In case you ever wondered...

You know those annoying packing peanuts that are so abundant during the holiday gift giving season? You know the ones...they make your teeth hurt when they squeak together while you are trying to retrieve whatever goody might be stashed within them. In case you ever wondered what happens to one packing peanut when a 2 1/2 year old gets a hold of it, check out this picture.

This is just 1 peanut. Just one. I do not even want to THINK about what it would look like if he got a hold of this....


I don't think my vacuum cleaner is ready for that.

It's been too long of a week to think of a clever title.

I've been playing with my adobe some more. I took some pictures of the flowers in my grandfather's yard over Thanksgiving. After living away from the south for 9 years (seriously, has it been that long???), I had forgotten that late November could still have some color to it. Everything is barren and desolate in Northern MO by the middle of November, so I loved all the beautiful flowers he had in his backyard. I especially loved this rose I found hiding behind the exceptionally large wood pile. (expecting a cold winter, you southern fried weather wimps?)

I decided to play with this picture first before messing with the zillion others I took.


original




sandstone texture



canvas texture




color fade with marbled glass

Look at me! I sound like I know what I'm talking about. Oh well, it's fun anyway. If I could just figure out how to make edges around it, like to make it look like a postcard or something. I'm having difficulty making it do what I want it to. But, this is the story of my life!

Why do I do this?

Ever since I was child, I have had things I "must" have. My birthday and Christmas are fairly close together, so I would tend to save up a big list of hot new items I needed and would ask for them for either occasion. The problem with my wishing and hoping and coveting these treasures for almost a year prior to getting to lay my hot little hands on them, meant that once I had them in my possession, I was afraid I would "waste" my precious toy in some meaningless way. Let me try to explain.

I wanted an Easy Bake Oven very very badly. Those little cakes looked absolutely scrumptious on the commercials, and though I love my mother very much and appreciate every single thing she did for me growing up, there was never a scrumptious home baked cake ever formulated in our kitchen. That was my Nana's department. My Nana made beautiful cakes and I so wished I could do that, too. So naturally, the little Susie homemaker that resides in every little girl's heart saw those fabulous little cakes on the TV and just HAD to have an Easy Bake Oven. These was very good marketing techniques. It's like they knew I was sitting there wishing for a special homemade cake, and one that was made entirely by my clumsy and inexperienced baker's hands. I began to make plans in my head of what my cakes would look like when I would someday by the proud owner of my very own Easy Bake Oven. I slipped not so subtle hints to anyone who would listen to me (namely those who were both related to me and had possession of a checkbook or credit card, thus insuring optimal chances at unwrapping this amazing machine come birthday or Christmas).

Low and behold, I got my Easy Bake Oven. Now I can't remember if it turned out to be for a birthday or Christmas, but I know I got it. I wanted to open the box right then and there and turn out a baker's dozen of those precious little cakes for my entire family to show my appreciation for their acknowledgment of my dreams and desires concerning my baking skills. Eventually, I was convinced that the oven, while it may be Easy Bake, was not Easy Assemble, and that maybe we should wait until another time to tackle that particular beast. When I finally got the chance to try out my prize, I made a little chocolate cake. I remember being very impatient because the girl's on the commercial clearly only had to wait 3.5 seconds before they would slide their finished product out and declare it to be ready. I also remember being very proud of my cake, and I couldn't figure out why no one wanted to share in my delicious treat. (Now I'm thinking it's because the cake looked like a flattened dog turd...but that's just me...)

As I began to clean up and put my Easy Bake Oven back into the box to await the next baking adventure I would have, I realized that there were only a couple more packets of cake mix included with the oven. I decided right then and there that I would use my cake packets sparingly and only indulge people with my tasty morsels for the most important of occasions.

I'm sad to report that I never again used my Easy Bake Oven. I could never find an event important enough to use my last packets of mix. Nevermind that you could probably buy more. I just couldn't bring myself to end my affair with my oven that quickly. So instead, I ended it slowly and dreadfully. I ended it by never touching it again, but by looking at the box in the top of my closet every day and dreaming of my important moments that would bring me to bake again.

