Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
You are Napoleon Dyanamite and a buttload of gangs are trying to recruit you.
Take this quiz!
For all you MSN search people who got here by searching "How to induce vomiting" or "Self induced vomiting" or "Dog swallowed socks/chicken bone" - Just shove your index finger down your throat and wiggle it around. If that doesn't do the trick, read on, dear bulimic friends.....
I loved my Grandpa Lars.
Monday night I came home to a message from Maya's Elementary School principal (Mrs. Hoban who is incredible and wonderful and non-principal-ish). It stated that she would like me to call her at my earliest convenience regarding something that happened to Maya at school that day. She made sure to add that Maya was safe and was not in trouble.
I went to a high school named Beaverhead County High School.
Recreational Equipment, Inc. (REI)
After working in the call center at REI for EVER, it seemed, I finally got an oppurtunity to get a chance at a Headquarters job.
So when I started with the Legal Department I was officially full-time. Which also meant I qualified for the awesome benefit's package. Medical, dental, acupuncture, massage, etc, etc, etc. They even had someone from Human Resources sit down with me one-on-one for an hour to explain the benefit package!
This morning I woke up sleeping with my head where my feet should be. I had my pillows and everything down there.
Maya's report card comment section:
Due to our normal blogger being abnormally busy and smack dab in the middle of the busiest two weeks of the year at her work, we will be posting an entry from Maya today.
I have decided to begin a reverse chronicle-ization of my life through my jobs. Kind of like a resume in story form. I have no idea how deep I will get into this, but I have some good stories about my jobs.
Thanks to Janie I now know that I have had a number two! (as far as Miriam Webster's dictionary definitions are concerned)
I have been telling my lost wallet story to everyone.
I was a major idiot two weeks ago and merrily drove out of the Kmart parking lot with my wallet atop the Minty Squirrel. It had over $100 cash, my driver's license, my employee discount card (very, very important) and numerous other things inside (the wallet, not the Squirrel).
I had a few people tell me that I should call the police department to check if anyone turned it in. I didn't.
I think I didn't because:
(a) I didn't believe it would be turned in.
(b) If it was turned in it probably would be missing the important stuff (read here: cash).
(c) I secretly believed that I did not deserve it back since I was such an idiot and put it on my car roof anyway.
(d) All of the above (the right answer!)
I answered the phone at work this morning with my usual, "This is Shari," and silently freaked out when I heard, "This is Sgt. Eberly from the Puyallup Police Department, I am looking for a Shari **(spelling last name)***."
Okay, along with my intolerance of "the tone" I also have a residual fear of authority that is part of the luggage I still carry from my youth.
I was sure I was in huge trouble. Huge. (Even though I haven't done anything illegal in years.)
Au contraire!(I have no idea how to spell "The French Words" sorry) The fantastic Sgt. Eberly found my wallet. WITH the money AND driver's license AND employee discount card and all of the other things still intact.
Authority is still scary, but Sgt. Eberly is totally my hero!
I had a fight with my Mom last night.
Every year I take time from work on the girls' birthdays. They play hooky from school and we tear up the town. It is literally a desperate attempt to fit a huge amount of crazy-type fun into one day.
Maya chose "Odyssey 1" as her first destination. It is an indoor play park (tubes, unsanitary ball pits, video games, laser tag....) The girls did not even hit the video games or laser tag. The spent THREE HOURS playing in the tube part of the park. THREE HOURS. The deal has always been that I am just along for the ride and it is the birthday girls day, plain and simple. They are obviously testing me.
This is what happened to Sophie the minute she got in the car.
We obviously needed nourishment, so Maya opted for the ever-nutritional ice cream lunch.
Then we saw a pretty tree and stopped the car to take a picture.
I hate them. And their ice cream induced hyperactivity.
Me on the swings. Do you know how hard it is to take pictures from a swing? Notice the interesting perspective including me, Maya, the storm clouds and the Minty Squirrel. It says....something, I'm sure, about us.
