Signs of the Post-Holiday Bliss

1. Socks with no holes! Pants that actually reach the ankles! Thank you Santa!

2. Adorable ornaments still making me smile.

3. One warm young man, all wrapped up in seven years' worth of soccer and football jerseys.

4. A second warm young man, all wrapped up in Dad's old BDU's.

5. A very happy mom, sporting the new Canon 85mm f 1.8 portrait lens. For further evidence of its amazing capabilities, join me in my Focker circle of trust for a peek here.

and PS... yes I DID make those blankets myself. And yes I DID hoard soccer and football jerseys for seven years with this very purpose in mind. And yes I DID break at least five machine needles trying to sew through army uniforms. And yes, it was all completely worth it because Mika and Jordan LOVE them.

*and yes, I DID swear more than once in the process of trying to sew.

Do You Know What Today Is? It's Our Anniversary.

Guess what? We have been married for THREE WHOLE YEARS now. In some ways, it feels like I've already spent my life with this man.


We have had a super year. It has not been without its trials, but I am continually amazed at how much we continue to learn how to work together to overcome them. A friend once told me that her turning point through marital discord was when her husband told her, "We are on the same team here." So often, it's easy to play on your own team... setting out for the highest score, the fastest time, the best record. And while you think you're doing it for the right reasons, if in the end you have no teammate... what have you won?


This guy is so hot! I love him.

In honor of our three years together, I have picked the three things I love most about my marriage.
1. We talk. All the time. Companionship is very comforting, particularly in the form of someone you enjoy so much.
2. We have learned how to fight. Both of us are very stubborn, very determined, and very impatient. This could be a trainwreck. We've figured out what works for us, and we try really hard to apply it.
3. We are still ridiculously in love. We are affectionate and passionate and happy. The highest compliment I've ever received was when Mika told us, "When I get married, I want my relationship to be just like you guys'."



The first three years of eternity. Time well spent, I'd say.

I love you, baby. Happy Anniversary.

Things For Which I Feel Only Semi-Grateful

1. My daughter's "HELP" in cleaning her room, and her new vacuity of toys.
I have been under the impression that my daughter's room was clean.

MY BAD.

Her idea of clean, albeit resourceful, is a bit lacking in actual cleanliness. She has been taking all her stuff, putting it into bags, and hiding the bags around her room. Here are a few I found today. They were literally packed with toys, papers, and laundry.


I figured since Christmas is on Friday, an "out with the old, in with the new" approach would be appropriate. So we sorted through her clever bags of stuff, and made two piles: Good Will, and Trash. I allowed her to choose which items went into each pile. Do you know what she did?




She got rid of almost every single one of her toys. Barbie walkie-talkies? Gone. Baby doll stroller? Gone. All Polly Pockets? G-O-N-E. She still has all her board games and her Play-Doh. A small box of stuffed animals made the cut. Other than that, she got rid of it all. I am grateful she "tries" to clean her room, not grateful for the actual result. I am grateful she got rid of all that junk, not grateful for the fact that she has nothing to play with for the next five days of winter break.

2. Fed-Ex
I am grateful for Fed-Ex because I didn't have to go to the post office today to mail my BFF Lisa's present. I am not grateful that I had to pay Express Shipping due to my procrastination. I am grateful that Fed-Ex is thorough and secure. I am not grateful I had to contemplate the question "Are there any interred human remains in your package?" Also, kinda bugged that he used the word "interred", which in my opinion would not apply to this situation. Am I wrong in thinking that should be used in reference to something buried in the ground? Not neatly packaged in a festive holiday box?

I guess my list only has two items on it. There are a lot of other things for which I am indeed grateful. My house is decorated, my cookies are baked, my presents are bought and delivered. I have 2 weeks off from work to spend with my kids. Now if those darn stamps would just get here...

*ALSO: Noe got her hair cut. It's adorable. If you are in my inner circle of trust, head on over to IYGAMAM to see just how cute it is.

Postal Pressures; Internet Ingenuity

My Christmas letter is written. No DVD this year. Last year's was so long, you are probably still watching it. The family picture is printed and tucked along with said letter into an envelope. Your name may even be on one of my envelopes! (I know, I know. Contain yourselves...) I have used my adorable and free St. Jude's Hospital return address labels to identify the red envelops as being from me.

And now what? They sit on my nightstand, holiday cheer not spread too far. What key component am I missing here? The stamps. Yes, the stamps. Call me a Scrooge if you will, but I refuse to go to the post office. Have you seen the lines there? I get out of work around 4:00 every day. We usually have about an hour's worth of errands to run... with three kids in tow. Three kids who have been working hard at school all day and need to go outside and play for a bit. Not three kids who need to behave in line for 40 minutes so I can get my stamps. And for some ungodly reason, the post office removed their stamp vending machine. So there's not getting around it.

Last night, however, the stroke of genius hit me. I ORDERED STAMPS ONLINE!! I know, I know, from what font does she draw her brilliance? Hard to say, really. All I know is that while my husband was confused over my spending money to have stamps mailed to me, I knew that there was no price too high for such a luxury.
So in 3-5 business days, I will have stamps. And you will have your Christmas card. And I will have my nightstand back. Can we see how this is win-win all around? Happy Holidays.

Tunesday: CHRISTMAS!!

My husband has some Grinchy tendencies. While I would begin the Christmas playlist on the day after Thanksgiving, along with decorating the house, he gets a little uptight if I start that early. So we compromised, and started everything this past weekend. Don't you LOVE playing your Christmas music? Everyone has their favorites. I have a lot, but I chose 2 for this post.

What would Christmas be without a little soul infused into it? The Little Drummer Boy and Do You Hear What I Hear are my favorite songs. This version of DYHWIH by Destiny's Child tops the list for me. Sorry the video is non-existent. But listen to the song. Then download it. MP3panda.com gives you downloads for five cents. Can't beat that.


My mom is from the West Indies. She grew up on the tiny island of St. Lucia. Growing up, she had this song... I think on reel-to-reel, and she LOVED it. She would listen to it and do her cute little rhythm of the islands dance. She searched and searched for the ALBUM, and then after a few years, the CD, and finally, when the almighty internet came along, we found it in digital format. Now, it's on YouTube, for crying out loud. It's called "Mary's Boy Child" by a growp known as Boney M. These guys are Jamaican, but came out of Germany. This song topped the holiday charts in 1978. Every time I hear it, I feel happy. It has great memories tied to it, and now my kids know it as well. The video is hilarious. Pay special attention to the lone male's dance moves. Wow. It's a good thing brotha can sing, because he ain't makin money off his groove.

