I'll Be Your Friend

I'm catching up on my magazine reading and I'm finally up to my November back issues. Woo hoo! Progress. Anyway, there's an advice column in Redbook Magazine and one of the letters caught my attention....

"I have a coworker who won't confide in me or anyone else at our job anymore. Also, when I dish to her about other people we work with, she doesn't even respond. I want her to confide in me because I think she needs my help to get her life together- she's made some very bad dating choices in the past, and I don't really care for how she does her makeup or hair. I think she needs my friendship, because she sounds so pathetic. The other coworkers suspect that she stopped confiding in us because she thinks we talk about her behind her back- but we only do it because we care. How do I get this coworker to let down her guard and let me back in?"
T.M. 39, Henderson, NV

Wow, T.M., since there's an opening, wanna be my friend? You're going to HATE my hair and makeup.

I'm Not an Addict. Maybe That's a Lie.

Etsy, the haven for the handmade artisan. A place to sell your wares, make new friends, and hopefully meet many new long term customers. But wait, there's more! In addition to all of this, you will also receive the Forums, Teams, Treasuries, Chat Rooms, Virtual Labs and The Storque. And you thought crafting would be a full time job, oh no, you don't know full time until you've fully immersed yourself in the Crafty Crack that Etsy has to offer.

When you're not busy checking the forums for the latest gossip, site question or rant/rave, you're chatting with your team members while waiting for the treasury to open. The treasury may very well be my own personal Etsy vice. It is an addiction for which there is no cure. Except maybe a power outtage. But even then, I'd be Hell bent on finding a way to be there when the number of treasuries dropped to 332.

Then there is the occasional Virtual Lab or Storque article that catches your interest, and you're yet again getting your Crafty Crack fix. With all of these fabulous extras, who has time to work on new inventory for your Etsy shop or even promote what you already have in store? Or even do anything offline, like your "real" job.

I'm just saying that I too could be one of those top Etsy sellers if I wasn't needing my daily fixes. Even when there's nothing interesting going on, I'm obsessively checking to make sure I don't miss any Crafty Crack. Yup, I'm convinced I am top seller worthy, I just need to..... hold on.... the treasuries are about to open.

Is There a Black Thumb?

Jim is always teasing me that I cannot keep a houseplant alive to save my life, or its life, more appropriately. If it's green, please don't bring it into my house. This is where houseplants come to die. But I like to think that maybe I'm just helping them out of their misery, like the Dr. Kevorkian of potted plants, without the jail time. If it weren't for me, there would be strewn ceramic pots and garden soil littering the area under the nearest bridge. So, you're welcome. :o)

Besides, it's a trade off. Which is more important, that the banana leaf tree in the corner is still alive (ps it's not) or that the kids are? I let him pick because there are plenty of days I miss that tree. :oP

Here are some plants more suited to my gardening style.........

"A Sprout Pattern" by sweees

"Cute Cactus Pincushion" by FerragamoStudio

"Outside In wall graphic" by ellynelly

I think this photographer might have been in my house
"just dead" by elephantdreams

OMG! There's a Banshee in my House!!!

It's day 3 and I'm ready to gouge out my eardrums with a toothpick. Ryah is coming up on her 2nd birthday in a couple of months and she's supposed to be weaned from the bottle by then, so Jim and I decided it was time to get rid of them, give her the tab and cut her off. Yup, we made her go cold turkey. I never said we were nice but it's like a Bandaid right? Just rip it off quickly; no need to draw it out. But I guess if she has to suffer we all do. And my miserable banshee loves company.
It's gotten to the point that I can still here her even after she's stopped crying. Like a "phantom annoyer." And it's not just crying, oh no, it's a screaming/crying tantrum. Ugh.
The first night, it lasted for 3 hours straight. The second night only an hour. Tonight, about a half hour, so we are making progress. I think we're wearing her out, finally. Though it's not easy when children's cries were designed to annoy the Hell out of us so that we will eventually come to their aid. And I don't know if I should be offended or grateful that during her tantrums, Ryah is always asking for "Daddy" to come and save her. I guess she already knows who the sucker and the hardass are in this family. :oP

My Funny Valentine

by MewPaperArts (Love Sucks Cards)

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a fan of Valentine's Day. The last time I celebrated it was probably in grade school when giving cards was mandatory. Do you even know where the holiday originates from? Apparently, no one does. In reading up on it, there really is no definitive answer, however, it sounds an awful lot like celebrating the martyrdom of two different Saint Valentine's. Neither of which has to do with love, cards or chocolates. And forgive me, but if I need a day to remind myself to tell the ones I love that I love them, we have bigger issues than finding the right sentiment. But if I must share my Valentine's Day sentiments, then what better way than these?

by weberphoto ("Desperate Black Rose")

by maybeyoushoulddie (on the inside it says "You Already Got Your Gift.")

by ArtByLupeFlores (Titled "Love Me Or Else Voodoo Doll")

*Sigh* Valentine's Day. Gets ya right here. (I'm pointing to my wallet).

Nostalgic for Juice Boxes

Remember when your life was so much simpler? No bills to pay, morgtage screaming "boo, haha" at you every month, or 2-year-old boss ordering you to make them lunch? Yeah, me either, but if I had to guess, I'd have to say juice boxes and legos were probably involved. *Sigh* Let's pretend our memories are better than we give them credit for and visit some blasts from the past, shall we?

WeberPhoto

It's Slinky, it's Slinky. For fun it's a wonderful toy.

It's Slinky, it's Slinky. It's fun for a girl or a boy.

