Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?
My MacBook (wouldn’t want it to melt with my masterpieces living inside).
My cell phone (to call 911 and so kids can watch Netflix at shelter/hotel).
Our coats (it’s friggin cold out).
My car keys (Duh).
My wallet (for access to credit cards and driver’s license).
Wouldn’t that just make sense? I hope my light switch did not cause this fire.
And speaking of fires, after I brilliantly installed the light switch, I almost DID set the house on fire. I dropped a waffle through the grate of the toaster oven onto the heating element. The waffle caught and started to FLAME, people! Orange flames, like bursting and crackling! In the house! Scared me to death.
The kids played in another room, completely oblivious. The dog came to my immediate assistance to growl at the fire and try to trip me. I blew on the waffle, like I was trying to put out birthday candles. Probably not the best idea to give an oxygen supply to a flaming breakfast treat, but sadly, this was instinctual. At least I didn’t throw water on it?
In seconds, the flames were out and I’d successfully fought my first fire. I blame the entire incident on a design flaw in the toaster oven. The heating element is unprotected and exposed (my toaster oven at work has a metal grate that covers the element, this one does not). I’m wondering if I should email Cuisinart?
The Toaster Oven involved in the Incident. Notice the unprotected heating elements.The Delicious Waffles involved in the Incident.Close-up of Directions: “Toasting Should be Supervised”- I’m a living testament to that directive. You never know when a waffle will tumble to the bottom of the toaster oven (or accidentally be pushed through the grates by an impatient mother).
Ah, the exciting life I lead! The adventure never ends.
Time it takes to find appropriate clothing for two boys on blizzard days: 45 minutes.
Two boys= 2 sets of underwear, 4 pairs of socks, 2 sets of thermals, 4 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 1 snowsuit, 1 snowpants, 2 coats, 4 gloves, 2 hats, 2 scarves, 2 pairs of boots, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Amount of time spent putting said clothes on boys: 15 minutes.
Size of snowsuit that you are cramming your nine-year-old into: 6/7.
Time it takes for little one to decide he has to pee after said clothes are in place: 1 minute. Time it takes him to unwrap and actually pee: 5 minutes.
Time spent arguing with eleven-year-old over which pair of gloves he will wear: 3 minutes.
Time spent outside in 24 degree weather: 20 minutes.
JC and M, adventures in the snow.
Number of times you open the sliding glass door to yell at children: no less than 20. (Do you care? No, because at least you are inside.)
Number of times husband complains that you are letting the cold air in: no less than 20. (Do you care? No, because at least you are inside.)
Number of times you yell at children for throwing snow at each other and dog: no less than 10.
Time spent undressing freezing cold, suddenly starving children: 10 minutes.
Time for various layers of clothing to dry: 2 hours.
Portion of kitchen covered in wet clothing: 50%.
The Aftermath
Time between stripping children and first cries of “I’m bored” : less than 5 minutes.
Time it takes for parents to pop the cork on the wine as soon as kids hit the sack: 30 seconds.
My nine-year-old, lovingly referred to as “M.” on this blog, recently took a liking to art. The other day, we sat together with a pile of paper and he drew for awhile, then I gave him suggestions and he drew some more.
Here are some of his pictures:
This one looks like an angry dude in a doorway.
Ahh, happy people. With many ears. Seven ears, to be exact.
Happy person, two ears, lots of birds flying around.
This one looks like a surfer to me. Shout out to Steve, the sweetest surfer on WordPress!
Finally, my favorite picture of the day. I asked M. to draw Kiri dog:
That’s her drinking water. I love the smile and her tail.
Since my littlest artist, M. has autism he doesn’t say much, and I find his drawings interesting. A window into his mind. I wonder why he made a surfer-looking dude. It’s not something he’s exposed to. Also, all those ears on that one guy! What’s that about? And angry guy in the doorway? I wonder if he meant that to be his brother.
His art teacher called us recently and asked if she could put one of his masterpieces in an art show. Of course we said yes. Here’s a picture of his art:
The teacher had asked M. to make stripes with acrylics, and then gave him some items to add texture. M. used a fork through his stripes, and some sort of tire. To me, his picture looks like a boat at sea, with the sun in the upper left corner. We named it “Sunset at Sea.” It was pretty cool to see his artwork hanging on the wall of the gallery.
