The Mysteries in Life

blog-meaning-of-lifeI have so many questions. Not the obvious ones… What is the meaning of life? Why can’t there be peace on earth? What happened to the other sock? These are all good questions, but I know the answers are beyond what most of us will ever understand.

My questions are not that deep. But yet, there seems to be no simple answers.

For example, what do you do with the tags on throw pillow? You can’t leave them. If you do, they end up sticking out and ruining the ambiance of your room. You can’t cut them because you can never cut close enough without leaving that strip of white. You can’t tear them off . The whole side of the pillow ends up opening up. I just don’t get it. I have seen many decorating shows, yet I have never seen a throw pillow with a tag on it in any of them.

Another mystery… what do you do with the clothes that you wear once, but they don’t need to be laundered yet? My daughter leaves them on the floor until she feels it is “safe” to repeat. Hmmm, not sure that is the best idea. My husband, wears them again the next day. Not sure that works for me either. When I hang back up a blouse or fold up a pair of jeans and put them back in my drawer, my husband tells me it is gross to mix clean clothes with “dirty” clothes.  He’s kinda right. So what do you do?

There are many more:

Why do grown women with muffin tops wear belly shirts?

Why don’t old guy trim their nose hairs?

Why do I eat when I’m not hungry?

Why can’t I back up a car?

Why does my husband find it so funny that I can’t back up a car?

 

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Six Years Later

In  2009, I was told to start a blog to help search engine rankings for my website. (The cool people call it SEO.) So I bought this really hip domain name and set out to entertain bored internet surfers around the world with my quick wit and engaging stories. It didn’t last long. Apparently quick wit is too much work for me and I really don’t have that many engaging stories.

For my first blog, I planned to introduce my 14 year old daughter Jamie so I got all painted up to take a selfie of us. (Back in that day we called them “pictures of ourselves”.) After many shots, I finally got just the right angle to make me look beautiful. Unfortunately for Jamie, it was not her best shot. In my defense, she was going through that awkward stage AND really didn’t care that I was starting a blog and wanted a nice photo of us. “That is so loosery Mom”. So I felt justified in not consulting her about the photo choice.

Me and Jamie (Because "Jamie & I" sounds rediculous)Paybacks are a bitch.

Six years later and Jamie is beautiful in even her worst shots. For me, it has become almost impossible to get just that right angle. Jamie says not to worry. “I have mad skills in Photoshop Mom.” Good thing because I hate my neck.

 

Never buy a bathing suit that comes with instructions.

The tag said that I would look 10 lbs thinner instantly! All I had to do was follow the instructions. Instructions? For a bathing suit? Ok, this couldn’t be too hard.

“Bunch the suit as if you would a pair of pantyhose.”
OK, so far, so good.

“Step into the suit and ease the bottom portion up to your waist”
Got it.

“Bend over and place your arms into the arm holes and over your shoulders.”
This was a bit tricky getting the puppies into their allocated area. But doable.

“Stand up”
Oh, look at that. Maybe 10 lbs thinner. Certainly is snug.

What they don’t say on the instructions is…”
“Be aware that you will have to pee in the pool since there is no way to repeat this process once the suit is wet.”

How long did I struggle in that bathroom? It felt like hours.

A Christmas Story

My daughter was three years old. It was her first year of Sunday School and Christmas was on its way. I picked her up from class and she asked, “You know all about Kristen, right Mom?’

“Who’s Kristen, Honey?”

“You know, from Sunday School.”

“A girl in your class?”

“No, the one who makes leaves and sticks. She lives at the North Pole… or South America. I forget. She has a lot of houses. Her birthday is Christmas.”

“Do you mean Jesus?”

“That’s it — Jesus. Her last name is God, right?’