JustFeltHungry

I always wanted one of those play kitchens with the fake food. My parents thought spending the money on real food was more practical. Oh well. :oP

ElegantSnobbery

Adorable sock monkey prints. PS Happy Birthday, Marisa!

EarthBabyBoutique

I had several of these kinds of dolls. Usually with brown yarn hair.

MorganBosley

And finally, the Legos. Yes, I still have these. And no, not the girly pink and purple ones but the super cool regular ones. Ah memories.

SAHM is a Four Letter Word

Okay, so it's really a four letter acronym, but whatever, I've got enough going on and I can't be bothered with the petty details.

You know, boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. Until someone has the genius idea that maybe "we should have a baby." We delude ourselves to think we'll be the best parents ever and we won't "raise our kids like that." Of course, we're usually eyeing the frazzled mom of 4 who's two year old is throwing an all out kicking and screaming meltdown, while she holds onto her 4 year old and scolds him for hitting his 6 year old brother, and OMG, what did the baby just put in her mouth?! I don't think that was edible.

It's easy when you have one, though, you don't realize it until you have two and by then, it's too late to realize how good you really had it. Damn hindsight. Once you have two, that's double the daycare and you begin to realize that it really isn't worth going to a job you hate only to squander most of your paycheck to keep your kids at someone else's house while you pretend to give a rats ass about those TPS reports. And so, you decide to *gasp* become a stay-at-home-mom. Ugh. Those four words could not have more vomit inducing meaning for me. I think God may have forgotten to give me a maternal instinct and went a little overboard with honesty and snarkiness.

So yes, I am a {gulp} stay-at-home-mom, technically speaking anyway. And it's by far the hardest worst paying job I've ever had. That includes the time I worked concessions at the local movie theatre for $6.50/hr so that people could complain about candy prices and insist I give them a coronary by adding a gallon of extra butter to their popcorn.

Whoever tried to depict the stay-at-home-mom as some couch sitting, soap opera watching, bon-bon eating laze has clearly never done it. And I wish more than anything they'd been right because I feel a little misled. :oP

Four Bridesmaids and a Funeral

Ah, weddings. The flowers, the cake, the dress, the bridesmaids, the tuxedos, the rings, the groom and the Bridezilla.

Today is my husband and mine's 8th anniversary. In all my life, I have attended two weddings, my own and my "friend's" who we shall call D. I know you're jealous right? That I have escaped the pains of the horrid dresses, snarky brides and day long wedding preps, and all relatively unscathed. Wrong. Out of the two weddings, I only care to remember my own.

I had known D for a year, through work, and she picked me to be her Matron of Honor. I was surprised considering out of her 5 bridesmaids, she'd known me the least amount of time and I was picked over her two closest friends and her own sister. But hey, she said I would probably throw her the better parties, so I was nominated. Of course, she was right, I threw a couple of kick-ass parties; a stock the wine cellar bridal shower and a night on the town bachelorette party. All of which took place MONTHS before the actual wedding. This was to ensure that one of the out of towners could be there.
After the parties were thrown, I told D to let me know if she needed anything and that I would be there to help. We exchanged phone calls and emails probably at least once a week. And I always said, "just let me know if you need anything." She never took me up on it, but little did I know, I was supposed to read her mind with my super Matron of Honor ESP senses. Silly me.
The DAY before the wedding, I went to the rehearsal dinner and was frozen out by everyone, including the bride's mother and the groomsmen. Wow, what the heck did I do? Apparently, it's what I didn't do. Everything was done behind my back and I had no clue what was going on. One of the other bridesmaids was oh-so-kind enough to fill me in. She let me know that I was supposed to be calling D every single day and just showing up to help out. Really? With a young child at home, that totally sounded like a great plan. Let me drop everything and meet you now! And I'll also break out my knee pads, it's easier to worship the ground you walk on.

So, I was excluded from the bridal sleepover and on the day of the wedding I was demoted while someone else took over the Maid of Honor duties. Of course, no one told me, it just happened.
That was the longest day of my life. I literally spent an entire day with Bridezilla and her cronies, where I was left out and ignored but expected to participate out of obligation and because if I wasn't there, I would "throw off the numbers." Her words, not mine.
After the ceremony, I'd had enough, I'd filled my numbers obligation but I wasn't about to stick around and play nice during the reception. I high-tailed it out of there with my super supportive husband (who told me not to go to begin with), and never spoke to her again. Two weeks later, she left a message on Jim's phone asking for tech support on her laptop. He texted back that he couldn't help her and that was that. Some nerve.

So, lesson learned, make sure you have ESP, no children, no spouse, no life, and give the bride her 6 months because having just one day surely isn't long enough to fully ruin a friendship. It also works better if you are fully dispensable when all is said and done, and you haven't yet matured beyond high school. Ugh.

(Cue after school special music) So to the future bride, do you really want to be a Bridezilla? With all of the t-shirts and hats available, apparently some do, but why? On the one day you want to be worshipped, do you really want your bridal party calling you an overbearing bitch behind your back? Is your day so important, that those around you are so much less so? Is one day worth screwing up years of friendships? If you want them to think of you make sure you think of them. Moral of the story, don't be a bizatch unless you don't mind that the best friend you're marrying will be the only one you have left.

Jim and I can now joke about how I became the Maid of Dishonor in the wedding from Hell. But it took a while to get over all of the hurt and anger.
And by the way, I sold my bridesmaid dress, "that can totally be worn again," on Ebay with a description that it needed happier memories than I gave it. It's in Canada now. :oP