Chores aren't a bore!!

It's been my observation that chores come with their own rewards. Not just the "a job well done is it's own reward" deal, though that can be true, but actual perks, I'm sayin'.

Examine, if you will, vacuuming.

It is, by far, my favorite traditional household-cleaning chore. Such satisfaction in seeing the vacuum tracks as you go, and a completed room all fluffed up with parallel rows covering the carpet! Oh yeah, and it's clean too. Gives me a little lift.

There too, is the laundry. There is reward in each step:

Sorting? Easy money in forgotten pockets!
Putting into the washing machine with soap and softener? Smells delightful!
Moving clothes to the dryer? It's fun to clean the lint filter!
Folding warm clothes? Not so fun.
But stacks of folded clothes sitting on the couch, ready to be put away? A success!!

I really don't despise any chore, though some are less savory than others.

Take cleaning up the floor after the baby has "eaten". Wiping up steamed (read: smashed) broccoli florets with a wet paper towel is a little unappetizing. Especially if I'm about to eat my lunch. However, kissing said baby after having rinsed off his little hands and face (read: sponge bath) is a favorite reward of mine!

I may be easily amused, but I'm endeavoring to always be lookin' for the bright side (often, it is the right side!) of things, and honestly, perspective is a big part of how content you are.

So, dear reader, when it comes time again to mop and scrub those floors, and it's all clean and still shiny with wetness, do what I do: put each foot on a paper towel, and slide around like you're ice skating, til it's all dry! It'll cause your kids to question your saneness, and put a smile on your face!!

Let the river flow!

Let me begin by saying that water conservation "runs" in my family. (unintentional pun!) Literally. My mother's father owned the water system in his small Texas town of Iola. At his passing, my Uncle Kenneth inherited it, and still runs it today. Uncle Ken also owns a jet system company that replaces outdated "tank" septic systems for the efficient and water/money saving "jet system". Also, my other uncle from my mother's side owns the water system in his small Texas town of Bedias, which is 11 miles away from Iola.

My brother and I were taught all the practical water conservation techniques early on, and were especially expected to use them when visiting the aunts and uncles!

That being said.....

Low-flow toilets? Hate 'em.

Now, there are some of you out there who know of the escapades of the "Manuel bowels", and just to be fair, I admit that any toilet is at risk when we are around...

HOWEVER....

When even my little 5-year old girl consistently has trouble getting the toytee to flush everything down, and yes I know she is my daughter and therefore may have inherited the Manuel bowels, then I know the pot is, excuse the pun, a piece of CRAP! Everyone who lives in this house has to flush the worthless lo-flows at least 2-3 times anytime we do anything besides "make water".

I find myself cheering the toilet on, hoping that all my cajoling will help things to "go down smoothly". It doesn't help. And it doesn't have to do with girth or volume, people! This is about lack of velocity.

So, as happy as I am to help the environment, and save valuable water and all, I still want my toilet to perform it's main function - get the crap and other toilet bound waste outta my house. No matter how much water it takes.

I'm listening....

Alright Steph.

"Ask and you shall receive."

So Stephanie and I were talking today, and I mentioned that whenever I have struggled with something the Lord was doing, I was temped to "pull a ___ "(blank left to signify a person who shall remain nameless. On second thought, let's call him "Tom".) What I meant was that "Tom" has, in the past, on occasion, decided to,.... shall we say,.... thumb his nose at God.

To be fair, the situations that "Tom" had to deal with were fairly difficult, and under the same pressure, I'm sure I would've faired much worse. However, "Tom" found some solace in washing his hands of the whole circumstance by mumbling "Screw it", or some-such-other, and effectively throwing in the towel. If only for a few hours. (Long enough to eat a burger, fries, some donuts, and wash it all down with a coke.)

Really, it was only a bluff. Just a mindgame "Tom" played on himself to relieve a little pressure. (Still, I don't have the liberty to tell God to "step off", and apparently, he did. )

So, anyhow, I have considered this option, on rare occasion, and I dubbed it "pullin' a Tom".

That got me and Steph to thinkin'.

What would be "pullin' a Bonnie"?

It would have to be something unflattering, because I think that's what the term insinuates. Also, it doesn't have to be done very often at all, but must have been done consistently in the same situation.

So, maybe... arguing a point until I'm very indignant, emotional, and loud, and then breaking into tears because I can't stand the strain that anger puts on me and the relationship.

