Saturday, November 22, 2014

Only One Reason to Hate Cleaning? Really?

Glass, and wood, and tile, so many surfaces, each one needing certain care.

I want to win the lottery so I can install a central spigot in my house that wets everything down and then I just run through and spray Mrs. Murphy's all-purpose cleaner over it all.

Nothing makes me swear under my breath more than cleaning. I've never liked doing it, I fight it and put it off and then the moment comes when sunlight pours in through the kitchen window and illuminates every smudge, grease smear, and spaghetti sauce splashed wall.

It's time to clean, (ahem- beyond time to clean) and this house went past the point of no return about a month ago. I have a friend who bounds out of bed on Saturday mornings with the energy of Elvis knowing his mama is making him banana peanut butter toast for breakfast when it's time for her to clean.

Not me. I have my reasons for dragging my feet when it comes to scrubbing the tubs and toilets. If you asked me why, I'd give you 11 of them:

1.) If people know who I am, it really doesn't matter what my house looks like.

2.) You are never done.

3.) It takes way too much time.

4.) It makes me forget how to smile.

5.) Some rooms are harder than others.

6.) It's so much easier to mess things up then clean it up.

7.) It never looks like I did anything even if I spent all day doing it.

8.) You find some little thing that your child made when he was in preschool, and then you're a heaping puddle of a mess right there in the middle of the closet floor.

9.) If you're old like I am, bending over and scrubbing is not as easy as the three seconds it takes to say that.

10.) You have to dust, clean, put away, wipe, mop, scrub, sweep. It's different little things that there are too many of.

11.) Getting a cleaning service is dumb because you end up until midnight cleaning for the people anyway.
As long as I'm alive, I'll be living in a house *knock on wood* and there is no way that I can ever fall in love with a bucket of warm soapy water and a sponge. The only solution I see is bribing my friend who loves to clean to be my neighbor. I think I'll send her some messp*rn pictures via email tonight. That should have her shivering in scrubbing anticipation and at my door by 8 a.m. tomorrow.
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I'm blogging every day for the month of November, it's part of National Blog Posting Month, NaBloPoMo. Join in, even if the month is 2/3 through... it's a great way to challenge yourself!

Friday, November 21, 2014

Titles of Posts That I Will Never Be Able to Write a Body For

What I Like About Mushrooms

101 Uses for Vinegar

When You Don't Know How to Teach Kids Not to Be Brats

How to Love Math

Doughnut Free and Happy

Why I Love to Be in the Snow

Yummy Boiled Cabbage Recipes

Ancient Alien Civilizations

Mmm Mmm Cheeseless Pizza!

Target on $50 or Less

Why I Quit Caffeine

11 Things to Love About Getting Old

How to Run/Do Yoga/Stretch/and Kick-box Before 9 A.M.

Life While Paleo

WeMail, Mailbox, Boxer, Inbox, Tipbit, Cannonall: I Review the Latest Email Apps

Why Wait Until Christmas Week to Decorate!

I Like My Coffee Black

My House is Spotless, Here's How

Secrets to a Sexy Stomach

Accepting  the Child That Farts the Most

Spouses and Annoying Noises and the People Who Love Them

The Fascinating Field of Parasitology

Ways to Offer Your Organizational Advice

Learning to Say No to Books

Embracing a Life Without Sugar

Miniskirts at Any Age!

A Step by Step Guide to Saying No: Too Many Invitations Not Enough Open Nights

7-8 Hours: How to Get That Beauty Sleep
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I'm blogging every day for the month of November, it's part of National Blog Posting Month, NaBloPoMo. Join in, even if the month is 2/3 through... it's a great way to challenge yourself!

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Template: Where I'm From

A poem by George Ella Lyon called "Where I'm From," has been around the internet for awhile, but I've never felt drawn to make the time to try it.

But then it was assigned to my son's English class, and I had to wonder why it never called to me. After talking to him about it, we saw all the directions an assignment like this could take. You could complete this like a driver's license application, or beat poetry night, you could be as abstract as a dream. That's it right there, how do you write about yourself?

Funny, serious, heartbreaking, a reporting of facts? Any way and as many ways that feel like you, you could write forever. The work is in taking yourself on. The pondering of you. 

The undeniable feature of writing your "Where I'm From" is that you realize no one can do it for you. You're the only one.

I encourage you to make the time for your "Where I'm From", like I did with mine here:
It is truly a moving experience. 

Where I'm From

I am from early morning voices humming in the dawn, from flowered aprons and wooden mortars and pestles.

I am from a house where the kitchen was home, small faces pressed against windows, breathing out steam to make our artist's canvas. 

I am from cumin, cilantro, coarse meal, ground fine by a garden's rock. 

I am from sad melodies and voices that break, from Lilias, and Rositas, and Anas and Marias.

I am from dreams brazenly spoken and sighs kept in silence. 

From the one who once held so much to starting anew. 

I am from time-worn beads grooved from prayer, from belief strong enough to break strands.  

I'm from stories of miracles told with a hush, from streets of cobbled bricks and the mountains beyond.

From an Abuela who held me, in arms that were never too full, too busy, too tired.

I am from pieces and bits, smudged faded scraps of her words, born in her soul and written by hands that swept my tears away into my curls.
Here is the basic Where I'm From template. *I'd love it if you tried it with your kids.  
I am from _______ (specific ordinary item), from _______ (product name) and _______.
I am from the _______ (home description... adjective, adjective, sensory detail).
I am from the _______ (plant, flower, natural item), the _______ (plant, flower, natural detail)
I am from _______ (family tradition) and _______ (family trait), from _______ (name of family member) and _______ (another family name) and _______ (family name).
I am from the _______ (description of family tendency) and _______ (another one).
From _______ (something you were told as a child) and _______ (another).
I am from (representation of religion, or lack of it). Further description.
I'm from _______ (place of birth and family ancestry), _______ (two food items representing your family).
From the _______ (specific family story about a specific person and detail), the _______ (another detail, and the _______ (another detail about another family member).
I am from _______ (location of family pictures, mementos, archives and several more lines indicating their worth).