Look What We Found...

My super sleuth husband found this clip. It goes with the post below. Hate it with me, if you will.

In My Free Time...

We had some free time this weekend, and we watched some TV. Specifically, Kung Fu Hustle. It was on television. We LOVE this movie... it's one of the funniest I have ever seen. Skip and I were rolling on the couch while watching it. But that's another story, not fit for the blog...
Anyway. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's got Chinese Jazz Hands, Paige. (And Tiff... I still have vivid memories of you and Jenny doing your own Kung Fu Hustle... ah. good times.)



Anyway. There were several commercials that caught my attention during the movie. The first was this. I loathe and despise it. It doesn't even make sense to me. I could see if it was for breath mints or something, but a cough drop? Who gets turned on by cough drop breath?? Even if it IS fruity? Isn't there an underlying dose of Mentholatum? Not sexy, even for a desperate cougar mom and a nerdy roomate.



But the network redeemed itself by playing this bad boy. I almost jumped up out my seat and started dancing on the coffee table. I mean, HELLOOOO... IT'S BIZ!!! OH, SNAP! If you don't hear this song and have an instant happy memory, then there is something wrong with you. I still know every single word to this song. And I can still do just as crappy a job as Biz in singing it. Speech impediment and all.


There was one other commercial for an obscure cell phone company that showed a claymation Mrs. Claus in bed with Frosty, defending her actions by saying "WHAT? Santa's gone. I have NEEDS, you know." It was confusing and tacky, and I couldn't even find a YouTube clip of it. All I know is that the clear implication of Frosty melting by the fireplace, leaving nothing but his carrot nose, was totally offensive. Thank goodness I still had Biz and The Kung Fu Hustle to redeem the evening.

The Husband's Rebuttal

Otherwise Titled,

Excuse me Mrs. Lincoln, But I am Afraid That I Will Have to Ask You to Remain Seated Until the End of the Play.

Got this email from my husband today, with the subsequent blog post:
Babe! You’re killing me! I must be taking a crazy pill because I don’t remember the dinner going down that way. I mean, sure you described the menu well but I think your memory is a bit fuzzy on how it all came about.

Paige, you are absolutely right. Thanksgiving is all about tradition and I am a stickler for tradition. I think that we as Americans have forgotten what Thanksgiving is all about and that’s FOOTBALL. Now it’s true, my lovely wife did mention to me that since we were not having anyone over for the holiday, she did not feel like making an elaborate dinner; plus the fact that she would be on her feet for over 20 hours preparing dinner did not compute when it would just be me, her, and the kids. So I, being the gracious and loving husband that I am, said “Then don’t cook”. Now this phrase might appear to the non-military mind to be a simple, non-salient phrase. But to the more keen intellect, it was the start of a major coup that would further strengthen my legitimacy as the favorite parent. But before I could start engraving the plaque that was to go over my throne, I had to choose my next words carefully. My entire Kingness hinged on the next words out of my mouth. The words came to me as if Al Bundy himself was sitting next to me on my couch. “Let’s just have Man Food” Three little sets of ears perked up. Man Food?!? Did he say Man Food? And from there, the rest was easy. We woke in the morning and lounged around the house in our pajamas. We sat on our couch with one hand in the waistband of our pants and watched football (even Noe), knowing that there were not going to be any timers going off or pots needing cleaning, only to be dirtied again. We pondered the age old questions of "What exactly are Buffalo wings?" and "Why are they called pizza rolls if they have corners?" Anyway, Andrea can keep the points because I’m much bigger than that (note in her post how she had to keep playing until she scored higher than me) as long as you know that I was the puppet master behind the scene.

I know, ladies. I'm a very lucky woman.

Mom: Ten. Kids: ????

Our desktop got a virus and is in the shop, and I can't load pictures onto the laptop. So you'll pardon the lack of visual documentation.
We had a unique Thanksgiving this year. The whole weekend, overall, was very nice. At least, I thought it was. I gave it a TEN. If you were my kid, what kind of score would you give it?

1. I didn't cook for Thanksgiving dinner. We have been very busy this year. I decided I didn't feel like having people over, nor did I feel like spending the day in the kitchen. So we had "MAN FOOD." Please, peruse our menu of previously frozen foods:
-Totinos Pizza Rolls
-Mozzarella Sticks
-Buffalo Wings
-Hickory Farms Summer Sausage
-Cheese and Crackers
-Fresh Veggies and Dip
-Teriyaki Beef Skewers
-Soda
*Big points for Mom.

2. We went to some friends' house for dessert. Their kids have Nintendo DS, with a game called Brain Age. You go through a series of games that tests your intellectual ability. Skip and I commandeered the games from the kids and played the ENTIRE NIGHT. Not even lying. *Mom loses big points with kids. Also with husband, as I insist on playing until I come away with the higher score.

3. Took the kids to see the Broadway production of The Lion King. While I found the 2 hour and 45 minute production to be a bit long *Minus points for kids with short attention spans, the costumes and set were breathtaking. I enjoyed most of the music. Our adult Simba did not impress with his vocals, but our Young Nala was adorable. And did I mention the costumes and set? Amazing.

4. Attended the University of Idaho/Utah State football game. Being a USU alum, I still enjoy cheering them on. Plus, they won. *Huge points from football-crazed son. Minus points for other two kids who could care less about football and had to sit for three hours. Minus more points for not sitting in proximity to the cheerleaders, thus disappointing both daughter AND Cassinova son.

So there you have it. That was our Thanksgiving weekend. I, myself, had a delightfully relaxing and entertaining time. I also finished the bulk of my Christmas shopping online. My kids don't know that, but *it should earn me a few more bonus points, don't you think??

And In Other Strange and Unusual News...

My husband recently made a trip to Salt Lake City. I've mentioned before how things seem to happen to him that otherwise bypass the ordinary man or woman. (Remember how he got hit on during one of our dates... by another man?)
Anyway.
While he was waiting to catch his connecting flight into SLC, in true Utah style he counted no less than TWELVE babies preparing to ride on his flight. Twelve. Complete with strollers and carseats. And as luck would have it, he would also be travelling with a wheelchair basketball team.

Pre-boarding, anyone?