Also, I think there’s a uniqueness to the picture that a typically-developing nine-year-old couldn’t, or wouldn’t be able to express. The painting is messy, but it’s an ordered mess. M. wasn’t worried about being perfect or staying in the lines. The painting is pure emotion, yet not “scribble-scrabble.” The stripes and texture are present, but there is a lot of feeling coming through, too. I wonder if a typical kid in art class would, or could tap into their emotions to let loose like M. did.
That’s all I have. Just thought I’d share and be the bragging parent for the night!
Tell us about the last experience you had that left you feeling fresh, energized, and rejuvenated. What was it that had such a positive effect on you?
I changed out a light switch today!
I realize that’s not exactly rocket surgery or brain science. It’s nowhere near as awesome as Kate and her Fence Repair (click here to see her adventure). Still, I probably would have paid an electrician a hundred bucks to do what took me five minutes. I did a search on YouTube for “how to change a dimmer switch,” listened and watched the nice couple demonstrate, then got to it.
I shut the electric to that area of the house, matched the wires, and voila!
I did this!
Admittedly, my husband helped me with the screws, but that was after I had connected all the wires. I know my dad is proud, especially since I didn’t electrocute myself or cause any fires (he’s a retired firefighter).
I was so happy to flip that switch and see light! It definitely put a spring in my step. The prompt asked why the event had such a positive effect. I think, for me, the positivity came from the fact that I wasn’t expecting it to work. Had someone offered a wager before I flipped that switch whether or not the light would turn on, I’d have bet against myself. I didn’t believe that I could successfully do something so outside of my usual.
Well, hooray for me because I would have lost that bet!
I’m now looking around the house for my next “home improvement” project. Maybe I’ll replace my back porch. Okay, that’s a big jump from replacing a light switch, and I’m not Bob the Builder or Tim “The Toolman” Taylor. Or the amazing Kate from Did That Just Happen blog.
Thanks, but no thanks, Bob! I’ll handle it from here.
However, I’m guessing I could YouTube “how to do” just about anything, and find a video on it. If the directions are good and I have the muscle power, maybe a couple of tools, the possibilities are endless!
This past summer we traveled to Washington, D.C. for a short vacation and visited the MLK Memorial. You can read about the memorial on the National Park Service website by clicking here.
The Memorial is breathtaking. The statue of Dr. King is huge, and his famous quotes are carved into the walls surrounding. Here is a picture from our trip:
Little M. at the MLK Memorial“Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” – 1963
The centerpiece of the memorial is a 30-foot statue of Dr. King. His likeness is carved into the Stone of Hope, which emerges powerfully from two large boulders. The two boulders, which started as one, represent the Mountain of Despair. The boulders are split in half to give way to the Stone of Hope, which appears to have been thrust forward toward the horizon in a great monolithic struggle. The Stone of Hope and the Mountain of Despair together represent the soul-stirring words from Dr. King’s history-making “I Have a Dream” speech. On the visible side of the Stone of Hope, the text from King’s famed 1963 speech is cut sharply into the rock: “Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.” Every visitor enters through the Mountain of Despair and tours the memorial as if moving through the struggle that Dr. King faced during his life. Visitors end in the open freedom of the plaza. The solitary Stone of Hope stands proudly in the plaza, where the civil rights leader gazes over the Tidal Basin toward the horizon, forever encouraging all citizens to strive for justice and equality.
Here’s an excerpt from Dr. King’s Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech of December 10, 1964.
I accept the Nobel Prize for Peace at a moment when 22 million Negroes of the United States of America are engaged in a creative battle to end the long night of racial injustice. I accept this award on behalf of a civil rights movement which is moving with determination and a majestic scorn for risk and danger to establish a reign of freedom and a rule of justice.
***
Therefore, I must ask why this prize is awarded to a movement which is beleaguered and committed to unrelenting struggle; to a movement which has not won the very peace and brotherhood which is the essence of the Nobel Prize.
After contemplation, I conclude that this award which I receive on behalf of that movement is a profound recognition that nonviolence is the answer to the crucial political and moral question of our time – the need for man to overcome oppression and violence without resorting to violence and oppression. Civilization and violence are antithetical concepts. Negroes of the United States, following the people of India, have demonstrated that nonviolence is not sterile passivity, but a powerful moral force which makes for social transformation. Sooner or later all the people of the world will have to discover a way to live together in peace, and thereby transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood.If this is to be achieved, man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.
