Monthly Archives: June 2011

Capture the Everyday – Peanut Butter Pretzel Time

“Capture the Everyday is about getting you to capture those everyday moments in your life! Each Thursday, I’ll (Melissa from Adventuroo) issue a simple challenge to capture something that’s a part of your daily life. You can post just a picture or add some words to go along with it. You’ll have a week to get it done and then I’ll issue another. It’s a quick, easy way to start capturing those little parts of life we sometimes take for granted.”

This week’s task was a photo of your favorite crunchy snack.  No.  Brainer.

Do you like my artful food photography?  Does it draw you in with it’s artful blur and peonies in the background classing up the joint?  Oh why yes, that is an empty 3.25 pound canister of pretzels.  And no, I cannot be convinced to share with you just how long said canister held on to its salty contents.  But yes, you can come in closer for a better look.

Enticing, no?  These delicioso little morsels are consumed by everyone that crosses the threshold of Casa de Lotus and by some that have not(I’m looking at YOU, food begging urchins of MOMs playgroup!).  They are satisfyingly peanut buttery and even more satisfyingly kah-runch-tastic.  And they can be yours for the low, low price of $6.99.  Plus, 50 bucks a year for a Costco membership.  Imagine the savings.

Grr. Argh.

So I have like fifty-niner and eight things to be reading and writing and cleaning and taking care of instead of writing here while the adorable parasite sleeps.  The problem is the adorable parasite is not so adorable today.  What he is today is a raging beast to rival those found in the fiery pits of hell.

At gymnastics, or as he calls it – ‘sticks, that guy screamed in the face of the instructor, ran everywhere but where he should and then screamed some more.  We had to leave early and sit in the car in the parking lot for 15 minutes so I could stop crying long enough to make it to the gym.  Oh, and the gym.  More screaming.  Crying when I left him at daycare which he hasn’t done since the days of yore.  And then when we were putting on shoes to leave?  He screamed so loud and so many times that he made a little girl cry and made the rest of the gym rats glare at me like, ‘Shut your monstrous kid up, asshole’.  Oh yeah, why didn’t I think of that?

Plus?  Ass drunk husband coming in at 2am + suspicious noise in the basement when home alone = up til four.  Throw in PMS and yet. another. dreary. sunless. day.  And you have me in a bell tower with a sniper rifle.  Or more accurately, curled in the fetal position on my couch feeling quite ranty and random.

Rant #1 -  Why is the news always bad?  Why isn’t there a happy news only channel?  Or at least a happy news only show?  I, for one, don’t want to be bombarded by shootings, bombings, rapings and pillagings while strapped to an elliptical machine running for my life.  Or at least to lift and firm my butt.  No more news at the gym please, it’s depressing enough to be there.

Rant #2 – Can we talk about the weather?  This is serious business here in Portlandia, as I’m told it is in England.  Holla, Sian.  It is June twentyfuckingninth, yo.  When are we gonna see the sun for more than one day in a row?  When are the temps going to reflect the fact that it is motherfucking SUMMER?  And who is paying meteorologists the big bucks to tell me ON THE NEWS while AT THE GYM that they will be updating the weather as changes occur and that we should HAVE FAITH that the sun’ll come out tomorrow?  I can update the weather for free, thankyouverymuch, by sticking my head out the window every now and then.  Hey look!  It’s cool and cloudy.  No degree required.  Somebody get me to Texas, stat!

Random #1 – On a slightly more positive note, I love the Voice.  And in strong contrast to the travesty of American Idol, I don’t think America can do wrong in picking a winner.  All the choices are pretty spectacular, although my favorites are Dia and Beverly.  I’m leaning a bit more towards Dia simply because I have a big, fat crush on Blake Shelton after watching this cocky country dude get all fatherly and mushers over his two final contestants.  It was a beautiful thing to see, I hope he has daughters someday because he will RULE as a father.  Bring it on America, we’ll be cool anywhichway.

Top Ten {Tuesday} – Wordless Wednesday Photos

I LOVE Wordless Wednesday.  It’s such a lovely community of talented peeps taking pics of cool stuff and junk.  It’s pretty rad and I enjoy particpating every week.  I have quite a few favorites hanging out in my Google reader and thought I’d share the awesome with y’all today.  And I’d love to see your favs in return.  Something you saw on WW, somewhere else or your own favorite shot.  Now let’s get wordless.

10.  Seeing Circles by Project Alicia

9.  Wordless - 104

8.  Dinner Time by Barefoot Mahala

7.  Wordless Wednesday by Shaking the Tree

6.  basin Basin Heart by Red Dirt in My Soul

5.  Running Man by Way Out West

4.  While Waiting For Zoe…by Buckeroomama

3.  Night Light by Through My Eyes

2.  Leaves and Deer by One Starry Night

1.  Trapped in a Bubble by Siany

Check out the other terrific Top Ten Tuesday lists hosted by the lovely Oh Amanda, you won’t regret it!

It’s In The Hole

So we spent some time at the garden today.  Obvi much needed as evidenced by our lovely weeds we’re nurturing.

I brought along a secret weapon.  You better run for your lives weeds.

A varmint made an appearance.  He left this hole in place of the stalk of corn formerly being grown in that spot.

What he didn’t count on was one crazy eyed toddler with superior firepower and superior intelligence licensed by the government of the United Nations to kill gophers.  Or to play Whac-A-Mole.  One or the other.  In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, au revoir, gopher.

That is some maniacal glee right there.  So I got that going for me, which is nice.

In the end, we covered up the hole and hoped for the best.  A varmint will never quit – ever.  The rest of us need some peanut butter pretzels and a nap.  That includes Captain America.