Sitting in the waiting area, they receive an announcement that there is a problem with the plane. An hour and a half later, they are finally loaded onto a different aircraft. What would someone do for an hour and a half, you might ask? How about watch the drunk lady pass out money to all the children! "Drunk lady?" you ask. "How Drunk Was She?!" Drunk enough to start trying to recruit male passengers to her mile high club! How's that for a punchline.
What? You're not joking?
What? She's sitting on people's laps? She's actually making out with one of them? They went WHERE? INTO THE FAMILY BATHROOM TOGETHER? Now none of the twelve moms of screaming babies who are out of Cheerios have a place to change their stinky diapers? Wow. Someone should do something about that.

Enter the flight crew. Diverted from what was supposed to be their last stop to now accompany my husband, 12 babies, the wheelchair basketball team AND the drunk lady on their new plane to SLC, this crew is not happy. Out of the bathroom saunters Ms. Miller Light. The flight crew gives her a once over, gets a briefing from my husband on her antics, and quickly decides she will not be riding with them.

In the end, he made it to his destination. Sometimes I'm jealous that I never have these kinds of entertaining experiences. But then I think about it, and I'm happy to live vicariously through him.

You are now free to fly about the country.

Idiot Test

I manage some rental properties for a friend of mine. I select who rents from her, collect their monthly payments, and generally ensure the well-being of her properties. It works out nicely.

At the moment, I am looking for an additional female renter. So I advertise in some local publications, hoping to catch the eye of an acceptable college student.

I got an email today from a very promising candidate. She is almost too good to be true! Please see her email below (and my commentaries in red):

On Thu, Nov 19, 2009 at 1:16 AM, susanna pattersons wrote:

How are you doing today? Well, I'm just fine, thank you for asking, susanna pattersons!
I'll like to take the place you have for rent . Well to tell you a little about myself, i'll be coming from the U.K.(formally based in California Fountan valley } So are you from the UK or are you from California? Because both those places speak English pretty well, which you do not. I don't think i'll be able to meet you or see the place but if you could send me pics it would be very helpful , What a bummer! I really would've liked to have done lunch before you moved in. i'll like to sort out the payment before coming, don't worry if you say the place is okay i'll trust you. With all the dishonesty and cynicism in the world today, I find this refreshing. I'm a missionary student. I love basketball, I love cooking and reading also. I'm coming for a 10 month missionary assignment. So is she coming to convert Shaquille O'Neal? Rachel Ray? Maya Angelou? I have a Sponsor here who is willing to make a 2 months advance payment via in order to secure the place. HEY! I have a brilliant idea! Why don't I send her my bank account info so she can pass it along to her Sponsor, and he can direct deposit it!!
Pls if this is okay with you pls get back to me as soon as possible. Pls.
To tell you a little about myself, Because I care. I'm 25years old, I am a graduate of Oxford University. Oxford University. Which has clearly lowered its academic standards since I last checked. Grammar? HA! Not for us Oxford Grads! I am also a member of the UNICEF org. , I trick-or-treated for them when I was seven. mostly tour round African and European countries.Please I'm sorry, I don't have any reference there, mostly because I'm lying and I never did that but my Sponsor is a Rev. in the U.K. The Church address he is working is The Methodist Church Home Mission Division, 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, London SW1 H 9NH. Why does SW1HNH kinda look like a flu diagnosis to me???
He is more like a parent to me. He has been taking care of me since I lost my dad, that is, since when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I can't remember the dear Sponsor-Rev.-Who-Is-Like-A- Parent-To-Me's name. But don't let that stop you from giving him your money. After all, I lost my dad, that is, since when I was a kid.
Pls get back to me ASAP. You betcha, Sooze. ASAP.
Thank you. Susan...................


The only way this lady could be any better is if she had discount handbags which quality are good. Right Jessica?

Tunesday: Reflections on Piano Lessons

Did you take piano lessons? I did. Oh yes, I did. For something like 11 years. I mostly hated it because it TOTALLY interrupted my social life between the years of 1980-1991. During those 11 years, I would also have to add that piano lessons were the main cause of fighting between me and my mother. She had this ridiculous notion that if she was shelling out all this money for my lessons, I should be practicing in my spare time. Puh-LEEZE.

But looking back, I will admit that I often found myself impressing friends at parties with my amazing repertoire. If you took piano lessons during my decade, you were probably impressing your friends as well with tunes such as...









And of coure, lest I be deemed uncultured, here was the piece I saved for times I wanted to appear smart, cultured and rich:



I have recently been debating starting my kids on piano lessons. I look back at classics such as these and realize I would be robbing them of precious life experiences by keeping them from the ivories. I also realize the amount of whining, nagging and crying that I would avoid if we didn't sign up.
What a quandary.

May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

Yesterday, Walmart unveiled its anti-death plan for this year's holiday shopping. Have you seen it? In their efforts to prevent customer homicide, there are some new rules and policies in place this year. Now if THAT doesn't say "Happy Holidays" then I don't quite know what does.

I've met a few people, Rachel, who enjoy Black Friday. They make a big production out of joining with friends and shopping together. I would personally prefer to claw my eyeballs out than shop on Black Friday. Once, thirteen years ago, I went to a fabric store because I was making a quilt for a Christmas gift, and the fabric was pennies on the yard. After those 13 years had passed, I had forgotten the intensity of the torture. Much like childbirth, where you tend to forget really how much it hurt. Which is why we have more than one child. Which is also why I tried to participate in Black Friday again last year. While I did go on to have three children, I feel confident in saying I will only have endured 2 Day-After-Thanksgiving sales in my lifetime.

So. In the upcoming spirit of goodwill towards men, I would like to offer my top ten tips on an affordable Christmas with ABSOLUTELY NO shopping on Black Friday.

1. Shop early. By "early", I mean "all year long."

2. Buy books. If you have school children in your home, you have access to the Scholastic Book Orders. They are cheap, and you will have smarter kids if they read more.

3. Overstock.com. My 6 year old daughter is into Fancy Nancy right now. I found the books at Borders for $16.00 a pop. I found them on Amazon.com for $6.99 each. Overstock.com? TWO BUCKS A BOOK. She's getting the entire collection.

4. Clearance. Pick a few of your favorite stores. Mine are Old Navy and Kohls. Sign up for their email ads. When their clearance sales start, buy stuff. End of season clearance clothing can be bought one size larger for next year's wardrobe.

5. Google promo codes. I just went to Kohl's clearance sale online, and ordered 6 outfits for the kids for about $50. Then I googled "Kohl's Promo Code" and up popped some websites offering that top secret info. I got a code for 20% off my total purchase, and another one for free shipping. So I paid thirty five bucks for well over $200 worth of merchandise.