You can read the entire speech on the Nobel Prize website by clicking here. It’s a great speech, well worth your time.
Two years ago I posted about MLK day, amazed that Dr. King was only 39 years old when he was assassinated. You can see that post here.
Dr. King was born in 1929, so he’d be celebrating his 86th birthday this month. I wonder if things would be different today if he hadn’t been killed. How would his influence develop over the years? How would he feel about what’s going on politically and socially in the world? Maybe some of the recent horrible events, domestic and international, wouldn’t have happened at all.
Sadly, we will never know what he could have further accomplished. I bet it would have been significant.
Yesterday’s Daily Prompt from the Daily Post read:
Open your nearest book to page 82. Take the third full sentence on the page, and work it into a post somehow.
I love prompts where you have to do random stuff like this.
Since I am the self-proclaimed “Blogger Without a Cause,” a rebel amongst the WordPress ranks, of course I could not just answer this prompt. That would be too easy. (Relevantly irrelevant movie quote trivia: “There’s a lotta things about me you don’t know anything about, Dottie. Things you wouldn’t understand. Things you couldn’t understand. Things you shouldn’t understand . . . I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.”) I had to live the prompt for a day and obsess over how to answer it.
I read the Daily Prompt at work and had every intention of doing it exactly as the prompt directed. I had two books in my work bag, but I wasn’t thrilled with the page 82’s. Instead, I went home and grabbed the book that’s nearest to me . . . nearest to my heart that is. Hey, the prompt didn’t define “nearest” so I read it broadly.
Anyway, after some how-should-I-approach-this-prompt stress, I decided to show you all three books. Here they are. I couldn’t figure out how to rotate the pic. I may be a rebel, but I’m lazy, too. You’ll just have to read sideways:
We have:
God Hates Us All, by Hank Moody. Bad Feminist, by Roxane Gay. The Notebook, by Nicholas Sparks. Apologies for the flash glaring out the picture of Gosling and McAdams swooning.
Let’s start with God Hates Us All.
Anyone watch Californication? Such a good show. One of my favorite parts of the show is the premise–Hank (David Duchovny) is a New York author who wrote this book, God Hates Us All, which gets turned into a movie called A Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Gotta love that. Hank has to relocate to California, and antics ensue. Someone, somewhere got the idea to have the fictional Hank Moody book published for real, and my friend Angela bought it for us. It’s kind of a neat fan thing.
Hank Moody
I love the show and it probably deserves its own post when I get through the seasons on Netflix, but for purposes of the Daily Prompt, let’s look to page 82 and find the third full sentence:
“What a prick,” he says, already removing the vaporizer from his sin cabinet.
I haven’t gotten to this part of the book yet, so I’m wondering what a “sin cabinet” is and if I should get one. This seems like a typical line that you’d hear in Californication, which features a lot of fornicating and sinning, especially by Hank.
Onto Book Two: Bad Feminist, by Roxane Gay.
I’ll start by acknowledging that it may seem that a book about feminism should not be anywhere within walking distance of anything Hank Moody. However, some may argue that Hank is actually a feminist. We will not be arguing that here. Whether or not Hank Moody is a feminist is for another post.
I will take this opportunity to suggest that you read this book. It’s a collection of essays, resulting in a different way to read about feminism. There’s a lot of discussion about television, books, and pop culture, an essay about intense Scrabble competitions, and pieces about the author’s life growing up. It’s enlightening, insightful, sad in parts, funny in parts, and entertaining. Highly recommended.
Onto the prompt, and page 82.
We are not that green.
Ugh. Not the best sentence to write a post about, and explaining what she’s discussing is too much for tonight. Let’s move on.
Sigh… The Notebook. I can’t love this book more. I was really hoping that the third full sentence on page 82 was this one:
“You are, and always have been, my dream.”
or this one:
“You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we are together is the greatest day of my life.”
Of course, it’s neither of those sentences. It’s this:
Once he was married, he’d shorten his hours, he promised himself.
Really? A LON thought? All those great lines between Allie and Noah, and page 82 is a LON line? Ugh.
If you know The Notebook, you know that Allie has to choose whether to be with Noah or Lon. I think to 99.9% of the entire universe, that decision is a no-brainer. I have to say though, Lon isn’t terrible. He just isn’t Noah. As the line above demonstrates, Lon is a hard-working attorney. He’s handsome and the parents like him and he has money. He’s a catch.