Unfortunately, my Easy Bake Oven isn't the only thing that I've "saved" up until sometime important. I seemed to always have a supply of specialty pencils and erasers that must have been special to me for reasons I couldn't possibly remember now. Did I ever use those pencils or erasers? Nope. I think I ended up selling them at a garage sale a few years ago. (Don't even ask why I still had that crap all these years later...that's a whole different can of worms.)

I love to scrapbook and for years I've bought an endless amount of stickers and paper and embellishments. For several years, these things have sat in my craft boxes and I found myself saying over and over "I'm just waiting for the perfect picture for this..." Finally, I realized that the "perfect" picture doesn't have to be perfect after all, and I finally started using some of my stickers on pages of my family.

I'm really trying to change my way of thinking, because as long as I'm living my life waiting on something "perfect" to come along, I'm going to be missing all the "perfectly imperfect" things that life has to offer. So far, I'm liking this new approach.

Recently, I've been trying to research (and by research I mean google...so it's pretty advanced research...) ways to make my pictures turn out better. I love to take a million pictures of my son, because I love to scrapbook. (I need something to use those stickers with!) Because I'm always trying to take pictures, I got Photoshop Elements a couple of Christmas's ago, but I never had the patience to figure it out. Besides, I thought, there will be something really special for me to use it with. (Sheesh, I have a problem!) My husband has more or less figured it out, and does a pretty good job editing pictures. Tonight, I decided I would try one more time. Armed with my Google search for tutorials, I played with a picture that my husband took last week of a rundown chapel in the middle of nowhere. (For anyone native to this area, it's known as Workman's Chapel, and it's supposedly a seriously haunted place. It must not be too scary these days, because the way it looked a few years ago and to what it looks like now, people have done some serious vandalism, which is just sad.) Here are some pictures, just to prove that I really did try to learn, and to show that I'm really proud of myself. It's nothing professional for sure, but it made my night to accomplish something I thought was impossible.


This is the original picture

This is the edit my husband did.

This was my first edit

This was my second edit

And this was my third edit.

Like I said, nothing fantastic, but a sense of accomplishment nonetheless.


On another note, now I feel guilty for not using it for so long. As I searched for tutorials for my Elements version, I realized that version 8.0 is now available. Mine is 4.0....that's how long I let a perfectly good gift sit around and gather virtual dust. It was my Easy Bake Oven all over again. Only this time, I'm not going to continue to let it go to waste!

When did I get old?

I have to admit that I have never really thought I would get old. No, I take that back. Not that I wouldn't get old, just that I wouldn't grow up. Sometimes I look around and I can't really believe that I'm a college graduate, with a husband and a son, and a job that I've been at for 4 years. I swear I still feel like a kid sometimes. I can't believe how much time has passed, and there are days when life feels very surreal. Now don't get me wrong, I love everything about my life. I'm just saying that every once in a while, I really stop and look around, and forget how I ended up here. Just how much time has passed really catches me off guard.

I still feel like it was a just a couple of years ago that I was in college, drinking every weekend, staying out late, and having a really good time. Unfortunately, that was when I was 20, 21, 22, etc. On paper, 26 (and 11/12ths) doesn't seem all that far from 20, 21, 22...but believe me, it is!

When I met my husband, he introduced me to some classic country, in particular Hank Williams Jr. Now I know that he was MUCH older than 26 (and 11/12ths) when he sang about all his rowdy friends settling down, but at the time, I couldn't really understand the line he said about "the hangovers hurt more than they use to". What does that mean? How could a hangover hurt more than it already does? Today, I found the answer to that question. And boy, was Hank right!

I very rarely "go out" anymore. (To "go out" is the nice way of saying "I'm getting drunk and singing loudly and dancing erratically and taking terrible pictures with my purse camera and scream when I see someone I haven't seen in a while and generally just have a good time.") But, every once in a great while, there is some small town event that calls for a whoopin' and hollerin' time. This such event was the local college homecoming. Unfortunately, when I went home at midnight, I noticed that I was not up to the standards of the college age party-goers...who were all still going strong. I was already beginning to realize what would be in store for me come dawn's early light. I believe the first words out of my mouth when I woke up was "I'm too old for this [insert expletive here]." That's when I realized what Hank had been saying, and it had finally hit home. Which made me think of another country favorite-Garth Brooks said it best: "I'm much to young to feel this damn old..."