6. Downsize. Your kids probably don't need as much stuff as you feel obligated to buy them.

7. Reward points. Our debit card offers reward points. We make all our purchases with it. In return, they have given us a HUGE mall to shop from. Every major retailer you can imagine is on it. That is how my children will get a Wii.

8. Donate to a charity. This year, our extended family is pooling the money we would've spent on neckties and WWII novels, and donating it to the Wounded Warrior foundation.

9. Draw names. If you have a sizable extended family, gift giving can be ridiculous. Draw names to prevent burdening each other.

10. Convert to Jehovah's Witness.

There you have it. What are your tips for frugal festivities?

Safety First, Safety Always (or how to tell who's on your blog)

If you have read my blog for any amount of time, you will know that it would be fairly difficult to know where I live, or what my family's last name is. I keep that all very ambiguous for the safety of my family. I think it is wise not to use your last name anywhere on your blog, including your URL address. I also believe you don't need to list your location, because really, whose business is it where you live? If someone knows you, they know where you live. If they don't know you, they don't need to know.

Another safety feature I know and love is called Sitemeter. Most people use it under the veil of security, but in reality, it's a hell of an ego boost. You get to see exactly how many people read your blog, even if they don't leave comments. But back to the safety aspect.
Sitemeter is amazing. It tells you where all your visitors are coming from. As in, it tells you which internet service they use. Sometimes, however, this information can be useless. See below.


The question marks with the "unknown" usually mean someone has accessed you through a Blackberry, or perhaps an ISP unfamiliar to Sitemeter. Darn! Can't tell who it was.
OH, SHAMWOW! There is a solution to every problem! Enter the genius website www.whatismyip.com
If you click on the unknown ISP in Sitemeter, it will provide you with the internet code (a set of digits used to identify ISP's around the world. Usually looks something like this: 982.456.22) If you enter those digits in the IP Lookup at this amazing website, it will not only tell you the company that owns this code, it will also tell you where this company is located. BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! It will actually provide you with a handy dandy map right to the home of the person who was reading your blog. IS THAT COOL OR WHAT!? And if you look really hard, you can see through their living room window and find out if they watch TV in their underwear or not.
Mmm'kay... I made that last part up.


I have always been an advocate of Safe Blogging. That's why I am so enraptured with the new whatismyip.com site. Try it! You'll Like It!

Welcome To My Blog!

tidying up. house cleaning. spring cleaning. taking out the trash. however you want to view it. it was time for some change. so change there was.
while some people may find it flattering to have your blog stalked for an hour and a half by an unfamiliar ISP address, others might find it a bit awkward. creepy, even.

thus, we are beginning again. i like to consider it a catharsis of sorts. atually, as we speak, i'm doing various types of deep breathing and meditation as i bask in the cleansing nature of it all. think of it as blog pilates.

so i decided to keep my public blog. if you have me linked elsewhere, please change the name accordingly. (no more "If You Give A Mom A Moment. We went with the snappier, "Other Than That, Mrs. Lincoln, How Was The Show?") hopefully you'll stick with me on my new adventures!

love and smoochies to all who read,
andrea


ps did a little baby shoot last week, and got this picture which i love beyond words.

Tunesday: Sampling vs. Remaking; PLUS: A GIVEAWAY!

There's a difference between an artist remaking a song (think Tribute Albums) and an artist sampling a song. For me, a remake is really great if it's as good as the original. (Mary J. Blige's remake of Chaka Khan's Sweet Thing is an example.) Sometimes, a remake can actually exceed the original in listening pleasure. (Beyonce and Luther remade The Closer I Get To You, which for me completely tops Roberta Flack's version). Are you catching on? Sampling, however, is different from remaking a song.

One of my favorite things to do is find a sample from an old song in the background of a newer song. I'm talking a little LESS obvious than Vanilla Ice's infamous "Under Pressure, Pressure, Baby". There is so much music out there that has snippets of classic old tunes. It's a never-ending adventure.

Anyway. I love me some LL. I saw him once in concert, and while he doesn't hold a candle to the phenomenally sexy man I'm married to, he is still a piece of art. One of my favorite songs by him is "Hey Lover." This song is classic; it's only made better by the fact that Boys II Men throw their smooth harmony all over the place. Love them too. I wanted to post the video, but in true LL style, it's... shall we say... a bit racy? Yes. We shall say that. So below you will find only the audio clip.

CHALLENGE: If you can tell me the name of the song he sampled here, to include the artist, I will burn you a cd with all of the Tunesday hits up to this point. As you know, I use comment moderation. So I will simply store all the comments this week instead of publishing them, so no one can see anyone else's replies. Comments will be posted when the winner is announced at the end of the week. AND NO CHEATING. You can't google the answer. Where's the fun in that??

Tunesday: Wish You Were Here

I don't care who you are, what you listen to... you HAVE to like Pink Floyd. You just have to. It's in my rules.

Really though. When I think of "classic;" of groups that have been around since before I was, and whose music will be around even after I'm gone... it's not the Black Eyed Peas or Miley Cyrus or Rascal Flatts. They have their time, but their time is limited. Pink Floyd, up there with the likes of Led Zeppelin and The Eagles, just made music that made people feel stuff. And given that the feeling came for most through a ridiculously thick haze of drug-induced numbness, that's pretty impressive.

This is my all-time favorite Floyd tune. I love it. It's haunting yet it makes such a statement. It screamed against politics and war with such a quiet fortitude, that people listened. It has an almost confusing symbolism, but I am convinced you can read it without chemical assistance. You just want to lay in a hammock and soak it in.

One of the biggest disappointments of my life was being a week early in Berlin. You may or may not recall that Roger Waters did a benefit concert in 1989 titled... what else... "The Wall." The Berlin wall had just come down and it was crazy. We were in Europe on vacation for the summer, only we hit Berlin one week before the concert. I couldn't quite convince my dad to reschedule the entire trip so I could catch the show. If you have some time, check out that album. It's fun. I had the cassettes from it but my brother stole them from me while I was on my mission. Jerk. But I forgive. Anyway, Sinead O'Connor's rendition of "Mother" is absolutely unique.

Tunesday: You and Me

When I fell in love with my husband, this song was huge. He was in Iraq. I was extra emotional and sensitive for about a million reasons. This song, even though it was ridiculously overplayed and a tad bit bubblegummy, sort of snatched us both up in the whirlwind of newfound romance.