BUUUTTTTTTT Noah is Allie’s first love. He reads to her and writes her love letters and goes to war and pines over her. Then he comes back and restores the house where they first made love that magical summer… then he canoes her over to the geese and they get stuck in the rain … I mean, who can compete with that? Especially, when he’s played by Ryan Gosling in the movie version:
Sigh . . .
The Notebook is one of those books that stays with you. If you like sappy stuff, like I do, you can read it over and over, and then watch the movie a million times and still not get tired of it. You’ll also cry every time, even when you know the ending.
I guess my attempt at the Daily Prompt turned into a mini-fangirl-book-tv-movie-review. That is the magic of the Daily Prompt.
So if there’s anything worth taking away from this post, it’s this: If you haven’t read The Notebook you should be ashamed of yourself. Also, go read Bad Feminist and watch Californication. Maybe not on the same night, or your head will spin.
Pick a random word and do a Google image search on it. Check out the eleventh picture it brings up. Write about whatever that image brings to mind.
First, I googled “random word generator” which brought me to a site that produced a bullet list of ten words. These are the ten random words it generated:
zanyish
sybil
comfit
cottonpicking
tachyauxetic
perjuring
ganev
barquisimeto
overheat
quivery
Can you guess which word I chose first? Zanyish, of course! I Google imaged and counted eleven pictures in and ended up at this pic:
Minecraft
Interesting. I guess Minecraft can be zanyish?
I decided to try a different word. I picked quivery and was thrilled to see a picture of Olivia Pope in the mix. Sadly, that was not the eleventh picture, it was the nineteenth. The eleventh picture was this:
Minecraft again.
Um, really? Minecraft again? Does Minecraft own the internets?
Thinking the Universe had a plan for me to write about Minecraft, I looked at the picture and tried to be inspired. Here’s what I know about Minecraft: Minecraft is this neat computer game involving blocks, like cyber-legos, where you can build things (JC loves to build) and destroy things (M loves to destroy). JC once built a water filtration plant that he named “Jessica” after me. It was touching and I was very proud.
However, the picture of the weird cat face and whatever that is next to it did little to inspire. I decided to pick a third word: Comfit. This is the resulting pic:
Comfits
Well, at least it’s not Minecraft related! Apparently, “comfits” are “confectionery consisting of dried fruits, nuts, seeds or spices coated with sugar candy, often through sugar panning.” (Thanks, Wikipedia).
As much as I love desserts, I don’t think I’m one for “comfits.” I’d rather an ice cream sandwich, chocolate anything, or cake. If “comfits” are what I think they are, they are those gooey, jelly-like blocks that get stuck in your teeth.
Now, if I was stranded on a deserted island and the only dessert available was a comfit, would I take it? Certainly. I need sugar to survive. However, if I’m at a Viennese table at a wedding, which looks something like this . . .
Viennese Table
. . . am I reaching for the comfits? No way.
The dessert pic inspired me, so let’s talk Viennese tables. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, the Jersey crowd does weddings big. To add a Viennese table to your wedding costs big bucks. Personally, I love going to a wedding and seeing that crazy sugar-filled dessert table rolled out onto the dance floor. Where do you even start?
My advice is that when you are at a wedding, always get an extra dinner-sized plate. Hide it somewhere until you see if there is a Viennese table for dessert. Trust me, the little plates they give you for desserts ain’t gonna cut it. Then, if you are lucky enough to have the table, pack every corner of that dinner plate with a sweet. Cupcakes can be balanced off the edge of the plate. Don’t waste space with ice cream- ice cream can be put into a coffee mug. Heck, if you want a comfit or two, they’ll probably fit perfectly in those holes in between the good stuff.
Everyone will be equally jealous and impressed that you had the foresight to hoard a big dinner plate for dessert. They’ll also be too drunk to remember how many desserts you ate, in order to gossip about you the next day. So try everything on the table! It’s not every day that you can eat a comfit!
JC, my eleven-year-old, had a noun test today in his Language Arts class. He had to be able to identify different types of nouns: subjects, subject compliments, direct objects, indirect objects, and objects of a preposition.
Let me tell you, Blogtropolis. I write for a living and I couldn’t identify these nouns if my life depended on it . . . until Sunday when I had to learn them for Fifth Grade.
JC loves to write and tells a great story, but he wasn’t keen on spending his weekend learning his noun types. Subjects he had no problem with. Subject compliments were another story.