Random memories

Do you ever randomly recall something from your childhood and wonder why the hell you are hanging on to that thought? I do it all the time. In fact, my husband says I remember way too much about growing up and that if I'd clear my head of all that unnecessary stuff, I might regain some of my short term memory. No matter what I do though, I always just randomly think of something and then it starts triggering all kinds of crazy memories.

Today, my nephew was watching a show on Nickelodeon called Brain Surge. He was explaining it to me and got really excited when the first two eliminated kids had to take a ride down the "Brain Drain" which, it turns out, is a slide filled with some sort of whipped cream/shaving cream looking substance. The foam also shoots down from the top of the slide, so that the kids are completely covered in it by the time they reach the end. My nephew was, of course, cheering the entire time, which I'm sure any 6 year old would do. *Side note-I just had one of those random childhood thoughts. Correct me if I'm wrong, but was there an episode of Clarissa Explains It All in which Clarissa and her annoying brother Ferguson were on a game show together, and upon losing, had to take a ride down the "Brain Drain"? The idea seems eerily familiar, but since that show was also on Nickelodeon, I guess it's not so far fetched that an idea from our generation would be recycled into an idea for the current generation. Anyway...where was I?

Oh yeah, so I was watching this show and the kids getting all gunked up and it made me remember a show that was the absolute most awesome game show that I ever had the pleasure of turning my mind to mush with. Double Dare. Or better yet, Family Double Dare. Or how about the one with D.J. Tanner? I always thought the wacky dares they had to do were so wild and crazy, and I wished with every fiber of my being that I could somehow wake up in Orlando and be on a team for Double Dare. Of course, I wasn't taking into account my knack for absolutely sucking in anything remotely close to sports or sport like activity. Obviously, many of the dares involved such activities, as it was highly likely that the matronly mother on FDD would go slipping and sliding through the green slime and end up in a position she most likely would not have found very flattering for national television. This made for excellent ratings among children, I am sure. So for this reason, there was one challenge I wanted to do so very badly: The final double dare challenge with the giant gumball machine. You remember...didn't it look so fun??? This seemed a good fit for me, as it clearly took very little skill and a whole lot of luck to find the flag in that ball pit.

My entire childhood I think I truly believed that some day, I would get my chance to jump into the giant pit of plastic colored balls, grab the orange flag, and slide down through the dispenser, winning the grand prize for my team. It's only now at 26 (almost 27...eek!) that I realized that I'll never get the chance. Of course, with my luck, they would resurrect this show, my family would somehow be chosen to participate, and the only challenge I would get to do is to pick the giant nose.

My head is stuck on replay...

This morning I was driving in to work, listening to my favorite morning show, The Morning Mashup. Just as I turned into the parking lot at school, they finished making fun of Nicole for not knowing what organization is based in Langley, Virginia (It's the CIA, in case you didn't know) and the next thing out of the speakers was "Somebody call 911...Shawty fire burning on the dance floor. Oh whoa." At that moment I turned off my car as I was in the parking space, and running late at that. Unfortunately, the song continued in my head. All the way in the building. All the way through a co-worker's birthday breakfast. Then I got to my TA (our version of home room). I was trying to think about what I needed to share with them and all I could think was "Somebody call 911...Shawty fire burning on the dance floor. Oh whoa." Then I realized that sixteen 10 and 11 year olds were staring at me with bewildered looks on their faces. Did I just sing that out loud? Yes! Oh, great. So, I proceeded to tell them why I just burst out in song and they understood immediately. They even sang a few verses of it for me. I think they felt bad I didn't hear the whole song in the car and were making up for it! Anyway, I proceeded to get it stuck in their heads (hehe) and I went on with my day.