Sometimes on the blog, I write about what a super guy he is. I think he was starting to become concerned that people think he's just about perfect. I offered to write a post detailing his flaws and annoying habits, and list the things about him that really bug me. Instead, he sent me this email:

Can I have Tunesday tomorrow? If so the song is "You and Me" and here's my post:
This may come as a shock to some but I am not Mr. Perfect. As a matter of fact, I am far from it, but I am trying. I would love to say that I am trying because I will be a better person for it, but the truth of the matter is that my lovely wife deserves more. The closer I get to being perfect, the happier she is and that is all that matters. This is our unofficial song and I share it with all of you as a glimpse of what a blessing she is in my life and the love I have for her.

We're a normal couple. We enjoy each other. We do fun stuff. We talk. But we're not always the cheese and mush you see on the blog. We argue. Sometimes we even fight, and it ain't pretty. But in the end, it's me and him. We love each other, and we make it work. Thank goodness there are so many songs to help us express that. This one may not be a must-have for EVERYONE'S library, but it is in ours.

Nutritional Yeast or Steroid Burgers?

I recently "met" my first vegan. She seems extremely nice and I am learning things I didn't know. First of all, vegans aren't actually annoying. Although the cartoon above is kinda funny.

I didn't really know what the difference was between a vegan and a vegetarian, so I asked her.

She explained that vegans avoid anything that was derived from animals. Of course, that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to know more. Like the following:

1. Why is milk bad? Milk is natural. Is breastmilk off-limits for the vegan?

2. Why is honey bad? Jerry the Bee taught us a lot about what happens when bees and humans cease to codepend.

Those were the first questions I had for her. She answered them with what I assumed was behind the whole practice: prevention of cruelty to animals.

Of course, the website she sent me to was horrifying. But I couldn't imagine that all the meat and milk we consume comes from these terrible mass-marketing farms. So I asked another friend, who majored in Animal Agriculture, and who eats a lot of meat that she raises in the pasture near her house. I also zipped around online a bit, just to read up on it all.

What I learned was this: there are a lot of really strong opinions out there. I don't doubt that there are places that are filthy, disgusting and inhumane. And frankly, it's not impossible that I've unwittingly eaten meat from such a place at some point in my life. But I have to have faith in the federal government's ability to enforce guidelines and regulations, and ensure that most places are meeting a certain standard. The way I see it, everyone is entitled to their philosophies and opinions. If someone wants to live a vegan lifestyle, I think it would be an adventure at the very least. If someone wants to raise their own livestock to feed their family, again... one individual's adventure. Neither lifestyle works particularly well for me, so I have to have confidence that what I buy from my supermarket is brought to me via safe and ethical agriculture.

I am intrigued and fascinated to learn about vegan cooking. It is truly a skilled art. I am equally fascinated that I have a friend who knows how to slaughter, preserve and prepare an entire cow. I would fail miserably at either attempt. People are cool. I love diversity and really appreciate a variety of opinions. As long as no one's hating. Keep that in mind when you comment.

Tunesday: Ain't No Mountain High Enough

This is our family anthem. One night a few years ago we happened to be in Utah. Bountiful, specifically. Up on the east side in the mountain, driving around at sunset. This song came on our ipod, and we cranked it at full volume, rolled the windows down, and drove around with five kids and two adults singing at the top of their lungs. It is one of my absolute favorite memories.

I miss my stepkids this week. It's really hard to love someone very much, and have to be mostly removed from their lives. I know they feel the same way. We are always hopeful that time will improve the situation, and that as they get older, they will become more independent in their abilities to communicate with us. Until then, there's hope and faith in the ability to see over high mountains.

While the Cat is Away

For the past two years, my husband has had to go away the first weekend in October to do some military stuff with cadets from our side of the country. The first year (2007), I stayed very busy here at home. The second year (2008), I had the weekend from hell when I tried to join him on his adventures. So this year, I opted to stay very busy here at home once again. Here's how it's gone so far:

1. Spent a little time with my new BFF's, Kathy and Kate. Kathy, Kate and Khandrea. We're like three peas in a pod. We cut each other's hair with the weedwacker so we can all be twinners. Except there's three of us, not two. But tripleters doesn't have the same ring to it.

2. Since I don't choose sides in marital disputes, I also helped Jon barricade his front yard from the filming crew at TLC. Can you even believe the way they've exploited that poor man's children? I support his role as a caring, involved father. I too want to stop the trainwreck. Kumbayah, Jon.

3. Visited with Paris for a moment. Not sure which was worse... the disgusting, overindulgent latte or the weird, shimmery top. Paige... she stands as a voice of support in your anti-leggin debate.

4. Interviewed Whitney. She offered me some pot, but I told her I only buy from Bobby. I did download 8 tracks off her new album though. I recommend you do the same. She's gotta finance rehab somehow. Plus, if you don't, Cissy might come into your house and strong-arm you into doing it anyway.

5. Reminded Mariah that she will ALWAYS be a diva. Even though she "left it at home" for her critically acclaimed role in the new movie Push, she confessed to me that she was still demanding Evian on the set. I assured her the public would not love her any less for showing her hideously ugly natural face with us.

*I lied to her about that last part...

6. Kanye and I had a chat about manners. We also chatted about how much is too much when it comes to Tanqueray before the show. Held a brief therapy session in which he role-played apologizing to a Barbie doll. Then I finished shaving his head for him, since he missed a few spots the first time.

7. Lastly, declined an offer to come work for Dave. In the end, I decided it was just too creepy.

So there you have it. Tomorrow we'll be busy with football games, and then the man will be home again. Thank goodness, imagine if I got lonely enough to take Dave up on his offer???

A Follow-Up on Priorities

A parental mastermind or a twisted she-devil? You decide...

PLAN: Align my children's priorities with my own.

LEVEL OF SUCCESS: Fairly high thus far.

If you will recall, last week I was attempting to diminish the level of fighting going on between my children.

EXECUTION: One child had to find his own ride to scouts. He was uncomfortable making the call. Another child had no way to get himself to the store to purchase supplies for his school project. He wisely used the rest of the week to put forth a little effort at kindness, and caught a lift in Mom's Taxi the day before it was due. Sadly, he also had a poetry project due the same day, and two hours of football practice. It's so tough when things get done at the last minute.

GENERAL RESULTS: In a Pavlovian way, I have turned the word "PRIORITY" into a saliva-producing bell. Except instead of saliva, I get forced kindness. In all fairness, they are making more of an effort. It's a little funny to watch them try so hard, especially when they don't really mean it. My favorite is when I see them doing something "nice" for a sibling and they ask me, "MOM! Can this be a PRIORITY?"