Maybe "pullin' a Bonnie" would be having conversations with guests while simultaneously sweeping, clearing the table, and answering questions from children. (Rude! very Rude.)

Anywho, perhaps you will share a bit about the dark underbelly of your soul with all of us here at "Bonnie Life". I will not laugh at you, but I may "pull a Bonnie" and dust the keyboard while I read.

Let them eat CANDY!!

When's the last time you heard this sentence spoken:
"Please,... don't buy any more candy!"?

My mother informed me that she has, again, asked this of my father. This made me laugh out loud.

I mean c'mon. "No More Candy!"? No one says that!
People love candy! Especially my dad. Actually, he loves all things edible, but still.

I will allow that he buys it at every opportunity:

- When he "runs to Walmart".

- At the gas station.

- Goin' to see the grandkids? Let's pick up some "treats".

- On a roadtrip.

- During ANY holiday (and it's half-off the day after the holiday you know).

- Anytime you happen to be in the car going somewhere that might have candy.

Shoot. He even buys the candy at the Mexican restaurants by the cash register. Mmmmmm.

Okay. So he buys too much candy. But I'm not askin' him to stop. (I NEVER get to eat that Mexican candy, unless I'm with him, and I really like it.)

Used to, when I was in highschool/college, Kat and I would always get gas station candy for any road trip. Typical fare was gummy bears, bit-o-honey (still a fav of mine), sugar daddys, sugary bubble gum, and, for some reason, pistacios. (though I hated the pink stain on my fingers, I loved the sugar/salt combo)

I miss that. When I see Kat now, which isn't often enough, we still pick up the candy to enjoy with the kiddos.

But it's bad for us, so I don't buy it any other time. And I want it to be "a treat" for every now and then.

Like when we visit my mom and dad.

Broken and rejected

As I stepped into the wet shower last night, I discovered something that was all too familiar since having children. Broken soap.

What is it with the kids and the soap bars? They LOVE to destroy them! I mean DESTROY! Once, my now-9 year old boy, who was 7 at the time, smeared tiny, broken pieces of soap all over the shower walls. (Oddly, cleaning off the soap 2 days later, when it was all dry, proved difficult.)

My 4-year old girl often leaves her own trail of soap pieces in my bathtub, most a little too large to make it down the drain. So they congregate at the stopper, and wait for the next customer to release them and their film into the next bathfull of water.

Sometimes, when the bar develops a waistline, the children simply break it.

I've also found soap that was just dug out in the middle, or scraped with a fingernail across the length, with the cast-offs left to go to gush on the soapdish.

I remember playing with the soap as a child, and doing similar injustices to the bar. So, I guess I should ignore it. Not charge them the quarter it'll cost to replace the now useless bar. Not scrape it all back together at the next bathtime and mumble, "Try to bathe with this little fella'!" After all, they're really just having good, clean fun. (pun intended)

Dangerous words

A word to the wise - don't use the following phrase......


"You can do it; it's easy!"


...without applying some obvious conditions:



1. "Now, you'll need the right skill set"

2. "Make sure you have the right tools/ingredients"

3. "You may need someone to demonstrate the task one or twenty times, and that's okay!"

4. "It may take some practice, so don't expect too much, too soon"



So, remember, just because something is easy for you, doesn't mean it's going to be easy for me (or anyone else for that matter). Don't set me up for disappointment, because, after 4 tries (that equals 24 loaves people), I still haven't made a great batch of bread.

But I'm still smilin', cause by dog, I'll keep tryin' until I do. (and I have 180# of wheat in the garage that says I will.)

Ya' don't say?

On the recommendation of my dear friend Kathleen (hereafter referred to as "Kat"), I will post on "words and phrases that would be fun to say all day". I'll begin with her suggestions, and maybe you will add a few too......

"I'll tell you one thing..."
"Like I always say...."
"I wouldn't eat/say/do that if I were you..."

and now my additions...

"whodunit?" (at every opportunity - sometimes just as an exclamation)

"pea-sized brain" (this is always funny, especially when speaking of animals)

"Well, frankly...." (to begin a sentence that answers ANY question)

"I'm an ordinary woman, with feelings!" (can be sung like Carol Burnett in "Annie")

"Have you no SANITY?"

"Surely you jest."

"It hurts me to say this...." (always appropriate when answering a question with "no")

"Ya' don't say!"