P.S.  For those of you not catching these references, they’re from Caddyshack.

P.P.S.  Go watch Caddyshack.

Stuff I Starred Sunday – Beacuse I Really, Really Care

Things are happening.  At an alarming rate.  Not really anything life shattering or mind blowing, but stuff none the less.  Problem is I cannot seem to keep up with it at this stage in my existence.  Maybe that depression thing again saying knock knock, motherfucker.  (Don’t break the Bloggess’ internets anymore, just give her the love on the regular)

Or maybe S.A.D. because I live in the land where summer comes in day long spurts followed by week long bouts of gloom and heavy cloud cover.  Hells yeah I am seasonally affected.  I am affected by the seasons never changing in my favor.

Or maybe because my house is now free from pests, crime and house guests?  To be fair my home has be always been free of pests and crime, except for the crime of loving Celebrity Rehab.  Of that I am guilty, guilty, guilty.  Hey, it’s kinda like work related research since I was once a therapist.  And in rehab.  Pretty sure this is in some way a write off.  Someone should be paying me to watch that shit.

So here’s the cool shit from this week, no less cool from being on Sunday rather than Saturday.  Enjoy, lovelies.

The supafly.


Polaroid Masterpieces

Fist Bump

Piratize Yourself


Dancing Chihuahuas, Vagina Dresses, and Pudding

Dear Disney,

And You Thought Saran-Wrapping a Cubicle Was a Good Prank

Summation of a Typical Facebook Argument

Unicorns Get Stabby, Too

The World in Reflection

And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.

The First World Problems Rap

I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper

The yum sauce.

More Than a S’more: 9 Variations on a Summer Classic

The real.

Story of a Daver

Like Father, Unlike Son (a Father’s Day

A Difficult Pregnancy From The Dad’s

The Telling, Left Untold

If There Is A Real, There Must Be A Fake.

The useful.

How to Create a Fun and Productive Schedule for the Summer Season

Sensory Trays Keep the Meltdowns Away

Be Happy AND Get Happier

The aww.

Kitten in a Hamster Ball

Dog with Four Prosthetic Legs

The beauty.

Introducing: Sketches on Canvas

Wordless Wednesday: Trapped in a bubble…


Top Ten {Tuesday} – Or Not

I’m sitting here wracking my brain for a top ten list that I don’t actually have to write.  I don’t want to write, I don’t feel like writing, I cannot write.  I feel foggy, fuzzy, frazzled and fucking fried.  I’m not exactly sure where this is all coming from other than those big stubborn depression roots that are all twisty and turny throughout my…well, my everything.  My past, my history, my psyche, mah BER-AINZ.

Everything points depression-ward.  My irritability – heightened, my desire and need for sleep – markedly increased, my motivation for all but the slack-jaw teevee watchin’ – all but presto change-o disappear-o.  I have atypical depression which means that, unlike all you lucky ducky regular depressoids, I crave the sleep of the dead and am never satiated no matter how much food I crams in my mouth hole.  So super dee duper triple wintastic for a trying to slenderize fatty like me.  Oh, did I mention the whole self esteem in the shitter business?  Or the whiny, woe is me-ness of me?

There really is no rhyme or reason to this disease(also, what a word to describe depression the total embodiment of constantly being in a state of dis-ease)because what’s my prob there, Bob?  My world is pretty shiny and new – back with my man, awesome kid, bff moved to town, visits from beloved family and friends, summa summa summatime.  And yet?  Like black raincloud full of angry bees is me.

I’m trying to fight it with all the exercise and healthy foods and supplements that the self help books tell me can crush it like a tiny, insignificant bug.  But this bug is diabolical, yo.  It creeps up on ya, up in ya and coils around all your inner junk until you’re not sure what was there to begin with and what to send packing.

Plus, it’s all so pedantic y’all.  I mean, it has been DONE.  To death.  To hundreds of thousands of deaths.  To a motherfreaking crisp.  Can I just lament for a moment that I was not blessed by the gods of mental illness with some truly interesting affliction that would garner me my own reality show where I would attend radical therapy sessions on live teevee and make breakthroughs and perform medical miracles in front of your very eyes.

What do I need to pull myself up by my bootstraps?  First, I need somebody to tell me what the fuck bootstraps are.  Then, I need some sunshine in an IV drip, STAT.  Then, I need either a)my ship to come in, b)the lottery gods to shine down upon me or c)a J-O-B, yeah you know me.  Something I can do at home with my kiddozle to make some cheddar to feed the meter.  What you got, peeps?  Idealios?  I am a desperado here, can you help a sista out?

Shout out to the lovelies at Band Back Together.  ‘Cause they’re all so pretty and witty and gay.  If you’re feeling down and troubled and you need a helping hand, boogie on down there are share your woes.  It’s as satisfying as popping a really good zit and gets all the gunky junks right outta there.

They Like it When You Call ‘em Big Poppa

Happy Father’s Day to all y’all awesome daddies out there and in particular to my hubberband and my very own dad.  And pretty please with sugar and vodka on top, run right over to Band Back Together for the awesome Father’s Day carnival.  Read the heaping mass of awesome that’s been left there today and even add some of your own.  You psyche may thank you.

So babers, thanks for all the lovin’ and rough housing and pirate faces and the monster hunting and the story reading and snack attacking you do for the Bubs.  We love your guts.


My dad is a baseball aficionado, a devourer of books, a loving and patient papa and a generous giver of time and acts of kindness.  I’ll never have another dad and would never want one anyway, so that works out for both of us.  Love you, Dad.