I think this has been an effective experiment. I would like to see increased results, and will continue to implement the Priority Tactic. It is significantly harder for one out of three of my children. Two seem to catch the drift. One seems to catch the drift only when it is convenient for him. Which is inconvenient for me. Bummer.

Tunesday: Hey Mr. DJ

Zhane. Remember them? I wanted to name my first daughter Zhane. (Pronounced Jah-nay) Noe was probably a better choice. This song came out I think around 1993. Weekend nights, college parties, nothing but good times and great dancing.

I realized I've had very few female artists featured in my Tunesdays, so I tried to think of my favorites. These ladies haven't put out too much, but what they have is fantastic. Their upbeat stuff will make you feel like no one on earth can dance better than you, and their slow jams will make you cry. Plus, anyone who can rock the nearly-shaved head like they can is absolutely cool in my book.

If you listen to this song, you will want to let go of your stress and have yourself a little fun. Isn't that what music is all about anyway? Taking you somewhere you can't quite go on your own? Thank goodness for it.

A Shifting of Priorities

My Priorities At The Moment:

1. Have my children show kindness to one another, instead of being so stinking mean and rude to each other all the time.




My Children's Priorities At The Moment:

1. Arrive at football practice on time so as not to have to run additional, punitive laps.

2. Get to the store to purchase supplies for a school project.

3. Show up at Scouts on Thursday for a super fun biking activity.

4. Eat a snack after school.

5. Finish homework (oral reading to Mom) so they can go out for recess the next day.


My priority is simply not being met. In spite of numerous discussions, family lessons, polite requests, one or two lectures, and ample opportunity, it seems that MY priority is just not a priority for MY CHILDREN.


Therefore...
their priorities have dropped way down to the bottom of my priority list. For example:

Arriving at football on time isn't important to me right now. Bummer about the punitive laps. Purchasing supplies for the school project doesn't seem like a valuable way to spend my own money. I'm not biking on Thursday, why would it be important for me to load someone else's bike into my van and then use my precious time to drive to the activity? After school snacks cost money and require my effort to prepare. That has moved WAAAAY down on my list of important things to do. Listening to children read books out loud so I can sign off their homework assignments? Nah.

Here's to hoping there's a major shift in priorities in the immediate future, so everyone can live in peace and harmony.

Tunesday: Everything

The first time I heard of Michael Buble I was working in the back room stocking shelves at Bath and Body Works. There was this uber-Baptist chick who worked there, and while the rest of the crew was bringing in slammin hip hop and velvety RnB tracks to pass the time, she was constantly throwing on "inspriational" music. I thought she was a bit of a zealot, and she was totally obsessed with Michael Buble. So due to her need to save my soul, and the weirdness of the name "BOOBLAY", I have always avoided listening to him.
I have no idea how old or new this song is, but I recently heard it and fell in love with it. I didn't even know it was Michael BOOBLAY until I was already hooked. So he has now managed to sneak his way into my music library. Darn.
Anyway, do you ever sometimes listen to a love song from the perspective of a parent? I mean, it doesn't work for all of them, for example anything that makes reference to dimming the lights and lighting the candles wouldn't work. But this one, for the most part, makes a cool love song for your kids. We've been listening to it every morning getting ready for school, and I always make a silly point to dedicate it to my kids, and tell them that they are my everything. It's fun. Try it at your house.
PS Good luck getting past his cheezy variety-show mannerisms. You may want to leave the video playing and navigate away to a new tab, so you only listen to him. He is so Osmondesque, it's creepy.

Something That Worked For Me

I'm not a fan of discussing my issues with the world. Particularly marital issues. But I have also come to the realization that we learn things from each other when we discuss with discretion. So here is something I learned today.

I went to church this morning beyond angry with my husband. And he was none too thrilled with me. I sat as far away from him on the bench as I could without being overly noticeable to the general congregation.
I am a crier. I cry easily and often. It's so annoying. So when I'm mad, I cry. In an effort not to repeat the mistakes of my first marriage, I try very hard to be cognizant of the things I need to improve about myself. I was feeling very slighted in my efforts, and found it difficult not to cry during the services. The only thing worse than crying is crying publicly. I was getting angrier by the minute due to the argument we'd had, as well as the humiliation of crying in front of people.
Then I felt a prompting to hold my husband's hand.

HA. Seriously? I immediately ran through the list of reasons he did not deserve even the slightest nod of kindness from me. I felt very justified in scooting another inch away from him. Then I remembered something I read recently, which suggested that if we always act on our first inclinations of kindness, it will make a huge difference in our ability to soften our feelings. But seriously. If I held his hand, it would be like saying, "You win, and I am saying sorry, and I am not HALF as sorry as YOU had BETTER BE." I argued with myself for about five minutes, knowing what was right but wanting not to have to make the first move.

In the end, I held his hand. And after about forty seconds, I realized I was glad I did it. And after about 45 seconds, I realized he was glad too. And just like that, an entire day's worth of anger and frustration was over. The moral of the story is this: try to listen to the inner voice. Then be willing to set your pride aside and do what it says. It will probably work. Plus, it will save you a lot of money on make-up presents.

Tunesday: Lemonade

I can't remember exactly when this song found its way into my library, but I do remember it was a summertime... probably about five years ago? I loved it the first time I heard it. The name of the song is Lemonade, and the guy who sings it (Jeremy Manongdo) goes by the name Passion.
We had an event occur in our family yesterday that rocked us. It was disappointing and frustrating and sad. But by the end of the day, I didn't think there was any way I could love my husband more than I did. He was by my side, on my team, and I knew he felt what I was feeling.
My favorite line in this song is "You're soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand." I love the beach, and that line just makes sense to me.
Anyway... I love my husband and I feel like with him, I can do hard things. Thanks for being exactly what I need, baby.

*This version gets a little silly. Download the original track, without the college kids laughing in the background. You will love it.

Movie and a Book

We like to watch movies. Sometimes it takes us a few weeks to get through a whole movie, because we are so busy, plus usually I fall asleep before it ends. But we finally got through this one:

I realize it's not new. But my husband assured me it was a goodie. Have you seen it? If not, allow me to ruin the ending for you. She dies. It's horrific and depressing, and it ruined the entire movie for me. Skip finds it annoying that I expect all movies to have a happy ending. What. I do. There's enough sadness in real life. Hollywood needs to make me happy.