Subject compliments follow a linking verb (is, are, was, were) and describe, or compliment, the subject. The subject compliment = the subject. We tried some examples. The lizard is an animal. Go on! You try! Label the nouns . . . *Jeopardy theme plays* . . . The answer? Lizard is the subject, with is as the linking verb, and animal the subject compliment. Animal = Lizard. Good job!
After what felt like a gazillion hours, JC started to understand. Then he started to get grumpy. Then he wandered into the bathroom for a half hour. Then he was hungry. We still had a handful of other nouns to learn, not to mention other subjects to study. When we got back to work in the gazillionth-and-one hour, I created a few examples, then asked him to write a sentence with a subject compliment. This is what happened:
His sentence: You are really exhausting.
Hmm. Really?
This resulted in a five minute break for an argument:
Me (a.k.a. the “princess,” according to my sample sentence- I need to have my fun, too): That’s fresh!I’m exhausting? Do you think I want to spend my day studying nouns? I passed fifth grade a long time ago. And by the way, “exhausting” isn’t even a noun.
JC: Well, I don’t want to study nouns either. And “exhausting” IS a noun.
Me: It’s not a person, place or thing. It’s a describing word.
JC: It’s a thing, and you’re it.
Me: Wrong. Try again.
Here’s what he wrote:
His sentence: You are so rude. My correction: You are a rude mother.
Sigh . . .
Me: “You are so rude” is incorrect. Rude is not a noun. What you should have written is: “You are a rude mother.”
Hey, you know what they say. If you can’t beat ’em . . .
Subject compliments were conquered by the end of our study session and JC and I made up. Direct objects and indirect objects were difficult. Objects of prepositions were impossible, since JC doesn’t know his prepositions. Finally, when I needed a break and some coffee (I swear, studying with JC was like pulling an all-nighter in college- I was tempted to go to the 7-11 with a handful of quarters for a Super Big Gulp and some Vivarin, circa 1990), I stuck him in front of YouTube to watch videos of very nice people explaining this stuff way better than I.
JC took the test today. He thinks he did “fine.” I’ll let you know. However he did I’m sure that “You are a rude mother” was not one of the problems. If it was, though, he better have gotten it right! If not, he is toast! (He= subject, is= linking verb, toast= subject compliment- Bam!)
This year for Christmas, JC got a Chia pet. Technically, it’s a “Chia Gnome,” but I like to call it a Chia Hobbit. Unlike Eugene the Elf, Chia Hobbit is not creepy and does not freak me out. He’s a happy Hobbit who sits pleasantly in our kitchen, spreading luck and joy.
My husband is especially fond of Chia Hobbit. In fact, he takes great care of the cute little bugger. Every day he makes sure Chia Hobbit is sufficiently hydrated (he has a hole in his hat so you can fill his fat jolly body with water), and even tends to Chia Hobbit’s growing beard with an eyedropper. Whenever he walks by Chia Hobbit, he checks the hole in the little guy’s head and makes sure he’s full, then lovingly squirts water on his beard.
The result? The best Chia beard ever. Behold the growth …
Starting out…Five o’clock shadow…A Hobbit’s Beard: An Unexpected GrowthA beard any Man, or Dwarf, would be proud of…Starting to look Wizardly…Crazy-ass out-of-control overgrowth…
Well, there you go– a Chia Hobbit’s Journey, There and Back Again. Admittedly, Chia Hobbit is getting a bit scroungy looking. He’s starting to look like a Hobbit hiding behind a bush. The box says that after two weeks, you should give up and reseed, and it’s been about two weeks now. We just don’t have the heart to destroy his lovely growth.
Watching Joe with the Chia Hobbit reminded me of Karate Kid‘s Mr. Miyagi. Next time I see him caring for the Chia Hobbit I’m going to quote the movie to him: “Close eye. Trust. Concentrate. Think only tree Chia Hobbit. Make a perfect picture down to last pine needle Chia seed. Wipe mind clean, everything but tree Chia Hobbit. Nothing else in whole world, only tree Chia Hobbit. You got it?”
Mr. Miyagi and Daniel-san with the Bonsai tree.
That’s it. It’s always exciting over here at WOAW, right? Have any of you experienced the fun of a Chia pet? If not, I suggest you pick one up and enjoy!
Waiting on a Word 
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