review one of their products.

The company is Eden Fantasys — they are a sex-toy Web site (I'm overlooking the misspelling of "fantasies" simply because when you sell things that are designed to stick into any type of orifice, taking liberties with spelling is A-OK).

So yeah, this is a sex-toy review.

Never thought you'd read about such things here ... well, neither did I.

After agreeing to write the review, the fine folks at Eden Fantasys decided to start me out on an easy product; a sex toy with training wheels, if you will — something that wouldn't scare me or my readers too much.

This is the product they sent me:

Look how cute. It's the Red Devil Duckie Discreet Vibrator.

With the operative word being "discreet" — I was never so happy that I chose this product as I was yesterday.

My 8-year-old daughter, was looking for our kitten and she ran into the room holding the Red Devil Duckie above her head yelling, "I found a duckie!"

On the outside, I acted nonplussed and simply said, "Oh yeah. That's mine" and took it from her while reminding her that the kitten was still missing.

Thank goodness she willing handed it over and went off in search of our little bundle of fur.

My husband gave me one of those looks. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It is absolutely discreet. Thank goodness."

I did not want to have to explain what a sex toy was or why I, of all people — her mother, would have one.

So chalk a huge mark in Eden Fantasys column for discretion.

Know that their orders are very discreet as well. The package arrive a week before Christmas and the generic packaging and company name on the box (which was different than Eden Fantasys) aroused no suspicion whatsoever.

One of the other things I like about this company is the motto on their Web site "Rediscover Sex."

Fun sex isn't something that has to be left to young people exploring their wild oats. It can also be something that old married couples do, too.

I mean we have little gadgets for most other activities in our daily lives: iPods, cell phones, navigators, etc. Why not reward yourself and/or your partner (and that's the nice thing about these kind of toys — they are fun with or without someone to play with) with a gadget for the bedroom?

Even if you decide to never use it, it will always make a great conversation piece — but I do recommend not keeping it under your bed.

So if you or "a friend" are in the market for any type of accoutrement d'sex, click over to Eden Fantasys. They have everything you could image ever needing or wanting and a bunch of stuff that still has me scratching my head, saying " 'the hell?"

Bring on the anxiety

I wrote this for my Haute Mamas blog on GJSentinel.com:

New Year's resolution/goal/thing I want to accomplish

Richie has made some really good and attainable resolutions for the new year.

Lynn, on the other hand, is forgoing resolutions and instead is setting smart and health goals.

I not sure what the difference is between a resolution and a goal, but we learned last year that Lynn can not only set lofty goals, but she can achieve them (every time I drive over the Monument, I'm impressed with Lynn's Rimrock Run finish).

When Lynn first started talking about her goal to finish the almost-marathon over the Colorado National Monument, I was a bit jealous.

Not because I, too, wanted to train for the run, but because I wanted to have something lofty for which to strive and train.

Maybe for MY 50th birthday, I'll take on the Rimrock Run.

But for my 40th birthday which still is more than a year away still, I have set a personal goal that I may or may not share on this blog. Time will tell.

But I do have a goal and/or resolution that is very important for this year and it gives me an anxiety attack just thinking about it.

To keep reading, click here.

Chevy and GM owners BEWARE!

Saturday morning we decided we needed to get out of town for a spur-of-the-moment trip.

We loaded up our Chevy Trailblazer, strapped in the DVD player (upon which my mother and daughter watched — and sang along to — Mama Mia!) and set the navigator to Aspen then back to Glenwood Springs for the night.

Aspen was fun but snowy.

After lunch we made our way back to Glenwood Springs to soak away our stresses.

Sunday morning as Bill and I went to get breakfast we overheard a family discuss that their car had been broken into even though no windows were broken and there was no other signed of forced entry.

We quietly decided amongst ourselves that they had left their doors unlocked.

That was until Bill went to get our car and found our DVD player and navigator missing with no signs of a forced entry.

It turns out that 16 Chevy and GM cars parked in hotel parking lots in downtown Glenwood Springs had been broken into.

Our car and the windows were covered in road grim and mag chloride. We could have easily seen signs of someone using a jimmy to open our car doors.

There were no usual marks on the outside of our car. And it was the same for at least 16 other Chevy or GM owners.

After making a report with the police and watching the detective take a fingerprint from the outside of our car, we learned that the thief or thieves probably had a pass key that allowed them entry into our cars.

They didn't take everything from inside like a tweaker would — my cheap sunglasses, our CDs, the iPod adapter, etc. were all left behind. Instead they just took the electronics that are worth something and easy to sell.

It definitely put a damper on our trip, but it could have been worse. They could've broken a window which would have made a long, cold trip home. They could've gotten more stuff. They could've stolen the entire car.

So while I'd still like to kick whomever it was in the ding dong (and maybe the face), it's just a bummer instead of a disaster.

Anatomy of a New Year's Eve

Here's to hoping the rest of the year is as fun as it was on New Year's Eve.



Yes, at our house it starts with a bunch of meat — locally grown meat! Mmmm, meat.