Hilary Swank was pretty good in her role as trailer trash who makes it big by optimistically working her way into women's boxing. You really root for her the whole movie. And then, BAM! Championship fight, grand prize... you guessed it... one million dollars. She takes a cheap hit from an animal of an opponent, falls wrong onto a chair, and breaks her neck. The rest of the movie she is paralyzed and dying. Clint Eastwood, Mr. Flint and Steel, is softened by her innocence and determination. He spends most of the movie chasing demons from his past, avoiding repentance, and lashing out at the world. And in the end, instead of finding redemption in a truly honest way, he "honors her wishes" by unplugging her breathing tube and injecting her with adrenaline. I mean, I woulda begged the guy to do the same thing for me, make no mistake. But the whole movie was so depressing, and his noble act of assisted suicide was very confusing to my conscience.

Don't see it. Unless you like that sort of thing.

Moving on.

I read this:

We like Tupac's music around here. We obviously don't listen to it very much because it is not appropriate for children, and we always seem to have some of those floating around. I am not trying to put the guy on a pedestal here. He was clearly a self-professed thug. Just ask his abs. But this book was written from the viewpoint of a young black girl whose life was profoundly affected by Pac's music. I actually checked it out of our school library... it's a Newberry Honoree. If you'd like to take a look into a life vastly different from your own and still feel connected to the honest emotions of it all, then read this. I cried a little. But I cried a lot at Million Dollar Baby, and I rate things based on the type and quantity of tears they make me shed.

The end.

A-HA!

I figured it out! I listened to the President's Speech backwards. Yes. And do you know what he said? Here are the highlights I pulled out:

-Support North Korea. NUKES RULE!

-While in school, boys should sneak into the bathroom with other boys, and girls should sneak into the bathroom with other girls because homosexuality is acceptable, even encouraged, in order to boost Democratic votes.

-Blacks unite! We can get rid of all the white people if we continue to proliferate our race. I'll make sure you get the funding you need to keep having babies, stay on welfare, and then we'll cut a deal with the Iranians to wipe out all the Causcasians.

-While we're at it, get your mom and dad to support my health care reform, so we can get rid of some of the older people in this country. They are such a drag to our society! Let's make like the Eskimos and float the nearly-deads out to sea on a small ice chunk. But only the white ones.

Seriously. I am so confused about the controversy surrounding this speech. Did you watch it? "Stay in school, work hard, do your best, overcome your challenges." The guy is a slug.

I fear for our country and its self-centered paranoias.

Tunesday: Retro Uh-Oh.

Last night, Skip and I were playing cards before we turned in for the night. This song was on the playlist, and when it came on, I started laughing. One eyebrow raised, the man says, "Yes??"
I say, "One day, my Dad and I were strolling around a KOA campground in Nephi, Utah. This was about my late teens/early twenties. We pass a small cabin and he says to me, 'Andrea. Do you see that cabin right there?' And I reply, 'Yes.' He then says to me, 'That's the cabin where you were conceived.'"

It was perhaps the most traumatic moment of my life. No child should ever be forced to learn that they were not actually dropped off by the stork. However, in honor of my parents and as a way of saying, "Hey, thanks for good times at the KOA." i offer this little number.

I love Marvin Gaye, and am convinced he was put on earth simply to improve the love lives of the human race. God bless you, MG.

ps I kinda wish this is still the way people danced. It would make chaperoning so much easier.

The Best Laid Plans Are Not Surprises.

Can I just start off by saying that about 2 months ago, I bought a new bra on CLEARANCE at Victoria's Secret. It cost $42 with shipping. It was the first bra I'd bought in about 2 years. I'm not going to name names here, but SOMESKIPBODY thought it was OUTRAGEOUS that I would pay that much for a bra!

Anyway. Moving on. Apparently, my husband is not the only one who has recently failed in the "surprise your spouse" department. I recently made the move to wean our family off of red meat. It doesn't work well with my insides, so I figured we should probably eat less of it. I did, in all fairness, tell the family about my plan.
Then I made ravioli for supper. Ordinarily, the ravioli will contain sausage or beef. I whipped up a fabulous marinara sauce, simmered my tender pasta pockets, and served up a meal divine. I sit with the family, and I notice it's not going well. By "not going well" I mean "people are making gagging sounds, eating with clenched teeth, and saying things like 'this is pretty disgusting.' "
So I yell "SURPRISE! IT'S CHICKEN AND CHEESE RAVIOLI!"

No one throws confetti. No one plays "Hail to the Chief". No one even says "Gee Mom, thanks for thinking of our health and replacing cholesterol-laden red meat with a leaner white meat!"

Mostly all they said was, "Do we still have to eat it?"


Maybe we just need to stick with a straightforward approach around here.

To Err Is Human, To Plan a Bad Surprise for Your Wife Is Not a Good Idea and Very Undivine

You will all remember the story of my husband's recent suit purchase. Mm-hmm. Well shortly after that purchase, my husband discovered that the Men's Wearhouse was having a sale: buy one, get one for $100. Needless to say, he phoned the store and squared away the issue toute de suite. We drove up the next day to select his second suit. I was totally on board with this, because now he was getting $1500 worth of suits for only $600. He will wear at least one of these suits when he is buried, and since we are planning a long and healthy life together, I feel this was money well-spent. Also, as soon as he found out, he called Paige to tell her the good news. I kid you not. And she suggested he get a summer suit. He was thrilled with the idea.

The suits are tailored, and we are expecting them via UPS by Thursday of this past week. They never show up. I start panicking, recalling our recent home invasion. I begin to think that someone is watching our home and stealing from us at every opportunity. I call the Men's Wearhouse on Saturday, and after checking the tracking numbers, they assure me it was delivered on Thursday. I am angry at the oddly effeminate clerk, even though it's not his fault. I am less than polite. I spend my entire morning sick over the theft. I finally meet up with my husband in a neighboring town where he is preparing to march in a local parade. I can hardly stand the angst. I tell him my suspicions and how sick I am.

*blink*blink*blink*

"Baby. They came. I hid them and was going to put one on Sunday morning to surprise you."

Sure enough, there in the garage amidst my potato pearls and red wheat is a box from the Men's Wearhouse. Mm-hmm.

I call the extremely effeminate salesclerk back and apologize profusely for my rudeness. I tell him he can stop trying to track my package, as my husband received it and was planning to surprise me. Mr. Effeminate immediately takes my side and says, "That was a VERY BAD surprise! VERY BAD!!" I tell him I completely agree, and that I love his shoes.

But seriously, how can you stay mad at this:


Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln. He tried them on today and then made it up to me by allowing me to photograph him in the lost-no-more suits. Back up off the screen, ladies. He's a kept man.