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Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Winter Thesaurus

I don't know about you, but some days, I feel plain old sorry for my children.

The things that they have to listen to that stumble out of my mouth. It makes me want to dig up and carry around my college transcripts to show them that once, yes, mama had a working brain. Today, by far, one of the most ridiculous sentences imaginable tripped out of my mouth. As I heard myself saying the last word, I could almost read my childrens' minds, Whatever happened to poor mama that makes her talk like that...

"It's so cold that the temperature outside is just making everything cold."

That's what I had to say to them about today's weather. It was too late to take a single syllable back and I vowed at that moment, never again. I am going to lexeme the heck out of an internet search and unearth every descriptor possible for the word *cold*,  with the Arctic blast as my witness, my children will never have their ears assaulted by the thudding crapshoot remnants of my once bountiful vocabulary.

Help yourself to the list below, my friends, and borrow heavily so that the next time you find yourself out on a blustery day worthy of A.A. Milne's imagination, the tender pinnae around you will get an icy treat:


Since I live in Wisconsin, there will be no shortage of opportunity to run through this list at least four times over before we next see the blooms on our trees.

By which time, I'm sure I'll be uttering the most exquisite expression possible of life during a Midwestern winter, "I'm very cold."

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I'm taking part in NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. I'm publishing a blog post every day during November. It's never too late to start, so give it a try! 


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

The First Tiiiiimme, Ever I Wrote a Post...

It's the 18th day of National Blog Posting Month. Some people have already called it quits. Some people are already calling their posts desperate.

I'm in it, I'm doing it, and as for posts being desperate? Nope. What we see happening right about now is the creativity that comes from having to find words. It's one of the best exercises for a writer. To take the ordinary and make it into presentable, workable words.

Not everything has to be compelling and riveting. My measure is my pleasure. Have I enjoyed doing NaBloPoMo? The answer is yes. I have liked the idea of knowing a post awaits me, and every day so far this month, I've come through.

But let's get down to business. What am I writing about here today? And what's with the post title. I almost left it at "The First Time" but I don't want to be pulled into the pull of being a clickbait wanker. (and yes, I know what wanker means) What you are about to see today, is The First Time, Ever I Wrote a Post.

Did the earth move on that day five years ago? It might as well have. My heart pounded and my palms were sweaty.

I somehow had the intuition, that with starting a blog, my life was about to change. And it did. With the finding of community, with stretching myself beyond the limits I had set, with learning new things, and with taking a chance. Publishing that first day was monumental for me. I was worried, anxious, apprehensive. Would anyone read me? Who would it be? Was my writing going to be any good? How many posts did I have inside me?  

Here we are, five years later. While it is painful to look back and read the inexperienced voice, I can't be ashamed (I can cringe, though) I learned to walk, and now I trot. I went after something I wanted, and started a blog. Now, when I enter that zen of creativity, I'm at full gallop. 

Readers, I pull out and dust off, for all to see, My First Post:
What Can Happen, Right?

So, here we go. Day One.

What can happen, right?

Why am I so nervous??

If you do visit here, you'll pick up that I'm really freaked out by doing something wrong--always. And, I'm also afraid of a lot of things. Blogging, for instance. I finally don't want to let me being afraid of blogging, stop me.

No more. A new me..."FEAR??! You no longer have a hold on me!" See? I'm blogging...

I have begun to blog.

I have my niece as my guaranteed commenter. She promised.

Whether you know me or not, it'll be great for me to finally have a place for you to come visit.

I've visited blogs for about three years now. I never had a place to say, "Hey, come visit me now."

Now I do.

Maybe that's what makes me nervous. It was pretty easy to set this up, you guys. You know what they say about things seeming too easy. There must be a catch! So far, this is pretty pretty easy. I can't believe how easy. So, what's the catch, right? Scary easy, like any nimrod could do it. ANY.

The best reason for me to blog is that I have a feeling there are people out there, I just have this need to know. People like me, that need to read, that can't read enough. That find company in others' words. I visit so many blogs now, and count on the words of these bloggers daily. They have added happiness and joy to my days here, and they make me happy and keep me from feeling alone on so very many days.

I want to do that very same thing for people, too--make them laugh, smile, find acceptance, have a place to stop in--as they work through their day.

That sentence makes me realize how much I miss working, the gathering around the coffee pot before we all hit our desks for the day. I miss the people.

A blog is like the coffee pot at work; catching up, saying hi, and not feeling like we're on our own out here. It's really nice to have a place to talk.

I think this is going to be fun. I'm having fun already, right now. But I do feel a little bit dumb. I'm not even talking to anyone yet (can I really be that simple minded? Oh, cripes...) I love to write, always, I love to write.

In other words, What can happen, right?

Carpe Diem! (I think it'll be symbolic to end each post with a carp and say carpe diem... my kids, not so much, they say stop ... but I like it.)

*Not really liking the italics... I've seen them used on other blogs. But, maybe I'll keep it to dialogue. (yeah, right... like I'm going to be dialoguing myself now) I will work on that after I see what text choices I have. Ha, listen to me, like it'll be easy. ... that'll eat up two hours of my day (wish I were kidding... )


I am THE dork at the keyboard.

Ready. Set. [sweaty palms] and... PUBLISH.


(omg you guys, I did it)



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