At first, every few minutes it was the same: I was taking attendance (She's fire burning, fire burning on the dance floor...), passing out papers (that little shawty's fire burning on the dance floor...) and so on. Eventually, I was welcoming all the little questions and problems that arise in the day of a teacher because it was driving that particular "little shawty" out of my mind! Finally, the end of the day arrived and as the last bus was called to leave, a girl in my TA said "That song has been in my head all day! Did you ever get it out of your head?" I actually had done such a good job, that it took me a minute to even process what she was talking about! Why yes, honey, it is gone! She was happy for me and went on her way.

I gathered up my things and headed for the door. It's usually a race for teachers to get out of the building the fastest on Fridays, and today was no different. I went to my car and began my journey home. Ready to not think for 15 minutes while I drove, just relaxing as the work week ended, I turned up the radio. "Somebody call 911...Shawty fire burning on the dance floor...Oh whoa!" Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! So what could I do? I turned it up even louder and sang my heart out.

Florida

I'm going to need to go to Florida. You may think I just have a desire to sit on a sandy beach with a cocktail in hand and get in some well deserved relaxation. You might be right...except that several years ago my husband and I decided that if we never visited Florida again, it would be ok with us. We're not really beach people, which is why we spent our honeymoon in Boston taking tours of historic revolutionary sites instead of soaking up the rays on some secluded piece of beachfront property somewhere. We visited my cousin in Ft. Lauderdale one spring break, did the beach thing, drove to Orlando and did the Islands of Adventure thing, even took a little sail boat around Miami harbor and did the boating thing. We thought that was plenty. He still thinks it was plenty. Until today, I agreed....

I am a Harry Potter fan. I know, I know, "it's kid's stuff". I've heard it all before. I actually used to be one of *those* people that made fun of the Harry Potter freaks. Until I saw the first two movies, I had no desire to be anywhere near anything with Harry Potter stamped across it. Then I saw the movies and decided they were really pretty good. For a kid's movie. Unfortunately, my love for books got the better of me. I couldn't leave well enough alone and just be content with the movies. I just HAD to read the books. So I immediately went to the library (I was on Christmas break from my junior year of college) and checked out the first 4 books. I read them in 3 days. I was HOOKED! I took the 4 books back and the 5th book was checked out. When I got back to college, I went to the college library. Not only was it checked out, but there was a waiting list! Seriously? Did I not just say this was the college library? And there was a waiting list?? For a KID'S book?!? I couldn't believe it. So I went to Walmart and bought it, because I could handle the suspense no longer. Then I was forced to wait for the release of 6 and 7, which was just about the most painful thing I've ever had to do (and I was in labor for 22 hours, so believe me, I know pain!). The wait was worth it because the books were absolutely amazing and everything I had hoped they would be. (I won't get into the movies right now because I'd like to go to bed sometime tonight...)

Anyway, so I pretty much love Harry Potter. In fact, one of my favorite websites is Mugglenet, which I visit regularly. *nerd alert* I have been following the development of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park and, up until now, didn't really think much about it. Until today, when they announced the rides in the HP portion of the park. They are going to have a ride called Dragon Challenge in which you decide to ride either a Chinese Fireball or a Hungarian Horntail (See Goblet of Fire for further information!). This is all great...except I've ridden this ride! Remember that trip to Florida? Went to Islands of Adventure...yeah great time. This ride is currently the Dueling Dragons ride. It's very fun. The only problem is I rode it when it was Dueling Dragons. At the time, if I had imagined I was riding a Chinese Fireball or a Hungarian Horntail, the entire ride would have been different. So, now I have to go Florida. I'm sure that my dear hubby will not only go to Florida again, but he won't laugh at all when I tell him why.