"Morbidly obese" (I'm not sure how, but work it into conversation - it's fun to say)

"There comes a time in every man/woman/boy/girl 's life...."

"Speaking of ____ , ..." (insert any word and begin speaking on a topic of your choice.)

"Hang on. I think better lying down" (use anytime someone else begins speaking)



It hurts me to say this, but, repeating anything all day would be fun simply because it would annoy everyone else.

You know you look.

I know it's been said before, and maybe it's trite, but I'll say it again.

People act like monkeys.

Remember that episode of Seinfeld where some guys at the office are watching George through a glass door? He's ranting and flinging his arms around while holding a banana. The guys give him the nickname "Coco".

Well, besides flinging our arms for emphasis, we share another quality with the monkeys. I'm not the first to notice this, but it bears repeating. We gotta look at what comes out of our bodies.

I watched as one of my children, while working on some schoolwork, scratched their nose. (name, and gender sensitive pronoun omitted to protect the innocent) You know what this child did, right? Looked at what was brought away from said nose.

This child is no different from any of the rest of us. (so get that "poor, gross little kid" look off your face!) We ALL look at what gets scratched off the skin, what comes out of the nose, off the hiney, and out of the hiney. When people blow their noses or cough, they look. When they scratch the inside of their ear with a finger, they look.

What is this about? I know, and I'll tell you.

I'll begin by admitting that I've shamelessly taken part in this activity. First of all, it's entertaining. Also, I think I have gleaned some important knowledge about my bodily-goings-on by looking at what comes out of it. I'm sure LOTS of medical facts have been acquired this way - however, I'm not as interested in what comes out of other people's bodies. That's the difference between normal people and doctors.

Anyway, I won't stop looking, though I will always try to be discreet in front of you.

Oh my stars!

My 6-year old, Simeon, spends a lot of his "free time" (read: time) playing with legos while listening to "Hank the Cowdog". (if you've never heard these books-on-tape, or read one of the books by John R. Erickson, you're missing some excellent entertainment indeed.)

At first I wondered if he was actually hearing any of the audiobook. My question has been answered by these quotes from Hank that Simeon uses in everyday life....


"Oh my stars!" - used as an exclamation for just about everything

"Where is the ____ I so richly deserve?" - "dessert" is often the inserted word, though can be
used to "ask" for a number of things

"It's me. Hank the Cowdog. Head of Ranch Security." not by way of introduction, but just as a comment

"There's been a murder on the ranch!"

"You stole my bacon, Hankie" (Pete the barncat says this)

"Turn that disrespectful thing off!"

"The moon, made of chopped chicken-liver" (an odd, incomplete sentence that brings a smile to his little face)

Check out some Hank paperbacks or audiobooks (read hilariously by the author and original songs are included!) from your local library and enjoy some free chuckles - it's good for you!

Gamers

During the Christmas holidays, my bro and his wife came to visit, and we all went to the "Putt-Putt Golf and Games" down the road.

I have always loved golfing at these establishments. One year, when I was in 8th or 9th? grade, our parents even gave us a season pass to our local "golf and games" venue. It was so sweet! They had 3 water slides, along with the bumper cars, go carts, and golfing...this was summer goodness. :)

Anywho, back to the original story...

After we played our golf game, we went inside to see what video game offerings there were. I had already cashed in some free coupons for the kiddys, so they had tokens to spare. What we found was what I remember from my youth - a poorly-lit, windowless room, a cacophony of loud video game noises, smells of questionable origin, dingy looking floors (or is that the awful color of the carpet?), with the same group of people who frequent arcades.

Who are these people, and why are they always at the arcade?

My guess is that this is, perhaps, the only time these people feel "rich". You see, anyone who spends enough time playing these money-swallowing machines, learning the rules of the room - which machine gives out the most tickets for the least amount of tokens - can proudly priss over to the counter with a swagger in thier step, plop down that heap of tickets as the envy of all the other gamers, and "buy" a bag-full of goodies. Sure, they could've taken that same 20 bucks to the dollar store and bought the same bag-full of crap, but it wouldn't have come with the 3 hours of entertainment, the opportunity to "be the best", nor the temporary bragging rights that this affords.

It's sad, really. It makes me feel depressed. And so, except for Chuck E. Cheese ( a well-lit, clean, cheerful place), I hope I never have to see the inside of another arcade again.

That is, unless it is the only place I can play some sweet Galaga.