Just so you know.
My fantastic sister, Shannon, is home from Antartica and graced us with her presence for a few days. The girls were happy, happy, happy! She is on her way to vacation in Costa Rica with her boyfriend (Although they have been together for some time, I have never met him. I am unconvinced that he is real. We shall see.)
And the second near tragedy of the weekend involved the guinea pigs. Sunny Cisco was the one that was used in the Science Fair project. Frere Jacque (Sophie's guinea pig) somehow broke his top teeth off at the gumline. They were hanging by a thread of gum too big for me to pull the rest of the way out so his teeth were flipped out from between his lips and resting on the outside of his upper lip. They were all bloody and horrible looking and Maya almost hyperventilated.
We were able to take them to the vet who pulled the teeth, cut their toenails (Sunny was along for moral support), and told us that they were "very fat guinea pigs". Frere should be fine. We are babying him terribly and feeding him strawberries and broccolli. (No oranges so the acid won't sting his gums. That would be torture.)
Maya and I had a fight on Sunday about her birthday and her expectations. I have done many things for her. This year has us in a great spot. I can pay bills and provide without panic. But her expectations of me tend to compare me with her father. She doesn't know that he pays $300 in rent and pays no bills because he is lucky enough to have just moved in with his well-to-do buddy of his. I pay three times that for rent, all the bills and also the incidentals that come along with having kids in the house.
He comes on the weekends and takes them to movies and buys them DVD's and CD's and clothes. Basically, all the things that are just not in my budget. He puts on the hero cape and Maya has been buying it hook, line and sinker. I think she understands a bit better now though. The fight involved her in her room crying and me in my room crying. Then, apologies, cuddling and making construction paper flowers.
If in doubt, ALWAYS make construction paper flowers.
We decided that we always did fine when we had NO money at birthday time before. We made do with what we had and it was always fantastic. So, we discussed what we could do like that this year, and came up with decorating the house with spring flowers and "snow" since her birthday is right on the edge of winter and spring. (the "snow" is cotton balls) There is nothing better than being in a house with homemade flowers and cotton balls hanging from the ceiling. If you don't believe me, you should just try it.
And Maya also hates cake. Which challenges the birthday imagination. Last year I made a tiered "cake of chocolate chip cookies and whipped cream frosting. Huge hit. This year I crafted a lemon meringue pie. Totally from scratch. From lemons and eggs and stuff.
I so rock.
I love Tom Robbins.
Dreams I have had lately....
What do you think?
I went to a Zydeco concert last night with my friend Jeannie.
Let's just talk about his smile.
His smile is angel/devil split about 60/40. (Click here and enlarge the picture of him with Angelica Houston. You will see what I mean.)
His smile is able to change from happy, delirious, mocking and flirtatious - BUT the dimensions of his smile are always the same. Maybe it is body language. Or his eyes. Whatever it is I found myself either smiling at his joy or laughing at the secret that his grin conveyed.
I felt like his smile was letting me in on a private joke.
Man, he was great.
I know it must have been horrible to spend his Fat Tuesday with an unresponsive and conservative crowd of old people, but his smile never once faded.
It may have secretly mocked, but it never faded.
And his feet. I have to tell you about his feet.
I have already mentioned that he is onstage barefoot. Ripped jeans, a smile like a Cheshire cat, and bare feet.
I have a thing about men and bare feet. I don't think it is necessarily a foot fetish. It has to be the right type of guy, with the right type of pants (no shorts, no slacks. Jeans - preferably frayed a bit around the bottom hem) and the right kind of feet.
And there it was. The right kind of guy, pants and feet! On stage!
I think it must be a subconscious symbol of vunerability. Or comfort. Or a "I'm not going anywhere for awhile 'cause I have my shoes off" thing.
I couldn't sleep when I got home.
I don't know about those old people, but I had a great night.
This is my rant post for the day. We will be directly moving on from this post and posting again.