Nightmare

It began as I was walking through Walmart in search of the many items we were desparately needing. I looked left, then I looked right, and then I saw them. Stirrup pants. Black stirrup pants hanging on a rack. That was when I pinched myself and found that I wasn't having a nightmare, but that for some reason God has decided the world needs a 2nd round at this awful fashion. Now, granted, it is Walmart, so for all I know, that pair of stirrup pants has been hanging there since 1989. No wait, I know that can't be. How do I know? Because at the top of the rack was a giant picture of non other than Miley Cyrus, "designer" of said fashion offense. Seeing as how she wasn't born until 1992 (don't get worked up...I'm not a fan. I had to wikipedia it!) she must of been flipping through some old photos (probably trying to catch another glimpse of dear daddy and his world famous mullet) and thought to herself "Hannah (I imagine she calls herself Hannah...she's multiple personalities, you know!) you missed out on something great. These here pants hook right on to the bottom of your feet, so they can never have that embarassing stuck in the top of your shoe moment. Plus, they are super tight fitting, so even though I can't do anymore half naked photo shoots, people can still use their imagination to oogle me! Score!" Then she promptly called Walmart up, gave them her great idea, they accepted, because they know anything with either of her personalities endorsing them sells faster than a fried Snickers at the state fair, and now I will probably spend the next 4 years groaning out loud anytime I see a 10 year old at school wearing them. I guess next she'll be telling everyone to wear a pair of white Keds, an oversize T-shirt with the plastic side holder, and a banana clip in their hair. I tell you what though...I'm drawing the line at poofy bangs!

PSA #1

I am a teacher and from time to time I feel the need to rant about things that irritate me to death about children, parents, education, whatever...so I'm going to call these Public Service Announcements from your friendly special education teacher. Enjoy!

If you have a school aged child who is "too sick" to come to school, then don't have them at the local grocery store after school hours. If they were "too sick" to come to school, then please don't be spreading their disease and sickness to everyone else, seeing as how I'm subjected to that quite enough, thank you. On the flip side, if they are well enough to be grocery shopping, then send them to school. Without the education you are so flippantly denying them, you are undeniably cursing them to complete the devastating and destructive cycle which your life has undoubtedly followed, as well, I am sure, as your predecessors did. We teachers are working tirelessly to provide your children with a sound education to help them succeed in their future endeavors and to break this cycle of failure; however, when you blatantly disregard the importance of education, you are making our job that much more difficult.

On another note, and I'm not trying to get political, but for all the people who only watch Fox news and who think that schools will allow the classroom to be a platform for policies, you obviously have never set foot in a classroom, nor do you understand the principals behind teaching. This is not, I am quite positive, the only time that "lesson plans" have been available for political speeches and we are not "brainwashing" your children to become "crazy liberals." If you are keeping your child home for fear that we will "force" them to watch OUR president give a speech about the importance of staying in school, then you are no better than the person above who disregards education. You may teach your children whatever beliefs you feel are important to you, but at the end of the day, the thing that makes America the great nation that it is, is the fact that we are all allowed to have these differing opinions. While I may not agree with you, it doesn't mean I don't respect what you have to say. I only wish that you would be considerate enough to consider BOTH views as perfectly acceptable. The school is a place for children of all ages to learn to think for themselves, not simply regurgitate information that has been force fed to them for 12 years. That is where the beauty of a true education lies.

Small Town Living

I have always considered myself to be a city girl. I'm not from a sprawling metropolis or anything, but growing up in a town of 80,000, I felt like I truly understood city life. Since the age of 16, I would weave in and out of traffic, stomp the gas to beat the red light, and just generally drive fast all of the time. I could run a couple of miles from my house to the mall and shop at a large selection of retail establishments at my convenience. At any time, a world of cuisine opportunities were upon me as there were many eateries with which one could quench any food craving. I did always wonder, though, how in that large of a town, I seemed to know someone everywhere I went. Or even worse, someone seemed to know me because of my parents, grandparents, etc. That was even worse! When I went to college, it was to a city of 150,000. Again, the opportunities were endless and in no time, I found that having all of those things at my fingertips was just delightful!

Alas, true love happened. As most stories go, my husband and I met, fell in love, got married, and moved to his hometown, a beautiful little city that has a whopping population of 10,581. I was down with this. I really liked the town, the people seemed friendly, and I was looking forward to settling down into a nice quiet routine. It did take some getting used to in some aspects. For example, the nearest mall is 45 minutes away, and it's not really worth your time. To get a decent one, you're looking at a good 1.5 hours. But that's ok. I've learned to "compile" out of town errands. National chain restaurants...we've got an Applebee's. That's it. We've got a few hometown places that are excellent though. I wouldn't trade them for anything-not even a big bowl of Olive Garden salad and bread sticks or an Outback special!