Also, he is awesome because of this:

Referencing the earlier break-in, you will recall my phone was stolen. I resist change. I loathe it, actually. I am a creature of habit if ever there was one. So having to get a new phone was torture for me. I loved my ancient Motorola. Yes, it is thicker than a quarter pounder with cheese, but I love it. So my finely-clad man went on Ebay and found the same ancient model. (Yes, I did inspect it thoroughly to make sure we didn't just buy my actual phone from the thieves themselves. It was missing a key scratch on the antenna. I know these things.)

Anyway. I am happy to have "my" phone back. I know which buttons to push and how it works. I am happy my husband, in spite of his "surprise" of $600 being flushed down the toilet, looks so damn good and is equally as happy.

Life is good again.

Shallow and Insignificant, with Bad Pictures.

So. I've recently tried a new curlier approach with my hair. Frankly, you people have made me blush with your inordinate amount of compliments. Thank you very much. Just be glad you are not my husband, though, because here's how the compliments played out there:

Yesterday, I straightened my hair again for the first time in months.
B: Babe, I really like your hair straight.
Me: Thanks.
Me: Wait. Are you saying you DON'T like it curly?
B: *Blink*Blink*Blink*
Me: Your tone implied that maybe you PREFER the straight to the curly. Is that the case?
B: No? *Blink*Blink*
Me: So you like it both straight AND curly?
B: Yes? *Blink* Blink*
Me: You like it better straight though?
B: Yes?
Me: Oh. Okay.

See how difficult it can be being married to me??

Anyway. I have put together for your reading pleasure a tutorial on how I do my hair. In case you care. First of all, you have to go to a great stylist who does NOT work at Fantastic Sam's. I finally learned that ten bucks will get you just that... a ten dollar haircut. Pay for quality. Get some long layers cut in, and some side-swept bangs.

Then:



Brush only the bangs over to the side, and define your part. Make sure you have a pained look on your face while doing so.


Get some good frizz-controlling mousse (thanks for the tip, Diane). Scrunch the mousse all throughout your wet hair. I do it upside down to loosen the hair a bit.



Then I pin back my bangs with a bobby pin, so they will dry sleeker. Following that, I release many pent-up frustrations by scrunching my hair in what appears to be a fit of rage.




Then you have to wait and let your hair air dry. This is better than blowdrying, but you have to plan it into your routine. I like to give about an hour, but sometimes I can only spare 15 minutes. In the meantime, I get dressed, apply makeup, eat breakfast, and listen to music.



Once my hair is only slightly damp, I finish off with a light blowdry. Reminiscent of the 80's I also do this upside down. Unlike the 80's, however, I don't shellac it while doing so. Blowdrying upside down gives it more body. Scrunching while blowdrying gives it more curl.



When you finish that step, you will look like this:
This is acceptable only if your last name is Frankenstein. Otherwise, it's time to tame.


I use a one-and-a-half inch barrel curling iron. I only curl the top layers, to keep it looking more natural and less Pollyanna. I spray my hair with hairspray before I curl, which prevents the nasty sticky curls you get when you spray after curling. I curl some towards my face and some away from my face, again to keep it looking natural. I NEVER smile while doing this part.


Then I take the bobby pin out of my bangs, and smooth them with the iron.


Lastly, I separate the curls, which step apparently makes me look constipated.







My hairdresser once used the phrase "back comb" in my presence. ONCE. Back comb and "bump-it" just don't work for me. But a little height does add body and volume, so I take a teeny bit in the front, lift it, and spray.




So here you have it. I can see a few other spots that need attention here, but you get the general idea. It actually takes me less time to do this than it does to straighten.





So if you all want to look exactly like me, now you know how. I am considering starting a small army of hair clones. Let me know if you are interested in enlisting.

WHAT A BARGAIN!

Today my husband and I stopped in at a little establishment known as The Men's Wearhouse. He is in need of a new suit, hence our visit to said establishment.

The guy who waited on us was a teense on the pretentious side for my taste. Here's how the whole thing played out:

Mr. Big Stuff: Let me just measure you here. Mm-hmm. I see. Mm-hmm. Athletic build. Follow me please. Here we have a classic black. Let's give it a try, shall we?
B: I like that. It looks nice.
He proceeds to try on a few other jackets until he finds one that he wants to try on in full.

Mr. Big Stuff: Follow me into my office please. Mm-hmm.
His office is a fitting room with lots of mirrors.
Mr. Big Stuff: Let me get a darker pair of shoes and a different shirt for you to try on. What size shoe is the gentleman?
B: Twelve.
Mr. Big Stuff: Twelve. Mm-hmm.

My husband tries on the suit in full, with the shirt and shoes. He looks good. Mr. Big Stuff begins to mark the suit for alterations.

Me: So apparently this is the suit we're getting?
Mr. Big Stuff: Yes. This is a custom-tailored blah blah blah with horse hair lining, made by blah blah blah in some uppity country yadda yadda for five hundred dollars.

My husband is now changing, and I am left with Mr. Big Stuff.

Me: Five hundred dollars? How much are the alterations?
Mr. Big Stuff: Five hundred dollars is an outstanding price for this suit.

My husband comes out of the changing room. He loves the suit. I tell him it's entirely up to him. He is thrilled. We go to the counter to pay.

Us: Do you give a military discount?
Mr. Big Stuff: Our prices are already deeply discounted.
Me: So in your own veiled way, you're trying to tell me that you don't offer a military discount?
Mr. Big Stuff: Our prices are already deeply discounted. Do you know how much this suit would cost at Nordstroms? I suggest you make a trip and find this same blah-blah-blah brand name suit on a rack there. The $900 price tag will be hanging from the sleeve.
Me: So you're insinuating that I will feel better about dropping five hundred dollars if I see that someone else may have paid nine hundred for the same item?
Mr. Big Stuff: Sir, how will you be paying for this?

Obviously, I was glossed over. We pay, step out to the car, and I tell my husband that five hundred dollars is a lot for a suit. He says (and I am not making this up) "Maybe you should talk to Paige about this."

Pulling out of the parking lot, we pass a building that says "Community Cremation Services". I point it out to my husband, who says "What the heck? What is it, like discount cremation or something?" To which I reply, "Yeah. Do you know how much that same cremation would go for at Nordstroms?"


At least they're shipping the suit to us after the alterations so I don't have to go back up there and listen to Mr. Big Stuff imply that I am cheap and difficult.