I've always felt I'm in the right place and that I've made the right decisions to lead me here, but today I realized that I am, indeed, now a small town girl. The state college in town started classes this week. I was appalled today when the traffic was backed up 2 miles on the main street (appropriately named Main Street). Yesterday, it was backed up about the same, and I mistakenly turned into it. Today, I proved that I am a creature who learns from her mistakes and as I saw the traffic, promptly turned around and took the "back way." That's how I knew what I was. I know the "back way" in a town of 10,000 people. Something else...the way I always knew people everywhere I went growing up, amplify that by about a million and you get what it's like in a small town. Especially being a public school teacher, you can't go anywhere without knowing someone! This was proven to my mother and grandmother this summer when, while they were visiting, we ran into walmart, and I was addressed as Mrs. McComb by every kid who passed us. I suppose it's a good thing I love my life here so much. It's only taken 4 years, but I finally feel at home as a "townie."

Chomp!

Whenever people ask me "Do you have a baby?" I always say, "Yes." Because it's true. Sort of. Up until his 2nd birthday this past summer, I technically did have a baby. I knew that he would turn 2 and I would have to stop referring to him as my baby, but old habits die hard. After today, I definitely can not call him my baby and must only refer to him as my big boy. Or, I guess son would work, too. :)

When I picked him up from Grandma and Papa's today, my baby was doing something I thought I had at least 3 or 4 more years before it started. No, I'm not talking about using the "potty" or speaking in full sentences. My son was chewing gum. Now, I'm not at all upset that he was chewing gum. It's not like I've got a no fun policy for my child. I just really didn't expect him to have any concept of gum chewing. I mean, up until now, he knows to put food items in his mouth, chew a few times, and swallow. Pretty basic stuff. But today, he had a piece of gum, and apparently had it for at least an hour. The same piece! I just couldn't believe it. I just can't comprehend how in the world my 2 year old knows that chewing gum is just for that-chewing. He didn't swallow it, he didn't stick it in his hair. Nothing. Just chewed. Amazing. All the way home, he happily smacked his gum and said "num, num, num" with every chomp. And I have to admit, after I got over the shock that I have a son who is old enough to chew gum, I thought it was all pretty cute. I just have to face facts and realize that my baby is growing up. It's so cliche, but I'm going to say it. They really do grow up so fast. Before I know it, he's going to be starting school, then graduating....and on and on to times and places that really will make me cry if I think about too hard. So I'm not going to. Not yet. I'm just going to enjoy this new milestone in our lives and be thankful for everything we have.

The only problem is, now that's it's nap time, how am I going to get this gum out of his mouth?

Writing

I want to be a writer. No, not really, but it would make sense. Ever since I can remember, I've loved books. I love characters, plots, settings, and details. Man, I love details. Anyone who has heard me tell a story with an unnecessary amount of details knows I love them. Can't live without them. Naturally, as much as I like books, I should be a writer. Unfortunately, I can't write. I don't mean that I don't know how to physically write. Obviously, I have the ability to pick up a writing utensil and construct both simple and complex sentences. I can even type them, as you are witnessing now. I just don't have anything interesting to say. You can probably see what I mean by the fact that I am writing about writing. Nothing at all. But everyone writes blogs about interesting things everyday, so why not me? I've kept a blog about my son to keep my far away family informed, but I doubt anyone else really wants to read about a new tooth or the fact that he can stand on one foot for about 1.3 seconds. So when a friend requested to read my blog, I thought, maybe I should try to be interesting in another way. So here I am writing. About writing. And I'm still uninteresting. But for the sake of trying new things, I'm going to attempt it. As a disclaimer to my ability, I have never been funny or clever, or even remotely original, so this may become incredibly mind-numbing for you readers, if there are readers. So, whoever is reading this, here goes nothing!